Three Wishes for the Mrs.

 Hi there! It's been a long time, I know. I realize some love it and some really hate it, but A.I. has finally allowed me to bring some material like this to life, so I couldn't resist. Here's a new story for you, a short film I devised, using Grok Imagine A.I. (plus some editing software). If the look of it seems a bit unusual, it's because I deliberately intended it to look like vintage 1950s paperback novel cover artwork brought to life.

I hope this comes across as a work of some quality; I don't want to generate "A.I. slop", if I can help it, so I've tried my best to see to it that this isn't that, but that determination ultimately rests with you. There are still a lot of limitations to the technology, so there are some details that "drift" across the narrative (the brunette woman's brown eyes suddenly become a striking blue at a key moment, early in the tale, for instance), and some background details become inconsistent. I tried to mitigate a lot of it, but some things like this still happen or slip through.

While I obviously didn't film, animate or visually design any of this (the data-scraping A.I. program did all of that, of course), I did devise the story, all of the dialogue, most of the camera direction and some of the acting, without aid of the A.I.. though Grok Chat did help refine some of the prompts, so that the video clips would, more or less, turn out the way I had envisioned them. It was harder and more time-consuming than you might think; there are lots of built-in visual biases in the A.I. that can make what seem to be simple actions or details go ridiculously wrong over seemingly endless video generations of a clip, plus super-strict (and often arbitrary) Content Moderation for even something as PG-rated as this is.

Anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoy this first formal foray of mine into A.I.-assisted storytelling...

 

                    

 

Movie Night

 It was yet another Friday night. Jeff emerged from his parked car and walked the short distance, from the driveway of his friend Bill's home to the front door, bracing from the sharp, February chill of the evening air, as his footsteps crunched softly in the occasional patches of residual snow that had drifted across the pathway the day before. It was a good night to be indoors, he thought to himself, preferably with some cozy female companionship... but that, unfortunately, wasn't in the cards. In fact, it hadn't been, for many months now.
 

No... sadly, Jeff had been shot-down innumerable times since his nasty break-up with his girlfriend, the year before, failing repeatedly at the bars and clubs he regularly frequented... to say nothing of his lack of success at picking up his prime female targets at the handful of parties he'd attended this season. Perhaps Jenny had poisoned the well, in a parting act of vengeful spite, or maybe it was just that Jeff was 'one-time lucky'... it was difficult to say for certain.

Apparently, the dating standards of the local female population had risen substantially, lately. Quite substantially... to the point where Jeff, who considered himself to be reasonably good-looking and fit, gradually found that all the single women -anyway, those whom he was in the least bit attracted to- were now well out of his league. The truth, clearly, was that his job didn't pay very well, didn't impress, and clearly wasn't leading to anything better. It didn't help that his rather forceful, 'old-school' pick-up techniques uniformly went over like a lead balloon with the women he met. He wasn't a good prospect, and wasn't particularly charming or endearing, so he hit a constant brick wall.

As a result, Jeff was doing what many lonely guys have resigned themselves to these days: hanging out with their fellow male buddies... gaming and watching movies at home on a big, hi-def TV screen. His pal, Bill, wasn't much more successful, career-wise, than he, and even less so on the dating scene. In fact, Jeff strongly suspected Bill was still a virgin, heading into his late twenties... but, bless him, he had a killer home theater set-up. So, tonight was once again about crashing in the den of Bill's modest, rented house and watching an action-adventure epic on Blu-ray in 5.1 DTS sound. And maybe... just maybe... it'll involve something more. He certainly hoped so, since the current dating drought had left him horny as fuck, on nearly a constant basis, with precious few satisfactory outlets, beyond masturbation.

He knocked on Bill's door and soon heard the muffled thumps of approaching footsteps within. Jeff dug his left hand into his pants pocket and fondled the fob of his new key chain, the polished-stone yin-yang disc as smooth to his touch as glass. He briefly pulled it out and held it in his palm, taking another look at it under the porch light, before casually tossing it up and catching it in his hand, and quickly stuffing it back into its denim home, just as Bill opened the door and welcomed him in. Perhaps what he had been told the other day about the fob was completely crazy, but now, deep within his pocket, there was more radiant warmth cradled in his clenched fist than his own body heat could account for. At any rate, if nothing happened tonight, his personal risk was zero, so it was worth a try...

* * * * * * *

 I heard Jeff knock at the door while I was getting things ready for tonight's show. Nothing fancy, just some popcorn, chips and drinks, plus I'd just put in an order for the usual pizza delivery from Giannelli's. Earlier, I had re-calibrated the home theater sound system, tweaked the TV's picture controls and did a quick demo to adjust the treble, bass and overall volume, in "cinema mode",  for maximum effect. Maybe this was all a bit too anal-retentive, but I wanted us both to have a good, relaxing time this evening, and as far as I was concerned, that meant perfect-as-possible audio/video presentation. Of course, what would really make it ideal would be to have a sexy girl over, instead, but I knew that wasn't going to happen, thanks to my chronic, almost debilitating shyness around the opposite sex. Nope, it'll be another Saturday night with just Jeff and myself, the 'strike-out kings'...

Maybe my imagination was getting the best of me, but Jeff seemed a bit glib when I greeted him at the door, I don't know... it was as if I had just missed catching him having a private laugh, at my expense, for falling for some sort of prank he had devised. There was no logical reason for this to be the case, though, since Jeff didn't exactly have the reputation for being a practical joker, so I put it out of my mind. I welcomed him inside, out of the winter evening's icy grip.

We engaged in our usual small talk before starting the film; minor gripes about our current jobs, dealing with the last snowstorm, describing a couple of hot-looking women we saw during the week (and how we wished they were here with us!), what chances the Kansas City Royals have of going all the way this coming season, etc. Before long, it was showtime. I grabbed the remote and loaded the Blu-ray disc, which featured a few trailers for the latest couple of superhero epics due out this summer, a sci-fi time-travel heist flick, and a WWII action-drama, which looked promising. Finally, the disc menu; I hit 'Play'...

* * * * * * *

 Jeff had honestly been looking forward to seeing the movie, but tonight, he was far more interested in his own little secret 'live' production. He slowly... discreetly... snaked his hand into his pants' left front pocket, and clutched the key chain fob. As smoothly-polished as it was, the male and female gender symbols on the face of the fob -which took the place of the traditional pair of black and white dots of the yin-yang- were slightly raised, enough so that they could be subtly felt, as he ran his thumb gently across them, like braille dots to a blind reader.

As he feigned giving the movie his complete attention, Jeff stared at Bill out of the corner of his eye, focused his thoughts on his friend's very essence, and began to rub the fob with his thumb, in a circular, clockwise motion, sweeping around and around, from the male symbol to the female, again and again, without stopping. While doing this, he felt it, once more, grow warm in his hand; warmer than his body heat (but not painfully hot)... then suddenly cool down... and then swiftly warm up again. It seemed to pulse in his palm this way, eventually reaching a constant, thermic rhythm, as he steadily rubbed the fob's yin-yang face clockwise. Was this really going to work, or had he been conned into buying what was really just a weird little electronic toy, of no use other than as a hi-tech substitute for a string of 'worry beads'?

Jeff clandestinely scrutinized his friend, as he continued his secret activity, looking for any changes in Bill's appearance... but there was no evidence to be found. He recalled that he'd been told that he'd have to be a little patient for results to become apparent, so he finally decided to give the movie his full attention, while still stroking the fob, without pause, as he had been instructed.

After an exciting introductory action scene, the opening credits sequence began, full of surreal cgi women and guns, symbolizing the movie's overall tone, while a pop diva wailed the movie's catchy theme song. Jeff looked up at the clock on the wall, and saw that ten minutes had elapsed, and he glanced over at Bill. His jaw nearly dropped open when he saw that Bill's short hairstyle was appreciably longer; still short and 'butch', but it was definitely growing out! It had also shifted from dark-brown to an almost raven brunette.

 Not only that, but the slight, five-o'clock shadow of beard stubble was gone! Jeff knew that Bill always kept himself thoroughly shaved, and closely, especially during the work week, so he usually didn't have much in the way of noticeable stubble... but no razor on earth could've gotten him looking this smooth. Instead, Bill now appeared to be someone who had undergone months of painstakingly-extensive electrolysis, neutralizing every last follicle, from the lower half of his face, downward. Upon further inspection, Jeff realized that Bill looked very slightly thinner, mainly his upper arms and neck... and faintly shorter. He was already losing a tiny bit of body mass.

So, that was it; the fob's magic was indeed real, and clearly was working, but at a nearly-imperceptible rate. It was like trying to watch a clock's hands move, or a lighted candle melt, in real time... not much could be seen if you kept your eyes on it, but if your attention was taken away for a few minutes, and you checked back, afterward, the evidence of change was plainly there. Jeff smiled. Bill saw the grin, but probably thought Jeff was reacting to what was unfolding on the screen, no doubt little-suspecting that he himself was, in fact, the prime focus.

* * * * * * *

 I was so absorbed in the movie, which hit the ground running, that I didn't notice how quickly the time flew by. I glanced at the clock and saw that twenty minutes had already elapsed. Jeff seemed to be really into it, too, from the way he kept looking over at me and smiling. There's nothing quite like some prime cinematic escapism to help a guy unwind, after another busy week at work. The hot blonde chick on the screen, caught up in the movie hero's adventure, however, would help release a lot more of my end-of-week tension, I thought to myself, if she were here, instead, standing in front of me, stripping out of her sexy clothes.

I briefly drifted off into a daydream, during a minor lull in the screen action, imagining her naked, in front of me... tossing back her golden tresses, smiling enigmatically at me while sensuously running her dainty hands down her curvaceous hips... letting me fondle her big, pert tits... then sinking to her knees to give me an expert blowjob. My penis rose to attention at these thoughts, throbbing hotly, as I then imagined her sitting on my lap, riding my cock, moaning sweetly as I filled her completely. Strange, though, how my dick felt like it wasn't tenting my jeans quite as much as usual.

I looked over at Jeff, and he was still clearly enjoying himself. Well, I thought to myself, at least I have a good best friend over for company, if I can't have a hot girlfriend here tonight (-or any night!). It sure beats sitting in this place alone. Still, I couldn't shake the idea that Jeff was hiding something.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. The pizza was here! I paused the movie, got up, and made my way to the front door. Curiously, my jeans felt uncharacteristically tight in places, mainly in the seat. Maybe I should cut down on the pizza, after tonight, I thought. Upon opening the door, there was Craig, the kid who usually delivers the orders. He stood there, waiting patiently... the pizza box, piping-hot in its insulated pouch, was resting in his outstretched arms.

Half-bored, he recited his stock greeting: "Gianelli's Pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, large... that was with extra cheese, right?"

The end of his query trailed off, hanging in the cold night air with the frozen vapor cloud of his breath, as he gave me an odd, slightly-confused look, his eyes squinting, as they traveled from my face, down to my feet, and back up again.

Strangely, he seemed a bit taller than I remembered him being the last time he was here, a couple of weeks ago. He must still be going through puberty... a late-bloomer, I ruminated. He was getting pretty built, though. I guessed he was probably already a formidable member of whatever high school athletic team he was undoubtedly signed-up for; perhaps he was even the star of the team. I felt a bit intimidated in his presence, actually, which was odd, since he was just a local high school kid, several years my junior.

"Hi there, Craig. Yeah, thanks. That's perfect.", I replied. Hmm, funny... that came out a bit higher-pitched than I intended, as though my voice was still cracking, like it did around the time I was still his age. My throat was dry; I probably needed to drink something.

After an awkward pause, he stammered, "Uhhh... th-that'll be fourteen bucks."

"Fine. Here you go, buddy... plus your tip.", I said, thinly... passing him $16 cash, plus an extra 50 cents in change. Was it my imagination, or were my hands looking sort of... 'off'? Compared to his open hand, mine seemed... different. Slimmer, somehow; a little smaller... and I didn't realize my nails needed a trim. Eh, it was probably just a trick of the dim lighting on the front step. Also, some guys just have chunky-looking hands. I bet his girlfriend, whoever she might be, is well-acquainted with those big, strong hands.


I found that I'd been staring at him a moment too long for the transaction to warrant, which was pretty embarrassing. He gave me another weird look, then said, "Okay... well, enjoy your pie, uh, 'Bill'... thanks for the tip... have a good night. And hey, I hope you're feeling alright, man.", and quickly hustled back to his car and sped off to serve his next round of customers.

Huh, I thought. That was pretty odd. Craig usually didn't act so nervous and abrupt when he made previous deliveries. Other than a dry throat, I felt perfectly fine... why did he make that last comment? He also said my name with a hint of sarcasm, like it was some kind of put-on. Poor kid... I hope he wasn't high on something, especially when he's out there on the road. I closed the door and returned to the den with our meal, and resumed the show, still puzzling about Craig's strange reaction to me.

* * * * * * *

 Jeff concealed an evil smile, as he watched Bill return with the pizza, his nostrils filling with its tangy, irresistible aroma. As far as he could tell, his friend was still oblivious to his slow, unwitting metamorphosis... even though he was, to look at him, clearly smaller and more effeminate in his appearance. His upper body was slighter, with narrowed shoulders, while his hips were beginning to flare out. He might've simply come across to others as a skinny teenager, struggling with the ravages of puberty, but his body frame was beginning to reveal an unmistakably female shape. His hair was growing longer and fuller, too, encroaching on his forehead and ears, though maybe not quite enough for Bill to really feel it much, yet... it was difficult to tell. The pizza guy must've noticed, however, judging from what Jeff had heard of their brief transaction at the door, and Bill had already developed an unconscious, mildly-feminine sway in his gait, as he walked back to the den. He wondered when Bill would finally realize what was happening.

When Bill turned to put the pizza box down on the coffee table and open it up, Jeff got a nice view of his transmogrifying bottom. It was now quite plump and shapely, as were his thighs, stretching the fabric of his faded jeans. No doubt his pelvis was growing wider and shifting its position, to allow for future childbirth, making his butt protrude out at an ideally-feminine 45-degree angle. Jeff was amazed how close to a total babe his still-male buddy was, at least when viewed from this particular perspective, and that Bill didn't seem to have caught on yet that anything was amiss... or else he was doing a bang-up job of hiding it from him. While he had no real sexual interest in the current 'she-male' state Bill presently was entering, Jeff nonetheless considered these swelling buttocks and hips, and what the rest of Bill would surely, ultimately become within the next hour... and it was making Jeff's cock hard and eager. Now, if his friend had been fully-female, at this moment, Jeff figured that he might very well have tried to take Bill from behind, doggy-style. While he would never openly admit this to anyone, the taboo nature of all this was driving him wild!

 If Bill only knew just how androgynous-bordering-on-cute his face was becoming, at this point, he'd be shocked, Jeff thought. He looked like a borderline-pretty tomboy now, but the 'butch' qualities were gradually, inexorably fading away, much to Jeff's hidden delight.

* * * * * * *

 Little things have been nagging at me, almost since the film began. I've been starting to feel a bit strange, here and there, but with having Jeff over, the nearly-nonstop action in the movie, and taking care of the pizza guy, I was ready to simply chalk it up to fatigue, after a busy week at work... I wasn't thinking totally straight, and maybe I was coming down with a cold as a result... perhaps Craig was correct in his reaction to me. But as the evening progressed, the increasingly-weird details began to mount up... things I could no longer ignore.


Forty-five minutes after starting the movie, I finally realized something was truly awry when, while seated normally, I found that my heels were no longer completely touching the floor, and my shoes seemed a little too roomy for my feet. Additionally, something was up with my pec muscles. They seemed to lose some of their taut definition, and gain a little weight, too, as if I had been slacking off from my regular workouts and was starting to go to pot... they hung on me, and also began to press against the fabric of my shirt, making my nipples chafe a bit, even though I was wearing a soft, rather comfortable t-shirt.

Whenever I would make a comment about the on-screen action, or laugh, my throat seemed slightly tighter, and my voice sounded a bit strange...  higher and softer, and in a sort of animated, sing-song cadence that I, somehow, couldn't shake. For some reason, I couldn't quite reach my normal, lower register when I spoke. It was like when I spoke to Craig, earlier, only much worse. Even the sound of my breathing seemed, oddly, a bit higher-pitched than usual. At one point, I giddily laughed out loud (which seemed to be, disconcertingly, more like a giggle) at a particularly off-the-hook stunt in the movie... and I could swear that a high, little squeal came out of me, directly afterward, as I inhaled.

Looking over at Jeff, he didn't show any signs of noticing that anything weird was going on at all. Despite this, I was terrified, and vainly tried my best to hide from him what was inexplicably happening to me. I could sense that my penis and scrotum were feeling (unnervingly) less snug against my inner thighs, within my briefs, which now appeared to be a little loose in the crotch, but much tighter around my hips and thighs. Just above them, my six-pack stomach had lost definition, as far as I could tell, feeling softly-smooth to the touch, as I discreetly brushed my fingers across it, under my t-shirt.

I caught sight of my hips just beginning to jut out, where they hadn't before, and my hands, resting along side them, were clearly smaller and girlishly slender... so, what I had experienced, when paying Craig for the pizza, wasn't either a trick of the light, or his having unusually large hands, after all! I also noticed that I had, without realizing, effeminately crossed my legs, one curvy thigh resting atop the other. I quickly changed my sitting position, hoping Jeff didn't see anything, but only in hindsight did I realize that I continued to keep my legs tightly together, at the knees, rather than spreading them open, in a masculine pose, like I normally would.

By this time, I knew that I was developing breasts, both from their increasing gravity and their shape, as they pushed out tightly against my otherwise-baggier shirt; still small, but unmistakably female B-cup tits. All the pieces of the puzzle were suddenly fitting together... somehow, some way, I was slowly -but surely- changing into a woman!

 
A few minutes later, when it looked like Jeff wouldn't catch me doing it, I pulled at my collar and took a quick peek down the front of my shirt, and saw a valley of cleavage dividing two prominent hills of soft, creamy flesh... pendulous, globe-like and pushing further outward, sporting twin, conical nipples the size of thimbles, and partially-obstructing the view below them. If they weren't C-cups yet, they soon would be.

The fear and embarrassment of being seen like this began to mix with a secret thrill that I'd kept intensely private since my mid-teens, and my penis got rock-hard as a result... except that I found, in a quick, stealthy game of 'pocket pool', that it was so much smaller now, the size of a child's, if that. It could no longer bulge beneath the increasingly-baggy crotch of my jeans. To be blunt, my 'fishing tackle' was too small to even be fully grasped in my pocketed hand, and now could only be held between my thumb and forefinger. I felt other, frankly alarming things going on down there, as well, but I didn't dare try to sneak a look, what with Jeff in the same room with me.

In a counterproductive bid to maintain my charade of normalcy, I slipped off my (now) ill-fitting shoes and socks. While doing so, I self-consciously tried to sound 'macho', saying, "Man, my feet are too damn hot, they need some air..." -and I nearly froze as I said it, for I heard my own voice emerge as a contralto -still deep, but clearly higher and feminine! Jeff looked over at me, poker-faced, but with a twinkle in his eye, and turned his attention back to watch the movie, as if sensing nothing out of the ordinary.

I stretched my legs, while still seated, and discovered, with renewed surprise, at how dainty my feet looked, and how shapely my tapering calves and thighs appeared through the legs of my skinny jeans. -And my toenails were painted red! Quickly, out of fear, I reflexively tucked my legs up against my chest and under my chin, my somewhat-thinner, hairless arms wrapped around them, in an attempt to hide my slowly-burgeoning bust-line. I could feel the soft, tickling weight of locks of hair, that were now shaggily falling over my ears, forehead and the back of my neck... and then a few bangs dropped in front of my eyes, daring me to brush them out of the way with a small, graceful hand.

As my mind raced with the myriad changes simultaneously taking place, in a slow, inexorable march toward womanhood, what I failed to realize, was that this fetal-like 'tucked' sitting position, while casual, was more often taken by girls than guys! I was unwittingly sabotaging my own efforts, making myself look more feminine than ever! My widening hips, growing buttocks and narrowing waist were actually highlighted more while I sat in this stance. Especially, I feared, to Jeff, who could see me seated in profile, from where he was sitting, down the sofa from me.

Meanwhile, tiny as it was, my cock felt as ragingly hard as ever, but also so isolated from its normal surroundings. I guessed that it was now no larger than my little finger, and likely a bit shorter... and with no clear evidence that my testicles were still there at all. In fact, I sensed something that felt a bit like them, slowly rising up deep inside me, now well above my crotch. Not only that, but the inner plumbing of my penis felt like it was separating from its home base... my miniature hard-on looming a few inches above where my pee-hole now resided, farther beneath me, disturbingly close to my asshole. I took cold comfort in the fact that all this was hidden from Jeff's view.

 I desperately attempted to, at least, seem to be engrossed in the movie... and while watching the story continue to unfold, I started paying less attention to the action and plot, and more on the physique of the movie hero.

"Damn, is he built!", I thought to myself, "And he has such charm, the way he slips in and out of danger with effortless ease... I'd like to meet him some time, tell him how much I admire his work, and... and... oh wow, I wonder if he'll take his shirt off in this scene... whoa..."

I didn't realize, at this moment, that my mouth was hanging open, with a look of awe and mild lust on my cute, steadily-feminizing face, and then biting my puffy lower lip, sensuously... nor that my softly-moaning voice was yet another level higher in register --now a mezzo-soprano-- nor even that I was instinctively clutching and fondling my round, full, developing right breast, imagining that the leading man in the movie was squeezing and kneading it in his large, powerful hand. As I marveled at the macho movie star, in ways that I hadn't before, I was unaware that another thirty minutes had passed, if not more.


At the wrap-up of the film's climax, I noticed that a void had since opened up, down low in my crotch, and my erection, as strong as ever, felt sort of... different and misplaced... so tiny, and no longer central... and sort of, within me. A completely smooth and uncluttered groin. My tits had grown to D-cup size, and were squashed uncomfortably behind my sleek folded legs, my enlarged nipples about as sensitive as my... well, I guess it was my clit now. And below that, I perceived substantial extra padding throughout my seat, hips and thighs. I was much smaller now, and while snug in a few places, my clothes didn't really fit me at all, anymore.

Everywhere that the bare skin of one body part touched another, I felt a heavenly softness, and my hair had grown long and full enough to tumble down my shoulders and upper back. It felt so much finer, fuller and silkier than ever before, and I kept having to brush it out of my eyes, in a feminine sweep of my dainty hand. That was it, then. I was physically, completely a chick, through some phenomenon I couldn't begin to understand. What was I going to do? Jeff was sitting right there, in the same room, acting as if nothing had happened... how would he react? How could I even explain this, when I was so confused about it, myself? I felt so vulnerable and ashamed...

* * * * * * *

 Holy shit!, Jeff thought to himself, his left thumb sore from the repetitive motion of its circling the yin-yang fob for over two hours, without pause... This worked out better than I ever could've dreamed! I've actually changed my best friend into a total fucking goddess of a babe!

And he was quite right. A woman of extraordinary beauty, who could've been plucked directly from any straight guy's sexy fantasy, now occupied the exact space where a man named 'Bill' once sat, a couple of hours before. There was no outward trace of his male origins remaining, other than his grey t-shirt and pale blue jeans, which now seemed both out-of-place, and incredibly sexy... half-hanging from, and half-clinging to, her petite, curvaceous frame.

Jeff had nearly, prematurely jizzed in his shorts a few moments before, when he saw 'Bill' -looking like a hot bitch in heat- fondling herself at the sight of the movie's star going shirtless, seemingly close to reaching orgasm, without going all the way. But now, as the film's long end-credits roll crawled slowly up the screen, Jeff was the only actual live man in the room, so maybe he could help her out with that little problem of hers.

* * * * * * *

 The movie was over, as was, apparently, my continued existence as the man I thought I was. It was then that Jeff rose from his seat, and walked over to me, his face blooming into a devilish grin. I was so nervous... my rapidly-beating heart felt like it was about to crash through my rib cage. 

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?", he said, with mock-surprise. "I gotta say, that's an interesting new look for you, buddy! Getting in touch with our feminine side, are we? Heh-heh-heh.".

I stared at him, unbelieving, cocking my head to one side, like a quizzical puppy. Why wasn't he shocked at this? He seemed more like an enthusiastic artist, admiring his own work-in-progress, than a witness to something so far out of the realm of everyday reality.

Checking me out, he gave me a wolf-whistle, which made my face flush, and basically answered the question before I could ask him. "-Of course, I helped you a little with that, behind the scenes... and you've passed with flying colors, Bro! Heh-heh..."

I looked down at myself, then back at him, embarrassed and confused. I stammered, "Y-You did this to me?? But--", and I stopped right there, shocked at the high, breathy soprano voice that was now mine, melodiously rising and falling with each syllable spoken! It was totally feminine, unlike the usual flat monotone that I, and most other men, normally project, when speaking aloud. In addition, I was increasingly more animated and effeminate in my hand gestures and overall body language, especially when speaking, embellishing the already girlish effect! This was doing me no favors!

Jeff's grin  grew wider. "Yes, that's right... I did it. I'm not gonna tell you how... that will remain my secret. Let's just say that when I found out I could really do it, I decided to take our friendship to a whole new level, 'Bill'... one with an entirely new dynamic. Now stand up, let's get a better look at the 'new you'..."

Curious myself, I did as he asked. I got up from the sofa, my bare feet flat on the floor, expecting to meet him eye-to-eye, as always... only to find that, when facing him, my straight-ahead eye line was now level with his upper chest, reaching no higher. I had to be close to a foot shorter than him, which was also the amount of height I had obviously lost on this fateful evening, thanks to him! He began to remove his t-shirt, dropping it to the floor, and I was faced with a torso that was a wall of taut, chiseled muscle, festooned with a moderate mat of coarse body hair that I, myself, no longer possessed. My eyes climbed to meet his gaze, and found that they glittered with barely-contained lust. His smile was predatory, and I suddenly felt like a small, inadequate child in his newly-intimidating presence... or, more to the point, like a pathetic little lamb that had mistakenly entered a wolf's den.

Obviously thrilled, Jeff's eyes scanned me from head to toe and back again, with a prolonged pause at my chest. Then he reached and groped my ample left breast, running his hand under it to feel its heft, brushing his thumb over the erect nipple. His swift, bold touch made me shiver, and I started to back away. Before I could do so, he pinched my nipple and pulled on it, before freeing it to snap back. I let out a small gasp, out of a combination of surprise, pain and... pleasure.

"Here-", Jeff said, "-you should get a better look at who you are now... see what I'm seeing. But first, why don't you take off those clothes. Those things don't fit you anymore, anyway... you look like a sexy refugee, dude... er, dudette... Heh."

I gave him a nasty look, but -yielding to my own curiosity- ultimately consented, and removed what were now my too-large shirt, my half-tight jeans and my ill-fitting briefs. He took the remote control and switched the video source to the web-cam feed that I had trained on the very spot where I now sat, where I often Skyped from. I watched the sixty-inch hi-def screen in amazement, to see a stunning young vixen, easily Playboy centerfold material, looking back, completely nude, mimicking my every live movement.

I walked around a bit, and saw my hips and ass sway, my whole body presenting in an extremely sexy, feminine manner. It wasn't as though I wanted to, nor that I was being forced to act this way; it was more instinctual, like it was now my natural way of being and behaving. If anything, it was as though I had simply forgotten how to act believably masculine. I then tried to deliberately walk 'like a man', only to find the video camera capturing a pretty woman's caricature of a guy's walk... a broad, overly-exaggerated swagger, almost pantomiming John Wayne, or perhaps an orangutan. I might as well have tried scratching my (non-existent) balls and belching out loud. I didn't look like a man; I didn't even look like a boy. I just looked like what I was: a very pretty young woman, acting zany and uncouth. It was (distressingly) silly and cute, rather than convincing.

"Wow... y'know, you don't look anything like a 'Bill' anymore... you strike me as more of a 'Jill'. I think I'll call you that from now on, baby.", Jeff remarked, with a condescending smirk.

'Baby'?! -Ugh! He was already treating like his subordinate... like some helpless waif, no doubt because of his size advantage over me, and the fact that he was the one who still owned a penis. And this 'Jill' business; if he thought I was going to just discard my male birth name and go by whatever girl's name struck his fancy, he had another thing coming. I started to fume, my hands prissily planted on my wider, rounded hips, in consternation. I really wanted to punch his stupid face, the jerk, for doing this to me. Sure, I'd privately fantasized about changing into a hot woman like this, for years, but on my terms -not his, nor anyone else's! I meant to haul off and hit him, but once again my new body betrayed me, by reinterpreting my intentions in the heat of the moment, and I surprised myself by giving him a limp, girly slap, instead!

I'm sure it stung a little, but Jeff was more amused at this than anything. He laughed at me, as he rubbed the red mark I left on his cheek. Humiliated at how ineffectual the slap was, I tried again. This time, I formed a fist, though the wrong way, with my thumb tucked inside my curled fingers -since my now-longer red-painted nails would've otherwise dug painfully into my palm-  and tried to pound him with the outer edge, as though I were giving him a closed-handed karate chop. He grabbed my narrow wrist in his big hand, easily, before I could connect, and held it fast in his more-powerful grip. I squirmed, but it felt like a vice. He laughed in my face again, and I died a little, inside.


"Sit your pretty ass back down, 'Jill'. If you really wanna play rough, we can play rough. I guess it's time to show you who's the boss now, you silly little bitch!", he commanded.

Then Jeff, my scheming 'pal', grabbed me, scooping me up in his big, strong arms, like a groom about to carry his bride over the threshold, and summarily tossed me down on the sofa. I defiantly tried getting up, but he sent me tumbling back down, with a quick, effortless shove. My mind reeled at how much stronger than me he was, particularly compared to my memories of beating him so many times at arm-wrestling!

Jeff sat back down and slid over to my end of the sofa. With a wide, wolfish smile still fixed on his face, he leaned into me, dominantly, pinning me against the padded armrest of the couch, easily. He returned to telling me what an incredibly beautiful and sexy girl I'd become, and that he simply couldn't hold back any longer. I was just too damn hot, and that he must have me, now, dammit. Then he stopped talking, his lips drawing closer to mine...

I struggled a bit... but, again, he was so much larger and stronger than I was now, not all that much different from the hero in the movie we were watching, really... and I couldn't stop him, as he began to get increasingly amorous and a little forceful, kissing me deeply... and fondling my big, soft, left breast with one hand, while undoing his fly with the other. My mind was, at once, a mass of confusion, with conflicting feelings of fear, anger and lust. The sound of his zipper opening, and the rustle of his pants falling down to his ankles, filled me with both excitement and dread. His penis soon tumbled heavily out of his briefs, looking a lot bigger than I expected it to be, as it bobbed up and down, growing larger and more erect as it engorged with his hot blood, topped by a shiny, thick purple head.

Before I knew it, he had removed all of his clothing... a horny male mate, as naked as I was... and more than ready to fuck me. Another effortless push, and I was on my back, my slight shoulders pressed up against the arm of the sofa. He spread my legs apart with little difficulty, exposing my tight, virgin pussy to his large, eager cock, ready for forceful, repeated entry, as I felt my new lady parts grow wet and slick. I found myself not really wanting to fight him anymore, but to be filled by him, so I surrendered to his taut, powerful body, his hard, pumping cock and his dominant male aura. In fact, I think I was beginning to fall in love with him, despite his extreme treachery. Maybe I really wanted every part of this, all along, and could only admit it to myself now, at this precise moment, under this particular set of circumstances.

I glanced over at my big TV screen, to see myself looking absolutely hot and moaning sexily, while being fucked, missionary-style, by my best friend... his face out of the frame, and discovered that the video feed was being recorded. As waves of pleasure hit me from his relentless thrusting, I realized that he could easily sell this footage as premium-grade amateur porn. What had begun as a night watching a movie, had now become one where we were the stars of our own, improvised production. I smiled at the thought of this, while the first of several intense orgasms rocked my newly-altered body, and I cried out his name in ecstasy. The struggle for both romantic companionship and a bigger income would no longer be a problem for either of us, it seemed, as long as I remained his sexy little slut, for good.

Grope-a-Dope Strategy

Dialogue from the balloons--

Panel 1:

Eric: "Carol, why do you have such an odd smile on your face? You look like a woman possessed!"

Eric: "So... care to let me in on your private joke, darling?"

Carol (from out of frame): "HA HA HA!"

Eric: "It must be pretty damn amusing, the way you're acting, and--"

Eric: "-Hold on a moment... I'm *aughh*... I'm suddenly feeling kind of strange..."

Panel 2:

Eric: "W-What's... happening... to me--??"

Eric: "M-My body! It's..."

Panel 3:

Carol: "I spiked both of our drinks with a li'l surprise..."

Carol: "SEX-CHANGE PILLS!"

Carol: "*Giggle*" 

Panel 4:

Eric (female): "EEEEK! Oh my god! Nooooo!!!"

Carol: "Wow! Those pills worked fast, haha!"

Carol: "-Of course, it helped that you gulped down your drink in one shot, as always, while I sipped mine..."


Carol: "I have to say it... you look fucking adorable like this, Eric!"

Carol: "-And so much easier to deal with now, with your muscles and size advantage gone!"

Carol: "Here, check yourself out in this mirror, while I fondle your soft, perky new girly titties!"

Carol: "I bet that none of the guys at work would ever guess it was really you..."

Carol: "...While trying their best to smooth talk you into letting them bang you!"

Carol: "Admit it, "Erica"..."


Carol: "Just between us girls..."

Carol: "This groping is getting you wet, isn't it?"


Carol: "-Just about ready for a nice big cock to slide deep and hard into your tight little virgin twat..."

Carol: "-And you just happen to be in luck, little lady! I can feel my pill taking effect!"

Carol: "Hell yes! I'm growing! Wooo!!!"

Carol: "My clit's becoming a penis!"


Carol: "Your lovin' girlfriend is about to "man up", darlin'!"

Carol: "So you'd better hold onto your bonnet, "Holly Hobby"! A train is about to pull into your station! Heh-heh!"


Panel 5:

Sound effects: "Knead!" ... "Grope!"

Carol (male): "Oops! Looks like my transformation destroyed my outfit!"

Carol (male): "I guess I got too big for my britches, hee-hee!"

Carol (male): "But I don't seem to be too big for you, my dear..."

Carol (male): "-Judging by your response, heh-heh!"


Eric (female): "I... I'm not *uhh* ready for this... I-I *moannn* can't be a girlll..."

Eric (female): "Ohhh, wait... touch me there... Oooooh!"

Eric (female): "It's sooo embarrassing and wrong, but, Ahhh..."

Eric (female): "*Squeal!* Aughnn..."

Carol (male): "That's my good girl!"

Eric (female): "M-Maybe this isn't so bad..."

Carol (male): "See? You're warming up to the situation, already!"

Eric (female): "W-We'll be changing back soon, right? ...RIGHT???"

Carol (male): "Well, babe, here's the thing..."

Carol (male): "Being big and strong and able to penetrate you is too awesome for words..." 

Carol (male): "-And to see you all tiny and femmy and at my sexual mercy is just about the hottest thing ever, baby..."

Carol (male): "So I'm going to flush the remaining pills down the toilet!"

Eric (female): "*Gasp!* Oh no!"

Eric (female): "*Whimper*"

Carol (male): "I'm the man, now..."

Carol (male): "-And you're my subby li'l sissy bitch."

Carol (male): "Deal with it."

Carol (male): "Now I think I'll try to put a baby in you, my pretty princess. Bend over..."

A Heated Exchange

Dialogue from the balloons--

The Girl:

"Oh no! My girlfriend and I got into another of our loud fights..."

"She said I should quit acting like a dick all the time..."

"I told her to stop being such a cunt..."

"The tenant above us got fed up with all the noisy negativity--"

"--and yelled some kind of spell down at us, that reversed our genders!"

"Now I'm the sexy little chick, and Judy is the big stud with the dick!"

"--And she likes it better this way!"

"Forcing me to ride her new cock like a carousel horse!"

"HELP!!"

The Guy:

"Oh, Paul... you're SUCH a fuckin' PUSSY! Ha-ha-ha!""

Clothes (Re)make the Man

The Devil to Pay

 Cruising at 75 mph, winding in-and-out of a scenic mountain pass, in a perfectly-tuned ride that was as agile as a cat on the prowl... this was what freedom felt like... Suddenly, a loss of control, a spin, a slamming of brakes and the sharp "clang" of a breached guardrail, and the car sailed out, into oblivion.

 All at once, Hank Barlow found himself disoriented. Where was he? And why did his body seem so... strange? A patch of black ice on the road, that January afternoon, had ended his joy-ride... sending his muscle car hurtling off a high cliff... that's the last thing he could remember. Thankfully, he never felt the horrible impact of the crash that had sent him into Death's waiting embrace. Now he was standing in some sort of steamy, cavernous void, painted in crimson light and deep shadow. The acrid, rotten-egg smell of sulfur assaulted his nostrils, and he heard the hiss of escaping gas and the soft roar of hidden flames all around him.

"Where am I? What is this place? What's happened to me?"

He could feel that his shoes were gone, as well as his normal clothing, and he was holding something in his hand... the light was still far too dim for him to make it out. A pole of some kind... a broom handle, maybe? Why?

 He seemed to be wearing something that clung to him snugly, softly hugging the contours of his lower body, from his toes up to his mid-waist. Above that point, he was now shirtless, and he sensed something else, possibly a small hat, was resting lightly atop his head. Most troubling of all, he felt as though something was missing from him, and at the same time, that there was a bit more of him than before, somehow. His mind was still in too much of a jumble to figure it out.

 "Where the fuck am I, anyw--" he started to say, and stopped short, as the first of his words echoed in his ears. His voice was far too high, too soft and too breathy to be his own. It was the voice of a winsome young woman... so much like the women that he--...

 Suddenly, a ghostly head, easily three times larger than his own, and crowned with the twin horns of a ram, materialized. It hung in the air near him, translucently, visible in its own faint glow, and began to speak, in tones that seemed to reverberate from everywhere, both within him and around him. "Welcome to Hell, Mr. Barlow. We've been expecting you for quite some time now."

 Stunned, Hank gaped at the disembodied phantom in disbelief, his mouth quivering in a mute stammer.

 Undoubtedly Satan himself, the devilish apparition continued, in reserved, pedantic amusement. "Surprised? Ha-ha-ha... oh yes, Mr. Barlow... despite claims to the contrary from some of the more arrogant and misguided souls back in your former, physical world, I can assure you that Hell is very real indeed. And we have a very special part of our infernal landscape reserved just for the likes of you, sir... that is to say, for brutal serial rapists. Since you had carefully evaded punishment in life, you probably thought that there was no price to pay for your crimes after death. However, that's where you're quite wrong."

 As if to underscore his point, Satan's eyes traveled down Hank's body, and he was compelled to follow their lead, as a few columns of flame suddenly flared up around them, to better illuminate their surroundings. A full-length mirror, ornately-framed in serpentine bars of black wrought-iron, materialized before them, in a burst of fiery smoke. Considering his altered voice, what he now encountered really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, as he gazed both down at himself in the improved light, and at the reflection staring back at him. Nonetheless, the sight made his jaw drop further. It was truly his worst nightmare.

 All he could manage for a vocal response was a soft, whimpering, "N-N-Nooooo...", as tears began to well up in his eyes.

 Satan grinned at him malevolently, and continued to goad him. "Yes, take a nice, long  look at yourself.... it's not quite the familiar form you're used to, is it, Mr. Barlow? A far cry from the imposingly six-foot-five, 250-pound, testosterone-fueled hulk of a man that you... were. A human monster, who has made countless women suffer through your sexual and physical assaults, including driving more than one to suicide, not to mention more than a few murders by your hand --to feed your hatred, and your mania for domination over practically any female you'd meet... especially the young, pretty ones. That's how you desperately maintained your fragile sense of manhood, isn't that right?" His smile drew wider, as his sinister eyes shifted into a mocking leer. "Behold, Mr. Barlow-- now you are such a girl yourself, with your male mind permanently trapped within! You are only five feet tall, outwardly girlish in all aspects, and a virgin.... so soft and weak and deliciously vulnerable!"

 Well-known as the Prince of Lies, Satan's words, in this case, were nevertheless absolutely true for Hank Barlow. The mirror image staring back at him displayed a petite, delicate, fair-skinned girl with a baby-face, looking no older than 21. The snug garment he wore was a pair of crimson tights, with red sequins that both circled the high waistline, and ran in squiggly seams down the outside edge of both legs, from curvy hip to tiny ankle. They weren't much different than pantyhose, highlighting every feminine curve. A fake devil tail of red satin was attached to the back, just above his round, teardrop bottom, and the "hat" was a matching set of faux devil horns. The "broom" he thought he was holding turned out to be a trident, albeit a harmless prop version... like something you'd find at a costume shop. In this grim, literal Hell, to add further insult to injury, he was made to look like a silly little cosplay poser version of a she-devil!

 The horror mounting, Hank looked at himself more closely. His eyes were now the eyes of a doe, larger in proportion to the rest of his face and festooned with black-mascara lashes and thinner, styled brows, which were currently upswept in a display of sweetly-pathetic surprise and worry. His nose was small and cutely turned up, and the pouting, puffy red lips surrounding his pretty little mouth resembled a couple of brilliant rose petals. What had once been a hard, threatening mask of masculine toughness, was now cherubic, vaguely child-like, and lovely... framed by a short, wavy, adorably "retro" hairstyle, replacing his former stark, shaved head. He was now a strawberry blonde.

 Likewise, below the weakened chin, his creamy, hairless body was also exclusively, and unmistakably, feminine. A mild layer of body fat now girlishly softened his entire diminutive frame. No Adam's apple was to be found gracing his slender neck. Round, narrow shoulders led to skinny, muscle-free arms. The nails at the end of his little fingers were longer, manicured, and coated in glossy red polish.

 Full round breasts, larger than Hank's dainty hands could fully cover, hung buoyantly from his scaled-down chest, their large pink nipples pointing perkily upward. His wasp-waist curved inward, before flaring dramatically outward at the hips and ass, then inward again as his shapely thighs gradually tapered down to his knees, and yet again as the rounded curves of his calves tapered into slender ankles and tiny feet. The muscular, washboard stomach he had developed, from countless hours of working out at the gym, was now a smooth "pooch" of a woman's tummy; nearly flat, but completely lacking in definition. Below it, where his cock should normally be, was a simple Y-shaped crease; the small mound of a pussy, flanked by soft inner thighs.

 He was also finding that, more often than not, he held his hands in limp-wristed poses, with his pinkie fingers outstretched. The very way he held his hands up to his face in surprise, resulted in a pose that practically screamed "prissy girl"; his arms pressed up against his chest, wrists touching each other as he cradled his chin in his small palms, while his pigeon-toed legs knocked together at the knees, the weight put on on one leg causing the opposing hip to jut out, noticeably. He also saw that he was standing up on his toes, as if wearing invisible heels.


 So this was his punishment. He wasn't just a woman... he had been reshaped into a cute, helpless little sissy of a girl, like some silly hybrid of Betty Boop and a Gil Elvgren pin-up model from a 1950s service station calendar. A silly little girly stereotype, who would be respected by no one.

 Satan chuckled, and his lips twisted into a sarcastic sneer, as his eyes sparkled with malicious glee, darting over to a space just beyond where Hank was standing. "Now take a look behind you, my dear..."

 Hank could now hear the dull slap of heavy bare feet upon the cavern floor, drawing steadily closer. He turned, and looking up, saw something that made him nearly choke in revulsion and terror. It was the looming figure of what appeared to be a huge man, well over seven feet tall, larger than even Hank had been, before the start of this unnerving, supernatural turn of events. Completely nude, and made of solid muscle, it resembled a sinister figure of Atlas, its bare skin as hellishly red as their subterranean environment, and glistening with sweat. Its eyes were a featureless glow of bright yellow, shining out of fleshy sockets, and the stubby nubs of horns grew from its temples. Most distressing of all, this hyper-masculine being sported a huge, erect penis, easily a foot long and probably a good ten inches in diameter, pointed threateningly at his nice round ass, like an arrow at a target. Hank gasped in abject fear of being violated, getting an inkling of what his own victims must've thought, just before he had violently fucked them.

 "Yes, 'Miss' Barlow, what you fear is going to happen to you next is just what is going to happen. This is one of my demonic minions, and they all come in this impressive size. Over the course of eons, I've been raising an army of them, you see, for the day when we once again rise up and storm the gates of Heaven. Though I have the power to simply materialize them, I think it's much more sporting, and amusing, to breed them... using women, like you, who are among the Damned." 


 The giant demon paused for a moment, to stretch and flex its muscles, like a bodybuilder striking a "circus strongman" pose... clearly done to establish an air of extreme male dominance over its female prey, which was superfluous. At his reduced height and build, Hank felt nearly like a child in its presence...  his head didn't even reach as far up as its chest! With his soft curves and involuntary feminine demeanor --which he internally fought all the way, to no avail-- Hank suffered the most devastating blow possible to his stridently male ego. The behemoth stared down at him and flashed an evil grin, licking its feral teeth with a long, wicked tongue. It grabbed its huge cock in one hand, and began to squeeze and stroke it a little, until a lubricating dribble of oily black pre-cum soon oozed from its tip. Hank wanted nothing more than to flee, but his transformed body defiantly craved a hard fucking, and his cunt became suitably moistened for slick entry.

"Now take a good look behind you, "Miss" Barlow... and see what your eternal fate has in store!"

Satan continued to mock him, compounding the horror yet to come. "This is but the beginning of your torment, 'Miss' Barlow. No peace will ever be yours. Each day, you will find yourself repeating the shock and confusion of suddenly becoming this girl in Hell for the very first time; the exact same emasculating shame and humiliation you're now feeling because of it." He paused for a moment, allowing that to sink in... then added, pointedly, "You won't even be allowed the minor solace of your former memories. You'll remember what you've done, of course, all the crimes and evils you've still actually committed, and that you were a man, but..." he continued, his evil smile growing bigger, "...when you try to picture yourself that way, looking back throughout your Earthly existence, your mind will now paint a dramatically different picture for you. Go ahead, try and see yourself as a big male ruffian again... if you can."

 Hank, bristling at being addressed now as 'Miss', did try... shuffling through the mental scrapbook of his former life, as the giant behind him prepared to mount and rape him. He thought back to his days as a young boy, the biggest and toughest kid in grade school, threatening other children for their lunch money and other acts of bullying. But now, as he recalled every incident of his juvenile cruelty playing out, or simply any male-oriented activity he enjoyed as a boy, he saw himself suddenly shrinking down in front of the people around him... changing into a cutesy, little-girl version of the woman he resembled now. Becoming smaller and weaker than the other kids, even the other girls. He was wearing a frilly little pinafore dress, his hair in pigtail curls tied with pink ribbons, and spoke with a pronounced lisp. Inevitably, he'd be teased, ridiculed, slapped, pushed to the ground and sent running home in tears.

 "Ha-ha! You think you're gonna take my lunch money, 'Hank'? Who do you think you're pushing, you little sissy?"

 "Hey look, you guys! Hank the little fairy got his secret wish! He's a real girl now! Go away and play with your dolls, 'Henrietta', you little pansy! Hahahaha!"

 "Awww... is the baby-girl gonna cry now?"

 "Yeah, run home to your mommy, you little crybaby!"

 He'd see himself doing just that, fleeing in tears to what was now a canopy bed, full of stuffed animals and dolls, jumping onto it and sobbing into a lacy pillow, as some of his tormentors would re-appear, laughing and pointing at him through the window of his girly, pink-themed bedroom.

 His high school memories were now even worse. Triumphs of early manhood became humiliating spectacles of his spontaneous transformation into a cute, petite redhead in front of his friends and classmates. Nerds he mercilessly picked-on suddenly became, relatively speaking, his physical superiors, in a turning-of-tables that also allowed them their first chance to kiss and grope a girl, with no fear of consequences.


 "I knew it! You always wanted to be a girl, didn't you, 'Hank'! Dumb faggot!"

 "Haha! You call that limp little girly slap a 'punch', you silly little bitch? Maybe you shouldn't pick fights with guys, if you don't wanna get hurt!"

 "The silly tranny homo probably just wants to suck our cocks! Maybe we should let her!"

 In team sports, games won were now lost, as he'd become this stereotypically-girlish female at crucial moments, preventing him from throwing properly, catching, or running fast enough. He'd unavoidably be called out of the game for being a girl playing on a boy's team, violating the official rules, as his teammates cursed him and made cat-calls, and the crowd roared with laughter and boos.
  
 "Nice going, 'Hank', we just lost because of you... you stupid little cow! You can 'take one for the team', when we get back to the locker room. Then you can try out for cheerleader, on the sidelines, where prissy little airheads like you belong!"


 Worst of all were his dating memories, which had originally been his first taste of what would become his life-long hobby of rape and assault... and eventually, murder. Now they were a gauntlet of sexual frustration and extreme, emasculating embarrassment. He'd arrive at a girl's front door, or about to make his move in the back seat of a car, his cock hard and eager for action... only to find himself suddenly shorter than her, baby-soft and dick-less. Their reactions were predictably crushing...

 "Is this a joke, 'Hank'? Maybe you should try asking out somebody on the football team... I've heard some of them talking about wanting to fuck you."

 "Do I look like a lesbian to you? Sorry, 'Hank', but I require my all dates to at least look like a boy and have a penis!"

 "Awwww... Why don't you find yourself a nice hot boyfriend, sweetie! You look like you could use one! Hahaha!"

 As an adult, he'd see himself in a back-room poker game with the usual bunch of rough customers sitting in, only to suddenly reduce and soften in front of them, into the sexy little Miss he now was in Hell. He could see his feminized self, dwarfed by his male companions, and now provocatively dressed in a tight, low-cut crop top and mini-skirt, all tits and ass and with no real fight in him; a full invitation for them to bend him over the table, which they were only too happy to accept.

"Well, well, well... looks like we've got a high roller with us tonight, boys... our buddy 'Hank' here has become a prime piece of ass! Who's up for a gang-bang, besides me?

"Oh yeahhh, I'd like to tap that just fine..."


 His many rape attempts would boomerang on him, as his would-be female victims found him shrinking down and matching their gender before he could really do anything to them, with their response being cruel laughter, followed by hair-pulling, bitch-slapping, face-scratching and his having the shit kicked out of him. Some of them would even go so far as to rape him, in revenge, with whatever hand-held penetrating object was handy.

 "What did you think you were gonna do to me, huh, you sick creep? Now that it seems you're a femmy little twat yourself, I think I'll kick your fat ass, you evil fucking bitch!"

 "You were gonna try and rape me, asshole? Ha! That'll be the day, 'Missy'! Maybe this zucchini up that new snatch of yours will teach you a lesson, you stupid little cunt!"

 After the fact, he was well-aware that none of these Earthly gender-morphing events actually happened to him. As he was reliving them, however, they seemed so incredibly real, with his true persona from those times frustratingly inaccessible; just a vague impression that he had stolen from this kid, scored that winning touchdown, pummeled this guy or raped that woman --with an alternate-reality exercise in feminized failure and humiliation taking its place.

"Oh my fucking God, No! No!! I can't take it!! Please make it stop!!" he cried, nearly going insane from this insidious messing with his mind.

Satan blithely tut-tutted his protests. "Now, now... there's no God to save you down here, I'm afraid, 'Miss' Barlow. You are beyond any possible redemption. Raping that order of nuns and dumping their murdered bodies down a mine shaft, --and getting away with it-- alone saw to that." he paused, tilting his ethereal head up a little and arching an eyebrow, adding, with a smirk, "I must say, I applaud your blasphemous initiative, but you must bear in mind that Hell isn't designed to be an alternative Heaven for evil men... or in your present case, evil sluts... it's a place for your eternal damnation and punishment. Speaking of which--"

 Hank heard a few more creeping footsteps behind him, and now felt the unsettling warmth of a body standing mere inches away from his back. The demon! He had been so distracted by the horrors of his false memories, that he momentarily forgot this huge humanoid beast was right there, preparing to fuck him! Hands, twice the size of his, suddenly grabbed hold of him, pawing and groping his hips, ass and breasts. Big stubby thumbs circled his erect nipples, repeatedly brushing and pressing down on them, as the giant roughly kneaded his soft, ample tits. He could feel the hot throb of its huge cock pressing against the crack of his ass, the warm stickiness of the pre-cum seeping through the thin fabric of his tights, smearing both soft cheeks of his alarmingly-expansive bottom. It made his flesh crawl, and he felt nauseous. As violently opposed to this as his mind was, he found his body yielding, his pussy getting wetter and wetter. Another of Satan's evil tricks! He's made this female body independently, heterosexually willing!

Hank let out a frightened gasp, quickly trying to cover his crotch, as he felt the demon's wandering hands suddenly grab hold of his hips and rip the flimsy tights effortlessly from his tiny body. The faux trident clattered uselessly to the floor. His delectable, peaches-and-cream body was now as completely naked as his unearthly rapist, who continued to fondle him all over. One large hand slithered in-between his thighs from behind, and plunged a probing index finger into his tight new twat, feeling around inside. It was as long and thick as a normal-sized, erect penis, brushing harshly against Hank's little clit and immediately popping his cherry. Hank let out shrill, woman's scream.

 While there are some out there, male and female alike, who might've found this rough sexual treatment thrilling... to Hank, it was all a waking nightmare. His body was extremely aroused, but his mind and sense of self-identity were like the opposing pole of a magnet. He desperately wanted any kind of escape or relief from this torment, but there was none to be had; all routes of flight were blocked. His messed-up memory bank was a horrifyingly-equal domain of extreme suffering.

 Just then, the demon's hands clamped tightly around his slight waist, encircling it fully, and hoisted him up off the ground, as easily as someone might lift a pet cat. Hank hadn't been picked up by anyone since he was much more than a toddler, and the emasculating feeling that it inspired in him now was a new, devastating low. It was about to get much worse. Hank's shapely, ladylike legs wiggled and kicked helplessly at the air, finding no targets, and promising no real defensive force if they had. And then he was brought down --literally impaled in mid-air on the demon's monstrous cock. Hank's ears were filled with the piercing sound of his own blood-curdling soprano screams.

 In the midst of his shock, Hank's pussy surprised him with its ability to stretch and accommodate something so big, but it was cold comfort, as he still felt like he was going to be split in two. He grimaced, and thought he was going to be sick, when he discovered that he could feel the beast's pulse beating inside him, from its throbbing dick through the slick walls of his pussy. The humiliation of being fully-fucked as a woman, taking the entirety of a hot, pulsating penis up his vagina and deeply into him, to the extreme of feeling its tip bump forcefully up against the back wall of his womb, was a level of shame pushed beyond all limits. His feet weren't even touching the ground. The demon was large and powerful enough, and Hank's female form was small enough, that the demon didn't need to brace Hank against anything. It could simply fuck him while holding him in the air, with the ease of an average man humping a fleshlight.

 Now the lifting and thrusting grew increasingly harder and more vigorous. Hank felt like he was a flailing rag-doll with a bomb sewn-up inside, about to explode. The air was thick with his high-pitched cries and moans. Blasts of demon breath were blowing hotly onto his neck and shoulders and he could feel large drops of sweat fall from its upper body and dot his back like the start of rain. The behemoth grunted, and Hank could feel a tremor run through the driving penis inside him. He knew just what it was, from when he used to be the one doing the fucking. A massive orgasm spread through Hank's feminine body, but in his current mental state, it was as welcome and enjoyable as the fall of a guillotine's blade. His soul died as he felt the hot, wet explosion of sticky jism fill his cavity. As with everything else with this beast, it was so much more... enough evil black seed to fill a large soup bowl. It burned in his womb like acid, and most of it leaked out of his snatch and ran down the gentle curves of his legs. Hank cried like a baby.

 With a deep guttural sigh, the giant demon finally pulled Hank off its softening member and dropped him, sobbing, to the floor... like a discarded toy, whose novelty had just worn off. Then it slowly walked away, into the shadows of the smoldering cavern's long corridor. Satan's head, still observing, let out a hearty laugh. "So, 'Miss' Barlow, that was your first. How did you like it, hmm? Perhaps as much as all of those women you yourself had so violently raped?"

 After spending a few moments crumpled-up in grief and exhaustion on the cavern floor, Hank rose weakly to his hands and knees, trembling. He could only glare at the Prince of Darkness with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lower lip, like an angry, disgraced child who'd just endured a harsh spanking. But then he fell violently ill, vomiting up a mass of bile.

 "Oh, messy, messy, "Miss' Barlow. That's no way for a proper young lady to behave... unless, of course, she's... not been careful." said Satan, feigning concern, and adding a little sting on the end for his captive to decipher.


 Hank immediately caught on, and covered his mouth to hold back another scream, his horror freshly renewed. It was at that moment that his belly began to swell. He stood up, his little hands clutched at his stomach, as it rapidly ballooned outward, gaining weight and heft in seconds, increasingly putting strain on his lower back. His navel inverted from the building pressure, becoming an "outie", looking like a displaced third nipple. As for his actual nipples, 'mother's milk' began to ooze from them, dribbling down his already-buxom breasts, which had just increased another cup-size. Accelerated pregnancy! Hank could already feel a small, second heartbeat thumping down deep in there, and several slight kicks, which started to hurt. Within moments, he'd come to full term.

 Before he could fully react, his water broke. Hank fell back to his knees, in agony from contractions that were building, occurring closer and closer together. He tumbled further onto his back, laying there on the cavern floor, in discomfort, his legs bent and splayed apart. Craning his neck forward, he tried to see past his bulging, pregnant belly, but it was no use. Pain, like he had never experienced before, suddenly shot through his body, as he was involuntarily forced to push his demon offspring out. He could feel the head emerging slowly from his dilated cunt, and the sensation of two little hands creeping through and taking hold of his labial lips from the inside, in a leveraged effort to crawl out of him as he pushed. And it hurt; oh God, did it hurt, with steadily-increasing intensity. The thing was already larger than an average, human newborn --that, he could tell, as its head was already visible now, beyond the horizon of his distended tummy. The demon baby wasn't just crawling out of him, it was growing out. The pain, already horrible, went off the charts. Hank cried and wailed like he was about to die in the most excruciating way possible, as if that was even an option anymore.

 Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the creature fully emerged, at last. Hank's belly subsided, along with most of the pain, apart from some sharp, residual spasms from his vagina. It looked like a miniature version of its abominable father, only squatter, and with a larger head in proportion to its body --crimson skin, nubs of two horns, and eyes that were a yellow, featureless glow. It was the size of a human three-year-old, and Hank could see it continue to grow, both in height and build, before his disbelieving eyes. Within moments, it was nearly four feet tall, and it suddenly grabbed him and began to greedily suckle from his swollen, milk-heavy breasts. It was revolting and painful; sharp teeth pricking his sensitive titties, lips like wet liver and a hot, probing tongue, constantly attacking his nipples in a search for more milk, with some of his blood mixed in, for flavor.

 By the time it was completely sated, the spawn was Hank's size, then grew a bit larger, already physically dominant over its mother, and still growing rapidly. It took the opportunity to french kiss Hank, and grab his ass, as almost a way of saying, 'See you later... when I'll fuck you like Daddy did". Now it was six feet tall, with a large red dick swinging between its legs. It broke contact and trudged off in the direction its father had gone.

 Satan laughed malevolently, and offered withering praise... as well as a charted course for Hank's destiny. "Oh, good job, 'Miss' Barlow! You make an excellent mother... which is fortunate, because you have just experienced, in total, how your existence will play out here, from now on. That is to say, 'Miss' Barlow, that your eternal turmoil will be this cycle of acting as a sexual plaything and breed sow for Satan's Army. You will be constantly servicing and giving accelerated birth to endless demons, just as with those two. Most whom you deliver will eventually return, in due time, to impregnate you, themselves. And, as you might've guessed, your first demonic child has already implied this, with his lascivious behavior toward you, a moment ago."

 Further reiterating the horrifying terms of Hank's damnation, the Infernal One continued, smiling the frozen, insincere smile of a bored tour-guide on autopilot. "You should be aware that there are no actual days or nights in Hell, and certainly no rest... however... for you, 'Miss' Barlow, every twenty-four hours, it will be as I've stated previously: you will think that you've arrived here for the very first time, transformed into this virgin female, minus my direct presence. You won't know how or why you've become a small, sexy woman, but it will eventually become clear to you, over the course of each 'day'. Then you will reset back to square one again, reliving all this, throughout endless eternity." He then assumed a more poker-faced expression, and then tilted his floating head forward, as if to tip an invisible hat at the broken, self-loathing and thoroughly doomed young woman standing weakly before him. "Now, I must take my leave. I doubt we'll be having much further direct communication for quite some time. Anyway, you'll have much to occupy your time here. 'Enjoy' your fate, 'Miss' Barlow, and I bid you a fond adieu."

"No, Wait! Please!!" Hank cried out, ineffectually, to already-deaf ears.

 With that, the ghostly visage of the foremost fallen angel disappeared, in a fiery puff, leaving Hank alone to his feminized, shame-ridden misery. But only for the briefest of moments... as he once more heard the dull, beefy slap of huge feet on the cavern floor, advancing toward him, out of the darkness, with brutish, carnal intent. Its huge, erect cock emerged menacingly into the light, seeking its quarry, and Hank's mind cried out into the dark void...