The Rewiring of Kimberly Dew

The Rewiring of Kimberly Dew

Note on text: The Renee in this story is not the Renee of Wendy's Pink Lipstick Conversion, although this story does take place in the same Wendyverse. It is entirely irrelevant to either story, but it might be easier to imagine this one taking place at least a few months after the events in Wendy's Pink Lipstick Conversion. And yes, Dr. Essenza and Cynthia did have a cameo in WPLC.

This is a stand-alone story.

For now.

Just an account of some of the goings on at The Diana Group.

*** Boy-crazy Kimberly

Kimberly Dew was boy-crazy. That's all you could really say about her. But she had the looks to help her out. A roundish face with cheeks like two round apples and large friendly brown eyes that peered at the world in sensual delight. One of those slender brunettes with small breasts, B-cups, and slender hips that just matched the entire slender, whimsical, waifish appearance of the girl. Well, woman now, right? After all, eighteen meant adulthood, a freshman at the community college, in Edge City, scraping by to pay for her half of the apartment. Kimberly came from modest means, but the girl had charm. Just so, well, cute. Adorable. And boy-crazy.

In high school, she'd said to Katy one night, she'd slept around, lost her virginity almost as soon as she learned she had it, never regretted the loss. Never even acknowledged it. Just went from boy to boy, dated, if you could call it that, long enough for physical intimacy, and then on to the next. Jocks. Hoods. Any guy with looks and a body. That was important to her. You had to have the right body. And so many guys did.

She didn't drop the habit in college. No, her freshman year so her busy picking up guys, dating guys, casual hook-ups, always on the arm of a different boy, a different guy. Looking for what, exactly? She didn't know, and she didn't really care. Talking to her roommate, Katy, about it, she insisted she wasn't looking for anything. Not happiness. Certainly not a husband, or romance.

"I just like them," she'd said, in the matter-of-fact tone she used when explaining something that should have been readily apparent to even the dumbest person. "They're so, so. Cute. And they're bodies. God. I could ride them all day."

Katy understood that last statement as verity. She'd witnessed it. Well, heard it. Roommates have to put up with things. Or leave. But when she heard it in the morning leaving their apartment, and heard it in the afternoon coming back for a quick change of clothes, and heard it for the final time coming home, the same day, for a bit of relaxation in the evening, then she could attest to the factuality of the declaration. Kimberly Dew could, in fact, ride a man all day. At least Katy assumed it was the same man. With Kimberly you couldn't really tell.

Kimberly had a few girl friends, and Katy counted herself among them. Friends who worried about her. STDs. Bad reputation (too late for that, Katy mused). Maybe even emotional trouble, a little depression to follow up the body's high. Moderation, her friends said. Guys brought trouble, they cautioned. Kimberly Dew didn't listen. And then she started coming home with torn clothes, reeking of alcohol. That couldn't be good, and Katy, busy flipping through a home and garden magazine for some idea of what to get her older sister for her birthday, meant to put a stop to it.

An idea swirled around her head. Grasping it, she held it firmly in her mind's hands, turning it over to look at from all sides. It might work.

"It's for her own good," she told herself. "Besides, what's the worse that could happen?"

She'd heard good things about the place. They worked miracles, it seemed, with behavior modification for people, women, with issues. Self-harm. Substance abuse. Low self-esteem. She didn't know if being boy-crazy counted, but, hey. Could it hurt?

One night, Kimberly was sitting on the couch, fidgeting, nervous, hungry for action, but home, of all things, for the evening. At Katy's insistence. Just this once, Kimmi. Let's stay home and watch a movie. Your choice.

Kimberly hated movies. She wanted to live, not watch.

But she agreed. Mostly to shut Katy up.

Katy lay on her side of the couch, about ready to start the movie. Just then she sat up and held out a piece of paper.

"Hey Kimberly, look what I found on the bulletin board in the student union. Some lab is giving out free money for sleep monitoring."

"Yeah, well?"

"Didn't you say your folks were cutting back on your allowance?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well this place will pay you to let them monitor your sleep. Real money, too."

"How much?"

"One hundred a night."

"How many nights?"

"Two weeks. Fourteen nights. That's fourteen hundred dollars, Kimmi. Just for sleeping."

"Well, I mean, that's rent."

"We can both do it."

"You sure? Won't they hook us up to wires and things like that?"

"They might when we sleep. After all, they gotta have some way of studying our sleep patterns or whatever they're doing."

"But what about during the day! I can't be gone for two weeks!"

"It's the summer. Besides, they'll let us get out doing the day, I'm sure of it."

"You sure of it.?"

"Sure I'm sure. And I hear some of the lab boys are awfully cute."

"Really?"

"That's what I heard."

"Okay," Kimberly said with a mischievous smile, "let's do it!"

*** At the front desk

So Katy called the number, arranged an appointment, and drove Kimberly to the research center, a nice, respectable building in the middle of an office park. Large pink letters above the glass entry proclaimed The Diana Group Research Center. Katy parked the car and led Kimberly through the shiny glass and aluminum doors and up to the front desk, where she gave the receptionist their names.

"Oh, yes," said the receptionist, a blond with short cropped hair, about three inches on top, but shaved almost smooth above her ears and neck. The haircut matched her sharp, angular, delicate features well. Each ear bore three or four studs, some set with blue or red jewels, some just metal. She wore a pink blouse with enough of her top buttons unfastened to show off a small cleavage reinforced by a pink pushup bra. Heavy dark mascara, dark eyeliner, and blue shimmering eyeshadow set off her rich glossy pink lipstick. She winked at Kimberly as she typed her name into the keyboard of the computer in front of her.

"Kimberly Dew," she said. "We already have you registered, but if you could please take these forms and fill them out, we'll be with you as soon as we can. We're so excited you're here!"

"Can you tell me about this place?" Kimberly asked. "What is it? What do they do?"

"What don't they do, you mean," the receptionist answered with an eager, friendly voice. "I actually had a treatment here a while back. They worked wonders on me. Just wonders. I used to." Her voice trailed off, she turned away, as if deep in thought. "And now I don't," she finished, gathering her enthusiam, and smiling brightly, first at Katy, then at Kimberly. "That really is just the loveliest necklace, honey. You make it look super."

Kimberly stiffened. She hated it when girls acted like that. That kind of flirting. What the hell was that wink about anyway? Save it for the boys, girl. So she didn't smile back. Just kind of grabbed the clipboard with the forms, took a pen from a holder on the counter, and turned to Katy.

"What about you? Where's your form?"

The receptionist looked at the computer.

"You're our only appointment for today, Miss Dew."

Katy leaned over the counter.

"Are you sure about that? I called for the two of us. What do you have for a Katy Dawson?"

The receptionist punched the name in.

"Sorry. Just Miss Dew here." The receptionist turned to Kimberly. "If you would just go through that door to your right, I'll let in. There's a waiting room inside where you can finish filling out those forms."

"But what about you, Katy? I don't want to do this by myself."

"I'll be a minute behind you, Kimmi. Just go through that door, and I'll get everything sorted out with Miss," she glanced at the receptionist questioningly.

"Piper. Britney Piper."

"With Miss Piper. Don't worry, I'll be with you in a matter of minutes."

Kimberly walked up to the heavy wooden door slowly, doubtfully. Britney buzzed, and Kimberly turned the knob, pushed the door, and walked into the waiting room.

Katy pulled a flash drive from her purse as Kimberly walked through the heavy door. She handed the drive to Miss Piper, who smiled and plugged it into her computer. Opening the folder, she clicked on one photograph after another.

"Will those work?" Katy asked, worried. They hadn't been easy to take, considering her sister's suspicious nature and extreme timidity. But Katy was patient, and her friend needed help. Badly.

"These will work beautifully," Britney replied. "You've got real talent, you know." She smiled and winked at Katy, running the tip of her tongue over her bright pink lips. She held a stray thumb and finger at another button of her already expressive decollatage.

But Katy no more played that game than Kimberly. She smiled curtly and nodded.

"Call me in two weeks?"

"You bet, sugar."

*** In the waiting room

As she sat in the chair, filling out the first page of the short stack of papers needing her signature and initials, Kimberly admitted that at least the room smelled nice. Along with the soft music in the background, it added to a sense of, well, relief. Of relaxation. No. Not relaxation. Almost the opposite, in a way. She felt her senses heighten, a growing sexual tension. But in a relaxed sort of way. A strange feeling, if you thought about it. But something told Kimmi not to think about it. After all, she had those papers to fill out.

Some of the questions were a little nosy, to be honest. A little too, um, fixated on her sexual activities. And her sexual preferences. Well, I guess they'd have to know everything about me, she thought. I mean. I guess. But what the hell that had to do with sleep was beyond her.

Questions about how often she had sex, how many partners, whether she considered herself strictly heteorsexual, whether she had to have sex before sleeping, were her dreams sexual in nature, how often did she masturbate, and on and on and on.

After a while she quit resenting the intrusive nature of the questioning. After all. She actually found herself enjoying responding to the personal inquiries by answering as intimately as she knew how, often add details well beyond the space on answer fields to contain.

Straight, straight, straight.

Boys, men, six inches is fine, five inches is fine, small is fine, large is better, I like a big fat cock.

Yes, I swallow. Doesn't every girl?

Every night.

Usually with a different boy. Is that so bad?

Yes, I guess you could say I'm a slut.

Whore?

Maybe. I mean, who doesn't need money?

And on and on and on.

She traced her inner thighs with her long fingernail, painted a deep red. She'd like to fuck right now, to be honest. I guess I'll have to give that up, she thought. At least for the next two weeks. I'll have to score some dick during the day. Shouldn't be that hard. She continued running the tips of her fingernails in back and forth movements across the bare skin of the inside of her thigh.

Katy's statement about the cute boys in the lab had convinced her to wear a short plaid skirt, red, black, and white, showing plenty of skin. Her fingers of her left hand fidgeted with the buttons of her blouse, a lovely pale green shirt with frilly cuffs and just the tiniest black polka dots. The receptionist at the desk, that one with the short hair, leapt into her mind, how she had exposed her bra, a push-up to enhance her modest cleavage. Taking a cue from her, she undid another button. Best to be prepared, she thought. For when she'd finally get to those boys.

Underneath the skirt she wore skimpy black panties, thongs naturally, the gusset of which dug between her lips, tight on her clitoral hood. She felt herself growing damp and warm. Those questions had really turned her on, she thought.

Pulling her right hand away from her thigh, she squirmed in her seat, crossed her legs and continued filling out the paperwork attached to a metal clipboard. She yawned and looked around. No boys so far, but from time to time someone came entered the room from the door opposite the one she'd come in through. They must have been workers, assistants here, but they hardly dressed appropriately, she thought. Young women, girls almost, not much older than eighteen by the look of them, wearing only tight pink scrub shirts and incredibly tight pink booty shorts showing off round, perky butts. They all wore pink sneakers. Cute definitely, but not appropriate to a research setting. Heck, even she could see that.

Certainly far more casual footware than the black heels she'd chosen to wear.

Well, she sighed. She'd have some competition with those cute lab boys from what she could tell by inspecting the two or three assistants stepping into the waiting room to call out a name or deliver some kind of drink to one of the people seated in their chairs. All of them women, too. Which Kimberly thought a little odd. She looked them over, a half a dozen or so women of all ages, sitting in the waiting room, ready to be called for whatever it was they'd signed up for.

She looked at one girl, about Kimberly's age, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and wearing dark, heavy make-up. Kimberly noticed ornate tattoos running up and down both arms. The girl wore her black hair spiked in a mohawk.

Pierced eyebrows.

Pierced nose.

Pierced lips.

The girl looked up, catching Kimberly's stare.

The girl flipped her the bird, and Kimberly looked away, angry and embarrassed.

"I wonder if they're all here for that sleep business," Kimberly wondered.

Just then one of the young assistants, breasts free and tight against her pink scrub top, erect nipples poking through the fabric, nudged Kimberly's shoulder with gentle sway of her hips.

"Hey, there, sweetie," the young woman said, in a cheerful, almost giggling voice. "Have your tried our Pink Water? It's so yummy."

Kimberly looked up, her face practically smushed against the assistant's boobs. She pulled her head back a little and saw the a small, clear plastic bottle filled with a sparkling liquid, a transparent pale pink in color. A simple label on the bottle declared TDG in bold pink letters on a blue bubbly background.

"I'll just set it down on the table here," the girl said, stooping to place it on a low table beside the molded plastic chair Kimberly was sitting in. Kimberly couldn't help but stare down the girl's V-neck, confirming the assistant's lack of brasiere. She sighed, jealous of the size of assistant's breasts that the powers that be had endowed her with. Kimberly's own boobs weren't actually small, thank you, and if more than a handful were too much, then Kimberly could congratulate herself on having too much. Just.

But the knockers on that girl were just, wow. At least twice as big as hers. She caught herself raising her head to peak at the girl's nipples. The assistant held herself that position, lingering to move a short stack of magazines which weren't actually in the way, lowering her body even further, allowing Kimberly an incidental and fuller look at the total exposure of the assistant's tits hanging like ripe fruit from the main branch of her body.

"There," she said, standing up, smiling and winking at Kimberly. "You'll see. You'll just love it." The girl lightly touched Kimberly's shoulder.

"Your hair," she continued. "I love the way you've pulled it back. It's so. Cute. Super adorable."

Then the girl turned and trotted out of the waiting room. Was it Kimberly's imagination, or did that girl swing her ass in those tight pink shorts with more emphasis, knowing that Kimberly's eyes followed? Why were her eyes follwing? Well, for one thing, the lower half of her cheeks hung below the lined hem of her booty shorts, each cheek forming half of the sweet, wide and round heart shape of her pert derriere.

Really, if that's the way they dressed, she'd have to step up. She'd have to take off her skirt and run around in her thong in front of those lab boys.

She turned her attention to the bottle of Pink Water beside her on the table. She lifted it, read the sparse label doubtfully, unscrewed the pink cap, smelled the water suspicious, and brought the container to her lips, tilting the bottle to take a small and hesitant taste.

Not bad. Strawberry and bubblegum, a hint of vanilla, the sharp tingle of carbonation.

But she wasn't thirsty so she put the bottle down to finish the rest of her paperwork, mostly signatures acknowledging consent to stay, waiving rights of legal repurcussions, etc. Just the usual boring small print she'd never read before and wouldn't start now. Three more pages of the stuff. She lifted the small bottle with her left hand and continued scrawling her name and initials, unconsciously taking a long, slow, deep drink of the strawberry-flavored pink fizzy water.

She tilted the bottle straight up for a last sip when she realized she'd already emptied it. Shrugging, she turned the last page of her forms. Finally, she sighed. Well, that's that.

Just then the assistant stepped into her space. Kimberly's gaze ran up the ankles of the cute assistant poking above the precious pink sneakers they wore here, lingering slowly over her calves and shapely knee, up her thighs, over the sweep of her hips, over the swell of her boobs, and touched the dainty smile of her lips set in pink glossy lipstick.

God. She'd have to do more than run around in her underwear to get those guy's attention, Kimberly thought. These assistants were so cute. Hot, even, from those boys' perspective.

The assistant held out her hand, and Kimberly read her name tag for the first time.

Cynthia.

That drink feels good, she realized. Her insides began to glow, to feel warm, she felt a sudden feeling of happiness wash over her, a simple gladness with the way things are. She was glad she'd come, she realized. Glad Katy had talked her into this.

I wonder when she's going to get here, she suddenly wondered.

"Ready?" Cynthia honey pitched voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hm?" Kimberly's eyes rose to meet Cynthia's.

I mean, she did have pretty eyes, and her short blond hair suited her, even if it had been dyed platinum, topping her round, wide face. And did everybody here wear the same makeup, that shimmering blue eyeshadow and glossy pink lipstick? I mean, it looks good. But.

"It's time to meet Dr. Essenza. She's so excited to meet you. Here, take my hand."

And without quite realizing why she did so, or even wondering why she did, Kimberly placed her left hand inside Cynthia's right hand and stood up, letting the assitant guide her across the waiting room and out the opposite door. Soon she found herself walking down a wide corridor, her heels tapping the tiled floor to the soft patter of Cynthia rubberized sneaker soles. They walked down the hallway with white walls, and Cynthia strode alongside her, holding her hand with her left and nudging her from behind with her right hand above Kimberly's hip, below the waist band of her skirt, the palm of her hand lightly touching the rising slope of Kimberly's butt.

Kimberly felt it, thought it weird and uncomfortable, wanted to protest or at least wriggle free, but just submitted, happy to be led and pushed at the same time.

After all, she was here to.

Well, what, exactly?

It didn't matter. She was just here, and that's what counted.

Kimberly smiled at that thought.

Cynthia kept up a steady stream of whispered conversation with Kimberly, her cheek practically touching Kimberly's cheek, as she spoke softly into Kimberly's ear. Dazed, thoughts wandering, she tried to listen as best she could, but nothing Cynthia said made sense, just random declarations of girl stuff. Cute things, cute clothes, underwear, pink was her favorite color. Nighties, she just loved nighties. Girls should dress in nighties all the time. And on it went. At last Cynthia led her to a closed office door. She tapped and cracked the door ajar.