“How about this one?” 

“Hmm… maybe. Actually, wait, go back? Yeah, no, anyone with an american flag in their photos is a hard no.”

“Oh shit good eye, I didn’t even notice that.”

“Left, and next.”

“This one?”

“You kidding me? See the dude? This is an obvious unicorn hunter. Hard pass.”

Erick could hardly conceive of this assault to his auditory senses. He was just trying to enjoy his burger in quiet sanctity, yet here these fucking femoids were, polluting the air of the university dining hall—no, polluting the very intellectual fabric of the entire institution—with their inane dreck. He had been glaring daggers at the pair for the past several minutes, but of course, their inferior minds were incapable of noticing anything outside their own frivolous little bubbles of nonsensical drivel. 

The taller one leaned closer to her friend, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes as she scrutinized the red head’s phone. Though, to be clear, red was clearly not her natural hair color, a textbook case of aposematism if he’d ever seen one. She was probably some keyboard feminist who wielded her pronouns like some clumsy hammer of misguided justice by the looks of her. Then again, considering she was dressed like a man, and wore her hair short, she might not have been a real woman anyway. One always had to be careful on a college campus. At least he could be certain the darker haired one was a real woman, she was dressed in proper, stylish but not slutty, feminine clothing and carried herself with dignity—at least she had before she’d opened her mouth. Still, she was easily an eight or a nine. Erick did have a certain affinity for tomboys, so if the shorter one cleaned herself up a bit and learned her place, she might be a seven and a half on a good day, but presently it would be generous to even call her a six. Regardless, the six appeared to be showing her friend potential matches on one of those shallow dating apps, the kind that degenerated society by only reinforcing women’s propensity to care only about looks. Unfortunately, both the six and the nine were doing just that. 

“Alright, thoughts?” Six asked. 

“Definitely not. I mean, to be clear, would. But someone like that, I feel like I’d have to do all the work y’know? Plus, I want someone taller, and buffer, too. I mean, I need a proper hunk y’know? But also dumb, easy to keep in line. Like, some gym rat who will toss me up against a wall and ravish me when that’s what I want, but will bend over and take it like a good bitch with just a word, y’know?” The sheer casual air she took on as she described such degenerative acts filled Erick with unbridled rage. Women like this were the reason he, and so many men like him couldn’t get girlfriends. Narrowing his eyes, Erick tore into his burger, letting out an audible huff of disgust as he did so. 

That, apparently, got their attention. The two girls looked up and locked eyes with him, seeing his display of raw masculinity as he devoured his food. Real food, with meat, red meat, the only meat he ate, and Erick ate meat for every meal. Six was the first to speak up. “What’s your problem, asshole?” 

Erick saw red, he couldn’t believe this bitch would talk to him like that. It was all he could do to contain the great fury of the slumbering dragon within him. No, even they did not deserve to see the true extent of his wrath, not that they would ever recognize what a nice guy he was for subduing the white hot terror of his true rage. Only one person had ever seen him like that, had glimpsed the dark storm within him. Erick had shown it, revealed the penumbral darkness within him to his high school best friend, not out of anger, but as an act of trust between brothers in the war for objectivity in this post-modern hellscape. So someone, anyone could understand the daily struggle he went through to chain that great beast. At the time, his best friend had told Erick his darker self reminded him of the Joker.

“Hello?” Ugh, he couldn’t believe these woms, interrupting his thoughts like that. “What’s your problem dude?” The six asked, she moved to put herself in front of the nine, who actually seemed a little scared. Part of Erick felt guilty for that, it wasn’t too late for her, it wasn’t her fault she’d been corrupted by feminism and the like. Erick didn’t like the idea of hurting such a pretty, delicate flower. “If you’ve got an issue with her we’re gonna have a problem.”

Okay, that was it. “I have an ‘issue’ with both of you,” he spat. “You fucking females are all the same.”

“Oh, and how’s that?” Six asked. Nine just looked a bit confused.

“You’re all just a bunch of shallow, hypergamous sluts who want to be fucked by big Chads. Then you complain when those assholes mistreat you while you ignore nice guys like me just because we aren’t strong enough, or because we’re under six feet tall. You whine about how toxic masculinity or whatever sets unrealistic standards for women, but then when hollywood executives only cast the buffest, most muscular dudes in movies or even have the cgi teams make them even more buff you don’t breathe a word about how women force unrealistic standards on men.” 

“The fuck are you talking about?” The nine asked. 

Of course they didn’t understand. Erick reminded himself that, in truth, it wasn’t the fault of either of them. And that was the sort of empathy that should net him girls, but of course, it didn’t. “I wouldn’t expect a female mind to understand this. Really it’s not your fault. Weak men have allowed you too much freedom, given you the wrong ideas. Women are supposed to know their place, be kept submissive and obedient. Loyal and chaste when single, but when in a relationship always ready to please.” 

Six sat there stunned for a few moments, taking in everything Erick had said. And wow, had he actually gotten through to her? She really seemed to be mulling it all over. Then, suddenly, she clapped herself on the legs, and stood with a start. “Okay,” she began. “I’m done.” She held her hands in the air and—wait, were they glowing? The air around him seemed to sizzle and pop as space itself warped and the light around them darkened. This was… this was magic? Erick was a rational skeptic, of course, but as much as his logic oriented male brain tried to explain what he was seeing, he couldn’t. This was magic. He knew it was magic. 

Six took a step toward him, and the room faded away til it was just Erick, and the two girls he’d been arguing with. Something plucked Erick out of his seat and suspended him before them. Six continued. “You have some real fuckin shitty ideas about women, you know that? But it’s fine, maybe if you walked a mile in our shoes you’d learn some empathy.” 

Wait a second, walked a mile in their shoes? Magic? Oh no, Erick had seen this sort of thing before. One of his friends back in highschool had shown him weird porn stories about guys bad-mouthing witches and being turned into vapid, slutty, girly bimbos addicted to cock. He’d stopped being friends with that guy afterwards cause he was such a little bitch boy. Didn’t he actually go to this school now? Whatever, that didn’t matter. Were they going to do that to him? “W-wait, please, don’t turn me into some vapid whore” he choked.

“Too late, creep,” Six snarled. She snapped her fingers, and the world went dark.

Finley awoke with her face pressed into soft carpet. Wait, wasn’t she in the cafeteria? She groaned, and rolled over. Light. It was bright. Her eyes hurt. Definitely not the cafeteria. Then where was she? Finley tried to scrape through her memories, but boy howdy, thinking was super hard. Sifting through her thoughts was like churning… some kind of thick liquid stuff. She blinked hard a few times as her eyes got used to the light. And oh yeah, she got into an argument, with those girls, didn’t she? She was kinda mean to them, it would probably be good to apologize. But then one of them had done something weird to her with her hands and like… was magic involved? And a punishment? Something about women and also shoes? And walking a mile? Finley could definitely walk a mile. That was easy, too easy really. Usually she preferred to run, it was better exercise that way, and typically she did more than one mile. Was that the punishment? She had to make her workout worse?

No no no, the walking thing was like for comparing to something else. Really it was about like, being nice to women? And Finley was really good at that! She loved women! But wait… no, hang on. Holy shit. Finley bolted upright. “Bro they turned me into a fuckin chick!” She cried. They were gonna punish her by like, making her a tiny, dumb girly girl who liked dudes or something. Cause that’s what she used to think women were supposed to be? Whatever, that didn’t matter! They’d turned her into a woman! Which was… bad? She was supposed to be a guy, and her name wasn’t supposed to be Finley. She wasn’t sure what it used to be but that didn’t matter. Just to be sure, Finley struggled to her feet and examined herself and yep—tits, wide hips, and a gussy (girl pussy). She was definitely a girl—not that girls couldn’t have dicks, Finley was a big fan of dicks on girls. But wait… hadn’t she used to not think that was real? That was dumb. Of course girls had dicks. Finley at least took solace in knowing that, while they had definitely fucked with her head a bit, they definitely hadn’t made her dumber, if anything they’d made her smarter. Cause what kind of dumbass wouldn’t like girls with dicks? 

Still, she did need to find those ladies and confront them. It was bad to turn people into women and fuck with their heads against their wills. And she needed to be turned back to how she used to be, cause it was like, her true self or whatever. Even if she was a dude back then and was pretty sure that she was kind of an asshole then too, it was about like, the self or whatever. Some kinda dumb nerd shit. Finley was pretty sure some femme she’d helped learn to operate the stepping machine at the gym had told her about that before. But that wasn’t important. Finley looked around the room. She was in like, a bedroom or something. Maybe those ladies had brought her back to their house? Using her smarts, Finley decided they must not be in this room, and because the rest of the house was probably attached to it, maybe she’d find the witch and her friend outside the room. 

Like a true champ, Finley had guessed right. She walked into the next room, and there they were, just hangin out. Damn, they were both really pretty too. The taller femme was bangin hot. And the smaller soft butch was also real cool and gender in a hot way. Finley wondered if they’d be down to fill her holes. Then she remembered they had made her attracted to men, and got both mad and sad. Here were these two super pretty girls and Finley really wanted to have sex with them but she couldn’t because they cast a spell on her that made her some tiny femmey bimbo who liked gross ass dudes. Finley crossed the room, and loomed over the two much smaller women. “Hey what the fuck?” She asked. “Why’d you turn me into some like, teensy tiny dumb femmey bimbo? And why’d you make me straight instead of a dyke? Super not cool.” 

The two looked at each other like they didn’t understand what Finley had just said, then looked back at her. “I’m sorry, what?” The soft butch asked. 

“You heard me, I was a guy, and then you made me a tiny slutty straight girl instead of a hunky dyke like I’m supposed to be.”

“Um,” the femme began—actually wait, she looked kinda familiar. “Have you looked yourself in the mirror?” She asked, gesturing to a nearby full length mirror. Finley stormed up to hit, and saw her usual self: six foot three and jacked, cool dykey side shave undercut, muscle tank, gym shorts, backwards snapback. She didn’t get it. What was she supposed to be seeing here? “Yup, that’s me,” she said, confused. 

“So, please explain how you are a ‘tiny’ or ‘femme,’” she continued. 

Finley looked at herself for a few minutes, then got it. “Oh shit, nice, the spell didn’t work.” She pumped her fist in victory. “You meant to turn me from a guy into a girly femme, but instead you turned me into this cool hunky chick, up top!” She held up her hand for a high five. It wasn’t reciprocated. Finley deflated, but in doing so looked down and saw her big powerful forearms and perked right back up with a vapid grin. Then she remembered she was straight now. “But I’m still mad at you for making me like dudes. I’d totally be all over you two, like you’re both super hot and I want both of you inside me but I can’t because I like dudes now which just… ugh.” Finley shivered in disgust.

The two shared another look. “How do we…” the witch began.

“Who cares? She’ll figure it out eventually.” The femme turned to face Finley. “Get on your hand and knees and lose the clothes, slut, we’re gonna spitroast you.” 

Finley immediately forgot why she was mad. “Aw fuck yeah dude! I’ll get right on that and then after that you can turn me back into a dude and make me a dyke.” She stripped off her clothes, revealing her sculpted muscles and fat tits, then got on her knees like a good slut. She assumed the position. The femme took her place in front of Finley, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, a throbbing girlbulge poked out of her panties. Behind her, Finley could feel the soft butch witch rest a hard strap against the entrance to her sopping gussy. Finley looked up, locking eyes with the femme, then realized something. “Hey, by the way, what are your names?  don’t think you ever t—” she was cut off by the femme dropping her panties, and thrusting her gorgeous girl cock into Finley’s mouth. At the same time, the strap against her wet, needy gussy thrust inside as well.  

“Quiet, slut, you don’t need to know our names 'til after we decide what to do with you. ‘Til then you can just refer to both of us as Mistress.” Mistress (femme edition) explained. Finley would have responded enthusiastically, but she was too busy having her mouth filled with girlcock. Both her Mistresses thrust inside her, fucking her mouth and gussy hard and fast. Finley was in heaven. A few minutes into the fucking, a lubed up dildo was inserted into her ass, and Finley knew just what to do. She’d trained her kegels for a reason, after all, to make her holes more fun to use. Finley wasn’t sure if that’s actually how that worked, but she was sure it was hot to be able to grip both the toys in her lower half like a fucking vice. 

The pounding continued, the sounds of wet slapping only interrupted by her wanton, slutty moans and occasional shouts from her Mistresses. Words like “take it, dumb slut.” Or, “that’s a good, vapid girl.” Or, “holy shit look at how hot her back muscles are when they flex like that.” Finley was just happy to be of service. It all felt so good. She couldn’t imagine a better life than going to the gym, pumping iron as the cute femmes gawked at her, then going home to get all her holes filled by her Mistresses. If Finley had it her way, she’d be gagging on girlcock for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Though really, that would fuck with her gains. Finley didn’t know a lot, but she did know about fitness, and not just fittin this dick in her mouth. She thought about what she was gonna do at the gym tomorrow, she was pretty sure tomorrow would be leg day? Then she stopped thinking entirely as her Mistress thrust into her mouth again, reminding Finley that her main job at the moment was to slobber on cock. Then her Mistress’ girldick started to twich, and she blew a delicious load of hot, sticky cum right down Finley’s throat—which she swallowed, because she was a good slut, and also because she needed the gains, even if it wasn’t a ton of calories and protein, cum still had some of that, and she needed her calories and proteins if she wanted to keep getting buffer and hotter. 

Then her Mistress just… kept going? She blew load after load right into Finley’s mouth, it was like, an inhuman amount of cum? Almost like there was magic involved or something. But Finley didn’t bother thinking about that, she wasn’t there to think, she was there to be a good fucktoy for her Mistresses, and good fucktoys thought less and sucked more. So she did just that, swallowing load after load, practically forgetting all about the fact that she was being fucked from behind as well until her pleasure peaked, and she exploded into an earth-shaking orgasm. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto her hands and knees. 

Her two Mistresses collapsed on top of her, forming a nice little cuddle pile. “Good girl,” one of them cooed in her ear. Finley shuddered.

“Wow am I really a good girl? Fuck yeah dude that’s like the best news I’ve heard all day bro.” Finley pumped her fist.   

Her Mistresses grew quiet for a moment, sharing a look. Then the other spoke. “Of course, you were such a nice, and obedient fucktoy,” she whispered. Finley opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word in the dildo she’d been fucked with, slick with her cum, was shoved between her lips, then pulled back out, and held before her lips. “Lick it clean, slut.”  

Finley nodded eagerly. “Fer suuuure, Msitress! I’ll lick off that cum like a fuckin champ, dude.” Without another word, Finley leaned forward and began to eagerly run her tongue all up and down the length of the toy, lapping up all her sticky juices. 

“Is she always gonna talk like that, babe?” One of her Mistresses asked.

“Hey you wanted a dumb hunky herbo. Don’t whine to me about it.” Finley didn’t really hear them, she was too busy lapping up her cum, content as she could be. It was in that moment, basking in the afterglow, licking up her juices, cuddling with her two hot, gay Mistresses, that Finley had a realization, which was pretty impressive for her, she very rarely came to conclusions of her own. She finished cleaning the dildo, wiped her chin, and looked between her two Mistresses, feeling, for the first time, real genuine emotions and sentimentality welling up inside her. She belonged, really belonged. It was enough to bring a tear to her eye. Her old life was so meaningless, and this new one so wonderful. The idea of going back to being a guy horrified her. 

This was who she really was, deep down. Finley was certain of it. And she wasn’t going to hide from that anymore, wasn’t going to repress it. She was a woman, not a man, she always had been. And Finley was so grateful to her Mistresses for showing her her true self, for helping her realize that this was actually who she was, deep down, all along. “Mistresses,” she began, her tone sober and sincere. “I really don’t know how to thank you both. I was so horrible to both of you, and instead of hurting me, you showed me empathy. I don’t know how you did it, probably with magic or something, but the fact that you had the heart to look deep into my soul and see my true self, see the trapped woman inside under that awful, awful man, and liberate me, show me who I really am… I just. I dunno, thank you so much for helping me realize my true—”

Finley was interrupted by her Mistress' flaccid cock slapping her across the cheek. “Shut the fuck up, slut," the witch shouted.

“You seriously think you’re like, trans or whatever?” Her femme Mistress asked, incredulous, barely holding back laughter. “You dumb fucking herbo holy shit.”

“Yea no for real, you weren’t trans before. You were a horrible, misogynistic piece of shit who hated women and minorities. I used magic to reach into your mind and fundamentally changed who you are as a person. I made you a woman, made you a dumb, submissive slut, but made up for that by making you an actually kind, empathetic person. Erick is gone; you are someone else in every meaningful way. I feel no remorse for doing this because the world is an objectively better place without him. This is not a story about self discovery and you learning to love yourself, this is a story about me ridding the world of a horrible creep and replacing him with someone better.”  

“Yeah if you wanted a story like that you should have stayed friends with me in high school instead of calling me slurs,” her femme Mistress continued. 

Finley stared dumbfounded for several seconds, then a little lightbulb went off in her brain. “Wait a sec, I thought you looked a little bit familiar! So did your girlfriend like transition you with magic or something?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, that was all hrt, though she did use magic to make it so I cum an entire pint every single time I orgasm. I went through a whole like, personal growth arc of realizing that I actually wasn’t a guy who wanted to be turned into a cock slut, and was instead a bisexual girl who had misconstrued her desire to be a girl and take dicks as a fetish. But it turns out that I’m actually a woman, a dominant one too, and I actually prefer women to men by a lot, I just didn’t really have the language or context to understand or separate my attraction to men from my desire to be a woman at the time because of cisheteronormativity, toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia and transphobia. Anyway after a whole bunch of really intense introspection and personal growth I became a fully realized person. Basically the exact opposite of what happened with you.”

Finley stared at her Mistress, mouth agape, a little bit of drool trickling from her lips. “Huh?” 

“Don’t worry about it. You need to hit the gym tomorrow morning, gotta keep up the physique to please your Mistresses, so it’s time for you to go to bed.” 

Finley nodded, she couldn’t wait for tomorrow, going to the gym was her second favorite thing behind getting fucked really hard, and she was sure to get the other thing afterward.