Guinea Pig, The – 7-13 · Part 2

Guinea Pig, The – 7-13 · Part 2 (2/2)
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t Joe desired in a woman. He could feel his cock stir in it's satin confinement.

"Hi. I'm Monica. I'll be your nurse from now on. And you are Mr. Watson?"

"Last time I looked. Where's the two thugs?"

"Oh they're around somewhere, I'm sure."

An attendant brought in dinner then left.

"I'll bet you're hungry Mr. Watson. You've been out for awhile."

"How long was I out? What happened to me?"

"I don't know Mr. Watson." Lied the pretty girl. "I just started on your case. You'll have to ask Dr. van Damme. Here you go. Bon appetit."

Joe realized he was starving and dug in with a vengeance, wolfing down salad, milk, rolls and butter, prime rib, mashed potatoes and gravy, and finishing with apple pie ala mode. Joe's meal had tasted pretty bland. He mentioned it to the attendant who told him he had been put on a no-salt diet on Doctor's orders

Monica left with the tray. Joe marvelled at his new found ability to put food away. It dawned on Joe that he was handling his long fingernails with no trouble. In fact, he hardly noticed them anymore.

"Boy it's amazing what the human body can adapt to," he thought. "There's got to be a way to get them off when I get out of here."

Joe hadn't examined the rest of his body and what a surprise was he in for. His eyes widened as his arm brushed against his chest. Pulling up his gown, he stared dumbfounded. What had been a case of swelling nipples were now full-blown breasts. Not quite massive, but definitely prominent.

What had been swollen nipples were now elongated cones, projecting out from abundant hemispheres of flesh. The aureoles around his nipples had continued to expand and they and the nipples were now a dark pink, almost brown.

Frightened, yet curious at the same time, Joe timidly brought his right hand up and touched his left breast. He was rewarded with a strong sensation of pleasure. He grasped the nipple between his index finger and thumb. The pleasurable feeling increased as he increased the pressure on the nipple.

He watched in amazement as the nipple responded to his touch. It enlarged and became rigid. As Joe rolled the nipple between his fingers he felt his penis awaken.

Stopping for a minute, Joe padded to the door. Satisfied that the hallway was empty, he went to the bathroom. Elated that his cock was working again, Joe raised his gown, pulled down his panties, and then sat on the toilet, fondling his breasts and stroking his cock, awash in pleasure.

Joe's cock never did become totally erect, but finally spasmed and discharged a watery impotent fluid. Joe wrote this off to it's long inactivity, wiped himself off, replaced his attire, and flushed the toilet.

Proud of his performance, he returned to bed. Smugly thinking. "So that doctor thinks she can turn me into a bimbo. Well we'll just see about that!"

He hadn't noticed how his forearms brushed against his hips as he walked.

In her office, Dr.van Damme turned away from the monitor. "So Dave, is this all part of the plan?" She asked her director of behavior modification.

"Yes Doctor. In fact, he is ahead of schedule."

"What's next Dave?'

"I understood doctor, that there were some more physical changes to be concluded before we went on psychologically."

"My next stage is to get him dressing in feminine apparel."

"And how will you accomplish that?" Asked Dr. van Damme.

"During his session with Dr. Baxter's mind machine," he used staff slang, " I had instilled in Joe, the psycho-sexual response of the typical transvestite. You may be aware that these are men who feel compelled to dress in women's clothing, and obtain great sexual stimulation and pleasure from doing so. I masked this character trait, so we need only hypnotize him, give him the release cue, and his first experience in female finery will conclude his imprinting. After that, I'd venture a guess that you couldn't keep him out of women's clothing. Would you like me to do this now?"

"No Dave, not just yet. Let's allow Joe to reach his full development. No sense wasting money on clothing now, that will no longer fit him when his tits and ass stop growing."

CHAPTER 11

Joe finished another enormous breakfast. Many days had left him no illusions as to where the food was going, but he felt no urge to diet. His breasts were expanding mounds. Jokingly he mused, "If this keeps up I may need a bra." Rejecting the notion as trivial, he gave it no further thought. Everything would be corrected once he got out of this madhouse. "Let them have their little fun. We'll see whose laughing at the end."

Joe was now aware of the fact that he had to hold his arms out away from his body as he walked. They couldn't hang straight down; his hips got in the way. He also had to swing them in an unfamiliar manner, to compensate for the oscillations of his tremendous buttocks as he walked. He felt like his whole center of gravity had shifted. Without his being aware of it, his gait had modified itself to counterbalance his new distribution of mass.

Dr. van Damme and her chief plastic surgeon watched from her office as Joe went about his morning toilet. "What are the changes you want done to this one?" Inquired the surgeon.

"Just some minor detail work; the ears pinned back, the nose bobbed and those little implants put in to give him those high sexy cheekbones. I also want his eyes opened for more expression, and his lips made as full as your skill allows."

"No problem there. I'm ready when you are."

"Good. In a couple of days then."

By now Joe had dried off, and Monica was giving him a rubdown on the bed.

"You may find this interesting Doctor," said Dr. van Damme.

"What's that?"

"The subject is being applied an experimental medication that will make us wealthy beyond our dreams. We have had great success retarding the aging process using injections of fetal material, however, many people objected on ethical grounds. The lab was able to extract the compound that produced that result and was able to synthesize it. Applied in a regimen of topical application it reverses the effect of aging on the skin."

"I remember the millions that poured out for Retin-A which was of dubious effectiveness," stated the surgeon.

"The money involved here will make that seem like a child's kiddy bank. Take this subject for instance. For several months now his skin has been replacing itself under the influence of female hormones. It now has all the characteristics of female skin, but he is still thirty-one years old. When his treatment is complete he will have the skin texture of an eighteen year old girl."

"Mmmm. Interesting."

Joe relaxed and savored the tingling feeling that covered his body. It was almost as if his skin was alive. He wondered if he would get a chance to masturbate this morning. His cock and nipples stiffened in anticipation.

Meanwhile… Back in New York.

Joe Watson's son, Robert, confronted his newly appointed guardian, Gloria Watson. "I don't care what the court says, my father wanted you out of his life. Just because he never changed his will doesn't give you the right to take over my life."

"Now Bob, that's no way to talk. It seems to me he didn't want you cluttering up his life either. I understand that, except for your support money and a birthday card once a year, you never saw or heard from him. Let's put the past behind us and work through these hard times together."

"Fuck you! Just wait till I get control of my money. I'll see to it that you're finished in this town."

"Fine Bob. If that's how you want it… "

CHAPTER 12

Joe awoke from a tortured dream, only to find his reality just as severe. He couldn't open his eyes or move his lips. His throat burned, his mouth was dry, and every part of his face ached. Just then he felt the sting of a needle entering his arm, relief, and… blackness.

Joe sipped his milkshake. That's all the nourishment he'd had for some time now. He wore big braces on his teeth which prevented the intake of more solid food. The pads had been removed from his eyes and lips. He still couldn't speak.

Dr. van Damme, Monica, and several other people filed into his room. One of the men went to work removing Joe's braces. "I've straightened, capped, and evened his teeth up." Looking in Joe's mouth, he said "They're flawless."

Dr. van Damme and another doctor looked at Joe's face critically, the surgeon grabbing his head and turning it this way and that.

"Exquisite Doctor. Once again you've outdone yourself," said Dr. van Damme.

The surgeon acknowledged her compliment with a nod.

"So what do you have to say Joe?" asked Dr. van Damme.

Joe tried to tell her that he was fine but no matter what he did, no sound came from his mouth.

"What's the matter Joe? Cat got your tongue?"

The crowd laughed.

By trying to hum Joe was finally able to produce a noise. It was a high-pitched squeak.

"O. K., enough fooling around. What's wrong Joe, is that you've been given a new larynx. Many people loose theirs to throat cancer very year and an manmade one that won't be noticed will allow thousands to speak again and rejoin society. The only difficulty is that the muscles that operate your new voice, function differently from your old ones. Mrs. Johnson here will be your speech therapist and teach you how to speak again."

The crowd departed and Joe was left alone for his first session with Mrs. Johnson. As he tried to speak he noticed that, in addition to his throat, his lips felt odd.

The following days reminded Joe of the movie "My Fair Lady". He felt like Eliza Doolittle learning to speak. Not only that, but after several weeks he spoke like her too! Not with a British accent, but in a sweet soprano voice.

Two things about this latest development bothered Joe in particular. First, he had to learn to operate new muscles to pronounce each word. This was a long process and so far he had only the vocabulary of a first grader, but Mrs. Johnson had told him that her sessions with him were almost over. Secondly, he didn't like the enunciation patterns that Mrs. Johnson had imparted to him; he now spoke in the slow breathy drawl of a seductive young woman.

CHAPTER 13

One morning, Monica and another girl entered Joe's room. Joe was wearing a pink satin chemise gown with spaghetti straps, trying to ignore what was under it. His breasts had finally stopped growing, but it was too late as far as Joe was concerned; the new appendages were immense.

Joe didn't joke about needing a bra anymore. Now he wondered when he'd be given one to take the considerable strain of supporting the pendulous mammaries off of his pectoral muscles.

"Good morning Joe. This is Betsy. She's a cosmetologist and will be working on you today."

Joe groaned inwardly. He'd suspected that this would happen sooner or later. It seemed that every occurrence brought him closer to Dr. van Damme's promised outcome.

Betsy fussed around Joe's face. He felt her applying make-up to his lips, eyelids, and cheeks. When she was done, she took Joe's picture. The process was repeated several times.

Betsy was talking with Dr. van Damme as Dave Weinstein, Monica, and a strange man looked on.

"What color is his hair going to be," asked Betsy.

"Blonde." Replied Dr. van Damme. Thinking "As if we ever had a choice."

"In that case, I'd recommend this style."

"That's too subdued. I had something a little more extreme in mind."

"That we can do." Said Betsy, getting some colored markers and making changes to the close-up photographs of Joe's made up face. When she was finished Dr. van Damme smiled and nodded her approval.

"What do you think?" She asked the strange man.

Looking at the pictures, he replied, "No problem. Child's play. I'll go get my gear ready."

After he left, Dr. van Damme addressed Dave Weinstein. "While Joe is under for this, I want you to remove the block on his transvestite programming."

"Please get up and come with me Joe."

Joe had been expecting lunch, which was late. Instead here was Monica telling him to come with her. Too apprehensive to complain, Joe swung out of bed, slipped on his high heeled mules, and grabbed a robe which matched his chemise.

Joe tried to remain self-possessed as he followed Monica down the hall, but was not very successful. He knew he presented a spectacle; a bald man with the figure of a centerfold. Walking in his high heels produced a loud racket which resounded throughout the corridors. With each step his large breasts bounced awkwardly, the nipples rubbing against his satin gown, providing unwanted stimulation. He tried to straighten up and not swing his hips so much. This made his breasts even more prominent and walking more tedious.

They entered a room containing a bed and some unfamiliar gadgets.

"Strip and lie down on the bed."

Joe shed his robe and chemise. He felt uneasy, not being aware of his implanted need to conceal his breasts.

The strange man entered and Joe experienced intense embarrassment and instinctively covered his breasts with his arms. He was grateful when Monica covered him with a sheet, over which she placed a plastic mat for protection.

Monica produced a gas mask. Knowing the futility of resistance, Joe breathed deeply. As his awareness ebbed Joe saw the man raise what looked like a dentists drill and attach a bottle of red fluid to it.

"Wait a minute, that's a… "

The tattooist turned on his needle and started to outline the unconscious man's appealing lips. He thought to himself, "Real pretty, this one's gonna be real pretty."

Guinea Pig, The – 7-13 · Part 2 (2/2)
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