Mixing Business And Pleasure And Others free porn video

Mixing Business and Pleasure Pohst stepped out into the cobbled alley hefting his bag of coins and grinning broadly. He was one of the most prosperous pimps in Xeft, and tonight had been a good night. His girls had done well, and he was proud of them. Then he sighed. There were many tithes to pay and palms to grease for the authorities to look the other way. After he kept up on his payments his bag would not be quite so heavy. "A heavy sigh my lord. Perhaps I can lighten your burden," Visp asked, appearing from the shadows. He eyed the girl appreciatively. His greatest weakness was that he spent too much time in the furs with his girls. His libido was legendary, often sleeping with five or more of his girls each day. "Yes, perhaps you could," and with more pleasant thoughts on his mind Pohst failed to hear his assailant sneak up and kosh him from behind. * * * Pohst heard female laughter. His head ached and he felt weak. He opened his eyes. He was atop a bench. Visp and Yohsl stood either side of him, a pair of shapely blonde wenches. Their taut tanned bodies were unadorned except for the chains and collars that marked them as his thralls. Memory returned. He had been speaking to Visp. Yohsl must have hit him from behind. Damn the pair! The two had not always been slave girls; in fact they had been his competitors. He'd had them ruked then personally ignited them both. Breaking them was one of his fondest memories. They'd been hot and ready for brolling, their taut bodies responding wonderfully beneath his touch. They'd taken to the chain and lash like natural slaves. He'd expanded, taking over their business. Their shame at working alongside their former underlings had been amusing. To add insult to humiliation he'd made the two serve their former slaves. The pair had become loyal and obedient serum girls... or so he'd thought. He struggled to rise but his arms and feet were bound behind him. The rope bit into his tender wrists and ankles and his limbs felt oddly thin and supple. He was atop a slave training podium. "What is the meaning of this?" Pohst asked but his blood froze. "No! You... haven't." Pohst looked at the mirror that faced the training podium. It showed precisely what it was meant to. A serum girl. She had become a serum girl! Tied and bound, her naked body slim and young, her skin pale and virginal. The swell of her breasts rose and fell with her sudden nervous breathing. Her hair was tied back in a knot. Her lashes were kohled and her lips were painted a rosy red. Nestled between her legs she could see the mounded lips of her pussy. She stared in disbeleif. She was a tiny slip of a girl. Just the kind of girl he would have brolled... The two tanned girls chuckled with knowing mirth. "Waking as a newly ruked serum girl is quite an experience, isn't it?" Visp asked. Pohst swallowed, the girls eyeing her with disquieting intensity. She remembered waking them to their new lives with similar gloating words. She'd taken them both, asserting her mastery over them with relish. She grew moist at the memory and she lowered her eyes in shame. They prowled about her. She felt naked and exposed. Despite being naked, the two girls moved with a sureness and confidence that intimidated her. She wanted them, but not as she had wanted them before. She found herself becoming excited at the thought of being dominated by them. A hand trailed over her naked thigh and caressed lazily towards her exposed sex. "Oh, come now. That is hardly the way for a man to act," Yohsl slipped a finger over her sensitive lips. "Hardly the way a man should react..." "Please," Pohst begged. She didn't know what to think. It felt so good and she found herself pushing with abandon against the hand. She moaned in pleasure. All the time she had taken woman. She has never been taken. Her heart beat faster in her chest and she wriggled about as the hand withdrew. Her breath came in shallow mouthfuls. She smelt the musk of her sex. She looked from one girl to the other nervously. She wanted them, how she wanted them. Her body quivered with desire, but she was afraid. Her desire was too strong. She turned to look in the mirror, struggling to distance herself from the scene. "I think Pohst has been sampling her wares to much," Visp noted, looking into Pohst's eyes in the mirror. Yohsl nodded in agreement, following her partners gaze. "That libido of his will make him ignite all the quicker." "Perhaps we should take our time..." Revalations. "What the?!" Vynce cried, searching in vain. The suddenly jiggling chest was all too real, providing an alarmingly pleasant sensation. Swallowing in nervous fear, Vynce continued to stare. The evidence was all too clear. He - no she, had been ruked. Memory returned in a flash - to escape the ravages of Selyf-Digon Vynce had administered the serum himself. Was this a fate worse than death for a proud warrior? Vynce tried to sort through her emotions. As a man he had always admired the crafted beauty of serum girls. Now, looking down at her own lovely flesh she felt a tinge of admiration. No, it wasn't so bad. She yet lived, and she would master the whims of her new body. This was something that would take some effort, but she would prevail. She would remain a free serum girl, not some caged beauty. Still curiosity got the better of Vynce and she slipped her hand between her legs to delicately explore the warm moistening folds of her new sex. Her lips and clit were almost too sensitive, but once she started she could not stop. It was addictive. A ragged breath escaped her lips as she felt her legs quiver weakly. Her inhibitions fled as her passion mounted. She imagined herself submitting to a strong powerful man, chained and powerless under him as his full firm cock slid into her, pumping her, mastering her. A husky gasp slid from her lips as she came to shuddering orgasm. Perhaps this was not so bad a fate at all, she thought. Bonsai Bonsai dexed seductively upon the bar. She had not always been such a compliant cup girl. In fact she had once fought against the slave inclinations inherent in her new form with all of her strength. She had fought fiercely after she had been Ruked, before being dosed with passion nectar, before her slight form had been loaded with chains, before a lash mistress had stripped her, shaved her sensitive sex and left her bent over in an alcove, her puckered sex on display for all to use. On that first day she had fought but been ignited. Thereafter she found her body constantly aching to be impaled by any mans cock, her mind unable to think of anything but sex. In these circumstances it became natural to serve her keepers and anticipate their needs. After a mere week as a cup girl she was long beyond fighting her bodies desires. She now willingly embraced the pleasures of her new flesh. She felt a hand slip deftly between her thighs to caress her shaved mound, casually exploring her tender feminine folds. She continued with her sensual dex as a finger slipped between her nether lips. Her vaginal muscles clamped reflexively and a yearning moan issued from her lips. Bonsai bent over and spread her legs without thinking. She felt an all too familiar heat growing in her loins. Her pussy began to ache in preparation of penetration. Her growing lust was almost overpowering, her entire body aching with need. Zhorian Princess After secretly cheating Fazeel out of a corporate merger, Glen had been suprised to be invited by the oddly spoken businessman to visit his homeland, Zhor. Glen had never heard of the country and had been quite surprised when he had entered a strange doorway at Fazeel's mansion to emerge in a medieval world. Whilst giving Greg a tour of his exotic home city state, Fazeel explained in his broken english, "I undertook trade on Earth. Not for personally gain... but for behalf of the Overlords. I need help... Your help. The fate of two world hang in the balance." "I see," Greg replied noncomittedlym graoning inwardly at Fazeels language, "Here... I must showed you these. My pleasure place!" he led Greg into a well appointed garden where beautiful and scanty clad woman lounged about. "I own... thess place. It housed of the cities... finest serum girls." Greg's eyes roamed about and his jaw dropped. Fazeel motioned an attendant over. The man held a book and within it were sketched exquisite beauties. "Picked one. Whichever you want... she is you. Forever." "Really?" "Yes. These woman are all my..." he motioned at the nubile beauties, "how you say... conquests?" Fazeel said, his grin deepening. "Perhaps you could describe the woman of you dreams. I may be able to provide her for you..." His language became quite clear of a sudden. Greg smiled as he flipped through the book, his loins stirring with desire. "Well, she would have to be a big breasted girl. Wide hips. I like dark skin. Not tall. Delicate. And a firecracker in the sack." "We call them the furs... I think you will become quite familiar with them." "This one," Greg said, pointing to a Nubian princess. He'd always wanted to sleep with a black woman. "A fine choice my friend... she will be most lovely." Fazeel clapped his hands and the attendant left to return a moment later with a syringe upon a velvet cushion. "First you must inject this. It will make you... fit in? Yes." Greg looked at it. "You have some strange diseases here?" Fazeel nodded. Greg took the syringe and injected himself. Then blackness overcame him. "Wake," a voice whispered in Greg's ear. Greg graoned then coughed, opening his eyes. He felt as though he'd been asleep for days and his body ached and felt... well wrong. He blinked and smiled. His dream girl smiled back at him, her ebon face inches from his. She was lovely with finely boned cheeks, full lips, long lashed doleful eyes and the cutest little nose he could images. She looked deep into his eyes and he saw her smoldering lust, mirroring his own. She was jaw droppingly gorgeous - and she was all his. Then the world tilted and the girl moved with it. Greg saw the enticing flash of her full dark breasts with their rosy nipple points, then the shine of silver. He had been looking in a mirror! "What?" Greg asked as he struggled to understand. Had that been his reflection? "Some trick with mirrors, but... my voice." Greg muttered with confusion. "It is as I said. I need your help," Fazeel said. Greg looked down at his body. He was the beautiful woman. Full chocolate breasts filled his vision, their points upturned prettily. Greg went rigid with fear. These breasts were hers Greg realised. She didn't have to reach down and check to know that the rest of her body matched. She could feel it. She clenched the muscles in her groin. Swallowed. Like nothing she'd ever felt before. She breathed in and out but the raising and lowering weight of her breasts made her stop. Greg looked up and searched Fazeel's eyes for an answer. "You have two choices girl..." Fazeel chuckled. "You may either stay here on Zhor or you may return to your Earth and help me. If you stay here you will be nothing but an object, a powerless plaything of men. You will brol like a slut for decades, perhaps centuries. On your Earth you will remain relatively free and perhaps maintain a semblance of your former life. The choice is yours." Greg felt her heart beating faster at the promise in his words. "Hardly a choice!" she blurted, her mind racing. "If I help will you return my body?" "There is no way to regain your feeble manhood," Fazeel sneered. "Go to hell!" Greg cried with as much anger as she could muster. Fazeel reached out and calmly gripped the girls chin in his firm grasp. "You will keep a civil tongue or I will have you bound in chains!" He looked deep into her smoldering eyes and smiled with pleasure. Greg felt her anger melt and her heart skip a beat. The sudden sexual tension between thrall and master filled the air with its promise of dark pleasures. She swalllowed in confusion, not sure what to say. Fazeel chuckled, sensing the girls emotions. "That is your last warning. I will leave you here to think on it. I hope for your sake you will cooperate." Greg sat in the silken sheets for a moment then she started to cry. She didn't want this body! It was a prison. She threw a pillow petulantly across the room with all her strength. The pillow hit the wall with hardly any force. She gritted her teethe and clenched her fists. She was weak and powerless. But on Zhor she was a... slave. She couldn't stay here. Back on earth she could escape from Fazeel and be free. Even with no money and no past she could survive. She still had her mind, and as every red blooded man's wet dream she would easily find a sugar daddy to keep her in the lifestyle she previously enjoyed. A wealthy old man who would not be able to have sex. The thought of sex made her curious and she reached down to touch her new sex experimentally. She groaned in pleasure. The pleasure of her own touch was indescribable. Glen's eyes widnened and she withdrew her hand, her moistness leaving her tiny digits damp. She bent to examine her new sex. Almost hairless, her lips were delicate folds of flexh the glistened like the petals of a flower in bud. She chuckled at the poetry of the thought. She'd fucked many woman before, but had never really fully appreciated the beauty of the female sex organs until now. She imagined looking down to She could smell the scent of her own sex mixed with the sweat from her transformation over the last few days or possibly weeks. It was not entirely unpleasant but the odours were a little strong. Glen rolled off the bed and stood, feeling off balance and more than a little strange. Her breasts wobbled from side to side and her widened hips swivelled oddly. A small bucket ans stool sat by a basin with a mirror and she approached it. She ladeled the cold water, stiffling a yelp as it ran in chilling rivulats over the curves of her body, leaving a wake of goosebumps. The cold water affirmed that she was not dreaming, which was not a good thing. She took the cake of rose scented soap and lathered her soft ebon skin. She started with her large breasts, taking special care to enjoy her now very sensitive nipples. Her hands roamed down her flat, taut stomach, avoiding the temptation of her vagina. Remembering how pleasurable it had been she soaped and rinsed sparingly, trying not to take too much pleasure from the sensations. As she explored her new body, she thought about what this change meant. Had Fazeel told the truth - was this permanent? And if it was, what did that mean? She still liked woman... didn't she? She dried off with a course woven towell, then walked nude back to the bed. She breifly enjoyed the air on her taut naked skin as she pondered her clothing options. A bra of some gossamer black material, a tiny thong panties and a pair of high heeled leather sandels were all the clothing she could find. Better than nothing, but not by much. The feeling of the thong slipping between the cheeks of her ass was a little disconcerting. Her ass and legs felt as though they were on display for all to see. She had always been a boxers man, but she had to admit the thong complimented her curves nicely. She pulled on the bra, struggling breifly with her breasts until they slipped into the cups. She admired herself in the mirror, liking what she saw. She was an immenently screwable peice of ass. The thought popped into her head and stayed there. She looked at the heels. She had no desire to wear them, but she couldn't walk about barefoot on Zhor - the place was little better than a third world country, with sanitation almost non existant. She shuddered to think what she might step in. Shoes were a nesecity. She strapped the leather cords around her ankles and stood up, unsteady at the start but quickly finding her balance as she strutted back and forth. The heels made her long legs longer and more defined, and gave her much needed height and confidence. They looked pretty too, the straps crisscrossing about her ebon skinned calves. She'd never much cared for clothes, but in this body she realised that they would be important. She returned to the mirror by the sink. A brush lay by the soap and without really thinking about it she picked it up and combed her long dark hair back. Looking and feeling a bit better she went to the door and tried ther handle. It was locked. With a sigh she went back to the bed, but on the way she spied a little chest of drawers which she quickly searched. She found some perfume atomisers and an assortment of makeup. There were also two stoppered glass bottles, one bitter smelling which she turned her nose up at, the other sweet smelling. She sipped the sweet smelling liquid and found it tasted like nectar and honey. Revalations. "What the?!" Vynce cried, searching in vain. The suddenly jiggling chest was all too real, providing an alarmingly pleasant sensation. Swallowing in nervous fear, Vynce continued to stare. The evidence was all too clear. He - no she, had been ruked. Memory returned in a flash - to escape the ravages of Selyf-Digon Vynce had administered the serum himself. Was this a fate worse than death for a proud warrior? Vynce tried to sort through her emotions. As a man he had always admired the crafted beauty of serum girls. Now, looking down at her own lovely flesh she felt a tinge of admiration. No, it wasn't so bad. She yet lived, and she would master the whims of her new body. This was something that would take some effort, but she would prevail. She would remain a free serum girl, not some caged beauty. Still curiosity got the better of Vynce and she slipped her hand between her legs to delicately explore the warm moistening folds of her new sex. Her lips and clit were almost too sensitive, but once she started she could not stop. It was addictive. A ragged breath escaped her lips as she felt her legs quiver weakly. Her inhibitions fled as her passion mounted. She imagined herself submitting to a strong powerful man, chained and powerless under him as his full firm cock slid into her, pumping her, mastering her. A husky gasp slid from her lips as she came to shuddering orgasm. Perhaps this was not so bad a fate at all, she thought. Lord to Tramp She lay in the cage, naked, her body sweat-slicked and spent. Her breasts felt swollen from constant fondling and her rosy nipples stood pert in the humid night air. Her moist loins tingled sensitively. Warm semen oozed pleasurably from her puckered lips to steam and dry upon her inner thighs. Her long blonde hair clung to her bare shoulders in disarray. It was the third time she had been taken by a common sailor but the passion nectar coursing through her veins made her want more. Panting she looked out through the bars at the retreating silhouette of the man. She felt a momentary stirring of regret. A few days ago she had been a lord, a commander of such men as now serviced her. Now her body was soft and weak. She no longer desired to fight to defend her honour; the concept was almost alien to her. She sighed. She had new desires to contend with. Alien female desires that she must accept. Another approached her across the rolling deck and undid his breaches. "Make yourself ready for brolling bitch," he ordered, looking her keenly in the eye. Instinctively she turned herself about, pressing herself against the bars to allow him access. She sighed as she felt his firm manhood enter her warm tight pussy. His hands gripped her rounded ass possessively as he slid in and out of her throbbing cunt. This was how soldiers treated a foe that had become a serum girl. The Lord no longer existed. None of them would acknowledge her former status, and if they did it was to ridicule her. It was their duty to disabuse her of the notion she was anything but a harlot. She had done the same herself for others turned into serum girls, but had never considered that this might be her fate. Especially since she was a lord. She groaned desperately as she felt her pussy throb with an approaching orgasm. This was already becoming second nature to her. "Good girl," noted the man. "Yes," she moaned. He slid out of her moist pussy and pressed against her anus, his large head sliding inside slowly as she gasped. "Do you like that?" he asked with a chuckle. "Yes." "Yes what?" he gripped the chain at her neck and pulled. "Yes ... master," she said struggling with her newfound submissiveness and the urges or the lust potion. "Good girl," he said as he began to ball her arse. She was rapidly becoming an insatiable little serum girl and she knew it. he man fondled her overlarge breasts which bounced with each thrust. "You like this, don't you?" "Yes," she moaned, very aware of the power this man had over her, that made her abandon all restraint. He grunted as he came in her. Her eyes clenched shut and she whimpered as surpassing waves of pleasure swelled within her. He pulled free, jism dribbling from her tight little ass hole. "Say thank you sir." "Thank you sir," for some reason the words still felt wrong to her. "You're welcome. Now lick it clean," he said, a compelling authority to his voice. She felt the need to obey. "No," she said, her former self coming through, fighting the compulsion to submit to absolute slavery. The sailor smirked and grabbed a handful of straw from her pallet. He wiped himself and then did up his breaches. "Over time you'll be reduced to a pliant pleasure slave. Once you've ignited you'll find yourself submitting unquestionably to a man's wishes. I could hardly imagine a more fitting punishment for you. I'll see you later... Enjoy your free will whilst you can, whore." She bristled at the man's leaving comments, but in her heightened state of sexual excitement it was hard to remain angry for long. She was acutely aware she was rapidly becoming a lowly chokered thrall. It worried her that thoughts of a future in the furs was comforting. A part of her still thought that if she could escape she could avoid her abject fate, but that part was diminishing by the moment. Staring down at her perfect breasts and shapely hips she had a hard time imagining herself as anything other than a slave girl. She even found herself moistening at the thought of being s slave, a worrying sign. In her daydreaming she hardly noticed her next suitors approach. "Hello?" the deckhand said. She turned to regard him. She felt a little shamed, her eyes lowering reflexively. This man was nothing but a young roustabout, but now he was very much her better. His eyes looked pained. "I don't really want to take you, a former lord and all ... it must be terrible being reduced to this." Reminded of her disgrace, she sighed. "I can go..." he said. Still she found herself concerned that this young lad might be punished for failing to obey the ship wide order to take her. She decided to make it easy for him. "Stay," she pulled his draw string loose and her hand slipped into his trousers. It was not really an act. She wanted him, her bodies needs combining with the nectar to defeat her former male instincts. She gripped his manhood in her delicate fingers and felt it stir despite the deckhands intent. Her hand slid up and down its length, her own arousal growing as it hardened. She saw lust growing in his eyes. Lust for her body. She liked that. It excited her. Evoking desire in this man made her moisten all the more. "Yes," he grunted, "I want you." She smiled in content. She obediently turned to allow him access, wet with yearning desire for the large member she had been handling. All too easily , her submissive tendencies overmastered her. He slid into her gently. She responded eagerly, playfully pushed back with her hips. It felt so natural to be taken like this. She moaned as she felt her sensitive moist folds enveloping him till his balls dangled in the void between her thighs. She had once been proud of her manhood, but she found it turned her on immensely to look past her lovely jiggling breasts and see a firm shaft nestled in her mound. The deckhand's thrusts sped up and her body began to tremble as he rode her to humble submission. On her hands and knees she looked about her cage, her eyes swimming as she swooned. She wore not a rag, as a slave ought not and it was right. Her firmly rounded ass was high in the air. Her full breasts bounced with each mounting thrust. Her large nipples throbbed tenderly at his fevered touch. Her juices started to flow in hot crystalline spurts. She felt herself reaching a climax, her pussy muscles throbbing and milking him of his seed. And then he came, filling her womb with warmth and contentment. In his tight sweaty embrace, his hips shivering against her backside, she felt totally his, a thrall to his desire. His penis slide out of her and a thrill ran up her spine. She whimpered as she realized that she had almost ignited. She certainly felt like a slave and longed obey to this strangers every command, but she still had to prove her innocence. "Thankyou," he said then left. Past Perfect Using his wife's Stacy's inheritance Steve had developed the Temporal Mind Transference Device (TMTD) in his home lab. For his first test Steve had chosen the famous Shah Fahduhl, 1239 AD, India. It had been a rather simple matter to take over the Shah's muscular body and he had spent a very memorable week sampling the Shah's nubile harem girls. His favorite was Leeta, a dusky beauty willing to satisfy his every whim and he had many whims to satisfy. Returning to the present he was pleased to discover that no time had passed. That night he told his wife of his success, omitting the finer details of his temporal indiscretions. After all HE had not slept with the girls, the Shah had, The next day he enthusiastically used the machine again, setting the time period for another week. However to his surprise he found himself not in the Shah's body, but Leeta's. "I suppose you think yourself quite clever," the Shah noted as Steve examined her beautiful new body. "Steve..." "Stacy?" Steve gasped, her voice high, and not just with surprise. The Shah nodded and smiled. "I have yet to decide how long I'll leave you back here... certainly not the week you had intended," he said as he approached, "there are just some things that cannot be forgiven. Although if you beg I might consider it." Stacy pushed her to her knees and opened his gown, a confident smile on his face. On the floor Steve looked up at her former wife, her mouth only inches from his manhood. Steve would have shied from the thought of giving a head-job to a man before. But given the circumstances it seemed stupid to resist Stacy. As a woman the idea did not seem so wrong. "You like that? Hardly a surprise. I saw what you did to this insatiable little slut. You're a prisoner to her desires now." Stacy looked down curiously. He had given head as a woman before, but up until now he only imagined how nice it would be. "Suck me, girl," he ordered, surprised at how natural the command was now. As Steve's warm mouth encircled his head, Stacy felt his knees buckle and he staggered a little. It was better than he had imagined. It was quite difficult at first but by the response she was getting from Stacy she knew her master was enjoying it. In response Stacy reached down and played with the slavegirl's sensitive nipples and breasts. Steve enjoyed the sensation of Stacy playing with her. As Stacy fondled her breasts and Steve occasionally teased her new clit, and this increased her desire for his manhood. Steve continued to pump and suck Stacy's manhood, the activity coming natural in her new slavegirl body. Then Stacy sagged down and groaned. The first spurt of cum filled her mouth with salty warmth. Stacy gasped and sighed then began to squirm as the pleasure became almost painful. He pushed Steve away from his member. "Enough girl," he ordered as he wiped his hand on her breasts. "So, do you forgive me?" Steve asked, fighting to keep the tremor of desire from her voice. "Not yet. But we have a lifetime for you to make amends." There was a foreboding finality to his words that made Steve moist between the legs. Past Perfect Again Biff fought the shock of finding himself suddenly in a buxom female body. He - no she held her tiny hand in front of herself in horror. Then she looked down at her body, her hands going fearfully to her new and very full breasts encased in a near see through halter. She could feel their weight and by touching them she knew they were real. Even her nipples were different, much bigger and sensitive than before. Biff paused, a sudden thought flashing through her dazed mind, her hands moving down to her crotch to find a clit ring protruding from her new and quite large clit. She really was a woman, a woman in a harem outfit! Like some Arabian slave girl. Moments before Biff had been looting the scientists lab. He'd found what he thought was a virtual reality helmut and put it on. Now this. Not virtual. Real. And the room was different. It felt like another place, warmer, different smells, strange sounds. The clothes were all hand made and there was not a hint of modernity - possibly another time. But where and when? It hardly seemed to matter at the moment. Biff pulled off her silken garments, letting her ample breasts swing freely in the air. This was amazing! She was beautiful. Her body screamed sex. "From your wallet, I suppose your name is Biff?" Biff turned to the large muscular man regarding her. "It's 909 AD. We're in a Turkish harem. My harem. If you hadn't been trying to rob me I'd be inclined to let you go. However that isn't an option. The man came forward and cupped Biff's large soft breasts. "Now girl, strip!" At the command she shrugged of the remaining skimpy clothes she was wearing. At his command she lay down on the carpeted floor, naked. The man started to play casually with her pussy, confident in his mastery of her. Biff found the man's attention erotic, her new body affecting her far more than she would have ever expected. This mans attentions were making her more than excited. She reached forward and found his hardening penis. She stroked it, then laying back she spread her dusky legs. Her moist new sex was hot and eager. "You want this?" the man asked. Biff nodded. As the head of his penis began to push against the lips of her pussy her arousal was complete. His cock pushed deep into her wet cunt. The new pleasure of being filled as a woman overtook her mind. At that moment Biff forgot all about her concerns about being a woman. She was lost in the joys of sex as a woman. She moved instinctively, rocking back and forward with his thrusts. She begged and gasped for more. In her hedonistic pleasure she lost herself completely and succumbed to her new feminine role. "You know, you're a natural at this. I think I'll leave you here for good..." he muttered as he came deep within her. Reality Hacker Evan Hirek, Minister of Agriculure was a large proud man in his late forties. His eyes burned with anger but showed no fear. "What is the meaning of this!" he stated as he struggled against his bonds. Lord Gultas snorted, "you are going to get a taste of your own medicine," he licked his finger and twirled his moustache. "What do you mean?" "You're going to be the lap dog you intended your wife to become." "Lap dog?" he asked hesitantly. "Well bitch to be precise." Gultas paused and turned slightly, "I see your husband prefers petite, well endowed blondes, Belinda?" "Yes, he does," Hirek's wife noted icily as she slinked into the room. She embodied the physical qualities just mentioned, having undergone extensive physical modifications by various reality hackers at her husbands bidding. "But it seems he likes his woman vacuous." "Belinda! What are you doing here?" Hirek asked. "Getting you before you get me. " "What? I love you! You're my wife! I'd never hurt you." Hirek stated with the practiced sincerity of a politician. "Don't dare try to deny it!" she stated archly, "I know what you had planned for me. You were going to have Gultas do a little `mental' number on me! After I've been doing your job from behind the scenes for years I can't believe you have such little respect for my intelligence. Your days of ruling the roost are over. It's time I stepped up to my rightful place and you stepped down. " He sneered. "What do you intend to do then?" "Remember how Kotan Wute, the Director of Education told you about the services Gultas offers?" Hirek looked puzzled. "No. I don't know what you're talking about," he said, still lying through his teath. In truth he'd heard rumors for some time that many of the upper parliamentarians had paid a mind hacker to turn their wives and mistresses into brainless sex toys. Kotan had approached him to join their prestigious club, explaining that for the right price the hacker would remold his wife's mind. That was precisely why Hirek had contacted Gultas. "Well let me tell you what's really going on. Most of the upper parliamentarians have met with Gultas, and Gultas has made them into their idealized sexual partners. That vacuous little thing the director calls a wife is really Kotan Wute." "What?" Hirek cried. "You can't do that! That kind of reality hack is not possible." Gultas grinned. "Oh, I assure you, I can!" enacting a reality hack. The process was mercifully quick and painless. Hirek was enveloped in a fine glowing mist, his form seemed to fade and blur for a flickering moment before solidifying again. What stepped hesitantly forward in no way resembled the Minister of Agriculture. Gultas grinned as the tiny yet curvaceous blonde looked at her naked form, not with utter horror as one would expect, but amazement tinged with a slight hesitance. Clearly she was a little confused by the change. He noted with appreciation that the transformed was just as voluptuous as her wife. In fact she was now the spitting image of her wife. "Dear god, I am a woman!" she said. Gultas chuckled to himself, relishing his almost godlike power. It never ceased to astound him the way they responded. He briefly wondered what it would be like to find himself stripped of his manhood and thrust into the perspective of a delectable girl. He suppressed a shudder of fear. He doubted it would be pleasant, despite how they always seemed to enjoy it. The mental conditioning which accompanied the physical change ensured that the victim was acclimatized to their new form. Time would reinforce that. Hirek would discover that she was illiterate, but she still retained her past memories and a semblance of her intelligence. This was required so that she was not a completely wasted resource. She would also discover her bodies needs and desires were overwhelmingly female, something her wife was going to help her with as soon as she underwent her transformation into a man. "So I'll be comfortable being a man?" Belinda asked Gultas. "I'm not particularly interested in women after all." Gultas nodded. "You'll remember being you, but your drives and needs will be subtly changed to align with your new body." Belinda nodded as her body wavered and blurred. A moment later he was inspecting his newly minted masculine rawness. He held up powerful hands and clenched them into fists, his knuckles cracking. He ran a hand over his bristled cheeks. The texture was utterly different, yet it felt right. He reached down between his legs to feel the flux augmented member which was strangely familiar yet alien to him. His eyes rose and narrowed mischievously. "Right then Belinda!" the new man growled, feeling his loins stir. He had been mentally conditioned to accept the change, but nothing quite so extreme as his new wife. He really just wanted his own back. And he was going to take it. Making a Slave The needle loomed with fearful peril, the slaver grinned cruel and feral, and with that one swift prick I bad farewell to my dick, and knew soon I'd be a damsel. My fear I could hardly quell, as I watched my chest verily swell, and before frightened eyes, I gained creamy thighs and the form of a lusty bombshell. When the serum had finished its work, new fancies in my mind did lurk, for my desires did mesh, with the shape of my flesh, and this in no way did me irk. The slaver did like what he saw and he commanded me down to the floor. As a slave I obeyed, wanting to be laid, like naught but a common Ruk whore. His manhood at my lips did he nestle, my mortar to his mighty pestle, he gripped my soft tits, and I moaned in wild fits, as he ground into my moist vessel. Like a caged bird my lusty heart fluttered, as he pounded my cunt moistly buttered, with many a giggle and most womanly jiggle, like a natural slut I raptly rutted. Krazy Kez. Kaz climbed from the interceptor and whistled for Dogmeat. "Here boy." She ran her eyes over the fiery inferno of the first Chud car then walked carefully towards the second battered and crashed enemy car. She was glad that no matter how weak her body had become she retained her lightning quick reflexes behind the wheel. These skills had saved her pretty skin more times than she could remember. "Maybe it will have some gas," she said hopefully. The wind howled and broken glass crunched beneath her high heeled leather boots as she approached. The road warrior checked the occupants. A pair of dead, mutated Chuds, bandages wrapping their radiation burned faces. She swore. Just once she'd like to see a human face. Feel the touch of a human hand. The press of a human body against hers. A sheet of sweat broke out over her breasts and she forced her urges down. Driving endlessly through the radioactive wastelands took its toll on everyone. For the former police officer, the toll had been greater than any would ever dream. Consant exposure to the irradiated and glazed wastes had caused a unique transformation in the former officer. For Kaz had not always been a woman. The change had been slow and awkward, but she had survived after a fashion. Unfortunately her skin had become hyper sensitive and she was forced to shun clothing, particularly on her sensitive nipples. It didn't matter. Out here there was no one to see. No one human anyway. The transformation, along with the new urges it created, had driven the already fragile psyche of Kaz over the edge. Now she searched the wastelands, fighting C.H.U.D.s for gas, filled with a burning hope that she would find a man. A real man to satisfy her urges. It was a hard, solitary existance. Animal Enclosure "Does looking at fossils give you a boner?" Ted sneered. Phil looked up in time to see Bill lash out and knock his book from his hands. Bill and Ted had taken great pleasure in tormenting their bookish room mate Phil for the last six months. Phil merely smiled calculatingly and picked up the anthropology text he'd been reading. If only they knew what he was working on. Soon they would he promised himself. The shock of waking to find themselves transformed into a pair of voluptuous vixens seemed to leave Bill and Ted mute. But after a few moments of vainly trying to communicate the pair found they could only utter feminine grunts, cries and finally moans. They could no longer talk! Looking fearfully around the pair saw they were in some sort of zoo, an anthropological display at the university. Thanks to the intervention of Phil the pair had been injected with DNA serum which regressed them into their distant, and happily female forebears. The Experiment. The two eerie flashes of green blue light were accompanied by twin thunder claps. This fantastic unleashing of primal energies was followed by a moment of utter disorientation for Dr Brindle. Had it been a success!? He most definitely stood on the receiver pad. As the smell of ozone assailed his nostrils he felt faintly nervous. Something didn't feel right. "It worked!" Dr Kildare, his partner in this project declared. Stepping from the pad Dr Brindle caught himself. His centre of gravity was awry and he quailed at the lighter tread to his step. As he looked down, a horrified gasp escaping his lips and his marrow turning to ice. "Exactly as I planned!" Kildare noted. Brindle looked up into the scientists leering gaze. "As you planned!?" she asked then giggled. She looked down over the alien swell of her chest. Unable to contain her curiosity she pulled back the panties. "Wow!" "Yes..." sinister laughter rang through the basement lab. Kildare approached the woman and led her slowly upstairs. Oddly Brindle felt no need to resist and was taking her sudden transformation rather calmly. She even reached for his belt and he pushed her hands aside with a chuckle making her pout. As she entered her living room above, Kildare went and made a celebratory drink. "Not that you'd be interested, but I decided I wanted all the fame and glory for myself." Brindle smiled as she ran her hands down her sensuous new body. It was true, she didn't care. But she did want Kildare in her. Just thinking about it made her hot and moist. "But you will share in the wealth my dear," Kildare smiled as he watched the woman playing with herself then unbuckled his belt. "Perhaps I heightened your sex drive a little too much. Let's test our little experiment shall we." Android Life "Brace yourself, I'm about to begin copying," the Doc said. Kistov braced himself. The mad Doctor had explained to his prisoner that his mind would be mapped using an Schr"dinger Cation cloud. Kristov struggled briefly then felt searing pain assail him. Then darkness. "Damn Heisenberg's uncertainty principle," the Doc muttered as he stood over the man's body, smoke pouring from its ears. The Doc shrugged. "Can't seem to be able to map the brains neurons without destroying them. Oh well. Time to download then," he typed away on his computer and initiated the data transfer. The Doc approached another body, a female android body, fiber optic cabling leading to her torso input jacks. The Doc removed the cabling and her torso carriage lowered snugly into place, the illusion of humanity complete. She still stood motionless, waiting for the initiation code. "Z-G-0912-G" the Doc said and her eyes fluttered open. She looked at her body, her face showing shock and fear. Then she looked down at her naked female form and gasped. "What -" she paused at her new voice, then continued on, "What have you done master?" she asked. A frown creased her brow. Master? she had not intended to say that! "Well my slave. There is no going back now. Don't worry though. That body is not some lifeless machine. In fact its tactile responses are identical to a human's. And as you have observed I have included some additional programming that will condition your mind to accept this new body and its tasks. You'll find your fate pleasurable, no matter what happens." The Doc beckoned her forward and she came, her breasts swaying from side to side. In a moment her soft yielding flesh was pressed against his body. She melted into him, reveling in the feel of his skin upon hers and the thrill of the libido which was suddenly her master. Under the new programming Kristov found herself to be an eager lover, using mouth, hands and body with abandon. The Doc positioned himself to mount her, sensing that this act was something which would finally make her his slave. She watched with an avid curiosity as he thrust deep within her moist loins. There was a serene expression on her face as she savored the sensation of his slow deliberate movements, and her lashes fluttered spasmodically. Their pace increased, and Krisov filled the room with her fevered cries and moans. Each thrust stroke evoked screams of unchecked pleasure. She was no longer a forced slave but a willing wanton. She moved beneath him in a sweat lathered fury. The programming made her worship to him with her body, wrapping the lithe curves of her arms and legs about his body, the supple muscles of her bottom flexing to meet his desire. The hot moist flesh of her loins took him completely and it felt wonderful. They thrashed upon the ground until they he was spent. But with her artificial body she would never tire of this. The Womb of Shaggoth "What do we have here?" the thaumaturge inquired in the thurified atmosphere of her lab. Drawn by the cold sibilance of her deathly voice Casper stared up at the thaumaturge, his eyes full of unmanned terror. The automatons moaned and she nodded. "I was looking for... an inn." Casper babbled. "Out here in the mudflats of Venice? You're an Inquisitor and you were looking for me!" she snarled. "How many innocents have you killed in your quest to bring back the dark ages?! Your kind seek to enslave and enfeeble the minds of all women! You shall pay for your actions. Throw him into the Womb of Shaggoth," she muttered as Casper cowered on his knees. He fainted in terror as the relentless creatures took him away. Casper awoke in the Womb, a tight pod like structure. He was floating in odd lichen and oozing lumpy scoria. It was warm and the air was humid. It would have been almost pleasant except for the strange smell. Bioluminescence flowed through vein-like fibrils that branched all over the sac. He struggled uncomfortably amongst the sucking, chunky gunk. It was tight and warm - like some devil's womb. He noted odd thallus like outgrowths, accordion like ridged enations and saclike bulges of weird burls on the sac. To his horror he realised that these fleshy tendrils were slowly moving. "Dear god, save me from this evil! Let me live! I shall turn the other cheek. I shall not seek revenge." Casper felt a painful itching upon his chest and began to scratch it absently. He paused when he encountered a weird sensation on his flesh. Filled with bleak dread he pried back his filthy wet robe to examine the swollen skin beneath. He winced at what he saw in that feeble light. His skin was encrusted with flexible pulp and the skin he could see was an unhealthy green pallor. Worst of all his flesh was spongy and soft; was he decomposing? "Oh my god..." Casper cried as he fainted in the muck and murk. Casper awoke again some time later. There was a peculiar tickling sensation in his neck and he reached towards his throat to scratch only to have it peel off in one wet lump. "Oh no. That can't be ..." he said but choked. It was not his voice! It was a female voice! Casper swallowed painfully, feeling a light headed in this humid confines of the pod. There was something happening to him, of that he was certain. He touched where the skin had peeled off his neck and found - healthy soft skin? Not his skin, but not unfamiliar skin either. For though he was sworn to celibacy he knew the sweet touch of a woman. "Oh no. It can't be!" There was convulsive railing of limbs and the Womb of Shaggoth stretched and tore open. A lithe, curvaceous woman spilled free. She took a moment to examine her body. She was beautiful, the type of woman men lusted over. "Now get you away from me!" the thaumaturge ordered flinging the girl some scant harlots robes. Casper walked numbly away, pausing only to struggle into the alien corset and dress. Her prayers had been answered, although not in the way she would have hoped. For now she was a nameless, homeless and penniless waif. She dared not reveal her identity or even use her education for the inquisitions reach was long. Despite her former service they would happily burn her as a witch. The best hope she had at a decent life was as some tavern harlot or Inquisitors woman. She swallowed in fear at her fate. The Hot Gates. Sent out to scout after the retreat of the Persians, Ionodus found a newly erected temple. He entered fearfully through the incense smoke and flickering candle, coming unawares to stand at the heart of the places power; a pentagram chiseled rudely into the stone floor. It was at the moment he realised his peril that he was truck by foul Persian sorceries. Fey dark magics enveloped his flesh and a strangled cry escaped his lips. His cry rose curiously in pitch as he struggled in the throws of the magic. He staggered, his flesh rippling, his barrel chest shrinking then ballooning out into two large soft breasts. He felt the other changes. Changes that made his legs weak with unmanning horror. His whole body shrunk, became softer and rounder. And the curiously pleasurable tickling between his legs told him he was no longer a man! "Submit to me girl!" a voice commanded with eldritch power. Covered in naught but skimpy beads a Persian sorceress loomed with terrible beauty before Ionodus. Her supple naked limbs were pale in the lambent candle light and the veiling incense smoke of the temple. For a moment Ionodus nearly succumbed to that woman, nearly gave herself up totally, but she gritted her teeth and fought off the power of the vile command. "You are strong. No matter. Tell me how to slip by the Thermopylae pass and I shall undo the curse!" hissed the Persian witch. Ionodus gripped her bronze sword fearfully. This was truly a fate worse than death for a Spartan warrior. But her blood boiled in rage and her fear evaporated in that fierce heat. "Betray Sparta!? Then I shall not be a man," Ionodus snarled. Her bronze sword flashed and blood flew. She picked up her grisly trophy and returned grimly to King Leonidas. With each tread her full breasts bounced. She had vowed to defend the Hot Gates with her life, but as her eyes fell upon her king she knew that her fate was no longer that of a man. It worried her not. The Fretful Fighter In the back alleys of teetering Zice, denizens flocked to cruel fights. The brawling was heated and if a man were defeated loss of liberty was his high price. Rye was a brave undefeated, till one match of a win was cheated, The crowd jeering "Ruk", Rye was all out of luck and thumbs down his fate was meted. With delicate curves Rye was soon blessed, flesh soft and yielding when pressed, a gladiatrix maid, with nary a blade, in faux mail by her vanquisher she was dressed. 'Pon the slave block Rye was tearful, but of sex was she truly fearful. Paraded about, she knew without doubt, as a degraded slut she'd soon be most cheerful. And so she continued to fret, till her confliction made her bud wet. This fearful passion, in its own fashion, made her all the more desirable to get. For ten silvers her flesh was sold, to a warrior she knew proud and bold, in bed did they vie, but though she did try, to her manly self she could no longer hold. Master And Slave Young Hrist fell in with the wrong crowd, and too initiation rites was allowed, a game of roulette, his manhood he bet, but with jab large breasts was endowed. In shame did Hrist flee her peers, to laughter and raucous jeers, to be disowned by her house , condemned as a louse, she fled from her family in tears. With not a single place to stay, and condemned with a body risqu?, out on the street, to make ends meet, her new slut-urges she soon did obey. Of the men she happened to screw, by coincidence she found one that she knew, he asked if she was able, to join his pleasure stable, and wear on her ass his tattoo. The offer made her loins moist, as upon his manhood she did foist. she cried her assent, as with thrusting descent, she ignited and she moaned and rejoiced. Banditas The county of Litz was raided, by bandits fierce and degraded, every small village, did they rape and pillage, and all efforts at capture evaded. Wez was a guardsman brave, who the brigands seized to enslave. jabbed in the thigh, he let out a cry, to be cursed with female flesh to the grave Dressed in high heels and corset and by slut urges fiercely beset, Wez' first wanton drinning, by the chief left her grinning, yet her duty she could not soon forget. With her slight neck in shacklings bound, in bondage did she the chief astound, but late one night, she did take flight, after shucking her collar unsound. With the bandits hideout unearthed, her fellow guardsmen had much mirth, ruking each brigand, then making them bend, as common pleasure slaves of no worth. It brought the freed Wez ample joy, to make the chief her own toy, with lash she excelled, and the chief she impelled, to teur her as a reoil most un-coy. Wanted Dead or Alive The outlaw Duke had a price on his head, five thousand gold coins alive or dead, for rustling of cows, and getting in rows, to capture the cur many posses were led. Lone bounty hunters for Duke came gunning, many of whom fell prey to Dukes cunning, and for their reward, they sorely deplored, cause he'd ruk, brol then sell 'em as wenches most stunning. Till one day Duke bit off more than he ought, and found himself by the guardsmen caught, he chose jab over noose, and with ample caboose, pon the slave dock the naked Duchess was bought. At bare back riding did Duchess excel, and at bucking broncos she was a marvel, hogtied and lassoed, like chattel she lowed, and all thoughts of disobedience bondage did quell. The Gangrel God In caverns deep dwelt the Gungrel Horde, queer of cast, feared and scorned, when they stirred, they were seldom heard, and them they took were sorely mourned. In the dead night Quon was abducted, by Gungrel malformed and interbred Kiv took his spear, screwed his fear, an' delved into their caves of dread. Through blighted, nighted labyrinthines, down murky tremblin' shadowed mines, 'til horror he found, in that dark mound, the Gungrel's slave maids cruel confines. There cowered pale, pretty Gungrel lass, freshly ruked with round pertly ass, in whimpered fright did she gasp, for the lurking darkness did surely rasp, with the unwholesome Gungrel god's morass. With heart in throat and screaming mind, Kiv charged in madness, at madnesskind, drove spear in beak, to unholy shriek, and the fiendly beast did its maker find. Kiv grasped crying ruk maid fair, dragged her up caves of despair, into the light the pair took flight, from the foul Gangrel god's bleak lair In his grasp Quon did feel lust. an' 'pon Kiv's fleshy spear she thrust, fear begat passion, in most queer fashion and so to her new form did Quon adjust.