My dear M200,

The T-doll that started it all, a long and undying adoration. Such a simple but elegant doll, with short fine silver hair like strands of sterling, pinkish purple eyes dull shallow and almost stern though concealing hidden warmth, a cute little nose, and smooth tender face. Your simple attire pleases me greatly, professional yet beautiful, black and white being two of the few colours I can appreciate in their full brilliance anyway. All the way down to your long perfect legs, my favorite being those short athletic socks and your customary sneakers. Paired with a weapon as beautiful to match.

I lay pondering in my waking hours imagining what could be, that wonderful aroma filling the air around me magically so alluring in its essence. Though the room is empty and dark my olfactory and gustatory senses play me a sweet song of longing. That fire ignites from the slow burning ember set all that time ago. The flame growing to a roaring fire akin to that of a blast furnace, the internal heat of which could melt tungsten just at the touch. Like a hound my nose seeks and I do find that which I yearn for most desperately. The bumps on my skin form as if I’m trudging the moonlit snow and tundra just outside my window. My senses elevated and blood vessels dilate as my heart beats ever harder with excitement. My mind swims with euphoria as I dream of sniffing your sweaty stinky feets. The smell of your feet so invigorating, I could just imagine inhaling that hallowed stench, filling my lungs with your foot sweat evaporate. You, M200, I want to PT you until your clothes are drenched in sweat then press my nose viciously to your toes and breathe the very moisture from your socks and feel the humidity in the back of my throat. That smelly smell of sweat formed by the secretions of exertion, that musky smell that fills the shower stall after a long run. Tactically low crawling to the bottoms of your shoes, carefully removing them to savor that first crisp burst of aroma escaping the tops like a Snapple *** opening, that hiss of sweat steam warmed by your glowing body heat and insulated by your sneakers. Deeply breathing the invisible cloud my sinuses coated with the brilliant funk of feet having stewed for hours in the hot sun and being put through trial. Sniffing the inside of the sneakers like gnawing on a hambone used in soup to enjoy every last bit of foot scent possible. But the appetizer only going so far, only serving to arouse my hunger rather than lay it back down. Removing your socks, pressing your beautiful soft stinky feet together, then passionately inhaling your gloriously sweaty dirty feet with their odors combined. Like a drug that stench filling my nasal cavities and lungs causing my olfactory nerves to fire uncontrollably. The absolute crushing weight of lusting desire boiling like a kettle of water super-heated to critical temperature. I must lick and indulge in that taste the smell of which driving me to realms of ecstasy only that perfect stench can achieve. Licking your beautiful feets clean, my tongue cutting through the grime of the day and grueling PT like a lathe leaving behind a sheen of slippery saliva as if it were cutting oil. Clipping your toe nails and inhaling what captured fermented scents lie beneath. My nose against your toes breathing in-between them that odor cooked by body heat and brined in foot sweat insulated by nylon fabrics of shoe. After I’d sated my appetite, it’d be my pleasure to take you to ice cream only to smear it upon your feet and do it all again. Perhaps I’d even pour some heavy cream into your sneakers and order them worn for 12 consecutive hours during duty so I could return and lick the curds and butter from in-between your toes then sniff the odor of foot fermented milk mixed with tennie stink. (End of letter in polished form).

Simply sniffing feet only goes so far however, as those warm bubbling desires are bedded down easily enough by indulging in a bit of foot cleaning. At some point the pressure will build like steam in a boiler to where I feel as if I’m about to burst at the seams. That internal struggle, a war of decency and depravity, as if holding back the flood waters of madness. Soon that dam built of will bursts and corruption flows fourth. My unbridled fervent passion for T-dolls, especially my favorites, will not be sated until I’ve enacted all that which swirls in my mind. Like a gathering storm made of the smoke from wildfires, my inner longing manifesting itself in black grey clouds illuminated by the lightning of charged desire.

There I sat clad in my usual green drab attire wrapped by Kevlar and composite armor with pouches galore carrying that which is typical to war. Normally I’d be on my usual walk, free of the boring rigors of administrative duties, tonight was different however as I sat just outside the head away from view. I’d not yet finished in M200. My hunger yet rumbled for T-doll and the escapade earlier today only served to reinforce that which churned inside. My waiting paid off as I spied M200 who’d just come off shift making her way down toward my position. M200 entered the head and I sprung from my hide following suit. Just before entering I pulled a blocking barrier in front of the door designating the head temporarily out of order. Rounding the corner I saw M200 removing her shoes and socks then tossing them into the trash. A grin crossed my face as I approached, M200 jumped and spun to face me, at once her blank expressionless face became down cast as she looked up at me then down at her bare feetsies. Now upon M200 I wrapped my left arm around the top of her shoulders and right leg behind her legs, loosening up on my left arm and sharply pulling with the right leg I tripped M200 and took her weight. Peering into her eyes I admired them a second before taking a whiff of her hair. It’d been plus or minus twenty hours since she last showered and the body odor of M200 smelled irresistible. Setting her down on the tile floor, I stood back up looming over her, gazing up at me with a sorrowful expression M200 returned. Taking a step back I unbuckled a shoulder strap to my vest doffing helmet and gear, a dull thud echoing about the room as both hit the ground. Now only girded by my belt I set about the business. Flipping M200 over I took full advantage of the bottoms of her feet. Having a light sniffing to get things a blaze within I savored the smell that was cultivated during the day. A powerfully musky smell of foot stink and spoiled milk, at once I saw fit to add to it one more ingredient. Removing a small jar of peanut butter from my cargo pocket I spread it on M200’s feet strategically placing globs between her toes. I proceeded to lick the peanut butter from her feet, my slippery tongue lapping between toes with great agility. M200 didn’t speak or so much as move aside from my own physical guiding as I directed her for better angles of attack during the foot lickings, I sought to change that.

My mind indulged deeper in the darkness like a scuba diver sinking into an underwater trench, the pressure of it all kept building and building as pleasure was all that filled my senses. I flipped up M200’s skirt and drove my nose to her rump taking a deep breath of that odor between her ass cheeks. Pulling back M200 gave a sudden jolt and a squeak of surprise, what I could see of her face contorted in terror. Tackling M200 on her back again I shot up and planted a deep kiss upon M200’s lips, forcing my tongue into her mouth and locking with her own tongue. Pulling away I observed the reaction with fixated interest. M200 puckered a bit then retched, evidently the taste of a day’s worth of foot licking, milk, and peanut butter wasn’t to her liking. A bit of vomit escaped the side of her cheek and I leaned forward licking it off her chin though this proved a terrible mistake as it was amazingly bitter and exceedingly unpleasant. None the less I continued forward returning to M200’s lower regions. Once again sniffing her ass, taking in that pungent smell highly concentrated slimy with sweat and the odor of flatulence. In my sniffings I noticed M200 slightly peed herself, I pressed myself to the spot and breathed that essence of ammonia. Now not able to hold myself any longer, peeling off M200’s soiled panties that pretty sight greeted me. She was wonderfully exposed and I supremely aroused. The sniffing would probe deeper and my tongue explore new crevices. M200 wriggled and squeaked, like a rabbit caught in a fox’s mouth. Her protest and fighting falling as music to my ear and interest peeking engagement as I locked M200 down forcing my will upon her. A droplet of *** escaped M200 and my tongue at once went forward licking it up, the sensation of her raw soft squishy sensitive flesh on my tongue and that salty metallic taste of urine sent shudders through my body. M200 hid her face in her hands, crying through them. I couldn’t restrain myself, I continued to lick slowly, savoring every ridge and bump, the texture as it gave way beneath my tongue, and that transparent slimy goo forming snot ropes as I pulled my tongue away.

All of a sudden a thought popped into existence, it was common enough though not one had about T-dolls. Caught in the moment I entertained it, a tingling sensation felt in my right hand, a quiet beautiful voice like a call from the distance bid me act. That slithering form clouded in a purple mist baring the name of ‘Perfect Prince.’ Far from perfect the irony of it all, that one earwig festering on the backburner of my subconscious that which I thought was vanished and powerless. But yet there it was sending ripples through my being like pulses of electricity. I looked up at M200, face still hidden muffled noises and sobs still escaping. I began to chuckle and a closed mouth grin crossing my face the acts of which stretched skin and strained muscles that were most of the time fixed at a grimace. With blank mind, body seemingly acting on its own leaving the consciousness a spectator, I reached slowly down to my thigh grabbing ahold of a thick over molded grip. Drawing the 8.38 inch .500 S&W Magnum revolver from its holster I sat up and leveled it on M200. With crazed delight and trembling hand my finger pulled that stiff double-action trigger rotating the heavy cylinder like a rolling boulder slamming into its nook the hammer released and a burst of absolute power followed. With ear shattering clamor and thick hazing smoke the recoil sent a hard shock through my wrist and forearm the muzzle now pointing at the ceiling. The active hearing protection under my helmet struggling to withstand the clap of noise having been pummeled like a ship against a rogue wave my ears rung like shrill bells. The 350 grain jacketed hollow point severing M200’s middle finger and carving a clean crescent out of the pointer as it entered her right eye blowing a fist sized chunk out of the back of her head dragging with it tufts of silvery hair, bone fragments, and bloody grey matter spattering against the wall. The room went silent as M200’s chin shot up her body slumping to the wall. I stared on observing that ruby splash on the white shower tile, a steady stream of gorgeous crimson mixed with small bits of pink fatty matter flowing toward the drain. Taking a deep inhale I stood to savor the smell of burnt gunpowder and blood in the air drifting in fine vapor. An urge overtook me, like that of a great white shark, an inexplicable yearning.

Unzipping my pants I let lose an engorged member throbbing anxious for what was next. Taking a fist full hair on the top of what was left of M200’s head I positioned myself then inserted. The cavity fitting my rod surprisingly well, a soft squish followed by a trickle of blood from the eye socket as it pushed in moving aside the loosened flesh creating a tunnel. The sensation sending electric tingles through my crotch like licking a 9v battery. Feeling with every thrust M200’s brain matter move around the shaft like a stiffer form of Jell-o, listening to the sloshing squishy noises. I noted how T-dolls felt so much less mechanical the Sangvis I normally preyed on, fewer wires and circuitry. After a few minutes basking in the sensation of grey matter I was rapidly nearing the breaking point. With a huff I released that handle of hair then knelt down spreading M200’s legs bringing her hips toward me. At first slipping a finger in to get the feel of M200’s soft beautiful cunt then eagerly thrusting forward to penetrate. With a sudden unplanned grunt a reverberation worked its way up the entire length of my body as I felt the inside of M200. Her tight welcoming entrance and walls enticing me to probe deeper. I slid in effortlessly my beam being slicked with M200’s ante mortem secretions, blood, brain matter, and ***. Howling the extolments of Persica and 16Lab making t-dolls so true to natural humans. Furiously pumping like a stallion driven mad by mares in heat, M200’s yet warm body giggling with every thrust. Removing a glove and slipping a hand up M200’s shirt I toyed with her ****, those small yet immensely pleasing bumps of fatty flesh with little buttons I could press. Looking long into her limp expressionless face. Funny to me the (eye) hadn’t changed, still carrying that dull sheen coldly gazing off into nothingness. Grunting with every thrust and my balaclava soaked in drool I felt the threshold rapidly approaching, the pressure growing most great stretching the seams of my mind to almost failing, as pleasure overwhelming racked my body and very soul. Like a boiling pot about to bubble over, a cork rapidly creeping forward mere millimetres at a time. My jaw clenched tightly as through trying to break teeth and a rush of air flowed in-between followed by a prolonged exclamation as I shot like a Jupiter Cannon. Continuing to push hard and deep grinding at the base against M200’s tender mound as I sprayed what felt like cups worth of warm drilling fluid filling that love tunnel full to point of splooshing out around my ramrod.

Having continued to push the attack until deflating completely limp to savor every last ounce of mind numbing pleasure I removed myself from M200 and fell back outside of the stall to untainted floors. Looking down I saw no point in washing up, a spot running from belt line all the way to the knees was evident as if I’d had an accident, the woodland bdu pants hid the crimson colour of blood well but the tan inside was dull red shimmering like wet maroon paint. Everything was stained with M200’s gore, gloves, pants, boots, blouse, nothing was spared.... With a deep inhale and a steadying of heart rate I approached M200’s corpse, reaching in through the shattered gap I pulled out a small unit miraculously still intact. The memories would have to be scrubbed but... I paused a moment... It’d be a shame to throw away such a good and *favorable* T-doll especially since the others would quickly notice the absence. Stowing away the bank in a pocket I lifted M200 and tossed her over my shoulder, turning on the shower and moving it about allowing the cold water to wash away all the spatter. Frowning as bits of bone and larger clumps of fatty substance got caught on the drain I haphazardly waffle stomped what would go through with a boot tip. Looking back at the wall where the slug exited and shattered the tile I shrugged, I’d return to collect up the armor but the wall was maintenances’ problem. After all... I was never here... removing the blocking barrier and striding off into the dark concluding that wild night of blue on blue.