A Sense of Taste

Story by DX
Art by Hæritic

Copyrighted, 5/2024, all Rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without author’s permission.

 The most remarkable thing about Dr. Marcus, was how unremarkable she was.

 As we drove down the winding, topiary lined drive, we were given views of wagons pulled by ponygirls dressed in shiny leather tack.  In the lobby was a giant aquarium filled with mermaids.  As we sat in the study waiting for our meeting with the doctor to begin a woman with massive breasts moved by and milked herself for our coffees.

 Dr. Marcus and her team were the masters of body modification.  They didn’t nip tuck, but performed full body reconstructions to transform a subject to match their wildest fantasy.  Nothing was beyond the doctor.  Amputations?  Easy.  Breast inflation?  Go big or go home.  A vagina where a mouth should be?  You bet, but why stop at just one vagina?  

 It was all daily routine for her.

 She was a handsome woman, her face gently aged.  She had soft blue, mirthful eyes that peeled away what ever they looked at.  While her assistant pranced about on the tips of her toes with longer than the law allowed legs and a waist so narrow I could encircle with both hands, made to appear even smaller by her zeppelin sized tits which she carried as easily as if they were filled with helium, the doctor herself was slim, with the curves of a boy and the poise of a water buffalo.

 “Dr. Webb, Dr. Lee, Dr. North, thank you for coming on such short notice.”  She said, greeting us and shaking our hands.  “I realize my correspondence was vague, and to make matters worse we have a very limited availability to study this phenomena.  The subject in question is on loan, for lack of a better term.  If you will follow me down the hall, I think a demonstration of the phenomena will be more effective as to what’s going on.”

 “Can you give us any indication as to what this phenomena is?”  I asked, following her down the hall.

 She opened a door and ushered us into a room.  “Honestly Dr. Lee, I can’t explain it, but somehow, the blind can see.”

 We stepped into a dimly lit observation room.  It was sterile, save one wall with an expansive window, obviously a two-way mirror, which viewed into a second room.  The room was brightly lit.  The room we viewed was lavishly decorated in a victorian style.  The walls were decorated in beautiful paintings, and the windows were adorned with luxurious drapes with braided pull ropes and tassels.  A couch, with plush cushions, was in the center of the room.  A coffee table made of hand carved ebony was in front of the couch.  There was a great, high backed chair with an ottoman before it to the left of the couch.  To the right of the couch was a floor lamp with glowing torchere.  In the back left corner was a small table with a large porcelain vase from some Chinese dynasty.  

 Our subject of inquiry, and strikingly out of place for the rest of the decor, was in the back right corner.

 The enormity of her breasts was the first thing I focused on.  Her nipples were pierced with half inch thick rings that appeared welded on.  Anything smaller would have looked odd on her titanic breasts.  I imagined that if she tried to reach out and wrap her arms around her breasts, she couldn’t manage to clasp her hands together.  

 It was then I realized she didn’t have arms.  They had been neatly removed at the shoulder.  

 As my mind spiraled at the idea, I continued my survey.  The woman’s head was sealed in a tight leather helmet.  The helmet had no features I could see, save a space for her mouth.  Her lips, thick, puffy, and round like a doughnut, protruded her mask.  Every few seconds, her tongue lashed out and licked her fat lips.

 The mask extended down her neck, highlighting its swan like length.  A thick leather collar was wrapped snuggly about her neck.  A tiny padlock hung from the collar and secured it in place.

 Beneath her mammoth breasts was a leather corset which accentuated her narrow waist and callipygous hips.  She had muscular legs, that ended in leather ballet shoes which kept her feet en-point.

 Apart from her helmet, corset and boots, she was naked.

 She stood unmoving, and waiting, only occasionally licking her lips.

 “Dr. Marcus,”  I began, but she silenced me with a hand.

 “Please, Dr. Lee.  In good time.”  She said with an assuring smile.  “I would like you all to enter the room.  There’s a bit of tape on the floor where I would like you to stand.”  She looked at me.  “Dr. Lee, I would like you to go in first, for reasons which will be made obvious in a moment.”  She then looked to my contemporaries .  “Dr. Webb and Dr. North, organize yourselves as you will.”  She gestured at the room.  “Just walk in, stand on the tape, and wait.  Please do not talk.”

 We glanced at each other.  Shrugging, we formed a little line at the door.  I then entered the room followed by Dr. North, with Dr. Webb as the tail.  We found our clearly marked spots easily.

 We stood there.

 I counted ten-seconds before the woman in the corner moved.  She turned her head towards us, then walked in tiny balanced steps to our right.  The space was available, but with her giant breasts, it became quite narrow.  She paused, then retraced her steps and went to the left.  She then adroitly turned and avoided the great chair and ottoman, and slotted past the coffee table.

 She approached me.  I almost took a step back to avoid colliding with her breasts, but at the last second she turned sharply and stepped over to Dr. North.  There she stopped and turned to face him.

 It was difficult to ascertain her thoughts through her featureless leather helmet, but as she stood in front of Dr. North, occasionally licking her lips, she began to make her intentions clear.

 She kissed her lips at him.

 She then began a slow, rhythmic dance, shifting her shoulders and hips, jiggling her tits.

 Dr. North was fit to be tied and looked to me for direction.  I was intrigued.  Observing the helmet up close, I could see there was no way she could see, yet she navigated the room easily.  I concluded she had memorized the room.  Yet, she walked passed me, the only woman in our little group, and settled on the first male she encountered.  Dr. Marcus insisted I be the first in the room, so again it was all memorization.

 But that was too simple.

 I nodded to Dr. North.  ‘Go on.’

 He waved his hands slightly, unsure.

 I mouthed, ‘Anything.’

 He did the logical thing.  They were right there in front of him.  He reached out and caressed the sides of her giant breasts.  

 Her reaction was instant and obvious as she lit up like a firework.  She stepped closer to him, nodding as far as her collar would allow, and kissed up at him.  He reached up with his hand and she leaned forward and wrapped her heavy lips around his finger and began to suck.

 Slowly, deliberately, her tongue lashed out and drew him into her steaming mouth.

 Trying to remain professional, Dr. North looked to me for guidance, but I didn’t interfere.  Dr. Marcus brought us here for a reason.  There was a phenomena to be observed and I wasn’t sure what it was.  I glanced at the room.  Comfy furniture and a relaxed environment, I had to see this through.

 I pointed to the couch.  ‘Go’.

 He looked at me uncertainly, but the woman was already half turned to the couch and almost trying to drag him there, what she wanted was obvious.

 Slowly, like a condemned prisoner, Dr. North allowed himself to be lured to the couch.  There, he sat, and she beside him.  She leaned over and with her lips and tongue tried to undo his pants.  After a frustrating minute, Dr. North reached down and undid his pants.

 She quickly brought her mouth around his penis and drew it in.

 From our position, there wasn’t much to see, just her head bobbing slightly, and Dr. North’s walls of professionalism crumbling into rapture.

 I nodded to Dr. Webb, and we headed out of the room to give them a little privacy.

 We watched from the observation window.

 “How much can she see through that helmet?”  I asked quickly.

 Dr. Marcus shook her head.  “The helmet is irrelevant.”  She said like a professor to a wayward student.  “At her request, her eyes were donated.  They’re gone, replaced by silicone implants to maintain structure in her eye sockets.  A young woman in the Dominican Republic can now see.”

 I gaped, and glanced to the window and watched Dr. North reclined with his eyes closed.  “She’s memorized the room.”  I said, stating the obvious.

 “She’s never been in that room before.  She was let in the room moments before you came in.”  Dr. Marcus countered.

 I blinked, astounded.  “Pheromones…”  I randomly stated, glancing at Dr. Webb for support.  He was preoccupied watching the woman nodding her head ever so slightly in Dr. North’s lap.

 Dr. Marcus watched them through the window with a medical detachment.  “There are two holes where her nostrils are.  Two tubes run down past her sinuses, one to her lungs for breathing, the other down to her stomach for her hydration and nutrition.  Her sinuses are filled with an expanding resin.  She has no olfactory senses.”

 “What?”  I whispered.

 Dr. Marcus nodded.  “The nerves to her eardrums have been severed.  She can’t hear.”

 “Why did you forbid us to talk?”  I countered.

 She gave a half shrug.  “Eliminating variables.”

 I watched Dr. North for a moment as I thought.  I checked my watch.

 “She’ll make it last.”  Dr. Marcus answered my unasked question.  “Stimulation will promote ejaculate production.  As you know, men store very little ejaculate in their epididymus.  Most is produced during the stimulation process.  She wants a big load, so she is going to take her time.” 

 I checked my watch again, then glanced at the doctor.  “Sight, hearing and smell are gone… touch?”

 The doctor nodded.  “What you see as skin, is actually Nanotex, a nanite produced quasi-latex fabric that is permanently bonded to her skin.  The leather you see is just textured Nanotex to look like leather.  She can feel pressure, but has zero tactile recognition.”

 I watched her working on Dr. North for a few minutes, wondering if he was going to survive the experience.  “She navigates through her sense of taste?”

 Dr. Marcus nodded.  “That’s the guess.”

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Copyrighted, 5/2024, all Rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without author’s permission.

Magic Fashion

By DX

Copyrighted, 4/2015, 2018, 12/2023 all rights reserved.

Eva’s eyes lit up as she held her breath.  Nervously, she watched the men raise the sign with her name boldly, delicately, emblazoned, above the wide and expensive window of her new storefront.  

Loans and debt allowed her to buy the old boutique and she wasted no time clearing it out.  Her cheeks dimpled as she set her lips and hauled crate after crate of dry-rotted fabric from the basement and tossed them out.  She found several sewing machines, embossers and embroidery, and pulled them apart.  She smelled of oil and age as she he gently chased out the spiders and dust, and refurbished the machines to go back into loyal service. 

She spackled, painted walls, waxed floors, and installed new light fixtures to be ready for her approaching opening day.

With the last of her funds she ordered some mannequins; nouveau, sleek and blank, they would be perfect for her high-tech fashions.  Faceless, shapeless, they were merely fancy hangers to show off her talent.

With one day to go, she stood at the door with a crumpled letter in her hand.

Her mannequins were on back-order.

Still defiant, she looked around slowly.  Finished outfits, haberdashery, and accessories surrounded her with nothing but boring shelves to display them on.  Her big, brown eyes blinked back a budding tear as she again descended into the basement. 

In the back corner, piled unceremoniously in an aged crate, were a collection of old mannequins.  She had dismissed them before for not being the cutting edge look she wanted, but as she pulled them out and tried to assemble a whole one, she figured she could paint them, a flat black perhaps, and they would do in a pinch.

They were busted, and cracked.  Their paint was peeling away, and mice nests filled their hollow spaces, but Eva bit back her frustration and dug into the pile.  Her hopes shrank as she only found more broken arms, legs and bodies.

Determined, she cleared the pile away.

Eyes peered back at her, green and wet, like a jungle leaf in the rain.  Shrouded in plastic, Eva lifted up the head and torso and found the arms and legs beneath.  The word, Lynnette, was embossed on the shoulder.  Her make up was from the 50’s.  Her lipstick was a coppery red, which highlighted her full lips.  Her eyes peered seductively beneath long, long black lashes, her eye-shadow was a deep burgundy.

She was bald.  Eva couldn’t find the wig, but she didn’t care as she carried the parts upstairs and assembled her.  With a sponge and soapy water, Eva bathed Lynnette and cleaned off the oily residue of dirty mouse prints to get the mannequin ready for paint.

As the sponge washed her face, Lynnette’s eyes flashed at her prettily, and Eva’s plan of spray-painting her into an anonymous model flittered out of her head.

Lynnette was beautiful.

Eva set her in the window and then spent the rest of the night putting together her paramilitary ensemble: slick midnight grey with epaulets and pocket flaps, and a nipped waist short coat that enhanced Lynnette’s perfect breasts, a revealing short skirt with cargo-pockets, and high heeled, knee length, military boots.  

As the night sky tinted with morning blue, Eva dressed Lynnette and gently slid the garments on.  Then, she laced the boots up on the mannequin’s incredibly small feet.  Last, she clasped a cargo-belt around Lynnette’s hips, slung at an angle like a gunslinger, and finished with a small leather pouch with brass enclosure, perfect for a phone and keys. 

Her eyes blinked swollen and tired as she beheld Lynnette.  Being bald, only added to her sharp, military presence.  

Eva put Lynnette’s cap on the doll’s head and the outfit was done.

She tried to stifle a yawn and failed.  As she made her way upstairs she glanced back.  Lynnette’s eyes twinkled in the early morning light.

Eva dismissed it as tiredness.

When she awoke she saw the shadows had slid across her room.  The clock told her she still had four hours to go before the opening, so she plopped back down.

And the knock came again.

She roused quickly and went down stairs.  There was a woman at the door peering through the glass, rapping incessantly.

“I’m sorry,”  Eva answered sleepily,  “we’re not open yet.”

The woman pointed at Lynnette.  “How much?  I’ll take it!”

Eva blinked.  She was still asleep, she must be.  She blearily opened the door and the woman marched in and peered at Lynnette from another angle.  She flicked her fingers and her credit card magically appeared.  “You do alterations?  I’d have the bosom let out.”

Eva hadn’t even considered a price, and as her mouth sagged open to speak, another woman blew into the shop.  “Twelve hundred!”  She brandished her credit card like a cross against vampires.

“She was first.”  Eva replied, astonished.

“Then when can I have one made?”  The second insisted.

Eva feebly pointed to a clear area.  “I’ll get your measurements.”  She then looked to the first.  “Give me a few moments and I’ll have you try it on.”

While the women discussed where they would be wearing their outfit to avoid being at the same event, Eva, still foggy from lack of sleep, stepped up into the window and undressed Lynnette.  As she did, she noted the tiny flecks of white paint in the mannequin’s eyes that gave the illusion of a bit of glint, a bit of life.  She wondered how she didn’t notice them before.

Once the women were gone, Eva quickly put together one of her designs and dressed Lynnette in time for the opening.  Local politicians, some freelance reporters, and a handful of movers and shakers showed up to get their picture taken at a ribbon cutting ceremony of a young girl and her new shop full of ambition.

And the dress Lynnette wore sold for two thousand dollars.

The sewing machine clattered like a machine gun as Eva put together another dress, a deep blue formal gown, so Lynnette wasn’t naked.  Sliding it up over Lynnette’s hips, Eva felt the hard plastic press against her as she braced the mannequin to keep it steady.

Zipping it up, Eva brushed her hand against Lynnette’s midriff to smooth out the dress and check the fit.  Satisfied, she patted Lynnette’s butt and dashed out of the store to buy a wig.  When she came back, a woman was outside the shop waiting to buy Lynnette’s dress.

Dress after dress, everything sold on Lynnette.  Even when Eva’s blank mannequins arrived, Lynnette, and her new copper red hair, sold and sold and sold.

One night, as Eva put the final touches on Lynnette’s outfit, a safari one piece with rolled up sleeves and trousers made from sweat-wicking micro-fiber, she leaned in to adjust Eva’s copper wire hair.

Lynnette’s head turned and kissed her.

Soft, warm, wet, Eva was stunned paralyzed, surely dreaming.  She must have fallen asleep at her sewing machine.  She didn’t fight as she felt Lynnette’s arms sweep up and embrace her, and pull her into a wonderful kiss.

Lynnette kissed her again.  As they parted, she flashed mirthful eyes at Eva and winked.  Eva watched her step away and look around in wonder.  She watched Lynnette touching herself, poking her soft, real flesh, cupping her boobs and jiggling them, amazed at the movement.

Shocked, Eva watched her in stunned silence.  She was so beautiful, and… alive!  Sparking to action, Eva decided to go to her and show her around the shop…

She couldn’t move!

Panic seeped into her consciousness as she tried to imagine what was going on.  She felt her skin had become plastic and her body as still as stone.

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Copyrighted 3/2024, all rights reserved. May not be reproduced without author permission.
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A New Doll

By DX

Copyrighted 6/2003, 8/2023 All rights reserved.

Annette wanted to be a rich man's plaything, but he was looking for a new toy.

 Annette lay in darkness.  She could feel her face gel and stiffen.  Her skin was rapidly transforming, becoming smoother, perfect, plastic.  Despite her pounding heart, soon she would be paralyzed, trapped within her own body, a doll's body. She could barely struggle, and soon her restraints would be unnecessary.  She had to communicate somehow, escape this coffin before it was too late, before she was nothing more than a toy. 

 She suddenly thought it funny; to be a play thing, and if she could, she would laugh.  Being someone's play thing was what got her in this mess in the first place.

 Candlelight danced magically in the ice water as the waiter again filled her glass.  Annette sighed angrily as she looked at her watch.  Robert was late for their date and he was going to pay for it.  A new fur coat, a diamond neckless, Annette would have no problem guilting a prize out of him.  As she mentally made a list of new prizes, she looked up and her heart stopped.

 Madge strode in, almost charging straight at the table.  "You and I must talk."  She said taking a seat.

 Annette sat up, stammering.  "Mrs. Chambers," She put up a weak smile.  "What a surprise to see you here."

 "Cut the crap." Madge hissed as she dragged her cigarettes from her purse.  "I know you're here to meet my husband."  She lipped a cigarette and lit up.  "I know all about you two."

 Annette coughed from the stream of smoke.  "I don't know what you're..."

 "I'll move this along for you."  Madge went on.  "I left the message for you to come here.  Robert doesn't know you're here."  She took a drag.  "I have a business proposition for you.  You can have Robert.  The house, the cars, the yacht, everything.”  She flicked her ash at the center piece.  "What's he giving you now, an apartment?  Lewd dates and lousy quick fucks?  How about it all?”

 Annette was speechless as Madge went on.  "I'll spell it out.  Due to a pre-nuptial agreement if I divorce him without cause I get nothing but the stole on my back.  If I have cause, say proof of an affair, I'll get about five million for an initial settlement and several million a year in perpetuity.  I think I can live with that.  The hard part is the proof.  You guys are clever."  Madge sat back and dropped her cigarette into her water.  "How's that for a deal?  You give up a cheesy apartment in exchange for a villa in the Alps, I get some cash to comfort my pain.  All you have to do is drop me a little jingle when you go for your next date.  My private eyes will handle the rest.  Perhaps you can leave the shades open a crack.  When the dust settles, he'll be all your's."

 Annette sat back, struggling to keep a poker face.  "Give me half of your initial settlement."

 Madge snorted a laugh. "I'll give you a million."

 "A million."  Annette agreed.  "Plus five hundred thousand up front."  A hint of a smile escaped Annette.  "Listen, I don't want him.  I don't even like him.  I just want the toys I get for hanging off his arm.  A little spending cash would be nice too.  Rest assured if we do marry, there won't be such a restrictive pre-nupt.

 Madge signaled the waiter.  "A shrewd business woman, I like that."  She reached back and took a glass of champagne the waiter offered her.  “Agreed.  To us."  She toasted.

 Annette took a glass.  She clinked Madge's.  "To us."  She sipped the expensive champagne, letting its sparkling taste float on her tongue.  Suddenly the room became too bright, the glass growing heavy in her hand.  "What?"  She whispered as the room began to swim.

 She could hear Madge calling the waiter.  "The lady has taken ill.  Would you help her to my car so I may take her home?"

 Annette could barely speak as the waiter half lifted her and carried her out to the street.  The valet attendant was already there with the car and the two of them loaded Annette into the back seat.  Annette struggled to stay conscious as Madge drove through a myriad of winding back streets and twisting alleys before coming to a stop at a darkened, dilapidated warehouse.  Hands pulled her from the car and deftly strapped her to a gurney and wheeled her in.  Peeling paint, flickering flourescents and rusted pipes greeted her as they wheeled Annette into a makeshift operating theater.  A gowned figure loomed over her and wedged a rubber mouth piece between her teeth, and gagged her feeble cries.

 With burning eyes, she watched as Madge walked over, but Madge paid her little mind. "Well what do you think, doctor?"

 The gowned figure looked up. "She's beautiful. I think she'll be a perfect candidate."

 Madge reached down and fondled a lock of Annette's hair.  "She does have lovely hair.  Harvest it and make a wig out of it for me."

 Annette wretched her head from Madge's grasp.  Madge only smiled.  "The little drug I put in the champagne is wearing off.  I'm sorry about the little ruse, but I had to find out just what kind of person you are.  I had to be sure you're Robert's kind of girl."  She looked up at the doctor, watching him set up, then back to Annette.  "Try not to be too mad, I don't want worry lines etched into that beautiful face.  It'll be the only thing you'll get to keep.  You see, Robert likes his women just so…”  She drew an hour glass figure in the air.  "He's a breast man, and an ass man, and he likes long elegant neck lines and small wasp waists; so to be the object of Robert's desire, you'll need a little work.  I'm here to help you out.  The only down side is that Robert's tastes are so extreme, that diet and exercise simply won't cut it.  A few nips and tucks will be required.  The doctor here is going to make you into Robert's image of beauty."  Madge looked back at the doctor.  "What do you think?"

 The doctor looked up as he wheeled in a cart covered with a sheet.  "Well, first the usual."  He pulled off the sheet showing two massive gel filled transparent balloons.  "New breasts."

 Madge's eyes bulged.  "My God!"  She reached down with both hands and tried to lift one.  "Ugh, this must be fifteen pounds!"

 "Twenty pounds each."  He said simply.  

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