Chapter Text
Isabela, in her vinyl outfit and high heels, came to the Kink-Korner this night knowing exactly what she was looking for. Young, pliant-enough "men" who were fascist, incel assholes on the outside, but then came to places like this to be a pretty girl for an hour or two.
She was scouting out people for the Castelinho's next intake, to make a long story short. And she knew, from years of sponsorship, to coax a lot of information from these soon-to-be weeded dicks, or at least enough for Fiadh, the Irish girl who immigrated after graduating from the British program, to stalk them properly for their future files.
The night was one all-too common in the proto-cyberpunk hellscape known as Metropolitan São Paulo; the ever-present smell of piss from both drunkards who misuse their wieners and people forced to live on the streets, the constant tension of possibly having a gun stuck in your face for your smartphone and incessant cold presence of the sounds of blaring vehicles. Once she stepped to the tiny door the discreet bar was at, she was promptly let in by the patron who validated her ticket whilst distracted by smoking and conversing with someone else.
Entering and being immediately bombarded with the smell of citrus incense, probably to avoid the many mosquitoes this time of year, Isabella slowly but surely made herself to the main room, where people met, talked and had preliminary hookups before going to the sex rooms, or whatever they're called, to do the deed.
Spotting rotting eggs isn't at all a challenge to who know the right signs - an off-handed remark about the advantages or easiness of being a girl, long, unkempt hair, a suspiciously clean face, that insecure glance, a certain pseudoscientific acronym coming into conversation, or, most obviously, that certain kink - forced feminization.
Isabela had burned into her brain a whole dictionary of online terms used these days by the types she was cataloguing. Especially from that toxic American forum she used to browse gun stuff on back in the day, before she, well, was Isa.
Whilst silently scanning the place with a cold can of Coke in her hand, she had yet to see any good candidates. She dissociated into a method of focusing entirely which usually blocked out any senses but her eyes, locking onto what she needed to. It made her quite a good shot in Haiti.
Her focus, however, was soon broken entirely by the one sound that triggered the specific emotion that wrecked any level of concentration she could conjure up in any given situation: crying.
Isa craned her head abruptly to a blonde girl in a almost-sheer light blue corset and pastel blue skirt with glitter sobbing on a corner poof with a confused domme beside her not knowing to do in the situation.
Crossing the room in a few wide paces, thanks to her height, the scouting sponsor felt the anger of protectiveness and thought of one thing: the next candidate for the cells was going to be the bastard who hurt this poor maiden, be him egg or not.
Wouldn't be the first cissexist piece of shit in Brazil's history to get spayed for naughtiness.
Touching the overwhelmed domme, Isa asks her
"Hey, can I butt in? She looks like she needs help."
"Please." Responds the domme, giving them both space.
Isabela crouches to the sitting girl's height, and inquires:
"Honey, who hurt you? You're clearly not ok. Give me a name and face, and I'll make him regret it."
The asthmatic girl shuffles in her purse and wipes her tears and blows her nose with a roll of toilet paper she brought with her, then takes a big breath to stabilize herself.
"Uh-uhm hi. Nobody in particular hurt me. Well, a couple of people did, but it's a long story. I'm more... tired, really. I thought that if I, uhm, came here and found something specific I was looking for, I'd feel a bit better. Real life is always complicated" she states, laughing bitterly while speaking.
Isa's chest ached. Sure, this wasn't the objective, but the night was long enough to look for intake candidates later. Right now, she'd help this girl to the best of her ability. If anything, the program gave her a sense of camaraderie that the Army never did.
She flatly says: "Come, I'm gonna help you, be you willing or not.". Isa stand up and offers a hand, which, when taken, is used to pull the distressed lady up.
Isabela guides her to an open, simple, diner across the street, and orders a hefty cheeseburger, fries with cheddar and a can of guaraná for the girl. Crying spends calories like little else.
The distressed girl, quietly obedient, trembling, until the food came along, said "Thank you" and "Sorry" four or so times whilst scarfing down the food and drink, clearly hungry and parched.
Isabela couldn't help but take in the woman's appearance under the light of the diner; blonde curls cute into bangs, cute, round face with large glasses and puffy lips which gave her an innocent look, and, quite frankly, gargantuan breasts over a nicely defined, chubby waist which rounded out to large hips, giving her an hourglass figure. The girl looked like she stepped out of a vintage magazine, or one of those nose paintings from really old bomber planes.
"So. What's your name, darling?" Isa says in the most therapeutic voice she could muster at the moment.
"I, uh-uhm, Inês, Inês Scorza Gargiulio, ma'am. Exceedingly Italian name, I know. I do have a German name somewhere in the family though. Just one nation away from forming the full Axis. No offense, by the way." timidly said the now less shaken lady, laughing nervously after joking about Isa being a Nikkei, in an attempt to break the ice.
Isa laughed. "No offense taken. And no need to call me ma'am. I'm just a worried bystander, cutie. Call me Isa." Isabela responded, extending a hand with a smile on her face.
Inês turned pink, offering hers and greeting Isabela.
"First question; are you feeling better? I'd like to talk a bit, if possible, ask some questions." said the older woman to Inês, who nodded.
"Perfect." She calmly said, smiling. "What's a sweet thing like you doing at a place like that? I've known wolves in lamb's skins, but you don't seem the type."
The already pink face of Inês darken to crimson as she stutters.
"I eh-uh-uhm-ca-uh... forcefem. I came here for forcefem."
Isabela just blinks for a moment and says "Oh." This was definitely not how she was planning her night to go.
"So, let me get this right, you...wanted to do force-feminization role-play and, allegedly, make a boy into a girl? Don't worry, I won't kinkshame." Isa struggles to hide a confused smirk.
Isa reluctantly spouts, trembling again, only for her hand to be held by Isa in an attempt to ground her.
"I actually, uhm, wanted the forcefem to be done on me...?"
Isa stared at a Inês, who was recoiled as if she'd be scolded for her tastes, for a few seconds and just...blinked.
The information was hard to parse with the person standing in front of her. This cis woman? What exactly would be there to feminize? As someone of the trade herself, Isabela didn't understand the need the girl feels in expressing that desire.
"But you're cis? Excuse my line of questioning, girlie, I am incredibly confused right now."
Inês went from a face of fear to surprise, and then just giggled.
"Yeah. The other woman was confused too. I'm, uhm, trans. Just been a long time on this yellow-bricked road. Six years, implants, name change, the works. Just no laser or SRS yet, one's too expensive, and the other needs support and, to put it short, I don't have team cheering for me back at home." Inês gave Isa a cheeky smile.
Isa already got some info: trans woman, resilient, although with a clearly unstable body image, lack of financial support, possibly shitty or absent family. Right. She also detected an accent, now that the girl spoke clearly. Maybe from the countryside?
Inês continued.
"Just thought that if I came to someplace like this and had a lady force me into the role of a lady, I'd actually believe it for once. It's just, I'm not exactly the charismatic type, and I fucked up at doing the rizz, as the younglings call it." Tears starting streaming down her face again. "Been failing at life, honestly, and I've had everyone just fuckin' go Danny Phantom on me like I crawled out of Chernobyl. And at home, well, I just prefer not to talk about it. I used to be a really, really bad person and they liked that, and now I'm not anymore, and I became their Spiderman villain. The lack of a job to just, leave has been getting in the way too, so yeah. That's why I came here to humiliate myself into feeling like the girl I desperately try to be but fuck up at being."
Isa carefully listened, making a mental file already on the girl.
She said, putting on her sponsor voice, reaching out and brushing tears from Inês' cheeks.
"Look, first of all, you are a woman, like it or not. I can see her right here in front of me. A pretty hot one at that. Gimme your phone. I'm gonna put in my WhatsApp, contact me once you get home. You need rest, and I'm getting you an Uber. This is non-negotiable. Say you understand and agree."
Inês looks scared but flushed, and responds:
"I understand and agree, uhm, ma'am."
Isa grins and says, after adding herself as a contact on Inês' phone. "Good girl. Now let me get you a ride. Just sit and wait quietly. I'll go pay the bill."
After calling the Uber and paying the bill, Isa grabs a popsicle for the lady. When Inês enters the Uber, she kisses her on the cheek goodbye and tells her to text her if she got home ok.
At the sponsor safehouse in the city, twenty minutes out thanks to the relatively low traffic at that hour, Isa opens the affectionately called "Sponsorgram", a sort of pirated version of telegram that is better encrypted and used only for in-house communications.
BelaBella: Found someone interesting tonight.
materialgirl: Oh? 👀
DnDruid: What egg have you found for our omelette this time?
BanAnna: Its always somethin fun with Isa
BelaBella: Not an egg. But she gave me cause for consideration. Trans girl, already fully transitioned, found her crying at scouting area. Wanted forcefem, but on herself. Clearly has some sort of past, but doesn't show much yet. I have a hunch. Inês Scorza Gargiulio, she said she was. Thought it'd be interesting to at least have a look @DnDruid
materialgirl: So an already out trans girl wanting to feel validated by being force-femmed? Many such cases, but OMG, I love her already. Poor thing though, you take care of her ok?
BelaBella: Yes. Sent her home.
BanAnna: You and you ideas.....
DnDruid: Kk. I'll see what I can dig up. ETA should be tomorrow midday for info. Hope you know what you're doing.