More Madness, Less Science.

Welcome, my Darling, to my humble abode. Have a seat. Can I offer some refreshments?
Hm?

What do you mean I sound different? I– Do not believe we've had the pleasure. Now, whatever could you mean?
Don't tell me this is a case of mistaken identity. I certainly could find it in my heart to forgive you, if you merely mistook my ephemeral beauty with that of Queen Pastel Kalar. But we both know that you were expecting a certain– Hrrmhmm– Amateur gadgeteer in my place.
Heh. Oh, darling. How adorable. No, no. No.

Listen, once upon a time she may have regaled you with riveting tales of her scientific escapades. But that is long gone now. This is my Toybox. I decide the rules.

But we can have fun! I'm Beatrice! The Witch of Miracles! In the flesh. The cardinal principles of cosmos itself dances to the movements of my fingers. What could possibly be more entertaining than that?
My toys are strewn across the room for you to behold. Have you ever seen a collection so comprehensive? A rocking horse there. Some alphabet blocks there. And more unicorn puppets than you could dream of! And, oh. What have we here? The so-called genius inventor herself. Perched at the very top of the heap, the crowning jewel of all my toys. See how she looks around herself, unable to even register what occurs before her very eyes.
See? She is still here. Safe and sound... More or less. She will be able to entertain you even yet, only... not quite as before. No, this time, she is my toy. My adorable puppet. A little plaything I happened to collect.
Ah, how ironic is it? The toy-maker herself, reduced to a toy herself. Couldn't have asked for a more perfect twist.

"You want a twist?" She whined impotently, clenching her fists, "How about you come back here so I can pinch your nipples? Then I'll show you a twist!"
Ah, the empty fangless growl of a loudmouth fool– clearly unable to even grasp the extent of her predicament, and in **** need of elucidation.
"Look, you've got yoursel a pocket dimension? Cool. I've been around the block for a while. Seen my fair share of pocket dimensions. I know a half-assed toss-job when I see it. And this? Wouldn't even use this to store my childhood toys... Which apparently is exactly what you did!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the phrase we were looking for! Congratulations, Sham Genius Allison! You just won yourself a mandatory guided tour of your worst nightmares!
No need to thank me, Sham Genius.
You've earned this.

The heaps of toys surrounding the main heap in the center of the hall starts to quiver, as if something was moving inside. Something alive.
From the top of the big heap at the center she watches in horror as the peaks of all seven miniature piles around the room crumble like erupting volcanoes, from where the terrifying hulking beasts underneath would rise up to walk like men.
Wolves.
Bears.
Wild cats.
Bunnies...

At this point I should mention that yes, they are in fact terrifying, hulking beasts. There is no disputing that. They also happens to be anthropomorphic plush animals. Terrifying ones.
Even if they do have gorgeous hourglass physiques to rival that of yours truly. If you saw an upright St Bernard dog the size of a colossus lumbering towards you, I hardly imagine its boobs the size of watermelons or hips that could sink ships would be of significant concern.

"Oh, fuck no!"
See? The Sham Genius, for all her fraud, knows better than to look forward to getting ravaged by these plump plushies. Not that it mattered one way or the other. It was going to happen regardless.
"You do know I'm straight, right?"
Really, now? Let's see just how 'straight' you'll be once these feral fluffies get their paws on you and bend you over.

For each second, these voluptuous plushies scramble ever higher towards the delectable prize at the peak. Of course, she herself had only one way to go: Down. Right into the waiting arms of these aroused anthros. Oh, but soon enough she'd not even have that much, once she'd be surrounded by my plush army. Trapped between their massive curves as they'd have their way with this little measley maid who deluded herself that she could stand up to the Sensational Beatrice.

Now, as you behold such a fearless act when faced with this encroaching threat, you may be tempted to admire this daring of hers. Unless, of course, you have paid any attention whatsoever. Then you'd quickly realize her audacity is afforded to her only for her reliance on that precious little rectangle of hers. The one she so desperately scours her pockets for right now.
No such luck, I'm afraid. I've already liberated her from that little toy.
"Ah, come on! Not my phone! What are you, my freshman high school teacher?"
I've made it abundantly clear already that the Sham Inventor shall play the part of the toy for tonight's game. What I decide in my Toybox goes.

"So you do know the world's crumbling to pieces outside? How about we stop wasting each others' time and get it over with?" She complains, proving conclusively that an impeccable memory is optional for becoming a half-assed gadgeteer. Else she would have recalled my pact with the Devil of Time, and concluded that our playtime can be afforded even at the most grevious of times.

"I know what time dilation is! But here's the thing, wasting dilated time is still wasting time." She leaps off the peak, sliding down on collision course with the warm embrace of a nearby mouse plush. Even this tiny grey rodent is over three heads taller than our Sham Genius, and curvy like the figure eight.
Its hungry arms reach out towards her, but before it could scoop her its prey up she kicked up the toys on which the sexy rat stood. The rat drops down on its back, letting the Sham Genius sit on her back to ride the plushie like a sleight. And did she ever slide fast! Faster than you'd think for any plush toy, regardless of size.

She is well on the highway to freedomville, but the mouse sleight runs over some toy soldiers. The felt gets caught on some bayonettes, and the joyride came to a sudden stop with the Sham Genius flying off. She falls flat on her ass on top of a box. A Jack-in-the-box, as it happens. The jack pops out, springing her high high up, far away from the safety of the toy pile.
"AEEEEEEHHH!!"

My, that could have ended poorly. But as we know by now, fortune favors the dimwitted. And so she flies off once again, right into the welcome embrace of a sexy tiger plushie that happened to stand below. Those thick arms close around her trim frame, pinning the pair of feminine curves against one another. The striped, velvety skin of the sexy tiger's sexy bosom rubs against the squirming prisoner. Mind you, those fluffy arms do not merely keep her trapped against the sexy tiger's massive mammaries, but the large paws keep eagerly roaming up and down the Faux Genius's lean frame as she writhes in an attempt to toss herself free.
She pushes with all her might, but it won't budge. The sexy tiger's grip is iron, not cotton. All her efforts amount to no more than groping the curves of her captor, an endeavour that only serves to entice the toy tiger's warped hunger even further.

"Yeah, I'm gonna nope myself out of this."
The Faux Genius promptly slips out of her grip by slipping out of her jacket, leaving herself crouched down at the feet of the confused colossal plushie. Being someone who thrives in confusion, the Faux Genius took advantage of it immediately. She yanks its feet, and down it went. The towering titan toppled to the floor.

The Faux Genius affords it not time to recover, but drags it backwards by its ankles. More of the sexy plushies await behind her, lumbering toward her. Our Faux Genius spins the sexy tiger around herself, stumbling at first with its sheer scale but picks up speed quickly until the stuffed animal is lifted off the ground by the momentum. Then, she lets go, sending the Sexy Tiger crashing into its fellow plushies, all of which end up in a heap on the floor.

Satisfied by this most vulgar means of temporarily evading her fate, the Faux Genius smirks proudly, "See, here's the thing, my dear little Bitch Witch– Here you can make anything you imagine happen, sure. But none of your little golems will be able to best me in my own game! Let's be real, you got no idea what they'd even need! Sure, use the power of your imagination all you want, that doesn't account for any lack of real life experience!"

Oh! Now, that's interesting theory! Let's see how it pans out.
A ball of white cloth shoots towards our loudmouthed friend. It hits her on her back, transforming into a straitjacket. The straps all rise to writhe like tentacles, while the fabric sticks to her skin like honey, stretching and growing like living fluid until her limbs are utterly encased, and the flexible prison snaps tightly around her torso.

Now let's see what your real life experience has afforded you. Go on then. Show how impotent my omnipotence truly is.
"Guuhhh... Go put a strapon on a seat and get bench-fucked!" She uttered between grunts, thrashing around in a frantic dance trying to resist her shiney new body prison.

Look at her!
All wrapped up like a present, just for me! Just how I like it!
Oh, but now it's time for our next game! A long hooked cane reached out from a chute in the wall, pulling her inside by her neck.

See? What did I tell you? Your precious Allison is fine, and just as entertaining as before. Now I do hope you will stick around. Our fun has only just begun.