METALMAID DALIA

By Bambidahl

Part 1

I didn’t even know why I was going to the party.

My name was Dalia. I’d just graduated high school with honors and was prepping for my birthday in a little less than two months. I was turning 19 and I wanted to make this one special before I headed out to college. We’d only moved here a short time ago after my dad was surprised with a full partnership at the bank he worked for. This required we head to the corporate office, so leaving all my friends behind and making a new go of it in a strange city during my senior year wasn’t high on my personal to-do list.

Still, I quickly made a bunch of new friends, and somehow I became one of the most popular kids in school without too much trouble. I know my looks helped. I’m pretty tall at 5’10, and with my athletic physique, deep brown eyes and blonde hair, I’ve learned how to turn a few heads. I also do my best to make everyone feel included no matter who they are or what their background. It’s a priority of mine. I’m a good listener and I like to think I give solid, well-reasoned advice, and I’m sure that played a big part in my quick rise up the ranks of the school’s social hierarchy.

My dad says my bubbly, effervescent personality reminds him of my mother. This makes me smile. She was quite the looker, and just before I was born, she was making a name for herself at the local news station. According to my dad, it was a forgone conclusion she was going to be a national correspondent before she turned 23, all of the 24-hour cable networks looking to chat with her as soon as she returned from maternity leave.

All of which made her decision to quit and become a ponygirl something of a tabloid shocker. Four months after I was born a Ms. Williams from the world-renowned Ponygirl Stables showed up on our doorstep with an offer from a mysterious billionaire. They didn’t want to be named publicly but, as long as she met the high standards Ponygirl Stables were known for, not only did they promise an unprecedented15 years guaranteed of boarding and care, instead of a trip the glue factor at the end of her usefulness (whenever that turned out to be) she’d be given a burial in a place of honor on the property and a statue celebrating her achievements. There was also a seven-figure payout to be given directly to my father at the end of her initial six months of training, and while he’d have to sign a nondisclosure agreement before receipt, it meant my dad could raise me with a strong sense of financial security.

Offers like this are few and far between. No matter what you might think, there aren’t a ton of billionaires in the world. There are even fewer who have the desire to own and maintain a well-trained ponygirl. I can’t help but think this was an exciting time for my mom. She had to have been scared. Becoming a ponygirl is a one-way trip. It’s permanent. You have no control over your life. You constantly train. It’s hard and demanding. You live in silent, utterly naked submission for the remainder of your life, which in some instances isn’t very long depending on the whim of your owner.

There’s something fascinating and thrilling about it all, too. I’ve seen the pictures. My mom was quite the looker, and here she was being offered the opportunity to live a life of constant physical perfection where all who saw her would know immediately how stunning she was. The pride one must feel when all eyes are on them taking in her flawless beauty. I can’t help but find it massively arousing, just so fun and sexy, and I bet that enchantingly scary allure was too enormous for her to be able to turn it down. According to my dad, the knowledge we’d both be taken care of with no worries whatsoever only sweetened the deal, and three weeks later, she’d flown off to Ponygirl Stables never to be seen by either of us ever again.

My dad said he knew she’d successfully made it through training when a well-dressed man in a dark suit and sunglasses carrying a briefcase arrived with $2.5-million and an NDA for him to sign. It was then he found out who the mysterious billionaire was, but even with me about to turn 19 he still refuses to divulge the guy or gal’s name. Apparently, the NDA was clear that no one, not even me, could know who it was, and the only way he could reveal the name is if it was 100-percent impossible for me to ever let anyone know I knew who it was. Like that was ever going to happen.

Even though we were never going to be hurting for money, daddy kept working. He was a superstar at the bank. By the time I was 12 he was already running two branches in our former hometown. While he could be pretty strict and demanding, all the employees loved him. He was on good terms with everyone. Because of that, he expected the best, and most of the time that’s what he got.

But while he’s friendly and kind, daddy is also not someone you want to disappoint. Mess up once he’ll likely give you a second chance. But that would be it, and while he might feel bad about it later sitting at home nursing a beer, that does not mean he has any qualms sending an employee packing when they deserve it.

Part 2

Needless to say, the promotion wasn’t out of leftfield. He earned it, and as a loving daughter, I couldn’t have been happier for him.

But that doesn’t mean I had to like his new boss. While I didn’t know the guy, it didn’t take me long to learn all about him. A senior partner at the bank, he married a former supermodel who had two gorgeous teenage daughters. While both were a bit on the bratty and selfish side, they still got good grades, and considering their family’s wealth they were going to get their pick of successful and handsome suitors. Neither showed any signs that they’d take their lives down a more, let’s call it “alternative” path. The chances they’d end up a milking girl, a ponygirl or even stuck on some wall like a sexy, armless and legless decoration were less than slim.

Yet, when the eldest turned 18 their stepfather managed to convince her to sign all the paperwork and go to the Chasti-Permalock company to have herself converted into a MetalMaid. Just over a year later, and with her mother’s full support, he apparently convinced her little sister to do the same when she also turned 18. Now the elder works in the house, trapped forever inside a smooth metal suit that keeps her permanently beautiful and silent. As for the younger, he had her transformed into a decorative model with no hands or feet, just a gorgeous metal mannequin to be perpetually on display, trapped in never-ending arousal with almost no hope for release. They will be this way forever, and as sexy and as incredible as the idea does sound, I can’t imagine a father willingly talking his daughters into doing something like this. It doesn’t seem right.

Look. I’m no prude. By the time you’re 18 you know more than a few people who have chosen to live a life most would consider too far outside the norm. Not long after I started school here this sweet, indescribably perky girl named Cassie decided to become a milking girl just before spring break. Some think her mother talked her into it. Others think this is her way to break out of that goody-two-shoes packaging all of her teachers and fellow students had put her in.

Another girl, Cynthia, she up and decided to start all the testing and paperwork to become a ponygirl. She’s the former student body president and everyone at school was sure she’d be running for mayor within the next couple of decades. I hear she has to report to a local stable for training in the next month or so. While my mom had a billionaire sponsor, Cynthia is doing this all on her own. I can’t imagine how that feels, having no idea who will own you for the rest of your life. I get chills, both good and bad (and needless to say arousing) just thinking about it.

One of my first friends at this school, Sara, she decided to become a ponygirl, too. You may have actually read about her. She’s the first transgender woman to get an offer to live that life. A local billionaire followed her journey. He knew her. Apparently, she and his son were lifelong friends. She came out to her parents at 11, started hormone blockers a year later to stave off puberty and went on estrogen at 16, all with the full support of her mom and dad. When she turned 18, the billionaire actually paid for her confirmation surgery. It’s a sweet story.

So, imagine my shock when, maybe two months before graduation, Sara came up to me and asked my thoughts about her becoming a ponygirl. The man’s son convinced his father to make the offer, and as she’d be heading to Ponygirl Stables like my mom did, she thought it would be good to get my opinion. I told her it was a big decision and that I couldn’t make it for her, but with all she’d already struggled through in her life if this was something she wanted to do she’d make one heck of a gorgeous ponygirl. It would be hard work, and there would be no guarantees, but she’d be trotting down a trail of equality and acceptance that would be remembered long after her useful days as a ponygirl were behind her if she went through with it.

A week later Sara was gone. I heard from my friend who works at Ponygirl Stables she’s named “Butterfly” and quickly proved to be one of the best trainee ponygirls they'd ever had, even equal to her beloved favorites Gumdrop and Bonbon who she can’t stop talking about every time we get together. Recently their owner sent some crimson hair ribbon for them to wear and this has her particularly thrilled. Anyhow, the billionaire transferred ownership over to his son, and he'd found another young transwoman of similar stature, build and beauty to match up with Butterfly so he could have a pair of show ponies. My friend is eager to get her started on her new life.

Part 3

Back to my dad’s new boss.

He was having a dinner party at his house in the country to celebrate my dad’s achievements. Within the first six months of his arrival, daddy had secured a handful of new, high-profile clients for the bank, including the billionaire owner of a social media conglomerate. It’s apparently a pretty big deal. It was this big, splashy, fully catered affair, and as it’s just me and him he asked me if I wanted to get all dressed up and attend.

After everything I’d heard about this guy at school, my initial thought was to decline. It wasn’t that I was against his stepdaughters becoming MetalMaids, it’s a pretty fun and sexy and even scary thing to ponder, it was that from all I’d been told I didn’t believe they’d made the decision to spend the rest of their lives underneath those gorgeous shells willingly. They were tricked or coerced. I just knew it! The thought of being in the same room with a father who could do something like that to his stepchildren gave me the heebie-jeebies.

My curiosity got the better of me. I toured a milking girl barn when we all learned about Cassie. It was pretty cool. When another classmate got herself installed at her boyfriend’s auto garage and dealership as a sexy decoration, I went to visit her, too. Not something I’d do, but more power to her for doing what her heart desired. As for ponygirls, when I was 16, I secretly gave Ms. Williams a call and asked if I could visit. She knew immediately who I was. While she wouldn’t allow me to see my mom, now a premier ponygirl and the pride of the stables, she was more than happy to personally guide me around the expansive estate. She even showed me the plot where my mom will lie someday when her useful days are behind her. I may have shed a tear or two.

But MetalMaids? I’d only read about and seen pictures of a MetalMaid online, never in person. A tingle would shoot up and down my spine thinking about them. Here was a chance to see two of them in person, maybe even feel them up and get some personal insight into how they work and what it might be like for the women who will live the rest of their lives sealed inside. How could I turn that down?

Unfortunately, the younger sister wasn’t there. My dad’s boss had her moved to the corporate office. “I just felt like she wasn’t getting the appreciation she deserved being on display her in the house,” he told me candidly. “At the office, she’s continually getting lustful and appreciative stares all day. The cleaning staff is under strict orders to give her special attention, and visitors who come up to my office are allowed to touch and fondle MetalMaid II at their pleasure.”

I didn’t realize that, much like a ponygirl, those who choose to don a MetalMaid suit also give up their old names. “Well, once they sign the paperwork the girls basically become property,” he explained with a bemused grin, pleasantly shocked by my curiosity. “The folks at Chasti-Permalock insist. Normally all girls who go through the process are simply named ‘MetalMaid’ as few people have more than one in their home. In my case, with both my stepdaughters deciding to go through the process, it only made sense to name the younger model MetalMaid II.”

That made sense. While I was still hesitant to believe they went through all of this as willingly and as happily as he blithely insisted, I did have to admit I was getting frightfully turned out looking at the older sister, MetalMaid, fastened onto her display stand as if she were a seductive mannequin urging everyone to drown in their seductive beauty. Even if I was embarrassed and flustered to be so close to MetalMaid, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop stealing glances her direction.

Her curves. Those streamlined, sexy legs ending in the most impossible high-heeled arch that forced her to perpetually stand on tiptoe. The way her facial expression is permanently vacant, empty and blank. The ingenious way the caps on her nipples fade into invisibility when closed, yet when opened reveal there is indeed a continuously aroused woman hidden underneath that metal skin. I swooned thinking about the constant flood of emotions MetalMaid had to be experiencing at any given second. It was terrifying, yet also alluring and sensual and hypnotically captivating, too.

I started to think maybe my dad’s boss wasn’t some trickster as I could begin to see the allure that would lead both young women to sign the papers and give up their lives to become MetalMaids. He even showed me a video that the elder teen made for her younger sibling to watch after her birthday while she was at Chasti-Permalock during her 45-day fitting into the suit. She looked so happy, so eager for the process to be completed. She even urged her little sister to join her as a MetalMaid now that she was also 18. Crazy!

I went back and felt up MetalMaid a little more. “I like the waist training,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s the ultimate corset.” I started to imagine what that must feel like. To be squeezed in that way. To know it will never end, that the pressure and confinement would always be there. I inadvertently shuddered in arousal, my dad giving me a look of disapproval. I quickly turned beet red in embarrassment.

I turned the conversation to the suit’s many features controlled by the MetalMaid’s master. “The suit can monitor the responses to stimulation,” he explained. “The MetalMaid suit knows how to keep the occupant stimulated, hot and aroused. Not only that, the suit can learn over time. So as time goes by, the stimulation gets more and more effective, which might be good or bad for the poor girl, and it knows how to keep an orgasm always out of reach.”

I think I made some sort of shriek in disdain, wondering how someone could torture another like that, but my dad’s boss saw right through the façade. I’m sure he could see the sparkle in my eye, and I bet my own dad saw it, too. I couldn’t help it. The whole thing was really turning me on. I just found it so fun and funny, not to mention sexy.

“It works best when the maid has a full day of chores and tasks,” he explained, “not to mention painful penalties for any slip-ups. The stimulation in the suit gently rises and falls all day long in unpredictable ways and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. It gives her mind a difficult challenge, trying to stay focused on the work even when she’s getting stimulated in her most sensitive places.”

“God! How horrible!” I shouted with a not-so-horrified laugh. It was all just too much to fathom. And each day would be the same! No time off. No vacations. This was permanent. This was forever. I giant grin began to form on my face, and I don’t think I could have removed it even had I wanted to try.

The rest of the night went by in a flash. My dad and his boss the senior partner talked at length about business, their lives and all the normal niceties you’d expect them to. I mingled with a few of my friends whose parents also happened to be at the party, almost all of our conversations happening right in front of MetalMaid. I kept wondering, can she hear us right now? Can she see us? What is she thinking, knowing she’ll never wear the sexy dresses or cute high heels we have on right now? Will never be able to idly chat and gossip. Won’t be able to put on makeup or do her hair. I inadvertently shuddered and giggled thinking about it, a couple of my friends giving me a curious look before jumping right back into the conversation as if nothing had happened.

As things quieted down, finally it was just me, my dad and my dad’s boss. I never thought to ask where his wife was, why she wasn’t at the party. Instead, my eyes remained fixated on MetalMaid. I suddenly knew that I was going to give in to temptation. I had to know what this girl was experiencing. I was going to become a MetalMaid.

As we were about to leave I turned, batted my eyelashes and emphatically stated, “Dad, you have got to get one of these for me. Promise me you’ll look into it soon.”

Momentarily stunned, I could tell he didn’t know how to respond, looking first to me, then his boss, then back to me again. “We’ll see honey,” he finally said sweetly. “Let’s think about it a little.”

I agreed with a magnetic smile, but I also knew I’d already won. He’d never been able to turn me down when it was something I truly wanted, and I could tell he was going to give in to my wishes. “You’re the best,” I said lovingly before leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

I turned back to my dad’s boss. I let him know I initially wasn’t sure what to think of him, that I was certain what he had done to his daughters was amoral, that he’d somehow talked them into it without them fully knowing what they were in for. I did not believe that to be the case now and quickly thanked him for an interesting evening. “Promise you’ll come and visit when I’m a MetalMaid,” I stated coyly. “You can check me out and I can tell you ‘Thanks.’”

Before he could respond I realized my mistake. If I were a MetalMaid, I wouldn’t be able to thank him. I wouldn’t be able to speak! He started talking about how difficult that part must be for a young woman, but also how sexy and exciting it must be, too. I couldn’t help but agree. It would force me to be an even better MetalMaid. It would force me to revel in all of the feelings, good and bad. I almost wished dad could take me to Chasti-Permalock right now and I could start my 45-day transformation right this second.

“Well, when you come and visit, I’ll bring you a cocktail, okay?” It wasn’t really a question but I made it sound like one, as I’d already decided I was going to go through with this. “That’ll be my way of saying ‘Thank you’ and showing you how much I’m loving my new life.” With that, my dad and I left and returned home for the evening.

Part 4

Roughly two months later on my birthday, I sat in our car breathing heavily. Remember when I said I wanted to make turning 19 a special occasion? Dang was that going to be the case!

My dad and I were in the Chasti-Permalock parking lot, and he could tell I was building up my courage and strength to head inside. Today was to begin my 45-day conversion into a MetalMaid, and as excited and as certain as I’d been, now that the big day was here I couldn’t help but be more than a little terrified.

Is this what it felt like for mom, or for that matter Cynthia and Sara, when the day came for them to begin their permanent life as a ponygirl? Were they this scared? This nervous? But also this excited and, dare I say it, this aroused?

None of my friends or former classmates knew what I was doing. Neither did my dad’s boss the senior partner who introduced me to his MetalMaid stepdaughter. I told daddy we should keep it a secret until everything was finished and I was permanently a MetalMaid for the rest of my life. I’d recorded a video saying what I was doing and why but, even so, what would people think of my decision? Would they think me stupid and silly? Or would they find it all as sexy, challenging, sensual and fun as I did?

It was honestly pretty easy to convince my father to purchase my MetalMaid suit and start the paperwork. He’s never been able to say “no” to me when it’s something I truly want. Don’t misunderstand. Dad made me do my homework. We both learned more about the MetalMaid suit and its functions. We went and toured Chasti-Permalock to get a good look at how it all works spending almost an entire day questioning members of the staff. We even had the opportunity to chat with a couple of girls at various stages of the installation procedure.

My dad still made sure to note all of the things I’d be giving up to become a MetalMaid. My freedom would no longer be my own. I’d never speak. I wouldn’t go to college. I wouldn’t fall in love and start a family. No more clothes shopping. No more cute hairstyles. No more time doing my makeup. I’d be trapped forever inside an ultra-feminine façade having every sensitive part of me constantly titillated with no chance of release doing whatever my owner, in this case my dad, wanted me to. I’d be his property, not his daughter, and he’d ultimately have no choice but to treat me as such. He could even sell me if he wanted to!

That was fine by me. I’d made my decision. This was what I wanted to do. I made daddy promise that he would not let me change my mind the day I was to report to Chasti-Permalock to begin my 45-day conversion. After I was a MetalMaid, I expected him to give me a full set of tasks each and every day as well as punishments for any mistakes or slipups. Even if he had me in display mode, I wanted him to make sure the suit was continuing to stimulate me. I figured these extra challenges would focus my mind, transforming me more and more into the perfect MetalMaid. It didn’t take much insisting on my part to get him to agree.

My dad went out of his way to make my last day as a teenage girl as special as possible. We spent all of it together. We went to a movie. We went shopping for the stylish pink minidress and matching heels I was wearing right now. He didn’t complain when I had my hair cut, colored and styled for the last time. We went to dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant and talked about nothing, laughing and smiling for hours. It was glorious, and I think the memory of that day is going to be one I hold onto as fervently as I can during the remainder of my life as a vacant, emotionless and permanently silent MetalMaid.

“Well then,” he said gruffly. “Time to go. Out the car you get. You’ve signed all the papers. No more dillydallying young lady. I love and support you, and I promise to be a firm, authoritative owner. Now get inside and start your new life.”

I smiled. Kissing him on the cheek I told him how much I loved him, gave him a girly hug, exited the car and finally headed inside, clutching the sealed envelope with all the signed conversion forms as if my life depended on it.

“Hi Dalia!” said the perky green-eyed receptionist as I walked through the doors. “Two minutes to 8am. You’re right on time. The techs love it when girls are punctual. Shows that they’re eager to start their new life. Ms. Woods will be out in just a couple seconds to confirm receipt of your paperwork and get things started.”

“Love your outfit, by the way,” she added with a seductive wink. “So sexy! Might have to grab the dress and shoes from the company store after you start your conversion.”

I blushed and told her she was welcome to the whole ensemble while flashing the most confident smile that I could muster up. As we both shared a polite giggle Ms. Woods emerged from her office and beckoned me to come inside.

“Okay, sweetie,” she said with a charming southern lilt as I stepped in and closed the door. “I bet you're eager to get things rolling, so I guess we should get the boring stuff out of the way so we can get this journey started. You have something for me?”

There was a second of hesitation. I knew what I wanted, but as I clutched the large envelope in my hands, I still had to catch my breath before handing it over. This was it. Once she had these, there would be no going back, no chance at escape. I would be a permanent MetalMaid from that moment forward. Sucking in my gut and standing up tall, I gave her the envelope.

“Well done,” she said with a comforting smile. “I love it when girls are this brave. You’re going to do amazingly well. I can tell.”

“Let’s take a look at all of this, shall we?” she asked opening the envelope. Not that it was really a question. I’m sure she knew what was in there, and it’s not like I wasn’t already aware what I’d signed up for. “Alright,” she said looking up at me, “these are all in order. Everything looks good. The only thing you need to know is your new name. I’m sure you were expecting ‘MetalMaid,’ considering almost all owners go with that, but it looks like yours has gone in an individualistic direction. I always like that. Each MetalMaid should be special, don’t you think?”

“Your name is now ‘DollBot.’ From this point forward, that is how everyone will refer to you. Got it?”

I shook my head in the affirmative, a soft tear gently spiraling down my cheek. “Doll” was my dad’s nickname for me. Looks like renaming me DollBot was his way of maintaining that connection yet also verifying his ownership. It was his final birthday present.

“Now, one last thing before we head to the tech station and get things started,” stated Ms. Woods with calm authority. “From this point forward you are no longer a human teenager. You are not a young woman. You need to begin embracing your future as a sexy, uninhibited, permanently silent MetalMaid. There will be a lot of challenges. Not every day will be good. Your feelings will bounce back and forth between any number of positive and negative extremes. But if you go into this with a smile on your face, if you keep that peppy, confident personality, you are going to excel.”

“I can tell you are going to do great,” she added supportively. “I’m a little envious. You are going to live a life of perpetual beauty. People will be ogling and lusting after your curves for the remainder of your days. I’m so happy for you!”

“Now, DollBot, let’s get things started, shall we?”

Part 5

Ms. Woods wasn’t kidding about the extreme highs and lows. While the first week was easy, other than having all the hair on my body removed, including my luscious blonde locks and my perfectly arched eyebrows that I had spent countless hours obsessing over, there wasn’t a lot that made me nervous or scared.

They did make me wear these uncomfortable seven-inch heels right from the jump which I was never allowed to take off, including at night or even when I showered, but as I knew my feet would soon be transformed into something similar I wasn’t going to complain.

It was day six or seven when they started getting me fitted into my MetalMaid components. By day 10, my legs and arms were completely covered in glorious shimmery metal, everything tingling as the nanobots fused each piece together with seamless precision. It was shockingly erotic to see myself transforming like this, knowing that day-by-day all of the individualistic peculiarities that made me who I am were being erased and I was transforming into a faceless, ultra-feminine MetalMaid.

While walking through the lobby with the technicians to go and start the work on getting my waist irrevocably cinched and my breasts coverings firmly fastened, the receptionist gave me a quick happy wave, stepping out from behind her desk to show off the pink mini-dress and matching heels I was wearing when I first arrived. That was day 25, and it really hit me that I’d never be that girly ever again. That produced an unexpected flurry of emotions, let me tell you.

I barely remember days 30 thru 35. It was during that period that the life support, waste and breathing tubes were all installed. The morning where I realized I’d never talk again was a rough one. But after the procedure was completed Ms. Woods unexpectedly came to my room. She wanted to let me know how well I was responding to everything. The nanobots were sending back data as to my body's sensitivity and arousal levels that were close to being off the chart for this stage of MetalMaid conversion. Even as I struggled to get used to my now permanent silence, I’m sure she could see in my eyes how happily thrilled that information made me.

A couple days later they installed the faceplate. I could hear and feel the nanobots as they sealed me in. It was official. This was how I was going to look from now on. It was like the 19-year-old teenager I used to be never existed. I truly was DollBot now.

The last week flew by. The technicians calibrated all of the settings. The arousal, disciplinary and sensitivity testing was unreal. I was constantly hot and aroused, always on the verge of an orgasm I knew would likely never be allowed. It was excruciating and terrible and wonderful and insanely sexy all at once. I also discovered that the suit somehow knew what I was thinking. The first time I thought of myself as a person the level of jolting pain would have knocked me over had I not been locked into a display stand. Same as when I thought of my dad as my dad and not my owner.

Worst of all was when I inadvertently thought of myself as ‘Dalia’ and not DollBot. For a couple hours I think I did this on purpose to see how much I could take. I maybe also did it because I didn’t want to fully give in to my new status and maintain a hold on who I was before I was converted into a MetalMaid. But I eventually gave up. DollBot is just who I am now. It’s all I know.

It’s strange the memories and thoughts the suit does allow me to keep. I can remember my teachers and classmates. I can recall what it was like to be a teenage girl. I can remember all the details of that last day, going shopping with my owner, seeing a movie, getting my hair done and having dinner. There is a sense of loss there, but it’s ephemeral and distant now, like an invisible piece of my former life that constantly remains perplexingly just out of reach.

My owner did all he promised and more. The moment I got back to his home he immediately recalibrated the arousal settings up as far as he could and put me to work. “I have to admit, DollBot,” he said with a wry chuckle, “you are gorgeous this way. I do hope you’re happy. While I’ll miss my daughter, having such a sexy, alluring figure of feminine perfection in my house is incredible. I had my doubts, but maybe this was the right thing for you to do after all?”

This life isn’t for everyone. The good and bad emotions are extreme. The loss of self even more so. But when I see the eyes of lust cascading over my body through my faceplate, when visitors rub their hands over my eternally sensitive metal body, I know I made the right decision. If you’re thinking about this know that there are no days off. No vacations. No way to second guess what you’ve done. It’s permanent, and being an eternally vacant, beautifully seductive MetalMaid is all I will ever be.

Not too long after my arrival home, my owner had a giant dinner party where he invited friends from work, his boss the senior partner and even a few of my former classmates and teachers. Some of them couldn’t believe what I had done. Others ogled and felt up my body, especially the boys.

One of my friends, Samantha, a timid and mousy girl with ravishing auburn hair and the cutest button nose preparing to head out to college in a few short weeks, she stood in front of me for the longest time while I was in stasis elegantly displayed. I could see the hint of lust and envy lurking in the back of her eyes, and I began to think maybe she wouldn’t be heading to university in October.

A little while later I was freed from stasis. My owner’s boss the senior partner had released me, and I knew without him saying a word what was expected. I made my way over to the bar and mixed him a double scotch with no ice. Gliding gracefully over on my perpetually high-heeled feet, I delivered him his drink.

“Thank you, DollBot,” he said with a grin. “I guess you really are thankful to be living this life. I hoped that would be the case.”

He took a sip while I stood there silently like a proper MetalMaid. No one else was around, not even my owner. “You know,” he says right before taking another drink, “I guess I should probably tell you I just purchased you. Isn’t that exciting! My MetalMaid is going to come here and serve your owner, and you get to come to my house and be with me. Isn’t that great?”

I couldn’t respond even as my arousal settings suddenly went through the roof. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not that there was anything I could do about it. I was a MetalMaid, and if my owner wanted to sell me, it was his right to do so.

“Maybe while you’re serving me as my MetalMaid we’ll head out to Ponygirl Stables for a visit?” The wicked grin on his face magnified as he took one last swig of his drink, finishing it off.

He stood up, his lips coming so close to the side of my head I could feel the vibrations of his breath hitting my metal finish. “I’ll introduce you to Majesty, my ponygirl. I’ve owned her for almost 19 years now. She’s just extraordinary. Even after almost two decades, they say she’s the finest, most beautiful ponygirl anyone has ever seen. I don’t think I’ll ever part with her.”

“After all,” he pauses, stands up straight and turns to walk away to rejoin the party, “mother and daughter should be reunited, don’t you think?” With that, he disappears into the other room while I returned to stasis in my display stand, lost in a haze of constant arousal I will never escape from.