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 (April 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.
--
Continuity and Background:
This story takes place sort of within the
charming dominion of
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.
--
Note from the Author:
It should be remembered that
Mona (the main character) is actually quite an intelligent young woman, who, if
she applied herself properly could accumulate material wealth and success in
the business or professional world. The
lure of sex and fashion have muddled her mind however, and her bimbo persona is
one she has used so often to gain advantage over men that her mind, while sharp,
has dulled through lack of use, her time occupied mostly in pursuits of the
flesh nowadays. In the course of events
her nimble mind will grant her a full comprehension of what transpires around
her (she will understand the depth and severity of the actions that occur later
in this tale.)
If it seems unreasonable that
an intelligent young woman would ‘throw herself away’ like this (by traveling
across the world to join a modeling school, let me point out again the easy
escape from adult pressures offered her (“Come, join our fun school and make
lots of money looking great!”) the selectively suggestive materials that
surround young girls (Allure, Vogue, and of course, the SDM literature) the
pressures of society on a young woman (to look her best in order to find a
mate) and the biological urging of
her young body, flush with hormones that are new and strange to her: They all make a compelling case.
I do not intend this story to
be an indictment of the fashion industry, it is up to
every individual to choose how they spend their time and energy. Consider this not a cautionary tale, but
rather instead, an exploratory tale, one in which a young girl explores the
possibilities and promises of youth, and receives help from some benefactors
who are more than willing to explore her naiveté.
Certainly, a few years from
her young age of eighteen Mona will become more knowledgeable about the world,
but now, faced with the uncertain prospect of her future, with all that she has
known being the sheltered environment designed for her by overprotective
parents, she is ripe for the plucking.
-AS
---
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. This particular
story takes place outside of my normal purview and so some facts cannot be 100%
confirmed, nevertheless I have diligently reconstructed the particulars using
primary sources to the best of my ability (filling in small details perhaps,
along the way.)
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.
Samuel
Kline’s
‘
Introduction
The anonymous beauty opened her eyes widely in terror as another full syringe was brought in front of her, waved in front of her horrified eyes and then plunged into her fat left teat.
She is a very heavy girl, probably about 240lbs. and pudgy all around. Her owner did remark that he had selected her because she ate like a pig and he found her repulsive to look upon. It seemed only fitting to him that he would undertake the arduous burden of becoming responsible for watching her figure.
“Honestly, if the woman can’t make an effort to maintain her figure then why should she be allowed to make decisions about her body at all?” While I couldn’t agree more that women should only make decisions based on the degree of obsequiousness they wanted to show to men I graciously bit my tongue and sighed at what was yet another gentleman of Cherish who valued women too highly. Still, I was not over at this man’s house to chit-chat, he had promised me a fascinating documentary of a new design he had perfected and professional curiosity dictated that I get as much information as possible about a likely colleague or rival while divulging as little as I could to my host about my current aspirations.
I had nothing to worry though, while the design he revealed was indeed marvelous to behold it had come about through his single-minded determination to mold his females into a specific frame, and lacked the depth of imagination that, if I might be so bold as to espouse, is at my fervent disposal. I digress.
The pretty young ‘piggie’ in question was being slowly and surely abducted into, and this was even more fascinating and granted me newfound appreciation for my host’s dedication to his work, what I came to learn as “Samuel Kline’s Society of the Diminishing Meal.”
Chapter 1: The Society Charter
I, Samuel Kline, being of sound mind and body do hereby bequeath the entirety of my holdings and estate to the establishment of a society for the proper treatment of women.
The money is to be put into an endowment which shall pay for all expenses of the society, which is to be run thusly:
The society should operate in obfuscation as to its true motives, let not the general public learn that the true goal of the Society (or SDM) is, I will put it plainly, to kidnap and subjugate young and unwilling women for man’s pleasure.
Let any member who does not agree with the methods of this enterprise be shunted from the society to survive on his own.
Let any member who actively disrupts the ends of the SDM be eliminated.
Let the goals of the Society be enacted above the dominion of civil law, for ours is a higher calling.
The goal of the SDM is to mold young women into perfect physical specimens of femininity. God put woman on this Earth to serve man and modern notions have perverted this natural state.
Woman is helpless and dependant on man, we seek to bring this truth to the physical form.
Woman is weak and fragile, we seek to bring this truth to the physical form.
Woman is base and nagging, a drain on man if not properly controlled, we seek to ensure proper deportment of the female through enhancement to the physical form.
We shall adapt to new technology and invite only similar minded men of means to the Society.
At all costs the preservation of this way of life is to be maintained, let no man speak ill of the Society, nor let its true purpose or means of operation be exposed to any outsider.
Verily, by my pen and by my will I do decree,
On this day of Our Lord, 1829
Samuel
Beauregard Kline, esq.
--
The aforelisted document was only entrusted to me after I was assured that such a society had never actually existed (which I did not believe for a minute) and that my host’s involvement with the notions this fictitional entity espoused was purely for speculative value (which seemed to indicate to me that he wished to refer to it as a professional credential, while eschewing the belief that it actually existed.)
Either way it seemed to me to be an awful lot of blustering on his part and to say that the society didn’t actually exist. I had the impression that my host was either a member of, or a proponent of, a society that wished to maintain the appearance of the occult and therefore not have to face public scrutiny, and, moreover, continue to appeal to those who wanted to be in a ‘secret society.’
Childish posturing and marketing aside, the man’s video had a nice heft to it. The scenes displayed for my vulgar pleasure were indeed the sort to lift any red-blooded Man of Cherish’s spirits. I could not help but silently applaud as the terrified young ‘piggy’ woman was made to endure hellish treatments in scientifically exacting means that required meticulous attention to medical procedure and sadistic forethought and malice. Surely, this was a man after my own heart.
After a few rounds of drinks and some subtle conversational
manipulations on my part I was later that night placing a discreet phone call
to a bank in
Chapter 2: Laying the foundation
Mona applied still more pancake to her already heavily made-up face, intent on being more attractive. She already had a gorgeous body, and would be considered a perfect 10 by many, but her self-esteem and body-image problem made her sure that she was not as liked or popular as the other girls, and she compensated by putting lots of make-up on.
Underneath all of her accoutrements and cosmetics Mona was a
dazzlingly radiant natural beauty, a shimmering maiden awake with vitality and
a darkly alluring tanned complexion that bespoke of a
Her curvaceous cleavage stood firm as she unclasped them from their C cup bra to jiggle beautifully, remaining perky throughout her facial ministrations. Brushing out her beautiful hair, which she was convinced should be blonde if she wanted to be liked, she playfully shook her shoulders to gaze down on what she was sure were inadequate breasts. She frowned, imagining the women in the fashion magazines, whom she studied arduously for hours, envisioning that her bosom could swell to be more like theirs, oh how badly she wished she could be more like them.
--
Each week she spent a huge portion of her allowance on new cosmetics and skin toners, enhancing creams and rubs and diet aids or supplements that promised to ‘melt away the pounds.’ What she did not realize was that her majestic 5’8” form was fully healthy at its current 165 pounds (slightly curvy). In the opinion of the medical community she was the epitome of a nubile young woman, fit yet well-suited to bear children with no need for caesarian.
--
Who cares about scientific thought though, for young Mona knew in her doltish young female mind that she needed to be like the models in the fashion magazines. She was so worried about the future, she was going to have to be an adult, since she had just turned 18 two weeks ago, and now she had get ahead in the adult world and she knew that pretty girls got everything. She knew that girls who were more attractive, more like those models, they were the ones who became successful in life.
She studied hard and she did well in school but more than anything she wanted people to look at her and be in awe of her beauty. She wanted to be desired by men to the point that they would give her everything she wanted in life, she just knew that those models in the magazines had it made. Now that she had just graduated from high school she needed to make up her mind. Her parents urged her to attend an academic school and pursue higher education but Mona was determined to get to the top through good looks; once she was a to-die-for model in the fashion pages she would have everything else she wanted.
--
She saw it on the television, only beautiful people were admired in the mass media, and only those who were seen all the time became famous. Only people who were famous and beautiful became rich and lived fabulously carefree lives.
She closed her heavily made-up eyes, their mascara weighing heavily and shining brightly in the focused lighting of her armoire. She fluttered them and then frowned again, who was she kidding, she was never going to be a model, she was never going to be on a cover, or in a movie, not looking like she was, not FAT like she was!
She picked up the most recent issue of her favorite magazine and bit her lower lip, jealous of all of the stunning women inside. Flipping through the pages she absorbed the images of the most beautiful, thinnest, most gorgeous models (all blonde and all drop-dead knockouts) with their thin ribcages and decadently lithe waspy waists.
She could practically imagine them swooning and falling over, unable to get back up but so adored in their stardom that they would have men volunteering by the dozen to help them back up.
She could see her fans, she closed her eyes and imagined:
The adoring fans gathering around her, as she gazed coquettishly out through her oriental fan, making doe eyes, awash in all of the glorious fame and popularity, her jutting chest proclaiming her sexuality, demanding their attention, all for her, all of their eyes on her.
--
Mona felt herself grow warm down below and stopped her application of make-up to smile and snake a hand down to her moistness, where she cupped herself and began stroking her mons, imagining being in the middle of an adoring throng of fans, admirers who thought she was so beautiful, who thought she was such so successful and smart to have achieved so much.
The magazine she had been looking at beckoned to her in her lust, and she opened her eyes to gaze at her idols, the women of “Samuel Kline’s SDM”, or, School of Dream Modeling, the gorgeous models that she adored and desired to imitate.
She flipped through the pages, stroking herself towards climax . . . just as she was about to cum she saw in amazement an ad towards the back, a direct appeal to the young female readers by THE Samuel Kline:
“Ladies, our school of higher learning of the enrichment and edification of the female form has openings. Let us mold you into the perfect vision of loveliness where you will be sure to become a highly sought after model. Apply now for advanced consideration to these highly prestigious positions.’
Mona’s eyes flared open as imagined herself as a ‘Woman of Kline’, modeling lingerie, shooting devastating looks to the camera, being thin and attractive:
Her eyes fluttering in ecstasy she shot her pussy juices onto the magazine’s glossy pages where her post-orgasmic eyes looked down on them drowsily, her content smile lighting on her lips; she formulated her plan to get into the ‘prestigious’ modeling school.
Chapter 3: An uneventful trip
Mona was overjoyed to find out that she had been accepted into the elite cadre of girls that were enrolled in the SDM (Samuel Kline’s School for Dream Modeling the magazine said) and was eager to get to campus and start her education and transformation.
She knew that the SDM was an elite school: She had talked to her friends about it and none of them had ever heard of it. Keeping her ‘secret weapon’ to herself she had changed the subject while entertaining dreams of getting in to the exclusive European school and then returning home a victorious dazzling beauty, much to the jealousy and bitterness of her high school rivals.
She had thought that being accepted would be impossible, seeing as how the website noted that very few applicants were accepted and that a rigorous selection process was used. She made sure to put all of her gushing devotion and eagerness into her e-mailed application, and included attachments of her ‘best’ (the ones with her most slathered on make-up) headshots to the admissions committee.
Hope against hope that had been enough to convince the admissions board of her dedication to modeling! She felt so lucky and proud when she had received her acceptance letter. Also, and this was especially exciting, the letter specified that she was to be enrolled in the advanced course for gifted young women who showed special promise.
This accelerated course offered 1-to-1 teaching in a quiet and peaceful atmosphere that promised astute concentration on lessons so that she could become a better model faster. Therefore she had signed the ‘model release’ which allowed her to participate (she had been giddy with glee as she had realized that she, Mona, the girl who wasn’t attractive or pretty enough in school (at least as she thought), was going to be one of the super dream models at the elite Kline School!
What’s more, and this caused the young Mona’s heart to flutter and her face to brighten with glee: She had received a full scholarship! The school then had sent her e-tickets to pay for her transportation and all of her room and board was going to be provided for her so long as she maintained her grades!
“They think I have real potential,” she clapped her hands in delight, “Oh this is so wonderful, I feel so appreciated.” she exclaimed, happy to have the approval she so desperately needed. Already she began plotting how to keep this a secret from her parents so that they couldn’t ruin her accomplishment.
--
After leaving her parents a note saying that she was going off into the world to seek her fortune she had taken the New Jersey Transit train North from her home in New Jersey, headed to Penn Station New York. She had sold her laptop (with the e-trail of her plans) to a used computer store to get cash for food, luggage, and more ‘armaments’ for her new life (more cosmetics and some new clothes.)
She had reached the
The first ticket the SDM had provided for her was for a flight from New York to London where she would then use the second ticket, this one for train travel through the ‘chunnel’ to arrive eventually in Switzerland.
As she got onto the plane to
--
It was to be a long flight so she settled in for a nap while on the plane and dreamed of how it would be like after she was beautiful (she had carefully powdered her nose before she had left the house, wanting to make sure she looked her best for her first impression upon her teachers. She had made sure to put extra foundation on her face (covering up her naturally beautiful complexion and making her look like a torrid whore in the process) so that she looked ‘extra pretty.’
When she graduated from college she knew that she would vindicate herself, that her mom would see how pretty she would be. She would be pretty, she vowed, all of the time pretty, with no stupid parents to tell her what to do: She was her own woman, and no matter what it took she was going to make it!
--
Throughout high school her mom (who she was sure was just jealous of her youth) had stopped her before she could leave the house with all of her beauty on, ‘No daughter of mine is going to leave the house looking like that’ her mom had scolded her. She was made to take off the majority of her make-up (while Mona seethed in frustration as her ‘good looks’ were taken away) and made to go out with ‘something more reasonable’ on.
After leaving the house Mona would then take her back-up compact out of her panties (her mother confiscated the rest) to re-apply her heavy powder and blush so that she could be beautiful again. No matter how many times her mom or dad told her she was beautiful without all of that silly garbage she liked to wear, she still knew, deep down, that she needed to look like the girls she admired in her fashion mags. She became desperate for approval from the guys, knowing that if even they didn’t think she was pretty then how could she become a successful model, irresistible and sexy with a body and a perfectly dolled up face.
Since she had started ‘putting on her face’ at age fourteen she had started feeling better about herself, the boys at school were always giving her attention now, noticing her and looking at her in the face when she talked. She could see their eyes take in her beauty and stare rapt at what she hoped was a model-perfect make-up job. She knew that by keeping their attention and showing them how attractive she was they would come to respect and adore her more.
She read in her magazines about how a girl should act and she saw in her magazines how a girl should look if she wanted to make it in the world. She knew that so long as she could become a covergirl she would have men providing everything for her.
She couldn’t wait, it was going to be so cool to be a model and have all of the guys after her, fawning over her! She was going to look so pretty, so elegant and stately. She was going to be adored by millions, she was going to tour the world and people would know how great she was . . . she was going to be rich . . . she was going to be famous . . . she was going to be beautiful . . .
These thoughts circled around in her brain, her consciousness sinking lower and lower as she fell towards sleep, before her mind plunged down the drain of awareness and gurgled itself into unconsciousness.
--
While she slept the male passenger seated next to her, “My name’s Tom, I’m just going for a trip to see some of the Coast, I hear its beautiful, hey, mind if I help you with that?” pulled out a pocket disposable camera (which he had been planning on using to do some sightseeing) and instead began surreptitiously snapping photos of the amazing woman seated next to him, he stared, fascinated and enraptured by how beautifully whorish and cheap the young bimbo’s face was. Ever since he had first seen her he could only picture cheap prostitutes and porcelain dolls.
Fate had graced the two with the perfect opportunity to get to know one another better “I’m *yawn* just going to take a little nap, wake me in a little bit, ok Tom?” Their row was the furthest back to the divider between first class and coach; they had perfect privacy from behind, and with their seating arrangement it was like they had a little cozy nook to themselves on the flight.
Mona had been granted the window seat by the young man, who had been gentlemanly enough to offer it to her. He had taken her middle seat, while the aisle seat remained occupied by the comatose elderly woman who had taken some sleeping pills at the beginning of the flight.
The ‘nice young man’ who had helped the two women to get their luggage up into the stowaway area grinned to himself as he watched Mona pursing her lips in her sleep. He continued to snap photos of her quietly as a spit bubble popped on her wet lips and spittle began to drip out of her mouth hole.
With his other hand he gently stroked his cock through his pants, imagining being able to place its tip at the entrance to the young woman’s sacrosanct mouth. He stared at her napping form, wishing that he could be totally alone with her.
In his fantasy he imagined that as her mouth parted in its slumber her wiggling tongue took on the aspect of a goalkeeper in a hockey or soccer match and further beyond it, deeper in her mouth, close to her throat hung a small sign (where her uvula would normally be) which read ‘Goal.’ In his mind his cock aimed, drew back and then shot powerfully, soaring into and scoring on the sleeping beauty’s beautifully unprepared mouth, spewing his invading goo past her defenses and into her vacuous, silly little head.
--
Instead, having a sudden inspiration, he ‘borrowed’ from the older woman a few of her sleeping pills. At the beginning of the flight she had taken them out and then had replaced them into the side pocket of her carry-on bag (which she had then placed at her feet.) Carefully, he opened the capsules and gently coaxed the light blue powder into the mouth of the unsuspecting young Mona, his soon to be sleeping beauty.
At first nothing happened, it just sat on her lips, and then in a moment of panic she seemed to awaken. In horror Tom made to sit up straight and act casual as she stirred; she only turned a bit however, and to Tom’s delight her mouth and face were looking right at him, but her eyes remained closed, her breathing remained steady, and she showed only the signs of a sleeper turning in her rest.
--
Reflexively, her tongue moved the powder into her mouth, and then deeper inside to mix it with her saliva and then swallow it. Tom let out a breath of relief as his young miss took the drug and, slowly, while he watched intensely and fastidiously, she fell further into her slumber.
Glancing around at the other passengers, who were all either unable to see over to his ‘cozy nook’ or sleeping, Tom sneered down at this hapless young slut.
Something in him said that it was wrong to do this, but he countered:
It wasn’t his fault, this whorish vision of beauty in front of him had been practically begging him to do this to her, it was all in the way she looked. No self-respecting woman put that kind of make-up on, she looked like hooker trash, he knew that she wanted to be used, and he was just doing his manly duty.
Tom rationalized his actions as he continued snapping photos of the sedated sexpot in his grasp. He pulled her lips more open to snap photos of the inside of her mouth. He took pictures of his hand moving around her face, exploring it, smearing her make-up and claiming it as his. He took his finger and began to move it in and out of the sleeping girl’s mouth.
Rustling impatiently through his bag Tom found what he was looking for, taking his digital camera out of its storage space deep in his carry-on. He hadn’t planned on using it until later in the week but had taken it on-board so as to ensure its safety. Now he was glad that he had it, his snapshot camera was out of film.
--
Smiling down at the lovely angel he was about to defile Tom began to snap photos of her face and then her cleavage. He moved her head back and adjusted her shoulders (glancing around again but sure that the only person that might bother them was a passing stewardess) so that he could get some nice shots of her deep chest ravine. The girl had a nice body, he thought, and he didn’t understand why she hid it behind such heavily obvious cosmetics.
She’s just a big slut, he concluded, I might as well giver her what she’s just begging for. She’s got so much lip gloss on, why those pouting bubble suckers that resemble a fish’s lips (one of her cosmetics actually used bee venom to give her the beestung look) that are just practically hanging off of her lower face are just aching for cum.
Not needing to talk himself further into what he knew he must do, Tom got up and went to the bathroom, taking his plastic cup along with him. Quickly taking his bulging cock out of its confines in his pants he came mightily into the plastic receptacle. In his mind he wished that he could fuck the sleeping girl’s mouth but he knew that that would hardly go unnoticed, even in first class.
Settling for the next best thing, he palmed the soiled cup and zipped up, returning to his seat just after the stewardess was passing by to offer drinks. He smiled, knowing that she would continue back into coach and not be coming back for a bit, the perfect opportunity for him to offer the sleeping beauty a drink of her own.
Propping Mona’s head up in his arm, he held the cup to her lips and cooed to her softly to ‘open up, open up like a good girl.’ When this didn’t work (the girl was too far gone in her slumber) he simply tipped her head back a little and poured the sticky drink into her mouth hole.
Noting with satisfaction that she was ‘taking her medicine’ like a good girl, watching her adam’s apple bob and her mouth swallow his load Tom settled back for a relaxing trip. Anytime that he got the urge he would make another trip to the bathroom. At one point he decided that he needed to go pee but that it would be a shame to let all of it go to waste by just depositing it in the plane’s toilet, so he filled up his cup as much as he could to take back with him.
Tilting the young maiden’s head back, practiced at feeding his young treasure, Tom offered her something to ‘wash it down’ with, smiling wickedly as the acrid urine entered her mouth and taking pleasure in the mild coughing this brought from her.
Her eyes fluttered open briefly but she was still extremely drowsy and gulped down his nasty waste while semi-conscious. Cringing at the taste but nevertheless taking it all down and then slowly re-entering unconsciousness, Mona slept the rest of the way with the accompanying smell and aftertaste of tepid urine on her lips and breath.
Chapter 4: An even more uneventful trip
Studying her pocketbook for her identity and her travel
destination Tom made plans to get aboard the same train to
Making some calculations as to his available assets he made a phone call from the plane and quickly secured the remaining three compartment tickets for himself. He hung up the call in smug satisfaction, watching the young helpless girl who was going to be his in a much more private setting frown and mutter in her sleep. Leaning close he heard her say “Going to look so pretty” and then curl up her nose again at the lingering smell of her befouled face.
Taking a few more things from the old woman’s carry-on Tom savored his time with Mona alone on the plane (eventually cleaning her up to avoid suspicion.) When she finally awoke and the plane touched down he helped her with her luggage and bid her a cheery goodbye.
Mona was so eager to get to school, her classes would start
in two days, she felt refreshed after her nap on the plane, she was glad that
Tom had not woken her after all, she still felt a little groggy so she probably
had needed the sleep. After getting into
--
Tom had read the bottle on the sleeping agents while on the plane and made an estimate for how long they would keep her out. Comparing that number to the duration of the train ride, and considering how long he might have to wait before the girl became hungry again, he dissolved the counted out substance into a bottle of spring water and took a seat on the train a few cars away from where his tickets enabled him to enter the couchette apartment.
Mona meanwhile had boarded the train and headed straight for her private apartment. She knew that this was a sleeping compartment, but since it was first class she assumed that she had it all to herself. In actuality the large couches folded out to form four beds, usually affording up to four people of different genders the ability to spend the night together in first class comfort and privacy. They are able to lock the door to ensure a restful sleep, and, in some, as in this one, they even have their own sink and toilet, even a shower.
--
After taking tickets and the delivery of a meal the guests would be left alone to enjoy the privacy and to sleep. At the first stop Tom moved closer to the couchette car and flagged an attendant. Watching, Tom saw when Mona’s compartment was approached to have her food order taken. When the attendant returned with the meal (including a bottle of spring water) Tom interrupted the man while in the corridor claiming that he had just gotten on board at a recent stop and was looking for his compartment.
While the train attendant checked the ticket for veracity Tom quickly and subtly made the bottle switch, ‘accidentally’ knocking it off of the meal cart and then fumbling for it while professing his apologies. The attendant said that it was no worry and that everything appeared to be in order, in fact he would be happy to direct Tom to his car since he was bringing this meal to it at that moment anyhow.
Tom thanked the man but said that he had left his luggage a few cars up and would be grateful for some assistance. The attendant said that of course he would help the good Sir with his luggage if he would just wait a moment. Tom nodded and waited with a pleasant smile on his face as the attendant continued a small ways further down and knocked on Mona’s door.
Tom watched as the food was delivered and noted thankfully that the attendant, aware of the fact that Tom was waiting for him just a short ways away, and within earshot, didn’t make small talk with Mona (this would surely have indicated to her that another passenger would be coming to join her shortly.)
While this kind of small talk isn’t the sort of thing an attendant would go out of their way to make with a passenger, something along the lines of “Madam, another guest just arrived” would be a natural conversation given the immediacy in time between Tom and the attendant’s, and the attendant and Mona’s interactions.
However, since Tom was standing right nearby (but out of Mona’s line of vision and awareness) the attendant knew it would be rude to speak about Tom as though he were not there, and, while he could introduce them to each other that would be highly irregular.
--
Tom then led the attendant on a long goose chase for his luggage, tactfully playing the part of a forgetful traveler mixed with the fear that perhaps it had been stolen while he had waited for the attendant to finish delivering the meal. “That doesn’t seem likely though, does it?” Tom had said to the distressed attendant, who, while regulations decreed that patrons’ valuables were ‘at their own risk’ still felt that it would be awful if the man’s things would have been taken during the short time that he had needed to complete the earlier request made upon him by the young lady (delivering the meal.)
--
Tom continued on in this manner until he felt that Mona had had sufficient time to ingest the tainted water and fall asleep. Also, the man he was harrying was about at wit’s end and was sure to alert a supervisor sooner or later if Tom’s luggage continued to be unfound.
Finally Tom ‘stumbled’ across his bags “Oh, they were here the whole time, well silly me.” The relieved attendant unlocked the door to the couchette for Tom (a valid ticketholder) and gratefully accepted Tom’s generous tip of $50 for his time.
Alone at last with his sleeping beauty, sweat beginning to develop on his brow, Tom let out a long sigh of accomplishment as he locked the door behind him and set up shop in the sleeping maiden’s quarters. Mona would never know that he was here, and he had her all to himself, finally.
Venturing into the bathroom to scope out its space and accommodations while tidying himself up at the sink Tom drew a sheet out to use for later transportation of Mona from the main compartment into what he planned to be her ‘new home.’ Smiling at the toilet and the shower stall and thinking of Mona as being able to spend some ‘quality time’ with her ‘fellow plumbing’ Tom considered the situation he had altered for his purpose.
--
Normally a first class couchette compartment is occupied by four guests, who can be of different genders, and usually the occupants are single. The private bathroom is only afforded first class couchettes. The compartment is intended to be a place for four strangers to pass their trip in comfort while maintaining their privacy.
Tom, therefore, had changed what was normally used by four occupants into his own private sleeping car, complete with his own incapacitated young female to enjoy.
--
He took a moment to survey his prize. Mona was dressed in a tight, bright purple miniskirt with a sash around her right side. Her beautiful raven mane was big and bouncy with all of the hairspray in it. She had a cute bright yellow ribbon on the right side of her locks. Her hair was straight but bounced up and to the side before curling back around her head like a large bob. More of her hair fell behind her shoulders to rest at the middle of her back. A few stray strands had inched inwards and caressed her mouth.
Her lips were a dark, slutty red with purple liner. Her fulsome lips pouted ever so and they were extra red from the gorging of blood in their swelling forms, the bee venom in Mona’s lip balm causing them to puff up expertly.
Not to be left out her eyes had large saucers of pastel green powder around them. Her eyeshadow was slathered on gauchely as though she were a raccoon. Large dobs of mascara caused her lashes to weigh heavily under the cosmetic burden. These gorgeous lashes glinted in the light, shining under the sparkly jet black mascara.
Lastly for her face, but even more noticeably, her rouged cheeks resembled those of a dolls. They looked totally artificial, resembling much less the blush of health than that of a lollipop tattooed onto her cheeks. The slight swirly pattern was of Mona’s own design, she started at the center and spiraled her way out. The extra dark color was from her use of lipstick to rouge her cheeks rather than a light powder. All in all her face was the perfect vision of dollhood.
She looked like she would be right at home on the street corner plying her wares and sucking cocks for blow. Her tight clingy shirt did nothing to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra and in fact her nipples were visible quite clearly in the tight light blue baby-t she was wearing. The long sleeves were unusual but served to lead the eye down towards her obviously acrylic nails, bright pink, which were about 2 inches long.
Most visually gripping though, the word BABE was emblazoned on her chest in bright orange block letters that looked like a graffiti tag on a slut.
Tom’s attention was diverted lower however by an equally enticing grabbing visual:
Her ass was practically made from melted butter and dripping out of the slut’s tight miniskirt. It curved so playfully and was peeking out at him from its tight quarters under its hip-hugging holster. Young female skin just oozed out from around the strained fabric, Mona’s asscheeks jutting coyly out the back and lifting the lip of the dress up just teasingly enough to show some thigh. Tom smiled as he noticed that last part.
When Mona had fallen unconscious she had slumped back onto the cushion and the friction from the couch’s fabric had held her skirt as her behind had slid forward. Thus her skirt had come up quite high on her and her red panties were starting to show underneath.
Tom clasped his hands together, savoring the delicious morsel so lewdly laid out before him.
--
Having surveyed the quarters and deposited his belongings Tom pulled the blinds to ensure greater privacy and to ‘set the mood.’ Taking out a candle and a tablecloth he adorned the small table in the center of the compartment as though for a romantic evening. Dragging the drugged girl closer to the end of her seat he propped her up, using a bit of tackyglue to secure her eyelids open.
Other than the drugged look in the unconscious girl’s eyes she now looked to be fascinated by whatever was in front of her. Tom lit the candle and took out a few food items from his bag. The first was a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate icing, the second was a small container of yogurt and the third was a cheese Danish (all still fresh from their recent purchase at the train station’s shop.)
Sitting down across from Mona, but only a hand’s length away from her, he clasped her hands in his and spoke to her as though he was a close friend. “Mona (he had already surveyed her ID on the plane and knew her name, age, and address) my dearest, I love you so much my darling, my cherished.” He waited a few moments.
“I see you are speechless my dear, but I am eager to share my love and my affection with you, please, won’t you join me for some dessert?” He lifted the spoon and scooped up a bit of the yogurt, guiding it up to the unconscious girl’s mouth and then pushing it in carefully, so as not to spill any. Sliding the contents off on the inside of her mouth he cooed at her “That’s a good girl, don’t you enjoy my treats? Eat it all up.” Bringing the spoon down to the yogurt he scooped up another spoonful and again pushed it into her mouth. “There you go, ahhh, but what’s the matter? Doesn’t my girl like it? I see you must not like the taste if you aren’t chewing and swallowing it.”
Tom stood up and unzipped his pants, eager to ‘bless’ the food for his darling prize. “My dear let me show you how much I love you, let me make a toast to our relationship.” Here he held up the yogurt and held it in front of his cock. He began stroking his cock as he continued “Now let us be thankful for what we are about to receive. Is my little girl not going to thank her provider? Is that any way to show thanks for this bounty of food set before you?” Mona remained unaware of the proceedings and unmoving.
“Then let me bless the food for you” Tom said raggedly, his orgasm upon him, “So that, ah, you may, uh nhhhh, better, nnnnnhh, huh, appreciate, nnnnnh, the gift, ahhh, that you are, ah, about, to receive. . .” Tom spurted generously into the yogurt, shifting to splash his jism over the cake and to guide the remainder into the dip in the center of the Danish, covering the cheese filling.
His manly needs alleviated Tom returned a sober face to his young charge, he took out his camcorder to record the proceedings for posterity, positioning it to catch the room’s transpirings:
“Open up my dear.” With one hand he stretched Mona’s mouth open, holding the yogurt up to her face so that he could get the angle right. Waiting for a moment to savor the act he then tipped the whole contents into her mouth, closing her jaw afterwards and then massaging her neck to help guide the food down into her stomach.
Next he mashed the cake up with the fork and then pushed the mush into her mouth, not bothering to take his time, just smooshing it into her mouth so as to make a mess on her lips and fill her up. He poured some milk into her mouth to soften it up further and then stroked and tilted her head to guide it down (some involuntary reflexes helping of course.)
Lastly he cut away the center of the Danish, to keep the part soiled by his cum away from the rest. Taking the outside of the pastry he put it into his own mouth and enjoyed the flavor. He chewed it and softened it with his saliva but was careful to swallow as little as possible. Holding Mona’s mouth open with his hands, he bent in for a ‘kiss’ and shoveled the pre-digested food into her mouth from his own.
Every couple of seconds he would stop and move the contents in his own mouth around to better coat them with his saliva and give them a chance to break down more. After having a softer mush he would push it into Mona’s mouth, feeding her this softened meal and depositing lots of his saliva in the process.
Lastly he took the cummy center of the cheese Danish and began pushing it around her face as though it were one of her make-ups. The pre-existing stuff had already had plenty of time to cake onto her face and barely smudged as Tom ‘glazed’ her face, making it more pretty and marking it as his.
The soiled cheesy mess fell apart after awhile though, and Tom dipped his fingers, coated with his cum, the sweet pastry cheese, and bits of make-up, into Mona’s lovely mouth, probing it with his digits and bathing them in her face’s natural hand washing sink.
--
His cock hardening during his play, Tom grabbed Mona roughly by her doll-hair and yanked her back, he dried his messy hand in her tufts of hair and then wiped it on her shirt. The whole time Mona’s glued open eyes watched the assault on her person without seeing as Tom disrobed and then bent Mona over the couch’s seat.
Not even needing to touch her clothing at all Tom found the bent-over Mona’s newly revealed physiology exciting. Her short miniskirt hiked up in the back when she bent over, revealing her soft unders. Like a hunter in the jungle Tom watched the skirt act as parting foliage. In the distance he could make out his prey, the dark red lace panties of the girl offering little resistance to his visual intrusion.
Still completely sedated and unconscious the girl was unaware as her backside was ignominiously propped up again so as to offer her host an even better (lewder) view of her hidden treasures. Her rear bubbled succulently, like a flowering bulb, as Tom watched, parting the way through the brush (sliding her tiny panties to the side) his helpless prey came into view.
Mona’s puckered rear hole appeared first, totally unguarded and defenseless. The soft, yet unyielding flesh screamed out for penetration, a hunter with a cocked bow would find it a firm, and resistant, yet succulent prize for the taking.
Next to show itself was the larger of the two of Mona’s trophies. Her pulsing pink pussy parted prettily as Tom’s pinky pierced its inner labia and plumbed its hidden secrets. Wiggling his digit inside of her for the first time, Tom smiled at the moistness and then withdrew his now lubed finger and moved it towards her lower hole.
The invaded twat stared back angrily at Tom as he withdrew from it, scandalized by his probing but helpless and flustered by his strong grip, as if to say “Is that all, you’re just going to move on? Don’t you like me baby?” with pouting lips.
Ignoring it for the time being Tom focused on Mona’s dirtier hole. Just playing around the outside of it Tom grinned at the sheer joy of his conquest. Mona was his for the taking, and having secured her for himself in the complete privacy of this moving train, she would never know who he was outside of her brief remembrance of him on the plane.
She would never know that he had gotten on the same train as her, never know that he had shared her car, and never see any part of him unclothed or know his full name. In contrast, he knew all about her, all of her vitals off of her ID, knew what she kept in her bag, what she looked like in even her most intimate secret places, and also what kind of secrets she hid in her diary (Which had helped to pass the time on the plane in between trips to the bathroom.)
For example, towards the beginning of the diary which she had appeared to have been keeping since puberty, the beginning entry is:
“Today I had my first period, it was so embarrassing. I made a mess of my panties and I was so scared I didn’t know what was happening. The nurse called me from class after the kids had stared at my blushing face. I had put my hands over my privates to hide them, my shame showed on my face but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to die. Luckily the nurse helped me and was kind to me. She put a pad into my . . . into me and told me what was happening. I hope it never happens again, I’m so embarrassed by my body I don’t plan on ever showing it to anyone ever.”
Another excerpt: “Today a boy tried to kiss me, it was icky and I pushed him away. He grabbed me and pushed his face up to mine before another girl came around the corner. I was so embarrassed. He made it seem like I had wanted it, and I cried. The other girl was apparently his girlfriend and called me a slut. She scolded her ‘man’ for playing around with ‘such a cheap whore.’ My mommy told me not to let boys touch me. She said if I ever see a stranger to not take my clothes off for him for whatever reason. I would never do such a thing though, its such a horrid thought: boys are so gross. It seems weird that a girl would take their clothes off in front of a boy, I’m going to wear baggy clothes like armor and stay far away from them.”
An entry Tom had particularly enjoyed: “I touched myself again today. I think it’s probably wrong but it feels so good. You have to promise never to tell anyone about what I do with myself when I’m alone diary. I’m a very naughty girl but ooh it feels so good. I tried putting two fingers in today and something happened. I was stroking myself and usually it feels good but this time it felt even better. I touched this little nub on the top of my . . . on the top, down below of me, and it felt so good I had this brilliant feeling come over me. My body shook a little, in a good way. I’m not going to tell anyone about this, its too embarrassing, but just between you and me diary, its great! In fact I’m touching myself with my other hand right now, got to go, I’ve started to like boys and I can see that I was wrong about them before, I’ll write in you soon!”
--
Tom took this little book out now and began reading it while he stroked his cock to hardness. He leaned forward to rest his weight on his little fucktoy and pet her hair (setting the book on the couch for the moment.) Turning it open to read about her continuing awareness of her sexuality he followed along as her sexual needs developed and her public behavior changed. He read over and over again of how she had teased a man, running her hands over her curves to make him want her, luxuriating in her newfound sexual power. Tom smiled as he placed his hard spear to her gated entrance.
So many times this young trollop had denied the men in her diary. He read here how she was nervous and scared of actually getting naked, but loved the feel of power and success that came from looking attractive and getting attention. “She had certainly gotten ‘Little Tom’s’ attention on the airplane, practically begging for it as she crossed a hand over her chest (as though she were faint of breath)” Tom thought as he snarled down at his plunder.
Setting the book aside he pulled her labia apart and aimed his shot. Looking down at her helplessly displayed folds which naturally wanted to close and deny him entrance he held them wide, creating a small gaping hole in the center of his prize’s most dear charm. Narrowing his eyes in menace he savagely penetrated the sleeping beauty in one full ‘pool cue’ stroke his eyes closing further in bliss as he guided his manhood deeper and deeper into the knocked-out knockout’s unwilling, unwitting and (soon to be knocked-up) inner sanctum.
--
Setting the book aside he grabbed her mane of hair and twisted his fingers in it, yanking her head back and then pounding into her. Establishing control of her more firmly he pushed her face and chest back into the cushion as he pulled her arms back behind her, gripping them securely at the crossing of the wrists
The still unconscious girl remained dispassionate as her rape progressed. Perhaps a bit of dust was in the air but as Tom roared in victorious joy and delightful surprise a single, solitary tear escaped her sunken mind and rolled down her face; no longer a virgin, the newly deflowered girl ‘cried’ for her lost maidenhood. The slutty tease with the whorish make-up and cheap taudry clothes, who nevertheless maintained her distance and preserved her virtue (working hard in school to try to gain every advantage she could) had just been violated and claimed.
Tom eased out, the virginal blood on his cock a sharp visual cry of conquest, quickly re-immersing its lubricated cockhood into another part of the beauteous bounty before him, this time sampling the maiden’s other hole. Tasting its outer delights, circling its delicacies, Tom worked his way up to and then pushed past and into Mona’s tight little sphincter.
Like a pig rooting for food, pushing and grunting, Tom wormed his way down into Mona’s strained bottom hole before, after a rush of discovery, he bottomed out. His balls smacking her cheeks in victory, Tom slowly luxuriated in the deflowering of the tight, succulent, rotund ass made even more distended by his large presence:
Reaching maximum impact he pulled her tightly to him and then ejaculated forcefully into her depths.
--
The young virgin with the carefully calculated air of cockteasing control had just had all of her lower holes claimed by this total stranger, and would never know that she was now ‘damaged goods.’
Tom wanted to make sure that no one else could ‘top his score,’ however, and so set out to deflower her mouth as well in a more formal and thorough manner. First taking his prize to the bathroom for cleaning and to freshen up her oral cavity, he shook his softening prick to wakefulness again. Building his strength for the final battle, he made sure to rinse her mouth out and spray some breath freshener into it: He knew where that mouth had been.
--
His rough ministrations must have jolted her a bit though, for she stirred, or at least he thought she stirred. He still had some drug left he could give her but he was so ready to burst again at the sight of this helpless maiden and her lolling wide wet mouth that he put the thought aside and leapt to action:
Not sure whether she was fully asleep now or not (but fully needful in his lust) Tom grabbed his hardening member and pulled it free from its prison.
Putting his knees beside the sleeping girl’s head he made sure he had the angle right, carefully lining his manhood up with her unsuspecting, lost-in-dreamland slobbering cockgobbler lips. Hooking one finger from each hand into her mouth he pulled it open invitingly, holding this position for several moments, savoring his coming victory over this helpless girltoy. Basking in the glorious control and domination he held over the sleeping lady’s defenseless head, he spat a gob of his oral waste into her head, a concentrated, hocked-up, mucus-loaded gift, signaling the beginning of hostilities. Without warning he acted with menace, violently cramming her craw full to the brim with his mighty cock in one pouncing motion.
Steadily gaining tempo he invaded her: Moving in jerky spasms, slowly drawing out and then quickly lunging spasmodically back in, he raped her mouth, mercilessly, over and over. Vaguely her mind registered the action subconsciously and moved it into her dreamstate where she suddenly found herself being attacked by a shadowy figure.
In her dream she ran wildly, flailing left and right, screaming and sobbing as she was chased until, suddenly, she was caught. Crying loudly she felt her arm snared in his vice-like grip, then his other arm caught her throat and she could not breathe!
Tom pumped hard into her face, adjusting his angle so that as he neared his climax he forced a deepthroat reflex from his quietly whimpering yet completely helpless and sedated young playmate.
She choked in her dream and in reality as long, thick ropey strands of invading sperm coated her larynx and pervaded her head. Coughing wetly and ineffectually on Tom’s still buried cock her sleepy mind tried to rouse itself, to minimal success.
She barely returned to reality during this trauma, but all she saw was dark and hairy (on account of the drawn blinds and Tom’s hulking form mounted on her chest.) Not making the cognitive transition from sleep to wake she consciously swallowed his sperm, not really knowing what she was doing but making a definite mental decision to let all it all down, to let all of Tom’s gooey ‘soldiers’ clambering at her walls in, taking all of his defiling spend down, gulping sleepily, trying to clear the besieged airway.
Petting her head and cooing at her Tom coaxed her to return to her sedated state, calming the violated vixen by making comforting sounds to her and saying ‘good girl, that’s a good girl.’ Her eyes twitched a little as some part of her registered that she was under attack, before the comforting tone in his voice, and the continuing tug of the sleeping medication eventually brought her back down under control, signaling a complete victory for Tom.
After finally managing all of the messy gooey load down into her stomach, swallowing over and over and then gulping air as Tom pulled out of her mouth, Mona quietly continued the descent back into her dream state, her eyes dimly registering the blinking red light of Tom’s digital camcorder and using it as a reference for her first new dream as it recorded the conquest in glorious full-motion color.
Sighing in relief that she had not woken up but now fully alert after scoring his goal and depositing his load Tom grabbed another item out of his bag. Tapping it slightly to check its level, Tom pushed the baby bottle up to Mona’s lips. Somewhat semi-conscious, loosely, the young maiden reacted instinctively and nursed from Tom’s hold. Suckling on the plastic teat Mona ingested more of the nefarious drug and balanced on the brink of drugged sleep again.
Tom yanked the bottle out as he watched the state of her eyes, wanting her dazed and confused, and sedated of course, but still somewhat aware. Turning to the uneaten meals that the train staff had given her and he earlier (before Tom had entered the car) Tom settled down for the next part of his conquest, what was to be the piece de resistance in this severely controlled macabre ‘theatre’ Tom was putting on with the help of his ‘talented’ young starlet for the benefit of his ever-watchful camcorder.
Chapter 5: The True Nature of Woman
Having noted early in the plane flight the slightly unsettling presence of adult diapers in the elder woman’s bag he had thought about how he might take full advantage of his temporary ownership of the young nubile beauty he had planned to capture.
A slowly emerging plan, a calculated invasion of the powerless girl’s body in a more subtle manner, took shape in Tom’s mind. After he had gotten off of the airplane, but before boarding the train, during the time that Mona had been sightseeing, he had gotten the necessary items and taken them onboard the train as his ‘luggage.’
--
Before allowing Mona more out of her daze Tom had relaxed her eyelids and covered her eyes with a light cloth. Blindfolded the drugged damsel had no chance of becoming visually aware of Tom while in the semi-conscious state he intended her to remain in for the next few hours.
Keeping Mona precariously on the edge between sleep and wakefulness Tom coaxed bits of food from the dinner into her mouth where she dozily chewed and swallowed it. In her drugged mind she was conscious of what she was doing but not fully cognizant of it. She thought she was having a particularly lucid dream.
Whenever he noticed a muscle jerk, a hand stir or her breathing tempo change Tom would put a small drop of the knock-out drug into her next bite of the food he was shoveling in.
--
Smiling at his little girl he continued to feed her, this bite was mushed peas from the dinner (mashed with his fork and then spooned into her mouth) which she dutifully, albeit dozily, chewed like a cow before swallowing it all down.
Observing the resting beauty Tom was struck by a beautiful epiphany:
This whole time he was searching for a way to degrade and humiliate the young woman when, right now, he was seeing her in her natural state! Free from the posturing and strutting attitude Mona was relaxing into her true state of being. No longer concerned with the petty bickering and competition women go through to try to attract a male provider the unconscious young girl was dropping the façade, the pretension that she was a mature human being.
Tom watched the gentle beauty, as a small burp escaped her lips, and he fell in love with his newfound understanding of this divine creature, it made it all so much simpler and made a lot more sense.
Women weren’t human beings at all, they just pretended to be so with their clothes and their attitudes, if you take all that away, Tom mused, you reduce woman to her most basic nature. Tom smiled as he witnessed the transformation before him, any moment now he would see a confirmation of woman’s basic animal status:
Sure enough, Tom’s newfound view of women was justified as Mona’s stomach gurgled a little in preparation for the magic moment. Tom leaned forward in anticipation, squatting Mona on her haunches to get her into a better position to communicate. He tied a band around her upper thighs (bringing her ankles closer to her bottom) for support.
He could see that Mona’s animal nature was about to reveal itself so he prepped a bowl under her to catch what she wanted to express, knowing that the girlthing in front of him was about to divulge its innermost thoughts and feelings.
True to her nature, Mona’s ‘thought processes’ had been progressing apace this whole time and before long Tom was rewarded for his patience. Mona’s beautiful arse let out a burp and slowly parted prettily to let out a small trickle of girl-waste, a string of obscene defecate fell into her bowl. Her ‘words’ sounding like a slurping unintelligible language, Tom smiled as Mona did her best to communicate with him in her native tongue.
--
Continuing to feed Mona more of the dinner, this time manually-mashed potatoes and carrots, Tom would put a tiny bit more of the sleeping drug into her when required, to keep her speech from becoming violent and messy.
Carefully watching the stream of words down below to ensure that the bowl did not overflow Tom swapped it out for a new one when Mona’s babblings had become too much for the container to handle.
--
Since the stream of vile substance that leaked out of the stupid animal’s hole seemed to be the only thing it understood, and it was only fitting that the nasty stuff be put back into its rightful place, (Mona had bubbled it out, but no one wanted to hear what she had to say) Tom began to feed her again, this time from the bowl of steaming brown girl-waste, hoping that maybe if he gave her a taste of how odious her rear hole’s speech was maybe it would shut up.
Mona’s mouth balked a bit at this foul new intrusion but with the her mind muddled by the drug a forceful push was all that was needed for Tom to broach her defenses and deposit the offal in her protesting oral orifice.
--
Holding his breath (for more than one reason) Tom watched nervously, not sure if the natural inclination of the semi-conscious girl coupled with the ‘training’ he had been giving her for the past half hour would do the trick.
A few awful moments passed as the food just sat in Mona’s mouth before finally, with a slight tip back of her head from Tom, she started to slowly chew it and swallow it. “Good girl, goo-ood girl, yes she is, she’s a good girl, oh yes she is.”
Tom cooed at his prize as he continued to feed her more of her waste. The new bowl down below was starting to fill and Tom hurried to finish feeding her the contents of her first bowl of sludge. “Who’s my good girl, who’s my good girl, there it is, there it is, eat it all gone, yes it does, it eats its words doesn’t it? Doesn’t it, yes it does, that’s a good girl, she eats the nasty stuff that comes out of her mouth, that’s a GOOD Girl.”
--
Mona balked again as Tom put two spoonfuls in quickly one after another and he had to tilt her head back and wait for her to gag. She coughed a bit but then chewed and swallowed the load. Impressed by the success of the process so far Tom had nevertheless jumped back for fear of her vomiting.
Being more careful and taking it slow, to better savor this new form of domination of the dim bimbo, Tom took the second bowl and swapped it with the first again. The first bowl soon became the third and before long Tom could see signs that he was being given twice-processed food out of the young ladies ever-performing ass.
Happy to see her making such progress Tom petted Mona’s head as he began to feed her some of her waste which she had already eaten on its previous trip.
Slowly, over time, her digestive system began to scrounge more and more nutrients and mass out of the excrement before, after several passes through her throat, stomach, and intestines Tom was collecting only condensed waste from the squatting shit spewer.
--
Recording the entirety of Mona’s transformation on his camcorder for posterity Tom contemplated what to do with the ultra processed waste, super condensed excrement that was now coming out of the cheeky young thing.
Having played out just now every scene in the play that he had dreamt up earlier, while on the plane with Mona, and exhausted all of his toys from his bag, Tom began to entertain thoughts of permanent ownership, perhaps kidnapping.
Just as he was considering how best to sneak her off of the train there came a slight rustle at the entryway to the car.
Chapter 6: You have only 10 seconds left to control this
unit
Prepared for such a contingency (a train agent poking into the car) Tom acted natural (since he had moved Mona into the bathroom at the start of her ‘toilet training’) and stood up, flushing the toilet as though he had just finished on the loo and then walked nonchalantly out into the main cabin, a rumpled newspaper in his hand for effect.
Whistling tunelessly Tom turned to regard the person now unlocking and entering the car, a decidedly different looking man than he was expecting. Instead of a helpful train agent Tom was confronted by a coolly dressed, hurried individual, perhaps a man looking for his suitcase.
--
Still, not wanting to seem plussed, and certainly not wanting to say ‘See here my good man, I’ve bought all of the tickets for this car so piss off” since first off, it would be rude, and secondly it would be suspicious, Tom crossed his legs and concerned himself with the paper, palming the spoon he had forgotten to leave in the bathroom.
Since the man did not seem to be going away Tom smiled up at the stranger and started to say “Can I help you my dear Sir?” The suited fellow had already neared Tom and quickly placed a gloved hand behind Tom’s head, cradling it deftly as his other hand cut off the beginning of Tom’s sentence with an expertly fired silenced handgun.
‘Catching’ the bullet in the Kevlar glove of the hand cradling Tom’s head, the SDM agent rolled out a bodybag and then a second one as he answered Tom’s previous train of thought: The simplest way to take a body off a train is with the aid of several other men, (now pouring in) a working knowledge of butcher shop mechanics, and the use of several large pieces of luggage. Mona, of course, would finish her train ride in peace.
Mona dozed prettily, making one last deposit into her bowl while the men in the car tidied up and reset the compartment to resemble the way it did before Mona had been drugged. Putting her sleeping form into the shower the men bathed her and then re-dressed her. Careful pains were made to re-apply her make-up to its previous state, leaving her to awake exactly where she had left off earlier, with a freshly delivered meal and a full bottle of (untouched) spring water.
--
A small hidden wall camera had been monitoring the compartment since Mona had borded (using a ticket purchased for her by the SDM ensured that they would know where she would be.) Tom’s earlier actions on the plane had been noted by an agent as well but no action had been taken as it had seemed harmless and a plane was hardly the place for discreet action.
The man’s actions on board the train however, devaluing the goods and practically mocking the SDM (albeit while ignorant of the fact that Mona was ‘spoken for’), merited punitive actions.
Tom’s ‘theatre’ would have been cut short earlier but the agents had been delayed while in customs (as traveling with weapons sometimes does) before getting onto the train. Still, the enrollment of Mona as a freshman student at the SDM would continue as planned.
Chapter 7: Mona’s Education, or, Turning Wild Willful
Women into Lavish, Laden Ladies
Getting off the train Mona yawned, a bit tired after her nap on the plane. She was so nervous that she had not eaten. Oddly enough though, she felt wide awake and hungry when she had gotten on the train. Here she was getting off and she felt very full and had slept most of the way. Oh well, probably just butterflies in her stomach.
She was so excited she was finally here! It had been so boring on the airplane and then the train, it seemed all she had done was sleep (probably jetlag, she decided, she had heard that that affects people who travel somehow.) “Anyway, no need to worry about all that,” she smiled, admiring her pretty self in the mirror and re-applying her lips and cheek make-up with her wine-red lipstick. “I look so pretty, and I can’t wait I am so excited, I am going to start my first day at the elite and prestigious Samuel Kline’s school today!”
--
Normally a traveler needs a passport to travel across
international boundaries. Mona didn’t
know about those sorts of things, though if she had been more worldly she would
have wondered why it had not been checked when she had arrived in
Instead, she was quite content to primp and preen herself in her compact mirror and wave at the man who was holding a card with her name on it when she got out of the train station. Dumbly she hopped into the limousine, all oodles of girlish giggles and excitement, she felt like a queen at how she was treated. Already she was starting to feel like a starlet.
--
Settling down into the plush interior of the limo she checked her invitation letter again, noting the special instructions for newly accepted students, she had made sure to take only her make-up and toiletries with her as the letter had said, she put a little check next to that. But, the second item, she hadn’t done that yet. Looking around she spied it, a clipboard had been placed into the back area with her and it had a ‘student check-in’ form that included questions about her and some questions about what kind of roommate she would want.
Without thinking any of the questions strange (since here she was being pampered and was sliding into her role as a young woman whom the world was being delivered to) she happily answered them, distracted by the opulence of her surroundings and the wording of the questions, which made it seem as though the institution were fawning over her every need.
In fact while she was being asked for her favorite types of food, favorite color, favorite activities, ways she spent her leisure time, type of roommate she desired, whether she liked to have cigarettes or etc. what was really being mined from the pretty little head of the girl were her dislikes. Her time in the limo was also an opportune time for potential clients to see the unmolded girl (for indeed she would be modeled) in order to place an order and set his preferences.
Once the ‘student sign-in’ had been filled out the data gathered from it could be used to customize a thoroughly unpleasant stay for the young maiden. If she were a non-smoker she could have smoke blown in her face until eventually she would start to become addicted to nicotine. The process could be helped along with patches but it was more enjoyable to watch them squirm and try to avoid the billowing clouds.
Eventually most girls would smoke, and then have that addiction controlled so as to make them more dependent on their caretakers. The students would have their favorite foods prepared for them by expert chefs; SDM employed expert nutritionists, and if the girls behaved well they might be rewarded with a glimpse of their favorite food, which would then most likely be eaten in front of them.
Most importantly though, are the questions which are not answered, (for they are all listed as optional.) If a girl doesn’t answer questions about her sexuality this usually indicates that she is a virgin, or inexperienced at least. After the form is completed a better client matchup can be made for the young girl. Samuel Kline, in his wisdom, dictated that each girl, having successfully completed divulging her preferences of lifestyle and her desires for her future life, should be made to live her life in a perfect dystopia of what her ideal world would look like. Furthermore, whenever possible, she should be matched up with a client whom she found the most personally repulsive.
Thus, as Mona filled in that she was not into girls, left blank the question about whether or not she had ever made love, and, as even her distracted mind began to grow reluctant to answer, slowly answered the next few questions on what type of man she would be most interested in (but, like, why would they need to know that?) the list of clients who her ‘model profile’ would be made available to changed and dwindled to include only the most cruel, depraved and physically unattractive men the ‘school’ serviced. (Mona had indicated that she was looking for a kind, caring, loving and handsome man. She added, “Someone who will sweep me off my feet and take care of me, someone who will adore me and worship the ground I walk on.”
While the first part of her additional statement was true, that her eventual owner would sweep her off her feet (literally, as she would eventually be extremely light and easy to carry) and he would take care of her and adore her, she would most certainly not be walking anymore and the only worshiping of her he would be doing was in the form of lavishing attention and sick new gifts in the form of upgrades for his darling toy girl.
--
That being said, Mona squealed with delight as the door was opened for her and she stepped out onto a red carpet which led into her new home, the SDM. “Welcome to Samuel Kline’s School for Darling Models,” the doorman said to her in his most pleasant tone.
The airhead stopped in her bounce, “I thought it was called the School for Dream Modeling.” The doorman flashed her his best smile and beckoned her inside the heavy doors.
“Oh it is, it is. I misspoke. Pardon, Madam.” As the girl walked into the foyer the bellhop bowed low before her and when she turned to face him the doorman deftly injected her with a slight hypodermic from behind and she slumped into the bellhop’s waiting arms.
“It is also called the Society for the Diminishing Mind, Diminishing Model, and Diminishing Meal,” he joked cruelly to the temporarily paralyzed and freshly horrified young woman. The agent he had injected her with was infinitely more sophisticated than the one that the clumsy Tom had used on her previously. She retained full awareness of her surroundings and even now her eyes stared in fear as she was dragged onto an elevator, which chimed happily every floor as they sank lower and lower into the bowels of her new home.
Chapter 8: Proper Proportions
The Society has come a long way since its formation. Its powerbase has grown and its influences can be seen in modern culture. Its rich members all share the same tastes as the visionary Samuel Kline (during his life the ideal of female beauty was more Rubenesque.)
The SDM has attracted quite a following of powerful members, and has spread its edification processes into main stream media. It now offers a full line of cosmetics, hosts a TV channel for girls concerned with fashion and body image, as well as offering a full range of print publications all espousing the Klinesian ideal.
Moreover, the modern face of the SDM hides the burgeoning capabilities of its true work. In keeping with the times and technology it has acquired not just the use of the media to forward its ideology, but also the more practical mastery of medical and pharmaceutical technology as well.
--
The modern incarnation of the Society would make Samuel Kline proud. It now offers a full plethora of member services. It now acts as an institution which has grown, from providing a place for gatherings to show off and discuss one’s wives and concubines, to a full fledged clearinghouse for powerful men who want access to late-stage models. The modern SDM acts in one sense as factory, having its students, or ‘product’ undergo fantastic procedures to bring its members the finest in contemporary beauty.
--
To get a better idea of just how much progress the Society has achieved since its inception, consider this: A normal, healthy woman has a good amount of fat and pudge to her, this is because her body is naturally supposed to be a vessel for a baby at some stage and an extremely skinny girl can hardly support her own self with such a small amount of needed fat, much less a second, growing life.
Nevertheless the developed world has eaten up (with the SDM’s help, of course) the media’s images of undernourished models and actresses. The Society’s goals, as set forth in its charter, clearly act to leverage its enormous financial resources to subtly and secretly further that norm in mass media, encouraging women to greater frailty and hardship in order to maintain a figure that is unnatural and artificial.
The members of the SDM enjoy seeing an extremely waif thin girl, put out of her normal diet and suffering greatly to maintain a ridiculously emaciated carriage.
It brings a touch of joy to any card-carrying SDM member every time a girl nervously excuses herself after even a small meal of carrots and salad, running to the bathroom in her high heels, and guiltily evacuates her stomach in shame, throwing up the food she had eaten.
Of course, a well trained girl should not succumb to such temptation, and would instead simply sit at the table and make light conversation while her male handler or owner eats a hearty meal, herself abstaining from food so that she will maintain a more pleasing form for her male companion (and never taste the pleasures of cuisine again.)
--
Typically, finished SDM products have empty stomachs. Their skin hangs on their bones (until tightened up with surgical tucks), their emaciated ribcages are displayed proudly in their revealing bikinis.
The men put a hand around their waists and can carry them without difficulty, although it is necessary to be gentle with them as they bruise easily.
--
Girls still in school work hard to get their weight down. 103, then 99, then 86, until finally reaching the bare minimum they need to survive . . . Feeling dizzy most of the time, and walking in slow, uncertain steps, they stumble their way towards graduation, only to have an additional burden thrust into them: Graduating models are granted the parting gift of large fake chest implants.
These implants are necessary because the normally buxom bosom of a healthy woman suffers greatly under the SDM regimen. A graduating model will have a greatly deflated chest, just skin and bones with small buds of nipples poking out.
The completed product looks greatly artificial therefore, the large torpedoes jut out from a super-stretched chest cavity. Every smiling model’s back is strained by these overfilled anchors. Some models become giddy with relief when the regimen is finally over, and despite the hardship and starvation skip giddily up the graduation aisle to receive their diploma and promise of freedom. They believe what they have been told; that so long as they follow their instructions and mold themselves into perfect models they will be successful and independent, becoming rich and famous as countless others have before them.
Little do they know what awaits them at the end, the unseen up until this point patron who has been paying for all of the student’s ‘education’ introduces himself and claims his property. The ritual of implanting the girl’s chest is drawn out so that she understands that she is being fitted with what effectively become ball and chain.
Where before she might have been able to be a real model, appearing on covers and TV, the hideously large implants scream to the world that she is a freak, a sex object and a toy (which, of course, has been her true destiny all along.) Furthermore, the weight of the cumbersome things, and many girls shudder when they wake up to see the large, fake mounds mocking them with their overt artificiality, secure the woman into her docile role.
Where before she might have skipped, jumped and ran, now, with these weights securely where they belong, the teetering sextoy can only put a hand to her lower back and stagger forward, forever dependant on a man for assistance in any long walk.
--
Even now a graduating model is squealing with delight as she is handed her diploma and the promise of her bright future. All of these months and months of self-sacrifice are finally about to pay off:
When next she wakes she screams in horror at the new companions jutting lewdly from her violated front. Crying loudly in terror up at the smiling doctor and her patron she thrashes about on the bed, wanting to tear the obscene things from her chest.
The doctor shakes his finger at her disapprovingly but does nothing to stop her as the girl soon realizes that her hands are bound to her sides.
Screaming loudly and shaking uncontrollably the young woman’s world comes crashing down, her jolly patron laughs at her plight, happy to see that his money is not unappreciated. Reaching forward to caress her most prominent feature, and unable to repel his unwanted advances, the young model’s newly minted tits are mauled by the large man. Signing for the work that was done, and continuing to enjoy the distressingly overfilled nature of the obviously artificial silicone tits the man pets his new love’s hard, dead mammories and traces the large circumference with his fingers.
Mewling like a wounded animal the outraged woman screams at the violation of her carefully crafted body, the thin body she had worked so hard to create so that she could gain advantage from. Instead, reduced to a pleasant image and topheavy sexojbect for this man’s pleasure, the perverted body of the trapped girl is scheduled for continued ‘maintenance.’ Any sag in her skin will be tightened with tucks as she is forced to lose still more precious ounces from her frame. The plan is to keep her at an ‘ideal weight’ while she sweats, exercises and suffers to lose those ounces: every portion of a pound she takes off will be made up with the addition of still more silicone.
Hearing her miserable future laid out for her like this, the helplessly objectified maiden bursts into tears. Her patron struts up to her and cooingly wipes the falling tears from her face: “There there, there there girl,” he says, his large, rough hands gripping her mouth before sticking a meaty finger into it to silence and further inspect his new property. The removal of her teeth is the subject of the men’s next discussion.
Chapter 9: Freshman Year
Graduation comes to all aspiring young models in good time . . . the young Mona is just now beginning her introductions to the society, and it would be a shame to spoil the moment with tales of other girls’ ends.
Let us join her again as she is led into an underground operating room, dimly lit and occupied by several muscular men smoking cigars (all potential sponsors.) A doctor patiently prepares off to the side, readying the girl and his instruments for the ‘re-birthing’ procedures she is about to undergo. A few of them are standard and required and he gets right into those, but for the rest he waits on the verdict from the highest bidder among the seated clients, The molding of the bright, lucid, and helpless young girl, physically paralyzed and additionally restrained, starts with a simple cut.
--
The fully conscious Mona stares in shock at the scalpel. “Please, please stop, oh god no!” her paralyzed lips try to say, instead moving very prettily in imperceptible tremors; A very light, hoarse whisper escapes from her throat. Taking out a sonic ‘ear,’ a cushioned electronic piece of equipment (a sort of enveloping headphone used to capture sound) and placing it over the young girl’s mouth, the doctor returns to the initial standard procedures he is now performing.
The smoking clients murmur in pleasure as their headphones receive the amplified screams of the young girl and the doctor has perfect silence as he gingerly begins his first cut into the belly of the unanaesthetized girl. Taking his time, both to allow the clients to better enjoy her suffering (they smile as her screams turn to whimpering, and then sharp shouts and painful, ragged breathing) and to ensure that the young dear does not go into shock or, Kline forbid, pass out.
--
Having performed this delicate maneuver many times in the past, the experienced doctor proceeds perfectly to puncture her abdomen and reduce the capacity of her stomach. This procedure is in fact very similar to one introduced in mainstream medicine not long ago, the difference being that its technique was pioneered by the SDM and its exercise intended to be performed upon perfectly healthy young women who simply eat too much. By SDM standards this is to say all healthy young women.
Whistling to himself lightly as he worked, the doctor clamped, sutured, and stitched as necessary to bind the girl’s stomach, allowing it only a ridiculously diminished (10%) portion of its previous capacity. Since this allowed him a great deal of play (within that whopping 90% of ‘unnecessary capacity’) he liked to vary the specific form of the surgery to employ his artistic tastes: This time he made a gorgeous butterfly drawing in Mona’s stomach as he worked, using the linework to cut off the larger portion of her stomach from the newly formed ‘minuet’ stomach that would now serve her for the rest of her life.
Finishing the simple operation in the fashion common for all SDM doctors (and to ensure quality control) the doctor brands his initials into the soft internal flesh, noting as he does that the girl finally passes out, which is just as well, a buyer had just been announced.
Finishing his work and sewing the young girl back up (in a manner which would leave only the faintest ‘birthing’ scar) the doctor turned to the girl’s new owner. At first glance the new owner appeared to be a decidedly odd fellow, and, upon further inspection, was probably a new member. The Doctor frowns after a moment, there is something unpleasant about the man, but when he sees that the girl’s new owner has come prepared, drawing out a pair of hand-inked blueprints, the doctor lightens up.
--
What is odd about the complicated instructions is that most patrons prefer to keep their girls relatively normal looking, so that they will still think that they will be returned to a regular life afterwards: That after all of the trauma and hardship they have suffered, that the whole ordeal really was for their benefit. Their dream of being a rich and famous model or actress is what the ultimate goal of the school, despite its extreme measures, is all about. To take away that dream just doesn’t seem prudent: A girl informed of her doom by radical permanent procedures resists more.
--
Assuring the good doctor that this was all according to plan, and that “We do things a little differently back home,” the strange new owner continues to roll out the carefully drawn blueprints. Once the plans are fully unfurled the doctor makes out the ornate monogram of ‘A.S.’ in their lower left corner.
From them, the doctor executes the latest of Alex Streuth’s designs:
-Reduction of calf muscles to create a permanent arch of the foot, thus ensuring the wearing of high heels (and mincing steps) at all times. [The doctor nods impatiently, this is a typical operation.]
-Full body liposuction (of course) to remove the, shudder, fatty tissue from the girl’s body which is antithesis to the final goals for her form. The ‘soft’ parts of the girl (her ass and tits) will of course be replaced with generous amounts of silicone, ensuring that while she will eventually become a slender and completely artificial Barbie doll her owner will still enjoy some cushioning. [Ok, not bad, still, the doctor had seen it before.]
-An increase in chest size up from her meager starting
proportions to the much more appealing (and much heavier) 28EE. [Unusual timing but still, typical.]
1 See footnote for breast measurement
reference
-Electrolysis of her whole body (including her head.) [This will be slow, tedious, and painful but on the whole, not that original, the doctor concluded.]
-The fitting of her head for doll wigs, the surgical mounting of a fastening station to the top of her cranium, allowing wigs to be quickly and securely mounted or unmounted from her skull. Once fastened the wigs may bounce up and down a little (showing their obvious artificiality) but never come off until they are unattached from this mount. The wig can be maneuvered to rotate around on the fastening pivot, so that, in the case of rough sex or treatment, the hair can become ‘mussed.’ [Hmm, this is new.]
-A permanent staining of the lips and cheeks (in smart, doll-like ovals) to a garish deep red hue [This is cruel, but not that creative, since the girl looked almost like this already when she came in.]
-The permanent staining in powder turquoise of her face around her eyes (in large, prominent circles.) [Again, the girl was a slut when we found her.]
-The implantation of a collagen o-ring to her lips, and the ‘tucking’ of her lower lip up into her mouth to give her a permanent, exaggerated pout. [Now this, the tucking, I have not seen that before.]
-The piercing of both of her ears in 3 more places
-The piercing of her lower lip in 3 places (on the bottom right, middle, and bottom left)
-The piercing of her cheek to give her a ‘beauty mark’ [Ornamentation is nothing new.]
-The piercing of the bone and tiny bit of loose skin to the direct outside of her eye sockets (think eyebrow but a little lower and just to the outside of the eye’s orbit.) These create a very secure mounts in her skull. [Hmmm, I wonder what these are for.]
-The piercing of her septum and the insertion of a large fat hoop with a small bell or ‘Cow’s Ring’ through this piercing. [A personal favorite, but not the kind of thing you do until after the girl is graduated.]
-Insertion of small rings into each of her lip and eye piercings and large gaudy hoops into her ears. [Ok, I can see where we are going with this.]
-The threading of baubled chain through the lip piercings to then loop up through the eye socket piercings and then fasten to the Cow’s Ring in her septum:
This ensures that any opening of the mouth causes an uncomfortable outward tug on the eyes and the upward tug and chiming of the Cow Bell. Furthermore, she will have the least discomfort when her jaw movements are small and slow.
If she were to try to open her mouth all of the way she would have throbbing temple pain and her nose ring would flip up to rest on top of her nose. Each of her jaw movements (talking, chewing) will be small and slow, she will seem stupid in her speech, and talking will be uncomfortable. Over time she will talk less and less, and her eating will resemble that of a cow, chewing its cud. [The surgeon stares dumbfounded… this is extremely elegant, yes, I can see it now, the whole design is minimal yet ensures a large, slow change in the subject’s attitude…]
The surgeon gives Alex an appraising look, then, reading further down the document, realizes that he is looking at the work of an artist: he considers the ‘final touch’ surgeries, as the design blueprint call them. He turns to Alex, and then, after pausing a moment, breaks into a grin and says “This will be a pleasure to carry out.”
--
With Mona fully aware of the proceedings, the ‘final touch’ surgeries begin:
-Amputation of her fingers at the first knuckle (giving her adorable stub digits) and the amputation of her entire toes (lending her feet an elegant, muted beauty.)
Of course before the piercings and fastenings can be secured onto her face the surgeon has to come through and raise her cheekbones, tuck her face, and make her nose more pert and button-like.
Additionally her cheeks are stretched and tucked again to give her a strained, permanent doll-like smile and her teeth are removed. The stretching of her face is such that, at rest, her lips cannot close all of the way, instead drooling prettily down her stupid face. Whenever she ‘opens’ her mouth to talk, which causes a tug on her eyes and the cowbell to interrupt her speech, her gums splay lewdly and fishlike out of her mouth.
--
The denuded creature, after modification but without any accoutrements, resembles a freakish sea-creature. With a nude head and bulging, contorted face, she seems to be a fish out of water, her vacuous mouth dripping moisture and sucking air in like a gasping sucking pufferfish. Her fingers are crude, and her feet muted specimens.
Lain on her back she cannot get up, the weight of her heavy tits confine her to the ground. (They have been steadily increased to a much more fitting proportion.) Additionally, during the weeks that these surgeries have been happening and then healing her muscles have atrophied through their confinement and disuse. She has been kept on a special gruel diet that gives her only the barest of nutrients and entices her body to frailty and subtle health.
Chapter 10: Prom Night
Her handlers enter the room to clothe her. She is finally ready to graduate to an upperclassman. Dressing her in a frilly schoolgirl uniform, all lace and latex, and securing her into a fetching, waist crunching corset (to accent her already extremely skinny waist.)
Her chest is covered by a translucent gossamer cloth. Her tits are extremely visible and jut out into the cover, raising it up so that her ribs stand naked underneath, her ribcage’s sparse nature open to inspection by passersby.
A set of ‘lady’s gloves’ are fastened over her stumped digits, these artificial hands are made for clasping each other and are incapable of movement. They effectively lock what little movement her reduced fingers have left into mannequin prisons and take away any sensory ability that they might have had.
--
Her feet are clad in shiny, black, adorable clunky Mary Jane heels, replete with white knee socks and a buckle fastener. She is stood up and held while the buckles are securely fastened into place (with cute little locks) to ensure that the shoes will not come off. Her toeless feet are pressed down into the shoes, like prisoners, lacking any real ability to lift the slightly oversized shoes. With her nonexistent toes, all ‘lifting’ of the heavy shoes will have to be done with the ankles. Thus, as she tries to walk, she is forced to lift the heavy shoes up with her ankles as though carrying a dead weight.
--
Her chest is ‘fluffed’ for public viewing. Its jutting size is preened and positioned in a dainty fashion (the greater majority of the ‘posing’ that Mona can now do, with her diminished mobility, is through the jut of her tit. The only real maneuvering that she can manage (without falling over) is to pose her tits in different positions, although the shifts are very minute they can denote her ‘serious look’ when they are straight and center, or her ‘quizzical look’ where one is slightly off to the left, or her often used ‘dopey’ look where one is slightly higher than the other.)
--
Alex walks in and surveys his beauty, carefully gripping one of her mannequin arms he moves it up and down in imitation of shaking her hand “Pleased to meet you,” he says.
Mona stares daggers at him and tries her best to hit his arm away with her limp extremity. “You look very pretty my dear, very ladylike” Alex laughs as he compliments her on her appearance. Mona narrows her eyes in hatred for this man who (as far as she can tell) is responsible for everything that has happened to her since she got here.
--
Just recently Alex had ‘topped off’ her chest by upgrading his lovely doll up to the punitive 42J measurement she currently sports. As he talks to her Alex maintains firm eye contact with her tits, considering them the main feature and center of her being as far as he is concerned. Savoring them, focusing on them as he continues to interact with the maiden he makes sure she understands where the true ‘weight’ of her attraction lies, where her true value and assets lie. While he occasionally will glance up at her lewdly stained face to made sure that the emotions in her eyes are fresh and gratifyingly angry, seething or fearful, mostly he just stared at her beautifully entrancing tits, intent on upgrading them as much as possible while here.
Planning on eventually moving them back to Cherish to show them off Alex wants to get as much of their growth done as possible while out of town so as to avoid paying through the nose at the end of the year when ‘property growth’ is assessed. He was happy that, so far at least, a ‘captial gains’ tax had not yet been levied, as that would make his return with 42lbs. of new assets (the value residing solely in her tits) tight on the pocketbook.
--
Oftentimes he will come in to ‘check’ on her, not saying a word or looking at anything other than her chest. He will measure them and weigh them, cooing over them and fondling them, treating them like an entire person. He treats them like babies who were born the day that Mona first underwent the knife at SDM. He takes their height and weight and congratulates them on how much they’ve grown since the last time he saw them. This infuriates the hell out of Mona, who will sometimes try to interrupt his focused zeal by shouting things at him or cursing him but since this requires opening her mouth (an uncomfortable process) and being interrupted by the chiming cowbell she mostly juts makes guttural garbage sounds out of her restricted mouth.
When Mona does this, making gurgling or dumbly plaintive sounds out of her lolling mouth, she tries her best not to strain her eyes by opening her mouth too wide. Therefore she communicates through the hole made by her stretched lips that naturally hang apart a tiny bit when at rest, due to skin tucks her face has endured. Alex will generally ignore this mewling for awhile. If she continues in this manner he patronizingly ‘rewards’ her for ‘doing a trick’ by pushing a dog-treat into her mouth, which, as much as Mona would like to spit it out in disgust, not wanting to passively allow him to compare her to a dog, constitutes a significant amount of additional diet she would not otherwise get.
As loathe as she is to do this she obediently gums and then swallows the cardboard tasting treat. She usually is quiet for awhile after that, not wanting Alex to get another opportunity to turn her frustrated and angrily plaintive vocals into another opportunity to reward her for ‘begging’ like a bitch.
--
To return to Alex’s pet project, the size and growth of his babies, Mona’s ever increasing chest: Since the most recent upgrade Mona’s weight had shifted (as she continued to lose fractions of an ounce through surgery and a heavily restrictive diet) so that a full 1/3 of her weight now resides in her gorgeously artificial super stretched chest racks.
The fact that this caused an immense burden on the girl, who, after Alex’s most recent ‘feeding of his babies’ had been left with about 40lbs. of titmass to deal with. This change in her proportions caused her to need to lean backwards about 7 inches in order to maintain her new center of balance. Alex smiled at his ‘growing young girls’, who stared back at him from their ‘at attention’ position at the most prominent point on Mona’s bent back body. “You’re doing well guys, you’re growing up so fast I don’t know what to say… I’m proud of you.” The gorgeously disproportioned body in front of him was enough to bring a tear of joy to his eye
--
Still, enough of that, he would have time for it later, for now, there was the matter of taking his leading lady out to the prom:
“Well,” Alex says, putting an arm around her cinched waist and spinning her about so that her back faces him, her burdened form leaning into him for support. Effortlessly he put his arms around her chest so that each of his hands holds onto the soft jutting sides of his beautiful creature. His prize offering no resistance to his advances other than a ‘gurk,’ he yanks her back further to him as he asks rhetorically, “Shall we dance?”
--
The next few minutes are like bliss to Alex:
He ignored the stunning creature before him and instead focused on the feel of the bloated tits he was groping from around the back of Mona’s body. Not bringing her in for a full embrace, in order to keep himself at a ‘respectable’ distance during this ‘formal’ dance, Alex instead gripped the spherical bosoms, which jutted out a pleasant distance sideways from Mona’s helpless body. Savoring their view from behind her, cradling them as though holding the waist of a normal girl, Alex led Mona in a soft sway.
Slow-dancing with Mona, intent on the delightful feel and weight of her beautiful chest, and keeping her feet basically in the same place, Alex swiveled her around as he danced in a circle. Eventually he spun the beauty around so that he could ‘talk to her face’ again. Smiling down at her tits, talking to her nipples, Alex said “My you’re a fine dancer, you’ve got me exhausted after that number, don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’ve got two left tits.” His face grinning at his mockery of the degraded girl, sneaking a brief glance at her face to catch her cold hard seething gaze back at him he took out a bottle of breath freshener and spritzed it into his mouth.
Smiling back down at the cleavage again he spritzed the minty liquid into the prized ravine between her mounds, treating it like a mouth. He then leaned in with puckered lips to kiss the top of the tit chasm, tonguing it as though French-kissing a reciprocating mouth, thanking the ‘maiden’ for a lovely evening.
--
Not wanting to have to part from his lovely time with his ‘girls’ Alex nevertheless adopted a business-like air and turned to regard the fuming young lady in front of him. It was time for her introduction to behavioral training.
--
Alex easily bends her precarious body forward, her eyes widening in horror, sounds of ‘nah, nah’ (Her way of saying ‘no’ out of that cute mouth of hers) causing little bits of spittle to fly off of her pretty collagened lips. If at any moment he lets go she will topple forward. Holding her there for a moment Alex savors her terror and helplessness as her arms flail at the air, then he lets go, watching her fall forward, screaming, to crumple like a ragdoll. As she falls she cries out, her drooling, toothless mouth agape in shock and fear, she knows what is coming next, the special torture for losing her composure.
Her fall is cut short, painfully, as she lands on her double airbags and the wind is knocked out of her. The heavily implanted tits take the full force of the short fall. The force isn’t that great given the girl’s rapidly diminishing weight and the lack of a hard push on Alex’s part, but nevertheless the girl cringes as her body is splayed onto the hard plastic things, they aren’t much comfort at all, more importantly she can tell that the punishment implants aren’t going to be too happy about being so rudely awakened.
--
Alex presses his booted foot onto the felled girl’s back, the pressure on her being transferred to her large, hard tits. The girl cringes and braces herself, steeling her composure, forcing herself to take it, not wanting to give Alex the satisfaction he is eagerly awaiting. She knows full well the immense pain that she is about to endure, this is one of Alex’s favorite games. The girl’s largely plastic tits are very unyielding, in fact, only a very small part of them squish as this pressure is applied, the newly added ‘posture implants.’
Crying out in pain, this subtle, more insistent torture activates. As Streuth pushes down on the young lady her tits cause the small sacs (the punishment implants) nestled next to the silicone implant to squirt out its precious cargo into the girl’s surrounding teat. Moments later starbursts of pain rock the girl’s huge fake mounds, her torment is about to begin.
--
The girl’s tits, normally filled with just silicone implants have had a second, smaller implant added next to the bust increasing one. This is what the chest of the girl looked like:
The skin covered her fatty tissue, but this had been removed and replaced with a huge silicone implant. At the front of the tit, where her areole were, the smaller implant had been positioned, so that her jutting spheres took on an extra bulge at the front, actually making it look like she just had large fat nipples. In fact these ‘large nipples’ were small implants that were refillable via a small, sealed hole at the entrance to this gorgeously designed woman’s compromised chest.
This small implant’s bladder had been filled with a special cocktail put together by non other than the Dr. Spencer back in good ole Cherish Valley “Seems fairly simple, you want something that will burn, like acid, but without causing any actual damage and will run its course in a matter of minutes.”
The implants that the girl had received were very special, if you squished them as could be done easily by squeezing her nipples, (or by her falling on her tits) then they squirted their substance into the surrounding tissue. Intense pain followed, like having a million tiny fiberglass shards all poking into this very sensitive area.
Thus, Mona’s twin tits had become dual posture trainers and punishment centers. While her tits were large and hard, and for the most part hardy silicone, this small, innocuous bulge at the front of her tit was soft, and could be squeezed like a turkey baster. If she were to bump into something it would not be so bad, a moment of cringing pain. But if she were to lose her balance she would fall, and that would be like having a sharp whip flayed over tits that were already sore and sensitive.
--
Right now, as Streuth pushed down onto the screaming girl, his foot forcefully demanding full and rapid release of all of the substance, the pain was building in intensity.
Whereas if her nipples had been slowly rubbed, therefore causing only a small, slow leak of tolerable pain this stabbing motion caused the sacs to squirt the substance hard and fast into her, like a knife stabbing painfully into her bosom.
Within moments the pain had become unbearable, Streuth smiled in glorious triumph as the girl, who had up until this point maintained a dignified defiance towards him, tried in vain to clutch at her fiercly burning chest. Her deafening screams were unintelligible and guttural as she gave in to her animal side, losing all sense of propriety. Her suffering intense and animalistic, this is what her chest felt like:
Imagine that her tits were sitting regularly on her chest, huge and unaware of the threat about to be visited on them. Lounging around, lolling about, luxuriating in their large melonlike stature, hard and fake, they stare out dumbly towards the observer.
Seconds later a gun is fired into them, a searing hot bullet of corrosive acid tears through the soft tissue and begins burning at the insides. The smell of burnt flesh wafts on the air as the silicone melts out of the dribbling fleshsacs and the nerves dance about frenetically sending messages of extreme pain to the girl’s brain, demanding that intense trauma is happening and for it to be addressed immediately, a havoc-filled chaos of burning mammories and searing flesh.
This is exactly what the nerves thought was happening, it felt like a heavy-weight boxer had punched her in the stomach, and then, when she had doubled over, hit her with an uppercut to the tits. Finally, splayed out on her back (in this analogy) the boxer takes off his pants and pisses down onto her large boobs, the burning, scalding piss causing her flesh to bubble and sizzle.
The only difference between these scenarios and what is actually happening is that the girl’s chest is perfectly fine, no injury had happened; a small amount of viscous fluid had just squirted out of the nipple’s bladder, that’s all. She was writhing in agony but had suffered no intense physical trauma: Once her chest sac was refilled she could be forced to endure more with no lasting (physiological) damage.
--
“You can make this infinitely easier on yourself, but I really hope you choose to refuse my offer.” Mona, despite her pain, ignored Alex’s words, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Alex walked around to the girl’s front and unzipped his pants, mocking her with his large languid cock, teasing her with the fact that, while unspoken, in order to accept his offer to make things easier on her he fully expected her to ‘suck up to him.’
--
Alex yawned and looked down lazily at the doomed girl, really it was a shame, he had hoped that she would put up more of a fight. Still, while she seemed to be resisting now, he knew that she would bend to his design, sooner or later, all that remained now was some methodical ‘twisting of the screws.’
Women are weak and easily molded creatures, he mused. The only way to improve them is to create ever better designs. While their base nature prohibits them from the higher things in life, which only man was destined for, by molding them more to man’s liking and forcing them into his ever greater designs, woman can be made to ‘see the light.’
--
The defiant Mona tried to heft herself up, to try to escape the pain by taking the pressure of lying face down on the floor off of her abused tits. It didn’t seem possible though, not physically possible, the weight was too great for her.
Smiling down at her, happy that she had chosen to ignore his offer Alex was eager to try out the mental programming that he had painstakingly provided for his young morsel while she had been unconscious and healing, or just tired and sleeping. Whatever the circumstances, whenever his darling beauty dozed he made sure her dreams were filled with hypnotic suggestion:
Alex snapped his fingers and, in a Herculean effort, as though moved by some unknown impetus, some sort of calling was upon her. Acting on instinct and smell, the pain subsiding as she got up off her tits, she latched on to Alex’s scent, his pheremones filling her nose.
She lifted herself up to her knees, opening her perfect cocksucking lips to accept her place, her neck craning forward to envelop Alex’s Godhead, her body groaning and straining at the effort required to hold that awkward pose.
Her mind wanted to scream that this was wrong, that she should have an independent will, but something pushed that aside and instead acted as if programmed: She lived only for the moment; she tried to push the horrors of the past behind her and cling onto the little comfort offered her in the immediate present.
--
“Throat,” Alex said firmly as the heavily co-opted young girl instinctively fulfilled her base need to find a man to impregnate her. Relaxing her throat, letting go of her ‘self’ she opened her toothless gums, her eyes closed, her body and spirit open to its new place in life. Instinctively she began to deepthroat his divine cock, confident that this was where she needed to be to fulfill her basic biological urge to conceive a child.
Again a voice in her mind poked forward, to remind her that this was not natural, that this man was not making love to her, that she was being used, that she needed to stop. This was all wrong, she thought; this wasn’t where his seed was supposed to go, where a man was supposed to make love to a woman.
She paid this new voice no mind however, her new focus had shifted sfully onto Alex’s cock, she concentrated on pleasuring it with her mouth and throat, letting her mind flutter to a calm, tranquil state.
--
All other thoughts and sensory input were set aside, his cock was her world, she concentrated on it, opening herself up to letting her interaction with it fill her mind and spirit as it filled her mouth. It filled her every immediate input, it was as though she were an extension of it and it was her source of life: she proceeded to hungrily milk Alex’s cock with her obsequious lips, mouth and throat.
--
It didn’t matter that the man whom she was now vigorously deepthroating was also her tormentor and cared little for her interests. Opening her mind and soul up to his penetration, widening her mouth to better accommodate his teachings, Mona gave herself over fully to the suggestions that had been programmed into her in her sleep:
“I exist to suckle from my Master. I exist to serve to please to adore to worship Him. I am a plant, when I am under him I shall be fed and watered that I may grow. The seed he plants in my belly gives me warmth and comfort.”
Some part of her brainwashed mind knew that this was wrong, that this wasn’t spiritual, that this wasn’t holy, but it was hard to think clearly. Alex bucked into her mouth and grunted for a moment as his hot seed hit the back of Mona’s throat, coating it and dripping down lower where she swallowed it dutifully into her stomach, her brainwashed mind smiling at the warm sensation it created, registering fulfillment.
--
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion immediately after she had swallowed, the trigger to ‘snap out of it’ causing her mind to fill immediately with thoughts:
“What am I doing here on my knees,” then “What am I doing with this vile man’s cock in my mouth?” Finally, with dawning revulsion, “What the hell am I swallowing?!”
Having no more need of her Alex squeezed her nipples and the pain subsumed her thoughts temporarily, causing her to loose her grip and fall down again, to endure fresh pain as her abused tits smashed into the floor.
--
Smiling at how well the triggers had worked, Alex left the violated young woman alone in the room to suffer in ignominy. He wiped his leaking cock onto her frilly Promdress’s hem before he walked out and locked the door behind him.
--
Lying in abject misery and degradation, her stomach roiling with his fresh seed, the defeated girl cried at what had become of her life, and screamed in sobbing agony with only the pain in her tits to keep her company. “Why did I give in to him and suck his cock?!” her mind screamed.
Unable to get up she suffered in caterwauling torment until the liquid had run its course and her tit sacs were completely depleted. Her mind, now fully clear, contemplated the question more fully as she broke down into fresh sobs. Unsure as to why she had allowed it to happen she nevertheless vowed angrily that she would never let it happen again.
She would resist and she would fight. She grimaced as she thought of the vile semen that even now was being accepted for digestion by her otherwise empty and gurgling belly. “Never,” she thought, “never again.” Roused in her determination to a more resolute mindset, firm in her resolve and her defiance she narrowed her eyes as she contemplated the vile intruder in her belly.
She tried to stick a finger down her throat to induce vomiting but her plastic fingers were useless to help her. She looked around the room for something else she could gag on, nothing. Furious she swung her head from side to side trying to throw the nasty stuff out of her by sheer force of will.
--
“It must be my plight to digest and process semen.” The thought bobbed up in her mind after several frustrated minutes. Despite her horror and revulsion at the idea she began to consider that it might be true, she would have to suffer his internal defilement of her body without question…
“No,” she said aloud, although it came out more as “Nowh.” She refused to accept this as truth. I am not a toy, she thought! “Ih, amth, noth, ah toyth, Ih amth, noth, ah toyth,” she repeated this mantra over and over, trying to maintain her composure in the face of what she knew had just transpired.
After several moments of trying to maintain this façade she broke down in frustration and angrily clawed at her stomach with her useless hands. After several frantic moments of sportive resistance her body succumbed to the futility of it and gave up, she broke out into fresh sobs.
No matter how much she wanted to resist it, she knew that she had just been used: violated, forced to swallow, and discarded.
Epilogue
Alex walked out of the room into the observation room, watching his plaything suffering physical and mental anguish. Smiling at how easy it was to control her with the post-hypnotic suggestions and brainwashing:
When he had put her into that position of being beneath him, despite her deep hatred for him at that moment, her programming had kicked in, so that, for all intents and purposes she had acted without volition of her own.
“Throat,” had initiated the deepthroating, but also released her some so that she could begin to feel the horror of her position.
When he had filled her belly with his cum it had finished the program and allowed her full control of herself again, allowing the reality of her violation to sink in.
As he watched in amusement the young girl was now cursing his name and vowing to never let it happen again. He watched with pleasure as she struggled to process what had just happened and then broke down into sobs, Alex smiled as he thought of how many other times they would play out this exact same scene.
--
While she might normally try to resist his advances, it mattered very little, he could have that throat anytime he wanted. A few simple phrases would turn his petulant flower into an open reservoir for his seed. He had just ‘planted’ himself in her stomach, but a more subtle planting had taken place, in her mind, she began to get an idea of herself as an object, a thing, to be used and discarded.
She eventually tired of talking to herself and assuring the air around her that it would never happen again: her sore body needing rest, and after she had fallen asleep her tit sacs were refilled and the subliminal messages began playing for her again.
--
It wasn’t a matter of an individual conquest though, the hypnotic suggestions were tricky things, the subject could develop a tolerance to them over time, what mattered was what happened afterwards, when she tried to come to grips with what had just happened, how her body had betrayed her, as she tried to figure out who she really was.
--
No, the trick here was patience. What was desired of her was something that could not be freely given, the slow and gradual wearing down of the girl’s spirit, of her very sense of self.
No sense in conquering just her body, as Tom had done, the deflowering of her physical components didn’t devalue her much in Alex’s eyes, what he sought was a far more subtle and elusive prize.
Over the course of the next three years he intended to mold this girl into the perfect SDM model, one that looked and acted the part. But instead of leading her on through deception he intended to break her self identity, through the repeated degradation of her body and the repeated rape of her spirit.
He wanted to become a mystical creature in her eyes, someone capable of demanding anything from her with no resistance despite her strict avowal to fight and kick at every turn. Eventually her mind would give up on trying to figure out what was real and what was contrived, whether she had ever been a real girl or whether she had simply been an object all along, a pair of girl-sized tits dragging around a body like a handbag.
--
Signing his name to the document Alex excused Mona from the regular schooling usually demanded of all upper-class students; he promised to take very good care of her where he was taking her. He had her packed and shipped as freight back home to Cherish, it was time to begin her ‘home schooling.’
---
by Alex Streuth
Literary notes: As of now there is no major protagonist, the
antagonist is none other than Alex Streuth, 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 we explore the
fetish of forced anorexia. I sought to
make this a title worthy of my prior literary works by making sure to give a
solid ‘rounding out’ of the background of the Society through which this fetish
is enacted. I initially had planned Alex
as a sort of background character in this story, just a passive listener of a
tale or a viewer of video, but the opportunity arose for me to include him as
an active character at the end (how could I resist?)
I would like to thank M.W. for
his injections of verve and vitality (suggestions and positive feedback) that
helped to bring this story into being.
It is through reader requests like his that new ideas are born.
--
Keywords: degradation, dehumanization, objectification,
forced feeding, bimbofication, mental anguish, scat,
down her throat, into her mouth, huge, fake, plastic tits, artificial looking,
sleeping, sleepy, sedated, drugged, helpless, abducted.
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of behaviors 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 at Streuthanasia@gmail.com
Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories for my hosted collection.
--
Footnotes:
Using RSM (Ruckus Standard
Measurements) measurements each of Mona’s
new tits measures at a 10” diameter, thus, her 42L bust is a 22inch ribcage
with 20” worth of tits which weigh a combined 42 lbs. Additionally, on the young girl’s emaciated
80lb. frame this burden causes her to need to lean back about 7” in order to
maintain her new center of balance.