You awaken to a cloudy sky, lines of plastic buildings looming above you. The ground beneath you feels moist to the touch and hard, your mind letting you know that it's asphalt.

It's cold, and you get the sense that it's winter.

You try to get your bearings.

What kind of toy are you?

What is the first emotion that you can place?

What is a vague memory from a time before now?

You are a rubber duck. You're hollow on the inside aside from a squeaker, your voice high pitched and matching. You have a squat frame and a little molded tail, just barely able to be wagged. Your beak can open and close, but you can't swallow anything- not that you'd want to, it'd probably just fuck with the squeaker. Your hands are molded plastic wings, and even without thumbs and distinct fingers, you can hold and manipulate things just fine. You wouldn't be able to fly, but you can definitely float, and something tells you that you miss the water. 

You use she/her pronouns, and your name is Polka Dot. You got it from the spotted paint on your body, big shapes with clean edges...mostly. Some of the paint has gotten scuffed up, but you can't remember how or why. Bright, light blue with white spots feels like it suits you, somehow.

The first thing you can identify feeling is pure, unfiltered rage. Something is really, really pissing you off, but for the life of you, you can't remember. This only manages to piss you off more, and as you stumble to your orange feet, you feel yourself seething.

All of a sudden, you do remember something- a veranda of some sorts, the house it was connected to made of white plastic and built for far more detailed and elegant toys than yourself. You remember feeling out of place and very nervous, and like you had been here before. You had only stepped onto the stairs before being filled with dread, a figure you just cannot recall staring down at you with great malice.

You remember pain, but that was the end of it.

Something has been done to you before this moment, and you're not sure what it is, but whoever did it, they're going to pay.

What do you do now?

You pat yourself down, but you are totally and completely naked aside from what feels like a ribbon choker around your neck. Your beak kind of gets in the way of seeing it, but you do get a little memory flicker of what it looks like- it's purple, with a tiny white polka dot pattern. 

It means a lot to you.

Aside from that though, you have jack shit, and you don't like that. It makes you feel too vulnerable, and as someone rudely bumps into you-

-you get the feeling that that's not a good thing to be around here. 

The other toy's comment makes you wonder just what he means by that, but you also get the sense you're not welcome to just lay in the road in a daze. You hop onto the sidewalk and start walking, startled when your foot touches something cold and wet- snow. Definitely winter, then. 

The street goes straight ahead, no curves to it. Buildings lay in straight lines and blocky forms, offset by curved shapes for the windows, doors and signage. There's different materials all over, alternating between wood, metal, plastic, some brick...but as far as you can tell in the light of the street lamps, it's all pretty brightly colored. The sky above you is dark, with large, defined star shapes contrasted by an even larger crescent moon.

It's rather pretty, but you can't say the same for the scratched up buildings. Whoever lives in this city doesn't take very good care of it, further supported by the trash you find littered on the ground.

You can't remember this place at all, though. You don't even think you've been anywhere like it, and maybe that's why the guy who bumped you called you a "newbie"- you almost wish you asked him what the hell he meant. 

First things first, though...you want something to protect yourself with. A guy bumping into you was...fine, annoying but fine. But you don't like the look of this place, and considering the last thing you remember was horrible pain, something needed to be done. 

None of the trash looks suitable, though. There's a stick, maybe? But even just picking that up...you feel pathetic, just holding a piece of brown, textured plastic. You toss it aside with a disgruntled squeak, kicking a can for good measure. 

You were either going to need some help, or go exploring. You know enough despite your amnesia to know you need to find a place that'll let you either scrounge something together or...something. Someone had to have this kind of stuff, right?

You try looking down the lines of buildings. The signs feel...oddly blurry the further you look, with farther away stores and housing's details melting away until you get closer. It takes practically being next to a place to fully make it out, so you keep walking. You're looking for...a library, or a hospital, or something like that, according to your mind. Somewhere where people have resources.

Either that, or somewhere abandoned. That'd work too, somewhere you could scavenge something up. 

You're slowly becoming more and more aware of how cold it is as you walk, and you realize that you're hungry as well...you're not all that tired, but a sense of panic starts to settle in as you realize you might be in real trouble out here on your own, not even knowing where you are or how to take care of yourself. You get a glare from a doll passing by and feel sick, not knowing what you're even doing to provoke their ire. 

You slow down as you reach a red building with glowing lights, curtains hung over the windows and the sound of laughter coming from within. The place practically radiates warmth, and you can't help but feel...enticed. It doesn't look like any kind of public service building, and frankly, you can't really tell what it is.

There's a sign on the door, though.

"cold outside? come on in...
find some arms to hold you, or just something to fill your belly
income or work-based payments available"

You glance back up at the sign above the door, the neon lights beckoning you in.

"LAURIE'S PLACE"

You're hesitant at first. Nobody gives anything for free, that's the feeling you get. You don't have anything on you but your choker, and like hell you're giving that away, even if someone else considered it valuable. No way. You could probably just ransack some place, either abandoned or hell, just someone who wasn't home...

But...

This could be a good opportunity, as long as you played it safe and didn't agree to anything until you had full details. Besides, the sign seems to imply that you could work for food and a place to stay, and that's something you could figure out, probably. 

The cold seems to speed up your decision as you shiver, reaching for the handle before you can stop yourself.

You step inside.

The room you enter is small but...immensely warm feeling, both in temperature (thank god) and overall vibe. The walls are lined with wood paneling and crushed red velvet, framed pictures of toys having a great time serving as the main decor. Some of them are wearing...weird outfits and costumes, but they all seem to be laughing and holding each other. It's like nothing you've ever seen.

A toy ahead of you makes a throat-clearing noise, and you look to face them. There's a tinted fluid-filled toy standing at a podium, dressed in a red velvet vest and black slacks. Her body seems to be made up of half translucent plastic (letting the tinted water shine through) and half opaque, a tiny floating figure suspended between the opening of the vest. It moves when she talks, almost as if dancing- and with a closer look, you can see it moved by thin internal strings.

Her voice is professional, but you don't feel threatened by it.

You spot a name tag on the other toy- her name appears to be Minnie.
 

MINNIE: We provide work opportunities in exchange for our services, including temporary and long term lodging, use of both our public and private playrooms, food and drink at the bar and cafe, costume, gear, and outfit rental, etc.
MINNIE: We do offer money-based payments as well, but we greatly prefer to provide services in exchange, as it helps keep us running and gives people the opportunity to have a roof over their heads in a city that does not offer said things willingly-

 
She pauses, seeming to look you over.

Damnit, were you really that easy to figure out? You guess that you're not wearing clothes or anything in the winter...

Hmm.

Half of this stuff is going over your head.

All you can do is nod, and you get the feeling that she's a bit concerned for you.

She gets up from behind the podium, leading you to a door to the side. She knocks on the door three times before a voice tells you to come in, the water-filled toy holding the door open for you.

The room you step into is covered in silk drapery, a tie-dye bean bear sprawled across a lounge, wearing a black sequin-covered dress and what looks like high heels. He's looking over some kind of phone, and sets it down as you come closer. 

His voice is calm and collected, but you can't help but feel slightly nervous- this is the guy running the place, after all, and he looks like he knows what he's doing a hell of a lot more than you do.

You follow his gesture to an armchair, sinking in as you sit. It's way more comfortable than your time sitting in the road, and you know you're going to have a hard time getting up.

You hesitate, but end up nodding anyway. Looks like everybody just...has that figured out, damnit.

He hesitates. 
 

You look around the room at all the drapery, and then think of your choker.

He sighs, reclining slightly. 

He points to a large box full of haphazardly scattered garments.

You get out of the chair, already missing its soft cushion, and walk over to the box.

Good god, they've got everything in here. What do you even choose?

You pick out a thin, lacy shirt, and a poncho-like capelet to go over it- the shirt may not be too warm, but the capelet definitely is, and you feel like it's going to help a lot out in the cold. You pick out some thigh high boots while you're at it, the material weirdly conforming to your duck legs without much trouble. It's a bit hard to stand up straight with the heels, but you get used to it after a few minutes of walking in circles.

Laurie gestures for you to come back over, reaching into a box on his table and pulling out a heart shaped pin, along with a key with a large looking fob. 

A number changes on the fob, some kind of yet-to-start countdown. 

He gets up and heads for a bookshelf on the far side of the room, giving you a chance to dig out a warm skirt from the clothes box, slipping it on. 

He hands over a rather dense looking pamphlet, titled "SEXUALITY IN TOYS, A BEGINNER'S GUIDE" in friendly, easy to read font.

You pocket it, grateful that you picked out a skirt with storage space.

This is a lot to keep track of, but you think you've got it. Laurie extends a hand and after a moment's hesitation, you give it a good shake.

With that, you're lead out of the room and back into the lobby, Minnie waiting for you. 

She takes you through a curtain, the sound of laughter and people talking getting louder. The space you step into is large and packed with people, toys of all kinds sitting together and eating, some draped on each other in a way that makes you just a little bit self conscious. The energy is inviting, and you almost wish you could sit down and get your own meal- but work comes first, you're guessing.

The kitchen is far less busy, but there's a bunch of toys working here too- mimicking cutting and stirring motions with plastic tools, the toy food seeming to shift forms as they did. There was large, simplified food along with intricate and detailed miniatures, the latter making you feel even hungrier- somehow, even with your damaged memory, you know that's the good stuff. 

Minnie leads you over to a bean bear in an apron, her muted purple fabric suiting her kind expression.

She doesn't take her eyes off of the vegetables she's stir frying, a browned tint appearing on the edges of the plastic food. 

Minnie claps you on the shoulder and starts heading out. 

And with that, it's you and the chef, the bear tipping a completely sealed bottle of sauce over the stir fry and getting a sizzling sound with no direct source in return.

This sounds familiar...you must have been aware of this at some point. Good.

...maybe you were wrong about this world, but you're still not sure about everything. Sounds like people outside of this place are as shitty as you thought, but...that sound pretty good, actually.

She finishes her stir fry, spooning it out onto a set of plates. 

She hands the dishes off to a passing toy, leaning against the counter and looking you in the eye.

Vine leads you over to a couple of plastic vats, popping the lids off of them- there's some modeling dough inside, in all kinds of colors. She gestures to a variety of tools on the nearby counter, all plastic with lots of different shape cutouts and mechanisms. 

She gestures to a tool with a crank. 

Vine puts some white dough into the machine and cranks it, cutting it off after a set length. 

You nod and set your sights on the dough in front of you, starting to work on the process Vine went over with you.

You start off simple, just using the cookie cutters that your new mentor gave you. There's hearts and stars and flowers and other simple shapes...and when you use a combination, they end up looking kind of like sprinkles, or confetti. Something makes you feel pretty proud of your first attempt, though it is a little bit messy on the whipped cream swirl.

Vine looks over and gives you an encouraging gesture as you put it out for someone to take, and you feel a boost of confidence. Maybe this was going to work out. 

Your ego properly inflated, you start to try and get a little fancy...after all, you got it right on your first try. Your second try however, doesn't go quite as well- now you've just got a mess. When Vine looks over again, she just yells for you to put it to the side and try again, and so you press on, newly humbled...but just as determined.

You do two of each design you have in your head- two of them with flowery shapes, both made from cutouts and delicately placed round balls, and two of them with thick, overlaid stripes- kind of like a present. Something to keep people's heads out of the cold weather outside, and something more...festive. Just felt right.

They're not perfect, but you do like them, and from the look of it, so does Vine as someone picks them up and carries them out past her.

She gestures to your flopped attempt at the special from earlier. 

You pick up the plate and follow Vine as she takes you to a break room in the back, the chef sitting down with you and handing you a fork. 

You take a piece off of your dough creation and raise it to your mouth, surprised as the taste of fresh cake and whipped cream comes to mind. It immediately makes the hunger pangs in your belly fade away, and before you know it, you're digging in. Like Vine said, every "bite" you take of it makes more dough disappear, and it doesn't take long for you to have a clean plate.

She reclines in her chair, and you can't help but do the same.