Mature Content

Dune: Paul Atreides Feminization - Part One [TG] by Transviscera

Mature Content

Dune: Paul Atreides Feminization - Part Two [TG] by Transviscera

Mature Content

Dune: Paul Atreides Feminization - Part Three [TG] by Transviscera

All characters 18+

Jamis lunged again. Paul shifted his own knife in a blurred motion, slipped sideways and thrust upwards where Jamis' chest was descending - then away to watch the man crumble. Jamis fell like a limp rag, face down, gasped once and turned his eyes towards Paul, then lay still on the desert floor. His dead eyes stared out like beads of dark glass.
The troop of watching fremen rushed forward, filling the arena, lifting the dead body of Jamis and carrying him into the sietch where his life's water would be reclaimed in the deathstill.
Paul's eyes were bright from the combat. He breathed heavily, the bloody crysknife loose in his grip. By Jamis' life had he gained membership among the fremen. He was one of them now. A voice among them called. "Needs a naming still."
Stilgar nodded, tugging on his beard. "I see strength in him, like the strength beneath a pillar. We shall name him Usu-"
"Muad'Dum," spoke another voice. It was the girl from his dreams. Chani, they'd called her. She moved close to him, staring at him strangely, like a parched man at a glass of water. "The name Muad'dib fits him."
"Little desert mouse?" Stilgar laughed. "Very well, if there are no objections from 'Muad'dib', that will be his name."
Paul focused his inner eye on the girl, looking into the innumerable futures that lay before him. Curious. Until now, all his futures had been inescapable, the great and terrible jihad he would wage across the Known Universe that he was desperate and powerless to avoid. Yet beside this girl, he saw a different destiny for himself, far humbler, one where he would not become an Emperor, and by which the deaths of billions could be avoided. The specific details of that fate eluded him, though he knew if he stuck with this fremen girl, he would certainly become no tyrant. For now, he would do whatever she bid, he decided.
"Oh, but you are cut," gasped Chani, touching a graze in Paul's stillsuit that trickled lifegiving water, tinged pink with blood from a lucky slash Jamis had slipped through. She was already beginning to strip the suit off him, much to embarassment with his mother and the other tribesfolk still so near. "A damaged suit is a death sentence in the desert," she explained. "My mother left her her stillsuit before she died. It is good quality and will fit you just fine."
"You want me to wear your mother's stillsuit?" Paul gasped, as the laughter of the men filled his ears.
"It still has some of her water in it. It would be an honor for you to wear it," Chani explained.
The ways of these desert people were peculiar, and Paul felt in no place to argue. Soon he was slipping on the offered suit. It was of an older design than the one he had been gifted by Liet-Kynes, more ornate, and the rigid inner corset pinched tightly against his midriff while leaving ample room about his chest and buttocks. He blushed at the Fremen's jibes.
Chani watched her Muad'dib keenly. How plump these offworlders were, she thought. How bloated with precious water. Compared to her parched flesh, this 'Paul' practically jiggled with moisture with every movement. There was enough water-wealth in his flesh to make her the richest woman in the sietch. Her eyes delighted at the succulent ripple of his ass, as her mother's suit pushed his supple flesh where it was best displayed. An extended stay in the suit would push and pull his figure, granting him a resplendent pair of mature breasts.
Chani pictured herself marching through the sietch with this juicy offworlder by her side or crawling before her while her people looked on in wonder. Men would travel from all over Arrakis to sample his body, softer than any fremen woman's, and share their moisture with those full lips. Already the men's jibes were fading into quietly muttered approval as they ravished his shapely figure with their eyes. A noble, was he? They would see how noble he looked when she paraded him as her personal, prize camel.