The Corrector

[A.N. - This was created as a character study for the MadMixer-verse, where a villain would unleash bimbofication devices over the city, with the obvious consequences. The idea got scrapped in favour of my "Masked-M" one, which was very-well received by commissioners and readers alike. I hope you enjoy this piece of technology terrors, descriptive debauchery, and alliterative appeal! - Nailclip Devil]

The Corrector

When Lucy opened her eyes again, the odd woman was still there, grinning. She sported her long white coat, and this might have made her look like some sort of doctor, or physician, a helpful and kind person. The manic grin on her face said otherwise. Blinking, Lucy found herself tied to a chair, in the best villain-y tradition of the city. On her left, two other women were stirring from their seats; they were both young, and, Lucy guessed, somehow attractive, though she had never been the best judge.

The woman wrung her hands together and looked at them. Her voice was as thin as needles.

"Well well well, the little birdies waking up, waking up!"

Lucy would have screamed if she hadn't have her mouth shut close by tape. Another typical villain thing, even from before, when things were not as bad. Before the Mad Mixer. Lucy remembered the woman, she saw her online, on a site put up to warn citizens from possible threats; in the year the Mad Mixer began taking over the city, started turning people, twisting them, rules eroded, logic withered, and all that was left in their wake was a long line of lust.

"You're here to take part in an experiment, my dear," the woman said, and lifted something from a nearby table. Lucy had to blink -- her mind was still fuzzy -- and held up what looked like a blinking crown of metal and wires. "This is a gift," she said, "and ever since I unwrapped it, I wanted to see what this beauty can do!"

The woman approached the first strapped girl, who had been the last to wake up, and looked at the thing with revulsion, trying to escape; the chair rattled against the floor, but was held firm by chains. Then she focused on the woman, a look of recollection in her eyes; the fake doctor stopped, then her smirk turned into a full grin.

"Oh. You know me? From before?" She put the crown on the floor, paying attention to keep it away from our reach, then stepped forwards and tapped on the girls' forehead. "Who knows what's going on in there, hhm? I'm sure you have many a question in there, asking, asking." Without another words, she stripped the tape away from her mouth; it didn't seem to hurt much.

"Y-" the girl sputtered, then held in a breath, bit her lips, and managed to look at the woman into her eyes, "You are Dr. Barish. You used to be my paediatrician. Ten or twelve years ago. What happened to you?"

The named Dr. Barish grinned, and then cupped her hands under her bust, which, I noticed now, stood proud and firm. Those weren't natural.

"The best thing ever, my dear. The very same thing it's going to happen to... all of you."

The Mad Mixer, Lucy thought. So those tits truly weren't natural, in more than a sense.

"The name is Dr. Whorish nowadays. I have been trying to cut myself a slice of the villain cake, but so far I lacked tools; Mad Mixer was so kind to bestow upon me this gift," she pointed at the metal thing, which the more I looked at the more it resembled one of the Mad Mixer's tools, "the Corrector." She then walked around the girl's chair, like a predator. "Hmmm. Can't say I remember you name?"

"Cathy."

"Cathy. Nice name. I'm not sure you'll keep it, but we'll see. I' truly sorry I don't remember you, dear, but I have had so many patients! And now I'm going to have so many more!" She cackled, but it came out more like a cough than a laugh in the end. She looked at Lucy, given she was the other one brave enough -- or stupid enough -- to meet her eyes. "You don't think it sounded too bad, right? Evil laughter is surprisingly difficult."

She looked like she expected her to say something. Anything. She walked up to her and freed her mouth from the tape, though she left it hanging on the side of her mouth.

"I... guess?"

"I practice, you know."

Lucy felt like she was walking on the tiniest of strands. Maybe she could... she could?

"Of course," she encouraged her, "practice makes perfect."

She cackled once more.

"On that subject, my dear I'm afraid you are wrong." She lifted the crown thing from the floor and held it up, "this makes perfect. Plastic makes perfect."

Then, with a sudden movement, she put in on the first girl. She screamed. And screamed.

And screamed.

After a while, her screams ran out of steam and she looked around. Blinked.

"I still have to do anything to you," Dr. Whorish informed her.

Red crawled up on her face.

"With that attitude, I think the Corrector will have a blast at you," the Doctor flipped a switch on the side of the metal scream. "Now, you can scream."

She didn't have time. Some kind of foam sprinkled out of the Corrector, covering her mouth once again, then her eyes, then the rest of her body; in a few seconds, the foam thinned and turned see-through, her clothes turned to dust beneath it.

"You all see, the foam acts as a clothes removal," the Doctor informed us as it finished to eat away at the poor girl's panties; I tried to pry my eyes away, but some sort of morbid fascination pushed me to look. It was like driving next to a car accident, you just have to watch. "And it impedes movement, it seems. I still have to see what it does, so bear with me. Making this up on the fly. Hhm, it also seems it's removing blemishes and impurities? Nice."

Under the action of the membrane, like the girl had been wrapped up by a film, I saw the few marks on her skin being replaced by smooth texture like she were being brushed over by some invisible tool.

"Next... oh, it's a classic!"

Small robotic arms sprouted from the Corrector, aiming for the girl's exposed breasts and lips; they held small vials of a clear liquid.

"Syringes like those always inject a catalyst of a sort, you see," Dr. Whorish explained in her academic tone, as if this was a lesson, "then the catalyst reacts, and the result..." Dr. Whorish passed her fingers on her large breasts, "...it's usually things like these."

She was right. As the needles withdrew, I saw the girls' breasts swell, the skin turning taut, smoother under the pressure of the implants growing inside her. This was a staple of the Mad Mixer. At the same time, her lips, mute under the membrane, also swelled, turning into at first into a pair of healthy, large lips, then going overboard and being overfilled, losing their arched shape in favour of a larger, more arched one, until it looked like she had a bad encounter with some angry bees. Her breasts were not nearly done growing, and they pushed against the membrane, their edge reaching at first to the top of her ribcage, then going lower, and lower, covering more and more of her ribcage as it expanded towards her arms and her belly button, larger and larger, forming at first a thin line of cleavage, then a dent, then a veritable canyon as the girl went from nearly flat to custom-cup proportions in seconds.

"The membrane also seems to stretch her skin," Dr. Whorish pawed at the girl's enlarged breasts, firm but yielding under her fingers, "and the result is no pain or discomfort. In fact..." she looked at the girl's face, with arousal clearly visible in her features, "... it looks like you enjoy this."

The needles retracted, then more came out, holding electrodes; they descended towards the girl's bottom.

"Hm, this is new," Dr. Whorish commented as they reached her skin and a humming started to fill the air; slowly, the girl seemed to grow taller. But it was, as I realized after just a moment, her bottom being filled up. "No catalyst with this little trick. It somehow produces silicone directly inside the tissue. Fascinating."

It stopped after a few more seconds. The girl now sported a pair of ripe buttocks to go with her enlarged breasts. She was in shock, yet I read no pain on her face. That was also the Mad Mixer's way of doing thing like these. No pain. A lot of despicable transformations, though.

"And it's not over," Dr. Whorish said as the Corrected twisted and extended more electrodes, putting them on the girl's forehead. "Now for the good part; but I'd like to give it a twist."

The Corrector stopped humming. Did it listen to her?

"There's many mental options for our little friend here. The Corrector might turn her into a sex kitten, playful and curious about where her next blow-job is going to come from, or she might go classic once again and just fill her head with cotton candy and give us a lovely old-school bimbo. This can all be summed up to four options." She pointed at the four blinking light on the Corrector. "Red, basic bimbo. Blue, sultry seductress. Green, mischievous minx. Purple, hhm..." she tapped on her chin, twice, "... wondrous wildcard? This alliterative appeal always annoys me." She grinned again. "The point, is, instead of what had been done to me, I'm giving you a choice. You can vote. Whatever her path is, it won't be yours. Choose wisely!"

I exchanged looks with the other girl. It was hard to pick up the best choice, but quite easy to avoid the worst one. She nodded.

"Red, please. The red option."

The blonde's eyes lit up, and I read fear and betrayal in them. She tried to pry her head away from the Corrector, but it was no use. Dr. Whorish inched closer and closer with her finger on the red light. Then her grinned turned manic once again.

"You know what? I alter the deal. She gets this instead," and she pushed purple.

Electrodes hummed, and light crackled on their lengths as it run down towards the girl's head; she rolled her eyes up and looked at the ceiling as the Corrector played with her mind. I could only guess what it was doing to her. I suppose I was going to discover it soon.

The Corrector withdrew its arms and the girl blinked. Once, twice. Then a smile settled on her lips, and it wasn't a nice smile. She looked at us, as the membrane dissolved and she stood up, stark naked, and started fondling her breasts.

"Damn, that thing did a number on me. Look at these puppies!" Dr. Whorish clapped her hands in glee. "And this ass! Isn't it delicious? I can't wait to feel one of you pushing your tongue allll the way up." She held a long breath and kneaded her nipples, making her stand up for attention. "Hey, Dr. Whore," she said.

"Dr. Whorish."

"Whatever. That girl tried to fuck me up. Do you mind if I return the favour?"

The doctor looked at me, her grin spreading ever wider.

"That was my plan."

The girl turned towards me and lifted the now still Corrector, making her arms brush against her newly-engorged silicone breasts. I... I would soon look like that.

"Let's see... who wants to build a better, bubbly, big-boobed bimbo?"

"You are getting a hold of this alliterative stuff," Dr. Whorish muttered under her breath.

"I do," the girl said, and slowly, put the crown-thingy on top of my head.

I shivered in my seat. Fuck.