Book One: The Tubes of Fortune, at the Pink Light district

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I had chosen to go to the pink light district in the hopes of finding something fun. While the district itself is no fun, but rather up-tight and strict, there are a few interesting and novel establishments for me to explore.

My first choice, is the Tubes of fortune. The door is literally a wheel of fortune; but with a pink tube at the top, in place of the regular peg indicating the winning number. The wall and door are both a light pink, with a bright cerise contour.

As I enter, I notice that the floor is laid with pink Marble. Curiously enough, the details and decor is made out of lime stone. Just as the name of the district is suggesting, the local is indeed all in pink.

I see a pink girl in a red rubber outfit, behind a counter of glass and steel. Strangely enough, the counter is reminding me of a cafe, wherein sweets and baked goods would be showcased for sale. In this case; what I see is sets of glossy tubes for play.

On second thought, the girl does look as if she had been a twin of Pinkie. Aside from wearing a bright cerise lip-gloss, eye-shadow and nail-polish on her semi-square, inch long nails. While her hands are on the glass counter, I can’t see the palms of her hands, thus missing the highly sensitive touch-pads and suction-cups on the palms of her hands. A moment later, I notice how the tip of her bangs tentatively points at the mirror just under her hands, demonstratively showing exactly what I had failed to make out before.

The top she is wearing, goes from just under her head, and to the edge of her rib-cage; proudly showing off her bust and erect nipples. The skirt is fused to a pair of panties that will emphasize her assets, once the skirt is out of the way. See seems to be wearing a pair of hoof-boots, where the hooves had been coated with glistering black rubber to emphasize her hooves.

“Welcome to the Tubes of fortune!” the girl behind the counter coos, in an overly excited voice that could have been a little girl at hearth’s warming eve.

“Do I need a reservation, or do you have any openings right now?” I inquire, feeling a bit insecure in the setting I had just stepped into.

“Reservation? Here at the Tubes of fortune, you leave the reservations by the door! Opening? We pride ourselves in having openings, here at the Tubes of fortune! The question is; exactly what you are looking for; but alas, take door three!” she coos.

“Door three? Okay, I guess!” I respond, as I turn from the girl in order to walk to the door she had just indicated.

As I approach the door, I notice that it is a pink tinted metal door, a double sliding door of the type you may have for an elevator. By the side, I find a glistering black plaque with the outlines, resembling the right hand and fingers spread wide. I tentatively spread the fingers of my right hand and press the palm on the mark. While not knowing exactly what to expect, the doors instantly slide open with a whoosh of cool air. I step in and the doors quietly close shut behind my back.

Once the doors had closed behind me; I clearly hear a soothing, yet excitable tune on three tiny violins. It may be a curious choice; but I could still enjoy it, all the same.

“Welcome to the Tubes of fortune!” a voice exclaims, over the sounds of music in the rather limited space.

While the double doors are three feet wide; the room is an octagon, with a cylindrical core obscuring the other end. The steel walls had clearly been coated with inch thick, coarse, mate black rubber in order to mute the room to create a cozy atmosphere, just for me.

I feel a momentary hizz in my gut, while the room is slipping out of its original place, in order to traverse the distance to the level of my desires.

In shock, I realize I am basically walking on air, even if it is just an illusion. I feel my feet sink an inch down through the clear rubber membrane that is posing for a floor in the hall. While the floor does come out as a bit glossy, it is still coarse and grabby enough to hold me in place as I walk down the hall.

The wall looks as if laid with pink rubber tiles, just glistering in the light from below my feet. The ceiling is coated with mate, black rubber, with a pin-prick LED starskape overhead.

The hall is quiet, from the instant the doors behind me shut closed; until the door opens up before me on the other end. In the room, I can see another girl, as if she had either been a clone of the one downstairs, or her in the flesh.

“Welcome to the Tubes of fortune!” the girl coos.

“What ever she has in store for me, I am sure to enjoy it Royally!” I ponder.

“Right this way!” she continues; as she takes a step to the right, in order to make room for my entrance.

“Thank you; Miss.. Mistress.. !” I respond, as I follow her into the small room, serving as her dungeon.

Once inside, the doors close behind me. On the right; I notice a counter, exactly like the once at the entrance of the establishment. If I turn my back on the counter, I can clearly see the wardrobe, in which to hang my clothes for the duration of my visit at her dungeon.

“While you disrobe, I will pick your set of tubes!” she explains, in her girlishly excited voice.

“Oh, and my name is Pink Tubes; but just call me Pink, please!” she then adds, giggling like a little school-girl.

“Okay, Pink!” I respond, as I turn towards the wardrobe.

I pull my top up over my head, before I place it on the first hanger and leave it in the wardrobe for later extraction. From there, I slip my skirt down and leave it on the second hanger. My panties soon follows suit, hiding under the skirt.
Now I pull my shoes off of my feet, before I pull my socks of and slip them into my shoes right and left. I find myself entirely naked, as Pink is facing me after I had turned back towards her.

“I left a surprise gift, for you!” she coos, as I turn around to face her once more.

“Oh, thank you, Pink!” I respond.

I notice the glistering rubber tube in her hand. She reaches in between my legs and slip the tube into my rear orifice. I feel the clear rubber slide in, just before the tube plops and is firmly stuck in place. I had not been prepared for the insistent tightness of the river tube she had presented me with.

The tube had slipped in unhindered, with or against my permission and I had been utterly incapable of prevented the slippery rubber from entering me. The clear lubrication responsible for making my muscles tighten up around it and still relaxed enough to make it slip in is permanently glued to the surface of the tube.

“Please, explore the tube; before we continue!” she instructs me, with infinite eagerness.

I bend forwards, slightly; reaching my right hand towards the tube she just inserted. I feel the coarse rubber coating the orifice. As I slide my index finger over the surface, I realize it had slipped right in before I had actually intended for it to happen. As tight as I am, the finger slipped in

“”Please, explore your gift!” she instructs me, making me turn around to explore the interior of the wardrobe once more.

“A pair of ankle socks, with delicately sculpted details!” I point out, as I see the clear rubber toe socks before me.

I pick up the socks, right and left; slipping them on with great care, fearing I could ruin them.

“Gloves to match the socks?” I then continue, picking up the gloves, left and right; repeating the process of slipping them on.

While I focus on the gloves, she is slipping the vaginal tube in. Just like the anal tube, I am utterly incapable of preventing its entry; just as I am equally incapable of pushing it out, after the effect. I realize, the tube is plopping, just as I finish slipping the deliciously detailed gloves on.

While wearing the gloves, I have inch long, crystal clear, semi square nails; starting from just after the final joint and covering the entire tip of each of my fingers. Under the nail is the bright cerise and highly sensitive touch pad. She had also gifted me with silicon white suction cups covering the entire palm of each of my hands.

Looking down, I notice how the toe nails now are basic outlines on the tip of each toe.

“Would you explore your orchid, please!” she is cooing.

While the anal tube rendered me utterly incapable of climax, the vaginal is making my orchid slippery and wet; as if she had indeed glued on that special lubricant onto me. What I had not realized just yet, is that each tube also makes the orifice into a sculpted highly elastic rubber.

“Would you care, to try your new top on, please!” she coos, in excitement.

I pick the top she had placed in the wardrobe fore me, slipping it down and gives it a few tentative tugs in order to make sure it is on just right. I turn around, just in time to see her produce the final tube she had in mind for me, an oral one. It is after all the final orifice she had not slipped a tube into.

“I hope you like it!” she merely exclaims, as she is slipping the tube in between my lips.

I feel the clear rubber tube plop, before I had even realized she was inserting it in the first place.

“To warm you up, I want you to kiss my right nipple!” she points out.

“Ooh!” I gasp, in excitement, kissing the tip of the large nipple.

“Is she playing me, acting a part; does she truly ask me to do it, enjoying what I do for her in turn?” I ponder, momentarily fearing what is to come next.

The nipple is large, huge; and the surface is coarse and grabby under my soaking wet and slippery lips. I press my lips firmly onto her nipple, only to find myself parting my lips and the nipple slipping inside. I gulp and suck in, only to be rewarded with a firm squirt of thick juicy milk into my mouth. The effect is causing me to suck in once more, granting me a renewed squirt.

I feel the slippery milk flow down my throat, after only a handful of squirts. My face goes hot, as I realize what I am doing. While she had incited me, I had never consciously pushed this far; as much as I find myself excited by it and enjoy the taste of her.

“I thought so!” she merely coos, pushing me forwards to continue a moment longer.

“If you would not mind; your nibbles are screaming for attention!” she points out, matter of fact.

Of course she did not break character, if she was indeed playing a game. Even as she is speaking matter of fact, she does so with the utter abundance of excitement, I had grown to expect from her.

“Oh, of course!” I respond, once I manage to pull myself back from her nipple.

The rubber coating of my mouth, from the outer rim of my lips and all the way down my throat is soaking wet with the thick lubricating gel. I feel my lips contract around the nipple as I pull back; more so, than I consciously willed them to. The more I am pulling back, the stronger I feel my lips and mouth contract around the last of the nipple between my lips.

She carefully places a wet kiss on the tip of my right nipple; before she is pressing forwards and suckle just as firmly as I had, and as I had hoed she would. One, twice, thrice she is rewarded with a squirt of hot milk.

I realized, that she is pulling back from my nipple; only to place a kiss on my left nipple and repeat the process. Only this time, after the third squirt, she bit down; nibble thrice.

“Oooh!” I coo inwardly, as my lips contract and stay tightly shot; as I realize that she had managed to tease me to enjoy even this.

She pulls back, and looks me deeply in the eye.

“On all fours!” she coos, inciting me to yet new heights of excitement.

“Spread your fingers wide, and give my right hoof the attention it deserves!” she continues.

I part my lips just enough, as I place my lips on the middle of the hoof as she had instructed me. While I do, I momentarily feel her left hoof pressing down the back of my hand. I do not realize, what she had just done; before it was too late. I soon find her hoof on the other hand, repeating the process. I continue, lapping the surface of her hoof.

Of course I had noticed that the gloves gave me suction cups; but it had never occurred to me, just what these could do for and against me. Just as glue could never be strong enough to hold skin unless it was harmful in the first place; suction cups of this nature and size could never hold anything of my size and strength down. Not to say that I am particularly strong.

I start to feel wet, after a moment; and soaking wet, before she felt her hoof had enjoyed the deserved attention. Once she is pulling the hoof out from under my face, I had coated the entire hard surface with my saliva.

She did not say a word, or give any sign as to what she wanted me to do. She merely left me hanging. After a moment, I tentatively try to lift my right hand from the floor, effectively drawing a blank, as I realize that the palm of my hand is stuck on the smooth rubber floor. While I try to pull my left hand up, the result is exactly the same. I may try to pull and tug, harder; yet the result is exactly the same, both the palms of my hands are still where she had indicated for me to place them before I was licking her hoof.

“Excellent, just excellent!” she merely exclaims, as she returns.

Only this time, she had replaced the skirt with a pair of panties. While her hips look as if she had been nude, I notice what had changed. She had sprouted what could only pass for a seven inch long penis; with a large, smooth head. Her penis clearly shows of its clear rubber coating. While the rubber may still be smooth along the shaft, and coarse and grabby on the head; it is coated with a thick juicy and deliciously slippery lubricant.

“I have your reward, right here!” she merely indicates.

On her command, I pull myself up from the floor and lift my head as high as I possibly could; considering that my hands still could not come off of the floor as much as I may or may not want them to.

I kiss her, on the very tip of the head of her penis; just as she is bending down, just enough for me to read up to her. I part my lips once more, my tongue slide out and licks the tip. I continue to lap the slippery surface of the large head; as far as I am able, considering the size.

“Oooh! Oooh!” she sighs, in response.

“She knows me, only too well!” I realize, enjoying what she has fetched for my pleasures.

I find myself parting my lips further; just as she is slipping into my mouth. I instinctively contract around her: just enough to hold her in a tight, firm grip from which I could not pull back.

Once her head is sliding in deeper, and down my throat; she knows she has me exactly where she wanted me all along. I can not protest, but enjoy what she is giving me.

With every tiny move of her hips, her penis moves inside me and teases me on.

“Why does this feel so familiar and right; as strange and different as it may seem?” I realize.

It is not as if I had enjoyed to be trapped or used by a Mistress or man before. While control is not exactly exciting me, but she does certainly know how to push my buttons to tease me forwards.

I find myself excited and wet; soaking and tightly contracting. Maybe it is her hooves, I had been permitted to lick and gaze at? Maybe it is the nipple I had kissed? That had triggered my initial excitement.

Only now, I am incapable of climax and can’t slip down and lose the excitement. Of course her excitement is infectious and I can’t resist her.

I can do nothing, as she is pushing and gyrating; sighing and cooing in excitement. Then it hit me, as I feel a sharp contraction, and the orgasm is flooding my mind. Once there is one, there is another, and another. Harder, faster.

While she may stand errect, I soon find the palms of her hands on my shoulders and her fingers slowly sliding down my back. She is seeking for what is between the firm orbs of my rump.

I feel my heart pounding and feel my blood rushing. I am breathing hard, sucking in air, as best I could.

Is she even capable of tiring in the least? There is no sign of a climax coming on, either on her part or mine. She really did set me up good, right there.

Then it happens, her fingers find the spot she had been searching for, her fingers slowly and utterly effortlessly slip in and she is grabbing a firm grip. I can do nothing, but gasp inwardly; in response to her action, as she is slowly dilating my rear entrance with her fingers.

“I am like wet clay, in her hands. She desires to make something beautiful, and I enjoy every instant of her efforts!” I realize, as I feel the affectionate touch, while she is stretching and teasing me.

There is a gentle touch to her, even as she is teasing and stretching me, nothing vicious and no malice to it in the very least. I feel her tugging and pulling, ever so gently; stretching and teasing. As she lets go, she had slipped her hands back close enough, to make the flesh snapping back unobtrusive.

Her hands then slide over my rump, to reach my mound and slip into my orchid; teasing and touching the petals and thus inducing yet more pleasure to me and gilding my moment. Pinching and stretching each petal.

Once she had stimulated my vagina, she lets go of the last of the petals and slide her hands up my body; finally reaching my breasts.

Once her hands reach my breasts, she is carefully cupping them; tenderly caressing them for a good long moment, before she is moving over to my nipples. With the tip of her thumb, fore and index fingers; she is caressing my right and left nipple, respectively. I feel the coarse rubber coating of the sensitive touch-pads, as she teases me to my very limit. By the time she is letting go, I am ready to burst, as I want to scream. Yet, my lips remain tightly contracted around her shaft, as her penis is moving up and down. I feel the head, as it is sliding the full length; up and down my throat, with teasing and agonizing slowness.

With the palms of my hands stuck on the floor, while she is still in my mouth; I am simply pinned and can not escape, if I had wanted to, while she is slowly, working me down towards the inevitable collapse.

In the end, she is giving in to the pressure and lets go of her load in an orgasmic squirt.

While she is by no means going limp or flaccid, she does choose to pull out. Bending her knees and leaning forwards; with the palms of her hands firmly resting on my waist in a gentle and loving grip. I feel the head slowly slip out of my mouth, once the shaft had already slipped out.

I gasp in relief and is almost collapsing onto the floor; if not for her hands supporting me, holding me up.

“Oooh, oooh; oooh, oooh!”! escapes my mouth, over and over as each consecutive orgasm is shaking me to the core each time.

“There is one thing, I will need to serve you; before we can continue, in order for you to enjoy the rest to the fullest!” she points out, still cooing in excitement.

Before I realize what had even happened; I find her body under me, her elbows on the floor and her hands holding me up gently. She is sliding back and forth, in order for me to come into position over her. I find my lips on her left nipple.

“Please, enjoy!” she coos, in excitement; offering me her nipple, once more.

I kiss the large nipple, then licks the tip, before I manage to part my lips further and lick the sides of her nipple. At this point, my lips slide down the sides of the nipple.

Her hands slide down to my waist, stopping to have a more comfortable grip of me, as she continues to support me over her body. I find myself lowered, to lie directly on her body. While my hands still stick to the floor and thus keeping me in place.

I almost gasp, but with the nipple in my mouth I merely bite down and is rewarded with a solid squirt; as she is tightening her grip momentarily. As the squirt hits the back of my mouth, I suck hard; once, twice, thrice. Over and over, only to be rewarded with a fresh new squirt each time.

“Sweet!” I ponder, as I taste the thick, slippery juices before tit flows down my throat.

While I still is short of breath, I am not quite as exhausted as I was a moment before. Maybe she gave me just enough energy, for me to be able to continue long enough to endure the entire treat. What ever she could possibly have kept in reserve for me.

Without even realizing it, I had closed my eyes and was relaxing as I drew in the second and third squirt and my eyes remain closed as I relax.

I tentatively open my eyes, eventually; after several minutes, with her nipple still firmly all the way in my mouth. My lips still contracted around the nipple, as my lips are touching the tip of her breast.

Now I realize, she is pushing me up into the air, before she is sliding out from under me. My hands still firmly stuck in place, but what could I do about it. The more I tug, the firmer stuck the palms of my hands grew. At least, that is the impression I had.

She eventually managed to pull herself out, from under me. From there, she is slipping out in order to stand on her needs, facing me. She leans forwards, grasping my right hand. I notice her face on the floor, before she is parting her lips and starts licking the tip of each finger in turn; starting with my thumb and continuing with one at the time. I barely feel her tongue as it slide over the nail, then she is licking the touch-pad and I gasp in shock and surprised pleasure. I could never have imagined, just how acute the sensation could be; or how deep the sensation could be rocking me.

Once she had teased each of the fingers of my right hand; naturally, she continued with the left hand, repeating the process.

“Lift your hand, straight up” she suggests, still cooing.

I try, but fail utterly. I try to lift the other hand, but the result is exactly the same. She merely giggle in amusement.

Pull your hand back!” she continues.

I try to follow her instruction, but the result is exactly the same. I try to do it with the other hand, no change. None, whatsoever.

“Now, if you permit; let me show you a little trick!” she points out.

She slips her index finger in under the palm of my right hand. As she does, I feel air eagerly rush in under my hand. As air hastes in under the palm, the suction goes out the window and my hand resumes its original form. Even if I am still wearing the gloves, the effects of the gloves withstanding.

“Oh!” I merely exclaim.

“Now, could you try it?” she inquire.

I give my left a tentative tug, but it refuses to budge in the least; as hard as I may try, the hand remains in places as if it had been glued to the floor.

I try to move my hand towards me, nothing; it refuses to budge. I try to slip the hand right and left; back and forth, but to no avail, the hand simply doesn’t budge in the least.

“Oh, yeah!” I sigh, before I slip my index finger in under the palm of the hand.

I feel resistance, but the finger slip in under the hand easily enough. Once the finger does slip in, the air is seeping in and kills the suction outright. My hand is free and I can push myself up, with only moderate help from Pink, who is only too eager and happy to help.

One small detail!” she points out, as she is helping me to lean back towards the nearest wall.

She then places my right hand up in my face and holds on to my left hand. I notice her licking the touch pad of my thumb and makes my best to imitate her. While I imagine, I am not the best; but it is still surprisingly enjoyable.

Without me realizing it, she is exposing me to the effects of her presence. The more I am exposed, the deeper the effect will become and the longer it will last. As she is lapping at each of my sensitive touch-pads in turn, the sensitivity increases, and the pad grows on me. Before she lets go of my hand, the internal changes had already been initiated and are taking hold of me.

“Are you strong enough to stand?” she inquires.

As she had expected, I shake my head. She quietly steps back, teasing me in the process. Only for her, to grab hold of my right foot and start to lap the soul of my foot. I gasp; but can’t help, but enjoying the sensations she is eliciting within me. She lets go of the foot, swapping foot every few minutes. Of course, the souls of my feet are soaking wet, from her insistent lapping. I can’t complain, but am yet to realize the effects of her actions.

“I think it is time to lie down and relax!” she points out.

Oh, okay!” I respond, as I lie down with my back flat on the floor.

“Close your eyes; and I will serve you a treat, on an entirely different level!” she continues.

I close my eyes, just as she suggested. I feel her pressing the palms of my hands onto the floor; pressing them down firmly, before she is taking a step back and examining her handiwork.

She soon sit down on my belly, with her rump in my face. With that in mind, she then places her lips squarely on my orchid and parts her lips. I notice that I am mirroring her every move, as her tongue slips out and slides into my orchid.

At first, she merely licks my petals over and soaking them with her saliva. From there, she continues to lap at me, deeper and deeper, yet never really hard or fast; but slow and gentle, teasing me further and further out on the precariously thin ice.

While I may know, how one could pull my hands free; it does not help me, while both my hands are stuck on the floor to the right and left of me. I am at her mercy, but I enjoy every instant of it. I may have noticed that I am mirroring her every move, at first; but my situation is blurring the image, I soon forget how I am eating her out, just as eagerly as she is eating me. Her tongue is expertly touching me deeper than I could have imagined possible.

I feel myself contracting, with each and every orgasm; hard and fast, pinching her tongue each time. Just that I find a strange pleasure in doing it since she asked me to. She can’t blame me, when she initiated every step and every last move.

What I did not realize or notice at the time, is how she is inserting a five inch clear rubber egg in my rear orifice. It is there, and it is clearly affecting me, but as I never noticed it entering me at the time, I can’t really know how it is affecting me. It is simply there.

I feel her pull back and lift her head up, even if it is barely registering consciously. She is raising to her hooves, before she is bending over and liberating my hands from the suction binding the palms of my hands to the floor.

She is watching me, as I lie still on the floor of her dungeon; my chest raising and falling as my heart is beating hard and fast, along my now laboured breath.

“I have one final gift for you, once you can walk over to me!” she is pointing out; as I manage to push myself up to a sitting position, albeit with some effort at this point.

A moment later, I manage to push myself up to a standing position; only to be shocked by the sensations invading my perception. It is not so much the squeaking noises my still soaking wet feet make, it’s the sensations of the floor under the souls of my feet, I can not quite reconcile instantly.

“Congratulations, you certainly have earned this!” she exclaims; as she is producing a seven and a half inches, glass clear squishy rubber egg.

As I accept her gift, she is slipping up behind me; easily as if she had been a ballerina, at a world famous opera.

“Let me introduce you, to how it works!” she points out, before she is slipping her fingers into my orchid, pulling her hands forwards and dilating me in the process, as she is spreading her hands outwards.

“Now, you just slip it in with the preferred end; though I think you should try the easier option, as a less experienced girl!” she is suggesting, helpfully.

“Thank you, Pink!” I exclaim, as I follow her suggestion.

The egg is slipping inside, finding its place with practiced ease. It requires no further guidance, for which I guess I should be eternally grateful. I find myself having the look of a pregnant woman. Should I enjoy and relish, or fear and hate the looks and what comes with it? It is a gift, and one I can choose to enjoy as I please.

“Could I extract the egg, if I want to; by myself, or do I need help?” I ponder.

“Don’t worry; aside from the fact that it is perfectly you, it is easy to extract the egg any time you so choose!” she exclaims, as she is noticing the questioning look in my eyes.

“Ah, thanks!” I gasp, more relieved than I had realized I would be.

It is not so much in the fact that I did not like the looks or that I feel uncomfortable or insecure in the situation; it is more in the fact that I have a choice I had not realized I could have been robbed of.

“By the way, I think it is time to disrobe now; you are not accustomed to the suit, and you don’t need to rush into it!” she then adds.

“Oh!” I sigh, in relief.

I start by slipping the gloves off of my hands, followed by slipping out of the socks I had been wearing from the time I entered the room.

“You can take them with you, or keep them here in case you are uncomfortable with wearing them at home or without my supervision!” she is assuring me.

"Oh, and let me help you with the tubes; so I can demonstrate how to extract them, while I am at it!” she offers.

“I was not aware of it, but if there is a special trick in extracting the tubes; please feel free to explain!” I respond, sighing.

I lick my lips in excitement. Pink is extracting the oral tube with great ease, as if she had done nothing else. I feel the tip of her finger slide in under the rip of the tube at the outer rim of my lower lip; then she is slipping another finger in under the rim of the tube in my mouth, grip the tube and pulls it out. She almost game me the impression, it had been easy to pull it out, but that’s a grave mistake.

Before I realize it, she had extracted the smaller egg, from my rear orifice. Now she is repeating the process, as she is extracting the vaginal and anal tubes one by one in turn.

She walks over to the wardrobe and leaves my tubes there, for me to take with me or leave as I please. As I turn around, I notice how the tubes are safely stored in their individual pages in which to store them for later use.

I had noticed, how something changed; at the moment she was extracting my anal tube, now, only a moment later I feel the effect as I am hit by the climax built up from the instant the tube had been inserted.

“If you want, you could still enjoy a last squirt?” she is suggesting, with eager generosity.

I quickly accept her offer and kiss her on the right nipple, lick it and suck it into my mouth. As I draw in air, I am rewarded with a new squirt. As I continue; I am distracted, thus not noticing how she is once more licking each and every one of my still very sensitive touch pads at the edge of each of my fingers. In the process, she is confirming unconscious choices and reaffirming the changes caused by wearing the gloves.

I think I need to slip the top of before I go; even if I guess I am free to take it with me!” I point out, as I let go of the nipple and step back.

I had indeed enjoyed her nipple; and more so, than I had expected. In fact, I still do enjoy it and the squirts of milk she granted me. Had I been this excited by lactation before, if so, I had not realized it.

"Oh, but of course!” she responds, taking a step back to give me room.

I slowly and somewhat reluctantly pull the top up over my head and hang it in the wardrobe. She bends over and places her lips on the tip of my right nipple and kisses it. I feel her licking the nipple and taking it into her mouth. She nipples a few times and suck hard, granting herself a stiff squirt in the process. A few squirts later, she pulls back; before she is repeating the process with my left nipple.

“That, that; that was delightful!” I merely respond.

“Yes, wasn’t it!” she intones.

In hindsight, the nails looks good on me as they are now, and I guess I could get used to the touch pads too. I am still a bit unsure about the suction cups, they force me to be more careful with my hands.

My lips are metallic bloody red, and glistering as if I had coated them with thick, clear lubrication. Of course my lips are still more elastic than before, and my mouth will stay prone to contract on instinct for time to come.

Should I be bothered by my enlarged nipples and their tendency to lactate at odd times; just because I was excited or touched.

“Why do I feel the desire for you to lick my feet again?” I inquire.

“If it makes you excited, I would very much love to do it for you! Just follow me!” she exclaims, as she is walking to the waiting room just outside.

I follow her out and sit down as she is indicating a chair. I lift up my feet and she is kneeling before me. She is holding my ankles eagerly, licking the soul of my right foot; toe by toe and then the rest of my foot. She is repeating the process with my left foot.

Before I had the time to react or protest; she is spreading my legs and leans forwards even further. I find her face planted squarely on the top of my mound and she starts licking the petals of my orchid with eager and excited care. Once she had coated my petals, she is slowly advancing, slipping inside and sliding further and further in, inside me until she had reached as far as her tongue would permit.

While she is eating me, her hands are sliding over my hips and all the way back over my rump, son her finger slide inside the orifice and carefully grip the rim and caress me from the inside and out.

When she is finally letting go of my rump, and pull her tongue out of my orchid; my feet are once more dry, as if she had been drying them off with a soft towel for an hour. She had not, but I certainly had enjoyed the time.

Her lips slowly withdraw from my now soaking wet orchid; before she is sliding out from over me. I notice, how she is now pushing my legs together; while still grinning her excited grin. Had she enjoyed the taste and sensations of eating me as much as I had?

I slowly rise to my feet, on wobbly legs, after several more orgasms. I am hit by the climax, while I am led back to the wardrobe with my clothes. I could not go outside, without wearing clothes.

“I take it you enjoyed your time with me!” she pronounces.

“Yeah.. yes, I most certainly did!” I respond; mumbling somewhat incoherently, at first.

It had been a hard, trying time; yet it had been the effort on my part.

As much as the experience has already taken out on me, but I will still be challenged in so many other ways as well. The nails and the touch pads should be easy enough, to get used to. Not sure of the suction cups just yet; but they do seem fun enough, if you look at it all from the playful side.

I still do enjoy walking around in the room, even if I guess I may consider walking on my toes in order to lessen the excitement. Do I try to lick my toes, or do I find someone whom I could convince into helping me out?

I may consider buying new shoes and socks, considering the change in disposition and how the sensitivity and sensitivities are tipping the scales for me.

I am not sure, I could look at eggs; in quite the same way, ever again after this experience. While I may not have been the fan of drinking milk before; but she certainly changed my view, on that item to the core.

While I had enjoyed my time with Pink, I will have to depart at some time. Sadly, my time here is coming to an end, shortly.

I walk to the wardrobe, open the door and extract the top. I manage to slip the garment on, with little to no challenge. As I look down, something occurs to me; I will have to extract that egg, giving me a look, as if I had been pregnant. My clothes did not conform enough, to be comforting right now. I would simply have to acquire a new wardrobe to support this. Something I plan to do, and soon.

“Uhm, could you help me pout here? I am a bit new to this!” I point out.

“Oh, certainly!” she responds.

I turn away from the wardrobe, and she is right there; extracting the egg with practiced ease.

“Thank you, Pink!” I exclaim.

“You are quite welcome!” she merely nod in response.

I pull out the panties and step into them; before I extract the skirt from the wardrobe, stepping into it. Now I pull out the socks, right and left; before I slip them onto my feet and step into my old shoes.

“I will just have to get used to this!” I tell myself; biting my tongue, in irritation.

“How do I carry the new items, if I want to take them home with me?” I inquire; “In case I was permitted to take them with me?” I ponder.

“I think I have exactly what you are looking for, if you would accept it!” she answers, handing me a comfortable looking back pack with room for all the specific items.

“Thanks again, Pink!” I respond.

Without further adue, she is slipping the eggs in the upper and lower cases, before she is slipping the tubes into the right side case for them in order.

“There, ready to go!” she points out, helping me to slip into the new back pack.

With the clothes on, and the back pack firmly and comfortably on my back, I am indeed ready to go.

“Thank you, Pink; have a nice day, and see you soon!” I point out, as I walk towards the door.

“Thank you, for coming; have a nice day, and I very much hope so see you too!” she responds.

Of course, I had identified myself with my palm on the way in, so I guess that is all I really did need. There is a plaque on the way out, by the side of the elevator, just as I had one on my way in. I place the palm of the right hand on, with my fingers spread as wide as I could possible manage, thus concluding the deal, as I am leaving.

--- The End ---

Book Two: Without Consent, Under the Spell of Black Tubes

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I definitely do feel the pinch in my rear orifice, from the tight riveting tube; I am also lying on my back, on the top of the bed and have no quilt over me. That is a bit strange, for me.

While I am still a bit out of it, from being woken up; I feel the vaginal tube slipping into place, effortlessly. A pair of hands slip in the oral tube into my mouth, just as effortlessly as with the anal and vaginal tubes before.

“These gloves are exactly what you need, and I am sure you will look great in them, too!” a voice exclaims.

“Uhhm, uhhm, uhhm!” I mumble through the tube; “Of course they are, but I really do not feel like wearing them right now!” I ponder.

“I am mute, and this oral tube is both stronger and faster than anything I have ever tried out before!” I realize in shock.

“Let me warm you up, to the situation you just found yourself in!” she coos, in excitement.

“I really wish, you would not!” I ponder.

Of course, I had already lost all control of my mouth, tongue and lips.

I feel her hand grabbing hold of my right wrist and pulling the hand to her face; she is spreading my fingers wide, before she is licking what appears to be the highly sensitive touch pad under the nail at the tip of each finger. I shiver, feeling the tip of her tongue lapping each of my touch pads in turn.

Once she had given the right hand its due, she presses the palm of my right hand down firmly at the side of my bed. I soon realize, the suction is far stronger than me; the hand is helplessly stuck.

She picks up my left hand, examining the crystal clear, semi square, inch long and glistering nails, before she sets out and lick at each of my touch pads. In shock, I realize what effect she had been having in mind for em; as I feel myself slowly growing wet and tight.

I feel her pressing down my left hand on the other side of the bed, with my fingers spread uncomfortably wide. The hand is firmly stuck, so hard I am utterly incapable of pulling it free, it would not even budge, no matter how much I try.

“If you don’t mind, let me confirm what you think you are experiencing is actually true!” she points out, extending her right index finger and placing it on the top of my mound, effortlessly slipping it into my already wet orchid.

“No, please now! I don’t want to!” I ponder, incapable of even move my lips.

Just as she was pointing out, my orchid is wet, all the way out to the tip of each petal; there is nothing I could do about it, as much as I want her to stop. I don’t want her to; but my body is made to betray me, as she is forcing me to take part of what she had in mind for me.

My anal tube is making me incapable of rejecting her, in any way shape or form, just as the vaginal tube is making me wet, as response to her teasing actions. I already know, how the oral tube is rendering me mute and taking all control of my mouth; even if I may suspect it does hold yet more shocking effects upon me, soon enough.

Should I be grateful, for the fact that she had not used my old and dirty panties or socks to mute me, in place of the tube still effectively pinching my lips?

I certainly could enjoy a good pink district tube, on my own terms; these are red district tubes, and definitely not on my terms at all. I am forcibly made into taking part in her game, without any consent on my part. She had not even asked me.

With the items in her possession, there is no use or need to be brutal; I could only assume, she finds a special pleasure in making me take part without actual force. Of course, I had already lost all chances to even voice my objection.

“You are wet, delicious and juicy!” she pronounces, wording spelling out the situation for me.

“Of course I am; I can’t refuse, as much as I may want to!” I ponder.

Of course she could not let go, without pinching and tugging at my petals a few times; just for good measure. The problem is, this only makes me even more wet and juicy than I had been before. Did I even enjoy the treat, in the first place?

No kisses, and she had not even touched my nipples yet.

“Of course, now I know what you are missing!” she proudly declares, as she is producing a five inch, clear rubber egg.

I can see her placing the egg between my legs, before she is reaching down under my rump. Her hands sliding along the smooth, plump skin; before the tip of her fingers slide in effortlessly. She grabs the rim and pulls me up, dilating me enough for the egg to slip in without too much force. I feel the smooth, stiff rubber side inside, and her hands slowly letting go, thus pushing the egg all the way in.

“That was an experience!” I realize, not quite used to having anything in my rear orifice.

In shock, I feel the warmth from the slowly pulsating egg inside. There is no pushing it out, even after she has let go of me, once more.

“One final detail, before I warm you up for the fun part!” she points out; producing a pair of knee long toe socks, for me to wear.

She picks up my right foot, slipping the sock on and pulls it all the way up to my knee, giving it a few tentative tugs, in order to assure herself she had put it om properly. Before she could let go of my foot, she is bending my leg, leaving the soul of my foot exposed beside my rump. From there, she is repeating the process.

“There, much better!” she is commending herself.

Without a word, she bends forwards, over me; before she is licking the souls of my feet, left and right, respectively in turn. I can’t help myself, as she is eliciting the stimulating sensations to me. The souls of my feet are soaking wet, before she is straightening up and looks at me, once more.

“Oh, but wait; I think I have a treat, for you to enjoy!” she points out.

She turns around and produces a pair of thigh high hoof stockings. I could see the silicon white legs, as she is standing up, but fail to see the glistering black hooves. She is giggling in excitement, as she slips the stockings on, adjusting them with a few final tugs.

“Of course, she wanted me to do something for her; to, didn’t she?” I realize.

She had not made me into a pretty doll, to catch her fancy; for her to play with as she pleases, she expects me to play my part and please her.

She is lifting her right hoof up, before she is placing the soul of the hoof over my lips. As the hoof is slipping within range; I notice how my lips part and my tongue slips out and slowly starts licking the soul of her hoof. Slowly and gently, teasing her even further.

As I have lapped the hoof enough, she is withdrawing it and press it back onto the floor beside the other one; lifts her left hoof and places it just above my still parted lips. With that, I find myself licking her once more.

These are suction cup hooves, not quite the strength of my suction cups and under her control. Maybe I had found a fancy for it, under different circumstances; even found it exciting, had I chosen to have her here and offered her to play with me. Now she had simply stepped in, and forced me into it before I had even woken up.

There is a distinct, jubilant squeak, each time she is setting down a hoof on the floor; now it is even more pronounced, after she had made me lick them wet.

While she has slipped on the stockings on purpose; she had inadvertently made herself into an object of desire, for me. If it is the glossy, black hooves, the squeaking noises or the suction cups in her control; I can not say now, since I am not quite in control of myself, or my own body for that matter.

She takes a step back and look at me intently with excitement and desire in her eyes. I notice that she is wearing a clear, glossy rubber top, such as one may enjoy at the pink light district. She is slipping the clear panties, matching her top of, before producing another pair of panties. Only these comes with bright cerise tubes; anal and vaginal respectively, aside from what is to pass for a ten inches long penis in full errection.

“I will need you to be soaking wet, for me!” she is merely stating, giggling in excitement.

She places her lips, firmly on the top of my mound, encircling the petals of my orchid with her lips. I feel her tongue slipping and sliding over the petals one at the time, as she is licking them. While I must have been wet, she makes utterly certain, I am soaking, before she is moving on. Her tongue slipping into the orchid, as she is lapping away, eagerly and excitedly; teasing me further and further down the slippery slope of excitement.

She stops, just before I am about to have my first orgasm, as I am slowly contracting around her tongue. I notice her pulling her head back.

She is producing an eight inches, crystal clear, squishy rubber egg, just for me. She is balancing the egg between my legs, before she slips her fingers into my orchid and takes a firm grip, spreading me open and dilate me enough for her to push the egg in, into my vagina. As she is letting go of the petals, I feel the egg sliding further inside and finding its comfortable resting place; safely within my womb.

“I look, as if I was pregnant; I don’t like it, at all!” I ponder, in resignation.

“You are such an adorable little girl, and hot as hell!” she points out, as if she had the intent to dispel my unspoken protest.

The only problem is, this is exactly what I did not like. I do not want to be adorable or hot; I just want to sleep alone, in my bed. I could do nothing to change my fate, at this point; she already had me stuck and defenceless, with all her tubes in place.

She ignores my wishes, and goes ahead with what she had had in mind, all along.

“Wait, maybe I should have just one more bite; and watch you roast, for a moment?” she exclaims.

“Of course, you could do that; it is not as if I could stop you, as much as I want to!” I ponder.

She bends over, once more; planting her face on top of my mound and presses her lips onto my orchid. When she said that she wanted a bite, I should have taken it literal; because she is nibbling each of the petals of my orchid in turn, even if she is not exactly biting anything of. At least, not yet. Maybe she would, but I dare not even think of it right now. Even in this state, it would be extremely painful, not to mention the effects it could and surely would have on me, once I do get out of her grasp.

Yet, for now, she is exposing me; to what she had slipped into me and her teases. I could do nothing about it, but simply has to endure it all.

The nibbling only lasts for about a minute or two; then she resumes the more pleasant teasing, lapping at my petals and even a little bit inside the orchid. Then she leans back, and looks at me for a moment.

“Why is she holding back, is she unwilling or afraid of physically damaging my body in any manner?” I ponder, finding the realization even more frightening than she had been up until now.

If she kills me, it would at least be all over; as painful as she may choose to make it, for me.

Despite myself, I have an orgasm; from all the teasing, she had made me endure for her. I could not help myself, it is simply how my body is made to react upon the stimuli she is giving me.

How much more could my body endure, before it finally gave in unconditionally and permanently; how much could I take, before I was helpless and lost forever? I have no idea, and quite frankly, I do not even dare contemplating the topic.

Within a minute, from the previous orgasm, I have yet another. Is that how close they are? The contraction is hitting me hard, both physically and emotionally. This is real, it is actually happening to me; in the real world, of flesh and blood. It is no dream or deluded fantasy.

A sensation is snapping me out of it, bringing me back to the here and now. I feel her soft and highly effeminate hands squarely holding on to my waist, albeit soft and gentle.

She caresses me with her hands, as she is climbing up onto the bed. With her knees; she is nudging my legs apart further and further, in the process of defining her space on top of me and between my legs.

Once she had made herself comfortable, I feel the top of the head of her penis touching my orchid, right between the petals. Slowly and gently, she is pushing forwards; sliding inside with one final push. I feel the head plop, incapable of stopping her, as much as I wanted to.

As tight as I already am, I feel myself contracting even more around her, holding her in a firm grip and making it progressively harder for her to pull out of me now. I realize, just how delicious it is to her, how delightful I am under her as I hold her inside.

Just as I feel her inside me, she is feeling me around her as well. The delicious irony of it all; I am pleasing her more than I could have, had I wanted to.

I feel yet another contraction, and she is pushing herself in further and further. Slowly and gently. Teasing me with each and every inch, while enjoying herself Royaly in the process.

I am exposed to her temptations and my body is swallowing it whole without my consent. I could not stop myself, as much as I still do want to.

Each gentle touch and caress is slowly withering me down, I could not hold up much longer. Do I even want to hold out and feel the pain of what she is doing to me, when I could enjoy what she is doing for me?

Just feeling her slide into me, the shaft slowly sliding inch by inch; caressing and teasing the petals of my orchid. I am wet, soaking wet; deliciously slippery already. The tunnel of my orchid stretching with her entering me, until she is hitting rock bottom and bounces back to slide up and out. Just, she does stop, just as the back of the head is squeezed back in by my orchid. My body does not want to let her go.

As she is bouncing back in, her lips touches mine and kisses me eagerly. I feel her lips hot and wet, in the moment of the initial contact.

While I had not expected her to kiss me, or that her lips would be quite so hot; but I guess I should be grateful for it, and enjoy it for what it is. Or, shouldn’t I?

Had she by any chance asked me, and I had agreed; I would have expected a kiss, the kiss would have been a joy in and of itself. Yet, I do not know her, or what her motivation is; just as I have no idea, as to what she enjoys, more than what she is doing to and with me right now. Is she enjoying to have me at her mercy, to make me come to her terms? Should I look forwards to, or fear what comes next or what my reactions may be?

Yet, she does indeed have me, at her mercy; there is nothing I could do about it. She is even making me warm up to her touches and even the kiss. If I knew how or why; would it change anything for me now? I am at her mercy, and that is in the end all there is. I do enjoy the kiss, as I feel myself grow warm under her.

I feel my heart pound, harder and harder; just as I feel my breath, growing laboured under her caresses and the effort she is pushing me through.

I feel my heart skip a beat, as her hot lips part and her tongue is slowly slipping out. She licks my lips; and I notice just how slippery and wet it is, as if she had lubricated it beforehand. Strangely enough, I do not shiver or feel any other adverse reaction to the unexpected and strange sensation and behaviour. Maybe I should not have been surprised, had I known the strength and power of the tubes she had inserted into my orifices.

My lips does not part with hers, but her tongue slips in, into my mouth without effort. The slippery, lubricated wetness of her tongue soon lips into my mouth, as I feel her tongue slowly, but eagerly examine and probe my mouth. In return, I realize that my tongue slips out of my mouth as I lick hers in turn; before I explore the inside of her mouth in the process. It is, as if I instinctively mirror her actions, while she is kissing me.

After a minute, the tip of her tongue is reaching the back of my mouth; slowly, but certainly not hesitantly slipping down my throat. I am still mirroring her every move, as I feel my tongue slip down her throat just as easily as hers is.

As the tip of her tongue slip down my throat, I find myself contracting around her with a strangely familiar shiver. Wait, did my body actually enjoy the sensation of her tongue, slipping down my throat? I can’t believe it. Yet, there it is; no point in denying the sensations, such as they present my reaction on what I experience.

She is stretching her tongue, as far as she is able, slipping down my throat as far as it goes before she is starting to pull her tongue back. In the process, I feel myself forced into doing exactly the same for her.

She is exposing me, to her brand of fetishes; forcing me into enjoying them, finding these exciting. I just do not know or realize the depths of what she is doing, or just how deep she is actually changing me.

I feel my tongue slipping up and down her throat, as her throat slowly contracts around me slippery tongue.

There it is, the first actual contraction; akin to what I recognize as an orgasm. How does that even work? I am reeling back in confusion, as I keep going on her quest.

The next orgasm, harder and faster; followed by another and another, like the ticking of a bomb about to go off. Maybe that is the best description one could put onto what is going on here.

With constant, continuous teasing and stimulation I keep coming; orgasm by orgasm, until I peak, but there is no climax in sight.

She is pulling her tongue out and breaking of the kiss; but I still feel my contractions coming. She is pulling out of me and taking a step back, yet I keep coming; orgasm by orgasm, with no climax in sight.

With the palms of my hands suck in place and the plug firmly in my anal tube, there is no escape. My anal, vaginal and oral tube stay firmly in place, as she is pulling back. The tubes are maintaining their grip on me, affecting me relentlessly. I remain utterly incapable of climax, just as I am soaking wet and slippery.

“Don’t worry, I will be back for seconds!” she merely points out.

“Of course, that is exactly what I fear!” I ponder; “Even if I guess I need you; to extract the tubes, you inserted into me!” I ponder.

“Exposure is key!” she exclaims, as she is back.

I feel her picking up my right foot, holding it before her face. She is parting her lips and the tongue is coming out. The tip of her tongue, slowly and meticulously carefully licking the soul of my right foot, from the heel and all the way down. Once she had licked the soul of the foot, she continues; licking each of my toes, from largest to the smallest. While it may have taken her an hour, she merely starts all over and licks my foot all over again.

The soul of my foot is already soaking wet, the first time, but she relentlessly starts over again.

Once, twice, thrice.

“Why thrice? Is this a religious idiocy, of hers?” I ponder.

Of course, she doesn’t answer any of my questions or explain herself. She may guess my reactions, but that doesn’t make her inclined to explain anything to me.

Minute by minute, slipping by me; like lubricated vibro-eggs on a slippery slope. I can do nothing about my situation. Just experiencing the orgasms, as they come and go.

I find myself melting, under the pressure of exposure to her fetishes; as I keep coming over and over, for as long as these tubes are invading my body and affecting my mind. Each orgasm, nibbling away a little bit more of my resistance and my image of who I was before.

Her impression, singing in; deeper and deeper; the longer I am under the influence of the tubes and stay peaked.

If it is an hour after the last time she came in; but now she is picking up my left foot. I feel her tongue licking the soul of the foot, from the heel and all the way down; before she is licking each toe from the largest to the smallest.

The third time she is back, she is kissing me again. I feel her lips parting and her tongue sliding over my lips as she is licking me. She is eliciting a strange, warm sensation in the process.

Like before, she is licking my wet lips, before her tongue is slipping into my mouth and exploring my mouth; while I realize, I am mirroring her action in turn.

Just like the previous time, her tongue soon hit the back of my mouth and tease me about it for about a minute or so; before her tongue slip down my throat all over again. Yet again, I find myself incapable of resisting the instinctive reflex and continues to mirror the action.

I feel her tongue slip down my throat, before it is sliding up again. Like before, my throat is contracting around her tongue, just as I can clearly feel her throat contracting around mine. Up and down my throat, her tongue continues to move, teasing me and stimulating my body further and further.

In the end, she is pulling back, only to lick the inside of my mouth; pulling back further and licks my lips, before she is finally letting go of me.

As she leaves me behind, she leaves me just a bit more exhausted; heart pounding and breathing hard. She keeps coming back for more; as if the effort had not affected her in the least. Could she have pulled out her tubes and been resting with a good, delicious cup of tea? I stay in place, peaked and exposed to her pleasures., still incapable of pulling free or removing the tubes.

Naturaly, she did come back a few more times; before she went to bed, even if she failed to explain that part to me. I am far too exhausted by her fetish pleasures to care too much. After her breakfast, she is returning with renewed vigour and fiery passion. She is kissing me good morning.

She is licking my right foot, then my left foot. Of course, she could not go without a bout in these panties of hers. By now, I could not help myself; but am enjoying it, despite myself.

“It is time, for me to enjoy my candy unwrapped. I hope you do not mind!” she exclaims, as she is returning from an hour outside the room in which I am confined.

“Maybe you could be using some rest?” she inquires, without waiting for any response on my part.

“You don’t need to ask me, but thanks!” I ponder, still mute and thus incapable of voicing my thoughts.

I notice how she is slipping in a rubber cushion under my body. Once the cushion is firmly under me and secured in place; she is giving my hands a tentative tug right and left, respectively. Of course, that was just to make the point. She is slipping in the nail of her right index finger under the palm of my right hand, while she is holding my wrist in her left hand. Now I feel her pulling the hand free from the wall. As she is letting go, my hand soon fall down to my side.

She is taking a step to my other side, grabbing the left wrist in her left hand; before she is extending the index finger of her right hand and slipping the nail in under the palm of my hand, slowly guiding me down onto the clear cushion under me.

Of course, I am far too tired and exhausted to make a single protest, or move after the time she had exposed me to her fetishes.

“I want to taste my candy without her wrappers, and I have promised to remove these tubes!” she points out.

With that, she is pinching the oral tube, extracting it effortlessly. After the exposure, my lips are glossy and soaking, slippery wet. I am also mute and susceptible to her exposure.

“There, you certainly do look delicious now!” she points out.

She is reaching for my mound, pinching the vaginal tube; effortlessly extracting it and exposing my wet vagina to the air. I am clearly still coming, slippery and soaking wet; from the exposure.

“Yummy, I certainly do need to eat you now!” she exclaims.

With the vaginal tube extracted, she is pinching the anal tube, extracting it. Once the tube is no longer in, the time is ticking and I have my long overdue climax just a minute later.

While I still am exhausted and overly tiered, she continues. She is slipping my right and left glove off of my hand. My hands still do remain in the prime and highly effeminate state.

She is slipping my right and left stocking off of my feet, thus leaving me entirely nude and fully exposed to the moist air in the room.

“How long does it take me, to revert to my original state; assuming I will resume to anything like who and what I was before?” I ponder.

“Assuming, she gives me the time and chance to revert in the least!” I realize.
“Let me make this exciting, for you!” she exclaims, in excitement.

While I still lie on the bed, with my back on the cushion; she is gripping my right calf in her hand and pulls it up for her to have her fun. Like before, she is licking the soul of my foot, from the heel and all the way down, continuing with my toes from the largest to the smallest. She leaves my right foot, grabbing the left one and continues; repeating the process from the heel to the smallest of my toes. My feet are soaking wet, from exposure to her deliberate attention. Of course, I had enjoyed it just as much as I had the last time and thus affirmed the effect of the exposure to her fetish.

She is picking up my right hand by the wrist, licking the suction cup for a good long while. She continues with the sensitive touch pad of my thumb, then my other fingers one at the time from the index to the pinkie finger.

Once the palms of my hands are soaking wet and tingling from her attention, she is pressing them palms down on the floor under me. I feel clearly, how the suction is taking effect and holding me securely in place. Had I had the energy, I would have found out, just how firmly my hands are stuck in place. I am utterly incapable of pulling them off of the floor.

She is down on the floor, taking place right on top of me. She places her lips firmly on min in a warm, wet and excited kiss. I feel her lips parting, as her tongue slips out and licks my lips before slipping into my mouth.

I find myself mirroring her every move, as her tongue is slipping into my mouth and licking and probing my mouth; only to realizing that her tongue once more slips down my throat and stretches as far as it possibly can; while I contract around her tongue, in the process.

As her tongue is reaching as far as it can, it stops momentarily; before it is pulling back, stopping just before it had pulled out entirely. Her tongue is sliding up and down, in and out; I feel myself contracting more as she continues, then I have a contraction feeling just as if I had an orgasm. She continues for what seems to be forever, but it’s just an hour at the very most.

She is pulling out, before she is withdrawing her head.

In shock, I realize that she is moving around to place her tongue on my mound; only for me to find her mound slipping down onto my lips in turn.

Her lips are pressing down onto my mound in a kiss and she is slipping my petals in between her lips. Now she is licking each of my petals meticulously one at a time with eager passion. The tip of her tongue soon slips into my vagina and pushes further and further inside, until it is stretched out to its limit. She stops for a moment; before she is pulling back, stopping just before she is pulling out entirely.

I feel her tongue slipping in and out, in and out, slowly and carefully teasing and stimulating me with great care and deliberation. Once more, I am exposed and made aware of just how much joy she could put into the actions.

I find myself contracting around her, more and more as she continues lapping away at me; eating me from the inside and out. Had I not been slippery and soaking wet before she started, I would have become just that in no time flat. Her tongue would still be just as slippery and wet now as it was, last time around; which is exactly how she is experiencing me, as my tongue is slipping in and out of her, her orchid in turn. Only this time, I move in perfect counter point; instead of mirroring her movements in turn.

As she had had her fill, she is pulling out and pulling her head back; yet I realize I do not stop with her, as my tongue is slipping in and out several times more. I could only imagine, how this would make her grin. Shouldn’t she?

“Time for the dessert!” she exclaims.

“Wonder what she could possibly have in mind!” I ponder, knowing full well she is just about to make it obvious to me.

Since she had put the effort in extending her attention to my orchid, I am certainly having my fair share of orgasms. Should I be complaining about this? Assuming I could actually voice the concern in the first place, that is. Of course I know; I can’t make a sound to the effect, being utterly mute since the day before as she slipped the tube in between my lips. At least, I know I am mute. Nothing speaking to the contrary.

Without her on me, I find it comfortable to close my eyes; there is nothing I can do about what she chooses to do anyway.

When she chooses to make her pressesns known, I find her between my legs. While she is pressing her lips down on my mound and licking my petals, I feel her hands sliding over my rump. The next moment, her fingers are slipping in and grabbing hold firmly.

At first, she is merely content with rubbing the rim of my orifice. A few minutes, she is tightening her grip and starts stretching; once, twice, thrice. Further and further out, just for her very personal and highly intimate joy; aside from providing me with exposure, to her fetishes and making me endure what she had had in mind for me from the very beginning.

If I could try to clench my muscles, in the blind hopes of resisting her in the least; yet that is far too late now, after a full night with the tubes in me and the climax denied.

She lets go of me and pulls back. Is she already done with me? Will she leave me to cook, enduring the orgasms until she is permitting me to climax?

“I have a gift for you to enjoy!” she is pointing out.

“I will just give you a final parting treat; before you can enjoy it, for yourself!” she is adding, almost as if it had been a forgotten after thought.

She is kneeling before me, standing between my legs; placing the palms of her hands on my waist and bending over. The next moment; she is kissing my right nipple, parting her lips and licking it gently and carefully spreading her thick and slippery saliva all over the entire nipple.

She spent several minutes, extending her full and undivided attention to my right nipple, before she is pulling back, enough to move her head over to my left nipple.

Once more, she is kissing my nipple; only this time it is the left one, earning the attention of her kiss and licking. Should I complain? I guess I do find it enjoyable, for her to spend equal time on both sides. While I had never asked her to be on me, spending the time with me; now I can’t protest her actions now. I am finding me warming up to her advances, more than I like to admit. More than I had ever wanted to enjoy, what she had in mind for me. I had never enjoyed most of these things; let alone even explored it on my own, before.

Before she is actually, truly letting go of my nipples, she is nibbling on both of them; just for good measure, just to make a point and further my slide down the slippery slope. Of course, there is the initial pain; just as one should have been expecting, but that is as far as the discomfort goes as I find myself enjoying the sensation of how she is stretching the nipple for just a moment.

“She is one mean Mistress, when she is in the mood for it!” I ponder.

Incidentally, she had made me climax; just as she was nibbling my nipples. Not quite sure how I should feel about that; but I am still enjoying the chance to finally have a chance to rest up, unless she is choosing to keep me up and awake any longer.

Since you had a very long day and are already on the cushion, I guess I should let you sleep; but I need to help you with a final detail!” she is explaining, with great care.

I can feel her hands moving along the skin of my body, as she is adjusting how I am lying on the soft and squishy cushion.

I can feel her slipping the nail of her right index finger under the palm of my right hand and pulling it free from the floor; before she is slipping it in under my left hand and pulling that off of the floor in turn. She is pushing my legs together and my arms to the sides of my body. For a moment, she merely leaves me resting on my back.

She bends over and inserts the anal tube, I clearly feel the distinct sensation of the riveting tube plop firmly. She continues, slipping in the vaginal tube, making me feel it plopping, just as the anal tube had a mere moment before. She is finishing this off, by slipping in the oral tube in between my lips.
I lie where she had left me, with each tube firmly and unavoidably in place. I know what it means; she is not letting go of me, the tubes will reinforce the effects on me even further. There is no escape.

I feel her lifting up my right hand, before she is slipping the glove on. She is letting my hand rest, before she is picking up the left hand and slipping it into the other glove. Now she is lifting up my right foot, slipping the sock onto the foot. Finally, she is picking up my left foot, slipping it into the sock.

I close my eyes, relaxing. I am not having any orgasm; since she had not stimulated me in, the least. Apparently, she wants me to have a night’s sleep. Or, at leas it is what I think. I fall asleep, even before I hear the door slam shut behind her.

I wake up, untold hours later, still feeling the tubes securely riveted in my orchid, where she had left them the night before. At least, I will assume it was the night before; since I have nothing to base my perception of time on.

The sensation of the tubes does not startle me, I had known of them since when she originally inserted them where they are now.

“Dare I even touch these tubes? I can't extract them, by myself anyway!” I ponder.

If I can not extract these tubes, what is the point of trying? For now, I enjoy the calm before the storm. I am not excited, just well-rested; after what I take for a full night's sleep.

The tubes may be inside, I can do nothing about it; they are still affecting me, even if I can not feel the effects directly. I know what these tubes did to me the first time, so I find it safe to assume they are doing exactly the same to me now. I just do not feel compelled to examine it or prove the case, right now.

I lift up my right hand, holding it up before my face; critically examining what my hand is looking like, now. I guess I should not complain about the inch long, semi square, crystal clear, glistering nails. The bright cerise and highly sensitive touch pads are still exactly where I had them before; which I guess is a bit reassuring to me. I am just divided, on exactly how and what to feel about them and what they imparted me with. The silicon white suction cup is also exactly where I remember it was the day before, imagining the effect is exactly the same as it was back then; so I make an effort, not pressing it down onto anything. Just to be safe.

If I had a mirror before me, a pair of blue eyes would be staring back at me. My face is largely unchanged and unharmed; for which I guess I should be eternally grateful at this time. The exception, the metallic bloody red, highly elastic and smooth lips.

While it would still take me an effort, to bend over enough to examine my feet; I feel secure in my image of what they are looking like, while I wear the socks she put on my feet before I finally fell asleep. Outwardly, there is little obvious change to be seen. My feet do look and feel the same as they did before she invaded my home and my life.

The souls of my feet are much more sensitive and quite excitable. She made the nails of my toes come out as flawless. Could I complain about it, given a chance?

Should I lie still, and pretend to be dead? What's the use, she will not throw me out with the garbage any time soon. If she did, the changes she forced upon me are still all there. Will I be capable of reverting to my old self, if all her physical gifts were extracted and removed? I still will have to live with the memories of her part in my life, no matter what.

“What are you waiting for? You know you want it, to feel good about yourself as you have a new orgasm!” a voice in my head points out, and I know she is right.

Of course, the voice is me, the subconscious part of me who enjoyed what she gave me. Even having the tubes in me is feeding that part of me, I could not deny it. Denying it, is to lie to myself. What's the point.

“Maybe I could touch myself, just once or a few times for old times sake!” I ponder.

Of course I could, and I do. I reach down, between my legs with my right hand; extending my index finger and stroke my orchid, once, twice and thrice. Then I do it a few more times. It did feel good, I could as well acknowledge it.

“I am playing into her hands!” I realize, tasting bile for but a moment.

I had not induced an orgasm, just yet; but it made me feel just a little bit better, all the same. Maybe I should rest for a moment, enjoying the change, I had just grated myself; even if I should know, this does come at a price. I will have to pay it, and soon.

“Wait, how was it she did that; when she pulled my hands free from the floor?” I ponder, trying to recall the trick she had applied.

“Oh, yeah; if I can slip in a finger under the palm of my hand pressed down on the floor, the suction will deflate like a punctured balloon!” I realize.

If the realization is a victory, or a defeat; since she is affecting me even further, the more I do her bidding. If I try to test it, I am willingly exposing myself, to what she had designed for me, and I am slipping down the slippery slope. Had she pushed me too far for me to climb out on my own; or, am I helplessly beyond all hope?

I choose the victory of figuring out how she did it; over staying motionless and waiting for her to come back. I place the palm of my right hand on the floor, pressing it down as hard as I can. When I let go and try to pull my hand up; it refuses, just as I had been expecting. Now it is the moment of truth, could I break free, by applying her trick to my situation? I extend the index finger of my free hand, slipping it in under the palm of my hand stuck on the floor. I feel the effect and pull free.

“That was easy, far too easy!” I realize.

“Yes, wasn't it?” the subconscious voice in the back of my head points out; “But it feels good!” the voice continues.

“When you put it that way, here goes nothing!” I ponder.

I lift my right hand up to my face and lick the touch pad of my index finger, only to enjoy how it feels; while knowing that I am already regretting the action. The realization does not hold me back. I lap at the touch pad for a full minute; before I continue with the next and the next, until I had soaked each of them with my saliva.

Once I had licked all the sensitive touch pads of my right hand, I end up; continuing, licking the touch pads of my left hand before I could stop myself. Maybe it just felt that good. I lift my hands up, palms up and ogle my hands, enjoying the moment, relying the moment as I was licking each sensitive touch pad in turn.

While I had never consciously been a tactile girl, I had never avoided it before. I am not about to start avoiding the sensations now, if it had never bothered me before. Why?

I lie on my back, pondering what to do while I remain in the room. Before I knew it, without realizing that I even was doing it; I found myself pinching the petals of my orchid, tentatively tugging at them one at the time, one by one in order.

Strangely enough, once I realize I am doing it, I enjoy the sensations the action is eliciting within me. It's too late to change my mind, I had already done it; finding it enjoyable, in the process.

“This is kind of fun, why did I not do it before; why were I so reluctant, trying it now?” I ponder, while I tug at the petals of my orchid.

Of course I know the answer to the question, because she asked me to do it. She had invaded my home and privacy, in order to make me do these things; for her pleasure, even if she had made me have orgasms and enjoy it in turn. These were her fetishes, not mine. Yet, now she had managed to make me enjoy it; doing it, with her urging me, to perform for her.

I roll over on my belly, as I finally do let go of the petals; placing my hands on my rump. My finger soon slipping into the orifice and I take a good, firm grip.

While the situation and position may be awkward and less than comfortable; I manage to pull and stretch more than I had expected or hoped I should be capable to.

“Oh!” I ponder, eagerly licking my lips.

I lift my right hand up to my face, extending the index finger; before I part my lips and slowly start to lick the touch pad, finding it slowly going wet and soaking, slippery.

“That should do it!” I ponder, as I lower my hand down and slip it in between my legs.

Now I slowly aim the finger towards the orchid, slowly stroking myself.

“Oh, oh!” I ponder, as I continue to tease and stimulate myself further and further.

“Ooh, ooh! Ooh, ooh!” I continue; “And there's my first orgasm, too!” I soon realize; before I had even realized it, knowing it was too late to turn back now.

“Too late; but it is feeling good, nonetheless!” I ponder.

Of course it is feeling good, I should have expected it; just as she had set it up, as she is slowly breaking down me and my resistance to what she had in mind for me.

When there is one orgasm, the next is sure to come; the next orgasm did indeed come, and it did feel just as sweet as the one before it. Then came the next; another and another and another. No escaping it, and no end in sight. Guess I had fallen, and now I am slipping even further down the slippery slope.

It is like an addiction, and you realize you will not feel good; if you do not take that one shot, just to feel good again. I am there, and I took the shot. Now I feel good, once more. Just that when I take it, I make it harder to return to who I am, or who I was.

This time, I do not slide down; before she is permitting me to have a climax, no matter what I do. Should I try to have fun now, and endure the orgasms full force, exposing me and stimulating me to have as much fun as I possibly could? Could I sleep, if I stop and break off on this level of stimulation? I could chance it, even if that is several hours away.

In the end, I do not stop, even if I momentarily do slow down. Why is it so delicious, to touch and caress the petals of my orchid now?

While I am still keeping my hand down between my legs, I lift my left hand up to my face, licking the sensitive touch pads. Is it to keep me from licking my lips, more than it is to feel the slippery and wet tongue sliding over the touch pads? There is the delicious, electric tingle in the touch pad; while I am caressing it, with the tip of my tongue.

“Inch long, semi square; is there a reason for the design, other than the mere visual pleasure to her?” I ponder; while I could as well admit to finding it beautiful, myself too.

I stop licking the petals, only to place the hand between my fingers, while I lift up the other hand to my face and lick the touch pads of the other hand. I can't make myself choose to lick one hand, or the other; just for the comfort of keeping the rhythm of caressing and tugging at my petals, or licking at the touch pads.

Do I swap hands, after ten or fifteen minutes. Who is to say? I have no watch and I do not really care. I keep teasing myself, and I can not make myself stop now; maybe it just feels too good, with heavy, laboured breathing and the heart pounding hard and fast in my chest. I peak, after an hour or two; I have no idea, I never cared to find the moment of the peak. I am coming, I have the contractions and orgasms to show for my efforts.

As I lift my hand to my face, I look at the touch pads, the nails and the suction cup, can I use either for anything more fun? I am already licking the touch pads; and I do love the sensations and how the pads are growing wet, each and every time. If I press the palm of my hand down on the floor, the hand will stick to the floor; as hard as if I had just glued it in place, I will not be able to just pull it free. Could I pinch myself to see if I am actually awake, or could I just pinch a nipple for the joy of it or to see if I climax? I could always pinch or tug my petals, which I do enjoy, more than I should have been.

I lift my right hand up to my chest, extending the index finger and carefully place it on the tip of my nipple; before I am rubbing it slowly, gently. With the nails of my thumb, index and fore fingers; I tentatively pinch the nipple, before I give it a soft, tentative tug.

“Ooh, ooh!” I sigh; “Why does that feel so good?" I ponder.

Of course, I failed to induce the climax. Why had I even expected that to work, in the first place? I had failed to take into the account; I am wearing the tube now, I had not worn them, when she used this trick to make me to climax.

“It was fun, let's do it again!” I ponder; pinching the nipple harder, tentatively tugging at it several more times.

I lick the touch pads once more, over and over, while I lift up my left hand to my other breast. Pinching the nipple and tugging at it; while I caress and tug at the petals of my orchid.

Time does not simply stop, it merely is slipping out between the cracks of reality and abandons me where I lie. Time has no meaning.

Somewhere along the way, I let my hands fall to the floor, under me; spreading my arms wide, pressing the palms of my hands down onto the floor. Firmly, with all the passion I am able to muster; forcing the suction to bind my hands down onto the floor. I am stuck in place, incapable to move out of the spot.

Seconds, minutes and hours go by, unnoticed and unappreciated, while I come all over myself. Too weak to move, and too excited to care.

I had fallen, for the temptations she gave me; trapped in the excitement and pleasures, she had given me in the first place.

While I had never really managed to sleep, I had ended up in an unconscious tate. Exhaustion does take its toll, as it were. I could hold on, no longer.

She had found me, where I lie on the floor, with the cushion under me and my hands stuck on the floor. Had she expected, anticipated this; yet she had come to pick me up and liberate me from the floor.

Should I thank her, for what she did, when she had put me into the situation in the first place?

She had extracted my tubes ion order; oral, vaginal and anal. She had liberated the palms of my hands, from the grip the suction had been having upon me. She had even slipped the gloves and socks, off of my hands and feet.

She had left me on the white silicon sheet, on the bed she had prepared for me. I have a clear silicon sheet covering me, as if it had been a regular quilt in my bed.

I had climaxed, mere minutes after she pulled me off of the floor; with the tubes extracted. I am lying naked, I am completely and utterly nude.

The bed is in an otherwise empty room, with nothing but a bed stand by the right side.

There are two sliding doors to what appears to be a wardrobe at the foot end of the room. I could estimate the rooms to be six by nine feet, just enough room for a single, regular bed.

I am still feeling weak; after the extended exposure to the straining activity as I was coming for untold hours at an end, before she pulled me out of it. I had had nothing to eat, since the last meal; so I have reasons to be feeling out of it.

As I open my eyes, there is a faint glow of light from overhead, the star skape in the otherwise mate black ceiling. I guess I should be thankful for the considerate thought. She could as well have left me in either utter darkness, or a blinding light.

I push the sheet to the side and slip my feet to the side, sitting up in the soft bed. It is firm, yet comfortable to sit on, just as it had been to lie on as I slept.

“The room is empty, no tubes or anything in sight!” I ponder.

Why were I looking for tubes or similar garments? I had been wearing them for hours and days, and see where that had taken me. Without the power of the tubes, I imagine; I could have been safely in my very own bed, right now.

“Why would I want to be in my bed? This is quite comfortable!” I ponder.

Of course it is comfortable. She had made it comfortable, and it is what I had been conditioned to enjoy. Maybe I am still missing these tubes, after all. Even after everything I had gone through.
I open the drawer of the night stand; empty, nothing is there.

“Maybe she had hidden the tubes in the wardrobe?” I mumble.

'A sound, I spoke!” I ponder.

Of course, the tube had never been reintroduced since she had liberated me from them, last time. She had taken the tubes from me, now I am utterly and completely naked.

As I lift my hand up before my eyes, looking at it, I notice that the nails remains unchanged, just as they had been the day before. I have the sensitive touch pads and the suction cups as well.

“Oh!” I sigh, in obvious relief.

If my conscious state is not required; how long will it take me, before I revert to the original appearance and next to nonexistent sensitivity? I had obviously been sleeping in the bed for several hours; maybe as much as eight to ten hours, at the very least. Nothing appears to be changed or giving signs or reverting any time soon.

As I reach down between my legs I find my orchid just as it had been the day before. My mound is glistering in the light, as if coated with clear silicon and then lubed up generously. I feel the petals of the orchid under my fingers; generously plump and very elastic and sensitive. I momentarily pull my hand back, leaving my hands at the sides of my body.

Once I slip down off of the bed, I realize, just how sensitive the souls of my feet are. I end up, tip-toeing over to the wardrobe. Hoping to find the tubes or the socks and gloves.

The wardrobe appears to be empty, at first. I sigh in disappointment. The failure clearly painted all over my face, reflected over my features as I slump.

“Oh well!” I point out.

I step into the wardrobe, closing the doors behind me. At first I am startled by the darkness, but it's not quite that bad.

Of course there are no secret or magical passages, to far of and fantastical or magical places within the confines of the wardrobe. I had never really hoped for anything like that, in the first place. As convenient as it had been, had I found that the first day of my incarceration, y the girl who has been holding me captured in the form within which I have found myself.

In the dense and heavy darkness, I close my eyes; I could still see exactly nothing, so there is no real difference to me. The room itself is still just as empty as it had been, when I was looking in through the door.

I explore the walls with my bare hands, which is exactly everything I have at my disposal at this time. Careful, not to get stuck with both my hands at any give time, I use the more sensitive touch pads to explore the wall.

Since I had clearly seen the door, there is no room to hide anything, so I bluntly ignore the inside of the doors. I start by the right wall, from top to bottom; there is nothing. I guess I had expected it, just as I secretly had been hoping that was the case. I continue with the middle wall, opposing the door through which I had entered, obviously finding exactly nothing. Just a smooth, slippery wall. While I could not see it, it is coated with mate, black silicon. I guess that would explain, exactly why it is so hard to fix my attention upon the walls in here.

There is but the one, final wall. Just as the rest of the interior, it had been coated with the same slippery, mate, black silicon.

I had explored the floor with the souls of my feet, there is nothing. There is even a seam between the floor and the walls. I had to assume, there is a seam between the walls and the ceiling, as well; even if I can not reach high enough, to examining it by myself without any aid.

I had however found a panel that springs open, as I am touching it with the tips of my bare fingers. There is a hint of blue light, behind the coated surface of the panel. I can finally see something.

A stiff form is hidden within the recess, behind the panel. On closer examination, it is a plug; with an eight inches long shaft and a three inches head. I carefully cup the head, with both my hands; feeling a hint of warmth, from within.

As late as the day before, I would not have touched the item; now I am eager to explore it in depth. She truly had broken me, I am thoroughly broken in.

I step forth, kissing the head of the plug before me. It is by no means intended to be looking or feeling like a penis. Maybe I am still grateful for that, even after everything she had made me endure, in her dubious care.

Without a thought, I push my head forwards, hoping I could take it into my mouth; just to feel it, to please it as if it had indeed still been a male penis after all.

My lips part, just enough to permit the stiff silicon plug to enter my mouth. I find myself eagerly pushing forwards, feeling the head plop distinctly as my lips contract around its shaft.

I sway and hesitate for a moment, as my mouth is perfectly filled up to the brim with the head, enjoying the sensation of my mouth stretching out just enough to make the point. I could no longer hold back, as I push forwards; feeling the head slip down my throat.

There is still a sense of exhilaration, as the slick and slippery head slides down my throat, I can't deny. As much as I may want to deny what I feel, the sensation and the feelings are still welling up within my throat.

My throat contracts around the head, as it slides further and further down; to the moment where I feel my lips touching the root of the shaft and I could push no further. I stay on place, as if I wish I could actually push further. Standing still, waiting and considering what I have before me.

I feel the head throbbing, just before I am rewarded with a firm squirt of a thick, slippery liquid. It is almost as if it had been a penis, after all. He had had his orgasms and spent his load.

I pull back, slowly, slower and slower; just never quite reaches the end, the head still stuck in my throat. I push forwards with renewed strength and excitement.

At the end, I can no longer push forwards and pull back. There is a new squirt as a reward; each time I pull back, making me want to push forwards and pull back; over and over.

Exactly how far it had reached, I have no idea; but it had slipped as far as it could, each and every time. With each squirt, I find myself contracting more and harder, in response to the perceived rewards. Or, is it the regained strength; from the energy within the load. I am clearly fed, nurtured by the act of taking the head into my mouth. I am rewarded for doing well. At least, it is how I experience what is happening.

Each time I push forwards, I am stimulated; each time I pull back, I am rewarded. I continue, until I have had my fill, when I feel my stomach is bloated by the content I had been digesting.

I pull back. I try again, again and again. The head is just not letting go, I am contracting too firmly around it. I feel the shaft stretch, more and more the harder I pull back. Minute by minute, I try to pull free.

The head is not coming out of my throat. I keep trying, again and again. As exciting as it may still be, I had had my fill.

In the end. I put in all I have, feeling the head slide out of my throat, entering my mouth. I can't part my lips, as much as I may want to. I climb up on the wall, using the strength of my legs; yet, it just is not enough.

One final trick, I slip in my fingers into my mouth, forcibly dilate my mouth, finally finding the head slipping out. I fell to the floor, the instant the head is clear of my mouth. It may take me a moment to fall, then I hit the floor with a thump.

“Ouch!” I exclaim, quietly.

As hard as I may or may have not fallen onto the floor, it is more in the surprice than in actual pain I had cried out. I bounce up at least an inch, as the coating of the floor is showing itself in depth.

“Okay, at least I have been fed; as strange and unorthodox as the method may have been!” I ponder.

I open the door and step out into the room from which I had come, once more. Nothing had changed. The bed is exactly as I had left it. A clear silicon sheet on the bed, as if perfectly made.

I slowly tip-toe back to the bed with great care. Touching the floor is distracting me, by the stimulation I feel with each foot fall.

As I arrive at the bed, I sit down and swing my feet back up onto the bed and lie down. Resting comfortably on the top of the bed, closing my eyes for a moment.

Once the head had slipped out of my mouth, my lips and throat are no longer contracting, yet, I am still feeling the excitement and wet feeling in my mouth. My lips throbbing.

“This will make it hard to speak, with any level of articulation; if my lips are contracting all the time!” I point out, making an effort to articulate the words as clearly as I can.

“If she is coming back, any time soon; this would be the perfect time, I imagine!” I ponder, giggling at the idea.

She did not come back. Not now and not the next hour. Just as she did not come back any of the following hours, either.

I mainly rest, lying on my back, on the bed. Nothing much else to do. My feet are far too sensitive for me to chancing it and walk around. I have nowhere to go, unless the door is open; it is not, I knew it.
In the end, I grew tired of waiting, just as I grew hungry. I wended up, walking over the floor to the wardrobe, sliding the door up and stepping right in. I closed the door behind me and walked over to the inner wall and had my fill.

Just like the first time; I kiss the tip of its head and push my head forwards, feeling my lips part. The head plops and I push forwards; pushing as far as I could, just for the one squirt. I pull back, pushing forwards once more. Push and pull, push and pull; a new squirt is the reward, each and every time.
While I have not had any orgasm yet, I guess I do feel fine.

“I still do appear to remain in my excited state, as if the tubes had just been extracted. No matter how long time is passing, I am not reverting, and no sign of it is even initiating the reversal!” I ponder.

“Will I ever return to be the regular girl I was before!” I exclaim in irritation.

“No, I fear that is far too late; your chance to revert has come and gone!” she is pointing out; as the door slides up and she is entering the room.

I look up, in sudden shock, of the intrusion in my loneliness.

“You are perfect, the way you are, right now; possibly short of the one item, your nipples!” she is pointing out.

“Since I seem to have no choice, what did you have in mind?” I snap back.

She had pushed me up against the wall, spread my arms and pressed the palms of my hands onto the wall. Even if I wear no gloves or any of her other fetishes, my hands are firmly stuck; I can not pull either of my hands free, even if I had just fed and feel perfectly rested right now.

For the sake of the argument; I need you to wear a top, and I like you to enjoy lactating, which is requiring your nipples to grow substantially!” she is pointing out.

“Oh, is that all? Why did you not just say so; we could have had it done and dealt with in a minute or two!” I point out.

“Yes, I guess we could; but what is the fun in that?” She explains, giggling in my suggestion.

Of course, it is not so much that the suggestion is amusing to her; it is just that she is enjoying to see me squirm and to struggle through the process. The observation seems to be a key element in her methodology. Even if she is not standing over me, giggling at me and actually stare at my situation for most of the time.

If I am the first, last or anywhere in between, I have no idea, and she is not saying. Had it changed anything, if she had told me? Assuming she was telling me the truth, if I had asked.

“Okay, here goes your world!” she points out; as she is reaching in between my legs and insert the anal tube into my rear orifice.

I clearly feel the distinct sensation of the clear tube entering me from behind; just as I feel the profound effect the tube is having on me, directly upon insertion.

She is producing my vaginal tube, matching the previously inserted anal tube; stretching her hand in between my legs and inserting the vaginal tube.

The tube slips in and plops, riveting itself firmly and undeniably into place. I am soaking wet and eternally slippery, for as long as the tube is inside me.

“Now, that was not so bad; was it?” she inquire.

While these tubes are not leaving as strong an impression of pinching my orifices, they do leave immensely stronger effects upon me.

“I can't complain, this far!” I readily agree.

“Good!” she merely responds; as she is producing the third and final tube for me.

She is reaching for my face, slipping the tube in between my lips. The tube is riveting itself as it plops, instantly leaving me utterly and completely mute.

“Oh!” I realize.

These tubes come with instantaneous and irrefutable effects. My lips turned into solid, metallic bloody red rubber; while the effect reaches not just my mouth, but all the way down my throat.

“Does this mean; that my entire vagina and womb, are rubber now?” I ponder; “And where does that leave my rump?” I continue.

“Since you have accepted my original tubes, it is safe for you to be exposed to the stronger and more complete once!” she is explaining.

“Does this mean; I am even more sensitive, and excitable than before?” I ponder.

“I assume you want me to demonstrate the effect of your new tubes!” she giggles.

“Why not, what do I have to lose? As if I could stop you, even if I wanted to?” I ponder.

She is producing the new gloves she had intended for me to wear. I feel her slipping in the index finger of her right hand, she had just extended. As the finger is slipping in, the vacuum the suction cup had created evaporates, like dew in the desert sun.

Once she pulled my hand free, she is slipping the glove onto my hand. She liberates my other hand, before she is helping me putting the glove on.

“If you would be so kind, as to slip your top on, please!” she exclaims, as she is producing the garment.

I readily accept the extended garment, slipping it down over my head and gives it a few tentative tugs in order to make sure it is fitting just right.

Once I had slipped the top on, she is taking my right hand, licking the sensitive touch pad of each finger for a minute, starting with my thumb and continuing down to my pinkie finger. She is letting go of the hand, before she is grabbing the other hand, continuing from the thumb and all the way down to my pinkie finger.

With each finger she is licking I gasp inwardly, incapable of vocalizing myself in the least. Of course, she can clearly see what I feel on my face.

“Okay, I take it; you approve of the changes!” she merely points out.

“I think it will take me quite some time, to get used to this!” I realize with horrified fascination.

It is not, that I did not enjoy the sensations; it is just that the sensations are far too strong and intense for me to handle, right now.

She is once more pressing me up against the wall, making me spread my arms wide. I feel her pressing my hands against the wall behind myself, just as I feel the suction grabbing the smooth wall behind me. I am helplessly stuck, the palms of my hands sticking to the wall. She had not used much pressure, but my hands stick to the wall, stronger than I can pull free.

“How about, you try to pull your right and left hands free, in order?” she inquire.

While I already know, I could not pull either of my hands free; I still try to give her a performance, only to realize it only sucked the palms of my hands in even further.

“Oh!” I realize.

“There; I take it; I have your full and undivided attention, now!” she exclaims.

I merely nods in response, knowing there is no point in resisting her, at this point.

She goes down on all fours, picking up my right foot and laps the soul of my foot, from the heel, then continuing toe by to from the largest to the smallest. While the soul of my foot is soaking, I feel the sensations she is eliciting.

She is repeating the process, licking the soul of my left foot. She continues with each toe in turn, from the largest to the smallest.

Once she is done, licking my feet, she is pushing herself up to standing; before she is once more approaching me. She is pressing her lips onto mine in a kiss, parting her lips and licks my lips for about a minute.

I distinctly feel her tongue slipping into my mouth, as I am parting my lips just enough for her tongue to comfortably slip in. My tongue is slipping into her mouth, mirroring her motions in turn. She is licking the inside of my mouth, inch by inch; until she is reaching all the way in, at which time she is pushing forwards and I feel the tip of her tongue sliding down my throat. Just as expected, her tongue is slippery and soaking wet just like the previous times.

Her tongue slowly probes inch by inch down my throat, until she can stretch no further. She is teasing me for a moment, before she is pulling back, only to stop just short and stretch forth her tongue once more. Like this, her tongue slides up and down, in and out.

With each time her tongue slides in and out, my throat is contracting just a little bit more; knowing her throat is contracting just as much.

After a few minutes, I feel a new contraction, almost as if I was having an orgasm. The effect comes back, again and again, harder and harder, faster and faster. Why do I relish in this, and why does it feel so good to me? Does it feel just as good for her? I could but asume it did. Why else would she make the effort of doing all this to me?

As I feel her tongue withdraw, as she is pulling out; I can but read joy and excitement in the touch of her lips.

As she is pulling back, she is bending over enough, just to reach my right nipple. First now, I realize; just how large and sensitive she made my nipples out to be. She is parting her lips, her tongue slips out and he is licking the tip of my nipple for about a minute, before she moves further and licks the side of my nipples and finally does kiss the tip of my nipple.

Her lips part further, just enough to permit her to take the entire nipple into her mouth. I feel her sucking, while she keeps licking the tip of my nipple.

“Oh, oh!” I ponder; as I realize just how sensitive she made me.

“Oh, oh!” I exclaim, inwardly, with each squirt she is given, as she sucks harder and teasingly laps away at the nipple.

For a moment, she stops licking and sucking; just before she is nibbling softly, then gives the nipple a good bite. She sucks harder, as she is pulling back, holding the nipple in as long as she could possibly manage.

The nipple finally slips out of her mouth, before she moves over to the left nipple. I feel her tongue caressing the tip of my nipple, then out and further down; before she is kissing the tip of the nipple.

She is sucking, inciting me to lactate, giving her a firm squirt of my milk. In the end, she stops sucking and nibble at the tip of my nipple. Then she is taking a good bite; before she is sucking and then pulls back. I feel the nipple soaking wet and slipper, as it slips out of her mouth.

She kneels before me and places her lips squarely on my orchid, encircling the petals of my orchid with her lips. Licking each petal in turn, nibbling and tentatively tugging at each petal in turn. She slips her tongue into my orchid, slowly lapping at it from the inside and out, pushing further and further inside. I feel her tongue reaching as far as she could reach, before she pulls back, only to stop an inch short of actually pulling out. Now she pushes in and pulls out, pushes in and pulls out. In and out, in and out; back and forth, back and forth. I am growing wet and wetter; soaking as I find myself contracting firmly around her tongue.

Then it hits me and I have the first actual orgasms. I have another and another; harder and harder, faster and faster.

While her tongue is sliding in and out, I feel her hands on my rump, sliding back and into the rear orifice. While I knew I could not prevent it, I still contract as best I could. She is still slipping inside and takes a good, firm grip; before she is pulling her hands apart and thus dilating me.

The further apart she is pulling her hands, as she is holding on, the more I resist her, but she still is pulling me up as far as she pleases. It is, as if my rump had been made out of highly elastic rubber, rather than being a part of me, yet I feel her fingers and her pulling efforts.

After a few minutes, I am starting to breathe hard, as my heart is pounding. My breath grows laboured, while I feel my heart pounding hard and fast.

She is keeping up her efforts, lapping away at my orchid; as the tongue is slipping in and out. While I am not directly aware of when it happens, I peak, under her loving and teasing caresses.

She lets go of my rump, after she permitted me to contract. She is pulling back, pulling her tongue out of me, raising to her feet and gazing at me, where I stand before her.

“One small detail, just for the fun of it!” she pronounces, stepping forwards.

She is extending the index finger of her right hand, slipping the finger in under the palm of my right hand. I feel the vacuum collapsing and she is pulling my hands free. She continues to slip the finger in under the palm of my left hand, forcing the vacuum to collapse.

Once my hands are liberated from their place on the wall, she is turning me around, pulling my hands togeter, as my fingers interlace, as if in prayer. With my hands firmly together in one hand, she slowly moves my hands down and presses them into my rump.

I feel my hands plop, before she is letting go of me. She is carrying me back to my bed and deposits me gently on the top of the bed.

“I hope you enjoyed the experience, for I certainly did!” she points out.

I notice that she is walking to the door, opens it and walks out, before she is closing the door behind herself. I know the door is locked, even if I can not see her locking it, or hear the sounds to the effect.

“While she did make the moment pleasurable and exciting, she still did leave me in quite an embarrassing position!” I ponder, groaning inwardly, while incapable of voicing the dismay.

I try to pull my hands out, but my rump is too tight for me to manage to pull my hands out. I can't pull them apart, more than I could pull them out; or off of the wall just a moment before. I am stuck trapped, where she left me.

”That should teach her, her proper place; as the toy for me to play with, as I please!” she giggles to herself, after she had closed the door behind herself.

“I will just leave her to cook, under the pressure of the excitement I incited!” she continues, as she is walking down the hall, to her private chamber.

I had been out for hours at a time, leaving her more than enough time to move me out of what had been my home., There is no telling; where I am now, or where she had left me.

“These tubes are absolutely perfect; the brilliant design and the mind-boggling strength they contain!” she ponders.

Of course, these tubes had been designed for fun and play; to put a smile on the face of the user and wearer. Maybe the creator had failed to realize, just how powerful she had made these items. The design is indeed forcibly putting the smile on your face, but by means of coercion. You choose the tube or tubes to compliment yourself, aiding you to reach a goal of your choosing

Mistress had indeed a goal for herself, for her joy and excitement. Had she picked the right tubes for herself, or had the power of her tubes corrupted her?

“These tubes are divine, gorgeous to play with!” she ponders.

She had found and tried out the last of the anal tubes, allowing her to clomax only when she chose to. The vaginal tube, eternally soaking wet, to the point of being flooded with the most delicious, thick nectar passing for lubrication. The oral tube is leaving her mouth as if coated with a thin layer of clear rubber; her lips metallic bloody red in an inviting, warm smile.

She had managed to learn to speak, even with the latest of her oral tubes firmly in place. The unexpected elasticity of the tongue had been a delightful surprise, when she realized; just how much fun she could have with it.

“Maybe a cup of tea is what I need?” she told herself, heating the water to the boiling point.

“Green tea, seems like the obvious choice!” she is pondering, as she is opening the small cabinet containing the selection of green tea blends.

“Sin, sin, sin; cinnamon with lemon and lime, seems the choice of my day!” she exclaim, after a minute of consideration.

She pours the scolding hot water into a kettle, watching the water filter through the fresh tea leaves and flavoured herbs.

“Just a slice of iced lemon should do it!” she purrs; as she is looking forwards, to sip the tea she was just preparing, for herself.

The icy slice is fizzing eagerly in the near boiling brew, as it hits the surface. Cool lent to the lemon, lovingly absorbed by the slice. The moment observed, and appreciated; for all it had to offer, and all the joy crafted.

“The cup of tea always soothes my nerves and brings me back to life!” she ponders, as the instant passes.

Had I been there with her, I would have been amazed; by her still keeping that tube in her mouth, even while enjoying her tea. It had by no means fused to her, and she had never struck me as being addicted to the item.

Is the tube making her more sensitive, or less? She is still having it in.

She lifts the cup to her lips, thematically blowing of a puff of steam, from over the cup; before she is taking the first sip, slowly and thoroughly enjoying herself and the brew she prepared for herself.

Once the puff of steam had been banned from the space just above the cup; the brew is ready for her to drink and enjoy. She just meditate upon each sip, as she is drawing in the liquid into her mouth, each time, then exhale, as she swallows.

Once, twice, thrice; she is refilling her cup. Each time, blowing the puff of steam off of the cup; before she can have the first and consecutive sips and enjoy her brew.

Three cups, is all she has the time for. Three cups is a ceremony, three cups is meditation; the three cups absorb the corries and problems of her life in the process. She had the three cups, she is moving on, as if everything before she poured the brew in her cup never happened.

No commitment abandoned, all promises are kept; yet the price is paid and she is moving on.

The water remaining in the boiler is poured out, the cup is washed of swiftly; before each are put back into their proper places. She leaves her kitchen and continue her day.

“I could leave her where she is, or I could tend to her immediately!” she points out, to the shadow following her under the light in the ceiling.

“Yes, of course you can!” the shadow responds, while most likely merely in her mind.

“I think I will just have a nap, while I am thinking it over!” she continues, as she is walking to her bed room.

“An enlightened decision!” the shadow confirms.

She carefully slides the door to her bed room to the right and enters the room; quietly stepping in and closes the door behind herself.

There is no wardrobe, just as there is no window in the room. There is but her bed on which to lie down and rest. She slowly mounts the clear silicon sheet remaining taut between the three walls. She lies down, resting; closing her eyes and falls asleep.

All worries washed away, by the one ceremony of tea. Nothing more required out of her, she needs nothing more. Days, months and years of practice in the one act.

Within the domain, she is the absolute, nothing crosses her, and she needs crossing none. She had already converted you, before she bothers carrying you into her home.

There is no time, between the instant she is closing her eyes and when she is once more opening them. The world may beg to differ, but the world has no say in here.

She walks up, after the nap she had claimed. Now she is ready to take on, what she has before her. There is a girl waiting for her.

The walk from her bed room, to the room in which the girl is lying is short, just as is proper. Why have vast distances within your home? Why bother yourself to walk farther then you actually have to? There is a girl waiting, there is always a girl waiting; and there will always be another girl waiting for her.

She is pushing the door to my room and steps right in, closing the door behind herself. Once the door is closed, she is stepping up to my bed and stops before me. She is contemplating something, or just standing motionless for but the one moment.

While I am not currently aware of it, or her; she is turning me over onto my belly, before she is inserting her fingers around my wrists. As she is dilating my rear, my hands slowly slide out of my anal cavity. She is turning me over on my back, once more.

Rise and shine, my deer!” she exclaims.

My eyes flutter for a moment, before I open my eyes entirely. I am awake, enough for her purposes. At least, I can do as she told me.

I slide my feet to the side of the bed and sit up, carefully looking at her. After a moment, I manage to push myself up, without getting myself stuck to the sides of the bed.

“Right this way, I have a treat for you; then I will serve you your breakfast!” she is promising me.

I follow her, just a step behind; she stops, opens the door and continues. I follow her out of the room, closes the door behind myself. She opens another door and I follow her into the room.

“Please, have a seat!” she exclaims.

I merely nod quietly, before I follow the simple instruction. There is no point in refusing or delaying, at this point.

The seat has a pair of armrests, support of my back and thighs. The clear silicon the cushions were made out of is soft, yet firm and gives all the support I could possibly be asking for.

I notice how she is opening a recess in the wall. She extracts what is passing for a lip-stick or lip-gloss. She applies the gloss to my lips, with great care; before she is putting it back in the recess. Of course the gloss does nothing for e, but I remain silent. Not because I am mute, but because it is futile to protest.

She is uncapping the clear nail polish, before she is applying it to my nails; from the root of each nail and outwards, starting with the nail of my thumb and continues nail by nail. Right hand and left hand. Once she is done, she places the now capped vial back where she found it.

She is extracting another vial, uncapping it before she is picking up my right wrist with her left hand. Once she is having the palm of my right hand up; she is applying the clear gel to each of the touch pads, from the thumb to the pinkie finger.

She lets go of my right hands, before she is picking up my left hand, repeating the process of polishing each and every one of my still highly sensitive touch pads.

I am holding my right hand up before myself, with the palm towards my face, critically exploring exactly what she had done to my hands. At first, there is no change; yet, the gel is saturating the nails and the pads perfectly. I had felt the gel clearly, as she was polishing the touch pads. There is no denying that.

Of course, she soon painted the nails of my toes with the same lacquer, as she had painted my finger nails. She also applied the gel she painted my touch pads with to the soul of each of my feet; right and left, respectively.

She meticulously applied a clear gel to my nipples, right and left, starting at the tip, then the side and finally the areola. While I do feel the tip of the brush and the gel slowly being absorbed; that is all I can say, which does nothing for me at this time.

Now she is bending over, carefully applying a clear gel to each of the petals of my orchid. I guess there is a tingling sensation, not too different from when she was lapping at the petals last time. This is after all the very same tube in my vagina, as it had been back then.

I feel a soaking wet plug slide in, into my anal cavity. The wet sensation is spreading from the entrance and all the way in as far as the plug is reaching. While the head may be a full four inches, I can only imagine the shaft being a full foot in length. The gel of the plug is absorbed, until I am utterly and completely saturated. Now the plug starts to vibrate and is hearing up for a full minute, before it cools off and goes dead.

“There, now it is time for breakfast!” she declares, jubilantly.

I rise to my feet, following her out the door, to the next room. She is opening the door before her, while I close it after myself.

“I hope you do not mind; the room is lite!” she points out, while I nod at her words.

“I don't mind the light, but I am happy to have my breakfast!” I ponder, remembering that I had had nothing since the last night.

On the middle of the right wall, I can clearly see a plug, perfectly serviceable to feed me. This is what she taught me, and this is what I have come to look forwards to and appreciate.

I notice the two glistering black silhouettes on the wall, to the right and left of the plug. Coincidentally, the plug just so happens to be just right for me. A three inch head and an eight inch long shaft, in just the right eight over the floor.

“Your breakfast is served, just knock yourself out and have your fill!” she is explaining, as I apprise the plug before me.

Out of habit, I kiss the tip of the head, before I am licking it for a good long minute. It is quite wet, as I finish lapping at it and I push my head forwards, feeling the head slip in between my partially parted lips and plop distinctly.

The head is filling my mouth to the brim, while my lips are stretched taut around the shaft. I am stuck in place, but I have come to enjoy this part of the meal; as strange as it may sound, and as much as I would have doubted and denied it, had anyone asked me just a few days before she entered my room.

For a moment, I am just standing there. I place the palms of my hands on the black silicon markings on the wall, pressing down lightly; not entirely sure as to what my reaction would be, if I had pressed down any harder. With my fingers spread wide, I can finally have my meal.

I tentatively pull back, knowing full well what was to happen; just to make sure, showing her exactly how much I enjoy the meal. Once I had given her three tentative tugs, I push forwards; slowly and just enough to feel the head slide down my throat.

Pushing until I feel the root of the shaft under my lips, before I start pulling back.

There is a firm squirt of highly viscous liquid, just as I hit the end. I feel the liquid in my throat, just as I start to pull back. Now I pull almost all the way, making sure the head doesn't slip out of my throat.

Just an inch before the head would have slipped back into my mouth, I once more push forwards. Slow and steady; I push, then pull. Push and pull, push and pull; push and pull, push and pull. I enjoy the process, almost as much as if I had had sex. At least, I imagine I would.

Each time the head hit the end, I am rewarded with a new squirt. I enjoy it, continuing until I have my fill. I imagine, she is watching me from behind my back; maybe she is, or maybe she is not. I have no chance to know, I can't see anything directly behind me. There is no chance to bend my head to see anything more. Maybe I do not care, or maybe I prefer to imagine her ogling me over actually seeing and knowing she had been doing it.

My belly is full to the brim, swollen with all the nectar I had just consumed. While I could not taste it, but I am content.

I pull my head back, slowly; inch by inch, until the head is slipping into my mouth. Yet, now I can't pull any further, my lips refuse to part enough for me to pull out. The more I pull, the tighter my lips are contracting, stubbornly refusing me.

I try to pull my hands off of the wall, knowing only too well that the suction of the suction cups that are the palms of my hands would be far too strong for me to pull free. I may hot have pressed my hands down that for, but hard enough; for the suction to take hold, now holding me firmly in place.

I hear her giggle, just three steps behind me; while I struggle to get out of the grip, but to no avail.

“Compliment of the house, please enjoy your moment!” she merely coos in my right ear, excited over the sight before her.

“Of course, I could not deny her this little excitement; even if I had wanted to, but I guess I am taking some pleasure out of her standing in excitement behind my back too!” I ponder, trying a brave smile.

“If you like, I could help you out of the sticky situation!” she proclaims, cooing directly into my right ear.

Of course, it is always the right side, with her.

She is standing behind me, quiet and still; once, twice and thrice. The seonds ticking by me.

“Tick, tock; tick, tock! Tick, tock; tick, tock! Tick, tock; tick, tock!”

“Maybe that is just about enough, of the fun!” she now adds.

I feel her fingers sliding over my face and slipping in between my lips and the plug's shaft securely buried in my mouth. She is still, just waiting, teasing me.

Now she is pulling my lips apart, before I carefully pull back. Only this time, with her help; I can pull my head free, from the plug that just served me the meal, so eagerly and willingly.

“Oh, yeah; but of course, you will need my help with that!” she continues.

She is extending the index finger of her right hand, slipping the nail in under the palm of my right hand. I feel the vacuum evaporating, as air is pouring in; thus lessening the suction, permitting me to pull my right hand free.

“There, how's that?” she coos in my right ear.

I just nod in gratitude, extending he index finger of my right hand; slipping the nail in under the palm of my left hand.

“Congratulations!” she merely exclaims, as I pull my left hand free from the wall.

I just smile, back at her; still mute, thus incapable of making a single noise.

“Let me help you with that, I would love to hear you express yourself, once more!” she points out, with utter certainty.

Of course, she knows far too much of how I feel and how I react, to worry about what I would say.

She is extending the index finger of her right hand; slipping the finger into my mouth, pinching the tube and carefully extracting it. Of course, I am still mute; after this long, with these powerful tubes inserted.

She slips in the finger into my orchid, pinching the tube and extracts it. I feel the tube resisting, stretching out an inch or two. Finally, it still does give in and lets go of me. The mark still in place; it had been in me and changed me once and for all.

With her left hand, she is pulling the plug out of me from behind, before she is slipping the index finger of her right hand into my rear and pinches the tube; pulling it out, effortlessly. Even if the tube is resisting for but a moment.

With the tubes out of me; she is pulling the top up, and off of my chest.

“Your hands, please!” she is urging me, and I reach my hands forwards.

Once I reach my hands forwards, she is pulling the gloves off of my hands; right and left, respectively. She bends over, I lift my right foot; she is pulling the sock off of my foot, and I place the foot back onto the floor. I lift my left foot, she pulls the sock off of the foot and I find myself nude as I place the foot onto the floor.

While the mark of her actions is still with me, I am once more nude. She stands before me, giggling; ogling me, as I look into her eyes.

“I left a gift for you, in your room!” she points out.

“Oh!” I ponder, nodding and smiling.

“These are brand new, and I expect them to fit you perfectly!” she explains, just before I walk to the door.

I slide up the door ad steps out, close the door and continue to my room where I stop and open the door. I step in, close the door. The tubes are indeed exactly where she had said they would be.

“Had she made them or had them crafted, just for me?” I ponder.

I walk over to my bed. I pick up the anal tube and hastily inserts it; with as much care and reverence as I could master. There is a distinct pinch, just as the tube plops. I also feel my skin grow stiff as I insert it for the tube to slip in easier, or so I would assume.

Now I continue, picking up the second tube; slipping it into my vagina, feeling exactly the same effects as I had experienced just a moment before. The tubes are identical in style, just that they are fitted for my respective orifices.

I pick up the oral tube, slipping it in between my lips, feeling the pinch, just as it is plopping.

There is a pair of pasties, in the place of a complete top. I pick them up, with my right and left hand, respectively; pressing them onto my nipples, feeling them slip on, just as easily as if they had been tubes plopping. The sensations are exactly the same, even if it is the nipples slipping into the pasties, rather than the pasties slipping into the nipples; as it had been with the tubes I just inserted.

I pick up the right sock, lift my foot up and slip the sock onto my foot; giving the sock a few tentative tugs, assuring myself that it is indeed on just right. I put my foot down, pick up the other sock and lift my left foot up; slipping the sock onto the foot, giving it a few tentative tugs just for good measure. Of course the socks would fit perfectly, I would have been shocked, if they would not.

Now I pick up the right glove with my left hand, before I slip my right hand into it; giving it a few tentative tugs in order to make sure it is on just right. From there, I pick up the left glove with my right hand, slipping the hand into the glove; giving it a few tentative tugs, in order to make it fit just perfect.

Of course, now I am wearing the entire set, which is an exhilarating sensation all of its own. The tubes had been crystal clear, when I found them; I could not see the intended colour, before they are on or in. Now my anal tube is a glistering black, lending the orifice the beauty of a crater. It is just as firm and tight as I could possibly have hoped for; lending me all the powers I had come to expect from it.

My vaginal tube is a bright pinkish cerise, but semi transparent, matching the pasties on my nipples. The orchid looks exactly as it had with the previous tube in place; just as my nipples are firm as solid rubber and nicely sensitive.

My lips are metallic bloody red, glistering in the light. Otherwise, they are as I had been expecting them to be.

I lift up my right hand before my eyes; carefully examining it. My nails are as before, the sensitive touch pads are there, matching the nipples in hue. I even have the silicon white, smooth suction cups where the palms of my hands are.

While I could stand on my feet as I had before she came into my life; I am reluctant to do so, considering how sensitive the souls of my feet are. I also find it challenging to stand flat on the floor, considering how my pose and posture had been changed over the duration of the days with her in my life.

I lift my right hand up, extending the index finger. Now I slip the finger into my mouth and pinch the tube and manage a firm grip. Pulling it out, just to have a look at it and confirm that I actually could. After a moment of examination, I slip it in once more.

“Oh, they truly are mine!” I ponder.

“They truly are, indeed!” she points out, as she sneak up on me from behind.

I had failed to hear her, as she opened and closed the door behind herself. Maybe I had been preoccupied, as I was examining the tube at the time.

“Thank you!” I exclaim; not really realizing that I actually spoke, before she is smiling brightly at me.

It may have been forced and poorly articulated, for the first time; and it will take me a while to get the hang of speaking once more. The original tube had made me mute; now I will need this tube, in order to speak again. It is strange, but I guess I just will have to get used to this too.

“A limited measure of freedom and control. It is not quite what you had back then, but it is still more than you had before I came into your life!” she acknowledges, giggling at my effort.

“I am still welcome to stay and live with you? I don't think I could get used to solid food now; after I have enjoyed, to feed in the closet, in my room!” I point out; knowing I am right, I can't get used to solid food, and I doubt I could get anything the likes of what I got used to, here.

“Yes, but of course you are quite welcome!” she merely points out.

“Thank you!” I exclaim, in excitement.

Of course, I guess the room is mine, now; just as I was right, I couldn't leave her now.

--- The End ---

Book Three: Holy Cow

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Just like everyone else on the block, I have the garage in the basement, on the back of the house. I guess that is convenient, for my purposes.

The floor is laid with inch thick, black silicon; soft and comfortably squeaky. The original door has been swapped, for a double sliding door, wide enough for a regular car to avoid sticking out too much. The walls are laid with beech-wood panels and coated with clear silicon.

In place of the regular controls, I had a touchscreen or plaque installed, just a week ago. Now I will be able to open and close the doors at will, aside from turning the lights on and off by myself; though it is set, so that none but me can actually control it.

On the left side, from the entrance; there are two doors, with small rooms behind them. I had decorated these, in the same style as the garage; just included a few extra accessories, for what I had in mind. I intend to make the first into more of a box, or a bed room; while the second has been modified, including the equipment for milking a cow.

The door on the right side, leads to the actual basement, of the home where I live. I leave two small room on each side decorated in the same style as in the garage; thus making this into a kind of a home, within my home, but for special purposes. Maybe you should consider it my private dungeon.

With everything set up, for a nice weekend; I walk down the flight of stairs from my mundane, everyday home; down to the basement, where I had secretly hidden away that one special passion of mine

It’s just a regular flight of wooden stairs, nothing fancy. The floor is unpainted, grey concrete; how boring is that? I only have the utilities: the heater, the washing machine and the likes down here; no need to go down here often, or to show it of for anyone, or even my friends. This is just the basement of my home. I even made the effort, in crafting a chute for my clothes; so I can just dump them, in the night.

At the end of the corridor, there is a door; I open and walk into the short hall. Once I closed the door behind myself, I take the second right door, intent on changing into the suit I had prepared for myself. It had been here for a while now, not quite forgotten, though.

To the right, I have a wooden bench along the entire length of the wall, to the left is the wardrobe hidden and a more comfortable silicon coated sofa in the innermost corner in the room.

The crystal clear door is coated with mate, black silicon, equipped with an indent to hold on to, if and when pushing the sliding door to the side. For now, I leave the door open; it makes no difference either way.

Once in the room, I turn towards the built-in wardrobe and slide up the first door, carefully inspecting the content with eager interest.

There are not all that many items within; and they are not very large, either, of course. A set of tubes, in the center; the anal, the vaginal and the oral tube. There is also a full set of hoof extensions; knee-long stockings and elbow-length gloves; both highly detailed and very effeminate in nature. Finally, there is a top, with emphasis on the nipples; or in this case, teats. Everything had been chosen, with a specific goal in mind; that of temporarily becoming a cow, exploring and enjoying lactation in a moderately prolonged session.

All I need to do, is to strip naked and undress, before I slip the tubes in. Nothing much or fancy; if you look at it from the practical standpoint, but if you see what you could get it is very exciting to me. I had been meticulous and picked out a part at the time; to build up an ensemble for myself, with the exact details I had in mind. Not so much with the price in mind; but because I fear I will ruin the moment and the image for myself, if I made anything wrong.

Once I had examined the content of my wardrobe, and determined that it is all there as I had intended it; I start disrobing, by pulling the top up over my head and placing it on the first hanger and inserting the hanger in the wardrobe. Next I slip my skirt down and step out of it, before I place it onto the second hanger and insert that into the wardrobe. I slip out of my indoors shoes I wear when I go down to the basement and place these at the bottom of the wardrobe; before I pull my white cotton socks off of my feet and insert them into the right and left shoe respectively. Finally, I slip the panties down and step out of them, before I place them on the hanger under the skirt. With that; I am nude, and ready to go.

I extend my hand and reach for the clear anal tube, pulling it out and examining it momentary, before I slip it in from behind, slipping my hand in between my legs. I feel the slippery silicon slip in and plop distinctivelky. I give it a pinch and a tentative tug; it does not come out, just as I had expected and hoped.

With the tube firmly in place, I can slip a finger in effortlessly, then stretch out the entrance as I please. With that out of the way, I extend my hand and extract the vaginal tube, slipping it into my orifice, as intended. Once again, I feel the distinct plop as it has slipped into place. The riveting tube holds its own and refuses to slip out, unless I perform the trick required.

As I let go of the tube, I realize that I am strangely wet and excitable. I reach out and extend my hand to pick up the third and final tube, the oral muzzle tube. Slipping it in between my lips and feeling it plop.

“Okay, that was just as easy as I had expected!” I exclaim; “Now it is time, for the fun part!” I ponder.

Just a minute after the oral tube had been inserted, I am already mute. I may have known it was a minute, but the effect is much stronger than I could have been expecting. This is not the first time I am exposed to a tube like this; I had enjoyed it back then and expected to enjoy it now, I intend to do it too.

As I look at the reflection in the mirror, in the back of the wardrobe; I can clearly see my face, with the bovine muzzle of a cow. It is what I had expected, just as I had envisioned it when I chose it.

“Of course, a cow does not speak, I guess!” I realize.

Since all the tubes are firmly in place, I pull out the clear silicon top and slip it down over my head; giving it a few tentative tugs, in order to ascertain that it is fitting just right.

I pull out the clear silicon socks or hoof extensions and slip them on, right and left respectively. As I look down, I notice how my feet start to change pose and shape, before the cloven hooves are taking form right under me.

“Glistering, black; glorious, beautiful!” I ponder, observing the newly formed bovine hooves on which I am standing.

“Just the one, final detail, before I can get into the spirit of things, and enjoy myself to the full!” I continue.

Of course, a pair of elbow length, crystal clear silicon gloves. I extract them, slipping my hands in and give them a few tentative tugs, feeling how they slip into place. A moment later, I feel my hands slipping into shape. The cloven hooves forming at the end of what is now my new forelegs. Thankfully, the hooves are perfect matches of my hind hooves on which I am already standing.

“Guess it was for the best, I did not close the door to this room!” I ponder.

“It should be safe, to close that door now!” I ponder, sliding the door shut behind me.

With the door closed behind me, I go down on all four hooves; leaving my human self behind me, as I turn towards the next door. Just a few more steps, and I am at the door. The plaque is comfortably reachable to me, even as I am standing on all fours.

“Now is the moment, to see if I had set this up just right. If I can’t open the door, I am stuck in here and alone!” I ponder; before I am lifting my right fore-hoof up towards the glossy, black rubber surface of the plaque before me, beside the door.

“This does feel strange!” I ponder, as I press the hoof onto the surface, feeling it slip in just enough to make the point.

If I try to pull the hoof back now, I fear it would just hold on to me and keep me stuck in place. I spread my fingers or digits, thus making the door slipping up before me before I pull my hoof back and step right in.

While I turn my back on the door, it closes behind me soundlessly. Since I had managed to open the door, before; I need not worry, I have control of everything, just as I had set it up beforehand.

I continue from the door I had just left behind me, to the door out to the back of my home; facing the plaque, placing my right fore-hoof firmly, squarely in the middle and slowly adjust the light setting of the room, to make it more comfortable.

“There, now the light is just right for me!” I ponder.

I open the door behind my home, looking out; examining the surroundings, only to find them satisfactory. Once I had my fill of the view and the outside air; I close the door behind myself, satisfied for the moment.

“Okay, maybe I should rest, for a moment!” I ponder.

I trot over to the door of my bed room and slide the door up; before I step in and close the door behind myself. I lift my right hoof up to the plaque and dim down the light. Once the light is low, I move over to the inner corner and lie down; finding a comfortable spot and close my eyes.

While my eyes are remaining closed, I enjoy a restful and comforting slumber. While the rest only lasts for an hour, but that is quite enough; I feel rested and ready to face my day.

My sister had asked me to come over, so I could not just ignore her. It isn't all that much of an effort, going to her home, where she lives.

The front door is closed and securely locked, but that's the way it should be. I pull out my spare key to the door, unlock the door and let myself in, closing the door behind me and lock it.

The room is quiet, so I walk over to the kitchen, only to find a note on the table.

“I am in the basement!” the message reads, signed “Ms. Moo”.

“Oh!” I pronounce; “Guess she wants me to see her in the dungeon!” I ponder.

I walk out of the kitchen, to the door of the basement. As I open the door, I see the mundane flight of stairs.

“I could have painted these for her!” I ponder; “But if she doesn't ask me to, I should lave it the way she wants it!” I continue.

At the end of the corridor, I see the newly installed plaque, so I place the palm of my right hand on it and spread my fingers wide. The door slides up before me and I step in; the door closes behind me and I continue into the hall of her dungeon.

I take the first room on my right. The door slides up without a problem, so I step right in and close the door behind myself.

The first I noise is a wooden bench on the left, then I see a wardrobe behind the door. Of course, this would be my changing room; where I change into the attire for the occasion. She must have prepared an ensemble for me to wear, during my stay in her dungeon.

“What could she possibly have dreamed up, for me to wear?” I ponder, as I open the door to the wardrobe in order to examine what she had prepared for me.

“Oh, but of course!” I exclaim.

A pair of ultra short, crystal clear silicon gloves and a pair of matching socks. A set of three tubes to be fitted Analy, vaginally and orally.

“A bit scant, but this is after all her dungeon, not mine!” I ponder.

There is a seven and a half inch, crystal clear, rubber egg; on the bottom of my wardrobe.

“That must be for her! She wants me to help her inserting it, for her!” I ponder, as I look at the large item.

I pull my white cotton top up over my head, before I place it on the first hanger and leave it in the wardrobe.

I step out of my shoes, place them on the floor of the wardrobe; before I slip my white tube socks off of my feet, right and left; before I slip them into my shoes for later.

Now I slip my pink denim skirt down, step out of it and place it on the next hanger; before I slip my white cotton panties off of me and place them under the skirt on the second hanger.

"Okay, I am nude; I guess it is time to try out what she left for me in the hopes that they actually do fit me!” I ponder.

I extract the skin tone anal tube, reach in between my legs and insert the tube. I feel the slippery and sleek material slip in effortlessly, and finally plop. As the tube plop, the riveting effect is pinching me firmly, but I ignore the sensation for now; in the hopes that it would fade out, soon. I feel no other, outstanding or adverse effect from the inserted anal tube.

Now I extract the vaginal tube, reach down between my legs and insert the tube. Just like the anal tube, it slips in only too easily and plop. Once in place, I feel a new pinch, but it soon fades out of my conscious awareness.

I extract the oral tube, and insert it into my mouth between slightly parted lips. While there is a momentary pinch, as the tube plops, I soon realize just how different this tube is. My lips part slightly, as they contract. I feel my throat contracting completely, leaving me to breathe through my nose.

“That was odd; quite the strong effect!” I realize, utterly incapable of speech.

I guess I had forgotten to check what the tubes were supposed to do, as well as how to extract them, once I am done.

I lift my right foot, as I extract the sock with my left hand; slipping my foot into it and change pose in order to continue. Now I extract the left sock with my right hand, lifting the foot up and slipping it into the sock. I notice how the socks initially stretch, before they right themselves after a few tentative tugs.

I extract the right glove and slip it on my hand; before I extract the left glove and slip that on as well. Inch long, semi square, crustal clear nails from the final joint of each finger. Bright cerise, highly sensitive touch pads under each finger, from the joint to just under the nail. I also have a silicon white suction cup, covering the palm of each hand.

“Curious, but exciting!” I ponder, still incapable of voicing my thoughts.

As I look down, I realize that I am standing on the tips of my toes, while my posture had changed to accommodate for it.

“I should check, if she is expecting my services, just yet!” I ponder.

Since I had dressed up for the job, I could as well explore the rest of her dungeon. The door to her changing room is open, but there is nothing to see. She is clearly not there, now.

I continue to the door at the end of the hall, facing the plaque, identical to the one I used to open the door to the hall. I place the palm of my right hand squarely on the glistering black rubber of the plaque, spreading my fingers and open the door.

As I step through, the door closes behind me, quietly. I can see that the main space of her dungeon is decorated in the same style as I had seen before, nothing new to see. The room I basically empty and deserted.

There are two rooms to small rooms on the other side, just as there is a new plaque by the large door to the back of her home. I walk over to the first of the smaller doors. I open it, only to see that it is empty.

“This must be the room in which she intends for me to milk her!” I realize, giggling.

I move over to the next door, behind which she is resting. I open the door, before I enter the room. Just as I had expected, she is lying on the floor of the room.

“Do I wake her up, before I insert the egg?” I ponder.

Does she want me to insert the egg vaginally or anally?” I ask myself, while I look at her, where she is lying.

She clearly had dressed up as a cow; so I guess I should treat her as such, now. Isn't that what she had asked me for, when she wanted me to milk her?

“As a cow, there is but the one viable option; even if she is still looking like the girl, I formerly knew as my sister!” I ponder.

She is still my sister, just in the form of a cow. Not an actual bovine internally, but she is still looking like a cow.

“If I could pose her for what I have to do, I should be able to perform the task I came to do!” I ponder.

If I could just bend her legs in under herself and position her on the proper distance from a wall? Placing the egg beside her is only too easy. Turning the pointy end towards her is just as easy.

Now I manage to part her legs and pull in her knees under her, before I aim her rear end towards the egg. I slide her closer to the egg; stopping only, as I see the egg actually touching her rump.

“For a cow, she is a tail short!” I realize, but I could let that slide.

I stand with one foot on each side of her, over her waist; bending forwards, placing my hands on her rump. Now I slide my fingers in, grabbing a firm grip and slowly pull her up and dilate her. I tentatively try to push her body forwards, while I maintain her rump open and dilated. The egg is slowly sliding inside, as I push forwards.

For a moment, I fear I would wake her up, of that the egg would slip out of alignment; yet, she remains still and relaxed, while the egg slide in, inch by inch. In about a minute or two, I can clearly see the egg sliding in and start to plop. I am slowly letting go, letting her do the final push. The egg soon slide all the way in as she is contracting around the egg.

With little to no further guidance on my part, the egg is finding its final, comfortable resting place inside her; where it can remain, without bothering my sister more than a regular pregnancy would have done.

With the task of inserting the egg into her is complete, I turn her over on her back and help her stretch out into a more comfortable pose; before I walk out of the room and close the door behind me.

“This is what she asked me to do, I can only hope it proves to be as she envisioned it!” I ponder, as I step over to the second door.

As I enter the room, it I decorated in the same style as the rest of her dungeon.

There is also a chair for me to sit on, aside from the two tubes with large cps for her nipples or teats to fit into. I would have to admit, her nipples are much larger than I recall; quite exciting, if I can say so myself.

The floor is ultra smooth, polished to a high finish; glistering in even the spares light in the room. The walls are fairly glossy, for the apparent wood it had been laid with.

I have a closet by the door, within which I can find a few buckets; stainless steel, wood, plastic. Whichever I chose to fancy.

“I think I will enjoy assisting her as her milk-maid!” I realize.

“The clear plastic bucket seems more to my likings, even if I appreciate the care she put into offering me these choices!” I ponder.

“Oh, wonder what is behind that!” I ponder, as I notice what looks like a locker.

There is no place for a key, so I will just have to push it open. Of course, there is a plug shaped almost like a penis; with just a symmetrical head and a shaft.

“More fun to play with, without all the pointless and intrusive details!” I ponder.

I notice my sister entering the room, but pretend to sleep and ignores her presence.

She is moving me around and posing me up, for what I had asked her to do. It is fun and strangely exciting; to have her performing the task, I gave her.

Her hands touching my rump, sliding over the skin; slipping inside and permitting her to get a good grip. I feel myself being spread open and dilate; for the large egg to enter me.

"Oh, oh!” I ponder.

"That does feel good!” I realize.

The sleek egg is sliding in with eager anticipation. As my sister is letting go, I find myself pushing the egg in, the rest of the way. I had not anticipated it to be this easy. I had expected some minor complications, with her inserting the egg for me without any communication between the two of us.

Guess I had not expected the tubes to mute me, and not quite this effectively. I can only imagine, she had not been prepared for this either.

She was kind enough, to move me over on my back, and leave me in a more relaxed position; before she walked out of the room, leaving me to rest in peace.

My belly is clearly extended, with my womb filed up by the egg she inserted into me. I feel it pressing out and the weight it is carrying with it. This is a new, strange sensation, I have no experience of this; since I have never been pregnant or had an egg inserted. I may or may not have been playing with smaller eggs, for the fun of it; nothing like this.

The egg is not too heavy, I had after all chosen it myself; I would never have chosen it, if I thought it would be too heavy to carry. If it had been heavy, it would not have been either fun or pleasant in the first place.

The one drawback, of being a cow; I can't reach myself, so I can no longer stimulate myself for the fun and pleasure of it. Good thing, my sister agreed to help me out, now I don't need to worry. She is always the helpful one, so I did not worry about her helping me out here.

After slow and careful deliberation, I collect my hooves under me and rise up on all fours, before I start to move towards the now closed door before me.

As I open the door, I step out and continue towards the next door; behind which my sister, the milk-maid is waiting for me.

The second door slides up, only too easily and I step right in, moving into the room and close the door behind me. As I had expected, she is indeed waiting for me. With the tube firmly in her mouth, she is mute; just like I am, as a cow. I had chosen the tubes myself, to design the perfect scenario for me to explore and enjoy. A cow does not understand what the milk-maid says; neither do I understand what she says now.

She is looking at me, as I move into position.

“There, I hope you will enjoy my services!” she merely ponder, without parting her lips and voice her thought.

“I am sure I will, I asked you to be my milk-maid!” I ponder, in response to the unspoken words.

Once I am in position, she is pulling out the cups and places them on my teats. I feel the tightness around what had passed for my now heavily enlarged nipples, these cups had been designed for the purpose. A moment later, I feel the tingling of the vacuum building up; then another and different tingling sensation of an electric buzz, before I feel the squirt of my milk flowing out.

Of course, the milk is not white, but clear; just as it is not thin as water, but thick and slippery as if it had been a lubricant. I do not see, or feel it; where I stand, while the milk pours down the clear rubber tube and out into a tank.

“Oh, oh!” I ponder; “This is exactly as good as I had imagined it!” I realize.

“Did she need the egg and pregnancy for this; or is that just a convenient rouse, giving her the image of what she made herself out to be, for the scenario?” my sister, the milk-maid ponders, as she is watching me.

“I think my cow needs her feed, I just hope she enjoys what I prepared for her!” my sister ponders.

She had seen the feeder, of course. She had examined the room, while I lay in the other room and rested. Now she is exposing the plug, carefully calling me forwards. I take a step forwards, pushing my muzzle onto the tip of the plug. The head soon slides into my mouth eagerly. I push forwards, just as the instructions had explained.

I feel the head filling my mouth. I push forwards, feeling it slide down my throat. I pull back an inch, then push forwards. With each push, I am rewarded with a solid, firm squirt of the thick, slippery liquid. I feel the head vibrating, teasing me to continue; pushing and pulling back, over and over.

It is just a little squirt, as stiff as it may hit the inner wall of my throat. Had it been more, I could not have continued for very long; since I would have had my fill as my stomach is filing up too fast. I still do move my head back and forth slowly, as to prolong the moment as much as I possibly could.

“Good cow, you're doing quite well!” my sister ponders; as she sees the clear liquid flowing down the tube, while I am eating the meal provided for me.

“Tick, tick, tick! Tick, tick, tick!” a noise is heard in the background, indicating my performance.

Each tick, representing a predefined volume of milk. Each tick is coming in a steady flow, as if it had been the tick on a heart monitor at the nearest hospital. The patient is doing well.

My sister is examining the figures, explaining exactly how much milk I have produced.

“If she is going by bovine standards, I am expecting a gallon from her!” she ponders.

“Did I forget to check, how much I would produce?” I ponder; “I certainly did make sure I got the milk I was hoping for!” I continue.

Going by the clear liquid through the tube, it is neither Human, nor Bovine milk; but rather a clear lubricant, just as I had requested.

“While the label could not define the exact quality, of the lubrication I produce; they did state that it is up to me, just how good it is going to be!” I ponder.

“Exactly how long, can I keep lactating, in a single session; and how long will it take, until I will feel the urge to return to the room?” I ponder.

I had taken a position, just right, for me to enjoy the plug installed for me to feed. I can't withdraw entirely, but I could stop moving my head. I am still not having my fill, so I keep sucking in order to have just one more squirt and then one more.

The milk-maid is clearly enjoying the sight, of me standing her; lactating and feeding. I could not blame her, considering that I had asked her to help me out here. As a matter of fact, I enjoy how she is ogling me and the expression on her face. I could but imagine, she is feeling much the same way as I feel right now.

“She is quite beautiful, where she is standing, lactating and feeding; while she is clearly pregnant now!” my sister realizes, as she is ogling me.

She is such a beautiful cow, I am fortunate to have her to care for and watch over!” I ponder, as I am watching my sister.

Being a milk-maid is more fun, than I had been expecting; when she originally asked me, but I had accepted her offer. I am glad I had accepted the offer, and not just because she is my sister.

“What if I took on the responsibility of another cow, or even several more cows? While it may become a full-time job, it would still be fun and enjoyable! The question is; will my sister accept, me taking on other cows on the side?” I ponder.

The question is for later, right now I have a cow to care for. Am I ready, to take up the responsibility for more cows, if I chose to find another one?

Eventually, the milk is running dry; there is nothing more, running down the tube. It is my responsibility, to liberate her teats from the cups. I kneel on the side of her, gripping both cups in a firm grip, tentatively giving the cups a gentle tug. The cups initially refuse to come free; but soon gives in with a distinct sucking noise, while her teats are stretched out until the cups looses their grip. Once the cups are free, I return them to the original place on the wall by her side.

“I think she has had her fill, for now!” I ponder, urging her to step back far enough for her to pull her mouth free from the plug she had had in her mouth. She is reluctantly pulling back.

“Hope the plug was the right size, for her; neither too large, nor too small!” I ponder.

“Assuming my tube is the same as hers, I could attempt to find out!” I ponder.

Yet, now is not the time. I pull out a cloth and polish the plug she had been having in her mouth, leaving it a high gloss. The smooth, clear plug doesn't look, as if it should be too much for me to swallow. I may not be a cow, but if I have the same oral tube as she had; it should fit just right, for me too.

“She has a muzzle, but does that affect the size of her mouth?” I ponder.

Her muzzle would add two and a half inch of length, to her mouth. The plug for her, had to be two and a half inch longer; than mine would be, because of that alone.

“Would she accept it, if I acquired a bit or halter, for the purpose of walking her, outside her home?” I ponder.

“Would I want to walk her in public, if I could acquire the bit or halter and would I want to do it in this case?” I ponder.

Of course, for as long as she is remaining the cow, she could not answer me; if I managed to ask her. She could respond, nodding her head in approval, or shake her head as a sign if she did not agree. I would still have to pull the tube out, or write it down for her to read it; if I wanted her to respond to such a request. I have to consider it carefully, she is my sister and I have respect for her.

While I had formulated the general idea, I leave it for later. I need to figure out how and why I wanted to go through with it; before I could ask anything of her, in the first place.

“Do I change back, into being a regular girl; or do I stay as the milk-maid, in public?” I ponder.

I do enjoy how this feels, but do I enjoy the reactions of people around me?

“Maybe I should have a small outhouse for me to sleep in, when I choose to stay in uniform? I do not feel like leaving the dungeon, wearing this!” I ponder.

Unless she had prepared the items for me, I will have to leave the house; in order to acquire the items I need, for what I have in mind!” I realize.

I do want the items required, for me to stay in character. If I want to stay the milk-maid, I need a home of my very own; with all the facilities required, for me to maintain a life here. I do not wish to walk out of the dungeon, in order to perform anything as the milk-maid she asked me to be for her.

I had enjoyed to be milked, lactation is after all a part of being the cow I had chosen to be for the duration.

She had used the automated equipment, but she had still served me; applying the cups to my teats and served me the feed, by making the plug available.

Strange how I had enjoyed to be fed in this manner. Not sure how I would have reacted, had I been offered this as the girl I was before I became the cow I am now.

I am fed and have been milked, so I can relax and rest for a moment. I trot off to my box, in the other small room.

For now, it is comfortable to just lie on the floor, it is comforting the inner bovine within me. I had summoned an inner bovine; because I wanted to enjoy this by myself; with only my sister by my side, as the milk-maid who is serving me.

If it is the tubes, but I do enjoy being the cow; it's quite comfortable and fun, when you get into it. Maybe these hooves does help me, slipping into the mood and get a better feel for what it is like.

For now, there isn't a care in the world; I am served and cared for. What is there, for me to complain about?

While walking is out of the question, mainly for the purpose of staying in character. Trotting from room to room is still easy. I can even control the light, and open and close the doors in order to get to where I want to go and see everything I want or need to see.

The cushion under me, is feeling quite comfortable; even with the egg signaling my first pregnancy, as a cow. I have never been pregnant; or experienced anything even slightly resembling one before, as human or cow. Of course, I had never been a cow before; the cow is a new and exciting experience to me, even with the first signs of the pregnancy.

That cushion had been a good choice, the winning ticket in the Royal lottery, if one were to put it in that manner.

Feeling the soft rubber under my belly is strangely comforting. How does one know or recognize the sensations of being pregnant; when one had no experience to compare with and no book to explain how it was to feel. Could either the book or the experience of a regular pregnancy be comparable or even relevant to my situation? Then again, why car?

I had chosen the egg, my sister had helped me to inset it. She had made a good ob out of it; just as she has been and is a very good milk-maid to me.

As I lie down, I feel the soft, yet firm substance of the cushion slides away from under me, just not more than to permit me the comfort I enjoy.

I get up early in the morning, and trot into the room. She is waiting for me, putting the cups onto my teats. While I am lactating, she is setting me up with food. I had found the feeding pleasant, enjoyable and tasty.

Once I had my fell, she is helpful enough to liberate me from the feeder. She even helps me pulling the cups from my teats, once I am no longer lactating. I commonly trot back to my box, resting for a moment. While I rest, I do enjoy the dim light and relative quiet.

By lunch, dinner and supper; I return to the room for milking. If I am hungry, she is only too eager to help me; setting me up for an extra mean.

While I do enjoy resting after I have been lactating; I do enjoy going out in the garden, just after my breakfast. Maybe it is the general privacy, in the early morning, or is it just that I am more eager in the morning.

I guess the vacation from my mundane life, is more relaxed,; than I had expected, or even intended it to be. I rest, most of the day. The milk-maid help me with lactation and feeding; each and every time, she is simply there to help me. I may choose to go out a few times each day, if I want to; or I could stay indoors, if I prefer.

I enjoy the day, and the life I chose for myself; just that I had lost track of time, aside from the sun going up and down. Who counts days, once they lost all meaning? As a cow, I certainly did not bother.

My sister does not bother me with any worldly stuff, as she is staying in character as the milk-maid. If she had said anything, would I have understood what she told me?

Days come and go, I enjoy being the cow. The pregnancy is going along, smoothly; not a single complication of problem in sight. What I had forgotten, is that all pregnancies comes to an end, eventually. That day, is today. It had been a week; since she inserted the egg. I had even forgotten, or ignored the detail, of how long the pregnancy of a cow is. Was it merely due to the fact that I had no intention to stay here, as long as such a pregnancy would last? Just a few weeks, could make no difference.

I had woken up, early in the morning. I had trotted into the other room, where my sister eagerly is helping me. I am lactating, right on schedule and gives a full gallon each time. I think that is fourthce a day, but if it is three, four or five times a day, I do not keep count.

I had had my breakfast and lunch, while I am lactating. Then there is a feeling, there is something different about this day. I have a contraction, almost as if I had had an orgasm.

For a moment, I just lay there, confused and wondering what could possibly be happening. I lay still, trying to relax and focus. There it is again, and again. Once, twice and thrice. I collect all four hooves under myself and rise to my full height. Not quite wobbly, but not quite as steady as I had been used to. There is no pain, not yet. I guess I should be grateful for that small comfort.

“If I could have asked the milk-maid? As a cow, I could not articulate how or what I feel, anyway!” I ponder.

Of course, this is exactly what I had asked for, in the first place; I wanted to be the cow, to be milked and fed like one. What would be the point, if I was breaking out of character, asking things, just because I was unsure or confused?

Standing on all fours, up and about; I step off of the cushion and trot off to the door. I open the door and step out; finding the door closing itself behind me, just as it had been intended to do.

While any regular cow could make plenty of noises, this is exactly what I can never do. Thankfully, I had set up a few things, for me to handle, from a cow's perspective. Like the light. The light is feeling far too bright now. I manage to lift my right fore hoof up and dim the light enough for my comfort.

I am looking around, the room is exactly as I had set it up; quiet and empty. Only now, it is dim and cool, too, just the way I want it now.

“I could go out, just to catch a breath!” I decide.

I manage to open the door and step out. Trotting down the path, originally intended for a very different and now quite unfamiliar vehicle. Just a few yards before me, I find the grass; stopping as I feel the comfort of the green grass under my hooves.

While I stand on the grass, quietly, I feel a new contraction; only harder and faster than the once before. It is almost as if I had been a bomb about to go of. With the next contraction, I almost panic and hurry to the door.

I barely manage to lift my hoof up to the plaque and open the door before me. Once the door finally do open, I scurry in, on wobbly legs, just as much from the near panic as the state in which I had found myself in. Of course the door is closing behind me, I need to do nothing to affirm it. I am thankful for the foresight I had as I set this up. Even if I had forgotten that it is merely how the system I bought works. The detail is inconsequential, either way. It does what I need it to do. I am not left open and exposed in my current situation.

As I hear the door close behind me, I feel more secure and manage to collect myself. I rein in the worst of the animal instincts within me. Yet, I am still alone. I need care, help to deal with what is before me. Maybe this is just because it is new to me, I have no idea what is about to happen; I have no experience, on which to judge the situation.

I look around, scanning the room; trying to find a way out, to escape the confusion in which I am currently ensnared.

The next door slides open and the milk-maid enters the room. She is quiet, mute. She is merely pointing at the room, in which she use to milk me. I follow her to the door, watching as she is controlling the door, making it open before my very eyes. I step in, after her and the door closes just behind me. Just as I hear the door close, I have a new contraction. What ever it is, it is imminent, I have precious little time left.

There is a new contraction, and then another. My contractions are so hard and fast, it is starting to be painful. Maybe I did not want it quite this realistic, after all. Yet, it's too late to change my mind now. Slowly, the image is clearing to me; I am pregnant and about to give birth. I guess I had known it all along, just as I had a vague, rudimentary image of how it would work out. Now I am here, but there is no turning back.

“Did I actually ask her for this?” I ponder.

“Oh, oh; ouch!” I ponder, as the contractions hit me, over and over again.

As she is looking at me; it is as if she was telling me how good I am doing, explaining just how close it is to the moment.

“Typical, I had asked for this!” I realize, even if I had not had an idea as to what it would be like to actually experience it and go through it.

Just as I had not known of or understood the pain involved, I know just as little of what it will do to me in the process, or how it will affect me as I go forwards with what I am doing. It is too late to change my mind now, the process has already begun and it is irrefutably irreversible; it will change me, as it is concluding.

She is leading me from the door, towards the cushion and points at the middle; indicating for me to stop there. I stand still, on all fours; as if it had been natural, as if I had been born a cow.

She is looking at me, observing my body and listening to what it is telling her. She is pointing at the cushion, once more; signaling for me to lie down. I follow her instructions; just as I have a new contraction, my legs tremble under the weight, the pressure of what I am doing. I am no heavier than I had been the day before, or a week before that; it is the effort of what I am doing, what is about to come down.

I never attempted to sit down, like a dog. Yet, I manage to lie down, more like a cow would have been lying down. I make my best, in order to make it as comfortable as I am able, under the current circumstances. The contractions just keep coming, harder and harder, faster and faster. It is a strain on me, an effort to keep up with it.

Would I have wanted to scream out, in pain and frustration; the way I feel, as the girl I had been or the cow I currently am right now? I can do neither; I am mute and devoiced. Maybe it is deeper than the stiff rubber lips I could have felt?

Right now, I guess I am still thankful; I can make none of the noises, thus alerting anyone and everyone close enough to hear. I certainly do not want anyone anywhere near me now. I trust none, safe for the milk-maid that is my sister.

At first, she had been standing on my right side, then she had circled around me in the blind hopes to see as much as possible of what she needed to see, to guide her through.

Once I lie on the ground, she had stopped on my right side, once more. She then steps over me; looking at my rump and facing the wall behind me.

At first, I do not see or feel anything; then I realize, that she is placing her hands on my rump. I feel the palms of her hands sliding back toward where my tail should have been. I feel her fingers sliding down and touching the rim pf my orifice where the anal tube is starting.

The tips of her fingers, sliding forwards; sliding in, into me. I have no say in this; I can not stop her, or prevent her by any means. I can not, I should not; because I need her to do, exactly what she is doing right now. Even if I am not aware of conscious of it.

If it had not been for the pregnancy, and I am just in the middle of giving birth; I would have loved her caring touches, in the form she is now. The squishy, yet stiff touch pads and the long semi square nails would have been delightful to me; yet now I am distracted by the contractions, forcing me to focus on other things, just as I am doing my best, not to let them get to me.

Each contraction, now growing into a stabbing pain, as my body is pushing out the egg my sister so carefully had inserted into me from behind. Maybe this is part of my confusion and lacking experience? Even if I am a cow, and it is the natural order of things.

My sister is grabbing the rip of the rear crater, pulling me up and forcing me to dilate further and faster in order to help me. Helping me to deliver, to let the calf out into the air, in the small room.

She is managing to get a firm, secure grip, pulling me wide open. I should be thankful, for what she is doing for me.

All I can feel, is the contractions; while I focus on pushing out the calf.

”Just one more push, and this will be all over!” a voice is screaming in my mind, over and over, with each and every last push as I contract all over and over again.

There is no scream, but I do feel the calf sliding out of me. First the cloven fore hooves, then the fore legs. I feel the head slide out, before the body. There is a splash beh8nd me, but no liquid is flowing out. Yet, I know I had made it. The pregnancy is at an end and the calf safely delivered. My womb is empty, all of a sudden. I am still inside, no more pain or contractions rocking me to the core.

I am relieved. If only I had realized, just what is coming next. It is not over, it is just the pregnancy.

My calf is healthy, hungry and in need of feeding.

For a moment the room is still and quiet. Nothing is wrong; everything went by the book. My daughter is fine. My sister did make no sign of anything being wrong.

I turn onto my right side, looking at the calf slowly moving around.

She does look like a fairly normal calf, or it is my image of what is right for her.

I can clearly see her trembling, as she attempts to stand up. He wobbles for a moment. In the end she manages to get up on all fours. I can clearly see her moving about, scanning the near vicinity around her for what is around her; while she is obviously looking for me, her mother.

Just as her mother she has cloven hooves, like any bovine would be expected to. She is moving about on all fours, just like any little calf is expected to. It is natural to her. I can clearly see it.

I am delighted, to be how she is taking after her mother. The cute little muzzle, and her lips almost identical to mine; albeit smaller, just as she is smaller than me. There is the one small detail sticking out, she has her ears on top of her head, just like any little calf. Maybe I should have looked closer, examined her, noticing how she has no tubes inserted, supporting the changes in me, just as she is not having anything enforcing her to trot around on four hooves.

Maybe I am simply too proud of her, as a mother.

I feel my hooves slip out, before my fore legs; then I am squished and slide all the way out. The next moment; I find myself on the floor, just behind my mother. Of course she is a cow, just as I am. I could dream up no contradiction.

The floor is a large cushion in the form of a mattress, but to me it is just the floor. It is soft under me, my hooves.

I try to stand up, struggling to collect my hooves under myself, but it is hard. My legs simply doesn't quite cooperate with me, at first.

Once I manage to stand up; I look around, finding her standing there, just a foot or two to the right. I look up at her. She is gorgeous, the best thing ever to exist. How could I think any different?

While I do hear the squeaking of my hooves, each and every step I take; everything else is quiet, not even my mother or that strange girl by her side says anything or make any other noises I can hear.

“Guess I could ignore the quiet, for now; I am hungry!” I ponder.

As I once more look up, I notice my mother now standing right in front of me, her right breast before me. I lift my head and aim my muzzle at the teat. She is perfect, I know the teat should slip right into my mouth.

I manage to part my lips, just enough to let me lick the top of the teat. I press forwards, feeling the teat slip right in between my lips.

Once I start to such, I feel my lips contract around the teat; then the first squirt hit the back of my mouth, slowly flowing down my throat. It is rich, thick, slippery and very delicious. Why shouldn't it be?

This is my first meal, I do not know what I am so expect; I just take it for granted, this is how milk should taste and feel in my mouth. Without any references to build your experience on, I am bound to take it in this manner. Should I complain, or whine about how it could have felt or tasted? Why? I like it and enjoy the taste.

There is a new squirt, and I suck harder. She rewards me with more. I feel the milk flow down my throat with ease, making it comfortable for me to swallow.

I continue, until I have had my fill. My belly is full and I am content. Maybe I had just one squirt too many, but it tasted too good for me to stop earlier.

Before I let go, I tentatively nibble, giving her a tentative tug; just for the fun of it, feeling the teat stretch out. She sigh, giving a clear signal of enjoying it. I give her a few more tugs, before I let go and lie down beside her. I am tired, content and a bit sleepy.

She is quiet, but I do notice that she is quite content. She is happy I am doing well, just as a mother should.

She just looks at me, nuzzling me and gives me all the warmth and comfort I could ever wish for. I have everything a little calf could need, wish for or possibly want in life.

After a moment, she is telling me to stand up and follow her. I am not sure why, but still follow her. She trots to the door and the door opens before her. I follow her out of the room.

She is opening the next door and I follow her into the room. A soft, squishy cushion on the floor

“My bed!” I ponder, as I take a few steps forwards and lie down.

She looks at me, with pride and joy. She is my other, my everything.

I step up onto the cushion in the middle of the room, trotting up on it and explore how it feels under my hooves. While I am a bit tied and sleepy, I do not put in the effort right now.

This does still feel good under my hooves, so I get down and lie down to rest. As I close my eyes, I soon fall asleep. The slumber is rest-full and content.

While I had chosen to be a cow, for the joy of lactation; nothing had prepared me, for what it is like to have your very first calf nibbling your teat.

The Pink One-Stop Clop-Shop Anthology

by Ponyess

Book One: The Tubes of Fortune, at the Pink Light district

Book Two: Without Consent, Under the Spell of Black Tubes

Book Three: Holy Cow