To Have And To Hold: Chapter One free porn video

TO HAVE AND TO HOLD By Trisha SUMMARY: Thomas has everything a man could want. But when he's caught stealing from his employer, he is sentenced to one year in the body of a "bimbo- doll," becoming a beautiful, sexy girl in (almost) every aspect. Will his marriage survive his punishment? Will he keep his identity intact? Or, like other bimbo-dolls, will he succumb completely to his new life? PREFACE I have two caveats to give before you read this story. First, although it uses the idea of science, the story makes no effort to be "realistic" about it. As science-fiction, in other words, it's much more science than fiction. Second, if you have read my previous stories, this might seem a departure from them as it depicts men transformed not into completely anatomical women but into "bimbo-dolls," who look exactly like gorgeous women except for one small but important difference. Thanks for reading it. My apologies for any plots, characters, or other ideas that I've stolen from other authors. My only response is that I have no problem if others decide to steal whatever original or semi- original ideas they find here. Let me know what think! CHAPTER ONE My last day working for for Mason and Crowley Law Firm was a great. At least, it was great until I was arrested. True, Blake and I had been siphoning off money from our law firm's accounts for over a year, something which gave me constant anxiety. But there was a certain thrill in our embezzlement, too, especially because we had been so good at it, grabbing the money from different accounts and always when the loss could be written off or explained. On top of that, I had just that morning landed a big client for the firm: one of those billionaire techies who had decided to divorce his second supermodel. So my life was perfect: a skyrocketing career, my own huge office on the 31st floor, a slutty secretary, and a beautiful wife who had dinner ready for me every night. And because of my embezzlements with Blake, I had more money than I could spend. I had even gone to the bio- modification clinic a couple of times to add some muscle to my arms and a some length to my cock. I was now up to nine inches, which my secretary, Janie, loved even more than my wife. "Bring these files down to the courthouse right away," I told Brad, the newbie lawyer just hired a few months before. I was "mentoring" Brad. Of course, mentoring at Mason and Crowley Law Firm just meant that he had to do whatever I told him--like file paperwork at the courthouse, even on his break. "Can it wait until after lunch, Mr. Nexly?" he asked. "I have an appointment in thirty minutes." "With a client?" I asked, my eyebrow raised. I already knew the answer, though. "With a girl," Brad said. "Sorry, no can do. Cancel the lunch date and get those files to the courthouse," I said, conscious that I was showing off to Janie who was sitting behind her desk watching us. "These files can't wait." Brad stared at me in disbelief. But I stared back. Finally, after a moment silence, he took the papers and huffed away, leaving just Janie and me in the waiting lobby of my office. I winked at her. She grinned back. "He's pretty mad, I think," she said. I grinned. "I landed Michael Bowers as a client this morning," I told her, not caring about whether Brad was mad or not. "I know," she said, giving me a seductive smile. "Should we celebrate?" Five minutes later, we were behind the locked doors of my office and Janie was on her knees giving me the blowjob of my life. She was amazing. Dark bangs, a tight leather dress, and an expert mouth. Best of all, she was discreet. She would never let my wife Lauren hear about us. She liked fucking me secretly and with no strings attached. "I love your new cock, Mr. Nexly," she said, taking it out of her mouth to admire it and then running it along her eyes and cheeks. "It's so big now. I mean, it was nice before, but this... this is..." "Expensive, that's what it was," I laughed. "Getting bio-modded isn't cheap. But it was worth it, wasn't it? "I could suck on it all day," she said, and I think she was half- serious. Privately, I wondered how much my new "scent" was working on her. Part of my bio-modification was getting supercharged pheromones that made women crazy with lust when they smelled them. My wife, Lauren, certainly seemed to be hornier than ever lately. Was Janie responding too? Or did they just like the nine inches? "I'd let you suck it all day if I could," I told Janie. "But you're way too sexy, and I don't think I'm going to last much longer." "That's okay," she said. "We have to finish before Brad gets back anyway, and I'll need time to clean up. I want your seed all over my face today, Mr. Nexly." "Really?" I said. I had been asking her to let me jizz on her face for weeks, but she always said it was too messy. Maybe those pheromones really were working. "I brought some extra clothes today, just in case you spoil these," she said, licking at the tip of my shaft. "Besides, isn't today special? Aren't we celebrating?" I nodded and she immediately took my cock between her lips again. "My god, you're good at that!" I whispered loudly as her head began bobbing up and down furiously. It didn't take me long to feel my orgasm swelling. "Oh fuck," I said. "Here it comes! Here it comes! Hereitcomeshereitcomes!" Janie waited expertly to the very last second, pulling out my cock just in time for it to splatter her entire face, hair to chin, with streams of pearly jizz. "Mmmmm," she murmured, licking some of it off of her lips and chin with her tongue and grinning proudly. "That feels good, Mr. Nexly." I threw back my head and closed my eyes in bliss. Had I not been leaning against the front of my desk, I think I would have fallen over. "Amazing," I said. Then, all at once, there was a rattling noise from across the room followed by a few quick thuds against the door. Janie and I both looked in shock as the door flew open. And I knew right away what was going to happen next. "Thomas Nexly," one of the police officers said after pausing to take in the surprising scene before him. "You are under arrest." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Things did not go well for me after that. Someone at Mason and Crowley had found out about the embezzlements, revealed our doctored account books, and less than four months later, we found we had little choice but to confess and make a plea bargain. They had us dead to rights. I had always thought that the worst Blake and I would get would be a couple of years of prison, probably one of the nicer ones. After all, we were white collar guys with no prior records who had done nothing violent or even malicious. We were just skimming off the top. Who wouldn't do that if they could? But the senior partners at Mason and Crowley thought differently, and they threw the proverbial book at us. Hell, they threw the whole library at us. Zero tolerance, they said. No one was ever going to try that sort of thing again. So not long after my plea bargain, I found myself in Judgement Hall standing naked before the captain of the guards and waiting to face my punishment. To my front was a bio-modifying "z-chamber," the source of my punishment. To my back was an audience of at least a hundred people who had come to watch. Some of them were friendly, like my wife Lauren, my fellow embezzler Blake, and Blake's wife Celia, all of whom were sitting in the front row. Some of the spectators, though, were not so friendly, like the senior partners of the firm. They sat only a few rows up. Friend or foe, however, everyone was curious to see what was about to happen. "Thomas Nexly," the captain of the guard bellowed loudly in a practiced, formal manner, "you have been convicted of felonious larceny, and for your crime you have been sentenced to one year of extreme feminization as a bimbo-doll. Do you have anything to say before stepping into the z-chamber?" Even now, even after plea bargaining to get this "light" sentence, I couldn't quite believe what was happening. But as I gazed out into the rows of people watching, I suddenly locked eyes with my wife and it all came home. What had I done? Why had I thrown everything away like that? "Do you have anything to say?" the captain repeated with a trace of irritation. Dropping my gaze from Lauren, I shook my head "no" at the guard and glanced at the z-chamber: an eight foot tall glass box with a door that opened toward me. I had entered a similar machine twice before for bio-modifications to make myself more manly and attractive. But going into those z-chambers had been much different from entering this one. Profoundly different. Those modifications had been voluntary. And private, attended by only a couple of technicians. This time was anything but voluntary. And it was all a show for the public. It was even being recorded. I could see myself on the large screen above the z-chamber: a big man, well-toned, completely naked and alone, and looking very different from the successful, hotshot lawyer I had been only a short time before. "Enter now," the captain ordered, gesturing toward the door to the z- chamber. Instinctively, I thought of running or fighting my way out, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Besides the captain, there were a half a dozen guards in the gigantic room. Even if I somehow got off the stage-like platform and raced through one of the exits before they caught me, there would be hundreds of more guards in the rest of the complex. There was no escape. Besides, resisting now would ruin all of the plea bargaining I had done to stop Lauren from being prosecuted as an accessory (for though she hadn't known the details, she knew I had been stealing). I was also able to keep my sentence to only a year rather than the five years the prosecutors (with the strong encouragement of the Mason and Crowley Firm) had initially asked for. If I tried anything funny now, I'd only make things worse for myself. So instead of running away, I slowly ascended the three steps that led into the z-chamber. I wasn't looking at the big screen or the crowd of faces anymore, neither Lauren's tragic frown nor my former bosses' glowing, smug smiles. No, I was looking directly at my own body, stripped naked and somehow more exposed than ever now that it was in the glass walls of the z-chamber. I looked at my hands and the muscles on my arms. I looked at my cock and thought of its nine inches. The door to the z-chamber closed. As I looked out, I could see the captain making an announcement, but I couldn't hear him anymore. The glass walls were soundproof. Then, much faster than I expected, the familiar blue-tinted mist began to fill the chamber. I had seen people bio-modded out many times on videos and occasionally in person. But it was a completely different experience from the inside of the chamber. When you were a spectator, you only saw the changes. But when you were the one being modified, you FELT them. Even being modded out twice before didn't prepare me for what was happening now. Those modifications before, after all, were really quite minor: a couple of more inches in height, a bit more muscle, a bit more added to my cock, and the invisible change of my pheromones. All of it amounted to a few moments of slight discomfort. This time, however, was different. As my body began to change, it wasn't quite painful, but it was much more than just uncomfortable. At first, I felt nothing except a chill, whether from the changes themselves or my own anxiety, I wasn't sure. Would I pass out? I didn't think so. Though the experience would seem to be something that would produce unconsciousness, it never did. Or at least I hadn't heard of it doing so. Then, just as I began to adapt to the chill I felt, the fibers of my body began to tighten, as though pressure was growing inside me, or that my skin was shrinking. Bringing my hands up to my face, I tried to examine them, but the mist was becoming too dense (I could only see clouds of blue) and I was getting the eerie and irrational sensation that though my hands had to be only inches from my face, they were miles away in the distance. It was like I was leaving my own body. I suppose that wasn't too far from the truth. My skin continued to tighten until it seemed to reach a breaking point, and I opened my mouth to express the pain I felt coming. But it never came. Instead, my body suddenly loosened and relaxed. There was whooshing sound, like an airlock, and then, in only a few seconds, the blue mist dissipated into thin, clear air. The door to the z-chamber opened and, without thinking, I stepped out. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew what had happened, but it was as though I wasn't allowing myself to think about it. I was doing only what I knew I was supposed to do: step out of the z-chamber and greet the world. Everything felt orchestrated. There was the predictable gasps of awe. Someone coughed. Someone else laughed. My head was still dizzy, but I felt the presence of mind to scan the crowd and look for familiar faces. My wife was frowning more than ever. Beside her sat Celia and Blake. Blake who was going into the z-chamber next, had a numb, horrified look on his face. My former bosses, I noticed, were still smiling smugly. The floor felt much closer than before, and I looked down to measure my balance. I must have been at least a foot shorter now, I realized. Then I studied my hands, which had become small and sleek. They had completely lost the powerful, slightly rugged look they had before. I barely had time to register this when my eyes caught sight of my new chest, on which now stuck out two gigantic breasts the size of soccer balls. On them, curling to the sides and between the cleavage hung long locks of red hair. I guess I'm redhead now, I thought. They hadn't told me they were going to do that. Coming out of my daze, I spun around and looked at the big screen. And there I was: no longer looking like a 35 year old man, but an 18 year old girl with great big tits and a small, round, very fuckable ass. My face was completely unrecognizable to the one I had before: smooth, shapely, and feminine, with big eyelashes and luscious, plump lips. There were women who would pay a fortune for it. I was getting it as a punishment. But the worst was yet to come, and I suddenly remembered it, looking down at what was left my nine inches. I almost wept. Though my dick was fully erect, there was hardly anything left of it. Was it even an inch? Why even bother? Why not just finish the job and make me completely a woman? But I knew the answer to that. That wouldn't be nearly as satisfying for them. Shamed-faced, I covered myself as best as I could with my slender new hands and arms. But it must have only added to the comical nature of the moment because several people erupted into laughter. I stared at the floor (which, I confirmed, was definitely closer than it was before I entered the chamber) and avoided looking into the eyes of the spectators. "Thomas Nexly," the captain of the guard announced, "your extreme feminization is complete. All that is left for you to become a bimbo- doll is the public deflowering. Please proceed to the platform." The captain gestured, not uncompassionately, to the twenty square foot platform of cushions to the left of the z-chamber, and though I knew what was coming--or thought I knew--I obeyed immediately, shuffling over to the soft, springy platform. "As part of your punishment, Thomas Nexly, you are to allow the plaintiff against you, in this case the law firm of Mason and Crowley, to complete your transformation into a bimbo-doll. Has the plaintiff appointed a representative?" "We have," someone announced from the crowd, one of the firm's attorneys. Who would it be? Probably one of seniors partners, I thought, maybe Clenshaw or perhaps even Quincy. Whoever it was, it would be awful. I didn't want to look up. But I couldn't help myself. I had to see who it would be that would "deflower" me. However, nothing prepared me for what I saw. It wasn't Clenshaw or Quincy or any of the top lawyers at the firm. It was Brad Van Helton, the young attorney I was mentoring and who was doing all of my legwork. "Brad?" I asked, then felt myself blush. I hadn't been ready to hear my new voice, which was now bimbo-high, the voice of a stereotypical empty- headed slut, and suited to match my new body. More laughter from the crowd. Brad himself seemed on the verge of laughing while he approached, as if he was in on some elaborate practical joke. Except this was no joke. He was wearing a long black robe, not unlike the one worn by the judge who had sentenced me. The difference was that Brad wasn't wearing anything underneath it. "Hello there," Brad said, dropping his robe to the floor. My body shivered with fear. Though I had been an inch or two taller than Brad before, he now towered over me like a giant. My eyes came up only to chest. However, I wasn't looking at his chest. I was looking at the thing between his legs pointed straight at me. It reminded me of a weapon, the way it swung to and fro, ready for a fight. But I must be honest. It wasn't just fear that made me shiver. It was excitement, too. Sexual excitement. Extreme feminization didn't just change your body; it changed the very chemical makeup in your brain, giving you thoughts and desires you never had before--even thoughts and desires you would have been incapable of having before. But knowing that the z-chamber had radically altered my sexual desires didn't change the fact that the big, bouncing cock on Brad was the most captivating thing I had ever seen. My mouth, which had been programmed to do so, was literally salivating at the thought of touching it or, better yet, it touching me. I had to use all of my willpower just to fight the sudden urge to drop to my knees and put it in my mouth. "Do you like what you see, Thomas?" Brad said. "Oh, I almost forgot. That's not your name anymore. For the next year at least, your name has been legally changed to Kitty Kummylips. Do you like that? I came up with it myself." I took a deep breath and tried to answer, but found I had nothing to say. My mind was too confused with conflicting feelings. I wanted to tell Brad to wipe that stupid smirk off his face and go to hell. But I also wanted to get at his gorgeous cock, which was only a foot or two away. My eyes were glued to it. "Tell me your name and I'll let you suck it, Kitty," Brad said, reading my mind. It must not have been difficult. I was only staring at one thing. "It's nine inches, just like yours used to be, I hear." "I'm Thomas Nex--" "No," Brad said, shaking his head. "Try again. Kitty Kummylips." I looked away from the cock for a moment and out to the crowd. Lauren was staring in dread. Blake, who would be undergoing the same feminization soon, was covering his face with his hands. Glancing to the corner, I happen to see my former secretary, Janie, and I remembered that last day in my office and how she had smiled proudly with my cum all over her face. Her expression now was unreadable. Perhaps she was too far away. "Say your name, Kitty," Brad said. "The sooner we do this, the sooner you get to go home and be with your beautiful wife." He turned to the crowd, winked, then looked back at me. "Come on, Kitty. Just say it and you can put those pretty, fat lips on my dick and earn that last name of yours." Moving a step forward, Brad gently took my hand and placed it on his gigantic hard-on, which felt even bigger than it looked, especially in my small hand. It felt so warm and inviting. Without thinking, I brought my other hand up and grabbed it with both. "I can't even wrap my fingers around it," I said in my bimbo voice, openly admiring it. The tip of it almost reached up to my neck. "They're too small." "Your hands don't have to wrap around it," Brad quipped. "Only that cute little mouth." More laughter emitted from the crowd. They were loving this. "Say it, Kitty. Say your name." "I am... Kitty... Kummylips," I said, getting more and more used to my girl-voice, "and I want to suck... your cock... sir." "Wonderful, Kitty," Brad said, and in one quick motion he grabbed me by the top of my head and pressed me down to my knees. Then, spreading his legs a little so that his dick was on the same level as my face, he gently shoved my mouth over the monster cock. My hands never left the shaft, and I eagerly pulled myself forward to get as much of the thing in my mouth as possible. Nothing else seemed to matter. I didn't care if my wife or my ex-secretary was watching. I didn't care if the whole thing was being filmed and watched by total strangers. I didn't even care that my own dick was half the size as my pinkie finger. I just wanted Brad's cock in my mouth. I was even glad somehow that it was Brad, the same young lawyer that I had treated arrogantly so many times just to impress Janie. It added to the humiliation of it, and somehow that added to the pleasure. I felt I would do anything to be his little slut. I stole a glance over at the giant screen. On it was the image of what looked like a redheaded, big-titted pornstar down on her knees choking on more cock than she could handle, but who was eager to please as much as she could. It wasn't very far from the truth. "It was me who turned you in, Kitty," Brad said. I was beginning to gag as his dick slid into the back of my throat, but I kept going. "And you know how they rewarded me? They gave me your job. Can you believe that? I even got that slutty secretary of yours. How do you like that?" I didn't answer. How could I? With my mouth stuffed with cock. But my reaction made it sufficiently clear how I felt. "She's playing with herself," Brad announced. "She must really like this." It was true. Though my right hand had remained on the thick shaft that was spearing my face, the other hand had creeped downward to play with my cock. Or what was left of my cock. Even in my small hands, it felt tiny and useless, but it was also rock hard, and I felt like I could explode into an orgasm at any moment. Except of course I couldn't, not without Brad's permission at least. Bimbo-dolls can't cum unless someone more dominant--usually the person fucking them--tells them that they can. And even when I did cum (assuming Brad would let me), I wouldn't "explode." Nothing came out of a bimbo-doll's dick, not even during orgasm. The most I could hope for was a satisfying climax. But as horny and desperate to cum as I was, that wasn't going to happen yet. Only Brad was going to have his fun for now. After a minute or two of grunting and groaning, he pulled his massive meatpole out and set it on my chin. Without his dick in my mouth, I could suddenly breathe fully again, and I was taking a great big breath when his balls unloaded their jizz onto my face and tits. I couldn't help myself. I shouted in surprised joy. The stuff was warm, sticky, and utterly delicious. "Oh god, let me cum, sir!" I begged, licking up his jizz hungrily as it kept splattering against me. I even scooped up some of it from my breasts to get it in my mouth. "Please let me cum!" "Oh, we're not done yet, Kitty," Brad said and, still holding me by my long red hair, he spun me around until I was on all-fours. "That was just the appetizer. Now it's time for the real thing." The next thing I knew, I felt the head of his hard-on nudging its way into my backside, which, as all bimbo-doll asses do, was already beginning to lubricate itself. "Call out my name, Kitty," he said as he slowly slid it in. The pleasure was excruciating. It felt like it was going to stab its way through me completely, and I held my breath until I felt his balls run up against the back of my tiny ones. He was all the way in. I inhaled sharply, my tiny feet curling in agonized ecstasy. "Please, Brad!" I cried. "I need to cum so badly." "I'm Mr. Van Helton to you, Kitty," he said, and I feel him grabbing big fistfulls of flesh from both of my butt cheeks. The feeling felt utterly natural, as though my ass was made to be gripped just like that. "Please, Mr. Van Helton. Fuck me hard. Make me cum!" "Are you my bimbo-doll, Kitty?" he asked pulling his cock back. "Yes!" I said as he rammed it forward. "Are you my sissy-bitch!" he asked, pulling it back out again. "YES! YES! I'm your sissy-bitch!" I cried as he rammed it in again. Back and forth we went, and with each thrust of his cock, I could feel his giant balls smack my itsy-bitty ones. I realized that all by themselves, those balls could cover what was left of my entire genitalia now. Somehow this thought just made me crazier with lust. He was blotting out something in my mind, obliterating pieces of my manhood and replacing it with Mr. Van Helton's incredible, amazing, mind-blowing, wonderful, magical, glorious cock! "Tell me I'm the best fuck you've ever had, Kitty. Tell me this is better than fucking your wife." "It really is better than anything else!" I cried, and it was true. I wasn't lying at all. "I love your cock inside me, Mr. Van Helton! I don't want to be a man any more. I don't need my wife or any woman! I want to your bimbo-doll forever and ever!" "Cum for me, Kitty Kummylips," I heard him grunt in my ear just as I felt a blast of hot seed spill out into my behind. Until this point I had felt as though I was constantly on the verge of cumming, but that some sort of wall was holding me back. Though the pressure on that wall kept mounting, it never budged a centimeter. But now, with just a few words, Brad had taken that wall away. The dam burst. My entire body shuddered as if miniscule balls of lightning were running through it. "Remember this every time you cum, Kitty," he said, gradually pumping less and less. "Remember the feeling of my cock shoved up your ass every time you fuck your wife or think that you're a man. You were my bitch, Kitty. And you screamed for more." As he said this, I looked up at the giant screen and saw myself for what I had become: a bimbo-doll, her face covered in the cum, and getting fucked like a dog by the man she despised. Then he pulled out of me completely, pushed me to the platform cushions, and stepped away without looking back. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I was still panting hard, my face to the floor, when I heard Lauren's voice above me. "Come on, baby," she said. "Let's go home." They didn't make us stay to see Blake's feminization, for which I was grateful (and perhaps he prefered that too). They were just calling his name as Lauren and I exited, escorted by two guards. I caught the face of Blake's wife, Celia, in the crowd as I left. She was looking at her husband, now standing up to walk to the z-chamber, just as I had. But her expression held less of the despair and horror that Lauren's had and instead was filled with disgust and bitterness. That made sense to me. Lauren was the type to be sad and sympathetic. Celia was the type to get angry. After we left the punishment room, we still had to sign a mountain of paperwork. Only then could we finally check out of Judgement Hall. The whole degrading process took more than hour, during which I had nothing on but a robe and Brad's dry semen. At last, though, we left and Lauren drove us home. Since we were both contemplating what it would be like to live as or with a bimbo-doll for a whole year, the car ride was mostly in silence. What was there to talk about anyway? That she had just seen her husband given the body of an 18 year old, bigtited girl with a teeny cock? Or that she had seen him buttfucked in front of several cameras and a crowd? Or that he was going to be a mostly helpless freak who constantly craved sexual satisfaction? But even as I reflected on all of this, I remembered how lucky I was. Had I been unmarried, my fate could have been even worse. Unless I had someone like Lauren to claim me, I would have been sent to a brothel and then the odds would have been heavily against me ever recovering. Nearly all bimbo-dolls sent to the brothels never returned to their former lives. A year of getting their brains fucked out simply erased their former selves. I got more than a taste of that when Brad had fucked me. Then again, the odds weren't terribly in my favor, either. As Lauren and I knew, even bimbo-dolls who had wives to take care of them often did not fully recover. Many chose never to be changed back, something I was only now beginning to understand. Whatever happened, I knew it would take a toll on our marriage. Things would never be the same between us again. But I was already starting to feel better. The frenzied lust I felt while Brad had been fucking me was more or less gone, and I could see things in a much clearer, more rational mindset. I was going to fight with everything I had, I told myself. Besides, I had Lauren, who was at least as strong and determined as I was. I believed in her. I had to. When we got to our house, she drew a hot bath for me and put on some calming music. "We'll get through this together, Thomas," she assured me, kissing me on the forehead. I felt comforted that she used my real name and not Kitty Kummylips. That name frightened me. It was as though every time someone used it, I lost a little more of myself. Despite our best efforts, though, things had already changed between Lauren and I. I could feel it. When we laid down in bed that night, neither of us made any move toward intimacy. Not a single peck on the cheek. Instead, we each lay on our respective half as though there was a barrier between us that we could not break through. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Neither of us brought up sex for several days, but that didn't mean I wasn't thinking about it. In fact, though I tried hard to keep my mind off of them, my sexual desires were getting stronger and stronger. But this was completely expected. Bimbo-dolls were designed to crave sex all of the time, and ignoring those cravings only made them worse. I knew this. Lauren knew this. We had researched and discussed the issue before I had been feminized. And yet we tried to ignore the facts for as long as we could. For Lauren's part, I don't think she felt up to sleeping with a bimbo- doll, and I didn't really blame her. She wasn't a lesbian, and I didn't look like anything other than a woman. A beautiful one, perhaps, but that didn't matter to her. In addition, my pheromones had been altered along with my body to suit my new condition. Now my body gave off a scent that made me less attractive as a man, and supposedly even encouraged people to dominate and humiliate me, giving them a sexual thrill when I submitted myself to them. To her credit, though, Lauren showed no signs of treating me like this. As for myself, my own thoughts were all over the place. I wanted sex more than ever, but the prospect of using my new body was humiliating. Besides, I was noticing my desires themselves were changing. For one, I was now attracted to men. There was no denying this, especially after my experience with Brad. Every bimbo-doll wants to be fucked by a man, preferably a big strong one. Every night, I dreamed of big gorgeous cocks coming at me from every angle. I dreamed of cramming them in my mouth or being pinned to the floor while one fucked my in the ass. Oftentimes, and I didn't like to admit this to myself, it was Brad's cock that I thought of. The dreams were so vivid I could feel his dick ramming into me and his big balls smothering my own, and I woke up several times a night panting in unsatisfied desire. It didn't help that my bimbo-doll body was now extraordinarily sensitive, and the slightest touch of fabric or flesh would send shivers through me. My new diet didn't help matters either. As a bimbo-doll, I could no longer eat or drink regular food. On the plus side, I no longer needed to use the bathroom. That function had been removed by the bio- modification. But on the minus side, the only source of nutrition that my body would accept now was human semen, administered orally or rectally. Lauren had semen delivered daily, which was expensive, but it had to be fresh, and neither of us liked the idea of me getting it the "natural" way. If I was to return to my old self after a year of being a bimbo- doll, I would need to avoid such encounters as much as possible. My one encounter with a man, Brad, had taught me that. The semen came in clear plastic pouches called "cum packets" that could be conveniently opened and consumed. I could survive comfortably on one pouch a day, but I usually ate two, swallowing down as much as I could first, then licking the inner lining of the pouch to get the rest. Lauren always left the room when I had my "meals." She didn't care for the sight, and I didn't blame her. It reminded her of all my new, unspoken desires. My feelings about my appearance had also changed. At first, I told myself I liked to wear dresses because they were more comfortable in my new body. But the excuse of comfort didn't fit for my increasing compulsion to wear makeup and heels. Neither did it explain my interest in slutty, revealing clothes. Did I like to dress up sexy now because of my innate bimbo-doll desires? Or was it because dressing up sexy just seemed appropriate for the the pretty redheaded girl I saw in the mirror? The irony, of course, is that I never left the house, so no one ever saw me except for Lauren. But she seemed to understand, and she bought me whatever I wanted. Since I was four inches shorter than her now and two cup-sizes bigger, I couldn't use any of her wardrobe anyway. Despite it all, though, I was still attracted to women too. Looking at Lauren's body, which was now always clothed around me, drove me crazy with lust. But somehow my feelings were different than they were when I was a man. I wanted less to fuck her and more to please her. I wanted to surrender to her, even let her fuck me. The worst part, though, was that no matter how horny I got, I couldn't reach orgasm. Not by myself, at least. Bimbo-dolls, as everyone knows, must get permission from their partner before they can cum. Lauren knew this, too, but she didn't offer to help me out. She wasn't trying to be mean about it. That wasn't her style. I think she was still just shellshocked by everything, and she needed time to adjust. Who could blame her? In the meantime, though, the sexual pressure in me was steadily rising. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ One morning, Lauren left me at the house to go grocery shopping. As I had done every other time she left me alone, I began watching porn as soon as I could. I started a video the very moment I saw her car leave the driveway. My tastes here too had changed. In the past, I had enjoyed watching lesbians or groups of three with two women and one man, especially of the "point-of-view" variety, which would take the perspective of the man. In the past I even liked the occasional video with bimbo-dolls. One particular line of such movies, called "Virgin Bimbo-Dolls Fucked," was especially popular. It was always the same, but highly entertaining, first filming a man being turned into bimbo-doll (usually out of punishment as I had been) and then watching "her" introduced to her new life. It usually ended with crowd-pleasing gangbang made up of former rivals and enemies. Good fun, right? Or so I thought until it happened to me. Would I be on one of those videos now? I tried not to think about it. Now that I was a bimbo-doll myself, I was much less interested in movies with lesbians, and I didn't like the point-of-view films nearly as much. I still liked threesomes, but now I liked them to have two men instead of two women, especially with the girl getting banged from both ends: one dick in her mouth and one in her ass or pussy. The movie I selected that particular morning was "Double Trouble 23," a one-hour compilation of girls getting fucked by two guys. No distracting storyline or plot. Just straight-out screwing, which suited both my desires and my short window of time. Masturbating had also changed for me in some radical ways. I still rubbed my cock, which was more sensitive (and harder) than ever, but it was so small now that even with my tiny hands I could only get two fingers on it at a time. Besides, other parts of my body were aching for attention. My mouth slavered whenever I was aroused, which was constantly now, and sticking my fingers in it or (as I had recently discovered) a cucumber gave me explosive thrills. My ass also cried out for me to attend to it. Now that it's only use was sexual, it began to self-lubricate in expectation and I crammed my fingers in it as I watched the video. It was in just such a position--a cucumber in my mouth and my pretty fingers playing with my pretty ass--that Lauren found me in when she came home. She hadn't tried to sneak up on me, but I was so mesmerized by the images on the screen (a petite girl about my size was getting her mouth stuffed alternately by a couple of cocks that must have reached to the bottom of her neck) that I hadn't heard the car coming in the driveway or even the door open. "Thomas!" was all she said, and I scrambled to turn off the TV. But it was too late. Her face was red with shame, though only for a moment. She soon composed herself, set down the bags of groceries in her hand, and sat down beside me. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly. It was the last thing I thought I'd hear from her. "I should have known. No, I really DID know. I just didn't want to face it yet. But that isn't fair of me. Your new body has new needs." Then, with only a fleeting look of doubt, she placed her hand on my little hard-on, still exposed and pointing straight up. "Here," she said. "Let me help you out." Getting on her knees in front of me, she put her mouth on it and began to suck. "Ohhhhh, gawwwd!" I cried out in pleasure. It was the first time anyone had touched me since Brad. But when I looked down, Lauren had a strange expression on her face. For one, her whole mouth fit easily over my cock and balls now--they just disappeared behind her lips--and I couldn't help but think how silly it looked. Perhaps this is what she was thinking. However, there was something else in her expression, and though she tried to hide it, I saw it immediately. It was a look of disgust. Were my new pheromones to blame? "We can still do this," she said, as much to herself as to me. "We HAVE to do this." Standing up, Lauren stripped off her blouse and skirt. When she was totally naked, she reclined back on the carpet in front of the couch. "Fuck me, Thomas," she said in the most seductive voice she could muster up. "I want you to fuck me now." More eager than ever, I crawled off the couch and on top of her, excitedly running my tiny dick against her leg as I approached. Looking at her waiting pussy, though, I had the sudden urge to eat it out. That was odd. I had always hating eating pussy, and Lauren had told me my cock was enough for her, especially after I got it lengthened. But now I had the impulse to lick her out. Why didn't I just want to fuck her? Maybe it was because she was so much bigger than I was now. Just hovering above her at that moment made me realize our size difference. She was much stronger and could easily overpower my little body, which was only bigger in the breasts. The image of her wrestling me to the carpet and pinning me down suddenly popped into my head. To my dismay, I realized the idea was turning me on. I threw the thought away and quickly stuck my dick inside of her. "Oh, Thomas!" she cried from underneath me. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" But as soon as I started to fuck her, my tiny dick fell out. My mechanics were all wrong, I saw. I was pulling out too far. It didn't help, of course, that my hips were wider now. I stuck it back in, then carefully pulled away again, but I pulled back too far again. "Hold on," I told her, aware of how silly I sounded in my super-girly, airhead voice. I knew I must have looked even more ridiculous: a young woman with a little cock trying desperately to fuck another woman. I stuck it in again. This time, however, I didn't even try to pull back. I just rubbed vigorously against her. "Oh, Thomas!" Lauren called out. "It's so...." But then she did something I wasn't expecting at all. She giggled and squirmed, tightening her face as though she were trying to hold back laughter. "I can't... help it!" she apologized, still squirming. "It's tickling me!" Feeling more and more hopeless, I renewed my efforts, rubbing harder than ever. But now her body spasmed in laughter and my tiny cock fell out once more. "Stop!" she called. "I can't! It's tickles too much! I can't!" She threw me off easily, and I rolled over on my back, staring up at the ceiling in humiliation and anger. "I'm sorry," she said in a calmer voice, though there was still a trace of a giggle in it. "I don't think that's going to work, though, Thomas." I could feel that my cheeks had turned a hot red and I refused to make eye contact. "This isn't easy for me," I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Please don't cry now, I told myself. The worst part, though, was that I felt more aroused than ever after she laughed at me. The shame was only making me hornier. "Why can't we..." but I stopped the question in mid-sentence and tried to rephrase it. "Will we never be able to... Won't I ever be able to put my...." Again I stopped. I couldn't say it out loud. Not with the voice of a girl. "I'm sorry," she repeated and she sounded truly regretful. Then, in an upbeat and consoling tone, she said, "I know what to do! You need someone to tell you to cum. You need me to give you permission. Right?" "Yes," I answered and the next moment I looked down. I was playing with myself again. "Yes, I need that more than anything right now, Lauren. Please!" I knew even as I said it how pathetic I sounded, which, in turn, only drove me more crazy with lust. "Here, let me," she said, and she reached over to my cock, grabbed it between her thumb and index finger (both of which were bigger than the cock itself) and began to jack me off. "Please keep doing that!" I cried, looking down at the dainty way she was masturbating me. It was unreal the way she couldn't fit more than those two little fingers on it. Her other three fingers, meanwhile, stuck out as though she were handling a teacup. "My god, it's so tiny," she said to herself. "Lauren!" "I'm sorry! That just slipped out," she said. "It's just that it used to be so big." "Lauren!" I sobbed. Despite my best efforts, tears were now flowing from my eyes. "Sorry! Sorry!" she cried. "Here, let's make it all better. I'll give you what you need right now. I want you to cum, darling," she said. "Cum for me!" A tidal wave of bliss overcame all at once. It was so sudden and intense, I thought for a moment I would blackout. One second I had been embarrassed and depressed, the next I was cumming like I never had before. Well, almost like I never had before. Even as I reached orgasm, I knew it wasn't quite as intense as it had been with Brad's powerful cock up my ass. A minute later, I was still panting as though I had been sprinting. "I guess that felt pretty good," Lauren said, and I noticed a strange tone in her voice now. She was studying me, trying to figure out what our new life would be like together. "Let me try to return the favor," I whispered. Without giving it a second thought, I rolled back to her and put my face between her legs. "Ohhhh," she cooed as my lips began to kiss her clit and my tongue began to explore. "That feels good, darling. Don't stop!" Then she did what she never did before: she grabbed me by the back of my head and greedily shoved my face into her pussy. "Don't stop, baby doll," she said. "Don't stop until I tell you to." I felt my little prick got harder than ever. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ After that, our life together went reasonably smoother. It certainly was a step up, at least, from the cold, awkward silence that was our lives before. That's not to say that things felt normal, though. I was still feeling as stuck as ever, never leaving the house nor taking any visitors. Even with Lauren, I wasn't the same. We didn't talk about certain things, such as my desire for men. We didn't kiss or show affection like a regular couple. I was still eating my cum packets twice a day while Lauren busied herself in another room. But we tried to make do. Not long after our sexual "breakthrough," Lauren got creative and brought home a sex toy for us to try, a "simu-dick." Simu-dicks were designed to attach to one's genitals and, from outside the skin, stimulate the nerves so that the dildo, which looked like a real cock, also felt like a real cock to whoever wore it. "Try it on," she told me. "There's a space there and you can fit it right over your own little thing," she explained. I winced at "little thing," but placed the device over my dick and pulled the straps around my waist to hold it on. I had heard of simu- dicks before, but never seen one closeup, and of course I had never tried one. To my surprise, it was very easy to operate. It held on perfectly and, more importantly, it really did work. As soon as it touched the skin of my crotch I could feel new sensations of pleasure as though it really was my own cock. I touched the tip of the dildo to test it. Sure enough, I could feel it. "This is perfect," I said, and we immediately headed to the bedroom to try it out. However, we found the simu-dick to be strangely unsatisfying. Lauren said she enjoyed being fucked by it (there was no giggling, at least), and I certainly enjoyed it. But for some reason it didn't feel as good as should have. I suppose it still didn't change the fact that I had the body of pretty girl. "I think I like our other way better," she told me. Though I wanted to disagree, I couldn't. The truth was that I liked it better when, instead of fucking her with the simu-dick, I simply ate her pussy out. I loved the sensation of burying my face between her legs and playing with myself with my round ass posed high in the air like an unabashed slut, and I would often fantasize about a man's cock (usually Brad's) entering me from behind as I did it. We could go for hours with me facefucking her pussy from one orgasm to the next. Every time she climaxed--or nearly every time, at least--she would command me to cum and my body would instantly respond, sending me into earth-shattering pleasures. Sometimes she would be so overwhelmed with her own climax that she would forget to tell me to cum too, but that didn't seem to matter very much. I didn't remind her, and she would remember the next time. She had also gotten into the habit of calling me "baby doll," especially when I was licking her out. I felt uneasy about this, but I also had to admit that it gave me a thrill, and every time she said it I would redouble my concentration on pleasing her. "This is the best sex I've ever had, baby doll," she told me offhandedly one afternoon. I was silent, so she looked over at me. "Oh, I didn't mean that way," she explained. "It was great before. It's just that now it's... I don't know how to explain it." I pouted out my bottom lip at this, conscious even as I did so how I looked, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to admit that I was enjoying the sex more than ever myself. So though things had not gone back to normal, we were able to pretend sometimes that they had. Lauren even went back to work, taking up a job at a marketing firm, and I got into the routine of keeping up the house. Though I had always detested housekeeping before, I found now that I not only liked it, but was good at it. To be honest, it gave me an erotic charge to mop the kitchen wearing only heels and the skimpy white lace dress Lauren had bought me. I also took up cooking, and made sure to have a complete dinner for Lauren every evening that she came home. It all felt quite natural, and she was very grateful. Whenever I cooked something she really liked, I could feel my little prick straining more than ever against the fabric of my cotton panties. I felt so proud I wanted to eat her pussy out right then and there. I couldn't seem to help myself. Knowing how much of a bimbo I was acting like made me as horny as watching a porno. Like so many other things about being a bimbo-doll, it was addictive. And so life went on. After three months, I almost felt like the one- year sentence wouldn't be so bad in the end. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Then, almost out of nowhere, Lauren invited a visitor. Well, really she invited TWO visitors, and she gave me very little warning in advance. "We're going to have some old friends over for dinner tonight, baby doll," she told me that morning before she went to work. "Friends?" I gulped. I was horrified. "Blake and Celia," she explained. Blake, who was my conspirator in the embezzlement scheme, had been my friend for years. But this would be the first time we would see each other since we had undergone our feminization. And since I had left Judgement Hall as soon as I had been feminized and deflowered, I had never actually seen him in his new, bimbo-doll form. "Do you think it's a good idea?" I asked. "Absolutely," Lauren reassured me. "I know you don't want to see anyone in your... condition... but you can't stay cooped up alone in the house for a whole year. You need some interaction. And who would be better than Blake and Celia, who are in the same predicament we are in?" My heart sank. Why invite people over? Wasn't my humiliation bad enough? "Have you been talking to her, then?" I asked. "Yes," she admitted as if confessing a sin, for she could see the dismay on my face. "We've been in touch since the trial. I talked with her last night and she agrees it's time to move forward with our lives." "How's Blake doing?" I asked her. "Has Celia told you?" "About as well as can be expected," she answered, and I realized from her tone that the two women had told each other everything about their bimbo-doll husbands. I blushed just thinking about all of the details Celia must have known about me already. "Dinner for four tonight, okay baby doll?" Lauren said. "Two regular dinners for Celia and I. And two of your own meals for Natasha and you." "Natasha?" "Yes, Natasha Naughtybottom," Lauren said, and now it was her turn to blush. "Blake is going by his legal name right now while he's... finishing out his punishment." "Why is he going by that name?" I asked, perplexed and for some reason a little afraid now. "Doesn't he know that's only going to make it harder for him to transition back to being a man next year?" Lauren shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't know the answer, but her face told me that she knew more than she was saying. "I have to leave for work," she said.