Strangeflower Academy: A FtM Story, Part Nine

With Autumn fast setting in, the school had taken to cranking the central heating way up, an old, common trick both for keeping warm and keeping the students docile, even if it came at the cost of concentration.

It was while sitting in such a class, half-way to dozing off, that Patricia found her eyes and attention wandering. She'd been a model student for years, and now in her final year her grades mattered more than ever. But these past few weeks she had found it increasingly hard to focus.

The...illness, or whatever, that she had contracted, had left her requiring the "medical" attention of the Nurse frequently. Yet despite vigorously following her instructions, and allowing for personal...assistance...she found her lack of concentration and...other changes only getting worse, not better.

Slowly she became aware that the teacher's top was undone. As the teacher droned on and on, about some important historical event or other, she realised that her eyes were starting to droop. Falling asleep in class would be the worst possible thing, she knew, but somehow she couldn't stop day-dreaming about her history teacher's ripe, heaving bosom.

Pinching herself hard to stay awake, Patricia crossed and uncrossed her legs uneasily. She willed herself to hear the words.

"So it was that when the Japanese Army fell upon the defenders of Nanjing, not a single soul was spared. What followed was a week long orgy of rape and carnage-"

Patricia inwardly groaned. Nothing could have been worse. In the past such gruesome history would have been yucky but now...she pictured herself as one of the Japanese soldiers, grinning lewdly, using his bayonet to slice the history teacher's shirt open...

She pinched herself harder. Where did all these weird, male-focused sex fantasies come from? It was just another one of many strange symptoms, that she found herself oddly dependant on the nurse for treatment. She'd gotten a few injections of course, but somehow she simply couldn't resist the offer of additional "treatment".

But now even daily sessions of being eaten out weren't enough. Her clit practically bulged between her legs, grossly engorged. It was becoming harder and harder to conceal, and it was taking on a distinctly worrying shape and appearance. Her labia beneath remained puffy and swollen, and exploratory gropes had only brought pain. She was becoming too tight to penetrate even with the most well lubricated of fingers.

Not that she had much interest in being penetrated, of course. But still, it was hard not to think about.

"The Japanese Army employed many tens of thousands of women in this capacity throughout the war. The term used was comfort women.."

She squirmed, rubbing her legs together. Why had she become so vile? So lurid? She was Patricia Masterson, the top student. the Head Girl. Not...not some perverted boy, thinking about comfort women and the nurse's dripping pussy and Jimena's whorish mouth-

Something in her shifted again. The heat now suffusing her groin was...unbearable. She rose from her desk, her face flushed, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

"E-e-excuse me, may I be excused?" she stuttered.

The teacher frowned, but reluctantly nodded. "Of course, Miss Masterson."

She all but bolted from the room, sweat running down her face. Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong...

She raced into the girl's bathrooms, relieved to see it was vacant for once, and she quickly locked herself in the cubicle. Panting heavily, she pulled her damp, dripping panties off.

Her genitals were more enflamed than ever. Worse, there was some kind of moisture around her massively swollen clit. It looked...sticky, and pale in colour. Had she been cumming and not realised it?

She gingerly touched it, and almost moaned aloud. Electricity was coursing through her, and her clit twitched and throbbed, like an angry red thing.

Gradually, she wrapped her hand around it, mortified yet unable to resist the impulse. Slowly, she began to stroke her bulging, rod-like clit. It was so obscene, and yet...

"Aaah..." the girl bit her lip. This was intense. She could feel it like a volcano, no, like a dam ready to burst. The feelings were so new, so alien and yet so familiar at the same time. The heat inside her needed to escape, to be released. She needed to explode like never before.

She began to stroke her clit, back and forth, awkwardly at first, but soon finding her rhythm. She closed her eyes, and pictured her most deviant of fantasies, of pinning the history teacher over her desk, and thrusting her clit into her pussy, back and forth....

Patricia quickly, fumbingly, undid her top, and began to caress her breasts. They had shrunk alot, she noted, but they were still sensitive, and tweaking her nipples still sent a thrill through her body. But now she imagined it was another girl's breasts she was fondling, and not her own.

"Yes...take it...take it you whore..." she moaned. "Let me...let me fuck you..." the words were beyond depraved, as far removed from her old self as possible. Yet they filled her with excitement. The thrill of the taboo, of becoming something completely different.

This was Patrick, she decided. This was not Patricia. Somehow, imagining some other, some male entity in her place, doing all of these sordid things, was...comforting. She was not a filthy girl, not bad, not broken. Patricia Masterson was not responsible for all of this...all of this pleasure...

She began to stroke with greater speed, her hands squeezing her breasts painfully. She imagined how roughly she would take all those bitches who had talked behind her back, how she'd slap their tits....

"Ah..ah...aaaaaaaah!" she felt a powerful eruption, and the feeling of a deep weight inside of her being let go. Pain and pleasure entertwined and threatened to overwhelm her, and she fell back on the toilet seat, her legs shaking violently. Her clit...her clit...burned, and she felt a violent, explosive surge of cum erupting from her tight, tight pussy...and...something else...

Something new, something wet, slapped against the seat of the toilet seat, making her shiver. The burning in her pussy was gone. Her clit felt..numb, now, and weirdly limp in her hands. She looked down, dazed, her eyes still out of focus, and realised her hands were covered in thick, salty cum.

Her whole body felt...spent. She was drenched in sweat, and a powerful, salty smell began to assail her nostrils.

She wiped her hands carefully with toilet-paper, and bent down to wipe her pussy...

Only to find it was gone. In its place were two wet, pale, dangling testicles.

"Ahhh" she shoved her knuckle into her mouth to keep from screaming. She couldn't be found now...not like this...but the horror of her new, fresh ballsack was overwhelming. It was impossible. She couldn't...there was no way...

Slowly, she felt around her crotch. There was a thin seam where her pussy had been, raw skin that seemed now to connect to her balls, and to her protruding clit...which seemed incontrovertibly to be a sort of small penis now, a deflated tube that hang above her balls.

She felt all around, feeling only smooth, delicate skin. No hairs yet. She reached up to her belly, and felt like she could almost imagine the emptiness inside. Her ovaries and womb were gone, somehow. Changed...converted...devoured by her developing masculine genitals.

It was completely impossible. And yet... she stroked the limp shaft, felt it stirring again in her hand. She raised her panties gingerly, felt how snug and odd they felt around her new shape.

Carefully, she left the stall, flushing the evidence behind her, though a thin smell of cum pervaded the stall still. She examined herself carefully in the mirror. The...lump in her throat was more pronounced. Her face seemed subtly different too. Rounder, less angular. She gingerly examined her breasts. They were barely B-cups, now. Her nipples seemed...different too, somehow. She no longer felt much sensitivity in them at all.

"Patrick Masterson..." she said it again. She didnt know how to face this. How to deal with this. It was all too much. The Nurse, she decided. Only Romana could help her. Banish this...sickness. This masculine invader. Yes, she decided firmly. The only person she could trust.

"Patricia...?" a familiar voice said, the door to the bathroom opening.

She quickly lowered her top with a yelp, turning around. "Ah? Who?"

"It's me, Jimena. Are you ok? You were gone for half an hour, the class ended without you."

The Head Girl reddened. She had missed class? That was...that had never happened to her before.

"You don't look well. Maybe you should get the Nurse to send you to Hospital, or something. You've been ill a lot..."

"No! No, its fine..just...a little flu is all." she lied poorly, her voice slipping into a more masculine mode.

"Are you sure? Your voice still sounds...pretty different..."

"I told you, I'm fine, Jimena." she repeated stiffly.

"I'll...see you and the other prefects later. I should...I should go..."

"Wait! Patricia..."Jimena caught her, grabbing hold of her hand. Jimena reddened a little. "Um...I've been meaning to ask you...I know this isn't a great time but, well...me and the girls were thinking of a slumber party or something...take our mind off all thats been happening lately, with the boys and all." she said.

"A slumber party?" Patricia blinked. She felt oddly reluctant to leave, now. Jimena's hand felt soft, warm, reassuring. It had been too long since she had been with her friends...

"We don't mind if you're a little ill, but we would like to see you again. I would like to see you again, chica. Jimena smiled warmly.

"Sure...A Slumber Party...my place...sounds great..." she found herself saying, though she knew it was a foolish idea. But that heart-shaped face, those pouting lips...her mind was jumbled with images once again.

She quickly crossed her legs, aware that she was getting...hard, again.

"I'll catch up with you later. I just need to see the Nurse again first." she promised.

"No worries. Please, take care of yourself, OK? You don't have to be Little Miss Perfect all the time." Jimena chuckled, before leaving Patricia alone once again.

Alone, with a raging hard-on.

She groaned. "This is all your fault, Patrick." she said to the mirror, her eyes flashing. "You're the one making me do all this. I'm...Patricia...the...Queen of Strangeflower..." she forced her voice into a more feminine range, but it was difficult, and felt unnatural now.

She resolved to see the Nurse again as soon as possible. Maybe she could help with this accursed thing in her panties...

She shuddered, as a very lewd and obvious method of "help" forced its way into her brain...

It was going to be an awkward walk to the Nurse's Office.