The Games - Part Sixteen - Concluded free porn video

THE GAMES PART SIXTEEN 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. I appreciate your time very much. 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 62 FOR THE LAST HOUR, THE Games has been a fairly boring TV show filled with a 10-minute highlight reel from Day One, playing over and over again. While that's been playing, the announcer has been busy playing with the controls to The House, figuring out what interface does what. He has to learn how to manipulate the house, because he's all by himself in the control room, surrounded by consoles and computers and screens and dozens of empty chairs. All his editors, producers, game makers and directors are gone. They left him, sneaking out one by one, and now he's on his own. He is finally in control, the master of The House, though he is a lonely master. It's the rebellion, the wretched, rotten, rebellion that is screwing up a good thing, ripping apart a perfectly good society, one in which the announcer is handsomely paid, surrounded by sissies and real woman to fuck, and adored by his public. The rebels think that Pie is going to be their savor? Their messenger? Their messiah? They think that Pie is going to emerge from The House the victor and carry with her some kind of message? The upstart cretins can think again. He will crush the rebellion all on his own. He knows how to use The House better than anyone else on Earth. He doesn't need a vid production staff. He just needs the consoles right in front of him. He's been working on his little playthings for an hour now. They should be ready, and Pie had better be ready to die. ### The announcer cuts the camera from the highlight reel and focuses in on Avery and Walker, a spectacularly handsome couple. Avery is a beautiful sissy dressed as a bride in a long white gown with a classic full skirt and a tight sequined bodice that hugs her like a corset, squeezing her waist and providing a generous display of her new cleavage. She faces Walker, holding his hands. They gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. They look like they are posing for a wedding picture or for a poster with an inspirational message about true love. Walker towers over her, an elegant masculine monolith in a black tuxedo complete with cummerbund and bow tie. The walls of the room are dark red, the red of a rose. "Hello again, dear viewers," the announcer says. "As you can see, we have a blossoming romance. We might even have a wedding soon, right here in The House! That would a historic first! You might be asking yourself, these two contestants, weren't they two men just two days ago? Yes! And now look at them, ready to tie the knot and grow old together. How did that happen, when just an hour ago Walker was a beast patrolling the hallways and Avery was a slutty sissy begging me to take her manhood? You know how. Government approve hypno training! So powerful, it can even make enemies fall in love. Let's see what our couple has to say...Avery? Walker? Can you speak with us for a moment?" "Yes," they say in unison, one voice made of two voices, one male and one female. "Walker, tell me about Avery." "Avery is the most beautiful sissy in the world, and soon she will be the most beautiful breeder in the world," he says with a dreamy look in his eyes. "She will have my babies. We will have a life together. I will love her forever. I want only her." "And Avery, tell me about Walker." "Walker is my man and I love him with all my heart. I'm going to become a breeder for him and I can't wait to feel his cock in my pussy. I can't wait for him to breed me and have his babies." "Don't you want to be a man anymore?" "No. I love him and I want to be his. I want to please him, and he wants me to have a real pussy." "Is that right, Walker? You want her to have a real vagina for you to fuck?" "Yes. I can't wait to fuck her real pussy. I can't wait!" "To do that you are going to have to win The Games. Are you prepared to do that?" "Yes. I will do anything to win." "And Avery, are you ready to help him, even though it will mean you losing your manhood?" "I want to lose it. I hate it. It keeps him from loving me completely, and that's all I want." "Then you need to do something difficult, something that will be dangerous. But if you do it, I will ensure that Walker wins The Games. Agreed?" "Yes," they say in unison, their eyes staying locked onto each other. "You must kill another contestant. Her name is Pie and she is a rebel spy, and a murderer, and a traitor. Eliminate her, and you will get what you want. Understood?" "Yes," they say in unison. "We will kill Pie." Chapter 64 MY NAME IS JANINE AND holy mother of all that is sissilicious I am heading into the lion's den, a tasty sissy morsel who might become lunch. I am swishing along in my pink satin hobble skirt and six-inch pink pumps and heading to the president's private quarters. The little newt has me by the arm and guides me along the hallway. He whispers to me, "Good luck, sissy. She is, well, quite out of her mind today." Oh, I'm just so glad he gave me that little warning. Thank you so much little balless man. As if this mission isn't terrifying enough already. Just a few hours ago I was shown how the president deforms, scars, tortures and hideously transforms sissies she is displeased with. Now this hairless man in the purple robe tells me that the crazy person I'm to assassinate happens to be extra crazy today. Fabulous. Just fabulous. I am not an assassin. I am a sissy. I am made for sex, for pleasure, not for rebellion or freedom fighting or whatever words noble men use to describe doing incredibly dangerous and silly things. Can't I just suck a cock or two and call it a day? How about I fuck some freedom fighters before they go off to die on the front lines of the civil war? How about that? No? I guess not. I guess the fate of the country is on my frail shoulders. I walk down the hall, my heels going tap, tap, tap. My ass wiggles. My wrists are limp. My tits are thrust out in front of me. I am a perfect sissy. I think. If she doesn't think so, then I am dead. The newt opens the door and I walk in, somewhat gingerly. There she is, right in front of me, looking gorgeous. She is a spectacular woman. She might be crazy, but insanity has done nothing to diminish her looks. She has straight, golden blonde hair, cut into a bob with severe bangs over her ice blue eyes. Her cheek bones are high and sharp, giving her a somewhat wolf-like look. She is in a navy blue pencil skirt and white satin blouse, looking polished, professional and oh so thin. Her waist is tiny, while her hip are generous. I would kill to have a figure like hers. I want to taste her pussy, just like the hypno training taught me. I don't want to go too fast. I'm a sissy. I love my mommy. I love mommy's beautiful pussy. I must obey. I will be a good girl. That's the hypno-training kicking in. Sissy J is in control. I have to step back, watch and wait. "Come here, sissy," she says. I mince toward her, head down, hands lifted, wrists limp. "You are a pretty one, aren't you?" she says. I can feel her eyes bore into me, taking in every detail, looking for something to punish me for. "Thank you mistress," I say meekly and give her a deep curtsey. Oh god, is she seeing through my disguise? Can she somehow know that I'm an assassin? I will not panic. I will not! Sissy J, this is your show. Do your thing. Charm the president. Get our mouth to her vagina, and then I'll do what I must. She walks around me, inspecting me. My heart is fluttering. I might feint. That would be a bad idea. I will be an obedient sissy. I will stand and service my mistress. "How big are you, sissy?" What the hell is she talking about? Oh no. Is she already thinking about what kind of penis origami to make out of my sissy stick? "Madame? You mean my clitty?" "Yes, sissy, are you large?" "For a sissy, yes. I am 6 inches when erect." "Oh my! Why wasn't your cock miniaturized when you were sissified?" "Madame, my house owner requested I stay at my male size, as he had customers who performed well hung sissies." That is a lie of course. I kept my regular sized cock because I had won The Games. I can't tell her that though. That little bit of truth would get me killed. "Is it restrained?" she asks, sounding...excited? Oh god. Please don't let me clipped today. I like my cock. I really do. "Yes, Madame." "Let me see." I lift up my skirt, and show her my sleeved cock, which is obediently staying in his sleeve. "Oh, poor thing. I think we need to let him free," the president says. She grabs my cock sleeve and pulls it away. The snaps pop when they release. My cock is now unrestrained. This isn't how the game is supposed to work. She is supposed to try and make me hard and if I do so, and if she hears the erection snaps pop open, then I am to be punished. Yet here I am with my cock out and exposed. What kind of game is this? "I hope you don't mind," she says as she grasps my cock. "I rarely get to see big cocks. I'm surrounded by sissy cock and while fun, they often leave a girl wanting more." She massages me, strokes me, and my cock responds, growing steel hard. "Good girl," she says. "Thank you, Madame." This is getting weird. She doesn't seem all that evil. Is she the kind of evil that doesn't seem evil until she bares her fangs and starts sucking the blood from a kitten? No punishment for getting hard without permission? In fact, she doesn't seem cruel or angry. She seems...horny. Maybe the rebellion has driven her so crazy that she went around the bend and is now sane again. "When is the last time you fucked a real pussy?" she asks. "Years and years." I think the number is 12 years, since before I won The Games. My fianc?. It was a lovely night, right before my lottery. "Would you like to fuck my pussy, sweet sissy?" she asks. I would love to fuck her pussy. My dick pulses at the thought of it. Finally, after so many years, the thought of actual sex with a real vagina delights me. Then again, I can't kill her with a poisoned tooth unless I'm eating her pussy. I've got to get down there. "I would love to, Madame!" I say, sounding filled with sissy excitement. "Sissy would be honored. But would you enjoy a tongue worshipping first?" "Oh yes, sissy! That is a glorious idea. Let's do that." Chapter 65 MY NAME IS ZACH, BUT I don't think I'll be a Zach for much longer. I'm waking up. It's like crawling up through a mile long black velvet blanket, but I'm doing it. I'm getting there. Whatever drugs they gave me are wearing off. As I drift awake I'm aware of many little pains in my body. My nipples ache and there is a tightness in my breasts, like balloons filled with too much water. My cock hurts, a tingling sensation all over my private area. There is a soreness across my stomach, like I did a bunch of sit-ups, which is kind of funny because I haven't done a sit-up in ages. Sports has never been my thing. I can't wait to see myself. I know what all these little aches and pains mean. It means that nanos have been at work, and maybe even a surgeon. It means that the evil police captain, in his hope to punish my father, has turned me into a sissy. Finally! That is all I ever wanted to be in this life. When can I see! I'm still tied down to this damn table. And I'm blindfolded. Why? And gagged too? There is a rubber thing in my mouth. How kinky! Maybe the sex training is about to start. Hurray! The tingly in my cock is getting more intense, making me so horny. Did they shrink my cock? Is it small and cute now, like a good sissy cock? ### I'm Zach's father, and I don't know what I've done to him. The police captain, that fucking rat bastard who should rot in a maggot-filled hell, he turned my Zach into a sissy. He did that, put the needles in his arm, filled him full of nanos and hormones. But what came next... My son, now a sissy was on the table, sleeping, going through the transformation process, a patient on a table, he is a boy turning into something like a girl. And then...damn it...and then... The police captain came at me with some kind of device. Black goggles of some kind, with earplugs. I was chained to the wall, tight, no chance to reach out and strangle him to death, which is what I wanted to do. He said, "You'll enjoy this, I'm sure." He strapped the googles onto my head, covering my eyes. He slipped the ear plugs into my ears. Then he attached something to my soft cock, sticking things on it, like little pieces of tape. "What the fuck are you doing?" I asked. "Patience, father, patience," he said, almost kindly. The goggles lit up, and soon I was staring at something like a movie screen, but it was everywhere. I guess it was what techies call virtual reality. I know my sons played with VR headset games at the arcade near the school. We never could afford a home device though. Then the parade of women started, sexy women, naked women, dressed women, sometimes there was video, sometimes pictures, sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't. I could feel a soft tingling in my cock, a light electrical charge. I lost myself to all those women, all flashing by me so quickly, all so beautiful. After a few minutes, or hours, I really don't know, the women started becoming similar, all merging together. Soon it was one woman, and she was amazing. She looked just like a girl I had a crush on in high school, the only genetic girl I had ever talked to. The breeder I hired to carry my sons looked just like her. She was curvy, a little chubby, a nice round ass, big heavy breasts, long raven hair, puffy lips. She was sex, pure sex. I can't say how many times I pleasured myself to her. I can't even remember her name, but she was my first love. It was strange to see her stand in front of me again, her memory so clear. I became aware of my hard dick. Looking at that girl made me incredibly horny, so in need of fucking. The earplugs were pulled from my ears, then the goggles from my eyes. Damn it. I missed that girl. I would pay a lot of money for those goggles so I could see her again. "We just wanted to see what makes your quite magnificent cock hard," says the captain. I wanted like to rip his eyes out and feed them to him. "I like chubby brunettes with big tits," I say to him. "You could have just asked me." "But then we wouldn't have captured the nuances, the mannerisms, the voice of your perfect woman. This simple device has allowed us to create her for you." "Create her? You mean? No...you sick evil bastard." I look over at my son, who is covered in red rubber sheeting with tubes and needles going in and out of it. I had no idea what they were doing to him, until now. ### I think I hear my father. Is that him? Is he weeping. Oh no, he is. I wish he wasn't sad. I wish he could be happy for me. He will never understand. I suppose, but maybe accept me, over time. I will be patient with him. The police captain says, "Come awake, little one. You are reborn today. You are a new person. I expect that your father will approve." The straps on my arms and legs are pulled away. I feel weak. I don't think I can move. I open my eyes and everything is bright, too bright to see. I close my eyes. So much white everywhere. It burns. "Take your time, little girl," the captain says. He puts his arm around me, helps me to sit up. His leather gloved hands feel interesting on my skin, sensual, strong. I kind of like it. Maybe I'm a kinkier sissy than I thought. I still can't see. Everything is blurry. I can make out some shapes, some colors, fuzzy light sources, but nothing else. I stand on my bare feet, the concrete floor hard and cold. I'm naked and chilled. It's a cold room. I feel my nipples harden. I reach up to touch them and discover, to my delight, big heavy breasts, so round and firm. I want to see them! "Why can't I see?" "Because your heart's desire was to be a beautiful sissy, and now you are. However, we needed some other way to punish you. You will never see your beauty, never know how truly magnificent you are." "Oh no...please...I want to see myself so badly," I say. I cry, tears pouring out of my blinded eyes. "Not to worry, little girl, you father will tell you how you look. Won't you, papa?" I hear my father crying now, sobbing. "Tell her, papa," the captain says. "Tell your sissy daughter how wonderful she looks." "You look wonderful," he says between sobs. "You look like an angel." "Oh daddy, I'm so sorry," I say. "I'm so sorry." "You have nothing to be sorry for." "Hug your father," the captain says. "He's right in front of you. Take him in your arms." I slowly walk forward, hold out my arms. I can see a man shaped blob in front of me, and he is vaguely the size of my father. I walk forward. He has my father's smell, coal ash and a hint of whiskey. I can feel the strong hairy arms. This is my father. Walk to him and wrap my arms around him. I cry into his hairy chest. "Zach, please," he says. "Zach, please step back, I'm begging you." "Daddy, I love you. Daddy, why? Let me hug you!" I feel it then, the hardness, a piece of meat growing into stone, pressing into me. I can feel the desire radiating off of him. I step back. "They made you look like her," he says. "The only girl I ever loved." "Oh daddy, oh no!" I cover my face with my hands and blubber like the sissy I am, tears dripping through my fingers and onto the floor. The captain laughs, loudly and with gusto. I think he might pull a stomach muscle he is laughing so much. "You commoners, such simple people. It's so fun to play with you. You are toys to us, wonderful toys, to play with and discard. I love you both, I truly do." "Please," I say, "Please, I'm begging you. Turn me into someone else. Not someone...for my dad. It's obscene!" "Okay then, let's play another game," the captain says. "You two can fuck right now, right here in front of us all, and I will let you both go. Or, you can have your brains reprogrammed so that you were never son and father, but instead lovers. I will make Zach cease to exist for both of you, and you can live your lives together as sissy and owner. So choose! Keep your minds intact and fuck, or see all memory of Zach erased from you both." I don't know. I just don't know. What should I choose? Chapter 66 MY NAME IS KAT. I am man, who also looks exactly like our beloved Madame President. I feel sexy, to be honest. Madame President is a sexy woman after all. Oddly, looking less like me, like Kip, has freed me somehow. I am no longer chained to the man I used to be. It used to be, even as I was being feminized, I would see a little of me in my face, in my body, in how I walked, in how I spoke. And now I see someone else, an elegant, regal woman, with high cheek bones and piercing blue eyes. I see a woman in a tight, blue skirt, tailored jacket and crisp white blouse. I see a woman who can strut in 4-inch heels, black patent ones, quite serious looking. I am still Kip. Inside I know this. And I do want to get back to who I was. But this new person, I can use her to get me there. It's a disguise, one that's been given to me. It's a gift. From who, I don't know. And the why also escapes me. Still, I'm excited, recharged. It's like by looking like her I have just a bit of her power, and maybe a touch of her ruthlessness. I might need that, now that I think of it. "Do we have a plan?" Dirk asks me. Dirk is looking quite cute in his tight blue shorts and blue combat boots. I find it highly amusing that he is dressed for a long night at a gay spa and I'm dressed as if about to address Parliament. It's nice, having some power over him. And I like how he's walking a little behind me, and did he just ask me my plan? Is he deferring to me? Apparently, I'm in charge. Interesting. I don't think Dirk would have ever asked Kip his opinion about anything. "We do have a plan," I say. "We are going to win The Games. First, we find the remaining contestants and we cum them out. In this body, I can issues command that will be followed without question. And if someone gives us trouble? We have your strength to keep them in line." "When you say 'we' will win The Games. How does that work exactly? There are two of us. Only one can win." "We will decide in the most logical, scientific and moral way possible." "And how is that?" "We will play rock, paper, scissors." "We will?" "Yes, fair is fair. We are partners, and when we are the only two left in this house, the only fair thing to do is let fate decide. Agreed?" He thinks about it as he lumbers on behind me. He really is slow with all his new muscles. I'm in these heels and I'm jetting along like a gazelle. "Agreed," he says. I have to admit that I am tempted to trick him, to cum him out before we get to our consequential game of rock, paper, scissors. But I'm not going to. I only look like the president. I'm not actually evil. "So what are we doing now?" he asks. "Hunting," I say. "The producers will eventually need some action, as us walking around is boring TV. I'd guess that very soon we will come up on an opponent, and some exciting TV will ensue." As if on cue, we turn a corner and there they are, not one opponent, but two. The sissy on the left is in some kind of sexy wedding gown, and she is a stunning bride. The full, poofy skirt is a lace and chiffon confection while the bodice is tight around her waist to embrace two generous and well-presented breasts. Her shoulders are bare, white and lovely, thin and rounded, quite girl like. How long did she spend in a pink room? On her head is a flowing white veil, pulled back, exposing her tastefully made up face. Her hair has sprigs of white baby's breathe flowers in it. She looks as if she should be on top of a cake somewhere. Her - I can only call him a husband - her husband is in a gorgeous black tuxedo that seems to barely contain his muscles. He's built like the letter V, wide at the shoulders, thin at the middle, a handsome face with an exaggerated chin and a forehead a little too large, side effects of all the Testo flowing through him. Are these two married? What weird game have they been forced to play? "Madame President!" says the groom. "Oh my god!" says the sissy. "Your names, immediately," I say, sounding regal and bitchy. I do like playing this role. "I'm Walker," says the groom. "I'm Avery," says the bride. "Avery? Oh my, you have changed," I say, trying to capture that touch of bemused condensation the president often has. And she has changed. I remember Avery as being a fairly masculine, strapping man. This girl before me, she looks like his little sister. "Thank you, Madame," she says. "I do not mean to interrupt your fun," I say. "But what are you doing? Explain these clothes." "The announcer is going to marry us, after we kill Pie," Walker says, his voice sounding like a bass drum that learned to talk. "And why would you do that?" "Pie is a traitor and a rebel," Walker says. "If we kill her, the announcer will help us win The Games so we can be married." "And is that what you both want?" "More than anything," Avery says. "But why don't you know that, Madame President?" Damn. I should have known the sissy would be the smart one. I might have overplayed my hand. "I did know that," I say. "I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted to know that you are being obedient." "Why are you here, in The House?" Walker asks. Great, now he's getting smart. "Yes, Madame President," Avery asks. "Why aren't you in the palace, watching The Game on TV like everyone else?" "Alright fine," I say. "I'm not the president. I woke up like this. I don't know why I look like this, but I do. I'm Kip from State 13." "Wow!" says Avery. "You look amazing. I really thought it was her." "Thanks, I guess," I say. "I don't know what's going on. The Games are hella weird this year." "So what now?" Dirk says. "Are we going to stand around all day and chat?" "Let's truce for a bit," I say. "I'm tired and I think we could all use some food." "Sounds tasty, Madame President," says a childlike, mocking voice behind me. "But maybe we should play a little before we eat. Maybe work up an appetite." We turn and there she is, Pie, the little adorable pixie in her purple leotard, looking like a tomboy on her way to a ballet class that she is not happy about. Chapter 67 I LOVE MOMMY'S PUSSY. I love worshipping mommy's pussy. She tastes wonderful. I love her and will serve her forever. These thoughts run through my head as I lick the womanhood of Madame President. They are thoughts put there by the hypno training. However, I must say, I am enjoying myself. It has been so long since I've tasted a woman down there, the sweet musk, the salty taste, the pretty folded lips, the erect clitoris, like a little penis, begging for attention. She is enjoying herself as well. My tongue skills don't seem to have diminished much. Her moans are quite encouraging. To think it was just a few years ago that newts at the Sissy Academy brain washed me, sissified me, and made me vomit at the sight of lady parts. It was a method to push me to be sexually attracted to men. Sexual energy has to go somewhere, and if you cut off one release valve, the theory is that it will find another way to be satisfied. It worked, to a point. I did become quite attracted to men, which served me well as a professional sissy. This though, this is a fantastic fucking pussy. Oh my god the taste of it is just divine. I do have to remember my mission. Poison tooth. Slip it out of the back of my mouth. Her fluids will melt it, but my saliva won't. Wonderful science! I will slide it into her cunt with my tongue. She will be dead in seconds. I don't have to make her cum. All I was told to do was to make her good and wet. But this is her last night on the planet, and she has been rather sweet to me, despite her horrific reputation. She is getting close. Her hips are bucking. She is moaning louder. She is grinding her slit into my face, urging me to go faster and faster. I push my back left molar loose with my tongue. It pops free. The poison tooth is in my mouth. "Stop, oh stop, stop, stop!" she shouts. "Not now, not now! Please!" Oh no. Am I caught? Am I done? I ready myself. Am I about to be killed by agents storming into the room. I look up at her, her taste on my lips, a packet of toothy poison tucked into my cheek. "Is something wrong, Madame?" I ask. "Fuck me!" She says. "I want you to fuck me. I want to cum with your big, fat cock in me. I want to know what that feels like." "You want to...Madame...Have you never been fucked before?" "No, silly sissy, this is a new vagina. Oops! I wasn't supposed to tell." "Tell what?" "You're going to be mad." "I am?" "I'm not the president." Oh shit. "Who are you?" "I'm Sissy Margaret. I'm a decoy. There are a bunch of us. The president was sure assassins were going to try and kill her, so she made a bunch of us. We all look just like her." "We? How many of you are there?" "Twenty." I stand up and look down on the pretty sissy lying on the bed, her new pussy looking perfect and pink, still wet from my tongue lashing. I would like to fuck her, now that she mentions it. But there is no time. I need to save Kip. I need to end The Games and get him out of there. "Where are they?" "In the private residence." "And where is the president." "She...well...she...we..." "Spit it out, sissy." "We were all in the residence, in her private transformation suite. She and her doctor were putting us into the machine, taking us out, dressing us. One of us realized, I'm not sure who, that we outnumbered them. There were twenty of us and about five Agents and the doctor and the president." "What happened?" "The Agents won't attack the president or anyone who looks like the president. Agents are dumb. They have holes drilled into their brains. They will protect the president, but if they are surrounded by presidents, they don't know what to do. One of the other gurls attacked her, screaming like a crazy woman. The agents stood there and watched, not sure what to do. More gurls joined in. The doctor started shouting, but other gurls wrestled him to the ground and shot him with a tranq gun. They put him into the machine. He doesn't look like the president though. He looks like her younger, fatter, trampier sister. The permanent makeup they put on him was just atrocious. Then they decided to hypno train him. They put in every dirty hypno track they could find. Cum thirst. Anal hunger. Humiliation fetish. Pain slut. If it was degrading, they added to the queue. I think they set her loose this morning. She's probably already sucking cocks and getting fucked." "And the president?" "We were afraid to kill her, so we tied her up in her dungeon. There were sissies down there, in pretty bad shape. We freed them, and ... well... what they have been doing things to her ever since." And there you have it. No civil war. No death in the streets. No famine, disease nor pestilence. This rebellion was won by 20 sissies. I go to the president's phone and call Ian. ### The president is strapped to a wall in her dungeon, quite naked except for 7-inch punishment heels that have her standing on her pointed toes. Her legs are spread open, an iron bar chained beneath her legs. "I'm your president, you sluts!" she screams. "You will all be executed for this!" Three of her former sissies are with her. Each dressed in simple white dresses and white heeled sandals, the uniform of senior sissies, older sissies who have been promoted to management positions, sissies who know the equipment and technology, sissies who help make new sissies. "Shhhhh," says one. "You have been bad. You must be punished." "We can never repay you for all the misery you've given us," says another. "But we can still try a bit." She approaches the president with a simple looking harness. I looks made of black and silver latex, lots of straps and silver snaps, a gray patch to cover the crotch. She wraps it around the president's waist, pulls the straps down between her legs, and stretches the gray patch, a thin metallic gauze, over the president's vagina. It shrinks over her lips and folds and gap, covering them like a second skin, sinking into her. Chapter 68 Pie is walking toward us, evil intent in her eyes, a deadly smirk on her face. She looks dangerous, even though she is the smallest, thinnest, and most delicate sissy I have ever seen. She looks like murder. Dirk and I are in her path, behind us are Walker and Avery, the lovely couple, fianc?s who think they are in love and are already dressed for a wedding. Violence is in the air, radiating off of Pie, and from Walker and Avery, who take battle stances, which look just a might silly in their formal get ups. "Rebel scum," Walker says. "Pie must die," says Avery. "Bring it, cunt hairs," says Pie. Dirk and I step lightly to one side of the hall. We don't seem to be in this fight. It's clearly between the soon-to-be weds and Pie. "Wait! Not quite yet please," says the announcer. I hadn't heard his voice in so long I wasn't sure he was alive anymore. He sounds like he has a sore throat, rough, sad somehow. "Wouldn't you all like lunch?" A door in the hallway opens. Inside is a large wooden dining table. The smell of roast beef wafts through us. It smells delicious. Why feed us now? What is he up to? Oh no. I realize what the announcer has in mind, what he thinks will make for the best television. Roast beef is served with...knives, sharp knives. He wants to end The Games with a blood bath. Pie darts into the room. Walker and Avery close behind her. Dirk and I watch, not wanting to get involved. We stand in the hall, frozen, not moving. We can see the roast beef, a big hunk of bleeding brown on a silver tray, on top of the table. Pie, Walker and Avery all grab knives from the table, face each other. Pie darts to the left, out of our view. Walker and Avery follow. We can't see them anymore. To see them, we'd have to go into the room. "What should we do?" he asks me. "I'm starving." The roast beef does look wonderful. It's been so long since we've eaten. "I truly don't want to go in there," I say. There is a scream, Walker's, a manly scream, loud and full of rage. Then there is laughing, Pie. Then there is a girlish scream, Avery's. She's in pain, a lot of it. "I should go in there," Dirk says. Avery screams again. "And do what?" I ask. "Stop this. It's not right. She isn't right. Pie. She's...I think she's evil." "And it's your job to battle evil?" "It's got to be someone's job," he says. He dashes into the room. I've never been more proud of him. Or more terrified. Chapter 69 THE POLICE CAPTAIN CAN BARELY keep from exploding with glee. The perversity of the scene is fantastic. The power he holds over his slaves is delicious. Such wonderful playthings, these creatures are. These performances are so much better than anything he has ever seen on a vid. This is true entertainment! On his right is a delectable new sissy, once a man, now a petite, plump, gurl with a tiny cock, big tits, lush, long raven hair. She is as fuckable as can be. And as the slut wanted to be a sissy, he found a truly clever way to punish her. She is blinded, can see just enough light and shape to keep from walking to walls, but her world will always be blurry. She will never see her own beauty, her one and only wish. On his left is her father, naked, his aging body stripped bare, exposing his knotted muscles, hairy chest and back, a generous paunch of a belly. This is what growing old looks like, what being a father with adult sons looks like. And now his youngest son has been transformed into the sissy of his dreams, a sexy creature that his heart and his cock longs for. "Choose!" the captain yells. "Choose now or I will choose for you." The chose before them is this... Have sex as father and sissy daughter, the most perverse and horrible thought imaginable. Or, have all memory of the former boy Zach erased. That would alleviate the guilt of incest, but would also mean the father would not remember one of his two sons, and the son would be nothing but a sissy, with no memory of a past. Her story would start in this room, where her sissy self was created. The president would be so proud of him! Punishing the rebels like this is good, is satisfying, is the right thing. They should do this with all the rebels and their sons. This is what The Games should be...This is... "She's my daughter," says the father. "I can't. I'm not capable." The father's cock deflates, drops, becomes as small as snail. "Your daughter," says the sissy. "Yes," says the father. "And you look just like your mother." "Oh daddy!" the sissy says. She rushes to the father and hugs him. He can't hug back as his arms are chained to the wall. "No!" says the captain. "If you will not fuck..." "I cannot fuck my daughter!" says the father. "Then I will take her from you! And when your mind is blank and there is nothing but a blank space where your son Zach used to reside, then you will fuck this whore until your fill her cunt and you will do it over and over again..." He yells into the father's right ear, shouting so loud he might deafen the stupid man whose cock went soft just as it was supposed to get hard. Now the fun is spoiled. A needle jams into his neck. ### The gurl, she couldn't see much, but she could feel. The tubes that were once connected to her, that ended in needles that were once in her veins, they were easy enough to find. Once she had one, felt the sharp tip with her finger, it was fairly easy to follow the shouting voice back to the captain. She stabbed just below where the voice was coming from, where the neck should be. The needle is a smart needle. When it sinks into flesh, it know to begin to release its payload, first sleep drugs to send the patient to blackness, then pain killers for what is to come, then nanos and feminizer hormones. The captain falls to the floor, the tube attached to the needle extends, never leaving his neck. "Good job, baby," the father says. "Oh daddy, I'm so sorry," says the daughter. "I've always knew, I suppose. Once I saw you, like this, like the real you, it all clicked. You were always my daughter. I just didn't know it." "I love you, daddy," she says. "I hate to break this up," says one of the 20 men still chained to the wall. "But the agents will be coming back in any second now. Could you maybe let us loose?" The sissy finds the keys on the captain's body. The needle continues to do its job, pumping a male body full of technology to make it a female body. Chapter 70 MY NAME IS JANININE, AND m losing my temper. The war is won. The danger is passed. The window of opportunity is open. Yet these men, these stupid men, they want to continue with The Games. They want to keep the show going, even though the contestants are now trying to kill each other instead of fucking each other. I am a sissy, it's true. But right now, I am an enraged human being who wants to save the life of a person I love, Kip, and someone who I like, Dirk. "We can't just stop The Games," says Ian, the head newt, king of the balless, and now with the president chained up in a dungeon, he is the most powerful person the country. "Not now. The rebellion is set to spark as a soon as they end. When that happens, The Virus will be pumped into the water supply and that can't happen." "So call it off," I say to Simon, the rebel leader, trying not to shout. I am mostly unsuccessful. "Call up your rebel hoard and tell them to stop. Tell them to go home and wait for further orders." "I can't just do that," Simon says. "It's not how we communicate. We don't communicate via phones or vid. It's voice-to-voice, in person. That's the way word is spread. The government owns all electronic communications, so we have to organize and plan the old-fashioned way. It's slow, but effective." "Effective? You call this effective! You are about to turn all men everywhere into homicidal sociopathic twinks!" "That's exactly why we can't stop The Games," Ian says. "If they just stop, if we just cancel them, the rebels might take it as the sign they are waiting for. Ending The Games means starting the end of humanity as we know it." "Well guess what!" I yell. "The Games are going to be over if that crazy twink kills everyone!" On the ten video monitors in the president's chambers, are scenes from all over The House of Games. What the audience is seeing is a knife fight between two contestants dressed in wedding finery and the crazy little pixie Pie, who rebel scientists have genetically engineered to be the future of humanity. She needs to be put down, but who is going to do it? On another monitor I see Kat and Dirk, Kat looking like an exact duplicate of the president, and Dirk looking massive and muscular. He and Kat are arguing. Dirk wants to go into the room, wants to save the day. Or he just wants to get into a fight, just like a man, especially one filled with synthetic, triple-strength testosterone. Oh no, there he goes. He's dashes into the room, goes after Pie. He's not even armed and she has a large steak knife. The answer hits me. "Who is in control of The House right now," I say. "The announcer is," Ian says. "The producers and technicians, who were anticipating a rebellion, all fled the building. They didn't want to be around when rebels started rounding up anyone who had anything to do with The Games." "We need to take control, knock out he contestants. We can do that right? Flood the room with gas? Put everyone to sleep. Then we cut to highlight reels. That will give Simon time to get the word out to his rebels. Don't put virus in the water. Go home. Stay quiet. Wait for further orders." Ian and Simon think it over. "I think that will work," Ian says. "Excellent work, sissy." "I wish you had balls to kick every time you call me that," I say. Chapter 71 DIRK IS IN MY ARMS. Blood is pouring out of him, from a wound in his belly, from a cut across his ribs, from a slice on his right cheek. He's going to die. He's going to die right here, right now. He's so handsome, even now, even though he is pale and his brow is sweaty. He's about to go in shock, and that will be followed by unconsciousness, and that will be followed by death. There is nothing I can do about it. Avery is dead. I see her body across the room. Pie took her first. Walker is still alive, still chasing Pie, full of blind rage. This has become a house of horrors. Dirk looks up at me. A bit of blood dribbles from his mouth. That means there is blood in his lungs. He's going to die. Damn, damn, damn. I failed. "You asshole," I tell him. "You are sexy when you swear, Kitty," he says. "My name is Kat," I tell him. The solution comes to me. There is only one way to save him. He needs medical attention, and when you are in the house, there is one way to get it, to get the most advanced medical technology ever invented. I reach down, touch his massive cock through his stretchy shorts. The material, sensing an intimate touch, opens, lets his manhood spring free. "I'm going to get you out of here alive," I say. "Like that?" he says. "Does it have to be like that?" "It's the only way," I say. "I'm sorry." His rod stiffens in my hand, rising up majestically, 10-inches, thick as soda can. It's beautiful, his new cock. I just hope he has enough energy left in him to cum. "What will get you off?" I ask him. "Tell me you want me to fuck you." "I want you to fuck me," I say. "More than anything, I want you to drive your big hard cock into my warm wet cunt and fill me full of cum." He closes his eyes, moans softly, then cums, bright white milk spilling out of his tree branch cock and running over my hand. He passes out. Oh my god. Was it in time? Did I just kill him? Three agents come in through the door, two of them carrying a stretcher. "Hurry you idiots! He is dying! Fix him!" They pick up the massive Dirk like he weighs four pounds. He's on the stretcher and gone. I feel sleepy, strangely sleepy, a false kind of tiredness. I know this feeling. Something in the air. Can't think anymore. Fine. Whatever. I don't care anymore. I fall asleep next to a puddle of Dirk's blood. Chapter 72 MY NAME IS DIRK AND I'm eleven years old. I live in a big house made of wood. It's a cool house with lots of windows. It's always sunny here. There is a lake I like to swim in in the backyard. The house is surrounded by woods. I like to go exploring in them, but when I do it, IT gets dark after a while and I have to head back to my house. I get lonely sometimes. IT seems like I've been here forever. The only person to talk to is The Voice. It's a lady's voice. She's nice. She tells me I'm a good boy. She asks lots of questions. Sometimes the questions make me feel funny. Do I like girls? Do I ever think about girls? What do I think about girls? Do I think about boys? I don't know what she's asking about most of the time. I don't know what to say. I don't know any girls. I don't think about girls unless The Voice is asking me about them. I think girls are pretty. I think girls are soft. I think girls are sweet. I think girls wear dresses and shiny shoes. I think girls have long hair. I think girls giggle a lot. Girls are happy. I don't think about boys either. I think I'm a boy. I think I'm strong. I think I like to climb. I think I like to explore. I love to eat, especially cereal, macaroni and cheese and pizza. Today The Voice asked me if I want to meet a girl. I said sure. Then I felt funny inside. I was scared to meet a girl, but I didn't want The Voice to think I was scared. The Voice told me to close my eyes, and then open them again. There she was right in front of me. She was my age and my height, maybe a little taller. She looked like me, but like a girl. She had dark black straight hair, really long (mine is short). She had brown eyes and a little nose (mine is kind of big). She wore a white shirt and a black skirt. Her legs were smooth and white. (My legs are too because I don't have any hair on them yet.) She wore white socks and shiny black shoes with a little, thin strap. (I was wearing tennis shoes.) She was pretty. Really pretty. She smiled at me. Now I really felt funny. I didn't know what to say. I felt stupid. I wanted to run away, but I also didn't want to not see her. She was amazing. "Do you want to play?" she asked. "Play what?" I asked. "Dolls." "Dolls is a girl's game." "If you don't play, then I have to leave." "Okay. I'll play." So we played dolls. There was a closet full of them. I had never seen that closet before. She opened the door and there were all kinds of girl dolls. The dolls were about a foot tall and made to look like pretty ladies. They had all kinds of hair styles and colors and there were boxes and boxes of different clothes. We dressed them up. Had them talk to each other. The girl kept talking about getting dressed for parties, for going to work, for date night. I was kind of icked out for a while, but then I kind of got into it because she was having so much fun. Then she said she had to go. I was sad. She told me she would be back tomorrow. I was happy about that. I ate pizza alone. I wondered if the girl liked pizza. That was the first day the girl came over. She's been coming over for a few weeks now. We play every day. Some days it's with the dolls. Sometimes we have a tea, which means we sit around a table and drink tea out of a china pot and little cups with tiny handles you can't get your fingers through. I like the tea though, and the cookies. I put a lot of sugar in my tea, and a little lemon. Some days we jump rope and play hopscotch. Some days we explore the woods. At night, when the girl is gone, the voice asks me about the games we played, what I liked and didn't like. The voice always asks me about how much I like the girl. I always say I like her a lot. The voice sometimes asks me if I want to be more like he girl. I used to say no, but now I think the answer is yes. The girl is so happy and so pretty. I think maybe I do want to be like that. I think it's been years now, so long. I don't really know. When the girl comes over I change out of my boy clothes and put on girls clothes that match the girls. She is teaching me to be happy, and girls are happy. We still explore the woods, and we still play games. I just do it dressed like a girl. My hair is long now too, long like hers. She is so pretty. I think I'm pretty now too. I'm still a boy, I think. I have a thing. When you have a thing, you are a boy. If you don't have a thing you are a girl. So I'm not like her, not completely. I ask her about it one day. I ask her what it's like to not have a thing. "It's wonderful," she says. "I feel so free and happy. Having a thing just weighs you down, slows you down. I think it must be hard to have that thing. I don't want one. Do you want yours?" I think about it. I don't know. "I'm not sure," I say. We go and play some more. A few days later, she asks me again if a like having a thing. "Why?" I ask. "Because I have a way to get rid of it," she says. "Really?" "Yes. I have a magic potion. I brought it for you, if you want it, but only if you want it. You don't have to drink it." She takes a vile of pink stuff out of her purse. She gives it to me. It's not much, just a little bit, barely a mouthful. I put it in my purse. I always carry a purse now, and I always dress up when she comes over. Today we are in party dresses with lots of lace and ruffles. We are in formal wear for our formal tea. We wear white lacy gloves when we have a formal tea. We sit at the table and drink tea and giggle. We tell stories about made up girls. It's kind of like playing dolls, but with no dolls. We tell stories about how pretty girls get dressed up for big parties, how they date boys, fall in love, break up, then find real love. Then we tell stories about how they get married, wearing a pretty dress, the prettiest most wonderful dress ever. Then we talk about how they have babies, lots of babies, boys and girls, and how wonderful it is to be a mother. After that, we play with dolls, baby dolls. We take care of them, feed them with bottles, and change their diapers. It's fun having to care for a little baby. It amazing how much it needs you, how much it loves you, and how much you love it back. I realize then, I want to be a mother. But you can't be a mother if you have a thing. Today we are having tea, me and the girl. She is pretty, and I love her. I am afraid she won't like me if I don't have a thing. I don't know why. It doesn't make sense. She doesn't have a thing. Why do I need to have a thing? So I get up all my courage and ask her. "Would you still like me if I didn't have a thing?" "Sweety, I would love you if you didn't have a thing." "Would you?" I don't know why, but I begin to cry. "Dear, let me tell you a secret." "A secret?" "I would love you more if you didn't have a thing. I would love you a lot more." "You would?" "Yes, sweety. This might be hard for you to understand right now. I'm you, the girl you, the you without a thing. If you love me, then you love yourself. You love yourself, without a thing. You can get rid of it and be just like me, happy, pretty, and one day you'll be a big girl, then a pretty girl, and then a wife, and then a mother. Do you want that?" "More than anything." "Then all you have to do is drink the pink drink. When you wake up, you won't have a thing. You'll be a real girl, just like me." I take the pink vial out of my purse. It was next to my lipstick and my hair brush. My nails are painted pink, just like my toe nails. The color matches the stuff in the vial. I take the lid off of it. I pour it into my mouth. It tastes like pink cotton candy. She smiles at me. "Good girl," she says. I fall asleep. ### FEMINIZATION INDUCTION THERAPY PROGRESS NOTES Subject: Dirk Jones Transition: Full adult male to female breeder Pre-transition: Extremely masculine, due to extremely high testosterone doses administered within The Games. Extremely muscular. Facial features extremely male. Transition will take extreme measures and time, lots of time. Recommended course of action: Mentally, we will induce a hypnotically susceptible coma where we can slowly introduce thought patterns and suggestions to ease the subject from his male state of mind to a female one. This will take an estimated six months. Our orders are to be gentle and not damage his psyche. We will take all the time we need without pushing. Physically, we will perform an immediate castration and vagina creation. As soon as the nerves heal and she can sense pleasure, it will be easier to manipulate her pleasure and pain sensors, helping with her with her training and eventually acceptance of womanhood. For the extreme height and musculature, nanos and hormones will take months. We will speed the process with surgery. As the subject will be in a coma for at least six months, we can take aggressive measures and not leave all the work to the nanos. End Result: Subject will be a fully functioning female breeder, capable of carrying and then raising children. She will also be sexual attractive and have a pleasant disposition, suitable for marriage. Special Orders: Madame President herself has ordered this breeder to be treated with gentleness. There will be extreme punishment if any harm comes to the subject. Chapter 73 I AM MADAME PRESIDENT. I used to be a coal miner. That is an unusual transformation, but it's nothing when you think of the other ways I've been transformed. I was man. Now I'm a woman. I was poor. Now I'm the richest person on the planet. I once was strictly heterosexual. I was a boy who liked girls, and only girls. Then I fell in love with a sissy, and her big cock didn't offend me in the least. Then I fell in love with a man, and I was ready to become his woman. Then, and this is the real kicker, I chose to turn him into a woman, well, a breeder, but she looks just like a woman. One more transformation...I'm going to be a mother. This is what happened, as it was told to me by Janine, the head newt, and a few others. I've pieced it all together as best I could. If The Games had ended, and if had Pie been declared the winner, Pie would have triggered the start of rebellion. Civil war would have raged and thousands upon thousands would have been killed. Also, rebels in place at water plants around the country would have dumped The Virus into the water supply. The Virus makes men, especially pre-pubescent boys, immune to nano tech. It also turns them in to half- feminized hermaphrodites. It also, and this is the worst part, appears to make them psychopaths. Janine, Ian and Simon, the strange trio of sissy, newt and man, were secretly running the country at that point. The president was in the dungeon of her own house have unspeakable things done to her. More on her in a bit. The terrific trio knew they had limited time. The country was a powder keg. The military leadership, who were all loyal to the president, would kill every rebel everywhere, and would certainly torture and kill the three usurpers. So they took over The Games to stall for time. They gassed the house, knocked everyone out, including me. Then they began running highlights, with the announcer glad to help. He is quite cooperative when you offer him a choice between staying the same and being turned into a sissy whore with a taste for large hairy men. They gassed us too late though. Dirk was dying right there in my arms. I still get teary eyed just thinking about it. So I did the only thing I could do to get him medical attention. I cummed him out. Away he went, leaving me all alone with my murderous thoughts. I wanted Pie dead, as dead as could be. While we were knocked out, the highlight reel was playing. Simon managed to call off the rebellion. It took about a day for word to get around, due to how the rebel cells were organized. One guy had to talk to another who had to talk to another. When I woke up in The House of Games, all I could think about was finding Pie and killing her. Walker had beat me to it. I woke up next to her corpse, her lifeless dead eyes staring at me. I jumped up with a start and ran to the door. Locked. I was trapped inside. "I can't let you leave," said Walker. He was sitting at the dining room table, eating roast beef. "You killed her?" I asked, stupidly. "Yup. I think we can both agree she had it coming." "And you'll kill me?" "I don't want to, but I will. I want out of this house, and I want my cock. I'm bigger than you. Stronger than you. And even though you look like the president, you are just a sissy and if they gave you a vagina, you probably would mind it." He was right. At that point, I didn't care anymore. I wanted out of the house, out of The Games. Dirk was gone. Janine I hadn't heard from in so long. I felt all alone. Becoming a breeder seemed like an escape. As a bonus, I was hoping they would let me morph into another shape, something that didn't look like the most evil fucking demon on the planet. I came out right then and there, with my hand under my skirt, rubbing myself through my satin panties, thinking about Janine, and then Dirk, and then Janine, and then...I don't know who I came too. I was confused. Maybe I was fantasizing about a threesome. That would have been awkward, but highly erotic for me. Away I went, escorted out of the house by agents. I gave them commands, but they wouldn't listen to me. Someone educated them. I was a fake president, not the real one. They put me in the back of a transport truck and whisked me off too...the presidential palace. I was confused. Why wasn't I at the Breeder Transformation Center? The agents took me inside, and there they were, the trio, Janine, Ian, and Simon. Ian dismissed the agents, and away they went. Janine rushed into my arms. She was taller than me now, but still so beautiful. We kissed for a long time. My cock raged and I could feel hers harden as well. If those other two guys weren't in the room, we would have fucked right there on the floor. "You look like her, but you still kiss like you," she told me. "I thought I'd never kiss you again," I tell her. "I hate to disturb this lovely reunion, but we have some difficult choices to make, and quickly," Ian tells us. The choices we made were thus... There would be no rebellion, no bloodshed, no violence, no Virus. The country had had enough misery. I would take over as president. I looked like her, talked like her, walked like her and could easily pass as her. As leader, I would begin a series of reforms, ending The Games, put new laws in place about self-determination. No more forced sissihood or breeder transformations. Men would decide for themselves who they wanted to be. Roles would not be thrust upon them. It was a great plan, except for one thing. I had a cock. To pull this off, I couldn't keep a little secret in my panties. There were too many spies around. Nothing could be left to chance. So I agreed. I came one more time as a man. Janine milked me into a glass cup, preserving my seed. I went to sleep on an operating table and woke up with a lovely new vagina, highly sensitive, very moist, and tight. Janine loves it. She fucks me nightly, and tirelessly. I have to say, I don't miss my cock at all. She seems absolutely obsesses with licking me down there. She is so good at it, I can't complain. My seed was implanted into Dirk, now Darlene, a lovely creature with big brown eyes and long curly hair. She doesn't remember much of what she used to be. What she is now is my treasure. She will care for my baby and in a few years she will go onto to breed many more for many other men, all approved by me. I will raise my baby with Janine. We will be a family. A strange family, but a family. My father and my little brother have moved into a guest mansion on palace grounds. They think Kip died in the house and I am giving them some property as payment. I might tell them who I really am one day. Zach is the most beautiful sissy I have ever seen. She has an impressive line of men paying incredible sums of money just to dine with her, and never mind her asking price for bedroom play. She still has not seen herself. The blinding seems irreversible, doctors say, but I've commanded them to keep trying or suffer the consequence. I can sound like her when I want to. Oh her...I almost forgot. The sissies who used to serve her took their revenge, using every transformation technology they had at their disposal. They gave her a cock, a big one. They turned her into a man, a big hairy one, and kind of ugly, a brute. You can still see the president in those ice blue eyes, but the rest of him is a bulky and caveman like. They put him into permanent chastity, his big meaty cock shoved into a tiny metal sleeve that was welded on. He works in a sissy house, doing laundry, running errands and serving the sissies in whatever way they determine necessary or amusing. When he misbehaves, they can send jolt of pain through the sleeve on his cock. I'm told he begs for sexual relief, and gets it when sissies with large cocks fuck him. It's the only way he can cum now. I think that is beautifully appropriate. End of Chapter 73 End of Part Sixteen End of the Story THE END Hi! I hope you enjoyed 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