The Rebound Part 2

Tony had always considered himself a one-woman man. He had been unendingly loyal to Emma and considered her the love of his life – even at the end when the writing had been on the wall and her wandering eye had sought out new experiences. Tony wasn't sure what he was now but he wasn't one-woman anything. Since that first date, he had been in that room three more times as the team at BabeKraft redesigned and reshaped him again and again to meet the requests of new customers. The robotic arms had punctured his skin, inflating his body where it had once been flat, rounding curves that had once been angular, and moulding new prosthetic parts to his face...his hips...his chest...his groin. Tony had protested, of course, screaming and yelling over and over, “This isn't permanent, is it?” as the room's engineers watched from a viewing window while the robot arms sculpted him.

The behavioural changes were even worse. He wasn't sure how it worked. Some kind of hypnotic conditioning made more effective by drugs injected into him in the room, perhaps, but he sure as hell felt the effects of them. The first time hadn't been too bad – he had just felt really timid and blushed a lot, but the second date had turned him into some kind of queen bitch – rendering him helpless to stop yelling insults at the guy and smacking him across the ass. Tony would have felt sorry for the man if he didn't know it was exactly what he had ordered. Still, at least he had managed to avoid having sex with any of them yet.

On the fifth date, that was all about to change. Tony leaned weakly on the partition between the two rooms of the BDSM club. The place was as grand as a mansion with crystal chandeliers though everything had been dressed with black latex and vinyl. BabeKraft had made him into a buxom raven-haired beauty covered in tattoos. The 'is this permanent' alarm bells had rang extra shrilly as the robot arms scoured his body with needles. He had wanted to fight back and run for his life - at least he had until the conditioning started to take hold. He felt his resistance melting away as wilful submission washed through his new body.

“You look exactly like my bitch ex-girlfriend,” his date had declared cruelly as he fixed the leash around Tony's throat. “She never let me do anything like this though.” The man coolly appraised Tony trussed up in leather straps. The irony was not lost on Tony. He had signed up to BabeKraft to recreate Emma, and some woman, or at least he had assumed a woman, had been rebuilt to his desire, and now here he was transformed into another man's mean-spirited revenge fantasy about to be dragged into a sex club. To top it all off, his body was telling him he wanted it. Every tug of the leash, every slap across the ass made him horny in a way he had never felt as a man. “I'm going to fuck you in the middle of that room!” His date pointed at a huge double bed covered in couples in various stages of fornication. “And then...” he squeezed Tony's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, pushing his plumped up lips into an exaggerated pout, “I'm going to watch as everyone else here has a turn!”

 

The Rebound Part 1

 

Tony stood rigid in front of the glass balcony wall that overlooked the luxury resort below. He was trying to appear relaxed, as if he were casually admiring the view of lagoons and palm trees, but inside his heart was jackhammering as he held one wary eye over his shoulder at the bustling bar, trying to spot his date. Casual? Ha, that was a joke! Looking like this? There was nothing casual about the shimmering white dress that hugged his artificially rendered curves, nor the cosmetically enhanced face his wore masking its own features. And yet, that was only one part of his predicament. The stiletto heels he stood in...the synthetic bleach blonde locks fused into his scalp...even his painfully cinched waist...they were just the props. The true dilemma was the role he was being forced to play.

Emma had broken up with Tony three weeks earlier. It was not an unexpected end to their relationship, yet Tony had taken it incredibly badly. Emma had wanted to date other people and so that was that. Tony's friends had insisted he date other people too. However, Tony didn't want to date other people. He wanted Emma. He had scoured dating apps for women with even half the appeal she had for him and found nothing. He had been about to give up when he came across a new app – one that claimed to be different from the rest and give guys exactly what they wanted – BabeKraft.

BabeKraft promised each of its members their perfect girl. Not by chance mind you – there was no wishing upon a lucky star for the woman of your dreams. On the contrary, BabeKraft invited its members to use its design features to customise exactly what they were looking for in a kind of online studio. They could choose an appearance down to the most minute detail and even request specific behaviours. Tony, of course, signed up and spent hours trying to recreate Emma. Only, when he was finally happy with his efforts and set up the date, the woman that met him just wasn't quite right. Sure, she looked like Emma, and even acted a bit like Emma...but she wasn't Emma. So, Tony tried again...and again...and again... When, at the end of the week, his bill came, he realised in horror that he had spent over seven thousand dollars on the app trying to recreate his ex-girlfriend.

BabeKraft hadn't taken his inability to pay his debts lightly, but they had invited him to their offices to discuss a compromise. The compromise in question had been to work for them. Tony only realised in what capacity once it was far too late. With a contract signed, he had been taken to room full of screens and odd looking medical devices with robotic arms. The walk-in-closet from hell had held him in place as it reshaped and redressed him into an exact replica of a beautiful young woman displayed on a screen along one wall. Only then did Tony understand how BabeKraft met their members' specifications quite so precisely.

The memory of that room haunted Tony as he waited for his date. He had been crafted into the girl of some guy's dreams by some AI robotic monstrosity and now he was...what? An escort? Repaying his debt with this new body of his... If only this one date would be enough... The team at BabeKraft had explained it would take at least six to repay what he owed...

A Date with Destiny Part 3

Julian's heels clacked on the wooden floor of the outer-office of Destiny Engineering to where the full length mirror hung of the wall. The area was where clients and investors were greeted and would wait before being led in to meet with Marcus and the mirror was the frequent recipient of practice pitches and tie-straightening...and now where Julian checked and reapplied his makeup fifteen times a day. He hated the mirror. It was a constant reminder of how he had fallen. Yet, even though he could see his reflection in it from his seat behind the mahogany desk it the reception office, it never ceased to draw him closer like a moth to a flame.

Julian stared into the mirror disbelievingly as he always did, and, as always, a prisoner stared back. His work wear was more professional and less revealing than what he had chosen for his first date with Marcus, but humiliating all the same. A stiff pencil skirt hugged his hips revealing just a hint of a pantyline and the fitted blouse was so uncanny in its similarity to the pressed white shirts he was used to that in its own way it was more feminising that the seamed stockings that encased his legs. As he stood there, the familiar doubt crept in. Could he really continue to pass as a woman? Surely, by parading himself publicly like this, he was asking to get caught and be carted off to jail... Using both hands, he pulled his long blonde into a bun above his head, revealing the shape of his face and the full extent of how the hormones had altered his appearance. He shuddered. This wasn't second thoughts – that had happened immediately after he had told Elena about Marcus's offer. That had been when she had laid out in detail the consequences of what would happen if he didn't take the job. No, his regret could be comfortably counted in the triple figures by now.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A gruff voice with a whiff of an accent sounded behind him. He whirled around to see a small academic-looking man standing in front of his desk. “Is this you?” The man pointed at the nameplate. 'JULIA'. “I'm here for my 10 o'clock with Mr. Grant. He should be expecting me.”

“Ah, Michael!” Marcus entered the room from his private office before Julian could react. “I see you've met Julia, my latest secretary!” The million dollar grin was back as the CEO of Destiny Engineering held out a hand. Julian forced a polite smile and a gave a small feminine nod. As ridiculous as it seemed, he felt betrayed by Marcus. Sure, Julian was the one acting, presenting himself to the world as someone who didn't exist. But so was Marcus – on their date he had felt like he was being hired because Marcus looked at him and saw...something. And now, the walls were back up, and he felt used. “Believe it or not,” Marcus winked at him before turning to their guest. “Julia was actually my Valentine's date...and now she's the eye candy for my company. I guess Destiny really is the right name for it!”  

 

A Date with Destiny Part 2

 

“Hey, I could have sworn I reserved a table... But, a girl who sits at the bar is a girl after my own heart!” A shiver shot up Julian's spine. In twenty minutes of sitting on the stool, his long nylon clad legs folded one over the other, he had kept his head down pretending to read the menu. No-one had spoken to him...no-one had even looked at him, as far as he knew... And now his date was here. Staring at him. Talking to him. Julian felt the little black dress squeeze him, His makeup suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. He gulped softly and his glossy pink bottom lip dropped open. “I am Marcus!” The man grinned. He was slim and expensively dressed and held out a hand for Julian to shake. However, when he reached out to accept the greeting, the man smoothly slid him into a tight hug before kissing Julian on the cheek. “Let me get you a drink!” His date demanded, one hand still resting on Julian's bare back.

“Erm... maybe some wine,” Julian replied softly and shrugged Marcus off. If the man noticed, he didn't show it and his beaming smile remained in place. “Red...please...” He watched the man snap his fingers at the barmaid and produce an American Express card in the other hand. It was clear he wanted Julian to see it and he got a flash of deja-vu. It was exactly the kind of trick Julian himself would have used to impress a woman in a bar...back when he wasn't yet a woman.

“But, of course,” Marcus winked and ordered an expensive bottle with two glasses. After instructing a waiter to bring it to a table in the restaurant window, he held out Julian's chair for him sit and once again draped a hand across his exposed shoulders for just a little too long. “I usually hate Valentine's Day, you know? I think its corny crap. But this one... I don't know... I have a good feeling about it... I have a good feeling about you.” Julian's skins crawled but he felt himself blush all the same. Was this guy really so smitten with him? Or had he just played the game so many times it was like a reflex, regardless of what the girl looked like. Marcus placed his iPhone and a Porsche keyfob down on the table and proceeded to ask him question after question about himself...or rather about Julia, interjecting with factoids here and there that were clearly designed to impress. Julian attempted to act demurely and stick to half-truths – he was living with his sister, he really needed a job but was not sure what he was looking for, he was single...why did he say that...? Marcus, it turned out, was also single, and the CEO and founder of a tech startup called Destiny Engineering. Julian was surprised to find that the more Marcus spoke, the more the slick facade he had put up seemed to slip away. He stopped trying to impress and stared at Julian intently as he spoke about needing a job to pay for his share of Elena's rent. Was this guy really falling for him? He struggled to believe he was actually passing as Julia, let alone melting the game of a rich guy in a bar. “Hey, you should come work for me!” Marcus blurted out suddenly. “Don't worry about an interview, or a resume, or any of that crap. You can work for me personally...be my PA.”

“Work for you?” Julian repeated dumbly. His heart was thudding again, and now he was sweating – perspiration trickling down his back and into the satin of his panties. His head sloshed with the wine and he felt an odd mix of triumph and terror. Elena had made it very clear. It was get a job, or go to jail. But, work for this guy? Who against all the odds seemed to fancy him... What if he tried to pull a move on him? But what choice did he have? “Sure...,” Julian stammered, “when do I start?”

A Date with Destiny Part 1

“Are you really certain all this is necessary?” Julian regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Not just because he already knew the answer, but because of the gentle feminine inflection that shaped them. His soft tone had become warm and natural. The initial soreness from the injections to his vocal chords had faded and all that remained was the singsong chirp of a young woman. Julian hated it with a passion.

“Asked and answered, dear brother,” Elena replied shaking her head. “That's the kind of thing you lawyer types say, isn't it? At least it was before you were disgraced and disbarred.” She took a step back to appraise his outfit. She had insisted he be the one to complete his transformation today. That had included choosing at outfit, dressing himself, and of course all the primping that went with it. She had watched on like a proud mother hen as he had shaved and waxed and spent ninety minutes doing his own makeup. Sure he whined and dragged his heels the whole way, but that only added to her enjoyment, and now that he was almost ready, she could fully appreciate the ways in which the hormone supplements helped him fill out the dress, and how now his hair had fully grown out, he could achieve the look of a glamorous blonde without the need of a wig.

“I mean, why can't I just hide out here? As myself?” God, he hated how alien his voice sounded. He tried to add some coarseness but it just ended up coming out smoky and sexy. “No-one is going to look for me here!” He gestured to himself and realised for the first time how short his dress was. Blushing, he took the hem in his fists and tried to tug it down – only succeeding in forming a prissy pout.

“And then what?” Elena yawned. “You sponge off me forever? You realise you owe me right? Without me you would be in jail. You should be in jail. And you know what else? Your stupid law firm that you embezzled funds from – has my last name on it too. I am training to be a legal aide and you just made me unemployable. Maybe I should hand you in... Remove all doubt I was complicit somehow!”

“Sis...” Julian cooed, suddenly playing his role with a lot more enthusiasm. He smoothed his dress with his palms and flicked his hair behind one shoulder. It crushed him to do so but not as much as the prospect of staring down 46 counts of fraud. “But how can I possibly pay you back looking like this? No-one is going to believe I am a woman. I know you are getting a kick out of the punchline, but you've still turned me into a joke!”

“That's where you are wrong, dear brother,” Elena smiled. “You may not believe this now, but I have turned you into something extraordinary. Today, after all, is Valentine's Day and I have lined you up with a hot date. I am going to show you just how beautiful you are now, and if you can impress a horny guy in a bar, an interview panel isn't going to stand a chance...”

 

Hot House Part 3

 22/25

As the previous years' winner, Chris was secretly invited to be a surprise new housemate who would enter the Hot House six weeks into the new season. Of course, when he agreed and penned the contract to once again hand over his now lucrative social media accounts to the show runners in order to once again enter the house, he did so months before Emi led the now infamous sissy revolution. Within hours of the boys waking up with their cocks in electrified chastity cages, Chris's agent was calling the show attempting to get his inclusion reversed. But what could he do? A deal was a deal and if he wanted to keep his socials, he would need to fulfil his contract.

That's how Chris found himself in the house's welcome pod – an area that resembled a decompression chamber in a submarine. Chris had entered the pod from one side and the door had slid shut behind him. The next time the pod opened, he would be the newest guest on the Hot House.

Being on the outside for the first six-weeks, he knew several things that the other housemates did not. He knew that for the first two weeks the show had been on its knees. Dull guys and girls did not make for compelling television and the viewers were turning off in droves. It was only when Emi put Jared in a maid's uniform she had for some reason brought with her into the house that their was a spike in viewership. And so when Emi came to the interview room that evening and asked for the chastity cages, the producers were falling over themselves to provide. What the viewers also didn't know was that from that moment, the producers were giving Emi whatever Emi requested in the name of driving up ratings. They had already smuggled in numerous sex toys that the girls were just biding their time to put to use – and the house food was now being pumped with hormones to further feminise the unsuspecting boys. Jared had had the right idea when he elected to leave the house after 3 weeks of sissydom. That left one spare chastity cage, and as the door to the house started to slide open he prayed it wouldn't be used on him. Surely a former winner had earned more respect.

A week had passed and Chris could only shudder at his naivety of thinking he might be spared. Satin hugged his body and extensions tugged at his hair and most tellingly the charge of his cage thrummed in his lacy panties alongside a matching buttplug – the most recent introduction from Emi, Hot House's resident dom. The girls has swarmed him the second the door opened – strong hands holding him down as his male clothing was torn to shreds. The other boys had just watched on meekly – if they were sympathetic to his powerlessness they didn't show it. None of the boys spoke now. They were completely broken. They just tottered around the house on their high heels hoping that one of the girls wouldn't grab them to try out a new look or give them a random spanking. They were just waiting and hoping that their followers would fall below the threshold to allow their escape. Chris couldn't bring himself to tell them that their subscribers had soared 500% since Emi's revolution.

Whatever Happened to Martin? (Work Release)

 This will be my last Flashback Friday for a few weeks until i am caught on my commission backlog. It is for Work Release

Good Morning, you're through to UltraReal Bodysuits Customer Care, my name is Felicity. How can I help you today?

Oh, God. I don't believe it. I'm through. I actually did it... All these years of playing the good little employee have actually paid off. It will all be worth it.

Slow down, Speedie, how can I help you today?

Yes, well, my name is Martin, and you probably don't remember me but I am calling from Bedfellows Escorts and I would like to report a gross misuse of your bodysuits.

I am sorry sir, but I can only speak with the named person on that corporate account and that is...

Sam Sparrows! I know! That evil bitch has been keeping us as her whores for years!

Excuse me?

She hired a bunch of your suits to put the guys at our company through supposed sensitivity training, but it was all a ruse!

A ruse?

Yes, there was no training. Not in sensitivity anyway. She turned us into the company's newest escorts. And the bodysuits...oh God...they made us want it!

Ah, yes, the Ladies of the Night range! They are some of our finest...

Don't you think I know? The extra libido alone has made me do things that will never wash off. But no more. Over the past couple of years I have been sucking up to Sam Sparrows and as of yesterday I am her new personal assistant...with full access to the company accounts and records.

I really am sorry sir, but I can only speak with Ms. Sparrows herself.

Would it help if I had the account number? I'm at the bitch's desk right now.

Well, yes...but...

It's 67983538X

Okay...I am pulling it up now...oh wow!

Yes, 'oh wow'. I am sure now you can see the scale of what that perverted bitch has been doing. There are hundreds of us. All humiliating ourselves for her profit. Even now that I am behind a desk again, she still treats me like a slut. You have to release us from the suits and call the police right now!

No, I mean 'oh wow' as in this account is worth 26 million a year. That's one of our biggest. My stock options... This would decimate them...

What?!

Sir, I think this connection is breaking up.

But, I can hear you just fine.

No, it's....def....break...up...bad...tion

Ms? Ms? Felicity, wasn't it? Are you still there? Please help us!!