 |
|||
|
|
----------------------------
The Exposition of Modified Women, Part 6 - People-Watching
by Benfan
Leaving Salam's tent Mark found the brief smoke had left him a bit dry in the mouth. He thought about ducking back under the tent flap to take advantage of its hospitality but just then saw a vendette moving towards him.
Identified in the bustling crowd by a red headband with a bottle icon at her forehead, the auburn-haired vendette tiptoed down the lane in black ballet boots. A deep tray filled with bottles and cans hung from the wide leather belt that pinched her waist. The tray was prevented from tipping forward and spilling its contents by a pair of shiny steel chains that linked its front corners to stout rings through the vendette's nipples.
The weight of the ice-filled tray pulled her D-cup tits out and down into pointed cones. No doubt she would have preferred to use her hands to bear this burden but these were bound behind her back, pulled up high between her shoulder blades by a short chain linked to her rigid black posture collar. The arm restriction forced the vendette to swivel her hips as she walked, which in turn made the tray swing back and forth and tug at her stretched pink buds.
Mark beckoned and the vendette adjusted her course to meet him. Looking down into her tray he saw a variety of soft drinks, bottled water, and iced coffee. Not exactly what he craved. Groping between her elongated knockers he found one last bottle of beer in the back of the tray. The vendette flinched slightly as he drew it out, and the frozen metal cap scraped along her angular cleavage.
The bottle was dripping from its icy bath, so Mark wiped it on the wavy auburn tresses that descended behind the female's back and hid her bound hands. Then he raised it to her lips, where a bottle opener was built into the prod-gag that filled her mouth. Her red curls bounced as the cap popped free and fell neatly into the hollow gag, and with a pat on her bottom Mark sent the vendette on her way again. As she departed a small bucket of empty recycleables that hung from her arm-bondage bounced tinnily against her wobbling butt.
Besides the exhibit booths there were plenty of sights to see out in the lanes and alleys of the Expo. Many attendees brought their modified slaves with them to the show, and were as much interested in parading them about as in exploring the "official" displays. Mark stood at the edge of the thoroughfare for a while, sipping his drink and just watching people go by.
He saw a casually dressed young man swaggering down the lane, trailed by a fancy blonde bimbo-doll all done up in frilly lingerie. Hair piled high in a mass of golden curls bedecked with pink ribbons, she tottered unsteadily on pink ballet pumps as she tried to keep up with her master. Her figure was hourglassed by a tight bodyshaper in antique white satin that extended from just above the knee all the way up her back, drawing her shoulders together and forcing her round boobs forward. The upper front of the heavily boned garment was cut away and edged in ruffles of taffeta, framing her fair-skinned chest in dreamy gauze. The twin spheres of her phony spherical tits - F cups at least, Mark judged - were pushed upwards by demi-cups built into the corset, which allowed the tops of her rosy nipples to peek out.
The lower part of the bodyshaper hugged the girl's thighs, partially hobbling her; this lower extension of the reinforced satin sheath was adorned with tiers of fluffy gauze that made her trim figure look bottom-heavy. Her smooth, white asscheeks poked out through a heart-shaped cutaway in her corset that was edged in taffeta, like the breast-window. A two inch wide pink collar, edged with stiff white frills, encouraged the blonde to keep her face forward and chin up.
Her bare white arms were unbound, but dangled from her shoulders as though lifeless. The girl's hands, rendered fingerless by frilly, padded mittens, bounced ungoverned against her flaring hips as she moved unsteadily forward on the towering heels. Below bright blue eyes and button nose her plump, pink-glossed lips were spread wide by a ring gag held in place by a pink strap across her cheeks.
The gag and the uselessness of her hands left the blushing blonde helpless to control her drool, which trailed downwards from her lower lip in a thick gooey string. But her master had thoughtfully propped a plastic cup in his lacy doll's cleavage to catch the dribble, and spare her the embarrassment of mussing her fancy lingerie.
The blushing blonde projected a delightful impression of unfettered helplessness, and Mark wondered if the girl's arms had been numbed for her trip to the Expo or if they were permanently paralyzed.
Heading in the opposite direction a goateed, leather-clad male walked beside a unique slave whose figure were remarkable, even for the Expo. Her legs were encased in stiff black thigh-high boots, with needle-pointed toes and no heels at all. This impossible footwear forced the female to bend forward at the waist and lean on her arms, which were sheathed in leather sleeves that held her elbows locked straight. Her big brown eyes looked down past her plug-gag toward the floor, avoiding the stares of the many passersby who gawked at her unnatural proportions. A brown ponytail sprang from the back of her head and dangled to one side of her neck. The girl's hands grasped the rim of a large, low-walled tub that rolled on a quartet of swiveling wheels, which bore the weight of her elephantine tits.
From their roots at her chest they flared rapidly outwards, mountains of milk-white flesh that filled the three foot wide tub to overflowing and bulged out against the girl's braced arms. As the wheels of the cart skittered across uneven spots in the pavement the twin mounds rippled and shimmied. Her nipples, which if proportional would have been the size of pie plates, were hidden in the bottom of the tub.
Making a guess at their volume Mark figured that each humongous, blue-veined boob must weigh well over a hundred pounds. Since the rest of the girl's body was normally proportioned, even bordering on petite, that meant that over two thirds of her body weight was tit-meat. Nevermind the heel-less boots: even in a pair of sturdy hikers and supported by a steel bra it was unlikely she could have stood upright, since to straighten her back would have required a dead lift of perhaps three hundred pounds. Without the aid of the wheeled tub the unfortunate female would have had to drag her soft burdens along the ground or, more likely, be confined by their sheer mass to her master's bed.
Mark was imagining what she'd look like, on her back with the pale mounds sprawled to either side, when his attention was caught by colorful flags fluttering down the lane.
The flags sprang from the head harness of a walking female billboard. This bald slave's gloved wrists were linked to rings at the sides of her wide leather collar, her elbows cuffed to a bar behind her shoulders that held her bent arms up and out. Rings at the front of the elbow cuffs were linked to D-rings pierced vertically through her nipples, stretching her big tits to either side and turning her cleavage into a broad canvas of fair, unblemished skin. Here was written in bold black letters:
Welcome to the Expo!
and below it, much smaller:
This space for rent.
A J-shaped tube emerged downwards from her bottom, then curved to ascend between her round asscheeks and behind her back until it met a bracket that sprang from the rear of her head harness. This arrangement pulled her spine into an arch, ensuring that her breast-message was clearly displayed. Behind the female's back a bulletin board was mounted to the tube. Mark stepped in front of the ballgagged billboard, stopping her, and motioned for her to pivot on her high-heeled pumps so that he could read the posted messages.
There were notes from one Expo-goer to another, suggesting times and places to meet. There was a note about a lost oral appliance, which had been custom made and would hopefully be found and returned. And there was a schedule of Expo events. Scrolling his eyes across it Mark noted the times of several demonstrations he'd like to catch: one by the binders at the House of Chan, another at the Piercing Pavilion.
At one corner of the schedule his eyes were drawn to the name of a well-known Japanese film star - it was unusual to see females identified by name at the Expo. The item stated that she would be performing throughout the Expo before a live audience while making her first and - somewhat ominously - last S&M film. Curious, Mark made a note to make sure he checked that out.
At last he found the item in which he was most interested: the Pony Parade. At past Expos, which had often been held outdoors, there had usually been a race. But from what he'd heard space limitations at this venue had necessitated a speed limit for the various girl-powered carts and conveyances.
The parade was a daily event; the first was coming up in a couple of hours. Mark liked to arrive at the paddock early to watch the harnessing and other preparations, so he decided to start moving in that direction. But first he needed to relieve the growing pressure in his bladder, which was fed by the bourbons and coffee and, most recently, beer in which he'd indulged.
The film production company that had assembled the Expo in this previously abandoned industrial space had brought in portable toilets, but Mark preferred the more unique options he knew would be available in certain of the exhibit booths. Looking down an alley he spotted the whimsically limned sign of an exhibitor he knew from previous events. In silver letters formed from leaky pipes and valves it spelled out:
Pipe Dreams.
Finishing his beer Mark looked for a proper place to dispose of the empty bottle. The vendette was nowhere in sight but the upturned ass of the sweeper was scuttling toward him again. Another visitor had already made use of her shaved pussy to deposit one empty, but Mark knew she had room for at least one more. He stopped the sweeper with a touch to her forward-facing tailbone, and licked the rim of his beer bottle for lubrication before pushing its long neck firmly into her tight brown asshole.
Sending the busy and now well-filled cleaner on her random path again with a smack of his hand, Mark turned and headed for the plumber's shop.
[...]
|
|
|