New Lessons

3 - Landslide

The following month was absolutely bizarre for Miranda. She woke up every morning and, strangely, she didn’t feel that weight on her shoulders that had been her companion for years as she commuted to the school. Indeed, she felt confident and strong and even… happy in a diffuse, foggy way. Whatever happened in the classroom was of no importance. Indeed, all that mattered was to float through the day and come home to her audios. She couldn’t say why, but she loved them. No, that wasn’t right. Needed them. She had tried to stop, but her body recoiled with withdrawal symptoms if she didn’t keep up her daily listening. She should have been alarmed, and in fact she had been the first time; but now she accepted her dependency on the files.

It was after a whole month that a second set of files showed up in her inbox. In other times, she would have considered them almost an insult and certainly an intrusion into her life. Now, all she could do was to put on her headphones, slide her hand between her legs and let the sounds and words wash over her. She could tell there was a different tone to these new files, a… stronger undercurrent sneaking its way inside her subconscious. Not that she could do anything to stop it. She was addicted, no more under control than any other junkie. She let her mind drift, a castle with its gate open and unbarred. She played with her cunt and mumbled, not even knowing what she was saying– which was, in a way, a blessing. If the old Miranda could see the new one, she would have been shocked. Headphones pumping information into her brain, hands playing with her pussy and breasts, mouth muttering her own downfall.

I will live for Master… Master will think for me… Master will choose for me… I’ll make myself sluttier… hornier… emptier… better… a better cunt for Master…

In normal circumstances she might have questioned who Master was, but deep down, she knew. She knew she needed to be better for Him. She knew she wasn’t good enough yet. She knew she needed to earn his attention, the blessing of his marvelous cock. That night, a new determination was born inside Miranda: to be Miranda no longer. To become someone else– something else. Something more and less at the same time. She knew Master would guide her with his audios.

The first thing was to change her wardrobe, obviously. It felt like those clothes belonged to another person, a more boring, more common, undeserving person. No, she would have to prove herself if she would ever have a chance to be used by Master. She went online and quickly discovered the usual apparel stores were… not what she was looking for. Not at all. Sure, some of the outfits were cute and sexy, but cute and sexy was a dime a dozen. She needed to set herself apart, and her quest led her to some sites she would never have considered before. Latex. She needed latex.

During the morning, she was her usual self, only stronger, more confident. Those brats couldn’t get to her. But in the back of her head she was dreaming of home, of her headphones, of the man behind the assistant principal’s office door. One day. One day she’d be worthy. She waited for her purchase doing what she was meant to do: listening to audios and playing with her tight ass. She was an anal whore, and she loved it. Why would she ever touch her pussy when edging her ass made her feel so needy and docile and didn’t make her cum?

When the first of many packages arrived, Miranda felt elated. It seemed to her that inside the discreet, large box was more than just clothing and sexy accessories: inside the box was a different life, a better version of herself– or rather, the version of herself she should always have been, but had refused to accept. Now she had to make up for lost time, so she tore the box open and immediately went to work.

Latex, Miranda discovered, was trickier to put on than she had supposed. No matter. Her determination was equal to the task. In her head she could feel Master pulling her forward, driving her much needed transformation into a better, worthier self. It took her longer than she would have liked, but she reminded herself that this was only the first time. Soon, she’d master latex like she had mastered being an anal only slut and keeping her pussy denied. She stood there, strangely entranced by the feeling of the airtight latex bodysuit. It was such a strange sensation… it hugged her tight but it was also a prison, but a welcome one, one she had chosen for herself. It reduced her to a plastic being, a doll devoid of will or freedom… and she loved it. It felt stern but gentle; it didn’t let her touch, but surrounded her with warmth. It was as if Master himself was there with her, a spirit rewarding her for her efforts. She felt better. Worthier. Still, one thing was missing. She went to the mirror and instantly tried to edge through her suit, but the latex was unyielding. No touching… even if the doll in the mirror looked so hot, so submissive and exposed, every curve accentuated and tantalizing… but her face still felt naked, still felt… wrong. Good thing she had ordered something just to fix that. But before she used that item, she would have to get her camera ready and set up. She suspected she might not be able to focus enough to operate it once the outfit was complete.

Her foresight, it turned out, had been dead on. Once the ballgag went into her mouth, her mind shut off entirely. Drool coming off the toy’s small holes, she could only sit in front of the camera, put on her headphones and mindlessly hump the air, moan and writhe for Master. Nothing else mattered, or even existed. She was an object for His pleasure, and He needed to see that, so that one day He might bless her with His presence and attention.

At some point, she must have gotten up and sent Master the video. She must have taken the latex suit off. She must have plugged herself and gone to bed. Of these things, she had no recollection; the alarm woke her up and she felt happy, energetic, ready to face the day. She didn’t shower. She wanted to bask in the lingering scent of latex while she was at the school. She also decided that, for the first time, she would work plugged.

It was that night, while reviewing the video she had sent and fingering her asshole mercilessly, that Miranda made a decision. Latex was a paradox: obscuring and revealing at once. She had been saving up for a new car. Now she knew that fund would be better spent on new breasts. Something to make her more valuable, more desirable, more plastic. A better doll.

She spun a bullshit story at school that would never had flown if not for the Assistant Principal vouching for her. Her pussy twitched when she learned the news. Master himself had approved of her transformation! She was on the right track, and when He sent her files for her recovery, she was elated. Whatever pain may come, whatever discomfort… it would be worth it.

Three weeks later, Miranda came back to work. Her change would have been impossible to hide had she even attempted to, which she hadn’t. She strolled into school with a low cut top that drew amazed looks from faculty and teenagers alike. The distance between the stern, boring Miranda and the new, big-tittied teacher was a veritable abyss. That they were the same person was a mind blowing idea, and it took most a few glances to put the pieces together. Nobody dared pulling her aside and telling her that her outfit was hardly appropriate for her profession. The men sure weren’t about to complain; other women, jealous women… that was another story. Miranda didn’t much care.

Things unraveled like a landslide. Every hour away from work was spent listening to audios, bouncing on a toy to rain her little ass, trying out slutty outfit after slutty outfit, filming video after video to show Master her progress. By the wayside fell things like grading, prepping lessons, giving a fuck about the school at all. Her usually punctual feedback on homework stopped coming. Her lessons devolved into rambling, chaotic things that jumped from topic to topic with little rhyme or reason. To be fair, she was barely mentally there during class; rather, she was dreaming of new ways to degrade herself and be a better fucktoy, or even thinking about her break in the teacher’s lounge. She had made it a bit of a game to cocktease everyone, to lean forward and watch them try (and fail) not to stare at her spectacular rack, to cross and uncross her legs and reveal to some poor young teacher that she was, in fact, going commando. Did a plug count as underwear? A matter for smarter minds than hers.

Her lowered productivity and teasing ways didn’t, sadly, come free of consequences. First came the official notice to change her behavior which she dutifully ignored. Change? When she was finally, for once in her life, enjoying herself, enjoying her body, feeling sexy and powerful and dumb and owned? Fat chance. If anything, the notice only made her dress sluttier, flirt harder, pay less and less attention to the students. It was almost a teenage rebellion a decade too late and damn it she loved every second of it. The second, harshly worded notice was in fact hand-delivered to her by the Principal. She felt such personal attention deserved special consideration, and so she broke her anal only rule to rub the letter all over her soaked cunt in front of the camera, call herself Master’s living fucking whore, lick her juices off the paper and finally shredding it to pieces. Only Master mattered, and she felt that video made the point rather well. Master rewarded her with a new set of audios.

His email also had something new. Before, all his correspondence was blank, except for the attached files. This time there was a brief note. Good girl, Holly.

Holly. Holly. That was her. That was her new self. Miranda was gone. Dead. Erased. Holly remained. Holly was a slut and a toy and always, always obeyed Master. Holly had big tits and dressed to show off. Holly was living porn, a fantasy made flesh, a latex addict and an anal whore. She put on her red latex bodysuit, gagged herself and put on the new audios. Of course, she couldn’t speak– but that didn’t keep her from mumbling and moaning. If she hadn’t put her mouth to proper use, one would have heard her breathy voice repeating the same thing over and over again for hours.

Holly. Holly. Holly. Holly…