...you smile a bit. You do look...well, you look great. You can still move. You can still talk even if you stopped breathing a few minutes ago. You're more flexible than before, and you certainly feel stronger and a lot tougher than you did before you put the dress on. As you stare at yourself, everything seems to fit a bit better into place.
"Maybe being a doll won't be so bad." Your voice, softer and sweeter than before, startles you a little. It's *perfect* for what you look like now. Eager sounding, servile, the kind just right to say "yes Mistress!" or "Of course Master!" The thought makes you smile, your now shining dark purple lips curving into a huge grin. Yeah, you sound...good. Great really.
As you think, you absently straighten out your apron, the only part of the costume that's not part of you now. You don't need to go anywhere but you like looking good. It's not like the rest of you is out of order in any way. But you should look clean, orderly. The thought of something out of place bothers you a bit. Just like your room now. There's clothes and papers and...ugh! So messy! Your pretty face settling into a frown as you look over your apartment. You should probably clean up.
As you bend down to pick up some clothes to put into the hamper, a faint heat begins to well up inside of you. It feels...well, it feels good, like how touching the area around your groin felt. The heat grows as you put the mass of worn socks and boxers in the dirty clothes bin, a feeling of satisfaction mixed with pleasure rolling through you. It's intense, but not so much that it'd be a distraction from working. "...am...am I getting off on cleaning?" your voice sounds, well, surprised. A little worried, honestly. Whatever happened to you seems to still be going on. But it did feel good and the apartment could use a tidying. Nodding to yourself and placing your doubts away, you begin to get to work.
Within an hour, your entire place looks amazing. The counters are scrubbed. The floors vacuumed. The fridge cleaned out. Even the bathroom has been given a full makeover. The place looks spotless. And like you expected, cleaning *did* get you off. Just the act of tidying up feels wonderful and completing a task brings an intense burst of pleasure. "If cleaning felt that good..." you begin to muse, "I wonder how *being* someone else's maid would feel?"
You begin to smile at the thought. "I could hire myself out, act as a cleaning service...man, that'd be great..." Your mind wandering to the possibility of doing this for pay. But...what if you don't get jobs? What if you can't get hired? What if there's dry spells? Your smile turns into a frown when you think about that. You don't need a temp job, or a contract job, you need someone who need your help all the time. Someone who you can serve and work for faithfully, without worrying about where your next job will come from. You need a Master or Mistress.
"Oh god, that'll be amazing!" you shout that out in joyous abandon. They'll always have work for you, always need your services. They'll order you about, treating you like the doll you are. Just thinking about being a doll, a maid doll, serving someone forever, makes you weak in the knees, a shiver of lust and anticipation working its way through you. You need an employer. You need a Master or a Mistress. You need..."I need an Owner." And just like that, you know what you have to do...