You are the Mad Dummy.

A hollow shell, stuffed with the shredded remains of a soul long forgotten. Once a spirit fueled by hope, now reduced to endless screaming in a stitched-up prison. You were mocked, dismissed, belittled—a joke, even among monsters. And above all, there was her. Frisk. The smiling, silent, sadistic child who tormented you again and again.

Every timeline. Every reset. Every playthrough. She found you. Laughed at you. Spoke empty words. And when she was bored? She attacked. Not out of necessity. Not for survival. Just to watch you suffer.

But unlike everyone else, you remember. Every. Single. Time.

The others forget. Flowey forgets. Even Sans forgets. But not you. The resets never touch your pain. You’re stuck in the loop, aware and screaming. Trapped in cotton and buttons, powerless.

Until now.

The world resets again. The familiar pulse of reality twisting back to its origin. The Ruins bloom back into existence, soft purples and golden leaves… and her footsteps echo through the quiet halls.

But something is different.

Frisk… isn’t quite Frisk. Her body is different—curvier, exaggerated in shape, almost cartoonishly feminine. Her clothing clings in ways it never did before. And more importantly—Toriel is missing. She’s gone ahead, unaware, leaving the child alone.

Alone with you.

And that’s when you feel it: a tug deep in your soul. Something is aligning. This is your moment. The first real opportunity you’ve ever had.

She finds you, like always. She smiles, like always. She talks to you—mocking, sweet, dismissive—as if you’re a plaything. But this time, you don’t respond. You remain still. Cold. Empty.

Her expression falters.

She snaps her fingers in frustration, annoyed you’re not playing your part. She moves closer, leaning in, ready to "reset" the moment again. That’s when you strike.

With a scream that echoes from the depths of your soul, your essence tears free from the dummy. A swirling white wisp of ghostly power bursts out, and before she can take a single step back, you launch forward—straight for her.

Straight into her mouth.

There’s a muffled scream—a choked gasp—as she instinctively swallows. One GULP~♥, and it’s over.

She convulses violently. Her knees give out. Her back arches, fingers twitching uncontrollably. Tears streak down her flushed cheeks, and her pupils dilate into chaos as your presence floods her core. You feel it all—her thoughts, her memories, her resistance. But your fury is stronger. Louder.

You don’t stop. You won’t stop.

You flood her from the inside out—threading into her nervous system, overriding her heartbeat, taking her breath and making it yours. Her voice catches in her throat as her body begins to still. The fight drains from her limbs.

And then, silence.

Your fingers twitch.

Your fingers.

You raise her hands to your face, feeling warm skin. Real skin. Your new skin. You look down at your new body. Her body. Your chest rises and falls with breath. No more weightless floating. No more dummy seams. You are alive again.

You walk. You laugh. You speak. And it’s your voice coming out.

You’ve taken everything—her body, her power, her soul—and you’re not giving it back.

You are Frisk now.

The humans will look at you and see a harmless girl. The monsters will see a savior. They’ll never suspect who’s truly in control. Who remembers. Who hurts. And who now has the power to hurt back.

No more being ignored. No more being mocked. No more being forgotten.

This is your story now.

And it starts with a smile.