Becoming Cupcake: Parts 4-7

Parts 1-3


This is a continuing story that takes place within Cherish Valley, fictional city I created.  Although all content and ideas within this story are my own, I invite anyone to write their own stories based within this world.  All I ask is that you email me first ( and ask my permission in doing so and then credit me so

 These stories detail a futuristic “concept town” created in the deserts below “Silicone Valley.”  A town which mirrors, modernizes, and improves upon the setting of The Stepford Wives where women are involuntarily transformed into walking, talking sex bimbos for their horny, desperate husbands.

 They represent an extreme experimentation into the boundaries I set within my sexual preferences and fetishes.  I hope to set off a trend of Cherish Valley tales, such as the Master PC series has and continue the themes and ideas expressed in them into other tales as well.  Hopefully, you’ll see that the possibilities here in Cherish are endless.


“Becoming Cupcake”

Chapter Four – Walking The “Dog”

Walking around Cherish Valley felt like walking around Disney World sometimes.  Only the attractions weren’t underpaid college students in over-sized sweaty, animal costumes.  The attractions were the women, and their over-sized tits and bubble asses. The sweat came from their anxious husbands, boyfriends and masters, who awaited their next blowjobs.  And the costumes were the women’s newly transformed bodies.

But they were all animals.

As Cupcake minced before Melvin, being led out in front like a dog, at least she felt more and more like an animal.  Melvin had even laced her steel collar with a pink satin covering, adorned with studs.  The dangling tag attached, which read: “Cupcake – Property of Melvin Cobbler.  Please Return if Found!”

 Being paraded around town like a good, little, bimbo-puppy was becoming more and more popular around Cherish Valley.  The town board was stern in their belief that the men of Cherish should release their trophies to the public, as a sign of their domination.  A unity and ceremony of society.

In fact, the one-time Allison Anders had accidentally hitchhiked into a town on the verge of a perverted renaissance!

Not that Cherish was ever “tame.”  Only, in the past few months, it had all seemed to get steadily more and more out of control.

As Cupcake continued clicking down the pristine sidewalk she took in all the sites around her.  Across the street was one of those dreadful “Oral Stations” where woman were required to practice their technique.  You would enter a silver looking phone booth of some sort.  Once inside, a soothing male voice instructed you to kneel on the padded floor.  Then a dildo (filled with more donated semen from the town’s sperm bank) slowly came out of the wall before the woman’s awaiting mouth.  The woman would then have to suckle the dildo until it was dry.  And once finished, as she left the booth, a cleansing air system would breeze the room and dildo clean, and it would await the next woman, passing by.

“Oral Stations” were an excellent way to remind the woman of their places in Cherish.  That reminder being, that their mouths were only good for sucking cocks now.  If the men actually felt comfortable feeding them permanently from IV for their rest of their lives… they would.  But there were just too many men who took great pleasure in force feeding their wives all sorts of “goodies.”

Cupcake had learned of Melvin’s adoration for that very fetish… the hard way.  And her tight belly still shook out of fear for her next “helping.”

Up ahead of Melvin and Cupcake, a middle-aged man pushed a baby cart before him, although inside the cart was no baby.  Rather, it was a 23 year old girl forced to become a baby.  Adorned in a pink baby doll nighty with matching booties, mittens and bonnet, the woman lay, strapped into the cart, sucking a binky locked firmly in her mouth.  She twisted and squirmed under he blanket, but there was no escaping this public display of humiliation.

Now it was Melvin’s turn to display his “pet” for all to see.  Pulling on her leash, Cupcake was jerked back a couple of steps and almost fell flat on her ass.  (walking in 7-inch heels will do that to you).

With her dildo dentures in today, Cupcake could only turn around and blink her big, stupid doll eye’s at Melvin.  “Please, I know when my bimbo has to pee her silly little self.” Said Melvin.  “You practically squirmed yourself out of the seat back there in the restaurant.

It was true, Cupcake did have to piss extremely bad.  But she had seen and heard rumor around town of how men let their collared “puppies” relieve themselves while in public.  And she wasn’t ready for that humiliation yet.

According to Melvin… she was.

“C’mon, doll, this tree over here is fine.” said Melvin.  Cupcake hesitated, until Melvin suddenly lashed her ass with his riding cane.


“Muuurghfff!!!” Cupcake screamed into her dildo gag.  A line of drool escaped her wet, pink, collagen lips and collected under her chin.

Thwack!!!  Again.

Melvin wasn’t fooling around.  And no matter how many fat cells they had injected into Cupcake’s round ass, a taste of the cane was still a taste of the cane.  And Melvin could be evil with the weapon.  He liked to keep her ass so sore sometimes that it brought instant tears of pain to her eyes as soon as she was forced to sit on it.

Mincing over towards the tiny, thin tree, Cupcake stood, her pink heels resting in the small dirt bed.  Melvin, meanwhile, was busy unzipping her latex shorts.  This was a task he had to do because Cupcake’s own arms were bound behind her in a “single glove.”  In fact, the only part of her not bound were her feet.  And since the height of her heels made walking an almost impossible task sometimes, they might as well have been bound.

Finishing with her rear, crotch fly, Melvin impatiently pulled Cupcake’s shiny, pink, latex shorts down to her ankles.

There Cupcake stood, a blonde-haired bimbo dressed in pink latex, with a set of dentures in her “corrected” mouth and a dildo attached to their rear, which extended to the top of her throat so she almost choked on it.  Her arms were bound behind her in the matching glove, and she wore pink, high-heeled mules with a 7-inch heel.  Her feet were also encased in cute, little “Mary Jane” socks, with a folded over, lace trim.

And there she stood, ready to take a piss under a tree, with a dog collar around her neck and a leash attached to it… Her Master only feet away, watching her eagerly as she began to squat.

All around, men and their “pets” began to collect and point.  Smirks upon their faces.  Some of them licked their lips and got a little eager themselves.  Even with their own trophies beside them, this spectacle of humiliation never got old in Cherish.

Suddenly, just as Cupcake actually felt like she could relieve herself in this horrible fashion, she sensed the crowd around her.  Looking up, she took in about twelve couples staring at her.

Cupcake began to shake.  Turning to look at Melvin, she pleaded with big wet eyes.

Melvin was not having any of it though, as he was in a rush to get her to the mall before it closed.

“Piss, you fucking dog!!!” he screamed.  This got a laugh from the couples.

And so, shaking, crying and drooling all at once, Cupcake let go of her bladder and a steady torrent of golden piss began to gush from her and collect at her feet in the dirt.  And, try as she might, some of it spilled down her legs.  Cursing to himself, Melvin wiped at these trickles with his handkerchief to prevent it from dirtying her pretty, white socks.

As he knelt at her ankles, the line of Cupcake’s collected drool became so long, that it touched Melvin’s ear.

Immediately, he sprung up, ramrod straight and wiped his ear dry.  Staring a hole through Cupcake’s face, he suddenly grabbed her cheeks and squeezed them such as an Aunt or Uncle would squeeze the cheeks of their reluctant niece.

Holding her face in this humiliating position, Melvin pulled her by the leash so that they were nose to nose.  Whispering, Melvin said, “Wearing a rubber cast of my cock in your mouth is a privilege.  The drool that collects around it should be saved and stored behind those suction-cup lips of yours for lubricant.  Because after we’re done at the mall today, I’m gonna take you home and fuck your face silly.  You’re gonna be sleeping with a full stomach of Daddy’s cum in your belly tonight, doll.”

Instant tears rushed down Cupcake’s cheeks, as Melvin released her.

“Now finish up before we miss the mall.  I want to buy my little Barbie Doll some new toys.”


If Cherish Valley were on the everyday map of the U.S. civilian, then its shopping mall would go down as a national landmark in consumer excess.  But the better part of the country did not even know of the Valley’s existence.  And so its decadence would remain loved only by the town’s civilians.  Three stories high, it gleamed in the sun like a glass church… but was the size of a football stadium.

Every weekend, the citizens of Cherish would flock to the mall like ants flocking to their hole.  Once inside, they were slaves to a spectacle of colors, clothes, toys, food, movies, music and… well, shopping.

But like all things in Cherish, the mall was also a haven where men could decorate their lovely pets like the dolls they had become.  Stores with titles such as Fetish Fems, Slutty Baby Dolls, Plug Her Holes, Real Man, and Clothes For Your Bimbo! were the accepted norm.

Kiosk attractions sold games, toys, snacks, pills, shirts and trinkets all bent on “Keeping her mind on you!”

Whereas a typical Tshirt store in a California mall would sell shirts with taglines that read: “Rock Star,” “No Fear,” and “Austin 3:16.”  The Tshirts in the Cherish Mall sold shirts which read: “SLUT,” “I’m a No-Brainer,” and “I Like To Eat Cum!”

Men adored seeing their wives in these cute, little baby Tshirts that could barely fit them.  Which is why Melvin took Cupcake to that store first.  Standing together in the tight, cramped dressing room, Melvin undid Cupcake’s elbow glove and then removed her “dentures.”

Cupcake immediately began working some life back into her thin arms.  She worked her jawbone up and down, putting life back into her mouth too.

“I undid your restraints so you could try on some of these silly baby Tshirts with all the cute statements on them.” said Melvin.  “And I took out your teeth because, when I get back with your shirts, I expect you to pump my penis dry with those fat lips of yours.”

Cupcake’s mouth opened into a little “o” as she tried to frown at this statement.  The dildo dentures were out of her mouth for less than a minute, and already her mouth would be stuffed again with cock.  This time, by the real thing.

With that, Melvin left the small room, letting the wooden doors swing shut, as they often did in cowboy movies when a villain entered a saloon.

Cupcake barely had a chance to dutifully re-apply a fresh coat of pink lip gloss when Melvin returned with around ten shirts all sized for a 12 year old girl.

“Here, let’s put this one on first.”  Melvin, sweating impatiently, began removing Cupcake’s halter top.

Cupcake’s dim mind reminded her that she could speak now that her dentures were out.  “Umm, like, what does the shirt say, Daddy?”

“Ahh, I see my little bimbo’s conditioning is starting to pay off.”

Cupcake giggled.

“My what?”

Melvin sighed.  “It just means that even naughty puppies can be trained eventually.”

What Melvin really meant, was that he was happy to hear Cupcake calling him “Daddy” so freely now, with little or no resistance in her voice.

<giggle> “Puppy!” squealed Cupcake, and clapped her hands together.

“Stop that,” hissed Melvin, as he guided her arms into the tiny Tshirt.

Cupcake, meanwhile, had to catch her breath.  Her sudden, giddy outburst had confused her.  These silly little bursts of elation were taking her over more and more lately.  Try as she might, the implanted bimbo tendencies in her were slipping out and becoming a constant part of her character.

Even if she were terribly angry at Melvin for something he would put her through back at the house, she could only cry, suck her thumb and act like a bratty little girl.  If she was happy about something, before she knew it she had broken down into a giggling fit and was jumping up and down on her heels, clapping her manicured hands together like a cheerleader while her platinum hair bounced off her shoulders.

Trying to force the shirt over Cupcake’s mammoth 34E tits was like trying to fit a sock over a balloon.  Yet, Melvin was able to force it down until it almost began to rip at the sides.

Cupcake was a comical site in the shirt.  While the collar hugged her neck very tightly, almost choking her, and the sleeves just barely cleared her shoulders… her glorious tits pushed the shirt out so far, that the bottom of it was pulled up above her bellybutton.  It was now a half-shirt… or a cotton bra of some sort.

I guess this is why they only sold them in these sizes.

Between two perky nipples the size of a pinky, the shiny pink shirt read, in bubbly purple font, “Human Cum Deposit.”

Cupcake caught the name in the mirror of the dressing room.

“Like, what does depo—depos—“ she stuttered on the tough word.

“It means that I didn’t take your teeth out so you could prove what an idiot you are.  Now get on your knees.”  Melvin forced Cupcake on to the floor of the tiny room.  Grabbing a mat of her curly, platinum hair… he rammed his fleshy, purple meatstick into the wet collagen cushion of Cupcake’s mouth.

The normal sound of slurping and chortling that was quite popular in Cherish Mall’s many dressing rooms became audible through the Tshirt store.   Although most of the stores customers ignored it; a gorgeous blonde pissing under a sidewalk tree was one thing, a blowjob in a dressing room was between the owner and his pet.

In and out, Melvin shoved his cock deeper into Cupcake’s reluctant mouth.  Already a steady puddle of drool had collected on the chest of Cupcake’s cute new shirt.

It was always the sudden blowjobs that forced Cupcake into a relapse of memories.  Visions of her youth.  Of her stepdad.  Of her dreams fading and life on the road.  Visions which would come back to haunt her as her face was fucked by this perverted senior citizen before her whom she now had to call “Daddy.”  This fetishistic utopia that she now had to call home.  And this purple-headed, “penis-pop” that more and more, tasted like a lollipop.

And so Cupcake sucked and sucked.

Melvin, meanwhile, was in the throes of pleasure.  He could fuck this bimbo’s mouth every hour of the day… and still… it wasn’t enough.  She was simply becoming spectacular.  Those fat lips of her gripped his steak like a tight condom.  “God… uhh… I should just… uhh… cut your arms and legs off (rams) and turn you into a human suck machine.

Cupcake choked on his cock, at that last line.

“Talk to me, bitch.  Tell me how grateful you are that Daddy Melvin feeds you so often each day.”

Melvin liked to hear her try and talk with no teeth and a cock in her mouth.

“Ank yuu Addy.  I yike uu suuk yoor peee—“

“Ohh, shut up.”  And then Melvin exploded in her mouth and Cupcake felt his cock-snot dripping down her tiny throat, finding its new home in her belly.  If this kept up, she would have to have her stomach pumped again, and that was a horror that gave her no pleasure whatsoever.

Zipping up his fly, Melvin commanded, “Lick it clean, baby doll.  Daddy doesn’t like a sticky penis in his underwear.”

Lapping up his penis till it was clean of all semen, Cupcake stared up at Melvin’s face with big blue eyes.  Her face shook from his words.  Melvin was just crazy enough to actually go through with his spoken fantasy of turning her into a limbless suck-machine.

“Come, lets go buy you some toys.” He said.


The rest of the afternoon was spent shopping and parading around the mall.  In spite of her condition, Cupcake couldn’t help but enjoy herself.  She was programmed, after all, to be a bimbo, and bimbos like to shop and look pretty.

Melvin was even nice enough to give her a normal set of teeth to wear while they shopped.  So Cupcake was as chatty as ever as she minced from store to store with Melvin dishing out his credit cards whenever he saw something he’d like to dress her in.

At a candy store, Melvin loaded up on multi-colored bubble gum.  It was the latest craze around town because it supposedly made the girl’s chewing it stupider.  (as if that was possible).  The town Med Center sponsored the gum and there were even popular commercials for it (similar to the “Mentos” commercials) where a chatty, annoying woman tried desperately to berate her hard-working husband because he constantly left the toilet lid open.  Then the commercial would show the husband graciously offering the unaware wife a stick of the gum.

At first, the woman’s face would turn to a confused distaste as she chewed the gum.  But then the commercial would dissolve and you’d see her, hours later, blowing large, pink bubbles while she cleaned the house in a sexy French Maid’s costume.

Melvin, not an independent mind when it came to marketing, stocked up on the gum, filling a brown paper bag to the brim with all sorts of flavors.  Yet even a flavor as strong as raspberry secretly had that cum-flavored after-taste the wives all fought… but were reluctantly learning to love.

Melvin immediately tore into a pack and instructed Cupcake to chew all five sticks at once.  One after one, he shoved them past her fat lips and into her mouth.  “Make sure they don’t stick to your dentures, doll”

<giggle> “Yummy.  Bubble gum!” squealed Cupcake.

Melvin sighed, “Yes, bubble gum.  So I wanna see you blowing bubbles and snapping as loud as you can.  After all, all good bimbos blow bubbles, don’t they?”

<giggle> “Silly, Daddy!”

Minutes later, Melvin had his arm around Cupcake as they continued their shopping.


Cupcake, while not quite used to the taste of the gum, did as she was told and chewed the thick gum, blowing large, pink bubbles like clockwork.


And sure enough, she felt more and more light-headed as the day continued.


She soon wore a glazed look on her face and giggled at everything Melvin said.  At one point, Melvin recognized someone he knew and played golf with.

As the two men talked, the man’s wife gravitated over towards Cupcake.  She was a tall redhead with thunderous tits and a Betty Boop waist.  She was dressed in a purple, angora sweater and had a pencil skirt on, over latex ballet boots.

“Hi, I belong to Howard over there.  My name’s Cindi.  What’s yours?”

Cupcake took one look at Cindi’s outstretched hand and immediately began giggling like crazy.

“Like, you’re really silly, Miss.” said Cindi.

Howard interrupted Melvin when he caught wind of Cupcake’s giggling fit.  “I see you got yourself a regular rocket scientist over there, hey Mel.”

Melvin took it as a compliment.  “Well, you know, Howard… I don’t like em’ too smart.   Females think too much as it is.”

Howard continued to eye Cupcake up and down, ignoring his wife.  (who couldn’t complain anyway).  “Do you mind if I check her out?”

Melvin signaled Cupcake over to Howard.  “Be my guest.”

Standing before Melvin’s pet, Howard took Cupcake in completely.  He walked around her, as if he was sizing up a new car he was interested in buying.

Slapping her ass hard, he said, “Firm, but resilient.”

Coming back to her front, Howard cupped both of Cupcake’s clothed tits in his palms.  “Good size, but I’m surprised you didn’t go bigger.  Cindi’s F-cups are my salvation.”  Cindi giggled proudly at this compliment.

Melvin smirked, “Cindi’s F-cups fit her frame well.  Just as Cupcake’s E’s fit hers.”

Howard laughed, “If you say so, partner.”  His inspection continued, as he reached under Cupcake’s latex shorts and began inserting his fingers into her wet snatch.

Cupcake immediately began moaning and panting… but try as she might, she could not bring herself to slap this stranger’s hands away.  Her mind would just not let her.

“Easy, Howie.  My little Cupcake’s feeling very light-headed right now.”

Melvin’s statement prompted Howard to study Cupcake’s face.  Sticking the same finger in-between Cupcake’s fat, pink lips, Howard smiled; Cupcake was already sucking his finger as if it were Melvin’s penis-pop.

“Great reflexes.  Do you mind if I ask her some questions to test her IQ?  I love doing that.”

“How could I say no to a golfing buddy?” laughed Melvin.

At this point, Cupcake was so giddy off the gum, she didn’t know what planet she was on.  And so when Howard began questioning her, she could only giggle.

Taking in her new baby-T, Howard’s first question was obvious. “Are you a cum deposit, Cupcake?”


This is a continuing story that takes place within Cherish Valley, fictional city I created.  Although all content and ideas within this story are my own, I invite anyone to write their own stories based within this world.  All I ask is that you email me first ( and ask my permission in doing so and then credit me so


These stories detail a futuristic “concept town” created in the deserts below “Silicone Valley.”  A town which mirrors, modernizes, and improves upon the setting of The Stepford Wives where women are involuntarily transformed into walking, talking sex bimbos for their horny, desperate husbands.


They represent an extreme experimentation into the boundaries I set within my sexual preferences and fetishes.  I hope to set off a trend of Cherish Valley tales, such as the Master PC series has and continue the themes and ideas expressed in them into other tales as well.  Hopefully, you’ll see that the possibilities here in Cherish are endless.

*Visit my official Yahoo Club at



“Becoming Cupcake”

Chapter Five – Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner

Cupcake stood in the kitchen, donned in her uniform for the day.  From top to bottom, Cupcake redefined the limits French maid outfits were willing to go in the good town of Cherish Valley.

Pink platform heels so high a girl was forced to be a ballerina for the day, locking ankle straps, and stockings the color of fresh cum, adorned Cupcake’s lower half.  Umbrella-ing from her waist was the pleated, billowing skirt of the dress cinched around a microscopic waist corseted down to 17 inches

Climbing further up was where the fun began. A heart-shaped cut-out with lace trim exposed Cupcake’s 34E milk udders… nipples at constant attention, like the tips of little pinky fingers.  Puffed sleeves sat high on the arms of this porcelain doll of a woman, and a cinched choker of poofy lace had a near strangle-hold over her long neck.

Cupcake’s face, as always, was a work of art, thanks to Dr. Gruber and the good surgeons of Cherish Medical.  On normal occasion, Cupcake could be found staring dumbly ahead, that spark of life that was once Allison Anders still desperately clinging on for dear hope, shown dimly still in her big doll eyes.  A button nose cute enough to chew off and swallow spotted her face above two rolls of fleshy pink cock-sucking pleasure Cupcake knew as her lips.

But for today, Cupcake’s face had to match the extremities of the rest of her outfit… the parts I haven’t told you about yet.  And so where her mouth once struggled to stay completely shut, it now was propped open into a large “O” by a contraption gag which lodged itself just behind the walls of her gums. Sealing itself around her outer lips, it added a good half-inch of width to the girl’s already luscious lips, temporarily giving her the face of a rubber blow-up doll, forever destined to lie stupid and swallow cock.

The upper-face completed this blow-up doll image, as two plastic contacts had been inserted over Cupcake’s eyes which, while not exactly obscuring her vision, kept her eye lids wide open for the duration of the day.  Painted on brows that made a near-fairy tale arch on her forehead completed the image of a silly little dolly of a maid.

Now, getting back to those extremities. Cupcake’s other important holes were decorated for the day as well.  With a skirt so stiff and umbrella-ed that it exposed the lower half of her ass and cunt, all could see how pretty and dressed up Melvin had prepared Cupcake’s nether region.  In the front, a pink rubber washer forced Cupcake’s cunny snatch into an open inviting tunnel for cock.  Behind, her cute little expanding chocolate lifesaver of a anus was dealt the same treatment, rimmed in pink rubber.  So that Cupcake was a living, walking collection of cock-stuffing delight… dressed as a French maid.

For now, those tunnels were sadly without cock… but that would soon change.

Playing the maid wasn’t new to Cupcake.  On hundreds of occasions she was doomed to remember, she had scampered about the kitchen on ballerina stilettos, with dildo plugs buzzing deep in her holes and a mop in her mittened hands, cleaning up the shit and piss puddles left by Melvin, an old man with constant need of diapering due to constant diarrhea.  But Melvin, being a man who always saw the possibilities in any situation, treated his condition as a godsend to lay waste wherever and whenever he wanted.  His silly little wife could either mop it up, or lick it up for all he cared.  (but more and more, he cared for the latter option)

But the “skills” of a Cherish Wife were more than that of simple piss and shit disposals.  Despite their reduced IQs, husbands could have the good doctors of Cherish Medical condition their sluts to at least know how to cook a good pot roast.  And so Cupcake, like many, had unwillingly become a jack of all trades… or at least the slave’s trade.

Today would be different.  Today Cupcake would be cooking, cleaning, and pleasuring strangers.  For Melvin had guests, and there was lots on the menu.


Cupcake wasn’t alone in the kitchen.  Dressed similarly to her, and with matching blow-up doll faces, stood two other maids, wives of Melvin’s guests.  What was once Susan Lefferts, a paralegal destined to join the best firm in Los Angeles, was now Pammy, a cute, but not so bright, Italian brunette dressed in a baby blue maid’s outfit.

Angela Levine, a former brain surgeon that had graduated with honors from Harvard, was now Bubbles, a near retarded redhead that now didn’t even know what region of the body the brain was stored.  Bubbles wore a yellow maid’s outfit the color of scrambled eggs, which nicely set off her fiery mane of candy orange hair where her obligatory maid’s bonnet sat.

Cupcake’s outfit was a bubble gum pink, her hair it’s usual vanilla blonde with severe bangs forming a perfect line above her arched eye brows and a dainty matching bonnet nestled safely atop her mass of bright hair.  And although she had spent the past two hours cooking beside them in the sunny kitchen, Cupcake still found looking, in close-up, at the fetishsized faces of her fellow maid’s repulsive.  Wide open rubber mouths could do nothing but drip a lot. That spillage collected in little plastic Dixie cups attached to each girl’s pinafore bib.  Staring at Pammy’s near-full Dixie cup of congealed drool, Cupcake made an “ehnnn, ehnnn,” noise, which signaled the fourth girl in the room that a clean-up was necessary.

Dressed like a little girl in her pink Alice In Wonderland dress, Penelope Andrews, the fourth girl in the room, approached the maid’s, skipping in her black, patent leather Mary Jane’s, a cock-shaped lollipop in her hand, and a head of French curls, tasseled with lace and ribbon.  The daughter of an extreme “little girl” fetishist, Penelope was once a 17 year old girl who wanted nothing more than to turn 18 years old so her geezer of a father would finally start taking her seriously. Hell, she’d even start smoking now that she could… just to spite him and all his old school traditionalist morals.

The only problem was, Richard, her father, wanted nothing to do with this plan.  And so upon Penelope’s 18th birthday, he moved the family to Cherish where he had his wife Miranda turned into a big breasted Nanny, and his daughter, Penelope, transformed into a simpering image of a little girl – a near replica of Shirley Temple, his childhood crush and the first image of femininity to ever make him cum in his shorts.

And so, instead of using her fake ID to get into bars where she could smoke cigarettes and go dancing with her friends, Penelope’s days were erased of any such cool adult things.  All because her perverted and decrepit old father had once happened to catch Shirley Temple on TV in Little Miss Marker when he was a horny teen, Penelope was now trapped in childhood forever, doomed to spend her days playing with dolls dressed exactly like her, watching Sesame Street, and shitting in her diapers with an ass rendered near incontinent.

Today, however, she had been given a “big girl” job, which was to keep an eye on the silly little maids and make sure their drool cups were properly emptied every 30 minutes.

Snapping the little pink Dixie cup off the holder on Pammy’s pinafore, little Penelope placed it gently on the counter.  She then went over to Bubbles and Cupcake’s drool cups and removed them too.  Next, was Penelope’s favorite part: One by one, she approached each maid with her color-coordinated Dixie cup.  Cupcake was fed Pammy’s pink cup, to match her pink uniform.  With a mouth trapped open, Cupcake could do nothing but gag from her lower throat as Penelope stood on tip toes and poured the full cup of congealed drool down Cupcake’s protesting throat.  It was her 5th helping of the day of pure drool, but Cupcake still wasn’t used to it. She felt as if she were being made to swallow the left-over saliva-waste of another woman… and in a way, that’s exactly what it was.

Still, Cupcake took some perverse pleasure in observing the looks of stark horror on the faces of her fellow maid’s as they were given their doses of Dixie cup drool likewise.


With the cooking completed and the plates and drinks set, the maid’s stepped away from the stove and counters and Penelope prepared for her next big girl job.  Affixing their arms into single, leather gloves, which looped around each shoulder and laced up tightly at their backs, forcing their elbows impossibly together and their hands tightly against the smalls of their backs, Penelope one by one turned the maid’s into armless servants.  The bondage arm-gloves matched their uniforms and were concealed by lace and the long hair which draped down the backs of the maid’s heads.

But where the maid’s arms once were, amendments to their outfits had been made in advance, and fake, mannequin-like arms were then attached.  The short, puffy sleeves of the transforming outfit did nothing to conceal the long, plastic arms each girl now possessed.  If you were looking at the maid’s from the front, you would think they were amputees that had been given mannequin arm transplants.  But their real arms lay safely, if not uncomfortably, strapped behind them.

When each girl’s new “arms” were attached, Penelope then went and pulled large, rubber gloves over each girl’s “hands.”  Similar to the gloves Mario and Luigi of Super Mario Brothers wore, these gloves were large enough to be comical, but small enough to be economical enough to hold a dinner tray.  And so when each girl had her gloves on, Penelope carefully began loading up their trays, which besides laying on top of the poofy white hands they now possessed, was strapped around their waist by a secure metal bracket.

The completed picture displayed three bimbo maids, a collection of latex, lace, mannequin, and blow-up doll.  Gaping orifices in the mouth, cunt, and ass.  Little cups collecting their next 30 minutes of saliva waste.  Pastel colors over creamy porcelain skin, make-up, and silly little minds.  And an affixed tray of dinner and drink.

Let the party begin.


Pushing open the doors of the kitchen, Penelope guided the three maids into the room where Melvin and company all sat lazily around a long couch, a golf tournament playing loudly before them on the large-screen TV.

At the sight of the silly looking yet ultra-hot maids, the men all mockingly began clapping and Hurraying.  Richard, not wanting his little girl to ruin the spectacle the maid’s were making, called out, “C’mon ‘ere, baby doll!”

Skipping across the living room, large pink bow bouncing off her curly mane of hair, Penelope leaped onto Rick’s lap and immediately pushed a thumb in-between wet, pink lips, like she was taught.

Hobbling towards the long coffee table, Cupcake led the way as the maid’s one by one kneeled carefully on the carpet so that their dinner trays were level with the table.  The men immediately began laying the food and plates out across the coffee table, trading glances between the golf tournament on TV, and the three pastel colored bimbos before them.

Herman, Bubble’s husband, satisfied with the plate before him, signaled to his crotch.  Bubbles made her way towards him, carefully walking on knees so as not to put a tear in her stockings.  Like a trained puppy, Bubbles halted before her master’s lap.  Leaning forward, Herman pressed a button that rested on the inside of the gag in Bubbles mouth.  A second later, the rubber lips of the gag began to expand and inflate, like a balloon, until what was once a gaping hole on her face now blew up until a tight little hole, about the size of an asshole, was all that remained where her “mouth” once was.  Unzippering his slacks, Herman grabbed a mat of his wife’s candy apple hair and impaled his cock into the tight little hole of her inflated “lips”.  Unable to do anything but suck and drool, Bubbles committed herself to becoming a human blowjob machine for as long as Rick could hold his load… which was quite long.

Jeff, Pammy’s overweight husband, was too busy watching the tournament to even notice Bubble’s and her cocksucking attributes, or the fact that Pammy still kneeled before him waiting to have her tray unloaded.  In her former life, Pammy hated golf.  She hated her husband watching golf.  She hated the food he’d stuff his fat face with when he played golf.  The beer he’d drink with his friends at the course’s local pub.  He’d come home stinking of Miller Genuine Draft and want to feel her up and call her “baby” while he watched ESPN’s recaps that night.

To combat this fixation with junk food, booze, and golf, the former Mrs. Susan Lefferts, Los Angeles paralegal with a slob for a husband, did everything in her power to make life for Jeff hell.  If she wasn’t chastising him about his diet habits 24/7, she was hiding his golf clubs, conveniently forgetting to tell him when his friend’s called to hang out, and even going so far as to get him on a strict exercise regime.

All of this was thrown out the window when Jeff moved his smart, legal bitch of a wife to Cherish Valley last year.  Things had changed for Susan very quickly, and from the morning she awoke in a hospital bed as Pammy the bimbo wife, she had drank nothing but Jeff’s piss… eaten nothing but Jeff’s vomit and feces… and for dessert, enjoyed nothing but his cock-snotted cum.  See, Jeff may have been an unfit slob, but he was a vindictive unfit slob.  He had even done the medical research, met with covert health experts, and prepared long and hard for his trip with Susan to Cherish, knowing that a steady life-long diet of piss, shit and cum was indeed possible… and very necessary in the case of his bitchy lawyer of a wife.

For Susan, life as Pammy was a living, breathing nightmare.  Unlike some husbands who wanted their wives to just be complete airheads with no memory, Jeff shared Melvin’s sadistic side for making them airheads who could remember, all too well, what they once were and would never be again.  So every morning, lunch and night… every spoonful, dollop, and healthy dosage of Jeff’s bodily waste, just added to the inevitable cracking of Pammy’s mental state, a day Jeff awaited and would relish.

Recounting the horror that was now her life, Pammy accidentally lost her knee placement on the rug, toppling a fresh pint of Miller Genuine Draft all over and onto Jeff’s plate of pot roast, squash, and green peas.

The room seemed to grow quiet.  Melvin, who was busy nibbling on a piece of corn bread while dipping a finger coated in gravy deep into Cupcake’s exposed cunny snatch was the first to turn and see the devastating look of immediate sadness on Pammy’s face as she realized her blunder.

“What the hell,” said Jeff, staring down at his ruined plate of hard cooked food.

“Ughhnnnn…”  pleaded Pammy, as she instinctively leaned back, a line of drool collecting on her chin.  But Jeff was quick, and with a whish of air, he planted a fat smack against Pammy’s left cheek, nearly knocking her off balance again.

The smack sounded like a well-placed spanking on some bimbo’s bubble of an ass.  The room grew even quieter as the TV was lowered and the sound of Bubble’s vacuum of a mouth making squishy blowjob noises become the room tone.

“So, even now… new city, new house… new tits and lips for my precious little lawyer… Even now I can’t sit and watch the golf game without something being thrown back in my face.” said Jeff, his tone growing louder, angrier.

If Pammy could talk, she would apologize, she would say it was a mistake.  She would say she was a good girl now.  She was his “baby.”  She would never say or make him do those things again.

She would say it would never happen again.

But Jeff had her say those things every night anyway, and it did no good.  And even if it would, right now she couldn’t talk.  All she could do was drool and cry behind plastic eye contacts, unable to close and hide from whatever Jeff was going to deal out to her.

“Dick, have that little strawberry shortcake of yours go fetch my golf balls from my bag, will ya.”

“You heard him, dear.” commanded Richard, as Penelope hopped up and skipped over towards Melvin’s front door where the guys had all dropped off their golf bags earlier in the day.  Skipping back over, Penelope placed a handful of dirty, used golf balls on the large man’s lap, giving an icky face as she did.  Jeff planted a wet, smelly kiss on Penelope’s forehead.  “Good girl.”

He then pointed a fat, stubby finger at Pammy and said, “You… bad girl.”  This got an immature laugh from the rest of the men in the room.  Bubbles would have wanted to watch, but her conditioned brain was in bliss, knowing that this sweat hog of a cock touching the back of her throat was the only thing she need care about in this moment on Earth.

Cupcake, still standing on painfully high heels wanted to cry for Pammy, but she had her own problems.  Melvin had a way of getting ideas from his friends, and she was quite frightened that whatever plans Jeff had for Pammy would later be dealt to her.

While Cupcake was wrestling with these horrific thoughts, a wrinkled, gravy-coated finger struggling from arthritis, buried deep in her cooch, Jeff was grabbing a mat of his wife’s raven Mediterranean hair and yanking her closer to him.  Removing her maid’s tray, Jeff pushed her, face first, over his lap, so that she was in prime “spanking position.”

With a hard yank, Jeff pulled her short, crisp maid’s skirt higher than it already was, causing the plug which opened her anus to yank upwards. This got a loud throaty gagging scream from Pammy… two lines of drool extending from her rubber lips and into her cup.

Seeing this, Jeff grabbed the first golf ball and daintily dipped it into his wife’s drool cup.  Removing it from the cup, the ball looked like it had been dipped in cum.  Cobwebs of saliva hung from it and Jeff savored the look his wife gave when he held it up to her open eyes to see.  She already knew where it was going, as did everyone else in the room.

Still, when Jeff began to push the dirty, drool-coated golf ball into his wife’s pert little button of an anus, Pammy squirmed and screamed from within her lower throat… a horrible sound that only the men of Cherish could get off on, as they knew it all too well.  You’d hear it while your wife tried to turn her head far enough from a spoonful of steaming feces.  You’d hear it when a husband started his 10th round of spanking for the night.  You’d hear it when a husband decided he wanted to brand his name and cell phone number on his wife’s ass cheek so if she got lost, people would know where to return her.  It was the sound of pain for one, and pleasure for another.  A seamless mix sometimes.

Pammy had been trained well and would have known to squirm even if this felt good and not vile.  After all, Jeff liked her to beg, he liked her to fight… he liked her to squirm and try and escape whatever he could find and put into her asshole each the day. But all the squirming and screaming couldn’t save her and one by one, Jeff pushed the balls deep into her smelly cherry pot.

During the third ball, Jeff had an idea.  “Melvin, think I could borrow that tart of yours for a moment?  My wife looks like she could use a little dessert to go with this stuffing.”

Melvin removed his old hairy finger from Cupcake’s cunt with a “swquiishhhh” noise, thick gravy dripping from its nether lips.  He then planted a good, firm smack on her pillow of an ass.  “You heard the man.  Go!”

Cupcake hobbled forward towards Jeff, unsure of what was expected of her.  When she was as close to him as she could get, without touching Pammy’s face, it dawned on her feeble mind what was in store for her, and despite how the day was going, she was relieved.

Placing his fat hand into Pammy’s mouth, Jeff removed the rubber lip gag with a wet “splooosh” of released saliva.

“Arhoooow.” said his wife as her mouth was freed from the sadistic gag.  Racing to exercise her jaw muscles, Pammy savored the few seconds of freedom she was granted.  But that was exactly when Jeff grabbed her hair again and said, “I think it’s time for your dessert.  Nibble on Melvin’s little cupcake like a proper slut.  He’s got some gravy coddler for you.”

Jeff, knowing how deplorable the former Mrs. Lefferts found girl on girl action, smiled a fat, slimy smile as his wife’s protesting mouth was mashed into Cupcake’s hot, steaming, honey patch of a cunt.

“Daddy Dick, can I go watch?” asked Penelope.

“Sure, baby.  Go ahead.”  said Rick.

Penelope skipped over to the action and was soon kneeling as close as she could as Pammy was forced to lick, nibble, and eat out Cupcake’s wet snatch.  Already their were warm pussy juices collected at her chin for, despite how much she hated it, Cherish Medical made sure that Pammy was to be a queen muff eater.

Cupcake meanwhile was in bimbo heaven.  As artificial as Cherish Medical might have made her, the most natural enhancement they had given her was the ability to give and receive pleasure.  Writhing up and down, her pelvis thrust her snatch further into Pammy’s now hungry mouth…tongue impaling her like a flexible cock.  And that was when Jeff began the ruthless spanking of Pammy’s ass… each smack stuffing the dirty, round golf balls further in.


Muffle scream…


Muffled shriek…


Muffled sobs…

When the spanking was over, Pammy would be made to shit each ball out into a bowl her husband held.  She would then be made to suck and lick each ball clean so that they’d be ready for his game tomorrow with the boys.

But that wouldn’t be till tomorrow.  And the spanking would last as long as it took Cupcake to cum in his wife’s face with her hot, sticky pussy juices.

And so Penelope watched like a little girl with her nose pressed against the TV as Barney or Blue’s Clues played.  But this was no children’s show she was watching.  This was now the life of four airheads, formerly women and adolescents with futures, aspirations, dreams… all dashed by the wants and needs of horny, intelligent, sadistic men.

If either Penelope, Pammy, Bubbles or Cupcake had the right frame of mind to look, they would see two things.  They would see Melvin watching Penelope, licking his lips, getting ideas.  Then, they would see Richard watching Cupcake, stroking his crotch, observing her perfect shade of vanilla blonde hair.  Not too platinum, not too strawberry… The color of pure bimbo.  Her curls were a thing of beauty, they painted a visage that begged to be fully transformed into what he strived for with his daughter: total, simpering little girlhood.

He studied Cupcake’s glorious tits and her erect nipples.  Her heart-shaped ass and its button tunnel of an anus…the ass just begging for a proper spanking… the anus asking to be deeply invaded.  Blue eyes like a doll’s… so big and innocent…so ready for more corruption and depravity.  Continuing down now, beneath the rubber gag was her glistening, pink, cock-sucking lips, drooling with hunger and pleasure.  They begged to be wrapped around a dildo-shaped pacifier.  A binky that would inflate her mouth and remind her of Daddy Dick’s hairy cock, and its nurturing assurance.

“Cupcake…” he whispered.  “Daddy’s little girl…” stroking his cock hard now, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice as he came hard and sudden in his trousers.

Cupcake was a walking Barbie Doll.  Exquisite.  The best Cherish had to offer.  And Richard wanted her for his own.  He wanted her in diapers, sucking on that dildo-shaped pacifier like it was her thumb (or his cock). Shitting in her diapers and crying as “Daddy Dick” fucked her to sleep… sang her a lullaby

“Penelope, give Cupcake a kiss.” said Richard.

Penelope stood up, and with a little cupid’s bow of pink lips, she pressed her mouth against Cupcake’s blow-up doll face. She tickled the roof of her mouth with a curious little girl’s tongue.  She planted cute little kisses up and down what would soon belong to Richard.

To be continued in chapter 6, “Show And Tell.”

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If you liked this fifth  chapter of my story, “Becoming Cupcake,” let me know.  I’ve been asked for a while now to get some lesbian action in this story.  I was also requested to get some more spanking scenes in here.  For me, I am a big sucker for a girl in uniform, so the French maid outfits were a given.  But lately, I’ve been having other fetishes which you’ll notice have creeped their way in.  Women being turned into blow-up dolls, women’s mouths dripping with drool, and of course, beautiful adult women dressed like simpering little girls.

But I have plenty more planned for Allison… so ALWAYS email me if you want to see something I haven’t yet done.

Hope you’re enjoying this story so far.  The fan mail has been very instrumental in providing me a direction on where to take this story.  Which is why I have created an account solely for the purpose of feedback from each story.  So PLEASE email me if you like where I’m taking the story.  I can always use more encouragement.

 Later – The Mayor


This is a continuing story that takes place within Cherish Valley, fictional city I created.  Although all content and ideas within this story are my own, I invite anyone to write their own stories based within this world.  All I ask is that you email me first ( and ask my permission in doing so and then credit me so

These stories detail a futuristic “concept town” created in the deserts below “Silicone Valley.”  A town which mirrors, modernizes, and improves upon the setting of The Stepford Wives where women are involuntarily transformed into walking, talking sex bimbos for their horny, desperate husbands.

They represent an extreme experimentation into the boundaries I set within my sexual preferences and fetishes.  I hope to set off a trend of Cherish Valley tales, such as the Master PC series has and continue the themes and ideas expressed in them into other tales as well.  Hopefully, you’ll see that the possibilities here in Cherish are endless.

*Visit my official Yahoo Club at


“Becoming Cupcake”

Chapter Six – Show And Tell

It was getting on in the day when all the men and their trophy bimbos retired home for the day.  Each girl, knowing her manners, had to accept a senile kiss from their lewd host.  But Melvin had a tendency to shake in his old age as the days wore on.  And so each woman left the house with their own lipstick smeared on their faces.

All but one.  For Penelope lay curled up on the couch with a thumb firmly planted in-between her painted pink rosebud cunt of a mouth.  The ESPN recap of the gold tournament played softly in the background, big words about an adult sport Penelope could no longer get a grasp of with her little girl mind.

Standing over her, like a protective, yet slightly eager father, Richard watched his sleeping doll, occasionally reaching down to stroke her chocolate brown curls.

Melvin watched him from the door, not sure if he should fear this man or admire him.  Richard kept things to himself.  He was one of the few prominent husbands in town whose wife never seemed to see the light of day.  Was he ashamed of her?  Did she need more surgery?  Bigger tits and a tighter snatch, perhaps?  Or was Richard just a secretive man, unconcerned by the trappings of exhibitionism.

Sniff, sniff.

Melvin’s wrinkled nose twitched up and down.

“Your angel seems to have had an accident.” said Melvin, as he crossed the living room and made for the kitchen.

“That she has,” purred Richard, smiling slightly.

Melvin was in the kitchen, taking something for his heartburn.  “You gonna change her?”

“Nah, I’ll let her sleep in it for a bit.  I like to think of it squishing all around uncomfortably down there.” said Richard.

In her sleep, Penelope shifted around on the couch, sloshing that pasty mess all around her diaper like a puddle of mud.

Richard turned away from his sleeping angel and slowly meandered into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.  “And where’s that little hose-muffin of yours?”

“Cupcake’ll be down soon,” grinned Melvin, glancing up at the ceiling.  “But come, take a load off.  I’ll pour you a shot.”

Richard joined the old man at his large glass kitchen table.  Sensing a certain awkwardness in the room, Richard changed gears.  “That was some game, huh?”

“Yeah, that black boy sure can swing a 3-iron.”

As Melvin poured the shots, Richard continually glanced up at the ceiling, or back at his Penelope.  Always avoiding the bloodshot gaze of Melvin Coddler, an old man renown in town for his catch.  Perhaps the oldest man with the youngest bride.  Cupcake was only 19 when she was caught by Cherish Med.  And here Melvin was pushing his 80s.  Nobody deserved luck like that.

As if on cue from these secret thoughts, the click of ballerina heels pre-empted Cupcake’s walk down the steps and into the kitchen.

Richard nearly gagged on his shot when he took in the dripping, fetishistic outfit that was Cupcake’s night attire.

From toe to forehead, Cupcake was bathed in a purple-ish/pink, latex catsuit.  Starting from her sky-high stiletto heels, Cupcake’s altered feet were crammed into ballerina heels two sizes two small for her.  Inside, her crushed toes screamed for freedom, while her surgically enhanced ankle tendons stretched beyond the limit of what a standing person should attempt in shoes of this fashion.

Seamless with the legs of the outfit, the heels bled into the long, candy-canes that were Cupcake’s calves.  Then knees to thighs so juicy yet toned, that you could serve them on a silver plate on Thanksgiving.  Melvin would sometimes stare at the lush, pinkish tones of Cupcake’s skin and think they concealed Vanilla custard behind their fleshy walls.

Continuing up, her pink, sopping wet pussy was concealed behind a teasing, peek-a-boo zipper, which had a heart-shaped tag on the end of it.  The zipper closed just below the microscopic enigma that was Cupcake’s 16-inch waist.

From here on out, it was model physics defied as Cupcake’s washboard stomach stretched up to two a pair of EE tits, encased and constrained behind a mirror shine latex.

With the smallest heart-shape cut into her catsuit’s chest, Cupcake’s twin globes peeked out from the outfit like a newborn’s ass.  Despite the thickness of the suit, her erect nipples poked against the latex like little tatter tots, ready to be bathed in barbeque sauce and swallowed up.

The outfit sheathed her arms up to her wrists, allowing her immaculate hands with pink French manicure acrylic nails to rest at her sides, dutifully.  While glamorous in display, Cupcake’s nails made her hands virtually useless, as they got in the way of performing such simple tasks as tying a shoe or switching the TV remote.

Her neck was nearly strangled by the small opening of the catsuit’s head, which encased Cupcake’s skull like a second skin.  Rising to just below her chin, it snaked its way up the back of her head all the way around to the top of her forehead.  And with her gorgeous mane of vanilla blonde curls spilled out of a tiny opening at the back of the latex cap, Cupcake resembled some sort of female superhero, built for sin.

Stenciled across the chest of the outfit, just above the heart shaped hole at the tits, were the words, “Bimbo Slut.”

Managing to get his shot down at last, Richard gulped.  “Do you have to stencil it on her chest?”

Melvin smiled.  “I like her to always be reminded.”

Taking in the frightened, yet slightly vacant look in the girls doey eyes, Richard said, “As if she could forget.  The girl’s a walking—“

“—Barbie doll?” said Melvin.

Richard cleared his throat.  “Exactly.”

“Yes, Cupcake gets that a lot.  I mean, any man in town can have his wife altered to look that way, but Cupcake’s the real deal.”  Melvin stood up and placed a wrinkled finger, wrought by arthritis, onto the girl’s fat bottom lip.  “Isn’t she.”

Cupcake faked a smile for her master.  “Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy, what?”  said Melvin.

Cupcake opened her mouth slightly, expecting Melvin to stick that wrinkled appendage into her hole.  But the old man let her speak first.

“I’m your little Barbie Doll, Daddy.”  And with that, a tear drop edged its way out of Cupcake’s left eye, and then slowly dripped down her face, resting on her chin, where it refused to fall.

Turning to Richard, Melvin said, “Did you see that?”  Melvin flicked the tear free.  “Perfect.”

Richard saw it alright.  And his cock had never been so hard.

The old man was showing off.  But fuck it.  Let him.

As if to further prove Richard’s thought, Melvin dipped a finger into Cupcake’s mouth, past her glazed, collagen-enhanced lips, swathed in layer beyond layer of bubble-gum pink lip gloss.  Lip gloss fit for some Prom Princess tart.

And like a tight cunt accepting a hard cock, Cupcake’s lips swallowed up around Melvin’s hairy finger like a snake eating a live rabbit.  With a wet “uuussssllllluuuussshhhh” the big “O” on her mouth became a little “o” and Cupcake’s lips cocooned around Melvin’s finger.  And then in and out, he pumped… now putting a second… then a third finger in.  In and out.  Pushing past that pink donut cunt she called a mouth.  Fucking her silly face, as more tears rolled down those porcelain cheeks and Cupcake had to concentrate not to turn a chortle into a choking which would produce drool. She hated drooling but found she’d be doing it during such simple acts as staring at a clock or a calendar.  Things that just didn’t make sense to her anymore.

Richard thought, if hands could cum, Melvin’s fingers would orgasm right now.

But Melvin was pulling his hand from Cupcake’s perfect mouth.  And now he was spinning her around like a ballerina on a dildo pedestal, until her heart-shaped pillow of an ass was staring at Richard in the eyes.

And here it was revealed that the back of his latex cocoon of an outfit had a zipper on it too.  And behind this zipper was Cupcake’s backdoor hole.

Slowly pulling the zipper down, Cupcake braved a quick glance over her small shoulder.  But Melvin was quick.

“Eyes forward!”  And a smack on the ass.

Cupcake winced, tottering on her toes.

God, the old man was quick.

“Cupcake, tell Richard what this hole is for.”

Without missing a beat, Cupcake trembled out the words, “For me to make poo poo.”


“For Daddy to stuff his pee pee inside,” words barely audible from the sobbing girl.  So cute.  Richard had shifted in his seat at the mention of the word ‘Daddy.’ Now we were getting somewhere.

“Cupcake, lay over Richard’s lap.”

Richard said, “Wait, don’t you think I should—“

But Cupcake obeyed, and approaching Richard with tottering steps, she laid over his lap in the spanking position, and Richard suddenly found himself accepting a mane of Strawberry Vanilla blonde hair on his lap, attached to a curvy body just itching to be invaded.

Richard tried to keep a cool face, but his voice betrayed the uneasiness he felt at having Cupcake so vulnerably displayed on his lap in front of her Master.

“What’s up, Melvin?”

Melvin was reaching into a drawer, “Just wait, Richard. It gets better.”

Turning back, Melvin approached Richard with a hot pink vibrated dildo plug so long and thick, it was intimidating.

“Put this up her ass.” Said Melvin. As simple as asking what time it was.

Richard, holding the large dildo, could now hear Cupcake sobbing beneath him.  God, the girl was dripping, whether tears, snot or drool, some sort of puddle was collecting beneath her face, which hung inches from the tiled floor of Melvin’s kitchen.

“Something wrong, Richard?  I know how you feel about Cupcake. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Said Melvin.

Richard wanted to refute Melvin’s claims, but the man spoke the truth.

“What about lubricant?”

“The girl produces her own.” Said Melvin, gesturing to the puddle at the floor.

And so, grabbing a mane of the bimbo’s hair, Richard yanked Cupcake’s head back, so that her face was visible again at the level of his lap.

“Ayyhhhhhh” sobbed Cupcake, as her back is wrenched unnaturally.

“Shut up,” Said Richard, getting into it now. “Open your mouth, Cupcake.”

The pink donut of Cupcake’s suction cup mouth opens and Richard dips as much of the long dildo down her throat as he can, waiting until the girl is near vomiting from choking on it.  Then, with a slow pull, the dildo is extracted, dripping in a cobweb of thick, lubricating drool.  Drool so slick you could package it and sell it as KY Jelly.

Letting go off her hair, Cupcake’s face drops down, almost smacking the tiled floor. Instead, her nose dips into her own puddle of snot, drool and tears collected on the floor beneath her.

Melvin, not missing a beat, says, “Rub your face in it, slut, while Richard plugs you up.”



This is a continuing story that takes place within Cherish Valley, fictional city I created.  Although all content and ideas within this story are my own, I invite anyone to write their own stories based within this world.  All I ask is that you email me first ( and ask my permission in doing so and then credit me so

These stories detail a futuristic “concept town” created in the deserts below “Silicone Valley.”  A town which mirrors, modernizes, and improves upon the setting of The Stepford Wives where women are involuntarily transformed into walking, talking sex bimbos for their horny, desperate husbands.

They represent an extreme experimentation into the boundaries I set within my sexual preferences and fetishes.  I hope to set off a trend of Cherish Valley tales, such as the Master PC series has and continue the themes and ideas expressed in them into other tales as well.  Hopefully, you’ll see that the possibilities here in Cherish are endless.

*Visit my official Yahoo Club at


“Becoming Cupcake”

Chapter Seven – Daddy’s Little Girl

The way Richard acquired his newest plaything was, he invited Melvin – the old man, the cracked, aging fool of a man – to go play golf at the Cherish Valley golf club.  The club with that big impressive set of brick stairs leading up the big hill.  The green.  Hole 1.  And it was at the top of that staircase that the talk shifted from the weather and the local sports scores, to just how lucky a guy Melvin was to have a little tart like Cupcake as his personal fuckslut.  Too lucky even.  Hell, it was downright unfair that a man in Richard’s shape and condition, a man in his prime, a man with plenty of more spunk to ignite, should be deprived of a piece of tits and ass like that Cupcake.

Obviously, when the conversation shifted like this, so did Melvin’s tone. Richard had been standing a little too close for comfort ever since they parked his Scion in the lot 500 steps below. He had been speaking almost mouth to ear to Melvin, as if Melvin was that deaf.  Perhaps a condescending way about the guy from the moment Rick showed up outside his house thirty minutes earlier.  That smug way he opened the door for Melvin.  Would’ve gotten out a wheel chair if he had one in the trunk.

Melvin wasn’t sure how he personally felt about Richard up until today.  He was just a golfing buddy.  The golfing buddy with the little girl.  And boy did Richard love to talk her up.  Penelope, his own daughter, now a simpering little girl with lollipops and teddy bears.  Mind you, Melvin had no problem with this form of transformation.  The girl Cupcake use to be in her former life was only a few years older than Rick’s little girl actually was.  But it was the way he went on and on about her.  Like she was some coveted Cabbage Patch Kid he had stolen out from the other eager parents at a Toys R Us sale.  Not content to just accept his conquest and live the good life, Rick was one of those guys who always strived to one-up you.

But deep down, both men knew that as long as Cupcake wore Melvin’s collar, it didn’t matter what piece of ass Rick owned.

Perhaps this realization hit Melvin too late. Perhaps he realized that it was strange that the conversation should shift from sunny days and baseball scores to Cupcake and Penelope, just as they stood at the brink of that 500 step drop down to the black-topped parking lot of the Cherish Valley golf course.

One second Melvin was giving this realization serious consideration.  The next, and Rick was violently shoving Melvin forward, off the top step, and tumbling down the bricks to his doom.  Rick watched closely, waiting to see on which step Melvin’s neck would snap.  He counted it at about halfway down, maybe step 275. A loud snap, like a stubborn tree branch cracking in half, and the rest of Melvin that was tumbling down to the hot blacktop was just thin flesh and brittle bone.


Not more than a couple days after Melvin was in the ground, rotting with the worms, Cupcake become the property of the town of Cherish Valley.  Now normally, a girl with a previous owner that had passed on would usually be put to work in the town.  In Cupcake’s case, this would probably mean some sort of escort service.  This would be if she was lucky.  Recently widowed wives and girlfriend’s in Cherish could sometimes be mysteriously snatched up by greedy town politicians, or doctors at the Med Center who got greedy and wouldn’t mind a “freebie” on the side.  Being undeclared, the poor girl could fall pray to whatever sick desires the kidnaper had in mind.  There was even a rumor that many of the popular rubber sex dolls in town at the local sex shops were once widowed girls, abducted in the dead of night and…while still alive… embalmed by means of permanent plasticization.  Some clever doctor had supposedly found a way to keep their conscious brains intact, while the rest of their body become “Grade A” rubber sex doll.

Or there was that infamous hallway in the Cherish Valley men’s club that was lined with live, female heads poking out from holes on each side.  Girls forced to kneel down behind the wall, bound at the arms, and stick their pretty heads through a hole, thus leaving their faces and open mouths subject to whatever horny man just happened to be walking down this particular hallway, in the mood for a quick dick sucking.  So naturally, the girls taken for this particular purpose were all given further enhancements to their lips and mouths.  After all, their new purpose in live was to suck cock.  Literally.

There was even the story of the older woman at the beginning of the hallway.  The blonde with the sad eyes who’s pretty head sat below a cheap knock-off a Monet painting.  Once the young wife of a man who was tragically killed in Cherish so many years back when he choked on a spare rib, the wife was taken by a man who owed the owner of the men’s club a favor.  She was only twenty two when they first put her head through the wall.  Now, at the age of forty one, she had spent the past 19 years as a human blowjob machine.  From 8am to 11pm, her head was locked into that dreadful hole while her stomach was filled with the seed of whatever man happened to be passing.  Before being allowed to sleep each night, her stomach would be pumped of all the sperm and piss she’d swallow each day as a sexually “oral wall ornament”.  She’d get her massages, her exercises to reduce atrophy to the muscles, a quick night of rest and then the whole ordeal would begin again the next morning… day after day… year of year.  They say her sanity was lost maybe four years in, leaving her mush-mind as a practical tool based around instinct… primarily, how best to please the cock in her mouth.

Luckily for Cupcake, Richard Wentmore had friends in high places.  Cupcake wouldn’t end up on the auction block and she wouldn’t have her head stuck through any hole in some hallway.

One night, she was sleeping in a padded room of the Cherish Valley Detainee Center.  The next, they were signing her life away to Richard.  He had acquired his newest Barbie Doll.  A baby sister for Penelope.  A new daughter for his wife, Miranda  But most importantly, a new plaything for him.  Daddy’s little girl.


The following morning, Cupcake was awakened by the soft jingle of little bells.  Opening her big blue eyes, she was staring up at a plastic mobile, a baby’s toy which floated playfully over her head, almost hypnotizing her.  On all sides of her were the pink, furnished bars of a prison. A baby’s crib.

Under and around her were dolls and little teddy bears.  Attempting to sit up, Cupcake realized her arms were bound as if she were wearing some sort of pink, ruffled straight jacket.


In her mouth seemed to be an over-sized pacifier she couldn’t dislodge with her tongue.  The end that protracted outside her mouth appeared as a normal baby dummy, with a pink, plastic plate, shaped into a heart.  But inside, Cupcake could feel a large, penis-shaped teat touching both the top and bottom of her gums and extending close to the back of her throat, so that she had to concentrate not to begin gagging on it.  And really, that’s what it was, a pacifier gag… an inflated dildo teat, way more effective than any ball gag she had ever been fitted with did.

Instinctively sucking on the binky, Cupcake peered down at the rest of her body.  There was something wrong with her chest.  It didn’t feel as heavy as it once was.  Gone was the pressure her E sized tits had always caused her… because her E sized tits were no more.  Although Cupcake couldn’t be sure, she was sure her tits must now be the size of little apples, for the chest area of her pink nighty straight jacket was near flat.  Reacting to this, Cupcake took in the puffy, wide mid-section of her waist… and the horrid smell emanating from that area.

Sloshing around down in the nooks and crannies of her crotch, cunt and ass was a messy load of smelly pudding.  Cupcake had been made to mess herself in the past, but had never awoken to it, accidentally.  And it had never been this liquefied either.  How could this have happened?  Was she drugged with some sort of laxative?

Cupcake had also obviously been in diapers before, but none as obtrusive as this.  She felt she’d probably have to waddle or crawl just to get around in them.  They were covered by pink rumba shorts, plastic-coated with more little bells at each hip.  From below this rotund area of her body, her longs legs emerged from the diapers, sheathed in bubble-gum pink stockings.  They ended in a pair of bootied footsies, the kind of which a three year old would wear in her sleep suit.

Feeling a little claustrophobic in her pink prison, Cupcake began to squirm in her bonds, “mphhhing” into her binky gag.  If Cupcake could step back and look at herself, she’d see a teenaged girl with strawberry vanilla curls, topped by a large pink bow… a face made up with pink rouge on her cheeks and elongated lashes, which further gave her that doll look.  A body meshed in pink ruffles and lace.

Entering the room, this is exactly what Miranda Wentmore, wife of Richard Wentmore, and nanny and mother of the household, saw as she approached Cupcake’s crib and peered at the squirming little girl inside.  A porcelain white face, arched eye brows over warm eyes, with cherry red lipstick surrounding a toothy smile, fit for promoting Apple Pie in some bygone 1950’s era, Miranda Wentmore was an old fashioned woman given the old fashioned treatment at Cherish Med.  This meant, she was surgically enhanced to be a mommy, a wet nurse, and most importantly, an obedient wife.

With a smart pair of pumps on her feet, Mrs. Richard Wentmore was adorned in a powder blue dress with big round buttons stretching from her collar down to her waist.  A puffy white apron was tied around the dress with a flamboyant bow over her impressive rear.  With her bee-hive hair-do and pert ways, Miranda was a modern day June Cleaver.  Although her height added a deception to the picture, revealing a little of the strength of the woman… Brigitte Neilson in an apron.

For a few minutes, Miranda just smiled down at Cupcake, those gooey red lips almost shining.  Cupcake, perhaps unnerved by this strange woman in her archaic get-up, grew more blush by the minute under her gaze.  Her eyes held a warmth, but also concealed a sternness that lingered near the surface.  Miranda’s smile grew somehow wider, more teeth, candy apple red lips stretching that creamy Swiss cheese face as she observed the cute little line of drool that were already collecting on Cupcake’s adorable little chin.

“Rise and shine, little one.  I see baby’s excited to begin her day?” chimed Miranda in a chirpy, sing-song voice.  A voice was like Mary Poppins, minus the accent.

“Mmpppphhhh!” replied Cupcake, confused and growing slightly upset over her predicament.

Miranda could see how her darling husband and master, Richard, had fell in love with this lovely little toy.  Cupcake had that chameleon ability to become whatever you desired her to become.  From some teenage bimbo Melvin had paraded around the local mall in tight, tacky Tshirts, to a French Maid serving elegant plates of food at one of his dinner parties, to a simpering baby doll, drooling on her dummy gag as she squirmed around in her own filfth, in a pink, oversized crib.

Realizing she wasn’t going anywhere, Cupcake finally stopped squirming and held the gaze of the 1950’s woman leaning over her.

“Well hello there, little one?”  Miranda sniffed the air playfully.  “Uh oh.  Smells like someone made a messy wessy in their dipey wipey.”  She then lifted a dainty finger under the hem of Cupcake’s frilly straight-jacket.

Cupcake had never been so embarrassed in her life.  The woman now sounded like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

But it was then that the shift in tone happened.  Those warm Betty Crocker eyes became cold just as those arched, pencil thin eye brows became a stern frown.

“Tut tut.  I see someone made a little stinky poo in their beddy bye.” chided Miranda, peeking at Cupcake’s diaper area.


“Ohh, hush now.  Now Mummy’s gotta show babykins what happens to dirty wittle girls, doesn’t she.”

And with that, Miranda unlocked the top of the crib and swept in, lifting Cupcake up and out with ease from the pile of dollies and teddy bears.  Cupcake marveled at the woman’s strength, feeling like a an oversized doll in the woman’s capable hands.

Carrying Cupcake over to a large, pink, Victorian bed with a canopy, she sat her down over her lap.  And as Cupcake’s diapered tushy met with Miranda’s powder blue thighs, the soupy mess in her crotch ground into every corner and crevice that was down there.  Perhaps that was the point.

But what happened next was even worse.

“Mommy needs to show baby Cupcake what happens to naughty, stinky wittle girls.”

Cupcake was spun around and thrown, chest first, over each leg of Miranda’s lap.  Lifting the dainty hem of her nighty, Miranda rubbed the smelly mess in further with a careful palm.

Cupcake was appalled.  She gagged into her pacifier, coughing at the horrible stench… that horrible sensation of that goopy, wet mess plastering itself to her creamy white ass.

She was confused.  Where was her real Daddy?  Her Master?  Where was Melvin?  What was she doing here?  Her few days in the detainee center had been a blur.  She was drugged up most of the time, taunted by the guards.  A few of them might have even taken turns with her mouth while she lay strapped down, dumping their cock snot down her throat.  One of them mumbling about her “old man” and his “tumble down the steps.”  But it was all too sudden to grasp.  And even if Cupcake’s feeble mind could get a hold of any conspiracy… that’s when her first “Miranda spanking” began.


Cupcake had never felt anything like it.  A guided, professional hand… stronger and more painful than any whip or cane ever wielded by Melvin.  Like thin, sharp wood.

With precision, the assault continued…


…the whole time grinding that smelly, soupy mess further in.  The whole time, that woman’s kind, caring voice, with that strangely soothing, but ominous tone.

“Good little girls don’t sleep in filth unless their mummies punish them.  What if you had stained your pretty pink nighty?  Then where would you be?  Huh?  Huh, missy??”

Cupcake was crying now.  Hard.  Bawling like the little girl they were trying to turn her into.  Her pink stocking legs kicked up and down.  She screamed, begged into her gag.  Her only site, the pink fluffy carpet of the room and the long line of drool that dripped from her mouth and stretched down to the floor like a spider web.

Just when she thought she may pass out, the woman suddenly ceased.  In a moment, she was lifted back up, turned to face her tormentor, the heart-shaped plate of the pacifier was turned counter clockwise until she heard a “hissing” noise and the over-sized teat in her mouth deflated somehow and was then removed with a wet “sblush” noise.

As Cupcake exercised the strain from her mouth, Miranda fixed her curls, prettying them up again.  Then, pinching her hard on both cheeks, she leaned and said in that same playful tone, “And what do we say now, munchkin?”

“Thank you…” stuttered Cupcake, choking tears.

“Thank you Mummy.” corrected Miranda.

Hesitation, and then…

“Thank you, Mummy.” said Cupcake.

“Good girl.”  said Miranda, patting her on the head like she was some puppy.  “Now, let’s get you bathed for Daddy Dick.”

Daddy who?

But Miranda now firmly had her by the hand and was leading her through the pink nursery that must be her new room and into a pink tiled bathroom.  Crossing over to an old, porcelain style tub, Miranda turned on the water, making it hot.  She then poured in some powder under the faucet.

Cupcake stood by the door, trying desperately to ignore the splattered shitty mess painting her butt cheeks.

“Come,” signaled Miranda with a clap, and Cupcake was eye to eye with the woman again as she patiently began taking her clothes off.  Cupcake was stripped down to her soiled diaper.

She found her arms were so numb she could barely lift them.  Was this some muscle relaxant they had injected her with?  Or were her arms just zapped of all strength from sleeping in the straight jacket?  What concerned her more were her new tits.  Although it would be a far stretch to call the two small mounds on her chest, with their pointy nipples, “tits”, standing up with them felt like putting sneakers on after wearing heavy Astronaut boots all day.  Cupcake raised a hand to finger them, when Miranda, with lightening fast speed, slapped it away.

“No.  Bad, bad, bad!  Little girls don’t do that sort of thing.”

Head down.  “Yes, Mummy.”

Miranda smiled.  The girl was catching on fast.  Maybe she wasn’t so stupid after all.

Stripping her down to her diaper, the stink of the fecal mess hit the room full force.  Miranda immediately made a “stinky face” and, tapping Cupcake on the nose said, “Tut tut.  Such a dirty wittle girl.  She should be ashamed of herself.”

Cupcake couldn’t get over the size and height of this woman.  Despite her attire, she could be truly menacing.  But she had that condescending baby talk down to a science.

“Baby Cupcake must learn not to mess her diapy-wipey.”  Continuing to chide her like she was a three year old.

Cupcake wanted to protest and say it wasn’t her fault.  That she couldn’t even remember doing it, but couldn’t risk another spanking.  Hell, even a tap of the finger on those stinging cheeks right now would be more than she could stand.

Unfastening her diaper, Miranda lifted the messy white thing out from under her two legs.  She then held it up to Cupcake, showing her what a dirty girl she was.

“See what a messy little girl Cupcake is?”

Just when Cupcake thought she couldn’t stand any more and was about to shake her pretty blonde head No, Miranda dipped a manicured pink nail into the center of the brown mess and came away with a chunk of stinky ass mud.  She then playfully dabbed Cupcake’s button nose with it, giggling all the way.

Cupcake went to pull back, but Miranda had one of those iron hands at her back.  Now, all Cupcake could smell was that horrid stench.  Looking down cross-eyed, Cupcake could only see brown. Shaking her blonde, corkscrew curls back and forth, she tried desperately to shake the goop of waste off her nose, but it remained.

Miranda then spun her around and, with a baby wipe, set to cleaning her stinky crotch up.  A few minutes later, and Cupcake was being lifted like a little girl into the hot water of the tub.  Pouring powder in, the bath soon filled with bubbles, and Cupcake was taken with a certain sensation: despite the messy diapers, the chiding tone of Miranda, and even the dab of shit on her nose, Cupcake felt something – something she had never felt with Melvin.

Here she was, a 19 year old girl, being made to sit in a warm bubble bath, a rubber ducky at her side, and a woman scrubbing her back, shampooing her hair, even brushing her teeth for her with an electric Barbie toothbrush.

And Cupcake felt… cared for.  Maybe even loved somehow.

She even blushed when Miranda, her new nanny, snuck one of those long pink nails of hers under the bubbles, in-between her crotch, and then begin tickling her little love button.  The warmth of the water, the smell of shit on her nose, this Betty Crocker woman in her powder blue nanny dress… and Cupcake’s juices began to flow.  Her hairless cunny snatch, hot to the touch, aching for release.

Miranda smiled, her cherry red lips curling around perfect teeth.  She leaned in, wet red lips right against Cupcake’s right ear, nibbling on the lobe, as she said, “Does babykins like this?” That manicured nail tickling her clitty, rubbing over flesh and nether lips.  Moving in rhythm now, igniting her deep from within.  Rubbing it so perfectly… the right speed, the right pressure… something Melvin couldn’t ever get right even if he cared to attempt it.

Stirring her honey pot, moving past the folds of her cunt, a pinky finger probing into her canal as her rosebud of a clit was tweaked by index and thumb, like some rare flower coming to life in the palm of a hand. Cupcake’s juices were flowing.  She was so hot.  Something was welling up so deep inside her, like a damn about to burst.  A damn filled with sweet pink pussy juice.

That rubbing.  Her clitty so hot.  Buzzing like a fast heart beat after a race… only this beating was in the folds of her steaming cunt.

Cupcake was on the edge now, and that’s when her nanny leaned in again and planted a wet, slurping kiss on Cupcake’s pink, cock-sucker lips… lips still dripping with minty Barbie toothpaste.  And when the woman’s snaking tongue pushed itself past Cupcake’s dentures and probed the inside of her hungry mouth, Cupcake spasmed.  The damn broke. Juices flowed freely into the hot water of the tub.

She arched her back.  She moaned into the woman’s mouth.  The mouth of a professional.

The mouth of her Mummy.


About thirty minutes later and the morning process was complete.  Cupcake had been changed, freshened up, brought to climax like never before, and then re-diapered.  What followed next was a make-up session before her Barbie model vanity table.  Soft pinks, elongated eye lashes, and plenty of coats of wet gloss on her lips, and Cupcake was shocked at how much of a little girl she now resembled.

But there was more.  Standing in nothing but a diaper, Cupcake was led over to a long wall where Miranda slid a door aside, revealing a closet the length of the bed.  Dozens upon dozens of party frocks, flower dresses, nightys and more draped from the row of hangers.  The floor was littered by a long line of Mary Jane shoes, some in plastic, most in patent leather, every color accompanied for to match the many pastel colors, fabrics and designs of the dresses.

3 thoughts on “Becoming Cupcake: Parts 4-7

  1. Just got to read this. I agree with your previous assessment that the story gets a bit less interesting in the later parts. But I still enjoyed it overall. Thanks for putting up the other parts for me.


      • I’m doing well considering the state of the world. I hope the same can be said for you and that this time is allowing you to persue your writing.

        I appreciate you cooking up something closer to my tastes. I can’t wait to see what it might be. Hopefully you have found the rubber/latex again :p


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