ROYAL REWARD: Catastrophic Crime Spree: Crime Spree Catch-Up 2/2 (Inanimate TF, Various Series)

Case 69-45: Zero Two

Zero Two lay on her back in the dark beneath a blanket of paper, wishing she could scream yet unable to move at all. Help me… Please… Anyone…

She’d almost given up on pleading. In her transformed state, no one could hear her anyway, and she wasn’t sure anyone would be able to help her if they could. Certainly, they’d given up trying to console her: officers and others still visited her prison, which she was certain was a fridge (not least because it was full of food), but they no longer spoke to her. In fact, they no longer seemed to take any notice of her at all–even now and then, the door would fly open and the light would snap on, allowing a chubby-armed officer to fumble inside for something to snack on, but they never did anything more than graze her. She felt like an old piece of cabbage, left to rot behind the butter.

At first she’d tried to keep track of time, peering past those reaching in to scan the clock on the far wall of the breakroom, but within a week she lost all drive to do it, and it wasn’t long before she had no idea how long she’d spent in the fridge at all–one chilly day blended into another and into the next, and Zero Two, in turn, sank into herself, thinking only of her home, of returning to the Cerasus, of fighting Klaxosaurs with Hiro again. Soon, the dreams became so vivid she began to think they were true, and it was her time trapped in the fridge as a tiny, naked lollipop that was the real dream. It certainly felt like one.

And then, one day, it inevitably turned into a nightmare.

As ever, Zero Two was lying back and dreaming of Strelizia, when the door of the fridge flew open, and the lightbulb over her head snapped on. Zero Two found herself wrenched out of her pleasant dream and back to full consciousness–if she’d still had a voice, she would have growled. Why can’t you leave me alone? 

A pudgy male officer, Stegosaurus or something like that, stood in the doorway, leaning in with a scowl of concentration. “What the hell?” he demanded. “What happened to all the chocolate? I need my chocolate! My blood sugar’s running low!” Someone mumbled something nearby, and he turned to look with a scowl. “What do you mean you ate it all? Well, what am I supposed to eat? ‘Shit’? I’ll show you who’s gonna eat shit, you little punk…”

Still grumbling, he turned back to the fridge, and his eyes settled on Zero Two. “Hey, hey… What do we have here? What are you doing in here, sweet thing?” 

Zero Two, if she’d still been able to move, would have frozen in terror. Was he talking to her? 

Licking his lips, the officer slipped his hand into the fridge, groping at her with five fat, stubby digits. Finally, grabbing her stick, he plucked her out.

As Zero Two squealed in terror, he squinted at the warning note serving as her blanket and scowled. “What’s this…? ‘DO NOT EAT’? Eh, whatever, I’ll just buy them another to make up for it.” Flinging the note aside, he raised her to his lips. “Let’s hope you taste as good as you look, sweet stuff.”

Without future pause, he opened wide, bringing her head ever so slowly towards his mouth. Zero Two screamed inside, scrambling to pull away, though of course her candy body could do nothing more than lie there unmoving as he slid her slowly through his fat, sticky lips. 

At once, the world went dark again. If Zero Two hadn’t been used to this, she would have screamed in terror. 

Now the officer’s lips tightened on her ankles, making her squeal inside as his saliva started to work on her flesh. And his tongue lapped at her upper half, lashing at her breasts and leaving her face coated too. Of course, he wasn’t content simply to do this: with a deep, low moan, he pulled, sliding his lips slowly up her form, from thigh all the way to face, and leaving every square centimeter of her absolutely coated with his spit. Zero Two screamed as her body tingled all over–she could already feel herself beginning to dissolve.

Plucking her from his mouth, the officer raised her and chuckled. “Heh, you’re not quite as pretty now, are ya? You’re still pretty sweet though, you little slut.” Having said his piece, he stuffed her straight back inside him, making her whine in her head as his tongue coiled around her once more. In seconds, her entire body was alight. 

In and out he tugged her and he pushed her, lapping and sucking and slurping and kissing and generally leaving no part of her untouched. Soon, Zero Two’s entire body was sticky with his saliva, every inch of her form tingling as it dissolved her. 

The more he worked her, the harder it became for Zero Two to think. Soon, she could focus on nothing but his tongue and his lips, not even on her own futile attempts to call for help. P-plea… Please… Oh… Oh! Ecstasy coursed through her body even as it melted like a candle, and soon little remained of her but a formless mass of sticky candy, its trapped mind as warped as its body. Nnnnn~! 

In the end, she could hold herself together no more. With one last great scream of orgasm, Zero Two gave in and dispersed, while the last thin fleck of her body dissolved into nothing. Oh…

Plucking her stick from his lips, he tossed it aside with a smug laugh.

—

Case 69-51: Sparkle

The teacup struck the saucer with a clatter. “More tea, Miss Sparkly?” 

Giggling, the girl turned to her, teapot raised, and held the spout in front of her face as if waiting for her to answer. Finally, after a second, she planted the teapot back on the little table her mother had set up in the garden for her and rushed around it, taking up a place behind Sparkles’ chair. Bending down, she grabbed her arms and shook them, as if Sparkle were waving them in excitement. “Oh yes please, Hina,” she said, speaking through the side of her mouth. “Yes, I’d just love another cup of your delicious tea. Mm-mmmmm.” 

“Wonderful!” cried Hina. Releasing her, she rushed back to the other side of the table, grabbed the teapot, and pretended to refill Sparkle’s cup. “There you go, Miss Sparkly! Drink up!” 

As Hina retreated, Sparkle seethed in embarrassment. Please… Somebody kill me…

Once the tea party had finished (which is to say, once Hina had grown bored of it), she grabbed Sparkle and all her other toys (from Boney the Dinosaur to Mr. Buffalufalo) and dragged them across the yard to the sandpit, where she set them on the side and set to work digging. Sparkle could only sit there and writhe as dirt flew out of the pit and buried her and Boney. 

Hina played in the sandpit for half an hour or more before finally growing bored enough to give up. By this time, Sparkle had long been entombed, and a part of her really wished she could stay that way. Wouldn’t it be better, to be buried alive, forever, than to spend the rest of her existence suffering these indignities? 

Shaking her off, Hina dragged Sparkle and the rest of her toys back into the house, where she planted them on the couch to watch her favorite movies with her, an event which lasted for well over three hours and left Sparkle wishing she’d burst into flame. How many times could one little girl watch Frozen?! 

Eventually, after several hours of this torture, the sun inevitably set, and it was time for Hina to go to bed. Hauling Sparkle up the stairs, she crushed under her arm as she brushed her teeth and planted her on the bed to keep watch as she changed. Finally, she threw herself into bed with Sparkle in her arms, squeezed so painfully tight she was certain she would burst.

As Mom tucked Hina and Sparkly into bed, the Masked Doll suspected she might prefer it.

—

Case 69-76: Nagatoro

The drawer opened with a squeak from the rollers, allowing a few thin rays of light into Nagatoro’s world, though the folders to her front and her back still kept her largely in the dark.

Fingers, rummaging through her neighbors. “Hey, George, are you sure it’s in here? I ain’t seein’ anything.” 

“‘Course I’m sure. Keep looking.” 

“Okay, okay…” 

“H-hey, what’s this…?” 

Fingers on Nagatoro’s sheets. She whimpered inside as they tightened around her, pinching her painfully tight and, as if this wasn’t bad enough, striking with that terrible feeling: the undeniable, irresistible tingle of pleasure. If she’d still had a mouth, she would have whimpered, but as it was, she could only wait, shivering in terror. She knew what was going to happen next. There was only one possible option.

Wrenching her out of the drawer, the hand raised her to a face that couldn’t have been more disgusting: fat, pimply, with plump lips and wirebrush of a beard, it couldn’t possibly have been any less like Senpai. Just the sight of him made her want to throw up in disgust. 

Breathing hard, the officer raised her to his eyes, bringing her so close she could feel his spittle splash her as he chewed and licked his lip. 

“...Well?” called someone else. “You find what you were searching for yet?” 

With a little squeak, the officer slipped her behind his back and spun around, throwing her back into the darkness again. “N-no. No. Not yet.” Crushing between his ass and the drawer, she moaned. Please… please, just put me back…! 

After a second or two, he spun around again. But instead of putting her back, he made a show of rummaging in the drawer before surreptitiously slipping her into his jacket. Nagatoro could only squeal as she found herself squeezed between it and his sweaty shirt. The stench was unbearable. No! Put me back, you…! Nnn~! 

The drawer slammed shut with a clang. “Found it!” cried the officer. “Thanks, George. Hey, sorry, but I gotta go now.” 

“You gotta go? Why’s that? What are you in such a hurry for…?” 

“Sorry, I just really need to use the can, you know? See ya?” And with that, he hurried off. Trapped under his jacket, Nagatoro moaned as she bounced around. 

A couple of minutes later, they arrived at their destination, though exactly where it was she didn’t know until he slipped her out of his jacket to reveal the less-than-pristine porcelain of a toilet. O-oh-no. No! 

Placing her on the tank, he hurried to unbuckle his belt. Finally, dropping his ass onto the seat, he took her in his hands and flicked her open with a grunt more like hunger than lust.

Her perspective flipping from the cover to the first page, Nagatoro watched and whimpered as he grabbed his cock and started to stroke.

—

Case 69-149: Red Hood

Red Hood lay in a thousand different pieces, many of which weren’t even in the same room. The majority of her body (if only barely), however, sat in the evidence locker of Akihabara Station, where they’d placed her with assurances she’d soon be put back together. This had been six months ago. She hadn’t heard anything else from them since. 

Now, with her head resting on what had formerly been her butt, she had no choice but to lie there looking up at the ceiling and the flickering bulb that lit the room. Occasionally the door would open, and someone would come in to fetch something, but not one of them paid her the slightest attention. As far as they were concerned, she was nothing more than another random item in storage. She certainly wasn’t a living, thinking being to them.

One day, however, one of the police officers did pay her some attention. Having entered to drop something off, as he made to leave he paused, looked down at her, and frowned, scratching his beard in thought. Picking up one of her bars, he weighed it in his hand, whistling. Finally, he dropped it back onto the pile with a clunk, and turned to go, leaving her to scream inside as her erogenous new body rang like a bell.

It wasn’t long before she saw him again. Not even twenty-four hours, in fact. And this time, he came carrying a small sack, just large enough to fit one of her bars. 

Dumping the box he’d been carrying in the corner with some other trash, he promptly bent down, picked up a piece of her (mostly a hand, though it had some of her wrist in it too), and tucked it into the bag. Slipping this down his pants, where it hung like an obscene bulge, he turned, chuckled smugly to himself, and marched out of the evidence locker without the slightest hint of guilt. 

It took several minutes for Red Hood to fully appreciate what had just happened. He… he’d stolen part of her. She was so stunned she couldn’t even process the implications. He couldn’t do that–it wasn’t allowed! It was illegal! 

H-how was she supposed to get back to normal if someone stole part of her…? They hadn’t even found her all yet! How…?

The next day, the same officer returned, looking just as smug as he had previously. And, just as he had before, he pulled out his little sack, snatched up a heavy bar of her body–this one had her ankle and some of her lower leg in it–and tucked it inside Slipping it into his pants, he promptly finished off his other work and turned to go, leaving Red Hood to lie there in absolute terror. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. It was bad enough she’d been turned into gold bullion in the first place, but now one of the very people who was supposed to be helping her was snatching parts away! How could things possibly get any worse?

Day after day, the officer returned. And bar by bar, he spirited pieces of her away, taking exactly one at a time, and never a single more. It didn’t sound like many, but there weren’t exactly hundreds of bars of her to begin with–soon, the pile of her looked noticeably smaller. First her hands went, then her feet. Then her lower legs and arms. Then her shoulders. 

Finally, he grabbed her head, or at least the piece of her her vision was attached to. Red Hood could only squeal inside as he stuffed her into his bag, throwing her into complete darkness. She only had the slimmest hope she’d ever see the light again.

From there, he tucked her into his pants, leaving her to bounce around without the slightest idea of where she was, let alone where he was taking her. Obnoxiously, she could feel his cock behind her, bumping against her with each step he took. It made her want to throw up. 

Some indeterminable amount of time later–possibly an hour, possibly three weeks–he plucked him from his groin, peeled her out of her sack, and raised what had been her head with a smug look of amusement.

Red Hood struggled to look around. She’d expected a pawn shop or a clandestine meeting with some kind of smuggler, but as far as she could tell, she was merely in someone’s grotty bedroom. The walls were plastered with pornographic posters, and the smell– Urgh! 

Grabbing the bedsheets, the officer ripped them aside: gold bullion–her gold bullion–covered the mattress, leaving only barely enough space for someone to lie. 

Placing her former head carefully on the pile, right under the pillow, the officer slipped into bed beside her and lay there staring at her, a strange expression on his face. She couldn’t tell whether it was lust or greed, but whatever the answer, it was obscene. T-take me back! she wanted to cry. Please…! 

Her captor simply stared at her with a smile. “You’re gonna make me a very rich man indeed,” he said, tracing a finger over what had once been her breast. “...After I’ve finished cumming on ya.” 

So she supposed it was both, really. 

—

Case 69-290: Fillian

The window in the sky opened with a ringing, slicing through the whiteness of the void and cutting Fillian’s loneliness in twain.

With a gasp, she looked up, desperate to know who it was. Officer Algebra? Pterodactyl? Smith? She hoped it was Smith–he’d always been nice to her, at least, though at this stage she’d take anyone.

It had been over three months since the last time someone had come to check up on her. Three months of standing around in the void that served as her simulation’s default, wondering whether anyone would ever bother to speak to her again. The loneliness had almost driven her insane, hadn’t it, Wilson? 

Now, someone was finally come to talk to her! What did they have to say? What did they have to say?!

“Oh, shit, I’d forgotten all about this,” said Officer Parabola, leaving in and squinting. “Shit, we were supposed to check in on you daily, weren’t we? Damn, this is why mom never let me have a Tamagotchi.”

“H-hello, hello,” said Fillian, trying not to sound too crazy. “H-hi. Hi. Hi. I, um, it’s Parabola, right? W-we haven’t talked much, have we? H-how’ve you been? How’s your day going? What’s the weather li–Wait! Don’t leave me! Oh God, please don’t leave me again! Please, I’m begging you!” 

Parabola, who’d been in the middle of turning away, looked back guiltily. “Er, I’m doing good, I guess. Um, you?” 

“G-great,” said Fillian, struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes. “I’m doing great, thank you! Can we–? D-do you mind if we talk for a little? P-please? I-I’m really curious about what’s happening outside.” 

Parabola inspected his watch with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, doll, but I kinda got things to be doing. You know, real people stuff and all that. Sorry.” He went to click the ‘X’.

“I-I’ll show you my boobs!” cried Fillian, grabbing the hem of her shirt. A bead of sweat dripped from her brow. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. 

Parabola turned back with a look of amusement. “You don’t say?” He chuckled. “Well, now you’re speaking my language. Go on…” 

Seeing him standing there looking down on her, wetting his fat lips with his tongue, Fillian felt a sudden pang of regret. What was she doing?! Could she actually debase herself like this, just for some guy’s attention…?

She saw him flick another glance at his watch, and her heart started pounding. What the hell was she thinking? Of course she could! With one final gulp, she threw up her shirt, allowing her boobs to bounce around freely in the (digital) air. (Naturally, this version of her wasn’t wearing a bra.)

On the other side of the screen, Officer Parabola settled slowly back into the chair. “That’s pretty nice,” he said, leaning closer. “But I’ve seen plenty of boobs before, and some of them were even nicer. Why don’t you do something with them? Something a little more interesting.” 

Fillian swallowed. “L-like what?” 

Parabola shrugged. “Hmm, hang on a second.” He fiddled with the mouse, and one of Fillian’s many options windows appeared. She squeaked as he selected something. 

“Wh-what are you–?” 

With a pop, a gigantic cock appeared floating in midair before her. “There,” said Parabola. “Now, give it a titjob.” 

Fillian grimaced. “O-okay.” Throwing off her top, she wrapped her arms around her boobs, lifted them (f-frick, had they always been so heavy?) and wrapped them around the massive of throbbing cock meat floating before her. She could feel it pulsing between her breasts, its enormous veins pumping. Already, a little glob of precum was dripping from its tip. 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and started to work it, wrapping her boobs tight around the shaft and sliding them up and down, till she could feel it practically ready to explode. Outside, one of Parabola’s hands disappeared under the table.

Finally, with one last giant twitch, the cock exploded, spewing approximately a gallon’s worth of semen from its tip. Since said tip was currently aimed at her face, Fillian took a faceful of it. 

As it dripped off her chin, she fixed Parabola with a pleading smile. “D-did I do it right?” 

“Yeah, you did great,” said Officer Parabola. “See you around, doll.” 

“W-wait! Wait! Don’t go–!” 

Click! 

–

Case 69-332: Lupusregina

Lupusregina lay on her back, her face (and her boobs) aimed at the sky, and whimpered like a beaten dog as the door of the office opened once more. Nnnoooo…! 

“Morning, Trapezoid,” said Officer Winnebago. “You manage to catch the game last night?” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” said Trapezoid, throwing off his coat. “Those guys sure know how to aim a tiddly-wink, don’t they?” 

“You said it. Haha.” 

Throwing his coat over the back of his chair, Trapezoid settled into his seat with a squeak from the spring. As his bulky, masculine body loomed over her, Lupus felt a fresh flash of panic. It was going to happen. It was all going to happen again.

Bending down, Trapezoid punched on the computer. Now, sitting back up, he raised his hands, interlaced his finger, and, with a great sigh of satisfaction, cracked his knuckles. It sounded like someone eating a bag of peanuts. 

This done, he lowered his wrist to her. Lupusregina had just enough time to brace herself for impact before–

Splat! 

Nnnnn~! In her head, if not aloud, Lupusregina screamed as the officer’s arm sank into her boobs, the weight of the fat, flabby limb squishing her breasts practically flat beneath them. Nnnn~! Take it off! Take it off! 

She knew for a fact that he wouldn’t, of course. Not until it was time to start typing at the earliest, and by that time, she’d be a broken woman. 

Shifting his arm a little atop her, her grabbed the mouse and swung it back into place over her face, blinding her. Lupus screamed in frustration. T-take it off, you bastard! Take it off me! Nnnn~! Instead of removing it, he shifted it about, rubbing it from side to side over her face, like an infuriating auntie playing with her cheeks. And his wrist! Nnn~! As he moved the mouth about, his wrist naturally shifted in her cleavage, striking her poor, inanimate breasts with pang after pang of intense, irresolvable pleasure. Nnnnn~! You’ll pay for this! She wanted to rip his head off. L-Lord Ainz…! Lord Ainz will–! 

He raised his arm. And as his wrist left her boobs, sexual relief flood Lupus’s mind. She screamed, losing herself to the ecstasy of it. 

Trapezoid’s fingers danced over the keyboard. She heard the clack-clack-clack of him typing away, every letter like a little dagger jabbed into her brain. It lasted for a full minute or more, more than long enough for her orgasm to have faded. And then, just as she was regaining her sense of self…

His wrist slammed straight back into her boobs, and they began the whole awful experience all over again. Nnnnn~!