Transformations: Dr. De-Mona Ch. 1
As always, comments are welcome.
——————————————
Dr. Demona stood in her metal floored lab. The floor was a metal grate, designed to convey all matter of bodily fluids to the sewer. The ceiling was cavernous and dark, tall enough to accommodate the tall transformation tubes filled with their pink or blue liquids.
Men and women and people between the two floated in their tubes behind her, their minds and bodies transforming.
The blonde on the operating table in front of her was tall with a fetish model's curves. Her breasts were huge and firm, standing proud in defiance of gravity.
They were fake, of course. Obviously so, designed to attract attention whether bare or squeezed into a too tight blouse. She would turn heads.
The Church preferred large breasts, presumably because it was Morpheus's preference.
She ran her black nail down the girl's tight abs.
Demona was the creator, the artist in flesh and blood and bone.
The White Witches and SlutzNet molded their minds, but it was Demona and the other doctors who sculpted their bodies.
This woman had been a forty-something housewife with brown hair going to gray and a body slowly collapsing under the relentless crush of gravity. Pre-cancerous cells in both breasts, one leg a full centimeter shorter than the other. Her liver was suffering under the assault of early alcoholism and a fondness for sugar and anti-depressants.
All that was gone now.
From those raw materials was a curvy twenty-one-year-old with DDD breasts, a waist made for corsets, and an ass sculpted from marble. Cascading blonde hair with a hint of curl and deep blue eyes that would reduce her lovers to quivering jelly.
There would be no cancer, no liver failure, no depression requiring alcohol or other chemical remedy.
She would live forever and never age.
But, the woman she had been, the family she had been a part of, all of that was in the past. That personality was still there, but it was now a subroutine running in the background, blissfully sleeping while the Whore Caste construct ran the show.
Cruelty and compassion
, Demona thought.
Lust and horror
.
That was the dual forces that warred inside Demona. The drive to experiment, to tweak a person's physiology, and the drive to be the hero, to stop what she was doing.
To undo it.
She took a deep breath. "Someday. Someday I'll fix this. I'll fix all of it."
Demona put her hands on the girl's long legs. "Open, please."
The blonde stared up at the ceiling, her expression blank.
She spread her legs obediently.
Her perfect pink pussy was wet, her juices glistening under the lab light.
The clit was thick and protruding - dozens of times more sensitive than a normal woman's.
Demona touched it lightly and the blonde moaned, arching her back off the table.
Lubrication gushed out as the pussy opened and throbbed in orgasm.
"Poor thing," Demona whispered.
The woman's nipples stood up rock hard, and her red lips parted.
Demona slid her finger into the quivering pussy gently. The woman was hot and tight. Demona touched her g-spot gently and was rewarded with another orgasm, this one resulting in a squirt.
Demona smiled. "In a little while, your body will adjust. It's trying to get used to the powerful sensations. Just enjoy them."
The blonde was hyperventilating.
"Shh, relax," Demona whispered. She pushed deeper - the girl was no less tight deeper in. Her muscles clamped down and squeezed Demona's finger, moving in a rhythmic motion that tried to pull her finger deeper.
Demona laughed. "You're going to be popular."
She reached down and picked up a thick black dildo. It was sixteen inches long and too thick to fit her hand around completely. "Believe it or not? This
will
fit inside you. And, it will completely satisfy that hungry little hole. The odds are, you won't see one this big for quite a while - most transformed you encounter are thinner and three inches shorter than this. This is a Whoremaster cock. I'll introduce you to a real one a little later, but I'll go ahead and show you how a real man feels, okay?"
The girl looked at her with the sleepy, blank expression.
Demona put the woman's legs on her shoulders as she knelt on the table between the blonde's thighs.
Demona put the base of the dildo against her own crotch and then gently stroked the woman's clit with the rubber head.
The woman began to moan, straining her neck to look at the huge phallus now poised at her tight pussy.
"Relax. Don't tense up."
Demona nudged forward and the thick head pressed into the woman.
The blonde threw her head back and screamed as four inches of thick rubber intruded into her hole. She came hard, her squirt erupting around the dildo and spattering on the table.
This time, her nipples joined in, sending twin jets of Ambrosia into the air.
"That's right. Good girl." Demona lunged forward and buried the thick dildo in the blonde's cunt.
***
"Hi, cutie," Rita the Bimbot said as Courtney Fuchs stepped into Stallion's Adult Video's entry foyer.
Courtney smiled. "Hi, yourself, gorgeous."
The bright sun through the open door glinted in Courtney's long, blonde hair.
Rita winked her robotic left eye.
The inner door buzzed and unlocked.
"She's downstairs on Level 10," Rita said with a smile.
"Thanks!" She practically skipped into the porn store.
Ray whistled from behind the register.
She gave him a hair toss and a smile.
"Oh, you sure you don't swing both ways?" Ray kidded.
"Keep that sausage behind the counter, big guy. I got a date with a doctor."
"Heartbreaker - you're a complete heartbreaker," Ray groaned.
Courtney giggled and flipped him off with her back turned.
Ray laughed in his deep bass voice.
The banter was fun. Ray, Rita, and Sugar Tits all kidded her, but she also knew they were thrilled she and Demona were in love.
Even though Demona was technically bound to Ray and the others, and in fact loved them, they were happy she was
in love
with Courtney.
Sooner or later, she would end up in bed with all of them, but for now they applied no pressure at all.
That was the magic of Whore Caste: they were loving and accepting with infinite patience. Polyamory, if it came, would be cherished but would never be a prison.
And, they loved her.
Which was something that made her feel good.
She stepped through a door on the back marked PRIVATE, and into another world.
The garish neon of the sex store gave way to a clinically clean and stark white hallway. At the end of the hall was an elevator.
She pressed the down button.
Machinery groaned and cables whined as the elevator rose from deep in the earth.
The elevator doors opened on a sterile looking elevator lit with bright LEDs.
She stepped in and reached for the panel.
Ten buttons.
The ninth button had a piece of duct tape over it, and beside that the word NO! written in red magic marker.
She reached below it and pressed ten.
The elevator dropped quickly with instrumental music playing softly through overhead speakers.
***
In the level ten lab, Demona stood over the now satiated blonde who sat in a desk chair.
"Okay, honey, what's your name?" Dr. Demona asked.
"Candace Malloy," the girl said. Her big breasts stuffed into a black athletic bra, sculpted hips outlined in skintight black leggings. Her eyes were baby blue, lips full - the face of an angel with a body laboratory-built for sin.
"How old are you?" Demona asked.
"Twenty-one."
"Married?"
Candace laughed. "No!"
