Simone was a volunteer

By DX

Copyrighted 4/2001, 7/2024 all rights reserved.

Simone's whole body quaked as she again tested the chains that held her; arms up, legs spread, exposed to the audience that surrounded her. She could feel the heat of the lights aimed at her, yet she shivered nonetheless as she looked down at the tray of diabolical instruments laid out before her. Tools that were to flay her alive.

Dr Zim stepped forward like a circus ring master, her red, latex lab coat gleaming, her black gloved hands upraised for silence. "Masters and Mistresses, let me introduce our main event! Her name was Simone, a most special prize. Not only is she beautiful, but a woman who knows what she wants. And what she wants is to entertain you with a demonstration, never seen by any audience. Tonight, Simone will be skinned alive! Her hide will be tanned to make a new catsuit for me." Dr Zim swayed her hips demonstrating how sexy she would look with the form fitting leather suit, swatting her shapely derriere. "She's been injected with stimulants to insure that she stays conscious throughout the ordeal, but nothing to dim the pain. Then afterwards, her raw flesh will be whipped for your sadistic pleasures!" Dr Zim smiled as she donned her surgical mask and protective goggles. "Isn't this what you volunteered for Simone?" 

Simone shook her head frantically and screamed incoherently into her jaw breaking gag.

Dr Zim pouted a frown. "Aw, poor Simone," She smiled as she held up her scalpel. Its keen edge reflected the light and blinded Simone, filling her vision with grey. "but you did volunteer, didn't you?"

——

The sky was grey and angry, threatening to rain as she made her way quickly through the dilapidated buildings— the blank stare of the blackened windows were the only witness to her passing. Following the directions, she found the rusted warehouse door open, almost welcoming. The heels of her pumps clicked ominously on the greasy metal floor. Above her, steel hooks glinted dully in the dim light. It had been more than a hundred years since anyone had used this meat packing plant and it was the most unlikely place to find executive offices for an international corporation.

But it was the perfect place for white slavers.

After a harrowing ride on the barely functional freight elevator, Simone, following the shaft of fluorescent light that filled the hall, found the office of Dr. Zim. Simone knocked timidly on the doorframe and peeked in. The secretary looked up, her sapphire eyes sparkled, but held a distant, thousand-mile stare. Her face was as smooth and fair as porcelain, framed by a cascade of spun gold hair.  Her lips curled in a gentle, bemused smile were full, and oh, so kissable… the color of blood. 

Simone found her breath still in her lungs as she beheld the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Simone's voice trembled. "Um, I'm here to meet with Dr. Zim.  I have an appointment."

The secretary nodded knowingly and rose from her desk, motioning with her hand for Simone to have a seat. As Simone did, the secretary stepped over to a door and with a soft knock, stepped in. Simone watched the secretary's deliberate motions, her distant stare, her too perfect eyes, and realized she was blind.   She functioned with the parameters of the office memorized. Her face was probably a mask, the girl underneath gagged. Her hands were only fingerless mittens.

Simone shuddered. She had searched the wildest clubs, the exclusive Internet chat rooms, and followed the stories that everyone said were nothing more than an urban legend, fantasy too the extreme. Some had lied to her, others told her to seek psychiatric help, and some, a select few, had clues for her to follow, clues that led here, to the fulfillment of her fantasy.

She waited.

Fifteen minutes later the secretary returned, motioning to Simone to enter the inner office. Simone smoothed out her tight skirt, squared her shoulders and walked in. Chin up, eyes ahead she marched directly in and stopped before the desk of Dr Zim. 

The oriental woman looked up from her lap top, her green eyes taking in the woman before her. She smiled, almost mockingly. "You are more beautiful in person." Her voice was smooth as cough syrup. "A nice body,” She turned and tapped on her keyboard, nodding to herself. "Sit down." She said as she rose and came out from behind her desk, leaning on it. "Most of our clients are, uh, appointed to the position: a sibling in the way of an inheritance, a troublesome wife. Most are criminals, others are parasites on society. People who no one would notice gone. We don't get volunteers here." She lowered her gaze. "So tell me, Simone, why are you here? "

"To be a slave." Her voice was tiny. "A real slave, a total slave."

Dr Zim scoffed. "There are countless of masters who would love to make you a slave, why did you seek me out?"

"I don't want fur lined cuffs." Simone answered. "Or safe words. I don't want limits to be respected, I don't want limits. I want the real thing. Every master I have ever met is afraid to test the range of their imagination. I want no limits."

Dr Zim laughed breathlessly. "Do you now?" She smiled, her eyes sparkling slits. "But do you know what a slave is?"

Simone searched for an answer. "A person who wants to give another person pleasure."

Dr Zim shook her head. “A person who wants?  No, no, no…  A slave has no wants.  A slave is meat. Nothing more." She motioned with a tilt of her head. "Do you see my secretary? She's useless. I keep her around because it pleases me to watch her suffering. She's blind, sexless, horny and helpless to do a thing about it. Do you know what she looks like under that mask? Nothing, nothing at all. Her head is only a blank, smooth orb. In fact, her whole body is an androgynous form. I operated on her and sculpted her in the image that amused me. Taking that beautiful body and face away pleased me. I took away her eyes last so she could watch the transformation. Her pleading eyes crying as her beautiful body and face fell beneath my scalpel is what pleased me. 

“The face she wears is her face. After I removed it from her, I had it treated in a Bio-lex chemical which turns skin into a supple, latex form. I did that to her whole body giving her a latex body. Smooth, featureless. Her wastes are stored in the empty space where her sex organs used to be. I can let her go for weeks, watching her swell up like a pregnant mother until I am ready to empty her." Dr Zim smiled proudly. "I mock her with her own face. She does not want to be a slave, but she obeys because she knows that what I've done to her is nothing compared to what I could do to her."

Dr Zim lifted a heavy Lucite block and dropped it into Simone's lap. Simone looked at the block, shivering at what was frozen inside. A breast. A perfect breast in shape and size with a pronounced, suckable nipple. "That is a real breast. I think the mark of a woman, how she is viewed and judged, is what her breasts look like. We can fool ourselves to think it’s her hair, or dress or how she walks, or how smart she is, but I know it’s her breasts. I see her will and resistance flitter away as I cut off her breasts." Suddenly Dr Zim leaned forward and slipped a hand down Simone's neckline and grabbed a firm hold on Simone's breast. "Mmmmm, you have lovely breasts. I will enjoy adding them to my collection." She gave Simone’s breast a small pinch. "I can feel your heart beating, pounding." 

She let her go.  She rose and stepped behind her desk. "I can see that you've liquidated all of your possessions and transferred them to my account." She said looking at her computer. "You can follow instructions, that is good." She looked up at Simone, her eyebrow arched skeptically. "But do you still want to be a slave? My slave?" She held up a finger to stop her answer. "Since it is so rare that we get a volunteer, that I will give you a choice, possibly the last choice you ever make." Dr Zim reached into her drawer and took out a pair of handcuffs, ankle cuffs and a red ball gag. "I am going to leave the room. You can get up, walk out of here and resume your life as a real person. The money that you put is my account will be your punishment for being a fool." She looked at Simone, her green eyes penetrating. "Or, you can strip naked, put the ankle cuffs on, then the gag, and then the hand cuffs on in front of you." Dr Zim stepped from behind her desk. "I give you five minutes to decide your destiny. Choose wisely."

Simone watched as Dr Zim left the room with her secretary in tow. 

Simone looked at the breast paperweight and imagined if it was her own.  She shuddered at the thought. She rose and set it on the desk.

With trembling hands she slipped out of her dress.

She gasped as she felt the cold metal circle her ankles and ratchet closed. With shaking hands she opened her mouth and felt the gag against her teeth. She pushed harder, and stretched her jaw painfully to force the ball over her teeth to settle into her mouth. She buckled the gag tightly even though she realized the gag was so huge she couldn't spit it out anyway. The handcuff, glistening polished steel, well oiled, well used, encircled her wrist and tightened one click at a time.  With each click, her heart skipped.  She clicked them closed until they fit snugly against the bone.

It was done.

Simone waited. She stood at attention, eyes straight, chin up.

She had no way to track the time, but she knew five minutes had surely past.

Then ten, twenty. Finally Simone sat in the chair. She sat at attention, back straight, hands in her lap.

An hour passed before she heard Zim's soft laughter come from the hall and the voice of another woman. Simone sat up, alert, surprised she had slouched. ‘Bad slave’ she scolded herself. Simone felt goose flesh on her naked skin as she heard the doctor's voice behind her.

"She's still here? I thought for sure I'd spooked her off. This is that volunteer I told you about, your grace."

The Duchess stepped in front of Simone, taking a look at her. "She is quite beautiful." She mused. "I just love her eyes." She cupped Simone's chin and lifted it up for a better look. Simone looked up into eyes, green like a jungle leaf.

"Do you like them?" The doctor asked. "I'll have them mailed to you." She touched the intercom. "Alice, bring in the box."

Simone was still lost in the expansive, expressive eyes of the Duchess, unable to look away from the woman's beauty. "What would I do with just her eyes?" The Duchess let Simone go. 

"That's your business." The doctor said stepping over. She waved at Simone. "Slave, stand up." Simone snapped to her feet as Alice wheeled in a trunk. She positioned it in front of Simone and undid the clasps. The top and front came away.

The Duchess leaned on the desk, out of the way. "Listen, I've been approached by the CIA."

"Going back into the spy business?" Zim turned Simone around, her back to the trunk. "Sit your ass in the back of the trunk, pull your knees to your chest and drape your wrists about your ankles." She ordered.

Simone was a slight girl but she had to squeeze her way into the box, settling all the way in. Zim then took a rod and passed it through one side of the box, under Simone's knees but over her arms, to the other side of the box where it screwed in securely.

"The CIA wants to build a bordello." The Duchess went on. "They want a total house of debauchery to entertain foreign diplomats. They will provide Madams who will wheedle secrets, and I will provide girls as the entertainment." The Duchess looked down at Simone. "I think with a few of your magical modifications, she would make a great little sex toy for some ambassador."

Dr Zim strapped a cannula into Simone's nostrils. "I promised the Baron  my very next slave and this little girl is it."

The Duchess scoffed. "Didn't you already give him the perfect oral toy?"

Dr Zim, her eyes sparkling, looked up. "Beautiful, isn't she? Well, like all my sex toys, all facial features are removed, leaving her head a smooth orb, but in this case, I saved the mouth. After pulling all her teeth, I gave her the most luscious, fat, suction lips and gums with the mouth and throat reconstructed to the ultimate love sheath. I then grafted the perfect latex face, I think I used a copy of Alice's face, onto the head. Beautiful work. The Baron can take his doll out into public. People just pity the beautiful blind, deaf, and mute girl and have no idea she's one of my masterful creations." The doctor bragged. "Well, as I usually do with my dolls, I remove the sex organs and any possibility for her to have any gratification. I find my dolls are more attentive to the needs of others when there is no possible way for them to obtain any gratification for themselves. I implant a chip to stimulate hormone production so dolly is internally and eternally driven mad with insatiable sex drives. This gives them plenty of energy to perform. Then, to make her the perfect oral dolly, I injected genetically altered parasites into her intestines that feed on the Baron's DNA coded sperm. It prevents her from digesting anything else. She digests the parasites when they're big enough. So ultimately, she needs the Baron's sperm to live and soon she is conditioned to crave it.

"Well, the Baron said he was looking at his little asexual doll, the smooth featureless crotch, and decided he wants that space for another oral cavity." Dr Zim glared at Simone. "So, I'm going to be taking Simone's pretty mouth, throat, and most of her brain, invert it, and transplant it into The Baron’s slave to create the world's first oral pussy." She smiled as she watched the horror creep onto Simone's face. "That's all that will be left of you my pretty. Blind, deaf, your sense of smell and touch, all gone.  Your brain will be kept alive by your new host’s blood supply.  You’ll just be new tissue.  You’ll be alert and aware and after conditioning, you'll be dedicated to sucking the Baron's fat cock as he fucks you and gets oral pleasure." She looked up at the Duchess. "Isn't that a brilliant idea? Simone has the perfect lips for sucking, don't you agree?"

"Don't you think that's a little wasteful?"

Zim laughed. "I'm going to skin her alive and tan her hide for a new catsuit for me to wear. The rest of her organs will be auctioned on the black market, no waste at all."

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A Fantasy to Life

By DX.

Copyrighted 12/2000/2020 all rights reserved.

Dr Marcus held her hands up, trying to shield her eyes from the bright camera lights. "Take it easy on the lighting, I just woke up!"

The reporter shoved the microphone back into the elder woman's face. "So you deny that you’re running a slave farm, Dr Marcus? Performing illegal surgical procedures on your innocent and unsuspecting victims?"

Dr Marcus tried to peer thought the brilliant lights to see. "Slave farm? Did you see any guards? A lock on the gate? You got in here easy enough with your ambush crew!" She tried to see which one of them was the light man. "Can we be civil adults for a moment and stop blinding the poor old doctor?" The light man re-directed his bright strobe and the doctor nodded her thanks. "I have nothing to hide. I'll answer any of your questions. I take my tea at this time. Sit." She motioned to the couch as she came from around her desk to relax in the easy chair.

The reporter sat on the edge of the couch, her microphone still in the doctor's face. "My sources say you are performing unorthodox surgical procedures on women, grossly altering their bodies into freaks of nature and selling them to overseas black markets. What's your response to that

The doctor seemingly ignored the reporter as she looked up. "Ah, Carol my assistant with the tea. Please, help your self to some tea and cookies."

Carol walked majestically, balanced on sky scraping ballet boots that flowed into her longer than the law allowed legs capped with a perfectly shaped mammoth derriere. Her hips sashayed as she walked, accented by her tightly corseted, tiny, tiny waist. The reporter sympathetically gasped, unable to believe that the girl could breathe with such a small waist. Stacked atop her wasp-sized waist were her killer breasts that must have been over-inflated with helium to prevent the girl from simply toppling over. She had a long, swan neck, delicate and regal, adorned with a wide band pearl choker. Her face was a beautiful doll, perfect in shape. Her almond shaped eyes of green, expansive and expressive, sparked with delight as her full, puffy bow lips of crimson hinted an amused smile as she leaned over and set the tray on the table, insuring the cameraman had a very clear view of her canyonous cleavage.

The reporter pointed. "That is what I'm talking about! That's not human!"

Carol smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "Oh, I am very human, Miss. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name when you stormed past me."

"Brenda Winters." She said curtly and turned back to Dr. Marcus. "Is she the result of one of your sick experiments?"

The doctor sat back in her chair with her cup of tea, nibbling a cookie. "Miss Winters, allow me to introduce Dr Carol Chambers, one of this nation's leading neurologists. She is currently conducting advanced research in mapping the parts of the brain using nanotechnology."

Carol gave a curtsy then turned to the crew. "Please, do try the cookies, I baked them myself." While they helped themselves, Carol faced Brenda. "I was a mousy, short, flat as an ironing board geek before I asked Dr Marcus to make certain improvements on me. I set the dimensions, she did the rest."

Brenda gasped. "You set the dimensions?"

Carol stood to her full height, flexing her arms to make her breasts swell. "66-18-38. I wanted even more extreme numbers, but the doctor suggested I start slow. My immediate goal reach 70-15-38." She closed her eyes and let out a moan. "Mmmm. That would be so hot!" Her eyes flashed as she thought. "If it were possible, I would have even more extreme numbers. My spine has already been re-enforced to handle the extra weight of my breasts and the heavy boned corset keeps me from simply folding in half. My neck has been gradually lengthened to this sensual length. This pearl choker is actually a specially disguised neck brace and is the only thing that keeps my head erect."

Brenda blinked in amazement. "Why would you want that?"

Carol was surprised the reporter didn't know. "To be beautiful, of course." 

Brenda shot a harsh glance at the doctor. "Whose definition I wonder…”

Carol tsked. "Mine of course. When I look in the mirror, I marvel at the object of desire I have become both inside and out. My vagina has been re-modeled into the ultimate pleasure machine. My anus modified to stretch to accommodate objects as big as ten inches in diameter. The nerves in my clitoris now ring both vaginal and anal openings so that I receive pleasure from both. My lips are redesigned to form the perfect suction, and my jaw reworked so I can perform fellatio for days on end without tiring. I even have hidden pads in my knees so I can kneel for extended periods. The nerves in my mouth are enhanced so that I receive pleasure from giving oral sex. Even my tongue has been lengthened to allow me to please the ladies as well." She gave a sly wink and smiled at the crew that stared wide-eyed at her. "Perhaps I can give a demonstration of my talents, you know, as background research for your article. Any volunteers?"

"Down boys." Brenda hissed at them, then looked at Carol. "And where does this stop?"

"I am almost the image of my dreams. For my ultimate goal I hope to have a breast size of 100 and a waist of 14." She shivered. "Oh, the idea drives me wild. Most of my spine will have to be fused. I will be unable to sit. I will only be able to stand or lie flat and I will need assistance to go from one position to the other. My crowning event will be removing my arms."

Brenda almost choked. "Remove your arms?"

Carol nodded. "The suggestion of helplessness. I think that's the ideal bimbo form. A goose like neck leading into smooth shoulders sloping into exaggerated breasts, a breath of a waist and a firm, spankable bottom with long, shapely legs. " She looked at the cameraman, sound man and lighting man sitting on the couch. "Don't you guys think that would be beyond hot?" Carol gave a dubious look. "After my arms are removed, my mouth will be reworked so I will be unable to speak. My teeth will be removed and my gums fattened spongy soft. My vocal cords will be only to create a vibrating enhancement for the love canal that will be my throat. I won't be able to muster a frown, only a pleasurable, a perfect China doll face and smile. My pheromone production will be enhanced so that any male or female within a few yards of me will be unable to resist but take me and have their way with me. I will be helpless to do anything but comply." Carol eyed the crew. "You all want me now, don't you?"

When they silently nodded, Brenda glared at them. "Remember, you’re professionals." She growled, then turned to Dr Marcus. "So instead of sending her to a psychiatrist for extensive therapy, you made her into your personal love doll." She accused.

Dr Marcus scoffed as she munched another cookie. "She's an adult, quite capable of deciding what she wants to do with her life and her body. It’s people like you that enforce the stereotypical expectations of what her female role should be. You want her to be strong and dominant. But she clearly doesn't want that." Dr Marcus took a sip of her tea. "Besides, she has a PHD in psychology. Who would I send her to?  Herself?"

"And most importantly," Carol interjected. "I'm happy! Every time I look in a mirror I am overwhelmed by my appearance. Thrilled!"

Brenda only glared in disbelief. "Aren't all these operations painful?"

Carol smiled warmly. "What isn't? Diet, exercise, denial." Carol's gaze lowered. "Tell the truth, when you get home the first thing you do is kick off those shoes and take off that bra. Carol nodded slightly. "Everything we do hurts. I'm in pain right now, but at least it’s pain that I want. I look in the mirror, or watch the expressions of those around me, staring openly, unable to turn away, and I'm on cloud nine. We use Nanites, tiny machines the size of a molecule, to assist with the surgeries. It cuts healing time in half. The nanites can attach themselves to glands to control the chemicals in the body to allow natural modifications as well."

Brenda turned hotly at Dr. Marcus, sneering. "Obviously she's not right in the head. How can you call yourself a responsible doctor?"

Dr Marcus sighed. "Look, why don't you and your crew take a stroll around the grounds. Every door will be opened for you. No secrets. Carol will be your guide. Spend some time with her and you'll see she's a normal, well adjusted woman."

"Overly adjusted. Brenda mumbled.

The doctor glanced at her watch, ignoring the reporter. "I'm due in surgery at ten and I want to prepare. Why don't you come to the observation deck and you can watch one of my... As you would say, creations."

Brenda Winters stood up, tugging on the lapels of her pants suit. "I'll do just that."

Dr. Marcus dipped a cookie into her tea, then nibbled it. "And take some of these cookies with you, I'll devour the whole plate if you leave me alone with them."

Winters' camera crew filled their pockets as they headed out. Their first stop was the outer office where a very pregnant woman groaned painfully as she slowly arched her back, her hand on the small of her spine.

“Margaret," Carol scolded. "you shouldn't strain yourself."

Margaret looked up from her filing, a smile crossing her face. "Oh, no bother." She was a startling beauty with enhanced features. Even in her final stages of pregnancy, she was a very desirable woman. With her incredibly sized breasts, long swan like neck and long legs that ended in tiny, tiny feet (which were bare), it was obvious that she was a product of Dr. Marcus.

Brenda waved her crew over. "Get a shot of this." She ordered as she put her mic in the girl's face. "Tell me, Margaret is it? Tell me, when are you due?"

Margaret's face crossed with confusion, then she smiled understanding. "Oh, I'm not pregnant!"

The reporter blinked with disbelief. "Oh, I'm sorry, I uh..."

“It's okay." Margaret said. "I know I look pregnant. I had Dr. Marcus perform the surgeries to do it." She massaged her swollen belly. "My 'baby' is nothing more than fifteen pounds of saline packs. I've been taking hormonal steroid boosters which has caused breast growth and lactation. That and facial and body sexual enhancements." She smiled sheepishly. "I hope it pleases my husband."

Brenda smelled a story. "And who is your husband? Is he forcing you to undergo these obviously painful and permanent changes to your body?"

Margaret looked alarmed. "Oh, no! It’s nothing like that. I haven't found a husband yet."

Brenda's face lost all expression. "You mean you’re doing this in hopes of finding a man with a pregnant woman fetish?"

Margaret smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "Uh huh. I just hope Dr. Marcus finds someone soon. I'm fully recovered from the operations and I can't wait to have someone to please."

"Actually, Margaret..." Carol interrupted. "I didn't want to spoil things until everything was finalized, but we've found a match for you. An oil baron in Texas. We've just finished the background checks and the interviews. He's the real deal and can't wait to meet you."

Margaret's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really! Oh, Carol, I'm so happy!"

Carol fished a photograph from a folder on her desk. "Here's what he looks like."

"Oh, I don't care what he looks like." She said, glancing at the picture. "But he is good looking."

Carol nodded. "And hornier than a desert toad in heat." She said in a Texan accent. "Your flight is tomorrow afternoon for your first chaperoned date." Carol handed the girl the folder. “It's all in here.  If you guys hit it off, we can scheduled more dates and see where this goes."

Margaret face was streaming with tears. "This is so wonderful. How can I ever thank you and Dr. Marcus?"

Carol hugged the teary girl and gave her a light pat on her belly. "You just did. Now get your stuff together and tonight we'll have a celebration dinner." She pulled away. "I'm going to be showing these people around so hold my calls, okay?" When Margaret nodded, Carol turned to the reporter and her crew. “Let's step outside."

As they stepped out into the warm spring air, Brenda noticed a jogger coming up the trail. At second glance, Brenda realized it was a girl, obviously one of Dr. Marcus' creations, with another girl riding on her back.

"Ah, Clarice and her pony-girl, Wildfire." Carol said. "Good Morning!"

Clarice reigned her pony and saluted with her crop. "Ma'am." 

Brenda put out her microphone. "I'm doing a story and I'd like to ask some questions." She turned to the pony. 

Wildfire was a very tall, muscular girl.  Her smooth skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. She was bald, save for a brilliant mane of red hair. Her face was outlined in a complicated halter and bit system. Her head was forced erect by a stiff, wide collar that was bolted to a steel strap which ran down her spine that was bolted to the steel corset that nipped her waist to almost nothing. 

Her shoulders were beautifully rounded, faint healing scars where her arms had been surgically removed. Her breasts had been squeezed through heavy metal bands, eight inches long and three inches in diameter. Heavy metal rods pierced the base of the bands, though her breasts, and bolted securely to the other side to prevent the bands from ever being removed. Her stretched out breasts were fat heavy dough balls that rested on the flat of her stomach. Her nipples were pierced with heavy, gold rings welded closed. From those rings, stirrups hung. 

From the back of the corset, a saddle protruded allowing a rider to rest between her shoulder blades, the weight distributed along the length of her spine. Although the saddle was removable, there were no catches or buckles for the corset. It was permanently welded to the girl's body.

At the base of her spine, a plume a red hair erupted. The girl could swish it about. Her ankles were arched and the balls of her feet ended in hooves, surgically grafted to her feet. Her eyes flashed green with anger. 

Brenda looked at the rider accusingly. "She doesn't look very happy. Is it because you've forced these cruel operations on her?" 

Clarice snorted in disgust, obviously insulted. "She isn't happy because you've interrupted her favorite past time. Her morning run. I didn't force anything on her. She's always wanted to be a pony-girl. I bought her all sorts of costumes and wagons for her to pull, but when she found out about Dr Marcus' little Spa here, she was an unbearable slave. I finally had to give in. She wrote down all the alterations she wanted and the good doctor made them. Now if you look down you'll notice that her corset melds into a panty between her legs. Well, it drives against her sex so she gets a sexual thrill when she runs." Clarice sawed the reigns as Wildfire started stamping her feet, wanting to run again. "Easy girl." Clarice cooed." She looked at Brenda. "You wonder who is the mistress and who is the slave sometimes. What she needs is a good stallion on the grounds for her to play with. Her pussy has been moved back to allow easier penetration while standing up and I don't think she can wait to try it out." Clarice shot a glance at the sound man who was staring intently.

Brenda tried another angle. "And why remove her arms?"

Clarice set her lips, bothered by Brenda's accusatory tone. "Pony-girls don't have arms." She said as a matter of fact, trying to maintain an air of civility. "Human's have hands to manipulate their environment, Pony-girls must depend on their owners for their care." 

Brenda looked at the bit gag, drawn deeply into the girls mouth. "Can she talk?"

Wildfire let out a whinny, and stamped her feet again.

"Other than horse sounds, no. Her mouth has be restructured so she can no longer make human sounds. But the sound she's making is horse talk for: 'Lets ride!'" Clarice saluted with her riding crop and with a click of her tongue, they were off again.

Brenda watched as Wildfire took off at a fast canter, carrying her rider effortlessly. "Where did Clarice find that amazon?"

Carol continued her walk. "You're getting it backwards. It’s Wildfire that sought out Clarice. You see, Dr Clarice Witherspoon is an endocrinologist, and used nanites to stimulate the glands that produce growth in the body. Wildfire is her test subject."

Brenda shook her head disbelievingly. "So Wildfire subjected herself to untested medical experiments to fulfill her fantasy to be a pony-girl?"

Carol beamed. "Precisely!" 

She turned to the rear of the building where a large pool was. "Here we have Samantha, our mermaid." The cameraman aimed his camera into the blue waters trying to focus on the grey streak slipping effortlessly though the water. Samantha turned suddenly, cresting the water and skimmed by them. Her facial features were smoothed, leaving her head an almost anonymous oval shape devoid of hair or any real features save her full, strong lips which smiled at her visitors. She had a most entrancing, exotic look. Her arms melded into her sides, virtually vanishing into her tiny waist, her legs melded into one, powerful limb tipped with a broad fin which powered her through the water. She let out a cheery squeal of rapid clicks and dove into the depths again. 

Carol faced the group. "If any of you fell like a little swim, Samantha would insure you the best of times." She winked. "She loves a good frolic in the surf. Apart from her obvious external modifications, she has had all of her teeth removed and her mouth reworked to the perfected sucking machine. She also has a slit in her underside that when stimulated opens up to form the perfect pussy. It suctions you in and her muscles do all the work. All you have to do is lie back and enjoy it. Unlike mythical mermaids that lure sailors to drown, ours can provide a mouth to mouth airway, drawing air from her blow hole in the back of her neck which crests the waters surface. It's a most erogenous experience, submerged in calm waters, her pussy working you. Not only can she digest fish, swallowing them whole, but she can also process human sperm both orally and vaginally! To her, it's a treat, like candy." Carol nodded at their stunned and lusting faces. "Perhaps when the tour is over one of you would like to give her a little treat? Hmm?" She turned. "This way to the barn. I think you'll get a kick out of this."

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The New Girl

By DX

Court ordered Bimbofication!  Crazed surgery!  Can Danielle’s defiant spirit save her?

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Copyrighted 02/02/03, 6/5/2023 All rights reserved.

When I acquired Danielle from the Prison she was a fiery, defiant spirit; but that didn't concern me as I simply drove her right over to Dr. Marcus' Clinique. 

We arrived just in time as the faint clunks from her thrashing around in the trunk became incessant and annoying.  When I watched her struggle in her bonds as my assistant and chauffeur lifted her from the boot of the car, I remained stoic, distracted, and a little bored, as if surgically modifying criminals into sex toys was an every day affair.

Her words of hate were blocked by the heavy leather muzzle tightly strapped to her face.  Her eyes flashed, and shot their arrows at me.

Despite my air of coolness, I couldn’t help but drink deep from the well of her gaze.  Those eyes! Beguiling, enchanting, captivating, struck like a cheap shot to the gut.  

As my assistant wrestled to latch on to those long powerful legs, bound together with Gaffer's tape, I studied their curve, their journey to lost, fantasy regions.

They finally grabbed ahold of the trashing, kicking girl and the two of them, along with Dr. Marcus' assistants, secured her to a gurney and wheeled her inside, her eyes of fury still seeking me out, only flickering to fear as they brought her into the operating theater.

It was only then, not jail, the court, the judge’s sentence, that she questioned her choice of volunteering for alternate sentencing.

Terror filled her as the gown clad staff entered the room.  The two doctors reviewed her procedure, and casually pointed to where the amputations would take place, her arms, her legs, the modifications to her face and throat, to her tender, quivering pussy.

"She doesn't look like a Hacker." Dr Marcus startled me with her sudden presence, standing at my elbow.

"She was a Social Hacker."  I explained, my eyes still locked on the display through the one way mirror.  "She flirted with corporate execs and tech staff to worm passwords or personal data from them, and then gave that information to her boyfriend who did the actual hacking and did billions in damage and destroyed the lives of a similar number."

She nodded.  "Well this will put an end to that."

I watched as they put her under.  She struggled to stay conscious, to fight to the last.

When she finally slipped into unconsciousness they removed the gag and for the first time I got a good look at her face.  Helen of Troy!  How men would rage war for her!  Captivating!  Lips full of passion, soft, succulent.

"I originally planned to do the whole procedure at once."  Dr Marcus began suddenly.  "But they're very evasive procedures."  Her eyes, sharp and crystal blue flashed up to me, reading my thoughts, my hesitation.  "That, increases risks.  Tell you what.  We'll do the basic stuff and you can bring her back in a few weeks for the rest.”

“Whatever you think is best, doctor.”  I replied.

In the recovery room, I watched Danielle's eyes flash open, searching in near panic until they found the mirror on the wall that the staff left for her.  I can not imagine the horror she must have felt when she realized her arms had been removed at the shoulders.   How helpless she must have felt at that moment.

Her mouth was filled with a glistening steel ball, a Pierce Gag.  A heavy gauge rod had been pushed through her cheeks and through the ball, keeping it in place.  Large locking lugs secured on each end where nestled in her darling dimples and welded shut.

It was only a start of the modifications that Dr Hugo Maxxe, Dr. Marcus’ colleague, who specializes in face and throat reconstructions had planned. 

For now, all he did was adjust her palate and tongue, making intelligible speech impossible.  She could only murmur and purr.  A few bones in her jaw and ear canal were adjusted so that they vibrated horribly if she made any noise above a soft mew.  A normal speaking tone would cause her extreme pain, like a hot brand across her temples, and a scream was surreal agony as she immediately discovered.  Soon she would be conditioned to her new levels of volume and simply incapable of anything more than sensual moans to communicate.

As I watched her, I watched her indomitable spirit drain, as I knew it would.  She broke, there in the recovery room.  Her head was a torrent of agony from her fresh and extensive operations compounded by her short lived screams.  It was all too much for her soul to bear.  All that arrogance!  Gone!  Like the snuffing of a candle flame.

She sobbed dry tears. 

Dr. Maxxe had re-routed her tear ducts, nipped a few nerves in her face and adjusted a few muscles.  The only expressions she was allowed were a delicate Mona Lisa smile or exuberance.  Happiness or agony displayed the same face of delight.  Watching herself in the mirror, terrified, wrapped in torment, she appeared overjoyed.

She had yet to see the worst of it.