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Chapter 3
One might imagine that I would be quite upset by the changes I was already aware of. I was not, however; and though I was somewhat bothered by my wants, it was minor when compared to my seeming lack of control over my actions intermingled with the knowledge that another was utterly in control.
Long into the night, or so I imagine, I lay contemplating my plight. I knew who I was. But was I who I thought I was? I didn’t know. I only knew another was in control of my body. Then I remembered her name: Brandi. The name John had been calling me. But even with the name I had no idea who she was. I only knew she was there. But was I her or was she me? I didn’t know. I wasn’t even sure I was me or if I truly existed.
I rolled over to my side and watched my big tits roll with me. Quickly, I left the bed and ran into the bathroom, switched on the lights and looked in the mirror.
There, standing before me was me. Enormous tits, perfect and round sat high on my chest. Still, they covered much of my belly from view. I lifted them and found them lighter than I had imagined. Then I leaned in close to the mirror and inspected my large, bow shaped lips and the slight part between.
“What have I done?” I whispered. Only my words were nearly unintelligible.
I opened my mouth to see the tiny hole between my lips, the teeth behind them. I pushed a finger in and found them to be exactly as I remembered.
Remembering the bathroom had a full length mirror behind the door I closed it and further inspected myself as a whole. What I saw was a beautiful, womanly caricature. My thighs and calves were larger and shapelier than I remembered, and I could see the slight striation of the muscles. I turned and looked at my ass, finding it to be larger and rounder than before. I faced the mirror again, lifted my breasts and saw the belly of a supermodel. How had this happened? I had no idea when or how I had come to look like this. Then I wondered if I had not always looked as I did now. But I knew I had not. Still, I was unsure.
Sleepy, but still contemplating my discoveries, I remembered who I was. I was Michelle. Excited, I nearly ran to bed. I had to tell John I was back. But I didn’t know where I had gone or where I was back from. For that matter I hadn’t really known I was gone. Was I back? I was utterly confused.
I climbed into bed beside Daddy, shaking his shoulder to wake him up. With the light from the bathroom streaming into the bedroom I saw him open his eyes.
“What is it Brandi?” he asked, concern registering on his face.
As I opened my mouth to speak I felt myself fade. Then I heard, “Daddy, will you make me smooth like those girls?”
But that wasn’t what I wanted! I wanted to tell him I was here, that I was Michelle, not Brandi.
“What do you mean by smooth?” he asked us.
“My pussy, Daddy. I want a smooth pussy like the other girls,” we told him.
John rolled over, put his arm around me and pulled us to him. “Let’s talk about this in the morning, Brandi. I’m sleeping.”
We giggled. “All right, Daddy. But I want a smooth pussy.”
I cannot say with any sort of certainty when my next period of awareness began. It seemed to be the following day. But it could have been days or weeks later. Regardless, those time frames meant nothing to me, nor do they now. What I can say is that I became a sort of voyeur, watching, listening and feeling the life that was being led before me. But, distressed as I was I never fought. It seemed right to me regardless of how wrong I knew it to be.
At any rate, I woke one morning to find myself facing a terrible need to wake John with a blow job. Still asleep, he gave no notice of me as I worked my way under the covers, stirring only when I sucked his flaccid cock into my mouth.
“I need to pee, Brandi,” he told me.
As often as he had called me by that name it struck me as odd. Nonetheless, it was me and I knew it. More importantly, as much as I knew it not to be my name I knew it was.
Freeing his cock from my mouth, I asked, “Will you pee in my mouth, Daddy?”
He gave a chuckle, told me he would, and then got up and told me to kneel at his feet.
“I love your pee, Daddy,” I heard us say.
Disgusted, I fought to stop myself from sucking his cock into my mouth. But I was without control. And though I knew I was another, and that she was controlling my body, I still didn’t really know who she was or why she was there. Worse, I couldn’t tell if she were me or if I were she.
John looked down and smiled at me as I sucked his cock into my mouth. A moment later he began emptying his bladder.
“Was that good, baby?” he asked.
I pulled back, releasing his cock and told him it was good. “Can I suck your cock now?” I asked, sounding just like a little girl.
“Just get me hard,” he said. “I think I want to fuck that big ass of yours.”
I heard us giggle. Then I took his cock in my mouth and began working it as best I could. When he was hard I pulled back, climbed on the bed and got on my hands and knees.
For the first time since I had come into awareness I knew what to expect. He would deflate the plug in my ass, remove it and put it in my mouth. Then he would fuck my ass, maybe cum in my mouth, and then tell me what a good bimbo I was for him. Again, I knew I should be appalled. But I wasn’t. I was excited, and I looked forward to every disgusting moment.
“Am I a good little bimbo?” we asked just before he pushed the plug into our mouth.
“Yes, Brandi. You are a good little bimbo. The best,” he told me.
As John positioned his cock at my asshole, I could think of nothing but the word ‘bimbo’ and what it meant. Was I a bimbo? Was it Brandi who was the bimbo? But I knew the answer without thinking. I was the bimbo. I was Brandi the bimbo. But I wasn’t. I was someone else. I was me. But, somehow, that still didn’t seem quite right.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the delicious stretching of my asshole around his cock. Surprised it felt so good I found myself pushing back against him, wanting to get him as deep inside me as possible. But I had never liked ass fucking. It was unpleasant, painful and disgusting. Yet I was enjoying his penetration. But it wasn’t just the physical sensation that thrilled me. It was the fulfillment of who I was, confirmation I was a bimbo. Bimbos are for ass fucking and cock sucking. They were for sexual pleasure; and I was fulfilling my purpose.
Jarred from the moment by my thoughts I was unable to fully enjoy the moment, nor were his vigorous thrusts enough to pull me back. Instead, I returned to pondering my status as a bimbo. I knew what it meant, what its significance was. I knew Brandi to be a bimbo, though I didn’t know how I knew.
John slapped my ass hard, making me scream out. Suddenly I was back in the moment, enjoying his hard thrusts. Moaning, I felt myself thrusting back at him.
“Fuck me with that big ass!” he demanded.
Without thought I pushed myself against him, rocking my ass to and fro as I fought to get him deeper with each ensuing thrust. We moaned in pleasure, feeling every inch of his cock as the intensity grew.
“Does it feel good, Brandi?” he asked, reaching up and pulling the plug from my mouth.
The little girl voice told him it did. Then we told him how we loved being ass fucked, and how we wanted him deeper. “Promise you’ll cum in my throat,” we said.
I wondered how it was we could want him to cum in our throat and why it was so. I wondered how it was we could so revel in being used and having the soiled plug in our mouth. It wasn’t me. But it was us. The more I thought of it the more thrilling it became to us.
We continued pounding against him, reveling at the sensation of being filled and at the prospect of tasting his cum. Only we would barely taste his cum and I knew it. His cock would be driven into the back of our throat as he came. Then his cum would flow down our throat and into our belly. We would hold him there, waiting in anticipation until he peed. It was always this way.
John pulled out and turned us over. Then he lifted our legs and pushed them down, doubling us over. My ass was filled again and he was mauling our tits. But they weren’t really our tits, they were Brandi’s.
There it was! Brandi was not me. Only she was me. I was her. We were one. But such a thing was not possible. I knew it could not be. How could we be the same person? But we were. We were two people in one body!
Confused, I watched him as he rammed into my ass and mauled my tits. I realized then that he never used my pussy anymore. It was for decoration. But why? Then I remembered I wanted my pussy “taken away,” wanted to be smooth like those other girls. Jealousy reared its head and I became determined to have my pussy removed.
John pinched my nipples, twisted them slightly and smiled. “Such wonderful tits,” he whispered.
I giggled. I loved it when he complemented my tits. It made me feel like a perfect bimbo; and nothing made me feel better than being a perfect bimbo.
He pulled out of my ass and stepped back, telling me to suck his cock. My want to feel him in my throat was overpowering, and I was quickly kneeling on the floor with his cock in my mouth.
“That’s it, Brandi, suck me,” he moaned. “Your mouth feels so good.”
I throat fucked his cock, rubbing my faux teeth over his shaft as I sucked. John jerked as he grasped my head between his hands. Then he filled my throat with cum.
When it was over I looked up at him with admiration, swallowing the slimy remainder of his pleasure. Then I giggled. “That was fun, Daddy,” I told him.
“You’re such a good bimbo,” he told me, staring down and smiling at me. “You’ll get plenty more today. We have a whole weekend to enjoy.”
True to his word, I became John’s sex toy and frequent toilet the entire weekend.
For some time after (I don’t know how long but it was for a while) I maintained awareness. For that I was quite grateful, in spite of my utter lack ability to control any aspect of my life. It was, however, quite predictable and even duller than I might have imagined.
Every day seemed a repetition of the previous day. After acting as John’s toilet I would suck his cock. Following his orgasm I received an enema, followed by a quick shower. I was then given my liquid sustenance for the morning after which he would leave for work.
Shortly after John left I would follow a routine of machine assisted exercise that included a lengthy walk on the treadmill, calf raises, squats, leg extensions, crunches and a few other exercises, the names of which escape me.
My day’s work concluded with a cold shower after which I would sit in front of the television and stare at the blank screen as I waited for John’s return.
When John came home I would routinely act as his toilet, suck his cock or get ass fucked. Then we would have dinner and watch television until bed time.
The night always closed with a hard ass fucking or blow job, followed by an enema. Sometimes it was the other way around and sometimes I was his toilet. Either way, the routine was roughly the same.
In short, life was entirely routine and without any sort of stimulus that was not sexual, related to food or some sort of toilet necessity. Were it not for Brandi’s ability to shut down our mind I would have been bored beyond compare. As it was, her inability to think, and her constant want to please John was the only thing that made life bearable.
http://www.a1adultebooks.com/ebooks/a1129.htm
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