Clara Wilson s Makeover
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The Writer's Makeover free porn video
THE WRITER'S MAKEOVER by Throne
"Please, you don't understand." The man strapped into the make-up chair
was short and slender. All he had on was panties and a ruffled band
around is chest that covered his nipples and the next few inches below
them. "I do write those stories but I never wanted to really.... to
actually..."
"Never you mind that, honey," said the woman who was looking over a
selection of cosmetics. She was Black and wore her hair natural, like an
Afro, but very short. Huge hoop earrings dangled almost to her bare
shoulders. She wore only a beauty parlor worker's apron, so that much of
her voluptuous figure was shown off. The bare sides of her large breasts
were so inviting. "Ms. Chantelle will take good care of you, MISTER
Throne."
"Just let me explain." Before he could say anything else she gave the
side of his head an unexpected slap. It wasn't hard enough to hurt him
but sufficiently shocking to make him open his mouth wide. That was when
she jammed a pear-shaped gag between his lips. It kept his jaws open
wide. She twisted something on its protruding section that made it
spread more, so that it couldn't be removed. There was an opening that
ran all the way through it, which allowed him to breath easily. She took
off his glasses and set them aside. "I know this is your fantasy, to be
the helpless prisoner of a Black BBW like me, who turns you all girly.
And the person who paid for me to fulfill your dream said you would act
like you didn't want it. That's just part of your dream scenario. I
understand."
When he shook his head she simply extended cushions on either side that
held it perfectly still. He continued to plead, but only with his eyes.
She told him, "The person who bought you this session was very generous.
They're a big fan of your writing. Isn't that nice? And they came up
with a transformation that's put together from parts of a lot of your
stories. Sounds like they favored the ones were guys get turned into
complete bimbos."
His eyes went wide. Oh no. Not that. But she was already working on
his eyebrows. Then came shadow and blush and a sprinkle of glitter on
his cheeks. After that Chantelle took a small hypodermic needle and
jabbed it into his lips, top and bottom, in various places. Soon the
chamber was empty and his lower face felt odd. She smiled and assured
him that sensation would pass. Then she went to work with lipstick.
After she was satisfied with everything, she placed a plastic mask over
his features. Soon it was heating up. She explained that the increased
temperature would make the special make-up penetrate his skin, where it
would become permanent. She also mentioned that his body hair would soon
be gone, thanks to something that had been in the drugged drink used to
get him here in the first place. With a laugh she said he wouldn't have
to worry about keeping himself smooth and pink, because the hair would
never grow back.
Why couldn't he get her to listen? He didn't want his skin to be satiny
smooth and without a single hair below his eyebrows. And he definitely
didn't desire to have his face decorated with unremovable cosmetics. But
when she took the mask off and held up a mirror, he saw that the latter
change had already taken place. On top of that, the injections had
caused his lips to swell up into a 'duck mouth'. Chantelle sprayed
something under his nose and within seconds he was dizzy and without
willpower. She retracted the pads alongside his head so that she could
use a special tool to pierce his ears. That was followed by inserting
the hooks of heavy chandelier earrings that hung down as far as the hoops
Chantelle wore. The straps were removed from his wrists and ankles. The
gag came out of his mouth.
"There you go, sweetness. You don't want to give me any trouble now, do
you?"
He heard himself say, the words coming slowly, "No, Ms. Chantelle."|
"And how about you start using a high soft voice, like the pretty girl
I'm turning you into."
This time when he spoke it was in a higher register, with a wispy quality
to it. "Of course, Ms. Chantelle."
"That spray is affecting your mind, darling. So everything I tell you to
do now, you'll keep on doing for always. So it's important that you
start to sound like a bimbo in other ways. Not smart at all. Interested
mainly in how you look, what you're wearing, and mindless crap like
reality TV shows. Right?"
"Well, I have seen that Cashardians program, where those rich women are
always fussing at each other. I used to check it just to see their hot
bodies but... but... They dress so sexy and have great shoes. OMG, and
their hair is always the best. I mean, I hope I can be half as perfect
as them."
"That's my girl. Plus, you have to move your hands around when you talk.
Roll your eyes. Lick your lips."
"Right? Because, like, I want people to notice me." He waved a hand
alongside his face, fluttered his eyelashes, and ran the tip of his
tongue over his ballooned lips. "It's special to have everybody look at
you because it's... special."
"Whoa. You are going to be SUCH a self-involved airhead. And the way
you were doing that eye thing, reminds me I've got to give you some long
dark eyelashes. I think two sets will be good. And they're this new
kind that you can wear for a month or six weeks, day and night. Isn't
that terrific?"
"That's... what you said... that word..."
"Terrific."
"Yes. Terrific."
"Now stand up, Throne. The best is yet to come."
When he got up she went over him with a small brush and his body hair
fell away, to lay on the floor at his feet. He looked down the length of
his body and murmured appreciatively. Then she raised his top to do the
same to his chest, and lowered his panties to mid thigh to brush away
what had once grown on his crotch. Next she produced a tray with several
needles on it, but much bigger ones than she had used on his lips.
"This stuff is the best," she pointed out. "It softens the skin and
makes it stretchy, gives you some delicious curves, and contains a
megadose of hormones so your new figure will eventually be for keeps."
"Oh, goodie." Throne clapped his hands and giggled. "Curves are good."
"They sure are." Chantelle gave him another shot of the hypnotic spray.
"They're good because guys love them. And you want guys to be interested
in you."
"I do?"
"Sure thing."
"But I'm... straight?"
"No, pretty thing. You are all about getting with men. You want them to
put their hands all over you. And you want to touch them right back."
"I... do. Yes."
"That's what bimbos do. And the best part is that those guys have cocks.
You are hooked on cock. Can't get enough of it. Looking at, getting
your hands on, and using your mouth to pleasure them."
She went on to detail what else cocks were good for. He wasn't enthused
at first but the combination of the drug he had inhaled and her carefully
chosen words soon had him obsessed with male appendages. He was
practically drooling over them. When she started a slide show on a
nearby computer screen he actually did drool a bit. With him in that
state she had no trouble making multiple injections with the large
needles, putting lots of the growth formula into his chest and bottom, as
well as lesser amounts in other locations. He was dimly aware of his
shape changing, gradually acquiring impressive curves that just kept
growing. She gave him a water bottle from which he greedily drank, his
body needing lots of liquids to make the initial changes. After that
would come several days of a high calorie, fat-rich diet so the hormones
would have something to work with as they replaced water weight with new
tissue. Before long Throne would have a body that any slutty unashamed
woman would be proud to flaunt.
"One more thing for right now," Chantelle informed him. "Because if you
want to be a bimbo, the last thing you need is a regular cock. Right?"
"That... makes... sense."
"So I'm going to do a final series of injections. They make your cock
and balls so small they won't be a problem when you're with guys. Mainly
you'll be with the guy who is sponsoring your reboot. He'll be picking
you up after everything is done, and taking you home."
"You mean I'll have just one man?" That high whispery voice expressed
disappointment.
"No, sugar. He told me he'll be sharing you with his buddies. And he
has a lot of those."
"Oh, yum."
"Now sit back down and spread your legs, girl, so I can do this one last
thing."
"To make me a real bimbo."
"Yeah. A half-sexed one. Heh."
The four shots had to be administered directly into his testicles, which
was extremely painful, but he was determined to achieve his goal -- what
he had been made to believe was his goal -- of being an ideal bimbo. He
endured it and then sat there and observed, mesmerized, as his hairless
genitals grew smaller and smaller and shrank to almost nothing.
"Jeez Louise," Chantelle exclaimed. "Your boy parts won't hardly show at
all once they're in a nice snug thong."
Throne said, "Thank you, Ms. Chantelle.
His chest was swelling impressively. There was a constant tingling in
his nipples. He asked her about that.
"How it works," she explained, "is that everything I've done, along with
some of the meds in the shots I gave down below, is stimulating the
pleasure centers of your brain." When he appeared uncomprehending, which
was no surprise with his dwindling bimbo intellect, she went on, "Girl,
you are going to be so horny all the time."
"Oh," he said with happy understanding. "So I can have lots of sex and
it will be fun."
"Not exactly. Since you now have a mini-dick and micro-balls, you can't
finish like before. Instead, every time you get heated up, instead of
getting relief at the end, fooling around will only make you want more.
It's like an endless feedback loop."
His brow creased. Botox later on would eliminate that. He said, "I
don't understand about a loop, but does it mean that I'll be better at
making guys smile?"
"Miss Throne, you will be the absolute best at that."
"Yay!"
"And we can't call you Throne anymore. I was thinking of changing it to
Teressa. How do you like that?"
"It's good. But will Throne be all gone?"
"Nope. That's my favorite part of all this. You'll still be Throne deep
down inside, after the drugs wear off. Kind of like you're looking out
through Teressa's eyes, feeling what she feels physically, also... um...
tasting what she tastes. In fact you'll even still be able to write.
Your style will be simpler, but your new owner plans to have you keep a
diary that will be published on-line. It will be presented as fiction
because, honesty, who would believe all this?"
"I would," Throne said brightly.
"I'm sure. Teressa has strawberry pudding for brains. Speaking of
which, you need to rest your mind so your new personality can put down
deep roots."
"That's not bad, is it?"
"It's good for you. Not so much for Throne. And when you wake up, your
new Master will be here to get you."
"I like that," he said drowsily. "A whole lot."
*********
When he regained consciousness and became fully aware, his boobs had
grown to immensity. His ass jutted out dramatically. Chantelle had him
walk around and everything jiggled and wobbled non-stop. He giggled and
flapped his hands with limp wrists. The woman who had wrought his
irreversible changes helped him into a slinky dress of shiny red
material. He asked about panties but she said he wouldn't need those.
He pouted. When she told him he would have a drawer full of them in his
new home, he was thrilled. Then he had to step into crimson shoes with
ankle straps and three inch heels. The straps were fastened with tiny
heart-shaped padlocks. In that footwear he could take only small mincing
steps and his hips assumed a rolling motion.
Chantelle fed him a plate of rich pastries, washed down with a thick,
calorie-laden beverage, all intended to help make his new shape
permanent. His overly puckered lips made eating and drinking awkward but
he didn't mind. It was worth any sacrifice to be the best bimbo he
could. When Chantelle told him his new Master would be arriving soon, he
was excited. It helped that, while he had been in a dreamy state as the
drugs and hormones finished their job, he had been further conditioned
with tapes and videos.
The man who had financed everything showed up. His name was Max. He was
tall, well dressed, and ruggedly handsome. His wristwatch and diamond
ring bespoke great wealth, but Teressa only understood that in a basic
way. She was distracted by his maleness and the bulge in the crotch of
his tailored slacks. This was going to be so fun.
At the same time, Throne was watching Max's arrival with anxiety. The
man had lust in his eyes. Throne still thought of himself as a straight
guy. But he was imprisoned in that overly feminine body and controlled
by an unsophisticated and pleasure-centered mind.
Teressa was ready to put all the bedroom lessons she had been
subliminally taught to good use. In short, she wanted a cock in her
mouth and then somewhere else. Maybe two at once.
Throne was dreading those inevitabilities. They were repugnant to him
but the choices about what his body did were no longer his. They
belonged to the ruling persona, which was Teressa's.
Already the two minds were thinking about the first of their diary
entries. And the many that would follow.
*********
(This little story was inspired by Art from Annabelle Brito of Forced
Feminization Illustration Art
(forcedfeminizationillustrationart.blogspot.com). She is doing a picture
of me in a similar situation to what's described here and plans to post
it on her page. I have expanded on what that picture shows. Hope you
will visit there and enjoy her excellent selection of content.)
Myra
- 03.06.2021
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