Fictional Female Fetish Factory

F.F.F.F.

Chapter 1 by Redchopster Redchopster

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This is an interactive story about you, a guy, being transformed into a women and to perform sexual acts against your will. Just about everyone in the story has the appearance of some famous fictional chick. To help visualize the scene in your head, I've added names in brackets, to let you know who the girl is, even if in the story, you don't know their name! That way, you can look them up and see what they look like!

For example:

[Samus Aran, Metroid]

A word of warning before entering:

There are a bunch of potentially disturbing fetishes in here, such as Transformation and Vore of multiple kinds, most of them "dead ends". While I can guarantee that there's no furry, underage or stuff, there is some , blood, implied , and digestion.

This story was transfered over from Writing.com, because I got really sick of the constant interruptions from their supposed "resource limitations". I'm very new to this site, so I hope this meets your standards! Please let me know if there are any problems, and I'll do my best to resolve them.

That out of the way, please enjoy the story!

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You are a guy in about his early 20's. Nothing too specific about you. Fairly average build, clean shaven, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. You stand at the entrance of a large building labeled F.F.F.F. in large pink letters. It appeared about a year ago, replacing an office complex. Hundreds of thousands of people and cars pass by it every day, but no one truly knows what it is they do, or what their name stands for. Their webpage simply states that they are an "opportunistic and resourceful" company that make "investments for the future", and that they do business with wealthy clients. This vague description didn't help dismiss the rumors about shady practices and missing people going on at the building.

You notice the "help wanted" flyer on the ground floor window, the reason you're here now. Ever since the building was constructed, you've seen job advertisements for the place. You've been looking for a job for a while now. No other place seemed to want to hire you, for whatever reason, so you finally just applied for a position at the F.F.F.F., despite what the rumors said. After sending in your resume, it didn't take long for a response to get back to you. After a short interview over the phone with the company's hiring manager, you were told to come in next week for orientation.

You shake the thought of the rumors out of your head. After all, you're sure that they were dumb over-analyzations by conspiracy theorists. Every large company had at least a few. Plus, you'd heard from your friends that supposedly a lot of women worked at the building for whatever reason. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could get to really know one or two...

You smile, and enter the building through the glass doors.

You enter the lobby. Pristine marble walls and pillars decorate the room. Granite tiles line the floor, along with a very expensive-looking red rug. Exotic plants are placed elegantly around the room, and in the very center is a golden fountain, adorned with a statue of a woman in a labcoat, pouring water at the very top.

You also spot the reception counter over in the far left corner of the room. A brown-haired woman in a white uniform is manning it absentmindedly, filling her nails. You make your way over to her, taking in your surroundings along the way, a look of awe upon your face.

As you approach the counter, the woman takes notice of your presence and puts away her nail file. She has her hair tied back in a bun, and looks very classy in her pure-white uniform. Her nametag reads "Shelly" in golden, cursive handwriting.

"Hello, how can I help you today?" She asks. "Are you here for an appointment, or here to make one?"

"Ummm... Well, neither." You reply. "I'm here for orientation?"

"Oh, okay." She responds, politely. "If you could just follow me through here, I'll let the president know, and she'll be with you in about fifteen minutes."

"Wait, the president?"

"Mm-hm. Company policy. The president believes that training new employees herself is good for morale. She handles interviews as well, she's a busy person. She somehow finds time to relax though... I never know how..."

Shelly takes you through a pair of oak doors to the right of the reception desk, and down a hallway of equal glamour to the lobby. You follow her into a waiting room with a table and benches. A television is broadcasting the news in the back left corner of the room. A very advanced looking elevator is located at the back.

"Please have a seat." Says Shelly. "Miss Altman will be with you shortly." She bows, and exits the room.

Where will this story go next?

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