The Feminisation Initiative

It begun in the year 2100. A culmination of over-population, unemployment and sexual harassment demanded a response.

In America, where the crisis hit hardest, there were massive talks and debates across the country. How was the problem to be fixed? Global warming had been identified, assessed, targeted and dealt with. Beginning in 2030 with the first female majority, and in 2035 with the first ethnic majority, leaders across party-lines had put politics aside and put actual effort into facing problems. Poverty and homelessness had been eradicated. America reflected the broader trends in the rest of the world; homogenous white men in power as a group were almost extinct. By the time the year 2080 rolled around, there were ten times as many world leaders who were women than men, most of whom were of mixed ancestry. The pendulum had most definitely swung the other way.

However, the female future had not come without cost. In addition to a population explosion, young men had nowhere to project their rampant libidos. Strip-clubs were a thing of the past, and even raunchy restaurants like Hooters had closed down. World peace had meant a drastic reduction in military forces, and sports like boxing had been outlawed. With no combat and no oogling had come a straining of tensions between men and women, and the male populace struggled. Most white men were unemployed - they had been pushed out of jobs by both ever advancing robotics, and a wave of well-educated women. Whilst men of mixed descent or other protected characteristics had been aided by affirmative action quotas, white straight men had no such protection. This led to both record levels of porn addiction and sexual harassment by gangs of unemployed men.

The President had set a deadline of 5 a.m. September 1st, 2099 to come up with a solution to be implemented the following year. "No plan is too radical," she had warned them before this, the last all night session, "and nothing is off the table." Her words were beamed into American living rooms and around the world, and the citizens of the United States waited with baited breath for morning to come.

As the clock struck 6 a.m., just as the media pundits began working themselves into a frenzy about 'delays' and inefficiencies', the government revealed their strategy to the country. Kids were shushed, TVs were turned up and phones buzzed as everyone at once found out about...

"The F Initiative"

"It is clear to every household in this country that there is a problem, and rather than bury our heads in the sand like the governments of old, we have decided to implement a radical new plan to tackle this. The aims of this plan are to correct the mistakes of the past to ensure the future."

"The overpopulation crisis is a result of two many fertile couples procreating. Science is partially to blame; treatments exist for every conceivable medical reason that would cause infertility. We have considered this problem and come up with a solution that will please all involved, whilst ensuring the future of humanity."

"We have constructed a plan to combat this problem - however, it is sensitive in nature and therefore cannot yet be fully revealed to the public. However, it will go into effect at midnight on the 1st of January, 2100. We will be sending letters out to a select few of the population - the selection criteria for this process will remain confidential, at least for the moment. The only thing that we will reveal to the public right now is that those whom we select are perfect for the task that has been chosen, even if they don't know it yet. These lucky individuals will get a chance to serve their county, as well as being rewarded handsomely. They will spend two months training for a new role at one of our F centres before being release back into the country to help save this country!"

"Further instruction will be released as our plan is formulated. Rest assured, this is what is best for America. Serve your country proudly!"

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"Won't they immediately figure out what's really going on?" said a soft voice, which echoed sonorously through the darkened room. The dimmed lights illuminated soft, expensive furnishings and gleamed off a rich mahogany desk. The room was the secret heart of power in Washington, close to the Oval office and yet unobtrusive, and it looked it. Everything was understated and yet screamed of absolute authority. The President reclined on the leather chaise-lounge with her legs akimbo, a blonde head between her thighs. Both were wearing stockings and garter belts, with the rest of their clothes jumbled together in a heap on the floor. The blonde, the Secretary of State, was still wearing her panties: she was the true public servant. To enter the President's cabinet was to be a giver.

The blonde paused her kisses and replied, "Yes and no, Madame President, and that's the genius of the plan. We have the internet history of every single person in this country, and the data does not lie. More specifically, we know the pornographic tastes of every single person in the country. All the men we will select secretly crave domination and feminisation - and all that we are doing is giving them a little nudge. The future is female after all. 'Everything in the world is about sex, except sex..." She went back down and flicked her tongue lightly over the President's clit.

"...which is about power, I know." The President's mouth curled into a smile. The room fell quiet, save for the soft sounds of the Secretary's tongue. As the President's orgasm built, she squeezed the head between her thighs tighter, and curled her fingers into her hair. The Secretary's tongue was relentless, teasing and flicking, and she inserted a long slim finger into the President's pussy. She began to move her finger gently, syncing the movement with her tongue. The President squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her body evaporated with pleasure, pulses of light arcing through her thighs and hips and into her nipples. A soft moan escaped her lips and she slowly released the Secretary's head, gasping as the finger was removed.

The office was quiet once more, and the Secretary remained obediently knelt inches from the President's pussy. She tasted sweet.

"So these men think to be feminised is to be sexy, powerful?," asked the President, her tone slightly breathy as she came down.

The Secretary looked up into the President's eyes. "Subconsciously, I think so, yes. So eventually everyone will work out that the true aim of the initiative is to transform a segment of society into pliant sluts, who will be willing sex slaves. They all secretly want this, so really we are doing them a favour."

"A 'lady doth protest too much' situation, then?" A quiet chuckle filled the room. "It's so delicious, Secretary Robinson, I could almost scream...almost." She looked pointedly at her inferior, who took the hint, and softly pressed her lips to the President's pussy once more. "

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"Well this looks just fine Mr Tale!" the nurse exclaimed, as she beamed at my gloomy face. "Although, it's not like I had a lot to be working with!" I blushed at her comments, and she fiddled away with a camera, before taking a few pictures.

"It's just regulations! We have to know that you've been properly...prepared for your stay here at the F Center!" she giggled.

When I first received the letter inviting me to an F-Centre, I was ecstatic. I was part of the first wave. The Government had spelled out the perks - everyone who accepted their offer would have permanent employment once the two month training period ended, a handsome pension and receive a golden handshake worth $50,000. The only downside of course is that no one knew once you accepted what work you would be doing for the rest of your life, and no one knew what happened inside the centres.

The F-Centers themselves were fairly imposing buildings, all custom built under immense secrecy. The conspiracy theorists were in overdrive: some insisted that all men sent to the center were going to die, some that they would be forever changes, and more that the centers were run by aliens.

No-one really knew how they had selected the participants - only that they had exclusively it seemed gone to young males. The news was in an uproar - such a thing hadn't happened in years! It seemed so biased, so unfair!

And I agreed until I got the letter.

I had turned up outside the F-Centre on a chilly Friday morning, and presented my letter of invitation to the receptionist. The building hummed around me, with nurses, orderlies and doctors. I was whisked into a corner office and presented with what seemed like reams and reams worth of paper to sign. After page 3 I stopped reading and kept signing - which now I was realising had been mistake.

I looked down at my cock unhappily. It was locked away in a tiny metal device which looped round the back of my balls and kept everything else uncomfortably small. When the nurse had put it on, she winked at me before I heard I distinct *click*.

"How long do I have to have this on for? The whole two month stay?" I asked tentatively.

Mischief glinted in her eye. "Oh well yes of course! This device is just a training monitor, completely routine! Although, it is also suitable for long-term wear..." she said slyly. I blushed. Well this was bullshit - my cock was now locked away for at least two months!

"Okay! We're almost done! Time for a psychological evaluation!" her voice trilled, an evil glint in her eye. I shivered.

"Just lie back! There you go. Now, I'm just going to insert a rectal probe - try to be a grown-up about this! There are just some readings we need to take during the test..."

Rectal probe! Come on! I'd never had anything like this before at the doctors. And I'd never put anything in there myself...well no that was a lie. Back at home I had at the back of the back wardrobe a small vibrator that I had played with occasionally...

"This will feel cold..." A jolt ran through me as she inserted a cold, well-lubricated finger.

"Just relax Mr. Tale! That was the easiest so far today - have you put anything up there before? You can tell nursey, don't worry I won't tell anyone!"

My splutters of denial were cut short as she inserted the probe, which was far thicker and went far deeper than I anticipated. I wriggled uncomfortably.

"Ohhh, I think she likes it!" the nurse mocked me. My cheeks flushed red and she giggled again.

"After we've got you strapped in, I'll just pop these goggles on your head!" she told me, gesturing absently to a pair of state-of-the-art VR glasses. "Don't worry about the test! It's completely autonomous once it starts and should become quite straightforward fairly quickly. I'm going to lock both you and the goggles into place once you have them on for safety, and then leave the room until the test is over."

I lay back on the bed and the nurse pulled two metal hinged restraints over my wrists and locked them down my sides, and did the same with my ankles. This was mad! She now had me completely in her hands, and I could do nothing. I begin to feel fear course through me. What if something went wrong, what if I couldn't escape? The nurse noticed.

"Please don't worry! Whatever happens, these automatically release in 30 minutes whatever happens, and I can release them before that if there is an emergency. I'll be in the next room and if anything goes wrong I'll stop the test immediately." Her gently mocking sneer had disappeared, and she seemed genuinely concerned. I took some breaths, and gave a shaky smile. Her smile reappeared, but warmer this time.

The nurse gingerly handled the goggles and pulled them over my head. Everything immediately went black and quiet. I'd read about these goggles - completely photo and sound realistic, and completely immersive. They were so accurate your brain apparently wasn't able to tell the difference between this or reality. They also had neurosomatic sensors that completely replicated the touch of what you saw, as long as there was an object roughly similar in size and shape in the real world.

I felt the goggles lock over my head as the nurse fussed over me. "All done!" she said soothingly, "now just lie your head back. I'll be back when it's all over! Good fuck, I mean, luck!" She pulled the headphones over my ears before I could say anything - when I did say "What?" I couldn't even hear my own voice through my ears, just the muffled vibrations from my vocal cords - the noise cancellation on these things was wild!

I lay down and tried to get myself to relax. The restraints allowed for a little movement, and I shifted to get myself more comfortable. I must look a sight, I thought: locked and spread-eagled on a metal bed, naked save for VR goggles and a chastity cage, with a probe up my ass! Just the image made me smile at how ridiculous this whole situation was, and I relaxed a little. I was beginning to feel more comfortable, save for the full sensation in my ass, and even that was beginning to feel nice.

"Hi Justin" a voice purred in my ear. "Let's see what you're made of shall we?" I shivered, involuntarily. AI these days was getting completely out-of-hand - that sounded like a real person!

Light. The VR booted. I was in a room - I was on a bed. I was bound by four black ropes, one round each wrist and ankle. There was a TV at the foot of the bed I was lying on, switched off for the moment. Only the difference between how the bed and ropes should feel, and how they actually felt (cold and hard, rather than soft and warm), reminded me I wasn't in reality. Then, immediately as I noticed the incongruence it disappeared. The sensation on my back and wrists changed to match the bed. Incredible! The neurosomatic technology was phenomenally accurate. Even the restraints round my wrist now felt like tight cords!

Wait.

As I looked down over my body I saw what I was wearing. Strappy black heels. Sheer black tights. A tight, barely bulge covering, miniskirt. I continued gazing in horror, as the headset adjusted the sensations to match the clothes. The tights encased each leg, and when I shifted slightly, I felt the silky sensation of the skirt flowing on top. As I looked down my body I noticed I couldn't see my mid-section - there were two breasts in the way. I felt their weight on my chest, and they moved as I rolled slightly. I had boobs! I could feel them being squeezed tightly against the lacy purple bra they were stuffed into. Uncontrollably, my cock pulsed in it's cage.

How the hell had they known! I had been jerking off to fantasies of feminisation since I had been a teenager. Did they know that? What the hell was going on? Was this another exercise in male sexual restraint - like an empathy thing? They drilled it into us again and again at college - 'imagine how you would feel, being catcalled when you were dressed up all nice! If you wouldn't want to hear it yourself, don't say it!" And then typically I had imagined being catcalled, dressed in my sister's cheerleading uniform jerking off desperately at home after classes ended. How did they know

I looked up at the ceiling, and a girl looked back at me. Wait, that's me - a ceiling mirror! What the hell was going on...not only my clothes were different. My hair flowed over my shoulders and my heavily made-up face stared back at me. Red lips. Black lashes. Perfect foundation. I looked like a girl with an agenda on a night out; a girl looking for a man to fuck or a boy to suck. I was never able to look this good at home. My poor cock pulsed again, trapped in its cage.

Slut

What? What the hell was that? I looked back down at the foot of the bed, and the TV had turned on. The letters of the words which had just been spoken burned on the screen.

You slut.

Filled with confusion and curiosity, I continued staring. The words were replaced by a film...a porn film? A girl on screen was almost aggressively sucking an erect penis. She was salivating and sucking it down and licking it like she was a prisoner on death row and his cock was her last meal. She looked up and panted 'please let me suck your cock, I'm your fucking whore, I'm your slut, fuck my mouth, please'. The penis then plunged back into her mouth and her eyes rolled back in pleasure as it thrust in and out, in and out.

What the hell was this - they make me into some VR slut and then make me watch porn? What was I supposed to do - how to you pass the test? The man on-screen grabbed the girl's ponytails and pulled her further onto his masculine weapon. She gagged, then moaned in pleasure as he face-fucked her.

My own crotch pulsed and I instinctively tried to reach down to grab my dick. The restraints held and it was all I could do to watch in horror as the bulge in my skirt bobbed up and down as my locked cock tried to get hard, and failed. This was cruel, I thought: making me watch porn with a chastity cage. I can't pleasure myself! As if by magic, the rectal probe gently buzzed, reminding me it was there as it sent shockwaves through my groin and into my stomach.

The girl on the screen pulled the dick out of her throat, looked into the camera and winked. At that precise moment, the cock she had been sucking exploded on her face. Holding gaze with the camera, she began to scoop the cum off of her face into her mouth, sucking each finger dry until she had swallowed it all down. She looked so happy and fulfilled, I almost envied her.

Suck it all down slut, the voice whispered.

The screen began to flicker, throwing up text too fast to read interspersed with scenes of girls getting fucked. That blonde screams, this redhead pumps herself up and down, then the brunette begs to be fucked harder. All the girls seemed to be consumed by pleasure and ecstasy, being fucked to pure satisfaction. The text was a blur, but I caught the occasional SLUT, WHORE or GIRL . The blonde was on her back, with her legs spread wide, moaning 'fuck' as she was pounded. The redhead was riding cowgirl style, desperately grinding on a stud, holding him down by the shoulders, her tights torn. The brunette was being fucked the hardest, but was still desperately moaning to be fucked harder and harder.

Look how sexy you are whore, of course you wanted to be fucked.

I was so confused, both at what was going on and my bodies reaction to it. The words and scenes were counter to everything I had learned about in my consent classes at school - these words are derogatory and shameful, and should never be used! Never shame a woman for what she does with her body!\On the other hand, lying there bound and dressed to the nines, my stockinged ankles straining against the ropes, my body helplessly squirming on the bed, my locked penis desperately failing to get hard...I was more aroused than I had ever been in my entire life. My confusion and shame began to fall away, and before long I was consumed in sensation, lost to my thoughts.

You are the girl.

Bassy throbbing music began to pound, first quietly and then getting louder. Simultaneously, the probe in my ass began to vibrate, first softly and then with growing intensity to the same beat. It was resting right on my prostate. The girls being impaled on cocks like rods of iron on the screen began to bounce or be fucked harder, in time with the music. My back arched, as my hips helplessly began gyrating to the same rhythm, trying to amplify the wonderful feeling from the rod in my own ass, consumed with my own pleasure.

YOU ARE THE GIRL.

I am a slut whispered the voice in my head. I am a whore. I am a sissy fuckslut. Was that the VR headset? I had no idea anymore, I was simply consumed with the images onscreen and the sensations in my body. I looked up at the ceiling and saw a blonde girl, dressed like a slut on a friday night, helplessly gyrating and wriggling and squirming with frustrated pleasure. There was a spot of damp on her skirt and I felt myself leaking pre-cum through my cage. I look so sexy, I look so fuckable, I look like a slut, of course I should be fucked, fucking like the blonde on-screen, dressed up so sexy and girly...fuck me, oh fuck me, it feels so good, I feel so slutty