Marnie awoke when water seeped into the corner of her mouth, filling it with salt water. her eyes jerked open as she spat, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her elbows sinking into sand. She realized that there was earth beneath her, and dragged herself to her knees, taking stock of her surroundings. To her left and right, the beach stretched, lazily angling away from her in the distance. Ahead of her, she saw a high bluff, insurmountable, but a more gentle green hill was visible to the west. She couldn’t quite see, but it appeared to be cut, with a fence separating it from the beach. Marnie weakly rose to her feet, adjusting the swimsuit as best she could as she began her trek towards what, she hoped, must be civilization.
By the time she reached the slope of the hill, it was clear that someone was tending the land, as the fence she had imagined she saw turned out to be very real, wooden poles that rose only to chest high, with utilitarian beams between the poles. She supposed cows or sheep might be daunted by the fence, but anything larger would easily escape. As Marnie reached the fence, she saw that the hills gave way to a large field, trees littered about the lush green grass. It looked like a painting to Marnie, one of those early American paintings that were always on the covers of literature book in the college bookstore.
Marnie slipped through the fence, enjoying the spring of the grass under her feet and between her toes. Despite the horror of the day’s events, the pastoral setting and the combination of sea air and the fragrance of the field soothed her. She found herself reaching out to low-hanging trees, feeling the caress of the leaves on her fingertips. She paused, leaning against a tree, catching her breath and trying to push the images of the boat’s wreckage on the surface of the water. something distantly jingled, the high, tinny sound of a distant bell or bells. It reminded Marnie a bit of sleigh bells, the irony of that not lost on her as she started across the verdant land.
She sped the house first, a manor in the old Spanish style that California mimicked, but never duplicated. This was the real thing, sun-washed stucco walls, three floors, offset as they climb the high hill the manor on which the manor sat. A recessed balcony on the top floor pressed against glass doors. Marnie thought she saw someone on the balcony, but the sun reflected from the doors into her eyes, bring her forearm up to shield herself from the glare. When she lowered her arm, it was then she saw the girl.
She was possibly in her twenties, or maybe thirties, it was hard to tell, as the girl’s age was inconsequential compared to her dress. Her hair was a dirty blonde, pulled back in a tight braid, her head adorned with a pair of buckled straps that forced a cylinder between her teeth. A bit, Marnie realized, in wonder and shock. Taking into account the rest of her outfit, the leather buckled below and between her heavy breasts, the strap that ran from those buckles between her legs and up her back, the artificial hooves that covered her hands, the long boots that ended in similarly fashioned artificial hooves, which forced the girl’s back into an odd curve, thrusting her chest forward, displaying the pierced nipples, a delicate silver chain running between them.
Marnie watched as the girl moved with a lay grace just out of sight, hidden by a thick cluster of trees. As Marnie moved down the edge of the field, towards a well-worn path which led up again toward the house, she hugged the base of a tree, twisting to follow the girl with her eyes. When she saw the girl step, back arched, knees raising high with each step, towards a small clearing where a half dozen other girls stood, all dressed, bound, in the same fashion, Marnie released an audible gasp. The pony-girls all stood at attention, heads turning in unison to the tree behind which Marnie stood, her face peeking around the trunk. When one ran, they all did, rushing in a strange, yet graceful lope towards a barn resting in a corner of the fenced field.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” a husky, lyrical voice said behind her.
Marnie turned, her back against the tree, as a woman approached from the direction of the house. She wore dark sandals and a dark, loosely-fitting dress that was belted at the waist with a silver band. Her skin was deeply tanned, and her high-boned face was framed by long black hair that tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She was enchantingly beautiful, and the gentle smile that tugged at the corners of her full lips was instantly reassuring. When she spoke it was with a delicate Spanish accent that flavored her speech charmingly.
“Please, don’t be alarmed. I am Solita. You are from the boat?” At the word ‘boat’, her eyes and lips both fell into a look of sadness. “You must be… please, come with me. You must be terrified. Is there others?”
“N-no,” Marnie stammered, “No one else.”
“You poor girl!” Solita reached to Marnie and took her by the hand, draping a protective arm over her shoulder and ushering her up the path, towards the house. Marnie, at the soft touch, felt the day’s events crash upon her once more, and she cried all the way up the path.

When her eyes fluttered open, Marnie tried to acclimate herself, a voice scolding her for falling asleep in this strange house. Still, the bed she sat upon was soft, and the breeze blowing through the curtains, carrying the evening with it, comforted her. She realized that her swimsuit had been replaced by a cotton dress, a deep red, and her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She stood, crossing to the window, where Marnie could see almost half the island she had stumbled upon, and she imagined that a view from the balcony she had seen would offer a look at the other side. She found her hand at her mouth again when she saw the pony-girls in the field by the barn, some nuzzling against one another, one bending at the waist to eat from a trough screwed to the side of the barn. The pony-girls’ hands rested at the top of their breasts as they stood, like vestigial limbs that would eventually wither away in successive generations.
“You must think you’ve stumbled into something horrible,” Solita said behind her, surprising Marnie. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you they want to be that way?”
“Who would ever want that?”
“You would be surprised, I think. Is your dress all right? Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Dinner is almost ready, if you are hungry. If you’d rather take your food in this room, I understand. You must have been through so much today.” Solita moved to Marnie, but kept a respectful distance, leaning against the other side of the window, looking out on the field. “They are lovely. That may shock you to hear, but I believe they are beautiful creatures, and very happy. Tomorrow, you can go see them if you like. Close, I mean.”
“No! I’m sorry, no, thank you.”
“As you like. Would you like to join us downstairs for dinner?”
“Us?”
“My family and I.”
“Do you have a phone?”
“You have no idea where you are, do you, Marnie?”
“No.”
Solita smiled. “There are no phones here, no boats. This is a refuge for those who find that they need to live their lives a different way. They can do that here. We are intentionally secluded. We have an agreement with the mainland that we will appear on no map, no chart, other than those that warn of a barren island. The next time there is passage from this island is when a new girl arrives to live her dream. Now do you understand?”
Marnie looked at the dark-haired woman, mouth agape. “I’m trapped here?”
“Now that’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? But you will stay with us for the foreseeable future. Make yourself at home, Marnie.” And, with that, Solita turned and left, closing the door behind her, leaving Marnie to stare out the window, over the field.

The steps were heavy and regular as they approached the door, followed by a muffled knock. Marnie had been sleeping again, only dark on the other side of the curtains now.
“Solita?”
No response, save another knock. Marnie gathered the red dress beneath her as she rolled from the soft bed onto the floor, crossing and leaning her head against the wooden frame.
“Solita?” she offered again.
Only silence.
Marnie opened the door, and immediately took a step backwards into the room, reeling from this new surprise. Standing before her was someone completely covered by latex. The shape suggested a woman, but there was no skin visible, no features to be certain of the gender. The feet and legs were covered by glossy, staggeringly high heels blending seamlessly into latex stockings, leading up to a black and white latex skirt, the white bit like plastic lace, blossoming out from her hips. A white latex apron was tied behind her (Marnie assumed), the waist it circled almost inhumanly tiny, then widening, all covered by very tight, black latex. The breasts were either freakishly large naturally, or had been augmented, but they were flesh, Marnie realized now, as the flesh held within shaped with the latex as the maid stepped into the room and bent to set down a tray. She raised again, hands coated in some tight-fitting mitten which defined only the thumb, then a mass which hid the individual fingers. The face was covered by a hood, the eyes peeking out vacant, staring ahead. Atop the latex-coated head, a small white bonnet had been secured.
“Thank you,” Marnie said, keeping a safe distance from the glossy maid.
The maid gave a small bow, turned on the high heels and exited with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Marnie’s hunger didn’t allow her to linger on the sight of the departing maid for long before she lifted the lid on the covered tray and ate the sandwich and salad provided,

The following morning, Marnie didn’t wait for the maid to appear, instead waking with the sun and arranging herself as best she could before venturing out of the room. The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was the smell of food cooking somewhere, and her mind leapt to the image of several similarly-dressed maids fussing about a kitchen, only perhaps these were dressed all in white with tall hats. She almost giggled at the notion before realizing that it could be entirely true.
At that moment, the panic seized her. Marnie slumped against the wall of the corridor, wrapping her arms around herself, an ocean of hopelessness washing over her. How could she escape from this place? If Solita was correct, there was no guarantee of rescue any tie in the foreseeable future, and she had no idea how the sunken ship could be found. And, if someone was looking for the ship and found it, why would they assume there were survivors?
She found her footing, again, unable to shake the new tension that had overtaken her, following the smell of food to a small flight of stairs, recesses built into either side of a wide landing. Within the recesses, statues stood, or what would appear to be statues at first pass. When Marnie passed them, she paused, realizing the pale, stone-like coloring was paint, and that two naked, unmoving women stood on either side of her, their eyes pointed to some unwavering point on the horizon, not registering her presence at all.
“Marnie!” Solita called happily, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. The dark dress from yesterday had been replaced by a white one, this one brief and flirty, a dress which would have been fashionable on a street in New York, as would the gold stilettos she wore. “I am so glad you’ve come down from your room. I hope you slept well?”
Marnie nodded, distracted by the human statuary.
“You must be starving. Come along!”
Marnie looked down at Solita’s outstretched hand, disoriented by the surrealism of the household, moving down the steps and taking the beauty’s hand.
Solita ushered Marnie into a breakfast room where French doors opened onto a small patio. beyond that was another field, the fence around it measuring a wider patch of land than the horse field had. Marnie was led to a table on the patio, sat down, and found renewed shock as she looked onto this new spectacle. In the field, Marnie saw large-breasted women of mostly middle age, nude save for collars around their necks and the large bells attached to them, crawling on all fours. Some of them had been painted white and black to more clearly mirror the cows they so clearly represented. To a one, they showed an expression of dumb contentment as they chewed on what must have been grass, one occasionally lowing softly, the breeze floating their moos over the field.
Behind her, Marnie felt Solita draw her hair into a ponytail, pulling the dark hair out of Marnie’s eyes. Marnie absently reached up, touching nothing, a gesture with mere distracted intent.
Solita leaned down, resting her head on Marnie’s shoulder. “Forgive me, but it’s so rare to have one here who can talk back, so I may seem chatty. All the other women on the island… well, they are not so much women anymore, but I love them all.” Solita kissed Marnie’s cheek as she stood upright, crossing to a chair opposite Marnie and sitting with an elegant cross of her legs.
“See? Listen to me chatter away. How are you today, Marnie?”
“Why did you do this to these people?”
“Do what? They all wanted this, Marnie. I am only a caretaker here. I make sure they are fed ,thank goodness the maids tend to enjoy helping there, report back if any of the guests become sick or injured so they may go back to the mainland…”
“How do you report back?”
“When a new guest arrives, as I told you. What’s wrong, Marnie?”
“I’m scared here<” Marnie confessed.
“Oh, why, lovely girl? This is the safest place in the world!”
“It’s just so strange…”
As if on cue, a maid appeared at the patio, taking her short steps on the way to the table. In one gloved hand, she held a tray holding four glasses. The maid paused before the table, carefully placing a glass of water and a glass of milk before each of the women seated there. With a bow, she turned and left. Marnie wondered if this was the same one who had brought her dinner last night.
Solita barely acknowledged the latex-coated servant, instead choosing to focus on Marnie’s observation. “I guess it’s been so long with them, I don’t see them as strange at all. Just my pets and friends. Though none of the talk back.”
“You must be lonely,” Marnie said, her eyes darting back towards the interior of the house, wondering what other surprises awaited her inside as she took a long drink of milk. She coughed.
“What?” Solita asked, leaning forward over the table and placing a hand over Marnie’s.
“The milk is sweet.”
“Oh yes, it is. Delicious, I think.”
“It’s not…?”
“From the cows? Where else would it be from?”
Marnie snatched up the glass of water and rinsed her mouth with it, spitting onto the grass.
Solita laughed. “You don’t want to know what’s in that water, then.”
Marnie gasped, eyes wide with imagined horrors, the glass of water still in her hands.
Solita laughed harder. “It’s just water, I’m kidding. You have to relax, Marnie. Look.” Solita raised the glass of milk to her full lips and drank a long swallow. “See? Delicious. Nothing wrong with it. I drink it every day. Makes the cows happy when they see it, too, I think. We don’t have to have the whole breast-feeding conversation do we?”
“No, I understand it’s not poison or anything, but I’d rather not drink it.”
“Suit yourself. So, I have some chores to attend to, after breakfast, but nothing too strenuous. What would you like to do after that?”
“I just want to go home.”
“Oh, Marnie. We have everything here and no one can hurt you here. I’ve been alone for so long here, Marnie, please don’t be scared. I just want someone to talk to.”
Marnie felt her heart drop at the teary voice, Solita’s round eyes wet and pleading.
“It’s just strange for me,” Marnie said. “I’ll try to be less freaked out, okay?”
“Okay.” Solita grinned across the table at the girl as a pair of maids brought a large breakfast, placing the meals wordlessly before the women.

Two days passed quickly, and Marnie found the surroundings to be a soothing balm over the fresh loss of her parents and all that she knew. If you were going to be stranded, there were worse places. The maids and statuary took some getting used to, and this morning had been the first she had actually drank the milk, but after a pair of days accompanying Solita in her tasks, Marnie felt confident it had no ill effects. Marnie marveled at how quickly the sight of a line of latex-covered maids became normal. Today, Marnie would help Solita feed the horses and cows, then they would have a long dinner, talk until they got sleepy, then start all over.
Marnie admitted that Solita was a very sweet woman, if overly talkative at times. In fact, Marnie felt some sympathy for the woman who had used the opportunity to serve as caretaker on this island to escape an abusive boyfriend. Solita had told her all about it late the night before, and they had hugged and held hands as Solita recounted the darkest moments of her life.
Marnie was startled by the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder into the house as Solita appeared, a wide-brimmed hat covering her eyes, dressed in a practical sundress and sandals.
“I almost overslept.”
“I’m keeping you up at night. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Solita approached Marnie from behind and bent to hug her. “I’ve loved these past two days. Sometimes I don’t think you realize how lonely you are until you have company to remind you.”
Solita released Marnie and took her place across from the thin girl. “I think you’re beginning to get some sun, Marnie.”
Marnie raised her forearm in front of her. “Maybe a little.”
A maid entered, deposited the dual glasses of milk and water, and returned to the house. Marnie drank the sweet milk first, then allowed the crystal water to wash it down.
“You could go swimming later if you wanted. There’s a lagoon.”
“You’ll have to show me.” Marnie smiled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How do the ponies and cows and maids never say a single word? I understand that they want to live this way, but still… Stumping your toe, falling down, something would make you say something.”
Solita straightened in her chair as she assumed teaching mode, as she had done often as they had explored the island. “Well, when the clients come here, they are usually given a training by the company that owns the island, so by the time they land, they’re like that. A few times, I’ve had to help with that once they arrive. Basically, it’s just a series of shots and then you sit in a room where they strip away everything but what you wanted to begin with.”
“That sounds a lot like brainwashing,” Marnie said, a little apprehensively.
“Sort of. But, keep in mind that the women here all pick what they want. They sign a contract saying that they’re of sound mind and all that. After the term of their stay expires, we wake them up the next time a boat comes. Sometimes, they want to go right back to their old lies, some decide to stay, like the statues on the stairs. There are six of them, in all, and they stay perfectly quiet and still until the next arrives to let them sleep. It’s actually very heartwarming to see the changing of the statues, so quiet and beautiful.”
Marnie immediately began eating the toast on her plate as the maids arrived with the food. “I think it sounds a little shady, Solita. What’s the name of the company?”
Solita shrugged and took a bite of her own meal. “They stay mysterious. I had one face to face interview, and the next thing I knew, here I was. I don’t regret it for a second, though it has been lonely sometimes.”
“I’ll keep you company,” Marnie grinned. “At least till the next boat gets here. My aunt and uncle probably think we all went down with the s hip.” Marnie tried to make the words sound light, but they fell heavily between them.
“You could stay here, Marnie. We’d live like queens.”
“Maybe,” Marnie said, breezing past the idea as she thought of the shocked look on the faces of her aunt when she realized that her sister’s child had not been lost, too.
Solita smiled happily, planning their day together silently from her chair.

As the weeks went by, Marnie’s trips to the beach grew more infrequent as the hopes of a ship arriving any given day were fading. She would know when the ship arrived, she realized, and it was better to let time ease the wounds and aches she felt. And she had healed much. The thought of her mother’s smile or father’s stubbly cheeks still twisted something inside her, but it no longer drew tears at the images. She and Solita had settled into something of a routine, waking each morning, meeting at breakfast, talking over the day, then doing the chores that had not been delegated to the maids. In fact, since there were two of them now, Solita had given the maids less to do and Marnie frequently caught the shiny servants milling aimlessly about the manor, cleaning rooms and shelves that had been cleaned that morning.
Marnie enjoyed working with the pony- and cow-girls, who were startlingly kind and happy, if not terrible smart. In particular, a girl with red hair and freckles all over her back and breasts, a ponygirl Marnie thought of as Cherry, had taken a shine to Marnie, and Marnie loved petting her mane, once she became used to the notion that whatever had made her a person once was no longer there.
She was thickening, too. The rich diet that the maids prepared, couple with the cows’ milk had rounded the harder angles on her body, filling her chest out some, too. She would never be a bra-buster, but the diet had given her a jiggle she found pleasant. Solita had commented on it a few days earlier, and Marnie noticed uncomfortably how Solita’s eyes lingered on her more and more. During the regular talks in the evening, Solita had become possessive, growing uncomfortable when Marnie discussed her family on the mainland, or the notion of her leaving the island. The subject would be changed and not returned to.
Still, Marnie smiled at the notion that every day she spent in this paradise among these strange creatures, she was one day closer to finally leaving it behind her. She would miss Solita, but she was young, prettier than she had ever been, and prepared to take on the world outside.
The morning the ship arrived, Marnie was in her bedroom, brushing out her lengthening hair and wondering what she would do with it all. Perhaps braids tonight. She would get Solita to help her, assuming Solita wasn’t exhibiting the creepier side of herself. She was shaken from her reverie by a knock at the door.
“Solita?”
No response. Must be one of the maids, but it was strange to have one appear in the morning when most were busy with breakfast and cleaning. Marnie crossed the room, her thin, sheer nightgown leaving her with a chill, and Marnie opened the door hugging her shoulders.
There were two there, similar to the maids, but without the domestic uniform, which made them seem more sleek, and a little frightening. Behind them, Marnie saw Solita standing, her mouth turned down t the edges with sadness.
“Solita?” Marnie said again, meeting the woman’s eyes as gloved hands seized her shoulders and a sharp pain registered in her shoulder. Marnie had just enough time to twist in the hands of her assailants and see the hypodermic pressed into her skin. Shocked, Marnie looked again to Solita, who couldn’t meet her eyes, her head bent to the ground, as darkness overtook her.

Solita stroked the dark hair away from Marnie’s face as her eyes fluttered opened, blinked hard, softened at the sight of her before growing suddenly cold.
“Solita, what do you think you’re doing?” Marnie tried to rise, to point an accusatory finger in Solita’s face and tell her how scared she had been when Solita showed up at her door like that, but it was okay because it was all a big joke..
But, she couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all. As consciousness rose and crystallized, she felt straps holding her down, her entire body secured. The ones holding her forehead and chin still felt as if they were made of heavy rubber. Lying on a waist-high table, Marnie’s eyes darted left and right. To her left, she saw one of the latexified girls that had grabbed her. To her right, a latex parody of a nurse, fussing over a box in her high patent white boots, white skirt and form fitting top, both with a red cross on them to designate a medical affiliation. It didn’t take long for Marnie to understand that she was in very serious danger.
“Solita?”
Solita stepped forward, ran her fingers over Marnie’s. “I’m right beside you, Marnie.”
Marnie’s voice wavered as she attempted to sound calm, almost casual. “What are we doing today, Solita?”
” I couldn’t just let you go,” Solita said, though it sounded like she was speaking to herself as much as to Marnie. “It was nice not being lonely, and when you left, I was going to be all aloe again.”
“I can see where you might be afraid of that, Solita, but I’m not going anywhere. See? Why don’t you just let me up so we can get something to eat?”
Solita continued, unabated by Marnie’s easy offer. “All these weeks, spending time with you… I think I fell in love with you, you know? We could have been queens of this island. I knew that someday someone would come looking for you, or the ship would come, and I would have to decide.”
“Please, Solita…”
“I would have to choose to watch you leave or keep you here forever with me. But..” Solita did look at Marnie, now, straight into her eyes. “…it wouldn’t exactly be Marnie staying.”
“Solita, you don’t have to do anything, I’ll stay as long as you want…”
Solita stroked the girl’s cheek and smiled with a bittersweet twitch of the eye. “I know you will, Marnie. You won’t know any better.”
Solita stepped from the room, as Marnie called after her, her fingers and toes wiggling, her body shifting only slightly under the straps despite her attempt. One of the “nurses” hobbled to a tray, taking earplugs out and securing them in her own ears, then delivering another set to the assistant. They nodded to each other, and the first nurse, walking in terse, squeaking steps, moved to a panel on the door.
Flipping a switch, the room was filled with white noise, then, beneath that, a low hum that Marnie could just make out. It wasn’t so loud as to be uncomfortable, but it was insistent, filling up her head. She was trying to identify the sound beneath the sound when her attention was distracted by the quick swivel of the surface she lay upon, standing her upright. Marnie could feel the tips of her feet barely graze the floor, the rest of her supported by the straps as a visor was placed over her head. It fit snugly, turning her world black.
“Solita?” she called, but there was no sound besides the nose filing her head, no color but black.

There was no difference between awake and asleep for Marnie except for a modicum of self-awareness, the realization that she couldn’t see, the sensation of the straps against her skin, her immobility. At some point, she had given up struggling with the straps. Her body ached from her muscles, tensed to escape for what must have been hours, and she enjoyed the relative comfort of her limp suspension.
She was still trying to pick apart the sound beneath the sound, and she felt like she could almost make it out, like a voice or a whisper, shredded by the wind. She pursued it though, as there was no other way to occupy her time as she hung here. Contemplating what the nurses might be doing around her, if they were there at all, was useless. She imagined for a moment that the sub-sound was saying her name, over and over, and she realized that it fit or that she imagined it fitting well enough to be close.
There was a tugging at her straps, and Marnie readied herself for a mad dash when they loosened, but the one across her bare waist was repositioned. She squirmed, as best she could, as a rubbery finger pressed a cold, slick lubricant into her slit, giving a methodical twist to coat the walls efficiently, then retracted.
Marnie pleaded, or she thought she did. She couldn’t hear her voice, and remembered the plugs that went into the hyperbolic nurses’ ears. Were they for the sound or her cries? She supposed it didn’t matter. She was alone, regardless of the forms that moved around her, invaded her.
She felt more than heard the grunt she released when a cylinder was placed into her slickened pussy, affixed in place by what she imagined must be surgical tape. Another pressure found her clit as some other device was placed over the nub, and affixed there as well. Marnie could feel the sway if wires against her thigh, but just barely.
She listened for the click of the nurses’ tall heels, but there was only the noise, now calling her name, whether it called her name or not. She found that reassuring at least. If she remembered her name, she would make it. No amount of darkness or noise could make her forget her name. She was stronger than those girls roaming the fields, she was somebody. And she could resist, where they did not want to. A proud smile crossed her face. All she had to do was play Solita’s game until she was released. She could overtake the dark beauty if she must. Despite a healthier rounding of late, she was fit. If she had to survive for weeks on her own until a ship came, she would.
The noise was fading. No, that wasn’t quite right. The noise on top was fading. The one beneath rose, but was still indistinct, maybe words, like a song sung in a foreign tongue. She knew there was music there, but she couldn’t find the lyrics. Still, it was softer and more gentle than the white noise, which had diminished to almost nothing.
Marnie jerked her head when her vision was suddenly filled with light. In the void of blackness, a door had opened, invisible except for the light it let in. Marnie moved her head about to ensure the vision remained static, that it was just some programmed image, not reality. The opening door remained centered in her sight, the sliver of light interrupted by a form moving out of the door way and into the darkness beyond the door. The only thing Marnie could tell was that the figure fluidly reflected the light. It must be covered in rubber or leather or something to achieve that effect, and Marnie knew by the shape of it, by the way it walked that the figure underneath was Solita. She wasn’t just the caretaker of this island, Marnie mused, she was a spokes model, an incentive.
A soft glow rose, and the virtual Solita seemed to be immediately in front of the bound girl, a knowing smile on her face. t was a smile that urged struggle, resistance, only to be done with it that much sooner.
‘Doll,’ the voice said, a word Marnie heard and could not refute. She could still hear her name mixed in, or imagined it there, but ‘doll’ was certainly one of the things being said. At the mention of the word, a buzzing began inside her as the vibrator secured there began to steadily hum. As it buzzed within, the pressure against her clit increased, subsided, increased, subsided. It was a slow, gentle assault against her button, and her legs twitched in response as her stomach twisted itself, unable to deny the pure physical response of her sex.
The Solita that stood wordlessly before her pointed behind, and a screen lowered. Solita stood just to its left as it flickered to life, and Marnie noticed the light reflecting from Solita as the images danced. Latex. She was sure Solita was wearing latex. She was rewarded with a stronger buzzing inside her, and Marnie unconsciously bit her lower lip.
The screen was filled with the image of a girl alone in a room, a room decorated in bright pin – the curtains, the bedspread that Marnie imagined covered a pink mattress, pink carpet. The color seemed to run together in this room, the vision broken only by Solita’s peripheral presence and the girl on the screen, wearing simple jeans, a plain tee, standing in stark contrast to the bright color around her. The on-screen Solita turned her head, seeming to stare straight into Marnie’s eyes with a knowing smile, then returned her smoky gaze back to the girl on screen.
The girl stood stock-still, eyes ahead, as two of the nurses, much like the ones who had attended Marnie, entered the frame on either side. When the first touched the girl, raising her arms, the anonymous girl shuddered, seemingly lost in pleasure. Simultaneously, the vibrator and cliterator (as Marnie now thought of it) both hummed to life, sending spasms through her belly. The voice filling the room whispered, “Doll…” It grew more insistent, louder.
The second nurse removed the tee, revealing a plain bra beneath. Marnie wondered if the girl on screen were an actress, or if she was being programmed, toyed with, a moment of subjugation captured on camera. When the girl’s bra was removed in short order by the first nurse, whose job seemed to be stripping the girl as the other nurse steadied her, another wave of whispers and vibrations flooded Marnie’s senses, matching the reaction of the girl on the screen. The virtual Solita looked to Marnie occasionally, then back to the girl, the same knowing smile painted on red lips.
Next, the nurse removed the girl’s jeans, unbuckling them with little care, obsessed with the task and not the process. This did not stop the shivering reactions of the girl on screen, nor did it ease the whispers and ministrations of Marnie’s increasingly moist pussy. When the girl’s panties followed suit, leaving her bare, a look of pleading sexuality on her face, help up only by the assistant nurse, the assault on Marnie’s sex was doubled, and she could feel her legs desperately trying to clench together, her hands to touch something besides the latex straps holding her.
The first nurse disappeared from the frame, leaving Marnie and the girl in exquisite stasis, one held aloft by latex hands, the other by latex straps. The nurse returned, her featureless latex face tilting in examination of the girl. A hand extended, stroking the girl’s face, and Marnie and the stranger moaned aloud together, as the devices within Marnie worked diligently at their tasks. Marnie’s fingers curled around the latex straps that held her, squeezing them, rubbing them.
The assistant nurse lifted one of the girl’s legs as the first retrieved a tube from her tray, which was summarily uncapped and a gel applied to the nurse’s hand. The hand began at the girl’s raised foot, coating, making the shine glisten. A whir of unheard motors raised Marnie’s leg in tandem with the video, startling Marnie even as her wet sex betrayed her resolve. Marne realized now what was happening. She was supposed to associate with the quivering, desperate girl on the screen, to relate to her. She would not, she vowed, even as a small orgasm rippled through her body. The devices attached to her did not slow or stop, only kept humming, pressing inside her, feeding the fire that was beginning inside.
The gel applied over the entirety of the girl’s leg, that leg was released, and Marnie’s table recessed to settle her les back together. The reunion was short lived as the next leg was raised, just as the assistant on camera raised the appendage on screen.
The scene continued to play out, the girl tended to by the assistant, arms raised, hair pulled back, and Marnie table shifted and lifted, mimicking the actions on screen. When the girl’s hair was raised, Marnie felt latex fingers do the same behind her, and she could not deny the slick, sensual feel of it against her forehead as the fingers grazed her skin. Unlike Marnie, the girl on screen was now coated in a thin sheen of the gel, her body shiny under the lights, seeming reflect the pink all around her. Marnie’s eyes blinked more heavily as she watched, a curiosity filling her. What came next?
The answer was obvious in retrospect, as Marnie began to lose focus on the machines buzzing at the center of her pleasure, the slow drip from her own lubricated labia unattended and virtually unnoticed. The nurse bent off screen, raising again, arms full of shiny pink material. Marnie knew then, even as the whispers filling the room grew louder, “Doll… pleasure…”
As the assistant raised the girl’s foot again, and Marnie’s table followed suit, the pink cat suit was eased onto the girl’s foot, smoother by attentive hands, lifted, over the knee, the thigh, smoothly hugging the girl’s skin. The girl, reacting to the latex as it was drawn up her leg, ran her hands over her breasts, over her mouth, the tongue finding her digits to lick and suck. Marnie was looking at a wholly sexual being, and she closed her eyes, the voices filling the room and the space behind her eyes, inescapable. “Doll..” it said, and, “Pleasure.”
Marnie’s body was manipulated by the table, mirroring the girl’s slow transformation from a plain-skinned woman to a pink latex-coated vision of lust. When the suit was over her arms and shoulders, the first nurse turned her around, and Marnie couldn’t resist the thought that her ass looked so good in that pink skin, so smooth and perfect and round. The back was still slightly open, the seam of the cat suit drawn together by the assistant as the first nurse retrieved what looked like a small metal rod from the tray, with a handle and a dense coil wrapped around the shaft until ending in a flat metal tip. A cord hung from the base and off the screen. The assistant held together the flaps as the nurse touched the tip of the rod to the gathered latex. A wisp of smoke rose from the girl’s back, and Marnie’s eyes opened wider, understanding now that the girl was being sealed. Her shock was quickly replaced by a further attack on her pussy, forcing her eyelids down hard as her hips squirmed to push deeper. When her eyes opened again, the girl’s back was smooth, save for a thin line where the seam had joined. She was left standing as her hands explored her body, squeezing her breasts, rubbing over her stomach, around to her back and the curve of her waist and ass.
When the nurse returned to the girl, she held in her hands a pair of pink latex boots, the heels balanced on sharp heels. The girl saw them and lowered to the ground, the assistant now an observer to this girl that had not only accepted her fate, but was ushering its totality nearer. Marnie watched, her fingers unconsciously stroking the latex straps, as the voice in the room picked up another word. “Doll,” it said, and, “Pleasure,” and. now, “Touch.” On screen, the girl raised her leg as the nurse inserted it into the spike-heeled boot, fitting it over the pinks mass that were once individual toes. The boot slid into place, and the girl lowered her leg, raising the other. As the machine followed suit, Marnie could hear the mantra over and over, “Doll… Pleasure… Touch…”
The second boot slid just as easily in place, and the nurse gestured to the girl to roll over. Marnie watched as the girl obeyed the wordless command, the nurse retrieving the iron and sealing the boots as effortlessly as the skin had been covered by the pink cat suit. When the wisps of smoke had cleared, the small seams hugged the back of the girl’s legs, leaving only a suggestion that the girl had not simply materialized in this fashion, borne of lust and pink latex. The assistant returned to help the girl to her feet, and a new word entered into the vocabulary of the voice whispering to her. “Obey,” it said.
The girl tottered briefly on her heels, then stabilized, straightening, arching, hands exploring again, one settling between her legs, now smooth and slick, the other pressing against one encased breast. The nurse disappeared again, as the image of Solita turning to face Marnie, and back again, distracted Marnie long enough to be surprised at the reappearance of the nurse. In her hands, another pink latex item was held, one Marnie tilted her head to make out, the image moving with her head, the vibrator and cliterator humming away, voice whispering again and again, “Doll… Pleasure… Touch… Obey.”
When the pink mask was unfolded, the girl on the screen silently moaned, the look and sounds of lust unmistakable, even in this void, and Marnie could feel her body respond to the surrender of the girl on the screen. The hood was placed over her head, smoothed, holes left for her eyes, her nose, her mouth, but otherwise featureless, another hole in the back used to feed her hair through, winding it into a long pony tail. The iron returned, sealing the hood to the neck of the cat suit, encasing the girl inside the suit. When the iron was returned to the tray, the nurse and the assistant took a step back, observing the smooth pink form, her hands still exploring and *Touching*, a beautiful *Doll* consumed by itself.
The virtual Solita turned her gaze again to meet Marnie’s, lingering there, and Marnie looked into the dark eyes, her body awash with pleasure, as Solita’s smile grew, beautiful and knowing. Then, Solita stepped away, into the darkness. Marnie’s eyes scanned the horizon of the world within the visor, searching for Solita. She gaped when Solita appeared on the screen, approaching the Doll there, reaching out to it. The Doll, upon seeing Solita, responded with abandon, moving close to the raven-haired seductress with a tilt of her hips, punctuated by the height of the heels, hands closing around Solita, tongue outstretched, worshipping the latex Solita wore, and the skin that was contained beneath it. Solita sat, scooping the Doll into her arms as it curled against her, petting its hair as the Doll kissed and licked and touched.
“Worship,” the voice continued, “Pleasure… Obey… Touch… Doll.”

Marnie wasn’t sure when she slept or when she woke, only that sometimes there was darkness, sometimes there were the images and voices. The scene had replayed again and again, the girl’s transformation looping before her eyes, the machines attached to her continuing their pleasuring, the voices whispering. Other phrases and words had slipped in, and Marnie knew them all by heart, now. “Doll… Touch… Pleasure… Obey… Worship… Lust… Lick… Kiss… Suck… Doll.” When the nurses returned to the room in the world outside the visor and unstrapped her, lowering her to the floor, Marnie only knew that she was being moved, touched. She found herself responding with pleasure at every touch, her tongue reaching out to touch a finger if it came close, hands stroking the latex hands that held her. Once upon the floor, Marnie’s body responded to the cues, arms and legs lifting and lowering with the girl upon the screen. When the nurses removed the devices providing her body with so much pleasure, Marnie filled the time between raising and lowering but stroking her breasts, her pussy.
She found that the voice was all she needed to think, to touch and lick and kiss and please was all she needed to do. She remained in that state, sitting on the floor, the voices and screen teaching her, her fingers providing her with the stimulation her body now needed. She must have slept, certainly, but she couldn’t remember that. In fact, she only thought of the doll and of Solita and the pleasures they must have found together.

Solita saw the nurse click down the hallway on her tall white heels, mindless of Solita’s presence, arms full of pink latex. A twinge of guilt came and passed, as she reminded herself that this equipment is used for selfish purposes all too often. Now, they were going to give Solita something back…a companion. As the door opened and closed on the Education Room, she heard a moan of pleasure. She wondered if Marnie might not need a new name, as any she would give her would be immediately accepted, but Solita loved Marnie and resolved not to change it. Unless she got bored with it.
Solita crept to the door, ear pressed against it. No sounds, but it was quite well sound-proofed. She paced outside, chewing her lower lip. She knew the transformation occurring within the room, had, in fact, assisted with it, to provide toys for others, but this was for her, this was her reward for the months of loneliness. Marnie would be hers, forever, and she would care for her above all the others.
The door opened, and Solita could hear within only a quick panting and the squeak of rubber fingers over rubber skin. Solita entered, calming herself, assuring herself that would be fine, that Marnie wouldn’t run. She had nothing to fear, she realized, as soon as she saw the girl.
Her short hair made only a small ponytail, but that would grow. Her eyes stared lustfully out from the hollows of her face, the mouth sealed to the lips, those full lips. The rich meals had served her well, and the pink skin that clung to her curved deliciously over her fuller breasts, her rounded bottom. She moved at first unsteadily on the spiked heels, taking a tentative step towards Solita, then gained confidence as Solita opened her arms to her, embracing her, sitting with her in Solita’s lap, completing the imprint from Marnie to Doll.
The Doll pressed against Solita, face upturned, kissing softly at Solita’s neck as Solita stroked her hair, cooing to her, a tear squeezing from her smiling eyes, even as the Doll’s hands settled over Solita’s breasts, exploring them, kissing them. Solita opened her blouse for the Doll, allowing her to kiss and lick, losing herself against the Doll’s latex skin. When the Doll’s fingers ventured further, tracing around Solita’s dampening mound, finally finding the lubrication needed to slip easily inside begin to stroke her owner to true bliss, Solita cried out, holding the Doll to her pubis, sighing as the Doll cleaned her anew with its inexperienced but eager tongue.
Finally, Solita drew the Doll’s face to her own, kissing it and drawing slowly back, looking into its worshipping eyes.
“I’ll call you, Marnie. Would you like that?”
“Doll,” it replied, and moaned in bliss.

By
Mindlesswonder303

Scarlet stomped up the stairs angry at having to come out on this beautiful late summer night to work on a preliminary paper that was only a basis of a paper she wouldn’t need to present until the spring. For Christ’s sake she thought to herself, it’s the first week of classes. Becoming angrier as she passed the volumes of books in an empty university library, she was mumbling curses about her quite handsome professor who had insisted she present something to him before the next class.

To make matters worse, the ancient cultures section was on the top floor of the equally feeling ancient library in a section that was the stuff of horror spoofs. Scarlet pulled a series of dusty books off the shelf and found a chair that was relatively comfortable and completely stain free. Despite its obvious age, it looked like no had ever sat in it. At least no one has had a choice to soil it with bodily fluids she thought critically.

Thumbing through volumes, Scarlet grew tired of taking notes and picked up the last volume. It was in a language she had never seen before as she leafed through the pages. The book was clearly aged and had an aura about it that made her turn the pages even more vigorously. There was a power emanating from the book. The more she struggled to read the alien language, the more Scarlet found herself drawn to it.

At page 422 Scarlet stopped skimming the book instantly. Something about the page caught her attention and forced her to try and decipher it. The page was blank save for a brief paragraph above a short poem. Incantation came immediately to Scarlet’s mind and snorted at the mere use of that word. It was ridiculous. Incantations and such nonsense.

As Scarlet ran her fingers over the page she begin to sound out the words that had a distinct air of Latin mixed with Gaelic phrases. As the words, which meanings escaped her, fell from her lips, Scarlet became more anxious to finish the phrases. As the last word was uttered with forced, a strange feeling began to envelop Scarlet.

She began to become antsy in her seat as she twisted moved erratically trying to cease the rapid warming sensations that began to flood her body. Her mind was invaded by a light grogginess that had the distinct impression of pink bubbles. Trying to shake her head clear of the nonsense, Scarlet grabbed the offending book and began to run towards the back stairwell that led to the scenic trail back to her dorm.

Scarlet only made it halfway down the first flight when the tingling sensation in her breasts erupted to an almost pleasure laced with pain. Her waist felt as if it was cinching tighter but her hips began to strain against her jeans. Scarlet’s head was being filled with more bubbles, yes, bubbles, that was the best way she could rationalize it.

Grasping the railing, Scarlet noticed that her hand was becoming slimmer, more delicate and it looked as though she had perfectly manicured nails protruding from what used to be nail bitten stubs. Suddenly, the tingling in Scarlet’s chest took precedence in her awareness and she felt her breasts swell popping the buttons on her shirt.

When she would have cried out, Scarlet let out a fit of giggles in a voice sounding happily pleased and laced with enjoyment. Running her hands through her hair trying to shake the oddness of the night away, Scarlet realized that her hair was longer that it had been before and pulling it to look at it, noticed that it was nearly platinum blonde in color.

Scarlet pulled herself up and frantically tried to get herself to the exit has quickly as possible. She was hindered by a new onset of clumsiness as she bolted towards her dorm room. When she could see her dorm in sight her panic begin to rise because her confusion and inherent desire for fun began to take over. She was literally seeing pink bubbles.

Firm hands clasped her shoulders halting her frantic movements. Looking up, she saw her professor with a slightly amused grin on his face.

“Professor Hart,” Scarlet stuttered. “Please help me!”

“I would miss, if I knew who I was talking to. I feel I am at a disadvantage, you know me, but I don’t know who you are.”

His voice was creamy and smooth and it drove her absolutely insane. Stomping her foot, Scarlet yelled at him, “Professor! It’s Scarlet!”

His smile widened. “You don’t look like Scarlet.”

She could feel her nostrils flare and he took out his camera phone and snapped a quick picture. Showing it to her nearly made her head spin.

The girl that used to be there was no more. The girl in the picture looked sensual, an exaggerated hour glass figure with curves to kill, the nearly hip long blonde hair cascaded in waves. Her legs were longer and more toned, the perfect legs for heels, even in the jeans that didn’t fit just right.

Maybe it was the look of hunger clearly visible on her teacher’s face, maybe it was seeing what she had become but Scarlet through her head back and let out a fit carefree giggles at just how ridiculous this had become.

When she had finally finished her giggling, Scarlet was filled with a light heartedness she hadn’t ever experienced. She was also very aroused, and couldn’t remember why she hadn’t kissed this very fine specimen of man in front of her yet.

by
Beverly (aka BevG )

BEGINNINGS

Natalie turned the faded blue Honda into the long circular drive, bending behind the windshield to take in the full view of the house. It was palatial, a massive three-story estate with looming wings at either side shadowing the front entrance. Well-groomed hedges framed the front door, and Natalie pointed the nose of the car towards them. She looked through the passenger windows at the high double doors facing the drive and sighed.
Stepping out of the car and into the gloom of a gray September day, Natalie stretched her lean legs and rubbed her back. The drive from St. Louis had been a long one, and the freedom of an open space made her smile, despite the dreary weather. She trotted up to the front doors, catching sight of an elegant velour envelope wedged between the doors, her name written in a careful hand on the front.

As she pulled it free, Natalie noticed the shifting weight in the envelope, hurriedly opening it and removing the key inside. The note inside was written in the same careful loops and lines, brief, but welcoming.

Natalie tossed the key in the air and quickly snatched it back into her fist. She hopped off the front steps and jogged around one wing, peeking around the corner. Set away from the house was a four-car garage, with stairs leading up, curling around the side of the building to what certainly must have been drivers’ quarters years ago. Now, it was Natalie’s apartment until she finished school.

She walked casually towards the building, hospitable if not as ornate as the manor behind her, and attempted to insert the key into the lock of the wide garage doors. She was surprised when it would enter only half-way, and, after a jiggle or two in the look, quickly decided that this key was not meant for these doors. She turned her attention to the stairs, and, mounting them two at a time, found herself before a modest white door, a window set into the top half and shielded by curtains within. She could make out the gauzy shapes of furniture within.

“At least it’s furnished,” she thought, relieved, inserting the key easily into the lock and swinging the door inside.

The room above the garage was of a studio-style, with a small kitchen, a bedroom and living room, and a bathroom off to her right. Besides the bathroom, there were no clearly-defined doorways, but more of a suggested flow, given by the couches and small breakfast bar. It was humble, to be sure, but immaculately cleaned and decorated with a sense of warmth, and even playfulness, suggested by the liberal splashes of pink amongst the curtains and kitchen décor. Natalie liked it immediately.

Satisfied with her appraisal, Natalie moved back down the steps and to her car, parking it flush with the garage, but away from the front doors. She grabbed her few bags and made the move from car to apartment with all of her worldly possessions in one trip.

She resolved to unpack immediately. Soonest begun, soonest done, she always said. She sat down on the couch nearest the door, surveying her new domain, calculating where her few personal mementoes would be placed. It would be charming, she thought, as the weariness of the drive overtook her and she slept.

When she awoke, it was dark, and a soft rapping on the window of the door startled her from sleepy wakefulness to near-alarm.

“Hello?” she managed, disoriented but filled with a strange dread that seemed out of place in the dim room.

“Natalie?”

She sighed and stood up. It was the voice she recognized from a number of phone calls, and she was eager to get a glimpse of her landlady in the flesh aft almost two months.

“Coming,” she called and tried to brush out her naturally auburn hair from its certain mess, coming from her impromptu nap.

Natalie opened the door with what she hoped was a grateful smile and froze there. Over the phone, the woman’s voice had been soft, velvety almost, but with an air of elegance. She was not prepared for the appearance of the woman before her. Molly Danvers’ hair was a deep black, full and (Natalie was sure) soft, falling around her shoulders like dark waves. Her skin was a soft white, almost porcelain, with a round, innocent-looking face, set off by deep red lips and a wicked glint in her eye. The dress she wore was almost antique, blossoming in all the right places, clinging almost to the point of lewdness in others, the colors somber, but seductive. In all, she was perhaps the most beautiful woman Natalie had ever laid eyes on.

“May I come in?” the satiny voice asked and Natalie shook her head a bit.

“Of course, please. What time is it, anyway?”

Molly floated into the room, stepping past Natalie to the couch the young girl had just been sleeping on.

“Almost nine. I hope I didn’t wake you…”

“Well, sort of. I fell asleep on the couch after I got here. Good thing you woke me up, actually.”

“Good, then.”

Molly smiled, white teeth shining behind the red lips. She sat and crossed her legs, and Natalie saw the heels she wore, black, glistening, high and savage.

“How was your trip?”

“Fine. Long, but I guess that’s what you’d expect from driving from Missouri to Vermont.”

“Yes. I’m sorry the weather was so dreary today, but that’s to be expected this time of year. When it gets cold, it happens fast and stays that way for months. As we say here, we have four months… Fall, winter, spring and Thursday.”

Natalie offered a polite laugh, then realized she was still standing by the door. She shut it quickly and took a seat on the opposite couch.

“How do you like it?” Molly asked, gesturing at the room.

“I love it, actually. It’s cozy.”

“I think so, too. As have all the girls before who stayed here. They have never complained, so I’ve never made any major changes.”

“I don’t think you need to.”

“Good. Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

Molly rose gracefully from the couch, stepping towards Natalie and leaning towards her, offering a brief kiss on her cheek.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Thank you, Miss Danvers.”

“Call me Molly.”

“Thank you, Molly.” Natalie smiled. She felt herself blushing.

“One last thing. As you know, I work at the university in the chemistry department. I was wondering if you might be interested in a little work on campus, maybe off-set some expenses?”

“What sort of work. I mean, I’m an English major…”

“Nothing too technical, dear, just playing secretary for me in the office. The job is yours if you want it, but I understand if…”

“No, no, that would be great. I could use the money.”

“Fine. Well, want to start tomorrow?”

“Sure. Gives me something to do until classes start next week.”

“I’ll bring up some breakfast in the morning then. Get some rest, dear.”

And with that, Molly swept out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaving Natalie in her seat, trying to understand what had just happened to her.

She found the light from the end table lamps on either side of the couch provided a soft glow to the whole room, relaxing her. Natalie shook off the sleep and the awkwardness she had felt upon first meeting Molly Danvers, deciding that a shower would be the best ticket to reestablishing her own sense of normalcy.

She rifled through the suitcases until she found her flannel pajamas and laid them out on the bed. She noted with a smile that there was a significant amount of pink sewn into the fabric of the comforter and sheets there too. It was as though she was twelve all over again, she thought.

She stripped out of her traveling clothes, jeans and a faded concert tee shirt from a band she hadn’t listened to in years, and piled them beside the bed. She felt a little out of place, nude in an unfamiliar space, but it was her space now, wasn’t it? And the curtains were closed, after all.

She walked lightly into the bathroom, feeling the cool change from plush carpet to the cool tile, real tile she noted. The light inside the bathroom was soft and soothing. Initially she thought she might just have a quick shower, but the warmth of the bathroom changed her mind. She turned the hot water on fully and ran a hand under the tap, adjusting the cool water until she had achieved her perfect temperature, then plugged the tub, closing her eyes and listening to the water pour into the tub.

The water echoed against the walls of the tub, and Natalie turned off the water, sliding first one leg, then another, into the liquid heat. She eased herself into the water, dipping her hair back to wet it, then closed her eyes and rested her head against the cool porcelain.

She saw Molly behind the lids of her eyes, the striking woman with the raven hair and dark eyes. Natalie wasn’t sure if her reaction to Molly was of a sexual nature, or simply the natural response to anyone, man or woman, who exuded that much confidence. She supposed it was the latter. After all, even in high school, she had known that her interest lay with boys. She was no sexual adventurer, but she had fumbled her way out of her virginity, then found that she had enjoyed a handful of later encounters. Her last boyfriend had been sensitive, appreciative, responsive. The sort of man that any girl would enjoy as a partner. But no one she had met before seemed to wear an aura of sexuality like Molly had. Not even close.

Natalie ran her hands down her shoulders, over her small but pert breasts, their gentle curves, the small aureoles, the eraser-size nipples that hardened even as she touched them. Further down, over her flat stomach, the well-proportioned waist, curving into the suggestive lines of her hips, across the plain of her pubis, trimmed into a single strip of darker hair. Here, her hands lingered a moment, pressing against the soft folds, cupping, then moving along the lines of her legs, over the thighs, lifting her leg to her stomach and running a hand down the length of her calf. Her body was lithe, perfect for the swimming she had done in high school, lean and long. She was proud of her features, but she made no effort to show off her body, feeling that her body would be a welcome surprise to a lover, not a promise of things to come.

She sighed in contentment, almost a purr, closing her eyes again and allowing her mind to drift with her hands.

The following morning, Natalie awoke with a feeling of deep contentment. She was up before Molly had arrived, careful to be dressed and ready for her first day working for her new landlady. What she quickly realized, however, was that her clothes, crammed tight in their suitcases, were wrinkled, balled and stuffed. She scoured the apartment frantically for an iron, or even a dryer to knock some of the wrinkles out, but no such amenities were to be found. When the knock came on the door, she let out a hiss of frustration, then opened the door.

“Molly, I am so sorry…”

Molly entered without the invitation this time, carrying a tray holding two plates, a coffee pot and two cups.

“Whatever for?”

Molly placed the tray on the breakfast bar and looked at the young girl.

“I didn’t realize when I told you I could start work this morning that I have absolutely no clothes ready. Maybe I could do some laundry today and I’ll…”

“Nonsense. I’ll have some clothes up here for you after breakfast. You and I are about the same height. Maybe a little lighter than me, but they’ll fit fine.”

Molly offered a warm smile that looked more maternal than seductive in the light of day.

“Thank you. Again. For everything.”

Molly made a dismissive gesture with her hand and sat down at a stool by the counter. She lifted a cover from one plate and displayed a healthy portion of pancakes.

“I hope these are all right.”

Natalie returned the warm smile.

“Perfect.”

The meal was excellent, the pancakes delicious. Though Natalie was not accustomed to drinking coffee, the liberal addition of a sweet cream made it more than bearable, even tasty. Molly, as she would have expected, took hers black.

Molly excused herself after breakfast, saying she would have fresh clothes up while Natalie was getting ready, and disappeared down the steps and into the main house. Natalie hurried into the shower, hoping that the clothes would actually fit. Height aside, Molly was certainly… larger… in places than Natalie. She was not quite voluptuous, but Molly had a more fleshy frame than she did to be sure.

Under the running water, Natalie could hear the apartment door open. She paused, her hands in her hair and shampoo running down her face, blowing water from her lips.

“Molly?”

She heard someone giggle, titter almost, then the sounds of quick footsteps and the door close again. She could not have sworn that it wasn’t Molly, but it certainly didn’t sound like the woman. Natalie chided herself. Of course there are other people in that house. Someone has to clean it, mow the lawns, things that Natalie could not believe that Molly would do herself. She imagined Molly in jeans and beat up sneakers mowing the lawn and snickered.

Out of the shower, Natalie dried quickly, pulling her hair back in a ponytail until she could dry it further and gave the apartment a quick inspection. No sign that anyone was still here, but she had heard the door close. She made her way to the now-made bed (she almost expected to see a mint on the pillow) and saw the outfit that Molly had sent up. It was a gray business skirt, black blouse, and a pair of black nylon stockings, a pair of low black heels at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t sure about the stockings, but the outfit was conservative, professional. She was not disappointed by Molly’s taste.

She dug through her own suitcase for a bra and panties, then slipped on the blouse and skirt. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and, even with the wet ponytail, she was pleased with what she saw. As an afterthought, she even rolled the stockings down and pulled them over her legs, surprised by the silkiness of the fabric. These were expensive, she knew, and enjoyed the way the tops clung to her thighs. She quickly attended to her hair, leaving it down for the day, and slipped on the heels, hurrying to meet her new boss in the drive.

Natalie slipped the key in her apartment door, stepping inside and immediately kicking of the shoes. She fell back onto the couch and smiled. If that was work, she loved it. The job consisted of her answering two phone calls for ‘Dr. Danvers’ and getting the occasional cup of coffee. At one point, Molly had even apologized for the hectic pace, and there was no irony in her eyes. Natalie giggled despite herself and rolled off the couch and to her feet again.

Opening the refrigerator, Natalie saw an assortment of sandwich meats, condiments, a container that looked as though it held some sort of stew and a covered pitcher simply labeled ‘cream.’ For the coffee, she decided, not that she had any intention of drinking any this late, but it would be nice for the morning. Natalie closed the fridge just as she heard a rap at the door.

Looking up, Natalie saw Molly peeking around the curtains at her. She opened the door and stepped aside to allow the woman to enter, again bearing a tray.

“I thought you might like something besides sandwiches.”

“You are way too nice, Molly. I feel like I’m staying at a resort.”

“Good. I want you to be happy hear, dear,” she said, placing the tray on the counter. “I brought up some stroganoff that Nikki made. She really is quite the cook.”

“Is that the girl that brought up the clothes?”

“No, that was Sumi.”

Natalie took a seat on the opposite side of the counter from Molly.

“Just one plate tonight?”

“I already ate, dear. But I thought I could keep you company for a moment.”

Natalie grinned. Welcome company, indeed, she thought.

“How many people work for you? In the house, I mean?”

“Only four for now. Some of the girls who have stayed here moved inside with me after a time. They liked it so much here…” Molly raised her arms in a gesture of happy acceptance.

“Were they students, too?”

“Some were. Others just girls needing a home and work. Others moved on, of course, but even they visit time to time. I like to think of them all as family. Just like you are family now.”

Molly smiled again, but the look seemed somehow more predatory, sensual, like the night before.

Natalie took a bite of the pasta, the sweet tang of the sour cream exploding in her mouth.

“This is delicious.”

“Thank you. Well, Nikki thanks you. She tries to prepare everything from scratch, if she can. Makes all the difference in the world.”

“Yes, it does.”

Molly poured a cup of hot tea from a ceramic kettle and slid it over to Natalie. “This is a special blend.”

“Doesn’t anyone here drink anything with ice?”

Molly released a soft laugh that reminded Natalie of wind chimes on a breezy day in Missouri, so beautiful was it.

“Not in Vermont. We take everything hot we can, especially this time of year. Do you still have the cream in your cooler? That will cool it down.”

Natalie nodded through a mouthful of pasta and began to rise.

Molly motioned her back to her seat, sweeping to the fridge and back with the pitcher in her hand, pouring a long stream into the tea which lightened and swirled.

Natalie took a test sip, finding the tea sweet and tangy all at once.

“Delicious.”

“Maybe you can learn to make it sometime,” Molly said with a wink and settled back onto the stool. Her elegance seemed out of place in the little apartment, her presence too large for the room.

They chatted awhile longer, and Molly took her leave as Natalie grew sleepy. She barely recalled slipping into bed, shrugging off the blouse and skirt before climbing beneath the sheets.

When she awoke the next morning, Natalie found herself curled beneath the comforter, her eyes blinking against the sun bouncing off the fabric from the window. She slowly ran her hand along the soft cover, tracing the swirls of pink with a finger and smiling. She knew she would have to get ready soon, but she paused reveling in how genuinely good she felt. Great, even. Her whole body felt warm, tingly, like in a dream of floating. She shifted a little and marveled at the sensation of her legs rubbing together beneath the nylons, and then realized that she had not taken them off last night. This got her moving, worried what Molly might think of her sleeping in what must be such expensive attire.

She kicked the blanket to the floor and sat up, kicking her legs over the side of the bed and carefully rolling the stockings down and off, draping them over the footboard. As she rose, she could feel the material of her bra clenching her tight, the flesh barely contained. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw that she was indeed a little larger, even her panties seemed to be a little snug. When she turned sideways, she saw no visible bulge in her stomach, but surely two days of pancakes and pasta were taking their toll. She resolved to take a good run today, or maybe even a swim. Molly would certainly have a pool.

She stepped into the shower, warming herself as the falling water steamed the bathroom mirror and produced a comforting fog in the room. As she twirled in the shower, she could feel the weight of her breasts now, the gentle swing of them as she turned. Yes, they were bigger, no doubt about it, and not just swollen with extra calories. They were firm, the slim nipples standing at attention, pointing out, not down. As Natalie ran her hands under them, over them, she smiled with delight. Maybe it was growth spurt. The once-modest chest was now fuller, a c-cup if she had to guess. This realization came fast on the heels of another. She had no bra that would fit now.

Natalie turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her new chest, moving to the mirror and giving the condensation a quick wipe before looking down to her toothpaste. When she looked up, she was greeted by a pair of sky blue eyes, soft and gorgeous. Gone were the brown eyes she had seen looking back at her every day for nineteen years, replaced by these pools of radiant blue. She felt the toothbrush fall from her hands.

She composed herself enough to finish her teeth and hair, tying it back in a bun even as she crossed the room towards her bed. She was only slightly surprised to see that a new outfit had appeared while she was in the shower, this time accompanied by matching bright pink panties and a bra. She lifted the bra and checked the tag. 34c. She sat down hard on the bed, mind reeling even as her body whispered to her that everything was fine, everything is all right because everything feels so good.

It was something to do with this place, she knew, something strange about this house, Molly, everything. But was it bad? She didn’t know. But, she would ask.

Natalie dressed quickly, putting on the black stockings without thinking, matching the black turtleneck and khaki skirt, a little shorter than yesterday’s but nothing daring. The shoes were black patents with a buckle on the tops that made her feel like a schoolgirl. Her auburn hair set a nice contrast to the dark sweater, she thought, and let it down.

As she finished, she heard the car honk from the driveway. She idly wondered why the car was never parked in the garage. Natalie hurried down the steps of her apartment and into the car.

Being in the car with Molly’s presence erased the questions Natalie had promised to ask, and the work day had kept her occupied. She noticed Molly coming and going quite a bit, and they didn’t have time to have a break together like Natalie had hoped.

When they arrived home, Molly had excused herself quickly, saying she had quite a bit of work to do. Natalie grudgingly left her, heading back to the apartment. There, she made herself a sandwich and ate in silence, missing the pleasant and alluring company of her landlady. Something felt off, though, something she felt was missing besides the company, something she could not put her finger on.

When a knock came on the door, she hurried to it, expecting to see Molly there with her usual tray of goodies. Instead, there was another woman, a girl really. She was young, maybe twenty, with an astonishingly beautiful soft face and an infectious grin.

“Hi!” she waved happily from outside.

Natalie cautiously opened the door.

“Hi!” the girl said again. Natalie took no notice of that, however, instead consumed with the rest of the girl the door had previously hidden. She was an exaggeration of womanhood, breasts that hung like over inflated balloons from her chest, thick nipples pushing through her almost sheer nightgown, her curves dramatic, the swell of her bottom pushing the nightgown out, her long legs ending in tall pink heels. She wore a happy grin on her face that did not falter, despite the stunned look on Natalie’s face, her head cocked almost quizzically.

“Ummmm, come in,” Natalie finally managed.

“Thanks!” the girl said and stepped inside.

“Did Molly send you up?”

“Yep,” the girl answered brightly.

Natalie closed the door behind her and stared. She waited for the girl to go on, but it appeared that she was answering only direct questions.

“What for?”

“For milk, silly,” the girl replied without hesitation.

“I think I have enough in the fridge. Are you bringing me some?” Natalie was growing more confused by the moment. “I don’t understand.”

“You gotta drink Tiffy’s milk. Miss Molly said so.”

“Are you Tiffy?” Natalie asked, knowing the answer already, the first hint of understanding crossing her face.

“Uh-huh,” Tiffy said, “I brought you milk.”

“All right. Where is it?”

But then Natalie knew. She knew even as the first wet stains appeared on the sheer nightgown, the nipples glued to the material as the stain began to spread and a sweet smell drifted to Natalie.

“Oh my god.”

Tiffy lifted her nightgown off, baring her chest as tiny droplets of milk formed at the tips of her breasts, growing thick, then streaming down the enormous globes on her chest.

“Oh god no!”

Tiffy frowned comically. “You don’t like Tiffy?”

Natalie backed into the apartment, away from the leaking girl, fumbling backwards before spilling over onto her back.

Tiffy followed steadily, moving towards her, looking down at her even as the droplets of milk fell from her breasts and were quickly absorbed by the carpet.

“Stay away from me!” Natalie cried, backing away still scooting backwards on her back.

Tiffy leaned down, taking hold of Natalie’s waist and sliding her body along Natalie’s frame. She could feel the heat coming off Tiffy, and a smell, like sweet fruit. Tiffy straddled her, the same blissful smile frozen on her face, her eyes bright with an animal excitement as she lowered herself towards Natalie. At first Natalie thought the girl might kiss her, then felt Tiffy’s arms wrap around her even as she struggled to break free of her, the arms lifting her, cradling her like a child, until one wet nipple grazed her face. Natalie jerked her head away, but Tiffy was just as quick to turn her face back towards her breast. Natalie felt her face pressed against the mammary, her nose covered by it, warm, wet fluid pooling at her closed lips. Tiffy pulled her closer still, Natalie’s struggling becoming more frantic as she wanted to gasp for air, knowing she could not, must not, open her mouth.

Eventually, she did.

Natalie awoke on the floor of the apartment, the first break of dawn peeking over the horizon. Her eyes fluttered, the vivid blue of here eyes sparkling. She sat up quickly, looking frantically around the apartment, but she was alone.

As she sat up, Natalie felt the weight of her breasts settle against her chest heavily. Beneath the turtleneck, she could feel the bra straining, threatening to break its clasp and release their contents within the sweater. Likewise, the skirt she wore fit more snugly, her hips flared and full. She giggled a little, as the sensation of her new body washed over her like a tide of pleasure, her hands reaching up to cup her breasts, explore their fullness. She stopped herself, even as a finger grazed the hardened nipple beneath, sending spasms through her. She had to think. Get control. Get out!

Natalie stood, running hands down her face, feeling the new fleshiness, the more rounded cheeks that had once been so lean. Moving quickly, she gathered one small bag of clothes, now too small, she knew, but at least familiar, hers, and the car keys from the counter. She moved swiftly and quietly down the steps to her car.

The engine turned over and caught the first time, causing her to give a sigh of relief, and she dropped the transmission into drive and sped down the long drive to the road.

In her purse, she had a fistful of money remaining from her trip, not enough to get home, but enough to get sanctuary. She pulled into the first motor lodge on the outskirts of the small Vermont town. She tried to appear calm when she asked for the room, keeping her voice even and a smile on her face. The older man behind the counter gave her a hungry look as he typed her name into the computer and took her money. She wanted to shoot him an evil look, slap him, but her body betrayed her again, tingling as she thought, at first unhappily, at how he looked at her, how his eyes lingered on her sweater and skirt. Then, her body tingled, sang to her of how nice it was to be looked at, wanted, lusted after. How sweet his attentions were, how yummy she must look, like a sweet treat. The smile she gave him came more naturally as she took the room key from him, even dropping a wink. When she turned to leave, she disgusted herself by wiggling her hips a little more than usual, opening the door and giving him a nice long look at her profile.

Once outside, she regained composure, scolding herself for her behavior, but the dampening between her legs offered no apology. She had to get to her room. When she looked down at the key, she saw the room number was 69. Cute, she thought glumly, very cute.

The room was tiny, musty, a smell of old cigarettes and sweat drifting through the air. She made sure the bolt was thrown on the door, the curtains drawn tight. Once the room had become darker, safer in her mind, she pulled off the turtleneck and tossed it carelessly on the bed. She had been right. The bra was straining. Natalie reached around her back and unclasped it, her breasts crying with pleasure at the release, at the feel of cool air on their bare surface, the nipples hard and aching with the desire to feel more, be touched, licked, sucked.

The skirt followed, as did the shoes and stockings, and finally the panties which were almost uncomfortably tight. She gazed at herself in the full-length swivel mirror in the corner of the room. She was not as grotesquely proportioned as Tiffy had been, but she was changed, no question about that. Her breasts were easily a d-cup, her waist still slim, her hips wider and the flesh behind them was rounded and gently curved. The most striking thing was her hair. Where it had once been a deep auburn color, it was now a dirty blonde, not quite bright, but she had a feeling that more milk would have settled that for her.

She sat down hard on the bed, rubbing her face at the thought. The milk. The cream in the tea, the coffee. It had changed her, maybe was still changing her. Her body was obviously operating at a level of arousal that she had never felt before. She wondered if she had been changed mentally, as well, or if she would even know if she had been.

She rolled onto her side, her breasts slumping against her hands as she curled into a ball on the bed and slept.

Natalie’s first thought when she woke was how she had never imagined hurting this much from the inside before. She wondered briefly if this is what it felt like to spontaneously combust. She writhed on the bed, clenching her stomach, breathing deeply like she had heard pregnant women do. Was that it? Was she pregnant with something?

Another cramp silenced that thought, too. She moaned out loud, tears squeezing from her eyes. And all because of the milk, the stupid, awful milk!

The pain eased a moment at the thought of it, the sweet warmth. Her body called out to her, insistent and fierce, the thought of the milk, the taste, the heat…

“No,” she said aloud and was greeted by another cramp, twisting her insides.

“All right, all right, you win,” she told no one. The pain eased, a small, steady throb in her abdomen, reminding her of her promise. “You win.”

Natalie was revolted by the way her body glowed with pleasure as she pointed the Honda back towards the estate. The closer she came to it, each steady ticking mile closer, the more her body seemed to come alive, light up with desire and need. She knew this drive sealed her fate that no matter where she traveled, Natalie would never return from that house. She would die there and someone new would be born. She could see glimpses of her in her own face already, but the picture wasn’t complete. When it was, Natalie would not be there to see it.

She turned into the drive, seeing the house with its looming wings, the wide double doors. As she slowed the car to a stop, she saw one of the wide doors open and Molly step out, wearing long black boots with sharp heels and a black dress that was cinched at the middle with a red sash. She smiled as the car door opened and Natalie stepped out.

“Oh, dear,” she smiled, “I was so worried about you.” She crossed the drive and hugged Natalie close, kissing her cheek. “I know you have a lot of questions, honey, and I will answer them all. But first, I bet you are starving.”

Natalie nodded. She wasn’t just famished, she was starving.

The doors of the main house shut behind Natalie, and the echo in the main hall gave her a start. Molly’s arm wrapped around her waist, coaxing her gently inside. The cramps she had experienced before were gone, replaced by a hunger that was like a low, dull ache, not insistent, but ever-present. The patent black shoes that Natalie wore were loud on the hard stone floor of the hall.

“How do you feel?” Molly asked, guiding Natalie into a lush parlor. She eased the younger girl into a high-backed chair, sitting across from her on a leather sofa that reminded Natalie of something you might see in a psychiatrist’s office.

Natalie shrugged. How could she feel? Lost? Trapped? Terrified of losing herself like Tiffy had? As she squirmed in her chair, she realized she could add horny to that list, too.

“I’m sure you have some questions for me,” Molly purred. The confident smile on her face made Natalie at once furious and aroused. As Molly spoke, she curled her legs beneath her and propped herself up on the arm of the couch, like a lioness in repose.

“What have you done to me?” Natalie pleaded her eyes suddenly full of unexpected tears. Her breath hitched, causing her heavy breasts to bounce beneath the sweater she wore, the sensation not wholly unpleasant.

“Oh, dear, I hate to see you upset, but I promise it won’t be very long before you are as happy as you have ever been in your whole life. Happier, in fact. As for what I have done to you, I have done nothing directly to you. I have arranged it so that a hormone was introduced into your system that has altered your physiology, obviously, but has other effects as well. Every hormone in your body affects you in some way. This one creates dramatic changes to your appearance, many of which you have experienced first-hand. It is also incredibly addictive, and becomes more and more addictive the more you are exposed to it. In time, you will produce the hormone yourself and won’t need to take it from others. But it has been my observation that you probably will anyway.” At this, Molly dropped a lewd wink. “What I am most interested in are the mental changes that occur. This is what I wanted to see in you. You have obviously gone through substantial changes already, and there will be more physical changes to come, if the past is any predictor, but, for now, your mind is virtually intact.”

“Virtually?” Natalie asked timidly.

“I consider the addiction a form of change, and that is what led you back here, isn’t it?”

Natalie nodded.

“Of course it was. The exciting thing for me is to watch how the mind crumbles after exposure to this hormone, this virus, really.”

“But why me?”

“Because you answered the ad I placed for tenant. After speaking with you, finding out you had been a swimmer, I knew that you were a bright girl with a body that would change dramatically. For my research, I have to have good subjects.”

“That’s all I am to you? Some sort of guinea pig?”

Molly threw back her head and laughed, a deep throaty sound that echoed through the parlor. “Not just a guinea pig, dear. I told you before, I look at all my girls as part of a big family.”

“How many people have you done this to? How many other girls have you… changed?”

“Four so far. Sumi, Nikki, Kati, and you.”

“What about Tiffy?”

“That’s a slightly different story. But, I suppose it would go a long way to answering some of your questions. Believe it or not, Tiffy was a doctor. A scientist…”
TWO YEARS EARLIER

Amber Horner hurried through the wide pathway of the campus, digging through the carryall slung over her shoulder. Her dull brown hair fell in tiny ropes around her narrow face, hitching on the glasses she wore. She gave the strands a dull swipe as a shoulder dug into her, spinning her around. Looking up she was greeted by a sea of backs moving away from her, no one turning to see if the wispy girl was all right.

“Figures,” she muttered, shouldering the bag again and fighting the tide of students as they left the science building. She swam between bodies, finally reaching the doors of the building intact.

A few students still milled around the emptying hallways, chatting with each other, or gathering materials for the weekend that was just a few hours away. Amber knew some football game had been scheduled for the weekend, but she had little interest in the sport and even less in associating with the types of people who would attend it. Her calling was up the stairs to her right and down the hallway.

She clopped up the steps and found a pleasant silence on the second floor. The first floor was generally reserved for classes and a few labs designed for the general population. The second floor was designated for research by the department at the university. Only graduate students or professors who were looking for more grant money or tenure walked these halls, often much like Amber with her head down and her course plotted.

Today, even the usual mix of scientists and scientists-to-be were peculiarly absent, making Amber all the more excited to be entering the lab. No one would disturb her tonight; no one would be there to interfere.

Amber opened the locked door to the lab, the one she had been given after a thesis on gene therapy had opened the doors of the science community to her. She had been fawned over after graduate school, courted by several universities. She had finally chosen the tiny college in Vermont because they had not given her much responsibility to teach, but rather use her where her talents were best applied: research. Her only request had been that she be left alone to study without intrusion from the department until she was prepared to deliver the results of her research. And that research was almost complete.

Amber shrugged off her bag and slipped on one of the hanging lab coats. She pulled her hair back over her collar and adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her long, slim nose, a feature she always found distracting even on her own sallow face. Opening the door of a nearby cooler, she removed a vial of thick white liquid, clinging viscously to the sides of the glass as it shifted in its container. Amber was always surprised by the faint, sweet odor of the fluid, and she had often wondered how the combination of fats and proteins had produced such a pleasant smell.

She carried the vial over to the long table, cluttered with notes scribbled on any available surface, a microscope and a rack of equipment that would have put the laboratory of Dr. Frankenstein to shame. A knock behind her startled her, and her hands trembled slightly as she started, jostling the vial against the counter, shattering it and spilling the liquid onto the counter and dripping in thick drops onto the floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Amber!” a voice called behind her.

Amber shook her hands, spraying a bit of the fluid onto the floor and onto her coat. “Damnit!” Amber turned to face Molly Danvers, her head peeking around the edge of the door, her hair falling over her shoulder, her face pale and beautiful in the light allowed through the lab window.

Molly slipped the rest of the way inside the lab, carefully shutting the door behind her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amber replied, wiping away some of the fluid that had covered her lab coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Just popping in to say hello. You sure you’re okay?”

Amber looked down at her hand and hissed, seeing the blood pooling, then dripping from the palm of her hand. Raising her palm up, she saw the long sliver of glass protruding from her hand. In her cupped palm, she saw the white fluid swirling in the well of red she held.

“Damnit!”

Molly stepped further into the room. “What is it?”

“I cut myself. I’m fine though. Could you get me the first aid kit?”

Molly looked to each wall, spying the metal medical kit, little more than a tin white lunchbox with a red x that hung on the wall. She hurried it over to Amber, opening it. Inside was a jumble of gauze and white-wrapped objects with thin writing emblazoned on the surface.

“What do you need?”

“Just some iodine and a bandage.”

Amber hissed again.

“What?”

“It burns.”

Amber placed her fingers on the sliver and closed her eyes. It was a stereotype, she knew, to be shy of blood, but not all stereotypes were misplaced. Eyes shut tight, she pulled the glass free.

“Here,” Molly said, rushing to Amber’s side. She lifted the tiny bottle of iodine up, unscrewed the cap and turned it over into the plain doctor’s palm.

“Damn, that hurts!” Amber cried, balling her hand into a fist, squeezing her eyes tighter together, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I am so sorry, Amber…”

“It’s okay. Actually, I think it’s feeling better.”

Amber relaxed her hand, holding it over the sink set into the counter. The sink was there for just such an occasion, the water a fine jet that she quickly placed her hand beneath. There was a tingle as the water flowed over her palm, then just the steady pressure of the water.

She opened her eyes, looking down at the wound, then caught her breath in a harsh gasp.

“What is it?” Molly asked, rummaging through the kit for a large bandage.

“Umm. Nothing I guess.”

Molly looked up, her search temporarily suspended. “What?”

Amber held the hand up in front of her, the smooth skin of her palm unmolested, smooth and perfect.

“That’s weird,” she murmured.

“What is?” Molly asked, the exasperation and curiosity evident in her voice.

“This…” Amber showed her hand to Molly, her unblemished palm raised.

Molly stopped dead. “But it was just…”

“I know.” Amber’s face morphed from concern to joy. “Do you know what this means?”

“I… I guess not.”

“It works. The formula works.” Amber giggled in joy. “I’ve done it! The growth hormone works. It healed it instantly!”

Molly took a step back, even as Amber’s laughter grew.

“So much for the board saying I was a waste of funds. This will change everything, Molly! No more stitches or corrective plastic surgery. This will take the pace of every skin cleanser, suture and bandage.”

Molly took another step back, her mouth agape as she looked on Amber.

“I’ve changed the world!” she cried, holding her own hand as if it were a foreign object, a discovery to behold.

“Ummm…. Amber?”

Amber looked up from her reverie.

“What?”

“You need to look in a mirror.”

“What are you talking about?”

Amber spun and looked at the mirror hanging on the far wall. Even at a distance, she saw that something had changed. She squinted, her eyes through her glasses, unable to make out the figure staring back at her in the mirror.

“You’re changing.”

Amber squinted harder, even as the shape opposite her grew hazier, less distinct. She pulled the glasses from the bridge of her nose, and everything became crystal.

“My eyes are even better,” she grinned, triumphant. Then, her own voice caught in her throat. The face staring back at her was not the same as the one she had stared back at for so many years. The face was the same, that was true, but the hair that framed it was… different. Her hair, once flat and dully brown, had taken on volume, lightened. In fact, it was quickly changing from brown to auburn to a dirty blonde.

“Amber?” Molly asked tentatively, taking a step closer.

Amber smiled. “It’s pretty…”

A hand rose, drifting through the hair as it lightened more, becoming a luminescent blonde. Her hand tossed the hair up, and watched it fall, lengthening to fall to below her neck.

Amber smiled at her reflection, seeing the narrow face flesh out, her cheeks seeming to buckle, disappear, then rise up, making her cheeks swell and fall on the now full face. Her lips darkened healthily, no longer pale and wrinkled, but full, pouty, lips that begged to be touched, kissed, worshipped. Her eyes, always attentive and bright, paled to a sharp blue, a spark dancing behind them that was less intellectual than hungry.

Molly felt her jaw drop a little, seeing the doctor appear to simply melt into this new face. What was once a meek doctor named Amber Horner was now a gorgeous blonde woman staring at herself in the mirror.

“Amber?”

The doctor giggled at her reflection before turning to face Molly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel okay?”

The blonde tilted her head quizzically, the smile spreading on her face. Molly was almost ashamed to admit to herself that this new Amber was making her stomach flutter, so beautiful was the new version of her. Though she had never been much more than an acquaintance of Amber’s, she was beginning to think that a quick romp with this blonde might be a wonderful way to begin the weekend.

Amber giggled again. It was a honey-sweet sound, unapologetic and vacant.

“I feel great! Did you see my hair, Molly? See how pretty it is?”

“Yes, I did. That’s what sort of has me worried, Amber. What exactly did that stuff do to you?”

Amber frowned, her brows lowering a little, her lower lip pushing out. Molly was amazed to see that even the look of concern Amber affected was more of a sexy pout. Her mind reeled with the changes she was seeing, a smile creeping to her lips.

“I dunno,” Amber said, her lip almost quivering.

“It’s okay, Amber, but I want you to explain to me what that fluid is exactly.”

Amber frowned deeper, her lip retracting. She was clearly trying to turn the wheels in her mind, but the works were getting gummed up, assumedly by the fluid that had changed her face and hair. Molly’s smile widened a bit. What would be the use of some potion that turned an average, even ugly, girl into a vision of beauty, and dimmed them intellectually to boot?

“I… Like, I made it.”

“I know you did, honey, but I want to know what’s in it.”

Amber bit her full lower lip, concentrating.

“I can’t remember.” She looked like she would cry.

“It’s okay, Amber.”

‘Damn,’ Molly thought. So much for her dreams of a beauty cream empire, or, at the very least a nice way to get back at a couple of the people on campus who she felt had slighted her. She looked at the remaining liquid pooled on the counter, a few scattered drops that swirled with milky whiteness.

“I think maybe we should get you out of here.”

“Huh?”

Molly smiled. “I’m taking you home with me for the night, Amber. We’ll see if we can’t help you remember better.”

The blonde perked up at this, her smile wide as it had ever been. “Okay!” The blonde strolled to Molly, taking her by the hand and looking up at her eagerly. Molly grinned at how the once quiet Dr. Amber Horner had shed her old appearance and all sense of herself as well. The hand she held was not that of a doctor, but of a giggly coed.

“Do you know my name, Amber?”

The blonde tittered. “Of course, silly! You’re Molly!”

“That’s right. Would you like to spend the night with me?”

A light blush colored Amber’s cheeks. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Good girl,” Molly grinned, giving Amber’s hand a tug and leading her out of the lab and down the hallway.

Molly was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine from a bottle in the fridge when she heard the crash from the living room. She had left Amber alone there after the drive back from campus, smiling to herself at the promise of exploring the girl’s body. Amber still wore her plain clothes, and Molly had not even bothered to remove the lab coat yet. In fact, she liked the idea of removing it just before luring her into the bedroom, like unwrapping a gift on Christmas morning. The tinkling of glass from the parlor, though, had halted her reverie and forced her to scurry through the large hallway to the parlor.

Amber had collapsed onto the floor, the lab coat hiked up her waist, her legs curled beside her.

“Amber, what’s wrong?!” Molly asked, rushing to her side.

Amber looked up at Molly with a look of confusion, mingled with unbridled lust, and Molly realized that the girl’s hands were at her the split of her dark pants, rubbing her mound through the material.

“I don’t know… I feel weird…”

Molly took a step back from the girl writhing on her floor, her heel cracking on the broken glass of a decanter toppled over when Amber collapsed to the floor. Her heel twisted on the glass, and Molly felt herself falling backwards, landing hard on her bottom, propping herself up on both hands.

Amber rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself up from the floor and looking up with a predatory smile at Molly. She stood, her hands clawing at the front of the lab coat.

“God, it’s so hot in here…”

Molly felt a moment of panic. This girl had gone from a quiet, happy, docile thing to something else. Molly realized very quickly that the changes to the former Doctor Amber had not yet finished.

Amber pawed at the lapels of the coat until the buttons holding it together finally gave, one popping completely off and rolling away. Beneath, her simple sweater was beginning to swell and bulge. She closed her eyes and released a sigh of pleasure that made Molly hold her breath, Amber’s hands clawing at the growing sweater. Her tongue slipped from her mouth and rolled over her lips, her hands finally reaching down to the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head. Beneath, Molly could see the girl’s stomach flatten and tone, her hips widening as her waist thinned. Her breasts were growing as well, the flesh pushing over the cups of the bra she wore, and Amber’s hands rolled over them, pulling the cups down and freeing them. As they bounced free, Molly could see them visibly swelling, the nipples widening and hardening simultaneously. Amber’s hands came back up, cupping her swollen breasts and pressing them into herself. The pants she wore were getting very snug around the hips, and Molly could see that the seat of the pants were filling out as well.

Molly crab-walked backwards, moving further away fro Amber as she lost herself in her new flesh. She knew the door to the hallway was just behind her, an escape route, if necessary, she thought. The blonde was still occupied by her own changing body, and Molly couldn’t take her eyes away from the girl’s large breasts, whose growth had seemed to stop, but not before swelling easily into E-cup territory. What was most striking, however, were the white liquid tendrils that pooled on Amber’s fingers and over her knuckles. When she squeezed them, Molly could see a fine jet of what could have been milk spray from her nipples.

“Amber?” Molly asked quietly, unsure now if she wanted the girl to respond at all. Something told her that the girl was not only incredibly beautiful, but equally dangerous.

When she looked up after the voice, Molly knew that whatever had been Amber Horner was gone. This voluptuous woman in front of her was a new person, a vision of pure sexuality, her long wavy blonde hair spilling down her back, the face of a goddess with fine blue eyes, the full mouth, her skin healthy and fresh, breasts that pushed from her chest, revealed now as Amber dropped her hands away from the, little spots of milk still growing at the tips of her nipples, then falling to the floor in heavy drops. They shadowed her narrow waist, leading down to the curves of her hips and a shapely bottom that was finally freed as Amber unbuttoned and slid down the pants that once constrained her. She stepped out of them slowly, towards Molly.

“Yes?” the blonde replied. The word stretched for an eternity, sliding from her tongue in a high whisper that sounded nothing like Amber, but exactly what this buxom blonde should sound like.

“Are you all right?” Molly crawled back a bit more, feeling her shoulders strike the wall behind her, and raised herself up, her hands lifting her frame up as they climbed.

The girl grinned, her hands rubbing her flat belly as she took another step towards Molly. “I feel wonnnnderrrrrfulllll,” she cooed. Even as she said it, another fat droplet of milk fell to the floor. Her hands drifted up again to her breasts, rubbing over them, and molly could see a light sheen coat them as the milk trailed up their surface. She giggled, raising a finger to her mouth and sucking at the wet finger. As her lips closed on her finger, her eyes shut and a look of pure bliss washed over her face. When her eyes reopened, they were hazier, unfocussed. “Mmmmmmmmm…”

Molly reached to her left, feeling the door frame and mentally plotting her flight through the house.

The girl moved closer, swaying her ass seductively from side to side as she popped the finger from her mouth. “This is so yummy.” She finished with a giggle and took another step. “You wanna little lick?”

Molly mustered the calmest smile she possessed. “I would, but could we do it in the other room?”

Amber giggled. “Mmmmm-hmmm. We can do it wherever you want, just promise you’ll gimme a good looong suck,” she smiled, lifting her breasts in lewd presentation.

“I promise you’ll get just what you need, honey,” Molly smiled and gestured with her finger to Amber in a curling come hither motion, slipping into the hallway. She led the blonde down the hallway, towards a bedroom in the back with an antique lock on the door, the ancient key still jutting from the hole. She just hoped the lock would hold.

From outside the door, Molly could hear the moans of the girl, her sounds muffled by the thick wood. Despite the filter between her and the blonde locked inside, Molly could make out the silky moans, mingled with the soft giggles that both excited and terrified Molly. Through the keyhole, Molly could see the girl writhing on the floor, one hand squeezing her heavy breast, milk dribbling from the tip in a steady flow, her other hand pressed against the bare flesh above her slit, her fingers sliding in and out as she pleased herself. Molly could feel the tingle between her own legs at the overt sexuality of the girl, the lustiness, the single-mindedness of the girl.

Molly felt herself lean against the door, closing her eyes as she listened to the murmurs of pleasure that drifted under the door. Smiling softly, she could smell the faintest hint of strawberries. She wondered what the milk would taste like, if it would taste like sweet fruit, or if she would even care when the first drop hit her tongue. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of yet another orgasm from the girl inside, an explosion of screaming, followed by soft panting. Here was always a brief pause, she had learned.

“Amber?”

A giggle.

“You okay?”

“Tiffy’s lonely…”

“Who?”

“Tiffy.” A pause. “Me, silly!”

Molly couldn’t stifle the grin. Whatever was behind this door was no longer Amber Horner. What was left, this mindless, horny, voluptuous blonde who dribbled milk from her constantly-erect nipples, was in need of company. Molly grinned at the idea. How many women who had come across her path and had wronged her deserved such a fate? The girl who had first rejected her advances in college after coming onto her in class… The professor across the hall at the university who took credit for all her ideas… The possibilities were limitless. Molly asked herself why she would do such a thing, doom some poor girl to Tiffy’s fate. The answer, a sly voice deep in her subconscious whispered, is because you can.

Molly rapped gently on the door. “Be patient, Tiffy. We’ll have company for you very soon. I promise.”

Natalie could not believe the cruelty Molly displayed in the telling of the story, the complete lack of conscience at the imprisonment of Tiffy in this house. Then the assumed traps she laid for other girls, whoever Sumi and Kati and Nikki had been before their introduction to Molly and her transformed colleague.

Natalie tried to scowl at Molly, still prone on the couch, one arm draped over her curled legs. The result was a nearly comical pout.

“Upset, hon?” Molly smiled. “I’ve discovered that as your body goes through its changes, the manipulation of the body goes even to the musculature. Soon, your face will be completely unable to frown, or cry, or wince. Those muscles atrophy, so that you’re only able to smile and giggle. But, I admire your effort. Soon enough, you won’t have much to frown about, anyway.”

“Please, just let me go,” Natalie sighed.

“You’re free to. Have a wonderful life. But my guess is, as soon as the cramps return, you’ll be right back. But by all means leave. I love watching the struggle.”

Natalie felt a single tear fall from her eye.

Molly grinned wider.

“Oh, Nikki!” Molly called, leaning back over the couch towards the door.

Natalie could hear the steady ticking o high heels on the tiled floor of the hallway, growing steadily closer. Within her, she felt a rumble, not unlike hunger pangs one might get after skipping a lunch, but much deeper, more encompassing. It was like she could smell the sweet fruit scent of the milk, even before Nikki appeared. She wondered absently what Nikki’s name had been before, this thought interrupted quickly as the girl turned the corner, stepping into the room.

She was dressed for seduction, a halter top that was lifted from her stomach by the size of her breasts, as well as the size of the top to begin with. The lavender skirt she wore barely covered the curve of her ass, her legs slim and long in the heels that were so tall that they appeared to end in points, strapped in alternating bands up to her knees. At the sight of her, Natalie felt a low moan escape her. She could see the two dark, wet circles that stained the front of Nikki’s top, and the scent Natalie found herself consumed by more and more filled her nostrils.

“I’m sure you’re hungry, Natalie,” Molly grinned. “Go on, honey, I know this is why you came back.”

Natalie felt herself stand without thinking, the sweet fruity smell filling her nostrils, her mind fogging as a phantom taste of the warm milk filled her mouth. A small moan escaped.

Molly stood as well, taking Molly by the hand and pulling her close to Nikki. “You two girls go on and have fun. I’ll call you for dinner later.”

Nikki reached out a long-nailed hand and took Natalie’s in her own, entwining her fingers. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but merely giggled instead. To Natalie, the sound was as beautiful and delicate as the tinkling of crystal. She did not see Molly leave the room, here eyes fixed on the wet stains spreading across Nikki’s top. She reached a hand out to touch one breast, and felt Nikki’s sharp intake of breath as her breast received its caress.

Nikki wrapped her arms around Natalie’s back, pressing the young girl against her, and Natalie could feel her new body respond quickly to the heat coming off the girl. Natalie’s eyes slipped closed, her legs limp as she felt a wave of pleasure roll through her, like the first waves before a volcanic orgasm. She felt herself slip to her knees, her hands sliding down Nikki’s legs on her journey to the floor. Natalie could feel more and more of herself slipping away, her instincts taking over more, the slickness between her leg, her thighs rubbing against one another, hiding that pussy that ached for attention. Her own breasts felt heavy and the lightest brush against them, even through the sweater, sent fireworks before her eyes.

When she gathered herself enough to open her eyes, she was greeted with Nikki’s empty smile… Nikki, who had also lowered herself to her knee before Natalie… Nikki, who lifted her top to expose her enormous breasts, thin rivulets of milk leaking from each nipple, running down the long curves of her breasts. Natalie gasped as the sight and smell overwhelmed her, her mouth leaning closer, her tongue flicking out to lap at the thin stream of milk.

The taste was heaven, her body quaking with pleasure as the milk coated her mouth. Natalie could resist no longer, leaning into Nikki, he mouth opening wide and closing on the nipple, her hands reaching up to grasp the breast, squeeze it. She found that gently massaging the breast would send a jet into her mouth, and Natalie drank greedily. She could faintly hear Nikki cooing as she drank, then even that faded away until all that was left was the soft sound of her sucking and the tingling euphoria that gripped her. And for a while, Natalie was no more.

THAT SWEET CREAMY TASTE

The sweet creamy taste was still in Natalie’s mouth when she came to. She could hardly call it waking, her head was still so cloudy, so full of a thick fog of sensation. Her body was screaming in need and want, tingling all over so intensely she felt as though her skin was on fire. Natalie rolled to her side, feeling her legs slip into space and she sat upright, her chest heavy and full, her hands involuntarily rising to cup them. She was nude, somehow, and she couldn’t recall how that had happened, only that her skin was bare and in dire need of attention from someone. If it must be her own hands, so be it.

Her fingers spread wide, feeling the hot flesh spill between them, running them up to the enlarged nipples, squeezing them, twisting, her pussy suddenly flooded at the sensation. The need that arose there now deserved at least one hand, and, while fingers toyed with a nipple, her other hand drifted between her legs, sliding a finger along her swollen, puffy lips, collecting the moisture that was pooling there, sliding up to coat her thin patch of blonde hair with the slick oils of her lust. She shut her eyes tight as her fingers coated her mound in juices, diving back inside her, curling against the gooey walls of her sex. When she came, quickly, explosively, she found her fingers in her mouth, sucking the taste of her pussy from them. There was no hesitation, no conscious thought to do so, only the need to taste, to feel, to lick.

As the waves of pleasure rolled slowly back to allow some semblance of reason, Natalie looked about the room, blushing that she had found pleasing herself far more important than where she was. Her hands continued to idly stroke her body, her breasts, gently, her stomach, her face. She was startled to find that she was not in any room she recognized, not the pink-hued apartment where the journey had begun, not the rooms of Molly’s hoe that she was familiar with. This was somewhere else, though clearly a bedroom of some kind. The room was sparsely decorated, with only a wide bed pressed against one wall upon which Natalie sat, a dresser with a wide mirror sitting atop it, and a wardrobe to her right. The furnishings were solid and ornate without being gaudy, and the dresser displayed a wide variety of make-up and brushes. It was the bedroom of a kept girl, and, Natalie supposed, that was what she was, now.

She attempted to get angry at the thought, or to feel sorrow at the thought that she would never again see her friends or family. Even if she did, they would never recognize her in her current state. She stood, tottering for a moment and almost falling back to the bed, her feet crying out as she planted them flat on the floor. She scoured the floor for something that would support them, finding a pair of black heels, the patent leather shining. She cooed admiring them, then shook her head, trying to remain focused, at least until she could get dressed again. She slid a narrow foot into each heel and stood, the angle of her feet and ankles far more comfortable…

Natalie approached the mirror, the height of her heels giving her ass a sway that she enjoyed, and she found herself exaggerating the rocking of her hips for the sheer thrill of it. She giggled a little at the back and forth motion of her new body, looking at the blue eyes staring back at her. Her face was rounder than it had been, cheeks plump, the ruby lips pouty and full. She ran her pale tongue over them, sending a shiver through her pussy. Her skin was slightly darker, like the first hint of a tan, her waist thin and suggesting well-toned muscles beneath a playful pudge, her breasts large, impossibly firm, the nipples prominent against perfectly formed aureole. The mound that had once been full and dark was now little more than a strip of hair, very blonde, as was the hair on her head, which curled as it reached the small of her back. Taking a step back, Natalie appraised her round ass, with its curves that matched the flare of her hips. She reached down to stroke her sex again, admiring the long nails that tipped her fingers… she would need them painted, she mused.

“Like, I need clothes,” she said, eyes widening at the high-pitched trill of her voice. “That’s not what I sound like, is it?”

It was. High, flighty, the voice of the addled-brained cheerleaders she had mocked in high school. And now, here she was, looking more doll-ish than any of them had, her fingers knuckle-deep in her own pussy, unable to stop touching herself. It was as though her new body screamed to be used, to try out all its new tricks, and there would be so many, she knew.

Distracted again… get dressed, she kept telling herself, just cover yourself up before someone comes in and sees her like this, helpless to the touch of her own flesh.

She opened the bureau’s top drawer and found bras and panties, none demure. All the panties were thongs, or, if not, had words like ‘Bimbo’ or ‘Slut’ stretched across the rear. She wondered where they had been purchased and if it was Molly who had bought them. Of course, it must have been. She was responsible for all of this.

Natalie slipped on a black thong before realizing that it was sheer, showing her slim pubis in shadowy detail. She found the matching bra, also sheer, more for effect than support. Surprisingly, her breasts seemed to rest easily and without drooping on her chest without the bra. She admired the way her nipples pushed the sheer material out, creating miniature tents under the material. She resisted, surprisingly, the urge to twist those nipples again, but she knew what that would lead to. She had to attempt to maintain some sort of control.

The drawer beneath was full of garters and stockings, but Natalie had no desire to tease herself this way at the moment, not when the slightest touch seemed to be able to set her off… not when she could feel more coherent, more herself.

She crossed to the wardrobe and opened it wide, taking a breath at the sheer number of dresses, skirts and tops that had been crammed into the space. It was a menagerie of slut-dom, every item meant to accentuate, display and tease the wearer. When her hand caressed a silk top, her pussy called to her anew, craving the feel of it against her skin. Probably not wise to follow that instinct, so she found a knit top that was less exotic. The top was a bit too small, and, as she pulled it over her head, she found that it lifted her breasts up in pink splendor, her cleavage high and prominent. Even with a simple black mini, she found that her waist remained exposed, as were her long legs. She would have been presentable in public, but just barely.

Natalie now considered her options. She was clearly addicted to the milk; there was no argument, no reflection. She wanted more now, wanted to lose herself again and drink and drink and drink, but that was the road to ruin. Even one more drop and she may lose herself forever. Even now, Natalie had so changed she wasn’t sure what sort of life she could expect in the future. A stripper, perhaps, and the thought made her giggle, and a little spark went off in her clit again, turning the giggle into a lusty sigh. The slightest sexual thought seemed to set her off, now, too, and that was dangerous, Natalie knew. She had to find a way out, but the pain of the milk withdrawals would bring her back again. She could take her own life, she supposed, at least die with the scraps of her own life within her. But was the fate of Nikki and Sumi a fate worse than death. They certainly wouldn’t say so. In fact, they would only giggle and begin to touch and lick and kiss and drink from each other…

Natalie’s hands crept to her breasts again and she quickly pushed them back to her sides. Perhaps she was truly lost. She was having to fight her own impulses, alone in a bare room, without the temptations of the jiggly, milky girls beyond the door, besides the siren call of Molly’s voice, carving reason from the chaos of her mind. Another flight from the place, then, the only real possibility. Maybe she could fight through the pain, after all.

Her plans for escape were interrupted by the opening of the door, the heavy wood swinging inward, accompanied by the click of heels on wood. Natalie was somewhat relieved to see that it was Molly, and not one of the other girls. At least, for now, she would not be lost in the sweet milk.

“My my my,” she said, clapping her hands together and lacing her fingers, “You look glorious, Natalie. Or is it something else now?”

“No, like, I’m Natalie,” she asserted, hearing the casual inclusion of ‘like’ in her words again. She couldn’t stop.

“Are you, dear? And how do you like your new body?”

Natalie wanted to scream at the smug woman, hurl one of the brushes from the bureau her, tell her that she had made Natalie’s body a minefield of entrapment.

“I love my boobies and everything tingles sooo good.”

Natalie tried to frown at the words that appeared, uncertain if they were her own thoughts or something else dastardly Molly or one of the others had done while she was sleeping.

“That is so nice to hear, Natalie. I know you are eager to join the other girls, and they are so looking forward to spending more time with you. Soon enough, you’ll be making milk for them to taste, too. They tell me each girl’s is slightly different. That’s a question for you another time, however.”

“Nikki tastes, like, sweet.”

‘No!’ her mind screamed behind the blue eyes and blonde hair, that is not what she had intended to say. She didn’t mean to say anything. Was this what it was like for the others? Mind awake in a betrayer’s body, unable to speak one’s own thoughts any longer, a slave to gibberish spilling from lips, body enslaved by the lust that runs forever through it.

“I am so glad you like her. She’s quite taken with you, too.” Molly took a step forward and leaned to look into Natalie’s eyes. “Oh, you are still in there, aren’t you? How yummy. This happened with Sumi, as well. For days, her old memories held on, her old personality. She was unable to express it, of course, the changes to her speech centers were irreversible and vast at that point. It was days before her eyes got that dreamy look of the other girls.” Natalie felt her own eyes widen. “Oh, did you think it wouldn’t happen to you? That you would just be trapped behind those eyes? No, no, eventually everything that was Natalie will be gone, and you’ll forget you even answered to that name. Soon, you’ll tell me your real name. I wonder what it will be. I don’t know how you girls chose them, but you do. It’s fascinating.”

“I’m, like, Natalie,” she chirped insistently.

“For now, pet. Come, time to play before dinner.”

Natalie could not resist. Her legs were moving forward, hips swiveling, before she could imagine running.

Sumi was setting the table for dinner, wearing a frilled apron and spiked heels and nothing else. The apron straps strained at the bulge of her chest, and her ass was revealed prominently every time she bent to place the silverware.

Nikki and Kati were teasing one another on the couch in the wide sitting room, their legs intertwined. Kati wore all pink: skirt, halter top, stockings and garters, heels, hair tied in pigtails with pink ribbons. Her hands were on either side of Nikki’s face, kissing her deeply and with abandon, pausing only to inhale sharply, then resume the kiss. Nikki’s white silk top had been pushed roughly up, and, even from this distance, Natalie could see the white drops still clinging to her nipples. Nikki’s hands were moving over Kati’s breasts, coaxing the sweet cream out, their hips grinding against one another, eyes shut, writhing. It was enough to make Natalie weak-kneed, and the rest f her body followed when Nikki broke Kati’s kiss and looked at her.

“Girls,” Molly said, “Yumi is setting the table for dinner, but I’m sure Natalie would like to play a little before we eat.”

Kati giggled, still moving against Nikki, who shifted to make room on the wide sofa.

“Go on, pet,” Molly said, giving Natalie a playful swat on the rear.

She should run, should flee as best she could, throw herself into the street and end it all if that’s what it came to. Her mind spun, sensing the hopelessness of these thoughts even as her body moved forward, approached the two girls, her soon-to-be sisters, whose eyes drew her closer. The smell of the milk reached her, causing her pussy to release new juices, a flood of slickness barely contained by her labia, reader to split and offer its bounty. Closer still, Nikki reaching out to her now. If she takes her hand, Natalie knew, there would be no more opportunity to escape, to try to piece a life together outside this. He remembered the feeling of diving into cool water, her lithe body cutting through the water, leaving behind a trail of bubbles. The rush as her body moved freely through the pool, twirling beneath the surface, hovering somersaults.

Nikki’s hand grasped hers and Natalie moaned as Molly looked on from the corner of the room. Natalie allowed herself to be drawn onto the sofa, pressing against Nikki’s side as Kati’s leg hooked around her own. Nikki bent and kissed Natalie, slipping her tongue inside, exploring. Natalie could taste Kati’s milk, still lingering from an event that Natalie could only imagine.

Kati reached lower, tugging at the skirt she wore, slipping her hand beneath and stroking the sheer material covering her waiting nether lips, sending spasms of pleasure through Natalie. Nikki raised from Natalie’s kiss and shifted, positioning her breast over Natalie’s mouth, teasing her as it hovered a foot over her mouth. Natalie arched her back, her tongue sliding past the borders of her mouth, willing the breast closer. Nikki giggled, and Natalie found herself giggling, too, hands moving all over her body, unsure whose anymore, only that they were stroking, kneading, clawing, pushing her skirt down til it slipped from her legs onto the floor, her top lifted over her breasts, the bra unclasped now, the swollen nipples standing erect as another hand ran over one nipple, pausing, pulling it gently. Natalie’s own hands found a breast, Kati’s, she thought, and worshipped it with her strokes, another clawing hair that flowed through her fingers like sand.

Natalie found no room to argue, no line of thinking that didn’t include the thoughts ‘more, more, more.’ And, finally, a drop fell from Nikki into Natalie’s waiting mouth, the sweetness making her cum for the first time that day, the sheer panties now stained with fluid, sticky to the touch. Nikki moaned along with the new sister, dropping to allow her mouth to close around the nipple and suck, suck, suck. The milk flowed into Natalie’s mouth, quickly down her throat, passing into her stomach, absorbed into her bloodstream, making its final adjustments… lips slightly fuller, hair almost white-blonde, labia more swollen, easy to part, easy to fuck, into her breasts where the glands began their own production, to the brain where it searched out the last memories of Natalie and replaced them with lust and want and love for her sisters, for Molly who had made her so perfect and happy.

She broke from Nikki’s nipple, milk dribbling down her chin, tongue playing over the skin of her sister, hands roaming, petting, pausing when a touch elicited a moan to continue to stroke or pet there, exploring the wet crevice of one of her sisters waiting pussy. It didn’t matter whose, only that she was with them, pleased them. As she felt another orgasm rip through her abdomen, a thick white droplet formed at her nipple, growing, undulating as it grew, then collapsed down the side of her breast, leaving a pale white tendril, followed by another and another. Nikki saw the droplets form and spill, drawing her body up to lick at her sister, taste the new milk that the family would share. It was sweet, like all of their tastes, but with a slight saltiness that made Nikki crave it’s difference all the more. Beneath her, Nikki could feel her sister cum again as she provided for the family for the first time, sending Nikki into a fit of lust, rubbing hard against her.

“Girls, girls, that’s enough, now!” Molly called, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Time for dinner. Come on Kati and Nikki.”

The two rose, their clothes still disheveled and partially removed as they strolled to the table Yumi had set for them.

“You, too, Natalie,” Molly said, smiling at the girl, her hair tangled, breasts exposed, panties thick and black with the residue of her passion.

The girl tilted her head quizzically at Molly, struggling to make sense of her words.

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked.

“I’m Becki.”

“Of course you are,” Molly smiled and crossed to help the girl to her feet. “Let’s get you some dinner, Becki.”

Becki made her way up the steps to the apartment over the garage, careful in the heels she wore, the small padlocks on the straps thrumming against her ankles. The frilly black skirt she wore, the tight black corset, the black and white cap, gave her the appearance of a maid, a look Molly loved and it also happened to fit the day’s tasks. The duster and cleaning supplies she carried with her kept her thoughts off her pussy and how long it had been since Nikki had been attending to it. Almost a full day.

Becki opened the door and began her cleaning, moaning as she saw that her top was getting wetter by the moment. Ever since Sumi had promised to give Becki some of her milk at breakfast, Becki hadn’t been able to stop leaking. She paused, drawing her hand inside the top and collected as much as she could before bringing her hand to her mouth so she could lick it off. Becki would never tell, but she thought her own milk tasted the best. Giggling, she returned to her work, which molly had written for her on a note, but Becki couldn’t make it out… instead, she listened and remembered as best she could. She had to hurry. A new sister would be arriving tonight, and Molly had promised it was Becki’s milk that would change her. Becki smiled proudly, her top beginning to darken with milk.