Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Summary: Several people recount their experiences of a future pleasure palace to a journalist, who suspects that not everybody is using the unrivalled body-modification facilities for their own good. Keywords: MF, Mf, Mdom, Fdom, transformation, ScFi Part: 1 Author: Hugh Deacon Title: Investigating the Palace This is a sequel, but as the original is a published book, I can't ask you to read that first. Hopefully these bits of story stand on their own, but it may help to know that they're set in a kind of pleasure resort of the future, and that it is common in that time to modify your body just as much as you can afford. My interest is in those who have less control over how their bodies turn out ... As you might imagine, I don't advise reading any further if you're underage, nor if you're one of the many types of person who risks a shattered world-view discovering what turns some people on. All others - read, save, distribute, whatever you like as long as the file stays in this form. Investigating the Palace by Hugh Deacon Prologue A drab corridor led to a plain door, and I was guided by a plain and drab man. Inside was a stark contrast. It suited J C Brookes to act as an eccentric, masterminding his pleasure palace from within a large but crowded office that was panelled and equipped to look like a Victorian study. The man himself fitted in perfectly, clothed in a three-piece suit and with his glossy black hair extending down his cheeks. I thought at once of Byron, as no doubt I was intended to. He waved a hand towards a luxurious but rather rigid chair. "Apologies for the delay. Take a seat and I'll see if I can make it up to you. Do you need anything special in the way of equipment or recorders?" I was cautious in following his gesture. The chair was covered in leather, a material that had been banned for years now, and I wasn't sure how it would wear. It held me in an upright posture that was actually quite convenient for tapping away at my pad. I held the pad up. "I prefer the old-fashioned way." I told him. "There's something about a note of one's own impressions that doesn't come across in a full-sense recording." "Fine." he nodded briskly. "Then we can make a start. Would you like wine?" I silently blessed my alcohol-processing capabilities, which had saved me before from muddled reporting on drinkers, as he didn't wait for an answer before pressing a brass button on his desk. Within seconds a tall girl entered with two crystal glasses. It said something about the way I'd already adapted to my surroundings that her nakedness and high-class looks didn't faze me at all. Her slightly slanted eyes were cast down and her hair, black like her master's, fell in neat waves around her shoulders, the ends tickling her superb breasts. She offered a glass to Brookes who took it casually and held it between her legs, his piercing eyes watching for my reaction as a red stream jetted from her vulva. When the glass was two-thirds full, he deftly spun the edge against the smooth hairless skin of her mound and took an ostentatious sip. As the girl approached me, he answered my unspoken question. "It's quite hygienic, I assure you. We have just a very few of these dispenser-women to serve our diamond-club members, our elite. What the wine loses in perfection of temperature it more than gains in sense of occasion, we find." He paused while my own glass filled, then continued. "This one - thank you, number three, you may go - is our most recent, and we think we've mastered the modification. Her bladder is enlarged and induced to line itself with a form of organic plastic, while her own liquid wastes are diverted to a new part of the bowel, to be evacuated from there. Obviously her capacity as a decanter is limited, but she can refill easily with a hose to her navel. The biggest problem, we found, was training the girls to hold on to their cargo when 'busting to go', so to speak, and then letting it out elegantly." He turned his head to watch his slave's exit before rubbing his hands and focusing on me again. "Still, that's beside the point. I see you've been reading parts of our history. How far had you got?" I reached for the folder of papers. "Only just to the point where Dawn Cope describes the making of the first of your exotic creatures, I'm afraid." "A very interesting time." He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "Perhaps I should fill you in on that a little more. Miss Cope's memoirs are still among my favourites, even with all the others that have passed through since. But how do you plan to arrange your research? Surely you will need more than our historical records, fine as they are?" "Ideally, I'd like to speak to as many of your . . . employees . . . as possible. Their undistracted thoughts will be very enlightening, I hope." "Alone?" "Preferably." He winked in an exaggerated fashion. "Of course. I understand perfectly. Well, a good report from you is worth any amount of free samples." "That wasn't quite what I intended." "Naturally not, my boy, naturally not. I understand perfectly."