From Scientist to Bimbo

At that instant, right after her hot release, Warren Richter walked into the lab.

Oh, fuck. He was such a stud. Walked in and immediately owned the lab, was more like it. Candi slipped her hand over to another vial of serum and downed it, just for him. She giggled happily as it dribbled down her perfect bronzed body, leaving a hot pink trail on her open nakedness.

"Am I interrupting something?"

She giggled happily, sliding her long legs around. She slid a finger around one bare tit.

"No way, hunky. Not like, at all."

She continued to slide her fingers along her amazing breasts and also her bare, exposed clit. He seemed to not have a problem with it, approaching closer and closer. In fact, he seemed almost to be expecting it.

"I could have sworn I heard some screaming and moaning in here just a few seconds ago. You know," he said with a smile, approaching her slowly, his hands in his pockets. "The sexual kind?"

"Oh, that. Right." She nodded, giggling as her tits got bigger and bigger under her wandering hand. She crossed her arms, and let out a hot gasp of sexual pleasure. "I...I...I...was just ummm," she held back a moan as he closed the distance between them.

He was such a fucking hunk. And he looked at her, knowing her, owning her, like he had long ago figured out what was happening with her.

"I was just...just watching this like, tape?" She fingered her cunt harder as he came closer. Her desire was open, evident.

"A tape? You mean a recording?"

"Yeah!" she chirped. "Isn't it like, cool?"

She pointed at the screen, where the gorgeous blonde version of herself was caught in repose, fucking her pussy hotly, just like Candi was now.

"Is that from the room right over there?" he asked.

"Yeah! It was for like, special testing."

He turned to her and put a hand through her hair, feeling it. Holding her tightly. He tugged at it a bit, and she moaned, staring up at him with needy blue eyes. Cooing, she pressed her face into his large, sexy, muscular hand. Her pussy, filled with her fingers, felt even hotter.

"You're just a hot little mess, aren't you girl?"

She purred audibly. "Yes, Sir. I'm anything you say I am."

"Is that you on that screen? You look really hot."

"Yes, Sir. That's me. Like, a worse version of me. I just took more of the serum, so I'll be even hotter soon."

"Is that a fact? You're turning even hotter right now?"

She tilted her chest up at him, letting him watch them jiggle as they expanded to the size of beach balls. Her hair fluttered out an extra three inches when she started thinking about the thick, enormous cock that he surely had hidden inside of those slacks.

"Um...like, maybe? It's super hard to think when you're around."

"Is that right? It decreases your intelligence too. Fascinating."

She giggled. "You use such big words. Is your cock as big as all those words?"

"You want to suck me off, Dr. Dearing?"

"Dr. Dearing? She's like, a total prude. I'm way better than her. I'll suck you, fuck you, whore for you. I don't care. I'm your hot little bimbo fucktart, baby. I want you to rule my pussy. Won't you please?"

He stroked her face. She shivered with delight. She was going to cum, just looking at him, fucking her pussy so hard and hot and just seeing his massiveness. Mmmph.

"If I fuck you, there's no going back," he said. "You'll be mine, from then on. I won't allow anyone else to have a hold of you."

"That's like, super fucking cool," she said. "You're a totally rich, hot guy. I can be your number one girl. It's just..."

She had to stop to let herself cum, right beneath him. Just looking at his muscles, his hot jawline, thinking about how big his cock must have been so enormous. Her mind blinked away for a moment. When she came to, he was snapping her fingers at her.

"Just what, doll? Stay with me?"

She kept fucking her pussy. A little slower now. Calmer.. "Well, like...you would have to have a really big cock to own me like that. Only a guy with a super big cock could do that to me."

Of course, even a guy with a super big cock would have to keep up with her. She doubted he would be able to do so. No one else had so far. But it was lots of fun pretending. And her mind was so simple and silly that pretend was often reality.

He smiled, unzipping his pants and then removing them entirely. His cock wasn't big at all.

"It's super duper big," Candi moaned with appreciation. "Like, oh my god. You have to stuff me full of that thing."

The rod was the thickness of Candi's forearm, layered with thick sexy veins and throbbing hard. She watched, amazed, as it became erect right in front of her, well over a foot long. Her knees knocked together and she whimpered.

She was...she was scared, she realized. Scared that it might be too much cock for her.

That was so, so very cool and hot.

"And you'll be mine?"

He said the words as if they were just some formality. Of course he already knew she was his.

"I am yours," she said, her voice so light and hot. "I'm anything you want."

Using his enormous hands, he picked her up and bent her over the nearby table. His enormous cock pushed inside of her cunt with ease, her body able to take all of him!

Now she knew why every other man hadn't been enough for her. She was waiting for him. He was a perfect fit. Her orgasms started the second he entered her. His thrusts were wild, primal, animalistic. He fucked her like he didn't care at all for her well being. If he wanted to break her in half, with his enormous mass, he could do so easily. She knew his cock could easily shatter the insides of other women. She felt so fucking hot and proud that she could take all of him so well.

She came, and came, and came...and he wasn't stopping. He fucked her harder, harder, harder!

He lifted her up off the ground and drilled her into the corner, where two cabinets met, her legs folded up like a pretzel, every part of her completely owned by his cock.

"Please cum in me!" she cried.

She couldn't help but cry it. It was hardwired into her to cry and beg for a man's cum. It was more than a desire. It was a way of life. She could feel him tensing up inside at hearing her beg.

"Unleash it on me, baby! Give me everything you got, you fucking hulk hunk stud! Please! Give me all of that hot rich dick right now, please!"

His cum unleashed inside of her pussy like a flood of manly release. It was more cum than every other guy than she had fucked in the last week, combined. There must have been gallons of it jetting inside her. He pulled out and began plastering her body with it.

Her orgasms chained one right after the other, her mind skating along on them. Every part of her was bliss.

She turned, expecting him to be totally spent. Instead, he was grinning, and slapped her on her cum-soaked ass.

He was...he was still hard. "Ready for round two?"

Oh yes.

She was more than ready, of course. Made to be so.

Part III: All Bimbo, All The Time

After a solid four hours of fucking that left his new bimbo pet in a state of seeming disrepair, Warren Richter made his way back to his office downtown. Richter felt sexually sated for the first time since he had transformed himself into the man he was today. On top of Candi, he left a note:

Call me soon. We will discuss living arrangements and financial allowance.

He was preparing to be generous with the girl. She had given him a number of thrills, after all.

His office was enormous, inside of the most luxurious, elegant, technologically sophisticated building in the town. He knew it was all these things because he had designed himself. When a man didn't need to sleep, he could do all sorts of things.

Richter had trouble even referring to himself as a man. Over the years, his countless experiments on himself had clearly left him as something much more than just a "man." But he was definitely a Male, and as far as he was concerned, the only REAL Male alive.

He entered his personal elevator, which stopped only at the floor of his office. The entire thirtieth floor of the building was his quarters, with the waiting room taking up a quarter of that. The actual waiting room, really, was the twenty-ninth floor, where he had less-favored clients engage in humiliating contests like potato sack races and blindfolded boxing matches to see who could stand in line to see him on the thirtieth floor.

Most of the thirtieth floor was his enormous office proper, with his one desk and small computer. A person entering had to walk four hundred feet just to get in front of him. He had daydreams about lining the space with living art, women crafted to serve every aesthetic he could desire.

Now, with Candi, it seemed that daydream would soon be a reality.

Gorgeous Theresa was at her expansive desk, tapping away at the computer in front of her. He was grateful she had tipped him off about Dr. Dearing's odd behavior.

"Hello, Theresa. Any calls?"

"Is that a joke?"

He smiled. Of course it was. He got an average of forty calls a minute. Only two every minute made it past the team of call screeners downstairs. Of those two per minute, he handled maybe one every twenty minutes. Being on the top meant lots of people needed your approval all the time.

Theresa was hopelessly in love with him, desperate for him to make any sign of attraction or approval at any given time. Richter liked it this way. Having grown up with women needing his affection at every possible turn, it had become commonplace to use women efficiently. By himself, with a room full of women, Richter could have a successful company and three offshoots created within about six hours.

He walked over to the coffee pot, and, curious, dumped three vials of serum into the full pot. Smiling, he brought a cup over to Theresa.

"Refill?"

She looked completely surprised. Never in the past had he ever given her anything, not even a Christmas card. Usually he just ordered her to buy one for herself, which he ensured was at her own expense. He told her to get the cheap kind, though--he wasn't heartless.

"Y-yes! Certainly!"

"Good. I'll want that report on TJS Realities done by the end of the day, all right?"

"Yes, sir!"

Her voice was full of pride. Warren walked back into his office, his feet thumping along. His seat was specially designed, by him of course, to hold his enormous weight. It was one of the most comfortable places in the world that he knew about. At that desk, he had broken governments. He would probably break a few more today.

Sitting down on his desk, he flipped on the surveillance module to the outside. Normally, he used this to sweat prospective clients and buyers, to see how they reacted to waiting for inordinate periods of time. Now, though, he was using it to watch Theresa's response to the concoction that Dr. Dearing, or Candi, had created.

Nothing so far.

Knowing he had work to be done, he started filing through his to-do list.

First he made a call to a factory in South America, ordering it to lay off half its workers. The manager did not protest, even though the decision would let about half a town go starving. Then he made three more calls to depose one parliament leader in Germany, imprison a minister in China, and assassinate a general in Bratislava. Of course, he did not talk with the people doing these actions--he spoke with directors of directors of directors, each the heads of corporations that seemed larger than any other on the planet.

Richter had his hands in everything. A man did not get as powerful as he did without expecting constant gratification for every accomplishment, and the best gratification was a job done instantly.

Then he called the French ballet teacher that he had been courting and fucking ruthlessly for about a month now. He told her that he wasn't going to see her again unless she dumped that stupid husband of hers along with her two children.

Even then, he'd probably only fuck her for another month or so. He told her that, too. He expected an affirmative answer within the day. Maybe he'd take the time to transform her into something better, once he figured out Candi's serum all the way.

Richter got what he wanted, after all. After making his first billion from developing a series of security software for data caches that had attracted the highest bidders from across the world, he began to invest in medical technology. All his compatriots seemed to be going the hardware route--Richter saw the advantage in that, but he also knew that there was great profit, great personal profit, from being a pioneer in the biomedical field.

His enormous mass of muscle was a gift from years of biomedical research, as was his youth and his capacity for retaining and connecting knowledge. He was well over sixty, and did not appear to be a day over thirty. That was by his design. As far as he knew, he was immortal. He wasn't sure he could even be killed at this point, though certainly anything was possible.

After the work perfecting his body was completed, he had eliminated the team, of course. Now only he knew the secret. If there came a time to make it profitable to others, he would do, but until then, he wanted to be the only tireless, immensely strong, un-aging hunk in the world.

And now, some doctor had come along, seemingly creating a very similar serum all by herself. It was almost too bad she would soon be a bimbo of bottomless stupidity. He could have used her knowledge. But he'd rather have a plaything that didn't wear out after a couple of months of hard use. And Richter, anymore, didn't know how to use anything but hard.

Maybe he'd alter the serum, let her keep a little bit of her mind. It was a fun, hot idea to him, taking and owning someone that was just a dynamo of endless sex. Such a person could have her uses.

He turned back to the screen, watching his assistant.

Interesting. Normally, Theresa only had a cup of coffee every three hours. Now she had taken in the whole pot in less than an thirty minutes.

She had small a-cup breasts, her slim body not able to accommodate much in the way of hips or curves at all. Now, as he watched, her breasts starting growing rapidly, pushing hard against the fabric of her blouse. She either seemed not to notice or not to care.

Her hand moved absently to her tit, squeezing it roughly. She continued to type as if she was doing nothing. But soon, then, she started giggling, both hands squeezing her tits. Then she began to slide one hand up into her skirt, disappearing her fingers into her pussy.

A client came in. Theresa rapidly stood up and got on top of her desk, crossing her legs. She bent over and giggled, holding her growing tits tightly. The client approached, looking a bit unsure, looking around. Amusingly, he looked in every direction but where Richter's hidden camera was.

As soon as he came close enough, Theresa ripped off her blouse and slid down to the ground. She started unbuckling his pants, talking to him the whole time. In between giggles, she seemed to be cooing at how big he was, how badly she needed it.

She bent over on the desk and twisted around, so she was tits up, her head hanging off the desk. She took his cock inside of her mouth, letting him fuck her throat hard. There was no struggle to it, she took the entire length of him easily.

The client fucked Theresa's head against the desk hard. He was relentless, banging her head until finally he came, shooting his load down her throat and then onto his tits, his neck.

He fell to the floor, breathing heavily. Theresa slipped down after him, her heels dropping off her feet. She crawled over his cock, putting her mouth down on him again. He tried to beg her off, but she would not be dissuaded.

She sucked him hard, and after several seconds, he seemed to be very much into it. Surprised at his own virility, as a matter of fact.

Getting up twice in a row was nothing to Richter. His record was twelve, and he had to stop then only because there was money to be made and he couldn't just fuck an entire cheerleading team twice in a row without starting to injure one of them.

The client came again, and Theresa graciously sucked him down. Even so, her hand stayed wrapped around his cock, trying to bring him up again. His hands came against her head, trying to push her away. But these fell down. He fell asleep, unable to move.

Theresa then began to suck him off a third time. But, apparently it was nothing doing. He was exhausted. Disappointed, Theresa knocked on Richter's door.

Smiling, and already semi-hard, Richter got up to go answer the door.

"Yes, dear?"

Now that he got a full look at her, he saw that the transformations were still happening. That meant that she had been changing even as she sucked that client's cock. The client was now delirious on the floor, spouting off half-formed phrases.

"More..." he cried. "No more...more..."

What a weak, pathetic little thing. Hardly worthy of the beauty that Theresa had transformed into. Her hair was shiny and blond, her tits easily double the size they had been not even an hour before. Her lips were puffy, pink and shiny, and her nails had lengthened, turning bright pink also.

He found it fascinating that the concoction seemed to completely disregard all genetic propensity toward hair color, eye color, breast size, weight, height, sexual proclivity, sexual pleasure, or cognitive capacity. It seemed to want only to transform women into complete sexified blond, tanned, big-titted bimbos.

That was certainly something he could get behind. Women were objects to him anyway. They may as well look like what they were.

He wondered how it would stand up to his own tests, mixed with parts of his own formula. Would it be possible for him to make a fuckdoll strong enough to keep up with his stamina and smart enough to keep up with his intellect?

An interesting idea, should he ever desire a true partner. But for the time being, Richter's only interest in women was physical. He took what he wanted from them, like he did everyone else.

Theresa was giggling nervously, waiting for him to speak.

"Go on, then, slut," he said, completely casual. She knew what she was now. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, Sir. I sucked off the hunk in there, but like, I don't think I've had enough. Can you fuck me nice and hard so I can calm down? I had all of this like, coffee..."

Warren gripped her throat hard, enjoying her little squeaks, and dragged her across the enormous length of his office before bending her over on the table.

Oh yes, he could calm her down easy enough.

As he slid inside her hot, ready entrance, he picked up the phone off the desk. He called the secretary from the waiting room on the twenty-ninth floor, Catherine.

"Catherine, could you come up here?"

There was a rush of voices in the background. He supposed that the crowd of people waiting to speak with him--and there were surely over a thousand--had figured out he was on the phone. Good for them.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"No problem. Theresa's been...repositioned." He smiled, looking at secretary as she bucked and moaned beneath him. "I want you to replace her for the time being."

"Yes, Sir!"

She had a touch of awe to her voice. Obviously, she would do anything he said. Worshipful of him. Good. That was how women should be. That was how everyone should be.

And he was going to make it so.

* * * * *

Candice arrived home late in the evening, her thoughts still blurry. It was so hard to think.

You don't need to think. Have another drink! Let me come out and play.

She tried to ignore the impulse. More and more, it was becoming apparent that this whole bimbo thing was getting out of control. She needed to put a lid on it. She had distant memories of being fucked senseless, as Candi, by Richter this afternoon.