A Certain Perception

Kyra had told me in the beginning to put myself completely in her hands, that she would do whatever she thought necessary to make the experience "more realistic, more pleasurable". It certainly had been that so far. The surgical procedures, artwork, piercings, hair and cosmetic artistry had made me beautiful - in a distinctly sleazy way. Months of being "pickled" by intensive hormone therapy had filled me out to a D-cup bustline, with hips and tush to match. My whole body was soft, smooth, and supple to the touch. My male appendage had shrunken to a tiny little nub. My balls... well, I could barely find them anymore.

I had mixed emotions about that. I didn't really miss them, and my diminished genitalia certainly made my new identity more convincing to everyone - including myself. My well-trained shemale pussy tingled in anticipation of being filled by a big, fat cock. When we finally decided the thrill of it was gone, it would take a long time for 'Michael' to return. I wasn't ready to think about that just yet. I was having the time of my life.

One evening, we were snuggled up together on the sofa, indulging in one of our favorite mutual delights; admiring photos of our favorite busty female porn stars. In addition to purchasing adult magazines and videos, we kept several scrapbooks filled with color printouts of JPEGs we had downloaded from the Internet. We were browsing one of those notebooks at that moment, checking out a new batch of JPEGs Kyra had just printed. In spite of my prominent curves, I looked positively flat compared to some of our favorite foxes. Secretly, I was... envious.

"You know, Baby, you would really look good if you were...bustier."

Oh, God, did that thought make me wet! I looked at the print of the current object of our mutual affection, held pristinely within its protective plastic sleeve. 'Endowed' didn't begin to describe her amazing pulchritude. That it was so obviously, blatantly, gloriouslyfake made it all the more alluring to Kyra and me. I looked back at my kinky lover.

"You thin' so? Gee, I dunno. I mean, yeah, I loves th' look, but... I mean, should we?"

She jabbed me playfully in the ribs with her elbow.

"Don't even go there with that 'should we' crap. Youknow you would love it. I've been really good about making your fantasy come true, giving you what you have always wanted. This is somethingI want. You know I adore girls like these. I want the real thing, right here next to me - to ogle, fondle, drool over. Remember, you put yourselfcompletely in my hands. I have decided; youneed a bust like this to really understand what it is to be a slut. I told you I was going to make you thebiggest damn ho' in the city, didn't I? My cunt is dripping already!"

Mine too. I had a vague uneasiness I had to put to words.

"Wud we stil' b' able t' go out together? I mean, even if I's only has double-D's, I's still gonna be a real sight. Wud'n' you feel uncomf'table bein' seen wit me? Wud'n' people stare?"

She started laughing - and kept laughing until big, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She finally composed herself sufficiently to utter a coherent reply.

"Only double-D's, huh? I like the way you think. Actually, I had something a littlebigger in mind. As for people staring, that's exactly the point, isn't it? Think about how people stare at younow. I know you are living for it. Youwant to be admired, lusted for. That is what being a slut is all about. Don't youdare worry about me being 'uncomfortable' about being seen with you. Weren't you listening to me a moment ago? Ilove big titties. I only wish I could get them for myself, but that just wouldn't be compatible with a career in Business. The thought of makingyou the big-boobed bimbo of my dreams is making mecream. So, I'll call Bruce - Dr. Jensen - in the morning. Just think of it as 'one small step for Man' - and one giant leap for me!"

Here we go again with the damn consent forms! There seemed to betwice as many this time. I really, really hated this part. This time, I just signed the damn things as quickly as Kyra and Diane, the office manager, handed them to me. There -done! Then, there was the procedure itself. Dr. Jensen told me what to expect. The incisions would be barely noticeable after they healed (the bags would be empty when inserted, then filled once they were in place), but he would have to hollow out some pretty big pockets under my chest muscle to accommodate implants that size (what size, dammit? I still didn't know). Due to the extreme nature of my implant surgery, Dr. Jensen preferred I receive a general anesthetic. I knew him well enough by that time to trust his judgment. What the Hell; I had already signedthat consent form. He really was an attractive man. Maybe....

I awoke in the recovery room, expecting what the doctor had foretold. I knew there would be a stout, long-line surgical bra fastened around my chest. I knew Kyra had chosen something big, butthis.... My new boobies tented the sheet like twin pyramids, blocking my view of the lower half of my body. I hadn't counted on the soreness in my waist and tush. Although I could not see it, my waist felt like it was tightly corseted. My hips and ass burned. Even my throat was sore. For all the discomfort I was feeling from neck to toes, I swore there was a dildo in my love nest, filling me beyond full! I couldn't move. I couldfeel, but my arms, legs, and torso would not so much as twitch. That was scary. Had something gone wrong?

Kyra was leaning over me, holding my hand. She smiled and was quick with her response.

"Hi, Baby. Don't try to talk. I had Bruce do a little work on your vocal chords to make you sound more feminine. He says you may have to work with a vocal coach to get full function back. In the meantime, you should rest your voice and let it heal.

"As far as the rest of you... everything wentperfectly. With your new bigger boobies, we thought you needed a little 'enhancement' in other places to heighten the effect. You got implants in your tush, too; the biggest available. I had him remove a pair of ribs and suction out the remaining fat around your waist. He injected your hips with a new inert dermaplast material that filled them out a lot. You are going to have a killer 'hourglass figure' and a big, beautiful bubble butt, Baby! The orthopedic team worked on your feet and ankles, too. When the casts come off, high heels won't bother you ever again. We thought you would like that. In fact, I think you will loveall the results. I know I will!

"There are a couple of post-op complications I have to discuss with you. No, you are not paralyzed. You have had so many procedures done at once, they have to keep you on a powerful muscle relaxer for a while to make certain you don't move the wrong way and accidentally rip something open internally. That's why you can't move. It's for your own good, Sweetie. Of course, that hasn't robbed you of sensation, has it?

"That brings me to the best part. You have already felt the fullness in your love nest, haven't you? Well, it turns out they have to keep you that way after the surgery on your tush. They don't want to risk scar tissue forming around your rectum and strangling it off. Normally, they would just use a surgical stent. I pulled a few strings with Dr. Jensen and got him to use something a whole lot better. Wait 'til you feelthis."

Kyra pressed a button on a small remote-control device. The fullness in my love nest began vibrating. Then, it started to move! It plunged deeply into me, then withdrew, in and out, in and out, again, and again, and again! I would have gasped - if I had been able to. My lover smiled bemusedly as she beheld the glazed-over look in my eyes.

"I thought you might like that. We will just keep that our little secret for now. You will have to stay in the hospital a few days, so they can be certain everything is healing the way it should. Then you will spend the rest of your recovery time in bed at home. But that won't be so bad, will it? Just think; you will be lying there, all day and all night, getting fucked and feeling every delicious thrust. Now, just lie back and relax. The nurse is going to give you a shot that will make you feelreal good."

They kept me on a nice, dreamy Demerol high, oblivious to everything, for my entire stay in the hospital. I was vaguely aware of Kyra being with me the day of my surgery until visiting hours ended. She returned the next morning, arriving around the same time Dr. Jensen checked in on his morning rounds. She brought the CD player and my subliminal learning disks with her. Dr. Jensen had given her permission to use the technique as a further aid to help me pass the time and take my mind off any discomfort I might feel.

She slipped the headphones over my head, turned on the player, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Then, unseen by any of the nursing staff, she activated the phallus inside me. I sensed, rather than heard, the soft drone of a Hip-Hop beat and Kyra's voice in my head. It was like she was there 24/7, whispering in my ear, comforting me. Her voice spoke to me in that warm, lazy, comfortable dialect that seemed so natural to me now. I responded in my head in that same comforting patter. All the while, that huge, wonderful rubber cock plunged deeply into me over and over....

While I was recuperating at home, my lover made sure I was as comfortable as possible. Dr. Jensen was generous with his prescription for Demerol tablets. Kyra kept me high on the powerful pain-killer to keep the pain under control and make the time pass quickly. She was really apologetic that she had to leave me alone in the evening, but shehad to go to school. With notepad and paper, I assented graciously, admonishing her to go to class and not worry about me. She made sure I was really well-medicated before she left. She professed I would not even be aware of her absence.

Sure enough, in my drug-fueled stupor, I couldn't tell when she left - nor when she returned. I was barely aware of her slipping the headphones over my head, activating the dildo, and softly kissing me before she slipped out the bedroom door. There were times I would wake up early in the morning, thinking I heard the sound of her just coming in the front door, as though she had been gone all night. Then, she would be right there at my side, rested, cheerful and glowing all over. I dismissed my misgivings as drug-induced hallucinations.

There were times, in-between doses of drugs, when I was really trippin' that she had had all those additional procedures done without so much as asking me about it. If I had been able to speak, I probably would have 'read' her up one side and down the other. Yes, she had assured me we could reverse it all when we decided it was time for 'Michael' to return, but all this? I mean, sure, I was thrilled with 'all this', but....

I stewed with it until the casts and bandages came off. The post-surgical bruising and swelling had largely faded, and I was able to see myself - the new me - for the first time. My new titties werehuge! My full, rounded hips and firm prominent tush were just as gorgeous. I now had the proverbial 'hand-span waist'. My feet had been narrowed and shaped into high, curved arches, perfectly suited to wear my highest heels. I felt comfortable all day gliding around in my stiletto stilts. It never occurred to me to wear anything else anymore. That was probably just as well; I was no longer physically able to wear flats or walk barefoot.

I still hurt - a powerful, all-over ache, with tremors and sweats I couldn't pin down to any particular place or cause. All of that made me really bitchy. Kyra said that was an unfortunate consequence of the kind of radical surgery I had undergone and would last for quite a while. The doctor had offered to extend my prescription for meds and she suggested I take him up on it until I had fully recovered and the pain stopped. I did. The symptoms went away almost immediately! With Kyra's understanding and encouragement, I maintained a nice, comfortable high most of the time. I had to medicate myself two or three times a day, but it certainly kept the aches and pains away - and then some!

I was amazed at how...plastic-looking I had become. I was easily equal to, if not better than, even the bustiest, most provocative of our porn idols. My body measured 42-24-38 without corseting. My bustline was a full eight inches larger than my ribcage. Even with minimal additional makeup, my tightened, refined face was that of "Slut Barbie". Taken as a whole, I had become a walking wet dream, the kind of ultimate bimbo my girlfriend and I - and more men than would ever admit - lusted for.

Kyra teasingly pointed out my name - Gigi - was now "truth in advertising", in light of my prodigious pulchritude. She observed out loud it would now be obvious to everyone I had been altered,made to look like that, - and for only one possible purpose. "I hope you like the 'new you' as much as I do, Sugar," she cooed. "You won'tever be able to hide what you are now. You have become that slut you have always dreamed about." I warmed to that thought as never before. Staring at - lusting for - myself in the mirror, I couldn't even visualize the man I had once been, or that I had been a man at all. It didn't even faze me that my shrunken little balls, so difficult to find before my surgery, seemed to have disappeared altogether....

My voice was a real trial. Idid have to work with a speech therapist. In fact, I had to learn to speak all over again. Kyra found a specialist - a Black woman with impressive credentials for working with film actresses to perfect dialects for their movie roles. Keisha may have had a Masters Degree in Speech Pathology, but she came from the streets and wasn't ashamed of it. She relished the assignment Kyra had given her and threw herself into it with all her passion. It took weeks and she worked me hard.

To my delight, she coached me to speak only that slow, lazy dialect we both knew so well. In fact, that was all we spoke in our sessions together. When she had finished with me, my voice was nothing like it had been; higher by more than a full octave, hushed, breathy (you try resonating when a corset is crushing your abdomen!), giggly, almost child-like. When I heard my practice tapes, I thought for all the world I was listening to Marilyn Monroe talkin' trash, like a good little ho'. My lover was thrilled.

"That is so you, Gigi! It is the perfect compliment to your new look. You are such a bimbo now. I justadore the 'new you'! Don't you just adore it, too?"

I had to admit; I did. If I had been able to get hard, I would have. Of course, Iwas hard; my nipples were constantly erect now, fully a half-inch long. Kyra took me shopping again - this time for an extensive, custom-made wardrobe of slutwear that screamed: "throw me up against the wall and fuck meright now!" The fashions I wore were designed to reveal, not conceal my big titties, erect nipples, lush, rounded tush. Long, shapely legs, piercings, and body art to maximum effect. I, in turn, was proud to flaunt my considerable charms. I caused near-riots wherever we went. Kyra made the most of her little 'fucktoy', too. Our sex life was better than ever.

Then, it stopped. Kyra had begun a new school term and was taking a full course load. She was gone almost every evening. So was I. She insisted I go out, make friends, have a good time, and get better known around town. I didn't know how I could get better known at the clubs we frequented, but assented readily. The answer to my question came quickly. Kyra began dropping me off at different clubs than we had gone to before. These clubs were Uptown, instead of the trendy nightlife district we had frequented in the past. The mixed crowds were gone; the clientele at these clubs was mostly Black. There were a few white girls, but rarely any whitemen. Still, I loved the heavy Hip-Hop and Rap mixes. I was an immediate sensation with all the men, although there was some initial frostiness from the other bitches. When they realized my attitude and manner of speech were reallyme, not just some suburban-MTV-wannabe pose like Carson Daley, I began to feel more welcome.

Baby, did I ever make a name for myself on that scene! Everyone knew me as Gigi, the big-boobed midnight angel of the bathroom stall, dark hallway, back seat, or alley out back. I danced real hard, up on a riser where everyone could - and did - see me. There was never a shortage of helping hands to get me down from my perch. Of course, those helping hands helped themselves to more than a casual feel of my spectacular body - not that I dissuaded them at all. Nor was there a shortage of horny guys who wanted to go someplace quiet and "party." Ecstasy was easy to come by. I loved the feeling of 'rolling' 'til dawn, with men's hands caressing my body, touching all the right places that the drug and mood rendered hyper-sensitive. There were so many men, I couldn't remember all the faces, let alone the names. I was getting off a dozen times a night or more. I was getting THEM off in quarts. I wanted to make Kyra proud of her little fucktoy.

After more than a month of no sex with Kyra, I was getting nervous that she might be having second thoughts about the direction our relationship had been taking. A few more days passed and I decided to bring up the subject.

"Baby, iz sumpin' wrong?" I asked.

"No, why? What's up?" she replied.

"Well, iz jes tha' we hasn' ... you know ... for awhile," I stammered out.

She got this coy look and feigned ignorance.

"We haven't what, Baby?"

"We hasn' had sex fo' weeks and I wuz worried y'all might be turned off or sumpin' like that."

I was nervous about what her response might be. She gave me a long passionate kiss gently massaging my clitty the way she used to do.

"Now, whatever would make you think a thing like that? I already told you Iadore the way you have turned out - and intend to prove it to you. You remember what this Friday is, don't you?"

"Fo' sho'. Iz our annivers'ry. We been t'gether one ho' year. Iz my birfday, too. I'll be a twen'-two-year-old bouncin' bimbo babe."

"You are so funny. No wonder I love you so much. Now, I'm gonna keep you away from the boys for the rest of the week. I want you really horny for Friday because I have a surprise for you."

I was getting aroused as she groped my ass and ran her tongue up the side of my neck.

"Wha's th' s'prise?"

She whispered, "If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Just know it's going to be the wildest, most exciting experience of your life. Now, no partying at the clubs, no sneaking out to visit one or another of your 'boyfriends' - and no masturbating. Promise?"

I nodded in agreement.

By the time Friday came, I was so horny I couldn't stand it. Kyra dodged my questions all day, building the tension and relishing my ever-increasing anguish. Around 5:30 PM, she hustled me out to the car without the slightest warning.

"Let's go, Sweetie. You have an appointment at the salon at Six."

"What's th' rush? Th' salon closes at eight on Fridays!"

She grinned cattily.

"Not tonight. This is the first part of your birthday surprise. Gayle is closing the salon early. She and the girls will be giving you a private "evening of beauty" to get you ready for what I have planned next. I'm so excited, I could burst!"

"But I's not dressed or nuthin'. I don' even has my purse."

She gave me the once-over, noting my long-sleeved, deeply-plunging, four-way stretch purple spandex micro-dress and matching calfskin pumps and smiled.