Brain Transplant

My sex drive presented yet another challenge. It which had been a bit suppressed after giving birth, had returned stronger than ever, and at times I struggled to push daydreams of Biana's cock out of my mind. It didn't go unnoticed, and I could tell some of the people I dealt with were concerned that I had kind of mental impairment or substance abuse problem. I was also concerned, because I just couldn't concentrate or reliably behave like a responsible mother.

Being a bit of a danger to myself was something I'd learned to tolerate, but being a danger to my kids was not. I just didn't know what I could do about it.

I wasn't thinking about risks to the twins that brisk winter afternoon because I was deep in a fantasy about Biana jumping out of the shrubbery and fucking me silly. Ironically, that also made it harder to recognize that it had actually happened.

Well, not exactly. Biana had pulled up in the back of an SUV rather that bursting from the bushes, but either way, it took a moment for me to really believe what I was seeing.

"Stacie! GET. IN." Biana commanded, and that finally cut through my confusion. I handed the twins to her waiting arms, from which she transferred them to car seats already installed for the purpose.

"Just bung it in the back," she instructed me when I started trying to fold up the twin pram, and within seconds we were moving again and she was preventing me from kissing her.

"Holy shit, you're a mess, aren't you?" she said with a little laugh.

"Oh my god, Biana, I'm dying," I complained, wiping at my lips.

"Right in front of the kids?" she taunted me.

"They're, like, little babies. They won't care at all. I mean, they're asleep again already."

"Such a slut," she said flatteringly, and put her hands on my boobs. "That bra must be custom. What size?"

"28B" I said.

"B?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Can't say my Bs any more," I explained, embarrassed but also, in that minute, very excited to tell her.

"You can't pronounce Vs because of your lips?" she confirmed.

I nodded emphatically. It's impossible to explain how overwhelming my need was at that moment. I've never been addicted to any drugs, but I imagine it was not very different from a desperate junkie chasing a fix.

"Is that what you want?" she asked me, probably referring to my lips.

"Biana! Please?" I pleaded, reaching toward her skirt.

She grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands up over my head. Probably to keep me from molesting her, but it also brought my ludicrous rack into contact with her more plausible chest, and it was enough to make me let down slightly. "Uh oh, I'm leaking," I murmured to her, twisting my torso to make my milk tanks surge back and forth under her nose.

"You're incorrigible," she growled, but I won, because we exchanged places with the twin pram in the back of the vehicle where she could fuck me up against the tinted window without being in the twins' line of sight. The sight of my huge tits pressed against the glass and coating it with cream when I orgasmed did almost cause a wreck behind us, but I was in no mental condition to consider the danger I represented to other drivers.

Protection

I felt both proud and embarrassed later as I sat across from Biana looking and feeling a little more sensible. The driver on the other side of the privacy partition might not know what had just happened, but anyone who opened a door to the passenger compartment would be able to smell the sex, even if they couldn't see the cum I could feel drooling from my well-filled cunt.

"You really are hopeless, aren't you?" Biana asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

I shrugged. "I'm not like this all the time. I just... I've been fantasizing about this ever since that night."

"Is that why you spilled everything to the feds?" she challenged me.

"They would have figured it out once the twins were born. Then I probably would have been sent to prison and the twins pretty much orphaned."

"I would have taken care of them."

"How could I assume that when I never heard from you once? I didn't even know if you knew about them. Or if you cared."

She was quiet for a moment. "Am I on their birth certificates?"

I sighed. "No. It didn't seem safe."

"You think they're safe without it?"

"No," I said.

Her blank expression became more of a frown. I controlled my urge to touch her in a way that would make her feel better, and eventually she said, "I can protect you. All of you."

"How?"

"Well, first we'll get married in Vegas."

"Oh my god yes!" I cheered.

"You haven't even heard the rest yet," she complained.

"Come on, Miss Unromantic! You just proposed to me! Let me be excited!"

"Well, I don't know about you, but this isn't exactly how I had planned to get married," she grumped, but her smile said she wasn't that dissatisfied.

I bit my lip. "Maybe I can show you how happy I intend to make you?"

"Aren't you worried about what it's going to be like married to an international fugitive?"

"Maybe later," I said.

"Are you just going along with this because you're horny?" she asked.

"No. But I am really horny."

"I couldn't help but notice," she said with a little laugh.

"It's your fault, after all."

"I didn't make you like this!"

"I know," I said. "But you did make yourself pretty much my ideal, and you haven't fucked me near enough yet."

"But if I had, you might not have said yes?" she asked.

"No, I'd definitely still say yes, but I might be able to worry about..." I shrugged, because I couldn't think of any downsides. "Stuff."

"You're incorrigible," she told me.

"You already said that once," I said, freeing a breast from my top and bra. "I'm leaking again."

She swallowed hard, and got hard, too.

It was a long way to Las Vegas from Portland, so we had to stop for the night. I thought we might have to just pull off someplace unobtrusive to avoid using credit cards and other payments that would surely be tracked, but she had her driver take us to a ski resort near the border that accepted cryptocurrency, where she checked us in under her real name, somewhat to my surprise.

Our room was en-suite with some additional staff who appeared to have already been there. One woman who didn't seem to speak English took the twins into her care, which allowed Biana to fuck the rest of my pent-up libido out of me. While I was thus placated, she told me how I was going to need to act like I was a brainless trophy wife, and I assured her that I was, in fact, a brainless trophy wife.

"You are not brainless," she said, sounding torn between irritation and reassurance.

"Okay, a cow-brained trophy wife," I said, mischievously, because she was at that moment milking me into the sink while I was on all fours above the bathroom countertop.

"I shouldn't have called you that," she said apologetically, referring to a moment when she'd called me a cow because I'd spurted on her. I'd loved it at the time, even though I'd also been embarrassed.

"No, I love being your trophy cow slash wife. I'd wear cow ears and a tail if you asked me to. Or a bunny costume, or whatever made you fuck me harder."

It was mostly my sex drive talking, but I wasn't pretending per se, just a bit carried away.

Biana wasn't fooled, though I could tell that she had some doubts, and in the morning when she asked me how I was feeling, I could tell she wasn't just asking because I was walking funny.

"Good," I said. "I wish we could smash again, but I'm a bit sore. I could..." I made a little 'O' with my mouth and mimed jacking her off into my mouth with both hands.

"Are you always going to be like this?" she asked.

"Not always. I could probably get by with once or twice a day if you just take care of me," I speculated, though looking at her looking at me kept making me horny.

"You know Vicente made you like this," she said. "We could probably get it fixed."

"Is it because you don't like it?" I asked, then another unpleasant thought occurred to me. "Will it put you in danger to have a bimbo wife?"

She winced. "Nooo, but you don't really want to be a bimbo wife, do you? Okay, perhaps you do right now because you're horny, but once you come to your senses..."

"You're not telling me something." I interrupted her, because I felt like she was trying to avoid saying something. "Would it put you in danger?"

"Look, no, it wouldn't, but you don't really understand what you're proposing. If the... some of the people I'm going to be dealing with see you like that, then they're going to treat you differently."

"Like how?" I asked.

"Not very respectfully."

"They're going to insult me in front of you? I can see how that would put you in a difficult spot," I said somberly. "That sounds like endangering you, though."

"It wouldn't quite... They would..." She lost her train of thought because I had her meat mashed between my tits and was sucking on the end. I felt a little naughty for interrupting her, but the power I exerted over her sexually was heady stuff.

"So, are you saying you wouldn't feel compelled to defend my honour or whatever when they insult me?" I prompted her afterwards, licking her sauce off my lips with a smile so she knew I wasn't upset with her.

"Well, they wouldn't think they were insulting you. They would just treat you like a valuable possession more than a person."

"A trophy wife," I breathed, getting wet at the thought.

"Well, a little worse than that. A trophy wife is kind of a given. But they likely assume that you were just part of a collection. A measure of my power."

"Oh my god. You are taking over Almacén de Acero!"

"No! Not exactly. I'm taking over its legitimate assets."

"Then why does it matter what these guys think?"

"Because they'll try to take it all from me if they think they can. ADA Holdings Limited may not be a criminal enterprise, but it was controlled by criminals. And it's worth loads of money."

"How much money?"

"Altogether, perhaps a quarter billion dollars. Not that much compared to Almacén de Acero, but ADA Holdings is most of what's left."

"Wow."

She smiled at me a little condescendingly. Which was fair; after working for her brother's multi-billion dollar criminal enterprise, I probably seemed naïve to be impressed with a couple hundred millions.

"As long as I get to be the jewel of your collection, I'd be honored to be your bimbo wife," I told her confidently, "Especially if it would make it safer for both of us."

"I don't think you should make that life decision right now," she said.

"Once I got in your vehicle, I don't see how it could have gone another way," I pointed out.

"Well, I couldn't leave you with no protection," she said, sounding distressed and guilty.

I wanted to explore why she thought I was in need of protection, but didn't want her to make her feel worse. Instead I smiled mischievously. "But Biana, we haven't used protection once!"

Assets

We had to present all our documents to get married, which worried me that it might lead the FBI to us, but Biana pointed out that we were not actually fugitives, just people the FBI would want to interrogate. There was no law against making it inconvenient for the FBI to track you down for an interview.

The wedding venue itself was surprisingly beautiful, and the only thing that was in obvious poor taste was my dress. More specifically, the somewhat sheer nature of the dress when stretched over my curves. Even there, the dress rental shop did their best, providing various nude-colored body con undergarments to keep everything more or less in place and make my giant nipples a little less obtrusive. There was no way for me not to look like a big-bust porn star getting married, and I didn't do or say anything to hint anyone away from this assumption. They didn't seem very scandalized by it, either. It being a Las Vegas wedding chapel, maybe they'd married lots of porn stars.

From there we drove to a sort of honeymoon at another discreet resort in the mountains of Wyoming where we checked in under the auspices of one of her equally-discreet employees. That is to say, it was very like a honeymoon except that we were also hiding out there as we waited for the marriage license to process, and also an expedited new passport for Biana, who was now legally Biana Martina Mink, which hopefully would not show up on any no-fly lists.

Practical though the delay was, we did spend it like any other newly married couple, except probably with a lot more sex than average. If it wasn't for our occasional outings with the twins, and some spa appointments, we would have spent the whole time in our rooms, and a large fraction of that was just solid fucking. It wasn't all me initiating, either. It took me a while to notice that Biana was doing it to avoid certain subjects, but I couldn't seem to make myself resist her. Whenever I saw lust in her eyes, I felt like servicing her was my first priority. Even if I'd milked her cock dry, there was always her vagina to eat out, her nipples to tweak, and her clit to kiss. I told myself that she probably had her reasons and I should just focus on doing my part.

Despite it being very convenient for our plans, I was a bit disappointed in the FBI for either not noticing or not reacting to the fact that that Biana had gotten a new passport in Denver, but she did, just a day before we were scheduled to fly to the British Virgin Islands where ADA Holdings was registered. Before we left, she took me to a major multinational bank where I had an account I hadn't known about and added Biana as co-owner of the account. From there, she took me to a legal office where I was, unbeknownst to me, already a client, and filed paperwork making her co-owner of a number of properties I also hadn't known about, including, I noticed, the Malibu mansion which I'd assumed the government had seized through asset forfeiture.

You may wonder why I went through with this without objection, but you have to understand that I hadn't had any idea that I'd owned any of this stuff to begin with, so it wasn't as if I was giving up anything cherished. Another reason was that I was just so, so blinded by a haze of infatuation and lust. Every time I did something for her, she would fuck me so hard afterwards that I felt amply rewarded.

It wasn't until our second day in the Virgin Islands, after the first day signing ADA Holdings into her keeping, that I started having any sort of second thoughts. Even then, it was because she had the audacity to leave me at the beach cabin almost all day with just a quick morning creampie.

By the time she pulled up in a yacht, it was almost sunset and I was just dying. Sure, I'd managed to live a year without her before she'd reappeared, but after almost three weeks of constant sex, my ability to just go about my day without it was absolutely gone. Seeing her accompanied by a bunch of people was double frustrating, because it meant we couldn't get right to it.

"Hi baby!" she called out to me. "Where are the little ones?"

"Oh, we were teaching them baby swimming," I said, momentarily mollified by the thought of our perfect little daughters, "So they're sleeping soundly."

"Good, good. Allow me to introduce you to some of my business associates," she said, to my horror.

I paid as much attention as I could while they disembarked from the yacht onto the beach cabin's dock, comically small by comparison, and introduced themselves to me. I knew I looked like a vacant idiot staring blankly at them as they talked, but all I could think about was how their arrival betokened an even longer wait until I could get Biana alone.

"Is she okay?" one of them asked Biana curiously.

"Well, I did leave her alone all day," Biana said with facetious sympathy.

"You did!" I said, a little angry.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said, rubbing my back a little, "Can you wait a little longer?"

I just whimpered at her touch.

"She doesn't look okay," one of the others said.

"Yeah, I'm not okay," I agreed.

"Right here?" Biana asked, surprised. "We can do it in private if you wait a bit."

I could tell she had a hard-on by how she was standing, and I thought I could maybe even smell her arousal. What I couldn't do was say no. Some angry part of me thought that she'd kept me waiting on purpose to compel me to become her little sex toy, but this didn't make me more angry, it made me even hornier.

And it gave me permission to do what I did next, which was to drop my bikini bottoms in front of everyone. After all, it wasn't Biana's fault that I got the sex toy body that her brother had meant for her, or that I'd let the transformation go on even longer than her brother had intended. The slap of her powerful thighs into my wobbling buttocks was the sound of putting bad luck to good use.

I was so into it that at first I didn't even notice I was watching them watching Biana taking me right there on the beach in full view of everyone. And when I did, it reminded me that this was part of the plan. I was Biana's bimbo fucktoy, right? This would impress her business associates with her power. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do, and I felt very vindicated. I wasn't being a demanding brat, I was helping prove how strong and in charge Biana was.

Once that occurred to me, I really got into it, making noise and staring right into the eyes of some of the spectators, challenging them almost. Then, when Biana was done, I decided to join them without putting my bottoms back on, so they all had to witness her cum sliding down my legs unimpeded. I felt like they were a bit intimidated by how totally Biana had made me into her slut, and it made me happy.

I thought I might even be Biana's most valuable asset.

Return on Investment

The various law enforcement agencies around the world did eventually figure out who my wife had been, but I at least was accused of no crime and retained my ability to go wherever I wanted. In that way, I was very useful to Biana, who sent me places where she was less certain of her legal welcome. Of course, that meant I did get summoned to a few "interviews" with various investigators, but Biana had afforded me with both bodyguards and a very smart lawyer.

Only one got really tense, where they tried to ascertain whether I was being threatened. I could have let my lawyer Inez block it, but I thought it was better to dispel that one and also convince them that I had little or no useful information. By then I had many advantages in convincing people of my invincible stupidity, and I may have succeeded a little too well.

"There's something wrong with her," the female investigator said. She doubtless thought they were out of earshot, but my ears were very acute, having existed for far less time than even my youthful appearance would suggest.

"You mean she's dumb as a post?" the male investigator responded

"I think one of her implants is giving her brain damage," she said.

"Is that intentional, do you think?"

"Maybe. If so, that might be its own charge. I think we can get a warrant, but let's see if we can get her to go to the hospital. If she refuses, we can go to the judge and maybe get her when she tries to fly home."

And so, they forced me to go to a doctor under a protective order. I could probably have gotten out of that, too, but I thought it would be easier, given that I was convinced that they would not find anything they could use to charge Biana and might just give up on trying to pressure me if I could just convince them that I was a more or less natural ditz. I just instructed Inez to object to any test or procedure that might reveal my previous identity.

"She's about 12 weeks pregnant," the doctor started her post-exam summary.

"Yay!" I cheered, though I had already known.

I got some pro-forma congratulations before she continued, "She's got dramatically elevated levels of a variety of hormones, which makes it a little harder to judge some of the other items conclusively. Of particular note is the clear signs of a lingering auxomastic engineered stem cell implant. It's been there for a long time. There's ghosts of orolabial implants, and possibly another just above her uterus. I would suspect that we would find more near her cuticles if we did a biopsy." Her eyes cut to Inez, who had not allowed any tissue extraction.