Curves inc vs tg corp crossdressing fiction


For the longest time, the professional geneticists and surgeons that had poured their blood, sweat
and tears into building Curves Inc. into the powerhouse in gender change technology had tried
their best to tolerate TG Corp. They engaged in charity donations, sought out those who best
needed their services, and ensured that the level of care a customer could expect was tip top and
top notch. As for TG Corp., there was little love lost between them, an all male company in the
business of making women.. . Something had to be done about the board of directors.

For years they had chosen unwilling targets, broken apart marriages, and birthed a whole genera-
tion of sex starved, nymphomatic, young women. Something had to be done. The head of Curves
Inc. put their best men and women to the task of assembling a means of giving them a taste of
their own medicine. It didn’t take long before they turned to a less than surgical response. A babe
bomb had been theorised, a mechanical contraption filled with so much genetic transition material
that everyone within the blast radius would be transformed into a sexy woman, but the Curves sci-
entists had outdone themselves once more.

A babe bomb could, potentially, damage property and buildings, which was not the Curves way.
So the most elegant of solutions was devised. Instead of bottling that much transformation power
into a weapon, they could put it into a person. A person filled to the brim with the stuff that made
men tremble and turn into women. A volunteer was needed, but once he was laden with the stuff,
transformed of course into a woman himself, it was go time. The plan went off without a hitch.
The woman made her way to the TG Corp buildings in downtown Manhattan, and ensured she
was as far inside as possible, not wanting to cause any disturbance outside. Curves spies made
sure the front and back doors were locked before she entered the elevator. She settled on the
twentieth floor, and then set about her work. The transformation exchange was simple, anyone
who so much as breathed in a cell from her body would transform within a matter of seconds into
a sexy woman, and then the virus would be passed on from there. With a half life of two minutes,
it was hard to expect that there would be much of a reach outside the building. Within moments of
arriving at her target, the floor was agog with moaning women, and men struggling to escape, or
beat back the transformation that would soon consume them.


She sat there, casually tidying her nails, as the moans of horror and pleasure slowly made their
way upward and downward, until they fell into a satisfied or stunned silence. By the third hour,
even those who had been hiding had been infected, bursting through their clothes with hips and
boobs growing, and then falling into the mad pile of burgeoning sexuality.