This choice: The doctor taps his watch impatiently, some deadline must be approaching. • Go Back...Chapter #4The doctor taps his watch impatiently, some dea... by: Mr. George   "Please, just show me the real options." you beg the agents. Tired and a little bored of their jokes. None of these options are acceptable.
"Please!" you repeat.
The guards exchange a look, Agent Jones answers. "This isn't a joke." He said levelly.
Agent Smith reinforcing his colleague's statement. "It was part of the court's ruling, that you be offered only female bodies... of the style you trafficked."
Your shoulders collapse, their arguments ring true. You didn't make a great impression on the judge, or your earlier interviews. Lacking the appropriate remorse for your crimes. The traded in value of those further up the food chain, seemed to be ample reward for your co-operation. Now, you were reaping the whirlwind, of that particular mistake.
Knowing your choice will be deliberately degrading and abundantly feminine, you take another look through the available women. You know you're hunting for a more modest figure that isn't there, but you need time to contemplate.
As the doctor taps his watch again, you feel the pressure rising. Agent Jones slides one more picture towards you. "Her?" he suggests, "What's wrong with her... you'd certainly get your personal reward from her." He snarled, impatience combining with his distaste for your deal.
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The woman has tits like udders, and a rump that belongs on a horse. You bite back your outraged first response.
"Maybe he lacked discipline and structure growing up, a second attempt might bring out a better human." Agent Smith slid another picture forward.
She's dressed modestly enough. But again the mortifyingly huge bust instantly draws your gaze. Your shoulders ache in empathy, and anticipation... of that or a similar burden to bear. But, he's trying to provoke you with this one, her niqab, and abaya marking her as a woman of faith. There's still no disguising how full figured she is beneath even that unflattering outfit.
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Your mind drinking in those succulent pouting lips, imaging her blowing you. Your throat constricting, as the nausea suddenly snatches that vision away. As you imagine a cock filling your mouth, as you gag and choke it's meaty warmth, for that salty tasty reward. You shake your head, recoiling from the imagined taste you can't shake.
"Bimbos attract both the most, and the least attention." The doctor piped up. "Straddling the line of obvious, and ignored. They're dull and appealing. If you don't decide, I'll implant you in her body."
He slides forth his own suggestion. None of the bodies look to be intellectual, but this particular blonde looks vacantly from the page. Both aware of her appeal, and oddly unaware of its effects, too.
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The question is drawn unbidden. "Jesus, How big is she?"  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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