A Cage for Nightingale
by Alex Streuth
This disclaimer must be read before reading further:
The following story is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors or the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional character in these stories. Any characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional. None of the following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is copyrighted (October 2005) by the author with permission granted to make copies only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its contents. Due to the extreme nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft copy.
Thank you and enjoy the following quality presentation.
Continuity and Background: This story takes place within the charming dominion of Cherish Valley, if you have never visited here before it is a place where girls are reared to respect the lordship of men and the dominant fashion of the ladies in town is preened and in pink. The original story written by The Mayor is titled ‘Pretty Wives in Pink’ and is modeled after the town of Stepford. You may find the graphic novel “Stepford Bound” (by Benson) useful for further reference.) Other influences come from My Gag Order, Thndrshark, and Gord (also see GordBooks.)
The prominent themes are humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips, forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term suffering and servitude.
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and designing. I sometimes come across inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the “Committee for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment” (the CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well as from public town events and records. I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these tales in my free time. While this is intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been taken to help increase readership interest.
Also, as I am extremely busy not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive information. In order to request this more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
A Cage for Nightingale
Aurora Nightingale came from a long line of illustrious singers. She had a voice of pure honey and dew, soft and fragile, yet smooth and rich. Men and women alike came to hear her sultry voice and watch as she performed classic tales of romance and love. She attracted many fans and admirers, and invited more prominent guests backstage after the shows for private receptions.
While not the most gifted businesswoman herself, Aurora employed a very shrewd manager named Gail Tyte. Gail made sure the money poured in. She had the rich fanboys paying through the teeth to attend these aftershow aperitifs. While Aurora was no whore she understood that showing a little skin in proximity could ensure a healthy retention of interest and Gail was adept at parlaying this lust into profit.
This evening a young Middle Eastern man, one Ali Akbar Maalik, who had been charmed by the entrancing performer and had been attending her shows regularly for the past month while he had been visiting America finally got up the courage to make it to the more private setting of the backstage area.
He nervously coughed and then rapped timidly on the wooden door with the gold star that barred entrance to Aurora’s dressing room. He had paid his money to come backstage and was eager to meet the star. While he did not think that Aurora would be meeting her guests in her dressing room he was an infatuated young man and had picked up a floral arrangement which he wanted to deliver in person. It was all he could do to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. He swallowed again as he awaited the sight of his beautiful flower, so pale and so angelic, in the flesh.
Ali’s Uncle was an important man back home, involved in the Oil Business and connected in some not unimportant way to the royal family. While Ali was no Prince, he was certainly connected enough to warrant a bodyguard. He had told his to take a break for dinner so that he could visit the singer privately.
After a moment he knocked softly again, this time pushing the door open a bit with his rapping. He did not want to be rude but it was his most dire desire to deliver these flowers so he pushed the ajar door open a bit more to accommodate his gift and in the process came across a fervent lovemaking session between Aurora and her manager.
Ali, a devout man, stood mouth agape at this sight, at first shocked and then, his mind awhirl, realizing the insult and affront to God that was occurring before his very eyes. He grew angry as he watched:
“Oh Aurora, you were wonderful tonight, oh, mmmmm, oh god.”
“Shut up and suck me, bitch, I was great wasn’t I?”
“Oh yes, oh yes oh god, oh yes you were, you’re always great, mmmmmm.”
“Mmmm, suck it, that’s it, oh god, mmmmm.”
Ali’s eyes were agog. The flowers he had planned on giving to his wondrous pearl fell, forgotten, to the floor out of his limp hand, now clutching into a fist. A little part of him was aroused, but mainly he felt betrayed and made a fool of. This admixture of feelings created an odd sensation that swept up from his toes to his loins, like electricity, eliciting a rampant growth in his pants and a strong sense of majesty to reach up and shock his fingers. He wanted her, now, but he also was full of rage.
“What is this!?” he shouted. “You dare engage in forbidden congress and shame yourself before Allah?”
Aurora was about 1/10th Arabian, but she played it up in her press releases to the point where many of her admirers thought of her as an Arabian Princess. It had been Gail’s idea: Gail, who, at the moment was tackling Ali to the ground, wrestling him, and then jackknifing the young man in the groin, thrusting with her knee, hard, causing him to double over in disbelief. He groaned in pain, his dream of courting Aurora crumbling, his body and pride sore, he lay on the ground, defeated by a woman, and felt very small. As he watched, Aurora, her sweetness vanishing, dialed security while Gail held him pinned.
—That had been three days ago. Of course no charges had been brought, officially, being wealthy and powerful ensured that a diplomatic episode was avoided, but Ali had been barred informally from any further Aurora performances. Security knew to watch for him.
More importantly though, after seeing Aurora in vile congress with another woman, after seeing her in her private moments, Ali’s mind had watched her fall from the pedestal he had set her upon. It hurt him deeply to try to reconcile his two visions of her, the one he had had of her before of that radiant and beautiful angel he had watched so adoringly perform, night after night, and the heathen and unnatural abomination in the eyes of God he had watched for those few moments in her room.
His mind fought over this. Sometimes he saw her as gutter trash, lying in the darker part of his mind, broken and beaten; when he thought of her this way he seethed. Other times though, he hurt, as though stung in the shoulder, as he thought of the loss of his Angel, it seemed impossible to think that she was really gone forever. Was it possible then that she still was this Angel, underneath, or perhaps that the other woman he had seen (whom he had done extensive research on after the attack) her manager, Gail Tyte—and as he spoke her name in his mind he recalled the violence she had done to him and he cringed—was actually the problem. Perhaps if she were not around Aurora would revert to her true, holy self.
He went over the events of that night in his mind, over and over as he focused on them, and eventually he realized a way out of his pain, in fact, yes, he had been foolish. It had not been Aurora’s fault; she was still his perfect angel, virginal and free from impure thoughts. It had been that other woman, that seductress, Gail, who had corrupted her, and Gail who had injured him, injured his pride, made a fool of him, taken his perfect angel and made her into a whore.
It seemed perfectly clear now, it all made sense. He could still have his dream, Aurora could still love him, she just needed someone to teach her the proper ways to conduct herself, someone who had her best interests in mind, who was aware of the damage she was inflicting upon herself in the eyes of God by continuing in her Sapphic ways. But first, he would have to deal with that evil woman who unmade everything, Ms. Gail Tyte. He swallowed hard as he pictured her.
He remembered vividly lying there, doubled over, helpless on the floor in Aurora’s room, hearing her yell at him shrilly, telling him that she was going to say that he had tried to rape her. Oh how he remembered the hate in Gail’s face, the virulence in her voice.
Aurora had remained calm and quiet, the perfect Angel, and, he was sure, had only called security because she was worried about him. As he had sat in his cell for the few hours it required his family to pull the appropriate strings, nursing his sore balls and pride, he came to resent Gail more and more as he watched her in his mind, playing the scene out over and over. It had been Gail who had kept Aurora from him, Gail who was even now corrupting and exerting an evil influence over Aurora, Gail who had hurt him and had caused him so much pain.
Aurora was innocent… Everything would be well again, he smiled, and, in his mind, he put her back up on her pedestal, and watched her shine.
Gail meanwhile, had been given her own separate room in Ali’s imagination, and while it was at the same height as Aurora it was on a very shaky foundation. At the base were a throng of angry men and they shook it, trying to topple it, causing Gail to teeter on her perch. Ali bit his lip and concentrated on her insecurity, watched her try to retain her balance and then watched her, deliciously, as she fell over the side.
Having been put as high up as Aurora she hit the ground hard, breaking her neck and laying paralyzed in the ditch, a blinking neon sign above her pointing her out to every one of the angry throng that surrounded her. He himself, now a part of the scene, did not go near her, he was still hurt by her, and a little afraid of her despite her injured position, but he watched with relish as the brutes beat upon her and then, later, after having dispersed, returning secretly, individually, and visited upon her all the actions Ali’s imagination could think of.
—Ali’s father had sent his son on a trip to America to learn more about the world. He had kept his son safe and insulated during his upbringing, giving him everything the young boy might want as he had grown up because he was his only son and he spoiled him.
It had not surprised him but worried him when he had learned that his son had gone to Las Vegas. He had commanded him to Washington, D.C., under the watchful protection of his bodyguard, but, boys will be boys, and young Ali had wanted some excitement
His father did not have all of the details of that night, only that his son had gotten into trouble, but he worried that his son was now lost in his thoughts (retreating into his fantasies) and avoiding dinner.
His father knew that his son’s brooding was unhealthy but let it go on for a few days, thinking it would pass. Finally, seeing no end in sight, he gathered his son before him and got his full attention:
“Son, whatever it is that is troubling you, don’t just sit there, do something about it.”
Chapter 1 – A Delivery is Made
Alex Streuth answered the phone, “Streuth Industries, LLC how can I help you?”
He tapped his pencil idly beside his drawing board, he was working on a subtle design change in some of the framing devices he used in the gallery; some of the pieces had wriggled free and caused a disruption during the last show.
“Yes, yes, that’s right, mergers and acquisitions. Mmm, hmmmm, who is this? Oh, oh I see, well forgive me for my evasion, its just that prudence is required in this line of work. Tell you what, while I can’t give you any details over the phone why don’t we meet in person, I assure you that if you do indeed require my services that it will be worth your time, be more expedient in the long run, and even probably provide you with more of what you want if you can be present for the execution of the orders.”
“Not a problem. Great, ok good we’ll work out the details in person then. A pleasure, bye.”
Alex made a note in his calendar for the next day. He had only worked infrequently with the Arabs, as they had quite a good amount of their own resources to exercise in the interests of filling their Harems, and had a quite a good amount of stock already in their thrall, but, from time to time, especially now that he had started taking higher profile assignments, he had been able to provide them with minor celebrities that had caught their eye.
“Nothing from the pages of Playboy”, he had told them, they could be bought legally anyway, at least for a period of time, but from some of the less mainstream publications, they could ‘consider it a catalogue.’
It was also nice for Alex to have some contacts in that part of the world as it made the thought of opening a branch office more realistic. One of his clients, for example, had given him a small parcel of land in a remote part of the country as a way of thanking Alex for an order he was especially pleased with. The problem with using the land, however, was the same problem as dealing with a sovereignty ruled by one man; they can be capriciousness. It would not do to have the land, and, after developing it, have it later be later re-annexed back into the nation if the Sovereign (who was, alas, not a client) were to somehow become displeased.
However, if the land could be developed in such a manner as to allow for a more fluid (less committed) operation, one with a quick logistic turnaround in case liquidation and flight proved necessary, then it could prove to be a haven. Some of the people in Cherish had started to voice conservative opinions about some of the processes and methods Alex and Dr. Spencer employed. It was not the final results they were upset with, of course, only the way in which they were achieved, and this was in much the same way that a woman might enjoy her cosmetics but whine about the fact that they had been tested on animals; there was no pleasing some people.
So, Alex had been talking to Spencer, and, if Spencer’s personal security could be guaranteed (‘I’d be working their too Herbert’) and escape plans and emergency evacuation procedures could be put in place Spencer Labs could see a branch opening (with a possible entire relocation) in the near future. It was all a matter of politics really. The board had voted to allow the Doctor and his clinic to continue to operate, but, moral qualms with developmental methods aside, another Cherish business was simply using public perceptions about the lab to help themselves corner the market.
Alex sighed, maybe it would be simpler to have the research and experimental procedures done in a part of the world where they would all but be operating in their own fiefdom. The existing buildings in Cherish would remain of course, but they would stop doing research and become more of a factory for already accepted procedures and processing. The profit margin could be maintained; in fact it would cost less to operate the research and women’s studies areas of the business in Arabia as the cost of acquisition of unspecified female bodies was less expensive. If they could figure out some religiously acceptable cover story they might even be able to take unwanted female births off of the hands of families who would otherwise bury their female children in the sand.
Alex sighed again, the whole thing was giving him a headache, all of the logistics. He had done it all before in the nurturing bosom of Cherish but that had not been from scratch, this would be like developing a Cherish all on his own and it was complicated. There were cultural differences as well, while he could hire people to translate it was the hallmark of a good business that discretion be maintained, and additional people meant more inquiry into what exactly they did at S.I. LLC.”
It wouldn’t be as though there were any Senators that could be paid off either, or any lobbying for legislature: Streuth smiled at that thought though, for he could count on one hand the amount of bills that Congress had passed in the past month that had not had the inclusion of some small, technical addition written by his own pen. On the other hand, though, that could be as much a boon as a bother, while there wouldn’t be an easy out if a problem were to occur with the ruling family, it would also be a lot more difficult for them to upset the ruling family (seeing as how, with a family in charge, there would be fewer people to keep pleased.) Again, the matter of discretion would play a large role in minimizing the need for this type of ‘damage control.’
He momentarily entertained the paranoid fantasy of some research subject’s angry brother riding out in the middle of the night and dismembering him in his sleep due to some sloppily-researched acquisition. . . Ahh, here in the states, with due process, and bureaucratic corruption it was so much simpler. If he made a mistake during an order he simply filed the paperwork and appropriate payouts were made. The less anyone knew of Cherish’s true purpose the better, and people were always happy to take a bribe so long as they thought they were part of some ‘good old boy’ system. ‘Scratch yours you’ll scratch mine’ Alex thought.
And therein lied the crux, he realized. The reason he was nervous about setting up an ancillary operation in the Middle East, was that, aside from a few customers, he didn’t really know anybody.
—Well, he checked his calendar, gazing at the note he had just made, Ali Maalik, hmmm, surely an Arabian name if any, but was he connected?
First things first, he would have to meet the man and do a little fact-finding. He could count on the other hand (several times over) the amount of times he met someone in person who had perhaps, ah, misrepresented themselves over the phone. Usually an upset husband or other non-Cherish affiliated person who had gotten his number from a friend of a friend but who would simply be better off with a private detective.
Alex usually directed them to the offices of one of the P.I.’s who worked near him, his referrals acting as nice barter for the returned ‘professional courtesy’ [as Alex represented himself as a felloe P. I.] of a tip-off in the event that any of them had been contacted by potential clients who were interested in investigating him.
Having this small gaggle of professional ‘friends’ gave Alex the space that he needed, both physically and mentally, to operate the small corporate headquarters and front for Streuth Industries in a busy, modern city replete with a major airport, and safely away from Cherish proper.
—It was a very short distance therefore, for Alex to have to travel to meet Mr. Maalik, as he had agreed to fly into town and meet the next day in a diner. After doing a quick, surreptitious sweep of the area and of his client with discreet anti-espionage devices (ubiquitous in the P.I. industry) to determine if any of the area was bugged (‘can’t be too paranoid’, Alex thought, especially after having had to deal with some individuals who had been reporters) he settled down for their talk:
Aurora Nightingale is a lesbian, is she, Alex thought, smiling to himself, as the conversation continued. “Mr. Prince (the two had settled on this moniker for Maalik) you can rest assured that this order can and will be completed in a detailed and timely manner.” Alex twirled the little umbrella in his drink. He glanced to the side as though checking for privacy (although he already knew they were speaking in privacy due to his devices, but, he wanted to affect an air of confidentiality and this gesture was almost universally known throughout the world as saying ‘and now, what I’m about to tell you next is for your ears only, you’re special!’) before continuing in a hushed tone: “You can even be there for the acquisition, would you like that?” Alex smiled a little more evilly as he watched his client’s eyes light up.
“Yes, Mr. Streuth, that would be,” Prince paused for a moment, pursing his lips and getting a radiant glow across his face, “that would be very good.”
Alex sniffed a little, rubbing his left index finger across his nose in self-consciousness of their poses. He straightened up and again resumed a mask of propriety, he made a little moue, considering their next move. “Well, I’ll tell you what, there’s really no reason to wait, why don’t we travel together now, and we can get this done right away actually.”
Ali looked at him in surprise and then, after a moment, nodded. He followed Alex into his van.
—“The thing with performers, you see, especially ones who are not famous really outside of a locality, and those here in Las Vegas, mostly, qualify, is that their appetites for attention from people who they think can get them national exposure is huge.”
Prince thought about this for a second and then agreed, tacitly.
“Well let me tell you, watch, when we get there, you will have to stay away, since they know what you look like, but, watch, you will see.”
Alex pulled behind the theatre, parking in the area for deliveries, backing in so that the back of the van was close to the loading door and then hopped out. He had on a delivery man uniform, and underneath a formal outfit so that he could make a quick-change. He walked up to the loading door and tipped his utility hat to one of the men working nearby. He waved and then continued his work. Alex got a large crate out of the back of the van, large enough to hold two bound women, and loaded it onto a dolly, before wheeling it out and knocking on the loading door. No one answered but after a moment the man Alex had tipped his hat to earlier came running up with a set of keys and unlocked it for him, making slight apology.
“Just sign here please”, Alex said, showing him a standard delivery manifest with the big red letters ‘Signer is responsible for any damage, and, under the terms of insurance, can be liable for up to $100,000 or the maximum allowed by law.’
The man looking hesitantly at the crate and then motioned for Alex to take it inside, “Uh, they’ll sign for it in there.”
Alex balked a tiny bit but pushed the crate inside, parking it just inside and closing the door behind him. He levered the top of the crate off so that he revealed the contents, a bouquet of flowers and a heavy suitcase. He changed out of his workman’s outfit, picked up the flowers and the heavy suitcase and lumbered down the hall to the star’s door.
He pressed his ear up against it and could hear the tell-tale sound of Sapphic lovemaking. He smiled to himself, then knocked loudly on the door, giving the two women time to clean up. He was slightly surprised to not find any security posted to the door but assumed it was far enough away from showtime that they might not have come on-duty yet. [The young women had, in fact, sent their security detail away so that they could have their ‘business meeting’ in private.] He was also delighted to find the women here, he wasn’t sure if he would have to come by later. No doubt they had taken the opportunity to ‘conference’ in privacy now so as to avoid the later crowd.
Gail opened the door, looking annoyed but then her face melting to mildly pleasant surprise when she saw Streuth [or at least, his suit and his expensive watch.] Alex poured on the charm, making a big deal of the fact that he was carrying a heavy suitcase, pretending infirmity and slowly making his way inside through bluster and smiles.
Gail offered to help him with the suitcase, and he was happy to give it to her. She had bought his story of fame and money and rocketing to stardom and she was eager to see what kind of offer was in the case Alex was bringing in. A moment later Alex strode over to Aurora and offered her the flowers, she reached out to get them so Alex turned his head away, motioning for Gail to open the case. Both women leaned in to a spray of knock-out gas as Alex pulled the lip of his tuxedo up over his face to prevent accidental inhalation. He folded the flowers inside-out, pulling the wrap up over them, as designed, and then slipping them in his vest.
He grabbed two large trash bags out of the case, unfolding the case itself to form a gurney, and then wrapped Gail and put her onto it, hurrying her unconscious body down the hall before folding it into the large crate. Usually this work would be done by a retrieval team but Alex had seen it done a hundred times and was getting a thrill working on his own. He carried a stun gun in his hip pocket in case anyone came upon him. He went back and got Aurora’s body into the second bag, loaded her up onto the gurney and then took her down the hall. It was almost too easy.
After getting both of them into the crate he folded the suitcase up again, went back to the room and turned on the vents to clear the gas out of the room, and then packed up some of the girls clothes and their purses to hint at a voluntary egress.
He went back to the loading door and after putting the workmen’s uniform back on he went out with the crate. The man who had helped him earlier looked at him curiously and he replied with a grumpy look “Wrong address” and the man laughed softly.
Loaded up and ready to go Alex took off, inviting Mr. Prince, who had dutifully remained hidden in the back of the van during the operation to open the crate and view its contents.
Chapter 2 – Some Remedy is Reached
Gail woke, groggily, moaning softly at a dull ache in her temple. She felt sort of numb all over, just a bit, and shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She heard the tinkle of little bells. She opened her eyes, but darkness greeted her, she was confused, and felt a sense of vertigo. She tried swinging around with her arms to feel the floor, but felt nothing. She tried to open her eyes again but they were already open. Seated, as she was, on a lush cushion of fine Arabian pillow, her legs numb and unresponsive to her commands, it felt as though her entire bottom half was missing. Her arms were similarly numb, and, while they flailed around, smacking into each other and dangling like the limbs of a marionette, she could not sense their presence. She felt their weight, slightly, in her shoulders and upper body, but, other than that, she was clueless.
She tried blowing air next; to push whatever might be in front of her away, to clear her vision. She tried squinting, but through all her efforts she saw only black. Slowly, accompanied by the sound of rustling, she could see a slight gauzy haze opening up in front of her. The haze became brighter, as though layers of her vision were being given to her, painstakingly slowly though, because Ali was enjoying her helplessness and was not being quick in giving anything to her, least likely her sight.
She was in a room, lit moodily in red and pink, with lilac and incense in the air, the sounds and smells coming to her as more material was lifted from her face. She could hear soft moaning in the distance, and the familiar sound of feminine bodies rubbing against each other. A male hand was moving up and down in front of her face, she was very nervous now, in this strange place, and she tried to remember what had happened.
Eventually all of the veils had been removed except for one, and she could see almost clearly now. That bastard boy who had interrupted her and Aurora earlier, giving her such a fright that anyone might know their secret, was here, in front of her now. She struggled to thrash against him and could see her arms now, though she could not feel them. She threw them against him, dumbly, not caring that they were acting as dead weight on her body. Instead of her finely coordinated defenses coming to her aid, her martial arts training that had felled this man-boy so quickly in the past, she wept at the sight of her now useless arms bumbling about in a feeble mockery of their previous grandness.
“Hello puppet,” Ali said, mockingly. He showed a toothy grin, bringing his hairy face close up next to hers and moving in to absorb her mounting fear. His breath stank a bit and she recoiled from him, leaning backwards until she was lying down on the pillows, her legs still leaden and numb, anchoring her to her position. “Mmmm, you sure do look much more pretty now, though don’t you. Not so tough now?”
She might not be able to beat him the way her mind was aching to, but she could certainly voice her quickly rising anger, anger that this, this, boy would dare to treat her in such a way. Anger that he was here, now, slowly moving to mount her, she, Gail, who had never enjoyed a man’s touch and never had sex with a man in her life. She, Gail, who had acted so like a man in her relationship with Aurora and had enjoyed smashing this upstart’s balls in the last time they had met. She, who, who, right now, was being pushed, down, further into the pillows, by, this, hated, man, who, right, now, was, was, oh God no.
Ali smiled nastily down at her as he started twiddling with her pants, untying the rope that held them tight to her frame, and then sliding them down, exposing her netherveils. He continued his pleasant smile, letting the tension build, as, one by one he began to pluck these sheets of tissue paper thin pieces of defense from her private spot. With each one he removed he held it up for her to see before tossing it, crumpled, to the side.
“Nrgg, nrgg!” Gail yelled, her numb tongue slurring her speech. She wasn’t even sure she had a tongue but Ali grinned and showed teeth when he saw it flopping about stupidly in her mouth. To prevent any mishaps her teeth had been removed during surgery, giving her a pleasantly harmless hole where once had been a tiger’s maw.
“What’s that puppet, you want me to stop? Puppets don’t get to give orders to their Masters, oh no they don’t, puppets do what they’re told, and they don’t talk unless they’re supposed to.”
Ali continued to slowly remove the tissue veils from in front of her cunny, but snapped his right hand to signal the operator above when he had gotten down to the last couple.
Suddenly, without warning, and certainly against her wishes, Gail stood straight up, now realizing that her limbs had bands running around them, which in turn had wires attached. Without any response from her, her limbs (all of them now the proud owners of useless tendons) jumped around as though performing a dance. The operator above was controlling her movements with the wires, coordinating her movements currently to just make her stand and move jerkily, she looked quite silly when she moved, like a toy doll. The wires that ran to her arms and legs were the only ones taut, however, the other ones were not: Ali looked up at the operator and barked an order in Arabic. The operator sweated for a moment before finding fixing the error.
The tension on Gail’s limbs suddenly ceased, not that she had felt it before, but prior to that moment the operator had been, foolishly, supporting her via just her arm and leg wires, not utilizing the support wires attached around her torso, thighs, and the top of her head. Her movements became much more regular now, giving her a semblance of grace, while retaining the slight hurky motions of a puppet that had Ali clapping for her.
“Very good, very good my puppet, now dance for me.” Gail began to dance, her eyes glowing hatred for her captor, a dark fuel powering up inside of her, coal smoke burning in her mind, a fire raging, consuming, her every desire becoming to rip the man’s head off and smash his eyes in. Such thoughts were easily read behind her features, and Ali had no illusions as to her wishes, but she was impotent, a tool, useless as a person now, and so much fun to watch. Her breasts heaved and fell, jiggling mightily under the ministrations of the unseen puppeteer. They felt inordinately heavy, and as Gail stared, she realized that they were at least three times as large as before.
“What the fuck!” she yelled, but it came out more like “Nrrg, nrrg, nrrg!’ Ali clapped for her again, politely, amused by her attempts at speech, before walking over to her and snatching the thin gauzy pink veils individually from off each of her gigantic tits. Where before they had held some semblance of mystery swaying and bobbling under the floating semi-transparent veils they were now bare. Gail’s fat nipples stared back at Ali and he laughed at how readily she was plucked. He gripped her heavy teats in his hands and felt their weight. Gail flinched as he pinched the nipples. Next he played with them like punching bags, watching them recoil and then bounce forwards again.
He stopped this to grope them, squeezing them before pushing them apart and watching them bounce back. Amused by the look of horror on Gail’s face, he continued to play with them, smacking them down playfully and watching them bounce back up, the augmentation keeping them pointing out prettily from her torso at an almost perpendicular angle. “So lovely,” he said.
Gail fumed, but, slowly, her mind was being overwhelmed, she couldn’t keep this anger up in the face of her helplessness and her body being treated like an object only made it worse. She felt, as her limbs danced her around, more and more, as her artificial tits were put on display, as though she were an object. She had felt, initially, as though she were a prisoner trapped in this body, and that this body was a toy, a plaything; that she was inside of it. But now, where before her limbs had felt only numbness, her tits, surprisingly, were more sensitive than before, and as Ali played with them she felt herself drawn out, until she was a part of the toy, as though the puppet he was playing with was her.
When he moved in to caress her cheek and the nerves in her face felt him stroking her the reality of it all just came rushing in: Her voice was gone, her body was gone, she was trapped, and sitting on a plush cushion, in a room in Prince’s house, and no one knew where she was. No one was coming to help her, the surgery had changed her beyond recognition and she was no longer herself.
It happened, suddenly, but Ali had been watching for it, one moment her eyes were shooting daggers at him, full of defiance and malice, and the next they took on a dreamy, introspective quality, he slowed the percussive beating on her tits he was doing and motioned for the lighting to dim and for her ‘dance’ to end. He waited a moment longer, leaned in a bit in anticipation, and when she burst into tears and despaired, anguished and horrified, beaten and broken he leaned in and kissed her.
He felt her sobs under his mouth as he cradled her head and invaded her mouth with his tongue. Her cries were slightly muffled, but he drank them in, feeling the shakes of her head and the vibrations caused by her caterwauling. He kissed her with passion, soaking in her defeat and capitulation until she slowly stopped, her cries getting softer, her shaking slower. Soon she was still and he was still kissing her, cradling her. After a moment or two she closed her eyes, the tears drying up, and he caressed her, holding her close, comforting her.
“There there dolly, it will be alright, it will be alright.” He held her and rocked her head in his arms, lulling her to calm and quiet, letting her feel his warmth and strength. He would return in a few hours to mock her and jeer at her again, until she burst into tears and he would lean in to comfort. He was patient, waiting for her to reach out to him, to accept him as her patron. It happened on the fourth go-round, she was feeling beyond herself, as though she had let go of who she was, time had ceased to have meaning, she was just a doll now, she was still a person, but she didn’t know who she was now, Gail had evaporated over the course of the day. She was being cradled by him, and she was empty inside, but she felt his warmth fill her, despite his previous cruelty he was all she had now and she leaned into him.
He felt her reciprocation and smiled. He patted her on the head, stroking her hair and cooed to her. She smiled. “There there dolly, everything will be alright.”
She smiled again, feeling his warmth on her face. He reached down and stroked her tits, feeling their ripe fullness, their skin stretched taut over the overfilled implants. “There there dolly, everything will be alright.”
He took out a pacifier, molded after his cock and put it up to her lips, she was so eager for contact at this point that she welcomed the intruder into her mouth and sucked on it gladly. Her mouth occupied, Ali gazed into her eyes and stroked her hair, comforting her some more. He asked her if she was sleepy, and she nodded yes. He asked her if she was hungry, and she nodded yes. He took a heavy veil, made from black latex, and placed if over her head, blinding her and covering her face fully. She could not make any sounds and could not see, so she shook her head in protest.
Ali motioned for the lighting to come back up, so that the room was bright again. He waited a few moments, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness under the heavy veil, before raising it up a bit and letting her get the shock of the bright light. She immediately shook her head to the side, yanking the veil from his grip and retreating once again into the darkness. Ali smiled to himself.
He guided the cushion over to the side of the room, opening a door with a star on it, marked with Gail’s name. Once open the door revealed a small closet of a room, barely big enough to accommodate its new occupant. Shoving the gagged and veiled doll into the alcove Ali went about hooking up her tubing. He removed the stopper from his end of the penis-gag, so that it was now hollow and could accommodate girth. He saved that pleasure for later though, needing to get her ready for the night. He stuck a feeding hose into the gag, making sure it locked into place, and then leaned her head back into the cushion, running a strap around her neck to hold her there. She struggled slightly but once she started sucking the warm paste through the tube she calmed down, it had a mild sedative in it.
Next he hooked up her nether plumbing so that it would drain properly and then closed and locked the door.
He could come back and check on his star whenever he wanted to. She was now perfectly homeostatic; the cushion functioning to massage her muscles while she remained stationary, so that she did not waste away. He could come back in 3 minutes or 3 months and there would be no change. The mild sedative would serve to keep her from remaining lucid for too long and would leave her mind dreamy while she her body was safe and secure. At the moment Ali was feeling beneficent and so adjusted her audio to play her gentle and pleasant sounds, ones that would reassure and comfort her. If she ever misbehaved he could change her audio to predatory and unsettling sounds as a punishment.
He stood over her, basking in his mastery over her, breathing in and breathing out, letting the sight of her helpless form comfort him until he was no longer troubled by the thought of Gail the ball-crusher. He watched her, her facial features obliterated by the veil, and he thought of her powerlessness, her inability to move or to speak, her dependence on him for life, and he smiled. He walked over to her and patted her on the head, she was now his toy, and he would come back to play with her later.
—He sighed, relieved that everything had gone smoothly thus far, and settled down to a sumptuous supper before returning to check on Gail again. He opened the closet door a bit, peeking in and half-expecting her to jump out and drop-kick him. Realizing his fear he grew angry, determined that he do something to end it immediately, there was no reason to be afraid of this woman.
He pushed the door violently open the rest of the way and saw her, the perfect specimen of his own devices, exactly where he had left her, drinking out of her phallus and peeing into the tube. He immediately softened, chiding himself for getting upset over such a thing. Where had he even gotten the idea that she might still be a threat. She was just a toy, here, in the closet, she could not do anything to him. He walked up next to her and took his pants off, massaging his manhood into full hardness. He grasped her veiled face in his clutch, noting that she was slowly stirring out of her light slumber, and, holding her steady, he slapped the side of her head with his erect cock.
She made an indistinct but sharp sound in response and he slapped her again. She made a lower sound this time, which he correctly interpreted as withdrawal. She was not challenging him, she was accepting his punishment. He turned her face the other way and began to beat her rapidly, slapping his cock into her face and then readying it for another whap. After a few moments of this he paused to gauge her reaction. He studied her veil, listening, and he could hear quiet sobbing, it was somewhat muffled so he lifted the veil. Underneath he saw that she still had the gag in her mouth so he took the feeder tube out, leaving it hollow, and unmuffled.
She had been sobbing but now he could hear her swallowing and apparently trying to form some words. “Rut wid I thoo wong?” she was saying, over and over in a small voice.
“There there,” he replied, soothing her. “Its ok, I just wanted to make sure you were awake.” She stopped whimpering and apparently accepted this explanation because she did not say anything. He could tell she was still somewhat tense though. He imagined that if she and he were in a room with a pistol and she was capable of movement they would both be jumping for it right about now.
He reached for it first, gripping the sides of her head and then trying to force his cock down into her mouth. Her eyes widened and then her head shook. It was one thing for him to have gotten the gag in before, since it wasn’t pointed out to her what it was cast from, nor was she feeling as needy now as she was then. She intended to not have it in her mouth, and Ali was more than happy to fight with her over it.
In fact, he didn’t rush it, even though he wanted to. He moved slowly, letting her maneuver away, before darting before her again. He pressed with his hands to keep her head still and she fought back with her neck muscles, trying to escape the foreign intrusion.
He guessed that she had never had a man in her mouth before. And that gave him an idea, maybe she had never had a man anywhere before. “Ok, you don’t want it? That’s ok.” He stopped and she relaxed. “But tell me, have you ever been with a man?” She shook her head no. “Are you sure, not at all?” She again shook her head no.
“No you’re not sure or no you haven’t ever been with a man?”
“O, I ahnt der en ert a ran.”
“Ok just one more thing, I need you to tell the policemen outside that we are friends who are just having fun ok?” Ali smiled inwardly when he said this because of course the next thing she was going to do was scream, and that was exactly what he was planning on.
“No, don’t quit screaming, that feels nice, oh yeah, some women, you know, they don’t understand that blowing and sucking are an important part of it, you can’t just be dead weight, you’ve got to treat it like a lover, you know?”
She had stopped screaming past his cock and swallowed, trying to form some argument, his grip on the sides of her head was adamant now, this was no game, she was not getting away. As she swallowed he pushed farther into her mouth, bumping into the back of her throat, an area that no man had ever been before, no cock had ever touched, and he luxuriated in the knowledge that ‘he was her first.’
He could hear her gagging and glucking underneath him as he sped up, he pressed the back of her head into his crotch and bucked forward and backward, engaged in intercourse with her face. He thought of the delights he had yet to explore, and about the immense satisfaction he would get being the first man to grace the back of her throat with his gifts. He grunted, oh god she was so tight, she had such nice bone structure but an angular and rather small face.
He pictured her lips kissing another woman’s, and now he saw her mouth gulping his cock, her lips kissing his cock, and he thought of his cock inside of the other woman’s mouth, so that he was now fucking the face of Gail and her lesbian friend, and, mmmmmm, he bucked into her face, he could hear her struggling now for breath, she too was bucking violently, but she was well bound and not going anywhere, besides, he had all of the leverage.
Seconds later his salty discharge shot past her tonsils. He groaned, and relaxed, which allowed her a tiny bit of air while she gulped down his emissions. She would have liked to have vomited it back up but air was such a precious commodity at the moment that she was not going to argue.
He relaxed into her, his body pushing back down onto her, her breath becoming labored again, before he realized what he was doing and he came to his senses. He blinked and then stared down at her, his needs fulfilled he was all business again. While ordinarily he would just as soon leave her without saying anything he felt like saying something since this was her first time with a man.
“Well Gail, I’m glad we were finally able to be formally introduced.”
He walked out of the small closet, and turned to watch his perfectly tamed Gail before closing and locking the door.
Next he would visit Aurora and make sure that she was still secure.
Chapter 3 – In for a Song
Aurora lived inside of a golden cage, with a black veil shrouding the entirety of it, so that no light got in. She drank from a tube on the side of the bars, and could eat from a small trough that dispensed seed, her waste accumulated under her in a shallow space beneath the bottom of her cage.
Ali pulled back the heavy black veil and smiled at his wondrous treasure. He checked her water to make sure she had enough, and checked her seed level. He reached down to remove the wide and shallow collection pan that ran the length and width of the underside of her cage. He emptied it and then re-papered it before putting it back.
“Sing for me my Nightingale.” Aurora looked nervous and cocked her head to the side, studying him. She looked at him with nervous eyes, aware that this man controlled her fate. She was still perfectly in possession of all of her mental faculties so she strained again to beg for release. She cringed when the only sounds that came out of her mouth were those that had come out earlier: “Chirp, tweet, twee-eet, chirp, chirp, tweet-tweet.”
“Lovely,” Ali said.
He watched her for a few moments, admiring the graceful curve of her neck, and the way her aquiline nose peaked at the tip. He flashed her a smile as she continued to sing for him, and even though it had a nervous tenor to it he was sure that it was only stage fright. He let the cover of the veil fall back down, so that the cage returned to its stance of solitude. It would not do to visit her too often as he did not want to upset her. He thought back to the unsettling images in his mind from the night Gail and Aurora had been embracing each other, thinking that it was a perfect example of the type of thing that she needed to be protected from. She was safe now and that was what mattered, she could continue her song in peace and he would remain a faithful admirer of her from afar.
He smiled, happy and content knowing that she would be here, and his, safe, forever, and began the long climb back down the ladder. He would visit again, perhaps when she was sleeping, to change her tray and give her food and water, but he did not want to disturb her peaceful beauty. Her radiance was best left untouched and virginal. The veil that covered her protected her from the intrusion of outside eyes.
On the ground again he looked up to the top of the perch, where Aurora rested in her cage, fully thirty feet off the ground. He cranked the ladder back down, so that it occupied only its base height of four feet, and then he relaxed into a chair nearby. He pushed the button to transmit the sound from her cage down so that he might hear her song. At that moment he was hearing pleasant warbles even as Aurora tried to call out ‘Hello? Come back! Let me out, please! Hello?’
As he relaxed into satisfied slumber he heard the anguishes screams of despair of the horribly modified woman who was once again visiting the pain and terror at having just that morning woken up in a cage with malformed legs hooked into mechanical grips at the end, perfectly bent to resemble an avian’s, and arms amputated and replaced with heavy back weight in the form of decorative wings; but the modulation of her voice, her radiant, joyous voice, into this horrible mockery of speech was what pained her the most.
All of that pain was transmuted by her vocal implant though, so that as Ali listened to her sing he heard only pleasant and blissful chirps, “Chirp, tweetle-tweetle tweet tweet! Chirp, chirp chirp-chirp chirp. Tweet, tweet twee-eet tweet, chirp chirp, chirp chirp” confirming that he had been right all along, that Aurora had only needed a man to train her to set her free.
He continued to enjoy her melodious voice as he drifted off to a pleasant sleep, quite unaware that Aurora was even now screaming in agony at a new horror that confronted her. This morning she had convinced herself it was all a dream and had fallen asleep. She had woken when she had heard steps on the ladder, and now, after Ali had goaded her into beginning to use her voice she found she could not stop. It seemed that any thought that she had was instantly translated into ‘speech.’ She tried hard now to not think, and after some practice was able to stop herself from chirping for a few moments. After several hours of effort she was able to clear her mind of thought and gain silence. It was then that she was able to fall asleep.
Ali woke up, the blissful sounds of sweet song had slowly petered off and Alex had promised him that he would be greeted by warm sounds from his pet for as long as he desired. He consulted the manual that Alex had given him and then smiled at the simple remedy.
He pressed a button and a mechanism pulled the veil off of the cage. After a few moments a slew of rapid song emerged from the transmitter and he happily rolled over and went back to sleep.
Aurora bawked at this intrusion, a bright flash of light had woken her from her slumber and immediately roused her to loud thought: ‘What? What is that? Oh no, I just spoke, no no no no no, I want to stop thinking, but I’m thinking now, what was that light, where did it come from…’ It was impossible for her to get back to sleep, a bright light surrounded her from all sides, it was yellow, maybe sunlight, but she could see no features, she could see inside the cage, herself, her immediate surroundings, but she was so high up that she could see only the light and now she was talking loudly and rapidly. After some time she resigned herself to her wakefulness and decided that, while she was thinking she might as well think about important things, you know, exercise her mind, enlighten herself.
She tried, but any long thoughts became interrupted by the irritation she felt at the sound of her own squawking (While its sound might be melodious to someone else, to her, trapped and mocked as she was by it, it had quickly had become unbearable.)
The rest of the day was spent in fits of sleep interrupted by flashes of light and squawks, chirps, warbles, short thoughts, periods where she tried to banish her mind of thought, and then failure or success followed by startling awake again.
She looked forward to when Ali came to visit her, as it gave her the only real interaction with anything other than her own unbearable self trapped in the darkness under the veil, he hardly ever talked to her as a person, preferring instead to talk to her about herself as though she were incapable of human thought, as though she were a bird.
There was not a whole lot she could do about it though and she dreaded the time when he had finished filling her food and water and changed her cage, it meant that she would be alone again.
When he had first lingered for a few moments it had made her very happy to not see him leave right away. She could tell he was deliberating some internal argument, but it seemed after a few moments he reached a decision and he reached towards her through the cage. ‘This is it!’ she thought, and it came out “Chirp! Chirp-chirp tweet!” ‘He’s going to let me go!’ “Tweet tweet tweete-eet!”
Ali uncurled his outstretched hand to reveal some sweetcorn, the perfect treat for his darling Nightingale. Aurora cried inside, quietly then, and, then leaned her neck down to peck the treats from his hand. Afterwards she did not chirp for several moments. She had no desire to so but her mouth spoke her thoughts and she warbled on happily for a bit. Inside she was dead and miserable, but she continued to chirp happily and to emit sounds of pleasant joy from her mouth. She missed Gail awfully and cried and cried, her sobs coming out as happy sounds that blended together melodiously. She wanted to cry out for Gail but all that came out was a series of short peeps. She gave up on her thoughts and tried to clear them, resorting to other things to occupy her mind in an effort to shovel them all off into a hole so that they would not bother her, anything to stop that awful chirping.
—Two weeks later Aurora has been getting used to the routine. Anytime that Ali desires he can elicit a burst of song from her by taking the veil off with the press of a button. Nightingale sings about eating her food, drinking her water, and rubbing up against the bars of her cage. Sometimes she will rub against it in such a way that her song takes on a slightly throatier quality, but most of the time it is high pitched and high strung, because she has been kept awake and alert when her mind wants rest.
The songs become more cheerful and radiant the longer they are sung, however, and are just as Ali likes them, so he often puts her into service. When the veil goes back on, however, she has been getting more and more nervous, never knowing when her master will next want a performance.
—Two months later Aurora has been more fully trained. When the veil comes off she is immediately mid-song, and when it goes on she swallows her thoughts, anxious to get them gone so that she can sleep, but nervous enough that sleep never fully comes. She twitches, flinching in expectation of the rising veil, and eats and drinks a little from her perch. Time has very little meaning, there being only the time when she sings and the time when she tries hard not to think.
—Six months into her training Aurora has been completely trained without even realizing it, and is now ready for performance. Ali pushes the button and she bursts into ecstatic song, her waif-like figure honed from hours of nervous not-eating. When he pushes another switch the veil does not fall completely but hangs at a lower height, a height that she has perfected, despite conscious effort, through a vigorous regimen she has never even realized she has been on.
She cringes when it stops, afraid that it will go back up, the intensity of the light changing with its height, and her state of nervousness changing the timbre of her voice. A moment later the rest button drops the veil completely and she falls immediately into a tranced-sleep, thinking not at all, but with her eyes half-way open, as though expecting a change. For today’s performance he is conducting a piece he has written himself, and so the veil jumps back up a quarter tempo later to the E position, her voice warbling immediately at the proper pitch.
Literary notes: This tale is a gift for Dave Potter, a kindred spirit who has quite a gift with words. There are those, perhaps, who, when they write, decide that at the end of a story they should redeem their protagonist, and provide a happy ending. Mr. Potter is one of those who would agree with me when I say that this is quite unsatisfying to the reader, and, while perhaps serving to mitigate a guilty feeling the author might unduly thrust upon themselves, it does very little to perpetuate the robust fantasy that the reader has invested their time and energy in. A perfectly satisfying ending, therefore, can be found in Potter’s ‘Gabrielle van Hessel.’ Far from closing the story in a weak ‘and she escaped and ran away and lived happily ever after’ state, this story’s ending actually inspired another writer to continue where it had ended.
—Lastly, the author disclaims that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written adult story that allows the reader to indulge in their darker appetites. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at Streuthanasia@gmail.com
—Reader suggestions are always welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. that you wish inserted into the busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth please do not hesitate to contact me regarding it. I will see it I can fit your order into their schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth’s Stories for a comprehensive study.