Note: This story uses background and concepts from the Teenagers From Outer Space role-playing game, Copyright and Trademarked R. Talsorian Games, Inc. The characters and story are Copyright 2002 Rodford Edmiston Smith.
"So why can't I get into my locker?" asked Freddy.
"You aren't the only one," said the repairman, as he ran a scanner over the door. "Several people are having problems."
He had light purple skin, white hair, and a face like a stretched prune. Not to mention a forked tail.
"You mean they can't get into theirs, either?"
"Some can't. Some can, but find weird things inside."
"Huh?" said Freddy, startled.
"These lockers use hyperspatial technology to increase the room available for storage," the repairman continued, as he put the scanner away and pulled out something resembling a skillet with a goiter. "When the circuits blew, some of what were isolated hyperspatial pockets suddenly weren't."
"Isolated?" asked Freddy. "Or hyperspatial pockets?"
"Yep," the repairman answered, distractedly.
He whacked the door with the weird skillet, producing a huge, surprising noise. He then checked his scanner again, and started muttering.
"Weird. This thing insists you're a girl."
"Well I am, sometimes," said Freddy. "It's... a condition I have."
"Oh. Were you a girl when the damage happened?"
"Uh, yeah," said Freddy, wincing at the memory.
"Well, that's the solution. Just change to a girl and it'll open." He began packing his bags.
"Wait a minute! It's supposed to recognize shapeshifters no matter what their form!"
"Not now, it won't," he said, lifting his bag. "That feature got completely burned out. We're on the backups, which use soma identification. Main system won't be fixed for a while. So, be a girl and it'll open."
After he left Freddy spent some time banging his head on the locker door. Then he got mad. He wedged his clipboard into the crack between door and frame and heaved. The clipboard was a novelty item, made of clear Polycarbonate and quite strong. The process made enough of a gap that Freddy could wedge the fingers of one hand in and hold the door while he dropped the clipboard and added his other hand.
Freddy heaved, and the door popped open. Only, Freddy's grip slipped, and as he stumbled back a bit the door bounced closed. Freddy screamed in anger and frustration, and grabbed the clipboard again. This time, when he pulled he as more careful, and kept his grip. However, after the door opened a bit it was suddenly yanked shut again, catching Freddy's fingers. He yelped and let go, and the door shut with a distinct click.
Growling, Freddy repeated the process. Only, this time, as the door suddenly tried to close, he yanked hard. After a few seconds of back-and-forth, he managed to get the door all the way open. He was half expecting to see some creature or device inside, but everything appeared normal. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, he switched books, then backed away and pushed the door closed.
It promptly re-opened a bit. Freddy realized he hadn't heard the latch click. He closed the door again, shoving hard once it was shut. This time it latched. Freddy gave a sigh of relief and headed for his next class.
* * *
Freddy was almost there when he spotted someone else having locker problems.
"Hello, Freddy," blatted Hrpblple, creating another eye on the part of his gelatinous body which faced Freddy's direction. "Can you help me? I can't reach my books."
Freddy stepped closer, and stared as he realized what he was seeing. The locker extended several times further in than normal, and the formless alien's stuff was all piled against the back wall, as if gravity was rotated 90 degrees in there.
"I don't see how," said Freddy. "Maybe you can find someone with a grabbit stick."
"That would work," wobbled Hrpblple.
Whether he had more to say was unknown, because there was a frightened yell from down the corridor. Freddy looked in time to see a male human student get sucked into his locker. The door slammed shut behind him.
Freddy quickly ran over and pulled on the door. Naturally, it didn't open. He repeated his clipboard trick, and - thanks to experience - got it open on the first try. Warned by what had happened to the other student, Freddy braced himself, and avoided being sucked in. Through the open locker door he could see an alien landscape, one he was looking down on from above. The russet-colored ground cover showed signs of disturbance, and there were some school books scattered around, but Freddy could not see the guy.
"Anybody got a rope?" queried Freddy.
Nobody did. Freddy sighed, braced the door open with his clipboard, and carefully climbed in, leaving his book bag laying on the floor below the locker. Freddy reoriented so he was feet-down with respect to the other world, and lowered himself carefully. Gravity seemed a bit high, besides having a different direction, but nothing he couldn't handle. He dropped the last bit - snarling as he heard the bang of a closing locker door above him - and collapsed to the ground, because his feet weren't working.
Freddy, confused, sat up and stretched his legs out. Feeling slowly returned, and in a few minutes he was able to stand with no problem. Looking around he could see a huge building of some sort in the near distance, but still not the other student. He also noticed that the color of the moss-like vegetation came from a covering of thick, heavy and somewhat clingy dust, which was now all over his clothes.
Freddy looked up and was a bit surprised to see a vaguely rectangular-shaped opening in the sky. Looking closer, he was not at all surprised to see that the locker door was closed. Muttering under his breath, Freddy began tracking the other student, who had headed towards the building. He thought about piling some rocks under the door in case he had to make a quick retreat, but decided there was no sense drawing attention to the opening.
He'd covered less than half the distance to the building when a group of the blondest, tallest, most muscular and most astoundingly buxom women Freddy had ever seen sprang up around him. After several frozen seconds the apparent leader appeared, standing dramatically on a large rock. Freddy looked up at the most hugely-endowed woman he'd ever encountered. Well, in real life. Standing on her own. The woman snarled something, and the language sounded familiar, but Freddy was having trouble making out the words. The woman's intent was obvious, however: My face is up here!
They were all Valkyrie types; tall, blond, fair-skinned, muscular, and very well endowed. They were wearing bizarre costumes, resembling Greek armor but only covering tiny portions of their bodies, like bronze bikinis with filmy, transparent skirts. They were also carrying an assortment of weapons, archaic in form and apparent function, but futuristic in execution. Despite the militaristic theme to their accoutrements, there were some interesting feminine touches. Like those sheer, pastel cloths draping downwards from their waists, and the modest amount of jewelry.
"Wow...," said Freddy, boggling at all that buxom bobbling. "Uh... Take me to your leader?"
Without saying anything, the women moved in close and started herding Freddy towards the building, the leader a short distance ahead. Since that was where he was heading, anyway, he went along quite willingly. He did wonder at the rather stiffly upright posture and odd marching stride they used.
Once inside - and the door was impressively thick, as were the walls it led through - Freddy was marched around several right-angle turns of corridors to a lift tube. This was big enough to hold all of them, though only with some crowding. Freddy was actually enjoying the intimacy as they went up perhaps a dozen levels. Then through more corridors, past a series of doors with armed guards - also all female - outside them. Finally, they stopped at one, the leader of the squad formally announced herself in that tongue Freddy still couldn't follow, and she was allowed in. They waited a few moments, and she returned, with an older - and even more buxom - woman. Unlike the guards Freddy had seen, she was wearing something very softly feminine, and a bit less revealing than the armor.
She examined Freddy up and down, her scowl fading a bit as she felt his arms. She and the squad leader spoke back and forth in low voices.
"I'm a student," said Freddy. "I came to rescue another student."
No response with English. Freddy tried Spak, Succor All, Mblbb, and even Hooshfir. That was all the languages he was even modestly fluent with. He could have tried ritual greetings in a few others, but decided not to bother. They weren't even paying attention to what he said.
The older woman finished her examination and nodded. She said a few curt words - Freddy was starting to recognize the language but still couldn't pin it down - and went back into her office. The squad marched Freddy back to the lift, the leader again ahead, and they went even further up. Then he was marched down a hall which had unguarded doors. Doors with open grills in them. Cell doors.
"Oh, great," sighed Freddy.
"Who's there?" an echoey voice demanded, in English. "This is Daryl Grives, student. Who are you?"
"The male cheerleader?! Great..."
They stopped in front of a door next to the one the voice came from. This opened as the leader stepped to it. Freddy was prodded from behind, and quickly got the message. Once he was in, the squad leader backed away, and the door closed. It stayed closed when Freddy approached, naturally.
"Great," Freddy repeated.
"Well, at least I know it's repeatable," sighed Daryl. "Getting through that dimensional gateway, I mean."
"They're all nuts!" Freddy exclaimed. "Not only do they not make any effort to talk to me, no matter what I try, they've got their dungeon in the attic!"
"Well, maybe," Daryl temporized. "How much is simply cultural differences? I mean, they are a matriarchy, full of muscular, dominant women and wimpy men. And if your enemies have aircraft, putting the prisoners in the highest part of the fort makes sense."
"You've seen some of their men?"
"Yeah. A couple. And I am starting to understand what they say. Their language is an odd variant of GalFix," said Daryl. "Which means they are descended from the ancient Geeks. If I recall correctly, that society had a number of cults, one of which promoted matriarchy as the solution to the universe's problems."
"Yeah; I've had a GalFix implant. It's starting to come back to me."
"What's odd is, as far as I can tell, we're not only the only prisoners they have, we're the first people they've seen from offworld in a good, long while."
"So who are they?"
"I think they're something from 'way back in early Geek history," said Daryl, quietly. "A cult so bizarre, and vanished so long ago that most people don't think they're real."
His voice dropped to a hushed tone.
* * *
Conversation with Daryl brought little additional information. He was more interested in either speculating on the sociology of their captors, or whining about being in this mess, than he was in planning an escape. Freddy eventually tired of trying to get anything else useful out of him and lay down to sleep. One of the few interesting things Daryl had said confirmed a guess of Freddy's, and he planned to try it out as soon as he thought night had arrived.
Neither of the students had any idea how long the local day was or what the local time had been when they got here. However, when Freddy woke not only was the place subtly quieter than before, but the lights had dimmed. According to Freddy's watch over three hours had passed. Which led him to wonder why he still had said timepiece; he hadn't even been searched. Of course, given the evidence of advanced tech they could have scanned him down to the DNA and he'd never have noticed.
Freddy concentrated for a few moments, and shifted to female version. She stood and stretched, her shirt, oddly, feeling tighter than usual. Were her boobs larger due to something on this planet, perhaps explaining what she had observed earlier? Oh, wait; the shirt was new, and deliberately a bit tight to show off Freddy's male pecs. She sighed and approached the door... which opened obligingly. With a smug grin, Freddy walked out into the corridor. She stepped through the automatically-opening door next to hers and hissed for Daryl. Who clobbered her over the head with something large, heavy and hard, dragged her inside, and ducked out as the door closed.
"Oooooh," groaned Freddy, sitting up and gently prodding her abused cranium. "Why did he do that?!"
She staggered to her feet and went to the sink. Tearing a strip from the tail of her shirt she rinsed it in cold water, folded it and gingerly held it to her head. As the pain subsided a bit, she began to think. Obviously, the brilliant upperclassman hadn't realized he was being rescued, thinking Freddy was one of the locals. By himself he'd probably be caught soon and brought back here. Freddy sighed and headed for the door.
* * *
Two hours later Freddy was completely lost. The doors opened for her, so moving around was no problem, but she couldn't read the writing and there were some Mamazons up and active whom she took pains to avoid. Following Daryl's logic about putting prisoners in the highest levels, she'd head downward whenever she could, hoping to reach something important and therefore protected by the mass overhead. Or at least find a ground level exit. Just now she was in a darkened area which appeared to be living - or perhaps just sleeping - quarters. Her head was still hurting and she had a knot the size of half a golf ball, but Freddy was used to dealing with such injuries.
She sidled up to a door, then moved to where the sensors would activate, prepared to step quickly back if the room beyond were occupied. It wasn't. And it appeared to be something she desperately needed. Freddy went inside.
The plumbing was odd, but much less odd than some of the other alien facilities she'd used. Relieved, she began exploring the room. It appeared to be a combination restroom, locker room and training room. There was no shower room as such, but a row of upright booths with glass fronts appeared to be shower stalls. Freddy stripped, opened the door to one and stepped in. The door closed and latched behind her. The booth rapidly filled with warm, soap-smelling foam, and mechanical appendages sprang out from the walls.
She turned out to be right, and also wrong. The booth did, indeed, clean her very thoroughly, not only on the outside but inside her mouth, nose, ears and, uhm, other orifices. The process wasn't just pleasant; Freddy had a multiple orgasm. Seconds later, the foam went down the drain, the appliances retracted, a blast of hot air dried her and the door unlatched with a subtle click. Freddy staggered, weak-kneed, back out into the room.
Does it do that every time?! she wondered. Maybe that's why they walk funny!
She shook her head... and realized it didn't hurt any more. A quick feel confirmed the bump was gone. So were several other minor injuries. She didn't even feel hungry any more.
"Now for something to wear," Freddy murmured.
There was no way she was putting her filthy, ill-fitting boy clothes back on. Besides, native clothing would help her escape notice. She wandered around the room, naked, trying several of the small cabinets which appeared to serve the same function as lockers, she quickly found one which wasn't locked. It was also empty, but the shelves inside confirmed her guess. Several tries later she found a locker which was not only unlocked, but contained clean clothing.
Unfortunately, the clothing inside was Mamazon battle gear. Freddy sighed, and started pulling stuff out, half-hoping it wouldn't fit. Naturally, it fit perfectly.
"Ah! Cold!" Freddy gasped, as she brought the filigreed breast cups up to her chest. "Jeez! How can they stand to wear these things?! They're cold and hard and don't have any padding..."
Figuring out the harness took a moment, but once she had that properly adjusted she had to admit that, whatever its shortcomings, the garment supported well.
"And I bet it wears like iron," snickered Freddy.
Next came the brass crotchplate and its diaphanous skirts. Again, the metal was cold and hard, but fit perfectly. Freddy added a few of the bangles and other decorations in the cabinet, then stepped over to the mirror.
"Not bad," she said, staring at her reflection.
She rotated slowly, checking to see that the clothing and jewelry were properly arranged. Then she posed, standing straight and stiff, taking on the haughty demeanor typical of the Mamazons. Freddy nodded, satisfied. She wasn't quite as buxom as even the least-endowed of the full adults she'd seen, but could probably pass for one of younger ones. As long as she wasn't challenged, and didn't try to have a conversation. Of course, this outfit was going to cause some serious nosebleeds if she ever got back to the school.
Freddy briskly turned to head back to the cleaning booth, intending to dispose of her boy clothes. And almost fell over. The brass brassier thingy might offer good vertical support, but did little to dampen lateral breast movement. And the extra mass of the metal cups actually amplified the usual side-to-side wobble of unsecured breasts.
"Gotta watch my balance," muttered Freddy, using her hands to steady her rebellious boobs. "Wonder if that's why they walk that funny way?"
Freddy transferred the important stuff from the pants pockets to the outfit's fannypacklikething and tossed the old clothes down a disposal chute. Then, back to exploring.
Freddy soon decided that it was less night shift here, than evening. There were barracks, but no-one in them. Unable to find a way further down - and having the definite feeling she was already well underground - Freddy began heading back up, exploring one level at a time. She saw several of the Mamazons from a distance, and as a test deliberately let them see her. None gave her a second glance.
Three levels up from the dorm she heard crowd noises. Following them, she found herself entering a huge indoor arena. The entrance was at the topmost level of the benches, with the arena itself a full floor below. Many were dressed in non-military clothing, though nearly half those in attendance were wearing the armor. She also saw, for the first time, sub-adults, from infants to late teens. None of the youngest were armored, but a few of the teenagers were. And everyone was female, except possibly some of the youngest. Those who were Freddy's size and apparant age did, indeed, have less up top than the adults, with many having chests smaller than Freddy's. That meant she could make her way through the crowd unnoticed.
Freddy finally reached the rail, and saw what was going on. Several groups of Mamazons appeared to be vying for males, one per group. And those males were, indeed, a sorry, scrawny lot. Yet the women seemed desperate to defeat their opponents and win a man.
Daryl was there, wearing a skimpy, slave-garment sort of thing. Freddy couldn't help but smirk, seeing this lean upperclassman being argued over by buxom women. Of course, he was larger and better built than the native men. The Mamazons weren't actually fighting, yet, but looked about ready to start.
Mamazonia needs men!, Freddy thought, smirking even more.
"And now, lot #397!" a voice announced. "An alien male spy, captured today! There are still three openings; anyone else who wishes to contend for him must enter the battle zone immediately."
Oh, well..., sighed Freddy.
She vaulted over the low railing and hurried towards him, really wishing she had a sport bra on. She saw one other woman approaching, full-grown but less endowed than even Freddy. Now that she was closer to Daryl, it seemed all those in competition for the student were on the low end of the local scale.
Looks like Daryl's less desirable than I thought, smirked Freddy.
She had just reached the circle when the announcer declared that event closed. The other woman who had been hurrying over was turned back by guards. A quick look around showed that Daryl had apparently recognized f-Freddy; he had a startled sort of "Oops!" look on his face. He must have suddenly realized who he'd clobbered earlier. Further up and further out, Freddy could see that one section of the seating was different, sectioned off and occupied by guards and a handful of extremely buxom women, older than any of those she'd seen before. And there, in the center of that area, was a middle-aged-looking woman with breasts so large Freddy wondered how she could stand.
A shift in those around her brought Freddy's attention back to the immediate situation. She aped the fighters she was among, taking a guarded stance and eyeing the others. A gong sounded, and they began.
Freddy had wrestled in competition plenty of times, but never with girls, or as a girl. The basics were pretty similar, but some of the, ah, techniques were female-specific. Freddy knew about a few, such as the Titty-Twister, from previous experience or talk with Karen or cheerleaders, but the rest... Fortunately, most of the female-specific attacks were more effective the better endowed the female was. And while Freddy had a great chest for an Earth female, compared to the average Mamazon she was only modestly endowed. No punches or kicks could be used, but open-hand strikes and shoves were fair. And Freddy was very good at that sort of thing.
Freddy and her first opponent came together with a crash, the metal pieces of their tops clanking from their vigorous contact as the larger woman tried for a front bear hug.
It the situation weren't so serious I could definitely enjoy this, mused Freddy.
Being smaller and more agile, Freddy was able to not only evade capture, but to trip her opponent and then pin her. The woman was counted out, and Freddy stood, only to be challenged immediately by another, even bigger-chested Mamazon. Fortunately, their tactics depended mainly on strength and mass. Freddy was small, but strong for her size, and also much quicker and more agile than the Mamazons.
Using these advantages, and every other one she could think of, Freddy slowly began whittling down her foes. Which was why the last two decided to double-team her.
However, that very cooperation proved to be their undoing. Realizing they couldn't change course very easily, Freddy waited as they charged at her from either side, then suddenly bolted forwards. The two pairs had a clangorous collision, both women bouncing away and dropping. Freddy turned (Cautiously!) to face them, ready to resume.
Freddy noticed the Mamazon to her left staggering to her feet. Just as the woman lunged forward Freddy spun around to confront her, momentarily forgetting what she'd learned about how to move while wearing that %^@^$%#+!! metal brassier. Her breasts swung wildly, the left one hitting the Mamazon squarely in the side of the head with its bronze cup. The Mamazon dropped, out cold, and Freddy barely manage to not fall on top of her.
"Whoa!" said Daryl, wiping at the blood trickling down from his nose. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?!"
"Yes, that's a question I'd like answered, as well."
The amplified voice boomed out across the arena, and all activity therein ceased. The speaker was the absurdly buxom woman in the good seats.
"The Armored Tit Strike is one of our most secret techniques," she continued, and, yes, she did stand, and had little trouble doing so.
"Would you believe it was an accident?" asked Freddy. Seeing the reaction to this, she sighed. "Didn't think so..."
"So, outlander, you are actually a female," said the woman. "I will have to make sure the guards who searched you receive better training. How clever, to send someone who was so poorly endowed she could masquerade as a harmless male."
"Look, we just want to go home," said Freddy.
"I am Queen Cleavanger, and you have intruded onto my realm. If you want your mate, you will have to fight for him, to prove you are worthy."
"He's not my mate," protested Freddy. "We just go to school together!"
"Freddy! Don't argue!" hissed Daryl. "Just win me and get me out of here!"
Freddy sighed, and dropped into a fighting stance. Her remaining opponent circled warily, moving slowly closer. Freddy relaxed, and let her gaze unfocus. When the woman started her attack Freddy ducked, lunged between her legs and straightened, dumping the woman over Freddy's shoulders, to land flat on her back with a huge thump.
Freddy spun around, again on guard, and careful not to overshoot in the turn. And froze, distracted by the sight of those heavy bronze discs on her prone opponent's breasts wobbling, like saucers on mounds of gelatin. Fortunately, the woman was just as thoroughly stunned by the impact. She was reluctantly counted out.
The Queen gestured and half a dozen guards bounced into the arena. Worse, a couple of the other Mamazons in the circle were recovering. Freddy scowled, and went triple. Which caused considerable consternation among the Mamazons.
"We're leaving," said the Freddys. "We didn't even know about your misandronistic little society before we came here. We don't want to know. We. Are. Leaving."
"You misunderstand," said the Queen. "You have won the right to leave, with your mate. Go in peace."
* * *
"I still don't see why you wouldn't let me ask for my clothes back," whined Daryl.
The upperclassman had tried to, but Freddy, still in triplicate, had put a hand around his mouth, picked him up and carried him off. An action which had caused the Mamazons to express amused approval. The guards had guided the three Freddys and Daryl back out the same door they'd come in, and followed along behind for a bit, then stopped and watched to make sure they left.
"Well, there's your books," said Freddy, stopping and looking up. "And there's the door. Now, how do we reach it..."
She glanced over at Daryl, to find him looking down. At her inadequately covered chest.
"Hey! Eye-to-eye, geek boy!" Freddy snapped. "You keep staring like that, you'll fall in!"
"Huh?" said Daryl. He looked up at her eyes. Then even higher. "Oh. Oh! Look out!"
Freddy looked up just in time to see a ladder descending through the hole in the sky.
* * *
"Ow..." Freddy opened her eyes. She felt surprisingly little pain. When she realized she was in the school infirmary the surprise vanished. She waved to Nurse. "Hi. How long was I out?"
"Only about twenty minutes. Most of that was from the delay in getting you here. The rescuers had to send for female staff to move you, since all the males kept getting disabled by nosebleeds. And then there were the crowds who had gathered to see what was happening, and stayed to stare at you."
"Oh," sighed Freddy.
A quick check showed she was now wearing an examination gown, but still female.
"I hope you saved those fancy duds of mine," she remarked. "They'd make a nice souvenir. Also, my stuff is in the fanny pack."
"We did save them," Nurse said, nodding. "Since your male clothes are missing I also had Miss Klupper go to the girls' locker room and get your emergency clothes. They're over there."
"So I'll be a girl until I can get home," muttered Freddy. "Oh, well; better than being a prisoner of the Mamazons. How long were we gone, anyway?"
"I told you," said Nurse, looking puzzled. "About twenty minutes."
"Wait..." Freddy thought furiously. "Okay, I think time runs faster there. 'Cause when I looked through the locker door Daryl was already gone. And my feet went to sleep in what were a few seconds to the rest of me, but was probably several minutes of reduced blood flow to them. And we were in that weird place for more than five hours, according to my watch, and my sense of time."
"Ah! That explains how you were able to find such bizarre clothes in such a short time," said Nurse, brightly. "Everyone in the school was marveling at those. People lined the halls to watch as you were carried here. I have over a hundred calls for nosebleed treatments pending."
"Wait a minute. Didn't they put a blanket over me, or something?"
"No," said Nurse, again looking puzzled. "That would have kept the EMTs from visually checking you."
Carried through school on a stretcher. Wearing that kinky outfit. Flat on her back, breasts wobbling like her opponent's had...
"Oy," groaned Freddy, lying down and pulling the sheet over her head. "Just send me back through. I'm going to join the Mamazons and become a devout lesbian."
This story is Copyright 2002 Rodford Edmiston Smith. Anyone wishing to reprint or repost it must have permission from the author, who can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org Permission is given to post this to the Transformation Stories Archive.
Freddy On The Loose 24