Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
He pulled back, spent, satisfied. The therapy room around him was institutional, cement brick with a cold stainless steel table dominating the space. She laid in the stirrups, softly moaning. He looked at her empty eyes in the midst of the beautiful skin and wondered what she thought, if she thought at all. She had been in institutions for most of her life, unable to communicate or even control her body very much.
He liked to believe that he was being generous and loving while exercising his "droit de signeur," right of the king, with the patients under his care. Who knew? Maybe they actually felt warmth and love when he mounted them, took them for his pleasure. He was sure that at least some of them had orgasm, and no one could have orgasm if they were upset or uncomfortable.
He started to zip his fly when he heard the door open behind him. A large arm circled his head, and he felt the sting of a needle being driven deep into his buttocks...
He began to regain consciousness, but as he tried to move his body, he felt the restraints. He opened his eyes to see a hospital room around him, and a woman in white standing over him.
"Welcome back. Don't move too quickly. You've been in an artificially induced coma for well over a month now. We needed some time to make some ... modifications," she said.
He tried to speak, but only gurgles came out. "Yes. Your voice is gone. Do you remember what you were doing just before we got to you?" she asked.
"Oh, that's right. Your motor control is not what it used to be. We altered that too.
"Let me remind you. You were raping one of the patients under your care. You were forcing yourself on a defenseless woman. This wasn't the first time. We know that well. We know why you moved from place to place, why people covered up the scandal of your rapes, allowing you to continue.
"It's all over now. It was simple to get enough medical staff to agree that you should get a taste of your own kind of care. We have the technology to alter you -- sowe did it."
She brought out a mirror. "Take a look. Do you see her in there?"
He did. He saw a young woman, in the mirror, hairless and pretty. She tore back the covers, and as she moved the mirror, he saw breasts and hips along with his own male organ.
"You were, in your own way, an interesting experiment. There were people who argued that you should be awake for the surgeries, get to feel the pain, but we wanted to keep you alive. It's nice work too, even if it wasn't done by certified doctors. We chose to use injectable silicone to make your hips and breasts, but we kept massaging it to make it soft and pliable. Sure, there is a risk that it will move and kill you early, but that is a risk we had to take.
"A scalp reduction and hair grafts took very well, and the dermatological resident was thrilled at the chance to try out the new laser hair removal -- maybe a little too thrilled, as you don't even have much pubic hair left.
"The plastic surgeon, without having to worry what you wanted and without any fear of malpractice suits, took the opportunity to experiment. Look in the mirror! What a cute little nose, and those cheekbone implants! I wish I looked that good.
"We reshaped and remolded your outside. And we broke a few things inside.
You aren't able to speak any more, and your motor control is severely impaired. You'll need a wheel chair, and probably spend the rest of your life in diapers.
"Have you figured it out yet? I suspect you have. Your brain still works, even though you don't have enough control to do anything about it. We have turned you into one of the girls that were your victims. Voluptuous, beautiful and totally helpless.
"Let's try a little experiment."
He rocked in the restraints, tried to make noise, but all that came out was a soft moan. She pulled out a giant lubricated phallus, and began to probe inside. She took an ice cube out of the pitcher by the bed and started to rub it around the large aureole.
He realized that he was becoming erect, that the stimulation was arousing him. He screamed "NO! NO! NO!, but no voice came out. His own body -- or what was now his body -- was betraying him. He felt powerless and ashamed as he felt his pelvis start to thrust, and just as he was about to come, she dumped the entire pitcher of ice water over his groin. He pulled against the restraints and sobbed in pain.
"There will be plenty of time for that later. You see, we have arranged a foster care home for you. He's a very nice man who specifically requested a young girl. He's very excited about you -- and your special gifts."
He heard her heels leave the room. He looked at the ceiling, and thought about his life. He realized that he would have plenty of time to think from now on....
She lay on the floor, in a pool of her own excrement. The room was dark, and while she could crawl around, she knew the door was locked.
The footsteps came down the hall, and the door opened.
"Sally! Bad Girl! How many times have I told you not to poop in here! I'm going to have to punish you again," he said.
She felt her body sag as he threw her over his shoulder. The weight of her breasts pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. He dropped her in the shower, and the cold water hit her like a bolt of electricity. Once she had almost drowned when the water hit her face, but she woke up with him over her, breathing life into her, and feeling the hardness of him against her belly.
"It's a special night, tonight. We are going to a party! You need to look pretty tonight!" he crooned.
She knew what that meant. He would take her to the bedroom and dress her in outfits he bought from Fredericks of Hollywood, so tight that her breast were almost uncovered. Even without walking, she knew that the strap on heels would cramp her calves, and he would spear her face with horrible makeup. He liked to dress her like that, no matter how cold it was, and take her in the subway to one of his friends "parties."
It would be a little apartment with a bunch of guys, gimp fanciers, reeking of beer and cigarettes, and he would take her into the bedroom and start collecting twenties from the crowd. Who knew what they wanted to do to this helpless woman, still male between the legs? She knew that every orifice in her body would be filled, that it would be another night of hell.
Anything could happen. One night one of the guys vomited on her and fell asleep, and she lay in his vomit, his limp body across her chest, almost suffocating her.
She thought back to the days when she was he, full of power, striding down the hall in a wool flannel suit, everybody in terror. King of the domain, with all the rights and privileges. But he had been too demanding, to unthinking, and his privileges were taken away.
What would happen when she wasn't pretty enough anymore, when he got bored? She had heard other guys offer to buy her, like she was some piece of chattel. She wanted to cry out and she tried...
The man on top of her smiled. 'Oh, you like that baby? There's plenty more where that came from."
--Fin--