Here's Fem/Fluxx' first erotic TG short story, written by Morgana.
After a long and destructive economic crisis the Transformation Party has come to power. This party is run by ruthless men who have decided to keep the people in check by enforcing "traditional values", while at the same time enjoying the pleasures the patriarchy has to offer.
Warning: The story contains sexually explicit content and is not suitable for minors. This is a fantasy only. In no way does this story reflect attitudes or behaviors that belong in real life!
They called in 35 of us today. We had been waiting for it, of course. Every single week the last six months they have taken out some 35 cons and moved them to a "secure location".
They do no tell us what this is about, only that it has something to do with the penal policy of the new government.
All I have heard is what they say on the TV: President Gordon thinks the prisons costs the tax payer too much money, and now he is planning to reduced the number of inmates by 50 percent.
How he is planning to do that while keeping his promise of fighting crime is beyond me.
We have been at the new place for a couple of days now. It isn't too bad. It looks like a minimum security prison. We can go wherever we want inside the building.
Erik said he had seen women in the next block. I do not believe him.
They took a lot of blood tests today. Full medical check up. They say they need to see if we can handle the treatment.
We talk a lot about "the Treatment" with capital "T". No one knows what it entails, although Erik thinks we are part of some secret government program.
"This new government is worse than the Taliban," he tells me.
Leonard just laughs at Erik. He is trying to keep some kind of emotional distance, I guess.
There was another group meeting today. A beautiful blonde came to talk to us. There were no prisons guards around, and we found it hard to believe a busty girls like that could dare to face 35 horny men like us.
"We are family" she said. "I know exactly what it means to be in your shoes."
Yeah, right! As if a privileged sexy white broad like that knows anything about what it means to one of us.
Then she started talking about a new technology based on nanites and viruses. It went over my head, to tell you the truth.
"There is no point in fighting it," she said. "The alternative to the electric machine is the electric chair!"
She laughed at this, as if it was a joke.
Today a female doctor came to talk to us about "The Treatment".
"I am doctor Samantha Daniels," she told us. "Some of us may know me as Doctor Sam Daniels."
Sam Daniels had been the name the male doctor you read about in the papers. He had been arrested for sleeping with his patients. I guess there may be more than one doctor with that name, but several times she referred to research of the notorious Sam Daniels as if it were hers. This makes no sense at all.
She then started to talk about the importance of female hygiene, periods and the use of the pill.
Erik whispered that they were trying to psych us out by threatening our masculinity or something.
But she truly is beautiful this doctor!
The local warden talked to us today. He called us class XX5. Apparently there have been four experimental classes before us, whatever that means. He indicated that there was a class XX6 in the block next to us.
"The machine can only handle one prisoner per day," he said. "The nano-viral treatment needs 12 hours to do its job."
They were going to start with Chin the next day.
The warden would not tell us what the machine did, beyond saying that it would make us useful and productive citizens again and that it was better than being dead.
Erik said they would brain wash us and turn us into creative creationists. President Gordon and his T Party share such beliefs, he said.
Leonard just shook his head and headed for the TV room.
Chin smiled nervously.
"Start with what?" he asked. "Start with what?"
He ran after the warden, trying desperately to get some answer out of him.
"What are they going to do to me?"
Normally behavior like that would have gotten him a week in solitary. This time the warden just looked at him with pity. That made Chin even more nervous.
They took Chin away this morning. By night fall they brought in a woman none of us had seen before. She was shaking, crying, confused. She ran over to Erik, as if seeking support, then taught better of it and retreated into a corner of the room.
We all looked at her, bewildered, unsure of what to do.
In the end she cupped her tits and tore open her blouse showing us her boobs:
"This is what they do to us!" she said. "This is what they do to us!"
Doctor Daniels gave her a sedative.
Are they trying to psych us out or something?
The girl is still here. She insists she is Chin, our mate. From time to time she nervously cups her chest. I have also seen her grasp her crotch when she believes no one is looking.
They took Gregor away next. He did not return the same night. The prison guard said he needed to sleep the treatment off.
The girl has barricaded herself in one of the vacant rooms. What are they thinking? They cannot put a sweet girl like that into the general prison population. Who knows what will happen to her.
So far, however, my fellow inmates have let her in peace. I can see bewilderment and confusion in their faces.
Fred came over the girl who calls herself Chin in the shower. He said her tits had grown bigger during the night.
He did not dare to touch her though, fearing her madness would be contagious.
That evening a new girl arrived. She was some amazingly voluptuous queen and we could not stop staring.
"Do you want to see my tits, Erik?" the girl said.
Erik nodded. And she lifted up her sweater to reveal two wonderful globes of female perfection.
"You might as well accept it," the girl said.
"Erik's conspiracy theories are nothing compared to this. They are turning us into sexy women!"
I refuse to believe that this girl is Gregor.
It took some time before Erik came up with a new theory to explain this. They were turning us into sex slaves to serve the 1 percent, he said.
Conrad threw a pillow at him. "Get the fuck out of here, you idiot!" he cried. "They cannot do that!" But I sensed some uncertainty in his voice.
Leonard took me aside: "This is going to get interesting. Keeping taking notes, my friend!"
They had to sedate Wayne to get him to the clinic. But even in his drug induced haze he tried to hold on to his crotch.
It didn't work. When he came back tonight, it was as another beautiful busty lady. If it really is him, that is. I do not know what to make out of this.
I found the girl in the shower, paralysed over her body.
"This cannot be happening to me," she said. "I have a girl friend waiting for me outside. I cannot have tits!"
She looked at me, as if searching for help. But I had no help to give her. But she is so beautiful! I could not help jerking off that night, imagining me burying my face in that chest of hers.
Kenneth was next. He did not resist them. He was convicted for murder and he knew the only alternative for him was death row.
"It is better to be a bimbo with big tits, than a corpse in the graveyard," he told us.
Later that evening he came into my room, lay down on the bed and pulled up his sweater. His big boobs were bouncing off his hand.
I asked if I could touch them, and he agreed. They were amazingly soft and big.
"I will never be able to run again," he sighed. He had been running in the Olympics.
And yes, I know that this is really him. He knew about my Cadillac. He is the only one I have told about that car.
Frank came back today, as another busty girl. He was actually quite euphoric about the whole thing, jumping up and down in order to make his tits bounce.
Erik has made a point out of this, as well.
"They are making us into fucking big busted bimbos," he said. "Because that is what those damned party bosses want."
We tried to get him to calm down and shut up. It is not a good idea to insult the ruling T Party these days.
"The Girls" are sticking to themselves now.
They are guarding the shower for each other, although I did manage to get a glimpse of Bob playing with his big butt.
Four more boys have been replaced by these strange apparitions.
The fact is that we are turning into two tribes.
The "new girls", as we call them, are nervous, embarrassed, confused and find it hard to relate to the rest of us in a meaningful way.
In the canteen they stay together, and I guess they are trying to develop some sort of support system where they could help each other cope with the trauma.
Sometimes I can see one of them comfort a newly changed woman. The new ones are often crying a lot, cursing our prisoners.
This clearly applies to the way they behave in the canteen. They avoid tables with men, but can not help glancing our way, curious somehow. Unsure of what they see now with their new eyes.
Erik has come up with a new conspiracy theory.
"They are oversexed," he says. "They have given them a strong sex drive to help them overcome their male inhibitions against fucking men. When they look at us, it is because they are fascinated."
And the rest of us, the remaining men, are becoming increasingly restless. Many of us have been in male prisons for years, and here we are, sharing the facilities with some extremely beautiful women.
"It is all a test," Erik says. "They want to see how long it takes before we all start fucking each other.
I am sure of it now, the new women are having sex. With themselves and with each other.
There hasn't been a new transformation in several days, and none of the remain men have bothered them. I guess this has let some of them lower their guard.
And I assume it must be hard not to touch and play with those amazing bodies.
I did manage to start a conversation with Tom. He has always been of the talkative type. Now I was looking into the eyes of a sexy blonde. Her face was flushed, and she stammered a bit.
"You...you...y...you have no idea!" she whispered.
"I have a p..p...pussy now. I don't know how to cope with that... but I cannot stop touching it. And some of the other girls, they... they go down on each other... and it makes me crazy... you know. It is all wrong. You have to get out of here now, before it is too late!"
I could imagine the new woman in her bed, caressing her new pussy, getting more and more aroused by the minute.
I got a hard-on, and Tim noticed. She blushed again, excused himself and left the table:
"I have to go... I have to go... Please: Get out of here. They change your mind too... You will never be the same."
It is after midnight now and I can hear girly voices moaning in the distance. There are quite a few who had started exploring their sensitive nipples and blood filled bud this night.
It all drives me crazy, I am telling you, and I am getting worried for those girls.
I mean, there remain quite a few brutal men here. When they get over their confusion, they are bound to make a move. Many of them haven't fucked a girl in years.
I would not mind fucking one of them myself, I must admit.
There was a lot of giggling in the women's rest room today. Jim had found a hole in one of the walls, and he told us that some of them had lined up in front of the mirror, jiggling their tits.
I do not know what to make out of this. Are they somehow adapting to their new lives as women. Or is this the old men inside them enjoying the view of big tits bouncing?
Are they going to do this to all of us? When will they come for me?
Click here for part 2!