The Games (Part One) free porn video

THE GAMES PART ONE By Nancy Rose Chapter One WHEN I WAKE UP, the other side of the bed is cold. My little brother, Zach, is gone. The bed is a lot colder without him, and also more comfortable. He kicks in his sleep a lot. Sometimes, it's nightmares. Sometimes, it's because he's so full of energy even sleep can't stop him from wiggling around. He's thin and fast, a giggler, a charmer. People like him instantly. I'm bigger, built more to pick up heavy things than to run away from fast things. I don't much like to talk. People think I'm dumb, because people think big people, especially big quiet people, are dumb. I'm not dumb. I listen. I watch. I work. I keep quiet and stay out of trouble. My name is Kip. I'm 25. He is 18, just turned two weeks ago, making him eligible for The Reaping. I figure Zach went to sleep in my father's bed. He does that sometimes, especially after a nightmare. The dark dreams come to him a few weeks before Reaping day. Happens every year. He gets terrified for me, that he'll lose me, that I'll be taken, changed, killed or worse. He dances with happy relief when I return. He hugs me hard, like he might not let go. This year is different. This year he's eligible for the first time. His name will go into the big, black barrel. A hostess will dip her hand into the 10,000 or so slips of paper and pull out the names of the two young men from our state who will be sent to The Manhood Games. I hate the thought of Zach's name being among all the others. I've spent my life protecting the little shit, and now the government might just decide to drag him off and change him. My dad loves Zach more than me. I've known that for a long time. I don't blame him. The kid is loveable. I'm a brute. If this family has a hope, it's with Zach. He is the one who might be selected to the Corporate Class. He would look good in a suit. He could charm the recruiters. He is good with numbers. He doesn't mind people telling him what to do. He has no problem with authority. That seems to be my problem. I hit my teacher in the face because he made a joke about me having the look of a miner and probably the brains of one. His nose bled like a faucet. Guess what job I was assigned after mid-school? Miner. Turns out I'm pretty good at it. It involves the picking up heavy things and swinging them, throwing them or smashing them. I also get to play with dynamite, which is fun. I seem to have a knack for it. I roll out of bed and look around at my small bare room, because just like lottery day for the last 5 years, I know that today could be my last day in this house. Your name gets put into the lottery an extra time for every year. And for every run-in with security forces, you get a few more name slips thrown in as punishment. And to make a few dollars, which everyone who eats needs, they will pay you to add a few more slips to batch. My brother will have his name in once. I'll have my name in 120 times. I'm practically daring them to take me. Good luck to them, if they think they can make me look like anything other than a mountain with arms. "Hey Zach!" I yell. "You dressed yet! It starts in two hours." I walk to my father's room. No Zach. No father. I go to the kitchen. No one there either. "Dad!" I yell. "Zach!" Oh holy shit, the kid didn't take off did he? Runners always get the worst of it. They become mandatory changelings. No game. No chance at savings themselves. They get strapped into the machine and what leaves it is no longer them. The front door opens and they walk in. I'm so happy to see them. I don't show it. It's not my way. I don't smile, but I think about it. Zach is already in his Sunday suit, looking sharp, his longish hair gelled and perfect. He smirks at me. "You are a lucky bastard," Zach tells me. "I'll feel lucky if I come home after The Reaping," I say. "Son, I know the odds are against you this year," Dad says. "So I bought you a present." She strides in on two strong, smooth, tanned legs, her feet in satin heels with pink ribbons around her ankles, tied in bows like on holiday presents. Her pink skirt hugs her hips, impossibly tight. Her pink ruffled silk blouse looks like candy, all shine and sweetness. Her lips are painted the soft color of coral. Her eyes are shadowed with the faded rose of sunset. Her skin has a golden shine, like it's been brushed with gold dust. A cloud of lustrous blonde curls crowns her, a complex construction that sweeps to her right, flowing down her neck and over her shoulder like a waterfall. Around her thin neck is a band of pink leather sealed with silver, there for life. She is a Sealed Sissy. A slave, really, and an expensive one. What she cost my father I can only imagine. How much food will we have to do without for an hour of this whore's time? "I'm Janine," she says in a soft voice that seems to rob me of mine. "I'd like to help you, if I can." "Help him," my father says with a smile, an expression I don't see on him often. "Is that what they are calling it these days?" He has an actual tinkle in his eye. This is a sad, sour man whose life has been a series of painful disappointments, of love lost, of potential wasted. In the presence of this sissy, he is happy, giddy even. This is the power of these creatures. They exist to, are engineered to, are trained to, delight. "No thanks," I say. "I have yet to be selected for The Reaping, and if I am selected, I will deal with it. I don't need help from the likes of you." I didn't mean that to sound insulting, but I don't want to be around this thing. I have never succumbed to their temptations, have never spent my hard-earned money in a pleasure house. I am pure, saving myself for a real woman one day. I will keep my manhood, and will not sell it to the Corporation in exchange for a few moments of pleasure. She walks toward me, close enough for her perfume to gently sneak up my nose and cloud my brain. She is close enough to touch, to hold, to kiss. She is like a magnet, pulling me in. I feel my cock stir in its cage, straining to get out. As an official licensed pleasure giver, she would have the key. It's been so long since it's been out... Stop it! I tell myself. I have to resist. I have to stay pure. Giving into this lust will only lead me to defeat and shame. "Sweety," she says in a voice that could melt ice cubes, "if all you want to do is talk, then let's talk. I won The Manhood Games, so I can at least give you little advice. You can talk without sullying your manhood, can't you?" "No. Please. I just...I can't...Please leave." "Your father paid so much for me," she says, standing even closer to me, whispering in my ear, a voice that seems to speak to a place somewhere deep inside of me. "It's just a chat. You can handle that, a big strong man like you." "Yes," I say, not wanting to. I was thinking no, wanted to say no, but the word yes left my mouth before I could stop it. "Yes, we can talk." "Wonderful," she says and takes my hand, leads me to the back of the house to my bedroom. She closes the door behind us. She locks it. "Would you like to know about The Manhood Games?" she asks. "Yes," I say. "Yes, please." My heart is beating faster in her presence. My cock grows and strains against its cage. I'm not going to let her take it off. If it comes off, I won't be able to resist. But I do want to be in her presence, have her all to myself for a bit. And I do want to know about the games. If I do get picked, there are things she could tell me, things that could help. "Tell me about the games," I say, trying to sound like a man and not a lovesick puppy. It's everything I can do to keep from grabbing her and throwing her down on my bed and raping her. She is made for sex, made to drive men crazy. And she is good at her job. But all I want I is information. I'm not even going to touch her. I will do nothing but listen to what she says. "And nothing else?" she asks in that whisper voice of hers. "No." I stand firm. I am strong. She stands closer to me, whispers in my ear. Her smooth cheek brushes against mine. Her perfume makes me dizzy with desire. "Are you sure you don't want me to take off your cage? Just for a little while?" "I'm keeping myself pure." "Ha!" she laughs and steps away, a smirk on her face. "Pure? Waiting for that real, genetic vagina? How much money do you have saved up for that? You plan on robbing The Company Bank or something?" "No! I would never commit a crime against The Company. I work hard. I'm saving, and eventually I want to earn a wife." "Oh dear," she says. She walks to my bed and sits down, smoothing her skirt underneath her round ass. With her perfect hands and long white nails, she pulls out a thin cigarette and gold lighter. A spark, a flame, the cigarette is lit with quick grace. She draws smoke into her lungs and savors it. She leaves a pink lipstick smudge on the cigarette. Her every movement is like a magic trick. She is fascinating and I can't look away. I try to get ahold of myself. I am going to learn what I can from her, and not touch her, not hold her, not push her onto her back and take her sissypuss. I feel my cock straining in its cage, which hasn't been off for months now. My dad said it would be fine to spend a few dollars every month or so to have it off. Sometimes The Company has a sale on cock releases and hand pleasure at The Satisfaction Store, but I resist. I will remain pure. I will fuck only a real woman, and that woman will be my wife, and she will love me. I just need to earn the right and, of course, the money. "Yes, I would like to know about the games," I tell her, trying to sound strong, firm, masculine, and sexually disinterested. "Just in case, you know, I have to...go." "Well, okay then," she says. "For the money your father paid me, the least I can do is give you a little friendly advice." "Thank you," I say, and mean it. The thought of being selected terrifies me. I've watched the games since I was 8 years old, when it becomes mandatory viewing under penalty of law. No one seems to win the games; some just lose a little less than others. "Let me ask you some questions," she says. "Are you gay at all? Have you ever seen another boy naked and felt a stirring, any attraction at all?" "No, nothing. I like girls." "Have you ever even had your cage off?" "Only at the doctor. When I was 13, I joined the Pure Church." "That's illegal, you know. Unsanctioned religion. Tsk. Tsk." "Are you going to tell?" "Of course not. I'm your property for the next 50 minutes and that means anything said between us or happens between us is privileged. You could confess to murder right now, and I would not be allowed to tell, unlike your unsanctioned Pure priests." "So I've never had it off. So what?" "So I've known hundreds of men, and they are only truly happy when it's off. When it's on, they go back to being owned and controlled, machines whose only purpose is to serve The Corporation." "On or off, what does it matter?" "Until you have it off, until you know how to use it, what makes it hard, what pleasures it brings you, you have no idea who you really are." "And when your cage was taken off, you realized you were a sissy? You let them do this to you? You let them take your manhood?" "Oh God yes, I said, 'yes, take it please!' Is there any pleasure in being a man anymore? When the plague took all the women, it made this world a hell for men. Stupid religious zealots. Bastard scientists." "It was God's punishment." "It was not, sweety. Don't tell yourself that lie. It was religious nuts and corporate scientists who knew there was money to be made from other religious nuts who wanted boy babies instead of girl babies. First, the practice was to abort female babies, or just kill them after birth. Then came the gender-choice drugs." "They were innocent until weaponized by The Enemy." She blew out a long stream of smoke from her pink lips. She looked at me with frustration, the way one might look at a puppy who had just peed on the carpet after being told not to. "This is going to be an expensive history lesson, but your father paid for it, so you are going to get it." "I know my history." "You know what they teach you in school. I know the truth. I've been with a lot of important men, men who love me, who tell me things, who give me things. I never finished school, but I'm more educated than anyone with a high school diploma." "No offense, but aren't you a Sealed Sissy? I thought you were trained to..." "What? You think my brain doesn't work just because I learned how to make cocks hard? Oh please. Just shut up and listen." I sit down on the wooden chair across from her. She is on the bed and I am not going to sit next to her. The sight of her there, God, I know that's how I will remember my room from now on forever, her ass on my blanket, her dainty hand near my pillow, her tall heels touching the spot on the floor that I stand on every day when I roll out of bed. The vision of her will be in this room forever, and her smell would linger for weeks. "Okay, so quick history lesson, which oddly enough, relates directly as to why I'm a sissy, a profession you clearly do not approve of." "I don't judge you, I..." "Shush! Just be quiet and listen. It was 100 or more years ago when some bright scientist got the bright idea to turn the Gender Choice Vaccine into a weapon. He made it a spray, and then he made it viral. He thought it could be sprayed over poor countries in order to battle over population. India, China, Africa, South America...Anywhere where people were starving by the millions, they got the spray." "It was The Enemy, the forces of evil..." "Do shut up. The Enemy doesn't exist. The government made up The Enemy. They needed some secret shadow force to blame for all the evils of the world." "They were defeated and driven out, killed by..." "A myth, a story, a fable, something to tell children at night who need heroes and villains to make the world make sense. Anyway...After a decade or so, the world population did begin to shrink, and then shrink some more. Poverty eased in the poor countries. Men can't make babies, but they can work, and they can be controlled in so many ways when not burdened by wife and child." "You can't tell me this. It's a crime, treason-speech. We could go to jail." "We are in a sanctioned pleasure session and everything said and done here is private. Didn't they teach you that in that school you are so proud of?" "Yes, but still, I..." "Shush! I'm almost done, and then you can ask all the questions you want." "Okay! Okay, okay. Tell me." She blows out a plume of smoke, her lips pink and moist and in need of a kiss. Oh what I would give to kiss her. She has to leave soon. I can't take much more of her. "I'll tell you this," she says. "To win, you have to lose a little of yourself. You don't need to surrender. But if you want to keep your manhood, you need to give a little of it up." "I'm strong. I'll resist. I will be a man." "Honey, the best way to keep your parts, is to let a little of the girl in you out. Be flexible, give against the pressure, bend a little. If you resist, you'll break. You won't be able to take it. No man can. But if you give a little, accept just a little of your feminine side, you might walk out of there with your cock." "I don't want to bend." "Because you are a big strong man." "Because millions of people will be watching. My father, my brother, they will both be watching." "Would you rather that they watch you get your cock get cut off and the winner fuck you in your nice new pussy?" That makes me mad. I feel my face grow red. I ball my fists. "Oh calm down, sweet," she says. "I meant no offense. I really am trying to help. I know I seem like I'm a bitch. I just, well, I just hope you get out of there still belonging to yourself. That's all. You aren't that different from what I was, you know. I was a man. I was prideful. I had muscles, a giant cock." "I thought you said you still..." "Oh I still have that. Not the muscles, but my cock is intact. Some clients like their sissies big. Did you want to see?" "No! No. Sorry. No offense. But no." "Okay sweet. I think you've had enough fun this morning. Any questions before I leave?" "No, I'm good, thanks though, I..." She springs forward and puts her lips right on mine. She slides her hand behind my neck and gently pushed her tongue into my mouth. She tastes sweet, like apples. She smells like a field of wild flowers. I put my arms around her and feel the satin of her blouse, the thinness of her shoulders. She fits nicely into my arms. We kiss, our tongues dancing. My cock strains against the horrid plastic cage. I am almost ready to give in, to let her take it off me so I can fuck her good and hard. It's all I want in this moment. She pulls away from me, he lipstick a little smeared. "And that is to give you something to fight for," she says. "You come back with your cock attached and I'll let you fuck me silly, for free." "I would like that I say," feeling dizzy, almost asleep. "I know you would." She gets up and walks out of the room, her high heels seeming to echo for seconds after the door closes. I lie the for a moments, breathing in her scent, still tasting her on my lips. Then I get up and go see what fate has in store for me. CHAPTER TWO I STAND IN in the crowd of lottery entrants, all of us in our Sunday suits. We stand in silence, lined up like soldiers in rows. My brother is next to me. He's fidgeting. He needs to stop or an Agent will smack him with a shockstick and add his name a couple hundred more times into the barrel. Then the New Woman introduction starts. This is where we get to see the last Manhood Games loser from our state. We know these girls. We all watched them on TV, rooting for them, hoping for them, praying for them, but for our state, we've had nothing but losers for the last ten years. This year's loser is Jasmine. On the screen behind the stage we see pictures and video of what Jasmine used to look like. His name was Jim and he was a fat guy, had acne. He worked in the tech sector, programming computers. He was out of shape and physically weak. He wasn't a good player. It was one of the most depressing games for our state in history. "Jim was a poor excuse for man," a cheerful announcer says. "It was probably for the best that he lost the games. Did we really need another overweight, out of shape technologist? Would any genetic woman want to have this poor specimen's child? I think not!" Then we see highlights from his brief performance at the games. He really didn't have a strategy. He knew he was going to lose. So he made the best of it. The first time a Sealed Sissy arrived he hopped on her and fucked her fast, cumming in about 10 seconds. It was the first time the cage had ever been off his cock. He looked so happy as the agents dragged him off. We haven't seen him for a year now. What would he look like? Would he still be fat? Would he be a plain girl? You could never tell. Sometimes the losers were handsome and yet ugly girls. And then sometimes the losers were homely and as female became beautiful. "Are you ready to meet Jasmine?" the announcer shouts with enthusiasm. The crowd roars, "Yes!" We participants stand silent, pondering our fate. "Then here she is! A new woman ready for the love a good man!" She walks in from the left side of the stage. She waves at us as she walks, he nails long and pearly white. She wears a gold gown, her pudgy legs striding just a little clumsily on five inch heels. She bounces as she walks, ass jiggling. She is a pudgy girl, but cute. Her curves look good on her, the weight making her look soft and kind of adorable. She smiles a nervous smile. I think I can see fear in her eyes, but otherwise she looks cheerful. She stops in front of the microphone. Her lips are cinnamon red to match her cloud of bouncing, shiny flame red hair. She takes a big breath, her eyes wide, and speaks... "Hi everyone," she says in a squeaky high voice. "Good luck with the games. If you get selected, don't you worry at all. It's fun being a girl! It is such an honor to serve The State as a woman with a new pussy and breasts. I'm soooo glad that took my manhood. It's fun being a girl!" She giggles. "And now, to remind you of what happens when you lose, here is my de- flowering," she says, her voice cracking. I think she might begin to cry but she doesn't. She holds her smile, which is beginning to look more like a shiny red grimace. On the screen behind her, we see video of a naked, fat Jim being tied down to a surgical bed by hands wearing latex gloves. A doctor in a green mask places a gas mask over the fat man's face. Jim closes his eyes and goes to sleep. The surgeon, in a blue mask, lifts a scalpel with his right hand and with his left hand holds up Jim's fat, droopy balls. The scene freezes, the scalpel gleaming. We all stare at it. My stomach churns. I don't want that to be me. Please lord, don't let that be me. "That was the day The State gave me the gift of my vagina," Jasmine says with her forced grin. "I'm a starched blouse worker now, working as a receptionist for a big company. I get to wear pretty clothes and I love serving those in the Corporate Class." She sounds like she's reading something from memory. She smiles, but she looks sad. I want to look away but don't. If you break attention, you'll get the shockstick. I look forward and wait. "And now," she says. "Let's see who from Abraham State will take part in the games!" Two black suited agents roll the big black barrel out to her. "Thank you boys!" she says flirtatiously. "Such handsome men!" She is trying to sound delighted, but it doesn't work. She isn't a good actress, but she is trying. A drum roll plays over the loudspeaker. She dips her manicured into the barrel. She roots around for a few seconds, thousands of people staring at her silent. She pulls out a pink card. The drum roll stops. All grows quiet. She looks at the card. "The lucky guy is Zach Miller!" My brother. Oh no. My brother. This can't be. I can't let it happen. CHAPTER THREE I look over at him. He takes a breath, smiles, give me a brave looking, letting me know it's okay. Brave guy. Handsome. Strong. He will make a fine man one day. I can't let it happen. I won't let them take him. He takes a step forward and I yell out without even thinking about it: "I will take his place. I volunteer!" "What?" he asks and looks at me. "Don't! You can't. You don't have to...please..." He's pleading with me...for what? To go to the games? Did he want to go? I'm confused. I don't know what to do. "We have a volunteer!" booms the announcer's voice. "Kip Miller! He is bravely standing in for his brother Zach. Agents! Escort him to the stage!" My brother rushes to me, gets there before the agents do. He wraps his arms around me, hugs me tight. "You shouldn't have done that," he says in my ear, quietly. "I'm already a sissy." I can't believe it. I can't process it. Not my brother. Not my father's son. No. Oh no. What have I done. I let him go and two agents take my arms and guide me through the formation and up to the stage. "You be a man!" I shout at him over my shoulder. "The family needs you to be man!" He hides his face in his hands. He cries. Oh gods, maybe he really is a sissy. He better man up quick, because I might be on my way to losing my cock. I get escorted up on stage. The agents take me to Jasmine. "Oh my!" she says. "Such a big strong boy! You have a lot of masculinity to lose." She runs a finger gently down the side of my face. "I hope you aren't sorry for very sweet sacrifice," she says, and sounds like she means it. I turn and face the crowd. Thousands of faces stare back at me, all men, all workers, all obedient machines working for The State. I do this for them. My manhood is at risk, perhaps sacrificed, so that they can continue to live and hope for a better future. The Manhood Games were established well after The Glorious Revolution. Janine, the sealed sissy whose memory continues to entertain me somewhere in the back of my head, might have a different take. But what I know is what they told me in school. It goes something like this... During The Glorious Revolution, the People's Army was winning. Then The Enemy, the government at the time, used weaponized gender choice drugs. Their goal was to reduce the people's ability to reproduce and to feminize all the men into weaklings who couldn't fight. The drugs were supposed to reduce aggression, along with sperm count. Side effects included breast growth, small penises, and lustful homosexuality. Women wouldn't be affected, but the men would be infertile half-men more interested in fashion than warfare. Then the People's Science Foundation developed what they thought was a cure, a counter to the genetic drug that wasn't tested as much as would have been ideal. We were losing the war, and so they rushed the Manhood Virus into production. They spread it over cities, towns and all populated areas. It was in the water and food, everywhere. It worked, but too well. The men became manlier, stronger, taller, and better warriors. We started winning the war. However, the side effect was devastating. Woman began giving birth to more and more boys. Only one out of every one hundred births was a girl. Then it was one out of every thousand. The People's Army won the war, and won easily. We had supermen for fighters. We had big, strong horny warriors who over the decades began running out of women to fuck. The State, which is the government that The People's Army founded, began The Glorious Discipline. Because it was a world of men, men with extremely high testosterone levels, rules were needed. Sexual outlets needed to be controlled. Violence needed to be focused. Men needed to be men, to have the outlets that a man needs, but controls needed to be in place or we would disintegrate. The Great Scientists, and it's hard to say that without sounding sarcastic, but that's what they were officially called, they made the rules, and the machines and the chemicals, that would save us all. There would be no more mass genetic engineering. That was banned. Trying to fix the entire human race was no longer an option. Too many radical changes could cause too many unpredictable results. The next one might cause an extinction event. Genetic Women, so rare, were to be prized and protected. Marrying a real woman was a privilege reserved for those who earned it. (What that means is the rich and powerful got to marry women, and the rest of the men in the world would go without. I don't mean to speak treasonspeak, like Janine did, but it's the truth.) What to do about all the millions of men who had no mates, no women to love, no vaginas to fuck? They could not be neutered, because neutered males were all but worthless. Not strong enough, not focused enough, not healthy enough to do the work The State needed them to do. To solve that problem, The Great Scientists invented a method of creating sissies, feminized males who could sexually please men. They would never get pregnant, never be able to marry, never want anything other than to satisfy the big strong men they were programmed to lust for. Obviously, there weren't a lot of volunteers, not among the cities made up of strong men. So The State began lotteries, which selected a percentage of men to become sissies, their training beginning in their early teens, when they were taken from their homes and brought to the Sissy Institute. Some states rebelled, including mine. The Treason War was brutal and fast. The State had advanced weapons, guns, shocksticks, sleepgas. We had our mining tools. So, to remind us to be obedient men and ever thankful to The State for providing all we need to live in exchange for a fair day's work, The Manhood Games were invented. Each of the 20 rebel states, every year, are required to send two contestants to the games. All competitors goal is to hold onto their masculinity while also trying not to orgasm. In the games, when a man cums, he loses. He is taken away and turned into a Breeder, like Jasmine. You see Breeders are men who have been given the parts of a woman. They get pregnant, and in fact, are trained to want nothing more. Their babies are taken from them at one year old and sent to The State Glorious Education Facility. When not making babies, they work in designated feminine roles, secretaries, receptionists, baby sitters, and the like. Making children is expensive, and my father paid a lot to sire my brother and I. We never met our mother, but she was Breeder, just like I might be turned into. My father was building a family to be proud of. And now I will likely be taken from him, turned into a feminized baby making machine. Zach needs to hold up, needs to be a man. I took the stage waited for the next name to be called. Who would be my partner on this horrible adventure? Jasmine reached into the barrel and pulled out another name. "Dirk Johnson," she said. "Come on down! You are the next player in The Manhood Games!" Chapter Four I hate Dirk Johnson. He's taller than me, stronger than me, and thinks he's just God's gift to the world. He's a machine tech and thinks he's better than me just because I work in the mines. In fact, everyone who doesn't work in the mines thinks he's better than the men who work in the mines. But Dirk takes it to a whole new level. He's teased me since general school, beat me in every sport, and beat up on more than on occasion, him and his buddies, his gang. They like to call themselves The Kings. Well, the bastard just might be a queen in a few weeks. It would serve him right. He struts up to the stage like he owns it, like this is his own personal show. Dark hair artfully tussled. He nods and smirks to friends of his as he walks through the formation. The agents who escort him trail behind, like they are his honor guard or something. He springs onto the stage, taking the stairs two at a time. He strides over to Jasmine, grinning. And Jasmine grins back. Her training is being triggered by this male show of confidence. "Sup, babe," Dirk says to her. "Why hello there," she says and blushes. She holds out her hand and he takes it, kisses her fingers like he's a prince in fairy tale. "Hope I get lucky today, babe," he says. "We'll have to see," she says in a wispy voice. She sways a little, like she's dizzy. The announcer's voice booms: "And there they are, your noble representatives in The Manhood Games! Kip Miller and Dirk Johnson!" Jasmine takes my hand and lifts it along with Dirk's hand. We are supposed to look triumphant. We are supposed to look proud to represent our state. I look at the TV monitors and I just look dazed and confused, a deer staring into a light. Dirk looks happy. It's his moment. He really does look happy. The crowd erupts in cheers. Our fathers, our brothers, a few women here and there, the wives of the state leaders, the plant directors and the nurses at the medical center. "Young men of State 13, you owe a debt to Kip and Dirk. You retain your manhood for another year. Salute your heroes and give them your thanks." The formation of men who could have been contestants break attention and begin clapping in synch, big loud booms, ten of them. Then they return to attention, staring ahead, feet together, arms down, feet together. Tonight they will almost all be drunk, celebrating, their luck and toasting me and Dirk. Some of them will spend what little money they have to have their chastity sleeves removed and fuck a sealed sissy. Lottery day always a busy day at the sissy house. Of course, right now, there is one more thing to do. The de-flowering. "Okay Jasmine," the announcers says. "You know what happens now. It's time for you to show us all the woman you've become, and to give one of these contestants something to remember" She freezes, her smile looking more forced. "Who do you choose to deflower you?" the announcer asks, his voice dripping in anticipation. She looks at me, then at Dirk, then back at me. I am supposed to want to do this. It's meant to be an honor. It could be my last chance to have vaginal sex as man. I'm supposed to want to prove to the world how strong my masculinity by fucking this transformed breeder on national TV. I shake my head, slightly, hoping it's not send. I don't want her. I want to stay pure a I go into this. She turns back to Dirk, who smirks at her. "You know you want it," Dirk says. "Just pick me and let's do it." She looks toward the crowd, and then into the camera. She is smiling but a single tear drops from her left eyes. She couldn't hold it back. There is still some man in her, still fighting to show himself. "I choose Dirk!" she says. "Woooonderful!" the announcer says. "We look forward to seeing you become fully a woman. May you be blessed with your first baby." Bullet dodged. I breathe a little easier. "And with that," the announcer says, "We conclude today's lottery ceremony. Young men, you are released for another year! Enjoy your manhood!" The formation of young men all at once lift their hands and place them over their hearts. This is the silent protest. It started five years ago and has become a tradition. It is a sign of solidarity. The State can't do anything about it. If they outlaw a simple gesture, another would take its place. If everyone does it, every time, then who would the put in jail, everyone? So the agents ignore it. I nod my thanks to them. Agents walk up to us and escort us off the stage, Jasmine trailing behind Dirk and I. "Be ready for me, bitch," Dirk tells her. "I'm going to make you glad you have that pussy." "The cameras are off," I tell him. "You don't need to be an asshole." "I'll be fucking you one day to," Dirk says. "Just wait. When I'm ready to breed a son, I'm going to pick you. Maybe I'll even give you twins, one for each big tit." I lunge at him. The agents hold me back. If it weren't for them, I would beat him to death. Agents pull his hands behind his back, and cuff his wrists. "You want to fight?" Dirk says. "We're going to have plenty of time." Agents cuff me as well, twisting my arm behind my back until it hurts. I'm bigger than all four of these agents. In a fair fight, I would twist them into broken bones and bloody meat. My hands twitch just thinking about it. "You dumb asses know you are supposed to work together, right?" says a feminine voice behind right behind us. I know that voice. There she is, in all her pink satin glory. Tight skirt. Frilly blouse. High heels with ankle straps and bows. Pink, glossy lips. Janine. "I'm going to be your advisor," she says. "Joe couldn't make it this year. He had a bit of an illness, and by illness, I mean he drank himself into a stupor this morning." "What?" Disk says. "No way. I don't want a Sealed Sissy. I want a real man!" "Would you like to see my cock?" Janine says. "I'm all man, and I did win this stupid game." "It's not fair, damn it, it's not fair," Dirk says, his shell of confidence broken for the first time. "Hi Janine," I say. "I'd love to have your help. Just let me know what to do. And by the way, you look amazing today." "Thank you, baby," she says. "I knew I liked you." The advisor's job is to coach the entrants, get us ready for the games, and then help us during the event where possible. The advisors were almost always former winners, and if none are available, then the job falls to a Breeder who did well. In this case it fell to a sealed sissy, which is extremely rare. As a winner, she could have chosen to be male, to live among the rich as a celebrity. Instead she chose sissyhood. And now she has chosen to help us. I'm glad it's Janine. I liked her, and was glad to see her. So was my cock. It strained in its cage. TO BE CONTINUED Hi! I hope you enjoyed this story. It has been very fun to write! If you'd like to chat, you can like me on Facebook at... https://www.facebook.com/nancy.darkrose You can also read my full length novella The Trainer here... http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DZ3396Q