By Mindi Flyth
In Mindi Flyth's new pair of brief tales we cross backstage at a mysterious position the place misbehaving males are reworked into ladies.
We commence with the darkish story, "Orientation." A merciless guy pressured his Asian girlfriends to decorate up in schoolgirls clothes for his kinky thrills, yet now he unearths the tables have became and it's his flip to get schooled.
In the titular tale "A Day on the Feminization Factory" we meet Myra and Amanda, attractive, sadistic women who use bizarre technological know-how to alter unwilling males into girls and women. Breast growth, race swap, even age regression is all simply a part of the task. It's an odd technique to make a living... yet those women love their paintings.
Both tales contain grownup subject matters and are meant for a mature viewers. Approximate notice count number 8100.
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Extra resources for A Day at the Feminization Factory: 2 Transgender Transformation Tales
Everything else was smooth, and pretty, and dangerously seductive. Somehow, her faintly reddish skin did not disrupt this image, it only made her more alluring. Summer stood, running her hands over her black top. She straightened her back, shook her hair loose from its weak restraints. Blonde tresses spilled down to her shoulders. She found it fitting, in a sense. Black-haired demon, blonde sorceress. ” Summer did her best to sound commanding and in control. She did not feel like she did a very good job, and the light sneer she detected from the demoness confirmed her fear.
This completes you far more than jumping over a fire with a man who will never understand your art. You’re good at this. ” She whimpered. The words hit the surface of her mind, and then sank into her subconsciousness. There was nothing she could do to stop it. They cemented the suggestion and mind control that had already been exerted on her in a way she could detect happening, but could not do anything about. She did not want to do anything about it. The demoness was right, after all. She had never felt more complete, more accepted and intimate than in that moment, kneeling, servicing and worshipping Eliza’s shaft.
She tried to grind her legs together, but instead found her thighs pushing against someone’s canvas trousers. It took few seconds for that fact to translate properly in her mind. And even when it did, it was only a sort of weak notion or suggestion that she look down. Her head felt heavy, or her neck weak. She was not sure which, but it was a struggle to refocus her eyes to see what was going on. A large, well-built brunette stood between her legs, smiling deviously. Just as Jacqueline was looking, the six and a half foot woman unzipped her pants and pushed black boxers down to reveal a fat, plump cockshaft and an equally well-developed nutsack.