The Confession Of Dr Buffman free porn video

The Confession of Dr Buffman By Bluedust Hi guys, Long-time no see! I hope you're all doing okay and are safe in this extremely difficult year. This story was something that grew gradually over time, to the point I just had to write it down for you. It's been a while, so hopefully I'm not too rusty! If you like it, please do leave a comment. I have a few more ideas in my head at present, so if the demand is there, I'll gladly post them for you. As always though, my motivation is that people are enjoying the work || Take care of yourselves, BD x ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I love my work. The man standing in front of me is my very favourite kind of client. Tall. Muscular. Genetically superb. He is the kind of specimen that could be trained to compete in any number of Olympic events and stand a very fair chance of making it to the podium. I'm not the only one watching him, there are others too, all ladies, a grand five in total. Their excitement is somewhat more withdrawn than my own, because there is a slight regret there, lingering from when it was they who stood before everyone else and were anxiously awaiting what would come next. Still, they are excited, you can tell by the way they shuffle on their seats and curl their toes, trying so hard not to smile. Let me emphasise though, they are not nearly as excited as me. This is my work, after all. I live for this sort of thing. It makes the long hours at my desk bearable when they would drive any less enthusiastic man into early retirement. But I'm not so old or easily beaten. No, I anticipate many more years of this. So many more. "Now then, Bradley," I say. "Yes, doctor," he replies, his eyes straight ahead. Oh, what a fine specimen he is! 6'5" as well! "Please could you tell the group why you are here?" His eyes cast about the well-furnished room, at the ladies all in their dressing gowns and then shyly out of the wide windows overlooking the immaculate garden. "I have come to Nuview Island for correction. At my second to last psychological assessment I tested positive for numerous levels of misogyny. At my last one I had still failed to correct this. So I have come here." "That's fine, Bradley. All these ladies came here for more or less the same thing. You have come to understand the humiliation of womanhood so that you can respect it, that's correct is it not?" "Yes. It is my hope that being mocked will teach me not to mock." At this point I must ask you to forgive his somewhat robotic speech. This is his statement, a rehearsed formality for the benefit of all present. For those who wonder, our society beyond this island is feminist to the point of absurdity, naturally at the great expense and chagrin of men. Fail to comply with its rigid rules and your life as a man can be made very, very difficult indeed. Bradley finds himself in a situation where he must either consent to "treatment" or face a remaining lifetime of high interest rates, borderline unemployability, and general vilification. Such are the times. Oh well. "That's fine, Bradley. Welcome to our little circle. And please don't worry about being naked, you've nothing we haven't all seen before." The ladies giggle despite their best efforts not to. "Now you've already taken your medicine, haven't you, my good man?" "Yes, doctor." "Very good." I check my watch. "And by now you should be able to feel the effects taking place?" "Y-yes, doctor." "Very good. Coco, would you stand please? I'd like for Bradley to feel the full reality of his situation. "Of course, doctor," she says before standing. Bradley looks down at her. We all watch Bradley. The first signs are happening. Body hair is always the first sign. All across his arms, legs and chest you can see it receding. My other clients have all described a strange prickling sensation when this happens. The shrinking follows right on cue. Now, you will quickly learn why men like Bradley always make for my favourite subjects. Bradley has, as I have said, considerable muscle. That muscle cannot simply disappear. It must be redistributed following a simple matter alteration induced by a strong chemical compound. As Bradley shrinks so too do his muscles, but that does not mean he becomes skinny. No, you can see his thighs beginning to swell, his buttocks pushing outwards. His bone structure is already racing far ahead, so as his jaw, shoulders and several other things narrow, his hips expanding to accommodate the new mass. Broad thighs and swollen buttocks and a former six-pack that's now a smooth belly. But as I have repeatedly stated Bradley had a lot of muscle and his new soft tissue needs to go somewhere and can't all go down below. I do so love the noise my clients make when their breasts start to develop, it's a cross between pleasure and horror. His nipples are turning pink and puffing, bigger and bigger until they're the size of corkscrews. Areolas spread across his budding breasts which are already too heavy to stay firm. They droop further and further down the length of his belly. You can practically see the testosterone turn to oestrogen as his steely masculinity melts into feminine feebleness. His cock is hard and rapidly dwindling. I'm not sure he's excited about his predicament but erections are common during the change, the reasons of which are still to be fully investigated. Some clients even ejaculate. I watch it bob at three and a half inches, a mere half of what it was. "Are you alright, Bradley?" I ask. "I-I think s-so doc-taahhhh!" I hide a smile of satisfaction. I've learned to get the timing just right for that moment, when their vocal chords splinter into a higher pitch. "Pay attention to Coco, please." I watch the horror in his expression as he realises they are now the same height. And I watch that horror increase as a sudden dip in height means he finds himself having to look up to meet her in the eye. That's a little mean on my part. Coco is taller than the other ladies here. Still, what a face he's making! That being said, it soon gets covered in part by a sudden overgrowth of hair. That's something we added to the medicine, an accelerated hair growth hormone. Just so they can feel like women much sooner. And with that, the change is complete. His cock has retreated to a smooth slit inbetween his legs. His breasts meanwhile hang to just above his navel. "How are you feeling, Britney?" I ask. "R-really....strange." "Welcome to the group." The ladies all clap. "I should warn you Britney, given your sudden anatomical alteration, you're about to find that you suddenly need to.... "Oh! I need to..." Her hands reach down between her bulky thighs which press hard together. "Yes, you certainly do." "P-please, where's the...bathroom?" "You don't remember?" She's prancing on the floor, her big pendulous breasts swaying to and fro. She's hunched, not quite used to the new weight yet. "Please, doctor! I need to pee!" "Across the hall there." There is one nearer but I won't tell her that. I want to see her waddle desperately across the hall in front of everyone, her wide buttocks swaying. I want to watch her heavy breasts swing and bat against each other, slapping against her soft flesh and the frustration on her face as she realises how badly she needs a bra. I want to see that moment when she loses control and realise that as a female, standing when peeing is now a dreadful idea. I want to see it spray wildly from between her thighs and her fingertips until she has the sense to squat and narrow it to a stream. And I want to see her whole body blush as everybody watches her pee as a woman, albeit all over the carpet. I see all of this and I relish it "5 credits to the lady who puts on her maid outfit and cleans up that mess," I declare. "And for 2 credits each I want 2 ladies to escort Britney up to the communal showers and get her cleaned up. 1 final credit to the lady who goes to get her new clothes for her. And now, my ardent readers, I must come to my promised confession. As I'm sure even the uninitiated among you have come to realise by now, I am a professional. Specifically, I am a doctor of genderphobia correction, gendershift biology, and often misspelt regendereform. In other words, I am fully qualified to administer every treatment in my field on this island. We are a government-sponsored outfit, at the absolute cutting edge of both the mental and physical technologies. My employers are named Hermaph. The point of my giving you all this information is so that you can appreciate just how absolute my power is over our clients here. Well, myself and four other doctors, with one superior who oversees the operation from a managerial perspective (rumour has it she underwent the first treatment of this kind in history, but that information is classified). I digress, allow me to get to my confession. I stated earlier that I love my work. The truth is, that is an understatement. I have begun to take an unhealthy satisfaction in my work. I live for it on an almost perverse level. I live to humiliate them in the worst ways possible. It makes me hard to watch them blush as they shrink and swell into shapely womanly forms that I use against them. I make them run, for instance. Topless races across the beach, their heavy breasts jiggling wildly to hinder them, their faces flush with frustration as they try to use their elbows to keep them under control as they run. Not that their wide hips help, swaying like saucers. And I make sure each of them knows the humiliation of defeat: if one wins too many times, I administer hormones to exchange their muscles for more womanly fat, their breasts and buttocks becoming a detrimental hindrance. On some occasions I will do the opposite and administer something to take away their shapeliness and render them skinny, flat-chested and boyish. But that is only for those who have begun to embrace their womanliness, a curveball that makes them feel inferior to the others around them. These women are far less bold in the communal showers. We have our own clothing store on the island complete with a fitting service. It can be a joy to send a new flat-chester (as they are often referred) to have a bra fitting and have it firmly emphasised that they are now an a-cup. As I say however this is strictly for those who have begun to enjoy their feminine curves a little too much. This is therapy after all, not a holiday camp. Its sunset and I'm at the beach bar with Dr. Kelvin, a man with whom I have formed a firm friendship. The two of us are bare-chested for the benefit of the ladies by the shore, who are jiggling wildly during an intense game of volleyball (we are very particular about the sports our clients can participate in - nothing masculine, you understand). Our attending bargirl is a woman named Trish, whose 38EE breasts are tucked very snuggly into a coconut bra. She's wearing nothing beneath her grass skirt and has already commented on the teasing sea breeze (the outfit is a little clich? I grant you, but we find this has a strong effect on the psyche of our clients. Fantasy and expectations are an interesting combination to study. I plan to write a book on the subject quite soon). "That's an interesting proposal, Tony," says Dr. Kelvin. "Do you think it could be implemented practically?" "I don't see why not," I reply. "We already administer hormonal adjustments as it is." "But is the research there? The method for doing what you're proposing must be safe and efficient to be authorised." "You know I like to keep my finger on the pulse where medical advancements are concerned. Trust me, we are less than a year away from being able to flip individual physical traits of a person's gender." "Interesting, you must send me the papers. And then we'll be able to implement your...I'm sorry I've forgotten what you called it?" "Penis Privilege. Best to call it what it is. We reward a woman's exceptional behaviour by giving her back her penis for 24 hours. One woman at a time. We give them a small reminder of what they've lost." "I see. So it's both an incentive for good behaviour in the first instance, and then a later incentive to complete their course because they miss it all over again." "Precisely. I knew you'd understand, my good man." "So you'll be able to add this to your long list of successes. I'm quite envious. Trish, one special for Dr. Buffman." "A special, Dr. Kelvin?" "Yes, you ditzy girl, a special. Don't make me spank you later." "Coming right up, Dr. Kelvin." "How about it, Trish, would you like your cock back, if just for a little while?" "Oh golly, yes. That would be fab. If you don't mind my saying, Dr. Kelvin, Dr. Buffman here's absolutely right to call it a privilege. You two gentlemen are so lucky." "A touch of penis envy, Trish?" I ask. "Thank you. To your health, the both of you." "Cheers," replied Dr. Kelvin. "Totally," said Trish. "Gosh, I'd love to be able to stand and...you know....again." "Well, be a good girl and you just might if my proposal goes through," I say to her. "Tell me more then, Tony," says Dr. Kelvin. "I assume you have some exercises planned should your proposal be accepted?" "Naturally. We want our special girl to feel the full benefit of her reward, and if that's at the expense of her fellow clients then all the better. I'm thinking a long hike to the edge of the island, where we haven't quite gotten around to installing the lavatory systems yet. Bit of a pain for anyone way out there without a penis to be in need of the bathroom, don't you think? Not a big deal for those of us with the right equipment though, of course." "You've got a sinister streak in your work, you know that, Dr. Buffman?" said Dr. Kelvin, laughing. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be very good at my job now, would I?" I shuffle uncomfortably on my chair. Something doesn't feel quite right. It's as if it's smaller somehow. "Well, I do always enjoy reading your papers. And the three books you've written to date. Your diary too, for that matter." "What did you say?" "Fascinating stuff. Very honest. I particularly enjoyed your confession about the joy you take from your practices. I found it quite inspiring actually." "You had no right!" "Admittedly though, you do need help." "I'll report you for this." "Relax. I'm a doctor, remember? I am going to help you." My seat is still annoying me. I look down and see the reason why. My thighs and buttocks are swelling, spreading across the seat. Dr. Kelvin (Sam is his first name) - is grinning at me. "What did you do?!" I demand. "You're a smart guy, I'm sure you can figure it out." I do figure it out. Trish's guilty expression gives the game away. "The drink? You bitch!" "I'm sorry, Dr. Buffman, I was told to!" I know I don't have much time. There's an antidote that can cancel out the changes of the serum before they're completed. I leave my seat and run. "You won't make it!" yells Sam. "Like hell I won't!" My sandals slip off my smaller feet so I know I'm already in trouble. I take long, masculine strides for as long as I'm able. Soon though my hips are too wide, my centre of gravity lowering with my shortening legs so that I sway and have to hold my arms out to balance myself. Dammit, how much did that maniac administer? I'm already running like a girl! My once-muscular thighs swell and smoothen, losing their strength. I'm already making up only half the ground I normally would. I look down to see my chest swelling and then long hair falls over my eyes. I brush it back with a hand and feel it drape over my shoulders, which ache as they contract. Now I feel the weight of my chest as it pushes out far enough to bounce with each step. The sensation is intense and against my will I feel my cock stiffen inside my shorts, which are already stretched to capacity by my swollen buttocks. The girls have stopped playing volleyball. "Don't you look at me!" I squeal. My voice is high and piercing. I redden all over. The bounce of my breasts is now jarring and makes me grit my teeth. Soft pain and hard sensation make my head swim. I need to get my shorts off. I'm going to cum if I don't. I stop and dig my thumbs into the sides, wriggling desperately to get them off. The fabric is so tight. With a hard grunt I finally get them down. My cock, now half its former size, springs up. The cool air runs over it and my shrinking balls. It's too late, I'm going to cum! I still only have my shorts down to my knees, I can't get away! Bent over with my swollen buttocks pushing outwards, I feel my cock bob and spurt. It shoots up onto the underside of my new breasts and it is the most disgusting feeling I've ever had. I clench hard, trying to stop it, but it only seems to increase the pressure. If it was anyone else I'd laugh at the irony, having breasts for less than two minutes and already they're being lashed with hot cum. Finally, I've managed to wriggle off my shorts. I use them to try and mop off the cum. Sam is running towards me. I throw away the shorts and flee. The rushing sea breeze between my legs seems to confirm that my penis is gone. I'm a woman. My breasts are now disgustingly gigantic and smacking hard against my belly loud enough for everyone to hear. I can't outrun Sam with my feeble body. I collapse on all fours panting for breath. I see Sam's shadow cast out besides me. "You bastard," I say. "Now, now, ladies shouldn't use that language on the island." "I am not a lady." And then I feel his hand between my legs. "Oh, I think that you are." "Don't you touch me there!" "Don't be hysterical now, miss." "And don't call me that." "Anthony. That's an easy one. You can be Antonia. See? Toni with an "i" so easy. Just remember to write it properly, won't you? And don't expect the girls to call you "doctor" anymore." He probes with his hands and with tremendous shame I realise I'm wet between my thighs. "Let go, you have no right..." "I have every right. It's in your contract, same as mine. Should you become a woman on the island you will be treated the same as all the rest. I'm sure you read that small print, clever girl that you are. You just never thought it would come to this, did you?" Then I feel something pushing into me, entering me, something that isn't his finger. His thick cock forces me to part my legs. I try to crawl away but he's holding my hips firmly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "Like I said, I'm helping you. All the girls are watching. I have to show you there'll be no favouritism with you." He thrusts hard and my eyes nearly pop. I'm on all fours, being fucked like a bitch. He goes harder and faster. He's right about the contract: I'm not legally allowed to resist. My dangling breasts sway weightily underneath me, my nipples scraping against the soft sand. I bite my lip and try to suppress the moans for as long as I can but it is utterly futile. My pussy throbs. I close my eyes and let it all out. Fuck it, it feels amazing and I have no doubt I'll feel utterly ashamed later but right at this moment I just don't care. Screw the contract, I wouldn't reject this now for anything! He fills me with his cum and leaves me trembling on the sand until I'm able to gather myself. Then he takes me by the hand back to the main complex. "Oh my, Toni, 36FF! You are a big girl. Never mind, at least you've got a full bottom to balance you out!" Amber pats it and if I wasn't still naked I'd give her what for. As it happens, she's currently fitting me for a bra to help me control said 36FF's, so I decide to let her off. As she slips the measuring tape around my waist, I can't but mourn the loss of my six-pack. "Ooh, that's a 28 waist to go with your 39 hips. Aren't you spectacular! You've done fine work here, Dr. Kelvin." "Well, I only supplied the formula," replies Sam. "Our girl Toni here deserves her own credit." "You flatter me, doctor," I say through gritted teeth. "Okay, let's make you presentable," says Amber. She has me squeeze into a tight-fitting white dress that barely reaches the tops of my thighs and hugs my bust so tightly I may not have needed the bra after all. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you with the shoes. Only 4 inch heels to get you started!" "I cannot walk in these!" I protest, holding my arms out to support myself. "Oh, you'll get used to them." "Indeed," says Sam. "And we have an appointment with Madame Superior to keep. So thank you, Amber, but we really must be on our way." "Oh, don't mention it, doctor. I'm always happy to fit out and kit out a new girl. Be sure to bring her back so we can fit out her wardrobe!" "Certainly. Come along, Toni." "Didn't you hear me?" I snarl. "I cannot walk in these!" "Well then, allow me to be a gentleman and assist you." He holds out a hand. Knowing that I won't make it up the stairs without his help, I take it. Madame Superior looks me up and down from behind her desk and smiles. She's a woman of slight build, 40-ish and with her blond hair in an old- fashioned beehive style. "Well, Antonia, when we first met I never expected things would come to this." "Neither did I," I pant. The stairs have left my calves feeling like they're about to burst. All I want is to sit down. "Well, take a seat. And do cross your legs, I don't want to have to punish you already." "I feel like I've had quite enough punishments already." "Hold your tongue, girl. Your new hormones have made you emotional, so you get a free pass for today. From tomorrow however, you're just one of the girls." "How...wonderful." "Don't push it. Anyway, you can relax, this isn't some trick to punish you. We're helping you here." "Helping?!" "Don't shriek. My girl, we shall have to give you some elocution lessons to help you learn to control that new pitch of yours. Yes, we're helping you. Your diary came to our attention some weeks ago and we have been observing carefully ever since. Do be honest, Antonia, your recent entries have been a cry for help. Your masculinity has become overpowering. You need to be broken down. Humbled. Disciplined. Once you've completed your course and learned to be a good girl, we may consider reinstating you." She picks up a paper from her desk. "By the way, your Penis Privilege proposal is very impressive. I believe we will look to implement this quite soon. Of course, now that you're a woman you could never be allowed to take credit for the work. Dr. Kelvin, would you mind?" "Certainly, Madame Superior." "You can't do that!" "I already did. And now your voice is annoying me. Do take her away, Dr. Kelvin. We'll speak in due course, Antonia." "Don't call me that! And you can't do this! I'll sue!" And so my rehabilitation begins. I would, before explaining this next part, like to elaborate a little on the methods of Hermaph. I am sure at least some of you will have noticed what appears at first glance to be a contradiction of purpose here. You may be asking yourselves a fair question: how does an extreme-feminist society seek to alter the perceptions of misogynistic individuals by actually indulging their abstract fantasies? Well, it is simply a duel-combination of theories: one of irony, and one of the old adage "too much of a good thing'. Our psychiatric evaluations reveal that the perceptions of these individuals is closely linked to their personal fantasies. The idea of women as a fairer, weaker, dependant, vulnerable, almost helpless sex, needing men just to survive and their own bodies an embarrassing hindrance. The approach of Hermaph is to indulge those fantasies, but with the "client" as the subject of their own fetishes. And we take it to extremes. We take the notion as far as possible until they reject it as absurd. Case in point. We're doing laps at the indoor pool under strict supervision. I'm struggling early on, my female body nowhere near capable of the records it set when it was male. I'm floundering but am told to go on. Refusal is not an option. I'm breathless, weak, and in the exact centre of the pool when I succumb to fatigue and begin to sink. It is only through knowing this method that I can hold to a sense of what happens next. The muscular male lifeguard dives into the pool, taking me in his strong arms and lifting me to safety. I am a damsel, limp in his strong embrace. He places me down, everyone gathering round to witness the rescue. He puts his mouth to mine, forces air into my lungs until I cough and awaken. Still weak I tremble, and he holds me in his arms. Everyone applauds and I blush at my disgrace. Me, a feeble damsel who needs rescuing by her hero, a man. How appalling. The following week I am enlisted at the hotel caf? as a maid. Naturally, there is a twist. A pill has been added to my breakfast, one to make me lactate heavily. Over the course of three days my breasts swell by a whole cup size, taking on a more oval shape. My nipples turn dark brown, puffing to double their previous. And they ache. Goodness, do they ache. I work my hours at the caf? in correct maid and heel attire. When someone requests milk in their drink I have to provide my own. Each time I have to bend over the table to administer my milk I bite my tongue, trying to ignore the relish in my customers eyes, and the riding of my short skirt which exposes my panties and stockings. The condition of my breasts means I have to sleep on my side. One night in the dorms the other girls realise my discomfort. "Are you alright, Toni?" asks Trish. "My tits feel like they're going to explode," I groan. "That's no good, you'll never sleep in so much discomfort." "Standard procedure, girls," says Coco. "Come on, Toni. Get up on your knees." Too tired to argue, I get up on my bed. All five girls I share my dorm with come over. "What are you doing?!" I squeal, as Trish pulls my nightdress over my head. "Shhh, we know what we're doing." She begins to massage my right breast, then bends down, taking my nipple into her mouth and gentle sucking. I feel myself being drained. Lisa takes my right and does the same. "We're triggering a let-down," explains Angel. "Don't worry, we do it all the time to help each other out. Us girls gotta stick together, right?" "Um...yeah, I....guess we d-ooooooh!" My panties are soaked. Coco kneels behind me, wrapping her strong arms around my body as I tremble. "It's okay," she whispers. "Let it happen, no-one's going to judge you here." My breasts tingle. My pussy throbs. Sweat glistens on my curved belly. Coco holds me tighter as I cum, back arched and eyes shut. At the end of it all I whimper and they hold me. "Thank you..." I say. It's late and there's a big party going on down at the beach. Men in suits are everywhere. Every girl has been called down to work for the night. There's music, open fires, drinks, grass skirts and lots and lots of dancing. I'm over at Trish's bar, taking a moment to discreetly rest my breasts on the counter (coconut bras, it turns out, are not particularly supportive). "Lot of people here today," I say, "any ideas what's going on?" "Nope," replies Trish, cleaning out a glass. "Not for us girls to know, I guess. You know how it is, hon." "Yeah, I do." I suck on my straw. "Say, Trish," I say, giving my drink a stir with the straw, "how long have you been on this island now?" "Oh, gosh, I'd say little over a year?" "I thought so. How come you're still here? Haven't you been offered the enlightenment exam?" "Oh yeah, once or twice." "And?" "I guess I'm just not ready yet. Tell you a secret? I kinda like it here. I know, I know, it's supposed to be a correction facility. And I guess I am "corrected" whatever that means. I just...I guess in this place I know myself. I have an identity that fits. In normal society I was an outcast, a loner that could never get a girl, to the point I ended up hating all women. I made some misogynistic advances and here I am. I dunno, it just kinda suits me being this way. I like the sisterhood. I like seeing the journeys people undertake here. I like how expressive it is sexually. It's just so...alive, you know? Always something going on. And even when people are suffering humiliation it's for the greater good. You know that with support they'll end up where...and as who....they're supposed to be. It's strange, really, so many rules and yet it's so liberating. Sorry, I guess that doesn't make much sense." "No," I reply. "No, it actually makes a lot of sense..." We both turn at the sound of a squeal. One of the businessmen has grabbed Angel and pulled her onto his lap. She's not in the least bit impressed, but that doesn't matter here. If the man is a qualified member he's allowed to act as such. Angel knows her role and is going along with it as best she can but is clearly repulsed. It's not so much a thought that enters my head, as an urge to do something. I hop off my stool, feeling the full weight of my breasts as they slide from the bar. When I arrive at the seat I practically yank Angel from his lap and stare down the man. "Hey there, what'cha doing messing around with this flatso for, when you can play with these?" I say. I go to cup my boobs for effect, but my hands slip and - pop! Off comes my bra. Everyone gasps, staring at my HH breasts and engorged, dark brown nipples (indeed my lactation has pushed me up a few sizes, much to my chagrin). The man in the suit grins a pearly white smile. "You want some, huh?" "Maybe. If you can handle me," I reply, trying to keep my composure. "Oh, I'll handle you, sweet thing, but first I'm gonna have to punish you for interrupting there." He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me across his lap. My breasts hang over the edge of his thighs. He spanks me. I moan. He spanks harder. I squeal. Looking up I see we've become the centre of attention. In fact, it seems we're a little inspirational. Men are summoning girls left right and centre to tend to their throbbing erections as they watch us. He spanks me harder. Hands are pumping and heads are bobbing. I catch a glimpse of Angel who mouths a silent "thank you" and I feel this will be enough to see me through the ordeal. I can feel the man's rigid cock against my belly. He spanks me so hard there are tears in my eyes, but...but it does something to me I never felt before, something I don't yet have a name for. When it's over (and I must stress, this is after much ejaculation leading to many satisfied, far more docile men) I scoop up my bra and head over to one of the poles to dance gently. My buttocks are sore. My pussy is wet and without underwear is exposed to the teasing breeze under my grass skirt. I plan to dance until the night is over, rather than sit down. An hour passes. "Good evening, Toni," says Madam Superior. I gasp aloud, having not heard her approach. "Good evening, Madam Superior." "Enjoying the night?" "Um, sure. You?" "Undoubtedly. I saw your little performance back there." "Oh, I see," I reply, blushing. "I was very impressed." "You...were?" "Lots of satisfied guests, which suits our purposes well. I also noticed the reason for your taking of action. Protecting the sisterhood, hmmmmmm?" "Errm, well, we um...have to have each others" backs, right?" "Quite so." She nods with what might be approval. "You've come a long way, Antonia. Quite frankly, I'm thrilled. Still a long way to go yet, of course. But I think today marked a real turning point for you." "Um, thank you very much. Um, it did?" She smiles again. "Dr. Kelvin is up in his room and has requested your company. I'd like for you to comply, if you please. Oh, I know, it's been a long night for you, but I'd be indebted to you if you could at least spend an hour." "Um....sure. I'll uh, get right on it." "There's a good girl. Thank you SO much." My bottom is too sore for me to bear challenging the stairs so I take the elevator. Pesky Dr. Kelvin has his room right at the top of the building so that he can keep an eye on everyone below. I blush with the thought that he might have been watching me earlier. I step off the lift. The whole floor seems deserted. I knock on his door. "Yes?" "It's...Antonia." "Come in, Antonia." Sure enough, he's stood by his window with the balcony door wide open. He's been watching all of it. He looks me up and down and I feel myself redden all over. "Hello Toni, thank you so much for coming on such short notice. You certainly are an obliging girl." His smirk makes my blood boil - he's so damn smug! "Well, I'm here to please...doctor," I reply, half-growling. "I was very impressed with your performance down there. Taking one for the team, very noble!" "You're very kind to say so." "And I'm about to be even kinder, by giving you a chance to excel." He snaps his fingers, and from the shadows in the corner a woman emerges and knocks the breath out of me with her appearance. It's Britney. Formally Brad. And she's got a rigid 6 inch cock. "You completed the formula already?!" I ask. "Correct. Our resources have grown considerably over the recent months, so things like this can be developed much quicker than they used to. Britney here is the first test subject. It seemed fitting that you should be...involved....in some capacity." "Involved?" "You're here to enjoy the fruits of your labour," says Britney. She walks up to me. I never realised how much shorter I am than her. She puts her hands on my slender shoulders and pushes me down." "No, you can't be serious," I protest. "No resistance please, Toni, there's a good girl," instructs Sam. "But I - gllllgghhh!!" She thrusts her cock right to the back of my throat. Her hand grips me by the hair. I feel the shuttle ride back and forth along my tongue. Trying to gain some control I wrap my lips tight around it. I'm sucking a cock. I don't believe it. Firm hands take hold of my buttocks and raise my lower half. It's Sam. My breasts hang weightily underneath me, knocking against each other as I motion back and forth. Needing to brace myself, I'm forced to grip Britney's shapely ass, the buttocks I gave her. I know what's coming next. Sam rams his cock into me from behind so that I'm filled at both ends. Now I'm just along for the ride, a shared object between two people. Britney has her cock in my mouth, the cock I took from her, whilst I in turn have had my cock taken from me by Sam, who is fucking me with his own cock. The jigsaw puzzle connects deep in my brain in a moment of enlightenment that drives me to sheer elevation. Yes, this is right. This is poetic. This is natural. I deserve this punishment and welcome my part in this beautiful cycle. As hot cum runs from my lips and my pussy, tears of joy run down my cheeks. I am naked on the balcony, being held up by Sam as my whole body is too achy and trembly to support itself. "The party's coming to an end," says Sam. "And in another way, just beginning," I whisper. "In more ways than you know." "What do you mean?" "I had another reason for bringing you up here, Antonia. Look out across the ocean. Do you see that island there?" "I do." "We've recently bought it in Madam Superior's name." "Hers? Not the government's then?" "No. This is a personal project. Times are changing, Antonia. More and more people are getting sick of the way modern society treats its men, and we're reacting. That's what the party tonight was all about. Those businessmen down there are all investors in our new enterprise." "Enterprise?" "We're forming a new society, one in which men have authority over women. Of course, very few women would choose to live on such an island, given the perks they enjoy where they are." I gasp. "So you're turning men into women - all for his new society?" "I do love that clever brain of yours. Yes, the development of this technology was all a ruse for our greater purpose. When the time comes, we will escape to that island and enjoy our own sovereignty. We'll enjoy our own peace, inviting all men here, whilst mainstream society slowly crumbles without them." "I had no idea." "We all want you to be part of the project. Our goal is not to rule with cruelty, but kindness. The men who become women will need a worthy role model as they adapt to our ways. We'd like for that role model to be you, Antonia. A year to complete your own training and you'll be ready. I'd like for us to do it as husband and wife, if possible." "Husba....?" Sam smiles. "If we can progress our existing relationship, that is. But in the meantime, as to the main proposal, what do you think? Will you accept?" I answer him with a kiss, and then, for the removal of any doubt, I add "I rather think I will."