The Bimbo Factory

Nothing is quite so terrifying as waking up on a bed you've never seen before, in a room you've never seen before, unable to see anything to explain where you are, how you got there, or why you are naked and tied spreadeagled. Nothing, that is, apart from the sight of a masked, hooded figure dressed in black and wielding a hypodermic syringe. My screams were muffled by the gag in my mouth, and my struggles achieved nothing but fresh pain from my leather-bound ankles and wrists.

The dark figure stood still, watching silently until I exhausted myself, then sat on the bed next to me, grabbed my left arm in a fierce grip to hold it still, and carefully pushed the needle into the muscle, pressing the plunger. My eyes blurred with tears as I watched him helplessly.

"This is the first of three injections," he said - definitely a 'he' by the pitch of his voice. "You're an attractive young woman, but what God has made, Man can improve on. I think you'll be very pleased with the results."

A cold, icy dread filled my stomach, in contrast to the spreading heat from the injection site. I shouted at him through the gag, but my mumbled words had no effect.

"I'm going to release you from your bonds," he said. "If you attempt to damage yourself in any way, that freedom will be taken from you. Behave, or else. Understand?"

I didn't want to give him anything. I didn't want to be at all complicit in this kidnapping and abuse - but I did desperately want to be free of the gag and cuffs. I nodded angrily.

And he did release me, but first he fished his erect cock from his trousers and pointed it at me. Ignoring my fresh and equally useless struggles, he calmly worked himself to a climax, his cum wetting my breasts and belly. With a finger he swirled his cum about my nipples. "One day soon you will beg for me to do this."

With a click, he undid the clasp at my left wrist, then stood, tidied himself away, and left the room, the heavy steel door closing behind him and leaving me alone in the room.

My prison cell. That was it. My last memory was of the court house. I'd been found guilty of getting an abortion in this cruel, dystopian society that controls women's bodies and denies us basic human rights. This punishment, whatever it was, just proved the point. My consent was irrelevant to them. "Fuck you!" I screamed as I finally tore the gag from my mouth. "Motherfuckers!" There was no answer, of course. Perhaps there was no one even listening. There were, however, two cameras covering the room.

The heat was spreading and my whole left arm felt swollen and sore. I tried to stand up, but fell dizzily onto the bed again, my head hurting like crazy. "Fuckers!" I yelled as I tried not to give in to tears. I had never in my life felt so alone and lost and powerless. His cum was on my breasts and its stink made me feel even more sick.

But no matter how bad it got, no matter what they did to me, no way would I let the fuckers break me. There was a sink in the cell and I crawled over to it, and cleaned myself as best I could.

*

For hours I was too sick to do anything but lie there cursing and shivering, and only the desperate need to pee forced me from the relative comfort of the bed. The cell was two metres by three, furnished only with the bed itself (a thin mattress on a solid wooden base), a small, steel loo shoved in the very corner, and a small steel hand basin. The steel walls were so well polished they acted as mirrors, and the ceiling was tiled with panel lights. There was no window, only a grill in the wall for ventilation.

There was no way to sit on the loo without exposing myself to the camera. Instead I faced into the corner and did it standing up. Fuck 'em. Crawling back into bed, I fell asleep, and it was pitch black when I awoke again. Or almost. Each camera had a green LED to indicate it was active and watching, even in the dark.

Given my lack of clothes and the absence of bed linen, I was grateful at least that the air was warm. The ventilator grill was above my bed, and by standing on the bed I was able to reach it easily. I could feel the screws at the corners. If I could get them out somehow, the ventilator shaft might even be big enough to squeeze into. Whether it went anywhere was a different matter, but that was a problem for later. I needed to escape before it was too late.

Abruptly dizzy, I curled up on the bed again, my heart pounding in my ears, whether because of anxiety over the situation or whatever the drug was doing to me. Exhausted but awake, I lay there aware of every faint noise and distant bang and murmur of conversation. None of it meant anything to me, however, and at some point I drifted off again.

*

I glowered at the reflection in the wall. The woman I saw there had bright red, pouting lips, and gravity-defying breasts with huge, thick nipples.

I had awoken to a bright ceiling once again, my stomach growling with hunger and my throat parched. A tray by my bed offered a feast for breakfast, everything from fresh fruit to sausages and scrambled egg. It was enough for a family of four and I devoured it in one sitting as if I hadn't eaten in days. I washed it down with a litre of full-fat milk.

Afterwards, feeling stuffed like a pig, I had slept again, waking to discover that it had all been taken away again, save for a steel jug of water, its flat handle giving me an idea for later.

For the first time since the injection, I didn't feel sick. I did, however, feel wrong. Physically wrong. My breasts were too large and heavy and my lips felt swollen, and there was itching everywhere that had me scratching. I was losing hair everywhere, especially my pubes and under my arms, but also everywhere else except the top of my head. My legs had never been smoother, and there wasn't a trace of a moustache.

They were turning me into a bimbo - and I hated the very idea of it.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" I yelled as the door opened and the masked man in black entered. At the sight of the syringe in his hand, I retreated into the corner of my cell. "You've no right to do this to me," I snarled.

"On the contrary," he said. "You're the one who has no rights. You lost them when you murdered an innocent. Now, give me your arm - or do I have to have you restrained?"

I would have told him to go to hell, but my one slender chance of escape depended on me not being restrained. "Fine," I muttered, and offered him my arm. I was very tempted to try and snatch the syringe from him and see how he liked being turned into a fucking bimbo, but it wasn't worth the risk. Once again my arm was stung and I was left alone with only my unwelcome reflection for company.

*

Once again I was hot and dizzy for hours, drifting in and out of consciousness, but I wasn't aware of any further physical changes. At some point I treated the watchers to a view of me on the loo, using it for Numbers One and Two. If they were sick enough perverts to get off on that, then lucky them. I was too tired to care. I just wanted it to be dark again so that I could work on getting out of this hell.

And then I woke up and it was finally dark again, and I felt a whole lot better than before. A little aroused, even, as I lay there teasing my thick, sensitive nipples.

Shaking my head to clear it, I drank the last of the water in the jug, and starting tugging and twisting on the handle until it tore free. As I had hoped, the edge of it made a usable screwdriver, and with some considerable effort, I managed at last to get three of the screws to unfasten. The fourth defied my efforts, but I was able to swing the grill out of the way and gain access to the vent. It was difficult to be sure in the dark, but the opening seemed large enough to squeeze through.

"Here goes," I whispered, and with a determined effort managed to lift myself up and into the duct. If anyone was watching on the camera at that moment, they would have been treated to a view of my ass and legs dangling in midair, before being swallowed up by the vent.

Even before that, I was faced with a decision. The duct ran left a short distance to a rotating fan with a light source beyond, and right into darkness, the air from that direction carrying the smells of rubber and something else. Tempting as the light was, the fan posed a significant problem, and I could hear voices from that direction too. Reluctantly I turned right and shuffled towards an uncertain fate.

I was never one to get claustrophobic, but crawling naked through a narrow duct while unable to see a thing and terrified of making a noise that would bring the guards to investigate had my heart racing. It certainly wasn't in the least erotic, and yet my nipples were hard and swollen, and by the constant brush of warm air between my necessarily parted thighs I could tell my smooth, newly hairless pussy was wet.

"Fuckers," I muttered, finally understanding what the second injection had done to me. It was an aphrodisiac. It wasn't enough for them to make me look like a bimbo, they wanted me horny too. They didn't just want to fuck me, they wanted me to want them to fuck me. Well, I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

Like a mole I burrowed on through the dark, until in front of me the duct sloped down. I couldn't see how far it went, but it didn't seem too steep, and I certainly wasn't ready to give up and retreat to my cell. Tentatively, I continued on, only to pause as the material beneath my hands became firm, dimpled rubber. The walls too, and the roof against my back. I couldn't think why anyone would make a duct out of rubber, but it helped muffle the noise of my passage, and actually improved my grip as I continued onward and downward.

At first, anyway, but as I progressed, the rubber became wet and slippery and despite a hasty attempt to retreat I slid down as if it were a slide in a playground park, a slide with dimples that brushed my too sensitive nipples. I cried out, as much in surprised pleasure as in pain and fear, but my cry was swallowed up by the rubber walls and impenetrable dark. I lay there panting as I recovered, knowing there was now no return, only an uncertain advance.

The chute had levelled off into another narrow channel, a thick coating of something slimy on the floor. The stink of rubber was stronger than ever, and the dimples protruded out further, rubbing against me as I struggled onwards and tried not to panic. It was as if I had crawled unwittingly into the throat of some serpentine monster and now its saliva was in my hair and coating my arms and legs and running down my inner thighs...

Or was that me, the product of my helpless arousal? My breasts hung heavy beneath me, my nipples hard and itching to be touched. The protuberances were becoming more pronounced with each shuffled step of progress. Some were soft and round, others firm and almost phallic, projecting out from above and below, from both sides, oozing slime almost like cum as they brushed against me.

I shivered with disgust at the thought, but it did nothing to damp my excitement. I couldn't see the slime I was crawling through, but it had the texture of cum, and perhaps the smell of it too, an undertone to the smell of rubber.

"Fuckers," I screamed. My brilliant plan to escape had just been part of their plan for me. Were they watching and laughing as I crawled and squirmed through an obstacle course of increasingly life-like silicone dildos, my body and hair slick with cum? Could they see the way my hands welcomed each new discovery, caressing the firm shaft for a brief moment before flinching away? Did they see my shiver of excitement each time a rubbery projection slipped momentarily between the cheeks of my ass?

As if in answer, the channel flooded with light and I blinked at its sudden violence. The truth of my predicament was revealed. The rubber walls were transparent silicone, the dildos a range of lurid colours and suggestive shapes, and the slimy fluid indeed the characteristic, syrupy milkiness of cum. Through the distorted veil of silicone I glimpsed a number of dark figures.

I struggled forwards again, hoping against hope to escape their clutches, but the walls tightened about me, locking me in place with a dozen hard dildos pressing variously against me in a cruel tease. The black-garbed men gathered round. Facing downwards as I was, I couldn't see them clearly, but I certainly felt their hands that penetrated my silicone binding.

Hands that groped my breasts and pinched my nipples as I moaned with unwanted pleasure. Hands that squeezed the cheeks of my ass and delved between my thighs. My wriggling attempts at evasion made me all too aware of the dildos pressing into my flesh - and then there were two more dildos to worry about, one thrusting into my traitorously wet pussy with ease, the other penetrating my virgin ass with slow determination. "No!" I screamed in denial, but the awful truth was - once the initial shock passed - that I enjoyed the intense sensation of being stretched and filled in that forbidden rear entrance.

And then the lights were off again, and the hands gone, leaving me bound and helpless in the dark, sandwiched in silicone and dressed in cum. And for all my determination not to give them what they wanted, like a horny bimbo I thrust desperately with my hips in an effort to deepen that double penetration, uncaring about whether I was still being watched.

*

I was unwrapped at long, weary last and given a cold, brutal shower, before being returned to my cell. The ventilator grill still hung on a single screw, the dark open vent beyond taunting me. I wondered what would happen if I tried again. Would it be a repeat of the same torment, or something far worse. As I lay restlessly on my bed, I was almost horny enough to consider the attempt.

With two little injections they had reduced me to a sex-crazed bimbo. I dreaded what the third might do.

My masked captor explained: "Three injections. The first improved your body. The second made you sexually available. The third will limit your attention span and keep you focussed on the only thing that should matter to you."

I understood all too well. Already I was easily distracted by my body's hunger. My hairless pussy was constantly wet, and my huge breasts and thick nipples constantly swollen. Whenever my mind wandered to other, important matters, like escaping this hell, my hands drifted inevitably to those centres of pleasure, scratching idly at an itch that only got worse as a result.

Already my mind was infected by this constant arousal. The memory of him coming over my breasts no longer disgusted me the way it had before, and I yearned to feel again the dildos that had penetrated me. I had to keep reminding myself that I didn't want to be a horny bimbo and that I hated everything they had done to me. With that third injection, my rebellious thoughts would soon be drowned by my need for sexual satisfaction.

"But you have to ask for it," he continued. "You will remain here until you do, and there are strict rules and punishments."

The chance of escape now looked impossibly remote, but anything was better than total surrender. Better prison than letting them win.

After a prison dinner, nothing compared to the feast before, I was hauled to my feet by two muscular guards, also masked and dressed in black. A hood was placed over my head and I was marched through unseen corridors, and then my wrists tied with chain above my head. I had no defence against the hands that mauled my breasts and fondled my ass, or the mouth that sucked on a nipple, or the fingers that plunged briefly into my pussy.

But then I was alone, and that was almost worse. Unable to touch myself, I was unable to do anything to alleviate my body's itching need for stimulation. My pussy was so wet I could feel my juices trickling down my inner thighs - and I had no idea whether anyone was there watching me squirm uselessly.

When at last I was touched, it was by hands that measured my chest and my waist and hips, then left, then returned to fasten something cold and hard and heavy about the former, and something cold, hard, heavy and very intrusive about the latter. I squirmed away in frantic denial but strong hands held me still as cold hard steel was inserted into my vagina, and secured in place.

It remained there as I was escorted back to my cell, no longer cold but impossible to ignore, the ridges rubbing my vaginal walls with each step.

Except it wasn't back to my cell. When the hood came off, I was in a dormitory with two rows of ten beds. "This one's yours," my escort said, and marched off.

I glared after him, but quickly turned my attention to the steel that encased me. Two huge domes of polished steel encased my breasts, held firmly and tightly in place by rubber-coated chains. I could neither remove the bra nor penetrate it with my fingers.

The steel guarding my pussy was equally efficient, denying me access to my own clit that throbbed needfully beneath the perforated shield.

"Motherfucker!" I screamed at the long-departed guard.

The only response was the laughter of my fellow prisoners. All women, all with bright red, pouting lips, all with steel thongs and huge, steel-encased breasts.

I was not alone. I was not the only victim of this hateful, patriarchal system. In a way, it was worse. It wasn't just one or two abusers doing this to me; it was an industry set up to manufacture compliant bimbo-sluts out of women who dared to defy the system.

Somewhere in the distance a bell tolled, and vibrations coursed through my vagina from the steel plug within. Unseen, impossible lips fastened around my nipples, sucking and releasing, sucking and releasing. I dropped unsteadily to my knees, whimpering with frustration as my hands grabbed at my breasts and pussy, but achieved nothing.

Around me, my fellow prisoners stood twitching or lay writhing as they too endured the same stimulation and denial.

Five minutes later it came to an abrupt end, and I burst into tears. As much as I had wanted the stimulation to stop, now that it had, I wanted desperately for it to continue.

*

Sitting on the bed next to mine was a young black woman with long, black, curling hair. She was taller than me and very pretty. Athletic too. About my age, I guessed.

"You get used to it," she said kindly, helping me to my feet.

I stared at her steel chastity belt, at the clear, viscous fluid leaking through the perforations, and understood that she too suffered from the same constant arousal. I didn't understand how anyone could get used to it. How could anyone get used to the most intimate parts of their bodies being controlled by faceless strangers. By men.

"I'm Sunni," she said with a smile.

"Lexi," I said - and frowned. I had never used that diminutive before. "Alexandra," I insisted slowly. "Sasha to my friends." Neither felt right now.

Sunni nodded. "We all get new names here. It's not just drugs they use on us. They mess with our heads too." Smiling brightly, she added, "Anyway, Lexi suits you."

Annoyingly, it felt right for her to call me that. I wanted to object, to fight the programming, but right then Sunni was my only friend in the world and I didn't want to argue over something even I wasn't convinced about.

"It's lunchtime, Lexi," she said. "Hungry?"

I nodded, and let her guide me through to the dining hall where a hundred steel-clad bimbos lined up, laughing and shouting at each other as they inched towards the kitchen.

The smell of hot food made me dizzy. I hadn't eaten a thing since before my crawl through the vent.

*

"Exercise time, Lexi."

I followed Sunni through the prison complex to a room with rows of exercise bikes. There were a dozen women pedalling enthusiastically, bizarrely wearing crash helmets with the visors down, and my eyes widened in shock as I registered the cause of their enthusiasm. Built into the bikes were mechanisms that drove variously coloured dildos up and down, penetrating the cyclists' exposed rear entrances.