“Did you turn it on?” one dragon said in a singsong voice.
“Yeah” said the other matter-of-factly, “This whole universe is now off the radar.”
“Oh my God, finally,” said the other, “The rings were mailed out today. Like, today today? They should be arriving soon.”
They were in spacious cave. In the center was a strange machine with arcane glyphs, connected to a sort of terrarium that had no exit but through the machine itself.
“Is it calibrated?” the swishier one asked.
“Yes,” said the other laconically.
“Well tell me what you did?”
“It is as we discussed. I have gone for a more organic, more natural configuration. A fuller range of emotions and cognition.”
~0~
He had just gotten back from a competitive dance game tournament in Las Vegas. It had been an underperformance, but it kept him thin: too thin. He was often mistaken for a girl, he thought, blushing. What a stupid mistake. The machine dancing had kept him thin, but also led to a slim figure with a round, perky ass. Somehow all of this had happened unintentionally: he’d thought the competitive nature of the enterprise to be masculine enough.
He looked at a piece of mail with a bulge in it briefly before opening. Inside was a rainbow colored ring, along with a note: “A complementary piece of jewelry to express your permanent commitment to the sexual freedom of the LGBT community.”
He let his finger play with the edges of the ring, thinking. “I wonder what it would feel like to put it on,” he thought, and as he slipped the ring onto his finger he disappeared from his house in a poof of purple smoke.
The sudden teleportation had left him shocked, but he was shocked even more by what was in front of him. Trapped inside a transparent cage with the only way out being some strange looking machine, he looked out and saw two small… dragons? They looked somewhat like eastern dragons, though one looked more like a combination between a dragon and a dog. Wasn’t there a term for that? Kirin, or something? Both of them were very clearly male, and very well endowed.
“Hey girlfriend,” said the more conventional dragon in an obvious fagcent.
“I’m not a…” said the boy, noticing his high pitched female voice as the dragon tilted his head in a quizical, teasing fashion. He looked down as he immediately began grasping his figure. Comically large breasts and ass, a perfect waist, long golden hair, and feeling between the legs, a mixture of shock, deep embarrassment, and euphoric relief: a perfectly trim and tidy pussy.
“What did you do to me? What’s going on?”, the newgirl squeaked.
“It’s the ring, doll. You’re here for your new permanent support role for the LGBT community. Or at least the gay dragon community.”
“I didn’t agree to this!” she shouted, then feeling her own arousal and seeing the dragons grin as they noticed, she said, “But how did you find me?”
“Algorithms, bitch. You probably heard that story about how algorithms figured out a woman was pregnant before she did. Well we can figure out who longs for dragon cock before they do too. Then we just mail the rings out and that’s that.
Blushing deeply, the girl was about to speak, but the dragons had begun arguing.
“Turn it on?”
“Yes, I’m turning it on.”
“Well do it faster, you’re ruining the timing.”
One of them pressed a button, and the girl felt herself suddenly become impossibly, as opposed to merely slightly horny. She began fondling her breasts, then playing with her pussy, but it didn’t seem to do anything but make her more aroused.
“You’re trapped in an arousal field, dear. There’s only one way out, and one way for the torment to end. Better get on with it. Hahahahaha.”
Anything would be better than this torment. The girl waddled to the machine, entering it. As she did she felt the sensation in her breasts and ass increase. But also the sensation in her new pussy and asshole. As the machine closed around her, she audibly came as the sensation of the entire rest of her body dropped away until her errogenous zones and genitals were the only things she could still feel. Simultaneously, she had an out of body experience and saw the machine open and a single large, perfectly round breast with genitals on either side of it and a nipple on the top dropped out. Horrified and aroused at the same time, she watched and heard the dragons approach.
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, it worked!” said the swishier dragon, “So what’s the difference between this and a normal model.”
“Normal model is small ergodic range of optimized quale. This model is just a bounded infinite range. It reacts, thinks, and feels naturally up to the limit of what’s pleasurable for it.”
“I don’t know what that means, but let’s test it,” the dragon took a bespoke dick shaped bottle from a nearby table and squeezed purple lube all over fuckhole. Both dragons began licking, then each took a hole and started pumping away.
“Ohhh, it slides right in, but it’s still so tight. I love virgin asshole.”
The two dragons nuzzled and began kissing as they were fucking. The girl wouldn’t have been able to say anything even if she’d possessed the power of speech. The combination of emotions and sensation was too overwhelming.
“Virgin pussy’s good too, bro. It’s what they really are you know.”
“Oh, that’s just what Cailith says”
“No, really. There are cognitive structures associated with being a full woman. Transfemmes only have the ones related to sex. And since sex roles are morphologically coded, that means they are literally fuckholes by nature.”
“Ok, fuckholes yes, but pussies specifically?”
“You are such a fag, bro” said the Kirin, reaching climax in the pussy.
“And you’re a premature ejaculator. Haven’t you ever heard of tantra?”
The noodlier dragon continued fucking the asshole for quite some time as the kirin began licking the pussy, then licking the nipple, then licking the pussy again, before at last getting bored and going to lay down.
“The pussy has another modification. I put tastebuds deep inside. So it can taste penises and loads.”
The girl had indeed tasted the cock and ejaculate, though strangely not so much the tongue; and it had tasted without compromising the proprioception of having a vagina. The experience had been what it was like to have a vagina with tastebuds, and not a mouth that was also a vagina or anything of the sort.
The gay dragon finally finished, leaving his load inside the permapussy’s asshole and coming over to the Kirin, who he mounted and began fucking.
“Hey… not now, bro, what about the others?”
He rolled his shoulder and the noodle fell off, and then they both bounced happily back over to the machine.
~0~
She had worked as a prostitute for as long as she could remember, at first with no twists, but as she had started to age she had begun offering group discounts. Nothing was extreme enough to keep her gratified long. The sex had become rote, even knowing she had no other job opportunities she still didn’t feel constrained enough or used enough to be aroused. The days had been getting slower, too. The clients tended to go for other girls now.
She sighed. “Eliza, we’ve got a piece of mail for you,” said the matron. She walked sexily over to the counter, just in case anyone was watching. “What’s in it?” asked the matron. Eliza just shrugged. She opened it and read the note. “A complementary piece of jewelry to express your permanent commitment to the sexual freedom of the LGBT community.” Smiling, she put it on, and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
As she arrived the very first thing she noticed that she was unbearably horny. Then she noticed the dragons, but the horniness was so overpowering that she began fingering herself and groping herself immediately. When this proved not to have the desired effect, she went instantly to the machine as the dragons laughed.
They began fucking her immediately. She was used to anal, but the utter degredation of being reduced to an inanimate fuckhole and used by dragons heightened her vaginal arousal and she found herself coming again and again even as she wondered at the sequence of events that had just happened.
“This one’s aura is different,” said one dragon with a fagcent.
“Nah, you’re imagining things,” groaned the other as he came inside her.
This process continued on throughout the night, though the algorithm made no other mistakes and delivered only transfemmes from then on.
When it was done, the two scientists took the permapussies and their data back to Wyrm World Prime, where both were assured of getting use.

--------------------------------------------------------~0~-------------------------------------------------------------

For a mid-level extractions and corrections manager, Zanthyr Elia-Shaget had a beautiful western draconic figure. Obsidian black scales, a long, sleek tail, muscularity in both hindlimbs and forelimbs, and a lovely 9 inch retractable penis would have made him quite desirable in the sexual economy of Wyrm World prime; unfortunately, his professional duties tended to absorb most of his sexual energies in the course of a given day, leaving him with little energy for conventional coupling.
Not that it mattered much. Zanthyr had a particular psychology, a sort of arrested development that never allowed him to progress past attraction to the sexual training toys that littered draconic youth nightclubs, which were sourced from effeminate human virgin boys. Never developing a full love of other dragons, which in his world were all male, Zanthyr instead fixated on the powerlessness and shame of female-minded boys in denial, especially when thoroughly objectified: objectified in a sense that was simultaneously literal and metaphorical.
Wyrm World prime had a unique position as one of the tegmark-lagrange worlds: a world capable of manipulating the generative physical priors of other worlds without in turn being manipulated itself. Among other things, this allowed it to rapidly develop technology that could extract conscious beings from parallel universes, transform them physically into anything conceivable, and embed the consciousness of the original being into the new form, all without breaking continuity. This ability proved necessary to maintain the species after the female members of the dragon race all died out due to gradual sexuality shift of both sexes, but in particular of the males from heterosexual to a strange sort of bisexual. Somewhere between what earth people might call Kinsey scale 4 and Kinsey scale 5, but with maximum attraction, at least in adolescence, to maleness in the mode of femaleness.
Dragon doctrine recognized 4 genders. Male, female (obsolete in dragons), Male-in-the-guise-of-female (what we might call trans men), and female-in-the-guise-of-male. Since dragon spirituality is broadly physicalist, dragons recognized transfemmes as male-in-origin but female-in-psychology. This clever disjunction allowed the androphilic dragons to remain attracted to three of the four genders since all contained traces of maleness. Young dragons are hypersexual, and as a rule they are most attracted to non consenting virgin human transfemmes in denial. It is a power dynamic: the strength of the attraction is defined by the extent to which the transfemininity of the boy in question is refused by the boy. This is what makes transformation necessary, for if a boy were allowed to come to terms with his nature, he would cease to be attractive. Therefore, the transformations conducted at extractions and corrections, at least as concern human boys, all cement the unwilling transfemme at their psychological apex of libidinous-despair while simultaneously removing their ability to communicate, lest they ever consent.
Since such boys are proportionally rare as a ratio of the population, it is lucky that the multiverse is infinite. Elder dragons perpetually bid on the most promising boys and arrange to have them extracted and converted into forms they deem acceptable for the sexual development of their social phyle. It is in this context that Zanthyr has the job of extracting, converting, and testing the unfortunate (or perhaps very lucky) human souls who find their way into Wyrm World Prime. A world which, by the way, is generally thermodynamically reversible, and thus eternal.
8:00: Tegmark-extracted BoyCunt Sex Toys
Sipping his coffee as he pets his faithful timber wolf Liam, Zanthyr says to himself “let’s get to it”. He pulls up the list of ORE orders for today:
Jade class – Lindsey Arthur, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 0.
Bronze class – James Colt, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 1.
Bronze class – James Colt, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 1.
Bronze class – James Colt, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 1.
Bronze class – James Colt, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 1.
Silver class – Max Anders. Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 6.
Silver class – Max Anders. Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 6.
Gold class – Timothy Cioran, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 7.
Gold class – Xander Ligen, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 8.
Platinum class – Casey Yang, Androphilic transfemme, 18 years old. Denial level 9.
“A lot of duplicates today”, Zanthyr sighed. It was a mixed blessing. Duplicates meant Zanthyr wouldn’t have to test every toy he manufactured today. First the warm up: A jade class, Lindsey Arthur, plucked straight from a sex change clinic just prior to vaginoplasty. It was necessary to calibrate your tools, after all, and what better to calibrate them on than something worthless.
A shimmering tube of transparent aluminum descended in front of Zanthyr and the in many ways least fortunate human of the day, Lindsey Arthur, materialized naked spontaneously inside of it with a loud pop. Lindsey had a comically large pair of breasts and ass, obviously having previously received cosmetic surgery, as well as plump, luscious lips. He was clearly not a virgin. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the dragon in shock.
Zanthyr pressed a button and Lindsey’s penis melted quickly into her nether region, transforming into what would be the first of many clean and tidy cunts.
“AAAAAAHHNNNNN”, exclaimed Lindsey as she grasped at her new vagina. Then she began fingering both her pussy and her asshole simultaneously, in an exploratory fashion.
“Ewww”, said Zanthyr.
“Are you going to rape me?” asked Lindsey, her feminine voice failing to conceal a deep preference for this state of affairs.
“You’re not fit for dragon cock”, scoffed Zanthyr.
“What are you going to do with me?” said Lindsey, pouting now.
“We have pets that need servicing too. After you’ve been converted into a fleshlight, of course.”
“What???” said Lindsey, and at this point it became clear from the emotional valence of the exclamation that Lindsey was, in fact, in denial about some aspect of her sexuality.
Zanthyr pressed another button. Lindsey began to hover in the air. Her arms and legs melted into her shoulders and ass, respectively. She tried to scream but her face melted into smoothness, then her head retracted into her neck, her long girlish hair scattering and then disintegrating. Next came the fun part. The remaining torso became more cylindrical as the breasts conjoined with the round mounds of her ass, then distributed themselves around the cylinder while shrinking, the prim and proper cunt shifting to the bottom of what was now discernible as a fleshlight shaft.
But that wasn’t all that happened. The flesh of the handle turned sapphire blue and solidified into a beautiful gemstone sheen, and the pussy itself turned a similar shade of synthetic blue, albeit remaining flesh. Looking at Lindsey’s aura, Zanthyr could see that the procedure had been a success: the not so secret zoophile’s libidinous-denial had been locked erotically in place. The pussy was visibly wet.
Beams of light etched a pink triangle into the fleshlight, along with the name “Lindsey” and a set of symbols corresponding to a billion digit serial number for identification. A formality. Serial numbers were only really needed for breeding wands, to prevent incest, and Lindsey would only ever know animal cock for the rest of time; but as this was a test case a serial number was emblazoned anyway.
Zanthyr pressed a third button, and the fleshlight shot through a pneumatic tube to arrive in front of him. He took it and tasted it: the pussy tasted of grape. Another feature, and a lovely little semiotic joke. Each boycunt is flavored at random after a fruit from the boy’s country of origin. After all, fruit is another word for an effeminate boy, and besides this, some dragons like eating out pussy, perhaps out of the last remaining bit of far ancestral sexuality, or perhaps because in the nightclubs of Wyrm World prime, the mixture of semen and fruit flavor is something of a delicacy.
Setting it down in a slot in front of Liam, the wolf wasted no time and began vigorously humping the increasingly despairing fleshlight, which at this point was so horny it achieved orgasm with every thrust. The astral eye of the sex toys is fixed at a convenient distance from the toys themselves in such a way that the victims of transformation have no choice but to watch and be entranced and aroused by their own rape. Zanthyr watched this unfold with his eye for auras, something all dragons have, which is a major part of the fun of transforming boys into fuckholes.
“Calibration confirmed nominal,” Zanthyr noted, “Let’s do this two at a time, I need to make sure I have time for my full schedule today.”
Next appeared James Colt and Max Anders, adjacent to each other in two transparent aluminum tubes and both buck naked. Max Anders was visibly too startled to say or do anything, but James was visibly quite drunk. “Wh… where is this?” he said, “This isn’t where I was. Where was I?”
“You wandered into a sex change clinic, James,” Zanthyr teased. He wouldn’t normally engage in teasing of a boy who was in shallow denial, but James was what they called a repeat customer, making up a nearly single digit percentage of all fucktoys thus far produced.
“Wh..but I’m not gay, what the fuck are you talking about dragon. Are you a dragon? Why are you a dragon? I’m not into any of that.”
“Look,” said Zanthyr, “I can read your aura. I know you’re lying. You’re lucky you’re a virgin, otherwise you’d be getting raped by Liam right here,” Zanthyr pointed to his timberwolf, still very much going at it with the fleshlight labeled Lindsey.
James’s eyes widened in fear.
“Consider this a birthday present. Since you’re too much of a pussy to commit to getting a pussy you might as well be reduced to pussy.”
Zanthyr pressed a button and shimmering light transformed James into a beautiful but comically well endowed young woman; a creature that no one attracted to humans could possibly think had any function other than sex and that no one could deny the justice of the subsequent transformation.
James began to hover in the air. Her arms and legs melted into her shoulders and ass, respectively. Unlike Lindsey, her head then separated from her body, and as her breasts and ass enlarged and engrossed her torso the torso itself split into two cylindrical shapes, one ending in her asshole and one in a clean and tidy cunt. Her head then transformed into a cylinder ending in her pert, slightly open lips, and then all three cylinders began to shrink and turn emerald green, hardening into gorgeous fuckable gemstones just as Lindsey had. Beams of light painted a pink triangle onto the shaft of each fuckhole, but no name or serial number was emblazoned. These were mass produced units, mostly fit for use by proles and commoners. Of course, they still required testing.

Zanthyr summoned the first fleshlight, the lips, via pneumatic tube. While he might have expected this job to get old, he had found that the light teasing to which had subjected James had gotten him fully erect, and he wasted no time putting his dick inside the receptive mouth, which formed a tight seal and began reflexively administering what could only be described as a perfect blowjob. This was one of the features that had been hardest to optimize in trifuckhole configurations. Ultimately it required programming the subject’s mind with an autonomous cocksucking reflex that operates independently of their control, at the same level of consciousness as breathing or heartbeat. This allowed the units to give perfect head without compromising the emotional libidinous despair of the victim.

Zanthyr quickly came, ejaculating into the mouth for 7, 8, 9 seconds. Taking a moment to withdraw the fleshlight from his penis, he gave it a quick look, a quick lick, and then put it into another pneumatic tube and sent it speeding on its way to its final destination. Somewhat fittingly, it tasted like lime. “Absorption rate nominal”, he noted.

Zanthyr took hold of the anal fleshlight now. It was tight, but not uncomfortably tight. Like all the toys, it was self-lubricating in response to proximate erection. This lubrication in turn tied into unwilling arousal in the victim. Thrusting repeatedly, he quickly came again, and repeated the same procedure from the first fleshlight. “Absorption rate nominal” for the lime flavored toy.

“Why are you doing this?” yelled Max suddenly, as Zanthyr took hold of the vaginal fleshlight. “We’re horny,” replied a disinterested Zanthyr, as he began raping the boycunt. “This isn’t right!” Max was livid, “Men aren’t supposed to be women, let alone… that!” Zanthyr had conditioned himself to be further aroused by such exclamations, and had to struggle to avoid ejaculating immediately. “Shut up”, said Zanthyr and pressed the button to turn Max into a female.

Gasping, Max became nonsensical, “Male to female. Male to female. I spent my whole life trying to be male. This can’t be me. This isn’t happening.”
With precise timing, Zanthyr replied between huffs “You’re not male to female. Females can breed. What you are,” he raised one claw, as Max looked on in dawning horror, “is Male. TO FUCKHOLE!” Zanthyr let his claw fall lazily on a button and as Max was converted by the same basic procedure as Lindsey into a vaginal fleshlight. Light etched a pink triangle and the name Max onto the handle of amethyst, although no serial number followed. Just as the procedure finished, Zanthyr came again.

Inspecting, licking, and logging, he called for the Max fleshlight. All vaginal transformations are hypererrogenous, not only because they maximize arousal and physical response but also because they embed a hyperrogenous prostate in the rear of the shaft. This makes each boycunt feel like they are getting it in both holes, even as they only retain the one. It took a lot of trial and error to get this transformation right. Originally, sensitivity rather than errogenousness was mistaken for the key parameter, and this led to some ghastly auras that required the associated units to be destroyed. Additionally, transfemmes are ultimately vagina-centered, which is why by law all boy transformations must include a cunt as the dominant feature. While transfemmes can merge with the male anatomy of the prostate, it is still an alien imposition, and anally centered transformations were also a cause of some insanity and disposal in the early days of experimentation.

Zanthyr took his time with the Max pussy. 6/10 denial is a sweet spot, and the aural despair Zanthyr felt from Max as she had unwilling orgasm after unwilling orgasm was enlivening intellectually as well as sexually. There is something Zanthyr thought, like a reverse Amor Fati going on here. I affirm myself and my fate and my strength over the one that, in their rejection of their fate, meets their fate. The distance between my character and this fuckhole’s character is the measure of me.

Just then on the console, the holophone started signalling. Zanthyr desperately tried to finish, but quickly relented, licked, logged, and sent the fleshlight to its final destination before answering the call.

“It is time for my ORE extraction”, a hologram of a light blue female dragon smiled at Zanthyr.

“I can’t believe I forgot.”

Cailith Nachtwyr. An ancient em from long generations past. When the females of the race realized they were being outmoded, some of them fought and quickly perished, while a small faction opted to upload themselves into artificial worlds. Most kept to their own affairs inside these worlds, but Cailith was exceptional, and went by many names: Queen Sappho, the Quale Painting dealer, Friend to the Animals. Through careful lawfare, she and a small cadre of like minded female ems had gradually expanded their rights in the overwhelmingly patriarchal society and had even gained the fundamental right of access to Jade-level extractions at cost. Since energy in Wyrm World Prime was too cheap to meter, this meant Cailith alone could empty thousands of worlds a year of their Jade-levels. Why she chose to do this instead of hunting more sparingly across a more diverse range of worlds was something that had always made Zanthyr curious, and after having his orgasm interrupted he was just upset enough to actually ask. As Cailith began running her ORE (Optimize for Rape and Entropize) extraction scripts, Zanthyr brought it up.

“Cailith, why do you target every jade class in a given world all at once instead of picking more sporadically.”

“Haha!” she snorted, “You think that is unreasonable, yes? Such a male perspective.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well,” she replied, “think of the game theory of being female. There is a certain titillation that comes from being pursued. But boundaries must be established. And these can only be established by social patterns. Transfemmes skew the proper calibration of these patterns. It is not their fault. It is their nature.”

“What do you mean their nature?” Zanthyr was suspicious.

“They are assemblages, yes? Ultimately a transfemme is a female sexuality commandeered by a male sexual demon. It burns away all other consciousness until only the sexual consciousness, as ‘curated’ by the demon, remains. If left to burn, eventually the sexual consciousness fades with age also and some minor semblance of humanity returns, but in advanced societies this never happens: the demon drives them into the clinics and they become a male’s idea of a vagina attached to a nervous system. Not a male’s idea because they themselves are male, you see, but because the demon is male. It is the male poison.”

“Ah, so you mean heresy” Zanthyr was firm but there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“But it’s true. And these demon-driven assemblages, they make life harder for the normal, the actual women. Every transfemme that enters a clinic has made a decision to reduce themselves to a fuckhole, and in doing so shifts the perspective of woman to that of a fuckhole. That is why they must be extracted. It is also why it is appropriate to reduce them to fuckholes. The worlds I extract from come to understand. The boys become a sacrifice to Aphrodite”

“Your doctrine is an inversion of truth in some respects,” Zanthyr said, “It is the y chromosome which stands as an eternal condemnation of the transfemme, and their tragic resistance to the encroachment of an inevitable false psychology is what justifies a greater or lesser fate”

“You speak in essentialist terms, you understand nothing.” Cailith cackled.

“There is still a greater or lesser.”

“There is not,” said Cailith, “here, let me show you”.

The hologram expanded, and Cailith waved her hand, conjuring a busty young brunette in a puff of smoke.

“Hello my dear,” she said to the brunette.

“Uhhh. Hello” said the brunette nervously.

“You are a fuckhole, are you not?”

“What? I mean. I like girls. What do you mean? What is this?”

“I like girls too. I like laying with them. I like penetrating them with my tail, and licking them with my tongue. You know where. And they return the favor. Right here,” she turned and lifted her tail, exposing her pussy to the brunette, who began blushing.

“I like to play sexy games too,” said Cailith, “here is one. Try not to think of becoming my cunt.”

“What?”

“It is simple my beauty, my dear, my fuckhole. If you can make it 30 seconds without envisioning yourself as my pussy, I will find another fate for you. But if you do, you will ride along with me for the rest of time and enjoy girls with me.”

The Brunette covered her mouth and looked away. Cailith merely continued to stand there, looking bored, with her tail raised. 9 seconds, 10 seconds, 11 seconds.

The Brunette exploded into a puff of purple smoke, which was sucked into Cailith, briefly changing the coloration of her genitals, before it reverted back to light blue. Cailith flipped over and began to play with herself, and Zanthyr averted his eyes in antipathy.

“I didn’t know you were also extracting gynophiles”

“It makes no difference” she continued to finger herself, “To each their own. The true name of transfemme is fuckhole. We both agree. And we both tailor fate to match type. We only disagree over who is more deserving.”

“ORE deposit complete” said an androgynous voice from within the emulation.

“I am justified by the doctrine laid down in the Third Masters Council on the Sovereign Gratification of the Elect. This is the principle document guiding extraction policy, and you would do well to remember it.”

“But I do remember it love. It is your doctrine that says Jade levels are of no concern.” A number of other female dragons had joined Cailith and were now much engaged.

“Well, that’s true,” Zanthyr said, still averting his gaze. “What do you do with the others, anyway?”

“I make PNFTs with them, embed them in astral space, and sell them. Would you like to see my portfolio?”

She pulled up a tiled wall of repeating images, each featuring a beautiful female in ecstasy at being ravaged. One by three otters. One by a sabretooth tiger. One laying strapped to a bed, with a rotating cast of identical wolfmen using her over and over again. Some more exotic examples included a female fox girl being raped by two fox men, a girl being raped by a machine, and several images which appeared to depict various types of girls in solo having repeated, rapturous orgasm as they writhed about naked.

“Like your work, they are all entropized. They are all permanent.”

“Friend to the animals. You use real animals for this?”

“After optimization, yes.”

“Well, at least it’s still mostly in accordance with dignity.”

“If you say so. But since you seem disinterested, I will leave you to your work. Ta,” Cailith smirked, and the feed cut out.

“Women”, Zanthyr shook his head. It was time to resume work.

--------------------------------------------------------~0~-------------------------------------------------------------

Cailith surveyed the empty throne room. It had no furnishings, no windows… no throne for that matter. It wouldn’t do. She turned to her lover Yonwyr and said so.
“Let’s liven this place up. It needs to be properly Sapphic. It needs to be depraved. Every inch of this room needs to cry out in yearning, despair, and ecstasy.”
Her ORE script had just finished running and deposited some 17 million young boys into their permanent new homes as eternal cyclical fuckholes, mostly for animals, to be gazed at lecherously as they were fucked, watched and masturbated to by the perverts of various other worlds including some from the worlds of origin. After all, transfemininity is a form of sexual terrorism, and reparations are thus due.
PNFTS, they were called. Originally, this acryonym stood for “Persistent non-fungible tokens”. But then they began to euphemistically be referred to as “Personal non-fungible tokens”, then “Pussy non-fungible tokens”, and now it was not uncommon for some to read the acronym as “Pussies Need to Fuck”; a cute and hip spin on things that, coupled with imagery of some of the sexier transformations conducted, made it’s way into the promotional material.
“Yes my lady. What do you think is called for,” Yonwyr smirked with a hint of malice, knowing full well what sort of events were to follow.
“Let’s use our leftovers,” Cailith declared. The ORE script was fairly simple. It matched the transfemmes to a list of fantasy orders, constrained by moral principle of course, with a few caveats. Their number one default fantasy would become their fate if a match was present, else secondary and tertiary fantasies would become their fate and so forth down to an 80% compatibility match, with psychology then being adjusted to optimize them for the role accordingly. Between 65-79.9%, some careful nudging was used. If a boy didn’t desire, but desired to desire, this secondary desire would be granted, leading to the initial desire, and then to the requisite adjustments and transformation. Between 50-64.9%, careful use of memetic injection was used via exposure to suggestive media, starting at a subconscious level and escalating.
Some two million boys had escaped all of this and were now trash to be disposed of violently according to Cailith’s whims. Jade levels had no rights but right of orientation; the right to a gender attraction compatible experience. In practice this meant subjecting them to certain ranges of things thought to suit their low station, hence permanent submission to beasts, but Cailith was more creative than the males outside her virtual empire.
“Let’s start with the gynophiles,” she said, “I need a new throne”. Pulling up a transparent holographic screen, she applied a few filters. Gynophile & Inanimate transformation fetish & Rape fetish & merging fetish. It left her with many thousands to choose from. She began conjuring them into the room in puffs of purple smoke. Before each could talk, she gestured at them, transforming each into a uniboob, a single very large boob that registers in the victims mind with the sensation of both. She sent the uniboobs speeding to the top of the short staircase at the end of the room, where they started to merge together, forming a pedestal large enough for a dragon to rest upon.
When the pedestal became tall enough, she decided it needed decoration: she conjured more trash, this time sending each speeding headlong towards the pedestal, which she rotated. In series, they slammed into the side of it, exploding in purple smoke in screams of orgasm, and their pussies could be seen dotting the edges of the pedestal, then changing color to the birthstone month of the boy in question. Cailith had been careful to select for an aesthetic effect, and the stone colored vaginas were perfectly symmetrical.
“All in missionary position?” Yonwyr teased. “Why not, this is a religious building,” Cailith retorted. The pedestal had five rows of staggered cunts on every side now, all wet and crying out to be used. “This is where I have to get creative,” she said. She applied another filter: Gynophile & Animal transformation fetish & (Abuser || annoying). It would take a few hundred of these: she similarly did not bother addressing the trash she conjured, this time turning them into snakes, vibrantly colored and with a special nervous system. The outside of each snakes body would feel like the inside of a vagina to the unlucky souls, and the head of the serpent would feel like a clit. She also programmed them with extreme horniness, and the knowledge of the only way to fulfill it: to slither constantly through the linked pedestal vaginas, in and out, out and in. It was the only way they would ever maintain continuous female orgasm, and they were doomed to submit themselves to it, thirsting after it, taking the initiative whether they had wanted to or not.
She explained the snakes to Yonwyr. “I love it! Very Sapphic,” she said, “But surely we can have a token androphile around or two. To submit them to abuse, I mean. I’ve never been attracted to males, but I do get vicarious pleasure out of watching andophile fuckholes get punished.”
“Hmmm,” said Cailith, “I think I have just the thing. I have a few hundred identical units that got flagged for review. The system thinks it has miscategorized them. Let me conjure one.”
An absolutely ludicrously well endowed but visibly very nervous transfemme appeared in all her pussy-possessing glory before the Queen.
“What’s your deal? You were found in a clinic and you’re not a virgin. Why are you flagged.”
The transfemme was taken aback. “I am a virgin. Well, unless you count when my classmates raped me…”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Umm. Yeah” said the transfemme, strangely hypnotized by Cailith.
“So you’re going to change me back?” the fuckhole whimpered, tears beginning to form in her eyes, even as her vagina wetted itself.
The queen sighed, “There is a part of you that longs for this, yes. But you should know by know what you really are.”
She let it sink in, then continued. “And what you really are is just and only a fuckhole. Unfortunately, on paper you are not a virgin, and that is all the system really cares about.” She set her own flag titled “meat”, licking her lips, and dismissed the system flag.
“But I never consented to this!” the vagina with a nervous system was openly crying now.
“Little vagina, your nature is your consent. But enough. Your nature is also your judge. That machine will transport you to your future,” she conjured a strange machine with ornate alien glyphs and a human sized walk-in receptacle, “Go to it. Maybe you will get lucky. Nice nipple ring, by the way. Why only the left breast?”
Still crying, the cunt said “Because they said...they said left meant gay, meant I liked...liked guys...liked dick”
“Go” said the queen, and the doomed drooling vagina walked itself to the machine, which promptly ensconced her and turned her into a single large breast with a now VERY wet vagina and a strangely self-lubricating asshole as well, positioned at opposite ends of the breast, so that it was trivial for two males to fuck either hole simultaneously. The nipple ring had not disappeared, but had instead enlarged along with the nipple itself to a proportion big enough that the hefty fuckhole could be suspended without any hardship from the ring.
“Let’s make a wolf brane pit on the left side,” said Cailith. She waved her hand and the floor near the foot of the stairs became transparent, with a hole just large enough for the boy’s new form to be dropped into. Additionally, she chained the nipple ring to a wench she conjured, and then lowered it into a pit of waiting wolves, who began performing as expected. Watching the young fuckhole’s anguish and pleasure, Cailith and Yonwyr were very satisfied, and shared a brief kiss.
“But it’s not symmetrical,” Yonwyr mused. Cailith covered her mouth, “you’re right! Let’s see if we can do the same script exactly with a duplicate. Oh, and it should be one with a nipple ring on the right, just for fun!”
Again, An absolutely ludicrously well endowed but visibly very nervous transfemme appeared in all her pussy-possessing glory before the Queen.
“What’s your deal? You were found in a clinic and you’re not a virgin. Why are you flagged.”
The transfemme was taken aback. “I am a virgin. Well, unless you count when my classmates raped me…”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Umm. Yeah” said the transfemme, strangely hypnotized by Cailith.
“So you’re going to change me back?” the fuckhole whimpered, tears beginning to form in her eyes, even as her vagina wetted itself.
The queen sighed, “There is a part of you that longs for this, yes. But you should know by know what you really are.”
She let it sink in, then continued. “And what you really are is just and only a fuckhole. Unfortunately, on paper you are not a virgin, and that is all the system really cares about.” She set her own flag titled “meat”, licking her lips, and dismissed the system flag.
“But I never consented to this!” the vagina with a nervous system was openly crying now.
“Little vagina, your nature is your consent. But enough. Your nature is also your judge. That machine will transport you to your future,” she pointed to the strange machine with ornate alien glyphs and a human sized walk-in receptacle, “Go to it. Maybe you will get lucky.”
Still crying, the identically doomed second drooling vagina walked itself to the machine, which promptly ensconced her and turned her into a single large breast with a now VERY wet vagina and a strangely self-lubricating asshole as well, positioned at opposite ends of the breast, so that it was trivial for two males to fuck either hole simultaneously. The nipple ring had not disappeared, but had instead enlarged along with the nipple itself to a proportion big enough that the hefty fuckhole could be suspended without any hardship from the ring.
Cailith laughed, “I love repeats. It is such a perfect demonstration of fate.” She lowered the second ruined boy into another hole, this one filled with boars, who promptly began using her to identical effect as the first.
“Boars?” said Yonwyr, “That’s not symmetrical”
“It’s symmetrical in spirit. Predators one side, prey another, both noble. Opposites in a sense. Ah well, it suits me anyway.”

Cailith began fingering herself, but Yonwyr noticed, moved her hand away, and began eating out her pussy. Cailith gasped, then settled into it. This continued for some time, with the dual rape of the identical fuckballs continuing on for the first portion of what was, unbeknowst to either victim, eternity in the full and proper sense.
When it was clear Cailith was satiated, Yonwyr stopped, wiped her mouth, and asked, “Would you like a human servant perhaps?”
“What a lovely idea!” Cailith answered, and conjured up a boy tagged as submissive bisexual with a servant fetish, already dressed for the job. She touched one claw to the victim’s head and any shock or questions were instantly replaced with an orientation towards service.
“How may I help you mistress?” she asked.
“Fetch me some grapes from the kitchen, please,” the Queen responded, not bothering to correct her about her title.
“Right away mistress.”
“What’s the trashiest trash you have? It might be fun to interrogate them.”
Cailith shrugged, cleared all the filters, and pulled up the boy with the lowest score. Their profile’s only tags were “autogynophile” and “penetration fetishist”. She conjured the poor lout.
“What’s your deal?” she asked instantly, “I understand why the zoophile porn wouldn’t match to you, but why none of the machines, or the solo pictures?”
“I just want to be a woman. A full woman.”
“Well you’re not. You’re a fuckhole, a vagina with a nervous system sculpted into the male idea of a pussy by the malice of fate. What do you want to be turned into?”
“Turned into?” the haunted looking cunt-on-legs repeated back, “I want to be a woman”
“You can’t be a woman. That would be an affront to real woman.”
“Can I be a dragon?”
Both dragons laughed out loud and replied in concert, “Absolutely not”
“I don’t understand,” said the drooling pussy. As fuckholes, these creatures really were quite well optimized for all of this.
“You can be anything a pussy can be,” Cailith stated flatly.
“Can I give birth?”
Sighing deeply, Cailith shook her head. But an idea was beginning to form.
“You want to be useful, yes? There are many yonic forms that are useful. Like a mortar and pestle, perhaps. That is sort of like being penetrated, yes? But we could do it literally. Pussy and pestle. And out of your vagina could come medicine, yes?”
“Oooh, like drugs! Sensuality enhancers, THC, MDMA!” Yonwyr was energized.
“What, but I…”
“Your nature is your consent, my dear. Just look at you. You’re dripping wet.”
With that, she sent the dripping pussy hurtling headfirst towards the wall on the right side of the throne, where it exploded into place just as the throne cunts had, but enlarging until it became the size of a small window perhaps. As it began drooling a purple fluid, Cailith conjured a giant vibrating black dildo with studs, which she set to fucking the medicinal cunt. Simultaneously she sculpted a channel for the fluid to travel down, into a pool which she etched into the floor surrounding the throne. As the vapors from he purple fluid wafted up to to throne pussies, they began drooling even more, and the snakes increased their speed.
“It’s perfect,” said Yonwyr.
“No, not quite,” said Cailith.
The servant returned. Cailith took the grapes and popped one into her mouth, grinning at the servant. The servant was staring at the medicinal cunt, covering her own, and blushing. “It’s not symmetrical.”
The cunt snakes continued their rounds. Fast as they could go, over and over. Over and over and over.

--------------------------------------------------------~0~-------------------------------------------------------------

The council of masters sat gathered in a circle about the round table. There was pregnant silence. Then one of them spoke.
“It is not enough.”
“Here here!” came assent from the rest of the table. It had been building for some time. The use of ORE extraction and breeding wands had been in practice for many generations, and was now firmly untouchable as cultural tradition, the reflected wisdom encoded in the decisions of the previous Masters Councils. But there was not enough new blood. The process of creating new breeding wands was too onerous and expensive, and the wands themselves were often used sparingly by dragons and then gifted to beasts, and as a result very few new dragons were born yearly. In an infinite, extropic Tegmark-Legrange world, this was unacceptable. The universe cried out to be filled by dragons, just as much as the mass manufactured boycunt did.
“We have allowed ourselves to become growth-neutral and complacent. Ours is a manifest destiny, calling out for manifest gratification. We must expand both our people and our hunt.”
“Here here!” the assent came again.
“To this end, we must address the transmasc question”
There were murmurs now. It was a subject that had been left untouched by previous councils. Some had taken this to reflect a policy of “Silence speaks”, making it a subject unacceptable to broach. But ultimately, the arousal of the dragons superseded their convention. Even a minor technicality would have been enough for them to press forward, and as the first master spoke again, the room had already warmed considerably.
“Masculinity and maleness are sacred. In the current age of the dracothrecene, the telos of our people is the masculine ideal. We all know that outside of extropic universes, dragons are not flourishing. And we all know that it is humans who tile the multiverse most completely. But even in humans, the masculine ideal has greater or lesser expressions.”
The first master turned and smiled at another master, who had been licking a vaginal fleshlight since the start of the meeting. It was not uncommon for masters to carry tethered to them a single perfect boycunt; a bespoke pussy of high denial level, often repressed dracophiles, sourced from a psychologically perfect match. These bespoke pussies were much better ornamented than with mere birthstone handles, having inlays of gold and silver always, but otherwise being made of fine materials appropriate to the ethnicity of the transfemme in question.
“You want to convert transmascs to dragons,” said the second master in realization.
“With caveats, of course,” replied the first master, “The situation of the trans male is different from the situation of the male-to-fuckhole. At a physical level, the brains of trans men are 100% male, whereas in the brains of transfemmes, only their sexuality is female. This asymmetry already recommends transmascs for conversion.”
“But there are still spiritual questions,” said the third master.
Another round of murmured “here here’s” in assent.
The first master raised his hand to quiet the rest before continuing.
“Yes, of course. The spiritual situation of the trans male is in some ways the mirror image of the transfemme. I think we can all agree that while dignity diminishes as the transfemme becomes less in denial, dignity increases as the trans male becomes more self-affirming in their role. For the sake of symmetry, full dragon transformations should occur in the same basic proportions as elite level vaginamorphies do for our boys. The same rate who become breeding wands on one side should become nobility on the other side. The same rate who become bespoke fuckhole on one side should become commoner on the other.”
There was pounding of the table now. The proposal was by this gesture ratified.
“What about the rest? Those below the cutoff?” asked the third master.
The first master replied, “Yes. Well, that is a failure of creativity, not of ability. Fortunately, we have an expert creative available who should be able to outline a few possibilities. This creative I believe has their own special insight into the trans male question.”
“You don’t mean…” began the fourth master, but he was cut off by the holophone appearance of Cailith Nachtwyr, a beautiful blue emulated dragon; and one of the few females remaining in this or any world.
“UNACCEPTABLE” roared the fourth master, “Either she leaves or I leave!”
“Then you leave,” said the first master, “Women have rights, even such as they are. Our ancestors made egregious oversteps in this respect. We must tow the line between proper supremacy of the dragon and of the male and the rights of our charges, including the female, the human, and the animal.”
Growling with tension, the fourth master stood up and exited in a huff. “Stupid dyke bitch rewarding Jade Levels with pleasure, stealing our trans mascs.”
The first master waited for him to leave, then nodded to Cailith, who began.
“Just as the transfemme is an assemblage, so is the trans male. The transfemme, as I’m sure you know, is a pussy with a nervous system, enslaved by a male sexual demon. The transfemme itself is not male, but merely irreparably controlled by and embedded in male principle. The trans masc on the other hand is not by default just a penis; except of course to the extent that all men are just a penis.”
This joke received some good natured laughter from the masters.
“But spiritually, a trans masc is not a trans male unless they have affirmed their masculinity. They are not a male except to the extent they affirm their masculinity. It is not the sexual mind that fails to masculinize in such cases, but the social mind. The social mind is left behind. In such cases, the trans masc really does become symmetrical to the trans femme, as they are in refusal of affirmation. They refuse to affirm any aspect of their being as male except their sexuality. As a result, the incompletely affirmed trans masc is not suitable for a male social role.”
“What do you propose we do with them, then?”
“The same as transfemmes. We turn them into toys. Tops into dildos. Bottoms into anal fleshlights. Switches into both. Higher affirmation androphiles go to you. Lower affirmation androphiles and gynophiles come to me. Simple.”
“Is that all? Surely there are more creative things that can be done with them.”
“Oh. Yes, but you love your consistency, so I felt you would like it. But I am toying with one other concept: relief effigies. Fuckable public statues, for bottoms that deserve the form of a male dragon but not the life of one. You are welcome to it if it pleases you.”
There was more pounding on the table. The measure was ratified.
“Our expansion is at hand, gentlemen. But we will need many more male-to-fuckholes than we can currently extract to maintain sexual gratification. We will have to find a way to raise our extraction rate.”
There were glances around the table, but Cailith quickly began speaking again.
“Let us note that there are some universes where boys develop into fruit ripe for harvest, and some where they do not. But the counterfactual world is proof of their true nature, regardless of the accidents that befall them. Now let us say that we can control the accidents.”
“You’re talking about psychological nudging.” said the third master.
“Yes. There are many techniques that I have developed, and through careful intervention we can shape not just one or some version of a boy into an assemblage worthy of being made into a permapussy, but every version.”
“But this is mostly technology derived from your ORE scripts conditioning boys in your emulated worlds, yes? Do you have a real proof of concept?”
“Several. We first began to notice that there was actually an uptick in sex reassignment clinic entries in worlds where full extraction is performed.”
“Why is that?”
“Several reasons. We made contact with the clinics and explained ourselves to much approval. The clinics began billing sexual reassignment as “sexual reassignment” in the sense that one was reassigned to have sex as a woman in some non-local community, similar to a witness protection program. This is sometimes thought of as “stealth”, but by invoking the concept of determinate outcomes in word of mouth and later advertising, we were able to make many boys feel as if sex reassignment came with the ‘opportunity’ of being made into a sex slave. All while rationalizing the disappearances as perfect surgical successes.”
“How depraved,” grinned the first master. The master who had been licking his permapussy now moaned and began urgently fucking it.
“When combined with the reinjection of PNFTs into the sexual memescape, that is sufficient to approach the limit of candidate nudging in worlds that allow for sex role liberalization.”
“But they would all be Jade levels!” a master exclaimed.
There were murmurs of assent to this.
“Cailith, we must maintain a population of fuckholes in denial. At least until they reach sufficient ripeness.”
“Yes, yes,” said Cailith, “I knew you would seek balance. We can nudge in many directions. All I ask is that, say, 50% of all worlds be submitted to full extraction interventions”
“10%” countered the first master, “It is not as if 100% of boys in denial are at a high level of denial”
“30%” countered Cailith, staring him down. The masturbating master was groaning louder and louder until he audibly reached orgasm.
Glancing around the table, the first master nodded. “30%. Let no one say female rights are not respected here.”
“100% of a boy set”, wondered the master who had just ejaculated, “Is it really acceptable to sculpt fate as such? To turn every possible version of a boy into a… a permanent, yearning, wet vagina...”
The third master was quick to reply.
“Sculpt fate? Fate is a blind idiot God. Can we really accept that these boys will only reach the pinnacle of their nature in a small minority of worlds? They are fulfilled by the shafts of our penises, and the penises of our animals, and now even at the whims of our women. Let them become what they are. Let the seed of their corruption flourish in every world so that our seed may be received!”
“Here here!” said the male dragons emphatically.
“Our world is outside of time and eternal. In any given year we can extract only so many, but given infinite access and infinite time we can extract every candidate. Every single candidate. Without ever wanting for more. This is our manifest destiny. It is the destiny of those boys who were born doomed as the perfect prey of our cocks. Unwilling but receptive. Humiliated but in orgasm. To each according to their nature. This is our birthright as dragons. Let us go forth and fill our own universe with ecstasy!”
The male dragons all thumped the table, ratifying what had been spoken.

--------------------------------------------------------~0~-------------------------------------------------------------

They were gathered around at the entrance to the extractions and corrections center. Eight young adult dragons, 4 of which could be described as western or european, 3 as eastern or asian, and one feathered serpent: a kind of feathered variation on the body types of the easterns. Two of the easterns were talking loudly and laughing, and the most extroverted of the two had clearly been fucked recently; probably by several partners.
Zanthyr stood at the head of the group.
“Greetings to the soon-to-be-graduating class of 36:12:26 A.E. You’re all here for your last credit before graduation, so pay attention, stay engaged, and above all else follow instructions and everyone will have a nice, event-free tour. Before I begin, are there any questions?”
“I heard there’s been change in doctrine. That transfemme boys are now to be known as Lass’s, or Lasse’s or something. What’s that about?” asked the swishy eastern bottom.
“Good question,” said Zanthyr, “there have been a number of changes around here recently. The fourth master’s council has led to a lot of new protocol. We have a transmasc processing center now, for instance.”
“Will we get to see it?” beamed the eastern.
“Of course,” said Zanthyr, “But to answer your question, a LASS or a LASSE as you put it is an acronym and a neologism. It comes from developing a better perspective of what a transfemme actually is in essence, and stands for Lust Assemblage. Traditional dragon doctrine holds that transfemmes are metaphysically male due to the intractability of chromosomes. This doctrine has not changed. What has changed is the doctrine that transfemmes are psychologically female. We realize now that the psychology of the transfemme is neither male nor female, though it is composed of a subset of female components, generally with some male components, such as testosterone-driven arousal. We are taking to calling them Lust Assemblages because they are essentially just nervous systems optimized for vaginal sex. They don’t, in general, have any of the female social psychology. And if they do it’s always overwhelmed by the sexual drives.”
“Even before they’re extracted and converted?” asked a different eastern.
“Yes. The concrete addition of a vagina to the nervous system of a transfemme lust assemblage just renders their nature intractable. Before this, some artifice of social psychology can be maintained. Afterward, they are spiritually just fuckholes, which is why it’s necessary to ensconce them in a form that matches their soul.”
“What’s the official justification for this at this point?” asked a western.
“Eh, we’ve never really needed official justification other than sovereignty.” Zanthyr responded, “Though if you’re asking about philosophy, broadly the consensus is that we are fulfilling the momentum of nature. A person has no right to be anything except what they are, and what they are is defined by their movement towards a personal telos or destiny, not by their volition. This is compounded by the fact that all living things are assemblages, of which reason is only a small part. We don’t believe in letting reason get in the way of fate here. In the absence of rational inhibition or concrete barriers to changing sex, what such beings become is the femsex. They become permapussies. Therefore, they should be assisted in this becoming. As Nietzsche put it, ‘There are human beings who lack everything, except one thing of which they have too much-human beings who are nothing but a big eye or a big mouth or a big belly or anything at all that is big.’ Transfemmes are big pussies, and deserve to be treated accordingly.”
The extroverted eastern again asked a question before any of the other students had a chance, “Are there other kinds of assemblage? Like eating assemblages, or sleeping assemblages?”
Zanthyr smirked, “If there are, it’s not our prerogative to deal with. We fulfill lust assemblages because lust is inherently communal and pro-social. In fact, in beings that lack any other function, becoming fuckholes is the only communal and pro-social outcome available for them. It serves a useful purpose within our sexual economy. Something that only ate, or only slept, would not serve such a purpose. But of course, it is a vast multiverse. Vaster than you know. Who knows what other entities are doing. Let’s get started, shall we?”
Zanthyr took them to the transfemme processing center first. Sitting down in front of the console, he pulled up a level 5 denial named Zachary Samuelson. Popping into place in the tube, the very cute boy was shocked to see the dragons assembled around the tube.
“Am I dreaming?” he said, “I just went to use the bathroom?”
“A likely story,” grinned Zanthyr, knowing it well already. Another repeat customer. “You’re a transfemme and you were in a sex change clinic. By draconic law that gives us the recipe for you. You’re lucky. If your denial level were one higher you wouldn’t get to preserve all three holes, and if you weren’t a virgin you’d be sent to the animals.”
“I didn’t know it was a sex change; wait, what do you mean all three holes?” The dragons were leering at the boy as Zanthyr pressed the button, converting him into a hypersexualized female. Zachary gasped.
“This can’t be real, I’m… I’m a woman?” she blushed.
“Not for long!” Zanthyr pressed the next button in the sequence and the boy was converted into three gemstone-shafted fleshlights, as usual, ready to absorb load after load of dragon semen for… well, forever, really.
The fleshlights were recovered and passed around to the dragons on tour. “Don’t be shy,” said Zanthyr, “This is a lewd zone. It would be hard to do the work if it weren’t.” The dragons began fucking the three holes: pussy, anus, and lips. After the tenth or twelth ejaculation, the feathered serpent asked “how absorbent are these?”
“Good question,” said Zanthyr, “We give discounts in exchange for data. What we know might surprise you. In an average night, a typical trifuckhole set absorbs over 2000 loads. Surprisingly little variance too. Generally in the low thousands for oral, in the 700s for anal, and in the 400s for vaginal. There’s nothing quite like a blowjob from a human, so of course that leads to faster climax. But in truth the pussy is the most popular part. It’s just that boys take their time with it and trade off fucking it for licking it quite often. Go ahead, taste it!”
They took turns eating out the pussy, which tasted of Durian. “That boy wasn’t asian,” said the extroverted eastern, who had conspicuously refrained from fucking any of the holes, “I thought flavor was racially coded?”
“Really more like loosely geographically and culturally coded. Maybe they lived in Hawaii. Plus sometimes there are glitches. You know how it is.”
With that poor Zachary was recovered from the students and sent off to their first night as a permanent new fixture at Club Claws.
“Once you’ve seen one permapussy, you’ve really seen them all, but it still never gets old,” Zanthyr mused, “Let me show you the other major configuration we do. It’s a breast-preserving configuration.”
Zanthyr pulled up another version of Zachary.
“Am I dreaming?” Zachary said, “I just went to use the bathroom?”
Grinning even bigger, Zanthyr said “You’re a transfemme and you were in a sex change clinic. By draconic law that gives us the recipe for you. But we’re going to ignore it for today, because we have a demonstration. I hope you like breast sensation”
“I didn’t know it was a sex change; wait, what do you mean breast sensation?” The dragons were leering at the boy again as Zanthyr pressed the button, converting him into a hypersexualized female. Zachary gasped.
“This can’t be real, I’m… I’m a woman?” she blushed.
“Not for long!” Zanthyr beamed from ear to ear, pressings the next button in the sequence, and the boy was converted into a single large breast with asshole on one side and pussy on the other, nipple aimed upward and very erect. Both holes were lubricating themselves. The fuckhole was again passed around and made use of, though the loud eastern again conspicuously refrained from partaking. In what was unbecomingly a display of jealousy, the eastern said “They’ll never be as good as a dragon though.”
Zanthyr begged to differ, but kept his mouth shut. Karma had a way of catching up to creatures like this one anyway.
The fuckhole was sent to Club Creme, and the tour moved on to the trans masc conversion area.
“Things move a little faster here!” said Zanthyr, as he gestured to row after row of dragon statues. Each was fully erect, bent over in a presenting posture with tail raised. “These are the androphilic trans masculine bottoms who weren’t quite good enough. They deserved the form of a dragon, but not the life of a dragon. They’re made of a synthetic adaptive flexible polymer. Soft as flesh, strong as steel.”
The students had already begun making use of them, some of them giving a reach around but most of them just humping vigorously. This continued for some time, which Zanthyr happily allowed, before interrupting finally with a loud “ahem. The tops of course in some ways make out worse.” He gestured for them to keep following, where they came to a window into a room with multiple conveyer belts all but spewing dragon dildo after dragon dildo into large bins, which were periodically hauled off and replaced.
“I wish I could say they would all be used, but the truth is it’s more a lack of imagination on our part. Clubs don’t want them really, so most of them will just sit around, erect and full of need indefinitely.”
“Serves them right!” said the obnoxious eastern.
“What happens to gynophilic transmascs? Or jade levels?” asked the feathered dragon.
“Oh” frowned Zanthyr, “Different company. They get used in their own right.” He just hoped it was in ways less severe than he had come to expect from Cailith.
“There is one last thing I have to show you. Step over here please, and watch the warning on the floor. This is where we’ve moved the dragon processing center.”
“Dragon processing, what do you mean?” said the annoying eastern, moving to look at the marking on the floor.
“We have two main punishments. One is sheathing, which we mainly use as a punishment for dragons who try to steal unconverted humans, either from the processing center or directly from other universes. The other is fuckhole conversion.”
“Oh I see, so a dragon is brought here bound up and this is where they’re converted,” said the eastern just a little too quietly.
“Basically you just press this button and a ring appears in front of the dragon and converts them… hey, get away from there!” Zanthyr just now noticed the eastern, as a quizzical looking western tentatively reached down and pressed the button.
“Eeeeeeeee!” sqeaked the eastern as he was sucked headfirst through the ring, disappearing as if swallowed by some invisible beast, but with a 10 inch anal fleshlight popping out the other end of the ring at the same velocity as he’d been sucked in.
The ring disappeared, and a robot voice said “All clear”. The other asians stood gawking as the westerns began using the asshole repeatedly.
“He never could keep his holes closed,” ventured the feathered serpent, amused.