Kat’s Journal

Jack thrust deep into her and came. Something clicked in Kat and she found herself simultaneously orgasming. They lay there panting then jack pulled out and cum dribbled from her over sensitive snatch. “Come on then. I’m taking you home...” Jack said as he dressed.

Kat nodded. She sat in the car, cum drying on her inner thighs. Naked. This was her life now.

“When we get home I’d like you to write your thoughts down for me.” He said.

Kat nodded dutifully. It would be a week later when she would have enough to write.

***

Journal Entry 1

It's humiliating to relate but I'm dictating this account of how I ended up a sex starved pet - just as you've instructed me too.

I... I'm still a little conflicted. I like - no love being Kat - but a small part of me, my residual male ego I guess, knows that this is not right, that I should resist and try and escape my fate. The truth is that I never really fought. I submissively accepted this role. I was a willing accomplice in my downfall. In retrospect I didn't do anything to prevent it.

It's humiliating that I have been so readily divested of all the trappings of my former masculinity and so quickly became the soft, servile and ultra feminine Kat in not just body but in mind.

I could blame the overriding urges and strictures of Kat’s programming... But I just don't know. I don't know where I end and where Kat starts. How much volition did I have in all this? I wouldn't have chosen this role, but now that I find myself in it I relish it.

The lack of power. Your complete control and dominance of me. Damn you.

Sorry. It's hard to deal with sometimes. I spoke rashly. I didn't mean that.

It's also humiliating as most people won't see me as anything but a simple Doll - your risqué and slightly scandalous property. If they really knew who and what I was they'll pay me more attention and look at me in an entirely new light. I don't want them too scrutinise or judge me... Or maybe I do. Maybe I want them to know. I find the thought a perverse turn on. It's confusing, but I get turned on by being humiliated. Which is humiliating in itself. A vicious circle of arousal?

So I'm dictating. Dick taking? God I'm a dirty slut now. I can barely go a sentence before I start thinking of sex. I see innuendo in everything. In my end oh!

What's really funny is that I can't read now. The words this machine churns are all just so much incomprehensible gibberish. But I can stop and the machine can read back what I've said. Sadly before all this I was very bright. Now though... Not so much. At least I can still talk the same as before.

I assume you find this amusing for your own reasons. You enjoy seeing me like this. I can see it in your eyes.

You said you'd give this journal to Hillary, my former girlfriend and your secretary, because she wouldn't believe it if you just told her what I did to myself. Were you joking? Were you playing on my insecurities? Or is this the next step in my humiliating emasculation, chipping away at the lingering vestiges of my former self? Having my former lover see me as this weak little simpering slut that just cooks and cleans and fucks without complaint?

I... I don't want you too. But I do. Damn that vicious circle. She's taller than me now. Stronger. More self assured. I feel so below her, and before I used to enjoy belittling her. If she wanted too she could boss me around and dominate me. I'd enjoy that. It would lend an additional dimension to me dressing up in that skimpy little French maids costume and cleaning her house. Her knowing just how far I'd fallen. The sexual fantasies I entertain when I see her become much more psychological and convoluted when I imagine her knowing. It makes me wet. Please. Consider it...

But I'm moving off topic. You have told me to record this account and ... if you give it to her then she may believe. I suspect she'd find my fate amusing too. She mainly ignores me, treats me as less than human. I ...

So... after our swap and our first time having sex you took me home and told me to keep a journal. Where to start?

Having your personality uploaded into a new body is rather ****. I can scarcely explain it. Think the worst fun ride ever, spinning, dizzying colours, senses askew ... Then multiply it by a billion.

But once you are in the new mind... That's the real kicker. A very crude analogy is moving house. Normally all your furniture and stuff goes with you. Some of it fits perfectly, matching the decor and seemingly always there. Some just doesn't seem to belong.

In the case of Kat though I was moving into a much smaller place... And it was already fully furnished - like a teeny serviced apartment made for barbie. So almost all of my mental stuff stayed in my original house. Just me and my travel pack. Me lite. Bad analogy.

The constraints of Kat’s mind and thought processes were pretty much what I'd expected... my company furnished it and I knew it intimately after all. I was just checking to make sure it all functioned properly. Kat was an artificial organic - a vat grown doll companion, her hormones and physical sensitivity tweaked. And I'd given her her own limited aspect on life.

I figured I knew what I was getting into, that I knew exactly what constraints would be applied to me. My math and business skills were gone. My reasoning also hindered. Before the transfer I had an MBA from Melbourne University and a PHD in Applied Gynoid Development. Now I had access to a suite if skills suited to this form. Cleaning. Sex. Conversation.

I felt so...dumb. My language skills were intact at least. Some people liked bimbonic gynoids. Personally I preferred that to be an option. As you know you can command me to talk like a bimbo.

The next morning I awoke found myself naked and came to my hands and knees, lovely breasts hanging down off my chest. I swayed my shoulders and watched my pretty breasts jiggle. I rolled my hips.

As I stared down at my beautiful sexy body I felt perfectly natural like this - even though my body was completely alien. I was lighter, weaker, smaller, shorter and curvier. And I found it quite novel that I had breasts. Lovely little breasts with sensitive nipples that I wanted to play with.

I wanted to give into the urge, still on my knees and one hand. I wanted to touch one hanging breast then the other. I breathed in, imagining the pleasure. But i just couldn't . Not until you allowed me. For now I was a creature of unsatisfied appetites in this body. Itches I was unable to scratch. I knew my breasts were so sensitive and erotic. The thought of fondling them made my nipples tingle and grow erect.

I lowered my upper torso to the ground, ass high as I enfolded my breasts with an arm. I wanted to tweak a fat nipple. In response to my thoughts I felt a pleasant tingle between my legs. I rocked slowly, focusing on the pleasant buzz.

"My pussy," I whispered as I imagined my other hand edging down to tease and tweak my new sex. I moaned as I imagined exploring the sensitive warm and quite moist folds with my eager little fingers. Labial lips. Clit. Hood. Lubricating with pent up need.

I wanted to tease myself, imagining you taking me, hands possessively on my hips, manhood again at my lips and slipping into me, pulling me to you as you buried youself deep inside my tight sex. I groaned and arched my back, rocking, eyes closed as the sensual thoughts filled my mind to overflowing.

Kat was a carnal creature. She was made to enjoy sex. I was Kat and I could agree that the idea of sex was very pleasing. But it was denied me. I should have been glad that I was alone and unable to sate my lust, but instead was very disappointed and frustrated. I'd expected this - I'd known Kat was a sex starved little slut - but I'd not anticipated the surge of petulant irritation against my former self for denying me.

Kat - no I wanted my master. Someone for me to serve. I wanted to be owned. I wanted you to make love to me and control me - tell me what to do in bed, what I could wear, what I could and could not do. Take me. My imaginings were a sorry second for what I truly wanted.

Well that was what Kat wanted. She was a submissive little girl - and I was her now I reminded myself. Perhaps I could escape?

But no. You - my former self had disabled the phones and the internet and locked me in. You'd decided that it wouldn't do to for me to escape. I was yours. It was such a seductively pleasing thought, but not something my former self would have wanted. I resented you for it. Fuck it made me horny.

"What good is my sexy body if no one can enjoy it, not even me?" I grumbled petulantly as I longed to play with my moistening sex. This was no fun.

I so badly wanted to slip a finger into my pussy and slowly finger fuck myself. Serving would be so good. On my knees. I wanted to bring myself to another shuddering female orgasm with thoughts of being trapped as a servile little slut, fucked with unrelenting dominance by my master. My little pussy would clench and became sopping wet, my little nipples grown fat with excitement, little gasps and cries filling the air.

I closed my eyes and groaned. Kat was a perfectly submissive sex starved nympho. Just as she was intended. I wished I could swap back...

I went downstairs to the kitchen and made breakfast, still naked. You’d told me.

Then the door opened. "Tom?!" I gasped as I stared at the general manager of my company.

"Yes. Hi Kat. I've heard about you. Your owner told me all about you girl."

I nodded as I looked up at you, conscious of my nudity. "Tom?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Where is Jack... your master?" Tom asked, ignoring my question and smiled. Did he know? Did you suspect?

"I... out I think.” I responded.