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 (March 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.  Cheers.

 

- A.S.

 

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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 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.)

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

Also be warned that this story contains numerous amounts of scat (women’s food), which is used to fully explore the depths to which women can plumb in Cherish society.  Since this acts as an extension of my previous, the must read ‘Alex’s New Design,’ which set the bar for depravity, and serves as a springboard for this sequence of events, the depravity is increased.  The main intent of this story is to further the degradation, humiliation, torture, and general unpleasantness of the circumstances surrounding its (female) subjects.  For the sake of readability, please note that each ‘waste unit’ in this story is a highly modified young woman, (again, please see ‘Alex’s New Design’ if the description concerning how a woman is modified into this object seems lacking in this story.)

 

 

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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. 

 

 

Plumbing (the depths of design)

 

 

Prologue, Alex starts his day

 

Just a few doors down from the Doctor, inside of the bustling home of Alex Streuth (a stark contrast to the super-controlled and largely inanimate confines of Dr. Spencer’s abode) we find the day’s activities in full swing.  Maids bustle about, the ones without arms sweeping up with broom attachments.  These are affixed to the sides of tight belts worn around their waists.  They swept the floor by swishing their rear back and forth moving the brooms in a rhythm to clear dust out of the way.

 

Some maids are allowed arms but they are few and are usually the trusted heads of staff, who reported directly to Alex’s wife, the head of the household.  This dear lady had been assigned to Alex when he had first moved to Cherish and was not as comely as some of his more recent acquisitions.  Still, he had certain affections for her, she being his first canvas to work on undeterred by the morals of modern Western society.

 

To that end he considered all of the alterations and modifications he had made to her a sign of his love for her; he made her more into the vision of loveliness he longed for every time he added a new feature to her heavily modified form or subtracted another function that he considered superfluous.  She was his muse in a way, inspiring him to new heights in his quest for the perfect design.

 

He had perfected some designs already, of course, considering one of the more perfect of his many creations to be the girls he had modeled after Tammy’s reduced form and which he had then subsequently stationed around the house for his convenience. [See ‘Alex’s New Design’]  In fact he was getting up out of bed at the moment to use the unit he had recently installed in the housing beneath it.

 

 

Chapter 1, pleasure in the bedroom

 

It was a simple affair, much like using a chamber pot.  He moved a panel in his bed to one side (his house was nothing if not well-designed and constantly changing in structural nuances) and then rested comfortably, the covers still partly covering him and providing him warmth while he went about his business.

 

Paying the young girl below him no mind except to note her performance by speaking a number brusquely to the notetaker beside him, who in turn would update a small sheet that was kept on a clipboard positioned within easy viewing range of the motionless waste unit’s field of vision, Alex relaxed and let his bowels go about their natural business.

Afterwards he closed the unit’s housing, securing it back under the bed so that an observer would not notice anything amiss.  Regarding the clipboards, they are used to keep a tally of the unit’s performance, as well as the performance of the rest of the girls living similar lives throughout the rest of the house.  Each unit in the house knew where she stood in relation to the others in Alex’s eyes.  They had many long hours to contemplate the impact of that small, softly spoken word (which they could never hear) that indicated a rise or a fall in numerical standing.

 

It was a great honor among that elite (and miserable) group of unlucky damsels who had been converted into these secret storage units, to serve in the Master bedroom, where Alex slept.  It brought with its station more comforts:  More opportunities for pleasurable communion with and attention from Alex (always in the same form of interaction) as well as additional food and nourishment.

 

--

 

The young pitiful girlthing that served beneath Alex’s bed trembled slightly as Alex spoke softly to the notetaker beside him, anxiously awaiting her performance evaluation.  When the clipboard was updated by a different servant unit later on she noted with horror that her standing (she was #063) as favorite in the house had lowered a bit, from 992points to 988.  She was now only 8 favor points ahead of her closest competitor, unit #044.

 

For the following nine hours (before Alex’s next visit) the young girl in the disgusting confines of the coveted space beneath Alex’s bed fretted over her performance:  Had she not sucked arduously enough, made enough gurgling mewls with her inner throat to indicate obeisance and groveling?  Or, had the unthinkable happened?  Had she not swallowed quickly enough or broken the pattern and messed up her morse code while swallowing rhythmically to spell out ‘I luv u’?

 

--

 

This was her signature technique, which, she believed, had earned her the top honor among the lowest functioning females in the household: [short swallow, short swallow, pause, short swallow, long swallow, short, short, pause, short swallow, short swallow, long one, pause, short short short, long swallow, pause, short swallow, short swallow, long swallow, pause, and then either a repeat or a very obeisant and gruelingly long swallow to fill the rest of their time together, depending on how much more ‘talk’ time she felt she had left]

 

This beautiful technique she had perfected in her mind while she had occupied the lowest position in the house, after having been told that advancement only came through sycophancy.  How far she had come since then, though, ironically, when considered spatially, was only actually a few feet ‘up in the world.’

 

 

Chapter 2, the house’s hierarchy

 

In Streuth’s domain, the top ranking waste unit was serviced by the bottom ranking waste unit, which currently meant that after Alex finished with #063, the contents of his bowels would be processed by the young girl, she being the Master bedroom’s waste processor, and then flowing down into the food trough of the pitiful girl in the lowest ranking position, who resided even further below.

 

#063 had moved up quickly even though she had only few opportunities for advancement, but that had been after the mandatory ‘breaking in’ period was over, when she had occupied the spot where she now shat.

 

She had been moved up to the second lowest position, in the greenhouse, to learn another lesson (first that life could be very much worse if you don’t obey, and second, if you are not useful you will eventually fall by the wayside.)  As Alex seldom ventured into the greenhouse each visit had to be quality if she wanted to advance at all.  Each rung up the ladder meant more opportunities to show off her deportment when her master called as each advancement brought her up to a more busier place in the house.)

 

[The greenhouse, coincidentally, is also where old units are ‘put out to pasture’ so that their parts can replenish the soil after they are no longer usable.]  It is a necessary part of the life (and the design) cycle, but one which Alex does not care to dwell on, instead stopping by only occasionally to check on the women he had hopes would one day provide topiary delight for men by gaining nourishment from the sun (it had not worked so far) but he was spurred onward by the cock-hardening prospect of bound and squirming women striving to ‘open their petals’ to the nourishing rays.

 

--

 

After many unsuccessful attempts at her Morse code-like swallowing (such an obeisant and disgustingly sycophantic mode of communication) she finally succeeded after many failures to perfect the maneuver that then swiftly brought her up through the ranks (or so she believed) to replace the top unit in the house, #002.

 

This was much to the relief of #002, who thought that she was going to be released into something better, she had been in Alex’s bedroom in the spot usually reserved for the top ranking unit and hated it, but she was not put there for good performance, rather, because of her unwillingness and inability to accept her function in her new life:  she struggled, bucked with her neck, and tried to spit back up and resist her station in life at every opportunity.

 

Alex considered her not a failure but rather instead a unique ‘opportunity’ to expound his belief system (in)to (he was a sucker for an unwilling audience and did best to share his concerns with her roughly three times a day, for months, to her still valiantly resisting horror and growing fatigue.)

 

After he tired of this game Alex replaced her with something new:

(#002 had been spared what is now the breaking-in phase for new units, not having had to ever serve and therefore not aware of the lowest position in the house.)  She came to realize, with increasingly dawning regret, that there was indeed a way for her situation to become far worse.

 

--

 

The lowest ranking waste unit in the Streuth household is the punishment position and is only moved up when a new unit is acquired.  Upon installation it is positioned beneath a plastic funnel which constantly recycles the waste from both itself and its own ‘feeder unit’ (the waste unit installed above it, the top ranking waste unit in the house) back up into the hopper which that top ranking unit also empties its bowels into, the one which it ‘eats’ from, meaning, poured down atop its face.

 

--

 

The following are notes taken Alex’s design notebook:  Because of the funnel’s direct intake (it goes into the woman’s facial mouth, rather than resting atop it) the bottom unit does not receive any pleasure from the outside of her lips (arguably the most intense.)  It should be restated that these modified women have enhanced facial cavities, so while a normal person might touch their lips together all day long these units are unable to, their faces resembling the flowering folds of a vagina, and the puffy lips stay on opposite sides of the billowing, pillowy visage, unable to make contact where it counts (believe me, this part of the design was tested thoroughly.)  To compensate for the fact that these creatures’ mouths are open all the time they have had increased salivation induced to keep them wet and inviting.  Furthermore, the addition of a long log of waste into one of these creatures’ mouths is a heavenly experience for them, the inside of their mouth and throat being patched with nerve bundles from the (afterwards sewn up and closed over) original vagina which forms the basis of the waste units’ existence.  Sure they would love to have a nice hard cock thrust down their mouths, but what man would want to stick his revered manhood into that filthy thing?  That’s a waste disposal hole, that’s akin to sticking your prick into a toilet, and only a man not in his right mind would do that.

 

--

 

The bottom unit still receives pleasure from opening her mouth and swallowing but receives no human interaction of any kind nor light or stimulus other than the constant drum of insistent ‘patrons’ calling at her front door. If she holds her mouth closed (which she can do for short periods of time before tiring) the waste will eventually reach the bottom where it will be cycled back up to her again anyway.  There is no escape through death as her lower breathing orifice is sufficient protection to eliminate the threat of suffocation and with the constant recycling and fresh infusions from above she receives (eventually) enough sustenance to survive.  There is no sense of a passing of time since the cycling around her happens at a slow pulse, allowing for time to seem to pass more slowly with the only break from the routine being the occasional fresh food from above and her own defecation back down into her feeding supply trough.

 

 

Chapter 3, going with the flow

 

Any unit changes its rebellious thoughts into eager and obeisant ones after serving for a mere two weeks in this position, (most do anyway, and Alex is contemplating installing a third station even further down and is speaking with some of his nutritionist friends in town about the feasibility of this diet.  But alas, with his current schedule Alex has not had the opportunity to acquire any replacements for at least two months, and #002 has been down there this whole time.

 

In fact, she would be mentally numb by now, if not for the surreptitious addition Alex made after three weeks to her confinement container.  Normally the only form of stimulation any of the units has is an electrical one for the nervous system to keep sores from developing and to keep the body fit.  #002 was getting upgrades!

 

As the guinea pig for his new design (hearing transplantation being the first part of it, which he had been speaking with Doctor Spencer about) Alex installed a pair lenses over her eyes (using thin state-of-the-art television technology so that she could view the video stream he pumped into her while still doing nothing to hide her eyes (and their beautiful expressions) from being seen.  The lenses over her eyes pumped a feed from cameras into her eyes, leaving her unable to watch anything but what they showed her.  If she blinked or closed her she could still see them, and they were only deactivated for periods of sleep and R.E.M. which Alex carefully programmed.

 

--

 

Most of the time the video feed comes from inside her containment chamber; showcasing the wonderful vistas of her nightmarish prison from different angles all brought to her in beautiful Panavision.  (“You haven’t really seen brown in all of its hues and shades until you’ve seen it in Panavision,” Alex likes to joke.)

 

Sometimes the camera zooms in on a particularly disgusting or revolting facet of her life, bringing fresh revulsion to her features before she vomits out of her rear and down into her food trough, her wonderful new addition being mixed back in with the other crap and waste that accumulates over time, for her to re-enjoy later.  It goes without saying that one of Alex’s most oft-repeated ways of patronizing the young, trapped #002 is to happily pipe into her ears through the microphones a cheery “Re-enjoy!” as the mood strikes him (which is anytime really.)

 

--

 

She can watch but has no control over what is shown to her, sometimes the view will focus on her rear orifice as it deposits sickly her processed waste down into what will later be her food, or the action up top as the unit she services makes toilet noises and empties fresh new ‘manure’ down into her unwilling face.

 

Very rarely, however, the feed comes from the other camera, the one Alex installed to make sure she keeps a firm mental grasp on reality.  While all of CherishMedia is grounded through wire, Cherish can still receive broadcast media without exposing themselves, or their privacy, to the outside world.  The other camera shows scenes to ground #002’s mind in world events, when it activated (which is on a random timer with a minimum of 8 hours and a maximum of 4 days) it plays 6-20 minutes (again random) of CNN news.  “Remember who’s paying for all this,” Alex joked as he secured her back in after the installation.

 

--

 

The joy of it all, for Alex anyway, is that since it’s all automated he never has to do a thing.  In fact there is another automated feature of her hell compartment which he enjoys often as well.  He enjoys scenes from inside her living ‘bath’ that are captured by another camera he had had her new equipment installed which features an incredibly detailed and awesome view of the front of her face. The camera is very unobtrusive and silent so that the girl has no knowledge that she is being taped, and it is trained on her eyes and captures her facial expressions, but only switches on to record when her face struggles to escape its burden (of the fecal droppings pouring constantly from above.)

 

These are then stored in the house’s database, uploaded for him to view digitally at his leisure or to show to friends on his large screen TV when he entertains guests.  His favorite tapes to watch are those compilations of #002 as she futilely tries to keep her shit-stained vagina closed (the putrid mix of liquid and solid pouring down onto her face quite becoming of her.)  When she resists, and her jaw muscles tense, the record feature is tripped so that as he watches the recording he gets an account of each of her attempts to refuse her endless feeding flow.

 

The attempts at resistance are so cute and last as long as she keeps her vagina closed as tightly as she can (which is only most of the way of course.  None of the waste units are able to close their vaginas ALL the way (that would be a major design flaw.))

 

It is so wonderfully entrancing to watch it try to keep its mouth-flower closed as much as it can for as long as possible, its just absolutely delightful.  They can last anywhere from split seconds of resistance + the customary 15 seconds of additional viewing pleasure which is added to each ‘trip’ of the record button so that Alex can enjoy watching the waste flow into the tiring and relenting mouth, the stream regaining its hold over the darling, and pours rightly and triumphantly back into her mouth.

 

Her record for resistance is a darling 2minutes and 18seconds and you should see her sweat and hold out on that one, her jaw must have ached after keeping her pussy closed for that long (another of Dr. Spencer’s elegant implementations of Streuth’s design [the jaws are relaxed when they are fully open.]) before the muscles in her face finally gave out and it resumed its natural, relaxed wide open state (and grimacing in disgust,) as the vile mixture flooded back into her, back into the defeated object-person.)

 

Alex checked the tape logs and (while normally it (#002) makes at least a token resistance every few minutes to stop the flow from entering, after this particular long bout that she had lost, waste disposal unit #002 kept its vagina fully open for business (in its relaxed state) for five hours before finally regaining the strength to take up the futile fight once more.

 

Of course, if she ever eats too much or her stomach becomes too full she simply voids (regurgitates) it out of her ass and she is helped to it again later.  Ah the beauty of modern science and female engineering.

 

--

 

At the end of the CNN viewing a specific ten second clip is played, showcasing her benefactor expressing his opinion for her.  This clip #002 found repugnant at first when she still resisted Alex’s hold on her yet finds it disturbingly appealing now as it features the one thing missing from her life, the blessed release of lip contact.  (Remember the trough’s drip is directed into the center of the poor creature’s mouth and therefore gives her no lip pleasure, even with her vagina closed as much as it will go it still drips down into the center, neatly avoiding the (so close) sides of the unit’s pitiful attempts to touch the brown liquid that feeds her.)

 

This clip shows handsome Alex looking down at a toilet bowl, the camera view coming from inside.  He drops his trousers while grinning down and then neatly turns around and the last shot is of his ass getting closer and closer, (teasing her) his sphincter opening up.  As the first glimpse of something protrudes and begins to make its way out, the video feed cuts to a 3 ‘bip’ 2 ‘bip’ 1 and then back to the regular camera.

 

Additionally, in between each ‘bip’, the insertion of two individual frames out of a film flash for about five long, agonizing seconds apiece .  #002 hears the bips from her new focus of hearing, imagine that, her ears had been transplanted to inside her sphincter, what will they think of next.

 

As she goes about her meaningless existence, unable to escape, she has to endure the sounds which come out of her ass, which disgusts her to end.  Alex had secretly been working on more additions to his designs, and using #002 as the prototype she is now capable of hearing her world as it flows around her.  As her processed liquidy diet streams out of her rear, dripping from her ‘lower mouth’ she hears the bip between the squishy gurgle of her own revolting ejection.

 

--

 

At first the pitiful object-woman thought they were mistakes, they started out with meaningless shots of sky, but, over time #002 has come to fear the inserted frames that accompany the bips.  She watches them, having absolutely no choice, and nothing else to do anyway, anticipating the only clear and sharp sound of the ‘bip,’ mesmerized by it, destroyed by what comes immediately after.

 

They are scenes from her life from before.

 

The current one shows the moment when she stood in the hallway of the corporation she acted as an executive for in her previous life.  Three ‘Men in Grey Flannel Suits’ run up behind her, chloroform her while she is engrossed in the Stevens account and seal her into a modified body bag, quickly and businesslike.  These scenes still bring fresh tears to the eyes of the modified young woman.  These tears are then sensed by the lenses she wears and fed back in to the young unit’s hopper.  Her only escape now is through old age, and she has many, many years of service left in her due to the benefits of some of Alex’s new innovations.

 

 

Chapter 4, sanitary precautions

 

After the original Tammy (#001) had died from infection, such a pity too, he had loved how she had been his baby, his original success, Alex ordered up a batch of specialty antibiotics from the Doctor which could be dispensed in cake form.  As with any toilet the need for sanitation is imperative so Alex makes sure to change each urinal cake when it erodes.

 

--

 

The best part about the cakes was watching them dissolve, Alex had to agree.  One month you were putting a fresh on in, watching it dissolve into the dumb little head that held it, and the next month you got to put a fresh one in.  He loved seeing the bubblegum pink urinal cake peeking up at him, watching the unit salivate (Alex was still working on a ‘flush’ mechanism that would cause stored saliva to flow all down at once after a man had finished his interaction with the thing and wanted a sparkling clean orifice looking up at him to before it touched him again to cleanse his rear) and then see bits of the cake floating around in a pool of throat drool, watching it dissolve and swirl around the ‘bowl’ of the vagina (cresting around the throat) and then down the gullet into the stomach to rest, releasing nutrients and antibodies to keep the unit tidy.

 

The cake is placed, (wearing gloves of course, to escape the taint of that foul place inside a woman’s head, and in case any lady decides to disobey his direct orders and ‘cop a feel’ by gumming his hand or forearm, inside of the young woman’s mouth, inserted into a special holding area near the lower rear of the facial appendage (the woman’s main feature.).

 

Normally the woman’s mouth (or vagina) would contain a tongue, but that unnecessary muscle had been removed by the Doctor at the same time he had sculpted the flesh around the area into a ‘pocket’ using his world-renowned surgical skills.  From #002 on, each unit came with a ‘sanitation station’ which kept the unit’s vagina clean and free of germs while also providing the rest of the unit with antibiotics and additional nutrients to keep it healthy and glowing.

 

--

 

This innovation was of course elegantly designed in that it allowed the girl no ability to dislodge the cake or to use it for stimulus (the new Vaginal Nerve Design skipped that area [and incidentally added much more pleasure sensitivity in the outer lips of the vagina (for when the man sat down a woman paid attention)] and also refined the specific areas where the nerves were positioned to eliminate once and for all (in incorporation with the unit’s lid and casing) the possibility of any vaginal stimulus when an external input was not present.)

 

Alex had angrily redrawn his plans when, going about his business as usual with Tammy, cleaning his nails and putting the gunk from them into her vagina after getting up and cleaned he noticed that it [Tammy] was engaging in a sort of sordid and vile behavior. It was pleasuring itself by means of a (later labeled anomalous) node of nerves Alex had not given much attention to.  The upshot of it was that this unit didn’t function at optimal efficiency!

 

This was blasphemy in his household and he quickly drug her compromised form over to his friend Doctor Spencer’s in the dead of night in a bag for fear that word of his failed design would get out (for rumors of his extreme lifestyle had leaked out already and the general consensus around town was one of apathy to the plight of the women and one of ‘Well, so long as its behind closed doors, between a consenting man and the possessions that are in his name. . .’

 

--

 

Indeed the very next day led to a four-hour marathon with Tammy which Alex prepared for before hand by bringing all manner of foods with him into their ‘private little chapel’ so that he could re-christen his design and ‘preserve her virtue’ through the reteaching of properly womanly behavior (a woman is not seen and not heard, it does not touch itself, it waits for a man to come near before acknowledging that it exists.)

 

 It was during this time that Tammy’s vagina took such a beating from the various stages of digestion of Alex’s many droppings into her that some of the harder food (over time) wore down the soft, pliable skin of her uterine walls (the insides of her mouth and cheeks) and eventually caused the ministrations to go from pleasurable to irritating, to painful, to sharply painful, to bleeding, and it was only a few days later that Alex brought his first successful design to the greenhouse for recycling; later that same, sad day he went to the Doctor for the sanitary supplements.

 

 

It should be noted at this point that after the sanitary supplements were added Alex was able to engage in more sadistic feeding of his maidens.  Having a bustling household it should also be noted that Alex is the only one who has access to the waste processing units (the reduced maidens) which he keeps hidden about his house.  The maids have access only to the small, separate area where the clipboards are kept (so they can touch the clipboards but not the young reduced ladies before them.  They can see the waste units but know better than to try to communicate with or mention them to anyone or anything else around the house (for fear of ending up similarly.)  The existence of the beautifully helpless processors is a closely-kept secret in Alex’s home.  He has been waiting to share it with more of his friends as he accumulates more favor and influence around town.

 

The units each remain separate from the maid’s ability to interact with them (to stop any of them from naughtily giving a girl surreptitious pleasure.  In addition it is Alex only who can unlock and empty the containers beneath the girls which they piss, shit, and vomit into.  He makes sure to empty them only when he feels a girl needs to be rewarded (which is seldom) to relieve some of the horror from the feedback in the smell of her environment and the proximity to it as it reaches higher, but there is an overflow setting (much life the holes at the top of a sink) to allow reflow out into the public sewer when it needs to be.  (This guards against accidental suffocation as well.)

 

That being said the punishment waste collection system is the only one which feeds back up into itself (as a fountain soda machine repours the liquid up to the top before it cascades down again.  Now here, Alex was prone to creativity.  While of course it also had a reflow system (just in case, and to also prevent accidental suffocation) it was the only system in the house through which Alex could introduce foreign elements without having to directly interact with the female unit in question.  It gave him joy to deposit the various insects (silverfish and mosquitoes being some of his favorites) and other assorted nasty goodies, as well as leftover food his other pets (all at one point in time human) leave behind (such as dog/cat food or foul tasting liquids.  One of his favorite additions into the mix is a laxative and high-fiber mixed ‘shake’ which he also pours down the throats of some of his other beauties around the house form time to time.)  Of course this is also where the Doctor’s pink antibiotics came in handy as well, a cake not being convenient for this confined unit, so the stuff was pumped into the trough, begrudgingly, but only after the Doctor assured him that it had an unpleasant chalky taste with hints of cod liver oil in it.)

 

--

 

It also gave him the great pleasure of being able to introduce the waste of other women in the house to one of his units without having to reveal the location or existence of any to his subjects.  After giving a girl an enema, or relieving a Dollie of her nappy, he would sometimes cart the feces off for ‘recycling’ into #002’s food container.  He makes sure to speak into the microphone (which now feeds sound to her lower area, so it can be heard over the constant flowing sounds which #002 is treated to on a constant basis which splash by her hearing center every day and allow her a more accurate ‘view’ of her surroundings.)   When he speaks into the mic he is careful to speak clearly and describe for her in painstaking detail (“This is fresh, two hour old, slightly green-colored and incredibly foul smelling solid waste from the ass of Licia, the nappy-wearing Dollie who I fed strained peas and spinach to today.  I’m afraid that she still has that case of (and #002 suspects, chronic, and Alex-induced) diarrhea so you’re going to have to ‘grin and swallow this one’” he says, grinning himself as he beging pouring it into her waste trough, knocking loudly on the side to ‘ask for permission to enter’ telling her that something is coming in, (and that like it or not it would soon be making its way into her mouth when the re-feeder got around to it.  He then finished pouring the contents into her churning supply of semi-liquid feed and then turned to see what other goodies he may have brought.)  He did not neglect the other units in the house while he was at it, however, sometimes paying them surprise visits to give them some disgusting tidbit or slop, as well as to get their hopes up that his ass might visit their face before closing the storage behind him and locking their existence away.

 

 

            Subchapter:  An undated, typical encounter

After putting a fresh new urinal cake in (and having to wallow in the disgusting filth of the foul-smelling open shit-eating vagina to insert it, Alex usually compensates having to endure this disgusting chore by delighting in giving his freshly serviced nubile young shit-slurper its first meal, luxuriating in all the disgusting things that he could force into it while confident that the cake would keep her healthy and bacteria free:

 

“Time for your cake, you disgusting little waste slurper, open up, keep it wide, that’s good.  Now no fondling!  I want to see those lips kept a good distance from my hand hear me?  Otherwise… ok, ok, good, very good.”  He patted her on the head.  “Now here you go, eat this,” he smiled as her eyes widened in horror at the approaching cockroach Alex held, still wriggling lively, in his gloved hand.

 

Alex grinned as the throat gurgling, such sweet music, wafted up to him and he closed his eyes, savoring its sweet sound “Gurk, guk, guu-rrk” the girl tried to scream in horror as the wiggling long-antenae creature was held near her mouth ( which was now closed as far as it would go in abject horror at the request.)  Alex released the creature, its body alighting onto the struggling shivering, horrified lips of the waste processor below it.  The cockroach, smelling the attractive accumulation of small amounts of trace leftover (and nutritious) human waste from down below (inside the girl’s head) scurried down into the unwilling woman’s vaginal folds, pausing for a moment to clean its antennae before venturing further into her mouth and  disappearing from Alex’s view.  “Eat it or I’ll take you down below, you stupid shit-faced slug” he threatened.  (They all knew that this did not mean that he would fuck them from behind, oh if only, to be a real woman again. . .) 

 

She began to work her throat muscles and inner mouth muscles to guide the revolting insect further into her disgusted mouth, the thing crawling around in side her deformed face, searching for food.  She had to fight with it, it sensed that this place was not safe and wiggled and crawled back up towards the escape of the entrance to her mouth, she looked pleadingly up at Alex as she half-heartedly fought with the thing to get it further down “Eat it little shitworm or I’m coming back and putting you in to replace #002.”  Alex smiled showing teeth to the little vermin beneath him (both of them, for the cockroach was popping its way up onto the outside of the units’ lips.

 

Not wanting to but fearing the ‘breaking ground’ even more, as the waste units thought of the punishment hole, she gulped the insidious and struggling large bug back into her mouth, feeling distinctly its wiggling legs and antennae as she guided it carefully towards the back of her throat.  “Good girl, now make it all gone, see it wriggles so prettily down your stupid little face.  Now do nummies, show Daddy how much you like it, smile for me and show me, open your hole and show me nummies.”  The horrified girl opened her mouth wide and showed Alex the wriggling cockroach sliding down her throat, disappearing slowly, showing him ‘nummies’ as she forced a smile onto her face, the life draining out of her eyes as the wicked thing wriggled down her lower throat and then into her stomach.  “I can see it so pretty, going right down that nice throat of yours, such a good girl, don’t try to hide from me, I can see you enjoy it when you swallow.”

 

In fact the girl had been so distracted by the horror that she had forgotten to ‘remember’ that she should have liked the swallowing, that was strange, she thought, where had the feeling in her uvulatic clit gone (taken away by many visits to the good Doctor, of course, but the girl chalked it up to the horror of the roach and searched for the residual pleasure, seeking to cling onto something to take her mind off the squirming in her belly.

 

“See its sitting nicely in your tummy now, just like it should inside a goo-oood girl.  All gone?”  The girl nodded.  “That’s a goo-oood girl, now, eat this,” Alex said, his eyes lighting up with delight as he pulled another live and wriggling cockroach out of his bag nearby, his countenance and tone of speech communicating to the young suffering waste unit in front of him that they were back where they had started, that the first bug had not counted.  The girl groaned, knowing that her earlier refusal had made that eat not count.

“Who’s going to be my good girl?” Alex said, smiling playfully down at her as she opened her mouse resignedly.  “Oh no, my girl’s not hungry?  Well I have a place for naughty little ones” Alex said, teasing the wretched thing in front of him.  “I guess if it doesn’t wants it, it can go down belows…” Alex said in mock horror, dangling the wriggling creature just out of reach of the girl’s now questing lips.  “Come on, come on girl, if it wants it it can haves its” Alex delighted in his torment of the helpless waste object in front of him, coaxing it to ‘beg’ with its facial expressions and to ‘wag its tail’ by making ‘ruh huh huh’ (as much like ‘woof’ ‘woof’ ‘woof’ as its comprompised vocal capacities would allow) sounds out of its foul smelling vagina.

 

“Eww, ok you can have  it, right were it belongs, in the trash,” Alex said holding his nose with one hand and dropping the live cockroach down into the girl’s mouth.  “Now show me nummies,” He said and the girl grimaced before obeying, sliding the thing down her throat, puking into her container down below (the smell of her dry heaves coming back up through her ‘nose’)  The feel of it sliding down into her stomach made her skin crawl, as it plunked down to join the first.  She wished she had puked the first roach out but all she could manage, with little recent food being given her was a dry heave, which was not sufficient to dislodge the struggling critter from her abdomen’s holding chamber.

 

“That’s a good girl, yes she is, its such a good girl, yes it is.”  Alex patronized her, stroking her head with his hand while he got his bag and stood up. “ I’m going to go now, but before I do I sure need to take a shit.”  The girl perked up immediately, desperate for contact on her lips, needing to feel the comfort of the only form of pleasure apparently still afforded her.  “Oh look, it’s a waste unit!  Ooooh, but its all icky from eating bugs, well, I guess I’ll go find another one, I don’t think I want to use you until you get all clean again, but I’ll be back to give you your new cake in a month, so you should be clean by then, enjoy your food.” Alex said playfully, smiling down horridly at the severely distressed and on the verge of tears girl beneath him.

 

Alex would have liked to have stayed and played some more but having things to do he ended his fun briskly and turned and left.  Closing the door on the girl Alex locked it securely behind him.  Alone in the dark the young girl cried, thinking about how things had been only two short years before, in Alabama, with her family, she had high hopes for college, having moved out West to attend, before getting drunk one night at a frat party, being led astray by some guy she didn’t even know and then waking up here about a year and a half ago, in this house, in the ‘breaking chamber’ she shuddered again involuntarily at the memories, her first throatful of shit still vivid in her memory.  Here she was now though, with only the two wriggling insects in her stomach to keep her company.  The broken girlthing cried harder as her food headed towards her digestive tract, trying to remember what her name had been.  Veronica, Ashley?  I’ll remember it some day, just need to keep thinking. . .

 

As horrible as this scenario had been for the girl, to have to devour these live treats for the amusement of Mr. Streuth, this was actually a ‘kinder’ side of the man that she had been shown (sometimes it wasn’t so bad, sometimes it was something easy and similar to ‘regular’ food, like fresh dog droppings, harvested by one of Alex’s roving armless ‘scoop’ maids who busied themselves in search of disgusting things about the nearby outside to take back in and store in Alex’s ‘treat’ fridge.)

 

This side of Alex was much more pleasant to experience than his other side, which promised one thing and led to others . . .  there is very little disobedience in the Streuth household, and most of that that does exist is fostered by Mr. Streuth to provide the opportunity to exact punishment on the incorrigible female.

 

 

Chapter 6, #044 and #063 went up the hill to . . .  (fetch a pail for master)

 

The little brain of #063 had been wrong, her painfully practiced throatswallowing code, while endearing in its groveling obeisance to the absolute dominion Streuth enjoyed over all of his subjects, had conveyed no meaning and had not been deciphered by anyone.  Alex never realized that the girl had been working so hard to express her devotion to him through morse code, and was convinced that he had ‘promoted’ her for her painstakingly developed swallowing technique.  (If he had he probably would have thought ‘That’s adorable’ just before shitting down its throat.)

 

The truth of the matter is that Alex just wanted that fresh young cunny under his ass.  She wondered whether he had shared her idea for coded throatswallowing to that despicable #044 (Oh how she hated that girl, who did she think she was, moving in on her man?)   

 

It would be so cruel for Alex to have done that to her, he couldn’t have betrayed her like that, it was her trick, she had taught it to herself, she had spent many months perfecting it, (having started out trying to gulp out morse to form a haiku she had written for him (in her cute little bimbo best)):

 

“Alex above me

Ass so fine, touch vagina,

use me long time.”

 

.  While she had managed it, chokingly, once, it was too long and awkward to be understood.  Finally she had settled on the simple and sweet ‘I luv u’ in combination with her sycophantic sucking and doey-eyes looks.)

 

--

 

#044 nursed a deep hatred for the haiku-writer, #063, that young ‘star’ that had swept in and snatched up the coveted Master bedroom unit standing, had taken her position as head unit in the house.  Oh how she had enjoyed being able to reciprocate her pain and suffering back down with harsh pushes into the unwilling gullet of the unit beneath her which she had been on top of in the Master bedroom (as indeed #002 had bucked with her neck every time they had ‘interacted’.)

 

 She was the one who deserved Alex’s attentions, Her, #044, not that sniveling insipid young #063 (whom she had never actually met, but in her mind the new favorite was young, attractive, and tight, much younger than #044’s ‘old’ form of 24 years.  She didn’t dare to think that Alex had moved on from her, how, now, she had only been on top for a few days, no, it had to have been a mistake.

 

She glowered at the clipboard, squinting her eyes in hatred at #063, reading ‘Top Position 1021 points #063’ ‘5th position 589 points #044’ [what, you  thought maybe Alex actually gave them all the same information?] (In fact #063 didn’t know that it was #044 she had just deposed from the top position, as her clipboard data showed things in a different light.)

 

--

 

Over and over she read the clipboard, her hatred growing inside her, expanding, all of her rage and frustration (which should have rightfully been directed at Alex, instead shifting to rest firmly on #063’s truncated shoulders, she was the one, #063, who should be in the doghouse right now, not #044.  Oh it was all #063’s fault, before she had come along #044 had almost gotten her life back, had almost gotten into the top position (for more than a few days), had almost (and this was totally her own imagination) gotten Alex to fall in love with her and marry her, she knew he loved her.

 

So many secret meetings they had shared, all of those late-night rendezvous between secret lovers, sure, he never talked to her, and she tried her best, but their eys spoke volumes.  When we walked in, or staggered in to her little love-nest late at night, his eyes glazed from drink and his breath smelling of alcohol and he plopped heavily right down onto her she was in cloud fucking nine oooooh baby, she moaned in her thoughts, that’s it, ride me, oh yes, harder, harder, she would scream in her head as Alex would buck up and down on top of her, trying to gain his footing in the dark, having forgotten to turn the lights on in his inebriated state.

 

As he unthinkingly (literally) rocked the world of his human toilet below, causing it to come to think of his as hers and hers alone.  The man who would help her escape from all this, and take her out into the wide world where she and he could be together, away from that horrid #063.

 

--

No, it wasn’t fair at all; it was #044 who had worked so hard to garner favor after that, slowly climbing in the ranks from her starting position as the ‘bottom-hole’ girl until finally she had reached right up to the number two unit in the house, serving in the drawing room where Alex spent much of his time.  She was positioned amidst the drafting tables therewith the design plans and was eager to serve Alex while he was in the house and working, not liking to be disturbed by having to leave the room or disrupt his train of thought.  And then, finally, just a few days ago, she had been promoted to the coveted Master bedroom position.

If she had been able to see Alex’s drawing board she would have seen his plans completed for his work on a ‘dual occupancy waste space’ while he made jokes in the margins:  #063, all for me, #044, out the door.  (That was about the size of the decision making process.  In fact he thought that it was getting to be too much, now that he was actually remembering their designations, and he would perhaps soon need to start having their numbers changed once every few months to help him not be able to tell them apart.  But that could wait until he upramped production of the units, until after the next phase of the plan was completed.

 

--

 

The meticulously prepared clipboard was very clear about it though, scant days after #044’s hard work had paid off,  all of that primping the inside of her sexface by gurgling her acrid pink urinal-cake salivate around in her mouth to clean it for Streuth, and making gurgling ‘ahhhh’ sounds (like a patient does for a Doctor’s tongue depressor) in Alex’s direction, she had been demoted scant days after she had secured the top position.  (It was so hard to keep track of time around here though.)

 

Still, despite her demotion she knew that Alex and her shared a special bond and that that young hussy #063, oh how that hated name, sixty-three, peered back at her from the clipboard that consumed her thoughts, she was slowly gaining through the ranks again though.  She would have her revenge when (in her fantasies Alex realizes that she is the better receptacle and makes #063 her bitch.)

 

She has been making doe-eyes up at Alex whenever he strays into the basement to check on the other utility units (regular heater and A/C units) as she was lucky enough to have been demoted to this position, which Alex had dubbed, ‘The Doghouse’ for its unique ‘window’ which, as she saw it, gave her an edge over her competitors.

 

--

 

‘The Doghouse’ allowed her a more forward angle and a better opportunity for enticement.  (After the development of the sanitation cakes had allowed him more voyeuristic license, making the lid-cover optional (and since no one else ever came down here) Alex had prepared this specialty station for units he knew were eager to try to please him to gain standing.  After all, what’s the point of having an eager-to-please unit if it loses its cock-throbbingly good manners once it reaches the top?  #044 didn’t know it but her brief stay at the top had been just a ‘taste’ to whet her appetite.  While Alex enjoyed her desperate longing to please him, to gain favor, how would her ambition to succeed serve him if he allowed her to have what she longed for?  Oh he knew that she wanted to be at the top, ‘his girl’ as the waste units liked to think of the spot, but all Alex cared about was eager faces and sycophantic swallowing.  He started to ‘fake’ trips down to the basement (to check on the thermostat etc. so that he could ignore the eager #044 or tease it with the hope of having the opportunity to prove herself again.))

 

#044 is currently installed at a 45degree angle, making it somewhat impossible for Alex to use her normally, which is why she was positioned at the bottom of a short, open chute.  This did two things, first it allowed her more interaction with her surroundings, she could monitor the area and see Alex when he entered, breaking into as disgustingly a series of sycophantic behavior as she could manage in her reduced bodyform, and two, it made it so that she did not feel any pleasure from her lips when Alex’s ‘love’ came steaming down towards her open vagina, since the chute above her funneled into her form in a manner exact to the one stationed in the punishment prison in the Master bedroom.

 

 

Chapter 7, an insatiable hunger (the waste race)

 

Every waste unit develops an extraordinary longing for the contact of a man’s ass atop its face.  Its only natural, as the pleasure it receives from such pleasure is second only to that of swallowing.  Most girls who are kept for long periods of time agree that the contact of lips on ass is the most heavenly experience any of them could ever experience in their current heavily-modified utilitarian forms.  The sensation of making suction with a man’s ass (thus securing their face for a man’s deposit) is almost on par with a sustained throat swallow, the counter-argument is made.  The debate over this, if any of the waste units were actually allowed the absurd notion of communication, is actually quite heated.

But the longing for a man’s ass is such for a waste unit, which receives so little contact with anything or anyone, and mostly just waits for the next time Alex pops in to press his ass against their vaginas that they fantasize:

 

Oh the fantasies some of them have, about Alex coming in unexpectedly, a dashingly handsome man, and in these fantasies the units are full bodied.  They would stoop to their knees, beckoning with their fingers, oh such a forgotten gesture, to have fingers, opening their mouths invitingly and then bending their necks backwards so that, saying ‘ahhhh’ for Alex, welcoming his lovely ass to come hither and perch upon them (and here a lot of them would get flustered in real life while in their fantasies their imagined selves batted their pretty long eyelashes coquettishly and pleaded for him to sit down on their mouths, just so they could feel it, just for a moment, just a little, and then to be able to, to swallow, to swallow that idealized long, soft, snaking, soft and easy-to-manage gift from Alex that would tickle them just where they needed it most oh that, that is just what, ohhhh . . .  and then in frustration the girl would snap back to reality and feel a throbbing in her uvulaticlit, her need unfulfilled, sobbing or pouting in frustration, waiting in the dark until Alex made his next call.

 

--

 

All she could do was ‘grin and swallow it’, as the saying goes, taking pleasure from each visit as much as they could (although from time to time Alex would have them taken to the Doctor’s while unconscious and reduce the feeling in their clit and tunnel, leaving just the outer lip nerves untouched) as over time he got them conditioned to look forward to less and less reward until eventually all they craved was that contact with his rear, and the imagined pleasure that they ‘knew’ still happened when they swallowed.

 

( In fact #002 had long since had her inside nerves reduced to the point where all she felt was a dull impact as the continuous stream of piss and shit pervaded her all day.)

 

Instead, the similarly stationed #044, peering up a long chute which would direct deposits neatly into her vagina, bypassing her pleasure centers in her outer lips, cravenly groveled with her open vagina, beckoning Alex over to ‘fill her up’, to shit down her trough so that she could hope to earn some favor with him.  The feeling in her inside mouth had long ago deadened during the months of servitude she had spent trying to work her way up long and hard the household ladder, enduring ignorantly the invasion of the good Doctor’s subtractive work until she had just minimal sensation anywhere but in her outer lips.

 

--

 

She knew whether she had performed well or not as soon as that damned slow notetaker (Hurry up, hurry up I need to see if I gained any points or not!) brought the clipboard update.  It was indeed one slow (hobbled) armless maid’s duty to follow Alex around all day and write down the things he said, no matter how trivial, whilst he was in the house and not entertaining company.

 

The notes were taken with a pen that hung out of her mouth.  She dutifully lowered her head to the notepad secured on a tray strapped to her shoulders and resting on her bountiful tits.  Careful not to press too hard lest she overbalance her topheavy body and fall forward, she ardently transcribed every smallest thing Alex said, whether it was a new design idea or a snort or yawn.  She then, after a full page, would swap places with another maid done up exactly the same (it was Alex’s desire to not know the difference, so that they appeared, even to him, as one unit) while she, the first maid, took it for transcription in the daily log and for any orders or memos to be acted upon by central processing.  Another maid was then dispatched to get the updated figures back to each of the hidden waste processors in the house.

 

 

Days might go by when a waste unit would perk up in expectance of Alex’s rear communion only to be disappointed by a bimbo in a French maid outfit to come in instead to tell her (via the updated sheet, of course) how much she was slipping and whether she would be, shudder, downgraded soon.

 

Indeed, it was actually better that none of the bimbos who took the notes, worked in central processing, or carried the updated sheets could talk, and that each one had a simple mind courtesy of Herr Spencer as if they could talk to the young waste units they might have let them know that the performance ratings, as any dummy could read in the fine print posted in central processing on the sheet ‘Rules and regulations regarding the upkeep and deportment of household waste facilities’ were for entertainment value only (Alex’s) and that the position of any of the young ladies in question was almost entirely arbitrary and assigned by a simple computer program Alex had written in about 2 minutes time to manage it.

 

--

 

Indeed, any day at home for Alex involves the execution of elegant designs, but none so silently conducted as the cruel drama between the hidden waste units locked in mortal competition amongst their hated brethren, scattered in solitary isolation throughout the unnoticed parts of Mr. Streuth’s wonderful, and ever-changing house.

 

 

Chapter 8, the bickering of young girls

 

Even for Cherish the lot in life of a Streuthian waste unit is abhorrent, substandard to the (socially considered normal, most of the time) treatment met out to the rest of the women in town.  As the whispers made their way about during times of gossip some of the men even started threatening their bimbos with ‘Now be a good girl and make cock suckie, even though you still foster those idiot ideals about female equality.  If you don’t behave I’ll take you over to Alex’s house.’  This happened a few times, much to Alex’s delight, as he relished having a new unit to try out (“The old ones, they get complacent over time and it just doesn’t feel as good as something new under you.”)

 

After time however the women learned their lessons and in turn, the ones who had learned through watching what went on about the Streuth household, shushed the new girls when they became mouthy or thought too much:  “Shush child, you know not what you say, mind your manners and remember your place.  When you speak, do so only to answer a man’s question and make sure to hold your mouth open invitingly, to do not so would be rude and would invite disaster.  If a man is kind enough to place his member in your mouth do not be rude and start sucking immediately, for that is selfish, show the man his due by answering the question he deigned to ask you in the first place.  In time you will become more adept at talking lwike thwish.”

 

 

 

Alex is working on counterbalancing the unit’s ‘top-centered’ focus on its sight, hearing, taste and feel (so imbalancing to the design, Alex bemoans) that he has already successfully had a prototype surgery successfully completed by Dr. Spencer (#002) that moved the unit’s hearing to its rear, so that soon they will all be able to better relate to their functions and focus better on their processing (as well as hearing the sounds that accompany it) with fewer distractions.

 

Once that is complete he will work on another implementation which may lead to two units finally having the opportunity to debate over which pleasure is greater, the feeling of ass on the outer lips, or that of swallowing the man’s load, if two of them were to debate the matter it would go something like this:

 

#044: “I love swallowing, it feels so great, I wish Alex would shit into my mouth nonstop for an hour I would just would cum and cum”

#063 would reply “Like no way, I’m like, so totally into Alex’s super ass, I just love how great it feels on my pretty coose lips, and he’s like so into me because of my perfect valley in my face, he told me so, I’m his ‘precious little valley girl’”

#044:  In indignation at the other’s claim “Valley girl, yeah right, you, like gag me with a cock”

#063: “As if, I know Alex is going to fuck me with that hard tool of his soon, and he only shits into you”

Then #063 would comeback “Yeah, well at least my hole’s prettier than yours” and then the two would fall into the violent squawking over insignificant things as women are prone to do when no man is about to control them.

 

--

 

Interestingly enough, the next day, a similar little exchange was allowed to occur, they had had their new voices installed under the careful ministrations of Dr. Spencer, and aside from their vocal range increasing to be more nasally and higher pitched (increasingly whiny and irritating to listen to) they worked fine. Of course, in keeping with his design, both of the units’ voices eminated spittily from their asses, spewing forth gobs of dripping rear spittle everywhere as they talked.  In fact it was rather gross, Alex admitted, but also amusing, if you kept your distance, although the noise they made (their speech and slobbering) became a nuisance after awhile.

 

Right before the two were able to talk for the first time though, Alex made sure they were introduced properly to one another.  They were both lying on the tables, firmly secured, with their eyes covered with white hospital wraps.

 

While they couldn’t see, they could hear their own throaty breathing out of their rear channels, smell the shit on their rear mouth breaths, and taste, ugh, (yes, Dr. Spencer had upgrade each girl so that he now had taste buds in both her cunt mouth as before, and her rear mouth, a textbook graft.)

 

Alex began, not wanting to alert them to their new ability yet:  “Oh, girls, I just want you to both know that I love you very much, and that you’ve both been cherished deeply by me, as you know I do not have a wife ‘All of the following, of course being a complete lie’ and have been trying to decide which one of you two to choose as my companion.

 

“I knew it!” #063 sputtered out of her rear mouth, surprised at her own voice.

 

“Now now, ladies, please,” and he sped up before they started talking further, “I need to know which one of you two is better for me.  And in order to help you two to persuade me I have generously gifted you with these brand new voices,” here it comes, at the finish line, hurrying, “so in order to get things started let me just say #063 meet #044, and #044, meet #063.” he finished, quickly stepping back to watch the spittle fly.

 

They were now able to talk for the first time since their lives as waste units had began (ironically born right here in this room [Doc Spencer kept their ‘birth dates’ written down in his records.]  And the two waste units in front of Alex spent their first seconds of this new ability going right at each other back and forth right out in the open,  a complete show, replete with flying feces and vulgar obscenities.

 

--

 

After listening with some amusement Alex finally settled things by sticking his (gloved) fingers up both of their asses so that their cries became muffled and they suffocated until they were both submissive again.  “Now now,” he said, “Only one of you is going to be my favorite, and I need one of you two to join me for the next part of my life.”

 

Alex promises them:  “Someday soon if you are good I will take you out into public and let you behave as a proper lady, but only ONE of you, whichever one of you is the better one, more dutiful and pleasing to me.  I may be testing you in the near future to help determine who the better candidate is. If you continue to please me as you now do I am sure I will soon know who I want to be with me.”  He releases their voices so that they can breathe, but immediately they both start in:

 

“Oh please please I so want to please you, I’ll make the better one,” they cry out hoping that maybe they will be able to live out their fantasies of being ‘Alex’s girl’ with full bodies and everything if only they can just convince Alex that they are the right girl for him.

 

They both look up at him beseechingly as he sticks a finger back into their holes, silencing them, as they, determined to be the first to get a voice and convince him of their worth, with their eyes peering up from their reduced forms, their rotund vaginas seductively pleading, puckering up invitingly, their eyelashes batting, do their very best to suck up to him.  Their assmouths clench and unclench around his finger in their best imitations at groveling.

 

 

Chapter 8, Initial Public Offerings

 

They would do anything to be able to finally tell Alex what a conniving bitch the other is, and make sure that he doesn’t listen to any of her lies, while reporting all of the other’s failings dutifully.

 

To ‘test them’ Alex has decreed that they share a waste space until one of the two has proven herself the better one.  He says with great gravity to the two of them as they are installed:  “You will share a waste space together and when I stop by you may try to convince me of your worth.  If I am not sure I may need to test you further, and this testing may take many forms so that I will be guaranteed of getting the true choice, remember, as I test you, that I am constantly listening and on the lookout for any indication that proves to me absolutely which one of you is right for me.,” as he thinks silently, ‘You two can talk out of your puckered mouths all day long while the true meaning of your words dribbles out liquidly between, blending with that incessant diarrheic speech you women alone are capable of.  You’ll never be anything more than worthless waste receptacles to me.’

 

--

 

Not that Alex would hear anything they say after they are installed and pleading anyway, giving their best reasons for why he should pick her.  No, high up on his perch above, resting peacefully on one’s face while the two girls down below share a world of nagging and bickering amidst the dribbling and dripping coming from out of their ‘real mouths’ he would hear blissful silence.

 

Yes, asses-belching; spending all day yelling at the other (as miserable as their existences are they would never think to try to cheer the other up, to offer a compliment or a sympathetic ear) and spending all of their time thinking up new things to yell loudly up at their wonderful Alex, trying to undercut the other and undermine the other’s standing so that in the end he would hear all of the dutiful reporting they had done and properly rescue the correct one, me, Alex, pick me, they both wished, take me with you, to that place they each her fantasized about . . .  oh Alex. . .

 

--

 

That day was never going to come, of course, and since neither had any real sense of time, their senses relegated only to the timeless processes that surrounded them and pervaded them, the digestion of, sound, smell, and taste of the shit, piss, and vomit that passed relentlessly past and between their true, lower mouths.  The unavoidable occasional puke that each had rationalized over time that just, ‘came with being a woman,’ both of them kept hope that anytime now they would be the one Alex would choose.

 

--

 

A different day had finally come though, a festive one in Alex’s home, as he had invited a small crowd of his closest, most trusted friends for the unveiling of the first public offering and display of his two ‘newest models’ as he described them and their functions to the eager crowd of leering men who had just dined on a sumptuous dinner in the banquet hall and who now congregated around him, peering with evil intent at the vision of loveliness in front of them:

 

The two ignorant women being gawked at and talked about had been put on public display in Alex’s home.  Many of the guests whispering ‘so it is true’ to one another. The two damsels had had their eyes covered in fetching tight leather ‘bonnets’ that also made their face-seat more comfortable for whoever was going to sit on them.

 

Pretty pink latex bows adorned their beautifully overly made-up faces for the reception, having been told that Alex wanted to see which one was prettier and more eager to please him, they hungrily awaited his decision; waiting for her bow to be removed which would signal that Alex had chosen her, that he was about to use her, that she was finally going to be validated by her one, her only. . .  his luscious ass was about to contact her awaiting vagina, he had picked her as the better one.

 

In fact the two waste units were about to have loving contact with whoever happened to be first in line when Alex finished the unveiling ceremony and introduced these two ‘very, very available young things’ to the greater community of Cherish.

 

--

 

As Alex had re-christened them, ‘Mitsy and Muffsies’ (not that it matters which is which) he had added, sharing a sparse chuckle with his eager audience.  Alex savored each moment, finally pulling back the curtain to let the first round of guests in at the eager little puppy dog-like playthings which were about to accept and swallow, inviting into their shared  home, a tempestuous amount of raw sewage.

 

Wasn’t it just darling, Alex goaded, here, take this one, so pretty and trusting, ‘she thinks that its just me’ he whispered (not that the two girls could hear anything but each other down below) and winked to his audience who were running with outstretched paws at the two tender young flowers, their rosebud vaginas pouting stunningly up helplessly with their red and pink make-up on, two large hoop earrings dangling from each girl’s useless ears, their heads made-up in pretty bows serving to mark where the using mans’ business end might best squash down.

 

--

 

The dimwitted damsels were unwittingly about to service an entire gaggle of men (and maybe some of the women who had also been dragged along by their owners and who were cowering in fear at the sight of the lewd objects on display) in the majestic living space of Streuth’s home.

 

The two were installed as usual, with their lower regions hidden from public view for hygiene regions, the lovelies’ cute, perfectly made-up (and freshly scrubbed with a toilet brush) ‘virginal’ vaginas showing fresh pink cakes inside.

 

--

 

 

When #043 was first being used she knew it was Alex, and the other said ‘Nuh uh’ and started calling her a liar, her jealousy and hatred growing, just then another man picked that time to try out the lovely mouthseat before him.  He untied the lovely pink bow and guided his ass down into the sweet thing beneath him, letting out a contented sigh as the face below buckled slightly under the much heavier man.

 

Between the two, the squabbling over which one had the real Alex quickly turned to, ‘Oh yeah, well I’m still the better one even if this isn’t Alex, he’s going to pick me next because this guy is going to tell him how hot and beautiful I am, oh I just know its going to be him next!’   Thinking that maybe he was testing them to see which one would disobey first, or wanting to see which one had the prettier (and therefore more popular) shitting-hole the started to keep score.  “I’m up to 15, what about you little miss ‘never washes’”

“Oh yeah, I’m on number 17, and he’s a big one, I’m taking so much of his load Alex is sure to take me.”  After that they both had to stop talking as much as their lower mouths started to fulfill their most important function, and began depositing wastes into the bin below.  “Hey, that smells-bluuuuuuuuuuurrrrpppfff” #063 said.  The two of them had been cleaned and placed into a nice new waste chamber for the reception and had grown to like the ‘clean living.’  They regretted that they had to go back to their old routine, and tried to keep their lower mouths from dirtying the chamber by holding in the output for as long as possible.  “Bbb, mmph, bbb, mpph, bbbbbuuuu, mmm, mmm, mm, m. . . Bbbbbbbbbbulurrrrrrrrrrrrpfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft” went a common exchange. 

 

 

 

However, now that they were getting back to their old routine their rivalries sparked up again quickly, the holding session sparking just a short reprieve from the nagging contest.  This time they just knew that ‘If I try just a little harder to show him how much better I am, and how awful she is he’ll pick me!’  The two would then try to ruin the other dumb bitch’s image by calling her names like potty-hole and potty-mouth, shit-for-brains or ‘lardmouth.’  This last one Alex found extremely amusing, as it was creative, the other ones just seemed descriptive and fitting, he noted.  The two mewling holes tried to outcompete the other in providing pleasure to their users and to cry out to the man above that she was the better of the two, yelling obscenities and spewing forth crap down below as they spoke.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9, modern plumbing

Or , where do we go from here, the words are coming out all weird, where are you now, can you hear me?

 

As soon as the last guests had left for the night Alex finished on completing the last stage of his design.  Glad that public reception to the idea of his new plumbing solution was so positive, if today’s ‘coming out’ party had been any good indication, Alex began sealing the girls into their new home.  They remained in their current installation, as he began adding pieces to the outside.  Neither of the two young beauties noticed anything as their senses were already entombed in their waste chamber down below or covered over up above.

 

Fitting the last of the needed components into the framing, and connecting the hosing, Alex secured the top of the box so that the dual waste chamber was no longer exposed to the outside world.  Sitting down to watch some TV he flicked the switch that would start the re-churning of the hopper of his new machine that the two girls were a part of now.  The ‘re-feeder’ started up quietly, not tipping either of the girls off as to its true nature, the nice little party earlier having gotten its contents off to a ‘fresh’ start.

 

The two girls didn’t know what was going on, but it felt like more men were coming to ‘test’ them, as a slow stream began to creep between their upper maws (eliminating any outer lip pleasure.)  Both young beauties now had the distinct honor of being the first to test out Alex’s theory, that the two dumb, young, gullible twits would not realize that they were in a closed system and would continue to try to ‘outperform’ the other.

 

Much to his amusement his theory proved right.  While no men were actually using them, it was just their own waste being recycled back up to them; the two units competed bitterly with each other for Alex’s assumed affections.  (Alex smirked at the thought that just recently he had taken each unit in (before they had been put into the dual chamber) to see the Doc and he had reduced the sensitivity in all portions of their vaginas, making them practically numb, while increasing again the sensitivity of the units’ and taste glands in both the upper and lower mouths, as well as their olfactory perceptions.

 

The two young bimbos were going to be treated to new heights of sensation (and new lows of pleasure) as their only stimulus became that of the lukewarm sludge which trundled into one orifice, a thoroughly unpleasant experience, and then out the other orifice, again causing retching and choking on the horrid taste and smell.  Soon the pit would fill to capacity with piss and shit and puke from both girls, the re-hopper mixing it in indiscriminately so that the girl’s would be eating from each other after awhile.

 

Alex closed his eyes imagining it, as after a few minutes it had surely already happened, that blessed moment when the input from the hopper has already reached the output stage and the girl is shitting it back out, retching and suffering with the smell and taste, the enclosure offering only stuffiness and concentration of focus on the only substance to ever grace its lips again, while the fresh input from up top continued its inexorable advance, always ready and one step ahead to pore more into the pliant unit below.

Alex smiled as he saw, in his mind, and then, as he turned on the TV to watch the show from inside the box, as both girls vomited simultaneously out of their asses, the slow, unyielding march of excrement beginning its journey out of their rear mouths and down into the hopper.  They were now operating at maximum efficiency for this speed.

 

(Antibiotics and fresh ‘feed’ of course being added to the mix from an outside hose monitored by an an automated system that kept the two vixens ‘fueled.’)

 

  Meanwhile Alex savored the wonderful moments that happened inside his ‘dual fueled’ waste processing unit on personal home video, his cameras inside capturing every vitriolic moment between the two lovely squawk boxes.

“Yep,” he says proudly, his arm resting on the pink plastic cover of the large box inside which the unit is kept, (he started thinking about it in the singular and referring to it as ‘a unit’ within a few weeks) “This baby can do 50 on a good day.”

 

This meant that, on average the two co-opted forms inside of what Alex has termed the ‘Wastemaster 3000’ go through about 50lbs. of raw sewage a day!  (“As long as you keep that antiseptic coming,” Alex is quick to joke, and then add, seriously, “Really I couldn’t have done it without the Doctor, but in my defense, these things don’t grow themselves.”  Here he smiles as though he about to give a punch line, “You have to treat them just right.”

 

Alex smiles broadly, knowing that #063, and #044 have been treated ‘just right,’ with just the right amount of manipulation to get them at each other’s throats, and enough subtlety to keep them in his pocket.  Their bitter competition with one another over his affections ensured that they would try to outdo the other with each passing week with ‘very little additional maintenance required’ he penned in his design notebook.

 

Inside the closed system, the dull-grey computer mounted on the inside in a waterproof housing monitored the status of the girls and if either of them was capable of more intake her trough feed rate was then speeded up to a rate which she could handle.  As each girl accumulated more lbs. of raw sewage processed at the end of the day their scores would be tallied up electronically and then a computer-generated message would say “Numberr, oh, four, four, is, a, head, four, and, two, quarters, Alex , loves, you, two, day, Numberr, oh, four, four.”

 

And that was what each girl lived to hear, that machine confirming at the end of the day that she was loved, that she mattered to Alex, the computer told her so, that she was ahead.  But she would try hard to do so again tomorrow, because she was sure that Alex wanted her to be number one for 42 days straight, and that since she had only been ahead 41 days straight so far, and that had been 3 months ago that she had completed that record, she needed to try harder!  ‘Complete Success’ Alex added in his notebook, ‘of project.”

 

--

 

Two years later the girls are up to an avg. of 80lbs. a day, and it is still increasing!

 

 

 

 

 

 


Epilogue, Justin begins to learn about women

 

At the initial public offering Alex had received orders from many of his guests and had enjoyed himself immensely.  The two young shit receptacles dutifully tried to outdo the other long into the night after having been sealed inside their new habitat.  He congratulated himself on putting woman’s naturally spiteful nature to good use, turning one against the other to aid in the betterment of mankind.

 

However, one thing had bothered him about the event.  He knew that women were just empty receptacles, here on God’s earth to be cherished (although his use of the word here is perhaps a stretch of its definition) by men, to accept man’s use and waste and labor on under the stresses of womanhood as that was their natural place

 

One of the guests at the party, however, a friend named Charles had, in his excitement at the prospect of receiving the invitation, neglected to mention that he was bringing a 10 year old son with him, just arrived in Cherish to begin his education on women.

 

The young boy, Justin, had no experience with the opposite sex and still considered them different and scary.   In order to receive a more conservative education, the boy had been raised at home by his Father in Cherish until he was 6 and for the past four years had been attending a strict and prestigious all boys elementary and thus far, had neglected ‘women studies.’

 

Alex was startled to learn that he had never seen a woman naked before, and when he had made his way to the front of the crowd to see what all the fuss was about the boy ran in fright at the ‘weird things’ which ‘smelled icky’ and ‘looked funny.’  The little boy ran in fright and embarrassment, the young man reminding Alex of himself when he was young:  Weirded out by sex and unsure of himself around the mysterious female species

 

--

 

A solution presented it to Alex that night.  When he had installed the two units into their shared biohabitat properly, Alex had started to review some of the film that was pouring in from live feed inside the closed system.  The cameras were each silent, high resolution, with full zoom and capture, completely waterproof and completely unbeknownst of to the two young ‘startlets’ inside.)

 

He was interested in viewing their exchanges as he thought they might show some insight into female behavior.  He watched some of them that night and found them very entertaining.  He began editing them to show only the moments he thinks are the most precious, or the best depictions of true female behavior.  Wanting to capture the private interactions of their posteriors for posterity, he thinks it will serve as a good learning tool for any young males who wish to ‘plumb the depths and mysteries of womankind’ by being able to ‘go beyond the façade’ and see them in their natural state.

 

--

 

A few day’s later Alex sent a copy of the videos he had made to Charles, asking that he view them and determine whether he thought them appropriate learning material for his son.  Mr. Page, Charles, readily agreed, requesting a live feed be directed to his house as well:  “If its not too much trouble old chap.”

“Why none at all my old chum, glad to oblige,” Alex readily replied.   All of the feeds that Alex would sent to Charles, as well as any edited video, comes solely from obtained from inside the Wastemaster 3000 (or inside the waste containment chamber in the case of the night of the ‘coming out party’ video) and at no time is either #044 or #063 presented on these ‘educational films’ in any other view other one which is available from inside the chamber.

 

--

 

“Daddy, what’s that?” the young, easily shaped male mind of Justin Page asked his Father, pointing up at the screen where two bizarre forms were displayed in crisp high-definition television on Charles’ 62” plasma screen.  The things’ blabbering mouths dripping feces, and carrying on a driveling argument with each other, each word or two interjected by a bowel movement, some odd crap or dribble spewing forth noxiously or ejecting to an interrupting splash as the young women strained to make their points.

 

 

Epilogue 2, girl-talk

 

Both had equally insipid and high-pitched, nasally, whiny and irritating voices, and both mouths bubbled and belched as they spoke, often at the same time, the two occasionally pausing for quick breaths through their mouths breathing quickly, sometimes coughing up brown ‘phlegm’, not wanting to give the other a chance to get a word in, hurriedly returning to its own insipid drivel, convinced that its darling Alex was just waiting for the other to one-up her before he chose the other girl over herself.  Each was dripping puke or dribbly shit out of its beautiful female mouth almost constantly, their speech largely incoherent:
”He’th muh, pffftman bi-bruuh-tch, ‘blurrp, youburmmuuup, drip, drip, blurch’ *ca-cough*, ‘buuurp, ooooze, ooze, plop, plop”

“Gurl youuuurrrrpppffffftt best *wheeze*

“Bitch don’t be tulking ‘bruuuuup, fssshhhh’ my face ‘brrrrfffffft’ way girl, you bussssstttttst oh, oh god, oh god this one’s tnnnnnnn   tnnnnn… tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-ploooooooooooop-iiiiii, oh, oh, plop, plop . . . gnnnnn, flsploooosh . . .ht. . . “

“Ewwww girl what brrrruuuuupp uk-uuuk *cough* been euttting . . .   plllloooop . . .splooosh, sploosh, plop . . . dribble’ . . .

“Nuh uh he’s my man, like you totally just ‘Bluuuuuuurp, fsh, fshhh, bllllllluuuuuu’ just, uh, uh ‘ruuuuuuhhhh, bluh-you-bluh . . . bluuuuu . . .  you totally!  You, bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh, sploosh, dribble, *cough, cough* bitchy little shit, I’m gonna ‘ploooosh, spfffffffffffflt”

“Same as you ‘bluuuhhhhh!  Here that Alex, bluuuuuuhu, blrrrrrrpppffffffff, I just called bllluuuuuuuuuggggghhh, called her a, bruuuuuuuu, I called her that forblublublub for youuurgbhhbbbb Alex!”

“Pick, bluuuuuh, me, pick, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh, oh god, uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhnnnnn, brppppppflibble blibbbbbbbbbbbuppp rmmmbbpppffftttt”

 

And so on, the words eclipsed by the requisite activities the maidens’ mouths primarily were used for, and the babbling, drippy speech was incoherent most of the time..

“That my dear son Justin, come here and sit beside your Father, take a good look at it and see for yourself, is a disgusting, vile creature:  Do you remember, from the party?”

. .   plllllllllllllllpppppofffpppp, shhhhppppfll, plop, plop, bitch, back off, drip….’   I ain’t having ‘retttch, brrrruuuu-bruu-bruuuuu . . . any of, rettttch-chh-ch”

“You see those two there son?  That one there on the left is called a ‘nagus defecatus’ or a woman.  And the one on the right is a variant called an ‘anoisus defecatus’ another type of evil she-devil.”

“splfffffffflibbbble, you fucbbbbbbblllluuuuufuckinnnnnnnnnn-gggggggggg, g, mmmmmmm, you fucking bitch I’ll bluuuuuuuu”

 

“Daddy, what’s a woman?”

“Just sit down, relax and watch Justin, and you’ll learn all about them.”

 

“Blurrrrrrrrrbbbbbbpppppp”

“Ewww, they’re making potty Daddy!”

“No son, they’re just talking, that’s what women do, they talk all day.”

 

“You bitch, fbbbbbblllllllt, fuuuuubbbbllll, its me bbbbbrruuuuuuuuuuuuup”

“Daddy make them stop, that’s so gross.”

“I know son, women are gross, disgusting creatures.  Do you want to know what purpose they serve here on Earth?”

“Yes Daddy they seem so disgusting, worse than pigs and doggies that I have seen.”

 

“Frrrrrbbuuuuut-flibble, drip, drip, cunt, you fuckbruuuuup, I’ll fuckfllllllll . . .”
 “This is why we have to teach them Justin, just watch and think about how you would make them better.  I know its disgusting but I want you to watch anyway, the more you understand a woman by watching these tapes the better prepared you will be to know how to properly tame and rear one.”

The boy sat and watched, engrossed, disgusted yet fascinated by this strange creature he was being introduced to for the first time.

 

 

Epilogue 3, the fairer sex

 

“Oh, oh, its happe-brrrrruuuuuuurrrrrrpppp,” #044 began, “Alex is on me!  This is him for surrrrrrrrrffffblupple.”

The young boy sits forward on his seat as a strange scene plays out before him, (taken from the party.)  He hears the woman breathe raggedly and then strange cries emit from her bubbling mouth, she spews forth copious amounts of wastes and emits loud noisy gasps and cries from her rear in between spitpukes. . .  her breaths are sharp and quick.  He watches agog, observing her cries of ecstasy and observes her most private parts in full high-resolution color.  He makes a face at this disgusting scene, but his Father, ever thorough in his son’s education rewinds the scene to show young Justin her climax again. 

The private moments and individual strains, grunts and sweat drops #044 creates during her private time arrayed and splayed before the young and repulsed, yet fascinated 10 year old boy Justin who watched her ‘features’ emit more fowl brown squishy waste in between ragged orgasmic elicitations.

 

“Now son do you know why this strange creature is making those awful noises?”

“Because,” then inspiration hit him, “she is playing with herself?”  Earlier that day his Father had explained the concept of masturbation to him.

“Very good son, yes, she is playing with herself, do you see how nasty and vile it is for women to engage in?  On their own what do you think these two women would do?”

Fllllbrruuuuu, oh yes, fffffppppppt, dripp-flwoooooosh, plop.

“They seem to always just play with themselves all day on these tapes Daddy.  The only  other things they seem to do are whine like babies, whimper like dogs, complain like nags and spew forth ploppy potty from their faces Daddy . . .  why do we even have women?”

“Well Justin that’s a good question.  Now God never makes mistakes, so we think God put woman here on Earth for man to tame.  Just see for yourself what a woman is, she must be a mistake.  But since God is infallible, that leaves us with this conclusion, it must be because of a fault of man.  Do you follow me son?”

“I, I think so Father.”

“When a girl reaches a certain age, depending on how she is brought up a man she may start to express herself, she will start to talk a lot and nag or become a feminist, and these are both forms of woman.  Do you see the tape son?  Would you want to be around a woman?”

 

The tape continued to show the ass of #044 wriggling around and spewing out her potty, the only view Justin had ever really gotten of women was on these tapes and if his Father said that that was all there was to women he believed him.  From the hours and hours of tapes they had watched (of the party an then from the live feed from Alex’s, he didn’t know any reason why anyone would want to be near a woman, much less any good reason for why they should exist.

 

It must be as his Father said, that they were on Earth so that man might tame and raise them properly, if he were to be a virtuous, God fearing man he would seek to learn these skill and apply them. . . 

 

These thoughts in his young and impressionable mind his Father continued:  “If a man raises a girl properly on the other hand. . .” and then Charles Page smiles kindly and took his son by the arm, walking him over to a photo album.

 

Justin is almost 11 his Father thinks, its time he learned about female companionship.

“Dollies don’t talk son, would you want a female who talks to you?”  Justin’s views on Female speech are taken from the images he had seen up on the screen, and they all seemed quite nasty to him, he wouldn’t want that.

 

“No Daddy, I wouldn’t want a female who talks.  Its disgusting.” Gee, it seemed like unless men kept good watch over their females perfectly good girls could grow up to be as vile and foul-mouthed as the women on the screen.  Even when they weren’t burpling and spewing forth solid and liquid waste their mouths were full of vehement and potty language, and Justin recoiled form that.  His young mind didn’t know what to make of the idea of females.

 

“Not all females turn out this way son,” Mr. Page says, taking book down from the shelf and dusting it off.  Its spine was well-used and had obviously been referenced many times by someone, it was entitled “Stylish Dollies” by Alex Streuth.

 

“This was my primer as a son, Justin,” the Father says glowingly down to his young son, so proud of him at that moment, “Now I want you to have it.  Consider the many differences between a woman and a Dollie.”  Charles motions at the screen with his hand as he mentions women, and down at the book when he mentions Dollies.

 

It is all the young Justin needs to feed his curious budding mind, the hormones just starting his puberty he is slightly aroused by the helpless China Dollies in the first section, smiles at the charming English Dollies with their waspish waists and large rears that Justin finds suddenly not as frightening anymore.  Why, they’re just like little toys, he thinks to himself.

 

Charles allows the boy to consider the differences for himself and to continue his ‘women studies’ in peace while he steps into a nearby room to enjoy some of Alex’s homemade video filth himself, in a more private manner.

 

Justin meanwhile sits on the couch in the living room, reading about Dollies.  #063’s climax plays on the screen, her mouth crying out in ecstasy, elated at having a man sitting on her vagina and roiling in throws of pleasure as his long shit travels down her throat, some earlier processed waste erupting from her own bowels simultaneously.  This film  actually next shows a pan out to the woman’s upper mouth as a man begins sitting on it and shitting into it but Justin was not watching so engrossed in his own book.

 

--

 

The maiden begins to  exclaim in ecstasy again (this noise becoming tiresome to Justin after awhile (although he only hears the action, not looking up from the pretty pictures in the book, and he vows that his Dolly will not play with herself or make botherseome noise.))

 

The cry is cut short when the man on screen evacuates his bowels into her accommodating mouth shutting her up (Justin thinks ‘finally, what a nag’) until she manages a wet cough and again humps up against her user with her neck muscles.

 

 This scene does take place outside of the waste chamber (much to Streuth’s chagrin) which would have given Justin a different, however minute, perspective on what his Father was telling him, but Page the younger was engrossed in the Dollies book and missed the scene where #063’s vibrant upper mouth is shown with a close-up of her smeared lipstick, brown vaginal holes, and soiled pink bow askew on her forehead (having borne the ass of many men a pleasant ride in the last few hours.)

 

“Another mouth Father?”, he might have asked, drawing beads of sweat to his Father’s brow, had Justin not been so engrossed in his book which carefully explained that ‘These are not women, they are Dollies, and during a young age, girl’s can become one of either of these two species.  It is a genetic dysfunction of girl’s that they are capable of becoming disgusting women and should instead be reared as Dollies.’

 

--

 

Alex had written “Stylish Dollies” upon his arrival to Cherish several years ago (when he was frustrated by women and had not yet had any designs implemented to occupy him.)  This book had not been his Father’s primer but rather a book Mr. Page had ‘enjoyed’ often in the past few years.  Alex had not meant the words in the book literally when he wrote them but Mr. Page had since took them to heart and was now espousing this twisted philosophy on his son who was eagerly taking it all in.

 

Justin heard a brief, heated discussion on the phone “Yes, don’t let that slip in again” as Mr. Page reprimanded Streuth for his slop[y editing (Charles having been in the other room watching the same hot video on the TV in comfortable privacy as his son had been. 

 

Mr. Page then got up, composed himself and then went into the living room again to change the tape to one they had watched earlier.  This one featured 2 hours of non-stop ‘girl talk’ between the two women and, Charles was sure, nothing else.

 

Justin, engrossed in the book, a small erection forming subtly in his pants at the site of the helpless and needy Dollies who peered out at him, ‘Each needing a man’s handling to ensure that she does not become a woman” he read, saying it softly out loud (As his Father observed, smiling at the boy’s quick study) did not notice that the video was one that he had already studied.  Indeed it would have been hard to tell since the video’s babbling arguments and ploppy snorts all seemed to blend together after awhile.

 

 

Epilogue 4, Justin’s final exam

 

A months later Charles quizzed his son as they watched another feed from Alex’s house.  “And what is that called?”  He asked pointing at the turd-filled contents beneath the women, “That’s their food, Father; it’s disgusting and comes out of men’s rears!  It is unknown why women eat it but it is the same way that you do not ask why a bird has wings, they just do.”

Mr. Page nods, “That’s right son and what happens if you feed a woman something else?”

“It will nag you and pester you for more.”

“Why are women always after men?”

“Women cannot support themselves.”

 “Yes son, we raise them properly, if they are not given proper food they will complain, saying that we do not feed them enough, by restricting a woman’s diet we may keep it under control.  Remember, women are to be controlled, only Dollies are to be companions.  By keeping it on a strict diet and under strict restriction by a responsible man a woman can actually contribute to society, it is just not usually worth the time and energy that it takes a man to do this for her, and she is ungrateful, complaining that she wishes to be freed.  But what would happen if we allowed a woman to roam freely?”

Justin shuddered at the thought, his earlier fear and embarrassment at the party still haunting him “If you let her free . . .” and the boy shuddered at the thought “she will chase boys around and try to catch them.”

 

--

 

“Very good, but remember, that’s only if they are freed, so long as they are kept under control by a responsible man they cannot harm you, understand?  Good, now, here’s a tricky one . . .  why did God create woman?”

“God created woman to teach man to be more responsible.”

 

--

 

 “Very good, now, before women what were there?” Charles asks his son.

The boy smiles and cries out “Dollies!” for he had been wondering if they would finally get of the dreaded subject of women and onto the Cherished subject of Dollies, he had been learning lots about these as well and could now name over 40 different types.  Each type of Dollie was actually just out of Alex Streuth’s imaginations, for the most part, but that didn’t mean the boy didn’t believe they existed as natural ‘strains’ of Dollie.’  He was personally hoping to catch and rear a girl into a “Bimbot” Dolly, as it says in “Stylish Dollies:”  “Bimbot Dollies, in their natural state, do not move, or talk.  They exist in the same fashion as a robot and only do what they are commanded.  They may have any of the fashion plates from pages i5, i6, or i7.”

 

In secret Justin had been using the books templates to pick out the perfect pink fashion accessories for his Bimbo(t) Dollie, a frilly taffeta dress with many petticoats, a waist cincher and pink bubble gum corset to accent her curves (which Just was starting to acquire a liking for) as well as a lovely French Bob wig, the better to admire her charmingly crafted Latex Doll Face Model #8b “Chloe Verigne” whatever that meant.  Justin just thought the face was adorable, and it promised that no matter what ‘original design flaws’ the Bimbot Dollie’s face had started out as in its natural state, she would look just like the Dollie in the picture once it was put on.

 

Next he picked out matching pink gellie slippers and a bust size of 30FF, which seemed rather small (after all a bigger bust meant a better Dollie, or so his Father taught him) but it seemed to be all the creature’s back could support until he purchased ‘upgrades’ for it.

 

Lastly he picked out a name for the Dollie, one that could be printed and affixed to its forehead to ensure that no one would ever wonder what it was.  “That’s very practical, to put her name onto her forehead,” Justin thought, “Better include my own name on there somewhere too just in case I misplace her so that if someone finds her I can claim her.”  The name to be tattooed onto his future Dollie’s forehead, in a tasteful dark red the book suggested, was to be “Lollipop.”  Justin picked it out because he thought lollipops were ‘sweet, sucking candy’ which is a phrase he had heard his Dad use to describe a Dollie.

 

--

 

“Son,” Mr. Page beckoned Justin over.  “I have just spoken with Mr. Streuth and he wants to invite you over to his house to review your design, I know, its your secret, but a Father needs to know what his son is up to eh?  He will check it to make sure that it is indeed a appropriately suitable design for a man your age” (actually Streuth was going to check to see if they had all of the ‘parts’ available for Page.

“Oh, boy Dad, my very own Dollie,“ Justin looked excited at the prospect of finally getting his very own Dollie.

 

“Excellent, now before we travel, we need to finish your lessons, first, why are there so many women in the world?”

“Because man has been irresponsible, and here in Cherish we do God’s work by helping to contain and reduce the epidemic of feminism and womanhood in the world.  We hope to be able to return the Earth to God’s original intention which is one full of men and” the boys eyes shone as he spoke the next world “pretty dollies!”

 

“That’s correct, but, there is one final test before I will take you to see a live woman, don’t worry though, when we view a live woman she won’t be allowed to harm you, you will just observe how docile she is when a man takes good care of her.  Do you remember what you saw back at Alex’s house?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Well remember, underneath, women are like we have seen on the TV, see how they behave?  When you let them open their mouths they spill their foods, see how ungrateful they are for the gifts men give them?  But they are powerless when they are stored properly, now what did I teach you about storing women?”

Justin recited carefully “To always tie them tight, no matter day or night, if one gets away, you’ll surely rue the day.  If it has some arms, it surely will do harms, to good meaning men so pure and brave.  It is our baleful plight, to try with all our might, to help each woman learn her proper way.”  The lad finished the song and his Father beamed at him.

 

--

 

“Okay and now the quiz son, the final exam:” Charles held out a picture of a waste unit from Alex’s house, its denuded features easily seen as it was out of its box and under sedation.  The laminated sheet had close-ups of different body parts which could be labeled.  “Fill this in and then this one of a Dollie as well and if you pass I’ll take you over to Uncle Alex’s, would you like that?”

“Oh yes Father, I know a lot more about women now, I won’t be scared anymore, do you think I’ll be able to see some Dollies too?” the son asked eagerly, smiling up at his Father. 

 

“Probably Justin, but remember what I said about touching, Dollies are to be seen and not touched, unless you own her, remember?”

“Yes Father.”

“And what do the laws say about owning property?”

The boy sighed, “I can’t own a Dollie until my 18th birthday. . . “he made a little disappointed face.

“Ok but we can look, just fill in the sheet I gave you and if you pass we can go today.”

He began to fill in the sheet, putting the mouth and the vagina ‘spelling it carefully’ in their proper places on the woman and then filling in ‘food’ at the illustration off to the side that showed a man crapping by the head of the sleeping beauty.  He had been explained that when girls reach a certain age they undergo certain chemical changes in their body

 

--

 

Depending on proper upbringing, and the dutiful administration of the discipline of men a girl could be brought into her proper stage of maturity, that of a ‘Dollie’ as evinced by the second sheet the boy was filling out, labeling the ‘mono-glove’ (which helped to ensure the maintained proper maturity so that a Dollie did not revert back to a woman.  He then filled in the ‘bonnet’ and the ‘hair’ where the accessories were on the side of the sheet, and drew an arrow to where they needed to go.  He put the ‘dildo’ in its proper place in her vagina (so strange to see the difference between a Dollie and a woman, he liked looking at the Dollies so much more, its appearance attracted him in ways that were just beginning to grow in him.)

 

Next he went for the bonus points by connecting the largest pair of tits on the page to the chest of the Dollie, and then putting the highest pink heels on her, before putting an arrow from the sissy little girl outfit and avoiding the scary riotgrrl outfit (the sign of a vile feminist, his Father had said), guiding the effeminate frilly and only partially-covering dress onto her with another arrow.  As he filled in the Dollie exam he became aware of some strange feelings in his loins, the idea of getting to raise his very own exciting him.

 

“A Dollie is just an older version of a girl, my son, she is harmless and is a welcome and needed companion for a man.  A woman on the other hand, is a terrifying and horribly ugly thing, as you can see plainly from these videos.  If a girl is not raised properly then as she gets older she becomes more like one of those things in the video.  They talk all day instead of being quiet the way a good Dollie does.”  He looked down sternly at his son, “Now do you want that to happen?”

“No Father,” the son replied, “I want to raise a Dollie, not a woman.  Women are vile disgusting, horrible smelling things.”

“That is correct Justin, you have made me very proud today.”

 

--

 

“This here is a woman” Justin said, as he pointed to the demeaned and deformed little thing that Alex had created.  “And this here is a Dollie,” he said, pointing to the frilly little bimbo on the right, the product of his design work from earlier with some extra accessories such as a pink pocketbook “To hold her different teeth son, you’ll learn about it when you’re older, but a teeth person is an important accessory for a Dollie.”

 

 “Nice job designing her son, did you know that Dr. Spencer can change a Dollie to look how you want her to?”

“Really?” the son asked, looking up in pleasant astonishment.

“That’s right Justin, and your Uncle Alex can show you some ways that your Dollie can be enhanced beyond its currently designed specifications.

 

I know you cannot own one for a few more years but I can buy one now that you have learned about women and so long as you only look and you promise not to touch it except to feed it and change its clothes and care for its nappies.  You must also keep it in its room at all times so that it does not become like a woman, remember, be firm and unyielding, all that a Dollie wants is for you to be weak so that it can turn into a woman!”  Charles looked down menacingly at his son.  Justin did not realize this, but he strengthened his resolve:

“Father, I promise to keep it in its room at all times, I will put it into the clothes that you have shown me that will keep it from moving much, I will read to it, teaching it the proper manners and deportment of a girl and keeping vigilant to make sure that it does not start to become a woman” Justin shuddered, having had nightmares the past month and a half all about vile women chasing him, sprouting arms and legs and coming after him with their food-stained mouths.

“Good, now let’s get over to Alex’s and get you started on raising that new Dollie of yours properly, now she is going to be bigger than you, probably 18 or 19, maybe a little older, but I promise you we won’t get anything older than 21, nothing’s too good for my son, so you’ll have to remember that if you let it out of its bondage it will get you, do you understand son?”

 

“Yes Father, a Dollie is a toy to be played with, not a person like a man or a woman, I may hate women but they are people, just strange ones.  Isn’t it great though that Dollies, as it is explained in Mr. Streuth’s great book “Maintain their girlishness until they die, never attaining God’s gift of a soul that is given to men that they may persevere and to women that they may torment us.”  I may be young, but I know that much.” The young boy, who was fast becoming a man, replied.

 

A moment later he had this epiphany:

“That’s why a Dollie tries so hard to become a woman Daddy!  Because she wants a soul too! Oh and that must be why women try to hard to hurt men, so that they can make more Dollies into women.  It would be sad if I hadn’t seen women up close for myself and realized how vile they are,” he shuddered “I can definitely see why God, in his Divine Providence created Cherish Father, so that man can rightfully maintain and restore the proper balance on Earth.  Wow thank you Dad this is huge, I understand it all now!’

 

--

 

The impressionable young boy skipped eagerly along with his Father, on their way to the House of Streuth for a more personal introduction into the varieties and species of female objects that existed in Cherish, “By the book Streuth”, Page whispered, to which Streuth winked and barked out in his best circus ringleader impression “Come one come all,” as he led the youth back into his gallery of Dolls.  When the boy noticed that the eyes in the Doll masks (the same ones as in his book) moved to follow him along the passageway, he was hardly bothered by it, just smiling at the trapped females inside, because he understood it all now, it was God’s plan that he raise girls into Dollies, so that they not become proper women who destroy His Cherished Society .

 

---

 

 

 

 


by Alex Streuth

 

Literary notes:  As of now there is no major protagonist (who needs one?) while the antagonist is none other than Mr. Alex Arthur Nathaniel Streuth (try saying that three times fast), which is also my pen name, who works in ‘mergers (the merging of his designs with female flesh) and acquisitions’ for Cherish, handling the more business end of things.

 

It is my intent for him to be a corrupting influence on the otherwise (relatively) wholesome ideals of the rest of the town.  In this story the singular concept descried in thorough detail in ‘Alex’s New Design’ is extrapolated upon to include the installation of multiple copies of the same design throughout his domicile.  This further serves to applaud the treatment of women as utilitarian objects yearning to be shaped into serviceable designs for men’s benefit and amusement.  The epilogue is a mini-story.

 

--

 

My influences come from the writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well as fiction from mygagorder.com and thundershrk as well as h.grant and sickman.  I also appreciate bolo of mygagorder.com for his wonderful restructured images.

 

Keywords:  Objectification degradation extreme modifications modified enhanced cuntface pussyface swallowed choked gagged puked vomited forced modified injected amputated helpless down into mouth throat

 

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

 

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 for my hosted collection.