This disclaimer must be read before reading further:


The following story is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors or the close-minded.


Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional character in these stories.  Any characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional.  None of the following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, (except where specifically noted in the ‘Continuity and Background’ and ‘Literary Notes’ sections) is purely coincidental.


This story is copyrighted (March 2005) by the author with permission granted to make copies only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.


The author cannot be responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its contents.


Due to the extreme nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft copy.


Thank you and enjoy the following quality presentation.




Continuity and Background:  This story takes place within the charming dominion of Cherish Valley, if you have never visited here before it is a place where girls are reared to respect the lordship of men and the dominant fashion of the ladies in town is preened and pink.  The original story written by “The Mayor” is titled ‘Pretty Wives in Pink’ and is modeled after the town of Stepford  (The novel “The Stepford Wives” is ubiquitous enough, but you may find the graphic novel “Stepford Bound” (by Simon Benson) useful for further reference.)

My influences come from the writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well as fiction from and thundrshark.  The prominent themes are humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips, forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term suffering and servitude.




About the Author:  My hobbies include collecting, examining, and designing.  I sometimes come across inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the “Committee for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment” (the CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.


Authorship Disclosure:  The following material originates from personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well as from public town events and records.  I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these tales in my free time.  While this is intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been taken to help increase readership interest.


Also, as I am extremely busy not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation.  If you are an accredited researcher with a genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive information.  In order to request this more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your particular interest lies) to 




The following presentation by the CPHD was made possible by a generous research grant from the ‘Public Female Reeducation Committee,’ the valuable cooperation and contributions of the Spencer Research Group, and through the continued support and donations from readers like you.





The Doctor is In

(Spencer’s New Drug)




She wriggled on the operating table, her drugged body responding sluggishly to the sights and stimuli around her.  Her eyes widened in horror as Doctor Herbert Spencer, M.D., walked into her field of vision, holding a large hypodermic needle.  He held it up to the light, checking the label, and then lightly squeezed the plunger, testing it.


A clear liquid squirted from the sharp tip and he nodded his approval at the whole thing.  He then swabbed the large fatty area of the helpless girl’s left bosom, locating a vein in it, before deftly inserted the needle.  As he slowly pressed the plunger down, savoring the look in her eyes, he watched as they filled with tears and fear.




The contents of the syringe safely tucked away into the girl’s bosom (where they would enter her bloodstream and then continue to course throughout the rest of her body), Spencer withdrew the needle and began applying a bandage.  Afterwards, he tossed the needle into the trash and then made a checkmark on the patient’s sheet.


He then started the general anesthesia to get the girl into a more compliant mood while he waited for the fluid to do its job; it was a chemical agent agent used for analysis purposes.  It would provide data (in conjunction with the diagnostic equipment he was now hooking up to her) regarding her body’s specific compositional vagaries and structural integrity.


Spencer had already done the initial Tagging for his new arrival.  Streuth had brought it in this morning joking that she was still “Fresh from the Farm,” meaning that she had been an especially naïve and easy package to acquire, was unmarked by any piercings, tattoos or any other form of body modification, and also, as likely evidenced by Streuth’s mocking tone, she had probably been plucked from a more rural college campus.



Chapter 1, Tagging


Proper Processing Protocol resulting in successful Biological Documentation” as from the “Cherish Statute on the Induction of New Females”, or ‘Tagging’, as it is commonly referred to, is the procedure which every new female that arrives in Cherish is forced to undergo.  It is a long and ritualistic operation ( which Dr. Spencer usually does exactingly, and takes considerable pleasure in) which concerns the insertion of tiny identification implants deep into a ‘virgin’ woman’s mammories, anus, throat, and uterus, exposing her most private parts and requiring them to be photographed for use in the legal documentation surrounding her arrival (her walking papers.)


Because Tagging results in the production of these important legal documents, at least two witnesses must be in physical attendance throughout the entire proceedings in addition to the proud new owner and the attending physician.


The procedure is, of course, also videotaped for clinical and bureaucratic review to ensure that the proper methodology is followed.  These tapes become public record and help to further document the ownership and individual identification (which can become difficult to do visually after many modifications are performed on the body) of females in Cherish.




Each girl is placed under sedation on the operating table and then stripped.  The tiny electronic chips she is about to be tagged with are taken out of their packages (each one labeled for which cavity it is to go into (throat, left mammory, right mammory, utures or anus) and then viewed by each of the signatories under the microscope, their numbers marked their tracking utility tested (in the rare case that a girl were to escape these could be used to locate her.  It also ensured that a man knew where his property was at all times, and if he took a wife he could be sure that she would not leave the house without his knowing about it.)


While this is happening and the new owner is placing his digital signature on each of the tiny implants aids are busy cleaning and prepping the body for the invasive surgery, making sure to put the feet into stirrups, to tie the hands down, and to secure the rest of the body with fastenings.  (The shades are opened to allow visitors and men and boys to watch and to help demystify and educate the public about the inner workings of the female sex.)


Next, the procedure is finally ready to begin:  The owner is extended the honor of choosing whether to bring the girl out of sedation for the relatively painless but extremely uncomfortable and humiliating procedure that follows.  Before each step the Doctor turns to the camera and states clearly for the record the nature of the actions he is about to perform:


First, the vagina is held open and then photographed, thoroughly documenting labial size and perkiness.  Next a probe is inserted to take pictures of the inside of the woman’s uterus and birth canal and to record moisture ratings and sexual history before being removed.  This is then followed by a rigorous Doctor’s examination to record values for dilation, size, depth, elasticity and firmness of the orifice.  At this point the new owner’s signature has been finished being etched into the Identification Implants, and one is be inserted deep, deep and permanently, into the woman’s uterus.


Secondly, the young girl’s anus is spread open and given a thorough examination, before having a similarly signed implant inserted deep into her rectum.  High resolution close-ups are taken of her stretched anal cavity, making sure to document every angle before a small probing camera is inserted down the puckered, slurping maw to take internal shots. 

The public records department at Town Hall divides the video records of “Initial Births” into the two major categories of cold or hot, depending on whether the girl is awake or unconscious.


In the event of a ‘cold’ Tagging the next step is to open the mouth and commence the operation in her oral orifice; it is automated, the probe lowers into her throat and goes about its work while the men socialize and remark about the beauty before them.  This is usually the case for women who are meant to be kept out of the public’s eye and for whom a mouth will not be an important concern, it can be controlled with bondage or surgery with little regard to its aesthetic.


In the event of a ‘hot’ operation, on the other hand, which is more typical when a woman is meant as a trophy or ‘social’ wife for whom the ‘natural state’ of its use should be documented, the woman is forced to open her mouth as she struggles and screams.  A wriggling probe is then forced down into mouth which the Doctor personally controls, guiding it deeper into her and plumbing the depths of her throat while the men watch and goad her on in her futile struggles to resist.  The reactions of the woman (her loud screams and obscenities, shouts and spittling struggles) can be recorded for study by growing boys in Cherish who wish to know why women are kept restrained in their oral capacities at all times, and just how it important it is to keep them quiet and under control.  The probe then records the jaw strength of the woman as well when she tries to clamp down on the hard tail of the probe and attempts to bite through it as it slithers down further into her mouth and then, gagging, into her throat.


This data can be commented on in polite society by men and is used to make conversation about wives when men are introducing them for the first time (“This is Joyfuck, isn’t she a beauty, I’ve got that maw of hers packed now but let me tell you, her Birth Certificate has her at a 42 on the ‘oral resistance’ scale!  Boy howdy I didn’t let that bitch keep her teeth long let me tell you, heh.” )  The men would then continue to talk about their trophies, who literally are collared so that they ‘hang on the men’s shoulders’ and are forced to walk in little bunny hops behind while they are ignored, except for the occasional poke, prod, or conversational aside made lewdly about their bodies.




The other vital statistics of the mouth and throat are recorded as well in either case.  The probe can then be used to modify or destroy the vocal cords.  Many preset replacements are popular among Cherish men, and the set can of course be modified later as fashion dictates.  The most popular choices usually are ‘baby girl’ (goo’s gaa’s and burbles), ‘lower throat sounds only’ (gurgles, inner throat screams, and gurks) or ‘Golden’ (complete silence.)


Lastly, before being given her walking papers, the woman’s mammories are measured, prodded, studied, documented, and then sharply implanted with Identification so that her chest is thoroughly violated by the penetrating needle-thin instrument (as well as the lewd stares and appraisals of the men who watch sadistically around her.)


The girl’s ‘Birth Dimensions’ are detailed in her owner’s papers.  A loving owner could later turn to a fellow Cherish gentlemen while relaxing in a gentleman’s club or at a smoke parlor and take out his wallet to show his neighbor his girl’s ‘baby pictures,’ (those wonderful close-ups of her charming little inside parts) while pointing out points of interest in her biology, such as her throat width, cup size, or vaginal dilation, much to their combined amusement.


Men would often ‘duel cards’ by making stacks of their chattels’ certificates and flipping the top one over, proclaiming perhaps:  “Five and one/eight quarters!”  The first competition was one of vaginal depth, and the other man would have to then respond by flipping his top card over and, if he did not have a larger value, resort to trumping by proclaiming anal width”  “3 and 3/quarters diameter!” he might shout back.


The final, and much valued trump, was the measure of the female’s throat diameter, of which, only a very few coveted 2”+ cards exist in town, there being very few females with that angelic “Natural Born Swallower” capacity when they are first introduced to Cherish.




In the rare event that a ‘tagged’ girl were to somehow escape and flee Cherish Valley the implants also served as a means of tracking her down.

{  Editor’s note:  Several educational descriptions of the hunting down of female escapees have been cut from this spot to be included in the broader topic “The Reacquisition and Reeducation of Insubordinate Women” later.  (Individuals may request this side material from the author if they wish to peruse it  ahead of print schedule.)  [] }



Chapter 2, Dispensing with Legal Matters


As this girl belonged to Dr. Spencer, he had ‘Tagged’ her with particular relish just a few hours earlier.  Also used for identification purposes was a patient’s medical chart, but Dr. Spencer, in his clinical way, used a different set of criteria to refer to his subjects (since he had so many.)  While another man about Cherish who might bring his wife or missy in to Spencer’s clinic might fill out ‘Stephanie’ or ‘Patricia’ Dr. Spencer (since he had so many to keep track of, settled on the far more utilitarian system of  naming by relying on prominent visual statistics:  Cup size first, followed by hair color.


The girl on the table for example, (Molly in her previous life) was labeled:  #22B-Blo-0182.  This indicated that she was an insignificant 22B cup, with Blonde hair and was his 182nd acquisition to date.  Most girls to go through his clinic for processing do not receive Dr. Spencer’s personal touch, (a lot of this work is done by aids, nurses, or automated processes) which meant that this girl was destined for more extreme modifications than the usual ones made about town (the most common requests being for breast and butt implants.)




The dazed girl swooned as the sedative took affect, looking up at the Doctor lazily, the drugs in her system making her mind fluffy and her body woozy again.  Noting that she was finally awake the good doctor held a form out to her which said ‘CONSENT’ on it in big bold black letters.  Not too cognizant under the affects of the anesthesia she dumbly swallowed some of the saliva in her mouth (while more dripped down her lip) and gaped up at him, her oral cavity falling open lewdly.


The doctor inhaled sharply at the inviting sight but didn’t have time for her tempting little flirting, he instead tapped his foot and gave her a stern look.  He was impatient and he couldn’t begin the real procedures until certain ‘ethical standards’ were met.  He waved the form in front of her violently.


“Uh-durh?”  She responded prettily, her eyes glazing over, and a bit of clear snot beginning to drip out of her nose.  Spencer smiled, his appetite for dumb little girls beginning to melt his reliance on formality.  The lack of clear refusal and the lolling of her tongue could surely count as a verbal agreement in Cherish’s ‘Minor Claims’ court (which dealt with all claims of female rights violations)


All he needed now was a ‘signature’ from the young girl, which she appeared to be eager to supply gauging from the amount of oozing fluids now leaking from her vacant, unthinking head. . .




Choosing the wet and sticky snot bubbling out of her cute little nose as his target, the Doctor nodded kindly at the pretty young girl in front of him, as though thanking her for her agreeal.  He then quickly explained the fine print of the contract she was entering into, giving her a brief lecture on how the surrendering of Powers of Attorney should not be entered into lightly.  He moved his hand behind her head as he talked, helping it up into position, eyeing the snot drooling from her right nostril and selecting it specifically as the best collection point.


Still dizzy and out of it the young woman tried to focus her eyes, her mouth swallowing and her eyelids winking open and closed slowly.  A line of snot dripped down onto the large YES checkbox on the form the doctor was holding out to her while he cooed that she was a ‘good girl.’  In her delirious state the girl managed a slow smile in response.  Her ‘signature’ acquired, the good Dr. abruptly dropped his specimen’s head down onto the pillow and turned around to face his medical instruments, hanging the clipboard back on the wall to dry.



Chapter 3, Choosing a Design


The Doctor clenched and unclenched his hands eagerly at the considerable amount of equipment arrayed before him.  His gaze swung sharply to the right to ponder the sentence on the slogan he had written for his clinic.


“What do you want to build today?”  It said, aping Microsoft’s slogan.  Grinning, the Doctor flipped through a book of designs that Streuth had developed for him (worked out in trade) to fill needs he had for projects he was working on.




While he waited for the analyzing agent to finish its job, Spencer pored over some of the aesthetic decisions he needed to make as well.  These, however, he smiled as his cock rustled in his trousers, were optional and mostly a matter of personal taste.


He flipped open a book of B+W illustrations (penned by a local artist) showcasing lovelies in tight rubber and latex.  The shine on the glossy surfaces described therein were eloquently displayed through the penmanship of their illustrator.  (The pure white of the space portraying a reflection on the young maiden’s pseudo skin.)  Thinking hard about the different models arrayed before him he put a post-it note next to one and wrote ‘these legs’ and then by another ‘these lips.’  He continued to build his project up, every once in awhile glancing over his shoulder to check on his patient’s analysis.




The structural blueprint Spencer selected to use was the design for the ‘Test Subject for Drug #BMB0’ the latest drug research he had conducted.  He was hoping to take it to market soon since this one seemed the most profitable.


Sitting down at his workstation he began entering the girl’s data into Streuth’s program, so that it could tailor the blueprint to this specific canvas. 


The two collaborators considered themselves some of the foremost in their field in the exclusive cadre of Female Engineering




In fact this hapless young maiden would be used to help usher in a way of dealing with some of those most common procedures that normally would use up surgery hours, but, Spencer hoped, could be performed instead by the miracles of modern day pharmaceuticals.  He had a drug ready to test, all he needed was the prepared subject.

Chapter 4, “Make sure to consult your primary care physician before starting on any new medications”


Molly was trying to open her eyes, they felt droopy and tired.  Her nose and mouth were inside of a corrugated latex rebreather and her head felt like it was distant.  Too dreamy to panic at the unfamiliar smells coming up the tube or the weird feel on her skin she sat and breathed deeply, getting a small amount of oxygen into her body with a long, time-consuming breath and then exhaling back down into the tube.


Her eyes beginning to adjust to the bright light, she opened them, squinting at the whiteness of the room.  She was in a 20’x20’ room with an 8’ ceiling.  She couldn’t know it but they were in one of the rooms of the Doctor’s expansive house.  This level was beneath the ground, and was flooded by bright fluorescent lights so that it practically beamed with whiteness.  The walls were padded in white, as in an asylum, and the floor was done in white fluffy 6” shag.  Lazily Molly rolled over so that she was on all fours.  Small closed circuit cameras noiselessly followed her movement, roughly 40 of them present in the room, each concealed ornately in the walls and set at least 2’ off the ground.




Molly’s arms had been amputated expertly at the elbows, and her legs had been removed just past the middle of her thighs.  Standing at full height (on all fourss) her new body barely broke 17” tall.  Her enhanced ass pushed up past this mark another ¾” but her shoulders didn’t clear 16”.  Her spine, seen from the side, angled ever so slightly from its high point at her shoulders down to the base of her base, where she was about 15” tall.


An average person on their elbows and knees would end up with their head lower than their rear, but since this could cause too much blood pressure in the brain the Doctor had made some precise measurements and instead of amputating at the knee he cut off a little more.  Molly had very lovely, cute, fat thigh stumps.  Her stumps had pads secured on them and her body had been fit into a specially tailored stretchy latex suit.  Her mouth hung dumbly open and dripped drool down the rebreather’s elephantine tube, which collected into a plastic bag near the end.


The stretchy suit hugged tightly over her arm stumps and her thigh stumps, up her ass and neck, and covered her face, running back down her spine to meet up again at her rear.  The pink material outlined her teats nicely, each having had been enlarged further under the patient treatment of Dr. Spencer until they hung grotesquely from her torso.  At her full height the nipples reached down to about 4” off the ground (about 2” into the shag.)  Measuring from the base of her tits to the end of her nipples, in a straight line, her bust burst out an awesome ~11”.  (Sidenote:  Someone check my math on this if you want.)  Her full bust measuring at approximately 30” in diameter and weighing about 10lbs. each her 40GG tits accounted for about 1/5 of her new total body weight.


If one were to take a brisk walk around the newly enhanced girl you would see a dainty puckered arsehole peeking out from a globulous latex-pink covered bubble-butt.  White lace frills crenelated around her waist in flowing, dancing waves.  A pink bonnet sat on her carefully attached wig, its perfect blonde ringlets dripping down the sides of her face, giving her the look of a little schoolgirl.


Her eyes were done in large pink eyeshadow, with bright bubblegum pink lipstain permanently injected into her wide luxuriant lips.  Each of her arm stumps had a white lace garter on it securely fastened.  Her leg stumps had pretty flowery frills looping around the tops to compliment the petticoat appearance of the papery-thin taffeta skirt secured firmly around the young lady’s waist.  This last produced nice rustling sounds when she walked and served to enhance the flower-like appearance of her rear, with the perfectly pouty and puffy pink pussy pulsating nicely in protrusion whenever her thigh stumps propelled her forward..




Sipping a cup of warm coffee and taking attentive notes on his patient’s reactions and behaviors Doctor Spencer sat patiently, observing his new patient Molly (research subject #40GG-Bl-0182.)  (Bust size, hair color, and test number.)  In front of him was a bank of about 30 screens.  He had 5 cameras currently trained on girl 182, one camera for each angle: one from the left side, one from the right side, one for the top, one for her front, and one for her rear; they oscillated slowly.  Each camera was equipped with a motion detector and could follow swiftly, but when observing a still subject they would ‘bob’ left and right and vary zoom ranges to afford greater viewing possibilities.  At a touch a camera setting could lock position, be manually adjusted to pan, tilt, or zoom, or be retracted into the wall if for whatever reason it needed to hide, be protected, (or be cleaned/have a part replaced/etc.)  Left on their own, the devices snapped still images; JPG compressed pictures, and they did so every 5 minutes and sent these to the central house database.  While they at all times provided live coverage of the room, it was not recorded in order to maintain data efficiency.


In moments when a great deal of motion is detected or a mass is detected near the camera the image rate increase to one every 3 seconds (with a silent alarm going off and image rate increasing to live recording after 3 minutes of such activity.)  The Doctor can also manually snap photos at varying qualities (he is using a rear camera to study the folds of Molly’s exposed pussy at the moment, having zoomed in from a shot of her large, lycra-covered rump.  (“The pink pussy oozes nicely in compliment with the pink lycra covering, snugly gazing out from the opening at the rear cover” Spencer writes in his notebook.)  #182’s pouting rear sex gapes lewdly from her enlarged rump.


Spencer had given Molly some extra fat in her posterior, a reverse liposuction, or ‘lipopump’ to increase her proportions in her rear.  Not having an exact weight due to its inability to hang freely like her massive mammories.  The Doctor estimates her rear mass at approximately 30lbs.  Putting the pen’s nub to his mouth to re-wet it the Doctor continues taking his notes.  Across the top of the page lie the date and a few numbers detailing the patient’s status for the day.  The doctor had been in the room earlier to check her ‘vitals’ while she had been sleeping.  The letterhead at the top of every page starts out:  Clinical Trial, Subject #40GG-Bl-0182.


Beneath it is written today’s results:  CHEST, 22lbs. REAR, 16lbs. OTHER. 24lbs., Body:  32% FAT (nominal.)  In the active world, in general, a body fat ratio of 30 percent or higher, in women, is considered overweight by medical science.  In Cherish, on the other hand, it is considered standard by many (so long as the extra pounds are in the right places, of course..)


So far the Doctor had simply given the girl some implants, removed her arms and legs, and given her some lipopumping.  He could have pumped more celluloid into her ass (the town kept an easy supply on hand to help flush out new female acquisitions) but that would have defeated the purpose of the new drug he was testing!



Chapter 5, “This drug has not been evaluated by the FDA and is meant as a dietary supplement only”


All new Cherish women are expected to have perfect bubble-butts and lush spherical cheeks protruding from their rear.  A dainty woman with a trim waist, bending over to reveal her ridiculously over proportioned and perfectly bubbly arse is just too irresistible a sight and ‘increases property values’ as the saying goes.  The Doctor was hoping to develop a simple drug that would treat a regular woman’s figure for this disorder, which the medical community in Cherish had termed ‘Acute Posterior Plumpness Deficiency’ or APPD, which was shortened to ‘Apt’ when used by the everyman about town.


As the insult went, whispered among homeowners ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Bob’s new girl is quite Apt, it’s a shame too, I heard that she’s really something in other areas.’


Spencer was running this test to develop an over-the-counter medication to combat the symptoms of this disorder.  He had finally come up with a prototype for the drug, which he was testing on 182.


While the previous versions of the medication had sometimes had some horrible side effects, which would cause cramping, bloating, dizziness, dry mouth, extreme feelings of discomfort or ‘stuffiness’ in the rear and an additional increase in bust size and reduction in muscle mass in the subject  (the arms would lose the most strength), as well as some loss of fat in specific places on the body (most noticeably the rib cage) Doctor Spencer had only concentrated on curing the dry mouth, or, as it was otherwise known around Cherish ‘Lack of Upper Lubrication.’


As the other saying went around Cherish, this one normally said in frustration to a doctor or a close friend:  (since it was an embarrassing admission, after all if you couldn’t get your girl wet up top its assumed you’re impotent)) “I’d love to be back with my [wife/missy/toy/girl] right now, but she’s in a bit of a lull right now.”


This was usually followed by an ‘ahh-what-can-you-do’ type of shrug and a prescription for ‘Wetterall,’ The jingle on Cherish radio going, of course, “Wetterall makes her all better, now everything’s going to be wetter.  Wetterall!”  (Note:  Cherish radio is not broadcast, but, like every media in Cherish, is carefully secured through ground lines and accessed directly from cable or fire-optic connections.  No outside media is allowed in, all content deriving from the singular institutional CherishMedia building near the center of town.)




Nothing causes a member to become erect in Cherish like the sight of a wet and unwilling female throat peering up at you at the end of a long day (working or partying with the guys while your wife spends all day in, bored and awaiting your return) before you give it a little of the old ‘Hi honey, I’m home.”






Still groggy, it took Molly a few moments to take any of her surroundings in.  Later, in the ‘full body’ (20” tall) mirror generously provided in one corner by her new owner, though kept safely behind plastic so as not to allow any of his pets to smash against it and then somehow creatively use the sharp edge to cut themselves), Molly would see her cow-like proportions and make inner throat gurgling screams (her vocal cords had been set to ‘lower throat only’ the Doctor’s personal favorite.)


In agony at her new appearance, she would caterwaul like the little precious princess in pink that she was while Dr. Spencer’s cameras took snapshots of her pussy, crying mouth, and swinging tits, recording the scene fully for analysis later.  Into the notebook went “Subject is apparently unhappy with her upgrades.”




This would happen once she was finally lucid, of course.  For the moment she just let the sleep dissipate from her eyes and breathed deeply from the corrugated latex rebreather strapped onto her face.




As she dizzily began to step forward on her stumps, moving first her left arm stump forward and then her right thigh stump, then her right arm stump, it began to penetrate her foggy brain that maybe something wasn’t quite right here.


She felt like maybe she had partied too hard the night before, yeah, that must be it, she must be lying in bed with some guy who had picked her up while she had been drunk.  Ooh, she wondered if he had been good in bed, she hoped so, because she couldn’t remember it at all.  Moving forward some more, the throbbing in her head subsided slowly and she became a little more aware that things were indeed quite peculiar.




If nothing else the light jingle of the little bells penetrated her dulled senses.  They were attached to her pretty garters and jingled merrily as she clunked forward on her clumsy stump appendages.  Molly continued forward on her new legs, with a dawning suspicion that she was no longer on the campus of The University of Kansas anymore . . .



Chapter 6, Cherry Blossom


Spencer tore himself away from his subject (she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and there was no way she was going to hurt herself, having removed her teeth and tongue as well during the reconstructive surgery as a basic precaution) and looked down at the spot under his desk where he would sometimes keep court with a special toy of his, when he let it out of its confines below.




He pressed a button on the panel before him and all of the monitors before him dimmed, until only a small security monitor remained trained on the subject.  Sighing at how long the day had been (so many surgeries, so little time. . .) he slid aside a panel in the desk before him with the press of another button, this one marked with the icon of a bright, red cherry.


It was then that his little Cherry Blossom came out to play!  This darling little slut was a highly trained and modified bimbo sucktoy who been completely reconfigured to better serve her intended function:  Its entire torso had been removed!


With no breasts and no arms, just shortened stump legs and a pelvis, the main features of the fetching young girl were the soft, lush, velvety treat in its center and its seldom used pussy which hung below.  It’s fetchingly fishlipped, pink, wet, and dripping upper fuckhole beckoning pitifully up to its Master, eager to please in hopes of receiving some relief from the aching throb in her aching pussy, Cherry Blossom blew little kisses at the hardening package in Dr. Spencer’s tightening trousers.




The girl’s vital organs had been painstakingly re-fit into the reduced space between the top of her head and the mouth of her cunt.  The distance between this space measured at approximately at 11½”.  Any extraneous internal mass (appendix, spleen, a kidney and a lung, etc.) had been removed and all but the kidney was labeled as medical waste and discarded.


The doctor patted his thigh, and the short thing waddled over to him on its still attractive, shortened, legs. Cherry Blossom spent most of her time inside of his oak desk, in a round soft plastic hollow, waiting in sexual frustration and boredom for him to ‘invite her out to play.’  She was still in full possession of an agile legal mind, having had no modifications to her brain performed, and still cried herself to sleep inside of the stuffy confines she now occupies when she thought of her past life.  She had been a powerful attorney for a firm specializing in sexual harassment.  Now, reduced to the state of a decidedly nonhuman thing, an object, Cherry Blossom serves at the Doctor’s amusement.




Sometimes he would dress her up in heavy rubber bondage, adding restrictive breathing tubes and clear rubber ‘body’ hugging suits.  There was a hole in the hood for her cock-slurping mouth to protrude from as well as a hole down below for her sexlips to peek out from fetchingly.  Today however, he had another piece of clothing in mind for his toy.


The Doctor smiled at her as he selected the clothing she was to wear for their ‘date.’  Cherry Blossom was slipped into an adorable, tiny little pink g-string (completely the same as a regular, normal thong except being put on her backwards (so that the fatter part, which would cover her vagina normally rested on her rear after it was put into place.)


It ran nicely between her soft, warm pussylips, giving her the only meager pleasure she was about to experience as it snapped back snugly, giving her a cute, extremely deep, fat cameltoe (and causing her lower lips to bulge to the sides around the toe as the g-string cut tightly between her large puffy labia.) The pretty pink thong then proceeded further to run further down and caressed her private underside, curving around and rising up between the tight protrusions of her bloated ass cheeks.  (Cherry Blossom’s large rear serves as a nice cushion when the Doctor wants to sit her down on it and change his point of entry from horizontal to vertical.)


The pastel-pink thong then continued further up her truncated rear, giving her a wedgie as the fat crotch area of the thong was threaded up through her ass slit, hugging tightly to her anal passage and gaining a thick coating of slime.  It then rose up the remaining short distance to go around her head, the waist area of the thong framing her face like a princess’s crown.  The tension which would normally have been created by hugging a woman’s waist was instead maintained by the poor thing’s bulging blonde pigtails (passing around and hugging the knots.)


The attractive sheer fabric then continued past the pigtail handles to continue over her face, running down the mouth, and then, Spencer tugged on it (adjusting it until its ‘natrual’ resting position on his cute little toy.)  He made her step through the ‘slips’ of the ‘dress’ so that as he tugged on it the thong inverted, to finally be worn fully upside down on her truncated form.  This caused the following things to happen as he tugged it into position:


Like suddenly wearing a pair of crotchless panties, her vagina was bare again (the thong hugging her thighs as it hung upside down.)  Even more magnificently, the soiled crotch of the panties that would normally be used to cover a full bodied woman’s vagina was pulled around (as Cherry Blossom’s own pussy was left vacant) so that the lovely pink (and brown stained) covering rested snugly atop its nose and mouth.  Spencer smiled as the part of her ‘dress’ that would normally cover a woman’s crotch now adorned his plaything’s nose and mouth charmingly.  Cherry Blossom inhaled the scent of her plush behind’s hole while the Doctor congratulated her on ‘still fitting into such a small dress.’  “You look good my dear, have you lost weight?” he asked her cruelly.




The whole clothing affair was a bit like attaching a too small rubber band to the mouth of a bottle and then stretching it down around the bottom of the bottle so that it becomes extremely tight.  After doing this imagine that the bottle were turned upside down while the rubber band stood still.  This is what Spencer ‘adjusting’ the thong into its current position had been like for his young blossoming flower.


The doctor then grabbed the ‘veil’ his little girl had on over her face (the sheer panty covering) and moved it aside, tugging the cute little thong as he did so, so that a nice amount of it was pulled again into her rear hole, flossing it.  The flimsy negligee offered the doomed girl no protection as the Doctor inserted two fingers into her mouth and stretched it apart ‘fishhooking’ her he began petting the cute little insides of her mouth.




When Cherry Blossom spoke around his fingers she made the cutest little cooing noises. . .  “That’s a good girl,” Spencer said, continuing to stroke the inside of her mouth.  His affectionate smile replaced quickly by a hungry look, Spencer withdrew his fingers and slid his chair forward to ‘greet’ the young thing, bringing his cock level with her truncated form.


Looking down at her, he curled his left hand into an ‘O’ silently commanding her to open her mouth and throat.  He began opening his hand, enlarging the ‘O’ until it got bigger and bigger, he watched as Cherry Blossom obeyed, opening wide (with her new modified throat muscles allowing her to open and close its rear throat like a mouth as well) until he could see deep down into her lower body.  “Say Ahhh,” he commanded, and then, as his cum receptacle started to talk, he stuffed his engorged and twitching cock, all 10” of it mightily into her.


His cock’s formidable length and considerable 4” girth making it a tight fit for the small oral cavity Spencer continued to push his manhood into his bimbo’s head, until his balls rested on her soft, wet, pillowy lips.




Each of Cherry Blossom’s cavities had had a collagen O-ring inserted into it to keep it nice and inviting.  Her eyes peered up at him beseechingly, hoping he would use her pussy instead, as, with each thrust, his throbbing member stretched her mouth walls more and more open and he drew closer to cumming.  Her eyes pleaded with him to use her pussy instead, to grant her some relief, but Spencer had already closed his eyes in pleasure and just rested his hands behind her head, continuing to hump her face, her thong now an eyepatch in its currently disheveled state.




Since she spent all day under his desk inside of a space shaped like a hollowed out sphere there was nothing for her to rub her cunny onto.  She didn’t have any arms to rub it with (and the Doctor has moved her clit further into her vagina, so that she could spend) hour after hour in silent frustration hoping that the Doctor would take her out to play with her.  The Doctor smiled down evilly into the reduced form beneath him, while it tried to beg with its eyes, desperately needing its pussy played with.  He used its pussymouth only rarely to remind it what release felt like, but was much more interested in taking her mouth, which he considered her best feature.




At some point in the future the Doctor had scheduled to make some upgrades to his darling Cherry Blossom.  She is scheduled to be taken into his clinic for ‘coloring’, where he will be adding a permanent pink stain to each of her mouth lips, and then moving down below to give her pussylips a similar treatment in a slightly more crimson hue.


He will then put her under general anesthesia and go into her head to take out unnecessary brain mass (reducing her IQ from its previous 120 to its projected 70 in the process.)  He could then, he thought, humping her face harder now in anticipation of the change with greater intensity, use the new space to further deepen the all-important shaft in her face that accommodated his cock.


He currently had a magnificent 10” long cock but he planned on continuing the expansion program he conducted on it and he was prepping his sweet little Cherry Blossom for that time when, as he looked down on her, he said “Daddy’s going to be even bigger for you soon sweetheart.  He’ll [speaking in the third person as though to a child] be able to tickle you even further back in that precious little throat of yours soon my darling.”


His current programme projected that his cock would be able to reach 12½” in two short months’ time, and he looked forward to being able to stuff her precious empty little brain cavity with his new ‘teachings.’




He petted Cherry Blossom’s head as she tried desperately to ‘hop’ up higher as though she could somehow catch his cock with her coose.  He smiled at this cute attempt to get ‘attention’ and stroked her hair, imagining what her future pudding of a brain was going to do with its reduced future IQ.


He made a mental note to plan on adding a small drain under the desk so that it could catch the drool that he knew would start to accumulate at the corners of her mouth, her simple mind waiting only for the next opportunity to ingest his throbbing manhood again.  He would then enjoy pouring the collected drool back into her inviting mouth and holding her huge lips closed until she swallowed the cold, wet waste and grimaced up at him in discomfort.




His attention to Cherry Blossom in the present faded, he closed his eyes, imagining her in her future state.  Happily keeping the image of her drooling face and hungry mouth foremost in his mind Spencer turned to face the monitors again, his little pet’s ministrations becoming just a pleasant sensation in his loins.


She slurped diligently at his cock (her current ample IQ bored to death from her confines under the desk but busying itself eagerly with this task, happy for the reprieve from the constant nothing of her existence, and hoping that maybe her owner would recognize her efforts and grant her more mobility at some point.)


In her dreams though, she was a full-bodied woman and the Doctor considered her an equal, gave her respect, and valued the work she did.  This was never going to happen as the only work the Doctor valued out of her was the type she was doing right now.  He considered her an amusing object, a piece of office furniture, something to use so that he could receive his orgasm without fuss and return to his work, “all in all an efficient piece of machinery,” he had noted when he had first made and installed her.


Still pseudo-hopping in desperation, the Doctor let Cherry Blossom continue her ‘research’ down below, and gave his full attention to the banks of monitors now showcasing the beautifully reduced Mollything once again.




The screens focused on 182 just as she had reached the mirror at the end of the room and was beginning to scream (in darling inner throat gurgles) in horror at her new body.  The Doctor smiled, confident that this precious moment was being recorded for posterity, and marked his notebook with one hand while the other gripped the back of his sucktoy’s head preparing her for a similar marking very shortly:


Closing his eye and leaning his head back in bliss, Spencer’s mighty tool spewed forth violently, releasing copious amounts of fertile sperm deep into the recesses of Cherry Blossom’s violated head.


The young sucktoy below grimaced at the large amount of scum that now gummily coated the insides of her head, and, gagging at the taste, bile began to rise up into her lower throat.  She struggled to keep it down (with growing anxiety rising in her widened eyes at the thought of the repercussions for ‘messing’ on her master’s cock) until finally she swallowed everything.




Cherry Blossom (formerly Miss Ginger Withcomb of 1312 Turner Ln.) swallowed all of the gooey cum, having to swallow multiple times to get the thick substance dutifully down.  The whole time she struggled with it she received not so much as a ‘good girl’ or even a sign of notice from her owner, except for a simple squeeze to her head with his knees, indicating that it was time for her to clean him.




After his cock had been parted from the slime that went rightfully down into his cum receptacle’s stomach (who, despite her disgust with its taste, still did not want to miss a drop of her food) Dr. Spencer pushed his ‘darling suck-suck’ and sometimes footstool back under the desk with his legs, pressing the cherry icon on his desk and closing her back up inside of the hollowed-out space she called home.


As she was so casually pushed aside, left all alone and isolated, with only her still neglected and increasingly frustrated loins to keep her company, Cactus Blossom began to weep.




Pulling his pants back on, his desk’s hidden contents fully forgotten, Spencer turned to the study of the White Room again:  Pleasurable diversions over, it was now time to get back to business.


He immersed himself in the beautiful sights coming from inside the White Room (Molly was trying to reach up with her stumps to feel her face)  His attitude quickly turning (with the spending of his lust) back into one of clinical detachment; he resumed his studies of the young Molly (#0182.)




The young thing was not going to enjoy her continued stay in the room (one of Spencer’s many) devoid of features, kept there for clinical study purposes only.  Unable to escape and helpless inside the White Room, she was forced to endure painful isolation for the duration of the drug’s trial.  She was monitored and put onto a daily regimen of the experimental drug, to be administered while she slept, her other bodily features steadily becoming less and less significant in relation to her increasingly fetching ass and bloating udders.



Clinical Trial, Subject #40GG-Bl-0182


Molly remained under the cool clinical gaze of the good Doctor for several months.  The effects on her form from the nightly injections she received while asleep were studied and researched until a final, optimal formula was developed and the test subject was no longer needed.


In order to preserve a clean test for its duration Molly was never allowed to see or interact with any other being (just the empty White Room and the mirror.)  During the subsequent months that followed, her body gained more mass in ‘proper proportion’ until the Doctor was happy with his new drug and finally concluded the trial.  With the testing complete the Doctor made a few minor modifications to Molly’s form, preparing her and the rest of the test’s documents into storage.




She had been sedated, moved into a prep room, undressed, given a full body depilation (which also included the top of her head) had her (stump) limbs removed entirely (since they no longer made contact with the ground, being lifted up off the ground by her tits and ass over time, replaced as supports for her body) and then finally moved into a storage pen, a 2’x2’x4’ compartment that was her new home.




Her new room is exactly like the White Room except very dim and containing only one appreciable feature, a short shelf running the width of her pen, which dipped concavely to form a shallow feeding trough down in front of her face.


The soft matted floor offered little yield and in the tiny dimensions of the 2’ wide by 2’ long by 4’ tall space in which she now was stored, Molly did not get much exercise:  Occasionally she would evacuate her bowels into the pipe beneath her, but other than that pleasant diversion for her she has no entertainment besides eating.


Her sphincter, neck, jaw, and facial muscles are the only ones she still possesses.  So other than breathing, rippling her very skinny tummy  (one of the side effects of the drug which Dr. Spencer left in, or bobbing her head up and down (as well as opening and closing her mouth and eyes, flexing her face, and eating, swallowing, and shitting) she didn’t have much to do.  Basically she just sleeps and grows more slovenly in appearance and thought processes.

182 wakes up each time she hears the feeding sounds begin, slurping the tasteless mush up into her toothless hole until it is all gone, at which point she would be forced to spend another timeless period staring dully ahead, wondering how long it would be before more food would slide down into its trough.  Each day was exactly the same as the one before, and flowed into each other without note.




She lived the days that followed in increasing anonymity and neglect, dining on her trough fillings of creamy, batter-rich, thick white sludge that contained the finished trial drug that needed to maintain her attractive figure and proportions (directing the fat into her bursting tits and bulging ass) as well as other unpleasant things:


The pasty feed also contained additional fat and vitamins to keep her healthy and full-figured.  Indeed, the facility treated her as a human garbage disposal and scraps or leftovers that were too disgusting for the humans in the house to eat ended up ground into her mush for future consumption.




She had tried hard starve herself to death by refusing to eat, but had given up; she had learned that, with increasing need and futility, her body had become well addicted to the minute narcotic substances that, unbeknownst to her, were also mixed into her slop.


However, in order to stop her from drowning herself in her slop trough, her nose was upturned through the use of a piece of elegant bondage:  a simple plastic hook gripping.  It slid into her nostrils, pulling them up towards where it was secured around the back of her head.  This pull causes her nose to bear an increasingly realistic resemblance to that of a pig’s snout and for her pulled upper lip to be pulled up in the center of itself to resemble the a bucktoothed rabbit (without the teeth, of course.)


In this manner her air holes are kept up and out of the way of the angle that would be required to suffocate her.  She has tried, countless times, to do so, but even at her neck’s furthest down her nose still clears the slop.  Her trough is well designed, very wide and shallow.  The pressure on it is monitored electronically by the weight of the food, so that the automatic feed dispenser knows when to issue forth more.




Now the day’s only activity consists of eating her slop, and the only change in this routine is the frequency with which she is given helpings.  In her timeless pen she cannot know how often she is fed, whether it has been 5 minutes since her last meal, or 5 hours, and instead unquestioningly just responds to the muscle memory of dipping her head down into her trough (the tolerance to the minute addictive substance long ago reducing any pleasure from it to nothing) like the good pig that she is then and slurping up the rich, filling feed every time she hears the plopping sound of more of the white paste dropping in.  In fact the machine is set to maintain a set amount of pressure on the sensing trough, per time interval, and will sometimes dispense more food just moments after she has emptied her trough.  To the unfocused mind of 182 those moments may as well be hours; each second feels like an eternity to the slop sucking hole-face of a pigwoman.



Epilogue, (Document Management)


Molly’s body was kept on record to testify to the drug’s efficacy and low risk of health effects.  Three years after the conclusion of the initial trial, she has given up hope of change, and has fallen into total acceptance of her new life.  She still fantasizes about the outside world, and even rarely hopes that someone will come to visit her and provide company, but she thinks about that less and less and instead just lives for her next helping of creamy slop.


She now thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she eats enough and grows large enough someone will have to come and pay her a visit (which she looks forward to soo longingly) even if it’s just in order to move her to a larger room. . .




This had happened many times already, actually, without her even noticing it.  When she was too large for her storage area 182 was given a sedative in its food and then, after being measured, and weighed and her new statistics being recorded, it was moved, whilst still asleep, into a new, and almost equally confining space.  In fact the Doctor personally stops by to update the file each time Molly ‘graduates’ her current ‘schooling’, and is moved from one small space to the next (slightly) larger one.


He fills in the new information on the holding cell door, displaying her vital statistics for anyone walking by to see.  This is an activity which usually brings such attention to his cock that he then relieves his bulging member into the contents of 182’s next scheduled feed helping each time he does it.  He then delights in pressing the button that executes a ‘manual dump’ of the (now glistening) slop into the pen so that he can watch with satisfaction as the bald and naked animal inside greedily devours it.


As he turns to head back to the nerve center of the complex, one can note the newly installed placard outside of the pen door which now reads:



CHEST:  96lbs.

REAR: 54lbs

OTHER:  32lbs.

Body:  83% FAT








by Alex Streuth


Literary notes:  As of now there is no major protagonist, the antagonist is none other than Alex Streuth, also my pen name, who works in mergers (the merging of his designs with female flesh) and acquisitions for Cherish, handling the more business end of things.  It is my intent for him to be a corrupting influence on the otherwise (relatively) wholesome ideals of the rest of the town.

In this story Doctor Herbert’s research is expanded upon, with the ponderousness and exactitude of his research and its intended applications being given review.  I sought to portray the Doctor as an earnest and occupied (while still somewhat sadistic, of course) physician and scientist who had not only internalized the view of women as non or sub-human but actively seeks ways in which to clinically study them that he may better create something artificially enhanced for male pleasure.  His manner in regards to his subjects is detached and professional.  Spencer acts as the executor of Alex’s designs, the two working in tandem, one a theoretician and go-to guy for the community, and the other (Spencer) a practical applicator of Alex’s theory and producer of ‘town goods.’


I may get around to a more concise keyword description of what themes are contained in each story, as the focus varies, but for now be advised that the general scope of my literature revolves heavily around degradation, dehumanization and objectification of women, and forced feeding.


Lastly, the author disclaims that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of behaviors are healthy much less conscionable.  It is my intention to provide a well-written adult story that allows the reader to indulge in their darker appetites.  Feedback is welcomed at


Please check out Alex Streuth's Stories for my hosted collection.