The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Boy-crazy Kimberly

Kimberly Dew was boy-crazy. That’s all you could really say about her. But she had the looks to help her out. A roundish face with cheeks like two round apples and large friendly brown eyes that peered at the world in sensual delight. One of those slender brunettes with small breasts, B-cups, and slender hips that just matched the entire slender, whimsical, waifish appearance of the girl. Well, woman now, right? After all, eighteen meant adulthood, a freshman at the community college, in Edge City, scraping by to pay for her half of the apartment. Kimberly came from modest means, but the girl had charm. Just so, well, cute. Adorable. And boy-crazy.

In high school, she’d said to Katy one night, she’d slept around, lost her virginity almost as soon as she learned she had it, never regretted the loss. Never even acknowledged it. Just went from boy to boy, dated, if you could call it that, long enough for physical intimacy, and then on to the next. Jocks. Hoods. Any guy with looks and a body. That was important to her. You had to have the right body. And so many guys did.

She didn’t drop the habit in college. No, her freshman year so her busy picking up guys, dating guys, casual hook-ups, always on the arm of a different boy, a different guy. Looking for what, exactly? She didn’t know, and she didn’t really care. Talking to her roommate, Katy, about it, she insisted she wasn’t looking for anything. Not happiness. Certainly not a husband, or romance.

“I just like them,” she’d said, in the matter-of-fact tone she used when explaining something that should have been readily apparent to even the dumbest person. “They’re so, so. Cute. And they’re bodies. God. I could ride them all day.”

Katy understood that last statement as verity. She’d witnessed it. Well, heard it. Roommates have to put up with things. Or leave. But when she heard it in the morning leaving their apartment and heard it in the afternoon coming back for a quick change of clothes, and heard it for the final time coming home, the same day, for a bit of relaxation in the evening, then she could attest to the factuality of the declaration. Kimberly Dew could, in fact, ride a man all day. At least Katy assumed it was the same man. With Kimberly you couldn’t really tell.

Kimberly had a few girl friends, and Katy counted herself among them. Friends who worried about her. STDs. Bad reputation (too late for that, Katy mused). Maybe even emotional trouble, a little depression to follow up the body’s high. Moderation, her friends said. Guys brought trouble, they cautioned. Kimberly Dew didn’t listen. And then she started coming home with torn clothes, reeking of alcohol. That couldn’t be good, and Katy, busy flipping through a home and garden magazine for some idea of what to get her older sister for her birthday, meant to put a stop to it.

An idea swirled around her head. Grasping it, she held it firmly in her mind’s hands, turning it over to look at from all sides. It might work.

“It’s for her own good,” she told herself. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

She’d heard good things about the place. They worked miracles, it seemed, with behavior modification for people, women, with issues. Self-harm. Substance abuse. Low self-esteem. She didn’t know if being boy-crazy counted, but, hey. Could it hurt?

One night, Kimberly was sitting on the couch, fidgeting, nervous, hungry for action, but home, of all things, for the evening. At Katy’s insistence. Just this once, Kimmi. Let’s stay home and watch a movie. Your choice.

Kimberly hated movies. She wanted to live, not watch.

But she agreed. Mostly to shut Katy up.

Katy lay on her side of the couch, about ready to start the movie. Just then she sat up and held out a piece of paper.

“Hey Kimberly, look what I found on the bulletin board in the student union. Some lab is giving out free money for sleep monitoring.”

“Yeah, well?”

“Didn’t you say your folks were cutting back on your allowance?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Well, this place will pay you to let them monitor your sleep. Real money, too.”

“How much?”

“One hundred a night.”

“How many nights?”

“Two weeks. Fourteen nights. That’s fourteen hundred dollars, Kimmi. Just for sleeping.”

“Well, I mean, that’s rent.”

“We can both do it.”

“You sure? Won’t they hook us up to wires and things like that?”

“They might when we sleep. After all, they gotta have some way of studying our sleep patterns or whatever they’re doing.”

“But what about during the day! I can’t be gone for two weeks!”

“It’s the summer. Besides, they’ll let us get out doing the day, I’m sure of it.”

“You sure of it.?”

“Sure, I’m sure. And I hear some of the lab boys are awfully cute.”

“Really?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Okay,” Kimberly said with a mischievous smile, “let’s do it!”

At the front desk

So Katy called the number, arranged an appointment, and drove Kimberly to the research center, a nice, respectable building in the middle of an office park. Large pink letters above the glass entry proclaimed The Diana Group Research Center. Katy parked the car and led Kimberly through the shiny glass and aluminum doors and up to the front desk, where she gave the receptionist their names.

“Oh, yes,” said the receptionist, a blond with short, cropped hair, about three inches on top, but shaved almost smooth above her ears and neck. The haircut matched her sharp, angular, delicate features well. Each ear bore three or four studs, some set with blue or red jewels, some just metal. She wore a pink blouse with enough of her top buttons unfastened to show off a small cleavage reinforced by a pink pushup bra. Heavy dark mascara, dark eyeliner, and blue shimmering eyeshadow set off her rich glossy pink lipstick. She winked at Kimberly as she typed her name into the keyboard of the computer in front of her.

“Kimberly Dew,” she said. “We already have you registered, but if you could please take these forms and fill them out, we’ll be with you as soon as we can. We’re so excited you’re here!”

“Can you tell me about this place?” Kimberly asked. “What is it? What do they do?”

“What don’t they do, you mean,” the receptionist answered with an eager, friendly voice. “I actually had a treatment here a while back. They worked wonders on me. Just wonders. I used to.” Her voice trailed off, she turned away, as if deep in thought. “And now I don’t,” she finished, gathering her enthusiasm, and smiling brightly, first at Katy, then at Kimberly. “That really is just the loveliest necklace, honey. You make it look super.”

Kimberly stiffened. She hated it when girls acted like that. That kind of flirting. What the hell was that wink about anyway? Save it for the boys, girl. So she didn’t smile back. Just kind of grabbed the clipboard with the forms, took a pen from a holder on the counter, and turned to Katy.

“What about you? Where’s your form?”

The receptionist looked at the computer.

“You’re our only appointment for today, Miss Dew.”

Katy leaned over the counter.

“Are you sure about that? I called for the two of us. What do you have for a Katy Dawson?”

The receptionist punched the name in.

“Sorry. Just Miss Dew here.” The receptionist turned to Kimberly. “If you would just go through that door to your right, I’ll let in. There’s a waiting room inside where you can finish filling out those forms.”

“But what about you, Katy? I don’t want to do this by myself.”

“I’ll be a minute behind you, Kimmi. Just go through that door, and I’ll get everything sorted out with Miss,” she glanced at the receptionist questioningly.

“Piper. Britney Piper.”

“With Miss Piper. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.”

Kimberly walked up to the heavy wooden door slowly, doubtfully. Britney buzzed, and Kimberly turned the knob, pushed the door, and walked into the waiting room.

Katy pulled a flash drive from her purse as Kimberly walked through the heavy door. She handed the drive to Miss Piper, who smiled and plugged it into her computer. Opening the folder, she clicked on one photograph after another.

“Will those work?” Katy asked, worried. They hadn’t been easy to take, considering her sister’s suspicious nature and extreme timidity. But Katy was patient, and her friend needed help. Badly.

“These will work beautifully,” Britney replied. “You’ve got real talent, you know.” She smiled and winked at Katy, running the tip of her tongue over her bright pink lips. She held a stray thumb and finger at another button of her already expressive decolletage.

But Katy no more played that game than Kimberly. She smiled curtly and nodded.

“Call me in two weeks?”

“You bet, sugar.”

In the waiting room

As she sat in the chair, filling out the first page of the short stack of papers needing her signature and initials, Kimberly admitted that at least the room smelled nice. Along with the soft music in the background, it added to a sense of, well, relief. Of relaxation. No. Not relaxation. Almost the opposite, in a way. She felt her senses heighten, a growing sexual tension. But in a relaxed sort of way. A strange feeling, if you thought about it. But something told Kimmi not to think about it. After all, she had those papers to fill out.

Some of the questions were a little nosy, to be honest. A little too, um, fixated on her sexual activities. And her sexual preferences. Well, I guess they’d have to know everything about me, she thought. I mean. I guess. But what the hell that had to do with sleep was beyond her.

Questions about how often she had sex, how many partners, whether she considered herself strictly heterosexual, whether she had to have sex before sleeping, were her dreams sexual in nature, how often did she masturbate, and on and on and on.

After a while she quit resenting the intrusive nature of the questioning. After all. She actually found herself enjoying responding to the personal inquiries by answering as intimately as she knew how, often add details well beyond the space on answer fields to contain.

Straight, straight, straight.

Boys, men, six inches is fine, five inches is fine, small is fine, large is better, I like a big fat cock.

Yes, I swallow. Doesn’t every girl?

Every night.

Usually with a different boy. Is that so bad?

Yes, I guess you could say I’m a slut.

Whore?

Maybe. I mean, who doesn’t need money?

And on and on and on.

She traced her inner thighs with her long fingernail, painted a deep red. She’d like to fuck right now, to be honest. I guess I’ll have to give that up, she thought. At least for the next two weeks. I’ll have to score some dick during the day. Shouldn’t be that hard. She continued running the tips of her fingernails in back-and-forth movements across the bare skin of the inside of her thigh.

Katy’s statement about the cute boys in the lab had convinced her to wear a short plaid skirt, red, black, and white, showing plenty of skin. Her fingers of her left hand fidgeted with the buttons of her blouse, a lovely pale green shirt with frilly cuffs and just the tiniest black polka dots. The receptionist at the desk, that one with the short hair, leapt into her mind, how she had exposed her bra, a push-up to enhance her modest cleavage. Taking a cue from her, she undid another button. Best to be prepared, she thought. For when she’d finally get to those boys.

Underneath the skirt she wore skimpy black panties, thongs naturally, the gusset of which dug between her lips, tight on her clitoral hood. She felt herself growing damp and warm. Those questions had really turned her on, she thought.

Pulling her right hand away from her thigh, she squirmed in her seat, crossed her legs and continued filling out the paperwork attached to a metal clipboard. She yawned and looked around. No boys so far, but from time to time someone came entered the room from the door opposite the one she’d come in through. They must have been workers, assistants here, but they hardly dressed appropriately, she thought. Young women, girls almost, not much older than eighteen by the look of them, wearing only tight pink scrub shirts and incredibly tight pink booty shorts showing off round, perky butts. They all wore pink sneakers. Cute definitely, but not appropriate to a research setting. Heck, even she could see that.

Certainly far more casual footwear than the black heels she’d chosen to wear.

Well, she sighed. She’d have some competition with those cute lab boys from what she could tell by inspecting the two or three assistants stepping into the waiting room to call out a name or deliver some kind of drink to one of the people seated in their chairs. All of them women, too. Which Kimberly thought a little odd. She looked them over, a half a dozen or so women of all ages, sitting in the waiting room, ready to be called for whatever it was they’d signed up for.

She looked at one girl, about Kimberly’s age, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and wearing dark, heavy make-up. Kimberly noticed ornate tattoos running up and down both arms. The girl wore her black hair spiked in a mohawk.

Pierced eyebrows.

Pierced nose.

Pierced lips.

The girl looked up, catching Kimberly’s stare.

The girl flipped her the bird, and Kimberly looked away, angry and embarrassed.

“I wonder if they’re all here for that sleep business,” Kimberly wondered.

Just then one of the young assistants, breasts free and tight against her pink scrub top, erect nipples poking through the fabric, nudged Kimberly’s shoulder with gentle sway of her hips.

“Hey, there, sweetie,” the young woman said, in a cheerful, almost giggling voice. “Have you tried our Pink Water? It’s so yummy.”

Kimberly looked up, her face practically smushed against the assistant’s boobs. She pulled her head back a little and saw a small, clear plastic bottle filled with a sparkling liquid, a transparent pale pink in color. A simple label on the bottle declared TDG in bold pink letters on a blue bubbly background.

“I’ll just set it down on the table here,” the girl said, stooping to place it on a low table beside the molded plastic chair Kimberly was sitting in. Kimberly couldn’t help but stare down the girl’s V-neck, confirming the assistant’s lack of brassiere. She sighed, jealous of the size of assistant’s breasts that the powers that be had endowed her with. Kimberly’s own boobs weren’t actually small, thank you, and if more than a handful were too much, then Kimberly could congratulate herself on having too much. Just.

But the knockers on that girl were just, wow. At least twice as big as hers. She caught herself raising her head to peak at the girl’s nipples. The assistant held herself that position, lingering to move a short stack of magazines which weren’t actually in the way, lowering her body even further, allowing Kimberly an incidental and fuller look at the total exposure of the assistant’s tits hanging like ripe fruit from the main branch of her body.

“There,” she said, standing up, smiling and winking at Kimberly. “You’ll see. You’ll just love it.” The girl lightly touched Kimberly’s shoulder.

“Your hair,” she continued. “I love the way you’ve pulled it back. It’s so. Cute. Super adorable.”

Then the girl turned and trotted out of the waiting room. Was it Kimberly’s imagination, or did that girl swing her ass in those tight pink shorts with more emphasis, knowing that Kimberly’s eyes followed? Why were her eyes following? Well, for one thing, the lower half of her cheeks hung below the lined hem of her booty shorts, each cheek forming half of the sweet, wide and round heart shape of her pert derriere.

Really, if that’s the way they dressed, she’d have to step up. She’d have to take off her skirt and run around in her thong in front of those lab boys.

She turned her attention to the bottle of Pink Water beside her on the table. She lifted it, read the sparse label doubtfully, unscrewed the pink cap, smelled the water suspicious, and brought the container to her lips, tilting the bottle to take a small and hesitant taste.

Not bad. Strawberry and bubblegum, a hint of vanilla, the sharp tingle of carbonation.

But she wasn’t thirsty, so she put the bottle down to finish the rest of her paperwork, mostly signatures acknowledging consent to stay, waiving rights of legal repercussions, etc. Just the usual boring small print she’d never read before and wouldn’t start now. Three more pages of the stuff. She lifted the small bottle with her left hand and continued scrawling her name and initials, unconsciously taking a long, slow, deep drink of the strawberry-flavored pink fizzy water.

She tilted the bottle straight up for a last sip when she realized she’d already emptied it. Shrugging, she turned the last page of her forms. Finally, she sighed. Well, that’s that.

Just then the assistant stepped into her space. Kimberly’s gaze ran up the ankles of the cute assistant poking above the precious pink sneakers they wore here, lingering slowly over her calves and shapely knee, up her thighs, over the sweep of her hips, over the swell of her boobs, and touched the dainty smile of her lips set in pink glossy lipstick.

God. She’d have to do more than run around in her underwear to get those guy’s attention, Kimberly thought. These assistants were so cute. Hot, even, from those boys’ perspective.

The assistant held out her hand, and Kimberly read her name tag for the first time.

Cynthia.

That drink feels good, she realized. Her insides began to glow, to feel warm, she felt a sudden feeling of happiness wash over her, a simple gladness with the way things are. She was glad she’d come, she realized. Glad Katy had talked her into this.

I wonder when she’s going to get here, she suddenly wondered.

“Ready?” Cynthia honey pitched voice broke through her thoughts.

“Hm?” Kimberly’s eyes rose to meet Cynthia’s.

I mean, she did have pretty eyes, and her short blond hair suited her, even if it had been dyed platinum, topping her round, wide face. And did everybody here wear the same makeup, that shimmering blue eyeshadow and glossy pink lipstick? I mean, it looks good. But.

“It’s time to meet Dr. Essenza. She’s so excited to meet you. Here, take my hand.”

And without quite realizing why she did so, or even wondering why she did, Kimberly placed her left hand inside Cynthia’s right hand and stood up, letting the assistant guide her across the waiting room and out the opposite door. Soon she found herself walking down a wide corridor, her heels tapping the tiled floor to the soft patter of Cynthia rubberized sneaker soles. They walked down the hallway with white walls, and Cynthia strode alongside her, holding her hand with her left and nudging her from behind with her right hand above Kimberly’s hip, below the waist band of her skirt, the palm of her hand lightly touching the rising slope of Kimberly’s butt.

Kimberly felt it, thought it weird and uncomfortable, wanted to protest or at least wriggle free, but just submitted, happy to be led and pushed at the same time.

After all, she was here to.

Well, what, exactly?

It didn’t matter. She was just here, and that’s what counted.

Kimberly smiled at that thought.

Cynthia kept up a steady stream of whispered conversation with Kimberly, her cheek practically touching Kimberly’s cheek, as she spoke softly into Kimberly’s ear. Dazed, thoughts wandering, she tried to listen as best she could, but nothing Cynthia said made sense, just random declarations of girl stuff. Cute things, cute clothes, underwear, pink was her favorite color. Nighties, she just loved nighties. Girls should dress in nighties all the time. And on it went. At last Cynthia led her to a closed office door. She tapped and cracked the door ajar.

“Dr. Essenza? Kimberly Dew is here to see you now.”

Dr. Essenza

Kimberly didn’t hear the response, but she felt Cynthia push her forward into a spacious office, Cynthia’s hand planted firmly and unmistakably this time on the full cheek of the girl’s butt.

“You just go in now, sweetie. You’ll see. Dr. Essenza’s just super. And you’re such a sweet girl, she’ll just love you.”

Kimberly collected herself after having been pushed into Dr. Essenza’s office, a fairly large space decorated in soft pastels of pinks, light blues, and pale yellows for the most part. The floor was carpeted, and Kimberly’s high heels sank into its depths as she walked to one of two chairs facing Dr. Essenza across from a wide, glass-topped desk with a chrome frame.

Dr. Essenza nodded to Kimberly and pointed at one of the chairs.

“Please sit, Miss Dew. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Dr. Essenza smiled and turned her attention to the monitor of her computer, which faced away from Kimberly. Kimberly took the time to size the doctor up. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, fleshy but not chubby, full-figured in the best sense of the word, Kimberly admired the doctor’s lush, long dark hair falling in styled waves around her shoulders, parted in the middle of her head. Dr. Essenza, evidently of Mediterranean heritage by her olive-tinted skin, boasted an ample bosom, wide hips, and long legs, shown off by a dark mid-length skirt. She could see them, crossed at the knees under the clear glass of the professional woman’s desk.

Her white blouse, the first three or four buttons undone to reveal a magnificent cleavage ensconced in a sheer and frilly lace red brassiere. Kimberly no longer startled at the look. She’d come to expect that sort of thing here, in the short time she had been here. She fingered another button of her own shirt, suddenly feeling too strait-laced and serious.

She’d already undone a button in the waiting room, so unbuttoning another button had opened her own cleavage almost fully. Kimberly tittered to herself, feeling a little naughty and somehow relieved at the same time.

When in Rome, she thought.

Finally, Dr. Essenza turned to face Kimberly, and the girl shivered at the weird experience of being checked out by the powerful gaze of the woman in front of her. Checked out, sized up, rated, and eyed like candy. Kimberly bit her lip. The women here were weird. Do you suppose they were all? No. This was a real business, a real institute, everybody had heard of it, a major player in the local economy, and any word, even the merest hint of that sort of hanky-panky would almost certainly have gotten out.

Wouldn’t it?

I mean, Edge City wasn’t that big of a city. Rumors flew.

Kimberly returned Dr. Essenza’s stare, admiring the woman’s elegant makeup, the rich red lipstick she wore, the silver necklace hanging from her neck, the glittering studs and hoops in her ears, and the shining rings on her fingers. Bejeweled. That’s the word she’d used to describe her. The woman was bejeweled.

That moment of apprehension passed. Kimberly felt just too relaxed to worry about anything, and besides, so what? She wasn’t here for them anyway; she was here just to do that sleep monitoring nonsense and get paid. Two weeks. She’d could spend every night in this place for two weeks. For fourteen hundred dollars she could do a lot of things.

Let the women here check her out if they wanted to.

She pushed her tits forward a little, increasing the gap made by her unloosed buttons, almost bringing her breasts into full view, covered in her black satin bra as they were.

Dr. Essenza smiled knowingly.

“Well, Miss Dew. Do you mind if I call you Kimberly? No? Good.”

She hadn’t actually waited for a response.

“Well, Kimberly. I suppose you just have all sorts of questions for me, don’t you? And I would love to answer them, really I would. But it’s been such a busy day, such a very busy day, and well, you know. Time.”

Kimberly frowned, not understanding the doctor’s meaning.

“The thing is, and I know this is probably going to come as quite a shock to you, the thing is, um. Do you know why you’re here?”

Kimberly relaxed. She could answer this question.

“Hm hm. Sleep monitoring. You guys need to monitor my sleep. For, um, research and stuff.”

“Well,” replied Dr. Essenza. “That’s not exactly true. I mean, part of it is, some of it is, but not all of it. You see, yes, we’ll use you for research. Of course we will, it’s what we do. It’s in our name. And we’ll monitor your sleep. That’s actually a huge part of your procedure, you know.”

“My procedure?”

“Oh yes. Your procedure. What your friend Katy Dawson signed you up for and what you’ve agreed to undergo.”

“I don’t understand. I didn’t sign up for a procedure! What kind of procedure?”

“Your friend Katy cares about you, Kimmi.”

“Kimberly.”

“She cares about you. All your friends do. And they’re concerned. So very concerned about your behavior. So they sent you to us. To help you.”

“To help me?”

“Oh yes. To help you.”

“To help me what?”

“To help you give up boys, of course. To cure you of your boy problem.”

“I don’t understand. What boy problem? How can you make me give up boys? I just. Is this a joke?”

“Oh, it’s not a joke, Kimmi.”

“Kimberly.”

“And we have all kinds of ways to make you give up boys. It’s what we do. Among other things. Surely you’ve noticed?”

Kimberly shook her head doubtfully. Dr. Essenza shrugged.

“The thing is, we have all kinds of ways to do what we’re going to do to you. Usually we like to keep it secret. Usually we’re not so, well, up front about it. But we’ve tried out a new technique, and we really like, it’s just fabulous, you’ll see, you’ll love it. But we’re done with Stage 1, that’s what we’re calling it, Stage 1. That’s where no one knew what was happening so they all kind of just went along with it, which was really sweet of them and easy for us, but you see, don’t you?”

“No. No, I don’t see,” Kimberly replied, happy to be able to voice some of her confusion.

“Well. To be blunt. We need your resistance, honey. We need to know how resistance works. And if we tell you ahead of time what we’re going to do to you, maybe that will make your resistance go up, go way up. Through the roof, so to speak.”

“Resistance to what?” Kimberly voice rose, not quite a panic. She felt far too good to panic. But a panic lurked underneath her happiness, like a dentist’s drill under nitrous.

“You still don’t get it, sweetie?”

Kimberly shook her head.

“We’re going to turn you gay, Kimmi. We’re going to turn you into a lesbian, a lesbian who sleeps with women just the way you sleep with boys now, so many boys, Kimmi isn’t that right? But in two weeks it will be girls. All you’ll do is sleep with girls. You’ll take so much pleasure in their bodies, and they’ll take so much pleasure in yours. Won’t that be fun? And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Kimberly,” the girl in front of the desk insisted, buttoning up her shirt and crossing her legs, and sitting straight up in her chair, alert, but strangely, weirdly not alarmed.

“Good,” Dr. Essenza replied. “That’s the spirit.”

Dr. Essenza in lab with Cynthia and Kimmi — 1st session

“The thing is,” Dr. Essenza said as she attached a series of thin pads attached to thin wires to Kimberly’s bare head, smooth now, entirely devoid of her. Essenza interrupted herself to run the flat of her graceful hand over the top of Kimberly’s bald head, marveling at its smooth and silky texture.

“It really is quite beautiful, your head. Such a nice shape and almost no unsightly bumps or bulges. Remarkable.”

She wiped the tears rolling down Kimberly’s face.

“Don’t worry, darling. Hair grows back. You’ll see, you’ll have just the loveliest shock of hair you could imagine, I promise. And any color you want it to be. Or we want it to be. I guess it really won’t be up to you.”

More tears streamed from Kimberly’s eyes.

“Sh,” said Dr. Essenza said soothingly. “You’ll still like it. And Cyndi will love any way you turn out to look, won’t you Cyndi dear?”

Cynthia was standing beside Dr. Essenza, waiting for instruction, casually rubbing her leg against Kimberly’s and fighting back just the strongest urge to cup the girl’s lovely boobs, on full display now, nude as the girl was.

“Oh gosh, I just like her so much already, Dr. Essenza. I just can’t imagine liking her more. But I will. I’ll love any way she turns out, Dr. Essenza. You just do the most beautiful work.”

Kimberly had tried to resist. She really had, but the effects of the Pink Water increased as the meeting with Dr. Essenza dragged on, until when Cynthia came back to retrieve her, to lead her to their first session’s lab, Kimberly docilely allowed herself to be led by the assistant in the cute pink outfit.

“That’s the tri-dormal-phenobarbin, sweetie. It really does a number on you, doesn’t it? Just makes you feel so, so. Submissive. Don’t worry. We just need you tranquil for this first part. We need to shave your head and get you undressed. The Pink Water will wear off in a couple of hours. By then it won’t matter, and you can be as feisty as you want to be. Good girl.”

That last part was said as Cynthia led Kimberly to a barber’s chair at a narrow counter running the length of one of the walls in the lab.

“Hold still now, I don’t want to give you a nasty little cut. Those hurts!”

Then Cynthia retrieved an electric razor and proceeded to cull off all of Kimberly’s beautiful chestnut hair. The girl cried silently as she looked at herself in a mirror running a good portion of the length of the counter running along the wall. She wanted to scream, to yell, to throw her hands around, to get up and leave, but she just sat there accepting everything they did to her. And they haven’t even gotten started, she thought. They’ve just now only begun.

Finished with the hair, Cynthia blew the remains of Kimberly’s hair off her shirt and shoulders with a blow dryer, wiped Kimberly’s head clean, and applied cream to her scalp.

“I need to completely shave it, dear.”

Cynthia handled Kimberly with a firm but delicate tenderness, and Kimberly allowed her anxiety to dissipate, while the assistant spread lotion over her head with her soft hands, methodically and carefully shaving the remaining rubble on Kimberly’s head.

“There. As bald as. As bald as my uncle Bob.” The assistant snickered.

Cynthia unstrapped Kimberly’s black heels and stood the girl up.

“I need to undress you now, dear.”

She leaned into Kimberly’s ear.

“This is almost my favorite part of the job,” she whispered. “It gets me so hot. Later on you can feel how it makes me. Not now though. Doctor says to wait.”

All the while Cynthia unbuttoned what few buttons were left to unbutton on Kimberly’s pale green polka dotted blouse.

“Such a cute shirt,” she cooed as she pulled it off Kimberly’s yielding shoulders.

Loosely embracing Kimberly from the front, the girl sucked her breath as Cynthia reached around her, gingerly unsnapped her black bra and let it fall to the floor with her blouse. The assistant ran her hands slowly along Kimberly’s shoulder blades, moving them softly from the back towards the girl’s front, caressing the sides of her small breasts lightly with the palms of both hands, and pulled them away, smiling at Kimberly ruefully.

“In time,” she said. “I promise. You’ll just have to be patient.”

Then Cynthia unfastened the belt that held Kimberly’s skirt. Unsnapping the button of the fly, she unzipped the skirt from the side, and let it fall softly to the floor, gasping at Kimberly slender body, the gentle curve of her ass, waifish but not boyish, feminine without being lavish like Essenza’s. Cynthia stifled that thought. She knew Essenza held sensitivities concerning her hips.

Then she slid her black panties off, her thong, sticking a little as the gusset clung to cleft of Kimberly’s damp vagina.

“You, too, huh? I know. So hot.”

She tugged the panties to the floor.

“Step out of them, please. Such a good girl. So pretty. So cute. So hot.”

Now Kimberly sat in the metal chair, waiting strapped to the frame while Dr. Essenza hooked her to wires, clamps, and strange devices. Not an ugly metal chair, no. By no means, no. A lovely metal chair in pink enamel, resistant to chipping, and soft pink cushions, for the comfort of the girls who visited their labs and gave so much of themselves to their research. In fact, the whole lab was done up mostly in pink, with pretty colorful butterflies and pretty colorful songbirds covering the free areas of the walls, those areas of the walls not already hung with hooks, clamps, cables, and long steel rods.

Then she took Kimberly to a metal chair, like a dentist’s chair, with metal armrests and metal leg rests, each one with a leather cuff attached to it to shackle the unresisting college student. Then, too Kimberly’s shock, amazement, and extreme fear, Cynthia stretched a kind of belt or collar around her head, a collar with a small, silicone cock pointing inward and ending in a ball facing the outside of the collar. Kimberly wasn’t stupid. She knew what it was. She shook her head.

“Please, sweetie. It’s really the most amazing thing, you’ll see. You’ll love it. And you’ll look so super sexy wearing it. I promise.” Cynthia winked at and wriggled her hips. “Plus, you have to. And I just don’t want to make you. I always feel so, so. So mean afterwards, and I hate that feeling. Yuck.”

Cynthia held the tip of the cock at Kimberly’s mouth and rubbed it over her lips.

“Come on,” she coaxed softly, teasingly. “You can do it. I just know you can.”

And Kimberly did. God help her she did. The dick at her mouth just felt too good to resist, even though she knew it was fake. But she hadn’t had a cock in two days. That Katy somehow managed to block her at every opportunity. Which is why she dressed so provocatively for those boys in the lab. Kimberly slowly opened her mouth, the dildo slipped in, life-like but not life-sized, or at least smaller than the cocks she usually dealt with, a silicone cock not quite three inches long.

Cynthia tightened the collar, holding the cock and gag firmly in Kimberly’s mouth.

Dr. Essenza finished attaching the pads and wires.

“The thing is, we have so many ways to do this. Hypnosis is a favorite, and we’ll be doing some of that, sure, but there’s also the brute force attack. A favorite of others. I’m not convinced it brings a long-lasting change though, although the temporary results are striking to say the least. Chemicals. Those work wonders. Of course, we can always combine all three, and we will with you, but we’ve added a something special. A little something I came up with, if you must know.”

“Brute force attack?” Cynthia asked, shocked, scared, and concerned. It sounded so, well, brutal. Ugly.

“Hm hm, darling.” Essenza span around quickly to face her assistant. “It’s what we used on you to begin with, don’t you remember, sweet girl?”

“Oh, that. Well that wasn’t so brutal.”

To tell the truth it was fun as hell, Cynthia thought. Even at the time you couldn’t help but enjoy it, which was the whole point of it, she supposed. Image after image of lesbian pornography, video after video of every part of a woman’s heavenly body, her wonderful form, from her ass, to her tits, to her lips, to her feet, her beautiful legs, her, her, her. And then later, the bucket thing. Sounds, images, and videos assaulted her senses in every conceivable way, with her head encased in that electric bucket thing, her pussy and tits clamped, exposed, and hooked into the most wonderful pleasure machine. And the women, oh god, the women she saw, hours on end of lesbian sex, sound, image, even smell, till she could almost taste the women herself, and every image, every sound, paired with just the most adorable pleasure pulse to her pussy, her tits.

Oh yes. Brute force attack worked, all right.

I mean, she’d wanted to resist. But after a while, why bother?

“You caved so easily, baby.” Essenza laughed. “You were so fucking wet. And god, your screaming orgasms. I came for hours just listening to you.”

“I didn’t like looking at the men, though.”

A pout crossed Cynthia’s face.

“No. You wouldn’t. We did that on purpose, see?”

She remembered. Just about the most intense nausea combined with pain she could ever stand to feel again assaulted her nerves, her brain, burned the very center of her body, every time a man made his appearance, even a clothed man, even just the voice of a man. A pain and nausea quickly replaced by a sudden euphoric orgasm every time a woman appeared, a nude woman, a beautiful woman in the throes of passion with another woman, passionately kissing another woman, so hungrily, so greedily. Then the nausea, the pain passed, and she’d cum and cum and cum to the lovely, sweet sound of a woman’s voice saying, “Good girl. Good girl. Good girl. Cum for me. Cum for me again. Your pussy’s so hot. Your pussy’s so wet. Do you want to taste my pussy?”

It didn’t take her long to squeal a feverish “Yes, please.”

That’s when the bucket really went into action. Upping the pornography into a vivid tour of lesbian virtual pornographic reality.

More than pornographic really. The women, those lesbians, might as well have all been real.

Cause those orgasms she’d had sure as hell were.

She could feel them, taste them, kiss them, lick them. And they licked, kissed, and tasted right back at her.

If that was what a brute force attack was, then she’d like more please. And soon.

“We’ll do something similar to Kimmi, of course. But the crème de la crème, that’s what I have in store for her next. You’ll love it, Kimmi. But not you Cyndi. You’d probably better step outside for this next bit, I’m afraid. Oh, go ahead. Just a squeeze though. God, you’re incorrigible. Careful with those clamps.”

Kimberly squealed as she felt Cynthia’s hands suddenly on her tits, pinching her nipples, caressing her mounds, squeezing her gently, lovingly, aching with need.

“Okay, darling, that’s enough. Step outside, and I’ll call you again when we’re finished.”

Day One: The process begins

Dr. Essenza turned Kimberly’s chair to face a large flat screen TV screen standing on a tall rolling metal shelf or high tabouret with metal cabinet doors. She opened the cabinet door, pulled out a DVD and stuck it into the back of the TV. She turned the TV on and pushed play, then paused the video.

“This is just a basic calibration. I’m sure you answered everything correctly on your forms sweetie, but we really need to make sure. This is just the first step. Once we get you calibrated, we’ll fine tune you.”

Two syringes lay on the tabouret, one filled with a bright pink fluid, the other with a paler, flatter pink fluid. Essenza held up a syringe with the bright pink fluid in it.

She sighed.

“We do like our pink in this company,” she lamented. “But this stuff works. It should do a number on you. Oh, don’t worry. It won’t actually change you. That comes later. What this will do, see, is heighten your senses, your reactions, your body’s natural reactions to what you see, heighten your body’s natural sexual reactions. That way we can get a clear measurement of your sexual desires, preferences, and quirks. I’m very technical.”

Kimberly grunted a muffled response.

“What’s that? No, it won’t throw our calculations off. That’s so sweet of you to worry about, honey, it really is, but no. What we’ll do is adjust our treatment to ensure the same heightened reaction in you. I mean, when the changes do come. That way your response to women, to other women when we turn you into a lesbian, will naturally be heightened. You won’t just have a normal, turned-on response to women. We’re going to give you an extremely turned-on reaction as your normal reaction, as your everyday response to seeing women. If that makes sense.”

Dr. Essenza paused, collecting her thoughts.

“It’s like this, see. What we’re going to do is make you naturally far more turned on by women than what you are currently by men. Now isn’t that something?”

Then Essenza stood over Kimberly’s left side, loosened the cuff holding her left arm, turned her wrist, held it down firmly against the pink enamel armrest, and poked her with the needle of the syringe, squeezing the pink liquid into her victim’s veins.

She replaced the syringe and picked up the second syringe.

“This is just a basic b-flat aphrodisiac. We need to get you as horny as hell.”

The doctor shot the pink aphrodisiac into Kimberly’s arm.

Then Dr. Essenza pushed play again, and Kimberly eyes were flooded with moving images of naked men, mostly young, mostly well-built, mostly well-endowed. But older men mixed in with the images, smaller penises, flaccid dicks, hairy chests, sloped shoulders and gray, balding heads. Soon she lost track of how long she sat there, watching naked men in increasingly sexual positions and stances parade before her eyes.

It wasn’t long before she felt the effects of that pink dose.

Adding to the medication, if you could call it that, were the clamps around her nipples and her labia, sending a continuous, low charge to her sensitive organs. She could feel her pussy get warmer, more engorged, growing red, excited and needy. Her nipples stood out from her modest breasts like steel rivets, hard and desperate to be rubbed, to be used, to be nibbled, licked, and bitten.

Her tongue ran over the round tip of the fake cock in her mouth. She yearned for a real one, yearned for the feeling and warmth of cum splattering against the roof of her mouth and down her throat. Kimberly groaned and whined. Every image of every man she saw inflamed her brain, igniting a fire in the nucleus accumbens, the amygdala, washing it in dopamine. The pink dose heightened her brain’s response, her nerves screamed, and her pussy grew wetter, hotter, raging.

By the time the video ended, she was urging her pelvis at an invisible partner, presumably one of the cocks she had seen in the videos.

She felt just on the verge of an orgasm, but something always held her back, kept her from it, the nodes clamped to her pussy teased her, mocked her, seemed to gauge the exact moment of her coming orgasm, and numbed her with something, she couldn’t quite define it. Something cold. A charge of cold electricity. It didn’t make any sense, but it kept her from coming repeatedly.

The video over, Dr. Essenza stopped it, ejected the DVD, and bent down to replace it inside the cabinet, taking her time in full view of Kimberly, who couldn’t help but gaze at the woman’s strong and powerful thighs and the bottom swell of her wide and opulent ass as the woman’s pink lab coat rode up along with her lovely dark skirt, an ass swaying side to side as the woman looked for and eventually found the perfect spot for her jewel case.

Kimberly’s vagina dripped, and drool spilled from both sides of her gagged mouth, and still Dr. Essenza remained bent over, her skirt and lab coat inching up slowly, unrelentingly, Kimberly’s eyes glued to the rising hem line, her fevered brain anticipating more skin, more. God is this how they did it, she wondered. Just got you so worked up you’d fuck anything and anyone? I’m so fucking horny. I can smell me. The whole room stinks of me, my need, my pussy. Her pelvis continued to thrust forward, inviting an absent cock, anyone, anything, to enter her. Kimberly’s eyes lingered on Essenza’s ass, the back of her thighs. The young woman groaned against her gag. Please, Dr. Essenza, she thought. Please. I need it. I need it so bad.

Finally Dr. Essenza did stand up. She turned around, strode over to Kimberly’s chair, and lifted a round, bucket-like device, large enough to go over a human head, off the metal table, the aluminum tabouret.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You don’t have to answer, I could tell just by looking at your pussy. You’re so wet, dear, aren’t you? You’re so very turned on, aren’t you, by all those men, all those gorgeous, naked men? Well, some of them weren’t so gorgeous, but they were all naked, weren’t they dear? You can just nod, I’ll understand. So naked. And you just go so turned on, didn’t you? So worked up and horny, and now you have to cum, don’t you? You’re pussy’s so wet. Is it hot? If I touch you there, will it burn me?”

Kimberly nodded and whined, urging her pelvis forward, up and down, in urgent thrusts.

“Not yet, dear. You’re not a lesbian yet. Good girls don’t let women fuck them if they’re not lesbians. Only lesbians do that.”

Essenza tilted Kimberly’s head forward, and carefully placed the bucket-like helmet over the girl’s head, avoiding damaging the pads or getting hung up on the wires. She left the cock gag in Kimberly’s mouth.

“Have you been sucking on that cock, honey? Good. Lots of dykes like to fuck girls with strap-ons, and you’ll need to get used to sucking on dildos. Although I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice there.”

Inside her helmet, Kimberly furled her brows. Well, yes and no. Plenty of practice with real cocks, yeah sure. But not with dildos. To tell the truth, she’d never used one. She never had to. Getting a boy came naturally to her, she never had a problem bringing a boy home or going to his house, even as a teenager. Well, yeah sure, she had a vibrator. But not a fake cock. That just seemed weird to her.

The doctor made adjustments to the helmet, to a keypad and a small cluster of tiny knobs on one side of the device. She zipped tight a flexible plastic band at the bottom of the helmet to seal Kimberly head and neck from her shoulders. Then she pulled down a flexible tube hanging just above the little station, a flexible tube with cone attached to the end. She hooked the cone over a protuberance at the back of the helmet. An air compressor whirred and Dr. Essenza checked the helmets gauges.

Then she dragged out a heavyish cable from the roller attached to the side of the aluminum tabouret. Cables ran from the tabouret along the floor behind the chair and up the legs of another rolling table station, a larger station, on the other side of Kimberly’s pink chair. She connected one end of the heavy cable to the top of the device, and one of three monitors standing on the larger metal table came to life. Kimberly Dew’s gagged face filled one monitor; another monitor showed what looked like an EKG. The third monitor showed a blank screen.

“Kimmi, can you hear me?”

The scientist heard a muffled response coming from within the confines of the helmet.

“Good. Now this part is kind of like the first part, but much more intense. It won’t be so boring for you as watching that video was. I’ve got your calibrations ready. Just what I expected of course, you’re so hot for men, I’d didn’t expect anything less. What we’re going to do here is fine tune your experience, so we can really drill down into the kind of man you like, the ones that really turn you on, the way they look, the way they smell, the way the feel and touch. It’ll be just like real life. Almost.”

She switched a large toggle on the chair, and the bucket began to hum and whirr. The third monitor lit up, filled with vague, shadowy images.

Kimberly closed her eyes, expecting to be able to shut out whatever it was that they were going to do to her, but her mind burst into images, scents, textures. All five of her senses sprang to life, absolutely overwhelmed by an orgy of male bodies, all of them clinging after her. Having spent the previous hour or hours, enduring unimaginable sexual tension, Kimberly, who seemed to be standing in the middle of a cushioned room, faltered and fell to her knees, then backward to her back, spreading her legs open to the male forms. She’d fuck them of course; she’d fuck them all.

And she did. For hours and hours, Kimberly endured every conceivable sexual assault, every conceivable sexual act, repeated over and over, again and again, until her body, covered in semen, shook like a frail leaf on a tree in November, yearning for a climax that never came, and still the sensations lasted, non-stop, without end. Time ceased to have meaning, Kimberly quit moaning, her body sagged limp in her chair, the area below her pelvis a wet pool of secretion, a secretion that kept pouring. Kimberly, no longer conscious, neither moved nor uttered a sound.

Dr. Essenza watched the monitor, the third monitor showing the events taking place in Kimberly’s brain. Man after man had climbed onto her body, and man after man had climbed off her body. Essenza had watched how Kimberly clung to the first dozen or so, wrapping them in her arms and legs, holding them tight against her. She had watched how Kimberly started to struggle, started to try to push the men off, how she had given up, how she had wept, how she had screamed out for release, for a release. How she slumped and went still. How the last man had pumped his seed and left.

Essenza checked the monitor showing her brain functions.

She had measured every type of man that Kimberly preferred, liked, desired. She had measured the exact moment Kimberly had had enough, the exact moment of her loss of consciousness. Dr. Essenza took notes of how her brain reacted to sex while unconscious, how her body reacted until it reacted no more. She measured the unseen reactions deep within Kimberly’s mind. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start.

A good start.

Well, she thought. That should about do it for today. She turned off the bucket helmet and called Cynthia. Then she began to remove the helmet, unzipping the seal, unhooking the cable, unhooking the air tube, and gently lifting the device off the prone figure’s head. Cynthia opened the door, saw Kimberly, stifled a cry and quickly swept to the prone girl.

“Is she? Is she?” Tears glittered in the assistant’s eyes.

“Of course not, darling. She’s perfectly fine. She just needs to wake up. Go ahead and put this on her. And careful with her pussy. She’s so charged up, she’ll cum if you so much as breathe on it. And I don’t want her coming. Not now. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe the day after. If she’s lucky and good, maybe the day after.”

Dr. Essenza held up another syringe.

“I’ll just give her this to keep her down. We’ll visit with her again tonight.”

Day One: Kimberly wakes up

Kimberly woke up in a strange bed in a strange room. Groggily she lifted herself up from her big, fluffy, soft pillows. She swung her feet with unexpected effort over the edge of the bed. Her legs seemed to be congealed together at the hips. Her head ached, and she clutched her forehead with her right hand, running her hand from her forehead to the top of her bare, bald skull.

Her hair was gone.

Memories of where she was and what had happened to her flooded her brain. She’d been kidnapped. Or close enough. Subjected to god only knew what kind of drugs. She couldn’t recall the experiment exactly, not after the video that crazy doctor showed her, all those naked men. But she remembered how horny it made her. She remembered a bucket going over her head, but the images and sensations that came after, those only returned faintly, vaguely, the merest echo of a bad memory.

God she was so horny now, she couldn’t take it.

She reached down to soothe her burning pussy, but her hand touched a cold plastic object. Looking down she saw a hard covering around her hips and groin, a kind of weird underwear made of thick plastic. She tried to move her groin inside the device, but the device had been fashioned to the restrict movement of limb, groin, and ass, keeping her nether regions from touching anything other than air inside. She couldn’t even move her legs independently.

Then she noticed what she’d been dressed in.

A thin, white, so diaphanous as to be transparent, a sheer, so sheer, babydoll.

Under which her hard nipples stuck out like round tacks.

She could clearly see the outlines of her breasts.

She saw a wheelchair at the foot of her bed. So that’s how they expected her to get around. Great. She couldn’t even play with herself. And god, she really needed to play with herself.

She wanted to panic, but that odd sense of relaxing peace returned, washing over her anxiety until she felt ready to face whatever fate this crazy place threw at her.

She looked the room over.

Her mouth dropped in disbelief.

The walls of the room were covered with almost every inch with framed posters under glass, posters of men, well-built, muscular men, in a variety of poses, all nude, cocks out, ready, hard, or almost hard, just waiting for Kimberly. She looked at the ceiling. Yep.

An almost life-sized figure of a handsome man, completely nude and holding onto his shaft, stared down at her. She would go to sleeping looking into his eyes, staring at the cock in his hand.

At least they gave her a pretty place to stay. Her single bed consisted of a wooden frame with a simple, tasteful head and foot, gently curved in a graceful arch. Here and there the paint, pink of course, wore thin, exposing the wood grain below. Shabby chic. A little out of fashion, but Kimmi, Kimberly, didn’t mind. Not at all. Kind of cute, really.

They did the whole room up in pinks and whites, with some soft yellows, pale blues, and subdued oranges mixed in to give life to the pinks and whites.

And as for the frilly pink and white bed covers with the fluffy pillows. Well, if it helped her sleep. Across the room, standing against the wall opposite her bed, stood a lovely white vanity dresser. On the wall on the far side of the room, opposite the door, hung a large flat screen television, turned off. Kimmi looked for a remote but didn’t see one.

And just in front of the television stood a short loveseat, in pink fabric with little red hearts dotting the material like the spots of a leopard’s hide.

A nightstand stood at the head of her bed, on top of which stood a bottle of that Pink Water, and a thick magazine. Thirsty, Kimberly relented her initial hesitation at drinking the stuff. She knew it did things to her. But gosh, was she thirsty!

Carefully shifting her body towards the head of the bed, she reached for the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and swallow a gulp of the Pink Water, smiling at the strawberry bubblegum flavor.

Ah, see. That wasn’t so bad was it, Kimmi? She thought to herself.

Kimberly.

She picked up the thick magazine. Great, she thought. More pornography. More naked men. Cocks hard and spurting. Her groin fluttered, she ached to touch herself. She stroked the palm of her left hand over the hard, plastic groin of the chastity device, groaning and cursing. Why wouldn’t they let her cum?

Just then the door opened, and Cynthia stepped through smiling, beaming. She saw Kimberly staring at the magazine and trying to play with herself through the thick plastic shield. Cynthia giggled.

“Boys, boys, boys,” she chirped. “You just can’t stop thinking about them, can you girl? I bet you really want to cum now, don’t you? I bet you want to cum so bad.”

Kimberly hurriedly put the magazine down as Cynthia wheeled the chair around to face her patient. Locking the wheels she held out her hands to Kimberly.

Kimberly had covered her breasts with one arm at the assistant’s entry into her room.

“Let me help you sweetie. It’s kind of super hard to move around in that thing. I just hated it. Just hated it. But you’ll see. It’s for your own good. I promise.”

“Where are we going?” Kimberly asked as she sat down, casting a grateful looking at the assistant in the tight pink scrubs, short platinum hair, and just the most striking makeup Kimberly had ever seen. That eyeshadow. How it shimmered!

And her lips. So pink.

“Dinner, honey. I bet you’re getting hungry. You’ll love it. You can meet all the girls here. But first I need to take you to the restroom. I bet you just have to go and go and go.”

“In this?” Kimberly tugged on her babydoll.

“Oh honey, you look so cute in that.”

Cynthia bent down to fit Kimberly’s bare feet with fluffy pink slippers.

“Our floors can get so cold.”

Then she winked at Kimberly.

“C’mon, you.”

Why not? Why the hell not? Kimberly thought, relaxing in the tingling warmth of the Pink Water.

Cynthia rolled her out of the room, the seat of the wheelchair cold and intrusive against the bare skin of her butt.

Day One: In the dining hall

The dining room whirled and resounded with life, laughter, and light-hearted conversation. Looking around her as Cynthia wheeled her into the dining room, Kimberly saw more assistants in pink outfits than patients, easily differentiated not just by their scanty uniforms, but by their happy, talkative, and very affectionate behavior. Assistants walked by arms around each other’s waists or hand in hand, head leaning on shoulder, stopping briefly to nuzzle one another’s neck, or to briefly lay a kiss below the other’s ear.

Hands drifted to legs, to bellies, to the chins and flushed cheeks of faces.

The patients themselves, fewer in number, sat alone, each at a single round table, each table more than six feet away from the other.

Only one patient occupied any one round table. Why?

Three or four assistants sat around that patient, soothing her, trying to engage her in conversation, offering her drinks, or helping her eat, or brushing the hair from her face. It seemed unusually solicitous, caring, and protective.

Affectionate even.

Kimberly counted six patients, and she recognized them all as the same women with whom she had sat in the waiting room, so long ago it seemed. To her surprise and annoyance, no other women wore the same blatantly exposing outfit as she did. No other patient openly wore such sheer lingerie.

But none of them could be described as wearing anything suitable for public wear.

And none of them could be described as fully awake, alert. All of them seemed to have been drugged. They nodded their heads in a stupor. They reached for items on the table with slow, clumsy, and heavy gestures, often knocking glasses down, or silverware off the tops of tables.

The assistants didn’t seem to mind at all.

Cynthia rolled Kimberly to a table already occupied by two other assistants, one large, full figured, her large and ponderous ass hung from below the hemmed legs of her pink shorts in feminine majesty, and her full breasts stretch the cotton fabric of her pink scrub top. She wore her long light brown hair in a long tail at the back of her head, tied by a pink Scrunchie at the occipital lobe. She moved with quick, graceful motions. She clasped her hands together in a genuine joy at seeing Kimberly’s approach.

“Oh my,” she cried out. “Cynthia didn’t lie about you. How are you, dear? Your Cynthia is so lucky to help you in your transformation. I mean, I’ll help of course, all the girls here will. At this table and the rest. But Cynthia has main duties, and I’m so jealous now. You’re just about the daintiest thing I’ve seen in a long time, and your head! Not a bump on it. Are you going to grow your hair back, honey, do you think? If not, don’t worry. You look absolutely stunning.”

The woman, several years older than Cynthia by Kimberly’s estimation, floated her remarkably soft hands over and over the surface of Kimberly’s baldness. Kimberly closed her eyes, basking in the attention.

This is weird, she thought. I should hate this. I should be jumping from my chair and running as fast as I can. But I’m not. I’m just sitting here letting this big woman pet me like a cat.

Then she felt a warm, wet kiss on the top of her head. Then another cheek, just behind her eye.

She felt lips brush against her ear.

“I’m going to fuck you until you pass out from cumming, girl. I really will. I’m going to make you into the biggest slut of a dyke, you sweet little thing, you’ll see. You’re going to love my pussy so much.”

The whispering paused. A feeling of nausea and disgust rose from the pit of Kimberly’s stomach, rising from her depths.

“And my asshole. God, you’re going love licking my asshole.”

The soft hand slipped under her nightshirt and caressed the apple of her left breast. Kimberly, already horny and now aroused by the Pink Water, let out a soft groan, despite her feeling of revulsion.

At that moment Cynthia playfully slapped the woman’s hand away.

“Now we have to wait, Regina. You know that. She’s not yet ready. Mistress wants to go a little slow. But it’s all right to talk to her and promise her things. Oh yeah, we get to talk to her. Tell her what we’re going to do and how much she’ll like it. It’s part of the process, you see baby, don’t you? She needs to show resistance for some reason. Oh god, yeah, right there, baby. Oh fuck. Yeah, right there.”

Kimberly looked up at Cynthia to see her assistant leaning her ass against the table while the other woman, Regina, faced her, nuzzling and kissing her neck and chin as she pumped her fingers in and out of the smaller and younger assistant’s snatch to the rhythm of Cynthia’s groans.

In her wheelchair, Kimberly sat eyelevel to the action, entranced at the sight of Regina’s large but feminine hand, delicate, soft, pressing her fingers into Cynthia, whose shorts had been moved aside, giving Kimberly a full view of her wet lips squirming against Regina’s hand. The scent of Cynthia’s aroused groin drifted over to the nearby patient.

Regina moved her pink mouth over Cynthia’s.

The sounds of their wet kissing filled the air around the small table. Both women now groaned and cooed into each other’s mouths.

Resistance.

Kimberly closed her eyes and imagined a strong man, pummeling her relentlessy, fucking her at the table in full view of the diners. It was so easy to do this, to replace the image of a man with the women she saw around her. The images came so easily, the feeling of a man, his hands, his body, came so easily to her.

God, she needed to get fucked.

“Isn’t it hot? Cynthia’s always like that, though. That girl can never get enough.”

The voice of the other assistant, a tallish, young black woman, athletic and lithe, broke through her thoughts, and Kimberly turned to meet the other assistant’s gaze. She found herself staring into deep brown wells, glittering with an impish bemusement. Sitting on the other side of the table, Kimberly took the opportunity to study her third assistant.

Her almond-shaped eyes, subtly turned up at the outer corners, sat cat-like above prominent cheek bones set wide over her brown, almost mocha face. Her nose ran in a not-quite-straight slope to the broad point of her nostrils, under which her full lips, layered in a bright and shiny pink, curved into a warm and welcoming smile, slightly parted to show a glimpse of beautiful white teeth. The stunning woman’s face ended in another soft and broad point of her chin, producing a face that was at once heart-shaped and round. And entirely feline in appearance.

She braided her hair into many narrow rows which swept along the curve of her head until separating into two long braids which fell on either side of her neck in front of her prominent breasts, which Kimberly gauged to be slightly larger than her own B-cups.

“I’m Q’ieshay. With a Q. And then an apostrophe.”

Q’ieshay’s brows furled just a little, then relaxed.

“My mother’s an artist,” she said in explanation.

Another silence, broken only by the sighs of the two women embracing at the table and the squishes of wet fingers sliding between the folds of wet labia, descended momentarily on the small table.

“Regina’s right you know. You’re just about the daintiest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to try you.”

Q’ieshay’s low, almost tenor voice rolled over the top of the table, matter-of-fact and unquestioning.

Resistance.

The table vibrated and bumped, and Kimberly saw Q’ieshay close her beautiful maroon eyes, her hands now below the table as she slumped in her seat, obviously masturbating to the sounds of Regina and Cynthia. Kimberly looked around the dining hall, but no one seemed to notice. Each group of assistants at each table busied themselves with the care of their own patient, and each patient seemed to be stuck in some nowhere land between waking and sleeping.

“God, oh god, oh god, women are so hot, so sexy. Don’t you just love them?”

Q’ieshay had opened her eyes again, her hands still caressing her groin below the table as she gazed at Cynthia’s back. Regina had slipped the younger girl’s short below her hips, her pussy and ass was on full display as Regina wrapped her left arm around the girl’s waist, holding her against her as she quickened her pace, sliding her long fingers in and out, in and out of the trembling girl’s pussy.

“Just look at them. Beautiful women.”

But Kimberly closed her eyes again. She moved her hand below the hem of her sheer nightshirt but met the hard plastic of the chastity garment. She tried to slip her hands over the top of the device, but the waist was curiously devised to impede all entrance. In desperation she moved her hands over the groin of the garment to no effect. Nor could she move her fingers below the edges of the leg holes. She wouldn’t even be able to slide a thin object between her legs.

Tears of frustration leaked from the corners of Kimberly’s eyes as she imagined man after man, boy after boy, having their way with her.

Curiously, whenever Q’ieshay said woman, a vision of a handsome man loomed up in Kimberly’s imagination, and when she saw Regina hand-fucking the girl Cynthia, a man fucking a woman, fucking Kimberly formed in her mind’s eye.

Resistance, Kimberly repeated. This is how I’ll resist. No matter what they do, no matter what they say, I’ll imagine a man. Every time I see a woman, I’ll imagine a man. No matter what they say or what they do to me. They won’t change me. They can’t change me.

You just can’t change people like that.

You just can’t turn a woman into a dyke.

After all, what is it that Katy calls me? Boy-crazy. That’s me. I’m boy-crazy.

Q’ieshay saw Kimberly trying to rub herself and smiled.

“You’re pretty horny, huh? That first session really makes a girl horny. You should try to get used to it. You won’t be able to cum for several days, I expect.”

Kimberly groaned.

Day One: At night

They did finally manage to eat. After a vehement orgasm, Cynthia and Regina washed their hands at a washing station nearby, wandered into the food service area, and brought back two trays loaded with food. Famished, Kimberly devoured sandwiches, chips, two cookies, and a brownie, washing everything down with the ubiquitous Pink Water. She knew it harmed her ability to resist. But the stuff was just too good, and she was so thirsty.

They’d shown her the day room that day, after lunch. A bright room, windows all along one wall opening out on a courtyard, where patients strolled with their assistants in the warm weather, under the shade of a large cottonwood tree. Curved stoned benches dotted the courtyard here and there.

Two large televisions hung from the ceiling in two corners of the day room. To Kimberly’s surprise, the screens displayed soft lesbian erotica, nothing too outrageous, women strolling arm in arm with other women along a beach, pausing to kiss passionately, or women wearing lingerie in a bedroom, kissing and caressing each other. A low murmur of kissing and sighing floated from the televisions over the room. Assistants in tight pink shorts and scrub tops darted to and fro, caring for their charges.

The room had two billiard tables, several small couches, chairs, tables, a snack area.

Images and paintings of lesbian erotica covered the walls. Girls leaning into girls, holding each other from behind, squeezing each other around their waists, cupping each other’s breasts, embracing bosom to bosom in fervent kisses, smiling faces side by side and cheek to dainty cheek.

Kimberly noticed the young woman she’d seen in the waiting room, the one in with tattoos who flipped her off. She was sitting in a wheelchair.

She wasn’t wearing jeans now.

Or a T-shirt.

She wore a short camisole night shirt in a light pink satin, showing her midriff. A pair of thin, loose fitting pink satin bootie shorts completed the outfit.

The girl, somewhat taller and larger than Kimberly, fleshier, with breasts slightly larger than Kimberly’s stared at the world around her in a stupefied gaze. Her nipples protruded from the fabric of the nightshirt, kept hard by her caretakers who flicked and touched her tits and nipples constantly.

Her black hair was gone.

Her mohawk was gone.

In its place, golden blond hair that fell in a short cut to about two or three inches above where her neck joined her shoulders.

Her piercings were gone.

Her black makeup was gone, replaced by bright pink lipstick, glittering blue eyeshadow, foundation and concealer which gave her face a sharp, vivid outline. But her eyelids drooped, and her pink lips opened in a stunned, numbed expression of absence.

Cynthia leaned over her and whispered.

“Oh, do you like Kiera, dear? I know, isn’t she cute? But she won’t be part of your, our, program dear. I’m afraid you won’t be able to try her out. Unless you meet her on the outside. After your transition.”

Kimberly shuddered.

That night Dr. Carla Essenza came into her room to check on her, take measurements, and put her to bed.

Essenza personally prepared her bed, sliding the soft bed cover, a light duvet, pale pink in color, along with the top sheet, white with darker pink stripes, made of very fine and soft cotton imported from Nubo-Egypt.

Kimberly hadn’t noticed the flat panel behind her the head of her bed. Dr. Essenza pushed a button on the wall beside the light switch, and the panel quietly slid open, revealing another headpiece for Kimberly, much smaller than the bucket which went around her whole head that day.

“We’ll have another nightie for you to wear tomorrow,” the doctor said. “I suppose the one you’re wearing is starting to feel dingy?”

“But why do I have to wear a nightie at all? I mean, isn’t it silly? Wearing a babydoll all day long?”

Kimberly, aware that she sounded like a whining child, tried to wear a coldly logical expression.

“No, dear. It isn’t. You look positively adorable in it. We all just love seeing you like this. And don’t pout, darling. Now lie back.”

Kimberly lay back, resting her head face up on the pillow Dr. Essenza had just finished fluffing for her.

“But how long do I have to wear this thing?”

Kimberly pointed at the chastity device.

“Oh, a long time. For several days yet, I imagine. It’s for your own good dear. We don’t want you to orgasm.”

“But why not? I’m so horny now, if you got to know. I haven’t had an orgasm for two days now. Not since the day before yesterday.”

Kimberly surprised herself by being so communicative, so blunt, with Dr. Carla Essenza.

“Oh, you won’t be able to orgasm until you’re ready to become a lesbian, dear. Here, raise your head a little, Kimmi. This cap will help you to become one.”

“But I don’t want to become one.” This time she didn’t try to disguise the whine.

“Well, I mean. That’s the whole point, love.”

Essenza fit the cap, attached to wires running into the opened panel behind Kimmi’s head, carefully over the girl’s head. A narrow belt encircled the cap. Dr. Essenza assured a snug fit, leaned over and kissed the girl on the tip of her nose.

“You’ll see, dear. Tonight will be so much better than this awful morning.”

Then the doctor pushed a button inside the panel, and Kimmi fell asleep, instantly lost to the waking world.

Kimberly herself wouldn’t have been able to say she fell asleep. She just knew that the strange woman kissed her on the nose and turned off the light. Well, she knew something must have happened because she found herself in a bedroom, her bedroom, sharing her bed with an incredible looking hunk of man, perfectly muscled, jutting chin, a chiseled body in every way. And his cock. Oh my, his cock.

She must have spent hours exploring every inch of his body with her hands, her fingers, her mouth, her needy pussy. He hammered her, and she shoved her cunt back at him. He stuck that magnificent tool in her face, and she sucked him off wildly, squealing between shots of cum flowing from her mouth and down her throat. And when that man left, another took his place, and then another. And then another.

Always a different man, always one at a time. And was it her imagination? Every cock was somehow smaller, just a fraction smaller than the previous, every man not quite as burly as the one before.

Maybe.

She couldn’t really be sure.

Oh but she still bucked against them, missionary style, cowgirl style, reverse cowgirl, doggie position, and positions she didn’t even have a name for. Pelvis thrown high above her head as she leaned her shoulders against the mattress, the man just fucking her relentlessly above her, her knees at the sides of her head.

One after another.

Dr. Essenza was right, though. This time it was much better. She was in control, she knew that. This was not that merciless violation of the morning. She could stop them any time. She could take a break, walk away, have a drink of cold water.

But she didn’t want to stop.

She hadn’t cum yet.

Man after man had poured out his love upon her quivering body, and still she had not cum. Covered in semen, her bed covered with sticky semen, some of it drying after a long night of running a train on every conceivable body type, all gorgeous, all increasingly frail, soft, yielding.

She finally woke up, exhausted, spent, sore even. And horny as hell.

Not even the glimmer of an orgasm had reached her.

Frustrated, she pulled off her babydoll.

Cynthia stood in front of her. Holding out a new, clean see-through camisole nightshirt, with a frilly lace front, pink naturally but quite charming.

Cynthia giggled.

“I just love your titties.”

“Um,” said Kimberly.

Resist.

Before sitting her down in her wheelchair, Cynthia retrieved a syringe from the panel in the wall, a syringe filled with the same pink serum as the day before, tapped Kimberly’s left arm, and stuck the sharp needle into her vein, depressing the pump to fill her with the intoxicating and bizarre aphrodisiac, if that’s what it was.

Kimberly’s body reacted immediately, zinging and tingling with a lust and horniness that never really dissipated in the first place.

Kimberly looked at all the nude men on the posters in her room and smiled bitterly to herself. If they wouldn’t let her come, what good did all those nude men do?

Day Four

The next three days passed almost exactly like the first, with slight variations. There was no repeat of the violent or almost violent suffering she had undergone during the first session. Also, she’d begun to wear that strange cap every day. Cynthia carefully detached it from its wires, put attached a small black box to the side of it, and fit it over Kimberly’s head.

“That way we can record everything,” she said brightly.

Then she’d stick her with that needle.

The assistants fondled her at every opportunity, and Kimberly closed her eyes to imagine men fondling her.

The sessions under the helmet were longer and longer, the sex more vivid, more sensual, softer. Somehow even more emotional, deeper.

It was slow.

Kimberly really didn’t notice it at first.

How the men themselves changed over the course of the sessions.

It wasn’t obvious. The difference between, say a linebacker and a quarterback. Nothing you could put your finger on. Just slight differences.

But her sex drive was amped up.

Whatever it was that Dr. Essenza shot into her every session did a number on her. She fucked and she fucked and she fucked, desperate to have those men, as real to her now as anything in external, actual reality. She sucked, she threw her pussy at those men, they licked her, devoured her cunt, her snatch, her hot and scalding pussy, jack-hammered her sloppy cunt silly, and still. Still. Still, she did not cum.

An orgasm, always on the edge of exploding, hovered on the edge of her losing it, like a gray storm cloud on the horizon of a desert and drought-ravaged land, mocking the inhabitants with the promise of rain.

She’d fuck the bedframe with her hips covered in that damned chastity thing, impervious to jarring wood, her eyes flitting from framed poster of nude man to frame poster of nude man, eyes sweeping over chiseled torso, rippled abs, and swollen cock. She searched for anything, anything to slip between her skin and that brutal device, a ruler, and a pencil, anything to scratch that remorseless itch.

But that itch remained unscratched.

Nothing penetrated that shield.

And those damned posters drove her crazy.

She’d begun to recognize them as some of the men in her bucket experiences.

She spent mornings crying and screaming, weeping in the arms of Cynthia, or Regina, or Q’ieshay, promising to do anything to them, anything, if they would just take that damn thing off and let her cum. But the assistants shook their sad heads and said wait. Soon.

And then they touched her some more, kissing her breasts, her nipples, running soft hands over and over her smooth legs, her belly, her shoulders, her cheeks, caressing her face, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her temples, her neck, finally kissing her lips.

Resist.

She resisted, of course, recoiling in revulsion from the touches, their soft caresses. But she was so horny. Those shots made her so horny.

She wanted to cum, and those touches, those kisses felt so damned good, and what was the harm anyway, what was so wrong with being bi?

Her lips parted, and she let their tongues in, imagining the mouths and kisses of the men she’d dreamed about or had in her life, her boy-crazy life before she’d ever come her, before her friend Katy took her to this awful place.

That last morning, at breakfast, she broke. She let their tongues in.

She kissed back, desperate and hungry for physical contact and affection.

And just before she could lift her hands to caress their breasts, to touch their legs, to squeeze their arms, or even lightly trace her fingers over their hands, they broke away and said wait.

Wait.

“It’s time for the next session, silly,” Cynthia announced.

“And anyway,” Regina added, “you’re just horny. You’d fuck or kiss anything. It’s not like you’re really a lesbian.”

“And you need to be a lesbian, Kimmi,” said Q’ieshay. “In order to have sex with lesbians. And you don’t want that, right? You don’t want sex with lesbians, you’d never want to have sex with lesbians.”

Kimmi groaned.

No, she agreed. She’d never want that.

Day Four: Last session

That last morning session with the bucket occurred with both Q’ieshay and Cynthia as Dr. Essenza’s assistant.

The session consisted almost entirely of sucking cocks.

Kimberly, on her knees, her face pressed closed the man’s groin, her arms around his waist, holding onto the cheeks of his hard, tight ass. The first cock was so long, so thick, she could barely deep-throat it, but somehow she managed. Her mouth never tired, her jaws never ached, as shot after shot, load after load, of hot cum flowed down her throat, or out of her mouth, pouring in cascades down the front of her opened negligee.

That’s what they had for her that morning.

They didn’t even bother to tie the loose strings in front. When she tried to tie them, they laughingly slapped her hands away.

“No, no, silly girl. We want to see you.”

So they saw her.

Hot cum rolled down her tits, covering her hard nipples, sticking at her skin, her bare skin, drying on the sheer fabric of her negligee.

One thing she liked about these sessions is that that terrible chastity device vanished. She’d get to stroke her pussy over and over again, as she did so now, fingers in her cunt as she continued to blow guy after guy.

To no effect, of course. She couldn’t cum.

But it felt good to touch her pussy. Her pussy felt so nice, so warm, wet, and comfortable. So slippery and yielding. So warm. So hot. Her pussy felt so hot.

But her terrible horniness had not even peaked. Even in the bucket she could feel it, especially in the bucket she felt it. She cried out in desperation against every cock jammed into her face.

Senses heightened to pure sexual frenzy and excitement, she renewed her oral assault on endless chain of male organs.

Then her jaw did begin to ache, but thankfully, the cocks were smaller now. Their girths were nowhere nearly as wide or thick as those first dozen or so dicks.

But she loved them all the same, mewling and whining as she stroked her pussy, glad of her fingers in her hot and dripping snatch.

Finally she sucked the last cock, giggling in a kind of sad derision around its length, if you could call it a length. Poor man, poor virtual, digital man, with such a puny two-inch cock. But I love it. I love it all the same. She giggled around the head as a spew of cum filled her mouth. She swallowed all of it as she felt someone unclasp the hose and cable from the bucket and loosen the seal around her neck and shoulders.

Moments later she breathed in the free air of the lab, yellow and pink butterflies, birds, and dragonflies flittering on the pink walls.

The first thing she noticed was that Regina had joined the lab crew.

She stood a few feet in front of her, in front of Kimmberly’s pink enamel chair, a few feet from her feet, stark naked. Behind the woman was a small armchair, in a pale sky-blue velvet.

The second thing she noticed was Cynthia and Q’ieshay on each side of her, unfastening the torture device from her hips and removing it gently, gently, from her pelvis.

Her pussy gaped and spasmed in the free air, and she cried out in blissful relief.

“Does that feel better, Kimmi?” asked Cynthia. “Isn’t it better to have that nasty thing off?”

Kimmi nodded gratefully.

“You’re such a sweet girl, you’ve really been such a darling little girl, we’re going to give you a reprieve. Even though, you bad little cruel little thing, you won’t become a lesbian for us.”

Resistance. She could resist. She liked boys. She liked cock. She liked men. If her experience in the bucket told her anything, it was how much like she sexually desired men.

Regina spoke up.

“We mean a real lesbian. Not just a horny little girl looking for a quick thrill.”

Kimmi shook her no.

“A woman who needs, desires, and wants other women,” Regina continued, “their bodies, their smiles, their humor, their laughter, their playfulness. That’s not it, is it, Kimmi? You’re not a dyke, are you?”

Kimmi shook her head no again.

Cynthia piped in.

“But we’re going to let you cum, anyway. We’re going to let you have an orgasm, baby. Dr. Essenza says we get to.”

Tears welled up in Kimmi’s grateful eyes. Soon, please. I need it. I need it so bad.

She’d touch herself now, but her arms and legs were cuffed to the pink enamel chair.

Cynthia bent down to whisper loudly in Kimmi’s ear.

“Between you and me, we probably would have sneaked in an orgasm today anyway, rules be damned. You just look so pitiful.”

Dr. Carla Essenza spoke up.

“We need to take a measurement, sweetie. To really gauge your brain and make sure we get everything correct in the second round. This orgasm of yours, the big one that you’re about to have, is really going to be your downfall, you see. It’s what’s going to make you a lesbian. Not instantly, of course not, that’s not what this procedure does. But slowly, deeply, we’re going to make this life change in you. And that begins with your next orgasm. Now doesn’t that just sound wonderful?”

Kimmi, Kimberly, shook her head.

No it didn’t. It didn’t sound wonderful.

These people were absolutely crazy. All they did was show her pictures of naked men, make her hallucinate about fucking one man after another, about sucking one cock after another. And sure, maybe all that kissing and feeling and touching the assistants constantly did to her, maybe that felt good, but only because she was so fucking horny.

So no, becoming a lezzie didn’t sound possible, much less wonderful.

But that promised orgasm did.

Dr. Essenza stood behind Kimmi and fit the monitor cap over her bare head.

“Well, it will. I promise you that. It will.”

Cynthia spoke in a gentle, instructive voice to Kimmi.

“Okay, Kimmi. Here’s what we want you to do. I know you’re super horny, but in order for us to give you an orgasm, you’re going to have to look straight ahead at Regina. You’re just going to have to keep your eyes on that hot, sexy body the whole time. You absolutely can’t look away.

“If you look away, the deal’s off. No orgasm. And I want you to look her all over. Not just her beautiful face. I want your eyes to roam that sexy body of hers, she just oozes sex, doesn’t she, she’s so beautiful, so hot, so gorgeous.

“I want you to look at her mound, the way her pussy just hides between her legs like that, isn’t that lovely, when the pussy’s just tucked in, and all you can see are maybe the swollen, puffy lips? I want your eyes to caress her breasts, god they’re so full and touchable, aren’t they?

“I want you to look at her nipples, her hips, her thighs, legs, calves, feet, ankles, neck, her gorgeous hair. I want you to imagine pouring kiss after kiss on her kind and lovely face.

“You can do that, can’t you sweetie? Imagine kissing her with your hands holding both sides of her head, your fingers running through her silky soft hair?”

While she was talking, Kimmi kept her eyes on Regina the whole time, half-hypnotized, half-delirious with the need to cum. God, her body sizzled with heat, with the need to cum, and cum hard.

And Regina, feeling and seeing Kimmi’s eyes feasting upon her, turned and posed, showing the sides of her thighs, the luxurious expanse of her wide ass, the back of her thighs, the slope of her shoulders front and back, the whole of her Renaissance woman’s form.

Q’ieshay and Cynthia moved their hands lightly over Kimmi’s body, touching the tops of her thighs, caressing her calves, the sides of her ass and hips, along her belly and waist, her breasts, her nipples, caressing her neck and shoulders with the back of their hands. They petted and fondled her relentlessly. Kimmi’s body trembled, shook, and shuddered at their touch.

Cynthia caught Q’ieshay’s glance, gesturing for her to look at the girl’s groin. Her lips, swollen and dark, glimmered with lubrication, secretions flowed from the girl’s vagina, saturation the pink seat of her chair.

The hands slid all over the poor girl’s body as she jerked and contorted against her restraints. Cynthia and Q’ieshay lightly touched the hard nipples of her exposed breasts, and Kimmi groaned.

They moved their hands to the insides of her thighs, so close, so tantalizing close to her lips, her swollen, wet lips, above which her clitoris jutted hard and avid her hood.

“Please,” she begged, “touch me there, I’m so close, I’m so close. Please touch me. Please touch my pussy.”

“Keep looking at Regina, baby. Devour her with your eyes, your greedy dyke eyes.”

“I am. I am looking. I am looking at her.”

“Is she sexy? Do you think she’s sexy?”

“Oh, god. Please.”

“Is she sexy? Do you like her breasts, her body, her hips?”

“Please touch me?”

“Tell me she’s sexy.”

“Oh god, she’s sexy, she’s so fucking sexy. Just touch me please.”

The two assistants unfastened the restraints on Kimmi’s arms, holding them firmly lest the young woman touch herself.

“You first, Kimmi. Touch us first.”

Kimberly hesitated. She wouldn’t do that. She’d never do that. She turned her head to plead with Cynthia.

“Don’t look away,” Cynthia cautioned, soft but in a warning tone. “If you look away from Regina, we’ll have to put that horrible plastic diaper back on you.”

Kimmi’s head quickly darted back to look at Regina, now sitting in her chair, rubbing her breasts, smiling lasciviously at the poor girl. Regina slowly ran the tip of her pink tongue across her round, sensual pink lips. She winked at Kimmi.

“Wink back at her, Kimmi,” Q’ieshay said. “When a girl flirts with you, you have to flirt back.”

Oh god.

She’s a boy, she thought to herself. Think of her as a boy, and you can get through this.

“Or we can stop right now.”

Q’ieshay’s voice had a flat finality entirely lacking in Cynthia’s voice, who truth to tell, saw no reason to do any of this. Why couldn’t they just let her fuck the adorable Kimmi? She was ready for it. Cynthia knew a ready girl when she saw one.

“Don’t make us stop doing this,” Cynthia said, almost begging.

Dr. Essenza eyed Cynthia closely. That poor assistant was at the breaking point. She walked around the chair behind Kimmi’s head and stood behind the assistant, lightly squeezing her ass and then embracing her with one arm around the waist. She learned into her assistant’s ear and whispered.

“You can do this, baby. I know you can do this. You can be strong for just a little longer, can’t you? This really is important, the test needs this so bad. So fucking bad. She’ll break soon. I promise. And then she’ll be all yours. She’ll be all of ours. Won’t you like that, you sweet little girl?”

Cynthia nodded her head, staring at Kimmi’s soaked pussy.

“Look at Regina’s cunt, Kimmi. See? She’s spreading her legs wide for you. But you have to wink back at her. You really do.”

Cripes. She could do this. She could wink at the woman. She could blow kisses at her if it meant getting that orgasm.

Kimmi winked at Regina.

“Lick your lips like she did. Regina likes that. Regina likes her lesbian lovers to lick their lips.”

Kimmi paused.

What the hell?

She licked her lips and winked again at Regina.

Then she looked between the woman’s spread legs.

Regina’s puffy lips were so full, so wet, and so inviting as the woman parted her labia with her fingers and pushed her middle fingers inside, up to the first knuckle.

Meanwhile, both Cynthia and Q’ieshay brought Kimmi’s hands to their bodies, holding her palms flat against their inner thighs.

“We can’t do everything,” Cynthia explained.

“If you want us to touch, Kimmi, then you have to touch us. And you have to start. You have to show us how much you want it, how much you need it. How much you need us to touch you.”

“And how much you need to feel us,” Q’ieshay added.

“Just look at my pussy, baby,” Regina cooed gently, lovingly. “Just look at me fingering myself, and you’ll know what to do. Loving a woman is easy.”

Cynthia and Q’ieshay’s skin were so soft, so warm. Their thighs were so muscular and powerful, but smooth and yielding. Not like the men she’d been with, but like her own legs when she’d shave them or idly rub her thighs, scratch an itch on her calves.

God, she was so horny now. A pool of secretion formed between her legs, a warm, hot, pool of secretion and pussy juice. Kimmi stared at Regina’s pussy as the woman urged her finger inside her, moving her hand in an in-and-out, up-and-down, circular motion around the valley of her womanhood.

She needed this so bad. Kimmi needed this so bad.

Kimmi licked her lips again, staring at Regina stroking herself, how the lips of her pussy wrapped around another finger. Regina now fucked herself with two fingers.

“You want it baby, don’t you? You want my pussy so bad.”

Kimmi didn’t respond. What was there to say?

She felt her hands almost of their own volition rise up along the inner thighs of both women standing on either side of her. Their skin was so soft and warm. And her hands went higher. The heat of their groins intensified. She felt moisture trickling down Cynthia’s leg, her thighs trembled under Kimmi’s touch, but Q’ieshay remained still, passive, waiting.

Then she felt both women touching her thighs, moving upwards towards her waiting cunt.

“Keep going girl, you’re almost there.”

Cynthia’s sweet voice rolled over Kimmi’s mind.

She was touching the cleft between their legs now, any further and she’d be touching their vaginas, their pussies. She’d be touching a woman’s cunt and she’d be doing it to get hot, to cum, to fuck.

She tried to imagine a man but couldn’t.

Resist.

Why?

And then she tipped her fingers into the wet lips of her assistants and closed her mind to resistance.

She needed this.

She needed this more than she needed anything in her life.

She pushed her fingers inside both women at the same time, feeling something close to disgust, to revulsion, but a disgust laced with excitement, tinged with lust. God she was so horny.

Almost at the same time the two women slipped their fingers inside Kimmi.

Kimmi shuddered at the sensation, almost cumming. Something held her back.

A feeling of reluctance, shame even.

It’s just like touching myself she thought. Their fingers are my fingers, and their pussies are my pussy. It’s like I’m fucking myself with someone else’s fingers.

This thought relaxed her, allowed her to keep going, despite her initial distaste. Her excitement grew.

“That’s it, baby,” whispered Q’ieshay. “It’s so good, isn’t it? Touching a woman’s most intimate place, a place you know so well?”

Kimmi stared at Regina as she plunged her hands into Cynthia, into Q’ieshay.

She could feel her orgasm rising. With all her waiting, after so many days in that damned device, wearing that damned plastic chastity device, she knew it wouldn’t take long.

God, these girls knew what they were doing though.

They kept her at the edge of a hurricane as the storm rage and howled just beyond her reach. Her body trembled in the winds on the fringes of the storm, a tree beginning to and longing to break.

“Fuck us good, baby. Look at sweet Regina fuck herself. And do us just like that.”

Kimmi had two fingers now in each woman, her hand hot and wet from their secretions, the juices flowing free from both women now, Q’ieshay now no longer stoically withholding her pleasure but squirming and shaking into Kimmi’s hand.

Q’ieshay encouraged her.

“That’s right, girl. You know how to do it.”

Her two assistants fingered her more rapidly now.

“Touch our clits with your thumb.”

Kimmi flicked her thumbs over the two hard clits.

Q’ieshay and Cynthia moaned.

Regina spread her legs wider. And Kimmi continued staring at her pussy, eyes wide and transfixed now.

“Okay, girls,” said Dr. Essenza. “I’ve got good readings now. The poor girl can cum now.”

Kimmi exploded.

“But keep doing us, okay girl? Keep looking at Regina as you fuck us, okay? Make us come too. You can do it. I know you can do it.”

And Kimmi did.

Picking her speed, grateful and excited beyond measure, delirious and eager after her orgasm, and so grateful, so very, very grateful, she quickened her pace on both cunts, determined to give these women the pleasure they gave her. Suddenly she saw Regina stiffen.

The robust woman screamed and jerked into her hand, fucking herself with four fingers as she ground her cumming cunt against her hand. She leaned forward, doubling over in exquisite pleasure, groaning, pressing her thighs together. Slowly the woman stood up and moved towards the young woman prostrate on her chair.

Regina slipped behind Q’ieshay, squeezing her affectionately as she passed. She loomed over Kimmi, holding out her wet and sticky hand which only moments before had been palm deep in her quivering, spasming cunt.

Kimmi didn’t have to be told what to do.

“Taste me,” Regina said, but Kimmi already had her mouth open.

Regina slipped her hand inside Kimmi’s eager mouth.

“You like it don’t you? You like the taste of my pussy?”

Kimmi nodded, sucking on all of Regina’s fingers.

“So close,” she said. “You’re so close now.”

Kimmi didn’t care.

Days 5 thru 7

They gave Kimmi three more orgasms, Cynthia going so far as to orally pleasure the girl, not quite following protocol, but Dr. Essenza didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

It wouldn’t throw off the measurements, and that was the important thing.

Kimmi lay in a daze as Cynthia and Q’ieshay retrieved the chastity device and began to replace it over the shattered girl’s hips.

“What?” she cried out. “No!”

“But we have to, sweetie. We’ve only gotten to the first part of your process. There’s still a bit more that needs to be done to you.”

“That’s right, honey. You’re not really a lesbian yet. You just got yourself off on women, because we were there, and you needed it so bad. But you would’ve preferred boys.”

That last sentence was said in such an injured tone that Kimmi wanted to apologize. She did.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m that way. I mean. If I were queer, if I were a dyke, then god, this would have been, I mean, I don’t think I would ever want it to stop. But I’m not. I’m just not.”

“We know,” said Regina. “But you will be.”

Kimmi didn’t respond this time when she heard that. She still didn’t see how they could make her into a lesbian. But if anyone could, they could, she thought. They could turn any girl queer. She was sure of that much.

The chastity device clasped shut, locked against any intrusion.

“But how much longer?” Kimmi whined.

Dr. Essenza spoke up.

“Probably a few more days. The rest of the week, I’m afraid. Then you should be good to go.”

“Then I’ll be a queer girl?”

“No, not quite. But well on your way to being one.”

The next three days followed the same pattern as that day.

Syringe in the morning, cap at night, sheer lingerie in the morning. Wheelchair to the dining hall. Fondling, touching, kissing.

Bucket throughout the day, more men, more tiresome men, fucking her in every conceivable position, thrusting into her holes, her mouth, her pussy, her asshole, with stop, without let-up. They came over and over again, till her body was covered in semen. Then the bucket was taken off, and she’d stare at Q’ieshay’s beautiful black body, or Cynthia’s gorgeous white body, or Regina’s luxurious voluptuosity, as each girl masturbated her to multiple orgasms. She’d finger them until they came, and she’d suck on her fingers, and then on their fingers, learning to love the taste and texture of the juices, the fluids, the secretions from the heart of womanhood.

They’d fondle and touch her throughout the day, and Kimmi fondled and touched back, delighting in the curve of the bodies, their skin, the heat of their groins. She began to kiss them as they kissed her, inserting her tongue into their mouths, sucking on their chins, their lips, nibbling their ear lobes, nuzzling. Cuddling.

But she couldn’t cum. She couldn’t have an orgasm, and the chastity device stayed on, driving her mad. She quit looking at the men in her room, closed her eyes against their intrusion, and gained whatever pleasure she could from the gentle caresses of her three assistants.

She grew to love the soft and yielding touch of femininity.

And she loved being around them. Just being around them.

They joked constantly, smiled, ribbed each other, did small favors for one another, gave small impromptu gifts. Sometimes they were moody and irritable. Sometimes Kimmi wondered what she did wrong. But the moods would pass, and Kimmi.

Three days after her first orgasm, Cynthia wheeled Kimmi to the lab, fastened her to her chair. Dr. Essenza put the bucket over her head.

Cynthia tore her hands away from Kimmi’s body regretfully, assuming Dr. Essenza would want her to stop caressing and fondling the girl.

“Oh, keep going, Cyndi. It really will be helpful if you play with her during this part. You might as well take that thing off too. We won’t be needing it anymore. Not after today.”

Cynthia hurriedly removed the device, and palmed Kimmi’s exposed vulva, caressing it until the girl’s groin, soaked, dripped over the assistant’s hand.

Kimmi knelt on a cushion in the middle of a non-descript room. Her thin negligee, little more than a thin gauze that didn’t even hang to her mound, hung on either side of her exposed breasts, lacking even string to tie the two sides together. She saw a line of men, all nude, forming in front of her. By now she knew what was going to happen. Another blow job immersion.

The first man had a modest cock, which she swiftly sucked to orgasm. A modest amount of male cum spurted into her mouth. She didn’t swallow it, letting it drip down her chin and onto her chest. Another man took his place, cock swinging, ready to be sucked. Kimmi sighed. Couldn’t they find another program?

Even the pink shots they had given her that morning failed to get her excited for this procedure. She was so used to it now. So used to sucking dick. Not that she didn’t feel horny. She did, and Cynthia fondling her pussy during the procedure didn’t help. Somehow, she could feel it. Somehow, she knew Cynthia was feeling her pussy, touching her, fingering her. She felt a sense of gratitude for the assistant, keeping her going during this boring procedure.

It was strange though.

Usually the external world completely disappeared, leaving her immersed in a, well, she supposed virtual reality whose reality, whose actuality could not be distinguished from the real thing. Still, she couldn’t complain. Cynthia had quickly become her favorite, with Regina and Q’ieshay rounding an equal and close second place.

They drove her crazy.

She was just crazy about them, really.

But the cock in front of her wasn’t going to go away on its own volition, and she leaned forward, opened her mouth, and took the cock between her lips, sucking expertly and bringing the cock to orgasm in moments. The cum spurted. It seemed paler and thinner somehow.

And on and on and on it went.

Then she noticed it. Unmistakably and undeniably, the cocks shrank. At first, she thought it must be some fluke of their process, but after the fourth cock, no more than four inches, she understood that they had built this, um, shrinkage deliberately into the program.

After the twentieth man, the cocks were no more than an inch.

And then less.

The men, too, became less masculine.

Their legs, limbs, and skin became softer, rounder.

When Kimmi reached behind them to caress or hold their asses, she found round, yielding flesh. Like the flesh of Cynthia, or of Q’ieshay, or of Regina, whom she had just that morning felt for the first time. Really felt, eager to touch and to feel, so grateful, so appreciative of everything they had done for her that week. Had it only been a week?

It seemed longer.

The last cock, no more than a nub, trembled rock hard in Kimmi’s mouth. She kissed and nibbled around the smooth flesh of the nub, glad that this man had a shaved groin. Saliva poured out of her mouth, and his groin grew moist, wet, warm, reminiscent of Cynthia, or Regina, or Q’ieshay. His testicles were smooth, warm, inviting. They seemed to part as she licked around them, making way for her insistent tongue. She covered his nub and bizarre testicles with her mouth and moved her hands around his hips to cup his ass and shove his hot, wet groin hard against her mouth.

He had such a slender body for a man, his hips curved outward, and when she gazed up at him, his chest seemed to swell out almost womanly. His face had delicate, feminine features. Cat-like. Feline.

When he reached down to hold her head, his fingers were long and delicate, slender. His nails were long and polished, pink.

He groaned, a high-pitched plaintive mewling as he came inside her mouth, saturating his entire groin with fluid. She had to press her mouth against his groin to capture the fluid, it seemed to flow rather than spurt. She nibbled at the nub of his cock, her lower jaw pressed against the man’s mound, and Kimmi ran her tongue over the entire region of his groin to capture a fluid that tasted more like Regina’s hand after fucking herself than semen.

Kimmi couldn’t explain it, and somehow her mind turned off her curiosity. She just accepted it. The man’s groin changed as she continued to lick him, the testicles withdrew into the skin, and she urged her tongue to follow. With each lap of her tongue, the skin around the man’s groin changed. Kimmi found herself almost carving labia into the man’s groin with her mouth, licking the labia into shape, the man’s hips widened and swelled, she looked up, and swell breasts welling up from the man’s chest, and her feminine face became more feminine, and Kimmi knew a changed had come, and the man had become woman.

But still she licked, hungrily devouring the pussy in front of her, driven by an inexplicably need, and a rising arousal saturated her mind, sending her body into the grip of a lust, a sexual frenzy she had never experienced before. Her mind seemed charged with a desire to drive this woman into another orgasm, the lips of her hot cunt pulsated around her tongue. Kimmi reached her left hand back to stroke herself, dipping her fingers into her boiling soaked pussy. She felt an orgasm coming, and she knew this time, this time she would cum. They would let her cum, with her mouth on a pussy, delicious pussy, they would let her cum.

And she did.

Crying out inside her bucket she came, and she came, and she came.

Then the bucket came off and Kimmi saw Cynthia between her spread legs. Kimmi watched her hips buckle and thrust into the assistant’s mouth. Cynthia raised her eyes to gaze at Kimmi. She raised her mouth off Kimmi’s cunt.

“You’re so close. You’re so close now, aren’t you Kimmi?”

She was.

She was so close.

Just a little longer.

Dr. Essenza explains rest of procedure

Dr. Essenza stepped forward.

“We’ve taken all the measurements we need. Of course, we already had everything we needed after the first three days. These last three days, the days after your orgasm, we’ve spent subtly altering your brain. Getting you prepared, so to speak. I must say, I don’t think your resistance did any good at all. We couldn’t see, and Serena agrees with my findings, that it had any marked effect whatsoever. We were able to change you just as quickly as anybody else with this method.

“You see, don’t you, that it’s not over? We have a few days left. Nights, really. We’ll be using the night cap. But essentially our work is done. If we let you go now, you’ll probably go back to boys. I’m quite sure of it. But you’ll always have a thing for girls. You’re permanently changed in that regard.

“But that’s not good enough, I’m afraid. We need to complete your change. And that’s what the next sessions will be about. We’ll do it mostly at night now. You won’t be using the bucket.

“What we did, see, is collect every recording of your experiences with men, men of every body type to begin with, then we narrowed it down to your preferences. Now we’re going to replace those experiences with women. What we’ll do is systematically replace every stimulus with that of a woman, and then we’ll add the appropriate response. And because we have so many women here, we’ll just record your real-life sessions, and rewire your brain during the night. I hope that makes sense.

“That’s why we wanted you to resist, see. We needed to get every reaction.” Dr. Essenza lifted a syringe from the tabouret at her side, filled with the pale pink fluid.

“We’ll just shoot you full of concentrated, um, serum. We need to get you horny enough to fuck anything. Cause all you’ll be fucking is girls from here on out. And that will help with our rewiring, we’ll know exactly how to rewire you.

“And in real life, so that will be better. We included that last little bit in the bucket to get you to lick pussy. Now that you know you like it, you greedy little whore, you’ll be getting a lot more of it.”

And with those words, Essenza stuck the needle in a pushed the plunger down.

In her bedroom, coming to terms

Cynthia walked an unsteady and horny Kimmi to her bedroom. The girl, weak and trembling from so many days spent in the wheelchair, leaned against her assistant, gaining strength and confidence with each new faltering step. At least they reached her room.

“Well, here we are. I’m just going to leave you here for a while. Feel free to play with yourself, baby. It’s super good for you, and I know how much you like to cum.”

“Are you coming in with me?”

“That’s so sweet of you, it really is, but I have some other projects to check on before I can come back to visit with you. But don’t worry! I’ll bring Regina and Q’ieshay with me! We’ll have so much fun!”

Kimmi entered a different room from the one she had left that morning. Gone were the posters of men. A flat screen TV hung on the wall facing the bed from across the room. The TV was on, showing two women on a bed, slowly making soft love to each other. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, coming from small speakers set into the walls near the ceiling. Images and pictures of women pleasuring themselves or other women covered the walls, and the sounds. A long table stood beside her bed, covered with dildos, vibrators, anal rings, gels, and assorted lotions. A bottle of Pink Water stood ready for her to open and drink.

Arousal flooded Kimmi’s body.

She threw herself on her bed, rolled on her back, spread her legs, and plunged her fingers into her burning twat, consumed the sight and sounds of the women kissing and fucking each other on the flat screen in front of her. God, they sounded so hot, and she need to cum so bad.

So bad.

She looked up and grimaced.

An incredibly life-like and life-sized framed poster of a woman lying on her back, barely dressed in skimpy, frilly lingerie, her trimmed pussy exposed, revealed in all her glory, met her eyes. Her full breasts lay flat on her chest, falling away to the side, and the woman’s eyes were almost rolled into the back of her head in ecstasy. She had two fingers inside her wet, pink snatch. A tuft of blond hair ran in a narrow, trimmed triangle above her mound.

Oh, god, they’re really going to do it. And I don’t know if I want to fight it.

Resist.

She reached for a dildo, brought the tip to the opening of her love box, bit her lip, and plunged, lifting her hips and throwing her head and shoulders back into the pink fluffy pillows.She closed her eyes and brought the dildo just to the opening of her pussy, then inserted it again deeply between her puffy wet lips, moving in slow motions in and out, listening to the sounds of women pleasuring each other, lesbians having sex, hot lesbians sucking each other’s pussies.

She conjured men to her mind. Her favorite body types, nude, muscular men with hard, raging cocks spoiling for a hole. But they all soon transformed into women, changing shapes, hair, size, bodies, organs. The cocks vanished, replaced by hot, steamy pussies.

Kimmi’s eyes flung open, beholding the naked woman above her.

Oh god, Kimmi thought to herself. She continued to look up.

She’s so gorgeous.

But I’m not that way.

Yet, she thought. Not that way, yet. It’s only a matter of time.

They’re going to get to me, I have to acknowledge that.

They made her so horny all the time, they touched her so much, and she touched them back, and she liked, licked, liked licking that pussy, that strange man-woman’s pussy in the bucket.

She couldn’t deny that.

She still liked men, though. She felt it inside her, her boy-craziness, just waiting to get out, and somehow, somehow subdued.

She tried holding on to that, holding onto her boy-craziness, but it receded into the background of her mind as she continued staring at the ceiling.

She imagined the woman above her caressing her, like Cynthia caressed her, or kissing her forcefully, like Regina kissed her, or cupping her ass while fucking her cunt with her fingers, like Q’ieshay fucked her cunt with her fingers, that day they gave her those sweet, sweet orgasms.

It’s going to happen anyway, so I might as well keep myself busy.

Katy gets a phone call

Katy’s phone vibrated loudly against the glass. She picked it up off the coffee table, saw the number, and answered.

“Hi, this is Katy.”

“Um, hi, Miss Dawson. It’s Britney. From the clinic. I’m just calling to let you know that everything is going just fine with Kimmi, Kimberly, and we’re ready for that package. If you could get us some samples in the next day or two, we can begin, um, customizing Miss Dew.”

A wicked thrill shot through Katy’s spine.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I should be able to get you some samples by tomorrow.”

She’d anticipated this and already made plans with her cousin. This should work out perfectly.

Smiling and satisfied with herself, she pushed the red end call button and called her cousin.

It wouldn’t be easy, she’d have to be sneaky, but she could do it. She could get it to the clinic tomorrow.

Course, that meant she’d have to see Britney again.

Night with Q’ieshay

Kimmi had come hard to the sounds of the lesbian lovemaking while staring at the naked body of the woman above her, her eyes flitting from mound to breasts to her sweet face, taking in the whole view of the woman as she thrust the dildo into her rocking pussy.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she kept repeating as her groin twitched in an orgasmic seizure against the intruder phallus. Her eyes were fixed on the woman’s open twat, into which the woman had shoved two fingers.

Slowly she withdrew the purple dildo. Someone tapped on her door and entered. Kimmi turned her head to see Q’ieshay stepping through the open door. Kimmi’s heart skipped, and she caught her breath. The assistant wore a sheer nightgown with long sleeves with frilly, furry cuffs. The gown hung just above the lower half moons of her dark, delightful ass. Her breasts hung loose beneath the thin robe, and the woman clearly wore no panties.

Kimmi watched the young woman’s breasts jiggle loose and free beneath the gown. Q’ieshay’s hair, rising high over her head before rolling, unbraided, in dark, luxurious, curly waves to her shoulders. Her lips glistened with bright pink. A bright purple, glimmering eyeshadow brought out her dark maroon eyes. Natural toned blush and foundation highlighted the prominence of her cheeks, making her feline face even more cat-like in appearance.

Q’ieshay noticed Kimmi’s dildo immediately. Seeing the lubrication of Kimmi’s pussy covering the surface of the artificial cock, she slid over to the side of the bed, reached over Kimmi’s body, and took the object from the girl’s startled hands.

“It’s so wonderful to see you starting to give in to us, baby. You won’t believe how beautiful it is to see your growth. You just won’t believe how wonderful everything will be for you.”

She brought the wet dildo to Kimmi’s lips.

“Open your mouth and taste,” she said.

Kimmi hesitated, closing her mouth fast against the long object.

“Don’t pull back now, baby. Not when you’re so ready to go on. Taste yourself.”

Kimmi’s mouth opened, her lips barely parting, and Q’ieshay slipped the tip into the girl, who stared at Q’ieshay in alarm.

“Don’t be afraid. I bet you taste delicious.”

Kimmi closed her eyes as she began to greedily suck her juices of the synthetic cock, making a kind of humming, mewing sound as she did so. The taste of the woman in the bucket came back to her, so good, so sweet. Her pussy tasted so good, so sweet.

Like all pussies, she suddenly thought.

Q’ieshay smiled.

Her right hand crossed the chest and belly of the young woman, travelling towards her saturated center. Her long fingers spread Kimmi’s lips, and she slipped her two middle fingers into her snatch, still very warm, hot, and very wet, ready for more, ready to be brought to another sweet, sweet climax. Q’ieshay felt Kimmi’s soft labia, wide and flaring, soft and smooth and slippery with vaginal secretions from her orgasm just moments earlier.

She brought her fingers back to her mouth and tasted Kimmi’s tart and subtly sweet fluids.

“So good,” she sighed into Kimmi’s ear, leaning forward to kiss the side of her mouth as she fucked Kimmi’s mouth with the dildo in her left hand. She trailed a path of light kisses along the girl’s face, nuzzling her nose against her ear, kissing her temple, her forward, licking the top of her bald skull. A fine bristle of hair had begun to grow back.

“Such a beautiful lesbian,” Q’ieshay whispered into Kimmi’s ear.

Kimmi nodded and moaned.

Who cares? They’re going to do what they’re going to do anyway, and they drive me so crazy. I’ll be their fucking dyke. I’ll be their little lezzie slut. For now at least.

Q’ieshay gently removed the dildo from Kimmi’s protesting lips.

“But,” she whined.

“Sh,” the assistant said, “let’s go sit down and watch some movies. I know some that will really help with your training.”

She guided Kimmi off her bed, helping the young woman stand, carefully removing Kimmi’s cap. Suddenly Q’ieshay embraced Kimmi, pulling her body tight against her own, and running her hands over Kimmi’s soft back, feeling her shoulder blades, trailing her fingertips down her spine, and caressing the small curve of the dainty girl’s ass.

The black woman stood several inches taller than Kimmi. Bending her neck, Q’ieshay nuzzled her nose against Kimmi’s nose, laughed, and then kissed the girl firmly on the mouth. Kimmi’s lips parted immediately, allowing the woman’s tongue to enter her mouth. Kimmi had learned to appreciate kissing Q’ieshay. All three girls had already kissed her so much, so often, between bucket sessions, dining, recreation in the day room. Wearing the device and being so horny, she had easily given in to their caresses, their touches, their soft lips.

Q’ieshay kissed her with rich, full lips, her large mouth invited Kimmi’s tongue, Kimmi’s lips. Q’ieshay bit Kimmi’s lower lip, and Kimmi squealed. Then Q’ieshay pressed her lips against Kimmi’s open mouth. Kimmi’s tongue, fervid, tangled with her caretaker’s tongue. Kimmi’s heart raced in her chest. She almost melted when Q’ieshay raised her right hand to cup Kimmi’s breast in her firm, warm hand, soft and irresistible, pinching Kimmi’s nipple to an extraordinary hardness.

“Oh,” Kimmie breathed into Q’ieshay’s mouth.

Finally, the black girl broke her kiss.

“Baby, I’m going to make you feel so good, but first you need to watch a woman pleasure another woman.”

Q’ieshay led a trembling Kimmi, heart fluttering madly behind her ribs, to the small loveseat facing the television screen on which two women, in a classic position, simultaneously pleasured each other orally.

Q’ieshay sat down and spread her legs, her twat neatly trimmed, a triangle-shaped that of soft, black, kinky fur grew above mound, pointing to the treasure below. Q’ieshay turned Kimmi around and pulled her to sit between her legs, ass and back against Q’ieshay’s lithe athletic body, curiously hard and soft at the same time, so unlike the jocks Kimmi had loved to fuck.

The caretaker pulled Kimmi’s legs wide, setting each thigh over hers so while she held Kimmi’s groin with the palm of her right hand, her left hand groping the girl’s breast, continuing to flick the nipple, pinching it, and pulling it, stretching the girl’s breast painfully, indecently. Q’ieshay nibbled on the girl’s ear lope, whispering.

“You’re so wet, baby, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you honey, so wet for your baby Q’ieshay. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Just look at those girls now, just look at them eating each other. You know what it’s like to eat a girl out now, don’t you? At least kind of. We’ll be doing that tonight, baby. I’m going to cum all over your face tonight, all over. And you’ll get to cum over mine.”

Kimmi whimpered and wriggled in Q’ieshay’s lap.

The women switched position on the screen.

Now one of them, a black woman, fuller figured than Q’ieshay, sensual, voluptuous, dark and beautiful, her face wide, round, and glowing, lay back against the pillows on her bed, spreading her powerful thighs wide, while a white blond haired girl, her hair gorgeous, long, and golden, crouched between her legs, and covered the dark folds of the black woman’s ebony rose, her fingers opening the pale pink bud, with the painted red lips of her opened mouth, tongue extended to taste the exquisite flower.

“It’s so good isn’t it, baby?”

Kimmi nodded slightly, eyes fixed on the feast in front of her.

Q’ieshay stroked the hot, tumescent lips of the girl’s soaked cunt, extended and eager, sails opened to the winds of Q’ieshay’s lust. One finger went in, followed closely by a second, knuckle deep, then deeper, exploring the moist cavern of Kimmi’s sex into the depths of the girl’s being.

Kimmi shuddered, lost track of time, entranced by the images and sounds coming from the screen in front of her, the blond woman’s mouth on the black woman’s cunt, the legs spread wide, the blonde’s ass high in the air, ass and labia exposed, revealed, ready. Her eyes touched every part of both woman’s bodies, an avid, insatiable desire and need to see, to look, to gaze upon. Q’ieshay continued nibbling her lobes, kissing her neck, moving her right hand from one breast to another, stroking her belly from navel to rib, and Kimmi groaned.

It was so good, it was so good now.

Is this what it was to be a lesbian, is this what it was to love a woman, to be loved by a woman?

She closed her eyes, tried thinking about the men, the boys, she had been with, but the images she conjured were ghosts, pale wraiths dissipating with a whine in the gusts of Kimmi’s erotic storm.

Q’ieshay plunged a third finger into Kimmi’s flowing channel, magma hot and quaking in her hands. With her left hand she turned Kimmi’s head forcefully away from the porn playing on the screen, kissing her with loud, sloppy kisses, licking her from neck to chin, hand squeezing her neck, Kimmi’s delicate neck. Q’ieshay opened her mouth wide, covered Kimmi’s chin, sucking it with hard, quick motions.

“Open your mouth.”

Kimmi opened her mouth, and Q’ieshay spit into it.

“Swallow my spit.”

Kimmi swallowed.

“Good girl.”

Q’ieshay jerked Kimmi’s head back to the front.

The black woman on the screen now straddled the blonde’s head, her knees on either side of the woman’s face as the blonde lay on her back, ravenously sucking the pussy smashed up against her mouth. The blonde’s white hands held the dark flesh of the woman’s ass, then moved up to caress, to hold, to feel her lover’s breasts, her tits, pinching her nipples and pulling them from her body as the woman, the dark woman, thrust her pelvis into her blond lover’s face, gyrating in the throes of a terrible orgasm.

Kimmi watched in awe as a gush of fluid poured from the woman’s twitching cunt, saturating and overflowing the golden woman’s red mouth.

“So pretty, so hot.”

Did Q’ieshay say that, or did Kimmi?

Then Kimmi stiffened, Q’ieshay’s relentless fingers brought her to the verge of an orgasm. Kimmi caught her breath, waiting. Then her lover pushed her over.

Moments later, she felt Q’ieshay’s hands on her shoulder, pushing her off the loveseat, turning her to kneel on the floor. Q’ieshay spread her thighs wide and slapped her mound.

Moving her hand behind Kimmi’s head, she forcibly pushed the girl’s face into her cunt.

“You know what to do,” she said, “and I’ve waited so long for this. Just start licking me, and I’ll let you know how to do it right. I know you’re going to love it. I can just tell you’re the kind of girl who loves to eat pussy, right?”

Kimmi nodded.

She did. She did love to eat pussy. Somehow it sounded so. Right.

The aphrodisiac from the pink serum coursed and raged through her system.

At least for tonight.

Kimmi inhaled the pungent of Q’ieshay’s groin, splendid and intoxicating. When her tongue met the inner lips of Q’ieshay’s vulva, hot, saturated by now with the secretions of the caretaker’s excitement, lust, and desire, Kimmi knew her world had changed.

So good, so sweet, so wonderful.

More than the taste itself, at once tangy and sweet, the very texture, soft, wet, slippery, yielding, entranced the girl. Exploring the long flow of her vagina from the beginning of her ass to the top of the mons, beyond which rolled the dark thatch of her bush.

“You go right for the center, girl, and that’s good, that’s so good, that’s so sweet of you, but take your time, baby, take your time to taste me. Take your time to smell and touch me with your tongue. You can do it. Kiss my thighs, close to my pussy. Kiss the sides of my cunt, kiss me there, and touch me with your tongue.”

Under Q’ieshay’s guidance, Kimmi explored the valley of her caretaker’s groin, she kissed and nibbled and licked, slowly, softly, the sweet spot between her vulva and her thighs, feeling how the woman trembled above her. So much power, so much strength, so much power and strength here, she thought, so wonderful.

I’m like this, too. I’m just like Q’ieshay.

She found, tickled, teased the clitoris and heard Q’ieshay, so reserved, so strong, whine with a high-pitched lamentation of the sweetest agony.

“Yeah, there. There, oh yeah, there.”

And there is where Kimmi stayed, touching and flicking the tip of her tongue in a rapid blaze.

“Put your fingers in me, baby. Don’t be afraid. Fuck me with your fingers, I want to feel you inside me, sweet thing.”

Kimmi put the index finger of her left into the hot lava of Q’ieshay’s pussy. Then another.

Recalling how she liked to play with herself, how she liked to hook a finger just over the muscle below the mons while stimulating her clit with the rest of her finger. She turned her hand over, palm up, and continued sucking and licking Q’ieshay’s clitoris, which hardened and extended.

Kimmi giggled to herself.

We do it too.

Not long afterwards, Q’ieshay’s hips spasmed, her body contorted, and the woman jammed Kimmi’s face against her charged cunt.

“Cover me with your mouth and suck that clit,” she said. “I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum all over your face.”

A guttural primitive groan escaped from the depths of Q’ieshay’s throat, and she came, true to her hard, all over Kimmi’s face.

Kimmi learned so much that night, explored every inch of Q’ieshay’s body, learned new positions, holding one on the loveseat with her other foot on the floor while ramming her pussy into Q’ieshay’s mouth below. She lay on the floor, back against the loveseat, while Q’ieshay licked her into another orgasm. Q’ieshay made Kimmi lie on her back while shay lay on top of her, hip to mouth, hip to mouth, so that both girls could eat each other out, cunningly coaxing each other to another orgasm while sighing, moaning, humming their own heightened pleasure into the steaming, dripping pussy over their mouths.

Eventually, the two rolled over on their sides, each girls thrusting her groin at the other’s face, intoxicated with lust, melting into the sensual loving heat of the other.

When the session finally ended, Kimmi, spent, exhausted, and led back to her bed, poured thankful kiss after thankful kiss on Q’ieshay’s sweet face.

“Oh, god,” she said. “I love you. I just love so much, Q’ieshay.”

A tap on the door announced the arrival of Dr. Essenza.

Q’ieshay kissed Kimmi one last time, embraced Dr. Essenza, kissed her fully on the mouth in a long, passionate kiss, and left, nodding to her boss.

“She loves me, Dr. Essenza.”

Dr. Essenza looked at Kimmi and smiled happily.

“That’s so nice of you, sweetie. I just knew you had it in you.

Katy walked up to the receptionist’s counter. Britney, her platinum hair cropped short in a high flat top, beamed at her approach.

“Miss Dawson,” she burst out, winking at the girl, “it’s so wonderful to see you again. I hear that Kimmi’s progress is really going well. I didn’t have any doubts you know, but sometimes these things can take longer. Miss Dew didn’t seem to have any trouble at all adapting to our process. She’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Britney held up a small bottle of some pink liquid.

“Would you like to try our Pink Water?”

“Um, sure.”

Katy took the bottle from the receptionist and put it in her purse. Then she handed another bag, a small gift bag, and passed it to Britney, who opened the top, brought it to her face, and took a long, deep inhale.

“Oh, these should work perfectly. Very fresh. I’ll get these to Dr. Essenza asap.”

“Thank you,” said Katy.

“Sure thing, honey. Don’t be a stranger.”

Another wink. Katy watched Britney’s hand go to the third button of her white blouse, unbuttoning it.

She shook her head.

This place, she thought, this crazy place.

Dr. Essenza fit the cap over Kimmi’s head.

“You’re probably exhausted, you poor thing. All that sex with Q’ieshay. And you being straight. It couldn’t have been easy. But you’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

“You mean I’m not a queer girl yet?”

A worried tone colored Kimmi’s question.

“No, of course not. Not yet. You’d still fuck a boy if you could. But you will be. Soon. Just be patient.”

Essenza pushed the button in the panel, and Kimmi went out.

The doctor kissed the girl on the forehead, brushed her knuckles lightly across her cheeks, and quietly slipped out the door.

“Good night, sweet princess.”

The night passed long for Kimmi, and when she finally awoke, she felt somehow different. Her dreams were restless, exciting, strange (bizarre even), and she furled her brows trying to remember them. But all she remembered were women. Bits and pieces of the came to her throughout the day, as Cynthia, Q’ieshay, and Regina flirted with, now openly caressing her between her thighs, which she parted for them, allowing them to insert their fingers into her groin, loving their attention, reveling in it, delightedly kissing them back, kissing their breasts, their nipples, sucking on her secretions from their fingers.

Those men in her dreams, in the bucket sessions. They had faded, some of them she couldn’t recall at all. She only knew that at one time she had experienced such a thing, such men, but she no longer remembered them. She remembered the women, though. She remembered that most of her experience in the bucket entailed women, how she had spent all last week in a virtual immersion of sex with women. It seemed so natural.

And when she tried to think of a particular man, the image and form of a woman would appear. Blond for blonde, brunet for brunette, middle-aged for middle-aged, thick for thick, athletic for athletic, hard for soft. Yes. Hard for soft, those soft bodies, how she loved them.

She continued to wear the cap during the day, the nodes inside the cap taking measurements, gauging every reaction, reading every though of her mind.

They spent more time in the day room, sessions with Dr. Essenza simply consisted of measurements, questions about her dreams, her experience with her caretakers, and some fondling.

Dr. Essenza loved to fondle Kimmi’s breasts.

They really were just so, well, super adorable.

And she let Kimmi touch her own formidable bosom.

Night with Regina

That next night, the night after learning how to eat a girl out, Kimmi’s door opened to Regina, dressed only in a light violet nightie, a cami with spaghetti straps and deep neckline, with a hemline just below her midriff. She held a pink plastic bottle in her left hand, along with a short, black strap. Kimmi thought it might be shampoo. Fluffy, pink slippers complete with bunny ears, covered her feet. But that’s not what captured Kimmi’s attention.

A thick, long purple dildo pitched and dangled from her hips, poking lewdly from her groin, attached to her pelvis by black leather straps running around her thick waist, her fleshy thighs, and between the crack of her round, wide, and lubricious ass.

The image of Regina pacing the halls of The Diana Group in that outfit brought a wry smile to Kimmi’s face. Kimmi herself was dressed in nothing but a short fishnet halter top, barely covering her apples.

“What?” asked Regina guardedly.

“Nothing. It’s just that. You look so.”

“What?” Regina asked suspiciously.

“Wonderful.”

“I’ll show you wonderful.”

Regina pushed the girl towards her bed, ripping the cap off her shaven head.

“We’re not going to watch porn?”

Standing behind her, she jerked Kimmi’s head back, and fastened the black strap around her neck. It was a collar. My god, she’s making me wear a collar. Kimmi gulped.

Regina shook her head.

“Hm hm. Tonight baby, we’re going to be porn.”

Nonetheless, the flat screen continued to show women enjoying their bodies with one another, their sighing moans filled the room. Kimmi had already cum several times watching them. So hot. So good. So gay.

Regina, roughly, with deliberate forceful movements, positioned Kimmi on her hands in knees on the bed, which creaked beneath their movements. Regina poured a pink lubrication over the dildo and spread some, none too gently, over Kimmi’s displayed mound. Then she held the bottle upside down and squeezed several globs of pink lubrication over Kimmi’s ass, smearing it with a mounting excitement over the young woman’s charming, so charming, ass now shining bright with lotion, and spreading it with her right hand between the girl’s ass cheeks, deep into the crack of her ass, over the ring and rosebud of her anus.

“Tonight I’m going to fuck you in both holes. I’ll start with your pussy. I’m going to make you cum girl. I’m going to make you cum till you forget about all those naughty little boys. Cause that’s what they’ll be after I’m through with you. Just naughty little boys who have no business trying to satisfy a slut like you.”

And with those words, Regina shoved the tip of the dildo, globose and surprisingly soft and yielding, into Kimmi’s waiting hole, moisture of arousal already forming around her lips.

Kimmi grunted.

This is good, she thought. I’ve done this before.

But it still felt strange. The cock wasn’t cold, but it lacked the warmth of a man’s cock. It felt harder, less alive, if that made sense. But the coldness of the dildo soon went away as Regina urged it deeper and deeper into her.

It’s certainly longer and bigger than most cocks I’ve had. And that’s kind of nice, she thought.

But Regina’s hands on her hips, holding just above her ass as the she shoved the strap-on phallus deep into Kimmi felt, well, good. Really good.

The thought of a woman fucking her sent more waves of arousal through Kimmi’s body and mind.

This is it, she thought. I’m getting fucked by a woman. A woman is fucking me, and it feels so right.

On her own Kimmi began to rock backwards onto Regina’s cock.

A wave of emotions flooded Kimmi. Fear lots of fear, fear giving way to

joy, arousal, communion, relief, then more fear, anxiety over the future, over what she now recognized as a life change, sadness. How many times had she gone out, left Katy behind, gone clubbing, gone to a club with Katy only to leave Katy stranded, gone away with a boy, a mere boy?

But that wasn’t it, no, not exactly. How many times had she missed out on this, or just missed out on being with Katy, or being with all her friends, how many friends had she lost through negligence, carelessness, unable or unwilling to give the time and attention necessary to grow strong bonds?

Closer.

How much had been lost by not sharing this experience, this wonderful womanhood?

Bingo.

She could see herself now.

Giving and giving and giving, handing her body, her heart over to women, all women, any woman.

The dildo went deeper and deeper, and Regina bottomed out. Kimmi felt the soft mass of Regina’s hips against her tiny backside, felt Regina lean over her, her breasts on her shoulders, the flesh of her belly against the small of her back, and it felt so good, so comforting, so safe.

Safe.

Regina bit her earlobe sharply.

“Ready?”

Kimmi breathed in Regina’s smell, her scent, her aroma, the smell of woman’s shampoo, her perfume, worn that day, still rose from her body, the stink of her arms under the scent of her deodorant, the luxurious stink of her pits.

“Hm hm.”

Regina rose back to stand on her knees behind the girl, suddenly letting go an astonishing burst of speed and power, hammering Kimmi’s pitiful cunt with blow after rapid blow of her purple dildo, mostly short strokes tap, tap, tapping the girl’s ass before pulling more than half-way to deliver a stronger, solid thrust into the trembling, groaning girl.

And Regina groaned too.

Kimmi heard her. Mewling like a lost kitten herself, Kimmi listened to Regina above her.

Regina’s groans came gruffly from the depths of her chest, mixed with a strange sound that delighted the aroused Kimmi. A weird, almost sobbing sound, as if an agony were mixed with sex, with love, a pleading for more and release at the same time rising from the stout woman, a grief beyond expression, a grief knowing it’s time for relief were drawing near, a grief whose turn at happiness, at bliss had come at last, at last.

“Uh, uh, hye-eah, hye-eah,” Regina grunted softly, quietly, almost with restraint above Kimmi, now shuddering with an oncoming orgasm she knew would be large, powerful, and overwhelming.

Her whole body tensed for it, her toes curled, her knees tightened, sweat poured from her temples, her breasts, her thighs, mixing with lubrication, secretions from her pounded cunt. She felt it rising from her groin, from her pussy, a rich orgasm beyond anything she had ever known.

Regina sent a sudden flurry of deep thrusts into her, and Kimmi came.

Over and over again, making sounds she’d never made before, a sob, a cry, a grunt, growl, a deep growl from her depths, a deep growling, weeping orgasm, a climax of such utter intensity she pushed herself off Regina’s cock, and turned over on her back, then on her side, and trembled, shuddered, quaked from foot to head. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and heaving exhales escaped from her lungs, mixing with her sobs of pleasure.

“Wait till I do your ass,” Regina said, stroking the girl’s calves and thighs, squeezing her feet, and pinching the big toe of her right foot between her thumb and forefinger.

Kimmi rested in bed after Regina left.

Her ass felt used and sore, a good kind of sore. She looked at the ruins of her ravaged pussy, lips extended and loose, her vagina still gaped wide. She had cum so much, so much tonight. Regina had fucked her repeatedly after that massive orgasm, fucked her until she screamed, fucked her ass while Kimmi flicked her clit over and over again, hot, thrilled, burning.

She tried so many positions, and when Regina turned her over to fuck her missionary style, she flung her legs over her shoulders, pummeling her to another brutal climax.

Kimmi loved it. She loved to see Regina fuck her like that, to treat her like a rag doll, a sex doll, loved being on her back to watch the stout woman beat that fat cock into her, her tits wobbling and shaking, glistening with sweat, her hips thrusting and jerking into her. Regina’s long brown hair, free from her ponytail, hung loose, wild, and full over her neck and shoulders, and when she leaned over to kiss Kimmi deeply as she fucked her, her tongue twirling around Kimmi’s tongue, her hair fell on all sides around Kimmi’s face, a soft, silky soft tent of beautiful brown hair.

“Do you?” Regina asked.

“Do I what?” Kimmi responded, breathlessly.

“Do you love me? Do you love me too?”

Regina pounded Kimmi faster and faster, hard and deep.

“Oh god, Regina. Yes. Yes, I love you too.”

“Good girl.”

Regina’s wide face with her flat, wide chin hovered just inches above Kimmi’s lips.

“Open your mouth.”

Kimmi heard the order, remembered last night with Q’ieshay, and rebelled, feeling a sudden revulsion for what she’d already done so far.

My god, I’m not going to swallow some girl’s spit.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Kimmi’s lips tightened, and she shook her head.

No.

Regina brought the palm of her right hand down hard and brisk against Kimmi’s face. The slap was sharp and painful.

“There’s more of that, girl, if you don’t open your mouth.”

Her cheek burned, and she could feel it turning red where Regina slapped.

She slowly opened her mouth, and Regina leaned in close, dribbling globs of saliva into Kimmi’s orifice.

“Don’t swallow,” Regina warned. “Stick out your tongue.”

Kimmi held out her tongue, long enough to extend almost two inches, with her mouth open invitation to Regina.

Regina wrapped her lips around Kimmi’s wet tongue, so warm now, and sucked greedily, noisily slurping the organ while kneading Kimmi’s right tit with her hand. Kimmi murmured and moaned at the sensations flowing through her, so good, so nice, so hot. She continued pummeling her pussy with her long, thick cock.

Regina pulled away from Kimmi’s face.

“Does that feel good, baby? Does my hard cock feel good in your hot pussy?”

Kimmi nodded quickly.

“Hm hm.”

“Good girl,” she said again.

Kimmi basked in the glow of pride at hearing the praise. She so much wanted to be a good girl for Regina.

That’s when Regina grabbed her by her collar, spun her around to her hands and knees again, and lubed her ass and cock once more.

She stuck the tip of her dildo at the entrance to Kimmi’s anus.

“This is good to feel so good.”

She paused.

“Or bad. It’s totally up to you. I’ll go slow at first, but you should relax and let me in. Loosen your asshole like you’re going to take a crap.”

Kimmi caved. She’d done this before anyway.

With boys. Boys who didn’t love her. Not like Regina loved her.

Kimmi’s asshole loosened, and Regina’s cock went in slowly, gradually.

Kimmi whimpered and groaned, she brought her hand to her clit, the clit of her very wet and very hot pussy. Her ass began to sway against Regina’s cock. Kimmi backed into the woman behind her, filled and wanting more, desperate for more, greedy for more. Regina held her by the hips and sped up her anal assault.

I’m being fucked in the ass by a dyke, Kimmi thought, by a beautiful thick dyke who slaps me when I don’t obey her. And I love it.

When their session finally ended, Regina scrambled off the bed and made Kimmi clean her cock with her mouth.

Leaning over she softly caressed Kimmi’s face and kissed her lightly on the lips, quickly slipping in her tongue for a brief tango with Kimmi’s tongue, and pulled away, biting the girl’s bottom lip.

“Do you still love me, Kimmi?”

“Do you,” Kimmi asked, almost tearfully. “Do you love me?”

“I do,” Regina answered. “I love all my girls.”

Then Regina departed.

Sometime later, Dr. Essenza tapped on the door, entered, saw Kimmi curled on her bed, and greeted her.

“Did you have a nice night, dear? I know that that Regina can be a little rough at times, but she’s got a big heart. She means well. Is your ass sore, dear? She really likes to get at it, doesn’t she? I should know. But it just feels so good after a while, doesn’t it?”

Dr. Essenza went on and on, caressing Kimmi’s cheeks, running her hands down her smooth shoulders and arms, crossing over to gently massage the soft apples of Kimmi’s breasts. She leaned forward, stooping to lift Kimmi’s face by her chin, planting a long, loving kiss on the young woman.

“I don’t usually do this, it’s quite against protocol, but I just can’t my hands off you any longer, dear. Um, do you mind terribly if we sleep together tonight?”

Kimmi shook her head.

No. She didn’t mind. She really didn’t mind.

Dr. Essenza slowly unbuttoned her pink lab coat, hung it on a hook on the door, and undid the fourth button of her blouse, the three upper buttons already undone.

Sure, she was sore and worn out, but Dr. Essenza. Gosh. She was so beautiful. Kimmi thrilled in excitement at the slow and deliberate revelation of Dr. Essenza’s olive flesh, so full, so robust and curvy, all female, a woman’s body meant for carnal delight.

Kimmi giggled.

“What’s that dear?” asked Dr. Essenza as she stepped out of her dark skirt.

“Did she really? Did Regina fuck your ass too?”

Dr. Essenza nodded and giggled in her turn.

“Uh huh. She fucks so hard, doesn’t she? I mean, she really rams it in there.”

Carla collapsed on the bed, laughing in Kimmi’s arms.

“Maybe we can change some of that.”

“No,” Kimmi answered. “Don’t do that. I like her like she is. Hard and soft at the same time.”

Carla kissed Kimmi, long and emotionally.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said. “But I just can’t go another night without you. Do you have one more orgasm in you tonight? Or are you just completely spent?”

Yes and yes.

Kimmi parted her thighs as Carla turned over and brought her own hips close to Kimmi’s face. Kimmi marveled at the thick and luxurious bush of Dr. Carla Essenza, stroking her hands along the fleshy olive skin.

Almost an hour later, Carla got up, attached the night cap to Kimmi’s head, and crawled back into bed, cuddling the young woman’s back against her breast and holding her arms tight around her.

“I’ll be here in the morning for you, sweetie,” Dr. Essenza said, kissing the back of Kimmi’s neck, and closing her eyes to the gentle and irresistible pull of sleep.

But Kimmi was already lost in the dream world of lesbian immersion.

Night with Cynthia

When Cynthia found them like that the next morning, she literally clapped.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she cried out over and over. “Really? Really? Did you two really?”

Dr. Essenza slowly scrambled out of Kimmi’s bed. The young woman, still in her cap, which was ending its night cycle, stirred at the noise Cynthia made.

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Dr. Essenza said, “quit prancing like a little girl, Cyndi. Get a hold of yourself. It’s not your birthday.”

Cynthia pouted.

“I can’t help it. It’s just so sweet and kind of you. To be part of the program like this. To care about little Kimmi so much. It is. It’s just like a birthday present.”

Dr. Essenza removed Kimmi’s night cap. The girl blinked several times, taking in the new day, the events of last night coming back to her, and the fading memory of those dreams, so wonderful and lesbian.

“Am I queer now, Dr. Essenza?”

“Not yet, you sweet little girl. You’re so close, so close now. But we need to do everything we can to reduce the risk of recidivism.”

Cynthia shuddered.

She hated recidivism.

Cynthia rubbed the side of Kimmi’s face.

“Girl, you’ll be a dyke soon.”

Kimmi agreed. An image came quickly to her mind. She saw a woman, tall, stout, similar to Regina, a little taller, maybe, less round of hip. She remembered, among all the fading images, touching and kissing, holding and loving, this woman, mouth on her groin, her pie, the hole of her love and sex, urging her into one orgasm after another. She could feel her, touch her, taste her. Smell her. Such a strong smell. So fresh. So pungent. So good.

“I hope so,” Kimmi said. “I need this.”

That night Cynthia walked in on a Kimmi on hands and knees in front of the loveseat, stark naked and rubbing her asshole and pussy as she gazed up at the large flat screen showing a thick dyke, her hair cut to almost a flat top, pounding a young woman with long red hair from behind, a strap-on dildo attached to her hips.

“I want this,” Cynthia heard Kimmi say.

“I want this so bad.”

Cynthia, holding a pink double-ended dildo, sank to the floor beside Kimmi, brushing the petite round curves of the girl’s ass with the palm of her hand.

“I want this for you too, sweetheart. I want this for you so bad.”

Cynthia pulled Kimmi into a loving embrace, lips locked together in a loud kissing. Cynthia cooed wildly as Kimmi grabbed her throat, held her chin up, and placed her open mouth on the dainty end in a long, slow, sloppy blend of kissing and sucking. Then Kimmi licked along the length of Cynthia’s made-up face, licking the makeup, the foundation, the concealer, intoxicated in the taste of even, not artificial, but created woman, self-fashioned womanhood.

Cynthia lay back on the carpet and gently kicked Kimmi backward.

“Here. Do what I do. Spread your legs out like this. No. Come nearer. We need to touch. Our legs need to touch. It’s so fucking hot when our bodies are touching. I’m going to put this end in me, and you put the other in you.”

Cynthia poured pink lubrication from the bottle on the table at the side of the loveseat over the full length of the pink dildo.

“I just love looking at a girl I’m doing this with. Some dykes don’t like this. They don’t like this at all. But I do. God, I really like doing this.”

She put one end in between the extended lips of her pussy, her hole ready and waiting.

“I hope you love it too.”

She winked at Kimmi.

Kimmi winked back and licked her lips.

So hot.

Turned on as she was, it took a long while for Kimmi to work herself into this new position. She propped herself up by holding her elbows behind and to the side of her, she watched Cynthia gyrating, she gazed in a growing hunger at the woman’s vagina, her lips enveloping the pink cock, the hole of her pussy tight around the girth of the dildo. She saw how sweat began to form beads over Cynthia’s body, her face pulled back in an expression of exquisite suffering, tormented by the rising storm, the orgasm which would wash over her.

Then Kimmi too started to feel it, her spread thighs drawing nearer to Cynthia’s spread thighs, her end of the pink cock now deep within her pussy, she could feel herself fucking Cynthia and Cynthia fucking her, a shared cock between them, uniting them in a common quest for pleasure. Kimmi’s body gleamed, glistered with sweat.

“Oh god, Kimmi, you’re so fucking hot.”

Cynthia’s makeup was a hot mess of running mascara, eyeliner, and bleared eyeshadow.

When the climax came, it came at the same time. Both Cynthia and Kimmi jerked, shimmying and convulsing with an orgasm that seemed to run from one body along the shared cock into the other only to reverberate and hurtle again to the first.

Finally the climax ended.

Cynthia sat up, climbed over Kimmi, the flexible cock still in her pussy and kissed the girl over and over again, not giving Kimmi a chance to respond or to kiss back.

“Oh, god, Kimmi, I love you. I love you so much.”

Kimmy threw her arms around Cynthia’s wet back and pulled her to her, pressing her breasts against her own, one hand high on Cynthia’s back, the other moving low to touch the rising curve of her caretaker’s ass.

Kimmi opened her mouth to Cynthia’s, plunging her tongue in wantonly.

Finally she broke away.

“I love you too, Cynthia. I love you so much.”

One week later

One week later, Kimmi couldn’t really say what had changed about her. She was gay, she knew that. A queer girl, a lesbian, a dyke. A slut. She knew that too. Girl-crazy, you might say. Absolutely girl crazy.

Masturbating all day long to an endless parade of lesbian pornography, sex sessions in a large, carpeted pink room, with Regina, with Cynthia, with Q’ieshay, with other assistants, even some of the other patients, Kiera too, despite not being in the same program, they’d fuck and flip each other off, fuck and flip each other the bird, tasting pussy after pussy, groping and fondling breast after breast, kissing and nibbling tit and nipple, lip and chin, cunt lip and asshole.

Regina was right, it turned out. She loved eating her ass.

Those night caps changed her, just like Dr. Essenza had promised. Not that she really needed it. God. A week of fucking Regina, Q’ieshay, and Cynthia almost non-stop would make any girl a lesbian, or bi. But Kimmi knew she wasn’t bi. Not even a little. She remembered having loved men, having been turned on by men, but now? A memory yes, but nothing more.

She didn’t miss it. She didn’t resent or regret what they had done to her here. How could she? She was what she was. Just a totally queer lesbian slut.

Those night caps.

They gave her strange dreams, dreams filled with women, dreams filled with girls, dreams filled with lesbians of all shapes, ages, and sizes. She loved women. Something about them.

But all that week, a special woman would appear. Sneak into her dreams, invade even her unconscious moments. She could taste her. Definitely she could see her, even in her waking life. She’d just close her eyes, and there’d she be.

She supposed some girls wouldn’t think her anything special.

No, she knew that.

Oh, god, but thinking about her turned her on so much. That body of hers, so much like Regina’s, in a way. Full-bodied, robust, Rubenesque. Her face, maybe someone would have called it flat and hard, almost masculine. A large, wide chin holding about a sensible, no-nonsense face that Kimmi just wanted to cover in pouty little kisses, laughing blissfully as she just held her, that strange woman. Broad shoulders, and wide hips. When Kimmi closed her eyes, she’d almost orgasm just thinking about that woman.

She’d do anything for her.

Anything.

Renee at the bar

Renee shifted her ponderous, almost masculine, bulk on the stool at the bar, trying to get comfortable. Not that she was too masculine. She did get her figure from her mother, after all. But her mother had gotten hers from her dad, so there was that. Wide of hip and wide of waist, she ran a fairly straight line, thick to be sure, from neck to foot, with something of a minor interruption in the way of a protuberance at her chest. Yeah, she wore a bra. It kept her tits from chafing.

She pulled a gulp from her Murica and sighed. Four o’clock was always slow around here. But she’d been feeling an itch down there in her nether region, and something in the way of a female touch, she told herself, was what she needed.

Right then the bell above the door tinkled, and ·just about the cutest, most adorable thing since that girl, what was her name, took the nation’s heart back in the 80s.

Just a little wisp of a girl, almost bald, a brown fuzz covered her round and adorable head. She wore a darling yellow floral sundress and brown leather strap sandals. The pinkest lips you ever saw and eyes a deep brown like chestnuts. Lovely apples of her breast filled the front of her dress out just fine thank you and the way they jiggled free and loose without restraint, well.

Renee turned away. Lost or crazy, she thought. Can’t be in here for no other reason than that.

But the pretty little thing sat down on the stool next to Renee, smiled the brightest smile and spoke to her in the voice of a songbird in the Field of Reeds.

“I’ve been rewired,” the cute little bird perched beside her said. “They rewired me. I’m a dyke now.”

Said without emotion of any kind, without joy, or anger, or humor, or sarcasm. Just a point-blank statement of fact, the same way you might say the Ford needs an oil change. Or the coons got into the neighbor’s garbage next door.

And Renee, who realized she sounded just like her father at that moment, replied, “That a fact?”

“Hm hm,” the girl nodded. “Just completely rewired me.”

Just what she’d suspected, Renee thought, another crazy. Why did she always bring out the crazy?

“Are you going to take me home soon?” the girl asked sweetly, slipping her arm through Renee’s elbow and leaning her bald little head on her shoulder.

“I can treat you so right.”

Renee finished her beer.

“That a fact?”

“Hm hm,” the girl replied. “I told you. They rewired me.”

A long silence.

“I think,” the girl said, pausing. “I think I’m your birthday present.”