Bianca Paragon - Conclusion free porn video

Foreword: Dear Readers, here's my conclusion to the tale. Again, thank you to friend Avaro Le Banni, whose kindness has saved this story from the blowing sands. Hopefully, I will be posting more of my "lost" stories soon. -- Best wishes, Toxis. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- BIANCA PARAGON A Tale Of Love Perfected by TOXIS CONCLUSION Bianca picked up the lipstick brush and twirled it lazily in the Navy Red. Not enough, she decided. Her hand slowly dragged the fine brush through the gooey cosmetic until the lipstick caked. Navy Red. Red with a bluish tinge. The kind of red that you used to see in those old Fifties color photos. Bimbo starlets whose heavy cosmetics had been blue-shifted by the crude color processing. Carefully, Bianca drew a line across her daughter Urina's pouting bottom lip. Collagen had made them deliciously full, positively fat. Oh well, Bianca's were just as plump. Victor had done them together. It was such a trial having a doctor as a husband. A flash of his face crossed her mind and Bianca's training took over. A need to touch his cock flushed her, made her feel a heat in her breasts. Bianca's surgically enhanced penis jutted upwards more fiercely, visible between her pendulous breasts. Bianca followed the natural curve of Urina's mouth, shaded it a little full in the center as she kept it narrow at the corners. Cupid's Bow. Against the heavy pearl pancake foundation, the red was startling. A fine eyeliner, black and iridescent, but not for Urina's eyes. They were already layered in paint. Bianca edged the glistening red lips in black, a cartoon border, somehow less human, comic strip Urina. Their fat jutting cocks crossed like swords. Big breasts pointed by shiny leather, cocks gleaming in rubber, painted perfumed bizarre near females, sitting face to face, doing each other's make up, Bianca's legs up and over Urina's thighs. Urina reached down and gently stroked her mother's cock. Bianca, at ease, relaxed in the sensations. Their hands were on each other now, Urina fondling her mother's prick, Bianca pulling on her daughter's enlarged nipples. The rings made that easy to do. Aroused, they stood, hand in hand and walked over to the set. A stunning California bikini blonde hung, tied to a metal frame. Naked. She thought she had been kidnapped. But Bianca and Urina knew better. They had been introduced to her husband whom he contracted for his cheating wife's kidnapping and training. Bad idea to cheat and sleep around. Worse idea to do it on a husband like her's, wealthy and cruel. The camera was dollying for a panning shot of the two leather and rubber clad she-male dominatrixes as they approached their victim. Bianca had the first line. Really, she had all the lines. Urina wasn't allowed to talk - to anybody, ever, for any reason, or else. Never. "Well, Cunt, now are you ready to obey," Bianca shrieked in a lisping, bitchy whine. She never spoke like that, Victor would kill her, but the audience would key into her she-male life style more quickly this way. The captive blonde frantically nodded her willingness to obey but the script said she refused. From the folding director's chair, Victor gave a little hand roll. Keep the action going. Follow the script. We "story- boarded" this thing, Bianca, give your next line. "Perhaps if we shot a little silicon into those tits of yours and pierced your nipples, you'd be more cooperative." Bianca minced carefully in her seven inch heels to the medical cart. Close up of the hypos, close up of the needles and rings. Quick cut and sharp focus extreme close up of the blonde's frantic eyes. She shakes her head, blonde hair covers her face at times but her panic is captured forever. The next hour is filled with a collage of shots of silicon being injected, of an open tipped bra being fitted and nipples pierced and rings set. The rings are set vertically so that they never lie flat. The blonde is ungagged so that she can scream. She exercises everyday and has wonderful lungs. The soundtrack keeps overloading. Wrap for lunch. Everybody back at One. The crew is as strange as Bianca, as Urina. Victor appears normal in his white t-shirt and duffers pants, a baseball cap on his head. He looks like a director. But the soundman is totally encased in rubber, locked in by the Mistress who delivered him this morning. The wardrobe mistress is a transvestite, the script girl is a drag queen with a heavy Mexican accent and the cameraman is a lesbian. She keeps telling Victor to get more footage of the blonde's cunt. Okay, everybody. Final Shot. Only one chance. We can't reshoot any of this so let's get it right. Camera Three" you stay with her face no matter what. I want to see her reactions as we take her through the end. Camera Two, stay on Bianca when we come to the cunt lacing, the ear marking and the tattoos. Camera One, stay in medium shot until the tit brand. Then, zoom back to capture her convulsions. ' The "walk thru" had helped. So had the fact that Bianca had been allowed to practice cunt piercing and lacing on a rented slave. The blonde had been laced and marked, the tattoos adorned her ass. No silly iron in the fire. Cheap theatrical nonsense, no body believed it, figured the iron was covered in red paint and the "brand" would wash off when the video ended. Bianca picked up the modified wood burning tool. Where the chiseled burning element would normally be, the word "WHORE," big letters, glowed red. This was real. The letters burned into the wooden table were real. The audience would get its money's worth for real. The smell of burning flesh was all over the set in moments after the brand was pushed into the blonde's ample right breast. High in the cleavage, there was no way to hide the disfigurement. One-One-Thousand, Two-One- Thousand. She was wailing and utterly rigid. Three-One-Thousand. The blonde was trying to pull away, convulsions had started in her thighs and urine was running down her legs. Four-One-Thousand. She was out of control, pulling, twisting, screaming, eyes glazed, all trying to draw her charring flesh away from its permanent destruction. Her bowels were releasing. Five-One-Thousand. The soft brown feces exploded from between her perfectly rounded asscheeks, splattering the floor and her legs. Bianca was behind the blonde when it happened and her rubber leggings took much of the mess. Camera Three was in for a close pan on the brown slime. Urina stepped back. Camera One returned from its distant position to close in on the blackened brand on the girl's tit. WHORE. Would the heat alter the silicon? Who cared? When this guy got through with her, the blonde might not even have tits. Bianca stepped up from behind. Victor gave her the nod and Bianca struck her victim full in the face with a leather mace. The blonde's finely chiseled cheeks and nose shattered under the blow. Blood ran freely as Bianca forced a molded plastic mask across the damaged female's features. The crushed cheekbones were forced into blunt, oversized curves, the nose compressed flat across the face. Internal packing held the shape. CUT. PRINT. That's a wrap, people. Thank you. If you'll stay, you can pick up your checks before you go. Bianca sat in her chair by Victor's. Urina was still up by their latest transformation victim, studying what the facial mask would do. The script had an opening scene of Holly - that had been her name - coming out of a Rodeo Drive shop, golden and glamorous. She was followed, you got to know her, what she looked like, what she was like as a person by the way she carried herself. Abducted, tortured, transformed. The ending credits would roll over the new Holly. A few more things would get done. Her lips would get enlarged, eye muscles cut, her head shaved. A close up of her now, in full hooker drag, on the street - granted at Six A.M. but the audience wouldn't know that - negroid features, branded, balloon busted, ringed, marked. Fade to black in a litter strewn alley as a trick beats her with his fists. Victor had made $100,000 profit, net of rentals and salaries for the technicians for directing and producing what was becoming a new trend in the kink market. Involuntary disfigurement. Disfiguring a beautiful woman, forcing a sex change, it was the successor to snuff. He had retained rights and the Husband got to dispose of the "star." Currently, it was planned that Holly would be sold to Thai brothers who ran a kink brothel north of Bangkok. "Dinner looks scrumptious, Kitten," Victor smiled. Bianca fluffed her full skirt and patted her big bouffant in place. The harlequin glasses made it difficult to see but she endured them for her husband. "Thanks, Honey, but Urina cooked everything. I just helped." "Well thank you, Urina. You're turning into quite the little domestic, aren't you?" Urina blushed with pleasure. Why am I doing that? She shifted her poodle skirt in a nervous gesture and smiled. Daddy always expected a big smile when he doled out one of his rare complements. He likes what I made! Urina couldn't divorce herself from the glow she felt. "I think today went well, Dear, don't you?" Bianca looked at Urina, a glance from the corner of her eye. It was hard to know how to answer. Sometimes, Victor said things, not what he really thought but as a trap. Gone would be the polite exterior and the paranoid inside would be accusing and throwing plates. Food would be rubbed harshly into soft, painted faces and fine wine poured over painfully attended hairdos. "Very well indeed, Dearest. I think it will be very popular," she responded demurely. Bianca's face felt stiff smiling. No matter how painful, it was so much easier to smile. Victor got so cross when she frowned. And then he would spank her until the tears of her smiles puddled the floor. "And Urina, you little minx, how's your scrapbook coming?" Urina smiled shyly, looking down and away. Her scrapbook came up from her lap and was handed by neatly white gloved hands to her father. ""Very nice. Oh, that's a good one." Victor was turned the pages. A photo of Urina and Bianca, their twin pricks ravaging a matron from Fresno. Urina sucking her mother's cock, Bianca returning the favor up Urina's ass. "A very nice job, Urina. I thought this project would do you good." Dumbly, Urina nodded and simpered foolishly as Daddy patted her head. God, my Thing looks so BIG in this skirt. Urina kept her eyes down. Daddy thought it made his "girls" look more demure if they kept their eyes constantly averted. Urina thought it was a good way to stay out of trouble. Tonight, she was wearing the black satin poodle. Well, not really a poodle, they were so full. Her skirt was a hobble with a poodle at the hip. Her twelve inch rod; four inches around, was molded by the shimmering satin. I wonder if Bianca wants to play tonight. There was an undeniable attraction between them now. The part of Urina that had been Joan never seemed to surface when Urina played with Bianca. It was all fondles breasts and sucking penises and reamed rectums. So bizarre, so good! Urina rubbed her high heel against Bianca's nylon sheathed leg. Her vagina was contracting insistently around the imbedded reciprocal end of the dildo that thrust so boldly from her groin. Dinner was over. Daddy had the paper, heading for the porch. Urina had the dishes stacked by the sink when Bianca's hands came around and cupped Urina's heavy breasts. Urina could feel the pillowy weight of her mother's breasts on her back, the hardness of her mother's cock rubbing steadily up and down in the vertical valley of her ass. Greedily, she turned around and covered Bianca's mouth with her own. Somehow, it was better making love with someone with breasts, big breasts, and a cock. Slowly, the two she-males slid to the floor in a passionate sixty-nine. ********* Victor. Where are you, Victor? No use. Don't hide. No use. I'll find you, Victor. In the closet. He could hear his breathing. Too loud! She'd hear. She'd know. And find him. And SEE him. Victor pushed his girdled rump further back in the closet. Victor, are you in here? Answer your mother this instant, you little shit! Dammit, Victor, answer me or I swear. Her high heels clacked down the hall. A sigh of relief, the wrong way. Passed him over, now she would look outside. The screen door banged. Slowly, Victor edged out of the closet. Her skirt made it hard to walk, Lisa's heels twisted his ankles, her girdle made him feel - how? Odd, but why did he do this? Dress in his step-mother's clothes? Victor didn't know why, he just had to get out of them. Now. Click. Click. Click. He held his breath but his heels couldn't be silenced as he made his way down the hallway to his room. He backed in, looking, making sure no one saw, that she did not come up from behind. That he wasn't caught, wasn't destroyed by her. SMACK! SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!! A flurry of slaps landed on his tightly molded rump. His tears were flowing before Victor knew why. Lisa, his step-mother, was swinging a leather ping-pong paddle, red faced angry and determined. "Little pansy! Sissy boy! Your name isn't Victor; it's Victoria. And I'll call you "Vickie." You want to dress up so much, I'll keep you in panties until I change my mind not to." Victor could feel the corset being laced, the girdle being dragged on. Perm curlers were being rolled into his waist length hair. Lisa's Bridge Club laughed at him as he sat by their card table, letting a professional cosmetologist do his face. It's too tight, the corset is too tight. Victor tried to run in his high heels but his ankle broke and fell off. The gleaming shoe, with the stump of his foot, rolled away. There should be blood. Lisa was scolding him for breaking his leg in two and the corset was too tight and the make up was burning his face and he ... was ... going ... to ... "Wake up, Victor, WAKE UP!!" Bianca was shaking her trembling husband. "It's only a dream. You're having a bad dream" Victor's eyes darted about the room, avoiding Bianca's. Slowly, his heaving chest began to moderate, the sweat matted his pajamas to his chest. Deliberately, Victor pushed Bianca away. She mustn't see him so weak. Her scarlet corset left her breasts bare and they jiggled whitely in the moonlight. Bianca tried to follow but the heelless ballet boots made that impossible. The Dream. It never went away, did it? How old had he been? Thirteen? Fourteen? Mother had left Dad and Victor, ran off with a salesman from somewhere. Victor had never found out. Then, Lisa came along. She was only twenty-three, sexy and very dominant. She made Dad crawl in front of Victor. Literally, get down on the floor and crawl. One time, when he forgot to run one of her errands, she put a dog collar on him and left him in the back yard, tied to a tree overnight. And Victor. At first, she had merely teased the boy, sensed his growing sexuality and taunted him with it. She took to touching him, whispering in his ear. Victor was eating his breakfast. The school bus would be there in ten minutes. Lisa came into the kitchen in bra, garter belt, stockings, black lace and patent high heels. Nothing else. Victor wasn't there, Lisa never looked at him, acknowledged him, left as she had came, unobtainable. A pair of panties turned up in his drawer. They were perfumed and he smelled them. They fit. Soon, he was making regular excursions to Lisa's lingerie chest. Sometimes, he would try something. Then, it was a dress or even something more. Coats, gloves, hats, jewelry - even the perfume. That's what he had been doing the day she caught him. Victor trembled. He never stopped trembling when he had The Dream. Dad had been helpless when Lisa proved good as her word. Little Vickie was forced into skirts and frills indefinitely. When school started up, Vickie had to stay home and do her chores. Lisa was relentless in her ways to humiliate her step-son. As Vickie, Victor would find himself being made to dance with older boys, letting them feel him up, enjoy him and when they found out that he was a male, telling him that they' liked that too. Victor ran away when he was eighteen. Stolen male clothes, mail order courses, slowly he caught up, got back to where he should have been. Dad had been a doctor. Victor should have been one too. He tried to get in but there was too much of a learning deficit. There was paramedical training and working in Hospitals. He had learned a lot. The old house looked run down. Dad answered the door and it took a minute for victor to recognize him. Shaved head, ring in his nose - a male voice from the back of the house asked who was at the door. Dad looked back and said nobody. The voice said to shut the fucking door, don't want my bitch talking to nobody. The door shut and Victor had lost his father. Lisa was gone. All the money was gone. All that was left was the damage. Victor shivered in the night air. He looked back into the bedroom. Bianca was seated on her heels on the bed, hands holding her hair behind her head, a standard waiting pose that emphasized her breasts. In that half light, full of muted greys and shimmering silvers, the way her nose turned, the curve of her cheeks, the way the surgery had shaped her eyes, he could see the "Lisa" in her. Smiling, Victor went back to bed, his penis hard and his hands firmly wrapped in her hair, taking Lisa from behind. ********* Urina tried to ignore the bandages across her nose. It wasn't the first time she had undergone surgery on her face. She and her mother had undergone the procedure together. Daddy seemed to be very concerned that the look be as identical as possible. The other night had been so terrible. Daddy had been screaming and Mommy was screaming to Daddy to wake up. Urina had wanted to help but she wasn't allowed out of her room at night and, besides, she wasn't allowed to speak. Why am I thinking like this? I'm an adult. Just because I'm treated like a child doesn't mean I am one. But it's not as simple as that, is it? Urina could feel that it had gone too far. Days passed when she never thought of her life as Joan, when she never thought of Bianca Paragon Crown as not as her mother, thought of her HUSBAND. Oren. Why am I so proud when Daddy ... I mean, Victor, compliments me? Why do I need his approval? And why am I so accepting of Oren as a she-male? What happened to me at the Training School? I should be revolted when Bianca .. I mean, Oren, touches me. Why do I get so excited when she does? Urina couldn't help it. She always thought of Bianca as more feminine than male now, and most times it seemed that Bianca really was her mother. It was still hard to remember what had happened after they took her out of the immersion tank. She could recall the hospital room she stayed in and all the injections. They had made her listen to tapes on an mp3 player, all the time, but so quiet that you could hardly hear them. Skillfully, Urina took the curlers out of her platinum blonde hair. It was a different look. Bianca was blonde too now. Victor, Daddy .. , damn, I mean Victor! .. will like it, I guess. Bianca came in and busily set out a dress for Urina to wear to dinner. Odd, I still try to refuse to think of Victor as Daddy but Oren, my own husband, I only want to think of him as Mother or Bianca. Unconsciously, Urina compared her breasts to her mother's. Daddy's last surgery had enhanced them again. The dress matches Mother's! Urina was so happy. They'd look like twins. She made sure her make up matched, her hair bubbled in a similar bouffant. Hand in hand, they went down to dinner, matching dolls dressed for play. ********* Bianca listened attentively. It was hard to pay attention to Victor. She kept looking at his cock and wondering if it was hard. Was he hard just looking at her? Yes, she was very happy that Urina was with them now. Yes, Oren (that strange echo in her mind) was happy too. That was good because Oren was thinking of letting Urina talk! And he was concerned that Urina would be disobedient and say things to upset Bianca. Urina knew about the Oren voice in Bianca's mind .. She might say things that the Oren voice would use to hurt Bianca. Could Bianca handle that? Bianca snapped from her reverie, dreaming of having her husband's rigid organ between her breasts, and nodded. She knew that Urina might need discipline but whatever made Victor happy made Bianca happy and Urina would have to learn that too. And Mistress Regina was always there to help if there was a problem. ********* The clamp held Urina's tongue firmly pulled from her mouth. A forest of pins stuck up from the pink surface of her tongue. Urina had been talking about bad things and it was time to be punished. Slowly, Bianca thrust her cock into Urina's asshole. A sigh escaped from Bianca, a shudder from Urina. "Urina, I've told you. I don't want you trying to talk to the Oren voice about his Joan. You are Urina. I am Bianca and Oren and Joan are just pretend." Bianca stuck another pin in Urina's tongue. "Now you say it." Saliva streamed down Urina's cheeks. Slowly, she stammered. "AAHHH'MM EHRR-EEENNAH ... UUHR BEE- ANHK-AH." Bianca smiled and asked Urina to repeat and repeat and repeat. Until Bianca ran out of pins. ********* Urina was afraid. She told Bianca but Bianca was too. Strange people were talking to Daddy. All the bandages were off. Now Urina and Bianca looked like twin sisters, twin twenty-three year old sisters. What did these people want? They had been talking for hours. Every now and then, they could hear Victor. Are you sure? Are you really sure? You must tell me that you are sure. Sure of what? What was there to be so sure of? And who were these people and what did they want? There were very few visitors here. Just the crew when they were making a video and the girl to be transformed and sometimes a person who watched. But otherwise, they were alone. Who were these people? Victor came out. He was smoking a cigarette. Neither she-male had ever seen him do that before. He ignored them but the way he did so was scary. He was rigid, stiff, his back almost arched. Like he was in a parade! It was awful. Bianca and Urina tried to stay out of his way, two hapless soft creatures terrified of what was coming. I need your help. He had never asked for that before! I need your help. There's someone. who hurt me, hurt me desperately, nearly destroyed me and ruined my family. She escaped but I looked and I kept looking. For weeks and years and these people today told me where she is. I need your help to make a very special video. A video for me. If you love me, you'll do this for me. A very special video. Will you help me? Bianca? Urina? It was like being in a fog. Or maybe a dream. Urina felt pressure on her from all sides. Her vision tunneled and her face flushed. A pressure was inside her too, rising to escape. Her throat was closing. Bianca looked over to Urina. No pancake foundation could conceal the flushed glow creeping rapidly over her features. Tears were rolling down from her dramatically made up eyes. Urina could feel her tears too. Hot, fast rolling tears coursing down her cheeks, running her mascara, making her look foolish. I look foolish. Big girls don't cry. Mommy will think I'm an airhead. But Mommy was crying too and her mascara was running in black streaks. We look so silly. Whatever will Daddy think of us? How can too silly she-males like us ever help Daddy? Bianca and Urina took each other's hand and smiled serenely through their ravaged make up. They would do whatever he asked. After all, they were a family. ********* Lisa felt the cloth cover her mouth. The odor! It was making her gag. Her head was swimming. Blacking out, she was falling, couldn't see. Hands were picking her up and putting her. Down. In a car trunk? The engine was starting and they were moving and Lisa tried to scream ... "UP, BITCH, AND SWIVEL!!" Wearily, Lisa struggled to her feet, bleeding in the new six inch heels. Her skirt came to mid-calf and gave her no relief from its severe hobble. "I SAID SWIVEL!!!" Lisa bean to walk as the treadmill started. Her hips gyrated from side to side as she hurried to match the treadmills pace. Left, right, left, right. Her hips grinded away. Part of the problem was her arms, bound up inside a corset. They called it a Venus de Milo corset. It figured. Lisa took a peek at Mistress Urina who had been the one to get her moving again. Train for four hours, rest for ten minutes, train again. How long had this been going on? They looked so much like her and they didn't. Her Mistresses were both blonde, platinum blonde. Lisa was blonde but not so obvious. Their noses were upturned but Lisa's not so sharply. Their breasts were big but much bigger than Lisa's. It was as if they were super-sexy versions of Lisa. That made no sense. She stumbled. A switch flicked her rear and Lisa hurried to keep up. Thinking did no good. Lisa only distracted herself and gave them a chance to humiliate her. She could see her ass wiggle in the mirror. Another way to humiliate her, watching herself walk with an absurd hip swing. No woman would walk like this. Off the treadmill, Lisa was sent on errands. Fetch me this with your teeth. Go over, get down on your knees, bend to the floor and kiss my toe. And swivel! Urina straddled Lisa's head. The funnel was strapped in the crying female's mouth. A hot stream still trickled from between Urina's legs, the sound of gagging still filling the room. Bianca and Urina were teaching Lisa all the tricks. Golden and brown showers, fist fucking front and back, auto-masturbation on display and on command, self-tit torture. Lisa's thighs glistened with sweat and now with Urina's golden piss. Her legs continued to pump away, the pedals of the exercycle flying. Her high heels had been strapped to the pedals and Lisa had been forced to pedal for all she was worth. Whenever she tired, a whipping on her ass, or maybe her tits, got her moving. There was no rest. And hardly any food. Lisa wanted to think, to sleep. They wouldn't let her sleep. Her legs kept pumping. Bianca rammed a steroid-loaded hypo into Lisa's ass and plunge the powerful hormones home. What are they doing to me? Her thighs were rock hard, laboring endlessly. Lisa didn't know it but they were also two inches bigger. UP ... DOWN ... UP ... DOWN ... UP" Bianca called the cadence for Lisa as she squatted. Armless it was difficult to keep her balance and stay centered over the fourteen inch dildo mounted to the floor. UP. Lisa rose up and off the dildo. DOWN. She impaled herself and sunk down as far as she could. Mistress Bianca stood before Lisa, towering over her, flaunting a huge black rubber covered erection in Lisa'a face. The shock had worn off. Men with tits? Women with cocks? Lisa had been fucked by both her Mistresses in every hole she had. Her ever more muscular thighs were making her capable of endless fucking bouts. And now they were training her to fuck herself for their amusement. UP. Lisa grimaced, her vagina was torn, the fucking dildo was too big, she was torn and bleeding, she just knew it! DOWN. Lisa sank down, ignoring the pain. Mistress Bianca grabbed Lisa roughly by the hair and forced her massive prick into the hapless woman's mouth. UP. Victor sat behind the two-way mirror and watched. Urina had his cock in her mouth while Bianca kept Lisa going through the afternoon session. Orgasm, a groan and Urina quickly swallowing. A wave of the hand dismissing her. It was all going to plan. Soon, Lisa would be ready for the final phase. The VCRs were rolling. He was getting it all on tape. Later he would edit. And watch. Whenever The Dream came. This is an operating room. Lisa looked around. What am I doing here? Their breasts, this is where they got them! Oh My God!! They're going to give me huge breasts against my will. A doctor was checking instruments. Mistresses Bianca and Urina were dressed like nurses but all in white rubber. Their big erections were bulging grossly through the thin fabric. Now the doctor was drawing lines. On her breasts, her face, her shoulders, her feet - everywhere it seemed. Lisa caught his eye. He pulled his mask down and smiled. Lisa screamed, screamed his name and was screaming when the mask for anesthesia covered her mouth. Her last thought was of his smile. It was almost impossible to sit up. Lisa turned to her side and got out of bed. How her arms had been removed without a scar was beyond her. Her tailored suit made no allowance for upper limbs - a perfect torso molded by her corset. She needed the corset after the ribs had been removed. The tranquilizers kept her docile in her new condition. Her skirt slid easily over her very wide hips. How much fat had been inserted there? Her hips canted back and forth in extreme wiggles. Lisa found that now it was easier to swivel than walk normally. Maybe it had to do with the arms being gone. They had done her breasts. Really big now, 36FF, absolute udders, mammoth. And jutting out from an ultra-slim silhouette? Devastating! How they had given her a cock, she couldn't understand, nor could she see how she got an erection. One minute, she had a flaccid eight inch penis softly lumped under her mini skirt. Then, she had a bobbling fifteen inch hard-on lifting the pleated front of her crepe mini, the purpled mushroom head lewdly sticking out beyond the skirt's hem. Lisa sat on the dildo stool, felt its length slid up her rear. They were coming, the chime had sounded. Mistress Bianca pulled the strap tight across her lap. Lisa wasn't going anywhere. Lisa had no arms to resist. Lisa was a plaything. "Lisa, allow me to introduce to you my wife," Bianca nodded, "and my daughter." Urina nodded in turn. "You see, this is a family project and we are a family." Victor gestured to the two she-males next to him. Bianca and Urina slipped their arms around his waist. "Your destruction is our project." Lisa tried to say something but only mumbles escaped her gag. "Do you know what a trans-orbital pre-frontal lobotomy is, Lisa? No? Pity. I'll tell you now because later you won't care." Victor picked up a long needle. "This needle is inserted behind the eyeball and made to penetrate the lower brain. From there, I can destroy parts of your brain. Just like the lobotomy you hear about in all the jokes. The results are very interesting. You'll feel disoriented at first but later you'll feel insecure, weak, stupid, placid, obedient." Bianca and Urina held Lisa very still. They had to. Victor elected not to use an anesthetic. ********* The Crown family enjoyed dinner outside that night. Bianca had made a wonderful meatloaf. Urina was bringing out her best apple pie. Dr. Crown watched his two she-males as they bowed and simpered, served and waited. Their male appendages jutted stiffly through their specially cut petticoats. He thought about taking them in his hands. Later. Lisa had left that morning. Sold to a very selective freak show in Hamburg. 36FF-16-S0, armless, bald, rings in her ears, nose, cheeks, tits - Hell, a ring anywhere one would fit. And docile. Very very docile. As a demonstration, Victor had taken a pinch of skin on Lisa's skull, pierced it and set a ring. Lisa hadn't flinched. Bianca sat on her husband's lap. Her she-male condition very evident. Her tongue went in his ear and she followed that by few suggestions. The Crown family retired to the bedroom, aroused, ready. Dr. Crown brought his wife and daughter with him, dragging them along, ignoring their sissyish squeals of false protest, by their hard, hard cocks. Bianca looked over to Urina, her eyes heated with arousal. Urina was half-mincing, half-being dragged by her father's firm grasp on her penis. Halting, playing the flirtatious game of reluctance, the two pretties allowed themselves to be forced into the bedroom. They undressed Victor first and then each other. Husband becomes mother, wife a daughter. Captor becomes father protector. Force turns to fever and pain to passion. Victor came in Bianca's mouth. Urina thought her mother had never looked so lovely. She licked her mother's lips clean and kept licking. It was love and it was perfect. THE END