The Artist

 6/25

First thing's first. I updated the link to my deviantart page on the above menu to my new account. I will also be posting my caps there so if you want to save them or favourite or whatever, you can. I won't be doing much else on Deviantart simply because the vast majority of my caps are still on DA from my now defunct account so I can't crosslink series and tbh I am wary of investing too much time only to be banned again.

Today's caption is a bit of a cheat. I realised I had two characters known as 'the Artist' and so decided to merge them. All the related captions are now listed on my index under the series "The Artist" and I think there are a lot of fun possibilities to be had with this supervillain-esque character.

The Artist's fingers danced across the keyboard as he put the finishing touches on his latest project. A final flourish and a tap of the return key and it was done. “Return”, he smiled at the irony. No, for his subject, there would be no return. He leaned back in his chair, looking over what had once been the bustling staging area of the TicTechToe laboratory – back when he had been a respected architect of foolproof genetic aliases for military spies – back when he had still been Martin.

He looked over at the framed photograph of Bianca Beauchamp on his desk and reminisced for a second about his burgeoning career cut short on that fateful night when he transformed himself into the object of his affection. The years that followed had been hell of course as the tyrannical Ms. Williams had taken full advantage of his oversight of failing to save his own genetic profile and turned him into the company sex toy. When he eventually managed to complete the profile so he could turn himself back, Ms. Williams had spitefully deleted it and turned up his humiliation even further. That was the day Martin had died – or rather his tangible identity ceased to exist. If he couldn't be himself, he sure as hell wasn't going to spend one day longer as a military fuckbot and at the first opportunity he transformed himself into a random spy's genetic profile using the laboratory's technology. Rage had surged through him and going far further than he had ever planned, he deleted the genetic profile of every undercover agent on the system, condemning hundreds of men instantly to a lifetime of genetically perfect tits and pussies. In that moment he felt no guilt for the men that had used him – he felt nothing.

That was the day Martin died, but it was also the day the Artist was born. Following the catastrophe of losing an entire generation of spies, the military instantly cut all ties with TicTechToe and an arrest warrant was put out on Martin. There was just one problem. Martin didn't exist. The laboratory's tech allowed him to be anyone he wanted – and at that time, who he wanted to be was a mysterious investor willing to buy the disgraced company at a fraction of its value.

The Artist rubbed his hands together gleefully as the laboratory pod opened and his creation stepped out. The stunning redhead tottered forward unsteadily in a matching red latex bikini and coat – latex being the only non-organic material capable of surviving the genetic transformation pod. From the glazed look on the girl's face, she was still feeling the effects of the sedative he had administered when he snatched her from the local military base – back when she was still a male cadet. The Artist glanced at his computer screen where his client's specifications were laid out and then back at his creation with satisfaction. Gaining more awareness, the girl's eyes went wide with horror as she realised her fate. Gingerly, she slipped her thumbs into the rubber bikini bottoms, peeked, and let out a high pitched scream.

“Relax, Dear,” the Artist grinned cruelly, “I dare say your new owner will use that thing plenty to make you scream. And as for you...” he swivelled in his chair to where the blonde form of Ms. Williams was handcuffed to the foot of his desk, “don't worry, this is nothing compared to what I have planned for you!”