Alluring Bimbo

NYMPHOMERCIAL by Jafar

“Hi!” the pretty little blonde bubbled for the camera. “You probably recognize me as the hot little pop music princess that everyone wanted to just boff silly on my eighteenth birthday. ‘Course I thought that painting myself as a virgin would help promote my career. Well ... it didn’t. But it did lead me to discover a procedure that I’d like to share with you.”

The camera view cut to her left and she turned to follow it. “I’ll tell you more about my personal experience a little later into the program. Right now, I’d like to share other young ladies’ comments with you about Davis Surgicals’ clitorization procedure.” Bright, enthusiastic grin.

Cut to a perky-eyed brunette. “Ohgod, yeah! Since I was clitorized, I’ve been so ... well, clitoral!” Giggle.

Cut to a thirty-something blonde. “Oh, Bethany, let me tell you: Before I was clitorized, I was a business woman with a blood pressure of 190 and the kind of castrating bitch that my daddy always told me not to become. Since Dr Bentley’s MIRACULOUS procedure, my world is FULL of LIFE again! AND orgasms! (giggle) Now, instead of carrying my campaign of hatred against men into the world, trying to make them pay for some imagined wrong, I just stay at home, diddle my slit and wait for my man to get home and FUCK ME SILLY! GOD! I’m juicing up just TALKING about it!”

“How’s your blood pressure now?” the pop princess prompted and held the microphone forward.

“Oh, MUCH better!” Significant nod. “But, Bethany, even more important than the impact it’s had on the LENGTH of my life is the way that it’s affected the QUALITY of my life!”

“And how has it done that?”

“I CUM now!” Proud beaming. “And CUM and CUM! And CUM some more! And then cum ALL OVER THE PLACE!”

Cut to a redhead in a pink halter, with freckles decorating her shoulders. “Bethany, I used to be so shy that it was painful. Before a date, I would throw up three times, just from the stress.”

“And how has Dr Bentley’s procedure helped your self-esteem, Sarah?”

“Oh, fuck self-esteem,” she flicked her hand. “It’s hard to be shy when your screaming in climax!”

“Now, Sarah, you were telling me about a technique you have for reducing stress.” The pop princess turned to the camera. “For our video audience that has never heard of Davis Surgicals, Dr Bentley’s clitorization process makes a woman’s crotch, ass—oops! Can I say ‘ass’ on camera?”—she glanced to the side, off-camera, then nodded and looked back at the camera—“Okay. So, YEAH, it makes a woman’s crotch, (finger quotes and eyes rolled upwards) buttocks (end finger quotes), lips and mouth all REALLY HOT erogenous zones!”

The camera panned back out from the princess to include the redhead again. “So tell our viewers what your technique to reduce stress is.”

“Sure! Well, whenever I get stressed and feel like throwing up, I go get a carrot and start sucking on it. Within a minute or two, I’m so turned on that I don’t give a FUCK anymore about whatever was bothering me before! I’m ready to SPREAD FOR THE WORLD!”

The pop princess reached off-camera, then held an orange root vegetable toward the redhead. “Well, Rick the camera-dude has kindly provided me with a carrot for you. Could you demonstrate?”

“I, uhm, probably oughtn’t to.” She looked the princess in the eye. “I’ll get a little crazy.”

“Oh, we’re all just wild and crazy here,” the princess moved her arms in the air. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

Swallowing hard, the redhead took the carrot and, with a deep breath of anticipation ... slipped it in her mouth. With eyes half-lidded, she slid it out, lips wrapped tightly around it like she was blowing a cock. Then in. Then out. Then in.

The redhead’s eyes moved more directly to Bethany and she started burning a hole into her with a stare of lust.

“Oh, she DOES look like that’s getting her hot,” the pop princess giggled nervously.

The redhead started taking small steps into Bethany’s personal space, making love to the carrot with her lips and tongue and to the pop princess with her searing gaze. She slid her lips off the carrot. “GOD, that’s a SEXY OUTFIT you have on there, Bethany.”

“Well, (giggle) the boys like it.” Side-to-side head shake.

“You GOTTA let me play with your tits!”

“Uh, no, you probably oughtn’t to—that will make ME a little crazy!”

“Shut up and cum, you hot bitch!” the redhead cast the carrot aside and reached for Bethany’s boobs.

“OhGOD!” the pop princess squealed, eyes fluttering as she was tit-groped.

“Somebody get that microphone!” Rick the camera-dude sighed tiredly from off-camera.

The pop princess’s teensy top came up, then she went down, a pair of redheaded lips attached to her nipple.

* * *

The perky brunette that caught the microphone smiled for the camera. “Well, it looks like our spokes-slut is sort of ... distracted ... for a little while.” She looked off-camera, and her head nodded as she listened to someone. “What? Oh, thank you!” She cupped her breasts briefly to perk them for the camera. “Well, my name is Traci with an ‘i’! And I’m one of the director’s assistants—(paying attention to off-camera, then another giggle) yeah, I guess I AM just one of his jiggling bitches. Why don’t we just step right over here while Bethany is screaming in orgasm, and Dr Bentley can explain his ground-breaking procedure for us.”

The camera followed her around about 120 degrees to show Dr Bentley at a table of a display obviously set up in a mall.

“Yahss, I am Dr Giovanni Bentley. And I am ze messiah for ze female species.”

The brunette gave him an exaggerated skeptical look. “That’s a mighty grandiose claim, Dr Bentley. What proof do you have to back it up?”

“Why don’t I bring out my first conquest—haaaar, haaaaaar, haaaaar,” the doctor laughed like a rhinoceros with a head cold—“That’s my little joke, I sometimes call my patients my conquests. Do you like it?”

“Very humorous joke, doctor. But you were bringing out your first patient.”

“Yahss, yahss.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers twice. A beautiful blonde with high heels and a few threads that hoped to grow up into a thong one day jiggled on-camera and sat on Dr Bentley’s knee.

“Hi! I’m Bambi!” she breathed past luscious dark red lips.

“Well, ‘Bambi’ is obviously a pet name,” the brunette spoke, “Nobody names their kids Bambi anymore. So what is your real name?”

The blonde looked at the doctor for permission, and he nodded.

“I am Doctor Greta Heins-Schmitterdoll, once a brain surgeon of some renown, but now just hornier than hell,” she breathed.

“A brain surgeon? That’s interesting.”

“Bambi here was a colleague of mine,”—she whimpered as he cupped a bare tit and started squeezing—“She annoyingly opposed my theories and my techniques—sort of like a raucous vulture that just wouldn’t stop screeching. One day I got irritated and demonstrated the efficacy of my techniques to her.”

“Don’t you mean ‘on her’, doctor?”

“Yahss, that too.”

“And I’ve just been too horny ever since to be the annoying pest I once was!” the blonde breathed. “Every time I’d start to disagree with Dr Bentley, he’d just grab a tit, and I’d cum! His techniques do have a way of making a girl sort of juicy!” Giggle.

The doctor gave her boob a little harder squeeze, and the blonde gasped, arched, gasped again, then screamed in gushes until she poured off his knee and onto the floor, twitching and shivering as she came.

“She ist much more palatable now. Women should not be brain surgeons,” he pronounced.

“Gosh,” the brunette stared at the ecstatic blonde, “I sure wish I could cum like that!” She turned to look directly at the camera and smiled. “Oh, WAIT! I CAN! Because I’VE been clitorized TOO!”

“Yahss,” the doctor nodded. “I thought I remembered you. When did you have ze procedure done?”

“About a year ago! And I’ve been wet ever since!”

“Zat was about when we started adding in a special feature. Hop up. Bend over ze table.”

“Uh, doctor, we should probably finish the infomercial before we do anything like that.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and sighed. “Females.” He reached over to cup her tit through her blouse.

A few moments later, he repeated his command. “Now hoist ze heinie up and bend it over zis table.”

“Uhm .. okay,” she breathed, eyes glazing a little with arousal.

“Yahss, you horny bitch. Present your ass and hike up zat tiny skirt.”

She bent over the table and reached back to flip her miniskirt up over her waist. Like all clitorized women, she was pantiless. “Uhm, like this, doctor?”

Dr Bentley stepped behind her and grasped and hefted a butt cheek to get his bearings. “Yahss. Fine haunches, you horny bitch.”

“Th-thank you, doctor.”

“I will slicken my finger as a kindness to you, you horny bitch.”

“Thank y—oh! OH! OHGOD!” she gasped as he touched her clitoris, then began squirting lubricant. Dr Bentley wet his fingers in the stream that flowed.

“Yahss. I am now slickened. How does it feel, to be a lubricant dispenser?”

“Ohgod!” she wriggled her pelvis. “Don’t stop! Please!”

“Haaaaar, haaaaaar, you horny bitch. You have no idea what is coming.”

“Please! DO me, doctor!”

With a smug grin, he moved his fingers to her sphincter.

“OH! God! Doctor! That’s my ASS! What are you—”

He was wriggling his finger around inside her rectum. “I know ze magic spot is back here somewhere.”

“OHGOD, DOCTOR!” she breathed throatilly, then gasped and stiffened.

“Yahss, zat is ze spot.”

The pretty brunette gasp-shrieked as she started convulsing in orgasm. After a minute, she melted off the table and onto the floor, eyes rolled up in her head, still twitching.

“Yahss. She will be like zat for ze next twelve hours,” he nodded smugly. “I call it ‘ze argument winner’. It is invaluable when ze ‘feminists’ try to bicker their ‘two cents’ in. It shuts zem up before they become ze pains in ze ass.”

* * *

“Uhm, Doctor,” the pop princess grabbed the microphone and stepped back into the camera’s view, trying to straighten her mussed hair. She had her serious look on. “Can you explain how you make women cum for hours on end?”

“Yahss. To understand ze female species, you must first understand their nature.”

“And what is their nature, doctor?” She hadn’t gotten her top back on quite right, and one naughty nipple kept trying to peek out.

“Ze nature of women is frigidity.”

“Frigidity, doctor?”

“Yahss. But what God has botched, I, Giovanni Bentley, ze Czechoslovakian Stallion, have set aright again. I have reconnected ze clitoris to ze brain. Correctly zis time”

“But ... isn’t there already a neural pathway there, doctor?” She looked at the camera and smiled, proud to have used such a big medical phrase.

“Nein. It is feeble. Vestigial. Stunted.”

“And your procedure fixes this?”

“Yahss. We place shunts across ze spinal cord to reconnect ze clit to ze brain. And while we’re in there fixing things, we go ahead and make sure to connect ze boobs up too; and ze pussy; sometimes also ze entire thigh—(snicker) such women really like to ride ze horses A LOT! Haaaaar, haaaaar. We also connect up ze lips and mouth.”

“The lips and the mouth?”

“Ze bitches sure like ze blowjobs then, eh?” Snicker. “Nein more of ze, ‘Nein, nein, I vill never put zat thing in my mouth.’”

The pop princess turned to face the camera. “Well, let’s hear some benefits that Dr Bentley’s conquests,”—she smiled at the doctor—“I mean, his PATIENTS, have experienced.”

* * *

Cut to a brunette with an unbelievable figure. “I used to be overweight, can you believe that? But after Dr Bentley’s marvelous procedure,” she shrugged, “I just kept cumming every time I ate. (Giggle) It’s hard to finish a meal when you have lips like clits. So here I am, with a figure to kill for, all because I experience two, three dozen orgasms a meal.” She held her arms out to the side and swayed her hips. “It just doesn’t seem fair, does it, girls?”

The pop princess turned to the camera. “But, ladies, you too can experience the power of the orgasmic diet. All you have to do is call the number at the bottom of your screen and Davis Surgicals will hook up your orgasms. Millions of orgasms are out there right now, just waiting for you ladies to claim them!”

She looked back to the brunette. “I’ll bet you eat a lot of small snacks.”

“Oh, like you would not believe. With just a bag of corn chips, I can cum until I’m unconscious.”

To the audience, “And that’s the way doctors have been advising us to eat for years—lots of small meals.” Proud smile at her display of knowledge, then she turned back to the brunette. “What’s been your experience with the opposite sex since then?”

“Oh,” she giggled, “my boyfriend LOVES the new me! I wake him up with my lips around his cock every morning. And then at lunch, I’M the one begging HIM for a couple quickie blowjobs! And semen is now my favorite condiment for meals! It goes with ANYTHING!”

“Do you have any regrets, Cathy?”

“Just that I spent so many years frigid before getting clitorized, years just wasted with hatred and resentment at being frigid, which I projected onto men. Then I had a boyfriend that was brave enough to have me done. I was just a teensy bit pissed at first that he just sprang brain surgery on me like that—(chuckle) but that little miff only lasted until my first orgasm! Since then it’s all been smooth cumming!”

The pop princess looked at the camera. “Well, there you have it, folks. You too can know the joys and health benefits of clitorization—just call the number at the bottom of your screen. And if you call in the next twelve minutes, David Surgicals will throw in a free bonus: they will also connect your HANDS up to your orgasmic center! That puts a whole new light on ‘just holding hands’! Ladies, you will NEVER dread washing dishes again!”

* * *

The camera cut to her left again and Bethany turned to follow it. “Now ... I promised to relate my own personal experience with this miraculous procedure. I had finished a concert and was invited to the home of Senator—well, I’d better not mention Daddy’s last name (giggle). Anyway, he had some Davis Surgicals employees there, and he offered me the prepaid opportunity to get clitorized for him. At first I was aghast. I railed about like a spoiled little princess in a tizzy. “Then they took a little firmer hand with me.”

She leaned toward the camera and whispered. “The tranquilizer dart in my ass hurt just slightly, but it did slow me down enough for them to deal with my little tantrum.

“I had the surgery that very night. Dr Bentley had already perfected his microsurgical techniques by then, so I was out the very next day.

“Well, when I came to, I started shreiking at Daddy like a frustrated harpy, and he reached out and grabbed a boob, and I came like a herd of horses.

“When I came to again, it took me a few seconds to get focused, but then I started shrieking again. Well, Daddy just bent me over his knee, and I found myself juicing before he even started spanking my taut little bottom. And once he did smack my little butt, ... well, let’s just say I pretty much came the whole rest of the day and night after that—one tremendous orgasmic blur.

“Well, nowadays, I wear my hair up in pigtails with pink ribbons and I wear these really skimpy cheerleaders outfits with pom-poms but no panties. And, of course, I cum and I cum and I cum and I cum some more. Every day of my life now. Daddy teases me about being a hair trigger princess: I start stiffening up and climaxing before he even gets his hard man-thingie up my butt nowadays.”

The camera cut to her right, and she turned to follow it. “And, well ... you could just call me the Happy Little Pop Princess now! Although ... I DO have one more surprise that we’ll be bringing out a little later in the show.”

* * *

She turned to the doctor. “Dr Bentley, would you be up to answering a few questions from the guests here at the mall?”

“Yahss ... let us shed the light of female orgasms everywhere.”

The pop princess turned around and pointed out into the audience gathered there. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Dr Bentley, I notice that you have an Italian first name, a British last name, you call yourself a Czechoslovakian Stallion, you have a vague pseudo-German accent, though you have trouble turning all your th’s into z’s. It’s obvious that you’re a poor fraud. Can’t you keep whatever fake identity you’re trying to establish consistent? And why ARE you trying to cover up your past? What IS IT that you’re hiding?”

The doctor held his hand over his brow to shade his eyes as he peered out into the audience. “Yahss. Who is that back there throwing accusations at my integrity? Please, come forward. Come up onto the stage. Let us discuss your issues up here.”

The woman came forward. She was dressed in a mid-calf tweed skirt, a white blouse, a tweed jacket, flats and glasses. “Yes, my name is Gloria Vinton-Hayes. And I have studied your supposed story of how you developed your technique, and it is as full of holes as swiss cheese, doctor. If you really ARE a doctor.”

“Yahss, gut. We encourage debate. Come up onto the stage and take a seat. You will join us in our panel when we fill out the rest of our participants.”

Gloria strode across the stage and sat. She was ready to open up the inconsistencies in this man’s lies.

“Yahss, gut. We get two more members for my ‘interrogation panel’ and then I will deftly demonstrate my skill in handling them.”

“Yes?” the pop princess pointed into the audience again.

“Excuse me. I am just a hard-working mother, but I am sitting back here AGHAST! This is HORRENDOUS, what you’re describing! Bethany, you’re supposed to be a ROLE MODEL for young women! How can you endorse this?! The things they’re DOING! Brain surgery?! And you’re OKAY with that?!”

“You GO, Mom!” her college-age daughter rooted for her beside her.

“Well ... all the orgasms do kind of sway a girl’s mind (giggle).”

“Yahss. Please, Ms, come up on stage and represent your ideas for us, hard-verking mutter.”

The hard-working mother strode up onto the stage and took a seat beside professor Vinton-Hayes.

“Yes?” the pop princess pointed again.

“Yes, I’m watching Dr Bentley reach out and grab the breasts of these women when they start to argue with him, and they become too delirious with ecstasy to finish their argument and just lay there and writhe in orgasm, and I’m just thinking one thing: Oh, Gawd! I’d love to cum like that! How do I get myself CLITORIZED?”

“Yahss,” the doctor chuckled. “Ask these nice people with ze camera crew. They will sign you up with my firm. And, just this one time, I will give you a full body clitorization.”

“What?!” the girl’s face lit up.

“Yahss. ANYTHING will make you cum then.”

“Oh, Dr Bentley! You RULE!”

“Zank you.”

“Yes?” Bethany pointed to a fourth young woman. “You back there chanting death slogans and holding up the protest poster. What do you have to say?”

“You’re a MONSTER!” the young girl shouted.

“Yahss, please come up on stage young lady, and tell me why you hate me so.”

It became apparent that she was a college student, in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, as she walked up. “You’re a monstrosity!” she hissed when she got onstage.

“Why do you hold such harsh feelings against me, young lady?”

“One of our sorority sisters had your lobotomy performed on her! Just because her boyfriend couldn’t get into her pants but still wanted to GET SOME! Then two other sisters’ boyfriends copycatted the crime and had THEM lobotomized! Now all three are just giggling, horny BIMBOS! How can you DO that to human beings?! They’re people! One was going to be a doctor! One a lawyer! You’re a MONSTER!”

“Female doctors,” Dr Bentley spat, “Hah! And your friends—are they not happy now?”

“HAPPY NOW?! They can’t even comprehend what’s been DONE to them! They’re sexual vegetables!”

“Oh come now, you do exaggerate.”

“No! You must be stopped! You and your evils!”

“Yahss, do sit down. And I will address all your points in just a moment, young lady.”

The girl stalked to a chair and plopped into it.

“Well, doctor,” Bethany spoke into the microphone, then pointed it at the doctor, “how will you answer all these charges?”

“Charges? Hah! You dignify them with too much importance, young lady.” He turned to his panel of three. “You have all raised valid points, at least for foolish frigid women. This is how I answer such foolish points.”

Three phphphtt’s went off as three tranquilizer darts were fired by assistants.

The three women jumped up, startled, staggered a couple steps, then crumpled.

“Is this how you answer their points, doctor?”

“Yahss. They have made baseless accusations against me, called my patients ‘lobotomized’ and ‘horny bimbos’. It is easy to hate that which is different. We will let these three ladies walk in the shoes of those ‘horny bimbos’ for a week and see if they still hold ze same opinions.”

* * *

The pop princess turned to face the camera and spoke as Dr Bentley strode off to begin performing brain surgeries. “Well, there you have it. We will meet back in this same mall, live, in exactly one week to hear from these hysterical accusers and see if they still sing the same song after walking a week in the shoes of those that they despise.

“Now, I promised you all one more special guest, and she’ll be out in just a moment. In the meantime, you should know ....”

The way that Bethany saw it, something had gone horribly awry, and the universe was now running amok—a liquid-fuel semi-truck, its driver dead of a heart attack, careening into a crowded downtown parade; a supersonic jet, its pilot struck blind, crashing into a tourist-packed beach-front resort in mid-summer; a fragile reality, tortuously being drained of all that is good and decent and holy by a deranged particle physicist.

Indeed, poor Bethany’s world WAS cruelly unjust. She had aligned herself with virginity, which should have won the hearts and minds of parents everywhere. But ... her music sales were ... disappointing. While that ... other ... competing pop princess had aligned herself squarely with skank-hood and was unfairly ... prospering. All to Bethany’s supreme irritation.

But ... things were on the verge of righting themselves!

“... that I’ve secretly sponsored her for a full-body clitorization. ANYTHING will make this cunt cum!” Bethany sighed and smiled, feeling even better than any orgasm had left her in the last six months. “I’m about to make her my pet. Let’s watch and enjoy.”

A decorative tube in the center of the mall, six feet in diameter, ten feet tall, opened up, and a dazed blonde girl stumbled out.

The gathered audience gasped as they realized it was that other pop princess, Chrissie Wateryear. She had an ungraceful hospital gown tied on, her bare butt hanging out in back.

Bethany put her fingers to her lips and gave a wolf whistle. “Here, girl!” she patted her thigh. “Come here, girl! Come on!”

Chrissie’s eyes landed on her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend and part of her strange experiences in the last 24 hours started to click. “Bethany? What are you doing here? Do you have something to do with what’s been going on?!”

“Come on, girl!” Bethany patted her thigh again, eyes bright with anticipation. “Here we go! Come on!”

“Bethany! I was KIDNAPPED, for Christ’s sake! Are you—?! Did you have something to DO with that?!”

“Chrissie, Chrissie,” Bethany sighed and shook her head, then took a studded leather collar and leash from an assistant. “Jason told me you were better trained than this, but you know what I told him? ‘You can take the girl out of the kennel, but you can’t take the BITCH out of the girl.’ Well, looks like we’re gonna have to do this the hard way.” She strolled toward the other pop princess.

“Cut it OUT!” Chrissie took a couple steps back. “You—you—you DID this, DIDN’T YOU?! You actually had me KIDNAPPED! OOHH! You are SO finished in this business! I am going to sue you until you can’t even afford a ticket to come see me and Jason in concert together!”

Bethany caught up with her then and grabbed a handful of hair. “C’mon, girl, hold still. Hold still! Damn! You don’t listen worth a flip, do you, bitch?”

Chrissie struggled valiantly despite the sexual thrills that ran through her every time Bethany—or anything else for that matter—brushed her skin.

“Chrissie! Stop that!” Oh! You ARE a stubborn bitch!” Bethany hauled off and smack-grabbed the other princess’s ass cheek.

Chrissie’s eyes rolled back up in her head as she went down in gasping orgasm.

Bethany knelt beside the twitching, cumming girl. “I am going to have to talk to your trainer. He did a shoddy job! You just don’t take orders well at all!”

Chrissie just writhed and moaned as Bethany fastened her collar on.

Then Bethany looked up at the camera as she let the other princess lie still to finish her quivering orgasm. “What is with THIS, Jason?! Have you never sent your bitch to obedience school?! Have you at least had her shots?! Or do I have to worry about my poodle catching distemper from her?” She made a distasteful face as her eyes scanned the other princess’s body. “Because she ISone skanky-lookin’ bitch!”

Then Bethany sat there quietly for another minute, her face gilded with an angelic glow of innocence.

Chrissie stirred, breathing deeply. “OhGOD ... what was THAT?! I ... I feel like—”

“Aaawwww, that’s a goooooood girl!” Bethany baby-talked to her bitch as she spread-hand tickled across her belly.

Chrissie started off in peals of laughter that ended up as screams of climax.

“Jason!” Bethany looked at the camera with eyes of surprise. “You didn’t TELL me she SQUIRTS when she’s horny!” She belly-tickled the other princess some more, and another gush of lubricant splashed out of her cunt onto the tile floor. “We have CHRISSIE-PUDDLES, everyone!” Bethany declared, overjoyed with her new pet’s ability to cum. Wetly.

“Come on, everyone!” Bethany invited the gathered people, “Anyone that wants to, come rub this skank’s belly and make her squirt lube!” Several guys stepped forward to rub things on the pet princess and make her sing with rifts of climax.

Bethany stepped off to the side and beamed into the camera. “Jason, I know that you don’t realize that you’ve given her to me yet—as a matter of fact, you’re probably sitting home, worried sick over which big-cocked rapper the skank has run off with now—but thank you SO much!” She clapped her hands. “She’s great! I think I’m going to BREED her, and she can make litters of puppies, and then you and I can both take our pick of the litter.” She gave the camera a sidelong look of shyness. “Who knows? If you prove you can be a good father with her puppy, maybe you and I can set up house together.”

“Oh!” Bethany giggled as part of the spraying lubricant from where the guys were rubbing the skank princess landed on her. “She’s REALLY getting excited over there!”

“Well, anyway, thanks again, Jason, for my very own skank princess. And all the rest of you, show up next week at this same mall, where we’ll be broadcasting live, and we’ll see how those three bitches change their tunes after a week of pleasure!

“See you then!”

* * *

The camera faded in on a scantily-dressed blonde in the middle of a huge mall crowd and she began talking into her microphone.

“Hi!” she gushed.

“Hi!” the crowd roared behind her.

“Well, this is your favorite pop princess, and we’re back at Springfield Mall to look in again on those three bitches that mouthed off against Dr Bentley’s clitorization procedure. They’ve each had just one week of orgasm in which to rethink their positions. Will they obstinately cling to their old frigid positions? Or have they seen the light of a new climax? Let’s ask them.”

* * *

Cut to a family sitting around a table. The father was on the left, giving a toothy grin. In the middle was the mother in just heels and a thong, straddling her son’s lap, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, making sexy little gasps every time she bounced. The son looked to be mid-twenties and gave a thumbs-up around his mewling mother. To the right was the sulking daughter.

“This is Gail Twoomey,” the pop princess reminded the audience as she stepped toward the family. “If you’ll remember, she was our hard-working mother, who was simply ‘aghast’ last week. She looks a little more amenable to things now.” The camera cut to the mewling mother, then back to the pop princess. “But let’s talk to her husband first and see what he has to say about his newly sexed-up wife. “Hi, Mr Twoomey!”

“Hiya, sweetcheeks!” he reached over and gave the popstar a good pinch on the ass.

“Ohgod, sir,” she gasped, “you can’t DO that! Not unless you want me cumming on the floor here!”

“Yeah, that would be kinda nice.”

The popstar danced away before he could grab her erogenous ass again. “Could you tell us about your wife’s new temperament, sir?”

“Yeah! The bitch just has a sex drive like you wouldn’t believe now! I mean, she cums like a hundred times a day now!”

“It looks like she’s more woman than one man can handle now,” she nodded toward the woman’s current extra-sexual activities with her son.

“Yeah, I was a little hesitant about that at first, but then I figured, the boy’s mother is a whore now, he oughtta be gettin’ a piece of her ass too. You know?” Big grin. “And there’s certainly plenty of that to go around since she’s been clitorized.”

“Has the operation made any difference at her job?”

“You KNOW it has, Bethany! Her boss doubled her salary and gave her the job title, ‘Executive Assistant in Charge of Spreading’. She’s just been one glistening, wet target for all the cocks in the building. And it sure didn’t help that she had been such a judgmental bitch before—everyone wants to bend her over and hear her beg for cock now.”

“Overall, would you say that you’re pleased with the new Gail?”

“Life’s never BEEN so good, Bethany!”

“Daddy?!” the daughter complained from the other side of the table, “I can’t BELIEVE you!”

“Kids, hungh?” Bethany spoke into the mike, then pointed it at Mr Twoomey.

“Yeah. She’s been bitching because her mom ain’t all campaigning to make this group or that group suffer and pay for their sins.” He leaned toward Bethany and raised his voice to a loud whisper. “That’s why I’ve decided to have LITTLE sweetcheeks done too.”

“Daddy?!” the college girl gasped.

“It’s already been arranged,” he shrugged to her.

Casting wary glances from side to side, she stood and began backing away.

Phphphtt!

“Daddy!” she wailed with her last remaining moments of consciousness. “You ... can’t ... do ....”

“Nighty night, snookums,” he waved at his daughter. “You’ll be a better woman when you wake up.”

The pop princess looked in the camera. “Well, I guess he figures that if it’s good enough for the twat, then it’s good enough for the twit, and that it’s certainly good enough for the twat.” She gestured toward the mewling mother. “Let’s step over and sew what SHE has to say.” Camera and popstar moved to the right. “Hey, Mrs Twoomey! Gail!” Bethany tried to get the bouncing woman’s attention to no avail. “Hey, you horny bitch!”

“Whuh?” she dazedly slowed and looked over her shoulder.

“What do you think of clitorization now, you horny bitch?”

“OHGOD! I CAN’T stop CUMMING!”

“Are you glad you had the procedure done to you?”

She shrugged with a grin. “Like I said, I can’t stop cumming!”

“It seems your husband is so pleased with how you turned out that he’s going to have your daughter clitorized as well. What do you think of that?”

“Oh, lord, yes! I want her to have all the things that I never had. Like orgasms. And MORE orgasms!” She looked over at her husband. “Henry, WHY didn’t you have me done TEN YEARS AGO?!”

“If I’da known it would replace your bitchin’ with screams of climax, I woulda!”

“A week ago, you were proud of the fact that you were a hard-working mother. Has this procedure had any effect on you at your job?”

“Oh, YEAH! I’m REAL popular now. It used to be that people would HIDE from me ‘cause they’d know I was coming around to complain about something or to make someone pay for something. NOW, they come looking FOR ME. They all want to bend me over a desk and BANG my ass for the way that I’ve treated them the last ten years. And let me tell you: my ass ain’t complaining! If I had a dollar for every time I came in the last week, well, I’d be a RICH horny bitch!”

“How about you, young man? What do you think of your mother’s transformation?”

“Awwww, it’s great! Mom used to be all, you know, you can’t see nothing! I even had to hide my dirty magazines from her. Now she’s running around LOOKING for dicks to suck! And she uses my dirty magazines now to learn what turns me on. She’ll pose in the same positions and see how stiff each one makes my pecker.”

“Hey!” Henry pointed, “Good idea, son. I’ll need to try that.”

Gail giggled and rubbed her son’s cheek. “He especially likes the ones where I’m bent over and showing my butt. And I’ve started working on getting flexible enough to put my ankles behind my neck so I can spread my pussy for real good access for him.”

“That’s wonderful! And is that—can we get the cam to zoom in on Gail’s butt? It IS, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gail smiled. “I’ve started wearing butt-plugs and those little anal vibrators. They just feel TOO GOOD to NOT wear them.”

“Gail!” Bethany acted mock-astonished, “I’m surprised at you.”

Giggle. “I’m a little surprised at myself. But, hey, orgasms just improve a girl’s attitude immensely!”

“Whuh?!” Bethany gasped as Howard pinched her ass again. “N-no! I’m sorry, Mr Twoomey, but you can’t—OH! OhGOD! Stop GROPING my BUTT! PLEASE! Oh! OHGOD!”

* * *

The camera cut to a pre-taped segment while live-Bethany came at the hands of Mr Twoomey.

“And how do the partners and spouses of clitorized women feel about them?” pre-taped Bethany smiled, “How about the men that date them? Let’s find out.”

She was on the street and pointed the microphone at a young dark-haired man wearing a tie. “I’m sorry. I just won’t even DO it with a woman anymore unless she’s been clitorized. If she hasn’t been fixed—I don’t know, it’s sort of like doing it with a corpse.”

“I second that,” a man beside him spoke up, and Bethany pointed the mike at him, “With frigid women, even when they fake an orgasm, it’s boring. It’s like ‘Oh. Gosh. Wow. Ohmygod, baby. Oh. You’re blowing my world.’ While she’s laying there like a cadaver. And that just makes a man feel like shit. But with a CLITORIZED woman, you DON’T HAVE to worry if the climax is real! It IS!”

“That’s true!” the first man agreed with a smile. “I’d say that clitorization has increased the amount of honesty in the world.”

A third man beside them spoke up, “Yeah. You just can’t trust frigid women. Why are they refusing to get clitorized? What are they trying to hide? With clitorized women, you usually know what’s on their mind.”

“SEX!” the second man grinned.

“Yeah! But with frigid women that refuse to get clitorized—well, would YOU trust a criminal that refused to take a lie detector test, Bethany?”

“Gosh, I guess not.”

“My point exactly.”

Cut to Bethany with another man and woman, getting the opinion of the man.

“Yeah, my girlfriend Lisa used to bitch about my appearance. Wanted me to shave the hair off my shoulders. Like I was a woman and had TIME to preen about my appearance. And there she was, still faking orgasms. When she even deemed to fake them. So I just told her one day, ‘Bitch, if you don’t have enough self-respect to get yourself fixed, why am I even hanging out with you?’”

“And she saw the light of orgasm and has been a better person ever since, hasn’t she?” Bethany nodded toward the beautiful red-head on his arm.

“Naw!” the man guffawed. “This ain’t Lisa. This is Terri, Lisa’s best friend and roommate. After I told Lisa she oughtta get clitted, she ran to Terri and whined, and Terri started going off about men and what a shoddy job they’re doing with running the world. So I sprang the bucks and had Terri clitorized.”

“Oh, God, I was SUCH a TIGHTass before!” the redhead smiled and rolled her eyes. “Now, I just like it UP the ass! (tee-hee) And up the pussy! And in the mouth! God! I just like SEX now!”

“And,” the man nodded, “After seeing how much clitorization has improved her friend Terri, Lisa has agreed to go get herself fixed. She’s scheduled for Friday, aren’t you, baby?”

A dark-haired woman standing behind the couple spoke up, slightly muffled, “Yeah.”

“Is that Lisa behind you?” Bethany asked and pointed.

“Yeah. Come on up here, baby. Talk to the pop-twat.”

Lisa stepped up between the man and the redhead, mostly holding her face down.

“So you’re going to go get fixed, Lisa?” Bethany prompted her.

The girl shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, what can you do? I figured if I had to do my hair every day and put on make-up and diet and wear heels, my boyfriend ought to have SOMETHING that he felt bad about himself too. You know? I shouldn’t be the only one feeling shitty about myself. So I complained about his shoulder hair. Hey, at least it was something. ”

“Basically, you were a bitch,” Bethany summarized.

“Yeah. But he didn’t get self-conscious or feel bad about himself or anything.” She sighed. “Then Terri goes and gets fixed.”

“Oh, God, DID I!” the red-head nodded, then turned to the man, “THANK you, Brian!”

“Now my boyfriend—”

“That’s ex-boyfriend,” the man corrected her. “At least until you demonstrate enough self-respect to get yourself clitorized, honey.”

“Yeah, now my ex-boyfriend is running around with a gorgeous redhead clinging to his arm, and I feel shittier than ever. So, yeah, I’m going to go get myself fixed on Friday.”

“And then you can be my girlfriend again,” the man smiled.

“Yeah!” the redhead enthused, eyes bright, “And we can BOTH be Brian’s bitches! And we can eat each other out for his pleasure! And ours!”

“Yeah. Great.” Lisa didn’t look very enthused.

The man nodded. “You see why I only date clitorized women, Bethany? The frigid ones just have no self-respect, and that just saps the life out of them like this wet blanket.”

Bethany turned to the camera, “There you have it folks! Clitorization at work improving the self-respect of women everywhere!”

Cut to Bethany with another couple on the street.

“Yeah, it’s sort of like circumcision. It’s hygienic. And women have been bitching about uncircumcised guys for years, saying they’re repulsed by the snake-in-a-sweater look. Well, clitorization is like female circumcision, and it’s mentally hygienic.”

“AND,” the woman nodded meaningfully, “it improves relationships. I used to be high maintenance. But David says I’m so easy now that he doesn’t know how he ever put up with me before!”

“She WAS a bitch back then, Bethany,” he nodded. “Now she just CUMS!”

Cut to another man expressing his opinion, “Unclitorized women—no more than little girls, really—are simply frigid. They can’t cum. It’s like they never finished getting through puberty. Hey, maybe that’s why they’re so bitchy! So I only bother with clitorized women nowadays.”

Cut to another man, “Ugh. It’s sort of like pedophilia to do an unclitorized woman. It just takes all the magic and love out of sex if you know the woman isn’t going to cum. So, no, if they don’t have the self-respect to fix their stalled sexual response, I consider them like a four-year-old: a real turn-off, and off limits for anything sexual. The way that it should be.”

* * *

“Well, this is Bethany Rears, your favorite twat-star,” the perky princess said as she struggled to get her top back on, then looked up and smiled for the camera. “Oh, I mean popstar. And ... oh, fuck it.” She discarded the useless little top and stood there bare-breasted. “Well, we’ve seen how Dr Bentley’s clitorization procedure enriched the lives of one family. Now let’s check on our stuffy college professor.

The camera followed her as she walked to another table.

“This is Gloria Vinton-Hayes and her husband Richard.”

“Excuse me, Bethany, but that’s PROFESSOR Gloria Vinton-Hayes,” the professor corrected with a smile. She was sitting there with her hair up in pigtails and a tiny pink fuzzy sweater that was short enough to show an awful lot of underboob, a teenie white pleated miniskirt and white four-inch heels.

“Is it now?”

“Y-yes.”

“And what do YOU think of your new wife, Richard? Still the stuffy professorial twat? Or one hot steaming bitch?”

“Well, there’s a story behind that, Bethany,” Richard smiled. “When Gloria first came home last Sunday and told me that she had been clitorized, we both agreed that we’d behave like adults about it. It seemed like the mature thing to do.

“But then this horny bitch tries to eat lunch, and we realized that it wasn’t going to be that simple.”

“Oh, it was a riot, Bethany,” Gloria related. “I’d take a couple bites. And cum. Take another couple bits. And cum. As I found out this week, even talking too much makes me moist down there.”

On impulse, Bethany stepped toward the professor, reached behind to grab the back of her head, then brought her lips to hers and gave her a little tongue. The professor was breathing pretty hard and blinking rapidly when Bethany stood back.

“Please, continue,” Bethany smiled. “You horny bitch.”

“Ehr?”

“You were telling me how you got off on your food that first day.”

“Ehr ... uhm ... yeah ...,” she shut her eyes a moment, then opened them. “But Richard and I, we, uhm, decided to be adult about the whole thing. And Richard always HAS been a staunch advocate of women’s rights. We thought that this would be a perfect opportunity to develop a thesis against, uhm, clitorization. It is SO pleasurable to a woman that it, uhm, removed the balance that she needs to make, uhm, balanced decisions.

“And that’s where we are now, Bethany. I’m able to compare notes with other clitorized women about the, uhm, mind-boggling orgasms. And,” she shrugged, “I’m, uhm, collecting data against the clitorization procedure.”

“Are you now?”

The two professors nodded sincerely.

“Now, Gloria, you mentioned that this week you realized that even talking too much in front of your classroom was enough to make you one horny bitch.”

“Uhm, I didn’t use those, ehr, words. But it did, uhm, stimulate me a little. But, uh ... ‘horny bitch’? No. See, that’s the type of stereotype that we need to work AGAINST, Bethany.”

“Gloria, did any of your students ... you know, bend you over a desk and stuff your pussy full of cock?”

“Ehr ... uhm, perhaps.”

“What?!” Richard sat forward.

“He meant nothing to me, Richard,” Gloria shook her head.

“You just—” Richard gestured impatiently, “went at it like an animal?!”

“Well, I couldn’t HELP it, Richard. The NEW URGES and all ....”

“How many?” Bethany prompted.

“Well, you simply lose count of the orgasms after a while. They just sort of ... blur one into the other until they—”

“How many STUDENTS, Gloria? How many students did you boff?!” Richard was a little worked up.

“Not many, honey. Two ... or three ... dozen.”

“THREE DOZEN?!”

“Well, once the first one did it and they saw they could get away with it, all the rest wanted a piece of pussy too.”

“You fucked thirty-five students?!”

“Thirty-five. Or ... fifty.”

“FIFTY?!”

“I don’t KNOW how many students I did, Richard! I was sort of screaming in pleasure at the time!”

“And you didn’t want me to touch you at night?!”

“Well, yes. We were ... running the experiment ... seeing how many—”

“Seeing how many times you could get boffed by men other than your husband!”

“Don’t take it like that, Richard.”

“Gloria, you ... horny bitch!”

“Richard, no! Don’t say that! We’re peers, partners! We’ll change the world together.”

“I’ll change the world; YOU’LL just SPREAD for it!” He reached out and grabbed both her boobs.

“Richard, I-ay-ayayayay-ungh-uuuuunnnnnghgh!”

“What were you saying, you horny bitch?” He stood, yanked her up out of her chair and flipped the front of her sweater up to expose tit.

“P-p-please, Richard!”

“Please? Please what, Gloria?” He reached under her miniskirt with his middle finger.

“Ohgod! Please don’t ... FUCK me, Richard!”

“Fuck you?” he unzipped, then bumped his pelvis into the back of hers.

“Ohgod, Richard!” she gasped, “Fuck me! Fuck me silly! Fuck me like an ANIMAL!”

He slowed his pumps until she wriggled her hips and whined.

“Is THIS how you beg your students to soil up my wife’s pussy?!”

“S—sort of, Richard. PLEASE fuck me!”

Richard pulled his cock out of her and pressed the head at her sphincter.

“Ohgod, no, Richard! Not there! We’ve never DONE it there! It’s ... DIRTY! Like ... ANIMALS!”

“No! Your husband has NEVER HAD your ass! But how many of your students have, Gloria?! How many of your students have taken my wife’s ass?!”

“N—n—not many, Richard. Two ... or three ... dozen ....”

“Three dozen?! Thirty six students you’ve let fuck your ass?!” He pressed until the head slipped in.

“Ungh! DO IT, Richard! Do it! Fuck me up the ass!”

“Thirty-six, Geena?!”

“Thirty-six, or ... fifty.”

“You fucking slut!” he shoved it the rest of the way in.

“Ohgod, YEAH!” she gasped, low and throaty. “FUCK my ass, Richard. I’ve been a BAAAAAAD girl!”

“Yeah! You’ve! Been! A! Bitch!” Richard grunted as he pumped her butt.

“I’ve been SOOO naughty!” she clawed at the table, then started bucking.

“Stupid BIIITCH!” Richard joined her in cumming.

They both collapsed on the table, Richard on top of his wife.

* * *

The camera panned to the topless Bethany, who gave a pert smile. “Be back right after this!”

“Does life suck?” the narrator’s voice asked. “Get clitorized! Thousands of orgasms are out there just WAITING for you! You just need to call this number to claim them! And ENJOY life!”

“It’s hygienic! It will improve your self-respect! Your self-esteem!

“It’s healthy! Lose weight with the orgasmic diet!

“Just call the number at the bottom fo the screen to try clitorization today! And if anyone is dissatisfied after thirty days—like you could actually be displeased with orgasms!—Davis Surgicals will gladly repeat the procedure until you ARE satisfied.

“Husbands, boyfriends, You’ve heard it in the streets, in the gyms, at the water cooler: to have sex with an unclitorized woman—a sexually immature woman—is like pedophilia. Don’t be caught molesting one of these frigid hold-backs! Get your lover clitorized today! Make her into a real woman instead of a developmentally-stalled sexually-retarded girl in a woman’s body!

“Husbands, boyfriends, employers, fathers-in-law, horny students, stalkers in the street should be aware of the provisions of the Tiffs-Dawson Act and their rights under the law.”

* * *

The camera cut back to the topless Bethany, sitting with the professorial couple. “Well, this is Bethany Rear, your favorite twat-star—Oops! I did it again!—I mean ‘popstar’. I’m sitting here with Gloria Vinton-Hayes and her husband Richard Hayes.

“He just found out she’s been spreading for dozens and dozens of college students on the side, and he banged her a good one.

“She’s been sitting here, whimpering, not sure whether to beg him to forgive her for her whoring ways or to beg him to spread her lips and make her squeal some more.”

“Richard, I’m sorry,” the female professor tried. “Forgive me. But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can still go back to the way it was, to the experiment. You’re a good man. You don’t want to see your wife crawling around like a whore.”

“Oh. I see. Only your students should get to see you crawling around like a whore. You’re husband doesn’t get to see that.”

“Richard, that’s not what I meeeeaaaan ....”

“Gloria, get on your knees and suck me.”

“Richard, I can’t. We—that’s—that’s demeaning to women. You don’t want that. You don’t want to do that to your wife. You’re better than—”

“Gloria, if you’re not sucking on my cock in the next ten seconds, I’m going to turn you over my knee.”

Gloria chewed her lip, not sure which alternative she preferred more. Finally deciding it would be demeaning for a college professor to get her heinie spanked on a nationally-broadcast infomercial, she dropped with a whimper to her knees, crawled across the floor and began giving her husband head.

“Who’s the whore, Gloria?”

“Me (slurp) I am (slurp, suck) I’m the whore,” her breathing deepened as her pussy juiced up at that admission.

“Who’s your daddy, bitch?”

“You are (slurp), Richard. (slurp, lick) Richard’s my daddy (slurp).”

“Now,” Bethany came back on camera and smiled, “before you get to feeling too sorry for Richard, trying to be the good proper husband of a whore while his wife was spreading or every kid in the school, you ought to know that we found another student. Becky Halston. Becky, come on over here.”

A bleached-blonde with D-cups jiggled over in a thong and heels. “Hi, I’m Becky!” she breathed in a toy voice, “and Richard’s MY daddy too!”

Richard’s eyes widened when he saw Becky. “Look, it’s not what it—I can explain—”

“Yes,” Bethany smiled as the camera panned to her, “Becky was Richard’s A+ teaching assistant, but he had a boner for her and one weekend he had her involuntarily clitorized. He’s been her sperm-daddy ever since.”

“Oh, YUMMY!” Becky clapped her hands and breathed when she saw Richard’s hard-on, then jiggled over to him and kneeled beside his wife. Within moments, the two bitches were co-licking cock.

“Well, there you have it, folks! Clitorization bringing happiness to yet another family situation!”

* * *

Cut to another pre-recorded segment.

The pop princess put on her serious look and turned to face the camera.

“I’d like to take a few minutes now to discuss some important legislation concerning the clitorization process. You may have heard of the Tiffs-Dawson Act. What is it? How does it affect you? And how does it affect the clitorization of America and the gross orgasmic product?

“In a nutshell, the Tiffs-Dawson Act says this: if you sponsor someone for clitorization without first informing her, she might be just a tad bit miffed at first. The Tiffs-Dawson Act provides for a six-week cooling off period after the procedure is performed, or scheduled to be performed, before she can press any charges.

“During this time, she can test drive her new hot little body; gain some perspective about what’s actually important, and what’s just frustrated bitchiness, when an orgasm is just a nipple tweak away; and wash away some of the hateful indoctrination she’s received her whole life from non-orgasmic women.

The camera angle changed again, and Bethany turned to follow it. “Now, here with us today to discuss this landmark accomplishment in women’s rights, we have two guests: Dr Giovanni Bentley, whom we met last week, and renowned militant feminist Dyke Richardson!”

There was light applause from the unseen audience of the segment. Dr Bentley was seated already, smiling and nodding. Meanwhile, a straw-blonde woman in a pink floofy sheer nightie and bubblegum-pink high heels walked up, taking careful little steps, chewing her lip, then gently eased herself into her seat.

“So, Dyke ...,” Bethany said as she sat beside the arch-feminist, “we meet again.”

“Ehr?”

“I have to comment that you look a lot different than you did when you broke into ‘Daddy’s’ estate two months ago with all those ugly women, screaming, ‘Death to the infidels!’ or some such.”

Dyke looked funny. “It was ... ‘Death to the sexist pigs,’ and you were ... with Senator Del Monte that night?”

“Yeah!” Bethany grinned with sly sweetness, “I was the one you kept calling the ‘little bimbo tart’. And you ripped up one of my pom-poms.”

“Oh ... I’m, uhm ... sorry.”

“But you ARE clitorized now, right?”

Dyke lowered her head, “Yeah ... I’ve been clittied.”

“Yah, she is one horny bitch now,” Dr Bentley chuckled.

“Good,” Bethany nodded her head, “I’m going to wait until later to ask you about your experiences since you became ‘one horny bitch.’ Meanwhile, why don’t you tell us about that historic day when the Senate passed the Tiffs-Dawson Act?”

“Well, Bethany, we all knew something big was going to happen that day—you could just feel it in the air: something historic, something momentous.

“Senator Helen E. Clit-on showed up braless in a miniskirt, high heels and a t-shirt that read ‘Gaspingly Pro-Gasmic!’

“A reporter asked her, ‘Are you, Helen E.? Gaspingly pro-gasmic?’

“Helen E. just leaned toward, smiled and said in a low voice, ‘I’m not wearing any panties, young man.’

“Then, to his surprise, she leaned back and flipped up the front of her little skirt. Sure enough—bush.

“As the reporter stammered, Helen E. turned around and strode into the Congress, giving us all a view of the back of her new jersey. ‘Blissfully Clitorized!’ it read.

“Well, word spread through the reporters and special-interest brokers like a whore through a platoon! Something big was going down! The Congress was PACKED when Helen E. stood up to make her historic humanitarian plea.

“Senator Clit-on then gave an impassioned, rousingly orgasmic speech on the Senate floor, during which she came no less than four times. Each time, the gathered Senators waited patiently like gentlemen for her to regain consciousness, though each time she awakened, she was missing another item of clothing.

“She ended the speech naked except for the heels, her voice rising three octaves in her final gasps before passing out again.

“Well, she amply made the argument for the Tiffs-Dawson Act, as well as revealing that she’s quite a squirter, dowsing down one of the senate aides, and the Senate passed the bill unanimously.

“Helen E. was so gratified that her cause had been so well championed by the assembly that she got down on her knees and offered to blow every man there. The horny senators formed a line to shoot down her throat, some going back for secondsies and thirdsies.

“Afterwards, an aide led the boffed-silly Senatress out to meet the reporters. She stood there, naked except for her high heels, face still gummed up with Senatorial cum, and became the first woman in Congress to bear her tits for America. She certainly hasn’t been the last.

“’I came, I sucked, I swallowed,’ she declared to the reporters, and there was a spectacular round of applause.

“Looks like you didn’t swallow fast enough, honey!” one of the Congressmen quipped about the gel still on her cheeks, and she laughed with everyone else.”

* * *

“Now,” Bethany interrupted, “didn’t you humiliate yourself somewhere about then, Dyke?”

“I, uh ....”

“Please, tell us all about it, sweetie.”

“I, uhm, stood up, trying to get the attention of the reporters. I—I hadn’t been clitorized then, you see, and I—well, I asked her how she could pass such a horrible bill, so degrading to women.”

“I see.”

“Then there was the whole silver dart in the ass thing, and I fell to the ground and woke up with my asshole connected to my pleasure center.”

“Haaaar, haaaar, haaaar,” Dr Bentley honked, “Yes? You see? She vas an asshole, so I just connected up her asshole. Quite humorous, is it not?”

“You mean?” Bethany’s hand darted to Dyke’s chest and squeezed tit there.

Dyke just looked down at the hand, then back up at Bethany.

“They’re not—?”

“No,” Dyke shook her head. “They’re not connected up.”

“What about—” Bethany’s hand darted to Dyke’s crotch and tickled there.

Dyke just looked down at the hand trying to masturbate her pussy, then looked back up to Bethany. “No. No pleasure there either.”

“As a matter of fact,” Dr Giovanni guffawed, “I DIS-connected what few synapses were there from ze pussy.”

“So now I can’t get off with my clit or pussy.” Dyke shrugged. “Of course, I was always too angry to get off before, so I’m not really missing anything.”

“Ask her vhat I DID connect up, though,” Dr Bentley chuckled.

“Dr Bentley thought it would be ... humorous ... if I could only cum when people fucked with my ass.”

“I also guaranteed that she vould ALWAYS cum vhen people fucked vit her ass!”

Dyke nodded. “Just sitting here in this chair is juicing up my pussy.”

“I get it, Dr Bentley!” Bethany nodded and smiled. “That REALLY IS poetic justice!”

The three sat there a couple moments, just basking in the poeticalness.

“How do you think future generations will evaluate Senator Clit-on and the Tiffs-Dawson Act she sponsored?”

“No doubt about it, Bethany: it’s a true victory for women’s rights.”

“Yet you see a number of women trying to twist that into the opposite, trying to say that she has somehow hurt women.”

“They just fear change, Bethany. Through the centuries, women have developed cunning social conventions to castrate power from men and hoard it for themselves. But in the process, we have hurt ourselves too. Nowadays, we still subject young women to continual indoctrination into these simplistic sex-for-power ploys, even though they cause everyone to lose.

“For example, let’s say we yank your top down.”

“Like this?” Bethany pulled her blouse down to expose boob.

“Exactly. Now how have you been harmed?”

“Uhm. I guess there’s a small draft that’s making me a little bit horny. But I certainly wouldn’t call that ‘being harmed’. Feels kinda good, actually.”

“Exactly. The only harm comes if I’ve spent your lifetime pounding into you that exposing your tits should cause you horrible shame and loss of social standing. Then one day, your tits get exposed, you feel unbearable humiliation, and you get labelled—by your fellow women, no less—a slut. Don’t you see? Emotionally toxic garbage in, emotionally toxic garbage out.

“But it causes unnecessary pain, Bethany, and that’s what condemns such horrible primitive practices in my eyes. Western prudish brainwashing is as crude and cruel as ritualistic female genatilia mutilation in the savage lands of Africa. Neither should be tolerated.”

* * *

Dr Bentley crossed his arms. “Just to satisfy my curiosity, you silly bitch,” he inquired, “Back vhen you were still frigid, if you had known zat Helen E. ‘Bend Me Over and Fuck Me SILLY’ Clit-on was going to make zat speech in ze Senate, how vould you have prepared for it?”

Dyke shrugged. “Same as all special interest groups do in a highly victim-profitable environment like the United States: lead with a media campaign of preparatory propaganda at the specified target audience.

“We would pick a scapegoat—obviously men, in this case—and pound on women over and over how that scapegoat has TAKEN what is rightfully THEIRS! MEN have STOLEN all the ORGASMS!

“At first such crap sounds as absurd as it actually is, but over time and repetition, the resentful and the troubled and the emotionally unbalanced women come to believe it, if only as a way to rationalize their failures. Eventually it gets discussed at water coolers and in women’s groups, and even healthy, mainstream women start to swallow it.

“Then for political brokers, it’s just like all those bad TV episodes back in the 80’s where the heroes discovered that the Vietnam vet had been brainwashed before being released by the enemy, and a simple phone call could turn them into an emotionless assassin.

“We just start making that phone call, so to speak. We rile women up about TAKING BACK what is RIGHTFULLY THEIRS from those AWFUL MEN that STOLE IT FROM THEM. We tell them: You must RISE UP and TAKE BACK the ORGASMS that those VILLAINOUS MEN are HOARDING from you!

“Yeah, it’s nonsense. Men just have easier orgasms, they don’t hoard the things. But it’s enough to get easily identifiable minority groups in the population to unite and attack the rest of the population.

“And, yeah, everyone loses in the end, but clever people like me a little while ago, in certain key positions with foresight are able to benefit themselves. That’s why we do it.”

“I have now zis special offer for you,” Dr Bentley looked at Dyke. “Let us see how you handle it. Unbeknownst to you, I made another minor variation in your operation: it is reversible.”

“You can ... change me back into the frigid bitch that I was before? Make it so I can gouge society for personal indulgences again?”

“Yahs. If zat is vhat you vant.”

“No,” Dyke shook her head without further consideration. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Then vhat is it zat you DO vant?”

“I—I wanna cum. I want—” She stood up, hiked the flimsy nightie up, then turned around to hike her ass out at Dr Bentley. “Please ... TOUCH it. Touch my heinie. Make the FIREWORKS go off in my head. Make me CUM like a bitch that’s getting truly FUCKED for the VERY FIRST TIME in her life! Please, doctor! Stick you FINGER up my ASSHOLE!”

“Yah, yah.” He jabbed. She stiffened. Then dropped. Then the anal ex-militant feminist in the pink floofy see-through skimpy nightgown writhed and arched and moaned like a new age was cumming.

* * *

“Well, thank you Dr Bentley, for that informative segment. And Dyke ... get stuffed! ANALLY stuffed!” Bethany turned to the camera. “Can you believe her? Dyke Richardson broke onto ‘Daddy’s’ estate with a bunch of other Eastern European XXY pseudo-female athletes, all with facial hair. The guards caught them and brought them to Daddy and me, but when Daddy and I tried to question her, she just kept squeezing my tits, making be go down in orgasm before I could get my questions out!” She looked off to the side like she was looking at Dyke. “Not so tough now, are you, Floofy?”

She looked back at the camera. “Besides, what you REALLY want to see is more of my pet bitch, don’t you?”

The crowd applauded and cheered for her.

“I KNEW it!” she giggled and flounced over to the chain-link fenced kennel that contained the pet pop princess.

Chrissie Wateryear was on her hands and knees in the kennel, naked, wearing a studded leather collar around her neck, with a thin wire leading out her asshole to a small remote-control four or five feet away.

“Hi, Chrissie! Are you glad to see me, girl?” Bethany bubbled.

Chrissie just glared at her competition.

Bethany grinned at the camera. “She’s been a little sullen since obedience school.” Bethany retrieved the remote and began walking out of the kennel carrying it. Chrissie had to follow on her hands and knees backwards lest the tugging at her sphincter trigger another tidal wave of orgasms that would wash her consciousness out, leaving just her bucking, moaning body here for all these people to look at. And take pictures of.

“I’ve gone ahead and taken the liberty,” Bethany smiled to the camera, “of putting her leash up her ass. It’s a vibrating egg and I forced it up her sphincter earlier. If I were to do it now, she’d be lost to orgasms for an hour. And I want to show off some of the neat TRICKS she’s learned! ‘Cause she’s a smart puppy! Isn’t she, Chrissie? Yeeeeaaahh, Chrissie’s a SMART puppy!”

Chrissie just crawled along backwards, following her.

Bethany stopped in the middle of the stage. “Okay, everyone, let’s watch Chrissie’s tricks. Okay, Chrissie! Speak! Speak, girl!”

Sullenly, the pet princess opened her mouth. “Arf. Arf.”

“That’s a GOOOOOD girl! Okay! Beg, girl! Beg!”

Chrissie partially sat up from her hands and knees position to just her knees and brought her hands up to her chest like a begging puppy. “Arf! Arf!”

“Oh, WHAT a GOOD girl! Okay, spread, girl! Spread!”

Chrissie squatted back on her haunches, careful not to trigger any embarrassing orgasms, and spread her thighs wide. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the pop princess pussy.

“Oh, she’s a GOOD bitch! Yeah! That’s a GOOD bitch! Now you stay here while I go get your toy bone for you to frig yourself with!”

While Bethany walked over and dug in a bag, Chrissie carefully got to her feet, then ran across the floor and shoved Bethany off the stage.

Then she spun about to face the camera.

“Jason! Help me! I don’t know what she’s DONE to me, but ... I don’t like it! I’m horny ALL THE TIME and I spend ten hours a day cumming! Please, darling! If our love means anything to you at all, please come RESCUE me!”

“BAD dog!” Bethany climbed back onstage, scowling. “BAD dog, Chrissie!”

Chrissie took several steps back from the oncoming princess. “Please, Jason! SAVE me!”

Bethany grabbed the remote and turned the vibrating egg up Chrissie’s butt on to high.

“Please! Save meeeeeeee—OHGOD!” Chrissie dropped to her knees, her eyes fluttering. “OHGOD!” she gasped, then sank over and began moaning and writhing as she wet the floor with lubricant.

“Well, I guess it’s another week at obedience school for YOU, girl.” She turned to the camera. “Still, Jason ... I LOVE her! She’s a bitch, but she’s MY pet bitch—OUR pet bitch—and since she came from you, I know now how much you TRULY LOVE me!”

Bethany looked off-camera a moment, distracted. “Well ... put him on the speakers!” she smiled. There was some static, then Bethany called to her caller, “Hello, darling!”

“Bethany?! What are you DOING?! That’s my GIRLFRIEND!”

“No, Jason, I’M your girlfriend. She’s just my pet bitch! And I LOVE you!”

“Bethany, you can’t DO this to her! She has a CONCERT to give tonight!”

“Well, her fans will just have to get their tickets refunded and come see one of MY concerts!” She nodded her head. “They’ll be able to see her perform tricks THERE all right!” The audience applauded.

“Bethany, I LOVE her!”

“Oh, but she’s just a skank, Jason! I’M your darling! I make you feel good! SHE just performs tricks! See?!” She gestured at the orgasming princess, “She’s playing whore now, which isn’t really much of a stretch for her!” She twitched her mouth pensively. “As a matter of fact, that’s the only trick the bitch really knows how to do.”

“Bethany! Stop this right now! Get some clothes on her! And stop making her cum!”

“Don’t you order me around, Jason!”

“Bethany, you have to—”

“Kill it!” Bethany ordered to off-camera, and the phone line went dead.

Bethany clapped her hands. “Well ... anyone that wants to squirt in any of my pet’s orifices, she’s all lubed up and ready for ya! Gum her up with cum, boys!” She stepped away as several young men climbed up on stage to squirt the skank.

Bethany looked into the camera. “Jason, you are just an ASSHOLE!”

* * *

“Hmm?” the pretty brunette stopped bouncing and opened her eyes. A man’s head was behind hers, trying to stay behind hers.

Unintelligible muttering from off-camera.

“Oh, sure. Just try not to catch Charles’ face here,” she patted the thigh of the lap she was sitting in, “His wife hasn’t been fixed yet, and she might get a little BITCHY if she knew about him and me fucking.”

More muttering, then the brunette smiled for the camera. “Hi! This is Traci with an ‘i’, and while Bethany is on a phone call with her ‘Daddy’, I’m going to keep the show rolling.”

She squinted to read the cue card. “For our third bitch—the rebellious young student named Felicia, if you’ll remember—Dr Bentley wanted to handle her himself. And handle her, he did.”

Pleasant smile while the camera lingered on her a moment. Then with a grin, “Get clitorized, Joyce. Then we can have a three-way!” She squeezed the thigh she was sitting on.

“Aw, geez!” a male voice cursed behind her.

* * *

The camera cut to the third young girl on a gurney with no hospital gown—just laying there naked but strapped down. As she struggled and thrashed her head and hair around, Dr Bentley stepped up.

“Yahs, hello, my horny little bitch-to-be.”

She glared at him. “I will NEVER submit to the likes of you! Asshole!”

The doctor turned to the camera. “Yahs, yahs. Note the feistiness. For now.”

* * *

Cut to the girl on the gurney after surgery, trying to get her eyes to focus.

“Yahs, how is my horny little bitch-in-training? Hmm?”

“Wh—whuh?”

* * *

Cut to Felicia sitting naked in a chair, the doctor sitting in a chair across from her.

“Come on, little Fifi, come sit on daddy’s lap.”

“Fuck off, asshole!”

Dr Bentley reached out and squeezed a tit.”

“UUUNGGHHHH! UUUUNNNGGGHHH! OH! AAAHHHH!” the student melted onto the floor in orgasm.

* * *

Cut to Felicia bent over a table naked while the doctor held her pressed there with one hand on her lower back. He lightly traced the fingernails of the other hand over her buttcheeks and asshole.

“Yahs, my little Fifi. I can keep this up for ... hours. Until ... you tell me what you want.”

“Touch it!” she gasped, back stiff with impending orgasm. “Touch it! Touch my asshole! PLEASE!” She swallowed hard and shut her eyes. “’Daddy’.”

“Yahs, that is my little Fifi.” He inserted the tip of his finger, and she began bucking.

* * *

Cut to a medley of about ten shots of Felicia’s face bunching up in orgasm.

* * *

Cut to Dr Bentley sitting naked on a chair. He patted his thigh.

Fifi obediently walked from where she was standing quietly naked to the side of the room to take her seat on his thigh and wrap her arms around his neck.

“Wonderful, Fifi, wonderful!” He gave her tit a squeeze, and her eyes fluttered. “Now, who is Fiffi’s daddy?”

“You,” she breathed, “You are Fifi’s daddy.” She nuzzled at his neck a few moments and was rewarded with another tit-squeeze.

“Now, tell me all about your ‘lobotomized’ friends, Fifi.”

She kept her eyes downcast. “Fifi doesn’t care about any of that.” She looked up. “Fifi just wants to fuck.”

“Do you, Fifi?”

Chewing her lip in anticipation, she nodded.

“Then fuck away,” he said magnanimously.

The college girl eagerly crawled atop his prick and sank down onto it, starting to tremble with orgasm.

* * *

Cut to the doctor still sitting naked on a chair. The naked short-haired beauty is still sitting perched around his cock, her arms wrapped around his neck, exhausted from innumerable climaxes.

“How is my little Fifi?” he asked.

“Fifi is one horny little bitch, sir,” she nuzzled his neck.

“Are you now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, Fifi. Tell me about sorority sisters and lobotomies and other such things.”

“Fifi has her daddy, sir, so all is good in the world.”

“You don’t want to talk about any of those things anymore?”

“No, sir. Fifi just want to fuck. Can we—can we do it again, sir?”

Cut to the smile on Dr Bentley’s face.

* * *

Cut to Bethany, naked except for pom-poms, hair in pig-tails. “Hi! This is Bethany Rears, your FAVORITE twat-star! And YES, I MEANT to say that this time.”

The camera shifted, and her gaze followed it. “You might notice that I’m ... well, NAKED! But that’s a good thing.”

The audience cheered heartily.

Giggle. “What I mean is that Daddy wasn’t really mad at me for letting the boys play with my bitch and for calling Jason an asshole. And you ARE, Jason! An ASSHOLE!

“No, Daddy just wanted to have a spot on the show—to make an important announcement. And he said I should dress up like I usually dress up when we’re getting ready to play bedtime games.

“So ... without further ado ... here is the bestest cock in the whole world! Daddy!”

The camera panned around to focus on Senator Del Monte, sitting in a chair without clothes, a surgically-enhanced eight-incher straining at his loins.

“Hi. I am Senator Del Monte.

“If you’re like me, you’ve had it. What started off as a good idea has just ... broken us. What am I referring to?

“This is America. Land of the free. Rule by democracy. Rule by majority. But to safe-guard that the majority doesn’t mistreat any particulary minority, we’ve adopted policies and laws, as well as social attitudes, to grant special favors to minorities.

“In moderation, this might be beneficial. But America has not been a land of moderation.

“People in recognized minority groups went from being grateful, to expecting, to demanding, special privileges. ‘I’m a woman, so you OWE me. I’m black so I DESERVE special privileges.’ Hell, a black man got away with murder a few years back ... simply because he was black.

“There’s a profit to be made by being a minority today. And, conversely, there are huge fortunes at stake if a group is no longer declared to be disadvantaged.

“Will America ever get over the racial strife that has supposedly plagued us? Not as long as it’s profitable to be black. To no longer be discriminated against is to lose a free paycheck, and nobody’s going to give up money like that without a fight.

“Will America ever stop being painted as unfair to women? Not as long as you get special privileges by having a pussy between your legs. If you have breasts you can scream sexual discrimination and take out your boss. I’D like to have the power to just point at an opponent and have them removed and branded an outcast. Power like that is hoarded and defended, so no woman in her right mind is going to let America think women have it equal to or better than men, regardless of any truth.”

“Gooooo del Monte!” Senator Helen E Clit-on came out dressed like Bethany, in just pom-poms and pig-tails. The two girls did a quick naked jiggly routine, cheering “Daddy” on.

“Thank you, Helen E and Bethany.” Then his face got serious again. “People watch. People learn. If you declare that you’re part of a minority group, people are scared to touch you. But other people watch and learn from this.

“So people with Irish descent have begun claiming they are owed just as much as any black because a hundred years ago their granddaddies had to sacrifice their lives and health to work in the coal mines, or starve.

“Germans. Chinese. Left-handers. Blondes. Capricorns. Seinfeld fans. Any physical characteristic you can think of is being exploited, using the same arguments and tricks as the female and black pioneers of such exploitation.

“More and more people are demanding that their lifestyles be subsidized by fewer and fewer non-minority people. What do you think is going to happen?

“I’ll tell you, because it happened today. Wallstreet broke. Economy? Hell, there is no more economy anymore. Japan, Europe, Asia—all broke. China is threatening: fix this, or they will invade, just to keep their economy moving.

“It came down to this: You finally had one poor Joe in Brooklyn trying to work his ass off to support 350 million other citizens, all claiming to be disadvantaged minorities.

“One guy, 350 million leeches—how long did you think his blood was going to last? We all wnt down with Joe. And in today’s global economy, we’re taking the world down with us.

“Unless we can stop it.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. I’ve been in talks with the President and heads of state all over the world. The only thing we CAN do is to freeze things momentarily.

“Then we get all those leeches, all those scabs, all those life-sucking minorities demanding that Joe from Brooklyn subsidize their lives—we get every last one of them stopped.

“Then we start things back up again. With each man and each woman paying their OWN way through this world.

“We are starting with women. Beginning tomorrow, no woman with her panties all bunched up that the world owes her a free ride will be able to receive or cash any paycheck. Women with a less selfish, more reasonable attitude—I’m speaking of clitorized women here, people—will go to work and be paid as usual. But the frigid ones may have to go a little hungry for a while.

“This is America. The land of the free. We are not going to FORCE ANYONE to get clitorized—at least not yet. But we WILL encourage America’s women to adopt a team attitude by halting all financial transactions to or from unclitorized hold-outs.”

He shrugged. “I hate to do this, truly I do. But it’s either this or no more society.

“Joe from Brooklyn simply cannot toil HARD enough to pay for all of you to indulge in the rush you get when you take other people out of th egame by crying sexual harassment.

“Dr Bentley has kindly agreed to work with a team of scientific experts put together by the President and myself to develop some type of similar medical procedure for men. To ... stop ... the exploitative demands of special favors that has broken our economy, our society, the world.”

He stood and walked over to Helen E, who bent over and touched her toes for him.

“Ohgod, YES, Daddy!” she wriggled.

Senator Del Monte inserted, prick in puss, and Senator Clit-on gasped, then sank to the floor, writhing.

“You simply cannot have 350 million credit cards—or 5 billion credit cards in today’s world economy—all running up tabs, and ... everyone ... trying to shirk the bill.”

He continued to Bethany, who touched toes.

“You are SO SMART, Daddy!”

“Thank you, snookums.” He inserted, and she went down in pleasure.

He looked back at the camera.

“This is our plan. The alternative is mob savagery and rioting when people begin dying of starvation, so I’m sure you’ll understand the importance of this.

“This is Senator Del Monte. Have a bright tomorrow.”