The Fucdoll Certification

"Oh! Oh no, shoot, I'm sorry baby!"

I pulled a look of disappointment, entirely fabricated of course. This was just part of what we did. I think.

"Another denial?" I asked her in reply.

"Gosh, yeah. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong!" she said, staring at her phone, slumped in the bed behind me while I pecked away on some work stuff at the desk.

"You know," I said over my shoulder, "you could just let me take a look at it. There has to be something in the email that says why your submissions are being rejected." I looked back to see if she was listening. She was.

"What, you don't think I can figure this out? I'm smart you know!" She scrunched up her nose and squinted at me. It was unreasonably cute.

"I know you are, smarty pants." I turned back to my work, only to be interrupted once again, this time by the oaf I shared the apartment with yelling from down the hall.

"Hey! Are you coming out tonight? Dave says there'll be girls this time!" he shouted, ignorant to the fact that I'd had a non-imaginary one in here for the better part of the weekend, and most nights in the week before. I swear, he wouldn't notice if the world ended sometimes. I leaned back in my chair to crack the door and reply.

"Nah," I hollered back, "I gotta finish up some work, and the girls are definitely just going to be his cousins again."

"Fuck you dude, I know you'd plug Marissa if she'd let you!"

I imagined that I could feel her eyes burrowing into the back of my head. He might be right about Marissa, but I'd never let her know that.

I offered a crude reply about my unwavering preference for his mother as he scooped up his keys and left the apartment laughing. I looked back cautiously, sure I'd get an earful. She lay in the pile of pillows and blankets, scrolling through her phone with a stern look on her face. The silence was heavy, and uncomfortable.

"I uhh..." I offered.

"Oh shut up, stupid," she laughed, losing control of the façade of righteous indignation and throwing a pillow at me, "you should see your face right now! Like I give a fuck."

The truth was that *I* gave a fuck. Not specifically about the Marissa thing, but the other thing; the thing that happens when a beautiful woman randomly strolls into your life, sucks the life out of you daily for a week, starts calling you 'baby', falling asleep in your arms every night, and yet doesn't want your roommate to find out about her, or acts like you're just there to act as a stunt cock for her fan site page. I wouldn't admit to caring, but I cared. I was starting to care a lot.

"Besides, I know there's no way she'd let you do the stuff you do to me anyway." Her little wink didn't come close to suggesting the full scope of what she was talking about.

A week had passed since Ashley had knocked on my door, expecting to partake in an overheard foursome that had been nothing more than a technical failure on my part. Since then, we'd spent any time that we could get alone in trying to complete more of the prerequisites that would contribute to her getting certified as a JustAdmirers.com fuckdoll. The fan site, enormously popular, had established the program to offer an appealing draw for creators to put more effort into their pages. In return, the models got access to a modest benefits package, some higher financial remuneration, and even the ability to 'specialize' in some areas. Of the 100 prerequisites, Ash needed two thirds of them to earn her Fuckdoll International Standards Certification. So far, she'd only managed a handful.

It wasn't for lack of trying or anything. She'd submitted no less than 5 clips of herself this week for verification, but continued to be met with rejection after rejection for technical shortcomings or bad angles or whatever else the emails said; I wouldn't know, given that she wouldn't let me see them. I couldn't even find her profile on the site, which she continued to insist was because she had set it to private until her certification was completed. True or not, she had her reasons, and I'd respect that for as long as she needed me to. I wouldn't risk pushing her away, not now, now that I...cared for her.

"No," I laughed, "I really don't think she would. I saw her gag on a hotdog at a barbeque once."

"Oh my god," she chuckled, sitting upright. The blanket fell away from her shoulders; she wore only my t-shirt. "Could you imagine how depressing her blowjobs must be? God, she'd probably choke to death on the tip alone!" She fell to a short fit of laughter, imagining the comedy of the situation, and pulling a ludicrous face in imitation of someone choking. Her laugh was so sweet; her little nose bunched up and snorting contentedly every time she got herself really worked up. We both eased back out of the mirth of her crude joke after a minute.

"Oh but I really shouldn't tease," she said with slap of the blanket fortress around her, sounding genuinely sympathetic, "I know some girls don't like that kind of thing. I forget that not everyone is like you and me sometimes."

She'd made similar comments a few times. 'You and me' this, 'me and you' that. I wasn't entirely sure what all fit into that box, aside from a general sexual depravity that had served as the basis for our continued...association? Friendship? I failed to see how my being a rabid masturbator and porn addict was in any way comparable to whatever you'd call her. There was a divide, in my mind, between me and the alter to pornographic spectacle that my bedroom represented, and the outright feral degeneracy of a woman so dedicated to the art that she routinely choked herself out on my cock. There were worlds between us. I was like the naked guy in that DaVinci painting, arm outstretched to make the barest connection between his fingertip and that of his god. How could there ever be a 'you and me'?

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Their loss, I suppose. Some people just don't know what's good for them. You want something to eat? I can order in. Jeff'll probably stay at Dave's tonight, so we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Hmm," she mused, "can it be something light? No wait, that's no fun. Pizza?" she asked, perking at the thought. God, but she was cute.

"We can do pizza, sure. Want me to call?"

"Yes please" she said with a mildly predatory smile blooming across her pretty face. I knew that was.

"Stop it, you. No more blowing me while I'm on the phone. No, I mean it! Don't make that face. My boss nearly figured it out last time. No, you stay over there you little..."

She crossed the few feet from the bed to my desk chair swiftly, crawling up into my lap to plant an aggressive barrage of kisses on my face and lips.

"Fiiiiine," she conceded, rolling her eyes as I wrestled her back, "but you owe me then!"

"For what?!" I teased, "buying you dinner AGAIN this week?" She laughed, pretending to think hard about the jibe.

"Mmm, yeah," she draped her arms around my neck. She was so close to me. She dropped her voice, speaking softly, "You owe me for letting you buy me dinner. Again. And you owe me for letting you watch a movie with me in here while we eat. And, let me think. You also owe me for letting you lend me your shirt." Her voice was so quiet by the end. I had no choice but to kiss her.

"Is there anything else I owe you for?" I asked.

"There *is* just one more little, tiny thing" she said, taking my hand and guiding it up her smooth thigh to settle on her naked hip, surely hoping I'd register her nakedness under the tee.

"Tell me," I whispered, moving to graze her butt softly.

Another soft kiss.

"You owe me,"

Another, impossibly gentle peck.

"For taking so long to order."

She squealed with reckless abandon as I tickled her right back onto the bed, screeching her petitions for an escape from her sentence. I ceased only once I was sure she'd paid the price of for her crime, and called in the order.

*******

Movie nights looked a little different for us than you might be used to. The array of wall mounted monitors and large TV connected to my computer were often used for video games or work, but whenever the apartment was empty it turned into something else entirely.

"Can we watch something different tonight," she said, plucking a greasy pepperoni off the top of the pizza I'd just slapped down onto the bed between us, "I feel like switching it up."

"Well," I said, "what are you in the mood for? Bondage?"

"Ew, not with pizza, you fucking weirdo," she said, inexplicably repulsed at the thought, as if we hadn't watched a 2 hour blowbang over some Chinese food on Thursday, "Do you have anything new? I want something you haven't seen yet so we can watch it together for the first time."

Most girls who said things like that meant canonically classic RomComs, or Disney movies. Not hardcore pornography.

"Not really, but let me look." I navigated through a few tabs while she plated a slice for me, and plunked it in my lap.

"There!" she exclaimed, pointing insistently, "Do that one!"

"Really? How is that.. You know what, sure. Let's do it."

We sat in contented silence for the most part, happily munching down dinner together and beaming giddy smiles back and forth while watching two leather-clad women work a series of phallic toys in and out of a third woman, who was drenched in some description of oil.

"Can you imagine how hard that would be to get out of the sheets?" Ashley asked me, setting her empty plate aside. "Hurry up so I can cuddle on you."

I didn't tell her that I knew exactly how hard it was. I scarfed down my last few bites and ditched the plate, holding up an arm so she could crawl up next to me, still in just my tee.

"Which one do you like?" she asked. Again, where the question would have been a trap from other girlfriends, this was no such thing from her. And she wasn't my girlfriend anyway.

"The brunette" I said, watching her grope the naked woman's ass with a gloved hand as she worked a large dildo in and out of her punishingly stretched asshole on screen.

"Mmm, me too," she said matter of factly, "though I wish she'd take her tits out." I conceded that the latex bodysuit would look better on the floor.

"See if there's anything with her in it where she's naked. I want to know what she looks like," she said with a cheek pressed to my chest, snuggly tucked up under my arm. I paused the video to do as I was told.

"This one?" I asked, hovering over the grainy thumbnail that played a short preview clip.

"Do the one next to it" she said, pointing up to the preferred option. 'Fake Cum Gloryhole for Desperate Jizz Addict' it was then.

We watched in cozy serenity as the woman from the previous scene entered a poorly constructed washroom set, laughing at the fact that the fake toilet in the corner had no toilet paper next to it, and murmuring in appreciation at the realistic quality of the fake cock that flopped through the neatly trimmed hole in the wall. Our need to see her topless was almost instantly gratified, as she popped a squat in front of the fleshy toy and started eagerly slurping at it while managing to wiggle out of her scandalously short dress at the same time.

"Cute," Ashley remarked, satisfied with the reward for our patience, "those are beautiful". She had a good eye; the woman was magnificently framed, and they swung so hypnotically as she bobbed her head back and forth.

"You like that?" I asked, rhetorically.

"Mhm," was the absentminded reply, "look how she holds it too. She's a good girl."

That was her way of giving approval; the highest compliment she could bestow. Good girl. Not everyone we watched got the title, but many did. I suspected that almost anyone who was dedicated enough to fucking on camera qualified as a good girl in her books.

"Are you?" I asked.

"Hmm?" she murmured, not paying much attention to me.

"A good girl? Are you a good girl?"

I got no verbal reply, but she wiggled the arm trapped between our bodies free and proffered it toward me where it hung curiously in the air. She tore her eyes from the video to look up at me after a few seconds, as if to determine what the source of my misunderstanding was, and shoved the digits into my mouth abruptly with a little frown; she'd been rubbing herself while we watched. I savored the tangy flavor.

She said nothing, slipping the hand back between us, and returned to watching.

Over the hour-long duration of the scene, in which the rubber dick vomited a truly comedic series of enormous fake loads all over the young woman, she continually rubbed at herself, occasionally hugging the arm across my chest a little tighter and emitting low, breathy sighs. I watched, three times, as the chipped nail polish on her toenails curled away from sight, kissing the top of her head each time. It came so easily for her, no more exciting or pronounced than stifling a yawn. She was more animated with me, but the orgasms she gifted herself while we cuddled like this were subdued little things that she drew out with subdued ease.

"Cock now" she said simply, just as the scene wrapped; I pawed at the keyboard on the covers next to me while she tugged me free of my sweatpants. She wasn't asking, that was just what time it was.

"Are you going to watch this one?" I asked, curious as to whether she expected her mouth to be too busy to watch.

"Whatever you want is fine," She said, pulling her hair back in a messy little bun before ditching the t-shirt, "I haven't decided yet." I'd seen her naked almost constantly in the days since we met, now almost two weeks, but the sight of her sweet little body kneeling naked on my bed still blew my mind more than just a little bit. Aside from the plump little ass and perfect double handful-sized tits, her tummy was the perfect pillow to squish my face into, and her strong thighs kept her squatting on me for far longer than you'd reasonably expect someone to manage. It was a gorgeous body, and it belonged to a gorgeous person. Just not *my* person, frustratingly.

I settled on a scene that I desperately hoped she might take some inspiration from, but she opted to kneel on the floor to stroke me, two-handed, towards her chest, leaving her back to the video entirely. Still, the heavenly display of a Brazilian woman sitting her improbably fat ass repeatedly onto the face of a smaller girl, who eagerly supped on whatever hole was nearest her mouth, had me aching to explode in no time. Ashley, angel that she was, urged me on in greedy tones.

"That's it, baby. That's it, you just keep on watching. Keep watching while I stroke your big beautiful cock. I need you to give me a nice big load tonight, okay? Yes, yes baby, that's so good. Don't hold back, okay? I need you to cover my beautiful body with all your sticky cum for me. Do you hear me? Yeah? Yeah, are you going to do that for me, baby?"

My ass clenched the sheets under me, and my thighs began to tighten. She was no novice; she knew what this meant. The woman on screen bore down on her giddy victim, fistfuls of hair clenched tightly to pull her face up harder.

"Ohhh that's it baby, be a good boy and give me your cum now. Look at me. Look at me baby. Good! Good, that's it. Yes baby, look into my eyes while you cover me in your cum, okay? Give me my cum now. Now baby. Now! Come on."

Ever eager to please, I gave her just what she wanted, blasting her between the collarbones with enough force to splash a few creamy globs up under her chin. Her triumphant laughter was simply musical, and my chest swelled with pride to know that I'd done well for her.

"FUCK yes, baby! That's so good!" she praised, jerking me right through the fading orgasm to perfection, "Such a big load for me! I love it!"

"You're perfect" I said, flopping backward on the bed, arms outstretched, catching my breath contentedly.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said, smiling broadly as she prodded and smeared the cum pasted all over her chest, even licking a sample off the end of a curious finger with a wet 'POP', "and, to think, you could have been *plugging* that Marissa girl tonight instead of hanging around here with little ol' me."

Between the dissipating fog of my post orgasmic clarity and the mounting frustration of not knowing how to broach the topic of my feelings, I shoved my foot in it entirely.

"Oh yeah, like that would be any better than this," I said, "she's such a lazy fuck anyway."

She stopped, mid wipe of the towel she was cleaning herself with, still kneeling in front of me.

"What?" she asked evenly.

"I mean, this is obviously way better..."

"Not that part, dipshit. You fucked her?"

I hadn't. Really, I hadn't. Honestly.

"No! Jeff's other friend did though," I said in a panic, trying desperately not to make a mountain out of a mole hill, "and he said she just laid there the whole time!"

She squinted at me, offering only a terse "Hmm" before making her way to the bathroom. The lock clicked, and the shower started.

It was getting late by that point, and I dared to hope that she'd stay the night despite the awkwardness. We didn't fight; we weren't a couple, so what was there ever for us to fight about? No, we just kept doing this way-worse thing where we pretended this was just very cool and casual, and there was no jealousy, mistrust, or feeling between us at all. Maybe it *was* just casual for her.

How much would that suck?

The shower ran for a good half hour while I cleared up the leftovers of our food, started a load of dirty laundry in the machine, and tidied up. Eventually, she reemerged, wrapped in a towel, looking very, very sheepish.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled, standing in the doorway, hair plastered wetly to her head. My relief was immediate and total, but I was wholly unpracticed at accepting apologies over things like this from women who didn't owe them to me.

"It's okay," I said, trying to sound unbothered, "Really, it's cool."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Totally, yeah, fine. Totally fine."

"I just..."

"Don't even worry about it," I repeated, hoping she'd accept the absolution. She took a deep breath, nodding in relief.

"Okay, good. Good. Yeah. Yeah, okay. So I can uhh," she drawled, pushing the discomfort aside with an effort, "stay the night, right?"

"Get in here, dummy" I said, whipping the sheets back. She dropped the towel to the floor with a happy shimmy and we crawled in together.

*******

The luminous glow of LED light awoke me, too painfully bright for me to risk opening my eyelid more than the barest crack.

"Ash?" I said, sleepily piecing together the scene. She had booted the computer back up, my shrine to digital sexuality and pornographic alter of worship. There was no need for me to hide what it was from her, so I never locked the thing when she was around.

"Oh, shoot, sorry!" she whispered back in the dark from somewhere near the desk, "Shhhh, go back to sleep."

"What are you doing over there?" I asked, "and what time is it?"

"Close your little eyes back up, I'll be right back, I promise." I could hear the mouse clicking furiously.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes in vain hope of restoring my vision in the face of the blazing monitors.

"Ashley, what the hell..."

She had tried to be quick, but not quick enough; experiencing a common pitfall of having so many screens linked to a single computer, she'd lost the cursor and failed to find it in time to hide what she'd been looking at.

"Shit" was all she offered, knowing she'd been caught. Marissa's social media pages were open on two of the monitors. A third was open to my meticulously sorted and tagged drive of porn videos. The TV screen had been paused on a grainy video that I didn't recognize at all.

"I can explain?"

"I don't know if you can" I said, hoping that I didn't sound too angry as I rose from bed to walk over to where she sat naked in my chair, looking for all the world like a guilty puppy. "What are you looking for?"