This choice: "The mistress also requested bodily changes." a dispassionate voice tells you. • Go Back...Chapter #6"The mistress also requested bodily changes." by: Mr. George  "The mistress also requested bodily changes." a dispassionate voice tells you.
A robotic arm extends out from the wall, the joints unfolding, as it heads towards you. The end of which is unmistakably a medical syringe.
"Wait... What!... Mistress... I don't have a Mistress..." you protest.
Raising a hand to fend away the syringe, you hope you aren't offering it a target.
The arm stops moving.
"Please provide proof of your autonomy." the voice asks.
"Like... like what?" Already you hate the girlish, tremble of your new voice.
Before the voice answers, you feel a icy, cold dread in the pit of your stomach, knowing what it's going to say.
"Such as your passport."
"I... er... I..."
You don't get any further, "Passport found, Alexis Carrigan, is the submissive of Mistress Camille DeGuerre."
Unbidden, an image forms on the wall, it looks like a live camera, and you see the wide smile of Mistress Camille, as she holds up two passports, her own, and yours. You've hardly arrived on the planet, and already you want to go home.
You see a large pink 'S' embossed onto the front of your passport.
It feels like it marks you as 'S' for sucker, not for submissive.
The -tssst-, brings your attention back closer to home. But it's already too late, as you see the arm fold itself away as it retreats back into the wall. Your body feels warm, fuzzy, and in a swirl of black and white speck, the room spins, as you slump to the floor.
Your nightmares are filled, with the most extreme, most erotic of women's bodies. Each time you wake, you find yourself once more waking to a curvaceous new form. A whimper escapes your lips, as you sit upright.
- - - - -
Sitting bolt upright, you give a scream, as you see how feminine your body is now. This time, you feel everything, and you try to wake up, just once more. This body has to be a twisted nightmare. Scrunching your eyes shut, you hope THIS body goes away, that you wake once more, and find yourself, in a ... in any other body. But even with your eyes squeezed tightly closed, the sensations from every other part of your body serve to tell you the truth.
Eventually, you have to open your eyes.
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The blonde bimbo reflecting back to you, must be fake... simply must be... It's a trick mirror... It's a joke...
As she copies your movements exactly you can't deny... that you are her, and she is you...
No... NO! It has to be a hologram...
You grope and slap your new body, needing the illusion to break down, for some... some pixels to show... some sign of holography...
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Each test, just confirms what you see. You cradle your ample bosom.
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A soft, moaning gasp bursts unbidden from your lips.
Oh God! Oh God! Those lips, you thank whatever God is up there, testing you that you're on Lesbos. Because those are cock-sucking lips. You give a little snorting inhale, as the idea of Mistress Camille with a strap-on intrudes.
With a cold dread, you turn to inspect the last of the damage. Your every hope shattered, you groan in despair at the perfection of your plump full rear.
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A whimpering, quivering cry escapes... It says everything without any coherent words.
Ahead of you, with a hiss a door slides open. indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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