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“Well this will need to be permanent. Call it an affectation. Alexi will not object.”
Permanent!
In my shocked reaction the gibberish begins to flow from my mouth. But Ms. Powers is most correct. I in fact will not object. I cannot speak!
“Can you replicate the patterns on the video or something similar? I have a copy for you to view.”
A discussion ensues. The artist suggests outlining the black areas with a marker first. If not satisfactory, the tape can then be reviewed. Ms. Powers agrees.
“Black is almost impossible to remove, Ms. Powers. Even the laser has difficulty breaking down that color.”
A smiling Ms. Powers nods.
“She’ll be taken care of here. If not, she can always obtain movie roles.”
Both laugh with the suggestion. The artist opens her case. Ms. Powers departs. For the next hour Miss Avant Garde once again uses my naked hairless body like a canvass. This time she knows to draw within my thighs, my dangling bell mandating that my legs be constantly parted. When finished she steps back to look from afar, then has me lie supine.
“A nice split for me Alexi.”
She carefully holds the spiked bell and draws an outline around my meaty outer labia. My balls jump with her initial grasp and she laughs when I blush.
“Goodness, Alexi. You’re wet and your aroma is strong.”
Yes, it is. But there is nothing that can be done.
She releases the bell. I feel the same pleasurable movement as she again steps back to survey her work. After some touch up she leaves, apparently to summon Ms. Powers. They return together.
“The larger elliptical shapes will be filled in with black. For this one around the pudendum I have a very alluring bright red. I remember Marvin wanted that area highlighted. I can do it permanently.”
Ms. Powers nods.
“An excellent suggestion. Do it. Take your time. Cost is no object. And we have plenty of room for you to stay here.”
Chapter Thirty-five
The next morning after my cleansing and injection I am again taken to the salon for more tattooing. I remain unmilked.
Ms. Powers stops in to watch. Apparently observing my anguish as the tattoo needles of Miss Greenwich Village penetrate every imaginable area of my flesh is a source of recreation.
“Many things have been addressed since Mr. Fatipton’s death, Alexi.”
She sits before me, casually sipping coffee while I endure the hell a of hundred bee stings.
“Most importantly I had to deal with that reprobate Randy. I have long realized that the potential for a grandchild could throw quite the wrench into my planning. Though Randy’s sexual preferences do not make such an occurrence likely, I like to cover all the bases. So I did something which I was planning to do eventually.
A pause for another sip.
AI gave orders to Arthur that the next time he picked up a comatose Randy after a drug crazed night in a New York City club, he should alert the flight crew and drive him directly to the airport.
“As you can imagine the Fatipton fleet of aircraft is comprised of the fastest and longest range private jets available. So I had the flight crew on alert and three days ago before Randy awoke from his latest stupor he found himself in Mexico. Cash adds quite a bit of flexibility to the ethics of the medical profession there. It was surprisingly easy to find a doctor for Randy’s alteration.
“The flight crew was most cooperative in the endeavor. As you may have ascertained, Randy has not entirely ingratiated himself to the staff over the years. And I understand the flight attendants were most entertained, making sure that our newly feminized family member was very comfortable on the return flight. They had him wearing a set of pink silk jammies.”
The powerful Trustee laughs with the vision of Randy tucked away in the cabin of a jet curled up in effeminate night wear with the female crew feigning concern for his lost masculinity.
“So I think you’ll find that he will approach you with more respect. You may be the Fatipton cow, but he’s now the Fatipton steer.”
Ms. Powers chortles with her wry comparison.
