This choice: You find your luggage has been lost. • Go Back...Chapter #5You find your luggage has been lost. by: Mr. George   Camille looks secretly delighted that your luggage has been lost. Or rather she seems to be lingering near you, as if she expected this!
Heading over to the nearby desk, you're greeted by an official, with a look of complete contempt on her face. Her nose scrunched up, as if your presence offends her.
"My luggage seems to be missing..." you start. Wanting to sounds conciliatory, rather than begin, with an accusation of incompetence, or malice. You feel Camille like a vague shadow at the edge of your vision.
"Was there any contraband in it?" The official asks, in a disinterested tone. She's refusing to meet your eyes, deeply uncomfortable even just seeing a man.
"No!" you object instantly, "No drugs, no guns... no contraband!" you answer, definitively, even a touch sharply. It's at this point that Camille sidles up to you, "It did contain your clothes, didn't it?" she asked innocently.
The official isn't waiting for your answer, already nodding her head that Camille is right.
"Perhaps, our newest visitor needs a guide to help her adjust..."
She looks at Camille, as she weighs up the option. Her next words addressed to you, even if she's staring through you.
"Do you accept, Mistress Camille as your guide?"
"Thank you." you offer her a smile, and turn back to the official. "I accept."
She gives a heaving sigh of relief, that you've agreed to take advice. You hadn't realised it would be so bureaucratic.
"While visiting, you will have to take and keep a female body." She told you.
"I have the perfect look in mind." Camille answers on your behalf. Part of you doesn't care how you look, another part, doesn't want to surrender that entirely. As you try to interrupt, and give her your preferences. Camille walks you towards a nearby door. The official flanking you, ensures nothing untoward happens.
She gestures you through the door, and it hisses shut behind you. Camille and the official on the other side. But, as the walls turn transparent, you realise you're in a nanite transformation tube. The feeling of helpless vulnerability and confinement mount. The silence is absolute, until a crackle announces an audio link to the outside.
"I just want to fit in. I don't need to be pretty, or anything." you suggest.
It merely draws an amused smile from the official, and a slight but worrying shake of the head from Camille.
"No, my dear. You need to embrace this. To gain a body that'll keep you alert and aware of the changes. One that'll remind you that you're on holiday."
A hiss, and a white cloud descends from the ceiling. The nanite cloud swarm with their distributed intelligence. Assessing you, and working out how to transform you. They go to work instantly, devouring your clothes in an instant. They exist briefly as dust before even that is gone.
Hands reflexively go to cover your crotch. The whole procedure feeling far too public and humiliating.
"You won't be allowed to forget your new body... or wear clothes to disguise your new sex." Camille tells you.
"I don't want that!" you protest.
"I'm your guide, your companion. You're my responsibility..."
Your skin starts to prickle as if burning, the nanites penetrating your skin, your very cells. It loses any blemishes, smoothing and softening. Losing all hint of muscle tone, a layer of feminine fat takes away you last trace of masculinity. Already you look androgynous. Your hands slim, your arms get slender. Beneath their cupping, you feel yourself shrink away.
As you shrink. You're more than compensated as you feel other parts of your body swell to compensate. Your dull male nipples, widen and rise into proud womanly nips. With a purpose to serve, and they spike in sensitivity too.
Hands snap from your crotch to cover, to protect them from the shame of their exposure. Inches wash from your height, as you shrink until you share the same eyeline as the official and Camille. Now a womanly height, you try a weak smile.
There's not much room to move inside the tube. But, it's starting to feel more confined. Your hips widen, with a muffled crack, and as you adjust your stance, you feel the extra weight being carried behind you.
The nanites seem to be happy with your body, as a rush of warmth races over your skin. Seemingly following tracks, in it's passing it leaves behind clothes... Or rather the hint of them. A gaudy yellow bikini now serving as your clothes.
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c4/71/31/...
The link is cut, as you see their lips move, but not a trace of sound reaches your ears. They walk a tour around your tube, examining you from every side and every angle. You've never felt anything like it before. Cheeks burn crimson, just from your own imagination, without hearing their criticism.
The link cuts back in, without a crackle.
"There's still the contraband." The official's sneering voice cutting you to the core. "She'll wear her shame like a badge." Camille answers.
"But, a punishment is in order."
The sound cuts out, as Camille leans close, whispering a suggestion. A fresh breeze washes over your skin, as the nanites reactivate.
The girly squeal that bursts from your mouth is like no sound you've ever made before. But, it feels mild compared to the outrage just executed on your body. Your rump is far riper, and fuller than anything you've ever seen before.
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ae/68/ba/...
The official's head bobs from side to side, as she weighs up whether this is punishment enough. The taunting silence once again absolute, but you don't need words to recognise her next gesture. The two hands cupped in front of her own chest, clearly miming a larger bust.
Smashing a tiny fist against the transparent barrier is futile, and just serves to remind you how much weaker and more vulnerable you are now. The gust of nanites has you swatting the air by your bust. It only serves to make the girls jiggle and shake more, as the weight mounts. Your shoulders already feeling the extra heft of your swinging bust.
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f8/5b/1a/...
The look shows the official still isn't happy. You shudder to think how you'll look after she's satisfied. Camille surrenders with a shrug of her shoulders. Giving you a beaming smile through the tube walls, and a thumbs up, as if she's won some heroic victory.
There's a series of rapid stacatto clicks, and your hips widen. Your ass swelling and swelling. Truly, Camille did pat it good-bye, just moments ago.
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/b1/0a/...
You let out a sigh, as the tube finally ascends back into the ceiling. No more transformations for you.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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