Wike, Totawwy Bimbo! Pt. 03

Wike, Totawwy Bimbo! Part Three.

"No Hate in My Bimbos."

The next morning Fink was reading the file on Dawn Summers. She seemed a bright, quite serious freshman at Sunnydale Community College. Her sole form of rebellion had been rather innocent shoplifting when she was still a teenager. She wasn't acting overly promiscuous, so, a concentrated dose of the happy gas, and some sexy clothes would certainly set off warning bells for the Slayer. Maybe he'd throw some new hair into the bargain, and a set of pillowy fuck-lips. He scratched out the tit enhancement.

"Later," he mumbled. Fink grinned. He picked up the phone. Life wasn't bad.

***

Becker walked down the corridor towards Fink's office, ignoring the various pouting and blinking bimbos. Yesterday he'd let himself be distracted, today he was clear in his objectives. Today he wouldn't be misled by anything, which was exactly why he had been selected for this job. He deliberately forgot to knock when he went in. Fink looked up from his phone call.

"I'll have to call you back to arrange a time," he said into the phone. "I'm late for a meeting." He hung up and looked at Becker. "I'm trying to run a business here.

"A business which requires the services of our organization to function," Becker said coldly. "So, I need not remind you that our wishes take precedence over anything else you do." Fink frowned. "And speaking of our wishes," he went on. "I've been told Miss Chase almost escaped last night." Fink waved dismissively.

"We caught her. She never escaped our attention."

"You got reckless." Becker raised his voice just a trifle. "In the future our targets will be kept in confinement until their loyalty is assured. Do you understand?" Fink just stared. "Now business," Becker said, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Fink's desk. Fink produced a memo.

"We restructured the muscles of Miss Burkle's back last night," he said. "We are taking her in for extra implants this morning. We want her to look as cheap and fake as possible. At the same time, we start work on Miss Chase's neural re-sequencing. Once her new implants are in, we'll set to work on Miss Burkle's too. Now the level of re-sequencing for them is quite high. The new personalities you want created for them may take more than one session to complete, but be assured, it will be done."

"And the Summers girl?" Becker asked.

"She and her class will be taken to what is known as the white room on the mental augmentation floor. Once inside, a neural flash will be emitted. It will put them all in a trancelike state, which will allow us to implant them with memories of a false class field trip." Fink looked up from his memo. "We'll also have Miss Chase prove her loyalty to us. She'll be taking the girls and re-educate them on their proper roles in society. She'll teach them their attitudes to their male classmates and reset their future goals." He chuckled. "Of course, she is just ornament; the real programming will be done by our technicians. On the other hand, it will give Miss Chase's own programming extra depth. Nothing as convincing as teaching yourself, eh?" He grinned and went on. "In the meantime, Miss Burkle and some of the other girls will entertain the boys. They'll enthusiastically explain to them the nature of male supremacy and the new roles of their female counterparts. They'll do it stripping and lap dancing; quite the catchy way of getting taught, no?" Fink sat back smiling.

"Good," Becker said with a sour face. "I needn't stress the importance of today's operation for bringing the Slayer here. If you fail in anyway..."Fink nodded, trying to look meek.

"I'm well aware of what happens to anyone who fails Wolfram & Hart," he said. Fuck you, damn dried-up bean-counter, was what he thought.

***

Fink was in Observation Room Two. He overlooked the reprogramming lab where several guards tried to restrain a very aggressive Cordelia. The happy gas couldn't be used at this stage; it would interfere with the reprogramming process later on, which meant his guards were taking several very painful hits, mostly to the crotch. He had to admit she was far more resilient than he had thought. It filled him with a weird sense of satisfaction.

He picked up the folder provided to him by Becker. It gave a detailed outline of how the girls' minds were to be altered. They weren't the usual types of transformation he dealt with, but then again Wolfram & Hart weren't the run of the mill client. He shouldn't be surprised that their requests were as nasty as they were. Opening the folder, he first reviewed the pictures of people who had to be integrated in Cordelia's personal relationships. There was Fred, of course, Cordelia would soon recognize her as her lover, which was quite a challenge for someone so staunchly straight. There also was the manager of the porn company she'd be working for. And the landlord of the dump she and Fred would be set up in by Wolfram & Hart; he looked just like the weasel he was. Finally, there were several key members of Wolfram & Hart's team, including Lilah Morgan, Gavin Park, Becker and Eve. Fink smiled at the special brackets around those names.

The basic set up for Cordelia was that she had to believe she'd come to L. A. to be an actress, but she couldn't get a break and wound up in porn to make a living. She'd hate it, but she'd never quit and would obey any commands the company manager gave her. No matter what. There were similar brackets around "hate it".

"No hate in my bimbos," Fink muttered.

This arrangement would see her at the mercy of the cast and crew of whatever film she was working on, both on and off screen. In her new home she'd have to service her landlord twice a day in exchange for minor discounts on their rent. All this would lead to a very angry relationship with Fred. Her intelligence reduction wasn't to be as severe as Fred's. It would be just enough to limit her prospects but not enough that she could be walked all over. Fink pinched the bridge of his nose. Such cruelty.

Fred's profile was a little more extreme. Clearly Lilah didn't like her at all. Her intelligence was to be heavily reduced. She should be left incredibly gullible and highly submissive. It would of course strip her of her scientific, reading, writing and counting skills. The only thing she'd have left any skill for was dancing and pleasuring her lovers. The underlining description of Fred was to be a glorified cock tease, but she would hate sex with men. She would derive no personal satisfaction from it. Nevertheless, she would still obey all orders from her boss to avoid losing her job; she'd even fuck him.

She would really be a lesbian, though, completely devoted to Cordelia. She'd obey her without question despite her lover's bad attitude. Like Cordelia she would be conditioned to recognize key members of Wolfram & Hart and obey them. An arrangement would be in place for her to entertain at gatherings held by her landlord. Once more, both paragraphs were riddled with brackets. Only Fink and his head scientists knew what they meant.

"What did these two do to Lilah?" Fink wondered. He had no qualms to dumb down and bimbofy any woman that crossed his path, especially the intelligent, bitchy ones. He'd never make them unhappy with their fate, though. A Bimbo Tech bimbo was a happy bimbo, always.

"They annoyed her," Becker said, entering the room behind him. "The Burkle girl called her cheap; she doesn't like that."

"Wow, I'd love to see what she comes up with for someone who really pisses her off," Fink said, looking back down at the notes.

"I doubt you would," Becker said. He took up position alongside Fink and looked down on Cordelia being restrained.

"Can I assume the others will also become this... colorful?" asked Fink.

"I don't know what arrangements are being made for them," Becker said. "Lilah Morgan does have a talent for cruelty, though."

Chapter 2: A Wonderful Gift of Eternal Happiness.

Cordelia struggled. The two large security guards forced her into the strange looking chair in the center of the lab. She kicked, screamed and clawed at them for dear life. But they easily managed to get her into the chair. A blonde she hadn't yet seen, strapped her wrists down to the arms of the chair. The bimbo was dressed in one of the well-known latex nurse's uniforms. It allowed her ample tits to spill over.

Though restrained, Cordelia continued to struggle. She reached out with her long legs and kicked one of the men in the crotch, causing him to double over in agony. The second guard was more alert and managed to grab her legs, forcing them down to the ground. A further two restraints were strapped around her ankles, tying her to the chair. Cordelia continued to pull as the guard she'd kicked got up.

"Kiss it better bitch," he snapped and pointed at his crotch. Cordelia spat in his face defiantly. It prompted him to raise his hand, wanting to smack her, but he was stopped by one of the doctors.

"Don't be stupid," the man said. "You don't want to damage the merchandise." The guard hesitated. Then he leaned into Cordelia with a smirk on his face. He whispered in her ear. "Give it an hour, bitch, and you'll be on your knees begging to kiss it better." Cordelia shuddered.

One of the doctors fitted a leather strap around her skull. It prevented her from moving her head about. The doctors began to position a series of laser like devices, all aimed at her brain. Cordelia closed her eyes tightly, whispering to herself over and over, "Anshel pweashe save me." Then she was suddenly overwhelmed by the mind shattering pain of a vision. In it she saw herself on all fours. Her enormous new tits were swinging back and forth, making her feel like a cow. A huge man pounded her ass while she ate out a black woman's pussy. The woman yanked a leash attached to a collar around Cordelia's neck. She watched herself eat her to orgasm; then she heard a voice in the distance shout "Cut!" A new pain in her head snapped her back to reality.

She opened her eyes. That was all the BimboTech scientists needed. She tried to squirm in her chair, but her eyes were locked on two lasers beams. They plunged into her dilating pupils and were stimulating her in ways she had never known. Her new body seemed to drown in waves of pleasure, one after the other. The scientists and nurses just looked on, all smiling. They knew Cordelia's willpower was fading rapidly. She shuddered through her first of many mind-blowing orgasms, a low humming now echoing through her skull. Cordelia's new, sparkling white teeth chewed at her fat new lips; she felt pussy juices trickle down her inner thighs. One of the nurses was overcome by the scene, falling to her knees and crawling over to the tied-up girl. She snaked her long tongue into the swollen slit and began to eat her out.

"Shtop, pweashe!" Cordelia gasped; then she screamed through another orgasm. She was frightened beyond belief by what was happening to her. The fierce passion, the amazing climaxes. That fear quickly faded.

"Cordi Is TrippilyKlit now. Cordi is a great, happy, cock-loving, cunt eating TrippilyKlit! TrippilyKlit is a slut," a hoarse, sexy voice echoed in her mind. "TrippilyKlit is a slutty porn star. TrippilyKlit loves to fuck! TrippilyKlit loves to be seen fucking. TrippilyKlit loves to suck cock on camera! To eat pussy. TrippilyKlit, TrippilyKlit..." The words had the rhythm of her hammering heartbeat. It rushed through her feverish bloodstream, throbbing in time with her racing pulse. Cordelia Chase thought she fought, but she never stood a chance.

The slut between her thighs kept eating her out. She was great, she was the very best; her doctored tongue found places she never knew having. It brought her to a merciless level of constant coming. The subliminals were relentless too. Tidal waves of pleasure coursed through her body whenever her new name was mentioned. Soon, Cordelia couldn't see herself anymore; she forgot who she was, how strong she was. Was she ever strong? She was no longer a hero, that life lost its meaning to her. Had she ever been one? Had she ever been someone else than TrippilyKlit? TrippilyKlit, Twippily... Soon, all her thoughts were dominated by ways to get her slutty holes filled. Ways to be the best slut she could be. TwippiwyKwit.

"Don' shtop!" Cordelia lisped, and she erupted into another orgasm. Her whole body shook with it. Fink and Becker looked at one another knowingly. After an hour of this Cordelia Chase would be erased, she would literally be fucked away. She would be the bimboslut TrippilyKlit, and proud of it. TrippilyKlit would be a famous porn star, a loyal BimboTech girl, and Fred's slutty girlfriend.

In Cordelia's mind, the subliminal messages were becoming her truth; it was who she was. First there was no turning back, then there was no wish to ever turn back. A new sensation coursed through her. She could feel an even harder buzzing in her head. To her wide inner eyes, it was like a dark tunnel opening, a rush to the light, a flight into happiness. What Cordelia didn't know was that right then the bigger part of her intelligence drained away. She didn't know, nor did she have to know, not ever again. But, ah, yes... it felt so good! Soooooon, the sexy voice said, soon TwippiwyKwit would fit in with her happy bimbo sisters and scurry around the building with them, not a wowwy in the wowd.

"What are you Cordi?" the sensual voice inside her head husked.

" Cowdi ish TwippiwiKwit now," Cordelia whispered. "A gweat, happy, cawck-wuvvin', cun' eatin' shwut."

"Say it louder, Trippi, darling!" the voice urged.

"TwippiwyKwit ish a bimboshwut!" This time, she called it out, and her lisping voice was higher pitched than ever before.

"Like, yell it, you slut!" the voice challenged.

"TwippiwyKwit is, wike, a fuckin' bimboshwut!" Trippi yelled, her voice clear as crystal. She made sure everyone could hear. Everyone should hear! It was a yell of acceptance. It was her coming out as the glorious slut she had become.

"TwippiwyKwit! TwippiwyKwit!" It filled her with pride; a massive orgasm printed her yell into the deepest recesses of her empty brain. Trippi collapsed in her chair and passed out. The nurse still lapped away at her flooding juices.

The Premature Birth of a Porn Star.

For the next hour, the subliminals worked their magic on the unconscious remnants of Cordelia Chase's brain. They calmly destroyed all that once was the dauntless investigator; they wormed and erased, massaged and fondled, patiently creating the incredible porn legend TrippilyKlit. When it was over, Trippi awoke. She batted her long eyelashes. Before her stood Fink, Becker, Cunt Lusty, and Tittiefuck.

"Welcome to your new world, Trippi," Fink said. He held out his hand. Trippi's wide new eyes swam through a perfumed mist. There seemed to be nothing but the now; no nagging past, no uncertain tomorrow, nothing but the gaze of this man. This wannafuw, wannafuw man who held out his hand to her. A smile crawled like a lazy caterpillar over her new fat lips. Trippi sighed. Her lovely, lovely round tits swelled with her breath. They felt so good on her chest. Not at all heavy, even when she rose to her feet, assisted by the nice warm hand. They felt like spun cotton candy and at their center was this hot, pinpointed set of lights she needed to follow. They were two sweet tingling nubs of pleasure, aching whenever the flimsy fabric of her top stretched over it. Ah, she moaned. So happy, happy to be me; to feel myself floating like a weightless moon, gliding effortlessly on my sensational heels.

Each step sent electrical currents up her thighs and into her center of molten lava. Her calves tingled at every stretch; little shivers made her perfect legs tremble. She walked and walked, always following the smiling, begging eyes. The slow dancing of her tits felt awesome, the inner thighs caressed her slick, bare cunt at every move. Even the dancing earrings added to her incredible sense of wellbeing.

"Hi," she said with the silvery lisp of an angel. "Ma name'sh TwippiwyKwit an' she sho vewy, vewy happy." A vast barrage of giggling shook her frame. The sweet man smiled.

"Yes," he said. "You are Trippi, my nice sweet bimbo TrippilyKlit, world-famous porn queen. See how she revels in her newfound source of eternal happiness; no-one will ever again take that away from my Trippi." His voice dripped like syrup, resonating with all the pretty voices that murmured inside her head. Ah yesh, neva taken 'way f'om Twippi agin. Da' wash good, wike, sho totawwy gooooood.

Then a sudden breeze seemed to blow an opening into the all- encompassing pink mist. A garish light shone through it and burned out the nice, nice eyes. Trippi stiffened, she felt the acute tug of gravity on her swollen body. Her lips trembled and the light in her new bright eyes darkened.

"Where... what?" she stammered and staggered on her heels. The red claw of her manicured hand made a searching arc through the air, finding nothing. Then the sound of a mewling kitten left her mouth. Her fat black lashes batted in a flurry. A little girl's voice whined: "Mommy... where am I? Where'sh Cowdi? Wha'sh happening?" It was her voice. The new light shifted, and the man's eyes returned into focus. They were not warm anymore, not even friendly. His voice cut through the mist, but she couldn't understand a word. She only knew he was angry and that made her tremble. There was a pressure on the shoulders of her suddenly heavy body. The hands insisted until she flexed her knees and sank to them.

No eyes anymore, now. No light, only the trousers of a dark suit. Her face was pulled against the soft fabric and right in front of them she saw a hand pulling down a zipper, its sound brisk and urgent. She knew it was meant for her. It made the familiar molten lava seep from between her thighs. Then the hand pulled something out of the opening and all the pink clouds rushed in again. A surge of wellbeing made her gasp, her nostrils flared. So very close to her open mouth stood an incredible pole of flesh. A cock, she knew it was a cock. A male cock, just begging for her lips to close around. It was a cawck made for shweet li'w Twippi to suck on. It was all hers to feel slide onto the curl of her tongue and up into her wide-open throat.

Aaaaah, a cawck fo' Twippi, hawt ha'd meat for de gwowious pown bimbo TwippiwyKwit. Yesh, yesh, fo' me, fo' Twippi. Happiness rushed back. It took hold of every fiber in her new, sweet body. She shook on her knees, then she guided the hard flesh into her gasping mouth. Oh Gawd, did it, wike, feew gweat. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation, she closed the shining pink pillows of her lips around it, her other hand cradling the balls in their tightening sack. She moaned, making her voice vibrate against the intruder. It was heaven to feel the little ridge with her tongue tip; it was heaven to taste the salty precum, to hum with the constant throbbing, to stretch on the fantastic fullness.

She opened her eyes to find the sweet gaze of her Mashta. Then she relaxed the muscles of her throat and felt the slick eel pass. Shivering, she closed her eyes again and all the good, glorious feelings returned. Far, far away in her waning universe a pinpoint of light still shimmered, but over her seething sea of molten candy the pink clouds gathered, turning purple. And when a hot, startling explosion hit her throat, the last light sank to never rise again. From the swirling mists the sweet man's eyes returned. They burned into hers as she sucked the last drops from his softening flesh.

"Welcome back, Trippi," he said. She drowned in a convulsion of giggles.