Brute Force

This is an untold tale of the first Gulf War. Sgt. Jeff Rikker and his men were captured while on patrol and subjected to terrors -- and pleasures --unknown to the Geneva Convention.

This little tale was my response to a rather unpleasant lurker on FictionMania whose idea of commenting on a story is to say how revolted s/he was that the transformee doesn't immediately raise holy hell and force whoever did it to change her back to the original male self. Or commit suicide in protest.

Warning: This story has some rather brutal "on-stage" sex.

Brute Force
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2001

Sgt. Jeff Rikker slowly opened his eyes. He was a prisoner. He knew that. He and his squad had been scouting a suspected base of the Iraqi Republican Guard when they'd been hit by some kind of sleeping gas. It was something new, something the officers commanding Typhoon, Desert Storm II, hadn't known about. At least, they hadn't told him about it.

Rikker's body felt odd, unfamiliar somehow. He remembered the stories he'd heard about Gulf War Syndrome, the mysterious illness that a lot of guys had brought back from the earlier war. Maybe they'd refined whatever caused it. He hoped not. His Uncle Max still suffered from the Syndrome.

Maybe he was just stiff from lying on the floor. He sat up slowly and looked around. He saw three other bodies — no, other prisoners; they were breathing. At least a couple of the guys had gotten away. He tried to stand, to go over to the others, but he was still too weak.

He looked around the room. It was just about what he expected: four bare concrete walls. There was a heavy metal door set in the far wall with a tiny window slot; no window in any of the walls, though. A toilet stood over in the corner — thank heavens — even if it was just a base to sit on with no lid. The whole thing was lit by a single bulb dangling about fifteen feet in the air.

He felt weak and his body ached. 'Better check for damage,' he thought. Nothing seemed broken, just stiff. His jacket and belt were gone, along with all sorts of useful things for just this sort of situation. His watch, dog tags, and school ring were gone, too, probably some guard's souvenirs. He was also barefoot, a good way to keep him from trying to escape.

Jeff still ached, but he wanted to check on his men. He carefully stood up. He walked slowly since he was still a little dizzy from whatever they'd gassed him with. He noticed that his T-shirt and fatigue pants felt a bit loose on him, but didn't think anything of it.

The nearest soldier, Roy McGill, a big red-haired Irishman, moaned just as Rikker came to him. "You okay, McGill?"

"Yeah, Sarge. Where are we?" He struggled for a moment, and then managed to sit up.

"Prisoners. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine; probably inside that base we were sent to scout." Rikker gave McGill a quick once-over as the second man stood up. He was dressed in his combat fatigues, the same as Rikker, but, somehow, he seemed a bit thinner, a bit less muscular than before. 'I must still be a little out of it,' Rikker thought.

They each went over to one of the other men. Tommy Danko, a squat muscular man rolled over and sat up as Rikker reached him. Sam Carpenter was still unconscious until McGill shook him into wakefulness. The Black man recovered quickly, though, and all but jumped to his feet.

"You see any way out of here, Sarge?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah; the door's going to open any minute now. They'll tell us it was all a big mistake, and we can go." Just as Rikker finished, they heard the sound of a key in the lock. "Spread out," he said, "and watch for an opening."
The men separated, so a single person coming through the door would have trouble keeping an eye on the four of them.

Unfortunately, two men came in, both wearing the uniform of the Republican Guard and carrying guns, Kalishnakov semi-automatics from the look of it, 80 bullets in 10 seconds. They pointed them at Rikker and his squad. One of the men yelled something in Arabic. A third man, slender and wearing a white doctor's jacket over his uniform, entered. He was carrying a tray with a pitcher and four cups.

"Sgt. Rikker, I am most happy to see that you and your men have recovered." He spoke English in a soft tenor voice with almost no accent.

"Rikker, Jeffery. Master Sergeant, U.S. Army. Serial num --"

"There is no need to be theatrical, Sergeant. We know who you are, and we have no intention of doing you any permanent harm."

"What do you want, then, and what the hell's in that pitcher?"

"Water, just water from a local spring. I assure you that we have added nothing to it."

"Right, like I'm going to believe you."

"Whether you believe or not is of little interest to me. The custom in this land is to offer water to one's guests. I am merely trying to be a good host."

"Okay, whoever you are. You drink some, and then we'll drink some."

"Certainly." The man smiled and poured some water into a cup. "Cheers," he said and he drank it down in one gulp. He poured water into four other cups handing one to each of the men. "And now you, Sergeant." He smiled. "As a sign of trust between us."

Rikker shrugged and drank the water. The others followed his lead. "Now what," he said, putting the cup back on the tray. Suddenly a wave of dizziness washed over him. "You bastard. It was drugged." He reached for the man who easily dodged. All Rikker could manage was to grab the man's cap. He pulled it off. A mass of black hair fell down over the man's — no — over the woman's shoulders. Rikker felt his knees buckling under him. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * * * *

Rikker felt himself lying on the floor. 'Where,' he thought. Then he remembered. 'Sucker punched again, dammit.' He felt a draft on his legs. 'And this time they got my pants, too.'

His head felt like he had the mother of all hangovers. He carefully opened his eyes. He was still in the cell. Somebody had turned the light down a bit, but he could make out three shapes on the floor. The two gunmen and the guy — no, the lady — with the funny water were nowhere to be seen.

He heard a groan, but it didn't sound like any of his men; it was too high pitched. He rolled over and braced himself with his arms to try to stand. As he did, he felt his hair down around his shoulders. That couldn't be right. He'd had a regulation GI razor cut when he left camp with the others. He looked down. His arms were a lot thinner than he remembered. Then he looked a little further down, down to his chest. "What the hell," he shouted, "I've got tits."

Rikker jumped to his feet. It wasn't a dream. He had tits, nice big ones, too, a C-cup easy, that pushed out the front of his T-shirt. He had a narrow waist; only the elastic of his boxers was keeping them on, and wide hips. A hand reached down into the shorts. They were gone, dammit. No nice, "Little Jeffie", just a very sensitive vertical slit.

He heard voices cursing and saw movement. The others were awake, too, and they seemed to be in the same lousy situation he was. The bulb brightened. He saw three very pretty women in men's underwear slowly standing up, looking at each other in disbelief as they did.

A tall, slender woman with fiery red hair half way down to her waist grasped her tits with both hands. They weren't as large as... his, but her nipples poking out her shirt were enormous. "Cripes, Sarge," McGill said. "What the hell did they do to us?"

"What the hell does it look like they did?" Danko was now a statuesque blonde with big pillowy tits and a mass of blonde curls. "We're broads."

"But how'd they do it? Better yet, are they going to change us back?" Carpenter's figure was as lush as Danko's; his head a ball of very tight curls. His skin had darkened, so that he looked as if he were carved from fine milk chocolate.

"No, gentlemen — or should I say, ladies, we are not."

The four transformed soldiers turned towards the door. The three Iraquis were back. The one in the lab coat now wore her hair down. The top two buttons of her uniform tunic were open, showing the curve of her small breasts.

Rikker took a step towards her, and both of her companions raised their weapons. "Look, lady, I don't know what sort of trick you pulled on us, but it isn't funny. You change us back, and I mean now."

"Or what, Miss Rikker? What will the brave American do now that I've taken away his precious manhood?"

"You come on over here, and I'll show you what I can do, you bitch."

"My, my, such language. My name, girls is Yasmin al-Mansr. I am a colonel in the Republican Guard and a physician courtesy of John Hopkins in your Baltimore, Maryland. You will address me as either Colonel al-Mansr or Doctor al-Mansr. As to what I did, I just gave you and your... men some water."

"Yeah, right. Water couldn't do something like this."

"Oh, but this water could. The Spring of the Maiden is mentioned in what you of the west call THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. Any man who drinks its water is transformed into a beautiful young woman."

Rikker looked for the pitcher. "And if a woman drinks it, she becomes a man, right?"

"That, I regret to say, is not true. I can tell you from my own experience that it has no such effect on a woman." She smiled, a cat playing with a mouse. "There is a way to reverse the effect, though."

"Quite a weapon; I suppose you'll be serving it the whole Allied forces."

"Alas, no; the water loses its power if it is diluted by more than 50 percent. In a year, we could barely collect enough to transform 100 men. Of course, it was more than enough to use on you and your squad."

"All right, doctor. My offer still stands. Come on over, and I'll show you what I can do." He crouched, ready to attack. "I beat you, and you change us back to the way we were."

"Such an eager young woman." She drew a pistol. "Perhaps, I should let Da'ud come over and show you what he can do." She said something in Arabic. The soldier on her left handed her his machine gun. Then he smiled and began unbuckling his pants.

"You can't be serious," Rikker said. "I'm... I'm a man."

"You were a man. Now you — all of you — are women."

"No," Sam said. "Change us back. You change us back right now, dammit."

"Perhaps, Sergeant, you will get a better idea of your fate if Da'ud demonstrates on one of your men." Al-Mansr said something more to Da'ud. He smiled and dropped his pants to the floor, stepping out of them. He walked towards Sam, who slowly began to back away shaking his head.

Da'ud lunged forward. He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and ripped it off in a single motion. Without stopping, he yanked Sam's shorts down to his knees, restricting his movement. Sam tried to push him away, but the tall man simply grabbed both of Sam's wrists in his one hand. He grabbed Sam around the waist with his other hand and pulled the transformed man to him.

Sam kept yelling "No, No!" until Da'ud kissed him savagely. Then Da'ud bent down and began to suck at Sam's breast. Sam started yelling again, but after a few moments, he began to pant for breath. Da'ud reached down and touched Sam's groin. Sam shrieked in his new high soprano and tried to twist away, but Da'ud held him too tightly.

He forced Sam back until he was trapped against the wall. Da'ud yanked down his own shorts past his knees. They fell down around his feet, and he stepped out of them. He was enormous, at least ten inches. He held his shaft, rubbing it up against Sam's new vagina for a few moments before he let it slip inside.

Sam's eyes grew wide, then closed. He shook his head back and forth still repeating, "No" as Da'ud began thrusting in and out. Sam kept shouting, but, after a bit, his body began to respond. His hips were matching Da'ud's thrusts. His legs were wrapping themselves around Da'ud's.

Suddenly Da'ud stopped moving. He raised his head and made a satisfied grunt. Sam shrieked. His body was shaking. He pulled one arm free, but, instead of fighting, he put it around Da'ud's neck. Then he shrieked again and went limp.

Da'ud's penis slid out with an audible "pop." He gently lowered Sam, who was beginning to cry softly, to the ground. Sam curled up on the ground in the fetal position, knees tucked against his chest. Da'ud patted his head and turned. He walked back towards al-Mansr, stopping only long enough to pick up a remnant of Sam's T-shirt and use it to clean himself.

Rikker and the others hadn't been allowed to move during the entire incident. One step, and a tracer bullet left a hole in the floor near their feet. Now they ran over to their friend.

"It's okay," Danko said and knelt beside Sam. They'd known each other since basic and were best friends. "It's okay."

Al-Mansr laughed. "How maternal. Perhaps you should be next, Miss Danko. Ishaq here is most ready after the show that your friend and Da'ud just put on for us."

"Okay," Rikker said. "You've had your fun. Now turn us back."

"You Americans," al-Mansr said shaking her head. "You are stubborn even when it will do you no good. Perhaps I will let... no. Anticipation can be its own punishment. Ishaq will get his turn later. Many, many men here are waiting to sample your charms, and sample them they will. I promise you that."

"At least let me see to Sam."

"Very well. There is water, ordinary water this time, in that bucket." She pointed towards the toilet. There was a bucket next to it. "Use your clothes for a towel, if you wish. After all, it was you Americans who invented the wet T-shirt." She laughed and said something in Arabic. Da'ud opened the cell door, and the three left.

As she walked out, al-Mansr stopped and turned. "Today one of you was raped — raped! — while the other three stood and watched like the helpless females you all now are. Think about that, ladies, until our next meeting." She laughed again and slammed the door shut behind her.

Sam was sitting up now. He was holding his arms around himself and rocking back and forth. "Change me back. I don't want to be a girl." Tears ran down his face. "Please change me back."

* * * * *

Without their watches, it was hard to tell exactly how much time passed. Rikker, McGill, and Danko looked around the room trying to find anything that might be used as a weapon. The only thing they came up with was the metal water bucket. If you hit somebody hard enough with it, they might be hurt, maybe even knocked out. Against automatic weapons, it wasn't much of an equalizer.

Sam sat up now, silent and huddled in a corner. He had put his undershorts back on, but the T-shirt was useless scraps, some of them still slimy from Da'ud. Danko watched Sam shivering and trying to cover himself with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Danko took off his T-shirt and managed to rip off the bottom third of it. He went over and tied it around Sam's breasts like a bra or a bikini top. Sam looked down and whimpered when he saw how it looked over his breasts, but he didn't take it off. Danko put his own T-shirt back on. It was barely long enough now to cover his own breasts. Danko's flat stomach, wide hips, and narrow waist were all exposed.

Rikker looked at his two men and shook his head. 'They both look damn hot,' he thought. He put the thought away and began again to try to figure a way out of this. He was a man, dammit. They all were. There was no way he was going to let them treat him and his men like that. They'd get out and force that bitch to change them back. Then they'd trash the place and get home. The only thing definite was that Da'ud was reserved for Sam to deal with once they were changed back. Maybe the male Sam could help Da'ud get in touch with his feminine side. The only question was how. Short of a visit from the "machine gun and high explosives fairy," he didn't have a clue.

There was a noise at the door. Rikker pointed at McGill and Danko, and the three of them took up positions on either side of it. The door opened and one of the gunman, Ishaq, started in. McGill and Danko grabbed his arm and pulled him in. He stumbled forward and Danko jumped on top of him. Rikker and McGill braced themselves against the door and tried to force it shut. If they could keep anybody else from coming in until they got the gun, they'd have a weapon and a hostage.

The two soldiers pushed against the door with all their strength. They hadn't quite gotten it closed; there was no "click" of a lock. Now, despite their best efforts, it was slowly inching forward. They could hear voices, three or four, at least on the other side. They tried to find footing on the bare floor, but there was none. The door kept pushing them back.

Ishaq had fallen flat on his face. Danko jumped on top of him and applied a choke hold. It barely slowed him down. He braced himself with his arms and began to get up. Danko tightened the hold. Ishaq was panting now, but he was still moving. "Help me, Sam," Danko yelled. "You don't want to be a girl forever, do you?"

Carpenter was sitting in the corner watching the fight, his eyes wide. "H-help? Help you?"

"Yeah," Danko yelled. Ishaq was on his knees now and starting to stand. "C'mon, Sam. Show me you still got your balls."

"My balls?" He looked down and gently touched himself in the groin. There were no balls there, no penis. There was only his new vagina, still tender from what Da'ud had done. Sam looked up and growled. "My balls!" He jumped up and ran over to Ishaq who was just about standing. Danko was dangling behind his back, still trying to apply the choke hold.

Carpenter punched him in the stomach. "Give me back my damn balls, you Arab bastard!"

Ishaq laughed and pushed Carpenter away. The transformed man stumbled then felt to the ground. She jumped up and ran towards him again. He backhanded her, and she fell backwards to the floor. Ishaq reached an arm up and grabbed Danko's wrist. He squeezed hard, forcing Danko to break his grip. Then Ishaq pulled Danko's arm out from around his neck. He reached behind and grabbed the back of Danko's shorts. He yanked hard, and, a moment later, he was holding a squirming, kicking Danko in front of him by the shorts.

At the same time, McGill and Rikker felt their feet sliding along the floor. They turned and dug in their heels, but it didn't seem to help. Suddenly, the door fell back away from them. With no support — and still pushing in that direction — the pair lost their balance and fell to the ground. When they looked up a moment later, they saw al-Mansr standing in front of them. There were three men standing with each, each holding a Kalishnakov. Da'ud and the other two were smiling and leering down at the two of them.

"A very good try," al-Mansr said. "If you had still been men, it would probably have succeeded."

"We are men," Rikker said gritting his teeth. "This has gone far enough; you've had your little game. I demand that you change us back."

"Demand," al-Mansr laughed. "You are in no position to demand anything. And, if I have had my fun, Ishaq, Harun, and Salim have not." She shouted something in Arabic. The two men with Da'ud lowered their weapons. One handed his to al-Mansr; the other carefully put his on the floor near the door. They leered and began walking towards the transformed soldiers.

Carpenter looked at their expressions and panicked. He whimpered and quickly crawled back towards the corner. "No, no, please. I'm a man. Don't... don't touch me again."

Ishaq lowered Danko until his feet touched the ground. He stood up and tried to pull away, but Ishaq held tightly to his shorts. Ishaq reached out with his other hand and pulled Danko to him. He leaned down and kissed Danko deeply. The hand that had been holding Danko's shorts now caressed his butt. Danko squirmed, but he couldn't pull free. He felt a strange warmth in his breasts and his groin.

The other two men reached down and grabbed Rikker and McGill by their wrists. They pulled them to their feet and embraced them. Both of the soldiers tried to break free, but the two Arabs were far stronger than they were now.

"Let me go," Rikker yelled. "I'm a man. I don't want to do this. Change me back." He could hear similar words from McGill and both of the Arabs answering softly in their own language.

Danko moaned, and Ishaq stuck his tongue in his mouth. Danko wanted to gag, but he couldn't. The feelings running through his body were too much. He was having trouble concentrating.

McGill felt rough hands on his breasts, squeezing them, rubbing them. A fingertip moved across a nipple, and he shivered. "This is — uhh — isn't right." He tried to raise his arms to push the other man away. The man hugged Danko to his chest, pinning his arms. "I... we can't d-do this. I'm a m-m-man."

Rikker tried to break free. The Arab had grabbed both his wrists in one hand and was holding them against Rikker's back. It hurt. He felt a finger slide down along the side of his throat, and he moaned in spite of himself. He heard al-Mansr laugh. "When I get out of this, lady. I'm gonna make you change me back. So help me, and then I'm --"

"You will not change back, Sergeant. In fact, eventually, you may not even want to, though whether or not you do will not matter."

Rikker was about to speak, to challenge her again, when he felt a hand slip down into his shorts. A finger began to slide along the lips of his new vagina, and he shivered. "No, no, stop."

Ishaq broke the kiss. His leaned down and kissed Danko's exposed belly. Then his mouth moved upward. He pushed up the remainder of Danko's shortened T-shirt and began to suck his nipple.

McGill felt a hand on the back of his shorts. They were yanked tight and ripped away. The hand came back and began to rub his butt.

Rikker felt weak in the knees. He felt himself being lowered to the floor. He felt cold stone against his backside and realized that he wasn't wearing his boxers any more. Then he felt something, something new, rubbing against his crotch. His labia parted, and he felt it slide into him.

Danko was squirming, trying to understand the sensations shooting through his body. All of a sudden, he was on the ground, pinned by Ishaq's body. He felt something pulling at his shorts until they ripped away. Then something happened. He felt himself penetrated, as he had penetrated so many women. "No!" he screamed, but it was too late. He felt it move into him, in deeply, then began to slide back out. He moaned as the sensations grew even stronger.

McGill tried to get away from the Arab holding him. The man was too strong and held McGill against him with one arm. McGill felt the other arm suddenly slide down between his legs. It lifted one to the Arab's waist. McGill wriggled and tried to balance on one leg. Then he felt something rubbing against his thigh. It moved around, gradually getting closer and closer to his crotch. He recognized it, since, until today, he had had one of his own. The Arab's erect penis found the opening between McGill's legs and rammed inside.

The three soldiers tried to resist. They yelled that they were still men between moans, but the sensations racing through their bodies kept distracting, kept interrupting them. After a time, their bodies began to react to the feelings, and they moved their hips in time with the motions of their Arab partners. They screamed, as each one orgasmed, and all three felt their partners peak, felt the streams of sperm shooting into them.

* * * * *

Rikker looked around. He felt the cold floor against his back and his butt. McGill and Danko were lying on the floor as well, breathing just as heavily as he was. The three of them were drenched in sweat. Carpenter was still over in the corner, sitting on his haunches. His eyes were closed, and his fists were clenched. Rikker could see his lips moving, but Carpenter was speaking so low that it was impossible to hear what he was saying.

The three guards were using what was left of the American's clothes to clean themselves up. One, the taller of the two, already had his pants back on. They were laughing, jabbering away in Arabic. From the way they would occasionally point to him or to one of the others, Rikker got the feeling that they were comparing experiences. He studied the face of the guard who had attacked — had raped — him. When Rikker was back to normal, he was going to slice off the bastard's prick and make him eat it.

Al-Mansr said something in Arabic, to one of the guards left the cell. He returned a moment later carrying a small box. The other guards looked at the box. One of them said something, and the others laughed and pointed at Rikker and others in the squad. The guard set the box on the floor near al-Mansr. She reached inside and pulled out something made out of rubberized black fabric.

"That one first, I think." She pointed to Danko. Ishaq and one of the other guards picked up their guns and pointed them at the soldiers. Al-Mansr tossed the object to Da'ud, and he and the other guard walked over to Danko. Da'ud pulled Danko to his feet pinning his arms behind him. Danko struggled and cursed but he couldn't pull free. The other guard knelt down and held out the object. It was some kind of panty.

Danko tried to kick him, but the guard dodged and grabbed Danko's ankle. He slipped it over Danko's foot while Danko hopped around trying to keep his balance. He suddenly grabbed Danko's other the leg, lifting him into the air. He slipped the panty over the other foot and began to slide it up Danko's legs. Danko squirmed and tried to kick. The guard just dodged and kept moving the panty up towards Danko's waist.

The guard had to stretch the panty to get it over Danko's hips and around his waist. Danko suddenly stopped kicking and his eyes opened wide. "It's got a — oooh... uhh — no!" The guard clicked something at the waist. Then he seemed to adjust something at Danko's crotch. Danko shivered, moaning low and panting.

Da'ud let go of Danko's arms. The American fell to the floor. He clutched at the panty, trying to get it off. "No," al-Mansr shouted, and then said something in Arabic. Da'ud pulled Danko's hands away from his crotch. When Danko started trying to take the panty off again, Da'ud slapped his face several times until he stopped.

Al-Mansr tossed another panty to Da'ud. He and the other guard walked over to Carpenter. They pulled him out of the corner and forced the panty onto him. Carpenter sank to the ground trembling when they were done. He also frantically tried to take off the panty, but it seemed to be locked at the waist. The two guards slapped him until he collapsed, almost unconscious.

McGill was next. He tried to dodge the two guards until Ishaq fired a warning shot at his feet. He stood perfectly still, fists clenched as they put the panty onto him. "Oh, oh, my G-d," he yelled as Da'ud adjusted it at his crotch. "It's — it's --" His words became a low cooing moan.

"I trust you will not give us any trouble," al-Mansr said. Her tone sounded almost as if she wanted Rikker to try something, but he refused to rise to the bait.

'Whatever that thing do, I won't let it make me act like some hysterical dame,' Rikker thought. He shook his head and stood perfectly still while the panty was slipped onto him. He looked down to see some sort of hook mechanism at the waist. It was rubberized, too. The feel of it reminded him of the wet suit he'd worn when he'd taken scuba diving lessons a few years before. It felt a bit odd, but that was all. Why were the others reacting as they had?

The hook at the waist was pulled tight and somehow locked with a plastic tie. Then he felt something inside the panty. It was down at the crotch, a large piece of hard rubber that lay right at the opening to his new vagina. Da'ud reached down and slowly moved it back and forth before he slipped it inside Rikker. As he did, he tapped a point on the outside of the panty. Rikker heard a hum. Then he felt it, felt it inside him. The damn thing had some sort of vibrator built in. It was — it was — he couldn't think. His entire body shivered. He heard sounds, a moaning from far away that he barely recognized as his new voice.

In desperation, Rikker forced himself to reach down, to try to take the damned thing off. Whap! Something slapped him and kept on slapping him. He stopped reaching for the panty. Part of him wanted the pain to stop, but a part of him didn't want to do anything, anything else, but enjoy the waves of pleasure that were racing out from his crotch to his entire body.

'You're a man, Rikker, a man,' he thought. Don't give in; just pretend to go along. They'll leave in a few minutes, and you and the others can get rid of the damned things.'

"Stand, all of you," al-Mansr shouted. The four soldiers slowly got to their feet. "Now, walk. You are soldiers; march for me around your cell."

The four men formed a line and began to walk. The thing, whatever it was inside their panties, inside them, moved as they walked. It slid across their clits and rubbed against the walls of their vaginas. The sensations got stronger, much stronger. Rikker and his men were moaning, cooing, making the sounds of a highly aroused woman as they walked.

"Hop, two, three, four," al-Mansr said, laughing and clapping her hands as she counted cadence. The soldiers barely heard. It was impossible to keep in step. It was barely possible to walk. Their legs felt so weak, and their entire bodies were trembling.

McGill went first. He staggered and fell to the floor. His legs opened wide as he writhed and moaned in multi-orgasmic ecstasy. His head rolled back and forth, and he reached up to fondle his breasts. Then Carpenter fell. Rikker was trying to step over McGill, when the first orgasm hit, and his legs gave out. Carpenter, his eyes closed, walked into a wall and slide down to join the others on the floor.

Al-Mansr and the four guards stood and watched. She looked at her men, each of them sporting an immense erection. Harun was even reaching down to rub it through his pants. She felt her own nipples tighten in sexual excitement. She would have liked to have some time with McGill. She'd discovered her weakness for redheads of either sex while she was at Hopkins. But she couldn't, not yet anyway. These four had to be treated solely as women until they were conditioned to act that way. Giving McGill a chance to make love to a woman would be... counterproductive.

She looked at the four transformed men. All four had passed out. Danko's hands were on his breasts. Rikker had been pulling at his hair. Now they all seemed to be asleep. And, she noticed, they were all smiling. She took what looked like a TV remote control from her pocket and pointed it at the four men. Batteries weren't cheap. The low humming noise that had been barely audible over the moaning stopped.

From experience, al-Mansr knew that the four Americans would be unconscious for hours, gradually drifting into a deep sleep. She wondered what sort of dreams they would have. "Out!" she shouted at the guards in Arabic, and the four of them left the cell, leaving al-Mansr alone with the four transformed soldiers.

* * * * *

McGill was the first one to recover. He felt himself lying on the floor of a room, shivering. Then the memory of what had happened to him, happened to all of them came streaming back. "Shit," he said, opening his eyes and sitting up.

He felt the cool of the floor against his butt. Was he naked? Had they taken those damn panties off? He looked down. It was still there. He frantically tried to remove it, but it was still fastened tightly at the waist.

McGill took a moment to look at his body. He had slender arms now — damn good legs, too. He caught himself thinking that they'd look great in heels. 'The hell with that,' he thought. 'I'm a man.'

'Yeah, a man with tits,' he corrected himself, looking down at his chest. His breasts weren't large, just a little bigger than the proverbial handful. His nipples were a bit on the big side, though. McGill wasn't wearing anything else but the panties. He looked around for his shirt, or anything else, to cover them. There wasn't a damn piece of cloth anywhere.

The others were in the same state as he was, naked except for one of those damned panties. McGill stared for a minute at Danko. Damn, he had a sweet little ass. 'Wait a minute,' McGill thought. 'That's not a girl; it's Tommy Danko. We're guys. We got together last week with a couple of girls from the 437th and got drunk on some liquor he smuggled in. We all had a fine old time; those girls screwed like rabbits. I can't be looking at Tommy's ass like he was a girl.'

Then Danko rolled over, so that McGill could see his face. Damn, he was wearing make-up. His lips were painted a bright red, there was rough on his cheeks, and, oh Jeez, eye shadow. It looked like somebody had worked on his eyebrows, too. They were just narrow lines.

McGill licked his lips. He could taste the lipstick on his own face. He couldn't tell about the rest, but he had to assume that he had the rest of the make-up, too.

He was still shaky, but he managed to get to his knees and stagger over to Danko. As he got closer, he could see the faces of the others. They were all wearing make-up. He reached over to wake Danko and got another surprise. His nails were polished the same bright red as Danko's — and, probably, his own — lipstick. On a hunch, he looked down at his bare feet. Yeah, his toes were polished, too.

Danko opened his eyes just as McGill reached him. "Hi, beautiful," Danko said with a weak smile. Then he remembered what had happened to them. "Shit, am I wearing make-up, too?"

McGill nodded a look of disgust on his face. "Yep, and nail polish, fingers and toes. It keeps getting better and better, don't it?"

"Screw that kind of talk," Rikker said, slowly sitting up. "We're going to get changed back, and we're going to get out of here, so help me. And I'll personally strangle any man who says otherwise." He stood up slowly and managed to walk over to Carpenter. The Black man was awake. He'd been trying to undo the lock that held on the panties. The locking mechanism was small, but it worked very well, and he couldn't make any progress.

"Hey, where's our clothes," Danko asked. "Or what was left of them." All four men looked around. There was no sign of any clothes, or any cloth at all, anywhere in the room. The four of them were completely naked except for those damned panties that they couldn't get off.

There was a click, and the door opened. Two of the guards, guns at the ready, walked into the room and took up positions. Then al-Mansr came in followed by the other two guards. The four solders glowered at them; feet planted and ready for any opening.

"What sourful expressions for such pretty faces," al-Mansr said. "I have improved your men's natural beauty, Sergeant. I hope that you and the men do not mind."

"You know damn well that we mind," Carpenter said. "When does this shit end?"

"Oh," al-Mansr said, "but it doesn't. As your friend, Corporal McGill said, 'it just gets better and better.'"

"So the room is bugged, too," Rikker said. "Thanks for the information."

"My pleasure, Sergeant." She raised her hand. She was holding something that looked like a TV remote. "And speaking of pleasure…" She pressed a button.

The four soldiers felt something moving inside them. Their eyes went wide, and they all gasped. First in surprise, but, in a moment, they were beginning to feel the effects of the vibrating nubs within their vaginas, against their clits. "Stop this," Rikker managed to say between clenched teeth.

"Would you like me to stop, Sergeant? You and your men seem to be enjoying themselves so much." She grinned and tapped the remote again. "Very well, I will give each of you a chance."

"A... uh chance. For... for what?" Carpenter asked.

"Why to regain your old forms, if that is what you truly want."

"What do we... oooh... we have to do?" McGill and Rikker said, almost at the same time.

"You must say, 'I am not really a woman. I am a man, and I demand that you change me back.' Any one of you who says that four times, promptly and without interruption will be changed back and released. Does that seem fair?"

"Too fair," Rikker said. "There's... there's got to be a... a catch, but it's worth the... oooh... risk."

All four were panting now. Their nipples were stiff from the sensations that were shooting like bolts of energy through every part of their body. It was hard to concentrate on anything except how their bodies felt.

"Very well," al-Mansr said. "McGill. Begin."

The words caught McGill unaware. He was feeling something building inside him. Something that he hated to his very soul but that couldn't happen fast enough for his traitorous female body. He blinked and stared at al-Mansr trying to take control.

"Too long," she said with a laugh. "You fail. Carpenter, your turn."

Carpenter gritted his teeth. "I am not really a woman. I am a man, and I demand that you change me back." One. He took a breath. "I am not really a woman. I am a man, and I demand that you change me-back." He said the last two words quickly. That damned thing inside him seemed to be moving faster every moment. "I am-not really a-woman. I am a... a man." Had she caught that? Carpenter didn't think so. "And I demand that you-oooh... change me back." She didn't stop him. "I am not --"

"Going to finish," al-Mansr said. "Though it was a good try. Danko, start."

Danko had been standing still trying to get control of himself, his sensations. He managed to get through the first two repetitions, but in the middle of the third one, he lost control and said, "I am a... uh m-man, and I... oh-oh-oooh." He shivered and stopped trying. "Shit, I blew that one."

Al-Mansr laughed and pointed at Danko's face. "Well, at least this one is honest." She turned and faced Rikker. "Sergeant, let's see if you can do any better than the others." As she spoke, her hand moved across the remote. She found a small dial and turned it most of the way to the right.

Rikker felt the thing within him speed up. It seemed to be rubbing harder against his clit. His eyes widened at the feelings, but he gritted his teeth and managed to get the first repetition out. The second was harder. He was panting like he'd just been on a 20 mile run, but he managed to keep the rhythm of what he was saying. He squeezed his thighs together trying to stop the sensations as he began the third repetition.

"I'm not really a woman. I'm a man, and I demand to be changed back." Had he gotten the words right? It was hard to think about anything except the way his breasts felt. It was like all the energy from his groin was going straight to them. He had to keep going. Once more, and he was home free. "I am not really a woman." Rikker was concentrating so hard on the words that he didn't realize one hand was moving towards his breast. "I'm a man." Trembling fingers touched the erect nipple. His eyes closed. His hand, without any conscious thought directing it, caressed the nipple. "And I... oooh... ooooh." His mouth opened wide as the other hand rose up to his left breast. His legs buckled, as he fell to the floor

"No better than the others," al-Mansr said. "You claim to be the men that you once were, but your bodies — your bodies are female now. And they have betrayed you into our hands." She said something in Arabic. The guards filed out of the cell. She left last, turning for one last look at the four figures lying on the floor caressing their still sexually excited bodies.

* * * * *

"She's got us, Sarge," McGill said. The four soldiers were sitting on the floor talking. They were speaking in whispers, hoping that the mike, wherever it was hidden, wouldn't be able to hear very well what they said. "There's not a damn thing in here that we can use as a weapon. We can't even stick our heads down that john over there and kill ourselves."

"Stow that defeatist talk." Rikker's face was red with anger.

"Well, what the hell can we do," Carpenter asked. "She got us so hot, we couldn't even say three simple sentences."

"I know," Rikker said. "She got me the same as the rest of you, but there's got to be a way out of this. I'm not gonna be a broad for her or anybody else. I'm a man. We're all men, damn it."

Danko gently lifted his bare breasts. "Did you ever see something like these on a man's chest? Do you still have what a man has between his legs?"

"No, I don't," Rikker said. "But that doesn't mean that I don't plan to get it back somehow."

"I say we just rush them next time," McGill said.

Carpenter looked shocked. "You crazy, man. Rush four guys with Kalishnakovs. No, thank you."

"Look," McGill said. "Maybe it'd work. We'd sure have the element of surprise. Nobody's going to expect us to do something that crazy."

"Yeah," Danko said. "And if it didn't work, and they shot us — well, even death might be better than living like this. I say try it."

Carpenter and McGill nodded, and the three of them looked at Rikker. "You're all crazy." He sighed. "And I guess I am, too. I'm in."

"So how do we do it," Carpenter asked.

Rikker looked at them for a moment, while he thought. "We spread out as the guards come in, so they can't all be watching all of us. We charge them as soon as they're all in the room. Never mind that bitch, al-Mansr. She doesn't carry a weapon as far as I can tell. Anybody gets a weapon, take out your man as quick as possible and see if you can use it on any of the others. Okay?"

The others nodded again. "One more thing," Rikker added. "We aren't built for long-term unarmed combat right now. Take them out any way you can, and if that means a knee to the groin or anything else nasty, so be it." He stuck out his hand, clenched in a fist. "Hut!"

The other three each made a fist and touched Rikker's. It was a sort of military good luck ritual that they had followed since they had first met just out of training.

They stood up to wait for something to happen.

They didn't have to wait very long. The lock clocked, and the door began to open. Two guards came in with al-Mansr. They stood on either side of her. "Stand closer together," she said, gesturing with her hand. "I heard your little plotting, and I have no intention of letting you carry it out." She raised the remote and pointed it at the soldiers.

It was still turned to the highest setting as she pushed the activator.

McGill felt the motion inside him. He felt himself beginning to get warm down there — and wet. It scared him, but it felt so good, so very good. He put his hand down at his crotch and pressed it against the front of the panty as if he were trying to force the sensations to go back into that damned, that wonderful little nub.

"Ooohhh!" The sound was a low moan deep in McGill's throat. He felt waves of sexual energy wash through his body. His other hand reached up to slide along his breast, teasing the nipple. The sensations were coming stronger, faster than they had before. He head was thrown backwards and rolling back and forth. His mouth was open, but his eyes were closed tightly shut. It was a fire under his skin, building… building. He hated and wanted it at the same time. He felt the ecstasy began to break across his body.

"Splat!" A wave of icy water stopped him, stopped the sensations. McGill opened his eyes to see a grinning guard — there were four in the cell now — pointing a SuperSoaker at him. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded. The guard just laughed and said something in Arabic.

It was the same for the others. The panty brought each of them to the brink of orgasm. Then a blast of icy water ended it. The sensations began again after a few minutes. It built and built and built — only to be dashed by a shot from one or the other of the SuperSoakers two of the guards were carrying.

And after a few minutes the cycle of pleasure and water, sexual fire and icy water began again.

After an hour, the four men were barely aware of being wet. They were barely aware of anything except the incredible need for sexual release that had built in their bodies. Their eyes were half closed, and they could barely stand. There was no delay after being hit by water, now. The sexual energies began to run through them almost as soon as the water brought them down from the last peak. Their bodies shivered more from sexual frustration than from being cold and wet. They couldn't speak, could only moan in protest when the water hit.

"I think that you are ready," al-Mansr said. If the four Americans heard, they showed no sign of it. She took a Kalishnakov from one of the guards and spat out a quick order in Arabic. The other guards knelt and put their weapons down near al-Mansr. Each then moved slowly towards one of the four, smiling — leering as they walked.

One of them, Salim, went to Danko. He put his arms around the transformed soldier and pulled him close. He kissed Danko on the mouth. Hard. Danko shuddered and his aroused, frustrated body reacted. He put his arms around Salim's neck and kissed him back. He rubbed his naked breasts against Salim's chest and ground himself against the erection that he felt growing in Salim's pants.

Salim's arms reached down to fondle Danko's butt. Danko kissed him even harder, sticking his tongue into Salim's mouth. Salim worked the concealed locking mechanism on Danko's panty. He felt the material loosen and began to pull it down.

Danko felt the panty sliding down. He felt relieved until he felt the nub begin to move out of him. "No," he said pulling away. "I — I need th-that in me. N-need to feel good, so... uh very g-good."

Salim couldn't understand what this infidel bitch was saying, but he knew that she wanted something. He reached around and quickly loosened his own belt. In a single move, he pulled his uniform's short pants and his underwear down almost to his knees. A wiggle at the hips and they fell to the floor. Then he took his erect member and rubbed it against Danko's pussy.

"Yes, oh, yes," Danko all but shouted. That's what I need — what I want. P-put it in me." She lurched forward and all but impaled herself on it. She grabbed Salim's neck and lifted herself, wrapping her legs around his waist. Then she began to pump her hips, pumping as if she were trying to suck Salim's penis into her own body.

Carpenter, McGill, even Rikker acted the same way. With no conscious thought, with no hesitation, they gave in to the demands of their body. They were each willingly, lovingly allowing themselves to be fucked by one of the guards.

* * * * *

Rikker screamed as the orgasm hit. Was it the fourth, the tenth, she had lost count. She? Yes, she had to admit it to herself. The desperate need had been gone for a while. She had been fucking... she wasn't even sure who he was, purely for the pleasure, the female pleasure that she got from it.

He — Ishaq, Rikker suddenly remembered — was spent now. She could feel his shrinking within her. She knew that she should be furious for what had been done to her. Part of her was and always would be. But now, now her main thought was to find someone else who could make her feel as good as she had felt. She looked around to see if there was anyone. No, the other... women in the squad were doing what she had been doing. Except for Carpenter who was asleep, a very satisfied smile on her face.

Rikker looked up to see al-Mansr standing over her. "Repeat after me," al-Mansr said. "I was never really a man. I want to be a woman, and I beg that you never change me back."

Rikker smiled. "I was never really a man..."

The End



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