Forced Feminisation For Dummies

 8/25

“I never thought I could have so much fun with someone's fist up my ass!” the dummy cackled and the audience roared with laughter. They were engrossed by the potty mouthed wooden puppet, his attractive female ventriloquist and her mock embarrassment at every explicit word that came out of her and subsequently his mouth. The reality, however, was far, far different. Well, I guess, the embarrassment was real.

It had all started when Miles, in search of a new hobby, had ventured into Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly. It is hard to say whether Chip, the dummy, caught his eye or the other way around, but the result was the same and Miles was soon on his way to the counter with a new chapter of his life cradled in his arms. He rushed home to try out his new purchase and slipped his hand into the puppet's rear believing that he was about to become its master – in control of its every movement. He couldn't have been more wrong.

It turned out that Chip wasn't too fond of having a male puppeteer and what Chip wanted, Chip got. Miles was helpless as his muscles betrayed him whenever the puppet was in the same room – his brain locked in to a body on autopilot. A painfully self-aware dummy.

It started with crossdressing as Miles was forced by his treasonous body to don minidresses and slap on makeup before every practice, and, oh boy, there were a lot of practices. But Chip quickly grew unsatisfied with watching his master wrenching the strings of eye-watering corsets and slipping in breast forms and Miles soon found himself emptying his savings account for hormonal treatments and breast and ass implants to his relentless organic prison until all that was left of his previous life was his shrunken unattended bald manhood that Chip had left around to taunt his owner.

To rub salt into a gaping wound, Miles began to see his newly softened face everywhere he went – on tv screens, huge billboards and on the front of magazines. Chip, it seemed had talents that extended beyond that of ruining young men's lives and Miles' career as a ventriloquist had taken off. Money was rolling in, even if he was unable to spend it on anything other than beauty treatments and extortionate (and revealing) stage outfits.

Another successful show had ended and Miles was involuntarily packing away Chip into his satin lined box while inwardly cursing that the wooden tyrant had not let him change out of the humiliating corset fishnet combo that had been chosen for his performance. A towering man with a backwards baseball cap and a smirk lumbered over.

“I'm sure I heard you say you have fun with a fist up your ass,” the dudebro grinned and Miles reflexively avoided eye contact by looking down at his puppet. There was a glint in Chip's eye and his jaw fell open evilly. Miles felt his neck muscles contract and turn his head to face the man. He winked and bit a collagen crammed bottom lip.