Going Down in the Elevator

As the elevator descended, your panic was far from over. To your side, a man with two tool kits and a rugged appearance stood. You had paid him no attention when you entered, preoccupied by your own turmoil.

After a few moments, you felt his eyes on you, scrutinizing your form. You stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. His interest, however, was far from discreet. He continued to look at you, his attention unnerving.

A jolt of fear coursed through you as you felt him shift beside you. The man's touch was sudden and forceful, a firm slap landing on your backside. The unexpected contact made you yelp with a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

The man didn't utter a word, but his intentions were clear. You winced at the sting and quickly placed your hand on the spot where you'd been spanked, your mouth agape from the shock of it.

Staring at the mechanic with a mix of anger and disbelief, you were about to respond in kind, to defend yourself and express your disapproval. But as you opened your mouth, you hesitated.

In that brief moment, you pondered whether you should respond in your own, masculine voice or a fake, feminine one. You considered the way you should respond, weighing the potential consequences. The voice in your head wrestled with your identity, and you knew you had a choice to make.

In the end, you decided it would be more prudent to respond in your altered feminine voice. Firstly, you didn't want to further provoke the man with assertive masculine yelling. Secondly, if this encounter turned out to be with someone you'd see again, it might be wise to keep your identity hidden. And finally, considering most Feminii had feminine voices, it would be best to match your appearance.

In a feminine voice that wasn't quite perfect, you asked, "What was that for?" You hoped that your feminine demeanor would help to diffuse the situation, despite the burning irritation you felt.

The mechanic grinned and replied, his words tinged with a seemingly Scottish accent, "Ye look like a right peach, lass." His compliment only added to your confusion and discomfort in the situation.

As you turned back towards the elevator door, you were taken aback when the mechanic man suddenly grabbed your waist with his strong hands. You had a light frame, and he easily pulled you closer to him. The sensation of his hands on your waist sent a strange shiver across your skin. Amidst this unexpected maneuver and finding yourself closely face-to-face with this stranger, you couldn't help but notice the smoothness of your skin. It seemed that the experimenters had gone so far as to shave off all your body hair, leaving you with silky-smooth skin.

Before you could even ponder whether they'd done the same down in your crotch, the overwhelming stench of cigarettes invaded your senses. Suddenly, the mechanic man was looking at you with a glint of lust in his eyes, and you started to freak out. In a panicked and trembling feminine voice, you managed to stammer, "Wh-what are you doing?" Your voice wavered with both fear and confusion, and your heart raced as you anxiously awaited the man's response.

In your panicked state, you watched as the mechanic man took things to a more invasive level. His hands, one gripping your ass firmly under your skirt, made your heart race. The other hand reached for a keychain on his belt, and as he turned a switch on the elevator, you felt the machinery come to a halt. The realization of what was about to happen started to dawn on you.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of fear as you pondered the situation.

Oh no, he's going to want to fuck me because I look like a Feminii! I'm about to be taken advantage of and fucked!

The panic was rising inside you.

As the mechanic man continued to grope your ass under your skirt, he chuckled to himself, then loosened his grip but didn't release you. You realized that maybe you should have tried speaking in a more assertive, masculine tone, but it was too late for that now. You made an attempt to shift away, to use your body to escape his grasp, but it was to no avail. The mechanic man, with his overpowering cigarette stench and unkempt appearance, placed his free hand on the back of your head and forcefully pushed your head forward as he leaned in, initiating a kiss.

You winced at the sudden violation of your personal space, unsure of how to respond in this unnerving situation.

Your body felt trapped in the mechanic man's vice-like grip, and despite your futile attempts to push him away, he remained unrelenting. As he continued to kiss you, his periodic tightening of the grip on your ass caused you to wince in pain. In your struggle to avoid the discomfort, you inadvertently pressed your body closer to his each time, deepening the kiss.

The mechanic man misinterpreted your response, thinking you were becoming more engaged in the kiss, and his passion intensified. He ventured to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you felt the unwelcome intrusion. With no room to maneuver your tongue, it became entangled with his, their wetness mixing.

You couldn't escape the sensation of his scratchy beard brushing against your face, nor the overwhelming smell of cigarettes and saliva that engulfed you. All the while, his hand continued to grope and toy with your ass, keeping you firmly under his control. The situation was growing increasingly uncomfortable and invasive, and you desperately wished for a way to escape.

The sensation of kissing continued, but now the mechanic man's hand shifted from groping your ass to your chest, specifically targeting your non-existent breasts from the bra underneath your v-neck top. As he began to feel you up, your body reacted, and you felt your nipples hardening. This wasn't a sign of enjoyment; it was merely a response to the stimulation.

Suddenly, the mechanic man pulled away, leaving you gasping for air, a thin strand of saliva still connecting your lips. His rough hand ventured lower, moving in between your legs. He began to rub and explore, trying to determine your physical configuration.

With a quick squeeze and a chuckle in his thick Scottish accent, he stated, "Still got a rod on ya?" His intentions became clearer as he continued, "Well, I don't want to fuck ya, but you can still give me a windy."

Dread washed over you as the implications of his words sank in. The prospect of giving this man a blowjob was utterly repugnant, and you desperately started searching for a way to escape his grasp.

Kneeling before the mechanic man, you had no intention of carrying out his unsavory request. Instead, you used the time to quickly devise a plan to escape this dreadful situation. The man began to undo his belt and unzip his pants, but just as things seemed to be taking a dire turn, a buzz from his radio interrupted the moment.

"What's the status on elevator 4? Seems to be down," a voice crackled over the radio. The mechanic man's expression turned annoyed as he responded, "I'm inside and working on it." This gave you the crucial distraction you needed.

While the man was preoccupied, you noticed the key still inserted in the switch to restart the elevator. You realized you needed to immobilize him. Looking around, you spotted your heels on the floor, which you hadn't remembered placing there.

Swiftly, you seized one of the heels and used its pointed tip to strike the mechanic man where it would hurt the most - his groin. He let out a pained cry, giving you the opening you needed. With determination, you turned the key, restarting the elevator. As it came back to life, you pressed the button for the nearest floor, hoping to put as much distance between you and the man as possible.

The doors opened onto the nearest floor, and you wasted no time. Grabbing the other heel, you hurried out, leaving the mechanic man writhing in pain on the floor. You made your way to the next available elevator and took it down to the VIXEN residence.

As you walked down the corridor, you passed by some of the program's participants. You did your best to hide your identity, feeling a surge of shyness wash over you. Quickening your pace, you reached your room, hoping that nobody had recognized you. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, finally able to take a moment to catch your breath.

In the privacy of your bathroom, you hurriedly embarked on the process of undoing your feminine appearance. First, you splashed water on your face, and as you looked into the mirror, you were relieved to see your own face again. It was just makeup that had transformed you. Sighing in relief, you then focused on your hair. As you tugged on it, you felt nothing; it was a wig. Gently, you began to remove it, revealing your real hair underneath, though it was now messy and disheveled.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you were confronted with the sight of a crossdressing man—a face that was unmistakably male, paired with the clothing and appearance of a woman. The discrepancy made you shake your head in disbelief.

With determination, you began to undress, starting with the v-neck top that had concealed your true identity. Next came the padded bra, which you removed with some difficulty. The skirt followed, and finally, the matching panties, which had contributed to your transformation.

You stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over you, washing away any lingering traces of your temporary change. The experience had been surreal, but you were grateful that it had all been temporary, except for one thing you noticed as you toweled off—you still had no body hair, including your crotch.

After the shower, you changed into more familiar, masculine attire, stashing the pile of feminine clothing discreetly in a drawer of your dresser, determined to keep that experiment hidden away from prying eyes.