Madeleine has been working late with her new boss
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Made To Order free porn video
AUTHOR'S SINCEREST NOTICE: Any likenesses to any real person, living or
dead, are entirely coincidental and unintentional...unless I really did
base a character on some asshole I met, in which case it was intentional.
This notice is to alert you, the reader, that contained within are ideas
and concepts some might find offensive. Let the world that I've tried to
flesh out here be the one that speaks, not me. At times, I think I was
trying to string together rational criticisms of our own world. So if
there is something that offends you, please don't take it personal. If
you're reading my stuff, I love you. Otherwise, if you can't handle it,
bugger off, it'll be for the best. Enjoy!
Made to Order
By Wolverine
Two reporters appeared on the television screen as they entered the
main lobby. The security guard on duty in the camera room regarded them
with a brief glance as he scanned the screens and then returned to his
magazine.
The feature story was close to home for the guard being that it was
about his employer, Youthful Technologies. YouthTech had taken the world
by storm 20 years after the lifting of many restrictions on genetic
research allowed science to grow by leaps and bounds. Morris Fueller, and
middle aged rebel at the time, had seized an economic opportunity during
many of his colleagues' conservative hesitation and grabbed the top
scientists in the now relatively unrestricted field. With cures for
nearly every genetic disorder as the main commodity, YouthTech became the
head of the the pharmaceutical boom. Soon, YouthTech's selection grew to
corrections of genetic disorders in newly conceived children, and
eventually genetic correction at any stage in life. An ugly person could
now be beautiful, a moron could have mental implants to increase
intelligence, and supermodels could be even more super. Perfection was
mass produced in pills and shots. The magazine applauded YouthTech's
equalizing of anyone and everyone in the eyes of society, and the general
good cheer the company had been the creators of. In recent years, despite
some controversy, YouthTech had been putting out made to order brides and
husbands. The critics called it a form of legalized, PC version of
prostitution. You can make a buck, but the government wants a piece. The
supporters promoted it as another social equalizer. Lonely people, no
matter how pretty and intelligent, still existed. This gave them an
opportunity to create their perfect partner, and be happy as any other
person.
The security guard yawned at the length of the piece that stretched
on for pages. He heard enough from the head of YouthTech on a weekly
basis, and didn't need the asshole's words ruining a normally good
magazine. He scanned the screens again (the reporters were now in the
waiting room) and then turned the page to a feature on the war on small
farming in Tunisia.
***
Vernon Reese and Wade Crass poured over the YouthTech catalog's
wide variety of offerings.
"I can have my ass corrected while we're here, you know," Vernon
said mockingly to his counterpart. Wade, still bearing the imperfect
genetics of his father in his wide gut and large nose, snorted a nasally
laugh, making the nearby secretary stare at him in disgust.
"Or you could have your palms altered to grow hair on them," Wade
replied. Vernon chuckled and pushed his glasses back up on his nose and
brushed his dirty blonde hair from his eyes. He too still bared his
family heritage of being tall and awkward as a giraffe and skinny as a
bedpost. Both men were adamant supporters of natural selection, hence the
Laurel and Hardy look. Vernon slapped his catalogue hard and gave an odd
snort. "What'd you find that was so good?"
"Nothing you haven't already seen. It's strange how anyone can find
anything about this "Made to Order Wives" line any less than
prostitution. 'Tammy Knockers' and 'China Doll'? Those are like bad porno
names. And these things don't even have to have a mind programmed in. You
can get them running on primitive instincts only. This is selling sex is
I've ever seen it," Vernon presented.
"Yes, but a legal form because it is marriage in all legal senses.
Those 'things' are people after all," Wade replied. Vernon gave him the
stare of death.
"Don't play Devil's advocate on me. You know I hate debating with
you."
"Oh, I know, and that's why I do it. You're cute when you're
angry." Wade planted a huge kiss on Vernon's cheek. Wade pushed Vernon
away with a groan.
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm not a homosexual and neither are you, so let's
not make fun of 'em."
"Whatever you say lover boy." Wade winked and then laughed again
with a snort. The genetically-perfect secretary scurried over to them and
nodded politely with a smile very much the opposite of the stare she'd
given the two earlier.
"Mr. Fueller will see you now," she said.
"Should we go to him or will he come to us or will we meet in the
middle?" Wade challenged. The secretary stared at him, confusion apparent
in her oh-so-perfectly blue eyes. Her smile had faltered to lip-biting,
and she scurried back behind the desk. Vernon grinned at Wade and shook
his head. Wade shrugged and placed his hands behind his head.
"Sir, they'd like to know if they should meet you here, there, or
somewhere called 'in the middle.'" the secretary asked. She listened
intently, and then smiled. She hung up and scurried back over to them,
smile back in full, perfect glow.
"He said in his office. And he said you should go fuck yourselves
for...picking on...someone...like his secretary," she said with some
trouble. Vernon looked at Wade with some concern, and then a wink.
"When were you born honey?" Vernon asked.
"Lemme think. I was born right in the very building in Lab H on..."
"I already know the rest," Vernon replied. The secretary once again
lost her smile.
"You do? How? Have I met you before? I hope I haven't had a memory
defect. That would be horrid," the secretary replied, now close to tears.
"Hey now, don't cry. You're absolutely perfect. I'm just a
psychic," Vernon told her. She smiled again.
"Oh. Silly me. Of course I am." With that, she hummed and scurried
back to the desk. Wade and Vernon climbed to their feet and went through
the oak doors into the long hallway leading to Mr. Fueller's office.
"I feel sorry for 'Made to Order' women like her. Genetically
perfect, but just as flawed upstairs as a robot. At least, old-fashioned
born in the womb women have some sense, if very little. No less than
their male counterparts," Vernon told Wade.
"Oh? Well, who isn't like a robot these days. You tell someone
something's wrong and they go out to get three treatments to fix it,"
Wade replied. "What're we doing in Hell anyways?"
"I don't know really. The message just said he'd like to discuss
something with the two of us. Probably a buy off. Maybe we'll walk away
with a bribe and a new story," Vernon said.
"Oh, you backstabbing bastard," Wade laughed. Vernon shrugged.
"I never claimed to be perfect. I leave things like that to Ms.
Made back there." The two finished the long corridor by passing through
another set of large, oak doors. This set led direct into the large
office of Morris Fueller.
Fueller sat behind his desk, a smile less perfect than the
secretary but obviously worked on by his finest scientists. The office
was big, windowless, and dimly lit, making it seem like a library from
the Middle Ages. As the two reporters made their way toward Fueller
across the expansive room, they were approached by two genetically
engineered machines of intimidation that grabbed the reporters and jammed
needle guns into their necks. With an intense sting, the guns went off
into the blood-streams of the reporters. The men released their burly
grips and pushed the two reporters, who were rubbing their necks, on.
When they reached Fueller, Wade gave a sarcastic dodge move as if to
avoid another attack by one of Fueller's boys. Fueller motioned for the
two to sit down.
"How're you fine men today? Genes doing you fine? Wives doing you
fine?" Fueller asked. He clasped his hands together and continued to
grin.
"Oh, we're fine...except that..." Wade said as he looked toward
Vernon. Vernon nodded and rubbed his neck.
"I don't know if you noticed, but on our way in, we were accosted
by two men. They gave us these stinging shots. You might want to have
them fired," Vernon continued. Fueller let out a hearty laugh and slapped
his desk.
"Not to worry about those two. They knew what they were doing. You
see, I'm constantly trying to stay ahead of any nano-viruses that might
try to kill or alter me in embarrassing ways. You've been injected with
our best," Fueller replied. "After all, you are my newest friends."
"And why's that?" Wade asked. Vernon moved uncomfortably in his
chair. Wade couldn't make out if it was of nervousness or just the chair,
but his colleague was definitely uncomfortable.
"Because you two are going to help me promote my newest models in
the "Made to Order" female line," Fueller said.
"And why is that?" Vernon asked, now crossing his legs and placing
his hand on his stomach. Wade saw the need for a bathroom in this
posture, but said nothing.
"Well, because you two helped to inspire these two new models. Now,
I've still got the loving nicknames to my line, the ones that gentlemen
prefer, but I took some of your ideas to create...well, let's take a look
at Candy and Apple shall we?" Fueller finished. He waved his hands over
the holocontrol to his left, and the desktop opened to reveal the
projections of two, nicely endowed, slightly chunky, wide-hipped and
super-big-assed women, one red headed and the other blonde, but both with
the same beautiful face. It was a classic beauty that had come from an
earlier time, when people weren't all perfect. "I present Candy and Apple
Bigbottom."
"Well, the name is fitting. So I see you decided to make a more
human model, but what's the occasion?" Wade asked. Vernon leapt to his
feet and dashed for the bathroom.
"Sorry! I have to miss this. Nature calls!" Vernon called behind
him. Wade chuckled gently, but stopped when his stomach lurched once.
Allergic reaction? Maybe. But this guy would have a lot on his hands if
two reporters died, accidentally or intentionally, so their deaths would
be a good thing. Until he knew for sure he was dying though, he wouldn't
miss this revelation for the world. Fueller was finally cracking under
the pressure of the monotonous society he'd help create.
"The occasion is that I've decided anyone can have perfection with
any of our models. So why not create a do-it-yourself? Or even a model
for the 'dirty ones' in our society who like a little roll in the hay
with one of our less than perfect creations," Fueller replied with a wide
grin.
"Sounds fantastic. And I guess you expect us to report this? What's
the payment?" Wade asked, now feeling like he was being pricked with
millions upon millions of large needles. His heart was pounding, and he
felt cold. Fueller laughed at his question.
"No, not report, and there will be no pay, though this does cost me
some money. The vials of the genetic material and nanotechnology to
create these women costs a lot. But it's worth it, especially when the
initial test is a success," Fueller replied. Wade climbed to his feet,
only to flop back down as his knees buckled.
"What did you do to us?" Wade asked.
"Oh, isn't it simple to figure out? Don't you reporters think to
figure things out anymore?" Fueller replied. Wade's insides churned, and
his body felt as though it was ripping itself apart. He spewed the
sandwich he'd had for lunch out onto himself.
"Nano-virus? Poison? Two dead reporters on your hands is a big
deal." Fueller laughed as Wade felt even more as though he was melting.
"Not quite. Jeez. I don't kill people. It's wasteful and it stands
against everything I've built. It is something suited for dealing with
troublesome people such as yourself. Normally, we use genetic material
from newly deceased people, fetuses, or criminals, but in the cases in
which I really need someone to disappear, it works just as well."
"What are you doing to us?" Wade squawked out. His ribbed caved
inward and he felt the bones in his legs moving in an equally painful
way. Most of Wade's mind was in shock, or else he'd have been screaming.
"Please bring his friend out of the restroom. I'm worried about
that one. There might not be enough material. It'll take some of our
technicians to insure survival." Fueller's men received the old man's
order and stormed into the nearby restroom without a single knock. In
moments, they removed Vernon, and Wade's mind consciously let go of his
bladder eons after it had released unconsciously. Vernon was in screaming
agony as his skin literally wiggled in the men's gloved hands. His dirty
blonde hair now hung to the middle of his back, and he was much shorter
with his hips flared drastically outward around a sickening, lessening
joke of a penis and ball sac. Vernon's tortured face burned into Wade's
memories as it resembled the female in the still present hologram. Wade
whimpered as he recognized that his hair was now blanketing his shoulder.
He let out a scream as the burning in his chest grew past reason. He
looked at Fueller with fear in his eyes. Fueller clicked his tongue and
shook his head. "Sorry, friend, the nanos won't let your mind pass out.
It could lead to brain damage as they reorganize the cells. Luckily, both
of you seem to be coming along nicely, which means that my concerns over
mass were unfounded."
"No...pulis!" Wade barely got out these painful parodies of words.
His back cracked and he gasped in the sweet air of the room as he stared
at the ceiling. Or was he a she by now? The hair on the back of his head
had some weight, but the feeling of weight came and went. The pain was
too much.
"The only trouble should be your excessive weight, which will..."
Wade threw up again. The taste was bloody, greasy, and everything horrid
all at once. He might've shit himself once again. Fueller didn't
hesitate. He leapt over beside Wade with gloves on and lifted the
reporter, soon to be mail order wife, so that he didn't drown in his own
vomit. The puke poured down over Wade's now furry, nude crotch. He almost
felt like laughing when he saw that his paints hadn't survived the growth
that now barely let his hips fit in the chair. And judging by the girls
in the hologram, he had more growth to go. His entire body felt as though
it was ripping apart again, and he...she let out a cry like a scared
child.
Wade couldn't focus long enough to form words on her lips, and she
barely had the concentration to form them in his mind. Fueller smiled and
ripped open the button down shirt Wade had received from her sister one
Christmas some time in...time not now. Wade felt the nerve-endings
running from her naughty parts down below and the two large ones on her
chest flare up as Fueller copped some nice big feels. Wade moaned as the
doctor took his time examining her...development. Wade's head lolled over
as her motor functions began to reboot to stare at Vernon, who was now
panting in fear and pain as her transformation completed itself. Vernon's
eyes locked with Wade's and there was almost a moment of understanding in
both their minds, but the nanos had done their work too well for it to
truly fruit. Wade's loins flared for a bit staring at the other female,
who would be known as a Candy Bigbottom model henceforth, before the
nanos killed the parts that created the hormones that made a man called
him. Wade's mind glazed over as the nanos put her into a comatose state
to reduce the initial shock of existence. Fueller and his two men gently
released any grip on the two females as "Candy" and "Apple" slipped out
of consciousness. Fueller wiped his hands with a towel from his drawer,
making sure the vomit was gone.
"You can take them to implants and get the mental programming
started. Of course, not all the way as they wouldn't be sellable models
if we programmed them instantly. You know the drill. And no worries,
these nanos were programmed to deactivate once the collective central
processor reported 99% genetic reprogramming. At least, that's how
they're supposed to work. Give a few minutes. I'll be in the shower."
Fueller gave his men a smile and retired.
***
"INTRODUCING! FROM THE MAKERS OF DICK GALORE AND TAMMY KNOCKERS!
CANDY BIGBOTTOM!" the commercial screamed as the lovely blonde danced in
her skirt, which was too small for her ample rear to be fully contained,
and her lovely red blouse. She proceeded to cook dinner, greet the
neighbors, and garden. "AND HER SASSY SISTER! APPLE!"
Apple's ass took up the screen as it zoomed out to reveal her ample
rear in tight jeans. She spun with her pointer innocently placed in her
lips. Her tight shirt read "Beef, it's what's for dinner." Her nipples
became erect through the shirt as though whoever was watching had that
effect. Apple giggle and ran off. Ass and red hair bouncing. The screen
went white and the two beauties slowly emerged from the mist with nothing
on. Their hands concealed their nipples and pubic region from the world
(this was family TV of course). They were followed by a dozen duplicates,
all red haired or blonde, all nude, all with cream colored skin, and all
their eyes giving the same lustful message.
"GET YOURS NOW BEFORE SUPPLIES RUN OUT!"
Angelica
- 23.01.2022
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