Captivity

"How long," President Anderson asked the director of the re-education camp as the stood in the Transformation Ward, watching the bound prisoner drool and shake in orgasm.

"Prisoner Number 2142 one was captured on March 3rd," the director said, consulting her notes, "field interrogation lasted for six days, the prisoner arrived here on March 12, and treatment began immediately, so, this is the 50th day with ten to go.

The President nodded, looked down at her own file, at the picture of Prisoner No. 2124 upon arrival at the camp, the hardened combat veteran, with the four day beard, the muscles, the crew cut. When he—she—arrived, Prisoner 2142 was practically a recruiting poster. "It's amazing."

"Thank you Madam President," the director nodded. "While the Ngozi Process is time consuming—complete feminization of a typical male involves eight hours of treatments daily for sixty days—the results are total and irreversible."

The Ngozi Process, developed by Profession Annabelle Ngozi, just over a year ago, was used by the Republic to deal with captured male soldiers. "Rather than house them, feed them, and worry about them escaping back north," Professor Ngozi argued, "we need to find a way to sap their will to fight for the Dictatorship.

"The moans," the President asked, "they seem...genuine."

"Oh, they are, Ma'am, they are—at least in the later stages. At the beginning, when the prisoner still has a penis, things are different—as you can imagine, once a male has an orgasm, continued stimulation is actually quite painful. However, as reproductive tissue is moved from the penis to the breasts, the effect of the vibrations deaden until, at around day 35, multiple orgasms become possible, until finally, around day 49 or 50, when the breasts are fully formed and the penis is completely shrunken to clit size, a prisoner will, for all practical purposes, orgasm throughout the entire eight hour process."

"An eight hour orgasm every day for ten days," the President raised her eyebrow, "no wonder we're sweeping up so many deserters."

"Since the broadcast, yes, the choice is stark, but clear. Face the brutality of war and life in a dictatorship or the pleasure of enhanced womanhood."

"This will sound crude," President Anderson actually blushed, "but what about, um..."

"Cock," the director laughed, "don't worry, Ma'am, everyone asks. See the two long slots running from her feet to her knees? That's where we attach it."

"When?"

"Today, for this one, Ma'am, that's part of the reason I wanted to show you this prisoner. In fact, here they are now..."

Two female technicians wheeled a cart into the room, sitting on top of which was a two foot rectangular box with a long, metal cylinder protruding. Attached to the end of the cylinder was an eight inch dildo—flesh like with a bulbous head and veins, stunningly realistic—a cock that was going to fuck Prisoner 2142 for eight hours a day for the next ten days.