In the Name of Science

             Why did he do it?

               What possessed him to test his experimental body wash on himself, knowing he could have permanently damaged his body chemistry? Only he knows, or rather, she knows.

               He, a budding chemist, had made a unique soap maker. In his words, it was a "Soap Bomb", guaranteed to make soap instantly as it touches water. It was a private project. He didn't dare let anyone know about it, lest word spread like wildfire. So, he waited until he was alone in his home to test it.

               First, he poured some water into his upstairs bathtub. Second, he got undressed. Then, he simply stepped into the water, keeping the "Soap Bomb" beside him. The tub was rather small, but fortunately, he was a diminutive person, so he managed to fit. Finally, the moment of truth: He simply... dropped the bomb. Soap bubbles formed and spread almost immediately. He felt chills run down his spine as the slightly hot water entered his skin. Then, he relaxed.

               The water was coated in soap by now. As he closed his eyes, he didn't realize his body was slowly beginning to change. The soap, when touching his skin, seemed to seep inside his pores and once inside his bloodstream, began altering his genetic code. As his head lowered past the rim of the tub, he became lost in a self-induced haze of pleasure, oblivious to the gradual changes to his masculine body.

               His body hair, although wet, receded into his skin, one by one. Meanwhile, his crewcut hair slowly began to grow longer. With each passing second, strands of hair grew and grew, twirling into a curl as it became long enough to pass his shoulders. He was so lost in his daze, that he didn't feel his spine elongating or his facial features crunching and shifting. Underneath the water, mounds om his chest swelled to large, enviable proportions. Hip bones jutted out while his waist caved in on him. Some fat from his midsection shifted down to his thighs. Lastly, what made him a man shrank and receded within his body. Within minutes, the chemist was replaced by a much taller, very well-sculpted temptress.  

               Eventually, the woman that was once the chemist opened her eyes, realizing how long she was in the tub. As she stepped out, something proved very wrong. Walking on the balls of her flawless feet, she made her way to a mirror. To her shock, she appeared nothing like the man who had stepped in the tub scant minutes earlier. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't help but admire herself. Her massive breasts, her hourglass figure, her moist womanhood, and her hairless, silky-smooth legs were all too much to ignore. Something was clouding her mind, something or someone. The thoughts of the chemist were colliding with those of a second identity, an alter ego. She was forcing her way to the front. She was driven by lust, and she wanted to be sated. 

                Her hands back on her huge breasts, she cupped them and felt a tingle. She giggled. It felt good. She wanted to feel that way more. The "Soap Bomb" did more than just make a bathtub full of bubbles on impact. It changed men into very shapely women, like her. But a part of the chemist remained within her mind. She needed more of this feeling, to make it last longer, but to do it, she needed to make more "Soap Bombs". The money would be one thing, but she wanted the power as well. Of course, if anyone asked, it would all be in the name of science.

"Never Cross Our Mistress"

            You awakened in a daze, having no idea where you were or how you got there. All you remember was seeing a strange gas come from nowhere and how it smelled like perfume. In your blurry vision, you find three leggy, well-sculpted young ladies, who all appear to be eyeing daggers at you. Ironically, you had never seen them before in your entire life.

            M: "You need not struggle. We are indeed strangers to you. We will acknowledge that much."

            You felt sick but not enough to throw up. All you could do was look at your attractive captors.

            M: "You may or may not remember bad-mouthing our mistress. Your experience with her left her offended, upset, insulted, like her honor had been stomped on. She described you to the letter. That is why you're here."

            Your stomach is in knots, as if something was moving around inside it. Suddenly, you could see hair slowly growing down your head, blocking your vision.

            M: "Mistress finds men to be a distraction, in life and in general."

            Your feel your fat from around your stomach shifts to your thighs and derriere.

            L: "That is why she has only women in her employ. Our mistress says that women are not disgusting and disorderly like the men of the world."

            You slowly start growing breasts.

            *Slurrrrrrp* *Slurrrrrrp* *Slurrrrrrp*

            With each long slurping sound, they grow bigger and appear more natural. They stopped growing when they reached what looked like DD-cup size. With your blurred vision, you couldn't see the hair on your nearly nude body receding into your skin. What fat remained around your stomach melted from your body, leaving an hourglass-shaped waist. Crunching was heard as your hips widened slowly to childbearing proportions. You now appeared to be a woman from the waist up. That would quickly change. 

            R: "You will learn not to cross our mistress."

            As she finished, your manhood slowly shriveled into nothing. The transformation appeared to be over. Your vision finally cleared, and looking down, you could see thick, hairless thighs and pedicured feet. Your breasts looked humongous from your viewpoint, and you felt nothing in between your legs. You were genetically female, and the women before you, looked at you with demented glee. 

            All (in unison): "Welcome, sister."