The Games - Part Eleven free porn video

THE GAMES PART ELEVEN 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 41 TODAY'S CONTEST SEEMS SIMPLE ENOUGH, which immediately makes me suspicious. This is The Games. Nothing is what it seems. Once you think you understand the rules, new rules are written. After breakfast, the newts separate us into blues and sissies. Eight sissies mince down one hall in their heels and short skirts and six blues stride down another hall, all of them looking big, bulky, hairy and incredibly manly, with my Dirk being the biggest. I look at the group of them and feel jealous. I want to be with them, with the men as a man. Instead I walk my curvy ass with the other gurls to a pink room where we are given instructions. "Sissies, your goal in this contest is to, as always, convince us that you are truly embracing your feminine side," the announcer said. "First, we want to see your best sissy walks, and then we will evaluate the feminization of your ass and legs. The best set of legs wins! The audience will vote and the winner will get an amazing prize. First, pick your shoes!" A wall slides away revealing a wall of shoes, a wall of extravagant, sexy, strappy, and aggressively high-heeled shoes. This is what I am reduced to, picking what heels to parade around on in order to once again convince strangers what a girly girl I am. I want to scream. I want to take a pair of stilettos and ram the heels into the eyes of that lizard-faced newt. I look at the other gurls, all now half-feminized, all in various pink outfits created from our ever-morphing skinsuit. There is a ballerina's tutu and tights, along with slipper shoes with ribbons that crisscross up to the knee. There is a tight mini-skirt and satin blouse matched with basic pink pumps. There is a little girl's velvet and lace party dress with ruffles and puffy sleeves. I'm in a slip dress, low cut to show off my boobs, and I have the biggest boobs. I am the most feminized, thanks to the head start I got at the pageant. I'm wearing shiny go-go boots with 4'' heels. I like the boots. The support makes them easier to walk in than the other tall heels I've worn. There's Pie, and she still looks like Pie. She hasn't changed. Why hasn't she changed? She still looks like a pixie, maybe a little more like a girl than a young boy, but still, the nanos barely seem to have done anything to her. She has small breasts, which poke out of the pale pink leotard the skinsuit has turned into. She's wearing pink sandals with 3-inch heels. So modest compared to everyone else. Why the special treatment? "Hey Pie," I say. "How are you doing so far?" "I'm doing great. It's all going according to plan." "Plan? What plan?" "You'll see." She walks away from me and once again she leaves me speechless. What the hell is that gurl about? I set my mind to the task at hand, as I do have yet another game to win. I need to pick a pair of shoes, shoes that will amuse the audience, shoes that will prove to the audience how girly I am, shoes that Janine would approve of, shoes I would want to see on Janine. I love her shoes. She is so damn sexy in them. I feel my cock stir. Nice. It still works. I'm happy about that. I hope I get to fuck Janine again, with a regular-sized cock. "Hurry up girls! You are running out of time!" the announcer says. I scan the shelves. There are basic pumps, strappy sandals, open toes, ankle straps, boots that go above the ankle, boots that go to just below the knee and boots that reach above the knees and fold over like pirate boots. There are a hundred colors, textures and adornments. The only thing each pair has in common is the heel. All the heels are tall, three, four, five and six inches. What pair should I choose? The audience is watching. What do they want to see? Who do they want me to be? What character are the show producers painting? Am I resistant rebellious sissy? Am I flaming girly-girl who has abandoned his masculinity? Am I heroine or a villainess? That is what happens. The producers edit and arrange and tell the story they want to tell. I wonder what story they telling with me. The day The Games started, Janine was wearing a sexy pair of simple black patent leather pumps with a classy pink business suit with a short skirt and satin blouse. She looked incredibly sexy. We had made love the night before. She wore the same heels then, plain black pumps that she kept on her feet as I drove my cock into her boycunt. It would be stupid to choose such basic heels, but I don't care. I want to send a message to Janine. I'm thinking of her. I select a pair almost identical to Janine's, classic black pumps, shiny patent leather, 4-inch heels, and soles of bright pink. They look like her and I smile. I slide my feet into them and they melt on, like they were crafted just for my feet. The other gurls choose their shoes, slip into them. Some of them teeter, others totter, some glide along with surprising grace. There are giggles. There are limp wrists. There are coy smiles and lots of staring into the mirrored wall at their legs, asses and marvelous new shoes. We are all so much more feminine now, so much more girly. Is there any road back? Maybe for one of us, for the winner. I'm going to win. I've got to win, this and every game they throw at us. I walk to the mirror, wink at my reflection, and glide back. My body, now even smaller than it was at the pageant, just floats above these tall heels. My legs, with a wider bottom and strong thighs, have no problem managing the extra 4 inches of height. The other gurls, who lag behind me in the feminization process, aren't a pretty, aren't as graceful, aren't as sissified as me. Good! Maybe that shot I got at the pageant wasn't such a bad thing. Except for Pie, I'm the prettiest sissy, and I have bigger boobs and a bigger butt. "Okay girls!" the announcer says. "Enough admiring of your new shoes and your pretty clothes. It's time to compete! Let's see who can handle those heels. Line up at the red wall please." The wall to my right turns dark red. The opposite wall is a mirror. The remaining walls remain pink. We all assemble against the red wall, face the mirror, and look at ourselves from across the room. What a silly collection of sissies we are. "I think you are all a bit over dressed," the announcer says. I feel my skin suit tingle. It shimmers then retracts back up into the metal collar. I'm naked again, hairless, my breasts free. It's cool in the room and I feel my nipples grow hard. The other girls, who aren't as developed as me, look at my tits, some with jealously, some with lust. I don't blame them. My boobs are lovely, and they are a nice size not too big nor too small. I rather like them...Wait! What the hell am I thinking? I cover them with my arms, leaving my little peeny exposed. The other girls...Some of them look pretty as well. There is a pretty gurl right next to me, with a too strong jaw and black hair in need of a cut and a comb. She has potential though. Her breasts are at the start of their blossom, barely more than bee stings, but they'll be bigger in a day or so. Her cock is nice as well, hard, a good size, smooth and hairless, looking so suckable. I feel my cock begin to rise, as does hers. I watch it with fascination. Our eyes meet. Such a pretty girl, who will be prettier soon. "My name is Daisy," she says. "And you are very beautiful." "You too," I say, and fight the urge to drop to my knees and start sucking her. "Backs against the wall!" the announcer says. We eight girls put our backs against the red wall. Our cocks are all pointing straight out. I look to my left and to my right and see pretty dicks needing to be sucked. I avert my eyes, look across the room. In the mirror across the room, I see the same eight gurls in need of relief, and all wearing gorgeous, exotic shoes. "Now walk!" the announcer says. "Let's see those asses shake! Show the viewers at home how sexy you all are, how feminine, how graceful!" We take a few steps. I'm better at heel walking, but Daisy isn't so bad. We walk toward ourselves, looking at ourselves, seeing what science has done to our bodies. We reach the mirror. I look myself in the eye. I'm a pretty gurl with a thick head of wavy blonde hair, nice tits and a hard cock. As a sissy, I'm sure I'd be well paid. "Touch the wall please girls, both hands," the announcer says. Okay, that seems like a weird command, but okay. I think we all know not to be disobedient. "Now back!" the annoying man says in that cheerful deep voice of his. "Strut! Stride! Let's see some sexy sissy legs gliding gracefully on those delicious heels." I concentrate, putting one foot in front of the other, walking like I'm walk on a line, just like Janine taught me. I bend my arms at the elbows, my hands gently extended to help my balance. I thrust my tits out and my ass behind me. I'm going to win this contest too. The more I win, the closer I get to home, and to Janine. It helps to think about her as I do these sissy things, as I let myself become more like her. The other girls are not nearly as good on heels as me. They are too big, too clumsy, too manly. I'm smaller and lighter. Pie is good. Hell, Pie is great. And Daisy, sweet gurl that she is, she is doing well too, but she isn't nearly as girly as me. We reach the red wall. "Turn and walk back to the mirror," the announcer says. "It's your last chance to gather up votes! Strut like you mean it." I have got my groove on now. I see myself in the mirror and check myself out. I try and turn myself on. Who is that sexy gurl? Look at her strut. Look at that body. Look at that hard little clitty. God I'd love to fuck that sissy. I think I might be in love with myself a little. My cockette is hard, pointing straight ahead, right at that sexy creature in the mirror. "Hands back on the mirror!" the announcer says. "Lean over, let's see those asses. More ladies, lean over more! Show us your money makers. Show us your cunts!" We all lean over, as far as we can, using our hands to stay upright. I have my ass sticking out, my legs spread. The audience at home must be getting one serious eye full of sissy ass by now. My hands sink into the wall. It's not glass it all. It feels like some kind of spongy, sticky rubber. My hands are stuck. The other gurls freak out. "What the hell!" says one, in a femmed voice somewhere between man and gurl. I pull. No give. In fact, my hands go in deeper into the spongy, gluey reflective stuff. They tricked us, again. This is The Games. This is what happens. The rules change. Best to relax and go with it. The other girls don't have the same attitude. They are yelling and pulling, to no avail. I look to my left, and there is Pie. She looks annoyed, and even a little amused. She turns to me. She winks. "Another stupid trick," she says. "I hate these bastards." "Me too," I say. On my right is Daisy, tall, long-legged Daisy. She is tugging and pulling, and just getting her hands in deeper. Tears are running down her face. "Sweety, calm down," I tell her. "You are just making it worse." "I don't want this!" she yells. "I don't want to be a sissy." "What's your name?" "Daisy." "What's your real name? Your boy name." "We're not allowed..." "What is it?" I yell at her. I need her attention. I need to remind her that she is still a he. "Dunstan," she says meekly. "Remember that," I say. "They can do whatever they want to us, but you will always be you." I mean that when I say it. I also can't help but to check out her long, strong legs and round ass waving in the air temptingly. If I were behind her, I would like very much to fuck her. I don't tell her that though. That might be a bit much for her in her current state. "There is a phase in this contest that I neglected to mention," says the announcer. "We are not just testing you sissies, oh no! The men also need a bit of testing. We can't leave them out, now can we?" I look into the mirror. Behind us a door opens in the red wall. Our male, and increasingly manlier, partners walk in, their big cocks bouncing and hard. They are all thick legs, hairy chest and big arms. Didn't some of them used to be thin, even slight? Not anymore. They look like beasts, and they are walking to us, their eyes on our exposed and presented asses. "Line up behind your partners, gentleman," the announcer says. Some of the gurls don't like this at all. "No! No! No!" screams one down at the end. "You stay the fuck back!" yells another one, sounding not manly at all, but like a sissy in distress. The fat fuck Sam stands behind Pie, his hair-covered belly floating over his big cock. He looks bigger now, hairier, with bigger arms. He looked so weak a few days ago, flabby and nerdy. Not anymore. His cock points straight at Pie's hole. Pie continues to look annoyed, like this is just another minor inconvenience. To my right is another big dude, tall, taller than anyone here, as tall as Daisy and with hair as black as her. They must grow them big in whatever state they are from. Behind me is Dirk, my Dirk, still with a smile on his face. "Hey babe," he says. "What are you up to?" "Just hanging around," I say. His cock is still safely tucked into its chastity. I am safe from begin fucked, unlike my feminized friends. "Dirk!" the announcer says. "We can't let the other sissies have all the fun. You want Kitty to have the same experience, don't you?" "Sure. Why not?" he says. From the ceiling, a hole opens and down drops a wire holding a big black dildo. Dirk takes it and the wire retracts back into the ceiling. "Sorry, babe" he says. "We've got to play the game with everyone else." Damn it. This is going to hurt. "Okay then!" the announcer says. "Gentleman, this is a race. You must thrust your cock into your sissy 100 times. The loser gets a huge shot of feminizer and perhaps another punishment, which we will decide later. Ready? Set. Begin!" "This is going to hurt," Dirk says. He spits on the dildo, rubs it, spits again. A scream erupts from across the room. Some gurl already had her cherry popped, her man pumping away at her, fucking away the illusion of masculinity. The illusion of masculinity? Where did I ever get such a thought? I feel Dirk position the dildo against my asshole. This is going to happen. And it's going to hurt. "Sorry, Kitty," he says. "We want to win, don't we?" "Yes!" I say. "Just do it! And my name is Kat." The splitting pain I feel almost makes me pass out. It's like I'm being cut in half. I scream loud and long. The pain is deep in me, winding its way through my belly and up my spine. He pushes it in further and further. I can't take it. I'm going to explode. "Stop please stop!" I yell. "It's almost there," he says. Where is that bottle of anal lube I got as a gift yesterday? I'd give anything for that bottle right now. He stops pushing and the sharpness of the pain dulls to a glowing ache. My brain settles and I can open my eyes again. Dirk is standing next to me, his right hand on the dildo, and his left on my side. His presence is comforting. He's trying to be gentle. He could be pounding away at me, trying to win the contest, but he's not. He's being nice. He's going slowly. I hear moans and screams from the other girls. Some are begging for the fucking to stop. Some are weeping. To my left, Sam is just standing there, his cock hard, but he is making no move to fuck Pie. Pie winks at me. "He knows better," she says. Dirk rams the dildo in again. I yelp. "Relax," Pie tells me. "Open up to it. It will be so much easier." I try to relax, I do, but the damn thing is so big. Dirk rams it in again and I yelp again. I look to my right and there is Daisy, and she is not in pain. Her man is behind her, fucking away, but unlike everyone else, they seem to be enjoying it. Daisy's eyes are closed. Her mouth is open. She's panting, exhaling with every thrust of her partner's dick. Her partner is also lost in ecstasy. Dirk slides it out and in, slowly that time, but with purpose. It was easier that time. I felt something, something deep inside me, something good. He pushes it in, the pain making me moan, but there is another sensation now, like an achy muscle finally being stretched. He shoves it in again, hard this time. "Ohhh my," I say. "Getting better?" he asks. "Yes," I say, barely able to think. "Yes it is. Do it again." He drives it in. It feels wonderful this time. There's no more pain, just a deep, hungry pleasure. What's wrong with me? How could I be enjoying this? What's happening to me? He pumps it into me faster, and faster. The harder he jams it in, the deeper it goes, the better it feels. I notice Pie looking at me. She winks. "Just enjoy it, sweety," she says. "Might as well. Nothing to lose. Just your manhood." I turn to my other side and there is Daisy, rocking back and forth, shoving her boycunt back onto her partner's big cock. He's fucking her fast. His strong, muscled body is a machine, his cock a merciless piston. I wish I was getting fucked by a real cock and not this stupid rubber thing. DING! "The winners are Daisy and Gavin from State 15! Congratulations! You can stop your fucking now..." Gavin moan loudly, then grunts, throws his head back, thrusts his cock one final time into Daisy, who screams in a high pitched girly voice. His body shivers, his dick buried completely into her. His cum leaks from her boycunt, dripping down to the floor, big gobs of it. Then she cums too, her tiny little peeny leaking clear goo onto the floor. Then the tension leaves their bodies. He leans over and holds her. They relax, breathe deeply. They look happy, satisfied. Daisy pulls her hands out of the mirror. She is free. She turns and holds her man, and he holds his sissy. It will be the last time they will do this, know the pleasure of each other. The agents come and escort them away. They hold hands as they walk out and into the unknown. Dirk jams the cock into me fast and furiously, while the other contestants watch the agents walk out the handsome couple. I squeak, a noise I don't believe I have ever made before. "Well then," the announcer. "It seems we'll need another pair of winners. Get to it. The race is still on." The violation of my ass is quick and merciless. With his left arm, he holds me still, controlling me, with his right, he jams that thing into me faster and faster. It feels better every time it goes in. I feel a pressure building in my balls. He needs to slow down, but I can't speak. I can barely breathe. All that comes out of my mouth is a moan. DING! The pumping stops. The thing leaves my ass, and I feel empty, and hungry to be filled again. It seems I've become a whore, needing to be filled. Would Janine be proud? Is this how she feels all the time? What did she think the first time she realized she had a deep need to be fucked in the ass? "And he have new winners!" he says. "Dirk and Kitty have won yet another contest. Two in a row! What a fine showing." The others look at us angrily. I can't blame them. We cheated. Dirk used a dildo and could fuck me fast, not having to worry about cumming. The wall turns to liquid and I pull my hands out of it. It ripples and returns to a perfectly smooth glass plate, like any mirror anywhere else in the world. Nothing is what it seems in this house. I seem to learn that lesson every couple hours. I wrap my arms around Dirk. I'm glad to see him. I'm not really thinking. I just want to feel him, a friendly presence, protective, and his strong arms around me. I don't care what it looks like. I need to be held. Is that so wrong? "And of course we have a loser," the announcer says. "Samuel and Pie from State 14. A very poor showing indeed." Sam, naked except for blue boots, hair covering his stout little body, looks embarrassed. He just stood there. He never even tried to fuck her. His cock is hard enough, a fat piece of meat, thick, too think, and ugly, covered with veins, the head of it almost flat. Pie stands there, looking at us, her little tits erect, as is her pretty little cockette. "Congratulations," she says. "Did you enjoy your fucking Kitty? You boyfriend seemed to enjoy it. He almost made you cum." "My names Kat and he's not my boyfriend." "Our relationship is purely non-sexual, except for when I'm fucking her with a dildo," Dirk says. I then become I aware I have my arms wrapped around Dirk's waist and his arms are around my shoulders. "Right," she says. Two agents approach, followed by a newt. The agents produce syringes. Sam is jabbed in the arm. He closes his eyes. A tear leaks out of his right eye and runs down his cheek. Pie ignores the entire procedure. The needle goes in and out and she doesn't acknowledge the agent or anything else. Instead, she stares at me. "You have potential," she says. "For what?" "You'll find out if you last to the finale." "And what shall the punishment for Pie and Sam be?" the announcer asks. "We'll find out soon. So stay tuned!" Chapter 42 MY NAME IS JANINE AND I am not much of a spy. We are in the mess hall, watching the broadcast. Whoever sent me those messages has gone quiet. I make eye contact with the other advisors. Some of them wink at me. Some of them look embarrassed. One even looks ashamed about what happened to me last night, about what they did to me. None of them are friendly. None of them seem to like me, even though they liked me well enough when I was in cocksucking sissy mode. Bastards. Once again, my boys have won a contest. I'm proud and scared for them. Poor Kip, now Kat, is losing his masculinity so quickly. There will be no saving him soon. He's just following my advice, walking down the sissy road. Yet, I don't want him to go too far. I liked him as a man. I liked him fucking me. I want him back. I want him in my bed, not the skinny little gurl he's become. All the poor boys in that house, all of them changing, their bodies and minds ripped apart and put back together by the government. It used to be a long process, taking a man and turning him into a sissy. He needed to be broken and trained, like I was. Now, with this new tech, the changes happen so fast. I think about how fast those State 9 boys changed. If the government can sissify men with a little nano-spiked milk, then it's over. Men are slaves and the president is an all- powerful goddess. Is rebellion even possible in the face of that? Is freedom no longer an option for mankind? I can't just sit here. I've got to do something. How do I find out who sent me those messages? I have to assume my pen pal is another advisor. If it's not, then I have no chance of discovering who it is. So, maybe let's try this...I'll send out messages over the pad while I watch the others. Maybe one of them will respond. Whoever takes out his pad and looks at it after I send out a message, that will be my spy, my secret messenger. And then what? We wink and go off to the restroom to plan the overthrow of the government? What if those messages actually came from the government? Am I being tricked and trapped? I'm just a sissy, a little cocksucking whore. What difference could I possibly make? I'm no rebel. I'm more interested in fashion revolutions than actual revolutions. I can't just do nothing. Why did they reach out to me? Why did they send me that video of Tex? If they wanted me to do something, why don't they tell me what it is they want me to do? Damn it. I'm not doing nothing. For Tex, and for Kip, and even for Dirk, I will do something. I will do what I can, if only because it's something to do, even it's as worthless as a newt's cock. Who first? There, across the room, keeping to himself, is Piran from State 12. His pad is on the table. He seems to be reading from it as he snacks on the remains of his breakfast. I send a message to my secret messenger: "Hi again. Who are you? What do you want?" Piran doesn't seem to notice anything on his pad. And I get no message back. I wait. Nothing. I half expect agents to burst into the room and drag me out to a dungeon for a serious round of torture, followed by a quick execution for treason. But that doesn't happen either. Okay fine. Let's try again. Sitting on a couch in front of a big TV are three advisors who seem to have made friends, or are at least friendly. Their names are Teague, Riordon and Dieter, from States 15, 16 and 17, respectively. Those three tiny states all share a common accent and many cultural similarities. Something about the extremely cold climate I suppose. A lot of blond, blue-eyed boys come from those three states. Along with towheads, those states also make a lot of cheese and other dairy products. I send another text to my secret spy: "So tell me, do you like cheese?" None of them moves. They keep watching the screen, which continues to show highlights from this morning's contest. One of them curses, apparently unhappy with my Dirk using a dildo on Kat's ass. Sorry sweety, The Games aren't always fair. There are two advisors left, and they aren't in the room, Simon from State 14 and Adrian from State 18. Where could they be? Perhaps they're off in a rebel lair planning the revolution? One can only hope. I get up and head toward the sleep quarters. Perhaps they are still in their rooms. They weren't at breakfast, now that I think about it. Sleeping in? Not likely. I go to Adrian's door. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm going to knock, and what? This is stupid. However, it's not like I've never done anything stupid. At least this is stupid for a good cause. I knock on his door. "Come in!" comes a shout. I open the door; walk in slowly, not sure what exactly I'm walking into. I see Adrian sitting in the chair next to the bed. There is an empty bottle of Vodka on the table next to him. He's unshaven, in a T-shirt and boxers. The room smells of alcohol and cigarettes. This is not my spy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," I turn to leave. "Stop!" he shouts. "You cheating little whore, get back over here, like a good sissy." "You have a good day," I say, not looking back. "I'll pay," he says. "And if I pay, you have to do as I say, isn't that right?" "I'm not on the job. I'm here as an advisor, just like you." "You are still a sealed sissy, correct?" "Yes." "And you took an oath. You can't break it. You know how they punish sissies." Yes, you fucking bastard, I know how they punish sissies. Re-training. More hypnosis. More drugs. More programming, more changing you into the submissive slut they want you to be. I turn. I walk to him. If he has money, I have to take it. I have to serve. It is what I do. I am a sissy. "Let's see the cash," I say, slipping into my hardcore hooker mode. Sometimes you have to be tough with johns. Sometimes they want freebies, and this cum stain is getting nothing for free. "Come over here, I want to see what I'm paying for." I walk to him, stand over him, the cubby drunk. He reeks like an ashtray. I honestly don't know why smoking is still legal. "Oh yes, you are gorgeous," he says, looking me up and down. His hand slides to his cock, rubs it over his boxer shorts. "You have money or not?" "Holy fuck, they really did a number on you didn't they. I look at you, and I don't see any man in you at all. Amazing what science can do these days. You still have a cock?" He tries to reach up my skirt. I slap his hand away. "You get nothing until you pay me." "How about I pay you after?" "How about you go fuck yourself?" "What did you say to me, you little cunt?" I'm done. No money means I have no reason to put up with his shit. I turn to leave. I take a step to the door. He is on me fast, faster than I would have expected for a drunk. An arm goes around my waist. A hand goes around my throat. His hardon pokes at me from behind his boxer shorts. "You fucking pussy," he says. "I'll fuck you and you'll take it like a good whore." His breath is vodka fumes. His lips are next to my right ear. His hand tightens and I stop breathing. I need to stay calm. This isn't the first time a john has attacked me, always a danger in my business. Men often resent sissies, or resent themselves for wanting us. Maybe they see themselves in us, weakened, sissified prostitutes, so to prove how strong and manly they are they lash out. I don't need a beating. I don't need agents involved. And I certainly don't need the Sissy Review Board involved, and if I kill this prick they certainly will be. I need to get out of this room. "Okay, baby, just calm down," I say. He throws me onto the bed. "Get on your fucking knees, whore." Damn. I don't want to do this. I really don't. What choice do I have? This is the life of a sissy. I get on my hands and knees obediently. I present my ass. "There is lube in my purse," I say, hoping he'll use it. "Fuck you," he says. "You should have been nicer to me." He lifts up my skirt. Pulls down my panties, then yanks them, ripping them off me. I close my eyes. This is going to hurt. I feel the tip of his cock press into my rosebud. "This should teach you how to behave like a real sissy," he says. "Hey! Who the fuck are you?" "It doesn't really matter," says a man's voice. I look behind me. A man points a gun at my would-be rapist. He fires the gun, which makes barely a sound. It whispers. Piran falls to the floor. "Yes," says my rescuer. "I like cheese." Chapter 43 THE PRESIDENT DOESN'T WANT TO have to drop bombs. She truly doesn't like killing people. She will if she has to. Bombs do send a message. They will inspire the behavior she wishes from the states. On the downside, they are inelegant. They destroy infrastructure and facilities that have to be rebuilt. It's expensive. It hurts morale. Yet the men in the rebel states still seem to be actively entertaining thoughts of rebellion. They are having secret meetings, throwing the occasional rock at government buildings. A few agents and newts have actually been attacked. The nerve! They need another demonstration of power. They need to see some more technology! The president wants to see this new tech at work as well. By combining nanotechnology, robotics and flesh-growth techniques, scientists seem to have discovered yet another way to feminize men. Such wonderful ingenuity the government has in its employ. Why do men have to be so silly and stubborn? All that talk about freedom. It's tiresome. What did they do with their freedom? They almost wiped out the human race, that's what they did. "You almost created an extinction level event, didn't you Sally?" she asks the sissy in the purple satin party dress who is kneeling at her feet, massaging her tired toes. "No Madam President, not that I can recall," the sissy says. "I'm just a silly sissy who loves to please." "Exactly. And you are perfect, aren't you?" "I hope to perfect for Madam President, but sissy is far from perfect." The beautiful gurl has porcelain skin, plumped lips, pencil-thin, arched eyebrows and mounds of curly red hair. Just adorable is what she is. Pretty sissies always put the president in a good mood. Now, to launch the next little tech demonstration. She presses a button on her computer screen. She issues a command to the newt in The House of Games. "Let's see the device. I want to see it in action." "Yes, Madame President," says the un-manned man. She watches the screen with great anticipation. *** Hadyn and Lawson from District 12 think they are hiding in room at the far side of the house. They ran long and hard, got as far away from the group as they could, and dashed into a white room, a neutral room. Their plan, as it is with many contestants, seems to be to hide. Not this year. This year the president is taking an active hand in guiding The Games. Agents burst into the room, terrifying Hadyn and Lawson. Both boys have straight black hair, tanned skin, and are thin, a little on the short side. State 12 men often make shockingly beautiful sissies because of their genetics. They make lovely men, not handsome exactly, but interesting to look at, and so smart. State 12's primary industries are high technology and electronics manufacturing. Both require nimble fingers and clever brains. Hadyn is the sissy. She is going by Heather now. Very cute, thinks the president. I like that name for a sissy. The gurl is coming along nicely, having slept in a pink room last night and starting out as a slight young man. Her skinsuit has tailored its self into a kind of pink and white sailor suit with mini-shorts in white satin, a pink satin tunic top tied at the neck with a big bow. Her breasts are small, but look perfect on her small frame. Heather will be the perfect candidate for this little experiment. The agents restrain Lawson, who is growing into a tall brute. He slept in a blue room and it shows. State 12ers have little body hair, yet Lawson is sporting a patch of fur on his nicely muscled chest. It's probably the first time in his life he has looked like a real man. With all that testosterone flooding his system, it will be interesting to see his response to the new Heather. His hands are cuffed and he is shoved to the floor over in a corner, out of the way. Heather looks so terrified now. She knows she is the focus of whatever is about to occur. The fear on her face is exciting, and the president feels her pussy grow moist. She leans forward, fascinated. She doesn't want to miss a second of this. The newt speaks to Heather. The president turns up the sound. "You have a choice, Heather," the newt says, his voice at once understanding, sympathetic and yet firm. "You first choice is to take Lawson with you on the sissy path. We will confine you to this room for the next 12 hours, and you and he will both be subject to the feminizing nano-gas and subliminal mind training that happens to those who dwell in pink rooms." "No! Please, no," she pleads. "Don't do that to Lawson. I'm the sissy, not him. Let him stay a man." "Then you will be interested in your second choice," says the newt. "There is an experimental device we would like you to wear." "Experimental? What does it do?" "I can't tell you until you are wearing it." "I don't know." "I can tell you that wearing it might give you a certain advantage over your competitors. However, it is experimental. There could be side effects and unexpected consequences." "Don't do it, Heather!" shouts Lawson from the floor. "You can't trust the newts!" One of the agents kicks Lawson hard in the face. Blood from his now broken nose splatters onto the wall. Lawson howls in pain. "Now, Heather, which do you choose? Sissification for Lawson, or would you like to try your luck with our little experimental garment." Heather looks down at Lawson, who is on his stomach, blood pouring from his nose and onto the floor. He looks so pitiful down there. The gurl looks at the newt, a certain amount of determination in her eyes. "Lawson must win, and win honorably. My duty, as was given to me by our sensei, is to ensure Lawson remains fully a man, and so I will gladly do as you wish." "Wonderful!" the newt says. "You have chosen to be our test subject. Appling the garment will take no time at all. But first, we must undress you." The adorable sissy sailor outfit shimmers then shrinks away, leaving a quite naked Heather. She naturally covers her breasts and her clitty with her hands. She is adorable! Such a feminine gesture, and done with so little training. She will be a wonderful slut one day, thinks the president. "I'm afraid modest will not be helpful," says the newt. "Would you mind lifting your hand away from your member? We need to take some measurements." She lifts her hand and reveals a small little penis, no bigger than a boy's. It is there though. At the moment, she is a male, any doctor would agree. The newt points at her dick a medical monitor, a thing about the size and shape of a cigar with a small square screen at the end of it. "Very good," the newt says. "A perfectly functional penis, somewhat below normal size, but quite useful. Also, your testicles are producing testosterone and sperm at normal rates. In fact, ironically, your testosterone levels are quite high for someone who spent a night in a pink room. You must be quite a randy young man." "Thank you?" Heather seems confused by the complimentary tone of the newt. "Indeed, you are the perfect trial subject for this new invention." The newt removes the garment from somewhere within his purple robes. It's amazing how much a newt can carry with those garish garments. He holds up a pair of flesh-toned panties that appear made of rubber, as they shine pleasantly, and somewhat erotically. They are clearly made for a man as there is a pouch in front, meant to accommodate a penis and balls. "Put these on please," he says and holds them out to Heather. The gurl is so scared her bottom lip is quivering. Lovely. "Just step into them as you would a normal pair of panties," the newt says. "But they aren't a normal pair of panties, are they?" Heather asks. "Of course not," comes the answer. "Now proceed." "Don't do it!" screams Lawson from the floor. Silly boy. He gets a kick in his ribs from an agent for his troubles. "Please don't hurt him," Heather says. She does seem to have a crush on the boy. "I recommend you comply then," the newt says. "The sooner we begin our experiment, the sooner we will leave you and let you enjoy the rest of The Games." She takes the panties. Holds them up to her face, inspecting them. They don't look at all unusual, well, unusual for a pair of rubber panties. She steps into them, pulls them up her thin legs until they cover her genitals and ass. They quietly snap into place, a nice tight fit. Quite attractive on her really. Her ass looks good in them, and her tiny cock encased in tight latex is quite sexy. "Now what?" she asks with a tremendous amount of fear in her voice. She is trying to be brave, but her quivering lips, shaking hands and eyes welling full of tears give her away. "I turn them on," says the newt. He removes a small white box from his robe, and presses a button. The panties go from flesh tone to a hot pink. "They will be pink while they work," he says. "Then will fade back to flesh tone when done." "Done doing what?" "Melting your manhood away, of course," he says. "What?" she says. "No! Please, no!" Oh the wonderful shrieks of horror that come out of that lovely mouth. The president is quite pleased and almost orgasms just listening to them. "Oh yes," says the newt. "Those panties will release a cocktail of chemical and nanos that quite literally melt flesh. The good news is that there is also a numbing agent, so you won't feel much pain. Maybe some slight burning." The bulge in the front of the panties grows a bit. "That's the melting fluids," says the newt. "Ironically it makes it look like your manhood got bigger. That won't last long." Heather reaches down, tries to take them off, but can't get her thumbs into the waist band. An agent grabs her from behind, pulls her arms back. "No!" she yells. "Please no. I'll be a good sissy. I promise." "You will be the best kind of sissy," the newt says. "A sissy with a cunt. That's what this tech does. You'll have a wonderful sex slit for men to cum into, but you won't be able to bare children. And we can make this alteration in just a few minutes. Isn't that wonderful?" "Oh god it burns!" The gurl does seem in great pain. Perhaps more numbing agent is required. Ah well. These panties are just a prototype. Improvements will be made. "I am sorry about the pain, but I need you stand still," says the newt. "It's important for science that we get good video of this event. You are a first! The first sissy with a cunt!" The bulge in the panties shrinks, going down in size, then down some more and then more, until the bulge is gone. The girl stops struggling. She just blubbers. The pain appears to be gone. "Melted away," says the newt. "All gone now, except for the parts we need. We still want you producing some level of testosterone, to keep you horny and trainable, and we want you to enjoy sex, so the nerve system is left largely intact." The panties take on a glow, radiating a soft pink light. "Now that the destruction of your cock and balls is done, the panties will now begin the building phase, fashioning what we will call a sissypuss. A sissy puss is a vagina slit to be fucked by men. The difference between a real vagina and what you will have is that you won't have a clit outside of the canal, like a woman. Your pleasure button will be deep inside your pouch. For you to orgasm, you'll need something long, round and hard to fill you and press on those nerve endings that we have collected from your cock. Clever, no?" Heather shutters and shakes. Something is happening to her. She looks barely conscious. "Yes, it might be a pleasurable experience," says the newt. "That is because the moving nerve endings are stimulated and sending a huge amount of pleasure signals to your brain. Being cunted like this is potentially the most pleasure you will ever feel in your life. Science can be merciful, and generous, can't it?" Heather's eyes open. She looks dazed, like she just woke up from a deep sleep. She relaxes, leans against the agent that was restraining her. The panties stop glowing and return to their former beige color. The newt steps closer to her. He gently takes the top of the panties and peels off a strip like he's taking the peel off an apple. He strips away the latex until there is nothing left and Heather's new sissypuss is exposed. It looks like a hairless vagina with small lips surrounding the entrance. "And there you are, my dear," he says. "Good luck in The Games. Enjoy yourself." The camera zooms in on Heather's crotch. The sissypuss is hairless, plump, pink and really looks quite beautiful. Heather should be thankful, the president thinks. *** The government PR agency is quick with an edited video that is well promoted during The Games. Anyone caught promoting rebellion will be severely punished, sissified and then put into Cunting Panties. "That should teach them," says the president. Don't fuck with me if you want to keep on fucking like men. End of Chapter 43 End of Part Eleven To Be Continued in January Don't forget to leave a review! Thanks! 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