The Games (Part Five) free porn video

THE GAMES PART FIVE By Nancy Rose (NOTE: If you haven't read Parts One, Two, Three and Four you really should! Part One is here... http://fictionmania.tv/stories/readtextstory.html?storyID=1375656832954400151) Chapter Sixteen I AM CRYING. I cried all night, and yet it seems there are tears more tears within me. I cried myself to sleep. Strange dreams haunted me. Then I would wake up, remember what had happened, and I'd cry myself back to sleep. I was so sleepy. All I wanted to do was sleep, but when asleep, I couldn't stay there. I cannot remember anything about the dreams that woke me. I remember the emotions, but not what was causing them. I felt deep, aching sadness, then fiery rage, then lust, then pure joy that made me laugh and laugh like I might laugh forever. I am exhausted, still sleepy, but sleep will no longer come. It is early morning. All is quiet and dark. I'm in a bed with a firm mattress, clean sheets and a thick blanket. My bed at home sagged in the middle and the sheets were so thin you could practically see through them. I would sometime wake with a back ache and sleep on the floor instead, which wasn't comfortable, but my back seemed to like it. When it was cold, my brother would crawl into bed with me. It's not unusual for brothers to sleep together for warmth. If I had this bed at home, I would not have needed the heat of another person. The bed seems so much bigger than it did last night, but it's not. I'm smaller. I wonder how my brother is doing, how my father is doing. My nipples hurt, like they are being pinched. My cock is in its cage, tingling in a way it never did before. It's a new cage, a smaller cage, as big as the one I wore when I was ten and was first fitted. I cry again. I can't stop. I'm sobbing. Why can't I stop all this crying? I know I have girl hormones in me now, but girls don't run around crying all the time, do they? "Shhhhhh," she says. Janine is at my bed side once again. She has been watching me all night. Every time I wake up, she gets into bed with me, holds me, tells me that everything is going to be okay and lets me drift back to sleep. "Are you hungry?" she asks. I think about it for a moment, and yes, it seems I am, very, very hungry, as a matter of fact. "Good," she says. "The changes you have been through, they burn energy. Once you eat, you will feel much better." "Why can't I stop crying?" I ask, tears still welling in my eyes. "Oh sweety, girl juice does that," She says. "Soon your system will adapt, and it you'll be used to your new emotional sensitivity." "My what?" I ask and burst out with more blubbers and sobs. I bury my face in the pillow. I don't even understand what she said, and yet it made me heart wrenchingly sad. "Sweety, you need to start getting a grip," she says. "I promise to keep telling you the truth, but I'd like you not to melt into a puddle of tears every time I tell you what's going on. Okay?" I will try. I try to stop my sobbing. I take a deep breath. I wipe my eyes. I remember feeling like this a long time ago, when I was a little boy. I remember crying when my father went to work, leaving me alone. I remember how monumental that fear was, and deep the sadness of being away from him was, of being alone. I remember crying so much that I would fall asleep exhausted lying just inside the front door, like a dog curled up and waiting for its master. I am an adult now. She is right. I need to get myself together. I am still a man, less of one, but still a man. I can do this. I can have a conversation without exploding into tears. I laugh at myself. "That's better," she says. "Laughs are always the best cure for tears." "I will try not to cry. Just tell me what's happening to me." "Well, you got a double dose of feminizer. That's a lot to take. I never had more than one, and that first one still had me weeping like a little girl. Taking two at once, well, I am just happy you can even speak." "These, changes, can they be reversed?" "Of course sweety. What science can change, science can change back. You'll be a man again, a big strong man, if you want." "What do you mean 'if I want?'" "Never mind. I'm sure you'll want to go back to being manly. That was a silly thing for me to say. I'm just a silly sissy. You should remember that when I say something stupid." "What happened to you? Why did you choose to, you know...I'm sorry. It's none of my business." "Why did I choose to become a Sealed Sissy, a feminized whore for hire, an object of both lust and ridicule?" "You won The Games. You could have gone back to being a man. You would have been rich. You could have married a genetic girl even." "It's a long story. If you eat all your breakfast and promise not to cry, I will tell you my tale. Deal?" "Yes, Janine" "Sissy, sweety. Call me sissy or Sissy Jany. All sissies like to be called sissy. It's part of our training." "Yes, Sissy Jany, I'd like to hear your story... Chapter Seventeen MY MALE NAME was Jim, Jim Meyers. I came from a farm family, from State 17, which has no interesting features other than endless planes covered in golden wheat. I was the eldest brother of 12. It's normal for farm families to be big. The more brothers, the more workers, and farms need a lot of work. Because I was the oldest, I spent the most time with my father. I was well on my way to taking over the family farm, and was quite serious about expanding our holdings. Our farm was always the most productive in the state, and the most profitable. For regulars, we were becoming rather rich. We could afford good food, decent clothes, and schooling. The hired workers and some of the people in town resented us for what we had, but we worked hard, were a little lucky, made some smart deals, and earned everything that came into our house. My father was friends with quite a few richies, especially the government officials who benefitted greatly from our farm's success. One of those officials had a daughter, a genetic girl, born from the most beautiful breeder you have ever seen. I was 18 and she was 17. I was lucky enough to attend a social event my father was invited to. The girl came to me. I was too scared to talk to her. I was the first regular she had ever talked to. She was curious. We...well...I will speed up the story. We fell in love. I think it was a matter of opposites attracting. She hated richie boys, their arrogance, their sense of entitlement. She found me exotic in a way. I was a simple man from a simple family, but I was smart, and full of morals, such a sense of right and wrong I had back then. Not very different from you, Kip, my sweet. I was naive, sweet and full of noble ideas. In her world, I was as rare as a unicorn. We met in secret over the course of a year, after school, after work. We would sneak out late at night, meet in the barn on my farm, make love, and then head back to our homes before morning. It was the best year of my life. You probably have never been in love, poor Kip. Let me tell you, it's a pain in the ass. You will sacrifice anything just to be in the presence of the person you love. You will take risks, stupid risks. The need in you grows so deep, so achingly deep inside of you, that you would rush into a flaming house or dive off of a cliff if it meant just getting a few minutes with the love of your life. To this day, even though I haven't seen her for years, the thought of her makes my heart speed up. Even my clit, which no longer gets hard for anything other than manly man cock, still stirs when I think about her, despite the year of sissy training and mind fucking I've been through. That's love Kip. It's painful madness, and I was as crazy as they come. Then I was selected in the lottery. I've always wondered if it was rigged. The mayor pulled out the names, and the mayor was a lackey of my girlfriend's father. When I heard my name, I almost collapsed. We had been planning on eloping. For months we had been planning our escape and our secret wedding at a little town to south, over the border. We thought that if we married, then her family would eventually accept me, maybe even help to pay for my education. I was smart enough for the university. I could have worked my way into the corporate or government classes. My name was called and she screamed. You could hear her voice everywhere in the town square. She went into hysterics and started hitting her father, who was looking over the event from a luxury box over the square. His security detail had to drag her off. Her father looked on, not a speck of emotion on his face. The next day, I considered running. The death penalty seemed like a small risk. I didn't want my one chance at love to get away from me. And of course I didn't want to get my dick cut off and have it replaced with a pussy. I'm sure you can relate. My father knew what I was thinking. When we met, before I went off to the pageant, he told me he would make sure I would win. He would sell the farm. He would borrow money from his richie friends. We would pull it off. He would buy me a win. I believed him. So instead of planning my escape, I planned to win. During The Games, every time I thought I would get a gift that would help preserve my masculinity, I'd get the opposite. I would get sissy prizes. Shoes. Lingerie. Hair remover. Make up. Wigs. False breasts. I didn't know what my father was up to. It was crazy, but I also knew he was getting help from a professional Games consultant. I figured they had a strategy and knew how to win. I would have rather received gifts that helped me be more of a man. Hormones. Protein. Weapons. I would have liked my path to winning be all about muscles and combat victories. Instead, when my first gift came, a tube of lube and a pair of pink high heels, I realized my father had another idea about how I should win. I figured I could be a little girlish. My girlfriend wouldn't mind. She would probably laugh about it. And I could win that way. By being a girl, I could definitely win. Once I made that decision, it was almost easy. I was with a bunch of macho muscle heads who kept trying to beat each other up. It was a violent Games that year. I just let them duke it out. They didn't mess with me. They almost treated me like a girl, figuring I'd at some point welcome giving up my manhood. And once someone was strapped down into a submission chair, I'd stroll in all dressed up and sexy. A few strokes with my hand, using that lovely tube of lube I was gifted, and bloop, another loser lost. Toward the end of The Games, about a month into the contest, I was constantly dressed as a girl. After a lot of practice, I was getting good at makeup. I was sleeping in a pink room and whatever they do to you in there was working. I was growing breasts, getting thinner, and my ass was getting bigger. I still looked like a guy, but a pretty guy, very thin, very effeminate. The other two contestants at the end were brutes. They had been taking male hormones and doing a lot of weight lifting. They were monsters. They were also every evenly matched. The show was getting boring. The stalemate wasn't resulting in conflict, and the producers love conflict. So they began gassing us with aphrodisiacs, making us even hornier than we already were. I had to keep my cock in a pair of tight panties at all times. I would ice it down to make it soft, and then tuck it. Otherwise, it felt like one little touch and I would shoot like a cannon. So there I was, this mincing silly sissy in high heels, lingerie, make up, and her cock tucked away so she had a flat front in her panties, just like a girl. The guys fought over me. It was almost flattering. One guy, George, almost killed the other guy, Sam. While Sam was knocked out, bleeding on the carpet of the living room, George didn't do what I thought he was going to do. He didn't lock Sam into a submission chair and force me to use my feminine charms to rub him off. No, instead George ran at me, picked me up, and carried me into his bedroom. He wasn't even human at his point. He was an animal. He tore off my panties, tearing them to shreds. He lubed his cock with the lube my father had gifted me, and then he fucked me. I didn't resist. I was horny too, and I wanted it, needed it. Whatever they were putting into my system made me want to be fucked. But I didn't just want to cum. I still wanted to win. I wanted to go home and go back to being normal. George came in me, filled me up with his cum. I felt like there was a gallon of it. My asshole ached and burned, but I felt victorious. With my ass full of his milk, I knew I was one step closer to going home, and going home with my cock. Then the hunger hit me. What had just happened to me, that big cock pounding my ass, filling it full, it changed me. I wanted more. I was horny, but I didn't want to fuck, I wanted to be fucked again. I needed cock and I needed it right then. I never felt anything like it. It was the exact opposite of what I had always felt in all my life as a boy and then as a man. As a man, I hungered to be on top, to take a female, spread her legs, get on top, and fuck her pussy until she moaned in ecstasy and I came into her. Oh yes, I was a very typical young man, young, dumb and full of cum, as they say. What fever took me that day, that desire to be filled with a cock, that was a very different feeling indeed. I wanted a man to be on top of me, a big man, an aggressive man. I wanted him to want me so much that wild horses couldn't drag him away from me. I wanted to feel him take me, overpower me, throw me down and take me. In that hot moment, that is all I wanted in the world. Nothing else existed, not my girlfriend, not my family, not my hopes and dreams...all that was left was the need to be fucked, to be soft, willing, open, desired and taken. I went back to the room where Sam was. He was just waking up, shaking his head, trying to get right. I went to the bathroom, tidied up my hair, adjusted my lingerie, and sprayed a bit of perfume (another gift from my father) between my breasts. I applied a deep red lipstick, and touched up the blush on my cheeks. I still looked a bit disheveled, but good, I looked pretty good for a part girl, part guy. I approved. I grabbed a white towel, ran some hot water over it, and headed back to Sam, my heels clicking on the floor. I remember that sound, walking through that hallway, willingly going to a man to try and seduce him, tempt him into fucking me. I leaned down over him, making sure he got a good look at my breasts in my pretty bra, making sure he got a whiff of my perfume. I gently patted the cut on his head with the hot, wet towel. I cared for him, made him feel mothered. I called him strong and told him how brave he was. He sat up and I leaned into him as I cleaned him. The cut in his scalp was only skin deep, and it stopped bleeding after I put just a bit of pressure on it. He told me how sick he was of The Games, how much he just wanted to go home. I ask him if he had a girlfriend waiting for him, and he said yes. I asked him if he missed making love to her, and he said yes. I asked him if he missed being touched. He said yes. I ran my hand down his muscled chest, enjoying how hard he felt, how big and how strong. I let my hand run over his cock, a big piece of meat, heavy and plump. I knew it would hurt going in. I didn't care. I wanted it. He asked me what I was doing. I said I wanted to make him feel better. His cock stood straight up, 8 inches at least. He lied down on his back, and I climbed on top of him. I told him he didn't need to cum. In fact, if he made me cum, he would win The Games. All he had to do was fuck me. I asked him if he wanted to fuck me, and he said he did, very much so. I felt so powerful right then. In my feminized state, I was physically much weaker, and yet I was so much stronger. I slipped out of my panties and let my clitty free. I lowered myself onto his cock. I was raped the first time I was fucked, an unwilling acceptor of male aggression. This time I was the aggressor. This is what I wanted. I was in charge. He slid into me easily, as I was still full of lube and cum, already stretched open. I rode him up and down, loving the sensation. His eyes looked amazing, so full of pleasure, and happiness. He needed this. Every cell in his male body and male brain was telling him that it was good and right and perfect to finally have his cock in a tight, wet hole. I rode him, slowly at first, then faster, then a little faster. I wanted to feel him fill me. I knew what I was doing, knew he if he came, he would soon be a breeder, filled with a baby and tits full of milk. I was destroying him, and I didn't care. I wanted what I wanted. He moaned and then yelled. It was like he was in pain. I could feel his cock pulsing in me, pumping me full, breeding me. He gave a such a long, intense release. The poor man. He needed that cum so much. I lied down on his chest, and he was nice enough to wrap his big arms around me. I told him I was sorry. He said it was okay. It was worth it. The chimes chimed suddenly agents and newts were everywhere. An agent took George off to be transformed, and the newts took me to the Victory Suite. I showered, then slept for hours. When I woke, I found clothes in the closet, male clothes. I put them on. They fit oddly, the pants too tight around the hips, and the shirt too tight in the chest. Ah well, I thought. A few treatments with the nanos and I'd be right as rain. I'd be all man again in no time. I wanted to see my girlfriend, my fianc?e. That's all I wanted. It was over. We could move on with our lives. We would get married and have babies and live happily ever after, just like they did in the vids. She didn't want to see me, according to my father. My father, he told me everything. He told me that it was all for my own good. His friend, the father of my fianc?e, the rich-as-God asshole, he paid for all the gifts. He was the one turning me into a sissy, and my father let it happen. Her father, he wanted the world to see me unmanned and unmade. He knew how I would be broken down, how I would do things to win The Games that no real man would ever do. It was quite clever really. If I lost The Games, then his daughter would be rid of me. Off I'd go to a breeder's house and start making babies. If I won, I'd be degraded, humiliated and so used that his daughter would never have anything to do with me. And really, who could blame her? There I was on national TV, strutting around like the whore of the neighborhood. How many cocks did I suck? Five or six? How many hand jobs did I give? Another five? How many guys fucked me, and fucked me good, filling me full of cum? Two. And how many times was it quite clear that I enjoyed being fucked? Two. She didn't leave me a note. I never saw her again. I was crushed, beaten, and angry, oh so angry, at my father, at her father, and at the government and everyone who had done this to me. In a rage, filled with a dangerous level of vengeance, I did the one thing that I knew would hurt my father the most. Instead of going to a med unit to get my manhood back, which is what all the other winners do, I went to The Academy and signed up to be a Sealed Sissy. I took the pink collar. I signed the papers and took the oath. At the ceremony, when the newt soldered the pink strand around my neck, all I wanted was for my father to be there, to see what he made me. I wouldn't even be a respected loser of The Games, a breeder with a chance to be a mother and maybe a wife. I took the path that would bring as much shame to my family as possible. And that, dear Kip, is why I am a Sealed Sissy, and also how I came to be by your side during The Games. I am the first winner to choose sissihood, and the first sissy to ever be an advisor. I'm just all kinds of firsts. Now aren't you glad you asked? Chapter 18 I look at Janine and don't feel so bad anymore. She's been through so much. What happened to me, well, it suddenly seems like nothing. "You never saw her again?" I ask. "No, never. I saw quite a few of my father's friends though. Anything to get even. Some of them are still quite generous customers." "What was her name?" "You can't guess?" I think about it for a moment. Then it comes it me. "Janine. Her name was Janine." "Smart boy. You catch on quick." "You picked that name because you were mad at her too." "I am a whore, and now her name is the name of a whore. I thought it was quite clever at the time. Now I wish I had chosen something that wasn't so misheard all the time. Everyone thinks I'm called Jane. Ugh. That name I hate. Now eat your breakfast. We have a lot to do before The Games start." I eat and eat and eat. I'm famished. The food tastes incredibly good. Sliced peaches and honeydew melons. Eggs scrambled with cheese and onions. Sourdough toast with a good coating of melted butter. Plump peppery sausages. Apple wood-smoked bacon. I've never been this hungry in my life. "God, Jany, why am I so hungry?" I ask between bites. "It's the feminizer. All that change burns energy. It's a lot of work, moving around all those cells. Did you pee a lot this morning?" "Yes, just buckets. I was like a faucet." "That's the body ridding itself of material it no longer needs. Feminizer shrinks you, and the stuff it melts goes the way other waste goes." I don't feel smaller as much as the world feels bigger. I don't feel weaker, so much as lighter. My arms are no longer thick branches of muscle that could lift an ore cart. Now they are lean, toned. Not feminine exactly, but definitely sleeker. I think I might like feeling like this, feeling lighter and quicker. What I don't like is the itching around my nipples and the swelling of my chest. Every time I look down and see two mounds there, I get red in the face and full of embarrassment. They aren't even big, but they seem huge. And they are sensitive. Every time my shirt moves just a little over my nipples it's like a little electric charge runs through me. Dirk walks in, looking tall and fit, his dark hair carefully tousled and gelled into place. The black training suit clings to his body, showing off every manly muscle, his broad shoulders, his beefy arms, his muscled abdomen. He's all man still, despite the fact that in the last two days ago he was fucked in the ass, begged to be made a girl and then was dressed up like a fairy princess. He struts to the breakfast table without so much as a "good morning" to me or Janine. He piles his plate full of food and starts chowing down. "Good morning, Dirk," Janine asks. "Sleep well?" "Like a rock," he says without a care in the world, like today is just another day. He finally looks up at me, looks me right in the eye. "Hey Kat," he says. "Nice tits." He goes back to eating, not even acknowledging his lame joke. Tears well in my eyes. I'm on the verge of crying again. I'm so sad so suddenly. Everything seems hopeless. They should just cut off my dick now and get it over with. More tears run down my cheeks. "That wasn't needed," she tells him with her stern, quiet voice. He shrugs and keeps eating. Janine pats me on my leg, my now thinner leg. "It's okay, dear one" she whispers into my ear. "It's okay. Shhhhhh." I get my crying under control with a sniffle or two. I take another bite of sausage. Dirk's rudeness hasn't made me any less hungry. "Sweeties," Janine says, "We need to talk strategy before The Games start." We both look up. Soon. The Games start soon, and we will be in the house, competing, fighting, doing everything we can to keep our manhood. "I originally thought the best way to go, as you were both so strong and athletic, was to win through brute force. You both were so physically strong, it would have hard for the other boys to compete." "But now?" I ask, knowing what she is saying. I'm not as strong as I used to be. We are going to lose and it's all my fault. I've failed us both. Again with the tears in my eyes. Fuck! I am tired of crying all the time. "Enough with the tears already," Dirk says. "You aren't even a girl yet." "His hormones will balance out soon enough," Janine says. "Just be patient. It takes about a day." "We don't have a day," Dirk says. "We have about three hours." "Indeed, so pay attention," she says. "You are both still quite strong, you too, Kip. You were a brute before, so losing a little muscle didn't make you weak. You are still stronger than almost all the other contestants. Both of you together, if you work together, you can fight off any of them. Going in, stay strong, take down other contestants when you can. Just be careful not to be cornered and always have each other's backs." We look at each other. I think we understand what she is saying. I think we are agreeing. I can see understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgement that for once we are on the same team. "As the days pass," Janine continues, "and here is the hard part, Kip, because you are physically weaker. If you try to keep up with the muscle boys, you will eventually fail. There is too much female hormone in your system. I'm sorry, but you are going to have to take the sissy road if you want to win." I knew it. I knew that was what she was going to say. I'm trying so hard not to cry, but it's hard. I hide my face in a napkin and let the tears come out, hoping they stop faster. "What about me?" Dirk asks. "If she starts getting weak, then what am I supposed to do when they team up on me?" "Kip is still very much a he and you will refer to him as such, do you understand me?" she says. "Yes, ma'am. If you say so." "I do. You might not like each other out here, but in there, you need to be a team or you both will have bellies full of babies next year. Understood?" "Okay, okay. I get it," he says. I stop sniffling. Lower my napkin, and once again look upon Janine's pretty face. Her makeup is subdued this morning, pale pink lips, shadowy browns on her eyelids, and just a hint of blush. She's wearing a suit of pale gray, tight pencil skirt, gray jacket over a soft pink blouse. Her sissy seal, the pink leather strand silver soldered around her neck seems like just another piece of jewelry, an accessory that matches her business-like outfit. She looks elegant and expensive, a classic beauty that would turn heads in any room. I take some comfort in my attraction to her. Whatever the Feminizer did to me, it didn't change that. I want her, crave her. In a weird way, I want her even more. "Kip, this will be hardest on you. As you know, the sissy road is difficult. It will mean embracing your femininity and doing it in front of the world. Can you do that?" I thought about Janine and what she had to do to win. If she had the strength to do it, then the least I could do was try. "I'll try," I said. "Good,' she said. "I'm proud of you. As a team, you Dirk, you will be the muscle. As Kip gets weaker, you'll need to protect him. And Kip, as Dirk gets competitors into the submission chair, you'll need to finish them off. Focus on splitting up the other teams. Divide them however you can. If you can remain a team, you'll both last a good long while." "And then when I win," Dirk says, "I'll be sure and give Kat a good long fucking, just like a new breeder wants." "Can't you be nice?" I ask. "Even for a second? We are a team! We need each other." I don't cry. Surprisingly, I don't feel anything but a normal dose of annoyance and the desire to punch him in the face, just like the old Kip would have felt. Yes, I am still a man. I still want to hit that asshole. Good. "Are we agreed then?" Kat asks. "This is a tricky strategy, but I've seen it work. I'm sure you have too. M-S teams are able to adapt to almost every challenge and situation." "M-S team?" I ask. I hadn't heard the term before. "Male-Sissy team, a team that has one macho guy sucking up the testosterone and one sissy, getting as feminized and sexy as possible. When you go to the Advisor's School you learn all kinds of odd terms and weird things about the games." "Like what?" I ask. "Well, did you know that about half of all winners end up breeding with their former partners? It's seen as the return of a favor, a way of saying thanks. The losing partner almost always gives up so that the other can win. In return, the winner takes care of the new breeder by giving her a baby, some portion of the winning money and sometimes even marriage." "Don't get your hopes up Kat," Dirk says. "I'm not marrying you, but I might give you a nice fat baby." "Who would want a baby from an asshole like you? He might inherit your dickhead gene, so no thanks." Dirk laughs. Instead of crying, I fired back at him. I'm feeling better all the time. Chapter 19 "The Miller boy, Kip, he has gained the most sympathy," the Secretary of The Games says. "Getting that big dose of feminizer, and the way he took it, so stoically, so nobly. That put the crowd behind him." "And the fat boy, the one who cheated?" the President asks. "He is reviled. We edited the footage, but the act was caught on live TV. He clearly squirted vapor oil onto the stage." "Damn it. That was clumsy, extremely clumsy. I am not pleased. How did he get the substance?" "We don't have proof yet. However, the truth seems self-evident. His father is a chemist. He works in the machinery and lubricant labs. His job performance reviews are consistently excellent. His 22-year career has been exemplary." "Breed him. Immediately. Big tits. Big ass. Extra horny. Heel hobbled. Bimbotized. Fetish for public intercourse. Cum hunger. I want to see him pregnant next week." "Yes Madame President, but..." "But what, you silly cow! Did I not just give an order!" "If I might suggest..." "Be quick. I'm losing my patience with your incompetence." "You risk making a martyr of Kip. Word will get out quickly of the scientists punishment and there will be demands that Kip Miller be forgiven, have his feminization reversed. It would be an extreme embarrassment to The Games." "And you suggest?" "We announce that we conducted an investigation. We create a new video. We alter it so it clearly looks like Kip got a little too over confident while walking in heels and slipped. Then we flood the news with Games experts who will describe the slip, analyze it, and argue over the correct way to walk in heels. With enough noise, the truth will be drowned out." The President sighs, mulls it over. She is displeased, but this solution, it would appear to be the best course of action. The sanctity of The Games must be preserved. "Proceed," the President says. "But after The Games that boy's father becomes a whore breeder. She will be pregnant the rest of her life, understood?" "Yes, Madam President." "Now, this Kip boy, is he our preferred winner or not?" "He would have been the best example of masculinity being broken and then restored, yes Madam President. He is loyal to the government, obedient, and in all ways the ideal man, practically a poster boy for our way of life." "But?" "But now, with him already partially feminized, and with the masses already rooting for him, it might be a dangerous win. The rumors about him having been cheated will continue to swirl and will always be a part of his winner's story. Him triumphing in the end, overcoming the odds, it would make him exceedingly popular, but would taint the story we want the world to hear." "I see. You fucked up and you don't want anyone to remember you fucked up, so Kip, a perfect example for how we want men to behave, a perfect winner, must now lose." "The decision, of course, is up to you. But yes, keeping alive the story of Kip winning even though he was sabotaged, we believe that would be a mistake." "Damn it. If you were a man you would already be breeding. You are lucky you were born with ovaries." "Yes Madam President. I have always felt lucky to be born a Free Female and I do apologize for this mistake. I will gladly resign after these Games if you wish me to." "Let's see if you can make it up to me. Make these Games truly special. Give me record ratings. Give me obedient, loyal men working for the glory of the country. I would like to, for once, finish a Games and not have rebel groups popup everywhere. These Games need to scare the hell out of anyone who dares question the power of the government. Am I understood?" "Yes Madame President." "By the way, do we know what happens when we put a genetic female into the Breeder Program?" "No Madame President. No genetic woman has ever been required to endure that." "Make these Games a success or you might find out firsthand what happens when we turn a genetic woman into a Breeder. Understood?" "Yes Madame President." "Dismissed." Chapter 20 The Games starts in just a few minutes. Janine kisses Dirk on his cheek, wishes him luck. She kisses me on my lips, embraces me. "Come back to me with a cock, you understand me?" she whispers into my ear. "I'll do my best," I say to her. "Good luck, Kip," she says out loud, for everyone else to hear. "Thank you for all your help," I say. A few of the other advisors snicker at that. They don't seem to like her. It's not surprising. Sissies aren't normally liked unless they are servicing you in a Pleasure House. Janine is a threat to them and how they think the world should work. Wouldn't it be nice to have a contestant with a sissy advisor win the Games? That would be quite something. The 20 of us are wearing skintight black body suits that leave little to the imagination. These suits are controlled by the Game Officials. When on, they control us. They can cause pain, pleasure, administer drugs, heal and kill. When activated, as they are now, they cover a body from the silver collar down. When inactive, they recede into the silver collars we all wear and that will remain around our necks until we leave The House of Games. Most of the others look strong and masculine, bigger than me now. It's a little intimidating. Then there is the fat boy who made me slip. I have my eye on him. I'm going to find out exactly what happened. There's Dirk. He makes the black suit look especially good. He's tall, lean and perfectly proportioned. He could model that black suit on billboards and sell millions of them. And there is Pie. Oh my, he, and it's hard to not call him "she," he is small, skinny, and the black suit makes him look positively delicate. His blond hair has a big poofy wave in front that almost covers his eyes. He is flat chested, and has a stick figure, like a skinny 12 year old, but moves like a girl, with moving hips and hands that always seem to be gesturing. Pie is the least manly of all of us, and I have two A-cup breasts and girlishly wide hips. I wonder what he's going to do. If he wants to really be a girl, maybe he'll opt out early so he can get what he's always wanted. That's happened a few times, a contestant expressing a real desire to no longer be male, rubbing one out, and getting a quick trip to the Breeder Academy. We say our final good byes to our advisors and are herded into a small dark room by agents. The walls are white plastic with metal rails on the walls. The two sliding doors in the back close. This is basically a train, taking to us to a secret location, wherever they have built The House of Games. There is a shudder and a hum. The room is moving. My heart speeds up. My hands shake. This is it. It's happening. The Manhood Games are about to start. One of the men in this room will get to keep his cock. The rest of us will be transformed into feminized baby- making machines, always hungry for sex, always looking to have our eggs fertilized, hoping for a man to buy our contract and marry us. The threat of that happening hangs over every boy as he grows up. It's the worst thing in the world, so they say, to be a breeder, to lose your manhood. I've lost some of mine. To be honest, I don't find it so bad. However, I still very much want to keep my cock. I'm going to do everything I can to keep it. I want to be with Janine. Without a cock, I will never have that. She's the one I want. Unless I stay a man, I can't have her. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to win. I hold onto a hand rail as the moving room goes around corners, changes directions, goes up for a few minutes, then drops down. Dirk is sweating. He stares at his feet, looking angry, grinding his jaw. We are a team. I hope he remembers that. The others have paired up with their teammates. A few them whisper to each other, probably making plans for what to do once the doors open and the suits retract. It might get very violent, very quickly. I might soon regret not having my strong miner's arms. The room slows, then stops. A white light shines on us from the ceiling. "Contestants!" the announcer shouts in his ever cheerful voice. "Welcome to The Manhood Games!" The doors slide open. END OF PART FIVE TO BE CONTINUED Hi! I hope you are enjoying this story. It has been very fun to write! If you could do me a favor, please leave a review. It doesn't have to be long. Reviews help get a story noticed and will also let me know what you like (and don't) about The Games. If you'd like to chat, you can like me on Facebook at... https://www.facebook.com/nancyrosetv I'm also on tumbler here... http://nancyrosetv.tumblr.com/ I am on Twitter here... https://twitter.com/nancyrosetv You can also read my full length novella The Trainer here... http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DZ3396Q Hugs, Nancy