"Becoming Cupcake"

Allison Anders was lost. Allison Anders was tired and hungry. Allison Anders was walking down the proverbial desert highway in search of an unclear future.

In short, Allison Anders was exactly where she wanted to be.

It had been close to seven months since she ran away from home in search of a music career. Home was not where the heart was. It was not in a house where a drunken man she cringed to even call "step-dad" used her ass as an ashtray coaster.

It had started just a couple months after her mother had taken ill with cancer. The man she called stepdad had quit all his sexual innuendos and sly glances. He had stopped pausing at her bedroom door to beat off as she pretended to sleep. And he had stopped pretending that he loved her mother. Rather, Allison's mom getting sick was the best thing that could've happened to him. She always figured that he hadn't really loved her mother anyway. She even imagined that it was her face that was really on his mind, every time he screwed her mom.

And who was to blame him? While Allison's mother was a looker back in her day... she had hit the wall. Too many years of drunken mourning over her husband's death had put her directly in the path of Lyle Corbett. Less than a year later, Lyle was Allison's new stepdad and the days of panty sniffing and late night ejaculations in their blue, carpeted hallway had begun.

Allison was her father's child. Yet she had her mother's looks. 5.6 in height, 118 pounds, B cup, and blonde hair which she wore almost shaved to the scalp. It was her look. And she didn't care what anyone felt about it. Allison never took to the baby jane look that so many aunts and uncles loved about her as a little girl. Rather, she rebelled against her looks. Never having a solid school life, Allison didn't fit in anyway. She had no strong friends to speak of and no hobbies or guys to fuss about.

Allison wasn't necessarily a tomboy. She liked boys alright. But she only respected musicians. It was what she strived to become after all. For her, getting wet over a guy meant listening to Billy Corgan's fake harmonic at the climax of the guitar solo for "Soma." It meant listening to John Lennon's voice crack. It meant taking Led Zeppelin's song "Going to California" literally.

And so hear she was, an acoustic guitar over her back that she was still learning to play... crumpled maps in her backpack along with a collection of lyrics, clothes and stolen 7-11 sandwich packs. She had crossed the California border from the southern part of the state while hitching a ride with a bunch of frat guys who ignored her B breasts, thin lips and short, "boyish" haircut, yet continually studied her hippie jeans and red cowboy boots with frowning faces and jock-type chuckles.

To this, Allison's reply would always be, "I'm a musician. Aren't I entitled to my own look?" But the "look" was just a cover for the fact that Allison was beyond desperate. Sure, she was finally in California. It had taken months of sleeping in motels, sneaking around, stealing food, and hitching rides across half the country to get here. But she was here. Still, L.A. was a long ways off. She had only ventured as far north as San Diego and still had a ways to go. Yet her destination seemed hopeless since Allison had lost a majority of the confidence that got her this far. Who was she fooling anyway? She wrote great lyrics, but her playing was only sub-par. She was no Jewel or Melissa Ethridge (two musicians that she despised) and her "look" was some sort of mesh of "country" meets "hippie".

Where the hell was she going on this road anyway?

The town loomed up in the distance. The road almost seemed to dead-end into it. It's front gate resembled something Disney World would use in Epcott Center for some new and futuristic culture.

The sun was high and Allison was starved and sweating beyond belief when she crossed through the gates of Cherish Valley. "The only thing I'd 'cherish' right now is a cold Gatorade," she thought.

Allison had entered some sort of circular town square, where multiple, paved roads went in three different directions. The statue in the town resembled a man looking powerful and awe-inspiring. In his right hand was a small globe and tucked under the nestle of his left was a wide-eyed woman, practically cowering in his protective embrace.

"A little sexist, eh?" thought Allison. Nevertheless, she quickly crossed the sparkling clean street of the town center and found herself on a semi-crowded sidewalk littered with coffee shops, Tofu restaurants, yogurt catteries and... more coffee shops. Bobbing in and out of the sidewalk patrons, Allison was greeted with cheerful smiles from women who looked like they had stepped out of a 1950's Playboy centerfold.

Frowning, Allison tried to push on to the nearest deli or bodega... but the nagging feeling like she was being (studied) watched kept pulling at her. Caught up in a rush of billowing skirts, floral patterned dresses, summer gloves, stockings, high heels, chokers, hair spray... Allison finally had to rest on the curb of the sidewalk. Her hunger and thirst temporarily put on hold. Something was wrong here.

Something was off about this town.

Suddenly a pink-gloved hand rested on Allison's shoulder and the smiling, beautiful face of a young woman knelt beside her, being careful not to let her dress touch the pristine pavement.

"Are you lost, dear stray?" asked the woman. "What did you call me?" asked Allison. And that was when things got weirder. For it seemed like every male eye was suddenly glued to her. A business man across the street had decided to lean against a mailbox and light a cigarette. The look on his face suggested that he was playfully waiting for something to happen.

An old store owner stepped out of his bakery to get some air. Or so it seemed at first, because now, he too, was watching Allison closely, an eager expression on his face.

Now the business man was stopping another man, dressed likewise. Pointing towards Allison, yet another set of eyes was now glued on her.

"I said, are you lost, dear tray?" asked the woman. "I was heading to the grocery market to fetch Bill some baked beans. He like, totally loves his baked beans."

Allison could only stare at this beautiful woman who spoke like some ditzy housewife, wondering where the hell she could possibly be. Everything seemed too perfect, yet off. Why was everyone looking at her? Sure, she didn't seem to fit in with the Barbie Doll type woman around her, but this was America. She wouldn't fit into an Amish society either. Yet she'd feel safer there than she felt right now.

And that was when it happened. Two men in white medical uniforms suddenly appeared from a crowd on the sidewalk across the street. Crossing the road, they seemed to mean business. And they were bearing down on Allison quick.

Before Allison knew it, she was on her feet, backing away with a confused look on her face. "We'll take over from here, Mrs. Wolstone." said the taller man in the medical clothes.

"Ohh, goody," said Mrs. Wolstone. "After all, I like, can't be late in getting back to my Bill." Clicking away in her 6-inch, pink high heels, Mrs. Wolstone waved a dainty, gloved hand at Allison. "Ta ta."

But Allison's attention was drawn to the two men who were now standing right in front of her. Backing away, she said, "Is there a problem? I was just catching my breath. I can leave if you want--"

A sharp prickly pierced her ass and that pristine concrete quickly swallowed Allison up.

Allison awoke in a most peculiar and uncomfortable position. She was lying, strapped to a board with her arms fastened at her sides. Some sort of choker around her neck stopped her from tilting her head too far forward. Yet the gesture would prove fruitless as the board was in a vertical position.

Standing before her was a short, balding man with a name tag that said "Dr. Gruber" on it. Gruber was dressed in a white medical suit and held a clipboard out before him. Beside him was an even shorter man who looked to be in his mid 60s. Wrinkled more than he should be, the man hunched over and wore a sly, almost toothless grin behind his pasty, old lips. His few remaining white hairs, sprouted out from his pockmarked head in several directions. He was dressed as a golfer and held a cane.

"Ahh, she awakens." said Dr. Gruber.

"Where the hell am I?" demanded Allison.

"Silence, slut. You don't get to ask any questions. Just lie there and take in your surroundings. We'll do all the talking." said Gruber.

Allison began to grow very worried. More worried than she was just five seconds ago. Something in Gruber's cold, calculated stare and the way he had addressed her as "slut" just now unsettled her. He seemed way too professional and her suspicions that this was more than just an unorthodox kidnapping grew by the second.

"But I don't--"

"Melvin, you were right. I guess we should've gagged her after all." said Gruber. Gruber produced some sort of plug gag from his coat pocket. It was pink at the head and had a white leather strap. Handing the gag to Melvin, Gruber continued to study Allison's body, taking notes as he did.

Melvin meanwhile seemed like a kid on Christmas morning. "Thank you, Dr. Gruber. This is getting better by the minute." Melvin hobbled over to Allison's naked, strapped body and leaned his cane against her crotch. Fiddling with the gag, Allison could only stare at it in shock as she realized that a rather long dildo was attached to its end.

Staring into Melvin's watery eyes, Allison was about to plead when Melvin pinched her nose and stretched open her mouth. Shoving the pink dildo deep into her mouth, he fastened the strap around the back of her head, pulling it super tight. "Although I hate her hair, Doc... I must say that it's easier buckling the gags."

"You like having them gagged don't you, Melvin?"

"Yep, but like you said before... the dental treatment is easier. I like it when they get to eat cock all day." Chuckled Melvin.

"So I take it we'll be making a cast of your..." Gruber pointed a finger at Melvin's crotch.

Melvin chuckled again, spraying spittle all over Allison's gagged face. Coming off tippy toes, Melvin tapped Allison on the nose and then regained his flat footing. "No... I'm afraid you'll have to make it a little bigger." Melvin looked sad.

"Ohh, come, Melvin." said Gruber. "She'll love it no matter how big it is. After we extract all her teeth, she won't care how small you are. She'll suck that cock of yours like there's no tomorrow. And when she's not sucking, she'll be wearing a mouthful of fused dentures that don't open with an even bigger cock filling her mouth.... all day long."

"But I want her to speak sometimes, Doc. I like how stupid they sound when they try to make sense. So put a check under "lispy voice" on that form of yours."

Allison writhed into her gag. Her fear replaced by anger as she twisted her face back and forth, screaming into the dildo that filled her mouth.

"Ooooh, she's a wild one, Grube." said Melvin.

"Most strays are. They wander away from their homes thinking this world will open its kind arms to them. And then they cross our front gates and we have one more wife, one more waitress, one more maid, one more slut to add to our population. I've always adored the Cherish Stray Retain System." said Gruber.

Melvin meanwhile, had found a new home for his cane. Jiggling the steal head of it into Allison's nether lips, Allison struggled the best she could. And then Melvin cut with the teasing and rammed the cane as far into Allison's cunt as he could.

"MPPPGHHHHHHHH!!!" was the only sound Allison could make as Melvin slowed down the pace, fucking the young runaway with the head of his cane. "Such a naughty girl, my Cupcake is." said Melvin.

Dr. Gruber just shook his head back and forth, grinning as if he had seen this very same scene many times before.

"Okay, let's go over this again. I already know that Gina's death had a small effect on you. You complained numerous times that she was unfit for your extreme tastes."

Pumping away at Allison still, Melvin said, from over his shoulder, "Yes, she was a good little bimbo for the first few years. But I grew tired of her. I don't like em' old."

"Well, Gina was your wife. And she was also one of our first cases. So you have to understand our clause. The Cherish amendments board states that you have to fulfill a pre-determined amount of time with your wife unless she was brought on by the town committee to serve as your--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Melvin waved Gruber off. "Let's just get this one right." Melvin began stroking Allison's tear-stained face, still fucking her with the cane with his other hand.

Gruber went back to Melvin's form. "Well, okay. It says here you like her height, but you want her weight down to 108. You have tits set at 34E. Good choice."

"Thank you," grinned Melvin, poking a finger into the nipple of Allison's B cups. Spraying Allison with more spittle, Melvin leaned into her face again and whispered, "I like big boobies... and so will you, my little bimbo." Allison whipped her head away, wondering when the hell she would wake up from this insane nightmare.

Gruber continued, "Level 3 collagen lip enhancement. Doll eyes, raised cheek bones, platinum hair graft, 18 inch waist..." Gruber looked up. "You realize that if you want her by the end of the month, we're going to have to take two ribs out to get that waist down?"

Allison's eyes went wide as Melvin nodded impatiently. "Of course I know that. And make sure that you get her ass into a nice, heart-shaped bubble."

"Come now, Melvin, you know that's standard."

Melvin made a sarcastic face, Ohh, yeah. Of course.

"As for her intelligence... we scanned her at a 145 IQ. Pretty impressive. She was a drop-out, but most 140's usually are. Pity they never realize how smart they really are." Gruber chuckled.

"I don't care if she could've earned a Pulitzer Prize. I want this girl brainless."

"Of course, Melvin, of course." Gruber jotted down some quick stats as Allison watched on in horror. He had mentioned IQs.... did that mean they were going to operate on her brain? What about her music career? Her writing? Her life?

Almost as if he was reading her mind, Melvin leaned in one final time and sprayed a wet whisper in her face, "You gonna be my little airheaded Barbie Doll, aren't you, Cupcake?"

And then Melvin licked the side of Allison's face, leaving a long line of drool which collected at her chin and dripped on to her nipple.