Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

Redesigning Jane

by Julien Sorel

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© Copyright 2009 - Julien Sorel - Used by permission

Storycodes: Machine/f; MM/f; bodymod; bimbo; stored; club; sex; hum; nc; X

Summary: Jane mistakenly walks into Acme Body Enhancement instead of her beauty salon.
(Part of a series of cartoon-themed stories written for a real-life couple. - J.)

Jane's friends had recommended to her a new beauty parlor, the Acme Hair Salon. So Kevin dropped her off one day for an 11 a.m. hair appointment. Looking around the street as Kevin sped away, Jane couldn't find the salon's address or its signage. Then she spotted a small Acme sign at the end of the block. It seemed odd to her that the sign was so far away from where the store was supposed to be, and even odder when she had to go down a dirty alley to find the entrance.

Inside, a sullen blonde receptionist looked at her from behind a window. "I have an 11 o'clock appointment," said Jane. The blonde paged through her book, then said, "This way," snapping her gum. Jane followed the insolent girl through a corridor with exposed pipes. These people really need to put a better front on their business, thought Jane.

The blonde showed Jane into a large, white room that looked like a laboratory, then left without a word. A young woman asssistant sat behind a desk, working on spreadsheets; a middle-aged woman in a lab coat approached Jane.

"You're the 11 o'clock?" said the woman? "Okay, go into that changing room, put all your clothes in a locker, and put this on." She handed the confused Jane a hospital gown. Jane had heard about the massage that her friends had gotten at the salon - maybe that was the point of the gown.

Like all hospital gowns, this one was open in the back. Jane did her best to tie it tightly at the waist, but when she crept back into the wide-open laboratory, wearing only her flip-flops and the gown, her whole ass was exposed.

"Up on this table," said the woman. The concrete floor was freezing as Jane stepped out of her flip-flops and climbed up. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the stick of a needle in her arm.

"Ow! Wait! What are you doing?" she cried.

"Believe me, dear, you do *not* want to go through this process without sedation," said the woman.

"What process? Ohhh...." The room was suddenly spinning. Jane started to keel over slowly, but the woman caught her by the arm and held her up.

"That was fast," said the woman. "Now, come with me." The woman led Jane, who was very unsteady on her feet, to a padded hydraulic chair. Next to it was something that looked like a gas pump.

"Wait...where...." said Jane incoherently. The woman strapped her into the chair with what looked like the straps on a child's car seat. The bottom strap went right up into Jane's bare private parts. "Ooooh," she said involuntarily.

"Now let's get you plumped up, and then we'll wheel you over to the vacuum press," said the woman, pressing a lever that raised Jane's chair up to the level of the pump.

"I want... a haircut... Mmmpph!!" A nozzle from the pump was shoved into Jane's mouth. With the flip of a switch, the nozzle expanded behind Jane's teeth so that it wouldn't come out.

"Mmmm! Mmmm!" Jane seemed worried about something.

"Don't fret, the worst is over," said the woman. "The tube is already down your throat." She cranked a crank on the pump and pulled a big lever, which set off a bell.

"UUUUUHHH...." Jane suddenly looked as if she were sick to her stomach. She felt as if she'd eaten the biggest meal of her life in a matter of seconds. Her bare feet fluttered helplessly in mid-air.

"Just five minutes and it'll be all over," said the woman. "Let me get your hair out of the way." She gathered Jane's brown, shoulder-length hair in a little pink cap and tied its laces under Jane's chin.

The phone rang, and the assistant picked up. "Acme Body Enhancement," she said.

"Mmmmm!!" said Jane, her eyes opening wide. She struggled against the straps for a moment before her head keeled over in exhaustion.

"And this is in case you drool," said the woman, tying a big pink bib about Jane's neck.

Jane looked down at herself with alarm. She was starting to look...bigger. Everywhere. Her boobs, her arms, her thighs. She whimpered like a baby and made a weak gesture to pull at the nozzle in her mouth, but the sedation was too strong, and her arm collapsed weakly into her lap.

"Don't worry," said the woman. "I know it feels like you're filling up with cement. But it's all going to turn into natural body fat. And in all the right places."

Jane was making little sobbing sounds behind the nozzle. She felt too heavy to move anything. Her head lolled to one side, and she couldn't even pick it up again.

A tall, good-looking guy who hadn't shaved in a few days entered the lab. He could have passed for a frat boy except for his white technician's coat. Jane, starting to look rather roly-poly, moaned into the still-pumping nozzle. How could they let men into this room? But no one seemed to think it was strange.

"Got another little playmate for us, eh?" said the guy. He walked right up to Jane and lifted the hem of her gown to get a better look between her legs, as if she were a porn magazine. Jane mmmphed weakly, but couldn't even shift her weight in her chair, and had to endure the intimate examination.

"This one isn't shaved clean," said the guy. "In all the time I've worked here, I've never seen one of these bimbos that didn't shave it all off."

"It's none of my business," said the woman. "And you might want to be careful with this one, George. Look where she's being delivered."

The woman handed George Jane's paperwork. "The Kit Kat Klub, eh?" said George. Jane started making some low noises and drooling onto her bib, but no one paid attention.

"So mind your P's and Q's," said the woman.

"Don't we always?" said George.

"Everyone knows what you and your friends do with these poor sedated girls, Mr. Smarty Pants," she said.

"We haven't damaged any of the merchandise yet," said George with a smile, walking away.

"Don't wander too far," said the woman. "She'll be ready in a few minutes."

"She's going to be a job for two," said George, heading for the phone.

The woman picked up Jane's chart. "What's your name - Sindi? With an S?" she read. Jane groaned; she felt as if she were going to explode. "Sindi, I really don't understand why perfectly lovely girls like you do this. What if you decide some day that you want to leave the sex trade and have a normal life? How can you do that after you undergo this treatment?" Jane tried in vain to shake her head. "Well, I guess you're old enough to make your own decisions. But why a cute girl like you with pretty C-cup breasts should want to become a..." She looked at the chart again: "...a double F is beyond me." Tears were trickling down Jane's face.

The pump's bell rang, and the stream of heavy goop moving down Jane's esophagus slowed, them stopped. Jane moaned but could barely lift a finger or wiggle a toe. She looked as if she'd gone on a year-long eating spree, and the density of the liquid in her system made her twice as heavy as she looked.

The woman removed the pump hose from Jane's face but left the nozzle in her mouth, screwing a heavy cap over its opening. "The formula metabolizes very quickly, as you can see. But this should prevent any accidents, just in case." Jane watched unhappily as her mouth was sealed off. Then the woman removed Jane's cap and bib, unstrapped her from the seat, and pulled off the now-useless hospital gown, which had come undone as Jane expanded, and had been hanging forlornly off of her elbows.

George entered with his co-worker Al, who looked as if he could have been George's college drinking buddy. "Flip you for the legs," said Al. Al won the coin toss and grabbed both of Jane's ankles, getting a good look at the real estate between Jane's spread thighs. George took Jane's wrists.

"Nice lip action," said Al.

"Even in this poor girl's condition, you two won't let her alone," said the woman. "Men!"

"It's different when you know she's going to be hot in a few minutes," said Al happily. "Can't explain it!"

"One...two...three!" George and Al swung the plumped-up Jane through the air and onto a gurney. "Jesus, she's heavy," said George, wiping his brow. They threw Jane's flip-flops onto the gurney and wheeled her away.

The vacuum press was a conveyor belt running through a long metal construction in a room that looked like an airplane hangar. The guys summoned up their strength once more to hoist Jane onto the conveyor belt and roll her onto her stomach, then arranged her arms neatly by her side. In her overstuffed state, rump in the air, Jane looked as if she was ready to be served on a platter.

George moved behind a console on the side of the room, with Al positioning himself behind a bank of monitors. George flipped a switch, and the belt transported Jane quickly into the metal enclosure. She came to a stop in a spacious chamber filled with unidentifiable electronics, with the guys watching her via a video/audio hookup.

George activated the system's robotic interface. An arm descended from the ceiling and slowly inserted what looked like a large cooking thermometer into Jane's upturned ass, wiggling it back and forth and applying pressure and lubricant until Jane's asshole closed around the intruder. Even on the monitors, the guys could see Jane's eyes go wide as saucers, and they could hear her making pathetic little sedated noises. But that was all she could do.

"Are you getting life signs?" asked George.

"Loud and clear. Leave that sensor right where it is," said Al.

"Okay. Let's see what we're working with here," said George.

Robot arms gingerly captured both Jane's wrists in padded cuffs and extended them over her head. Slowly, she was lifted off the floor to a standing position. Other padded cuffs surrounded her ankles and pulled them apart until she stood in an X position. Poor Jane looked like a filled water balloon.

"She's going to come out awesome," said George.

"No implants, some meat on her bones already. Where did this one come from?" said Al. "You just don't get this kind of material here."

"And she belongs to the fucking Kit Kat Klub," said George.

"No way!" said a surprised Al.

"Yeah, something's screwy here. Well - not our job, right?"

"Brown hair, yet," said Al.

"Yeah. Okay, I'm bringing in the corset," said George.

More robotic arms approached Jane from all sides. Each one ended in a curved panel. The arms arranged themselves around Jane's midsection, which was where much of her recent weight gain had ended up. The panels then extended themselves sideways until they met and locked in a circle around Jane, looking indeed like a corset.

"Check the sedation," said George.

"I'm amazed she's even awake," said Al. "She's definitely feeling no pain."

"Then let's get her girlish figure back," said George, leaning on a joystick.

The corset closed in on Jane's middle, and her eyes shot open in surprise. With a loud squishy sound, the excess fat on Jane travelled immediately to her upper and lower body, as if she were a jelly doughnut being squeezed. The result wasn't exactly flattering, but she definitely had a waist now.

"Got her to 36 with no effort," said George. "Where's she going?"

"24," said Al.

"If she were my girlfriend," said George, "I'd leave her at 28 or even 30, with the knockers that she's going to have."

"But if you were watching her at the Kit Kat Klub," said Al, "you'd be very interested in 24, or even lower."

"Point well taken," said George. "How's her internal pressure?"

"You've got miles before you red-line," said Al. "She's a real cream puff. Do whatever you want with her."

"Here goes 24," said George. The corset moved in on Jane. Her alarmed mmmphing noises behind her mouth stopper were almost as loud as the sticky sound of fat being squeezed out of her middle. When it was all over, she looked like a barbell with arms and legs.

"So far, so good," said George. "Get on the other console, dude. Time to squeeze the toothpaste tube from both ends."

This delicate operation required two operators. Al left his monitor and moved to a second console next to George. Meanwhile, George repositioned Jane so she was parallel to the ground and facing the ceiling, with the corset mechanism supporting her like the center stand of a table. Carefully, the robot arms brought Jane's hands together over her head and closed her plump legs. Then it rotated her hands and feet to make them as parallel to the floor as possible. The guys cut to an overhead view of Jane, almost figure-eight-shaped due to the cinch around her waist, posed as if she were in the middle of a high dive.

"Let's do a zero-pressure trial run," said George. Above Jane's hands and below her feet, giant rollers extended toward her. It looked as if she were about to be put through a set of wringers.

Coordinating their actions, George and Al advanced the rollers on the two ends of Jane's body. The surprised girl made muffled noises as she was engulfed. The top rollers swallowed her arms, head and shoulders, leaving only her breasts visible above the corset; the bottom rollers contained her legs right up to the bulge of her ass.

George and Al retracted the rollers. Jane looked the same as before.

"We have approximate pressure readings, we've got the mouth plug factored out, we've got the sensor factored out," said George. "Last-minute sedation check?"

Al jumped up to check the readings. "She's a total zombie," he said, resuming his seat.

"Okay, let's do this girl," said George.

The rollers advanced again, this time more slowly. As soon as Jane's fingers and toes were caught in them, she began some serious mmmphing. The rollers were exerting pressure on her from all sides, pushing excess body fat down toward the middle of her body, leaving a calculated quantity of fat behind.

The parts of Jane in front of the rollers were visibly bulging. Before long, Jane's alarmed-looking face was caught in the rollers as well. The guys were working slowly and carefully, adjusting the pressure as needed. If they did a good job now, it would mean less tinkering later.

The rollers reached their end points and stopped. Jane looked like a giant pair of tits and a bulging ass floating in space.

The guys stared for a second, then high-fived. "Yes! Get out the hi-res! This is one for the scrapbook," said George.

The guys used the system's best camera to take pictures of poor Jane, who was still embedded in the rollers except for her now-overendowed torso. To the layperson, her proportions would have looked odd; but the guys had been doing this work long enough to see a good result coming.

"I can move her out to the holding area if you want to pose with her," said Al.

"No, let's be professional about this," said George.

The rollers retracted into the walls, and Jane was put back into her standing X position, and raised up onto her tiptoes. The corset detached from her and withdrew, and a robot arm descended to flip a switch on the nozzle and work it free of Jane's mouth. She drooled all over herself and tried to speak, but she was too doped up to get a coherent sentence out.

The guys gave Jane a good once-over. Her hands, her feet, and even her face looked pretty much the same as when Kevin had dropped her off this morning - maybe a little softer in spots. Her calves, forearms and neck were slighly fuller. But the guys had given her a bit more heft in the areas near her torso. Jane's thighs were majestically wide where they framed her pussy and supported her ass, then tapered gradually to slender knees. And her shoulders and rib cage were now so broad and curved that she would have a womanly figure even without breasts.

And she most definitely had breasts. Two basketball-sized fleshy projections pointed away from her chest at a 90-degree angle from each other. Her ass too was of heroic proportions, jutting out far behind her. Each cheek was so large that it seemed to be fighting the other for room on her silhouette. 75% of the body fat that had been pumped into Jane's mouth had now been turned into tits and ass. Connecting the two was a slender waist that barely looked adequate for the task.

Jane's proportions and fat distribution still needed work. But the hard part was over. "It's fun time," said George.

For laughs, Al played a CD of old cartoon music on the intercom. An array of cup-shaped devices on robotic arms emerged around the confused Jane, whose sedated mind hadn't yet grasped what was happening to her. One of the devices approached Jane's left breast, then, with a sudden whooshing sound, sucked it in whole.

Jane's "Oh!" could be heard over the speakers. A similar device moved in and vacuumed up Jane's other breast. The devices planted themselves firmly on Jane's chest and started quivering and making suction noises. Too drugged to get a coherent sentence out, Jane was making the strangest collection of noises as the cups tugged at her: "OW!! Ooohh... WAIT! I'm not... HELP!! Help. Ooh ooh ooh..."

Finally both devices released their grip with a loud "pop!" And there stood Jane with her breasts reconfigured into the most luscious hyperbolic shapes imaginable, swelling and then sloping to lovely pink tips. She looked bewildered at the intimate handling she had received.

Tiny cups moved in to suck up Jane's nipples. As her soft breasts rippled with the jolts administered to her nipples, Jane's mutterings became even odder: "Uuuhh... No... Yes... Daddy..."

"She called you 'daddy,' dude," said Al.

"No, she called *you* 'daddy,'" said George.

The cups popped off of Jane, leaving her with long, thick, rounded nipples the size of her thumbs, and wide, dark pink areoles. Then the largest of the devices grabbed onto both of Jane's ass cheeks at once with a loud "THWACK!" sound. Jane's whole body shook in the padded cuffs as the device redistributed her excess weight. When she finally popped free, she vibrated back and forth in her bonds like a bow string. But her new ass was the press's finest work, a heart-shaped structure that began at the narrow part of her back and swelled into buoyant globes that came alive with the slightest movement of her thighs.

"Before I do her lips, tell me what the specs say about the face," said George.

Al picked up Jane's work order. "They put twenty different fields on these facial specs, and all they really need is two pre-sets: 'slut' and 'girl next door,'" he said.

"So which one is this?" asked George.

Al scanned the page. "Slut," he said. He flipped to the next page and kept reading. "Slut," he confirmed.

"Mistake," said George. "Definitely a girl next door."

Al handed George the paper. George read a bit of it and shrugged. "Slut," he said, reaching for the joystick.

A device grabbed both of Jane's lips at once and pulled them in. "Mmmm! Mmmm!" said the bewildered girl as the cup sucked on her face. When it released her with a "pop!" Jane's lips were a permanent dark pink, and formed a plump, perfect O. The guys could see her trying to move them, but she didn't seem to have much control over their shape.

"Okay, kill the music and let's wind it up here," said George.

Jane was starting to look like a finished product, but she still needed some detail work. A set of small tools, looking like tiny paint rollers of different sizes, descended around her. Choosing the appropriate size roller for the area he was working on, George gradually smoothed out uneven spots in the distribution of Jane's body fat, or worked on the boundaries around her suctioned or corseted areas. It was a slow job, but rewarding, in that every part of Jane that went under the rollers emerged perfect. The zone that needed the most rollering was Jane's groin and pussy, which had received some of the body fat that was intended for her ass. George gradually pushed and smoothed the area between Jane's legs so that her pubic area was ever so slightly convex, her outer lips bulging appealingly without hiding her inner lips. Still sedated, Jane babbled all sorts of intimacies while her sex parts were being worked over. At one point the guys distinctly heard her say "Kevin," though her O-shaped lips made the "V" hard to pronounce.

"She said 'Kevin,' dude," said Al. "Looks like you're not her daddy after all."

"We'll see about that," said George.

As a final touch, George used the smallest roller to make Jane's eyelids hang a little lower, for a seductive effect. The heavy eyelids and the big lips were enough by themselves to move Jane definitively from the "girl next door" category to "slut."

After Jane's detail work was finished, Al checked her papers for remaining items.

"Pitch adjustment..." said Al.

"Her voice is already high," said George.

"That's what it says," said Al.

A metal collar clamped around Jane's neck, then lit up with readouts and meters. George flipped a switch, and Jane began vocalizing helplessly. "Aaaaaah...." Her eyes showed her distress, but she kept singing a single note, as if she was doing vocal exercises.

George moved a lever up and down, and Jane's pitch moved with it. She ended up on a high, chirpy note, still unable to stop singing "Aaaaaah...." Another dial increased the sound of air passing around Jane's vocal cords. When George had a breathy sound that appealed to him, he pressed a red button. The collar glowed red for a second, then detached from Jane's neck and retracted.

George used the collar to tweak one of Jane's protuberant nipples, to test her new voice, and also because it was such a tempting target. "Oooh," she said involuntarily, in a tiny high breathy voice that you would normally hear only in a cartoon. Silly, but sexy.

"What else?" said George

"Foot angle."

George maneuvered the robot arms that held Jane so that she was lifted into the air, an inch or two off the floor. Two metallic sheaths mounted on arms cradled Jane's entire calves and locked around them, lighting up with readouts. Small metallic cuffs unfolded from the bottoms of the sheaths and closed around the middles of Jane's feet, encircling her arches but leaving her heels and toes bare. George controlled the angle between the two sections with a crank on the side of the console that looked like the handle on fishing tackle. He reeled Jane's feet in until they were pointing straight down, and even took it a little further, so that her ankles curved out slightly in front. When the angle looked right, George pushed the red button, and the calf sheathes glowed red in the back, then withdrew. Jane was now on permanent tiptoe.

George deployed a feather and tickled Jane's soles as a test. Her toes fluttered, and she strained against the padded cuffs, but she couldn't angle her feet away from the feather. Using a robot arm, George pushed gently on each of Jane's toes: they were still flexible and could bend in either direction.

"No more flip-flops for her," said George, lowering Jane to the floor again. "What else?"

"Just the rest of the facial work," Al said.

"I didn't like the slut idea at first, but she's taking to it nicely," said George. "And that's it?"

"That's it."

George dialed in a few settings and pressed a button. A mask-like device descended from the ceiling and pressed itself onto Jane's surprised face. The mask whirred and clicked for a while, then released its suction grip with a loud noise. Jane now had permanent eyeliner and dark eye shadow, as well as elongated blackened lashes. Her face had been gently recolored to smooth out her complexion, with a hint of rouge below her cheekbones.

"What do you think?" said George.

The guys looked at the results of their work. Jane was still faintly recognizable as her old self, if one looked past her eye-catching lips and paid attention to her features. But she had been reconfigured into a cartoonist's impossible fantasy of what a woman should be. Her tits and ass were so projectile, and so dramatically set off by her tiny waist, that she would instantly stop traffic and cause public disturbances if she were put onto the street.

"Awesome," said Al.

"Beyond my expectations," said George. "One in a thousand. Scan her for any little flaws that we can fix."

Al used the monitor's highest magnification and went over Jane with a fine-tooth comb. "There's a birthmark on the leg."

George looked. "That's easy." He pulled out a device that averaged skin pigmentation, and attached it to Jane's leg without even dialing in settings. Jane's birthmark vanished on the first try. "Anything else?"

"A little scar on the wrist," Al said.

The scar took a little more effect, but a subcutaneous laser broke up the lesion. When he was finished, the mark was barely visible.

"I can't spot anything else," said Al.

The guys took photos of the redesigned Jane for their scrapbooks. "Is she solid yet?" asked George.

Al looked at the data stream from Jane's sensor. "She's probably stable, but according to this we should let her set for another 45 minutes," he said.

"Okay. Let's put her in storage and go out for some condoms," said George.

"I hate using condoms," said Al.

"She belongs to the Kit Kat Klub, remember?" said George.

"Yeah, okay," said Al.

The sensor, completely hidden between Jane's globular ass cheeks, was removed, causing Jane to squeak some confused, breathy noises of pleasure. A spraycan emerged from the wall and quickly misted Jane with a fast-acting casing of glue that froze her face in a surprised expression. The padded cuffs that had been holding her spreadeagled unlatched all at once, and she fell face forward to the floor, still in her X position and stiff as a board. But a mattress emerged from beneath her to break her fall. Before Jane had stopped bouncing, a mobile unit that looked like a forklift grabbed her by the ankles, holding her rigid and horizontal as if she were a hood ornament, and drove her into the storage chamber, where she was inserted head first into a small, girl-sized slot in the wall. The unit inked a temporary bar code onto the sole of her foot for inventory purposes, then withdrew. Still in a druggy daze, Jane daydreamed in her storage area while her glue-encased body metabolized the last of the added fat and settled into its new permanent state.


Exactly 45 minutes later, an automated program pulled Jane out of storage by her ankles, sprayed her with solvent, scrubbed her clean, dried her with hot air, and laid her on the system conveyor belt. Startled at this sudden burst of activity, Jane lolled helplessly on the belt, making a few breathy noises, looking as if she didn't have a bone in her body. The system printed out a final report, enumerating all the changes it had made to Jane, and attached it to a plastic tie that it fastened around her two big toes. The belt started up and transported Jane to the holding area, where George and Al were waiting.

The guys pulled Jane off the belt, undid her toe bondage, and stood her on her tiptoes, which was now the only way she could stand. Her center of gravity was very different from what she was used to, and she would have toppled over if they hadn't steadied her by her arms.

"Hello there," said Al.

"He'oh," Jane said unsteadily. Her new lips were hard to use.

"Is she still high?" asked George.

Al looked at Jane's pupils. "She's still out of it," he said.

"And the pickup is in half an hour," said George. "Fuck it, let's just do the training session. No one says she has to remember any of it."

"Jesus, she's hot," Al said. He squeezed Jane's protruding tits as if she were an inanimate object.

"Those are my...oooh!" said Jane, trying to focus her eyes.

"She needs some shoes," said George. "Looks like a seven to me."

He went to a closet and returned with a pair of very high-heeled backless sandals, which he slipped onto Jane's feet. She didn't seem much steadier on the shoes than she had been barefoot.

Al checked Jane's specs. "Okay...Sindi?" He looked at George. "For Christ's sake. Sindi? With an S?"

"Hurry up," said George.

"Sindi, state laws require that you receive sixty minutes of physical therapy after your blah blah blah," Al said to her. "If you wish to continue physical therapy, you are entitled to six additional sessions at standard blah blah blah."

"She can't understand you anyway," said George. "If I miss my crack at her because you're reading her her rights, I'll be very upset."

"Okay," said Al. "Sindi, try to take a step." Jane stared at him blankly. "Walk!" he yelled. Jane tried to walk, but her hips just weren't working the way they used to. Finally she bunny-hopped forward with both legs, and needed to be caught.

"Sindi, listen," said Al. He grabbed her massive ass with both hands and rotated it back and forth. "Can you feel this hip movement? Jesus," he said to George, "this girl is fucking amazing."

"Hurry up," said George.

"Sindi, you have to swing your hips, swing your hips," Al said loudly. "And then your leg will move forward. Watch." He pivoted her ass as hard as he could. Sure enough, the considerable momentum lifted Jane's leg off the floor and advanced it about nine inches. He rotated her in the other direction, and Jane successfully completed her first tiny step forward. "Now you try."

It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Jane was walking unsteadily by swinging her hips as hard as she could. Whenever her ass rotated in one direction, her boobs had an equal but opposite reaction in the other, flying from side to side with enough force to put someone's eye out.

"Very good," Al said. "Okay, take a break." Jane was in fact panting with exhaustion. "Sit here."

Al sat in a chair and pulled Jane forward so that she was straddling him, then began unzipping his pants.

"Condom," said George, still waiting his turn.

"What?" said the distracted Al.

"Kit Kat Klub," said George.

"Oh, shit," said Al. He fumbled in his pockets for a condom, pulled it hastily over his cock, then pulled Jane hastily down over the condom. The weary, confused Jane bounced helplessly up and down on Al, her breasts bouncing wildly in all directions, as Al grabbed her ass for dear life and pumped her energetically.

"That was fantastic," said a spent Al when it was over. George impatiently lifted Jane, who looked as if she'd run a marathon, off of Al's lap and guided her to a couch on the other side of the holding area.

"Speech therapy," he said to Jane in a loud voice, as if she couldn't speak English. And, in fact, poor Jane still wasn't processing information very well. Did someone just have sex with her, or was she imagining things? "Speech therapy," repeated George. "Rule, rule, rule, regulation, regulation, yadda, yadda, yadda. Speech therapy. Understand? Good. Now repeat after me. Say 'yes.'"

"Yes," said the bewildered Jane.

"Very good. Now say 'no.'"


"Great. That's a passing score already," said George. "Now, some sounds are going to be a challenge for you with those lips. 'M,' for instance. Say 'mama.'"

"Ah-ah," said Jane. She looked worried.

"Bring your lips together," said George, grabbing Jane's plump pink lips and squeezing them together in the middle. When he released them, they immediately sprang back into an O shape. "Try again. 'Mama.'"

"Ah-ah," said Jane, no closer than before.

"Okay, you'll have to work on that," said George. "Another tricky sound for girls like you is 'P.' Also 'B.' Here, I'll move your lips for you. Say 'baby.'"

"Mmmm-aaa-buh-mmm! Eeee." George didn't get the timing quite right. "Try it. Use your fingers," said George.

Jane was startled when she felt her new lips for the first time. "Go ahead, make the sounds with your fingers. 'Baby,'" said George.

"Buh," said Jane successfully. "Aaa. Buh. Eeee."

"Excellent. Practice that at home," said George. 'You can rest now. Turn around."

"Aaa-eee," said Jane again, alarmed at her new speech problem, while George placed her in doggy position on the couch, her spectacular breasts hanging down almost to the cushions. He unzipped.

"Condom," reminded Al from across the room. "Kit Kat Klub."

"What?" said George. "God damn it." He went for a condom, then plunged deep into Jane's cunt from behind. "Oh, Christ, that feels good!" he said as he started pumping. He managed to get his hands around the surprised girl's dangling breasts, then used them to pull her entire upper body toward him, arching Jane's back and lifting her hands off the sofa. Helpless and drug-addled, Jane still seemed to have an inkling that something sexual was going on. "Hhh... 'uck ee," she squeaked, even breathier than usual.

"Very good," said George, breathing hard as he worked off hours of pent-up sexual tension. "You can make an 'F' sound. Try again."

"Uuh, uuh, uuh, uuh, uuh," grunted Jane, her mind no longer on phonics, as George exploded inside her. She pitched forward when he released her, making a soft landing on the couch with her breasts; he fell forward across the spacious cushion of her upturned ass.

An announcement was heard over the intercom: "Driver from the Kit Kat Klub for a pickup at the rear entrance."

"Whew, not a minute to spare," said George, zipping up. "I'll finish the paperwork - go find something she can wear."

Al retrieved a hospital gown, which expanded so much across Jane's chest that its hem rode up almost to her tiny waist. "Take the shoes back," said George. "They're expensive."

The guys hustled Jane, bare-assed and on tiptoes, out into the alley and into the rear seat of a limousine. As the driver pulled away, Jane keeled over and passed out from fatigue.


Kevin went to pick Jane up at the real Acme Hair Salon and found out that she had never showed up for her appointment. It took him a solid week of detective work before he showed up at the Kit Kat Klub one Friday afternoon. After he paid the door price and his eyes had adjusted to the light, the first thing he saw was a cigarette girl, who was staring at him with wide open eyes. "Why is that bimbo looking at me?" thought Kevin. Then his jaw dropped as he realized that the bimbo was his girlfriend.

Jane was standing in the table section, a tray full of cigarettes and cigars belted around her slender waist and suspended by a strap around her neck. She was wearing a blonde 40s-style shoulder-length wig with bangs and a flip. Like the other Kit Kat girls, she wore a headband with little cat ears, and had four cat whiskers strategically glued to her cheeks. A tiny thong-like pair of black shorts was covered with black fishnets that descended to shiny six-inch black high heels. Most customers never noticed these details, because Jane was working topless, and her double-F-cup breasts hung over the tiny cigarette tray like thunderclouds over a plain.

Kevin and Jane stared at each other in shock. Finally Kevin approached.

"Jane?" he said. He still wasn't 100% sure. The lips were especially confusing.

"Ke'in, I can't talk here," Jane said.

"What happened to your voice?" asked Kevin. "What happened to the rest of you? What's going on?"

"Ke'in, 'leese 'uy suh cigarettes," said Jane. Kevin couldn't understand. "I 'orking. I can't talk to custo'ers unless they aye suh'thing."

A husky guy of about 50 in a black shirt approached. "Any trouble here?"

"No, 'ister DeGrazia,' said Jane in her high little voice.

"This is my girlfriend," said Kevin. "What's going on here?"

"She's your girlfriend?" said the man.

"He 'as going to 'uy suh cigarettes," said Jane.

"Yes, she's my girlfriend, and I've been looking for her for a week," said Kevin, getting more excitable.

"Dollface, go work those tables and give us a moment alone," said the man. He turned Jane around and gave her a slap on her fishnet-covered ass.

"Yes, 'ister DeGrazia," said Jane, and walked away, taking tiny steps. She looked as if she were moving in three different directions at once. Kevin's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"So, pal, I apologize for this. Somebody made a mistake somewhere down the line," said the man, counting five one-thousand dollar bills into Kevin's hand. "You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everybody makes them."

"A mistake? What are you talking about?" said Kevin. "What happened to her?"

"Who can say at this point?" said the man. He put another $5,000 in Kevin's hand. "The best thing for us all is for you to take her home and just forget this ever happened."

"What? You want me to pretend that nothing happened?" yelled Kevin.

"Take her home, please. She's not much good here," said the man, still counting out money. "She can't dance, she can barely fucking walk, she's not even that hot in the sack, no offense intended, with a body like that you can't expect much movement, though with those bazooms nobody complains. You take her home, everybody's happy, no one needs to hear anything about this. Here, let's make it an even twenty G's."

And so Kevin took Jane home. Still dressed in her cigarette girl outfit, complete with whiskers, she held her hands over her nipples as they drove - her hands were big enough to cover her nipples, but just barely. Truck drivers hovered alongside their car for miles at a time.

"Jane, what happened?" yelled Kevin.

"I don't kna!" said Jane. "I just 'anted a haircut!"

At home, Kevin looked at Jane as she bent over the bathroom sink to inspect her lips in the mirror. She was wearing only her high heels and her Kit Kat shorty-shorts. Her body in profile looked like a question mark, with her ass sticking provocatively up and out, and her hanging breasts nestling in the sink. Pinching her lips together to help her pronunciation, she said "Mama," using her fingers. Then she took them away. "Ah-ah."

Taking Jane for medical advice would have to wait until the weekend was over. Kevin was starting to make a mental list of interesting things to do in the meantime.

The End


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