Conversion

"Welcome, Jazz," a disembodied voice said. "Please sit."

But that was wrong. Very wrong. I studied the card in my hand, the card that had admitted me to the room. 'Jasmine Rashid', the name read. It was impossible. I had checked very carefully before swiping it through the door lock that admitted me. Except... There had been that one last unexpected kiss from her, passionate and forgiving, after we had undressed, before we separated, she to her room, I to mine. "Trust me," I'd said, smiling to reassure her. "You'll be happier this way."

It was my great fortune to marry a beautiful woman, and my ill fortune to marry a lesbian. This procedure would fix that for sure.

"If you do not cooperate," the voice said, "you will be restrained."

"Wait!" I cried, alarmed. "This is the wrong card! Jasmine's my wife!"

But the machinery wasn't listening. Robotic arms leapt into motion, capturing my wrists and ankles, and before I knew it I was being lifted through the air and deposited in the seat. "Stop!" I shouted. "Help me! Someone, please!"

The seat was not uncomfortable, but it hummed with sensors and mechanisms. On a large computer display on the wall, different detailed scans of my body flashed briefly and huge quantities of incomprehensible data scrolled at the side. I watched anxiously, sure that it would see that I was a man and thus incompatible with the programme chosen for my wife, and meanwhile I struggled to be free of the bonds.

But all my struggles achieved was to be further imprisoned by straps that held me tight, like a fly in a mechanical spider's web, and nothing on the display indicated any hesitation to proceed. "Help!" I shouted as loud as I could, and then screamed as a dozen surgical lasers cut into me, neatly slicing entry points in my legs and my chest and allowing tentacle-like instruments to plunge into my flesh.

There was no pain to any of it, but my rising panic at the thought of those manipulators worming through my flesh faded into a blissful carelessness as anaesthetics and hypnotics dulled my mind. How long I drifted along at the edge of consciousness, I cannot say, but there were moments of lucidity. My terror at this fate was quickly forgotten, giving way to a curiosity, even a fascination, with how the transformation progressed.

I could feel myself shrinking in the seat as thick tubes carried away bone, fat and flesh, while lasers burned away every trace of hair from my body and needles pumped rejuvenating chemicals into my smooth skin. My penis shrank, my scrotum tightened, and where my balls went I had no idea, and I found myself giggling helplessly over their disappearance - a high-pitched giggle that served only to increase the hilarity. My once-tiny nipples grew into succulent cherries atop swelling breasts that expanded to enormity. "Wow," I said, licking my swollen lips at the thought of suckling on those sensitive tips.

But as the instruments tidied themselves away and the drugs cleared my system, I yearned to see the one place I could not. I could feel it there, aching to be touched, and were I not still restrained I would at once have satisfied that urge. I had been remade into a woman, something that would once have horrified me. It should have been my wife in this chair, transformed from frigid lesbian into a cock-hungry slut. A blonde, big-breasted bimbo. I shook my hair, admiring the platinum curls that cascaded about my shoulders and tickled my prominent nipples.

The door opened and Jazz waltzed in, grinning brightly and looking as beautiful as ever. But I only had eyes for one thing. Swinging from her crotch was the cock I had ordered for myself. If I was going to have a bimbo for a wife, I wanted a cock that could satisfy her. Before my eyes, it swelled to a formidable immensity.

The unseen itch of desire became a raging heat within. I wasn't sure what I wanted more: to suck on that proud shaft until it burst with joy, or to feel it plunging into my virgin depths. It was cruel of her to keep it out of my reach, selfish of her to stroke what I could fuck, generous of her to aim the tip at me as she cried victory and splashed cum across my huge, heaving breasts.

"You're right," she said. "I am happier this way."