A Futa Slave and Seven Maids

If I was no one before, I was certainly no one after. I wasn't pretty, or sexy, or anything really. I was the sort of girl no one notices at parties because all eyes are drawn to others with looks or confidence or sheer desperation. At the age of twenty I was a poor student, and a lonely virgin, and increasingly wondering whether I would ever graduate, because I certainly wasn't one of the smart ones. Or perhaps it's just that I'm bad with letters and numbers, so that it takes forever to do what others find a breeze.

I wasn't always poor. When I was a child, my father was wealthy indeed, but every year I saw the cracks in his empire grow deeper as competitors and the authorities circled like sharks. Too many bad investments, too much tax evasion, all catching up with him, not helped at all by my mother's prolonged illness. After that, not a week went by without fresh accusations and past scandals revealed in the national media, while what was left of my father's business fragmented and failed.

He did his best to shield me from it. If there was one pure and honest thing about him through it all, it was his love for my mother and me. Until we too were taken from him. My mother by death, and I by force. Abducted in the dark of night. Sometimes I wonder if anyone noticed.

How long they worked on me I have no idea. I drifted in and out of consciousness, enough to wonder dreamily at the bandages that wrapped me and the tubes that fed liquids into my flesh. I had no idea where I was or what was happening to me, but didn't really care. I wasn't in pain. If anything, I was in pleasure, though I had no urge to react to it.

When I did awake, finally, properly, the first thing I noticed was my breasts. It's impossible not to be instantly aware of a huge additional weight on your chest. I mean, it wasn't until I tried to move them off me that I realised they were actually my breasts, triple the size of my former B-cups, and then all I could do was stare at them dumbfounded.

They held their shape well, managing to seem almost perky, and although they felt slightly firmer to the touch than I remembered, they didn't look fake. No, they looked real, and very aroused, with thick, swollen nipples jutting out from wide areolae. But I wasn't aroused. I know this because as soon as I touched those nipples, a tentative exploration with gentle fingertips, the abrupt rush of sensation triggered an unmistakable arousal.

I closed my eyes as a guttural moan of pleasure escaped my lips, and I lay there uncaring about anything save the touch of my fingers on my new, perfect breasts and exquisitely sensitive nipples. I pressed my legs together, trying somehow to ease the building pressure within, my clit throbbing with sudden need, and something else too, unfamiliar, a pulsing weight.

I peered down through the valley made by my breasts, and screamed at the sight of the erect cock glaring back at me with its weeping eyes. Not only was it of a length and thickness that would give pause to a far more experienced woman than I, but there were two holes at the tip, both glistening with clear, viscous precum.

"What the fuck!" I cried, scrambling to my feet, looking around desperately for something that would help me make sense of my predicament. My legs were so weak that I nearly fell, my balance not helped by the additional and still unexpected weight of my enlarged breasts and wholly new cock.

But what I saw in the mirror quite took my breath away - because it wasn't me. There were echoes of the former me in the new me, but it was as if an artist had discarded a rough draft and created a masterpiece. Apart from that huge and lurid cock, I was the very essence of feminine beauty, tall, slender and yet curved.

And a sex object. It wasn't just the hard cock and the huge breasts with their jutting nipples, it was the natural pout to my lips, as if the purpose of my mouth was first and foremost the sucking of cocks.

Apart from the bed and mirror, the room was bare. There was no window, and the only door was firmly closed. I wasn't yet ready to brave the unknown outside yet, not while I was still naked anyway, and besides the heat of my arousal was undiminished.

Lying on the bed, I chose to ignore my sinister new cock, and instead worked my clit with one hand and alternated between my nipples with the other. Although I had masturbated often enough before, never had my body reacted like this before, as if it was not I but some animal that controlled it.

Once started, there was no thought of stopping. The fingers of my left hand pinched and tugged increasingly roughly at my nipples, while the fingers of my right plunged furiously into my vagina, my thumb stroking my clit, my hips writhing wildly in response. The tension slowly coiled and intensified within me, and the bare walls of the room echoed my moans and whimpers, as well as squelching of my fingers in my incredibly wet pussy.

I licked my lips, wishing I did have a cock to suck on. I'd never actually done that before, but I'd often wondered what it was like. Now that I had a cock of my own, I wondered what it would be like to have someone suck mine. I really didn't want to be a virgin any more. Certainly not now I had been given this amazing body. I didn't want to do anything except fuck, and fuck, and -

"Fuck!" I screamed as my body contracted with painful intensity, and a wave of orgasmic pleasure washed through me. Cum splashed across my face and breasts, twin jets of pearly white fluid launching from my dancing cock with each blissful convulsion. I could deny it no longer. I grabbed the shaft with my left hand and stroked it, prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible, part of my mind wondering how I could produce cum at all, let alone so much, when didn't have any balls.

Quite overwhelmed by the experience, I lay back with my eyes closed, breathing heavily, the not unpleasant taste of my own cum in my mouth, and within seconds I had drifted off to sleep.

*

I awoke on my back, wrists cuffed together below the bench I lay on. My skin had been cleaned while I slept, but that was the least of my concerns. Chains anchored to the ceiling lifted my ankles high, spreading my legs wide, allowing a rotating wheel of ostrich feathers to tickle my labia.

Perhaps it was the same featureless room as before. Perhaps another. It hardly mattered. My cock was erect, stiffening and relaxing with each feather that caressed my pussy, precum trailing from the holes at its tip and pooling on my belly. The memory of how good it had felt to stroke that powerfully thick length had me tugging uselessly at the short chain between my wrists.

There was nothing I could do for myself. I could only endure the too delicate teasing of my clit by feathers that were increasingly wet from my arousal, so that I felt almost as if I were being licked rather than tickled. Round and round that wheel went, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, tormenting me, building and maintaining my arousal but denying me any release from the tension.

I wondered how long it had been since my abduction. Was my father searching for me? What would he think if he could see me, so unnaturally transformed into someone's sex toy, and actually liking it? I knew I should feel bad about liking it so much, but mostly I just wanted whoever had done this to me to stop teasing me and start fucking me.

I got my wish. The man who entered the room was instantly recognisable. I'd never actually met Brand before, but he was a long-time business rival of my father. About the same age too. Brand had recently grown very wealthy at my father's expense. I knew his face from the newspapers and the television, and my father's ranting fury. Of course I hated him too.

To be so utterly exposed and vulnerable to him, naked, aroused, bound and helpless, was horrifying. Of all the people, known and unknown, who could have walked through that door, why did it have to be Brand?

But of course it was him. Who else would have chosen me of all people for this fate?

The wheel of feathers continued its relentless assault on my still very aroused pussy as Brand circled around me. The height of the bench put me level with his waist as he stood beside me, looking down into my eyes. "How do you like this body I've given you?" he asked.

Before I could form an answer, his fingers caressed my swollen and too neglected nipples, first one then the other, forcing a moan of pleasure from my lips. He wrapped a hand about my cock and held it still with a firm pressure. "Do you like this?"

"Oh God yes," I said, suddenly so close to coming. The moment was so surreal! This man that I had never met before, and that I hated, a fifty-something white male imbued with all the confidence and entitlement of the ultra-rich, had kidnapped me and turned me into his wet-dream idea of a woman - with a cock that he was now holding in his hand. And all I could think was how good it felt to be held like that.

"I want to watch you come," he said.

"Please!" I whispered. Right then I didn't care who he was. I didn't care how weird all this was. I just needed, more desperately than ever in my life, a grand climactic release.

"I want to watch you come," he repeated, "while I fuck you."

Oh. That was different. Or was it? This wasn't how I imagined losing my virginity. It certainly wasn't who I could ever have imagined losing it to. But I really, really wanted to feel a hard cock thrusting into me, making me finally into a real woman - albeit one with a cock. And it's not like I was stuck for choice. "Okay," I whispered.

He laughed, a little cruelly. "Ask me properly. Make me believe you want it."

It was so humiliating! But having already decided I wanted him, no way was I giving up that easily. If I needed to act like a porn star in order to satisfy his perverse fantasies, so be it. "Fuck me, Brand," I hissed. "Fuck me hard, and make me come all over my tits." I could feel my cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

It was just an act, maybe, but just saying those words made me feel like a slut, not so much a porn actor as a porn character, as if I'd soon be begging him to fuck my tits and come all over my face.

Brand moved the rotating wheel of feathers away, and I sighed with relief. I watched torn between eager curiosity and apprehension as he tugged his trousers down, and his Y-fronts too, revealing a semi-hard cock that would easily match mine for size. It's one thing to have a huge cock, something else entirely to see someone else's huge cock preparing to breach your virgin pussy.

He hardened swiftly as he positioned himself between my legs, that were still stretched wide and lifted towards the ceiling, and all too soon I felt that soft, bulbous head pressing between my labia. "Be gentle," I begged him.

Brand wrapped both hands about my cock, gripping it firmly, and that sweet rush of sensation distracted me for a brief moment, and in that same moment he thrust into me, stretching my vagina with his phenomenal girth, this fresh flood of sensation pushing me over the edge, convulsing in the throes of orgasm, the walls of my vagina tightening about the head of his cock, his hands containing my pulsing cock as it spat twin streams of creamy cum over my breasts, some hitting my cheeks as well.

Between contractions, he worked his own cock deeper into me, astonishing me with each thrust at how deep inside me he was able to go, stretching me deliciously at every point. Somehow I was able to take every inch of him. Brand released my cock, which was still hard but the flow of cum had eased to a lazy trickle, and instead massaged my cum-soaked breasts, pausing occasionally to scoop up some from between my breasts and feed it to me. I didn't mind. It tasted okay.

His cock was restless within me, however, and he soon started fucking me properly, with short, sharp thrusts at first, but increasing in ardour until it seemed his whole length was slamming into me. From time to time he caressed my cock. It spurted fresh cum every time my pleasure crested, for Brand's vigorous fucking rewarded me with multiple orgasms.

His stamina was certainly impressive for his age. Wielding such a huge cock was clearly an effort for him, but the expression on his face was pure determination.

With a cry of victory Brand came at last, his face tight with exquisite pain as his cock erupted within me. I could feel his cum pulsing out deep inside me, and wondered if should be worried about getting pregnant. He stood with his eyes closed, his cock buried fully within me, until its pulsing tremors ended at last.

Opening his eyes, he looked at me. "You are mine now," he said. "Mine to use however I like. Behave, and I will use you well. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Of course I understood. I didn't even mind - not if meant being regularly fucked like this. "What about my father?"

"Tell him what you like."

*

There were seven maids, all dressed in French maid uniforms that did little to conceal their lack of underwear and wearing impractical black patent leather sandals with high heels. They were completely hairless, heads, genitals and everywhere, their eyes were a blend of pink and blue, and their lips an intense pink that looked like it must be lipstick but wasn't. Strangest of all, they had a way of talking to each other that was quite soundless, almost as if they were telepathic, but really, I learned later, it was just subvocal radio communication.

They too were products of the surgical techniques that had transformed me. They, however, were not sex objects, or at least not primarily. They were maids, programmed somehow, using hypnosis perhaps, to love their life of service, whether cleaning the rooms, providing food and drink, or performing more intimate duties - such as washing my cum-drenched body while I lay there still bound helpless on the bench.

With a sponge and warm, soapy water she cleaned me with loving dedication, paying particular attention to my breasts. I couldn't help staring at her albino eyes, but she didn't seem to mind. "What's your name?" I asked her.

"Heather," she said. "You have such beautiful breasts, Mistress. May I kiss them?" Her accent had a slight Scottish lilt that matched her name.

I had always considered myself straight, but the idea of her pink lips sucking on my nipples stirred my appetite - which had been thoroughly sated just minutes before. "You may," I said, and sighed with pleasure as her mouth descended upon my left breast, her tongue teasing my nipple as she sucked gentle.

My cock hardened swiftly in response. My hands were still tied beneath me, out of reach of that demanding shaft. "You can kiss my cock as well, if you like," I added hopefully.

"I'd like that very much, Mistress," she said, grinning at me, and bent to take it in her mouth. The sheer size of it made the task difficult, but there was no faulting her enthusiasm or her determination. Nor was there any denying how good it felt to have my new cock in her mouth, her pink lips stretched tight about the shaft. With one hand she teased and pinched my nipples, with the other she stroked my long shaft, and almost immediately I was building towards another climax, begging her, "Please! Please!"

Her fingers brushed my clit each time her hand reached the base of the shaft, and the combined stimulation of cock, nipples and clit brought me rapidly to the precipice and over. "I'm coming!" I cried in warning, but she continued sucking on my cock as my cum filled her mouth and squeezed out past her lips. I could see her throat working as she drank still more of that seemingly endless supply, until I lay there, drained, panting, and more than satisfied.

"Thank you, Heather," I said, smiling gratefully.

"No, thank you, Mistress," she said. After sponging me clean again, she hesitated on the point of leaving. "Shall I undo the restraints, Mistress?"

"Yes, please," I said, feeling more than a little foolish that I hadn't thought to ask her earlier.

*

I was a prisoner in a gilded cage. My en suite bedroom was luxurious, the lounge and dining room were tastefully decorated and very comfortable, and the semi-enclosed courtyard had a hot tub where you could relax and look up through the glass ceiling at the sky and stars. There was even an indoor pool, a gym and a games room. There was a vast database of films and books, but no internet. No means of communicating with the outside world.

Everything was provided, except freedom. Brand let me make one phone call, to my father.

"Hi, Dad."

"Sarah! Where are you? I've been worried sick!"

What was I supposed to tell him? That I had been abducted by his bitter rival, transformed bodily into a sex toy, imprisoned for life, unlikely ever to see him again, and somehow not only resigned to my fate but ready to embrace it? (Not helped by the fact that Brand was watching me as I stood there naked, cum suddenly dripping from my pussy. Heather had only cleaned my outside.)

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"Never mind. I'm just glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you? Where are you?"

I sighed heavily. "Dad... I'm not coming home."

"What? Damn it, Sarah. Where are you? Talk to me."

My vision blurred with tears. "Dad!" I shouted. "Listen! I'm fine. I'm safe. You don't have to worry about me. But I'm not coming home again. Ever. I'm sorry."

We were both quiet for a long time. I brushed the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. "Okay," he said quietly. "You know I'll always be here for you."

"I know. I love you, Dad."

"You too."

And that was it. My last contact with the outside world, apart from Brand's infrequent visits. There was only the house (whose windows all looked inward), the maids (who could pass through the doors that were denied me, but showed little interest in what was beyond), and Fred.

Fred was my fellow prisoner, and much like me in appearance. Indeed, like me, he had the appearance of a woman with huge breasts and an average-sized cock. Fred, however, was not, and had never been, a woman. He had balls, and no vagina. "The mornings are the worst," he told me. (By 'mornings' he really meant early afternoons.) "Until I've had coffee, I just feel ridiculous. I mean, look at these!" He lifted his breasts and jiggled them. "I wouldn't mind so much if they were smaller." He released them with a wistful sigh. "Also, I really don't like it when Brand fucks my tits. The rest I don't mind so much."

His lips, like mine, were plump with a natural pout to them. I couldn't help wondering what they would look like wrapped around my cock.

*

Brand was often away for weeks at a time, but I was endlessly horny. Indeed, after the day he took my virginity so spectacularly, Brand disappeared for what felt like months. Doing, I suppose, whatever it is that ruthless billionaires do.

But that first night I fell asleep in his arms. I'd been lying alone for an hour, unable to sleep, my thoughts too full of everything and everyone I'd likely never see again, thinking also of my strange new body with its exaggerated sexuality, and how utterly bizarre it was to have a cock at all, let alone this oversized double-shooter.

Of course I couldn't sleep. But then Brand was there, kissing me hungrily while his hand caressed my hardening length.

"Why did you do this to me?" I asked.

He chuckled. "I knew the only way to have the perfect woman was to make her myself."

"What about Fred?"

"A trial run. A prototype. Far from perfect."

"Am I perfect?"

"Perhaps."

He rolled me onto my hands and knees, and took me from behind, doggy-style. This time there was no gentle beginning, but rather a rough thrusting until his full length was buried in me. I loved it, the familiar stretching of my vagina, the friction exciting my clit. I wondered how women could ever be satisfied with a merely average cock. I certainly wouldn't be.