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, (except where specifically noted in the ‘Continuity and Background’ and ‘Literary Notes’ sections) is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted (August 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.

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Continuity and Background: This story takes place within the charming dominion of Cherish Valley, if you have never visited here before it is a place where girls are reared to respect the lordship of men and the dominant fashion of the ladies in town is preened and in pink. The original story written by “The Mayor” is titled ‘Pretty Wives in Pink’ and is modeled after the town of Stepford (The novel “The Stepford Wives” is ubiquitous enough, but you may find the graphic novel “Stepford Bound” (by Simon Benson) useful for further reference.) TheMayor’s work can be found at www.bimbofiction.com and I recommend stopping by if you like my work.

My influences come from the writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well as fiction from mygagorder.com and thundershrk. 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.

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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.

Learning French

Prologue
Megan wasn’t very bright. She tried hard, and meant well, but it was only her low mental capacities that kept her from realizing that her friends patronized her by hanging out with her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty—when she put make-up on and batted her eyelashes plenty of men paid attention—it was just that no one who knew her thought of her as much more than a vapid doll…

It was very surprising to her friends, then, to learn that she had gotten a full scholarship to a college in Canada. Apparently there had been some mix-up and she had the same name as some other bright young applicant, an engineer. It was with some trepidation then, that Megan’s mother sent her off to study for a Master’s in engineering. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree in this family, her mother had never gone to college and did not think it strange that her daughter was not only going to college after having never sent in an application, but that she was skipping the whole baccalaureate program as well. To her, it was as though her daughter had just won the lottery, and, despite her daughter’s protests (she certainly didn’t want to go up to Canada, where “It’s cold and the people are strange”) but her mother insisted that her daughter hop on a train to ‘claim her prize.’ Megan’s mother was under the impression that going to college was something her daughter could do in a fortnight, just travel on up, pick up a Master’s Degree in Fluid Dynamics, and pop on back down, simple as that.

Now, it should be noted that the original intended recipient for this ‘scholarship’ was none other than a bright young student, a recent bachelor’s graduate of a prestigious Canadian college, and someone Mr. Streuth had taken a fancy too. The young lass for whom the award was to go was also named Megan Duthers, was also quite shapely, and was not aware that she had ever been the intended recipient of one of Streuth’s made-up awards: Intended to lure unsuspecting young women to their doom. As it was, the insect who flew into the trap was none other than Miss Duthers the former, the one for whom the prerogative train of thought for when she went off to Graduate School was ‘Oh, I wonder if there will be any malls near the college?’

It is quite understandable then, that, upon acquisition of the dunce, after she had been unloaded in Cherish and was able to gaze upon the town for the first time, she was heard to remark ‘Why, college is just like a hospital!’

A New Student
“So you are saying that you never graduated from college?”

“No silly,” the dumb Megan said, “I’ve only just arrived. Can I have my degree now, please?”

“Degree? Degree? Why, you must think…” James paused, finishing his sentence in his mind: “You must think you’re at a real college…” Out loud he said, “Why of course! Of course you can have your degree, only, there will have to be some studying and some tests of course first. Of course of course of course you can have your degree! Just, just follow me to your classroom!” James was ecstatic, here he had ordered a young French Maiden with a Bachelor’s degree and instead Alex had made a mistake. Well of course he still wanted the smarter girl to play with (it was always so much nicer to have someone to talk to sometimes) but this was like a bonus. Everyone knew that if Streuth messed up your order you got to keep the mix-up for free:

Well now, James could live with that. Now, what to do with this young lass, dumb as a brick apparently, well there was no helping some people, but still, mmmmmmm, she did have some other ‘assets’ which quite compensated for it, yes indeed.

“Excuse me, but, have you had your physical yet?” He asked the young girl. Really it was hard to see how Alex could have mixed this up; here this girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen or so. From a Southern state, he gathered, by her drawl. He didn’t usually go for the softer, more airheaded types, but, she was certainly causing him to grow more fond of her with each breath she took. It was just adorable the way she laid her palm across the top of her chest as though out of breath, and the way her chest heaved up and down as she breathed, simply delicious.

“My physical? No, do I need one? Where can I get that? Is that like exercise?”

“My dear lady, please, allow me to escort you to the room where we conduct our physicals. As you know we can’t very well have a beautiful young girl like you going to college here without her getting her shots first, we don’t want you to get sick after all now do we?”

“Oh,” Megan said, making a confused ‘o’ with her mouth. She looked helpless and lost. “Shots?” she said.

“Why yes, all new students must be up to date so as to ensure their absolute healthiest condition. And we simply must get you into some new clothes.” Megan perked up at the mention of new clothes, she loved to shop. She had noticed some of the other students in town wearing cute pink dresses and frilly lace skirts and she was just dying to ask them where they shopped. When she had tried to talk to one of the women in town though, she hadn’t responded. Megan thought that maybe she herself was too dull or stupid to attract the woman’s attention, she had certainly carried herself regally as she had passed by. She had been perfectly made-up with perfectly coifed hair and had not batted an eye, blinked, or even made any sign of noticing Megan when Megan had tried to ask her where she had gotten her gorgeous attire. In fact, the woman had basically ignored her, no sign of notice or expression had gone across her perfectly placid porcelain-like face.

If Megan had reached up and knocked her fist against the woman’s face, as one would a door, she would have in fact noticed that the ‘regal woman’ was indeed wearing a porcelain mask, the better to ‘look good’ for her man. Underneath that doll-face resided a shaved head, wrapped securely in a hood, with stuffed ears under a blonde wig and a well-packed mouth. It was a sign of the times that this woman was lacking any sort of bondage equipment that might have spoiled the illusion.

She had not needed to be bound at all as her owner took her around town for a walk: in her state of sensory deprivation she was unable to sense where she was and was dependant on her husband to guide her everywhere. Her arm clutching onto his shoulder was there for physical guidance as much as any other sort of dependency. If Megan had watched the beautifully made-up woman a little longer, after she had watched her waddle off in her attractive bustier and bouffant undercarriage, replete with pink plumage, lace, and rows of petticoats, she would have seen the man stop his wife by a tree and sit down on a nearby bench. Megan would have seen the woman gather up her trestles and squat down on a square of garden groomed specifically to serve as a ‘rest stop’ for women.

She would have seen the woman grunt and strain underneath her doll-like features, and then, finally, drop what she needed to relieve herself of onto the ground beneath her. Then, like she was well-trained to do, scratching at the loose soil with her feet to roll her droppings under the earth as a cat or dog might do. Afterwards the woman would have stood up, flustered and disoriented, unable to see who might be watching or hear if anyone was nearby, and she would have stood dumbly and waited for her husband to, at his leisure, retrieve her. He might have dozed off, he might have been standing nearby observing the whole execution of her ‘womanly needs’, or he might have been finishing up his paper; either way his woman was in no position to wander off anywhere on her own.

Megan watched these perfectly dolled up women and realized that, since this was college, she could be like them! Yes, that must of course be why college women get more successful men, she thought. “No wonder,” she said to herself, “they go to college to become more attractive and more ladylike!” Well, she could hardly wait to get her degree.

Lesson 1: Learning to Walk

“Now that we have got all of your medicine in you we’re ready to begin.” James smiled down at his charge. It would only be a matter of time before the BMB0 kicked in and the girl would start to feel even more airheaded. She would become more susceptible to suggestion and start to develop in all of the right places. If everything stayed on schedule she would be in and out of her ‘graduate ceremony’ by later that week, Dr. Spencer had assured him that he would keep an operating table standing by.

“Right this way please,” James cooed. Megan followed a few steps behind him, obediently following his lead as he led her through the complex. After a little while she began to get sleepy and her gaze dropped down to his feet, she didn’t notice as she was led deeper into the institution and the ‘classes’ they walked past began to get more degrading and more sexually explicit as continued. Eventually she was roused with a light tap on her shoulder by her guardian, ‘Mr. James’ he had insisted she call him.

“You kind of fell asleep there, well, come right in and sit down, this will be relaxing anyhow.”

Megan nodded dreamily and followed James into the austere room. She sat down at the one desk in the center of the room and did not pay any mind to it as the door slid shut behind them and locked. She stifled a yawn, not wanting to be rude, and watched, mustering some attentiveness, as James strode up to the blackboard and wrote, in large block letters ‘DEPORTMENT.’

“Do you understand what this word means Megan?” He asked her.

Megan giggled a little to herself and nodded, of course she knew what that word meant, “That’s where you go to shop for clothes, like, in the mall, at a deportment store.”

James laughed. “Of course, very good, you’re a very smart pupil Megan.” Megan’s eyes widened in pleasure at the praise and, as James said ‘pupil,’ he noticed that Megan’s had dilated quite nicely. The drugs were taking effect.

“Megan I’m going to skip all of the boring lecture stuff because I can tell that you are so bright, let me just ask you the final question: Megan I want you to concentrate very hard alright, it is very important that you focus all of your thoughts to the front of your head and give this your full ability… Megan, what is the proper way for a woman to greet a man?”

Megan screwed her eyes up, furrowed her brow, and mustered her full intellectual capacities for this one. She thought about it real hard. At some point in time it had been easier to think, and she might have thought the question silly, or sexist, but right now she felt that it was the most important thing in the world to get it right. A few moments passed as she was deep in thought, short infantile images flashed through her mind and then drifted away.

After a little bit her eyes just sort of glazed over as her brain exceeded its ability to think (and James wrote a number down on a piece of paper, a calculation of time between being asked to focus hard and his subject’s loss of cognitive ability.) James flashed her a big smile and started to walk up to her. Megan’s mouth languidly fell open and traces of saliva gathered at the edges of her lips. As James drew near her a small spit bubble formed on her lips, popped, and then dribbled down her chin. More copious amounts of drool joined it and ran over her jaw to drip playfully onto her heaving, growing bosom. James stopped inches away from her and cooed down at her in praise, clapping at her performance. Megan remained unthinking and only mildly registered the praise, her lips rising up a small amount in a smile.

“That’s right Megan! You got it right on the first try: that is just how a woman should greet a man, wow, you’re super smart!” Megan’s eyes closed slightly, the dim bulb still on in her mind filled with warmth and feelings of comfort at his praise.

What followed next was a litany of different sexual positions Megan was coaxed into. She was still fully dressed and never asked to perform any sexual favors but with each position she was shown a strong hand gesture and given a harsh command for.

After several hours of repetition James stopped guiding her into the positions and instead spoke the commands, watching as, slowly, Megan responded, falling down onto her knees and leaning her head back in response to ‘GREET.’

Laying on her side, pulling one knee up to touch her chest and then looping a leg around her neck in response to ‘OPEN.’ A second iteration of the command had her carefully looping her other leg around her neck as well so that she became a nice open gift for her Master.

When she started to tire James let her relax, sitting down next to her and peering into her vacant eyes, watching for signs of struggle or resistance, but finding were none. He was quite happy with the progress of his toy thus far; he would be finished with her training in time to receive the true, smart Miss Megan Duthers on time.

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of receiving his new toy, the one who promised more mental engagement and someone to talk to. For fun he poked Megan in her right breast, watching it jiggle a little as he did so. He swallowed as he stared at her new figure; her breasts had increased by at least two cups since she had arrived, and her butt was filling out nicely. He smiled in satisfaction as he brought her up close to hug her, nodding in approval as his hands wrapped tightly around her still-thin waist and met back up again so that he could put his hands on his elbows as he hugged his bimbo-headed toy.

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“Let’s get you some new clothes shall we, little dolly?” Megan smiled slightly at the mention of clothes, somewhere in her brain she still felt incomplete, she still wanted to look like those women she had seen on the street. James gave Megan a somatic command, chopping his right hand down sharply, indicating to Megan that she was to get down on her hands and knees and crawl. He attached a pink bubbly leash around her neck and led her back down the hallways; she obediently followed demurely behind on her hands and knees, her head hanging low and her vacant eyes staring straight down, she responded to tugs on the leash.

Lesson 2: Learning to Talk

Megan waddled happily down the floor, crawling obediently for her Master. She was glad that the room they were now in was carpeted, she relaxed as James tied her leash around a pole and then stepped off to fetch her ‘dress.’

“Here, lay down and let me put this on you,” James commanded.

Megan smiled blithely at the attention and relaxed some more. She was feeling very light headed and was happy to just go with the flow and enjoy the moment. James smacked himself on the forehead as he unbuttoned his dolly’s clothes and noticed that he had forgot to put her in some nappies or rubber pants earlier during their training. Still, he would get what he deserved, he hadn’t potty trained her yet and he knew better. Groaning to himself in anticipation he was sharply relieved to find that his dolly had only wet herself; he could correct his mistake now.

Taking her street clothes off James proceeded to sponge her body down and then dry her off. When her body was dry he powdered her large, fulsome bottom and then played between her legs for a bit, eliciting a giggle from his toy. He let his hand rummage around her loins, twiddling with her twat for a bit, before returning to the business at hand and strapping a diaper onto her. She seemed to make a small frown at this but put up no objection, just as she had when earlier James had called her a dumb slut and made her go through her obedience training.

James patted his pocket where he had stored the record of that number he had written down earlier. “A low IQ will do whatever you tell it to do, old boy,” he gloated to himself. Next he proceeded to powder down Megan’s entire body, eliciting another playful giggle as he patted her body with it. He made sure to rub in copious amounts into her vast, swelling tits. Lastly of course, he made sure to lather her head up and get out his shoring shears. Before divesting his dolly of its hair he slid her partways into her new dress, making sure that the body-hugging latex secured her arms snugly at her sides, locking them into an purely aesthetic role.

Megan began to tremble slightly at the approaching razor; this was certainly not the beautification she had been expecting. While she had put up with the games she had been asked to play so far because she thought that that was what you did in college, you learned stuff, and had dutifully followed her teacher around, she knew that this was not part of her education. Even her dumb little mind knew that.

Thrashing around now Megan tried to roll away. “Stop that!” James chided her, slapping the side of her face. Megan frowned petulantly and refused to stay still. She made little whining noises that became cries and thrashed frantically when the razor connected with her beautiful gold locks. She squealed like a pig and tried to roll away, succeeding only in tumbling over onto her side and resting there because, no matter how much she tried to toss about she met the insurmountable mass of her graduated tit flesh, holding her down. Her tits served as a natural grounding against her silly notions, she was locked in place, with only a little wiggle room. Mewling loudly now, seemingly unable to remember any coherent speech, Megan’s hair was greedily devoured the hungry razor. James gave her newly bald pate a playful smack and then zipped the suit the rest of the way up.

Megan was now completely swallowed in a bright white latex uniform. Her legs stuck out like a pair of unsightly protrusions from an otherwise unblemished surface. The rest of her, from the waist up, was now completely perfect and beautiful, hidden behind a thick rubber latex covering. Its thick material buried her person, making her into a featureless mass of fetching female flesh. Featureless that is, except for her kicking legs, her large, jiggly ass, and her humongous tits. James pet her chest in appreciation of her fine figure, positioning himself so that his hands could have free reign. He sent a hand around behind to bring her in for a ‘hug.’

Holding her thusly, with one hand tightly embedded in her ass cleavage, and the other firmly in her chest he smiled to himself and tugged his soft, pillowy toy closer. Whispering to the freakish mound of tits and ass James sighed contentedly to himself and murmured “I love you.” Megan was in no position to hear or to respond to this affection, feeling it instead through his tight grip on her sex parts, which, in their own way, returned James’s love in the manner that he desired most from Megan now. “I love you so much,” he sighed again, rubbing her soft bits tenderly, smattering her rubber-smothered tits with kisses and grabbing her ass cheeks forcefully. “Come here and give us a kiss, loverdoll,” James said, reaching in to run his tongue over her ripe cleavage, tucking his hands in behind, laying down on top of her still struggling mass, and forcing her legs down underneath his own so that he could hold her still. “Shhh, shhh, don’t talk little one,” he said. “Can you hear our baby?” he said teasingly, “She’s kicking.” With that mysterious comment he got up off her and prepared her for her graduation.

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Dr. Spencer was ready for the birth. He had the girl up on the table, she was ready to deliver, all that remained now was for the happy father to sign the permissions. “Do you consent to this modification knowing full well that it may impinge the value of your property?” Spencer asked him, knowing what the response would be but obligated under Cherish Property law to inform Craft nonetheless.

“Yes, yes, oh of course yes, this is such a happy day, my little girl is going to graduate.”

Spencer nodded and then prepped his specimen for the procedure; he clinically observed her figure, assessing her current transformation progress under the potent spell of his BMB0 drug. Where only a week before she had been a scrawny, underdeveloped thing she now sported a full set of udders, hanging proudly off of her beleaguered chest, and a properly cumbersome ass, which jutted out rudely from her rear, as though ignorant of the fact that natural proportions dictated that it politely refrain from saddling the dear young woman with all of the extra baggage. Yes, Dr. Spencer noted, this would be a good birth.

Diligently, possessing extra-fine patience and gifted hands, Dr. Spencer divested the young woman of her extra weight and brought the happy news to the Father-to-be:

“Mr. Craft,” he said, exhausted yet proud, “it’s a girl.”

What was wheeled into the room next was a very confused but very pretty young girl. The Megan of before had ceased to be. In her place had been born a woman James could be proud of. Gone were the unnecessary legs that served no purpose—amputated beautifully by the good Doctor, gone was the ludicrously stupid and malignant head that the air headed bimbo had put to such little use, replaced instead with a quite functional, hooded, greet point, equipped with a modern spout:

Where before Megan’s face had gawked in wonder and amazement, stared stupidly around and spouted nonsense out of its ridiculously purposed mouth, now gazed up at James a marvelously decorated face. The entirety of Megan’s head had been sealed up under a tight, form-fitting white latex, her ears sealed up and her eyes covered over, her denuded head had been bundled very tightly into this thick rubber cover, so as to obliterate its features and smooth over the rough parts, her nose, cheeks, and brow. A large spout dominated the lower half of the freakish creature’s face, bright pink lips (permanently stained and forcefully enlarged with heaps of collagen) puckered prettily up at James, a cock-welcoming love nest gaped open permanently from the insides of the young toy’s reproportioned mouth. Where before her lips had been plain and simple they now jutted from her face, a gargantuan resting place for a set of balls and a wide-open ramrod hunting ground for a hungry cock. James ran a hand lovingly over his Megan’s face, feeling the smooth white latex and trying to remember where her eyes used to be, where her cheeks used to appear. The over-filled ovoid beneath him left little to identify as a head, it was simply a large bubbly white ball of rubber with a fetching mouth leading inside it to a world of intimate treasures.

James explored that area right now, running a finger over her bulging lips, inserting two fingers into her widened mouth before, after searching around for a few moments, plunging his whole hand into his new toy’s glistening mouth. Smiling in happy surprise James thrust his hand in further, getting it in with a little effort, as the channel was rather tight, but, amazingly enough, it relented to widen open as he shoved his hand down her throat, getting his elbow in to where her teeth used to be. A pleasant gumming sensation greeted him as the toy he was fisting tried to learn about what was currently at the entrance to her mouth. Further down he could feel the vacillating muscles massage his hand and arm as they worked to push whatever was between them further down.

“Basically we wanted to make it extra comfy for you,” Dr. Spencer explained, “as the purpose is mean to be both soft and yielding on the outside, so it should be on the inside. Superfluous organs were squished or removed to make room for the upgrades to the throat, and, when you reach the entrance to the throat and contact the uvula, it functions as a toggle to switch her over to vaginal breathing.” Dr. Spencer waited a second to let the gist of that statement sink in. He then continued “Of course if pressure to the uvula is removed breathing reverts back up to the top.” Spencer smiled kindly and then gave James the bill. James thanked him for the courtesy of taking off for being a “Friend of Streuth” and then quickly glanced over the invoice before signing it and thanking the Doctor for his work.

“Of course many young women suffer from postpartum depression so if you feel that she is experiencing a slump of mood or sadness you can always bring her back and we’ll give her some NJOY to brighten her right up.” After a second or so of a pause, and after considering something for a moment Spencer added, with some small amount of nervousness, “Of course, if you want some of the stuff that heightens the distress, adds to her despair or inhibits a positive mood you can get some from Alex, I tend not to keep that in the hospital, this is, after all, supposed to be a place where we mend things, and the use of such medication voids the warranty.”

James nodded to him politely, intent on playing with his toy, and ordered it boxed up. He would take it out again later that night, but right now he had a dinner date with his new beau, the fetching young Miss Megan Duthers (the engineering graduate) who was interested in learning about what Cherish U had to offer in its scholarship package. So far she was proving to be a woman James liked very much, and he sort of had a crush on her, he could foresee a future with her where he didn’t change her body much at all and instead enjoyed her for her company and simply kept her on a tight leash. Such attempts had not turned out that well in the past, since most women tended to frown on the conservative mores of the town, but, either way, James was intent on enjoying the ‘honeymoon’ period, as it was called, before young Miss Duthers learned too much about the goings-on about town.

Lesson 3: Learning French

Taken back to the house and unloaded from the cart Megan rolled around on the floor, unable to do much in her blob-like state. She breathed air in through her ever-open and wet mouth, its saliva flowing from it like an aroused vagina and making a stain on the carpet in her wake. She couldn’t hear or see, and could only feel pressure sensations, the rubber confines of her suit making such tactile information as temperature and texture unavailable to her. She relaxed slightly after awhile, resigned somewhat to her fate, unsure as to what would happen to her next.

After awhile she began to despair that anything would happen, she wondered if maybe she was simply in a warehouse somewhere, collecting dust. After several hours (which felt like several days) Megan vowed to do her best to please her owner, whatever it took, to make sure that she got attention from someone. Oh god, it was unbearable! The sensory deprivation and the long boredom conspired against her to drain her of her will.

The only way she really had of interacting with anything was through her mouth, she could feel and taste the carpet, a little. Her huge floppy lips so got in the way of everything. As loathe as she was to do it, since it was a sheer debasement of her being, she started to crawl around the room, mapping it out by running her lips over things, trying to get whatever she could into her mouth in order to build up taste information as well in her database of her surroundings.

After an eternity, and suddenly, the door burst open, not that Megan could hear it, but she felt something land near her butt, a depression in the carpet, and a moment later a booted foot shoved her over onto her side, rolling her like a sausage on her wobbly appendages (her voluptuous tits and ass.) She heard indistinct sounds and then felt a hot slavering cock plunge deeply into her face. She choked on it for a moment but then began to draw in warm air from down below; the switch in her throat had caused her vaginal breathing to activate.

It was a strange sensation, feeling a draft between her legs, but at the moment she moved her focus back to her face, intent on groveling and pleasing her owner. Smacking her lips together to feign happiness with the oral intrusion Megan pretended to be hungry as she felt the long cock snaking down, deeper into her throat. She ignored the weird sensation of it entering into her lower throat and concentrated on smacking her lips and making humming noises to please her occupier.

James meanwhile was enjoying feeding Megan the long warm dildo, making sure that the snaking sausage continued its journey and that a steady supply was coming out of the sausage press. Its contents made it hot and slightly salty and it could be at first mistaken for a cock from a novice blowjob artist such as Megan, who had only ever gone to second base with a guy before.

Putting his fingers down by her pussy James felt the rhythmic draft of air that passed in and out. He felt a shiver of titillation pass through him as he considered what he was going to do next. Megan continued to swallow the long snaking meat, assuredly distressed now as she felt it go into her stomach and begin to coil up. She didn’t realize that James had saved the leftovers from dinner and had been grinding them up and guiding the finished ground-up mess into sausage, or that the sausage press had been positioned in front of her mouth; she just grimaced slightly, unable to prevent the intrusion anyway (lacking a tongue and sufficient muscle to fight back) and tried her best to quell her growing queasiness in the face of --what had become, at this point-- her forced feeding.

Watching his beautiful sucksack hungrily slurp down that long tumescent snake of second-hand food had gotten James quite hard. He had had a wonderful dinner with the smart Megan and had gotten quite horny. He had excused himself after the meat course (snatching up the plates and saying that he would ‘take care of it’) to relieve the pent-up lust that had been building throughout their date.

“Oh Megan,” James thought, closing his eyes and imagining his beautiful date just a few rooms beyond. He quickly slid his pants off, and, his hand still cranking the press, and his other hand still feeling the draft pulse in and out of Megan’s lower mouth, he spread the dumb Megan’s thighs rudely apart with his own and then forcefully penetrated his dumb sack toy’s twat.

Megan immediately seized up, she couldn’t breathe! She felt like her throat had just been clogged. Whereas a split second before her mouth and throat were accommodating a massively long, snaking something which, currently, traversed her gums to her intestines, she now was finding it impossible to get air.

James pulled out of his fucktoy--Megan drew a deep breathe from between her cuntlips, her labia flapping crudely as it wheezed--and then bucked hard back into her, plunging his mighty pelvis forward into her until his balls rested on her defeated pussy. Smiling to himself and running his hands over her curves (momentarily abandoning the crank) James felt himself the proud owner of such a voluptuous fucktoy, such a marvelous floor companion that he for a moment stopped his thrusting. He wrapped his arms almost lovingly around her still way-too-thin waist and gripped his forearms with his hands as they circled her. Megan hastily swallowed the sausage in her mouth, freeing her uvula from contact and toggling her breathe back up to her throat. She sucked air quickly in, in short bursts, the sound rustling James from his reverie.

“Eh? Oh.” James said, resuming service to her mouth, turning the crank with force to get the sausage back into her back throat as quickly as he could. Once there he felt a violent suction on his cock, which was still buried deep in his receptacle’s lower throat. Megan tried to suck air in through her lower lips but found it impossible. She felt light-headed as she stupidly stopped movement and thought and became a gaping orifice, a receptacle, a lifeless toy for a while. James smiled when he saw her go limp, closing his eyes and imagining his dinner date beneath him, fucking away into her love nest with such abandon that he shortly thereafter divulged his dinner present to his bed guest. His semen flew up into Megan’s dumb cunt, and, after he pulled out he heard choking noises down below, her cunt gagging on what he had given it.

He petted her dumb white ovoid of a head and stroked her pink lips, admiring the matching colors between her facial lips and her nether lips. “The pink looks quite good against the white,” he remarked to himself, the Doctor really had outdone himself this time; Megan hadn’t even gone to Canada but had now learned ‘French’ in both mouths.

“Tickle tickle,” James said, inserting a finger into Megan’s upper mouth to stroke the insides of her facial chasm. “That’s a good girl,” he said. Megan didn’t register anything but the strokes on the inside of her mouth; she instinctively latched onto the fingers and began sucking at them. Her belly and uterus fed, James rolled her into the closet of the room, covering her with a small tarp and closing the door behind to occlude her from view. After all, he was going to be having a lady in his room soon, and it simply doesn’t do for a gentleman to keep his female toys in sight:

Megan had been placed in the closet next to other female objects of pleasure: a small, white, plastic dildo, a large, white, rubber dildo, and a medium-sized, triangular, white vibrator. A small sign hung above her in the dark closet she now resided; for anyone who opened the door it provided this helpful designation: French Tickler.

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by Alex Streuth

Literary notes: This tale is a gift for Mr. James Craft, a collaborator, friend in arms, and an accomplished author. I have sought here to detail an abstract he was kind enough to submit to my Transformation Contest, wherein he laid out the basics of the transformation of a young woman from a college graduate to a ‘French Tickler.’ I hope that he enjoys this flushing out of his idea. While it may not be exactly true to what he would have formed in every regard, I feel confident that it touches on many of the main points, and is dotted with many small perks.

Enjoy.

-AS

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My influences come from the writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well as fiction from mygagorder.com, thundershrk, h.grant and sickman.

Keywords: Objectification degradation medical fetish object embarrassment helpless sadistic forced feeding deception patronage

body modifications amputation

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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 their darker appetites. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at Streuthanasia@gmail.com

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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. 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 my hosted collection.