Real Doll (1)
“Whew! Whew! This thing squeezes so tight. A real masterpiece pussy.”
“Yes. As an onahole, I'm fully dedicated to clenching my pussy in perfect sync with Master's thrusts.”
“So that's why it feels better than regular sex.”
Even a hypnotist toying with the world lives in an ordinary room. Sure, after moving to Pangchang-dong, it was objectively a nice house, but my room was nothing special—just crammed with a bed, a bookshelf, and a desk.
I didn't put the desk or bookshelf there to study. What would be the point of cracking the books now? I was pushing thirty, had no interest in learning anything new, and sure as hell wasn't thinking about a job. Besides, the desk was always occupied by a life-sized onahole, leaving no space for books anyway.
“Master. You've ejaculated inside me three times since waking up. How about recharging your energy now?”
“Whoa, you keep track of that too? You're like a full-on AI onahole.”
“Thank you for the praise.”
A talking onahole. No—a thinking onahole. This one used to be Baek Eunha, my high school teacher. She was the creepy type who blatantly discriminated against students based on their looks, but after hypnosis training, she was now an onahole on permanent display on my desk, 24/7.
Whenever I felt like it, I'd use Baek Eunha's pussy like an onahole to drain my load. Sure, plenty of women would come running if I said I wanted sex, but onahole masturbation had its own appeal. Baek Eunha had zero desire to enjoy sex herself. She existed solely to satisfy me as an onahole. She'd clench her pussy the instant my cock went in and relax perfectly when I pulled out. No other woman could match that rhythm with such total focus. That was why I still jerked off with an onahole sometimes.
Today, I'd already busted three loads right after waking up.
“Thanks, Baek Eunha.”
“? Do people thank onaholes? Master is unusually kind.”
“Hah. You've really become a complete onahole now.”
“? But I am an onahole.”
“You used to treat me like total shit back in the day. Don't you remember, Teacher?”
“Come to think of it, there was a time when I taught students at school.”
It wasn't even that long ago. Just a few months.
“But Master is so talkative today.”
“What? You got a problem with that?”
“No, it's just... Normally, you cum inside silently and leave. Talking to a tool is weird anyway, so that's the right attitude.”
“You don't like chatting with me?”
“As an onahole, my purpose is to fulfill Master's sexual needs. Casual conversation is... ambiguous in terms of an onahole's duties.”
“Mom's off traveling with her friends, my little sister's bedridden (maybe a million high-legs was overkill), and Seo Jeonghui's out meeting Na Yuna. By chance, you're the only one in the house I can talk to.”
Not that I was lonely or anything. I was just talking absentmindedly.
“I see. Master, always surrounded by women, all alone. That's rare.”
“Not really. Back in the day, this was normal, right? Remember? I had zero popularity at school. No girlfriend, no girl friends.”
“? Wasn't that not the case?”
“Huh?”
“In my memory, didn't Master have a girlfriend?”
“What? What bullshit is that? When did I ever have a girlfriend? Even now, technically, I'm still a virgin in the relationship sense.”
I'd had tons of sex, but no official girlfriends.
“...Huh? That's weird. I definitely saw Master walking arm-in-arm with some girl.”
“When?”
“When I was Master's homeroom teacher. I even warned you about inappropriate relationships.”
“No way.”
Baek Eunha fell into rare human-like contemplation, propping her chin as she dredged up old memories. Finally, it clicked.
“I remember. Sia... Isia. Right?”
“……”
“Tall, pretty, super popular girl. Not that I should say it now, but back then I wondered why someone like her was dating a kid like Kim Hoyoung...”
“...Sigh.”
Damn, she'd brought her up. Isia. Yeah, I remembered now. The girl who'd almost taken my virginity. The idol of every guy in school, my two-years-older senior. And... the first onahole—no, Real Doll—I'd ever laid eyes on.
Our country has one batshit crazy system. Wait, no—it's an international treaty ratified by the UN, so I guess the world has one batshit crazy system. Not that I should talk, since I turned the world upside down with hypnosis (though I don't remember it), but I can scream it's utterly insane.
It's the Real Doll system. A deranged law modifying living people into Real Dolls.
There are no public selection criteria—at least, none announced. They just randomly snatch women, turn them into Real Dolls, and release them back into society. Parents with daughters would lose their minds, but since only about ten women worldwide get turned into Real Dolls each year, most people dismiss it as someone else's problem and just bitch about it online.
What happens to Real Dolls? Rumors flew like urban legends, but no one knew the truth unless they knew one personally. Isia probably knew next to nothing about it either.
Isia. Late 160s in height, thick lips, big tits. When she walked by, guys would pretend not to care—peak puberty style—but all turn to ogle her swaying ass. Her face was top-tier pretty, she was sociable enough to be student council president, kendo club vice-captain, and a national gold medalist. Oh, and she was the sole heir to a massive conglomerate.
Trauma Confectionery, the snack and dairy giant—her dad's one and only daughter. Post-graduation, Ivy League in the US was lined up, then inheriting the company. Red-carpet life on a cloud for an elite.
A loser like me couldn't even dream of talking to her. Our one interaction? Shaking hands during her student council campaign: “I'll definitely vote for you, Senior.” “Thanks.” Pure formality.
Everyone knew Isia, but only a tiny circle of popular kids guarded her side, blocking outsiders. Me? I just stole distant glances, nurturing a childish crush.
Two years apart, so once I was a freshman, she naturally vanished from school. Rumor had it she'd breezed into an Ivy League and jetted off to America. Two more years passed, I'd forgotten her completely—until I ran into her on the street one day.
“Huh...? Isia Senior?”
“Hm? Who?”
“It's Isia Senior, right? Aren't you in America?”
“Who're you?”
“Nakwon High underclassman.”
“Ooh~”
We weren't close at all, but I approached anyway because... Senior looked way different. Her once-pale skin was tanned dark, nails manicured, huge hoop earrings, blonde-dyed hair. Her outfit was outright bizarre: shirt with no undershirt, buttons half-undone exposing deep cleavage, navel fully bare. Skirt so short it might as well be panties. Nothing like the chaste elite heiress. That's why I spoke up.
“Heard the rumors? So, wanna use me?”
“Huh?”
“Then follow me.”
She grabbed my wrist and dragged me to a motel. That must've been when Baek Eunha spotted us arm-in-arm.
Up till then, I'd never set foot in a motel. Senior paid smoothly, entered the room, and dropped her skirt. Shockingly, a bunch of condoms were tied to her thong strings. She handed me one: “Put it on.”
“No bareback. They break quick.”
“Break...?”
“Wanna go raw? Pay extra.”
“Money? I don't have any.”
“What? For free? No way. Real Dolls are paid service. Free is just regular sex, right?”
“Uh...?”
My total bafflement tipped her off. I'd been cluelessly dragged here.
“Oh. You haven't heard? I'm a Real Doll now.”
“What? Real Doll?”
“Don't know it? Blackstars pushed it, countries signed on.”
“Oh. Y-yeah, I've heard. Random women worldwide selected and modded into Real Dolls... But isn't that an urban legend?”
“Nah, it's real. Hit adulthood, got kidnapped, surgery, boom—Real Doll. Now hunting for a Master~.”
I couldn't process it. Out of 8 billion people, fewer than 100 Real Dolls, and Isia Senior was one? Worst luck ever. I figured elites like her were immune.
“Ah~ Dad flipped out, 'This is bullshit, who'll inherit if my daughter's a Real Doll?' Company tanked clean. Investors pulled out, shareholders dumped stock and fled. Blackstars pressure, obviously. Dad suicided last year, Mom vanished~. Probably snatched by Blackstars.”
“Even so, Trauma Confectionery's pretty big...”
“Big in Korea terms. Blackstars' market cap is ten times Korea's GDP. To them, Dad's company is a corner store selling kids' snacks.”
Blackstars was a megacorp from merged superpowers' giants, sure... but Isia Senior, a real Real Doll? Still, what exactly was a Real Doll? Just a whore selling her body? Seemed more complex. She looked too calm for forced coercion. Accepting her fate matter-of-factly.
...“Modification surgery,” she'd said. What the hell did they do?
“Hey, what's your name again? Can't do freebies as a Real Doll. No money? Just go?”
“Senior... Don't. Run away instead. Hide at my place?”
“What? Hahaha! Run?”
She burst out laughing, pulled out her phone, showed a site. Doll sales. No—Real Doll sales. Naked women displayed like products, prices below. There was Isia Senior's pic.
“See the price tag?”
“Ten hundred thousand million billion trillion... How many zeros?”
“100 billion...?”
“Pay 100 billion, I become that person's property. Wherever I'm hiding at your place, if someone pays, I serve them as Master. Might eat breakfast with you, then bolt eyes-glazed yelling 'Master!' How shitty would that feel?”
“……”
“Forget me. 100 billion ain't easy money. Till then, I'll enjoy this tiny freedom wandering. Can't even work part-time—Real Dolls aren't human. Residency canceled.”
“...Nothing to say.”
“Fine. This is our last anyway. Not your fault. I know you can't help. See ya, nameless junior. Won't meet again, but live well.”
“……….”
I thought we'd never cross paths again.
Back then.
I forgot her for years after.
But now... if I wanted, I could become Isia Senior's Master. Just like that.