#wlb

Vic cries out around Essie, his eyes swinging frantically and finding nothing but an abundance of skin. 

At his hips, his jeans are undone, the zipper dragged apart, and his waistband is being tugged down his thighs. Vic thrashes, flailing his legs as much as he can. He tries to throw himself forward into Essie, his mouth still stuffed but open as he yells.

He can’t gain any ground. The more he jostles her, the harder Essie pushes back, wedging herself down his throat as his jeans are forced down to his knees. A breeze cuts through Vic’s boxers, mild air brushing the wet patch between his legs. Someone reminds Essie of something, something Vic can’t hear over himself. Then, more of Essie presses into his face as she leans forward, her breath tickling his ear.

And the song returns, the melody short-circuiting Vic until he goes limp. He whimpers. Pressure builds around his face, someone squeezing again, and a new rivulet of milk drains into him. He gulps it down. The taste is soothing, the texture, smooth and gentle. He’s lulled into complacency just as Jason cups his cunt. Vic mewls into Essie at the pressure Jason exerts, grinding back and forth over Vic’s pussy. 

Jason slides a few fingers up and down Vic’s spine, shushing him like a frantic animal. He coos, “That’s a good boy now, isn’t it?”

And Vic groans, long and throaty. It’s the missing piece of his pre-programming, the correct gender slotted into the cue for the first time. His legs go slack behind him, his crotch sagging into Jason’s grasp as he becomes wet anew. Jason laughs behind him. “That’s what I thought. Yes, we’ll have you trained and ready in no time, won’t we, boy?”

He doesn’t wait for Vic to respond. He glides Vic’s boxers down to his pants, all piled in a crumpled mess. Jason prods Vic’s legs further apart, and glides his hands over Vic’s plump lips. His pubic hair is coarse, dense, and damp. He traces his hands over each side, feeling for the length and size.

“Thick,” he comments. He spreads Vic apart with his pointer and ring fingers, gliding his middle finger into Vic’s center. Vic’s calves tense beneath him. Jason pushes through his wet, juicy folds, circling the slippery rim of his hole. He pushes in, just up to his first knuckle, and then back out, using the fluid to continue combing through. Jason inches his way up his cunt, stopping at the swollen, throbbing knob of Vic’s clit.

“Oh, wow. The effects of hormone replacement therapy.” He sighs as he taps the pad of his finger to Vic’s tip. Vic jolts, but can’t go far. Jason smiles to himself, and rubs up the inch and a half of Vic’s length. He presses lightly at first, letting Vic’s slick guide him back and forth, until he presses firmly. Vic’s back arches, his knees pulled to the base of the fence as he bears down, begging Jason for more. Jason rubs with that much more exertion until Vic’s thighs are straining, unable to bounce against his touch.

Jason slows, much to Vic’s distressed whimper, and trails Vic’s brief length with a flick each time he reaches the tip. Vic punctuates Jason’s movement with a matching jolt, drowned by Essie’s flesh. “Can’t wait to put my mouth on you,” Jason murmurs to himself.

He clears his throat and bends over Vic’s body while maintaining his grip on Vic’s cunt. Jason asks, “Don’t you feel good, Vic? Doesn’t it feel… satisfying, to let yourself go like this?”

Vic grunts.

“Yes, exactly. Why think any harder than this, for the rest of your life? Why try to be something you’re not?”

At that, Vic stirs. He pushes off of Essie with his lips, his eyes still glassy but the sheen fading. “I’m… I’m not…”

“Ah-ah,” Jason shushes him, both verbally and with a harder press to his clit. “See, this is what we can free you from. You won’t need to protest. You won’t need to try. We know who you are, and we accept you.”

“Mm… n-no,” Vic grumbles. He tries to spread his legs any further, moving from side to side in an attempt to offset Jason’s touch. “I… I’m me…”

On the other side of the fence, Essie whines. She scoots forward until her tits press against either side of Vic’s face. 

“W-wait… I don’t… I…” She’s smooth, silken around Vic; warm. Dark. The world is obscured and morphed into her bulging presence, so inviting and all-encompassing. She’s melded into his pores. The scent of her skin, of her milk, filters into him with every breathy inhale. Essie bounces against his face,  and Vic’s protest dissolves into an open-mouthed moan, his tongue dragging across the sweet expanse of Essie as he takes her in through every channel.

Jason finds his cue. He adds a finger and lodges Vic’s clit in the crease between his middle and pointer. He presses harder, rubs faster. Vic fades into nothing but empty noises filtering through his relaxed throat, sensation traveling from his cunt to the emptying hole in his head.

“See, Vic? Bestial. Animalistic. Nothing but your base instincts and urges. You can forget everything you needed to be for the outside world. You can let everything fade. You’re ours, now. Aren’t you?”

There’s a slight change in Vic’s tone, something Jason reads as affirmative.

“Yes, that’s it. You’re ours. You’re going to let us think for you, work for you, to make you so happy. You love to be happy.”

A weaker, more pathetic sound emits from Vic’s other end.

“I know, I know. It’s been so hard up until now. But this is it, Vic. Your chance to live the life you deserve. We’re taking you home with us, and everything’s going to be so much easier once you’re there. I know that’s what you want, Vic.”

Nuzzled between Essie’s tits and his cunt dripping in Jason’s palm, Vic falls open. His body relaxes limb by limb, following his spine as his hands and legs melt into the bed of grass. 

“That’s perfect, Vic. Perfect. Why don’t we try something then, hm?” Jason slows his fingers to a stop, and finds that Vic doesn’t protest. He cups Vic’s pussy and fingers his lips, an attempt to remember their shape in the coming hours he won’t have direct access.

“Stay like this for me. Stay open, stay pliable. Take suggestions. Feel how good it feels to let me take care of you, Vic. You need to be cared for.”

Vic’s posture has drooped. His face is angled toward Essie’s cunt, though it’s covered by her flimsy sundress. He can smell her wetness, her own slick gushing between her folds.

“Open…” he says, hopefully out loud.

“Yes, that’s it, Vic. Open, you’re going to stay loose and open for me for the rest of today, aren’t you? Actually, I can help you do that. You’re going to let me help you, Vic.”

“Ye-... help me…”

“Of course I will, Vic.”

Jason reaches into his back pocket for a small, leather case no bigger than a wallet. Inside, a flat virbator and its sliver of a remote sit snugly within the foam molding. Once pried free, Jason attaches the vibrator to the inside of Vic’s boxers by its adhesive side, and tests it. One push of the remote, and it buzzes to life. Additional clicks up the speed by one, by two, by three. Jason holds the remote and the vibrator’s buzzing subsides as it goes still.

Jason pulls at Vic’s underwear until it’s inching up over his ass, tucking the vibrator neatly against his clit and pussy. His jeans come up next. Vic is pieced back together, all with the undercurrent of a dazed moan. And with that, Jason reaches around Vic’s waist, his large hands sinking into his doughy sides, and is set to pull him back from the fence’s gnarled teeth.

But he hears footfall.

Jason drops Vic and stands to his full height. He watches for movement, for flickers in the cover of branches that line this back, desolate corner of the park. He hears whistling before he sees him.

A man maybe a few years older than Jason, bald, strolls through in basketball shorts and a sweatjacket dangling open over his bare chest. His hands are at rest in his pockets, comfortable, as is his attitude. Nonplussed by the sight of Jason and Vic’s now-clothed ass hanging out.

“Hey there. You guys gonna be a minute?” 

Jason rolls his shoulders. “Just finishing up. You come here often?”

“Enough,” the guy shrugs. “It’s a pretty popular spot. Nice and private. He yours?”

He gestures with the point of his pocket to Vic.

“Yeah. Brought him with me. Why do you ask?”

“Lots of guys get in that same position and take it from anyone. And he looks good like that.”

Jason bristles from tailbone to ears, an electric zing pulsing through him. “You want to see something?”

The stranger’s eyes bounce between Jason and the fence. “By all means.”

Jason fingers the remote, creeping the tip of his thumb up to its button. He digs into the edges with his fingernail, narrowing his focus to Vic’s back. He circles the pad, watching, waiting for the click to happen almost by accident. When it does, when the pressure of his thumb over the trigger gets to be too much and Vic’s underwear comes alive, Vic loosens another moan. This one louder, whiny, practically begging.

“Now that’s nice. And he’s done for the day, huh?” The man angles himself for Vic’s trembling shape. The front of his shorts are baggy, but not enough to hide his cresting bulge. “What a shame.”

“Well,” Jason starts, fitting pieces together as he speaks, “I could let you borrow him. I’ll need to take him with me when you’re done, but he has a couple minutes to spare.”

“You sure? Don’t want to overstep.” His tongue darts over his bottom lip.

Jason gives a tilting nod. “Give me one second. You don’t mind if I stay nearby, of course?”

The man shrugs. “He’s your property, right? You’re good.”

Jason smiles, “Yeah. He’s mine.”

And Jason trots around back. Essie sits lifting Vic’s head and cradling it in her cleavage, his eyes wandering and dazed. His cheeks are streaked with a glossy wetness, leftover collections of Essie’s milk smeared this way and that. Jason kneels to their height and cranes for the side of Vic’s head. The hot rush of his breath bats at Vic’s ear and tickles short strands of his sideburns.

“Something’s about to happen, Vic, do you understand? We’re going to let someone help open you up.”

A garbled sound falls from Vic’s mouth.

“It’s going to feel like what i know you’ve had before, but this time, everything changes. Every time you feel so full, I want you to let it push out the old. Got it? You’re going to let this shape you. Remember, you’re going to be so loose for me, right, boy?”

Vic’s head moves, slightly, in what Jason interprets as a nod.

“Essie,” he says, turning to her. Her bright eyes lock onto his immediately. “Will you hold our friend for me? Make sure he’s comfortable? You can keep feeding him, if you like.”

Essie nods, slow and easy, as she strokes a clumsy hand through Vic’s hair.

Jason stands and gives the stranger a thumbs up over the fence. The man returns it, and bends down. Vic startles as his jeans come down again, his underwear with them.

The man whistles appreciatively. “He’s drenched. How long do you think he can take?”

“Honestly, not sure. I’ve got him pretty worked up. You take your time, though. No real rush.”

“Alright, thanks.”

And the man pulls his shorts down to ride beneath his dick, already standing at attention. He lines himself up with the curve of Vic’s ass, one hand braced against his thick flank. He bounces his dick against Vic’s cheeks, a warning that leaves little shiny dots of precum behind. Vic struggles to lift his head, strength flowing back into his arms as he grips at clods of dirt. “N…no, wait…”

Jason bends back to Vic’s side. “Remember, Vic. Nice and open. Don’t you want to be good for us? Don’t you want to show us you can do this?”

Vic’s brow crumples. “I… I don’t…”

He squeals, high and tight, as the man plunges his cock deep into his cunt without further warning. The man moans almost as loudly, holding his position as he feels Vic’s walls give around him.

Jason holds Vic by the jaw. “You feel that, boy? You feel yourself stretching around him? That’s it, adjust to that. Feel how big he is, feel how you shape yourself around him. That’s it. Just let the sense of it flood into you.”

And Vic whines pitifully. “S…stop… wait…”

And for one hopeful minute, Vic thinks the cock inside him listens. It retreats inch by inch, dragging itself through the thick slick coating Vic’s insides. But the dream doesn’t last. Cock spears back through him, somehow deeper this time, knocking Vic forward with the force. Vic grapples for leverage, tries to pull himself farther forward and away from what feels like something transcendent altering him with each new physical sensation – Essie’s tits pressed more firmly to his face, distorting his vision, the hands playing with his hair that cloud his mind, what little is left of it as the jingle returns in a warm rush against his ear. Vic is tied to this reality, to this moment by another thrust of dick slotted into his warm, open hole as it develops a rhythm. And he can’t escape. The broken gap in the fence is still softened by his sweatjacket tucked between himself and the splintered wood, but it pinches and pulls as he’s pushed back and forth. Vic wriggles forward with each lunge, but there’s just not enough room. He’s stuck, and gradually his will is fading.

Unfiltered noises are struck from him with each slap of the man’s skin against Vic’s bare ass and thighs. He answers questions he doesn’t remember, can’t differentiate between a growing, stretching soreness, pleasure, and the chafing sensation that he’s losing himself, and worse, doesn’t know if he cares anymore. The part of him that is so attached to his identity and so sure of himself, as he’s had to be for so many years, is getting quieter. It spikes a panic in his chest that should be screaming, but is muffled to something dull and distant.

Outside, the man fucks Vic at a steady pace, wipes sweat from his brow as the morning is slipping into midday, and laughs. He doesn’t remember the last time he fucked something this soft, and he doesn’t want to stop. Jason hums at Vic’s side with a hand resting on Essie’s thigh while she squeezes herself around either side of Vic’s face. Jason watches the light flicker in Vic’s eyes. He bounces between the same glaze that coats Essie’s expression and what looks like an uncomfortable want. It gets hazier as the man ramps up. He plows Vic faster, with more force, and grunts with his efforts.

Vic’s little noises get louder, his face pinched and more vacant. He’s close, Jason can tell.

He rises and leans over the fence. “Hey, he’s almost there. Pull out, alright?”

The man works a few more rounds through Vic without answer.

“Pull out, man. He’s done.”

The man gives a disappointed groan, and with a final, gushing wet pop! throws himself from Vic’s cunt as hot, viscous cum spurts down Vic’s spine, leaving Vic’s cunt throbbing beneath him. Vic’s body buzzes with pent-up energy swarming from end to end of him and looking for a release. He strings sounds together in Essie’s flesh, but is only rewarded with a ruffle of his hair.

The man wipes his cock clean with Vic’s underwear. He gives Jason a salute and turns for the treeline, satisfied and no longer interested. Jason ensures he’s gone before he gets Vic dressed again in all but his binder, and finally drags him free of the fence’s clutch. Upright, Vic sways from side to side, unsteady. He gasps into a moan when Jason pinches one of his nipples through his shirt and nearly goes to his knees.

“That’s right, Vic. Still open for me, aren’t you?” Jason asks.

“I’m… open,” Vic slurs. “Open to… open.”

“That’s right. So open. Feel how wet you are right now? How your pussy wishes it was still filled? That’s good. That’s how you’re meant to be, boy.”

“O…okay. Wanna… Wanna cum…”

“You will. You just have to be patient. And you’re open to being patient, aren’t you?”

“Open…”

“That’s it. Alright, Essie, up tall.”

As Essie finds her footing, Jason walks the three of them back through the city, he and Essie shouldering Vic when turning corners dizzies him.

They board Jason’s plane the next morning. Jason tucks Essie into a corner of the plane and commands her to sleep for the duration of the flight. Easy enough. 

Vic, however, is awake and not so easy to control, not yet. He hasn’t asked a question, not since he woke up from the couch and found new clothes beside him – sneakers, grey sweatpants, briefs, socks, and a baggy t-shirt, though notably…

“No binder?” Vic looked to Jason, standing over him with a predatory smirk.

“No, no binder.”

They haven’t spoken directly to each other since. Vic settles into his seat, shielding his chest from the lone flight attendant by crossing his arms in every direction and tugging the shirt away from his tits to create as much space as possible. 

As they take off, Jason slides his computer into Vic’s lap with a pair of earbuds. Vic’s cheeks burn red as he pops them into place. Jason taps the play button, and one of the pre-recorded, early inductions starts. It’s ideally played in a VR headset, but the spirals on the screen crossing back and forth seem to get the job done. He leaves Vic, docile, warm, appearingly compliant, until they begin their descent.

They deplane. Jason hands Essie off to the first handler he sees, with directions to get her comfortable in his office. They do so without question. Jason is relieved to be home. 

Vic follows at Jason’s heels, stumbling down the grey tiles and white, labyrinthian halls. People pass in lab coats, talking, laughing, making small talk about the weather. They act so mundane in a place Vic knows is so surreal. It’s not just lab coats, though – pale pink scrubs are making their way around them, everyone parting to Jason as he presses on. They turn past rooms of floor to ceiling windows as scientists (probably?) tinker with machinery, or mix unknown, clear chemicals in beakers.

Jason stops short, Vic jolting into his back. “You, Finley – is Amelia in?”

A gangly man in scrubs drags himself away from his clipboard. “Yeah, she’s in. Real bitch this morning, too.”

At that, Jason grins. “Thank you, Finley.”

Finley grunts.

They pass a series of closed doors until they come to the end, a placard to the side announcing the office of a Dr. Amelia McCarthy, and a slim glass pane in the center giving way to a brunette woman bent over her computer and gnawing on the straw of her massive water bottle.

Jason raps his knuckles against the wood, but doesn’t wait before swinging in. “Amelia! How’ve you been? Back from my little trip with a new prospect, if you don’t mind.”

Amelia’s head snaps to attention, the straw dangling from the corner of her mouth. “Jason, h-hey. Yeah? What’ve you got for me?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that just yet. Tell me how you’re doing! You hold down the fort okay while I was gone?”

Amelia huffs, tucking a scraggly strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been… fine. I think I’m getting a cold, I don’t know. I’m just, like, really dehydrated. A little distracted. So, what’s going on? Something new with EMT299? Need some tests, or, uh, something with her milk again?” She gulps. Visibly.

“No, Essie’s all good. She’s just resting for now. Unless you missed her? You want me to have her brought down?” He beams a winning smile.

She rolls her shoulders. “No, don’t bother her, let her recharge. I’m, I’m sure she needs it. Probably not even ready to go again, right?”

Jason pauses, tilting his head from side to side. Taking his time with his answer. “Well, she could probably go again. I think I milked her, what, twice this morning? Thick, creamy loads, too. Lots of product. Just absolutely drowning in it. She’s a real success story.”

Amelia nods along, flinching. “Sure. I bet. I bet, um, pretty sweet, too?”

“Oh, sure. Just as sweet as ever. You know, really delicate flavor. Warm, but refreshing. Just the perfect balance.”

“Uh…uh-huh.”

“Anyway! This is our newest recruit. Why don’t you say hi, Vic?”

And Jason steps aside, taking Vic by the shoulder and pushing him into the center of the room. He looks over the doctor, the dark circles under her eyes and the pale sheen to her skin, and tries to take a step back.

Jason prods him a step closer. “Now, now, don’t be shy. You sure weren’t this weekend, huh, boy?”

And Amelia snaps into focus, her desperate thirst momentarily not a priority. She asks, “Boy?”

Vic nods. “I’m trans. I’m on testosterone. Uh, point-five milliliters every other week. I don’t know if that’s a problem, or…”

“No, not a problem. A new challenge, but that’s what I like about this job.” Amelia appraises him with her eyes, circling the bulges of his chest and the absence between his legs.

“No surgeries?”

“No. Can’t afford them. Er, I guess, couldn’t afford them before.”

“And did you want them?” Amelia pushes her laptop to the wayside, straightening out the white paper sheet over her exam table. She pats the end for Vic to hop up. He looks to Jason, and moves only when he’s given a nod. Amelia’s subconscious files that information away without a second thought, without passing judgment.

“Um, yes and no. I don’t really want bottom surgery. I’m comfortable enough with what I have. And I… I wasn’t really sure about top surgery.” Vic casts his glance at his shoes, and doesn’t meet the eyes of the room. 

Amelia turns to Jason as if Vic has disappeared. “You want me to run the regular set of tests?”

Jason nods. “Yeah, start with candor, maybe up the dose to three, see if that helps. I’m not sure if he’s more resistant than Essie was, but let’s go crazy. Get as much out of him as you can. He’s already told me a lot, but who’s to say how honest he’s been. Once that’s done, I want him in a pod, immediately. And don’t assign Tommy this time. Get anyone else. Got it?”

Amelia nods. “Yup, sure thing, boss. Oh, what was his OSS?”

Jason shrugs. “Travel version thinks it’s a five. Not sure how accurate it was though.”

“I’m sorry, you said five?”

“Is that a problem?”

A wave of compliance ebbs at Amelia’s edges. “No, of course not. But we’ll probably need a dose of four in that case.”

“Do whatever you have to. I trust you, Amy.” And the door falls shut behind Jason as he makes his way out.

Amelia turns to Vic warmly. “Alright. I’m going to get out a fresh set of charts for you. While I do that, why don’t you go ahead and read that vision chart for me?”

She points Vic to the far wall where a poster of tiny letters crawl down into little blobs that no human being could read. He squints and makes his best guess. “Uh, I see A, Z, D, F, R, O, and then maybe U–”

Vic yelps as one, two pricks hit his left upper arm. By the time he’s turned around, Amelia has dodged to his right.  “What was that?”

“What was what? Go on, keep reading.”

Vic looks back to the chart. “G, Q, W, I think an E? And–”

He cries out again as two additional jabs hit his other arm. “Seriously, what was that?”