Doc s Complex 05 What s Wrong With Fantasies
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Doc's Complex 02 - Fantasies Come True free porn video
Doc's Complex 02 - Fantasies Come True
by Lee Most
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Preface to Chapter 2
I said there were nineteen men at the start of the last chapter and later
that eight had gone missing, leaving nine to search for them. I
naturally won't admit I made such a simple error in math, so let's
explain what happened to those extra two men, who had the very short
names Sly and Mo, because I want to keep this short.
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When everyone split up to search the various tunnels, Sly and Mo
discovered a tunnel that doubled back on itself so sharply that the turn
looked like a dead end even from only a few feet away. That's why none
of the others found it even after they were trapped by the fallen slab
and needed a second way out of the mine.
Exploring this hidden part of the tunnel system, the two men noticed a
light ahead, and soon found themselves at a doorway to a brilliantly lit
garden full of gorgeous women!
The women wore the most revealing clothing the men had ever seen, and
every single one of them would have been an instant winner of Playboy's
Playmate of The Year had Hugh Hefner ever seen her. Bikini bathing
suits, skintight cat suits, see-through nightgown, micro mini-skirted
dresses with necklines that left nothing to the imagination, everywhere
they gaped a new -- and very pleasant -- surprise met their eyes.
Their minds were so boggled by the women that they barely noted the
garden, the benches, the fountains and sculptures, the houses in the
distance, or the way the door behind them faded and became part of a
pretty, vine-covered wall. They did notice the purplish-pink sky, but
figured that they were still underground and it was some form of
artificially-lit ceiling, although it seemed to be a mile overhead.
The other odd thing about this place was the dreamlike quality due to the
complete lack of shadows, making it hard to judge distance except by
perspective or moving their heads back and forth a little.
Frozen in astonishment and lust, they stood there only a few seconds
before a voice far too loud blared, "INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!
ROBOTS TO LEVEL NINE, SECTION SIXTEEN, MINE EXIT TWO! EVERYONE ELSE TAKE
THE NEAREST TELEPORTER TO A DIFFERENT LEVEL! WE ARE CLEARING LEVEL NINE!
I REPEAT, WE ARE CLEARING LEVEL NINE!"
Adding to the already stupefying amazement of the two men, the women were
suddenly gone! Following the loud voice's instructions they all
immediately stopped whatever they were doing and walked through the
pinkish-purple doorways of the houses and vanished. The plants, artwork,
intricate mosaic floors, even the wrought iron benches and arbors, and
the stone sculptures and fountains all slid towards the doorways or up to
the similarly-colored ceiling and disappeared as well. Then the fronts
of the houses seemed to melt and like a liquid drained into the doorways
leaving behind only the smooth, glowing white walls. Then, the grass and
stone pathways also flowed into the doorways so the floor soon matched
the walls: a smooth, glowing white surface without even a smudge or a
speck of dust to indicate that dozens of people and hundreds of objects
had been all around them only moments before. As if the huge space was
no longer needed, two of the walls slid closer to the two men, stopping
about ten yards apart. The sky also lowered, becoming a ceiling thirty
feet overhead.
Everything had happened so quickly that they didn't have time to get
scared. They were in a park full of sexy girls, and literally a minute
later they were standing alone in an empty corridor with no features but
the former doorways of the houses, now simple purplish-pink rectangles on
the featureless walls.
"Mo," Sly whispered, "there are the robots."
Looking like something from a 1950s science fiction movie, the two metal
men's feet rang louder and louder as they quickly approached the men from
opposite ends of the hallway the huge space had become.
"Sly," Mo whispered back, "the doorway is gone."
It was. They could not go back the way they had come.
"Maybe we can both run at one of the robots and knock it down," Sly
suggested.
"NO, YOU CAN'T!" boomed the same loud voice as before, "YOU WILL SLEEP
NOW!"
Mo had clapped his hands over his ears to muffle the volume, but
instantly realized that the voice was actually inside his head. He
watched Sly sink to the floor and begin snoring, and Mo thought to
himself, "What is this? Some sort of telepathy?"
"YES! NOW, SLEEP!"
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Mo drowsily opened his eyes to stare at a TV screen above him. He was
lying flat on his back. He did not have to move to tell that all his
clothes were gone. Two full-length mirrors hanging from the ceiling
reflected the image of his naked body lying motionless on a steel table
that had all sorts of robot arms sticking out from the sides.
"Where am I?" he wondered.
"YOU ARE ON A CHANGING MACHINE'S OPERATING TABLE ON LEVEL EIGHT OF MY
COMPLEX!"
"Can you talk a little quieter? Your voice is so loud."
"I AM NOT TALKING AT ALL. YOUR BRAIN IS CONVERTING MY TELEPATHIC
TRANSMISSIONS TO WORDS. YOU PERCEIVE IT AS LOUD BECAUSE THERE IS NO
INTERFERENCE FROM OTHER SOURCES AS THERE IS WHEN YOU HEAR WITH YOUR
EARS."
"What about Sly?"
"YOUR FRIEND IS ON THE NEXT TABLE AND WILL BE TRANSFORMED AT THE SAME
TIME AS YOU."
"Transformed? What do you mean?"
"YOU ARE MALE AND WERE CAUGHT IN A PUBLIC AREA OF MY COMPLEX. ONLY WOMEN
OR THOSE WHO LOOK LIKE WOMEN MAY WALK ABOUT FREELY IN MY COMPLEX. ALL
MEN WHO ARE DETECTED ARE CHANGED INTO WOMEN. NO EXCEPTIONS."
"What about our other friends? The ones we came with are still in the
mine. Will your robots come and get them?"
"FRIENDS? IN THE MINE?" There was a pause. "THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME
ABOUT THE OTHER TRESPASSERS. I WILL HAVE TO SET UP A NEW EXPERIMENT."
The table shook as the shockwave from the falling slab travelled through
the bedrock. "THERE. THAT WILL GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO KEEP THEM BUSY."
Mo was worried now. "What did you do to them?"
"FORGET ABOUT THEM. YOUR LIFE OUTSIDE THIS COMPLEX IS NOW ONLY A MEMORY
AND MEMORIES CAN BE CHANGED. THINK ONLY ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU
DESIRE, WHAT YOU FANTASIZE ABOUT."
"I fantasize about sexy girls like the ones we saw when we got here."
"GOOD. LOOK AT THE SCREEN AND SEE A SEXY GIRL."
Mo's mind had no defenses against the telepathic commands. Told to
forget about the others, he did. If you asked him a moment later, he
could not have told you who they were or how he had known them. Told his
life in the outside world was only a memory, his mind stopped considering
the problem of how to return to it. Told to use his imagination, he did.
A buxom young woman appeared on the screen wearing a tight sweater, a
short skirt, and high heels.
"OH, YOU CAN MAKE HER PRETTIER THAN THAT. WHAT HAIRSTYLE DID THE
PRETTIEST GIRL YOU EVER SAW HAVE? WHAT IS THE BEST MOUTH FOR KISSING?
DON'T YOU LIKE WOMEN WITH LONGER LEGS?"
Mo's answers were not verbal, but changes to the image on the screen.
With every question, every prompt, the image on the screen developed,
changed, became more detailed.
His decisions were not made in a vacuum or in ignorance. As part of the
question about hairstyles, for instance, Mo's mind was flooded with
images and memories and skills and other women's experiences and opinions
about hair. For the seconds before he decided on a hairstyle, Mo knew
how easy or hard it was to maintain each style, how to wash and dry and
style each length of hair, what thousands of other women thought about
each style, and how he in turn felt about those women and whether or not
he valued their opinions. He knew about the way women wore their hair in
different periods of history, and could determine what looks were
timeless, what looked modern, and what looks would "wow" people now but
would quickly go out of fashion. He also knew whether he wanted his
fantasy girl to like being on that bleeding edge of avant-garde fashion
or whether he wanted her to be a more stable type who chose her style and
stayed with it.
His decision made, the information vanished as his mind filled with
knowledge and opinions about mouths, lips, kissing, lipstick, teeth,
facial proportions, other things women did with their mouths, and a few
seconds later he forgot all that as he considered legs, feet, high heels,
stockings, knees, hips, thighs, exercises, muscle tone, skin, body hair,
shaving, and what kind of diet was needed to maintain her ideal size.
The questions kept coming, and Mo concentrated on the screen so much that
he did not notice when the two cones lowered themselves onto his chest,
the flexible band wrapped around his waist, other appropriately-shaped
things enveloped his feet and hands, and a helmet covered most of his
head. He ignored the motions of the robot arms as they began beaming
oddly colored rays at his arms and legs, rays that made his very bones
glow right through his skin.
After what seemed like hours of perfecting the image of the perfect girl
on the screen above him, Mo finally reached the point where could no
longer imagine even a single thing he wanted to improve. She was a tall
brunette with hair that was easy to manage and could be arranged into
just about any hairstyle. She had boobs the perfect size for his large
hands, an athletic body in perfect health, and long legs that would look
great in a miniskirt and high heels. She was a dancer and a good
housewife who loved to cook and actually enjoyed cleaning and doing
laundry, she loved to dress up in provocative outfits and go out and do
things, especially if it meant she could do them with her lover, and no
matter the activity, she was ready to do it.
"Her lover," not "her man," was one of the few corrections Doc insisted
Mo make. "HER LOVER WILL NOT BE A MAN. SHE WILL LIVE ONLY HERE IN MY
COMPLEX."
In the back of his mind, Mo had thought that all the equipment and the
fact he was lying on something called a "Changing Machine Table" meant
that he would be changed, and he suspected that he would become her, the
sexy girl on the screen. The giant metal cones on his chest were
definitely doing something to him there, and once his attention was no
longer locked onto the screen, he could see in the mirrors how the
visible parts of his body were changing in response to the strange rays.
They had done something to paralyze him so he could not react or pull
away when several of the mechanical arms crowded around his crotch and
began making his genitalia shrink. In a very short time, he was no
longer a male but a female. Other beams made parts of his lower belly
glow, and he suddenly KNEW that if he, or "she" now, did not take
precautions when having sex with a man, she would get pregnant.
"I'm a girl now," Mo thought, even as his memories began to change to
"her" memories. "It's okay, though. I suppose it should bother me, but
why? I've always been a girl."
As part of the process to develop his fantasy girl, Doc had made Mo
create a whole past for her as well.
"NO ONE REMEMBERS THEIR ENTIRE CHILDHOOD, JUST A LARGE NUMBER OF IMAGES
AND SCENES. WHAT DID SHE DO WHEN SHE WAS A LITTLE GIRL? WHAT KINDS OF
DOLLS DID SHE PLAY WITH?"
The TV screen showed images of a small girl playing with dolls in her
dollhouse, then others as she tried dressing up in her mother's clothes.
The images changed to show her as an older girl sitting in a classroom
daring to raise her hand when girls were supposed to be cute but dumb, in
high school dating the tall basketball players because they were the only
boys in high school taller than she was, as a senior girl wearing a
frilly red dress she to the prom, her arm resting on the arm of her tall,
handsome date. They showed her as a coed going to college and studying
biochemistry and the cute but nerdy lab partner she dated for a while,
and the even cuter lab partner she had the next year who she had also
dated, the one who hated men and who then convinced her to come here to
Doc's Complex.
Mo had felt a sense of accomplishment when he finally finished the life
story of his fantasy girl. It seemed consistent with what she looked
like, and explained why she was here in the Complex with memories of the
outside world.
Now, Mo felt Doc changing his, no, her own memories and it was like the
time he had watched a girlfriend redecorate his apartment: out with the
old stuff, and in with the new. His memories of being a little boy
dressed in striped t-shirt and muddy jeans playing with trucks changed as
she "watched," as if from a viewpoint off to the side of her mind. It
became (as she expected) a memory of being a little girl playing with
dolls, but, "No! This is wrong," she wanted to shout. "I said a
dollhouse, and little dolls with furniture, not Barbie dolls! I hate
Barbie dolls!"
A second later, that thought evaporated as she fondly remembered all the
fun she and her best friend had playing with Barbie and her friends Midge
and Ken.
His mind took a few minutes to accept that first changed memory, but once
it did, the next one was easier. If she was a little girl who had played
with dolls, the memory of being a boy trying to catch a ball with Daddy
made no sense at all. No, that was a false memory. She clearly
remembered helping her mother in the garden. Did she have a brother
named Mo? Yes, that was it. Her brother played catch and she could see
him getting all dirty diving for that silly ball while she kept her hands
clean in her gardening gloves that were just like the big ones Mommy
wore.
Then she discarded the memories of Daddy rooting for him in his Little
League baseball games while Mommy looked bored sitting next to him in the
bleachers, in favor of one where Mommy cheered her on to win all of those
childhood beauty contests while Daddy sat next to her in the audience
looking bored.
Faster and faster, his old memories were replaced with hers. She was not
a girls who put on a cape and pretended to be a comic book hero. No, she
spent her time learning at an early age to curl her long blond tresses
like Shirley Temple. She wasn't a class clown, no she was always the
teacher's pet! She wasn't a boy who always did what his parents wanted,
no, she hated all the rules and restrictions of her mother, so she
defiantly lost her virginity in eighth grade to a high school senior
quarterback!
With each memory of growing up as a girl, his later memories had no
foundation for their existence, and it was a good thing she was lying
down because she would have collapsed from the psychic shock as his
entire masculine identity cracked and split apart and then crumbled away
leaving a void almost instantly filled with a flood of her female
memories, none of which had anything to do with the life he had carefully
built up for his fantasy girl.
She remembered getting drunk a lot in high school. She remembered
banging the whole football team after a championship game, and then
kicking herself afterwards, and then kicking herself again when she
missed two periods. She remembered how she had to smile at everyone as
if she was going on a trip to Michigan when she was really going away for
the first time from the farm town where she grew up so she could get an
abortion.
Mo's parents had paid for his college education, but she was not Mo. She
came from parents who wanted nothing to do with a teenaged girl who got
pregnant in her senior year, so she had to work as a waitress in dirty-
spoon diners who didn't ask for proper papers from underage teens so she
could save up to pay for college. When she got there, she aced her
classes without studying much, majoring in psychology so she could figure
out why boys acted the way they did. Along the way, she discovered a
simple truth which could be summed up in an old one-liner: "Girls who try
to be walking encyclopedias should remember that reference books are
never taken out!"
She was very bright, but had to pretend to be a dumb blond bimbo or boys
would ignore her. She liked football players for their muscles, but
playing the dumb blond, she always found boys who liked dumb blonds.
That created a different problem, though, because she was not dumb and
that kind of guy hated when a girl proved herself smarter, and they would
hit her if she accidentally showed them up. Finally, after getting hit
by her latest boyfriend one too many times, she vowed to give up on men
altogether. She came here, chose the name "Roselinda," and has been
happy ever since, having found her perfect match, the tall, dark-haired
woman who seemed to be her perfect fantasy woman come to life. She even
changed her name to "Lindarose" to show how much she loved her!
They had been living together for a year now, and each month they
celebrated their anniversary by changing some part of their bodies to
please each other more. That was why she was here on this table.
Roselinda waited until the Changing Machine was finished, and looked
expectantly in the mirrors as the cones pulled away to reveal her newly
reduced breasts. Lindarose had complained, "They are as big as the
basketballs my boyfriends were always twirling on their fingers. Could
you choose balls from a different sport?"
Roselinda sat up, looked down at herself, and smiled, satisfied at the
new size and shape of her boobs. Once, as a goof, one of her boyfriends
had cut a football in half and stuck the halves in his t-shirt to do a
skit where he made fun of both Roselinda's cheerleading skills and her
flat chest. She had hated being flat and her first use of a Changing
Machine had been to "go big" when she had first come here.
Now, she had boobs the exact size and shape that stupid man would have
wanted, and (she smiled in satisfaction) he would never get to touch
them!
She aimed her smile at her lover on the next table, who was slowly
awakening from her own changes. She slid off the table and sashayed to
Lindarose, her prominent peaks leading the way. "Would you like to be
the first to touch them?"
"Yes," said Lindarose, feeling her up and tickling her with her long
nails. She grinned lasciviously, licking the lips of her wide mouth with
her new tongue, and then licking her eyebrows just to show off. "Would
you like to try my latest change?"
Giggling, the two women walked out of the Changing Room with no memory at
all of their former lives.
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As a story, this can actually stand on its own, but as Chapter 2 of the
novel "Doc's Complex," it is only a small fraction of the whole, so I
have to say
To Be Continued!
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Afterword:
Man, if that was a "short" explanation of what happened to two characters
I never thought about before, will I really be able to finish this novel
in only 30 days?
Next, we'll return to the other group to see if any of them can do the
math and figure out that when they meet eight girls in a room full of
strange equipment after losing eight boys from their group, perhaps the
girls and boys are the same people. If we have time, we may even meet
Doc instead of merely hearing his voice.
Copyright 2012 by Lee Most
If you can't resist improving this story with extra characters or new
adventures for existing characters, you have my permission to post the
new version on FictionMania. To avoid confusion, add a letter to the
chapter #, like "Doc's Complex 02a", and make up a new title.
Editing/Reposting: If you want to post this or an edited amended version
of this story anywhere else, send me a message so I'll know where it is.
If you make a profit from my writing, the share I claim is owed to me is
modest: $0.01 per copy, or 1% of gross sales, or 10% of the profits,
whichever of the three amounts is largest.
Libbie
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