The Blush Factory

I groaned and blinked my eyes open as best I could. Still, I could barely see anything.

My throat felt like it had been slathered with that junk dentists use to clean teeth. And I felt like my arms were locked in place as though by a rigid, tucked bed sheet. That got me blinking even more and fussing about.

Though my ears felt like they had plugs in them, I could still hear a hiss and crunch of some great machine running in the background.

Slowly, my vision returned and I looked around. I was secured to a place on a conveyor belt and I wasn't the only one. Countless men, just like me, were on the conveyor belt as well. Most had their heads down and appeared unconscious. Some were fussing about. A few were gagged but still trying to say something.

The areas around the conveyor belt were dark and mechanized. Bits turned and whirred, blowing off steam or belching water down drains.

My wrists were behind me and felt numb due to the tension. I fussed with them, but the hold wouldn't give an inch. Above the din, I called out, "What the hell's going on?!"

The last thing I could remember was a drink at the bar with a girl who looked too cute to be real. She had a perpetual blush on her face. Her eyes were so wide and lovely. I flirted with her, sipped my martini, and then I was here.

A metallic crunch sounded out and the conveyor belt lurched ahead. I began to sense a pattern cycling around the lurch and crunch. I looked ahead and found the end of the conveyor. A massive contraption, which looked more like something for crushing cars, loomed. One of the guys restrained ahead vanished inside with a crunch.

I winced and my heart raced. The sound wasn't wet like a violent end of pulverized bones and wet gore, but I couldn't imagine anything else as a result. I leaned this way and that. I tensed against the bonds. I screamed till someone came over and began to place a gag around my mouth. The person was clothed in pink from head to toe with a full mask. Trying to bite at them didn't help much and, once the gag was in place, they receded out of sight.

Still, I fought with all my effort. So did so many other guys around me. The belt still lurched forwards and the contraption pressed against another man as he struggled to scream.

One by one, it soon became my turn. The man in front of me vanished and the machine beckoned me in next.

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The interior was dark and, for a moment, I held out hope that it had paused and would let me pass. But then the walls closed in. They pressed and crunched. A hot shooting pain flowed all over. It was like getting mashed together between something's massive molars.

Mechanical sounds issued all around me. When it seemed that the pressure would be too much to bear, I was released and dropped down a shaft into a strange new room. My bonds were gone. I could move again.

It didn't take long to realize that something was horribly wrong. Standing felt different. My body didn't move how it should've. Looking down, I finally let out a scream because the gag was gone. My voice shrieked in a high, blasting soprano.

My body had been pressed into a form-fitting suit and my shape was flowing and exaggeratedly feminine. Hips flared out as my waist dove in. My hands, with tense gloves, were small and narrow. Long, blond hair scattered down my neck and tussled at my cheeks. Despite the tension of the suit, immense breasts swelled from my chest. Looking past them, the same tension showed that not even a trace of a bulge was present at my groin.

Panting, I tore myself from my changes and glanced around the room I was in. It was small but had a decent-looking bed, a small shower, and a mirror with a basin. I approached the mirror and looked at myself.

The image that greeted me felt about what I feared, except for one harsh surprise. My cheeks below my wide, girlish eyes were blasted by a bright, reddish-pink blush. It looked cartoonish and felt like perpetual embarrassment on my face. It was probably about as bad as the girl I'd met in the bar, but it somehow felt worse on me.

Pawing at my face, I tried to get rid of it but no manner of rubbing or pressing would remove it. It was there forever.

Looking at it, fear filled me. I could imagine it might be seen as unintended arousal, terror, or worse. I yelled through the walls of the room. I cursed out whoever had done this, but was met only with silence till I began to listen. My ear to the wall, I could hear the muffled echoes of what felt like a thousand voices crying out the same protest as me.

Swallowing, I sat on the bed to merely shiver because I didn't have the will to cry. I waited with the shadows of torment all around me and wondered why.