The Coded Feminine: Pt. 02

Part 2 of the Coded Feminine storyline.

This section has a slower burn, trying to introduce you to the mechanics and worldbuilding of the setting.

All characters are meant to be adults.

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More words had emerged from those docile lips, but I did not dare to stay and hear them.

Tears were building in my eyes, but I had to continue my path.

*Pat, pat, pat* My footsteps were all I could focus on to keep me from collapse.

"How will I even survive in this city?!" I asked myself, panicking.

The most I could hope for was the small pay of a days work. But then I looked down at my body.

Already most of the muscle I had built was gone, and in its place, there was only soft, weak, pale flesh.

"Who is going to want me like this?"

Finally, I reached the place:

A large open space, half parking lot and half assembly area. Food stalls and small shacks that sold random items, were lining the four sides of a large football-field sized clearing. On one side of the clearing was a large, two story building, standing out from the rest of the packed improvised shacks.

It seemed to be a community center at one point, but now that most of the social safety net had broken down the community center served more like a bulletin board and inn. People would come trying to find whatever job would have them, and for a small percentage of the earnings the place would then organize the hirings and acquire some clients.

It was safer than going about it on your own, and since most of the people that could hire any help were the rich, transportation was an issue, since they usually lived far away from the great slums the city had turned into. The community center would help with transportation, for another fee of course.

Entering the makeshift plaza felt like walking into a post-apocalyptic landscape. Every building except for the community center had been recently built. All propped up after the economy went to shambles.

And it showed.

Slanted roofs of rusted metal, walls made from uneven planks and unpainted concrete blocks and doors that were always misaligned or sometimes not even there. While the rest of the city still clung to the buildings made twenty or thirty years ago, and simply added a few more roofs or stalls around them, this place was wholly new. And it reflected what had become of life in today's time.

Walking into the plaza, I saw the packs of men going to and from. Their garbs mostly working attire or dirty jeans and heavy coats. I traced my eyes around the gathering packs, looking for any recognizable faces. This had been my workplace of sorts for the past two years and I had many acquaintances and even a couple of friends around the place.

Some of them had started to disappear recently, but I knew now what had probably happened to them all.

After a short while I noticed an odd thing:

"There are none of those 'women' here."

Looking for them now, I glanced around the place, the corners, the small alleys that entered the plaza.

"None." I said out loud with a heavy sigh of relief.

I felt the breath of exhaled stress and noticed how tense I had been the past half an hour, ever since leaving my apartment and meeting those devils in the street.

I walked past the few stalls to my right, following the perimeter of the square plaza to reach the main building. I knew the owners well: the first stall was owned by an old woman, grey and small, she sold fish caught in the river a few miles from the city, small sardines mostly, but sometimes she had a crab or two as well.

When I stared at her she smiled warmly, but she did not seem to recognize me.

"Good luck today boy." She said with a smile.

"Just how old must I appear in the eyes of strangers?"

I wondered at first, but then I thought:

"To this ancient woman, even my father could be a boy."

"Thank you." I muttered, my voice still sounding alien and far too girly for what I was used to.

As I continued crossing the clearing, I started hearing the faint buzzing of drones.

Inside the cramped and noisy neighborhoods, one could almost forget about them: The tiny, ever-present eye of the mighty. A full score was circling overhead, small as the smallest mice, yet their eyes were sharp, and I knew they carried computers smart enough to recognize someone, even in disguise.

I knew them well; I used to build them. A thousand years ago, when I had a college degree, a career, a house, and hope for the future.

The next stall was owned by a good friend of mine, Karl, he used to be a rough old man with a heavy black beard and full of muscles. He was a decent smith and could repair almost any tool.

But ever since two weeks ago the store had been closed. Apparently one day Karl never showed up and that was that. He didn't answer my calls, nor anyone else's.

Today it surprised me to see the store had a light on and the windows and door were opened once again.

I gulped and clung to the small hope that I would get to see my friend again. I would be glad to see him, even if he might have changed, just as I had.

When I came inside my hopes seemed to fly out the door just as quickly as they had entered. Behind the counter was a younger man, in his thirties, brown beard trimmed short and a military cut in his hair, lean muscle on his arms. He was tiding something on the top shelve and his back was towards me, not seeming to have noticed my coming.

He picked up a heavy box, full of metal parts, making a great noise as they shifted inside; and placed it near effortlessly on the very top shelf of the cabinets behind the counter. His back muscles flexing and rippling, and his white tank top, already translucent with sweat, not leaving much to the imagination.

A strange sensation captured my heart. It wasn't an attraction, not quite. But seeing this man's man, doing a man's work. Tall, strong and full of muscle. It did something to me...

I pictured myself getting lifted by those hands, as effortlessly as he had lifted the box that probably weighted over a hundred pounds.

My heart skipped a beat. And a strange guilty pleasure followed.

"Uhmm."

I cleared my throat, the sound sounding more girly than I intended. Then tried to follow it with a deep.

"Hey."

But the sound was once again more like the one a schoolgirl would conjure.

He turned around slowly and walked up to the counter. His stature dwarfing the cramped store and my own height.

"He is huge..." I thought, as the shadow casted reached my face.

He looked around and then down at me, focusing his eyes on mine and after a second of quick recognition he said:

"Hello, how can I help you?"

His voice was deep but smooth, like hot chocolate. And again, that strange pleasurable feeling coursed through my body.

His face wasn't the warm old face Karl used to have. This man, instead, was cut and chiseled and full of scars. A war veteran no doubt. His eyes were light grey and piercing and a cold logic ran behind them.

A chill ran through my back as he waited for an answer.

"Ah..." I stumbled. "This store... The owner is a good friend of mine. And I was just wondering... if you knew what happened to him."

He lifted an eyebrow:

"A good friend... of you?" He looked incredulous. He paused and then continued:

"I'm sorry young... man...

The man who owned this store has been reported missing for a fortnight and I have no idea whatever happened to him. His wife made the offer to sell the shop since she didn't have the skills to run it or anyone else to take care of it; and I ended up buying."

"As I feared..." I thought.

This new owner had not been unkind in his tone and even thou he hesitated while sexing me, he managed to stay respectful throughout.

I smiled at him politely: "Oh. I see, thank you."

I twisted myself on the balls of my feet, my longish hair flowing with the swift turn of my head and moved for the door.

His voice made me stop: "Hey, boy!"

I looked behind me, turning my head over my shoulder to look up at this strong cold man.

"Yes?"

He smiled, a weird smile, forced maybe, cold for sure, but amiable, nonetheless.

"If the owner had really been such good friends of yours before... Maybe I could become your friend now."

I was caught by surprise and speechless for once. Simply nodding at him slowly.

"I am Rickard" he said.

"Pleased to meet you..."

I was about to give my name when something terrifying happened.

My eyes went wide, and for a moment I was breathless. The store was caving in, the ground was swallowing me whole. A darkness had gathered inside the store and my thoughts grew into a frenzied panic.

I turned and placed one foot in front of the other, panting. As I left the threshold of the store, I saw that the sky was still in the same place, the ground was still under my feet. My hands still responded to my commands when I ordered them to hold my face as I began to well up tears.

"If everything is the same... then why... why!"

I sobbed and curled myself into a ball.

"Why can't I remember my own name?!"

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...

As my mind reeled with effort, my consciousness opened hidden places inside, archives and memories. All of them empty of the one thing that surmised my identity. My breathing quickened and the world started turning swiftly around me.

My eyes were opened wide, but all I could see was blackness. Something was happening to my brain!

Before I could reign in my thoughts or make sense of anything that had happened to me. I felt the pain.

The wrenching, colic from before. Starting from the place where that imaginary womb must be and then extending in waves, further and further through my body.

I opened my mouth, a noiseless scream spewed forth as the second wave of pain made my fingers into claws and I dug them into the soft grass below. I could feel my body changing. The weakness in my legs and arms accentuated, the length of my hair appeared to increase, my very waist tightened and constrained as the contraction roared through my body.

Then another pain, higher, in my stomach. A hunger.

The hunger, that terrible hunger. I could no longer wait eight hours for my next meal. I most likely couldn't wait more than ten minutes, before that desperate hunger sent me rifling through trash bags or whorehouses.

The third wave of pain hit, and then the forth.

I could feel something around me, soft and nice. Like warm milk, swallowing me in comfort. I was still under the contractile pain of the waves, but in this place, I handled it much better.

Something was on my lips when the fifth wave hit. Tasted like of a sour-sweet and viscous thing, but I swallowed it gladly. It didn't satiate my hunger, but it improved markedly.

When the seventh wave of pain finally died down the world started to come back into view:

A very dark room with a sheet metal roof and an old, unbalanced fan, slowly turning high above my head.

The ringing in my ears had died down and I heard the rusty whine of the fan and the tapping sound of boots against both wood and metal. Around me I was in an old bed, large enough for a standard-sized adult, around me it nearly swallowed my frame whole.

My breath quieted down; my pulse came back to normal. The pain was gone once again.

The muscular man came back to the room. As I lay on the bed, with all my strength gone, he looked a giant. His face half hidden in shadows as he approached me.

I felt a pang of fear.

"I am completely powerless right now... If he tries something... I don't think I can even scream."

He simply sat down beside me, his huge torso still looming over me. But his posture was relaxed and non-threatening.

"Are you still hungry?" he asked, plain.

I felt the rumble in my stomach, whatever he had given me was not nearly enough. I nodded.

"I am sorry for giving you that before. I know it's disgusting, but you needed the calories quick, or you would have become uselessly tiny."

He said pointing at a bowl of grey goo with curds on its surface.

I attempted to look down at my body to check on the changes again, but I barely lifted my head off the pillow when the weariness got me again. After regaining my breath, I meekly asked:

"How much did I change now?"

He looked at my body, stared up and down; his gaze made me feel objectified, but he also had some pity mixed with his lust. He then said calmly:

"You have become more beautiful..."

He didn't seem to have put any emotions behind his words, he simply stated the fact. But I blushed all the same. He took notice of it and corrected himself.

"I'm sorry." He spoke.

"Your shape is womanlier... and you have lost a few more inches in height, but not too much. I expect everything you care about will still be there in one piece."

"Ah... ehh..." Still blushing a bit: "Thanks. I guess... for the food I mean. And the shelter. That too"

He drove his gaze into mine, his cold grey eyes seemed hurt, like he was reliving a bad memory.

"You are welcome to rest here, as much as you need. I know how hard the change can be."

...

An hour later he had given me some bread and some old, salted meat he had; and I had managed to recover a good portion of my strength. Enough to sit up on the bed and explore the room a bit.

It was cramped, perhaps a few meters across at most. The bed occupied most of the space. On a rusted metal nightstand were a few printed photos and some electronic devices and by the back corner was an open hanger with a few working outfits hanging and a large pack with military designs.

I looked at the pictures first, finding a couple of shots of the man ten or fifteen years ago, with an older man who looked much like him and a much younger girl with the same grey eyes and long dirty blonde hair. They all seemed very happy in the picture.

Another one was of four men and a woman, all dressed in dark green with military insignias. I couldn't recognize the insignias as any country that I knew of.

"Maybe the private army of some High Lord?" I wondered.

The third photo had a more recent version of Rickard and the young woman, she must have been ten years younger than him, but they looked very good together. A very happy family, if small.

"She was my sister..." He said quietly.

As he came back with some coffee for him and some tea for me.

"Oh... I'm sorry." I said instinctively.

Not sure whether I should even ask what happened to her. Instead, I merely grabbed the cup and drank the tea.

"You know... I hope you don't find it weird." He said. "When you were turning, you reminded me a lot of her."

This man was indeed weird but not because of what he said. It was more about the way he said it: Every word came out stilted, sad, cold, logical and distant; but in his actions, he was very warm.

I sat up in the bed and curled my knees to my chest, making myself into a ball as I sipped the drink. It was bitter and burnt, but warm enough to be somewhat enjoyable.

"It's okay" I heard my feminized voice saying. "I don't find that too weird."

Since he stayed in the silence of remembrance, I decided to risk the question:

"Do you want to tell me what happened to your sister?"

He straightened up and looked straight at me, closing his shell: "She was infected. Like you."

I had not really considered what effects the virus would have on a biological female, but judging by his reactions, it couldn't be good.

I saw his pain. His demeanor was much more of a soldier, and I had been around them enough to know when to change the subject:

"And... so... why did you buy the shop?"

He seemed to understand what I was trying to do. But he decided to answer a question with another question:

"Do you want to work for me?"

I was startled, what did that even mean to him?

"I can't pay much, but it's not like you will get work in the community center looking like that..." He said staring now at my weakened arms and lithe torso.

"I don't want to end up seeing you whoring yourself out in the streets."

It hit me like a truck.

"Was that really all this body was good for now?!" I thought.

But then I looked down, thin arms and chubby weak thighs. I am made to appear fertile and soft, and that's it.

The next question wasn't really what I expected to be asking, but I had to know:

"Why would you offer me anything?"

He reached forwards and cupped my chin in his hand, lifting my face slightly with those huge tough hands of his.

His index finger then touched my nose and the right edge of my mouth. I was red with blush, even though his grasp felt safe and innocent.

"This."

He said, as he traced from the tip of my nose, through my lower cheeks and chin.

"It's the same as Fiah's."

He released my face, and I looked straight into the picture: That smiling beauty with rounded cheeks, thick full lips and a round button nose. Her smile lit up the whole image.

"She was beautiful." I said.

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The next couple of days seemed like a surreal dream.

I had been too afraid of heading out into the city proper to go back to my apartment. So I ended up staying with Rickard in his shop/house hybrid.

He moved some old couch to the back room and managed to squeeze it into the tiny space beside his closet. There, curled up into a small dirty couch at the feet of his bed I got my first night's sleep as a sissy.

At the very least I didn't go hungry to bed, a feeling I had not had in months.

Rickard had been adamant that I eat as much as I could before going anywhere, specially to sleep. And even if his food consisted of mostly preserved meats and what looked like grey dog food I did as I was told.

In the mornings I would wake up starving regardless. But at the very least my body didn't seem to be getting either weaker or smaller. Still just an average female height, with ever thicker thighs and wider hips.

He had me run errands for his store all throughout the day. Serving as his assistant, courier and general-purpose maid.

He had changed the small tool shop into a full-on smithy: A large forge had been built out of heavy red brick in the back wall on the outside of the store, and he was constantly feeding it with either coal or small gas tanks. All of it I was supposed to bring to him and keep somewhat organized.

The acrid smell of coal smoke slowly started to seem safe and familiar.

"People don't know how to make anything anymore."

He would complain often, as people asked him to make a particular tool, knife or part.

"All of them are just being fed what the Lords throw them, like dogs."

He seemed to hate the Lords with a deep passion.

The Lords and High Lords were the owners of the great companies throughout the world. Ever since most of the working class got replaced by automation, the Lord's power became ever more overbearing. Their titles as CEO's were no longer enough for such supreme beings and they started to title themselves and their heirs as the Lords of old.

Countries even started to sell, loan or yield towns and cities to the Lords and soon enough a whole new feudal system had been born from the ashes of capitalism.

Some countries still held themselves strong, the great powers of the twenty-first century; But even they became pockmarked with a dozen or so missing cities, towns and territories yielded to one company or another.

Some ancient people still begrudged the companies, saying things like:

"They took over our freedom."

But it was strange to see this kind of vitriol in someone as young as Rickard.

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It was the morning of the third day. And I woke up hungry as ever, wrapped in the threadbare rough linen dress that Rickard had given me the first time he sent me out for an errand.

"You need something plain that will hide that figure." He said as he gave me the dress.

His voice stone-cold as ever. But his mention of my "Figure" made me blush once more.

I still didn't find him physically attractive. He was strong, tall, and with a confident look about him. But still my male mind didn't quite see him as something I would like bedding. And I was very glad about it.

But his actions: always so protective towards me, gave me strange butterflies in my stomach.

"Can you fall in love with someone that you find ugly?"

I wondered silently as I put on the long square dress that fell all the way below my knees.

As I walked out of the small shop and turned around tracing the outside wall; I started hearing the beating of his hammer at the forge.

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I slowly paced the perimeter thinking about the strange dreams I had had ever since I arrived at the sanctuary plaza:

Twice the dream had been exactly the same. I was standing in front of a huge building. A great dome of oily black stone that shone in the pale silver light of the moons.

At first the building was far away, surrounded only by the empty flatness of what looked like an endless saltpan. A thin sheet of water covered the surface of the endless expanse, and its reflection doubled the size of the sky above, mirroring each star and all twelve moons in the sky.

In the blink of an eye, the building was now right in front of me. Rising so high above my head that even the dome was completely obscured by the huge looming doors rising featureless ahead.

As I got closer to the doors, white stone reflected the images like a great white mirror.

In that reflection I saw myself: a man still, my body strong and lean with muscle a silhouette confident and with hidden power. The face, however, was indistinct, and no matter how close I got to the door, I couldn't picture more than the outline of the head.

Instead of my face, a single distinct feature appeared in the door: breaking the smooth mirror surface of the door was a hook, like the one where a doorknob ring would be placed, but tiny, only a few centimeters long. On it, instead of a large iron ring that would serve to announce a petitioner with a knock, was a tiny ring, delicate and beautiful. Black metal shining in the pale silver light.

It would be so easy to knock on this door, to move that tiny metal ring and announce my presence to whatever was inside. These doors would open for me, I knew, and whatever was inside felt warm, soft, and so inviting.

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...

When I finally reached the forge, I almost saw Rickard beating on what looked like that ring, until I realized that it was a large horseshoe.

"Hey there."

He said, not missing a beat, keeping his hammer on the constant rhythm of the smiths.

I still couldn't remember my name and try as I might I wasn't going to make up one that seemed familiar. So, I was resigned to waiting at least until I could go to my apartment and find some ID or at least my phone where I had all my data.

"Good morning, Rick."

I said, my voice sounding ever more girly. Now not even my morning voice had any hint of manliness in it.

"Have you eaten?" He asked, like always.

"I will." I said.

Feeling a little bit like a child.

"After you eat I will need you to go to the center and talk to Lisa. She has some specs that I need for a part."

"Oh..." I blushed immediately.

Lisa was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful women I had seen in a long while. An athletic build and strong legs, with great abs and no shame about showing them to everybody. And a true female, no sissy at all, she didn't even had a hint of the virus in her.

As far as I knew she was one of the shot callers in the community and always seemed to have an intensity about her. I might have forgotten my own name, but her face and my primal reaction to it was still with me.

"Sure Rick." I said, a bit giddy.

He looked up at me, recognition in his eyes and smirked.

"After that bring me another basket, please."

"Sure thing!" I said and picked up the large wicker basket coated in black coaldust.

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...

Walking around the plaza wearing a dress, even one as long, square and plain as the one I was wearing, still felt quite weird.

My feet, now in ever-smaller flip-flops. My smooth, hairless legs were exposed to the temperate morning air, my cock and balls covered only by a tight panty.

"If they think you a sissy, they will treat you as such. Hide it away." He had said.

So, here I was, dressed as the poor daughter of the town's smith, walking the shanty town in a brown dress and carrying a wicker basket full of coal dust.

"This is all too strange to be true."

I thought, as one of the surveillance drones focused on my face and then zipped away. Its chrome and white smooth curves contrasted starkly with the rusty zinc roofs and bare concrete of the buildings around.

Entering the community center felt as strange as coming back to a childhood home after growing up. Although, I was now two feet shorter, instead of taller.

The soft light and warmth from the people around me took me back to a better time. Where I would come to this place hungry and leave with a belly full and expectations for more work the next day.

It was as much a tavern as a notice board, as much a restaurant as the lobby of a trade organization, and Lisa was always close to the center of it all.

There she stood, behind a bar and to the back of a long hall with many tables and benches. She was not serving people, but rather watching, supervising.

Her arms crossed over some sports bra, her belly and shoulders bare and rippled with muscle. At her waist a black leather pant that barely covered the "V" her abs made as the reached her hips. She brought her right hand up to move away her deep red hair from the side of her face.

I felt my heart start to beat faster as I saw her. And was very glad to feel the attraction once more.

"I have not lost THAT yet" I thought.

"Ah! You are the daughter I have been hearing about!" She said. Almost jovial, as if she was talking to a kid or a young teen.

"How old does she think I am?" I wondered.

But then as her eyes looked down at my face and stared at me with intent focus, I started to blush and fluster.

"She is so beautiful." Was all my mind could think about.

"Shy, pretty thing, aren't you?" She bent over to poke my nose.

Her deep creamy scent penetrated me. "Ah... amm... Yes.. I... yes."

She straightened up and roared with a deep laugh.

"Ha ha ha! I love a girl like you!" She squatted a bit to be face to face with me.

"If you were a bit older, I would fuck the shit out of you."

I felt the heat instantly rise over my cheeks, nose and forehead.

"You should really close that gaping mouth or I'll be forced to fill it with something." She said with a wink.

Before I could even think I heard a voice replying, without missing a bit.

"Oh please... Fill my mouth."

I was startled by the reply.

"Wow, so forward!" I thought, wondering who had said that.

Then I was even more surprised to realize that she was staring down at me, her eyes were wide as plates.

And I was smirking at her, the corners of my mouth were twisted up, devilishly.

"DID I SAY THAT?!" I screamed inside my mind

For once, Lisa was the one blushing.

"Oh wow little miss... That did surprise me!"

She said, recovering some of her confidence as she stepped back.

"Perhaps you are not as young and innocent as you look."

I simply stared at her silently.

"Where did those words come from? And what do I say to her now?" I tried to remain unmoved, hoping that my face would not betray my bluff.

"Well, never mind. It would be very impolite to fuck the daughter of my business partner."

She sighed and gave an exaggerated shrug, trying to pass it as jest.

"At least not without warning him first."

She became much more relaxed after that. And I even managed a few short replies without losing the confidence that I had gained at the beginning of the conversation. By the end of the talk, I had acquired what Rickard had sent me to get, and I had managed a longer conversation with Lisa than ever before, when I was a man.

"Goodbye little miss."

She said with a kiss on the cheek and with the same joking tone as before she said: "Perhaps next time you'll bring a shorter skirt and nothing beneath."

That did make me blush once more. But I decided that I would think about doing just that.

"Just to please you."

The voice said, coming from my mouth in flirting youthful tones.

As I walked away and headed to the resource depot holding my large wicker basket at my side I noticed a slightly larger swing in my step.

"Is this also part of the changes? Where did those words come from?" I wondered.

As I left the center, I started to notice something else. People were staring, a couple of eyes every so often. But now, more and more.

"My body could not have changed; I haven't felt the waves today. Am I giving some signal that I am aroused?"

I quickly glanced down to check if I was building a tent in my panties. But either they were tight enough, or I had lost more of my ability to stiffen up. Because I still appeared flat and featureless under the large brown dress.

I decided the best thing to do was to get to my destination quickly.

No more than a kilometer was between Rick's smithy and the depot where the coal was dropped. But after picking up almost thirty pounds of coal the way back was hard and slow.

I had made the trip twice yesterday and quickly found that resting the wicker basket on my head and holding it steady with both hands was the easiest way to go.

So, there I was, slowly walking under the rising heat of near midday, wearing a rough brown tunic that had now, due to my posture, risen over my knees and large flip flops. Carrying a large wicker basket full of coal over my head, like the water carriers of tribal times.

Acrid coal smell enveloping me, black dust drizzling over my bare skin.

"I must be a vision of poverty." I thought, ashamed, as I felt the sweat on my back and waist start to make the dress stick to my skin and figure.

I started to feel the stares once again. And then I realized it. My hips, slowly shifting side to side, my feet always landing one in front of the other, my thick thighs rubbing together with sweat and making my dress slowly rise ever further above my knees.

"It's my walk. I might look young and innocent, poor and dirty. But I'm walking like a whore!"

A couple more stares fixated on me, and I tried to avoid them by following the edge of the clearing, rows upon rows of small alleys and bare brick and concrete. Shadows cast by the walls and tent-like roofs that hung over the entrances of the buildings.

A man shoved me to the side softly as he passed, and I ended up almost sticking to the walls as I walked.

"I told you she would come through here." I heard a voice say.

A man's voice, although young and sharp.

From the corner of a bare brick house two men appeared: One was smaller, but square and stout, strong arms and almost fat. Or as fat as you could get in this economy. The other was taller and leaner, looking disheveled and ragged.

"You were right" The stout man said to the tall. "Quite a nice piece of meat right there."

They were talking in low voices, but I could make up the words and their intent. Immediately I tried to turn into the clearing, away from the small alleys and into the safety of the crowd.

As I took a step to turn and head to the left another figure appeared. A slightly older man, taller than me, but not by much, wearing a dark hood over his head, only his grey and white beard poking through the shadows.

"I can help you with that heavy basket if you want."

He said, trying to seem friendly, but masking his threat with too little effort.

I stopped in my tracks and almost rolled on the balls of my feet to turn back. When a hand placed itself on my waist, grabbing me from behind and preventing my escape.

"We just want to play a little. Don't scream or ill shove something much sharper than my dick inside you."

All the blood left my face, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. "I was herded here like sheep."

The man grabbed the back of my dress with one hand, holding it tightly in his grasp at my waist high.

"Lets see what we are working with boys." He said in a gruff voice as he yanked the dress taught, the fabric sticking tightly around my curves, revealing my figure to them explicitly.

Wet fabric clinging tightly around my breast, my waist, my wide hips and thick thighs, and rising almost to the level of my crotch as he yanked the fabric up. My arms and hands still occupied with holding the wide basket over my head as I had been frozen in fear like a statue.

I saw their faces brighten at the sight. A moment of silence ensued as all their stares raped me with their intent. Three, four... no... six men were circling around me, their mouths either agape or twisting into wicked grins. None of them broke the silence, instead as they continued to gaze they inched forward.

The man behind me, his left hand now firmly grabbing my chest right bellow my left breast, his right hand keeping the dress firmly gripped was the one to speak.

I recognized his identity from his smell. He was the one to shove me into this alley.

"Now, little bitch... You are going to stay there, still and quiet. We are just going to feel you up a little bit and then you can run off home, nice and safe."

He then reached closer to whisper in my right ear. "Are you going to obey, little bitch?"

I nodded frantically, even thou with his tone I couldn't be sure whether he meant "Feel" or "Fill".

I stood there still as stone and tried to think about anything else. My eyes darting from one assailant to the other: the old man grinning with missing teeth as his hand reached my left thigh. It felt dirty as his fingers dug into my flesh.

The stocky man with his black patchy beard and bald head that closed up in front and placed his left hand on my face, squeezing my cheeks together and making my lips pout up under his pressure. His hands were covered in mud, and I could smell it as his skin left its mark on mine.

The man behind me, larger than the rest pressed his body against mine, and his left hand rose from the base of my left breast to cup it wholly. Squeezing it firmly.

All the while I was still just trying to keep balance and holding my position. Tears welling up in my eyes as they widened like plates and silently begged the shadows of onlookers far in the distance.

"I have to stay still..."

Fear was clouding my thinking, my heart racing, my mind going into deer-in-headlights mode.

"If I move, they will kill me."

A hand rode up the space between my thighs and slid its way around my panties.

"I fucking knew it!" One of the voices screamed. Then a sudden force and a loud noise. Pain in my back.

"They stabbed me! I moved and they stabbed me! I'm going to die!" My mind screamed in panic.

Blackness rose up around me as I felt the grip of death and the panic it brought.

But then I saw light pouring through the cloud as one of the men lunged down to grab me.

I wasn't stabbed, they had thrown me to the ground. The back smacked the cobbles, and the coal flew up into a thick black dust cloud.

"I fucking told you that she was a sissy!"

Said one of the men, now fully blackened by coal dust as he reached forth to finish pulling my panties down the rest of my legs. The light blue cotton, now soiled black, being dragged over my ankles and flew up into the air.

"Who cares about that?!"

Growled the man behind me, who was now towering above, my face resting almost at his feet. His large black boots looked the same as Rickard's.

"If you don't want to fuck a sissy that's your problem. But I..." He bent.

His face quickly flew down to meet mine, hovering a foot away from mine.

He was bald, large, black, and had a tattoo that covered half his face. As he grinned, I noticed his four canine teeth were replaced with gold.

"I will mold her asshole to the shape of my cock."

I squeaked a yelp, not a real scream. But a mere whimper. Too scared to do anything but flail my legs and try to curl them up towards me and move my arms to cover my chest.

His hands were faster than mine, however. In one fluid motion he had grabbed the collar of my dress, yanked down and ripped the dress nearly in half, from collar to navel.

My small breast exposed in a single flash.

He bit his lower lip while he raped me with his eyes. Then glared down at his comrades.

"When I'm done with her you guys can have your fill."

He scrunched his face as he looked at my thin waist and my thick hips.

"But first... she is mine."

His right hand moved to my neck and I felt It squeeze and pull as he was trying to pull me up and over his shoulders when I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye.

A thunderous sound, like a metal pipe being struck. Then a scream and turn.

The large black man wheeled me around in his shoulder and suddenly I was looking at the small crowd that was blankly staring at the commotion happening behind me. His left hand holding me tightly by my ass, pressing me against his shoulder.

"Drop her!" I heard a voice scream. Deep tones, full of anger and authority. Reminding me of the voice that Lords used to address us in their communiques.

"Fuck you!" Another voice screamed. Not the man holding me, but another. The same voice then screamed again as a wet thud and a loud crash sounded.

"He he he." Laughed the man holding me by my ass. Then I was falling, the ground rising up to me as the cobbles, coal dust, and red dirt received my naked body.

I just managed to turn around to glimpse a man: Shirtless and full of battle scars, his dark green military pants covered with bloodstains. His muscles rippling with sweat and splashes of bright red. In his right hand was a three-pound smith's hammer.

His grey eyes, cold as winter, pierced the air as they stared unflinching at the black man.

"She..." he started, cold as ever, but threatening as death itself: "Is mine."

...

...

...

Something had locked-in inside me when he had said those words.

The man had felt their power too, and he decided I was not worth getting killed for.

In the end, Rickard's arms had picked me up effortlessly and brought me back to the store. A crowd of onlookers staring blankly as five men with broken skulls were left bleeding on a large stain of black coaldust on the red dirt.

All the way back home, carried in those arms I kept my gaze locked on his face. His eyes were unflinching, and they never looked down at me. Constantly scanning for more threats.

Constantly keeping me safe.

His sharp angular jaw, just slightly softened by the short stubble of grey/brown beard. His military cut, just slightly longer than the usual, and disheveled from the fight. His thick neck, full of veins, and the sharpness of his collarbones as the muscles dove beneath them to where they anchored to the bone.

He was a man. A true man's man. He was not beautiful. Not like Lisa was.

"So why am I having the same feeling now as I was having when looking at her?"

"I am his." I thought.

Looking at his face and remembering when he claimed me as his property.

I felt again something lock-in deep inside me. Something had changed within me. Something integral had been given over to the virus; Permanently.

He had put me down once again on his bed, his scent swallowing me as he covered my naked body with his own blanket.

"He is marking me." My mind whispered.

He went away and then came back with a soft cloth and warm water on a basin. There in his room, sitting at the edge of his bed, he washed the blood, dirt and coal from my body.

I was completely naked and exposed in front of him. But his eyes moved about me with care, and his touch was soft and warm and pleasant.

He wiped all the red and black from my skin and soon all that was left was the pale, smooth creamy texture of my hairless body.

He had never looked once at my eyes, and I never took mine away from his: His sad, distant eyes. He did it all as if I was his child. No lust was there to be found. Even when he turned me around and wiped in between my cheeks.

I was the one that grew ashamed as I realized that between my thighs there was now a stiff hairless dick, begging for attention.

"Ah!... I.... I'm sorry Rick!" I squeaked.

He looked down at it and then looked me in the eye once more. "It's ok." He said, covering my hips with a dry towel, slightly tented now with my dick underneath.

"I am the one who is sorry." He said gravely.

"I thought you would be safe here if we took some precautions. But I was wrong, and you almost got raped for it."

He was hurt, I could see it in his eyes. My male mind still found it strange to be so close to something so manly. But my hands moved on their own. My right hand found his cheek and cupped it softly.

"You saved me..." I sighed.

"I put you there in the first place." He replied.

"You can put me wherever you want... I am yours." Said a voice inside my mind. But it was too strange to say such words to a man yet.

"I am ok. Everything is ok." I said to him instead.

I saw him smile for the first time then.

...

...

...

The rest of the day he didn't let me out of his sight. And after a few hours rest he asked me to do a few small tasks around the house. More to keep me busy than for the value of the work.

When it was finally time to sleep, I found myself tossing and turning for hours, remembering the fear I had when the black man was grinning down at me. It was only upon thinking that I was safe at the feet of Rickard's bed that I found the courage to finally relax and glimpse a dream.

The same dream once again.

____

____

____

I was standing once again in the midst of that great and empty expanse. Cold, naked and alone.

The saltpan glistening under the light from the twelve full moons forming a ring above, and the million stars shining bright and colorful.

The place was dead and barren, nothing would ever grow again in this land. The earth itself had been salted and poisoned.

I took a step forward to the great black dome with the huge white door in the distance. From where I stood, the massive white door looked more like a tiny spec. And the black dome, oily and thick, looked like the jaws of a great monster.

It scared me. But there was nothing else in this land anymore. I was barren.

The tiny footsteps splashed on the brine pooling at my feet: They looked smaller than before, and the skin glistened with sweat and moonlight; creamy, pale and hairless.

Quicker than possible I had reached the door once more.

In its reflection there was no longer the square silhouette of a strong man. Standing in front of me was now the figure of fertile femininity.

"A lie." I knew.

The short girl with thin calves, arms, waist and shoulders; but thick thighs butt and hips, reflected in the mirror was not a girl at all. Only a thinly veiled mirage, as barren as the expanse around the temple and no female at all.

But it was the reflection I had, and there was no longer any fighting that.

From behind the reflection I felt the warmth coming from inside, and even the faintest glow of fire inside. I felt the warm air coming from the door in soft deep breaths, like a sleeping beast.

"If I beg for entrance... will I wake that beast?"

I wondered if I should stay outside instead, walk the barren lands until I was consumed by time and forgotten.

"What could be worse than that?"

I focused in on the door once more, and from the featureless surface a solid thing formed from thin air: Hooked on that door the way a doorknob would be hooked was a ring, a tiny ring. A ring made not to knock on doors, but to be worn on a finger.

The ring that had once been black was now full of color. In this silvery light, that made everything either black, white or gray, this beautiful ring still kept its colors.

As if glowing from inside, the ring that had once looked black now shone with the brightness of polished gold, and crested diamond.

It was an engagement ring.

I knew what I was meant to do now: that ring was not mine. At least not mine to wear.

That is the ring that I was meant to, in the future, give to the one I loved. This was meant for my woman.

And all I had to do, if I wanted to enter the temple, was destroy it.

My eyes filled with tears.

As I stared at the ring I could feel all the love and promise it held. I could almost see the face of the woman that it belonged to, she was beautiful and soft; perfect.

I wanted to go back with it, to take the ring in hand and go looking for that girl, beyond the barren fields.

"But it is I who is now barren."

I looked into the mirror of the door again: The thick wide hips, meant to resemble child-bearing hips.

"But they are lies."

No child will ever grow inside me.

I looked behind the silhouette, into the endless expanse of nothing that surrounded me.

"And I am as sterile as this land now."

I looked at the ring once more. The woman nearly materializing herself infront of me.

But I no longer deserve her.

I picture the large, happy family we could have.

We could have had.

I no longer deserved her.

She deserved a happy family, full of children and future. And she could never have that with a sterile toy like me.

The ring appeared in my hands. Held between my index and thumb I held it aloft.

The twelve moons seemed to circle in the sky, forming a great ring of light high above me.

A halo above my head.

"I wish for you to be very happy and have many children"

I gave the ring a firm press between my fingers.

"Just not with me."

The ring shattered into bright rainbow dust, floating upwards into the halo.

The great white doors creaked and swung. And from inside I heard moans and whimpers.

Something locked-in inside my mind.

_____

_____

_____

"Hey, hey, are you ok?" I felt strong hands shaking me softly.

His face frowned with worry. His eyes widened as I opened mine.

"Rick... Hello..." I whispered, something in my voice sounding even softer than before.

The lights in the room, coming from small gaps between the roof and the blocks, seemed to imply early morning. Pink and orange.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

Hearing no longer any hint of man in my voice. Now only a young girl inhabited my vocal cords.

"No, I guess not. You seemed to be having a nightmare."

Rickard's voice had lost some of its cold, stilted pattern.

"You were sobbing and begging" He said.

"Ah..." I sighed.

The dream grew muddy after the doors opened, but a deep sense of loss dwelled in my chest.

"I... Rick..." I looked around trying to contain the maelstrom inside.

"I don't want to lose myself."

Rick stared deep into my eyes, his rock-hard face seemed almost ready to crumble. He stood slowly.

"You don't even know your name anymore..." He stated, furious rage hiding under the surface.

"Hey..." I tried to speak, to calm him down a bit.

"No. I will not watch your identity be annihilated." He balled up his fists.

He stared down at me determined.

"We are going to cure you." He spoke.

My eyes widened, I was speechless.

"I am in love with this man." I realized.

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Part 3 should be released without much delay either.

Any suggestions and ideas on where the story might go in the future will be taken into consideration.

I hope to read many comments, they are all very welcomed. They fuel my drive!

Love.