Erin wouldn’t say she liked Gary Lorenz. The tall, dark-haired man was self-adsorbed and sexist. But as a woman intent on an engineering career, she had long ago resolved herself to dealing with self-adsorbed and sexist men. Still, Lorenz had a certain passion about him, an obsession with the potential of EM fields to alter biological material. And he didn’t seem interested in proving his theories to anyone. That was what most intrigued Erin about the man. While everyone else in the field of bioengineering was looking for converts to their particular methods or hypotheses, Lorenz kept his research close to his chest, not presenting any project or even promoting his company, designated solely by the letters BTI on his name tag. It was only by the questions he asked about other people’s work that Erin had even managed to figure out what he was interested in.
It was a strategy that had worked well for Erin in the past—quietly observing until she understood the details, then blow them away with her insight, all in her lilting Southern-belle accent that bigoted Northerners associated with backwardness. She liked to shatter people’s preconceptions and she loved to surprise people with just how smart she was. She made it a point to impress the least impressible person at any given meeting. At this meeting, on a whim, she had decided to bring her considerable intellect to bear on the mystery of what exactly the enigmatic Dr. Lorenz was working on. She would show him that he wasn’t the only one who could be more than he appeared.
Her best source of data on her Lorenz project was the social hours. With a few drinks in him, Lorenz would start to argue with other scientists rather than just posing deftly calculated questions, and in these arguments he did, in fact, give some inkling of his work, though he was infuriatingly coy. He was the opposite of most industrial types. Most scientists from industry where wide-sweeping with their discussion of their work, while being very fuzzy on the details so as not to get in trouble with the lawyers and other suits for releasing trade secrets and proprietary methods. Lorenz had actually described within Erin’s ear shot the specific frequency with which he claimed to be able to modulate nerve fibers and accelerate their growth. But when pressed for such general information as what tissue he was working with when he modulated these fibers, he clammed up.
But Erin was able to figure it out by piecing together a question Lorenz had asked during the first platform presentation and a disparaging remark he had made to a German neuroscientist the day before. And once she had solved the puzzle, she wasn’t surprised that the other bioengineers at the conference couldn’t guess. 99% of them couldn’t find a clitoris with both hands and 98% of them would never even try. That Lorenz both knew what it was and the potential it had, to the extent of wanting to exploit it, was more than a little creepy and yet somewhat refreshing.
She resolved to let him know that she knew what he was doing. It had the potential of being incredibly awkward, of course. She always got hit on at these conferences, even though she was not exactly a supermodel, what with her unassuming figure and limp, short red hair. She was still the most feminine individual at the conference. Even the lesbians hit on her. But the more she thought about confronting Gary Lorenz, the more she liked the idea. Not only could she shock him with her intellectual ability at having pieced together his research, she might even succeed at embarrassing one of her male colleagues after years of getting embarrassing comments and questions from them!
Erin decided to make her move at the end-of-conference mixer. There was an open bar and she took advantage of the liquid courage. As skinny as she was, a little went a long way. With a flush on her cheeks, she approached the mysterious man from BTI.
Lorenz, looking rumpled and jittery, was staring at one of the saleswomen representing the sponsors of the conference. This was not unusual, as the company sponsors invariably sent silicone-enhanced bimbos to these functions in order to push their products on the poor horny engineers. But Lorenz wasn’t leering. He actually seemed to be looking at her with the critical eye of an engineer who disapproved of a colleague’s project. It almost made Erin think she was making a mistake, but she knew she’d regret it if she let the moment pass. The whole point of these things was to make contacts and impress colleagues and future collaborators.
“Dr. Lorenz?” she said, startling him.
He looked her up and down, perplexed and bemused, clearly spending much more time looking at her body than her face, still with that critical eye, and yet somehow she felt she had received a more favorable evaluation than the bimbo. Her blush grew brighter, but she pushed ahead.
“Forgive me, but I just really wanted to ask you why you chose the clitoris to study your nerve modulation techniques on,” she said.
Her question had the desired effect. It actually brought his gaze up to her face. And his own face was clearly shocked.
“Who told you that?” he demanded.
“Well, no one told me,” she assured him. “But if you know anything about both the clitoris and frequency-modulated Keltzer fields, it’s pretty obvious.”
He blinked at her, clearly going through a serious re-evaluation of her. She grinned smugly.
“And what was your name again?” he asked at last.
“Erin. Erin Weaver,” she exclaimed, holding out her hand. “Duke University”
He took it in a firm, calloused grip.
“Gary Lorenz,” he said. “BTI. Can I buy you a drink, Erin?”
Erin chuckled.
“It’s an open bar, silly,” she said.
“Yes, yes,” he said dismissively. “And it has all the quality you’d expect from an open bar. My expense account has no limit and I guarantee we can find a higher quality of liquor. And we won’t be pestered by our intellectual inferiors either!”
Erin thrilled. He had just called her his equal! One of the most arrogant men there and he implied that she, just one year into her post-grad training, was his equal!
“You see, my boss would really prefer I not talk too much about our work here,” Lorenz told her, looking about conspiratorially. “But if you’re half as smart as I think you are, I believe we might have a position for you. One with a lot more benefits than the University gig.”
“Oh...Oh my. Yes, sure! Where should we go?” she asked.
It was all happening so fast, but Erin was just so excited. An actual job offer? She never expected this!
Gary Lorenz seemed to know the area well. He strode out into the night on his long legs and Erin had to rush to keep up. As they walked, he further probed her to determine just how much she had divined about his methods by quietly observing him during the conference. She was right on every count and Lorenz appeared truly impressed and just a little unnerved. Erin was thrilled!
There was a little bar just around the corner from the hotel. Erin had passed it several times and never noticed it, but Lorenz signaled the attendant, greeted him by name and with a word and a palmed bill, they were soon sitting in a dark, out of the way booth with a very attentive waiter.
“Do you like scotch?” he asked.
“I, uh, I’ve never tried it,” she admitted.
“You’ll love it,” he assured her. “Scotch on the rocks for the lady, neat for me.”
Before she could object to him ordering for her the waiter was gone.
“Now, Erin, I can call you Erin, right?” he asked, but plunged ahead without waiting for an answer. “If you think about it a little further, I’m sure you’ll see that the clitoris is the perfect tissue for what I’m doing. Obviously, it has a greater nerve density than any other tissue. But that is only the beginning. It’s the nature of the nerves, more than their abundance. You see, all of those wonderful little nerves are hard wired for one thing and one thing only: pleasure. They are jacked into the central nervous system to generate enough pleasure to drive a woman to engage in behavior that will promote the perpetuation of the species. Because of that pleasure, the female of the species will submit themselves to the male’s lust, engage in acts that intellectually she may find undesirable, yet the pleasure pulsing through her nervous system drives her to forgo the intellect and mate!”
The waiter brought their drinks. Erin was getting extremely creeped out by Lorenz’ diatribe and suspected she had made a huge mistake.
“I really don’t think...” she began.
“Yes, yes, precisely...” he said and pulled out his PDA and started fiddling with it.
“What the hell?” she demanded. “Are you crazy or something? I...thirsty...god I’m thirsty.”
She grabbed her glass and drained it, not thinking for a moment that drinking pure scotch was hardly a cure for thirst. She gasped.
“Wha...wha the fuck did I do that for?” she asked. The room wobbled around her.
“You don’t know, you see?” Lorenz said. “You didn’t think about it at all! You had the neural impulse of thirst and your response was to drink. You didn’t think about what you were drinking or why you were thirsty, you just responded! That’s because the need to drink is hard wired into the nervous system. If an animal doesn’t drink, it will die and not reproduce! The nervous system puts a much higher priority on drinking than on thinking. But why does the nervous system want the animal to drink? In the end, it is because it wants the animal to fuck! If the individual fails to fuck, that individual is an evolutionary dead end! And thus we have the clitoris!”
“Now hold on a shecond!” Erin demanded. “Did you do sumpin’ to me? Make me drink that?”
“Now don’t be silly, Erin,” Lorenz said, moving his PDA under the table. “I can’t -make- you do anything. It’s your nervous system that makes you do things. It’s the pleasure and pain. It drives you to do the things that will make the species endure, even if the individual doesn’t intend to do so, intellectually. The mind controls the body, but the clitoris controls the mind, at least in the case of the fertile female.”
“Thas ridiculus!” Erin said. “The clitoris isn’t much more powerful than the fingertip! The fingertip can do more, sense more. It’s got diversity!”
“Yes, the fingertip has diversity. It has to tell the brain what’s hot and what’s cold, what’s rough and what’s smooth, what’s hairy and what’s warm. What’s moist and slick and sticky. The fingertip tells the brain all these things. All the clitoris tells the brain is to fuck. It doesn’t tell the brain about the environment. It tells the brain what to do. And it only has one order to give: fuck! All those lovely little nerves and they just have one thing to say, fuck, fuck, fuck, a billion times over like the heavenly choir, with the very voice of God.”
Perhaps it was all the discussion of the clitoris, but Erin’s own was just buzzing like never before. She had an overwhelming desire to touch it, to feel if the throbbing and swelling was just her imagination or if she really was as horny as she thought she was. No, not horny. That was crazy. She didn’t desire this man. He was a nut. A pervert. Her right hand made its own way up her inner thigh. Her spine tingled. Her head swam. Her fingers moved closer to her crotch. She wasn’t thinking about it. She was just doing it.
Her fingers pressed at her mound through her pants. She felt her damp panties stick to her weeping pussy. Her thumb rested above her throbbing nubbin and slid down to make contact.
“Ooooooooh!” she let loose a long moan and shuddered.
“You can’t resist it, Erin,” Lorenz assured her. “Millions of years of evolution are fighting against your tiny intellect. The pleasure drives you to do what you must.”
Her head swam. Her eyes rolled. Her fly opened. Her fingers served. They told her brain that her clitoris was warm and hard and slick. They told her brain that her pussy was moist and trembling and tender. Her brain told her fingers to knead and to fondle and to plunge and to poke and to twiddle and to diddle. And her clitoris told her brain: MORE, MORE, GOOD, FUCK, GOOD, MORE.
And then her clitoris commanded the universe to explode. She came like she had never come before and the world around her became molten lava and her brain became strawberry pudding and in the center of it all, her all-powerful clitoris sang and sang.
Awash in a confused afterglow, Erin felt another drink pressed in her had. Reflexively, she drank it, adding all the more to her confusion. Had she really just masturbated in public? Was she really letting this crazy pervert get her drunk? Was her clitoris truly more powerful than her brain?
“Would you like another, Erin?” Lorenz asked.
“What?...No...I...I’m a lil’ tipsy already...” she managed.
“Not another scotch, Erin,” he said with indulgent condescension. “Another trip to heaven!”
He shook his PDA in her direction suggestively.
“Oh, I....I mean... that didn’t really....make me...”
“Erin! I really thought you were smarter than this!” Lorenz exclaimed. “You understand the technology. You understand the biology. The only thing you need in order to understand the implications of the interface between the two is to let go of your preconceived prejudices. Listen to your clit! If you listen closely, you can hear your paradigms shifting!”
“Listen to my....” she started to ask as he pushed a button.
And then she had no choice but to listen to her clitoris, as it was singing out the Halleluiah chorus into the echoing cathedral of her skull. She whimpered out a feeble harmony to its song as she melted in her seat. She could hear her paradigms shifting. The universe revolved around a miraculous knob of flesh that just happened to reside in her panties.
Erin had completely lost track of how many times she had cum and how many drinks she had downed. Truth-be-told, she wasn’t totally clear on the whole concept of counting in general. The only quantitative concept she had any use for was ‘another’. She could use that to say ‘Please, sir, may I have another’ which was a very useful thing to say indeed!
“Peeshu, muzzuh hubbuh nuzshuh?” she asked.
“Actually, Erin, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” said the man she had come to think of as Mr. Happy.
“No.....shima zolla fbluh!” she argued.
“Tell you what, let’s go back to my hotel room and you can convince me once we get there that you can handle another one,” he said.
“Shzhum furbuh mff ,” she agreed.
Mr. Happy stood and coaxed her out of the booth and onto her feet. Her legs were made of foam rubber and completely unsuited for supporting her weight. Luckily, her new friend was up to the task. He took her in his arms and gave her head a nice broad shoulder to pass out on.
The next day was a blissful blur. Dr. Lorenz had a big breasted blonde woman in his hotel room named Candyass. That name made Erin giggle. Actually, most things made her giggle, especially the big, phallus-shaped lollypops they kept giving her. She had awoken with one in her mouth.
It was absolutely the best thing she had ever tasted and it seemed to make everything all right. She had giggled uncontrollably as her new friends stuffed all of the personal items in her hotel room into her luggage and then tossed it all into a large dumpster behind a movie theater. Candyass gave her a fresh lollypop and she happily climbed into the back of Dr. Lorenz’s Lincoln for the long drive to Chicago. She was wearing nothing but one of Dr. Lorenz’s dress shirts, but both he and Candyass insisted she looked adorable in it and the lack of anything underneath made it easy for the blonde bimbo to eat her out, which she insisted on doing frequently, confessing that she just couldn’t help herself. Erin didn’t object. Everything was just marvelous. She giggled and squirmed as Candyass dove in once more and Dr. Lorenz drove along the interstate, humming to himself.
Erin was not in nearly so good a mood the next morning. There was no drugged lollypop in her mouth. It was not the absence of the narcotic so much as what had replaced it that distressed her, though. She had large tube stuck down her throat, with smaller versions up each nostril.
“URNG!” she exclaimed as soon as she became semiconscious, her neck muscles impotently throttling the thing in her throat. Her hands went instinctively to her face to remove it, but stopped short before moving an inch. Looking down to see what was restraining her hands, she saw that she was naked and chin deep in a tank of warm green goo.
Her eyes went wide and she struggled to move her legs only to find them similarly restrained. But that was only a minor horror compared to discovering that there were also foreign objects penetrating deep into her vagina and rectum.
“Eeengh!” she tried to scream.
“Oh! You’re awake!” came a cheery, insipid voice. “I’ll call Mr. Lorenz!”
Erin’s eyes darted about until they rested on a retreating female form, long brown hair swishing back and forth above a perfectly round ass in a painfully tight pair of white denim cutoffs.
“Ungh!” she protested. Calling Lorenz was the last thing she wanted the woman to do.
She turned on her kitten-heeled sandals revealing a playful grin and an astounding rack in a baby T.
“Now just you be patient!” she chided gently. “The fun will start before you know it!”
Then she twirled about and clicked away, her ass a pendulum. Erin shuddered and strained fruitlessly against her bonds. Where the hell was she?
“Welcome to BimboTech!”
Erin’s head jerked up as far as it was able with the tube down her throat and saw Gary Lorenz with a huge coffee mug and a disturbing smile. Erin did her best to scream out ‘fucker!’ but it was impossible.
“I’d love to make this a dialogue, Erin,” Lorenz said. “I really would! But I just couldn’t figure out a way to dispense with the throat tube. You’ll understand why soon enough. I’ve actually made significant modifications in the apparatus so that you can hear me. With most subjects I insist on total submersion. I had an underling in the early days that would use air as a conductive medium, but it just doesn’t give the quality of skin tone that I like. Luckily, you have a marvelous complexion and really nice bone structure in your face, so we can keep your head out of the goo for most of the procedures without any sacrifice in quality!”
“UrnghANGH!” Erin choked out.
Just how crazy was this bastard? And what in the name of all that was holy was he talking about? What procedures? What was he trying to do to her?
“I know, I know, it isn’t comfortable,” he conceded. “With other girls, I prefer them drugged or already bimbofied, but there’s just something about you, Erin. I want you to understand what I’m doing to you. And I really think you’re capable of it! It really is amazing. Of all the scientists I’ve met, you’re the only one who even comes close to getting my work and you’re this young, beautiful girl! God, if I wasn’t such an evil son-of-a-bitch, I might have fallen in love with you! CANDYASS! MORE COFFEE!”
He gulped down the last of the contents of his mug as the blonde bimbo whom Erin had met in her drugged-state clicked into view wearing a red bikini and stripper heels.
“Right away, Mr. Lorenz!” she exclaimed, taking his mug, then pausing to wave at Erin with a stupid, friendly grin. Lorenz slapped her tattooed ass loudly and she squealed and dutifully clicked across the room and out of Erin’s view.
“I didn’t start out trying to make bimbos, you know,” Lorenz continued. “Back when this place was Millennial Innovations Incorporated, I was hired to work on treatments for alopecia. But a man named George Fink took an interest in my work, encouraged me to go further, and provided me with subjects to try my theories out on. I soon began to realize that Keltzer fields could be used to modify almost any tissue in the human body! So when Fink proposed a hostile takeover of the company, I was more than willing to help. And I haven’t looked back since! My theories have proven more applicable than I could have ever hoped! But still, I have a special place in my heart for the lowly hair follicle. That’s where I got my start, after all. The first tissue that responded to my manipulations. That’s why I want to show you what I can do with them first!”
The blonde bimbo scurried back with the lunatic’s mug and offered it to him reverently. He took it dismissively, not taking his gleaming eyes off of Erin as he sipped and then slurped.
“Get a mirror, Candyass, and you and Ellie hold it in front of Erin,” he said. “I want her to see this!”
“Yes, Mr. Lorenz!” the blonde said and scampered off again.
“Now modulated Keltzer fields can affect almost any tissue if you just determine the precise resonant frequencies, the necessary medium, and the nutritional requirements of the tissue undergoing guided enhancement,” the mad scientist lectured. “I found the frequencies to stimulate selective hair growth fairly easily. And by supplying the body with a mixture of amino acids, simple and complex carbohydrates, pigments and permeablizing agents (your soaking in it), I can stimulate a follicle to put out hair at a rate of nearly 3 millimeters per second! This alone would have made me millions, but it isn’t about the money. I wanted to take the technology to the limit! I wanted not to only stimulate growth, but to control the texture, the color, every aspect of the hair! I wanted to be able to convince a group of Han Chinese hair follicles to put out curly blond ringlets! I wanted to be able to nudge 70 year old grey Caucasian follicles to produce sleek black Persian hair! And after years of practice, trial and error, I can do it! I can make your hair follicles do anything!”
Candyass and the girl with the long brown hair and the amazing boobs came back into view holding a large mirror between them. Tilting them upward, Erin could now see herself there in the transparent tank filled with green goo. She was bound, she was bare, and she was bald. And not just on her head.
“RNNNG!” she exclaimed in anger and humiliation.
“Oh, I had them shave you for your benefit, Erin!” he exclaimed. “With most girls, I just do what I need to make their hair perfect and let the imperfect natural ends dangle until the girls in the salon get around to cutting them off. With you, though, I don’t want that pale, pathetic red you grow naturally to distract for one second from the gorgeous locks I’m going to tickle your follicles into growing! It’s magic time, Erin!”
And so saying, he gulped coffee, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and hit a button.
A shudder went through the tank and then found a way into Erin’s spine, crawled up and made itself at home in her scalp. Erin closed her eyes tight, dreading what might happen to her, sure that this madman was going to end up killing her. Her scalp and pubis tingled and twitched, and then they began to feel very, very warm.
“Oh yes!” said Lorenz. “Oh god, it’s my best shade yet!”
Erin braved a peek. There in the mirror, she could see that she now had a lawn of short red hairs growing out of her scalp. They were not the pale red, baby-fine strands she was used to seeing on her head. Even as short as they were, it was apparent that they were a fiery copper color that didn’t exist in nature and yet somehow looked perfectly natural. Erin started despite herself. Lorenz was insane, but apparently he wasn’t delusional. He could really do some of the things he claimed. Her pubic hair was growing back as well. She looked back and forth at the two bimbos holding up the mirror. What had they looked like before Lorenz had gotten a hold of them? What had their minds been like? She remembered her euphoric car ride, her drunken, polyorgasmic night in the bar, and shivered. A red curl tumbled in front of her left eye.
Facing her reflection again, she could see that all the growing strands were curling, entwining around each other as they elongated, squirming like a mass of tiny titian snakes. Within a little more than minute, it was reaching her shoulders. Erin couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was fascinating, horrifying and, even more disturbing, arousing. Was it really titillating for her, or was Lorenz manipulating her yet again? A curl wormed its way into her ear and she quivered and came, her cunt clenching at the device that had invaded it.
“Oh my! You’re enjoying this more than I am, aren’t you Erin?” Lorenz observed.
Erin blushed furiously. He must have made her do it, respond that way. The alternative was to terrible to think of. The two bimbos holding the mirror giggled knowingly and Erin blushed all the harder. Erin’s hair continued to squirm its way down, twirling in a maddening mass of gloriously red curls, floating out onto the surface of the goo she was immersed in.
“Lovely! Just lovely!” said Lorenz, pushing a button that caused her scalp to stop tingling and her hair to stop growing. “It’s still my favorite, I think, but there are of course things about you that are in much more need of rectifying Erin! To be blunt, puberty was awfully stingy with you. But where nature is frugal, I am magnanimous. To wit, let’s bring on the boobies!”
Erin scowled. She wasn’t busty, certainly, but she was hardly flat-chested, although having her reflection bookended by the top-heavy bimbos made it hard for her not to think of her breasts as small. Unpleasant memories of high school gym class bubbled up to the surface.
Lorenz pushed another button on his computer and a ripple went through the tank, a faint buzzing of a modulated Keltzer field scanned up and down her body and came to rest on her breasts.
And before her eyes, the two mounds of flesh began to ripple, quiver and swell.
“Now fat cells are another beast all together,” Lorenz continued to lecture. “With follicles, they can stay where they are for the most part. I just need them to alter & increase their output, maybe go through a couple rounds of doubling if they’re too sparse. With fat cells, most subjects are in serious need of massive redistribution, reduction or, in tiny-titted cases like yours, supplementation! With a chunkier chick, I could just redirect the excess tissue from her thighs up into the boobular area. Indeed, for quite a while that was my preferred method, once I abandoned the idea of simply inducing mitogenesis in the boobie tissue itself. It can be done, yes, but the multiple rounds of replication leave the titflesh without the proper level of integrity. With some of the first cases, I had to supplement with silicone and other non-organics to keep them from sagging, and as a result they were just a bit too firm. The migrating fat cell method, guided by nano-devices injected through the various tubes that you’re now so intimately familiar with, not only results in a more natural look and feel to the pleasure pillows, but in the case of more corpulent subjects, decreases the amount of fat we have to suck out of their bodies.”
Erin’s breasts were now the size of cantaloupes, her aureoles the size of silver dollars. They had felt odd, though not unpleasant, at first, but now they felt slightly numb.
“The real breakthrough came when I performed the first woman-to-woman fat cell transplant, though!” Lorenz continued, stepping closer to the tank. “It’s particularly useful with older subjects. It’s remarkable how you can shave off the years of a wrinkled sixty year old woman if you pump her up with the fat of a twenty year old! Not all fat is equal, of course, and that from younger women is usually the most pliant. With you, though Erin, I’ve splurged on what is no doubt the finest vintage I have in stock! The tissue augmenting your knockers right now came from none other than Ellie here, who has the finest pairs of jugs I’ve ever had the pleasure to fondle, and that’s a hell of a lot of jugs I don’t mind telling you!”
He groped the bimbo with the long brown hair and nibbled her neck as she giggled and nearly dropped the mirror. Erin’s reflection jerked and swayed as her tits continued their improbable expansion. She felt nauseous. They seemed so alien, there growing out of her, floating to the surface of the goo like a pair of drunken whales.
“Of course, you need a little padding elsewhere too,” Lorenz said once he was done molesting his assistant. “Just a little to round out your ass and give some softness to your more boney parts. Won’t take more than a minute, once we’ve got your jugs up to a respectable 1000 cc’s. You might notice some numbness. Don’t worry, that’s only temporary. Nerves aren’t able to keep up with the expanding breast. It’s hard enough getting the skin to keep pace. Once we start enhancing your nervous system, though, we’ll more than rectify the situation!”
He fiddled on his computer and there was a buzzing at her knees, elbows and ass for just a moment. Then he started fiddling some more. The girl in the reflection with the tubes sticking out of her, the wild red hair, and the enormous tits was looking less and less like Erin. There had to be some way out or this. She was smart! She should be able to find a way out of it. What about the assistants? The two girls holding the mirror. They didn’t seem at all sympathetic, but if he had done this to them as well, surely there must be some resentment, deep down. Surely she could find away to convince them to help her.
If only she could speak. The frustration of it all was maddening. She struggled again against her bonds. Her newly inflated tits jostled about in the goo. Lorenz grinned up at her. The bimbos stood obediently smiling, not showing any sign that they weren’t enjoying Erin’s mutilation as much as their sadistic master.
“Now for the bones and muscles, transformation needs to occur simultaneously if we are to avoid any ripping of muscle fibers. It works best if we include a bit of vibrational force into the mix,” Lorenz continued to lecture. “While you’ve been in the tank, my nano-devices have been finding their way to strategic places. The most dramatic bone changes will be in your pelvis, but there will also be changes in your vertebrae and ribs to help support your new melons, and we’ll be lengthening your legs by a good seven centimeters, plus adjusting the bones in your feet to help you adjust to more lady-like footwear than those appalling flats you were wearing when we met.”
The bimbos giggled. They were both wearing ridiculous heels.
“As for muscle groups, well, the most massive amount of work will be on your hiney of course,” Lorenz said. “We’ll finally make them worthy of the title ‘gluteus maximus’. We’ll really flesh out your thighs as well. But the really key work will be just tiny changes in your kegel, throat and anal sphincter. It’s these tiny adjustments that make BimboTech girls the most fuckable girls on the planet!”
Erin scowled at the madman, burning her hatred of him with her eyes, the only part of her that still felt wholly her own. A childhood memory of pretending to be Supergirl flashed across her consciousness, distracting from her concentrated hatred. She blinked and apparently Lorenz hit a button simultaneously because before she could open her eyes, a rumble started in the walls of the tank. As her lids rose, the vibration traveled through the tubes in her orifices and started to shake her, inside and out. Her feet rose up off the floor of the tank. Her eyes went wide as she realized she was about to cum. She hadn’t even known she was close, but off she went as her whole body burned and throbbed and quivered, reshaped by unthinkably brilliant technology guided by an unbelievably perverse genius. The trembling image in the mirror seemed to loose all cohesion. Something had gone wrong, her mind screamed. She was dissolving. Becoming one with the goo that was gurgling about her. The thought was strangely appealing, and she came again.
Time lost all meaning, but at last the shaking stopped. She now had an hour glass figure, wide hyperfeminine hips and long, shapely legs. The muscles of her vagina, anus and throat were clutching the tubes that invaded her, reflexively squeezing and adulating them. She whimpered. He was stealing her body from her, making it rebel against her, subverting it, destroying it. She had never felt so helpless, so abandoned. She wept.
“Now all of this, while aesthetically pleasing, is only flesh,” Lorenz said. “As I told you on our first date, it’s the nerves that have the real power. And the things I can do with nerves and glands are, quite frankly, more astounding than the things Bernini could do with marble or Hendrix could do with a guitar! On our date, I showed you just how powerful unaltered clitoral nerves could be with a little electronic encouragement. But they can be so much more! Their signals can be enhanced, their connections to the CNS rerouted so that only the pleasure centers of the brain are stimulated, no matter how ineptly the nerve endings are stimulated. Discomfort and pain responses can be eliminated. And it doesn’t just have to be the clitoris. I can rewire dozens of erogenous zones throughout the body! The pleasure centers of the brain must be enlarged to accommodate the added input, of course, but I’ve never had a subject complain about that! So now, Erin, I present to you, my Neural-endocrine Symphony, accompanied by Mr. Beethoven.”
He pushed a button and hidden speakers rang out with the final movement of Beethoven’s 9th. Lorenz gulped coffee, his eyes electric. A lighting bolt shot up Erin’s spine. Her brain caught fire. The flames danced out to her extremities. The nozzles invading her buzzed. The green goo bubbled. Erin moaned as ecstasy danced with agony, backwards in high heels. Where as before, it had felt like her body was not her own, now her body was overwhelming her sense of self. Every part of her was declaring its presence to her, begging for her attention, asking her to own it and love it, like dozens of needy children. Her nipples, her knees, the nape of her neck, all were calling out to her in a cacophonic chorus, declaring their own importance and promising pleasure, overwhelming her mind, pulling it in every direction. She whimpered and wished she could curl up in a dark corner somewhere. Her body could not, so her mind decided to go it alone. As she lost consciousness, the last thing she heard was the two bimbos giggling.
Erin woke up in the shower. For an instance, she dared to hope it had all been a horrible dream. But the intense sensuality of the warm water cascading down her flesh belied that. Her eyes fluttered open. Long red hair was plastered across huge, creamy tits with protruding russet nipples. The electric bliss emanating from them left no room for doubt that they were hers, or perhaps that she was theirs.
She was not at first aware that the caresses coming from all sides were not all from the warm water. As sensations ran along the bottom of her tits, though, they drew her attention so that she saw two feminine hands make their way up to her nipples to squeeze. Stars exploded before her eyes and her knees went weak. She moaned and was answered by multiple giggles. As her vision cleared, she looked about and found she was surrounded by voluptuous naked women. Candyass was there, grinning stupidly at her. A tiny Asian woman with huge tits was kneeling to her right, rubbing down her legs with a soft pink sponge. To her left knelt an Hispanic woman who dropped her sponge and started licking her. Erin quivered and her monstrous tits jiggled. Something was holding her up, she realized when she could think again. Two large tits were pressing against her naked back. Her mind struggled to conclude that they must belong to the same person as the hands that were rubbing her own tits. She tried to turn her head to look, only to find a tongue in her ear. She whimpered and came. A giggle replaced the tongue.
“I told you you’d just have to be patient!” said a girlish voice. “Now you look so pretty! <giggle> We just need to get the goo off of you and we’ll get you all dressed and made up like a proper bimbo! <giggle> we’re gonna have so much fun! My fat looks really good on you!”
Feeling weak from all the sensation, she panted and turned to see that it was the one Lorenz had called Ellie. Her makeup was running in the shower water and she was smiling brightly, clueless as to just how horrified Erin was.
“I…I don’t want…Not a bimbo…Need….” Erin stammered, her tongue feeling thick and unwieldy. Had he altered it as well? She couldn’t remember. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, tripping over the barrage of sensation that assaulted her from all sides.
“Not a bimbo?” said Ellie incredulous. “Silly girl! Every girl’s a bimbo!<giggle> Some just don’t know it yet!”
“No…Crazy…” Erin stammered. “Escape…need…need to…”
“You need to escape?” Ellie asked. “Well why didn’t you say so?”
The honey-haired bimbo’s hand slid down her stomach and unerringly found her clit. Before she could object, Ellie began diddling her nubbin and Erin’s back arched as her nipples screamed and an involuntary moan escaped her lips. The arousal made her night in the bar with Lorenz seem like nothing at all. It was savage and overwhelming and awesome.
“She wants to escape, girls!” Ellie announced. “Help!”
Erin couldn’t begin to object with Ellie’s fingers expertly manipulating what she was once again beginning to think of as the center of the universe. Candyass knelt before Erin, put her hands on her hips and began to work her tongue beneath Ellie’s fingers. The Hispanic woman stood and began sucking on the nipple that Ellie had abandoned. The Asian girl wormed her head between Ellie and Erin, then wormed her tongue into Erin’s asshole. Erin squeaked and squealed and quivered and came. It was like no orgasm she had ever dreamed of. Orgasm wasn’t even a word for it, but there was no word for it. It had as much in common with her previous climaxes as a nuclear missile had with a bottle rocket. She was utterly devastated, left a quivering, mewling mass when at last the paroxysms of pleasure subsided.
She was unable to walk, unable to stand, unable to speak, unable to think, lost in a pink fog of afterglow. The four bimbos who had done this to her held her up, guided her unresisting to a wheelchair, and rolled her out of the shower. The mirrors that took up one entire wall showed a stacked, stupidly grinning girl with a mass of wet red curls rolling by. Erin didn’t know who she was, but she liked her. She giggled and waved as the girl rolled along beside her. The girl waved back. Maybe she would be her friend.
Once again, Erin awoke bound, with fuzzy, fleshy memories sifting through her head. The massive jugs jutting from her chest and the red curls framing her face denied her desperate desire to believe it had all been some horrid nightmare.
She was still naked but this time she was dry and sitting in a chair, with straps around her wrists, ankles, elbows and forehead. A bit of wiggling confirmed that they had once again inserted foreign objects in her anus and vagina. Unfortunately, the wiggling also reminded her just how sensitive those two orifices had become. A shiver went through her whole body as she was bombarded with pleasure. She sat panting for a moment, trying to regain control of herself. She couldn’t let the sensations overwhelm her again if she was going to escape this over-sexed house of horrors. She had to think! That was her strength. Escape was just another problem to solve.
First, she had to determine where she was.
The room was smaller than Lorenz’ horrific body shop where she had first found herself in bondage. There was only an empty chair with a small consul connected to it in front of her. Of course, she couldn’t tell for certain what might be behind her, since she couldn’t move her head, but it felt like a small room and she couldn’t hear anyone behind her. She was probably alone. Alone was good. Alone meant there was no one to stroke her and fondle her and suck at her and drive her crazy with lust. Oh god, the things those women had done to her, the way it had felt….
No, Erin told herself. She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about how good it had felt, how her will had dissolved in the face of that army of tongues invading her from every side.
She shuddered. She had to focus. Focus on her anger at the way that bastard had kidnapped her, drugged her, mutilated her. He had no right!
The door open and Lorenz entered, trailed by a small, bald man with round glasses.
“BASTARD!!!” she screamed. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?”
“But Erin, I told you exactly how I did it to you,” he said in an infuriatingly calm tone. “I really thought you were smart enough to understand!”
The man behind him snorted derisively. But Erin kept her focus on Lorenz. Her hatred for him was her salvation, she knew. It was what would keep her sane.
“You…you know what I mean!” she told the mad scientist. “You can’t just change a person without their permission! It’s unethical! It’s monstrous!”
“Well, that is a dilemma,” he conceded. “But do I ask permission of the person you were, the person you are, or the person you will be? You’ve disregarded the temporal axis in posing your ethical problem.”
“What?” Erin asked. “That’s bullshit! That makes no sense!”
“Not everything has to make sense, sweet thing,” he told her. “If you’d just calm down, I think you’d start to realize that.”
He slowly approached her as the little man sat in the chair, looking amused.
“Don’t you touch me!” she told Lorenz as it became apparent that was his intention.
“And again, we see another dimension of the ethical dilemma of permission,” Lorenz said. “What part of you do I ask permission from? Do I ask permission of your brain or of those lovely new titties of yours? To me, the answer is clear. I don’t want to touch your brain. And your titties want me to touch them, don’t they?”
He ran a thumb down her cleavage and along the inside of her left breast until her reached her nipple and squeezed.
“Nuh!….nuh!…Oooooooooooooooh!” Erin exclaimed, as she shuddered and came.
“You see, dear one, where before you’re clitoris was the only part powerful enough to control your brain, now every inch of you can bombard your mind with sweet, delicious pleasure,” he said.
“You…you.. you can’t…” she said. “I won’t believe you! I am not my body! I’m Dr. Erin Weaver! I’m a smart, independent woman and you can’t change that, no matter what you do to my body!”
Lorenz sighed.
“You’re right, of course,” he conceded. “I’ve done everything I can with the technology I have. I’ve made your nervous system a symphony of delights. I’ve made you beautiful beyond imagining. But I can’t touch your soul. Oh well.”
He shrugged, turned about and left the room.
Erin blinked. What had just happened? Had she won?
“He’s really too hard on himself,” said the little man with the glasses.
Erin’s eyes jumped to him. She had been so shocked by Lorenz’ sudden departure, she had almost forgotten the other man was there.
“The pleasure signals coming toward your brain are so strong that your personality really can’t help but eventually be transformed by it,” the man continued. “Were we to just turn you out on some street corner at this point, I’d give you about a two weeks before you were a completely out of control nymphomaniac. The brain knows what it likes and is willing to change to get it.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Erin asked.
“That isn’t the question we’re here to answer, Sugar,” the man said. “We’re here to figure out who you are.”
“I know who I am!” she spat.
“Really, Sugar, I don’t think you do,” he said sympathetically. “You seem very confused to me.”
“I’m not…” she began as he tapped a button. “Cuuuuuuuh….”
Gravity seemed to be pulling at her from a dozen directions at once and her stomach flip-flopped. Her vision tunneled and her ears buzzed. At the back of her head, something throbbed.
“You’re very confused Sugar,” the man repeated, though now it seemed to come from far away and from all directions. “You’re thinking too hard and it’s confusing you. You don’t know who you are or what you want because you’re thinking to hard about it.”
Her eyes went wide and felt dry. She couldn’t think at all. She had no idea how long she sat there, but at last it stopped.
“I…I…what was that?” she asked.
“What was what, Sugar?” he asked her.
“You…you did something to me,” she said. “You made me…confused.”
“I’m not trying to confuse you, Sugar,” he said. “I’m trying to help you find some clarity!”
“Stop calling me Sugar!” she said. “I’m not your sugar!”
“Of course not, Sugar” he said. “You’re everyone’s Sugar.”
He hit another button and the devices in her ass and pussy started buzzing, along with the thing at the base of her skull and the universe exploded in a shower of pink stars as her body was racked with overwhelming pleasure. She quivered and moaned and melted.
Panting, her inflated chest heaving, she struggled to focus her eyes.
“That…that was…D…don’t do that…” she stammered.
“Oh Sugar, didn’t you like it?” the man asked, concerned. “I do so want you to enjoy our time together.”
Didn’t she like it? Of course she liked it! She’d never felt so good. But she’d never felt so out of control either, even with all the shit she had been through since meeting Lorenz. She didn’t want this new bastard to do it again because she was afraid she’d loose what little sense of self she still had!
“MmmMy Name Is Erin!” she stammered out.
“Oh…is it?” the man asked as if he was genuinely confused. “My mistake I suppose. It’s just that you’re so sweet! All proper Southern girls are sweet, aren’t they? Didn’t your Mamma teach you to be sweet?”
Her Mamma? This caught her off guard. She avoided thinking about home and childhood since moving away from home. Everyone expecting her to be something different, some sort of southern belle who would find herself a nice husband and dote on him like her Mamma had on her Daddy. Her Daddy had always called her Sweetie. Kind of like this man called her Sugar.
NO!
“You’re nothing like my Daddy!” she yelled defiantly.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Of course not, Miss!” he exclaimed. “I would never dream of trying to take the place of your Daddy! I know how important a relationship is between a little girl and her Daddy. You can trust me!”
Trust him? He hit the button again and again she was racked with overwhelming pleasure.
When the room once again resolved out of the pink fog, she wanted so much to go back to that happy place she was leaving. She could go back, she knew. The man could send her back if only she would trust him.
But no. No! She would not trust him. She would not beg him to do it again. She would not loose herself over this!
“D..Don’t do that!” she stammered, fighting the urge to beg for more.
“Oh, don’t you like it Sugar?” he asked innocently. “I thought you liked it. You seem to like it. Most girls like it. You want to be like most girls, don’t you?”
Most girls liked to be tied to a chair and forced to come until they couldn’t think straight? That was crazy!
“Nnnnot most girls!” she managed.
“Oh, you aren’t like most girls, are you Sugar,” Corbin said, shaking a mournful head. “Yes, I forgot. I had heard you were some sort of scientist.
“Yes!” she said, having nearly forgotten herself. “Scientist. I’m a scientist.”
She struggled to focus on her career, her insights at the bench, her defense of her thesis, the respect she had earned in the community. She was Erin. Erin the scientist.
“Of course you are, Sugar! I was wondering if you could explain something to me,” Corbin said. “My expertise is in psychology, which is a soft science as you know I’m sure. Physics has never been my strong suit. So I’ve always wondered about the whole ‘nature abhors a vacuum’ concept.”
“What?” Erin asked, disgusted and confused.
“I mean, it seems rather a stretch to attribute such strong emotions to nature,” the psychologist elaborated. “I wonder if there might be something deeper in the axiom. It’s the psychologist in me, you know. Always looking for the hidden meaning. But perhaps I don’t have the physics to understand a simple concept. I know it isn’t precisely your field but you do have a years worth of college physics, so tell me: Does she really abhor vacuuming or does she only dislike it?”
Erin stared, dumb founded. Her she was, struggling to maintain her battered sense of self and he was asking…what the hell was he asking?
“She?” Erin asked.
“Yes, She. Of course She. Nature is always represented as female, I’m sure you know, educated lass that you are,” he said. “Mother Nature and all that. Hard science tells us she abhors to vacuum, but soft science may find a deeper meaning behind it. I hypothesize that in it lies the answer to one of the great questions is what is female nature?”
“But…but…” Erin protested. There was something wrong with his whole line of reasoning but she just couldn’t quite place it.
“Yes, precisely!” he nodded as if she had just provided some profound insight. “It’s absurd on the face of it! If Nature truly abhorred to vacuum, then vacuums would not exist in Nature! But clearly they do exist! So, then, perhaps the saying is actually a corruption of an older saying. To wit, ‘Nature is a whore who vacuums’. It makes a lot more sense when you think of it.”
Did it? She honestly wasn’t sure. She had been investing so much energy into resisting Lorenz trying to make her think she was some sort of nymphomaniacal bimbo and now there was this completely different man trying to convince her of things that made no sense whatsoever but with all the throbbing and buzzing coming from the chair she really couldn’t even be certain that they didn’t make sense.
“I…I don’t understand…” she said.
“Good, Sugar!” he praised, and a little ripple of pleasure shot through her. “Good! They say the first step toward wisdom is realizing how much you don’t know. So it stands to reason that a girl as wise as you would realize how little you understand. You’re just getting smarter and smarter! Soon you’ll be so smart you won’t understand anything!”
Sugar crossed her eyes. What he said had a ring of truth to it. At least, she had heard something like it before. And it did seem to logically follow….
“But back to the question at hand!” Corbin interrupted her confused line of thought. “Nature is a whore that vacuums and Nature is female, so it is female nature to be a whore that vacuums! So what does a vacuum do, Sugar?”
“It...it sucks?” she asked, unable to think through his twisting, twirling logic.
“Yes! Sugar gets a gold star!” he pushed a button and she came.
“Next question, what does a whore do?” Corbin asked.
“A…a whore…” Sugar said, still reeling from her latest orgasm.
“You can do this, Sugar!” he coaxed. “Same as the vacuum. A whore…”
“Sucks?” Sugar asked.
“Yes! Another right answer! Gold star and a smiley face!” he exclaimed, again pushing a button and holding it down so that she came even harder and even longer, convulsing with pleasure in the chair.
“You’ve got it, Sugar! You’ve really broken through the problem! And it works! It makes so much sense! Nature’s a whore who vacuums. Nature is female, so it is female nature to whore and vacuum. Vacuums suck, whores suck, so what is the most natural thing for a female to do?”
Sugar grinned. She knew this one! It was all so logical.
“Suck!” she declared. “Suck and suck and suck!”
“Yes!” Corbin said, throwing his hands up. “A triple plus for Sugar!”
Sugar giggled as he once again hit the button and she was buffeted about in a euphoric torrent, celebrating her success.
When at last her eyes focused, Corbin was standing beside her, stroking her cheek. A large, realistically-molded dildo was on a mechanical arm in front of her. She reached up to hold it, not even wondering that her hands were no longer bound.
“This is your reward for passing your test, Sugar,” Corbin told her. “A clever bimbo like you knows what to do with it, right?”
Sugar giggled.
“Suck!” she exclaimed. It was always the right answer. As she took the thing into her mouth, it throbbed pleasantly, as did all the delicious parts of the chair, and from hidden speakers, the Archie’s began to play:
Sugar, Sugar, Honey, Honey, Sugar, Sugar, Honey, Honey
She worked the dildo down her throat. It was her nature. It was what she did. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t understand anything. She didn’t have to. And it felt so good!
“So where is he taking you?” Muffy asked as she took the big rollers out of Sugar’s hair.
“He can take me anywhere he wants to, Ah’m su-ure!” Sugar drawled in the exaggerated southern accent Mr. Corbin had helped her perfect, then giggled.
“He took me in the elevator yesterday,” Poontang bragged there at Sugar’s feet where she was painting her toenails pink. “God I love his dick! I mean, I never met a dick I didn’t like, but Mr. Lorenz is just MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!”
All three bimbos giggled, fondly remembering the various times they had been fucked by Mr. Lorenz. Sugar had fewer times to remember, of course, but she was sure to add another that evening. Hopefully several!
Still, the time she could remember had been wonderful, when Mr. Corbin had led her, still buzzing from her time in the chair, to kneel before him and beg him to let her suck his cock. He had asked her if she really wanted to and she had laughed. Of course she wanted to, needed to, lived to. It was her nature. It was every woman’s true nature. And he had consented and she had sucked and sucked and sucked at his monstrous cock until he exploded inside of her, filling and fulfilling her. Since that magical moment, everyone had been so helpful teaching her how to be the best bimbo she could be, but Mr. Lorenz had been standoffish and Sugar was somewhat sad that he seemed to be done with her. At least, as sad as she could be when she was so deliriously happy most of the time. But then Candyass had told her that he wanted to take her out that evening and she should dress up nice.
The BimboTech girls had volunteered to help. Candyass had bathed her and given her an enema, because a girl never new when she might need one. Muffy had done her hair and trimmed her pussy. Poontang had done her nails and makeup. ChiChi had selected a sheer pink two-piece fringed with pink-dyed ostrich feathers. Chunky-heeled strappy pink sandals would help her keep her balance while she was still learning to walk in feminine footwear. Stilettos still gave her some trouble and she wanted this night to be perfect!
Sugar felt so grateful to her new friends when she arrived in the doorway of Mr. Lorenz’ office and he stopped drinking his coffee in mid-slurp to ogle her. He liked her! He really liked her! A trickle of moisture ran down her inside leg from her naked twat.
“Hello Sugar!” he said. “Don’t you look sweet!”
She giggled and squirmed deliciously, then twirled slowly about so he could see her from every side.
“I’ll just grab my coat and we’ll head out,” he said.
As Mr. Lorenz drove his little red sports car, Sugar babbled in true bimbo fashion about all the delicious things the BimboTech girls were teaching her how to do. At a stop light, Sugar licked her lips and slipped a pink-nailed hand to his inner thigh and delighted to find him half erect. She giggled and gushed.
Her delight was short lived, however, as Lorenz removed her hand and told her not to get in the way of his shifting. Sugar pouted but refrained from touching him again. Driving was a mystery to her. Once she understood that she was a bimbo, Mr. Corbin had driven home several important things in the chair so that she would never forget. Among them was a rule that all BimboTech girls knew by heart: Bimbos mustn’t drive!
Sugar squeezed her legs together and started babbling again
“So, like, at first ChiChi brought a little clingy white dress that really showed off mah new boobies nice, but Poontang said that with mah skin being so pale, white wouldn’t really work with the make up scheme she had in mind. So then Ah said ‘why not green’ cuz my eyes are green and all, but Muffy was wearing green and she didn’t think there should be two red-heads wearing green or else if might be confusing <giggle> which Ah guess was kind of silly since Muffy wasn’t even coming with! But then ChiChi was all, like, what did Poontang think would work with the makeup she wanted to use and Poontang was all, like ‘Pink’ and ChiChi and Muffy were all ‘No Way!’ and Poontang was all ‘Yes Way! All bimbos look good in pink! You just have to find the right pink! There’s like fifty million different pinks!’ and so ChiChi took me to that humongous closet place and looked at like fifteen hundred different...”
“Mary Jane?” Mr. Lorenz asked.
“Yes Gary?” said a feminine voice from the dashboard.
Sugar squeaked and jumped in her seat. “Is there a girl in there?” she asked.
“It’s just a computer, Sugar,” he said. “Calm down. Mary Jane, please look up sleep code for Bimbo designated Sugar.”
“Excuse me, what does that...” Sugar started to ask.
“Sleep code for bimbo Sugar is Intelligent Cottoncandy Design,” the car said.
There was a rushing in Sugar’s ears and everything went black as her head slumped forward.
When Sugar awoke, they were outside a tittie bar called NumNums. She giggled and checked her makeup. Mr. Lorenz helped her up on her heels and led her in.
“Hi Mr. Lorenz!” said the hatcheck girl, a tiny Persian woman with mountainous titties.
“Hello, Avideh,” he said, giving her his rumpled trench coat and Sugar’s inadequate but adorable jacket. “You getting any?”
The girl giggled.
“Yeah, but I can always handle more if you’re interested,” she said, pulling back her shoulders to better display her rack.
Lorenz chuckled.
“Maybe on your next tune up,” he said. “Your back is going to need some more work soon.”
“Gary!” exclaimed a man who came in the door. “How’s it going!”
“Well hello, Commissioner!” Mr. Lorenz grinned. “You’re not bored with Officer Cupcake already, are you?”
The man chuckled.
“No, not at all, but I loaned her to the mayor for a little private party he’s throwing,” the man said. “So I thought I’d come by to give Muffin her alimony. She likes getting it in singles now, of course.”
“That’s very honorable of you,” Mr. Lorenz said, then chuckled. Sugar giggled, not getting the joke but delighted that her date was happy.
“This is a new one, isn’t she?” the man said, gesturing to Sugar.
Sugar giggled and waved, hoping he liked her.
“Fresh off the line,” Mr. Lorenz confirmed.
“Anything I need to be concerned about?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t be,” Mr. Lorenz said. “I picked her up out of town. But if you get a call from North Carolina, I’d appreciate your lack of diligence.”
“Always glad to put things off for you guys,” the man said. “Now I better go get a chair and a beer before the ex is on stage!”
“Enjoy her!” Mr. Lorenz encouraged, then he led Sugar into the smoky room.
He took her to a spacious, elegant booth with a good view of the main stage and a ‘reserved’ sign on a brass poll in the middle of the table that was whisked away by a lingerie-clad blonde waitress as they approached.
“Your usual Mr. Lorenz?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes, Trinket,” he said. “And bring something strong and colorful for the bimbo.”
She giggled and scurried off to fill the order. Mr. Lorenz sat and gestured for Sugar to do the same. The bench was soft and supple leather that felt nice against her bare skin. The D.J. announced a dancer named Velvet and toned, dark-skinned woman
Mr. Lorenz pointed to the dark-skinned woman who strutted and jiggled on to the stage.
“Look at her,” he said. “Just look at her! Isn’t she incredible?”
Sugar looked at the Nubian goddess as she pranced and frolicked about the stage, spinning joyfully around the pole, drinking in the hungry gazes of her audience. The nice BimboTech people had taught her to appreciate a nice piece of ass and Velvet certainly was one. Sugar could truthfully agree that she was incredible. Not that she would ever even think to contradict Mr. Lorenz.
“When they brought her into me, she was 63 years old!” he exclaimed. “Three hundred and thirty fucking three pounds! Stretch marks all over her, funky-ass scars and type II diabetes. I thought Fink had to be kidding! But he’s all: ‘Come on, Gary! You’re my miracle worker! I know you can do it! Take all the time you need!’ as if time was the only thing I needed to make something out of what she was. But damned if I didn’t pull it off! I had her in the tank 16 hours a day for two weeks straight! I swear I changed out over a thousand liters of medium and when Fink saw how much it cost he damned near shit his fancy-assed suit. But I did it! Stripped her down to nearly nothing and rebuilt her from the ground up!”
Sugar squealed and clapped, because it was obvious that Mr. Lorenz was proud of himself and wanted to be applauded. But instead of basking in her adoration, he sighed wistfully.
“You have no idea how hard it was, do you,” he said.
Sugar chewed her lower lip and tried to look adorably stupid, the way Tittiefuck had told her to do when she didn’t know what she was supposed to say.
“I actually managed to cure type 2 diabetes, and I did it as a side project!” he said, seeming angry and Sugar couldn’t begin to guess why. “Any biomedical company in the world would KILL to have me! But I can’t even publish the techniques, because it would raise too many questions in places Fink hasn’t managed to slip his slimy tentacles into yet. You…you would have gotten it. You would have understood just how incredible it was. God, if you were a man, I bet we would have hit it off smashingly! But I…I just really can’t handle a woman being smarter than me. It just…it does something to me. Fink knew it from the start. He used it to convince me to go along with his crazy scheme. He still uses it to manipulate me. Corbin says I have some serious Freudian issues that I really should deal with. But I really hate head-shrinkers, you know?”
Sugar didn’t know, but she giggled and nodded anyway.
Lorenz chuckled. Maybe this was her in?
“Can Ah suck your dick?” she asked. That should make him feel better, whatever it was that was bothering him.
He laughed loud and hard this time, shaking his head.
“Well, that’s the real reason I went along with Fink when it comes down to it, isn’t it?” he said. “I just really like getting my dick sucked. Come on, little bimbo. They built the wall around this booth for just this reason.”
Sugar giggled and ducked down under the table. She slipped Mr. Lorenz’ humongous cock out of his pants. It was a little shy for some reason, but with all the skills she’d gained recently, she soon had it long and hard and buried deep in her adoring throat. Mr. Lorenz stroked the luscious red hair he had given her as he admired another of his masterpieces dancing on stage and Sugar was sure that whatever had been bothering him wasn’t bothering him anymore. And nothing was bothering her either, of course. She had everything she wanted right between her lips.
Mr. Lorenz eventually gave up the goods and Sugar swallowed gratefully, quivering with delight.
‘Luv to swallow’ the happy voice in her head gushed ‘Tastes so good!’
“Thank you, Sugar,” said Mr. Lorenz as she crawled back up from under the table.
“Why, the pleasure’s all mine, Ah’m sure!” she drawled and she thrilled at the small orgasm the phrase triggered. Mr. Corbin had told her that he didn’t usually let a bimbo say her own trigger words, but he made an exception in her case because she was so sweet.
Trinket brought their drinks. Sugar’s was served in a brandy snifter the size of a small fishbowl. The liquid inside was an unearthly blue color and the rim was decorated with candied fruit. A long, curlicued novelty straw protruded from it and Sugar took a sip. It was sugary-sweet and profoundly potent.
“Can I offer either of you anything to eat?” the waitress asked and discretely lifted her short skirt to reveal her pink-lipped, blonde-fringed pussy.
“Well, pie might make a great dessert, but right now I’m in the mood for a garlic burger and Sugar ought to eat a real dinner to keep her energy up, since I haven’t quite yet developed a bimbo who can survive on only jism and booze.”
Sugar giggled and so did Trinket, though she did look a little disappointed.
“Do they have anything Southern?” Sugar asked hopefully.
“They make a damned fine chicken-fried steak,” Mr. Lorenz suggested.
“Ooooh! Well that would be just lovely!” Sugar said. “I just love a nice hot piece of meat melting in my mouth!”
Trinket giggled in agreement and pranced of to fill the order.
“Of course, I’m not all that interested in making a bimbo who runs on sperm,” Lorenz confided. “I could probably do it, if I adjusted a few digestive enzymes and then hid slow-release vitamin and mineral packs in her fun bags. You’d be amazed at the tech I can hide in a decent pair of tits. She’d need to be recharged every few months or so, but it’s feasible. But the bimbos tell me one of the things they like most about the modifications I make to their bodies, other than the ability to fuck for hours without getting sore, is that they can eat anything they want and not loose their figures. Any extra calories a BimboTech girl can’t burn off with vigorous fucking goes straight to padding her tits.”
Sugar nodded in enthusiastic admiration.
“Ah declare, Mr. Lorenz, you’re just the smartest man Ah’ve ever known!” she gushed. “And to think you use all that smarts to make lil’ ‘ol bimbos like me purty! You’re just a saint!”
“Well, I do what I can, Sugar,” he smiled. “I do what I can.”
The D.J. announced that Muffin was next on the stage. Out strutted a platinum-blonde bimbo with tits the size and shape of volleyballs and an ass like two rising mounds of dough. Her hair was a crazy mass of curls and her eyes were a shiny, vacant blue. She jiggled across the stage in a frilly pale-blue outfit and lost little time in unleashing her bounding boobies to the delight of the crowd. They tossed dollar bills at her as she giggled and bounced her tremendous rack about the stage and swung around the brass pole and railing. Sugar sipped at her drink and admired the bimbo’s kinetic frolic and envied how the men drooled at her. They wanted to fuck her. Sugar was sure of it. How would she ever choose?
“So, do you think you’d like to do that, Sugar?” Mr. Lorenz asked.
Sugar giggled.
“Little ol’ me? Dance up there in front of all those horny men?” she asked. “Why, Ah declare, Ah don’t rightly know if Ah could dance near as purty as all these fine ladies, but Ah surely would enjoy all those nice gentlemen admirin’ me!”
“Oh, they’d admire you all right,” Mr. Lorenz assured her. “The thing is we need to find something for you to do. I had a mind to recommend you as one of those spokes-bimbos for one of those biotech supply companies, in sort of a full-circle poetic sort of thing, but your will was so strong that Corbin had to really push things. By the time you cracked, the momentum took you deep into bimboslutland and you’re not likely to make it back close enough to the border to have any hope of holding a regular job.”
“Well can’t you just be my sugardaddy?” Sugar asked. “Ah’d be awful sweet to you, Ah declare!”
Mr. Lorenz chuckled.
“No one could be sweeter, I’m sure,” he said. “But I don’t like to have more than one or two house bimbos at a time and never for more than a couple weeks at a time. You really couldn’t be much use to me in the shop. Not now, anyway. That’s the thing, really. I’d always be wondering what your original self would think about things.”
“But that’s silly, Mr. Lorenz!” Sugar protested. “Girls don’t think!”
Lorenz shook his head.
“Drink your drink, Sugar,” he said.
Sugar dutifully sucked down the blue stuff until she could feel her brain start to float in it. The music throbbed and the dancers danced and Sugar’s wish that Lorenz would keep her faded in the bubbles of her bimbo mind. Their food arrived and Sugar wolfed hers down, hoping she would find a way to work the calories off soon. The dancing was making her horny.
She was sucking gravy from her fingers, waiting for Trinket to bring her another fishbowl full of liquor, when a man walked by and Mr. Lorenz called him up. Sugar’s nipples and clit popped up in interest. Was this someone new to fuck?
“Sean! This is Sugar!” Mr. Lorenz said to the clean-cut muscular man. “Sugar, this is Mr. Bunker. He owns the club! ”
“Well Ah’m just delighted to meet you Ah’m sure!” Sugar gushed, sticking out her chest so that he could get a good look at her titties. “You have such a lovely place here!”
“Why thank you, Sugar,” said the owner. “You wouldn’t happen to be from the south, would you?”
Sugar gasped prettily, lifting a well-manicured hand to her bosom.
“Whah you clever man!” she said. “How evah did you guess?”
The man chuckled.
“Just a hunch,” he said. “You have a certain ‘Southern Belle’ quality about you. You definitely inspire the South to rise again, I’ll give you that much.”
Sugar giggled appreciatively at his joke, though she wasn’t quite sure she got it.
“Well, Ah am indeed a Southern girl, Sir,” she said. “To be perfectly truthful with you, since Ah met the nice folk at BimboTech, Ah’m not precisely certain about the specifics. Not that Ah mind at all, mind you. Ah think Ah might be from Georgia on account of Ah understand that the juiciest peaches come from Georgia, which is a polite way of informing you that mah fuzzy red cunnie is just dripping and Ah would be right delighted if your pecker would make its acquaintance!”
She smiled winsomely at him and hoped.
“Oh she’s just precious, isn’t she Gary?” Mr. Bunker said. “Are you trying to place her or is this a social call?”
“She’s kind of special to me so I’d hate to see her shipped of to Saudi or UAE. You think you could make use of her?” Lorenz asked.
“Of course!” he said. “I could probably give her a job too.”
The men chuckled. Sugar giggled. Mr. Bunker slapped the table.
“Climb on up, Sugar, and show us a little southern charm,” he said.
Sugar tittered nervously. She hadn’t expected this. Poontang had promised to teach her to strip but somehow always ended up tying her to a brass rail and fucking her with a strap-on instead. But it was a girl’s duty to do her best to fulfill every desire a man had. She knew that, deep in her soul where Mr. Corbin had written it. Prepared or not, she was going to give it her best shot. She so hoped she didn’t mess up so badly that Mr. Bunker didn’t want to fuck her. She was really horny!
She grabbed hold of the brass pole in the middle of the table and climbed up on to the bench, then stepped carefully onto the table with her soaring heels and platforms. Her brain sloshed about in the alcohol it was floating in and her eyes went wide. She had never been good with heights. She turned about to face Mr. Lorenz and Mr. Bunker, not letting loose her grip on the pole, just releasing it with one hand long enough to turn about so her back was to the pole and the steeper drop towards the stage, then gripping with both hands at the small of her back. Her heart was racing and the room was wobbling. She closed her eyes tight. She couldn’t do this! She was drunk and scared of heights and didn’t know how to dance!
She kept her eyes closed and tried to calm her breathing. She needed not to thing about it. Thinking never helped anything. She needed to stop listening to her head and start listening to her cunt. As she focused on her pussy, it began to sway back and forth in rhythm to the music, bringing her hips along for the ride, causing her ass to rub against the brass pole through the thin fabric of her skirt in a way that felt rather nice. But she still couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes or let go of the pole.
The music suddenly stopped mid-song. Sugar’s eyes fluttered open. Mr. Bunker was putting away his cell phone. Had she failed before she had even begun to start? But the club owner was smiling at her encouragingly. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to think?
Stupid bimbo! She WASN’T supposed to think! And then suddenly the familiar opening to Molly Hatchet’s ‘Flirtin’ with Disaster’ started playing on the clubs sound system. She smiled gratefully at Mr. Bunker, who raised his glass of bourbon to her, then she let go of the pole with one hand and started using her head for what it was good for: swinging her mass of curly red hair in counterpoint to the swaying of her massive rack in its sheer pink top. Worry drained out of her as the southern rock caressed and fondled her body. Her generous hips swayed to the music. Taking a wider stance on her platform heels, she let go of the pole with her other hand and locked her fingers behind her head, leaning back against the pole as she squirmed down it until she was sitting on air and Mr. Bunker and Mr. Lorenz had a clear view up her skirt. She giggled when they both looked, reaching down to lift the feather-fringed hem and give them a better view of her peach. Then she popped up, standing straight, pulling her top off in one continuous motion, sending her boobs into a kinetic frenzy. She spun her top around one finger as she tromped around the pole, then tossed it playfully to Mr. Bunker. She swung her left leg up along the pole and leaned in so that her titties were bisected by her leg. She licked her own calf as if it were a giant cock.
Then she let go of the pole, her fear of heights completely forgotten, her mind in neutral as she pranced and jiggled about the stage, the music guiding her electrified flesh. She grabbed hold of the pole and spun about it at a reckless speed, her hair flying out, her back arched, her titties trying to bound in several directions at once.
She stood upright once more, though her head was still spinning, and while holding the pole with her right hand, she snaked the left down the front of her skirt, rocking her hips from side to side as she petted her swollen pussy, then grasped the fabric of the skirt from the inside and worked it down her hips. Once it was low enough, she squeezed her legs together so that the skirt dropped down around her feet as she looked up at Mr. Lorenz and Mr. Bunker with a flirtatious grin. The smiled wolfily back and Sugar shivered with delight. She spun around the pole once more, then wrapped her right leg around it and started humping it. She slid her titties on either side of the pole and wrapped her arms around it underneath her rack, putting her face to one smile so she could smile at her audience of two, and when Danny Joe Brown sang ‘bop bop bop yeah’ she bounced up one tittie, then the other, then the first, finishing off with a pelvic thrust.
The music over, Sugar smiled nervously at Mr. Bunker. He set his empty drink down and patted his knee invitingly. Sugar squealed and stepped down to the bench. Her right foot slipped out from under her, she lost her balance and fell over Mr. Bunker and Mr. Lorenz. She looked up nervously, but the men chuckled good-naturedly and she giggled and said ‘oopsie!’ in true bimbo fashion. Mr. Bunker started rubbing her naked ass with one hand so Sugar wasn’t inclined to try and get back up. She squirmed and pressed her ass against his hand as she made happy little noises. When Trinket brought another bowl of liquory blue goodness, Mr. Lorenz had her sit it on the bench so she could sip it from her prone position. He started playing with her red curls, which she absolutely loved. She drank deeply and sighed in contentment.
“Well, the girl can dance,” Mr. Bunker said to Mr. Lorenz. “She needs to gain some skills, obviously, but she has a great sense of rhythm and her facial expressions are pure money.”
“All my girls have great senses of rhythm,” Mr. Lorenz said.
“Avideh doesn’t,” Mr. Bunker countered.
“She has great rhythm when she’s horizontal,” Mr. Lorenz objected. “She just has a lousy sense of balance. And that wasn’t my fault. Corbin turned the power up way too high on her when he refit her after she got sent back to us from Tehran.”
“Yes, well, we found a use for her,” Mr. Bunker said, dismissing the subject. “And we can certainly find a use for sweet little Sugar here. We can skip the lap dance audition, I think. This is clearly a money maker right here.”
He slapped Sugar’s ass and she squeaked, then giggled.
“It’s incredible work! Or is it natural?”
“Oh no!” Mr. Lorenz said. “She had a scrawny little ass when I met her. I spent a lot of time on her, every inch of her. Like I said, she’s special to me.”
“I’m sure she’ll be special to a lot of our customers as well!” Mr. Bunker said. “I’d hire her on the spot, but you know traditionally there is the final part of the audition. She isn’t so special to you that you object to that, is she? The VIPs really look forward to new girls. It’s one of the reasons I can charge so much for their VIP cards.”
“No, no,” Mr. Lorenz said. “If I wanted to keep her for myself I’d have done so. Corbin made sure that she needs more than even I can give her. I wouldn’t deprive her of it. I don’t think she’s had one yet, but I know she’s been programmed to respond.”
“Excellent!” Mr. Bunker said, slapping her ass again. “I’ll set it up!”
He made another call on his cell phone. When the latest song ended, the DJ made an announcement:
“Attention NumNums VIP members! The lovely Sugar is being considered to become the latest NumNum girl! But here at NumNums, a new girl doesn’t get hired unless our VIP members put their seals of approval on her, right guys?”
There was some raucous cheering in the crowd.
“So anyone wishing to cast a ballot for Sugar, bring your VIP card and your voting apparatus to the VIP room. Sugar’s VIP audition will begin in 15 minutes.”
Sugar didn’t know what to think about that, but then she reminded herself that she didn’t have to.
“Sit up and finish your drink, Sugar,” Mr. Lorenz told her. “These things usually go better if you’re drunk.”
Sugar giggled and complied, sitting between Mr. Lorenz and Mr. Bunker, setting her drink on the table between her now naked titties and sucking on the straw as hard as she could. She had just finished and was trying to ask if she was trying to ask Mr. Lorenz if drunk enough, though she was having trouble getting her mouth to say the ‘dr’ sound, when Trinket arrived with a tiny outfit made of shiny black PVC along with some spike-heeled knee-high boots of the same material.
“Some of our VIPs like to have something to take off,” Mr. Bunker explained as Mr. Lorenz slid out and Trinket slid into his place, helping Sugar slip on the top which consisted of matching spider webs of PVC stretched over each of her tits. The waitress slipped under table and slipped the shiny G-string onto her, taking too-short a moment to tease Sugar’s pussy with her tongue and remind her just how horny she was. Then she stripped off Sugar’s sandals and pulled the boots onto her.
Mr. Bunker slid a silk robe onto her shoulders. She was confused
“Iss very nice, Ah’m sure” she said. “But nobuzy can see mah big boobies!”
“Don’t worry, Sugar!” he said, tying the robe loosely about her waist. “It’ll come off once you’re in the room. The guys just expect you to come to them wrapped.”
Sugar giggled.
“Like a present?” she asked.
“Exactly!” Mr. Bunker said, patting her thigh. “Just like a present!”
Mr. Lorenz chose not to accompany Sugar to her VIP audition. He told her he would watch from behind a mirror, which Sugar didn’t understand at all, and promised he would visit her often at the club. He told her to always listen to Mr. Bunker, then showed the club owner something on his PDA.
Mr. Bunker smiled at Sugar and she smiled drunkenly back.
“Sugar Imprint Red-eye Gravy,” he said.
Sugar shuddered. Her eyes rolled back in her head and as she filled with warmth and utter devotion for Mr. Bunker, she came as only a BimboTech girl could.
When her eyes could focus once again, Mr. Bunker looked much hotter than Mr. Lorenz, though of course Mr. Lorenz was still hot. She didn’t feel nearly so sad about him leaving, though. She would see him again sometime and she belonged right where she was with her beloved Mr. Bunker.
Before he left, though, the scientist handed her a small purple heart-shaped tablet, telling her it would help with her audition. Sugar knew she should always be grateful when a man gave her anything to put in her mouth, so she thanked him, popped it in her mouth and swallowed it without giving it a thought. She kissed Mr. Lorenz goodbye, giggling as felt her up, and then let Mr. Bunker lead her away.
The spiked heels were hard to walk in while drunk, even with the delicious Mr. Bunker to lean on. He helpfully called over a yummy bouncer to take her other arm. It was just in time, too, as the tablet Mr. Lorenz had given her dissolved in the liquor her brain was floating in and made it fizz. The club’s music became distorted. The lights became smeared and tinged with pink. Lust and euphoria twisted about and fucked each other in the moshpit of her mind.
She floated and bounced between Mr. Bunker and the bouncer like a day-old helium balloon across the room and down a broad stairway. He opened a door labeled VIPs. A big mirror took up one wall of the softly carpeted room. A small circular platform with a brass pole and a large plush backless bench were the only furnishings but a wide variety of sex toys and lotions were on shelves built into the unmirrored walls. Sugar hardly noticed the room, though. It was the occupants that caught her attention. At least a dozen men, running the gambit of ages, builds and skin tones had their eyes on her the moment the door opened. They were all dressed identically in black cowls that completely covered the head and neck, with tiny holes for the eyes and a large one for the mouths, most of which were smiling eagerly. They were wearing nothing else.
‘COCK!’ shouted her bimbofied brain and she quivered in pavlovian anticipation.
She entered with Mr. Bunker, the bouncer hanging back.
“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Bunker with an air of formality. “It is my joyful duty to present to you Miss Sugar, one of the sweetest candidates we’ve had here at NumNums in quite a while.”
“Ah’m just so delighted t’ meet y’all!” she proclaimed. “Ya’ll looked like yer dressed to show a girl a good time, which Ah declare does my lil’ heart good, on account of mah bein’ horny as all fuck.”
The smiles of the masked men broadened and Sugar giggled.
“Now Sugar, if you become a NumNum girl, your job will be to entertain our customers’ cocks, especially those of our VIPs,” Mr. Bunker explained. “So it’s only fair that the cocks have the final say in whether or not you get the job. You have one hour. Get all of these men off and the job is yours. Can you do that Sugar?”
Sugar giggled and blushed.
“Well if Ah can’t, Mr. Bunker Sir, Ah sure am gonna have one helluva time tryin!”
“That’s the spirit!” said Mr. Bunker, patting her ass. “All right then, boys. Here’s Sugar!”
He pulled off her robe revealing her zaftig glory and Sugar shivered, causing her tits to wiggle within their black PVC webbing. The VIPs started visibly drooling.
“Well boys,” she said. “If ya’ll would be so kind as to fuck me, I surely would appreciate it.”
And then hands and mouths and cocks were coming at her from every side. She giggled and squealed and moaned. She grunted and sucked and humped and swirled. She licked and groped and rubbed and pumped. Soon, cocks were rewarding her with hot, gooey goodness from every side and in every hole. Everything was going to be just fine.
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