The Rewiring of Kimberly Dew

Dr. Essenza paused, collecting her thoughts.

"It's like this, see. What we're going to do is make you naturally far more turned on by women than what you are currently by men. Now isn't that something?"

Then Essenza stood over Kimberly's left side, loosened the cuff holding her left arm, turned her wrist, held it down firmly against the pink enamel armrest, and poked her with the needle of the syringe, squeezing the pink liquid into her victim's veins.

She replaced the syringe and picked up the second syringe.

"This is just a basic b-flat aphrodisiac. We need to get you as horny as hell."

The doctor shot the pink aphrodisiac into Kimberly's arm.

Then Dr. Essenza pushed play again, and Kimberly eyes were flooded with moving images of naked men, mostly young, mostly well-built, mostly well-endowed. But older men mixed in with the images, smaller penises, flaccid dicks, hairy chests, sloped shoulders and gray, balding heads. Soon she lost track of how long she sat there, watching naked men in increasingly sexual positions and stances parade before her eyes.

It wasn't long before she felt the effects of that pink dose.

Adding to the medication, if you could call it that, were the clamps around her nipples and her labia, sending a continuous, low charge to her sensitive organs. She could feel her pussy get warmer, more engorged, growing red, excited and needy. Her nipples stood out from her modest breasts like steel rivets, hard and desperate to be rubbed, to be used, to be nibbled, licked, and bitten.

Her tongue ran over the round tip of the fake cock in her mouth. She yearned for a real one, yearned for the feeling and warmth of cum splattering against the roof of her mouth and down her throat. Kimberly groaned and whined. Every image of every man she saw inflamed her brain, igniting a fire in the nucleus accumbens, the amygdala, washing it in dopamine. The pink dose heightened her brain's response, her nerves screamed, and her pussy grew wetter, hotter, raging.

By the time the video ended, she was urging her pelvis at an invisible partner, presumably one of the cocks she had seen in the videos.

She felt just on the verge of an orgasm, but something always held her back, kept her from it, the nodes clamped to her pussy teased her, mocked her, seemed to gauge the exact moment of her coming orgasm, and numbed her with something, she couldn't quite define it. Something cold. A charge of cold electricity. It didn't make any sense, but it kept her from coming repeatedly.

The video over, Dr. Essenza stopped it, ejected the DVD, and bent down to replace it inside the cabinet, taking her time in full view of Kimberly, who couldn't help but gaze at the woman's strong and powerful thighs and the bottom swell of her wide and oppulent ass as the woman's pink lab coat rode up along with her lovely dark skirt, an ass swaying side to side as the woman looked for and eventually found the perfect spot for her jewel case.

Kimberly's vagina dripped, and drool spilled from both sides of her gagged mouth, and still Dr. Essenza remained bent over, her skirt and lab coat inching up slowly, unrelentingly, Kimberly's eyes glued to the rising hem line, her fevered brain anticipating more skin, more. God, is this how they did it, she wondered. Just got you so worked up you'd fuck anything and anyone? I'm so fucking horny. I can smell me. The whole room stinks of me, my need, my pussy. Her pelvis continued to thrust forward, inviting an absent cock, anyone, anything, to enter her. Kimberly's eyes lingered on Essenza's ass, the back of her thighs. The young woman groaned against her gag. Please, Dr. Essenza, she thought. Please. I need it. I need it so bad.

Finally Dr. Essenza did stand up. She turned around, strode over to Kimberly's chair, and lifted a round, bucket-like device, large enough to go over a human head, off the metal table, the aluminum tabouret.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it? You don't have to answer, I could tell just by looking at your pussy. You're so wet, dear, aren't you? You're so very turned on, aren't you, by all those men, all those gorgeous, naked men? Well, some of them weren't so gorgeous, but they were all naked, weren't they dear? You can just nod, I'll understand. So naked. And you just go so turned on, didn't you? So worked up and horny, and now you have to cum, don't you? You're pussy's so wet. Is it hot? If I touch you there, will it burn me?"

Kimberly nodded and whined, urging her pelvis forward, up and down, in urgent thrusts.

"Not yet, dear. You're not a lesbian yet. Good girls don't let women fuck them if they're not lesbians. Only lesbians do that."

Essenza tilted Kimberly's head forward, and carefully placed the bucket-like helmet over the girl's head, avoiding damaging the pads or getting hung up on the wires. She left the cock gag in Kimberly's mouth.

"Have you been sucking on that cock, honey? Good. Lots of dykes like to fuck girls with strap-ons, and you'll need to get used to sucking on dildos. Although I suppose you'ved had plenty of practice there."

Inside her helmet, Kimberly furled her brows. Well, yes and no. Plenty of practice with real cocks, yeah sure. But not with dildos. To tell the truth, she'd never used one. She never had to. Getting a boy came naturally to her, she never had a problem bringing a boy home or going to his house, even as a teenager. Well, yeah sure, she had a vibrator. But not a fake cock. That just seemed weird to her.

The doctor made adjustments to the helmet, to a keypad and a small cluster of tiny knobs on one side of the device. She zipped tight a flexible plastic band at the bottom of the helmet to seal Kimberly head and neck from her shoulders. Then she pulled down a flexible tube hanging just above the little station, a flexible tube with cone attached to the end. She hooked the cone over a protruberance at the back of the helmet. An air compressor whirred and Dr. Essenza checked the helmets gauges.

Then she dragged out a heavyish cable from the roller attached to the side of the aluminum tabouret. Cables ran from the tabouret along the floor behind the chair and up the legs of another rolling table station, a larger station, on the other side of Kimberly's pink chair. She connected one end of the heavy cable to the top of the device, and one of three monitors standing on the larger metal table came to life. Kimberly Dew's gagged face filled one monitor, another monitor showed what looked like a EKG. The third monitor showed a blank screen.

"Kimmi, can you hear me?"

The scientist heard a muffled response coming from within the confines of the helmet.

"Good. Now this part is kind of like the first part, but much more intense. It won't be so boring for you as watching that video was. I've got your calibrations ready. Just what I expected of course, you're so hot for men, I'd didn't expect anything less. What we're going to do here is fine tune your experience, so we can really drill down into the kind of man you like, the ones that really turn you on, they way they look, the way they smell, the way the feel and touch. It'll be just like real life. Almost."

She switched a large toggle on the chair, and the bucket began to hum and whirr. The third monitor lit up, filled with vague, shadowy images.

Kimberly closed her eyes, expecting to be able to shut out whatever it was that they were going to do to her, but her mind burst into images, scents, textures. All five of her senses sprang to life, absolutely overwhelmed by an orgy of male bodies, all of them clinging after her. Having spent the previous hour or hours, enduring unimaginable sexual tension, Kimberly, who seemed to be standing in the middle of a cushioned room, faltered and fell to her knees, then backward to her back, spreading her legs open to the male forms. She'd fuck them of course, she'd fuck them all.

And she did. For hours and hours, Kimberly endured every conceivable sexual assault, every conceivable sexual act, repeated over and over, again and again, until her body, covered in semen, shook like a frail leaf on a tree in November, yearning for a climax that never came, and still the sensations lasted, non-stop, without end. Time ceased to have meaning, Kimberly quit moaning, her body sagged limp in her chair, the area below her pelvis a wet pool of secretion, a secretion that kept pouring. Kimberly, no longer conscious, neither moved nor uttered a sound.

Dr. Essenza watched the monitor, the third monitor showing the events taking place in Kimberly's brain. Man after man had climbed onto her body, and man after man had climbed off her body. Essenza had watched how Kimberly clung to the first dozen or so, wrapping them in her arms and legs, holding them tight against her. She had watched how Kimberly started to struggle, started to try to push the men off, how she had given up, how she had wept, how she had screamed out for release, for a release. How she slumped and went still. How the last man had pumped his seed and left.

Essenza checked the monitor showing her brain functions.

She had measured every type of man that Kimberly preferred, liked, desired. She had measured the exact moment Kimberly had had enough, the exact moment of her loss of consciousness. Dr. Essenza took notes of how her brain reacted to sex while unconscious, how her body reacted until it reacted no more. She measured the unseen reactions deep within Kimberly's mind. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was a start.

A good start.

Well, she thought. That should about do it for today. She turned off the bucket helmet and called Cynthia. Then she began to remove the helmet, unzipping the seal, unhooking the cable, unhooking the air tube, and gently lifting the device off the prone figure's head. Cynthia opened the door, saw Kimberly, stifled a cry and quickly swept to the prone girl.

"Is she? Is she?" Tears glittered in the assistant's eyes.

"Of course not, darling. She's perfectly fine. She just needs to wake up. Go ahead and put this on her. And careful with her pussy. She's so charged up, she'll cum if you so much as breathe on it. And I don't want her coming. Not now. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe the day after. If she's lucky and good, maybe the day after."

Dr. Essenza held up another syringe.

"I'll just give her this to keep her down. We'll visit with her again tonight."

*** Day One: Kimberly wakes up

Kimberly woke up in a strange bed in a strange room. Groggily she lifted herself up from her big, fluffy, soft pillows. She swung her feet with unexpected effort over the edge of the bed. Her legs seemed to be congealed together at the hips. Her head ached, and she clutched her forehead with her right hand, running her hand from her forehead to the top of her bare, bald skull.

Her hair was gone.

Memories of where she was and what had happened to her flooded her brain. She'd been kidnapped. Or close enough. Subjected to god only knew what kind of drugs. She couldn't recall the experiment exactly, not after the video that crazy doctor showed her, all those naked men. But she remembered how horny it made her. She remember a bucket going over her head, but the images and sensations that came after, those only returned faintly, vaguely, the merest echo of a bad memory.

God she was so horny now, she couldn't take it.

She reached down to soothe her burning pussy, but her hand touched a cold plastic object. Looking down she saw a hard covering around her hips and groin, a kind of weird underwear made of thick plastic. She tried to move her groin inside the device, but the device had been fashioned to the restrict movement of limb, groin, and ass, keeping her nether regions from touching anything other than air inside. She couldn't even move her legs independently.

Then she noticed what she'd been dressed in.

A thin, white, so diaphanous as to be transparent, a sheer, so sheer, babydoll.

Under which her hard nipples stuck out like round tacks.

She could clearly see the outlines of her breasts.

She saw a wheelchair at the foot of her bed. So that's how they expected her to get around. Great. She couldn't even play with herself. And god, she really needed to play with herself.

She wanted to panic, but that odd sense of relaxing peace returned, washing over her anxiety until she felt ready to face whatever fate this crazy place threw at her.

She looked the room over.

Her mouth dropped in disbelief.

The walls of the room were covered with almost every inch with framed posters under glass, posters of men, well-built, muscular men, in a variety of poses, all nude, cocks out, ready, hard, or almost hard, just waiting for Kimberly. She looked at the ceiling. Yep.

An almost life-sized figure of a handsome man, completely nude and holding onto his shaft, stared down at her. She would go to sleeping looking into his eyes, staring at the cock in his hand.

At least they gave her a pretty place to stay. Her single bed consisted of a wooden frame with a simple, tasteful head and foot, gently curved in a graceful arch. Here and there the paint, pink of course, wore thin, exposing the wood grain below. Shabby chic. A little out of fashion, but Kimmi, Kimberly, didn't mind. Not at all. Kind of cute, really.

They did the whole room up in pinks and whites, with some soft yellows, pale blues, and subdued oranges mixed in to give life to the pinks and whites.

And as for the frilly pink and white bed covers with the fluffy pillows. Well, if it helped her sleep. Across the room, standing against the wall opposite her bed, stood a lovely white vanity dresser. On the wall on the far side of the room, opposite the door, hung a large flat screen television, turned off. Kimmi looked for a remote but didn't see one.

And just in front of the television stood a short loveseat, in pink fabric with little red hearts dotting the material like the spots of a leopard's hide.

A nightstand stood at the head of her bed, on top of which stood a bottle of that Pink Water, and a thick magazine. Thirsty, Kimberly relented her initial hesitation at drinking the stuff. She knew it did things to her. But gosh, was she thirsty!

Carefully shifting her body towards the head of the bed, she reached for the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and swallow a gulp of the Pink Water, smiling at the strawberry bubblegum flavor.

Ah, see. That wasn't so bad was it, Kimmi? She thought to herself.

Kimberly.

She picked up the thick magazine. Great, she thought. More pornography. More naked men. Cocks hard and spurting. Her groin fluttered, she ached to touch herself. She stroked the palm of her left hand over the hard, plastic groin of the chastity device, groaning and cursing. Why wouldn't they let her cum?

Just then the door opened, and Cynthia stepped through smiling, beaming. She saw Kimberly staring at the magazine and trying to play with herself through the thick plastic shield. Cynthia giggled.

"Boys, boys, boys," she chirped. "You just can't stop thinking about them, can you girl? I bet you really want to cum now, don't you? I bet you want to cum so bad."

Kimberly hurriedly put the magazine down as Cynthia wheeled the chair around to face her patient. Locking the wheels she held out her hands to Kimberly.

Kimberly had covered her breasts with one arm at the assistant's entry into her room.

"Let me help you sweetie. It's kind of super hard to move around in that thing. I just hated it. Just hated it. But you'll see. It's for your own good. I promise."

"Where are we going?" Kimberly asked as she sat down, casting a grateful looking at the assistant in the tight pink scrubs, short platinum hair, and just the most striking makeup Kimberly had ever seen. That eyeshadow. How it shimmered!

And her lips. So pink.

"Dinner, honey. I bet you're getting hungry. You'll love it. You can meet all the girls here. But first I need to take you to the restroom. I bet you just have to go and go and go."

"In this?" Kimberly tugged on her babydoll.

"Oh honey, you look so cute in that."

Cynthia bent down to fit Kimberly's bare feet with fluffy pink slippers.

"Our floors can get so cold."

Then she winked at Kimberly.

"C'mon, you."

Why not? Why the hell not? Kimberly thought, relaxing in the tingling warmth of the Pink Water.

Cynthia rolled her out of the room, the seat of the wheel chair cold and intrusive against the bare skin of her butt.

*** Day One: In the dining hall

The dining room whirled and resounded with life, laughter, and light-hearted conversation. Looking around her as Cynthia wheeled her into the dining room, Kimberly saw more assistants in pink outfits than patients, easily differentiated not just by their scanty uniforms, but by their happy, talkative, and very affectionate behavior. Assistants walked by arms around each other's waists or hand in hand, head leaning on shoulder, stopping briefly to nuzzle one another's neck, or to briefly lay a kiss below the other's ear.

Hands drifted to legs, to bellies, to the chins and flushed cheeks of faces.

The patients themselves, fewer in number, sat alone, each at a single round table, each table more than six feet away from the other.

Only one patient occupied any one round table. Why?

Three or four assistants sat around that patient, soothing her, trying to engage her in conversation, offering her drinks, or helping her eat, or brushing the hair from her face. It seemed unusually solicitous, caring, and protective.

Affectionate even.

Kimberly counted six patients, and she recognized them all as the same women with whom she had sat in the waiting room, so long ago it seemed. To her surprise and annoyance, no other women wore the same blatantly exposing outfit as she did. No other patient openly wore such sheer lingerie.

But none of them could be described as wearing anything suitable for public wear.

And none of them could be described as fully awake, alert. All of them seemed to have been drugged. They nodded their heads in a stupor. They reached for items on the table with slow, clumsy, and heavy gestures, often knocking glasses down, or silverware off the tops of tables.

The assistants didn't seemed to mind at all.

Cynthia rolled Kimberly to a table already occupied by two other assistants, one large, full figured, her large and ponderous ass hung from below the hemmed legs of her pink shorts in feminine majesty, and her full breasts stretch the cotton fabric of her pink scrub top. She wore her long light brown hair in a long tail at the back of her head, tied by a pink Scrunchie at the occipital lobe. She moved with quick, graceful motions. She clasped her hands together in a genuine joy at seeing Kimberly's approach.

"Oh my," she cried out. "Cynthia didn't lie about you. How are you, dear? Your Cynthia is so lucky to help you in your transformation. I mean, I'll help of course, all the girls here will. At this table and the rest. But Cynthia has main duties, and I'm so jealous now. You're just about the daintiest thing I've seen in a long time, and your head! Not a bump on it. Are you going to grow your hair back, honey, do you think? If not, don't worry. You look absolutely stunning."

The woman, several years older than Cynthia by Kimberly's estimation, floated her remarkably soft hands over and over the surface of Kimberly's baldness. Kimberly closed her eyes, basking in the attention.

This is weird, she thought. I should hate this. I should be jumping from my chair and running as fast as I can. But I'm not. I'm just sitting here letting this big woman pet me like a cat.

Then she felt a warm, wet kiss on the top of her head. Then another cheek, just behind her eye.

She felt lips brush against her ear.

"I'm going to fuck you until you pass out from cumming, girl. I really will. I'm going to make you into the biggest slut of a dyke, you sweet little thing, you'll see. You're going to love my pussy so much."