The Fuckdoll Certification Ch. 03

When the truth finally came out, it was no more a surprise than finding out that the sky was blue; I'd known, or heavily suspected, for weeks that Ashley wasn't a fan site model, and never really had been. The JustAdmirers Fuckdoll Certification was a real thing, she just wasn't working on it. In fact, she'd never even been eligible; you had to actually have a profile on the site to enroll in the program, and the steady stream of supposed rejections that she was piling up just didn't add up. I'd wasted half my life away watching and worshiping porn in all of its various forms, and Ashley's mouth alone should have easily classified her among the greats of all time. Her failure to complete even a handful of the qualification's requisite tasks didn't track. It was all bullshit, but I so didn't care.

This was fantasy. All of it. For her, I assumed the thrill of pretending to be something so perverse was the main attraction. I don't doubt that some part of her was genuinely enjoying the sex, but the whole thing must have been just part of an elaborate roleplay for her. She got to be the filthy little fuckdoll that she wanted and didn't have to worry about her family or friends finding out, or whatever else kept her from actually committing to the bit.

I don't think I need to tell you what was keeping me from calling her out.

And so it was, on a hot summer's night some two months after she'd casually strolled into my life, that the hammer finally dropped on our little charade. We'd perfected the routine, our little game of make-believe, by then; we'd spend the weekend violating each other in the most unspeakable ways, all on film, she'd 'send the videos in' to be verified by the JustAdmirers officials, and some time later in the week she would fake her disappointment to find that her application to complete one of the hundred tasks had been denied for some reason or another. She'd put on a show of pouting at her phone, which I was never allowed to see, saying that we'd have to redo the shot, I'd fake disappointment, and we'd do the whole thing over again.

This time, she sneezed.

I don't know why having to face the reality of her deception mattered; I'd made my mind up that the truth of her fantasy wouldn't change the way that I felt about her, but I still pulled a face. I know I did. She sat, as she did most nights, curled up in a blanket fortress on my bed while I wrapped up some work, scrolling through her 'emails', loudly sighing before launching into her practiced routine of disappointed apologies to me for having to suck my dick again. But then she sneezed. The phone tumbled from her hand, arcing through the air in a dreamy trajectory to land, face up, on the floor between us to reveal the JustAdmirers rejection email that looked suspiciously similar to a calculator app.

She looked at me in horror.

I grimaced, slightly.

She squeaked.

I opened my mouth to speak.

She flew out from beneath the covers, snatched the phone up in a hurry, and raced out my room, past my roommate in the living room that she'd been desperate to hide herself from since she started coming around, and disappeared through the apartment door altogether.

And just like that, as abruptly as she'd come into my life, she was gone.

"Who the fuck was that?" yelled my oblivious flatmate down the hall.

I didn't bother answering. It didn't matter anymore.

*******

I languished in my heartbreak for longer than you'd expect, considering I'd only known Ashley for 7 or 8 weeks. Still, despite our refusal to broach the topic of whether we were an actual item or not, it felt like a breakup, and I absolutely rotted in the squalor of my misery. The sex had been otherworldly, but I knew in my heart that it was more than that. I'd only just begun to admit to myself that it was a whole lot more, and now there was nowhere to direct it.

I'd never experienced much of a breakup before, so I very likely overdid it. Determined not to let myself be shackled to my own orbit of lonely masturbation disguised as a hobby, I began with a purge. All of it, every megabyte of porn, every magazine, every collector's edition DVD, and pair of panties I'd ever ordered was either deleted or tossed. The regret hit me like a ton of bricks almost immediately, but it was really for the best; I was sure of that. I stopped blowing off my roommate's invitations to go out on Friday nights, and managed a pathetic rebound hookup with a girl who gave the single laziest, saddest handjob of all time. I doubled down at work, slamming projects off my to-do list at a rate that, frankly, began to alarm my boss; I was 'encouraged' to take a week off just to avoid flaming out.

"You're no good to us if you're dead," my boss joked one Friday afternoon late in August, "why don't you go fuck around for a week and we'll talk about getting you some real projects when you get back, eh? And maybe we can talk about an adjustment to your comp package while we're at it, yeah? Gotta make sure we keep you around a while if you're going to keep putting out like this!"

I dreaded having to face that much time by myself, but resignedly accepted his offer.

*******

In truth, there wasn't anything remarkable about the city itself; it was just sort of a default option after I'd graduated a few years prior. I'd taken an offer from a local tech company to help out with their project management team and opted to settle in for a while before exploring other options. The work was fine, and the town was familiar, so I just let myself enjoy the comfort of being somewhere I knew. Five years had skipped by just like that.

Even so, the week off grew stale by that Thursday. There's only so many times you can drive downtown and mindlessly wander in and out of local bookshops or coffee joints. I should have left town, maybe visited my parents.

Still, the late summer meant a return of the students, which my dorky ass roommate fondly referred to as a 'refresh of the talent pool'. He wasn't wrong, even if it was a little crude; sipping my inexplicably overpriced coffee as I drove back to the apartment to mindlessly waste the rest of my day in the lobby of a game I didn't even really enjoy, the sights of a thousand fresh-faced coeds packing the streets, supervising their dads and boyfriends as boxes or sofas were heaved up stairs into dorms, did warm my heart a little. One sprightly thing, wearing nothing so much as a bandana for a top while she waited for a crosswalk light to turn green, reminded me fondly of Ashley. Her tits weren't as perky, but they were close.

"Hey dick nuts," my roommate greeted me as I let myself in, "where've you been?"

"Same place as usual," I replied, "absolutely fucking nowhere."

"Oh cheer up you sad sack of shit, you can't mope around all summer. I mean, you kinda did, but still, how bad can it be? Huh?"

"I dunno man," I said halfheartedly, crossing the living room to stand by the window, "I'm just bored I guess." I'd told him all about Ashley, minus some of the more intimate details, after she'd scurried out that day, but his sympathy only extended so far.

"Well come on," Jeff said, mashing the buttons of his game controller with artless ferocity, "let's go out tonight, yeah? The college girls are moving back in this weekend; why don't we go do the polite thing and show some of 'em a good time?"

"Yeah I guess," I offered in distracted reply, watching a small van back into the parking lot, "if you want."

"We can do Gabe's, or Hawk's maybe?"

"Uh huh, yeah," I said, still not really listening as he continued to plate up his mediocre suggestions; the van doors opened, disgorging a teenaged kid and his parents. He looked young to be starting school.

"I'll give Jason a call and see if he's up for it too; you know that fucker pulls!" he laughed. Another figure climbed out of the van as the dad yanked the back hatch up.

"Oh fuck!" I exclaimed, squinting down in disbelief.

"Yeah? Yeah! Okay, I'll text him now then! Should we pre-game here then? we'll start nice and early, maybe like 2:00 you think?" my roommate asked excitedly, misreading my enthusiasm as interest in his half-baked plan.

"I don't think I can man, sorry," I explained, tossing my cup toward the trash on my way back out the door, "I'm think I'm busy!"

His confused barrage of curses followed me even through the slammed door.

*******

I had no real plan at all, but figured that I could just insert myself into the situation somehow and wing it from there. Tearing a ream of paper towel from the dispenser in the building's laundry room and plundering a pail from the adjacent maintenance room, I aimed to improvise the world's shittiest car wash.

"Sweetheart, did you really need to pack all of this?" called her father, beholding the mountain of boxes facing him in the rear of the vehicle.

"Yeah idiot, how many clothes do you need to pretend to wear anyway? We all know you're just gonna sit around farting in your gross sweat pants all year anyway!" The younger sibling chided as I crossed the lot; the path to my car would take me right past the family. I couldn't see Ashley around the side of the vehicle, but I'd make sure she saw me if I could.

"That's enough out of you, both of you," her mother said sternly, "just grab a box and let's get moving. I'd like to be back on the road before the end of time." I was only a few paces away then, and sloshing the bucket's contents all over myself in my careless need to confirm it was really her.

"Sorry," she said finally coming to view around the cab, "I was just..." the words died in her throat as she finally clapped eyes on me, lurching through the lot like a first-rate lunatic. She'd dyed her hair. Blonde. I carried on by, giving her dad a curt nod and offering a wide smile for her mother as I sauntered on by. I'd sit out there, a mere 20 feet from her whole family, pretending to clean my disastrously dirty car all day if it meant forcing a confrontation out of her.

I will admit, Ashley did a tremendous job of ignoring me for the better part of an hour. Her poor family made a dozen trips in and out of the squat apartment building and she only deigned to look my way twice as I enthusiastically pretended to wipe the same spot on my dash over and over.

"Are we done yet?" her brother groaned, "it's a billion degrees out here and I'm hungry as balls."

"More like hungry *for* balls, you little creep," she said, shooting me a viperous look of indignation as she gave the lad a sisterly shove.

"Quit it you two," her mother rebuked them again, "Glen, what do you say we grab a bite before we head out? Then we can drop Ashley off after and get going?" Her father grunted his agreement and climbed back behind the wheel. Ashely, turning from the door before climbing in to join her family, tugged her phone from her pocket and angrily pointed at it while staring directly at me; the message was clear. Pick up your phone, idiot. I'd left the thing inside.

Pouring the unused water onto the pavement and rushing back inside to shut myself in my room, I opened the first of nearly a dozen missed messages from her.

= You have to be kidding me

= You're not going to sit there all day

= Come on

= Please

= This is so awkward

= I know you're not ignoring me right now

= Enjoying the show?

= Please, don't do this

= We can talk later, just stop being a weirdo

= I get it, you're mad. I'm sorry. Really. Can you please just go in and I'll come up later? Okay? I'm sorry.

= Did you hit your head while I was gone or are you just that mad? This sucks. Please.

= Fuck you then.

I really should have brought it out with me. The indignation felt well earned.

+ I'm sorry, I didn't have my phone on me

The ellipses next to "Ashley is typing..." taunted me for a long minute, disappeared, and carried on dancing again. I begged them to resolve into an actual message. Anything.

= hi

I winced. Anything else would have been better.

+ I'm sorry

Another minute passed. And another.

= why?

+ That was too much

= No shit

I might have really overstepped. Fucking idiot. We'd be doing this the hard way then.

+ Have a good summer?

= Yeah for sure, I fucked a thousand guys and they all had enormous dicks

+ Same same

= You're an idiot

+ I know :(

Nothing came back for an eternity, at least. I broke my own rule and double texted.

+ I liked being your idiot though

I realized I was pacing. I heard Jason come in, and Jeff loudly pitching his voice to make sure I heard him rue my miserable mood.

"I don't care if you're mopey dipshit, come shotgun these beers or I'll come in there and get you myself!" Jason urged. With nothing coming back from Ashley, I decided a dozen drinks might be just what I needed.

The boys were a decent distraction, and I nearly managed to forget the pit of desperate need dragging along walls of my gut. Two hours flew by in an instant, and a heady buzz had me ready to commit to an evening in their company instead of souring the last of my week off waiting for my phone to buzz.

"Well lads," Jason proclaimed as he slammed his last empty can onto the coffee table, "what do you say we make our way to the bus stop and get this shit show on the fucking road, eh?" Jeff agreed heartily, and I excused myself to take a piss before we left.

I stood before the mirror, washing my hands, trying desperately to resolve my blurring vision into something like clarity when I felt the familiar buzz in my pocket, sobering me in an instant.

= 509.

Nothing more. Just that. 509.

I needed a way out.

"Come on dude!" came the rallying cry from the door.

"I can't!"

"Don't! Don't even try it! NO! Fuck you!" one of them began pounding on the door. Thinking fast, I turned on the taps again, retching loudly and cupping handfuls of the water into the toilet as I did so.

"You're joking!" Jeff yelled with a laugh, "God, you're such a lightweight. Come on." With that, my flimsy ruse worked, and I shortly heard them shut the door behind them.

I waited as long as I could stand after they left. Wanting to feel like I stood any chance to impress, I briefly considered changing before I headed up to the next floor. Deciding that a change of shirt was unlikely to make things any different, I huffed loudly and fought to quell my thundering heartbeat as I struck out for her place.

In all our time together, I had never been to Ashley's; I knew she lived in the building, obviously, but she seemed content to hang out at my place. Turning out of the stairwell, I spotted her door and knocked.

There was no answer.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

+ I'm here

Still, no response. I pressed my ear to the door and heard nothing. This was some game. My phone lit up again.

= I didn't tell you to knock

I pushed open the door.

The apartment was similar to mine, entering into a living area with an open kitchen to the side and a single hall that led to a number of bedrooms and washroom branching to the left. I scanned the living room for some sign of Ashley, but there was none to be found. Many of the boxes her family had toted up were still in the middle of the living room floor, but there were too many shoes at the door to be hers alone; I prayed any room mates she might have were out.

She must be in one of the bedrooms.

The first, covered in boyband and k-pop posters with a startling number of cushions on the bed, was empty. The second, strung with cheap plastic ivy vines and a shockingly blunt neon sign above the bed that read "Cunt" for some unknown reason, didn't contain my prize either.

The last room, at the end of the hall, did.

Larger than the other two rooms, the bed had room to step around on both sides from where it was tucked up under the window, whereas the other two girls were forced to make due by pushing theirs to one side or the other. A modest dresser, wide closet, and a small desk piled with books for the coming term completed the dark room's furnishings.

Well, almost completed.

How she had texted me while I was outside the door and still wriggled herself into position was beyond me, but that was less than half as interesting as what my eyes found on the bed anyway.

Ashley, wearing only a green garter belt, which wasn't clipped to anything else, and a cupless bra-like top accessory, had managed to restrain herself to the headboard by what appeared to be a pair of cleverly knotted bath robe ties, snuggly fitted around each wrist to draw her arms up above her head. A dark sleeping mask covered her eyes, shielding her vision of my slack-jawed stare as I realized that the bit of green fabric poking through her lips must belong to her panties. She heard the door crack, and spread her legs, feet planted wide apart on the softer cover. Her familiar little tuft of long dark pubic hair stood at attention for me, beckoning me in.

"Oh Ashley..." I whispered.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again.

= Hi. I gave my phone to my roommates for the night but typed this out and asked them to send it for me. Don't worry. they won't be bothering us. I'm really sorry about everything. I'm really, really sorry actually. You were good and kind and lovely to me, and I fucked everything up and didn't even have the guts to say anything to you all summer. That's shitty. I can't even bring myself to do it now, hence the panties in my mouth. And the blindfold. I liked when you were my idiot too. A lot. And I liked being yours.

= I obviously made a pretty dumb mistake and I want to talk about that as soon as we're done here, because I really liked the idea of doing all that with you and actually doing the stuff on the list. I want to be a fuckdoll, but I really want to just be one for you. If that sounds good, if you want me to be your little fuckdoll again, then let me. Please.

It was very hot all of a sudden, which had little to do with the late summer air blowing in through the open window. She was just as perfect as I remembered. Her body was soft in all the ways I loved it to be, and deliciously worthy of affectionate worship as it had ever been. Her chest heaved slightly with nervous breaths; she could obviously hear that I was in the room. God, the guts that it must have taken to splay herself in such an open display like that must have been staggering. Her legs, freshly shaved, practically gleamed in the low light of the dark room. Manicured fingers wrapped themselves tightly in her bonds.

+ You'll be out for a few hours?

= lol yes, hurry up and fuck her you idiot. we'll be back late late. have fun, perverts :p

I'd have a word with her about who she talked to about us when this was over.

Tossing the phone onto her desk, I dropped my pants and briefs, kicking them aside and lobbing my shirt to join the pile. It took a concerted effort to actually touch her; reaching out timidly as I approached the foot of her bed, I ran a hand down her thighs softly. She inhaled hard through her nose.

Kneeling my way onto the bed between her spread legs, I touched her. Everywhere. I'd sworn up and down, all summer, that I was going to be fine not touching her again, but that lie was revealed for what it was over and over as I rubbed, squeezed, cupped, and caressed every inch of her tan skin. She responded to each contact, writhing this way and that slightly to respond to my touch, rocking her hips as I ran my hands up her thighs, or pushing her chest forward as I cupped at her chest. The way she nuzzled into the hand I placed on her cheek unleased a furious flock of fluttering things inside of me all over again. She jerked her head the other way as I tried to pluck the panties from her mouth; she clearly wanted them to stay in.

I kissed her body. I kissed the soft pad of warm tummy along the band of the garter belt. I kissed up her torso, along her sternum, and drew each of her pert nipples into my mouth in turn. I lavished a dozen wet smooches along her collarbones, unconcerned that my stiff cock had flopped against her as I leaned across her naked body. A small whimper, hardly audible, bubbled up in her throat as I kissed along her neck; the hand I kept low on her hip reported her insistent wiggle as I did so. I kissed her forehead tenderly.