As the field of bio-engineering progressed, so did the MMA scene. Even if someone snapped his bones or even severed his spines in the ring, he’d be back fresh the very next day after getting some shots from docs. I guess that took some excitement out from the fighting scene. People wanted something more on the line when two people are fighting in the ring. So, that’s when the Masculinity Fight was introduced.
The loser of the fight would be stripped of manhood and his masculinity would be transferred to the winner. The wonders of bio-engineering made that possible. There was a metallic syringe, the size of a fountain pen, that the referee would jab the needle into neck of the loser and pull the plunger. When red liquid filled the barrel of the syringe, the loser’s muscular frame shifted into a slender, feminine contour and the loser’s genitalia morphed into a female one. Then, accompanied with some moaning, the loser would grow into her new tits and hips and the transformation would be complete. I saw that happen right before me twenty five times, which made me the undefeated champion of my weight class.
Some people did it for the money. Some people did it for the glory. But I did it for the stealing masculinity. When the referee brought me the filled syringe and injected the sucked out masculinity into my system, I could feel my muscle get bulkier and harder. Even my cock got bigger and thicker. I liked that feeling.
But on my 26th match, I faced an old rival, Tommy. He hated being called Tommy, and always made sure people referred to him as Thomas. That’s why I called him Tommy. Anyhow, I robbed of his manhood two years ago in the ring, but he returned as a man again. I imagined he probably paid an awful lot for that or found a willing transgender. Well, it’s going to be an easy fight, I thought. But, I was mistaken.
Tommy had been honing his blade of vengeance for a long time, I figured. My punches and kicks flew in the air while his fist crushed my jaw. He was damn fast. But with all the masculinity I took away from 25 other men, I didn’t go down easy. Even after all the punches I took, I didn’t even knocked out once. But neither did he. After five rounds of the match, the fight was over.
Even before the judges called it, I knew the result. I fell tired to the chair and watched Tommy cracking an ear-to-ear grin. He knew too. Ding ding ding. The bell tolled. It was an unanimous victory for Tommy. The crowd cried in uproar and shouted Thomas’s name several times, the way he wanted it. The referee came to me and jabbed the needle onto my neck. It was beginning.
All the masculinity I accumulated was leaving my body. I felt weak on my knees and uncontrollably shivered. The crowd was hollering. They’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. The arena was filled with the flashlights to record the every second of my humiliating transformation. My height began to decrease, my bones began to soften and remodeled, and my muscles spread out. My body hair was vanishing and skin was getting silky smooth. My inverted triangular body shape was changed into hourglass shape as my hips spread and tits swelled. I felt a burning sensation on my penis and before I knew it, my symbol of manhood was a drooling womanhood. And there it was, my achievement concentrated into the barrel of the syringe.
Tommy gladly took the masculinity syringe and grew even manlier than before. Maybe it was the new woman body playing tricks on me, but as I saw his growing pecs and shoulders, my heart began to race that I had to hold down my breath. My still manly mind resisted, but I realized my body was wanting a man. Wanting Tommy. I covered my feminine groin in an vain attempt to cover my wet vagina.
Now, as the tradition went, Tommy was given two choices of his championship trophy. One would be a solid golden trophy, which was the one I claimed when I was first declared the champion. Other would be a trophy wife, who would be the defeated champion. Me. The crowd was chanting “Her! Her! Her!” They wanted to see the old champion crumble to the lowest point. The castor brought a mic to Tommy, and what do you know, he chose me instead of the gold trophy. The crowds screamed in joy.
The president of the association brought in a gold ring instead of the golden trophy from my locker room. He handed Tommy the ring, and oh, I knew what it was. If I were to put that ring on, I would be his submissive, obedient, horny wife for the rest of my life. Tommy approached to me and forcefully placed the ring on my finger.
As soon as my fingers entered the ring, my brain was struck with singular command: I must obey the man before me. And the man asked me to marry me. My remaining consciousness was fully aware that the ring’s brainwashing was in the works, but I couldn’t resist it. My mind was quick to jump the ship. It whispered: if it feels this good to be brainwashed, what’s so bad about it? And it sounded right. I answered yes, I do. I jumped onto him and gave him a kiss of my life.
In return, his gigantic phallus penetrated my new vagina. Some of that gigantic size must have been mine. As he thrust me inward, I felt like my lower body was splitting in half, but it was not painful. It was a new type of pleasure that I never felt before as a man. Then, I remembered: If genderbent man loses his virginity as woman, he can never return to man due to some hormonal actions during the intercourse. But I didn’t care, because I found the love of my life. Of course, a corner of my mind was telling me that it’s all a trick, a delusion, but I couldn’t help it. Being Tommy’s trophy wife was too good to be true to me now.