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 (January 2006) by the author with permission granted to make copies
only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be
responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find
offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Due to the extreme
nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled
across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard
copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft
copy.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
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Continuity and Background:
This story takes place within the charming
dominion of
My influences come from the
writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well
as fiction from mygagorder.com and thundershrk. The prominent themes are humiliation,
degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips,
forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term
suffering and servitude.
---
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and
designing. I sometimes come across
inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the “Committee
for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment” (the
CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from
personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and
scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well
as from public town events and records.
I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these
tales in my free time. While this is
intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been
taken to help increase readership interest.
Also, as I am extremely busy
not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a
genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive
information. In order to request this
more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material
presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your
particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
Super Bowl
Sally didn’t know what was going on. She thought she had been adjusting well to this weird society:
A few days (weeks?) ago she had been brought to Cherish courtesy of an acquisition team. A bunch of brawny guys had simply lifted her from her living room, muffled her screams, zipped her up into a bag, loaded her into a van, and driven her here. It was all rather rude if you asked her--which no one did.
So now here she was, some sort of unglorified office furniture. It was too much for her to get her head around. She had been a CPA, she had graduated from college, was a strong, independent woman, was starting to get a reputation, and then wham! out of the blue, for no apparent reason—here she was. Some kind of sick joke if you asked her—which no one ever did.
At first she thought it was an ex trying to get back at her, or maybe a wealthy client trying to scare her. To be honest she was rather hoping after a little while that it would just be a simple ransom—now she wished they would kill her or let her go, she couldn’t stand her current lifestyle.
At first it had not been so bad, but this most recent development, well, she cursed whoever had thought it up, in fact, she cursed him every time he came into her room:
“Well hello there,” Alex quipped merrily. He was having a rather fine day and he so enjoyed his latest trophy. He consulted the spec sheet again, originally 5’ 6” tall now ‘standing’ tall at 3’ above floor level thanks to a leg amputation and a comfortable ‘squatting’ pose for the subject, resting forward on her massive endowments. He used his hand to draw a line between the top of her head and his waist, yep, perfect match.
Originally blonde with blue eyes, well, her eyes were still there, glaring at him with a steely gaze, but her hair, alas, it was not so important to her function. Her bald head was wrapped in a pinioning envelopment of tough, durable thick black latex. Her eyes peered out through goggles which could, with just a little addition, be made opaque—right now they were translucent from having been washed recently.
He glanced further down the spec sheet, tucking the clipboard up to his chest and then rotating it a bit to see the bottom half: Originally Sally Harper, CPA, she was now designated as STX-092-06, as in Streuth Experiment, the 92nd one in 2006. He grinned down at her, the testing period was over, he checked off the box marked ‘Total Success’ at the bottom of the sheet.
--
Sally continued to glare at him through her clear goggles as he poked and prodded her body in different places, giving it a thorough examination for defects before whistling for the two packing men to come in and crate her up. She tried to spit at him or curse at him but her mouth was fully occupied with its incorporation into her new function and she failed, as she always did, to make it do what she wanted. Darkness engulfed her as she was loaded into a packing crate. Streuth patted its side and nodded for it to be taken away. He sighed wistfully to himself, ah, he missed all his prototypes, still, she was rather superfluous around his home and he would not mind the extra profit from selling her off. He grinned cagily, imagining that if she had been consulted on the strictly financial portions of the transaction that she would have agreed that, as a CPA, it was the most prudent decision.
He could play with all the rest of his toys anyway, he wouldn’t miss her overly much. But still it made him feel a kind of loss to see her go, after all of the work he had put into her.
--
Rob Schumacher simply loved everything that came out of Streuth Studios. He loved all of the thought and innovation, the creativeness of each design. He had moved to Cherish just a few months ago and already he was something of a collector, an aficionado of Streuth Products. He had paid extra to get this prototype. He had even met the man, Streuth, on several occasions, and he simply liked where his head was at.
Still, he could be shrewd, and he wasn’t a fool (to get into Cherish you had to be wealthy and possessed of a certain moxie) so he didn’t waste his money. He bought only one-of-a-kind products. Streuth had assured him that this newest one was no different, she and her kind would not be available for mass consumption, but rather were part of a ‘limited release.’ (Streuth for his part enjoyed these creative endeavors, and, now that he had created a sort of a name for himself as an auteur, was able to release these limited edition creations without losing money.)
The box arrived. There it was, bearing the mark and the signature of Streuth along the side. Rob was so excited, he had it brought into the house, he was going open it as soon as it was inside!
He grabbed a crowbar and plied the wooden bars apart, cracking the wood and quite scaring the occupant of the crate in the process. He kicked the hole wider with his foot, knocking the wood to the side before he reached in and grabbed at his package. He tugged, and Sally slowly came into view. She wouldn’t fit through the opening so he had to grab a hammer and knock the sides of the box into some more splinters before she finally fit through the opening. Really Sally was quite traumatized by the whole ordeal, so much violence so near her incapacitated form, it was unnerving.
She would probably never adjust to her new owner, much like she would never adjust to her new life. She still wanted ever so to just be able to sleep and never wake up again. In fact Alex had done a few studies of his own as to her mood, asking her questions while under trance about how she felt and what she thought about her new life. She still possessed all of her original intelligence and wits, but was thoroughly trapped and repurposed as this new device. Streuth made sure, as in most of his designs, that an inordinate amount of effort would have to be made for the product to be able to communicate anything, it added to the frustration and anxiety of the device and just made for all-around good old-fashioned fun.
Rob certainly appreciated Streuth’s efforts; he wanted a product that was ready-to-go out of the box with no training or discipline involved. Hell, if he wanted a woman he needed to train he’d marry again, no, he wanted something he could use. To this end, Sally was well designed:
As Rob stood over her she began to cry, he had whipped his massive cock out and was jerking it off quickly, stroking it back and forth, focused on the apparatus beneath him. There was just so much flesh around Cherish that it was nice for a man to have something simple and functional when he wanted autonomous relief. Sometimes it’s just too much effort to have to deal with a woman’s body, and its much nicer to simply look and not touch. Sally’s bulging tits certainly served that purpose, giving Rob a focal point for his masturbation.
He aimed his cock down at what appeared to be an opening into her skull which crowned her head, knowing that whatever he put in there would be going down into her through the ingenious plumbing Streuth had rigged. While he pumped he studied the user’s manual off to the side, taking in the diagram which showed the funnel at the top of her head, really a bowl-like device. It perched on top of her head, sandwiched in place in the durable, latex hood which covered her head. The bowl exited down into some tubing which ran inside the latex to enter Sally’s body through her nostril (one for food, one for breathe) so that the tubing continued on. Sally still breathed normally, except that only one of the tubes she breathed through was for air, the other conveyed the liquids from the bowl above.
The nostril which sucked in air had tubing which ran out and down, the latex leading into a bulbous rebreather which could be fit easily into Sally’s mouth. When not in her mouth it dangled just in front of it, bonking her face as it bobbed, and taking air in through the area just outside her mouth. When shoved into her mouth it could be strapped on with an attached loop of latex so that it did not come back out, and Sally would have to breathe from inside her mouth.
It had delighted Alex to note that by taking the rebreathing bladder out of her mouth one could access it for a nice skullfucking. After a nice round of poke the palate she would then have a new smell to take in when the bladder was replaced in her mouth.
--
The bowl drained down into her nose which then followed the tubing down into the back of her mouth where it went down into her throat. The ingeniousness of the design incorporates a stopper, much like one places in a sink to stop water from going down it, which Streuth placed right at the entrance to her throat. The draining tube (leading from the bowl down into her nose down into her mouth and now her throat) threads into the stopper, but all other form of entry is denied. The stopper has been sealed around the edges with a bio-polymer and no water or air can get out except through the tubing.
Some surgery has been performed lower down her body to insert a second stopper right after the breathing tube diverts to the lungs. This stops any of the stomach’s contents from coming back up in the case of attempted vomiting. Thus, all air breathed in goes through one nostril and into the lungs via the tubing, and the other serves the bowl up top and drains into her stomach. The act of breathing aids along whatever might be fed in through the bowl up top.
After a few days it was noted that in case Sally tried to push her food back up with her breathe (like a sneeze or an air-push) that a third stopper should be added, at just about eye level, which would divert anything which might come back up into a ‘safety’ reservoir which then drained into the interior of Sally’s goggles. After a few such attempts she learned not to try to ‘backtalk’ her elders. The goggles can then be cleaned by lifting up on them and reaching in with a cloth, but this is solely at her owner’s discretion.
Additionally the tube which feeds down into her body can be adjusted so that the tubing winds around in front of her goggles, giving her a view of what she is about to consume. Smell, is, of course, unaffected. Rob had questioned Streuth about his decision not to incorporate taste but Streuth had reasoned (from experience) that first off, taste is 80% smell anyways, and that secondly, to incorporate taste would give the unit additional ability to expel her food, and would also contaminate the pleasure pocket—her bypassed mouth.
All in all it was an unflawed design. Rob finished looking at the spec sheet and turned his attention back to 92’s tits. Enhanced as one would expect from Spencer Labs, they stood majestically out from the woman’s body. They were swathed in black latex, which served reinforce the vision of a plastic doll to play; pockets of flesh jutted forth lewdly from small openings at the aureole.
Reaching down Rob pawed at them before heaving back up, almost there, and aiming his cock at the bowl on top of her head. Sally cringed as she felt the spatters and waited for the inevitable.
--
She could smell it, the cleaner air coming in through one nostril, and the cum-scented air coming down through her other. Her mouth was currently free of the breathe-bladder and she was breathing air from around her mouth, it smelled much better than what was coming down the other tube. She was, of course, unable to talk, since she could not get air past her vocal cords while it was inside the tubing. All that she could do was burble up at the top of the bowl, pushing air up and out from her stomach, like expelling gasses. This caused the semi-wet bowl hole to spittle and splurp like a wet mouth as Sally went about her business. Her other air waste went into the rebreather for her eventual rebreathing.
The cum continued down, she could see it pass by her eyes, see it swirling down the tubing, and as she breathed she sucked it down further, towards its eventual end in her stomach. Rob thought about it, and basically it was like she was breathing in for her lungs through one nostril, and for her stomach with the other. He smiled and let his cock soften for its next administration.
Sally wanted to resist, oh how she hated this, how she hated life, how she hated what she had become. She knew that if she tried to push the sperm back up that it would just backflow into her goggles though, and that thought kept her from trying. She had learned early on that it’s easier to tolerate the food she is given in her stomach then next to her eyes.
Streuth had been a real asshole while she was learning that lesson and had only washed her eyes after three days, letting her deal with the crusty dried cum on her eyes during the meantime. She had cried, a natural defense against eye intrusion, but it had only softened it temporarily, it had dried again and left her sobbing to no use.
The bowl gurgled and drained, leading down inexorably into Sally’s mouth and then, sucked down, into her stomach. Her stomach gurgled happily, despite Sally’s plight it was still happy to be fed. Some of the cum lingered in the bowl, but Alex had explained to Rob that it could simply be rinsed down with water, or, in this case, as Rob aimed his cock and Sally cringed, a hot blast of urine.
Down it swirled, the cum and the urine mixed, the acrid tang alert in her olfactory senses. Streuth had been careful to make the membrane of the tubing semi-permeable in some slight patches to allow scent to carry where fluid would not; allowing Sally’s nose unlimited access to the delightful smells she was soon becoming versed in.
It would not be long before her mind would grow accustomed to such treatment, that, despite her hate and her loathing, she would eventually accept her new place, her new role, as a receptacle for waste, a pleasure toy, a warm mouth and a pair of tits.
She would not grow numb though, even as the warm urine flooded her stomach and she felt like dying Rob knew that she would remain alert and vigor for years to come. She would be kept around the house, not secreted away, and would interact with many men who might visit. That was the key, Alex had told him, to involve her in the houses activities, if he wanted her to remain lively and spurious.
The bowl drained down into her head, then down into her belly, Rob leaned down and cleared his throat, spitting down into the drain after he had finished shaking the last drops from his cock down into it.
He nudged her back and send her down onto the floor, to rest upon her pillowy tits. The angle was such that she had to suck down extra hard to avoid any waste spilling down into her goggles. She was well-learned in the different angles of her ‘swallowing’ and what degree could bring her ruin swiftly if she was not diligent.
To that end she was grateful of her massive mammories; so long as she could fall forward to rest on them she had a ‘doable’ angle for breathing and swallowing. If she was put flat on the floor, say, on her side or on her back then such an ordeal was impossible. Granted, it was not easy for anything to drain into the bowl, so that she had less to deal with, but anything that was already in the tubes had a much greater chance of flushing into her eyes.
She did her best to keep her balance.
Rob sighed contentedly and then relaxed on the couch to watch the game and eat some chips. He opened a beer and nursed it as well. After a bit he stretched and got up, heading to the fridge for another beer and a bottle of formula. Sitting back down and burping he patted his thigh, motioning for his girl to come over to him. Sally knew better than to balk, knew that her situation was untenable and that punishment was easily administered and thoroughly unenjoyable (thanks to a crash-course by one A. Streuth.)
She ambled over to him on her stumps, making very slow time having to push her dromedaries over to him, but eventually she made it. She had such proportion as to resemble a beanbag, so that she did not totter much, but sort of smooshed along the carpeting towards him, almost like a slug. Rob laughed at this, imagining what it would be like for her to leave a ‘trail’ along behind her, and then mentally reminding himself to check her diaper before too long.
Sally reached his side and Rob stuck the bottle down her drain, the tip covered not by a rubber nipple but rather by an edible sheaf of fibrous membranes. Normally kept covered by a plastic lid Rob had removed it for feeding. The inverted bottle drained down through the fibrous layers, until a sogging mess plopped into her bowl, followed by a stream of liquid which softened the sop and drained down beneath it. Sally was quite used to this feeding, and in fact rather enjoyed it, as it was a more pleasant experience than what was usually given her for others’ pleasures.
The liquid was tangy sweet, sort of like a juice, but without a sharp sweetness, more like sucking on a lollipop without having it in one’s mouth. Of course all of this ‘taste’ was derived from the smell so the ghostly essence of the taste would never truly resolve itself for her, but nevertheless she enjoyed it. The sopping mess, however, was not as fun, and she found the liquid gone much sooner than she wished it to be.
Slowly, inexorably, the softened sop drained down into the bowl, in lumpy portions. Her breathing became labored as she sucked at it, even entertaining for a moment the idea that Rob might clean it out immediately and then throw it away if she took it into her goggles. But no, first off it was too difficult to maneuver such a heavy liquid (a soft solid really) down the tubing (much less up the tubing) and secondly it was a vain fancy that he might do such a thing for her.
He would more likely either leave it in there for her to deal with (for days maybe?) or simply stick it back up top for her and leave her to deal with residue by her eyes. The food itself was formulated to be easily digested and contain nutrients and necessary materials for her survival. It wasn’t necessarily supposed to be torturous, but upon observation Streuth had decided not to change the formula (it was much too entertaining to watch Sally deal with its intrusion.)
In fact Rob was fascinated by the scene, he had turned from the game and was studying her labored breathing. She was having no actual trouble inhaling, but was having trouble ‘swallowing.’ He was glad Streuth had hooked her up to a rebreather to avoid excessive oxygenation. Still, there was the chance of hyperventilation, so he took mercy on her and poured some of his beer into her bowl.
The extra liquid helped the soppy mess flush down into her belly. She was, believe it or not, grateful to Rob for that assistance and went so far as to give him a look that expressed her gratitude. Rob glanced around to make sure that no one had seen him being generous, and that no one was looking now (as far as he knew no one was around, but he checked nonetheless) before reaching out to pet Sally’s face.
“That’s a good girl, that’s a good girl, yes she is, yes she is.” Sally actually smiled. “There’s my beautiful Bowl, yes she is, my versatile vacuum,” Sally blushed.
Rob relaxed and went back to his game, idly reaching down and petting its tits as he did, just a lazy Sunday spent idling in the living room between Master and Bowl.
“Maybe I’ll invite some friends over later,” he thought.
---
by
Alex Streuth
Literary notes: A short story, a study really, of product
development and creative new uses for females in Cherish. Alex perfects a pleasure model of his waste
unit, and Rob, his avid fan, enjoys its simple use and care, looking forward to
years of service from his new mobile floor unit.
A sequel would surely describe
friends coming over to watch the game, and all of them having to get up at some
point to use the ‘head.’
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Keywords: Objectification degradation extreme
modifications unwilling forced modified enhanced collagen silicone silicon
swallowed surgery choked gagged modified injected amputated helpless “down into
her” “down her” mouth throat slave toy bimbo doll girl tits
--
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written
adult story that allows the reader to indulge in their darker appetites. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at
Streuthanasia@gmail.com
--
Reader suggestions are always
welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of
clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. that you wish inserted into the
busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth
please do not hesitate to contact me regarding it. I will see it I can fit your order into their
schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories
(www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Alex_Streuth/www/)
for the rest of my hosted collection.
I am indebted to The Mayor of
Cherish www.bimbofiction.com for the
use of his setting.