Arrested Development free porn video

Arrested Development ? by: Jennifer White "Good morning. Welcome to the first day of your new life, as a woman." Those were the words I heard as I stood at attention with two dozen other men, in the 're-education and indoctrination' camp. "From this day on, you will be women. You will walk, talk, think, feel and act as women." The woman speaking, a high ranking officer by the looks of her uniform, had no emotion in her face. The way she said this so matter-of-factly made it chilling. It was is if this was something she did regularly. "You will do exactly as we say. Any violation of the rules will result in severe punishment." She looked us all in the eyes, one by one, and moved down the line. I still didn't understand why they had put me in here. I hadn't done anything wrong. Yes, this was another country, a former Soviet Socialist Republic with strict military rule, but things had changed since the Russians left. That's why my wife accepted the two year assignment to rebuild her company's former stature here. I came along with her, hoping to learn more about the culture. The Russians had left behind museums full of treasures they had stolen over the years. "You are a girl," she said to me, and moved on. "Rule number one: Obey all orders!" We had moved here five months ago, and had just settled in. Many people were poor here, after all the years of Soviet oppression. But it was opening up, becoming a free and fair society, and was integrating in with western culture for the first time. The army still had a hand in running things, but it looked like the civilian government was doing a good job. I hadn't even seen a sign of there being secret police any more. "Rule number two: Never refer to yourself as a man, or use your former male names. You are all women now, so forget them." We had rented a modest apartment (by American standards) downtown. It was a little old and run down, but very livable. And it cost just a fraction of what it would go for back home. We could live like royalty here on her salary alone. And I hadn't even found a job yet! The market here was tough, but had been trying to network, and to meet other people in my line of work, so I could have some inside help at finding an opening. "Rule number three: Always wear your bra. Always dress like a woman." I spoke the local language fairly well because my wife had been teaching me for ten years. My grandparents came from the same area as her family. Because they used to speak it to each other when they didn't want the children to know what they were saying, it sounded so familiar to me. It came so easily for me, so in no time, I was talking with the locals well enough to get by day to day. By the end of our two years, I would be fluent. "Rule number four: You are women. Act like a one at all times." I met with dozens of people, but no luck on getting a job yet. Someone had suggested a local bar where workers relaxed after their long days. I met many people there (and drank many strong drinks!), but I still didn't get anywhere. "Rule number five: You may only engage in 'girl talk' with each other." One day at the bar, I was telling a funny story to a group of my new friends, when the secret police came in, and dragged me away. They grilled me for two days straight, not allowing me to sleep or eat. I couldn't call anyone. They said I wasn't in America, and I had no rights here. They said they could do anything they want to me. And they were right. "Rule number six: Shave your legs, chests, armpits and of course your pretty little faces." There was a 'trial' where no real evidence was presented against me. I had no lawyer. I was not allowed to testify, no family was notified, no press in attendance, no jury. Just a military judge who pronounced they sentence they had decided for me: feminization. "Rule number seven: Make no mention of your lives before today. Today is your new birthday, the day you were reborn *female*." I asked them why they were doing this. They would only tell me that since I was trying to organize the local workers to sabotage the government, I was a danger to society. They had been watching me, and knew what I was up to. Protests from just resulted in me getting hit, hard. "Rule number eight: If asked, you will respond that you are a woman." They explained that only men incited danger and violence. Women were more peaceful, and only wanted to tend to their children. They were going to make me into a woman, along with other dangerous elements of society like murders and thieves. "Rule number nine: Until you are a woman yourself, treat the women here as your superiors." He said that since the dangerous criminals were feminized, they only had to execute a few of them now, instead of hundreds per year, which they used to shoot. Once a man was turned into a woman, she became docile and was no longer a military threat. "Rule number ten: When you leave, if you are allowed to leave, make no mention of this place." She marched out, and armed guards motioned for us to move into the next room. A voice came over the loudspeaker: "Take off all of your clothes, watches, jewelry, and rings. Move to the next room." Most of us did as instructed, except one tall strong man. The guards came over hit him in the stomach with the butt of their rifles, and on the back of the knees with the barrel. He fell over in a pile, and through his pain, spat at them. They hit him again, and he soon passed out. "Take him to room F1," ordered the sergeant. He was dragged off, unconscious. The rest of us seeing that display, hurried to get out of our clothes, and move into the next room. It was a large shower, with over 30 showerheads. "Wash yourselves thoroughly, and shave all your body hair," said the guard. "Hurry, and move on." We reluctantly did. There were razors, soap and shampoo at each shower. It took a bit of time because of all the hair a man has on his body. The legs take long enough, but the chest, arms, back, shoulders...it wasn't easy. And with a slightly used razor, kind of painful at times. I hoped I didn't catch anything from it, since who knows how many people had been here before? As I dried off with a towel, and moved into the next room, I saw the door open, and another batch of men coming in behind us. How many a day did they do this to? I wasn't going to be the one who asked! * * * We stood naked before the highranking woman, who moved down the line and inspected us. I had some back hair I had missed, so they shaved it off using a painful electric razor. "Next time you will learn to do better," she said. She seemed sadistic, if you ask me. Once we all passed inspection (they managed to find something small everyone had missed), we were marched into the next room where we were given clothes. Now most prisons have just drab suits all the inmates wear. Here, it was a different story. First, we were measured and given frilly lacy red panties to wear. "Several other pairs will be delivered to your rooms. Be careful not to damage these, or you will be punished." Then we were fitted for bras. I had never worn a bra before, let alone a red, lacy, frilly one, which matched the panties. I was pretty clumsy putting it on. It's hard enough to get one off of a chick, but I had never realized how hard it was to put one on either! "You all do this like stupid men," said the woman, "You will learn the proper method. Watch me!" She took off her shirt, and her bra. Then she showed us how to put one on properly. She made it look easy. We practiced several times, although many of the men seemed to gape at her tits more than watching how she worked the bra. The guy to my left was particularly inept at putting his bra on. He got upset and swore. A swing from a guard nearly floored him. He tried harder next time. One man looking at the woman with her top off whispered to me: "Nice tits, eh?" She immediately walked over to him. "So you like my breasts?" "Yes, they are very beautiful." "Only a man ogles a woman like you do. You have violated a rule. Room F1 for him!" He was dragged off kicking and screaming. We were then given pantyhose, dresses and wigs to wear. Next we were fitted for shoes, and received bright red high-heeled shoes. Even I could tell they were no longer in fashion, but I guess things trickled slowly down to eastern block countries. We were taught how to walk in the shoes, which was very hard! We practiced for fifteen minutes, before we were lead away to our cells. "State law dictates certain amenities for female prisoners," said the woman. "You will each find a box on your beds with your own supplies." I opened my box. Inside was soap, shampoo, makeup, a nail file, nail- polish, tampons, maxi-pads, deodorant, douche, and a local language copy of Playgirl magazine. Yikes! "This is Svetlana, my assistant. I am called Anna. She and I will be the ones who oversee your transformation into the women. You are all girls now. Get used to it. Lockdown!" The cell bars clanged closed, and I was inside the cell, dressed as a woman. * * * The hours were slow to move by. Nobody dared speak to each other. I got so bored that I even read through Playgirl, but it was sick to see naked men. Even the articles sucked. So much for that idea, I didn't believe what they were doing to us. I wasn't going to ever become a woman. They could use force to make me wear a dress, but I wasn't going to ever be female. Not me. There were small speakers in the cell, with a message constantly playing at a low volume. As it turned out, almost everywhere in the prison, the same message was barley audible. At first I was shocked by its content, but after a few hours, I started to tune it out. You know how if you hear the bell from an ice cream truck, you come running. But if you drive the truck, after a few days, you don't even really notice the bell ringing anymore. Well it was the same thing with this. After a few hours, I barely noticed the looping message. And as time wore on, I just tuned it out more and more. The message had two female voices speaking back and forth. They said things like, "I am a woman now. I have always been female. I hope to give birth and raise children some day. I am very feminine. I am a pretty girl. I hope to marry a handsome man some day. I like babies. I wish I was as pretty as a magazine model. I hate violence. I like wearing sexy clothes...," and so on. It was always on, and always absorbing into our brains. Several hours later, the men who had been dragged off to 'Room F1' were returned to their cells. Up to this point, I had been the only one in my cell, but the doors opened, and the poor man who had been taken away was put in with me. He was in obvious physical pain, glassy eyed, and delirious. They pushed him in, and slammed the iron bars shut. I helped him off the ground, and moved him onto his cot. "Are you all right?" I asked. "I'm just a little girl, and my mommy told me not to talk to strangers," he replied meekly. "You can trust me," I said, "I won't hurt you" "No! I want my mommy! Please leave me alone! I'm just a little girl! Don't hurt me!!!" He balled up and cried. I left him alone, and wondered what they hell they had done to him in that room to make him act like that! I was going to make sure *I* didn't end up in that room F1. Ever. * * * Later, they gave us a meal. It was a salad, cut up piece of cantaloupe, a few chunks of cheese, and some carrots. There were also four pills of various colors, and a glass of water. "Make sure you eat like the ladies that you are," said Svetlana, with a veil of threat hanging over her words. "And take all of your pills. You don't want to make me have to punish you, do you?" She was tall, thin, with short blond hair parted on the side, whereas Anna had long hair worn up in a tight bun, hers was short. Both were pretty, but Svetlana was much younger, perhaps just 25, whereas Anna had to be at least 40. Both were attractive, but I was scared of them both. Women in uniform were sort of a turn on, but now when you are scared for your life. After dinner, we were rounded up, and all marched to the auditorium. "You are going to see a movie tonight," said Anna. "In fact, there are several features you will be watching. Make sure to pay attention. If I see you napping or talking..." She didn't have to complete her sentence. The first 'movie' turned out to be some sort of Soviet era film about the glories of the state. Boring, but I pretended to watch. Then there were two films, they were intended to be shown to young girls, who were entering puberty. "Your body is undergoing many exciting changes," said the voice-over, "as you begin your transformation into young women. There are many adjustments in store for you, as your body changes...." We dreaded the thought that they intended these same changes for us. Finally, there was a real European film, a romance. In the states, we would have called it a 'chick flick'. I hated that sort of film, but it was better than being in a cell with nothing to do. In fact, we were often shown films like these in the days that followed. It was one of our few respites. Afterwards, we were taken back to our cells, and told to go to sleep. We would start our first full day of training at 7am. * * * In the morning, we assembled to eat our breakfast together. Svetlana and Anna were very unhappy with us. "Just look at you!" she screamed. "Some of you don't have your wigs on straight. You there, you didn't shave this morning, and you have stubble all over your face. For shame!" she hit him across the knuckles with a ruler, just like those nuns back in my school days. Great, just like having Sister Beatrice again after all these years. "And you," she said walking over to me. "What did I do?" I asked. I had my wig on straight, I had shaved, I hadn't done anything wrong at all. "Last night you went to urinate. You did so standing up. A woman sits down. You will suffer punishment. Today, instead of recreation, you will come to my office." I looked up in surprise. So they were always watching us. "You are going to serve me," she whispered into my ear. I wasn't very enthusiastic to find out what that entailed! We ate while being lectured on proper manners, how to take smaller bites, chew properly, and so on. That was going to take some getting used to. It was like going to charm school. Hold your fork this way. Use your napkin like this. Sip this way... Next, we were lined up again, as Anna and Svetlana went down the line to each of us. I happened to be the leftmost one in the line, so I got it first. "Are you a man or a woman," asked Anna. I remembered their rule, so I gave the answer they wanted to hear. "I am a woman," I replied. "You say it, but you don't believe it. Do not lie to me in the future. It is not respectful to lie to your superior. You have been warned." But what was I supposed to do? If I said I'm a man, I break their rule and get punished. If I lie, I break a different rule, and get punished. What in the hell was I supposed to do? "From now on," said Svetlana, "you name is Elle. That is the name you will answer to, and none other. You would be wise to forget your old name and your old life, Elle." She moved on down the line. After we all received our new female names, we were given tags to wear, so we could all learn each other's names. I recognized one of the men from the bar. His name had been Leonid, but he was now called 'Katerina'. We then all were moved to a classroom. I noticed the message still repeating. What would days and days of having it pounded into our heads do to us I wondered? For the next six hours, we attended class after class, learning to move, talk and act like women. We were told that we would undergo 12 hours of training every day, until we learning to do things the proper way. Then we would move on to the next class. Various lessons were learned, one more extreme than the next. Failure to comply with orders resulted in sever punishment, whether it was inflicted pain, or the dreaded trip to room F1. Few were left unscathed. After dinner, we had one hour for recreation. However, I was singled out. "Elle, come with me!" ordered Anna. What choice did I have? I followed her to her austere office. There was a door leading to another small room inside her office. She pointed me in there, where I found a 'French maid' type of outfit. "Put on your work clothes, and return in here," she said. I felt silly and embarrassed to wear an outfit with such a high skirt, low cut neckline, fishnet stockings, apron, and the little white thing you wear on your head. Such an outfit on a sexy woman would have been awesome, but on me, a man it was downright embarrassing. Anna had a bucket and sponge sitting on the floor when I returned. "Get on your hands and knees. Scrub the floor until there is not one spot of dirt!" I did as she ordered. What else was I going to do? After half an hour, she told me to stop. "My feet are sore," she said. "Give me a foot massage." I again obeyed. I rubber her feet, doing the best job I possibly could. If I slacked off, even for a moment, she gave me a look, which let me know not to let up. My knees were sort, and my hands ached. But I kept going. At long last, she said I could stop. After I put her shoes back on, she waved me over to her. "Come close and kneel before me, woman," she said. She lifted up her skirt, revealing that she was not wearing any panties. She pulled it up out of the way, and sat in her chair. "Use your mouth and your tongue only. Do not touch me otherwise. Suck me. Now!" I went at her. I kept going, with the juices flowing down the sides of my mouth. At one point, she used her hands to push my head closer into her. I could tell from the smell and the taste that she was starting to menstruate. But I did as she ordered me. I wasn't going to give them an excuse to send me to Room F1, like my roommate. He was still in a daze, and insisted he was a little girl. They had somehow wiped out his mind. I had to avoid that at all costs. After a long time, with her moaning in pleasure, she gave me a towel, told me to clean up, get back into my own dress, and rejoin the others. "Your tongue is long and sensuous. I think this will be your normal punishment from now on," she said, clearly in rapture from orgasm after orgasm. She actually gave a hint of a smile for the first time. This wasn't so bad, if it would make me teacher's pet. I had regularly given my wife oral sex, and she had trained me well in how to do it. * * * Next, there was a fifteen minute of laser hair removal session, which they told me would be done every day, until I no longer had body hair. There was pain, but it was just a little sting. "You won't need to shave anymore soon," said the technician. There were more classes for the rest of the day. We were always together as a group in each of the classes, except that one or two persons were pulled aside during every class. The last class of the day was to be on women's history, but it was my turn to be pulled aside. I was walked down a long hall, to a plain white room with a medical gurney. They had me strip naked at gunpoint, get on the gurney, to which they strapped me. They wheeled me down the hall to another room. It was filled with all sorts of medical and computer equipment. They hooked up a bunch of wires to me, in the head, the chest, and even one on my genitals. They put an I.V. drip into my arm. I could see my heart blip on the monitor next to the bed. A beautiful woman in a white coat walked into the room. My pulse quickened. "I am Doctor Pavlova," she said, "and this will be your first session. Let me explain what we are about to do. You are hooked up to many sensors. We measure your heart, breathing, brain activity, just like a polygraph test, only far more detailed and accurate. You will be exposed to various stimuli. We measure your reactions. A correct reaction results in pleasure. An incorrect reaction results in pain, very simple. Are you ready?" I was scared, and you could see the monitors all blipping faster. "Now we begin." Dr. Pavlova pushed a button, and my gurney raised my head up, so that I could now see a video screen in front of me. The screen was black, but it cut to a picture of a naked woman with her legs spread wide. I immediately started to get aroused. That was a mistake, because I received a sudden pain sensation all over my body. It was overwhelming! I tried not to cry out. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. I was shaking though, in reaction. It was a good thing that I had been tied down so that I could not move my arms and legs, because during the pain I would have been flailing wildly. I could feel soreness where the tie downs had been pulling my arms, and this from just one jolt. "We use nerve induction to produce your pain sensation. There is no scarring, no permanent proof. But you will remember the feeling. Remember, any incorrect reactions, and you will receive more pain. All you have to do is react correctly, and you will get great pleasure. Let me show you. Tell me that you are a woman." "I am a woman," I said. "You are lying, but this time I will let it go. Now say it again, but try to believe it." "I *am* a woman," I repeated. She pushed a button, and suddenly I was just floating. Wave after wave of incredible pleasure swept over me, more intense than even an orgasm. Wow! I never wanted it to end, but of course it did after a few seconds. I could not believe that such a feeling was possible. I was immediately addicted. I would do anything to feel that again! "So you see. All you have to do is react correctly, and you can receive the pleasure. Or if you insist on being a stubborn mule, you can have all the pain you would like. Do you understand?" I nodded, meekly. The next picture was one where the photographer zoomed in on the V-neck of a woman's dress, so that you could clearly see the cleavage from her large breasts. Again, it was very sexy, and turned me on. Zap! I was hit again with the overwhelming pain. "The correct reaction," she said, "is 'That's just like me!' or 'I wish my breasts were that full and beautiful'. You must learn. Now say it!" "I wish my breasts were like that," I said. This went on for what seemed like forever, but in reality must have been half an hour. I can tell you for sure, that by the end of the session, my body was learning *not* to react to a sexy picture of a woman. In fact the last picture they showed was the first one of the naked woman with her legs spread. I didn't have any sexual reaction at all. "Good. You are learning." Her assistant started to disconnect all of the electrodes and sensors from my body. I felt such great relief. Dr. Pavlova took a syringe full of a clear liquid, and walked over to where the tubes from the I.V. drip went into my arm. "Are you a man or a woman?" she asked. "I am a woman," I replied. "Good. Then you won't mind a healthy dose of female sex hormones. Here you go! I also put some pain medicine in for you, since you tried to be such a good girl." She emptied the syringe into the I.V., and I imagined I could feel the liquid dripping into my bloodstream along with the saline solution. When all of the female hormones had gone into my body, they disconnected the I.V., put a bandage on my arm, and wheeled me back into the little white room. "Don't worry," said the nurse, "we have a lot of experience in feminizing men. How do you think our swim team used to win the gold- medal each year? We used feminized men." I dressed back in my women's clothes, and was marched back to my cell for the night. I now had female hormones in my body. Of course, who knows what was in the pills they made me take? * * * For the next month, every day was the same, Classes, Special service for Anna and sessions with Dr. Pavlova. Within days of being bombarded with the female sex hormones, I was no longer able to even get an erection. That and the fact that every time I started to, I flinched from Dr. Pavlova's programming. My body and eventually no longer reacted with sexual attraction to sexy pictures of women. Instead, seeing a sexy woman made me flinch at first. But now I was getting used to thinking 'I wish I was her', like Dr. Pavlova was programming me to. Every time, they asked if I was a man or a woman. If I said I was a man, I got the pain. If I said I was a woman, I got the pain, because they said I was lying. So I never escaped without at least a few doses of pain, although I also managed to receive several doses of pleasure each session. I also still avoided having to go into room F1, although several of the people in my group were sent there. They were never the same afterwards. I wondered what could be worse than what Dr. Pavlova was doing to us? I wasn't about to find out. By now, we were all used to wearing female clothes. It had come to seem 'normal'. We were given a wider range of dresses, skirts, blouses and such, and were taught how to coordinate outfits. We were given wide latitude in what we wore. We eventually even got Capri pants, although I preferred wearing a skirt, because it was more comfortable. We also had to wear breast forms, so it looked like we all had tits. We all wore makeup every day, had our ears pierced, and wore jewelry. None of us were pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but bit-by- bit we were ground down, and became more feminine all the time. It was becoming automatic to say I was a woman. I was now used to being called 'Elle'. All of us were starting to walk, talk, and act like women. I had no choice but to become a woman for them. I did as I was told, taking my pills, following orders. I felt that I was still me inside, and I had learned how to hide my reactions very well. But some of the men in our group, particularly the ones who had been to room F1, seemed to really think they *were* women. And still the messages were always on, barely audible, pounding into my head: "You're a woman. You have always been a woman. You're a girl. You're female...." * * * Over time, some of our classes were changed. We no longer had women's history class, for example. In its place, was a new individual session, where I was tied up to a bed, then rotate so that I was standing. They placed goggles over my eyes, and I could see pretty realistic 3-D images. When I looked down through the goggles, I saw a female body instead of my own. In the image, I had large breasts, a curve to my hips, a vagina, and everything. It looked very real. "That is your true body," said the instructor. "Get used to it. When you look at yourself in the mirror, that is what you should *expect* to see. If you were to see a male body in the mirror, you should feel surprised, and ashamed." A mirror appeared in the virtual reality view, and I looked myself up and down. Dr. Pavlova had programmed out of me sexual reaction to the female body. So as I saw a naked woman in the mirror before me, I felt no sexual attracting or excitement. "That's you," said the teacher. "That's me," I repeated. They pounded the new body image into my head. * * * At two months, I was noticing slight changes to my body from the constant deluge of female sex hormones, pills, growth enhances, and who knows what else they were giving us. I was sure that there was some swelling in my breasts, and my aereolas were larger now. My skin felt softer (although we were also applying creams and lotions every day too). By now, all my facial-hair had been zapped by lasers and I didn't have to shave anymore. My back and chest were done too, with my arms next to go on the list. One night I really had a bad sleep. I kept waking up all night, and when we were told to get up in the morning, I was in a daze. I hurried to dress up for inspection, but I ended up forgetting something, which ended up getting me in trouble. Anna came to me, poked me in the chest, and asked me why I wasn't wearing my breast forms. I stumbled for a reason. "Uh, I couldn't find them, and they were...uh..a little dirty and..." She cut me off. "That is inexcusable. Guards! Take her to Room F2," She turned to me. "I think that after this experience, you won't forget your breasts again." Room F *2*? What was that? They took me out at gunpoint, strapped me into a gurney, and wheeled me into a room. I could only look up, so I couldn't see where I was. They put a gas mask over my face, and I went into blackness.... * * * I awoke feeling groggy and sore all over. What had they done to me? A nurse in a white coat came over to me and smiled. She pushed a button to raise the head of the bed I was lying on, so that I could see my body. The first thing I saw, is that I now had breasts. There was a bandage covering the incision where they had cut me to insert my new implants, but I now had large breasts. I could not believe it. I was so busy staring at them, that the nurse had to point out something else to me. "We gave you liposuction, and did some surgery on your hips and tummy," she said, almost gloating over me. I looked down, and saw that I now had curves. My hips seemed a little wider than I was used to, and my waist was much slimmer. They had given me curves! No! "We moved some things around," she said, "and it will hurt for a while. Think of it like having a girdle implanted inside you to permanently slim your waist down. You're lucky. The rest of us women have to diet to get such a nice hourglass figure." I realized why I didn't notice my curves at first; all those sessions with the virtual reality vision of my body had desensitized me, so that it didn't even seem out of place for me to have a female figure. I was getting more and more upset, and cried myself to sleep. "There, there," said the nurse, "Poor little girl. Here, I'll give you something for the pain." I fell back to sleep, and must have been out for days. * * * When I finally awoke with a clear head, I felt much better, although I knew it would be weeks before I was 100% again. It took some time to get all my strength back. I was finally hungry, and wondered how much weight I must have lost while sleeping away days, and not eating. There was the constant drip of the IV fluid into my arm, and I'm sure they were putting all sorts of chemicals and hormones into me too. At long last, a doctor came over, and talked to me about my operation. "We gave you the latest implant technology for your breasts," he said, handing me a pamphlet, which explained what I would need to do over the next few weeks while they healed. "They are not just the old fashioned silicon bags. There is an added component, where a supply of female hormones mixed with a growth factor. That is constantly being dispensed. The breasts are surrounded by a membrane, which allows a tiny amount of the liquid to seep out every day. The cells in your breast surrounding the implants will soak in the hormones, along with the growth factor. This will cause your breasts to naturally grow further. You should expect to gain perhaps half a cup size, and two to three inches over the course of the next year or two. So don't buy too many bras now; you'll need new ones in a year when your bust size reaches its full potential." I almost gagged. I had breasts now. I wanted to die. Me, with breasts! I started to cry again. *** It took days, but finally I was allowed to leave the infirmary. Of course, this meant I had to go back to my cell. Now that I had real breasts, they had taken away my old set of dresses and blouses, and replaced them with ones having plunging V-neck, so that no matter what I wore, I showed off my new boobs to everyone. I was dressing like a slut. I hated it. I didn't want to be a girl, let alone one who dressed like that. But they were forcing me to do it. The men in my group in the cell block had different reactions to my new breasts. The ones who had been sent to room F1, oohed and aahed me. "Wow! I wish I had breasts like that!" said one. "You're one lucky girl!" "Babe, you've got boobs!" said another. "I'd do anything to get cleavage like you have." The men who had not been to Room F1 seemed to all take a step further back from me, as if they would catch some disease from me. Whereas once we had talked from time to time, they all shunned me now. It was no use talking to the F1s. They were like silly little girls. So now if I was to do anything but get bored by myself, I'd have to talk to men who thought and acted like sixteen year old girls. Great. I settled back into my former routine, working long hard days going through all of their stupid training classes. My resentment was beginning to build up. One day, it boiled over when we were lined up for our daily routine. "Are you a man or a woman," said Anna. "A woman," I replied as usual. "You do not believe what you say," she taunted. "Do not lie to me." "All right!" I stormed, having taken enough, "I'm a man!" "But you're a woman. Why would you think you're a man?" "Look here lady!" I said, lifting up my skirt to show the bulge between my legs. A blow to the back of my head from a guard knocked me over. I was doubled up in pain, rolling on the ground. They dragged me out, kicking and screaming. I heard Anna say, "Room F3 for her." * * * I awoke in a hospital bed, just as I had from my room F2 experience. What the hell now? I knew what was wrong from where I felt a strange mix of pain, tingling and some strange sensation I could not describe, between my legs. I reached down, and it was all gone. I was now flat in front. They had cut it off, and I knew they must have done plastic surgery to give me a vagina. I cried. They were taking away bit by bit whatever manhood remained in me. "Aw, the little girl is crying," said the nurse, who had been watching the whole time. "Be careful. Don't touch your vagina yet my dear. You have the rest of your life to explore it, to touch it, and to caress it. Wait until you feel what it's like to have a man penetrate inside you! You're just going to love it!" she cooed, the look on her face telling me that she was thinking of orgasms she had reached with her lover. The doctor came over to explain a few things. "You're really going to like your new vagina," she said. "I made it pretty tight, so your man will receive great pleasure. We actually take your penis, split it apart, and turn it inside out, so that the wall of your vaginal canal is made up of the skin which used to cover your penis. When you make love to a man, you will get some sexual stimulation." "We had to discard your testicles. It's too bad that science has not yet found a way to transplant ovaries. Perhaps someday when we reach that point, you can come back so that we can give you a fully functioning female reproductive system." I cried as she walked away. I had a vagina now. They were turning me into a woman, physically. I had a vagina. Me! * * * It was a long painful recovery. I had many adjustments to make in my life now. It was true that my female clothes fit me better, without there being any bulge in the front, but there were constant reminders to me of my new genitalia. One night for example, I woke up, and had to use the toilet. I stood up, pulled down my panties, and realized I wasn't going to be able to go that way anymore. I *had* to sit down. I had a vagina now, and I couldn't even take a leak the way I used to. If I thought the men in my group had shunned me before, now they treated me like a leper. Of course, all of the F1 girls were jealous. They were all over me, and they all said they wanted to be just like me. Being so lonely, I started talking with them more and more, since they were the only company I had. I had to adjust to 'girl talk'. Time dragged on. They did some other little changes to me, like some surgery to my face to make it more feminine in appearance. At this point, I really didn't care anymore. I just wanted for it all to end. I would have been glad to die. I just trudged through each endless day. It didn't matter anymore. Then they performed a surgery to alter my voice. "Female voices are higher than those of males," said the doctor, "So we are going to fix yours to better suit the female vocal range. Have you ever played the piano?" I nodded yes. "You know how the low notes use long strings, but the high notes use shorter strings. This causes the strings to vibrate at a faster rate. And you know how a flute works? A shorter pipe length raises pitch, while a thinner pipe size also reduces the volume. In the same manner, we are going to shorten your vocal chords just a bit, and make your windpipe slightly shorter and smaller in diameter. When we are done, you won't recognize your own voice. It will be higher, effeminate, and *girlish*." After the surgery, when I was allowed to speak again, I hated the sound of my own voice. I sounded like a young girl talking now. This of course set the F1s off, going crazy, clamoring to get their own voices 'corrected', so they could talk like me. * * * The sessions with Doctor Pavlova were horrifying now. They were trying to force me to change my sexual reactions. They had me wear 3-D virtual reality glasses, just like when they trained me for my new body image. In the glasses, I would see a naked woman, with her legs spread. The view would move in closer and closer, like I was going to get on top of her to make love. As they did this, the pain would come. Next, they would rotate the bed so I was on my back. My feet were tied into stirrups, which would spread my legs wide. The view would show a naked man, who was going to get on top of me. The pleasure sensations were fed into my nerves, slowly at first, then full on when he got on top of me. Dr. Pavlova inserted a vibrator into my vagina at the moment when he penetrated me in the video. At that point, the pleasure waves would come harder than they ever did before. "Feel your female orgasm," she said. My eyes rolled back with the pleasure I felt. Day after day she did this to me, trying to change the way my body reacted to sexual stimuli. It made me sick. I would never let them change me. They could give me all the pain in the world, but I'd never let go. The pleasure was overwhelming, and I liked how it felt, but the whole ordeal, and what I had to do to receive the pleasure was revolting. I wasn't going to let them change my sexual preference. * * * More gray days followed. Over time, more and more of the men in our group started to go through the surgeries I had endured. First, it was mostly the F1 girls, but soon some of the men started showing up with tits. I don't know why I had been the unlucky one to go first, but I guess it was better than seeing others wind up that way, and having to dread when they would get to me. I guess they did us so slowly so that they could use it to torture the minds of the men who were resistant to them. Now that I had a female body, they started special training sessions for me. There were classes on the art of seduction, how to please a man in bed, cooking, cleaning, household care, and such. I realized that they were training me to be a housewife. The constant background messages were also taking their toll on my mind by now. One night, I woke up thinking of all the messages that had been piped in, over and over. In my head, in my thoughts, I was starting to hear myself with my new feminine voice. But as I lay awake, I noticed something: silence. They had turned the messages off! Yet when I awoke, I was thinking them over and over in my mind. They were so firmly implanted, that they kept going, like an endless loop. Part of me was constantly thinking 'I am a woman'. I fell asleep, shaking at the realization that I was doing that all the time. Parts of my mind were now feminized. * * * One particularly bad day, I was in Anna's office for our daily session. As usual, I wore the French maid outfit. Now that I had large breasts and curves, it made me look sexy. But I didn't even notice or care. That day, Anna was having her period, just like the first time I had 'serviced' her. She ordered me to suck her, but this time I refused. It was too much. "You would dare to disobey me?" she yelled. I stood silent. "Guards!" she yelled into the intercom, after pulling up her panties. A team of guards raced into her office. "Room f1!" she ordered. * * * I woke up and kissed Ivan's chest. I got up, put on my nightie, and walked downstairs for a drink of water. My legs were sore from having been wrapped around him for such a long session of lovemaking. I was just elated, and walking on air. What a lover! I was the luckiest girl in the whole world to find a man like him. I drank the cold water, and looked around the kitchen. I would have to go to the market tomorrow, since we were running low on food. After I did that and cleaned the bathroom, perhaps there would be some time to plant some flowers in the garden. Ivan had also promised me that I could go shopping to buy some new shoes. I had twelve pairs already, but I really wanted some new ones to go with my new dress. He just couldn't understand why I wanted so many pairs of shoes, but men just didn't get it sometimes. I mean, how could I wear that dress in public without the right shoes? We were so happy together, except that we really wanted a baby, and for some reason, I just couldn't get pregnant. My OB-GYN, Dr. Pavlova said to keep trying. She said that if we made love more often, perhaps I'd get pregnant sooner. I guess we could always adopt if all else failed, but I really wanted a baby of my own. How wonderful it would be to carry her in my uterus, with my body nurturing her and feeding her as she grew. Then once I gave birth, I would be able to care for her, feed her from my own breasts, hold her, love her and kiss her. She would grow up to be a pretty woman, just like me. I would love it if she could go to college, so that she'd be able to be more than just the housewife that I was. Don't get me wrong, I loved my life, I got so much enjoyment from keeping a tidy house, cooking, cleaning, washing, gardening, pleasing my man. But I wanted more for my baby. Perhaps she could go study at the university, and become someone important, a lawyer, or a doctor. Perhaps she would grow up, and move to America where should could really become someone. I could only dream, and hope for her future, once I finally got pregnant....