The Games - Part Thirteen free porn video

THE GAMES PART THIRTEEN 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 If you have read this far, then thank you! I hope you have enjoyed yourself. Could I ask one small favor? Please leave a review, just a line or so will do. Thank you! And now, on with the story... Chapter 50 THE PRESIDENT FEELS NOTHING BUT pride. Look at what she has accomplished. A nation obeys her every whim. Her commands become law as soon as she says them. It was her vision to shape this society, to bring men to heel, to lift up genetic women and empower them, and to do so through discipline, through economic controls, through military might and through, most importantly, technology. She didn't invent the technology that gives her such power, of course not. Invention is not her job. Vision is. Scientists and engineers need guidance and focus. They need to be told what to make. They need to be rewarded when they succeed and punished when they fail. Just like all men, really. Because of her uncompromising vision, the ability to transform men into sissies and breeders and other useful creatures exists, which means the ability to enslave the unruly creatures exists. The world is a better place for it. Her scientists' latest efforts have her truly thrilled. Whoever made this new nano tech, this amazing ability to alter faces, they would be well rewarded indeed. She looks at Kat, and see a perfection, a pinnacle, and a power that no world leader has ever had, not Caesar, not Alexander, not Hitler, not Stalin, not Dewitt, no Al Aquez. Those pitiful men might have had a few statues erected to mark their glory, perhaps a few impressive monuments, but how many of them have had actual people re-created into their image? She looks at Kat and sees a glorious tribute to herself. The sissy wears a perfect replica of the president's lovely face. The president imagines thousands of citizens, men, women and sissies, all submitting to have their faces altered, all wanting to be a reflection of the greatest leader in the history of the Earth. The plan comes to her as she watches Kat wander the halls of the house. It almost looks as if the president herself is in the house, except for that horrible bulge in the sissy's panties. A new law comes to mind. She will mandate that all sissies must wear the face of the president. She wants to further erase the personalities and individualities that sissies now enjoy. When they cease to be men, when they become sissies, they will take the face of the president. She will allow them different hair colors, sure. It would be boring otherwise. However, every sissy will have the same face, and every time a man makes love to a sissy, he will know who is giving him his pleasure, giving him what he needs, the rare bit of ecstasy in his life of obedience and servitude. Should she mandate the immediate facial conversions of all sissies? Should she force them all into facial-changing factories, with the goal of converting all two million or so sissies within a few weeks? Or would it be better to introduce the new policy just for new sissies, and let the young ones be the first to display her perfect feminine visage? Over time, these new sissies, all with the same striking face, will overtake the older ones, replacing them. Soon, the most desirable sissies will carry the correct face, and all the gurls with their old faces will be begging for a new one. Oh wait! An even better idea occurs to her. This is exactly what the president should do. Sissies with their old faces will be forced by law to charge very low prices, no more than 10 credits per hour. At that price, any man, no matter how poor or decrepit, will be able to have a sissies services. However, those with The Face of Perfection? (the president makes a note to herself to trademark that name) will be required to charge 100 credits per hour, or more. Yes! Sissies will happily volunteer for the facial change. No rebellion then, no complaining. If you want to make the most money, change your face to that of your beloved leader. Perfect. Another perfect scheme! The president is having such a good day. If only those reports of rebellion brewing would go away. The president presses the intercom button and speaks to her administrative assistant. "Be a dear and send in the Chief of Eunuchs. We have much to discuss." ### An impressively fat eunuch stands before her, bowing as a best a man can who happens to be the size and shape of a hippopotamus. The newt's name is Ian. His flowing, purple robes could be used as a tent for a family of five. His head is a large white egg, yet somehow, his neck is larger, with layers and rolls of fat that drip and sag like melting wax. Looking at him always gives her unsettling conflicting desires. One the one hand, she never wants to see this man mountain naked, as his white, pasty, undulating, gelatinous flesh would surely make her vomit. On the other hand, she can't help but be curious as to what this freak of nature looks like without clothes. How big are his breasts? How big is his penis? Is it fat as well? How low does his belly hang? To his thighs? His knees? His ankles? She shakes her head, trying to clear away the image. It is a challenge. "What can I help you with, dear Madam President," Ian says in his squeaky, girlish voice. "I have a new program of alteration for sissies, and wish it to be put into effect immediately," she tells the newt, and then explains her new desire. He nods, listening to the plan, occasionally, asking a clarifying question. When she finishes, he looks her in the eyes. His are violet, an odd color that sometimes occurs in newts. Their sect takes a variety of rare and exotic drugs. Over time their eyes and lips change to colors of often shocking hues. "It shall be done as quickly as I can make it done," he says. "Thank you, Ian," she says. "I always appreciate your efficiency." ### Ian walks from the president's hall, his face a placid pool of calm. The only clue to his distress is the quick pace at which he walks. He normally strides gracefully, majestically. Now he is practically trotting. He bursts into a meeting room, where ten other purple robed newts are seated around a large black -lacquered round table. "She has officially lost her mind," he tells the group. He explains her new plan. They don't believe him. They laugh. They think he is joking. Slowly, as he tells the story over and over again, the realization sinks in. The president is truly insane and not just drunk with power. She was that for years. Now she has truly lost touch with reality. "It is as we are taught, absolute power corrupts absolutely," Ian tells them. That they agree with. There is silence for a few moments as they ponder what to do. "I have a thought," says one, a newt named Teddy, fresh from the university. His nullification was only two years ago. He still sometimes displays the ego and ambition that castration is meant to dull. Still, he is bright, creative and does show promise. Ian likes him, and is interested in what he has to say. "Yes, Teddy," Ian says. "What do you have in mind?" "It might sound crazy." "You are in a room of men who willingly had their genitals cut off. We are hairless, wear purple silk robes, look like freaks, and yet we control the levers of power that keep society running. Crazy is perfectly normal for us. Now...Tell us your thoughts..." "So Kat looks just the president now, right?" "Yes, from what I could see, he is quite similar." "Except for his cock." "Yes, except for that." "Here is my idea..." Teddy explains, and Ian listens, as do the others. It's quite an idea. And it just might work. Chapter 51 I'M KIP'S FATHER AND I'M worried. My son's name now seems to be Kat, and the announcer calls him Kitty. It's been hours since he has been on the show. I've been staring at the TV since early this morning, waiting for him to come on screen. My son, Zach, watches with me. Zach is worried too. Zach also makes comments about what the sissies are wearing and how fun it would be to walk in high heels. I worry about my Zach sometimes, but he's a good boy. They've been showing a lot of highlights, and a lot of them have Kip in them, Kip and Dirk. Kip before the pageant, my big boy, strong as an ox, a miner, good with a pick axe and strong enough to handle a jack hammer all by himself. Then they show him at the pageant, all made up like a girl in a gown. It didn't look right on him, but the makeup made his face look a little like his mother. Kind of made me sad. He was going to be one for the blue road, the man's road, for sure. As a sissy, he looks hopeless. Then they show him after those first two feminizer shots, after that fat boy cheated. The changes were so fast. The next day he didn't look like himself anymore. He looked like a younger smaller version of himself, weaker, thinner. They show him developing as The Games go on, his shrinking. You can see it in his arms. They got so thin. His legs got skinny too, except for his rear end and thighs. Those got thick, like a sissy's thighs, like a woman's. His waist got thin, and he took on an hourglass shape. His boobs, oh boy, his boobs. They got big fast, also like his mother, who had nice ones. They finish the highlight package with Dirk ramming my son's asshole with a big black dildo. At least it wasn't a real cock. Oh lord in heaven, this has got to stop. When the hell is this rebellion going to start? What are we waiting for? What more proof do we need that this horror show of a government needs to end? When are we going to kill the president and get on with our lives? I keep on watching the TV and waiting, waiting for some sign of my son, waiting for someone to tell me the civil war has started. I wait. ### My name is Kat, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. This is a silly game. Surely there is some point someone is trying to make. I'm just not getting it. They changed my face, but they won't allow me to see it. They sent me out into these endless hallways and I wander around with nothing to do. I am getting more comfortable wearing these heels. The pair I'm wearing is at least 5 inches high, and the nanos in my calves and thighs are strengthening the muscles I need to walk in them. Soon I won't be able to walk in bare feet, just like Janine. Ah Janine, where are you? When is my next gift coming? Other than the heels, I'm naked, my feminized body on display, my tiny cock bouncing around for all to see, my budding breasts exposed to a television audience of millions. I'm alone, and it's easy to think no is watching, that no one cares about my new body and its curves and its fuckable ass and this new face of mine, whatever it is. But I'm not alone, am I? I'm a TV star, and people are sitting in front of their TV, eating dinner (is it dinner time?) and talking about me, complaining that I'm not fighting to maintain my manhood enough, or criticizing how I'm walking, or debating what outfit I should wear during the next game. Wait a second. Speaking of outfits, it turns out that I might be getting a new one. My collar is vibrating. I wonder what I'll be wearing next. Something sexy and slinky? Something sissy and satiny? Something stern and stiff? Something silly? God I wish they would just let me dress myself. Why can't they give me at least that much? The body suit drops over me and takes shape, wrapping around me, pulling into me, touching me all over. It certainly is easy to get dressed around here. Wait. What is this? Why am I wearing this? I'm wearing a conservative business suit. It's not even pink. It's not really sexy, maybe a little, as the skirt is a bit above my knees, but overall, I'm dressed like a government minister. My black suede pumps are a modest 4-inches, so subdued compared to the other shoes they've had me wear. On my legs are tan hose, silky, nice to touch. The tight black skirt seems so basic and plain, but still classy, as the material is thick and soft. Still, it is so conservative. My blouse is white silk with lace cuffs and sharp collar also edged in lace, a subtle feminine touch, but not at all over the top. My jacket is short sleeved, and tailored tight in the middle, accenting my now small waist. There is a string of pearls around my neck and a pearl bracelet around my left wrist. The bodysuit really is amazing. I look down at myself and I look totally and completely normal, just like a business woman headed off to work. I wish I could look in a mirror. I feel good like this, more confident, not as exposed and vulnerable. I wish I could do something with my hair and apply a little makeup. If I'm going to dress nice, then I'd like to look nice. What the hell am I thinking? It's their game. I don't need to help them. They can come and do my make up if they want me in makeup. I wonder if they will. I find myself hoping they will. I really need to get out of this house. I am thinking way too many sissy thoughts at this point. So what's the game? "Come on, assholes!" I shout in my feminized voice. "Let's see what you have in store? Why am I dressed like this? Am I going to be someone's secretary? Am I running for office? Let's go!" No answer, then still no answer, and then more nothing. Something weird is happening. I don't know what. Something feels off. Where is the announcer telling me what to do next? Finally, an arrow glows yellow within the red velvet wallpaper. I've got nothing better to do. I walk, taking short steps as this skirt is very tight. More arrows appear. They take me to a door, yet another door, yet another room. What horror is behind this one? I open it, and there he is, my nemesis Sam. He's naked except for the metal band around his neck. He's strapped down onto a submission chair, arms by his sides in shackles, legs immobilized and spread with thick nylon straps. He's tilted back a bit, so he's not lying down, but not sitting up. Reclining is the best word I suppose. His big white smooth belly is prominent. He almost looks pregnant. The shot of feminizer has done its work and he now sports two plump little breasts. His cock is small and hard and pointing straight up in the air. I could finish him right now. He's the reason I'm in this dress and not sleeping in a blue room like a real man. He's the one who caused my fall on the stage. He's the reason the entire country has watched me suck cocks and get fucked with a big dildo. Oh god, his cock looks tasty, so plump and cute and friendly looking. I'd love to slide it in my mouth...stop it! I thought that cocksucker hypno suggestion would have worn off by now. I guess it hasn't because my mouth is watering, and my backside is aching to be filled. I better do this fast, before I cream my panties. I'm going to jack him off and smear his cum all over his face, letting him go off to the breeder factory knowing I beat him, that I got even. I walk into the room, my heels clicking on the floor. He looks at me, and his eyes grow wide. His face is covered in fear and disbelief. He must recognize me. My face can't be that different if this fat little asshole can still see who I am. "You're here!" he says with shock. I walk to him slowly, striding, smiling. His cock is twitching with excitement. I really must be hot. Why don't they let me see myself! "Yes, silly boy, me," I say in a voice I don't recognize. It is feminine, definitely all woman. The nanos or the face thing changed it. But to what? It sounds familiar. I can't place it. I've heard it before. "What are you doing here?" "I'm here to finish you off, my pretty little pudge." "No, please no, madam," he pleads. "I'll be good." What is with the madam stuff? Weird. Maybe it's the suit? "You make a cute sissy, I have to admit. The feminizer did nice things for your face, made it rounder, gave you some lips to pout with. Much better, I think." "Thank you, madam. Thank you so much." "Why are you calling me madam?" "What else am I supposed to call you?" Maybe it's just something they say in State 14. Maybe they call sissies madam? Is he being a smart ass? He seems too scared. I don't think he's trying to be clever. "Well, Sam, before I wrap my hand around your cock and cum you out, I want you to tell me one thing." He sniffles. He knows he's done. He's already given in. "Yes, madam," he says. "I'll tell you anything." "The pageant, tell me what you did in the pageant. How did you cheat?" "I'm sorry, madam. I was told to, ordered to. They...they made me." "Who?" "The rebellion. They are trying to overthrow the government, and it has something to do with The Games." "What did you do?" "I had a squirt bottle, a little atomizer filled with micro-lubricant. It evaporates after you use it. That guy, Kip, he was going to win the pageant. He had the votes, and it needed to be Pie. Pie needed to win." What the hell? What is going on? I'm getting scared. I don't want to be part of the rebellion. I just want to get out of this house with my cock still attached. "Why? Why did she need to win?" "Because she is proof." "Proof of what?" "I don't know, I swear I don't know. That's all they told me. Proof. Please don't kill me." "Kill you?" "Because I'm a rebel." "Why would you think I would kill you?" "Because..." He seems afraid to say whatever is on his mind. "Say it," I tell him. "Say it and everything will be okay." I stroke his cock just to make him feel better. It's hot in my hand, a metal rod wrapped in velvet. I resist the urge to suck it. Our eyes meet. There is fear in his face. I am something more to him than just another competitor. I am some kind of demon, a monster about to breath fire, roast him and eat him. In that moment, I am flooded with pity. He is not evil, and not my enemy. He's just another man caught up in the machinery of the government. He's a victim, as am I. He has spent his entire life dreading this moment when his manhood would be threatened, ripped away from him. Now he tells me he's a rebel and that he was doing the one sensible thing that a man can do, try to overthrow the president, try to make a difference. I stop playing with him. I can't do it. I can't sentence him to the breeder farm. But I do want to know what's going on. "Tell me," I say. "Why? Why would I kill you?" "Because...you are the president." ### The president screams into the phone at her head of security. "You find him!" she screams. "You find Ian right now! Bring that dickless turd here naked, bleeding, with his hands in cuffs, and a broomstick shoved up his ass!" She slams down the phone. The day had been going so well. Her plan was perfect. The technology was incredible. The rebellion's spirit would be broken. All that fat, disgusting eunuch had to do was follow orders. And now! Now! Just look at what's on TV. That fat little bastard confessing that he cheated, confirming what the president had been trying to prove as false. Now the richies would be pissed. And the peasants would be in a rage. The men will be screaming for her head. She will fix them all! She will show them who they are fucking with. First, she needed to get this shit off of the TV. This is not good, the truth getting out. The truth is bad for everyone. ### The president? What the hell is Sam talking about? Why would he think...? My face. My face is changed. That's why no mirrors. That's what the surprise is. That evil bitch has stamped her face on top of mine. That's what the face mold did. "You think I'm the president?" I ask. That's her voice coming out of my mouth. Now I recognize it. It's the voice that comes out of the TV every day, telling us to behave, to obey the law, to contribute to society. It's the voice that tells us that good men are submissive men, that work is virtue, that obedience will always be rewarded. I know the voice well. "Tell me about this rebel plot to sabotage The Games then. Tell me your grand plan." "The plan is for Pie to win, and I'm supposed to help her. During the finale, when everyone is watching, Pie will reveal the proof." "Proof of what?" "I can't tell you!" Fuck you, you little bastard. I'm the president, and I want to know. I grab his cock again. I stroke him, making him good and hard. "You want to keep this pathetic little cock?" I ask, trying to sound mean. I succeed. "Yes," he says. "Then tell me or I stroke you off right now." "I'd rather be a breeder!" He cums, right there, on demand, milky ropes of slop pumping out of his dick and slapping onto my hand. Disgusting. Two black-suited agents storm into the room and head toward Sam. They are going to drag him away to have his new vagina installed. I figure I'll try something with my new face and voice. "Hey!" I say. They turn to me, their masks as creepy as ever. What is going on behind them? What are they thinking? How deep is their training? "Stand at attention," I say. They do. "Lift you right arms into the air." They do. Holy shit. They follow my orders just like I'm her. Interesting. I'm going to have to remember that trick for later. "Proceed," I say. They turn from me and go back to their task. They unstrap Sam from the submission chair and take him away, leaving me, their president, alone in the room. The wall opposite the door, a plain white wall, shimmers and turns into a mirror. I can see myself now. I look just like her. I'm even wearing makeup, permanent make up, red lips, blush, black liner around the eyes, muted green eye shadow. My hair is done as well, a serious no nonsense cut, straight chestnut blonde hair, severe bangs over my eyes. I am beautiful but stern-looking, an icy blond with cold blue eyes. I'm her twin. Is this a new game? What am I supposed to do now? Am I still trying to win? Chapter 52 MY NAME IS DIRK. I am strapped down into a goddamn submission chair. I don't know how I got here. I just woke up. I was in the room with Kat, and she had her face caught in that thing that looked kind of like sink or a bowl. I was about to rip her out of it when everything went dark, just like that. Lights out. Now I'm here. It's not fair. I've played by the rules. I didn't do anything wrong. Why can't they stop cheating? Let me win The Games fair and square. I've been ready for this my entire life. I'm more man than anyone here. I will prove it. Even though I'm tied down and all ready for some sissy to jack me off and cum me out, I will still win this fucking game and walk out of this house with cock and balls intact. I'm pissed is what I am. Good and pissed. I pull against the straps, pull hard, until my shoulders are burning and my biceps are popping. No give. Not even a bit of a squeak. These chairs are made out of the same indestructible plastic they make buildings and bridges and rockets out of. I'm naked. A bed of thick black hair covers my body. There is a lot more of it than there used to be. My arms are bigger, as are my chest and legs. My stomach ripples with muscle, looks like a cobblestone road. Good god, I wish I was this strong when I was playing killball. I probably could have gone pro. My cock, I wonder how big it is now. It must be huge! I can't tell. The little chastity device remains locked around my manhood, a bubble of dark blue plastic with a piss slit. They can send in a dozen sissies to jack me off; it wouldn't matter. They won't be able to get past that thing. I'm safe for now. I just need to get out of this chair and I'll be back in business. I pull again, straining my new biceps to the breaking point. I shout like I'm a marine attacking a machine gun nest. I pour every ounce of energy into my arms. I don't care if I dislocate my shoulders. I don't care if I break my arms. I'm going to get out of this chair one way or another. Fuck! It doesn't budge I'm stuck. The door opens. Ah shit. I'm in trouble. Sissies. And they are gorgeous. "Oh my!" says the one on the right, a blonde. "A present!" "Delicious," says the one on the left, a redhead. "All that man meat just for us!" "He's got a thing on his cock. No fun!" "What do we do about that?" "I dunno. I'm stumped." "Hey girls," I say, trying to be nice, trying to be unthreatening. "Could you help me out? They giggle at me. It was a stupid question. I'll try another angle. Maybe I can charm them. They are sissies, and sissies do like big hairy men like me. "What are your names?" I ask. "My name is Desire," says the blonde, proudly, sexually, like she wants to be fucked. I think her name used to be Deforest. Desire is a way better name for this sexpot. "I'm Carla," says the redhead, "and I like cock." She has clearly been getting some hypno training. Her eyes are focused on my chastity device, and she looks angry. "How do we get that thing off of you?" "Only I can take it off. It's a some kind of crazy government tech. It will unlock if I touch it with my index finger." That's a lie of course. I was told when Kip put it on me that it could be melted off with water. These two sluts don't need to know that though. And I don't need to have my cock free. They are exceedingly hot sissies and I am horny as shit. Desire has straight blonde hair that falls past her shoulders and just barely brushes the top of her cleavage. Her shoulders, once a man's, are now thin and round. Her eyes are big and blue, with long lashes and dark mascara and eye shadow. Someone has been playing with makeup. She smiles at me, all white teeth and pink, glossy lips. She's wearing a corset with a red satin panel in front and black leather everywhere else. It pulls her waist in, gives her a nice round S-shaped figure. She is wearing black leather panties. I can make out a small bulge in them. A sissy-sized cock is in there, and I'm sure it is adorable. I've always liked sissies with small cocks. They are always the closest to real girls. The garters of the corset are attached to black fishnet stockings that just look sexy as hell on her tanned and toned legs. Her shoes are outlandish 6-inch strappy heels with a thin strap around her ankles, a thin strap around her toes and a bright-red pencil-thin heel. I could almost cum just looking at her. But Carla is even hotter somehow. Carla looks like a lady, a sexy lady, but one dressed for some kind of swanky party. A shiny, hot pink dress wraps around her curves like silk bandages. I'd like to unwrap her like a present and see what's underneath. Her face is long and elegant, with high cheeks bones, delicate lips, a thin nose and almond-shaped eyes, giving her an exotic mysterious look. Just my type. I've always liked them thin and serious. Bubbly blonde types like Desire are not really my thing. I like a girl who looks like she will cut someone if she gets crossed. I like danger. I like a challenge. So yeah, I like both these sissies, and I need to trick them into letting me loose. "I suppose it would be okay to let loose one of your arms," says Desire. "He's bullshiting," says Carla. "It's a lie." "Come on Carla," I say. "You're the one who wants to suck my cock. And trust me, I want it sucked. I'm horny as fuck and need a blow job in the worst way." "I don't believe you," she says. She standing right next to me, looking down at me. I want to reach out and pull her into me. I want to grab her ass, suck her tits. My cock is straining to get out of the thing, trying to get hard. "You know, I heard that a guy doesn't need to get hard to cum," Desire says. "I heard that if a guy is horny enough, and wants it bad enough, he'll just explode without controlling it." "Interesting theory," Carla says. "Let's test it out. Let's give him a little show. Come here" Desire strides over to Carla and the two gurls embrace and start kissing. Their little clit sticks get hard. Carla's peeks its pink head above her tiny panties, and Desire pops a tent in her tight dress. I want to look away but can't. These are the hottest sissies I've ever seen. I want to fuck them both, one right after the other, filling their cunts up with cum. They take turns sucking each other's tongues. They press their clits together, rubbing them into each other. Desire drops to her knees and pulls up Carla's dress. Her cock springs free. It's thin with a round head like a lollipop. It's pretty. Desire takes it all into her wet mouth and sucks. She moans with delight and Carla closes her eyes, clearly enjoying the attention. "Easy, you little bitch," Carla says. "The idea is to make him cum, not me." "I'm not going to cum," I say. "You two can fuck yourselves silly, and I will enjoy the show, but I am not going to cum until my cock is inside one of you." "We'll see," says Carla, who gently, almost casually, fucks Desire's face. Desire is lost in her cock-sucking world. She looks so happy and hot on her knees, doing what she was trained to do. Carla reaches over and runs a hot pink finger nail over my cheek, down my neck, across my chest, and to my nipple, which she gently flicks. That causes my cock to twitch. "I never wanted guys, sexually," Carla says. "I didn't even like to look at other guys. In the showers at school or at the mine after a shift, a guy's penis kind of made me nauseous. Now, I'm completely different. All I can think about is sucking on cock. I know it's just the hypno training, and the nanos, but when you think about it, what was I so worried about? Cocks are pretty. Cocks are the source of pleasure. Why be afraid of them? Right, Desire?" Desire grunts an affirmation, her mouth full of Carla's sissy stick. "Once I started liking cocks, I realized that the other parts of a man are interesting as well. Men have their own beauty. I never noticed it before I spent a night in this house." Her hand runs down my chest to my mid-section, to my pubes. Waves of pleasure run through me. I like her touching me. I want to slide my cock into that pretty mouth and hear her gag on it. She wraps her hand around the blue plastic chastity device, gives it a firm shake. She's pulls on it, yanking my balls. It hurts, but in a good way. I grunt and kind of growl. I can't really speak. My brain is in fuck mode and the parts of brain used for speech are busy wondering how tight her little asshole would be. "It's on there pretty good," Carla says. "But we need to take it off. It's just another puzzle, like everything else in The Games." Okay, I need to get it together. This bitch is looking to cum me out and I need to stay in this house. I need to win. I see that Desire is still going at it, faster, slurping now, making all kinds of fun noise. I can't fuck Carla, but I bet I know how to make her cum. If she had the same hypno training as Kip, then I know exactly what button to push. "Oh yeah, you little sissy slut. You've got my big cock hard for you. I'm going to fill your mouth with it. I'm going to cum down your throat and wipe it all over your pretty lips. Then I'm going to fuck your tight little sissy ass until you squirt your sissy milk like a good girl..." "Oh shit, oh shit, shiiiit!" she yells, then squeals. He body shudders and shakes. She almost falls over. I know what that was. Little Desire is sucking away. She finally pulls her face away from Carla's clit. "Delicious," Desire says, licking her lips. "Ah shit," Carla says. "I was so close." "Bummer," I say. "You are going to be one hot breeder though. I will look you up." "Will you?" "Oh yeah," I say. The agents walk into the room and take her by the arms, walk her out. She's gone, leaving me with the lovely Desire. "I guess it's just you and me," I say. "Yeah, but you're no fun with that thing on your cock." "Sorry sweety. It stays." PONG! "Gift for Desire," says the female computer voice. "Oh goodie!" she says with girlish delight. A glass of water descends from the ceiling, held aloft by a retractable wire. "Oh," she says. "What am I supposed to do with that?" "Your trainer must think you are thirsty," I say. I hope she is as dumb as she looks. "I'm not thirsty though. Maybe it's not water? Is it something else?" "No idea. You should drink it and see." She takes the glass and the wire ascends back into the ceiling. She puts the glass to her lips. "Nope," she says. "Tastes like water." "You should drink it all, just to be sure." "Why do you want me to drink this water so much?" "I'm just trying to be helpful. It's in my nature." "You didn't help Carla. You tricked her. And now you're trying to trick me." "Not at all! I just want out of this chair. Can't you let me loose? We can be friends. I'll help you. I promise." She looks at me for a second. She's thinking, and it is adorable. Her face is so pretty, such big puffy lips, such big eyes, like a doe. Watching her try to squeeze thoughts out of her brain kind of makes me love her. I really do want to protect her, give her a house, fill her up with babies. "I think I have an idea," she says. Well that is news I think but don't say. "What would that be?" I ask. "This," she says and pours the water on the chastity device. It melts away and disappears like it never existed. My cock springs up, shooting to the sky, a massive piece of meat. It looks like someone else's cock. I've never seen this one before. Did someone order me a horse cock? "Oh wow," Desire says. "That is impressive." "Yeah, I agree." "Now I'm gonna make you cum," she says. "Shit," I say. Chapter 53 MY NAME IS JANINE, AND I'm just a sissy. I used to be a man, and the man I used to be might have been interested in this is plot, in rebellion, in risking his life to change the country. But not me. I like my life. It took me a long time to learn to like my sissy self. These guys keep talking about me like I'm a victim, but I don't feel like one, not anymore. Kip is though; they are right about that. Kip and Dirk and all the men who are forced to become sissies and breeders every day, they are victims, as are all the guys who have to go into that house and play in The Games. It is wrong. I know it's wrong. There are a lot of things wrong with this world. What the hell am I supposed to about it? Why should I risk getting killed, getting tortured? These guys, they talk like they know what they are doing, but they don't know shit. I'm in a room with a two rebellion leaders, and I am not impressed. First, there is Simon, the advisor from State 18, who a little while ago killed a guy for trying to fuck me, which is what I am designed to do, make guys want to fuck me. From there, he whisked me away to meeting with another rebel mastermind, the fattest newt I have ever seen, a slug named Ian. Ian has access to the president. Ian, so he says, is the Grand Acolyte, the leader of the eunuchs. Ian tells me the plan to overthrow the government is in place and moving forward, even though it hasn't all gone smoothly. Mostly, Kip has been a complication, winning too many contests, becoming too beautiful, pulling votes away from Pie, the little twinkie boy. For some reason, this Pie is supposed to win. Why is everyone always mad at Kip? The government has been trying to get rid of him, and now these assholes, the supposed good guys, are trying to do the same. "And now, we need your help," Ian says. His lips are purple, almost girlish, and look disgusting on his big fat head. "My help!" I ask. "You are going to get me killed. You are going to get Kip and Dirk killed. This is the government we are talking about. They control everything and everyone." "They will control nothing," Simon says. "The twink virus will make nano technology irrelevant." "So your response to the government controlling human biology is by controlling it yourself? Are you any better than them?" "It's the only way. A full blown Civil War will end with millions dead, and maybe the human race itself. Who knows what bio weapons she's been cooking up?" "You want to poison everyone, turn them into skinny little boys who are not men and not women, asexual waifs like Pie. That's what you want for mankind." "Just for a while, until the nanotech labs can be brought under rebel control. Without nano tech, there are no more sissies, no more breeders, no more agents. We go back to being human, and back to choosing to be what we wish to be." "Just so long as we choose to be skinny, effeminate elves." "Janine," says Ian, he has been quietly listening to our debate. "You yourself have been altered by nanos. You were a man, and now you are a sissy, and you had no choice in the matter. We want to fix that." "I was turned into a sissy by newts just like you. Your sect controls the Sissy Academy, the breeder farms, the Agents Factory, and every evil-as- fuck institution the government uses to control us. Why the hell should I trust you? Why should anyone?" He looks at me for a moment, his face calm, peaceful. There is a look in his eyes, a look of what? Pity? Hurt feelings? "The Eunuch sect was created because the desire for power, for sex, to dominate, to control, is literally removed from us. We are impervious to temptation, resistant to torture, completely absent of ambition. What we strive for is peace. We care about this country, and for several decades, we thought the best thing for all was to keep things as they were...genetic women in charge, men forced to be second class citizens and largely powerless, safe sexual outlets available, breeding controlled." "Sounds perfect! Sounds like we should all be happy. Sounds like this country you created and the government you empowered have created Nirvana. Hmmmm, maybe I'm missing something, but aren't we talking about destroying everything you seem so proud of?" "Pride is irrelevant to eunuchs. Our only goal is peace and happiness. The reason why we need change now, need a revolution, is that supreme power has corrupted supremely. This president and the many women who are following her with blind passionate faith are going to end this world. She must be stopped. It's time. Men must now rise and become a responsible partners, equal again to women, sharing in the burden of governing." "Yet, apparently the entire plot comes down to me, a sissy, sneaking into the president's sissy harem and killing her. After that, you are going to pour a virus into the water supply and forever change the genetics of humanity." "There are risks, yes, but risks worth taking," Ian says. "Thanks to your Kip, the populace is thirsty for war. By getting Sam to admit to the world that he cheated, that The Games are false, that the government lied, we have almost every state ready for uprising. Millions of men now see the government as corrupt, drunk on power, and in need of destruction. The fuse has been lit, thank to Kip, and thanks to you. Today is the day. Today we must strike." I can't believe I'm about to say this. I'm going to sound as crazy as them. I have a better plan, I think. "I have a thought...a change to your wonderful plan. What if the president herself was in favor of change?" "The president is not a reformer," says Simon, rather condescendingly. "You don't know all she has done. She is a dictator. She is a monster." "This president, yes, she is one horrible, stinking bag of rotting evil. I think I know this more than you. However, what if another president were in power? One who, I don't know, is in love with me and trusts me?" They listen. They nod. For a sissy, I'm not a bad strategist. End of Chapter 53 End of Part Thirteen To Be Continued in February ### 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