The Purest Gift Part 1

 This is a commission I did for DeviantArt

Noone knew what the Gift was – yet everyone knew it was worth having. They knew it was worth sacrificing everything to find it. The legendary treasure hidden somewhere in the caves just outside the Italian village of Femini attracted thousands of would be adventurers from around the world every year. Each desperate to be the one to discover the mythical artefact and reap its priceless rewards. Yet the caves that held the supposed prize were expansive and treacherous and many an experienced explorer had plundered their depths and never been seen again. Even still, every year that passed brought a fresh wave of heroes hunting fame and fortune.

None came more determined than Laurence Dodd – a billionaire playboy adrenaline junkie who rarely encountered a desire he couldn't buy or an obstacle he couldn't steamroller. The Gift was one of such rare treats that eluded him and so his need to acquire it had grown into something of an obsession.

Laurence's latest attempt was his most determined yet. Despite, plunging himself into the caverns alone, he made good progress over a number of days through the depths. He was no stranger to using people or exploiting assistance to get what he wanted, but he took no chances when it came to searching out the Gift. He could think of nothing worse than being made to share the treasure or worse, the recognition for finding it.

In spite of his progress, the caves had been a rough mistress and by the time Laurence reached a wide underground opening on the fifth day of his excursion, he was covered in dirt and bruises, bleeding from numerous places including one of his ears, and almost out of both food and drink. Upon noticing that the latest cavern was full of large bubbles floating out of a small rock-pool of glowing turquoise water, he thought he was hallucinating. It didn't help when the ethereal form of a waif of a woman appeared in one of the bubbles and started to speak to him.

“You must be tired,” she said softly, “you must be determined to have persevered this far. You must really want the Gift.” Laurence's attention peeked at the mention of his quarry. “But are you worthy of the Gift? You must be pure! You must be cleansed of your transgressions! You must be tested to see if you are worthy, but first you must be cleansed! Shall I cleanse you, Laurence?” The bubble rose above him and he nodded. Even as his head continued to bob, another huge bubble floated towards him and encapsulated his body. Instantly, the dirt, the bruises, the cuts and blood, all vanished and his skin was washed smooth. It became soft. It became feminine. Laurence saw his reflection in the surface of one of the bubbles and a beautiful woman stared back. He thought he recognised the face but his mind was swimming with the shock of what was happening. “Good!” The waif stared at him from her bubble. “Now you are ready to be tested!”  

Under the Influence Part 7

 The rest of this story so far is on my index page

By now, Brody had many regrets. He had after all allowed himself to be blackmailed by his sister into becoming her own personal Youtube Barbie, and worse, his subsequent revenge plot had backfired badly and he now found himself the subject of a nationwide sissy bounty hunt where every domme in the country believed he would be paying them 10k to make him their slave. What was it the OnlyFemmes post said? No safewords, no mercy? However, more than any of that, in that moment, he regretted clicking on Lady Radius's profile.

Claire's post complete with his name and address was still fresh on his screen, but already hungry dominas had begun licking their lips and posting comments on the bounty post. One mistress, Lady Radius, seemed particularly keen to claim her rewards and thinking she couldn't be all that bad, Brody clicked into her OnlyFemmes profile. It was that bad! The images were only on the screen a second but it was enough to scar him and spark him into action. Endless screenshots of helpless feminised sissies...metal and leather...chains and whips...throbbing dildos...bulging eyes. Brody shuddered. He had to get out of here now.

Quickly, he threw off the frilly dress he had put on to use his computer and looked for something more inconspicuous to wear. Catching sight of his undressed body in a mirror, he was reminded of how soft and curvy he had become from the hormones he had been taking to try to pass as Claire and his desperation to find appropriate clothing became all the more desperate. Of course, he had mailed all his own clothes to his sister as part of the blackmail but besides this, most of the outfits Claire had selected for his influencer career were ridiculous and over-the-top. The best he could find was a smart white blouse and and leather skirt he had been made to dress in for a work-wear video and so he pulled them on and stuffed a handful of other clothing into the biggest purse he had. Seeing that his grown out hair had become loose and his makeup smudged in his panic, he tossed some cosmetics into the bag, climbed into some heels and headed for the door.

Brody had tried on hundreds of outfits for thousands of people through the supposed 'comfort' of his webcam but not since his tormenting night promoting 'Ripped Gene's' had he been outside en femme, and even that wasn't during daylight. Now, exiting his building, even knowing how convincing his transformation was, he felt horribly exposed. Knowing that an army of mistresses were out there desperate to make him their bitch only exacerbated things. Clutching his purse in one hand, he peered out from behind a stone pillar at the crowds of people going about their daily lives, no idea what to do next. He suddenly realised that he had not put any panties back on after his revealing webcam show and a breeze crept up his flowing skirt and around his hormone shrivelled manhood. Whatever he was going to do, he couldn't stay here and he certainly couldn't go home. Friends and family obviously weren't an option in his current state so he needed to lay low while he figured things out. He had a little money so maybe he could stay at a local hotel for a few days while he ordered some men's clothes and turned himself back to his normal self. There's no way he could regret that...right?!

Whatever Happened to Jared and Rory? (Sissy vs Sissy vs Sissy)

 The full story including the original Sissy vs Sissy is on my index page

The water was warm. And there were bubbles...lots of bubbles – enough to cover their naked bottoms. These were about the only positives of bath day – truly the smallest of small mercies. Jared and Rory sat in the tub facing each other – each a living feminised reminder of the other's predicament.

Anna had removed their underwear bottoms but left their bras on, Rory in black and Jared in white, as they were effectively redundant but for furthering their humiliation, and had taken great pleasure in leading them to Aunt Clarissa's bathroom on their hands and knees via matching dog leashes she had fixed round their necks. The size of the bath meant that both boys were forced to kneel in the water so she made the best of this by making them lean all the way back while she scrubbed at them with a large sponge. Relief had flooded their faces when she had revealed they could remove the buttplugs for their wash but the tiny cock cages remained on and Anna had smirked wickedly at seeing the boys' imprisoned dicks strain against their restraints as she took her time rinsing their bodies. By now they had spent a maddening amount of time in chastity and her touch was clearly too much for them to handle. She tried to imagine their shame and frustration at having their bodies betray them for the very person responsible for their degradation and grinned even wider.

“Maybe we need to start milking you...” Anna said thoughtfully as she adjusted the cat ears atop Rory's head and almost burst into laughter at the sudden hopeful expression in his eyes. “Or maybe you should milk each other...” The expression turned to anger and then quickly to shame. Anna parted the bubbles and cupped Rory's groin as if it were a wounded kitten. “We can't keep our precious sissies with blue balls can we?” She raised one eyebrow and leaned close to the horrified sissy's face, keeping her hand wrapped around his genitals and smirking as she felt their futile bulge. Without warning, Rory gave a sudden shudder and shot out a leg, catching Jared on the hip. “Well, that wasn't very nice!”

“I'm sorry!” Rory stammered. “I didn't mean to – it was an accident!”

“Nevertheless...” Anna shook her head and stood back from the bathtub. “I think it is important you make amends!” She giggled at the sorrowful gaze Rory offered his friend, knowing it wasn't for what he had done but for what was to come. “I think you should show how sorry you are with a big apologetic kiss!” Rory stared at her hesitantly. “And if you don't, well, I am sure Aunt Clarissa will teach you some tenderness this evening.” Anna grinned triumphantly as her two obedient toys slowly lent in with their lips parted.  

Rules of Disengagement Part 3

 

And so Michael and Sara were reunited, alas with a brand new dynamic to their relationship. As unable to satisfy her as he had been as a man, he was more than equipped to do so as her sissy. Sara was not a natural dominant even though she knew the sight of Michael's humiliation made her tremble in ways he had never managed before, and so Steph was more than willing to train her sister how to embarrass, debase and degrade the man in her life. She no longer lived with them, but she was always on hand to lend her advice, her firm hand across Michael's backside or even her used panties for his afternoon snack.

And what choice did Michael have? The circumstances of his housing situation hadn't changed and he was glad to have Steph out of his home – at least most of the time. Sara didn't detest him as Steph did. She even loved him again in a weird way. But things were not as they once were by any stretch of the imagination. The dress had become his uniform and Steph had supplied a collection of equally humiliating alternatives. Michael never did find out what became of his actual clothes. He was able to move out of the basement and back into the bedroom but even that wasn't the blessing it might have been. As Sara got better at being dominant, it just meant that his submission was more complete, his fiancee able to play her games with him all night as well as during the day.

It was on such a day that Steph visited her sister to give a graduation of sorts to her apprentice. Michael was in his familiar cotton dress, his butt throbbing from an impromptu after breakfast spanking Sara had decided to dish out and his hair itching underneath his wig. Soon it would be long enough that he wouldn't need the wig and Sara had promised to use her big wooden brush on it instead of just his backside.

“He is yours! He must learn to recognise your taste!” Steph was explaining to Sara. Both woman stood before Michael in watching pencil skirts that had been unzipped at the back to expose their pert arses. Both had removed their panties and Michael's cheeks were bulging like a hamster to hold them in his mouth. “Merely sniffing will not do – it will not be enough. If he is to be your sissy, he must inhale you fully. He must breathe you deep into his lungs.” Steph ordered Michael to lie on the floor, explaining that the sofa was too good for him, and told Sara to stand over him. She did so before slowly lowering herself onto Michael's face. Once her bare ass was firmly straddling him, she released herself and let out a long loud fart. He wanted to cough and spit out the panties but she remained mounted atop him, holding him in place. Another fart followed, and another and another and Michael thought he might suffocate. He felt hands pulling at the waistband of his panties and realised in his darkness that they must be Steph's. His cock was pulled free and hope rose in his chest briefly until he heard a soft click as something tight and hard was fastened around his genitals. “Now he is truly yours!” Steph whispered triumphantly as Sara sat back to press her ass down as she ripped a final and longest fart right up Michael's nose.  

Rules of Disengagement Part 2

 

In the weeks that followed, Michael did not leave his basement. It was a prison – its locks the shame of his new costume. Steph brought him food twice a day and a change of panties every morning – always something humiliatingly satin or silky or ruffled. He didn't see Sara once during this time and he began to wonder where she thought he was. Had Steph fed her sister some kind of story? And what had become of his clothes? He imagined his gaoler selling them, or worse, burning them. On the eleventh evening of his sentence, Steph descended the steps to his basement with a red wine dilation in her pupils and a wicked grin on her lips.

“Get on your knees you stupid dope!” She spat and watched him struggle. The heels of the Mary-Janes made it awkward to get down and the best Michael could manage was a crouch with his gloved hands on his stockinged knees. Steph rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You can't even do that, can you? It is no wonder my sister doesn't want to marry you. At least she saw sense eventually...” Michael gave Steph a meek sidelong look from his crouched position. She stood with her hands on her hips, her dark hair tied into a tight bun over an even tighter scowl, and a figure-hugging pencil skirt wrapped around her long legs. Without warning, she too crouched, and without giving Michael even a glimpse of what was beneath, she reached up under her skirt and worked her underwear down her legs. She lifted first one patent leather heel and then the other to remove the black satin thong and then kicked it over to Michael.

“Ah...” Michael sighed with resignation and began to lift his cotton dress to remove his own larger frilled panties to complete the trade.

“No, you idiot!” Steph shook her head with exasperation. “They aren't to wear. They are your reward for being a good little sissy. I want you to sniff them. Breathe in your mistress!” Michael hesitated, his cheeks glowing bright pink before finally he retrieved them and brought the used panties to his nose. He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Good!” Steph sneered. “Now put them in your mouth!”

Michael obliged. They tasted sweaty and stale and he was forced to breathe through his nose. Once more, shame consumed him as he gazed back at Steph, who was smiling back triumphantly. A minute passed and then she strode across the room to where he was still crouched. Turning on her heels, she bent forward and clasped the zipper at the back of her pencil skirt, pulling it up to reveal her bare backside. Before he could react, she grasped the back of his wig laden head and thrust his face between her ass-cheeks, ripping a long squeaky fart that he was helpless to inhale due to the thong stuffed into his mouth.

“Michael!” He heard the surprised voice of Sara from the direction of the basement stairs. He could see nothing but Steph's crack but he knew she had seen everything. “Why didn't you tell me this was what you were into? Things would have been so much easier!”

Rules of Disengagement Part 1

 This is a three part commission I did for DeviantArt

To say Michael's life was entangled with Sara's was an understatement. In the four years they had dated, they had not only got engaged but Michael had given up his rented condo to move in with his fiancee, and they even shared a bank account. So when their steamy relationship eventually blew cold, it was not as simple as moving out and starting over. Michael had nowhere to go.

Sara no longer loved her ex but she wasn't cruel. She allowed Michael to keep living in her basement until he found his own place, but there were conditions. Her sister Steph would be moving in immediately to take over Michael's share of the rent when he eventually left and to act as something of an umpire between the feuding former lovers, albeit one that was obviously biased in favour of one over the other. Steph's name quickly replaced his on the lease, and Michael found himself subletting from two women who held his shelter entirely at their mercy.

Steph made no secret of the fact she hated Michael. This was not a new thing. Right from the inception of his relationship with Sara, she had despised the way he looked down his nose at her as a divorcee. It was as if she was a broken toy, unwanted, a cast-off, and the moment she moved in with Sara, she made haste to settle the score for this and the way he had treated her sister. A week into her residency, she descended the steps to Michael's basement with a garbage bag in her hand.

“Right, listen up you worthless dork.” she scowled, tossing the bag at Michael's feet. “Sara might be a bleeding heart, but I sure as shit am not. You have two choices. You can either gather up all your crap, put it in that bag and leave right now, or you can stay, but what is in that bag there becomes your new identity for as long as you are still in this house.” She watched as Michael picked it up and spilled out its contents. Out fell a blonde wig, a cotton dress, patterned pantyhose, layered panties and a pair of platform Mary-Janes, and open fell Michael's mouth. Steph watched him try to process what she had just said then added. “If you don't choose one of these, I tell Sara you tried to grope me and she throws your ass out anyway!”

Michael didn't really have two choices. Having nowhere else to go and no access to his own money, his only option was to become Steph's plaything and she knew it. Over the next few hours she took her time transforming him, first ordering him to pull on the pantyhose and the underwear followed my the dress and shoes. Steph reserved the honour of placing the wig on his head for herself, thereby completing his new look. Michael caught his reflection in his floor to ceiling mirror and humiliation immediately washed over him. He looked ridiculous.

“Good,” Steph nodded, “now put your old clothes in the bag. This is what you will wear from now on. We'll start your training tomorrow!” With no choice but to comply, Michael began to gather his shirts and put them in the trash bag.

Chick Roulette

 14/25

Louis didn’t even bother putting his dick back in his pants as the scrolling symbol on the screen signalled Mugshot was finding another random member to connect with. The trick was keeping whatever unsuspecting chick it partnered him with online long enough to get a few strokes off. If he was very lucky, they would be the kind of wild slut who already had their tits out. Whoever was the other side of his screen when he finally shot his load, won the jackpot.

Louis was using the roulette function of the popular video chat platform ‘Mugshot’. Users were paired up randomly in a kind of digital speed dating until either party elected to move to the next person. To Louis’s disdain, this was almost always quicker than his exhibitionist tendencies wanted.

The scrolling circle disappeared and a username appeared in the top right of the screen – Delilah101. A gorgeous blonde girl appeared before him and Louis began to jerk off furiously.

“Well, hello there, SlutSlayer69,” she winked flirtatiously. “Aren’t you an eager beaver?” She placed one long pink fingernail between her teeth and Louis braced himself to glaze his keyboard. But, moments before lift-off, the recipient of his lust gestured her hand from right to left, the Mugshot prompt to move to the next connection. However, Delilah didn’t disappear from the screen. Instead, the scroll wheel appeared over the image in the bottom left – the insert that showed Louis’s webcam. When an image returned, it no longer showed him grasping his erect cock, but rather a blonde bimbo bursting with silicone encased in a fishnet bodysuit. “That’s better!” Delilah winked, and then she too disappeared.

“Whoa!! Nice rack!!” The hill-billy on the screen exclaimed and Louis’s mouth dropped open in surprise. The swollen pout of the babe in the corner of the screen also widened and he realised he was no longer gripping his stiff cock. He glanced down at his now flat crotch covered by a flimsy pair of red panties. A belly button piercing winked at him from just above them. Using a shaking manicured hand, he waved to dismiss the red-neck, only for him to be replaced to by an equally leery neck-beard with three chins. Shame washed through him and his hands shot up to cover the quivering jugs on his chest.

When he swiped again, he found himself doing so over and over as each drooling horny guy was replaced by an equally gross alternative. The few female pairings he got snorted and swiped themselves to send him to a new partner. Panic surged within him. He had to find Delilah again. Just when things started to feel hopeless, a DM popped up from the toolbar. “If you want your little friend back, I suggest you give some of these punters what they came for!”.

Louis grunted in self-disgust but when the next man appeared on his screen, he obediently grabbed both of his breasts and massaged them clumsily. And when directed to do so, he slipped one of his long fingernails into his panties and began to softly stroke himself. Any arousal he felt completely dissipated on seeing the guy shoot his load, but he was quickly replaced by another guy and another set of humiliating instructions. Over the next two hours, Louis performed stripteases, simulated blowjobs on a cucumber, rubbed oil on himself and even spread his ass-cheeks wide apart as guy after guy came over the human embodiment of a wet-dream Delilah had turned him into.

“I guess you’ve earned this!” At last Delilah101 returned to his screen. She swiped once more and both the main screen and the webcam insert showed the scrolling logo. Even before the image returned, Louis felt the comforting sensation of his penis in his fist.

“Holy shit! A hot shemale!!” His new partner gasped as Louis stared at his throbbing dick poking out from a hole in the fishnet bodysuit.