This started as some stream-of-consciousness to work out what exactly Governess was going to do to Vartan… and then it snowballed. Lol.
Genres: Dark Erotic Fantasy, Allegory, Biopunk, Kinkpunk
Main Characters: Governess, Vartan, Rowena
Other Characters: None
Main Pairing: Governess/Rowena, Governess/Vartan
Warnings: dubcon, consensual noncon, hard D/s, soft sadism
Main Kinks: D/s, inflation, transformation, sadism, masochism, punishment
Inflation Kinks: bladder, womb, testes/sac, cock, prostate, breasts, belly, anus
Other Tags: pregnancy/breeding, lactation, genital spanking, nipple penetration, anal fucking, cock penetration, fucking machines, girl-in-a-wall (unorthodox), forced orgasm, prostate milking, edging, orgasm denial/control, ruined orgasm, conditioning, proxy noncon, castration
Tropes: Blue-Orange Morality, Casual Kinktopia, Little Bit Beastly/Furry Reminder, The Wonderland, Alternate Techline, Black Box, Steampunk, Magitek, Forced Transformation, Body Horror, Porn With Plot, Deliberate Values Dissonance, Your Normal Is Our Taboo, Man In The Machine, People Jars (sort of), Power-Upgrading Deformation, Symbolic Mutilation, Psychosexual Horror, Breeding Slave, Defiled Forever (subverted), Wife Husbandry (by Proxy, Cultural Norm), Rule of Sexy, Biopunk, Medical Horror, Madonna-Whore Complex, Orgasmatron
Author Note: The first section is fragmented monologue, and in it the Governess calls Vartan ‘good girl', whereas in the rest of the fic he is ‘good boy'. I am aware of this inconsistency, but I am not changing it. It illustrates perfectly how in the moment of masturbatory-fantasising I exclusively imagine the dominant saying ‘good girl', but in a more workaday situation I recoil from it and need ‘good boy'.
‘Oh, look at your coque, my darling, look how fat and soft and round it’s getting. That’s so much nicer than before, isn’t it?
‘I’m just going to thread this aaaall the way down your passage and into your pretty purse, darling, do you feel it filling you up? Your purse is swelling so nicely, you’ll be producing a proper amount of seed soon enough, with this treatment….
‘Your passage is going to be so nice and stretched after I’m done with you….
‘Now remember, you mustn’t enjoy the suction pump, that’s vulgar, it’s only to enlarge your coque….
‘Oh, such a tight little fundament, we must stretch it out and train you to take your meals the proper way, I’m going to rub this Stasia on you—there, can you feel your muscles weakening, loosening? The Machine is going to stretch you to such a nice big gape while it cleans you out over and over until you’re just one helpless chamber that needs to be filled by me every meal, and plugged up….
‘Your belly is expanding so nicely, why are you whimpering? Shall I bounce it for you? That will make it better—there we go, isn’t that better? Oh, and your navel is popping out so well, let’s get that in a suction cylinder—there! Such a good girl….
‘Hmm, I think your anus needs a bit of help enlarging, I’m going to just attach a nice big gravity drip for a while. … Oh, it’s puffing up so nice and shiny and big around your six inch plug, let me just rub it with some Expansia—oh yes, there we go, that’s a proper anus for a pretty knave-girl….
‘Your purse is expanding so nicely, but it’s not quite touching the floor yet, so we’ll need to keep doing our daily gravity-drips and filling it from the inside, hold still, there we are, just let the machine fill you up, darling, you’re doing so well….
‘Oh, your purse is so tight and full, darling, is that a lot? Well, you must get used to it, of course—look how round and taut your purse is, how small your chubby, stretched little coque looks! It is very becoming, my dear, such a pretty softness. I can see your little fishes swimming around in your purse, can you feel them? There’s such a lot, they’re packed in like little sardines and wiggling so? You can? It’s unbearable? Well, precious, you ought to get used to bearing it, you shan’t be letting them out until you’re married, and we must build up such a good stock of them until then, a Gentleman doesn’t marry a girl with a purse so small as to not touch the ground!
‘The plugs will have pumps now, darling, we must stretch your cock to a nice round shape. There, that’s a good start. We’ll keep stretching it every day until it’s a perfect roundness. Now, time to fatten your coque up with another gravity drip….
‘Open—open, girl—there we are, this soft posture rod will keep your head up properly! Of course, you won’t be able to talk anymore… oh my, nor eat; but then again, that’s what our enemas are for, aren’t they, my love….
‘You are so very slight, darling, I’m going to have to add another gallon to your lades—oh, don’t fuss, we must put some fat on you…
‘Look at that belly, serried so snugly—why, it’s nearly as big as your purse…’
By the end, Vartan’s purse was so huge only his toes reached the ground around it, and its surface squirmed and heaved with the fast-wriggling sperms swelling his single seminal chamber, blocked from exiting, his body still making more and more, the constant stimulation maddening enough he could no longer think of anything at all but how much he needed relief.
His coque was perfectly round and soft, the urethra dilated along the entire length at least three inches, and flaring to a bulbous shape along the outer shaft of his coque. A plug ran the entire length of his urethra and inner passages, blocking his gallon-sized bladder and the complex of passages that led to his swollen and over-producing sexual organ, which had been made into a single chamber that constantly heaved with feverish production.
His anus was helplessly slack now, the single chamber of his gut stuffed with four gallons and plugged closed, rectum filled taut with a plug that stretched his anus to a six inch gape, anus swollen tight and red from many infusions.
His navel was suctioned out now, the size of a fist and fitted with a ring tightly around the base, a chain attached to a part of the machine that constantly heaved it up and down, up and down, shaking his belly gently to further distract his mind from having any thoughts, tormenting his bladder with the vibration and heaving of his gut against it, tormenting his gut with the sloshing.
The constant talking to him of his ‘fishes’, the constant filling and shearing and massaging and patting of his purse, had made him unable to think of anything but how full his purse was, how much he needed release, how he needed to be good and always thinking of this, that it was right, that as soon as he was needed, he would be drained.
Every so often, the machine would inject something into his purse that made the sperms go wild, even as it forced his purse larger, and he whimpered and cried, but didn’t struggle anymore, knowing it was futile, that he couldn’t escape the torment.
He had learned quite a pretty helplessness, the Governess thought. She’d had to do a little extra to make sure his brain was empty, but the reinforcement of the thought-patterns she was doing was starting to do the trick. Even when he slept, his pretty holes were stretched through the night, wider and wider; and she always made sure to fill his bladder, his belly, his purse, and his prostate so full they were in danger of bursting, and he could hardly breathe, and certainly couldn’t move. He hadn’t been able to move on his own in ages now, and he’d stopped trying. He’d be ready to install into the house soon.
She loved watching his little fishes swirl and school, desperate and confused inside of their prison, panicky and trying to escape as her ministrations only made his body churn out more of them.
The bulbous bulge of the length of urethra behind Vartan’s swollen glans was perfect for anchoring the tube, and she inflated it extra tightly so it wouldn’t pull free, before taking the length that came from the end of his grapefruit-shaped coque and pulling it across the room to where Rowena was asleep in her own installation, fully recovered and prettier than any art that could be made of marble or paint. The Governess had been stretching her vagina wide enough for comfortable birth, her cervix stretched a little narrower than the tube, stretching easily as the governess fed the tube through, inflating the balloon around the tube’s opening to make sure it would stay anchored.
Then, she set the Machine to begin suctioning the air from the tube, on Vartan’s side, pulling the wriggling sperms through his widened, looping passages, the tube slowly filling with white as they were forced across to begin filling Rowena’s womb, which Governess had been making line itself with an unnaturally thick, lush lining, packed with eggs that had been building up for a full week. She watched Rowena’s belly swell, fill, the little noises Rowena made as she felt the squirming inside her delicious.
‘Oh it’s… it’s moving… oh…!’
Governess stroked her slick and naked clitoris with her hand, and Rowena’s cries got higher-pitched and breathless.
‘Theeeere,’ Governess crooned, still stroking. ‘That’s better, isn’t it? Do you feel them, they’re going to grow babies inside you, my darling.’
Rowena was overwhelmed, feeling horribly wrong from all the things wiggling inside her, filling her. ‘It’s—so much of them…’
‘Yes, we have to make sure it takes,’ Governess said, and reached down to feel how Rowena’s inner petals were swelling, pressing the tube in place. ‘Gooood girl,’ she murmured, ‘your clitty’s holding them aaaaall in, my darling, just like a good Lady… now, you really must orgasm for Governess, it’s only right for a Lady to come from being properly fertilised—good girl,’ she purred, feeling Rowena’s clit start to twitch in her hands, as Rowena’s face turned into the most beautiful expression of overwhelmed, beautifully confused, agonised pleasure. The Governess knew transferring those sperms, made strong and aggressive by being penned up, into Rowena’s womb—which she’d made overly sensitive—was agony, was a sensation so overwhelmingly queer that Rowena was trembling all over and her helpless body was unsure if it should be horrified or pleased, in pain or nauseated or warm with pleasure…
And that was exactly as the Governess wanted it, she thought, as she kept stroking—forcing Rowena’s body to orgasm would train her body, and that was the point—Governesses were supposed to make their girls entirely reliant on Governess to give cues as to what they were meant to think, and feel, and a skilled Governess could make that go deep enough that the flesh was even made so helplessly confused. As she watched Rowena orgasm, watched her belly swell to the point that the skin was thin enough to see the sperms fighting one another to fertilise her eggs, the Governess let herself glow with selfish pleasure, proud of her work. She was not fettered by the desires of anyone but herself, here….
Once she exhausted that clitoris, Rowena swooning, the Governess kissed her damp forehead. ‘Goooood girl,’ she crooned, seeing Rowena’s brow smooth and her lips twitch upward. She had the Machine ready an expanding cervical plug, but not stop pumping her womb full just yet—there was still so much left; she glanced at the pressure gauge as she passed it, and saw it was now having to exert a bit of pressure to keep stuffing her womb full. Good, she needed the stretch.
She had mixed plenty of sedative into Vartan’s lade before pumping him full, and so he was only in a dreamy half-consciousness, able to gasp and make pretty, helpless facial expressions, but the soft plug filling his throat preventing him from ever speaking—or swallowing—again. It held his head tilted up, baring a long column of white throat. The Governess kissed it gently, stroking his laden belly’s hairless, taut curve, until her fingertips brushed his navel, suctioned huge and shaped by a snug band around the knot; she toyed with the little button with her fingertips, knowing the sensitive little knotted scar would send weird but maddeningly arousing tingles straight to his intubated coque.
‘Does it feel good, having your purse drained?’
He actually hummed, a shaky little answer that nonetheless signalled affirmative.
‘Have you been watching it get pumped into Rowena, and fill her little womb? She is so fertile, look at her—oh, her little navel just everted, how sweet!’
Vartan made a soft whimper.
‘Hm? You thought you would get to come when I said you would be drained? Oh no no, darling, we can’t have that. You orgasm when I want you to, little love, and I haven’t decided how you should orgasm, yet.’ She lifted her hand from his belly and checked the state of his purse. It was smaller now, and she could see the suctioning having effect, as the chamber emptied. She finally switched the pump off and pulled the tubing out of Rowena, the Machine inserting a retention plug that began expanding immediately, stretching her cervix tight, the rest expanding to keep her vagina nicely stretched, gently pushing it ever wider—it wasn’t quite the diameter of the babies she was going to bear, not yet….
The Governess got an idea, as the tubing was in her hands; she had the Machine hollow out Rowena’s urethral plug, and meanwhile gently pushed the tubing through the balloon-lock inside Vartan’s shaft, the tubing sliding easily through it, deeper into the boy’s body, the Governess deftly pressing on his abdomen and directing the tubing up into his full bladder. The pressure of the last few sperms inside the tubing, trapped by the seal on the end of the tube the Governess was holding, kept his bladder from emptying into the tubing, kept him from relief. When the Machine was done hollowing Rowena’s plug, she pushed the end of the tube in, and had the Machine reverse the suction, emptying Rowena’s bladder into Vartan’s bladder, pushing the last few furious little fishes into that delicate chamber.
Vartan began to whimper, and then the noises got more frantic, as he felt his bladder fill, and then felt small blunt-nosed things begin to squirm and swim inside of it, not allowing him relief, better than the shaking and massaging the Governess subjected him to daily, unable to void even as his body stupidly panicked, his bladder beginning to eventually twitch and spasm with terror. But it was trapped, and the stretch eventually forced the calm the Governess had been forcing on his body for weeks. She had spoken of curing his nerves, and every hole she forced to relax open, every part of him she filled until it was tight and open and couldn’t tense… he had never expected that eliminating all responsibilities, all activity, and simply making his only purpose his body, and then working her feminine magic on that, forcing his flesh to submit to her calm, would be the cure… but, oh, the wonderful agony of it. He was feeling better, blissful even though he felt taut as a bowstring in a different way, held so wide and open and helpless… was this how girls felt? She had said it was, that she was doing what she could to make him a knave-girl, a helpmeet to her and Rowena, his purse forced to develop properly, to fill and fill, as she stretched him, and made him reliant on her, on the wonderful Machine he’d always fantasised about being installed into….
As his purse was pumped out, no orgasm needed, the pleasure a maddening agony that blotted out his thoughts, Vartan watched the pretty lady across the room fill up, her belly swelling as he watched, as he felt the Machine take from him what was filling her up…
He loved her, he loved her, he loved her, he thought deliriously, as he watched her full teats pushed to either side as her belly swelled.
Governess had taught him that his navel was the only thing she would toy with, that his coque was to be stretched, and swollen, until it could no longer grow hard, could no longer penetrate anything, but was to be penetrated. She never let his body do anything it willed, nor derive pleasure from it; he had to take pleasure at what she did, and found that while it had begun as strange sensations, it now was something he craved—whatever she did, he felt pleasure from knowing it was her will, that she was paying attention to him.
Her treatment made him realise that was all he’d ever wanted was to be shaped, was to be paid attention.
He whimpered and even cried at the feeling of the “little fishes” wiggling and squirming inside his bladder, at the stretch as more was forced inside it; but it was thrilling, knowing that he was relief for Rowena, that he could be filled by her warmth as she was by his.
The Governess was stroking Rowena’s belly, crooning in her ear. ‘I’m emptying your bladder, Rowena, so your womb has more room to expand… doesn’t that feel better, my darling? And I’ll keep it in you all night, so it will keep emptying as your little belly absorbs aaall your supper, and your ovaries get to work making more eggs. They’ll be working so much harder now that they know there’s little boys in there ready to fertilise them! Do you feel them quivering as they work, hm?’
‘Nhn…’ Rowena noised in her throat, feeling her ovaries do just that. ‘H-heavy…’
‘Yes, darling, they’re going to feel heavy because they’re making multiple eggs—you’re such a good, productive little Lady for eggs! Most ladies only make one egg a day, but your body is so eager to please, my little marzipan sweetie, it started by making two at once. Now, go to sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, and draining all the extra fishes out of your womb.’
All through the night, Vartan was made to take every drop from Rowena, it began to even out, after a while, with how quickly his gut absorbed his supper, and he dozed off in a haze of dizzy pleasure. He had filled Rowena with babies, as was Proper and Right for him to do, and he had pleased Mistress, which was, also, Proper and Right for him to do, and he was currently pleasing Mistress, by giving Rowena relief. Every twinge from his bladder was blissful agony, a sign that he could be helpmeet to the prettiest Lady he’d ever seen….
Rowena felt her tiddies grow gradually tighter, even in her dreams, and had wonderful dreams from all the afterglow from the orgasms, of being milked, of her tiddies being penetrated over and over and over in slow, gentle thrusts, buzzing and humming as little fish swam their way inside her nipples, one by one, in a tidy and polite little line stretching on and on forever.
(When she slept was the only time the Governess used the SPDER’s functions, making it undo the damage and expand her milk ducts, watching as the little brass bulb attachment thrust in and out of her nipple from the inside over and over, to gently widen the passages, as she patiently dripped a solution that aided this into the openings…)
Rowena woke up to Governess rubbing something on her tiddies, and attaching the milking cylinders. Her tiddies had been feeling better lately, and now looked nice and big, the blue veins like lace over the pale surface. She felt full, but not stuffy, and gasped a little as Governess slid her finger inside one nipple gently, circling around. Rowena felt a shivery little orgasm wake her all the way up.
‘My… my tiddies…’ she said, and looked with wide eyes as Governess slid her finger inside the other nipple. ‘They’re all better!’
‘They are,’ Governess said, ‘but they can’t be milked while you are growing babies, that would take energy away from the babies, just now.’ She held up a long plug. ‘So, they must be plugged up, because they don’t know better.’ She started to slide the plug inside, and it stretched Rowena’s long nipple, aching awfully, and Governess pushed it in until it disappeared, all the way down Rowena’s nipple, until Rowena could only feel it. She just held still, and watched, and Governess smiled.
‘Gooood girl, holding so still for Governess.’ She pushed the other one in, and then pulled down the milking pump. ‘But we must remain in practise,’ she said, and attached the pump, turning it on. The plugs made it hurt terrifically, and Rowena’s breaths were shaky, but she tried not to squeak too much, and Governess knew it, patting one of her tiddies as it shuddered from the force of the suction.
‘Good girl, Rowena. Now, time for your bath.’
The brush felt so good, pushing inside her and spinning to scrub her out; it tickled so much that she couldn’t help coming, and coming, as it stopped spinning and started to scrub back and forth inside her, pushing her up and down a little with every thrust, until it was done and her anus was left dripping, but it was no longer able to twitch, simply gaping and slack, and—Rowena remembered her Governess’ praise—beautifully still, waiting patiently for the Machine to insert the rinsing nozzle, the warm jets of water filling her up, the nozzle retreating and the spreader hooks pulling her anus wide so the soapy water could drain, then the nozzle repeating the process nine more times, until she was all clean. Then, the bigger, softer, bulbous nozzle that pushed inside and started filling her with breakfast in warm, comforting gushes. It was cool and tingly today, which meant Governess had put lots of mint in, as a treat. Rowena felt the tingles go straight to her clitty, and it swelled and ached to be touched.
‘Such a good girl, Rowena, look how calm and beautiful your fundament is, submitting so meekly to being cleaned!’
‘I like baths, Governess,’ Rowena said, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle, and Governess’ hand stroking her clitoris.
‘Good girl, as you should.’ She said, and then took her hand away, leaving Rowena on the edge. ‘How does your bladder feel? Nice and relieved?’
‘It… I can hardly feel it is there at all.’
‘That’s because it has been given a little holiday, being drained all night. Don’t fret, dear, you can have it fill up again after you give birth.’ She began to stroke Rowena’s belly lovingly, ‘But while you’re pregnant, I need your body to focus on making room for all the babies. We’ll be giving you lots and lots of small meals. Just as much lade, my darling, don’t fret—we simply have to space it out. You’ll have that nozzle inside most of the time, just a slow quart at a time of nice, rich things, to make you fat and help the babies grow.’
Empty bladder and small belly? Rowena hadn’t known about that; but if her womb was filling up—and it was so full now, would it get big enough to touch the floor?—then she supposed she wouldn’t exactly feel empty. She felt the plug stretching her vaginal passage, and was comforted that at least she was still stretched tight around all her plugs, and her tiddies were all better, which meant everything was all better. She felt blissful as Governess stroked and rubbed her belly, hand sliding down to tease and pet her clitoris.
‘Won’t it be nice, full of babies? And they’re so much bigger than eggs, that’s why we have to stretch your cunny aaaaall out, so they can be comfortable… say Yes Mistress.’
‘Yes, Mistress!’ was a bit louder and more emphatic than Rowena intended, as she orgasmed in the middle of it.
‘Goooood girl, that’s a good girl, you should feel that excited about pregnancy, it’s what you’re made for….’
The Governess spliced the tubing going into Vartan, allowing a very slow drain to his bladder after seeing it had doubled in size, and making sure to stimulate his pomegranate-sized prostate until he orgasmed, while she filled his head with thoughts of how good it was for his bladder to be full, for him to be giving Rowena such relief, as was his purpose, rubbing the cherry-sized button she’d made his navel, before attaching the chain to it and setting the machine to clean him out. He whimpered and cried at the bath, so she set it to spin faster, to go longer, to train him to get used to it, and watched his swollen anus—knave-girls like Vartan were given very swollen anal rings, to makeup for how they had no cunny to swell—as the cleaning brush thrust and frothed away at it, heaving it in and out, the stretching prongs having to be broader than Rowena’s to make sure they didn’t cut into the pillowy anus. Baths were more intense for knave-girls, due to that sensitivity; but they still had to have them, it was good for them, and she felt a little cruel, so she decided to put a bit of lemon in his breakfast lade, and put a ball-plug, that kept him sealed by filling up his enlarged rectum, leaving his anal ring free; she made it swell by spanking it a little, being sure to explain he was not in trouble, that it was merely the best way to tenderise the flesh and make it pinken, ready to be enlarged.
She enjoyed his cries, and his orgasm, as she spanked his soft little fundament, admiring how she had destroyed it; after that, she decided it needed another infusion of Expansia serum, and carefully inserted the tiniest little needle, threading the butterfly-tongue into his reddened flesh as he whimpered in anticipation, knowing what came next was an hour of feeling a gradual warmth, as his anal ring tightened and swelled.
‘Gooood boy,’ Governess said, as she watched. ‘Goood boy, when I’m all done your ring shall have a proper single fold, and look just like a proper vulva. Remember what I told you, darling: we must focus on the swelling, and meditate on all the details of sensations.’
She left him to it, and Vartan felt when his gut began to twinge and spasm a little, the pain counterpoint to the slow, steady swelling of his ring, the stretch from his taut rectum, the heaviness of the plug inside, feeling like it was dragging him down. It felt like his fundament must be bulging out, behind his swollen anal ring. His anus felt heavy and tight, but weak; if it were not so swollen, it would be slack and open, the ball’s weight and its weakness pushing it further open.
She kept him focussed on his fundament all day, watching his belly absorb his breakfast, replacing the gravity-syringe’s solution and watching his anus swell with Expansia, a beautiful pink. She had to keep expanding it, or the ball-plug’s weight would force his anus open. That was the point of it, it was meant to be used this way, keeping the anal area nice and taut so the gravity-syringe could do its best work. She’d never fed more than an hour’s worth into anyone before, and she thrilled at the forbidden indulgence of making his anal ring bigger and bigger, tormenting him for four hours, until his anus was the size of a loaf of bread, though it looked more like a pastry of some kind.
She finally removed the butterfly-tongue, sealing the tiny wound with a little touch of healing salve before rubbing Stasia all over the soft and pillowy flesh, stroking and caressing it, hearing him moan and whimper through the throat-gag—for that’s what it was, really, designed to gag girls that talked too much; but it wasn’t to punish Vartan, only take away yet another thing that caused him fear.
‘Good boy,’ she said, ‘I’m going to leave you here while the plug teaches your little fundament it mustn’t tense anymore, and if you’re a good boy and let it come out, you can have luncheon; but if not, well, we shall see if you can let it come out in time for supper. And if your naughty fundament hasn’t let it out by supper, then you shall just have to go without any more meals until it does come out.’
He whimpered, but she knew his body would comply—he wasn’t a wilful boy, not in his heart; but his nerves, so long allowed reign, made his body wilful, so she had to use a firm hand. ‘I know you can do it, precious,’ she said, petting his red curls. ‘I know you want to be a good boy, deep down. But we must train your naughty little body, mustn’t we? And sometimes it hurts.’
Another whimper, this one more emphatic. She smiled, and kissed his temple.
‘Good boy, I know you sha’n’t disappoint me.’
The ball-plug was heavy, and she watched it force its way out, dragging his fundament to bulge helplessly under the slow, passive, inexorable weight, that his body couldn’t keep in, but which was quite a bit bigger than the swollen-shut opening it was trying to escape from. He fluttered a little, but over the next few hours, she watched him cry and whimper, watched the heavy ball force his anal ring to widen very slowly, the sheer weight and round shape the only thing making it come out—his gut could not push anything, anymore, those muscles had been permanently weakened quite nicely. By Tea, it was nearly halfway, the most beautiful sight, the swollen anal ring stretching wide around the plug; it was just about supper when the ball finally dropped out, and the Governess was quite proud of the sight of that exhausted anus, slack and stretched and fluffed out.
‘Goood boy,’ she said, as he panted, skin slick with the effort of not tensing. She rubbed his anus again with soothing Stasia-laced salve, heaping him with praise as she made sure nothing had everted. ‘Good boy, such a good boy, look how beautiful and helpless this lovely fundament is, I can push my hand inside so easily to squeeze your prostate…’
She wrapped her hand around the swollen gland and gently squeezed and massaged, until she heard muffled screaming and sobbing, forcing him to orgasm over and over, his coque plugged up and unable to ejaculate, the gland backing up and swelling up a little with every pulse, until it had doubled in size, then tripled, and she rubbed his anal ring with her other hand. ‘Good boy,’ she said, ‘goooood boy, this is the only way you should orgasm, we must practise the correct way for another hour…’
She pulled her hands away and had the Machine insert the special attachment that cupped his swollen prostate and emitted the enlargement current, also applying a gentle vibration, to keep him orgasming. With him insensate, she had the Machine pull out the tubing and drain his bladder with suction, then start on cleaning out all that complex internal maze with soft brushes, all the while enforcing that this was how he should derive orgasmic pleasure, from being penetrated, from being cleaned; and when his prostate got nice and big, the Machine was going to plug up the passage to his purse, and start fucking him, and only then he would be allowed to ejaculate, and drain his prostate all out.
The brushes spun and cleaned out his stretched passages with soap and water especially for the purpose, and left plugs in the entrance to his purse, which was already filling up again. Then, for the first time in a very long while, he was freed from the plugs, and he felt the humming thing pull out of his slack anal passage and then something bigger and softer pushed in, slick and immediately starting to push in and out of him, thrust against the swollen plug his prostate had become, big enough to stretch his anal ring, pleasure radiating from its thrusts, and he felt himself orgasming instantly, and was not allowed to stop, clear fluid milked from his coque for hours, the thrusting not letting up until, by morning, he never wanted to shudder in orgasm again, trembling all over and exhausted, feeling unsatisfied since his purse was blocked up, and now swelling taut from all the signals to make more sperm the orgasms had given it.
Wrung out, he swooned into a doze as soon as the Machine stopped, scrubbing and rinsing him clean before leaving him empty. He whimpered. He was so empty, except for his purse.
‘There, now, did you like your orgasm? Was it nice and long? Did you like ejaculating?’
Vartan made a noise that he hoped communicated he did not, and did not want to ejaculate again. She smiled.
‘Well, your fundament looks lovely and exhausted, and I’m going to just take your fat little prostate out, so it doesn’t bother you with these silly ideas any more, all right, darling?’
Vartan made a happier noise at this. Yes, he wanted that. His prostate was very naughty, giving him ideas about ejaculating, when all he wanted was to be full. He felt so empty, he wanted to be full again.
The Governess saw this flicker through his eyes, and knew she had succeeded. The combination of relentless fucking after making him narrowly focus on his anal ring and starving him had made him understand, had made him want what she was going to do. Carefully, she removed his prostate, and put it in the cylinders she usually used, and pet his anal ring after this, gently. ‘Knave-girls don’t want anything to come out of their lovely inner maze,’ she said softly, gently. ‘It’s not good for them. They would like to be full, isn’t that right?’
An affirming noise, however wobbly and tired. She kissed his temple, patting his empty belly, still soft and big from all the fat, but empty. ‘You’ll feel much better after some breakfast, and then you can help empty Rowena’s bladder again.’
A much more emphatic noise, and the Governess chuckled at how excited he sounded, even exhausted as he must be. ‘Such a dear creature, Vartan,’ she crooned, and went to put his prostate away in her lockbox. Unlike the clitoris of a gay-girl, a prostate wasn’t stimulated while it was locked away—rather, it was numbed.
Predictably, he dozed off while the Machine filled him with breakfast, and she let him sleep for a little while, though not too long. She woke him up so he could feel her thread a much wider pair of tubes—one wide, one very small—down his coque and into his bladder, and she threaded the one into an opening of the machine that drained away; and the thicker one began to pump the contents of Rowena’s bladder into him. He practically purred at the feeling of it gushing inside him, and as his belly swelled back up, the Governess stroked it, and praised him for being such a good boy.
Internally, she admired the ruin she’d made of his fundament; it was pillowy-soft and loose, and she looked forward to training him to orgasm from his anal ring being stroked, and spanked, and fucked only.
After he was full, she kept him awake by regular spankings of his anal-ring, watching it redden and swell. His purse was inflating nicely with more little fishes, and she finally attached his navel ring to the pulley above, setting the machine to bouncing him. He was delirious by the time supper was over and it was time for sleeping, and she finally let him sleep—one mustn’t ruin one’s sleep schedule for any reason.
Over the term of Rowena’s pregnancy, her belly swelled with babies, and after ten months, they were packed in quite tightly, her vaginal passage still plugged up and stretched to its maximum diameter, which was much bigger than any babies might be.
They moved, shifted around inside her belly, kicked and did all manner of things, and Rowena loved it. She couldn’t see anything but her belly now, it was wonderful.
Vartan, meanwhile, was similarly blissful. He was trained and conditioned, over those months, with regular fucking and spanking of his anal ring, and his purse was heavier than he was, tight and shiny and almost perfectly round, the surface a wriggling bumpy texture from all the angry little sperms trapped inside and trying to get out. It was awful, but he focussed on how full his bladder was, the way he was helping the growing belly before him.
The Governess was very pleased with Vartan’s progress, and kept Rowena pregnant the full year recommended, kept her stretched as wide as her body could go the whole time, watched her grow, watched her nipples get bigger and bigger, the plugs keeping her milk securely inside. Toward the end, they began to swell with milk again, inexorable, and the Governess finally decided, after a year, that it was time. She pulled the plugs out of Rowena’s nipples that morning, scrubbing her milk ducts out by hand.
‘You will have them today,’ she said, as she set Rowena’s nipples in the milking cylinders and turned it on.
‘Oh, goody…’ Rowena said sleepily, and the Governess smiled as she set the Machine to remove the plug, and the Governess stroked Rowena’s belly.
‘Push,’ she said, and Rowena flexed her womb, starting to push them out as her Governess stroked her clitoris and the Machine milked her tiddies, and all was right with the world. The newborn kits were put in the nursery.
‘Now, we must clean out your womb, as well as give you a regular bath.’ Rowena hadn’t had a bath since getting pregnant, as it wasn’t possible; she sighed in relief at the feeling of the scrubbing brushes pushing inside her anal ring—the brushes pushing inside her vaginal passage were a little more of a surprise, but they did the same thing to her womb, spinning and then scrubbing back and forth, and rinsing until she was nice and clean again.
‘Such a good girl, Rowena, you had so many babies inside you! We must make sure you can make milk for all of them.’ She turned up the milking pump, ‘so we’ll be keeping you milked all the time until they wean.’
Rowena was glad to be back to normal, she thought, as the Machine filled her up with her customary two gallon breakfast, delighted when the Machine pushed an extra amount into her. She looked over at her Governess, even as her gut was filled, and filled, and strained because it had been a whole year since it had been stretched properly. It felt good. ‘May I have a full bladder again, Mistress?’
‘You may, yes,’ Governess said, and removed the tubing, replacing it with the plug Rowena had sorely missed. ‘We’re going to be doubling your meals. I want you giving at least four gallons of milk every day by the end of the week.’
As time wore on, and Rowena hit her maximum milk output (six gallons), it became clear that she could not produce enough to feed all of her kits.
The Governess decided she must give Vartan teats, then, and began on rubbing his chest and nipples with the proper creams, putting the proper serums in his lades, until his nipples began to enlarge, and his teats began to swell from his flat chest. She was diligent, but she could not be patient, and while she made sure to prevent stretchmarks, she enclosed his teats in suction cylinders, and infused them with the gravity-syringe and concentrated Expansia. She had no edict as to their shape, but it seemed only right to make sure his were the right shape for his Suite, and that was a very different shape than Rowena’s—but the Governess easily forced them into the rounded, upturned shape of the Court, and made sure to keep the nipples nice and pointed and the areolae puffy, even as she enlarged the nipples and subjected them to relentless milking, until, finally, after nearly a month of work, they began to give milk.
‘Oh, good boy,’ she said, turning the pump higher, and setting the Machine to start fucking his coque as well as his fundament. ‘Gooooood boy, we’ll make a pretty cream-boy out of you yet.’
Vartan’s body proved very enthusiastic once properly trained, and soon he was giving a gallon, then two, then four, until he was surpassing Rowena, his teats heavy and needing constant milking, gushing so much milk the kits were sleepy and overfed (as was ideal). Vartan was fully conditioned to orgasm when milked, to the point where the Governess didn’t even need to have the machine fuck him anymore.
She still did, of course, but it was important not to abuse his body too much, and she let him rest, at least, making sure his pretty holes were well and soothed before plugging him up at night. He was proving to be as good and eager to please as Rowena, and the Governess had no doubt it would lend the same personality to the kits, particularly since the pregnancy had gone so well, and Rowena had been kept away from anything at all upsetting, overfed and given constant praise and pleasure.
The pawns minded the kits, giving them regular enemas and making sure their milk-bulged bellies were massaged. There were eight in all, fat and round and helpless little things, and the Governess looked forward to watching them grow—and shaping them all the while, not merely waiting until they were the usual age. She wanted to see what she could do if she had a charge their whole life.
Rowena thought about it for some months, and decided she did not want to have any more babies. She much preferred the comfort of being full in the usual way; but she was nervous of telling this to Governess, even though she knew she should. She went along with being filled up with babies again once more, but she secretly hoped none of them would take, and burst into tears unexpectedly as Governess was praising her one morning, only a month into her pregnancy.
‘I don’t want it!’ fell out of her mouth, between bitter sobs. ‘I don’t—I don’t like it, Mistress! I’m a bad Lady, I don’t—I don’t want—’ she couldn’t bring herself to say it all the way, but Governess suddenly understood, with a horrible cold feeling, and said, in a very calm voice,
‘Rowena, you must say these things.’
‘I thought—you would be—I’m bad—’
‘Not at all, darling; you’ve had some babies that you wanted. It’s only Bad to have them if you don’t want them. Come now, dry your tears, it’s all right.’ She patted Rowena’s belly. ‘We’ll just end this here and clean you out, and you can just lay your nice eggs from now on. But I shall have to punish you a little, for not telling me the truth sooner.’
Rowena sniffled, drying her tears, lip trembling; she’d never been punished before. ‘I’m afraid,’ she said, trying to tell more truth to compensate. ‘I didn’t know I was Lying. I didn’t mean to.’
‘I know, precious; you’re such a good girl, I know you don’t mean it. We shall have a very small punishment. How about I plug up your womb and let the eggs stretch you out for a month. You shall have to take all your normal meals, and your bladder will be kept full—I sha’n’t be lenient with that,’ she said, feigning sternness, though she watched the growing delight and relief on Rowena’s face. But she, too, struggled to arrange her face into something more serious and downcast.
‘Oh, Mistress, that will be so very much,’ she said, her lips trembling too much with holding in the effort it took not to smile to even pretend to pout. ‘I shall burst.’
‘If you are so sure you will burst, then we must fill your womb with something to prevent it.’
The Governess went about aborting the pregnancy as gently as she could, and gently rinsed Rowena out with only filling her with soapy water and having the Machine plug her up and put vibration pads on her belly for a few minutes, then rinsing her out. She pet Rowena’s clitoris while she did this, until Rowena came, and then rinsed her with plain water until it ran clear again. ‘Now,’ she said, feigning a frown, and pushed a very soft, but large, plug securely into Rowena’s vaginal passage. ‘This shall remain right where it is for the next month, and you shall think on keeping things from Governess.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘And we shall fill your bladder up quite full,’ she continued.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Rowena said, softly. ‘…Mistress?’ she said, meekly.
‘Yes, girl?’
‘Perhaps I ought to have my belly filled up with a punishment dose, as well?’ she asked.
‘Why do you think that?’
‘I—I feel I shall not adequately think on what I’ve done, in the beginning, because there are no eggs filling me up yet,’ Rowena said, haltingly, but what she wanted to say was that she would not feel punished, and she wanted to feel punished. ‘I think it ought to be enough that it makes me have a bad sleep,’ she added, suddenly, having to say it all at once before she lost her courage.
‘Go on…’
‘I—I want to make sure I am spasming and—and in a little pain. Until my womb starts to feel properly… incommodious,’ she said. Vartan had taught her that word.
‘How very conscientious. Very well, a punishment dose, to make you properly sorry.’
‘A big one. Don’t—don’t spoil me, Mistress. I know you’re very fond of me, but I was very Naughty, after all,’ Rowena said shyly.
‘A regular punishment dose,’ Governess said, with a gentle smile. ‘You are a little hard on yourself, Rowena. I am only soft with you because you are so hard on yourself. Now,’ she moved the lever, and Rowena felt the cold gush of it being put into her. ‘A punishment dose, and then bed without supper.’
Rowena felt the cold fill her up where supper should be, felt her belly begin to tense up, quivered with anticipation as she waited. Governess was draining her bladder before bed when the cramps started, sharp and wonderfully awful, and Rowena knew she had to stay stoic, as Governess held her labia wide and made sure she was voiding her bladder properly, and not pushing. Her breaths hitched, but she completed her bedtime routine, and stayed on her back as Governess rubbed her teats, putting soothing salve on her nipples, which were very sore from being milked every day, but always felt good as new by morning. It was very hard to stay on her back, her teats were so heavy now, and her belly was twitching and heaving. Governess lingered, Rowena knew, because she didn’t normally make sure to get the salve down inside Rowena’s nipples; but, finally, she left Rowena to fall asleep, and Rowena could finally roll onto her side and curl around her pained belly.
All through the night, the sharp cramps came and went, making her have dreams—oh, such dreams. She dreamed her belly was full of fishes that were biting her, and more and more kept pushing into her ovaries, and into her teats too….
(The Governess watched the SPDER’s brass attachments thrust from the inside, this time not only in her nipples, but also forcing her ovaries to swell with more eggs, as Rowena’s brow furrowed and she whimpered in her dreams.)
Rowena woke to her ovaries feeling sore, and the Governess sliding a clyster nozzle into one of her nipples, depressing the plunger and pushing something cool and tingling into her teat.
‘Good morning,’ she said.
‘Good morning, Mistress. What are you doing?’
‘This will make it so we don’t have to milk you for the milk to come out,’ she said. ‘We can just put tubing inside your nipples, and that way they won’t get so sore.’ She moved on to the other teat, and Rowena felt tingly, but nothing more. ‘Are you feeling sufficiently remorseful, or do you need another dose?’ Governess asked.
‘I… I think I am properly remorseful,’ Rowena said. She’d never been allowed to have a say, before. Perhaps Ladies got to. ‘My ovaries feel very swollen, Mistress. Will you check them, please?’
‘Of course, darling,’ Governess said, hearing the worry in Rowena’s voice, seeing it on her sweet, pretty face. She finished injecting the serum and rolled Rowena onto her back, tits falling to either side of the girl, as they should, and the Governess hummed. ‘Well,’ she said, softly, ‘your ovaries seem to have decided now is the time to get busy…’
They were beautifully visible, twice their usual size and easily visible, pressing through the fat of her apron and exaggerating the double-mounded curve of it. Governess pressed, and Rowena whimpered, starting to moan as Governess continued, feeling many eggs developing in those ovaries. The SPDER was really very powerful, she thought; she had been cautious, only using a little of its programming at a time, not wanting to harm Rowena.
As the week went on, she enjoyed watching it fuck Rowena’s nipples, enjoyed how much control it gave her over those ovaries. She made them quite big, indeed, and it was soon they were contantly pushing a stream of eggs down the fallopian tubes, packing Rowena’s poor womb full. Yet Rowena seemed to delight in her punishment.
Governess slid tubes into her nipples, feeling the SPDER latch onto them, and signal the Machine to begin suctioning, as it stimulated the milk glands with undetectable currents. The Governess was satisfied as the tubes began to fill with milk, but looked at Rowena, who was watching with an expression on her face.
‘How does it feel, Rowena?’
‘Good,’ Rowena said, and then, ‘Oh—oh it—it feels so good, Mistress. I like being—being drained like this.’ Her nipples were stretched, now, ‘I feel so full, properly. I—I like my nipples being plugged up like this, but also draining my tiddies.’ She giggled. ‘That sounds silly.’
‘I understand,’ the Governess said gently, and reached to pet her clitoris, ‘What a good girl you are, so repentant. Your body is punishing you so well, I think that shows a great deal of character.’
‘Oh—you—you think so, Mistress?’ Rowena said, having trouble speaking between the feeling in her teats and the way Mistress was petting her clitoris. Her womb was very full, but Governess had said everything was fine with her ovaries, nothing was the matter.
‘I do. The punishment dose made it understand you were trying to do the right thing, and it is trying to obey and please me, just like the rest of you.’
‘Yes, Mistress!’ Rowena said, with enthusiasm.
‘You shall be so full by the end of a week, at this rate,’ the Governess went on, with well-hidden delight.
‘Yes,’ Rowena said, hiding her delighted anticipation much less well. ‘I think I shall be quite sorry, then. I think I shall cry, and beg pardon.’
‘It shall still be the full month, regardless of how big your tummy gets,’ the Governess said, with a wicked smile hidden in her eyes.
‘Oh yes, of course! I should not want to become Spoiled,’ Rowena said, with true horror. ‘I should rather die than become Spoiled.’
‘Don’t fret, my dear,’ the Governess said, wrapping her hand around the girl’s clitoris and giving a hard stroke in reward, ‘I will never allow that.’
Rowena could hardly breathe, now, her womb was so full, so tight; she cried during meals now, as her belly flushed and strained painfully at the additional volume—the Machine had to use quite high pressure to force all of it inside her, now, there was so little room.
She was in agony, and it was bliss. She was free to walk about now, as she was all better, and delighted in going out to the shore and feel the sun on her belly, on her tiddies and clitoris (she tried to use the grown-up word for it now). She felt like a Lady again, and yet she was happy to stay with her Governess, do all she ordered. She lay in the sun so much that even with the linen covering her teats, she began to tan, and she fell asleep in the sun once, waking up to her clitoris being in considerable burning pain.
When she showed Governess, she was met with a sigh—a terrible blow. But Governess only undressed her and examined every inch of her skin.
‘You have been taking the sun quite a lot,’ she said, but didn’t let herself sound too disappointed; while a Lady wasn’t normally to emerge from the shadow of a parasol, a Ladywife was allowed to do anything her Keeper wanted—and the Governess was Rowena’s Keeper, now. She rather liked how tan Rowena was getting on her teats, how much it was going to contrast with her rosy, slightly lilac-tinted nipples. But they had to be careful not to burn—the sun would burn, particularly the delicate clitoris.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Rowena said, immediately downcast to the point of tears wetting her pretty blue eyes. ‘It hurts.’
‘I know, dear, I know.’ The Governess was quite cross, really. ‘We must be careful of the sun, darling. I am going to put a healing salve on your clitty, but then you shall have to be punished.’
Rowena hung her head. ‘Yes, Mistress,’ she said, tears staining her cheeks. She cried silently all through Governess gently smoothing something that cooled the burn on her clitoris, and then smoothing it all over her, until her skin was tingly and cool and shiny with it.
And then Governess led her to her bed, and made her stand facing it.
‘Lay down, on your belly.’
Rowena gulped. On her belly? But she, slowly, obeyed, whimpering at the pressure as her eggful belly was pressed down by her bodyweight. Her belly was so big that she was on her toes, trying to stay balanced, her teats so heavy she felt she was tipping forward.
The Governess let Rowena lay there a while, contemplating the view of her lovely bottom, her hairless, swollen, stretched vulva, the clarity of the plugs showing off the gape of her holes quite nicely. One could even see a hint of the eggs, beyond the gape of the cervical ring. She reached in her pocket, pulling out the remote to the SPDER. She wished she could tell Rowena, taunt and tease her; but she couldn’t. She set the SPDER to swell Rowena’s vulva, watching it flush and redden prettily as Rowena moaned at the added pain, her clitoris bright red and burning.
And still the Governess contemplated what punishment she could inflict. She did not approve of spanking as a punishment, only as a beautification technique. She could not stuff Rowena any fuller, and a punishment dose seemed to fall short of what was needed—and what she wanted. She couldn’t lock Rowena’s clitty away, that would be too cruel after what she had suffered at The Woman’s hands—but that was the usual punishment for something mild like this.
Perhaps it was time to introduce the SPDER, but gently. ‘Rowena,’ she said, softly, ‘Do you remember why Vartan came here?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ came the confused answer. ‘To make something that would make the… the awful spiders go to sleep, and never wake up.’
‘He came here to make a way for Governess to control the spiders, so they would only do what I wanted them to do to my Rowena. They are my machines, now, an extension of my will. Do you understand?’
‘I… I am frightened of them, Mistress.’
‘I know, my beloved one, I know; but Mistress has them in hand. They only do what she says. Do you trust Mistress?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very well. I must tell them what to do, so you will know what it is,’ the Governess lied gently, her fingers on the buttons of the remote in her pocket. ‘Now, spiders, you must begin stretching Rowena’s nipples.’ She pressed the button on the remote, and Rowena gasped, then moaned, as she felt the guttiform bulbs begin to push along the inside of her, emerging from her nipples nd then pulling back down their path, over and over. It was invasive, it was aching.
‘Gooood boys, that’s it, my little spiders, stretch her all out for Mistress…’ the Governess purred, circling the bed to watch the subtle ripples visible at the surface. She met Rowena’s tearful eyes, saw the trust there, with the fear. ‘You’re being so good, Rowena, I know it’s hard to trust them. They’re just stupid little creatures, they have no malice, only obedience. Like you,’ she said, smiling. ‘They want to please their Mistress so badly—you know how that feels, don’t you?’
Rowena nodded, trembling.
‘They’re meant to help a Governess, to sit inside you and make sure Governess is always there.’ She cupped Rowena’s face gently. ‘Always,’ she said. ‘No matter where you are, even in your dreams.’
She saw Rowena’s fear turn to wobbly acceptance, and pressed the button to slowly stimulate her lower spider, to arouse her and begin a very subtle current that would tingle as though she were being stroked all over, even on the inside. It made Rowena relax, and bite her pink lip.
‘Good girl, do you forgive them? They so want to make it up to you, to be good boys for Mistress, and help.’
‘They… they are being very obedient,’ Rowena said, encouraged by Governess’ smile, her hand on Rowena’s cheek. ‘I… I suppose machines cannot have any sort of malice, only obedience. That… that is how they are made.’
‘That’s right, precious one; they’re just mindless little creatures. And you’re safe now, all the machines obey me. You trust the Machine, don’t you? You trust him when he gives you baths, and meals? You’re not afraid of him.’
‘No,’ Rowena said, relaxing further, unknowing of the machinations the Governess was using to make that happen. ‘No, I like him.’
‘Well, the Spiders are his underlings, shall we say, and he is the butler, to order about his footmen.’
Rowena giggled, even though the tightening of her belly interrupted it with a little muffled moan. ‘Ooh, I am so full, Mistress…’
‘It is still two more weeks until your punishment is over, girl.’
‘Y-yes, I was not asking for less, only saying…’
‘Mmm, well, then go on. Tell me how full you are. Tell me all you feel.’
‘S-so full, my tummy feels so tight and aching and hot….’
‘And your tiddies?’
Rowena closed her eyes, concentrating on the alien feeling of her tiddies being rubbed from the inside, the warm metal sliding easily along the passage, pushing it wider, and wider, softening the flesh with massage. It was almost painful, almost… ‘It’s… it’s so much… it…’
‘Faster,’ said the Governess, and Rowena almost didn’t understand, until the spiders started going faster inside of her, and she started to squeak, and then they were faster still, and she started to wail.
‘Good girl, goooood girl…’ the Governess watched her face, stroking her cheek as she cried, overwhelmed by the sensations that her body could not understand. The brass bulbs emerging and disappearing from her nipple openings were a delight to watch. ‘This is your punishment for sleeping in the sun without protection,’ she reminded Rowena, between the girl’s wails of distress, and pressed another button on the remote. The Spider forced a hard orgasm from the girl, making her weakened pelvic floor tense so hard it shook. Rowena screamed, and screamed, and the Governess forced it to go on for ten minutes, before giving her relief for ten more, and then forcing another orgasm, and so on, alternating, for an hour, until Rowena’s voice had given out, and her skin was slick from sweat rather than salve. When the clock struck the hour, the Governess stopped.
‘There we are,’ she said, as she turned off the machinations inside Rowena. ‘Such a good girl, taking your punishment so well, not even struggling one bit.’ She kissed Rowena’s forehead. ‘I’ll let you rest before luncheon.’
As she left Rowena on the bed, the Governess turned the remote, making the Spider swell Rowena’s ovaries even more; she heard Rowena’s distressed, scratchy cry as she felt them grow larger, warm and thrumming, heaving eggs into her womb even faster.
Perhaps she would make Rowena sleep on her belly, for the next fortnight. And there was also the laying of the eggs… should she force Rowena on her back, or perhaps suspend her, so she had no leverage… Rowena laid very large eggs, they were always a delightful struggle to get out, taking much longer than other Ladies… but the Governess liked watching her struggle, and Rowena did say she wanted to feel punished….
She thought on this as she went to check on Vartan.
Vartan’s teats were enormous now, giving plenty of milk for the kits on his own, the pale skin spidered with blue veins, his gut pumped constantly full of heavy, nutritious lade, to make sure he could keep giving milk.
But Rowena didn’t want babies anymore, and that meant there was no need for Vartan’s body to have an organ devoted to making seed.
His purse was so full the little fishes couldn’t move anymore, but still wriggled strongly. She watched the Machine work on him a while—his coque was stuffed full with a plug that had two tubes running down the centre—one large, and one very small. The large one was constantly pumping his bladder full, the small one allowing just the tiniest trickle to drain. Inside, she knew his seminal passage was plugged up, stretched tight around the plug to keep him dilated. His soft and pillowy anal ring had an ideal single fold down the centre, looking almost perfectly like a vulva, stretched tight around a plug that filled his rectum to its limit. And the pumps on his upturned nipples were sucking away, his teats so productive they were always firm, as though they hadn’t been milked long at all.
‘How are we today, my little cow?’
Vartan made a noise very like a lowing, and the Governess chuckled at his playfulness. ‘Silly boy,’ she said fondly. ‘Well, Rowena has said she wants no more babies, which means you do not need your little purse any longer.’
A noise of relief.
‘Yes, I know, doesn’t that sound nice, not having that awful purse anymore?’ she said, with sympathy, ‘but first we have to drain it aaall out, every last little fish.’
She clicked the milk pump one notch higher, as she cooed to him, and saw the relief as his teats started to finally soften and feel relief, as the pump tugged them faster. Perhaps she should install a pair of SPDERs in him, the milk pump couldn’t go much higher without hurting him… but that was for later, for now, she pulled the plugs in his passages out, slowly, making him feel every last little inch. He was trembling by the time she let his bladder free, emptying in a helpless gush as he cried.
And then his little fishes found the opening, and started to force their way out. He was not orgasming, so there was no pleasure, only the alien feeling of things wriggling deep inside him, moving along his widened passages.
‘Gooood boy, that’s it…’ she purred, watching. They dropped out one by one at first, straight into a chamber of fluid that would keep them alive, would change them into something the Governess could use to torment her charges forevermore. After a while, they forced the passages wide enough to begin trickling, then gushing out, as Vartan gave muffled screams.
The glans of a knave-girl was quite hard to stretch, and even the Governess couldn’t dilate it more than an inch—and the bulbous heads of the sperm were much bigger than that. They stretched him over and over, and the Governess was pleased to see that it seemed to be they’d found something that would stretch his glans wider. After ten minutes, his helpless coque was merely a spigot from which they flowed, eager to escape, little minding the agonising pleasure they caused on their way out.
It took an hour, and Vartan’s passages were quite ruined by the time the very last one slid out, Vartan panting and shaking, his purse finally deflated and soft.
But it would keep making more. The Governess had to pull it out, but only wanted to gut the purse, not cut it off. She reached inside with a hand gloved to the shoulder, finding the opening of the generative part and sliding a ring that would hold it open, for it would contract to protect itself from what she was about to pump into it. Into the ring she threaded a small tube, locking it in place, and withdrawing her arm.
‘Good boy,’ she said to the trembling creature, petting his shivery thigh. ‘Don’t worry, Mistress is going to make sure you never make another little fish.’ She flipped the switch. ‘This will sting a little,’ she said as the fluid began flowing inside. Vartan screamed. ‘I know, darling, I know.’
The fluid stung, and itched, full of various salts that would shrivel the generative organ of the testis, and eventually cause the body to detach it, leaving the purse empty, ready to have the prostate slid into place. The dose was a steady drip, and the tube would help her pull it out. After half an hour, she tugged gently on the tube, and felt something dislodge. Vartan whimpered, and she soothed him.
‘You’re doing so well darling, you really are, just think, no more little fish to discomfort you…’
She gave a slow, hard pull and started dragging it out, shriven as a raisin, squeezing through his passages, compressed by them, as he cried and screamed through his gag. It took only a few minutes, and when she had disposed of it, she had the machine fill his passages up with soothing fluid, cooling and healing the abused passages, as he gradually relearned how to breathe, and she dried his tears.
‘Good boy, good boy, such a good boy, thaaat’s better… such a brave, good boy you were, my dear one! Now,’ she said, as the Machine gave a familiar clang, ‘the Machine is going to fill up your empty purse, and you’re going to get used to it being full in the proper way. And we’ll put a fresh new gallon into your bladder after all the healing salve is done doing its work. It will be supper then, so you’ll be nice and filled up by bedtime.’
She stayed with him, watching the swelling of his coque go down, but admiring the new gape of his coque’s opening—it was no more bulged in the middle, but all the same dilation, three lovely inches—and rubbing Stasia on it to make sure it stayed that way, plugging it up to its new diameter, and stroking the soft foreskin. When the machine started filling him with supper, and filling his bladder and purse, she slid a gravity-syringe’s needle and butterfly-tongue into his foreskin, and another into his coque, to inflate them further. By bed, he was all swollen curves, and she had the Machine slide milk-retention plugs into his milk-ducts, well past his nipples, and then pulled him by the nipples to bed for the first time in months, having him lay down while she massaged his serried belly and purse.
‘There, such a nice smooth, creamy purse you have now, it will weigh you down quite nicely, I think. We will relearn how to walk like a proper Lady, in the morning.’
She kissed him good-night, and left him there to suffer, and went to her study to find the brochure on SPDERs, looking over all the models made for teats. There was one particularly perfect for milk production, and she filled out the order form, almost sealing it up to be posted when she paused, and started looking through the catalogue again. She liked the control the SPDER gave her over Rowena’s lower body, and it would be quite good to install one in Vartan….
The SPDERs for knave-girls were mostly focussed on production of sperm, but she found one, labelled as being ‘for Those Discerning Keepers that wish to Transform a Knave-Girl from Insertive to Receptive’.
Perfect.