The Games - Part Ten free porn video

THE GAMES PART TEN By Nancy Rose If you haven't read the previous parts, you really should! Part One is here... https://fictionmania.tv/searchdisplay/authordisplay.html?word=1473 Chapter 37 WELL SHIT, THIS IS A PICKLE, and I've been in some pickles. My name is Tex, and somehow I have managed to get through 50 years on this planet without ruffling government feathers. I've herded cattle, put down a couple hundred miles of bobbed wire fence, built barns, worked in a slaughter house, and about 30 years ago I managed to win The Games. I did it by being patient and letting the others knock themselves out. I used my fists when I had to, and more than once I used my rope skills to tie down some big ol' horny dude so my sissy partner could take him out. That was one sexy sissy. Daisy was her name. She started out just another cowboy from State 9 like me, knew nothing but cattle, horses, dirt and old cowboy songs. Every morning in the house, she would leave her pink bedroom a little prettier, a little softer and a little more like a girl I wanted to marry. By the time we got to the end, she did herself in while I kissed her. I promised to take care of her and give her babies, and that's what I did. She's at home, waiting for me with our 10 sons. It's a big spread we have, 200 hundred head of cattle most seasons, so we made a lot of boys to help. She didn't mind. She liked being pregnant, and I aimed to keep her that way. When I was told I would be an advisor, she told me to be careful. She told me to not trust the government. She told me to keep to myself, stay out of trouble, and be quiet. Those are all things I'm good at. So I have to say I'm surprised that I find myself in this room, in this state. I'm what they call a milking breeder. A regular breeder, like my wife, is made to make babies, but also to be like a regular woman, healthy, strong, sexy, made to be a man's partner in life, like God intended, until we messed around with genetic buggers and almost killed off all the women. That's what we get for playing God. A milking breeder is basically a cow, made to provide milk for babies. A lot of times, it's bottled and put into storage. All the little boy babies born on breeding farms drink it. The government wants more men. They have an empire to build and they need strong backs and obedient brains to build it, and the breeding farms create an endless supply. Milking breeders are also hired out. "Owned" might be a better word, owned by rich families with a lot of kids. It's common for Capitol families to own a milker, as genetic women don't like to breast feed. They like their breasts small and un-stretched. Most of them prefer not to even carry their own babies. They will hire breeders to carry it, and then hire breeders to feed it, and then hire breeders to raise it. How those women consider themselves mothers is beyond me. So here I am, a milking breeder, and a prolific one at that, if the size of my teats is any indication. I have a good view of myself. I'm on my back and tied down onto a submission table. The ceiling above me is a mirror and for the last hour I've been admiring myself. I don't recognize that girl in the mirror. She's a bit plump for my taste, but I still wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers. If I lean to the left or right, my breasts shift and jiggle. I feel the weight pull on my chest this way and that. I feel the milk in them slosh around a bit. My nipples are huge, the size of apples, with big ol' nipples that I'm sure would be fun to nibble on if I were a man and that girl in the mirror were some Sissy Sally at the local Saloon. I don't have a cock anymore, dang it. I had a great big one, State 9- sized, as they say. Now I have a little tuft of blond hair just above a pretty slit with plump lips and a clit that is standing up and saluting. Whoever tied me down was nice enough to spread my legs, letting me get a good long look at my new privates. As pussies go, it's a nice one. I could have done worse. They could have just neutered me and had me serve the purple robes. I hate those bastards, like everyone else, so I'm glad that didn't happen. I'm also thinking that I like that plump little girl in the mirror. She has a friendly body, comfortable, cushy. You could get on top and stay for a while, and later on, I bet that girl could cook up one delicious dinner. She looks like a cook. And she is me. Damn. My mind is starting to break a little bit. I'm not her; I'm still me. Yet, there she is, and here I am, her, but not her. Goddamn. Confusing. The mask isn't helping my state. They put this plastic, rubber thing on my face. It looks like a pretty girl's face, all made up for a night out on the town, red lips, blue eye shadow over big eyes. It almost looks real, and that makes things even more disturbing. It's just rubbery enough to let folks know that's it's a mask. They told me it's a pretty punishment mask for sissies, to shut them up during training. No one wants to fuck a sissy who is complaining while getting fucked, I suppose. So they put these masks on them until they no longer complain, until they accept it, until they like it. I wonder what my face looks like now. Did they feminize that too? Am I pretty? Do I want to be pretty? *** The President watches Tex, now Bessie, and savors his suffering. She wishes she could be inside of his head, hearing every tortured thought, mourning for his lost masculinity. With no conditioning, no hypnosis or transition therapy, the poor man - now breeder - will surely go insane. It makes her wet just thinking about it. She loves breaking men, teaching them how weak they are, how vulnerable, tearing out every brick in their wall of ego to expose the whimpering little boy hiding behind it. She watches the scene on the video screen on her desk. She lifts up her skirt and slips two fingers into her panties while she watches Bessie squirm on the table. She rubs her clit, gently, always gently at first, and then a little harder. To hell with this, she thinks. What is the sense in having all of this power if I can't grant myself some pleasure every once in a while? She taps the intercom button. "Gloria!" she commands. "Get your ass in here." "Yes Madame President!" answers a soft, high pitched, girlish voice. Gloria, the President's newest sissy, is a delight. The gurl was once a huge man, covered in rippling muscles, a true specimen of masculinity. He was a pleasure to break. He struggled against his sissification for more than a year until he finally surrendered. Watching him willingly suck his first cock made her cum without so much as a touch onto her clit. The sissy trots into her office, looking quite delectable. Gloria is blonde with mounds of curls that cascade down her shoulders. There is a pink rose tucked into the ringlets of hair, a flower as pretty as the sissy. Her eyes are heavily made up with white at inner corners of her eyelids fading to sky blue painted out to the edges of her thin arched eyebrows. He lips are dark pink, shiny and wet, filled with glitter. Kissable. Her face and hair, both immaculate, take her more than two hours every morning, and she loves it, falls in love with herself a little more whenever she looks in the mirror. Silly sissies, so easy to break once they fall in love with their sissy selves. She wears a pink satin collar fringed in white lace. Her neck is thin, so delicate, and so vulnerable. Her pink dress is a delightful confection of pink satin ruffles and white lace. The tiny skirt swishes around delightfully, held aloft by layers of pink and white petticoat. Gloria's arms are thin and soft, graceful, and ever so weak. Her wrists are perpetually limp. They used to be a man's arms, so strong and thick, and now they can barely lift a pound. The sissy is in white stockings, held high with garters, and gorgeous white pumps with 5-inch feels and triple ankle straps. The gurl walks well in them, thanks to the surgeries on her claves and the extreme weight loss. Once she was a bulky 200-somehting pounds, and now she's a lithe 115, as flexible and light as a ballerina. "You called, Madame President?" Gloria asks and curtsies. "Service me, slut," says the President. Gloria comes around the desk and drops to her knees, her eyes focused on wet pussy belonging to her owner. The President spreads her legs, welcoming the sissy, giving access to her hairless pussy, its lips small and tight, and its clit erect in its hood. Gloria has been trained as a pussy-licking sissy, also called a lady's sissy. Unlike normal sissies, who are turned into cocksuckers who get violently ill at the sight of a vagina, lady's sissies are trained to worship pussy. Servicing genetic women is what they live for and are almost mindlessly obedient to strong females. The more firm and strict the mistress, the more the lady's sissy loves it. Real men scare them and vaguely disgust them. They find them rather pathetic and sad, clumsy creatures in bulky ugly bodies. That's the secret to a training lady's sissies. They come to hate their natural masculinity so much that they overcompensate, striving to become feminine and submissive as possible in order to get as far away from their former male personas as possible. The wonderful pliability of the male mind never ceases to amaze the President. Men seem strong, and are born into sturdy, useful, bodies. They instinctually seek out female sex partners to pursue, dominate and ravage. However, play with their brains just a little bit and suddenly you have a sexy little slave with an eager tongue and a burning desire to please. Gloria has a gold stud in her tongue that feels just electrically delightful against the President's clit. The President watches Bessie on the video screen as Gloria works her well-trained tongue up and down her sopping wet slit. She wonders how many times she will orgasm this morning. She presses another button on her intercom, the one for her faithful newt. "Eddie?" she says, trying not to let her quicken breath become audible. "Yes, Madame President?" says the newt's voice, creaky and oddly high pitched. "Bring the boys in," she commands. "Make sure they give me a good show." "It shall be done," he says. Chapter 38 I WAKE IN MY PINK BED and stare up at the pink ceiling. My first night in The House of Games is over. I slept well, deeply, dreaming of...something...not sure what, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, my cock is tingling and half hard. Whatever I was dreaming, it must have been quite nice. I resist the urge to touch myself. Taking advantage of a morning would be disaster here. I smile to myself. Another time. Time to get out of bed and see what this day holds for me. I wonder how Dirk fared, what his night was like. I roll slowly out of bed. I'm still naked except for the metal collar. I wonder if I'll be wearing any clothes today. Oh no, my breasts, they are bigger. They are no longer budding little mounds. Now they have weight and heft, and my nipples are bigger. I spring out of bed and go to the standing mirror in the corner of the room. Spending the night in a pink room has, as expected, changed me. I'm smaller and shorter, my hips bigger, my waist smaller. Even my hands and feet are smaller. My penis, my once proud penis, it looks tiny. I look down at it. There is a tuft of blonde hair above it. I'm smooth everywhere else, hairless, smooth and soft. My shoulders are still a bit square. Something about the angular shape of them is still masculine. I look at my hands, and they still look too big for a girl, too strong, though my nails are growing as fast as my hair. They are thick white talons and in need of a trim. They would look nice if properly groomed. I look in the top drawer of the pink dresser and sure enough, amongst an array of girl stuff are fingernail clippers, files, and three bottles of finger nail polish, pink, red and a dark red the bottle calls cinnamon. How girly do I want to get? How far do I go? I have a bit of masculinity left. I can hang onto it. Well, it's between my legs and I can hold it with both fingers. My cock, my cock was so huge once. It's rock hard and maybe, just maybe, its three inches long. My balls are marbles, tight and hard. At what point do I walk over a line that I can't cross back over? I wonder what my nails would look when painted. What else do I have to do? I'm man enough to do this, right? If I walk out of this house the winner, they will shoot me full of chemicals and nanos and make me big and strong again, bigger even. Some of the winners who are sissified during The Games get extreme masculinization treatments, get bigger cocks, bigger balls, bigger arms, and stronger chins. They go back out into the world ready to beat the shit out of anyone who accuses them of spending a little too much time on the pink road in The Games. Not me. I'll be happy to get my regular body back, maybe a little thinner, maybe a little lighter; that would be nice. Fuck it, I'm going to do it. I'm going to paint my nails. I might as well! It's just a little lacquer. If five grams of paint can make me a sissy, then I was never much of a man. I say this and look down at my plump, perky tits and can't help but laugh. I choose the cinnamon, sit on my bed, unscrew the cap and apply a coat, admiring how much prettier each nail looks with a bit of color on it. It's oddly calming, doing this simple thing, paying attention to the edges, making sure to keep an even brush stroke. When I've done all ten nails, I blow on them, drying them quickly. Nice. They look nice! Will Dirk notice? Shit, he's going to make fun of me. To hell with him. He can make fun if he wants. Asshole. I go back to the mirror, look at my face, my hair, and wonder what else I can do to be a little prettier, a little more like a girl a guy would want to feed his cock too. Then I wonder...What is in those drawers? The collar can cover us in whatever clothes the gamemakers want. The dresser is for...what? I open the top drawer. Oh my god. It is filled with most ornate, detailed, delicate and beautiful satin and silk panties imaginable. The pair on top, just looking at them makes me shudder in a kind of sissy tremor that shakes me from my nose down to my toes. My little cock wants to be in them. I can't resist. They are thick pink satin with a line of pink lace at the top and around the middle and around the leg openings. In the front, just above where my cockette will go, are two large satin roses made from a dozen circular folds. Each is nestled into a loop of pink ribbon tied into a dainty bow. It's a clever design, a kind of joke really. Where a big cock on a man would be, this panty places pink satin roses. I lift them and smell. Yes, there it is, the delicate scent of roses. I rub the material against my face. So smooth, so soft. Why I had I never realized how wonderful satin is? I step into them, pull them up and over my diamond-hard tiny cock and cover it with this most sissy of garments. I look in the mirror. You would think I never had a dick. And my ass, now my ass looks even rounder and curvier. It looks amazing. I would totally want to fuck me. PONG! "Excellent choice!" says the announcer. Oh hell. I forgot. I'm on a TV show. For a second, I forgot. I was just having some fun, and now he's back. "You really are on The Sissy Road, now aren't you?" he asks. "Tell the home viewers, tell the world." I hesitate. I'm embarrassed. I'm blushing, I know I am. I don't want anyone to see me like this, weak, sissified, wearing pink panties. The skinsuit didn't dress me in them. I had a choice, and I chose to put them on. What does that make me? "The Sissy Road," I say sheepishly. "I'm on The Sissy Road." "Wonderful!" he says excitedly. "It's so important to embrace your role in The Games if you wish to be successful. Now, what do sissies do to win The Games?" I know the answer. We are taught it in school for years before we reach the age of 18 and our first lottery. "Sissies charm, tempt and seduce men. Sissies make cocks hard. Sissies make men cum, and then those losers will become breeders. That's how you win The Games, if you take The Sissy Road." I never thought I would say those words in The Games. I always thought I would take The Man's Path. Yet here I am, with my nipples tingling, my breasts growing, and I've already made two guys cum. Also, I can't stop thinking about sucking cock, which isn't the manliest thing. "Now that you are on The Sissy Road, what is your sissy name?" Everyone who makes the choice I just made has to pick a female name. I need to pick one fast, before he picks one for me. "Kat," I say. "My sissy name is Kat." "Wouldn't you like a more feminine name? How about Kitty?" "No! My name is Kat." "We'll I'll just call you Kitty for now and see if you don't just love it by tomorrow." "Leave me alone, please. Just leave me alone." "I will leave you, yes. There are other contestants to interview. However, I do want to get your reaction to your friend Dirk. He's had a few changes in the night as well!" Oh shit. What have they done to Dirk? The door swings open and he walks in. Oh my god. He's bigger and taller. His arms are huge, his chest rippling with muscle. His face is different, his chin bigger, his jaw line more square. The skinsuit has decided to show off his new muscles. He's now wearing tight blue short-shorts that show off his massive thighs and a tight blue tank top that displays his sculpted pecks. The bulge in his shorts is big, really big. I wonder what it looks like. Stop it! You do not want to suck on Dirk! You will not! He strides across the room on his long legs, headed straight for me. I don't know if he is going to attack me or kiss me. He stops in front of me, looks me up and down. I hide my breasts with my arms. I'm glad I'm wearing the panties so he can't see how hard my dick is. Should I even call it that anymore? What does Janine call hers? A clitty? "You look different," he says, his eyes hungry. Good god he looks scary. He makes me feel weak, the way he looms over me, the size of him. I want to hide. "It was the room, I slept in a pink room, and it...did stuff to me." "Yeah it did. Pretty good stuff." He's staring at me in a way that makes me want to run away and hide. But I'm not. I'm still me, I'm Kip, and I'm a man. I'm still a man. "You look different too," I say. "How do you feel?" "I feel great! And I'm hungry. And I'm horny as all fuck. And you look good." He's practically drooling. He must be full of testosterone and is basically a caveman right now. He reaches out, grabs my shoulders, and pushes my back against the wall. "Stop!" I say, my voice cracking into a high pitched girl's voice. "Can't help it," he says. "I'm horny and you look too good." He grabs my thin wrists with his big meaty hands and lifts them above my head, pins them to the wall. He's so close to me now, so much bigger than me, so much stronger. He looks down at my breasts, my pert, budding, B-cup breasts with big nipples, the two gifts I got last night from sleeping in this cursed room. He looks at them, licks his lips. "You've got great tits," he says. He drops his head and kisses my left nipple. A shock of electric pleasure runs through me. That I wasn't expecting. I moan. I can't help myself. It feels too good. His sucks gently, then harder, then harder. He's using his tongue, and then nibbles just a bit with his teeth. I'm squirming, pinned to the wall by his steel-like arms. I can't get away and he's making me feel things I don't want to feel. My clitty is vibrating. The taste of vanilla is in my mouth. I can smell it in the air. I picture myself sucking his cock, his hands at the back of my head, shoving my face down on it until it is deep inside my throat. I love it. I can't get it deep enough into me. Shit! I've got to get away from him, calm him down, re-focus him. "Sweety, please," I say. Then realize I called him "sweety," Janine's word, a sissy's word. That's okay. I'm on The Sissy Road. I should use every advantage it gives me. "Think, sweety, think," I say. "Your hunger is just them messing with you. You slept in a blue room. They pumped you full of testosterone. It's making you horny. You've got to fight back or lose." "I don't need to fight back. I've got a chastity thing on my cock." His blue skinsuit shrinks and disappears into his collar, leaving him naked, sweating, and pressing into me. His cock and balls are indeed in a little blue plastic bubble. It looks painful. Little bits of red and purple flesh poke out from the creases and the piss slit. "Doesn't that hurt?" I ask. "Yeah it hurts, but it means I can't get hard, which means I can touch you all I want to, you sexy little slut." PONG! "Just want to point out," says the announcer, like he's being politely helpful. "That a simple glass of water will melt that device right off and spring Dirk's big cock free! Wouldn't that be nice? Hmm, Kitty? Wouldn't you like that, a nice big cock unencumbered and available to you?" "Who's Kitty?" "My name is Kat. He's being an asshole." "Kat? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But Kitty is cuter." "Shut up." Right then, an opening appears in the ceiling and from it descends a water bottle, lowered to the floor by a wire that retracts once it drops its delivery. We both look at it, sitting there innocently, a bottle of inert fluid that can quench thirst, turn into ice, wash a face or melt away a chastity device, springing free a beautifully delicious cock I could happily suck on for hours. I'm sure Dirk is thinking something else. He's thinking about springing his cock free and fucking me as hard as he can until he cums. It wasn't so long ago I was a young, healthy male. I know what that kind of horniness feels like. I need to distract him, get him, and me, out of this room. "God yes, I want this thing off of me. I want..." he says. "Shhhhh," I say. "You want something else, besides me..." "What? What else would I want! I know you're Kip, and you are a guy, but fuck, all I want to do right now is fucking fuck you." He leans into me as he says this, pinning me against the wall, his face right in front of mine. I can't move, can't squirm away. He is big, overpowering, his arms pinning mine to the wall. I can't push him away, but I am still thinking. I still have my mind, and I remember what nanos do to you, do to your body. They need energy to do it. I was starving after my bout with them. They need food to fuel all the biological changes, and right now, as much as Dirk needs sex, he needs food more. He just doesn't realize it. "Aren't you hungry?" I ask, his face close to mine, his lips close to mine, his hard body pressed into my soft one. "Don't you want a nice big breakfast?" "Yeah, I could go for breakfast," he says. I see some thought in his eyes now, his lust somewhat dimmed. "It will be delicious," I say. "The food here is sooooo good. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter... "Breakfast..." he says. I can hear the hunger in his voice. Chapter 39 "BREAKFAST!" THAT ANNOUNCER FELLOW CALLS out. Are they going to feed me? I could afford to miss a meal or two. I'm a chubby girl; they turned me into a chubby girl with big ol' teats and a big belly. My name used to be Tex. I remember someone whispering in my ear my new name is Bessie, a cow's name. I hear the door open. I can't turn my head far enough to see who walks in. "Your meal is served!" the announcer says. "You will not be allowed to leave this room until you have been properly fed. Say hello to Bessie!" They walk into view. The eye holes in the mask aren't that big. I can only see right in front of me. It's my two boys, Mike and Tyler, the pride of State 9. Dumb fellas, but not too bad, as cow hands go. They were hard workers, good with cattle, gave an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Now they are both wearing pink. Shit. What did they do to mess up? Or did I mess them up? Are they on The Sissy Road because of my mistake? I try to speak but the tube in my throat keeps anything from coming out. I sound like a girl struggling with something in her mouth. I suppose that makes sense. I am a girl now. Goddamn, that is a weird thought. They are looking at me. Ah shit, they are not bright. They are trying to figure out what to do to me. "What are we supposed to do with her?" Mike asks. "I dunno," Tyler asks. I pull on my straps. I'm held fast, like a colt tied down and ready to be branded. "She's got big ol' teats," Mike says. "Don't get all worked up," Tyler says. "This is a test. You fuck her, you'll cum out." "The announcer said 'breakfast.' What did he mean? I'm really fucking hungry." "Damn, she really wants off of that table. Look at her pulling away, like a wolf caught in a trap." "She is a big 'un. I do like 'em big." "You're playing with fire. You start thinking about her, you're gonna get excited." "And she smells real good too. Like flowers. She smells like she tastes good." "We'll she ain't breakfast..." "I bet those big ol' titties taste good." "Wait a second. Is that...holy damn...is that a drop of milk on her nipple?" "Whazzat?" I can feel it, feel my teats getting bigger, tighter. The milk is building up in them. My nipples hurt. Lord help me, I need someone to milk me. It's starting to hurt bad. I don't want those two idiots to touch me, but goddamn it I do, I need them to milk me. Please, milk me, you poor dumb bastards. Help me out here. "What do you think it tastes like?" Tyler asks. "You don't want to drink from her," Mike says. "If The Games wants you to do something, you should not do it. In fact, you should run the fuck away." "She smells good. Real good." Tyler is standing over me now, a big dumb cowhand, ugly as sin, in his pink skinsuit, looking as much like a sissy as a duck looks like an eagle. "Don't do it," Mike warns. "Don't you dare." Tyler leans over and licks my nipple. It feels so damn good, like a warm blanket wraps around me. I feel my nether regions perks up. I think I'm getting wet. Damn that's weird. It's almost like getting a hard on, but you feel it deeper inside you, up and in you, just below your belly button. It's an ache and a pleasure, all at once. This body is driving me crazy. I want out of it. I want my cock back! It ain't right! "Yum, yum!" Tyler says. "She is delicious!" Get off of me you dumb sack of shit. It's me! Tex! Your goddamn advisor. Oh shit, he's sucking so hard now. Damn. It feels too good. Too goddamn fucking good. I get kind of dreamy, the feeling of lips on my teats, the sucking rhythm, the feeling of milk flowing from me into a hungry mouth. It makes me feel kinda drunk, happy in a weird way. I hate it. I hate what they've made me. This is torture. I wish they would just kill me now. Why didn't they just put a bullet in my head? "It tastes that good huh?" Mike says. Now even the smarter one of these two dumbass twins is getting tempted. "I am hungry. She does smell good. Maybe I'll just take a taste." He walks around me, bends over and holy damn, he starts sucking like a starving baby. Two mouths on me, sucking, taking in my milk. The pain in my nipples finally goes away. A warm tingly feeling takes its place. I can feel my milk squirting into those mouths. I'm feeding them. It is wrong, so wrong. The better it feels, the more shame I feel, the more I want to find a dark hole to jump into. My pussy aches now. The more they suck, the more I feel that pain deep inside me. I guess this is what a woman feels when she wants to be filled. Damn. I don't know how they can stand it. I want to launch myself onto a fence post. I pull at my bonds, and keep pulling. Nothing gives. I practically pull my shoulders out of their sockets. I can't get away. Maybe if I could get one of them to take this mask off. I shout. I have a woman's voice now. I can't get it past the rubber tube stuck in my mouth. Nothing comes out but moans, and they probably think it's me approving or liking what they are doing. They are drinking and drinking, lips sealed onto me. They remind me of baby calves sucking on bottles. They look blissful. Sing. Maybe I can sing to them. I can get out notes I think. I can get out something that reminds them I'm not an animal. I hum. That's what I do. Been doing it all my life. I hum a song I have been humming since before I can even remember remembering anything. On the hundreds of lonely nights I've spent out on the range, putting pounding down fencing, moving cattle, chasing off wolves, heating up coffee over an open fire on a freezing night, I hummed "Little Yellow Rose." I don't know the words, only heard them a few times. But I like the tune. I hum. I think about my wife in a pretty yellow dress. I hum and think of her. I don't think I'll ever see her again. "She's humming, or singing, or something," Mike says, then goes right back to sucking on my teat. "Sounds familiar," Tyler says, and keeps sucking. Yeah, you idiots. It should sound familiar. I hum one goddamn song. You've heard it! Think damn it! Aren't you just a little goddamn curious about who is under this mask? Take a look! I keep humming. They keep sucking. Soon they'll get their fill. Then they'll be done, probably take a nap like the big babies they are. *** The President watches the scene, is thoroughly entertained. Two big strong men, ugly ones, full of testosterone and stupidity, backs covered in hair and balls as big as plums, they happily suck away on the teats of Bessie, the former Tex. So amazing how far nanotech has come, how fast masculinity can be ripped away now, males transformed into something beautiful, useful and manageable. She looks down at her quite useful Gloria, a sissy with a wonderful tongue, pretty face, sensitive nipples, and a mind softened into obedience by years of training and hypnosis. She is perfect, this one. Gloria's tongue laps up and down the President's pussy, swirling along the inner lips, dabbing ever so gently to just the underneath of her clit, the perfect spot. Such a pretty girl, so happy on her knees in her pretty clothes and worshipping her goddess. One day, perhaps, all men will be like this. Yes, there might be a need for some big burly gorillas to lift heavy objects and dig holes in the ground. But wouldn't it be nice if all men, everywhere, were sissified? From birth? It should be scientifically possible soon. The nanotech is getting there. The President looks to the screen to see the results of the latest scientific breakthrough, nanos delivered via breast milk through a milking breeder. She can already see changes. The two horrible young men, who are happily drinking to their masculinity's doom, are changing, right before her, changing into sissies. Lovely! Her pussy quivers, then spurts, her juices covering Gloria's pretty face. The President orgasms again, the third time this morning. The sissification of unwilling men always does that to her. *** "I'm feel kind of funny," Mike says, then goes back to sucking. My breasts look smaller now. I think I'm running dry. Good. They'll stop soon. I'm almost tapped out. "Me too," Tyler says. "I don't know why. I feel good, but kinda weird." Their voices are higher. What is going on? "I think she's running out of milk," Mike says. "I think this teat is empty." "This one too, but I'm full. I don't think I can drink another drop. Tasted so good though!" "You wanna see what she looks like, our milky maid?" "Take off her mask? What if she's ugly as sin?" "Who cares if a cow is ugly? I'm just curious, is all. I wonder why the gamemakers put a mask on her." "I never thought about that." Yes! You shitheads, yes! Take off my mask! Get me out of here! Please, oh please, just let me loose. "How do you take it off?" Mike asks. "I don't see a strap or latch or anything." "I think it's glued on. The sides of it, it like melted in her skin." "Damn. She must have been one naughty girl." "At least it's a pretty mask. She'll be a pretty girl forever." "You look different. You look kinda...pretty, too." "Thank you, I, feel so funny now. Oh wow, I'm all woozy. That was maybe too much milk." The mask won't come off. Welded to my skin. Damn. What did those bitches do to me? I'm going to be a mute cow forever. Goddamn it all to hell and back. "You feel something..." Mike says, "...something funny in your backside?" *** The President watches, fascinated. She's never seen a sissification happen so fast. These two are already shifting their sexual preference, without so much as a hypno session. Amazing. These new nanos are amazing! She presses a button on the vid screen. The pink skinsuits on Mike and Tyler retract into their collars. She wants to see their bodies. More importantly, she wants them to see their new bodies. They are beautiful. All their body hair is gone, dropped away, leaving them smooth and clean. Muscle mass has been reduced, making them look thinner and softer, rounder in the shoulders. They will look so much better after a night of sleep and peeing out all the waste product. They both sport lovely small breasts, B-cups at least, pointy in the adorable way that new breasts are, breasts that haven't dropped or matured yet. They each have big pointy nipples, hard and sensitive. They will be fun to touch, which the boys will discover momentarily if she is any judge. "You look different," Mike says. "You look kinda pretty." He is right! Tyler does look prettier, his face softened and feminized, as is Mike's. They aren't pretty, that's not the word the President would use. Interesting. They have interesting feminized faces. Quirky. They have faces with an interesting character. With a bit of makeup, they would even be beautiful in the unconventional way that sometimes happens when ugly women beautify themselves. Oh perfect! Now they are kissing! They just couldn't help themselves. A day ago they were red-blooded, heterosexual men, big ugly brutes. And look at them! Look at what I have created! I truly am a goddess aren't I? I can shape this entire world into exactly what I want! She comes again and Gloria's tongue has yet to tire. *** Damn. My breast milk did something to them. I'm poison. The government filled me up with poison. They made me a trap, a big tasty trap. They are going to use me. I'm just another game within The Games. My boys are naked, their pink, hairless bodies embracing. They look thin, curvy, kind a flabby. They both have tits themselves, not big like mine, but pretty damn big. They are kissing like long lost lovers. They can't get their tongues into each other's mouth's deep enough. "I need..." Mike says, his voice high. "I need you to do something..." "I need it to," Tyler says, between shallow quick breathes. "So bad." "It's like an itch, deep inside me." "I know." "Do it. Do it to me. Then I'll do you." "Where?" "On top of her. She's nice and soft." Oh no. Please. No. Mike climbs on top of me, like he's going to fuck me. I feel his hard cock close to my new pussy. It doesn't go in. He doesn't seem interested in putting it in. What he does want is to get his ass in the air, expose it to Tyler. I'm looking into Mike's eyes, and he's looking into mine. Oh my poor boy. What have they done to you? I can hear Tyler climbing on top of the table, positioning himself behind Mike. Mike's face is changed, but it's still Mike. I can see him in there. It's like looking at Mike's younger sister. No facial hair, rounder face, higher cheek bones, bigger eyes, fuller lips. He'll be a pretty breeder, I think. I hope that's all the government has in store for him. "I'm going to put it in now," Tyler says. "Do it!" Mike says. "Please, I need it so bad." I can tell the exact moment Mike loses his virginity. His eyes go wide and round as saucers. His mouth forms an O. He closes his eyes. He makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a howl. Then he smiles. "Yesssss," he says in his new girly voice. "That is so what I need." He rocks back and forth, his smile getting bigger, glee covering his face. Then realization hits him. Somewhere in that silly brain of his, it occurs to him what is about to happen. "Slow down, please..." he says between moans. Slowing down doesn't appear to be an option for Tyler. I can hear the slap, slap, slap of their thighs he drives his cock home, a cock he isn't going to have for much longer. It's Tyler who comes first. I hear him scream like a woman who hasn't cum for a decade, letting it all go, releasing all that pent up energy. Then Mike cums, but he doesn't scream. His face scrunches up into a grimace and he holds his breath as the orgasm runs through him, his body tensing up, turning to steel, and then releasing. I can feel his cock - or should I call it a clitty now, seeing as how he's sissified - squirt out its milk onto me, covering my belly and my pussy. Then the boy closes his eyes, savoring that pleasure. I hope he enjoyed it. It will be the last time he every feels it with his manhood. I hear the door open. "Oh no! No!" Tyler yells. It's the agents. They are taking him. I see a black gloved hand latch onto Mike's shoulder. "Goodbye," Mike says. "Thank you." And then he's gone. Taken. What the hell did he thank me for? Chapter 40 I WATCH DIRK EAT. IT is kind of awesome. A few minutes ago, there had been mounds of food in front of him, a pile of scrambled eggs, two steaks, what looked like all potatoes in State 5, all fried with onions and green peppers mixed in, two big glasses of milk with bubbly froth on top. Now there is nothing in front of him, his plates wiped clean with buttered toasted that also disappeared down his throat. He burps long and loud. "Excuse me," he says. I giggle. It was funny. So what? Rude yes, but still funny. His beard is growing fast, a bushy brown thing that frames his lips. He used to be a pretty boy, his face almost girlish with his chiseled jaw line and cheekbones. Not now. He's handsome, but in a brutal, mannish way. A carpet of hair covers his now meaty chest, with a lighter covering of curls going over his arms thinning somewhat down his forearms and to his massive hands. "You are a lot bigger now," I say. "And you didn't even have to work out. Remember all that time in the gym when we played killball?" "You look more like a cheerleader these days...Kitty." "I prefer, Kat." "I don't give a fuck." He's still an asshole. But he's my asshole, I guess. He looks at me in a dangerous way. I've got to keep him thinking about other things. "You still want to win, right?" "What do you think?" "I think we've got to start taking out competitors. You've got the muscle. I've got, well, me..." "Yeah, Kitty, you look good enough to make a man spurt. I'll give you that." See? Asshole. "I say we start with Sam, the little fat bastard who messed me up in the pageant." "You really want to get that guy off?" "I have something else in mind, but it's not so simple. *** I don't know anything about revolution. I don't know who wants to rebel. Are there organized groups? Is there a mailing list? A secret handshake? A clubhouse somewhere? I couldn't sleep last night, alternating between crying and hitting my pillow in fury. I'm a sissy, but somewhere deep inside there is still a quite manly rage. I want to hit the Secretary of The Games, hit her until he nose is broken and bloody and her eyes are as black a raccoon's. I'm going to kill her one day. And then the President. Right. Of course sissy, and right after you kill them you'll be named President and you'll rule with an iron fist in a pink velvet glove. You silly, silly girl. Beep! My advisor's pad beeps. I have a message. It's from anonymous. The note says... "Is this a friend of yours?" There is a link to a video. I click it. It's Tex, now Bessie, tied down, his boys sucking on his big breasts. He looks so full of milk. His male mind in that body, it must be such torture. I need to help him. The video jump cuts. The boys are now feminized. I can barely recognize them. They kiss, like two new sissies fresh out of a hypno session. But they were never hypnotized. They shouldn't want to kiss like that, not without training. The video jump cuts again. Now they are fucking. And loving it. Of their own free will. No training. No hypno. Nothing but...breast milk? What is going? I get another message on my pad. "Think about what this means." I do. I don't know what to do about it, but I do realize what it means. The government can change men into sissies with just nanos now, mind and body, and fast. I hesitate before responding. This could be a government trick. They could likely be spying on me, tempting me into some kind of treason. I don't care anymore, I decide. I'm a big girl. "Who is this?" I type. There is no response after 20 minutes. I shower, do my make up, dress in a dusty pink silk skirt and a white silk blouse, slide into pink 4-inch stilettos with gold dipped heels, and do my make up, dark smoky eyes of gray and white, soft pink lips, my business look. Still no response. I head out to breakfast. I wonder what the other advisors have to say. *** What? Impossible, the President thinks. After such a spectacular show this morning, the talk of rebellion is higher than it was yesterday, especially in State 9, the biggest state in the union. After that amazing display of technical power, after proving that the government now has the ability to quickly change any man into a sissified, feminized faggot, the men of this country still have the nerve to talk about overthrowing the government. Do they not realizing they are defying a goddess? More proof of my power is needed, it seems. End of Chapter 40 End of Part Ten 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