Steaming layers of sweat lathered over her bare skin, soaking her in a rich perfumed stench. Journey Chase hanged limply by a series of binding restraints, keeping her suspended in midair, and pinning her in a forward position. Her belly was swollen and ready to burst, and her naked breasts were already filled to the aching brim with milk. Mechanisms surrounding her were busy siphoning her sustenance by the gallon, while her lower lips were soaked with lustful fluids. 

      Her body barely resembled the spritely lean and pale skinned Comfort Liaison that had journeyed to the world of Sinmore some two decades ago. Journey Chase was now the pinnacle of feminine beauty, at least according to her mistress, with multiple pairs of breasts grown down the length of her torso, and a womanly sprout in place of a clitoris.

      The phallus between her legs was layered in massage rings, designed to deliver a shock at random intervals, while the very tip was being suckled dry like her nipples. Her mammaries were in overdrive, having tripled their normal production with a child on the way. Long blonde hair carpeted her vision like a curtain before her eyes, all the while, sweat continued to drip down her voluptuous curves.

      It was under such extreme conditions that her water eventually broke, bringing with it an entirely new sense of mind washing pleasure. Pain no longer translated as anything even remotely resembling discomfort, instead it lit up her synapses with carnal sensations. Her mind was broken, and her body was reduced too little more than that of a breeding slave. It was her penance for disappointing the mistress. 

      Pulsating red lights beamed overhead, and the digital noise of active vital monitors echoed from behind her. While Journey’s vision remained hazy, she could make out the outline of a strikingly tall woman entering the room. The newcomers footsteps seemed to match the yoking of the breast pumps attached to her giving nipples.

      “I see you’re enjoying your punishment,” Esta Stonewall, a grim dictating specter of a woman with enhanced physiology, spoke with a cruel tone. Her sharp eyes glared at Journey’s naked body, admiring the many alterations performed by her own masterful hands. 

      As an infamous flesh-wright, Esta was especially fond of altering the human genome, treating every one of her subjects as an artist would a mould of clay. At first she ironed many of the abnormalities in Journey’s mangled DNA, and after coming to admire the woman’s tenacity, Esta had given the former Comfort Liaison several improvements. It was her doing, her skills as a flesh-wright, that saved Journey’s mind from complete collapse. It was also her doing that Journey now had a body like this. 

      Now that she had seemingly betrayed her master, that sanity was being drained like the very sustenance in her many breasts. 

      “I gave you a simple order, to come home when called, and you disobeyed. Now, pretty little Journey, you’ll suffer exquisitely.” Esta jammed her fingers between Journey’s legs, plunging her digits into her slick fertile lips, and rubbed against her juicy pulsating folds. Forcing Journey to climax was simple enough, and watching her erupt into a series of squealing orgasms brought a smile to Esta’s lips. By that point, Esta had done enough work massaging Journey’s inner walls, that she could practically fit her entire hand inside.

      Journey’s legs wouldn’t stop shaking as she felt a surge of pressure beginning to pound the bottom of her uterus. She could feel her heart pounding beneath her breast as her darkened areola’s stiffened under duress. The first series of birthing pangs already started, and they would quickly escalate. Her pearly spear was fully erect, twitching and throbbing in pain as the series of rings tightened around her sensitive flesh.

      Esta’s mutated body was similarly stacked with three lets of firm bosoms. The top set were plumb, while the lower tiers were smaller in girth. They ran up the length of her sinewy torso, and had grown alongside her fearsome abominable muscles. Only the most reputable slaves were remade, or remolded, in her own image, which was why Esta was particularly upset with Journey’s sudden act of rebellion.

      “Mistress,” Journey’s voice was thick with drool. The surge of libido, serotonin, dopamine and other chemicals swimming in her brain was enough to coat her vision with stars. The phallus between her legs, grown from what used to be her clitoris, was being milked for seed without mercy. Her ejaculations were jerked so frequently, and rapidly, that the collection of spurts appeared more like a stream. The cock rings made it so each climax was like a jolt of lightning running through her groin.

      “At least you sowed your wild oats like I asked.” Esta grinned at the thought, “All over the Silent Marches, and beyond.” 

      Reports had slowly trickled in over the decades of Journey’s escapades, including the uncountable number of children she sired. That phallus of hers had done its job, her fertile semen laid the groundwork for an entire new generation of colonists, many of whom had exhibited new genetic traits. So far two new sub-species of homo-sapiens had been recognized, thanks to the alterations in Journey’s genes that were inherited by her offspring, and many more may yet be found.

      Esta leaned forward, delighted in her slaves seething torment. “I’m going to boil your womb with my semen, and pump your brain full of aphrodisiacs. You’ll be a good little breeder for me from now on, compliant and obedient. From this day forth, you are my personal cum dumpster. The children you bear for me will be spectacular.”

      “Please…you’re breaking me…?” Journey’s voice was drained to a bare whisper. It was barely audible over the sounds of the mechanisms pumping her bare teats, and squeezing her shaft.

      “Please what?” Esta asked with scorn. “Go on little slave, tell me.”

      “Make it stop!” Journey summoned that last of her energy screaming the words.

      Esta laughed while firmly testing the buoyancy of one of Journey’s soft melons. Her fingers sank into the giving flesh of Journey’s top right breast, and after applying a light squeeze, it cajoled another thick spurt of milk. 

      “I see your waters finally broken.” Esta withdrew her hand from between Journey’s legs, and brought her wet fingers to her slaves mouth. “Good I’m going to knock you up as soon as your wombs free.” 

      Journey’s limbs wouldn’t stop shaking, and her shoulder muscles wouldn’t stop spasming. “It’s coming…I’m giving birth!”

      “Good, let it out.” Esta spoke while she continued to feel Journey’s skin. “I’ll make you the baby-mamma for my own little horde of genetically modified humans. Get ready it’s going to be a long night for you.”

      The mistress’s laughter echoed as all semblance of sanity was drained away from Journey’s broken mind. Her last thoughts of fancy were ones of content with the knowledge that it’ll all be over soon…especially for the mistress. After all, even if Esta Stonewall was every bit as ruthless as she was unforgiving, she was no match for Herma Ripper.