FSE

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The world hadn't quite been the same since all the women died.

You'd think there'd be no more civilization or sentient lifeforms? No, not quite that bad. We had quickly figured out how to fix the problem, in a way. We'd long since had the technology to change someone's body, and even their sex. The problem was that doing it to regular males drove them into suicidal dysphoria. Some – those condemned of truly heinous crimes – were forced into such servitude, but even then, the mental stress ensured they didn't last long.

The fate of society, then, landed squarely on the shoulders of trans women. Born with male bodies, they hadn't been afflicted with the horrifying plague that'd wiped out half of, well, all of us. They also reacted positively to the procedure of a full body transformation given that their minds were already those of women. The plague had recently, finally been wiped out and now all that remained was a slow repopulation effort. Enough girls were being born – and women, transformed from males - that the tide was slowly turning. The scientists projected that in a thousand years or so, the population would be sufficient to reproduce naturally again. It wasn't by any means time to breathe a sigh of relief, though; the slightest deviance from the plan, or some kind of second plague, would spell the end of civilization. Everything was hanging on by a thread, and predictions of that thread's durability did little to encourage people in the face of mother nature standing there menacingly with a pair of scissors in the shape of natural disasters.

The plan wasn't without its flaws, either. The problem was that not everyone was aware of what they were. The calculations showed that as much as a whole percent of all of us were born in the wrong body. Not everyone knew they were such, though, and out of those who knew, not everyone chose to go through with any form of treatment. All that in spite of the fact that those who transitioned were viewed as heroes. They lived, in exchange for frequent pregnancies and as many children as they could muster, lives of plenty and luxury. They received protection from the state and the adoration of countless thousands of men who could only ever dream of meeting a woman. This still wasn't enough to make those who didn't naturally suffer because of the circumstances of their births eager to change, though.

Most who weren't aware of their condition… well, they couldn't know they could be happier. And if given the choice, a male body was certainly stronger and tougher. Because of this, society had begun to comb through every university-aged young adult. Everyone was obliged to take a test that would reveal if they were compatible with the procedures of changing, and if they were, they were equally obligated to go through with it.

This year it was time for my “class". About a thirty young men, from this arcology, all roughly my age. That wasn't every young man my age, of course, but everyone in this section of the building. Everyone I knew or had met in person so far. Each generation was divided up into smaller groups to improve social cohesion.

We were all abuzz with nervous energy. It wasn't that anyone strictly disagreed with what was happening. They wanted new women as much as anyone else, especially given that all of them – at least the ones proven healthy – would get to have sex with the transformees of their class. Everyone was, however, loudly denying that it could be them who would get robbed of their strength and masculinity. At the same time, there was excitement. We'd never even seen these mythical, beloved, worshipped women before. All we knew was ourselves.

As far as I knew, nobody in our group felt like they should transform. I didn't. My closest friends didn't. if someone did, they didn't show any signs of it. Statistically, one of us would probably transform. And so, as we headed to university that day, we all looked at each other suspiciously, trying to – somehow­ – suss out who among us it'd be, while also deflecting guesses and accusations ourselves. All pointless of course, because nothing we said made any difference, but it was the typical testosterone-fueled conflict-seeking that almost made me wish I'd be the one transformed. Almost.

I glanced at myself in one of the hallway windows. It was still dark outside this early, and that meant I could see my own reflection in the glass. I was still the same fox as always. Muscular if a little narrow in build. Strong shoulders, tight hips, and so on. Really, there wasn't much to remark on, beyond that I had a masculine body. All of that would change if it was me.

My friend caught me “admiring" my form and jabbed an elbow into my ribs. Damian, a deer of all things – deer didn't tend to be confident and loud – who never failed to irritate me when he wanted to. Yes, we were friends. That, however, was entirely in spite of his personality, which was half akin to splintered glass or perhaps sandpaper. Somehow, he managed to be interesting enough and friendly, too. When not in that mood.

Right now, he was very much in that mood.

“Looking forward to having a pair of tits, Alex?" he brayed, as if it was the most original joke ever. “Hey, how do think they even feel? More like… water, or maybe like jelly? They kinda bounce like it."

“How would you know how tits bounce? You've never seen any in real life," I shot back. “For all you know they might just be stiff like bone."

“Well, I mean, I've seen movies," he argued. “And god, they're all so beautiful."

“Mhm. Yeah, you and your movies," I emphasized, painfully aware of how loudly Damian watched his porn in the room just next to mine in the dormitories. “I'm just saying. Keep it in your pants until then. You know they didn't want any of us masturbating today. Besides, what if it's you?" I sighed.

“That's impossible," he laughed, with his usual self-assured tone. “I have antlers and everything! Where would those go?"

“They'd fall off, I guess," I sighed, before leaning against the window. Frankly, I felt nervous. Regardless of who changed, the dynamics of our group would probably change a lot. And I didn't particularly feel attracted to women either, not the way that all of my classmates seemed to. So, the thought of having to perform, especially in public, had left me with acid reflux all morning. “Who do you think it'll be?"

“Well, I've been looking at Joe. You know, small ferret guy? He's already pretty curvy and all. Could be him," Damian grinned. “Either him or Michael."

Micheal was a bear. Whatever prompted that guess certainly wasn't his towering, bulky physique, but I wasn't really in the mood to listen to Damian's bizarre theorizing about gender signifiers. It was ridiculous.

Either way, we headed to class. Well, my group did, not the entire hundred-some class of young adults. It was staggered. Still, with my mind so full of worries and anxieties, all I could really do was zone out. I could catch up on the learning later, I figured. There were plenty of thoughts I had to go through. The primary one was one of basic curiosity. What would being a woman even feel like? Old movies and pictures showed them as these almost elfish beings. Slender and without anywhere near as much muscle as we men had. Their hips were usually, but not always, wider, and their shoulders the opposite. There were the breasts of course, and that hole between their legs that seemed incredibly alluring to most men, but it was the emotional side of it all that truly interested me.

“-well, alright, you guys clearly aren't listening today," the teacher sighed. The old retriever placed the textbook he'd been reading from on the desk, and then sat down. “Too worried thinking about what you're about to go through?"

A few of us nodded in agreement. There was a general, quiet murmur among everyone in the room.

“There's nothing scary about it. Those of you who don't turn get to finally see, touch, and probably mate with a woman. And the ones who do won't mind it. It'll be a little scary, yeah," the dog explained, pausing for a moment. “But you have to realize, whoever changes were always meant to change. It'll feel like a fog lifting, or a weight falling from your shoulders."

Shaking heads. Questioning glances.

“Look, I'm not really an expert on being a woman but I know a fair bit about them. Ask me whatever you want to," our teacher offered, scanning the crowd with his eyes before focusing on Damian. “You, for example."

“Uh- me? Well, like, in old movies women are always shown as really emotional, crying all the time… that seems horrible?" he stuttered. “Like they can't control their emotions at all."

The dog snorted with amusement. “And you never get angry, then? They're just different emotions emphasized by different hormones. Better to cry than punch a wall and break your knuckles."

“At least being angry is productive!" Damian shot back, though I could hear that the answer had rattled him.

The retriever rolled his eyes dramatically. “Back when women still made up half the population this was one of the main points of contention between us and them. The idea that anger was somehow a more valid emotion than sadness or even happiness," he sighed. “Of course, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Well, it'll matter for your descendants in a thousand years from now. Does anyone have anything more interesting to ask?"

I slowly raised my hand.

“Yes, Alex?" the dog asked.

“Well, the idea of having sex as a woman…" I began, fighting back the urge to vomit up bile, for how anxious I suddenly felt, admitting that I'd even thought about it. “Isn't it like… necessarily degrading…?"

I was stuttering, not really having any idea how to phrase my awkward question. I meant to ask how it might feel. If it was painful, and so on. With two men, you could at least always take turns on top, whereas a woman was always bound to be the receptive partner. No matter what they wanted.

“Hardly degrading," the dog scoffed. “I'm sure it feels just as good for them as it does for us. At the very worst one might view it as a necessary and ecstatic sacrifice," he intoned, before continuing and furrowing is brow.

“I suppose what you're asking is if women can be dominant? The answer to that is yes. And rest assured, they do very much enjoy sex, even if I can hardly tell you how exactly it feels for them," the dog finished. He glanced at the class. “How I know, you ask? One of the transformees from my class was a lioness. I still bear those scars."

He had the look of a man fondly reminiscing about a painful experience. I didn't doubt anything he said; it all made sense. But the notion of being penetrated in that way… and seeded, and pregnant, was so alien that it felt difficult to imagine at all. How could anyone let it happen willingly? It made my palms sweat, my stomach tie itself in knots, and strangely, my cock swell. Perhaps it was simply the role of these mysterious “other halves" of, well, life.

The others asked some more questions. How sex felt was a popular one, as one might predict. The dog described it as wonderful, but not fundamentally better than sex with other men. Simply “different but wonderful". Breasts, he said, felt like water balloons but warmer and softer. I had already zoned out, instead imagining – again – what it'd feel like if I was the one transformed, or even one of several.

I'd grow weaker, softer, curvier. Instead of my firm muscles I'd have round, eye-catching breasts. And between my legs, rather than a cock like every male, I'd have a slit for the cocks to go into. I didn't realize it right away, but I was shivering at the thought.

Not just that. I'd have everyone's love and adoration, like all women did, unconditionally. I'd get to become pregnant. To create life, within myself. To nurse my pups. To take all the men of my own age again and again, in the most intimate way, and never want for anything.

Why did it sound so much more enticing than pumping my seed deep inside a woman's womb, the way all other men fantasized of doing? I shook my head. I'd never really had the urge to stick my dick into anything, horny as I might've gotten during the teenage years of the past.

“Right, here. I had this video I was meant to show you," the dog stood up, waggling a USB stick at us. “It was meant to be after today's subjects, but since you all volunteered for homework instead, I suppose we might as well watch it now. It's a public service announcement, or I suppose, a quick summary from one of the women previously transformed."

“It better have tits!" someone in the back of the classroom shouted, and I felt the sudden urge to plant my fist in someone's face. It was ridiculous that somehow, some of us – adults, all – struggled to even respect the gender that'd necessarily save the world. I didn't even want to imagine how it'd been before the pandemic.

Thankfully, those people were rare, these days. And even then, most of the attitude melted away when they actually met a woman and realized they were just people like anyone else, just a little softer. Or so I'd heard. I had no way of really knowing.

The dog sighed. His ears drooped. “There are no tits in it," he barked. “And that attitude is going to leave you as the one virgin in your entire class if you don't drop it."

Yes, those transformed were obliged to mate with everyone in their group. Barring particularly foul attitudes. The comfort of the women was paramount, and heavily enforced. Yet some people, still, couldn't swallow their bizarre, misogynistic pride. At least the whole classroom erupted into mocking laughter at what the teacher said, leaving that someone red like a turnip with embarrassment.

I didn't bother looking at who exactly it'd been.

The teacher stuck the USB device in his laptop, pulled down the projector curtain, and the little clip he'd wanted to show us began. A rather distinctly feminine face appeared. That of a… spotty cat, likely a leopard, though I wasn't an expert. She was wearing purple eyeshadow, which struck me as particularly beautiful, with the way it contrasted with her tawny fur. Her shoulders were a little broader than I thought average, but she was no less beautiful for it.

“This… on?" she asked, tapping the camera with a finger. I couldn't happen but notice that her claws were painted too, in light purple and blue glittering shades. I almost felt jealous at that. Makeup was barely manufactured at all anymore with the world's demographics the way they were, and despite me wanting to try some, it was far out of my price range. “Okay, looks like it's on," she continued, swiping her long, blonde hair behind an ear before looking into the camera.

“Hey, guys," she began. “I'm not totally sure what I'm supposed to be saying, they told me to record an encouraging little thing… um, well, I guess the main thing is, it's not scary at all to… change?" the leopard began her little speech.

She went through a few of the basics we'd already been told. Only those who were already women on the inside would change. She continued, talking about how she'd never really questioned her gender either, but that upon transforming she'd been much happier regardless.

“And not just because of the sex either," she giggled. It was a melodic, infectious kind of laughter. “I mean, the sex is amazing, but just in general! It's like, I guess, that my body finally runs on the right fuel? And it's nice to have boobs and all that. I guess bras are a little uncomfortable, but… yeah, you know what I mean."

“Oh, come on, she can't be real," Damian yelled. “Women don't like-“

“Ah yes, another self-taught expert, with opinions based purely on porn, yes?" the teacher interrupted him, to another round of laughter from the others. “Shut up and keep watching."

“So, yeah. You should embrace the chance that it might be you," the woman in the video smiled. “It's not scary. More like a caterpillar hatching into a butterfly. Well, good luck either way!"

She reached to turn off the camera, and the video ended there. Our teacher said a few words, but just then, a group of men entered the classroom.

“Group 20-B of Class 43, correct?" one of them asked. A stern-looking wolf.

“Yep, that's them," the teacher replied. “It's their turn?"

“It's their turn. If you'd all follow me, please," he barked, and gestured towards the door. So, with no other choice, we followed him out of that classroom and into the gymnasium, which had been lined with chairs. They guided each of us into one. My heart was beating so rapidly I was worried it might break my ribs.

I didn't, frankly, know why I was so nervous. It wasn't as if I was going to change. I'd never really identified as anything, and “a woman" was probably last on the list of things I might identify as. Maybe it was the setting. They strapped us to the chairs, one by one; the wolf with his serious expression checking each cuff that a few nurses wrapped around our wrists.

“Hey, are these really necessary?" Damian complained when they tied him down, too. “Aren't women supposed to be weaker?"

The wolf narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and gave a hand signal to the nurse currently cuffing him, who in response yanked them closed extra tight, which drew a surprised yelp from my mouthy friend.

“No, but some people panic when they realize they're changing. And even a woman can cause a lot of damage wildly flailing about in a panic," the wolf told us. “Still, you watched the video, didn't you? With the whole part about embracing it and not being scared? I'd recommend you do that. Remember, if you start changing, it's because you are a woman already, just with the wrong body. And hey, if you do panic…"

He pointed a finger at Damian like the barrel of a gun and made a “poof" noise with his mouth.

“Tranquilizer dart. Right in the neck. Or tit, if it's you."

Damian was quiet, though he had that expression that told me exactly what he was thinking, which was that he'd like to stick a tranquilizer dart down the wolf's throat.

“Okay, if nobody else has stupid questions, let's get started. Nurses, injections. I really do recommend relaxing; it'll take a while to work. And you might feel a little intoxicated regardless," the wolf barked.

“Woo! Free drugs!" Michael – the bear, if you forgot – exclaimed, and there was another chuckle from the class. Even one of the nurses snorted. As much as the wolf wanted this to be a serious, somber occasion, a class full of late teen boys made it just about impossible. The immaturity was painful, but at the same time, I already knew I'd miss it when we fully moved to adulthood. Which was exactly what would happen after this, turned or not. Being stuck with the needle and risking transformation had become a sort of ritual; the last thing we did while young, before entering the workforce.

The two nurses already had enough injections prepared for all of us. They started with Damian, on the other side of the room. He gave a little painted grunt as the needle went in, but then sighed. “Just get it over with," he muttered, and for once, followed someone else's advice.

I saw him visibly relax, leaning back in his seat as the nurses moved on to the next. I suppose the injection really must've been somehow intoxicating, because he looked almost drunk. Not too bad, then. One after another, they gave it to my classmates, each one getting the same dazed look as the drug took hold. Maybe five minutes later, the wolf examined Damian, with a disappointed look on his scruffy muzzle.

“Nope, this one's just a regular man," he sighed. “Any signs on the others?"

“No, sir," the nurse closer to me replied. “Nothing so far."

I frankly didn't like how they seemed to think of men as… well, worthless. Disposable. All their interest seemed to hinge on if we had the potential to become women instead. From a standpoint of reproduction, it made sense, but that didn't mean I had to agree. These were all – well, most of them were – my friends, after all.

Finally, it was my turn. With a weak, apologetic smile, one of the nurses stuck a needle in my arm, pressed down the single-used plunger, and then moved on. That was that, then. Now I could do nothing but wait for whatever might happen. Though, thinking about it, I already knew; nothing was going to happen.

The wave of relaxation that washed over me, spreading from the injection site, was rather enjoyable. Like an afterglow, even though there'd been no preceding orgasm. I leaned into the feelings, savoring the feeling of not having any worries at all. Would it really be so bad to change, I pondered, each thought feeling like an ephemeral cloud in my head. No answer really revealed itself.

The nurses finished their task and stood off to the side while everyone waited, some with excitement and others with a kind of grumpy frustration, despite the relaxing effect of the transformative drugs.

“Well, that was nice, but I prefer beer," Michael grunted. Being a massive, muscular bear, he seemed to be recovering from the drugs faster than the rest of us. “We done yet?"

“We're done when we let you go," the wolf growled. “Anything?"

“No immediate reactions," the nurses confirmed, now speaking almost at the same time. “So if any of them are compatible, it's pretty well-suppressed."

“Ugh, I hate that," the wolf responded. “Used to be a time when trans women were eager to get treatment, and now everyone tries to suppress it instead. Well, just a matter of time."

I suppose what he said made sense. Growing up in a world of only men, everyone fully assumed themselves to be a man also. There was no point of reference for anything else, so how could anyone know how being a woman felt? Yet, the wolf seemed more frustrated because of his time being wasted than the philosophical implications of our forcibly masculinized society. I didn't much like him, I decided. Though his lean, muscular build was pretty attractive, Damian pulled it off better, and despite his immaturity, at least Damian didn't look like he'd tear my throat out while fucking me.

Wait, where did that thought come from?

The warmth suffusing me was getting a lot more intense, all of a sudden, and the world around me quickly seemed to dim. There was a swooping, twisting, clenching sensation in my belly, and if it wasn't for the drugs, that was the exact moment I think I would've panicked. Instead, it was a sort of detached realization; I was changing.

“Mm, looks like the fox is changing," one of the nurses observed.

“Alex? Nooo way," Damian laughed. “He's like-“

The wolf walked up to him, and promptly grabbed his entire muzzle in one hand, squeezing it shut. “She is changing. And that's quite enough out of you. You may all watch, but quietly. Remember, people like her are the future of all of us."

At least that stern attitude wasn't purely out of meanness.

I felt like I was floating. And at the same time there was an immense pressure growing inside me, to the point of being completely unbearable. My vision was blurry and I could barely focus at all, but suddenly my shirt felt very tight around the chest. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. More of a swelling, a tingling, accompanied by a melting sensation inside me. As if I was being reshaped.

One of the nurses helpfully unbuttoned my shirt upon noticing my forming breasts straining against it, and the sight of them spilling out with a bounce made my classmates gasp. All of them were staring. I couldn't help but glance down too, and seeing two perky tits on my chest made my head swim. But I liked it. It felt… comfortable. I'd never really thought much about my body to begin with, but suddenly it felt a lot more like myself.

Had I really always been a woman? Was that what it meant? Suddenly, the thought brought with it a fuzzy warmth that spread through all of me. A lightness I'd never felt before. And with it, something damp. Like all of me was melting and…

I couldn't reach to touch my groin, but I felt so much softer and emptier down there. That wet warmth, only far more tangible-

…leaking out of me.

-it made me feel so dirty, and yet, so hot. So incredibly, divinely feminine. There was a rightness to it, a comfortable happiness that I'd never really felt before. A weight lifted off my shoulders, leaving me feeling energetic and happy in spite of my muscles shrinking away. It's almost impossible to describe. Perhaps, for those who haven't felt it themselves, I'd say it felt like waking from a stressful dream into a peaceful and happy reality.

I had no idea why I'd hesitated about all of this, before. About changing. I gave into it now, not that I could stop it anyway, as change I did. But it didn't feel like the twisting agony I'd feared, to say the least. Just that peaceful sensation of floating down a river, of being embraced by water, of becoming soft and physically weaker. It bordered on mania. How could I not be happy?

I let out a laugh. It sounded so high-pitched and melodic compared to how I remembered my voice sounding. Again, at first, there was a jarring sensation of reality not matching my memories, and then, the next sound – a moan – that left my lips sounded normal again, despite being with the same feminine pitch and resonance.

I felt, if only distantly, the nurses undo the straps around my arms as they lifted me out of the chair and carried me somewhere else, while the rest of my class – friends and acquaintances both – hollered and yelled after me, some wanting to see more and others wanting to make sure I was okay. I was, I suppose, okay, but barely aware at all, except for the warmth and the tingliness that spread through every fiber of my being. And then I wasn't aware at all.

Instead, I awoke some time later in a… room. My eyes were closed, and I was on a surprisingly comfortable bed. At first, I thought everything I had just gone through had been a dream. A beautiful, amazing dream, but a dream, nonetheless. I would open my eyes and wake up in the morning for the real test of who would change. It worried me a little how good the dream had felt, though. It had to mean something. It made me a little nervous about the rest of the day.

Then I actually opened my eyes, and beheld a pair of perfect breasts, my breasts, on my chest, heaving with each shocked breath that I took. My hand dove between my legs and found nothing; my familiar sheath was gone, and the balls with it. All I could feel was a pair of plump lips that I didn't quite dare touch beyond the briefest contact.

Just then, someone else walked into the room. I almost audibly gasped when I realized it was not only another… woman, but it was also the leopard we'd just seen in the video… today? Or yesterday? I couldn't tell how long it had been since.

“Hi!" she chirped. “How are you feeling? Gosh, you turned out pretty adorable!"

“I'm uh…" I tried to reply, interrupted again by hearing my voice sounding so feminine. It was eerie, almost. “I'm alright, I think… just, it's a lot."

“Suuure is," the leopard smiled. She approached my bed, pulled up a chair, and sat down. I couldn't help but notice that her dress – orange, of all colors, with a stylized floral motif – almost matched my fur. “I'm here to give you some personal assistance, before you get thrown to the wolves. Oh, and lessons, you know; girl-to-girl. I'm sure you have a lot of questions; I know I did!"

I looked at her a little blankly. Yes, I felt a kinship with her, instantly, but perhaps it wasn't real. I didn't really see any reason why women would have some kind of bond that men didn't, but she was the only other woman here, and the only one who really understood what I was going through.

“I… I'm not sure, everything feels so different," I finally spoke. She looked at me with an understanding look.

“Well, let's start with the basics then. Would you want to see how you look? I don't think it'll be that different, but of course I didn't know you as a man either!" she chirped, and pulled a little mirror out of the purse she was carrying. She held it out in front of me, and after a few seconds, I actually dared to look.

I was still me, at least. My face was a little softer, a little rounder, a little more feminine. Similar enough that I could still, at least, recognize myself. That gave me some measure of comfort, even if everything from the neck down was different. Even my insides were different, because… well, my duty loomed ahead.

“What does being pregnant feel like?" I asked, watching myself blush in the mirror. The leopard didn't look pregnant, but then, it did take a while to show. Or maybe she'd just given birth.

“Oh, honey, we're not going there just yet. That's one of the big questions, and we want you to get started small with being a woman," the leopard grinned, with a hint of an apology.

I pondered that for a moment, and equally, I pondered what else I should ask this other woman. The only other woman.

“Are you happy?" I asked. “I mean, with… having changed, and everything."

“You don't feel happy?" she asked, countering my question with another.

“I'm- I'm not sure," I stuttered. The world felt overwhelming, somehow. I did feel good, but I also felt terrified, scared, and I wanted to cry. “I'm not sure how I feel. At all."

But then again, women were allowed to cry, weren't they? I didn't, but I probably should have.

“Totally normal," the leopard assured me. “My name is Layla, by the way."

“Um, Alex," I replied.

“Okay, Alex. We can work with that. I want you to take a deep breath. Just calm down, alright?"

I tried to focus on her, though my eyes felt uncomfortably wet. All the emotions felt a lot stronger than they had before. I really did want to cry.

“If I'm happy? Yeah, I am," she replied, and rested a hand on my arm. She felt so soft compared to everyone else I'd ever touched, as if her fur was silk. Then again, I must've felt like that too. “Happier than I ever was as a man. I think you'd feel just about the same, once you recover from the initial shock."

She paused for a moment, her fingers squeezing my arm. “I'm actually currently pregnant. Second time so far, just not showing much yet, and it's… well, it's rough, I won't lie. But it's also wonderful, feeling a new life grow inside you," she explained. “But it's something we have to do anyway. It's our part of repopulating. And in exchange we get treated like queens."

Again, the leopard paused before continuing. “I mean, you get to um… well we'll get the more adult parts of it a little later… but you definitely eat better than the literal president, and sleep on the world's comfiest bed while people take care of your every desire. Totally worth some swelling!"

She made it sound very, very appealing. At the same time, though, there was the grim truth that I'd have to get pregnant, and soon, too. The repopulation effort was of utmost importance, and the transformation brought with it that obligation, too. I couldn't refuse it, either… and the thought terrified me.

“You have a couple of days, though," she reminded me. “To get used to your new body, say hello to all your old classmates, and all that stuff. Before your first breeding, that is."

“What do you mean, get used to…" I tried, before trailing off. There would probably be a whole lot of new things to learn, but I didn't even know where to start.

That was when Layla pulled something else out of her purse. A little bullet-shaped device, that began to hum as she clicked a button on it. “I mean like this. Sure, there's other stuff too, like periods, but you don't get to experience too many of those since you'll ideally always be pregnant," the leopard grinned, wagging the humming – no, vibrating – device at me.

I know it might seem like I'm being deliberately dense, here, but I genuinely had no idea what a vibrator was meant to do.

Until she pressed it against the little nub where my cock had once been, and I moaned at the top of my lungs at the intensity of the sensation. It was incredibly strong, the vibrations amplified and resonating through my whole body. I was squirming in just about no time, and then she pulled it away.

“Like that, yes? Women's bodies are a lot more sensitive in all the ways, and you should figure it all out so you can really tell the men how to pleasure you. Getting pregnant is way more fun when it feels good," she giggled. I couldn't help but giggle along, like we were sharing some kind of awkward secret, like high school girls in old movies.

I felt a trickle of wetness roll from my strange new slit.

“Doesn't seem like you have any trouble getting wet, either. But if you ever can't, we have plenty of lube. Gallons, in fact," Layla beamed. “Okay, what else? I'll be here all day to help you get situated. Not like there's much else for me to do since I'm already knocked up."

“W-well," I stammered. That jolt of pleasure had been just what my mind needed to snap out of the confused, melancholy haze I'd been in. “We could- um, maybe not… I don't know, what do women do for fun?"

This time she laughed out loud. “Oh, you poor thing. I remember just having transformed, but you're even more clueless than I was. We do whatever we want! Just nothing too dangerous to risk our health. Hope you weren't into those stupid games the boys play."

I hadn't been. We – eh, they – sure had some stupid games, especially when younger. I remembered one game that seemed to be about tossing small, hard objects, like the tokens they used for laundry rooms, at each other's knuckles, with the first boy to yelp or move being laughed out of the room. There was also one that involved crawling into the arcology's air ducts, which was hazardous even on the best of days, but this one had them trying to outrace the daily ventilation purge. I'd never participated, but then again, quite a few of us hadn't. It was the kind of “fun" that required a high level of testosterone and a critically low… everything else.

“Like what?" I asked, ever the sceptic.

“Mm, you could draw something, or write something, or maybe we could paint each other's fingernails or go for a swim in the pools. Every day is kind of a day off, except when you ovulate," she smiles.

“And on that day?" I prodded.

“That's when all the sex happens, but don't worry, it'll be a little while before it happens to you," she smiled reassuringly. “Besides, you'll like it. If you didn't like men before, the transformation should've changed that too. For me that was nothing new though."

I didn't reply. Instead, I thought about the rest of my class, like Damian. His personality would always turn me off, certainly – unless there was some hidden depth that I'd never discovered – but, as I let my mind's eye linger on his toned body, with the flat muscular stomach, the broad shoulders and narrow hips, the well-defined arms under a sleek coat of fur… I felt something. And then that mental image slipped a little lower along his form, to a sheath I'd seen many times already. Plump as it was, and then swelling…

Yeah. Not to say I hadn't tried to play with the other men. We were all adults, of course we tried it, but it'd not been to my taste. I hadn't been turned on in the slightest, nor even been able to cum myself. Having someone else squirt their cum into my hand or once, mouth, had been pretty gross. Yet now that I thought of it as a woman, things felt, well, different. I toyed with the idea of watching that sticky, pearly mess disappear into me instead, wondering how it might feel, and the natural results of letting it happen. I'd always thought cum was something disgusting to be wiped off as quickly as possible, but maybe it was just a matter of perspective.

“Yeah, that's what I mean," Layla giggled, seeing the far-away look in my eyes as I imagined that squirting happening deep inside me. “Men are pretty hot. Not to say you can't be bisexual, we're allowed to play with each other if we want to."

I glanced at her, hopefully communicating the obvious question with a dubious look. She broke down into a fit of giggles.

“Only if you want to, silly. And not necessarily with me! I think there's about four of us total in this arcology," she chuffed, the way big cats often did. Then she leaned over me, playfully letting me feel her body. “What do you think? Are you into other girls?"

She felt soft, just like I did. Soft and warm. I liked her being so close to me, too. But I wasn't sure if it was because of how lonely I felt and how sensitive my fur-covered skin had gotten, or if I was actually attracted to her. I had to hesitantly shake my head.

“Mm. Well, you have plenty of time to make up your mind," the leopard grinned, before changing the topic. “Hey, how about you get up and walk around a little? It can be a tiny bit difficult to find your balance with wider hips. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

“Wider… hips," I repeated, hands slipping down my sides to see just how wide mine were. Not much difference; they were flared, but my shoulders were still a little wider, I thought. The smooth softness felt altogether different, though. I sat up with a groan, feeling a little lightheaded at the sudden change in posture. Just how long had I been out?

I stood up, noting that I was a little taller than the leopard, and took a few wobbly steps. It didn't feel much different. Maybe there was some more sway to each step, but I wouldn't have noticed it if not for her telling me to notice it.

“You even make that gown look good," Layla smiled.

I tried tilting my hips a little more. I wasn't sure if I was attracted to her, but it made me feel confident to know that she was attracted to me.

At least, I thought so. I wasn't too sure about anything at all in my current state. That, and honestly, the instant I looked down as I took another step, I was rather mesmerized by how my breasts bounced and jiggled. My breasts. The mythological little mounds that men drooled over in magazines and movies, and most – those who had nobody transform in their cohort – would typically never get to see or touch in real life. I had a pair.

You have to understand, reader, that this transformation was more like turning into a dragon than simply changing gender and sex, if you live in a time of more balance. Women were so supremely rare still that they might as well have been dragons. Certainly, every young man dreamt of raiding their hoards. But I digress.

I stood there, amazed and overwhelmed by everything again, when Layla wrapped her hands around my waist and pulled me into a hug.

“It'll be totally alright, you'll be alright, and you'll get used to this," she murmured, squeezing me tightly enough that I had to strain to breathe in. “Just try to take your mind off it for now, maybe, if it's too much to handle. Just take another moment and relax. You still have plenty of time."

“How could I ever get used to this?" I whimpered. “Or everything else that's about to happen?"

“I'll tell you what," Layla said, letting go of me. “It should be almost dawn. Put on some proper clothes and we'll go watch the sunrise together!"

“I don't have any clothes," I protested.

“Oh yes, you do," the leopard smiled, flicking her hair and pointing towards a nearby drawer. “Well, not strictly yours, but do you have any idea how much clothing the previous generations of women left behind? It's all ours to use now."

I slowly made my way over to the drawers and pulled one open. It was full of neatly folded clothes that all looked softer than anything I'd ever worn before. Shinier too, like the fabric gleamed in the light. Presumably it was satin or silk, materials I'd only read about.

“I'd say with that foxy fur of yours, you'll want something black, or maybe red. Depends on what vibe you want, black's more like, dominance and authority, and red is fiery passion," Layla told me, seemingly very excited to see what I'd pick. I rummaged through the available options; almost all were dresses, which felt a little alien to me – I was used to shirts and pants – but then again, they did look really cute.

I looked at the dresses, then at Layla, who I noticed kept staring at me. I don't know why I was feeling modest. With the men, I'd always just stripped without thinking twice about it. Now, though, I was suddenly self-conscious about my body. I guess I hadn't fully accepted it yet, internalized it as myself. I bit my lip and slipped out of the hospital gown, only to quickly put on a dress. Or try to. The one I'd chosen, a simple black one, was like a tube of slick fabric that I wasn't sure how to get into. There was no zipper or anything. And Layla, of course, noticed my confused look.

“There should be two straps on it, those go on your shoulders. And it's meant to be tight, so just squeeze yourself into it, but…" she paused. “…put on some panties first."

I blushed again. It'd take a while to learn all of this. But I followed her advice, pulling on a pair of surprisingly soft cotton panties that hugged those bottom lips in a rather intimate-feeling way, and then got to work on the dress again. It was a matter of tugging it over my body and trusting the fabric not to tear, it seemed, but eventually I managed. Then I spent what felt like a full minute trying to smooth it over my hips, until Layla finally stepped in to help me, pulling it down over me smoothly.

“Perfect, you look absolutely stunning like that, honey," she smiled, practically cooing at me. “You'll get a look soon, there's a mirror in the corridor outside! The little one I have won't do you any justice, come on!"

She took my hand and basically pulled me out of the room. I struggled to even remain upright. She yanked me into the corridor, and then to a large mirror only a few steps away, where I really saw myself for the first time.

I saw a smoking hot vixen in an almost skintight dress that perfect accentuated her natural curves. Maybe her pose was a little unpracticed, and maybe she looked startled with how wide her eyes were at the sight, but… it was me. I looked amazing. And seeing myself like that, fully a woman, made something click into place inside me. The jarring sense of unease and insecurity faded away. This was what I was meant to be. Immediately, I felt more at home in that body that I ever had in a male one.

That feeling must've really shined through, because Layla rushed up to me and embraced me in a warm hug. This time, I could really appreciate her softness too. I rested my head on her shoulder, and I finally cried while she rubbed my ears soothingly.

Everything was just as overwhelming as it had been, but at least I knew everything would be alright.