Gender Swapped By Aliens! (4 page)

“Certainly.  Don’t you like it?”

“You made me a whore.”  I put my hands to my face as I started to sob again.

“A sexless bureaucrat doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“Why are you doing this to me?  You’ve already won.”

“I’m doing my job.  All you have to do is stop resisting the change.  You can’t deny you enjoyed yourself—immensely.  You could stay this way if you just accept it.”

“I don’t want to!” I bawled.

“Very well then.  You can stay this way until you either accept it or change your mind.  Until then, let’s get you dolled up.”  She waved a hand over my face.  I turned to the mirror to see my cheeks turn red, my lips plump up before turning bright pink, my eyelashes getting longer, and my hair poofing up with bangs spreading across my forehead.  “There you go.  Now you’ll be ready for the next round.”

“I hate you!” I whined, my voice even higher now.

“Your feelings about me don’t matter.  It only matters how you feel about yourself.”

I put my hands to breasts that seemed to have gotten even bigger.  I gave these enormous knockers a jiggle.  I was gorgeous, but I was a whore.  How could I ever live with that?

“This isn’t over,” I squeaked and then strut out of the bathroom on my taller heels.

Mr. Teeko waited for me at my desk.  “You cleaned up nice,” he said.

I giggled dumbly and then patted my hair.  “Do you like it?”

“You look like a go-go dancer.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s awesome.”  He yanked me into a kiss.  His hand found its way into my blouse to fondle my nipple again.  As my pussy throbbed, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I had to take another “memo” in his office.

***

To the outside observer—like the aliens—life as a bimbo secretary should be torture.  I never really felt that.  For one thing there was the sex.  Lots and lots of sex, in just about every position imaginable.  Some of them were not all that comfortable, but at the end I always came.  Mr. Teeko was not the nicest man, but with that massive cock, he could always get the job done.

Another reason to enjoy my new life:  Mr. Teeko spoiled me like a princess.  As payment for my “services,” he would let me use the company car and unlimited credit card.  I quickly learned the joy a woman feels to go on a shopping spree.  And without having to worry about paying back the balance, I could afford to go to the best stores, the sort where one dress might cost ten thousand dollars.

My home was a trendy loft with nearly as much square footage as the house I used to live in.  I had a walk-in closet for all my pretty new clothes, with shelves just for all of my shoes and boots.  There was a terrace garden with a view overlooking the city that was simply gorgeous at night.  I even had my own maid, cook, and gardener to take care of me.

With all that, it might seem I would sink into the new luxury and forget about everything else going on.  It was certainly tempting, but I never succumbed to that temptation.  In the back of my mind, I still yearned to have Denise next to me in bed and Michael and Tammy down the hall in their rooms.

Another temptation was to go down to the twenty-sixth floor and look for Jo Ann in Accounts Payable.  I knew if I did that, the aliens would have to alter things to make sure she couldn’t remember me.  So I was content to bide my time, until for six months I had been Mr. Teeko’s pet secretary.

One morning I was on my knees, “taking dictation.”  That was his code for sucking his cock.  The first time I had taken him in my mouth I threw up afterwards, but now I had gotten used to the rancid taste.  I expertly worked my tongue around his cock, feeling it get bigger, to the point it started to throb.

As I worked, he ran his fingers through my hair, clamping down to the point I winced with pain.  He always liked to inflict a little pain with a slap or a hard pinch or yanking back on my hair.  It made the experience better for him and I have to admit I got off on it too.  I had definitely become a dirty girl.

When someone yanked my head back, I assumed it was Mr. Teeko.  Then I found myself looking up at the hard, grim face of the cop who had first taken me from my office.  I smiled up at him.  “Hi there!  Do you have an appointment?”

“It’s time to go, whore,” he growled.  As he jerked me back onto my spike heels, I saw his partner holding a gun in Mr. Teeko’s direction. 

“Say anything about this and we’ll blow your head off,” the cop said.  “This is Empire business.  Got it?”

“I understand.”

“But Daddy—”

The cop holding me cuffed me across the face.  “Shut up, whore.”

“I’m sorry, Lynette.  There’s nothing I can do,” Mr. Teeko said.

I knew that a lot better than he did.  Still, a part of me wished he would do more than zip his fly up.  I deserved that for six months as his concubine. 

The cops dragged me to the elevator.  I knew better than to scream for help.  I still had tears dripping down my face, ruining my makeup.  I waited until the elevator doors closed to ask, “What are you going to do to me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is my business.  It’s my life!”

The slightly nicer of the two said, “You’re going back to the facility for testing.”

“Why?  I haven’t done anything.  I haven’t said anything—”

“Just shut up.”  The cop holding me gave me another slap across the face.

I spit at his feet and then smiled.  “You got another one in you?” I teased, though from the way my pussy gushed, another slap might have been enough to finish me off.

“You would like that,” he grumbled.

They tossed me into the back of the same unmarked car as before.  A few people gave me a look as the car left the parking lot, but most knew to mind their own business.  I blew the security guard a kiss and then giggled.

“So what are they going to do to me now?” I asked.  “I really hope they don’t make me an old lady again.  All that saggy skin was so gross.”

“That’s not up to us,” the cop behind the wheel said.

“If it were, I’d put a bullet in you and be done with it.”

“That’s not very nice.”  I leaned forward on the seat to whisper, “Why don’t you let me out and I can show you my
appreciation
.”

“You want to keep those bleached teeth of yours, you best sit back.”

“You boys are no fun,” I grumbled.  I leaned back with a huff.  Even if they did let me go in exchange for a blowjob, it wasn’t like the aliens didn’t know how to find me.  Or they could simply alter reality so I came right to them.  I wondered why they didn’t already, but maybe their powers had limits.  Or maybe they liked to do things the old-fashioned way.

The car parked at the slaughterhouse and then they snatched me off the backseat.  The last time I had come here as a man in his prime with a loving wife and two great kids.  This time I came here as a slutty secretary with only her sugar daddy for support.  Who knew how I would leave?

I recognized the hallway from the last time.  It was a challenge just to keep my feet in my shoes with how fast the cop dragged me along.  One opened the door to Room 5 in time to let the other shove me to the floor.

“Have fun, whore,” the one who had shoved me growled.  They both laughed as they closed the door.

I muttered a curse under my breath.  I got to my feet and then brushed myself.  There was a mirror at the back of the room allowing me to pat down my hair.  As I did, something began to happen:  my roots were turning dark, until they were black.  The ends were still platinum, but they were dry and frizzy.

I leaned closer to the mirror and then gasped.  Crow’s feet were setting in around my eyes and lines around the corners of my lips.  The makeup on my face seemed to double while my skin turned an unnatural orange.  The skin on my neck loosened into a gross turkey wattle.  My breasts sagged ponderously.  My hips spread.  My waist thickened to let a roll of flab hang over my skirt.  My expensive blouse and skirt changed into a cheap pink tube top and imitation leather skirt.  My nylons ran in numerous places.  The shoes that cost Mr. Teeko a thousand dollars turned to ones that probably cost ten from a thrift store.  An imitation feather boa surrounded my shoulders; I whipped it across my neck to hide some of the sagging.

They had made me into an old, used-up whore.  Maybe it was what I would have looked like twenty years from then, long after Mr. Teeko had kicked me to the curb.  From the look of my clothes, I was probably a prostitute—and not one who earned a lot.

As if all that weren’t enough, my teeth started to fall out, leaving only a few crooked yellow ones among blackened stumps.  I began to shiver while at the same time my skin felt as if ants were crawling over it.  My arms had numerous tiny holes and bruises.  From a stint at a rehab clinic, I could recognize the signs of drug abuse.  An injected drug, probably heroin.

I toddled over to one of the chairs in the room.  I hugged myself on the chair, trying to keep it together.  Was this what it had come down to?  They would give me the DTs in the hope I would finally break?

“You don’t look well, Miss Fontaine,” a cultured voice said.  I turned to see Lynn Fong standing in the doorway.  The differences were that she wore a labcoat over her gray suit and the eyes behind the glasses had turned silver.  From a pocket of her labcoat she took a syringe with something brownish in it.  “Perhaps you would like a ‘fix?’”

“In exchange for what?” I asked, my voice as raspy as someone with severe bronchitis.  In my case it was probably from thirty years of smoking.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You used to be a psychologist, didn’t you?” the woman asked while looking down at my folder.  “Yes.  Perhaps that helps to explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why you’re so resistant to the reprogramming.  We have conquered two hundred worlds and never has anyone managed to hold out as long as you have.”

“Guess I’m just lucky.”

The woman sat down at the desk in the room.  She set the heroin needle between us.  I resisted the urge to lick my lips at the thought of that heroin shooting up through my arm, sating my need to get high.  I wasn’t a drug addict.  I had never done more than smoke a joint or two in high school and college—

“Some of my colleagues would love the chance to cut open your skull to dissect that brain of yours.  I have convinced my superiors—for now—that such primitive means are not necessary.”

“Lucky me.”

The heroin needle continued to beckon to me as she studied my file.  “It is very interesting.  Agent 47 changed you into a paragon of femininity and you seemed to readily accept this new role.  Yet still your mind would not allow a complete reprogramming.  It is very unusual.”

As I continued to shiver and wish I could tear the skin right off my arms, I tried to think rationally about the situation.  “You guys just don’t understand love.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Love.  L-O-V-E.  I love my family:  my wife and my kids.  All you have to do is let me be with them again.  Give me my life back.”

“That would not do.  Your thought patterns would not be altered enough for the process to work.”

“And you think changing me into an old whore hooked on smack will do it?”

“The standard procedure is to introduce significant alterations to recalibrate the subject’s thought patterns.”

“Yeah, well, you did that.  You pretty much turned me into a girl.  And it still didn’t work.”

“Indeed.  Most unusual.”

“Because I’m telling you:  I love my family.  I’ll never let you make me forget them.”

“Your stubbornness is very perplexing.  You must realize there is no way you can resist the might of the Zargon Empire.  Eventually we will have no choice but to destroy you.  The only way to spare your life is to give in.”

“And stay like this forever?  Not likely.”

“We will see.”  She gestured to the needle.  “Take the drug.  Perhaps chemical stimulation will help.”

“I’m not doing drugs.”

“Take it.  Now.”

“No.”

She got up from behind the desk.  Despite that she was barely five feet and a hundred pounds, her grip on my arm was like steel.  I flailed around, but she refused to let go of my left arm.  She only needed one hand to hold it steady while the other snatched up the heroin needle.  I could only groan as she jabbed it into my arm.

It didn’t take long for me to float into a blissful haze.  I was barely aware of being dragged down the hallway, into another room.  This one was more like a prison cell, with a bunk and toilet.  I was shoved onto the bunk and then left to my own devices.

With a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes.

***

I can’t remember how those next few days went.  They gave me all the heroin a junkie could want, though never enough to overdose on.  I sobered only long enough to give myself another dose before I fell back into my happy coma.

I don’t know how many days went by until I was dragged into Room 5 again.  My numbed body was tossed onto a chair, where I curled into a ball, hair falling over my face.  My skin was starting to get that itchy feeling again to indicate it was time for another shot.