The Totalitarian Society You Will Love

Roman Dyer woke up in a warm and comfortable bed. Something he didn't expect as he had fallen asleep in a cold coffin-like pod, while a dozen of tubes pumped chemicals into him.

He was still in a pod, but one that was much roomier and luxurious. In the dim light, he could barely see details. There was no handle or button. Still, he extended his hand and gasped. This slender form definitely was not his. Moving his hand close to his face he saw delicate and female looking fingers.

Slowly the light inside the pod grew in intensity and more details revealed itself in the soft orange glow. A fluffy and soft blanket covered him. Curious, yet with trepidation, he slowly pushed the blanket off him.

It's edge slowly glided away and revealed mounds of soft flesh that gave way to a valley of a soft toned belly. As impossible as it seemed Roman knew he had woken up in a female body.

A soft hiss and the light growing to a brighter amber light alerted him to the opening of his pod. Outside he saw milky gray walls and a sleek glossy floor. Slowly he sat upright and extended a dainty looking leg over the edge.

The floor wasn't cold as he would have imagined. Instead, it was perfect. To his naked skin, it was not cold or warm. Some type of floor heating he presumed.

Standing up he examined his new body further. His legs looked long and toned. Just like his arms. The torso taut and athletic. The breasts relatively small. Maybe a B-Cup? In the soft amber glow, it was hard to tell but Roman guessed he had perfect creamy skin. Maybe a little on the pale side.

His marveling over his new body was cut short as several lights activated. Like will-o'-wisps they beckoned him to follow them. Out of the alcove where his pod stood and into a long hallway. Along the hallway, he could see more alcove with more pods. All closed.

Despite him being alone and in a corridor cast in twilight he felt a serene presence to it. Besides the soft beating of his heart, no sound could be heard. He should've been frightened to wake up in a strange place like that and in a body not his own. Yet all he felt was curiosity.

For now, all he could do was follow the soft glowing lights. As he neared the end of the hallway he noticed faint sounds. Coming closer his mind was reminded of keystrokes of an old typewriter. Yet it was not quite the same.

At the end of the corridor was a bend and Roman slowly inched closer. It opened up to a small room, that was sparsely furnished. An office desk made in a sleek mix of glass and plastic. Two matching chairs. One in front and one behind. Sitting on the chair behind the desk was a woman in a futuristic and elegant dress. Busy typing on what Roman guessed was a computer.

"Please come in so we can get started," the woman stated. Not looking up or otherwise acknowledging Roman.

Hesitant he made his way over. Clearly, she knew he was there. Maybe even expected him. If he wanted answers then he had to risk confronting her.

"Please sit," she offered without taking her eyes of the transparent monitor. Roman could see lines of text, too small to decipher from his position, and a picture of a woman.

He complied and was surprised when the soft leather-like padding adjusted to him. For a moment he contemplated to hide his nakedness, yet chose to forgo it. To display such modesty it was far too late.

He was about to open his mouth when she quickly hushed him. "Patience. We start in a moment."

A few last keystrokes and she turned around to him. "Welcome to the totalitarian society you will love! I am Olivia, your case worker. I will be leading your immigration interview."

Involuntary the fine hairs in Roman's neck stood up. A totalitarian society? That didn't bode well. "There must be a mistake," Roman said but stopped at hearing his voice. It was higher than he was used to and so effortlessly melodic.

"You were part of the 'long sleep program' by a company called 'Centurial Sleep'? One designed to combat overpopulation by placing large chunks of the population into suspended animation. Or stasis if you so will." she calmly asked him. Hesitant he nodded.

"In that case, everything is in order. The company and its stock were bought off by this colony and…"

"I am not stock!" Roman interrupted her as anger flared through his veins. "My name is Roman Dyer and I have rights!"

There was a long pause, while Olivia studied him. Then, in a hard voice, she corrected him. "No. Your name is Miss Scott. Miss Maureen Scott and you have only one right. To be a productive member of this society."

"But," Roman started to protest but was cut off by Olivia.

"No, Miss Scott. Your old life is over. Time to start a new one." She stopped and continued in a softer tone. "I understand your confusion and hesitation. It was not long ago that I woke up just like you. Believe me when I say by the end of orientation you will not mind. Or to be precise you will love it. After all, this is the totalitarian society you will love."

"You mean you will brainwash me to follow your dictatorship. Make me an obedient little puppet," Roman countered.

"On the contrary. But you will soon understand. Now let's get started. The quicker we are the less lost in confusion you will be."

Roman wanted to argue against it but stopped himself. What was the use? For all he knew he was trapped in this room and in a body, he was unfamiliar with. Maybe he wasn't even on earth anymore. He knew he might wake up far in the future, but right now he couldn't even judge how far. "Go ahead," he said sullenly.

"Your name is Maureen Scott. Body age of twenty-five and female. You are completely healthy. No chronic illnesses or genetic anomalies," Olivia stated in a matter of fact voice. She wasn't asking Roman about him. He was being told of his new identity. If he wanted to or not.

Then her first question popped up. "I understand your previous job was that of an architect and your main hobby was that of writing …" She took a moment to scan his file on the computer screen. "Ah here. Gay vampire erotic fiction. As in male on male. Is that correct?"

Roman blushed furiously. "H-how do you know that?" It should be impossible that anyone knew this. He always had hidden his tracks. No leads tracing back to him. He was sure of it.

"We know everything, Miss Scott. Do not worry. I won't be judging you. In fact, no one will. Judging others is against the law. Unless it is part of your job. Now then. Good news. Your new job will be that of a writer. Specialized in homoerotic fiction with male on male vampires as the focus. You are required to either write or research this subject each day for at least four hours. You may request a change in specialization after one year."

Roman was baffled. Did she just really said that? "You want me to write smut?" he asked flabbergasted.

"Miss Scott. This is your immigration interview so I will be lenient, but what I just said is law. We do not judge. That includes occupations. Yes, we expect you to write erotic fiction. After all, there is a need for it in our society. Not for architects. For that, we have A.I.'s."

"I … I am sorry," Roman managed to say. Whatever this was it got more surreal by the minute.

"Miss Scott. Be honest with me and yourself for a minute. Without the pressure of society of old you do not really mind, right?"

The question startled him. He needed a moment to come to terms with it. If really no one judged him here than indeed he might not mind. In fact, hasn't he often dreamed about it? To let go of the responsibilities of his old job. Hadn't it been one of the reasons he chose to go into stasis? "I guess not" he confirmed.

"In that case, we should continue," Olivia stated. "Accordingly to your hobby, now your job, one might wrongly conclude that you like being a man and are gay."

"I am not gay. I mean. It is complicated. And I like being a man." Roman threw in.

"Yes, it is quite complicated," Olivia agreed. "That is why we use advanced artificial intelligence to analyze each immigrant. You are one hundred percent sexually attracted to women. However, you have a latent interest in men. Not personally, but to be more specific men on men interaction as a separate entity. By analyzing your past social interaction and fictional work it was concluded that you are partial to being either male or female. However, it was determined that switching you to the female gender will yield a higher productivity. Therefore you find yourself now as one Maureen Scott."

Reluctantly he had to nod. It made sense. In a twisted kind of way. So much in fact that it was creepy. Maureen. His new name. It was a familiar one. At first, he had chalked it up to coincidence. Now it was clear why. Most of his smut, no, erotic fiction had contained a female observer. Spying on the main protagonists. Now he noticed how often he gave her a default name. Maureen. The name for the pervy female voyeur obsessed with seeing men having sex and now the name was his. Oddly fitting he had to admit.

If they were so spot on with everything were they right with switching him into a woman? He wasn't sure, yet couldn't dismiss the idea outright. "So that's why I am Maureen," he whispered.

"That is correct," Olivia confirmed and shook Roman out of his self-reflection. "Now. May we continue?"

Roman nodded. By now his outcry of protest had died down and a curiosity had gripped him. What was in store for him now? How much more secrets would they drag out of his soul?

"With the job and personal identity resolved we will be going over to lifestyle. I will show you your accommodation later. For now, you might be open to getting dressed."

"I would like that very much," Roman agreed.

"In this totalitarian society goods are distributed equally. That means clothes will be produced centrally and then distributed accordingly to need," Olivia explained to him.

"So you are saying I have to wear some kind of uniform?" Roman said tensely. He knew all this was too good to be true.

"Yes, but in the widest sense possible. Small batches of each piece of clothes are manufactured and then equally distributed. With over three billion people in this society, we guarantee you will never run into another person wearing the same as you. Now for the logistics. Each month you will receive a delivery of garments accordingly to three styles chosen for you. Those garments you will keep for twelve months. Then they are retrieved."

"And am I allowed to know what styles were chosen without my input?" He asked on edge. Not that he disliked the idea to always have new clothes. He didn't like shopping anyway. But giving up his freedom to chose wasn't sitting well with him.

"Certainly," Olivia replied. Either not noticing how tense Roman was or ignoring it. "For you, the following styles were chosen for day to day wear. With seventy percent you will have 'simple and elegant evening dresses'. Followed by twenty-one percent 'submissive BDSM' related garments. Lastly, we have nine percent 'dominant BDSM' clothing."

"You expect me to wear dresses all day?" he asked flabbergasted. "That's not very … practical."

"Not the whole day," Olivia corrected him. "But most of it. For sport and night-wear you get separate garments. Now talking brings us only so far. Why don't we open your first clothing box together?"

Olivia pressed a button and to Roman's surprise, one of the walls fluidly receded. Leaving a high mirror, a long bench and a moderate big box in its wake.

"Go ahead," Olivia urged him. "It is yours to open. I am only here to assist."

Roman stood up and walked over. Only to stop as he caught his reflection in the mirror. The woman he saw was gorgeous. The athletic build he had admired before was now revealed from a new perspective. What he hadn't seen, couldn't really, was the innocent face greeting him. Shoulder length vibrant red hair framed a slightly elongated face with small chin and high cheekbones. A petite nose and thick, but shaped eyebrows. And most of all captivating emerald eyes framed by light freckles.

"I take it you like your new self?" Olivia softly asked. He hadn't even noticed that she had gotten up and had stepped closer to him.

"I am beautiful," Roman half whispered back.

"Subjectively speaking, yes you are. Now, why don't we accent your beauty with some clothes?"

Roman nodded yet again but still needed a moment to tear his eyes away from the mirror. He then stepped to the bench and the box on it. It was uniform and without any feature safe of a soft glowing button. After pressing it the top receded just like the wall did. Without leaving a trace. Inside neatly folded clothes were stacked on each other accompanied by three pairs of high heels.

"Go ahead and look through it. Chose one outfit for now and the rest will be transported to your accommodation. There will be three more boxes to give you some variety for your wardrobe."

Roman reached in and pulled a little black dress out from the top of the stack. It was very basic without much decoration, yet oddly charming in its minimalistic way. Olivia's voice and statement came back to him. 'Simple and elegant' indeed.

Next was a long dress in a deep green that reminded Roman of his new eyes. It was silky and light. Judging by him holding it up it was very form hugging right down to a narrow skirt that reached to the floor.

"His one," Roman said awestruck. Smitten with this dress he was unwilling to even look at the others.

"That is quite alright," Olivia agreed. "But might I suggest an addition?"

After Roman agreed Olivia fished out a small lacy black garment. Panties. Blushing because he forgot the basics, he quickly took it and stepped into it. He shivered slightly as he pulled them up. It felt so very different from his usual underwear.

Olivia meanwhile had lightly bunched up the dress in a donut and held it close to the floor so Roman could step into it. The panties had been nothing compared to the silky material sliding over his smooth skin. He had to suppress a moan as the last bit was pulled over his sensitive breasts. Olivia adjusted the thin straps over his shoulders and then tugged the dress taunt.

Roman admired himself in the mirror. His gorgeous face gave way to a slender neck and narrow shoulders. Flowing into small, but perky breasts held up by a build in support in the dress. The smooth fabric hugged his ribcage and narrow waist. Only to flare out just enough to hug his shapely butt and hips. Transitioning over to a tight long skirt that reached the ground.

"We are not done yet," Olivia told him. She picked up a pair of black high heels and placed them on the ground so he could step in.

"I have never worn heels before. Those do look high," he remarked with trepidation.

"You will learn," Olivia said in a calming voice. "Besides. Your body and more specifically your feet were designed with high heels in mind. Contrary to humans of the old ages you won't suffer any pain or damages."

Roman was sure she was right and stepped into them. Suddenly he was a few inches higher and looked down to see Olivia closing for him the several straps around his ankles. Fixing the unfamiliar shoes to his feet. Strangely enough, it didn't feel bad or uncomfortable.

"And there we have it," Olivia beamed. "How do you like the new you?"

The truth was that Roman was mesmerized. Never would he have thought to see such a creature of elegance and beauty. Even less so as his own mirror image. Standing on the heels gave him a slight graciousness he had lacked before.

"Come on," Olivia urged. "Time to get you out to your new home."

Roman heard her walking away, yet couldn't tear his eyes away. He saw not a trace of his old self. In his place stood the epitome of beauty.

"Hello, my name is Maureen Scott," the woman greeted herself. Hearing herself and seeing herself felt right. She couldn't describe it any better. There was no more Roman. He was the past. Maureen was the future.

"Miss Scott! Maureen!" The yell made Maureen look. Olivia was waiting for her at a door that hadn't been there before. Flustered, the newly born woman hurried to catch up. Leaving behind the identity of Roman Dyer.

Olivia led her to a small train station. At least that was the closest analogy Maureen could come up with. A dozen carriages were parked there. The size of minivans, but besides that, the vehicles had not much in common. They had the form of an elongated sphere that had a floor, bench and a glass capsule around it.

Olivia stepped up to one and the glass dome split to reveal a door. Maureen followed her in and was surprised that she hadn't fallen down yet. Her first time on heels easier than she would have guessed.

Once seated the vehicle glided outward on a track. A moment later Maureen was glued to the glass as alien landscape revealed itself.

"Welcome to Utopia 3 in the Utopia system. Home of the totalitarian society you will love. This planet is very earth like. The most obvious difference is the twin suns. They are smaller and further away from the sun in the Sol system. Right now, this twilight you are seeing is actually daytime. With lower light intensity the decision was made to adjust our eyes accordingly. We are now sensitive to bright lights, but more capable in dim light and twilight. That is why interior lights are set to a more muted glow."

Maureen nodded along as Olivia explained. Then she made her first own observation. "The landscape is very blue-ish."

"That is due to genetic modifications of the plants. Why I don't know. Probably to capture more sunlight. Now, do you see the clusters of houses around here? Those are neighborhoods. Each one has a demographic of people sharing similar interests. We are on the way to one suited for you. From there the further you go the fewer people will share your interests. At least that is the general idea behind it. There are several clusters for each demographic scattered over the world."

"So I am confined to my neighborhood not by walls, but by having an unappealing surrounding?" Maureen wanted to know.

Olivia chuckled. "In a way that is correct. But you would have to walk quite a while to reach places where you would feel like you do not belong. But please keep in mind that you are allowed to freely travel this planet as you wish. It just might not be in your best interest. It also would tempt you more to break the law."

"And what law would that be?" Maureen wanted to know.

"The law to not judge others of course," Olivia reminded her.

"That makes sense I guess," Maureen admitted.

"Now let's return to the matter at hand. Our immigration interview isn't over. Or more precisely the orientation part. As with clothes you will receive packages specific to your needs at certain intervals. You are interested in cooking, correct?"

"Interested? Yes," Maureen confirmed. "But my job, my old one, never left me time to properly learn it. Buying fresh produce and the cooking itself took too much time."

"Well, from now on each day your fridge will be restocked automatically. Along with fresh produce, you will receive three recipes and instructions for meals fitting your taste, skill, and dietary needs."

Maureen gave her an honest smile. "If I really only have to work four hours each day then I can finally learn in peace."

"Hold your horses on that thought," Olivia interrupted her. "Yes, you only have to work four hours each day. However, you are required to attend some social activities."

Seeing Maureen's confusion Olivia explained. "For one your profile dictates that you have a need to be submissive. Not all the time, but regularly. Over the next weeks, you will be attending three introductory meetings per week with a dominant person. Once a compatible match has been made you are required to engage in a session with said person three or four times a week."

Maureen swallowed heavily. "But only if I agree to a person as my dominant partner, right? What if I don't find one that I can trust?"

Olivia gave her a calming smile. "Don't worry. The meetings are scheduled due to advanced algorithms. Most matches have a seventy percent chance of success. Consequent meetings have even higher success ratings."

There was some silence as Maureen digested the news. If it worked then it fulfilled a long-standing wish she had. To have a partner to explore the scary, but the oh so intriguing world of BDSM.

"That is why I have the twenty percent submissive BDSM clothing in my care packages," Maureen concluded.

"Twenty-one," Olivia corrected her. "And nine percent dominant ones. We do know you are not fully submissive. After a month there will be meetings for you to find a submissive. In parallel, you will then have two to three sessions as the domina per month."

Maureen's heart was beating faster. This was shaping up to be too good to be true.

"Of course, there will be other commitments," Olivia continued. "A few classes to round out your skill set. Dancing, cooking and so on. As well as a very discrete teacher for women who have been a man previously."

That made Maureen blush, but at the same time, she was grateful that even that had been planned in advanced.

"There will also be a few small social gatherings now and then. Speaking out of my own experience it is very easy to make there some new friends. Last and most importantly is the mandatory meeting with your case worker. That will be me. Once a month we will see each other. Those will be times when you can request alterations to your lifestyle parameters. I will also inform you if we, the society, will alter your parameters."

Just then Maureen noticed the carriage slowing down.

"Good. We are here." Olivia stood up and exited the vehicle. "Welcome to your new neighborhood. Your apartment is thirty-six on the B course. Here our ways part. There will be plenty of further guides in your new home. If you have further questions you can ask one of the helpers at that info kiosk over there."

Maureen looked where Olivia was pointing. There stood three people seemingly made out of plastic and one normal one. "What are those?" she asked.

"Androids," Olivia replied. "And one human. Most jobs can be accomplished by them."

"Then why is there still a human?" Maureen wanted to know.

"Because for some it is the ideal job to write homoerotic fiction between two men. For others, it is to be available and to be helpful."

That made sense, but another question pushed itself into Maureen's mind. "If jobs are based on personality what makes you a good case worker for immigrants?"

"Ahhh. Right on the spot. Good question," Olivia admitted. She leaned closer as if she was sharing some secret. "Maybe I only handle cases like you? Former men waking up in the body of a woman. Seeing their confusion at first that gradually gives way to acceptance. Maybe that is it."

Olivia stepped a few feet away and gave her a cheery goodbye wave. "Or I am pulling your legs right now. Who knows. See you at your mandatory meeting." With that, Olivia walked away at a brisk pace before Maureen could react.

Shaking her head Maureen turned around and walked slowly to the kiosk. Given the tight skirt and her high heels, she could only do small steps. Not that she minded. It was quite the intoxicating feeling to have the slippery silk glide over her smooth legs. Already she could see herself taking walks around the neighborhood just to enjoy this sensation.

Looking around she saw that even with her evening gown she hardly stood out. All kinds of people milled around. Be it in latex or leather. PVC or velvet. She saw a whole sub-culture that spoke to her heart. She couldn't wait to become part of it.

Arriving at the kiosk she decided to go to the only human there. "Hi. My name is … Scott. Maureen Scott."

"Of course," the attendee replied with a big smile. "The new immigrant, correct? I am Lillian Huffman. How can I help?"

Maureen couldn't help, but to smile back. Lillian was one of those persons you inexplicably trusted on the spot. It might also help that she looked quite cute with her baby blue eyes and strawberry blond hair.

"I know that my apartment is thirty-six on the B-course. But I have no clue where that is."

"Oh, no problem." Lillian practically beamed with cheerfulness. "Let me show you."

They hadn't come far when Lillian suddenly asked. "I know it might be a little early to ask, but what do you think of this place so far?"

Maureen needed a moment. "Honestly at first, I feared the worst. Now I actually like it here. In fact, if only half is true what I learned about this place I just about might love it here."

"Of course!" Lillian half shouted. "After all this is the totalitarian society …"

"... you will love!" both finished together. Breaking out in chuckles afterward.

The end.

If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
97 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 4442 words long.