The B-Gill 2000!
Guillotine.
Breast.
Bacon.

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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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Copyrighted  3/2024, all rights reserved.
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Princess Irony

By DX

Copyrighted 10/2001, 2/2024, all rights reserved.

Irony.

Princess Natalia knew all about irony.  It was all she thought about. 

Irony. 

As she lay in bed and stared at the silk canopy above her, the word filled her thoughts. She had commanded conquering armies, held the life and death of a nation at her whim, yet now couldn't even get out of bed without assistance.

Irony. 

A small word that meant so much.

The Princess's royal maids drifted soundlessly into the room like specters and silently roused the handmaidens.  The bed warming handmaidens uncurled themselves from around the Princess, backfilling thick warm quilts around her Highness to keep the heat, then softly, like ghosts, clambered out of bed.  They quickly dressed in the near dark while the royal maids prepared the room.

They performed their duties as if the Princess Natalia was still sleeping soundly, even though they knew she was wide awake.

With everything in place, the head royal maid opened the heavy curtains and filled the room with pure, white light.  It was then the royal maids began the delicate routine of helping the Princess out of the gigantic royal bed, while the handmaidens waited patiently on their knees beside the bed. 

Natalia watched the near blank faces of the royal maids move around her.  The royal maids held no hint of smugness, no snide impudence.  They performed their duties mechanically, and expertly.  Natalia could only imagine what they were thinking.  She had ordered their mouths surgically removed a few years ago.  She had forgotten what slight they had committed, doing it mostly on a whim.  It probably wasn’t because one spoke out of turn, they knew the punishment for that would be quite severe, and more likely one of them had looked a little too longingly at the Princesses’ royal cupcake before it was thrown into the trash.  ‘How dare they dream of eating from Our royal plate!  You will take your soupy gruel through a rubber hose from now on!’

And the royal surgeon saw to it.  Just as she had taken away their sex organs, leaving them smooth androgynous.  One of them had bigger breasts than her Highness, so she had them removed.  She did both maids because she treated them as a matched set…but then they looked too much like boys, so she had fake breasts, round and obvious, implanted in their place. 

Mocking them.

Now, as they eased her to a sitting position, she wondered who was mocking whom now

Irony.

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Bimbo!  Bimbo like me.

By DX

Shiloh is driven to make herself the ultimate sex doll.  Can she stop herself from becoming a cock sucking bimbo?

Copyrighted 6/2016, 9/2023 All rights reserved

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 Shiloh paused, and peered out the window to admire the beautiful girl standing there.  She had cascading golden hair that framed her perfect, sculpted face.  She had wide, summer sky blue eyes perched atop blushing cob apple cheeks.  Her tiny chin was nearly obscured by her soft, puffy, pointing lips, glistening like strawberry candies.  She had a long, regal neck that towered above her massive breasts that shifted beneath her tight sweater like two, water filled beach balls.

 A flash of jealousy tinged Shiloh face as she marveled at the woman’s bosom.  She cupped her own mounds, so big her arms couldn’t fully embrace them, just as the woman standing out side her window did, obviously sizing up Shiloh.

 She waved to the woman at the same moment the woman waved at her.

 Shiloh blushed, as did the woman in the mirror, embarrassed she was being so silly at her own reflection.  She checked her tight dress, sliding her hand down her curvy backside.  As she did, she noticed her hand.  It looked seemingly odd to her it was there.  She then remembered she had an appointment to have the Doctor remove her arms next week.  Arms were superfluous and distracting.  She didn’t need them or want them.

 But she did need feet, she thought, and she bent at the waist to see her shoes, but her breasts blocked the view.  She was sure she was wearing her high, ballerina toe shoes since the room felt much shorter.

 Taking her time going down the stairs, her massive breasts sliding about, she felt she was forgetting something.  Something important.

 Then she remembered when she saw him standing in the foyer.  He came everyday and let her suck his cock until his hot liquid shot across her tongue and down her throat.

 It was all she wanted.  It was all she ever wanted.  At least, it was all she could remember.  She had hazy dreams of when she was an Executive Vice President, when she had an MBA.  Images of affording a beautiful house, a sleek expensive car and a fat, well-funded stock portfolio, flittered just out of vision.  She could see a face she didn’t remember, her face, before her eyebrows were tatooed on, before she had her teeth extracted and her gums injected with silicone.  She could remember speaking and being articulate because her lips weren’t packed with implants making them squishy doughnuts.

 She watched him lay back on the couch and the fire between her legs began to build.  She had the Doctor remove her vagina and clitoris, leaving only a tiny pee hole.  It only gave men the option of fucking her ass, but she couldn’t risk not getting that savory cum in her mouth.  The operation to remove her sex was only cosmetic, so she was horny, outrageously so, but it was nothing compared to the driving hunger of sucking his cock.

 A hunger greater than her impassioned hatred for him.


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Copyrighted 6/2016, 9/2023 All rights reserved