The Device: Media Bias

Warning: This one is all about big weird swaps and reality manipulations. It contains boobs, tits and other mammaries, institutional femdom, greek statues, slutty boys, fashionable chastity, alternate histories in the making, cunt-boy x futa, marathon fucking, celebrity m-preg, work place drama, explosions, horse cocks (girls with), cultural feminization, slutty boys, in medias res, and a girl (whose expressed worldview is not that of the author) getting rewarded for bad behavior. Enjoy.

The Device: Media Bias

- A Smutty Fiction -

By Razmagurk

I looked out into the world I had created and I frowned.

Why was it so hard to find a good dick?

I suppose I had no one to blame but myself. I don't think I'd seen a guy with a schlong to be proud of ever since I'd made chastity cages a fashionable underwear choice. The changes seemed to ripple out in weird ways like that.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, stretching my long slender legs under my desk. The fingers of one hand traced idly over the soft flesh of my breasts and pinched at the stiff ache of my nipples while I looked fruitlessly through this world's pornography.

The throbbing ache between my legs - the hungry horny heat I'd been feeding all night - intensified with each new picture, each new video. The porn itself was hot, sure, but the knowledge that I was responsible for it was all the hotter. It was an inferno threatening to consume me the moment I let it. I don't even know how many times I'd already cum.

I clenched my wandering hand. Not yet. I needed to focus. Dicks. I needed a dick.

Don't get me wrong, there were still lots of hard dicks out there, but they were all on women. It had gotten to the point where a girl not wearing a strap-on was considered an exotic fetish. I'd made cute buxom guys getting their skirts raised and their slutty little holes pounded the foundation of north-american cinema and the truest expression of romance, but I'd made men too soft in the process. For what I had in mind next I needed a real slab of meat. Something to be proud of.

I bit my lip as I flipped back to the Aphrodite of Knidos.

I'd never heard of it before tonight, but apparently it was seminal. One of the earliest and most widely copied works of its kind. If ever there was a statue to swap, this was it. I just needed a dick to give her. Something big, something salacious, something that would bulge obscenely at the very fabric of history. My hand found its way back to my breast.

I closed down Pornhub. This was getting me nowhere. I'd swapped too much of it into the mainstream. All I could find on it now were tender romantic exchanges and crazy explosions. There had to be a better way.

I frowned. I mean there was a better way. I just didn't like it.

I looked down at the massive horsecock jutting out lewdly between my legs. I hated the notion of giving it up. Of all the dicks I'd had, this had been my favorite, but I just didn't have the patience to look any longer. I was so close.

I reached both hands around it and gave it a few powerful strokes to make sure it was as hard and presentable as it could be. This wasn't strictly speaking necessary - It was already rock hard and oozing thick globs of aromatic precum as it nestled warmly between my milky tits - but I couldn't resist.

I gave it one final kiss goodbye and fired the device.

The lights flashed and the electric smell of smoke filled the air. I dropped the scalding metal box to the ground and shook out my burnt hand. It started to singe the fabric of my carpet. The farther back I went the hotter it got, much like my arousal. That had been the hottest one yet.

The statue's demure attempts to hide her nudity were now complicated by the presence of a forearm-sized slab of prized stallion meat and two baseball sized testicles, perfectly rendered in lifelike marble. I couldn't stop grinning.

Statues throughout history followed suit.

She had been the epitome of female grace and beauty, a cornerstone of the classical era. All the figures and movements that came after - depictions of Aphrodite and idealized women through the entire ancient period and beyond - all now changed to reflect the enormous equine appendage I had given her.

The Venus de Milo, the Birth of Venus, a thousand lesser known works and all that they had inspired - the very idea of feminine beauty itself - all cowed to my perverted whim.

I sat back, my hand buried hungrily in my new pussy, capitalizing on the euphoric rush of power. I thought I'd been horny with that horse cock, but shit, this new sex was like playing with a live wire.

Maybe stealing the vagina of a sex goddess wasn't such a great idea after all.

I let out a low groan as I edged closer and closer to toe-curling brain-frying orgasm. Overwhelming pleasure wracked my body with even the faintest of caresses, and I was long past the point of being gentle. My other hand itself massaging my tits, a string-plucked accompaniment to the rapturous choir emanating from the heavenly folds of my new, divinely perfect pussy.

No. I bit my lip and pulled my hands away. It was the fall from paradise. I whimpered in frustration. No. No! I couldn't just give into my lust. Not yet. No matter how much I wanted to just frig my brains out, no matter how much I wanted to find one of this world's cute slutty boys and fuck well beyond the point where we could fuck no longer, there would be time for that later. I still had work to do.

I looked at my list. The Farnes Hercules was next. Maybe if I looked hard enough, I could still find a statuette of one of those lewd anime traps to swap it with. Then I could throw in the horniest looking tits I could find. The perfect icon of the new masculinity.

My pussy throbbed at the thought.

I blinked and looked again. My list, that had once seemed so impossibly long, was now almost complete. I'd come so far in such a short period of time; I'd changed so much.

It was almost enough to make me forget how this had all started. It felt so distant. I'd been so petty then. I had been this powerless nobody. God, I had been so angry.

Every day it was the same thing. Overworked in a job I'd come to despise, navigating a toxic work environment, failing to get ahead. I hated it.

I'd spent years thinking that something needed to change, but nothing ever did. Little did I know.

Can you blame me for going as far as I had? For letting things get a little out of hand? My life sucked. I was tired of always being shat on, of being looked down upon. You give me a chance to get out of that - to let off a bit of steam and to get some revenge? I'm going to take it.

I couldn't have imagined when it all started though, that it would all end like this.

It was Friday. I was trying to keep myself from crying. I had been passed over for promotion yet again.

This time had been the worst. This time they'd given it to Karen.

As the only other woman at the office, Karen was the closest thing I had to a friend. We were supposed to be in it together. Kaitlin and Karen: the office's star duo. For years we'd slaved away at our shitty jobs, helping each other when we could. We'd been through so much together. And this is how she repaid me?

It was obvious what was happening. We were both equally qualified, but she was the one with the slim figure and the daring bustline. I fumed at the memory of her dipping out for private meetings with the boss. I'd pretended not to know what was going on. I'd tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but this just confirmed it. Sluts like her gave women a bad name.

I was furious, but furious was good. Anger didn't count as weakness.

The subway ride home, however, was long, and anger burns fast. I could feel the grief and the anguish pushing its way into the corners of my perception, I could feel the lump in my throat and the hitch in my breath as the betrayal hit home. Don't cry. Just don't cry. Not here. Not now. Not over this.

I looked down at the box in my hands. I don't know who it had been intended for or why it had been just sitting there unattended in the foyer as I had tried not to storm out. I don't know why I grabbed it, I... I wasn't thinking. I'd had half a mind to smash it in a fit of impotent rebellion but I'd chickened out at the last minute.

It was still sitting in my lap now as the subway jostled and thumped and dark thoughts echoed through my soul. If ever there was a time for a distraction, this was it.

The thing inside... that device. It'll haunt me to the day I die. A small black cube with exposed wires, flashing lights and a big shiny black button. It looked so harmless, so stupid. I suppose so does a bomb until it goes off.

I skimmed through the accompanying letter, my brain taking in none of it. There was a lot of technical jargon about new models, intuitive interfaces, and test scenarios. Honestly it seemed more like a children's toy than anything else. I set the papers aside and pressed the button experimentally. The lights flashed and there was a noise like someone ripping a jacobs ladder in half. Then... nothing.

The subway hit a bump. Opposite me, the sickeningly sweet couple standing in the center of the aisle shifted. The guy had his hand on the bar and the girl, jostled by the sudden movement, was leaning on him.

Except, no. That wasn't quite right.

I looked again. The girl's head, with her long flowing hair and her pink pouty lip gloss and her overdone eyeshadow, was sitting on top of her boyfriend's body! He... she... shifted her weight as her masculine body adopted a more feminine pose. The girl clinging to him now bore the short hair and chiseled jaw and rugged stubble that had once sat so proudly atop that handsome body.

My ears went red in surprise. I tried not to jump. What the hell was going on? Had I done that? I looked down at the weird device and pressed it again. The lights flashed and that noise dug into me, rattling my teeth even above the din of the subway. The thing hot in my hand.

To my left, a businessman standing under an advertisement for Hawaii tourism was now wearing a green string bikini, his enormous breasts swaying and jiggling softly with each little bump. Behind him, on the picture of a sandy beach, a model was reclining in the sun in her business suit.

I waited for the scream. I waited for him to look down and realize what was happening, for the other passengers to question the impossibility of this scantily clad commuter. Instead, he looked down at his lack of watch, then asked the woman sitting nearby if she had the time.

The couple opposite me kissed. The now petite boyfriend wrapping his delicate arms tighter around his beaux. No one seemed to realize that anything was amiss. No one but me.

Holy shit. A wide grin crossed my face. I looked back down at the box. What the hell was this thing?

I was reeling from the rush of sudden power. My head swam with possibility, with potential. For the first time in my life I was in control. I needed to see what it could do.

Things... may have gotten out of hand.

By the time the train got to my station there wasn't a single passenger left unchanged. They had become sacrifices to the scientific method and to my own capricious whims. Honestly though? It was probably for the best. That guy looked better in a bikini than he had in that frumpy old suit anyhow.

Shit, the idea had me going in a way I'd never felt before. What a rush.

I pushed my way through the doors into the mall. It was noisy and crowded but it was the fastest way home. Normally I hated the mash of people. Today, I secretly cheered the target-rich environment. My hands itched.

Where did I want to start?

There was a little magazine store done up to look like an old timey news stand. I stopped in my tracks as the happy faces of photoshopped models stared back at me from the racks.

I'd seen them all my life. All these beautiful women that pervaded society, all these girls that everyone seemed to love, always vacuously smiling from behind photographs, judging me with their unblinking eyes, drilling into me the notion that no matter how hard I worked I lacked the good looks to get ahead in life, that no matter what I did I was never going to be good enough. Today it stung extra hard.

Would I have gotten the job if I'd have shown more skin? If I'd dressed better? If I had been a pretty little doll like Karen?

My fist shook.

The worst part was the envy, the jealousy. I hated them. I hated them so much, but I couldn't help but want to be what they were - what they pretended to be. I hated myself for wanting that.

I grabbed one of the magazines. The cover was advertising some designer brand's new fashion line. I looked down at what I was wearing. I frowned. I had enough fashion sense to get by - a girl's got to - but I'd always dismissed it as frivolous. In my youth I had insisted it was a waste of time, unnecessary for those willing to do the work. My naivety had been a defense against the sting of my own inability. I couldn't be judged for my failure if I never tried. I had clung to that excuse until it was far too late to change my ways.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I looked at the ratty business clothes that hung gracelessly from me. They were disheveled from a long day of stress and aggression. These were real clothes, working clothes, clothes that endured years of early mornings and late nights. I had thought them so reliable. They had failed me.

I turned my gaze to the shining beautiful girl on the cover, her perfect body dressed fresh and proud in perfectly fitting clothes that were only good to be worn once. Fine. They wanted me to be one of their barbie dolls? They wanted me to play their stupid game? They'd get it.

I pointed the device and fired.

It was like getting kicked by a train. I flinched, but by the time my body or brain could react, it was already over. There was no slow transformation, no gradual shift. One moment I was me, the next I was someone else.

I looked down at my new skinny body, at the elegant lines and creamy skin beneath my designer clothing. I had to pinch at my soft slender flesh to prove I wasn't dreaming.

I looked back at the magazine, at the model now wearing my body. She had a confident grin even in those ill-fitting clothes, even with that old body of mine. I gritted my teeth. Somehow, she still looked so damn good. In her, my frumpy flabby facade looked curvy, cute and confident. How was she able to look so good when I'd looked so awful?

I threw the magazine down in disgust. She could fucking have it. Let's see how she liked having a body that always ached for no reason and put on weight no matter what I tried. I had something better.

I took stock of my new body. I was so light and thin. I grinned and bounced, giggling in excitement. Even my voice was different. Oh yes, this would be much better! A new me, a new beginning. For the first time in my life I felt beautiful. I couldn't stop smiling.

I browsed through the rest of the stack. Why stop at just this body? I could have the best of the best. Any picture could be ammunition in my war against this shitty world. After a lifetime of getting shat on, I could finally have everything I'd ever wanted.

What was this miracle device? Who had it been intended for? I shook my head. It didn't matter. I had it now. No one saw me take it. Even if they did come after me somehow, well, I'd just have to deal with them.

An ad caught my eye. It was a Calvin Klein model: sexy, powerful, rugged. My grin took a mischievous twist. Let's see how this symbol of virility would look in something a little more comfortable. I fished around the magazines for something fun then pressed the big black button.

The perfect chiseled masculinity of the model was now cut by the slender purple silk of the Victoria's Secret bra and panties he now wore. I doubled over laughing, but my laugh faltered as I realized my breath was catching short.

My heart was pounding. I awkwardly shifted my still unfamiliar weight. Fuck. Was this seriously turning me on?

Hot blood pounded through my veins as my eyes roamed over the lingerie-clad male model. I wondered what he'd look like with the strap of his bra hanging evocatively down one shoulder. I bit my lip, then shook my head.

What the hell was I doing?

It had to be the power. This euphoric release of endorphins was just my brain reacting to being in control, right? The girly clothes had nothing to do with it. Could it be that it was just my new body reacting in weird ways? No. I'd been feeling the heat since the subway, hadn't I? I just hadn't been able to piece it together through the maelstrom of emotion assailing my brain.

I shook my head. Power. It had to be. It was a perfectly natural response to feeling truly powerful for the first time. That was all. How naive I had been.

I paid for the magazines and left, trying not to wonder what the overweight salesman would look like in something pink and ruffled.

Then it happened.

It was subtle. I didn't even really notice it at first. It was on one of those center-of-the-aisle billboards that cycled through a half-dozen ads. I only just caught it out of the corner of my eye as I walked past. I actually had to stop and wait for it to cycle back through, just so I could prove to myself I wasn't crazy.

It was a Calvin Klein ad. Similar to, but distinctly different from, the one in the magazine, and yet the rugged cut of the model's sculpted, athletic form was draped with the same Victoria's Secret bra and panties I'd swapped in the other ad.

My heart pounded.

I glanced around. Had anyone else noticed this? No. They were carrying on as though everything were normal. I, the flustered pervert girl ogling the sexy crossdressing underwear model was drawing more attention than it.

Heat flushed through me as I turned away. I needed to see this for myself. There was a male underwear store not too far from here. They were a rarity, but the gauche exaggeration of the synthetic bulges on display had burnt themselves into my memory. I was pretty sure they stuffed the damn things with socks to boost sales.

Today though - to my absolute delight - one of them was wearing lacey panties instead.

It wasn't just the ad that had changed. It was... well, not all underwear, but all instances of that underwear? That product?

Oh my god. I blushed in surprise as a hunky look guy came out with a dark purple bra under his white button-up shirt. It wasn't just that people were oblivious to the changes - somehow, in making the ad normal, the device had made its existence a normal part of real life.

What if I had gone further? Could I make guys go around wearing thongs? Bondage gear? Nothing at all? Small petty dreams danced in my head. My breath was hot and heavy. I had discovered perverted things about myself the likes of which I had never dreamed and now I could make those fantasies real.

I clutched the little box protectively to my chest as I fled the mall, gears turning and ideas forming in my increasingly horny brain.

I tried to act natural, but some part of me was still terrified that the veneer of normality was just that, that the bubble of unawareness would suddenly burst and that all I'd done would catch up to me. I could just picture some little-girl bodied cop chasing me through the mall while the head-swapped couple and bikini-clad businessman from the train looked on stunned.

I laughed. You know what? It was almost enough to make me forget I'd been passed over for promotion. Almost.

I looked down at my phone. I had three missed calls from Karen and a slew of texts. I put it away without reading them. I would deal with that bitch soon enough.

Everyone I saw was a potential target. What would happen if I swapped that father with his baby girl? What would happen if I swapped that graffiti artist with the mural she was defacing? I resisted the urge. There'd be plenty of time for this later. If I stopped to swap people now, I'd never get home and tonight? Tonight, I had plans.