Story: Bella’s Apology, Part 11

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

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It didn’t take long, in terms of hours, for the surgeons to perform Bella’s breast upgrade.  But it marked the final end of the old, prudish Bella who had hidden her beauty and made fun of promiscuous women. 

When the surgery was done, she could no longer see any trace of that shy, prudish Bella in the mirror.  What was staring back at her was a bimbo – blonde-haired, naked, and with fake tits the size of balloons.  Her tattoo was clearly visible along her panty-line – “I CUM FROM RAPE”.  Her clitoral ring poked out visibly from between her pussy lips.  It was obvious to anyone who was looking at her that she had deliberately altered her body to make herself look like a slut and provide sexual pleasure to men.  From now on, anyone who saw her would assume that (a) she was stupid and that (b) she wanted to be fucked, and it didn’t matter who was fucking her or whether she consented. 

She cried a little when she saw herself.  She looked like such a dumb whore.  But wasn’t that exactly what she was?  She fucked her boss at work.  She fucked anonymous men who came to her apartment.  She sucked the cock of her relationship counsellor.  She let Charles lead her around on a leash attached to her clitoris piercing, and she always, always did what Charles said, no matter how demeaning it was. 

No nice girl did those things.  No smart girl did those things.  Only a dumb bimbo whore would act like that.   

And that was exactly what she looked like now. 

Charles was delighted when he saw her.  He discovered her resting on a hospital bed in a private room after the surgery, and was so overcome by the sight of her body that he fucked her right then and there, pulling her down to the edge of the bed and shoving his cock into her pussy. 

“It’s going to be a little while, as your tits heal, before I can fuck them,” he told her.  “And a bit longer still until it’s fine to beat them and torture them.  But I can use your cunt right now.” 

Once he came inside her, he gave her a tiny red two-piece bikini.  He first pushed the pieces up her pussy, soaking them in his cum, and then told her to put them on.  Once Bella wrestled the cum-soaked upper half onto her new udders, she saw that it barely covered her nipples and exposed huge amounts of her bulging new titflesh.    The bikini bottoms were basically string, and the groin covering vanished between her pussy-lips – which were still visibly leaking Charles’ cum. 

Charles took a picture of her like that – spread-legging, oozing sperm, and wearing nothing but the cum-soaked bikini – and told her to post it to all her social media. 

“Tell the world you love your new udders, and how happy you are to look like a porn cow,” he told her. 

“Please, no…” Bella protested. 

“Honey, everyone who ever sees you, for the rest of your life, is going to know you’re a bimbo,” said Charles.  “There’s no point in hiding it.  But if you be a good girl and do as you’re told, I won’t need to spank your pussy.” 

So Bella, tears in her eyes, uploaded the humiliating photo to her social media accounts.  She tried to post the message Charles had asked of her, but, as usual, her phone converted her spelling into something more childish. 

“I luv my new titties ♥ they maek me look liek a pritty cow ♥” 

“All right,” said Charles.  “Time for walkies.”   

He fastened a pair of her ridiculously-high heels onto her feet, then cuffed her hands behind her back. 

“Why do I need to be handcuffed?” she asked. 

“Because you can’t be trusted to have your hands free,” he told her.  “A slut like you might masturbate in public, or something.” 

And then the final step – the demeaning clitoris leash.  The bikini bottoms were so thin that he only needed to slightly push them aside to connect the dog leash to her clitoris ring. 

“Come along,” said Charles, tugging on her leash.  Bella yelped, and jumped to her feet, tottering on the high heels, and then tried to keep up with Charles as he led her by her clit through the private hospital. 

Charles made no effort to conceal the fact that Bella was nude but for a sperm-soaked bikini.  Nor did he bother to hide that she was being led by a dog leash attached to her clitoris.  They passed various doctors, nurses, and patients, who stared at Bella as Charles led her past them – but none of them objected, or made any motion to intervene. 

Bella knew that they didn’t object, because it was obvious that this was exactly what Bella deserved. 

When they left the clinic and reached Charles’ car, Bella was desperate to get inside and hide her shame – but Charles stopped, and got something out of the boot.  It was a collar, like a dog collar, but with a chunky box attached to it about the size of a couple of D-cell batteries. 

“What is that?” she asked. 

“Just a little something for you, sweetie,” he said.  He put it on her neck, centering the chunky box under her jaw.  She heard a snap, and realised it was locked in place so that she couldn’t remove it. 

“See,” said Charles, “with those big porn cow tits you’re *almost* a worthwhile woman.  And you’ve been trying hard to be stupid, like you know you should be.  This is just going to complete the process.” 

“Please, Charles, this is frightening,” said Bella – and then she immediately squealed as the collar gave her a painful shock. 

“Frightening,” said Charles.  “Three syllables.  That’s a no-no, Bella.  You should have said ‘scary’.” 

“I don’t understand,” said Bella – and screamed as she was shocked again. 

“Understand,” said Charles.  “Wrong again.  You should have said ‘I don’t get it’.  You see, the collar has a quite sophisticated speech-to-text computer onboard.  It’s listening to what you say, and if you say a word that has more than three syllables, it shocks you.  It’s just going to train you to use simpler language, like a good bimbo.” 

Bella whimpered. 

“It’ll also shock you if you use words that you really have no business ever saying again,” said Charles.  “Like ‘rights’, ‘feminism’, ‘misogyny’, or ‘consent’.  You can’t say ‘woman’ anymore – but ‘girl’ is okay.  And you can’t say ‘breasts’ or ‘vagina’ – so get used to saying ‘tits’ and ‘cunt’.” 

He paused, and then added, “Oh, and it has a pitch sensor.  It wants you to keep a nice high-pitched feminine voice.  It’s most comfortable just a tiny bit above your normal speaking voice, so that shouldn’t be hard.  But watch out for your laugh – you’ll need to train yourself out of the way you currently laugh, and try a high-pitched giggle instead.” 

She struggled against her restraints, wanting to raise her hands to her neck to remove the collar, even though she knew it was locked in place.

“Stop,” said Charles.  “Bad girl.” 

And again, the collar shocked her.  She squealed and dropped her hands. 

“It does that too,” he said.  “If it hears those words – b-a-d-g-i-r-l – coming from anywhere, it will shock you.  To make it easy to discipline you.  It doesn’t care who says them, so you should probably be careful around other naughty dogs.” 

“Charles… why…” she asked. 

He stepped forward and caressed her cheek – then let his hand drop to run gently across the skin of her newly-upsized tits. 

“Bella, honey, you are SO close to being not worthless,” he told her.  “You’ve got beautiful hair now, and beautiful tits, and you’ve learned to go around on a leash like a good pet.  We just need to make these last changes, to help turn off the last unnecessary bits of your brain.  With this collar, it shouldn’t take long until you forget a whole heap of redundant vocabulary – not that you can *say* ‘redundant’ or ‘vocabulary’ anymore – and soon you’ll be exactly the brainless little bimbo that we both know you should be.” 

“But…” she tried. 

“Stop questioning me,” said Charles.  “Bad girl.” 

And the collar shocked her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. 

“You can apologise properly when we get home,” he told her, “with a blowjob.” 

With that, he let her get into the car.  He passed the handle of her leash to the driver’s seat, and then went around and got in himself. 

“Now, let’s get you home, baby,” he said.  “I bet you’ve been missing your addictive food.  I got you some of that ‘Slut Chunks in Gravy’ that Adam recommended.  It looks truly nasty, but it’s going to feel good to eat it, knowing that it makes you stupider and hornier.  I even got you a pretty dog bowl to eat it out of…” 

He shot a glance at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Isn’t it going to feel good to stop being worthless, baby?” he asked her. 

And for Bella, the worst part was that he was right.  It did feel good – or at least, if she felt this insecure now, with her big tits and her blonde hair and her piercings and her collar, how much worse must she have been before Charles started helping her to improve?

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