babydoll

The festival lights pulsed like a heartbeat, bass thumping through your chest, the air thick with smoke and spilled drinks. You’d already lost count of how many pink cocktails you’d downed—sweet, syrupy things that made your head swim and your hips sway on their own. Your tiny glittery skirt rode up every time you danced, the crop top barely containing your heavy tits, piercings glinting whenever someone’s phone flashlight swept over you. You felt cute. You felt untouchable.

A group of guys circled closer. Tall, loud, smelling like cologne and sweat. One of them pressed a fresh drink into your hand without asking. “You look thirsty, babe,” he grinned. You laughed, too fuzzy to question it, and took a long sip. The world tilted a little more.

Hands started wandering. First just a brush against your waist while you danced, then fingers curling around your hip, pulling you back against a hard chest. You giggled, swatted half-heartedly. “Heyyy, personal space,” you slurred, but it came out more playful than serious. Another hand slid up your thigh under the skirt, rough fingertips grazing the edge of your thong. You squirmed, confused, brain lagging. “Wait—what are you…?” The words dissolved into a hazy laugh. Too drunk. Too high. Too warm.

They didn’t stop.

Someone tugged your top down, exposing one pierced nipple to the flashing lights. A mouth closed over it—hot, wet, sucking hard. You gasped, head lolling back against a shoulder. Part of you knew you should push away, scream, run. But the bass was so loud, the lights so pretty, and the ache between your legs was suddenly screaming louder than any alarm bell in your head.

Your body betrayed you first.

Your hips rolled back instinctively, grinding against the thick bulge pressing into your ass. A low, needy whimper slipped out before you could catch it. The guy behind you chuckled, dark and satisfied. “There she is,” he muttered, fingers slipping under your thong, finding you already soaked. “Knew you were a little slut under all that.”

You tried to form a protest, tried to say something sassy, something sharp—but it came out as a breathy moan when two thick fingers plunged inside you without warning. Your knees buckled. Someone caught you, held you upright while another hand yanked your skirt up around your waist. Cool night air hit your dripping cunt, then hot breath, then a tongue—flat, greedy licks that made your eyes roll.

You were still mumbling “wait… guys… I shouldn’t…” even as your thighs spread wider on their own. Even as you arched into the mouth devouring you. Even as rough hands pinched your nipples and tugged the piercings until you cried out—half pain, half bliss.

The first cock pushed against your entrance while you were still shaking from the tongue. No condom. No warning. Just a slow, stretching burn as he sank in deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream that turned into a slutty, broken moan the second he bottomed out. “Fuck—tight little festival whore,” he groaned, starting to thrust.

You stopped fighting.

Your hands reached back, clutching at shoulders, hair, anything to hold on while they took turns. One after another. Mouths on your tits, fingers in your hair, cocks in your cunt, your ass, your throat. You gagged, drooled, moaned around them like it was the only thing that made sense anymore.

Somewhere in the haze you heard yourself whimpering “more… please… use me…” between thrusts. The confused, dismissive girl who’d laughed off wandering hands was gone. Only the dripping, cock-hungry slut remained, hips rocking back to meet every brutal stroke, begging with her body when words failed.

By the time the last one finished inside you, your legs wouldn’t hold you. Cum leaked down your thighs, mixing with your own wetness. Your makeup was ruined, skirt twisted, top hanging off one shoulder. Someone tucked a crumpled bill into your shirt like a tip.

You stumbled toward the bathroom on shaky legs, still giggling dazedly, still dripping, still high as fuck.

Memory Lapse. Lifting her ponytail, the technician plugs a cord into the base of her skull. “Try to relax, okay? I’m just going to start by indexing your memories.” The girl fidgets in her chair, nervous about the invasive procedure. She tries to make small talk as he scans through everything she remembers of her childhood. “So, uh, who usually gets this done?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised. Sure, people use it to forget traumatic events. The majority are contractors. Corpo types fulfilling their NDAs.” The technician’s eyes flicker as he watches her teenage years fast forward. His patient squirms, all too familiar with what comes next. He watches her birthday party through her memories. The group of men holding her down, the smell of stale synthetic alcohol as they each force their way inside of her.

He’s seen it all. Keeping his bedside manner is no issue. A calming, sympathetic smile. “Is that what you’d like to have removed?” She bites her tongue, scared to ask. All the girl can muster is a shake of her head. “No? Something else?” Looking the technician dead in the eyes, she speaks.

“Everything else.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “You want me to remove… all of your memories… except for that one…?” Her nails dig into the chair. She gets defensive. “If you have a problem with that, I can go somewhere else!” He sighs. “It’s your decision. But I can’t remove everything at once. It’ll take a lot of sessions.” The girl relaxes. Still feisty, she huffs at the technician. “Well, get started then.”

Checking over the rude woman’s memories one more time, he configures his program. “I’m going to leave some basic stuff until the very end. How to walk, speak, eat, use transit, things like that. We’ll start with the broad strokes, and refine it from there.” She leans back in the chair. “When you wake up, you’ll feel like it was just a dream…”

The patient talks in her sleep. A common side effect of the procedure. Incoherent ramblings mixed with deep secrets. When he erases a piece, she stops and stutters and starts again. The girl is limp and dazed as he finishes their first session. He unplugs the cord from the back of her head and rests his hand on her shoulder.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. She stares up at him. “You’re a memory technician… I don’t remember your name…” The man smiles and nods. “Okay, good. What day is it?” The girl looks down at his feet. “I… don’t know…” He smiles again. “Perfect. Looks like our procedure went well. Come back here tomorrow.”

A rare trickle of sunlight drifts through the smog. Looking out from the four-hundredth floor window, the technician watches the light crawl across the sprawling city off into the horizon. His patient is late. When she stumbles into his office, she seems lost and confused. “Everything alright?” He asks, steadying the swaying girl.

“Yeah… I just, uh, forgot how to pay for the train… someone had to teach me.” The man strokes her back. “You forgot how to pay for things? How are you going to pay me for my work, then?” She looks confused. He grips the back of her neck. “Here, get down on your knees. You can pay up front.” Sinking to the ground, the girl opens her mouth. She remembers what she needs to.

Taking his cock in her throat, she bobs her head slowly. The technician holds her ponytail and pushes himself deep. Choking and sucking and trying to breathe through her nose, a long strand of drool escapes her lips and down the front of her shirt. “I can delete this for you too.” He grins as he facefucks her. Slipping his cock out from her open mouth, she jacks him off with both hands. “Uh… no… I’ll keep this…”

Seated in her chair, the man plugs the cord back into her head. Her face is covered in his cum. Loading up the program, he sits down next to her. “We have a small problem. You need at least some memories. I can’t take out more until you make some more.” A flash of her old personality comes through in an impatient huff. “That’ll take too long, is there something else you can do?”

“In theory… I can replace them. I have old ones saved from other people. You’ll think they’re yours.” The girl touches her face, feeling the sticky mess he left on her. “…what kind of memories are they…?” He puts his hand on her thigh. “I’ve got some pretty bad ones. Really messed up stuff. Would you like those?” She lays her hand on his. “…yeah…”

Unconscious, the girl twitches in the chair. Her mouth hangs open, saliva and cum running down from the corner of her lips. The technician uploads a personal selection of memories. Once forgotten, they find new life in the young girl’s mind. Her body convulses as he inserts a particularly vile one. He puts his hand down her pants as the program deletes more of her old life.

She’s almost two hours late for her next session. The man waits, hoping she’ll show. When the girl does, her airy expression is almost blank. “What happened to you?” He asks, looking at her ripped clothes under her jacket. “Some guy used me, just normal stuff.” The young lady responds with a giggle. Her panties are missing and her shirt is hanging on by a thread. The technician feels a pang of jealousy.

Groping her tits, he guides the girl to her chair. A dildo sits on the seat, waiting for her. “I’m worried about you. I’m going to microchip you, so I can keep track of where you are. Know you’re safe.” She doesn’t really understand. “Uh, yeah, whatever.” Annoyed, the technician guides her pussy onto the thick dildo. “Looks like you’re still a bit of a brat. Hopefully I can get rid of that this session.”

The girl passes out as the program starts to run. A subdermal injection lets him see her location at any time. He listens to her mumbling as more of her mundane memories are removed. The man runs his hand over her smooth, full pussy as he decides on what to replace them with. A few years from a sex worker at a cheap brothel will suffice. She lets out a soft moan as she remembers one of her regulars taking out his frustrations on her.

Staring out the window, she looks completely lost. “Do you remember me?” He asks, resting his hand on her ass. “Uh… you… you’ve been helping me?” The technician shrugs. “Close enough. You still need to pay.” She remembers that. Bending over at the waist, the girl grinds her bum into his crotch. Unbuckling his belt, he rubs the head of his cock against her bare pussy before lifting it a bit higher.

A grunt and he pushes his cock halfway into her ass. Thinking back across her sexual history, the technician realizes he’s the first to take her there. She’d remember things differently now, but he knew the truth. Working himself deeper, the girl gasps. “…thank you…” Her voice is a breathless, ragged whisper. His cock twitches inside of her tight hole. “…thank you for helping me…”

Grabbing her hips, the technician thrusts hard into his patient. She squeals and giggles. It’s normal for her, now. Pressing her hands against the glass, she pushes back into him. “…thank you thank you thank you…” Gripping onto her ponytail, he pulls her head back towards him. Kissing her neck, groping her tits, fucking her ass. The feral technician ruts into her. “So good…”

“…I’m good…” Her ditzy smile makes his cock ache. A smack on her bare tits makes her laugh. It’s infectious. Overcome with zeal, he laughs with her. A careful push to the floor and he mounts her bum. Driving all his weight into the helpless girl, she keeps her hips high so he can force himself all the way inside.

“Squeeze tight.” He orders. She responds immediately, clenching her ass around his cock. His hand presses against the plug on the back of her head. The other hand pushes her cheeks open wider. “Squeeze tighter.” The technician orders again. She obeys. Her stupid smile glistens in the fading light from the window. “More, you dumb slut.” Thrusting harder and faster, he finishes deep in her bum.

“…thank you…” The girl mumbles as they lie together on the floor. Light pollution fills the small office. “What do I do now…?” Easing himself out of her, the man stands. “Back to the chair for you. We have more work to do.”

She stumbles as he guides her back to her seat. He makes her sit her ass on the dildo. The girl lets out a sigh of relief as it pushes inside of her. The technician plugs in the cord. A quick search of his desk and he returns with a vibrator. “Spread your legs.” He grunts. She opens them wide, letting her calves hang off the armrests. Pushing the toy inside, the girl’s face lights up as he turns it on.

“I thought we were done for the day.” She rubs her clit as he boots up the program. “Not yet. I need to delete something. And add a little more.” The girl smiles at him and plays with her nipples. “Can we fuck again?” He codes a special memory, something deep. “After. We’ll do this first.”

“But I wanna fuck now… fuck my ass like that again… c’mon…” Her voice fades as he sends her into unconsciousness. “Still a brat.” The technician mumbles to himself. “Why can I not get rid of that.” He searches her memory. Finding his target, he deletes it quickly. A few moments later and he uploads his final replacement. The vibrator hums as he waits for the transfer to complete.

The girl stirs again. He stands over her in the dark office. As soon as she wakes, she starts to rub. Squeezing her cheeks, the man forces her to look up at him.

“Do you remember me?”

The girl bursts into laughter. “Of course I remember you!” Her hips rock up and down, working the dildo in and out of her ass.

“I belong to you!”

The technician grins. He kisses her. She moans and rubs and grinds and lets his tongue play with hers. “Can we fuck now? Please? Fuck your property? Really rough. Fuck me up. Please?” A gentle hand holds her by the ponytail and leads her off the chair. “Not yet. I’m going to take you home first.”  The girl pouts. “Ugh… Wanna get fucked right now…” He lets out a defeated sigh. “Still a little bratty, I guess.”

Kneeling on the floor, she tries to suck his cock. He fends off the mindless girl. “Home first. Then I’ll ruin you.” She looks confused. “I don’t remember home.” The technician unplugs the cord. “You haven’t been there before. It’s your new home.” The girl nuzzles her face into his crotch. “And that’s where I get fucked?” He quickly cleans up the mess she left on the chair. “Yes.”

“One last thing. Walk over there and get your jacket.” He points to her clothes lying near the door. The girl almost tries to stand. Like a newborn fawn, she crawls to the jacket. “Why did you crawl? Why didn’t you walk?” He asks, following behind her closely. “I dunno how to do that… can we fuck…?” The technician smiles and helps her cover up.

“Good girl. Let’s take you home.”

You’re the first female in your family to graduate from an academic institution. Of course, it’s not a boy school, so you didn’t learn science or math. You learned what most women know innately, but don’t have the right words to express it. Females lack the intelligence to describe their experience.

Which is why your graduation speech was written for you by a man, the Dean of the school cheekily but accurately known as Bitch University. As top in your class, the graduation speech falls on you.

You see your family in the audience when you approach the podium. Your mother sandwiched between your father in brother. Both men are wearing suits, while your mother is in tights and a waist corset. It doesn’t cover her chest, so her tits are bare, just like yours. Just like every female in the audience.

You take your place behind the podium. It momentarily hides your scandalous graduation outfit—six inch heels, fishnet stockings, and a waist-trimming corset that pushes your naked tits out. It’s good to leave the details for the audience’s imagination. For now.

You clear your throat and begin reading your cards. “Men and bitches,” you proclaim. “Thank you for attending as we celebrate the passing of females into adulthood. This time is especially important in a woman’s life and we are honored to have you join us.”

You glance back at the Dean, standing behind the stage side curtains, and he smiles encouragingly. “My time at university taught me many things,” you continue, your voice loud and clear. “I learned the difference between men and females, and why I as a woman am destined to serve and obey.” Lots of clapping from the audience now. You swallow nervously, knowing what is coming.

“I learned that female bodies are evolutionary supplements to enable reproduction.” You stumble over some of the bigger words, in part because your nerves make your body shake. “Our wombs provide the means to create life, if we are able to earn a man’s desire.” Harder clapping now.

You step out from behind the podium so the audience can finally see the whole of your shame. Your fishnets are thigh high and your corset peaks dramatically near your navel, but you’re otherwise bare. You watch the men in the audience evaluate your naked womanhood and something twinges deep inside you.

You raise your voice to be heard over the clapping. “I, a female, speak on behalf of the class when I tell you that we are ready to enter society as cunts.” With the last word, your hand comes down hard to slap the flesh between your legs.

The audience oohs appreciatively. You see your brother pointing at you with one hand, his other on your mother’s tit, while he smirks and mutters something to your father. Your pussy twitches at your exposure, but you’ve learned that shame and public humiliation are the daily life of a woman.

Your voice trembles just a little as you continue. “As head of my class, I have the honor to be welcomed to womanhood by the Dean himself!” You throw an arm out dramatically just as the man himself strides from the side stage. “Men and cunts, please enjoy my bitching!”

The audience erupts in applause as the Dean waves to them and then strides purposefully toward you. Even while your body stiffens in anxiety, you turn to face him, spreading your legs to ensure your cunt is well exposed. You arch your back so your tits pop out further. This is one of many bitch poses you learned to entice men to use your body.

The Dean stops before you, then lifts one hand up to land on a tit. He grins to the audience. “It’s my pleasure to welcome the graduating class by breaking in our best student,” he announces. His eyes meet your father’s as if to reassure him that you’ll still be good sloppy seconds.

Then his attention is back on you. “Breeding position 4, darling. Face the audience.” You obey, your training now instinctual. You sink to your knees, lean forward on your elbows, and prop your cunt in the air. The audience hushes as if holding a collective breath.

The Dean circles around behind you and you hear the zipper on his pants. “This is what we train our students for,” he explains, then thrusts his cock in your breeding hole. Your eyes instinctively roll back in your head and you hear a few chuckles. A woman’s bitching face looks ridiculous.

The Dean starts fucking you methodically. “As I’m sure some of you will soon attest”—you can imagine him winking at your father—“the slut’s cocksleeve is tight and well-lubricated. Maximized for a man’s enjoyment.” You let your tongue loll out to emphasize his superiority as the fucker and your inferiority as the fucked.

“Now, bitch,” the Dean addresses you. “Tell our guests about your education while I seed your wet cunt.”

The sensation between your legs makes you dumb and hazy—bitch brain, your professors called it. You try your best anyways, while the Dean continues using your cumsleeve.

“I’m a bitch,” you announce loudly, your voice shaking a bit from the hard fucking. “Females are biologically designed to drain cock, like I’m doing now.” You see several people peering intently at the connection between the Dean’s cock and your wet hole.

“My classmates and I learned”—you gasp as the Dean smacks your ass hard—“to keep our cunts soaked and available for men’s use.” Your brother leans forward and stares at you intently, still absently milking your mother’s tit.

“I’m about to drain semen into my vagina,” you state, returning your brother’s gaze. “This is what it means to be a woman.” Your cunt clenches hard in shame at the smirk that passes over your brother’s face.

The clenching apparently worked for the Dean, as he starts fucking you harder. “The bitch is squeezing my cock to this,” he announces to more audience chuckles. “She’s been trained to cum when a man breeds her. Watch this.”

He cums inside you with a loud groan. Sure enough, your trained body kicks into overdrive and then you’re cumming on his cock, on stage, in front of everyone you know. You squeal loudly to make sure every man in the area knows your cunt is spasming on a pulsing cock.

you're tied and cuffed and gagged. The only movement you can manage is to push yourself back on the extra large silicone wolf dick inside of you.

It's early. Not many people are up, but soon, the sidewalks outside your window will be bustling, and they'll have the perfect view of your cunt, stretching obscenely around the knot as you fuck yourself.

Growing tits should be an indicator of intellectual inferiority. All that nutrients and energy that was supposed to go to your brain is now wasted making milk jugs for men to grope.