The forever toy (Fantasy)

Sometimes I fantasize about somehow being frozen in time in some manner at my current age, and becoming an immortal plaything, never growing old, never changing, always being attractive and desired for all time. So,while this is a fantasy I would never, ever actually want done to me, it creeps into my naughty mind and gets me all horny. This fantasy involves my death (Only way I can visualize me somehow preserving my youth eternally, well, in a realistic way. I will avoid the whole vampire thing, for now. Also, please note, I have 0 desire to die, this is pure fantasy only and nothing I would ever want to happen to me or anyone in real life), so please skip if you are squeemish about that type of thing.


I met him at the bar, the one who would change my life forever. He didn't look the type. His face was innocent looking, a little plump, but not in a way you would think of as overweight. More like a baby fat type of plump. I could imagine aunts pinching his cheeks, commenting on how adorable he was.

He bought me a couple drinks, joked and told me a bit about him. His laugh was easy, the kind that gets you laughing, contagious. A simple man, an accountant. I felt comfortable around him, that was the odd part. I don't go home with strangers if they give me any odd feelings, no matter how slight it could be. Weird me out, and you can just kiss my ass goodbye.

No odd feelings, and it had been a while since I had been with anyone, so I decided I would give this sweet, innocent man a night to remember.

We went to his house, and started kissing. His breath was minty, prepared already, just in case he managed to find a willing partner. We ripped at clothes, me removing his shirt, and him returning the favor. Next came belt buckle fumbling, while his fumbling focused on my bra.

Shoes off, followed by pants unzipped, pulled down, shaken off, until we were both in our underwear. I backed up, deciding that I wanted to give some sort of show, and slowly pulled down my panties, turning in a circle as I did so he could admire me from all sides.

Kneeling in front of him, I pulled down his boxers. I was greeted by a less than enthusiastic penis, half soft still. Well, that sure was great for my confidence.

He apologized, and told me he had a fetish with cameras, he couldn't really get off well without them.

Now this was intriguing. I had always had the fantasy, being a model, having my picture taken, being in playboy, with all the guys lusting after me, being in a naughty movie, imagining every guy watching me, wishing they were there instead of the one on this side of the camera. After getting him to promise me that he would give me the card after it was done, so that he could not spread pictures of me around, I finally agreed. I could teach this innocent man and live the whole camera fantasy with no risk. This night was more interesting than I thought.

He led me down to his basement, where he had what seemed like a full studio. After getting dressed again, per his request, I started posing for him. He had me turn this way and that, snapping pictures like a pro. Bend down, hand in front of you like you are blowing a kiss. Stand sideways, face slightly offside of the camera.

Eventually, he started having me remove clothes. First, open the shirt, showing of the bra. Bend over, cleavage together. Look down, fingers slightly inside the bra as if moving downward. A little later, off came the shirt. Eventually, off came the pants. Then topless, bottomless, naked in heels, naked without heels, bend over, kneel down. On and on it went, and I was caught up in the moment.

He started giving me objects and props to pose with. It felt intoxicating, like I was in the limelight. He made me feel like a model, a celebrity, gorgeous, wonderful.

Finally, the last shot was ready, the shot that would change my life forever.

He stood me up on the step stool we had been using. Then, he brought down a noose. Look, it is just a piece of rope, no tension, not attached to anything. No worries, just a prop.

It felt odd, having this around my neck. I know it is just a prop, but it's a noose for gods sake.

He kept me posing, and at first, I ignored the thing around my neck, still caught up in my beauty queen fantasy. He even had me masturbate for him, standing there. However, it kept intruding more and more, and I noted the string attaching the noose to where ever was now tighter, holding it against my neck.

I stopped posing, asking him to remove it. Please get this off of me.

He came over, standing next to me, looking me over a little, then reached up to remove it. Suddenly, the step stool was gone, and I felt the noose close around my throat.

At first I thought it was an accident, expecting him to lift me up, to unwrap the noose from around my neck. I tried desperately to draw in breath, my throat burning and aching. My lungs felt like they would explode. I fully understood that this was his intention when I swung around, looking into his eyes, and I saw death there, wondering how I ever thought he looked sweet and innocent.

I tried to catch the rope, to pull myself up, to catch something with my feet to stand on so I could get a much needed breath. My feet kicked feebly at open air. My hands could not loosen the constricting rope. My arms were too weak to to pull myself up along the rope. Spots swam before my eyes, and my chest felt like it might burst from the need for air. I kept trying, but felt my frantic limbs become sluggish. I could feel a void sucking me down, my vision dimming. I kept trying, but finally, blackness pulled me under, let me resurface, then pulled me under again. The pain faded, and the world faded, a dull rush in my ears that went silent.

My body hung there for a few minutes while the camera kept rolling, then a few minutes more. Finally, he pulled my body down, running his hands over my still warm flesh, starting to cool. He used my body then, laying me on my stomach, then pulling up my hips until we was able to find a good position to keep my ass up in the air.

He lubed up my pussy, then pushed his penis inside. Thrust, thrust, thrust, and he was coming. After he rested, he got to work. I became an animal from a prize hunt, stuffed and ready, a once living girl, now a permanent doll (This is a fantasy. I am not sure if it is possible to do this, and honestly, I do not want to know. This is a fantasy, so don't take it too seriously.).

He used my body as a sex doll. I would sleep in bed with him, and be taken by him anytime he wanted. He washed me up, dried me, even dressed me in the sexy clothes he liked on me. Some of his strange, sick friends enjoyed coming over to use me for their pleasure. There was no making love, I was only a stuffed doll now, but there was plenty of use. Once I played host to twenty or more men in a row. They would position me, bent over a table, missionary style, orally, it didn't matter. My mouth was still useful, even if they didn't get the satisfaction of me sucking, or swallowing. They dumped load after load, not worried about me getting pregnant, not worried about disease. They were kept in strict control though, since the dead cannot heal cut skin, cannot regrow lost parts. Once, he even knifed someone who got a bit rough with me.

My owner washed me out regularly, and I think, in his own way, even loved me, as much as someone who wanted to be with a once living real girl turned into a doll could. He would carefully scrub out my pussy, showering with me. Put the shower nozzle to my pussy entrance, or remove it completely so he could put the hose inside me, washing me out.

I became a sex toy, used by hundreds, never aging. I was passed around eventually, to other owners, and admired for my beauty, my youth, and the fact that they could do anything they wanted without complaint.

Thus I remained a sex toy. I don't think anyone could count how many people pleasured themselves with me, but at least I will never grow old and wrinkly. I will always be remembered, and used, as the sexy woman I used to be.