The Dolls' Farewell: Plastic Vase & Filled Blanks

A blade of cold air struck her cheek. Na-bi's eyes snapped open. She hadn't been out long — a few minutes, maybe only a few dozen seconds. The marble tiles beneath her were still as cold as a sheet of ice, and her body hung on her like a lump of lead.

"Nngh...... hah......"

She rubbed at her blurred vision and lifted her head. A white light waited in front of her.

Beyond that light, inside the glass doors, the shelves. White boxes stacked in rows.

Bandages......

She had no idea how she knew. Her memory had been wiped as clean as an erased chalkboard, but survival instinct ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone was driving a fierce certainty into her skull. There were bandages in there. Wrap them around torn flesh and the wounds would close, the pain would go. There was water to drink, and more than anything else...... if she locked that door, those things could not come in.

"I have to go...... I have to live......"

Na-bi stretched a trembling arm and planted her palm on the floor. Her lower body was almost entirely numb from the Nurse Mannequins' forced pleasure-torture; it felt as if someone else's slab of meat had been lashed to her hips. She hooked her fingers — nails torn out, blood beading at the beds — and dug them into the hairline cracks between the tiles, and dragged herself forward.

Every inch she gained, her ruined crotch scraped across the stone and screamed. She could not stop. Not with the sounds coming out of the dark behind her.

Plastic knocking against plastic. Dozens of joints creaking and ticking. They were coming.

"Ah, no...... stay away......!"

Na-bi sobbed and flailed her arms with everything she had. Three meters to the convenience-store door. But the pursuers in the dark were far faster than she was.

A cold hand snatched her ankle.

"Hiiik?!"

Then her waist, her shoulder, her forearm. In a heartbeat, dozens of hard fists had locked around her body.

"No! I'm not going! I hate the hospital! Waaaaaah!"

Na-bi thrashed, but they did not drag her backward. Instead they lifted her and carried her, setting her down right in front of the convenience store's glass door.

She hit the floor. The door was inches from her nose. Close enough to open if she just reached out. But she could not open it.

Tap. Tap. Clack.

They had already closed a circle around her. One, two, three...... ten...... twenty. Twenty mannequins standing in a vast ring, looking down at Na-bi where she lay sprawled on the tiles.

They had no eyes, no noses, no mouths. Only smooth apricot-colored plastic curves, reflecting her terrified face back at her. And yet she could feel it. They were smiling. And then she saw the grotesque things in their hands.

"......?"

Not medical instruments. One of them had snapped off its own finger at the joint and was holding it. Another had a massive phallic mold fitted to its groin — far larger and cruder than anything human, the sharp seams of factory injection-molding still standing proud along its surface. Unfinished. Unsanded. Rough, hard industrial scrap.

Their "gaze" crawled over her body. The lower belly the hospital had scraped out with the Uterine Curette, the speculum withdrawn, left hollow. They could not bear that empty space.

Their grotesque compulsion poured over her.

Four of them lunged at once and pinned her limbs under their feet. Na-bi was spread on the floor in a great X. The convenience store's white light laid her private parts bare without mercy.

"D-don't... stop... you already did it... you already cleaned me!! Let me go!!"

Na-bi screamed until her throat tore. They treated the sound as noise. The one at her head grabbed a fistful of her hair.

It slammed her skull into the marble without a second's hesitation.

"Ghhk......?!"

Sparks burst in front of her eyes. Her brain seemed to dance inside its shell. Hot blood ran from her nose in a thick line and wet her lips. The world spun. The strength to resist evaporated in an instant.

They used the opening and went to work.

The first to approach was the one holding its own snapped-off finger. No lubricant. No preamble. It simply pressed that hard plastic knuckle to the mouth of her vagina and pushed.

"Hhk......! Nngh......"

The coarse plastic forced its way into dried mucous membrane. It stung. And that was only the beginning. It shoved the finger in to the hilt and withdrew, leaving the "component" seated in the empty space.

The next one came. This time a dildo the size of a palm, cheap and crude, its surface studded with lumpy nubs. Into a passage already occupied by a finger, a second foreign object was forced.

"Agh! It hurts! It's tearing......!"

Na-bi shook her head and moaned. They paid no attention. They kept a meticulous order, like a factory assembly line. One inserted and stepped back; the next stepped in and inserted.

The vaginal opening was already past capacity. They did not stop. If it would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not go in, they jammed it in. Inside her, the components knocked against each other with a hollow plastic clatter. Her lower belly began to bulge, lumpy and uneven.

Then the rear. They lifted her hips. The anus the hospital had packed with insect gruel and then emptied, left slack — they registered that, too, as empty space.

One mannequin lined up the hideous plastic phallus fitted to its groin. A dry, parched surface. Sharp seam-ridges.

"Gyaaaaah! No! Not there! It'll tear—!!"

Na-bi shrieked, blood-flecked spit flying from her lips. The thing was merciless. It put its weight behind the solid mass of plastic and drove it into her rectum. A little mucus welled out; it was nowhere near enough to take that raw friction. The inner wall scraped and split.

Worse was what was happening inside. The components packed into her vagina and the phallus shoving in from behind began to tangle against each other through a single thin membrane. As the space ran out, her organs screamed. The foreign objects pressed and twisted together until they fused into one enormous lump of plastic.

The sound of living flesh being scoured. The sound of plastic striking plastic. Na-bi's eyes rolled back and her body convulsed. Her belly was packed as tight as a dumpster. Cold, hard things crushing her viscera.

"Help...... me...... please......"

The plea scattered into nothing. The twentieth, the last mannequin, approached. In the hands of the one that would finish the job was a massive ridged dildo the size of a forearm — a black industrial-rubber shaft, blunt at the tip, spiral nubs jutting from it like something meant to maim.

It took aim at her vagina, already so full that components were protruding from the entrance. There was no room to put anything else. It looked physically impossible. The mannequin did not care. If there was no room, you made room.

It did not bother with any piston motion. It simply set the tip of the dildo against the vaginal opening and braced, the way you brace to drive a nail.

"Ah......? Ah, ah......?"

Na-bi's pupils shook. Instinctive terror smelled death coming. The mannequin raised its fist. And brought it down on the base of the dildo.

"Ghhk— GYAAAAAAAAAAH——!!!!!!!"

It was not a scream. It was the sound of a soul tearing. The huge dildo forced the smaller components already inside her upward, driving itself to the end of her cervix and then past it. Her viscera were shoved toward her throat. A blinding pain, as if something had stabbed her diaphragm.

Her torso jackknifed. Gastric fluid and bloody foam erupted from her mouth. Her intestines twisted, her stomach compressed, and the gag reflex fired. The mannequin was not satisfied. It still was not all the way in.

It gripped the handle and twisted it sideways, like turning a screw.

"Hnnnngh...... hhkk...... kill me...... just kill me......"

Na-bi's body flopped like a live fish on a board. The ridges grinding her inner walls to pulp. The mannequin put its weight behind one last punch to the base of the dildo.

Perfect. The huge shaft was buried deep in Na-bi's body. Only the handle protruded, just barely, from the outside. A perfect plug. Not a single millimeter of empty space remained inside her. She had become a completely filled human vase.

"Khee. Khee-khee-kik."

The Nurse Mannequins burst into satisfied laughter. As if their task were done, they broke the ring they had formed around her. The path to the convenience-store door opened.

They stepped back. As if to mock her: Go on in, then. If you can still get there in that body.

"Hah... hah... nngh..."

Na-bi lay sprawled in a mess of vomit and blood. Twenty components in all, packed tight in her lower belly. Every breath made the plastics knock together inside her with a hollow clatter. Her abdomen had swollen like a woman at full term — except the shape was grotesque, lumpy, wrong.

"Have to... go..."

She moved her shaking arms. Stop here and she would be their toy again. The convenience store. She only had to get inside.

She dragged herself. Every movement drove the dildo buried in her belly against her womb, and the phallus in her anus scraped her rectum. The pain bleached her vision white. She clenched her teeth and kept going.

The mannequins watched. Some of them gave her a casual little kick as she crawled past, a tap of the foot, nothing more.

"Ugh!"

The blow to her side rolled her limp body over. The belly packed with foreign objects struck the floor.

"Gyaaaah!"

Something inside her viscera crushed. Na-bi screamed and clutched her stomach. They only giggled and refused to clear the way. She had to crawl through their legs, through that forest of plastic.

At last, her hand found the convenience store's glass door.

The automatic door was broken, or jammed; it opened with a heavy, reluctant scrape. Na-bi wrung out the last of her strength and shoved herself through the gap. The dildo handle jutting from her hips caught on the doorframe with a hard knock.

"Nngh! Come out... please come out..."

She twisted her hips by force and dragged herself inside. Then, with a shaking hand, she turned the lock.

It was locked. Beyond the glass, twenty egg-faced ghosts stared at her. They could not come in. They only pressed their smooth faces to the window and watched.

"Haa... haa... I... made it..."

Na-bi slumped into the corner beneath the counter and leaned her back against it. A Safety Zone. But her face did not brighten. With a violently trembling hand she cradled her lower belly. It was hard as a stone. Sharp edges pressed against her palm from the inside.

I have to get them out... if I want to treat this... these first...

The bandages were right there. But in this condition she could do nothing. Na-bi spread her legs. Between her thighs, the hideous black handle of the dildo jutted out, and around it, smaller shards of plastic that had been squeezed out with it.

She reached for the handle and gripped it.

It was slick. Blood and mucus kept stealing her hold. She wrapped the hem of her clothes around her hand and took the dildo again. Then she drew a deep breath and pulled with everything she had.

"Nnnnngh! Gyaah!"

It did not budge.

It was wedged too tight. Worse, the vaginal walls had dried and seemed to have suctioned themselves to the dildo's surface. The slightest attempt to move it sent back a blinding pain, as if her womb were being torn out whole. She could not even bring herself to touch the anal side.

It won't come out... it won't come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out... what do I do...

The color drained from Na-bi's face. She was trapped in a Safety Zone with her body packed full of industrial garbage. If she could not get it out, it would rot. She would rot from the inside, from the belly out.

Terror and despair rolled over her. And with them, the pressure of foreign objects crushing a bladder already past full.

"Ah......?"

Na-bi looked down at her own thigh with a vacant expression. Hot urine she could no longer control was streaming from her urethra, soaking the floor. She wet herself with the dildo still buried in her, shivering in the corner of the convenience store. Outside the glass, the Nurse Mannequins watched, and smiled without a sound.