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From: Capricorn One <capricorn_one@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Story: A New Life for Candace (M/F, Breast, Slut, Transform, Piercing)
Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2000 03:10:02 -0400
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Hi,
This is my first story submission. Not sure if I'm
supposed to say anything else. I hope you enjoy it.
Cap
***********
A New Life for Candace
A story of body modification and bimboization
By Capricorn_One@yahoo.com
Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Email
Capricorn_One@yahoo.com.
Part I
Bill walked out of Dr. Callaway's office and past
Candace without raising his head or making eye
account. "Bill-"
She never got to ask her fiance what the therapist had
said. "Candace, come on in," Dr. Callaway said, his
deep voice sounding gentle yet concerned. She walked
in and took a seat on the couch across from the
doctor's desk.
Callaway peered at her over thick glasses. Candace was
a tall brunette with mousey brown hair and green eyes
that would have been exotic if they hadn't been placed
beneath thick brown eyebrows. She had the fit body of
a professional young woman with a personal trainer.
She hid it beneath a business suit. She was not going
to be happy with what he had to say. But he had
promised Bill he'd try... and if she really loved
him...
"Candace, as you know Bill started coming to see me a
few months ago, after he'd been dating you for about a
year. He's asked me to talk to you because he feels he
can't."
"What is it? What's wrong with him? Is this about
those magazines I found of his?"
"Yes... its directly related. Candace, Bill is a
fetishist. That is, his sexuality is tied into
fetishes. In his case, he has many; none of them are
particularly bizarre but they are quite strong. And
fetishes cannot be cured. In fact, they usually grow
stronger with time."
A slow feeling of panic rose in her; her stomach
seized up. "What are you saying, doctor?"
"Bill loves you, but he has sexual needs which you
don't satisfy. If he doesn't... well, its like asking
a man to live celibate. I've spoken to him extensively
and there are really only three possible solutions.
First, you and he can break up, and maybe Bill will
find someone new that he loves that can satisfy his
fetishes. Second, you and he can stay together, and
you'll have to accept that he has to satisfy his
fetishes from somewhere if not from you. Third, you
can change to accommodate his needs."
"What are his...needs..., doctor?" she asked. He
responded by pushing a file across his desk to her.
She opened it up and started flipping through. She
stopped halfway through in horror. Her Bill? The
magazines had been bizarre but this... Bill was into
this?
She walked out of Dr. Callaway's office in a daze.
Bill was in the waiting room. He looked up at her, his
eyes red. Both of them opened their mouths to speak,
but nothing came out. They walked in silence through
the city until finally they were outside Candace's
apartment.
She broke the silence. "Bill, I love you. I know we
can work through this together, and find a way that we
can both be happy."
*********
Friday afternoon, a few days later. During her lunch
break, Candace walked the eight blocks to Maria's Hair
and Nails. It was an uncomfortable trip; she wasn't
sure if she'd ever get comfortable walking in
high-heeled shoes, even if they did have a chunky
heel. But she'd promised herself, and Bill, that she'd
try.
Maria's was a full-service salon and Candace had an
appointment for 'the works.' The works started with
the nail technician filing Candace's nails down to
smoothness, then applying acrylic forms to them. When
the forms had set, she cut them down to the
appropriate legnth-1/4" of an inch-and gave her a
French Manicure. While that was happening, Maria's
hair stylist came in and began working on Candace's
mousey brown locks. When she was done, Candace's hair
had been streaked with red highlights.
Then Maria herself came in to do the "glamour make-up"
Candace had requested. Maria started by waxing
Candace's eyebrows, trimming them to a thinner, sexier
shape. Then she set to work. An hour later, Candace's
face was made-up like a movie star, complete with
lip-liner and two coats of glossy lipstick, pancake
make-up, eyeliner, exotic eyeshadow.
"You come back soon, and we'll take you to the next
level," Maria said as Candace handed her the tip.
At the office, she got raised eyebrows from the women
and a few sidelong glances from the men. She dismissed
them with a joke about a 'hot date', although she
found she couldn't as easily dismiss her new nails.
Typing had suddenly become a burden. The day passed
slowly. She consoled herself with the reminder that
she was quitting in just a few weeks to start law
school, so it was no big deal if her work efficiency
went down a bit.
Work ended at 5, and she raced home. Tonight was going
to be a big surprise for Bill! She changed into the
new leather pants she'd bought the day before, and
admired the way they made her ass look, firm and
round. Then she slipped into a tight black halter top
she hadn't worn since college; it ended just above her
belly button. Years of working out had paid off; her
tummy was smooth and taut. She finished the outfit by
putting on a pair of leather boots with pointed toes
and 3" heels.
"Highlighed hair, glamorous make-up, long nails, and
club clothes, damn, I look hot!" she thought. Inside,
she felt a warm glow of love for Bill; it made her
happy to know that she would please him.
****
He took her to the hot new dance club in the Village.
The doorman let them in right away. "Special
treatment! I must really look fantastic tonight," she
thought.
Inside it was loud noise and writhing bodies and the
smell of sweat and smoke and booze. After a margarita,
they hit the dance floor. They danced for what seemed
like hours. She was pressed tight to Bill, grinding up
against his waist, rubbing her wetness against his
hard-on. She looked up into his eyes...which were
staring over her shoulder.
Candace turned, and instantly knew what Bill's roaming
eye had set upon: A club girl, in shiny black vinyl
pants and spike-heeled pumps, with a pierced navel and
a tattoo encircling her upper arm--sort of like in
that movie Barb Wire. While Candace watched, the girl
inhaled from a long white cigarette, and then blew a
stream of smoke out in her direction.
"That...that.. SLUT...knows my man is checking her
out! She's mocking me," Candace screamed inwardly. And
all at once that warm feeling, that sense of security
she'd felt for pleasing Bill, was gone. She turned on
him.
"I obviously don't look trashy enough to satisfy you,
do I Bill?"
For a moment Bill looked as if he'd been slapped. Then
his face hardened. "No. No, I guess you don't."
Candace didn't say a word to him; she turned and
walked out of the nightclub.
She didn't go far-just far enough to find a stiff
drink. She found one in Lou's All-Nighter, a seedy
late-night drinking establishment just a block from
the danceclub. Sitting at the bar, she swallowed two
shots in a blur, then a third a moment later. The
bartender eyed her pittingly. "Pretty girl, if a
little trashy. I wonder why she's all alone," he
wondered.
But what he asked was "Can I get you something, miss?"
Candace looked up from an empty shot glass with red
eyes. "Another shot. And do you have a cigarette I
could bum?"
He did; a Marlboro, as it turned out. It was thick and
strong and it made her lungs hurt as she inhaled it
angrily, clumsily. She exhaled with a sneer, trying to
look distant, contemptuous, like the slut had done.
Her eyes fell on a neon sign across the street:
TATTOOS/BODYPIERCING 24HOURS.
And suddenly she knew what she had to do.
********
Bill called Saturday morning at 11 AM. "I love you,
Candace," was the first thing she heard when she
picked up the phone. "I love you, and I'm sorry. Can I
come over and apologize in person?"
"Yes," she said. "Come on over at around 2." And then
she hurried to get ready. She was just finishing her
preparations when she heard a knock on the door.
She opened the door to see her fiance, a dozen roses
in his hand. She watched as his jaw fell, and then as
the roses fell too, almost in slow motion. He was
looking at a vision from his wet dreams. Candace was
wearing a skin-tight vinyl halter top that showed off
her new bellybutton ring, as well as the henna tattoo
knotting its way around her upper arm. Her face was
heavily made-up, from eyes rimmed with dark liner to
lips painted into a cupid's bow. 5" spiked heels
adorned her feet, and her legs stretched up up up to
terminate in a micro-mini of shiny black plastic. Bill
knew there was no underwear beneath it.
"Why don't you come inside," she said, as she slinked
over to the dining room table. As Bill shut the door,
flame glowed in front of her face; then she was
smoking a long white Virginia Slims cigarette. "And
take your pants off."
"What's going on?" Bill stuttered. "I came her to
apologize...I came her to..."
She blew a long and luxurious stream of smoke into the
air. "You haven't cum here yet, Bill. But you will."
She stubbed the cigarette out and walked over to him.
He stood paralyzed. Dark, long nails reached out to
unzip his fly. He felt her slip his pants down around
his waste. Then he was distracted by the pleasure of
her painted lips sliding up and down his engorged
cock.
He came with greater force than he ever had, hot
spurts spraying into her mouth. Candace swallowed
greedily, filled with a hotness inside. When it was
over, he staggered, dizzied by the force of his
orgasm. He looked down at her, at her heavy make-up,
her spike heels, her piercing, and soon he was hard
again. She lifted up her miniskirt, as if in
invitation.
He fucked her savagely, from behind, and when she
moaned he hit harder. Whether the moans were from pain
or pleasure he neither knew nor cared. All Bill knew
was that this was his woman, and that for now his
woman had become his slut, and that a slut exists
solely for her man's pleasure. Thinking of that, he
came. And when he was done, he lay down naked and told
his slut to clean his cock with her tongue. And she
did.
Later, when she had finished her tongue work, she lay
close to him. Her pussy aching, Candace realized she
felt content. More than content. Fulfilled. For the
first time she realized what had been missing from
their love life, and she felt what it was like to have
all of Bill's passion directed at her.
"Bill," she said. "If its ok with you, I want to quit
work a month early and move in with you. I'm going to
spend the next few weeks as your...dream girl."
"But what about law school?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm still going to go to law school," she said
dreamily, resting her hand on his manhood. "But for
the next month, let me make your fantasies a reality."
His manhood stood up to show its agreement with her
plan.
****
Part 2
When Candace returned to the salon, she was glad to
see the smiling, made-up face of Maria. Maria
understood what she was doing, what she was going
through. Maria would help her become Bill's wet dream.
"Maria, I've decided I want to take it to the next
level. What do you suggest?" As it turned out, Maria
had quite a few suggestions. They talked it over, and
finally Candace nodded to her. "Do it."
It started with the Brazilian wax job-Brazilian being
the euphemism for 'remove everything,' from her
armpits to her ankles. She welcomed the pain; it was a
mark of her commitment to Bill. She enjoyed the feel
of her new pussy, swollen and throbbing and hairless.
The lengthiest process was the hair extensions.
Angela, the hair weaver, was quite skilled, but adding
enough locks to get Candace from her current shoulder
length hair to the desired look--thick tresses halfway
down her back-was still a three-hour task.
When Angela finished, Pamela took over to do the dye
job. Candace had decided to go for an obviously
artificial purplish burgundy. The hair color that slut
in the club had. "Do you want semi-permanent or
permanent color?" Pamela asked.
"Oh...permanent, I guess. Don't want to have to come
back here every 12 washes!" she explained. "I can
always dye it back in time for school, right..." she
told herself.
Meanwhile, the nail technician was busily lengthening
the acrylic on her nails. Candace had decided on a
luxurious 1/2" length. "No more typing for me," she
thought. "The only jobs I'll be doing for the next
month are hand and blow."
While the dye was setting and the nails were drying,
Maria went to work on her face. Like before, she
started with the eyebrows. But this time there was no
careful trimming and thinning. Candace felt a ripping,
and suddenly her eyebrows were gone, waxed entirely
off. Maria proceeded to repaint them as high,
quizzical arches, the type bimbos always have. Then
she glued long, thick false eyelashes to each eyelid.
Candace's lids felt heavy, and she let her eyes fall
to a half-closed, hooded state. Maria then proceeded
to do her make-up, thick, slutty, cheap. If last time
she had looked like a movie star, this time she would
look like a porn star.
The nails were just drying when Angela returned,
carrying a tray stacked with needles and small pieces
of jewelry. Candace winced at the sharp stabbing
pain-one, two, three new holes in her left ear! One,
two, three new holes in the right! Then Angela took
hold of her hands, and pierced the pinky nail of each
hand. After a bit of fumbling with the jewelry,
Candace and Angela managed to get everything in: Four
dangling plastic hoops in her ears, gold rings in the
nails.
"All done," Maria said, smiling, as she spun the chair
around so Candace could see her new, slut look in the
mirror.
"Bill will be so pleased," said the burgundy-haired
whore in the mirror. Dark-nailed hands lit a
cigarette, then paid Maria a generous tip. Now
Candace was headed downtown, to St. Mark's Place, for
some shopping. Her leather pants and her vinyl get-up
were the only clothes she had to go with her 'new
look'; it was time for a spending spree. Bill, being
the wealthy young investment banker that he was, had
generously agreed to pick up the tab.
St. Mark's Place featured the usual crowd--punks and
freaks purchasing fetish garb and body jewelry from
seemingly straight-laced Indian businessmen who seemed
entirely unaffected by the perversity of it all. The
last time Candace had been here, she'd been a suit,
simultaneously contemptuous and fascinated by the
scene in the way that the mainstream always is.
Now she was burgundy-haired and vinyl-clad, and
stalking through the stores, looking for just the
right choices for her new lifestyle. Red patent
leather boots with a 6" stiletto that fit her like a
glove from her toes to her mid-thigh. A black leather
corset. Patent leather opera gloves. Black patent
platform pumps with 8" spikes. Ballet shoes in black
leather. A burgundy vinyl dress that barely covered
her from crotch to breasts. A black latex catsuit. All
her choices were skin-tight, and sexy, and shiny. All
of them made her look cheap, trashy, or slutty, and
sometimes all of the above. And if they were made of
an artificial material, a plastic or a latex, all the
better.
Six hours later, Candace's clothing bill came to over
$5000. It suddenly occurred to her that this was a lot
of money to spend for just one month. "He won't be
upset. He wants me to wear this stuff. Besides, I'll
still wear this stuff for Bill once I start law
school, sometimes. Like when we're alone in the house
and I want to turn him on, or if we go out to a club.
It won't go to waste," she told herself.
***
Candace was in her thigh-high boots, kneeling on the
floor of the living room, her vinyl dress hiked up to
reveal her shaven, lubricated ass. Bill stood over
her, his cock slipping in and out of her hole. At
Bill's instruction, she had taken to wearing a butt
plug during the day for the past week. Today the plug
had been replaced with his cock. There was pain, but
not as much as she'd feared; and the sensation of
being fucked in the ass was like being filled, being
fulfilled. "Fuck me! Fuck your slut! Harder, harder!"
she groaned.
Bill rewarded her by increasing his rhythm. "You like
that, bitch," he said, as he came in her ass. "Why
don't you tell me how much you liked it."
Candace rolled over on her back and began to rub a
long-nailed fingertip across her engorged clit. As she
did, she started to talk. "Oh, I liked it so much... I
love being fucked by you. Its all I want. Its what I
am now. Just a slut for you to fuck."
Bill stood over her, watching her, rubbing his own
cock. As he saw her legs tighten and her breathe
shorten, he accelerated his own pace. As she orgasmed,
so did he. His hot cum spilled all over her face. He
told himself that he loved her. It was just that the
month was almost over. He just had to enjoy it while
he could.
In the afterglow of her orgasm, Candace realized she
very desperately wanted a cigarette. Was she really up
to a pack a day now? "I've just been fucked in the
ass, called myself a slut, ordered to masturbate,
licked cum off my own face, and all I can think about
is that I want a cigarette because this was good sex.
Oh my god," she realized.
She knew then that she was addicted, and that there
was no going back. The question was... "what am I
addicted to?"
***
Candace had taken to sleeping in; the old Candace had
been a morning girl, a hard worker on the 9 to 5
lifestyle, but a slut was a creature of the night. And
it was a very cranky slut that was awakened by a 9:30
AM phone call that jarred her out of a very pleasant
dream about a porn queen who gets paid to suck hard
cocks.
"Hello," she said in a tired voice. "If this is a
tele-marketer go to hell."
"I got the promotion! I made vice president at the
bank!" It was Bill.
After five years, he had made it to the big leagues.
It was a long shot. He didn't think he was going to
get it. But he had. Now it was time for a 7 figure
salary. Shorter hours. Did I mention the 7 figure
salary?
Candace was totally silent. Her mind was desperately
thinking, putting it all together. Was this the sign
she was waiting for? She knew it was.
"That's really great, Bill," she said at last. "Its
great for us."
"Yes, it is!" he said.
"Do you know why its great for us?" Candace asked. Her
voice had suddenly turned sultry.
"Uh..."
"Its great for us because now we don't need to worry
about money anymore. Which is really great, because
I've decided not to go to law school."
"You're not going to law school?" He sounded shocked.
"That's right. Because a slut doesn't need law school.
And that's what I am going to be from now. Your slut.
I'm going to do this for real...no turning back."
"Honey. I would love you even if you went to law
school. You don't have to do this for me," said Bill.
"So what do you want to have done first?"
**
Part 3
Candace was sitting on a stool in the tattoo parlor
she had first visited two months ago, when that slut
had shown her what she needed to do. This visit,
though, the artist, Rick, was working with needles and
permanent ink, not henna. She was getting a real
tattoo. Rick was still working on it, finishing up the
Chinese characters that would forever encircle her
right upper arm. When he was done, they would spell
out fuck toy.
Rick had done all her recent piercing work as well.
The diamond screw in her left nostril was his work, as
were the dozen hoops and rings that hung from each of
her ears. Early this month, he'd also done the steel
rings in her nipples that were now so blatantly
visible through the taught lycra of her shirt.
Sometimes she strung a chain between the nipples, but
today she opted for a belly chain through her navel
ring. Less obvious was the barbell pierced
horizontally through her clitoris, or the two
piercings in her tongue. Bill loved those. Ever since
he'd gotten those, he'd been more and ore frequently
shoving her head to his cock to suck him off. She
didn't mind. Actually, she rather liked it. "Maybe I
should get a third barbell in my tongue... I'd be
eating cock for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!" she
thought.
She lit a Virginia Slim as Rick was finishing up.
"Since you're the one who marked me as a fucktoy, I
think you'll be the next one I fuck," she said. As
Rick started to take his pants off, she let out a long
stream of smoke.
*****
She could feel Rick's cum dripping down her leg as she
stood on the subway car on the way home. The first
time she'd fucked a man other than Bill, she'd felt a
bit guilty, even though it had been Bill's idea. But
her guilt had mostly gone away when she saw Bill's
reaction. His eyes had glazed over with lust, she
remembered. And then he'd told her that was how he
wanted her to be. A slut. An object to be used by men
for their pleasure. She still had to force herself to
sleep with other men. It was getting easier. She did
what she had to do to please Bill.
She glanced around the subway car; everywhere she
looked, men were just then averting their eyes,
pretending not to stare at the burgundy-haired bimbo
in the 5" heels and micromini. The subway women shot
her hateful glares. She had nothing but contempt for
those women now. "You all should learn to please your
man. That's what I did," she sneered inwardly.
The first thing she did when she got back to the
apartment was light up another cigarette. She'd
stopped fighting the urges, and had let her addiction
entirely take her. Now she was up to two packs a day.
That was ok. It gave her something to do when she
wasn't sucking cock.
Cigarette in hand, Candace settled down in the couch
and turned on her latest porno video, Shaved Bimbo
Sluts. Last week she had sold her entire college book
collection on eBay. The week before that, she had
dropped off all her old clothes at Goodwill. She
didn't want to wear that shit anymore anyway, and who
had time for books? Nowadays she focused on looking
and acting as slutty as possible for her man. She went
through porno like popcorn, learning how to look and
act and talk. Bill loved it when she acted trashy,
dumbing down her vocabulary and acting like a stupid
cuntslut.
While the tape rolled through the FBI warning, she
flipped through the latest issue of some fetish mag,
stopping to admire the girl's fake breasts, their
shaved cunts, their empty, horny stares.
"I am not there yet," she thought. "I don't look
plastic enough. And I still talk too smart. Bill needs
me to be a true bimbo slut. I have to keep working at
it." She reached into her purse and dug through it,
ignoring condoms, cigarettes, and make-up until at
last she found the phone number. "At least now I have
a plan. If this works, I'll be the biggest slut of
all."
"Hello, doctor? This is Candace. I want to go ahead
and make that appointment," she said into the phone.
***
Bill and Candace didn't make love anymore. All they
did was fuck. Missionary style had been almost
eliminated from their bedroom, unless you counted the
times when Candace rolled her legs back over her head
so her high heels were at her ears.
This particular evening, Bill was pounding her doggy
style, as hard as he could. She panted in hot gasps,
loving it, asking for it, wanting his cock to hit her
harder, go deeper. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me!" she shouted.
He came with a grunt and then pushed her to the bed.
She looked up at him through half-closed eyes and then
opened her mouth.
His dick dove dripping into it. She licked the head of
his cock with her pierced tongue, all the while
rubbing her painted lips on his shaft, gently coaxing
it further and further into her mouth, feeling his
cock get hard again. Soon she was deep-throating him
and he was gasping in pleasure. As she bobbed her head
up and down, she reached a long-nailed hand between
her legs and started rubbing her pierced clit. They
came together, hers a wave of pleasure that rolled
upward from her cunt, his an explosion that went off
deep in her throat.
When it was over Bill rolled off of her and onto the
bed, sprawled backwards. On his face was the look of
serene contentment that a man only has in the brief
moments after he's come. Candace sat up and got her
cigarettes off the nightstand. She lit one with a
flourish of dark nails and chrome lighter, and inhaled
deeply.
"Bill, I've decided to go to the extreme," she
announced.
He rolled over to look at her, admiring his creation.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "You're already like a
wet dream to me."
"Sure. I know. But I also know I could be even more.
I've started to do something these past months. And
whatever I do, I do 100%. The old me, I wanted to go
to the top schools, work for the best law firms. The
new me...I want to be the ultimate fucktoy for you."
He moved to be on top of her, and she saw he was hard
again. "What do you have in mind?"
"There's a clinic. I've made an appointment..." she
said, as he entered her.
*********
Candace was lying in the recovery bed in the clinic.
Bill and the doctor who had operated on her were in
the room too. Bill was looking at her, a wistful look
in his eyes. The doctor was busily setting up some
sort of audio-visual equipment.
"What a sight I am," she realized. Her feet and lower
legs were sealed in a cast, as was her lower ribcage.
Her hands were swathed in bandages, and her pussy and
throat and face were sore. Her chest was huge, like a
mountain, but much of that was just bandages, she
assumed. It looked like both her cunt and ass had
vibrators in them, plugged into the machine the doctor
was working with.
The doctor came up to her. "While you are recovering
from your surgery, we'll be running an audio-visual
reconditioning system. Its what you asked for. It'll
strip away the higher personality layers that made you
such a successful college student and professional...
When its through, you'll be just another dumb bimbo
slut. That's what you want, isn't it?"
She nodded, and Bill smiled at her.
The doctor placed a set of video lenses on her eyes
and then readied the audio system. Just before the
doctor put the plugs in her ears, he asked her, "how
extreme do you want the conditioning to be, Candace?
How far do you want us to go?"
"All the way," she said.
"Goodbye, Candace," Bill said, and then he and the
doctor left her.
Her world swam as the AV equipment activated. And then
she was fucking and sucking and cumming and she was a
slut and she was meant to be used by men and she was a
bimbo and she was dumb and repeat after me cunt cock
slut whore hole titties jugs jism cum bitch trash
cheap fucktoy and she likes her big fat titties and
she only wears high heels and she likes to eat cock
and cum is her favorite food and sluts don't think
they suck cock and sluts are objects and and sluts
talk like this and she lives for cock and she dreams
of cock and she was an object and her name was
*******
Candi woke up alone in the operating room. She sat up
gingerly, unaccustomed to the weight on her chest. She
swung her legs over the edge of the table and tip-toed
on her new pointed feet over to the mirror. She could
feel the tightness in her calves, and dimly realized
that the doctor had been good to his word-she'd never
walk in flats again.
At the mirror she took her first look at her new self.
Her breasts were huge, jutting from her chest. They
were obviously fake, and meant to look that way, and
had long nipples adorned by huge gold rings. Her waist
was tiny, as if she was wearing a corset. Vaguely she
remembered asking to have ribs removed. Her lips were
swollen with collagen implants. "Candi has cocksucking
lips," she said gleefully, in the high-pitched voice
of a bimbo.
Her nose had been reduced, and her cheekbones made
higher with collagen. Her make-up was perfect. She
leaned in close and realized that all of it, from the
high arching brows to her dark lipliner, was tattooed
on. Her piercings were the same as she'd entered with,
nose, tongue, ears, bellybutton, nipples, clit, but
she saw that new ones had been added-four rings in
each of her outer labia.
She ran a hand along her cunt and realized how long
her nails were! Her hands were adorned with inch-long
talons painted in dark burgundy; the nails were a
little thicker than was natural and seemed to be
implants. Each nail tip ended with a piercing.
She opened the closet and her eyes opened wide with
glee. A brand-new wardrobe of vinyl and plastic for
her new body! A body built for fucking and clothes to
look fuckable. There were so many choices, it was so
confusing. It took Candi ages to decide what to wear.
In the end, she settled on a black vinyl dress and
thigh-high boots with tall spikey heels.
She was admiring herself in the mirror when Bill
walked into the room. "Hi Candi," he said. His eyes
were aflame with lust, and he started to take his
pants off. Then he paused. "How are you feeling,
baby?"
She turned to look at him, and when Bill saw her, he
knew the question was pointless. There was no
intelligence in her eyes. No Candace in her eyes.
There was just a horny bimbo with one thing on her
mind. She broke eye contact and looked down at his
erect dick.
"Bill...Candi doesn't want to talk. Candi wants to
fuck! Fuck Candi!" she said in her new bimbo voice.
"Candi needs your cock in her cunt! Fuck her please!"
She was a slut now. Forever.
__________________________________________________
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