Monkey Steals Peach

Note: This story is heavily based on some Japanese style doll fetish stuff. “Dutch wife” is the Japanese term for love doll (derived from a term for body pillows), and “onaho” (short for “onanism hole”) basically refers to a fleshlight or any other kind of artificial vagina used for masturbation. In Japan love dolls and onaho are often sold separately, to be used together. The local summer festival had thus far been fun, in a cliche, predictable kind of way. One way or another their other friends hadn’t been able to make it, leaving Ayumi as Midori’s only company. They made the best of it, playing carnival games, eating cotton candy and yakisoba, and so on. It was like they were kids again. The lack of any male company wasn’t great, but they made do. At Ayumi’s insistence they tried the haunted house. Midori wasn’t afraid herself, but she didn’t want to deal with Ayumi screeching her lungs out at every little thing. Even so they went in. There was the predictable dry ice, a girl in a kimono with lots of fake blood, eyeballs hung on strings, that kind of thing. Then they found themselves in a room with no way out. At first the room seemed to have nothing but featureless blue walls, with a floor and ceiling to match. A blue cube. “I hope something interesting happens here,” said Ayumi. “I hope we can get out soon,” said Midori. After an uncomfortably long pause, the room seemed to shudder, and strange symbols glowed on the walls in white, ominous and occult. Ayumi let out a cry, while Midori was on guard, ready for whatever might be coming next. As she was trying to make sense of the symbols on the walls, Midori found she was overcome with a feeling of fatigue that made her slump down against a wall. “What’s…?” She could just barely move. Ayumi was making to check on her, but she too slumped to the floor. She couldn’t tell how long it was before a door opened and a man stepped in. He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a cheap carnival mask, an Ultraman mask covered in spidery calligraphy. “It’s working,” he said, grinning. “What’s… working…?” Midori managed. “My hand…” Ayumi feebly held up her hand, and it had started to turn an unnatural pinkish color. Midori could see it happening to Ayumi’s other hand and her feet as well, and it kept creeping up her limbs. “What’s happening?” “You’re going to make the most adorable pocket pussy.” As the change started to creep into Ayumi’s torso, her limbs began to shrink into it. “But—” She cut herself off with a groan of pure pleasure. “You won’t get away with this,” Midori growled. “Oh, but there’s a different fate awaiting you.” For Midori the changes started with her toes. They fused together into one solid lump, and then ballooned out a little as the transformation began to work its way up from there. Her legs took on a uniform, cartoon-like flesh tone, with seams running down the sides, every inch making them a little more puffy and unnatural, with the faint wrinkles of inflated plastic. And she hated to admit it, but every little twinge of the change felt good, like a lustful caress. As her legs spread out wide, bending at the knees, she risked a glance back at her friend, and saw Ayumi had shrunk down even further. They really were turning Ayumi into an onaho, and she was moaning with pleasure every step of the way. Nothing had prepared Midori for what happened when the transformation hit her crotch though. Something rubbery pushed its way out of her vagina, pinkish like whatever Ayumi was turning into, and with a molded opening like a vagina. And she could feel it as though it were a part of her. Ayumi’s cries finally subsided, leaving a plastic sex toy sitting on the floor. The man picked it up and stroked it, and there was a faint, high-pitched moan from it. It had no limbs, but it had Ayumi’s head and breasts in miniature, the face contorted with pleasure. Midori meanwhile had the changes creeping up her torso. As it got over her belly button, an air valve popped out, making the air-filled lower half of her body shudder, and there was no doubt what was going to become of her. “You’re really turning me into a Dutch wife?” “Yeah. And you’re going to love it.” When it got to her breasts, she felt them expand, at least a cup size bigger than before, and felt the nipples push out, forming two more air valves, but colored pink. She was breathing hard from the sheer pleasure of it, even if it was blended with a heavy dose of fear. The change forced her arms up to her sides, leaving them bulbous and ridiculous-looking, with puffy paws instead of hands. But, curiously, it seemed to stop at her neck, leaving her head human, for now at least. She looked down at her bizarre body, then looked up into her assailant’s mask. “Now what?” Some part of her wanted to be fucked, and hard. She needed something in her pussy right away. She could detect a grin behind that mask as he reached out, took hold of her pussy, and started pulling it out. “Wh-What?! Don’t!” The sensation was so strange, so intense, that the least movements elicited little cries and moans from her. Finally, it came free with a little popping sound, and wobbled a bit in his grip. He now had an onaho in each hand, one a plain cylinder, and the other that was Ayumi. And she had an empty hole where her pussy should be. There had been days when Midori would’ve rather not had a vagina, when menstrual cramps made her want to wish it all away, but to have some masked weirdo just pull it out of her body was beyond strange. Then he slid Ayumi inside of the empty hole. As the pinkish onaho slid into place, she started to be able to feel through it. It felt different somehow, and there was something indescribably Ayumi-like about it. The man took off his boxers. He was already fully erect, and in any other situation she’d have found him thoroughly average. He set Midori on her back, and the pulled out a little bottle of clear liquid. He squirted a little onto her pussy, carefully set it down within arm’s reach, and then started to fuck her. She was no virgin, but the intensity of this was unlike anything she’d felt before. “No… Stop…” she protested feebly. “Nnnngggh!” The force of his hips moving up and down rocked her whole inflatable body, and as it went on she started to feel something strange happening to her face. “Mfffffb,” she said through cheeks that were unnaturally puffing up. Something was pushing out of her mouth, another silicone fuck hole. As he came inside of her, she came in unison with the force of a freight train, and Ayumi seemed to shudder inside of her. Her whole face seemed to push outward and smooth out, and her head became another inflatable part of her body. Finally, he rolled off of her, gasping, and put his boxers back on. He sat up, and lifted Midori to a sitting position. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, on her neck and breast, and even that faint touch was arousing. He gestured at a wall, and it became a mirror. She could still see and think, somehow. She could see herself, an inflatable Dutch wife with legs in an M pose, silicone inserts for pussy and mouth, eyes painted on. She expected him to deflate her first, but instead he took hold of her hair, and carefully pulled it off, leaving her inflatable doll head bald. In that state she barely recognized herself. Then he pulled the onahole out of her mouth, leaving a gaping plastic hole, and then pulled the dribbling Ayumi out from her crotch. If she still had the ability to talk, Midori would’ve moaned the whole while. When that was done, he opened the valves on her nipples, and her breasts deflated. Then came the valve in her belly button. At least it would be the last thing, for now. As the air came out of her, she flattened, and he very neatly folded her up and put all the parts into a box. ...

A few years back, Frank’s weird bachelor uncle had died. Frank had been hoping to inherit some money or something, but that mostly went to Frank’s other siblings and their kids. Frank got a necklace. An amulet. It looked like amber, with a figure of a woman embedded inside. He’d thought of selling it, but left it in a drawer for a few years. Things changed when a package came, with his Uncle Fred’s diary in it. That was when he found out what the pendant was supposedly really about. It was supposed to be magic. His first thought was that that was actually bullshit, but it made some other things about Fred fall into place. Frank took to wearing the amulet regularly, looking for the right chance to use it. Being a plumber, he figured it was just a matter of time before he had to fix the toilet for a hot piece of ass. His chance came after a couple weeks, when he got called to the apartment of a single woman off of Central. Her kitchen sink wasn’t draining, which was simple enough to fix. She was slender and athletic, with tits that strained at her tight T-shirt, bright blue eyes, and blond hair. He set his tools down by the sink, and held the amulet in his hand, muttering the alien words that had been in his uncle’s diary. This was where he either got what he wanted or felt like a total idiot, and his heart was pounding. The woman—her name was Sarah Parker—looked up, and slowly walked over to him. There was a glaze to her eyes, but he didn’t care because she was pushing herself up against him. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy by any means, he just didn’t really know how to deal with women. The feel of her putting her arms around him, her breath on his neck, was everything he’d hoped for. He’d watched women built like this in the street, at the mall. He kissed her, and she kissed back. It was working. Unless he’d stumbled onto the set of a porno or something, the magic was working. He ran his hands along her curves, and started pulling down her jeans. He had to get her naked for the second part to work. She was wearing ordinary white panties, and following his cue, she shimmied out of her jeans the rest of the way, exposing her shapely legs. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, revealing the bulge in his boxers. She gently touched it, making it stiffen even more, and then pulled her shirt off. Her bra was also plain white, but it gave him a great view of her chest. She pushed her body against his again, and kissed him on his mouth, down to his neck. He reached to her back and, after a little fumbling, unclasped her bra. She let it fall to the floor, and then slid her panties down too. He took her by the hand to the back, where he found a messy bedroom with clothes and books strewn on the floor. Without being told she lay on the bed and spread her legs. Frank had to remember the right way to do it. Poised over her, pointing with two fingers, he traced the first lines, around her breasts. Each time he formed a seam, and each time the breast seemed to grow and stiffen. She let out a little moan. He traced the lines around her shoulders, around her neck. Then he delicately traced the lines along her arms and hands. It was working. There were the little raised seams on her still-warm skin. He drew the lines from her armpits to her waist, and she giggled just slightly. Then around her waist, then about the crotch, his hand getting within inches of her dripping pussy, and finally along the legs. Now for the fun part. He finished undressing, and positioned himself over her. He rammed his cock inside her, and she cried out loud enough to wake the neighbors. After a few strokes he pulled out, because he was going to just cum everywhere. But it had been enough. He saw that her pussy now looked oddly rounded, and pinkish. He remembered something else from the diary, and he grabbed hold of her nipples and pulled, watching the breasts go up a cup size. He also squeezed her waist in a little, making her that much slimmer. He had to finish all three holes for the process to finish. He turned her over, straddled her again, and rammed his way into her ass. His grip was making squeaking sounds now, and her skin felt more plastic. The hole was tight at first, but it widened, and she cried out again. Finally there was the mouth. He maneuvered around a bit awkwardly, and finally decided to try 69ing it, sticking his dick in her mouth while he licked her pussy. The sounds coming out of her mouth vibrated his dick as he kept thrusting and licking, but they slowly subsided. He felt her limbs moving just slightly, her legs spreading apart and her arms bending at the elbows, as he busted a load into her mouth. When he rolled over next to her, he saw that it had worked. He had his love doll, and she was fucking beautiful, better than any doll you could buy in a store. “Was it good for you?” he murmured, then laughed. Once he’d caught his breath, he pulled out her plug, which was in her belly button. He got dressed, cleaned out her mouth, and put her in a grocery bag. He went home with the biggest damn smile on his face, and nearly got into an accident. A week later he got his pink slip from the plumbing company. It wasn’t actually a pink slip, but a meeting with Rob at the office and some paperwork in white. Having an unfinished job, with a female customer vanishing had caught up to him, and really, he was lucky he was just losing his job. After spending a week or so drinking and cursing, he figured he had to hit the pavement again. The pizza place a couple blocks from his house hired him fairly quickly, and the neighborhood got treated to the sight of a pizza delivery van. It was a shit job with shit pay, but on the other hand it wasn’t a literally shit job like being a plumber. There was also the possibility of using the amulet. He hadn’t stopped wearing it. Maybe it’d get him in trouble, but maybe he could get a doll to top Sarah. He got his chance when he was delivering a Hawaiian pizza (why the hell do people eat those?) to a pretty nice house near Park Avenue. The woman who opened the door was wearing a sheer bathrobe, open to reveal black lingerie underneath. In the warm lights of her house, she looked like a photo from one of the Playboys he’d had when he was a teenager, with sexy curves, full breasts, and, when he finally looked at her face, sensual lips, teased-out blond hair, and sultry eyes. It was like he’d walked into a porno again. She stepped aside, and motioned him to come in. The interior of the house had white walls, with the lamps in the shapes of naked women, like old statues. The woman got just close enough to him for her chest to brush up against his. He felt something in his pocket, and when he glanced down he saw she was pushing a twenty in there. “For the pizza. Though if you’d like you could stay a while.” Who the hell cared about pizza? Fuck the pizza. His dick was already straining against his jeans. Frank stopped himself from shouting “Fuck yes!” at the top of his lungs. “I’m game if you are.” ...

I was never interested in meeting new people online, but that was how I met Evangelina. I have this obsession that I can’t bring myself to speak of in person, and like entirely too many other people, the internet provided a safe place to let my twisted side run free. Evangelina liked what she saw in me, and went to great pains to get in touch. At first I wasn’t interested, but she was persistent and charming. I was worried that she was a G.I.R.L. (Guy In Real Life) dicking with me, but she just didn’t give up. She sent pictures, then set up a webcam feed for me to look at. She was a beautiful woman, with an even more beautiful smile, and perfect black hair. She asked me so many questions, and I found myself telling her more and more about myself, my life, all the truth. I learned that she was a third-generation Mexican-American, a successful graphic designer, and like me, she had something twisted about her that she couldn’t share with anyone else. ...

There was once a boy who bought an inflatable love doll. He was technically old enough that we could call him a man, but in many ways he was still a boy. For various reasons—among them his little sister’s naked Barbie dolls—he had a “thing” for dolls, a thing he couldn’t explain and couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone else about. Thus, he did not buy the doll because he couldn’t find a girlfriend (though he couldn’t), but rather because it was something he wanted, so much that just knowing the box was in his backpack as he left the adult novelties store on the other side of town excited him and threatened to force other thoughts out of his head. ...

In this day and age, they tell every young man (and woman) who wants to become a wizard (or witch, sorcerer, sorceress, warlock, etc.) that the world doesn’t need magic anymore. This, Colin knew, was bullshit. Or at best, a half-truth. His specialty was polymorphism, and even before he’d graduated, he’d realized that virtually every human being alive wanted magic, provided it would meekly obey their desires. He had become a rich man by making fat women thin and ugly men handsome, and occasionally the reverse. ...

Rob’s heart pounded as he fumbled with his keys. No one was in the corridor, and his discovery was in a plain brown box, but it had no top, and the flesh tone would be visible to anyone who was at the right angle. Once he was inside, he heaved a sigh of relief, though his heart wouldn’t stop banging away. He pulled the love doll out of the box and laid it out on the bed. The face especially was much more realistic than he’d expected, and it had an odd expression. Annoyed? He took off his jacket, and, carrying out the plan he’d gone over in his head relentlessly on the walk home, cleaned the doll with bleach and hot water just in case. Even the texture of the latex excited him. ...

Two short stories about Balloon Girls. The Balloon Girl at the Park There’s a girl I sometimes see at the local park. She’s one of those inflatable girls, the real thing and not one of those pale imitations they sell as “adult novelties.” And she flaunts it too. Her mouth is not a pathetic O, but a confident smile, a bold parenthesis. She likes to show off her midriff, letting the world see how instead of a belly button she has a plug, like a pool toy. ...

(This short story is an attempt to convey something I have no idea how to write as a full-length story. I can’t write a sex scene to save my life). Philip was nearly ready to close up when a young woman, maybe twenty years old came into the shop. She looked around for half a minute, obviously nervous, then turned to him. “A friend of mine told me you could help me with something… unusual.” ...

The date had been nice. Nothing special. A nice dinner at a sushi restaurant and a pretty average movie. Greg had been fun to talk to, with a lot of stories about college. Now came the part this had all been building up to. They were standing in Kate’s apartment facing each other, and they were both trying to feel out what would come next. Kate swallowed and said, “Um, Christine said there’s this thing you can do…” Greg hesitated, then grinned. “I… thought you liked me for my personality?” She held up her hands, “I do! But I’m also interested in that thing you can do.” “Did she tell you about it in detail?” “She said that it felt unbelievably good, and that I should trust you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re either way braver or way hornier than I thought. Okay.” He took a step closer, so that she could feel his breath. “What happens is, I kiss you, and you don’t pull away no matter what, for any reason, and then tomorrow morning things go back to normal for you.” Kate nodded. “Okay.” He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other hand on the back of her head, and pulled her closer, into a kiss. No fancy tongue stuff, in fact at first it was sort of boring. Then she started to feel a tingling. It started in her chest, and started spreading all over her body. She started breathing hard through her nose, felt her heart beat faster, felt a heat building inside of her. It was such an ordinary kiss, and she was already getting wet from that alone. The first sign that something was odd was that her chest started to feel tight. She raised her left hand up and touched her breast, and actually felt it expand in her hand. She instinctively tried to pull away, just a little, but Brad held her in place, pushing his lips against hers a little harder, and said “uh-uh” through the kiss. It felt good, but also strange. The tingling and tightness grew in her chest, and she felt her breasts straining against her bra, her nipples becoming rock-hard. Then she felt and heard the fabric starting to tear. With Greg’s face taking up most of her vision, she could just barely see her bare skin through the tear in her shirt, except the color looked wrong. When she touched it she felt plastic. Greg took the hand that had been at her back and used it to grab at the tear in her clothes and pull, exposing her chest to the air. He rubbed his hand across them, and it made squeaking noises, and caused a shockwave of pleasure. Her nipples seemed unyielding, unnaturally hard. And still he kept kissing her. When she held up her hand, she saw it turn that plastic color in front of her eyes, the color spreading like a slowly growing puddle of water. The tingling, almost an itching sensation, was more intense in a circle around her wrist, in a line going down her arm, and she watched out of the corner of her eye and the lines of sensation started to become seams. ...