The Doll Who Loved Me
Copyright© 2025 by Gigi Potemkin
Chapter 11
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 11 - The story of a lonely, young man being haunted by his sex doll.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Horror Mystery Dolls FemaleDom Interracial
GASP!
His lungs woke him up, the shortness of breath like a noose around his neck. «What...?! Wha...?!» The pleasant memories of that night faded into the void. Memories? Or really just ... dreams? «What is happening?!» He gasped and struggled. Something was squeezing his belly, crushing his guts. «Joh ... anna?!»
He remembered, oh, he did so vividly, the tight embrace of Johanna around his waist, her lovely arms loving him further with a hug unlike any other he had ever gotten, ever, from any woman or any person whatever.
«O que...?! Cristo dos céus, o que está acontec-?!!» He tried getting up, sitting on the bed, but a much greater weight pulled him back, further deep into the sheets. «Deusdeusdeus...!!» Survival instinct kicked in, making him struggle harder. As with some plants and spider webs, however, the harder he struggled, the more trapped he became. «Please, please ... solta!! Let me ... oh!» He begged, he squealed, and then she screamed: “LET ME GO!!”
And the pressure around his belly... Wrroooom!
Gasp! A breath. Fresh air.
Gasp! Gasp! Gasp!! One breath. More breaths. Many breaths. Deep breaths. Desperate breaths. Relieved breaths. “Cristo! Cris... gulp! Cristo!”
Many seconds underwater, he felt he’d spent. An agony all the greater considering the frailty of his lungs. “What ... oh, cristo, what...?!” He looked around. Moved his hands and tapped his bedsheets in the dark.
The mattress beneath him. The sweat on his body. A body. A body on his back. A hug. A tight hug on his body, around his belly, though no longer constricting, no longer suffocating as he’d felt just then. “What the fuck...?!” He fumbled around with his hands behind him, feeling hardness, toughness all over his fingers.
Muscles. Muscles the likes of which only a god could flaunt.
Power. Power so extreme only a hero could boast.
A mighty god, a mythic hero. A fake, plastic woman.
“Y-you...” He muttered, still gasping for air. With the greater laxness around his waist, he could finally turn around a bit and gaze upon ... her. “You.” His hot breath touched her face and flowed back, much cooler, onto his skin. “You ... what are you...?”
He looked around. Darkness. Darkness and sweat blurring his eyes. He touched his forehead, breathed deeply a couple more times, then relaxed again, the bedsheets clinging to his back, making wet noises with his excessive transpiration. «What ... what has just happened?»
On his shoulders, very firm and lovely pats. «Love? Love. Love!» A voice growing concerned. A voice of true «love! Hey, love! My love! What’s going on?»
He rolled his eyes. «Not now. No. Not... »
He paused. The pain of his brain being split apart by conflicting thoughts caused him to halt and wonder, to ponder whether he really needed or wanted to be alone that night. Or any other night, forever.
«No. No more fantasies. No more fictions. Not tonight. Not now that I have... »
...
...
A girlfriend.
He had a girlfriend, after all.
Broom!
...
Woom, woom ... bruump! Behind his back, the sounds of something moving. Of something ... someone ... big and heavy waking up, sitting by his side, and fondling his shoulders with strong, steady hands. «Let me be a fantasy.» There was a lot of disappointment in that voice, that voice of heavens, but also acceptance. Like someone owning up to one’s faults and learning to work around them. «So be it. But I am your fantasy, and that’s what I was meant to be.» Her fondles became firmer, like her tone. «Please, lover, do not deny me my purpose. Not any longer.»
He turned to her, his face still strained, his suffocation still echoing in his trembling eyes. “H-hey.”
He smiled, and his lover happily smiled back. «Hey.»
He reached out, and she took his hand like the most precious treasure on earth. That face! Heavens! The face of pure heavens. “H-hey.” He repeated, chuckling to himself. “I...”
Sensing his pain, she used both hands to... «Shhhh. Shhh. Shhhh.» Caress his chest, massage his torso. «Calm now. Calm, calm, calm.»
After a couple of minutes, sensing the quietness of her lover’s lungs and his heart at her fingertips, the woman took a deep, deeper breath, and then talked to him in a tone of pure, uncompromising love. «Alright, my darling. Can you tell what just happened?» Then, a crack in her voice, as if even her herculean demeanor and spartan might couldn’t totally hide the rifts of insecurity and worry in her breast. «You got me really scared just now.» Her voice faltered. Her smile was all the more perfect the more broken it became. «What is it? Should you call an ambulance? To the hospital, huh?»
He stared deep into her eyes. «These eyes!» Eyes of the purest beauty. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, those mystic pearls of hilly greens. “I...”
The lover placed her fingers on his lips, sensing the tremors and the hurt in his malformed muffles. «Alright, mister. No need to rush.» His body became even more relaxed. Her smile, so triumphant, proved how much she enjoyed that taming of his head. «You’re still nervous. I sense it. Take as many deep breaths as you’d like and ... talk to me when you feel like it. Okay?» She took his hand. The gentle squeezes mirrored the glacial glints in her eyes. «But do talk to me. Okay?»
One minute. Two minutes. Three min- “Okay.” He nodded, and then nestled again on her torso, the weight of her breasts like soft pillows to his mind, sleeping pills to his nerves.
One minute. Two minutes. «Hey, mister.» She poked him. «No sleeping, though. Not before I know what happened to you.»
“Hmm ... huh?” He rubbed his eyes, massaged his forehead. “I ... I was hoping you would tell me.” He looked at her, her face so far higher, her torso so much greater, that he pictured himself like an ant talking to a rhino. “Did you ... did you just...?”
She leaned a little closer to him, turning her head slightly to give him a fuller ear. «Hmm?»
He took a couple more breaths, the words still scrambled somewhere between his lungs. “Did you just ... crush me right now?”
She was indignant at first, but conceded him the benefit of the doubt, given his state of confusion. «I was hugging you. I wasn’t crushing you.» She covered her mouth. «Did I ... I mean, did you feel like I was crushing you??»
He looked down, stared at his own belly. “Hmm.” Now that he thought of it, many minutes after the fact, he wasn’t so sure of things anymore. “It ... felt like it.” He touched his own belly, still feeling pangs of the grip burning with every heartbeat. “I never ... never felt something like this before. In my sleep. Not, uh, when I’m alone.”
Both lovers stood in silence for a minute.
Two minutes.
Three...
The shadows moved softly around the room, faint traces of blue shifting places, changing hues as the clouds danced in the dome with the moon. «I was hugging you, but not crushing you.» The lover moved one hand close to her chin, the shocked and scared expression on her face showing that she too had doubts about her claims. Even her memory, unlike her body, wasn’t perfect. «I didn’t. I know I didn’t crush you.» She turned her face back to her lover, the shimmer in her eyes carrying the wetness of tears about to blossom. «I didn’t hurt you ... d-did I?»
To see his woman crack like that, her voice splinter into countless slivers of doubt, oh, it crushed him even harder than any hug, and made him feel like an absolute monster. “No.” He reached out to her, his emotions talking faster than his tongue. “I mean ... I don’t know.”
He looked at his belly. The memory of that squeeze ... it was too palpable, too clear for it to have been... «just imagination? Well, she too is my imagination, yet I talk to her just as if she were real.» His mind balked at its own thoughts, pulses of heavy sentiment weighting on the heart of his brain. «Just as if she were real.» He repeated, and a silky touch came to warm his cheeks.
«You know I can hear your thoughts, don’t you?»
He smiled, yet touched her hand firmly, keeping it shyly away. “Well, don’t. My thoughts ... they’re mine. Or at least that’s how I like to keep them. My thoughts only, and, uh, no one else’s.”
She giggled, her beautiful, huge face growing like a titan next to his. «Very well.» Mwah A kiss. A smooch. The last defenses of his heart all crumbling, then suddenly ... all gone. «If your thoughts cannot belong to me, then at least can your memories?»
“Hm?”
She pulled back, rolling her eyes, sighing humorously. «What did you do yesterday? Last night ... and all the morning, really? You were out for sooo long, you know.»
“Oh...”
The gorgeous lady looked down at her man, his face one to guard many beautiful secrets. «You never spent so long away from home. Not when you do groceries, not when you’re out to the doctor or any business in town.» She moved closer, herself like a planet and him like a petty meteor about to crash and be dissolved in its atmosphere. «Certainly not at night, and most definitely not overnight, moonlighting for an entire bloody day. I mean ... wow! I’ve never seen you like this. You never have anything to do on nights ... except for me. Maybe.»
He chuckled. Her tone, however, felt serious. Weighty. Her face surely was.
“I was out.”
She allowed the silence to slug on for a couple of seconds before she rolled her eyes and muttered. «I know. I noticed it.» She moved in again, her kiss on his cheek tasting like a worldful of blames. «What, however, were you out for? Hmm? What were doing last night, on a weekend’s eve, no less, which is always reserved to us, and only us?»
He looked at her, his eyes pulsating on a slightly different rhythm than his heart. “Hmm.” He thought of saying, but...
... no. «What would she think of it? What...?»
«...?» These thoughts. No thoughts. He had to silence them, for he knew his lover would be listening, just like she listened to all his thoughts, for she was his thoughts. «Did ... did she... » One cannot really silence them, though. Not completely. Not for long. «My dreams. My ... memories.»
...
Jojo.
...
Joshua.
...
...
Johanna...
...
... had she...
... had she listened to them?
Tap!
“Ouch!”
He rubbed one cheek, his lover giggling by his side. «Don’t be silent with me, mister.» She graced him, though, with a couple more seconds of silent reflecting. They giggled and laughed a little longer, enjoying the silliness of their casual love. Soon enough, though, she felt that the silliness required some sprinkles of seriousness in it. «I’m serious. I won’t listen to your thoughts, but I demand that I listen to your words.»
“Oh...” The memories of ... her ... flashes in and out of his head, drenching him with confidence. “You demand it, don’t you?”
«Of course.»
Her powerful arms slithered around his torso, their bulk and massiveness compressing his lungs and stealing his breath without a twinge of effort, even when they were at their softest and most relaxed. “Damn. Damn ... woman!” He gulped. “Your muscles are ... incredible.”
She smirked. «They are, aren’t they?» As all people with her physique and in those same circumstances would do, she raised one arm over her lover’s face ... and flexed it. Boom! The entire universe seemed to ripple and be ripped apart with the hardening of her muscles, sounding like a mountain having suddenly sunk into a placid sea. «Takes some very good genetics and an insane amount of work to craft muscles this big and this beautiful.» She undid her flex, which in many ways was even more impressive and booming than the hardening itself. Swooom! «Glad you noticed it. Glad you like it.» Then... «You do like it, don’t you?»
He immediately grasped her thunderous biceps, the very touch of his fingers on that mountainous mass enough to cause sparks to flicker about. “What’s this question now? O-of course, I...” He gulped. “Of course I love it!”
She kept her eyes locked on him, waiting for his own gaze to falter and flee. «Then why don’t you share your night with me?»
One second. Another. Boom. There they went: his eyes moved away. “What does this have to do with...?” Bunk! “Ouch, ouch! Uurgh!” He recoiled on the bed, her fist having gently grazed a side of his belly. “Ow, ow, woman, don’t do this!”
«Mmph. I merely touched you.»
“Look at your size, then look at mine. Even a flick of your finger would ... I don’t know. Break my neck. Rip my head off. Decapitate me clean, on the spot, and splatter my brain all over the place.”
«Ooo. Gory.»
“You know it’s true.” He massaged his waist, the heat of her fist adding to the vanishing pains of his previous agony. «Hmm.» It did feel familiar. That heat. That pain of her fist on his skin. «It’s like ... it’s really her touch.» Her touch that bumped his belly. Her grip that crushed his lungs.
«I’m sorry.» Her voice stole his mind away.
“Mmph. What was this even for?”
«You were trying to run away. To change the subject.»
“I wasn’t.” He then looked up, his eyes drawn to her hand as she raised it and clutched her fist. “No! Don’t do it! Not again, I’m serious!”
She giggled. «I won’t.» She relaxed her fingers, yet toughened her face. «But you’ve ought to talk to me, mister. For real.»
“Hmm.”
She moved closer to him, like an overgrown bear breathing down the face of a pigmy dormouse. «There you go again, leaving the conversation, sighing your way out of the talk.»
“I’m...” She was right. “I...”
His eyes. Her eyes. Two eyes only.
Her fingers. His face. Gentle squeezes on his cheeks. «How do you like this?»
“Hmm...!” How easy would it be for her to crush his skull with those hands, and how delightful when she decided to use them for love instead. “Heaven.”
She giggled, her fat, heavy lips laying the thickest pecks on his cheek, his neck, all over his face. «This is what I was made for. This is what you have bought me for.»
“Oh ... don’t say it like that.”
«Heh, heh. Like what?»
“Bought me for. You make me sound like a ... I don’t know, a human trafficker.”
«You did traffic something, you know.” A pause. A wry smile. “You trafficked my heart.»
“Hah, hah.”
Mwah! Her kiss, oh...! With all her weight, all her might, all those muscles ... damn! Even her kiss felt like a soft punch! «You’re an organ trafficker. You fiend!»
“Hah. Right.”
He had sweetness all over him: the warmth of her skin, the solidity of her muscles, the softness of the blankets, and the sweetness of the silence. «So.» She spoke, softly nibbling his cheeks with her lips. «You’re going to pretend I didn’t ask you a question? Going to hope that I forget it, is that it?»
“Oh, I...”
He looked at his own palms, stretching his fingers wide, then shut. He then looked out the window, to the beautiful moon that shone, still so high. «Wow. Did I sleep that long? A whole day over?» He looked back again at his fists. «Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am trying to avoid this conversation.»
Why would that be?
Poke! Poke!
«Hey, you.» She poked him on the belly. «You gorgeous. You handsome.» She sweetened her words with more kisses. Mwah! Mwah! «I’m serious. I need to know.»
“Well, it’s...” His eyes traveled back, the images of his memories and the present getting all switched up. “It’s kind of private.”
...
...
That’s it. Brump! He felt a change of energy on his side. Like a sudden movement, but with no real movement. «I know.»
With the weight of those two words, the sorrow and the pain sipping through the syllables, it was impossible for him not to wonder: «I’m in a real pickle, am I not?» He knew it, he felt it, for he was a man, and every man, no matter how imperfect, knew very well the weight of that tone when it came from a woman’s lips: the tone of an aggrieved lady on the very last straws of her heart.
“Hmm...” As gracious as he could be, he tried laying one palm on the back of her hands. “Love? Sweetheart?”
She recoiled from his touch. Only briefly. Still, his heart skipped a beat as she did, and her eyes, too, twitched away from his, her face very much tempted to turn away. Ultimately, her hands accepted his touch. She embraced his palm with one hand, though her face, her eyes, they remained terribly distant. «Is our love also not a private thing?»
Oh. “It is.”
«So am I not worthy of your privacy?» She looked at him. «Of knowing your life, just as I have known your pains and sorrows thus far?»
He pulled his hand, if only to protect his groin and curl in an ashamed, apologetic pose. “Did I offend you in any way?”
His woman huffed, puffed, and chose the silence for a while longer. It was easy to forget, with all her strength, size, and power, that she was a woman, still a woman, and quite a cute and adorable one at that. «Why do you hide this from me? I thought we were ... already very intimate. These were things that I ... as your lover ... should know. Or that you shouldn’t feel ashamed or timid of telling me.» She turned to him, her eyes more gracious than before. «I understand most men don’t like this.»
He looked at her, his confusion slow to die. “Don’t like what?”
She raised one arm. Boom! Flexed it again. «This.» Boom! «Muscles. Not on a woman, that is.»
He was silent again. Nothing to do with shyness, though. «Cristo!» His jaw stood low, the drool hanging on his lower lip, his eyes totally enraptured by the bigness and the swoleness of that enormous, hard biceps. “What ... w- ... what...” He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
She smiled while unflexing her biceps, seeing how his eyes followed them closely as she lowered her arm. «So you do like these, huh?»
“O-of...!” Was that a trap? A joke? Some kind of clever ploy on her part? “Of course! Of fucking course I do! I told you so. Many, many times over, in fact.”
«Well ... for a second now, I thought you didn’t mean it.»
“Why?”
She looked away, rolled her eyes, and looked back at him again, having checked on her thoughts in that split second of quick emotion. «I was wondering if maybe that’s what put you off. If that’s why you were acting so ... distant.»
“I wasn’t acting...”
He was silenced. Her fingers rose so intimidatingly over his lips. «Sweetheart, now you listen. You don’t talk. You listen.» She winked. «Lesson number one in dealing with a woman: you listen. You don’t talk.» She winked again. «Vërßtant?»
He gulped. He nodded. “Ja.”
She wiggled so cutely, so content with her small, little victory. «Very well. So, I was wondering why you bought me off in the first place. Why go through all this expense and time... » She chuckled. «All the trouble of moving me around the house, you know ... because I know I’m quite heavy.»
He chuckled too. “Yeah. Yes, you are.”
«I am.» She sounded immensely proud of it, and her muscles seemingly flexed on their own. «I was wondering, then, why go through all this and ... not do anything with me.» Her eyes on him again. «You haven’t even laid me yet, you know.»
He looked down, his one head not of one mind. “I know.”
«But I get it. Oh, honey, don’t take these words the wrong way. I am not rushing you. Or at least, that’s not my intent.» She touched his shoulders, made sure he understood it. «Never once have I ever wished to hurry you. Never.» She smiled. «I would understand if all you wanted to do with me was talk. And kiss. And sweetly make out with me, enjoy my muscles ... and my other features too.» She wiggled her shoulders, and her breasts then... Broom! Bloom! Bloom-bloom-boom! They sounded like huge, ripe, heavy tanks full of very thick liquid swinging so close to his face! «I get it. You have suffered so much. If all you want from me is support ... that I heed your words, and with my kind, patient ears heal your wounds ... I get it. But now you don’t even give me your words anymore. Makes me frustrated. A little mad, actually.»
He turned to her, and his breast burned with a novel flame of confidence. “Now, now, I think you’re exaggerating a little.”
«Oh? Am I?»
“Yes. Well ... I think.” He looked at his palms. “I have always talked to you. Always, uh, made out with you.”
«Except when you needed the most. Like now.»
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