I admit, some of the ideas are not entirely mine. There are some elements here from stories I've read in the past, some concepts that others have come up with. If I could remember where I saw them first, I'd credit them. But I can't; all I remember is that there are certain elements of the fantasy that stuck with me. In particular, the corset, the heels, and the teeth. You'll understand.
And, hopefully, you'll enjoy.
My name is Whore
“You’re
sure about this?” his voice is hesitant, tense, with a hint of pleading.
“I’m sure,”
I say.
“It’s a
pretty extreme desire.”
“I know.
But that doesn’t change anything.”
“This isn’t
something you can come back from, Walter.”
I wince at
that. I hate my name. I’ve always hated my name. “Please don’t call me that,” I
say.
“Are you
sure this isn’t a passing desire?”
I frown at
him. “You know it’s not,” I say. “I’ve spoken to three different shrinks over
the course of six months. It’s not a passing fancy. This is what I want.”
“And you’re
absolutely positive?”
“Yes.”
“Even
though there’s no way back? At least, no easy way back?”
“Yes.”
“You know
once we do this, you can’t ever go back to not having done it. This kind of
fantasy—once it becomes reality, there’s no way to put it back in the box.”
I smile at
him. “I’m glad you care so much,” I say. “But that’s the way life is. Once you
do something, you can’t ever go back to not having done it. I can’t uncut my
hair. I can’t unhave sex. I can’t undo anything.”
“This is
different.” He says the words, but I know I have him convinced.
“I’ve never
wanted anything more,” I tell him. And those are my last words as Walter.
My eyelids
are so heavy, like there are huge weights attached to them. My whole body feels
heavy. No, not heavy. Sore. Sluggish. Moving my arms is like trying to run in a
swimming pool.
“Don’t,” a
voice says. “You need to hold still.”
I try to
force my eyes open, but all I get is a light so bright that it burns.
“It’s okay,”
the voice says. “We’re almost done. Go back to sleep.”
I draw in a
breath, about to say something, but the world goes dark again.
Lights
flash against my eyes. Sound plays in my ears. I see quick glimpses, too fast
to make out. Flesh on flesh. Pink. Red. Brown. I hear moans. Gasps. Words with
hard K sounds. I taste salt. Feels like slime on my tongue. More moans. More
flashes of skin. Words that flash too fast for me to read them. One starts with
a W. One starts with an S. Then more words, but I only catch the first two
letters. CU. CO. WH. SL. BI. CU. CU. CO. CU. CO.
It makes my
head hurt, but I can’t stop the sounds, the slapping of flesh on flesh, the
moans, the squelches, the whispers just outside of my hearing. I can’t stop the
flashing words, the images, the tastes or the feeling against my lips, between
my legs. It all just keeps coming, wrapping itself around my brain stem.
I open my
eyes with a gasp and sit up in bed. I can feel the hospital gown against my
skin, and it feels like sandpaper. I reach up and pull it off me, sighing in
relief as the material comes away from my breasts, as it bares my legs and my
pussy—no, my cunt—to the air.
Did it
work? I think it worked. I don’t have that disgusting worm between my legs
anymore. I run my hands down my body, feeling the soft curves of flesh where my
round breasts taper into perky nipples. Then there’s a corset, but it feels
right, and the curve there is so sharp I can’t help but smile. I bit lips that
are much more plump than I remember, and I run my hands down smooth and well
curved legs. Oh god. It worked.
“Good
morning.” I look across the room and see him there. He’s sitting in a relaxed
posture, one ankle crossed over his knee, blocking my view from his pants, from
his cock. “Can you tell me your name?”
I don’t
want to say it.
“It’s okay,”
he says. He smiles. “Don’t think about it. Just introduce yourself to me. Say
hello and tell me your name.”
I take a
deep breath. “Hello,” I say. My voice is higher than it was, but still throaty.
Kind of sexy, actually. It’s a little hard to form the words without teeth. Why
don’t I have teeth? I guess I don’t need them anymore. Why would I? “My name is
Whore.” Wait. That’s not what I meant to say. I try again. “I am a whore,” I
say. I frown. “I am a cock hungry cum guzzling whore.”
He laughs
softly. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad it worked so well.”
“What
worked?”
“You’ve been
conditioned, little whore,” he says, rising to his feet. My eyes go immediately
to the bulge in his pants, and I lick my lips. “But we’ll get to that. First,
let’s talk about the more physical changes.”
“Am I a
woman?” Something about that sounds wrong.
“You tell
me,” he says. “Are you a woman?”
“I’m a
fuckdoll who lives only to pleasure cock.” The words come out before I think
them through. He smirks at me.
“Do you
like the corset?” It’s a rhetorical question. “We’ve removed two of your ribs,”
he says. “And most of the muscles of your abdomen. You need to keep the corset
on. Otherwise, you’ll probably get a hernia from just about any strain. There’s
not much else keeping your insides where they’re supposed to be. But that’s not
a problem, is it?”
I shake my
head.
He reaches
out a hand and goes to help me stand. I get up on my tip toes. I wince in pain
as I try to flatten my feet.
“Shorter
tendons,” he says. “You need to wear heels all the time.”
I smile at
that. I never would have thought of something like that.
“I told you
it would be hard to undo,” he says. He lets go of my hand.
Rather than
staying on my toes, I lower myself to my knees. More comfortable there anyway.
And a better view.
“But I can
put you back, if you want. Do you want to go back to who you used to be?”
I wait for
the words to come spilling out of me, like they have with other questions. But
nothing comes. There’s nothing forcing me to answer one way or another.
Completely voluntarily, I say “No way. This is what I want.”
“What do
you want?”
“Cock.” The
word sounds so good.
“You want
your cock back?”
I shake my
head. Then I reach forward and start to unzip his pants.
He takes a
step back, and I look up at him with a pouting expression.
“Not yet,”
he says. “First, you have to understand what’s going on.
“This wasn’t
cheap. Your stomach has been stapled, your muscles have been adjusted, and you
have been completely conditioned. Do you have any idea how much that costs?” I
shake my head, my eyes still on his downed zipper. If he would just take a step
closer. Just one step, and I could reach it.
“It’s close
to a million dollars,” he says. “And if you want to stay like this, you’re
going to have to pay it back.”
“How?”
He smiles
at me. “I think fifty bucks for every cock you service ought to do it, no
matter which hole they want to use,” he says. “No reason you shouldn’t be a cheap whore, is there?”
I shake my
head.
“I imagine
it’ll take you a while to be able to pay me back,” he says. “Twenty thousand
cocks. What do you think? A decade?” I almost laugh at that suggestion. “You
know it would take more than fifty cocks a day to get it done in one year,
right?”
I hadn’t
thought of that. Still, doesn’t sound all that bad. I have three holes. I can get a lot done in a day. And it’s not like
it would feel like work.
“I’ll let
you charge more for other things,” he says. “Well, that’s not true. I’ll let
your pimp charge more. I wonder how
much he’ll charge to let customers smack you around, or to cum on your face. I
wonder if he’ll charge more to have you tied up, or what he’ll charge to rent
you out for bukkake parties.”
I lick my
lips, reach up to wipe away the saliva. It seems harder not to drool without
teeth.
He laughs. “You
like that idea, don’t you?”
I nod.
“You’ll
find there’s a lot of new things you like. A lot of cravings. The more
degrading, the better. You have to wear a corset, you have to wear heels.
Anything else, though,” he shakes his head, and I remember the feeling of the
hospital gown.
“Who is my
pimp?”
He shrugs
and takes a step closer.
Not even
thinking about it, I reach into his fly and pull out his cock. So beautiful. So
wonderful. I almost orgasm as it slides past my lips and I feel the spongy
texture on my tongue. I feel his reaction at the gentle tug of my gums, at the
way my throat massages him on the way down. No gag reflex whatsoever. Good to
know.
“That
depends on the bidding,” he says. “I don’t know who will offer the most for
you. Maybe two of them will go in together.” He makes a soft moaning sound and
puts his hands on my head.
I reach up
and gather my hair into two large tufts, lacing them through his fingers. I
moan, another jolt of pleasure pulsing through me, when he takes them in his grip.
“So many
little changes,” he says, his voice half a growl as he yanks my head down the
length of his shaft, then pulls back and fucks my face with another thrust. He
pounds away at me, and I feel tingles of pleasure with each thrust.
“Oh god,”
he says, blasting the most delicious substance down my throat. I feel my body
shudder with a tiny orgasm as I swallow his cum. “Oh, you’re going to make my
money back really fast, aren’t you?”
He pulls
his cock out of my mouth, and I miss it as soon as it’s gone.
“Once you’ve
paid me back,” he says, “I’m going to give you another chance to change back.
Then I’ll give you another chance every so often, for the rest of your life.
All you have to do is ask.”
I swallow
the last of his cum and look up at him. I smile.
“Never
going to happen,” I say.
He laughs
and pats my head.
“Thank you,”
I say.
“For what?
The cum?”
“Well, yes.”
I wink at him and lick my lips, getting a last taste of his musk. “But not
that.”
“Then what?”
“For making
my dream come true.”
He laughs. “You
really are a whore, aren’t you?”
I nod.
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