It’s been a stressful day. You’re probably not changing back. Why not take this ride as far as it goes. You deserve to feel nice and relax a bit, and that’s what resting into the snake is. It feels good. And really, given your luck today, maybe you’ll change into something else.
Again, you find yourself, much to your surprise, enjoying the prospect of further change. Much as that apathy about your change had earlier come about, you’re now almost eager for something new. You try and sort out your thoughts, to untangle that knot of joy at the prospect of change.
You’re a doll now, but not just a doll, but a doll without anything to adorn her, or it, as you impishly think. That thought accompanies you rubbing your legs and feeling a satisfying nothingness other than smooth thighs and resistance from the walls of the snake. You jumped into the snake as a blank slate. You discarded your wig, your clothes, your zipper accidentally, and lept down the rabbit hole into this. And now, so devoid of anything else to define you, you’re eager to have something mark you as more than just a blank doll.
You’re acutely aware of how not human you’re thinking now. You know that you’d be horrified at your thoughts and how you’re gleefully thinking of yourself as a doll, at how you’ve eagerly embraced a she/her/it set of pronouns. You were a he/him before! And a human!
But you're not now, and you're too far along to really fight it at this point. And really, you're thinking thoughts you'd never have as a man. You’re not an object in need of a master per se, but the idea doesn’t repel you and the thought of taking initiative seems infinitely more difficult than it did as a person. Oh, and see, you’re not even thinking of yourself as a person now, there we go.
It does make sense though, or at least you hope it does. When you were magiced into a ballerina girl you were eager to dance and act impulsively despite still being you, and now, transformed into a doll you’re thinking doll thoughts despite still being you. Despite those thoughts you’ve noticed that the walls of the snake are definitely getting stickier, your smooth plasticy skin feeling no discomfort against the slick somewhat mucusy walls. This should ick you out, again, something you’re not feeling.
Instead, you’re content to wait. It’s strange how you just don’t get bored. You find your thoughts meandering to pleasant half daydreams that always seem to circle back to how lovely being a doll is. And whenever you dwell on it, you can’t help but feel that you’re such a well designed doll because of how you’re set to think about yourself. A bad doll would hate their programming but you can’t help but love it so you do!