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Some time ago, I wrote a story called Lycra Fantasies. Steve Zink was nice enough to reply with some very kind comments and encouragement to develop a little fantasy universe I had been kicking around. Well, the vagaries of life got in the way, but it did give me a bit of time to flesh things out. Below is the product. A new universe I would like to call Fantasies Unlimited Inc. FUI has a couple of simple guidelines: 1. The CEO runs things via a computer network. Thus, each sub-company somehow uses computer technology to impart magic on to the items or services they sell. Ordering system, payment system, computer records whatever. For instance, at a Hooters, the food ordering system could randomly add a free desert to a patrons order that turns him into a Hooters girl. 2. The transformee retains knowledge of his/her previous life. Besides that, the skies the limit. Any kind of sub-company you want to add is fine. You want to add a Fantasy Garden Nursery where patrons are turned into women and then beautiful plants (or just plants), go ahead. Or maybe you would like to create Fantasy Park, where the patrons are turned into mythical creatures, like mermaids and centaurs, for display purposes. How about Fantasy Robot Systems where unsuspecting men become female pleasure-droids ready to be shipped out to palaces of ill-repute in the near future? Or better yet an Island of Fantasy where...well, I guess that's been done already, but you get the point. Finally, yes, I know that Hooters and Playboy don't quite fit the scheme, but it has always been a fantasy of mine to be turned into a Hooters Girl or Playboy Bunny, so expect to see something along those lines one of these days. Without further ado, here is my new story. --- The CEO looked across the room at his control screen. A giant organization chart filled the entire wall. The display showing thousands of tiny little entities forming a network that pulsed as if alive. Connecting lines flowing all the way back to the mother organization, Fantasies Unlimited, Inc. A quick perusal of the entities would have revealed familiar names like Hooters and Playboy and some not so familiar names like Fantasy Dancewear, Fantasy Massage Parlor, Fantasy Costumes, Fantasy Fetishwear and Fantasy Films. However, they all had one thing in common. They all had elements of sensuality, if not outright sex. Inventory and beautiful willing women were the currency these smaller organizations dealt with and they did not come cheap. Fortunately, The Company helped to provide both by pumping out magic to the little companies. The use of this magic made for some very interesting viewing, as the CEO was about to do on this fine day. He held out his control wand and selected one of his favorites, Fantasy Dancewear. Immediately, the screen filled with statistics. Founded in 1975, headed by Barbara Lane. Located at West 54th Street in New York City, right off of Broadway. Half of its income generated by the store website. Double digit year-over-year profits. Currently running a bit low on Lycra unitards and leotards. Yes, something would have to be done about that. The CEO selected the video icon and was greeted with the sights and sounds of a dancewear store in full swing. Men and women strolled down the aisles touching and selecting items. He sat back and watched... --- Barbara looked out at the store. The place was really packed. Even with the recent economic downturn, her shop had done exceedingly well. Of course, this was not surprising to her since she had charmed the items with a little something extra. Looking around she could see the evidence of it on the store patrons. Faces were flushed. Nipples poked out of blouses. Cocks strained against pants. The more they looked and handled the merchandise, the hotter they got. But the real kicker was when they got their purchases home. Wearing any item caused the wearers deepest sexual fantasy to come true. Unfortunately for the customer, the magic was quite temporary. After about a week, the items would loose their ability to induce fantasies. Good thing too, or quite a few Broadway dance productions would have been shut down in rehearsals! Naturally, this was a great way of creating repeat business. Barbara had won an innovation award for that little twist. Today, she was trying to fill an unusual order from a corporate client. Looking about, she saw a rather disheveled, lonely, overweight man. She picked up what looked like a price scanner and aimed it at him. Her computer readout behind the counter came to life. Robert Taylor. Unmarried. Cross-dresser. Fantasies... "Hmmm, very interesting," Barbara thought to herself. He was perfect for her needs. "Hello Sir, may I help you?" Rob startled at the sudden attention of the shopkeeper. He had been trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he didn't exactly meet the body standard of the typical dancer, but that didn't stop him from indulging in his fetish for dancewear, and shiny Lycra in particular. This was his first time in an actual brick-and-mortar dance store. He usually confined himself to shopping on the internet, although he would often gaze longingly at the clothes in the Fantasies window walking to and from work. His lack of physical conditioning stopped him from plucking up the courage to simply go inside. Judging from the unbelievable beauty of the men and women in the store on this day, he was right to have been hesitant. However, on this particular commute to work, he had overheard a couple of girls outside the shop gushing about the clothes in a most curious manner. "Diane, I could have stayed in that shop forever. I was getting so worked up just stroking that unitard, I though I was going to cum on the spot!" "Told you so Tina. Wait until you try it on at home. Mind blowing! And I'll tell you another little secret, it works on guys too. Just for a little fun, I had John try on one of my tights the other day and he had a chain orgasms that lasted for 10 minutes! Didn't even leave a stain! He told me he always wanted to be multi-orgasmic." "Wow! I was wondering about all those hard dicks in there. Don't usually see that many men in that kind of store. I was so horny I almost threw one of them down and dry humped him. I can't wait to have Bill give this outfit a try too. I can see why you come back every week." That sealed it for Rob. He convinced himself to just do it, and before he knew it, he was strolling up and down the aisles, caressing all that fabulous Lycra. Working himself up. And now he was sweating bullets, trying to think of an answer to the shopkeepers inquiry. "I'm just here to buy something for my girlfriend." Barbara gave a small chuckle. "Rob, you don't have to lie. I know you want to get something for yourself. We get all kinds in here and we never turn anybody away. So what would you like to try on?" Rob gulped. This was getting way beyond his original plan. Walk in, look at a few things and back out as fast as possible. But still, those girls had been right. These clothes did have a strange power. He was so aroused that his inhibitions seemed to be falling away. "Uh, do you think I could try those shiny pale pink tights and that black Lycra racer back thong leotard?" "Of course. Would you like ballet slippers, character shoes or pointe shoes?" Rob was again taken a bit off balance by the question. "Really, I can do that? Do you even have them in my size?" "We have clothes and shoes to fit any body type. We can't have you standing around in your stocking feet can we?" "Oh, right, uh, I'll try the pointes. It's always been something of a fantasy of mine." Barbara fixed him with a knowing smile. "I know. We like to cater to that sort of thing here." Rob gave her a weak grin. She led him to one of the changing rooms in the back. She then gathered up the clothing he requested and took them behind the counter. She took out the price scanner and read each item into the computer. The screen kicked to life and presented her with several spell options. She clicked down and selected the standard fantasy spell, then picked up the phone. "John, you might want to come over to the store and buy something right now. Yes, it is happening. See you in a bit." She then made a second call, "I anticipate your order will be filled by this afternoon." She then went back to the changing rooms and handed Rob the items. "Rob, you are going to have to completely strip to put these on." "You sure you don't want me to keep my underwear on?" "No. Naked is the only way to ensure a proper fit. These clothes have a special stain resistant treatment." Very special, thought Barbara. "Let me know if you need any help." "Okay, then, give me a minute." Rob stripped and started to put on the clothes. Borne of out years of dressing in secret, he made quick work of the tights, pulling them up snug against his genitals and making sure the seams were straight. Just as he expected, he made less than an ideal model. The hair on his legs showed through the pink sheer material and the spare tire around his waist was not exactly picturesque. But something about the way the material caressed his body was really turning him on. Next came the leotard. He was careful to make sure the thong placement was correct. Rob sighed. "These thongs never seem to fit me as well as I would like. They don't seem to ride up between my cheeks properly," he thought to himself. But the feeling of being caressed had now spread to his torso. He cock was already rock hard and pressed up against his belly. A bit painful, but also oddly thrilling. Finally came the pointe shoes. These were more of a challenge as he had never worn these before. He called out to Barbara, "Could you come in here and show me what to do with these ribbons. I have no idea how to tie them." Barbara walked into the changing stall. "My, don't we look cute! Just try to tie them. You might be surprised." He gave Barbara a skeptical look. He then proceeded to expertly cross the ribbons around the font of his foot, around his ankle, tie off a knot and place it in the depression between his Achilles tendon and ankle bone. "Wow, how is that possible?" he asked. "Well, these clothes allow the wearer to live out their deepest fantasies. Since you always wanted to dress as a ballerina and wear pointes, the clothes helped fill in the knowledge you lacked. And that isn't all they can do." Barbara reached out and held him close. She whispered in his ear, "Your deepest fantasy isn't just to dress like a ballerina, is it Rob. You want to BE a ballerina. A girl in that most feminine of professions." Rob pulled back a bit, head down, and weakly protested, "No, that can't be. I just like to dress. That's all, nothing wrong with that is there?" "Nothing wrong at all," Barbara reassured him. "However, there is also nothing wrong with what you really want either. Admit it and it can be yours." "No, I can't, I... I just can't," he stammered. She fixed him with her gaze and gently added, "The clothes are calling you home to your hearts desire. Can't you feel it? Admit your deepest fantasy and it will be reality." Rob had noticed that the caressing of the tights and leotard had become much more insistent. Especially around his rigid cock. It was starting to get very distracting. Very hard to think of anything but the pleasure. Stroking and stroking him until he was at the very edge of orgasm, but not quite over. It seemed to continue this way for an eternity. He was losing himself to the feeling. Going mad from the lack of fulfillment. "Finish me," he cried out. "There is only one way that will happen," Barbara replied. "Then, yes! Yes, I want to be a ballerina! Make me one please!" Barbara smiled and said, "So be it." Rob began to cum. Not just in his cock, but all over his body. The feeling was so overwhelming, he couldn't hold himself up any longer. He fell back on the dressing room chair, facing the mirror, legs spread to each side, mouth open wide, unable to speak. The orgasms then started to hit with such ferocity that his body would visibly spasm. Each convulsion brought a change. In the mirror, Rob saw his body shed pounds at a fantastic rate. His skeletal structure shrunk to keep pace until he had the characteristic slight build of a ballerina. The next spasm brought beautifully long and graceful looking legs and arms. Yet another brought a slender neck and hands as well as perfectly arched feet. The clothes were still spotless. No cum signs anywhere and they had magically adapted to fit his new frame. Rob was overcome with joy at the transformation, but before he could dwell on it, his body was wracked with such a pleasurable wave that his head was forced into his chest. When he was able to focus once more, the face staring back at him was no longer his. A classic beauty with medium length black hair, arched eyebrows, delicate features and high cheekbones greeted him. He smiled and the girl in the mirror returned it. A bit of time then went by without any more orgasms or changes. But he wasn't finished! "Barbara, why haven't I changed completely into a girl!" he cried. "Patience," Barbara replied. "The next changes are the most significant and require a bit of time for the required sexual energy to gather." Rob was certainly starting to feel the sexual energy she spoke of. Tiny little sparks of pleasure were beginning to roil up inside him. Building up like flood waters behind a dam. Each one greater than the last. Rob was left to twitch as each one temporarily gripped his body. He was actually beginning to become afraid at the power these little bursts implied about the intensity of orgasm needed for the final change. When he felt like he could no longer take another one, the dam burst. His body seized. Legs and arms out to the sides, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes staring straight ahead. His pelvis suddenly snapped open a little wider. His waist contracted a bit. His nipples stood out like two tiny hard points. Their sensitivity seemed to triple as he could distinctly feel them straining against the deliciously smooth fabric. It felt very much like the sensation he used to have from rubbing the skin around his balls. The feeling got more pronounced as two breasts started to push out against the leotard. Before they got too large, they stopped growing. After all, it wouldn't due for a dancer to have huge breasts. Only one changed remained. A small pause as more pleasure bursts built up, then more body orgasms. Rob dropped to the floor from the chair. His legs were in a full split to the sides of his torso. He could see up close as the bulge in the crotch of the dancewear faded. There was a massaging sensation as if the clothes were molding his new genitals. His cock, once pinned to his body by the tight fabric, was inching down his belly as it was drawn up inside him. With one final sudden explosive orgasmic burst, it was gone and Rob, the man, was no more. In an erotic display of flexibility, she rolled forward on to the ground, still in full split, and began to laugh with happiness. A nice feminine soprano sing-song of a laugh that surprised her. The feeling of the floor against her pussy gave her a great thrill. She always wondered what that felt like for women. She rubbed her genitals back and forth on the ground for good measure, then leapt to her feet and inspected herself. A perfect dancers body. The Lycra hugged her in all of the right places like a lover. So perfect was the fit that she could not see a wrinkle, especially around her cunt and tits. It wrapped around them with a tight caress that served as a constant reminder to herself, and the world, that she was no longer a man. Before the change, she had thought dancewear felt good. Now that she had a body designed for it, it was positively blissful. To celebrate she raised herself en pointe and did a few effortless pirouettes. After the last one, she stayed en pointe and looked in the mirror to review herself. Perfect form, beautifully arched feet and long thin legs encased in shiny pink Lycra. She could see the seams of the tights travel up her legs, across each butt cheek and tantalizingly disappear beneath the thong leotard. She also noted that the rear thong strap now properly disappeared high up between her cheeks, only to reappear in front and highlight her pussy. She dropped back down and stated, "I'm a ballerina." Barbara replied, "Not just any ballerina. You are Christy Taylor. Prima ballerina for the NYC Ballet." Christy stared back. "How is that possible?" "Your body isn't the only thing that has changed. As far as the world is concerned, you have always been Christy Taylor, finest ballerina of our age," Barbara said. Just then, someone knocked on the door. Barbara opened it to find her assistant, Joanne, flanked by a muscular man in a form-fitting white T-shirt and new pair of black tights. "John here is anxious to join his partner," Joanne said. Barbara smiled. She stood aside and let John in the changing room. He purposefully strode in, grabbed Christy by the waist and passionately kissed her. Christy struggled for a bit, then reciprocated. When they came up for air, Christy asked. "I don't understand, this isn't part of my fantasy." "I know," Barbara replied, "Yours has been fulfilled. At least for the time being. This is his. Meet John Bellamy, your pas de deux partner." Barbara smiled to herself. John had once been a failed ballerina, jealous of the relative ease with which men could gain entrance and advance in the ballet world. That, combined with her sexual desire to dominate, had naturally led to her transformation into John on a previous visit. "Well, let me leave you two alone. I'm sure you have a lot to go over," Barbara said. She left the room and closed the door behind her. John continued with his advances, caressing Christy's tits and moving down to her pussy. "So how do you like having one of these?" he asked. Christy was too lost in the moment to immediately answer. She could only moan at the incredible sensation and grind her cunt into John's hand. When she finally got her wits about her she whispered in a voice dripping with sexual desire, "I don't understand. Why do I feel like I can't control my body. Like I would do anything for you?" "It's part of my fantasy. I've always wanted to fuck a submissive ballerina," John said. As if to drive this home to her, she was compelled to rise up en pointe and turn her back to him. She rubbed her ass up and down his cock until it was stiff. Even though she hated to admit it, it felt good and was really turning her on. "I..I can't seem to stop. Oh God, I'm so wet." She felt an emptiness in her pussy. An animal urge to be filled. "Please, please fuck me." "Exactly what I wanted to hear," John said. Christy, still en pointe with her legs slightly apart and at full extension beneath her, bent over at the waist. Whether it was John's doing or her own desire, she didn't know and didn't care at this point. She frantically grabbed at the crotch of her outfit, trying to make some sort of passage for John's dick. John grabbed her hand. "Not to worry. I'll take care of that." With those words, her leotard and tights seemed to come alive. They were trying to work there way into her cunt. "Oh, oh...OH!" she cried out. She was being penetrated by her clothes. When they had fully worked their way into her, she looked down to see her genitals perfectly outlined in black Lycra. Vaginal lips, clitoris, everything. She experimentally reached out to touch her clit and let out a whimper. "Much better," John whispered gleefully. She looked between her legs only to see his cock similarly outlined by his black tights. "Just thought it would be easier if we didn't have to take off our clothes. So, I just made them part of us." Christy gasped. She grabbed at her leotard, but couldn't find a seam along her body. She tried to come off pointe, but it didn't look like she even had knees or ankles! She couldn't see them, but she was also pretty sure her toes were gone. Absorbed into the pointe shoes that had become her feet. John reached around her and fondled her nipples. The surprise she had felt at her further transformation immediately was pushed aside as her burning desire to be penetrated returned. Happily, John obliged. His cock pushed into her transformed pussy with the whisper of fabric on fabric. The slick Lycra provided all the lubrication they needed as he began to pump her and massage her breasts. With each plunge into her, Christy let out a louder "Oh!" The power of his thrusts lifted her a few inches off the floor only to land again en pointe. This went on until Christy was in a full throated scream. She could feel her herself start to peak just as John's thrust got more insistent. John threw his head back, lifted her off the floor and roared. Their orgasms crashed into them as they both spasmed in ecstasy. Eventually, they both came down from their high and John eased Christy to the floor. As he pulled out, she could feel the material of her outfit follow. A quick check showed that her legs and body were back to normal. She sprawled to the floor in a heap, only to be followed by John. Barbara knocked on the door and walked in quickly. "Well, it certainly sounded like you enjoyed yourselves. Now up, up. You'll be late for rehearsals!" They both staggered to their feet. Christy lamented, "So many changes. I don't know what to do." "Nonsense. Just follow your instincts and the clothes will do the rest. Here, both of you, put on these sweats. Can't have you walking around New York looking like that," said Barbara. "Don't we owe you any money?" asked Christy. "No, NYC Ballet pays me to provide dancewear for their employees. In return, I provide them with instant dancers like you. Saves them quite a bit in development." "There has to be SOME cost," said Christy. "Well, yes," replied Barbara. "In order to maintain your present form, you will have to wear something new from this store each week. The magic is finite and must be recharged. Fortunately for you the NYC ballet will provide this for you. However, the career of a female professional dancer is not very long. There will come a time when you will have to provide for yourself if you do not wish to go back to being Robert. Now off you go. Rehearsals await." Almost in tears, Christy, planted a kiss on Barbara's cheek and turned for the door. John gave Barbara a smile and followed Christy. As the pair was about to leave Barbara called out, "Take care to remain humble. Ballerinas are well known to become divas. As you have seen, a replacement can be generated at will." They turned, looked at each other, gave Barbara a nod, called out their thanks one more time and headed out the door. Joanne approached her boss. "You know, you weren't supposed to tell her that." Barbara sighed and addressed Joanne, "I know, I just liked Robert and have high hopes for Christy. I don't want to see her end up like the others." Just then, an angry looking women stormed into the store. She was a women of obvious class and grace, but that didn't stop her from screaming, "Barbara, where are you!" "Speak of the devil," said Joanne. Barbara walked up to her and asked, "What seems to be the trouble Samantha." "I've been fired and thrown out of the company apartment! Those bastards at the ballet said I had become too much of a handful and that you had already found a replacement! So where is this new bitch!" Barbara took a deep breath, stared at the woman calmly and addressed her in a stern voice, "Samantha, you are too late. She is already on her way and there is nothing you can do to change it. I told you from the beginning that one day your career as a prima ballerina would end." Samantha started to sob. "What am I to do!" she managed to get out between the tears. "Cheer up, you did well for yourself while it lasted. Just make sure to come back once a week to buy a new item and you won't turn back into Lester," said Barbara. Until a few years ago Samantha Ludlova had been Lester Carmichael, a degenerate gambler and small time thief. Barbara had hoped his change in station would improve his character. It appeared she was wrong. "You don't understand, I blew it all on fancy clothes and jewelry. I don't have much left," cried Samantha. She then abruptly stopped her crying and fixed Barbara with an evil stare. "Of course, if you don't provide me with the items I need, maybe I'll go to the authorities. They might be very interested to know what goes on in this place." "Predictable," thought Barbara to herself. "Well, maybe we can arrange something else. Why don't you follow me into the back." "Well, alright then," said Samantha through clenched teeth. Both women walked through the swinging doors into the store stockroom. Samantha looked about. Rack after rack lined the walls. Hanging from the racks were hundreds of hangers bearing blank price labels. Curiously, none of the hangers had clothes on them. Barbara picked up a portable pricing computer and one of the hangers. She aimed the computer's gun at the hanger's label and waited as the computer calculated inventory and made its decision. Magically, words began to appear on the label. Barbara tossed the hanger to Samantha. Samantha read the label, "Fantasy Dancewear, Unitard, Fuschia, 30% Lycra, 70% Nylon. Is this some kind of joke?" She made as if to toss the hanger back, but found she couldn't let go. "Hey, what's going on!" "Can't have you going to the Police and ruining my business. Plus, I'm running low on unitards," replied Barbara in a matter-of-fact tone. "What are you... oh, I feel strange. Kind of tingly. I, uh, won't... oh God that feels good!" Samantha collapsed to the floor clutching the hanger. Realization dawned on her. The last time she had felt this, she had turned from Lester into Samantha. "No Barbara, no, I was just bluffing about the police. I was desperate. Don't turn me into a unitard!" "Too late," said Barbara, "Its already started." Samantha looked down at herself. Her clothes dissolved away leaving her naked. Orgasmic bliss gripped her body as her skin turned fuschia and then gained a texture that seemed familiar. She held her arm up to her face. "My skin is Lycra!" she cried. The only parts of her left untouched were her feet, hands and head. That quickly changed as she felt her feet collapse slowly into her lower legs, forming the rubber gripping bands at the seam. There was no pain, just a sensation much like having her nipple licked by a lover. Her body shuddered from the pleasure. She looked at her hands, expecting them to follow suit, but her vision started to blur. Her head was becoming Lycra and was being drawn into her neck. "No!" she yelled out in fear as her head was swallowed up. She was surprised to find she was still alive. She couldn't speak, but she could still see and feel. A spasm of ecstasy that would not relent signaled the coming end of her transformation. She started to deflate like a balloon until all that was left was a two dimensional object of shiny cloth. Her hands, the last to change, detached from the hanger and became the rubber gripping bands at the ends of the arms of the garment. Barbara walked over, picked the unitard up and slipped the hanger into the neck and walked back outside into the store. If Samantha could have moaned, she would have. The hanger entering her cloth body had felt like teasing her pussy with her finger during masturbation sessions. She suddenly had a craving to be filled. Barbara hung the unitard on a rack and leaned in. "Samantha, I'm sorry it came to this, but a unitard isn't such a bad thing to be, is it. You probably have noticed that you can still feel. The good news is that when somebody wears you, it will be as if your cunt was stuffed with a big cock. And yes, you will still be able to orgasm. Good luck in your new life and thanks for helping out with the inventory." Barbara turned away and approached a customer. "May I help you Madame?" Samantha was left along to swing on her hanger with her thoughts, "Oh, please wear me, please wear me, please wear me! I'm a unitard, it is my purpose! Please wear me, please wear me, please wear me. I need release. Please wear me, please wear me..." --- The CEO turned away from his screen. He had enjoyed that session immensely. He stared down at his torso and sighed. Where there should have been a pelvis and legs, there was a merging of man and computer. He had long ago given up his manhood for the power of his position. Of course, there was compensation. He experienced the cumulative sexual energy off all those entities feeding the mother corporation. In turn, he distributed the magical energy back through the computer network. Still, at times, he sometimes longed for the simple joy of the touch of a woman. He turned back to his computer. I wonder how "Fantasy Fetishwear is getting on," he thought.