A Lot to Assume

My heels clicked on the concrete floor of the tunnel as I walked towards bright lights at the exit. The thigh high boots were warmer to wear than I expected. It's cooler outside, so at least I have that to look forward to as I felt my feet starting to sweat.

The hem of my very tight leather skirt brushes against my upper thighs with each step. A skirt that barely cover the sheer black g-string panties I am wearing. I've always found that a strange word. Is it panty or panties? I can't help my mind wandering. It's not possible to have more turmoil going on in my head than right now.

The skirt is definitely short. Too short to even cover the tops of my stockings. The suspenders of my garter belt clearly visible. The matching leather bralette pushes my D cup boobs up and holds them prominently. On display and jiggling as I walked for the camera crew recording my "walk of shame" as it has become to be known in the entertainment industry.

It is the walk every loser before me has had to make. I've personally sent three such losers on this walk myself. Losing by itself is bad, but it's made much worse by the fact that just over an hour ago, I was a man.

I think back to where it all went wrong. Was it my training? Did I spend too much time running our gym instead of working out? No, I don't think so. I made it all the way up to second best in the entire world. You don't advance that far by luck. No, the true root cause of my demise started long before I was even born.

It really began in the mid 20s. The US plunged into a second civil war, opening Europe and Asia up to micro wars by aggressive "dictators". They sprang up everywhere, practically redrawing the maps on a monthly basis.

After a solid decade of constant wars, people became weary of it. It just fizzled out as their appetite for death withered away. Diplomacy and education provided the path to peace.

We were at the cusp of a new era. Where intellectual dexterity is as important as physical strength. Violence has become primitive and looked down upon. Sports like boxing and fist fighting have fallen out of favor. The old sports have made a comeback. Technology is jumping at an incredible pace, and intelligence is the new sexy.

The old sports are doing well Flourishing actually. However to satisfy the new hunger for intellectual stimulation as well as the visual theater, they have evolved.

Now it isn't enough just to be defeated. There has to be a punishment to go along with the loss. Punishment that twists the mind. Intellectual cruelty with a side of humiliation.

So, what is the punishment for the loser of the match at the top level of sports? Losing your very manhood. The technology now exists to transform the defeated into a genetic woman. A woman designed by the victor. The ultimate humiliation. It's like candy for the masses, and they eat it up. It's a booming business. Endless shows analyzing every contest, every transformation, every result.

Why does the winner get to design his opponent? Because he gets to do what ever he wants, short of permanent physical harm with his defeated opponent after the transformation is complete. "She" is contractually obligated to allow it for as long as the victor can "get it up". She even has to wear the outfit he chooses for her "walk of shame", which is the reason for my outfit now.

The Olympics are once again the ultimate level of competition. The best of the best vs. the best of the best. I compete in track and field. Specifically, the most difficult and demanding event of them all. The decathlon.

Preliminary competition pared it down to the best 16 in the world. Only 16 men made the Olympics. A huge honor with the highest stakes possible. Glory and fortune await the winner. Defeat and humiliation for the 15 losers.

The 16 of us were matched against each other in a series of one on one competitions. A single elimination tournament. I sent three of my opponents to the walk of shame, after I fucked them to my heart's content that is. I made it to the finals. 2

nd

best in the world is not spared the indignity the other losers suffer, and I was also transformed.

It wasn't without a fight. The decathlon is ten events. I started off strong, winning both the 100m sprint and long jump to put my opponent, Alexander on his heels. We split the shot putt and high jump before he took the 400m run, leaving me up 3 to 2 after day 1.

I smoked him in the 110m hurdles, putting him in a deep 4 to 2 hole to start the second day. Unfortunately, he rose to the challenge and took both the discus and pole vault to pull even. We split the final 2 events, javelin and 1500m to end in a tie.

However, there are no ties anymore. The producers simply wouldn't allow it. The tie breaker is Greco Roman wrestling. I was faster and quicker, while Alexander was bigger and slightly stronger. It was a balanced match. We went back and forth for the majority of it. Neither of us wanted to risk sudden death, so with time ticking away, I made my move.

My intention was to not leave him time to counter my move, letting the clock run out if I failed to get him to the mat. I thought I had it timed perfectly. I was wrong.

I felt my butt hit the mat a fraction of a second before the buzzer. Both of us froze as the judges reviewed the recording to make sure the decision was correct. Unfortunately, there is no going back, so they had to be sure. The transformation is irreversible. Once they hit that button and the nanomites injected into my bloodstream before the match go to work, there's no stopping it. If a mistake is made, oh well. Tough luck.

The announcement is made, and I am officially defeated. However, the biggest moments are yet to come. The moments that draw the viewers and get talked about for weeks to come. First, the reveal of the transformation data Alexander has chosen for me. He gets to choose my race, my size, my physical characteristics as well as saddling me with the sexual preferences he wants me to have. He even gets to pick my new name.

These will be dissected in depth by follow-up shows all week long. I've seen the 3 opponents he's defeated so far get transformed into a blonde Nordic goddess, a dark haired Hispanic beauty and a sexy black girl. He's been all over the proverbial map. I have no idea what to expect. I can't think anyway. I still haven't mentally accepted my defeat. My mind is reeling as the cameras move in close to catch my reaction as the transformation data is revealed.

An Asian named Jade. 5 feet 9 inches tall and 125 pounds is shown on the screen.

Tall and lean. I guess that's how Alexander likes them. I'm not thrilled about it, but there was never going to be a good answer. A 5 foot 9 inch Asian woman will stand out for sure. Probably his intention. More humiliating for me.

Physical characteristics are long hair, golden brown tan skin, big, almond shaped eyes, big pouty lips and long legs. But it's not only a physical trait. It's a mental imprint as well. For example, I will have long hair when the transformation is complete, but I will also have the compulsion to keep it. It will feel normal and right to me. I won't want to cut my hair off.

32D breasts and a bit of a bubble butt are the final pieces to my future appearance, as the 3D model shows. It's not good. Tall, slim Asians with D cup boobs don't exactly grow on trees.

I quickly forget about that as the final pieces of the puzzle are displayed. The preferences that will be ingrained into my personality. The desires that will drive me from now on. This is the height of the drama. This is what the viewers tune in for. If being made into a woman is bad, this is the humiliation cherry on top of the embarrassment sundae.

He got to choose 3 preferences. The first is no surprise. Libido boost, or slutification kink, as it's been nicknamed. Not just a heightened sex drive, but a supercharged one. I will crave sex all the time after this. It is an audience favorite. I expected it. I know it will be an anchor around my neck going forward, but there is nothing I can do.

The second choice is surprising. Fetish to wear slutty clothes. Not just sexy, but slutty. This is a dagger in my back. I didn't expect this one. It's bad enough I'm going to be transformed into a bimbo, but now I'm going to want to dress the part too. That means there will be no hiding or blending in for me. I'm always going to dress the part.

If that was surprising, the 3

rd

and final piece is downright shocking. Cruel even. Fetish for anal sex. That mother fucker is laughing as it is revealed. The audience erupts in cheers. They love it. I hate it, of course. That bastard is planning on planting his flag up my virgin ass once the transformation is complete. I can think of no greater humiliation. Even after today, I will continue to enjoy it. To desire it even. It will be ingrained into my subconscious.

"Fuck you! Ahhhh!" I got out before the nanomites went to work and my transformation began. Everything turned white. The only thing I could feel was moderate pain. The nanomites block the worst of it, but it also prevents me from seeing or feeling anything as the transformation happens. Just 15 minutes to endure and it will be over. 15 minutes until my manhood is only a memory.

I've seen 3 of my opponents transformed. It's not unbearable but it leaves you exhausted. It's the look in their eyes that I liked. The look when they realize what's coming. They hate it, but they know they have to go through with it. The screams each one gave me when I first penetrated them after the transformation was complete was the best part. When I took my prize.

When it finally stops, Lars, as I was known before, is gone and Jade laid in his place on the mat. Sweaty and exhausted, my hands went first to my breasts, then to my pussy, confirming what I already knew. I am Jade now. I saw all three of my opponents do the very same thing, and now I'm no different. It's a natural reaction. You are literally in shock.

And just like I had done after my victories, Alexander wasted no time. His cock was fully erect in anticipation of fucking the girl he had designed. Just like my opponents before me, I couldn't stay silent when he lined himself up to my pussy and pushed inside me. Half scream, half moan escaped my lips. I couldn't control it. The crowd went wild.

With the stored up energy of someone who had saved it up for a while, Alexander went to town on my new pussy. No time to get used to having one. A crash course, if you will. Holding me by my hips, his thrusts were deep and forceful. I closed my eyes, but I couldn't prevent the moans from coming out. You know what the worst part is? It's when you get the feeling that starts in the pit of your stomach.

It grows, spreading through my whole body. All the way to my toes, curling them up as it over takes me. I was going to cum. The whole world was going to see me becoming a slut. I couldn't stop it. With a deep, low grunt, my body announced it. I started shaking and my pussy convulsed.

"God damn! You are fucking tight!" Alexander cried out as I involuntarily squeezed down on his dick. Every sensation was new.

I was still shaking a minute later when he unloaded in me. It was horrifying. I FELT EVERYTHING! Every squirt and drop of his cum. I had no idea women could feel it that well. My mind was so disgusted by it, but not my body. My hips pushed back, trying to pump every drop out of him.

He doesn't even waste a second. Instead, he grabs me by a handful of my hair and pulls me up to my knees. The rules are he gets to go as long as he keeps his erection. I can't help it. I scream knowing what is coming. That just makes it easier for him to feed his cock into my mouth.

I mentally checked out here. My mind is overwhelmed. I become as much of a passenger on this ride as everyone else. My mind drifts off to somewhere else. Somewhere back in time before all of this.

I feel my lips around his shaft as he rubs my nose in his pubic hair, but my body is piloting the ship at this point. I'm thinking of my loss, and where I went wrong, not the fact that he was shoving his dick down my throat. It's better this way. I didn't want to remember that feeling.

His second hand also finds my hair and he literally starts fucking my face. I feel like I'm watching from the outside. My body taking it as his cock regains strength. It creeps further down my throat as it gets hard again. I am gagging but he doesn't care. Just relentless thrusting. It is as disgusting as you could imagine it to be.

"Mmmmmm. Those lips were made to suck my cock." He says just to me. "You're really good at it for it being your first time."

He grabs the hair close to my scalp and spreads his legs a little to get a good angle down my throat as he powers towards another orgasm. My eyes fly open at the realization that he's going to cum in my mouth, and I have to take it. I wish I could leave my body again, but fate is forcing me to live out my punishment first hand.

Just like when he fucked my pussy, my mind was horrified but my body had other ideas. My pussy was warm. It was making me horny again. This is the life I'm doomed to. My mind can only hold off my body for so long before it overwhelms me. The signals flooding my brain telling me I like it. I battle for control with no chance of winning.

His cum is hot in temperature. I didn't expect that, but it is logical. Salty and bitter. I find it difficult to swallow. It's less like a liquid than I imagined. I have no choice as he doesn't take his cock out of my mouth to let me spit it out. I have to swallow it to breathe.

He never stops. Fighting hard to maintain his erection. I know how this is going to end, and I don't like it. But my gate is already sealed.

He abruptly pulls his cock out of my mouth and throws my head to the mat. I'm coughing and trying to regain my breath as he moves behind me. He pulls my hips up high in the air, positioning me like the whore I've become - face down ass up - to the wild cheers of the audience. They know what's coming. I know what's coming. He laughs knowing what is coming.

I feel him push the head of his dick into my ass. My humiliation is complete. I'm a 3 hole slut.

I guess I should be thankful he went slow as he tried to maintain his erection. He buttfucked me very deliberately in the beginning before picking up steam as his dick grew back to full erection. I could literally feel it up in my stomach as he pounded my ass.

Without thinking I found myself pushing back on him. Urging him on. He never slowed down. I remembered that it will be his 3

rd

orgasm of the day once he finally cums. It's going to take a while.

"Fuck you!" I managed to squeeze out between grunts.

The bastard just laughed. Then as if he knew, he reached around and pinched my clit. It set me off again, and I had another loud orgasm as everyone watched him hammer my butt.

It was humiliating but he didn't do anything to hurry it along. Just took his time, plowing my ass like an Amish farmer.

I was both relieved and mad when he finally got serious. It was finally going to be over, but not before I had to take one more load of his cum.

"Smack!" his hand on my ass check echoed in my ears long before the sting of the slap hit my brain. I wanted to shout out. A defiant word to fight back, but my head snapped back as he pulled a handful of my hair. He held me there as several more slaps to my ass followed.

"I like how your asshole squeezes down on my cock when I do that." He chuckled in my ear.

Then I felt his elbows on my back as he held my hair tight as he gave me the finale. His final thrust was as deep in my butt as he could get. Then he pumped the sperm into my ass as he grunted from the pleasure.

He held me there for a minute, with his dick in my ass, basking in triumph as the crowd cheered. Then he pulled out and let go of me all at once as I collapsed onto the mat. I just laid there as he left the arena to collect his money. What should have been my money.

Still in shock, two attendants came out and picked me up, practically dragging me to the offices underneath the stands. At least I was out of the spotlight.

They took me to a room and told me to get dressed in the clothes Alexander had left for me. I slowly put on the humiliating outfit. Almost immediately my mind was telling me that I liked it. That I was born to dress this way. Despite everything that just happened, the clothes made me feel sexy. It was not something I could control. I knew it should be humiliating, but that part of my brain was turned off. It turned me on.

They applied makeup to me and showed me my reflection in a mirror. I admit, I am hot. I look like a beautiful prostitute. It was very disturbing looking at my reflection for the first time. It wasn't me. It was an unsettling feeling. The girl in the mirror moved as I did, but it wasn't me. I didn't feel like it was.

I sign the papers and get my much smaller payment for the match. Then, I'm sent on my way. Down the corridor for my walk of shame as the cameras record me. Undoubtedly this will be replayed over and over by people everywhere. It will be dissected frame by frame on follow up shows.

I reach the end of the tunnel and daylight. I quickly forget about the cameras as the crowds behind the barriers let me have it. Showering me with insults and curses, but I no longer cared. I know it's just the reaction to the match. None of them knew me before, and they sure don't know me now. I just hurry to the car waiting for me so I can disappear.