bakerstreet | come buy, come buy

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come buy, come buy

The Market

Ah, a new customer! Welcome, welcome to the Market!

Not much of a name? Why, what do you mean? It's quite concise and descriptive, I assure you, for this is a place for buying-- and buying the finest specimens of, hm, indentured servitude, I assure you, that you might find anywhere in the multiverse. Yes, yes, I've heard the nicknames before, but I assure you, this is the Market and so it shall remain for as long as those of discerning tastes and, ahem, if I dare say, deep pocketbooks, require what we have to offer.

For here we can offer you whatever it is that you wish, whatever you can dream of, anything. For a price, of course, but you wouldn't be here if you weren't able to pay....

Ah, yes, I beg your pardon for today's delay. Some bleeding-heart so-called "rights group" caused a fuss, tried to release an entire pen full of stock, but not to worry, they've been, ah. Dealt with. Allowed inside, you might say, hah?

Well, then, as I was saying. The Market contains all manner of slaves for purchase, whatever your individual needs might be. Let's see what might interest you, shall we?

We'll begin with our most popular selection, the animal types. There's all manner of variety here, though, don't mistake me-- anything from intelligent beasts (with or without full awareness, that's up to you, no additional charge) to the mostly-humanoid with some altered features. See, here, these dogs make excellent guards, quick and clever as any human. Or these over here, with just that feline cast to their features, plus the ears? Quite popular and decorative.

Is that not interesting enough for you? We do have all manner of exotic types, I assure, not simply the standard breeds. Should your fancy turn to dragons or unicorns or griffins, we can certainly accommodate that. Perhaps a centaur? Quite useful, though they can be so difficult to feed...

Ah! Yes, you've noticed our more mechanical selection! Again, there's a range here, depending on your needs-- some have been fitted with cybernetic augmentation, additional strength or enhanced senses, and so forth. Or if you prefer, we have these full-cyborg models, quite useful for labor, they keep going until they run out of fuel. Oh, yes, they have full human intelligence, soul transfered over, not my specialty but I'm sure the handlers could explain to your satisfaction.

These? Oh, yes, the sculpted group is the most varied, and popular with collectors. You see, we add alterations without losing that base humanoid appearance. Improved, certainly, but usually not too exotic (unless that's to your taste, of course, of course!). They could be taller, smaller, thinner, plumper-- or we could add features, perhaps? Devil horns, maybe, or additional eyes or limbs? This lovely model was based on the standard "fairy" type (the wings, I'm afraid, do incur an additional surcharge) while over here, this one was given increased musculature and a bit of facial sculpting for attractiveness. Bound for the gladiator arena I'm certain, that one.

If your taste runs to the more decorative, however, this section is the banks of what we call "statuary", slaves molded into certain pleasing shapes. And textures, yes, see this one still feels like flesh (go on, touch!) but here we have glass, or marble. Oh, of course we provide you with keywords to allow movement when you wish, to reshape them or, well, whatever strikes your fancy.

And here we have the blanks, ready and waiting to be sculpted to your exact specifications while you watch! Anything, anything you'd like, no request too strange, and oh, well...

A bit closer, closer, a word in your ear-- should you like a bit of sculpting yourself while you're here? Some changes, improvements, we can certainly--

What? Certainly not, why would we then try to sell you? What an utterly ridiculous idea, ridiculous, I say! We'd never treat a paying customer in such a manner!

Ah, but it seems the auction is about to begin. You wouldn't want to be late! Simply let me know if you need any further assistance, and we thank you for patronizing the Market....

HOW IT WORKS:
♦ As the name implies, it's a slave market...but with a twist, in that you really can buy exactly what suits your needs. Your character could be shopping at the market, picking up a slave that had been placed on order, bringing in an unaltered slave to be modified, and/or looking for some modifications on him/herself. Or they could be a slave (choose from one of the bolded types or pick your own!) waiting in the pens, on the auction block, just purchased, etc. Body horror? Power games? Whatever strikes your fancy.
♦ Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom in the subject, and please fill out this form to help others tagging in know what you're interested in playing:

This meme is open to smut and non-smut options, as well as other potentially triggering material, so please be sure to state what you want!
♦ Have fun, and be sure to respect others' comfort zones!

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From the latest stories to be circling the market? The latest escape attempt had been pretty spectacular - and rather a surprise. But one of the handlers had gotten a bit sloppy, thinking a chained up youth wouldn't be anything too hard to handle...
Apparently, they'd been wrong. The young man'd used those chains as an improvised weapon, slamming the handler down and making a break for it, taking out a couple of the security staff as he'd done so. Perhaps it'd been a stupid move. But it was the only move he'd felt was available to him. How could he live with himself if he hadn't even tried to get out of there? How could he just give in so simply?

But still - it's hard enough for those with easy access to their powers to escape this place. Someone running on adrenalin and hope could only run so far.

So it's come to pass that Kanji's here, tranquilisers slowly wearing off, trying to tell just where he is and what's going on. Slowly, he's making sounds, blinking his eyes, trying to focus on the tall blond figure he can see...

Edited 2013-08-27 15:28 (UTC)

Stories are the stock and trade of this Marketplace, perhaps even moreso than the slaves traded here. Stories the slaves tell each other, gossip circulating amidst the guards, tales told by those who come both to buy and sell..... Vexen is interested in them all, but rarely passes them on himself. He prefers to listen, sorting through the hogwash and tripe, searching for the hidden gems amidst the garbage. It's not always common to be able to confirm the truth of them, but he's seen the security footage--this story is exactly as it's told.

There was an escape attempt, and given the sort of slave which had attempted it? Unpowered, chained, reckless, unassisted..... It's a minor miracle that he'd made it as far as he had before being re-captured. It's enough to impress him--and enough to make his employers want to make extra-sure that he doesn't try another stunt like this. A punishment is needed, something fitting, something that would prevent things like this from happening again..... A simple statuary assignment would be predictable, and not being able to move would only make him desperate. Mistakes would be made, inevitably, sooner or later. But if the motivation to restrain himself was made inherent somehow.....

That was how he'd concocted this idea, to ensure that Kanji would be too afraid--and possibly too humiliated--to try such a physical revolt again. Kanji's bleary efforts will reward him with the sight of the tall blond figure hunched over a sewing machine, a few pins in his mouth as he works the pedal. There's a steady hum as it works, and the intermittent rustle of cloth--beautiful cloth, just to look at it, sumptuous and expensive-looking, with rich colors and elaborate embroidery. Whatever it is, it seems to be getting hemmed with lace. A woman's skirt or dress, perhaps?

There's several minutes of silence, as Vexen works intently; only once he reaches a stopping point--or perhaps finishes?--does he bother to address Kanji, hardly looking up. "It's about time you've woken up. Those idiots must have used elephant tranquilizers on you....."

He's got to be seeing things. There's got to have been something in those drugs they hit him with that's making him hallucinate. It takes a little for him to realise that the person working at the machine is even a he, with hair like that: it's rather a refreshing sight. Or it would be, were it not for the situation he's seeing him in. That's some seriously nice looking fabric that's being worked there, too... what the heck is something like that doing in a place like this? Some... workshop? Laboratory? He can't tell for the life of him what's going on or where he's supposed to be.

After a few false starts, he manages to get a dry-mouthed phrase out. "What the hell's going on?" he asks, voice scratchy. Okay, he can remember the start of his break for it, but things rapidly turn to a blurry mess as it gets to the point where he was hit with the tranquilisers. How far had he gotten? What'd happened to him since then? He supposes this is the consequence for what he did, but it seems to make no sense. He'd have expected to be back in that damn cage, doubly secured down, or hauled up to the auction block - if he'd really thought about it at all...

And what exactly does a guy working on a dress have to do with him getting dragged into wherever this is?

No, there's nothing in the tranquilizers that shouldn't be there. He is indeed seeing a man with very long hair working on a dress in what seems to be a laboratory. For all that it looks like a beautiful dress, he does seem to belong in the environment more than his project; standing up and pushing his hair back over his shoulders shows a long white lab coat, with a vivid violet ascot knotted around his neck. He looks a little anachronistic, to be honest, the sort of dapper look that's long since gone out of fashion--generations ago, even.

Then again, the dress he seems to be working on doesn't exactly look modern, either..... It looks like the sort of thing that might be found at a Renaissance Fair, or a history museum, or on stage at a Shakespeare production. It's the sort of thing a foreign European noblewoman might wear. He takes a moment to inspect his work, before turning back to Kanji. He's smiling quietly to himself; the expression might almost be pleasant, if it weren't so foreboding. "I've been assigned to handle the repercussions of your escape attempt, of course. Now that you're awake, we can begin."

It's an odd situation to be in, to be sure. Now that he's more awake and aware, Kanji might realize just how out of place things seem. He's naked, and strapped into a chair, rather than an operating table of any sort, what one would expect to be in a laboratory like this. It's almost like a dentist's chair, or a salon chair.....

And in fact, that's exactly what seems to be happening now, bewilderingly enough. Vexen snaps on a pair of disposable gloves, and goes to adjust Kanji's chair, reclining it to nearly flat. There's a cart behind him, and a bowl of water and bottle waiting. It smells strong and strange once he opens the bottle, not unlike a chemical cleaner or nail polish remover; Vexen begins massaging it into his hair and scalp. Is his hair starting to feel heavier, or is that just whatever is being put into it?

This is becoming stranger by the moment. As he realises that he's not wearing anything, it's a double impetus for Kanji to try and yank at his restraints, but - this isn't the sort of thing he'd be expecting to happen in the slightest. And at least his - is captor the right word? He's not sure - doesn't look like the sort to try anything particularly weird on. Heck, if he's not going to pay attention to that situation, then why should he care? Kanji tells himself... a little unsuccessfully. Trying to bluster through it, keep his attention away from the specifics of what's happening-

"...Repercussions? What? You lot wanna clean me up before you throw me back out on show?"

It's bravado, though, through the strangeness of it all. If he'd awoken chained, or on something other than a salon-type chair, he'd have had more to easily get angry about, but the oddness has taken the edge off his usual fury to replace it with confusion. How does having his hair washed count as a repercussion? Now this is just beyond strange. Honestly, if he hadn't been stripped down and restrained, he could almost call the sensation pleasant - though that odd weight to the stuff that labcoat guy's using is just more oddness in this whole situation. With the way things are going, it's probably nothing that he can really say much about...

".....You could say that, yes." Vexen only smirks a little at the question, inclining his head graciously in acknowledgement. In a sense, yes, that's exactly what they're doing. He expects Kanji to clean up very nicely indeed, and once they're finished, he'll be more of a showpiece than ever.

Long fingers knead at him gently, and the sensation of weight gradually increases--nothing particularly heavy, or even uncomfortable, but there's a distinct feeling that there's more there than there really should be. The gentle tugging and splashing as Vexen's hands withdraw only further seem to lend credence to that assessment--Kanji's hair isn't nearly long enough to need to take his hands off his scalp to wash, is it? What else is there? And why would it take longer than just a few minutes, either?

There's no denying it, eventually. By the time something like conditioner has been applied and rinsed out, the water is cloudy, and oddly tinted as Vexen sets it aside; he busies himself toweling Kanji dry. The few damp strands falling back over his shoulders and trailing against his face and chest are decidedly different than how they started--they're dramatically darker, for one thing, the color Kanji's hair naturally is, beneath the dye he always uses. They're quite curly, too, and long; Kanji could probably easily sit on them and then some, if he weren't already strapped into his chair.

He dumps the water out, and sets the initial supplies aside, tossing his gloves in the trash as he returns the chair to a proper sitting position. Is that it? Vexen looks like he may be ready to untie him--if nothing else, he's loosening one of Kanji's wrist straps.

Edited 2013-08-29 22:13 (UTC)

Well, a wash and brush up isn't too bad, he guesses. He could've gotten a lot worse out of the deal. Maybe they're going easy on a first offender? After all, there's got to be so many who try and get away...
But as the weight increases, the pulling and massaging don't feel like they should if all Vexen were doing was giving him a simple wash... that just feels wrong. The ease he'd started to hope for at the earlier news is rapidly dying away, leaving rather a sinking feeling in his chest.

And then he spots the first curling strands snaking around his face and his heart skips a beat.

...how could that work? How did - well. Damn. He'd have been blind to miss the myriads of strange designs sported by his fellow captives, but an adjustment like this? Hair? What could that have to do with anything?

"What sort of a joke is this, huh? What are you playing at?"

Could be better, could be worse - but it's definitely nothing he wants any part of, even less so than he already did. As Vexen goes to fiddle with the wrist restraints, Kanji's all too happy to try and help there, yanking his arm against them to try and get any freedom that he can in this strange place.

Edited 2013-08-29 22:33 (UTC)

"No joke, I assure you. Did you think 'repercussions' would be nothing but a game to play?" It's a rhetorical question, more than anything else; he already knows Kanji won't be in the mood to debate semantics. Vexen takes Kanji's hand into his own, surprisingly gently, even as the boy struggles and yanks. Some gentle pressure on his fingertips, pinching and squeezing as he slides his thumb along a nail.....

There's a distinct warmth, and a glow of soft blue-green light around Vexen's hands as he works. He coaxes Kanji's nail out to a respectable length, perhaps a half inch or so, before rounding it into something a little more elegant. He keeps working, first on the rest of Kanji's nails, then on his other hand--first a hair treatment, and now he's getting a manicure?

Vexen's first line just gets an angry look, a sullen one - yeah, yeah, point taken. Kanji's definitely not in the mood to debate anything, except maybe how hard that smug face might need hitting once he gets his chance. But now - damn, still got him there, even if the grip's gentle it's just in the wrong position to do anything about...

"Shit-!" he yelps out, as he feels the sensation at his hands, sees the new growth emerging from his battered and roughened hands. Added to the rich curls, it's bringing less and less pleasant visions to mind by the second.

"Y-you're - what the hell? Is this some kind of screwed up makeover?"

He's hesitant to call anything girly, given his own passions, and given the long locks Vexen sports - but that's a word that comes to mind with regard to the new features that he seems to be getting. Why the hell would they need such things from him? If they wanted pretty, they've got hundreds of others waiting there in the cages and chains who could do a far, far better job...
This isn't what he's meant for.

"You could say that, too." There's a quiet satisfaction in his smile, now. Vexen nods a perfectly pleasant agreement as he works. Of course Kanji isn't meant for something like this. Why would he ever be? He's rough, tough, crass, coarse--exactly the opposite of beauty and delicacy and refinement, of elegance and grace. That's exactly why they're doing this--to exploit that mismatch as much as possible, to make Kanji as unsuited to himself as possible.

But no, this isn't the end--not by a long shot. They're just getting started. But he'll take care of the more important cosmetic changes first, so they won't be so difficult to alter later..... That just leaves one last major tweak. Vexen calmly slides a hand between Kanji's legs, cupping him firmly. The heat is more pronounced, now--looking down, Kanji might see his own body melting and running like candle wax, as Vexen coaxes him into a doll-like smoothness.

That could prove troublesome later..... Or will he no longer be allowed to eat?

"...What the fuck?!"

It takes Kanji a moment to realise where the sensation's coming from, what the sensation is - he recovers from his shock in time to catch a glimpse of what's happening. A glimpse he's soon sure that he didn't actually want to see, but then again, it's not like he could deny the feelings regarding what's missing, what's wrong...

"You asshole! You pervert! Goddamn it, what are you doing to me? That's - no, no, no!" He's struggling, twisting, trying to get out of those restraints - but what good's it going to do him? The damage has been done, and so much of it, too... but no. He can still get out of it - hair cut, trim those nails, it can't be as bad as it feels down there, can it? Just going to have to work something out...

"How the hell can you do that to me?"

Edited 2013-08-29 23:33 (UTC)

"To be fair, you do realize that I'm only minimizing the potential for perversion by doing this, don't you? We wouldn't want anyone to break you by getting any ideas....." He's not very clear on why Kanji would be at risk of breaking, much less how..... But Kanji will soon find out the reasons for that, won't he?

Vexen turns away to pick up a piece of chalk, and moves about loosening other straps Kanji is being held down with--not enough to pull free, unfortunately, but just enough to struggle and squirm, just enough to slide a finger beneath..... or his chalk. It's hard to see what he's drawing beneath those, but he's working on all of Kanji's joints, and a few other places.

Where it's visible, he can see lines and points delineated--and if he has the presence of mind to recognize them, might realize that they look suspiciously similar to the sort of divisions found on ball-joint dolls. Maybe there's a reason why his hair feels as soft and fine as silk now, instead of its more natural, coarser texture?

He's still gentle as he works, even as Kanji struggles and shouts and swears, panicking over the more prominent changes. It might, just might be enough to distract him from the new changes occurring as Vexen takes his hands. The sensation in his fingertips begins to grow numbed, muted, as though he's been wrapped in cotton, or feeling something through thick calluses..... His skin is becoming anything but calloused, though. It's turning cool and impossibly smooth, a pale bone white, just as hard and faintly glossy as porcelain.....

The effect begins creeping up his fingers and over his hands, leaving them stiff and immobilized, like any doll might be. Still, the purpose for the drawings will become obvious soon enough, as he threads his magic more intricately through Kanji; soon enough, the drawings are showing exactly where the joints are forming. They're stiff still with disuse, clumsy and not nearly as fluid as natural joints would be--but he'll be able to move them, at least, and that's certainly something. "It's magic, if you couldn't tell. Biomancy, to be precise. Or are you asking that on moral grounds?"

Edited 2013-08-29 23:49 (UTC)

Vexen's cool reply disarms Kanji's frenzy somewhat, and he blinks as he responds. "Magic? ... Shit, I..." He can't deny it, can he? Magic outside the television: well, it makes as much sense as anything else does, any more. A lot more sense than some things. Perhaps more sense than the idea that he could have blundered and ended up in this mess in the first place, gone down that wrong alleyway...

It's taken him a while to process just what's happening. The earlier - mutilation - has had him in enough shock to set him far from thinking clearly, but it's starting to wear off now. While he doesn't quite process what the joint patterns are as they're traced into place, once the odd transformation sets in he can tell what's going on easily. He can't even persuade the forming joints to move, right now, with his body becoming rapidly numbed and unfamiliar to him - he's hoping desperately that if he just concentrates, just gives it enough time (time he doesn't want to have to spend on it), he'll be fine and moving and... no.

He knows what's happening, now. He can see it as clearly as day.
He just doesn't want to believe. Maybe he's still dreaming. Maybe he's still tranquilised - and he'll wake up in a cell somewhere, without lunatic magicians with sewing machines.

Maybe.
But it doesn't seem worth the hope.

Yes, perhaps this is all a dream. Perhaps if he's lucky, he'll wake up in his cage, bruised and bloodied, for a more traditional punishment. Perhaps, if he's even luckier, he'll wake up at home in bed, screaming and soaked in cold sweat, tangled up in his sheets from struggling. Perhaps his mother will come to see what the matter is, and sit with him until he calms down. Perhaps this is even some strange hallucination, brought on by fog and the strange effects Shadows can muster.

But in the meantime, the nightmare continues. The porcelain creeps up to his wrists, and beyond. Vexen draws it up with him in smooth strokes, cool hands sliding along still-human skin. Forearms, biceps, shoulders..... He slides his hands down his chest now, fingers splayed, drawing the changes down his abdomen and along his legs. Something feels stranger now, different--something inside him seems to be shifting, hardening..... It looks like he'll be porcelain all the way through, every delicate structure inside him, from organs to bones.

Kanji's hissing his breath, now, expression locked in a glare of absolute fury and hatred in Vexen's direction. As the freezing touch spreads over his body, followed so quickly by the numbing and muting of all human sensation, it's harder for him to move by the second. He kicks out for as long as he can, but that too is soon denied him, as everything down to his toes becomes distant.

And as the sensations work their way inside him - he's sure he should feel sick. Sure he should, but he can't. Only the fading away of all feeling, his body turning to nothing but cold inhuman ceramic while at the same time remaining absolutely his. How can these be happening side by side? How can he even be alive through it?

Creeping up towards his chest, his lungs - no, how can he - how can he even breathe through this? In, out - holding onto the sensation, holding onto his humanity...

Vexen, in the meantime, seems content to ignore Kanji's hatred and glaring. As long as Kanji stays restrained too fully to fight back, then there's nothing that can be done about it..... And therefore, nothing he needs to worry about. Kicking is only so effective, after all, when there's not enough room to give it any force.

His hands slide back up Kanji's body, tingling with magic, gliding along his neck and reaching up to cradle his face like a lover. The porcelain creeps up into his face, and the transformation is complete--Kanji's body remains irrevocably his own, but changed, different, inhuman to the extreme.

Finally, his hands drop. Vexen looks over Kanji to inspect him for flaws, nodding to himself and wiping away the remains of the chalk marks. Only then does he pull a box from the lower shelf of the cart, setting it on top and opening it up. It seems to be quite the extensive make up kit, with paints and powders and brushes alike. Given how his hair and nails--and the rest of him--have been altered, it's only natural that Vexen carefully grasps Kanji's chin with one hand, beginning to attentively apply his makeup.

No need for foundation, with the porcelain smoothing him out to perfection--but he'll lengthen Kanji's eyelashes before darkening them, line and accentuate his eyes, apply some lipstick, give him a pretty blush, smooth and thin the lines of his eyebrows..... Needless to say, it's a dramatic change; Vexen is rather good at applying makeup, for all that he's obviously a scientist. He must have done this before, to others..... Other men? Or have his dolls mostly been women? Does it really matter? They're bound to be attractive, either way.....

There's nothing more he can do, now. No way to fight. He can't do anything about what's happening - his body is his own, forever pristine and preserved, yet nothing in it is the way it should be. Just frozen, alien...

Still, he can't give up. While he doesn't really have a way to resist Vexen's touches with the brushes and makeup - and dear god, what's he going to look like when this is all done - he tries to focus on moving what joints he has that are available to him - ankles, wrists, mostly, for now. Just the small stuff. His eyes move enough to look at them and not at Vexen's face, at least - something he doesn't particularly want to see close up, right now. And while he can't feel anything like a rise and fall in his chest any more, something in him still responds to a signal for breath, with the same faint, muted feeling that the rest of his body now shares.
Perhaps even if he's destined to exist this way, a living doll, he can at least be more than a mute model.

Vexen sets aside his brushes and tools soon enough, instead moving behind Kanji so the boy could have an unobstructed view of himself. He has new tools to use, now--brushes, elegant clips and combs, long strands of tiny seed pearls..... Kanji won't be able to easily see what Vexen is doing to him, but he might be able to feel it a little. Long side-swept bangs and feathery layers framing his face to soften the masculine facial shape and the strength of his jaw, a bun to help pull his newly long hair up, small braids pinned into place to help make the style more elaborate, a long tail of loose hair cascading down his back in a waterfall of curls.....

It's a while before he's finished; now that he's finished altering the clothing, this is without a doubt the most painstaking and time-consuming part of the procedure. Vexen circles around to take a look at him from the front again, satisfied with his work; a little patience here definitely pays off. Now, to simply dress their perfect little doll..... The clothing left by the sewing machine, until now abandoned, suddenly seems to serve a purpose again. Vexen fetches a corset from the pile, and sets to work lacing and cinching Kanji in. One more step to help soften the masculinity of his body type.....

Once again - the feeling of having his hair played with wouldn't be an unpleasant one, even in his senses' new faded state, if it wasn't for the fact that the hair shouldn't be that way in the first place... what the heck's going on back there? It's got to be something fancy, he knows. Dammit. Is he supposed to try and keep something like that looking good, in his state? Heck, it's not like he can even - could even - keep his usual short style tidy, half of the time.

So he goes on trying to avoid looking at Vexen the best he can, trying to will life and movement into his body. And there's something, at least - his wrists start to flex, showing the structure of the joints within, hands start to open and close. He can barely feel what they're doing, though, and he wonders if it'll always be this way.
The next step's a distraction, though. It's an internal jolt to realise that the dress was meant for him, of course - a moment's almost-humour strikes through him, an ironic positive thought, at least that's some quality stuff they want me wearing... But a corset? Seriously? Will that even do anything? He was solid enough muscle there even before that muscle structure was frozen into living porcelain... but he supposes he sees the point, insofar as he can tell what the plan is.
He just can't tell why the plan exists in the way it does. Punishing him, he gets that - but why in this way?

It takes all the effort he can throw at it, but he manages to produce the faintest of whispers, breathy and strange-sounding - that's not his voice, no...
"...what ...for?"

Edited 2013-08-30 15:14 (UTC)

In one sense, Kanji is right: a corset absolutely won't be able to do anything, with a porcelain body beneath it; there's absolutely no give there, to be able to narrow his waist or push his chest up. In another sense, he's absolutely wrong: they don't need it to do anything of the sort. A corset is considered a shaping garment for more than one reason--beyond narrowing the waist, it also emphasizes the hips and bust. Although he may not have anything to push up, the way it's cut still flares out to provide somewhere for a woman's chest to go, and the bottom is much the same way, in a longer style like this, curving out to slope over hips that just aren't there.

By itself, of course it looks odd, just like the rest of the changes seemed strange in a vacuum--but concealed beneath a dress? Those hints will provide just enough definition to raise some doubts, just enough to fill out the dress a little, after he's altered it. Taken altogether, the role confusion and ambiguity will be an artistic statement, to a degree..... even as it serves another purpose, just like the corset. Vexen cinches it until Kanji creaks, just a little, with the strain of being borne down on when the porcelain has no give to offer. In normal humans, wearing things like these restricts breathing and can even rearrange organs after long enough--in a doll like Kanji is now? That kind of stress should only make him more fragile, more aware that such pressure will easily lead to fractures and breaks, if he's too careless.

Vexen raises an eyebrow as Kanji speaks, mildly incredulous. At least he's learned how to speak at all..... he's glad to see the boy is at least quick on the uptake in one way. "You really don't know? Honestly....."

He turns away for a moment longer, returning holding a pair of tall, sleek high heels for Kanji to inspect. They're set on the cart, and he returns next time with a petticoat as an example, briefly draping it over Kanji's lap to prove his point; the hem easily falls right down to his feet. "I would be interested to see you learn how to run in these--and quickly enough to outpace grown men in more sensible clothing and footwear, at that. And even if you did....."

Vexen taps one of Kanji's bare shoulders with his nail; there's a bright, high chime from it, not at all unlike someone tapping their glass with a fork to get a table's attention. Tripping and falling, much less fighting, has the potential for things to go south very quickly for him now. "And even if you managed to avoid that..... do you suppose your friends would recognize you anymore? Would you want them to, if you saw them?"

Edited 2013-08-30 15:59 (UTC)

The feeling of having his body creaking under pressure is strange, alien, worrying: and as Vexen describes the details onwards, Kanji gets a sinking feeling that he didn't even know his body could still produce. He can't quite persuade his head to turn quickly enough to respond to Vexen's tap, can't grit his teeth against the intrusive nature of it all - the chiming sound would set them on edge if that were still possible. It's doing that much to his mind, at least.

He understands. God, he understands. No chains needed any more - the body he'd taken so much care to train and treat well had been turned into as effective a restraint as any of the others. But why the makeover? Why the feminine hair, nails, makeup? There had to be some reason behind that, too, apart from sheer unrecognisability - he's sure that Vexen could have done that in a million ways. Sure he could have stopped him running in other ways than an admittedly impractical clothing choice. Why?

Getting a response out takes the same effort, still trying to learn how to shape words with willpower alone - "Ruin' 'e... ast'rd..."
Each hard-fought word might as well be a shouted litany against Vexen, the procedure, the marketplace, anything else in the world that'd brought him to this state.

Edited 2013-08-30 16:50 (UTC)

Why? Why not? The poetic irony is perfect, in his opinion. The sheer incongruity of Kanji's circumstances now with his initial state, with his attitude, with his body contrasted against his new outfit and more feminine makeover..... That's the sort of artistic tension that makes a piece interesting. That's the sort of identity erasure that erodes their slaves until they're more fit for purchase. Let the punishment fit the crime, isn't that right?

Besides, their dolls happen to be very popular--chances are good they'll be able to sell him with relative ease. They're a market, not a zoo; the point is to be able to pass the slaves on to others, not keep them caged up for its own sake.

Vexen starts unstrapping Kanji, to better be able to start dressing him; he simply nods, rather than offer Kanji a full answer. Why, yes, he has ruined him, hasn't he? That's exactly the point, there--good work, Holmes, you've cracked the case. Foundation garments come first--a pair of panties to slip on, stockings and a garter belt to clip them in place, several frilly petticoats to add volume..... Vexen works as matter-of-factly as though Kanji really is nothing more than a life-sized doll, now.

Edited 2013-08-30 17:07 (UTC)

It's beyond frustrating being unable to fight back, to be barely able to hiss out insults in a reforming voice - as such, inside, he's just about screaming. This isn't him, this can't be - this'll never be who he's supposed to be... despite everything. He'll never be able to accept it.
And maybe that's the point, he suspects. To be able to give up on his old self and be content in a strange form like this - easier in the long run, but impossible to do. To go on fighting inside - an easier choice but a harder life. He's being forced to tear himself apart.
(For a moment, his thoughts go out to Naoto and the choices she'd made in her life - to be what she needed to be, versus being what she truly was...)

At least, as hateful and undignified as the process of being clothed is, it's helping him settle into the feel of his changed body. Adapting to the faint sensations of the clothes lying against his smooth, hardened skin, pressure in places he'd never had to get used to such before. He's still trying to get used to the motions of his new joints, but anything more than hands and feet are still not an option. Perhaps when he's actually got a chance to move, uninterfered with... but he's not sure what chance that'll be.

That's exactly the point. Tearing himself apart inside until there's so little left of him, anything can be done with the remains..... That's what they're in the business of, here, with the less cooperative slaves. Those who give up easily, those who are willing to submit..... They find themselves with easier lives, even relatively comfortable ones. Some people, after all, simply wish for things like dedicated bodyguards, or guaranteed servants. Some of them will be poised and appropriate for exactly such missions, and go on to lead actually decent lives with kind, thoughtful masters who may even grow to care about them as people in their own right.

Kanji, however, will never be one of those fortunate few. He's too late to understand the use of bending, rather than breaking, or graciously accepting and improving his lot in more subtle ways.

Vexen works on dressing Kanji the rest of the way, now, manipulating his limbs methodically to slot them into the dress, even lifting him at one point, effortlessly, to get him into it fully. The whole process has been undeniably gentle, but it's obvious he's strong, if he can lift him so easily--strong enough to break such a fragile form without a second thought, if he so chooses. Sliding arms into puffy sleeves, arranging the heavy skirts, lacing up the back, slipping the high heels onto stocking-clad feet..... At least he doesn't bother with jewelry. The outfit is more than enough.

No, now that the work is finished, Vexen goes to fetch a mirror instead, wheeling it over to stand before Kanji's chair. He solicitously lifts Kanji up so he can see everything fully--and so Kanji might be able to stand, if he can figure out how to get his feet under him and support his own weight. "There you are. All cleaned up, and ready to be put back on show, just as promised."

Edited 2013-08-30 20:00 (UTC)

Perhaps he's damned himself. But at the same time - he couldn't have gone on without trying. That's one thing he can be proud of, even after all this. Perhaps he's cut off one avenue of comfort in life, but he's kept that much, he thinks...
Throughout the process, he's been growing more and more used to the sensations of his body, learning how it flexes as Vexen moves the joints to slip the clothing over his body. By the time it's done, he's hardly in any fine control, but he's determined to stand up to face the truth of what's happened to him.

The combination of the unfamiliar feeling of his body and the high heels are enough to make it hard for him to get anything like balance - but damn it. He's going to try. It's something he can do, at least - work through it, not just be pushed around any longer - but the sight of his own reflection's enough to almost knock him off his feet again.

For a moment, he's sure that it must be a trick. Not the most classically pretty, perhaps: but striking, elegant, caught on the edge between masculinity and femininity by the careful colouring and layering of clothing and hair. An unconventional beauty, but this time the description's accurate rather than sarcastic. Hell, if the school festival could've done anything like this, Teddie wouldn't have stood a chance - but at the same time, that was transient, a one off challenge. This? This is for good.
And it's a chill inside to realise. This is where his actions have brought him. One hesitant, finely-jointed hand raises as he watches his reflection...

While his speech is still a whisper - perhaps that's all it'll ever be, now - it's clear by now, as he responds to Vexen's comment.
"...that's it, then. ...Damn."

come buy, come buy

see plurk for horrible horrible concept.

o7

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