“Jan! Ken! Pon!”

Ollie held out her open palm and locked eyes with her opponent. She didn’t even need to see what was played to know the outcome– it was written all over Reine’s face! That unmistakable look of defeat! After all those losses, Ollie’s strategy had come online and wiped the floor with th-

“Ollie. You lost again.”

“Huh?” Ollie looked down at Reine’s play.

Scissors. Of course.

“W-wait, what about best two out of three?”

Reine crossed her arms. “That’s what we just finished playing. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to do another ‘double or nothing’ round. You’ve put this off long enough, you need to get it over with.” Reine exited the room, briefly pausing in the door frame and casting an empathetic glance back at Ollie. “She’s really pent up by now, you know?”

The door swung shut and Ollie slumped her shoulders. So much for her last ditch effort. Ollie had spent the last seven days bouncing between all of HoloID, trying to pawn off her responsibilities through a gauntlet of janken. But at the end of it all, she was left with only a string of defeats. Reine’s final words echoed dimly in her undead skull as Ollie made her way to Anya’s bedroom.

–

Anya was at her desk and sufficiently busy putting together a schedule for next week. Her legs dangled off the seat, idly kicking back and forth while she decided on a game for the Thursday slot. A small creak momentarily took her eyes off the screen. She noticed the door slightly ajar and called out to her visitor. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Ollie nervously stepped into the room. “Yes, ma’am, it’s Ollie. I just thought I’d stop by and…um…take care of ‘that thing’ again.”

“Oh, how considerate. It’s funny because usually your shifts are on Mondays, but I must have missed you. And now that I think of it, I didn’t see anyone else this week either...” Anya pretended to muse on a question they both had the answer to, and Ollie squirmed under the pressure.

“I know, and I’m really sorry! I got a little carried away with the shift rotations and…ah, it doesn’t matter now. I’m coming down.”

Ollie closed the door. Some part of her was still urging for retreat and her hand lingered on the doorknob. Maybe she could turn things around with another gamble? It was tempting, but none of the girls would take up her offer anymore, not when the stakes had become this high. There was nothing left for her but to follow through.

She strode over to Anya’s desk, dropped to a squat, and peered underneath. There were two small rounded impressions on the ivory carpet in front of Anya’s chair, physical remnants of the dozens of hours she and the other girls spent on their knees during their shifts. Further up, at eye level, was the main attraction– a thick, sweaty, intimidating length of futa cock complete with a heavy pair of balls fat enough to spill over the front of the seat. A tiny pair of frilly black panties were stretched over Anya’s smooth sack, the threads visibly fraying from having to cradle such mass and weight. The size of Anya’s package always had a way of taking Ollie's breath away, no matter how many times she was forced against it, but today was especially worrisome thanks to a certain odor tickling her nostrils.

“Well? Anytime now.” Anya called up from above, sounding almost bored.

Ollie tented her hands and looked sheepishly to the floor. “Sure, no problem. But shouldn’t you…y’know…take a bath first?”

Anya’s fingers lifted off the keys, basking the room in ominous silence. She leaned down to address Ollie directly. “Hm? Why would I wash it? That’s what I have you for. It wouldn’t be so bad if you took care of it earlier in the week, right?” Anya scooted her seat forward to emphasize her point…and the smell.

Ollie gulped and stuffed her trembling hands back in her lap. There was no use bargaining any further– she could tell from the ire in Anya’s voice that she wasn’t in the mood. It’s not so bad, Ollie thought, Once you clean off all that stuff, it’ll be just like any other day!

Frowning, Ollie shuffled forward until her knees were snugly within the carpet’s indentations. Just get it over with, just get it over with. Her neck dipped forward and Ollie hesitantly pressed her cool lips against the warm, leaking head of Anya’s cock, lapping up a thick column of pre cum with a deft swirl of her tongue and swallowing it down. The substance was notably denser and stickier than usual, likely a byproduct of the owner’s balls being so backed up. She could feel the mass begrudgingly slide down her throat. The unnatural consistency didn’t bode well, but maybe she was overthinking it. Ollie continued her preliminary cleanup around the tip of Anya’s spear, peppering the sensitive, spongy area with small licks and kisses as a show of good faith.

Here, Ollie encountered the first real obstacle of the day. Anya famously neglected the area behind the glans when bathing, either out of ignorance or simple apathy, and the other HoloID girls agreed that it was one of the worst parts of their shifts. Ollie cringed as she forced her tongue up and around that very spot, tasting stale sweat and sticky clumps of old, dried cum mixed with whatever else built up there over the past seven days. Ugh, I can’t believe how bad this tastes! How did she go an entire week like this? After a good minute of Ollie swabbing her tongue behind Anya’s filthy glans like a disposable cum rag, everything was left shining under a thin coat of gooey saliva. Ollie’s meticulous worship was less out of passion for a job well done, and more so because she didn’t want to move on with the rest of her duties.

Naturally, Anya sensed her reluctance. “That’s good enough, don’t you think? There’s a lot more work to do.”

“Right…” Ollie repositioned and began running her tongue along the shaft’s sweaty underside, feeling every throbbing vein pulse against her taste buds along the way. Each slow, methodical pass shoveled another pile of musky dick sweat onto her tongue that she pulled back between her lips and drank down with a muffled whine. The flavor was intensely salty, almost like shotgunning brine. Her throat quivered in rebellion during every swallow, but she knew better than to spit it out and Ollie pressed on with minimal complaints. When her work finally completed, she could barely feel her tongue.

As much as Anya would have liked similar a treatment for her balls, the oral teasing had irrevocably surged her budding libido; she needed relief now. Anya grabbed the base of her cock in one hand and waved it impatiently in Ollie’s face, a mutually understood signal to move forward.

Not a second later, Anya felt the kiss of Ollie’s wet lips give way to the balmy insides of her mouth, Ollie’s tongue serving as a wriggling welcome mat that was quickly smothered with heady cock musk and pre cum. In spite of her disgust, the zombie’s internals were heating up. Her warm breath surged pleasantly around the girth of Anya’s member as it pushed through and bulged out the entrance of Ollie’s tight, slick throat.

Anya bit her lip and began groping her heavy breasts while Ollie worked her shaft. In a lot of ways, Anya regarded her own body as a curse, or something of a cruel joke. The moment Anya’s artificer brought her into this world, she nearly tipped over from the unwieldy weight of the massive twin sacks of fat hanging from her chest. Nevermind all the inconvenience of buying clothes to fit around their dimensions or the impossibility of sleeping on her stomach, what really boiled Anya’s blood was the fact that her swaying melons were guaranteed to be everyone's first (and potentially only) impression. During debut, she could feel thousands of hungry eyes dissecting her chest from beyond the screen, locked on to the bounces and jiggles while she tried explaining her interests and goals for the future.

And to think those obscene cow tits were somehow the least of her worries! Below the belt, Anya had also been saddled with an absolute monster, appearing almost comically large even by pornographic standards. Her equipment was fittingly insatiable, leading to near constant arousal and dress-raising, steel-hard erections for most hours of the day. Her only desires were to entertain and play games, but instead she had to dedicate a large chunk of every afternoon to placating her raging libido. Solo masturbation was simply too time consuming to keep up with her daily life, so she had to make use of her fellow ID members– more specifically, their mouths. Most girls had gotten accustomed to her size after two or three sessions, but Ollie was the exception. Anya was reminded of this potentially immutable fact as she watched her genmate struggle below her.

“Come on, you still can’t do this by now?” Anya shifted her hips in annoyance.

Ollie mumbled something approximal to “Sorry” and got back to work. The first few seconds were always the hardest, and Ollie kept gagging upon hitting the halfway point when Anya’s cock smashed up against her uvula. But what the zombie girl lacked in ability, she more than made up for with enthusiasm. Ollie withdrew her head to a more shallow position, gripped Anya’s thighs for support, and aggressively dove forward.

“Mmngh.” Anya let out a small moan as her cock barreled through Ollie’s esophagus, feeling a tunnel of warm saliva speed down and squeeze her length. She could sense her toy’s hot breath and eager tongue lapping tantalizingly close to her balls after that one. “N-not bad, at least there’s some improvement.”

Ollie was tearing up and clearly choking, but retained her iron grip on Anya’s thighs. She knew that Anya wouldn’t consider the job done until she took it all the way.

Almost…there! Ollie continued slowly corkscrewing her face further down Anya’s imposing meat pole, spilling gobs of drool on the carpet to join the generous puddle of pre cum that had been accumulating since she entered the room. A few more twists and guttural moans was all it took to force herself down the remaining inches and bathe the base of Anya’s massive claymore in her drool. In this position, Ollie’s tongue was cruelly pressed into the pool of sweat collecting between the base of Anya's shaft and her fat, greasy balls, but the nauseating tang wasn't enough to deter her. Not when she made it this far.

There was a bigger problem, however. As a reanimated corpse, Ollie didn’t technically need oxygen to survive, but her nerves and most other physiological systems were perfectly functional. Meaning that, while Ollie knelt with a throat jam-packed with a pillar of unwashed futa meat, her lungs simmered with the very human need to breathe. She looked up, pitifully, at her dominator and hoped to communicate her distress.

Anya frowned and took hold of Ollie’s voluminous bundles of hair. To think this girl had the gall to beg for air after a full week of shirking her responsibilities! This was the perfect opportunity, Anya realized, to try something she’d been curious about since debut.

–

Way back in 2020 when the second generation of ID hit the scene, Ollie had gathered the rest of Gen 2 in the kitchen to show off her “super cool skill”. Bringing both hands to her neck, she yanked upwards and swiftly dismembered herself. Thin discs of vaporous ichor swarmed around both sites of decapitation, obscuring the bottom of her skull and the top of her body’s neck in a strange black mist. Reine offered some pity claps. Anya asked if she could go back to her room.

“Wait, that’s not all! Check this out!” Ollie’s body took a zucchini out from the fridge and slowly guided it between the lips of her decapitated head. Anya’s pupil’s grew as she watched the vegetable slip all the way into Ollie’s mouth without coming out the bottom of her head, as though it disappeared into thin air.

No, that wasn’t quite right. The bulge in her throat seemed to teleport from Ollie’s head to the neck of her torso, meaning anything she swallowed would travel seamlessly between the two discs of black mist like some kind of portal. At the time, her lewd parlor trick was just a way to show off, but the possibilities had never left Anya’s mind– especially in the late hours of the night when her feverish lust tented the bedsheets.

Now, with Ollie helplessly impaled on her shaft and seven days worth of services to make up, it seemed like the ideal time for Anya to live out that fantasy.

–

Anya pulled back and removed most of her dick from Ollie’s throat. She then planted her right foot against Ollie’s shoulder and, still tightly gripping her hair, gave it a powerful kick. The force easily popped the zombie's head off her shoulders like a wine cork. The rest of Ollie’s body tumbled backwards and crashed against Anya’s dresser, shaking some of the shelves loose on impact.

“Hrrm?!” Ollie vocalized her surprise to the best of her ability. Her panicked eyes strained to look back at her recently decapitated body, though her range of vision was harshly limited by her tormentor’s tight grip.

“Ahh, that’s better. We don’t need all that extra weight for what we’re doing today, right?” Anya inched her chair back and, once clear of the desk, let her powerful erection stand tall in the open air with Ollie’s helpless head acting as a capstone. The final step was to spin Ollie around 180 degrees into an aptly named “sword swallowing position”.

The view from the tip of Anya’s engorged member was almost vertigo-inducing for poor Ollie, seeing only the underside of Anya’s throbbing shaft and the full, sweaty sack lying at its base, eager to pump her throat full of long-brewing spunk. Ollie grumbled weakly, vying for some kind of mercy from what was surely coming, but initiating a conversation was incredibly difficult with a mouthful of girl cock stretching your jaw.

Anya couldn’t hold back anymore. She spread her legs and wrapped her eager hands around the sword embedded in Ollie’s skull. Anya’s keris skin was conveniently immune to blades or other sharp objects, so even the business end of the sword was easy to use as handlebars. Ollie was understandably freaking out and instinctively tried to shake her head since that was the only possible way of signaling her displeasure.

“Don’t be so afraid,” Anya cooed, “I just made it easier for you to do your job!” With a cruel smile, Anya grunted and slammed Ollie’s head down the entirety of her shaft in a single ferocious stroke, piledriving Ollie’s face into her sweat-soaked balls with a meaty SLAP. The impact sent fuzzy tingles of titillation from the base of Anya’s spine to the crown of her skull. This wave of biochemical electricity combined with the sensation of Ollie’s screaming throat vibrating across her cock on the way down was divine, and Anya’s face contorted into a picture of absolute pleasure. All that waiting, all those horny sleepless nights had been worth it one thousand times over.

Ollie's world went black as she was brutally smothered and ground into her friend's ball flesh like a disposable sex toy. The smell down there was significantly worse than the tip of Anya’s saber, and she found herself tearing up from the heavy musk being mashed into her unguarded nostrils. Seconds later, Ollie squinted into the light as Anya dragged her back up for another stroke. The process was fast, vicious, and intensely nauseating since Ollie's brain was decoupled from the sensations of her body’s greater mass; it felt like using a VR headset on a rollercoaster.

Panting heavily, Anya leaned back and continued pumping Ollie’s head up and down her cock, relishing the sweet, wet slapping sound of her friend’s face rhythmically colliding with her sack on the downward thrusts. Anya’s legs were becoming weak, and all physical awareness was directed towards that tantalizing, squeezing embrace of Ollie’s throat.

The dopamine coursing through Anya’s veins during this engagement came from a place beyond simple lust. Yes, there was the base physical pleasure of plunging her needy cock in something warm and tight, but above that was the far deeper satisfaction of retribution. For years Anya had endured her genmate’s hyperactive screaming and crass, immature attempts at humor. For years Anya had kept her cool during streams when jokes were made at her expense, and bit her tongue whenever Ollie forced her into uncomfortable collabs with vtubers she had no interest in. To have that loud-mouthed zoomer zombie bitch literally in the palm of her hands, to reduce Ollie to a sobbing, drooling onahole wherein her only function was to choke on dick and gargle ball sweat…it was nothing short of mind-melting ecstasy!

The strokes were coming harder and faster now, any regard for Ollie’s comfort long since discarded. A small string of drool escaped from Anya’s panting mouth as she bucked her hips to meet Ollie at the bottom, and her chair started to rock in reaction to the powerful thrusts. Anya’s triceps and shoulder muscles were burning from exertion, but she barely noticed beneath the heavy, opaque waves of pleasure smothering her brain.

Ollie, conversely, was in complete agony. Dual sensations of simultaneously choking and drowning to death dominated her headspace. Forming coherent thoughts was almost impossible under this kind of duress, aside from fleeting pleas of “Help me!” or “Stop it!”. Her usual cheery, energetic countenance was rapidly disappearing behind slick layers of Anya’s refuse. The upward strokes left long slimy strings of syrup-thick pre cum and ball grease clinging to Ollie’s face, not even granted the time to thin out or break off before she was slammed back down into them. Every brutal stroke refreshed the coat of shimmering throat slop running down Anya's shaft, and pumped wide-arcing ropes of saliva out from the edges of Ollie’s mouth and burning nostrils.

Hot wet tears rolled out of Ollie’s eyes as the last bastion of her mental fortitude broke down. It was too much to handle, surpassing all of her worst expectations and claiming its spot as the lowest point of her life. The tears falling off Ollie seemed to hang in midair on the way up, small pearls glinting in the bedroom’s overhead light, before they raced back into her face and splattered against her cheeks, forever lost within the rest of Anya’s bodily fluids.

The scene at Anya’s desk was a blur of shifting flesh, sweat, and saliva. Lustful moans and desperate muffled cries competed for auditory dominance. Anya’s long mane of flowing brown hair bobbed and swam across her heavily flushed face as she let her base desires take absolute control.

At this point, in Anya’s mind, what she held in her hands wasn’t a famous entertainer, or a friend, or even a human being. It was a tight, wet hole, made only to be abused, fucked, and drowned in semen.

The final thrust brought Ollie deep into Anya’s sack, her nose buried snugly within the seam between the testicles, and the soft, taunt skin pressing against her eyelids. “Ahhn…i-it’s coming!” Anya grit her teeth while clinching the back of Ollie’s skull, fingers threading within the ridiculous messy locks of neon red and white, and mashed the zombie’s face even further into her crotch. Anya’s small frame hitched, every muscle tensed up, and a dense torrent of jelly-thick, week-old semen surged up her urethra. Her load was so heavy and powerful that it blasted against the back of Ollie’s throat like a ruptured fire hydrant, piling against itself before Ollie could even begin to swallow.

Consuming such an amount was impossible, so Ollie could only sputter pathetically around Anya’s cock while she poured rope after rope of backed-up jizz down her undead throat. The off-white mass quickly brimmed past Ollie’s lips and exploded out from the sides of her mouth and both nostrils in powerful spurts, flushing her sinuses with a stinking deluge of futa spunk. Anya’s cock, now fully submerged in a warm pocket of her own semen, continued pulsing and emptying her balls until her load was pouring out of Ollie's respiratory orifices in thick, unbroken streams.

Drawing the first deep breath in minutes, Anya relaxed her lower body and let the aftershocks of the best orgasm of her life vibrate through her limbs. It almost felt like she was pissing cum for those brief seconds of ejaculation, and her mind needed a second to come back to reality.

She pulled Ollie’s well-used head off her still twitching cock and turned her back around. Thick globs of pearly spunk sloughed off Ollie’s face like cake batter, smothering the entirety of her mouth, cheeks, and chin in white. A slimy multi-layered coat of ball sweat and saliva smothered the area around her nose and forehead, ensuring close to none of her patchwork skin was left unclaimed by Anya’s reeking effusions. The warm mass of congealed bodily fluids pooled around the depressions of her eye sockets and nostrils, then slowly curved down around the bottom of Ollie’s jaw before dripping and splattering to the floor.

For a moment there was only Anya’s labored, satisfied breath and Ollie’s tortured, phlegmy wheezing.

“Okay…sniff...all done,” Ollie gasped from beneath the weighty, steaming blanket of jizz, straining her lips into a placating smile. A large bubble of cum blew from her right nostril. “P-please let me down.”

Anya scoffed and wordlessly raised Ollie’s lips back to the head of her cock. “What do you mean? That was my first shot. Monday’s taken care of, but there’s still six more days to go, right?”

Ollie’s eyes went wide as though run through with electricity. “What? No, no, I can’t do it anymore! Let me down, please! I’ll m-make it up to you some other-” Her voice was swiftly muffled by Anya’s fat cockhead plowing back through her trembling lips. Anya forced her onahole snugly back down to the base, easily gliding through now that Ollie’s throat had been stretched out and there was so much natural lube pouring down her shaft. She reclined in her chair with a heavy sigh and took a moment to cancel tonight’s stream. There was a lot of work to do.

–

Hours later, Reine approached Anya’s bedroom to inquire about the evening’s stream. Her Discord messages had been ignored to this point, so she figured Anya must have been asleep or occupied with something else.

As Reine made her way down the hall, peculiar noises emanated from beyond Anya’s door with more and more clarity– solid wet smacks punctuated by pained whimpers, the sound of flesh ramming into flesh with reckless need. This, combined with the thick smell wafting from under the door frame, left little to the imagination when Reine reached for the handle.

“Anya? I’m coming in.”

Reine opened the door just in time to witness Anya forcing Ollie against her crotch like she was trying to crush her skull. The dagger girl was sweating profusely and doubled over, burying Ollie in a sweltering tomb of balls and soft tit flesh. Reine watched, unmoving, as Anya unloaded heavy spurts into Ollie's throat that nudged her chair on each release. The zombie’s headless body writhed and flailed against the dresser on the other side of the room like it was being stuck with invisible cattle prods. A noticeable bulge was swelling Ollie’s stomach as well, looking as though she just finished off a six course meal and went back for seconds.

Reine cleared her throat while she internalized what must have transpired in the past hours. “Are you guys still going? I can come back if you need more time.”

Anya unclenched her hands and flopped back in her seat, head hanging over the chair’s backrest. Complete physical exhaustion would be an understatement. “Hahh No, it’s fine…we just finished. Hold on.” She wretched Ollie’s head off her softening length with a noisy squelch and held her by the hair like a freshly caught fish. Ollie was borderline catatonic, and practically unrecognizable beneath the multiple masks of caked-on semen. Thick piles of lumpy cum poured from her tired, hanging jaw that Ollie no longer had the strength or cognizance to close.

With a casual flick of the wrist, Anya chucked Ollie into a nearby wastebasket, giving her a faceful of Anya’s old crusty jizz tissues from weeks prior.

The smell of sex and sweat had wormed it’s way into Reine’s brain, and the scene playing out just seconds ago had planted some devious thoughts. She rubbed her legs together and spoke up. “Um, so you are done, right? Do you mind if I…borrow her for a bit?”

“Hmm? Oh, that thing? Sure.” With her sex drive temporarily satisfied, Anya returned to her usual demeanor and reached for some clean tissues to wipe herself off.

“Great, thanks!” Reine skipped over and snatched Ollie from the trash. There were a good amount of used tissues clinging to her face and she still reeked of Anya’s ejaculate, but that wasn’t anything a good scrub under the sink wouldn’t fix. Reine smiled. How convenient that she found Ollie in this state right before sitting down for her nightly masturbation session!

Reine’s eyes met Anya’s on the way out and a certain thought passed between them, unspoken yet perfectly communicated: How long should the two of them keep Ollie separated from her body? Another day? The rest of the week? …Months?

By all accounts, Ollie was much more bearable like this.