This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story
is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors
or the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the
pseudonym of the author and a fictional character in these stories. Any characters, places, businesses and/or
circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional. None of the following is based on real
organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real,
living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (June 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.
--
Continuity and Background:
This story takes place within the charming
dominion of
You may find the graphic novel
“Stepford Bound” (by Benson) useful for further reference.) Other influences come from My Gag Order,
Thndrshark
, and
Gord
(also
see
GordBooks
.)
The prominent themes are
humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips,
forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term
suffering and servitude.
---
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and
designing. I sometimes come across
inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the
“Committee for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment”
(the CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from
personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and
scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well
as from public town events and records.
I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these
tales in my free time. While this is
intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been
taken to help increase readership interest.
Also, as I am extremely busy
not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a
genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive information. In order to request this more thorough (and
graphically detailed) explanation of certain material presented, please send
your request (noting with which area of record your particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
The Education
of Ms. Laut
1—Invitation
Dear Ms. Laut.
First off, I am a huge fan of your work; I’ve read all of your papers, especially the ones that deal with women’s emergent role in today’s society.
I am a Professor of Women’s Studies at CVU and we would be honored to have you as a guest lecturer.
I know you are an important and busy figure in today’s politics but please, if you have the time, visit us. We would love for you to talk to our students; you inspire us all.
Your presence would mean so much. I am willing to use my own money to accommodate your appearance fee and air fare, and you are welcome to share my home.
We would be delighted to have you.
Sincerely,
Alex Streuth
--
Henry Wyeth guided his dog down the main street, tipping his hat to his neighbors and fellow men as he greeted them.
His dog, Marla, crawled along peaceably on all fours, content to sniff at the grass and the garbage cans as they walked past them. Henry guided her to a park bench and sat down.
Marla sniffed around the bench, and then settled down on her haunches, lifting one of her forelegs to scratch behind her ear. A few moments later she looked up at her owner and started panting, saliva pooling in her mouth as her tongue hung out.
Henry smiled at her and dug around in his pocket for a treat. He found a biscuit and held it out to her, watching as her neck craned to reach it. “Up,” he said, and she sat up, bringing her neck forward to reach the treat.
“Wait for it,” he said, holding the treat a bit away from her so that she could not snatch it. He placed it on her nose and watched her eyes cross to look at it.
“Okay, now,” he said. She lifted her head back and let the treat fall down to her mouth, snapping at it greedily as it came within reach.
“Good girl.” Henry patted on the head her head as she smiled and munched on the treat. He breathed in the fresh, clean outdoor air. The air quality was so good in Cherish; no one motored about in town, and the industrial areas were sedate (without smokestacks and such.)
It was very pleasant. He ran his hand over his girl’s mange, rubbing her head and stroking behind her neck. She smiled with pleasure and lowered her head, leaning into his ministrations.
She relaxed, lying down at his feet, and rested her chin on his right shoe. Henry leaned back and dozed off in the shade of the gently swaying tree above.
--
“Ms. Laut it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Alex was helping the esteemed feminist get down from the plane. She had been moved by his flattering letter and had accepted his offer of a private jet flight to the exclusive school. They were at a secluded landing strip near Cherish. He helped her with her luggage.
“Are you Alex’s assistant?” She asked, somewhat peeved. She had expected to be greeted by a woman, and here was this man… He was fawning over her, but he was a man nevertheless.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, I’m Alex, Alex Streuth.” He had been counting on the fact that she would mistake his androgynous name for a woman’s in order to get her here.
“Hmphhh, well, of course that’s no problem, I’d be delighted to see your campus, but I am busy and probably cannot stay for more than a few hours.”
Alex smiled. She was backpedaling. In her reply she had stated that she would be delighted to stay for up to a week. Even though she was now miffed she was unable to back out without appearing a hypocrite:
A true equality activist would consider Streuth’s gender a non issue. But Ms. Laut was no activist, she was a female supremacist—she looked down on men. Streuth was certain that his mere presence discomforted her.
“Please,” he said, “after you.” He opened the passenger door and motioned to the car. He walked around to the driver’s side after.
She sat down haughtily in the passenger seat and sniffed, already disgusted by the smell and untidiness of the car.
“Is it far?’
“Oh no,” Alex replied, starting the engine, “it’s not far.”
2—Tunnel of Love
They arrived soon after at the outskirts of town and reached a security checkpoint. Armed men peered down from a watch tower.
“We’ve had a lot of attacks recently on campus,” Alex explained as they passed through. Ms. Laut watched nervously as the men eyed her.
Alex concocted a diversion, adding “We’ve been considering banning male students from campus in order to reduce the security risks they pose.”
His distraction worked, Ms. Laut transferred her anxiety about the guards to the new topic. She began spouting a litany of facts and figures supporting the idea. She rattled off examples of how all-female colleges suffered from less crime and proved to be more efficient and conducive to learning.
“Oh I agree,” Alex responded. “In fact we cater almost exclusively to women here.”
Ms. Laut nodded. “You know,” she added conspiratorially after a moment, as they steadily approached town, “I’ve been preparing a new curriculum for boys that teaches them to be much better behaved.”
“Oh?” Alex responded, his mansion coming into view in the distance.
“Well,” Ms. Laut preened, “I could go over the idea with you in more detail.”
They reached Streuth manor and parked in the driveway. Alex got out, took up her bags and escorted her inside.
“These are the University’s administrative offices,” he explained. He pointed to the inside of his large home from their vantage in the foyer. “We can pop in later, but right now I was hoping to take you to tour the Female Engineering department.”
Ms. Laut’s eyes widened. “You have an entire engineering department devoted to women?” Alex nodded. “My my this University is advanced…”
Alex led her to the side, giving her a trusting look as he led her lower; they approached a tunnel entrance. “It’s just down here.” He led her through the door and into the subterranean passage.
‘Female Engineering’—the name Alex and Spencer had given Spencer Labs’ R+D—was connected to Streuth’s by the passage. It allowed Streuth to navigate work environments while maintaining project secrecy.
“This is odd. Are you sure it’s this way?” Ms. Laut was apprehensive about traveling down the foreboding passage.
“This is an underpass designed to give the students safe passage…” Streuth began… He gauged her reaction. She didn’t seem quite convinced so he added, “So that they won’t be accosted or attacked by men.”
Ms. Laut nodded, accepting the explanation, although somewhat tentatively.
“Eve, may I call you Eve?” Streuth turned on the charm, flashing his toothiest, most disarming smile, “I’ve never met a woman quite like you.” Streuth feigned admiration. He wanted to take her mind off of the situation. They were almost to the next entrance.
Ms. Laut gave him a curious look. “Well,” Streuth continued to pour it on, “It’s just that we rarely get speakers of your magnitude coming all the way out here. We’re honored to host someone of your magnitude.”
Ms. Laut smiled politely, not quite mollified but accepting the flattery nonetheless. Alex kept a pleasant patter going until they reached the end of the hallway.
Streuth opened the door for her motioned her forward. This was how he had planned it. Soon he would have had her on the lab table, falling under anesthesia…
The door ahead popped open and Spencer leaned out. “Alex, hey,” he said, bringing his surgeon’s mask down from his face and wiping some blood spatter from his apron, “I’m just finishing…”
Eve bolted.
The lack of students or any reassuring nuances had kept her on guard. She ran back down the tunnel.
Alex wilted and chased after her, sprinting as best he could though a little out of shape. He dove and grabbed her skirt but she stumbled out of it. She kicked out at him, losing a shoe to his fumbling hands. Taking a moment to get her other shoe off she resumed her flight barefoot.
Alex grabbed a walkie-talkie from his pocket and alerted the house guard. He rolled onto his back mid-tunnel and caught his breath as he barked out orders for Eve’s re-capture.
Ms. Evelyn Laut reached the end of the tunnel and ran up the steps. She burst out onto the hardwood of Alex’s main landing. A large man barred her escape, closing in for a bear hug. She feigned to the right and managed to almost get by but he grabbed her sleeve.
She loosened her top and let him yank it off. He lost his balance and fell backwards with the garment, wadding it up in his meaty hands.
Under her shirt she was braless—she considered the item one of man’s contrivances—and her full, D-cup chest sprung out in full, self-supporting glory, causing the brute to stutter a bit in his climb back to his feet and stare. She turned to the foyer, naked now except for her stockings.
The guard activated the emergency house alarm, causing the main door to start sealing and the foyer to start releasing a knockout gas.
Eve sprinted through the closing door, coughing as she turned sideways, flew through it, reached the outdoors, and escaped.
--
Eve ran raggedly, coughing a bit still from the bit of gas she had inhaled. She was high on adrenaline and ran full speed away from the house towards the nearest sign of people: Cherish proper.
She ran for several minutes and then stopped to catch her breathe. The whole scene felt surreal. She needed to find help.
Her body started to equalize from her fight or flight response and the adrenaline drained away, leaving the effect of the gas to replace it. Everything felt suddenly weird. Her head felt light.
She hadn’t quite reached the town yet but decided to take refuge in some bushes. She felt really tired and didn’t want to fall asleep out in the open, especially naked as she was.
3—Bitchfight
Marla tugged on the leash, yanking Henry awake. She smelled something. He blinked and looked down, seeing her growling at a stray animal. “What’s this?” He asked.
Marla growled, circling to the right against the intruder—a woman who was crawling out of the bushes nearby.
Henry did a double take. While it was not uncommon for pets to go into bushes… so that they could go in them, this one was certainly a strange animal:
First off, she sported no collar, and indeed seemed free of hobble or marking. What’s more, she had bits of leaf and twig in her hair—her hair—all pets were supposed to be bald!
Why this was no animal, this was a woman, but a strange woman… her breasts swayed as she moved, indicating that they were not implanted—at least, not to the point of ‘hard plastic’ as was fashionable in Cherish. What’s more, she was completely naked except for a pair of ripped stockings.
Women in Cherish were not allowed to go out undressed, only animals were. Henry could not reconcile the sight… She could not be an animal because she had hair, but no man would let his woman out like that… unless she a stray or a run-away…
Either way he needed to capture her. The woman seemed disoriented and confused as she crawled out from her hiding place; now was the time to act.
Some passersby noticed the commotion and started gathering… Henry commanded his girl to “Sic girl, sic!” and off she went.
Marla growled and the other bitch responded in surprise, putting her hands up in shock. Marla raised her hackles and lowered her front quarters menacingly, ready to charge.
The other woman blanched and stood, shakily, drawing gasps from onlookers. It was highly unusual to see a naked woman who was not on all fours in public. In fact, the sight was considered lewd once they realized she had hair. A man could display his woman in public with revealing clothing, but she had to be dressed somehow.
Some of the onlookers put two and two together and started to chant “Escapee, escapee…”
Marla the bitch responded to the call. Eve was extremely startled by all of this, to see a woman staring her down like an animal. She stared into Marla’s eyes in fright and then turned tail. She had trouble moving quickly, as the effects of the gas had not worn off completely.
Marla charged the quarry.
The crowd went wild. Marla closed the distance in a few easy bounds and then leaped onto the woman, locking paws and tumbling, taking her down in a fury of hisses and snarls.
Eve, wrested to the ground, lay still. Henry was glad that Marla was de-clawed, because she now rained pats and hits onto the other’s face and torso, Eve’s D-cups getting a healthy dose of punishment as she was beaten into submission.
After a few moments Marla growled and then pushed off of the bitch, creating a void between the two. Eve struggled to speak, but the gas had temporarily paralyzed her vocal cords.
Marla circled, watching the naked woman nursing her battered breasts, her udders heaving as she attempted to sit up. Marla sprang forward, ready for another tussle with her opponent.
Henry watched as the woman received a head-butt to the stomach that sent her back down. She clutched her midsection and struggled to breathe, the wind knocked out of her.
Marla padded over to her and assumed a position of dominance, crawling to stand over top of the beaten woman’s face—this woman who just didn’t know when to stay down.
Marla woofed happily and shook her rump as the crowd cheered for her. Basking in the glow of victory she relaxed—peeing victoriously onto the slumped woman’s face.
The crowd cheered again as Eve’s faced was covered, sputtering as the urine hit her. Weakened and shocked though she did not resist much. Still recovering from the head-butt she just lay there and took it.
Henry cheered louder than any as he stood up to congratulate his pup; his little girl had just beaten a larger and heavier breasted bitch. He would have to reward her later.
A few of the crowd members walked up to Henry and began congratulating him on the victory. They asked how she had been trained, what diet he had her on, and if he did anything to prepare her before a fight.
“I guess she’s just a natural,” he said, chuckling. “I just feed her a normal puppy diet, puppy chow, water, a little extra protein every now and then,” he smiled, “and treats when she behaves.”
“What about punishments?” A man asked, “Do you beat her when she loses?”
“Uh,” Henry was at a loss, “she’s never lost so I don’t know.”
The crowd went crazy at this news. Cries of ‘Never lost?!’ and ‘Unbeatable’ started to circulate.
Henry managed to reach his pet and cup her rein. He inspected the defeated dog, looking for a tag or other sign of ownership. There did not appear to be any, which confirmed his suspicions that she was a run-away.
If she did not belong to anyone then by common law she now belonged to Henry since his bitch had bested her in a fight. He asked the crowd anyway to make sure:
“Does anyone know whose dog this is?” The crowd had started to disperse. A few of them turned to him and looked the bitch over, one of them a teen with a glint in his eye.
“Uh, she’s like mine,” the teen said, coming up to claim her. “She, uh, ran away earlier.”
The teen moved forward to grab the naked woman and Henry raised his hand. “Hold on,” he wasn’t quite sure the teen was telling the truth. “Call her then, if she’s yours.”
The boy blushed and then confessed: “Okay Mister, she’s not really mine… But can I have her? I don’t have a bitch yet.” He looked down at the ground and kicked a stone.
The man Henry had been speaking with earlier, the one who wanted to know if he beat Marla, walked up and joined them. “Well if she’s a run away and your bitch here re-captured her,” he said, indicating Marla, “then she’s yours until someone reports her missing.”
Henry took a second leather collar out of his pocket and affixed it to the new woman’s neck while the teen looked on, fascinated by the way the older man took complete control of the bitch.
“Sorry son,” Henry said, “but she’s mine now.” Eve could not believe that they were talking about her like a piece of property. Henry wound Marla’s leash through the new collar and yanked up so that he led both women.
Marla growled as she was forced into close quarters with the new bitch, but Henry told them both to be quiet with a harsh tug of the leash.
“No fighting, both of you, or you’ll both be beaten when we get home.”
“Hey,” the man continued, “mind if I join you? My name’s Bob. If she’s a run-away your new bitch could probably use some firm discipline.”
Henry looked Bob over then nodded. “You’re right Bob. This one does look kind of tough.” They both eyed Eve critically, who scowled back at them. “I’m Henry by the way.” The two men shook hands.
“Yeah, she’ll be a tough one to break alright,” Bob said, tugging up his pants, “but that’s half the fun right?” He smiled at Henry.
“Yessir, I think we’ll just have to send her to school.” Henry smiled and winked and Bob grinned back.
4—Nursing Wounds
“Yes, I know I dropped the ball,” Alex was saying. He was in Spencer’s exam room, recovering after having given up the chase.
“My dear friend, you really ought to leave the acquisitions to younger men.”
“Younger men? Herbert, I’m not exactly old, I’m not even thirty yet. Besides, this woman requires my personal handling.”
Spencer shrugged. “Very well, but you’re not getting out of here until I’ve given you a full physical. I’m going to prescribe a regular exercise regime as well; I think all of the time you spend at the drafting table has made you soft.”
Alex remained calm and let Spencer examine him, neither arguing nor agreeing. After a few moments he spoke again: “She’s quite a prize Spence, quite a prize.”
Spencer was examining Streuth’s eyes, shining a light into them, and saw the look that came over his friend’s face. He stood up and looked admonishingly down at Alex. “Alex, what that woman espouses is anathema to everything we stand for. You cannot coddle her, she will bewitch you. She is not a farm-fresh twenty-something straight off a college campus, she’s strong and calculating…” He paused, considering his words, “A bit like you really Alex, only, without the penis of course.” He smiled ruefully when Alex scowled.
“She’s nothing like me Spencer… Ahhhh .”
He stuck his tongue out as Spencer prodded with a tongue depressor. “Believe me Alex, she’s a danger to our lifestyle.”
“Nonsensh.”
“She’s a parasite. She’s actually got some people convinced that women are superior to men, she needs to be neutralized.” He paused and looked pointedly at Streuth.
Alex shrugged and Spencer frowned. “This isn’t a game Alex. All of this, this work that we do, it’s not just for fun. We are adding volumes to the human understanding of the female species.”
Alex sighed, this was an old argument. Spencer was forward looking, considering the ‘work’ the two did part of a greater cause, while Alex reveled in the sheer doing of it. He should never have told Spencer of the woman’s writings, now the old codger was convinced that she had to be ‘neutralized’ which meant antiseptic cut-and-dry no playtime for Alex.
“Look, she can’t have gotten far,” Alex said, stretching out his jaw, “I’ll get her and once I’ve had my fun you can bore her silly brains out, okay?”
Spencer was still incensed but he knew better than to try to deny Alex a new plaything. So long as she was dealt with he would be happy. It wouldn’t have even been an issue if Streuth hadn’t made the uncharacteristic blunder of allowing her to escape.
“There,” Spencer said, wrapping a bandage around Streuth’s wrist.
5—The
Education of Ms. Laut
Henry was in his basement. There were several padded benches, straps, a large padded mat, and whips of various sizes. He had a variety of gags strewn on the floor. He took another out of a cardboard box and tried it on his new bitch.
“Too large,” he said, taking the ball gag away from her face and setting it aside.
He picked up a ring-gag and starting fitting it onto her face, checking her mouth size versus its diameter.
“This one might fit well,” he said, and then looked over at the other man. “What do you think Bob?”
He studied the fit. “Yeah, its good, stretches her mouth some, makes her look good.” He grinned at the mewling bitch.
“Yeah,” I normally don’t make the gag hurt but this bitch needs to be broken. Plus I think I can still get another turn or two of the ratchet on it if she complains.” He gave the bitch a stern look and she wilted.
Henry stood up and gently prodded the new bitch with his foot. “Up,” he said.
Henry motioned for the other man to bring Marla over so that she could watch. He then took his cock out and motioned for the new bitch to come up to it.
She growled and jumped at him.
“Get down bitch.” He smacked her down, holding her head, pressing, until she quieted.
“Get down.” He slapped her more gently as she complied.
She lowered her head and looked at his cock. It looked menacing close up. She had never seen a penis this close up in real life before. It pulsed and throbbed like a strange creature. She felt herself grow sick as she saw it pulse out and grow longer; it was so close to her face now.
“Kiss it like a good girl,” Henry cooed.
Eve shuddered in response thinking the whole town demented. After her encounter with Marla she realized how bizarre the town really was. Even the women, it seemed, were in on it—or brainwashed.
Up to this point she had tried to convince herself that it was all just a sick practical joke, something put together by a demented mind to scare her… The idea of everything being organized… institutionalized… chilled her to the bone.
“Come on, kiss-kiss.” Henry said. She felt the repulsive head of the man’s cock touch her face and any semblance of doubt she had as to whether what she was enduring was a dream abruptly ended.
She flared her nostrils and balked…
“Kiss,” he said, and again presented her with his cock. She stared at it; her jaw ached around the ring gag, seeing just how easy it would be for the man to put it in her mouth.
She looked up at him in fright. “Don’t look at me, look at your friend,” he admonished. Eve misunderstood and looked over at Marla, the bitch that had thwarted her escape. If it hadn’t been for her then she might have made it out of the town. Marla glared back with an ‘I showed you’ look. Eve shivered, feeling herself alone and helpless.
Henry slapped Eve’s head, getting her attention. He held his cock in front of her face, causing her to stare at it as it pulsed close to her.
She started to drool as she looked at his cock, but only because of the ring gag in her mouth. “Yes, that’s it,” Henry said, “I like to see my bitches drool when they see their friend.”
Even shuddered, realizing that the ‘friend’ he meant was his penis. She glanced up at him for a moment and then flinched when he raised his hand. She returned her gaze to his cock, not wanting to get hit.
What disturbed Eve the most was the way the man was acting. He didn’t seem to be trying to torment her as much as instruct her. Everything she had seen so far in this town made her anxious at the prospect. She did not want to learn anything here.
“Why don’t you say hello,” Henry said. He took his fingers and held the head of his cock, gripping the tip and tugging on it a bit to open the urethral hole.
He spoke again, in a higher, more sing-song voice: “Hello little girl, will you be my friend?” He gripped and then released his cock head, causing the hole to widen and then relax in sync with his voice, mimicking a mouth opening and closing.
Eve grimaced as he did so, closing her eyes and turning away. She was freaked out. Henry slapped the side of her face—causing her eye to tear up—and then slapped her again, harder, reminding her to come back to attention.
“Nwoah,” she said, around her ring-gag. “Pweah schwoh … wet mah goah.”
Henry gripped the side of her head and turned her to look back straight:
Eve once again confronted the man’s cock, unable to avoid its presence. She could smell it; the scent was pungent and repulsive to her. She had never been faced with a man’s genitalia up close before, and had always treated it with disdain in the past.
Still, in her present circumstances, it was insistent, and since she could do no else she stared at it, repulsed and yet fascinated. She could close her eyes but she had no doubt that the man would find some resourceful way of keeping her attention.
She gulped and flicked her eyes up to the man for a second and then stared nervously at his cock. Her lips were starting to dry out a little from the strain on them, so she licked them to wet them.
“Ah, a good response, I like to see my girl’s salivating and licking their lips when they see their friend.” He thrust playfully forward in a mock attempt at penetration, but he stopped short of entering her mouth. Eve flinched and then looked up at him again, pleading. He slapped the side of her face and she returned her gaze to his cock.
“Kiss and make-up,” he said. She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of participating in this charade.
“Woahhh,” she said, suddenly obstinate. She glared up at him for a moment. He smiled down at her, which disturbed her more than the reprimand which came a moment later: Another slap to the face. Her cheek stung.
She groaned and then regained her composure, which was ruined a moment later when a large gob of drool dribbled out of her mouth. She felt humiliated, growing tired as she faced off against the massive throbbing organ. She didn’t think it would be long before she would give in.
The phone rang. Henry waved Bob over to answer it. He turned back to the woman, holding her head firmly, and positioning his cock in front of her mouth.
“Kiss it,” he said.
“Uh cahnt kah uht,” she said, around the ring gag.
“You can if you do it French style,” Henry said slyly. Eve shuddered. She pictured leaning forward and taking his disgusting organ into her mouth and French kissing it like she did her gentle suitors. She shook her head and coughed at the idea.
“You can do it,” Henry said, encouraging her. “Just pretend that it’s a great big ice cream cone. It’s a hot summer day, you want something nice and refreshing to eat… Go ahead, kiss it.”
Eve burned with humiliation, he was treating her like a little girl. She wanted to cry but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She watched his penis pulse mere inches from her face, considered the idea of just lightly touching it with her tongue and then shuddered at the idea.
Bob came back from the phone. “That was um, Dr. Spencer, from Spencer Labs. He’s asking about run-aways, says there’s a large reward…” He stopped, seeing Eve’s eyes widen. He walked up to Henry and whispered into his ear:
“The description he gave matches this bitch.” He nodded towards Eve. “The reward’s large enough that we could get two new bitches to replace her and the doctor said he’d throw in some custom mods on comp.”
Henry considered. “Well, that does sound like an attractive offer.” He looked down at the new woman again, and then over at Marla. He motioned Bob over, who took over for him holding Eve’s head straight.
Henry gripped his cock so that he could make it look like it was speaking again, “Looks like you and I won’t get to be best friends after all little girl,” he said in a mocking, gruff voice. Eve recoiled from the sight, trying to move her head but unable to. She closed her eyes and wanted to gag again, even though her mouth was completely empty.
Her jaw felt sore and she was still drooling. She squirmed under the men’s attention. “But it would be impolite to leave without introducing myself,” Henry added in his normal voice.
“That’s right,” Bob said, “its impolite not to introduce yourself when you meet someone new.”
Henry tensed his buttocks, getting ready to thrust. Eve sensed it coming and managed to stir her vocal cords to activity, making a low gurgle that gradually became a scream.
Henry chose that moment to strike, impaling her face hard upon his pulsing member. Eve quickly grew mute.
“It’s also bad to talk to strangers,” Henry added, in the sing-song voice again, and Bob chuckled.
“Say,” Bob said, “about that reward, do you think we could split it?” Henry shook his head. “Well, what about a finder’s fee?”
Henry pondered this for a moment—still bucking into the woman’s resisting mouth. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a holder’s fee,” he smiled at Bob, “…you can have next go.” He nodded down, indicating Eve’s struggling face.
Bob rubbed the bulge in his pants against the back of Eve’s head, “Sounds fair,” he said, smiling and continuing to hold her firmly.
Surrounded, held, struggling, screaming, revolted, Eve squirmed as best she could and gagged on the vile cock.
“Just sort of tilt her a bit there,” Henry pointed and thrust again, “Oh yeah, much better, see how I’m getting better penetration?”
Eve could certainly appreciate the full impact.
5—Reprogramming
Eve woke up and looked around. The last thing she remembered was Bob choke-fucking her face and holding her nose until she passed out.
She was in a bright room; the walls were lined with strange apparatuses, tubing, some helmets, lots of IV bags and other medical appliances.
Something beeped. Spencer shuffled over and examined Eve’s vitals on the monitor. The display showed her brainwaves. “Patient is awake,” Spencer said matter-of-factly into a microphone.
Eve stared at him, taking in the full horror of her situation… recognizing his accoutrements. She groaned.
Spencer misread her reaction and quickly checked her connections. “There should be no pain…” he mused.
Spencer leaned down and whispered to Eve:
“My friend Alex does not know that I have you. You will have to excuse his behavior earlier; he’s a bit melodramatic, and most definitely a sadist, so while you might not believe me you are much better off here.”
He studied her eyes, which still radiated fear and worry. “He would undoubtedly be torturing you pointlessly right now, for his own amusement.” Spencer paused and carefully gripped Eve’s right eyelid in a forceps. He licked his lips and then slowly severed it with a scalpel.
“It’s embarrassing behavior but he is a vivacious man; quite resourceful.” He saw the terrified look grow in Eve’s eye as he cauterized the wound. He ended his digression.
“As I was pointing out, you are not going to be tortured, you’re here with me, and this is better for you.” Spencer gripped her left eyelid in the forceps and a moment later cut it off as well. He cauterized the wound and began wiping a light wet cloth over Eve’s scalp.
Her eyes bugged out, her eyelids were gone! She realized as he stroked the cloth over her head that her head was bare. She was bald!
She was going crazy now, bucking as much as she could against her restraints. There was no pain, no feeling, her system was flush with painkillers. When he had cut her lids off all she had felt was a slight pressure, and when he had cauterized it had been only a slightly greater pressure.
She struggled in her bonds and tried to shake but she was held firmly. The straps around her neck were tight, and the one around her forehead was snug as well, she was not going anywhere.
Spencer took out a great rubber helmet, all straps and dangles. He held it in front of her face, comparing it. Eve was beyond the pale now, her eyes moving rapidly left and right, every free muscle aching and twitching as she strove to escape captivity.
Spencer calmly held the rubber helmet to her head. It hugged her scalp as he slid it on. She mewled and bucked but could not stop it from slowly encapsulating her face.
She began breathing rapidly, panicking. The front of her mask had a tube that dangled from her snout. She drew air up the long corrugated rubber of the re-breathing tube.
She waved her fingers, her wrists bound but her fingers free. “Ahh ahh,” she said, talking around the gauze in her mouth. Spencer had done a little routine work while she had first been out, shaving her bald, pulling out her teeth…
He pulled the gauze out, tossing it aside, sticking his finger in her mouth and feeling around to make sure he had gotten it all; her gums had long since healed.
Eve bit furiously at his finger but succeeded only in gripping it in her gums. Spencer could not resist a wry smile as he pulled out and fitted a mouth plug over the lower half of the helmet face, securing it around her neck.
Eve’s mouth was now lined with rubber which led to the back of her throat. Spencer tested it by placing a plastic tube to her mouth’s entrance and slowly inserting it. Eve panted and tried to push it away with her tongue but the instrument slid easily down to her esophageal sphincter.
Spencer sniffed and continued to snake the tube down, allowing enough to pass her mouth so that he was certain it was curling up in her stomach. He turned his attention back to her eyes.
“These will keep dust and dirt out of your eyes,” he said, placing hard plastic cups over her eyes, securing each in its own little hermetic sphere. “You are still responsible for natural tear production to keep them lubricated though, so since no irritants can now be introduced you will have to find some other way of crying.”
As if on cue she burst into tears. “Very good, just like that.” It was all too much for her, too heavy, too encapsulating, too extreme: Like rape, only more so.
“Okay, we’re almost ready to begin the procedure,” Spencer intoned. Eve was distraught.
Her features had disappeared behind the mask. She was just an open rubber mouth and a tight featureless head. Her eyes and ears were the only part of her visible, and she could do no else but stare forward and listen, her eyelids sorely missed.
“Okay, I’ve got you all set up, I’ll come back and check on you when you’ve finished your first lesson.” Spencer finished by closing the flaps on the sides of the mask, preventing Eve from hearing the outside world.
Lastly he connected her breathing tube to the oxygen tanks and the computer took over her intake. “Don’t want you passing out on us,” he said. “Now, there will be a series of images and some voices.” He sniffed, setting down his tools, wiping his brow with his arm and blinking.
“You should not feel anything, the brain has no nerves. Now, just react as truthfully as you can and this will be over with a minimum of fuss. This will take as long as it takes.”
Eve was beyond panicking, she was helpless. She had been struggling, pulling, fuming, breathing rapidly and blinking but she was still stuck to the table, growing exponentially more anxious and having no way to vent herself.
Finally she just shut down, slumping in a faint. The breathing apparatus puffed, administering a waft of smelling salts, reviving her. Spencer nodded and left to attend to his other patients.
--
“Watch the screen,” a voice in her ears commanded.
A nearby machine that was designed to treat cancer in the brain, tumors was waiting patiently. It would use two very low-power lasers, shining them into her brain; where they crossed brain cells were killed. They were very precise, killing only what they intersected at.
A robotic arm responded to the monitor nodes in the mask. As she watched the image appear a light on a map-grid of her brain lit up and the mechanized arms adjusted the lasers until they were lined up properly.
The lasers activated and cauterized the part inside her brain that the light had represented. The lasers deactivated and the machine rested. The next image appeared and two lights shone.
Whrrrt , zappft. Whrrrtttt , zappft. The map of her brain grew dark, still, again. The next image appeared.
Eve was in distress. The image she was looking at showed a woman on her hands and knees, looking up at a man, her mouth held open in supplication, as though begging him for food. He appeared to be responding to her solicitation by reaching to unzip his pants. She was appalled!
Three lights lit up on the display. One by one they were each shot down. The next image appeared.
This one was even worse! It showed a woman drinking from a vat of male ejaculate, ewww, gross. She appeared to be consuming a drink of some sort, a diet shake perhaps. In the picture nearby men were ‘mixing’ up her next meal for later. Eve wanted to vomit.
Again the laser mechanically responded to her distress, callously purifying her.
The cold/hot dance continued. The images appeared in a long cycle, passing through hundreds, at each point the slideshow stopped and allowed the lasers to kill a small cluster of brain cells, maybe four or five at a time, before continuing.
The device was very subtle, it responded only to the most potent locales in her brain activity. If an image evoked an especially strong reaction it might take several passes, maybe even dozens, before all objecting parts of her brain had been localized and destroyed. The thoroughness was required to leave as much of her brain intact as possible.
With each pass the laser killed only a very small amount of brain matter, so that on the second pass there could be refinement, and then more on the third, and so on.
When the doctor returned a few hours later the program was repeating for perhaps the twentieth time.
The image on the screen showed a woman on her hands and knees with her hands clasped in prayer bowing her head to a large phallic statue. Spencer inspected her chart, she had no reaction.
He studied her eyes, they looked ahead dumbly. Her mouth was leaking drool.
“Good,” he said, “neutralization complete.”
--
Spencer flicked a switch that turned the lasers off.
He swiveled Eve’s chair around and attached a separate device to her, this time to her crotch, inspecting the area first to make sure her sex was denuded.
Now as the images played impulses on her clitoris, vaginal walls, and rectum would encourage a proactive attitude towards the on-screen activities. “Positive conditioning,” Spencer said, to no-one in particular.
Eve could still heard only the occasional voice in her ear that reminded her to watch the screen. As each image was now shone Eve began to grow accustomed to the corresponding pleasure that accompanied it.
Eve watched as the image of a man berating a woman came into view, yelling and slapping her. She knew what she was looking at but instead of reacting as normal it felt as though that part of her brain were simply not available to her; instead she smiled slightly at the expectation of pleasure that accompanied the image.
She felt it a split second later, a burst of pleasure from the vibrations. Spencer watched the brainwaves spike and a small quadrant of the digital map of her brain light up.
“Very good,” he said, they were making progress.
He looked over at the brainwave patterns. She seemed to be learning, anticipating the pleasure and developing associations with it and the images on the screen. Soon it would be time to start the auto-feedback.
He left her for now though, needing to attend to another patient.
6—Bovina
There was a knock at Spencer’s clinic door. A woman walked in with gigantic breasts. They hung off of her body, so large they totally displaced all of the rest of her, she was practically hidden behind them.
The only thing visible besides her breasts was her face from the nose up (her breasts were very perky) and below her breasts from her knees down. She smiled, although it could not be seen behind her very sprightly mams.
Her eyes were wide and her iris’s and pupils huge. When she spoke it was in a cooing, pleasant flowery tone, as though a golden liquid pouring into a stream.
“Is this women’s studies?” She asked, walking slowly into the room. Her massive proportions required her to walk very slowly to accommodate them.
Spencer nodded, “Yes, this is Women’s Studies, how can I help you…”
“Bovina.
Mrs.
“Ahh, a pleasure to meet you, I know your husband, a good man. I don’t remember working on you though…”
“My birth was handled by another Doctor.” Spencer nodded, knowing that by ‘birth’ she meant the surgery that transformed her from a woman to her current bovine form.
“Very well, how may I help your husband.”
“He would like you to perform a full exam on me.”
“Okay, head over to the bed.”
Spencer approached and ran a hand over Bovina’s chest, feeling the suppleness of the skin. “So far so good,” he said, taking his examining instruments and running them from the top of her massive chest slowly down to the bottom and then around underneath them. “Please lie down on the floor.”
Bovina did so carefully, sitting down on the bed and letting her humongous breasts rest fully on the floor.
“Thank you,” Spencer said, addressing her torso. He began a full medical exam, running every test for health, suppleness, development, and growth of her breasts he could think of. He ran a full battery.
The whole time that he was examining her he didn’t once take his eyes off of her breasts or acknowledge the rest of her body’s existence.
From the moment she had approached the bed until the time he finished he focused only on her breasts, giving them a thorough check up.
“Alright, all done. Your right half is a bit smaller than your left, and I recommend a change in diet to compensate, but other than that you are completely healthy. Congratulations on your new weight as well, I can see by your previous medical chart that you were a good twenty pounds lighter the last time you had a check-up.”
Bovina nodded, digesting all of the information to take back to her husband. She hesitated before saying “If I was in complete health my husband asked that you remove some of the, the tumors that have sprung up on my body.” She swallowed nervously.
Spencer smiled, glad that she had not failed the test. Her husband had been very explicit in his instructions over the phone, but he had needed to wait for the woman to ask for it herself.
Spencer stood up and walked around behind her, navigating around her huge protuberances. He touched her right arm, feeling its atrophied mass and making a clucking noise. “This large cancerous growth you have here will have to be removed to preserve your body.” Bovina nodded, trembling slightly.
Spencer wound a tourniquet around her shoulder, having to push her right breast out of the way in order to access it. He brushed the area off with iodine and then applied a topical anesthetic. Bovina cringed, knowing what was to come next.
Spencer slipped his goggles on and slipped the bone saw into position, aiming carefully and then moving quickly, cutting through the skin and bone fluidly and expertly.
A few minutes later Bovina was sans arm. Spencer cleaned and dressed the wound, injecting the area with a longer lasting pain suppressant.
He cleaned up a bit and then walked around behind her to the other side, lifting her left arm.
“Please, please Sir,” she said, looking up at him fearfully. “I, I need it to clean and cook,” she said, suddenly off-script. She had been obedient up to this point but could not bare to be so helpless.
“Nonsense,” Spencer said, cleaning the area and preparing the saw. “Your husband has classified you as bovine, which means that legally you are only entitled to possess mammories. The last part of the marriage requires that you are freed of blemishes.”
Bovina trembled but did not argue.
“You do want to be pretty for your husband don’t you?” Spencer asked.
She nodded, still trembling. Spencer injected the area with the anesthetic and set the saw.
“Good, then hold still and I’ll remove this ugly wart.” He quickly and efficiently removed her left arm, cleaning and dressing the wound left there as well.
“Alright then,” he said, taking out a lollipop and unwrapping it for her. He held it in front of her mouth and she eagerly accepted it.
“Mmmmm,” she said, smiling, it was cock-flavored.
“There you are: a treat for a well-behaved patient. We’ll have you back next week for your lower warts.” He indicated her legs.
----
“And now we will record your physiological information,” Spencer said, for use in classrooms.
“I have your vital statistics here and we’ll compare them to the idealized female form. Your bust measures an idealized D-cup after normalization.” Bovina frowned, feeling, despite the fact that her breasts were enormous, that, after normalization her breasts were kind of small. Maybe she would ask her husband for an upgrade.
“Your waist is 4 inches above ideal and your hips are 6
inches above,” Spencer concluded, after going through the difficult task of
parting the
Spencer inserted a bulb into her mouth and took her mouth capacity measurement. Next he checked her nostrils by inserting little bulbs into them and blowing up the bladders.
He continued on down her body, taking out a vaginal spectroscope and inserting it. “This will measure vaginal dilation and uterine capacity.” Bovina giggled, wriggling her crotch a bit as Spencer inserted the small wiggly device. It crawled up into her and began moving forward.
“If it feels crawly that is just the small treads,” he said.
Bovina frowned at the intrusion, and Spencer observed a map that was being made of her vagina. The bladder started to fill and her vagina began to stretch. “That will take awhile,” Spencer said, “it has to do its job very slowly so as not to tear anything.”
“I am recording all of this information for posterity. The men of Cherish have full access to this information. Your name and your identification will be freely available. All of your medical history will be public knowledge.”
Bovina nodded, she knew this already, it was public knowledge, just as her body was. They didn’t want young boys afraid of women’s mysteries, so they made sure to educate them early on about women.
It made sense to Bovina.
“Blown-up pictures of your vagina’s exterior and interior will be made available for teaching purposes and posters will be made for anatomy class.”
Bovina nodded again, regarding this as casual information. She knew that the boy’s middle school was planning on devoting a week in the next quarter studying her body.
Spencer continued examining her body, inserting a spectrometer into her rectum and gently guiding it in. “We’ll take and record these readings as well. We need to be thorough. It looks like your vaginal dilation is coming along well so we can start this one soon.”
In fact, Bovina continued in her train of thought, not even bothering to note the anal intrusion, the boy’s class was planning a field trip to her husband’s house to study her once she was installed properly in his lobby.
She frowned remembering the dreaded installation. She was still nervous about it. She imagined what life would be like once she was permanently fixed into the motorized conveyance that she had first learned about and been fitted for a few days ago:
When she got into it all parts of her except for her breasts had been sealed into a homeostatic wrapping of latex, while pipes for her lower plumbing took her waste, processed it, and mixed in feed and water to feed her a paste back up top.
Her husband had told her that she could remain in it full time once her ‘naughty bits’ had been removed; he had meant her limbs.
And while she loved her husband, dearly, she knew that men were the source of life and were a blessing to the female species, taking her and others of her wretched ilk and blessing them with the divine gifts of servitude and burden, but she wished sometimes that she didn’t have to be sealed up and locked away forever.
Her husband said that it was important to the ‘aesthetics,’ whatever that meant, but she knew that it was beyond her to even understand what he might mean, so small was her brain, so she didn’t question and instead had gone to the doctor as ordered and asked for him to prepare her for the next stage of her life.
She was only twenty and had been married and ‘developing’ for two years now (at eighteen she had already had a fourty inch bust, grown from puberty to enhance her marriage potential) and she was lucky to have met such a rich and powerful man to own her.
She considered herself fortunate, while he had three other wives she was his first Bovine. She smiled, her breasts were the largest in his household, and he had promised to make her the centerpiece of his lobby once she had been installed in her bridal gown (the encapsulating, mobile chair.)
So she smiled as she sucked on the cock-flavored sucker, happy remembering that after pouting the previous night she had won one accommodation from her husband. He had promised to leave her mouth unsealed when she was installed, allowing her the ability to ‘have people over’ whenever they passed by.
She was happy that she would still be able to ‘have conversations’ with men, receiving their godly blessing and basking in the divine acceptance of her seed.
She might have found any part of her situation strange if she had not lived in Cherish her whole life, had, in fact, graduated top of her class.
7—Eve 2.0
Spencer returned to Eve. He turned off the programming and unhooked her vaginal device.
He swiveled her around and began unlatching the mask from her face, removing the eye cups and the mouth and nose tubing first.
Left only with the blank, tight rubber mask on her face Eve breathes and hears freely for the first time in hours.
Spence picks up a large apparatus with lots of medical tubing dangling off of it and moves it towards her face. The tubes will go into different sockets and over her eyes…
Eve tenses as the thing nears certain that it is something horrible and sinister.
Instead it settles lightly over her face and Spencer begins putting the tubing gently up into her nose, settling the lids over her eyes, and gently guiding a thicker proboscis up into her mouth. Soft pads re-cover her ears, these ones thinner, so that she can hear both what they broadcast as well as his voice as he speaks to her.
“Now I’m going to play some simple stimulus for you and record your responses. Your honesty in your responses is important as it will help future generations learn about women more accurately.”
Eve didn’t understand, but she felt kind of relaxed… Future generations, understand women, what was he talking about? Was he going to use her as a teaching tool?
She wasn’t dumb, she knew that she had been reprogrammed, she could still remember everything that had happened, they hadn’t taken any of her memory…
So why did she not feel somehow different? She knew, intellectually, that she should, but instead she still felt… normal.
The brainwaves spiked again and Spencer admonished, “Stay calm, I’m not going to hurt you, we’re just going to talk.”
“Let’s see, I’ve already got most of your information here. Let me just take a couple of audio notes.” He turned to her and turned a switch on. A microphone began recording.
“What is your name,” he asked.
“Musss Mussss,” the tube in her mouth made talking fuzzy. She struggled to make the hard ‘zzz,’ sound. “Musss,” she frowned a bit, but continued, “Musss…” She couldn’t remember. The last part came out as more of a sigh than a hard word. Spencer nodded.
“Your name is Bimbi, Bimbi. What is your name?”
Eve scrunched up her face, that was not her name. Still, as she tried to think she couldn’t recall. She knew what her name was, but it just didn’t feel right.
She tried saying “Eve,” but a trigger in her brain made her feel a perplexing convulsion of nausea and discomfort. She changed tact and said “Bimbi,” instead, and felt a thrill of titillation follow.
Spencer nodded and filled the information out on the form.
“It had something else down here, so I had to cross that out. Let’s see what else is wrong. It says here you are a Feminist, is that right?”
Eve tried again, thinking ‘Feminist’ and having a red blur fill her mind. She knew the word, and the meaning, but again it felt like it was lost to her, that it felt beyond her.
“I…” she said, “I am…” she searched, thinking, settling on the first thing to feel right. “I’m a dumb bimbo, a bumbo.” She giggled a little at her joke, feeling a tingle grow in her pussy, once when she said that she was dumb, again when she said that she was a bimbo, and then again when she giggled.
She giggled again and again felt the tingle. Her eyes flashed.
“Now Bimbi, pay attention, its impolite to drift off when a man is talking.”
Eve felt that that was true, even though it seemed wrong. It felt true. She internalized it, mulling it over, digesting it, feeling the tingle grow and fill her. It was stronger, as though she were not just feeling pleasure on the outskirts of her pussy but also inside, the way her lesbian lovers, no, the way a man would do it to her.
She felt the glow widen and deepen as she mentally corrected herself. “Oh God,” she burbled. Spencer watched her face, she was near orgasm.
“Don’t say God, say Man.” Spencer wasn’t sure if this tumbling block was ready to fall yet, but it was an easy test with little lost if she refused… and if she accepted, it was a very efficient shortcut.
“Oh Man,” she said, breathlessly. She knew what she had done, she knew it, she had just deified Man, and mentally she knew that was wrong, horribly wrong, but the awakening part of her, and the part of her mind that appreciated how perverse it was to do so relished it.
She turned it over in her mind again, feeling the pleasure in her pussy rising and focusing, “Oh Man,” she said, feeding in on her mounting desire.
“Oh shit,” Spencer said, she was accelerating much faster than he had anticipated, apparently she had reached a critical mass and all of her previous inhibitions towards man’s governance were now fueling her burning, growing, overriding need to submit, to accept Man as her Lord God.
“Shit shit,” Spencer said, not ready yet for his role. He stood and tossed his papers to the side, unbuttoning his scrubs, revealing his slacks and slipping them off as quickly as he could.
Eve was nearing an event horizon, an epiphany, a climax, a new state of mind. Spencer started stroking his member, cursing himself for not being ready earlier, his self-discipline at clinical detachment instinctively subduing his libido. He needed to be hard now!
“Um,” he struggled to remember the words. He scanned the room for the book, the Book of Man. He found a copy, dog-eared, lying on top of the radiator. He hopped over to it, almost tripping over his underwear, and snatched it up. He breathed a sigh of relief, the radiator was not on.
He ambled back over to Eve, glad that she was not yet finished her transformation. She was almost ready though, it was as though she were about to emerge from a long slumber, or a cocoon. All of the programming had built up and built up and the subsequent interview was designed to trigger latent post-hypnotic suggestions all of which seemed to be happening way ahead of schedule.
It was, as Spencer has already postulated, almost as though the burden of being so hateful to Man had been lifted, and now that she was allowed to fully rejoice and worship in His name she was taking to it like Manna.
“Manna,” Spencer said, searching for the litany. Ah, he found it. He thumbed the page open and held it with his left hand. He closed his eyes and stroked his member, imagining Bovina from earlier, smiling at the remembered proportions and the feel of slicing through her arms.
He blinked open, his member rock-hard and primed. He reached out with his right hand and yanked the tubes from her face, tossing them off to the side so that they fell down about the table. He scanned to the right, picking up the metallic funnel shaped in the symbol of His religion.
“Man’s religion,” he said, and he placed the funnel over her face, guiding its many spouts to rest in the proper position. One large spout filled her mouth, other smaller ones fitted into her nostrils and other cupped ones fit over her eyes, resting just off of them. The device had one large receiving opening at the top would then divvy the contents to each apportioned place methodically.
Spencer then fell into the half-song half-speech litany familiar to church-goers. Eve immediately honed in on his voice, feeling his words fill her to the core, her pleasure burbling up, ready to vault her all the way.
“And into His arms,” Spencer intoned, positioning the funnel so that it drained properly into her mouth, “we give ourselves, we, the sheep, woman, His flock.” He paused and turned the page, blinking rapidly and continuing, trying to pace himself to finish the litany as she climaxed. Her post-hypnotic suggestions would help.
“And unto His care we grow, needy, sustained on Him and His Seed. we the lesser, we the…” He stopped as her voice took over, the words appearing before her brain, searing past her eyes, taking shape and form, and a hand guiding her:
“we the sheep, His flock,” she said, almost in a trance, the pleasure in her nether regions threatened to overwhelm her, she had never felt so alive.
“we thank Him for his Blessing, for the Seed of Life which we Cherish and accept from Him in all humbleness as a testament of His Mercy for us, the worms of the earth.”
Spencer was jerking violently now, knowing how close they were to the end of the ritual.
“woman, worm, worshiping beneath Him, He, the All-Holy, the Most Divine, provider of Grace and Sustenance, i receive His Blessing and i am grateful, thank Ye, Lord Man my God, for this, my daily Grace…”
Spencer spunked into the funnel, forcefully squirting, almost filling its ornate receiving chamber. The Holy Seed dripped down into the separate tubes, so that while most of it entered her mouth some of it entered her eyes and some of it entered her nose.
Eve climaxed as the Manna first touched her, feeling the transubstantiation occur and her body be made pure by the touch of Man’s Grace.
“I christen thee Bimbi, daughter of Adam.”
Bimbi blinked, feeling the sticky
substance entering her eyes. She
breathed, drawing the substance into her nasal passages. She chewed and swallowed, her voice trembling
as she spoke, picturing herself on her knees before an idealized
“ i am ready to spread Man’s Word Father.”
“You are ready to go out into the world and spread the Faith?”
“Yes Father.”
Spencer would test her Faith, starting her out teaching classes here in Cherish and then eventually in simulations designed to convince her that she was in the outside world, to see how she acted.
If she passed the tests successfully and could master the tact of keeping her teachings veiled until she had students alone and susceptible to cunning arguments she would be allowed back out into the world to continue her work.
She would still be known as Ms. Laut, and would still champion Women’s causes in the rest of the world just as she had done before her visit… but she would do so now with a new agenda, taking willful, headstrong feminists under her wings and sending them to Cherish for a proper education.
---
by Alex Streuth
Literary notes: Marla is so adorable; I could write a whole
story about her. Bovina, who wouldn’t
want her for a wife? That Dr. Spencer
though, he really steals Alex’s thunder in this one. Alex might be the idea man but as far as fixing
things is concerned the Spencer is the go-to guy. What he fixes stays fixed.
-AS
--
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written
adult story that allows the reader to indulge in 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 a comprehensive study.