The brides are inspected

John wasn’t sure how long he was stuck there, his chest moving slowly up and down in the bra as he breathed, **** to stare at himself in the bridal lingerie. A door opened and a multitude of male voices could be heard. He heard ice clinking in glasses and could smell cigar smoke. He realized he was on display in essentially a men’s club.

He could feel as much as hear the men shuffling around the women on display. It was difficult for him to make out any one conversation. And he couldn’t turn his head to see the crowd as they wandered around the room.

A middle aged man with salt and pepper hair stepped into view in front of John. “Well, this is a lovely new candidate,” he said with a grin, looking up and down John’s body, checking him out. He stepped back out of view again, but John could hear him, apparently talking with some other guy. “New to the system. And cheap! Well, this is worth considering!” He stepped back into John’s view, only this time, facing the mirror and with his back to John.

“Computer,” The man asked in a raised voice, “would you please show us what this inmate would look like upon release?”

“Prisoner 1LEZ4535’s predicted appearance upon conversion and release,” the computer’s voice said. John could see the mirror in front of him change to a video screen and a slide show was started, but the man’s body blocked him from seeing what was on display. He wanted to crane his neck to see, but couldn’t.

He suddenly felt a hand on his ass cheek, jiggling it. “Perky,” he heard another man say. “But she could use a bit more ass.”

“What?” Came another voice. “You want her fat?”

“What can I say?” Said the original voice, still jiggling John’s ass cheek. “I like my women curvy. She’ll be built like Kim Kardashian when she’s mine.”

“She’s got time. She’s new. It’s doable,” said the second voice as another hand started jiggling John’s other ass cheek. He wanted to die.

He felt his panties being tugged down on the back and heard a rubber glove snap on. His ass was assaulted, first by a cold dollop of lubricant, then by a finger, soon followed by another, and then another as someone’s fingers pistoned in and out of him. He involuntarily clenched as they moved. “God, she’s tight. And eager. She’s pulling my fingers in!” He heard a younger man say. “She’s sexy as hell! I bet she’s a screamer. And a great fuck!”

“She needs a landing strip,” one patron said in response as he pulled down John’s panties in the front and inspected his **** pubic hair shape. “But I wouldn’t let her out of my bed for days.”

The salt and pepper man stepped away from the monitor, returning his lusty gaze to John, smiling at him. He gave John a wink and circled behind him, finally allowing John to see what was now on the monitor. John was horrified at what he saw. It had “Prisoner 1LEZ4535’s predicted appearance upon release” emblazoned at the top of the monitor, with “Appearance predicted, not guaranteed” just below that. The images were a slide show of John with radiant skin, large breasts, killer curves, and dressed in various outfits: a slinky bridal gown, a barely there bikini, a corset and stockings, as a housewife, bound and gagged, as a sexy secretary, as a school girl, as a bimbo, as a rock star, in a burqua, etc. He was unable to look away as he stared in horror as the computer displayed what possibilities awaited him.

He finally noticed just below the other writing on the screen, “Hormonal imbalance corrected. Benign vulval growth recommended for removal just prior to release.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes at what he was seeing. More fingers probed his ass, making him leak through his chastity plate. He then felt a hand on his inner thigh. His thigh trembled involuntarily as the hand moved over his plate-covered crotch. “She’s already wet!” He heard a man say. “She’s shaking, she wants it so badly!”

“I’ll give it to her!” Said another. Some men laughed at that.

Another man stepped into his view and pulled his lips apart, checking his teeth. He leaned in and kissed John, tenderly, on the lips after he finished. “Yes, you’ll do,” he whispered into his ear. John wanted to scream.

Another man came into his view, blocking him from the monitor. He was older, with a 20 something younger man with him. Each pulled a cup of his bra down and began teasing his nipples, which immediately went erect.

“She’s going to look great with larger tits!” The younger man said.

“The important thing,” the older man said to the younger, “is that she won’t be after your money!”

John felt a stinging swat on his ass several times. “Definitely needs more jiggle,” he heard the men from before say.

A little later, a patron came up to him and pulled his bra down, again, and teased his nipples with an ice cube from his drink. He then poured a little of the bourbon from the glass down into John’s cleavage and licked it up. And John was helpless to do anything about it.

It seemed like an eternity to John. He was pinched, probed, licked, sniffed, rubbed, assaulted, and fondled during the time he was on display, all the while unable to take his gaze off of his future feminine self in the monitor. His panties were drenched. His ass was slick with lubricant. His nipples were tender and left hanging out of his bra, one strap of which had fallen off his shoulder.

Eventually, the computer declared visiting time was ending and that bids for becoming patrons would soon be accepted. The men filed out of the room and the lights all dimmed.

“Prisoners will now be returned to their cells. Your uniforms will be returned. Removal of the inhibitor requires loss of consciousness to avoid pain.” John felt a swab followed by an injection in his ass. He started to lose consciousness.

“You will be informed of your patronage status, should you be selected by one,” the computer said as John fell asleep.