The King of the Club

Sexy King and Right-hand Queen!
The TG is at the end.
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Transported to Fantasy #2

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Classes and Monsters: Harpies

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The Bimbofying Effect

A limousine pulled up outside of a dark and desolate alley in the vibrant night life of the city. Opening the door was a dark silhouette which blended into the crowd, such that, if someone looked from the top of a block here, no matter how good he could be at recognising faces, he could only see a shadow. You could not know who he was, even when you faced him, and as far as you could describe, the description was either contradictory or non-existent.

At a window overlooking the street I observed the movement of the silhouette through the camera of a fly-sized drone, and no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t pin down his or her face. Such silhouette was witnessed to be associated with a few disappearances in which he (let me stick with that) pulled someone into the alley or any covered space, and the victims disappeared, only for the limousine to be driven away later without the silhouette returning. There was no pattern of the victims, except that they were all male. They ranged from small children to seniors, and were of all races and social status. In fact, the more cases we had, the more the pattern resembled the general demographic make-up of America- so, almost no pattern at all. Even picking people at random would show some sharp patterns after many attempts.

One thing was sure: the alley was optimal for the next case and about 70% of the cases occurred this side of the city.

Now that the silhouette was out, looking for his next victim. As I focused back onto the screen, the silhouette has already pulled another white male of about 35 years of age, wearing a pair of broad glasses and of the “geek” type. With inhuman strength he dragged the new victim in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement, all while attracting little attention. But no matter how hard he tried, they did bump into some people and then they didn’t apologise, hurrying again.

It was by those bumps the crowd realised that another kidnapping was happening and dispersed quickly. Some guys of bravado moved to follow the two, but upon arriving to the alley they vaporised into thin air, and there was no one inside. Some of the trackers entered the alley, and after some time they left in frustration. I could guess that they could found nothing but garbage and graffiti, and there was no sign of them even leaving- something I confirmed by flying the drone inside and observed the alley.

Without any clue of their whereabouts it was logical to park my drone on one of the mirrors of the limousine, so that I could look inside when the car was driven away. It was always the case for the limousine to be driven away as I said, but we had no clue of the driver. There was no one on the seats as far as I could see, which was more confusing: the limousine was driven away usually without anyone observed entering, in witness’ accounts, camera footage and photos. Some waiting would help.

It really helped when a young woman manifested on the back seat in a sudden. The woman, not older than 30, had short, curly blue hair- very unusual unless for dyeing, while her hair looked natural- and wore only a simple white dress, seemed to be put on in a hurry. The most visible part of her was her breasts, unnaturally big, seemingly enlarged by surgery or other means.

We was not able to be sure of the woman’s identity, since there was no social security registration with an identical face, nor from any database we had. By manifesting, I could have meant from a comic, or from someone’s imagination.

As for the disappeared geek, there was no sign of him, as if he had faded away from this world, while the woman appeared to replace him in this world. This was wild speculation, however, and as far as he was lost, this case couldn’t be closed.

As soon as the woman appeared the limousine started moving, and literally no one was driving: the driver’s seat was unoccupied, but the steering wheel was being controlled by some invisible hand. The limousine wasn’t self-driving, either.

At last, the limousine got moving. Its destination must had some clues for our investigation, or even for breaking the case.

You could know the limousine’s moving by judging the scenery around. When the scenery stopped moving in the camera, the limousine was actually parked. If it was not the case the sun would not rise tomorrow. So after some time, I knew when the limousine parked in a sudden, they had arrived at their destination.

The door was jerked open without anyone visible outside, and the woman was pulled out forcefully. I flew the drone up to keep track of her, and that revealed a crucial location: she entered a club with a large Neon sign named “Bimbo”. It had to be the place, I said to myself. From the web, “bimbo” describes a woman attractive but stupid, and the woman on the car at least matched the attractive one. Whatever was done inside should be key to the investigation.

I reported all of my observations to my superordinates, and though confused as ever, they agreed to send agents to shut down the club and investigate. No matter what really happened, normal or abnormal, it will clear up any questions everyone have, and for me, I finally could take a break from this complication of the mystery.

---

I'm writing this story from a news I've seen a few weeks ago about the club "Bimbo". the news coverage went as far as until the cops and FBI locked the club up for investigation, and  then there's nothing else that the news has covered except for the cops' announcement.

They claimed that there was abduction of young girls and illegal activities going on inside and the club has been closed, but that statement was too brief to answer my questions. Somehow, the kidnapping of males has never quite been explained, and on the Web there was already some doubts of a possible cover-up. Here is what some forum investigators have unraveled:

-The kidnapper (I think he is the silhouette) has taken the males and the girls into the club
-The males are for services and the girls are for sex
-The cops and FBI denied the relevance of male disappearances to the club since they have some connections with the club

This will be some kind of serious scandal, but I have instead come up with my own theories which I had put down into prose. I haven't give out my conclusions but that would be easy for you to guess. No one really knows what exactly happened inside, not the cops, not the forum members, not me. But what happened doesn't matter, since everyone twists the truth into their perceptions and interpretations.

I know all of you want to go on reading, but I've hit my block and put the best of my knowledge in it, so it's up to you to imagine what really happened.

Disappearances and a New Idol Group

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TG Neighborhood

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TG Milk

After writing the latest update for the site I work for, slack.com, I grabbed some time to shop online for some of the grocery not available nearby. That included milk delivered directly from the farm to my children's table every morning. Those should be better than what you could buy in shops, since those CEOs would make less and the farmers more. I scrolled down the list of local dairy farms and among them was some interesting discovery. "TG Milk" "Transform your male self into female and enlarge your breasts! Sold directly from the farm, at an affordable price!" Gender-swapping? Nothing can do this without a ton of surgery and hormones. So do enlarging your breasts. This might be a prank, but I looked at the reviews below and there were much to be seen, all of them praises and proofs of its actuality. Anyway, whether this really existed or not, my investigation for slack.com would be eye-catching.
I took a day-off to investigate. I drove to where the farm selling that milk was located 100 miles away from my house. The farmhouse was not unlike any other one, and it really suited the image of a farm to us city folks: rustic but decently maintained. Everything appeared to be normal, with some cows out in the pasture and some in the barn. There was only one thing that seemed off: the farm was populated only by a short-haired brunette in her mid-20s, who was sweeping the barn. The part of her which immediately caught my attention was the largest bust I’ve ever seen: about 41”, bigger than the biggest of all celebrities and even more than humanly and naturally possible. Maybe getting fresh milk every day really gives you an advantage, not just in height.
If I didn’t shouted out first, she would barely noticed me. “Hello?”
She looked up and replied hastily, "What's the matter and who’re you?"
"I'm investigating this farm for a news site, and I'm interested at the milk your cows produce."
"More of you media guys. Since I've found this pasture's special properties I've been getting lots of attention. Come in," so it seemed that the properties were due to the land; if you move the cows away it will soon produce normal milk. This fueled my interest and might prove the authenticity, and I passed through the gate to meet her. Now she left her broom behind and was tending the cows and extracting some milk as professional as she could. Not that girls can’t do that, but her age seemed too young to have such expertise. Besides, by no means could a farm be owned all by herself, without it being a part of inheritance passed to her after her parents’ early death. I might be prejudiced in these however, but I still thought I should inquire.
"You are so professional at such a young age. Did your parents train you since your childhood? Or did your parents left you at an early age..." things just couldn't fit together as a coherent account of her past, so there must be some missing piece I couldn't have imagined. Or what? But then she countered, "Don't trust my appearance, I've been raising cows for over 40 years." 40 years? That was probably longer than her life. How could she appeared to be in her 20s? Or maybe she started her career since she was a baby, I couldn’t have guessed it. How could she have achieved this impressive feat?
"I don’t know you appeared younger than you are." “Yeah, I’m actually older than I appear, and this was all due to the milk produced here...” It was a year before I visited the farm, and the land where it stood had always been used for sheep since the first settlers and even among Indians, until that point. No one knew why, except from some tales passed down from the Indians to ranchers and pastors: Some tribe new to the area once tried to raise cattle here and consume their meat, and soon they found out all of their men have become women completely. They dispersed and nearby tribes came to know this pasture as a sacred site of their own goddess of fertility, that if one ate or drank what was produced on the site, he would become fertile in the form of a woman. The native tribes did warn the settlers and these lore stuck as some local legend. Even though the advent of modern biology proved that biological sex was determined by unalterable DNA and not magic, local farmers still believed in the tales and only raised sheep for wool there.
Not Matt, who moved in with his wife from the nearby state after buying some land on the alleged sacred site. He might have listened to a few tales of supernatural, but being rational he shook them off as mere fantasy and imagination. So was this tale of gender-swapping, impossible even for modern technology. He planned to move his dairy farm there and informed his neighbors of his decision, and their only responses were a precautious “No”. Determined to ignore a superstitious folk, he ignored them and went on with the venture.
He spent money on some farm buildings, moved some Frisian milk cows and equipment into the farm, and raised them for sometime. Before selling any of the milk produced here he was to taste it to judge the quality of the land. One morning he poured a cup of fresh milk and drank it himself. It was the smoothest milk he had ever drunk, as smooth as silk if you have eaten them, and replete with the strongest of aroma. It reminded him of breast milk, or the image of a mother feeding her babies, but he simply could be remembering those baseless tales. Like a baby to breast milk he carved for more and extracted liters for himself.
Soon his body was warmed all over, and he took it as a sign of cold. But then his body started to nudge and he ran to the mirror to check himself. To his horror and denial, he was changing: first his skin was progressively lightened and untanned, with a few scars on his arms and legs disappearing. Then his frame started to shrink, gradually from 6’ to a mere 5’7”, a bit too short for a male. Then his body hairs started to fall off, except for his top and intimate parts and elsewhere becoming shorter and less dense. His shoulders was tightened and the width went to his hips, while his butt was gaining weight. All his muscles was melting into fat and a moderate pair of bust appeared above a flattened and narrower abs. This effect spread to his limbs, shortened, thinned and more delicate than yesterday. He looked into his face, not spared by this wave of feminization: his nose was less protruding and the eyes was becoming bigger, his face shifted to become that of a young woman, and his skull was now more round and smaller. His hair grew a bit, but it failed to reach his shoulders.
“Damn!” He shouted in a voice several pitches higher than his usual one. In his throat his Adam’s apple ceased to exist. “No more?” In a sudden his groin was hit by an unseen force and she fell to the ground by the intense pain. She checked her pants, and found out that her manhood and balls was no longer there. Instead there was only the organ of fertility. With the pain she screamed and lay on the floor. The screech was loud enough to woke the wife up, who could not find in the living room her weathered husband in his 50s, but only a young woman in her 20s.
Matt, or Matty as she would later call herself, tried to explain all the odd effects of the milk, but at most she could only get lukewarm acceptance by the wife. The wife, then considering herself widowed, moved away; and this left Matty with her farm, which now had no value except after shifting to sheep- something she was not familiar with. To salvage the farm she did some research on gender-swapping, and concluded that, judging from the existence of a LGBT community, she could sell some of the milk over the web to them. There were and still are a lot of buyers for this milk, who had also thought gender-swapping by drinking a milk until they tried out her farm’s milk and saw the success of the milk on their bodies. “This is how TG milk come into being. I still don’t know how something as simple as a milk produced in a particular site can change one’s gender, but at least I can sell my milk and sustain myself. Besides, I don’t mind about being a girl, since I can still work here and still strong enough to move thing around. There’s also a benefit, that I can live for a few decade more at better health.”
“So the legend is true after all.” By the way, on the page selling the milk, it was also mentioned that the milk can enlarge someone’s breasts; I looked at Matty’s breasts again, and become convinced that she had been drinking the milk after the incident. What I guessed was right: after a month of drinking the milk every day, her breasts went from 32” to the size I saw that day. In fact she actually seemed to had overdone it, since 41” was actually slightly impractical for the kind of farm work Matty did daily. But then anyone have their choices.
I thanked her for the interview and exited the farm. Driving back to my home, I recounted of my encounter with her, and doubted whether nature could do this to an otherwise normal pasture, or if I was in a deep dream. Of course, I was dreaming it up all the way, but so were those who had gained new lives after drinking this TG milk, and those who continue to pass these tale of the sacred site down to the next generation.