Note to readers: I’ve tried to give the characters a little dimension, and the plot a little bit of meaning (more to follow)—but, this is basically a straight-ahead stroke story. I’d hoped my first mc submission would have more artistic merit but, hey. As Bullwinkle used to say, “Next time, for SURE!”
As always, comments, feedback, death threats and—especially—any women interested in doing alternate-part mc stories are welcome and can contact me at:
DISCLAIMER: This story contains explicit sexual content and is NOT to be read by those of non-consensual age, or the easily offended. It involves non-consensual sex and non-existent science. If you’re counting on the latter for sex—good luck. If you’re utilize the former for sex—do us all a favor? Kill yourself.
This story may NOT be posted in sites CHARGING ANY FEE OR MAKING USE OF SO-CALLED “ADULT VERIFICATION SERVICES.” Author retains ownership of this material; story may be reposted, but author must be notified and his e-mail address posted with the story.
Spuds says: Party responsibly.
THE RISE AND RISE OF ALLISON GOLDEN
by Hypnopapa
1. ALLISON’S BARGAIN
The items were scattered on a stainless steel cart in the examining room: a dozen small syringes (i.m.—the type used by diabetics) in paper sleeves, a box of Players cigarettes, an eyedropper, red hair ribbons, one nasty, double-O syringe with an s-shaped grip at the top of the plunger, rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs. Several tiny bottles of some injectible drugs. Two large yellow packs of Bublurpleasure Bubblegum.
“So, what’s it look like to you?” I asked.
“Breakfast at Pam Anderson Lee’s house?”
I held up two plastic bottles the size and shape of restaurant sugar holders. Inside the bottles was something that looked like hair conditioner.
“How do you think you’d look with this stuff in your breasts?”
“Lemme think...I know! Tittachu, the new cartoon character they came up with to boost sagging tits—and ratings,” she said. “On second thought—it kinda looks like sperm, Doc. Have you been busy—and lonely?”
“Actually, I’ve been networking. And, I think I can give you the bargain you wanted. You’ve been sniffling—mold allergies?”
“How did you know?” Allison smiled.
I reached into my lab coat, removing a nasal pumpspray that did not have a label on it.
“Everything is scrubbed and dusted at least once a day,” I said, “but—forced air oil heating... Try two sprays of this in each nostril.”
She began squinting, shifting her weight from one let to the other, trying in vain to concentrate. She smiled again, then chuckled, blushed.
“There’s something IN here, issn-air?” she slurred, waving the nasal spray bottle.
“You bet. FREEZE.”
She froze, ramrod-stiff, in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. One hand on her hip, knee bent, the other arm holding the bottle up. Her full mouth was open, as though she were just about to pop out one more bon mot before I froze her.
Perfect. Perfect subject. The date of birth she’d given my receptionist set her age at 22—but she was probably about five years older. Wonderful face—perfectly imperfect; full, slightly asymmetrical, Western European features.
Stuck in that slightly comic, somehow erotic position, she was irresistible.
“Blink once, hard, if you can hear me, Allison.”
BLINK
“You have a lovely body,” I said to my mannequin woman. “I have patients who spend four times what you make in a year, and when I’m done, what are they? Their bodies are ten per cent as pretty as yours—sculpted, chunks of plastic stuck in their cheeks and bust and asses...
“You asked me for a bargain—maybe a thousand to begin with, a couple hundred a month for a few years. That’s the terms I usually offer—not many women can afford my fees, there are only so many times I can spin the insurance companies. So, we come to terms. Here’s what your new tits will cost:
“Nothing.”
The sight of this cute, sexy, chubby woman-child was more than I could resist. I kissed her, sealing our deal. Her mouth was dry, but I ran my tongue around her lips, then plunged it into her mouth. I fucked her mouth with my tongue and—still rigid—her own tongue moved involuntarily into my mouth. I tasted her.
I unbuttoned her silk blouse and reached behind her. Her bra slid away, and I ran my fingers playfully around her perfect little breasts. Her nipples grew stiffer as I dragged my fingertips so-o slowly around them.
“You want me to ruin these. Awful. Dreadful. This is my offer: You can have the breasts that you want—in fact, I’ll give you a whole new body. YOU CAN HAVE ANY BODY YOU WANT. Free of charge. But, not free of cost. Here is the cost: You can HAVE any body you want, but you can’t be anybody you want to.
“When you give your consent, you surrender all free will to me. You will think what I tell you to, act according to my orders. “One of the plethora of drugs I’m about to give you—IF YOU CONSENT—is Ashethane. Whatever your greatest weaknesses are, they will become known to me. And, I will use those weaknesses to make you my slave for the rest of your life. You look funny, but you look fairly comfortable standing there...”
I undid the button at her waist, and slid my hand inside, fingers moving past wet, thick pubic hair, tasting with my fingertips the lush, soft slickness of her sex.
“A woman in distress,” I said, “and you’re soaking wet! What a GOOD bad girl you’re going to make!”
Her face remained in that poised, odd, “one-more-thing” expression. But, her eyes betrayed her best self. The hot teen slut that I would make her.
If she agreed.
“Blink twice, hard, if you accept my terms. Blink once if you don’t agree to my terms. You’ll be on your way—that drug will wear off in a few minutes, and you won’t remember a thing that’s happened.”
NEXT: A BARGAIN STRUCK
RISE AND RISE OF ALLISON GOLDEN
II. A BARGAIN STRUCK
—BLINK BLINK—
“The tubes going into your arms are—left to right—glucose and saline. Please don’t try to spit out the tube going down your throat. You’ll like what goes into it, I promise. I’ve given you something to relax you—if you struggle, I might make a mistake...”
Allison tried to move her hands. They were strapped to the countoured surgical chair. Her legs were strapped to v-shaped, leather-padded modular straps. The thing in her throat itched, tickled a little. Thick leather straps dug heavily into her wrists and ankles...she was secured into a heavy chrome and leather chair that was bolted into the floor.
Why did she feel the sensation of being on a big, safe child’s swing—back...forwards ...mmmm....That man with the doctor clothes and the white mask over his mouth and nose—he MUST be dangerous. Why was her vagina so moist?
Although the drugs had a warming and calming effect, Allison Golden was flushed, trying to breathe evenly and not panic. Dr. Jonah was clearly dangerous—but there was something strangely assured, and assuring, about him.
Jonah could feel his erection pushing against his green scrub pants. Even though this was not an invasive procedure, and a completely sterile environment was not crucial—he liked the feel, the look. The surgical mask somehow put patients on edge, and at ease: This might hurt, but Doctor always knows best.
She was still wearing the silk blouse and plain, knee-length skirt. Her eyes widened as he held up a huge syringe with a pistol-like grip.
“Why don’t we make this interesting for both of us, Miss Golden? Why don’t you play with yourself?”
“Hunh? Whah you tahking abow?”
“You know what I’m talking about—and, it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.”
“You wangh to p-glay wff my, mmmy—” she choked.
“NO! I’m not going to play with your cunt. You’re going to, while I inject this into your breasts.”
“P-ease...no...ah can’t. Scay-ud.”
“I know you’re frightened, Miss Golden. Or is it ‘Ms’? Let the drugs work—give your mind to me. The shackles on your wrists have enough slack in them now—open up your skirt and jerk off.”
His eyes were brightened, and she wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be smiling under his mask.
“gggnnnnnNOOOOO! Can’t. Can’t.”
Her eyes were pleading with him to just get on with it—stick those needles in her tits, fill them with whatever was in there and let her go. Sex? Here? He WAS crazy.
“Okay...”
He reached over her head, tapping a button or release that she couldn’t see. There was a tingling at the back of her neck.
A surge of warmth and horniness seeped into her beginning at her toes, flowing upwards in a slow, sleepy wave.
“MMMmmmmm.” She was overcome with the need to make herself come—even in front of this guy.
ESPECIALLY in front of this guy.
Her hands wouldn’t move. Her face once again flushed in terror.
“Well, make up your fucking mind, Miss Golden. Do you want to jerk off for the doctor or not?”
He popped the tube out of her mouth.
“PLEEEEASE! Oh, fuck—plee-yuzzzz, doctor, let me show me my gratitude—I want to come for you while you shoot that stuff in my tits.”
“Do you want the needles to hurt?”
Another flash of terror—then a stronger jolt at the back of her neck, and she felt the juice from her cunt soaking her skirt, dripping onto the chair cushions...
“GODD, yes. Hurt me—pump up my tits and I’ll come for you, I promise...”
He re-inserted the tube into her mouth. It tingled in her throat and excited her.
He slowly opened her blouse, undid her bra and inserted the long needle into her left breast. She was poised for a horrible jolt of pain, excruciating, burning and horrible...
It tickled. She giggled a little, smiling at him. The bonds on her wrists slackened, and she reached into her sopping pussy.
GOD! She had to pee. Oh, she had to pee so bad, oh, why now—shit. Oh, no.
“Go ahead, Miss Golden...”
She felt the urine rush past her fingers, soaking her panties and skirt. It wouldn’t stop...oh, it felt so good (and so bad), she’d needed relief so bad...she heard her piss trickling onto the tiled floor—the only sound in this silent room.
She looked down, saw the embarrassing mess she was sitting in, then saw the needle sticking into her left nipple, tingling... It was getting bigger. Much bigger. She looked at her right breast, tiny and pathetic, the nipple rock-hard. Sooonn...
She could hear (hallucination?) a sloshing sound as left breast swelled, each slosh a wave, a push outward barely perciptiple—a half-inch at a time, maybe less. But, with each wave, she felt and saw it growing bigger, and her pussy got wetter even though she’d stopped peeing—
—playing with herself harder, the doctor’s eyes seizing her with lust and a demand for absolute obedience.
She felt a warm, sticky substance being pumped down her throat as she began to come. The doctor’s hand covered her own, digging hard into her moist sex, he forced her hand inside herself as her orgasm pushed her mind and cunt into one hot mass—she was outside her body, HE was inside her mind and she—gawwwwdddd—felt his tongue in her mouth, pushing the tube further—she kept coming...
RISE AND RISE OF ALLISON GOLDEN
by Hypnopapa
III: Sounds Like A Plan
Zombielike, Allison Golden watched a six-inch needle fill her other breast with what she’d thought looked like hair conditioner.
She might has well have been watching a rerun of a soap opera she didn’t want to see the first time. She might has well have been staring at another woman’s newly enhanced breasts.
There was another jolt at the base of her neck—her legs relaxed, her breathing slowed as the nice doctor came and injected some kind of new chemicals into her feeding tubes. Allison trusted the doctor.
The lights were turned down; there was only on 60-watt bulb behind them lighting the treatment and examining room.
“Lean forward, just your head,” the doctor said.
A blindfold was being wrapped around her head. She was at peace.
At the base of her neck, another tingle—pleasant this time.
“Before I take your mind and body, you have to tell me what brought you here, Allison.”
“Bus to 53d Street—I was running late so I had to take a taxi the rest of the way.”
She realized that she’d been cleaned up. There was no more wet puddle around her butt. Jonah had redressed her in a hospital gown.
“Who are you, Allison?” The Doctor sat on a stool, wheeled next to his patient’s treatment chair. He had her file in one hand.
“Do you trust me, Allison?”
She said, “Yes,” without hesitation. It should’ve surprised her.
“Do you know who you are?”
“......no...”
He picked up a syringe, and injected it into her saline i.v. He leaned her head forward, brushed her hair aside. The quarter-sized black chip embedded in the skin under her hairline was in place, the tiny amber light glowing.
He pushed a button on the console over her head. Allison sat up straight.
“Why is it dark? Am I blind?” Allison was trembling.
“No, you’re fine. Touch your breasts, Allison.”
She wished she could see them again. She cupped them, running her thumbs around them, testing their firmness with her fingertips. Great. Kewl. They weren’t hard, like the implants her friends got. But they weren’t implants, they—
The drugs he’d put into her i.v.’s reached her heart and mind. She was barely conscious, sinking deliriously into this very comfortable, very strange chair.
“I’m Allison Golden. Occupation: Nobody. I have a dead-end data processing job at a huge company where nobody ever notices me.”
Her voice was soft and a little bit sad. Freed and encouraged by the drugs to let go of her self, she spoke in a monotone—sleeptalking, Jonah knew. The blindfold, her physical helplessness, the gift of self she was giving him, her new breasts. These things—and her heartbreakingly innocent face—made him very excited.
“I came here to change my life. My boyfriend doesn’t seem that interested in me—or, maybe I was just never that interested myself and I just figured it out. I don’t know. I’m 26, my friends all have interesting lives. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t party, I pay my taxes. I’m not just bored, I feel like it’s over. If I was going to have fun, wild times, be really outrageous—I would’ve done it by now.”
He stood up and kissed her, softly. She accepted his tongue, push-pulling her head and sucking his tongue like a cock.
“If you could be anything you could be—ANYTHING, just let your mind run free. What would you like to be?”
“MORE!” she said.
Jonah knew: First major side-effect.
“I want bigger tits. Much bigger tits. Can you make my boobs really huge?”
“Of course,” he said, fingering her pussy lips under the hospital gown. “I’m going to make your life FASCINATING.” He emptied a syringe into her neck. She didn’t flinch.
“What was you name, again?”
“I don’t know...”
“What would you like from me?”
“MORE. I want bigger tits. I want long, blonde hair, I want my ass to be rounder and bigger and tighter. I want a tattoo on my cunt lips. Higher cheekbones...
“...and I wanna be really, really stupid so I can ENJOY these things. So I can fuck with people, and not care. So I can fuck lots of cute guys and pretty girls, and be really dirty and LOVE IT. I WANT MORE.”
“As long as I’m up,” the Doctor said, unzipping his pants, “what else can I get you?”
She heard his belt buckle and zipper being undone. She knew his cock was out—she could SMELL his sex.
“You can fuck me like a crack whore. Fuck me until I scream fuck me til you rip me open and I bleed and beg you to stop and then fuck me HARDER...”
The scent of him got closer, and she felt flesh against her lips. Reflexively, her mouth opened, and she wet his prick with her full, moist mouth. It was late in the day, and he smelled and tasted of sweat and piss and she sucked him harder, wishing her hands were free so she could caress his balls, slutch his butt cheeks, stroke the crack in his ass and plunge a finger into his anus when he was ready to come.
She’d always wanted to please a man that way—knowing just what to do and when to do it. Knowing what the guy wanted a few seconds before HE did—and waiting a couple agonizing moments before she did it.
Completely relaxed, knowing for the last time she’d have any free will at all, she savored the moment as she felt his body spasm, heard the low, lashing sounds of release, felt the sexual charge from her throat to her cunt as his semen oozed, then shot into her mouth. She sucked faster, swallowing; harder, she wanted him in her belly.
Jonah stood over her, stroking her dark, think hair. Her face was covered with perspiration.
He lifted the blindfold. Blinking at the bright medial room light, she looked straight into his eyes again. His voice was commanding—assured. Calm.
And fucking terrifying.
“I promise you more,” Jonah said, caressing her cheek. “More than you can imagagine. Here’s what just happened:
“You just swallowed my seed, which will bond with the rest of the chemicals and controlled neuro-stimuli. Do you know how some animals whose young imprint upon the first creature the newborn sees? You just swallowed me, you’ve just seen me...
“The nanobots I’ve injected into your tits and brain will give me complete control over the shape and size of your body. That chemical cocktail I’ve been administering to you is about to meld with my sperm. I’m STILL open to suggestion, though. You would like more—how much?”
“More than you can handle. All of it, I want it all,” Allison gasped. “Then, I want MORRRREEE.”