Agnes Doll From Despicable Me Novels & Stories

Every head in the room snapped toward it. My chest seized. The stench of age and earth spilled out, wrapping the room in something heavy. Inside lay Agnes’ real body, perfectly preserved, her skin pale as moonlight, lips faintly tinted like she was only asleep. A smile curved across the Agnes standing before us. “I did that,” she whispered, pride flickering across her face. I found myself moving closer, each step reluctant, like I was drawn by something I didn’t want to face. My eyes roamed over her original body.

It was Agnes, her message brief and efficient as always. **Agnes:** *On my way to the office. Let’s go over the game plan one more time before the meeting.* Anderson typed a quick response, setting his phone aside as he leaned back in his chair. He appreciated Agnes’s thoroughness—her attention to detail had been a crucial asset in preparing for this deal. But something about her intensity, her relentless drive, left him feeling slightly off-balance. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was a nagging sense that Agnes was holding something back, something he couldn’t see.

He looks disgusted, which made the tiny fume of hatred she ease before to resurface as they came in a tidal wave. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Her face-hardened. “Well, fuck you too.” She snarled at him before turning on her heels, clenching her teeth as they gnawed and make sound. Agnes grab a discarded shirt, which is too large for her frame [this may have belong to the latter, as she was brought there on her dress, tattered, and destroyed as they seems to be in a rush, thirsty sex]. Agnes came trotting outside, no shame on her face as the cold air hit her down on her exposed legs. It was that pure loathsome look, which took over dominion. The softness of her feature has been replaced.

I actually tried hard not to think about that, but failed, miserably. Agnes was a high-paid call girl who had if not a heart of gold, at the very least hair of gold. She was just the right amount of sexy for this operation. She had a sort of girl-next-door thing going on that really helped her out in her second job, the porn industry. I didn't judge. Hell, I was about to steal back a ton of drugs from criminals. At least porn was legal.

I swear, even my blood was holding its breath. I locked the screen and set the phone face-down on the kitchen counter like it was a bomb I didn’t know how to defuse. “Girl, what’s got your face doing that haunted Victorian orphan thing again?” I spun around. Agnes. In all her chaotic midnight glory. Oversized Bon Jovi T-shirt. Fuzzy pink socks. Under-eye patches that glittered like disappointment and debt. I blinked rapidly. “Nothing. Just… indigestion.” Agnes didn’t buy it. Not for a second.

A wave separated from the pier and, covering Chaos’ body, froze his limbs, surrounded him with a dense water ball and lifted him into the air. “Do as you're told, and maybe I'll help you find out who killed your brothers,” Agnes croaked, holding a clawed hand clenched above her. The rejuvenated fingers were silvered with scales. The wrinkles on her face smoothed out, returning her to her former cold beauty. Black curls fell over her shoulders, glam up her nondescript dress with its luxury.

His large ones were still wrapped around mine. “Perfect.” Agnes grinned and clapped her hands. “Money, please.” ‘Greedy woman.’ My lips formed a scowl, and I pulled out some bundles of cash from my bag. “Here.” I dropped them on the table, and she snatched them. “Wonderful. I’ll go get them now.” She giggled, opening her drawer and put the cash inside. She jumped to her feet and went to one of her tall shelves. She pulled out a medium-sized trunk covered in dust and walked back to the table.

he said to Agnes. Agnes didn’t say anything, just stood and pulled something out of her backpack. To my chagrin, I saw that it was a box of gloves. She slipped one over her hand and came to stand beside me. I pulled at my shackles, looking at her in horror. “This won’t hurt,” she said, sitting down and reaching for my legs. “No,” I moaned, trying to scoot over. A pain gripped me, and I cried out, tensing. Agnes took advantage of my discomfort and gripped one of my thighs tightly and slid the other hand in me, poking and prodding.

"I promise to make this as brief as possible, you don't need more stress...” "You and consideration. Dear, I love trouble, I thrive on it. Scorpio Villa can't be any bubbly without it, so I should be thanking you for this chaos you're cooking up. I smell the violence and I’m intoxicated. Keep blowing the fire, we want more.” She smiles after a long speech. My orbs are wide like I’m in a trance or experiencing hallucinations. Agnes’s age and looks are the perfect deceit. I would never have fucking guessed she's a bitch. The hell! And a badass one as an extra.

One by one, she grabs the pieces from everyone like a wild animla who is protecting its child from the predators and begins to deposit it into the chest. “I said enough!” Agnes says, grabbing Yeri and throwing her to the ground like a piece of paper. Like I said, Agnes is a scary wolf even if she is a middle-aged woman…she is a gamma of the dragon blood heritage after all. Agnes looks up at me on the balcony and I exhale. “Upstairs, both of them…” I say, walking back into the room.