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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Copyrighted 2/2024, all rights reserved
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Freedom is Choice

By DX

A woman undergoes radical body modifications to make herself into the ultimate pleasure machine with no way to enjoy sex herself.  Can a woman with a vagina for a face find happiness?

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Copyrighted 2/2018, 9/2023. All rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without previous written permission.

 Sunlight flashed through the blurring trees and forced its way through the dirty, cracked bus windows.  She watched the light play in her hands and dance between her sprawling fingers.  She marveled at her hands, the way they moved, and their intricate articulation.  It was hard to conceive that it was all happening, that she was on her way to have them chopped off and replaced with metal hooks.

 The thought made her shiver with excitement. 

 She had saved for years for this day.  Scrimped every dollar, worked every overtime shift at the factory, lived the life of a monk, all to be able to pay Dr. Marcus to work her magic.

 She looked up as she neared her stop.  Dr. Marcus’ clinic was a massive, haunting, gothic manor ringed by sweeping manicured lawns and naughty topiaries of naked nymphs and satyrs.  High, black iron gates with sharpened spikes enclosed the grounds.  

 As the bus pulled up to the stop she saw the need for such security.

 Protesters armed with signs and anger shouted from within their roped off space.  “Abolish Slavery!”  They cried.  “Suffering ‘till Suffrage!”  Megaphone amplified voices shrilled with feedback as they put out their message that Dr. Marcus’ radical and dangerous surgeries that transformed humans into objects only stripped the hard fought rights of women.

 As she disembarked she noticed there were eight potential patients with her, yet the crowd seemed unconcerned that three were men and two transgender.   She held her head up as she walked by the mob; not noticing that one of them slipped under the restraining rope and ran up to her.

 “Thank you for setting back the Women’s movement a hundred years!”  The woman screamed before she was ushered back by the guard.  

 She paused and regarded the woman, young, handsome, and obviously of serious wealth.  “I’m here to empower women.”  She called back, and stunned the rabble into silence.  “My name is Milly; short for Millicent.  I have no master, no man to lord over me.  I am here with my own money and my own will.  I know what I am, and I want Dr. Marcus to make my body into just that!”  She scanned the shocked faces and fixed on the woman that had accosted her.  “Isn’t that what the clause, ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ is about?”  She smiled gently.  “You should applaud me, support me.  I am not here on some whim, or on the orders of another.  I’m here to start my life in my own fashion.  Yesterday I worked in a factory, a slave to a wage and a company.  Today, as I walk into Dr. Marcus’ clinic, I am free.”

 Milly nodded, almost to herself, and turned and walked the long, curving path up to the main house where she was greeted by a nurse who lead her to her room.  There, Milly stripped and donned a hospital smock.  She put her street clothes, identification, and the last of her money into a bin.  

 She knew she wouldn’t need them ever again.

 “Sorry you had to endure that.” 

 Milly looked up, startled at the sudden appearance of a woman stepping through the door.  She had short, cropped blonde hair with a slight gray at the temples.  Crystal blue eyes cast a wave of intelligence and wisdom as they peered up through horn rimmed glasses.   Dr. Marcus was a handsome woman, and Milly wondered if the good doctor somehow underwent her own knife to look that way.

 Dr. Marcus sat on the edge of the bed.  “They’re here once a month and stand outside and accuse me of everything from witchcraft to mind control.”  She flipped open a folder she had carried in with her.  “I gave up that stuff years ago.”  She looked up, smiling, checking if Milly thought the joke was funny.  When she didn’t respond, Dr. Marcus shook her head.  “And that’s why I’m a doctor, not a comedian.”

 Milly smiled politely.  “I’m sorry, ma’am.  I’m a bit nervous.”

 “As well you should be.”  Dr. Marcus glanced back at her folder.  “That’s a normal response to a procedure like this.”  She looked up.  “And it is an extensive procedure.”  She patted the bed and Milly sat down beside her.  “Starting with your feet,”  Dr. Marcus looked through her folder.  “your hamstrings will be shortened about ten centimeters; meaning you can only walk en-point like a ballerina.  Your toes will be modified to handle the weight of your body.  Gel pads will be inserted subdurally allowing you to be on your knees for extended periods of time.”  She flipped a page.  “A radical hysterectomy, removing of all your sex bits.  Your vagina, clitoris, and the ganglia of nerves commonly known as the ‘G’ spot will be yanked out, leaving just a urethra to pee from.”  She looked up, her cool blue eyes studying her patient.   “You will be horny, but incapable of doing anything about it.”

 Milly nodded emphatically.  “Yes.  That is correct.”

 Dr. Marcus looked at her file again, flipping a page.  “A gastro-intestinal rework.  That will mean you’ll slim down but your diet will be restricted to only simple proteins and juice.  A torso mesh wrap, which will be a permanent subdural Victorian under bust corset.  And, speaking of bust, enlarged from your 40D to 80H.”  She peered at Milly over the tops of her glasses.  “Nipples removed.”

 “Nipples removed.”  Milly confirmed, beginning to tremble with excitement.

 “Trachea tube in.”  Dr. Marcus had stopped reading and was watching Milly’s reaction.  “And for the gem on this crown, our Vaginal Face special.”  Dr. Marcus flipped the page showing Milly’s computer rendered new appearance.  “Your teeth will be removed, your jaw reconfigured and the tissue material from your vagina and lips will be fashioned in to a vagina on your face.”

 “And my hands.”  Milly added.

 “And your hands removed--which out of everything we’re doing is the easiest part, truthfully.”

 “But the most important.”  Milly insisted.  “I want my purpose to be to give others pleasure, and I will wear that purpose right up here for everyone to see and know.”  She pointed to her face.  “No other options.  I’ll have prosthetics which will enable me to do house chores, but my main function is to provide pleasure, freely and purely given altruistically, with no expectations of reciprocation.”

 Dr. Marcus was visibly impressed.  “No nobler a cause.”  She reached into the pocket of her lab coat.  “Take this pill.  It will make you drowsy and ready for surgery.”  She handed her a small envelope.  “Oh, almost forgot.  We never decided on your hair.”

 “It’s goes.”  She said emphatically.  “Easier to clean up and I can always wear a wig.”  She took the pill, and washed it down with a sip of water.  “Since these are going to be my last words ever, I want to make them count.”  She looked at the Doctor.  “Freedom is choice.”

 Dr. Marcus wrote the words on the cover of her folder.  She slipped from the bed and tucked the girl in.  

 In the quiet of the room, Milly drifted to sleep, dreaming of her new life.

 When she awoke she noticed that the sunlight had slid across the room.  Nothing appeared to be different until she noticed the mountain of bandages that sat on her chest.  She went to cup them but found bondages on the stubs of her arms.  She shivered with joy as she reached up with her stubs and touched her face.

 Bandages.  Her whole head had been wrapped up leaving only space for her eyes.  She tried to sit up, but the mammoth weight on her chest made it difficult.  She shifted back and forth and heaved forward, feeling the corset wrap across her stomach.  She looked for a mirror, but then decided all she would see was bandages so she lay back down.

 Over the next few weeks Milly was in the care of the physical therapists who taught her to walk all over again.  Once the bandages on her wrists were removed and her custom prosthetics strapped in place, she was taught to use them and not poke her eyes out accidentally.

 Finally the bandages were removed from her face.

 Swollen, bruised, and outlined with tiny staples and sutures, she looked like she had lost a very bad fight.

 She was the most beautiful thing she could ever imagine.  She blinked at the mirror, amazed at her sultry eyes.  Dr. Marcus not only gave a little sculpt to her eyes, but also hand implanted long, permanent lashes that fanned beckonly each time she blinked.  She looked carefully at her new vagina.  With a kiss her lips fluttered, blossoming and blushing like a morning flower.

 “It will get better.”  Dr. Marcus cautioned again.  “You’ve got a bit of healing to go through.”

 Wiping joyful tears from her eyes, Milly motioned to her face.

 Looking at her askance, Dr. Marcus tried deciphering her signals.  “Are you hungry?”

 She shook her head and made a longer gesture.

 “Ooooh, you want to try out your new, uh, love tunnel.”  She sighed softly.  “Then I’ll just accept that you’re happy with my work.”  Dr. Marcus smiled at Milly’s energetic nod but shook her head.  “Two weeks and we’ll see.”

 Milly waited a little over three days before she beguiled an orderly with the slow bat of her eyes and took him to a storage room.  She leaned him against a counter as she deftly un-zippered his trousers and exposed his manhood.  Her tongue lashed out, circling the swelling head and roping it deeper into her fleshy parlor.  She could feel her layers of muscles working, pulsing, as her enhanced salivary glands coated his cock and made it slick.

 She barely had to move her head before he came.

 Gulping him down she worked every last bit of salty quim from his body, surprised at the delicious, buttery taste and texture.  Her body being able to process only simple proteins had developed a craving for man juice, and Milly wanted more.

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Copyrighted 2/2018, 9/2023. All rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced without previous written permission.

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 Beneath the sheets

By DX

Copyrighted 5/2002, 8/2023, all rights reserved.

A thief tries to escape but falls into the hands of Dr. Marcus, extreme body mod specialist.  What could the good doctor have in mind?


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I think about the last thing she said to me, to anyone.

 "You can't do this!"  Her beautiful eyes flashed hotly at me, angrily.  "You're making a big mistake.  I made you rich!"

 She was dressed in her prison orange jumpsuit and her sexy curves came right through.  Her hands where cuffed to a chain belt around her tiny waist.  The prison guard restrained her as she shouldered and thrashed around in a pitiful attempt to be combative. 

 She had been cool, confident, and assured when I promised I would forgive her of her transgressions and she would spend no time in jail.  I also promised to forget all the money she had stolen.  I had no chance of recovering it anyway as she blew it all at a  casino in a single weekend.

 She only had to behave, and submit to a procedure that would insure she never stole again.

 She instantly agreed.  She was then a little surprised when she found out it wasn’t to have sex with me.

 She completely freaked when Dr. Marcus walked in.

 "You didn't make me rich. I was already rich." I corrected her firmly. "You're nothing a thief."

 She struggled against the guard's tight grip.  "Oh, I get it.  Out of all the thieves on the board, I'm

the sacrificial lamb!"

 Dr Marcus peered from beneath her spectacles at me.  "Haven't broken the news to her yet, I see.”  She waved at her assistant.  "Gag her."

 She really fought then.  Her screams became shrills until the fat sponge ball sank deep in her mouth and muffled her sobs.  The orderlies dragged her into the other room.  Ordinarily it was our board room, but today, it had been sterilized and made into an impromptu operating theater. We decided to do it there because all the telecom and conferencing networking patch equipment was already set up.

 This was only to be one of many procedures, but it was important that all our stock holders. witnessed at least the start.

 She continued to fight as they strapped her to the gurney.

 She had been assigned to invest the roll over from a retirement collective fund, but she played the edge of risk for too long.  She quickly lost all that she had gained.  Then she dipped into the fund itself.  She paid out checks to the stock holders to keep us at bay while she pissed away the life savings of thousands retirees.  She tried to evade authorities by taking the remaining out of the country.  To keep the constituents happy, she sent them post cards of her trotting around Europe, claiming to be researching overseas markets for them and assuring them their money was safe and growing.  The fact was she was spending their money.  She created a new identity and pretending to be a Baroness.  It was scandalous when the story broke.

 It was even worse when we couldn't extradite her.

 She mockingly laughed at us by sending letters to the retirees to inform them their life savings was gone.

 We quickly tried to reassure the constituents and resolve the accounts, but the shocking news that their life savings had been stolen and the thief was beyond capture, was too much for some of them.  A few suffered cardiac failure.  Two died.  One took his own life.

 So, the stock holders decided to get her back at all costs.

 We paid to have her abducted.  She was yanked off the street in broad daylight.  There wasn’t much protest from the host government, she was already in hot water with them and they wanted her gone.

 Now, in our hands, there was no police and no trial.  

 We sentenced her to life.  Since I paid out the largest share to resolve the accounts and pay back the retirees I got the choice of how to intern her.  Dr. Marcus was nice enough to offer her services.

 The doctor gloved up as the anesthetist prepared to put her under.  "So, you haven't told me what you want."

 I sighed.  Dr. Marcus was a specialist in extreme body mods.  Her work was able to transform the human body into unbelievable shapes.  Nothing was beyond her.  With such choices, how could I

decide?  I first came in contact with Dr. Marcus' work when my wife, Rebecca surprised me with her breast augmentation.

 To hold up her massive breast enlargements without unyielding pain, she had to have her spine reinforced.

 Yeah, I'm a lucky so and so.

 Dr. Marcus nodded as she put on her surgical mask.  "Small matter.  I've got enough to start."

 "Actually..."  Rebecca looked up from a photo album of Dr. Marcus' previous creations.  "I'd like one of these."  She held up the book and showed the doctor, while her eyes found mine with a playful smile.

 "An excellent choice."  The doctor nodded and turned to the task at hand.  "Our patient is under?  Then let’s get to work."

 Imagine being put to sleep on Dr. Marcus' table and not know what you would be when you woke up?  Each time, each new surgery, another change, each one more surprising than the last. Each time she woke up, the nightmare refreshed anew.

Copyrighted 5/2002, 8/2023, all rights reserved.


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