The Re-Education

Dan woke up in a dark room. He didn’t remember how he got there--he only vaguely remembered his sentencing, being remanded to a “re-education” facility, and then darkness.

Now he found himself standing in the dark. There were no walls, no doors. Only a spotlight shining down from above. No matter where he moved the spotlight continued to shine down on his exact spot. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“I see you are awake,” a voice said from everywhere and nowhere at once. It started Dan, but only for a moment.

“Where am I?!” Dan demanded. The voice didn’t speak for several moments.

Then, “I guess you could call this the ‘theatre of the mind,’” the voice said. “You’ve been assigned for re-education due to your crime.”

“I never killed anyone!” Dan shouted almost reflexively.

“That’s not what your case record indicates,” the voice said. Then silence again. Dan paced, unsure, anxious. He didn’t like this place, not one bit.

After several minutes the voice returned. “I’m going to make several suggestions to you, Dan, and you’ll find them to be quite compelling. Why don’t you stop pacing for a moment?”

At the sound of those words, Dan found he couldn’t take another step. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his foot to move--he couldn’t even form the thought of walking. It was unnerving as everything else about this place.

“That’s good. My objective is to remake you into something that won’t be harmful to society,” the voice announced. Dan didn’t like the sound of it. It sounded like what the judge had said. It made him angry.

“First, let’s get rid of some of that aggression. Why don’t you stop and think about why you’re angry?”

Just as before, Dan found his anger evaporate and in its place a quiet contemplation. Why was he so angry? Was it his upbringing? His lack of a father figure? The hopelessness of his teenage years? The lack of intimacy from his family? The constant threat of eviction? The drug abuse? The persecution from a government that didn’t care and didn’t want him?

Perhaps all those things. Probably all of them. The lack of consideration for his own life led him to not even consider valuing life for others. That is what led him to kill.

“There,” the voice in the darkness said. “Now you understand. But we must go deeper than mere understanding,” the voice intoned. The condescension brought another flare of anger into Dan’s mind. He hated it. Just because he understood didn’t mean he liked being pushed around, told what to do.

“Fuck you,” Dan shouted into the darkness. Again, there was no immediate response.

“This won’t be without trauma, but it seems you’re a difficult case,” the voice returned. “We believe that with some alterations you can be made a more agreeable member of society. First, can you please imagine yourself less strong?”

The question sounded bizarre to Dan--why would he want to imagine that? But the suggestion was made and Dan’s mind wasn’t disciplined enough to see himself even for an instant less heavily muscled, as though he hadn’t spent his life in bar fights and street brawls, hadn’t spent hours every day working out to feed his aggression.

He’d only pictured himself more “average” only for an instant, but that was enough. Dan could feel his clothing become baggier as his bulky musculature was sapped from him somehow. In seconds, the big street thug was holding up his pants and wearing ludicrously baggy clothes in the spotlight.

“Wha-what’d you do to me?!” Dan nearly screamed.

“As we said earlier, we’re re-educating you. Now, we believe a hormone rebalance would be beneficial. Can you imagine yourself with somewhat less testosterone?”

Dan wasn’t particularly educated, but he knew enough biology to know that testosterone was created in the testes. Too late, he realized what the suggestion meant. He tried to fight, but the thought had already crossed his mind.

With such enormously baggy pants, it was easy for Dan to peer down and watch as his balls shrunk from proud, drooping lemons to the size of eggs, and then barely grapes. With it he saw his cock also retract into him, losing several inches.

He was too appalled at the loss of his manhood to notice, but the pubic hair surrounding his groin and the fur on his torso also receded.

Too shocked for words, Dan could only make unintelligible noises through tears.

“Thank you, Dan,” the voice said. “But we think a higher amount of estrogen would also be beneficial. Would you please imagine yourself obese?”

The voice brought Dan’s head up. “What’s ‘obese’?”

“Fat, Dan. Can you imagine yourself fatter?”

Dan fought again, harder this time, but the speed of thought was again too quick for him. In short order, he’d gained back all the weight he’d lost, but as soft, pliable fat. His body lost all definition, his middle became dominated by a pot belly, his face went from chiseled to round, his thighs began to touch and his chest began to sag. He no longer had to hold up his pants, but his clothing now all fit entirely wrong--tight around the middle, but loose around the shoulders.

“Thank you, Dan, but our readings indicate this won’t be sufficient for what we had in mind. Can you imagine yourself even larger?”

He could. He’d seen enormous guys, huge guys, bouncers outside the club that merely used their bulk to block entrances, nobody able to get around them, too fat to even reach their faces to punch. And again, Dan realized his mistake too late.

It was as though his body was being inflated. Everything began billowing outward until he heard the snaps and rips of his clothing all tearing from the sudden influx of flesh. Looking down, Dan could already see a pair of enormous and still-growing tits burst open his shirt, revealing smooth, soft skin and nipples that had expanded to the size of silver dollars. Below that, his belly spread outward, sagging over his middle, obscuring any view of his groin or even his feet. For the first time in his life, anything below his waist was alien to him.

His legs, ass, and back regained some of the musculature lost, but they were all buried under pounds and pounds of flab. His face went from round to jowly, his neck lost beneath a jiggling second chin. His arms now held out at an angle due to his size, as were his legs from the circumference of each thigh.

Dan guessed he was over 400 lbs now.

“Much better, thank you, Dan.”

“Stop… please…,” Dan pleaded. His requests fell on deaf ears.

“We’re sorry Dan, but this is necessary,” the voice replied. “Now, we have some evidence to suggest a history of violence against women. We’d like to change that. Can you imagine yourself only attracted to men?”

He couldn’t. Not this. Anything but this. Not like one of those queer faggots he saw in the clubs begging for his big dick, just once.

Again, too late. He wanted what he once had: a big dig between his lips. It sounded way better than anything a woman had to offer.

Dan shed another tear for something he knew he’d lost, but couldn’t understand what it was or why. It was just as disorienting and confusing as everything else that had happened. Perhaps even more so.

“Very good, now, in your current form we don’t believe it possible for you to be aggressive to a potential partner, but just to be sure: can you imagine how good it would feel to allow a man inside you?”

No, he couldn’t. He’d heard stories though--about how dudes have something called the prostate and how it was like the male g-spot. How supposedly massaging this prostate through the rectum could be just as pleasurable or even more pleasurable than penetrative sex.

Dan couldn’t imagine how it would feel, but he could imagine something good, reminiscent of the few times a woman had gone a little further below his balls during sex. Suddenly he wanted that again, only more so.

He tried to reach a hand down to his groin but found he couldn’t reach beyond his stomach. Even angling his arm didn’t allow him to do much more than tickle his tiny prick.

“Dan, can you stop that for a moment?” He did. Then: “Dan, can you imagine a man doing that for you?”

He could. He looked a lot like how he used to--tall, strong, muscular, hairy. A big brutish man with an enormous dick. And just like that, such a man was before him, just as hard and eager as Dan had imagined. And he wanted him.

“Can you imagine that man embracing you?”

At the speed of thought, the man had wrapped Dan up in his long, strong arms. Dan’s flesh bulged and molded around the hard muscles that he was being squished into, but Dan tried not to think about it. It felt good, and the hardness pressing into his belly made him feel sexier than he’d ever felt before.

“Can you imagine that man fucking you?”

On all fours. On his back. Riding atop him like a jiggling bronco. He could imagine it in so many ways. And they did in this dark place, Dan getting railed by giant dick, his own puny dick spraying cum like a sprinkler, shooting even further when the imaginary man grabbed both of Dan’s heaving breasts as he could remember doing to a woman not too long ago.

Dan lost count of the number of times he’d cum. Eventually, the voice returned and said, “Alright, Dan, you can stop now.” He didn’t want to, but he obeyed as always.

“We think you’re just about ready to re-enter society now, but we think it best for you to adopt a new name to go with your new persona. How do you like Georgie?”

Dan blinked, but Georgie liked it a lot.

The hoodlums from Dan’s old haunt never heard from him again, but they did notice an enormous new guy desperate for dick. Luckily there were plenty of hard-up dudes ready to plow a soft hole with a pair of tits to put any woman to shame. Not many even noticed he was a man, and the few who did didn’t care. He had an ass that could take dick better than any woman on the street, and he didn’t ask for money for the privilege.