The Transformation Story Archive The Other Sex

Male Order Bride

by nanomage

I was cruising through the web when my attention was caught by an interesting link at the bottom of the page at freebie titty site.


Amazing, I thought, A nineteenth century idea, in a twenty-first century medium.

Clicking on the site, I was rewarded with a page full of full of lovely ladies from all over the world, whose dream it seemed, was to become an American citizen by marriage. There were tall ones, short ones, Nordic blondes to Africans, Asians and Latinas. Each picture had a profile of the woman, name, measurements education, and background. clicking on her pic gave entry to a page with more information and, Lo and behold! NUDE shots! I bookmarked the site instantly.

Now I will be the first to admit, I am no prize to be had. 40, overweight, balding, 6 feet tall if I stood up straight, and I put the "W" in WASP, My social skills were lacking and my hygiene left a bit to be desired, but, all in all, I was not too bad off, and I was an American.

I wondered how the scam worked. I had seen the bait, now where is the hook?

AHA! found it.


I enjoyed the humor of the mistype for a moment, then breezed back into the picture files.

CLICK! Download pic, CLICK, and so on... I was in hog heaven.

Then I hit the pic for Jocelyn Vu. Can you say, love at first sight? Her face was an inticing mix of Asian and African, black curly hair framed the exquisite blend of facial features, her frame was Asian, but the tits and ass were African plush. The nude shot showed that her skin was flawless, a slight yellowish undertone to her chocolate coloring. Not a single hair below the nape of her neck, not even pubic. Well, this girl pushed all of my erotic buttons.

CLICK! download, CLICK, printfile!

I thought about her for the rest of the day, keeping the pic close at hand. That evening I went back to the site, I had not looked at the profile before, now I wanted to know every detail of her life. Pathetic really, the girl of my dreams was a picture on a scam website.

The first thing I noticed was that some of the pictures had changed, some gone, new ones added in their place. A notice I had not seen before said:


Oh my god! I quickly cycled through the pages until I found her pic again. She was still there! I read her profile as I debated with myself over forking over the cash, to arrange a meeting I guessed, I was not sure how it worked.

19 hgt4'10" wgt 105

Jocelyn is of mixed parentage, mother Vietnamese, father Unknown, but probably a US soldier of African descent. Orphaned at age six, she was raised by her uncle, now also deceased. She is in the US on a student visa and is studying biochemistry, She speaks Vietnamese, French, and English, and can also read Latin and German.

Jocelyn fervently desires to gain Citizenship in the US, considering the treatment of children of US soldiers in Vietnam, this is highly understandable and does make her motivated to remain here.

I did not hesitate now, I hit SELECT, and let my credit card macro fill in the blanks on the form. After a few minutes the screen changed.


Am I am Idiot or what?

I work mostly at home, customizing commercial software packages, website design, that sort of stuff, no big deal but it pays good, and I hate dealing with clocks. I give my clients a long estimate of working time, then do it up in a few days, then I sit back and relax until the due date arrives. Just before then I call the client and ask how important the job is. Scares the buggers big time, then I deliver a day or so early. That day's project was a plumbing supply house in Georgia, No big deal, catalog and online ordering webpage, with an interface built in so that the ninnies at the shop could input new products and prices. I wondered how long it will take then to find out that the homepage loads a music file of "On Wisconsin", none of the comps at the place had sound cards!

That night I wondered what I could offer a young lady such as Jocelyn. Financially I was doing fine, the house is paid for. close to 200k in the bank, few outstanding debts. I could do all right for her for the five years we would have to be married for her citizenship to be valid. But would she like me? want to sleep with me? Who was I kidding? She would turn out to be interested in my money, car, and American birth certificate. She would get her degree and citizenship papers, then take off, never once having spent a minute in my bed.

I didn't care. All she had to do was look good, and be there. It would be nice if she pretended to being a wife. Far better that she actually be one.

Pragmatism ruled my next few days, I did my work, had my lawyer draw up a prenuptial agreement, carted all the family heirlooms to a safety deposit box. By all the odd gods of the galaxy, I was pathetic.

The package arrived, delivered by a USPS delivery driver. I franticly tore open the seal and spread the contents on the coffee table. A small cameo pin, and some papers written in Vietnamese. And a green card issued to Jocelyn Vu. Nothing there to indicate a meeting place or a phone number. Oh, what a smart guy I was! taken to the tune of $29.95! At least the fantasy was worth the price.

I picked up the cameo, nice work, a feminine profile in black stone cut through to an alabaster base, silver filigreed setting and a pin clasp on the back to be pinned to clothing. I pricked my finger on the pin as I turned it over looking for some cute but annoying trick, like a phone number etched in the back. No such luck.

No use to complain, I got taken good. But being an honest and diligent hacker, I fired up my comp, loaded my best webcracker and went on a hunt for Mail Order Brides WebServer. Nuking that server would give me at least some pleasure, but I did not find it, nor was the bookmark anywhere on my system. My Internet history file had no link listed.

Rule two of hacking: Follow the money. The $29.95 had to have gone somewhere. Wrong. The $29.95 had gone...Nowhere. There was no debit to my account for any amount on that day.

My screen flickered. There was no debit to Jocelyn Vu's account on that day. What the hell?

That's when I noticed my hand, the left one, still a bit sore from the prick of the pin. Slightly darker and smaller than the right hand. If an alien had burst from my chest, I could not have been more surprised.

Panicked now I went to the papers on the coffee table. Birth Registration, Jocelyn Vu, Custody papers, to Jocelyn Vu's Uncle. Exit papers, Vietnam. I could read the things! New papers in English, Entry permit, Alien residency, papers claiming the American estate of a deceased Uncle,(my house, car, bank accounts, and investments). all of them signatory to Jocelyn Vu.

The coloration in my hands had evened out, but was darker than before. My body's shape was altering subtlety, without any sensation of change. But I knew it was happening, soon, even the mirror would show me, Jocelyn Vu.

Yeah, "any of these women can be you for $29.95" I must have had 'chump' written all over me.

I considered my options. None. Correction, One, go with it, accept what was coming. How bad could it be? Deportation could be bad, but avoidable by........marrying an American...Bad Idea! Bad!

After a while I noticed that I was wandering around the house, cleaning things, and I feared that I was being rewired to be a 'Suzy homemaker', But nah, I always saved housework for when I had to do heavy thinking, or when I was upset. This certainly qualified on both counts.

The changes continued at the same slow pace. Very pedestrian magic this was, why, in all the magic stories I had read magic was instantaneous. This made snail races exciting. My frustration finally came through. "Get it over with, you faceless motherless bastards!"

I was startled by the chime of the doorbell. Before I answered it, I took a quick look in the mirror beside the door (the mirror had been there for almost an hour by then) I did not look much different, a bit darker, a bit smaller. I was getting used to things changing behind my back.

The man at the door was Hispanic, and looked confused. I could see he had a mailer just like mine.

"Yes,", I asked. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh...... I am looking for an Inga Voss. I have some stuff that must be hers and this is the only address I have."

This was becoming a familiar routine. "Is that a mailer from Mail Order Brides?"

"Uh..... yeah, I sent in for with a lady from the list, but they sent me this weird stuff instead, Look, I got a rental agreement here that says she rents a room here. Is it true?"

"I have the feeling it will be shortly. Better come in and wait for her. Can I get you something, a drink?"

"A beer, if you have one."

I served the man a beer, and popped one myself. If "my" profile was correct, it would soon be my last for two years. If anything the guy was more nervous now than he was before. He glanced at the pile of papers and mailer that was my own doom. "Yeah, I sent in for a date too, tell me, has anything unusual happened since you opened the package?"

"Uh, no, I got it two days ago, but I could not find a phone number or anything, just this address on the rental form."

Two days ago, and he had not changed? now I was confused. "Lets look at what you have and see if we can clear this up."

He dumped his package out on the table, it looked a lot like mine, but one thing missing, a cameo. "Is that everything in there?"

He flexed the package and looked inside. "Oh man, there is a piece of jewelry in there stuck to the corner." He dug his hand in to retrieve it.

"Don't!" I yelled.

"Ouch!" he yelled back at me. "Why'd ya yell at me, I stuck myself on it!"

"I think Inga will be home very soon, sit down."

I explained the situation to Miguel, as I learned his name was, and I mean was, he would be answering to Inga pretty damn soon. Surprisingly he took it very calmly, but then I was taking my conversion far too calmly. We finished off the six-pack in the fridge, and I was certain by the end of the afternoon, he was taking on a more Nordic appearance.

Suddenly he jumped up, ran to the bathroom and began puking his guts up. He chanted "Oh man, oh man," between heaves. I stood at the door, wondering if I should help, or if this was the next stage, and I would be joining him. He leaned back against the bathtub. "Oh man, this bites big time. Inga is a stripper, and has a 60 inch bust! I'm gonna be a fuckin' cow."

"Well, Inga, you know what I am thinking?"

"What? And don't call me Inga, not yet. Oh Shit."

"I still have one spare bedroom, and our tormentors have a sense of order, Your new name is Voss, mine is Vu, I will bet a hundred bucks that by tomorrow there will be another new girl at the door, with a name that starts with VY, or WA!"

I would have won that bet.

I put "Inga" to bed in one of the spare rooms, her room now. The transformation was definitely moving quicker with her, perhaps due to it having been delayed by two days. She was taller, and blonder, and very much bigger about the chest. The fact that I would work up to a C cup was nothing compared to the whoppers that she already had.

I was about six inches shorter by the time I put myself to bed, and had a bosom. I could see Jocelyn in my face, and sure as hell saw it in my figure. By that time, I was more interested in completion than in the change. I wanted it over with. I made bets with myself over what object in my bedroom would alter next until I slept.

When I woke up I was pretty much done. In a couple hours it would be a full 24 since I opened the package. My room was feminine, the clothing in the closet was too. Well, so was I dammit! It would not be so bad, but I was so short now. Everything had to be reached for on tiptoes. The only amusing thing that morning was watching Inga try to walk with those incredibly ridiculous breasts. Yeah, she was done too.

My Office was outfitted as a study, books on biochemistry, other subjects. some in German, French, and Vietnamese. My computer was unchanged, and my hacker stuff still right where I left it, but neatly stored, and some embellishments to the room that could only be called "Cute". I looked to me that my profile would be followed to the letter. I hope that Inga had some brains in her profile, I would hate to have to live with a complete bimbo.

Katherine Walters arrived, red faced and stuttering, at about noon, completely female, an immigrant from Ireland by her profile. She had the sweetest accent, but then so did Inga and I. Since I was the nominal host, I cut to the chase and admitted that we had had an encounter with Mail Order Brides as well. She said simply that she had been Jacob Weiz the day before. Inga showed her to her new room, while I put together salads for lunch. Geeze, even my taste in food had changed.

Come to think of it, I had bathed, dressed, made myself up, without any thought about it. All of it second nature. I had not even fondled myself, yesterday I would have thought that I would have indulged in an orgy of self abuse, but my body was so normal as to be boring. And Inga and Katherine, absolute babes, but, nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

Rats! that means I am heterosexual, and that means......Men. Figures. It would not do to have a mail order bride be Lez.

So I waited for the other shoe to drop. Which it did by 5PM.

The telephone. for me.

"Hello, this is Jocelyn, Who is this?"

"Hi Jocelyn, I'm John, John Barton, I got your name from an online dating service."

"Well John, I could use day off. But for a first date, somewhere very public. A girl has to be careful."

"How about tomorrow afternoon, at the college? I go there too. Comp/SCI major."

"You know what I look like, I will be free by 3. Meet you at the Library steps?"

"Sounds good."

Inga and Katherine had calls by 6pm.

Male Order Bride copyright 1999 by nanomage.

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