Chen had grown tired of the silence in his quiet house. Nights blurred together until he finally ordered a fresh bottle of chloroform online—clear, potent, the kind that could drop a girl like a stone and keep her under as long as he wanted. At 55, lonely and aching, he decided it was time. Young, pretty Chinese women with those delicate features and tight little bodies... they’d be his. He’d snatch them, drug them senseless, make slow, filthy love to their unconscious forms like they were fresh corpses pulled from the water, then leave them alive but ruined. A few snaps on his phone while they were out cold—legs spread, cum glistening on their small pert breasts—and the blackmail would seal their pretty mouths forever.

VICTIM 1
His first victim was 22-year-old Mei, a stunning girl with long silky black hair, almond eyes, and the kind of small pert breasts that sat high and firm on her slim frame, nipples like perfect little rosebuds just begging to be sucked while the rest of her lay dead still. She was walking home alone one warm evening along a quiet path when Chen stepped from the shadows. He clamped the chloroform-soaked rag tight over her mouth and nose from behind, one strong arm pinning her waist. Mei’s eyes flew wide in panic. She thrashed beautifully—legs kicking, hands clawing at his wrist, muffled screams vibrating against the cloth—but the chemical worked fast. Her struggles grew weaker, body softening, eyes rolling back as she slipped into that sweet, limp oblivion. Chen’s cock was already rock-hard against her ass while she twitched her last. “That’s it, pretty one,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Just like a drowning girl going under... limp and mine.”

He bundled her into his car and drove her straight to his house. Inside the bedroom he kept her drugged out for hours, re-soaking the rag whenever her eyelids fluttered. He stripped her slowly, savoring every inch. Mei lay there like a perfect corpse—skin warm but lifeless, small pert breasts rising and falling in shallow breaths that reminded him of a near-drowned beauty he’d love to CPR back to life, mouth-to-mouth, hands kneading those tits until she gasped awake with his cock already buried deep. He spread her legs wide and sank into her tight, unconscious pussy with a groan, fucking her slow and deep, hips slapping against her still thighs. “Fuck, you feel like a dead girl,” he growled, leaning down to suck one pert nipple hard while he thrust. “If you were pregnant and floating in the river, I’d pump your belly full of my seed before I even thought about reviving you.” He came hard inside her, then flipped her over, taking her again from behind, her face pressed into the sheets like a drowned victim face-down in the shallows. Another load, thick and hot, dripping from her pussy while she stayed perfectly out.

He photographed her twice in those compromising positions—first on her back, legs splayed obscenely, his cum leaking down her thighs and pooling on the sheets, small pert breasts marked with hickeys; second on all fours, ass up, head turned to the side with a vacant, unconscious expression, one hand he’d posed between her legs like she’d been touching herself in her sleep. The pictures were perfect blackmail material.
Hours later, when the night was deepest, Chen dressed her with deliberate carelessness—blouse unbuttoned and askew, skirt hiked up around her waist, panties missing entirely—so anyone who found her would see exactly what had happened. He drove her to a secluded park and left her slumped on a wooden bench, unconscious but alive, chest still rising faintly, disheveled clothes leaving nothing to the imagination. She’d wake up sore, confused, and terrified... and the photos would ensure she never spoke a word.

VICTIM 2
A week has passed but Chen’s blood was still humming from Mei’s warm, unconscious body when he set his sights on the next one.

She was 24-year-old Li, a breathtaking young Chinese beauty with porcelain-smooth skin, shoulder-length black hair that framed her delicate face, and those small, pert breasts that sat so high and firm they made his mouth water. She had the kind of slim, youthful figure that reminded him of a pregnant girl just starting to show—tight waist, gentle curves, nipples he imagined hardening even in death. Li worked late shifts tutoring kids and often walked the quiet streets alone late at night.

He struck on a foggy night. Stepping silently behind her, Chen clamped the fresh chloroform rag over her pretty mouth and nose. Li fought harder than Mei—her lithe body bucking, muffled screams turning into desperate gasps, small hands slapping uselessly at his arm as her legs kicked wildly. “Shhh, pretty mine-to-be,” he whispered hotly against her ear, grinding his hardening cock against her ass while she struggled.

Her eyes rolled, body softening... but Chen held the rag too long, too eagerly. The dose was heavy. Li’s struggles suddenly went rigid, then slack in a different way. A low, wet gurgle escaped her as her body convulsed once, twice. When he finally pulled the cloth away, her lips were already turning pale blue, a thin trail of white foam bubbling from the corner of her mouth. Her chest gave one last shallow rise... and then nothing. Li was gone—overdosed, dead, pale and limp.

Heart pounding with dark excitement, Chen carried her lifeless body to his car like a groom carrying his bride. Back in his house, he laid her out on the bed under soft lights. She was perfect now—completely still, skin cooling rapidly, that beautiful pale deathly pallor spreading across her face and chest. A delicate froth of foam still clung to her parted lips, just like foam on a drowned girl’s mouth after she’d been pulled from the water. Her small pert breasts no longer rose with breath; they sat there, firm and lifeless, nipples slightly peaked in the cool air.

He stripped her slowly, reverently, running his hands over every inch of her dead flesh. “Fuck... you’re even better like this,” he groaned, voice thick with necrophiliac lust. He spread her pale legs wide and pushed his throbbing cock into her still-warm, tight pussy. She felt incredible—loose in that perfect dead way, no resistance, just silky cold heat gripping him as he fucked her deep and slow, hips slapping against her motionless thighs. He leaned down and sucked hard on one small pert breast, biting the nipple while he thrust. “If you were carrying my child, I’d keep fucking you even more,” he growled, pounding harder. He flipped her over, taking her from behind, her dead face pressed into the sheets, foam smearing the fabric. Another load, thick and hot, pumped deep into her corpse.
Then came the photographs—his trophies.

He posed her in two brutally compromising positions while she lay pale and dead:
First, on her back, legs splayed obscenely, small pert breasts exposed and marked with his bite marks, thick cum leaking from her dead pussy and mixing with the foam at her lips. Her eyes were shut in death, skin ghostly pale.

Second, on all fours, ass raised high like an offering, head turned to the side with foam dripping from her open mouth, cum running down her pale thighs from her used cunt.

Chen spent hours with her corpse, fucking her twice more—once while performing mock CPR on her dead body, pressing rhythmically on those small pert breasts, breathing into her foamy mouth just to feel the fantasy of reviving his drowned prize, only to keep using her when she stayed perfectly still.

Finally, deep in the night, he dressed her carelessly—blouse unbuttoned and hanging open, skirt twisted and hiked up around her waist, panties gone—so her pale, dead body would be discovered in all its ruined glory. He drove her to a quiet stairwell behind an old building and left her slumped on the cold concrete steps, head lolling, foam still visible at her lips, small pert breasts partially exposed, cum drying on her inner thighs. She looked exactly like a beautiful young woman who had been used, overdosed, and discarded—pale, dead, and forever silent.
No blackmail needed now. Li was his perfect, eternal secret.

VICTIM 3

Chen’s hunger had only grown darker and sharper. After the first two, he craved something riper, heavier—life still flickering inside while the body lay perfectly limp. That’s when he found her: 27-year-old Jia, a radiant pregnant Chinese beauty in her sixth month. Her belly was beautifully swollen and round, skin stretched tight and glowing softly. She had long wavy black hair that fell in silky waves down her back, delicate almond eyes, full lips, and those small pert breasts that pregnancy had made even fuller and heavier, nipples darker and more sensitive beneath her clothes. Her figure was still slim and graceful everywhere else—delicate limbs framing that perfect pregnant swell. She often took gentle evening walks in quiet neighborhoods to ease the ache in her swollen feet.
He struck on a humid, moonless night. Chen moved like a shadow, clamping the chloroform-soaked rag firmly over Jia’s pretty mouth and nose from behind. She gasped sharply, one hand flying instinctively to cradle her rounded belly as if shielding the baby. Her struggles were fierce but clumsy because of the extra weight—body twisting, legs kicking, muffled cries vibrating desperately against the cloth while her free hand scratched at his wrist. “Shhh, pretty mama,” Chen murmured low and thick with lust, grinding his already-hard cock against her ass, one arm wrapped around her swollen belly. “You’re going to be so soft and still for me... just like a drowning pregnant girl slipping under the surface, warm but helpless.”

Jia fought beautifully, her pregnant belly pressing and rubbing against him with every frantic buck, but the chloroform worked its magic. Her movements grew weaker, eyes fluttering, until she went completely limp in his arms—unconscious, breathing in shallow, drugged little gasps, but still very much alive. Chen held the rag a few extra seconds just to savor the way her pregnant body sagged heavily against him, then carried her to his car like a precious, sleeping prize.

Back in his house, he laid her out on the bed under soft, warm lights. Jia looked breathtaking in her deep unconsciousness—skin flushed but peaceful, small pert breasts rising and falling with faint, slow breaths, her round pregnant belly prominent and still. He stripped her slowly, reverently, running his hands over the taut, warm skin of her swollen belly and the heavier curves of her breasts. “Fuck, you feel so alive yet so gone,” he groaned, voice dripping with necrophiliac hunger.

He spread her pale legs wide and sank his throbbing cock deep into her tight, unconscious pussy with a long, satisfied moan. She was warm, silky, and completely unresponsive—just like a near-drowned beauty he’d love to revive with slow CPR while fucking her. He thrust slow and deep, one hand rubbing possessive circles over her motionless pregnant belly while the other squeezed and sucked on her small pert breast, tasting the faint sweetness of early milk. “If you were floating cold in the river, belly full like this, I’d pump these tits and breathe life back into you with my mouth while I kept filling your womb,” he growled, hips slapping steadily against her limp thighs. He came hard inside her, flooding her unconscious body, then gently rolled her onto her side so her pregnant belly rested heavily on the sheets. He took her again from behind, spooning her drugged-out form, cock buried deep while he whispered filthy promises against her ear.

Chen photographed her in two beautifully compromising positions while she stayed completely out:
First, on her back, legs splayed obscenely, round pregnant belly fully displayed, small pert breasts exposed and glistening with his saliva and faint milk, thick cum leaking slowly from her pussy and dripping down her inner thighs, peaceful vacant expression on her unconscious face.

Second, on her side with one leg lifted high, pregnant belly prominent and heavy, small pert breasts hanging slightly, head turned with eyes closed in deep unconsciousness, cum running down her thigh, one hand he posed resting on her swollen belly as if protecting it even in sleep.

He kept her drugged for hours, re-soaking the rag whenever her eyelids fluttered, fucking her two more times—once while performing slow, mock CPR on her unconscious body: pressing rhythmically on her full small pert breasts, locking his mouth over hers in deep breaths, feeling her chest rise under his hands while his cock stayed sheathed inside her warm, limp cunt. The fantasy of reviving his pregnant “drowned” prize made him cum again almost immediately.

Finally, deep in the night, Chen dressed her with deliberate, sluttish carelessness—maternity blouse unbuttoned and pushed wide open to expose her swollen small pert breasts and round pregnant belly, skirt hiked up and twisted around her waist, panties gone—so anyone who found her would see exactly how she’d been used. He drove her to a secluded stairwell and left her slumped against the cold concrete wall on the steps, head lolling to the side, chest still rising faintly, pregnant belly exposed, legs slightly parted with dried cum glistening on her inner thighs. She looked like a beautiful pregnant woman who had been chloroformed, thoroughly fucked while unconscious, and abandoned—warm, alive, but ruined and ready for blackmail with the photos he now owned.