Suzanna Briggs fixed her hair. The tight bun she had spent much of the morning styling was coming undone. It had been one of those days. She made her way to her desk, past the endless rows of beige cubicles. Stuck to the wall of her cubicle was a speedily prepared flyer advertising “Amanda’s Going Away Party.” Amanda was the third woman to leave the company since Suzanna had been hired eight months ago. And while that may have raised flags for some women, Suzanna was plenty comfortable in her workplace. Suzanna tossed the flyer into the shredder, having hardly known Amanda, and sat down at her desk and began her work for the day.

Time slowed and the day dragged on. Suzanna gazed at the clock beside her computer monitor. The red LED glared back at her: 11:50 AM. She sighed. It was apparently just the start of one of those days. She had felt unusually tired today. Her morning routine was off and she had abused the snooze button thoroughly.

Rather than fall asleep at her desk, Suzanna made the decision to take a quick break outdoors. If only she could find her ‘emergency’ pack of cigarettes she hid in her office. A-ha! Behind her favorite stuffed monkey on her desk’s return. She grabbed the pack and fished out a most likely stale smoke. Having quit the nasty habit for over a month now, she was proud of her progress and mentally chastised herself for breaking so easily over a little case of exhaustion. She pressed ctrl + alt + delete and locked her computer, grabbed her thin black shawl from the back of her computer chair and made her way towards the elevator.

Suzanna’s black professional heels clicked and clacked throughout the eighth floor that Into-Tech Industries occupied in the office building. She would usually have clacked down the stairs. Her sleepy state forced her to accept the elevator, lest she snooze off and fall down a flight of stairs.

Once on the ground floor, she made her way through the glass entrance doors. She inhaled deeply and tried to revive herself with fresh air instead of smoke. It didn’t work. Off to her right, next to the building, was a small vendor stand. Funny, I haven’t seen that here before, Suzanna puzzled to herself.

She stuck her unlit cigarette behind her ear and walked toward the cart. It looked like any other vendor cart in a major commercial setting. One part ice-cream truck, one part hot dog stand, all parts grungy and disgusting. Suzanna decided to take a look anyway. Maybe she’d find something to boost her energy instead of breaking into her smoking habit. She approached the cart and read the hand written menu, when she was startled by a man’s voice.

“Tired, are ya?” the voice cracked, but Suzanna couldn’t place the source. She looked around for a moment and then spied a portly man with a white t-shirt that didn’t hide his spare tire very well. The shirt advertised a band that Suzanna was sure had broken up over 10 years ago.
“Excuse me?” Suzanna retorted.

“I asked if you was tired.” He stated.

“Umm…I suppose. But that’s really none of your business.” Suzanna replied embarrassed that her condition was so apparent.

“Course it is! It’s the business of any highly trained salesperson, such as me, to know da customers.” He stated confidently as he lugged long, large crates out of the back of the truck and set them on the ground beside his feet.

Suzanna looked over the menu once more and did not find anything, sans “Coffee- Black $1.25,” that would help her condition. The thought of what brown-black sludge she would be served, sent a shiver down her spine and she nixed the idea quickly. Suzanna cursed herself again for forgetting to set the automatic drip timer on her cappuccino machine.

The man piped up, “If you is looking for something to wake yourself up, give ‘dis a whirl.” He chucked a small bottle at Suzanne. In an effort to catch the small canister, she had to jerk her head so fast her cigarette fell to the ground. She didn’t notice.
She inspected the tiny object. It was the size of a liquor store flu-shot, those small sips of alcohol that a patron buys cheaply. They were also prevalent in mini-bars in hotel rooms that Suzanna had stayed in on business trips. The label looked homemade, like someone had used very basic software and stuck label paper in a printer. There were very few technical specifications and even less nutritional specifications. In bright green, block letters it read: ENERGY GULP! There was a paragraph of information on the powerful energy supplied by the little beverage. It was mostly advertisement mumbo-jumbo, nothing of any merit or science.

“Energy Gulp?” Suzanna read out loud.

“You never heard of it?” The man approached her. She smelt suntan lotion, cigarettes and body odor.

“No, should I have?”

The man put on his best salesman show and became very demonstrative. “Well, of course. It’s only the best energy drink in town! Screw those however-many hours energy drinks, this lil puppy got them all beat. Half the size of its competitors with twice as much…punch.” He was very animated. Suzanna thought she had discovered who had bought the software and label paper.

“This is something you make? Personally?”

“Shiiiiiiiit, no. I’m just the only guy the creator trusts to distr…dibur….to sell the stuff.” He boasted.
Suzanna raised an eyebrow. She was just about to put the small object back into the man’s greasy hand when he spoke again.

“First one’s free.” He quipped.

Suzanna looked at it again. Seeing how the man didn’t have 4 or 5 hour energy drinks available, Suzanna shrugged and shoved the tiny capsule into her pant pocket. She gave a mumbled thanks, spun around and headed for the doors.

“One is all it takes most folks, cause it works so good!” The man called out to her as she made her way back into the office building. Suzanna muttered a thank you and began to walk away from the vendor’s stand. The vendor reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone. He had an important call to make.

* * *

The young, fit professional sat waiting for her elevator. It was taking much longer than usual. That’s when Suzanna decided to try her free gift out. She pulled the tiny bottle from her pocket. The cap was the same color green as the writing on the label. She popped it open with her thumb and peered into the white bottle. The substance inside was definitely green. Lemon-lime, at least it’s a flavor I can stand, she mused to herself.

Without much ado, she tipped the bottle back and downed the whole bottle in one swallow.

Suzanna didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t feel a surge of energy run through her. She didn’t feel a jittery bolt of electricity. In fact, she felt nothing. She would have been more pissed off, but she remembered that she wasn’t out any money. And besides, she told herself, those other energy drinks cost so much for so little.

She did, however, convince herself that the stairs were a good idea and when she reached the eighth floor without so much as a pant or wheeze she remembered that she hadn’t smoked. She gave herself a mental high-five and returned to her quiet desk.

She did feel much more energized. It took a little bit over an hour to notice anything, but she hadn’t dozed off at all. The clock read 3:02 PM. She had made a lot of progress in her revisions of her team members’ work. She had made so much progress she thought about rewarding herself.

Without any thought at all, she clicked on her internet browser and typed in the name of her favorite erotic story site. She took a few moments to see if any new Sapphic stories had appeared. She didn’t know if she was a confirmed lesbian yet, she just knew that a man hadn’t provided her with what she needed for a long time. Just when she was about to click on a story entitled something like ‘Wet Works,’ which had the story tags she was definitely into, she paused.
What am I doing? She quickly closed the browser and sat stunned in her chair. Her company tracked internet usage. How could she have been so careless? She quickly tried to remember all the fast and easy ways for the company to know where she had been. She cleared her browser history, deleted cache files, cookies and anything she could get access to. Suzanna realized she was panting now. She tried to calm down. She breathed in slow and deep. She began to rationalize. Surely she couldn’t be the only employee that looked at porn at work. Heck, she figured, I might be the only one looking at text stories instead of hogging bandwidth with videos. She wouldn’t get in trouble, but she dared not go any further.

Unfortunate for Suzanna, she did feel a certain level of heat in between her thighs. She rubbed them together for a few moments and then quickly dashed off to the ladies room to alleviate the building arousal in her loins. After a satisfying climax in the stall of the lavatory for the rest of the day Suzanna was awake; bored, but awake.

* * *

Suzanna slammed her brown bag lunch on her desk. She was late and that always infuriated her. She had a case of drowsiness that she just couldn’t shake. The hair that was usually styled perfectly into a tight bun now lay collected in a loose, wet ponytail. She had allowed herself just enough to shower and dress before racing to beat beltway traffic; the hair dryer never even got plugged in.

As Suzanna poured through the latest figures and specifications, her head bobbed. Her eyelids drooped. She reached toward the monkey on her desk. The stuffed animal stood like a sentry defending the cigarettes from the army of nic-fitting invaders. Suzanna overpowered the stuffed animal guard and took a cig from the pack and returned the pack to its hidden post.

When she hit the outdoors, Suzanna popped the cancer stick into her mouth. Before she could light it, she saw the vendor again. Her mouth dropped open and the cigarette fell out. Of course! Another one of those energy drinks! Suzanne walked fast over to the vendor’s stand and looked around. She didn’t see the man from before.

“Back again?” a familiar male voice spoke up.
Suzanne spun around and saw the same salesman she had met here before. The man looked slightly puzzled.

“Yeah, I have to thank you for the free sample. Do you still have those energy thingies in stock? I could really use another.” she asked.

Without a word the man, hoisted himself into the van through the doors in the back. After a few moments a tiny bottle was tossed out the vending window on the side of the van. Suzanne caught it.

“How much do I owe you for this?” She questioned him as she tried to hold her purse and the bottle in separate hands.

“Ummm…let’s make it 5 dollars.” The man seemed pleased at himself for being such a great salesman. Suzanne thought she was getting a deal. She handed the greasy male a folded bill and made her way back inside, clutching her tiny bottle tight. Meanwhile, the greasy salesman tipped his green visor to the back of his head and scratched his balding noggin. He stared in bewilderment as the young woman entered the building. He had an urgent call to make.

Suzanne didn’t wait for the elevator today. She opened the bottle and tossed it back like a tequila shot her roommate always did back in her college days. She did a quick bout of remorse that she hadn’t had more fun in college.

Determined, focused, she made her way up the flights of stairs to her office. She chastised herself for not locking her workstation before leaving and then poured herself back into her work. The effects took a shorter amount of time to kick in. She remembered that the last time she had sampled the drink; it had been about an hour before she felt the rush of energy. This time the effects where felt in 15 to 20 minutes. She had time to finish her revisions, eat her lunch and even get half way through some of the budget sheets that had been stacking up in her in-box.

Suzanna read the word again. “In-box.” She felt a sudden rush as her blood left everything higher than her nipples and headed south. Her sex slickened with arousal and she let out a little yelp when her hand had strayed to her left breast. I’ve got an in-box for ya. The joke made Suzanna giggle. She didn’t normally giggle, but she wrote it off to the fact that it was a surprisingly funny joke. Suzanna had never been known for a sense of humor. Wit, maybe…but not comedy. She appreciated comedy; she just wasn’t very good at it. Eventually, she could silence the giggle, but it took tweaking an aroused nipple.
Even though she tried to refocus her eyes on the lines of black and red numbers, her brain would not allow it. She pushed a hand deep between her thighs and pressed at her womanly junction. She was really wet.

It was the kind of wet that just diddling her moist button wouldn’t soothe. She needed penetration. At home, her trusty rabbit vibrator would have saved the day. Here at work, she was at a loss for how to overcome the growing need in her pussy. She pressed with her hand and rubbed her legs together, but that seemed to make the situation that much worse, that much more…dire.

Without remembering to lock her computer again, Suzanna dashed like a crazed woman for the bathroom. She nearly knocked over one of her male associates, Mr. Thomas Fisk, in the hallway. He turned and watched Suzanna bolt through the bathroom and made a mental note to talk with his boss about Suzanna’s behavior.
She burst through the door and sat on the toilet. The heat grew inside of her. Her breathing was shallow. Wicked thoughts filled her mind. She freed her hair from the ponytail tie.
Suzanna spread her legs and, without a thought, lifted her sweater up. The striped black cotton sweater bunched just above her breasts. Suzanna had never really been into tit play. Her last two female lovers had seemed to enjoy sucking on her tiny nipples, and because they seemed to enjoy themselves Suzanna let them continue. But here she was, sitting on a toilet, at work, with her sweater pulled up freeing her bra-clad breasts.

The frustrated woman pushed her legs together and tugged down her underwear. She popped her breasts out of the purple bra cups. She looked a sight of womanly lust, one hand playing with her moist lips, the other tugging on a small nipple. Suzanna reclined on the basin and it gave her pause to examine her body.

My nipples are too small. My hips too narrow. The hand between her legs sped up and she alternated rubbing her clit with dipping her fingers into her honey pot. Come to think of it, my boobs aren’t exactly eye popping. Her firm B Cup breasts had never bothered her before, but right now she felt nearly inferior, and that inferiority was fueling this sexual fire.

Her head tossed in arousal as a delicate finger traced patterns on the inside of her sex. Maybe a new hair color? Suzanna thought when her hair fell into her eyes as she thrashed about the toilet seat. That elusive orgasm suddenly approached. The hand between her legs had seemingly made the decision by itself to now stuff four fingers into her hot, needy sex. Fuck this dyke shit! I need some cock! With that thought Suzanna crested the mountain top of her arousal. The orgasm shook like earthquake through her body and the tremors continued long after.

After a few moments of labored breathing, Suzanna collected herself. She pulled up her panties and shoved her breasts back into the bra. She pulled the sweater down taught. Standing, Suzanna noticed that there was a lot of moisture on the toilet seat and rim. She grabbed some toilet paper, matted it up and flushed. Suzanna had never known herself to be a squirter, but she wrote it off to the tremendous orgasm she had just achieved.
She opened the door to the stall and on wobbly legs made her way to the sink. She washed her hands and face. She did a minor pose or two and confirmed her earlier thoughts about her physique. She walked out of the ladies room with her hair down and a huge grin on her face.

Suzanna’s work day did not proceed normally after her long liaison in the bathroom. She couldn’t concentrate at all. After giving up on the budget analysis, she hopped onto the internet to read some stupid mind filling celebrity gossip. Who’s cheating on who? Who’s engaged? Who’s pregnant? Suzanna smiled. It must be a lot of fun to get paid to look good, date good looking people and ultimately have good looking babies. She sighed audibly and decided that she wasn’t doing any good by being at the office. She shut down her workstation and left for home.

* * *

Suzanna was late the next morning, but this time it didn’t really seem to bother her. She had spent the necessary time to brush and style her new red hair into perfect tresses. On her way home she had picked up some hair dye. The color was labeled “Cherry Poppin’ ” and that had caused her to break out into a fit of giggles, much like her earlier encounter with the ‘in-box.’

She had sat in the tub relaxing as the new color set. Her hands constantly moving, restless to the core. First her nipple begged for attention, than her juicy clit. She just couldn’t seem to make her whole body satisfied. She had achieved two low level orgasms just relaxing in the tub, waiting on her hair.

After washing out the dye (a process that was made much longer by the feeling of hot water rushing across her breasts) she sat on her toilet and grabbed her moisturizer. Before applying any of cream, Suzanna had to do a double take. Her skin was immaculate. All the blemishes and unevenness that she had dealt with for over ten years seemed to have disappeared. She put the lotion back and decided she didn’t need it. And when was it that I remembered to shave?

As Suzanna sat in her office chair, twirling a lock of red hair, she felt her eye lids droop. She still hadn’t got a good night sleep. She had went to bed early after nearly tiring herself out with all the orgasms she had. Her dreams were erotic and they caused her to thrash about the bed. She kicked comforters and sheets to the floor and rode pillows like imaginary, endowed strangers. There was so much cock, cum and fun that Suzanna was always irritated when she woke before seeing how her imaginary orgies finished.

When she woke to chirping of the seasonal birds outside her apartment window, she knew she was already late. She was made later by the fact that instead of being able to throw on just anything and hit the door, none of Suzanna’s wardrobe seemed to fit right. Her bra seemed tight, but she delighted in the effect of her boobs reaching high over their demi-cup confinements. It gave her cleavage, enough that the boys would notice. She had grabbed her lowest necked shirt and put it on, the effect was awesome. Her pants also had felt tighter than usual. She had a particular hard time pulling it over her rear end.
Somehow without the aid of pliers, she stuffed her butt into the jeans and put on a pair of heels.

She combed, blow dried and styled her hair, all the while admiring the new person she saw in the mirror. At last, she looked…sexy…enough to go to work.

Suzanna had managed to stay awake at her desk by opening up multiple web browsers. One had a catalogue of pink, red and black shoes, all heels of course. Another had clips of pornography from a free hosting site that she didn’t know how she had known the url. Her fascination today was mainly girls swapping enormous cumshots between their bee-stung lips and letting the spermy spend drip onto gigantic tits.

Strangely enough, the third browser window was a small local boutique’s website. The boutique sold maternal wear exclusively.
Suzanna tried to keep her eyes jumping from one window to the next, but eventually it just made her tired. Just as her head was about to smack into the keyboard in front of her, she remembered her savior. The energy drink stuff from the guy downstairs!

The absent minded middle-manager forgot to close her computer down as she sped off for the elevator. She left all three non-work related windows on her screen, large enough that her boss, Mr. James Stevenson, noticed them as he walked by.

Suzanna bolted through those familiar glass doors like a panicked person escaping a fire. She stole glances in all directions and finally spied her favorite vendor. She ran off towards his van, nearly breaking both of her shoe’s heels in the process. She arrived in front of the window, stopped, put her hands on her thighs, doubled over and breathed hard, long runner’s breaths. “Gimme….one….those…energy drinks,” she said between gasps for air.

The overly suntanned man peeked out the window. When he spotted Suzanna, he was so shocked that he dropped to the floor under the window. This never happened before. He peered just over the sliding window’s ledge. The man saw a woman, twitching in place like she was in line for a stall in a restroom. Her hair was a bright red, much different than the dishwater brown it had been yesterday. Her breasts looked a slight bit bigger.

The nipples were definitely more pronounced. The salesman mustered up his courage and walked out the back doors of the van. He met her with one of the tiny drinks in his hand.

“It’ll be $20 this time.” He snorted. It was mostly false bravado, inside the man was terrified at what he would have to tell the drink’s creator.

“Sure…sure. No problem.” Suzanna tried to wedge her fingers into the butt pocket of her jeans. Her posterior would not make enough room for her to get her fingers into the pocket and fish out the bill. She rotated to the man, “Maybe, you could get it out for me?”

The overweight male stared at Suzanna’s pert butt. It was definitely much better looking than the first day he laid eyes on it. It was fuller, rounder; it stood taller. He held out a shaking hand and slowly approached her ass. When his calloused hands made contact with her jeans, Suzanna cooed audibly. The man almost took his hand back in fear. Instead he quick motion and shoved two of his round fingers into the pocket.

With the new stimulation of his fingers rubbing against her rear, Suzanna juiced between her thighs instantly. She fought hard to keep her knees from buckling from the erotic thrill that coursed through her spine.

“Can I g…g…go now?” Suzanna pleaded with the man.

“Um, sure thang, Miss,” the man replied.

Suzanna made a beeline to the glass doors and the salesman reached quickly for his cell phone. The creator would need to be informed.

* * *

Once inside the confines of the building, Suzanna tilted her head back and poured the delicious drink down her throat. It didn’t spend enough time on her tongue for her to gauge the taste. She was just glad she wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

She bounded up the stairs quickly, giggling to herself the whole way up. She was just about to make it to her desk when Mr. Stevenson stopped her. “Ms. Briggs, how could you think that what you are wearing is appropriate office attire?”

The blonde looked down at herself. She hadn’t noticed but since her consumption of the little bottle of goodness, her breasts had made a break for daylight. They hung low on her chest, two tremendous globes of flesh, spherical and delicious. Her bra had given up sometime around the third flight of stairs. Suzanna also noticed that she was feeling a slight gust of cold air on her hot pussy. Upon inspection, she discovered that her jeans had torn under the strain of running up the stairs and the sheer magnitude of her swollen ass. The seams were splitting and her sex was feeling drafty. Unfortunately for Suzanna it wasn’t enough of a breeze to quell the fire burning inside her.

“Umm, like, I’m sorry that my boobs…I mean…my shirt.” She said surprised. Was my voice always that high?

“Well, I would send you home to change, Ms. Briggs. But I’m afraid of what you might choose to wear instead. Mr. Fisk informed me that your behavior at the office has become…irratic.” Mr. Stevenson stated while calmly removing his glasses.

What a hunk! thought Suzanna. Fisk isn’t too bad himself. Great body. She decided to make her move on Mr. Stevenson. The craving for cock in her needy pussy was getting too much for her to endure. She flirted with him, grabbing his tie and batting it playfully against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stevenson. And please call me Summer, Suzanna Briggs is something for my business card.”

“Ok, Summer. I’m not sure a simple apology is going to do it. Not in this situation anyway.”

“But, I promise…I promise to make it up to you…and Mr. Fisk.” Summer put on quite a display. Batting her growing eyelashes and joining her hands together. Her breasts swelled, pushed together and leapt out at him. “Oh, my…look what happened Mr. Stevenson.” She flirted back to him. She could tell he liked this attention; he was getting hard. Mr. Stevenson watched her breast swell in front of his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Suzanna, now Summer, noticed, but he was pretty sure that she didn’t care.

“Those are quite nice, Summer. Perhaps we should take this into my office.” He gestured to the room in the corner with the big black couch.

“Totally.” Summer sauntered down the way toward his office. Each sway of her hip destroyed more of the jeans she was wearing. She felt cold, but she knew she was about to get things heated up.
Mr. Fisk stood a few feet away watching Stevenson and the growing nakedness of ‘Summer.’ Stevenson gave Mr. Fisk a non-verbal signal to follow him into the office.

* * *

“Oh, yes. Fuck that pussy,” Summer screamed from the corner office.

Mr. Stevenson continued pounding her from behind. He pushed those massive melons into the couch until they came back up under her chin. She loved it.

Fisk, who was recuperating in the chair next to the couch, had jerked himself back to full attention. He stepped up to summer, his erection bobbing. “Wanna suck it again, Summer, babe?”

“Sure thing,” Summer said arching her head up to get in line with his crotch. She swallowed his manhood deep. Saliva drenched him, obscene sucking noises echoed in the room. She pulled her head off of his prick, “but you guys gotta promise to cum in my hot cunt this time. No more tricks with all this cumming down my throat. Not that I mind, it tastes…oh…good and all, but…”

“Of course, Summer.” Fisk interrupted and directed the slut’s mouth to his cock.

“Will do, Summer!” Mr. Stevenson shouted as he grunted against her needy sex, his balls slapping against her. Her juices traveling down the insides of her thighs.

The determined slut blew Fisk like a seasoned professional. After a few intense deep-throats, she popped him out. “You close, Mr. Fisk?”

The man with closed eyes and his cock in the hand of the perfect bimbo slut could only nod.

“Goodies!” She looked over her shoulder at the hunk pounding her from behind, “Now cum, Mr. Stevenson. I need a big belly! Otherwise all those dang dresses I bought will be for nothing!”

After giving her perfectly bubbly rear a loud smack, the man who was assaulting her pussy let his torrent of jism loose inside her. He collapsed on top of her.

“Mr. Stevenson!” Summer pouted, “You’ve got to get up so Mr. Fisk can shoot his inside me too!”
The manager slowly rolled off of her back. His cock dislodging with an audible suction sound. Fisk did not miss his opportunity. He stepped up behind her, grabbed Summer by her ankles and tossed her onto her back. The thrill of spinning around on his dick caused a mini-orgasm to shake through her.

“That’s it Mr. Fisk. Shoot your stuff. Don’t you want to see my belly get big? And these tits,” she mauled her heavy boobflesh in her hands, “they’ll grow some more, and the milk.” Fisk could only respond with a whimpered cry. “Come on, Fisky-baby, knock up your slut, knock her up good.” She pursed her lips and kissed.

Fisk tried his best. Her excited utterances and pleas for pregnancy cause his balls to tighten and then shoot a healthy wad of potent baby batter inside her already full tunnel.

“Oh goodie!” Summer exclaimed. “I won’t even know whose it is! And no matter when it’s born, it’ll be a Summer Baby!”

Fisk fell weak kneed on top of Summer’s bountiful chest.

From outside the windows to Mr. Stevenson’s office the vendor and the creator stared on.

The vendor man had his baseball cap high on his head as he scratched his scalp. “I just don’t get it. Ain’t right. Ain’t usual.”

In a cold voice, a voice of that exuded an eerie calm, the creator replied, “Ours is not to question, Anthony.”

“Still, three! Nobody need no more than one before!” Anthony replied.

The creator waved his hand out to gesture at the three sweaty, sexual being in the office, “I don’t think Mr. Stevenson or Mr. Fisk will be complaining about the cost of our services.”

“I reckon I agree.” Anthony puzzled a moment, then spoke, “But I gots to say, I love her new name.” He watched as the bimbo put her hand over her sex in an attempt to keep all that was inside her from leaking out. “Ain’t no self respecting bimbo goes by Suzanna.”

“Hmmm…” The creator pondered aloud, “Maybe the reason it took three of my little trinkets to fully change her lies just there. In her name.”

Anthony looked stumped, “I’m pretty sure I don’t follow ya.”

“Oh come on, Anthony, you mean to tell me you’ve never heard that old saying, ONE SWALLOW DOES NOT A SUMMER MAKE.”

Anthony just shook his head.
The creator sighed and huffed his shoulders. He mumbled, “The culture of some people.”

By Ghost Hand
This story takes place in the New U Salon created by zon18.

Diana walked in the door of her apartment and tossed the mail on her coffee table. She proceeded to kick her shoes off and drop heavily on to the couch. Between her government job and her superhero career she was wore out.

“I need some time off.” She said, ” Thank the gods it finally Friday!”

She had been looking forward to this all day; with the week she just had she barely got to slow down for five minutes since last Saturday. But now it was over, her work promised not to call her all weekend and she was off call for the justice league.

‘A weekend all to me! I won’t know what to do with myself, but I’m sure I’ll find something.’ She thought as she smiled.

‘Maybe I’ll check out a few museums or the zoo.’ She thought. She also thought about going home to Paradise Island, but ruled that out. ‘If I go there,’ She thought, ‘someone will wind up having trouble with somebody and will need rescuing from something. And of course I’ll have to be the one doing the rescuing. I spent all last weekend foiling the cheetah’s latest scheme, and I didn’t even catch her. I’m really not looking to spend another one chasing someone else around.’

As she sat there thinking about what to do she noticed a bright pink envelope mixed in with the mail. She bent over and brushed the bills off of it and picked it up.

NEW U SALON, FREE HAIR STYLING IF YOU HAVE THE WINNING LETTER!! She read. ‘Another scam I’ll bet, probably just a coupon for 10% off their over priced hair cuts.’ she thought as she opened it.

As she opened the envelope she caught a whiff of a flowery perfume. As she took a deep breath of it her senses seemed to tingle. “Wow that’s some potent stuff.” She said as she pulled the letter out.

‘Congratulations you are a winner’, it said, and then it gave a phone number and a verification number. ‘Call this number right away and set up your free appointment!’

‘Yes,’ She thought ‘I should call right away.’

If she had not been so tired she might have noticed that she was following the suggestion on the letter a little to obediently, but in her current state she just reached for the phone and dialed the number.

“New U Salon, how may I help you?” The voice on the other end said.

“Hi, my name is Diana Prince and I received a letter saying I won a free hair styling. I would like to set up an appointment for this weekend if you have any openings.”

“Well actually we just had a cancellation for this evening, could you be here about 6:30? We are in the Hawthorne mall on 23rd street.”

She looked as the clock and saw that it was almost 6:00. The mall was only a couple of blocks away; she could walk and still make it easily. “Yes, I believe I can just walk and be there in time”

“Great I’ll see you shortly then, and don’t forget to bring the letter. Good bye for now.”

Janice at the salon turned and said, “she’s on her way, are you ready Suzy?”

“All set, she doesn’t stand a chance.” Suzy said with a grin.

“Don’t get too cocky, she is a very strong willed individual it won’t be easy.”

“Don’t worry I’m ready for her. I mixed the chemicals extra strong just for her.”

“Ok but be careful, I would hate to see what would happen if she found out what we are up to.” Janice said gravely.

Meanwhile Diana had put her shoes back on and was on her way to the salon. As she walked she tried to figure out why she was doing this but as she looked at the letter in her hand she thought ‘Well, at least I’ll have a fresh haircut for the weekend,’ as she continued on down the street.

When she got to the salon she saw that it was a new store, they didn’t even have a sign up yet. They just had a sign it the window of the storefront. The Hawthorne mall was a small strip mall on the edge of the shadier side of town and was always having businesses moving in or out. Diana had been by it but had never actually shopped there. As she walked in she saw that it wasn’t as she expected to see with beautician stations lining the walls, but instead had a very elegant waiting area and a reception desk with six doors leading to a private room.

“Good evening, how may I help you?” said an elderly lady from behind the desk.

” I have a appointment at 6:30.” She said as she looked around.

“Oh, you must be Ms. Prince. Hi, I’m Janice I talked to you on the phone. Your beautician will be out in a moment. Please have a seat. You must be thirsty from walking here, would you like a glass of water or something?”

“Yes thank you.” Diana said as she sat down. “Do you need this.” She said as she held out the letter to Janice.

” Yes, thank you” Janice said as she took the letter and handed Diana a glass.

As she took the glass she noticed that Janice had on a pair of rubber gloves. ‘ She must be one the beauticians and getting ready to color someone’s hair.’ She thought, ‘maybe I should get my hair colored?’ and then laughed to herself as she thought of the reaction of everyone when Diana Prince an Wonder Woman both wind up getting their hair colored at the same time and the same color. ‘So much for my secret identity, and why would I want to get rid of my beautiful dark hair anyway for some fake color?’ she thought as she drank her water. As she sat there she began to feel the same tingling but it didn’t seem to bother her as she became very relaxed. She looked through a hairstyle book as she finished her water wondering what she would look like with the various hairdos even though she knew she couldn’t change her hairstyle without compromising her identity.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a voice. “Hi I’m Suzy, if you’ll come with me we’ll get started.”

Diana’s jaw almost hit the ground as she saw Suzy. ‘This woman belongs in a porn movie instead of doing my hair!’ as she looked at the over made-up blond with huge breasts.

Suzy saw the look on her face and quickly said “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. And I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. You can trust me.”

Diana’s face relaxed as she thought, ‘Yes I can trust her.’

“Well what can we do for you tonight.” Suzy said as she led her to room four.

“I just need a trim.”

“Ok, have a seat and we will wash your hair so I can trim it.” She said as she put on a pair of gloves.

As she sat down she saw the room was filled with all types of beauty supplies for hair, nails, makeup, even ear piercing. “Wow, this room is stocked! How many of you work out of this room?”

“Just me, I’m a full service beautician. Would you like a full makeover? I’ll give you a real good discount since you won that free hair styling.”

“Oh no, just a trim.” She said as she leaned back into the sink.

“Here let me take those.” Suzy said as she took Diana’s glasses and proceeded to wash her hair. As she wet her hair and massaged the shampoo in Diana felt the strange tingling again.

“What’s in that? It feels odd.” She questioned.

“It’s a special shampoo that we have made just for our salon. It stimulates the scalp and it does wonders for your hair. It also has a very relaxing feel. Don’t you feel relaxed?”

“Yes I guess I do.” Diana said as she started to feel a calm come over her.

“That’s good, you just lie back and relax and let me take care of you.” She said as she smiled down at her.

‘She’s such a nice person.’ Diana thought as she lay there and smiled back.

After about ten minutes Suzy finally saw what she was looking for as Diana’s eyes seamed to glaze over. “I think that’s clean enough,” she said as she rinsed her hair and wrapped it in a towel. “You know, it’s too bad you have to wear those glasses. You have very beautiful eyes. Have you ever tried contacts?”

“Actually I really don’t need them. But that’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell. After all, we’re good friends. And friends don’t tell the others secrets.” Suzy told her. Diana felt very reassured by her. “So why do you wear them? Are you a spy or something?” She said as pulled the towel of her damp hair.

“No I’m not a spy” she said, “I’m Wonder Woman actually.” She whispered.

“Wow, I’ve never met a real superhero! Where do you hide your costume?” She said as looked at her. “You obviously are not wearing it.”

“It’s in another dimension until I call for it”

“Can I see it? I would love to see you in costume! I’ll lock the door and nobody will bother us.”

‘She’s been so nice to me, I guess that’s the least I could do for her,’ she thought. “Ok.” She said. After Suzy locked the door she stood and started to spin around and summons her costume. It took her a little longer to call it as her head seemed real fuzzy, but she finally accomplished it and stood there in her familiar star spangled uniform.

“That’s awesome, can I get your picture?” Suzy asked.

“Sure, go ahead.” She said as placed her hands on her hips with her long legs spread in her normal superhero stance as Suzy snapped a few shots of her.

“You know, I have the perfect style for you. Why don’t you slip you costume off and put this robe on. I would hate to mess up your beautiful outfit.” Suzy knew that even with all the drugs in her that with her costume on she would shake the effects quickly.

“I don’t know if I should do that.” Wonder Woman said as she started to feel nervous about what was going on.

“Don’t worry, we’re both girls. You don’t have to be shy around me. You trust me don’t you?” Suzy said with a hurt look on her face.

“Yes, of course I trust you.” Wonder Woman said. “Its just that I feel a little nervous right now.”

“There is no reason to be nervous. I’ll take good care of you, besides I can’t do your hair with your costume on. You do want me to do your hair don’t you?”

Wonder Woman looked at Suzy and felt a bit ashamed of herself, she had been so nice to her and here she was not showing her good friend any trust. “Of course I do. You are right, how can you do my hair with this on?” She said as she started to remove her costume. “Sometimes being a superhero makes it hard to trust anyone, even friends like you. So what do you have in mind for my hair?” As her costume came off the peaceful calm seeped back into her mind and all the worries she had minutes ago seemed to just wash away.

Suzy couldn’t help but stare at the gorgeous Amazon that stood completely nude before her. She was almost perfect, a little small up top, but she would take care of that soon! “I think you would look great with a nice curly perm. It would really make all the guy take a second look with all those big curls flowing down your back.”

“I don’t know, what about my secret identity?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Everyone will be to busy noticing how beautiful you look. Now, don’t even think about your secret identity any more. You just let me worry about that. I’ll make sure that it’s not a problem for you. Ok?”

“Ok, if you say so.” She said as she sat back and let Suzy get to work.

Suzy worked fast getting Wonder Woman’s hair rolled up. She knew she had to get the special perm solution on her head quickly before the earlier drugs wore off. Once the hair was rolled and the solution was on Suzy quietly breathed a sigh of relief. “There we go, now all we have to do is wait.” She said as she looked into Wonder Woman’s eyes and saw them completely glaze over again. She then proceeded to walk over to a drawer and take out a pack of cigarettes and light one up. “Would you like one?” She offered to Wonder Woman.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke.”

“That’s too bad. I’m sure you would love it if you tried it. It tastes wonderful and it looks so sexy! Most me love to look at a beautiful woman smoking a cigarette. ”

“You think I would look sexy smoking a cigarette?” Wonder Woman said while visions of herself smoking and drawing stares from men started to make her wet in the crouch.

Suzy could see the aphrodisiac was starting to kick in. “Oh certainly, and I think if you tried it you would be hooked forever. You would probably wind up being a very heavy smoker, two to three packs a day at least. I think you really should try it, you will just love it.”

“Well ok, but I’ll probably cough my head off.” She said as she reached for the offered cigarette.

“For you it will be nothing but pure pleasure. Just do what I do.” Suzy said as she lit the cigarette for her.

Wonder Woman followed Suzy’s instructions and drew hard on the cigarette and watched as the end glowed brightly. Her mouth was filled with the most delightful taste and as she inhaled the thick cloud of smoke she felt as if she had breathed in the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced. As she exhaled smoke slowly overhead she said, “Wow! You were right! I love it!” as she proceeded to take another long drag and inhale deeply.

“I told you that you would.” Suzy said as she watched Wonder Woman smoke her first cigarette. She was amazed at how powerful her suggestions were. Some of the drugs in the perm solution would help her body adjust to the nicotine but it was Wonder Woman’s own mind that suppresed the gag reflex and made the cigarette taste so good to her. “So, I bet you know all the other superheroes quite well don’t you.”

“Yes I have known some of them for years.”

“So, what’s that hunkey Superman’s secret identity?”

“Clark Kent.” She answered without hesitation. “He’s a reporter at the Daily Planet news paper.” She said as she sat there smoking. As she thought about Superman she felt her nipples getting hard. She imagined herself lying on her bed smoking a cigarette with Superman between her legs eating her out. She took a long drag and had a slight orgasm as she exhaled.

As Suzy watched Wonder Woman shudder slightly she knew she had her completely under her power, and she smiled wickedly.

Forty minutes and seven cigarettes later Suzy had pumped Wonder Woman for every bit of information she could get. Meanwhile Janice was in another room listening in and had all the information wrote down.

“Well, I think its time to rinse your hair out.” Suzy said as she leaned Wonder Woman back and got back to work on her hair. As she finished removing the perm rods and rinsing her hair she looked at Wonder Woman’s hands and asked, “Why do you cut your fingernails so short?”

“It’s hard to do all the different things I do with long fingernails.” She replied.

“Well men like women with long fingernails. And if you want to look sexy and attract men, you need long fingernails. You want to attract men don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do. Can you please give me some long sexy fingernails?”

“Bigger?” Wonder Woman said in surprise.

“Oh yes, I mean yours are nice but they are not even as large as mine.” Suzy said as she hefted her FF breast. “Don’t mine look great? And men love huge breasts.”

“Yes your breast look lovely, but there isn’t very much I can do with mine right now. You think I should get a breast enhancement?” she said as she looked at her insufficient breast with shame.

“Don’t worry, I have something right here that can fix it.” She said as she pulled out a syringe and opened Wonder Woman’s robe and injected the fluid into her breasts.

“Thank you. You are such a good friend.” Wonder Woman said as she sat back and drifted off in blissful sleep dreaming of big breasts.

When she awoke awhile later Suzy was done with her nails. She looked down and cupped her now huge mounds in her hands and smiled. “Aren’t those much better.” Suzy said. “I’d say they are at least HH! Those will definitely get the men’s attention! But we really need to do something about all this hair down here.” She said as she rubbed Wonder Woman’s crouch.

“You mean my pussy?” she moaned.

Suzy knew the fluid had erased the words vagina and breast from Wonder Woman’s vocabulary. They were tits hooter cunt and pussy or some other degrading words now. “Yes your pussy.” She said as Wonder Woman moaned again. She also knew she would become highly aroused at the first degrading word she heard. “I think we are going to have to shave your pussy. That will make it look sluttier. A slutty pussy for a slutty woman.” She said.

“OH yes,” Wonder Woman moaned louder. “Give me a slutty shaved pussy.” She cried as she came hard.

“I think you like the word pussy. I think I’ll call you Pussy from now on. You like that name Pussy?” She asked as she fingered Pussy’s clit.

“Yes it’s a wonderful name.” Pussy said as she played with she new huge tits.

As Suzy shaved her cunt Pussy set there smoking another cigarette and playing with her tits. Suzy noticed Pussy was smoking like she was putting on a show taking long slow drags, and then opening her mouth wide so she could see the smoke slide down her throat then tilting her head back and exhaling slowly overhead. “I bet a lot of men know this as familiar territory!” she said as she rubbed Pussy’s cunt.

“No,” Pussy pouted. “I think they find me intimidating.”

“That’s because you are so smart. Men don’t like women to be smarter than them. They like slutty bimbos. The dumber they are the better.” She said as she finished up shaving Pussy’s cunt. “I can fix that for you too.” She said as she picked up a bottle. “This is a bimbo wash. Guaranteed to lower you intelligence.”

“Will I be really dumb? A total bimbo?” Pussy asked excitedly.

“It depends on how long I leave it on as to how dumb you get. How dumb do you want to be?”

“Well,” Pussy said as she thought about it. “The dumber I am the better I guess. I mean I have a great slutty body.” She said as she fondled her tits and ran her long fingernail up her cunt. “What do I need a brain for, right?”

“So you want the works then?” Suzy asked.

“Yes,” Pussy said as she sat down in the chair at the sink.” Make me as dumb as you can. A complete airhead!” She said with a big smile.

“Ok, here we go.” Suzy said as she poured the wash on Pussy’s head and massaged it in. after a few minutes she said, “How are you doing Pussy?”

“Great! It feels like my brain is just leaking out my ears!” she giggled.

“Here drink this.” Suzy said and handed her a small glass of blue liquid that Pussy drank right down.

After about fifteen minutes Suzy finally saw a blank look in Pussy’s eyes. ‘That sure took a long time. There was a lot of brain up there. Was being the key word.’ She joked to herself. “Can you read this Pussy?” she asked as she handed her a bottle.

Pussy looked at but couldn’t make sense of it. “Nope.” She grinned. “Is Pussy a bimbo now?” She asked high bimbo voice.

Suzy smiled. Her latest potion worked. It had adjusted Pussy’s voice to the perfect bimboish pitch. “Yes Pussy you are a total bimbo now.”

“Goody, Pussy loves being a bimbo! Pussy’s head feels so empty now!” She giggled. “Now Pussy can just fuck and not have to think anymore!”

Suzy noticed that Pussy had lost the capability to refer to herself in the first person. After she had rinsed Pussy’s hair she dried it and began to finish styling it. It took almost a full can of hairspray to get it just right. “Well time for you to get dressed Pussy. I have the perfect outfit for you to wear to you new job.”

“Why of course. You can’t still do your old job; you aren’t smart enough for that.”

“I got you a job as a street whore! Isn’t that great? Now you can get fucked all the time and also get paid for it!”

Pussy almost started to cry as she gave Suzy a huge hug. “You are the best friend a slut could ever have!” She cried. “That is the most wonderful job that Pussy could ever of asked for!”

“Well go get dressed, we still have to do your make up. And I have some great jewelry for you too.” She said, as Pussy quickly got dressed. After Suzy had done her make up and jewelry she stood her up before a full-length mirror. “So Pussy, what do you think of the new you?”

Pussy looked herself up and down and took a long slow drag off her cigarette, “Pussy loves it! Pussy is just fuck meat now!” she said as she rubbed her cunt and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke upwards. “Pussy is going to be the best street whore in the whole world!”

‘I’m sure she will be’ Suzy thought as she pushed a button under her table.

“Well I think they are done.” Janice said as she looked across the room at the person that contracted them for this job.

“Well lets go see the new Wonder Woman.” Catwoman said with a growl. “And this better be as good as you said it would!” During her confrontation with her last week Catwoman had managed to get a tracer on her and find out her secret identity.

When Catwoman entered the room she saw Suzy standing on one side of the room and another woman in front of a mirror primping her huge hair. When she turned around Catwoman’s jaw almost hit the ground. “Wonder Woman?” She sputtered.

“Pussy isn’t Wonder Woman anymore, Pussy is Pussy.” She said. “Pussy cat want to play with Pussy’s pussy?” She giggled.

Catwoman looked Pussy over and couldn’t believe her eyes. She started at her feet which were clad in black ankle boot with six inch silvery metal spike heels, up to her long legs covered in black fish-net stockings attached to garters that extended below her very short black leather micro-mini skirt that was so short that she could see the clit ring that Suzy had gave her. She then looked at her hands. Her long two-inch cherry red nails were each adorned with several cheap silver nail rings and each finger had at least two rings with several that had chains leading to slave bracelets around her wrists. She then scanned over to her huge chest. Her HH tits were barely covered with a tight black leather bustier the pushed her tit up into mountains on her chest. Catwoman could see the outline two large nipple rings through the tight leather and a small silver ring in her navel. Around her neck was a dark red leather choker with a small pendant that said whore on it. She could barely make out her face under the heavy make up. Her lips looked swollen and were painted a bright shiny red. It made it look like she had a permanent pout. Her eyes were rimed in heavy black eyeliner with extremely long black lashes that looked completely fake. Her eyelids were covered with a silvery purple eyeshadow and her dark eyebrows were tweezed thin and in high arches. Her ears each had four big silver hoops dangling from them. She also had one small silver ring it the right side of her nose and two more in her right eyebrow. As she opened her mouth to inhale another large cloud of smoke Catwoman could see that her tongue was also pierced. She then looked at what had most surprised her. Her lovely dark mane of hair was gone! It had been replaced with long flowing curls of pure white hair. Her now platinum blond hair was teased up into a very big slutty eighties style. She looked like the ultimate wet dream from the darkest corner of someone very perverse mind.

“Can Pussy get fucked now? Pussy is so horny.” She moaned as she rubbed her cunt.

“In a little while Pussy, here you can play with this.” Suzy said as she opened a drawer and handed her a twelve-inch vibrator.

“Oh, thank you Suzy.” She squealed as she immediately turned it on and started to run it over her body.

Suzy, Janice, and Catwoman stepped outside of the room as Pussy sat down in the stylist chair to play with herself.

“What is the possibility of her breaking the conditioning?” Catwoman asked.

“You misunderstand, her long-term memory capacity has been totally destroyed. After around three weeks she won’t even remember being anything but Pussy the street whore. There is no going back for her. Whatever life you set up for her will become her whole existence.”

Catwoman handed Janice a large suitcase saying, “Here, I think you earned this.” As Suzy handed her a box with Wonder Woman’s costume and a small notebook.

“Not going to stick around I see.”

As they turned to supervise the workers Catwoman returned to the room to get Pussy. When she walked in she just shook her head at the sight she saw. Pussy was slumped down in the stylist chair with her legs spread wide as her platinum blond hair formed a halo around her head. A cigarette was dangling from her mouth and her hands were playing with her large tits and ramming the vibrator quickly in and out of he wet cunt. Pussy was moaning loudly and Catwoman couldn’t help but smile at the vision of pure lust before her. “Come on Pussy, its time to go.”

As Pussy came out of her sexual stupor she gave Catwoman a sexy pout and slowly pulled the vibrator out of her dripping cunt. She then took the cigarette out of her mouth and deep throated the vibrator sucking all of her own juices off of it before placing it in her purse. After she straitened her clothes and applied a fresh coat of her lipstick she followed her out the back door to a waiting limo. As they pulled away Pussy leaned over and gave Catwoman a passionate kiss. As she slipped her tongue in her mouth Catwoman could feel the tongue stud and taste the cigarettes and pussy juices on her breath.

As Pussy finished the kiss Catwoman asked, “What was that for?”

As Pussy’s hands started to pull the bottoms of Catwoman’s suit off she told her, “Pussy know that you are responsible for Pussy’s new look and Pussy just wants to thank you for it.” She said with a wicked grin as she knelt down on the floor and began eating her out.

Catwoman ran her hands through Pussy’s long platinum blond hair and smiled. After Pussy had brought her to several orgasms she finally pushed her off and pulled her clothes back up. As Pussy lit another cigarette Catwoman pulled out the notebook. ‘Now who shall I take care of next.’ She thought with a sneer.

Saturday night a new hooker appeared on the streets of L.A. and Wonder Woman was never heard from again.

Author: Mr. Pink

Elizabeth woke not with a start but with a moan. Her head was aching as if a Sherman tank was parked inside her skull

Where am I? she thought to herself .

As if she was answering her own question her memories of last night returned.

It was the last night before she left for her backpacking trip to Canada, there was no food in the empty flat so she was going to drive to the nearest Macdonald’s for dinner. As she sat down in the drivers seat she had felt a stabbing pain in her butt it must have been some sort of needle with a drug in it as she had lapsed into unconsciousness before she could even stand up.

Where am I?

What am I doing her?

Where are my clothes?

How long have I been asleep?

Her mind was working incredibly fast but her body was still not responding.

With what seemed like incredible effort she managed to open her eyes.

The room was approximately the same size as her own apartment bedroom and had a mirror on the ceiling an empty rack to put clothes, a door and a television built into the wall covered by glass.

The monumental task of opening her eyes had exhausted her and just before she slipped back into unconsciousness she realized the TV was turned on but there was no sound.

When consciousness returned a second time the Sherman tank was still throbbing in the background but her body was doing what she was telling it. She was still in the same room

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

I have been kidnapped,

When blind panic came over her a second latter she went running for the door.

The first step caused agony in her feet and legs and she collapsed taking her second step.

She lay cold and naked on the floor looking at her feet and wondering why they wouldn’t straighten.

The door was locked, she crawled on her hands and feet over to it but she couldn’t open it nor had the hours banging on it produced a response from outside all it had done was make her headache worse.

Some time latter Elizabeth returned to the bed and tried to calm herself so she could think better.

For the first time she noticed what was on the TV, it was a porn move, some silicon chested bleached blond bimbo was getting fucked by two guys at the same time. She turned a way in disgust her taste in sex was a lot more “normal”. Elizabeth liked men and tolerated sex but she had always been far to independent to be put up with one man for any amount of time. She would not even think of sexual intercourse until at least a two months into a relationship, by this time she would be bored of them and send them on there way.

All right she thought to herself my kidnappers are not real smart. They have left me free, so sooner or later I am going to get an escape opportunity and I have to be ready for the attempt at any time. She wasn’t going to be a docile prisoner she was going escape. To get out she was going to have to be strong. With this thought Elizabeth lay faced down on the floor and began to do push ups.

God I love this job, Michel thought as he watched Elizabeth’s tight body on closed circuit TV. There was two views one from directly above through the mirror on the ceiling and the other from the position of the Television in her room.

Michel dialed up the number of the head trainer.

Stage one is proceeding well sir. The subsonic and subliminal are working, Bambi is showing an extremely strong desire to get fit, I am sending Candy in once Bambi has reached exhaustion.

Good. Keep me up to date came the reply

Michel went back watching Elizabeth’s long legs and tight butt as she started doing sit-ups.

Elizabeth lay on the bed exhausted and breathing deeply. All she could think about was getting fit and strong for her escape attempt.

The door open and a tall woman walked in. Before she could react the door was closed again.

Elizabeth tried to stand up but she was exhausted and her feet wouldn’t straiten so she collapsed on the floor.

From there she took a closer look at the woman.

She was wearing a pair of red patent leather sandals with the highest heel that Elizabeth had ever seen, it must be close to 7″ long and she balanced on the thin metal heel and her big toe. Her long legs were encased in a set of black rubber stockings which were held up by suspender straps that disappeared under an incredibly short and tight black rubber dress that only just barely covered her butt.

The dress just managed to contain the biggest breasts that Elizabeth had ever seen. These things made Dolly Partton look she was an “A” cup. The dress was so low cut that the only things that stopped it from falling off was the straps that reached from the armpits to the leather collar around her neck on the collar was CANDY written in large gold letters.

Candy’s face could only be described as that of a slut.

The mouth was small and Elizabeth would have described it as attractive but the lips were swollen and pouty and covered in glossy fire truck red lipstick. Her eyes surrounded by black eyeliner and silver eye shadow extended to her thin eyebrow. Long thick platinum blond hair and teased out to a ridicules extent reached halfway down to her tight bubble but. These were not the sluttiest things about Candy.

Her expression screamed slut. Her eyes gave impression she would prefer to be on her knees sucking Elizabeth’s pussy than standing. Her mouth had a dumb sexy smile that was exaggerated by a tongue that continuously licked her lips as if it was encouraging a man to stick his cock down her throught.

What are you Elizabeth said in a sarcastically. Trying to sound tough, as she lay naked on the ground unable to stand.

Hi I ‘m Candy

I can see that but why have you kidnapped me?

Candy doesn’t know.

Candy was told to come in hear and talk to Bambi

Who is Bambi?

“You are silly”, Candy said with a giggle.

Candy was starting to annoy her. With her perky attitude and the stupid way she referred to herself in the third person.

I am not some blonde bimbo like you my name is Elizabeth

The men told Candy your name was Bambi so that is what Candy will call you or the men will punish Candy.

Who are these men? Elizabeth asked. Finally she might be able to get some information out of this blond bimbo.

The men are the masters and we dolls are just hear to service them.

I am not a doll I am a person, so are you.

Don’t be silly of course Candy and Bambi are dolls, we are in a doll factory.

Elizabeth continued trying to convince Candy that she was a person but she refused to believe it and eventually Elizabeth gave up.

What have the men done to my feet she asked Candy.

Bambi is a fuck doll now and so she must walk on sexy high heels. With that she produced a pair of high heel sandals out from behind her back and gave them to her.

I am not wearing these they make me look like a slut.

Candy just shrugged and put the shoes down.

Elizabeth still thought Candy was acting she now believed the room was bugged and probably under video surveillance so she leaned very real close Candy’s ear where a large hoop earring swung back and forth. How can we escape she whispered.

why would Candy want to escape. Candy gets all the cock she wants to fuck her slutty holes. why would she want to leave.

My god she realized the truth they had brain washed this girl into believing that she was a fuckdoll and then given her a silicon enhanced body to match. Now they held her captive and were going to do the same to her.

“get out” she screamed at Candy.

Candy stood up and walked towards the door, Elizabeth went to follow but her feet prevented her and then if by magic the door clicked open and Candy left closing the door behind her.

Elizabeth lay back down on the bed she was surging with anger and she vowed she would kill the men that were doing this to her. She had to escape before they did to her what they did to Candy.

How could she escape?

She couldn’t even walk let alone run so she picked up the shoes that Candy had left behind. How typical of men to find something so impractical attractive she thought. The shoes slipped on her feet with out any problems but she couldn’t be fasten the leather ankle strap with out closing a lock, which she had no key to unlock. Elizabeth closed the locks having no doubts that she would not be able to remove the shoes until after she had escaped.

She was more determined to escape than ever and she realized that the men had made another mistake, the shoes could be used as a weapon. The heels were so long and thin they could do devastating damage to a person if used properly. Elizabeth had trained for several years for a brown belt in karate so she was going to make sure it was her business to teach these men that she was not a big titted bleached blond bimbo.

With renewed enthusiasm she returned to her training, this time doing the leg stretches that would enable her to use the shoes to best effect.

Elizabeth woke the next morning with muscles aching and her stomach was telling her she needed some food.

She was half way through a set of 50 sit-ups when Candy walked in with a plate of food. Today she was wearing a Rubber cat suit with a Zipper for fast access to her pussy and a leather corset that cinched her waist down to a incredible tight figure.

There was two ways out of this place she had realized while trying to sleep last night the first was to try and bring Candy to some sense of normality so they could escape together as it appeared that Candy had access to most of the building.

The second involved taking a hostage.

It would be useless to take Candy hostage as the men obviously didn’t care but she knew eventually the men would not be able to control themselves and they would come to see her in person. She could work on both plans at the same time

While Elizabeth ate breakfast she started talking to Candy.

The conversation with Candy was not going anywhere. All she was capable of talking about was sex. If she wasn’t saying how much she liked fucking in the position that was currently being shown on the TV, she would talking about how she was trying to get the men to enlarge her tits by one more size. She said a doll with out a big set of tits was just a waste of space.

She had nearly given up on plan one when Candy said the men had given permission for Bambi go to the gym.

Elizabeth followed Candy out the door with out any problems. They walked along a corridor that reminded Elizabeth of a hospital.

She tried to open some of the doors in the corridor but found they were all locked. Except the one filled with gym equipment.

Candy Left Elizabeth saying she had a movie to film (Elizabeth had no doubts as to what type of film).

She tried to follow her but the doors wouldn’t open for Candy unless she was at least ten meters away so Elizabeth found herself locked in the gym. The rest of the day consisted of weights, sit ups, treadmills cycle machines and exhaustion. By the end of the day Elizabeth was so tired she could barely walk on the high heels but she knew this was from fatigue as her skills had improved on the 7″ spikes to the stage where she could slowly jog on the treadmill with out breaking her ankle.

Candy had returned in the late afternoon dressed in a fetish nurse’s uniform made out of white rubber with her make up and hair immaculately slutty. She smelled of recent sex. Candy escorted Elizabeth back to her room where she found dinner placed on her bed. She ate it all to exhausted to listen or reply to Candy’s prattle about the days fuckfest and went to sleep watching a submissive blonde in a French maids uniform kneeling before her master begging to suck his cock on the TV.

For the next two weeks this was the pattern of her life exhausting exercise, and a unrelenting determination to become fit and strong so she could escape. The only things that did change was her own fitness level and Candy’s clothes. Elizabeth was in the best physical shape of her life she even ran 10kM per day on the high heels and her feet didn’t ache nearly as much as they did 2 weeks ago. Candy never wore the same thing twice her clothes ranged from a G-string and a pair of nipple clamps to a full Victorian English dress including corset and umbrella made out of transparent plastic. Elizabeth was starting to believe she was never going to see the mysterious men that kept her captive.

She was wrong.

That night as she lay down to sleep there was a hissing sound from the air vent. It was some sort of gas. She started to stand up but she had already started to feel the effects and she slumped back into bed unable to move, the last thing she saw before falling asleep were two men entering the room wearing gas masks and pushing a surgical trolley.

Stage two had begun

When Elizabeth did reawaked she only saw the obvious changes to her body. She had a brand new set of firm DD breast that defied gravity. She was disgusted although the breast were not any where near as large as Candy’s they made walking difficult because of the change of the center of gravity and because she could no longer see her feet.

She vowed when she escaped, she would have the silicon implants removed.

The breast implants were not the only modifications done, there were three others.

The first was a tiny little microchip the size of a pinhead implanted in her clitoris. This device had the ability to prevent orgasm by blocking the chemical and electrical signal from the brain. The device could also induce a woman to orgasm by artificially reproducing these signals. The intensity of the orgasm would be proportional to her level of sexual excitement.

The second was a similar microchip position in the area of the brain that controls sexual excitement. This chip could effectively control Elizabeth’s state of arousal.

The third was a small container of a very powerful drug that when placed in the blood stream promoted memory retention. It was originally devised by the military to make their officers learn faster. Experimentation found the drug was too powerful the drug not only increased memory it promoted pavlovian responses and produced a photographic memory of events that took place while the drug was in the patients system and these memories were so strong that they overwrote the previous memories of the patient. So the airforce the pilots could tell you every thing about a plane but could not remember how to fly it or even there own names. Needles to say the project was abandoned and supposedly forgotten. But not by every body.

Michael sat in the control room watching Bambi examine her new tits.

The senior trainer walked in with his fly undone Michael knew that one of the dolls had just done there work with the boss and he guessed it was Vixen the red headed beauty that had the ability to suck you testicles out through your cock.

“Bambi seems unaware of the less obvious implants and she seems to be quit impressed with her new rack” he reported.

The boss smiled with the news and replied “as if she gets choice.”

Michael continued with his report” her arousal level is at level 2.2 out of 12 and I will be increasing that by 0.5 per day. Her ability to orgasm has been suppressed.

“Excellent,” came the bosses reply, as he walked out of the room no doubt in search of Titsy who regularly gave the boss a full body massage with her beach ball size tits.

Michael knew his turn would come as he had told Candy to bring her tight slutty body to his office after his shift in the control room. For now he would enjoy watching Bambi trying to do sit ups with her new tits. Knowing that once her arousal level reached 8 she would be begging to fuck him and if the arousal level reached 12 for any time greater than a minute or two she would have serious brain damage.

Elizabeth settled back into her routine still vowing to escape and to get her body back to normal. Every day her hate for the men keeping her captive grew. She swore to herself that when she saw one she would rip his throat out.

5 days after waking up with an expanded chest Elizabeth was laying on the bed exhausted after another long day in the gym feeling horny. There was nothing abnormal about this. Back in her normal life she regularly masturbated about once a month. Here in her little porno cage as she had come to call it she believed she was being watched with hidden cameras. She hadn’t wanted to give her captors the pleasure of watching her masturbate. She was a hard time sleeping so she decided it was time to give her captors a thrill. It may even bring her captors in to see her. With a vision of herself strangling a man with her thighs she began stroking her clitoris.

In the control room Michael sat watching her talking to the boss on the phone.

“Bambi is masturbating now sir”

“Yes her arousal level has jumped from 4.7 to 6.4″

“The Orgasm suppressant appears to be operating”

“Yes sir. When she stops masturbating I will increase her arousal level from 4.7 to 5.7.”

Michael put the phone down to watch the show being provided by Bambi and thought about what he was going to do to Vixen who was currently in heavy bondage suspended above his bed. Her 3 holes were filled with Vibrators and her ability to orgasm suppressed like Bambi’s.

Elizabeth lay on the bed exhausted sweaty and horny. Her fingers were sticky and smelled of her own juices. She had tried to reach orgasm for 2 hours but was unsuccessful, finally giving up and began crying.

She managed to cry herself to sleep and dream of all sorts of depraved sexual acts that she had never tried and never wanted too.

Elizabeth woke up hornier than ever, she tried again to masturbate but gave up after half an hour.

She was nervous now why couldn’t she reach orgasm what had they done to her. She decided she would ask Candy.

Candy was Late she always arrived at 7.30 with breakfast and to take her to the gym. She was wondering what was happening when the door opened and Candy walked in. Elizabeth realized straight away why she was late. Candy was dressed in a heavily boned corset that stopped just below her enormous tits. Long rubber gloves that were connected to her choker by rubber straps. Also connected to her choker were her Erect nipples which were pierced and connected to her choker with two small chains. But it was the tight red rubber hobble dress that had made Candy late. It started under the corset and went down to her ankles. The dress restricted Candy’s steps to about 2 inches in length, This combined with the 6 inch heels she was wearing would make walking extremely difficult it had probably taken her ten minutes to walk down the corridor.

Direct was the best approach, it is not as if Candy was shy when it came to sex.

As Candy put her breakfast on the bed Elizabeth asked ” Why cant I reach orgasm when I masturbate.”

Candy smiled that bimbo smile of hers, the one that made sure everybody know she was an airhead and said. “Don’t be silly, fuck dolls are for the pleasure of their master not for themselves.”

Oh god it was happening, they were turning her into another horny Bimbo like Candy and she didn’t know how it was happening.

Elizabeth had an idea “Would you pleasure me ” she asked nervously she had to break the men’s hold over her and the best sex she had ever had was with a women back in college but she was not in general interested in women.

“Candy loves to suck hot sexy fuckdoll pussy but fuckdolls can’t give other fuckdolls orgasm unless their master gives permission.”

“Please can’t you try anyway” came the desperate reply

Candy smiled her slutty sexy smile and knelt at Bambi’s feet and began kissing her inner thighs.

Michael sat in the control room with the phone to his ear.

“Candy’s providing her oral services now sir. ”

“Yes the suppressor is working ”

“If it can work with Candy talented tongue it will work with any thing.”

“I am switching over from exercise subliminals to sexual subliminals now”

Oblivious to the conversations in the Control room Elizabeth sat on her bed crying. Candy had been divine, her talented tongue had worked her to incredible heights of pleasure but no matter how hard she tried Elizabeth had been unable to achieve release. She lay on the bed depressed not wanting to exercise for the first time in weeks. She watched on TV a red head being fucked doggy style. Her tits were so big that the bouncing caused by the giant cock fucking her from behind caused her erect nipples to rub on the shagpile carpet she was kneeling on. The look of utter pleasure on her whorish face at the time the man shot his load into her from behind told Elizabeth that she was not faking the orgasm. For the first time Elizabeth wished that she was the woman on the TV and she felt guilty feeling that way.

Elizabeth had started on her way to becoming Bambi.

Several More Days had pass but things were not getting any better for Elizabeth. Her days consisted of exercise to relieve the boredom and to get her mind of sex and how horny she was. Her Nights consisted of perverted dreams, all of which ended in her begging to be fucked by a man.

Michel and the boss sat in the control room watching the scene being played out in the poolroom.

Elizabeth was just finishing her daily swim. She was naked except for her 6 inch spiked heels.

As she stepped out of the pool tired from the swim. She look up, coming through the pool room door was a man wearing a tailored suit.

Michele hit the button that would increase Bambi’s arousal by one point up to 8.2. Her legs nearly buckled with lust.

Elizabeth walked toward unsteadily towards the man her nipples were erect and her pussy was dripping with her own fluids. Here was her chance to take a hostage. But she couldn’t take her eyes off his cock every cell in her body was screaming for sexual release and her mind was telling he could give it to her.

As she got into reach of him she lashed out with her feet trying to kick him in the nuts. But he was expecting it and deflected the foot forcing her to pivot to her left. Instantly the man was behind her forcing her forward towards a table. She was off balance and could not resist as he bent her over the table squashing her large breast. He placed one hand at the base of her neck holding her down and then grabbed her mousy brown hair pulling her hair back forcing her to look straight a head into a mirror.

“Now” said the boss in the control room.

Michel pressed 2 buttons the first increased Bambi’s arousal from 8.2 to 9.2 and the second released the memory enhancement drug into her blood stream.

Elizabeth lay on her silicon-enhanced chest looking into a mirror at herself and the man positioned directly behind her. He kicked her feet apart forcing more weight on her sensitive nipples and forcing her breasts forward and together in a similar fashion to that achieved by a corset.

With his free hand he reached down to his own pants and freed his cock. Elizabeth couldn’t see it but she could feel it rubbing on her pussy lips. Every cell in her body was telling her she wanted that cock.

The man said for words

“Beg for it cunt”

As he rubbed her pussy lips with the head of his cock

Before she even knew what was happening she heard herself whisper “please”.

He thrust into her in with a grunt and she felt as if her entire existence was centered on her pussy. There was nothing more important to her than reaching orgasm her escape attempt was forgotten.

Michel reached forward and pressed the button that increased Bambi’s arousal level to 10.5 his eyes returned to the scene on the monitor.

He could hardly wait for the coming weeks when he would get his opportunity to rut this hot bitch.

Elizabeth was so close to Orgasm she could nearly feel it, see it, taste it, hear it and smell it. Her body was working by itself thrusting back onto the cock.

In one mighty heave the man thrust his cock so far into her pussy she thought it would never end. Then she felt his hot seed surge into her.

At that instant Michel pressed another button and the Elizabeth’s Orgasm started. The pleasure rolled through Bambi’s body tossing her around like a cat in a tumble dryer. For an instant she looked at her face in the mirror and what tiny part of her brain was working recognized the expression on her face it was identical to the red head with big tits. For what seem like an eternity the pleasure came and came until her mind couldn’t handle any more and she passed out. Her mind was not accustomed to such levels of pleasure.

Latter that day Elizabeth lay on her bed watching Candy on the TV. She was dressed in a rubber maids uniform, showing her long legs and huge tits. She was squatting precariously on 7 inch heels giving a man a blow job. As the man achieved orgasm he pulled his cock out of her mouth and she began wanking his tool trying to encourage as much come as possible to shoot onto her heavily made up slutty face. Elizabeth recognized the look on Candy’s face. It was the same one she had seen on her own face when she had cum. Candy was cumming from having her face fucked and Elizabeth knew the men would make her do this to and with that thought she began to cry.

Elizabeth found it easier to watch the porno movies on TV now. They distracted her from her own memories. She always found her mind returning to her rape this morning. She tried to rationalize it to herself as rape but deep down she knew it wasn’t. She had asked, no begged the man to fuck her and she had loved it. This made her feel sick and guilty. She promised herself that she would never allow it to happen again but already her arousal level was beginning to increase. As she watched another mans come spurt over Candy’s orgasmic face she was unsure of her own convictions to keep that promise.

She was strutting down the footpath, her hips swaying from side to side encased in a tight red PVC mini skirt that failed to hide her stocking tops. Her medicine ball size silicon fuck bags were overflowing from the tight PVC halter neck top. On her feet was a pair of matching ankle boots with 1-inch platform and towering 8-inch spiked heels. The clicking noise the shoes made her horny and wet. Every thing made her horny and wet. She was a nymphomaniac whore on the prowl for some hard cock to fill her aching holes.

A 1962 Buick with green and white panels pulled up to curb in front of her. She smiled that slutty smile of hers and strolled towards the car making sure she gave the driver plenty of time to look at her long legs in the mirror. She bent over at the hip when she reached the driver side window giving the driver a perfect view of her favorite body feature her enormous silicon filled fuckbags and her tit fucking cleavage. She smiled when he didn’t even look at her face, she knew she was going to get a fuck.

Elizabeth woke up in a sweat. She realized it was just a nightmare. Then the memories of the last couple of days returned and she thought the dream might become true. She had been fucked 6 times in the last 4 days. Each time a man would appear, the sight of him would get her so horny she couldn’t think straight. She was then forced to beg to be fucked. The last two times they made her refer to herself as Bambi. After the event she would be left broken and weeping on the floor vowing it would never happen again but with in minutes the uncontrollable lust would return.

Elizabeth’s attention span had dramatically reduced in the last couple of days. She tried to think of better times, at home with her family. Her mind would always return to the fuckings the men had giver her or the porno on the TV in front of her and her hands would start massaging her sensitive erect nipples.

She was haveing trouble with her memory. Last night she had trouble remembering her mothers name and this morning for about 3 minutes she couldn’t remember her own name. All that she could remember was the night before begging a man to fuck Bambi. This worried Elizabeth more than the sick perverse enjoyment she received from the sex.

Elizabeth found herself wondering how she had let herself get into this position. Tightly bound and erotically displayed to those that passed by. Her legs were tightly bound in thigh high leather boots with heels that forced her to stand on her big toe, Candy had called them Ballet boots. Her waist was incredibly compresses by a tight steel reinforced leather corset. Her mouth was filled with a rubber coated metal ring gag that prevented her from closing her mouth but prevented any noise louder than a moan to escape her lips. The only thing that did escape her lips was a constant small stream of drool that flowed over her glossy fire truck red lips and dripped from her chin as she was bent over at the hip. Her arms were securely tied to her corset making her hands useless. Her legs were straight with her feet tied to the floor with a series of leather straps. A metal pole that went from the floor to her corset took her wait. On top of her back was a wooden tabletop that was connected to the metal pole via a steel loop that went around her tightly corseted waist. She was a part of the table, her butt was erotically displayed and freely available to any body walking past. Her mouth was kept open by the ring gag and her head pulled back by her hair. She realized was an object or an appliance like a foot massager. She was a blow job dispenser or a cock massager and that turned her on and she hated herself for it.

Several men started to trickle into the cafeteria to get their meals and the sight of them boosted her arousal level. She heard her own voice begin talking to her through earplugs.

“Please fuck Bambi, Bambi’s a horny cunt, Bambi’s nothing with out a cock in her, Please fuck Bambi, Bambi’s a horny cunt, Bambi’s nothing with out a cock in her, Please fuck Bambi, Bambi’s a horny cunt, Bambi’s nothing with out a cock in her, ”

Bambi’s arousal level clouded her mind. Her own thoughts and those forced on her merged together until her own mind was screaming “Please fuck Bambi, Bambi’s a horny cunt, Bambi’s nothing with out a cock in her”

Bambi moaned with pleasure as the first man undid his fly and pushed his cock into her drooling mouth. Her thoughts changed to

“Please fuck Bambi’s slutty face. Bambi is a slut a whore who is only god for fucking, Please master come in Bambi the blow job dispenser, please fuck Bambi’s slutty face. Bambi is a slut a whore who is only god for fucking, Please master come in Bambi the blow job dispenser”

Hours had passed her muscles had become tired but she still enthusiastically sucked and massaged the cock in her face and throat. She was driven by the insatiable lust that would rise up with in her whenever she saw a cock and would only subside when it shot its cream on or inside her. Her face was covered in cum where some of the men had withdrawn to shoot all aver her slutty face. This dripped to the floor with her drool to form an ever-growing puddle. The man fucking her faced buried his cock to hilt as his load shot into her tightly corseted belly where it combined with several dozen deposits from other men. Bambi moaned in orgasmic bliss as another orgasm washed over her.

Bambi opened her eyes to see there was finally no more men left in the cafeteria. With both regret and relief she thought her ordeal was over. Until she felt two strong hands grab her butt and position a cock at the entrance. Bambi was amazed at how just a man’s touch could get her so hot and excited. Automatically she wanted to beg for the hot cock. She wasn’t sure of it was her own voice or the earplugs in her ears that was saying

“Fuck Bambi’s tight butt, Bambi loves having her tight butt reamed, please cum in Bambi’s slutty arse, Bambi is a slutty whore who needs to get her but fucked”

With that thought she begin milking the cock being impaled in her arse. Nothing mattered more to her than getting the man fucking her butt to cum. It didn’t even occur to Elizabeth that several hours ago she had never been butt fucked.

Bambi was looking into the compact mirror and what she saw turned her on.

“Bambi is one hot fuck hole,” she said to herself with a lustful smile.

Bambi knew her make up was there to make her face look cheap and slutty. This would excite men and encourage them to put their hard cocks in her throat. So she checked her makeup one more time.

Her silicon-enlarged lips were painted the brightest red she could find and covered with a shinny lip-gloss and finally a thin black line was drawn neatly around her lips. Candy smiled knowing they would look perfect wrapped around a cock.

Her bright blue eyes were lined with dark eyeliner and her eye shadow was brilliant silver with flecks of red glitter. The overall aim was to make sure she looked like a fuckdoll and not a woman. Bambi had been a woman once but hadn’t liked it. Women were expected to think, be intelligent and hold conversations. Worst of all they didn’t get fucked very often. Bambi was a lot happier being a fuckdoll.

Bambi looked at the bright red Christmas tree baubles she had as earrings. A man had once told her that Bambi’s head was like a Christmas tree bauble or a hoop earring. They looked pretty but there was nothing on the inside. Bambi liked this, a fuck dolls was not supposed to be intelligent but must look pretty and sexy at all times.

In the back ground Bambi heard a speaker system start up with a squelch of feedback.

“Quite down. Quite down. I know you have worked hard for this. The company promised a Christmas party to remember, if you got the last oil well drilled in time. I am glad to say it was done in record time.

The crowd cheered

so I am pleased to present Santa’s little helpers Candy, Sindy, Bambi and Titsy for you pleasure tonight.

Taking there cue four dolls strolled out onto the stage with there hips swaying and tits jiggling They were dressed in matching red fur trimmed mini skirts, and push up bras for there massive silicon enhanced chests. None of the dolls expected the clothes to be of any use tomorrow. The clicking of the heels of there black knee high boots was drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

The bright klieg lights behind the stage blinded some of the men but as the dolls saw the crowd of waiting men, the lustful sparkle in the doll’s eyes shined brighter than any klieg lights.

Elizabeth woke up feeling wet and sticky she could still remember the dream of last night and she was as horny as ever. She also felt guilty because she had the impression such dreams were wrong. She was also scared because she couldn’t remember her own name. She knew the men were turning her in into the brainless fuckdoll Bambi. If only she could remember her real name she would stop being Bambi the bimbo whore. But try as she might she couldn’t remember it. She forced herself to concentrate and ignore the ever-present lust.

“What is my name? ”

“What is my name? ”

“What is my name? ”

She repeated to herself over and over again.

Just when she thought she would never remember it popped into her head.

She thought she would burst with happiness ” May name is Elizabeth “.

She was ecstatic she wasn’t going to let the men turn her into a brainless bimbo, all she had to do was remember her name. But then she remembered it was nearly time for Candy to arrive and if she was fucked again by men she would forget who she was. She needed to write her name down but what with what? and where? Then she remembered the blood red glossy lipstick Candy had given her yesterday.

She found a hidden spot in the room and carefully wrote

” My name is ELIZABETH. I am a person”

She had to think hard how to spell each and every word. But she was happy when she finished.

The day had gone incredibly quickly. She had spent the morning in the gym exercising. Then half a dozen men had dragged her into the Jacuzzi where she had alternated between giving blow jobs catching her breath and begging to give another blow job. At the end of the day, three men had fucked her to a mind-blowing orgasm. She was still basking in the after glow of the orgasm when she returned to her room. She remembered that she had written her name down. As long as she could remembered her name she would always remember who she was. She looked at where she had written it. There it said in blood red glossy lipstick.

“My name is BAMBI. I am a fuckdoll”

She smiled because she knew it was true.

Michael was nervous, he sat in his control room watching the monitors as Bambi approached the testing room. Today Bambi was having her big test, she didn’t know it but for the first time since she arrived at the factory a month ago she was going to have sex with out the artificial stimulation of the implantS in her clitoris and brain. If all of Bambi’s training had gone well the memory drug had hard-wired new routines into her brain. These being:

Dolls are always horny and want sex

Dolls become extremely aroused at the sight or smell of men.

Dolls become more aroused by the touch of men.

Dolls cannot orgasm unless a man ejaculates on or in them

The boss stood directly behind him watching the monitor “what is her arousal level?”

“5.8 Michael” replied “A little low. ” he heard a grunt of agreement from behind him.

The door in front of Bambi open and she saw a man sitting on a bed. He was 58 overweight bald with brush over on top. His dark suit didn’t fit. They had found him in a seedy strip joint in the suburbs of Alabama. Michael thought of him as Mr. Slob.

Mister Slob was told that they were doing human sexuality experiments for a university (which was true in some ways). He was getting paid $500 for a day’s work.

“Its just jumped to 7.4 sir.”

“Excellent, above average” came the reply.

Bambi walked in naked except for her 7-inch heels unashamedly strutting her stuff. She wanted that cock.

“Hi I am Bambi” she purred in her most seductive voice possible

Mr. Slob was stunned. Well most men would be, he probable hadn’t had sex with any body except his wife in decades. He didn’t know where to look, at her magnificent huge bouncing tits, Her tight waist and neatly trimmed pussy or her slutty face. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

Bambi sat on his knee.

He was still so stunned he didn’t what to do so Bambi grabbed his hand and started massaging her DD breasts with it. He soon got the idea and began fondling/groping her augmented tits.

Her arousal level has jumped to 8.9 sir

“That feels so good.” Bambi moaned, as she rubbed her firm round butt on Mr. slobs leg and massaging his crotch with her hands.

This continued for several seconds.

“Could Bambi suck you big beautiful cock?” she said pleadingly.

He nodded and manages to whisper “yes”.

She slipped of his knee and maneuvered to kneel seductively between his legs.

Bambi smiled seductively and unbuttoned his pants. Bambi reached in a fondled his small flaccid cock.

“It looks like Bambi’s going to have to work a bit harder than we thought ” The boss said.

Bambi’s shiny red lips were around his soft cock trying to massage it into life. Slowly but surely every time her head bobbed up and down Mr. slobs cock got a little larger and a little harder.

Bambi was in seventh heaven now. Sucking cock was one of her favorite past times. All she had to do was milk this cock for every sweet bit of pleasure she could.

“Her arousal levels at 9.2 sir.”

“So is his replied the boss, I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”

Bambi was totally absorbed in sucking the cock in her mouth. She new he wasn’t far from orgasm because she wasn’t far from her own and she knew a fuck doll cannot come unless a man comes first.

Mr. slob was now holding Bambi by her hair guiding her up and down on his cock. With on last lunge Mr. slob buried himself to the hilt in Bambi’s throat and shot a torrent of sticky seed into oral vagina. Bambi’s orgasm washed over in never-ending waves of pleasure and she continued to suck Mr. Slob an another attempt to get a rise out of him.

There were smiles all round in the control room. There were a few more tests to go but Michael and the boss knew that Bambi would pass with flying colors.

Excellent work Michael!!. Bambi is your 19 th doll isn’t she? One more and you get your own custom doll.

The thought of this gave Michael a hard on. He had is eye on this 16 year old brat that lived down the street from his old apartment. She was drop dead gorgeous and she would look even better with a set of tits the size of basketballs. She already had a history of running away because her mother was an addict. Nobody would suspect she that she had been kidnapped and turned into a blow job dispenser.

“When Bambi completes her tests get Candy to start teaching her how a good doll acts and dresses. She still needs plenty of work done on her body to get her up to standard.” He said as he walked out the door on his way to an appointment with the talented twat of a little Asian doll called Sucki.

“What is wrong Bambi” Candy asked when she saw Bambi lying on the bed crying.

“Bambi doesn’t know” came the reply with a sniffle.

“Bambi went with Titsy to meet a few men. The men didn’t want to fuck Bambi”

“Titsy got a really good fucking, but the men didn’t want to touch Bambi. Did Bambi do some thing wrong?”

Candy smiled ” Bambi is a real pretty doll but she needs to work harder at seducing men, if she wants to get more cum”

“Bambi doesn’t understand ”

“Bambi should try to wear sexier slutty clothes and wear more make up.”

“Bambi should wear clothes to show men how whorish and slutty she is ”

Bambi Nodded

Bambi only exists for sex, so every thing she does should be done in away to encourage men to fuck her. Said Candy.

Bambi should learn to walk sexier, talk slutty and then men will want to fuck her.

Candy your so smart Bambi said with a giggle.

Candy do you think Bambi needs bigger tits? Titsy has got such large beautiful fuck bags and men are always tit fucking her.

“A doll can never have a too big a set of norgs” she replied, looking at her own tits

“Now let’s go get you dressed like a proper fuck doll and then we will find some men to stick some hard cock in us.”

Bambi was nervous and excited. She had been told to go and see the boss. She didn’t know who the boss was but she sure he would be strong and powerful if she could only get him to drive his cock into her.

Bambi had taken special care when getting dressed.

She had chosen a pale pink spandex dress that was so tight it looked as if it was painted on. She had chosen it because it showed her recently expanded tits to best effect. She had always wanted bigger tits. So when her controller (she loved referring to him as her controller, it got her so excited.) said she could get them expanded if she worked extra hard in the gym to strengthen her back muscles. She had done 3 extra sessions a day for a week and whenever her controller fucked her she had beg him to expand her fuck bag tits. The doctor had done a wonderful job, he not only increased her tits to GG size (almost as big as titsy’s) He also removed one rib to make her waist smaller and put silicon implants in her lips. They also shaved her entire head and body bald (except eyebrows) and did something to it to stop it from growing back. She was a bit nervous about this but the men had had implanted hair back onto her head that was thicker, longer, shinier and had the ability to change color. Bambi loved this it gave her the ability to match her hair to her outfit or to the preference of a man. One minute she could be a platinum blond blowjob dispenser, the next she could be a fiery red headed hooker. Bambi’s hair for now was platinum blond teased out to maximum effect. Her waist was compressed with a tight black leather corset that finished just below her enormous tits. The corset managed to compress her waist to a breath taking 17 inches. It did make it hard to breath but men found it exciting to put there hands around her waist while fucking her. Her shoes were 2-inch platform sandals with 8 inch spiked transparent plastic heels. She was still adjusting to her new center of gravity due to her recent tit job. So she walked a little slower than usual. Her makeup was appropriately slutty with bright glossy passion pink lipstick which matched the nail polish on her 2 inch finger nails. Around her neck was a black leather collar with Bambi written on it. Bambi liked this because now she would never forget her name. Dangling from her ears was a set of cheap and tacky pink hoop earrings.

Bambi knocked on the door and entered, She noticed that her arousal picked up, as she could smell the scent of a man.

“Come in Bambi take a seat.”

Bambi did so but she was more interested in kneeling between his legs and taking his member into her mouth.

Bambi sat there, going through her seduction routines of licking her shiny pink lips, fondling her breasts and playing with her hair but it wasn’t working.

Bambi I would like to introduce you to MY fuck doll, Head-job Sally. Bambi saw for the first time a blow up doll that was standing in the corner. Its legs were opened showing a plastic replica vagina and above were two conical breasts. Its mouth that was permanently set in an “O” configuration so men could stick their cocks down its plastic throat. Painted on to the plastic skin was fishnet stocking and suspender belt.

Bambi go and say hello to Sally.

Bambi stood up and walked across to Sally ensuring that the boss got a perfect view of her cleavage when she stood up. She was rewarded by the glimpse of an erection in the boss’s pants.

Just like she was taught she began to give Sally a long oral kiss, tasting the combination of seamen and plastic. She hoped the erotic display would turn the boss on.

“That’s enough you two. You can sit back down now Bambi.” Bambi complied waggling her butt as she walked back to her seat.

Bambi, what do you and Sally have in common?

Bambi wasn’t used to being asked questions. So she thought about it for a few seconds and then said ” We are both fuckdolls sir, our only reason for existence sir is to give pleasure to men.”

A good answer Bambi

“Bambi smiled ” she was hornier than ever.

“Who is the better fuck doll ” He asked.

“Bambi is.” she replied.

“Why?” he asked.

Bambi hesitated

Bambi’s tits are bigger and better at tit fucking.

Bambi’s mouth is trained better at fucking cock.

Bambi’s arse and cunt is better at sucking cum out of a cock.

Bambi can change her slutty clothes and make-up to continually excite and satisfy men.

They are all good reasons Bambi but what would you say if I said Sally is a better fuckdoll.

Tears started forming in Bambi’s eyes

“Why, is Bambi doing something wrong” she asked submissively.

“Sally is better fuck doll because sally has a master, She is MY fuckdoll ”

Would you like to be owned by a master Bambi?

At that point there was nothing more in the world Bambi wanted more than a master that would own her and use her.

Yes sir. She said with a huge smile.

There is a man out side this door that is thinking about purchasing you.

The thought of the man outside wanting to own her and use made her incredibly horny excited and happy.

Why don’t you fix up your makeup, put on your happy slutty face and go and show him what you are good for.

As Bambi left the room He picked up the phone ” Candy get your hot fuckbag tits up to my office and around my cock. This time don’t get delayed or I will see to it that you don’t get laid for a month”. He smiled he loved this business. Bambi had earned him close to a million dollars.

A Japanese businessman had purchased her because of her growing fame as a porn star. For the next week she would be trained such that only Mr. Osaka could satisfy her craving for pleasure. Bambi would come to believe she was in love with him and she would be happy do any thing he asked including fuck any of his business associates. She would also be taught what would be expected of her in Japanese culture. Of course most of this would only apply if Mr. Osaka was showing her off in public. As for Mr. Osaki he would get the prestige of having a big titted American porn actress as his geisha. Eventually he would probably get bored with Bambi and would trade her in on a younger model. Bambi would be re-trained as a general purpose doll and sold again probably to a Russian General as they currently go there kicks from using an American piece of fluff but didn’t have the money to pay for a brand new doll. One general even had ” “made in U.S.A” tattooed on a dolls ars.

As Candy sank to her knees and began massaging his cock with her huge tits, he began thinking about the new acquisition that was being acquired tonight. She was the younger sister of the girl that is now Candy. She was to be transformed into an identical twin replica of Candy. They were both to be sold off as “Candy” and “Cindy Streetwalker” to their rich stepmother. Their stepmother had originally paid the company to kidnap Candy. The sudden disapearance of Candy had broken her father’s heart. He had died soon after. Thus leaving all his money to the girl that would become Cindy and to their stepmother. The stepmother would now acquire the entire fortune and purchase the twin fuckdolls for a considerable amount of money as her personal pleasure servants, a situation that would make everybody happy. With that thought he came over Candy’s orgasmic slutty face.

By Andrew J. Mellon

Part 1: Fall From Grace

This is dedicated to the muse of the erotic mind control literature, Jamie Buske.

Bethany Kean was savoring the feel of her leather chair. She had finally made it. It had only taken her five years to make vice president, but she had worked like a dog over those five years: 80 hour weeks, no social life, none, not even a drink with an agreeable looking guy, no time for family, not even time to attend her father’s funeral. Social life and family, those matters were ancillary to her success. Now all that work was paying off—big time. She was making the six figures, she had authority, she had power. Life was finally good.

Bethany’s grandiose revelry suddenly snapped by the intrusion of a harsh panting sound, emanating from just beyond her office door. Each breath was almost timed rhythmically as if someone were engaged in exercise. She furrowed her brow: what the hell was that? She got up to investigate.

Swinging open the door Bethany found her new secretary, Jane, bent over her desk, grasping the side so hard her knuckles were white; her head was bent back displaying the contorted expression of ecstasy molded on her face. Its source was a thin man, dressed in black, his hands clenching the secretary’s ass, exposed by her hiked up skirt, while he steadily thrusted his stiff cock into her.

“Jesus…Mr. Devlin” Jane cried out in a voice honeyed with passion “So big…so full…yes…fuck me harder…harder!!! Soo GOOOOD”

“Just what the hell is going on!?” Bethany shouted angrily at the fornicators.

“Wait your turn.” The man growled back without even looking up from his work.

Bethany was about to fall upon the couple with clenched fists, but her anger flowed out of her as did her interest in the amorous activity taking place. Without thinking, she turned around, closed the door and returned to her beloved seat. She reassumed her thoughts as if they had not been interrupted. Yes, she had worked hard to get where she was now. Life was good.

Just as Bethany was about to get to business, Jane came in, her face flushed, gasping as if she had just finished running a race, her clothes disheveled from her recent ordeal.

“Mr. Devlin is ready to see you now.”

Bethany frowned. She was not ready to see Mr. Devlin; she didn’t even know who he was. Just as she was about to protest, the man in black entered. He zipped up his fly and then imperiously waved the secretary out, smacking her butt as she passed him for the door. Jane giggled, threw Mr. Devlin a beaming smile and left. Bethany glared at Devlin as he plopped down in the seat across from her.

“Comfortable?” She sneered.

“Yeah, not bad.” He said absently as he lifted his legs and crossed his heels on her desk. “Nice digs.”

“I worked pretty hard to get here, Mr…Devlin is it?” Bethany punctuated his name with a questioning tone, not so much because she didn’t know his name, but because she wanted to know why she should be talking to him at all.”

“Ain’t what I hear.”

“And what do you hear?”

“You sleep around with the right people.”

Bethany balled her hands into fists; her face instantly turning red.

“Oh I don’t believe it myself.” Devlin said glancing around the room. “BA Northwestern.” He said as he scanned a diploma and then another. “MBA, Wharton. Both magna cum laude. You’re a real go getter.”

“Who told you…I slept around?” She said her voice rough with a snarl, showing she was just barely restraining her anger.

“My employer is a competitor of yours. She actually does sleep around, which is why she figured you must have done so to get the promotion she coveted for herself.”

“Tell me who…is your employer!” Bethany demanded

Devlin ignored her, “Do you know what a bimbo is?”

Bethany was not going to let the man to change the subject, she tried to reiterate her demand. Instead she found herself saying in an instructive voice, “A bimbo is a woman who isn’t that bright…who dresses in skimpy or tasteless clothing, who sleeps around…a lot.” Bethany was stunned at what she was saying as the words literally popped out of her mouth. That wasn’t what she meant to say at all.

“Yeah, well my employer wants you taken care of. Since she thinks you are a bimbo why not let fact imitate fiction? You are a bimbo.”

“I am a bimbo.” Bethany said vacantly, her mind a bit scattered. She reassembled her thoughts and screamed at the man, “Get out! Like, get out now!”

Bethany’s anger was tinged with fear; she was afraid. This man, if he could make her say things, maybe make her do things. Despite this rising sense of alarm, she found herself checking him out, looking him over, he was kind of wiry, not her taste, but she was starting to feel all warm, tingly, her loins were beginning to fire with longing. She brushed a hand through her light brown hair and sighed, undoing the collar of her blouse.

“It is, like, sooo hot in here.” She said aloud, her voice in a higher pitch.

Devlin looked thoughtful for a moment. “And to make things interesting, you can make bimbos.” He told her Bethany began wrapping a lock of hair around a finger childishly, eyeing Devlin even more intently. She tried to shake herself out of this mood she found herself in.

“I can make bimbos.” Bethany blurted out in a monotine. “Like…what’s happening to me?” Jesus, so fucking horny…” She said aloud.

Devlin smiled as if he knew what was going on, he circled the desk, coming up behind Bethany, placing his fingers on her shoulders and blowing in her ear. She jumped up at the touch, then relaxed, her breathing becoming deeper. The vision of Devlin fucking her secretary danced within her; she wanted him to do that to her, she wanted him to press her down on her desk, pull town the trousers of her suit, her panties, and thrust into her, she wanted to feel stiff his rod going in and out. She leaned her head back upon his shoulder, closing her eyes as she wallowed in these thoughts.

“Jesus…getting so wet…oh please… Fuck…fuck me…I sooo need it….” She said breathily as he touched her. Devlin slapped her behind and laughed.

“Normally I would oblige, but I just shot my wad. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get release.” With that, Devlin walked out, shutting the door behind him. “Jesus…like what has that shit done to me?” Bethany moaned. “Got to concentrate…got to think about something else.”

Bethany was terrified. She was supposed to be the one in control; the one in command. That was what she had worked for. She had to get that control back; work would be her salvation, it always had been before, she had to get to work. She quickly sat down began reading a report, that would get her mind off what her body was feeling.

“Syntech Corporation had a net income of $233 million for the year ended December, 31 2002…”

A vision of Devlin fucking her over the desk intruded upon her. She tried reading again, mouthing the words. “Syntech Corporation had a net income of $233 million for…”

There it was, the vision again. She had to take matters into her own hands. She undid her trousers and reached a hand down to her wet crotch, aching for the touch. She found the nub of her clit and began to rub it. She dreamed she was feeling Devlin behind her pressing into her as she desired, her screaming in ecstasy. She felt the warm orgasmal surge rush within her, rise, she gritted her teeth and bleated a gasp as she held the feeling and then shook as it took her. She signed and lay back into her chair. Mmmm…that was good.

She tried to rouse herself.

“Shit, bitch come on, get to fucking work!” She told herself. “You’re not getting paid to fuck yourself.” Bethany paused. She didn’t use that language. Not even in private. She again attempted to hurl herself into the report and clear her mind.

“Syntech Corp…or…ation had… a net in…come….” She was stumbling over the words even as she tried to focus upon them.

“Fuck! This shit is, like, so boorrring.” She said petulantly, her voice just a pitch higher, tossing the report in the trash.

Bethany stood up, grabbed her purse, and stomped out of her office. What was wrong with her; that man, he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t drugged her, hadn’t done anything physically to her that she could tell. Maybe she just needed a cup of coffee.

As Bethany walked down the hallway, she noticed an intern in the copy room. She paused. What was her name? Emily? She was getting her degree at Columbia. She always wore tight fitting clothes to show that thin waist, those pert breasts, oh those nice little tits. The way her shiny back hair fell about her shoulders was so tantalizing.

“Come on, get a grip on yourself, Beth!” She told herself urgently, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the young intern. She stepped into the copy groom, closing the door behind her and locking it. Emily turned to see Bethany and smiled, her almond-shaped eyes smiling with youthful exuberance. Their sparkle only intensified the hunger Bethany was feeling for this young Asian woman.

“Emily…” Bethany said in a low voice even as her mind was shouting for her not to go any further.

“Yes, Miss Kean?” Emily said cheerfully.

“I have a job for you.”

“Anything you want, Miss Kean.”

Bethany closed in on Emily, taking the top button of her blouse in her fingers, “This…um..like…job has, like, a physical requirement.”

“Miss Kean!” Emily shouted incredulously as the button was undone; she was stupefied, shocked, unsure of what to do, shaking her head, she raised her hands to push Bethany away as the lustful woman hurriedly undid the next button and pressed her wet lips against the intern’s exposed cleavage.

“I’m a bimbo, you’re a bimbo.” Bethany cooed.

Emily’s eyes went blank for a moment. “I am a bimbo.” She repeated dully.

Emily shook her head. Instead of shoving Bethany aside, she sighed and inhaled deeply, resting her hands on Bethany’s shoulders and squeezing them while the other woman clumsily undid her bra, revealing her heaving, spherical, symmetrical tits, her tan nipples hardened like nails as Bethany’s mouth fell about them, her lips squeezing and sucking them.

“Oh…Miss Kean…Miss Kean…like…do me…do meeeee!!!!’

Emily shrieked in a high-pitched childish voice. Bethany pushed Emily onto to the glass surface of the exposed copier, the intern shoving down her skirt and panties while the executive threw down her own pants and underwear down. Bethany crawled up so that she could lean over Emily’s now exposed moistened cunt, beckoning her by its glistening surface, while she pressed her own down on the young Asian’s woman’s face. The two locked together, tonguing each other’s pussy fiercely, slathering cunt lips with spit, savoring each other juices, invading their hungry vaginas, their voices moaning or engaged in primal grunting as they assaulted one another, grasping each other’s asses as they thrusted their sultry mouths and sucked, finally streaming as they came and filled each other with more of their cunts’ honeyed offerings. After holding each other tight and panting, the two broke away and slid off the copier, returning to their clothes.

“Like, you know, you are one way hot bitch, Miss Kean.” Emily said as she flipped her hair, her voice was still a bit higher than it had been

“Fuck, honey, you’re, like, yeah, not bad yourself. Later, girlfriend!”

Emily tried to return to her copying task only to stare stupidly at the machine. “Like how does this crappy thing work!?” She muttered to herself, pressing some buttons haphazardly. “Aw shit…”

She kicked the machine gave it a curse, flipped her hair again and finally stomped out, leaving her unfinished work behind.

“Damn, so fucking hard to think.” Emily muttered to herself. “Need another fuck. Baaaad!” Then something occurred to her. The mailroom guys…specially that latin guy…all those tanned muscles…oh yeah, he’ll do a body good!”

Smiling, Emily skipped away, consumed with the vision of becoming a human pretzel with the three men that worked in the mailroom.

Meanwhile Bethany was on the elevator heading down. She suddenly gasped as if what she had just done had suddenly dawned upon her: she had forced herself on another woman and raped her…no it wasn’t rape because Emily wasn’t exactly unwilling. Somehow, Bethany had made Emily act like she herself was acting: sex starved and ditzy, like a bimb…. No! She had to see a doctor, a psy…puh-sy…a shrink and fast.

Bethany ran onto the street and headed toward the subway, focusing on each step she was taking, anything to keep her mind from wandering. But then she looked up and there was a man, somewhat handsome, giving her a look in passing. She smiled slyly, pondering what he might look like naked, how well endowed he might be. She forced herself back to focusing on her steps, but there she was, looking at another man, catching his attention, winking at him, making him blush. She smiled even more broadly. It was like she had a power, a secret power to turn men…and women… on. She undid the top buttons to her shirt and spread it wide, to show the slopes of her cleavage. She started to walk with hips swaying, her shoulders joining their movement with an exaggerated countermotion, as if she were a runway model or…a street walker. There were more looks, from men and women, approving and disapproving, whistles, cat calls, all for her, and she drank them all in like fine wine.

“FUCK!” Bethany screamed in her mind. She hailed a cab and scrambled into it.

“Like…2211 Broadway! Way fast!” She barked.

The cab tore off through the New York streets; its haphazard stops and starts combined with near collisions thankfully took Bethany’s mind off her current troubles. When it finally stopped, she pulled out her purse. Her jaw fell open as she found a black hole staring back at her; she hadn’t had a chance to get to the bank machine today.

The cabbie coughed impatiently, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Bethany grew nervous; she frantically thought of a solution.

“I haven’t any money.”

The cabbie growled.

There were a thousand things Bethany could do: she could have him drive her to a bank machine, she could give him her license while she went up to get her emergency cash or she could just run for it. These options vaguely occurred to her but she could not grasp any of them until the most unusual sprang forth and she seized it.

“But I can give you one hell of a tip.” She found herself saying, pulling open her blouse.

The cabbie’s head turned around violently as if he couldn’t believe what the mirror was showing. Bethany undid her bra to show she was serious.

Visibly excited, the cabbie drove into an alley for a bit more privacy.

He joined the executive in the back seat, finding she had undone her pants and panties. He lowered his jeans and showed his arousal. He was quick, rocking on her, shoving his prick into her over and over again. Bethany let him have his way, even though his beer gut was nearly crushing her; the air she managed to inhale was poisoned by the smell of nicotine and bad aftershave. Strangely, she was aroused by his anamalistic grunting, the feeling making her cunt juice the necessary lubrication so the experience was not so painful. She sighed with each thrust, giggling when he finally came.

Finished, the cabbie, leaned back and yanked up his pants.

“Here’s my card. Any time you want a ride, call me.” He chortled.

“You so funny!” Bethany tittered as made herself somewhat presentable and exited.

She strode into her co-op building, swaggering like a whore on parade, but then she got control of herself once more and fled to her apartment. She bolted the door and sank down to the floor. What the hell was happening to her she demanded once again. No answer returned to her ardent plea; the room was silent except for her own heavy breathing.

One thing for sure, no matter what, she needed a bath. She threw off her clothes, started the water going in the tub and sat down waiting for it to fill. Suddenly she had a craving. It was weird, she wanted something she had only tried once or twice before. She vacated the bathroom for just a moment, picking up some cigarettes in a drawer; some of the mementos from her sister’s visit a couple years ago. Bethany had let her have free rein of the place while she was in town; Bethany herself was out working and hardly even saw her cib. If it wasn’t for some clothes and these cigarettes, she might not even have remembered that she had even been there.

Bethany returned to the bathroom, lit a cigarette and sank into the tub. She took a drag like an old pro, holding the smoke in her lungs for quite a while before releasing it. She continued this over and over; it together with the warm water relaxing her. Maybe she could get through this; maybe all she had been through today was a nervous breakdown.

Dunking the cigarette in the water, she got out of the tub and ran the towel over the beads of water slipping down her body. When she caught her own refection in a full-length mirror, she suddenly paused. She stared at herself as she would a painting with an allegorical mystery to untangle. She brushed her light brown hair back with her hand, looking over her heart shaped face, chiseled with lines left by the dawn of middle age and too many late nights at the office. She was pretty good looking; she hit the treadmill when she could and lifted light weights: her long limbs were fairly well toned. Her chest was pretty good: she was in the classic size and that always suited her just fine, starting to droop though. Maybe some enlargement there would be good. They can do wonderful things with those sillico…those implant thingies

Bethany slapped herself. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

She looked up chastened, her cheek red from where the blow fell.

“And I should get my hair colored blonde….”

She slapped herself again.

Bethany’s body began to tingle in response; her form began to shake, vibrate, as if in rebellion from her treatment of it, shaking as if the epicenter of an earthquake was inside of her. She tried to protest, but could form now words, only a groan edged by the shaking she was enduring.

“Ngggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She cried.

Something else was happening; her vision in the mirror was changing. Those lines on her face were smoothing over, returning her countenance to an earlier time, several years in the past. But other parts of her body were changing in different ways. Impossibly, her waist was cinching of its own accord, giving her wider hips. More obvious though were her breasts, swelling, expanding, taking on mass as if they were being inflated. She gripped them as if to contain them from growing but they did not stop, she was one size bigger, two sizes, three.

Finally, the shaking stopped; Bethany gasped at the final visage in the mirror. She looked like an adolescent male’s fantasy of a woman. She looked as she might have had in just before she turned 20 with arching eyebrows, twinkling eyes, a fresh cat-like face, with a lip raised in a slight sneer, devoid of the experience of her real age. Her tits were massive, large full globes with wide nipples. Even despite their girth, they were strangely pert, defying the temptation to sag, they jiggled slightly when she moved them; showing their size was natural. And now she had hips she could really wag.

Bethany’s mouth was hanging open at the change; she wanted to scream, but this body, its mind had other ideas. Her hands were still about her gargantuan boobs; she squeezed them; the feeling was such she leaned her head back and sighed loudly. Who could resist these tits she wondered, she would be the envy of every woman and the desire of every man. She squeezed the nipples and massaged the flesh; the tingling merged with that building in her crotch. Her thighs clenched together as she thought about someone else taking these in their mouth or hands. Sinking to her knees another hand sank to her begging cunt, her desirous clit, giving them the touch that her tits had heretofore solely enjoyed.

She enjoyed her new body for hours; bringing herself into wracking, shuddering power throes of orgasm, the joy making her scream with ecstasy. After each surge, she repeated the process, over and over and over until exhaustion took her and lay down on the cold bathroom tile and fell asleep.

Part 2: High Society
By Andrew J. Mellon

Bethany Keane pressed the elevator button for the garage. She didn’t have a car; she was going there because didn’t want to go through the lobby; she didn’t want to be seen in her current condition. What would people think? She was a brilliant up-and-coming executive for a major multinational corporation; but now, after a visit by a mysterious stranger named Devlin, she had the body of a porn star. Her boobs were so big she had to cast her eyes far skyward to get them out of her view.

“Like, Pam Anderson’s tits are like so a-cups compared to mine.” She suddenly giggled aloud in a high childlike voice.

Bethany checked herself. Her mind had changed with her body too. She had the mind of…a porn star? She didn’t know any porn stars. (Some of them were probably pretty shrewd.) She still had her old Ivy League mind, but it was a mind operating in a fog. She could only concentrate on small things, very small things. It was too hard to think about complicated subjects, her brain almost repelled them like magnetic poles with a similar charge. Worse, she couldn’t control herself, she couldn’t control her body, her body’s desire to satisfy its sensual needs took over. It was a hungry body, hungry for fucking, by partners or by herself.

Bethany would have much rather stayed in her apartment than let the world’s temptations beckon to her body, but eventually, she would have to venture out, if only to see a doctor about what was happening to her; if she was going to be in public she needed some clothes, at least a decent blouse that could handle her titanic boobs.

All Bethany had in her apartment that could possibly fit her was a Bon Jovi t-shirt she had bought at a concert back in college. She gotten it in an extra large to use as a make shift nighty. Now, it fit only too tightly across her chest, her tits fighting for freedom against the fabric, the nubs of her nipples prominently visible. This together with some jeans seemed appropriate to get her outside until she could get something more seemly.

Looking up at the elevator numbers, she counted them off as they lit up.

“21…20…19…18…17”

She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

Counting, though, was soooooo boooooring, and Bethany looked down for just a moment catching her reflection in the doorway. Her brown hair was teased into large tendrils. She had to get the color changed; brown, uuuuuugly, she wanted to be a blonde, bright blonde, so blonde it was blinding. Why? Because blondes have more fun, silly.

“Goddamit!” Bethany cursed returning to the numbers.

“12…11…10…9…8”

The elevator slowed at floor 7. Bethany cringed.

Someone was going to get on, she turned around to face the corner, giving the entrant her back.

The doors opened, and the someone got on.

“Is that you Beth?” Said a melodious aristocratic voice.

“Shit!” Carolyn Chandler, super socialite, fabulously rich from three favorable divorce settlements, and president of the co-op board. Her long oval face with aristocratic nose, always turned up, held two sparkling eyes the color of deep azure. She wore white dresses, perhaps in imitation of Tom Wolfe, with whom she was on intimate terms as she was eager to point out to anyone within earshot.

“Somethin’ in my eye.” Bethany called back as she awkwardly tried to conceal her chest from view.

Carolyn failed to notice Bethany, more concerned with the reflection of her appearance on the shiny silvery surface of the elevator doors.

When elevator picked up again, Carolyn was blathering on about some important party she had been to, chuckling at her own witticisms. At first, Bethany appreciated the woman’s self indulgence, she had hardly noticed her at all, not her clothes, nor any of her…er…more startling changes. But then Carolyn’s ongoing prattling, her consummate arrogance and self-indulgent masturbation of her ego, even though benign began to annoy her, in the way that a child gets annoyed when commanded to sit still and silent in a room full of stuffy adults. Normally, Bethany just tuned the affluent socialite out; now, her voice, what she was saying, was like proverbial finger nails screeching down a chalkboard.

Finally, the reached the lobby, Carolyn exited. Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. But just as she turned around, Carolyn stuck her purse between the closing doors.

“Bethany, there’s a co-op board meeting this Friday and you absolutely must…” Carolyn’s jaw dropped at the sight of Bethany.

Bethany grabbed her, bringing her into the elevator for the final descent to the garage.

“Carolyn, please, like, something is sooo wrong with me and I way need help. Just, like, don’t tell nobody about me being like this…puh-lease!” Bethany pleaded.

The other woman pushed away.

“Get your hands off me you…you slut! You bimbo!

“Please.” Bethany moaned. “Oh no, if Carolyn kept on going, she knew what was going to happen, not that!”

“We have standards in this building my dear girl. This look is not the sort of that we want to have here and if you want to attract the wrong sort of element I will bring it up with the board….

“Shut up!” Bethany cried, it was an appeal more than a demand.

“You may have a property interest here but there are means at our disposal that we will use to protect the integrity of this building and its residents…”

“Shut up!!! Please.” Bethany told her again; she was getting angry, angry like a child, she couldn’t stop it.

“There is absolutely no place here for anyone who wants to look like some bloody tart of the street. Some bimbo!”

“I’m a bimbo, I’m a bimbo!? YOU”RE A FUCKING BIMBO!” Bethany screamed back.

Carolyn fell back against the elevator door as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her look of surprise faded momentarily into a glazed expression.

“I’m a fucking bimbo.” She said in a flat voice.

Coming back to her senses, Bethany rushed to the woman.

“Carolyn..Cary…babe…girl…like…are you ok?”

Carolyn’s stunned expression returned as she gazed back at Bethany.

“Oh…my…gawd.” She blurted out in a high voice, her voice tangy with an accent common to North Jersey.

“Oh, no! Carolyn, I’m like soooo sorry.”

“I’m all tingly. Whadidya do to me?” Carolyn squealed, and then giggled. The aristocratic airs of her countenance were fading away, leaving a rather wide-eyed confused look.

Suddenly, there was a sound of ripping fabric; Carolyn’s chest was beginning to expand and enlarge; her tits flattened themselves against her clothes comically, but then the pressure was too great to withstand; a tear formed slowly at first, but in an instant elongated all the way down to her navel, leaving her mountainous bosom fully exposed.

Carolyn pushed herself up, letting her torn dress fall to the ground. She was almost totally naked, except for the garter belt holding up her white stockings. Like Bethany, the rest of her body had been altered. Carolyn had always been something of a beanpole, with slender hips and shoulders; a strict vegetarian, she was skinny, almost bony. Now her shoulders were broader; her waist narrower, her form fleshier; her figure was now a voluptuous hourglass. The fine lines of middle age had evaporated as if they had never been there; Carolyn physically looked as if she were in her early 20s.

She poked at her bosom, staring at them with a stunned expression.

Unlike Bethany’s other conquest, the intern Emily, Carolyn’s bull headed self-absorption was delaying the full grip of the bimboization that encompassing her body, mind and very being.

“Ya fuckin’ cunt, ya made me like youse!” Carolyn shrieked at Bethany.

Bethany frowned, her anger against Carolyn surged within her, beyond her control, her face formed a look of childlike malice.

Bethany grabbed Carolyn and spun her around so that she could see her reflection against the elevator door.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart, I made you like me!. Bethany hissed. “Take a good look bitch, this is the real you now! A body meant for one thing, to fuck and be fucked.”

“Nooooooooo.” Caroyln howled as revealed her own look of terror.

Bethany grabbed Carolyn’s full breasts and gently squeezed them, taking her nipples between her forefinger and thumbs and squeezing her thick nipples.

“Feel that, you horny little cunt! Like it don’t you? Makes your cunny juice drip doesn’t it! Your, like, mind is so gonna bend so that you way do what your body wants.”

“Please…oh…uhhh…please…mercy…ya gotta have mercy…on me” Carolyn cried as her body showed it was tantalized by Bethany’s aggressive fondling, her body squirming slightly as her was chest worked.

Bethany rubbed her own hardening tits against Carolyn’s back, deriving some mild pleasure herself, letting one hand glide down Carolyn’s body, her tummy and then her cunt, both jiggling at the touch.

“Oooooohhhh…nooooo….” Carolyn sighed, her strong personality fracturing under the intense pleasure her body was savoring, her final betrayer. Long spider web shaped cracks formed in her ego, like glass hit repeatedly by a bee bee gun, her intelligence, her will, beginning to break.

“That’s right you big titted skank, you are sooo gonna be a slut. Like way!”

Tears formed in Carolyn’s eyes as her body began to rhythmically writhe within Bethany’s grasp.

“Jeeesus…like…Jeeeesus! Don’t…please…don’t…do dis to me!!!” Carolyn wailed even as her body’s snake like dance intensified. She tried to fight the words that were bubbling up, the request, the plea that Bethany fuck her brains out, because that was what her body wanted, her nervous system, her pleasure centers were screaming for it; at the same time her mind was bending to that combined yearning pulsing through her.

Bethany nibbled on Carolyn’s neck for good effect, the succumbing woman swooned.

“That’s it bitch, you’re a slutty bimbo, my bimbo.”

“Oh Jeeeeesus..gawd…my gawd!!! Whaddaya doin’ to me…Yes! Yes!!! I am ya bimbo!” Carolyn gasped in sobs. She couldn’t believe what she was saying, she was Carolyn Chalmers…THE Carolyn Chalmers, but this woman was taking her, possessing her, and she didn’t have the will to resist. The realization made her sink a bit lower.

“Not good enough whore, I made you, I rule you, you obey me! Understand?” Bethany laughed as she worked Carolyn, letting the sighs of the helpless woman in her grasp tell her that she was reaching climax; to bring her back, Bethany gave her tits a painful pinch.

Carolyn wanted to tell Bethany to fuck off, but she couldn’t, those feelings, driving her wild, she was drowning in them; and her tormenter had the key, all she had to do was completely surrender.

“Yes!!! YES!!! YESS!!! Ya bimbo!!! Like totally!!!. Youse can command me and I will obey!!!” Carolyn screamed, and it was true, she would do all that Bethany would ask.

Bethany pushed Carolyn away; laughing triumphantly to herself, leaving the woman fall into a quivering mass on the floor, pawing at her crotch, attempting to satiate her desire to cum, gritting her teeth as her hands fell upon her clit, massaging it.

Carolyn came repeatedly, but as Bethany presence became removed in distance and time, her old self roused her from her orgy of self pleasure. Finally she managed to slide up against the wall, chuckling stupidly to herself.

“Weeee, will ya look at me, I am the best piece a ass in dis place.”

Her voice woke her up and she grew concerned. “I gots to get myself together. Shit…I am not dis way. I’m not!”

Carolyn tried to sort through her mind and see what was left to her from whatever hex Bethany had cast upon her. All her knowledge of culture, of high society, of the English language, from a life time of being borught up in the right places, by the right schools, was still there, but ever so hard to grasp. All that information was like a mirage in the desert; you could run to it but it would just fade away. What was left were the simple things: easy words, rudimentary concepts, but most of all physical desires. Carolyn pressed her palms against her head and shook it as if that would get her brain back into working order. She screamed; this was her own personal hell and then there seemed no way out of it.

The elevator started to move. Someone had beckoned it to come. Carolyn trembled: she was almost completely naked. Her body was grotesque to her and now someone was going to see her like this!

The elevator stopped and the doors opened; Jeffery Plunket, a mild mannered English professor got on, at first lost to his own thoughts, but after he raised his head to Carolyn in order to offer some gracious pleasantry his jaw dropped at the sight of her.

At first, Carolyn wanted to melt into the floor and disappear, but the man’s reaction triggered something in her; her stomach began to have an aching hunger, and it wasn’t for food, it was for Jeffery. She was enamored with him as suddenly as if she had been hit by cupid’s proverbial arrow and she wanted him now.

“Oh shit, what da fuck is happenin’ No, don’t make me do dis!” Carolyn pleaded to herself, but it was a fruitless effort. Her body and mind were making her a creature of impulse, not of thought.

Carolyn through her shoulders back and spread her arms against the elevator wall so Jeffery could get a complete view.

“Why Dr. Jeff ya at lost for words?”

Jeffery could respond only with a prolonged “ngggg” sound.

Whatever protests Carolyn might offered, she could not voice them, she could only act and watch as she strutted forward and cupped a hand over the professor’s crotch.

“Going up?” She giggled.

The bimbo grabbed his belt and pulled him in, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest against his, her tongue assaulting his stuttering mouth.

Carolyn released him just a moment to ask, “Where ya wanna do it?”

Jeffery was beet red. “Not at my apartment. The wife…the kids…”

Carolyn reached over to touch the elevator button for her floor and then pressed her body tightly against her lover’s, as if she wanted to join with him completely, their tongue’s twisting within their mouth lock. When the elevator reached its destination, Carolyn and Jeffery moved off, still glued together, only Carolyn’s hands were fussing with her partner’s belt and trousers. She expertly moved both of them into a dark utility closet and got the door closed behind hind them.

In the pitch darkness, Carolyn let herself be pushed against the back wall as a lustful Jeffery began to take the initiative, his trousers around his legs his cock kissed slavering cunt, his hands grasped her ass. She responded by using his hungry palms as a seat, propelling her legs around his waist, squeezing it with her thighs, throwing out her arms and pressing her palms tightly against the walls to hold herself up. He grunted as he pushed his starving dick into her and began the staccato thrusting, each bringing out a louder and louder sigh. Each gaping draft of air she took brought in the smell of their own passion juices mixed with that of chemical cleaners and bleach. Carolyn threw her head back and began to scream as each push into her brought her closer to rapture.

“Yes…YES!!!…YESSSSS!!!!!!” She called out

When he came, the jerk of his cock sent her over the edge and cause her cunt to spasm as the throes of passion embraced her body.

After Jeffery lowered Carolyn down, he fell back out of the closet into the hallway beyond, panting with exhaustion. Carolyn smirked at him as he hurriedly zipped himself back up and staggered away.

“Any time ya need a study break prof, I’m here for youse.” She called after him and then smugly strutted down the hallway to her apartment with a self-satisfied smile.

“Gonna be the hottest piece o’ ass in dis shitty building.” She told herself.

But as she approached her door, she began to feel self conscious about her plight again: was this all she was going to be, a horny whore that had to do any man she saw. No! She had got get hold of herself, somehow, what had been done could be undone, she just had to figure out a way to undo it.

Once at her apartment door, she sighed in relief and turned the knob. It resisted. Of course it would, it was locked and she had left her keys with her tattered clothes on the elevator, which was now long gone. She could go retrieve them, but not like this, when she was doing these strange demeaning things.

“Miss Chalmers, is that youse?” Said a masculine voice.

Carolyn jumped, turned and threw her back against her door.

“Oh shit, not again…please not again!” Carolyn pleaded to herself, to her traitorous body and mind.

She found the maintenance man, Otis, a rugged pock faced man, but with arms like tree limbs and a chest to match. Otis had always been a non-entity to Carolyn. To her he had the same status as the coop furnace or the air-conditioning system. He as just something that made the building work; he was beneath notice as a person, a plebe, a peasant! And she made little effort to conceal her contempt for his low station whenever coop business had forced them to speak with one another.

This meeting was different. Her eyes were peeling away his clothes, her mouth and cunt jointly salivating over the iron body that lay beneath; a body to be touched, for her own to savor and enjoy. Most importantly was the snake, that bulge in his jeans, it must be enormous; oh to feel it erect and in her.

“No…don’t think dat way, please don’t think dat way!” Carolyn protested. But those objections were a fading voice as if lost in strong breeze. The new Carolyn was taking over, mechanically, obviously, it was too strong to resist. Already she was throwing out her chest, shifting her thighs and fluttering her lashes.

“Otis, good to see youse. I got locked outta da ‘partment.”

Otis frowned. Unlike Carolyn, he actually was from North Jersey and thought the woman’s affected accent was intended to make fun of him. He pushed her aside and used a master key to open the door.

Carolyn got close enough Otis to make sure he got an up close and personal look at the deep chasm of her cleavage.

“How can I evuh tank youse?” She said coyly.

“Just doin’ my job.” Otis grunted and turned to leave.

Carolyn swept into his path.

“Are ya sure? I didn’t give ya ya Christmas bonus yet. I’ll give youse, like, somethin’ real special.”

“I’m sure.” Otis said gruffly, putting a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder to push her away.

The real Carolyn was relieved at Otis’ rebuffs to her obvious invitations, but there was something within her that was both puzzled and enraged, but not with anger, with desperation. She wanted him; she needed him. Now!

“My fuckin’ kitchen faucet is drippin’. Could youse look at it” Carolyn blurted out.

Otis grunted again, strode into the kitchen and stomped out.

“Don’t see nuthin’ wrong with ya faucet

Carolyn was growing more and more desperate; what was wrong with her, she had a body that would make a gay man go straight and here this lowly maintenance man was acting as if he wouldn’t give her the time of day let alone the mercy fuck she so badly needed. She blocked the door.

“You’re not leavin’!?” She cried.

“What da hell is wrong with you, woman!?” Otis snarlled.

“Fuck me! Please fuck me! Do whateveh ya want to me, just fuck me!” She nearly screamed at him.

What was left of Carolyn Chalmers ego was now beginning to break, the cracks left by Bethany were beginning to creak with strain. How low could she get: even in this form, she was begging a man she hardly gave the time of day to before she had been transformed to use her. And that rejections just fired her desire more and more. She had to have him or die trying.

Otis smirked.

“On ya knees.” He commanded.

She sank to a kneeling position, looking up at him plaintively. The real her could see what was coming but whatever protest she could muster was not match for her out of control desire. She would do anything he asked, without hesitation, as long as she would get his cock inside her..

Undoing his pants, Otis slipped out his dick. It was so big, Carolyn’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. It wasn’t just snake, it was a python!

“Ya want it? Kiss it.” He commanded.

Carolyn found herself nodding, compliantly doing as he commanded, placing her lips on his cock gingerly at first, and then pressing them harder against its velvety surface. It began to lengthen under the stimulation, growing before her eyes; she was mesmerized, as if it were the hypnotizing dance of a cobra.

“Lick it!” He told her harshly.

Without hesitation, she drew her tongue up and down its increasing length. Otis murmured just a bit as she ministered to his manhood. His voice sent a pang of ecstasy through her; she was deriving pleasure from pleasing this man as he wanted, as he commanded. She realized in her stupid little mind that he had been leading her on, that he knew how to deal with women as she now was and she could do little but play to his tune.

This realization caused fractures of her ego began to whine even louder in her mind, fragments breaking off and disappearing into chaos. The formidable Carolyn Chalmers was giving her maintenance man a blow job at his command and she was loving it. Each time she hit a floor in this form, she fell threw it, finding a new low. With each fall came a perverse pleasure, like taking joy from some else’s pain: you know its wrong but the good feeling is oh so seductive.

“Suck it!” Otis barked.

And Carolyn immediately did, wrapping her lips around his stiffening penis, drawing it deep into her mouth, tasting its bouquet of mushrooms. Otis ran his hands through hair and gently rocked it back and forth so as to inform Carolyn of the rhythm he wanted. Carolyn took her cues, her lips curling into a grin as she heard him moan slightly, again parasitically taking delicious pleasure from his own. But it was more than that; it was his commands, his possession of her, try as her real self to deny it, Carolyn Chalmers was enjoying this domination, this subjugation of her. And Otis wasn’t done yet.

Otis pushed Carolyn away so that she fell on her back with a squeak. He kneeled down over her, unceremoniously turning her over with his powerful arms and lifting her to put her on her knees.

“Thats it. Stay like dat.” He ordered and she whimpered her assent. She shuddered as he stroked her wet pussy lips, testing the lubrication before he pressed his long shaft deep insider her.

Carolyn winced and sighed at the pain; strangely the feeling was enticing, the fullness of his penetration driving her wild. He started to rock into her; following his rhythm she did too: both pulling back and pressing together at the same time. He grunted when he drove in; she gasped. It was strange. This wasn’t the most pleasurable position for her; he was missing her pleasure zones, but those feelings were replaced by the intoxicating sensation of possession, under his control. It was nearly hypnotic how it took hold of her. She wanted to add to her enjoyment by going for clit, but her hand’s attempt to reach that nub was thwarted by his almost animalistic growl

Otis laughed as he watched this woman who had power over him serve as his fuck toy.

“Ya not such hot stuff now, are ya bitch?” He taunted

Carolyn moaned.

“Ya just some slut that wants to be fucked.” Tears welled up in Carolyn’s eyes. The last remnants of herself were finally being confronted with what she had become: a slut, a whore, a fucking bimbo, a woman whose one goal was to get laid. It was irrevocable now. Everything else was irrelevant to her but these feelings: fuck, be fuck, seduce, be used—these were her new missions replacing ambition, intelligence and culture. She was being made to give over everything she had striven for and was enjoying it.

“Come on, slut, tell me what youse is!”

“A slut!”

“I can’t hear you!”

She craned back her head and gasped “A slut!!! Oh god, a fuckin’ slut!!!! A bimbo!!!!”

With that call, her ego finally shattered completely; like a pane of glass struck by a rock it collapsed in total abject surrender to her new personality. Carolyn Chandler was a slut, a total slut, a slave of her sensual desires.

Otis finally pressed home one last time, nearly forcing her onto her chest has he stretched his cock with in her and then gasped as he shot gobs of cum into her. Laughing he withdrew.

“You’re a good slut…a good bimbo youse is.” He taunted as he pulled up his trousers.

Caroyln spun around and crawled to Otis, throwing herself at his shoes. She was panicking, she wanted more! “Ya not going to leave me, are youse!? Please ya gotta stay and fuck me? I, like, so need fuckin’ bad!

“Gotta get to work. Luis has gotta take his break. I’ll send him up here to keep youse company. When he’s done, maybe Henry the doorman…or maybe those trash guys.”

Carolyn purred at the thought of taking all those men. That was what was important to her now: being the hottest piece of ass in the co-op. She was ready for all comers.

“I’ll be waitin’ hon.”

“I’m sure you will.” Otis said as he left.

Carolyn rushed to her vanity. If she was going to have company she had to get ready. She had some hot red lips stick and nail polish left over from a Halloween get up; she painted her lips and nails the bright red color, then put on clumps of mascara. Why was she doing this? Men liked make up; she liked men and wanted men to like her.

She winked at her colored face as a knock came at the door. She ran over to it, opening it slowly and batting her eyes coyly at the man beyond.

“I’m Cary.” She said in her high-pitched nasal accent. “Wanta take a ride?”

- The Sinner
thesinner@bad-candy.com
http://www.asstr.org/~sinner/∞
Chapter 1

Suzanne

inside. I sat up and peered through the eyepiece of the telescope,
examining the warmly dressed figure descending the steps. It was her.
The drab grey overcoat hid the curves of her nubile young body from
view, and the wide-brimmed hat she wore shielded her face, but the
cascade of blond hair flowing down her back, as well as the youthful
spring in her step, gave her away.

street, trying to figure out where she was going. Up until now, she’d
only left the apartment to go to work, either at one of her photo
shoots or at one of her temp jobs, or to go shopping. I had her phone
tapped, and had kept track of her appointments, so I knew when she
went to work. This wasn’t one of those times. So it must be
shopping. But the stores she went to were in the other direction.
So… something else? May be it was a date. It was possible she
could have arranged a date with someone without a phone call being
involved. Unlikely, but possible.

three blocks away. I grabbed my coat and hat. Locking the door of
the hotel room behind me, I rushed downstairs and out onto the street.
Casually but briskly, I walked down to the intersection where she’d
disappeared. No sign of her.

decided to wait. So I took up a position leaning against a building,
watching the side street that my quarry had disappeared down.

had come on, she reappeared, coming out of a bar. She moved a bit
less surely than usual, as though she’d had a bit to drink. I
followed her at a distance of half a block until she reached her
apartment building and re-entered it. Smiling to myself with the
satisfaction of a mystery solved, I crossed the street to my hotel.

other night, always emerging a bit tipsy. I started going to the bar
regularly as well, keeping an unobtrusive eye on her. The bar was not
one of the upscale yuppie joints, but rather an old neighborhood
establishment, catering to older men. As a result, she had to fend
off a lot of passes from balding men with expansive waistlines. I
found it amusing.

bona fides as a regular patron, I made my move. My eyes were fixed on
her as I strode across the room from my regular booth to the bar where
she sat. Setting my drink down on the bar, I sat on the stool next to
her.

to shimmer in the subdued light of the bar. I almost lost my breath
as I look at her face. I’d seen it before in pictures, and from a
distance, but never up close and in the flesh. She was stunning. I
was pleased. Later on, almost any other aspect of the body could be
modified, but the face had to be good from the start.

I’m not bad-looking, if I do say so myself, and I was a good bit
younger than the average suitor. Her ocean-blue eyes twinkled in the
light.

I’ll just have to tell you that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

Modesty, of course; she couldn’t possibly think she was anything less
than gorgeous.

unemployed at the moment, temping and trying to get some part-time
modeling work. I made a few jokes about the sorts of jobs you get
from temp agencies, and she laughed and agreed with me. I bought her
a drink, casually slipping a pinch of white powder into it. As the
conversation progressed, she opened herself up more and more to me.

she’d left to go to college in Michigan, majoring in “media arts.”
After school, she’d moved to New York City, where she’d worked for
about a year as a catalog model for a few local department stores,
making a decent living. It was a week-to-week type of existence; she
didn’t have any contracts, but she’d been getting quite a lot of
offers for short jobs. She’d been well on her way to a successful, if
not lucrative, modeling career.

the offers had stopped coming. The photo managers had started telling
her that they were looking for someone a bit taller for such-and-such
a shoot, or that what they really needed was a brunette, or a redhead,
or someone with a more “motherly” look, or whatever. She hadn’t had
any work for about three months, and was filling in with jobs from
temp agencies. What was really depressing, she told me, was that she
had no idea why her career had gone belly-up so suddenly.

lot about her life, in some areas even more than she did. For the
past four months, since I’d first laid eyes on her in a sportswear
catalog, I’d been keeping a close watch on her. The reason she was
having a hard time finding work was that I was bribing the photo
managers not to hire her.

her. But every time she applied for a job, I anonymously contacted
the prospective employer, and pretended to be a relative of one of the
other models applying for the job. I told them how I really wanted
young Deirdre or Teresa or Holly to be successful, and wouldn’t they
please hire her if I gave them $1,000 cash? It’d cost a bundle so
far, but I could afford it. I looked on it as an investment.

luck, something that happens to everyone now and then. She smiled
sweetly at that, and thanked me for the support. I bought her another
drink, and over the next hour I coaxed even more information out of
her. She didn’t get along well with her parents; they were extremely
conservative and didn’t approve of her career choice. She lived alone
and had no real friends in the city. She had been in one relationship
since college, and she’d broken it off three months ago.

evening, she was now extremely trusting of me. When the bar closed, I
suggested we continue the conversation at my place. She hesitated a
second before agreeing. I took that as a sign that she didn’t usually
go home with guys she met in bars, which was probably a smart policy.
A girl could run into all sorts of unsavory characters in a place like
this. Me, for example.

real apartment, of course, but one I was renting under an assumed name
in a complex that catered to upscale young singles. I didn’t want her
to know where I really lived, just in case something went wrong.

(It was clean and neat mainly because I spent almost no time there.)
I showed her to the couch and fixed another pair of drinks; light on
the booze this time, because we’d both need plenty of energy for what
was coming up. To her drink I added just a dash of a second,
different drug.

chatted some more, and gradually our bodies moved closer and closer
together. I managed to keep things calm until she’d finished her
drink; I wanted to make sure the drug had taken full effect before we
went to bed.

responded with a fierce passion that let me know that I’d gotten
things right. Making sure to keep control of the pace of things, I
moved us from kissing into necking and petting. Her hands were
vibrant, running across my chest, back and shoulders while she nibbled
greedily on my earlobe. I lightly cupped her breasts and she moaned.

glances at the clock on the wall) I began to go further, gradually
moving the center of my attention on her body from her breasts down
across her stomach. I caressed the insides of her thighs,
occasionally coming close to her crotch, but never actually fondling
her there. I could tell this was getting her excited.

she pulled her mouth away from mine and looked at me with flaming
eyes. “I need you,” she breathed softly.

commonly used in ancient India to heighten the female sex drive. Two
milligrams, taken orally twenty minutes before the beginning of
foreplay, was guaranteed to give a woman a mind-blowing orgasm, far
beyond what she could ever have achieved unaided. Five milligrams
would give such a powerful ride that she would probably come down with
some sort of mental damage. For all I knew, ten would probably give
her a heart attack. Naturally, it was highly addictive.

three years of expensive on-site research, I had found the recipe.
Requiring extracts from several rare plants, it cost a fortune to
manufacture. Luckily, I had a fortune available.

bedroom. Laying her gently down on the bed, I brushed my lips across
hers as I unbuttoned her blouse. She was constantly moaning with
pleasure now. I undressed quickly and lay down beside her. She
quickly stripped her clothes off and embraced me, her crotch thrusting
at my erect cock.

about fifteen minutes before the drug had its maximum effect. I
gently pushed her onto her back. Gently teasing her nipples with my
hands, I lowered my mouth to her crotch.

to tremble. Slowly, ever so slowly, in order to heighten her
awareness, I began to tickle her clit with my tongue.

my upper lip against her clit while I did.

thighs to give her a chance to cool down. After a minute or so of
this, I moved my attention back to her pussy. The first touch of my
tongue immediately sent her back up.

there for awhile. This would enhance the experience for her when I
finally did allow her to come.

“Ohhh… Alan… It’s never been like this before…I need you so
bad…”

relax and enjoy it.”

“God, Alan, I need you… I need you now. Pleeeeeeease.”

alongside hers. Kissing her lips, I placed the head of my erect shaft
at the entrance to her pussy. Gently, I began to make soft, short
strokes into her.

strokes. She was going wild with the sensations. I knew it was like
nothing she’d ever felt.

and began pumping my hard, eight-inch-long member all the way to the
back of her cunt. She was writhing beneath me like a woman possessed.

me tight as she screamed in pleasure. The walls of her pussy were
like a velvet vise squeezing my shaft. I rode her as hard as I could,
while her crotch thrust furiously at my cock.

boiled over and I began to come. My stick semen filled her cunt to
overflowing, and I felt a large amount of jism squeezing out of her
pussy around my cock.

a series of quick gasps as she struggled to catch her breath. I
kissed her on the neck. “That was great,” I said.

that before.”

Everything had gone perfectly.

up well before Suzanne did, so I surprised her with breakfast in bed.
She was delighted. After she’d finished, we made love again, and she
had another mind-blowing orgasm, thanks to the secret ingredient in
the orange juice. After she’d rested a bit, I told her I had to get
to work, and offered to drive her home. She accepted. I got her
phone number and gave her the number for my apartment, but told her
that I was going to be very busy at work, so I doubted I’d be there
much.

agreed. We made plans to go out to dinner at a fairly pricey
restaurant. I assured her that I was picking up the tab.

early, with a box tucked under my arm. She greeted me at the door
with towels wrapped around her hair and torso, obviously having just
gotten out of the shower. She ushered me into the living room and
showed me to the couch.

her.

and opening it up. Her eyes went wide as she looked inside. She
reached in and pulled out a black satin party dress that glittered in
the light. “Oh, Alan… you can’t do this. This is too much.”

hoping you’d wear it tonight.”

pulled out a pair of matching black pumps with five-inch heels. An
expression of concern crossed her face as she examined them. She
looked up at me questioningly.

get dressed.” With that, she got up and walked down the hall. I
smiled to myself. Another small step.

beautiful. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, which were
bare except for the black straps of the dress. I’d bought the dress
half a size too small, so it squeezed her slightly, pushing her
breasts up over the front of the dress in an appetizing way. It
similarly hugged her thighs and legs, showing off her excellent
curves. The effect was amplified by the swing of her hips as she
walked on the high heels. She wore a pair of simple earrings and a
couple of gold bracelets on one arm.

“Let’s go.”

weather, current events, movies, and her career. I steered the
conversation away from myself. She trusted me implicitly now, and was
very open with me; I didn’t need to rely on a drug for that anymore.

She thought it was all incredibly romantic, and I knew she was falling
in love with me. She rested her head on my shoulder while we walked.

bedroom immediately, but I begged off. “Come on, there’s plenty of
time for that. Let’s sit down and have a drink first. Besides, I
thought it was only men that wanted to have sex right away after
getting home.” She laughed at that and allowed herself to be
persuaded to wait. She sat down on the couch while I went in to make
us drinks. Out of her sight, I added the contents of a small capsule
I was carrying to her glass.

had the previous night, and soon I was carrying her into the bedroom.
She was getting hot, and as soon as I put her down she immediately
began to take off her clothes. I stopped her as she reached for the
pumps on her feet. She looked up at me questioningly.

slightest hint of displeasure to creep into my face. She closed her
mouth, and said softly, “Okay.”

rest of her clothes and mine as well. She lay back and I moved over
her. As with the night before, I used my lips and tongue on her pussy
and clit to bring her to the edge of orgasms and hold her there for
several seconds, in order to heighten her desire and sensitivity.
When the time arrived, I lowered my rock-hard shaft directly into her
steamy pussy.

ecstasy. After a minute or two of this, I withdrew my cock. Gently
but firmly, I grabbed her legs, with the pumps still on them, and
raised them over her hips. I lowered them to my shoulders, giving my
cock a better angle at her pussy. Before she realized I was changing
our position, I thrust back into her.

deeply, savoring the feeling of her soft pussy walls against my cock.
Her moans increased in volume and frequency. “Yes…yes..YES!” She
was loving every minute of this.

down and began to fondle her erect nipples. She was tossing her head
from side to side as she bounced her ass on the bed, trying to draw me
in deeper on each stroke. Her moans reached a crescendo and merged
into one long scream of pleasure, as the walls of her hot, wet pussy
squeezed my dick, fueling my own orgasm. My cock throbbed as it
spurted jism into her cunt.

continued, my cum dribbling out of her pussy. We stayed locked
together for several minutes as she struggled for breath. I pulled my
softening dick out of her soaked pussy, a thin string of jism
following it. I lay down beside her and kissed her. “You were
fabulous,” I whispered.

you.”

bed,” of course), and once again she experienced a mind-blowing
orgasm. We lay in bed for awhile before I told her I had to get to
work. I promised her dinner again that night, which she eagerly
accepted. She was well on her way to being hooked.

This time, it was a dress in fire-engine red, a strapless body-hugging
design that left her knees exposed and tightly wrapped her hips and
thighs. Also included in the box were a pair of matching ladies’
gloves, two large gold hoop earrings and a pair of shiny red pumps
with five-inch heels.

of concern crossing her face. “Alan, you can’t keep buying me these
things. This is so… expensive.”

She was worried about looking like a prostitute. Which was really
kind of paranoid. The dress was a bit racy, but still within the
bounds of taste. Quite conservative compared to what she’d be wearing
before long.

said, you deserve it.” I kissed her gently on the cheek. She smiled
and went back into her bedroom to put it on.

dress sparkled in the light. Again, I’d bought it half a size too
small, so that her her breasts pushed out the top. I decided she was
right. The dress, combined with the pumps and earrings, did make her
look like a prostitute. Much more like an expensive, classy call girl
than a cheap street hooker, but a prostitute nonetheless. I asked her
to turn around for me so I could see the whole thing. She complied.
“You look gorgeous,” I told her.

shrimp and caviar. She was quite flattered at the amount of money she
knew I must’ve been spending on her. Again, we talked about
inconsequential things. After dinner, I surprised her by producing
tickets to an operatic version of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” at the city
symphony hall. She was suitably impressed.

quite a few male heads as we strolled into the spacious lobby. I
bought us each a glass of champagne at the bar to sip while we waited.
She held her glass up between our faces. “To us,” she said.

smiled at that and took a drink from her glass, imbibing not only
champagne, but the dose of aphrodisiac I’d slipped into her glass.

found our seats. After a brief wait, the lights dimmed and the show
began.

I’d noticed had started squirming a bit. Suppressing my glee, I
leaned over to her. “Are you all right?” I whispered.

second scene, when Hamlet was talking to his father’s ghost. She
leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Alan… I need it.”

“You mean now?” I responded, perhaps a bit too loudly, since the woman
behind us shushed me.

want to have sex right here in this building?” I asked, forcing
incredulity into my voice.

urgently, “I need it so baaaad.”

several theater patrons. We hurried up the aisle to the foyer. She
frantically gripped the inside of my arm as I looked around for a place
we could slip into. I spied a pair of doors leading into what must be
the reception area. I led Suzanne over and stuck my head inside.

of chairs sitting around the outside wall. The table was covered by a
fancy tablecloth. Arranged tastefully on top of it was a staggering
array of food. No doubt it was set up for a reception during the
intermission. Nobody was in it now, though. I hurried Suzanne inside
and closed the door.

mine. I could feel the sexual energy bouncing around in her body as
she gnawed hungrily at my lips. Placing my hands on her ass, I lifted
her up. She wrapped her legs around me as I carried her to the edge
of the table and set her down.

lie down on the table with her ass on the edge. I pulled away just
long enough to unzip my pants and free my stiff cock. I pushed the
red dress up her sleek legs, bunching it up around her waist. I
shoved her panties to one side, revealing her already-soaked pussy.
The drug was clearly having its usual effect. “Please, Alan,
please…”

it comes, honey,” I told her as I thrust my thick shaft into her moist
pussy. She gave a loud moan of pleasure as my cock penetrated deep
into her cunt. I grabbed her hips and began to take long, slow
strokes, pulling her down onto my shaft with each thrust.

gripped the edge of the table, providing leverage for her to thrust
her ass into me with each stroke I took. She gave a sharp cry of
pleasure each time my cock pushed through the soft folds of her pussy.

Her eyes were closed as she twisted her head from side to side. As
her noises intensified, I began to worry that someone would walk in on
us. I decided that was the risk I had to take, though. I picked up
the pace, pounding my hard shaft more quickly into her silky, wet
cunt.

I was sure her moans would easily carry to the lobby. I didn’t care,
anymore, though, because I was about to come, as well. Her pussy
spasmed and gripped my cock tightly, and I felt my balls heave and
begin to spurt cum. “Oh, God! Nnnnnngh!” she moaned as her orgasm
swept over her. I shot my entire load into her pussy.

minute while my orgasm passed. Suzanne was still lying on the table,
her eyes closed, the red pumps on her feet resting on my shoulders,
breathing deeply and moaning softly to herself. I looked up…

fifteen. He was dressed in a theater uniform, and was standing in the
service door carrying a plate of shrimp hors d’ouvres. His eyes were
wide as saucers and his jaw was practically scraping the floor.

raised my index finger to my lips and made a gesture to be quiet. He
didn’t react, but just kept on staring. Suzanne’s eyes were still
closed, so she didn’t notice.

Suzanne. A mixture of semen and cunt juice dribbled out of her cunt
and began to pool on the table. I grabbed a nearby napkin and wiped
away some of the excess before replacing her panties. Gently, and
making sure to keep her facing away from the kid, I picked her up and
set her upright on the floor in front of. She stumbled a little
before regaining her footing. I reached down and pulled her dress
down to cover her legs again, smoothing it out with my hands.

gasped, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

She turned around to grab it off of the table, and caught sight of the
kid still standing in the doorway. She froze, startled.

wrong room. We’ll just be going now.” I grabbed Suzanne’s purse off
the table. She was still in shock. “Honey… let’s go.” I said,
pulling on her arm. She swallowed and allowed me to guide her out.

gave the kid a wink. He hadn’t moved since I’d first seen him.

to look both flushed and white as a sheet. “My God, Alan, do you
think he saw us?”

“But what if he had?”

beforehand. It was your idea, after all.”

stayed for the rest of the show, but she had trouble paying attention.
On the way home, she brought it up again.

could’ve gotten caught; I mean, that’s bad, but what I’m really
worried about is that I wanted to do it. I mean, I just got the urge
right there in the theater, and I had to have it.”

urge in all sorts of weird places. It’s not something you can
control.”

thoughtful for a minute, then she leaned her head on my shoulder and
placed a hand on my arm. “Maybe it’s just the effect you have on me,
Alan. If that’s what it is, I don’t mind at all.”

yes, you will.

after the episode in the theater. I didn’t want to take things too
fast just yet. So, I dropped her of at her apartment and promised to
call her the next day.

success. The champagne Suzanne had drunk before the show had
contained not one, but two drugs. The first was her normal
aphrodisiac. The second drug was what was called a neural association
enhancer. The effect of the drug was to temporarily increase the
ability of neurons in the subject’s brain to reconfigure themselves
and make new connections.

experiment in behavioral study involving a dog, some meat, and a bell.
Pavlov would ring the bell every time he fed the dog. After several
days of this, Pavlov found he could get the dog’s mouth to water by
ringing the bell even without producing the meat. The dog’s brain had
rewired itself to associate the bell with food. And thus Pavlov
discovered what scientists today call the Pavlovian response.

more quickly. Experiments on lab animals with a similar drug had
shown a dramatic decrease in the amount of time required to establish
Pavlovian responses, sometimes by a factor of as much as five or ten.
The version I had was tailored to the human brain chemistry. I had
obtained it illicitly through a contact of mine in the military, where
it was highly classified, and then reproduced it in my lab.

fuck at the theater. Her brain had begun to form associations between
the various elements of that episode; the hard table under her ass,
the danger of getting caught, the revealing attire she’d been wearing,
the feel of the heels on her feet during the act, the slutty feeling
of having sex in a public area, and, most importantly, the extreme
pleasure of the orgasm she’d experienced.

But after only a few more drug-assisted experiences like that one,
Suzanne would be well-trained, the Pavlovian response firmly embedded
in her brain. By the time I was done with her, whenever the bell
rang, she would crave meat. Not just from me. From anyone.

Chapter 2

Shooting Off at the Mouth

showed up early, bearing a gift. This time, it was a black halter
top, a short white skirt, a pair of black pumps with the standard
five-inch heels, and a couple pieces of gold jewelry. Again, I
watched uneasiness flicker across her face, but only for the briefest
of instants, before she smiled, thanked me, and went back to her
bedroom to put them on.

as leverage to get her to wear anything I wanted. But to get that, I
would’ve had to start using strongarm tactics, openly threatening to
break off the relationship if she didn’t do what I wanted. This was
something I’d have to do eventually, but it wasn’t necessary yet. For
now, she was still willing to believe that I was a nice guy who was
really interested in her, and just had sort of an odd thing about
buying her clothes. I’m sure she was more than a little in love with
me, as well. It was better to play on this for awhile, nurturing her
feelings toward me while gently nudging her in the direction I wanted.
So I took it easy on the clothes.

clothes were half a size too small, and pleasant bits of Suzanne
strained against the fabric here and there. The black and white
clothes squeezing her supple body made her look just a bit trashy.
She didn’t look like a hooker, though. More like a woman who just
wanted to be sure to get a lot of looks. I complimented her, as
usual, telling her how beautiful she was. She accepted all this in
her usual way, with a pretty smile and a kiss.

Suzanne drew more than a few lusty stares from the teenage boys ahead
of us in line, and a number of disapproving and envious glares from
their dates. I wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her
protectively.

to get us to the movie well ahead of time, so that we’d be able to buy
refreshments. We did so, getting a large tub of popcorn and
_separate_ drinks; myself a large Coke, Suzanne a medium Diet Coke
with a couple of extra ingredients.

my arm around her, she leaned her head on my shoulders, and in every
way we behaved like an ordinary couple out on a date. Thirty minutes
into the movie, however, I felt Suzanne beginning to squirm against
me. “Suzanne?” I whispered. “Are you all right?”

“Uh… I’m fine. Just fine.”

felt Suzanne’s body rubbing against mine. “What’s the matter?” I
asked, trying to look concerned.

eyes. “I… I… I need it.”

The dosage of aphrodisiac I’d given her had been half again the size
of her normal dose.

squirmed past some annoyed people on our row to the aisle, and walked
out into the lobby. Fortunately, it was almost empty.

hall to a janitor’s closet. Thankfully, it was unlocked. We hurried
inside and she grabbed me and kissed me. Her body started humping
against mine through our clothing. I unzipped my pants and pulled out
my cock.

getting my next few words out. “I’m… uh… not… you know, ready.”

expression clouded over for a minute. “Well, it’ll be ready soon,
won’t it?” she asked, managing to avoid any sort of explicit
description.

don’t know.” I tried to look flustered.

necking. I fought with all my will to keep from getting hard. I’d
masturbated earlier that day in order to give myself some resistance,
but it was still hard to avoid my cock’s natural desire to spring to
action. When you’ve got a hot bitch like Suzanne trying to do the
bump-and-grind with you, it takes a lot of effort to keep your cock
from stiffening. But I persevered, and five minutes later, it was
still limp. Suzanne looked at me pleadingly. “What are we going to
do?”

wanted her to do, but it was important that she make the jump herself.

waited, praying her innocent young mind would figure it out. After
what seemed like an eternity, her left hand slowly, ever so slowly,
slid from my shoulder down my arm. I came to rest inches from my
cock. Suzanne was looking down at it, breathing hard, trying to steel
herself. With a faint tremble, her fingertips brushed my cock.

was the first time she had ever touched my cock. I fought it
desperately, willing myself not to get hard. Not yet! Suzanne closed
her eyes and gently touched my cock again, sending another spasm of
joy shooting up my spine. I was fighting a losing battle against
erection. Still trembling, Suzanne slowly began to rub my cock. She
was clearly very nervous about this, and only allowed the tips of her
fingers to touch my prick, rubbing it gently as it got bigger and harder.

touch and allowed my dick to get hard. Suzanne opened her eyes, a
nervous look on her face. I smiled reassuringly and kissed her. She
responded positively, increasing the pace of her strokes on my cock.

hand away. I would have been happy enough to let her keep stroking me
until I came, but it wouldn’t have been much fun for her. She needed
to have an orgasm in order for her Pavlov-drugged brain to make the
proper connections.

on the floor and spread her legs. Good, good, I though. She was
learning quickly. I pushed her skirt up over her waist and knelt
between her thighs. Her panties were wet with pussy juice. I pushed
them aside and drove my hard shaft into her cunt.

her pelvis at me, trying to draw as much of my cock as possible into
her silky pussy. I took long strokes, nurturing her growing orgasm,
listening to the soft moans escaping her lips. Her blond hair swirled
back and forth on the ground as her head twisted from side to side.
“Oh, God, Alan… Yes! Yes!”

screaming orgasm. She wrapped her legs around my ass, pulling me as
deeply as possible into her while her cunt squeezed my throbbing dick.
Her orgasm lasted nearly half a minutes. My cock, stimulated by the
pressure spasms of her pussy, shot several spurts of jism deep into
her cunt.

pulled out of her and got dressed again. Helping Suzanne to her feet,
I brushed her dress down and smoothed it out. As usual, she had had
her mind blown by the power of her orgasm. She snapped out of it
after a minute, and we went back to the movie.

causing her distress, as our quickie at the opera had, the interlude
in the closet seemed to have invigorated her, giving her a warm glow.
She happily sat through the rest of the flick, clinging to my arm, a
smile on her face. It seemed that the idea of sex in a public place
wasn’t quite so disturbing to her anymore.

after our usual bedtime drinks. I pretended to have trouble getting
it up again, and asked her to help me. She complied, rubbing my cock
with a bit more confidence. I held out as long as I could before
allowing myself to become erect. I then laid her on her back and
fucked her brains out.

Occasionally I would slip the drugs into her early in the evening, so
that she would get horny while we were still out. I was eager to
progress to the phase of her training, but I forced myself to hold
back. It was important to take things slowly, and let everything
proceed as if it were developing naturally. Pushing Suzanne too
quickly could ruin the relationship.

stroking my cock with her hands. Whenever it was possible, I rubbed
her clit while she was doing this to provide her with some enjoyment.
Eventually, I wanted to bring her to associate touching my cock with
her pussy getting wet. And of course, I always made sure that the
aphrodisiac and the Pavlov drug were working their magic before I
fucked her. And she always wore the high heels.

eagerly jacking my cock every time it came out of my pants, bringing
me quickly to erection. The girl had become quite skilled at giving
handjobs. Almost like a professional.

occasion. This time it was a pink summery dress with white polka-dots.
The top had a low-cut neckline, half a size too small as usual, so
that her breasts were slightly squeezed out the top. The skirt was
short, stopping several inches above her knees, so that her sleek legs
were well-displayed. And her legs looked even better on top of the
five-inch pink heels.

her, but simply smiled and thanked me. I knew she wasn’t overly fond
of them, but it was something she was willing to put up with. The
price she paid to be with me.

It was one of those tethered rides where the gondola is attached to
the ground by a rope. You pay the fare, and you’re allowed to ride
the balloon up and see the city for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then
the attendant pulls you back down.

reservation. I bought a pair of snow-cones which we slurped down
while waiting for the ride. The syrup from Suzanne’s cone colored her
lips and some of the skin around her mouth a bright cherry red. I
mused on this as I watched her eat her treat. The effect was to make
her lips look larger, changing the smiling mouth of the pretty,
innocent girl into the naturally pouting mouth of a cocksucking slut.
How appropriate.

climbed into the large wicker gondola. After a brief safety speech,
the attendant unhooked us and began reeling out the tether. The
balloon slowly rose into the night air. Suzanne and I looked over the
side of the basket at the shrinking park below us. After rising for
several minutes, the balloon reached the end of the rope and came to a
stop with a slight jerk. Suzanne snuggled against me on the narrow
bench.

felt Suzanne’s hand brushing my crotch. I looked at her, and she
looked back pleadingly. “Alan… I need you.”

“Let’s go ahead.”

out my flaccid dick. She began to caress it as usual, attempting to
bring me to erection.

important that her attempts to get me hard with a handjob fail
tonight. I’d thought I was having a tough time keeping myself soft
two weeks ago at the movie theater, but that was nothing compared to
what I was fighting against now. Suzanne had become quite the
proficient giver of handjobs, and it was a struggle to resist.

started, I was still limp. This was several times as long as it’d
ever taken her to get me hard before. Suzanne looked at me with
almost the same pleading expression she’d had on her face two weeks
ago at the movie theater. “What’s wrong, Alan? Why isn’t it
getting… hard?” She must’ve been desperate. This was the most
explicit language she’d ever used.

flabbergasted.

hard. Again, with a Herculean effort, I resisted. Five minutes
later, she paused again, frustrated and horny. She was becoming
increasingly fidgety, desperate for cock.

one… other thing you… could try…” I forced out, faking
sheepishness. I gently touched a finger to her mouth. Suzanne’s face
took on a disturbed look as she struggled with the idea.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to bend her knees, lowering herself
to face my cock. With the fingers of one hand, she tentatively
circled the base of my cock. Balanced on the pumps, with one hand
against the wall of the gondola to support herself, she slowly leaned
forward, her tongue extending itself from her mouth.

and that alone almost sent me over the edge. I contained myself,
though, and only let out a small moan. Hesitantly, Suzanne brought
her lips down to touch my cock. A tingling shot up my spine. Slowly,
her lips parted, and my cock entered her wet, warm mouth. She paused
and looked up at me, her lips encircling my prick, a questioning look
on her face.

much as someone whose mouth is stuffed full of cock can smile).
Slowly, she began to pump her head up and down on my shaft. She
wasn’t experienced, but she more than made up for that with sheer
enthusiasm. Soon she was pumping her mouth rapidly up and down my
stiff shaft. Occasionally, she would look up at me. That almost made
me come. Squatting on those high pumps, wearing those tight clothes,
her lips encircling a mouthful of my thick cock, Suzanne looked like
nothing more than a cheap whore.

wait. If she didn’t get to come, the whole episode would be wasted.
So I gently pushed her off my cock and told her I was ready. There
wasn’t enough space in the gondola to lie down, so I pulled her up to
a standing position. I lifted her skirt and thrust her panties aside
to expose her sopping wet pussy. Placing my hands on her ass, I
lifted her into the air, rested her ass on the bench, and impaled her
on my dick.

She wrapped her legs around me, her heels digging into my ass, trying
to pull me even deeper into her cunt. I withdrew until the tip of my
cock was just barely inside her pussy, and then I slammed it info her
again, hard. Suzanne squealed in pleasure. “Oh, yes, Alan…”

it slow. I started thrusting into her quickly and forcefully,
pounding my cock into her velvety pussy. Each time, I plunged my full
length in, filling her cunt with my balls resting against her ass,
then withdrawing until my cockhead was just barely touching her pussy
lips. She squealed with delight each time I slammed into her. The
gondola rocked slightly with each thrust. Soon, she was coming like a
storm, her cries carrying in the night air. At the same time, my jism
spurted into her waiting cunt, overflowing and dripping out onto the
floor.

gondola to come back down. Suzanne’s hair was a bit tousled, and I
heard a couple of snickers from a pair of teenage boys as we left the
balloon ride area.

was right to build on what Suzanne had learned in the balloon. Back
at her apartment, I fixed the standard drinks (including the Pavlovian
drug for her) and soon we were in bed together. She didn’t even think
about taking off the heels this time. Good girl! I mentally
congratulated her.

suggested that we might want to try something in which we might both
give each other pleasure. I was careful to avoid any explicit
wording, so that she would think this was as new to me as it was to
her.

her (not using that name, of course). She would lie above me, her
head at my crotch, and her crotch at my head, so that I could “lick
her down there,” and she could “you know, do what you did on the
balloon ride.”

and she positioned herself above me on her hands and knees.
Teasingly, I tickled her cunt with my nose and tongue, causing her to
gasp. Slowly, she lowered her mouth onto my cock and began to pump.
I encouraged her by licking her clitoris, occasionally giving it a
short suck with my lips. She responded by increasing the tempo of her
pumping.

I felt her tongue begin to caress the underside of my cock as she
continued to bob her head up and down on my shaft. God, that felt
good. I felt a powerful orgasm welling up in my balls. I began to
thrust my tongue into her wet cunt. She shuddered in pleasure.

only a few days ago, and already I had her giving head like a pro.
Her tongue was now swirling back and forth around my cock. Now, for
the real test.

the pressure of semen preparing to burst out. “I’m about to come,
honey… go ahead and swallow it.” She didn’t try to break away, but
just kept on pumping her head up and down on my shaft. The drugs and
my cunt-licking had pushed her over the edge. She would do whatever I
asked, just so that she could come. The bitch was mine. She didn’t
realize it yet, but she was all mine.

orgasm just as I shot my load down her throat. Her whole body shook
as she came, and my cock pumped wad after wad of jism into her mouth.
Following my instructions, she sucked it all down. She was too far
gone with pleasure to think about doing anything else. A dribble of
my cum, mixed with her saliva, trickled out of one corner of her
mouth, running down her chin.

drug-enhanced orgasm thundered through her body. I kept working at
her clit in order to stretch it out as long as possible. When it
finally subsided, my dick fell out of her mouth, and she rolled over
and flopped on her back beside me, a stunned look on her face.

honey? Wasn’t it good for you?”

turning into?”

whatever they want?”

It feels cheap.”

two people who love each other giving each other…”

each…”

in the corners of her eyes.

that absolutely.” I was lying, of course.

salty taste of my own semen in my mouth. “You’re so wonderful. I
love you, too.” She rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes.
Soon, she was fast asleep.

“breakfast in bed,” I got up and served breakfast in her dining room.
(Actually, it was more of a “dining nook.”) When she woke up and came
out into the kitchen to find me, I told her to go back and put on her
pumps. She complied without hesitation. By this time, thanks to the
drug, her brain had been coaxed into forging a link between high heels
and sex.

looking sexy as all hell. We sat down to eat. Her glass of orange
juice contained the usual drugs. I made the meal into a long,
drawn-out affair, so that she started getting hot midway through.
When she at last told me, I informed her that she would have to suck
me off in order to get me hard first.

feet, balanced on the heels, sucking my dick like there was no
tomorrow. I reached down and played with her tits, eliciting moans of
pleasure in between her loving strokes on my cock. Her head bobbed up
and down on my shaft as she sucked like a vacuum.

turned her around to face the table and gently pushed her down until
she was flat on her stomach, her luscious ass facing up at me. I
spread her legs apart and proceeded to fuck her pussy from behind,
pushing her into the table with every thrust. Moaning and gasping the
whole time, she came like a bitch in heat as I shot my load into her
creamy cunt.

Each time, I brought a new outfit for her. Sometimes they were
expensive, sometimes cheap. but they were always promiscuous. Soon
after she first learned to suck cock, I noticed that she would greet
me at the door wearing a bathrobe and high heels. She had been
conditioned to the point of having a psychological need for the heels.

public place. Once she got hot while we were walking down a crowded
city street, so I rushed her into a nearby hotel, rented a room, and
fucked her brains out. Another time, I fucked her in a phone booth in
a bar.

we 69ed, I made sure that she swallowed my jism, and that she
experienced an orgasm at the same time. In this way, she would soon
grow to enjoy swallowing come.

mentally controlling my own orgasm as much as I could and by varying
the pace of the fuck to control hers, I manipulated things so that she
orgasmed right after I began to come. Soon she would associate the
pleasure of the orgasm with the feeling of an ejaculation in her cunt.
With luck, she would learn to use her cunt muscles to massage the dick
filling her pussy, so that she could get the come she craved out of
it.

aphrodisiac. Soon I was able to fuck her almost immediately after she
told me she “needed it,” rather than having to go through the hassle
of eating her out to get her wet and ready.

theater. It was reasonably safe, since the theater wasn’t crowded,
and there was nobody in the last three or four rows, but Suzanne did
freeze once or twice as people walked past on the way to or from the
snack bar. No one saw us, but I brought her to orgasm so hard she
almost screamed in spite of herself.

near the end of the movie, so we left, and headed back to my car. We
were halfway across the parking lot when her hand shot to my crotch
and her teeth grabbed my lips. She let out a moan of need.

on the hood of a truck nearby. She lay back invitingly. I unzipped
her black leather miniskirt, and discovered to my surprise that she
wasn’t wearing any panties. I look up at her questioningly.

stammered.

having her never wear panties, but I thought I’d have to coax her
through that like I had everything else. Suzanne was going to be a
better slut than I’d ever imagined.

Suzanne lifted her legs and rested them on my shoulders. She was
wearing black fishnet stockings that night. By then, I was able to
pretty much dress her as I pleased. Grabbing her tits through the
fabric of the pink halter top, I positioned my cock at the mouth of
her cunt and slammed it home.

have been really in need of a fucking that time, because she came
within thirty seconds of so. By the time she’d come down, I was still
hard. Her cunt relaxed and stopped caressing my cock, so I wasn’t
getting as much as usual out of this.

first, I was angry. How dare the bitch beg me to fuck her and then
push me out? But then I realized what she was doing.

Crouching in front of me, balanced on the stiletto heels, she took my
cock into her mouth.

blowjob on her own before. The conditioning had really worked. She
pumped her head up and down on my rock-hard cock like there was no
tomorrow, tongue rapidly circling my shaft. In the dim light of the
parking lot, balanced on black stiletto heels, her tits overflowing
out of the tight pink halter, the huge hoop earrings swinging back and
forth as her head bobbed up and down on my prick, Suzanne looked
slutty as all hell. Which was how I wanted her to look.

the cum beginning to boil up through my cock, and pumped harder. My
jism spurted out of my prick into her hot, eager mouth and she
greedily slurped it down. One strand escaped from the corner of her
mouth and slowly crept down her chin. When I was done coming, she
released my cock and closed her eyes. Slowly, trembling, she raised
one finger to her face and wiped up the escaping droplet of cum. Her
lips closed around the finger and she sucked on it.

soft moan escaped her lips. She was coming again! She had
experienced an orgasm just from tasting my cum. I was so proud of her
at that moment. I couldn’t let her know that I understood what was
going on, though. Not yet. I watched as the shuddering subsided. A
drop of pussy juice fell from her cunt to the pavement.

she said hurriedly. She stumbled to her feet, zipping up the dress and
running her hands through her hair. “Just… uh… a little dazed, I
guess.”

the car.

tasted come, I was prepared to take the next step. A couple nights
later, when we were in bed at her house, I made the move. I was
plowing my throbbing cock into her cunt, getting the usual moans of
delight, and savoring the feel of the fishnet stockings on my chest.
(By this time, she always wore pumps, stockings, and jewelry while
being fucked.) I brought us toward orgasm together. When I felt my
cock begin to throb like it was about to start spurting cum, rather
than stay inside her as usual, I pulled out and moved up her body.

clit, and began rubbing her clit. She closed her eyes, and resumed
her moaning. She ground her pelvis against my fingers. Keeping my
hand working on her cunt, I moved up and straddled her body, kneeling
with one leg on each side of her, my knees almost rubbing her armpits.
With my other hand, I furiously jacked at my shaft. Just as she began
to orgasm, I felt myself about to come. I aimed my shaft at her
pretty, unsuspecting face, and began to shoot my wad.

to notice. The second splashed across her lips and chin. A tiny bit
dripped into her mouth between her parted lips. The third hit her
forehead above her right eyebrow. I watched as her tongue darted out
to sample the cum around her mouth. My fourth spurt went into her
hair. Her tongue was now trying to bring as much cum as it could into
her mouth. My last gob of jism hit her left ear.

her a goodnight kiss, and, as usual, she went right to sleep, still
dazed from the fucking she’d gotten. She looked quite the picture of
the contented little whore as she dozed off to sleep, her faced
covered with my come.

love for me. By the way she talked when we went out, you’d think she
was still the same woman she’d always been. But before that evening
I’d always seen a sort of worshipful adoration in her eyes whenever
she looked at me, as though the world revolved around me and I could
do no wrong. I never saw that again after the night when I came on
her face for the first time. It was gone, replaced by a sort of
wariness.

night I came on her face, she was actively helping me, her hands
jacking up and down on her shaft, teasing the head with her tongue.
She was quite eager to help me come and spurt jism all over her face.
Afterwards, she would use her hands to wipe it all up and put it in
her mouth, where she would swallow it, often bringing her to another
orgasm.

until I was nice and hard, and then withdrew and placed my cock in the
valley between her boobs. Her chest was an ample 34C; fuckable, but
not perfect. Maybe someday I’d get something done about that. In the
meantime, I began to move my hips, sliding my cock up and down between
her tits. I pushed her breasts together around my shaft, squeezing
the nipples as I formed a tube for my cock.

that she should squeeze them around my cock. With my left hand, I
reached behind me and played with her pussy while I rubbed my shaft up
and down between her tits.

her usual trance-like state, Suzanne gathered all my jism up on her
fingers and licked it off, sending her up once again.

playing with her nipples as she squeezed my dick, and licking the head
of my shaft every time it thrust forward through her cleavage.

I didn’t have to touch her pussy at all. Her progress was amazing.
In less than a month, I’d completely changed this bitch. Using her
body’s natural responses, augmented by a couple of drugs, I’d turned
her from an ordinary woman into a cock-hungry slut.

Chapter 3

Taking charge

cunt, or kneeling in front of me sliding her lips up and down my hard
shaft, she was always willing and eager. The girl was in love with my
cock and would do everything she knew how to do to get it to yield its
load of precious cum. When she was getting fucked, Suzanne was every
bit the cock-craving slut.

becoming increasingly unhappy. She tried to hide it from me, but it
was obvious from the look in her eyes that she was no longer the
giddily-in-love Montana girl that I’d been dating a month earlier.
She wasn’t miserable, but she was definitely unhappy. I assumed that
what was happening was that she was starting to worry about what she
was becoming.

going to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. Despite the
fact that she’d been asked out on plenty of dates in high school,
she’d only kissed one boy before going away to college. In college,
of course, she’d been exposed to the wider world, getting intimate
with several guys, and having sex with two of them. Those experiences
had helped her discover that sex could be a beautiful thing between
two people who loved each other. She’d told me all of this at one
time or another.

from Montana who’d been taught by her parents and her church that sex
was essentially an evil act, one that good people only engaged in when
it was absolutely necessary to create another human life. Enjoying
sex was evil, she’d been taught, and women who enjoyed sex were trashy
sluts.

her any distress, because she’d been in love with the two guys she’d
had sex with. Similarly, the mind-blowing orgasms she’d experienced
during our time together hasn’t been of any concern, because she’d
been madly in love with me, and she’d thought I was in love with her.

mores instilled in her by her upbringing were trying to reassert
themselves. The love she’d felt for me before had made her feel
secure about enjoying sex, but it was losing its power, and losing
ground to the old taboos.

sex. When she was fired up and hot to trot, she was still the same
fuck-hungry nympho she’d always been. And since she tried to hide it
from me, I could plausibly pretend not to notice the change in her
mood. So her increasing unhappiness was nothing to worry about.

looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I would turn to look at
her, and, just for an instant, catch sight of wary, suspicious look on
her face. Her expression would always change to one of pleasant
happiness as soon as turned my head, but slowly enough that I could
catch a brief glimpse into her mind.

her to a whole world of pleasure she’d never know before, and she was
starting to suspect I had some sort of ulterior motive.

some clothing for her when I picked her up, or told her ahead of time
what I wanted her to wear. She always complied. She never confronted
me about the clothes I made her wear, or the tit-fucking, although I
knew they bothered her.

about these things, when she obviously enjoyed wearing the clothes and
having her tits fucked. Also, I’m sure she was worried that if she
started an argument, I might leave her. Like I said, she was addicted
to the sex. I planned to drive her to rebellion eventually — that
would be necessary before the proper relationship could be established
between us — but in the meantime, I was content to let things go on
as they were.

nymphomaniac. All I had to do was slip her some aphrodisiac into a
drink, and thirty minutes later, Suzanne was lying on the floor,
eagerly taking my rock-hard cock into her wet pussy, or running her
lips and tongue up and down my shaft. Her sexual skills, though not
complete, were well-enough developed for the time being. I spent the
next month, the third of our relationship, moving her in a new
direction.

arrange for her to drink something, so I could drug her, and then wait
half an hour or so for her to get hot and beg me to do it to her.
This had been fine for awhile; I’d even gotten quite a bit of
enjoyment out of the challenge of arranging a drugging. But
ultimately, the drug was a liability.

frustrating. Several times I’d been dying to fuck her, and been
unable to arrange a drugging. For another, if I kept this up long
enough, the chances were good that Suzanne would notice me drugging
her beverages. That wouldn’t completely ruin my plans, but it would
force me to change them quite a bit. What I needed to do was bring
Suzanne more fully under my control.

picnic in the park. We had just finished feeding a couple pieces of
bread to the ducks in the pond. (I had arranged this, and many other
“romantic” activities like it, in hopes of reigniting her fading love
for me.) We had returned to our spread blankets and begun enjoying
the lunch I’d packed in the basket that morning: sandwiches, chips,
and bottled juice.

Suzanne. She rose, confused. “What’s the matter, Alan?”

hurried up the hill toward a stand of trees and bushes.

good reason. This was the first time I’d led her away to get fucked
that she hadn’t already been feeling horny. She’d had the drug, all
right, but it hadn’t taken effect yet. Nonetheless, she followed me.

outside view. Gently, I pushed her down to the ground and made her
lie on her back. I spread her legs and knelt between them. She was
getting quite nervous. Her mind wasn’t prepared to have sex in an
undrugged state.

a dozen times before?” I asked.

what to say. What she wanted to say, of course, was that this was
all wrong, that _she_ was the one who was supposed to tell me she
“needed it,” not the other way around. Obviously, she realized how
selfish this would sound, because she didn’t actually say it. “I
don’t think I… I’m ready…” she protested feebly.

that, I lowered my mouth to her dry cunt. She nervously forced a
smile and lay back on the ground, clenching her fists at her sides.

was tough going. She was extremely tense, with all her worries about
getting caught and going to hell for being a slut running loose in her
mind. There was no way I could possible eat her into arousal.

few minutes. The change was sudden and dramatic. Suzanne’s body
relaxed, and she began to moan in pleasure as I continued to lick her
slit. She put her hands on my head, pushing it into her crotch,
bucking against my mouth. “Oh, God, that’s it, Alan, oh yessss…”

wild. I tasted the first gush of pussy juice as she began to respond
to my attention.

I positioned myself over her. “Here I come, honey, here I come,” I
told her as I shoved my cock deep into her sopping wet pussy.

error, she’d learned to use her cunt muscles to enhance my pleasure.
As I fucked her, her pussy massaged my cock, sending waves of pleasure
down my spine. Suzanne was an incredible fuck by now.

expertly squeezing my dick. The feel of my jism splashing into her
cunt was enough to send her over the edge into an orgasm. She bucked
and heaved, slamming her pelvis into me as my engorged dick shot my
seed into her belly. I collapsed on top of her, spent, as she
shrieked her way through her orgasm.

all our previous fucks was one of timing. Up until then, I’d always
given Suzanne the drug, and then waited for her to tell me she was
horny before fucking her. But this time, I had indicated to her that
_I_ was horny, and needed to fuck, before she had started getting
horny herself. Soon afterward, though, the drug had kicked in and
she’d felt the desire to screw. Her brain would associate the desire
(as well as the orgasm) with my telling her that I needed to screw
her. This would come in useful later on.

episodes of the first kind, the ones that I allowed her to initiate,
and phased in the second form, the ones that I started. Usually, I
timed it so that things happened in some public area, such as a
theater. We’d be sitting together watching a movie, or a concert, or
whatever, when I would suddenly grab her arm and stand up, pulling her
up with me. I’d lead her quickly out into the lobby and into whatever
semi-private area I could find. In a matter of minutes, she’d be down
on her knees, sucking my rock-hard dick like a three-dollar whore.

dick into her mouth would get her excited. And when the drug took
effect a few minutes later, and started her pussy juices flowing, her
brain took it as confirmation of this association. The Pavlov drug,
in turn, helped the brain to rewire itself to reflect the new
knowledge.

swallow every last drop of jism while her body shuddered in orgasm.
Sometimes I would pull away early, reposition her, and fuck her wet
pussy. She seemed to especially enjoy taking it from behind. I would
bend her over a table, or whatever surface was convenient, and she
would lie on her stomach, bucking against me as I pounded into her
sopping wet pussy. All the while, her well-trained cunt muscles would
massage my dick until I came, which always got her really excited.

face. While she was sucking my cock, I would reach down and give her
nipples a single firm squeeze. I’d developed this as the signal for
tit-fucking. She would respond by letting my dick slide out of her
mouth and readjusting her position so that her boobs were level with
my stomach. Then she’d place my rock-hard cock between her tits and
squeeze them tightly around it. Slowly at first, she would jack her
entire body up and down, squeezing and kneading her tits as they moved
up and down along my shaft. Every time my cock thrust into her face,
she would give it a quick lick with her tongue.

down on my shaft, her eyes closed in orgasmic pleasure, I had to
struggle to keep myself from coming in the first ten seconds. She was
one hot bitch.

start to throb with my imminent ejaculation. Suzanne could feel this,
and when it happened her response was always the same. She would take
my pulsating dick in her hand, point it at her face, close her eyes,
and begin to jack furiously at it.

she would start to shudder. As my sticky white come covered her
forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, she would try to wipe it up with her
free hand and bring it to her mouth. By the time I finished shooting
my load, she would be experiencing a full-on orgasm, swallowing as
much of my cum as she could get into her mouth. She never got it all,
though, and when she came down from her orgasm she would sit there,
breathing heavily, her face and tits glistening with come.

dropped the Suzanne-initiated episodes altogether. From that point
on, I fucked her whenever and wherever I wanted to, and she had no
say in the matter.

of changing the amount of time between when I slipped her the
aphrodisiac and when I unzipped my fly. But the association formed in
her brain was very different. These new encounters would reinforce in
her subconscious mind the notion that she should get hot whenever I
indicated a desire to fuck her. And, as usual, the Pavlov drug was
making her very receptive to these sorts of associations.

she’d been that in the park. I would always have to calm her down and
eat her out or finger her twat for awhile to get her to relax. And at
first, even this had little effect; she would remain tense and fidgety
until the aphrodisiac kicked in five or ten minutes later, at which
point she dived eagerly into slut mode.

annoying to have to sit there and twiddle her clit for ten minutes when
I knew damn well that the aphrodisiac would heat her up soon no matter
what I did. But this was important. So I stuck with it, and
persevered through the inconvenience.

attention, even before the aphrodisiac hit her. Once again, she was
learning a lesson, that getting attention from me would lead
eventually to an orgasm. Quite soon, she had reached the point where
the mere touch of my hands or mouth on her cunt would send her right
up. And a week after that, I only had to give the merest suggestion
of wanting to fuck, and she’d be eager to go. This was exactly the
effect I wanted. Of course, I still made sure she was flying on the
aphrodisiac before I let her orgasm.

in her, I moved on to the next step. First, I set aside the Pavlov
drug for awhile. At this point, Suzanne was as well-trained as was
really necessary. Later, I would bring it back, but for now it would
only get in the way. (Plus, the stuff was expensive.) Slowly, over a
carefully planned period of six weeks, I began to lower the dosage of
aphrodisiac I gave Suzanne before fucking her.

riskiest part of the whole procedure, and I really didn’t know exactly
what would happen. Even though I had known it was coming, the sudden
decrease worried me. I could tell that her orgasms were less intense.
The air of general unhappiness that had surrounded her for the past
couple months thickened.

been. It was important not to lose her now. Surprisingly, the
lessening intensity of her orgasms drove her to put more and more
energy into fucking, as though she thought it was her fault that she
wasn’t enjoying it as much, and she was trying to make up for it. I
actually felt sorry for the poor girl, and even a bit guilty. Here
I’d spent several months teaching her that sex was the most important
thing in life, making it the end-all, be-all of her existence, and now
I was pulling it away from her. And she thought it was her fault.

began to compensate for the decrease in the aphrodisiac dosage, and
her orgasms started creeping back up to their previous heights.
According to all the literature I’d read, this was supposed to happen;
the effect of the Pavlov drug was not confined to conscious actions
and desires. Rather, it reached out to affect all aspects of bodily
function. If you had a pin stuck into your toe repeatedly as you
listened to Beethoven’s Fifth while on the drug, hearing
“Da-da-da-daaaaah” in the future would cause you to feel a prickling
pain in your toe. Not just wince your eyes in anticipation of pain,
but actually feel real pain.

another. So I was visibly relieves when Suzanne’s body overcame the
decrease in drug dosage and began to deliver inhumanly strong orgasms
once again, as it had been taught. She was visibly happier; in fact,
she was happier than she’d been since the first time my come had
covered her face.

at least once a day, gradually reducing the dosage of aphrodisiac to
zero. Her sex drive remained rock steady for the rest of that period.
I was frankly amazed at the ability of her body to compensate for the
loss of the drug.

and told her to be ready to go out for dinner at 6:30, wearing the red
dress that I had given her on our second date.

kiss. “Hi, honey,” she said, bright and cheery. The moment of truth
had arrived.

push gently downward. With barely a second’s hesitation, she sunk to
her knees in front of me. Her fingers nimbly undid my pants and
brought out my rapidly stiffening cock. She lovingly caressed it a
few times, and then took it into her hot, wet, mouth.

deep strokes. At the top of each stroke, my cockhead would almost
slip out of her mouth, and at the bottom, my pubic hair would tickle
her nose. Suzanne had become very proficient at deep-throating after
discovering that it was the best way to get a lot of come. Her tongue
swished back and forth around my dick as she hungrily sucked on it,
occasionally flicking out of her mouth between her lips and my cock.
I placed my hands on her head and gently guided her up and down my
shaft. A thin coating of her saliva glistened on my dick.

Throughout the last week or so, as I’d continued to reduce the
aphrodisiac dosage toward zero, I’d constantly worried about what
would happen at the end. The decreasing size of the doses had not had
any effect on her sex drive, but I’d wondered whether that final step
might be fatal one. There’s a big difference between a tiny bit of
drug in your system, and no drug at all. I was relieved that Suzanne
could function just as well without the drug. Having to shoot her up
before she got fucked each time would be a serious impediment to my
plans for her.

to pump faster, swirling her tongue around my shaft at ninety miles an
hour. I released my load into her waiting mouth. She eagerly
swallowed as much as she could, but several drops of come escaped from
her mouth and trickled down her chin. Her eyes closed as a powerful
orgasm shuddered through her body.

bedroom. She emerged some time later with the come wiped from her
chin, and her makeup reapplied. She gave me a long, deep kiss. I
could smell my come on her breath.

ate in our own private room, with our own waiter. After the meal, I
sent the waiter away. Rising from my chair, I walked over to stand in
front of Suzanne. Bending over, I gave her a deep kiss as rubbed her
nipple through the taut fabric. Her hand shot to my crotch and
squeezed my rapidly stiffening dick. With nothing more than one
simple gesture, I had turned the quiet, refined lady with whom I had
eaten dinner into a cock-craving slut who would do anything to feel
warm jism shoot into her body.

facing me. Knowing what was coming, she pulled her dress up to expose
her cunt and lifted her legs to my shoulders. “Oh, God,” she moaned,
“I need it, Alan. I need it bad.” I glanced down as I pulled out my
rock-hard cock and saw that she was already wet. It had taken her
fifteen seconds! “Alannnnn… I need iiiiit!” she pleaded.

at the mouth of her cunt. “Here it comes, babe,” I told her, and
slammed into her.

hot pussy. I paused for a moment, just to listen to her moans. “Oh,
yes, yes…” Then, overcome by the display in front of me, I began to
piston my shaft in and out of her silky-smooth cunt. She responded,
thrusting her hips at me with each stroke. Her well-toned cunt
muscles writhed around my cock.

dishes out of the way. She allowed herself to be pushed back until
she was lying flat on the table. I leaned forward and grasped one
breast in each hand as I thrust my shaft in and out of her.

cock as deep into her cunt as possible. She emitted a moan of
disappointment as I pulled out of her pussy. I climbed onto the table
and straddled her stomach. Like a well-trained animal responding to a
familiar situation, she grabbed her tits and squeezed them around my
cock.

She lapped at my cock each time it thrust through her cleavage into
her face. I kept it slow at first because her skin was dry, but after
a while the pussy juice on my cock combined with her saliva to
lubricate her tits, and I began to fuck faster. She gasped and moaned
as I slid my shaft up and down in the valley between her breasts.
Thanks to the training with the Pavlov drug, she got off on this just
as much as she got off on sucking cock or getting her cunt fucked.

chest, I positioned my cock over her face. Suzanne grasped it with
one hand and began to jack up and down. When I came, she aimed the
jism into her mouth, and my first spurt splashed across her parted
lips and onto her tongue. She moved my dick for the next two wads of
come, taking these on her cheeks and nose. She took the next one on
the chin, and then placed my dick in her mouth and slurped down the
rest, sending her into another orgasm.

that just four months ago belonged to a shy aspiring model from rural
Montana who’d only slept with a man three times in her life now
belonged to a finely tuned sex machine. With the slightest
provocation, her calm, demure personality would drop away, and in its
place would be a well-trained living fuck doll.

first time was on the way home, when we got stuck in a traffic jam. I
was getting angry at the delay, because I’d been in a hurry to get
home and fuck Suzanne again.

assuming that I would have to get home and get the aphrodisiac into
her system before I could fuck her. But I was missing the obvious: I
didn’t need the drug to get her hot anymore. I could make use of her
body whenever I felt like it. I kicked myself as I began to unzip my
fly. Suzanne looked over at me, saw what I was doing, and immediately
leaned over to finish the job. She freed my cock from the confines of
my pants, and immediately went to work. Five minutes later, I shot my
jism down the throat of a very contented little slut.

again on her dining room table. No preamble; I just lifted her onto
the table. She immediately lay back and pulled up her dress. I came
hard in her, and she climaxed every bit as forcefully as she had when
she’d sucked my cock in the same room four hours earlier.

cherished the freedom I had to fuck her whenever and wherever I wanted
to, without having to get her to drink something first.

horny. As soon as the train pulled away from the station, I pushed her
onto one of the seats. Without hesitation, she lifted her skirt. I
fucked her hard for the next two minutes, and we both came just as the
train pulled into the next station. A couple of teenage boys saw us
and stared as we cruised past them. I stood up and zipped up my pants
as Suzanne pushed her skirt down and brushed it smooth. We passed the
snickering teenagers as we left the station. Suzanne, in a post-fuck
reverie, was oblivious, but I threw them a wink.

took Suzanne into a phone booth and had her suck me off. She complied
with pleasure, leaving some of her pussy juice behind on the floor of
the booth.

constant use. When she wasn’t in sex-toy mode, though, she was
becoming more and more morose. I couldn’t get her to talk about it.
I’m sure that part of her mind was becoming increasingly alarmed at
the growing casualness with which I fucked her, and that part was
desperate to leave me.

couldn’t even consider the thought of giving it up. Thanks to the
training I’d given her, the weakest of the four orgasms she had in an
average day was far stronger than the most powerful orgasm any other
woman could expect to experience in an entire lifetime. Women have
become addicted to sex far less powerful than what I was giving
Suzanne.

I’m not really sure; I certainly wouldn’t have expected myself to be
capable of it before I started doing it to Suzanne. My theory is than
any other man who had a hot pussy and a skilled mouth available
twenty-four hours a day would find it difficult not to make use of
them at least four times a day. When I was feeling really horny, I
could do her six or seven times in one day.

bothering her, and she let me dictate almost every detail of her life.
I moved into her apartment. I didn’t even discuss it with her; I just
showed up with a suitcase one evening and told her that I’d be living
with her from now on, and I’d need someplace to put my clothes. She
didn’t raise a finger in protest; she just obediently walked back into
her bedroom and made space for me in the dresser and closet.

this to even greater extremes than I had previously. When we went
someplace elegant, like a play or society ball, I would have her dress
in something elegant, but bordering on trashy, like the red dress I’d
gotten her for our second date.

her almost like a hooker. One of the outfits I liked consisted of a
white fishnet bodysuit that covered her torso, leaving her breasts and
nipples visible through the mesh; a short black denim skirt; and a
white denim jacket that was cut in such a way as to be impossible to
close, but which would just barely conceal her nipples. The gap
between her tits was openly displayed, and anyone who cared to watch
closely enough could usually get a glimpse of nipple. I bought
several of each component of this suit in different colors, so that
she could go in black or red or whatever combination of colors I felt
like.

halter top with horizontal black and white stripes and a black-and-red
pleated skirt. On her feet she wore red-and-white-striped socks and
red spiked heels. The outfit was completed by a pair of white kids
gloves with red polka dots, a black bow in her hair, and a pair of red
plastic hoop earrings with white spots. This outfit was the least
slutty of her “casual” ensembles, but it still got the attention of
plenty of people, particularly older men, who were no doubt drawn by
the almost childlike, yet extremely sexy look of it.

slut ensemble. This was a black halter top with an obscenely low
neckline; a shiny red leather skirt, cut extremely short, just barely
covering her ass and hugging her legs tight; and a pair of shiny black
leather boots with six-inch stiletto heels that covered her legs up
above her knees. Again, this outfit could be done in several color
combinations, but black/red was my favorite.

sometimes I just let her legs go bare. I always included high heels.
(By this time, she had become so attached to high heels that she would
probably be a nervous wreck without them. Aside from that, the
tendons on the backs of her ankles had contracted from never being
stressed, and it would have been extremely painful for her to stand,
let alone walk, flat-footed.)

we went out, I would tell her how to wear it. When we were going
someplace “elegant,” it would either be pinned up against her head in
typical ballroom style, or conditioned into soft, gentle waves that
cascaded over her shoulders. When she was dressing slutty, though, I
had her use one of a large variety of styles — sometimes straight
down her back, sometimes in curls or crimped, almost always teased out
to maximum volume.

necklaces, chokers, and anklets was available. These were used
tastefully with the elegant outfits (a simple gold or pearl necklace
and a bracelet or two on one wrist), and liberally with the slutty
ones (an overlong faux-pearl necklace dangling down to her navel, and
at least two or three gaudy bracelets on each arm).

threw out all of the clothes she had had before I met her. None of
them were really useful for her new role. I was surprised, though, to
find some rather flashy lingerie in her underwear drawer. Although I
had told her that she was never to wear underwear again, I decided to
hang on to the lingerie. It might come in handy sometime.

but I tended to prefer doing things that would let her be seen in
public as much as possible. To that end, we often walked around in
malls and parks, took shopping trips into downtown, and went to bars
and nightclubs to hang out. I would parade around in public with this
gorgeous, sluttily-dressed woman on my arm, the envy of every man in
sight.

a park. Suzanne was fully decked out in halter-top, ass-revealing red
leather skirt, and knee-high black leather “fuck me” boots. We had
been walking around the park for about an hour. Every once in awhile
I would dart my hand up under her skirt and give her clit a few soft
strokes, and then pull back and resume walking. Over time, as I
continued this, she became more and more horny and frustrated. I was
curious to see just how much she could stand.

the path in the middle of a small stand of trees, she whirled around
in front of me and dropped to a crouching position in front of my
crotch. With a speed I hadn’t thought possible, she whipped my dick
out and wrapped her lips around it.

plunged furiously up and down. I leaned against a tree, savoring the
sweet sensations of Suzanne’s mouth around my prick. The teasing had
gotten her quite excited.

from my crotch. She immediately turned around and dropped to her
hands and knees, holding her ass high, presenting her dripping pussy
to me. “Give it to me, Alan, give it to me!” she begged. I slammed
my meat hard into her fuck-tunnel.

thick, hard shaft in and out of her tight, silky cunt. Suzanne bucked
hungrily against me, moaning in pleasure each time I thrust into her.
She was oblivious to the fact that we were in a public place,
oblivious to everything except the cock filling her up, giving her so
much pleasure.

watching interestedly as I screwed Suzanne. The women were scornful,
the men envious. But nobody could leave.

cock and turned around to face me. Without a word, she grasped my
cock in her hands and jacked it furiously at her face. I exploded in
orgasm, and massive streams of ropy come shot from my prick to splash
across Suzanne’s face and chest. She eagerly sucked down what she
could, and used her fingers to gather up the rest and put it in her
mouth. Her eyes closed and her body shook as she orgasmed from the
taste of my jism, collapsing to the ground in ecstasy.

slut taking her man’s spunk on her face and gobbling it down. I paid
them no attention as my orgasm wound down, my last few spurts of come
landing on Suzanne’s sleek legs. She lay on the ground, shaking as
her orgasm rumbled through her body. I stood over her, exhausted,
slowly replacing my cock in my pants and zipping up my fly.

quickly and looked around, realizing for the first time the crowd that
had gathered. Her embarrassment caused her to recover from the
aphrodisiac quickly. She stood up, blushing in humiliation, and
quickly smoothed her skirt down to cover her soaked pussy. Her face
and tits were still shiny with my come. A thin strand of pussy juice
dripped from the opening in her skirt down to the ground. Walking
slowly, taking my time, I led her away from the crowd, back to the
car. “What a slut,” somebody exclaimed behind us. Suzanne gripped my
arm tighter, her cheeks burning in humiliation.

constant throughout this whole period — a sort of resigned
indifference. She didn’t enjoy looking and acting like a slut, but if
that’s what I wanted, she was willing to do it to keep the sex coming.
She was remarkably cooperative, always doing things immediately and
correctly the first time. I never had to raise my voice to her. She
had come to believe that the situation between us was stable. I got
to do almost whatever I wanted with her body, including occasionally
humiliating her in public, and if she acted cheerful about it, she got
to experience mind-blowing orgasms. She seemed content to live the
rest of her life that way.

Chapter 4

Spreading the wealth

my own private whore ready for me at a moment’s notice, I decided it
was time to break out of the rut and start the next phase of Suzanne’s
training. I was counting on this next stage of Suzanne’s education to
push her over the edge, forcing her to rebel so that I could exert
full control over her. Two months to the day after I’d first fucked
her without drugs, I took her back to the Japanese restaurant we’d
eaten at that night.

I’d remembered it. I made pleasant small talk, and Suzanne pretended
to enjoy it. After dinner, I sent the waiter away, and stood up.

walked over to me, ready to be fucked. Placing my hands on her firm
ass, I picked her up and set her on the edge of the table. She leaned
back and hitched her skirt up, preparing for my entry into her juicy
pussy.

that I could enter easily. Pulling my hard cock out of my pants, I
placed it at the entrance to her cunt, teasing her. She started to
moan as she got hot, begging me to fuck her.

unhooked a small pager, pretending to look at the display. Suzanne
had opened her eyes and was arched around looking at me questioningly.
“Alannnn… do it…”

or they wouldn’t have paged me at dinnertime. I’d better go answer
it.” I zipped up my fly.

table.

you what: you stay there just like that. I’ll go make a phone call
and then I’ll come right back and take care of you. Don’t touch
yourself, and don’t move from that spot. You stay in exactly that
position, okay?”

into the hall. Leaving the door slightly ajar, I strode off down the
hall.

creeping back up the hall to peek through the crack between the door
and the frame. My hot little tramp was lying exactly where I’d left
her, breathing heavily, occasionally letting out a soft moan. Her
legs were far apart, and her snatch was wide open, begging to be
fucked from behind. Perfect.

waiter, who’d earlier informed us that his name was Rick, was hitting
on the cute hostess. Rick was a fairly well-built guy of average
height with trim blond hair. By his age, I guessed he was a college
student. “Rick,” I called.

you?” he asked attentively.

with an important job?”

course, sir! What can I do for you?” he said, repeating his earlier
question.

complicated. You’ve had your share of girlfriends, I’m sure, haven’t
you, Rick?”

pretending to be a bit uncomfortable.

the first time.

wanted… uh… wanted something unusual?”

rubbed. I mean, everybody likes a good foot rub, but, you know, some
women _really_ enjoy it?”

suppose I’ve run into that sort of thing once or twice.”

wife, whom you no doubt remember…”

saying so.”

even further “… strangers.”

okay, yes, I understand.”

arrange a little surprise. Could you… uh… help me out, if you
catch my drift.”

My wife, she really likes a surprise, see? So right now she’s lying
on the table in our dining room, all… uh… ready. See, I pretended
to have a beeper emergency just as we were about to… uh… do what
you’re going to do with her. And she promised me she’d be waiting in
that exact position when I got back. She won’t be able to see you,
the way she’s lying. So what you have to do is sneak in there real
quiet-like and just… do it. Remember, she likes a surprise, so
don’t make any noise until you’re… doing it. And don’t say
anything, no matter what. Just keep on going. When you’re done, just
leave, and then go make yourself scarce. It’ll be… more
romantic… if she doesn’t see you again. Got all that?”

meal, and a little… compensation for your trouble,” I said, stuffing
two hundred-dollar bills in his shirt pocket.

watch through the crack in the door to make sure nothing goes wrong.
Remember, be absolutely quiet until you start going.”

hall toward our room. I waited ten seconds before following. When I
got to the door, I peered through the crack. Suzanne was lying in the
same position I’d left her in, legs spread far apart, cunt invitingly
exposed.

Slowly, and with the utmost care, he pushed down his pants, being
careful not to make any noise. Suzanne was moaning so loudly, though,
that I doubt she’d have heard anything softer than a voice.

ass facing up at him. It occurred to me that Rick might be an ass
man. God, I hoped not. I didn’t need to deal with that just yet.

breath, put his hands on her legs, and plunged his cock into Suzanne’s
pussy. She squealed in delight at his entry and gave a long groan of
pleasure.

from the muscles of Suzanne’s cunt. She was always quick to start
milking once a cock was in her. After a few seconds, Suzanne got
impatient and started thrusting at Rick, begging to have her pussy
pumped. Rick snapped out of it and began to thrust in a slow rhythm.
Suzanne matched his thrusts and pushed against him. Gradually, Rick
picked up the pace, slamming his dick into her with more and more
force.

two inches shorter. Suzanne had assumed he was me during the slow,
shallow strokes at the beginning, but when they started really going
at it, she suddenly opened her eyes. I guess she realized that when
his balls slapped her ass, the deepest part of her cunt was still
unfilled. Still thrusting at his cock, still moaning in pleasure with
every movement, Suzanne arched her head and shoulders around to look
behind her.

behind her instead of me. Rick took no notice, and continued to pound
his cock into her cunt. She actually froze for a moment, completely
stunned. After a second or two, though, her body took over and began
to thrust back at Rick again as she neared orgasm. Though her
conscious mind was probably alarmed at being fucked by a stranger, her
body’s trained reactions were in control.

Suzanne’s eyes closed and her body shook in a powerful orgasm, the
strongest she’d had in a long time. Rick’s sperm overflowed from her
cunt as she collapsed to the table, moaning in pleasure. I’d slipped
a half-dose of aphrodisiac (the first she’d had in months) into her
after-dinner drink to ensure that she would remember this episode as
being particularly pleasurable. Rick collapsed on top of her.

shoulder and stood up. I walked back down the hall to the lobby and
waited for him to emerge.

but basically all right. I congratulated him and gave him an extra
hundred for doing such a fine job. The hostess watched us, confused.
I sent Rick on his way, and told him to stay out of sight for at least
ten minutes. Then I headed back down the hall to our room and walked
nonchalantly through the door.

all right?” I feigned alarm.

still-open pussy.

muttered. “Thought… it was you…”

possibility for the first time. She shrugged. “Guess so.” She was
so dazed that she didn’t seem to know whether that was good or bad.

honey.” I helped her to her feet and straightened out her clothes.
She allowed herself to be led back to the lobby and out of the
restaurant. The hostess saw Suzanne’s disheveled state, put two and
two together, and gave me a look of shock and disgust. “You are a
sick person,” she informed me self-righteously.

one of your waiters raped my wife,” I retorted. I hurried out the
door before she could respond.

day. I wanted the episode to sink in. Not only had she been on the
aphrodisiac, in order to ensure a powerful orgasm, she’d also been on
neural enhancer, in order to imprint the pleasure she experienced from
the cock of a stranger. It was time to resume her training.

case with our first visit, we arrived half an hour early. So once
again, we each had a glass of champagne while we were waiting. And,
of course, hers contained the two drugs.

her briskly out of the theater and into the lobby. Ushering her
through the door into the reception room we’d fucked in the last time,
I told her to wait there for me. By this time, of course, my trained
sex-toy was already hot and desperate to be used.

the storeroom where the caterers had set up the kitchen. It was empty
at the moment, except for the teenager who’d walked in on us last
time. I smiled. This was most fortunate.

he said, his voice cracking. Ah, puberty.

through that door,” I paused and pointed to the door leading to the
reception hall, “in exactly five minutes. Than do exactly what I tell
you.” I turned and walked away before he could respond.

main doors. Suzanne, apparently getting pretty hot by this time,
greeted me with a smothering kiss, grinding her pelvis against me.
She hadn’t been fucked since the night before in the restaurant, and I
think it was really bothering her. A woman has needs, and by this
time, Suzanne had the needs of ten women.

lay down on her back and pulled up the dress she’d been wearing. I
spread her lags apart and tickled her moist pussy. She squirmed and
began to moan. I wanted to make sure she really enjoyed this.

head gently between her cunt lips, I put the slightest amount of
pressure on her pussy. She moaned and pleaded with me. “Oh, Alan,
pleeeeease… I need it…”

Suzanne’s cunt muscles began to squeeze and caress it, trying to milk
all the come they could out of my prick. After a minute, I pulled
out.

on the table and dropped to my hands and knees. Positioning my body
at right angles to Suzanne’s, I placed my crotch directly over her
face.

suck. The cock in her mouth made her forget about her empty cunt.
She swirled her tongue excitedly around the tip of my dick. At that
moment, the service door opened and Larry walked in.

shock. That lasted for a few seconds before gradually being replaced
by lust. Lust gave way to recognition as he looked at my face again.

He shook out of his stupor and tiptoed over to stand near me. Suzanne
was completely oblivious to his presence. Her eyes were closed and
she was concentrating on my cock in her mouth.

He looked uncertain. I gave him a look of exasperation, pointed at
his crotch, and then pointed at Suzanne’s cunt. He walked over to
stand in front of Suzanne’s glistening, ready pussy. Still uncertain,
he looked at me again, and pointed at Suzanne’s cunt with a
questioning look on his face. I gave him a big nod. He’s have to do
it soon, or else Suzanne would’ve already orgasmed from my cock.

He placed it in front of Suzanne’s cunt and hesitated, looking up at
me again. I silently mouthed the words “Fuck her!” at him. He looked
down at her cunt again, gulped, and sank his cock deep into her.

her head, but I had positioned myself so that my cock pinned her to
the ground. My body prevented her from seeing Larry, who was
similarly frozen, a look of awe on his face. I gestured at him,
trying to tell him to start pumping. Slowly, he got the idea, and
began to take long slow strokes in and out of Suzanne’s pussy.

my dick. Soon she was back in the swing of things, swirling her
tongue around my cockhead, while her hips thrust against Larry’s
strokes. Larry and Suzanne began to move faster as she approached
orgasm. She sucked harder and harder on my dick, moving her head up
and down as far as she could without banging it on the table.

Suzanne’s throat at the same time. Seconds later, she orgasmed,
squirming beneath us on the table. When she had come down, I motioned
to Larry to leave. He withdrew his cock from her cunt, zipped up his
pants, and hurried out. I lifted myself off of Suzanne’s face and got
to my feet. Suzanne was in the same daze she’d been in after Rick
fucked her. I helped her to her feet, and straightened out her
clothes.

down to the garage and to my car. I knew we would need to be
someplace private when Suzanne came out of her slut mode and got
angry.

door behind us, she whirled to face me. “You had absolutely no right
to do what you did tonight!” she declared angrily. It was the first
time she’d ever taken that tone with me.

relationship between us. “Do what?” I asked innocently.

inside. “I’m afraid I don’t, honey. What’s the matter?”

let him do it. And you sent that waiter in last night, too, didn’t
you?” She pointed a finger at me accusingly.

“I thought you’d enjoy it.”

little. “You enjoyed getting fucked by those guys. And I bet you’d
enjoy getting fucked by other guys. What’s the matter with a man
trying to make the woman he loves happy?” It was the first time I’d
used the “F-word” with her, and she was shocked.

fucked as much as possible. The slightest touch gets you horny, and
when you aren’t getting your pussy reamed by my cock, you’re either
rubbing your tits against it, or sucking on it. And the mere touch of
my semen…”

back to the bedroom, picked up my suitcase, and walked back out to the
front door. “Here’s my address,” I said, placing a card on the phone
table. “Come by anytime you change your mind.”

on my face.

hours. But the next evening, she hadn’t come, and I started to worry.
There was nothing I could do. Calling her would only weaken my
position. I had to stand firm. It wasn’t until the second evening
after the argument, when the rain was pouring down outside, that I
heard a knock at my door.

matching hat. It was kind of cute. I noticed red heels peeking out
under the bottom of the poncho. “Hi,” she said softly.

with you. I… I realize now that you were j-just trying to make me
feel good. S-so let’s just forget it happened, okay?” She looked at
me pleadingly. “I miss you.”

Suzanne. But I can’t go back to your place anymore. However, if you
agree to follow my rules, you can move in here with me.”

stammered.

from now on, without hesitation, no matter what I ask you to do.
Anything I want.”

back to the way it was? You liked it that way, didn’t you? Look,
I’ll even do it with other men, if it makes you happy. I… I admit I
enjoyed it. I w-want to do it again. Please, Alan?”

Suzanne, the quiet, reserved Montana girl, promising to fuck other men
if only I’d take her back. “You really are the little slut, aren’t
you?” She looked away as if she’d been slapped, her cheeks burning in
humiliation. “No, Suzanne, we can’t go back to that,” I continued.
“You had your chance with that, and you blew it. This is the only way
now. You can either agree to my terms, agree to do whatever I ask,
eagerly and without hesitation, or you can walk out that door and
never see me again.”

inaudibly, “All right. I promise.”

without question?”

everything after me. From now on, you are going to be my slave.”

don’t like it, I’ll still let you leave if you want, and never see me
again.”

her gaze with a stern look. She realized I was serious and the
incredulity on her face gave way to fear. “Y-you can’t mean that,
Alan,” she stammered.

forget we ever knew each other,” I said, reaching to open the door.

for several tense moments . At last, Suzanne took a deep, shuddering
breath. “I… I’ll do it. I’ll be your s-s-s…” She spat the last
word out. “… slave.”

I just told you.”

for their pleasure.”

is… to be used by men for their p-pleasure.”

chose.”

wherever, and by whomever you choose.”

Suzi, or slave, or slut, or bitch, or anything else.”

whenever we are alone, you will address me as ‘master’. Do you
understand?”

what it is that she wants. What does Suzi need me to do?”

‘hard’.”

‘penis’. A slut uses a different word.”

it to the floor. I was amazed to discover that she was wearing her
“candy” outfit. She must’ve been pretty horny when she got dressed
this morning.

my fly and pulled out my hard shaft. She was about to put it in her
mouth when I stopped her. “Tell me what you want to do.”

master.” I looked at her, waiting for more. “Please let Suzi suck
your big cock.” She looked at me pleadingly.

on my meat, slurping at it like she hadn’t had it days. Which I guess
she hadn’t. I was swiftly aroused by her skillful blowjob. Her
dextrous tongue tickled my shaft as her head bobbed up and down.

her mouth. She looked up at me.

by now. She was desperate for me to come in her, so she spoke quickly
and eagerly. “Suzi wants you to come in her mouth, master. Please
let Suzi swallow your hot come.”

come.” She put my cock back into her mouth just as I started to come,
sending hot, sticky wads of jism down her throat. Suzi orgasmed as I
finished, her whole body shaking with pleasure as she eagerly sucked
down every last drop of come.

m-mouth.” A dribble of jism ran out of Suzi’s mouth and down her chin
as she spoke.

to the couch and lay down on it, her glistening wet pussy exposed. I
sat down in a chair next to her, gazing at the soft folds of her cunt.
She needed it. I wasn’t ready, though. “What do you want, now,
slave?”

cock.”

I had a suspicion I wanted to investigate. “When was the last time
you had your cunt fucked, whore?”

this, but also excited.

other men. “Tell me about it, slave.”

went to a bar wearing a leather s-skirt and h-heels.”

makes men want to f-fuck Suzi”

names.”

the couch, thrusting her hips at an imaginary cock.

who always needs to be fucked. Suzi needs a hot cock inside her.
Suzi is a bitch who needs to taste hot, sticky come. P-please fuck
Suzi’s hot pussy, master!”

Suzi off the couch and thrust her to the floor. She immediately got
on her hands and knees, presenting her dripping pussy to me. I
roughly grabbed her hips as I slammed my cock into her silky cunt.

your slut with your hard cock! Ohhh… master’s cock feels so good in
Suzi’s cunt! Nnnngh! Fuck Suuuuziiii!” I reached under Suzi and
grabbed her tits, using them as leverage to thrust my dick into her as
hard as possible. She writhed in pleasure on my cock, slamming her
hips against me as forcefully as she could.

cock. “Yes! Yes! Shoot your come into Suzi’s hot cunt!” she yelled.
“Fill your slut’s wet pussy with your jism! Yes!” Suzi’s cunt
muscles clenched tightly at my dick as my creamy load shot into her
belly, milking it dry. I collapsed on top of her, exhausted, my
still-hard cock filling Suzi’s pussy.

her cunt and pulled myself up to sit on the couch. “Clean my cock,
slave,” I commanded.

to me on the couch and began licking my soft shaft, gathering up the
come and pussy juice covering it and slurping them down eagerly. Ropy
strings of come dripped from her wet pussy onto the leather of the
couch.

her three more times that night. Each time, I got her hot, then made
her beg for my cock. “Please, master, fill Suzi’s hot, wet cunt with
your big thick cock,” she would ask, and I would oblige by reaming my
slut’s cunt. “Please, master, fill Suzi’s slutty cunt with your
sticky come,” she would beg, and I would have no choice but to shoot
my jism into her hungry pussy. But at the end, she asked me to “fuck
Suzi’s tits and shoot your come all over your bitch’s hot, slutty
face,” and I knew I had a winner.

Chapter 5

Suzi

Suzanne. I moved the clothes I had bought her to my apartment, and
put them in a closet which I designated as Suzi’s. I put the
cosmetics and jewelry into a vanity table I’d purchased just for her.
The rest of her stuff I sold to a local thrift shop for cash.

threw out the cashier’s check. It was a trivial amount of money
compared to what I had, and cashing it would just leave a trail that
Suzanne’s relatives could follow if they ever tried to track her down.
We canceled the lease on her apartment without leaving a forwarding
address.

her new daily schedule. I got ahold of some videotapes of
professional strippers performing, as well as a video camera, and set
up one of the extra rooms of my apartment as a practice studio for
Suzi. She was to teach herself to dance and striptease by watching
the tapes. The camera was for her to watch herself doing it, so she
could refine her technique.

even tan without having to leave the apartment, and a treadmill and a
few exercise machines, to keep her in shape. I set up an exercise
regimen for her, emphasizing overall conditioning, to build her
stamina. In addition, I had her do a lot of chest development
exercises, in the hope of doing something about those small tits of
hers, as well as some leg work to build up her ass.

the morning and serve me breakfast, after which I would usually fuck
her either in the mouth or the cunt (but only after she begged me to).
She would spend the rest of the morning practicing her dancing, eat a
healthy lunch, and then practice for several more hours in the
afternoon. Usually I would interrupt this at some point to fuck her,
again making her beg before entering her. After she’d put in her
eight hours of dance practice, she’d spend an hour in the tanning bed,
followed by an hour of physical workout. Then she’d fix and serve me
dinner.

but not nearly as often as I had with Suzanne. Most evenings, we
would stay home and she would watch porno films, studying the way the
women in them behaved. We went to bed early, so that I could give her
one or two training fucks and still let her get plenty of sleep.
Throughout the day, she was expected to keep herself looking sexy and
ready to be fucked, like a good little slut. Once Suzi had settled
into her routine, I started up the training again.

the bed. As per my instructions of half an hour ago, she was wearing
a tight black halter top cut so low that it almost exposed her
nipples, a shiny red leather miniskirt, and a pair of knee-covering
black leather “fuck me” boots, with her standard five-inch heels. The
top was pushed down to expose her pert breasts, and the skirt was
pushed up to her waist, exposing her damp pussy. Excellent.

rising to her hands and knees, her pert ass sticking up into the air.
Here eyes were closed in expectation, anticipating the warm cock that
her excited pussy needed so badly. Suzi’s training was coming along
well, and she was rapidly developing the proper attitude toward sex.
That is to say, she was learning that her body was a toy for me to use
for my pleasure, and that the only way she would ever experience
pleasure herself was by being used in this way, as an object for sex.

emotional makeup intact, fighting inside her against what she was
becoming. This remnant of Suzanne was still in control of Suzi’s body
whenever she wasn’t aroused, which was still a majority of the time.
And while Suzi was almost always happy, content in her role as a slut
and a whore, Suzanne was depressed and miserable. She never rebelled
or disobeyed me, but it was obvious from her manner that she was
unhappy. She went about her chores, her dance practice, and her
exercises with a dogged determination, in fear of what might happen
should she fail rather than out of a true love of what she was doing.

the battle between the two. When it came time for me to make use of
my slut, the weary, depressed Suzanne was all to eager to give way to
the bright, energetic, cock-craving Suzi. And every time Suzi was
brought forth, she grew stronger and Suzanne grew weaker. Even though
Suzanne doubtless knew that by surrendering control to the slut she
was dooming herself, she was still more than happy to give it up when
the time came, out of sheer misery. It was form a suicide. Suzanne
knew that, and she didn’t mind.

when I would come in to give her her lessons for the day. She knew
that soon she would be a come-hungry nymphomaniac, experiencing pure
pleasure as she sucked on a cock, or had her pussy reamed fast and
hard. Tonight, however, she was in for a surprise.

vaseline out of my pocket. She couldn’t see me from her position. I
spread a liberal amount of vaseline on the fingers of my right hand.
With my left hand, I gently began to rub Suzi’s pink little clit. She
moaned in response, thrusting her hips back at me, trying to fuck my
fingers, trying to get anything she could into her cunt. Carefully, I
brought my right hand down to her ass, slowly rubbing her anus.

location, jerking her body as she craned her head and shoulders around
to look at me. I slapped her ass. “Sit still, slut! Just relax, and
this won’t hurt.”

though, scared at the prospect of something unfamiliar. Slowly,
carefully, I slipped a vaseline-covered finger into her rectum.

Suzi,” I told her. “Good little slut. Just relax…” I continued to
maneuver my finger around inside her, trying to spread the lotion as
much as possible. When I had done as good a job as I would ever be
able to, I pulled my finger out and wiped off the excess lotion.

won’t hurt if you just relax…” I began rubbing her clit again,
eliciting moans once more. But her cries carried a tinge of fear in
them. I rubbed her harder, trying to bring her off more strongly,
trying to get her to relax. I placed the head of my stiff cock at the
entrance to her rectum. Removing my hand from her clit, I spread her
ass cheeks as far apart as I could, opening her up as much as possible
for my entry. Suzi was trembling in fear now, having figured out what
was going on. I reached a hand forward and pushed her chest and
shoulders down into the bed, giving me the best possible entry angle.
As gently as I could, I pushed the head of my cock into her ass.

clit, trying to bring her off and calm her down. It was slow going,
but eventually she stopped screaming and settled into a soft
whimpering. Her ass was incredibly tight around my cockhead. God, it
felt great! Slowly, I pushed another inch into her lubricated
asshole.

down. I continued to finger her, trying to bring her up the road to
orgasm. I whispered gently to her. “A good little slut knows how to
take a cock up her ass.” Suzi mewled in pleasure and pain.

thrust to calm her down and bring back to some amount of pleasure.
This was easier than it would normally have been, thanks to the
aphrodisiac, but it was still slow going. The walls of her ass
squeezed around me with an intense pressure.

slowly, began to fuck her ass, continually rubbing her clit. I kept
it slow to minimize the pain, but she was still squealing in fear
almost constantly. After I’d been inside her for nearly half an
hour, I brought her to orgasm as I shot my sperm into her ass. As
usual, she was under the Pavlov drug, and so she was learning, slowly,
to enjoy having her ass fucked.

out of her ass and lay down beside her. She was softly crying.
“Listen to me,” I told her. Here eyes opened and she looked fearfully
at me. I continued. “That hurt, but in time you’ll grow used to it.”
I held out the bottle of vaseline to her. “It would have hurt a lot
more without this. From now on, you will keep yourself lubricated
with this at all times. If I ever check, and find you dry, I’ll do it
to your right there, and it will hurt. Understand?”

smiled. “You’re becoming a fine little slut, Suzi.”

teaching Suzi to take a cock up her ass because it would be useful
skill in her new line of work, not because it was something I had a
particular thing for.

technique. Always, I fingered her clit as I fucked her ass, using the
Pavlov drug to cause a pleasure association to form in her brain,
teaching her to orgasm at the feel of come in her ass. The bitch was
so tight down there I found myself enjoying the action despite my
general lack of interest in this sort of thing.

caller was a middle-aged businessman calling from a hotel, responding
to an ad for “Adult Services” I had placed in the local paper. We
verbally, danced around for a few minutes, ascertaining each other’s
bona fides. When we finally got down to it, I told him Suzi was
available for a massage at $200 for a full hour, plus tips. He agreed,
told me where he was staying, and I promised Suzi would be there in an
hour.

customer was interested in someone trashy, so I had Suzi put on one of
her slutty outfits, a new one I’d purchased recently. It consisted of
a shiny silver slip dress that left the gap in her cleavage
well-exposed and just barely covered her ass, a pair of black fishnet
stockings, and two shiny elbow-length gloves. It was fully
accessorized with several oversized fake pearl necklaces, a gaudy
bracelet on one wrist, a pair of black hoop earrings, and of course
the ever-present five-inch spiked heels, in black this time.

to the hotel. While we drove, I briefed her on the proper way to act,
how to defer to the customer’s wishes, and when to ask for money. I
fixed a small microphone to her left earring, so that I’d be able to
listen in on the action and intervene in case Suzi came into any
danger.

trenchcoat, we walked through the lobby to the elevators. Suzi drew
a number of lustful stares, despite the thick coat hiding her body.
We rode the elevator up to the customer’s floor. I waited around a
corner in the hallway while Suzi knocked on the door.

be Suzi.”

in front of it, ready to enter at a moment’s notice.

customer for Suzi to be talking about herself in the third person.
Well, shit. It was too late now. I’d have to let things go and just
hope it didn’t bother him.

They sat down and talked. He tried to start a conversation, asking
her questions about herself, where she was from. Suzi’s responses
were simple and direct.

needs to be fucked.”

little tramp, aren’t you?”

cock.”

tremor in his voice. “T-try mine.” I heard the sound of a zipper.

to suck it. Can Suzi suck your cock? Please?”

was getting so horny from listening to this. I listened intently as
Suzi’s customer built to orgasm. He was really getting into this.
“Take it down your throat, you little slut! Yes!” I could only
imagine what was going on.

orgasmed, they settled down for a bit, doing some necking and
fondling. Soon, she started begging him to fuck her. He had
absolutely no objections, and did so. Suzi kept up a monologue all
through the process.

Suzi hasn’t had a cock in her cunt all day, and this big thick one
feels so good. Yes! Use Suzi like the whore she is! Fuck her slutty
pussy with your wet cock until you shoot your jism into her belly.”
The volume of her cries increased as his orgasm built. “Yes, yes! Ram
your meat into Suzi’s wet pussy! Oh! Yes, yes, YES! Shoot your
sticky white come deep into Suzi’s cunt! Yes! YES! FUCK
SUZIIIIIIIIIIII!”

moans of orgasm. Slowly, they came down. “That was incredible. You
are one hot little slut.”

walked out the door. I greeted her with a big smile and a raging
hard-on. Gripping her hand, I led her to the stairwell.

hotel used the elevators. I closed the door behind us and unzipped my
pants, freeing my erect cock. Suzi, still aroused from her recent
fucking, needed no prompting. She bent over and grabbed the stair
railing, thrusting her pert little ass up in the air. Not bothering
with any formalities, I lifted her skirt up and slammed my meat into
her moist pussy.

minutes. I was incredibly horny from listening to her fuck that guy
in the hotel room, and my cock was desperate for release. I placed my
hands on her hips and jerked them violently toward me with every
stroke I took. Suzi put very little effort into it; she was content
merely to be used like a rag doll, muttering softly to herself. “Oh,
yessss, master, fuck Suzi. Fuck Suzi’s slutty cunt with your hard
cock. Mmmmm.”

shaft, I came explosively, jism spurting from my prick into her tight
cunt. Suzi screamed in pleasure as her third orgasm in an hour washed
over her, and my come dribbled out of the corners of her pussy. God,
she was fantastic.

her ass. She didn’t enjoy it, but as the days passed, she slowly grew
used to it and stopped crying whenever I fucked her there.

just taken her shower, and was sitting at the vanity table, styling
her hair and putting on her makeup. Usually I didn’t wake up until
almost an hour later, after she’d gotten dressed and fixed breakfast.

looked up at me, curious as to why I was up so early. “Stand up,
slut.” I commanded. She obeyed, setting down her lipstick and
standing at attention.

anticipation. Without warning, I stuck a finger into her anus,
eliciting a shriek from her. It was dry.

have in it all times?”

g-get up this early, and…”

and threw her to the floor. She looked up at me in horror, too
frightened to take action, as I knelt above her.

She was crying in sheer terror. With one hand I positioned my cock at
the entrance to her dry anus, and with the other I pushed her head and
shoulders down to the floor, giving me the best possible angle of
entry. When she was positioned just right, I slammed my cock full
force into her tight, dry ass.

when I fucked her to orgasm. Not the scream of fear mixed with
pleasure that she had given when I was teaching her to ass-fuck. A
scream of pure, excruciating, mind-numbering pain.

her asshole. Just when her scream started dying, I withdrew and
thrust again, bringing a new wail. The raw, dry skin of her asshole
ripped and tore in places, and blood spurted from the cuts and gashes.

spread around and acted as a lubricant, lessening the friction between
my cock and her ass. At this point, I started fucking her in earnest.
Her screams had descended into sobs and whimpers of pain as I plowed
her ass faster and faster. Rather than her normal eager bucking and
pumping, she just lay there, accepting but not welcoming my cock in her
ass.

was in control now, and it was taking the brunt of the pain. Suzi,
the slutty personality, was in the background. I had been careful not
to arouse her before raping her ass, in order to be sure that it was
Suzanne I was inflicting pain on. The damage done to Suzanne would
further sap her will to live, effectively giving Suzi a greater amount
of control over her body.

cock. Suzi – Suzanne, really – just lay there, unresponding, still
crying from the pain. When I had shot my load, I removed my
blood-and-come covered dick from her ass.

“Always… keep… Suzi’s ass lubricated?” she asked haltingly.

immediately upon coming out of the shower in the morning.
Understand?”

suck on it. A pinkish mixture of fluids dripped from her asshole. My
cock was soon clean, glistening with her saliva. Before long, Suzanne
had receded into the background, and an aroused Suzi was sucking
happily on my cock. I patted her on the head. “Good girl, Suzi,” I
encouraged her. She smiled around my cock at me. My eager little
slut was back, stronger than ever.

grew to enjoy it, and by the end of her third week as my live-in slut,
I had her begging to “please stick your hot cock up your bitch’s tight
ass, master!” I’m not particularly an ass-fucking type of guy, as
I’ve mentioned, but hearing her say that made me eager to cream her
tight little hole.

a week. She typically earned four or five hundred dollars from each
stint. This was no big windfall, but it was a nice bit of extra
income. I didn’t intend for her to be doing this for very long
anyway; the real purpose of it was to get her used to the idea of
fucking other men. She would soon be moving on to far more lucrative
activities.

that Suzi’s dancing skills had reached the point where they could be
put to use. I made up a bunch of flyers featuring Suzi’s face as she
licked her lips sluttily. The text read, “The breathtakingly beautiful
Suzi: private dancer available for parties and celebrations. Deluxe
service.”

bachelor party. They were in a rush, and they wanted her that night.
I was forced to cancel my dinner reservations, but I was eager to see
Suzi in action, so I agreed. We dickered over the price, and he gave
me directions and a time to show up.

that evening. She was surprised. I told her to go put on her red
lingerie and pumps. She complied and returned to the practice room.
We spent the rest of the afternoon going over her routine. She was to
burst out of a cake and do a quick striptease act. Then she was to
sit on the groom’s lap and get down and dirty.

stripper who isn’t supposed to go very far. He doesn’t know that
you’re really a cock-craving whore who’s going to fuck him. So you
have to go slow, or you’ll scare him.”

playing the part of the groom. I didn’t actually fuck her, because I
wanted her to be extra horny that night. But it was quite an act of
will to restrain myself.

driving her out to the party. Before going up to the house, I had her
drink a glass of water with a little bit of aphrodisiac and some of
the Pavlov drug. “Now, remember, slut, the groom gets to fuck you
first, because it’s his special night. After that, you have to allow
yourself to be fucked by anyone who wants to.”

beer. I introduced myself as Suzi’s manager. He told me he was the
older brother of Jeff, the groom, and showed us to the cake. Suzi
climbed inside, visibly nervous. I said some reassuring words before
closing the cake. By the time she had to perform, she’d be horny from
the drugs, and that would take care of her nerves.

him I’d wait out in the kitchen until the cake was brought out, and
then I’d watch discreetly from the kitchen door. He shrugged and left
me in the kitchen.

the frame of the kitchen door. The guys sat Jeff down on a chair
facing the cake. The music started, and Suzi burst from the cake.

Sweeping around the room, she teased all the guys, licking her lips
and occasionally grinding against their crotches, leaving them with
various pieces of her flimsy outfit. After a few minutes, she danced
over to Jeff and sat on his lap, straddling his legs and facing him,
wearing only a bra, panties, and heels.

eyes while the other men whooped and laughed. She waved her tits in
front of his face. Judging by the bulge in his pants, Jeff was
enjoying the show. Slowly, sexily, Suzi untied her bra and slipped it
off her shoulders, revealing her hard nipples. She waved them
teasingly in front of Jeff’s face, rubbing them gently with her
fingers as she stared lustfully into his eyes. This drew more whoops
from the other men in the room.

voice.

exclaimed, running a hand along his crotch. She looked away and
winked playfully at the men, who laughed and cheered her on.

Swaying her torso the the music, she untied the panties, exposing her
wet cunt. Jeff stared in amazement. The panties still lay between
her legs. Suzi bunched the front of her panties up in her left hand,
and the back in her right hand, and began to draw them slowly back and
forth along her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back,
thrusting her chest into Jeff’s face, drawing even more cheers from
the audience. Jeff was still staring at her pussy.

brought them to her mouth. She fixed Jeff with a sultry gaze as she
parted her lips and sucked some of the juice out of the panties. She
then moved the panties in front of Jeff’s mouth and licked her lips.
Jeff sucked hungrily on them. “Does it taste good, Jeff?” Suzi
breathed.

ma’am!”

plastered her lips against Jeff’s, giving him a hard, passionate kiss.
Jeff was startled at first, but responded quickly. Suzi rubbed the
back of his neck with one hand and his chest with the other as she
kissed him. After an eternity, she pulled away and looked at Jeff.

chest down to his crotch, softly rubbing the bulge she found there,
“you’re going to make Donna a pretty happy woman.” This drew another
loud chorus of hoots from the partiers. Suzi took no notice, her
attention focused on Jeff. “But before you go and do that, Jeff,” she
breathed, leaning closer and closer to him, “how about making Suzi
happy?” With that, she kissed him again and began to unzip his pants.

kissing him, she began to stroke his hard cock with her fingers,
skillfully bringing him off. Suzi broke the kiss, and looked down
hungrily at Jeff’s cock. Jeff groaned in pleasure at her soft
strokes, his rigid cock standing upright from his lap. A drop of
juice fell from Suzi’s pussy onto Jeff’s pants. No doubt about it,
the bitch was hot and ready, aching to have her cunt filled by Jeff’s
cock.

disbelief. Jeff’s brother looked at me, as if asking what the hell
was going on. I shrugged and turned my attention back to the action.

running her fingers up and down his hard shaft. “Yes,” she murmured,
“Suzi is going to be very happy with Jeff’s hot, hard cock in her
soft, wet cunt!” With that, she lifted herself up and moved herself
forward, placing herself over Jeff’s crotch. Jeff was in an aroused
stupor, and had no reaction. Suzi placed the head of Jeff’s cock at
the opening of her pussy. With an aroused moan, she lowered herself
onto it, impaling herself on his shaft. Jeff let out a cry of
pleasure at the feel of her velvety cunt wrapped around his prick.

now took on expressions that were frankly stunned. They had been
amazed that a stripper would kiss the groom and fondle his dick. But
for her to actually fuck him — this was clearly too much for them to
handle.

was fixed on the meat filling her pussy. I could see her stomach flex
as her cunt muscles massaged Jeff’s cock. He was delirious with
pleasure. Suzi slowly began to move herself up and down on his shaft,
fucking herself crazy. Her moans grew in volume as her cunt lips slid
along his shaft.

him, he stood up from the chair. Suzi squealed in excitement as his
sudden movement caused her to slide all the way down his shaft,
completely filling her twat. Falling to his knees, Jeff lay Suzi down
on the floor in front of him, never taking his cock from her pussy.
He fell on top of her and quickly began to piston his cock in and out
of Suzi.

against him with each stroke. Wrapping her legs around him, she dug
her heels into his ass, trying to pull him as deeply as possible into
her cunt. “Oh, yes! Suzi feels so lucky to have Jeff’s hot, thick
cock in her wet pussy! Fuck Suzi hard, Jeff! Fuck her hot, wet
cunt!” Suzi pulled Jeff down on top of her, locking her lips to his
in a deep, passionate kiss.

steamy pussy. Suzi came at the same time, her cunt muscles gripping
his shaft in a viselike grip as her orgasm shook through her body.
Jeff’s come overflowed her cunt, dripping to the ground in thick,
stringy wads. Jeff’s orgasm subsided. He continued to respond to
Suzi’s kisses for a few moments, then pulled his cock out of her pussy
and fell to one side, exhausted.

come dripping from her open cunt, Suzi turned her head to look at the
men, whose jaws were wide open. In a soft, teasing voice, she
inquired, “Who’s next, gentlemen?”

other guys took a turn, usually two at once. Suzi would buck her hips
frantically against one cock while eagerly slurping at another.
Sometimes the men would come inside her. Other times, they would pull
out and Suzi would jack them off until their sticky come spurted onto
her face or tits.

recuperated enough to respond to Suzi’s provocations. She spent the
next half-hour giving him the blowjob of his life. She would suck him
a bit, pumping her head up and down on his shaft as he sat in the
chair. As he approached orgasm, she would let him out of her mouth,
gently teasing him and allowing him to cool off a bit. Then she would
suck him some more, keeping him on the edge of orgasm for thirty
minutes, but never letting him go over. By the end of this period, he
was so sensitive that she couldn’t suck him for more than four or five
seconds at a stretch. When she was through playing with him, she held
his shaft in her hand and asked him, “Now, Jeff, do you want to shoot
your hot, sticky jism into Suzi’s mouth, or into her soft pussy, or do
you want to come all over her slutty face?”

face.” With that, she plunged her mouth onto Jeff’s cock and began
sucking for all she was worth. Jeff’s moans grew louder and louder as
Suzi took faster and faster strokes. Just as he was about to come,
she let his cock out of her mouth and pointed it at her face. Jeff’s
engorged cock shot spurt after spurt of Jism onto Suzi’s face and into
her hair. With her free hand, she collected what she could on her
fingers and sucked it into her mouth, hungrily slurping it down. When
Jeff was finished shooting his monstrous load, Suzi’s body shook and
she fell to the ground, writhing in orgasm from the come splattered on
her, dripping in thick strings down her face. She stumbled back up
onto her knees and kissed Jeff’s cock. “You’re going to make Donna
very happy with that, Jeff.”

cunt or her mouth. One of them even did her ass while two others
fucked her mouth and cunt, bringing Suzi to another explosive orgasm.
She was always eager for more, and the guys were always eager to
provide. When everyone had taken their second fuck, and some had even
had thirds, she gave Jeff another long ride in her pussy. After that,
no one had the energy to go at it again. I collected the money from
Jeff’s brother and Suzi and I left. I had undercharged them by quite
a bit, considering all that Suzi had done, but I was counting on this
and the next several gigs to provide publicity. After that, Suzi
would be so popular that I’d be able to jack the price way up.

that evening, her most intense performance ever. She had been in slut
mode through the whole thing, her deeply-ingrained training making her
into a come-hungry sex kitten. Now she was coming down, and Suzanne’s
old personality was reasserting itself. I heard her softly crying to
herself.

tonight. You took on eight men two or three times each, giving them
orgasms like they’ve never had before. For the rest of their lives,
they’ll remember you as the best fuck they’ve ever had. Whenever they
fuck their wives, or their girlfriends, they’ll be thinking of Suzi
the slut.” I’d been planning to let her rest during the ride, but I
was horny as hell from watching her get fucked dozens of times at the
party, and I didn’t want to listen to this, so I decided to put her to
work. “Suck my cock, whore.”

animal, my little sex toy leaned over, unzipped my pants, and pulled
out my hard cock. After only a few second of sucking, she had gone
back into slut mode, all her worries pushed out of her mind. I
smiled.

Chapter 6

Building Suzi’s Body

birthday party. Once again, she burst from a cake and did a slow
striptease, winding up on the lap of the birthday boy, rubbing his
crotch and talking dirty. “Did you get a lot of presents for your
birthday, Eric?”

pants, “Won’t you give Suzi a big present?”

Suzi proceeded to pull his cock out, stroke it to erection, and then
fuck herself on it until creamy white come oozed from her cunt. They
regained their composure, though, when she made herself available to
them, and fucked her cunt, mouth, and ass with wild abandon. I
watched the whole three-hour party. When we got home, I fucked her
several times myself.

spread quickly by word-of-mouth. A week later, Suzi was getting jobs
every night. For the most part, the men at these parties were no
longer surprised at what she would do; they had hired her specifically
because she would do it, although her good looks didn’t hurt.

Suzi was consistently booked solid two weeks in advance. I raised the
price from $500 a night to $750 and then to $1000. Business showed no
signs of slowing. At six gigs a week (I gave her Sunday night to
rest; we didn’t get many offers for that night anyway.) Suzi was
earning me over $5000 a week. There were some expenses; the clothes
Suzi had been wearing were left at the scene of each party as a
souvenir.

use of her body at home, Suzi was orgasming an average of ten times a
day. Her drug-trained body kept up admirably, her pussy always
getting soaked for a cock and her mouth always eager to please.
Always, she talked dirty to whoever was fucking her, because she knew
that was the way to get the most come.

she wasn’t aroused, she was still Suzanne, and Suzanne was sullen and
withdrawn. She was still willing to have sex, because she knew that
sex would bring Suzi out, and allow her to escape the misery that was
her life. And she never disobeyed me, in fear of what the
consequences might be. (After all, I’d demonstrated them to her quite
dramatically when she’d failed to have her ass lubricated. She knew
the pain involved in a dry ass-fuck.) But in spite of her bitterness
and despair, Suzanne persevered, and showed no signs of getting
weaker.

personality to have died by now, sapped of its strength and its will
to live by the continued slutty behavior of Suzi. But she hadn’t.
Her will to go living in this miserable existence should have long
since died, crushed by the degradation she suffered daily. Somewhere
she was finding the strength to go on. Something was giving her hope.
What, though?

chanced upon the answer, while I was sitting in my study one Sunday
evening after an after-dinner use of Suzi. I was trying to figure out
exactly how much profit I’d made on her so far, which basically
involved totalling up the expenses from all of our dates, including
the drugs and clothes, and subtracting that number from the total
income I’d made from the parties. The problem was that little
expenses that I’d forgotten about popped into my mind from time to
time, and I’d have to redo the whole calculation, figuring them in.
Like that telescope I’d had to buy to spy on her at the very
beginning. Things like that.

meeting her. Scouting reports, as I thought of them, ascertaining how
much exposure she’d gotten, and who I’d have to bribe to keep her from
getting hired. Utterly useless now that she was mine, but they were
still an expense. I glanced up to where the catalogs were collecting
dust on the bookshelf…

one of them was missing. I couldn’t tell which one, but I knew one of
them was gone.

The sounds of a porn video were coming from Suzi’s training room, so I
knew she was in there studying. Quietly I walked down the hall to the
bedroom and began to search Suzi’s things.

anything permanently. I wasn’t sure yet whether I wanted her to know
I was onto her, so I tried as best I could to leave things as I found
them. An hour and a half later, after combing her closet and most of
her makeup table, I finally found what I was looking for.

drawers in the makeup cabinet was a catalog from a local department
store from over a year ago. I picked it up and opened it. It fell
open by itself to a page in the middle, clearly having been opened to
this page many times before.

kitchen. Sitting at the table was a handsome man in business clothes,
wearing a tie and slacks. Two children, a boy and a girl, were
running out the front door, lunchboxes in hand, waving to their
mother, a strikingly beautiful woman in stylish business clothes that
made her look competent and self-assured, yet very sexy. It was
Suzanne.

bought the catalog because of some swimsuit modeling she’d done in
another section, and never given a second look at this picture. What
did this mean?

someday she could give me the slip, and escape to the outside world,
find her Romeo and live happily ever after, or something like that.
Maybe continue her career as a model. But that couldn’t happen, I
thought… she needed the sex. She was addicted to it, and I was the
only one who could give it to her.

I’d been so stupid. At first, sure, when I’d been using the orgasm
drug and only fucking her myself, sure, _then_ I had been the only one
who could give her what she needed. But since then, I’d trained her
to enjoy having sex with other men, any men, and without the drug.
Now, if she left me, she could easily find someone else to give her
the regular fucking she needed. Sure, she had this thing about
talking dirty during sex, but most men would like that. (After all,
that was why I’d taught her to do it.) And she’d be in pain trying to
walk without heels, but some physical therapy could take care of that.
I’d turned her into a genuine slut, and had thus made myself
vulnerable.

the catalog for some other, more trivial reason. But I had no way of
knowing, short of confronting her, and I didn’t want to do that. I
had to assume the worst, that she was planning to escape, waiting for
her chance.

in her new life as a slut, with nowhere else to run to. And I knew
just how to do it. It would involve doing certain things earlier than
I’d originally planned, but nothing I hadn’t already planned on doing
and budgeted for. It was quite simple, really. Up until now, Suzi
and Suzanne had been fighting for control of Suzanne’s body.

fucking, I announced that we were going to visit the doctor. Suzi was
curious as to why. (Since I’d just fucked her, it actually was eager,
slutty Suzi I was talking to, not depressed, unhappy, Suzanne.) I
told her that I’d tell her in the car, and to hurry up and get
dressed.

bought late the night before. The amazing thing about them was that
they were perfectly ordinary women’s clothes, of the sort that a
young, middle-class wife might wear on the weekend, when going
shopping. Aside from the extreme length of the heels on the pumps,
there was nothing at all unusual about them.

confused. She hadn’t worn clothes like these in months! I ushered
her out the door to the car, giving her clitoris a quick rub to keep
her excitement up. It was important that the eager, cooperative Suzi
be in charge this morning.

water I had in the car. The water had been treated with the
aphrodisiac. I had her drink it slowly over the course of the ride
because I would need to have Suzi available for quite awhile.

going?”

see the doctor. Will Suzi get to fuck the doctor?”

good little slut, don’t you?”

be!”

that eager, peppy voice talk about how much she craved sex, I got an
urge to nail her. Which was generally what she wanted. But I
couldn’t do it this morning. We had an appointment to keep. “You’ve
been watching those other sluts on the videos I got, haven’t you?”

as them.” She ended the sentence on a dejected note, unhappy with her
lack of success. “Suzi tries as hard as she can, but she still
doesn’t get as much come as they do.”

to her. It was useful for her to think that. “Well, you are trying
very hard, slave, but trying hard can only get you so far.”

was substantially less intelligent than Suzanne. An unexpected
effect, but certainly one I welcomed. Suzanne would’ve figured out
what was going on by now.

over you – things that really aren’t your fault.”

than Suzi?”

are.” Which was true. Most porn actresses couldn’t hold a candle to
Suzi in the looks department, and only a few were even close to being
as pretty as she was. “It’s something else. It’s your tits.”

She looked down at her boobs, pushing at the fabric of her dress, and
caressed them curiously.

it.”

why we’re going to the doctor? To get Suzi bigger tits?” She looked
at me, her face begging me to say it was so.

she can squeeze them around her master’s cock and get lots of hot,
sticky jism all over her face.”

the doctor. And there are certain rules you need to follow…”

building. As we went inside, I whispered to Suzi, “Now, remember,
agree to everything I say.”

plastic surgeon. I’d done some careful research on this guy. Green
had given boob jobs to several popular porn actresses. I’d picked up
as many videos featuring these women as I could find, from both before
and after their operations. So far as I could tell, he’d done an
excellent job every time.

I leafed through a advertising brochure full of “before” and “after”
pictures. Suzi sat quietly next to me, smiling to herself and
occasionally rubbing one of her nipples through her dress.

showed us into his office. “What can I do for you two this morning?”

she’s looking into getting some implants.” Thanks to a name change
filed in court by mail a few weeks ago, Suzi’s name was official.

next half hour, we looked through several books, as Dr. Green
explained in detail what was available, and in what sizes. I did all
the talking, and asking of questions; Suzi merely nodded and
occasionally gave monosyllabic sounds of agreement. This didn’t seem
to bother the doctor one bit.

find what I wanted in any of the standard offerings, so I took the
initiative. “Doctor, can you do something a bit unusual?”

sketch of what I wanted, explaining as I went. When I was finished,
Dr. Green picked up the paper and leaned back in his chair, looking at
it thoughtfully. “This is going to cost a bit extra,” he said at
last.

some forms. “Now we need to schedule a surgery date. I have an
opening three weeks from Tuesday…”

just…”

twenty-five thousand dollars.

shrugged. “Okay. I’ve got some time scheduled at the hospital
downtown. Come by at 8 a.m. This is going to take all day. I’ll
have to build the implants tonight.”

pleased about having to spend so much money to get the operation done
quickly, but I really had no choice. Suzi was excited about the
operation, but Suzanne would see it for what it was, a move toward
imprisoning her in a slut’s body. With tits like the ones she was
going to have after tomorrow, her chances of getting a conventional
modeling job would be slim to none. If I’d agreed to wait three weeks
for the operation, Suzanne would have had more than enough time to
make an escape attempt, and the forthcoming operation would give her
plenty of motivation to do so. With less than twenty-four hours to
wait, though, I would have no trouble keeping her under control.
Twenty-five thousand dollars wasn’t much to spend to protect what I’d
already invested in my whore.

the car. “Suzi’s going to have big, slutty tits!” she exclaimed,
running her hands all over her nipples.

so excited!”

commanded.

Suzi’s master going to stick his thick, hard cock up Suzi’s hot, juicy
pussy?”

your back!” Suzi lay on her back on the car seat, her legs spread and
her heels planted firmly on the car ceiling. She pulled her skirt up
and closed her eyes expectantly.

sprang free, pointing at Suzi’s dripping snatch. I moved my body
between my slut’s legs and rammed my stiff cock into her cunt.

at me as she squeezed my cock with her cunt, moaning with pleasure all
the while. “Oh, fuck Suzi, master. Slam your hard cock deep into
your whore’s pussy. This cock-craving bitch needs your come so bad…
Yes! Shoot your jism into Suzi’s cunt!”

as I shot my load into my eager little slut. She screamed as she came
to her own orgasm, the pleasure overwhelming her as her cunt gripped
my cock tightly, milking every last drop of come.

as possible. I’d canceled her engagements for that night, and the
next two, in order to give her plenty of rest for the surgery, as well
as to make sure I got a good amount of use out of her new tits before
they were made available to the general public. Since she wasn’t
going to get gang-banged that night, I had to keep a close eye on her
in order to make sure that Suzanne wouldn’t try to escape before the
operation tomorrow.

practiced dancing. A couple days earlier, I had moved her up from
five-inch heels to six-inch, and she was having some trouble learning
to balance on the new shoes. The shame of it was that the progress
she’d made since starting in the new heels was going to get wiped out
by her operation. Her new breasts would shift her center of balance
and force her to start all over again. No doubt a depressing
experience for her. But since it was Suzanne, and not Suzi, who had
put in all the effort learning to balance on the heels in the first
place, I was more than happy to have all that effort wiped out. Maybe
the bitch would go away after the operation.

bringing her no end of enjoyment as she came to another screaming
orgasm impaled on my cock. I stayed with her in the evening as she
watched her nightly movie, tweaking her nipples or rubbing her clit
occasionally to keep Suzi in charge. We went to bed early, and she
fell asleep after I’d used her twice.

we got ready to go to the doctor. Suzi again put on the flowery
dress. I had her tie her hair in a bun and leave off the makeup. She
was confused, but obeyed nonetheless. After a light breakfast, with
enough of the aphrodisiac in Suzi’s orange juice to keep her aroused
until the operation started, we drove to the hospital. Suzi was quite
excited, bouncing up and down the whole way, begging me to fuck her.
Only when we had finally parked did I allow her to give me a blowjob.
She dived in with her usual enthusiasm, and I shot my wad down her
throat as she smiled contentedly.

prep room. I was allowed to stay with her while she was being
anesthetized. She lay there, looking up at me, with the facemask
covering her nose and mouth. Her eyes slowly narrowed as the
anesthetic took effect. As she slipped into unconsciousness, I saw
in her eyes not the worshipful, puppylike adoration of Suzi, but the
cold bitterness of Suzanne. Hatred burned in those eyes as she stared
at me. Slowly, they closed and she fell asleep.

room. I grabbed lunch at a fast-food joint in the hospital basement.
Finally, late in the afternoon, Dr. Green came out. “It’s done.
She’s in the recovery room. You can go see her if you want. I’ve got
to clean up, so I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” He gave me the
room number and left.

closing the door behind me. Suzi lay sleeping on the bed, a white
sheet draped over her form. Eagerly, I pulled the sheet off of her
chest. It was amazing.

Where before there had been two firm little breasts there now stood a
pair of mammoth globes of flesh. Suzi’s new tits stood firmly out
from her body, begging for attention. But her nipples were
mouthwatering. Her aereolae stood further out from the flesh of her
tits, pointing at the ceiling. Atop these brown cones stood erect
nipples, fully a quarter inch in diameter.

projection. I wanted both. The design Dr. Green and I had come up
with used two implants for each breast. A normal spherical implant
gave volume, making Suzi’s tits round and firm. On top of this stood
a smaller implant, which pushed the aereola into a conical shape and
thrust the nipples outward. The overall effect was a pair of breasts
designed for fucking and sucking. They were quite obviously
artificial, as was fitting for the tits of a slut.

between my fingers. Suzi moaned in her sleep. Bending over, I ran my
tongue around it, simultaneously playing with her other nipple. God,
it was so delicious.

squealed in delight. “Oh, Suzi’s tits are so big! Now Suzi can be a
real slut!”

the bag I had carried in with me and pulled out a pair of Suzi’s
fire-engine red six-inch heels. I slipped them quickly over her feet,
covering them with the hospital blanket. She would need those later,
and besides, she might have a hard time enjoying sex without them.
Returning to the head of the bed, I unzipped my pants and thrust my
cock into Suzi’s face. “Suck your master’s cock, slut, and I’ll fuck
your new tits.”

my cock with a new eagerness. She gripped my shaft with one hand as
her lips slid up and down its length. With her free hand, she rubbed
one of her tits, moaning softly to herself.

bed, sitting astride her stomach and laying my cock in the deep furrow
between Suzi’s boobs. Her hands went to her tits and she squeezed
them around my cock, rolling her nipples between her fingers. She
squealed in pleasure as I slowly began to slide my lubricated cock
back and forth between her tits. Suzi continued massaging my cock
with her boobs, giving my cockhead a tickle with her tongue every time
it thrust toward her mouth.

accomplished. Suzi had had been acting like a slut for nearly a year
now, almost since I’d met her. She had been dressing like a slut for
most of that time, as well. And she’d been talking like a slut ever
since she’d moved in about a month and a half ago. But up until the
operation, it could have all been an act. Now it was real. Now she
had the body of a slut. And there was no way Suzanne could escape
that.

out of the tight canyon between them. Suzi moaned louder and louder
as her orgasm built. My cock exploded with pressure, and sticky
strings of come shot from its tip onto Suzi’s lust-filled face. The
familiar taste and feel of my come sent her over the edge into an
intense orgasm.

it, but inevitably some of it dribbled into her hair. After I had
recovered from my orgasm, I got off the bed and wiped off her face
with some paper towels. She looked at me adoringly. “Can Suzi be as
good a slut as the whores in the videos now?” she asked.

come off her face. Just as I was finishing, Dr. Green came in.

you’d like.”

shrugged modestly at this. I turned to Suzi. “Suzi, why don’t you
thank Dr. Green, okay?”

exposing her naked body, and strode across the room. Her heels
clicked on the floor as her ass swayed from side to side. Her new
tits jiggled slightly with the walk. Green’s jaw dropped.

his pants. Deftly unzipping his fly, she pulled out his soft, but
rapidly hardening cock. “Oooooh, Dr. Green, can Suzi suck your cock?”
she asked innocently, looking up at him with a pleading expression.

lips around Dr. Green’s shaft.

me in half an hour, okay, doc?”

Chapter 7

The Finishing Touch

later, a trickle of semen running down her leg. Good, I thought.
Dr. Green deserved that for the quality of the work he’d done.

use as I could of her mouth, cunt, ass, and especially her tits, even
when I wasn’t fucking them. When I reamed her cunt from behind, I
would always reach underneath her and cup her breasts, savoring the
feeling of their full roundness in my hands, tweaking and rubbing the
always-erect nipples.

had stretched the skin on her chest quite a bit, and that, combined
with the aereola implants, made her nipples extremely sensitive.
Whenever she got a chance, she would pop one nipple out of whatever
clothes she was wearing at the time and play with it absentmindedly,
softly moaning to herself as she did so.

Even after I bought her some new clothes for her new body, it was
still a tight fit to keep her tits inside anything. As a result, her
already sensitive nipples were under enormous pressure as her clothing
strained to contain her boobs. I had worried at first that this might
be a painful experience.

on her nipples actually had an arousing effect. It couldn’t bring her
to orgasm by itself, but it was enough to keep her mildly horny most
of the day. Suzi enjoyed wearing tight clothes, because these created
the most pressure on her tits. One extremely beneficial side effect
of this whole thing was that the constant stimulation meant that the
slutty half of her personality was more often in control.

disappeared from view, generally appearing only in the morning right
after she’d woken up or late at night when she was undressing to go to
bed. When I did see her, she was even more morose than usual.

gang-bang circuit. She was more popular than ever at bachelor parties
and casual celebrations. I raised the price to $1500 and she was
still booked solid weeks in advance. My investment was really
starting to pay off.

local strip bar, the California. She was well-practiced by now, and I
knew she’d get the gig rather easily. Just to be sure, though, I
cleared her engagements the two nights before the audition, so she’d
be well-rested and extra horny.

for an audience of half a dozen people — the manager, a few employees
preparing for the night’s business, and myself. At the end of the
routine, Suzi lay in a breathtaking pose across a chair, her back
arched, massive tits thrust skyward, pussy exposed and wet, and a
seductive smile on her face. The manager jumped to his feet and
applauded.

I’d like you to meet Suzi. Suzi, this is Mr. Hargraves, the manager
of the bar,”

shake.

him, her hands busily unzipping his pants. Lenny looked at me
questioningly. I shrugged. Suzi extracted his hard cock from the
confines of his pants and looked at it eagerly.

wants it. Can Suzi please suck on your hard cock?”

way of introducing herself,” I said matter-of-factly. “She really
likes it.”

pleading eyes. “Yes, go ahead, Suzi, suck my cock.”

her head bobbing up and down on his shaft. She hadn’t been lying when
she said it was big, either. It was over nine inches long, probably
the biggest cock she’d ever seen. But she was still able to
deep-throat him. When she took him all the way down, her lips touched
his pubic hair. Her tongue would dart out and tickle his balls from
time to time.

Suzi took her mouth off his shaft and held it in her hand, stroking it
gently, holding him on the brink of orgasm. Lenny was in a daze.

here,” I stated, as though this was a perfectly normal situation in
which to discuss business.

of his mind enough not to argue. “N-no way. T-two-fifty, tops.”
Suzi continued to stroke his cock, tantalizing him.

suggest you agree to my offer,” I responded. We stood there in
silence for a moment, Lenny muttering to himself while Suzi gently
rubbed his erect prick.

h-h-high as I go.”

Lenny, and you get to fuck Suzi every night she appears.”

Suzi wants to have her tight, wet pussy filled with your big, hard
cock before she dances. Please, please, please! Suzi wants to be
fucked!” I’d rehearsed this with her before the audition, but I could
see by the gleam in her eye that her excitement was genuine. She
really was eager for the chance to get this large prick in her cunt on
a regular basis.

edge. “Okay, it’s a d-deal. Five hundred.”

you. Go ahead, Suzi.”

fifteen seconds, Lenny was coming. Some of his jism escaped from
Suzi’s mouth and rolled down her chin. She shook in orgasm.

details of the contract. Suzi was to appear every Thursday as the
featured performer, doing four half-hour shows starting every two
hours from six in the evening to midnight. She would have her own
private dressing room for the night, to relax between shows. As her
manager, I would be paid $500 per night, in addition to whatever tips
Suzi earned while dancing. And Lenny would get to fuck her each night
before her first show. The contract would last for three months,
after which we could renegotiate. The whole time we were discussing
these matters, Suzi had been stroking Lenny’s cock, bringing him back
to erection.

Lenny. I’m going to go out to the bar and have a drink. Why don’t
you two get to know each other a little better?” With that, I walked
out the door of the dressing room, closing it behind me.

edge of the makeup table, her legs draped over Lenny’s shoulders, and
her glistening cunt filled with Lenny’s thick meat. “Yes,
Mr. Hargraves, yes!” Suzi yelled in her squeaky new voice. “Fuck
Suzi’s hot, went cunt with your hard cock! Oh, that feels so good!
Fuck Suzi!”

Suzi’s exhortations and the invigorating massage her cunt was giving
his prick, Lenny came. His sticky white come flowed out of the
corners of Suzi’s cunt, dripping onto the table. Suzi’s dirty talk
turned into unintelligible groans as she came herself. Lenny
collapsed into a chair, exhausted. “You are some incredible fuck,
Suzi!”

so excited that before we got into my car to leave, I fucked her on
the hood, in broad daylight. Suzi, of course, was as eager as ever.
What a fabulous little slut I had.

crowd whooped and hollered as she strode onto the stage in her “candy”
outfit, supplemented by a red-and-white jacket. She pranced around on
her heels to the tune of “I Know What Boys Like” for awhile, slowly
removing the jacket, skirt, and top. Each step in undressing was
greeted by a roar of applause and hooting from the male audience. The
crowd went wild when she began removing her black lace underwear,
cupping her breasts and teasing her pussy. She finished the routine
draped across the chair, wearing nothing but the striped socks, the
heels, the polka-dot gloves, and the bow in her hair. Her breasts
heaved and her cunt glistened with wetness.

dressing room and closed the door. “That was fantastic, slut. Now
suck my cock.” Suzi pulled my raging hard-on out of my pants and
eagerly serviced it. When I was good and hard, I removed my cock from
her mouth, lay her on her back, and fucked her brains out. “Yes, yes!
Suzi’s cunt is so hot and wet from dancing, and her master’s cock
feels so good filling it up! Fuck your slutty little whore, master,
give it to your bitch!” I exploded in her cunt, my hot jism filling
her up.

out into the hall, closing the door behind me. A crowd of men were
standing outside, all eager to get in and talk to Suzi. “One at a
time, gentlemen, one at a time!” I yelled. “Five dollars to talk to
Suzi for five minutes.” This dissuaded some of them, but not many. I
grabbed the first bill held in front of me, and ushered the lucky
holder inside, closing the door behind us.

moved gently up and down as she breathed. The guy I had brought in,
who looked to be in his early twenties, looked at her and lost his
cool. “Uh… c-could I have your autograph, ma’am?”

signed the paper with a big “Suzi” and handed them back.

but was cut off by Suzi’s hands on his crotch. She crouched in front
of him, fingers deftly unzipping his fly. His erect cock sprung up
into her face.

stunned, and made no reply, just staring at her pleading face.
“Please? Suzi wants your hard cock in her mouth so bad.”

to orgasm. He came in her mouth, his knees shaking. Suzi eagerly
swallowed his come. When he was done, I led him back outside and
closed the door.

bombarded with questions from people who wanted to know what had
happened. Slowly, they figured it out and began clamoring even more
fervently to see Suzi. Taking advantage of the increase in demand, I
jacked up the price. “The price is now fifty dollars for five
minutes.” The crowd barely let up. Wads of cash were thrust into my
face.

the whole time. Sometimes they chose to have a blowjob, sometimes
they wanted to fuck her. Either way, Suzi was able to quickly bring
them off, despite the fact that many of them had already come once
jacking off to her performance on stage.

cut it short to give Suzi time to rest. Her next show started half an
hour later, and was received every bit as warmly as the first. I
jacked the price of five minutes with Suzi up to $60 after that one,
and $75 after her 10:00 show. Each time I got ten guys in and out of
Suzi’s dressing room in under an hour. All of them left very happy.

show, I shut down and collected my money from Lenny. I let him make
use of Suzi one more time before we left. Between the normal payment
for the performance and the money I raked in charging admission, I
cleared over $3000 that night. No doubt about it, this slut was going
to make me a lot of money.

finish the construction of Suzi’s body, so I scheduled an appointment
with Dr. Green for an afternoon. I told him to be ready to perform a
few non-surgical procedures on Suzi. He balked at first, but
acquiesced after I reminded him how much I’d paid him last time, and
made it clear I was willing to repeat that if he was cooperative.

gave him a hug and a deep, lustful kiss, quickly squeezing his crotch
with her hand for emphasis. Green moaned at her touch.

began dosing her mouth with novocaine while I explained what I was
after. Dr. Green had realized after Suzi’s last bit of surgery that I
was the one in charge, and so I didn’t bother with the charade of
pretending that Suzi was getting this done on her own initiative.

exactly what I wanted, what effect I was trying to achieve. Green
asked a few questions and made a few suggestions, and between the two
of us we settled on what he was going to do. After we had reached an
agreement, I shook Green’s hand and left the office, allowing him to
work undisturbed. I spent the afternoon at a few beauty-supply
stores, picking up some things Suzi would need later on. I returned
to the clinic late that afternoon. Dr. Green came out to the waiting
room to meet me, and showed me back into the room where Suzi lay on
the chair.

her eyebrows had been thick and blonde. Now, thanks to some skilled
electrolysis work on Dr. Green’s part, as well as some black dye, they
had been reduced to two dark lines over her eyes, starting at almost
their previous thickness on the inside and tapering to nothing as they
arched ever so slightly above her eyes.

had always been big and bright, wide open. Dr. Green had applied a
soothing cream to the skin of her eyelids, causing the muscles in them
to relax. As a result, her eyelids were incapable of opening fully,
fixing her face with a cheap, whorish look.

pair of collagen injections, causing her lips to expand. They were
now fixed in a permanent pout, forever hungry for cock. Green had
created a masterpiece, the face of a true slut. I stroked her
forehead gently as Suzi gazed up at me adoringly.

but decided to save mine until just a little later. So I wrote Green
a check for twenty thousand dollars and handed it to him. “Now, Suzi,
how do we say thanks to the doctor?” I asked.

to wash her hair. She seemed a bit puzzled by this request, but as
usual, she obeyed without question. When she got out, I had her towel
her hair half dry and sit down in front of the mirror.

her. “Put this in your hair. I want you to rub it in really well,
and get it all over your hair. Then I want you sit here until I get
back. You can play with yourself, but don’t come. Got it?”

small bottle. I left her to her work.

in front of the mirror. Her hair was well-soaked with the solution,
and she was playing idly with her left nipple, a smile of pleasure on
her face. The room stank to high heaven of hydrogen peroxide. Her
hair looked faintly lighter, but it was difficult to tell, since it
was wet. I instructed Suzi to rinse her hair well and then wash it
again, dry it, and style it as usual. Then she was to come out to the
living room.

formerly a honey blonde, was now a bright platinum shade, and fell
over her shoulders in lustrous waves. Her fat, pouting lips shone a
bright, shiny pink. Large plastic hoops dangled from her ears. Her
breasts strained against a black mesh bodysuit, and her six-inch
spiked heels glistened as they clicked across the floor. She had long
been the perfect slut, and now she had the perfect body to match.

slut,” I commanded.

clicking on the floor, ass swaying as she walked, tits bouncing ever
so slightly inside the mesh. Glossy pink fingernails glistened as she
deftly unzipped my fly, freeing my erection. Suzi eagerly wrapped her
shiny, pouting lips around shaft and began to pump it in and out of
her mouth. I grabbed the neckline of the bodysuit and pulled it down
below her tits. Slowly, I fondled her nipples, giving them an
occasional squeeze.

imprisoned, trapped in a body designed for one purpose – to be fucked.
The lips caressing my cock were those of a slut, and that was what she
would be, forever. She had no choice anymore.

slut.” My bleach-blonde bitch let my cock slowly out of her mouth and
aimed it at her face. Gently, her fingers stroked it, fueling my
orgasm. I came explosively, my jism squirting all over her upturned
face. As she had countless times in the past, Suzi ran her fingers
across her face, wiping up all she could and bringing it to her mouth.
I smiled. I had done it.

several more job offers from other strip clubs in the area. Soon she
was performing weekly at a total of four clubs. These ranged from a
bar geared toward college students, where she typically pulled in
$2500 a night, up to a pricey executive club, where I sold her time at
$200 for ten minutes (I knew that older men would want a more relaxed
fuck) and raked in a total of $6000 per night.

I raised the price for private appearances to $2000 and she was still
booked solid. I could easily have raised the price on these to $5000
and had no trouble finding clients. Doing that, however, would mean
that most of her customers would be older men, who were less frisky
and less imaginative about their sex, and I wanted to make sure Suzi
got as much use as possible, in as many ways as possible. And it’s
not like I was desperate for the money anyway. Suzi was earning me
close to $20,000 a week as it was.

constant engagements, I was getting less and less time to fuck her,
and I needed a full day to make up for it. Typically I would spend
six solid hours on these days using my bitch every way I could. It
was on one of these nights that I saw Suzanne for the last time.

already I was horny again. Normally I gave her a couple hours alone
in the living room to watch one of her porn movies, but something was
stirring in me, and I really felt like using my bitch.

on the couch watching a movie. But she wasn’t there. I checked the
kitchen, the dining room, and her practice room, and still couldn’t
find her. I went into the bedroom and checked around. Still no sign.
I was starting to get worried when I heard a soft noise from the
bathroom.

crying, a gentle sobbing noise, as though she was trying to keep from
crying, but failing. Slowly, I pushed the door open.

softly. Her face was red, and tears rolled down her cheeks. One hand
rested on the counter, and the other held the catalog.

drawer of her vanity after I’d discovered it, so as not to tip her off
that I’d found it, and after that I’d forgotten it.

just stood there, crying. I looked down at the catalog in her hand.
It was open to the page with the picture of the happy young family.
Here and there the page was wet with tears.

name for the first time in several months. “You can’t go back to that
anymore.” I said softly.

it into her face. “Look at the woman in this picture. Look at her!
Now look in the mirror!” I grabbed her body and turned her to face
the mirror. “You can’t be a model anymore. Do you think anyone would
hire you, looking like this?”

Don’t try to be Suzanne. Just let yourself be Suzi. Suzi enjoys
being a slut. Why fight it?”

the man who showed you how to enjoy yourself, is it?”

fucker! You gave me those drugs and manipulated me into becoming what
you wanted! You turned me into…” She broke off and looked into the
mirror, crying again.

you didn’t want to do.”

screamed. “Like some sort of whore?”

needed me to show you the way.”

didn’t really, deep inside, want to do?”

down to kneel in front of me. Frantically unzipping my pants, she
took my cock into her mouth and began sucking on it, pumping it back
and forth between her thick red lips.

slut.”

Epilogue

the thick cock in her mouth. Her luscious red lips slid back and
forth along its length, almost closing at one end of each stroke, and
nuzzling Jimmy’s balls at the other end. Jimmy’s hand rested on one
side of her head, guiding her along his meaty prick.

forty thousand dollars a week. Men were willing to pay outrageous
amounts of money just for a chance to nail the blonde cream-dream who
would fuck anyone that asked.

the magazines, and soon the movie companies. Suzi made several
appearances in soft-core porn magazines, the type that printed eight
or ten pages of pictures of her spreading her cunt and fondling her
tits, along with some made-up quotes about how much she loved to suck
dick, or get her pussy pounded. She was probably the only woman ever
to appear in those magazines for whom the quotes were even remotely
accurate.

insisting on $2,000 per movie up front, plus royalties per copy sold.
Most of the companies balked at this at first, but I got a few to come
around. Flying out to visit the executives personally and having Suzi
give them blowjobs probably helped a lot. For some reason, most men
have no willpower when a hot bitch like Suzi is keeping them on the
edge of orgasm.

personality, and her enthusiasm for fucking and sucking made her an
instant success in adult films. Directors sought me out to get her to
star in their films; it became common wisdom that any movie with Suzi
in it was a guaranteed blockbuster. I was selective about which
offers I accepted; after her first few videos broke records, I set her
price at $8,000 per film plus a large cut in royalties and control
over future use of footage. Since most films were shot in a day, this
was nearly as lucrative in the short term as stripping, and the
royalties made for a long-term windfall.

popular as a stripper. At the time her tenth movie broke all records
for adult video sales, Suzi Slut was capable of pulling in $20,000
a night stripping and fucking backstage. (Her stage name was Suzi
Slick, but her reputation for fucking almost everyone had earned her
the unofficial last name “Slut.” Even the announcers at her gigs
often “mispronounced” her last name as she came onstage.)

evening in the bathroom, I’d pressed her up against the wall and
pounded her pussy until Suzi came in the most violent orgasm she’d
ever experienced. The thing is, I don’t think it was Suzi that I’d
fucked that night. I think it was Suzanne.

hard as she could, squeezing her cunt around my cock and orgasming as
I came in her pussy. But she hadn’t let out with the usual string of
dirty talk, the exhortations to “fuck your slut harder”, or the high
squeals of pleasure that were Suzi’s trademarks. Rather, she’d just
let out a string of soft, passionate moans and grunts, like she had
the very first night I’d fucked her, so long ago.

intense, and she enjoyed them immensely, but it was the enjoyment of
an old, familiar pleasure. Her enjoyment that night in the bathroom
had seemed different. More like the enjoyment of a new and almost
unexpected pleasure. Like she was getting fucked for the very first
time.

never tired or upset. Good old fuckable Suzi, the well-practiced slut
with the wet-dream body who craved cock. Suzanne’s dour, tired mood
never intruded.

being fucked. It always happened when she first had a cock stuck
inside her. Her dirty talk would trail off, and she would be silent.
Slowly, she would begin giving those soft grunts that I’d heard in the
beginning, the moans that seemed to express surprise at her own
pleasure. Her fucking would seem less experienced, less skilled, but
filled with a certain raw enthusiasm that was something beyond what
Suzi could normally put in. It was like she knew all the techniques,
but had never practiced them. As though an experienced friend was
teaching he how to fuck. It always happened when I wasn’t expecting
it, and after she’d finished coming, she was always back to normal.
But I could always swear that I’d been screwing someone very
different.

and rested its head on her outstretched tongue. She jacked her hand
up and down its length as he muttered, “Oh, yeah, baby, I’m gonna
come, you ready for it? Ready for my come, baby?” Suzi, unable to
speak with his cock resting on her tongue, could only nod
enthusiastically. “Here it comes, babe!” Jimmy said as his cock
erupted with jism.

her cheeks or her upper lip. She continued to jack Jimmy’s shaft as
his sperm sprayed into her mouth. When his orgasm subsided, she
closed her mouth and began to spread soft kisses over his cock. The
jism in her mouth slowly dribbled out, coating her lips and mouth in a
layer of creamy white come. She gave the camera that slutty look that
had helped make her the highest-grossing adult film star of the
previous year, and had made me a multimillionaire.

Wood got up and left immediately, heading back to his dressing room.
Male porn stars were probably the most sexually exhausted people in
the world.

and knees over to the director’s chair and began to unzip his fly.
His cock, excited by the hours of watching the filming, sprang fully
erect from his pants.

The size of his cock shouldn’t have come as any surprise to Suzi.
She’d starred in films directed by him before, and had hence sucked
his meaty cock several times, as well as having it crammed up her
pussy more than once. But it was part of the act.

it nonetheless. “Would you like me to fuck you with it, Suzi? Would
you like to feel my thick cock in your hot, wet pussy?” he asked,
continuing the game.

fill Suzi’s wet pussy with your hard cock, Mr. Edmonds!” Suzi turned
around as she spoke, dropping to her hands and knees and presenting
her dripping pussy to him. “Please fuck Suzi with your cock! Ohhhh!”

her, slammed his cock into her glistening cunt. The other men on the
set gathered round, waiting their turn. The director always got to go
first, but after that, anyone who could get their dick into a free
hole on Suzi’s body was welcome to use it. Suzi was popular with the
production crews. These sessions usually ended with an exhausted Suzi
lying contentedly on the floor, her face, tits, cunt and ass dripping
with come.

a care in the world beyond where her next wad of jism was coming from.
I wondered what I’d do with her once her popularity died down.
Probably marry her off to some rich guy who knew how to show her a
good time. I’d hang on to the rights to her movies, of course. And
then? Probably start all over again with someone else. After all, I
had the technique pretty much down pat. I had my eye on this aspiring
model…

rolled over and lay on her stomach as he positioned himself above her
face. Her hand went to his cock and jacked it furiously. With a cry
of pleasure, he came, spilling sticky ropes of come across her face
and tits. Suzi used her free hand to move as much as she could to her
mouth, slurping it up.

his rock-hard cock into her pussy, while several more dangled their
pricks over her face. Suzi took one at random and began slurping on
it. She lay there for a long time, taking a series of cocks into her
mouth and pussy and making each one give up its load of come. She was
in heaven.

happy.

-Downing Street

Amanda stepped into the walk-in closet and regarded her new wardrobe with dismay. There must be something there she could wear. It was a weekend, so the rules became rather more restrictive. At least during the week she could dress properly, as befitted a corporate executive, albeit lately a rather sexy one. But on the weekends, Simon said she had to be a lot more revealing.

Simon said….

Well, she didn’t have to do everything her step-son said. It wasn’t like he had threatened force, or had anything to hold over her. She reached tentatively for a long, comfortable dress in blue cotton. She fingered it for a moment. She let it go. Simon said she couldn’t wear that kind of dress any more.

Simon said…..

Ever since he had returned from the trip to India and the Middle East, Simon had been different somehow. Amanda had been concerned, almost panicked, when his letters stopped, but when she picked him up at the airport he acted like nothing exceptional had happened. When pressed, he admitted that he had abandoned the packaged tour after a few days, and fallen in with a rag-tag group of pilgrims looking for some sort of enlightenment. He spoke of wandering the desert for weeks, of getting lost and sick in the monsoonal jungles, of losing track of time and place, and finally, high on a mountain top somewhere in the Himalayas, meeting an old, drug-addled man who claimed to be able to see into the depths of the human spirit.

He told her all this over the next few days in response to her relentless questions. How could he just disappear for more than six months? He had lost track of time; it didn’t seem important in the desert. Why hadn’t he written to her, or called or something? Didn’t he realize how worried she had been? A shrug. He had been sick. Did he see a doctor? Get medical attention? Another shrug. He claimed not to need doctors any more.

Eventually, Amanda gave up trying to pump more information out of him. She figured he would come around on his own time, once he got his strength back. He had lost a great deal of weight, and now seemed wan and thin. Over the next few weeks he spoke little, but spent a long time each day sitting in his room repeating strange chants in a foreign language. Amanda decided not to push it. Whatever happened to him over there had obviously affected him deeply. Besides, she was a busy executive with lots of other things to occupy her mind.

And then one morning, out of the blue, he told her she was wearing the wrong suit. She looked at him. He was dressed in his usual style since the trip, black jeans and a black T-shirt. The clothes made his thin frame seem insubstantial, like a collection of shadows. The dark goatee he now wore only enhanced his gaunt, vaguely sinister look. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked, looking down. It was the suit she liked to wear for meetings, a crisp, tailored brown pantsuit that looked both flattering and professional.

“Pants are all wrong,” he said decisively. “Not you at all, Mom. Try something with a skirt.”

Amanda opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. What was he talking about? Since when did he care what she wore to work? And when did a twenty-year-old university drop-out become an expert on office fashion? This suit would do just fine.

Still….

After a moment’s hesitation she turned and trotted back up to the bedroom.

She emerged a few minutes later in a dark blue wool suit with a calf-length skirt. She felt a little silly for indulging Simon’s whim. She told herself it was a good sign that he was interested in what was going on around him. He had been very distant lately.

“OK, how’s this?” she said cheerfully, bustling into the livingroom.

Her step-son regarded her appraisingly. “It will do,” he pronounced, unsmiling. “For now.”

Amanda’s cheerful mood wilted. She started to say something, to reproach him for his ill manners, but Simon had already turned away and was staring blankly out the window. It was as if he saw something else there than the green lawn and neatly trimmed shrubbery of their suburban yard. After a long moment Amanda turned and marched out the door. Discussion could wait. She was late for work.

They never did discuss the incident. Simon remained withdrawn and uncommunicative and Amanda could never find the right moment to bring it up. The next morning, however, Simon again objected to her clothing. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Simon, what’s wrong with this one?” Amanda cried. She was wearing a white blouse and navy blue slacks with a matching blue blazer.

“It’s like I told you, Mom. Pants are all wrong for you. Wear a dress. You look much better in a dress.”

“Simon, don’t be ridiculous,” Amanda replied. “I can’t wear–” She stopped, momentarily confused. She liked slacks, wore them almost every day, knew they looked professional, stylish, and comfortable. So why, suddenly, did it seem so, odd to be wearing them today? Why did a dress seem so powerfully, undeniably right as soon as Simon suggested it?

She knew she didn’t want to wear a dress. She certainly wasn’t about to change clothes twice in two days just because her stressed-out step-son told her too. Yet….

There was something else too, another feeling that Amanda found most distracting. She ignored it resolutely.

“Simon, I–” she began again. “I, uhm…. do you really think…” She couldn’t understand why she was so hesitant.

Simon spoke firmly. “Yes, Mother, I do. Those pants aren’t attractive. Go put on a dress.” It was more like an order this time.

“All right, Simon. Just this once.” She turned and headed back upstairs to the bedroom. The feeling in her belly was getting stronger.

By the time Amanda climbed into her BMW a few minutes later, sporting a conservative black-and-white dress and low black pumps, she had identified the unexpected feeling in her gut.

Arousal.

It was preposterous, yet somehow her step-son was turning her on. No, not quite. It was obeying her son that was turning her on. As soon as she agreed to change her clothes she felt a delicious pulse of sexual excitement that lingered still. She squeezed her thighs together and felt the moisture in her panties.

What was going on here?

On the third morning, when Simon again instructed her to change her clothes, Amanda rebelled. “Look, young man,” she pronounced, glowering at him. “You back off and remember your station. I don’t know what little game you’re playing and I don’t care. I will wear what I feel like wearing, and you will keep your opinions to yourself! Unless you would like to add living on the streets to your list of travel adventures. Do you understand me, Simon?”

Her step-son looked taken aback by the outburst. He started to say something but Amanda cut him off. “Not another word out of you!” she shouted. “Not another word. We’ll discuss this further when I get home. Right now get out of my way, I have to go to work.” And with that she stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

There, that was better. A good temper tantrum to put an end to this foolishness. Adopted or not, Simon was still her son, and he’d better remember to act accordingly.

As the day wore on, Amanda found she couldn’t put the incident out of her mind. She kept looking at her slacks and feeling the inexplicable wrongness of them. Were people looking at her funny? Every time one of her co-workers smiled she wondered if they were secretly laughing at her slacks. They were perfectly good pants, she told herself a dozen times. Heaven knows they cost enough. I wear these all the time. But Simon said….

By noon she couldn’t stand it any longer. Growling at her secretary she marched out of the office and went shopping, something she never did during the workday. The feeling of sexual excitement returned as she walked into one of her favourite, upscale shops, and grew stronger when she slipped into the expensive floral-on-black outfit she finally bought.

Simon noticed the change of clothing when she arrived home from work that evening, and he smiled for the first time in weeks. Amanda never asked what he did during the day, but he seemed to have regained the aloof composure he had temporarily lost during their setto that morning. While making supper, she found something weird in the garbage, a mixture of kitchen scraps and animal bones. Simon said he had already eaten.

“Simon, we have to talk,” Amanda said, later that evening. “About this morning.”

“We certainly do,” Simon said. “For one thing, I think you owe me an apology.”

Amanda exploded again. “I owe you an apology! Just what makes you think–”

“You spoke sharply to me this morning. I didn’t like that. Apologize.” He looked at her calmly.

For a moment Amanda stood unmoving, too shocked to speak. Then, to her astonishment, she heard herself say: “Simon, I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you this morning. It was wrong; it was cruel and unfeeling and I’m very, very sorry.” Was she really sorry? Why was she saying this? And why did it feel so incredibly good to say it?

“And you were wrong to object to my suggestions about your clothes.”

She gulped. “Yes. Yes, Simon. I was w-wrong to object when you, uh, suggested that I, um, choose a different outfit. I, uh, I apologize to you for that too.” Her face felt flushed.

Simon smiled again. “Good,” he said. “Excellent. Listen Mom, to save time, don’t bother wearing slacks to work any more, OK? Stick to skirts and dresses, and we’ll work from there. Got that?”

“Yes, Simon,” Amanda said contritely. “Will you excuse me, for a m-moment!” She bolted from the room and hurried upstairs to the privacy of her bedroom. Barely pausing to close the door behind her, she shucked off her clothes and collapsed on the bed. Her pussy was wet, ready and eager to receive her stroking fingers. Her first orgasm overwhelmed her in minutes. The second and third took a little longer.

So, the next morning, and every workday morning after that, Amanda got dressed in a dress or a skirted suit and presented herself for Simon’s inspection before she left for work. Sometimes he was up already, but if not, he insisted that she come into his bedroom and pose for him by his bedside. Quite often he sent her back for a change, always to something shorter, or brighter or less staid. Amanda complied, telling herself that she didn’t have to do the things that Simon said. It was simply the easiest way to keep peace in the house. Her panties were generally wet by the time she got to the office.

Now, standing in her overflowing closet in just her stockings and high-high heels, Amanda contemplated just how much her wardrobe had changed. She glanced at her Mickey Mouse watch, the only watch Simon would let her wear. Almost nine. Simon would be impatient for breakfast soon.

She walked down the rows of sexy clothing, managing her dramatic platform heels with practised ease. Soon after he began vetting her wardrobe, Simon announced that he had a bit of a thing for high heels, and therefore Amanda should wear them as high as possible, as often as possible. She had been in her bedroom, changing after a long day at work, and Simon had just walked right in.

“What are you doing here?” Amanda blazed. “What do you mean by barging into my room like this? Now you just turn around and walk right back–”

“Mother, be quiet,” Simon said, and Amanda lapsed into glowering silence.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “High heels are the most attractive shoes any woman can wear, always have been. They change appearance in some very basic way, you know. I think it sends signals right to the base of a man’s brain. See these” — he held up the pair of functional, low-heeled shoes Amanda had worn to work that day — “these are boring. They’re for tight- assed old spinsters that work in the library and scowl all the time.” He tossed them contemptuously in the direction of a trash bin.

Amanda demurred, “But those shoes cost almost –”

“Then you’ve been wasting money, Mom,” Simon said, interrupting her again. “Man, look at all these dullsville shoes. You have got like a serious image problem, Mother. I think it is time for a major closet purge.” He tossed another pair of shoes, Italian imports that she had bought just last month, into the waste bin.

“Simon, stop that!” Amanda cried. “What are you doing? You c- can’t just throw away my shoes.” She shook her head in confusion. Simon was spouting nonsense, she knew that, but somehow it just seemed so sensible. As soon as he said so.

He turned to face her squarely. “Look, Mother, here is how it is going to be. Since you are obviously too dim to know how a woman should dress, I will have to help you. To start with, I don’t want to see you in any shoes with less than four inches of heel, got that? You can count to four, can’t you?”

Amanda felt the insults like a slap in the face. Her step-son had never spoken to her so rudely before, not even after his return from overseas. She struggled to respond, to shout at him angrily that he couldn’t talk to her that way. Unexpectedly, the feeling of sexual arousal had returned, and stronger than ever. She suppressed a moan as shimmers of pleasure lanced through her. “Simon, please, I-” she stammered.

“Get my approval for any new shoes you buy. Don’t waste your time on anything but hey-heys. Right now, go through this pile of shit and get rid of all the old-fart shoes.”

“But, but I don’t have…”

“Yeah, I know, you have to wear something. Look, for now you can keep the medium heels, just until you get something better.”

“Simon, no,” Amanda said weakly. She didn’t have to do what he said.

“Don’t come down to make supper until the job is finished.” He turned and left the room.

Dejectedly, Amanda surveyed the neat rows of shoes lining the rack in her closet. She didn’t have to do what Simon told her, she decided, setting her jaw. But she was so horny…..

Twenty minutes later Amanda was sprawled across her king-size bed, her dress in a heap on the floor. She was panting and groaning in naked lust as she played with herself, one hand thrusting inside her wet panties, the other tweaking and fondling her hard-nippled breasts. Shoes and sandals filled the wastebasket in one corner, spilling over into a big, multicolored heap on the floor. “Oh god oh god oh god,” Amanda blathered, pumping her fingers desperately, “I’ll buy some more tomorrow!” And that delirious thought was enough to push her over the edge to another blinding orgasm.

Amanda came downstairs eventually. She walked uneasily in the only pair of four-inch heels she owned, simple black pumps she had purchased impulsively one day, but seldom wore.

That changed soon enough. Under Simon’s abusive guidance her nearly empty shoe rack soon filled up again, and then overflowed, with sexy, gaudy, towering heels. Inspecting her footwear became part of Simon’s morning ritual, and he send her tottering off to work each day in a different pair of leg-shaping spikes.

Wearing the new shoes to work wasn’t all that bad, once she got used to them. At least when she was sitting at her desk she could slip them off and enjoy the feel of stocking feet. But evenings were another matter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Simon demanded angrily one afternoon. It was just the second day after the incident in Amanda’s bedroom, and she was breaking in a pair of patent black pumps she had bought the day before.

Amanda looked up at him dully. It had been a long day and her feet hurt. “I, I’m just taking off my shoes. I have to get changed and make din–”

“Mother, you can be unbelievably stupid sometimes,” Simon interrupted her. “Look, airhead, why are you wearing high heels?”

Amanda fumed in anger. How dare he talk to her like that! But with every insult a tidal wave of arousal broke over her, and her concentration wavered. Dear god, abuse from her step-son was such a turn-on!

“Because, because,” she sputtered, “You told me to. I mean, I thought you liked–”

“Exactly, Mother. Because I like them. I like to see you in them. So put your shoes back on, get your lard-ass butt in gear and start working on dinner.”

Amanda groaned. “Yes, yes Simon,” she said quietly. She slipped the high heels back on and made her way upstairs to get out of her work clothes. She would have to change her panties again, too.

Simon insisted that Amanda wear heels all the time, even in the morning when she was getting dressed. He ordered her to buy wobbly, high-heeled mules in place of house slippers — she had half a dozen pairs now — and to put them on the moment she rolled out of bed. She wore them every minute she was in the house, only momentarily slipping them off for a bath or shower.

Well, she didn’t have to wear them, she reminded herself endlessly. She could take them off any time. Really. But the heels somehow seemed appropriate now, and the sexy wiggle in her walk reminded her that she was obeying Simon, which kept her in a near-constant state of arousal.

Now, as she wandered through her closet trying to find some outfit that would comply with Simon’s elaborate rules and still preserve a shred of modesty, Amanda wondered why she had found four-inch heels so difficult. Nowadays, four-inchers were the ones she wore to relax. The open-toed, liquid red slings she was wearing that morning had heels a full inch higher.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the many full- length mirrors that surrounded her bedroom. She was still surprised at the figure that looked back at her: the long blonde hair carefully combed, the sleek, slender figure that could have belonged to a teenager instead of a woman well into the third decade of life. Her nipples were erect, as they usually were. Amanda was proud of her figure, she had to admit. She finally had the fit, toned body she had always dreamed of. Of course, there was a price for keeping it that way; she spent every spare minute at the gymnasium.

It started when Simon started insisting that she show a little more leg. “What is with you and these mud-dragging dresses?” he asked sarcastically one morning. “You look like a fucking nun. Go put on something that doesn’t sweep the floor, all right?”

Amanda looked down at the sharp red skirt, that ended an inch or so above the knee. “This, uh, this is the shortest skirt I have…” she said meekly.

“Unbe-fucking-lievable,” Simon said. “Look, you brainless prude, when will you learn that a woman’s job is to show off her body, not cover it up.” He walked up to her with such energy that for a moment Amanda thought he was going to hit her. Instead, he reached down and roughly grabbed the hem of her skirt. He hiked it up several inches. “Look, this is considered a fashionable skirt length, even by uptight twits like you.” He yanked it higher. “This is a respectable length for work or shopping. And this is the length you should be wearing if you’re proud of your body. It’s the length I like.”

Amanda grabbed a stair rail to keep her balance. “I can’t wear my skirts that short!” she gasped.

“Why not?”

“Because, because, for god’s sake I’m thirty-five years old. I’m an executive. And besides….” her voice trailed off in confusion.

“Besides what, Mother?”

She spoke in a small voice, amazed at her own shyness. “I, I haven’t got the legs for it. M-My thighs are too heavy.” Why did she suddenly feel so inadequate?

Simon smiled without mirth. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

Amanda joined the health club that very afternoon, and spent a good hour getting to know the various exercise machines. She returned home late and exhausted. Simon heaped abuse on her for making him wait for dinner. Later, Amanda collapsed in bed, barely managing to get her clothes off, and fell asleep with her fingers still in her creaming pussy.

Amanda exercised relentlessly now, every single day, and weekends too. Amanda spent so much time at the gym that some of the regulars assumed she worked there. After a while she joined a second health club just to cover her embarrassment in spending so much time working out. Eventually she bought a bunch of home gym equipment. She found herself using it too with the fanatical devotion that Simon demanded.

There were rules of course. Simon had a fit when he saw Amanda in her track suit and made her throw the whole thing away right then and there. He ordered her to get herself some “proper” exercise clothes, bra tops and short shorts and tights and leotards, not just a few but a suitcase full, so she could wear a different skimpy outfit every day. Top of the line shoes too, always carefully color-matched to whatever shape-defining outfit she was wearing that day. She kept her high heels nearby. Simon said she had to put them back on again the instant she finished, even just to walk the few steps to the bathroom for a shower.

Aerobics pretty much pushed aside any other hobbies and interests Amanda had. Even reading the newspaper. She had enjoyed fussing about in the garden for years, but when she mentioned it Simon just laughed and said she could hardly dig up weeds in a miniskirt and high heels, could she. So a professional gardening service did the yard now. The young men gawked in the windows to try to catch a glimpse of Amanda. Simon said she must never close the curtains.

Simon said that only miniskirts were suitable attire, but he relented somewhat and allowed her to wear them only four inches above the knee to the office. At home, however, he insisted on breathtaking brevity, especially as the relentless exercise toned up Amanda’s muscles and slimmed her thighs. Simon liked bright, tight, feminine clothing. Amanda found her shopping expeditions broadening to include trendy, youth-oriented shops she had never frequented before. She had to pack away more and more of her old clothes to make room for her ever-expanding wardrobe. It was costing more than a little, but nothing Amanda’s salary couldn’t handle.

Amanda attempted from time to time to come to grips with her situation. She still couldn’t figure out why she kept doing what Simon told her. The thickening fog of sexual arousal that enveloped her made rational thought increasingly difficult. The workday was tolerable, so long as she remembered to keep a supply of fresh panties in the office. She began masturbating in the washroom a couple of times each day. Weekends, on the other hand, were spent in a kind of horny, stupefied daze. Amanda tried desperately to retain some fragment of her dignity and self-control while Simon ordered her about or heaped scorn on her back.

Amanda regarded her svelte figure in the mirror and resisted, with some difficulty, the urge to play with herself. She was wearing thigh-high stay-ups, her usual legwear these days. The stockings were shiny white, with a red seam up the back that matched her high-heeled sandals. Simon said she had to wear stockings, no bare legs, and pantyhose were just too much of a nuisance when she spent so much time with her fingers under her skirts. She had to buy the stay-ups hip-high, or risk flashing her stocking tops every time she bent over.

Still watching her reflection, Amanda pursed her full lips, red with lipstick, shaping her mouth into a protruding oval. She sucked on one finger for a moment. She knew what she really needed.

Amanda’s new style had not gone unnoticed at the office, and many an approving look was cast her way as she strode down the hallways in her brief, clinging suits and sky-high heels. The male attention only raised Amanda’s sexual thermostat a little further. She still managed to get her work done, but the irresistible arousal from obeying Simon’s commands guaranteed that sex was always on her mind. More than once Amanda found herself responding warmly, even flirting, with male co-workers that eyed her so thirstily. She knew she must be radiating sexual signals like a bitch in heat.

But nobody turned her on quite as much as her own step-son.

She was in particularly rough shape that Friday afternoon as she stepped off the bus a few blocks from home. She took the bus to work now. Her BMW was reserved for Simon’s use. It was still Amanda’s job to wash it every day and to wax it every weekend. She wore a bikini and high heels while she worked on the car.

Amanda’s heels clicked against the sidewalk. She was wearing a sleeveless white minidress, more suited to a night at the club than the executive boardroom. The shiny white pumps with the ankle straps and five-inch heels accentuated her shapely, nylon- gilt legs. She wore a raspberry red bolero jacket with the dress, drawn closed with three gold chains. The jacket added a bare touch of modesty to the low-scooped neckline of her dress. Simon had sent her back to her room to put on a push-up bra. I don’t have to do that, she told herself, even as she tottered back upstairs.

She had been horny by the time she left the house that morning, and it seemed like men had been staring at her all day long. To make matters worse, she had had to make a presentation that day. Though her data were impeccable, it was obvious that the men in the room were far more interested in her legs than her sales projections. By the time she stepped gingerly off the bus, ignoring the bus driver’s happy stare, she was beside herself. Though she had changed them more than once, her panties were wet again.

Simon was waiting for her when she got in the door. “About time you got here, you little tart,” he pronounced. “Why so late? Been out showing off on the streets?”

As usual, Simon’s abuse hit her like a drug. “Ohhhhhh. N-No, please, Simon, nothing like that. I, I just missed my first bus, that’s all. Spent too long at the gym.” She dropped her briefcase and white purse on the floor.

“I bet,” he sneered. “Mom you are such a little bimbo. A sugar tart, that’s you. Look at that dress. I bet you enjoyed giving the guys an eyeful all day. Is that how you keep your job? Doesn’t seem to me you have the brains for it.”

Electric bolts of sexual need shot through Amanda. Groaning, she collapsed against the wall, losing her balance on her tall heels. “Please, Simon, honey, stop this. I, I’m oh god I’m so hot!” She ran her hands down her tight dress, clinging weakly to self- control.

“Just how do you keep your job, Mother? It’s got to be with that bod of yours, isn’t it. Little airhead sexpot like you can’t possibly be executive material. Shit, I even have to tell you what to wear in the morning. Even then you barely get it right.”

“Simmmonnnn, Please, stop it.” Amanda wailed, her face flushed. She was clenching her fists and grinding her thighs together.

“Face it Mother, you’re just a sex machine. A dick receptacle. Do you give good blow jobs, Mom? Is that how you keep your job? I bet you suck cock like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Simon, No, no n-ooh, ooooh” Amanda groaned, helpless with desire. She felt like her body was on fire. Her eyes rolled backwards and she slid down the wall, collapsing in a quivering heap at her step-son’s feet.

“Jezuz, Mom,” he said, “You are the most over-sexed, cock-hungry bimbo I’ve ever met. Hey, you’re so hungry for a dick to suck, why don’t you come here and suck on mine.” He took a step forward and stopped in front of her, spreading his legs into a domineering stance. He unzipped his black jeans and fished out his semi-erect penis, dangling it before his dazed step-mother like a lure.

Amanda looked up at him, drunk with desire. “Simon, oh, Simon no, I, I can’t,” she whimpered. Still, she stared at his exposed dick, her vision blurry, and felt herself moving. She climbed up onto her knees and half fell toward him, bracing herself on his legs. She felt insane with need, ready to suck off the boy she had raised since he was five years old. “Oh god Simon!” she gasped.

Her step-son smiled down on her. “Go ahead Mom. You know you want it.”

Amanda made a tiny sound deep in her throat. She took his cock tenderly in one hand, raising it toward her waiting lips. “Uhmmmmmmm,” she murmured as she sucked him deep into her mouth.

She sucked him earnestly, bobbing her head up and down on his rapidly hardening shaft, using one or sometimes both hands to caress and hold him. Blissful waves of pleasure washed over her, brushing aside guilt and shame and righteousness like so many dead leaves. She forgot everything else except the exquisite feel of her step-son’s member in her mouth. She used her tongue, her lips, her hands. She poured herself over him, grunting and slurping noisily.

Simon was so pleased with his step-mother’s efforts he almost forgot to insult her. “Yes, Mother, yes, like that! God, that is great, suck me you little airhead sexpot whore! Suck me. Yesss! Harder. Harder, you sex-crazy tramp!” The litany of imprecations only stimulated Amanda further, and a few moments later she felt Simon stiffen, and he came jerkily into her mouth, while Amanda sucked and swallowed and writhed in unbridled ecstasy.

Blow-jobs became a regular part of the household routine then. Amanda generally gave him a quickie before she left for work in the morning and another when she came home at night. On weekends she blew him three or four times every day. His appetite seemed insatiable, and after the first time Amanda forgot to even try to resist. When they were home together, Simon would walk up to her any time and simply open his zipper. Whatever she was doing, Amanda would stop and give him head right then and there, even if she was on the telephone or cooking dinner.

The blowjobs left Amanda panting, exhausted, and wanting more. Simon didn’t use his step-mother for ordinary sex, however, though he surely knew she would let him fuck her in any way imaginable. That task fell to a growing line of beautiful, obedient girlfriends that fawned all over Simon and marvelled when his step-mother served them breakfast in bed.

Standing in the bulging walk-in closet of her bedroom, Amanda turned her mind away from the memories. If she didn’t keep her thoughts focused she would never get dressed in time. At length she chose a tight-fitting red tube top and a tiny silver miniskirt, a bright, wrap-around thing barely more than a foot long. She seldom wore a bra on weekends. She stepped out of her dressing shoes, and after careful consideration decided on the lace-up red boots with the superthick white soles.

She didn’t have to dress this way, she reminded herself, as she tightened up the slick, high-heeled boots. But Simon said he liked platform boots, the gaudier the better, and…. oh god. Amanda moaned with lust as she stumbled out of the closet into her bedroom. She caught sight of herself in the half dozen full length mirrors Simon had insisted she hang around her room. She looked delectable; she could easily pass for ten years younger than her actual age. She was dressed the way Simon said, showing lots and lots of leg and advertising her tits; her make-up was done the way Simon said to do it; her hair was growing long the way Simon said to wear it. Everything was just the way Simon said, and the sexual heat Amanda felt was too much to bear.

Standing in the deeply carpeted room, surrounded by mirrors, she pulled up her micro-skirt, pulled down her damp panties and began to finger herself furiously. Thrills of delight pulsed through her. “Oh god oh god oh god, I’m so fucking HOT!” she cried, breathing hard. Her body trembled. Beads of perspiration formed on her perfect brow. “Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!” she grunted, her hand a blur beneath her panties.

But yet she could not come. Not quite. Not yet. She needed something more, one more stimulus to push her over the edge into the abyss of pleasure.

“Hey, Mom!” came Simon’s voice from downstairs. “Get your lazy sexpot wiggle-ass down here and make breakfast! I haven’t got all day you fucked-up, brainless, cock-sucking bimbo!”

“I’m coming dear!” Amanda shouted. “I’m COMMMMMMING!”

She collapsed, weak-kneed, on the plush carpet as her climax consumed her.

END

- The Sinner
thesinner@bad-candy.com
http://www.asstr.org/~sinner/∞

SimFolks
Psychology 101 Section D (Dr. Samuels)

Semester Project Journal

Nadine Murphy
Monday 9/25 8:13 PM

paper back in class today, he’d written “I like it! Creative

thinking!” across the top in big red letters. I don’t think I’ve ever

gotten that positive a response from a teacher before. This is

exciting! If this goes as well as I think I’ll probably decide to

major in psychology.

which I’ll be recording my findings. Of course, Dr. Samuels told us

clearly in class today that this was not a diary; we were only

supposed to be recording our project results. So technically, this

whole paragraph shouldn’t be here. But that’s the beauty of

computers; I’ll just edit this out at the end of the semester before I

turn it in. In the meantime I’ll write whatever I damn well please.
My semester-long project for Psychology 101 is an investigation

of the state of the art in computer simulation of human psychology.

I’ll be using a program called SimFolks, which will allow me to create

a number of simulated characters and watch them interact in a

simulated real-world setting.

a COMPUTER GAME! This has to be one of the greatest coups of all

time! I wonder how jealous all the boys in the class would be if they

knew that a _girl_ was going to be playing a computer game all

semester and getting credit for it. Don’t they wish they could do a

semester project on one of their macho bullshit games like Quake or

something. Ha!

married couple. The husband, Bob, is a stockbroker. He’s about

thirty, tall and dark-haired. His wife Cindy is a pretty brunette who

works as a schoolteacher. I’ve built them a nice little house in the

suburbs, complete with a white picket fence. To top it all off, they

have a pair of kids: a six-year old boy, Robert, Jr.; and a

three-year-old girl, Julie.

Maybe. Okay, I'll admit it's my dream to have a nice house in the

suburbs with a handsome, rich husband and a pair of kids. But so

what? I still want to have a career. Okay, I admit that

schoolteacher is a bit on the traditional side, but it's still a

perfectly honorable way to make a living, isn't it?]

it's not like it's important anyway; the point is to examine the

psychology of these people as a family; it doesn't matter where they

spend their workdays. I'm not Cindy, and I think I have a pretty good

grip on that concept.]

people seem to require a fair bit of attention. I’d hoped when I

first started this that they’d take care of their various needs on

their own, but that turns out not to be the case. I have to tell them

how to do almost every damn little thing. I have to tell them when to

eat, when to sleep, when to go to the bathroom (and damn, it isn’t

pretty when you forget that one.) I realize now I should have started

off with just a single character rather than a family of four, but

I’m not giving up on these people now; I’ve got too much time invested

in them already.

I had to get them dressed in the morning — Bob in a jacket and tie

and Cindy in a power suit. The kids were easier; T-shirts and shorts.

I tried to have Cindy cook breakfast, but it was a disaster; burnt

toast and runny eggs. So I had her throw it all out and I fed them

these instant-meal things that were in the fridge. Everyone ate, and

the two car-pools and the school bus arrived simultaneously.

hectic as I tried to get them to eat dinner. I forgot to send little

Bobby to the bathroom at the right time, and was rewarded with a nice

puddle on the floor. When I finally got that cleaned up that and the

everyone fed, it was already bedtime. I put the family to bed, saved

the game, and shut it down. I don’t have the energy to do another day

tonight. I’ll give it a run tomorrow.
Monday 10/2 7:55 PM

it was for me to be living alone in an off-campus apartment. Nothing

new; we’ve only had this argument about a dozen times. I told them

again that I’m nineteen years old, I’m a sophomore in college, and I’m

perfectly capable of taking care of myself. First, of course, they

asked me to move back into the dorms. I explained again (very

patiently, I thought) that I was sick and tired of living in a

closet-sized room with another person, and that I’d gotten quite

enough of dorm life during my freshman year. Then they came back to

the old why-don’t-you-live-with-a- roommate line of questioning.

There I was on shakier ground. I told them that I really preferred to

live alone and have my evenings to myself so I could study

undisturbed. I tried to emphasize that last bit.

real reason’s name is Brad. We met last spring in sociology class

and… well, let’s just say we got very friendly. He’s an absolute

dream — handsome, intelligent, strong. He’s majoring in Economics,

so he’ll probably also end up being very rich. That’s not why I’m

attracted to him, of course, but still, it makes it very easy to see

myself married to him.

approve of him. He’s clean-cut, well-mannered, and very pleasant to

be around. It’s just that if they knew about him, they might begin to

suspect that he’s the reason I’m living alone. Which is, of course,

the case. Speaking of which, he’s coming over at nine, so if I want

to get this journal caught up to date tonight I’d better do it now.

been spending all my project time just trying to get the knack of

caring for the sims. But I think I’ve got it. I can now have the

family prepare a meal, get dressed, and get to the potty on time.

I’ve been efficient enough to work in some family activities, too –

some conversations, some playing with the kids, and some TV viewing.

to bed and had them make love. It was actually quite nice. They got

undressed and crawled into bed. I didn’t get to watch the actual act,

though; it was obscured by a large pink heart that rolled slowly back

and forth over the bed. I guess the game had to keep a PG rating.

to close this entry now.
Wednesday 10/11 11:14 PM

family this evening. The whole thing has become kind of boring. I’ve

added in some neighbors and had the family socialize with them. That

relieves the monotony somewhat, but it’s still basically just the same

thing every day — they wake up, go to work, come home, eat, relieve

themselves and talk, and occasionally Cindy and Bob have sex. But

that’s it. That’s the extent of their computer-generated lives.

become a fashion model. Sounds weird, huh? Well, yeah, that’s what I

always wanted to be when I was growing up. And I’ve been told I have

the looks for it, too. I even did a few jobs in high school for

advertisements and things. But my family was more interested in me

going to college and getting an education, so I gave it up. I guess I

figured Cindy should have the life I never got to live.

dinner, of course), my computer just froze. Everything just sat

there, the family in the middle of the meal. I couldn’t fucking

believe it. And I’d just spent two hours babysitting them through

another day. Rebooting the machine would have erased all that and

screwed my project up royally. I tried everything I could think of,

but the game stayed frozen and I couldn’t get back to Windows. So I

did the only thing I could think of: I went to ask Irwin for help.

the very end of the hall, where it takes a sharp turn, so our doors

are out of sight from the main hall. It’s more like a little alcove,

really. I think our apartments used to be one big apartment, but they

got chopped apart at some point. Anyway, Irwin is this nebbishy guy

who looks like he’s somewhere between thirty and forty. Thick

glasses. He’s kind of creepy, really. Before tonight I’d never

spoken to him aside from a polite hello in the hallway; I only knew

his name from his mailbox. But I knew he was into computers, and I

was desperate, so I went and knocked on his door.

in this really disturbing way. I get a lot of looks from guys (I told

you I have the looks for modeling), and frankly, in most cases I like

it. But this was more than a little disturbing. I fought through it,

though, and asked him to come over and look at my computer.

back out to Windows, where he brought up a few menus, all the time

muttering “Stupid piece of Microsoft crap” and stabbing intently at

the keyboard. But it wasn’t long before the game popped up and

started running again, with the family still in the middle of dinner.

several hours of drudgery I would have had to spend re-living an

entire day of sim-life. Unfortunately, he took my thanks as a license

to start talking about anything he wanted. He’s a system

administrator for a local ISP and he sees that sort of problem all the

time, blah blah blah, and I really should learn to use Linux and yadda

yadda yadda. Still, I thought it would be rude to shove him off after

he’d helped me, so I sat there and listened, nodding politely from

time to time.

enraptured by the game, and started asking me all sorts of questions

about it. Apparently he’d never seen it. Made no sense to me; I knew

more than a few people who’ve played SimFolks, and none of my friends

are really all that into computers, so I figured a hardcore geek like

him would certainly have heard of the game. But he hadn’t, so I sat

down and patiently explained it to him. He kept peppering me with

questions, so I showed him how everything works, and explained how I’m

doing a psychology project with it.

didn’t really want him to, I thought it would be rude to refuse.

Anyway, I wanted to stay on his good side in case I needed his help

again. So I played through the rest of the day, answering his

occasional questions about the game and my characters. One nice side

effect of him being so interested in the game was that he was no

longer staring at me in that creepy way.

with very little fuss. It was quite a relief; I’d expected him to try

to hang around longer and bore me with his computer knowledge.

called this evening. Thankfully they had nothing to say about my

living arrangements this time, but they did tell me that they were

running low on cash and that they might not be able to provide me with

spending money this semester. My little sister Tiffany has already

had to get a job to earn her own spending money, and my parents are

asking me to do the same. I feel sorry for Tiff, because I would have

hated to have to spend ten hours a week working during _my_ senior

year of high school. I feel even worse for myself because I really

don’t want to spend any less time with Brad. Looks like it’ll have to

be that way, though. I hope he understands.

alone.
Thursday 10/12 5:30 PM

building this morning to get to class and bumped into him as he was

coming in. He smiled when he saw me. “Look what I just got, Nadine!”

he grinned, holding up a plastic bag from the local computer store.

Inside I could see a SimFolks box.

thumbs-up sign and said “Ah, SimFolks. Don’t get addicted!” He

laughed, making sort of an insane cackling sound as I walked off. I

gave him a wave, just in the spirit of being friendly, trying not to

let my face show that I thought he was a nut job. Who the hell goes

shopping at nine in the morning?
Thursday 10/19 11:08 PM

ready for bed. He looked worn-out, but he seemed really excited. He

started talking about how he could link my computer up to his network.

Yes, apparently this guy has not just one computer, but an actual

network in his apartment. What a geek. Anyway, he started babbling

on about how it would just be a matter of drilling a hole in the wall

between our apartments and putting a network card in my computer,

which he had lying around anyway, and blah blah blah.

hurry the conversation up by asking him what the point of all that

would be. He started going on about how I could always have Internet

access without tying up my phone line. That didn’t sound like a bad

idea, but hardly exciting enough to be worth allowing him to do

God-knows-what with my computer. I started trying to explain this to

him, but he kept going on. I was really just about on the verge of

kicking him out, politeness be damned, when he mentioned that

networking our computers would also allow our SimFolks to interact

with each other.

keeping up my interest in Bob and Cindy these last few weeks. It’s

like their lives are just one big continuous loop — the same thing

every day, with only minor variations. Sure, they occasionally visit

friends, and sometimes they go for a picnic or something, but nothing

really _new_ happens. As an experiment in psychology it’s staring to

look like a dud.

Maybe the problem is that I’m the only person creating characters for

my family to interact with. Maybe Irwin’s characters will be

different and provide a spark of newness that I’m not getting. Yeah,

I admit I’m a little nervous about this. Given what a weirdo he is,

it’s entirely possible that all his characters are psycho or

something. I don’t know if one character can kill another, but if

it’s possible for a player to make a deranged serial-killer character,

Irwin is the guy who can do it.

flop. So I told Irwin sure, no problem, you can do it, but not

tonight. He thanked me and told me I wouldn’t regret it. Right,

whatever.
Tuesday 10/24 9:45 PM

computer last night. He came over with a drill and put a small hole

in the corner behind my computer. I’m a little nervous about that; I

don’t think the super would approve. But Irwin seems to know what

he’s doing, so I decided to let him do it.

and being the polite, charming guy that he is, Brad shook Irwin’s

hand. Irwin, on the other hand, seemed less than warm toward Brad,

looking him up and down in an almost confrontational manner. I was a

little worried, but Brad’s not the type to pick a fight, so everything

was okay. I suppose Irwin must have a bit of a crush on me. Ah, such

is life. Nothing that hasn’t happened to me before.

cuddling while Irwin opened my computer up and installed the network

stuff. After that, he booted the machine, installed some software

from a few CD-ROMs and told me I was all hooked up. I thanked him again

as he started explaining how I could check my email now and how to

access his SimFolks files. He told me I had to leave the computer on

all the time now, which is okay with me since electricity is included

in my rent anyway.

stuff like bandwidth and ping times, and I didn’t understand or care

about any of it. I tried to listen and be polite, but I really just

wanted to get him out of there so I could spend time with Brad. I

think I was a bit rude when I finally told him to leave. He clammed

right up and stormed out. I felt immediately guilty, but I didn’t

bother going to apologize to him right then. I really just wanted to

spend some time with Brad. And I did. It was very good, not that

that’s any of your business.

midterm. I don’t have time to do a SimFolks run tonight, and I’m

definitely too tired to go apologize to Irwin right now. I’ll do it

tomorrow. And while I’m taking to him, maybe I can ask him what’s

going on with my monitor. It’s just recently started looking

different. The image sort of flickers a bit. It’s tough to put a

finger on what exactly is different about it, but there’s definitely

something going on. It’s giving me a bit of a headache. Well, it’s

time for bed, anyway.
Wednesday 10/25 8:18 PM

it isn’t giving me much of a headache tonight, so I’ll postpone asking

Irwin about it.

computer. Cindy and Bob got a babysitter for the kids and went to

visit Maria and Steve, a couple of Irwin’s sims. Maria and Steve

turned out to be a surprisingly normal couple. They had no children,

but they did have a nice house in the suburbs, similar to Bob and

Cindy’s. I watched with interest as the couples began talking.

minutes they paired off by gender, with Bob and Steve going to the

garage to talk, and Cindy and Maria wandering into the kitchen. This

was interesting: Gender-based social pairing. I took some notes on a

paper scratch pad; I’ll transcribe them here when I get a chance. For

the first time, I really felt like the project was going somewhere.

of Steve and Maria’s. I’ve never seen anything like it before. A sim

isn’t supposed to just show up on his own, at least not according to

the manual he isn’t. But there he was, just showing up in his car at

Steve and Maria’s house. So I played along and watched as Ed walked

into the house and joined the ladies in the kitchen.

actually use words to speak, they just sort of make speech-like

sounds. But you can tell what sort of mood they’re in just by

listening to the tone of their voices. And Ed sounded like a real

sleaze. He had sort of an overly syrupy attitude, as though he was

trying to charm the ladies out of their pants. Maria and Cindy seemed

amused by his antics; laughing occasionally. A subordinate male

trying to get some action and being rejected by the females.

showing Bob his power tools, which looked to me like a classic case of

one male trying to assert his superiority over the other. I watched

the posturing and listened to the tones of their voices as they

talked. Bob seemed impressed with Steve’s tools but unwilling to

fully submit. Interesting.

kitchen. Maria had left, presumably to go to the bathroom or

something. Cindy and Ed were still there, and they were kissing! I

haven’t figured out how the hell that happened! Sims are definitely

not supposed to engage in romantic behavior unless directed to by the

user. But there it was, plain as day. They were kissing pretty hard,

and Cindy was rubbing her body lewdly against Ed.

living room and wait. I pulled Bob out to the living room as well,

and once they were both there, I took them straight home and put them

to bed. After that, I shut down the machine.

married woman, and yet she just threw herself at some random

slimeball, even hough her husband was only a couple of rooms away.

Unbelievable. I suppose it’s possible Irwin could have programmed it

that way, although I have no idea how. Another thing I’ll have to ask

him about.

going back to see Steve and Maria again, that’s for sure. Not if they

allow a homewrecker like Ed into their house. Cindy’s a married woman

and I like it that way.
Friday 10/27 11:21 PM

Bob and Cindy, that goddamn cretin Ed shows up.

whole family over to visit George and Tina, another married sim couple

of Irwin’s creation. Just like Steve and Maria, they seemed like a

nice, normal couple. They even have two kids, just like Bob and

Cindy, and I thought it would be fun for all four kids to play

together.

minutes before Ed appeared. I was watching Bob and George playing

with the kids in the backyard, pushing them on the little swing-set and

giving them horsey rides. I went back to the kitchen to watch the

ladies preparing dinner, and what do I find? Tina’s nowhere to be

seen, and Cindy and Ed are in a closet making out! I don’t believe

this shit. In a closet! I didn’t even know Ed was in the house.

There was no announcement of his arrival; he just appeared.

and George seemed unhappy that they were leaving so soon, and Bob and

Cindy weren’t really thrilled either (especially Cindy!) but I had no

intention of letting things go any further between Cindy and Ed.

old widow with a nice house of her own. I figured Mabel was probably

the least likely of any of the sims to be friends with Ed. But no

dice. Fifteen minutes into the visit, Bob and Mabel went out front so

he could take a look at her car. I watched them for a few minutes and

when I went back to Cindy, she was lying on the living room couch,

necking with Ed! I pulled the plug on that visit quickly.

pair of female roommates in an apartment building, and once going to

visit a single man in the suburbs. Both times, Ed made unannounced

entrances, although I was alert enough that I was able to call off

both visits before Ed and Cindy started getting it on. Tomorrow I am

definitely going to go ask Irwin what the hell Ed is doing trying to

wreck my family.

old modeling portfolio out of my closet and took it to a local agency

today. The director of the agency was quite interested, and said he

had some upcoming jobs he thought I would be perfect for. Mom and Dad

wouldn’t approve of me getting back into modeling, but it’s the

easiest way for me to earn spending money. I’ll have to tell them I

found some other job to explain all this. Anyway, the director said

he’d get back to me by email next week about what’s available. I’m

actually looking forward to modeling again, even if only a little bit

in between my studies.
Monday, 10/30 6:44 PM

right track. No success, and I’ve got a mild case of eye strain from

staring at that monitor so long. That weird flickering effect is

driving me nuts.

weekend to sit in front of my computer. I suppose he has a point, but

I really need to get this project back on track. I’ll have to make it

up to him next weekend. The problem is that Cindy is completely hung

up on Ed.

I’ve stopped having them visit Irwin’s sims. Irwin’s sims are all

friends of Ed, and I don’t want Cindy seeing him ever again. She’s

unresponsive to the kids, she has no interest in cooking or cleaning

the house, and I wasn’t been able to get her to have sex with Bob all

weekend. Whenever she has a free moment, a little thought bubble pops

up next to her head with a picture of Ed in it. Hell, her job

performance has suffered as well, and the modeling agency has

threatened to lay her off.

she doesn’t clean up her act soon, I’ll just have to cut her loose and

find a new wife for Bob.
Wednesday, 11/1 1:35 AM

time with no change in Cindy’s behavior. I was crying by the end of

the third day. I never really thought I cared that much about one of

these computer-screen characters. But I just couldn’t stand to see

Cindy so miserable. So I started another day and took Cindy to see

Ed. Alone.

the city. The place was a mess, frankly; it was clear that Ed never

put any energy into housekeeping. Little piles of simulated trash lay

strewn about the apartment, and the sink was filled with dirty

dishes. Ed was an obvious slob.

the little slut rushed into his arms and started kissing him. It

wasn’t long before they went back to Ed’s bedroom to screw. And screw

they did. Three times, no less. The weird thing was that I actually

got to watch it. When Cindy used to have sex with her husband, the

whole thing was sanitized to a PG level by that giant heart that

obscured them. But Cindy and Ed did it in full view of the camera.

Of course, they did it under the covers, so I still couldn’t see

anything naughty. Maybe there’s a menu setting I accidentally

switched somewhere in the game that now allows me to watch. Whatever.

fucking she’d be useful to her family again. She was — she made

dinner and did some cleaning — but she wasn’t incredibly cheerful

about it. Still, I was happy just to be getting any amount of work

out of her.

going over to ask — no, to demand — that Irwin fix Cindy. It’s his

fault that she got so hung up on Ed. I know he’s responsible, and

damn it, he’s going to fix it.
Thursday, 11/2 9:34 PM

is the only part of the house that I saw, he has no less than four

computers in various states of assembly. Random computer components,

miscellaneous electronic devices, CDs, disks, and manuals were strewn

across the tables and floor. On top of that were an assortment of

dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes. It was disgusting. Filthy and

disgusting.

to a small couch, the only object in the room not covered in some form

of junk. I was uncomfortable sitting on it, and even less comfortable

when Irwin sat down right beside me, his knee almost touching mine. I

could smell potato chips and beer on his breath. The odor was

revolting.

demanded that he break them up for me. I made it clear that it was

very important for my project that Cindy remain happily married to

Bob, and that Ed was threatening that. Since Ed was his sim, I told

him, it was only reasonable that he fix the problem for me.

situation. I have to give him credit for that. Unfortunately,

though, he told me there was nothing he could do. He started going on

about how the program worked, about chaotic systems and emergent

behavior and all.

systems work, it’s very difficult to modify them once they’ve

accumulated enough different behaviors to form a personality. Every

bit of their programming is linked to every other bit, and if you or I

were to try to change that now, it would only cause the equivalent of

brain damage. You can’t just reach in and change a sim’s mind any

more than you could reprogram a human being.”

falling to pieces around me. Cindy would persist in her infatuation

with Ed. Due to her inattention, the family would suffer. Bob would

become unhappy and the kids would miss their mommy as she spent more

and more time having trysts with Ed.

isn’t what you wanted to happen, but you have to accept that people

aren’t always going to behave the way you expect them to. Why don’t

you just try to make the best of it? Can’t you still do a good

psychology paper on your sims? Maybe something about the effects an

affair has on a marriage?”

seems like the best thing I can do, given the circumstances. I need a

project. Cindy is a slut. There’s nothing I can do about either of

those things. I really have no choice but to do what Irwin suggested,

and focus my study on Cindy’s affair with Ed.

out of that filthy, disgusting apartment and away from that stinky,

slimy greaseball. That’s all that happened tonight.
Friday 11/3 1:34 PM

also kissed Irwin.

think he’s a really disgusting, filthy guy. But he was being so

helpful about my project and telling me how I could salvage it. And I

guess I was kind of emotionally vulnerable. And when I looked at him

on the couch, he just seemed different somehow. Less repulsive. His

unkempt hair and smelly breath seemed almost charming. “Intriguing”

would be a good word, I guess.

him a kiss on the cheek. Just a friendly little peck. But I lingered

a bit too long. And then I shifted a little and gave him a kiss on

the lips. I don’t know why, I guess I just got carried away in the

emotions of the moment.

kiss to being a _kiss_, with tongues and all. I guess in a way I was

scared that I was doing this, but it just felt so damn _good_ to be

kissing him.

air. Then I sort of snapped out of it and realized what I’d done and

ran out of his apartment and back home. I guess last night I just

wanted to pretend it never happened.

classes today trying to cope with this. Tonight I have to go tell

Irwin that I made a mistake, and explain to him that I can only be

friends with him.
Tuesday 11/7 9:45 PM

of kissing Irwin last week and reignite our romance. It didn’t really

work, though. We went to the beach for the weekend, but I didn’t

enjoy myself, and because of that I don’t think Brad did either. I

just couldn’t stop thinking about Irwin. I don’t think I have

feelings for him, but I have to admit now that I do find him a bit

attractive. A little sexy, even. But I don’t feel about him the way

I feel about Brad. Or the way I used to feel about Brad. Oh Christ,

I don’t know.

about what I’ll do. But I’ll have to talk to him soon, to tell him

that I can’t do that with him again. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.

started having her make daily visits to her lover. It’s the only way

to keep her happy. Besides, if my project is going to focus on her

affair with Ed, then I have to encourage the affair, don’t I? At

least Cindy seems happy now, and I’m certainly glad that she’s happy.

pulled up Cindy’s vital statistics. I was curious to see if her

personality had changed as a result of all this. What caught my eye

immediately, though, was the space giving her occupation. Cindy, it

seems, is no longer a fashion model. She’s now an “adult magazine

model”.

able to change her career by herself. That’s supposed to be under the

control of the user. Of course, characters aren’t supposed to be able

to show up at someone’s home without the user bringing them in, but

that’s exactly how Ed had wormed his way into Cindy’s pants, so at

this point I’m a bit skeptical of what the manual says can and can’t

be done.

affair with a seedy guy, is now posing nude for Playboy or some such.

I’ve been thinking about changing her career back to fashion model, or

even back to schoolteacher. But I don’t think that’s smart. If I’m

going to study Cindy’s psychology, I have to let her make her own

decisions. If Cindy wants to be a slut, I’m going to let her be a

slut.

came back to the main view from looking at Cindy’s vital stats, I

found that Cindy and Ed were engaged in a new activity. To put it

bluntly, Cindy was giving Ed a blowjob.

Given her whorish behavior so far, fellating Ed hardly seems out of

place. What is surprising, though, is that the program actually

allows the characters to participate in oral sex. Even more

surprising is that it gets displayed right there on the screen for me

to watch.

them already seem like a long time ago) their actions were always

obscured by a large cartoonish heart. Even Cindy’s previous sexual

activity with Ed took place under the bed covers, so the details

weren’t really visible.

I’ve never used my mouth on a guy, not even Brad. But on the other

hand, I felt this sort of weird fascination as I watched Cindy’s head

bobbing up and down on Ed’s prick. It was the fascinated hand that

used the mouse and keyboard to zoom in on the action.

up and down Ed’s pixellized-but-still-impressive cock, her hair

bouncing back and forth with her movements. The happy look on Ed’s

face, his grin getting wider and wider until…

shocked. I realized I’d been holding my breath, and sucked in great

gasps of air, still trying to comprehend what I’d just seen. I’m not

a prude, but _that_ was really uncalled for. It took me almost a

minute to gather my wits and look at the screen again.

Cindy was cuddled next to him. Since all sexual activity appeared to

have ceased, I took Cindy home, put her to bed with Bob, tucked in the

kids, and shut down the program. It was a few minutes before I

realized my panties were wet.

Wednesday 11/8 11:58 PM

last week and explain that it couldn’t happen again. Things didn’t go

exactly as planned.

stammering like a schoolgirl with her first crush. He interrupted me

halfway through and suggested we sit down. He led me to the couch

where we’d first kissed. I was worried about the familiarity of the

situation weakening the point I was trying to get across, but I was

also grateful for the chance to compose my thoughts.

His eyes locked with mine, and I just couldn’t remember what I’d been

trying to say. He still looked slimy, but somehow underneath it all

he radiated sex.

my hands all over his body. He responded eagerly and we just sat

there necking for a few minutes. Finally, I was able to pull myself

away long enough to say three words: “I need you.”

Most of the bedroom was just as trash-littered as the rest of the

house, but the bed was at least clear of any obstacles, even if the

sheets were yellowed and unmade.

struggling to remove each other’s clothing. His breath stunk, and yet

it was the sweetest thing I’d ever smelled. I pulled his jeans down,

allowing his erect member to spring free. I think I was a little

afraid that in his eagerness he’d hurt me, but I needed him inside me

so badly I didn’t really care. And like a flash, my skirt was bunched

up around my waist, my panties had been ripped off — I really can’t

recall which of us was responsible for that — and Irwin’s cock was

inside me. It was incredible. Simply incredible.

so great. I’ve had sex with three guys in my life — my high school

prom date, a stupid one-night stand last fall, and then of course

Brad. Irwin was way better than any of these. And it seems strange

that I enjoyed it so much. Unlike my other lovers, he actually paid

almost no attention to my needs. No foreplay, no caressing, no

stroking. It was like he didn’t care what I wanted; he was only

interested in getting his own rocks off. It was just this raw animal

sex.

Irwin than I ever have with Brad. Somehow Irwin’s naked, uncaring

lust got me just incredibly turned on. It’s never been like that

before.

next-door neighbor was a far more intense experience than anything

I’ve ever done with my soulmate. What am I going to do? Logically, I

have to be faithful to Brad and put tonight behind me. But my God,

can I turn my back on the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced?

tonight, and I had to pretend I was sick. Even then, he still wanted

to come over and take care of me. It was difficult to get rid of him,

but I managed it. I just can’t deal with seeing him tonight after

what I did with Brad.

Thursday 11/16 1:09 AM

she got home from work today, I took her into the bedroom as usual to

get her out of her business suit and into something more comfortable

for her fuck with Ed.

top and a matching micro-mini skirt. The slut! The skirt was barely

long enough to cover her ass, and the top certainly hid very little of

her tits. I suppose I could say I was surprised she even owned this

outfit, since the program is supposed to give the user complete

control over what the sims buy, but I’ve long since abandoned the

notion that I have any control at all over what Cindy does. At this

point, I’m basically just a taxi service that ferries her over to Ed’s

apartment every night so she can spread her legs for him. Or open her

mouth, or whatever.

covered her knees and had heels so high as to make me wonder whether

the game’s “Real-World Physics” had been suspended just so she could

walk in them. And apparently Cindy believes that no bimbo is fully

dressed without a slutty jacket — in her case a shiny red thing that

matched the boots, covered her arms, and ended a good foot above the

waistline of her dress. I checked her occupation again to make sure

it hadn’t changed to “hooker,” but it hadn’t. Apparently she’s still

an old-fashioned respectable adult magazine model.

the house. But that’s only fair, because Cindy never pays attention

to them any more either, except as obstacles to be avoided as she

makes her way to the front door every night to go see Ed. The house

is slowly falling to hell. Piles of trash accumulate in various

places and Bob and the kids grow steadily more morose. But I really

can’t be bothered with them right now. My focus is on Cindy and her

affair with Ed.

blowjob, he screwed her several times, as per their usual routine.

The program no longer makes any attempt to censor their activity; they

just fuck and suck right there in plain view. No bed covers, nothing.

It’s obnoxious, although I have to admit I don’t find it quite as

disgusting as I used to. I suppose I must be getting accustomed to

it.

over to Irwin’s. I know I shouldn’t keep visiting him, but sex with

him is like a drug. I just can’t get enough of him. We’ve fucked

every night since our first time last week, and each time it’s better

than the last. We rarely ever speak to each other at all, and for the

last few days foreplay has lasted an average of thirty seconds. When

I grab his crotch and feel that it’s hard, I really just don’t care

anymore about kissing or cuddling. I just want him inside me.

his cock inside me. With Brad I don’t really get eager for intercourse

until after half an hour or so of foreplay. But with Irwin I get

excited right away, just from seeing him. It kind of scares me

sometimes that I can be so passionate about such a shallow

relationship.
Monday 11/20 11:59 PM

treat. We dressed up nice and had a fancy dinner and all, and

afterward I tried really hard to enjoy myself in bed. But I didn’t.

kissing my neck in that special spot, stroking the back of my leg just

so; all the things that used to work. They don’t work anymore. I

really wanted them to work, but it’s like a switch inside me has been

flipped off. I grew more and more impatient with all his little

maneuvers. I suppose that was unfair to him, but all I knew at the

time was that I wasn’t getting horny, and I was angry about it.

Looking back, I think I was really more angry at myself than at him.

He seemed surprised by this, and he hesitated, which only pissed me

off more, so I started yelling at him, telling him what a pathetic

excuse for a man he was. Naturally, at this point there was no chance

he was going to be able to get it up and service me, and I got even

angrier when I realized that.

being the nice guy that he is, held me and tried to console me. But I

could tell it was forced. I apologized for yelling at him and all,

and tried to explain it off as the result of having been sick and

being under a lot of stress (which I guess is kinda true) and he said

it was all right. We left the hotel and went home. We’re still a

couple, but I don’t think it’s going to last very long.

to my apartment. I went straight to Irwin’s and we went at it without

a word. Brad and I were trying to make love. Irwin and I just

fucked. We fucked and fucked and fucked. I lost track of how many

times I came. Irwin came inside me at least three times, and each

time I went over the top right along with him. I like it when he

comes. I like pleasing him.

wore another slutty outfit — this one had a pink see-through blouse

and tiny powder-blue shorts with black spiked heels. They went

through their usual routine — one blowjob and three boinks. I’ve

stopped really caring about the fact that Cindy is such a tramp. If

she wants to live her life that way, far be it from me to criticize.

probably not what you think. I got tired of waiting for my agency to

find me work. After all, it’s been two weeks since I took my

portfolio to them and they still haven’t sent me email about any jobs.

I have to wonder if they’re even trying. And I’ve gotten several

emails from a competing agency inviting me to come in for an

interview, promising they could find me quick, rewarding work. I

finally decided this morning that it was time to take action.

them they’re no longer representing me. The director pretended to be

surprised and told me he’d sent me at least three emails about

possible jobs. He claimed it had to be some sort of problem with my

email account if I hadn’t gotten them. Yeah, right. I’ve dealt with

his type before — quick to promise, slow to deliver. I took my

portfolio and walked out on him.

other agency. When I explained that I was answering their email

solicitation, the receptionist gave me a funny look. She told me they

hadn’t sent me any email. These agencies apparently don’t keep track

of their correspondence very well. At any rate, I was allowed to see

the director of the agency.

best makeup and my sexiest dress, making sure to show off my body. If

you’ve got it, flaunt it. He was a bit concerned about the fact that

I had no experience with the sort of work his agency does, but he said

he was still impressed with my poise and looks, and he wants to do a

test shoot early next week, as soon as he can line up a photographer.

I left the building in a very good mood.

talking about art, I’m talking about porn. The director said that if

the test shoot goes well, he can probably sell it to a magazine and

make me some money right away. That’s what’s most important here.

Really, I need to do this because I need the money.

asked me what I wanted to use as my pseudonym. Obviously, I can’t use

my real name when I do this sort of work. It only took a few seconds

for me to decide. “Cindy,” I told him. I figure she’s already

sullied her name by being such a whore with Ed, it hardly matters if I

use it for a few dirty pictures. Besides, she’s a centerfold herself;

she’d probably be proud of me.
Monday 11/27 7:45 PM

surprised, and I don’t think he should have been. This was really

just a formality; we’ve been de facto broken up since the Saturday

before last at the hotel. I felt bad because I knew it hurt him. I

didn’t want to hurt him; I don’t blame him one bit for what’s

happened. It’s just that I’ve changed. My needs have changed, and

Brad just can’t satisfy them anymore. Only Irwin can.

first nude photo shoot. It was really simple; I started with a nice

white bra and panties sitting on a four-poster bed. From there, it

was just a process of gradually slipping out of the lingerie until I

was naked on the bed. I was nervous at first, but the photographer

did a good job of coaxing me into more and more provocative poses, and

by the end of the shoot I was spreading my pussy lips with my fingers

and leering at the camera. It was really arousing having all these

people around focused on me — the photographer, the agency director,

the assistants, the makeup and hair woman, all of them focused on

making me look sexy. I felt like a total sex goddess by the end of

it.

go over to Irwin’s tonight. I think tonight I’m going to ask Irwin if

he wants me to sleep over. I don’t want to get in his way, but I

really hate the thought that he might wake up in the middle of the

night wanting to fuck and I wouldn’t be there to please him.
Thursday 11/30 6:25 PM

are starting to make sense.

She wore the black halter top and matching microskirt with the red

fuck-me boots and the skimpy red jacket. She has a lot of slutty

little outfits now, but that one seems to be her favorite. Anyway,

when she arrived she greeted Ed with a blowjob as usual. After that

they went back to the bedroom and started fucking.

top of Ed through his first orgasm before getting underneath him until

he came again. Ed appeared to have an unusual amount of stamina last

night, because they kept at it, with Cindy getting down on all fours

on the bed and Ed doing her doggie-style from behind. And as they

were going at it, with Ed slamming himself into Cindy and her boobs

jiggling with every thrust, I caught a good look at Cindy’s face.

Intrigued, I zoomed the picture in for a better look.

grin, even though I’d never seen it before. It was the same grin that

I feel on my face every night when Irwin is fucking me. I knew what

Cindy was feeling. Cindy was feeling the joy of pleasing Ed. Cindy

doesn’t need a family, she doesn’t need a husband and kids. She

doesn’t need a career, really, although I’m sure she enjoys modeling.

She and Ed never engage in foreplay. Ed never pays any attention to

her sensitive areas. He never has to waste time getting her “in the

mood” because as long as he’s in the mood, she’s in the mood. Ed’s

pleasure is all that matters to her. I loathed her for being such a

tramp, but all along Cindy had it right. She just took care of her

man. If that makes Cindy a slut, then I don’t mind. And if it makes

me a slut, I guess I don’t really mind that, either.

getting louder and louder until they collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

I didn’t even bother taking Cindy home and putting her to bed. Let

her spend the night with Ed, I thought. I ran over to Irwin’s

apartment. When he opened the door, I sank to my knees without a word

and opened his fly. Right there in the open doorway. His cock was

still soft and he hadn’t bathed in a few days. But to me, it was the

most delicious thing in the world. I took it eagerly into my mouth

and gave my first blowjob.

when I tried to take him too deep, and when he finally exploded into

my mouth I choked and some of his come spilled out onto my chin. But

I didn’t care; the important thing was that he did come. He came

because I sucked him off. I’ll practice it and get better, so I can

do a better job pleasing him.

most intense fucking ever. I was so thrilled when he came not once,

but twice in my pussy. I suppose I must have come a few times myself,

but I can’t really remember. All that I can really recall for sure is

that Irwin came once in my mouth and twice in my pussy. I feel asleep

in his arms last night a very contented little slut, knowing that I’d

pleased my man.
Thursday, 12/21 8:39 PM

this journal. There’s so much to catch up on, and I have so little

time. Where to begin?

apartment right next door to Ed’s. This makes everything just so much

more convenient for her. She spends virtually all her free time at

Ed’s place, either sexually pleasuring him or just being there in case

he needs servicing. Her wardrobe has expanded to include a

bewildering array of outfits ranging from schoolgirl-cute to downright

whorish. Often she’ll call Ed before getting dressed; I assume she’s

asking him what he’s in the mood for. Good thinking on her part.

psychology, focusing on Cindy’s repression of her sexual needs during

her marriage to Bob, and her subsequent flowering into a sexually

satisfied woman through her relationship with Ed. At first, I wasn’t

going to do the paper, because it would take time away from taking

care of Irwin’s needs. But then one night as I was riding Irwin’s

cock, coaxing him to orgasm, he asked me how the paper was coming. I

told him I wasn’t going to do it. “Fuck the paper,” I said.

do well in my classes or else I might not be able to stay in school,

and if I wasn’t in school I would have to go home, and I wouldn’t be

able to take care of his needs. Looking back, I’m so ashamed that I

wasn’t going to write the paper. How could I possibly have been so

foolish as to risk getting thrown out of school? If I couldn’t stay,

I’d be betraying Irwin!

nice enough to let me do the writing at his place, so I could take a

break every hour or so to make sure he wasn’t getting too tense or

anything. I even managed a blowjob every once in awhile. It was kind

of funny; Irwin doesn’t like me doing that except at bedtime. But

sometimes I manage to be so sexy that he can’t find it in him to stop

me before I’ve got him in my mouth. It’s a little game we play. Once

he’s in my mouth I’ve won, because if I do say so myself I’ve gotten

to the point where I give really good head now, and Irwin is never

able to get up the willpower to stop me once I get going. I suck cock

like a pro.

to write down my feelings and desires. Irwin told me to. He says

it’s important for a woman to write down her feelings, even if nobody

but her ever reads them. I told him I wasn’t even aware that he knew

I kept a journal on my computer! He just smiled and told me that I

shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about that, especially since I’m

so much better at fucking, anyway. Well, he can always get his way by

flattering me.

sexual liberation, and talking about how she’d found happiness as a

slut. It included a lot of graphic description of her activities. I

didn’t think it was a god idea to include that, but Irwin persuaded me

to put the explicit details in. (He can be really persuasive when his

cock is buried deep in my snatch.) Well, I got an “A” on it. I was

kind of surprised because it was a rush job and all, but Dr. Samuels

gave me a wink and a grin when he gave it back to me, so I kind of

think he rather enjoyed it, if you know what I mean. Looks like Irwin

made the right call after all. He’s so smart.

as a porn centerfold has really taken off. Her income has risen quite

rapidly. She lets Ed manage her money; he keeps it safe for her and

gives her enough to buy a few new outfits a week and keep her makeup

cabinet full. Ed keeps a lot of porno magazines around his apartment,

and I’ve noticed Cindy appearing on a lot of the pixellized covers.

Last week while Cindy was at work I even saw Ed jacking off to one of

them. I guess that’s how Cindy manages to please her man even when

she isn’t physically there. Way to go, girl!

seem to be taking off. My first shoot is scheduled to be published in

the January issue of Beaver Babes magazine, and I’ve already shot two

more sets since then, one in leather with a motorcycle and one on a

beach wearing nothing at all. Irwin is so proud of me, and is so

pleased that I’m posing for adult magazines. He’s started referring

to me affectionately as his “little porno-slut.” My panties get wet

every time he says that.

the cover. I was going to say yes, but Irwin told me not to do that

yet. He said if I get on the cover, that increases the chances of my

parents finding out what I’m doing, and if that happened I might have

to go home, which would make it impossible to take care of Irwin. “We

want your parents to think you’re a good little girl for as long as

possible,” he told me. Boy, I’m glad he’s here to tell me what to do.

stopped haranguing me about the apartment since I started earning my

own money. Of course, they don’t know _how_ I earn money or else

they’d go ballistic. Anyway, the big news is that Tiffany is coming

to college here in the fall. I’m so excited that my little sister is

going to come to the same school I’m going to! My parents also told

me that she was going to have to live with me because their money

situation is still kind of tight.

get mad, since I thought it might get in the way of his sex life. I

waited for what I hoped was the best possible moment before breaking

it to him. I’d just given him one of my best blowjobs ever and worked

him up to a really powerful orgasm before taking his cock out of my

mouth and taking his thick white come all over my face and tits.

After he’d calmed down and praised me a bit for such an outstanding

job taking it on my face, I told him about my sister, expecting him to

still get mad.

whole thing, which really surprised me. He told me it was absolutely

wonderful that Tiffany was coming to live with me, and that her

presence wouldn’t interfere with our sex, or at least not for long. I

asked him what that meant and he told me he just thought that it

wouldn’t be hard for us to learn to work around her. He even

suggested that I should try to convince my parents to let Tiffany get

a job here for the summer so she could move in early and get used to

the city before starting school in the fall. And to top it all off,

he offered to use his connections at work to get Tiffany her own

computer! What a sweetie.

on a plane to go home for Christmas. I don’t really want to go; I

want to stay here and make sure Irwin gets all the head and pussy he

needs. But he told me I had to go home or else my parents would get

upset, and he’s already had to tell me a dozen times not to upset my

parents. So I’m going home, but only for a week, which is the minimum

Irwin thinks I can get away with. I told my parents that my job at

the bookstore (well, at least I _do_ work with magazines) needs me

there for the week after Christmas to handle the rush of returned

gifts. And I gave Irwin a big stack of glossy proofs from my photo

shoots and made him promise to call me whenever he gets horny. If the

poor guy has no choice but to jack off, at least he can look at my

body and listen to my dirty voice while he strokes his cock.

and it’s time for me to give Irwin his Christmas present. I got it

this afternoon at an exclusive store downtown. It’s all leather: a

black halter top with a matching micro-miniskirt, a pair of red

fuck-me boots that run above my knees, and a matching red bolero

jacket. I’ve dressed sexy for Irwin before, but this is the first

outfit I’ve bought specifically for him. I hope he likes it; I’ve

been wearing it the whole time I’ve been typing this and right now I

feel like the horny little porno-slut from hell.

I’m sure Cindy would give me a big thumbs-up.

Copyright © 2001, H. Grant. ALL Rights Reserved

Story Codes: M+/F/slut/bimbo/mc/oral/anal/spitting/Male Dominant

There was no doubt in Samantha’s mind. She was going to law school – or at
least that’s what she thought. Her husband Ted had promised to help her
finish her schooling provided she marry him and move to New York. At the
tender age of 24, Samantha had already finished her undergraduate work at a

local university. It was there that she met Ted – a handsome dark-haired
gentleman of about 30. He was a wealthy photographer who had talked her
into doing some modeling for a fashion magazine. If it wasn’t for him, she
didn’t no how she was going to finish her schooling. Her parents had very
little money and as a result, Samantha relied heavily on grants and loans
to push her way through her first four years of college. The modeling money

Ted offered her was decent and it helped put food on the table and pay for
her books.

Within just a few months, Samantha had fallen in love with Ted. He seemed
such a sensitive and caring man. Ted adored her beauty (or so it seemed).
He admired her slender figure and large breasts. She had beautiful dark
brown hair that went down past her shoulders and a magnificent smile to
match her tender complexion. Ted showered her with money and took her out
to eat at fancy restaurants. Little did Samantha know that all of this
wining and dining had it’s price – and it wasn’t just cooking or cleaning.

In fact, the only hint that there was anything wrong with their
relationship (at least from Samantha’s point of view) was the lack of
sexual arousal on Ted’s part. For a young man of 30, it seemed kind of odd
that he rarely got it up for her. It was sort of a contradiction because he

constantly told her how much he admired her beauty and determination. That
aside, love had a strange way of blinding Samantha to the rest of Ted’s odd

habits.

For instance, he would take long trips to New York and leave her behind for

several days without calling or e-mailing her. Then he would pop up out of
nowhere and take her out to a movie while down-playing his absence. It
didn’t exactly drive her nuts, but Samantha found herself missing him more
and more each time he went away – usually after one of their photo
sessions. He would claim that he was taking the photos to New York to
submit to the fashion executives and would be back within a day or so -
however it usually took a week. Samantha never saw a single photo – nor did

she ever get a glimpse of the so-called fashion magazine that Ted claimed
he worked for. But she didn’t seem to mind. After all, Ted had been very
good to her in a lot of ways. He was never forceful with his convictions or

his point of view on issues that they couldn’t agree on. He never swore at
her and he almost never raised his voice when they had an argument.

`How silly’ Samantha thought to herself. She and Ted almost never argued
about anything in the year or so that they had known each other. The
relationship was perfect and it was becoming quite clear that Samantha’s
future in law was very bright. She had received high marks in almost all
her classes and was well informed when it came to politics.

Ted, on the other hand, was not whom he claimed to be. He was a
professional con artist who worked for an underground men’s club in New
York. The men’s club that he had joined many years ago was populated
exclusively by men who hated and stood against the women’s liberation
movement that started in the 1960′s. In comparison to most of the members
in the club, Ted was relatively young. He hadn’t even been born yet when
the women’s liberation movement started. Initially he had joined because
the club was also a business – a dirty business of forced drug addiction
and prostitution. The “front” business for the club was not much cleaner.
Ted was indeed a photographer, but not for a respectable clothing magazine
as naive Samantha would think. Rather he was a professional photographer
for their exclusive porno magazine and film line titled “PROPER WOMEN”
which sold exclusively overseas due to it’s shocking and perverse content.

Samantha knew nothing of this facade and was not the prying type. She had
her own studies to worry about in addition to her social life with Ted.
Already Ted had managed to wean her away from her family and friends. She
was completely devoted to him and loved him tremendously. It was only on
special occasions that she ever saw her family, and to their dismay she was

almost always accompanied by Ted whenever she did manage to visit Rhode
Island. The two seemed inseparable – except when Ted went away to New York
by himself, in which case she spent her time studying or catching up with
old friends. It was the only time she ever contacted them.

Her life would begin to change rather soon. Ted had made up his mind that
he had gained her complete and total trust. After conferring with his
fellow “business men” in the sex industry, he decided it was time to change

Samantha into something more desirable. All he needed was an angle to get
the ball rolling. The idea finally came in the form of an invitation to an
exclusive club party that Ted was a part of. Ted knew that deep down
inside, Samantha loved it when guys paid attention to her. She made it a
point to let him know that although she wasn’t in the least bit concerned
about how she looked, like most women, her intelligence was not enough and
it seemed to hinder her ability to attract attention from men in general.
Though she made every attempt to hide it, she still yearned to look
beautiful and be desired universally. Ted saw through her facade rather
easily. He knew women inside out and was rather gifted at finding their
emotional weaknesses rather quickly. Samantha was no exception. And she
would soon learn (perhaps painfully) that Ted was the smarter of the two -
by a narrow margin admittedly, and would soon succumb to his every wish.

She was in the middle of combing her hair and applying her favorite
perfume. Samantha couldn’t wait. The trip to New York had been a long one,
but Ted did most of the driving. In addition, they had arrived in the late
afternoon which allowed them time to take a nap. She was definitely excited

about the prospect of meeting Ted’s business associates for the first time.

In addition, she was anxious to see all her modeling work come to fruition
in the form of a gorgeous photo spread in one of their recent magazines.
Ted had used this angle as bate to get her to come to New York with him.
Samantha was falling for it quite nicely as planned. Ted smiled to himself
as he took a drag on his cigarette and waited for her in the main corridor
of their hotel room. His cock began to bulge outward at the inevitable
prospect of the changes that would soon occur in Samantha – wanted or
otherwise. The thought of her dull looking hair changing from dark brown to

a more desirable color invigorated his evil penis to the max. Thank
goodness he was wearing briefs underneath his trousers, otherwise he’d be
pitching a tent so to speak.

Samantha exited the bathroom looking true to form well dressed in a dark
blue dress yet very conservative in appearance giving absolutely no hint of

sex appeal for the enjoyment of the opposite gender. Ted took a good hard
look at her ass when she walked by him to the closet. It was too slender.
Ted wasn’t the type that liked large plump women, but he preferred his
women to be somewhat shapely – though with an overall slender figure. He
simply adored big breasts and couldn’t wait for that aspect to inevitably
change in Samantha’s life. Her breasts were big enough, but he wanted them
larger. The meeting was in 45 minutes, and Samantha would be the main
attraction. Though misogynistic in nature, his fellow “business” associates

were fair in their approach toward women whom they sought to convert not
only in front of the camera, but in real life. As always, the initial
meeting would be softcore. They were sure to ask Samantha to pose in
somewhat lewd positions in a polite manner. If the meeting became strenuous

or acrimonious, the men were sure to become verbally abrupt with her. If
that approach didn’t work, a forced submission would soon follow coupled
with drugs and mental therapy. The physical makeover occurred only after
the mental changes took place.

Samantha had no clue of what was in store for her at this supposed meeting.

She assumed that the men were going to congratulate her on her fine
modeling job and shower her with attention – which she secretly liked. She
couldn’t wait to get a glimpse of some of her fashion photo spreads. “How
do I look hun?” she asked innocently.

“Just fine my dear.” Ted lied.

She had a long way to go before she even came close to looking fine in his
eyes. Too smart, too intelligent, too brunette looking. Her boobs needed a
makeover as well. In all honesty, Samantha didn’t look or act slutty
enough. But when the next week was over, that would all change. In fact,
Samantha wouldn’t even have to put on an act to please him through
role-playing. She would actually BE his trashy blonde dream. It was all in
the cards and the way he played them. If done correctly, Samantha wouldn’t
have to submit to such cruel misogynistic measures, she may actually WANT
to be changed and converted – if for no other reason than her strong love
and passion for him. Still, it seemed this was only a remote possibility
given her intense desire to become a well educated woman and law worker.
Only time would tell, and the clock was ticking toward this much
anticipated meeting at the “studio.”

the meeting place. He was quiet most of the time, and when she asked him
questions he gave short abrupt answers.

“Is anything wrong dear?” she asked him trying to smile and be cheerful.

“Not at all darling……just trying to focus on the road.” Ted replied
cautiously.

Samantha could take the hint that he didn’t want to converse any further so

she stayed quiet the rest of the way. She chalked this up to him being
nervous about introducing her for the first time to his business associates

at the studio. She was partially correct. Ted was nervous, but only about
her initial reaction to some of the “requests” his fellow associates were
certain to make. Samantha had never done any sort of “revealing” modeling
in her life. Only small hints of cleavage here and there, but nothing
serious. That would soon change – whether she liked it or not.

They pulled up in front of a large house near the outskirts of the city. It

was dark and breezy outside and there was only a small glimmer of light
from inside the house – presumably from the main living room. The only sign

that the house was occupied was the long line of cars and mini-vans parked
out front.

Ted offered his hand to Samantha and she clasped it confidently. Her heart
was pounding with excitement and she wished she had checked herself one
last time in front of the dash board mirror to make sure she looked perfect

for the occasion. Ted lead her up the walk way to the large front porch
that was covered with large oak boards. Apparently whoever owned the
establishment was quite wealthy and had a taste for the Victorian era.
There were hints of 19th century decorum in and around the house.

Ted gave the door a simple thud with the knocker. Presently the large
Victorian door was opened by a huge man who was built like a bodyguard. He
looked like one too – though with an upscale appearance. His was donned in
a standard black tuxedo and wore his long dark hair back in a single
pigtail. Samantha correctly surmised that he was about Ted’s age give or
take a year. “Come in. We’ve been expecting you.” said the man in a deep
baritone voice that commanded respect.

Ted nodded silently and lead Samantha into the main hall.

“Your jacket please.” said the man staring lewdly at Samantha.

She smiled uncomfortably and handed the man her overcoat. It was clear that

he had no interest in conversing much and this made her a bit nervous. She
peered down the hall and caught a glimpse of a two main doors that were
ajar with a hint of light escaping the room. The sound of men conversing
was very distinctive and she could pick out signs of laughter.

`At least those people are in a better mood than this walking stiff.’ she
thought to herself as Ted finished speaking with the tall man.

Samantha cursed herself for not listening to Ted’s brief comments to the
guard. She liked being aware of everything that was going on around her.
After all, she was that type of girl – for now.

Ted turned to her and took her by the arm.

“C’mon darling. I’ll introduce you to some of my associates.” said Ted in a

mild mannered voice.

He was being careful not to create any feelings of uncertainty on his
wife’s part. Samantha took his arm and followed him down the elaborate
hallway toward the room with the open doors. When they entered, Samantha
was greeted by a site that she wasn’t quite expecting. Sitting around the
room was a group of seedy looking middle aged men wearing cheap business
suits. They were smoking cigars and filling the room with such a fog of
smoke that she had to fight to keep from gasping for air. These were
definitely not the types of men she was expecting to meet. At least the
guard at the door had the decency to wear a tux, but now it appeared that
it was merely for show. Maybe the owner of this establishment wasn’t quite
wealthy at all. If he was, it didn’t show from the looks of the attire and
characters in this room.

Samantha turned to Ted and looked him in the eye.

“Are these really the men you wanted me to meet?” she asked innocently
trying not to choke on the cigar smoke.

“Yes darling. The are the gentleman who wish to meet you.” he replied.
“Gentleman this is my wife Samantha. She is here to show us some of her
modeling techniques.”

Ted’s statement caught Samantha off guard. She wasn’t prepared to do any
modeling. Even if she was, she wasn’t properly dressed for such an
occasion. The original idea was to meet the men that worked with her
husband and to view some of her previous photo spreads – not model for
them.

Samantha looked more closely around the room trying to take in all her
surroundings through all the thick smoke. There wasn’t a single woman in
the room – much less the establishment.

“I don’t know about this Ted.” she began. “We didn’t talk about this.”

“It will be all right dear.” replied Ted reassuringly. “These gentleman
just want to admire your beauty and talent. If you impress them, it could
lead to bigger and better things for you.”

“But I’m studying to be a lawyer – not a model.” she protested.

“Of course you are my dear.” stated one of the larger men at the head of
the long table.

Samantha was a bit startled by this. She did not know this man and they had

not been properly introduced. As if reading her mind, the man got up and
walked over to her holding his hand out.

“Let me introduce myself.” he began. “My name is Mr. Willis. I am the
executive editor of our…..fashion magazine. Please have a seat and relax,

Ted and I have a proposal for you.”

Samantha thought about this for a moment. The man seemed a bit rough around

the edges, but he appeared to be sincere. She glanced over at Ted again. He

nodded his head in approval, apparently everything was fine. Mr. Willis
held out a chair and motioned for her to sit down. As if to lead her on,
Ted walked over to an adjacent chair and sat down. He turned and gave her a

fake – yet undetectable smile.

“It’s all right darling, they’re just curious about you and want to know
you better.”

“OK.” replied Samantha taking another look at the shady men sitting around
the long oak table. There were about eleven of them in all – counting Mr.
Willis. She tentatively took her seat and looked up at Mr. Willis.

“Thank you my dear.” said Mr. Willis as he reclaimed his seat at the far
end of the table and took a short drag on his half smoked cigar. “Your
husband tells us you are quite a gorgeous woman.”

Samantha looked at Mr. Willis curiously. She hadn’t quite expected this
remark so early in the conversation. However she dismissed it as all part
of the modeling lingo.

“Thank you Mr. Willis.” she replied shyly trying to sound confident.

Ted knew this routine rather well. It was the redundant – yet reliable ploy

of seducing a woman through compliments and praise. It almost always
worked, and it served the purpose of loosening up a woman to more personal
and direct “compliments” later in the conversation. Still he had his
doubts. Samantha was much more intelligent than most of the broads that
were brought into this very room. She might see through Mr. Willis’s
facade. Then again, she might not. It all depended on how Mr. Willis chose
his words.

For his part, Mr. Willis was a pro at the con game and it showed in his
next move. He properly introduced Samantha to the rest of the men in the
room one at a time. The other men gave her brief nods but said very little.

They were smart enough to follow Mr. Willis’s lead.

Alexander was another sly man in the group who was one of Mr. Willis’s
closest associates. He was highly intelligent as well, but he knew when to
yield to his boss. Alexander was also one of the more sadistical men in the

bunch. He got off on burning cigarette butts on women’s arms and legs. This

was rather extreme, but Mr. Willis kept him around because of his shrewd
business sense and keen understanding of a woman’s psychology. Alexander
had indeed done his homework on the subject having studied at a prestigious

university in England. He was also heavily into medicine and drug
experimentation and it’s various effects on the chemistry of the human
body. Having no where to go to apply is knowledge in tandem with his
fetish, he sought out Mr. Willis’s special men’s club having read about it
in one of the magazines. He had traveled far, but the salary that Mr.
Willis provided him combined with the luxury of abusing the models was well

worth the investment in time and travel expenses.

“Please understand Samantha. We have admired you from afar thanks to Ted’s
generous photos of you. You model the clothing quite well and we are
interested in helping you out financially to further your education in law
school.” continued Mr. Willis tactfully.

Ted could see Samantha perk up visibly when she heard this. Mr. Willis was
indeed as cunning as they came. Maybe seducing his annoying cunt for a wife

wouldn’t be so hard after all. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t mind making a
few thousand dollars would you Samantha?” asked Mr. Willis.

Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. `Did he say THOUSAND???’ she thought to

herself. Samantha had never possessed so much money at one time – except
over a period of months and usually with Ted’s or her parent’s help with
school matters only.

“Oh my gosh….sure!” she stated quickly collecting her thoughts.

“Good.” replied the cunning porn executive. “Then you don’t mind if we ask
you to make a few….er….changes. Perhaps in your style and appearance.”

“What kind of changes do you expect Mr. Willis?” she asked curiously.

“Well….” began Mr. Willis eyeing her carefully. “My associates and I have

picked out a special outfit for you to try on this evening. I’m sure it
will fit quite comfortably with your magnificent figure.”

Ted knew that Mr. Willis was lying. He despised Samantha’s conservative
appearance as much as he did. But the conversation and turn of events was
definitely heading in the right direction. Samantha still had the money
offer fresh in her mind and seemed very enthusiastic about doing what was
asked of her.

“Sure….I guess so. Would you like me to model it for you and Ted in
private?” she asked timidly.

“Why no my dear.” Mr. Willis stated matter-of-factly. “We’d ALL like to see

you in it. You’re surrounded by fans – right men?”

Mr. Willis winked at his crooked business associates. He could see the
naked lust in their eyes as they stared at their new prize – soon to be
made into a complete and total slut.

“What type of outfit did you have in mind?” asked Samantha nervously.

She didn’t like the idea of modeling an outfit in front of a bunch of
strangers. Modeling for Ted was one thing, but she barely knew any of these

men outside of what Ted had described of them. Still, the outfits she had
modeled for Ted were not that revealing, and so it was with this in mind
that Samantha accepted the money offer and the bag of clothing that Mr.
Willis held out for her.

“Where should I change?” she asked timidly.

“Go back out into the main hall and make a left, there will be a powder
room down the hall. You shall use that facility while we wait.” said Mr.
Willis eyeing her up one last time before giving the nod to the guard to
escort her out.

Samantha followed the tall burly man out into the main hall and he led her
to the changing room. When she entered and closed the door, she was amazed
at how fancy the room was. The room was surrounded with mirrors on all
sides and was equipped with a large hot tub, toilet, and marble sink with
several cabinets. Little did the cunt know that she was being watched from
a see-through mirror located in the rear of the room. Indeed, Mr. Willis
and his fellow associates were huddled on the other side of the wall in a
separate room adjacent to the conference room they had just left. They
would be able to see Samantha and all her treasures quite easily from their

vantage point.

Samantha withdrew the modeling attire from the bag and was stunned
outright. The outfit she had been given by Mr. Willis consisted of a very
skimpy cherry red mini-skirt. It was of the shiny latex variety and looked
outright slutty. The bag also contained a pair of black fishnet nylons
complete with garter and suspenders. The suspenders were to be attached to
a pair of crotchless black panties of the silk variety. To cap all of this
off, she detected the cherry red lipstick and black eye shadow enclosed in
the bag.

`No fuckin’ way I’m wearing this for these creeps. Who do they think I am
anyway – a cheap prostitute?’ she thought to herself as she put the
contents back in the bag and headed for the door.

Samantha didn’t know who she was more angry with Mr. Willis and his
associates, or Ted – her beloved husband who would allow such an atrocity
to happen in front of all those filthy men.

Behind the mirror, the men shuffled back to the conference room shaking
their heads. This woman would require more than just a little money and
prodding to do their bidding. They were seated back in their chairs just as

Samantha entered with an angry look on her face.

“You can’t possibly expect me to wear this outrageous outfit!” she stated
coldly to Mr. Willis.

“On the contrary Samantha, we certainly can – and you WILL.” replied the
cunning executive.

“Like hell I will!” blurted Samantha feeling even more uneasy. “Ted, I want

to leave this establishment right now!”

“You realize that Ted will no longer fund your education if you leave.”
said Mr. Willis flatly.

Samantha’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. She relied on Ted for almost

every penny now-a-days to get through school. This couldn’t possible be
true. She turned and looked at her husband questioningly. From the look on
his face she knew right away that it was true. Ted was indeed in on this
filthy scheme just like the rest of these bastards. Feeling betrayed and
horrified at this shocking revelation, Samantha burst into tears and flung
her arms out and clung to her husband desperately.

“Say it isn’t so Ted….(sniffle)……say that it isn’t true and I’ll
believe you….we…we can put this behind us Ted.” Samantha whimpered
desperately.

“I’m afraid it is true darling.” Ted began. “All we are asking is for your
cooperation. It won’t be so bad once you get used to it.”

“But I don’t want to do it Ted…..(whimper)….it’s so….so shameful….”

cried Samantha.

Mr. Willis nodded his head at Ted and winked. Ted looked down at his young
wife and his voice became much firmer.

“You will do this for us or you will lose everything – perhaps even your
family.”

Samantha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her husband was not only
threatening her well being, but her family as well!

“You wouldn’t dare you bastard!” she cried out loudly as she began pounding

her fists in futility on her husband’s chest.

“I’m afraid so Samantha.” Ted began. “We have powerful connections to the
mob. You will obey, or bad things will happen not only to you – but your
family as well.”

“It’s quite simple really.” Alexander chimed in. “You obey us, and
everything will be all right. If not…..”

The sadist let his voice trail off. He didn’t need to restate the threat
again.

Samantha knew she was trapped. She couldn’t possibly continue on with
school without Ted’s support. More importantly, she didn’t want anything
bad to happen to her family. Besides, it was only a little bit of modeling.

What could possibly be wrong with that?

“OK…..(sniffle)……I……I guess I’ll…….I’ll do it….” Samantha
murmured softly into Ted’s chest hoping in vain that no one else would hear

her.

Ted was not the husband she married, and the shock of this was still too
much for her to bare. She continued sobbing on his shoulder because she had

no where else to turn. The thought of being wrapped in the arms of a total
fake and creep nauseated her to no end, but she had no where else to go. In

anger, she managed to stammer her last words of disobedience to Ted.

“You creep! You’re a sicko just like the rest of these jerks!” she blurted
out between tears.

“Maybe so…” said Ted. “But you’ll think differently after a while.”

Samantha didn’t quite know exactly what he meant. But she would soon find
out.

“Now my dear….” said Mr. Willis in a soothing voice. “Why don’t you take
that nice little bag and make your way to the ladies room again for us.
We’re anxious to have a good look at you.”

Samantha winced at his sarcastic kindness. She shot him and icy glare, but
she obeyed him and picked up the bag. The huge guard put a strong hand on
her shoulder – as if to remind her how puny her attempts to escape would
be. Slowly he guided her out of the conference room and ushered her down
the hall toward the first step in her destiny as a new woman.

and torment as well as dumb blonde humor. They all shared one thing in
common – their disdain for women and their view of them as mere animals
bread solely for the purpose of male sexual pleasure and servitude.

When the large oak doors of the conference room opened again, they were
greeted by the stunning figure of Ted’s wife – Samantha. The shiny red
latex min-skirt rose all the way up her fishnet clad thighs revealing a
hint of her black silk underwear with a hole in the crotch (a part they
couldn’t quite see just yet). The guard had given her a pair of slutty 6
inch high heels to start out and they made a sharp clicking noise whenever
she walked. Her face was lightly made up with black eye liner and her lips
were adorned with red lipstick of the bright “slut” red variety. She had
obviously stinted on the makeup applying as little as possible, but the men

didn’t seem to mind – at least not initially. The only other fault with her

physical appearance was her natural hair color and breast size. All the
gentlemen in the room preferred blondes – particularly platinum blondes
with big boobs and small brains. However these problems would soon be
addressed in conjunction with drugs and attitude conditioning (the latter
of which would take a little more time). Despite all this, Samantha still
looked astonishingly beautiful (albeit in a slutty way) and almost
immediately grabbed their attention. However the look on her face suggested

an aura of tension and guilt – a complete turn off to most of the men in
the room save for Alexander – who preferred his women to appear upset with
discomfort.

“Come closer to the table Samantha. We want to see you in the light.”
commanded Mr. Willis.

Samantha said nothing as she stepped forward timidly in her high heals. She

felt extremely uncomfortable in these shoes and even worse, she felt very
vulnerable and exposed. The slutty high heals made their customary
“click….clack….click” noise on the oak floor as Samantha came to within

a few feet of the table. Mr. Willis winked at the other men. As if on cue,
the men began removing their ashtrays and brief cases from the table -
clearing space for their new prize model.

“Climb up on the table sweetie and stand upright like a good girl…..I’m
sure you want to give us a good show.” continued Mr. Willis.

Samantha hesitated and began to sob. She felt extremely embarrassed.

“I think we need to help her out a bit.” said Ted as he motioned to
Alexander’s briefcase on the floor.

Alexander hoisted his briefcase on the table and opened it. Within short
order he withdrew a sterile needle and a small bottle of serum.

“W….what are you doing?” asked Samantha trying to hide her growing fear.

“Were going to give you a little something to help you relax darling.” said

Mr. Willis. “Don’t worry. It will only hurt for a second.”

“N….no…..no please….I……I can’t…” stammered Samantha backing
away from the table.

She was immediately greeted by the firm hand of the guard once again. This
time he gripped her shoulder a little more firmly.

“Please don’t make this difficult darling.” said Ted. “We want this to be
an enjoyable experience for you.”

“He’s right Samantha.” said Alexander filling the needle with a clear white

serum. “We’re just going to help you relax a little bit more than usual.”

Samantha could hear the other men chuckling to themselves. She bit her lip
in fear. What were these men going to do to her? Samantha didn’t like the
idea of having her mind or thoughts altered in anyway, but it seemed she
had little choice – especially with the firm hand of the burly guard
pinching an exposed nerve in her shoulder. He was obviously an expert at
special holds and nerve damage – probably a black belt in something.

Alexander walked over to her holding the needle in his right hand. The
guard gripped Samantha firmly. Any movement by Samantha would probably have

resulted in a great deal of pain – especially with the way he was gripping
her arm and shoulder.

“Hold still darling.” said Alexander with a wicked grin on his sadistic
face. “This will make you more….shall we say….susceptible to our
demands.”

“Just try and relax Samantha….we know you’ll soon enjoy modeling for us.”

said one of the other men.

Samantha knew nothing of the serum that was slowly and painfully being
injected into her vain. Alexander could have done it more quickly and
painlessly but he enjoyed watching Samantha squirm in agony. The fluid he
was giving her was indeed a mind sedative – it was designed strictly to
bring about an aura of light headed feelings. Though her attitude would
still remain relatively the same in terms of embarrassment and shame,
Samantha would be much more relaxed and receptive to the men’s demands.

The burly guard held Samantha firmly as the menacing liquid was slowly and
methodically deposited into her soft waiting arm. The stench of the serum
was quite strong and Samantha wrinkled her nose at the smell of it. After
the ordeal was over, she was guided onto the conference table and told to
lay on her back for a while until the drug took effect.

“It’s OK baby.” soothed Ted. “In just a few minutes you can resume posing
for us.”

“Uhhhnnnn…..n….nooooo…..” whimpered Samantha as she began to feel
light headed and slightly dizzy.

The rest of the men stared at their new prize intently observing everything

from her slight body movements to her facial expressions. Within minutes
the men soon observed a dull listless gaze come forth from Samantha’s eyes.

She was fully coherent, however she possessed neither the drive nor the
will to put up much of a fuss against their wishes.

“Stand up on the table Samantha.” commanded Mr. Willis firmly. “It’s time
for you to show us what makes a woman so special.” laughter from the other
men

Almost as if she were sleepwalking, Samantha stood up on her slutty high
heals and walked across the oak table. The men guided her to the center
beneath the bright light and began glaring at her slutty attire. They
observed the outline of her breasts as they pushed outward against the
shiny red latex mini-dress. They were also afforded an excellent view of
her crotchless panties underneath her short skirt.

“Turn around slowly my dear.” continued Mr. Willis. “Show us that nice ass
of yours.”

Samantha turned around slowly – rewarding the men with an excellent view of

her soft bottom. It was partially exposed due to the shortness of the
mini-dress she was wearing. She did indeed look like a cheap hooker on
heals.

“Now Samantha, we want you to unhook the left shoulder strap of your
mini-dress so that we can see part of your tit. Go slowly my dear. We have
all the time in the world and we just love a strip tease from a tasty
little slut like you. Don’t we men?”

The other men chuckled and nodded their heads in unison. The total
degradation and humiliation of this poor woman was enough to drive them
over the edge of ecstasy. Samantha blushed with embarrassment. Slowly she
undid the left shoulder strap and let the top of her dress drop clumsily to

reveal a partial – yet appetizing amount of her soft white cleavage. She
was definitely a prize to behold indeed.

“Pull it down a little further.” continued Mr. Willis. “Let’s have a closer

look at that sweet boob of yours.”

Samantha did as she was instructed – clumsily fiddling with the strap in an

attempt to pull the upper part of the latex dress down further to expose
her soft booby. When it was fully revealed, the business men caught a nice
glimpse of her dark brown aureole and pouting nipple. Samantha’s face
turned pink with embarrassment. These men were truly bent of fully exposing

her for their perverse pleasure and sexual gratification. This was not
modeling. It was pure humiliation.

“Now the other side darling.” said Ted following Mr. Willis’s lead.

Samantha looked at him dreamily. The medicine Alexander had given her was
now reaching it’s maximum effect. Slowly she undid the other shoulder strap

of the slutty dress and let it slide down clumsily. Now both of her soft
boobies were in full view of the leering men.

“I’ll bet she wants to show her pussy hole for us boss.” said one of the
men.

“Of course she does.” answered Mr. Willis. “She’s going to learn to enjoy
exposing her slutty body for us. Aren’t you my dear.”

Samantha didn’t know how to answer. Her mind was fuzzy from the effects of
the drug she had been given. Soon she was instructed to squeeze her boobs
together and smile while Mr. Willis took a few pictures.

“Lie on your back whore!” commanded Alexander. “We want to see your pink
bimbo hole.”

“Yeah. Show us your trashy crotchless panties.” said another.

Samantha blushed even more, but she was too out of it to resist their
commands.

“Do as he says my dear.” soothed Mr. Willis as he continued to snap some
more pictures. “Show us what a dumb woman you can be….spread your filthy
legs….that’s a good bitch.”

Samantha lay on her back with both of her shoulder straps down. The table
was cold and unforgiving and very uncomfortable. The men obviously didn’t
care about this annoyance. They wanted to see her womanly treasure.
Hesitantly she moved her fingers down to the crotch of her dress and hiked
it up further exposing her silk black panties. The panties were extremely
slutty in nature and revealed all of her cunt to the men.

“Hold your legs up and keep them together my dear.” said Ted. “Mr. Willis
wants to take a few shots of your stupid piss hole.”

“Good girl Samantha.” added Mr. Willis. “You’re behaving quite nicely for
us.”

“Just wait till we give her the `slut’ makeover boss.” said one of the men
taking a long drag on his cigar and fondling his prick with his other hand.

“Indeed.” replied Mr. Willis snapping some pictures of her exposed twat.
“She’ll make a fine woman soon.”

“And a fine wife.” Ted added winking to the other men.

Samantha nearly burst into tears, but her emotions were kept in check by
the intoxicating medicine. She was to become a slave to Ted and the rest of

his cronies. The thought of becoming a simple minded bimbo was indeed
revolting, and she fought to get her thoughts back into focus in hopes of
escaping – damned the big guard. However the drug was too strong. Too
powerful. Alexander had indeed done his homework on the female mind.

“Pull your pussy lips apart for us dear.” said Mr. Willis.

“Yeah.” said another man. “Show us were you make tinkle.” more laughter

Samantha managed a small – yet barely noticeable grown. Slowly she pulled
her puffy vaginal lips apart and gave the middle aged men the show they had

all been waiting for – the inside of her precious cunt.

“Oh that’s soooo pretty Samantha.” said Mr. Willis snapping several more
pictures. “Give a nice little smile…..that’s a good girl….now give us a

wink….you want to please us don’t you my darling.”

Something inside Samantha gave way and she moaned her response.

`WHAT AM I DOING???’ she thought to herself as the moan escaped her slutty
lips.

The drug was indeed taking it’s toll on her will. Samantha felt as if she
were drunk. The room became a slight blur. She could barely make out the
faces of the dirty old men around the room – much less stand up again.

“I think she’s almost out.” said Alexander. “We’d better prepare her for
surgery. Did you call Dr. Andrews?”

“Yes I did.” replied Mr. Willis finishing the last role of film.
“Unfortunately he will not be here until tomorrow. We’ll have to put her to

bed in our special quarters. I’m sure Ted will make the necessary
arrangements for her stay here.”

“Sure boss.” said Ted. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly if we keep her

nice and sedated.”

“Leave that to me.” Alexander cut in. “I’ve personally worked with Dr.
Andrews on many of these cases. She’ll be your perfect blonde tit dream
within a matter of days.”

Ted smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait for the completion of his wife’s
transformation. He was so excited at the thought of his wife becoming a
nice docile blonde bimbo that he could barely control the raging hardon in
his dress pants.

Samantha could barely feel Alexander and the burly guard pick her up from
the oak table and carry her out of the conference room. Her mind was
swimming in a sea of haze and utter confusion. She didn’t feel her clothes
being removed once she was brought into her special room. She didn’t feel
them lay her on her back and spread her legs apart. Nor did she feel the
ankle and wrist straps being applied to her on both ends of her luscious
body. Lastly came the blind fold and another injection of sedative from
Alexander’s special kit of medicine. Within moments, she felt herself drift

off into a heavenly blissful sleep – one that she would never wake up from
as a free woman. Indeed, Samantha’s next waking moment would not occur for
several days. Her waist would become much slimmer due to a deliberate lack
of nourishment, and her only access to water would be through an
intravenous tube. She would indeed awaken to a new kind of life – one of
utter submission and simple minded obedience.

The first thing Samantha noticed about herself was the fullness of her new
mouth and ripe collegian lips. Her breasts had been blown up to triple the
size they were before and they felt rather heavy and uncomfortable at
first. But Samantha didn’t seem to care. She felt extremely light headed
and giggly. Within a few minutes a handsome man in his late thirties
entered the room wearing a white coat – the kind that doctors and surgeons
wore. He leaned over the bed and smiled at his new peace of work.

“Hello princess.” he began. “My name is Dr. Andrews, but you can refer to
me as Master Andrews.

Samantha had forgotten a great deal of her former vocabulary, but she still

understood basic simple terms in English. However the handsome Master
seemed to be talking too fast for her to comprehend, so she merely giggled
and smiled at him.

“I must be talking too fast for you my stupid little cunt.” he continued.
“That’s OK. We don’t like sweet little tarts like you to talk too much
anyway. Your lips are now built for slurping and sucking – just like a cute

little infant.”

Samantha smiled and giggled again.

“hee hee……sl….slurpy….sucky……mmmmm.” she moaned trying to match

some of his words together.

Hours later, Samantha was fully dressed in “proper” women’s attire and
escorted back to the main mansion. Her outfit consisted of a shiny black
leather collar with silver metal studs that seemed to nearly choke her. She

also wore a trashy black latex halter top with giant holes where each of
her surgically enhanced breasts jutted outward invitingly. Her naval was
pierced and adorned with cheap looking silver rings and a tattoo was
located below the base which read “ANAL WHORE.” Just below that a was a
shiny black latex mini-dress which fit tightly around her newly enhanced
waist line which accentuated her slutty bottom – which in turn was
practically fully exposed to anyone who wanted a peek. Her asshole had been

widened considerably to allow for several dicks to enter at once – or even
a large object of the men’s choosing. Her vaginal lips had been permanently

pried open by several silver ring studs that were placed on either side of
her labia to allow for maximum usage of one (or more) large cocks. She wore

no panties of any sort and was clad only in trashy black latex boots that
went all the way up to the middle of her knees which permitted only a
minimal amount of bending. The boots were adorned with 10′ inch spiked high

heals which made her lean uncomfortably on her tip toes at all times. The
heels also served to make her walk “properly” and obediently. In addition,
the heels also served as an open advertisement to anyone within ear shot
that a super slut / hooker was coming in their direction.

Samantha’s face and hair were also a dream to behold. Her hair was
permanently dyed platinum blonde and hung down her shoulders in a straight
- yet slightly ragged fashion. Dr. Andrews had deliberately given her hair
the appearance that it hadn’t been washed or bathed in a considerable
amount of time. To top off the sleazy bimbo look, Samantha’s face was
loaded with slutty makeup – complete with shiny cherry red lipstick which
gave her new collegian lips a sort of pouty / inviting appearance that
commanded the storage of one (or more) cocks at once. Her dull listless
eyes where smeared with slutty black eye liner and mascara. Her cheek bones

had also been raised slightly to give a more pleasing appearance. To
complete the transformation, Samantha was given a large wad of bubble gum
to chew on to create the credible appearance of a teenybopper groupie.

“Hello Ted.” greeted Dr. Andrews as he entered the main lounge. “I brought
someone here to see you.”

When Ted looked up he was greeted with the sound of clicking high heals and

the appearance of his perfect blonde bimbo dream. When he looked his new
wife in the eyes he searched for any possible hint of intelligence or
reminder of her once bright past but found only a dreamy eyed vacant look.

“Hello Samantha.” he said trying to control the bulge in his trousers and
the lustful urge in his voice.

The only response he received was an extremely high pitched giggle and the
growth of a huge pink bubble expanding out of her enlarged cock sucking
lips.

“POP!!!!………giggle.”

Samantha swayed sluttishly from side to side with a hand on her hip and a
dreamy air-headed expression on her cheaply made up face.

“We have chosen you to be the first recipient of Samantha’s outgoing
personality and special talents.” began Dr. Andrews. “I think you will find

your new wife quite accommodating and generous with her time and cheerful
attitude.”

“I’ll bet I will.” said Ted as he stood up to shake the doctor’s hand and
show him to the door of the lounge.

The other executives were out doing some film preparations in anticipation
of Samantha’s first screening appearance. When Ted was alone with Samantha,

he took one last look at his former wife. Then he lost all respect for her
(what little he had in the first place anyway). He came up behind the
giggling tart and wrap his arms around her newly formed torso. Lustfully
his large hands found their way up to her huge tits and began tweaking the
nipples harshly until they were beat red and sore. Samantha managed a few
uncomfortable squeals, but giggled and popped her bubble gum for the most
part and swayed dreamily in his sadistic arms. Ted licked her ear and took
a whiff of her cheap perfume – the kind most bimbos wore to impress men of
his stature. Only this time it was different. Samantha know longer cared
about money – much less knew much about it. She merely wanted to please her

Master(s) and behave like a proper woman. She wanted to wrap her brand new
pouty red lips around his swollen cock and deep throat him. For the first
time, she wanted to know what sperm really tasted like. Of course coming
out of a “God” like Ted, it would be one of the most pleasing experience’s
in her life and one she would aspire to each and every time she was with
her husband / Master.

Ted reached greedily under her micro-mini latex skirt and fondled her
sopping wet cunt which had been widened considerably by the metallic ring
studs adjoined on either side of her swollen labia. Samantha giggled and
flung her hair back in slutty fashion as she swayed from side to side in
Ted’s evil arms. Ted wasted no time in testing Samantha’s vaginal limits -
expanding her cunt with several fingers at once. In and out he mushed his
fingers coating them with thick creamy slut goo.

“Open your stupid mouth Samantha.” he commanded harshly. “Let’s add some
special flavor to that wad of bimbo gum you’re so fond of chewing.”

Samantha obeyed her Master graciously and rolled her eyes in slutty
fashion. Her mouth popped open and was instantly greeted by several smelly
fingers jammed menacingly into her waiting mouth. For the first time,
Samantha tasted her pussy juice and was instantly hooked on the salty taste

of vaginal cream and stale urine.

“Oooooohhhhh………mmmmmmmm….” the bimbo moaned as she tasted the
shameful bodily fluids in her stupid inviting mouth.

“That’s a girl sweetie…..just suck and slurp like a professional whore.”
said Ted soothingly in her ear. “That’s going to be your new role in life.
Pleasing and obeying all kinds of perverted men. Men like me.”

Samantha felt herself falling in love with Ted all over again. But this
time there were no strings or contingencies attached. No money involved or
desired. She just wanted to please him over and over again. Her every
waking moment would be spent wondering where he was and wishing she was
with him or one of his associates. She would find herself hoping to find
new and incredible ways to earn their admiration and adoration – perhaps in

the form of simple daily chores – ones that weren’t too difficult for her
to comprehend or carry out.

Ted removed his sticky fingers from her mouth. Samantha had performed her
first “duty” admirably. She had cleaned the salty residue from his fingers
thoroughly and was awaiting her next opportunity to please him and show him

what a “good girl” she was.

“Now Samantha, I want you to kneel down as best you can and open your mouth

for me.” commanded Ted in a firm voice.

Samantha obeyed. Slowly she went to her knees despite the restrictive knee
high boots and opened her ripe red lips. Ted unzipped his trousers and
pulled out his fat throbber. It looked enormous to Samantha – having
forgotten what he looked like in the past. Ted aimed the evil snake at her
waiting slut mouth and brushed the smelly tip against her swollen lips.

“Ummmmm……..ughhhhhhh….slurrrrrrp!”

Samantha began to suck on the thick fat cock that was impaling her sweet
stupid mouth. Within moments she began to slobber all over the oak floor of

the lounge. Piles of slutty drool escaped her retarded cunt of a mouth and
formed a slimy pool below her latex covered knees. Her nipples remained
quite red and swollen from Ted’s harsh pinching and were now quite
sensitive to touch. Her titties bobbed slightly up and down in little
jiggles as her mouth became a human receptacle for Ted’s swollen man tool.

“Oh yeah!” gasped Ted as he mashed her blonde head to his sweaty crotch
with both of his powerful hands. “You’re such a goooood girl……what a
willing sweetheart…..such and obedient bimbo slave.”

“Ummmmm…….mmmmmmm…..slurp……drool……slurp…..!”

Samantha rolled her slutty eyes up at her new husband Master in search of a

hint of admiration and appreciation – just like a stupid clumsy dog waiting

to be petted in all the right places. Her tongue rolled and slithered up
and down the shaft of his thick penis just like a professional hooker. She
wanted to bathe him in blissful glory and show him how much his Godly
presence meant to her. She worshipped him with all her heart and tiny
little mind and wanted so badly for him to bless her with his manly cream.

In and out the cock went. The thick piece of male lard mashed itself
against the back of her slutty throat in search of her tonsils. Amazingly
Samantha only choked and sputtered a few times, but soon she would get used

to this type of harsh degrading treatment. Ted could already tell that she
had been “fixed” properly and was already learning the sweet and painful
rewards of pleasing a man in all those “special” ways.

Indeed, Samantha was learning to enjoy this sort of treatment from a man.
She would soon look forward to the blessings of pain that Alexander had in
store for her white trash body. She wouldn’t mind being used in any way at
all as long as it brought pleasure to her Masters. At this point, Samantha
would only come to know of her most frequent reward. It came in the form of

a huge volcanic blast of filthy goop all over the inside of her sweet dirty

mouth. Ted had unleashed a monstrous load of semen inside her swollen lips
and it spilled over onto her tonsils. Some of the squishy cream seeped out
of Samantha’s mouth and onto her shiny latex halter top. Little globs of
filthy cream oozed onto her swaying boobies and dribbled onto the oak floor

below. Some of the cream oozed out in small rivulets and dribbled down her
trashy chin. The thick salty cream coated her mouth and she immediately
began to swallow what was left of it. The ugly jizz slithered down her
worthless throat and coated her stomach. Ted looked down at her sleazy
makeup and her vacant dim-witted eyes. They were lifeless and her thoughts
were filled with nothing but candy cotton air. She was now just a worthless

smelly whore from head to toe. Samantha stared up at him in desperate
search of approval from her lord.

As she was staring up at him, something slithered out of her Master’s mouth

and splashed against her left eyebrow. Ted was spitting on her. Oh how
wonderful! She just knew that he liked her! She smiled up at him as more
spit poured down on her messy face. She was pleasing him! And soon she
would be the most popular girl with all of her Master’s friends. She just
couldn’t wait for her new husband to introduce her to his fellow
associates. Her Master’s treatment of her made her feel so special and
important. It was indeed a special treat to have a powerful man spit on her

girlish face. Samantha’s feeble mind reckoned that it was probably
extremely rare for any woman to receive such an honor from a God like Ted.

The slimy spit oozed down her nose and mouth and dribbled down her sweet
chin – so prim and proper. Just like a good woman’s chin should always be.
Ted wiped the remaining residue off of his cock using Samantha’s blonde
hair as a towel. Then he ordered the bitch to stand up and follow him to
the main hall. Once there, he ordered her to stand with the guard until the

rest of his entourage arrived and decided what to do with her. Samantha
felt uncomfortable in her high heel boots, but she smiled to herself
knowing full well that she would soon get used to her new uniform. She felt

so proud and sexy in it. She was more than willing to wear anything at all
if it meant pleasing men. For some reason she couldn’t remember or fathom,
she looked down on modern women.

Indeed Dr. Andrews had planted plenty of “new” thoughts in her pea size
brain. One of them was her disdain for her previous life as a law student.
Samantha no longer liked thinking for herself. After all, she was just a
girl. She not only wanted a man to do her thinking for her, she NEEDED a
man to think for her. She just couldn’t help herself anymore. She got
extremely wet in the crotch just thinking about the blessings and rewards
of dependency upon the opposite sex. Her body shuddered and tingled at the
thought of pleasing other men. Their bodily rewards for her were probably
quite numerous and too great to imagine in her simple little mind, but that

didn’t stop her from getting a glowing sense of pride in her new purpose in

life. Dr. Andrews had told her that being a “fuck toy” was the greatest and

most sought after profession among women – only most didn’t know it yet.
Though he vowed to her that this state of affairs among modern day women
would soon change over a period of time, and that she would soon make new
friends with women who were just like her.

Samantha clutched her breasts and pushed them together with her soft
girlish hands. She was dressed in virtually the same outfit as before save
for one small difference – a bright pink latex halter top. It was the same
style as the previous one however with the holes cut out to expose her
naked tits. They were enormous and they bobbled up and down clumsily
whenever she walked or made sharp movements. They looked like two ripe
melons when she pushed them together.

“Arch your back slut!” commanded another.

Samantha giggled and arched her back for the camera. Her big boobies stood
out even further. Mr. Willis and Alexander took turns pinching tweaking her

nipples as the cameras flashed.

“Turn around and wiggle your stupid ass for us Samantha…..that’s a good
girl.”

Samantha smiled and shook her luscious bottom. It swayed invitingly from
side to side and looked perfectly proportioned – thanks to Dr. Andrews
cosmetic surgery.

“Now bend over and hike up your mini-skirt for us….we wanna see some REAL

ass!” said Alexander winking at Mr. Willis.

Samantha turned around clumsily on her high heels so that her bottom was
facing the two men. Then she bent down and stuck her ass outward invitingly

giving it a seductive wiggle for the two executives. Then she hiked up her
black latex mini-skirt and pulled down her crotchless panties. She was
extremely damp and some girlie goo dribbled out of her open vagina and onto

the oak floor.

“Isn’t she adorable?” asked Mr. Willis. “Just look at that sweet
butt….spread your ass cheeks for us honey…..that’s a nice girl…..show

us where your real brain is….that’s it….right inside that slutty little

brown hole of yours.”

Samantha spread her hiney apart so that the men could have a clear view of
her sexy brown anus. It peaked out from between her butt cheeks and winked
at the men. Alexander smiled to himself. Samantha was one of those girls
who had a large brown ring of skin surrounding her anal orifice. Her butt
hole was already partially open due to the surgery she had. It looked ripe
for the picking indeed. Alexander loved anal sex and he didn’t hesitate to
stick a large finger inside her exposed bottom. Menacingly he wiggled it
around inside – coating it with her anal treasures. Mr. Willis smiled to
himself. Today was going to be a big day for Samantha indeed. He watched
intently as Alexander began to stick more fingers inside Samantha.

“Oooooohhhh…….giggle…..” Samantha swooned with anal bliss as she felt

the insides of her bowels expand with each additional finger.

Alexander pulled down his trousers and whipped out his cock. It was
extremely rigid at the thought of the infinite sadistic possibilities he
had with this slut. Mr. Willis did the same in turn. Soon Samantha had two
cock dangling around her and several camera men taking lewd pictures of
her. She was still bent over when she felt Alexander remove his fingers and

replace them with a very stiff penis. Mr. Willis moved to the front of her
and instructed her to “suck.” Within moments, Samantha had a cock in her
mouth and one in her ass. Alexander had no trouble entering her slutty dark

hole. It was already extremely loose – just like a professional whore’s. He

pounded his stiff cock into her ass mercilessly while Mr. Willis drilled
her face with reckless abandon. The two cocks sea sawed in and out of her
open holes until she turned red in the face from so much hard fucking. Then

she was greeted with thick smelly slime entering her body at both ends. The

messy splooge gushed into her trashy orifices like two sewage pumps -
coating her insides with sticky smears of white jizm. Mr. Willis held her
face up with both of his hands and commanded her to let the rest his cum
drool out of her mouth for the camera. It was definitely a ?ite to see.

“Let’s put a camera on her ass men.” he offered. “Perhaps we can have a
good shot of the goop coming out of her bottom.”

Alexander pulled out just in time – commanding Samantha to squeeze what was

left of her anal muscles so that his slime would cum oozing out for the
camera. Samantha obeyed and squeezed hard. The sticky white jizm soon began

to ooze out of her ass and onto the floor below. Picture after picture was
snapped and a video camera was added to the mix. More bright light was
beamed down on her slutty bottom to maximize the effect of the degrading
scene. Samantha remained slumped over with her knees locked together -
smiling and giggling for the men.

`What a stupid fucking whore.’ Mr. Willis thought to himself – Dr. Andrews
had definitely earned his money this time.

When all was said and done, Samantha smelled like a cheap piece of fuck
meat just waiting for another stud to take his turn. And indeed they did -
one right after the other. Each camera man got his turn to fuck her white
trash holes. Some fucked her mouth. Others fucked her pussy. But most of
them enjoyed the pleasure of filling her dark brown poop hole with thick
smelly jizz.

Samantha was in a state of fatigue when all the men finished using her. For

one thing, her legs were extremely tired from staying in a standing
position for so long. For another, her ass and cunt were sore from all the
hardcore drilling she had received from the executives. One thing was
certain, she was definitely going to be the star of a lot of porn movies.
She had indeed been transformed into a “proper woman” as Dr. Andrews had
promised and would soon make an excellent servant wife for her Master /
husband Ted. The best part about the whole arrangement was the fact that
the sleazy porn executives didn’t have to pay her a cent for her time,
energy, or humiliation. She was now a natural – born again slut in the
making. Her first video would soon appear on many shelves in Europe. And,
to the delight of Ted and his partners, the profits would fall right back
into their pockets. So much for law school expenses.

THE END

Author: Imagineer

Part One, in which Faith can’t help but take a growing interest in a new wardrobe.

The office manager looked up. “Apartment?” she asked in an annoyed tone. Janice was off Mondays; this older woman apparently covered the office for her.

“302.”

The older woman shuffled off to the back room, out of sight. “What’s the name?” she called out.

“Matthews,” Faith called back. She heard boxes being stacked and restacked. After too-few moments of looking, the annoyed voice reasserted itself. “I don’t see it here. How big is it?”

Faith looked at the slip that had been left stuck to her door, looking for the parcel weight or some other clue. “I’m not sure. It came UPS.”

The level of annoyance increased. “Well, what did you order?” it asked. More stacking and unstacking, then it stopped. “Here it is,” the office manager said as she reappeared, carrying something a little larger than a shirt box.

“Thank you,” Faith nodded as she backed out of the office.

Ten minutes later, Faith was sitting, silent and motionless on her couch, still in her work clothes. On a normal day she’d start peeling out of them before the front door shut, eager as much for mental as physical comfort to get into jeans and a T-shirt; but the unexpected package had intrigued her, so after slitting the packing tape on one end with her key, she’d slid the contents out onto the coffee table. The contents surprised her.

It was after checking both the delivery slip and packing list several times that she’d had to sit down on the couch, as a mixture of shock, anger, and fear flooded her. And just a little excitement.

Several minutes of spinning her mental wheels had gotten her nowhere. A dozen suspects had been added to and crossed off her list, leaving her with no more clue than before. Who would have sent her lingerie?

She picked through the bits of cloth on the table, looking at the tags for a manufacturer, but they only indicated the size. Stranger still, letters were inked over the size… T, F, another T, W, TH… days of the week! What the hell? Faith dropped the scrap of cloth in her hand and sat bolt upright. This was getting freaky. She snapped her head to the left, looking out her patio window, but the blinds were angled so that no one could see in.

Faith began examining the items themselves, laying them out carefully according to the letters on their tags. They all seemed to be the same basic style — satin bra and matching panties, all white save two pieces in black — but the bras were in different sizes and the panties varied in cut. “It’s like they just pulled everything off one rack at Macy’s,” Faith mused. And they were all too big for her, though she could make Tuesday’s 34A work if she added pads. Wednesday and Thursday’s 34Bs and Friday’s 34Cs were useless. This must be somebody’s sick joke making fun of my boobs, Faith thought. Or her lack thereof; although a slim and graceful 5’5″, Faith was basically flat-chested. Angry, she balled all the bras up and shoved them back into the box. Her hand hovered over the panties, hesitating. She could always use more underwear, and all but Friday were Small, her size. But this was a “gift” best not accepted; she shoved them into the box as well, and stormed off to get changed.

Comfortable in her torn jeans and half-shirt — her “laundry night” outfit — Faith ordered her usual Dinner For One from the chinese place down the street and hurried down to the laundry room to get her loads started before the food showed up. One machine with her cotton underwear and weekend jeans and T-shirts, another with her blouses and nylons, the last with her vests and pants. She was lucky to get all three machines going before Scowling Man from upstairs could tie up all four machines. Like clockwork, he’d rumble down the stairs at 5:55 arms loaded with a pair of duffel bags and a box of Cheer hanging from his right hand, load up all the machines, and then forget his laundry until 9:00, when he’d stomp down the stairs again to throw everything into the four dryers, and stomp down one last time at 11:00 to haul his stuff away. Faith avoided doing laundry on Mondays when she could — Scowling Man intimidated her almost as much as he irritated her for the way he’d monopolize the laundry room — but she’d been busy on the weekend and didn’t have any office clothes left to wear tomorrow.

She’d just taken delivery of her weekly chinese indulgence when she heard Scowling Man make his way downstairs. She turned the volume down on the stereo and listened with bated breath. A few muffled exclamations, then a heavy stomp back up to the third floor. Faith resolved to keep as quiet as possible when she picked up her things later; she didn’t need a run-in with him tonight.

As always, the chicken-and-brocolli over rice was good, if a little too spicy this time. Faith finished her third glass of water before getting up to pee. When she sat back down and began flipping channels for something interesting to watch, she noticed the time. Her laundry should be ready for the dryer…

“Look, I didn’t do it, all right? Now leave me alone!” Scowling Man’s face was red, his bulky frame filling his doorway. Faith shook as the adrenaline rushed through her, but she wasn’t backing down.

“All’s I know is, I happened to get my laundry in before you could go down there and hog all the machines like you always do, and I come back and everything’s ruined! If you didn’t do it, who did?” Faith’s grammar and vocabulary usually reverted to high-school girlishness when she got flustered.

“Sure I was mad that you intentionally disrupted my schedule,” Scowling Man replied, “but I’m not gonna wreck all your stuff, even if it isn’t much to look at.” He obviously didn’t intend it as a slight, but it was hard to take it any other way; this was not a man who often considered the feelings or opinions of others.

Faith was taken aback. “You god-damned…” but she ran out of steam as she looked up at this mountain of a man. No, he was a jerk, but in that self-absorbed way that told her playing dirty tricks was too much effort and too indirect for him. He confirmed it: “If I was gonna do something, I woulda pulled your stuff out and piled it on the floor until I finished. You know, you should really think about how your actions affect other people,” he finished with an ironic twist that settled the young woman.

“Well I’m sorry,” she said, fire still in her tone, “but somebody destroyed basically my entire wardrobe by pouring some kind of greasy solvent in the machines, and I can’t exactly afford to go out and replace it all.”

“I’m sorry too, um, ma’am, but I didn’t do it, and I can’t help you. Are the machines okay to use, or am I going to have to go to the other building?”

“I don’t know; probably not,” Faith mumbled, the adrenaline subsiding and the helplessness of the situation washing over her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said and turned to go.

Scowling Man watched her go, simultaneously trying to figure out whether she meant the machines couldn’t be used or he wouldn’t have to go to the other building, and contemplating the shape of her butt in her faded jeans as she made her way down the hall to the stairs.

Back in the laundry room, Faith’s dark mood grew. How was she going to get her clothes cleaned? She’d tried running the machines again, but that only made it worse. What looked like dirty, oily grease from the underside of a car was all over everything, even more of it than after the first cycle. She started pulling items out one by one, looking for anything that was salvagable, but it was hopeless. It looked thoroughly ground-and-soaked-in. And aside from a couple of things she wore when she used to go out, which she couldn’t exactly wear to work, her closet was empty.

“Okay, I’ll be in tomorrow. Thanks, Jim. No, I’m sure I don’t need an advance, but I appreciate the offer. All right. Bye.” Truth was, she could use the advance, but she didn’t feel comfortable accepting one when she’d only been working there for six months. The office rumor mill guaranteed that everyone would know about it, confidentiality policy be damned, and that combined with all new clothes wouldn’t improve office relations with her peers any. She’d just have to do what everyone else did and join the ranks of the credit-card debtors. She had plenty of room on her new ProMedian Visa — with the interest rate being what it was they’d be tickled to see her rack it up to the $5,000 limit.

Going commando around the house on laundry night was one thing; going shopping was another. Faith sat on the bed; after dumping out her dresser drawer, she was presented with just two pairs of little-girl frilly ankle socks and a ridiculous lace-front g-string, the other half of a Frederick’s of Hollywood babydoll she’d received as a misguided valentines-day gift in her senior year of high school. Poor Johnnie; he’d apparently had a crush on her since they were freshmen, but had never screwed up the courage to even approach her. Finally, seeing his time was running out, he’d written an embarrassing (and at the time, scary) seven page letter professing his undying love for her. He wasn’t a spaz or anything; actually, he was kinda cute and she would have gone out with him, but his feelings had reached such epic and twisted proportions that all she could do to save face was crush him. (Well, it isn’t called a crush for nothing.)

The g-string was worse than nothing at all; it had never been worn or washed, so the lace felt scratchy on her sensitive skin. She stepped out of it, and was about to step into her jeans when she remembered the package.

“What am I, an idiot?” Faith said out loud to no one. “Whoever sent me this must have wrecked my clothes.” She pulled the underwear out of the box. Tuesday turned out to be a thong; Wednesday and Thursday’s high-cut bikinis would show through her worn, tight jeans. She often went without a bra, but neither her half-shirt or her cotton camisole top could conceal her completely without one. Especially today… it wasn’t time, but they felt a little puffy. She picked up the Tuesday bra. It fit perfectly. “Okay then, no pads.”

Faith was proud of herself. She’d managed to leverage a “buy one get one free” sale into four complete pantsuits. They weren’t of the highest quality, but they’d do for a couple of months. A few conservative blouses, and some grabs from the discount bin at Victoria’s Secret and she was set. She’d even found a pair of low-heeled pumps on sale.

“I’ve gotta cut out the chinese food; it’s making me fat.” Faith looked with a frown in the mirror; her new bra didn’t fit, and her slacks felt tight in the seat. At least they didn’t pinch at the waist. She went back to the bra she’d worn the day before, thinking it was cut a little bigger, but it was tight too, her flesh bulging slightly at the top of the cups. “I’m too old to be growing; what gives?”

Faith returned to the box of bras, digging for Wednesday’s 34B. “Well, it worked yesterday; let’s see if we can repeat.” Sure enough, the bigger bra fit comfortably. It must be made a little small, Faith rationalized. The matching bikini panties were a foregone conclusion; she’d had a thing about matching tops to bottoms ever since she began wearing a training bra.

Faith received a few lingering looks from the male passers-by as she typed away at her console. A few made comments: “nice blouse!” “You look cheerful today!” She couldn’t help but enjoy the attention; she’d accepted being invisible at work but she didn’t like it. It wasn’t until she stopped in the ladies’ room on the way to lunch that she saw the cause of the change. Her blouse was quite a bit more sheer than she’d thought when she bought it, and a little too snug, too. The lines of her white satin bra were quite evident underneath. “Show’s over, boys; the jacket goes back on this afternoon.”

The headache had started right after lunch, but by four o’clock it was hard to concentrate — and she’d already taken two Advil from the supply cabinet. “You look like you got hit by a truck,” Jim said in a concerned tone.

“I… I’m sorry, Jim, I just have a splitting headache.”

“Well, I saw you hitting the Advil an hour ago; not helping huh? Why don’t you knock off early today. Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel better and you’ll show us all a little more of the happy Faith, eh?”

Faith thought she heard the makings of a double meaning, but Jim’s innocent smile brushed such thoughts away. “Oh… Okay. Thanks, Jim. I really appreciate it. I’ll make up the hour tomorrow.”

Getting into her car, Faith heard — and felt — the rip right up her backside. Her fingers confirmed what the breeze told her; her slacks had split right up the center seam from waist to crotch. “Lovely… I better return the other pairs before I split those, too.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but those are all sold out. You got the last of them.”

Faith’s expression turned grim. This was getting ridiculous. “I’ll just take a refund, then.”

“I’m sorry, but you bought these on clearance. I can only give you a store credit.” The thirty-something sales droid was just trying to make her cry…

“Fine.” Faith was determined not to be beaten. “Do you have anything similar?”

“Slacks just aren’t popular for business-wear this season. But we do have skirts in the same fabric. Or were you planning to bring back the jackets, too?” The saleswoman’s tone was condescending.

Well, Faith, it’s either skirts, bust the budget wide-open at Macy’s, or sink to… K-Mart. “Show me.”

Thursday morning found Faith angry. “Someone is fucking with me and I DON’T LIKE IT!” she screamed in frustration. She liked the changes — her boobs were definitely bigger, and she could swear her curvy hips were more than just the cut of the skirt — but it bothered her that she was being manipulated. Again, the only bra that fit her was the one marked for the day; she’d resigned that Friday would likely bring more of the same and stuffed that day’s marked underwear in her bureau drawer in preparation. Thursday’s coordinating satin thong left no panty lines on her snug but conservative knee-length skirt. Buttons matching those on her jacket held closed the slit that ran up her right thigh. A long-sleeved white satin blouse with a V-shaped lace panel in front and high collar and cuffs complemented the black skirt and jacket nicely; two-inch black suede pumps capped cheap-but-serviceable white stay-up stockings. As she retouched her makeup — a little more eyeshadow and deeper-red lipstick was appropriate with such a conservative dark outfit, she told herself — Faith’s anger faded.

At work, Faith was her usual efficient self — but she couldn’t help smiling at everyone who passed by her desk. As they did the day before, everyone commented how nice she looked. She was even asked to lunch by Cliff from outside sales. Until now, she’d always thought he was an egotistical jerk, but today he radiated warmth and gentle confidence…

Checking herself in the bathroom mirror after lunch, Faith was somewhat dismayed to find that again her attire was slightly more provocative than she’d intended — but this time due to poor construction. The seams of her blouse were unraveling fast; when she took her jacket off the sleeves went with them; she made deft repairs by neatly pulling out the remaining loose threads — if one didn’t look too closely it simply looked like it was sleeveless all along. She noticed a loose thread at the edge of the front lace panel and tugged it sharply to break it off, but instead of snapping it simply pulled, unraveling halfway to the other shoulder. The lace now gapped obviously; she couldn’t leave it as is. Faith carefully pulled the thread the rest of the way out and the lace panel fell away, wafting to the floor. “Hmm, a bit much in the cleavage department, but not out of the realm of professional dress,” she mused. “Two days ago I didn’t have any cleavage to show!”

It wasn’t until late that afternoon that she noticed that five of the eight buttons that held her skirt closed were missing. The tight skirt parted halfway up her thigh, and the outside refused to remain in place on her knee; the slightest movement sent it draping downward. She slipped into the bathroom in an attempt to make adjustments, but her new & improved derriere prevented twisting the skirt to either side; Faith feared a repeat rump-splitting performance when she sat down. Worse, on her way back to her desk she’d nearly been run over by Jim as he came barreling around the corner; while she managed to avoid a collision, she’d nearly lost her balance and grazed a partition wall. This dislodged two more of the skirt’s buttons, and bending to retrieve them pried loose the last of them, opening the slit to just eight inches from her waist. “One more nightclub-only skirt,” she frowned. She’d planned to hide behind her desk and ride out the day, but Jim had given her “emergency filing” to do.

Her embarassment intensified as she worked, moving from one filing cabinet to another in the aisles between desks and low-walled cubicles. The office was basically an open floor, so she was generally within the field of vision of a half-dozen employees. Though she turned bright red whenever she caught someone checking her out, at least they weren’t being rude about it — they were all polite smiles and sweet compliments. It must have been a record-breaking day for trips to the restroom, the break room, the literature table, filing cabinets — the men sought any excuse to walk by and get a better look. Faith knew they couldn’t help but look her up and down — from her four-inch patent pumps to the inches of exposed soft bare thigh above the lace of her sheer white stocking-top on up to her tightly-held breasts — any more than she could help being so exposed. Still, to be on display was embarassing, if a little bit exciting at the same time.

“If I can just get through tomorrow, I’ll be able to buy some more clothes on Saturday — preferably stuff that won’t disintigrate.” As she walked through the lobby at the end of the day, her heels clicked seductively on the polished granite. She caught her reflection in the glass door; the four-inch heels added a sway to her new hips… four-inch heels!? “I’ve never worn these heels to work… am I going crazy?” When she got to her car, she took a closer look. These weren’t her shoes, were they? Did she buy them and not remember? That wasn’t possible; she wouldn’t have bought shoes that were so… sexy, with their glossy patent finish, pointed toes, stiletto heels, and a dramatic low-cut shape. They seriously weirded her out; but they were surprisingly comfortable, as if custom made for her. She slipped them back on; impossibly, they shaped and caressed her feet. “Feels better than barefoot,” she said out loud to no one. She resolved to dig up the receipt — she hoped they weren’t too expensive; maybe she could get another pair, perhaps in different styles and colors…

Part Two, in which Faith is redressed and comes to meet her benefactor.

Faith regarded her reflection in the mirror with befuddlement. After her fitful night’s sleep, she didn’t look much better than she felt. At the same time she had to admit she looked fantastic. Her confusion and fear gave way to curiosity as she posed in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, admiring her new and improved shape.

The “Friday” bra confirmed it — a bountiful C-cup. Not that she really needed a bra — they jutted out from her chest proudly like twin globes, appearing to defy gravity with their firmness. They jiggled just enough to disprove surgical enhancement. They complemented the twin globes of her ass nicely. Faith ran her hands over her ass cheeks, smacking them in disbelief and making herself cry out in surprise. They looked particularly perky in the daringly-cut ruffled black bikini panties; only the waistband was elasticized, so they gave tantalizing glimpses of her perfect derriere as she moved. Almost as good as her new tits looked in the front-hook demi-bra, her nipples just covered by the smooth black satin.

Faith shook herself out of her reverie — she had to get to work! Her makeup already done (a shade saucier than Thursday) she returned to her closet to consider her options.

She was determined not to repeat yesterday’s disaster — even if it did give her a bit of an exhibitionist thrill, she didn’t want any more of a ruckus than she knew she’d already caused so far this week. Besides, whoever it was that was doing this to her wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of seeing his handiwork any more than necessary. As much as she loved the physical changes, she was still her own woman and she wasn’t going to reduce herself to an object in some dork’s twisted fantasy.

Despite the foreshadowing of the gifted underwear, Faith hadn’t shopped for this contingency — at the time, she hadn’t wanted to believe what was coming. (Faith smiled at the unintended double entendre.) Her options were therefore reduced to just one — a baggy pale yellow sweater that buttoned up in back and a white rayon wraparound skirt that hung loosely from her hips to graze her knees. Faith was afraid her black lingerie would show through, but fortunately her outfit was opaque enough that she couldn’t see anything underneath. Faith tried on a pair of nude stay-ups, but for some reason they didn’t seem right; she settled on a pair of sheer pale yellow ones she’d forgotten she had. As much as she wanted to wear her new super-comfortable black pumps, she had to admit that they pushed her ensemble over the edge into best-forgotten New Wave territory, so she slipped on her old white flats. But she took her black pumps with her — she wanted to be sure to find the store where she bought them when she went shopping that evening.

Faith arrived at work to find two surprises. First was the new receptionist’s workstation. The foreboding onyx monolith was gone in favor of a clear lexan counter cantilevered from a single clear lexan cube near the wall. Even the chair was made from the stuff, except for small angled cushions on the seat and backrest that were made of inflated clear plastic. From several feet back it almost looked as if the receptionist’s phone was hanging in mid-air. “I bet Gwen’s going to like that,” Faith thought of the receptionist, who liked to flirt with the cute sales reps and couriers as they came and went.

“Ms. Matthews?” Jim called to her from the door to the main office floor. “Can I see you in my office?”

The second surprise was that Gwen was out sick — and Jim had volunteered Faith to handle reception in her absence. She tried to beg off, memories of her previous two days at work mingling with the nightmares of last night. “I’ll feel naked out there sitting at Wonder Woman’s Invisible Desk,” she said, realizing after she said it how surrealistically true her choice of phrasing was. But Jim insisted, adding with a subtle glare that her being the last of the admin assistants to show up for work hardly gave her room to argue.

By the time she left Jim’s office to assume her position, the coveralled men from maintenance were gone, and huge mirrored panels covered the wall behind the desk. Could it get any worse? She was literally on display — from the front and the back!

Resigned to her fate, Faith settled herself on the invisible chair. It was the strangest chair she’d ever experienced — the seat was angled like those new-age knee-rest contraptions from the eighties, only without the knees. It put her in a half-sitting, half-standing position. And the backrest was leaned way back. After a few minutes, interrupted twice by phone calls, she managed to figure out the chair’s adjustments well enough to raise the backrest, but the seat’s mechanics were impenetrable. Poor Faith felt stupid trying to figure it out, and gave up after what turned out to be more than an hour. Her calves and thighs were sore from squatting on the floor all morning. The seat was high off the ground — the chair was better called a stool — but at least it had an angled block of a footrest; if she pointed her toes she could just reach it. After sitting in it for a while, Faith had to admit that it was actually quite comfortable. She could cross her legs and shift positions, and although her leaning-on-a-cloud appearance looked odd to her, the two couriers that came in both remarked how cool she looked suspended in mid-air.

Their eyes confirmed that it wasn’t just the workstation they were admiring; the first one complimented her on her “amazing” sweater as his eyes quickly scanned up and down her form. The second one — boy was he cute! — did one better, remarking how her eyes competed with her outfit to outshine each other. “You really light up the room,” he added, “like a bright yellow bolt of lightning!” She glanced down at this, and had to admit that the room’s lighting did make her sweater appear more of a sunshine yellow than the pale lemon she’d thought of it in her closet. It felt tighter, too. She self-consciously tugged down her sweater and her skirt as the courier left with a wink; both garments tended to ride up a bit in this chair. As she turned back to the phone, she caught a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror that didn’t look right. Something on her back… she twisted to get a better look. It wasn’t something on her back, it was her back — several buttons below the neck had disappeared from her sweater. In fact, the sides wouldn’t even meet, her smooth bare back fully exposed from shoulder to shoulder and halfway to her waist. Her black brastraps framed the sides and bottom; one button held the collar that framed the top. “Omigod, it’s happening again!” Faith panicked and hopped off the chair to head for the bathroom, but lost her footing on the slick floor. She collapsed in a heap, limbs flailing about reaching unsuccessfully for anything to stop her fall. The impact stung, knocking the wind out of her.

Faith lay still for a moment, gathering up her wits. Eventually, she used the chair’s seat to pull herself up, hopping on one foot, the other temporarily without its shoe.

“Are you okay?” a concerned voice caught her by surprise; she spun around and nearly fell again; this time, the right sleeve of her sweater caught on the top of the backrest, slowing her descent enough to catch and right herself again. Still standing on one shoe, she looked up and saw her new friend Cliff.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, turning beet red, “I’m just not used to this chair.” Still gripping the chair, she looked down as her foot poked about searching for its lost shoe.

“Or those shoes, I guess,” Cliff answered. Faith found the wayward slingback heel and bent down to slip it on. Hadn’t she worn flats? She felt dizzy… “Yeah, I guess,” she replied meekly. “Excuse me while I go powder my nose.”

Once in the safety of the bathroom, she surveyed the damage. She still couldn’t understand how it was happening, but this wasn’t exactly the sweater she picked out this morning. In addition to the open back, it was quite form-fitting, and stopped several inches short of her waist, just above her navel. “At least this one didn’t turn see-through,” she remarked hopefully. The right sleeve was torn from below her elbow up to the shoulder seam. Faith had experience here; she skillfully picked at and pulled the threads along the shoulder seam until the arm came loose. In a moment of inspiration, she repeated the procedure on the cuff, pulling it cleanly from the arm and placing it on her wrist. Not exactly jewelry, but kinda cool, she decided. Faith did the same to the other arm and cuff.

Moving on to her skirt, she swished it this way and that, looking for damage. The pleated design had apparently ridden up, stopping six inches above the knee. She tugged it down lower on her hips again. This exposed several inches of bare skin at her midriff, but covering her thighs kept it looking somewhat respectable.

Faith stood back and spun around to take in her overall appearance, her long straight blond hair swishing across her bare back, sending chills up and down her spine. The bright yellow sweater, wrist cuffs and matching-bright yellow stockings were certainly electric, especially against the shiny-white polyester skirt and white patent slingbacks, but not quite trashy. Ferris Bueller’s idea of trendy high school nightclub wear, maybe. As embarassing as it might be to have her coworkers see her in such a risque outfit, she did have the figure for it.

But the bra stuck out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t visible from the front, but the exposed straps in back were just plain ugly. On a lark, Faith decided to try going without it — just to see what it would look like, she told herself. She reached up under the sweater and popped the catch, then deftly executed a shrug-out-of-the-bra maneuver, pulling it out behind her. She fondled the sheer mesh cups for a moment before carefully folding it and placing it on the counter.

“Wow! These new tits are amazing!” Faith frowned only for an instant at the unexpected use of the word “tits” before captivation at her image overcame her. She considered leaving the bra off — the way her sweater fit, anyone could see she didn’t need it — but the woven fabric felt itchy on her nipples.

Just then the phone rang; remembering her duty, she quickly shuffled out to the receptionist desk, forgetting her bra on the counter.

It was another hour before she “discovered” the magic switch. A small clear cylinder protruded from one corner of the footrest; when she stepped on it accidentally she felt a push on her backside. Faith leapt out of the chair, gasping in surprise. Just then the phone rang, startling her further; she answered breathlessly.

As she stood next to the chair listening to an irate customer who wouldn’t let her get so much as a word in much less a “let me transfer you,” she observed a subtle movement in the cushions. The left side appeared to inflate for ten seconds, then it deflated as the right side inflated, and the cycle repeated. After transferring the call, she clicked the footswitch and the oscillation stopped. She clicked the footswitch again and the chair resumed its cycle; she could hear the air whooshing through the little tubes hidden along the back of the pedestal, like gentle breathing. Faith eased herself back into the chair; the effect was subtle, but marvelous. It caused her to shift her position subtly, probably to combat fatigue. The longer she sat, the more relaxed she felt…

Lunch came and went. Cliff graciously brought up some of his Thai food when he’d heard that Jim needed her to stay through lunch. Faith ate meticulously, hyper-aware of the visibility even a speck of dropped food would have in such a sterile environment. It tasted very spicy, and more than a little strange.

At two o’clock, a courier came in with a large flat box, awakening Faith from her erotic daydreams encouraged by the massaging motion of the air cushions. “Sign here, please.” Faith stretched back in a relaxed yawn before leaning forward in an exaggerated manner to sign on the courier’s outstretched clipboard. The sweater had stopped itching her nipples long ago as it continued to shrink; in fact, she rather missed the tingly sensation, and had been experimenting with various motions to shift her unfettered tits underneath the constricting and softening fabric when the courier arrived. The yawn and lean achieved the desired result, to the point that her nipples stiffened and poked at the sweater like pencil erasers. The courier’s eyes practically fell out of their sockets, gaping at the luscious vision before him. His look broke Faith of her erotic daydreaming and her cheeks burned crimson as he handed her the package.

She was halfway to the main office door when she looked at the package label. “It’s to me!” she squeaked. Excitement was joined by fear and anger as she recalled the last package she received. Shaking, she returned to her seat and tore the package open, dumping its contents. A pair of shoes clattered loudly onto the invisible desktop, followed by two little socks with fuzzy stuff and a small sweater with more fuzzy stuff. Taped inside the box was a note: “Put these on to signal your acceptance.”

Faith angrily swept the desktop, sending the box and clothing scattering across the floor. “Who the FUCK do you think you are?” she screamed. Her pulse raced and her breathing came in gasps; she was furious!

“Is there a problem?” Jim poked his head around the corner. His eye caught Faith’s, then caught the litter of items on the granite floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir. I.. I…” she struggled to come up with an excuse. “They sent me the wrong stuff again,” she smiled weakly.

“Okay, well, keep it down.”

“Yes sir, I will. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Oh, and I think you spilled something on your skirt.”

Faith looked down. Christ! Apparently she’d dropped a blob of that Thai sauce right in her lap. “Oh, darn. Thanks for pointing it out; I hadn’t noticed.” Inside she seethed. Of all the luck…

Faith stepped down to retrieve the fallen articles. The sweater was actually a skirt that seemed to match her top perfectly — same soft fuzzy woven fabric, same electric-yellow color, but with maribou trim around the hem. The bootie-socks were electric-yellow fishnet with maribou trim at the ankle. The shoes were clear plastic stiletto mules with what looked like five-inch heels. Fuming, she stuffed everything back in the box. She also picked up the two pens and notepad she’d sent flying.

In the bathroom again, Faith tried blotting out the sauce, but only succeeded in making a small dark-brown stain a larger medium-brown one. The wet area around it was nearly as obvious. Her thoughts went to the skirt in the box, and then the note. “No fucking way,” she grunted through clenched teeth.

Maybe no one would notice the stain if she wore the skirt backwards… Faith returned to her desk moments later, beaming with pride at her ingenuity. In moments she was lost in the relaxing massage of the chair…

Cliff sauntered in again. “How’s the new receptionist?” he grinned. Faith smiled. “Feeling great, considering.”

“Considering what? Oh, that.” His gaze was fixed on the wall. Faith followed it to the mirror, confused. Eventually, she saw her skirt draped down over the back of the seat — and the large hole burned through it.

“Omigod!” Faith bolted up, her hands swiftly covering her exposed backside. Cliff caught a quick glimpse of her black sheer mesh ruffle panties. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh, I guess you hadn’t noticed that.”

Faith remained frozen in place. “It was your damn Thai food — I spilled a little of that brown sauce, and it ate right through my skirt!”

“I can see that,” Cliff grinned. Faith was not amused. “Here,” Cliff said, pulling out his wallet. “Buy yourself a new one. I’m really sorry; I guess I forget how potent I like my Thai.” Faith took the offered bills, one hand still trying (unsuccessfully) to maintain her modesty. “Do you need a sweater or something to cover that up? I’ll go see if anybody in back has something. In the meantime, it might be less obvious if you tucked it in instead of letting it hang out.” He grinned again. Faith could swear she saw a glint beaming from his teeth. She was equally embarassed and excited that he’d seen her so… helpless. Cliff walked past her into the office.

Tucking it under her seat, Faith sat down and twisted round to see her reflection. That was even worse; the burnhole was up high enough that her black panties were plainly visible. She waited ten minutes for Cliff to come to her rescue with something to wrap around her waist, but he never returned. She couldn’t exactly go back there like this, and his phone was on Do Not Disturb. She tried ringing other offices nearby but no one answered.

Finally she gave up waiting and stormed into the bathroom for yet another attempt to recover her virtue. “If backwards worked, maybe sideways will…” Faith’s hopes were dashed as the zipper jammed open. She spun the skirt sideways, but was forced to hold it closed with one hand. That just wasn’t workable. She returned to her desk.

“I know you don’t have anyone to cover reception, but it’s been really slow and my skirt zipper broke! [pause] Please? [pause] Well, yes, but I can’t really- [pause] It’s just that- [pause] Okay.” Faith hung up the phone, broken. Jim had asked her — no, ordered her — to wear the skirt she’d received and stay until the end of the work day.

Once the sweater-skirt was on, her anger at being manipulated subsided in the face of the knockout babe looking back at her and the burning insistence of her hard nipples as her tits struggled against her skin-tight sweater. “I should have been wearing this all day!” The skirt was amazing — the perfect complement to the sweater. Low-slung on her hips, it flared out, hanging in loose folds that gave tantalizing glimpses up her thighs. If she stood still, it hung just long enough to conceal her crotch; but if she bent or sat or stood on a podium… The hem was lined with feather-soft maribou, matching the strips around her neck and wrists. Overcome with erotic energy, she couldn’t help but strip off her stockings and put on the fishnet booties and clear-plastic mules. The total package was yellow dynamite. She scanned her reflection hungrily, licking her lips as she drank in the gorgeous slut before her. The high fur-trimmed collar gave her sweater a false sense of modesty; her nipples poked into the sweater wantonly, visible as shadows through the thin cashmere weave. The skirt was similarly thin; if she pressed it down against her skin, she could see the shadow of her gauzy black panties. The fur-trimmed fishnet ankle socks drew attention to her taut calves and thighs, stretched to the limit atop the five-inch clear stilettos. Through her sex-fog she was dimly aware that her cuffs were now fishnet gloves, their maribou wrist trim matching her feet.

The phone was ringing. She tore herself away from the mirror to answer it. She sashayed across the room, her skirt dancing and swirling madly about her ass, which struggled to escape from the fluttering panties. It stopped ringing before she picked it up — dialtone. No matter. She would just sit in this awesome chair and wait. She adjusted the backrest all the way back, so it was nearly aligned with the angled seat, switched on the air massage, and leaned back in the chair; the maribou trim tickled the bottom of her asscheeks. The massage seemed to be on a faster cycle now; its rhythmic rising and falling caused her hips to sway back and forth; she slumped slightly, pulling her panties up into her crotch and grinding her pussy against the front edge of the seat. Her legs shifted back and forth, further stimulating her sensitive lips. Faith arched her back into the chair, thrusting her perfect tits skyward. Her hands rode up her body, fingers working their way to her rock-hard nipples…

“My, my, truly a throne fit for a queen!” The booming voice startled her. She stiffened and shook the fog from her head; it was Johnnie!

“Or perhaps a pedestal to show off a work of art,” he added more quietly as he approached.

In her mind, Faith was instantly transported back to high school. Embarassed at being seen like this, she was nonetheless too far gone to stop writhing.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Johnnie moved quickly behind her, tearing her hands away from her engorged nipples and pulling them down behind her. Faith heard a metallic Click!; her hands were locked together!

Johnnie stood before her, kicking her legs apart with his feet. He grabbed the fur-lined hem of her skirt and flipped it up lewdly, exposing her see-through black ruffled bikini panties to the world. In an instant he was upon her, pawing and licking and pinching and biting her nipples through the thin fabric. As terrified as she was at what was happening, her body would not be denied. She wrapped her leg around his and pulled him closer.

A hand invaded the space between her splayed legs; a fingernail poked at her dainty underwear and tugged. Faith felt them rip slightly. Two fingers forced their way into the hole and stretched; they both heard the fabric tear slowly until there was a ragged four-inch slit. Before she knew it, Faith felt Johnnie enter her in one viscious thrust; she cried out in surprise.

Johnnie pistoned in and out of her, steadily increasing the tempo; Faith matched him thrust for thrust. The maribou trim from the back of her skirt worked its way between her legs and tickled his balls; this unexpected contact drove him on at a frenzied pace. Faith put her other foot up on the desk behind him; her shoe fell to the floor. He reached back and stroked up and down her leg, pausing at her fur-trimmed ankle and then focusing on her arch. The tickling made Faith spasm uncontrollably. Her breasts jumped around under the oppressively-tight sweater; her nipples were on fire. Johnnie was close now; he grabbed one asscheek in each hand, first fingering, then tugging at the ruffled panties. The flimsy material gave way an inch at a time; the sound of each rip egged Johhnie on and finally over the edge. They screamed as they exploded in unison, gripping each other tightly. Finally Faith’s leg unwrapped itself from Johnnie’s as she passed out, spent. The stiletto mule hung loosely from her toes.

Johnnie pulled out and zipped up. “Damn, she’s out cold.” He took a moment to catch his breath, staring at Faith’s prone form; she breathed deeply, her chest heaving. Reaching into a bag on the floor, Johnnie pulled out a camera. “I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a few snapshots to remember the moment,” he sneered. He peered through the lens of the expensive camera, stepping back to frame his shot. “Fuck ME!” he whooped as his eyes drank in the sleeping sextoy before him. “Oh yeah, that’s right… you DID!”

Faith made for quite a sight. One fishnet-clad foot rested on the clear desktop; the other leg hung down loosly, the clear stiletto heel dangling precariously. The chair leaned far back, thrusting her hips and chest forward as her shoulders sagged back, weighed down by her hanging arms, still bound together at the wrists by a metal clasp concealed in her gloves’ maribou trim. Her all-yellow outfit exaggerated her splayed position atop the clear lexan pedestal in the middle of the naked room; it made Johnnie think of a lone sunflower, straining to let fly its seeds.

The shutter snicked more frequently now as Johnnie got down to business; he could stare at the pictures all he wanted later. Or fuck her again, in that outfit on that chair, or anytime & anywhere else wearing anything he wanted, for that matter. Sure, there might be consequences, but Johnnie figured he could afford them. After the remarkable gift his old boss Richard Pearson had bestowed upon him, he could get just about anything he wanted when it came to chicks. And his photography experience turned that into easy money. Which turned into more chicks. And cars and a bitchin’ home entertainment system and computers and shit.

Johnnie reminded himself that he had to be gone before she woke up; the orgasm worked ‘it’ out of their system and they were normal again — until he hit ‘em with ‘it’ again, anyway. He still didn’t get how ‘it’ worked; it had sounded like so much geek-fantasy bullshit when Richard had first explained it. But fuck if this wasn’t living proof that the formula worked, sprawled out and leaking fuck-juice right out of her ripped-up skivvies and runnin’ down her leg. Besides, this was his geek-fantasy. And he looked forward to living a lot more of it.

“Just a couple more shots…” Johnnie already had six rolls that he’d taken illictly throughout the day, and he was working on his third post-sex roll, but it would be so much better if… there! “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” Johnnie had lifted her arms up and hooked the clasp between her wrists in the roots of her long blond hair. It made her look like she was caught in mid-stretch. And there were no signs that she was any closer to waking up. He snapped a few more, then caught further inspiration. His camera dangled from its strap around his neck as he reached down, grabbing the bottom of her sweater in both hands. He pulled, and the sweater parted, slowly tearing up the middle all the way to the fur-trimmed collar. The staccatto sound of failing fabric reinvigorated his hard-on; too many lingerie catalogs and Penthouse fantasy layouts in my formative years, Johnnie mused. He carefully arranged the separated halves, then repeated his handiwork on her skirt, ripping it up the middle from hem to waist, neatly framing the still-soaked and shredded panties that covered but did not conceal her shaved pussy.

“Her motor’s not running,” Johnnie rued. Easy enough to fix… he reached up and rudely pinched her nipples; this caused her to stir, a moan escaping her. He bent down and blew gently on her crotch; her lips unfurled, needing little provocation in her still-woundup state. “That’s better.” He finished the roll and grabbed his bag just as she began to wake. “Oh yeah, almost forgot.” Johnnie pulled out a box not unlike the one he’d sent her earlier, this one with the underthings she’d need for her big shopping weekend. He couldn’t believe he was going to wait three whole days before dipping her again, but he had work to do to get the photos developed and the Web site going, and he needed to concentrate.

Faith awoke just in time to hear the front door rattle closed against its electromagnetic security plate. She straightened up slowly as her stiff muscles fed her brain damage reports. When her eyes focused on her image in the wall mirror, she collapsed to her knees in shock. It wasn’t a dream!

She didn’t know how long she lay there; the room just kept spinning; she couldn’t catch her breath. Eventually she settled down and took stock of her situation. It was… ten thirty! according to the phone clock. The lights were still on; how long had she been out of it? She looked out the front doors to the parking lot; her Corolla looked lonely in the distant sodium light.

“No sense hanging around here,” Faith heard her words echo loudly. She pulled herself to her feet — and noticed she was minus one shoe. Her mind flashed back to the last time this happened; she’d fallen over, unaccustomed to the height of her white slingback pumps. The image faded and she returned to the present, looking at her shoed foot; it took her a minute to recognize there was a shoe there, it being clear plastic. An invisible pedestal, just like this desk, Faith mused. She looked about and spotted the other shoe on the desk and slipped it on. The mental fog was lifting; she looked about, gathering up the two boxes next to the chair. As she turned to head for the bathroom to tidy herself up, she was confronted with her reflection in the back wall mirror. It took her breath away. Tidying up was pointless; she’d been Barbied beyond recovery. Electric yellow, translucent, skin tight, torn, maribou-trimmed, matching hands and feet, perched atop two small clear towers and posing next to one large one. It was almost art. “It’s almost too bad nobody took pictures.” This thought sent a chilled-and-thrilled shiver through her.

Faith minced her way out to her car as quickly as she could. The door didn’t open; she needed a key. Where was her key? Right, in the pocket of her skirt… not this one, the one I had on this morning… in the box. Faith frantically dug through the box, feeling around the ruined white skirt in search of the pocket, digging the key out, dropping the box. Door open, boxes thrown in, jumped inside, door closed, car started, tires squealing, finally getting away from that place.

Well, there was no denying that she was dressed like a cheap slut, and she knew she hadn’t dressed that way that morning. But how could she explain her transformation? It didn’t make any sense. It made her brain hurt to think about it. “Well, I can’t report it if I can’t explain it. I don’t want to lose my job.” Report it to whom? The police? Well, it was a rape, wasn’t it? Images flashed through her mind; the way Johnnie took her, the way he looked so handsome and powerful standing over her, the way she pulled him to her…

Bright lights and an angry horn startled her back to the present. If it was rape, why did she remember being so willing, so turned on? There was no violence, no struggle… though she remembered being handcuffed, it only turned her on more. “Drugs. In the Thai food. I don’t know how, but I’m going to get even with Johnnie and Cliff. They think they can just use me like that…” her hands gripped the wheel of her Corolla more tightly; she felt the pattern of the fishnet gloves press into the heels of her hands. She glanced down at herself. “I look ridiculous!” And yet…

by TOXIS
This is a mistake. I never should have taken their money but it was so much
money. When was I going to make $1 million in one year ever again? I was so sure
I was doing the right thing. Now look at me.
Let me back up. Eighteen months ago, I was the newest partner in a major New
York law firm, only 26 years old, one of the best and brightest. I was drop dead
gorgeous but in a professional way. I knew it too knew. In college and law
school, I kept getting offers to model. I turned them all down because the real
money, the big money is in international trade. So I spent all my time at fund-
raisers for politicians hosted by Far East business types. Korea, Singapore,
Hong Kong, Japan — especially Japan. So closed, so male dominated, so very much
money to be made there.
I had noticed something that I was sure I could use. Of course, when I went to
one of these trade things, I was dressed like a movie star — only the very best
designer gowns, exactly the right accessories. Everyone looked but Japanese men
stared. They ignored the other women but they talked with me. They paid
attention when I said I was becoming an attorney. Some gave me their business
cards and told me to call them when I was in practice. When I did, they hired
me. Small matters, true, but unlike most new lawyers, I walked into my new firm
with clients.
I made partner in 18 months. Fastest ever, male or female. In fact, I was asked
if I was interested in opening one of a series of Far East offices. It looked
like Japan was taken but I had my choice of Thailand, Korea or Bhuttan. No way
was I taking a backwater. I called Seiji Herakini, president of OTTII
Industries, and explained what was happening. Seiji is a major client. He wanted
me in Japan and expected the firm to give him what he wanted, including 100% of
my time if that’s what he needed. In short order, I was in Kobe with the firm’s
managing partners to meet with Seiji and firm up our planned services for his
company.
Seiji was having trouble establishing a modern image for his old line specialty
steel facrication business. He needed an attorney who would be part of the team
effort to break the mold and create a new identity that attracted the younger
purchasing managers in his customer base. I had to be totally on board with that
concept and the firm had to recognize that I was putting OTTII before it and
myself to get this done. I was very enthusiastic and grudgingly the old fools
running the place agreed. Well, I thought then that they were fools. Now, they
look pretty smart. I had good reason to be enthusiastic. Seiji had given me a
bonus agreement that paid me $400,0000 after six months and $1 million after a
year if I met all goals. I did have some reservations when I read the bonus
goals. It struck me as odd that I would have to (1) learn to speak Japanese in
the manner OTTII wished, (2) learn Japanese etiquette the same way, (3) accept,
maintain and wear the wardrobe supplied (at no cost) by OTTII, (4) comply with
OTTII’s exercise schedule, (5) adhere to the personal appearance (hair, makeup,
jewelry, perfume, etc.) designed for me by OTTII and (5) be available at OTTII’s
convenience for publicity video, photography, personal appearances, interviews
and the like. I would be paid an additional $10,000 to license my personal
likeness to OTTII.
When I asked, Seiji’s PR assistant explained that the Company intended to put
its most noteworthy people out in the public’s eye, explaining OTTII’s
commitment to change. They wanted to be able to exploit those executives who
made the greatest impact. I figured how can I lose. I get better than $1 million
for doing what the legal work they want and letting them take my picture while I
do. With any luck, I would be a celebrity when I came home.
After two weeks, I was worried. No one gave me any work. I sat in my office and
waited for something to happen. Nothing did. I was getting more and more nervous
when a Miss Sanjuko introduced herself. She apologized for the delay but
everyone was so busy. She was my designated OTTII mentor. I read a letter from
Seiji explaining that Suki (her first name) spoke with his voice. I was to
follow all of her directions faithfully, immediately and without question. I
imagined Seiji in a military uniform giving orders. I made a small joke to that
effect but either Suki found it not funny or she had no time for humor.
Tea arrived. I thought it was too bitter but Suki insisted we have some to start
our relationship. I finished mine but now, I can’t remember if Suki ever really
touched hers. She explained that we had several appointments that afternoon. I
got up to leave when Suki stopped me to say that I would have to change into the
clothing in the conference room.
In a few moments, I was looking at myself in the mirror. I felt a little dizzy,
disoriented is the better word. I was dressed in a most revealing micro-mini.
The jacket was a little neon-blue bolero over a white, sleeveless, ribbed
turtleneck. My stockings were white with matching blue platform pumps, sporting
five inch heels. Suki pulled my hair back and under a blue satin baseball cap,
my long blonde ponytail bouncing away. There were OTTII logos on the cap, on my
jacket buttons, even on my shoes. My hands felt awkward as we winded down a
crowded street in the Ginza. I usually carried a briefcase. We stopped at a nail
salon and soon I had one-inch tips with white, blue and black swirls. A gold
OTTII logo was crazy-glued dead center in the middle of every nail. Then, I was
sitting in a different salon’s chair, getting my hair cut.
I have very thick, dirty blonde hair. I curl it because its so straight. First,
they washed and conditioned my hair twice and parted in in the middle. Using a
laser (I swear to God, a real laser), they trimmed my hair mid-way between down
my shoulder blades. I had to wear special glasses when they did my new bangs –
heavy but only to mid-forehead. Using a little penlight laser, they trimmed my
eyebrows into skinny arches. As we left, the receptionist handed me a pair of
sunglasses. Suki indicated that I should try them on. The lenses were very
oversized and tinted a light blue. I thought that I could see images, words very
faintly in the lenses. The obligatory OTTII logo was on the lower corner of my
right eye and where the white and black frames came together. The rest of the
morning became a blur. We stopped at a make-up shop, and there were accessories
and scarves and gloves. I was carrying a big square black patent pocketbook done
up to imitate a briefcase. It had the OTTII logo as the clasp.
I caught my breath when we arrived at the Japanese tutor. She was at least 70
years old and nasty. Hokimini-San would going to teach me Japanese manners and
language. I would learn. I would be punished if I was stupid or lazy. No lie,
that’s how she talked. Her English was perfect, if too stiff but she was pretty
stiff herself. We began with walking.
Take little steps. Hands at your sides, wrists forward as you walk. Hips swing
all the time. Chin up. Smile. Lean a little forward. Let your rear stick out in
back a little. Whenever you talk, touch you mouth. Whenever you meet a man, look
down first, smile, look up without lifting your head, smile again, touch your
mouth and say hello.
All the time, I had to repeat the things she was teaching me to say.
Homikini-San explained that Japanese was a very old language. It had three
levels – the honorific for speaking to Buddhist priests and the Royal family,
formal for speaking to one’s betters and the vulgar, the language of business. I
would learn the vulgar. It contained many expressions that had evolved over
time. Expressions that taken alone might be considered offensive but now were
perfectly acceptable, indeed required.
I walked across the room to a full size photo of a man and said (in vulgar
Japanese) “It is good to see you again, Mr. Smith. I hope that looking at my
sexy body gives you a big erection.” When I balked at saying something so
humiliating, I found myself on her front steps on a busy street, wearing a dunce
cap and repeating “I am a very stupid and lazy female. I hope my sexy body gives
the men who see me big erections so that I will not be entirely useless.” I was
so embarrassed whenever anyone looked at me. At the time, I didn’t object; it
seemed normal somehow.
Sitting at a meeting, someone finishes their coffee, I get up. I shimmy to the
man’s place and lean forward. I do not bend my legs. I take the man’s empty cup
and say “I do not understand the important things that you men discuss and I
will make myself more useful by filling your coffee cup. I hope you like the way
my tastelessly short skirt shows off my sexy body.”
Then we came to giggling. Homikini-San says that I must learn to giggle. Never
laugh. I must giggle to show that I approve of what men are saying. I can show
that I do not understand, that I will do as told, that I am finished a task,
that I want men to look at me and find me sexy, that I am awaiting their next
wish. I never giggled in my life. Well, maybe when I was like five and in
kindergarten. Have you ever walked up to a complete stranger (male, of course)
on a public street … you come close, taking mincing steps in your five inch
heels.. Your hips swing as you go … you look down at the man’s shoes and count
to two, look up under batting lashes … smile, touch your lower lip with your
right hand … hold your left hand out sightly, wrist up, begging …<giggle>
“Sir, I am very silly and I do not know where I am.” <giggle> “Can you tell me
how to go to my work? I will be punished when I get there because I am so stupid
and lazy.” <sigh, giggle> The man usually laughs I hated that they were allowed
to laugh when I could not. “I see you work for OTTII. A good company. You are
very lucky to have such a good job.” I smile. “OTTII is the best, most modern
company in the world. I do not deserve to work there but they are kind and will
give a person with no good education like me a chance.” They like to ask me
about America. “I come from a very dirty and degenerate city where women are
rude and useless. I am so glad that I am in Japan and can act properly.”
Homikini-San would be a step behind me listening. There is always a pot of tea
going. I sip a little all day. I used to feel confused a lot, spinning almost,
but that settled down. If I don’t have a cup of tea every so often, I feel sick.
Homikini-San was always after me. If I fudged a single insulting line, if I
failed to smile at one condescending remark, I would be punished.
I followed Suki from the Mercedes to the grandstand. I could hear the sound of
motors, race cars. Yesterday, she brought me to a salon that specializes in
make-up. My face is very pale now and painted much like a doll’s. My hair was
tinted a silvery platinum. It falls thick, silken down my back. If my hair was
black, from behind you would think I was Japanese. I wished many men big
erections when they saw my sexy body in my tasteless clothes. OTTII is the best
company in the world. I am too stupid to understand and too lazy to deserve such
a good job. I jumped up and down when OTTII cars won. And I never stopped
giggling.
In the car, I told Suki that I had had enough. I had been thinking about it – or
thrying to – for a while. Turning me into some sort of Japanese Barbie doll was
not part of the deal. Give me my $500,000 and I was out of there. Suki explained
that the firm had been required to post a $1 million bond against my
performance. If I quit, the firm had to pay the million. When I transferred, I
had signed an agreement with the firm that I was responsible for losses caused
by my failure to adhere to the terms of my deal with OTTII and Seiji. She said
that if I quit, I would be ruined for life. I had to ask her to repeat what she
said because it was really complicated. I thought I got it on the third repeat
and got so totally like made and I cursed. I tried to hit Suki, but she knocked
me down easily.
Homikini-San took a wide wooden paddle to my ass while Suki watched and took
pictures. Homikini-San took pictures of me kissing Suki’s high heeled toes. I
was dressed in a way-too-tight T-shirt. My belly was bare. There were little red
vinyl hot pants, white anklets and knee high white, platform soled, six inch
heeled boots. I stood on a busy corner in front of a popular sushi restaurant.
The restaurant’s name was on my T-shirt. I held a big poster showing the menu.
“Eat at Honji’s Mountain Restaurant. The sushi is more succulent that my sexy
body. Watch me while you eat and show me how big you are.” I knew what I was
saying and said it all day, and the next and the next.
On Thursday, Suki noticed that I had run out of resistance, simply did not hold
back. I minced about. I smiled at the men and said all the humiliating things I
was told to say. I watched the men coming out and congratulated those whose
buldging hard-ons were evident. I found myself at the race track in my horrible
corner girl outfit. Men were drinking and smoking cigars. Suki pushed me to my
knees before a young man in a dark suit. I looked up at her, confused. “Eat
him,” she directed. Blindly, I fished his thickening rod out of his pants and
put it in my mouth. Suki began to instruct me. When to suck him in and when to
pull back. Suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks. Look into his eyes. Suki
taught me what to say, how to say it. Put his hard cock against my cheek.
Giggle. “Oh sir, I love the taste of your member in my mouth. It is so big that
I can hardly contain it. Please let me swallow your tasty sperm. I know that I
will have a big orgasm myself.” Why did I say it? I guess by now I knew that
whatever Suki said was right. She was always right and I was just too silly and
confused to know anything. I didn’t see her with the palm-sized digital video
camera, framed to capture me only. I saw the video later. I looked like a
complete slut.
After I swallowed the first man’s cum, I thanked him. Suki had me offer myself
to the remaining men. I wiggled out of my hot pants while they watched. I spread
my legs and rubbed myself so that they would not have to endure a dry hole. I
told them how wet I was getting. In turn, I mounted them and gave each a wild,
bucking ride. Suki critiqued my performance until I was exactly what she wanted,
a giggling, insatiable whore. At least on video.
I sat in my room, dejected, pouting. How could this have happened to me? I was
too smart to be trapped like this but I felt trapped. All my clothes, my shoes,
my make up, jewelry, the shows that came over cable TV, the music I could play,
what I could read — Suki picked them all. Mostly, I watched auto races. I read
cheap romances. I dressed however Suki wanted me and went where she took me. I
got used to the sex. I was so bored and it was the only fun in my life any more.
I started to enjoy the sex. I found myself trying to look sexier that Suki had
decided. On the street, I looked to see men stare at me and smiled, happy now,
when they did. Lots of them had big erections, all for me.
I sat very still when Dr. Hajji, a Pakistani, did my lips and nipples. Japanese
women would not do this and certainly never see a foreigner. Suki explained that
I did not matter because I was not Japanese, so a foreign doctor was okay. He
was cheaper and he did a lot of work for foreign girls who were not pretty
enough. I am very pretty. I do not need anything done to me. I begged Suki not
to do this to me but whipped my nipples until I begged to see Dr. Hajji and
pleaded that Suki guide me on just what I needed to do in order to make men
think I am pretty. My lips are very full now. I have D cup breasts naturally but
now my nipples are very thick and jut through all of my tops. Even the leather
bras.
“I am very pretty now. I can see my nipples. They are fat and men know that I
always want to have sex. Men will want to put their big members in my mouth
because my fat lips looks like I have a cunt on my face.” No exactly Shakepeare
but repeat it in front of a mirror long enough and it grows on you.
Seiji saw me in his private conference room. I was in my newest OTTII uniform. A
neon blue thong-cut unitard that came under my breasts that were covered by a
skimpy white bandeau. The obligatory OTTII satin baseball hat, white boots, big
glasses. Now, I wore big disc earrings made in the shape of the OTTII logo.
Everything was OTTII. Even my hair. Streaks of neon blue and black had been
painted in my hair. Suki had drilled me for the meeting for a week.
“Oh, Herakini-San, I am so excited to see you.” When I was a lawyer in New York,
Seiji had been my close ally. I am in Japan and I have learned how wrong I am.
Herakini-San is a powerful man, a demon god astride Mount Fuji. I am a stupid,
lazy girl. Suki beat it in to me. I am inferior to all men. I am no attorney. I
am no partner in my firm. No man wants a silly girl as a partner. Men do not
respect me. They do not listen to the useless ideas that float aimlessly in my
empty head. I giggle helplessly and approach Herakini-San. My feet take tiny
steps. My left hand flutters like a butterfly begging for attention. The painted
long nails of my right hand trace a slow arc across my lips. I look down. I did
try to resist. I stopped drinking the tea and I was very sick but I was not so
confused anymore. I tried to escape and Suki brought me back. She put me in a
brothel and made me beg for men to please. No one wanted me. I could see their
big erections. I asked to suck them. I told them I was very good. They ignored
me. On the pavement by the entrance, I wiggled my hips and showed men my shaved
cunt. They just laughed at me and went by. I was so excited and wet but no one
would take me.
Suki took me to a photographer. Japanese love to take pictures of their women in
bondage. I was dressed in ropes and leather and rubber and vinyl … beaten,
fucked, pissed on. Lots of pictures. Suki made sure that I smiled in lots of
them. No escape now. Not with those pictures. Law firms don’t have women
partners who pose for dirty, nasty pictures of men pissing on them as they smile
and drink it down.
“Herakini-San, my tight pussy is very wet just being in your presence. Do my big
nipples and sexy bottom give you a big erection?” Herekini-San laughs and claps
his hands. “You have done excellent work, Suki. I particularly like her
Japanese.” I do not understand but that is to be expected. Suki explains that I
do not speak Japanese like a real person. I speak like the cartoon girls on the
anime shows on TV that I am allowed to watch. My voice is much too high-pitched.
I speak to quickly and prissily to be anything other than a silly girl. I do not
know any other way to speak. What can I say?
“What is your name,” Herakini-San demands. I blush and giggle. Suki changed my
name about a month ago. I still hate it. Riki. It’s a dirty joke. Riki..usually
pronounced as “Lickie.” I’m a little licky girl. “My name is Riki,
Herakini-San.” I pronounce my new name, as Suki prefers, saying “Lickie.” “Do
you like working for OTTII, little Riki?”
“Oh yes, I love OTTII. It is the best company in the world. I would do anything
for it.” Herakini-San smiled and I was not so much afraid. “That is good. You
see, we have a problem. The most famous symbol of OTTII are its racing cars.
People all over the world know OTTII because of its race cars. I wanted to have
a special Race Queen for my race cars. I tried to hire an American girl like you
but they were all disrepectful and rude. I am pleased to see that under Suki’s
attentions you are well behaved.” I blushed again uneasily, not at all sure
where this was going. It was so hard to concentrate.
“So I have a problem, Riki who is so helpful. You can stay and become my newest
Race Queen. I will put you in many new costumes and you will be at all of the
races. I will put your face all over Japan and you will be famous. Or you can
leave. You know what your agreement provides. I have contacted your firm and
they wish you to remain here.” Herakini-San looked at me closely. I could see
his enormous erection tenting his pants. Suki reminded me that I was not smiling
and hurriedly I giggled and simpered.
“I will allow you to sign a new contract replacing your present one. Our
agreement has five months to run. I will cancel it and you can sign a new one. I
will still pay you a million and change the term to three.” Herakini-San looked
to Suki. “Tell Riki how this is better for her.” Suki made me stand on a little
pedestal. I repeated what she told me to say. “This is a much better
arrangement. I want to be OTTII’s new Race Queen. I want to stay. I do not want
to go back to America. I will be famous and everyone will know me. My name is
Riki, only Riki. Thank you to OTTII and Herakini-San for this opportunity.”
I asked what the million meant and what three was – days, months? Suki spanked
me and made me sign. Even though it wasn’t true, she made say how happy I was
with my new agreement. It was all on digital video. Before I was back with my
teacher, that bitch Hokimini-San, a carefully edited video of my recent
reeducation and new life was streaming to my old firm.
The agreement was for three years and I was paid a million yen. After taxes, the
cost of new uniforms, training fees and the like, I owed OTTII about $400,000
US. The engines are roaring. It’s a very big race. I am wearing my latest
uniform. It changes regularly. My new DD cup breast are molded in big, high
orbs, jutting through my blue latex cropped T-shirt. White latex hot pants,
thigh high boots, tall heels and thick platforms. My hair is pulled to the top
of my head and comes out the hole in the top of my pretend race helmet. Logos
everywhere. I carry the tray of drinks over to Herakini-San and his guests. They
are all powerful men from America. They are not as smart and powerful and
Herakini-San but any of them is smarter that a silly Race Queen like me.
I set down the drinks. I giggle and catch their eyes. I trail my long nails up
my thighs. I touch my hard nipples and my pouting lips. I ask in Japanese “Would
any of the gentlemen like me to attend to their beautiful members? I see that I
have given them huge erections and it would be rude of me to not help them.”
Suki translates into English. I wear earplugs under my helmet. She has turned
off the sound so I do not know what she has said. I only speak cartoon Race
Queen Japanese. Suki tells me that several want to use my mouth. I giggle and
work my way carefully down the line. I know the next man. He seems almost afraid
to use me. I beg for the honor and Suki translates. I want to run away. I do not
want to be shamed this way. What will these men say tomorrow?
“Please, sir, use my mouth. I am very good and many men have told me how much
they enjoyed my mouth.” I smile, near tears. Suki is watching me like a hawk. He
nods and I go to work. Soon, he is thrusting his hips up and I can feel his
orgasm overcoming him. I begin to buck my hips and moan as if I too am
orgasming, just from the pleasure of sucking him off. Carefully, I clean him off
and restore his clothing. I go to the next man and leave the managing partner of
my old firm.
Tomorrow, he will tell everyone what I have become. Not just a model in Japan
but a business whore. Suki has me sign papers. Some are in Japanese, some
English. I cannot read them. Suki explains that I have resigned from my firm and
as an attorney. I have signed powers of attorney to her that will let her sell
everything I own. I have signed another paper directing that she spend all of my
money on my future education. Another paper changes my name to OTTII Riki.
Finally, I stand in front of two men – one Japanese and the other American. Suki
makes me say that I renounce my American citizenship and ask to be a citizen of
Japan. More papers are signed, by me, by them.
In another room, Suki explains. You are OTTII Riki now, only her. You are
Japanese. You are a Race Queen and Herakini-San’s personal plaything. You speak
only Japanese. You are a nothing girl and you will do as you are told.” I could
run back to my American friends, ell them what was done to me, beg for their
help. But Herakini-San would only offer them money to forget me and they would.
Now, I am OTTII Riki, the famous Japanese Race Queen. I am waiting to see the
doctor. He is going to do my eyes. Not slanted in a beautiful way, a Japanese
way. Big eyes like the anime, pop-eyes, staring, vacant. Then, they will start
on my hips, stomach and thighs. Sculpting me. My tits are so round and full;
it’s as if someone sewed big, hard balls inside them. OTTII is making me perfect
like its race cars. Gleaming, a pleasure to use and drive well. If you write to
OTTII, they will send you my new poster