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                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Kafka Dreams (Fdom)
A fantasy by Peter Tupper, Copyright 1995
The THC Adult Text Archive

**
     

     This story was inspired by a very special women, who knows 
who she is.	

     I think the real reason they gave me all those forms was so
I had lots and lots of time to back out.  After several hours of
reading, signing, thumb-printing and other bureaucratic baffle-
gab, I was so bored that I had to think about what was going to
happen.
     I shoved the last sheaf of paperwork to one side and looked
at you.  You had your own, only slightly smaller pile of forms to
fill out.  
     "Won't you give me a little hint, please?" I asked.
     You shook your head.  "It's a surprise."  We'd been
planning this for years, and though you had never told me what I
would be after the Change, I still agreed to it.
     Further conversation was forestalled when the door opened.
     The nurse was an exotic, like I would be when I woke next. 
Nearly two meters of lithe supple body, covered in silky golden
fur, she was astonishing.  The long tail, twitching as she
glided into the room on digigrade feet, the large slit eyes and
forward-cupped ears made her enticingly alien.  Even her adorable
little muzzle kept making me wonder what it would be like to kiss
it.
     She placed a glass of something brown on the table.  "Here
you go."  Her voice was a soft, sensuous purr.  "Chocolate
flavored, just like you asked."
     "That's it?"
     "That's it.  Drink that fairly quickly, then count backwards
from one hundred.  We'll do the rest."
     I anxiously nudged the condensation-wet glass.  One
chocolate shake was going to change my body completely.
     "I must remind you," the nurse said formally, "that by law,
once you have undergone Change, you are forbidden to undergo
another Change of any nature for a period of five years.  Do you
understand this?"
     I nodded.  "Yes, I do."
     "Do you wish to proceed with this Change?"
     You squeeze my hand reassuringly.  "Yes, I'm going to do
it."
     "Very well.  I'll leave you two alone now."  To you, she
said, "When he's asleep, let us know immediately."
     "Understood," you answered, not taking your eyes off me.
     The nurse glided out again.
     You put a strong, reassuring arm around my shoulders.  I
wanted to say something, but words seemed inadequate.  And that
was the whole point of this, wasn't it?  Only offering up my
body to be reformed to you specifications would express what I
felt for you, what you meant to me.
     "It's OK," you said softly, and hugged me.  I sobbed into
your shoulder.  Something was changing inside me already, or
maybe it had always been different.  The fact that I had not the
slightest clue as to what I would be when I woke up made it all
the more... "transcendental" comes to mind.  Terrifying and
ecstatic all at once.
     After what seemed like a long time, my breathing slowed to
something like normal.  You stroked my hair and gave me a warm,
tender kiss.  
     I lay back into the hospital bed and picked up the glass. 
You squeezed my hand again as I took a tentative sip.  It tasted
just like an ordinary chocolate shake.  Pretty good, actually.
     "Mmm, maybe I should have sip," you joked.  I laughed
nervously, and take a couple of big gulps.
     I finished it, and relaxed even further.  "Alea jacta est,"
I murmured.  You took the cup out of my already limp hand.
     I remember looking up at your face, glowing with devotion,
as I began counting.  "Hundred... ninety-nine... ninety-eight...
ninety-seven...
                          *     *     *
     As I drifted back to wakefulness, I kept thinking of
spending the night at my grandmother's house.  She always put out
crisp, clean sheets and blankets for me, and waking up was a
wonderful sensation, a mixture of the feel of the sheets, the
smells of grandmother's delicious breakfasts, the birds chirping
outside....
     Wait, that was years ago.  I came to full wakefulness
abruptly, jolted out of a pleasant, very real memory to my
present reality.
     I looked up at the ceiling, hands slightly clenching the
bed spread.  I _felt_ like me, still; no immediate differences
were apparent.  No new appendages were squeezed when I rolled
over.
     A small sound made me aware I wasn't alone.  You sat at my
bedside, chin on your chest, an abandoned pad on your lap,
asleep.  For some reason, looking at you while you were unaware
always made me uncomfortable.  I turned over and faced the
windows.  After a while, I climbed out of bed, still a little
fuzzy-headed and careful not to make the bed creak and wake you.
     There was a full length mirror, of course.  After some
girding of loins, I looked at myself.  Nothing looked different;
my body was hairless save for scalp and eyebrows, but I had been
shaving and depilating habitually for years now.  My head hair
was the same length, quite short with a little extra in the back. 
I pirouetted, revealing nothing odd.  I was prepared for a tail,
but I didn't want wings.  Winged exotics were always a little sad
to me; there had yet to be one that could even manage a decent
glide.  No fur, scales, leatherskin, plasticskin, not even a
piercing or tattoo.  Rather anti-climactic, after all that
preparation.
     You stirred.  I came to you just in time to keep the pad
from crashing to the floor.  Quickly, I arranged myself so that
the first thing you saw upon waking was your obedient and adoring
slave kneeling before you.
     Eyes still closed, you stretched, then opened your eyes. 
You smiled warmly.  "Hello, dearest."
     "Good morning, Mistress."  I delicately kiss your foot.
     You reached down and stroked my hair.  "How do you feel?"
     "Like myself, so far.  I'm sure there are changes that
aren't visible."
     You smiled devilishly, and tap your foot once.  "You can get
back into bed.  The doctor will be here in a minute to brief you
about your new body."
     I stand up and nod.  "If I may be excused for a moment?"
     "Certainly."
     I quickly went to the adjoining bathroom and relieved
myself.  I recalled that when the nano-machines that preform the
Change are finished, they are disassembled, filtered out of the
blood by the kidneys and urinated away.  This created a rather
bizarre image in my mind.
     When I returned to the hospital room, a man who was
obviously a doctor sat rather uncomfortably across from the bed. 
By long experience, I could tell that he disapproved with our
type of relationship, even if they have been legally recognized
for years now.
     I slid into the bed and pulled the crisp covers up to my
waist, and you perch on the bed, one warm, tender arm over my
shoulder possessively.
     "Ah, carry on, Doctor," you say with that regal tone.
     "Ahem, yes," he says, apparently disturbed by the sight of
you and your naked customized boy toy.  "The greatest reworking
as been the modifications to your nervous system, specifically,
your sense of touch.  Most of your skin now has a density of
tactile receptors equal to that of your palms previously.  The
exceptions are the soles of your feet, which now have
artificially grown calluses--"
     I reached under the cover and felt my soles, now as tough
and thick as leather.
     "No shoes, now," you interject.  "I like you barefoot."
     The doctor continued.  "Another skin modification is the
artificial strain of symbiotic bacteria that has been introduced
to your sweat glands, which will consume the bacteria that would
normally grow in sweat.  You will still perspire, but without
odour.  All hair follicles, apart from your scalp and eyebrows,
have been removed.  Your head hair has also been modified to
grow, at most, two centimeters a year."
     Your dislike of long hair in men is something I've never
understood, but I've always obeyed, having kept my hair in a buzz
cut for years now.  You affectionately scratch me behind my ear.
     "The second major modification was to your anus," the doctor
continued.  "The lining of your rectal cavity has been both
toughened and sensitized, roughly on par with an unChanged female
vagina.  The sphincter muscle has been altered to open much
wider, and the concentration of nerve receptors in the prostrate
is vastly increased."
     "Makes getting inside you less of a chore and more of a
pleasure," you comment again.  
     I suddenly became acutely aware of my ass, and tried to
remember if it felt different from before.
     "Which leads to your digestive system.  Your intestinal
bacteria have been augmented with artificial strains of much
greater efficiency.  You will require much less food, perhaps one
full meal each day."
     "And you'll be clean and empty almost all the time," you
added happily.  "Less fuss, less muss."
     "Another metabolic alteration was improving the efficiency
of your exothermic system, increasing your temperature tolerance
in both directions greatly."
     "So you can wear skimpy little outfits year round and not
freeze," you cut in again.  I got the impression that you'd
planned on telling me about everything, or more likely letting me
find out about things as we went, but the doctor had insisted on
briefing me.
     "Now the brain alterations."
     Something inside my head began to itch.
     "Your limbic system has also been rerouted, strengthening
the link between pain and pleasure centers."
     "Heh heh," you snickered evilly.
     "So I'll have orgasms when I stub my toe?" I asked.
     "No, in most psychometabolic states your pain receptors are
as before.  However, when aroused, your pain threshold increases
greatly, and stimulus fires neurons in your pleasure centers as
well.  There's also a different 'flavor`, so to speak, to pain,
that will help you distinguish and control your sensations.
     "Your sleep cycle has also been altered.  You only require
four hours a day of sleep, and can go several days with only
brief naps without ill effects.  You will be in constant REM
sleep during all that time, so you will not suffer the effects of
dream deprivation, though you will be dreaming very intensely."
     "Oh, boy, stick out your tongue," you ordered.
     I reflexively obeyed.  Something red jumped into my field of
vision; my tongue!  I slapped my hands over my mouth.
     "A five centimeter extension.  Very popular."  You gave me
your brand-new-toy smile.
     "How can I talk properly with that?" I asked.  My mouth felt
normal, but I had to suppress an urge to search around in there.
     "There's a small implant computer overriding your
extrapyramidal motor system for your vocal apparatus," the
doctor explained.  "It reads what you want to say, and then
transmits the nerve impulses for your new vocal arrangement to
say it.  It will slowly hand over control to you, as you learn,
and when it is no longer needed, it will disintegrate and be
naturally excreted."
     "Uh huh," I said absently.  This was all starting to be a
little too much for me.
     "There is also the--" the doctor began.
     "That's all he needs to know for now.  That will be all,
Doctor," you said in your quietly dominant voice, while stroking
my hair.
     He coughed.  "Well, yes.  This contains the full
documentation for your new body."  He put a data disc on the
bedside and left rather hurriedly.
     "Narrow minded little..." You muttered, peeved.
     You hugged me again.  "Feeling OK now?"
     I nodded.  "I guess so.  I don't think I'll adjust very well
if I stay here.  May we go now?"
     "Certainly.  I brought some of your things," you said as you
helped me out of the bed.
     There was a pair of tight blue cotton pants and a white
athletic top resting folded on a chair, with my bracelet and my
collar on top.  Reverently, i picked up the collar with both
hands and knelt before you, holding up the collar above my bowed
head.  You took it and fastened it about my neck, as only you
have the right to do.
                          *     *     *
     On the drive back, my head still slightly fuzzy from the
shock, I kept having powerful memories.  Touch mnemonics, I
realized.  Tactile sensations are one of the strongest memory
triggers, and with my new skin I kept having recollections.  The
feel of your car's upholstery had me thinking about the black
vinyl seats of my mother's old car apped out
before I came back to the here and now.  I hastily got out and
followed you, hoping I would adapt to or learn to control the
Change.
     In the foyer, I gratefully fell into the old routine, taking
your coat and shoes.  You kept teasing me, scratching my head as
I knelt for your shoes and squeezing my butt as I turned to the
closet.  I smiled, knowing there was much to look forward to
tonight.
     Walking after you, I kept glancing down at my bare feet.  It
felt like I was stepping on thick carpet in sneakers, there was
so little sensation, even though it was my soles on brick tile. 
I expected even gravel would feel like plain earth now.
     In the living room, you turn and face me, formally.  "Boy,
I have some business to attend to in the next few hours.  You
have free time until you must begin preparing dinner.  After
dinner, you will attend me in my chamber."
     "Yes, Mistress," I said, with a hint of a smile.  Attending
you in your chamber is easily my favorite duty.
                          *     *     *
     After closing your bedroom door after you, I quickly strip
down as you watch, then buckle on my wrist cuffs, my only
covering apart from my collar.
     Following the deeply ingrained pattern, I gracefully and
efficiently took down your hair and undressed you, careful not to
look directly at you naked, then fetched the black and white
night dress from the wardrobe.  I kept my eyes shut as I did the
ties up the front, then dropped down to kneel before you.
     You walked leisurely around me a few times, silent.
     "My pretty, customised sex toy.  Just my slightest touch--"
You ran a fingertip along my shoulder, leaving a red glowing
strip in my mind.  "--makes you crave more, mhm?"
     "Oh, yes please."
     "Third position," you ordered.  
     I quickly rose to my feet, stood up straight and clasped my
hands behind my head.  
     "You know, I could be very cruel with you.  For example, I
could bind you and stroke you all over, but never touch your cock
and leave you just on the edge of coming for hours on end.
Wouldn't that be sweet agony, boy?"  You stroked downward and
fondled my asscheeks.
     "If it pleases you, Mistress."
     "Hmm," you said behind me.  "You ass is quite unadorned. 
I'll have to rectify that."
     An arc of force slams into me, hard and stinging.  Your
favorite flogger, I realized.  You start much harder than usual,
with barely any warm up, but pleasure begins to overtake my pain
much sooner than before.
     I staggered a bit, having no support against the impact, but
you've trained me to take whippings while standing.  Before long,
my ass has the warm, prickly burn I've come to savour.  I can
even feel the air move a fraction of a second before the flogger
hits.
     You stopped, and a tiny sound of yearning escaped me.  Your
fingers felt my reddened and sensitised ass again.  "Ahh, that
should make some lovely bruises tomorrow."  You stepped closer,
behind me.
     "Tell me what you feel."  Your breath on my neck alone made
me hope this never ends.
     I swallow hard.  "It's as if-- I'm seeing with my skin.  I
know the air is moving around me, cold air falling, warm air
rising, the little swirls where they meet.  Just being near you I
can feel your body heat.  All this going on around me, all the
time, and I never knew.  This must be what getting cataracts
fixed feels like."
     "Touch me," you said, guiding my hands around your waist.
     A soft "Ahhh" escaped me, as my even more sensitive hands
roamed across the silk-over-skin.  I ran my palms up and down
your back, then your shoulders, feeling the shoestring straps
roll under my fingers.
     "I can feel your heart beating and your lungs moving, even
your blood circulating.  Its like I can see inside you with my
hands."
     "Ick," you commented, with a laugh at your voice.  "Like a
cadaver."
     "No, it's beautiful.  Not all cut open.  I can feel the
bones and muscles and the blood-- needs more lyrical words--
everything working to keep you alive."  I kissed your smooth
shoulder and neck, revelling in your natural scent and the feel
of blood and air quickly circulating beneath your skin.
     "And now, let's try one of the new additions."  You sat on
the edge of your bed, spread your legs, and moved your camisole
apart.  I knelt before the altar of my goddess, already gleaming
with moisture, and planted a row of kisses along your supple
inner thighs, then moved directly in.
     Apparently the implant computer was just fine for helping
with talking, but not with 'mouth dancing.'  My new tongue was
horribly awkward; I jabbed you a couple of times with far too
much force.  I glanced up, apologetic, but you smiled and patted
my head.  The feedback system, working its own magic in my mind,
helped, letting me figure out even more.  After a while, I
managed to find the old familiar rhythm and even did some novel
variations on it, reaching spots I could only access with my
fingers before.  My tongue was as long as a finger, but without
bones or a fingernail.
     "Mmm, feels nice," you said, hooking your knees over my
shoulders.
     "Thank you, Mistress," I murmured into you, my face lovingly
smeared with your essence, and resumed.
     After a while, longer than usual probably from having to
adjust to my new tongue, you clutch my face harder to you.  I
give you the exact strokes you need, and hold my breath as you
ride your orgasm out.
     After your contractions, I kept up very light kissing and
licking on your inner thighs, waiting until you had come down far
enough for me to start again.
     "No, that's enough for now," you said, your face still
flushed, and patted the bed.  "Up here and lie down."
     When I was lying down before you, you briskly clipped my
wrist cuffs to the eye bolt attached to the headboard, then ran
your hand down my chest, pausing to pinch each nipple.  You turn
away to the bedside drawer and come back with an emery board held
between two fingers.  I licked my lips in anticipation, knowing
how devilishly clever you could be with such a simple implement.
     "Tell me how you came to be like this," you commanded,
kneeling over me and running the tip of the file down my sternum
and belly.
     "Five years ago, you found me.  You gave me purpose and
focus, took something rough and incomplete that would have come
to nothing and made it clean and whole and strong."
     You traced the emery board in a figure eight around my
pectorals, leaving a thread-thin trail of what felt like fire.
     "Four years ago, you took possession of me, and though I was
shared with others, I grew and prospered under your care and
control."
     The board draws little baroque curlicues on the even more
sensitive skin of my underarms.
     "Three years ago, I foreswore all others, and gave myself to
you, body and mind.  You accepted to my joy, and to my greater
rapture, you deemed me your favorite."
     You guide the emery board down my stomach, circle my navel
once then mercilessly tease and poke my cock.
     "Two years ago, i asked you to Change me.  What my mind had
become, under your control, was trapped inside an inadequate
body.  You refused, for reasons I never understood."
     The board zips across each nipple in rapid succession,
making them even more engorged and sensitive.
     "A year ago, i begged you to Change me.  You agreed, and
spent the next year designing my new body."
     You stroke the board along my jugular, prodding just enough
to feel my pulse.
     "Yesterday, I was changed to the image you designed.  I am
truly yours now, every part of my mind and body is tied to you."
     The sharp edge of the emery board meanders its way up onto
my face and circles my mouth.  Then, to my surprise and joy, you
bestow one of your rare and precious kisses upon me.
     You stay like that, your chest resting lightly on mine, your
hair falling down like a curtain around our faces.  "Just that
you were willing to let me do this was enough to make you so
precious to me.  I even thought of forgetting the Change and just
being happy with the fact you would do it for me.  But I knew how
much that would hurt and disappoint you.  And I would never
really hurt you, even with all the whips and chains."
     "I know that," I said.  I could almost feel little static
sparks between us.  Impulsively, I kissed you, the first time I
had ever done so.  Heavenly.
     After an uncounted time, you break away, your nipples poking
out through your camisole, and turn to the drawer again.
     I swallowed a few times as you smoothed a long slick latex
glove over your careful manicure.  "Don't worry, I'll keep
filing my nails down in the future."  You gave my butt a playful
swat, another jolt of pain-pleasure.  "Roll over and spread 'em,
boy."
     I complied.  My entire backside exposed to you, I already
felt opened and vulnerable.  I twitched when you slapped a thick
handful of cold lube onto my anus and work it in tenderly but
firmly.  When you started working in your fingers, one at a time,
I felt myself loosening much faster than usual.
     When I had loosened enough to accommodate four fingers
easily, you said, "You ready?" your voice husky with excitement.
     My mouth hung open, but I swallowed and gasped, "Yes, oh
please."
     You kissed my shoulder and slowly pushed your fingers in as
I moaned.  You went a little faster than you usually did, but
there still wasn't the undertone of almost-pain when you use my
ass, just the feeling of penetration, welcome invasion.  Your
knuckles slipped in, and your hand curled into a fist.
     We lay there, locked together, your hand in me, your strong
warm body along mine.  I felt a thousand subtle things I've
missed before.  You made your fist expand and contract ever so
slightly, like a second heart inside me, then gently rocked back
and forth, just a tiny bit, and my body arched, my arms pulling
against their bonds.
     You tenderly nibbled on my earlobe and increased the tempo
as I gasped little half words.  That disturbing image that always
flickers into my mind when we do this, that of you somehow
pushing in further, up my spine until you finally can knead my
brain, appeared briefly, but passed.
     Something tiny inside me flared into white hot
incandescence, a sunburst that spread through my entire body,
burning away the waste and grime and dirt and leaving only the
clean and pure, to mesh smoothly.
     Some time later, I became aware of the world outside the two
of us again.  You kissed my shoulder, and I whispered rather
hoarsely, "Thank you, Mistress."
     I felt you smile against my shoulder, somehow.  "My
pleasure."  Your hand made one more gentle push inside me, then
slowly and carefully eased out.  Why did it feel like you were
going in, as usual?  I heard you stripping off the glove and
dropping it in the sealed waste basket, then your arms went
around me, tender but strong, and I wished I could stay like that
forever.
     When we both had calmed down again, you released my wrists
from the head board.  I stretched a bit, working out the kinks,
then reached for the box of kleenex on the bedside.  I felt the
sheets, then my cock.  Both were dry.  I looked over my shoulder
at you.  "But how...?"
     "Its called retrograde ejaculation.  Your semen goes into
your bladder and is reabsorbed.  It feels the same, so I'm told
anyway, and it doesn't interfere with your normal production of
androgens, but it's a very effective contraceptive and stops
transmission of body fluids.  Plus we don't have to have all that
kleenex handy.  It also--"  You reached around with your free
hand and gave me a loving stroke that made me gasp again.  "--
increases staying power.  You can finally keep up with me.
     "And I--"  You rolled onto your back and spread your legs. 
"--feel like another round."
     "Yes, Mistress," I said happily, moving into position. 
                          *     *     *
     I carefully sprinkled a few grains of sugar on my open palm,
put the sugar bowl back and wait, eyes closed and perfectly
still.  A cool breeze blew through the kitchen screen door from
the back yard.  I had woken at the crack of dawn, though I felt
well rested, and luxuriated in bed with you for a few hours. 
After carefully extricating myself from your embrace, I did my
morning jiu jitsu katas in the gym, then padded into the kitchen. 
Tea and half a bagel had sufficed for breakfast.  I whiled away
the early morning going over my new "owners manual", sorting
through the medical jargon to get at what this would actually
mean to me.
     After a while, the fly I had spotted buzzing around the back
porch flitted in.  It hopped about the table for a while, then
eventually lit on my hand, did that little hand-washing thing
they do, and skittered along my heart line to the sugar.  
     By the sound of the door and a change in the air, I could
tell you had awakened and entered the kitchen.
     "What are you doing?" you asked quietly, still by the door.
     My eyes still closed, I told you, "I can feel its legs work. 
All six of them, in this weird little rhythm.  Dee-da-dee-da-dee-
DA, dee-da-dee-da-dee-DA, only faster."
     Then, for a reason that would only make sense to another
fly, I felt it spread its tiny wings and buzz away.  The spell
broken, I opened my eyes and looked at you.  "I've been reborn
into polymorphous perversity, or polymorphous eroticism, rather. 
I may have to dust off Freud."
     "Something's wrong, though," you prompted, sitting down
across from me.
     I hesitated.  "I keep remembering that autostimulation and
the like is exhibited by some types of autistics.  Just keeps
nagging at me.  I want to go out and..." I searched for an idea. 
"get covered in warm mud.  Walk naked in summer rain.  Get
mummified in cling wrap.  Hey, there was dewy grass out there an
hour ago, and I missed it."
     "There will be more tomorrow.  And let me make myself clear
that I don't want to come home and find you and the whole kitchen
smeared with assorted foodstuffs."
     I adopted my hurt-puppy-look.  You tap me lightly on the
forehead and mock-order, "Get me breakfast, slave!  And until I
say so, you can only crawl!"
     I smile and drop to my hands and knees.  As usual, I get the
last word in our relationship.  "Yes, Mistress."
