The Arrangement

Arranged marriages were everything in space now. They kept the various houses at peace and cemented alliances.

Usually, they were between people of different sexes, like when one of my sisters was married off to the Lundians. Sometimes, they could be between people of the same sex. If that's what my case could be called exactly.

"Did you hear, Paul. Father says you are to be married off."

My sister Juliet had red hair and was younger than me then and still hadn't been married off like my older sister.

"He says you are to be married off to one of the Tarakian boys who were here the other day."

I ran to find my father only to find out everything was true.

That is when I found myself in a particular school for boys who were going to become wives to various Tarakian lords.

The school was designed to help their transition and turn out incredibly sexy wives that fitted in with Tarakias' unique sexual culture.

I had to attend this boarding school for 4 years before I set foot on Tarakia for my wedding.

The first person I met was one of the maids, Patricia, who took me up to see the principle.

Patricia answered the door when I first knocked. I wasn't dressed as a girl then.

Patricia had brunette hair and was chubby with massive breasts that she sometimes used to sooth crying pupils.

She was wearing a French maids outfit.

She took me up to see stern Miss Cummings, who was sitting in her office wearing a red dress. She had her legs crossed.

She was reading some papers she held and was sitting beside her desk but not sitting behind her desk.

"Ah, you must be our new pupil. We've been expecting you," she said.

"Well, don't you have anything to say for yourself," she asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.

I was caught unawares, I thought she would do the talking. I fumbled.

"Well, em. not really. I mean, I don't really know what to say. "

"What do you mean you don't know what to say, " said Miss Cummings, "you do know what you're here for?"

"Yes," I said, "I'm here to help prepare me for marriage to a Tarakian lord."

"And how do you feel about being the wife of a Tarakian lord?"

"I don't know. How should I feel?"

"You should feel proud. It's a great honour to serve your house."

"Yes, but I'm a man."

I was still in denial at this stage. Miss Cummings went on and on about how I would be serving my house, and she said that I was only doing what women had done from the beginning of time.

She asked why I had come dressed as a boy still. That I was supposed to be already in women's clothes.

I wondered if there would be any end to this humiliation.

"Get out of those boy clothes now, Missy."

She was standing now.

"Oh, you don't want to make Miss Cummings mad dear," Patricia said, "she's liable to spank your botty."

Miss Cummings was looking cross, and she towered over me. I hadn't realised how big and physically strong Miss Cummings was when she was sitting down.

"Miss Cummings was a body builder, so she's quite muscley."

I was afraid of getting spanked by such power.

Despite being built, Miss Cummings also managed a feminine look as she stood there with her hips in mid sashay, towering in red platforms.

"Okay, I'll take them off."

I peeled my clothes, leaving only my boxers. My boxers were taken away, and I was given a girls' school uniform to wear and named Isabelle.

Chapter 2

The school was designed to change us, to socially challenge us and funel us down a different path. One of the ways they did this was by competition.

We had to compete to get money and other rights. And if you didn't compete, rights were taken away.

This week's competition was a fashion show, and everyone had to compete in teams.

Every team had to design an outfit that was sexy and that would please their future Tarakian husbands.

Nancy was originally a skinny boy. Now, she had large tits and shoulder-length blond hair.

She took over the proceedings and announced that I would be the model.

Rachel, a dark skinned, stunning Indian girl, disagreed with Nancy.

"She can't be the model. She hasn't femmed up any yet," Rachel announced.

"That can't be helped. You heard that the newest member of each group has to be the model, so it will be fair competition," said Nancy.

Nancy was wearing yellow pumps and a white miniskirt with vertical coloured stripes. She always stood out wherever she went. That was partly because of the way she dressed, but mostly, it was because of her massive 36DD tits.

"Yeah, keep staring fucker," she said to me as I realised I had been caught staring.

"You will soon see what it's like to have people stare at your tits dear."

"You love it really, Nancy," Rachel said.

Nancy was nearly ready for her wedding day.

"You realise Tarakian sperm changes you, Isabella, it changes your very dna into a woman."

"But I won't be anywhere near Tarakian sperm until I'm married."

"Eh, no, that's where you are wrong, dear," said Rachel, as she took my hand and led me away for a little chat.

Rachel was Indian. She was once an Indian boy, and now far along the way to a hyper cute Indian girl.

Rachel spent a long time perfecting her make-up, and her face was a neon work of art.

"You see, these schools are a cultural phenomenon on Tarakia. They turn out wives first, so they feed you the cum prematurely, so it works on your dna and changes you to a woman."

"It all sounds very unnatural, " I said.

"Oh god, no, it's perfectly natural on their planet. There is only one sex, and whoever consumes Tarakian cum, gradually turns female." Rachel said.

"The Tarakian elite, though, like to turn out their wives first," Nancy said.

"So we're expected to eat spunk," I asked, horrified.

"That's all we eat, don't worry, you will get used to it," Rachel said.

They could stick their fashion show. I was determined to find out what this was.

I ran down to the schools canteen. Class was still on, so the canteen was empty.

I ran into the kitchen, and it was full with a grey Tarakian mass of men.

The maids were crouched around them engaged in a great labour. They had great big vats, and they were milking the Tarakian sperm into them.

I ran back out before I could make more sense of what was going on and ran back to Nancy and Rachel.

"Oh the bitch is back, " said Nancy.

"You know we want our leave soon, I want to see my boyfriend in the city," Nancy continued.

"You do not have a boyfriend," I said in shock. "What will your future husband say?"

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him."

"You're a stupid girl, Nancy. You know you're going to get caught," Rachel said.

She continued:"You know what they do to cheaters!"

"Only if you get caught silly," Nancy said.

"No, this week we're going to win this fashion show, so I can go and see him."

"I hope you're using a condom. You're far enough gone that you can get pregnant. "

Nancy said she wasn't stupid, and Rachel stated that she wanted a pass to go and see her family, who she was now speaking to again after the feeling of betrayal had vanished.

Rachel had told me on many occasions that she felt very betrayed to be sold off as some breeding stock. To be converted and then breed like one of your sisters was something else, but Rachel had grown closer to her sisters because of it.

I began to think of my sisters. To think what it must be like to be married off, I guess I never thought of it before. They must wonder about the Lord they are getting married off to. I didn't know about mine, I made a note to ask Miss Cummings.

Chapter 3

Lunch started well but then deteriorated. With all the smiley happy faces in the canteen, I began to believe it was a hoax that we were essentially fattened with Tarakian cum to create great boxum wives for them.

But no. There were vats of gloop and a queue of people dressed as girls, but in various stages of transformation.

I didn't know what else to do but to take a bowl and stand in line too.

Spunk was being taken out with giant soup ladles and splashed in each bowl by the maids behind the counter.

"They feed us this to begin the process," Rachel said beside me.

My turn came as if I was on an assembly line and cum was splashed in my bowl.

I walked back to the table with Rachel and Nancy.

"I can't eat this," I said as I looked at my bowl of white gloop.

"Oh, you will," said Nancy, "there is no other food here, and once you get a taste for it, you won't want anything else."

Nancy and Rachel were both eating their bowls of spunk. They were careful to catch the dribbles off their spoons by leaning over their bowls.

"Tarakian sperm is actually really expensive here because of the light speed charges," said Rachel. Both girls were now slovenly licking every last drop from their bowls.

"By the way, Isabelle, Tarakian husbands like their wives in heels. It's something you're going to have to learn."

"Especially for your wedding, it is traditional for the wife to be, to wear extremely high heels. They say that they go back to ancient times. "

Rachel said: "They are called chopines, Tarakian prostitutes used to wear them."

"Yeah, Tarakian Lords have sometimes turned their wives into prostitutes when their alliances have fallen apart."

I didn't dare touch my food. I pushed it away.

"You can take that," I said to the girls, pushing my dish towards them. Then, I ran away from them to Miss Cummings office.

I bardged in without knocking. I was crying.

Miss Cummings had a look of shock on her face, but she wasn't angry.

She sent the person, who she was speaking with away.

""Whatever is the matter dear," Miss Cummings said.

"I'm just so upset that I'm being married off as a wife and not a husband."

"Oh, don't worry dear, it's just something that is necessary to bring our two cultures together. Everyone on Tarakia is male, and when they partner, the partner who receives the sperm turns gradually female."

"So is someone going to bum me?"

"Oh, no dear, we're not savages," said Miss Cummings. "You're going to be fully converted. Just think about that, Isabella,

"You will be fully female on your wedding night, and your husband will be able to get you pregnant too."

"Isabella, you are going to become a Royal Tarakian wife and mother. "

She held me as I cried at the enormity of it all.

Chapter 4

The next morning, I was ravenous. I was in the queue for breakfast with Nancy and Rachel.

Breakfast was the same as dinner, though with the addition of coffee. My bowl was filled with thick white gloop again.

Although I was hungry, I wasn't that hungry, and I pushed my bowl away again when we were sitting down.

Rachel said to go on, that I might as well, I wasn't going to get anything else to eat. I knew this, so I stared at the gloop again.

Could I picture myself eating a bowl of man juice? Well, no, I couldn't yet.

But I was extremely hungry, and I wasn't getting anything else. So, I reached over and grabbed the bowl.

I brought it back. I decided to study it. I brought it up to my nose and sniffed it, and I was immediately aroused.

I couldn't help but think of the guys who made it. The grey Tarakian supermales. The perfect male body.

They had stood around a bowl, like sweaty teenager boys in a dressing room and squirted their seed so I could have my breakfast.

It smelled of pure wicked filth. Things I hadn't imagined before, but I was imaging them now.

I shook myself and snapped out of it. I had never experienced anything like that before. What was that!

Nancy gave me a knowing look and laughed.

She really wanted to win that fashion show because she wanted passes to see her boyfriend.

"I brought you some Tarakian heels to start you walking in them. Why don't you put them on?"

I looked around. This was a very public place. Everyone was there. Pupils and teachers. I felt as if all their eyes were on me.

"Well, wouldn't it be better to try them on elsewhere?"

"But, there is so much room to practice here, and the rows between the tables almost serve as a catwalk."

Other newbies were being forced to put on heels".

One guy looked up at me sheepishly while wearing a short white micro dress.

He was embarrassed that he'd given in.

Nancy threw the heels down on the floor.

The heels were Tarakian teethers, a special type of heel designed to raise and present their property, to display their wives.

But they were also designed to be difficult to walk in without a great deal of feminine balance and grace.

Nancy stood up and pulled out a cane. She pointed it at me and swiped me over the face with it. It stung. I looked at the teachers in their fine gowns and 1950's hair dos that were in fashion now.

They nodded at Nancy approvingly as she swiped me on my knuckles this time.

Someone from each team was standing with a cane now to guide the new charges.

I grabbed the heels. They were shocking. They were high and tilted, and I knew my feet would be drawn to slide down them.

I took off my shoes and socks and curled my newly bared toes to fit into the heels.

I tilted my foot and slid in, and lifted my other foot to the other shoe. I got the immediate sensation of tethering on the edge of falling.

These were incredibly difficult to walk in.

Nancy spoke.

"You really have to stand up very straight and ladylike in these."

She made an exaggerated expression by lifting her arm and straightening her body.

I noticed that one of the other models got wacked when they didn't comply fast enough, so I immediately obeyed.

Nancy explained that "the only way to walk in these was by an exaggerated femininity."

The only way to avoid the slope of the heel putting me off balance was to stand very very straight.

"Now you need to start walking. It's very simple. Just go heel to toe."

I started walking.

I was walking down between the rows of watching pupils and teachers.

My face went red because I was very shy, and these heels raised me up on a pedestal in front of everyone. They tilted me and made me walk like a girl.

But not only that. These shoes were clearly slutty. Like trampy. And I had to walk almost with my head tilted back.

Nancy said to shorten my stride.

"Little tippy tap steps, Isabelle."

I shortened my steps but tried to resist the girliness of fast tippy tappy steps, but Nancy noticed and asked me to hurry.

I tippy tapped with one hand on my waist to steady myself. It looked confident, though, so I got a clap, and Nancy was thankful for the points we received for the performance from Miss Cummings.

Nancy explained to me when I got back to our table that it was tradition for every newbie to be assigned a breaker to help them transform and that she had been assigned to me.

She explained that some breakers could be really sadistic and that they often loved their newfound power. Just to emphasise this, some breakers were now spanking or whipping their charges.

Nancy said she preferred a more modern approach that was centred more on learning useful skills. Just to emphasise this, some breakers were now spanking or whipping their charges.

She slipped her shoes off and took and presented her feet to me.

"My nails haven't sparkled for a while," said Nancy.

"You know, you have to do everything I say now. So, why don't you start by fileing my toe nails."

Her toe nails were faded pink but chipped.

"But I'm royalty," I said, "I can't be expected to do your toes."

"It's part of the training. They want you broken down by serving, as you'll have to serve your husband, but you'll be given the chance to get used to command again by being a breaker yourself before your wedding." Rachel was leaning back getting a foot massage from her assigned pupil.

"Your Royalty doesn't count in here, now take a file and get to work."

All the other seniors were using their charges in a similar way. Resisting was useless, so I took the nail file and tried to get in position.

Nancy was seated and pushed slightly out from the table to give me space. The maids were collecting the empty bowls and spoons.

I crouched down but found it extremely difficult in my heels. This was very demeaning. This was maid's work.

I had gone from a noble man, a member of one of the richest houses on this planet, to painting the nails of some hussy.

I asked Nancy if I could take off my heels as it was very difficult to crouch in my heels.

"But dear, you need to practice wearing them."

I decided to kneel as it was easier than squatting down while my feet were tilted from the angle of the shoes.

She presented a foot to me and told me to get working like a good girl, but before she did, she shoved a finger into my mouth.

It had Tarakian cum on it. I instantly felt lightheaded and arousal at the pungent taste.

Nancy, dressed in her orange miniskirt and low-cut black top, with chic jewellery and an immaculately made-up face framed by shoulder-length length blonde hair, give me a knowing smile.

Sudden, I wanted to do a good job of Nancy's nails.

I used some nail polish remover to remove the pink paint.

Nancy gave an approving smile when I picked a coarse nail file. I got to work roughly shaping her nails.

She lay back as I worked and talked to Rachel. She only stopped to point out that I could push her cuticles back to make the nail much bigger for nail polish.

I did what she asked, starting with her big toe. Then, I cleaned the cuticle area with my file.

I shaped the nails, and then I smoothed them out, and finally, I polished them until they were shiny.

Nancy said I had done them so well that it nearly seemed ashame to paint them, but she said that I had to learn. She passed me a bottle of pink nail polish.

I could smell the strong smell from the bottle when I opened it. I had already separated her toes with cotton wool, so I began delicately painting every single toe until they were a shimmering pink.

Then, all of a sudden, Nancy said, "Is that your sister, Juliet?"

Chapter 5

Juliet, my sister, was at the end of the hall. She hadn't seen me yet. I could get up and at least avoid the shame of being seen doing Nancy's toe nails.

I knew something bad had happened because she was dressed in a long, flowing black mourning gown that was held up by two maids to allow her to walk.

Juliet looked far more regal and commanding than I remembered. My main thought was to get away from Nancy's feet and the nail varnish, so Juliet wouldn't see.

What would she think if she saw me doing someone's toenails? How low can you get?

I could do nothing about the heels and girls' school uniform I was wearing. She was going to see them, of course, but that couldn't be avoided.

Juliet had her red hair done up in the noble fashion, and she had it decorated with gold jewellery but low key for a noble.

She gave a look of shock when she saw me.

"My God, Paul, " she said, "it's only been a few days! Could you not have held out."

"They don't give you a choice, " I complained.

Juliet rolled her eyes, "believe me, you could have resisted."

It felt awkward standing there in a skirt, blouse, and extremely high heels. I mean, this was my sister, and she didn't seem in any way understanding.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Juliet said.

"Father is dead."

This was something different

Chapter 6

The news was a shock. I can't say I was sad because, like most aristocratic fathers, we didn't have a strong bond. Never mind the fact that he broke whatever Father Son bond we had by betrothing me to a Tarakian.

You might very well ask why a Tarakian wouldn't want a woman instead of insisting on men turned into women?

Tarakian's didn't have women from birth and they viewed it as an abomination, so they would only ever marry a woman who had been changed from a boy by consuming their species cum. Tarakian's had set up special facilities to carry out those transformations for them.

Us boys would eat Tarakian cum until it's DNA would turn us female and then we would be transported as fully formed females, a luxury on Tarakia, for our weddings.

I was currently at one of those facilities sitting on my bed in the dorm hall beside Nancy and Rachel's bed.

My sister left soon after telling me the news. I didn't feel guilty for being releaved he was dead. I was so hungry that it was getting very close to the point were I would have to begin eating Tarakian cum.

I was saved by the bell. I didn't care that my father had died. I was happy because it was going to give me the opportunity to get out of here because I was now the eldest boy I could annul the marriage and free myself. I had to tell Miss Cummings the news.

Chapter 6

"Oh, you poor girl Isabella, you must be very upset at the news of your father?"

I was now standing in Miss Cummings office in front of her desk. She was wearing her principles red dress and had been interrupted reading a pupils report, for which she needed reading glasses.

I was impatient and wanted to get to the important point, namely, that I was free.

"Oh yes, it's really very upsetting," I lied.

"Yes, Isabella, everyone is here for you" she said with a look of concern on her face.

"Well, it's really been lovely here," I lied again, "but I really must be going soon to attend the funeral, and I guess as I'm the oldest male, now I can can annull my arranged marriage and wear men's clothes again?"

"But Isabella, you are betrothed. A betrothed can't annul her own marriage."

"But my father arranged the marriage, and he's dead now?"

"Yes, but he promised your hand in marriage to a Tarakian lord before he died."

I was extremely frustrated now.

"But who can annul the marriage?"

"That would be the eldest male, or eldest unmarried daughter. In your case, that's your sister, Juliet. If you get her to sign these release forms, then your marriage will be annulled. "

"But that's so unfair," I complained.

"That's how it is. Now, you can still attend your father's funeral, but as you are a betrothed, you must wear the traditional clothing, a black mourning dress, veil and hat.

Chapter 7

I took Patricia, the maid with me. Everyone else stayed behind. I tried to go back to our old quarters in the castle, but they saw how I was dressed.

That morning, before we left, I put on a black lacy dress that finished above my knee, dark black tights, and black high heels.

Patricia did my makeup dark, with a black lip stick that was perfect for a funeral. Tradition had it that when a betrothed went out in public, she had to wear a veil.

My sisters had to wear them, and now, so did I. I'd never thought about it before because I never had to do it, but now I had to do it.

Aristocratic society was pretty rigid and weird, and as I stood there dressed in my women's clothing about to knock our castle door, I had a bad feeling.

The fact that my face was enchased in a lace veil that went up to my ladies' hat made the bad feeling worse. I felt claustrophobic.

Norman, the butler, answered. He didn't really have anything nice to say to me, he just stood there grinning.

"Well, well, what is it we have here?"

"Oh, Paul."

He pulled up my veil to get a better look at my face.

"You know Paul, I always felt you were destined to be a Tarakian's breeding slut."

My face went red at the fact he was so direct and at the fact that he knew that I had lost my aristocratic powers now.

He told me to go round to the servants entrance, which I did. I went in and Juliet was waiting for me in the main hall with the coffin.

She was all dressed in finery and talking to two aristocratic women.

"Oh, you made it, Isabella," she said as she beckoned me over.

"You remember Paul, he's now Isabella and promised to a Tarakian," she said as she pointed at me.

I walked over to them, taking short steps because I was wearing very high black court pumps.

Patricia had warned me that in public, I was expected to curtsy to all aristocratics, including my sister.

So I picked up my skirt and dipped my knees to my sister and the other woman and man.

"Oh, surely you're going to sign his release forms," the fine robed man said.

"Oh, don't be silly, Robert, you know our house needs this alliance with the Tarakian's," said the woman, "and Juliet has authority now and why should she give this up?"

I knew a betrothed wasn't meant to reply because everyone knew what a bethrothed was from childhood.

The Tarakian's were a powerful race of warriors, and they had met with our species since hunter gather times, and they've always demanded a quota of young men.

Sometimes, they would promise to trade with a tribe and they would often have a party where the selected men were dressed in women's clothes, and they danced with the Tarakian men around the fire.

Tarakian women only existed for a while, and then they changed back to male, so seeing them was rare.

The change that Tarakian sperm caused to human males was permanent though, turning them female.

Tarakians had zero interest in a human female unless she was turned that way by Tarakian sperm, then she gave off an aroma, which was always on our sweat and which attracted Tarakian men.

And that aroma drove Tarakian men wild. So Tarakians have always desired us, but only the Tarakian ruling class could afford the cost of bringing us from Earth.

The man replied, "But you know the Tarakian's will make poor Paul nothing more than a sex slave, you know what Paul would become..."

He said this, looking into my sister Juliet's face in Ernest.

I felt this was my moment.

I spoke up for myself.

Chapter 8

The slap from my sister was swift and merciless.

"How dare a lowly betrothed address a better, " she shouted in front of everyone.

Everyone stopped talking and stared at the scene.

They all heard the woman call me, "a retchulant whip."

It was the same woman that said that I really must be punished.

My very embarrassing public spanking had brought me to my senses. I was now a lowly betrothed, I was ready to accept until, later on, my sister came into my room.

"I'm really sorry about that Paul, I just had to do that for the crowd, I can't look weak in front of them if you don't follow convention?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, " she said as she hugged me.

That's when she explained that she would come and rescue me just before the Tarakian lord bred me.

She said she didn't need the Tarakian alliance to hold for long, and that the Tarakian's had a particular ritual they conducted during their honeymoon.

Essentially, the Tarakian husband massaged his newly acquired human wife every night.

It was the sort of massage that was said to leave the wife quivering.

But no relief was allowed.

My sister said she would rescue me before he bred me on the final day, provided I did my best to make everyone think I was an exemplary slutwife. Then, she said the alliance would be ended and the marriage annulled.

"But I'll have been permanently changed into a woman by then."

"It's okay," Juliet said, "we can reverse the process, I just need you to pretend to go along with everything."

"So you expect me to eat Tarakian cum?"

"Paul, it is only protein, try not to think of where it comes from."