“When you gave us this assignment and said our exhibition could be anything we came up with, it actually kind of overwhelmed us.” 

20-year-old Kenzie was standing outside the gallery that housed the group project she and two partners created for their experimental art class. The purple-haired student stood wearing a black tank top and jean shorts on her thin body, and her professor couldn’t help but notice details that weren’t typically visible under her studio attire. She had a sleeve of tattoos going down her right arm, and, judging by the little protrusions they made under her top, pierced nipples. He tried to focus on her words, and not her body. 

“But when I heard about your breakup, it actually gave us some inspiration for our subject matter.” 

“I don’t see what my personal life has to do…” Professor Jacob Beecham said meekly. He had actually not thought much today about the recent end of his seven-year relationship. It was the day when group projects were being displayed, and he had been neatly distracted by the importance of his task in assessing them. This was their freestyle project, an opportunity to really display their creativity while working in a group, and he always enjoyed seeing what his students produced. 

“Well it got us thinking about relationships, and the sort of archetypal model that you see presented in the media and everywhere else. Two happy smiling people living under one roof. That model can be limiting and a lot of people will find that their experiences don’t neatly match with it, which can often be disappointing.”

Professor Beecham was relieved by this response, and considered the directions a project based on those ideas may have taken. But he cringed somewhat when she added that her team had considered ways to cheer him up. 

“This really shouldn’t be about me, you know,” he reminded her. But Kenzie encouraged him to have an open mind about the project, which she titled “Dollhouse.” She opened the door and invited him to step inside.

The interior of the room had been decorated to resemble a life-sized dollhouse. Full furniture had a plastic, toy-like sheen to their surfaces. Tea cups sat on the table, and miniature versions of the objects in the room were scattered about. In the center stood Kenzie’s two partners, motionless. In contrast to Kenzie’s alternative look, Bailey and Brooklyn were a pair of blue-eyed blondes. This, in combination with clever choices in makeup and Barbie-pink frilly dresses, succeeded in giving them doll-like appearances. 

Professor Beecham looked around the room and found himself rather moved by the effect of the illusion his students had created. In 15 years as a professor, he had seen a lot of repeated and recycled ideas, but he couldn’t recall a parallel for this one. He quietly examined their work in detail before offering a comment.

“I must say, I think you girls have done a wonderful job here,” he said. Kenzie smiled, but her partners remained perfectly still. “This…it speaks to so much: the idealization of certain attributes, the quest for an impossible to reach ‘perfect life,’ and the objectification of women is obviously a theme being explored as well.” 

“You should know, it’s interactive,” Kenzie informed him, which prompted a quizzical look on her professor’s face. She gestured towards the blondes. “You can play with them and pose them and they’ll just let you.”

“Oh, of course,” he responded, almost disregarding it at the same moment. The idea was clear enough; he didn’t think he had to test out the offer. Kenzie suspected that he wasn’t getting the point. 

“Let me show you,” she said, and moved towards Brooklyn, the taller of two “dolls.” Kenzie pushed her classmate, bending Brooklyn forward at the waist. Her skirt hiked up in this process, revealing to their professor that there were no panties underneath. Professor Beecham stared in shock at his student’s bare pussy for a couple full seconds before his brain again kicked in and he averted his eyes. 

“That’s…really…” he stammered. “I don’t think that’s necessary, I quite get the picture, I really do.” 

“It’s not about a picture,” Kenzie said, taking Professor Beecham by the wrist. She guided his hand to Brooklyn’s exposed pussy. “It’s about a feeling.”

“Jesus…” he said, and his fingers lingered in the blonde’s wetness even after Kenzie loosened her grip. Brooklyn suppressed any major reaction to his touch. But the reality of what the girls were getting at still hadn’t fully registered for him. The purple-haired guide tried to spell it out, with a suggestive whisper in his ear.

“Don’t you wanna play with your fuck dolls?”

Professor Beecham looked at Kenzie and could tell she meant every word of it. He turned towards the blondes, and it was as if seeing them through new eyes. Two of his prettiest students, Brooklyn and Bailey, were pretty-in-pink princesses for his personal pleasure. He felt his cock harden. It was wrong, he knew, to have sex with one’s students. But wasn’t it also wrong to not fully explore a project they had worked so hard on? With this flimsy rationalization, he convinced himself to fully take part. 

He eyed over his dolls. Bailey was the bustier of the two, a fact that her dress didn’t try to suppress. He gently squeezed at her breast through the fabric, and watched her closely for a reaction. Both girls had been well-trained to make their responses as minimal as possible, to maintain the artistic statement. Their professor pulled down the top of Bailey’s dress to properly admire her magnificent chest. Her tits were certainly better, perkier and firmer than his ex’s, he thought. He put his mouth around her nipple, which provoked a noticeable shift in Bailey’s breathing. 

Now he began having fun. Professor Beecham maneuvered his new toys to his liking, until their breasts were next to each other. He took his time with hands-on comparison of their sizes and shapes. He felt it would only be in keeping with the project’s theme to talk about them as though they couldn’t hear him. 

“This one’s chest is smaller, but I believe it’s no less good an example of just how marvelous college tits can be.” 

To this comment, Brooklyn stifled a smile. The chance to be well and truly objectified had excited her about this project, and that it was her middle-aged professor excited her even more. Pushing boundaries and taboos was something she strived for in her art. His experienced mouth felt great on her tits, too, though she tried not to let it show.

With a hand on each of their shoulders, Professor Beecham guided the girls down to their knees. They didn’t offer a reaction when he unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick, hard cock, but each of them secretly loved what they saw. Bailey and Brooklyn allowed their teacher to pinch their cheeks and lower their jaws, until each of them sat dumbly with mouths hanging open. 

“Now which of these oral toys should I use first?” He asked aloud. Kenzie was delighted to see him enjoying their exhibition. She watched with some jealousy as he batted his dick against the dolls’ faces. Bailey and Brooklyn were perfect for this role, but Kenzie’s pussy was wet wishing that she was on her knees instead. 

The professor made his choice. Holding Bailey by her blonde hair, he guided his cock past her lips. Her mouth gave no resistance as he slid his shaft inside; her eyes remained fixed forward as his crotch grew nearer. Bailey’s ability to maintain the act impressed him, and by now Professor Beecham was viewing her less as a student and more as an object. He would never have fucked a student’s face, for example. But an object?  

He didn’t hesitate before shoving his dick down Bailey’s throat, which triggered her gag reflex and the first bit of struggle. Bailey clenched her fists, trying not to betray her role as a doll even as her body rebelled. This resistance did not slow the middle-aged man who was deeply enjoying the feeling of a college-aged mouth on his cock. Professor Beecham held her head in place and gave a few forceful thrusts into her oral fuckhole.

“What a lifelike toy! You girls did such a good job on these dolls, but I hope the other one is better at taking my cock.” 

Professor Beecham pulled himself out of Bailey’s throat and ignored the way she coughed and sucked in air. His focus shifted to Brooklyn. He went straight to testing her throat, and didn't find any gag reflex before his balls were pressed against her chin.

“Oh, now this is a good fuckdoll!”

The professor gleefully treated her throat like a fleshlight. His rough thrusts forced drool up from her throat, but Brooklyn maintained her performance well. Kenzie watched on with pride, and pressed her thighs together. She felt confident that they'd be getting an A, but her arousal felt more important at this point.

Professor Beecham played with his toys in new ways. Thrusting his saliva-slicked shaft through Bailey’s cleavage. Lining the dolls up so he could dip his dick in one mouth, then the other. Making them face each other in order to feel both their lips on his cock at the same time. Last, but definitely not least, bending the blondes over the dollhouse bed to dick down their pristine pussies.

He looked down at the scene in front of him. Two equally enticing holes presented themselves for him to use. Bailey and Brooklyn were face down in the bed, and it was almost hard to tell them apart from his vantage point. They were objects. Objects with two of the tightest cunts he had ever felt. He took turns using each of them, trying to decide which pussy felt better on his dick, before reaching the conclusion that they were both just perfect. And an idea occurred to him.

“Help me out here, Kenzie,” he said, and between the two of them, they moved Brooklyn's body directly atop Bailey's, so that Professor Beecham could better fuck the both of them. Arranged like this, he alternated driving his dick deep into each doll. He wished he could have continued using them all day, but the sights and sensations became overwhelming.

The professor buried his shaft fully into the warm cocksleeve of Brooklyn's cunt, and he came. He came harder than he had in years, harder than he ever had with his ex. Filling a 20-year-old fuckdoll with his load was an indescribable ecstasy for him. He never wanted to pull out, but when he finally did, a bit of his seed leaked out of Brooklyn and dripped down onto Bailey. As far as their professor was concerned, this was the perfect finishing touch on a true work of art.