“This is something,” Saunders was saying, eyes wide as he took in the central room of the Pink Institute’s education center. All around him, bodies passed and swirled, wisps of perfumed skin filling his nostrils with perfumed lust. Aurora noted the way his eyes scanned the girls who had taken the bimbo track, especially their breasts. Saunders, it turned out, was like every man in that he was easily swayed by a deep valley of cleavage. “And all of this is run by you?”
“I have a very dedicated staff,” Aurora said, leading him to one of the classrooms. The door was closed, but one could see through the window. Behind the glass, a buxom instructor in a tight-fitting black dress and impractically tall black heels was leading the class in the proper use of one’s lips on a cock. A dozen girls and shemales were deep-throating dildoes in a variety of colors, some expressing more enthusiasm than others, but all in the throes of genuine pleasure.
“I appreciate the invitation, Aurora,” he said, barely glancing at the mistress despite her skintight black PVC pants highlighting the bulge in her crotch and the matching bustier that presented her augmented chest. “I just don’t know what I can do to help. Even if I voted your way, you have to have a consensus for the board to reverse its decision. I sympathize, I really do, but the others… well, they were born at a different time. Nothing you or I can say will change the fact that the world they grew up in is disappearing, and they’re desperately clinging to it.”
“I know, Calvin,” Aurora said, resting a hand in the crook of his arm to pull him away, with not a little reluctance, toward the back of the room where the maids were busy attending to the cleaning of the large stairwell. “What I want is something else. I need you to do something for me that the others on the board can’t.”
“What’s that?”
Around the stairs leading down to the maids’ room, Aurora found herself in front of a trio of booths, covered in pink and purple rubber. They stood a bit higher than either Calvin or Aurora, and about half again wide. They looked like the most delightfully colored phone booths in history, though lacked any windows to suggest what might be within.
“You should see these,” Aurora said, finding the handle of the closest booth and opening the door to reveal a dim interior, still obviously decorated in a deep pink. “And when you do, you’ll see what I need.”
Calvin dipped his head into the booth, wrinkling his nose at the thick smell within. It was a combination of rubber and flowery scent and something else, musky and rich.
He staggered forward, catching himself against the opposite wall of the booth as he spun in time to see the door shut.
“Hey!”
His hands scanned the wall that had just been opened, searching for some kind of release.
From the other side, Aurora listened to the muted thumps of Calvin Saunders’ hands as he searched for a way out of the rubber cell. Her hands shook as she flipped the latch to lock the door in place, acutely aware that when he stepped out of that booth, he would not be the same man who had entered it.
“What you can do,” Aurora whispered to herself, “is help me prove to myself that I can do this.”
With that, Aurora marched up the steps to the control room where she would monitor the goings on of the conditioning booth. Already inside, Nikki was watching Calvin scan the nooks and crannies of the conditioning booth.
“How is he?”
Nikki turned to Aurora and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Scared, I would say. Confused. Have you settled on a routine?”
Aurora seated herself before the computer monitor set into the wall. Beside it, a series of displays granted her a view of almost every corner of the building. There were times she would come to this room to watch the classes or the impromptu celebrations of staff and guests, delighting in what she had created, and that memory urged her hand forward as she scrolled through the list of programs to be used in the booths. Some were for maids, some for mild conditioning of guests to loosen their inhibitions before they began classes, some even to erase previous programming. The one she chose now was far more powerful. Total Female Conversion, it read.
Inside the booth, the dark gave way to swirling patterns of light, a kaleidoscope of soft pinks and deep purples that rotated around the walls. Though he couldn’t see it, a gas was filling the booth, a combination of sedatives and hallucinogenics that combined to make one extremely suggestible. Coupled with the intense programming that was to come, Aurora knew that there was no way to fight, no way to hide your mind from the effects.
Calvin was twisting and turning, feeling the first effects of the gas as the tips of his fingers and toes tingled. He could no longer recall which of the walls had been the door, and his effort to escape was distracted by the sudden appearance of an image set into one of the pink walls. It was a woman, a very attractive brunette, half-reclined on a made bed, one leg poised in the air as she slowly rolled a stocking from the tips of her toes to the middle of her thigh. Calvin’s protestations faded as he watched her do the same with the other leg. As his gaze locked to the image, he saw the woman slowly dress herself for what Calvin guessed was a night out, changing into a small black dress that fell just past the stockings secured by a garter belt and shoes that added three inches to the woman’s height. He barely noticed the words appearing behind the image, the ones that suggested softness and femininity, nor did he consciously comprehend the words that filled his head as a low drone of sound filled the booth. He didn’t notice the way his mouth parted and hung open as his senses were assaulted and filled with the idea that there was no greater aspiration than to be more and more feminine.
While Aurora and Nikki watched, his body grew slack and tired, his mind unable to stop its course, careening along images of sensuality and womanly habits and gestures. There was no way to know or suppress the urges that were planted in the now-fertile garden of his mind, a sincere belief that the only way to be fulfilled was to be feminine.
When the image of the girl was supplanted with another, this one curvier and dressed in white lingerie, Calvin was well on his way to desiring the women in the images. He could already feel his want for them, but it was draining of the normally accompanied lust. Instead, the kernel of a thought was forming, one that suggested that it was far better to be that woman than to lust after them.
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