Chapter1
Nineteen-year-old Sato Misaki swiped through her phone screen. As a popular beauty influencer with 100,000 followers, she lay sprawled on her pink bedsheets, her pale legs dangling idly.

"Abandoned railway—perfect for photos..." She suddenly froze, staring at a photo of a girl in a school skirt sitting on rusted train tracks. The girl's legs stretched straight ahead, the skirt barely covering her thighs, the scene framed beautifully by wildflowers and corroded metal. The location tag showed it was just 1 hours from Tokyo.

"This is it." Misaki sprang up, her short black hair bouncing. She quickly stripped off her loungewear and pulled out a sailor-style uniform dress, its hem so short it barely hid her ass. From her drawer, she grabbed a fresh pair of sheer black pantyhose and slid them on.

Before leaving, she turned in front of the hallway mirror. The reflection showed a slender waist and long legs, the pantyhose hugging her curves perfectly. Satisfied, she grabbed her camera bag and snapped a quick selfie.

Chapter2
The computer screen in the study glowed blue, the cursor frozen on a news website's homepage. The owner of the room seemed to have left in a hurry, not even bothering to turn off the power. 

An automated tabloid livestream cycled on the screen. The anchor's robotic voice echoed in the empty room: "Now breaking news..."

The feed cut to grainy surveillance footage—a girl in a school uniform posing on train tracks, one leg raised high for a selfie. The next second, a train roared past, and the video cut abruptly. 

"At 3:17 PM today, a railway accident occurred in Sakura City, Chiba Prefecture," the anchor recited monotonously. "A 19-year-old female trespassed onto an active train line for photography, resulting in..."

The screen changed to on-site photos—shattered camera parts, a single black dress shoe, blood-soaked white fabric. Most striking was a severed limb still encased in black pantyhose, the toes pointed taut as if frozen mid-motion. 

"The victim is currently receiving intensive care at the University of Tokyo Hospital." The anchor paused briefly before clicking to the next slide. "Due to graphic content, the following images are censored."

Behind thick pixelation, the hospital bed revealed a naked, mutilated body. Most of her limbs were gone, stumps wrapped in bloody seeping bandages. The worst was between her legs—two transparent tubes protruded from thick gauze, one dripping dark red fluid.

Chapter3

Sato Misaki jolted awake from her nightmare. 

In the dream, she was strapped to an operating table, her limbs already gone—only smooth, amputated stumps remained. Doctors surrounded her, prodding her defenseless body with cold instruments, especially between her legs—where she was spread open, examined, violated. All she could do was whimper weakly. 

She opened her eyes sharply—only to find reality far worse than the nightmare. 

Searing pain radiated from the stumps of her limbs, like thousands of needles stabbing her nerves. She tried to lift her arms, to confirm if her body was still there—but below her shoulders, there was only emptiness. Her arms were reduced to short, tightly bandaged stumps, dark red stains seeping through the gauze. Frantically, she twisted her neck, trying to see the legs she had once been so proud of—but as her gaze lowered, all she saw was the flat, empty bedsheet covering the space where her lower half should have been. 

Her legs—gone from mid-thigh down. 

The bandages wrapped tightly around the stumps, digging into her soft flesh, the raw wounds throbbing with every heartbeat. Her once-slender legs, delicate ankles, the feet her fans had adored—all that remained were mutilated remnants. Her body trembled uncontrollably, each sob tugging at her wounds, making fresh blood seep through the bandages. 

"Ugh... why... why is this happening...?"

Her throat was dry, her voice barely a whisper. 

Just then, the hospital room door opened. A masked male doctor walked in, followed by two nurses. He flipped through her chart, tone detached. 

Tears streamed down Misaki’s face. She wanted to scream, to demand answers—but she was too weak even for rage. All she could manage was a shaking whisper: 

The doctor nodded, clinical. 

Misaki almost laughed—but there was only despair in her voice. 

"Yes," the doctor continued. "Though we couldn’t save your arms or legs, your pelvis and spine were undamaged. You’ll still be able to use a wheelchair."

Her lips trembled. She couldn’t imagine it—a limbless cripple, a human stump pushed around like luggage. 

But then the doctor shattered her further. 

"However, your lower-body injuries are more complex." He turned a page in her chart, voice chillingly calm. "When the train struck you, wooden debris penetrated your vaginal and urethral canals, causing severe lacerations and infection. We had to perform reconstructive surgery."

Misaki’s mind went blank. 

Her... down there... too? 

The doctor ignored her shock. 

Only then did Misaki notice the slight bulge beneath the thin sheet covering her lower half. She shuddered. 

The nurses pulled back the sheet. 

Misaki finally saw the full extent of her ruin. 

Her leg stumps were tightly wrapped—but between them, where her most intimate area should have been, two thick transparent tubes now jutted out obscenely. One was buried deep in her urethra; the other stretched her freshly reconstructed vaginal cavity, both leading to drainage bags at the bedside, filled with murky red fluid. 

She stopped breathing. 

"The tubes must remain for approximately two months to ensure proper healing," the doctor explained. "Additionally, to prevent internal adhesions, we’ll perform daily dilation therapy."

Misaki’s pupils shrank. 

A nurse stepped forward, lifting a thick latex dilator from a tray. 

Misaki’s tears overflowed. She thrashed weakly. 

But the nurse had already pulled the sheet aside, gently parting her leg stumps to expose her defenseless sex. The cold, ridged surface of the dilator pressed against her raw, stitched entrance. 

Her screams meant nothing. 

As the device pushed inward, Misaki howled in agony. Her body convulsed, but she couldn’t even struggle—she had no limbs left to resist. 

She was just a doll now. 

The nurse worked methodically, twisting the dilator deeper, stretching every inch of her torn, stitched passage until it was fully seated inside her. Pain, humiliation, despair—it all melted into silent tears streaking her pale cheeks. 

The nurse rotated the device, ensuring it spread her fragile, wounded flesh completely. Misaki’s breath hitched—she could even feel the faint trickle of urine seeping through her catheter, mocking her helplessness. 

When the dilator finally locked into place, her inner walls were raw and swollen, fresh blood mixing with slick discharge. The nurse secured it inside her and inserted a secondary tube through its hollow core—white and red fluids immediately began draining out. 

Then came the urethral flush—another tube forced into her sensitive urethra, pumping cold fluid through her ruined body. 

"That’s all for today," the doctor said, closing her chart. "We’ll replace the dilator next week."

Then they left. 

Misaki was alone. 

She stared at the ceiling, tears long since dried up. 

The body she had once flaunted—now just a broken husk. No limbs, no freedom, not even her most private parts spared. Just a medical plaything, a collection of wounds to be probed and stretched and drained. 

Her future held only pain and degradation. 

And the most terrifying part----

She couldn’t even kill herself.

Chapter4

Click.  
Just as Misaki drowned in endless despair and self-loathing, the hospital door swung open.  
Misaki looked up in terror. Through tear-blurred vision, she saw a nurse pushing a medical cart.  

"Good morning, Ms. Sato." The nurse’s tone was flat, as if ignoring her flushed cheeks and soaked sheets. 
"We have a surprise for you today."  

A “surprise”?  

Misaki’s pupils shrank. Ice shot down her spine. Since losing her limbs, "surprise" from medical staff only meant fresh torment.  

The nurse pulled back the sheet, expertly parting her leg stumps. Misaki’s bandaged thighs—oozing pink at the edges—were exposed to the cold air, along with her unprepared cunt: the dilator still buried inside her, cloudy fluid dripping from its tubes.  
"Seems we need to clean you up before the big reveal." The nurse gripped the dilator’s base.  

"D-Don’t pull it—!"* Misaki thrashed her head wildly. Useless.  

Schlorp— 

The dilator ripped free, dragging ropes of mucus and blood with it. Misaki screamed. Her leg stumps convulsed. Her cunt clenched violently, gushing warm fluid.  
The nurse frowned, wiping her sticky thighs with cold antiseptic cotton.Then she lifted Misaki’s broken body like butchered meat—her stumps dangling—and repositioned her on the bed.  

"Now... time for your surprise!"

The nurse returned, wheeling in the so-called "gift."  
When Misaki saw it, her breath died.  

A custom wheelchair-bed.  

No—not a wheelchair. A hybrid of an infant’s crib and mobility device. The seat was cushioned... but at its center stood a thick latex rod. Wires coiled around its shaft, and a cold metal disc glinted at the tip.  

"Since you can’t use your limbs," the nurse explained, "the hospital designed this ‘internal-control wheelchair.’ The joystick is built into your seat. You steer it by clenching your... well... vagina."  

Misaki’s lips trembled. A strangled whimper escaped her throat.  

*"No... please... spare me—"*  

Ignoring her, the nurse lifted her hips and lowered her onto the cushion. Inch by inch, her body was pushed toward the latex rod. Its tip pressed against her swollen entrance. Cold lube dripped down her labia.   

"Relax. Or you’ll tear."

Squelch—!!!!!!

The thick rod pried open her defenseless pussy, brutally stretching her oversensitive passage. Misaki shrieked, her leg stumps kicking wildly—futilely.  

The shaft sank deeper. The metal disc touched her hypersensitive clit—  

Bzzzt!!!!

A weak electric current shot through her.  

"GYAAAAH—!" Her spine arched violently, tears gushing.  

"Tactile feedback system," the nurse said calmly. "Clench once to move forward—the chair vibrates. Need to turn? A pulse tells you which direction."

The control panel lit up. The nurse pressed Misaki’s body down until her broken form sank into the cushion—the rod buried deep inside her, Only the catherter remained visible.  

“Try?" The nurse hit the power button.  

Vvvvrrrm—

The chair shuddered. The rod pistoned inside her, grinding her raw walls. Electric pulses zapped her G-spot. Misaki’s eyes glazed over. Broken moans leaked from her throat.  

"N-No... stop... ahhh...!"

But her body betrayed her again.  

With every vibration, her inner walls clenched the rod on instinct. Thick fluid oozed down the tubes. On the control screen, lights flashed with each involuntary contraction—each spasm sending the chair lurching wildly, triggering more vibrations, more shocks.  

She realized, with suffocating despair—  

Even her last shred of dignity was gone.  

Now, she was just a doll.  

A limbless sex toy.  

Steered by her cunt.