Living Doll (series)

Contents                                        line    comments
Cosplay Queen					8	disillusionment
House Visit					46	further betrayal
Hospitalization					85	death [arc end]

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	Cosplay Queen

A maid's dress was lifted up, revealing pearly-white, perky, almost stiff breasts clad in black lace. The perfectly beautiful woman, her alabaster skin vividly contrasted by her black lingerie and gartered stockings, took a rigid step towards a tailor's doll, her shapely breasts barely swaying with each step. She bent over to settle the fabric perfectly on the doll, deliberately positioned as to accentuate the curve of her back, the contours of her hips and buttocks, and finally the gently sloping mass of her milky white thighs. Pale plates and ball joints slid against each other as Françoise savored the delicious smell emanating from the club members.

Half a dozen boys of various unpopular persuasions swallowed hard, panted, gasped like a cacophony in her ears. Françoise felt their delicious, impotent lust emanating like a sweet nectar - she could in her mind's eye see their sweaty cocks, rock-hard, inside all that fabric. It was almost intoxicating. Today, too, would be an excellent harvest. She opened her hairbun and straightened her back as she began to open the long braid. She arched her back and stepped into a beautifully lit contaposto, her hips swung to one side to accentuate her hard buttocks.

Françoise' face betrayed no hint of the gloating pleasure rolling inside her like a vast ocean. Her gentle smile hid a self-satisfied leer, certain that the boys would masturbate themselves into a stupor before going home. Finally her hair was again free, and she threw her head back - partly to shake it loose, partly to make sure the boys would be dazzled by the sunlight reflected from her long, lustrious hair. The doll, her show now finished, began to dress herself in her own clothes.



A figure sneaked on tiptoes in the darkness. Finally it reached the locked door, only for nimble hands to pull a crude key from its tracksuit pocket. The door opened to let it in, and after a few moments lights turned on in a supply closet. The light revealed Françoise, her hair tied back into a bun, clad in a tracksuit jacket and bloomers, her slender, beautiful legs still clad in the stockings. She knelt by the waste basket, still slightly smiling, and took a long whiff.

The scent of semen filled her delicate, porcelain nostrils. Amazing... There must have been more than 15 shots in there! A very nice harvest for the day. Her articulated hands seemed to find their way to her bloomers almost on their own, digging and clawing at the fabric to manipulate the stiff structure beneath. Françoise almost moaned as her own cold fingers entered her equally cold hole - the overpowering smell almost made it feel real. She leaned deeper and deeper into the basket, sniffing, licking, even sucking on the dirty tissues.

She lost herself in ecstacy, sucking up the worthless cum, and lost her balance, falling onto her perfect bust with her head still inside the basket. Her number one asset swung slightly in the air as her hands violated her own, increasingly moist and soft, crotch with a furious pace. Françoise sucked dry one tissue after another, her head buried in the basket, trying to drink and inhale the semen all at once. Her breasts pressed against the floor, kneading back and forth as her body rocked with orgasm just as she swallowed the last drops of semen. Her body relaxed, slowly drawing to full extension onto the floor.



"Lady Françoise, may I have a word with you?" The somewhat overweight secretary of the Visual Culture Club pulled her aside before their first class. Françoise obliged and followed him up the stairs. She had plenty of time, there were still ten minutes to the bell. A laptop snapped open to reveal a mediocre-at-best video clip of her enjoying the evening harvest. "I noticed there was something off with the trash, so I put up a camera. Imagine my surprise when I saw you doing something like this~" She affected her best shame and embarassment: "I-i... I'm sorry, I just can't help myself! I don't want to lose my precious friends..." Oh, was that fatty going to blackmail her? How exciting! "I won't tell anyone if you give me a blowjob before class..."

A lewd, blood-red tongue lashed out of gentle, pink lips, framed by a sea of pearly white. The stench of desperate virginity filled Françoise' head as her tongue and lips wrestled with the secretary's decidedly mediocre penis. He squirmed in his seat, having expected her to be the sort of pure, innocent girl who would think nothing was wrong with changing clothes surrounded by her friends. The ideal Françoise in his mind died that morning, torn to shreds by the expert fellatio whirling all around his head and shaft. His hips shook, trying on instinct to ram his penis as deep into her lewd hole as possible.

After fifteen seconds, his watery load weakly dribbled into her mouth. Obviously he had enjoyed the video thoroughly through the night. Françoise swallowed the delicious virgin semen in an instant - her tongue continued to work his head with almost no pause. Tears welled in his eyes as the obscene doll forced him to harden again under the assault from her lips and mouth. This time the secretary managed to last a whole thirty seconds before Françoise' purpose-made milking mouth drew up another few precious drops to be swallowed.



The bell rang just as Françoise stepped over the treshold. Her stomach felt pleasantly warm as she contently walked to her seat, ignoring the bespectacled Anubis  staring daggers into her back. What a delicious breakfast, she should make a habit of this. Her smile, for once genuine, radiated through the classroom like a saint's aura, drawing the eyes of more than half of the boys. Shivers ran down her back as she savored the feeling of the sweet orgone being drawn into her body from the semen inside her, the energy slowly diffusing all over her. Françoise blushed slightly, and felt a wave of adoration wash over her.

The secretary, meanwhile, lay at the top of the stairs, crying. Françoise had brought him over the edge again and again, milking almost a dozen shots out of his sore member in the few minutes that had passed. His heart was even more broken than his penis - he had imagined himself coercing his beloved pure maiden into sex and a relationship, only to be viciously raped by the disgusting monster that hid inside her. He cried silently to himself on the cold floor for some thirty minutes before pulling his pants up and skipping the rest of the day.

"...Who lives near him? It seems like every week someone's home sick..." The teacher eventually marked the secretary as entirely absent. Françoise smiled her gentle façade of a smile as she held her arm up. "I couldn't let my dear clubmate be hindered in his studies by an illness, Sir. I shall go." Her fanclub groaned and ground their teeth in jealousy - why couldn't Lady Françoise give ME a home visit, huh, they thought in unison. Behind the gentle, lovable mask Françoise silently cackled like a terrifying witch as the teacher let her take care of it.





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	House Visit

"Hello, my dear friend~" Lewd, naked malice dripped from Françoise' soft voice. She conscentiously closed the door behind her as the secratary jumped from his seat in front of the computer in terror. "What are you doing here?!" He scrambled onto the bed and into the corner. "Get away from me, you whore!" Françoise stepped regally to the bedside, swaying her lewd porcelain hips and long, blonde hair with every step. "How rude, Mr. Secretary. Certainly your mother wouldn't allow whore to visit you. Besides, wasn't it yourself who wanted to blackmail me into sex...?"

"You're not who I liked! Slut! Whore! Go to hell!" Françoise sat on his bed, sighing. "You would have liked to rape a pure girl, then?" She flicked her golden hair into her lap as she crossed her legs. "Did you imagine tears of shame and pain rolling down my cheeks as you stole away my precious virginity?" He rocked in the corner, sobbing. "You should be happy, Mr. Secretary. After all, you now know me better than any other club member, isn't that what you always wanted?"

"It's not rape! I... I just wanted to..." Françoise glanced at him from under her brows. "Don't lie to me, please, Mr. Secretary, I know all about rape. In fact, you could say... I am an expert at it~" She pulled her ribbon out of her collar as she drw out the last words. The secretary watched, like a deer in headlights, her unbutton her shirt just enough to reveal the contour of her perfect breasts and step out of her panties. "Why don't you make a bit of effort today, Mr. Secretary...?"



With a sudden jerk Françoise pulled him from away the corner, almost cartwheeling on the bed to slam her pearly, perfectly shaped hips onto his face. Both of the shuddered, she from the living warmth on her cold, artificial lips, he from the cold porcelain on his. Françoise ground her hips into the secretary's face, spreading his moist, warm breath and slimy drool all over her lewd hole. She sighed in pleasure - how many years had it been, now? Decades?

She lowered herself, her back perfectly arched, onto his stomach. He felt her stiff breasts dig into his flabby stomach through their shirts moments before her slender fingers pulled his penis out of his pants. No matter how disgusted he said he saw, Françoise had all the proof she needed in front of her - this pathetically eager cock, already having drenched the fabric with precum, was desperate for her. She, however, continued to molest his face while only blowing onto his dick.

Françoise' hips ground rhythmically into his face as she teased him. She would breathe onto it, the breeze only room-temperature and ever-so-faint. She teasingly extended her wet tongue and just touched his ridge, driving his cock wild. He was desperate for it, even trying to grind his hips into her mouth as she teased him. "Now now, Mr. Secretary. I am a good girl, I would never dream of forcing myself upon someone who detests me as much as you do~" She lifted her hips just enough for him to speak.



"L-lady Françoise...! Please... Please milk me like a cheap whore!" She smirked at his submission. Instantly she rammed her hips back into his mouth and craned her neck, slamming her teeth down to his soft flesh in an instant. Her pleasantly slimy and rough, perfectly molded tongue teased her bottom of his head and shaft all the way down, until her throat wrapped around his glans. The secretary shuddered feverishly, humping her face as if by instinct, and ejaculated into her throat.

The semen was still watery, after only a few hours spent generating more. Still, it was thicked than that morning, and Françoise savored the exquisite, virginal taste even as her insides began to extract and burn the precious orgone contained within. Of course, there was no way she could be satisfied with just one round. Instead, she began to pump her head back and forth, using her throat like an onahole on his head.

After ten strokes he groaned, almost imperceptible through her hips, after twenty he spluttered another serving of orgone into Françoise' throat. The seconds turned into minutes as her mouth violated his penis in every way imaginable, draining more and more of his life force with every ejaculation. Finally the secratary's semen had grown too weak for Françoise' taste, and she lifted herself up off him. With a self-assured smile, she turned to admire her handiwork, or perhaps mouthwork. His drained face seemed to have aged years in less than half an hour.



"Ahn~" Françoise felt herself moisten at the sight, at the energy whirling inside her, at the knowledge he was drained halfway to death. "Mr. Secretary? I don't suppose you shall make it to school tomorrow, given how tired you look. I shall come to attend you again. Please take care~" She didn't know it, but he could not hear her. He had fallen unconscious during her unbridled sexual assault. Françoise took a moment to gather herself, enjoying the warmth emanating from her stomach, and quietly left the room.

"Oh, dear Madam, I am ever so worried for your son! He seems so ill..." Françoise wore her usual mask of perfection as she walked past the secretary's mother. "Thank you so much for visiting him, dear! I'm sure he loves having a cute girl around, too." Françoise outwardly blushed at the innocent comment even as she cackled inside. She was raping that nerd to death and his own mother had no idea! "W-well... I suppose I could come by again tomorrow..."

Françoise walked towards the school with a bounce in her step. Even with this slight setback her plan was coming along nicely. The other club members would surely grow desperate as she lavished her attention on the ill secretary. Her midnight snack would be exquisite. She would have to be careful, though, not to drain the secretary to death too soon. The real prize would be so much more sweet if she could time it perfectly...






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	Hospitalization

The red, glimmering light caught Françoise' eye as she changed out of a policewoman's costume. Really? They were going for the same plan as the secretary? How unoriginal. At least this time the camera was actually pointed where it should be. She took the opportunity to stretch first her back, and then her hamstrings, giving the camera an ample view of her perfect porcelain breasts and buttocks. She felt herself moisten at the thought of all the semen that would be spilled to her image.

She paused to think about her progress. The secretary was now on death's door in the hospital - perhaps it was time to finish it. A soul eaten, a threat removed. An excellent prospect. Françoise spoke aloud, wistfully. "I do worry for our dear secretary... I shall have to visit him today." She watched closely as the other members steamed with impotent jealousy. "I am so sorry to leave in the middle of club activities, but I fear for the health of our dear friend..."

The lust, jealousy and outright hate smelt delicious in her thin, elegant nose. The boys were so desperate for her attention it was almost pathetic. She made sure to leave her freshly worn underwear very visible in her locker. Who would take them, she wondered. Would he only sniff them, or masturbate with them? Perhaps he would lose control and accidentally ejaculate into her black lace panties. Françoise smirked to herself as she left the classroom.



The nurse smiled at Fraçoise. "Oh, young lady, thank you so much for always taking the time to visit him! I'm sure he would thank you himself, if he was awake..." He wouldn't, of course. She laughed inwardly at how easy it was: a seemingly shy, wholesome girl like her - they never suspected a thing. She wondered what would happen if she were to dress more provocatively. She wouldn't be trusted so easily, of course, but maybe she would have more boys to draw on? A thing to think about.

Soon they arrived at the door to the secretary's room. The nurse opened the door and let her in. He was unconscious, as the nurse had let slip, and she sat down under the window to look at him. The once fat young man was now gaunt, drained of his spiritual as well as physical life force. He certainly got what he bargained for, the rat, a would-be rapist raped to death. Françoise' serene smile gave no hint of the sadistic, gleeful leer inside.

It was what he deserved, what they all deserved. All the talk of love and pure waifus, and yet all of them would gleefully violate her given half the chance. Disgusting. Françoise rose, pulled the blanket off the unconscious secretary, and pulled down his pants. His penis seemed so much longer, now that there was no flab for it to hide in. It rose on its own, by now so accustomed to her touch. Finally, it was time.



A deep crimson blazer was thrown to the floor as Françoise climbed onto the hospital bed. She put one hand on the now erect penis as another fingered her own, lewd hole under her skirt. She had not replaced the panties she had left for the boys, in anticipation for this exact moment. She guided him to her almost magically soft lips and fell on him. It felt to good to envelop a man at long last, almost as good as it did to drain one.

Françoise rocked on the bony body, savoring the sensations inside her with every thrust of her pale hips. The grinding on her insides, the soft flesh under her thighs, the hard chest under her fingers, all the most exquisite that she could imagine. She moved gently, as if consummating the sort of true love the boys always fantasized about. Her stiff, artificial bust, however, failed to jiggle and sway the way a human girl's would.

Finally the secretary released his seed and his soul. Thick, viscous fluid flooded her innards even as she felt his vital essence bleed out of his penis and into her receptacle. As good as orgone felt rippling inside her, a soul - that was something even more precious. It almost burned inside her as it began to be consumed. Nothing she had ever felt could come even close to this. She had to fight herself to climb off the bed and call the nurses, preparing to feign shock.



Bells rang as the coffin slowly disappeared into the earth. The sun shone bright on that beautiful winter day, the weather almost as radiant and beautiful as the soul burning within Françoise. She watched without expression as the funeral came to an end. She could use this to thoroughly enjoy this delicious soul. No-one would blame her for staying home sick after the tragic, untimely death of her dearest friend.

The club members walked with her as they left the graveyard. She could feel the satisfaction radiate from them, the hypocritical bastards were glad the secretary was dead. They had swallowed her line all the way, the jealous idiots really thought the dearly departed had had some special relationship with her. Well, he had, of course, he was raped to death by her. She was sure that wasn't the way they had imagined it, though. Finally time came to part ways, and she took a long detour to hide her true destination.

A few hours later, Françoise lay in the dark annex, as she had for so long. The soul being annihilated inside her felt so good... Every moment was bliss, every memory and personality trait burning up filled her with pleasure. During the long, hungry decades between her rampages she had wondered if this was the best path to take - if it were better to live a normal life, after all, to try living like her façade for once. But this pleasure, this made all the painful years spent alone in the darkness all worth it.