By FoxFaceStories
A Commission for Slayerangel
Andre, Miguel, and Nicholas are three friends with a choice: either go to prison for their numerous street crimes, or undertake a form of community service at St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls. The young men take the offer, thinking it will just be a brief embarrassment. But soon they discover that they are being transformed into beautiful women with personalities more befitting a productive society!
Part 5: Electives and Opportunities
It had been nearly five weeks at St. Elizabeth’s, and the three young men were now looking exactly like the androgynous, perhaps even feminine, men they had previously mocked. Their minds railed against these changes, but the brainwashing of the VR experience prevented them from fully realising the extent of their transformation or how truly wrong it was. There was also another variable that was making it hard to push back against their descent into true feminisation, and it was perhaps the most insidious component of all.
The attractive women, of course.
Bree had been leading Nicholas on for a good while now. The hot, busty blonde giggled and smiled in his presence, often posing in quite sexy ways, and when Nick had been daring enough to pat her on the ass when she had to leave class, she simply giggled even louder, her cheeks rosy and flushed, a mix of embarrassed and aroused.
“I’m going to, like, fuck the living daylights out of her,” he bragged to his friends, still fondling his growing chest, which now resembled what they increasingly were; a pair of actual breasts. “Just you wait. You think you’re the ladies man of the group, Miguel? Just wait till you, like, catch her screams across the wings. And trust me, she’s totes gonna be soooooo screaming, if you catch, you know, my drift.”
Miguel frowned at his friend’s words. Not only was Nicholas’ voice lighter and his appearance more feminine, but his speech was odd. Bubbly, in fact. Perhaps almost bimboish, had he been a woman.
“Hermana,” he said, without even realising he’d used the word for ‘sister’ instead of ‘brother.’ “Why are you talking like that?”
“Like, like what?”
“Like that? Using ‘like’ all the time. And ‘totes.’”
“I’m not!”
“It’s true,” Andre said, adjusting his shirt, which was struggling against the growing pair of breasts he so clearly possessed. “Damn this fucking shirt, man. I swear, my pecs look more like tits now.”
“Same, it’s the water,” Miguel said. “They don’t feel all bad, though. I mean, my skin feels wonderful lately.”
“Whatever,” Andre said. “Speak for yourself. I’m way more affected here. I swear this place has something in the water; I sound like a chick sometimes.”
“At least you’re not talking like a bimbo, like our hermana here.”
“Fuck off,” Nicholas said. “Seriously, like, don’t say that again unless you want to be shivved, man. I’ve done it before, you totes best believe it. In fact, I might show Bree that shiv unless she starts, like, putting out soon! I’m totes getting laid with her, just you wait!”
He took off from the campus green, his hips swaying more than usual, his red hair now falling down to his shoulders almost. Like the others, he had practically no body hair left, and he possessed a figure that was looked like a fine hourglass.
“I’ll, like, fucking show them!” he declared. “They’re just jealous because I’m, like, dancing so well. They should see me on the cheer squad. All those pussies are dripping for me and stuff. Bree’s especially. We’re gonna fuck tonight. I know we are.”
But during their dance class, Bree showed far more interest in playing dress up with Nick. She insisted that he wear a skirt and crop top like ‘the rest of the girls’ and do more of the female parts.
“You can do the jumps,” she said. “I know you can!”
“Like, no way! I’ll fucking kill someone if they, like, make me do that! I’m not a girl!”
At this, Bree smirked, clearly amused by something that Nicholas’ brainwashed brain quite literally was incapable of putting together. “Sure, you aren’t. Maybe tonight you’ll show me how much of a man you are, tough guy. I know you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Nick grinned. He’d always stolen some restraints. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to please her and hurt her.
“I’m all ready for that, like, I really am,” he giggled.
She pressed herself up against him, her chest against his. It made his nipples throb, and it felt lovely enough to cause another giggle. God, he was so fucking aroused lately, even more than usual.
“Then prove you’re worthy,” she teased. “Put on the cheerleader costume. Come dance with me.”
Nick was too damn horny to stop himself. The promise of sex after all this time was too much to resist, especially if it meant beating out chauvinist ladies man Miguel and big tough Andre. So he put on the lovely green crop top that bared his perfect midriff, and the skirt that showed off his equally lovely thighs, and then tied his bright red hair back with Bree’s help. The routine started, and to his own amazement, he knew how to perform all the moves to perfection. It was like they had been programmed into him, and unbeknownst to the soon-to-be-woman, they really had. He was launched into the air. He somersaulted. He sang in a higher-than-usual voice, and bounced on his feet. His breasts jostled, now nearly B-cups in size and large enough just to make a clear jiggle, and even that felt freeing and joyful, if a little humiliating.
“This is, like, amazing!” he declared. “I’m seriously the best at this!”
Bree smiled, hands on her hips as she inspected Nick in the aftermath. “That you are. Accelerates things too, just like Headmistress said.
“Accele-what?” Nick asked. He knew he understood that word, and yet in that moment he just . . . didn’t. His brain tried to figure out what it meant, but failed.
“It’s not important,” Bree said. She took his hand. “Why don’t you go shower, and then we can have some fun back at my dorm?”
Nick grinned. He was very, very keen for that.
***
Andre was starting to have similar levels of success with Aura. She had taken the beauty class with him, as well as entertainment and music elective. The teacher was a very strict woman, Professor Tatiana. She had an Eastern European accent and gorgeous Slavic lips, the kind Andre would have loved a blowjob from. But despite her beauty and the fact that she was only in her thirties to look at her, she carried herself like a demanding old maid, slapping the girls and even Andre on their asses when they made mistakes.
“Try again! Your lips should be perfect! Choose the right makeup!”
Andre had no idea why he was going along with this. He wasn’t one for wearing makeup. He loved chicks who wore heavy makeup, of course. As a self-described ‘Bitcoin Bro,’ he fantasised about having his own private jet with lovely supermodels on it, each lining up to please him, all while he fucked over his opponents and rivals by shorting their stocks and destroying their market shares. But now . . . he found himself intrigued. Professor Tatiana was ruthless in her determination that each student should have their own style, and it made him wonder what his was. Colour was crucial, as was genre, if he was going to combine it with his music and singing lessons. It was Aura who helped him there.
“You would look so fucking hot with a big loose afro,” she said. “We could colour it electric blue on one side, hot pink on the other. You could wear the same for an outfit, if you were to ever perform. I’m thinking thigh-high boots - one pink, one blue - and gloves that go up your arms with the same. We’re talking real vibrant and colourful, a hip-hop rapper with a real techno-hologram vibe to her, y’know? A slim black outfit with a long zipper at the front, pulled down just enough to show off that chest of yours. What do you say to that, big gal?”
Andre gulped. He had been about to protest over Aura’s comments, but something about her words sparked interest in him. He could look so beautiful, so hot like that. His chest was still growing, and it humiliated him, but what if he looked even lovelier with it? He took a can of Pop Fizz and started to drink it. He was so damn addicted to the stuff, even more than checking his investments, not that he could do that right now.
“Wait, wait,” he said, voice cracking, sounding smoother than usual. “I thought you were warning me about some shit a few weeks back? The girls snapped at you.”
“Oh, that,” Aura said, eyes a little wide. “That was just a . . . misunderstanding. I had a meeting with the Headmistress and it all got cleared up. I’m one-hundred percent on board with your progress now.”
“Progress? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your transformation into an epic star, man! Look at me, I’m on that way, and I can’t fight it. I know you can’t. You’re changing faster than your friends. Don’t you want to beat them to the finish line? Become a great singer?”
He did. Dear God, he did. But . . .
“Wait, I can’t sing. I mean, I love me some hip-hop and rap, but-”
“But nothing, you got a beautiful voice. You gotta unleash it. Maybe if you do . . . I’ll show you something some night.”
That was enough to get him going. He continued to develop his style, just as Aura had encouraged him too, but the real big change - apart from the obvious and quite bouncy C-cups now pushing out from his dark chest - was his vocal performance later that day. Aura supplied him with a rap and hip-hop mix that she’d written herself, then thrust it right in his face and handed him the mic while the music played. They were in a personal recording booth, and Andre was nervous.
But then the song flowed right out of him. Every lyric leapt from his tongue, each rhyme and rhythm and verse spat out at rapid speed, sexy and taunting and smug and proud, bragging about being ‘the ultimate girl.’ The irony of the lyrics failed to reach him.
He was too busy wanting to be the woman Aura saw in him. Woman? No, that made sense. But perhaps the name Amira could work for him. It would be a nice stage name, wouldn’t it?
Besides, there was a lot of money in performing. Perhaps even more than crypto. Hell, he was a lot calmer the more he leaned into these feelings. He didn’t even feel his mean streak surfacing at all, lately, and especially not when Aura took his hand later.
“Why don’t you and I find a space to be?” she cooed.
***
Miguel winced as he adjusted his shirt during home economics. It would need correction, yet again. His chest was so bloated lately, almost like he had tits! The fact that his nipples were huge now, with wide motherly areolas, was even more annoying! And yet . . . they did look quite attractive, and the girls in the class were constantly complimenting him, especially Gabriella, the brunette who’d approached him in the cafeteria weeks ago now. She was his cooking partner, and while they had different backgrounds, they were both latina - latino! He was latino! He had to remind himself of that - and so they compared their backgrounds, Mexican and Brazilian, quite often, as well as their recipes in their shared cooking class, noting similarities and differences.
Professor Walker was a very motherly-looking woman, particularly since she was visibly quite pregnant. She was all about how a ‘traditional wife’ should be, and encouraged the girls in the class, and the effeminate men, very sweetly.
“You’re all doing so well! You’ll make fine wives and mothers one day! Remember to take care of your future husbands. Know how to help darn his socks and keep the house clean, and what to wear to make him feel appreciated. Oh, and don’t forget my lessons from our cooking class this morning as well; the keenest way to a man’s heart is through . . ?”
“His stomach!” the students erupted as one, including Miguel, who found himself oddly excited by this knowledge. He adjusted his posterior on his seat a little, trying to find a more comfortable position, or perhaps just a more familiar one. His butt was a lot larger now, to the point where some new boys that arrived had whistled at him, which had nearly escalated to a fight before Katie reminded him to be a ‘proper St. Elizabeth student.’ It had surprisingly worked, which was odd to Miguel, since being compared to a woman was about the worst insult possible to the rather misogynistic wooer of women. Now, however, he found himself smiling as he rested back, pushing his black curly hair behind his ears and enjoying the sensation of it against his upper back. The act caused his chest to wobble, reminding him that he really needed some support there, perhaps a compression wrap of some sort. He was looking nearly as busty as Andre was recently; clearly they were overeating or something, and it made him feel a little self-conscious.
Of course, that self-consciousness only increased as he walked the campus green to see his friends, only to spy them chatting to the very attractive women in their presence. Nick had his arm around Bree’s waist, while Andre was chatting up Aura, who was biting her lip in a telltale image of arousal.
“Hola!” he announced, voice lighter and now more heavily accented as well. “What are you doing, my hermanas? Weren’t we on for lunch? I made this amazing dish with Katie today and-”
“Like, sorry Miguel,” Nicholas said, planting a daintier hand on his impressive hip and cocking it to one side. “But Bree and I are, like, gonna spend some time together at the dorm for some totes hot fun.”
Andre frowned a little at his friend’s new way of speech, but otherwise said nothing. He now clearly had a more female figure himself, one with thicker curves befitting his African-American heritage, including an ass that was looking quite divine, and a bust that was getting more prominent each day. Not that the brainwashing truly let him appreciate what was happening, so instead he simply rested his hand on Aura’s backside instead.
“Same here, man. Got some sweet music with my muse here to make, if you know what I’m saying, ha!”
Miguel smiled awkwardly. His friends definitely looked changed. Obviously this was just a temporary thing, he reasoned - largely in part due to the hypnotic colours in his head telling him not to think deeply about it - but it was still hard not to think of them as Nikki and Amira. Hell, he was trying not to think of himself as the lovely Marcela at that very moment.
Thankfully, jealousy reared its ugly head. If there was one thing the old Miguel could never stand, it was being upstaged, especially when it came to sports and women. And sex was the most impressive sport of all. Miguel had always pulled, not just due to his family’s wealth and his good looks, but his natural charm. Only later did women find out how chauvinistically he viewed them, how he saw men as naturally dominant. Being the only one without a date was madness to him.
“S-si,” he said. “I’ve got a hot senorita of my own. I was just going to tell my hermanas that I can’t make lunch, because I plan to eat her out instead, ha! You have fun. Adios, you two! Have fun, because I’ll be having even more!”
He raced to track Katie down, practically running across the campus green to her usual spot. Sure enough, she was with several of her friends, all of them hotties, and they were comforting an Asian girl with a beautiful model-like face, who was crying.
“N-not fair! I didn’t realise. It was like I’d just forgotten and now I’m l-like this!” she cried.
“Shhh,” Katie said. “Not right now. Hey Miguel. Sorry, private conversation. Did you want me?”
At this, Miguel smiled. “Yeah, if you’ve got some time away from your friends. I want you, chica.”
And his tone left no room for interpretation.
***
All signs were pointing to a night of bliss and sexual conquest for the three young delinquents and criminals. Too bad, then, that things quickly went sideways. Nicholas was enamoured with Bree’s form. He had the restraints ready. He had the . . . other implements ready, in case she decided to be a real bitch to him, as he thought of it. They started out kissing and caressing one another, but him squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples enough to make her gasp in pain.
“T-too much!” she said.
“Yeah, but you’ll, like, take it,” Nick said anyway. “Show me the goods, honey. I sooooo wanna see ‘em.”
She removed her top, and he tore open the back of her bra, uncaring that he had ruined the straps. Her tits were large and round, topped with gorgeous pink nipples. She cupped them, massaging them and moaning.
“Your turn, hot stuff,” she replied. “Show me your totes amazing goods.”
He was keen enough to peel off his clothing immediately. His breasts were freed, jiggling and making himself a little embarrassed.
“Don’t joke,” he warned her. “Just put on a little weight, that’s all.”
“Mmh, and in such a perfect pair of places. Show me your dick.”
He removed his trousers, and that was when it all went wrong. His penis was far tinier than he remembered, and absolutely flaccid. “J-just give me a moment.”
“Let me help you. I don’t even want to, but I can’t help myself. You’ll know what I mean soon enough.”
“Like, what the fuck does that-”
She shoved her boobs right in his face, cutting him off. He groped them, squeezed them, but the joy wasn’t there. There was only a mounting jealousy. Why did she get such big boobs and not him? And why the hell was he thinking that?
He wasn’t alone. Aura was grinding her big butt up against Andre’s crotch, teasing him with her perfect form, letting him cup her ass and feel her wide, babymaking hips. He grunted, aroused and yet not aroused, his dick refusing to get hard.
“Yeah, thought that might happen,” she said, turning around to rub her fingers along his crotch, causing him to exhale. “Happened to me. Happens to all of us. Tried to warn you, but if I did, I’d end up as some street prostitute once the Headmistress found out. So just have to go along with it and do my part to help you along.”
Andre cocked his head. “I have no idea what that means. Look, I’m normally bigger. I just need a little more warming up, babe.”
“Or you need some music,” she said, and she hit the button on her phone that activated the room speaker. A sexy hip hop song - one they’d practised together - began to play, and something about it made Andre feel so much better.
“Mhmm,” he moaned, cupping his tits, his voice positively female by this point. “What’s h-happening to m-me? I don’t unders-stand!”
“You’ll get it soon enough. Don’t worry, I’ve been filled in. You and I are gonna be stars. Much better than the assholes we used to be.”
And then she continued fondling him, speaking of the perfect woman; a busty black superstar singer in the exact style they had already imagined for Andre. For Amira.
Miguel was similarly being taunted. Katie kissed him, fondled his large breasts. They were easily C-cups by this point, but he desperately wanted them to get bigger. He wasn’t aroused in the slightest by Katie’s body, despite how sumptuous her form was, despite the fact that he knew he wanted to fuck her. That he had to fuck her, just to prove his worth as a man. As a goddamn alpha male.
But instead, Katie teased him with her words and images, and those were what made his naked member hard as she stroked it, facing him as she straddled him upon the couch.
“Imagine being a sexy submissive housewife,” she cooed. “That’s what I’ve got to be. I can’t help but want it. If I try to fight it, it’s like a compulsion takes over me. I have to embrace it. But it’s so hot, isn’t it, Miguel? You could be Marcela. No longer a criminal but a smoking hot trophy wife. The kind of lady who knows how to please her man at all times. Who keeps the furniture clean so he can rail you with his big dick against it. Mhmm, imagine it. Imagine that life. You could get pregnant like that, Marcela. Knocked up. Mounted and bred. How does that sound?”
It was a new kind of sexy talk that Miguel was not familiar with, but instantly responded to. He took a deep breath, his increasingly large chest rising and falling. He could swear he could actually feel his hair growing in real time, his muscles dissipating, his hips broadening. He closed his eyes, even as Katie continued to touch his cock, which was small but now at least erect, and imagined that life. Being a housewife. Falling pregnant. Having a husband to serve. To no longer have to be the alpha male, but instead a beautiful and submissive woman who used her body to please. Ohhhh, it was too much.
“S-si,” he moaned. “Si. I want that. Ahhhh. Keep going. Keep going. Make me an esposa. Make me his esposa. Ahhh! Ohhh! Ahhh!”
He was so close. All of them were, and at around the same time as that. Andre could only think of himself as Amira, playing with his own soft tits, urging them to grow and his body to become beautiful as he sang the lyrics. Aura’s jerked him off, and with each pump his dick shrank more and more, diminishing rapidly. He wanted it to shrink. He needed it too. The same was true of Nicholas, who couldn’t even summon a violent or sociopathic thought. Bree was already playing with his body, making him wear the cheerleading costume again. A type of roleplay, she’d said, but it made him think of dancing again, and modelling, and being a beautiful woman. Somehow, this was the turn on.
“F-fuck me!” he cried. “Fuck me like I’m your naughty little slutty bitch!”
It was the craziest thing he had ever uttered, but his mind was full of fire, his own deviance towards others now turning inward, demanding he become someone else’s plaything for once.
“P-punish me! Spank me!”
Bree did, laughing as she did so. “Well, I can tell you’ll end up an interesting one!” she declared, slapping him, making him moan. “Sorry about this, but we all have to do it. It’s the final stage for some of us, to help others along so we don’t get the worst paths. But judging from how the Headmistress sees you, you’ll probably skip it. I think you’re already on the worst path, Nick! My Nikki!”
She slapped him again, and he finally came. They all came, a final spurt of semen that emptied their balls forever of their male produce. It would be the last time they would ever do so, and yet in the moment they each gasped and grunted and wailed in pleasure, sounding more like women than ever.
Especially Andre. He had consumed more genetic alteration material than the others, and it hit him like a freight train in his moment of climax. The others began to change further, their transformation accelerating, but to even Aura’s shock, Andre’s moved to much closer to completion. He cried out again and again, male orgasm transitioning to a female one as his breasts ballooned, his hips widened and his backside filled out beautifully. He gasped, falling to his side, clutching his penis. It withdrew almost into his body, and it was clear that he was mere hours away from his final change.
“Wh-what’s happening!? Ohhhh . . .”
Aura squeaked and grabbed her phone quickly, making a call.
“Headmistress? Yes, it’s me, Aura. We need to call Andre’s contacts ASAP. He’s about to go full woman. They’ll want to see this.”
Andre could only writhe, cupping his mounds as they grew. He was going to be a very busty, very attractive woman. And only now, the memory blockers finally falling away, did he realise the full extent of his changes.
He started to scream.
To Be Continued . . .