The first sensation to return to Chris was a slow, deep throb in the back of his neck. Each breath hurt, but the pain was neither sharp
nor overwhelming. His neck also had a full range of motion, which in a semi-conscious way he recognized as he rotated it in a circle.
In his dizzied state, he was still certain somebody had knocked him unconscious.
The second sensation to come to Chris's attention was the ache in his crotch. In his muddled state, he couldn't pinpoint where the
feeling originated from, but it was most intense around his testicles and the flesh immediately beneath them. They clung tightly to
his body, as they tended to do when it was extremely cold or when he was about to cum--but this sensation was neither frigid nor
orgasmic. He was mildly aroused by it, as he was mildly aroused by most sensations down there, but aside from that, it was just
uncomfortably tense.
His vision returned slowly, first as a blur of dark browns and whites, then as an ever-clarifying image: his wrists handcuffed to the leg
of a grand piano. He struggled to remember how this happened, but his last clear memory was of delivering a package to a mansion
in Westlake Hills. There were snippets of him carrying it inside, winding through an expanse of foyers and halls. But what led to this,
he couldn't recall.
The tightness in his crotch was getting unbearable. His testicles dimpled the flesh beneath them, pushing harder every second. A
peculiar tingle spread through the area, as though he had somehow poured champange directly into his flesh. Just when the tension
couldn't grow any worse, he felt an unfamiliar pop--like a hardboiled egg being pushed through Jell-O. Moments later, his testicle
was worming its way through his gut. He felt the other one slide inside, tugged by muscles he never knew he had. They pulled it
hungrily inside of him, and he was reminded of the catharsis of a good shit, only this was intense enough to momentarily and
orgasmicly shatter his thoughts.
He turned his head to see what the hell was happening to him and was shocked to see himself dressed in a maid's uniform. It was all
black, with white lace around the hem of the neck and sleeves. The skirt was short and ruffled, its many layers of lace puffing out like
a hen's tail. Beyond it, he saw two richly dressed men staring at his ass.
"What's happening to me?" he cried out. They ignored him, not even flinching at his outburst. Instead, the younger one nudged the
older--a trim gentleman with fine, grey hair--and commented about something quietly. Chris couldn't hear a single word, and
growled at them. "Answer me, dammit! What are you doing to me?" They continued ignoring him, and Chris's neck--already sore
from god knows what--began to cramp. He turned back to face the piano leg, pulling fiercely at his handcuffs. The piano slid a little,
but to no avail.
Deep in his gut, he felt his testicles nestling against his hips. They sparkled with the feeling of champagne, and the sensation oddly
aroused him. His penis twitched wildly inside his silk lingerie, and that feeling aroused him, too. Reflexively, he ground his hips into
the bear rug beneath him to get some friction. Almost immediately, a heavy load shot up his cock. He expected a big mess, and
surely enough he was rewarded with a powerful orgasm that forced him to catch his breath. But that was it. Not a single drop of
cum.
His penis continued to twitch like he was ejaculating, but instead of erupting, it began to shrink. He wasn't sure what was happening,
but with mounting horror he realized that his once proud seven inches of cock was diminishing to a plump thumb. The whole length
of it was growing smooth and sensitive, and as it retracted along his silk lingerie he shuddered with uncontrollable pleasure. With
disgust, he noticed that it was now the size of a mini-wiener, something you'd buy in a can, and in the next moment, it had retracted
almost completely into his crotch. Only a tiny nub remaining erect on the surface.
As it settled into place, he cursed wildly--fully aware now that his body was being remodeled to fit this damn uniform. His scrotum
shifted restlessly and folded into thick labia lips. Somewhere deep inside him, a urinary tract slid out of it moorings and burrowed a
new hole into his vulva. His cheeks burned with rage and shame. In the midst of that, a mounting tension in his lower back forced
him to wiggle his hips. After a moment's effort, they popped soothingly, and his testicles--now deep inside him--shifted. The
champagne feeling was fading, and it dawned on him that in the most vital ways, he was now fully a woman.
The tension in his back returned, and he popped his hips again and again. It occurred to him that each time he did this, his skirt got a
little tighter. In spite of the pain, he bent his neck to watch and saw that his hips were growing at an astonishing rate. He resisted the
urge to pop them for several seconds, then the feeling became unbearable and--assuring himself that this was the last time--he
stretched his hips again. The relief was extraordinary, yet after holding back so long the effects were especially strong and he felt his
hips spreading across the floor.
At the same time, the muscles in his ass were melting like butter and expanding into layers of fat. The feeling was almost soothing,
which horrified him the most. He tried resisting it by flexing his glutes, but the sensation kneaded its way into his muscles until he
relaxed into his transformation again. Behind him, his skirt rapidly bubbled up and he heard the older gentleman comment, "Well, at
least she has a cute butt."
The younger man shook his head. "Oh, this is only the beginning."
And surely enough, it was. Chris had been an avid cyclist, and there was a lot of muscle to transform to fat. His ass was growing at an
embarrassing rate, and as it grew, it pushed the hard ruffles of his skirt up. He could feel the air on it and realized that the two men
were staring straight up his skirt with lustful fascination. He tried shifting his position so they could no longer see, but his body was
unfamiliar to him now and he couldn't coordinate its movements.
He realized suddenly that he was popping his hips again, which had already spread to womanly proportions. His ovaries nestled deep
inside, where they began producing eggs and preparing him for his new sexual role. The idea infuriated him, and he tugged fruitlessly
on his handcuffs. Deep inside his ass, he felt the final layers of muscle melting into fat, giving him such a bountiful behind that it
peeked just beneath the hem of his skirt. One of the men whistled appreciatively.
While he had been focusing on the embarrassing changes in his ass, Chris failed to notice how his thighs underwent the same
transformation. Once, they had been hard as steel from regular cycling adventures. Now, they were softening and growing thick.
When he moved them, fat swayed gently like trees in a breeze. Strangest of all, they were so thick that they rubbed against each
other, even when he wasn't trying to squeeze them together. With some effort, he managed to lift one leg and examine it. It was as
shapely and feminine as his hips and ass, and his very male brain wanted to fuck the woman they belonged to.
That thought made him queasy. The men behind him were talking quietly to each other, and he could tell they were pleased. That
thought just upset him more. The last thing he wanted was to please those assholes. "Unlock me!" he yelled to them, fully aware that
his plea was useless.
The sickness is his stomach was becoming a tightness in his waist. His belly had always been flat and at one point he even had a six
pack. Now, he felt the few pockets of flesh there fleeing up his torso. He didn't have to turn his head to know he now had a waspish
waist. It was already tiny, and next to his ripe ass he was certain middle school boy would drool. Odds are, he would have drooled
to. He was thankful there were no mirrors within eyeshot. He would have been freakish anyway, with his voluptuous bottom and
manly top.
Even that wouldn't last long, though. He felt the transformation making its way up his torso, softening his skin and smoothing away
hairs. With anxious anticipation he felt the wave wash over his nipples. In dread, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked
down at his chest. Like the rest of his uniform, the bodice was black with white lace trimming. It was low-cut to expose cleavage that
wasn't there yet, and beneath it was a silky piece of lingerie. Both were designed for generously endowed women.
His nipples were rock hard now, and the hair around them had fallen out and lay beneath him like a swarm of dead flies. The skin on
his chest had grown smooth and feminine when the transformation washed over his torso. Beneath his skin, he felt his ribs cracking
and shrinking, a powerful and invisible force squeezing him into a new, delicate shape. In moments, his chest had become girlishly
thin. The sight of it made him feel incredibly vulnerable.
Meanwhile, slight bumps developed beneath his nipples. They were hard as marbles and throbbed tenderly as he breathed. In an
effort to stop their growth, he flexed his waning pecks. It did nothing to help. Instead, his pecks slowly dissolved and the hard
marbles tripled in size. At first, they clung tightly to his chest and even seemed like muscle. Yet as they drew in more of his real
muscle, something about them became distinctly buxom. They hung from his chest like plumb-sized utters, their nipples as big as
silver dollars. With horror, the reality of his situation dawned on him: he was blossoming.
His shoulders began to cave in the same way his chest had, and he felt the excess flesh moving into his breasts to fuel the
metamorphosis. His arms were getting weak, too, and his biceps shook from the effort of holding himself up. He glanced at them,
now as thin as a girl's, their definition faded beneath a soft layer of fat. In another moment, he collapsed to the ground, his face
planted in the bear rug, his arms still outstretched and latched to the piano leg.
Beneath him, he felt his bosom filling. At first it was small enough to flatten beneath his weight, but as his breasts developed, they
began to lift him up. At the same time, his nipples rubbed against the silk of his lingerie, and in spite of himself he felt warmth flood
his vagina. He didn't want to be aroused by his growing breasts, but their tenderness slowly transformed into a sensual throb.
Reflexively, he ground his chest into the rug and as the feeling grew, he could barely contain a moan.
With great effort, he propped himself back up by his elbows. His arms quivered, and his breasts hung heavily beneath him like two
ripe grapefruit. He hoped the transformation was over, but felt more blood and fat worming through his arteries to fill them. Unsure
if he really wanted to confront what was happening to him, he gazed down at his cleavage anyway. His two breasts hung there, more
generous and heavy than he had feared--yet if his bodice was any indication, they still had room to grow. With every breath, their
soft flesh rose and fell. Half-aroused but mostly disgusted, he collapsed back to the rug. Within moment he was grinding his breasts
into the rug again and moaning quietly.
All the while, he continued to struggle against his handcuffs, and to his sudden surprise, his hands were able to squeeze through. He
pulled them down and looked in wonder at the damage. His fingers had grown long and delicate, his palms as tiny as a girl's. While
he stared, his fingernails extended like well-polished claws.
With some effort, he managed to sit up and lean against the piano leg. Any attempt to run away was out of the question, his body still
largely out of his control. The men across from him watched him admiringly, and the older of the two stared wolfishly at his
cleavage. Chris turned his own gaze down to those generous mammaries, and was struck by the memory of his high school
girlfriend. She'd had C-cup breasts, and these were easily larger. He folded his hands over the cleavage to shield it from the men's
eyes, and beneath his palms they felt firm and warm.
The metamorphosis continued up his neck, briefly squeezing his throat, then spread frightfully across his face. His jaw cracked
several times as it shrunk to a suitable feminine size. His lips puffed up, and inside his mouth his teeth and tongue shrank so that
from then on, he would only be able to take dainty bites. At the same time, he felt his nose thin and turn up at the tip, while his eye-
lashes grew and tickled the skin around them. With great effort, he pulled himself up and leaned against the piano. Although he
swayed a little, he was getting used to his new body. The younger man nudged his companion and commented, "The best is about to
come."
Not far away, he saw a mirror hanging at eye level. Using his hands to hold himself up, he inched along the wall. All the while, he felt
his crew cut sprouting across his head. When he got to the mirror, he gasped with a porn-stars sultry voice. His blonde hair had
turned jet black and fallen with stylish curls across his face. His lips were lush and pouty, and his eyes had become brown and round
as a frightened doe's. He turned his gaze down at his generous cleavage which rose and fell with every breath like a living animal.
Beneath them, his thighs shot out from his skirt with such a rounded voluptuousness that he felt his crotch grow warm.
He turned his gaze back to the reflection, which had only grown more helplessly feminine in the seconds he'd looked away. He stared
disgustedly at it, but in the next moment his gaze shifted to a messy pile of papers. He saw it clearly in the reflection, and it annoyed
him in a visceral way messes never had before. A part of him wanted to focus on his metamorphosis, but as absurd as it seemed, he
had to straighten those papers before he could concentrate again.
He turned around and walked over to the desk, casting a hateful glance at the two men as he passed by. His body was still unfamiliar,
but he was getting used to it. Behind him, his ass swung like a giant pendulum. This realization filled him with a mixture of disgust
and pride.
The papers were easily straightened, but as he corrected them he noticed a thin layer of dust along the rim of the desk. He scanned
the room, looking for a rag to clean it with, and was delighted to see an actual feather duster. Walking with his newly developed sway,
he retrieved it and promptly started sweeping. To reach one far-away spot, he had to lean over the desk. Out of the corner of his eye
he saw the men peering up his skirt again, and instinctively he tilted his ass to give them a better look. When he realized what he was
doing, he quickly stood up and turned to face them. "Don't you know it's impolite to stare at a lady!" he shouted, suddenly concerned
that he had refered to himself as a lady. He started to correct himself, but the older man said in a smooth, polished voice,
"You seemed to enjoy it well enough."
He blushed in fury and confusion, and didn't know how to respond. Instead, his focus shifted to a beam over their heads which was
covered in cobwebs. Looking up, several corners of the ceiling needed dusting, too, so he scooted a chair over and climbed up for a
better reach. Beneath him, he knew the men continued to stare at his exposed ass, but the indignity slowly melted away as a growing
warmth spread through her crotch.
As she passed by the men to walk to the next corner, she couldn't resist eyeing their figures. She hadn't noticed before how well built
the younger one was, his chest a broad triangle over his narrow hips. The older was handsome and refined, his grey hair neatly
combed and his eyes twinkling as they followed her figure. She didn't completely want to act upon these feelings, but as she passed
the older gentleman, she let her fingers graze his waist. In spite of his age, it was remarkably trim.
Between her legs, the warmth was developing into a powerful craving. Following an instinct she didn't entirely understand, she put
the chair back where it belonged and journeyed over to the bed to straighten the covers. She let her hips swing in a wide, alluring arc
as she approached the bed. It didn't really need much straightening, and a part of her was upset she was ignoring more pressing
duties. But as she leaned across it to tuck in the other side, she cast a look back at the grey haired gentleman. Their gazes locked for
a long moment, and impulsively she arched her back--beckoning him with a clear view of her ass.
Just as she was finishing the corner, she felt a hand take hold the side of her hip. Behind her, the grey haired man grunted
approvingly as he squeezed her flesh, and she felt a flutter of pride in her chest. When his hand slowly stroked the side of her
rounded thigh, she wanting desperately for it to move across her whole body, to worship every square inch of her ripe flesh. He
seemed pleased, for sure, but instead went straight for the warmth of her crotch. Without even realizing it, she was panting lightly
and the tops of her breasts rolled in and out of her bodice. Leaning for a better look, he smiled at that, too.
In another moment, he was unbuttoning the crotch of her lingerie. She lifted her hips like a cat in heat, giving him clear access. He
quickly obliged, and his rock hard shaft slid into her like a knife through warm butter. Overwhelmed, she gasped with pleasure. His
penis filled the dark folds of her new sex, and she felt her vagina tightening around it like a python consuming a mouse. With sudden
certainty, she knew this was what she wanted more than anything else.
The next several minutes were a blur of sensations. Heat flooded her body, every square inch was infinitely sensitive. She felt his
firm grip on her hips like hands on a wide steering wheel and thrilled as the silk of her lingerie rubbing against her erect nipples and
her full breasts ground into the mattress. Meanwhile, her vagina contracted and dilated with a mind of its own, shocking her with
untold pleasures. She tried to say how good this felt, but everything came out as a helpless, lustful moan. Instead, she submitted as
he fucked her. She eagerly accepted him as he ground his crotch beneath her heavy ass, pushing his penis ever further into her cunt.
She couldn't help but moan stupidly. Every centimeter was another gasp of ecstasy, every grind another orgasm.
Suddenly, she felt him cum. His body quivered and he pushed himself further into her. Deep inside her, she felt unfamiliar muscles
spasm, wracking her mind with incomprehensible pleasure. Girlish cries of delight erupted from her as her uterus lapped up his
seed. He ground into her several more times, and then she collapsed, exhausted, on the bed.
A few moments later, she felt him pull out of her cunt, button up her crotch, and pat her on the ass. "What a good girl she's become,"
he commented with his deep, kind voice. A great warmth spread through her body, until she felt like she was melting into the
mattress. Her lips spread in a broad, contented smile. When she finally got up again, both the men were gone. Dreamily, she noticed
some dust on the mantle piece, and straightening her uniform, she went to clean it.