I, Maidbot Part 1

 

Robbie was used to disappointing his wife, though he seldom did it on purpose – such was the case when he brought home the AutoMaid 3000. It's true that the ultra-realistic female robot was a state-of-the-art piece of kit whose designers promised would revolutionise household chores once and for all, and a fully functional AutoMaid would have done just that for Robbie and Marie's home. At least it would have had Robbie not taken it round to one of his tech friends on the way home from the store to have its operating system wiped out.

Robbie had disappointed Marie one too many times and the marital bed had become dormant. He had considered cheating, but he just didn't have that much game. So, upon seeing a commercial for the super hot AutoMaid 3000 for the first time, he instantly turned to the internet to do some research. Being that it was originally created as a generic multi-purpose robot, it had capabilities far beyond housekeeping and even had fully functioning and realistic breasts and sex-organs. Apparently, the creators had at one point seen the droid as a potential way to sanitise the sex industry, or at least provide companionship to a generation of lonely men.

That's where Robbie's friend came in. By removing the housemaid operating system, he freed up the robot's mind to be loaded with any program he desired. There were entire online communities devoted to sharing apps that taught the AutoMaid to learn all sorts of perverted skills. There was even a plug-in what could sync with the owner and learn all their desires and preferences in a matter of minutes to become the perfect lover. All it needed was an extra bit of black market tech – something that Robbie spared no expense on.

Marie's appraisal of the AutoMaid 3000 was swift and derisive. It couldn't cook. It couldn't clean. It couldn't even load the dishwasher. Robbie was more than happy to take it to the garage and organise a return in the morning. Once out of sight of his wife, he got to work loading all the seedy scripts via a bluetooth connection with his phone. As program after program went into corrupting the maid's brain, he grew excited. He gazed over his new purchase. It really was indistinguishable from a real, and very beautiful, woman. Finally, satisfied he had loaded all the abilities and features he wanted into his new sex-bot, Robbie prepared the plug-in to sync the maid with his preferences. He attached the headset to himself and plugged the other end into the maid before realising with frustration that there wasn't an outlet in the garage. With another stroke of genius, he wired the power source to the garage-door battery and prepared for the sync to start. There was a flash as long white sparks -shot from the battery and then everything went black.

Sometime later, a groggy Robbie was stumbling back to the house. His entire body felt stiff and weird like he had never used it before. He entered through the back door to find his wife standing there. “So you do know where the kitchen is then?” She spoke as if addressed a child. Robbie raised his hands to his head. Why did she sound so loud? He cringed at the intensity in her voice and turned away defensively to where a mirror hung above the dining table. The AutoMaid 3000 stared back – an expression of fear and confusion etched across her face.

Hot House Part 2

 21/25

They came at night, storming the boys' dormitory of Hot House like commandos in the dark, and by the time the five male contestants knew what had happened, it was already too late. Any of the show's millions of viewers who tuned in to watch the early morning programming were treated to confusion slowly and groggily morphing into sheer terror as groans of WTF were quickly replaced by shrieks cascading from bed to bed. Each boy awoke to find themselves completely naked under their covers and upon pealing back their duvets, they stared on in horror at the tiny metal devices that had been attached to their genitals. Padlocked cages squeezed their throbbing cocks, preventing their morning wood while long flat wires wrapped around the rest of their genitalia – tightly secured with a padlock at the backs of their scrotums. One by one, the boys screamed and tugged at the mini-prisons – and one by one they realised the true helplessness of their predicament as small but painful electric shocks shots from the devices into their groins.

Hot House changed dramatically from that morning on – both as a house and as a show. The four remaining girls quickly revealed themselves as the culprits and as the new dominant presence in the house. The boys' pleas fell on deaf ears and the girls moved rapidly to assert their new order. All male clothing had been removed from the house in the same night and each boy was thrown a pair of frilled satin panties as pathetic modesty. It only got worse as the girls bathed and groomed them, removing all their body hair and applying treatments and lotions. Shocks were dealt out liberally to maintain strict compliance and by the end of the second day, each boy was a broken simpering shadow of their former selves – willing to do anything to avoid another jolt in the testicles.

The challenges would change too and it was on day 5 of the new way of things that Robbie and Jay found themselves engaged unwillingly in a staring contest – each of the boys clad in humiliating latex lingerie with a chain attached to a choker around each of their throats holding them in place. Neither could bring themselves to meet the other's eye for it would bear a stark reminder of their own degradation.

“You know this is all Emi, right?” Robbie hissed. “None of those other girls would say boo to a ghost before she got a taste for blood when Jared lost that challenge. I bet she's some kind of freak on OnlyFemmes or something.”

“I think...” Jay stammered, “I think at least this will be over soon. Our followers must be leaving in droves... No-one would want to follow someone who does...this...” He finally raised his gaze to meet Robbie's painted face. “Right!?”

Whatever Happened to Ron? (In Your Dreams)

 The original caption for this Flashback Friday is In Your Dreams

Ron browsed the news website in silence. As for most people these days, there was little in the headlines to make him smile. It was the entertainment stories that interested him. He sighed. His ex was on the front page again – as she had been consistently since leaving him eleven years ago when all her dreams seemed to come true at once and Ron no longer fit into her plans for the future. Her ascent into the public eye had been astronomical – an overnight household name with a modelling contract, sponsorship deals and television cameos, even her dating life post-Ron was splattered across the tabloids – a never-ending string of musicians and sports stars.

Ron clicked into the newest story about her – the latest of a string of recent scandals that had damaged the reputation of the star who seemingly could do know wrong. This time x-rated photos of her had apparently leaked online. Both her and her agent had alleged they were deep-fakes of AI generated slop but the news story included quotes from an apparent digital expert who claimed that the photographs were genuine, or at least they hadn't been doctored in any way. The story ended with threats of a coming lawsuit.

“Some people don't change...” Ron grinned wryly and closed the browser. He spun on his office chair to face the dreamcatcher hanging above his bed. “And some people do...!”

It had taken Ron three weeks to get his body back after the first time he transformed into his ex. So heartbroken was he by her that every time he closed his eyes, she was there, and so every time he opened his eyes again, he was her, right down to her double-Ds and the birthmark just above her pussy. When he had eventually been able to dream of being himself again, he had awoken to his old body and relief had flooded his chest...at least until the rage and betrayal came rushing back.

An online lucid dreaming course had helped him learn to control the transformations, and while he had used the dreamcatcher to achieve a few personal goals, his ex never left his bitter heart...not really anyway. How could she? Every day she was on his television, in the news, on the tip of the public tongue. That's when he realised he could redirect the conversation...

Ron turned on the white noise loop and climbed onto the bed below the dreamcatcher. Closing his eyes, he pictured his ex wrapped in fishnets...a body-stocking, her pert nipples swelling with arousal from between the string. She was wearing heeled ankle boots and tiny panties that left nothing to the imagination. No...that was wrong, Ron thought as his mind drifted into slumber. They hid her birthmark. He smiled as the dreamcatcher started to work his magic. He would have to remove them for the video he was going to make. He couldn't have the public doubting its authenticity...

Life Stream Part 4

 

Avoiding being seduced as a glamorous woman was one thing, but Jonah was still a slave to the body and whims of a babe from a perfume ad. He needed to find a way out. He had managed to keep the rich men largely at arms length all tight but he had been able to read their intentions just fine. He had seen in their eyes what they wanted to do to him – the way they stole glances at his body when they thought he wasn't looking. They were like hungry sharks – ready to whisk him back to a thousand dollar a night hotel room and pound him like a piece of meat that needed tenderising. He shuddered in revulsion in the morning twilight.

The experience had taught him that there were worse outcomes than his girlfriend tormenting him with the TV remote and in a way he guessed he had deserved her teasing. He had destroyed her tape... Pulling the fur jacket tight around his shoulders, Jonah started to walk through town in the direction of home. The buildings around him grew shabbier, the shadows longer, the stares colder, and before he knew it, he was in one of the town's less desirable districts – certainly not somewhere for a glammed up billboard babe dripping with expensive jewellery to find herself. He clutched the purse firmly, feeling the phone inside, and an idea suddenly came to him. He knew exactly how to break the curse. He was a genius.

Like every guy his age he knew with too much time on his hands, Jonah had attempted in the recent past to start his own podcast. It failed, of course, the world just wasn't ready for his movie rankings and sports tips, but the videos were still on YouTube and Twitch. Clacking long nails against the touchscreen, he pulled one up and saw himself – huge headphones atop his head and a cigar in one hand. His body transformed instantly. He had won. He even got to enjoy the cigar in the morning sun as he strolled towards home.

After about an hour, a searing pain had built in the arches of his feet. An entire night of walking in heels had taken its toll and transforming back into his own body had offered little respite. Still, he was free now, and if he had to sit on the curbside to rest, so be it. Now, with a moment to reflect on the past day, he realised how humiliated he felt by the whole thing. He had spent the past twelve hours in panties, being groped...sitting down to pee. The need to reaffirm his masculinity somehow grew inside him. But how? He just had his phone and a nearly spent cigar. Of course, he smirked to himself pulling out his phone and switching to incognito mode. His testosterone spiked as the first video began, and all he could think was thank God he had broken the curse.

At least he thought he had. The woman in the video had been stretching an obscene excuse for a dress around a set of impossible curves as she prepared to satisfy five men with cartoonish urgency, And so, now did Jonah... His breath hitched in his chest as he put one hand on the inside of his leg and began to draw it up his thigh. He had never felt so horny in his entire life. The woman in the video was saying how much she needed her holes filling and he felt every bit of it. Pushing himself up off the curb, he stumbled off in search of someone to scratch his itch...of anyone to scratch his itch...

Life Stream Part 3

 

Jonah didn't get far before the stares started. He wasn't sure if people were recognising Claudette from television or if the sight of a drop-dead gorgeous blonde sprinting down the street in six-inch heels was enough to garner the public's attention. Nevertheless, he found himself enjoying the gazes on him – especially those from guys. One man rolled down the window of his expensive sports-car to wolf-whistle at him and Jonah instantly felt giddy with pride, and, was that...arousal? Realising, this sexual attraction to the sight of a rich older man came from the character he occupied, shame surged in him, but it was a shame that was caged deep within his buxom body. Try as he might, Jonah just couldn't overpower the base urges and characteristics written into the bimbo housewife.

His head was still fuzzy with wine but Jonah still had enough wits to realise he needed a plan. He had a leopard print purse over one shoulder and it contained a cellphone, but this clearly belonged to Claudette as it was covered in hot pink fur and was full of numbers for characters from the show. Groaning with frustration, he started to walk towards town. Mercifully, he found that he could walk effortlessly in the towering heels, gliding down the footpath with a grace that turned yet more heads. At last, the high-rise buildings of the city's center rose above him. Businesses and restaurants flashed their signage in neon in the darkening sky. Once he reached the main square, these were replaced with hi-tech billboards and once more Claudette's instincts took over, and he found himself raising his head to admire the offerings of the luxury brands offering their products. Jonah realised his mistake immediately.

It was a perfume brand – its new fragrance advertised on a thirty foot television screen by a glamorous starlet at a staged red carpet event. Her perfect curves were wrapped in shimmering gold that draped down to her ankles, and she was holding a snow white fur cape around herself. And now, so was Jonah...

The advert starred a young woman who insisted on only the best – the finest, more exquisite things in life. And that's how Jonah spent the night cruising the city's more expensive night-clubs. Not that he had to pay for any of them, of course. Everywhere he went, he found that he could bat his eyelashes or flick his silky golden hair and men in suits would be falling over themselves to open doors for him, or to lift the rope to allow entry to bars that had seconds earlier proclaimed to be full. Colorful drinks were pushed at him and quizzical hands explored his lower back and butt, guiding him onto dancefloors, against tall dark strangers and ultimately into the back of a limo – and his body duly obliged. It told him it liked being treated like a trophy – like an expensive prop that could be fondled and worshipped by men with bulging wallets. Yet, Jonah was thankful that while he felt powerless to the seduction of the wealth and power of the men who courted him, he never felt desire for them. They were as much shiny props to him as he was to them, and so when at last the limo pulled up outside the Hotel Grande at 6am the following morning, he was relieved to be able to offer a dignified wave as the driver let him out, and glide off into the sunrise.

Life Stream Part 2

 

It took Fiona all of ten seconds to get over her shock of seeing her boyfriend transformed into the body of the comic book demon, Raven, and recall her fury at him for having destroyed her treasured copy of Ghost in the Shell with the mysterious not-a-VCR he had found in the attic. Seeing Jonah with bulging breasts squeezed into the shiny leotard was satisfying but not as satisfying as it would be if she could break the cool composed demeanour he seemed to have adopted from Raven along with her body. If he had somehow become a human mirror, both inside and out, of whatever character was on their television, there were surely more vulnerable avatars she could use to avenge her destroyed anime.

Snatching up the Webflix remote, she switched over to a pro-wrestling show. As before, Jonah instantly transformed into the person on the screen – this time it was a fearsome looking female grappler with tattoos and wrestling gear that resembled a bondage outfit. Clearly, the amazon's power and rage also rippled through Jonah and he instantly demanded the remote in an exaggerated aggressive manner as if it were a title belt. Seeing the towering figure striding across the room towards her, Fiona fumbled to select another show. A diminutive drag queen in a shimmering gown tripped over a ridiculous pair of eight-inch pumps at her feet.

“Oh, Darling!” The figure exclaimed dramatically. “Why don't you give me that thing before someone breaks a nail...in someone else's throat.” Jonah blinked and felt heavy fake lashes swish down to his cheeks. He didn't know why he just said that – he just did. It wasn't his voice or even his words. He felt the emotion...the anger...the fear, but when he released it, that's how it came out through the drag queen's catty filter. Just as with the woman wrestler body – he knew what he wanted...the remote, but the body had its own 'way'...its own language and he was nearly helpless to control it.

Fiona used his fall as a opportunity to choose another show. This time it was an old sitcom Jonah recognised from a few years back – 'Playing House'. The bimbo housewife character was on the screen, the one they killed off after the first season with a giant wedding cake – Claudette – and so, that was who Jonah found himself as now. He was encased in her signature style, a tight leathery pair of high-cut leggings and fuck-me heels. He had drooled over her countless times in those outfits, and now he was her. Whimsical sexual thoughts filled his mind along with a fugue that could only come from midday red wine. He breathed deeply and heaving breasts rose and fell on his chest. Even Fiona was spellbound by them and for a moment they just stared at each other. He pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter to get his weight off the uncomfortable heels with a squeak of leather on polished wood. On the television, his counterpart was ditzily preparing dinner whilst spilling out of her top to the pleasure of the studio audience. The blonde on screen took another slug of wine and the haze in Jonah's head grew. 'I am a slave to that thing', he realised. 'I need to get away from it before Fiona goes too far!' Sliding back down onto the pumps, he balanced himself, took one final look at his girlfriend, and broke for the front door...

Life Stream Part 1

 

“What in the actual hell, Jonah!?” Fiona gaped open-mouthed from her boyfriend to the smoking mess on their living room floor. A plastic and metal box sat wired to their television – a green chemical mist streaming from an opening on the one side. “Wait! Is that my original Ghost in the Shell tape?” She cried noticing a familiar yet empty VHS box next to the device. “Jonah, I swear to God! That tape better not be in whatever that things is. I can't get another copy of that!”

“Relax, Fi...” Jonah shook his head dismissively. “It's fine...just a bit of smoke. I found this thing in the attic and was just checking if it still worked. I'm the one who got electrocuted hooking it up. Your tape is safe!” A cluster of orange flames shot from the opening in the device. “Well... would you look at that...” He gazed sheepishly at his furious girlfriend.

Once the smouldering machine had been safely disposed of, the couple launched into a furious argument – Fiona adamant that Jonah had destroyed an irreplaceable artefact, and her boyfriend determined to protest it was an innocent mistake.

“Look, Fi! I don't see why it's such a big deal. It was just one tape and nobody watches VHS any more anyway. WebFlix is full of that Anime stuff you like!” He scooped up the remote from the sofa and used it to select the first animated show he saw on the menu to prove his point. Even as the opening credits began to roll, Jonah's body was overwhelmed by an odd sensation. The ceiling above him seemed to get higher and his clothing shrunk into him like a deflating balloon – the material morphing into a shiny alien fabric that squeezed his middle uncomfortably. His eyes went wide as huge breasts stretched the material and yet a calming monologue played in his head. 'Contain it. Do not unravel. This shame will pass.' Around him, the room appeared to dim...not just the room...the world! Even the birds outside seemed to be chirping in a minor key. Fiona stared at him, open-mouthed. “This is sub-optimal,” he muttered wrapping the cape that just materialised onn his back around him. “That machine is a herald of suffering.” He sighed thinking of what he had thought was a VHS player.

“Jonah?” Fiona exclaimed in a blend of shock and wonder. “Is that still you in there? You look just like Raven... You're acting just like Raven...” She looked him up and down, starting at his thigh-high boots right up to his newly purple hair. “You're also kind of hot!”

“You're very observant,” Jonah felt the words flow from him like a reflex. His voice was cold and monotone but distinctly feminine. His heart was pounding in panic but something was driving him to repress it. “This complicates things,” he nodded down to his new form, and then to the garbage can that not contained the device. “That's not a VCR,” he said bluntly, “it's a transformation device. It may play tapes, but that is just a secondary function.”