Peter Marks had been waiting for this day for over two years.
Ever since his father, the rich and respectable Michael Marks, had revealed what he “really” did at the “office,” Peter had thought about what it would be like to have such absolute, God-like power over another person-the ability to change that person’s body, not just it’s form but how it responds, what messages are sent to the brain, how messages from the brain are interpreted.
And then there was the fact that this was being done to women. His father had dubbed it “femforming” in the discreet sales materials, and the name (as silly as it sounded) had stuck. Just thinking about the process caused a stirring in Peter’s loins. That he could make a woman a prisoner of her own body-change how she moved, what she felt, adjusting her bodily impulses to his whim. And then send her off to spend the rest of her usable life-five to ten years-as the sex toy of one of the rich and powerful men (and women!) who were the customers of his father’s company, before being “rehabbed”—the changes undone, her brain stripped of the memories of the past years, and then returned to her former life, or whatever was left of it. In fact, most of the women were returned slightly “improved”—younger and healthier than they would have been, more submissive, with greater sex drive and greater sexual sensitivity. Peter’s father figured that, this way, no one would complain.
His father was grooming him to one day take over for him, and to that end he insisted that Peter begin by learning first-hand what they did and how it worked. At the end of the first year, his father commented that Peter had never studied harder in his whole life; but then, he had never had something so powerfully motivating him. His instructors said that, at least in the simulations, he was an expert at femforming. And today would be his first “solo flight,” where he would actually be at the console and in total control of how this particular woman would experience her body for her new life. Even the extremely accurate simulations, as stimulating as they were, couldn’t compare with this moment.
And perhaps the most incredible part-the “moonwalk,” as everyone liked to call it. His consciousness would be temporarily inserted into the subject’s body so that he could fully test the results. Before the moonwalk, there had been several incidents of women “faking” the results, pretending that certain settings were too extreme or that others were more effective than they actually were. With the moonwalk, all guesswork was taken out-the architect, as it were, could actually experience first-hand the effects of his work. And, at the same time, the femformer was in for an incredible ride! He couldn’t wait.
And now he didn’t have to wait any longer. It was time. As Peter opened the door to forming room seven, David, his teacher, rose from in front of the console to greet him.
“Well, you look a little excited. Are you all ready?”
“Yeah, I’ll say I’m ready. I’ve been ready for months now,” replied Peter, obviously annoyed that David hadn’t allowed him to start until he was sure that Peter was entirely familiar with all elements of the procedure.
“Ahh, that’s good!” David ignored Peter’s annoyance and directed him to the console. “I’ve got the preliminary programming entered according to your specs. It’s all ready for you.” He pressed a button on the console and spoke into a microphone. “Tom, you can bring in subject jay-three-seven.”
A door opened in the back of the room and a tall, burly man led an obviously fearful and distressed woman into the room and began strapping her to the brace, an upright structure that held the victim in a standing position. She looked frantically about the room, settling her gaze apprehensively on Peter, David, and the console. Peter looked at her with a kind of dispassionate interest. She was pretty, with long honey blonde hair, classic features, and a slender, well-proportioned body. Nothing that couldn’t be improved on, he chuckled to himself as he smiled back at her mischievously. She began to protest and plead toward the two men, but became silent again at a look and a gesture from the guard.
Once she was strapped in, David went over to inspect the subject.
“Please,” she pleaded, “what am I doing here? What are you going to do to me? Please let me go!” David ignored her completely as he methodically examined her features and her body. Peter spoke up in mock-consoling tones. “Now don’t you worry there, babe. You’re in for quite a treat. By the time I get done with you, you’ll be a whole new person. You’re just gonna love the new you!” The woman’s eyes widened and she began sobbing and frantically trying to free herself. Peter entered a few keystrokes and twisted a knob, and the woman’s face slowly relaxed and her writhing stopped. She appeared to be almost asleep.
“What did you do?”, David asked, obviously somewhat worried.
“Oh, just lowered her reticular activating system activity. She’s still slightly conscious, but she thinks she’s dreaming.”
“Oh, okay…well, then, let’s get to work.”
Peter was momentarily bemused by David’s apparent concern, but he shrugged it off and began entering parameters into the console. “Okay, first let’s adjust her body shape. Umm...her face is too intelligent and adult-looking. Let’s see…a little mouth with big, pouty lips. Big, wide eyes. Little Barbie-doll nose. Long, fluffy hair. Golden skin.” As he made each adjustment, the woman’s face morphed before them, changing from that of an intelligent, “grad student” type to an overly cute “beauty queen bimbo” type. It was, frankly, a face that anyone of intelligence would be hard pressed to take seriously. “Now on to the body. Bigger hips, of course And a nice, big round ass, long Barbie-doll legs, a tiny little waist and…” This was the part he was especially looking forward to “…larger breasts.” Her small, shapely B-cup breasts began to swell as her hips began to fill out and her waist became impossibly small. As her breasts became larger, the sheer weight of them began to cause them to droop. Peter made a quick adjustment, and the twin orbs began to rise to attention even as they continued to swell past Barbie to Dolly proportions and beyond.
“I put a lot of time into calculating the best balance between firm, perky breasts while still providing a great deal of bounce and jiggle. It’s an engineering problem, really.” Peter’s eyes were lit up and he had an absorbed, lustful look on his face. As the breasts continued to rise through the various cup sizes to the point where they dominated her form, he continued to make adjustments until he was satisfied. “And lastly, large, prominent nipples-the kind you just can’t hide.” Her nipples obliged, poking out severely.
“Now we’ve got to apply the jiggle test.” He flipped through several screens on the terminal, then pressed an onscreen button that caused the brace to jolt slightly horizontally and then stop. The result was magnificent-a hypnotic display of breast acrobatics that went on so long it seemed to defy the laws of motion. Each time her breasts settled, Peter pressed the button again, with each subsequent jolt causing a seismic gyration of flesh that continued in one direction well past any movement of the brace, then rebounded again and again. Her nipples traced delicate, independent elongated spirals in space, each breast continually readjusting it’s trajectory as it bounded against it’s mate, or as another bump reenergized it’s movements. Her breasts were now so large and heavy that, as they moved, her entire torso was pulled along for the ride. It looked like someone was pulling her around by her breasts. He changed the angle of movement, jolting vertically, diagonally, and in an arc-each time, the movement of her breasts took on a new and interesting dynamic. Peter was captivated, and it wasn’t until David started making noises that he blinked and reluctantly pulled his hand away from the button, allowing the breasts to eventually come to rest. “Uh, okay, I guess that’s enough of that. Let’s see.”
Peter reviewed his notes to get his bearings, and then began again. “I’m going to shorten the calf muscles so that she’ll have to either wear high heels, or walk on her toes” as he turned a dial, the woman rose to tip-toes, which caused her to stick out her rear end and chest seductively. “Also, shorten the lower back muscles to make her ass stick out even more” With another twist of a dial, her body complied, causing the woman to look as though she were consciously pushing her already full posterior out even farther. “Shorten the rhomboids to pull her shoulders back and make it so she can’t help but stick out her chest,” As he did this, her shoulders pulled back and down, with the planned effect that she looked like she was proudly thrusting out her massive bosom. “And weaken the quadratus lumborum muscles so that her hips will swing nicely side to side-she’ll have no choice but to walk seductively. And I’m inserting a forced pattern-she won’t be able to bend her knees to bend over, she’ll automatically bend at the hips, which will be wonderfully revealing if she’s wearing a skirt. Oh, and I almost forgot the voice. A nice, cutesy, breathy little-girlish voice, exaggerate the musicality so she sounds really ditsy. I’m making it so that her syllables are all separated, with a little pause between each. And when she says the emphasized syllables of each sentence, her voice will go up a half octave, and at the same time she’ll pull her torso back a little to stick her breasts out. She’ll also pucker her mouth and tilt her head back a little when she says her O’s, like an exaggerated Marilyn Monroe.” Peter laughed at the thought of this woman trying desperately to be taken seriously with a voice that made her sound like she should be sucking on a big lollipop.
“Okay, one more structural change and then we’re on to the neuro mapping. Let’s make her clitoris a little bigger, and the labia around it very swollen so they press on it. And I’m forming a small bump on each of them just to the side of the clitoris. Every time she walks or stands up, or even bends her legs up or down, her clitoris will snap across the bumps and get stimulated. And, for the first part of the neuro mapping, I’m going to raise the sensitivity of the clitoris to the ceiling. She’ll be able to take maybe two or three steps before the twanging of her clitoris has her next to an orgasm.” He glanced toward David briefly to see how his decisions were being greeted-David smiled and nodded back at him reassuringly.
“I’m increasing the breast, vagina, and lips sensory areas of her brain so that their sensations will dominate her awareness. Next, make the labia extremely sensitive so that she’ll be able to feel them rubbing against each other and her clitoris when she moves her legs-make sure her attention stays “down there” even when she’s doing something else. And, just for fun, I’m mapping her lips to the sexual response zone of her brain so that kissing or even just touching her lips will arouse her. Even eating will get her off.
“Now, let’s make her breasts more sensitive-I’m going to map them directly to the pleasure and sexual stimulant portions of her brain. And make the nipples especially sensitive-I’m partially mapping them to the clitoral area and raising their sensitivity to the top. The inside of her blouse brushing across her nipples will be almost overwhelming. Hell, sending her outside naked on a breezy day will get her off!” Peter was getting terribly excited, panting now with the thought of how helpless this woman would be, how even the smallest movement would cause her breasts to jiggle and cavort uncontrollably, sending bolts of orgasmic pleasure with each bounce, and each step mercilessly flicking her swollen, hypersensitive clitoris over and over, stimulating her unrelentingly.
“Now I’m adjusting the orgasm curve so that the closer she gets to orgasm, the harder it will be to actually reach it. She’ll have to be completely out of her gourd before she gets release.
“And now, the neural patterning. First, I’ve got a full set of word and phrase cross-maps, along with a ruleset. When she tries to say anything, it’ll come out a little…differently than she expects! After all, we must keep her in character. Can’t have her cursing or insulting anyone!” Peter’s eyes gleamed. “And, of course, I’m lowering her suggestibility to the point that she will obey any command-she won’t be able to say no, or to resist following directions, as much as I’m sure she’d like to.”
“Now for some stimulation mapping. Let’s see…let’s put a nipple ring on the left nipple and another ring in her navel.” As he said this, he entered some commands on the keyboard and they appeared. “A single pull of the navel ring and everything she tries to say will come out slutty-of course, in a very cutesy way; two pulls and she’ll be unable to speak at all, just moan and grunt and stuff when she’s stimulated; and a third pull returns her to her normal phrase maps. And a pull of her nipple ring followed by a twist left, then right will bring her right to the brink of orgasm-of course, with the steep orgasm curve I’ve programmed, she’s still going to have to work awfully hard to get there.” Peter began to laugh almost hysterically, a wild look in his eyes.
“And we can’t forget clothes. A nice, sexy bra with holes for her nipples to stick out of so they can brush against whatever she’s wearing, or just to make them available for playing with if she doesn’t have a top on. Make the straps really elastic to enhance the bounce factor. And a tight silk crop top for her nipples to brush against.” A brassiere formed, cradling the enormous breasts but with openings for her distended nipples, and then pink silk stretched over her upper chest and halfway down her wasp-like waist. Her nipples poked out severely through the silk top, causing little fabric stretches to form, each stretching inward toward the other nipple across the long gulf between her two breasts.
“Some thong panties, specially designed to squeeze her labia together to increase the pressure on her clitoris. A micro-miniskirt that rides high enough to reveal just the tiniest flash of panties when she’s standing. Some ultra-high spike heels-try walking in those!” As he named each article of clothing, it appeared on her body, accenting her already phenomenal proportions. The stilletto heels appeared last, pushing her heels up even farther as they formed. The result was breathtaking, as the heels forced her pelvis to tilt, causing her ass to swell out and her chest to thrust forward. The half-asleep woman began to pant and moan as the slight movement of her breathing caused her breasts to slide up and down within the crop top. David watched, fascinated, as she began to writhe slowly, trying in vain to squeeze her legs together but the brace held them fast. Peter spun a dial and the woman returned to consciousness, panting and looking desperate. Peter couldn’t figure out whether this was because she was afraid or because she awoke to find herself desperately horny. Perhaps both, he chuckled to himself. She began looking at her new body, wide-eyed and obviously shocked-even though she couldn’t even see most of it, due to the obstruction of her now huge breasts.
“Ah, okay Peter. That’s good.” David stepped in and moved Peter away from the console. He was smiling conspiratorally.
“You don’t think I’ve gone too far, do you?” Peter questioned.
“Well, she’ll be pretty useless as anything but a sex toy or a room ornament, but I’m sure we’ll have a customer that will find that appealing He can entertain himself by putting her food across the room so she has to go get it. It’ll probably take her a couple of hours, and multiple orgasms, to get anywhere. Certainly no risk that she’ll try to escape!”
Peter smiled back at David despite himself. “Heh heh, thanks. Okay, let’s give her a test drive.” He walked over to the girl. “I’ve decided that your new name will be Bunny, sweetie. So, how does the new you feel in there?”
“What the hell have you done to me, you bastard?” she tried to scream at him, and was surely shocked to hear her new ultra-bimbo voice instead say sweetly and squeakily, “What did you dooo to Bun-ny? You’re sooo sweet!” Peter smirked, watching the emotions flash across her face. The phrase mapping he had worked so long on was working perfectly-she could only call herself “Bun-ny,” and she could only speak of herself in the third person. In addition, her speech was simplified to a six year old level, and any phrases which were intended to be angry, mean, insulting, etc. were converted into a simplified version of the opposite-praise and appreciation. As well, all profanity was converted to hopelessly innocent phrases. He had also included some surprises that wouldn’t become apparent until she was in the throes of orgasm.
In addition, he had thoroughly mapped her facial expressions. He knew she must be shocked and furious, but to all outward appearances all her cutesy face displayed was ditsy, wide-eyed confusion. Her resting expression would be a wide-eyed pout. She was effectively trapped within her own, highly “optimized” body-no one would ever be able to guess what was really going on in her “pretty little head,” and she was completely incapable of expressing anything other than simple pleasure, joy, appreciation, bewilderment, etc.—Helplessly acting the part of the ultimate bimbo.
Her slight movement set her huge breasts bouncing gently and she gasped and half closed her eyes as her nipples brushed back and forth and around inside her crop top. She began panting and straining, which only increased the movement dramatically. “Oh my God!” she tried to say and, again, the mapping took over and what emerged was a breathy “ooh my goood-ness!” Peter released the straps and stepped back. As her breasts wobbled relentlessly inside the crop top, the new weight was so great and her perch so precarious in the spike heels that she started to fall forward and automatically caught herself by stepping forward twice, clutching for the frame of the brace to keep from falling. That was a mistake. “Uhhh…(gasp)…Ooooh” with each step, her clitoris was pulled and stretched and finally snapped free from between the twin bumps of her labia, only to be pulled back again the other way as she stepped again. At the same time, her hips swung lusciously from one side to the other uncontrollably. Meanwhile, between the jolting movement and her gasping for breath, her breasts took on a life of their own, appearing to be trying to free themselves from the constraining crop top, which did it’s best to follow their motion but, unfortunately, wasn’t keeping up. Peter’s calculations for the bra straps were perfect-the elasticity enhanced the bounce when they reached the bottom of their trajectory and catapulted them upward. Their mass pulled her torso up and down and side to side with them as they bounded. Her nipples traced wildly around the inside of the silk top. Peter knew that the effect was to shoot pure stimulation directly into the pleasure center of her brain.
With an obviously supreme act of will, the woman stilled herself and strained to keep her breathing under control so that her breasts would still. She clutched the brace and, with eyes closed and moaning and panting uncontrollably, waited until her breasts slowed and the sensations abated. Finally, she half-opened her eyes and looked toward Peter. “Gosh darn you!” Even though he smiled in response to her sweet little voice, Peter knew what she had meant to say, and was somewhat taken aback by the self-control that she was able to muster, even as his passion was driven to new heights as he watched her, breasts heaving, unconsciously squeezing her legs together, obviously on the edge of losing control. She was an exaggerated version of a thousand wet dreams, sufficient to incite irrepressible lust in the heart and groin of any man.
“Time to test the self-control. Bunny, sweetie, grab your twat with both hands for me and rub it.” The woman immediately let go of her grip on the brace, reached under her tiny skirt, grabbed her groin with both hands and began rubbing, bending slightly forward. In the process, in order to reach her vagina, her upper arms had to squeeze her breasts together, creating a delicious sight. Her breasts reacted with movement, constrained at their base but the vast majority spilling out from between her arms, wobbling and jiggling up and down with her frantic rubbing of her nether regions. Between the stimulation of her breasts from the movement and her rubbing, “Bunny” quickly escalated out of control to near-orgasm, gasping and moaning. Even so, she looked on in obvious wide-eyed, open-mouthed astonishment, probably both that she was following his command without being able to resist, and at the incredible sight before her eyes-she was completely unable to see her lower arms, or much else other than the tips of her toes and the two massive undulating breasts that dominated her field of vision. As her arousal grew, however, she soon closed her eyes and became lost in it.
“Okay, honey, that’s enough. Stop and stand up straight.” Bunny immediately let go with her hands and complied, but she cried out in obvious frustration and it took a full thirty seconds for her to stop panting hard and desperately moaning while squeezing her legs together. It was obvious that, had he not ordered her to stand at attention, her arousal was so great that she would have gone right back to doing whatever she could do to reach orgasm.
As soon as she could speak again, she began hurling epithets at Peter that, of course, the mapping converted before they reached her mouth. “I love you, Mas-ter! Please kiss and hold me! Please rub my breasts! It feels soooo good! You are so won-der-ful!” Peter began laughing hysterically as her anger and outrage were converted into helpless adoration and pleadings. She began to shake with rage and frustration, but looking for all the world as though she were instead bouncing with excitement, barely able to contain her joy. And, of course, all of the commotion just set her breasts bounding again. Her exclamations quickly transitioned into the desperate cries of extreme sexual arousal. Unable to contain herself, she grabbed two armfuls of bouncing breasts and began kneading as much as she could grab around each nipple area with a milking motion, pinching her nipples while moaning and gasping frantically. Her hands looked tiny against the vast expanse of her chest, and were just too small for the task of keeping her breasts in one place. Instead, she looked as though she were desperately chasing her nipples around her chest. At the same time, she was squeezing and rubbing her legs together as much as she could while still remaining upright in her spiked heels, as though she desperately had to pee. The entire spectacle was dizzying.
“I think I’ll keep this one,” Peter thought. “This is just too much fun. God, she is so damn sexy, I could just throw her down right here and…”
“Are you ready for the moonwalk?”
Peter was jolted out of his reverie by David’s question. In the excitement of playing with his new toy, he’d forgotten that he was going to have to spend some time inside this ultra-bimbo-ized creation of his. “Uhh, maybe we should turn down some of those parameters before I go inside. I don’t want to blow a fuse…”
“Oh, she’s inside specs, don’t worry. You’re in for quite a ride, though.” David grinned with just a touch of a can-you-handle-it sort of challenge in his expression. Peter, sensing the challenge, responded appropriately.
“Okay, no problem. I can handle it. Should be, er, exciting.”
“To say the least,” responded David dryly. “Bunny, stop now and be quiet.” Bunny, well on her way to orgasm at this point, suddenly stopped rubbing and ceased the majority of her cries, but she could not stop herself from panting and occasionally moaning, mouth open wide, her lips still pouting as though she were sucking on a cock, and her half-closed eyes wild with desire. After a good minute or so, she had calmed sufficiently and David ordered her again. “Okay, Bunny, now go over to that chair and sit down. Do your best to keep from stimulating yourself.”
Bunny slowly and gingerly moved from the brace to a nearby chair—“oooh…uuuh!,” little perky exclamations escaped from her pouty lips as her clitoris snapped back and forth and her breasts jiggled with each step. Her weakened quadratus muscles were unable to keep her hips from swaying back and forth-she looked exactly as though she were putting on a show, seeming to stick out her ass and breasts with her hips swaying, moving slowly, eyes half closed and with a look of pure arousal on her face. No stripper or porn queen could have held a candle to her. She was obviously working very hard to keep silent, but it was impossible. As she sat down, one final snap of her clitoris as she bent her legs was finally enough that she moaned and writhed and panted for some time, sending her breasts bouncing up and down and around, pulling her torso with them. David had to tell her once more to be quiet and hold still, or she would have surely started grabbing at herself again.
Peter took a seat beside her apprehensively and David strapped him in. He had to be strapped securely, because while he was in the woman’s body, she would be inside his, fully conscious and in control, and must be restrained. He turned to look at the woman, who had finally recovered somewhat and, eyes half-closed still with the remnants of desire, she was looking at him with…a slight smile? Just then he felt a brief tingling and heard David say, “here we go…” and suddenly the room shifted. He was looking out of her eyes now, and one of the first things he noticed was how “his” breasts obstructed any view of “his” lower body-they dominated the lower portion of his field of vision, blocking out a good portion of the floor and flaring out to the sides, significantly wider than “his” chest. He could feel their weight pulling forward, and the corresponding pull of the rhomboid muscles keeping “his” shoulders pulled back. Sure enough, try as he might he could not bring his shoulders forward-he was forced to stick out his twin orbs dramatically. Even the slightest movement of his torso caused them to move and sway because of the distance they jutted out from the center of rotation, calling even more attention to themselves. As if that were necessary-they were, after all, her most significant features. The nipples were clearly visible from his vantage point, practically erupting through the sheer silk fabric.
He took a breath and watched as the massive breasts rose and fell. The movement caused “his” nipples to slide slowly against the silk crop top, and he felt a shiver of pure sexual pleasure. The nipples immediately became erect, causing little sparks of pleasure to shoot through “his” breasts and accentuating the sensation against the silk. He felt “his” vagina respond with a gentle rush of heat and moisture, causing him to unconsciously squeeze “his” legs together, eliciting a further warm rush of arousal. His awareness of “his” breasts, genitals and lips was so dominant, it overshadowed any other bodily awareness. “Well, the brain mapping works I feel like I’m mostly two boobs, a twat, and two pairs of lips,” thought Peter. It was an erotic thought, which caused an even stronger rush of heat to his vagina. He squeezed “his” legs together automatically, causing a rush of sensation and sexual desire to fan upward from between his legs like a fire.
“Jeepers, Bun-ny thinks this is real-ly neat!” He heard his cutesy voice exclaim perkily. He had meant to say, “God, this is fucking outrageous,” but the mapping had taken over. He laughed self-consciously, a laugh that would have normally sounded like an embarrased chuckle but, coming from inside of this ultra-bimbo body, emerged as a vapor-headed giggle. As vacuous as it was, the laugh was enough to set “his” breasts jiggling, and he gasped as a sensation so graphic and powerful that it was hard to tell if it was feeling or seeing washed over him. The gasp had an even more powerful effect on the movement of his breasts, and for a moment it looked like he would be trapped in a cycle of increasingly strong reactions to increasingly strong surges of sexual pleasure, until Peter forced himself to breathe slowly and with as little movement as possible. Even so, he couldn’t keep from panting, which caused his nipples to slide relentlessly up and down the inside of the crop top, sending a constant barrage of stimulation to his brain.
“Gosh, that feels sooo good, please” he gasped in his cute little sexy voice. He had tried to say, “Jesus, I think this is too intense.” The “please” part was inserted by the programming, of course. David moved over from the console to help him up. In the process, he brushed up against one of Peter’s enormous breasts, dragging across it and pulling it sideways. Peter groaned in his silly little voice, then gasped as it released, swinging back and crashing into the other breast, causing them both to oscillate back and forth wildly and tugging ‘his” torso left and right. Peter’s consciousness became momentarily overwhelmed with the sensation-he was two massive breasts careening around inside a giant crop top, two nipples dragging back and forth relentlessly across ecstatically rough silk. He could practically feel every fiber as it slid across them, across him, contributing it’s own particular electrical current to the tidal wave of nerve stimulation. The powerful sensation was exquisite, yet terrifying in its power.
As his breasts finally settled into the slow, rhythmic surging of his breathing, Peter became aware of the room again, of David at his left side, helping him to stand. As he stood, Peter had to grab for him to keep from being pulled forward by the unfamiliar weight of his breasts and the precariousness of his perch on the ultra-high heels. In the process, he leaned to the left into David and his breasts shifted, the left one bonking into David’s chest and bouncing off and into the right breast, which had been following it but now was propelled to the right, swung back and again met the left breast as it returned from again bouncing off of David’s chest. Again, all Peter was aware of was his breasts, his ever-harder nipples and the silk fabric, and of lightning bolts of sensation erupting in his groin. Distantly, he could hear “his” voice making ridiculous whimpers and grunts, all the while saying, “yes, oh my gosh,” “please rub me down there,” and “that feels sooo nice!” If he weren’t still clutching to David to keep from falling, he knew that he would be grabbing at his groin, at his breasts, helpless in the face of the passion burning through him. David waited until he was able to stand somewhat on his own. Peter again made his way back to the rest of the world. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see himself, his body, staring back at him, still strapped in the chair, with an evil smile and a gleam in “his” eyes. He was shocked, given that she must know she was about to spend the equivalent of an eternity trapped in this sex machine. “You’ll get yours, bitch!” he thought to himself.
“Okay, all set now. Why don’t we try walking a few steps?” David seemed completely oblivious to the maelstrom he had unleashed in Peter’s brain, and to the desperation Peter was feeling as he strained to keep himself from breathing or moving more than was absolutely necessary. He tried to speak, to say, “Hold on a second. This is too much.” Instead, he heard himself breathe in the sexiest voice he could imagine, “I’ll do anything you want. This is so great!” Had he programmed that? He didn’t remember it. But before he could think of some way to let David know he was in trouble, David was “helping” him to step forward. He could feel how, as he lifted his right leg to catch himself, his highly mobile hips swayed to the left and…
Pop! Peter’s clitoris twisted free from between the two bumps in his swollen labia. He felt a bolt blast from his groin up to his nipples and into his brain. This was a different sensation. While the sensations from his breasts had radiated overpowering sexual pleasure, his clitoris was pumping out a rush of pure orgasmic sex. It was as powerful as any orgasm he had ever felt, and yet he knew that it was just the first stop on the way to orgasm The effect on his nipples was immediate-David had thought that they were fully erect before, but now they truly popped to attention, tightening with a sensation that was incredibly painfully pleasurable. Through half-open eyes, Peter could see them straining to push through the clingy fabric of the crop top as they were dragged to and fro by the relentless mass of his breasts. He felt his clitoris respond also, swelling, pressing against the constraints of his now even more swollen labia and the pressure of the encircling fabric of the thong panties which made him desperately want to squeeze his legs together, and he felt a rush of heat and wetness in his vagina like a torrent. At the same time, his breasts responded to the double jolt of his stepping forward and of his contorted gasps by bounding off in different directions, then seeming to change their minds and come crashing back together only to bounce off in a different direction altogether. Peter could hear his tiny, cute, girlish voice off in the distance, groaning and gasping and saying, “Yes, yes! More! Please more! Bun-ny wants more!” Somewhere deep inside of him, Peter could hear a voice say, “I didn’t program that!”
All of this happened in the moment of stepping forward. To Peter, time had slowed to a crawl, allowing each sensation to take center stage as it crescendoed. As he brought his weight to bear on his forward right leg, his hips swung uncontrollably to the right, a wonderfully sexy sashay that swung his tiny skirt with it like a bell being rung, as the movement caused his labia to slide and pull deliciously, ominously on his clitoris. Trying desperately to catch himself as David continued to pull him forward, he brought his left leg forward and…
POP! This time, as his swollen, sensitized clitoris snapped across the bumps in his equally swollen and incredibly slippery labia, the sensation was like a freight train hitting him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice began to relentlessly comment. “Probably only a third of the way up the orgasm curve now. Still have a ways to go.”
Summoning all of his will, Peter lifted his head to try to speak to David, to tell him to stop it, to try to get him to understand that he was almost completely lost in the massive waves of sensation bombarding his brain, that he feared for his sanity. To his astonishment, David was looking at him with an expression of smug satisfaction. The thought flashed across Peter’s mind, “He knows! He changed the programming! But why?” As he tried to speak, to say anything, he saw David as though in slow motion reach his fingers toward Peter’s left nipple, to grasp the nipple ring through the fabric, seeing the effect as the nipple stretched inexorably, watched the rippling of the movement through the breast as he twisted the ring to the left, and then right…and then he was gone, lost in the rush of a thousand orgasms merged into one not-quite-orgasm.
David let the writhing, moaning form slide to the floor and stood back to watch. What he saw was a drop-dead gorgeous bimbo with giant breasts and an insane hourglass figure apparently trying everything in her power to stimulate herself to a still elusive orgasm. The fingers of one hand were thrust deep into her soaking vagina, grabbing and pushing, while the other hand attempted to rub both of her nipples at the same time, which was physically impossible because her breasts were far too big, so she could only go from one nipple to the other. At the same time, she was squeezing her legs together while thrusting and wiggling her full, perfect ass relentlessly, all the while making a constant stream of squeaks and moans—“(Oooh)…Yes…yes…(gasp)…Bun-ny…(uh oh uh)…likes that!…(ooooh)…yessss…(mmmm-ohhh)…more…(gasp)…please…more!” She rolled onto her front, her stomach a full six inches above the floor, mashing and twisting her massive breasts into the floor and bringing her other hand to her vagina as well, while pushing her ass up as far as she could into the air as if this would give her the stimulation she needed to be released.
David turned and began unstrapping Peter from the chair.
“So., how did I do for my first time?” asked “Peter.” He smiled as he watched the writhing, moaning figure on the floor in front of him.
“Well, you may have overdone it a tad,” smiled David, “but I’m sure we’ll find a customer for her.” “I’m sure you will,” Peter smiled. “And I’ll just go back to work as the rich heir of the owner of a large, very profitable corporation.” He started to walk away, then turned back to the exaggerated parody of an air-headed bimbo whose orgasm appeared to at last be peaking. With a sinister smile, he spoke to the man trapped in “his” former body, who would spend the next five to ten years marking time recovering from one massive orgasm just in time to feel the next one beginning, trying desperately to tell anyone around her that she was really Peter Marks, and succeeding only in living up to her newly acquired title of Bunny the superbimbo.
“Oh, you’re just gonna love the new you!”