Chapter 11: Mobility Training and Reward
The first step was a revelation.
Bambi’s bare feet touched the cool, polished floor. She stood, supported entirely by Selene’s firm grip under her arm. The weight was immediate, a profound forward pull that threatened to topple her. Her back arched instinctively, her shoulders rolling back to compensate, a posture that thrust her chest out and hollowed her spine. It was an automatic, obscene pose.
“Feel that?” Selene’s voice was close to her ear. “That’s your new center of gravity. Everything is down here now.” A sharp nail traced the upper curve of Bambi’s right breast, making her gasp. “Your balance, your thoughts… your worth.”
Bambi nodded, her gaze fixed on the mirrored wall ahead. The reflection was a shock of pink and platinum and swollen pale flesh. She looked like a doll someone had overinflated. A giggle bubbled up, light and empty. “They’re bouncing, Mistress.”
“They will. Now walk.”
The first shuffling step was clumsy. Her foot slid, her knee buckled slightly, and the mass on her chest swayed, a heavy, pendulous motion that sent a shockwave of sensation through her. The implants moved independently of her muscle, a liquid, jiggling roll that ended with a deep, internal thud against her ribcage. Pleasure, sharp and bright, lanced from her nipples to her clit.
“Oh, god…”
“Again.”
She took another step. Then another. Each movement translated into a mesmerizing, undulating bounce. The weight swung forward with momentum, then pulled back with a gentle, persistent tug. The friction of skin against skin, the soft, heavy slap of underswell against her chest wall with every footfall—it was a constant, rhythmic stimulation that made her cunt ache and weep. Her breathing became shallow, hitched.
“Good girl. Lap the room.”
It was maybe twenty feet around. A journey. Bambi shuffled, her focus narrowing to the mechanics of movement and the cascading feedback from her body. Step. Swing. Throb. Drip. A slick trail of her own arousal was cooling on her inner thighs. The mirrored walls showed her from every angle: the helpless jiggle, the vacant concentration on her face, the way her hands fluttered at her sides, wanting to touch, to steady the mesmerizing motion.
She completed one circuit, then another, a little more stable. The arousal wasn’t spiking; it was plateauing into a steady, humiliating burn. She was constantly on the edge, every bounce a tiny nudge closer.
Selene watched from the center, a statue of satisfied ownership. “Enough walking.”
She pointed to the plush recovery chair, its back facing them. “Bend over it. Present yourself.”
Whimpering with need, Bambi hobbled to the chair. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edges of the seat. The position made her breasts hang down, swaying heavily, the nipples brushing the smooth leather. She pushed her ass out, offering her glistening, pink slit to the room.
She heard the soft click of a clasp, the whisper of leather. She didn’t need to look. She knew.
Selene moved behind her. A hand, cold at first, smoothed over the curve of Bambi’s ass. “Look at you. A hero. Bent over, dripping for a fake cock. Your pretty new tits hanging there like overripe fruit.” The hand landed a sharp, stinging slap on her right cheek. Bambi yelped, pushing back into the sting. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress! I’m just… I’m just a hole with tits, please…”
The head of the strap-on, smooth and cool and impossibly large, nudged at her soaked entrance. It was thick, wider than her own fingers. It pressed, but didn’t enter.
“Beg for it. Properly.”
“Fuck me!” Bambi cried, pushing her hips back, meeting only firm resistance. “Please, Mistress Hypnotica, fuck my dumb bimbo cunt! Stuff me full! I need it, I need it so bad, I’m so empty!” The words spilled out, a script written deep in her stripped psyche.
Selene gave her what she wanted.
In one brutal, unyielding thrust, she sheathed the entire length inside.
Bambi’s scream was pure, shattered sensation. Her cunt stretched, a burning, perfect fullness that mirrored the one in her chest. It drove the air from her lungs. Before she could even process the invasion, Selene withdrew and slammed home again.
And then she set a punishing rhythm.
Each powerful drive of Selene’s hips hammered Bambi into the chair, making her grip slip. The force rippled through her body, translating into a violent, mesmerizing bounce of her hanging breasts. They swung wildly, a chaotic pendulum of flesh, slapping together with wet, meaty sounds as Selene fucked her.
“Uh! Uh! Uh!” Bambi grunted with each impact, her mind dissolving into a white noise of pure animal feeling. The cock was a ruthless piston, scraping her inner walls, pounding against her deepest spots. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, a glorious violation that erased everything.
“This is what you are now!” Selene growled, her own breath coming harder, her control absolute. “A set of tits to bounce and a cunt to fuck! Say it!”
“A set of tits!” Bambi screamed, the syllables jolted out of her. “And a cunt to fuck! Just a cunt! Oh, fuck, right there, please, right there!”
Selene angled deeper, hitting a spot that made Bambi’s vision spark. The coil inside her, wound tight since she first touched her new body, snapped.
Her orgasm was a silent, gaping scream for a second before sound returned—a guttural, ragged howl. Her cunt clamped and convulsed around the invading length, milking it in frantic pulses. Her juices gushed, soaking the leather strap, dripping down her thighs and onto the floor. Her breasts trembled violently with the force of her shaking. She was nothing but a vessel for release, a mindless animal convulsing around a hard fuck.
Selene fucked her through it, prolonging the spasms until they were shudders, then soft, pathetic clenches. Only then did she still, buried to the hilt. She leaned over Bambi’s sweaty back, her lips against the shell of a ear adorned with a new, diamond stud.
“The doctor was right,” Selene murmured, her voice husky with exertion. “The mobility training is essential. You’ll need the core strength. Your next presentation is in three days. A gallery opening. You’ll be on my arm, in a dress that shows these off.” She pinched a dangling nipple, hard. “And you’ll be wearing a remote-controlled vibrator. I’ll decide when you come, and if you do it prettily, you might get a reward.”
She withdrew slowly, the drag making Bambi whimper.
Bambi slumped over the chair, a boneless, used heap. Her breasts were pressed against the cool leather, her cunt throbbed and wept, her mind was a serene, empty beach washed clean by the storm. She felt Selene’s fingers trail through the mess between her legs, then bring them to her mouth.
“Salty,” Selene stated. “Satisfied.”
She unfastened the harness, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. “Clean yourself up. Then rest. We have fittings tomorrow.”
Bambi listened to the click of Selene’s heels recede, then the door hissing shut. She didn’t move. In the mirror’s reflection, she saw the ruin of her mascara, the blissful slackness of her jaw, the glorious, heavy proof of her transformation resting on the chair.
A slow, dreamy smile spread across her face. She was already aching for the vibrator, for the dress, for the next empty, perfect command.