Katie 04

[Description: Primal submission of a trans woman.]

I have reneged for too long on finishing my multiple open series; thus, please enjoy the short final chapter of Katie. I intend to finish The Demotion next, before moving on to new projects. Please reach out with any comments and feedback.

This story contains graphic content and potential trauma cues for sensitive readers. Specifically, this story contains themes of non-consent, feminization, body modification, mind control, and identity death. If this is not something that you can handle or would enjoy, then please read no further. This is a work of fiction, by and for consenting adults. Any resemblance to real people or entities is unintended and purely coincidental.

---

Chapter 4: A Primal Bimbo Fantasy

Months had passed since I started my transition. I was grateful for Adam's help and his encouragement during this turbulent time in my life. Adam connected me with the best medical staff in the area and graciously funded all my medical bills. Here in the States, this was not a small amount of money.

"Insurance be damned," Adam often said, "Gender affirming care is life sustaining care. Whatever you need, you're going to get it."

Within mere months of starting hormone replacement therapy, I noticed that my skin softened, my nipples became tender and sensitive, and my muscles visibly shrunk and softened. I also felt generally calmer throughout the day; however, I expected that this was more likely related to my loss of employment at my firm, and my new life taking care of Adam's mansion. I was not built for labor, and the life of a 'trophy wife' suited me quite well. In every possible way, I felt that my sense of well-being dramatically improved.

But despite these improvements, I experienced an even greater change at Adam's behest. I describe these in more detail in earlier chapters, dear reader. But given my absence in writing, let me remind you: Since my 'operation' at Orgos, Inc., my nervous system has been fully subjugated. Specifically, when hearing Adam's voice, my mind and body is physically incapable of disobeying him.

As the months have passed, I have discovered that even my unconscious body functions submit to Adam's commands. For example, as I transitioned to womanhood, I followed a series of mesocycles with strict calorie surpluses and deficits. And while I had grown up as a scrawny boy, I have always had a terrible time controlling my appetite in the evening. When I complained about my difficulty to Adam, he shook his head dismissively.

"Until I say otherwise, you won't want to eat after dinner and before breakfast."

I made no effort to hide my incredulous expression. I loved Adam and was often impressed by his ability to force me to, e. g., stay still for long periods, only speak in a French accent, or have an on-command orgasm. But did he think that he could just 'command' me not to have a sweet tooth? I shook my head and scoffed; did he believe himself to be some sort of wizard who could wave his metaphorical wand and take away my appetite? Get real!

My incredulity was short-lived. That evening, Adam and I were snuggling on the couch, watching Adam's favorite show: The Great British Bake-Off. Before moving in with Adam, I enjoyed neither cooking shows nor reality TV. Indeed, this Bake-Off show sounded like my personal hell. But when Adam explained why he found it so thought provoking and why I should enjoy it too, I immediately found myself captivated by it. Every week during the fall, the release of a new episode was the highlight of my week, as it was with Adam.

As we laid on the couch, I was curled up in front the Adam, always the little spoon.

"Love," Adam patted the side of my bottom, "Be a Doll and go make me a cocktail."

"Yes, my love," I cooed as I slid from the couch and walked to the kitchen. While I consider myself philosophically a feminist even before transitioning, Adam 'sending me to the kitchen' never failed to make me weak in the knees.

After I made Adam his favorite drink--a mezcal old fashioned--my eyes wandered to the snack cupboard. Unable to help myself, I opened the cupboard door and grabbed a handful of potato chips. But as I brought the savory snack to my mouth, my stomach heaved, and I felt as if I would vomit. I set the chip down, and my stomach felt immediately relieved. Confused, I picked up the chip again. The result was the same: whenever I brought the forbidden snack to my face, my stomach tied itself in knots. I tried the experiment again with corn chip, chocolate, and gummies to no avail. Giving up, I brought Adam's drink back to him.

Adam spoke, but didn't take his eyes off the TV. "What took you so long, Babe?"

I couldn't lie to Adam. As in, when Adam asked me a question, I was physically unable to lie, nor could I choose not to respond.

"I tried eating a snack," I said, chagrined.

Adam laughed. "Oh? And how did that work out for you?"

"Not well," I admitted. "But HOW exactly did you do that? I felt like my body was rejecting the food!"

"Well, do you really want a snack?" Adam asked, finally turning to look at me. "I know you're cutting periodically to get the body you want, but I'll tell you you're allowed to eat if you just want a snack tonight."

"No, no," I shook my head, "I'm glad you told me I couldn't. But HOW did you tell me I couldn't?"

Adam laughed again, but this time his laugh sounded more bitter. "The mind is a powerful thing, Babe. You've heard stories of placebos curing diseases and all that, right?"

"But this is different," I insisted, "I know that there's nothing different happening in my body; I *know* that's it's all in my head!"

"That doesn't matter," Adam shook his head, still grinning, "Here's a fun fact about placebos that we've learned over the last few years: Even if I tell you that what I'm giving you is a placebo, it will still have some effect."

My eyes widened. How could that possibly be true?

"And what we did to you is much more than a placebo," Adam continued, "I am going to word this carefully. The programming we did on you will override even the unconscious aspects of your brain and nervous system. For example," Adam put his hands up and spoke slowly, "THIS IS NOT A COMMAND BUT MERELY A HYPOTHETICAL But if I told you that you couldn't drink or couldn't breathe... you wouldn't."

I gulped. I knew that I had given up my autonomy when I went forward with the procedure. But it hasn't occurred to me the extent to which my life was subject to Adam's whims.

"Obviously, there are risks to this, and we're still developing safety mechanisms. But there are," Adam paused, "Accidents. For example, in an early clinical trial, one of our researchers became frustrated with a test subject and told him to go fuck himself. The results were pretty funny, actually."

We both laughed at our shared mental image.

"But this isn't magic," Adam continued, "Magic doesn't exist. Nor is it science fiction. For example, if I told you that you could fly, you would believe me, and maybe you'd do something stupid like jump out of a window. But you wouldn't *actually* be able to fly. What I tell you to do needs to be physiologically possible."

"Can you tell me to shrink my ribcage and get a bigger ass, hips, thighs, and boobs?" I didn't like Adam's new somber tone, and I hoped the joke would lighten his mood. His smile suggested it had.

"Funny you say that," Adam leaned forward on the couch. I loved seeing Adam talk about the things he cared about. "We have some preliminary research that suggests I can control your hormone levels to some extent. It's not precise. Obviously, your body wouldn't understand what I mean if I were to tell you to 'lower your testosterone production by 70% and increase progesterone by 30%,' but with certain key phrases, I can manipulate how your body develops to some extent."

I stared at him dumbfounded.

"Obviously, you shouldn't go off of your HRT or anything," Adam laughed, "We still don't know exactly how the mechanism works. And if something goes wrong with a chemical imbalance, things can go VERY badly. So, we'll leave your hormones and body composition to the experts."

And indeed, we left my body composition to the experts. Within months, my waist slimmed and my weight shifted toward my hips and ass. My skin softened. My face became clearer.

Other changes were less 'gradual.' With a few calls and a few little operations, I had breasts, a larger butt, and my body sculpted in just the way Adam liked. I loved the idea of becoming exactly what Adam wanted. First, transitioning requires a series of serious decisions, none of which I would have been able to make on my own. Second, I felt that to be truly 'his,' he should have a say in the way things looked. Third, we both knew that if my preference disagreed with Adam's preference, Adam could just as easily change my preference with a few words.

Before long, Adam had built his perfect little bimbo doll. He didn't like me to wear bras around the house. Thus, I often found myself supporting my own breasts as I walked because the bouncing was so painful on my skin. I tried to complain to Adam about this once: before I finished my [synonym for complaint], I was on my knees with his cock between my tits.

Similarly, Adam loved the way my new ass jiggled when he slapped it--which was every time he walked past me. While I hadn't imagined myself taking the 'bimbo bubblegum' approach to my transition, Adam helped me understand that this better reflected who I was on the inside. And more importantly, this was the kind of person that Adam wanted in his bed each night.

***

Since my 'cognitive reconditioning,' Adam liked nothing more than to exercise his power over my mind. One evening, he and I were enjoying a spirited debate about daylight savings time. Adam was always of the opinion that Congress should simply do away with it.

"Why bother with upsetting everyone's sleep schedule just to have more daylight during working hours? It seems arbitrary and, frankly, archaic in this age."

I countered by pointing to highway traffic data comparing states who do not recognize daylight savings time (e. g., Arizona and Hawai'i) with the states who do. I noted that state who recognize daylight savings time have fewer traffic deaths during the morning commute hours.

"Is a little sleep disruption worth thousands of additional traffic deaths every year?"

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it. I could see that he had no counterarguments. But Adam was not one to lose, even if it meant not fighting fair.

"You really are too smart for your own good sometimes," a sly grin grew across Adam's face. I knew that he was planning something, but I did not know what.

"What if we dial down your IQ by a few points?"

"Wait," I stammered, "How would that be possible? You can't just order me to be less intelligent!"

I made no effort to hide my incredulity. Adam stared back more intently, clearly roused by my challenge.

"Drop your IQ by 10%."

'No way,' I thought to myself. 'There is simply no way that my internal programming would let Adam just make me dumber.'

"As we were saying," Adam continued, "Since sunrise and sunset vary throughout the year, and depending which parallel you're sitting on, wouldn't any data examining the variability of traffic incidents against daylight savings time have a risk of misapplying the null hypothesis? Or even more simply, of failing to isolate for that one variable?"

I squinted at Adam and blinked repeatedly. I understood what each of those words meant individually, but I was having the hardest time putting them together to understand what Adam was saying.

"I mean," I stammered, "I'm trying to make sense of that. But I'm sure that the folks who study that would have thought of all that."

I was still trying to wrap my mind around what Adam was saying. Was he speaking convolutedly just for the sake of it? Was this some kind of prank?

Adam continued his line of questioning. "But the 'folks who study that' clearly haven't persuaded Congress, right? I mean, shouldn't this be a fairy innocuous, bipartisan issue if it's so straight forward?"

I could tell from Adam's grin that he was enjoying this. But my eyes moved from his smile to his square jaw. I could feel a tingle in my hips and ass as my eyes traced his jawline. His five-o'clock shadow was so perfectly trimmed, to look both accidental and picturesque.

"Hello?" Adam waved his hand at me, "Earth to Katie. Are you still with me?"

"Y-yeah," I stammered, "I-I'm just having a little trouble focusing."

"Interesting," Adam back in his chair. "Drop your IQ by another 10%"

"I--I dunno wut happening," I admitted, "I guess, I having trouble knowing what you say...."

Adam laughed as an evil grin spread over his face. "Drop your IQ by another 10%. And for good measure, you can no longer understand human speech."

I could see Adam continuing to speak, and I could tell that whatever he was continuing to say was having an effect on my body. I felt a tingling between my legs and deep inside my ass. I shifted in my seat, staring at Adam intently. I could not comprehend what was happening to me, but in that moment, I wanted Adam. Indeed, as my human cognition melted away, the desire I felt for Adam felt more powerful and more primal than it had ever before. All I knew in that moment was that I needed Adam to mount me and breed me. I was a dumb animal in heat, and I needed nothing more than to have Adam inside of me.

My muscles relaxed, and I found myself having difficulty sitting upright in my chair. I could see Adam's lips continuing to move and could hear what seemed at the time to be incoherent syllables.

Without understanding why, I got out of my chair and, on all fours, crawled to Adam. As Adam's hand scratched behind my ear, continuing to speak, in nuzzled my fade against his hand. Adam then said something else I could not understand. As if moving on their own; my arms and legs began to carry me--still crawling on hands and knees--toward our shared bedroom. I looked back and felt comforted to see Adam rising from his chair and walking behind me, following me to whatever destination I was unwittingly bound for.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Adam spoke a few more words that I did not understand. Without hesitation, and without entirely realizing what I was doing, I jumped onto the bed, still on all fours. I faced away from Adam, lowered my head into the pillows, and arched my back. As the bitch in heat that I was playing, 'presenting' to Adam seemed like simply the right thing to do. I did not have the words to articulate this most natural thing that was happening. To me, Adam and I were simply two animals, like a dominant stallion and his submissive mare. My behavior--that of pure, complete sexual submission--seemed to come from a place deep inside of me. Stripped of my civilized, polite façade, I had been reduced to my authentic, innermost self. When the onion layers of my personality, experiences, and memories were stripped from me, I was nothing more and nothing less than Adam's soft, obedient pet. And I needed him inside of me right then.

All remaining thoughts slipped from my brain like water through a sieve. All that remained was my singular focus on the larger, dominant animal that stood behind me, slipping off his clothes. I felt his powerful hands wrap around my ass. My soft, pliable skin gave way to his strength. I felt the solid tip of his manhood toughing against my ass, softly at first. Instinctively, I arched my back further and spread my legs, easing his access to me. My breath was rapid and wild.

I felt a cool liquid being squirted between my cheeks and Adam's large hands rubbing around and is due of me. I did not comprehend concepts like "lube" in my state, but that frankly didn't matter. I whined pitifully, shaking my ass up and down in a primal effort to entice this dominant male to mount me. Adam chuckled as the gentle prod of his member moved itself to my hole.

Slowly at first, Adam pushed himself inside of me. I relaxed, letting the sensations wash through me. Without that paper-thin veil of anxiety that usually covered my white-hot passion as Adam fucked me, nothing remained but the pure, mindful bliss.

Adam's pace increased, and I pushed back into him, matching his rhythm. Adam said a few more words that I could neither understand nor care to *try* to understand. My consciousness seemed to narrow then, and I felt nothing but the pleasure of Adam inside of me, and the rhythm with which he fucked me. In that moment, that rhythm became the entire universe to me. It was the master that my body followed.

Otherwise unaware of what is happening, I felt nothing but the drum as Adam savagely fucked me. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. It was as if the universe condensed into one drum that governed everything about me.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. And that drum was met by two other drums. Every part of me, from the way in which I pushed backward to meet Adam's thrusts to my breathing to my very heartbeat conformed to the beat of this masterful drum. Every part of me submitted to its rhythm as I let it control every part of my being. Though 'let' seems like the wrong term: for I had no choice but to march to the beat of my master's drum.

My body pushed backward into Adam, matching his rhythm for what seemed concurrently like an eternity and a fleeting moment before the rhythm intensified. Of course, my heart and movements sped up to match this new beat. This new met its final crescendo as I felt Adam's warmth filling my essence.

Even in my stupor, I could hear Adam's voice issuing another command. Though my higher cognitive faculties could not comprehend what he said, waves of pleasure coursed through my body as I was rewarded with wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss.

We both collapsed into the bed. As his arms wrapped around me, Adam issued another command that my mind could comprehend: "Return your IQ to normal." Realization flowed through me as my mind caught up to the events of the last several minutes. Or was it several hours? I had no awareness of the amount of time that had passed since Adam demonstrated his power over the very functioning of my brain.

"We're going to do that again sometime." Though Adam spoke matter of factly, I could hear the smile in his voice. I smiled as well, turned my head to nuzzle into his neck.

**The End of the Story of Katie**