#tw forcemasc

Price knows what you are the moment you join the team.

Baggy clothes when off-duty. Eyes flicking away from mirrors. Pillows clutched in front of your chest. Sports bras in the hamper that are two sizes too small.

It’s exactly what Gaz did before his transition, before Price showed the sergeant how to become a man. Gaz clocks you, too, and starts throwing in specific word choices to see if you’ll react. Do you even know what you could become?

“You know, your hair would look great shorter,” Gaz will comment conversationally. It’s easy, when he’s the resident fashionista of the team, the one that you can go shopping with or talk about skincare to. You never bothered to wonder how he knows about it all. Or he’ll say, “Oh, that sweater would look so good on you. It’s from the men’s section? Yeah, so? Plenty of girls shop there, it’s completely normal. Clothes don’t have genders.”

But clothes very much do have genders, at least for their plans. If you wear a dress or crop top when the team goes out for drinks, Price will stop you, give you a once-over. “You’re not wearin’ that.”

If pressed, he’ll say it’s too revealing. He’ll refuse to let you off of base until you’re wearing something that can pass as androgynous or at least soft masc. Even butch would be a good start. So you sigh, and always end up changing into jeans and a hoodie, or an oversized tee, depending on the weather.

But you’re still not out of the closet. Maybe it’s because you’re yet to come to terms with it, or maybe you’re afraid that the team won’t support you. Either way, Price decides that he has to take things into his own hands.

You wake up with Gaz pressing his palm over your mouth so you won’t scream as Price cuffs your wrists to your bunk.

“Shhh, shhh,” Gaz murmurs, as you thrash to free yourself. “Relax, lad, it’s just me. It’s Gaz and the captain. Just relax. This’ll be over soon.”

Lad? Is he talking to you?

You don’t have time to question it, because suddenly there’s the loud buzzing of shears next to your ear, and you stiffen in terror. Gaz keeps you clamped silent, though you could probably still try to scream if you wanted to. But you’re too disoriented, not fully awake.

By the time you feel the shears press to your scalp, it’s too late. Your long hair falls in coils around your head, the cold air of the barracks now hitting skin that hadn’t been exposed since you were an infant. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel Price run the shears in smooth, practiced lines, careful not to nick you. When he’s done, you’re left trembling and crying with a plain buzzcut.

Gaz strokes the spiky fuzz, cooing softly at you. “Shh, it’s okay. You’ll love it once it’s grown out a little bit. Shh, shh, don’t cry. Almost done, I promise. Such a good boy.”

“‘M n-not a boy—“ you try to choke out, but a sharp slap from Price cuts you off with a gasp.

“If I ‘ear your say that shit again, I’ll wash y’ mouth out wif soap, you understand me?” the captain growls out, and you whimper, flinching, as he moves again, but instead of another slap, he’s pulling out a knife, and your heart lurches in your throat. You start to struggle again, but Gaz is holding down your legs and the cuffs and keeping your arms above your head.

Price cuts open your pajama shirt, baring your chest to him, and you can’t help the instinctive terror that he’s going to rap3 you right here and now. You trusted him, and now he’s going to defile you.

But he doesn’t make any move to rid you of your pajama shorts, leaving them untouched. Instead, he’s opening a small rectangular package of something that looks like sets of big bandaids. You’re confused, at first, and then start to jerk wildly as he palms your left breast, placing a small square of tissue paper over your nipple before carefully applying a length of the “bandaid.” Your heart thuds frantically against your ribs as he winds a longer, thinner strip over the top of the first and then rubs over it to ensure that it’s smooth and sticking properly. He repeats the process on the other side, and you suddenly realize that your chest is far flatter than it’s ever been before. In the dim light, it almost looks like you just have plain, masculine pectorals instead of bound breasts.

“Ideally, we don’t want y’ arms up over y’ head, but I knew you’d wriggle too much if I didn’t secure you,” Price says gruffly. “We can redo the TransTape later when y’ calmed down.”

“T-trans?” you repeat, your voice faint. “I’m… I’m not…”

“We won’t judge,” Gaz reassures you, still petting your head. “We’re going to help you be the man that you’ve always been on the inside. Are you okay if we take the handcuffs off now? Will you be a good boy?”

You nod meekly, and are rewarded with the click of the key in the handcuffs. Your arms drop down to your chest, crossing protectively over it. You feel naked, even with the thick tape coverings.

Gaz presses a tender kiss to your temples, distracting you as Price begins to fiddle with a tiny glass bottle and a plastic-protected syringe. Your eyes widen again, panic setting in. “What’s that? Captain?”

Price just grunts in reply. Gaz holds your arms down, keeping them pinned to your chest. “Just breathe. It’ll just be a tiny prickle. You’ll feel so much better in just a few weeks.”

Your breathing picks up as Price draws from the bottle, tapping the needle to ensure that there are no air bubbles trapped in the hollow metal. Gaz pets your arms, murmurs sweet nothings to you as Price pinches some of your soft belly fat between two fingers and jabs the needle into your skin. You give a stifled cry, muscles twitching reflexively as Price injects you with the clear liquid. It burns, and you feel sick to your stomach from the entire ordeal. You're trying not to cry again.

As soon as Price withdraws the needle, you're scrambling into Gaz's arms, burying your face against his neck. He seems like the safer option at the moment.

Gaz holds you close, feeling the tremors arcing through your body. He nudges you into his lap, settling you sideways so he can rub the injection site with two fingers, massaging away the pain. "Poor boy, I know it's scary. But we already have everything set up for you. You'll see the doc for your top surgery consultation in a week, and we'll schedule from there. We'll have to get you on a better exercise regimen, too, get you eating healthy and pushing yourself. You're going to have a lot more energy now that you've started testosterone."

Testosterone-- so that's what the shot was. You've heard of those but never dared to consider them. You were too afraid that it would end your new military career. But Gaz is talking about surgery, changes that you can't imagine. You're so overwhelmed that it feels like you might throw up.

Price is rummaging through your closet, tearing dresses, skirts, and crop tops off of the hangars and tossing them to the floor. So much for your wardrobe. He leaves you only with band tees, plain black socks, and your most ragged jeans. "We'll 'ave to get you some proper clothes soon. No boy of mine is going t' be seen runnin' around in this shit."

You find yourself nodding as Price tosses Gaz a wrinkled grey shirt that you didn't know you even owned. It might very well be left over from whoever had this room before you. Gaz helps you into the shirt with much tenderness, gathering you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom. He takes a clean cloth, wetting it under warm water, and washes the tears from your face. You’re still sniffly, wobbly.

Price pads in after the two of you. “Go on, lad. Have a look in the mirror.”

You drag your gaze up. It’s almost a jumpscare. You barely recognize yourself. Your face looks sharper, more masculine, without long hair framing your cheekbones. Your chest is taped almost completely flat. You could probably pass for a cis guy from a distance, maybe even up close, if it was just a passing glance.

Your eyes fill with tears again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Gaz kisses your forehead again, watching as you stare at your reflection.

Today you were sat neatly between her spread legs on the large plush dog bed made specifically for you and your head resting on her bare thigh. For once you are angled parallel to her desk instead of underneath, giving her more room to play with you. A sleek black leather collar sits delicately on your neck, a small round tag with "property of Farah Karim" inscribed on one side and "good boy" enscribed on the other. She's reading some papers you couldn't bother to make out while petting your hair softly. Occasionally she'll turn her attention back to you, cooing softly at your blissful face "such a good boy for me…" she'll praise softly.

After a long while of this comfortable silence she'll guide your head towards her bare cunt. You start with a gentle kiss to her clit like you were trained to do before licking a slow long stripe from hole to clit. Farah lets out a deep content sigh as you still your mouth on her, just keeping her warm until you receive instruction. She keeps petting your hair as you both sit in silence, only broken when she occasionally grinds deeper into your mouth for a moment causing you to moan deep in your throat.

You only come back into attention when she adjusts her grip on the back of your head. "Don't spill any and I'll reward you" is the only notice you get as she starts releasing her bladder into your mouth, the hot salty stream never letting up causing you to gulp hungrily. Your hands never leave your own lap like a good pup no matter how much you want to run your hands over her thighs and stomach.

In the middle of her release Alex walks in. It was extremely common to see her using you, she wasn't shy about it, but it doesn't make him any less horny when he witnesses it. She did intentionally pick a desk with no privacy board in the front, baring you to everyone who entered. He doesn't immediately acknowledge you, first telling Farah the information he came to relay. After however he oggles the both of you. He intentionally moves to the side to see you better; staring intently at the way your throat bobs as you gulp, at the way your bare hips start to rut into the dog bed with every swallow, at the way your cunt has left a growing wet patch on the fabric, at the way Farah grips your hair, his cock twitching with every wonton moan you let out into her at her taste mixed with every pleasure filled sigh she lets out with you. You've been trained to ignore anyone other than Farah unless told otherwise while in a scene, not that you would be able to focus on much else anyway. Your eyelids heavy with bliss.

You let out a pitiful whine when her stream finally slows to a stop, leaving two long and slow licks to clean her before returning to your duties warming her pussy. She leaves one last look at Alex before nodding at him to leave. He looks at her pitifully before obeying, clearly wanting desperately to stay. However he knows his place and leaves much to his dismay. His turn will come another day.

Farah turns her attention back to you after he leaves, deciding to grip your hair and pull you up into her lap. She roughly grabs your cunt, probing to see how drenched you are. She roughly slides 2 fingers in and starts to violently thrust for a moment causing you to scream abruptly and grab at her forearm as your slick gushes around her. Just as abruptly as she started she stops "Such a dirty little thing aren't you? Look at you messy you made me." She grips your jaw roughly with her clean hand to force your mouth open, shoving her slick soiled fingers deep down your throat intentionally choking you. Forcing you to clean your mess off her hand.

She withdraws he fingers still gripping your jaw. Watching as you pant, your eyes unfocused. "Grab the bag-" before she could even finish you are across the room dragging the duffel bag full of sex toys, rope, lube, really anything she could possibly need to torture you while you were out of the house to her feet. "Such an eager puppy." She roots around for a moment grabbing a tube of lube, her favorite strap harness, and one of the smallest dildos you own. You let out a pitiful whine, it's one you had early on when you were training to be able to take a more average size cock but now much too small for you.

Farah pats her thigh, gesturing for you to lay over them and present your holes for her. She gently rubs the swell of your ass and your lower back for a moment "Spread yourself for me baby boy." A slightly awkward movement to get both arms in position and spread your ass letting her see all of you. She slowly uncaps the lube before shocking you as she squirts a thick dollop right onto your bared asshole. She laughs at your head whipping around with a gasp "What? Did you think I was going to fuck your cunt? Real boys get fucked in the ass. You are a real boy aren't you?" She asked intentionally making her voice as condescending and cruel as possible as she rubs 2 fingers over your asshole. You nod vigoursly knowing you aren't supposed to talk unless prompted. "Good boy."

She slowly massages your hole relaxing it enough to start pressing one long, slim finger inside. The stretching and relaxing was a slow process. It's not the first time she's put anything up your ass but that doesn't make you any more prepared. Her free hand doesn't leave your hair, calmly petting you to keep your body lax. Slowly she adds another finger making sure to massage your tight muscle slowly and gently, consistently adding lube to make sure you stay sopping for her. She's mean not cruel.

After you take her third finger easily she starts to speed up, not paying attention to loosening anymore. She prods trying to find where your g-spot sits. She can always hit it dead on in your pussy but she has significantly less practice hitting the same spot through your ass. It's not hard to tell when she finds it, your back suddenly arching and your moans turning to near screams. "Aww does my puppy like his prostate hit? Does that feel good? Getting fucked like a real boy for once." Her taunting only making your moans pick up in volume. She violently presses on the spot before ripping her fingers out of you leaving you shuddering and twitching like you were electrocuted.

"Get up." She says bluntly, articulated with a harsh slap to your ass. You quickly stand in front of her, your arms clasped behind your back like a good boy. She gently grabs your hips, admiring you for a moment before kissing at your happy trail. She trails one hand down rubbing at your sensitive T cock for a moment "look at you growing a gorgeous cock." she accentuates with a soft kiss to the tip "Soon you might be big enough to fuck me like a real man." She laughs meanly as you try to rut into her lips "Probably not, you like a cock in your holes too much. Such a needy slut."

She slowly stands, trailing kisses up your chest to your neck as she does. She slowly moves behind you, her lips never leaving your skin until she pushes you to bend over her desk. She gives your ass a rough slap before putting her harness on and sliding the small dildo through the O ring keeping it secure to her. You hear the cap pop again and she coats the dildo thoroughly before setting the bottle down on the desk and wiping the excess lube onto your already filthy ass.

The only warning you get is a short rub of the head of the dildo to your hole before she pushes in slowly. The stretch causing your jaw to drop unconsciously. The dildo was thin and short but filled you like it was a monster. She started moving slow and gentle making sure you could get acclimated to the stretch as to not tear you.

A quick nod let her know you were ok and she started to pick up speed and aggression. It wasn't long before she was violently thrusting into you. Your screams, the squelch of lube, and the wet slap of your bodies bleeding out of the room and into the hall letting anyone who passed by know exactly what was happening.

Farah gripped your collar and yanked your head back, pulling you flush with her chest and baring your neck to her. Her free hand reaches around to rub at your cock making your screams turn desperate. Farah feels the resistance as you clench, your legs starting to stiffen as you feel the heat of an oncoming orgasm start to settle in your stomach.

"Aww does puppy wanna cum? Speak slut." With the grant of permission and her hand moving from you collar to your hair opening your throat enough to breathe deeply "please please please let me cum! I've been a good boy please!" Your desperate begs broken up by equally desperate screams and sobs. She purposefully doesn't respond for a moment, letting you wonder if she will permit you at all. She knows you can't hold back an orgasm, especially not when she's hitting your g-spot head on. She does finally decide to let up, biting your neck right above your collar harshly before saying just loud enough "Then be a good boy for me and cum." It didn't take much after that for you to cum with a silent scream, drenching both yours and Farah's thighs with your slick. Farah fucks you through it giving you one of the hardest orgasms you've had in a while, only slowing to a stop when you start to shake and whimper from overstimulation. As you slowly catch your breath she pulls out of you before sliding her hand down under the harness and rubs her clit roughly. She was already on edge from pleasuring you, from the way you looked to the way you sounded it all wound her up to an explosive orgasm.