This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story is
fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors or
the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the
pseudonym of the author and a fictional character in these stories. Any characters, places, businesses and/or
circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional. None of the following is based on real
organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real,
living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (October 2005) by the author with permission granted to make copies
only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be
responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find
offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Due to the extreme
nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled
across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard
copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft
copy.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
--
Prologue:
This story takes place within the charming dominion of
You may find the graphic novel
“Stepford Bound” (by Benson) useful for
further reference.) Other influences come
from My Gag Order, Thndrshark, and Gord (also see GordBooks.)
The prominent themes are
humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification,
bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips, forced feeding,
dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term suffering and
servitude.
---
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and
designing. I sometimes come across
inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the
“Committee for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female
Deportment” (the CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from
personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and
scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well
as from public town events and records.
I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these
tales in my free time. While this is
intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been
taken to help increase readership interest.
Also, as I am extremely busy
not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a
genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive
information. In order to request this
more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material
presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your
particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
Another Day
in Cherish
Interlude 1
Samantha woke up to begin the day, the same as always. She awoke from her sleeping crouch already fully dressed. She wore a bright yellow taffeta skirt in translucent latex over a pair of sleeping nylons. She stepped out of the nylons, careful not to catch them on her footwear, the four-inch baby pink heels that she also wore at night. After removing her nylons she crabwalked over to the bidet and cleaned herself, letting the cold water shoot up into her body to complete her morning ablutions. She did nothing to clean up her face, instead simply checking her make-up to make sure it was as good as the night before.
After washing she let the water drip out of her and then crouched over top of the blowdryer to dry herself. While she was drying she checked her crotch for hair and made sure it was smooth and bald. Afterwards she sprinkled some baby powder onto her privates and then slipped into a pair of fresh crotchless nylons. Lifting up her translucent taffeta skirt she put bright red lipstick onto her labia and then let her skirt fall back overtop.
Now that she was presentable Samantha moved out of her dressing closet and into the main house area. Her Master was still asleep and the sun was not yet up but she had many chores to attend to. She went first directly to the kitchen, her high heels click-clacking on the tile as she entered daintily. The wig she had put on for that day was bright blonde and arranged in a bob that fell to her shoulders. Her massive chest, a prerequisite for employment in this household, heaved and bounced as she traversed the kitchen.
Her bust had been much less ample before she had been taken in by this Master, but she had gotten used to the extra weight and was now able to move around without tottering too much. She knew that her body was his property and that any change that might be made to it was completely at his discretion.
Once in the kitchen she put on a half-apron that fit around her neck, it covered her top, skirting out to cover her curving torso, but stopped short at her waist; it was Master’s belief that a woman’s privates should always be available for inspection and that to cover them was a sign of disrespect. It came naturally to Samantha, having been in her Master’s household for many weeks now, not to question such direction and behavior, and, in the few times when she had been allowed in public it had struck her as odd when, in contrast to the women in her Master’s household, many women in public did not dress in this fashion.
It had filled her with new embarrassment being seen in public like that with all of the other women suitably covered. It had made it blatantly obvious, in comparison, how on display her pussy was. It was framed, basically, by the rest of her clothing, so that while she appeared a perfectly made up and dressed woman, her vagina was ubiquitously on view. The transparent layer of latex overtop did only a minimal job of hiding it and, in fact, only added to the intensity of gazes that shot her way, each of which seemingly penetrating her small amount of visual covering with ease. It had made her blush and seek to want to cover her nethers with her mittened hands.
She had not, of course, as that would have earned her a scolding, but had instead, as instructed, in response to the sudden attention to her privates, had gripped her skirt in her hands and curtsied to those who were staring. Afterwards she kept her hands on her skirt and tried to pull it further down, as though by doing so she would in some manner conceal it better. The men watching only found this cute and adorable and remarked so, causing her to blush more, but the transparent nature of her skirt prevented her efforts at hiding anything.
She had wanted to curl up into a little ball, but had instead stood dutifully, her cheeks burning scarlet, while her Master talked about her at length and rattled off some figures about the length and width of her vaginal canal, its elasticity factor and the dimensions of her clitoris. The men had murmured and then bent to stare more intently while her Master continued his verbal dissection of her. She had thought that maybe it would end but two of the men who were examining her had gotten into a heated debate about the exact properties her labia possessed, one of them claiming the left to be slightly larger and the other remarking casually that it was the right.
While it did not matter much to the two men there was some obvious contention as to who of the two was correct and after a bit of a heated argument the two men stooped close to judge it better. Their breath fogged up the latex of the skirt and by this time Samantha was so shaken up at this intrusion that she was crying. Tears were streaming down her face but none of the men seemed to notice, they were too busy trying to gauge the diameter of her clitoris by sight.
“I say old chap, its definitely 3/8ths of an inch and not a bit more.”
“No no, my old friend, I would sight it as more of 5/8ths and not a bit less.”
By the time the two men had agreed, amiably, on ½ of an inch Samantha had been through crying but had the new embarrassment of needing to hold her bladder. She had almost gotten used to their intense gaze upon her coose, but now blushed once more and squirmed a bit to not pee right in front of them. She cast her eyes downward and began biting her lip. Her Master, a very good observer, asked the two men to back up.
“Gentlemen, I believe that my pet needs to relieve herself and she knows that to do so while you are in danger of being struck would be blasphemous, however, if you will allow her the space, I believe she can go about her business.” Samantha was dumbstruck, her Master wanted her to pee here?! In front of these men.
They seemed to think nothing of it, instead looking at each other as they started a new discussion about the amount of time a woman can hold her blatter. Her Master patted her head encouragingly.
She held it, not wanting to go, but continued to squirm.
“There there pet, its only natural, you’re just a woman, there’s nothing wrong with going in public, you are not held to the rules of society as men are.”
After a few more moments he grew impatient and tapped her on the head “Come now pet, don’t be shy, you’re being quite silly and obstinate for no reason. You are only a girl, and no harm is done, you are making me late and embarrassing me in front of my friends, really, to think that one of my girls might not know how to go in public.”
Samantha let go of her bladder and started to pee in front of the group of men, the flow draining out onto the grass. Her Master barked an order at her and, not hearing him in her private shame, he dragged her the few feet to stand next to the tree and then lifted one of her legs up for her. She was now peeing onto the base of the tree, her leg raised, her head bowed in shame with the men around her applauding. Her Master, finally relieved that she was doing it and doing it right, smiled in appreciation at her performance.
--
In the kitchen, with her mouth filled by the functional gag that muted sound but allowed entrance to her mouth, she crouched down in front of the refridgerator and clamped her mouth-gag onto a spout affixed for a feeding purpose. After a moment the connection was complete and a cold sludge began dripping into her mouth from the plastic phallus. She swallowed it, ignoring the clammy taste and dutifully slurped it down until she was full. Having had practice she was able to swivel her gag-hole off of the tube in such a manner as to prevent any of its fluid from dripping onto the floor. She hated having to clean it up if it did.
Next, and her morning was completely by rote thus far, with nothing unusual impinging on her she simply carried on as she did every morning, she opened the fridge and began cooking breakfast for the family.
She cracked three eggs for the Master’s son, and began them frying while she prepared pancakes and apple slices for her Master. She poured three glasses of orange juice and then set the array of dietary supplements the Master had set as mandatory for his wife’s morning feeding.
When all was ready Samantha set the table and then crawled under it, waiting patiently. If any of the family showed up for breakfast she would be ready, and if they did not then she would wait patiently until her next duty called. If no one had showed by 11am she was to take the pills to the Master’s wife and feed her manually herself (although, since it would be occurring privately and there would be no public front to it the nicety of orange juice would be foregone and the Madam would swallow the pills with simply water.)
After a few moments Samantha heard the telltale jingling that indicated that Master was leading his wife down the stairs, Samantha tensed in anticipation. She hoped that when Master sat down he would not find his food too cold; it was kept on a hotplate, but there was nothing in this world that could stop her from worrying until he actually sat down, began eating, and did not rebuke her.
Looking up a bit from under the table Samantha could see her Master leading his wife down the stairs, after a quick peek Samantha put her gaze back down to the tile, hoping that Master had not seen her look up. As a maid she was not permitted to gaze upon him without instruction.
She had confirmed for herself, though, in that short glance, that the Master of the house and his wife were indeed coming for breakfast. His wife’s nose, its septum pierced and adorned with a lovely jingling cowbell clanged noisily as she descended the steps. Additional horizontal barbells adorned her juddering nipples which sat atop pointed and fat cow tits that her Master referred to as his ‘pride and joys.’
When in the house the woman of the house was often kept sitting by her husband’s side, her large breasts naked and available for petting. When she sat it was often with a cloth over her face to better allow her husband to concentrate on whatever serious business might be at hand. “A man’s wife should be a source of relaxation and not a distraction,” he was often fond of saying.
At this moment Samantha was bracing herself for one of two reactions. If the wife sat down at the table in her chair (as directed by her husband) Samantha would crawl forward and attend to the Master, if, on the other hand, the wife was sat on the floor and not in her chair, then Samantha would crawl forward and attend to the wife. As it was the Master sat his wife down in her chair and then motioned for Samantha to crawl off into the next room, he desired privacy.
--
With Samantha out of the way George Litman gazed lovingly at his gorgeous wife. She was so lovely, with her full, radiant orbs jutting out proudly from her chest. He occasionally was struck by the odd curiousity to look at her face, but he knew that it was often best imagined and not looked at, it wasn’t his primary interest in her anyway, and they both knew it. He was happy here in Cherish, where he needn’t pretend. When he had first met his wife, they had married outside of Cherish you know, well, that had been a world away, but he could still remember it. The first time he had gazed upon her his eyes had fell squarely upon her massive bosom. It had been massive even then!
Well now that they were in Cherish things were even better! His wife’s natural beauty had only been enhanced by the surgery, from a modest E to a delightfully more pronounced FF cup; George had never been happier. What was more, she was just as beautiful now as when he had first married her, gone was that slight sag that gravity tended to add over the years, and with the wonders of surgery augmentation had allowed her massive chest to stand perpendicular to her torso. He cleared his throat, realizing that he was becoming sentimental and began portioning his food out, cutting the pancakes and lifting an apple slice to his mouth to snack on.
He got up from his seat and leaned over to his wife, making sure that her bib was on properly before strapping her in to her high chair and then popping open a can of strained peas. At the sound his wife cringed, dreading the feeding, but he would savor their time together: Today he had several business meetings to attend but right now it was just he and his wife, alone, and it was important to begin the day right, and to take one’s time with the simple pleasure in life.
--
Interlude 2
Daisy was nervous. It was just a routine operation but she was worried nonetheless. What if something went wrong? What if, instead of making her more beautiful for her boyfriend it made her hideous? What if the doctor’s knife slipped, and marred her? It was just a simple, routine operation, but she was worried! What if . . . She stopped, she was doing it again. Her boyfriend was always chiding her for that, she started to worry and then her thoughts piled up and then she started vocalizing them and rambling on.
Her boyfriend had seen the worry on her face and had anticipated her rambling tirade. He had cringed just as she started talking and it helped her to remember what she was doing and to be quiet right away. He walked over to her, comforted her, patting her on the head and telling her that it would be alright. She nodded and put on a brave face, and felt better, knowing that he was with her.
“Its going to be fine honey, don’t worry about a thing,” he said. She nodded and smiled at him, and he motioned her forward, into the operating room. She started to worry again, but caught herself before she started speaking.
“I’ll be right outside when its over, ready to greet you and see the new, more beautiful you!” he made her feel so wanted and needed she loved him so much she would do anything for him god she was so lucky to have him . . . She stopped herself again, god it was so hard, she was ever so grateful that he had agreed to this operation. It was either that or break up, and she couldn’t live without him. She knew how hard her ‘condition’ made it on them. Hopefully this surgery would fix all that though, she knew it would, it had to, it would be alright, she knew it would, if only, well, she hoped nothing would go wrong . . . The doctor was looking at her with a frown. She shut her mouth, oops, she had started talking again, god she felt so stupid, always talking, just such a dunce: if only she could control it better she wouldn’t be necessary to . . . She stopped, she was going to just stop . . . it was so hard though.
The doctor took her inside and she laid down on the table and the mask came down on her face to coax her to sleep. She panicked again but the Doctor patted her head and reassured her as well, stroking her breasts and thighs until she relaxed and let the anesthesia run its course. She knew that it would be ok, nothing was going to go wrong, it was just a routine procedure…
--
When she woke up she knew something was wrong. She could feel it, something just didn’t seem right. She felt strange, somehow, light-headed, but, nothing seemed wrong upon first glance. Still, she was groggy, maybe she was just panicking, she did that sometimes, panicked, and worried, and fretted. She needed her boyfriend, she needed him now, he would make sure that everything was ok, he would tell her that it was ok, he would make her feel so much better.
She opened her eyes up all the way and it was bright! She closed them again. Slowly she opened them, to see her boyfriend standing over her, smiling down at her, telling her that everything would be alright, that everything would be fine. “I love you,” she said up to him, but no sound came out, just her lips moved.
She was immediately worried, but then she remembered what she had gone in to get an operation for, and she chided herself mentally. Her boyfriend beamed when she talked with no sound. “Oh honey that’s perfect!” he said. “You’ll make such a wonderful addition to my household now.”
“You mean it?!” she was so happy, but of course no sounds came out, “You’ll let me . . .” she felt so silly, it would take some getting used to, she stopped talking. She just continued on in her thoughts, “Oh boy I’m going to be a part of his household now, I wonder if that means marriage? Do you think, will he marry me? Is that what he means, no, that’s not, maybe, I don’t know, but I don’t need to know oh I love him so much and I just want to be with him…”
These thoughts, and others like it, which had caused a strain on their relationship in the past when she had simply vocalized them, would now cause no more damage to their budding courtship. The young man would have a much quieter and more enjoyable time being with his young beau and she would, in time, learn to be more passive and more accepting of her role.
She would learn to better pace herself in their lovemaking, and would no longer interrupt with some thought or bit of conversation or concern. It had been a plague before, always having her talk during their intimate moments, but after this minor corrective surgery they would enjoy many happy months together before he would tire of her and find some new young thing to play with. The best part was that when he was to move her out of the bedroom and into some storage closet in his house, she would have no voice to complain with.
He gazed down on her and stuck his finger in her newly muted mouth, smiling when she greedily sucked on it as one of the new ways her mouth would express its love for him.
Interlude 3
Matilda was tired of cleaning; it was all she did, day in and day out. It irked her to think that just months before she had been the pretty young thing that the Master of the house had taken out walking around town, dancing, and even to parties. It really made her burn with fury to see that new young strumpet that he was toting around.
Still, having been in Cherish for some time now she knew her place and would not think to complain. She washed and she ironed and she cleaned. She sighed, while it would be pleasant to think of some way to catch the young man’s eye, she knew it was over between them. She had gotten old. She frowned, she was only 26 but already, in Cherish, that was the age of old maids.
She sighed again and shook her head. She only got sentimental like this on certain days, usually she did not mind cleaning and laundering. It was certainly a much better life than some women got, she shuddered, thinking of some of the one’s the Master kept in the basement for his amusement. While Cherish might do its best to maintain its façade it was a matter of fact, she postulated, based on the limited amount she had seen (especially that one time her Master had thought it amusing to take her with him to an event at Streuth Manor, that had been something…) indicated to her that basically, every household, every household in Cherish, while to all appearances was white picket and all that, had some sort of deviance inside.
Not that Matty thought it was all about Cherish either, she figured, from her wise age of 26, that basically all people had some sort of perversion they kept hidden in public. She shrugged, not that it mattered, but, well, here in Cherish, it meant that most houses had basements, and that most of those basements, if not all of them, had at least something private in them. She tittered to herself thinking about what some of the young Masters must think of themselves when they first come up with something to keep in there.
They must think they are the first, or the most original, they must think that, in their naivette, that they are the only ones to have come up with the idea. Matilda again shuddered, then mentally rebuked herself for making fun of such serious things. It was horrible, simply horrible what some of those girls had to endure. She frowned, she bet no one knew to what extent such depravities existed. It was only in her role as washwoman for several houses in the community that she were in such a position to even be aware of such knowledge.
She didn’t speak of it to anyone, no, she knew better than that. But still, it begged the question, did the men of those houses know that they were not the only ones with secret dungeons? It was kind of funny really, what with the standard lifestyle of Cherish being what it was what some of those depravities became. I mean, Matty here stuck herself again mentally, all kidding aside, some of it was heavy shit, and she certainly felt bad about it, but, in some of those basements, I mean, come on, it was just ironic.
She had been in some of them, because she made her rounds, and in those, the ones that were extra secret, because in Cherish they were extra depraved, what went on was just funny. In some of the young Lord’s of Cherish’s basements they set up mock homes, a drawing room and a living room mainly, and they treated their women as equals. As equals! It was just silly. Of course it was all done in secret, and the women didn’t have any choice in the matter, and they could never speak about it, but, for a few short hours a week, say one hour scheduled here, and one hour scheduled there, the same as a man, in a non Cherisian society, might set aside for a Mistress, some of the young perverts in Cherish were actually treating their women as equals.
The very idea, it was ludicrous. But it just goes to show, Maddy thought, that what is considered normal in one society is taboo in the next. The luxury, she knew, of even being able to think such enlightened thoughts, of being able to enjoy such ironic ideas was due to the man of the house next door’s fascination with herself, Matilda, as a creature of such higher intelligence. It was his delight to borrow her for a few hours a week, with his neighbor’s permission of course, and use her for these ‘tea-room’ scenarios. To that end she was kept free from mind-altering drugs or surgeries, and as such she did not mind her job as wash woman.
The physical drudgery of it might be degrading, but it was
no worse than some women she knew who lived in ‘normal’ societies in the rest
of the
She tutted herself, there was too much risk, who knew, after
all, with the men in town being who and what they were, who exactly would be
monitoring whose behavior and who might not be all that she appeared to
be. So she darned her socks, and
operated the iron, and thought her thoughts, and kept up appearances, not
waiting to make a move, but instead, just living, and occasionally growing
sentimental at the thought of those dances she used to be taken to.
---
by Alex Streuth
This is a short piece to show
a peaceful and purposefully simple and uneventful day in Cherish, in three
tableaus. It is important to emphasize
the myriad simple, plain, non-dramatic events that unfold charmingly throughout
the day, every day, in beautiful
Enjoy.
-AS
--
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written adult
story that allows the reader to indulge in a fantasy setting. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at
Streuthanasia@gmail.com
--
Reader suggestions are always
welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of
clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. (read: fetish) that you wish
inserted into the busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth
please do not hesitate to contact me regarding it. I will see it I can fit your order into their
schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories
(www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Alex_Streuth/www/)
for a comprehensive study.