You all know how this kind of story begins.
Sally is a divorcee, late 30s. Tall, blonde, elegant in her way. Shares custody
of the children with her husband: she has them during the week. She met a man at
a party a few months ago, and she is beginning to re-discover the old steps of
the courtship dance with him, mysteriously transmuted by their ages and
experience.
And then she does something dumb; or maybe there is a threat to her eldest
daughter who is now 12. Whatever you like, it makes no difference. Sally is now
firmly in the clutches of Madame, who loans her out to men for extreme sadistic
use when Sally is not serving Madame herself. Her relationship with her
children, with Michael (who had considered himself to be blessed beyond measure
when she slid smilingly into his bed one night), even with her boss at work
begins to deteriorate under the relentless usage Madame puts her to.
Here is friday morning 7:30 am in her apartment. Her daughter is trying to
negotiate to stay until saturday; her son has suddenly realised it's football
day today and can't find his gear; weekend bags have to be packed; lunches have
to be made; someone has to go to the corner shop to get milk. Sally is trying to
get to work a little early so she can take longer at lunchtime to do the
shopping. The phone rings, Sally takes it. Here is where we really start.
"Sally? Be ready to go at six pm today and cancel anything you wanted to do till
sunday evening."
"I..."
"Oh, and Sally? Do you have a nice dress from the time you were pregnant?"
"Pregnant?"
"Yes, do bring that in a bag with you, and a nursing bra if you still have one.
No need to prepare yourself but you know the dress code."
"Madame..."
"...See you later darling Sally."
Sally replaced the receiver, heart in a tumult. Somehow, despite her,
everything did get sorted out, bags and lunches did get packed, and the three of
them headed off to their friday, their saturday, their weekend. For Sally, the
morning passed in a daze, and at lunchtime, instead of going shopping, she went
to a maternity wear shop and tried to purchase a nursing bra. The lady looked at
her kindly and suggested she buy one several sizes too large because you know
how you swell up dear... always best to be comfortable, you need every little
shred of comfort you can get. Is it going to be for you dear? Congratulations.
A conversation with Michael in the afternoon: what could she promise him? The
next weekend? He sounded a little disappointed. This has happened too often, in
the week there are children to mind and homework to do, apart from nursing
whatever injuries she may have received. Can't she spare even a few hours on
saturday night? And then suddenly it was six pm: reality stopped dead in its
tracks. She found herself waiting on the street outside her house, plastic
shopping bag in one hand, wearing a coat and a pair of high heeled shoes, coat
buttoned up to the neck because she was naked beneath. The car slowed and barely
even stopped for her as she wrenched the door open and scrambled into the back.
Same driver who never says anything to her. She sat on the broad leather seat,
bag clutched to her as the car made its way to Madame's house. Her mouth was dry
with fear and she caught sight of herself in the driver's mirror. Blonde: pale:
slightly faded.
She entered the house, sliped her coat off quickly, helped by the maid in her
black uniform, and walked naked to the drawing room, bag still in hand. Madame
watched her cross the room: tall, still quite a pleasant figure, nice breasts
despite what usage they had been put to. Clean shaved pussy, very nice legs, yes
legs are her best feature. Blonde touched-up hair, falling to shoulders. Most
probably, at present, the best of her stable. Old enough to have the stamina,
still looking fresh. No makeup or scent: this is added here to go with whatever
is required of Sally for the night. Sally fell kneeling at Madame's feet and
looked up at her, the expression of a frightened animal in her eyes. Madame put
a hand out and stroked her shoulder, down her breast. Skin still largely
undamaged. The nipple (she inspects it) still servicable. Dieting has improved
her figure, her waist is nicely slender and her hips open out pleasantly,
supporting her only slightly saggy ass behind her, which despite truly savage
amounts of abuse still looks fairly smooth and peach-like with a slight down of
hair just up her tailbone.
"Sally?" A cruel quirk of her mouth brought the kneeling woman to attention.
"Yes, Madame?"
"You know I like to tell you in detail beforehand what will happen, don't you?
It makes you so much more pliable."
"Yes, Madame."
"Tonight I am going to make you pregnant."
"But... it takes...."
Madame laughed at the woman's confusion. "Not really pregnant, silly. Dr Ivana
will make you look pregnant."
At the mention of Dr Ivana, Sally shuddered. Once upon a time she considered the
woman was certifiably insane; now she could no longer tell the difference. Ivana
had in some dark part of her life been tortured in a prison camp run by women,
eventually becoming one of the torturers herself. She patched Sally's wounds
efficiently and healed her whenever Sally returned bloody and battered; but she
also tortured Sally for the amusement of Madame or anyone else Madame chose to
invite for the fun of it. A big woman, older than both Madame or Sally; her face
was blotchy and she had strong arms and muscular legs.
Ivana walked quietly into the room. "Yes, Sally... I can make you very pregant
looking. I call it the 'ten-month pregnant' look because no woman really looks
that bad when carrying, even twins..."
Madame's eyes glinted "Be sure to show her to me before you dress her. Oh, the
client is a man. Rather a pleasant romantic kind of person. His equiment however
is massive. Go on, Ivana... he'll be expecting his pregnant wife in less than
three hours. You brought your dress? Show me."
Sally pulled her nice courderoy dress from the bag with shaking hands. She
remembered with a pang those golden years when she used to wear it. It comes
down around her knees and the top unbuttons for breast feeding.
"I bought a nursing bra as well, as you said, Madame..."
"Shame you have no old ones left."
"Yes Madame...." head down, Sally tensed for the punishment, seeing her own
breasts quivering, arms tucked hard against her sides. It never came.... she
raised her head timidly.
"Silly goose. Go with Ivana to the basement. We'll dress you up here."
Sally rose, heart beating, and Ivana offered her a hand. "Come on, pretty
Sally.... we shall make a mummy of you!"
A nice bottom, none the same, Madame reflected as she watched Sally being led
away.
Sally was fixed on the operating table, cold hard steel. She knew better than to
protest. Her arms were strapped at her sides, there was a belt over her
forehead, one just below her breasts, over her ribs, and her legs were raised
bent above her in the classic obstetric position, only tightly strapped at knees
and ankles. Her pussy of course was wide open. She shivered, as much as from
fear as from the cold and felt the draught blow over her open pussy..
"You can scream and plead, Sally, dear. I like the way you plead."
Sally tried to follow her with her eyes as Ivana donned a white coat, moving
around the operating room. Bright lights flashed down on her. There was the
sound of metal on metal, a hissing of a bunsen flame, sharp clinical smells.
Ivana peered down at Sally, smiling. "First of all, I shall increase the size of
your breasts by injecting them with a mixture of saline and glycerine. You have
had this before, I think. Your body will absorb it in a week or so, although
this time I am going to give you a lot so it will take longer. You will be
extremely booby..."
Sally tried hard not to scream at the thought of the disfigurement her body was
going to undergo. She gasped at the sight of the large hypodermic Ivana waved
over her face.
"Ivana.... that's..."
"Only one of them Sally dear. Each breast will receive five, twice over. One
on top...." Sally groaned as she felt the needle slide into the top of her
breast and the coldness of the needle... then the coldness in her breast as the
liquid was injected. "One below..." Aaaagh..... the needle poked into her breast
on the under curve... so far inside? If not for the reality of what was
happening, Sally thought the injection was almost pleasant... a tingling
sensation in her breast. It doesn't last, she knew. By the time Ivana injected
the fifth dose inside her nipple, Sally felt her right breast was already near
to bursting.
"Ivana..." she gasped "it's...."
"Half way there dear... I'll give that breast time to settle down and tackle
your other side."
"Half way there?"
The process repeated itself on her left breast.
"They look a little red and strained already, Sally. DO you want to see?"
Sally tried to shake her head. "Nnn.... noo, please no thankyou Ivana!"
"I think you do." A flat mirror with a light. Sally gasped as she saw the two
large red mounds her breasts had become, her nipples standing out from the
pressure beneath.
"Let me see about giving you a baby in the meantime... we'll let your breasts
adjust a little to their new size."
"What.... are you going to do?" asked Sally, faintly, suddenly conscious of her
legs wide open, mirror still above her.
For answer Ivana waved a large red bladder-like thing in front of her face. "I
shall insert this into your womb, dear Sally, and fill it full of glycerine. Not
as heavy as a baby, but it'll be considerably larger. First of all, we need to
open out your vagina though..."
Sally was used to the calipers that spread her vagina lips open. Ivana was
always patient, increasing the pressure inexorably until she felt she was being
torn wide open. "Good job the client is built like a horse, from what Madame
said" she murmured as she opened Sally up wider and wider. "Tell me if it begins
to feel as if it's tearing."
"It's tearing right now!" Sally shrieked.
"Nonsense, I can hardly get one hand in, let alone two. You can do better than
that Sally, although maybe not your daughter."
Sally suddenly felt a stab of fear pierce her heart "Mmm... mmy daughter?"
"Oh don't worry Sally dear... my business is with you, although from what Madame
said..."
Sally prayed this was more teasing from Ivana. She felt Ivana's hand enter her
vagina.
"Nicely open, and see? You didn't feel a thing. Now... we have to stuff this
down your cervix... always a little painful."
Sally's mouth opened in a soundless scream as she felt Ivana begin to press into
her cervix. Every movement was a shocking agony... she braced herself against
her straps, her muscles spasmed and clenched, she felt something being forced
deep inside her and her body did not want to accept it.
"Well now." There was a large inert lump inside her, Sally felt... and she could
feel the end of it dangling from her vagina. "We connect up. You feel the
bladder inside you, yes? A little strange, I know. In a minute, it will be very
agonising for you. Please feel free to scream."
"I... I can't..." Sally sobbed. "Please, Doctor Ivana... good doctor Ivana....
please don't make me hurt more..."
"Oh you will... loud and lustily as ever... you have a pretty scream especially
when you're about to loose consciousness with the pain... so primaeval...."
There was something connected to the bladder, Sally could feel the throb of a
pump and the tube in her cervix thickened, pushing her passage out painfully.
Then she felt the monster in her womb begin to grow. Her belly distended and she
felt her hips creak. Ivana was right, she could sream, and she did, trying to
convey something to Ivana... then loosing all sense, her head felt red her eyes
were full of tears, she was bathed in sweat...
Several times she fainted during the operation, and Ivana carefully and
methodically brought her round again.
"Why?" murmured Sally, weakly, as her eyes fluttered open to the terrible pain
inside her tummy and her breasts.
"Suffering is good for you, Sally. You take it so well."
"Oh!"
At one stage, Ivana stopped inflating her womb, and resumed work on Sally's
tortured breasts. Sally felt the needles push deep inside her and then her
breasts really ached... against her rib-cage, against her sides... "I've never
done a woman so big before, my dear" Ivana whispered. "You look absolutely
enormous! Any more and your breasts will split apart like melons!"
Sally groaned. Finally, her womb had been inflated even to Ivana's satisfaction
and she felt her fiddling inside her vagina.
"Just tying the end up dear, to stop the liquid gushing out. I hope his enormous
cock does not push this up your cervix.... then I'll have to dilate you in order
to retrieve the end. Oh my.... easily ten months.... let's see how you stand."
"Stand?" cried Sally.
The sight she saw when she eventually stuggled to her feet, with Ivana's help,
made her scream with her hands to her face. Her breasts were grossly swollen,
mis-shapen red and purple balls falling over her distended stomach... she could
not believe how large her stomach had become, pushing out not only in front but
from side to side as well. Every time she moved her hips and spine made ominous
creaks.
Ivana helped her waddle barefoot upstairs, where Madame applauded her and made
her waddle more to show off her disfigurement. She stood beside Sally in the
full length mirror and caught her eyes. "We're nearly the same age, you and I"
said Madame. "And yet I've never looked so gross!" The nursing bra was far too
small, but Madame and Ivana managed to get it round her swollen breasts none the
less as Sally groaned. Her lovely courderoy dress had lots of room in it, but
Ivana had to put stay-up stockings on her as Sally could hardly sit, let alone
touch her feet.
"Nicely distended cunt" murmured Ivana, as she put a pair of panties on Sally.
"Should help matters" observed Madame. "Now, Sally, you are extremely pregnant,
you shoud work hard to make your face beautiful for your husband, who is waiting
for you... He will, I understand, take you out to dinner. Afterwards, to his
hotel, where he will of course, make love to you. There is no hurry. When he
finishes on saturday, the driver will meet you and bring you back here."
Things happened largely as Madame had outlined. The client was a man who in
other circumstances might have been quite pleasant, Sally thought. The evening
passed in an agony for her: she felt like a distended whale: every movement,
even sitting still and breathing, was an agony. The staff at the restaurant
were solicitous; her client was so kind in public, feeding her and attending her
and quietly when nobody else could hear insisting that if she didn't, he'd take
his revenge later on her breasts. Sally choked, ate, and tried to smile.
Sex was a nightmare of pain and disgust. She watched his face tense in the
near-agony of an orgasm as he lay over her, pushed up by her belly, biting at
her distended nipples. He made her squat on him, and yes, his cock was
enormous- every time he pushed deep inside her, she felt him poke at her already
sore cerxiv. The contrast between his polite and caring behaviour in public and
his pent up fury as he slapped her face and punched her belly could not have
been more extreme. Several times, Sally felt blessed oblivion overtake her. He
was not as gentle or as skilled in rousing her as Ivana. Sally held on, knowing
that sooner or later, the time would pass, the thing would be over, and she
would be back in Ivana's hands for whatever would happen then. Madame's house
began to feel like a haven.
Of course, her cervix needed to be dilated and the bladder was first emptied,
and then extracted from her womb. She saw her suddenly slack belly and groaned
at how awful she looked, with her pussy gaping open and raw beneath her flapping
belly. Her breasts were deep purple and red from his teeth; she cradled them in
her arms, sobbing quietly while Madame and Ivana looked on, entranced by Sally's
absorption in her own misfortune.
We could go on and on, but actually, these stories never end. There can be no
ending. Sally is caught in some circle of hell for which Dante had no name, for
some sin or crime which could not exist. These Sallies as people become as
insubstantial as their stories. Their bodies deteriorate; their circle of
friends and family withdraw from them; their Madames have no more use for them
now they look so old and grotesque. This is where they slip out, away, beyond
our ken.
