What If...Femnonymous Ran Society?

 It's been five years since my last Femnonymous cap. Time for a comeback?

Ada looked up from her desk at her next parolee waiting on a foldable chair near the entrance to her office. Predictably, he was fidgeting with the chain that ran from the leather harness around his waist to the six inch heels on his feet, simultaneously locking both outfit and footwear securely in place. The parole officer rolled her eyes. It was the heels, she knew, it always was. In spite of everything these men had been subjected to since the new Femnonymous government had instituted Ammendment F, it was the shoes that drove them over the edge. It was as though if they could somehow remove them, the rest of their ordeal could somehow be reversed.

“Next,” Ada coughed and opened the file on her desk, watching her subject as he rose unsteadily and shuffled over. Standing removed the slack from the chain connecting his ankles and he had little choice but to half-hobble half-wiggle his new body over to her. “Please sit,” she beckoned and smiled thinly as he failed to meet her gaze. “It says here that as Gary Pines, you were convicted of gross disturbance of physical and phycological female dignity and sentenced in Houston, Texas under federal jurisdiction of Amendment F for immediate rehabilitation. Your identity has been reassigned to that of one equivalent to the victim...your victim, and you have been subsequently referred to me, your state parole officer, for monitoring of your progress. Correct so far?” The man formerly known as Gary gave a tiny nod, just enough to send his newly grown out hair cascading over his hormone softened cheeks. “There's just a few administrative details to iron out before we discuss the conditions of your parole. According to my file, before your reassignment, you had a four and half inch penis,” she paused to smirk at the blushing prisoner. “What is missing however, is the new length post-transformation...” She held her pen ready but the man muttered something inaudible. “I didn't catch that...”

“They took it all!” Gary raised his head in wild yell, his frantic eyes bulging beneath false eyelashes. “The bastards took the whole thing! Give me fake tits and pumping me full of all this shit wasn't enough for them. Was it?! They had to take my dick!” His pink lips trembled with rage.

“Ah! That would explain it!” Ada spoke delicately. “Well, if it's any consolation, the dosage of hormones you are currently on would have rendered it almost useless anyway. Not to mention tiny. Well, tinier...” It didn't seem to be much of a consolation.

“This is bullshit!” Gary was crying and panting. “One grope. Just one grope! It was nothing! Just a squeeze of the ass, and what... I get all this...” he gestured at his new body. “How is that fair?”

“Well...” Ada sighed like she had heard the rant a thousand times. “That is just how things are now. Zero tolerance. It may have just been a grope to you, but that grope could have ruined a life.” She looked at her parolee sternly. “It's a new world out there. And those who don't adapt will be adapted to fit it.”

What if...the Artist Revived the Network?

 What if Wednesday again and this time we have a story that combines my Artist and Network series. This cap is not canon to either but both are fully listed on my index page. Hope you enjoy...

zoli

“Hello and welcome to another edition of 'Parting Gift' – the gameshow that makes sure couples walk away from their ending relationship with so much more than a broken heart!” The Artist was revelling in the applause from the studio audience. Back when he was simply Martin...back before he had invented the genetic rewriting device that would change his life and those of so many others, this would have been his worst nightmare, but now in his new life as owner and host of the Network and all its shows he was living the dream. Of course it helped that he had used his invention to transform himself back into the Bianca Beauchamp doppelganger that had got him in so much trouble in the first place, but he was so glad he had decided to abandon his plots of revenge and put his money and skills into something else – like reviving the corpse of a cult television network specialising in transformation based gameshows.

As the show progressed Martin took delight in strutting around in his voluptuous latex clad body for the approval of the audience while the latest contestants answered questions to increase their prize fund. The rules were simple – a newly broken up and often quite vindictive couple completed a series of challenges in order to accumulate money for their kitty. The better the pair were able to work together, the more cash they would earn by the end of the show. This is when things would get interesting. Whichever new singleton earned the most for the prize fund would be given freedom to take as much of it home as they wanted. However, their former partner could then choose whether they wanted to take the rest...or send their ex for a trip in the Artist's genetic rewriting device.

Martin took great pride in a show that changed lives – literally. He could hardly contain himself at how the latest episode was progressing and he wondered if the crowd could tell the rubber-clothed host was becoming aroused before their eyes. Tony may have been two timing his wife but today he was answering questions and completing tasks with laser focus and the recent divorcees had made almost $100k. Having vetted the contestants personally, the Artist new exactly how much they were hoping to win and what how wanted to spend it and so when Tony surged ahead of Kate in the personal scores there was only one way it was going to end. The humiliated ex-wife was never going to take $5k over the chance to get the ultimate vengeance over her unfaithful spouse.

The prize reveals were always his favorite part of the show. The audience got to see how both contestants had spent their winnings simultaneously and today was set to be spectacular. There was a hush of excitement as the big screen cut to where Tony, fresh out of the transformation pod was awarded his prize. The crowd gasped as his latex clad knees went weak though not from the presence of the Dodge Viper in front of him and silently Martin gave kudos to Kate for matching her ex's hair with the paint job. There were giggles as everyone watched the 'winner' totter around in his new body, hands examining every gleaming curve with disbelief as the car went ignored. The Artist smiled – it would need to be sold to pay for the divorce anyway and there was only one way a bimbo like that was going to make a living. Before long, both contestant and prize would be being ridden by other men. Yes...this was so much better that revenge...

What if...Aiko was the Mannequeen?

So, no Flashback Friday, but what about a What If Wednesday? If Marvel can do it so can I...I think - not totally sure on the copyright... Anyway, hope you like and obviously this isn't canon...

zoli

“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head! Rise and shine!!”

Andy blinked awake and his eyes darted to the tiny Asian girl sitting across the room behind what looked like an elaborate tea party complete with brightly coloured cupcakes and other sweet treats. Confused, he sat up and became instantly aware of the extra weight jiggling on his chest. A pair of large round breasts bounced inside a frilly aproned dress and parted two thick braids of hair that seemed to be hanging from his head. His lips opened in horror and he rose from his seat, almost tripping on the heels housing his stockinged feet.

“What the hell have you done to me?” He fought to repress a scream. Even still, the curves of his new body quivered with fear and rage and the hem of his short skirt rocked on his ample hips as he tried to balance. With every movement of his soft feminine skin, an electricity rippled through him – an itch, a craving...a need!! The girl in front of him remained demurely silent and and memories flashed through his head. Just fractures – meeting a girl on the subway, her saying she was from Japan, offering him a donut, then...nothing... But that donut, those flavors...out of this world. In his jumbled thoughts one thing became clear. That donut was the source of the fiery urges racing through this alien body he found himself occupying.

“Calm down, Sugar!” The girl adjusted her pleated skirt and smiled sweetly. “I haven't done anything to you. It is just a bodysuit. Though a totally adorable one if I do say so myself. I can absolutely remove it for you...” She watched Andy's heaving chest slow with relief, “...as long as you don't make me mad.” She wrinkled her nose in mock anger as Andy's eyes went wide. “That donut I gave you on the subway didn't just contain some pretty potent sleep serum but it was also topped with sprinkles of my delicious and completely irresistible candy.” She stopped to watch the boy's knees knocking together giddily – the bows on the garters shaking in unison. “I see you can already feel HOW irresistible. But...” she waved her finger as if she was addressing a small child, “you're going to have to be a big girl and control yourself. Every treat in this room contains those same sprinkles but this is for my tea party and so you absolutely mustn't touch. Otherwise, I will be very upset. And if you make me upset, I will activate the lock and the bodysuit will stick to your skin forever. You'll be a good little girl for Aiko, right?”

Andy stared in disbelief at the girl smiling maniacally at him and then around the room and all the confectionery it housed. His whole body was trembling and raging with desire. His hypersensitive skin could feel every stitch of the panties squeezing his ass even through the bodysuit and he struggled to arrange his thoughts coherently. He was rapidly becoming a slobbering needful mess and the girl in front of him was quietly enjoying the whole prissy show. He needed to scratch the itch and the world felt dreamlike as he picked up a tray of donuts and held one up to his face. The hole framed his captor looking back with glee, knowing Andy was helpless but to push it into his cute little mouth...

Harbinger

 25/25

This is from my Mannequeen series. The rest of the captions are listed in my index page.

I hope you enjoyed this set. I need a bit of a break as I am really burned out and some time to figure out how I am going to present my stories going forward. I hope to continue with Flashback Fridays in the meantime but I am away for most of next week so they might not start until the Friday after. I have about five or six captions ready for the next batch but as I mentioned before I may start posting my longer stories as and when they are ready and leave the seasons for standalones.

I really want to do a longer Aiko story soon and I think the Mannequeen vs Lara Lake story needs wrapping up. I also want to write about the Pink n Prissy Collective's revenge plot on Kirsten, continue building on the Emporium of Fun and Folly and the Bimbo Note, and possibly bring back some old friends...

 First things first, I need a rest...

zoli

“This has got the Mannequeen written all over it,” the young police officer greeted Detective Lara Lake as she entered the crime scene. “We were called to an apparent disturbance and found this one being pummelled...and I mean pummelled...” he paused to make some crude gestures with his fingers and thumbs, “...by five guys.” He nodded to the busty figure knelt by the fireplace with long dark hair dressed in nothing but a slingshot bikini. “She...he says his name is Tino – some kind of mafia big shot. The other guys being questioned in the other room by my partner are supposedly his associates...but who know... You, okay Detective?”

Lara Lake was far from okay. The expensively furnished room spun around her and the walls seemed to be closing in just as the ones in her life were. The Mannequeen had kidnapped her brother and fiance and turned them into permanent buxom bodysuited imitations of their former selves and she knew it was just a matter of time before she was at one of these crimescenes in an entirely different role.

“Hey,” the policeman shouted and Lara nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked up and realising he was talking to the bimbo in the corner, who had started to make a curious soft whining sound. Lara looked into her eyes and saw raw desperation – an ungodly blend of fear and lust. She gulped as if seeing a sneak preview of her own future. “I said stop it!” The cop barked again. “One more peep and I will throw you back in with your friends and we'll see what noises you make then...”

“Tape recorder?” Lara croaked from a dry throat.

“Here,” the policeman held out a small black device, “we haven't listened to it yet...he looked into her eyes, “it was addressed to you.” Lara went cold. She thanked the office before shuffling out of the room and pressing 'play'.

“Hello Lara. Welcome to my game. I hope you like my latest pawn. Tino was a bad man and I am sure he'll make an even badder girl. You'll note that I broke my golden rule. I didn't give him a chance of salvation. I wanted you to understand what awaits you. Don't worry, he more than deserved it. Just like you deserve what's coming to you. Tino's bodysuit is calibrated so that he will never have enough pleasure regardless of how much he puts his new body about – an insatiability I'm sure his family business will turn into great profit. He has no way out of his horny prison. Just as you have no way out. See you soon Detective...”

“Detective?!” Lara dropped the tape player in fright. It was just the cop checking on her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” she tried to compose herself, “it's just a prank.” She pointed at the mobster-cum-bimbo, “release him...errr....her. If she wants to get her brains fucked out, that's no business of ours. We've got bigger fish to fry...”

The Girls

 24/25

Eric pushed himself off the tall metal stool and looked around nervously at the rest of the support group. They were all there for same purpose as he was – to heal, but their eyes bore into him all the same. They had all been wronged, cheated out of their regular lives and their voices ignored by society for the supposed 'Greater Good' just as he had. He had listened to their stories and now finally it was his turn to speak about the injustice that had befallen him. Placing his manicured hands on the tops of his thigh-high boots, he cast his gaze amongst them avoiding direct eye contact, and began...

“Hi everyone. My name is Eric Baker...but I guess I just go by Baker now. Obviously I don't look much like an Eric any more... Like all of you, my life was changed forever by the actions of the so-called 'Protectors' in what they say is their line of duty. Like you, I am supposed 'collateral damage' in the 'eternal struggle with evil.” He finally looked up and saw countless faces nodding in agreement. Some were scarred, others belonged to visibly injured people and many like his, were simply worn by people to whom they did not belong.

“Hello, Baker,” the group murmured in unison.

“I used to be a security guard. I was bulky and strong. I guess that's why I was chosen,” Baker looked forlorn down at his slender new existence. “The Super known as 'the Leaper' was in pursuit of a criminal outside the club I was working and she must have decided I was a good fit for the chase as before I knew it, she had commandeered by body and I was switched into the one she had previously been possessing. This one.” He gave the group a moment to look over the figure his mind now captained. In the week since the switch he had got used to the stares. At least the support group would be sympathetic. “It belonged to a girl that danced in the club I worked at. Sandy. Her mind is now stuck in a businessman from Hong Kong.”

“It's true.” The group whirled around to see a small Asian gentleman sobbing at the back of the room.

“Of course, I have tried to get through to the Protectors and their representatives,” Baker continued, “but I am sure all of you know how it goes. I was redirected through countless corporate departments and when I finally did get someone to listen to me, I was told I couldn't prove anything and threatened with legal action or 'worse' if I didn't keep my mouth shut. I was told if I even implied that the Leaper or any other of the Protectors supers had harmed me in any way, I would be made very miserable indeed.” He took a moment to survey the downcast eyes around him and knew that the rest of the group had suffered almost identical experiences. “But I'm already miserable. I kept working at the club. What else was I supposed to do? I have rent to pay and Lord knows I've watched those girls dance enough times to know how to move. I am trying to stay positive. The female orgasm is a thing to marvel,” he cracked in a half-hearted attempt to raise the mood. “But every time I grind on that pole or pull on one of these slutty outfits, I die a little more inside. Hell, I've even got bored of watching my tits bounce in the mirror.” He brushed his long dark hair from his face and sighed. “I may be stuck as a hot little stripper forever..but someday...somehow, those Supers are going to pay for what they've done.”

Liza's Second Lesson (an Aiko story)

 23/25

The rest of my Aiko series is on my index page

“Lesson number two,” Aiko took a big bite of the cotton candy she had bought on the way home from the park. “You must reset your subject's instincts. My candy is only enough to make boys play out a role. It can't recalibrate their natural behaviour. You have to do that yourself. See what I mean?”

Liza grunted with frustration. It was tough to teach anyone their natural place when she felt so far out of her own. The tight black latex leotard that Aiko had pulled from her suitcase was unlike anything she had ever worn in her life, enveloping her body and creaking with every movement. In contrast, Robin in his soft velvet leotard and red wig loomed over her clumsily.

“You can do it Liza!” Aiko cooed. “A prissified boy is soft and malleable. Look at him, he is terrified.”

Liza met Robin's gaze. Their prey did indeed look scared. He had followed them home in that ridiculous kawaii dress a figure of defeat, knowing that the only way to subdue his rabid cravings for Aiko's candy was to do what they said. His relief when Aiko had told him to remove the dress had been as shortlived as it took him to untangle the leotard and nylons she had then thrust into his hands. He looked truly absurd once the outfit was completed by heels, makeup and a wig. So why was he still able to muster the guile to lead them in the dance Aiko had insisted upon them?

“That's it Liza,” Akio clapped excitedly, “use your eyes!”

Liza looked deeper into the boy's stare and suddenly she saw the last ounce of resolve freeze and then shatter before her. She wrinkled her nose and grinned mischievously, grabbing one of Robin's hands in her own and snaking her other around his hips. His body moved limply in her grasp and she pulled his pelvis forward against her own latex clad body. He slumped forward onto her, off balance on the towering heels and Liza felt a thrill as she realised that without her holding him tightly he would fall to the floor. She pushed her face close to his, held his hand wide and began to lead him in a slow pirouette.

“Bravo, Liza. Bravo!” Aiko applauded. “I knew you could do it.” She watched in awe as Robin was pushed backwards and led in a wide circle. “His instinctive role is now to serve your direction. See how he goes where you want? Where you lead? He is the perfect prissified boy toy who will do and be whatever you want.” Robin visibly shrank deeper inside his own shame on hearing this and Liza gleefully noticed. “Okay,” Aiko stood and cleared her throat, “now that I have taught you how to control boys, I am going to show you which boys are deserving of your control – target selection. Robin can join us. Let's find him a new outfit. We're going sissy hunting!”

Poolside

 22/25

Fernando rounded a row of sunbeds and almost dropped the tray of Mojitos he was carrying in surprise at the spectacle that greeted him at the side of the hotel's main pool. He beckoned over Sonia, a fellow member of the poolside bar staff. She followed his gaze and chuckled.

“I see you've met Mistress Ivanova,” she nodded to the tall blonde woman bursting from her bejewelled bikini. “She arrived Friday. As you can see, she is quite high-maintenance.”

“Quite?” Fernando looked on with sympathy at the figure kneeling before her. He felt hot just watching the sun beat down upon the pink latex. “Did she bring her...erm...maid here with her?”

“Her maid?!” Sonia giggled once more. “That's not her maid. Mistress Ivanova's full time...erm...sissy maid is back in Russia. Apparently he was refused a visa. Of course Mistress Ivanova demanded that the hotel provide one for her for the duration of her stay. But you know how our dear employer is...they aren't going to stump up the cash to hire in a professional sissy maid...if such a thing actually exists...”

“You mean...?” Fernando's voice trailed off as he studied the maid's face. Her face was glistening with perspiration and bits of the blonde wig were clinging to her cosmetic caked face. In spite of this Fernando felt a hint of recognition. “Marco?!”

“Yep!” Sonia confirmed as they watched the hotel guest hook a long fingernail under Marco's chin and smile cruelly. “Supposedly she spotted him during check-in and slipped the hotel manager a fat envelope of cash. The manager made it clear if Marco wanted to keep his job, he should do whatever Mistress Ivanova told him and he took her bags to her room and next time anyone saw him he was like that.”

“Poor Marco,” Fernando cringed. “I guess money talks. How long is she staying? She looks demanding!”

“Two weeks and yes she is. Last night during the evening show Marco was under her table massaging her feet. He feeds her, rubs in her sunscreen and Anna said she saw her spanking him for missing a spot. Rumour is she has her eye on adding another maid to her service for the second week of her stay.”

Fernando shuddered. “Are there any rumours who she wants?”

“Well,” Sonia's eyes sparkled and she nodded at the tray of drinks. “Let's just say I hope you are as good with White Russians as you are with Mojitos...”

Whatever Happened to the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 4

 21/25

The rest of my Pink n Prissy captions are all listed on my index page

“It was at that exact moment that Stephanie realised we had set her up. It clicked who Kirsten was and her eyes went wide with horror as everything that had happened to Grace must have been flashing through her head along with whatever might have been about to happen to her. She just gaped at us, knowing we weren't going to come to her rescue, and something visibly broke inside her,” Josie paused for dramatic effect, her eyes locked with Sam's over the campfire.

“That moment was perfect,” Charlotte chimed in. “You could tell she knew she was toast. I enjoyed it almost as much as what came next. She just kind of mentally crumpled. I mean, Kirsten is one scary bitch, but knowing we were throwing her under the bus must have made her feel so helpless. Kirsten told her to strip and she just kind of did it.”

“Stephanie was a hardcore tomboy like me,” Terri continued, “so I get how humiliating it must have been for her to become someone's private Barbie. But when Kirsten pulled out those hideous leggings that make your body look like it was made of liquid metal she seemed almost relieved – like she was expecting a dress or something. It was like she forgot about the massive dildo strapped to Kirsten's waist was a second.”

“It was the heels that were the killer,” Cassie took over. “Obviously, Steph had no experience in shoes like that but they were so high she couldn't even stand. She kind of just toppled forward and put both of her hands on the dresser with her ass sticking in the air like a giant shiny bubblegum.”

“Brent must have got the thrill of his life when Kirsten told him to expose her butt,” Josie snorted. “He was still in that stupid nurse's outfit and shaking like a leaf as he peeled that shiny material slowly over her ass like it was a banana. Stephanie was trying to look back over her shoulder but she was struggling to balance. She saw us sat against the wall and I winked at her.”

“Yeah, Kirsten really thought we were a captive audience,” Charlotte said. “But I was enjoying every moment of it. Kirsten started rubbing Steph's pussy, gently at first then harder and harder, slipping one finger in, then another and another. By the time Kirsten started fucking her with the dildo, Steph was sopping wet.”

“Kirsten moved her to lean on a stool,” Cassie explained, “so Steph had to look right at us while she was getting pounded. With every thrust she made these little squeals like a horny mouse. I can still hear that sound when I close my eyes. After about ten minutes, Steph came hard and Kirsten took the strapon out and looked us dead in the eye. She was actually stroking the dildo as she said if any of us feminised another boy and she found out, we would be next. Then she grabbed Steph by the hair.”

“And that's why the Pink n Prissy Collective has been inactive for four years,” Josie sighed. “None of us want to risk it after hearing that awful howl as Kirsten jammed that giant cock in Stephanie's asshole. At least not until now. With your help, Sam, we're going to take Kirsten down once and for all.”

The Poligomyst

 20/25

This is the latest in my 'The Artist' storyline. The rest of the parts are on my index page

Martin paused to listen to the crackle of his latex three piece suit as it rippled around the body he had crafted himself. He had worn the vinyl material countless times since adopting the moniker of 'the Artist', it being the only substance other than human DNA that could survive his genetic recoding device after all, but this was the first time he had experienced it in a male body. He smiled. He felt powerful.

Needless to say, the figure before him wasn't enjoying the experience quite so much. Fear was splashed across the face of the raven haired beauty as she pulled at the straps of her rubber dress in obvious confusion. Full fleshy globes bounced and jiggled with every movement until their owner finally seemed satisfied they were indeed part of her body.

“This is the one I presume?” Martin turned his attention to the middle aged woman to his left. She was a tech genius in her own right as well as a self-made billionaire and the quivering bimbo in front of them had once been her serially unfaithful husband.

“Oh that's her alright,” she spat, “I even caught him fucking her on that desk.” She pointed to the bureau behind the voluptuous body of her former spouse before turning back to Martin. Her eyes went wide for not the first time that afternoon. “And you look exactly like him!”

“Well, technically I am him,” The Artist grinned. “And your husband is the pretty young thing he enjoyed sharing his dick with. Ironic...” Martin squeezed the crotch of his adoptive body and nodded at the device gripped in his hand like a large gun. It was a portable version of the genetic recoder he had been using for the military. “With this thing I can be anyone. I can make anyone be anyone – from a billionaire's cheating husband to his air-headed mistress. For the right price anyway...” He heard a gasp escape the busty latex-clad woman as what had happened began to dawn. “I think it's time your husband shared a little more dick, don't you? Care to join me?” He held up the genetic recoder and the tech billionaire smiled evilly. “You will need to strip off. This thing only tolerates latex.

The woman removed her clothing while her bimbofied husband pleaded for forgiveness and with a zap of blue light he was suddenly faced with two identical versions of his former self. “Please...” he cried out. “Whatever she's paying you, I will double it!”

“Double?” Martin smirked at his doppelgänger. “How about triple?” He turned to the naked form of Ms. Williams to his right – her hands tied with latex and a ball gag in her mouth. The blonde woman glared back. “Come now,” the Artist cocked his device, “you can either join us, or..” he glanced at the former husband trying to hide under the desk, “you can join her...” A flash of light later and the big breasted cheater looked up to see three versions of his former self approaching with cocks like drawn swords.

Under the Influence Part 6

 19/25

Forgetting he could now break character, Brody gave a little squeal of excitement. He couldn't believe it worked. He was free. “I GIVE” The words beamed from the IM. “I GIVE” He had won. Throwing on the first piece of clothing he found over the scandalous outfit for the OnlyFemmes stream, plugged his laptop into his workstation. It didn't matter that the clothing was a stupid frilly dress Claire had sent him, it didn't even matter that there wasn't a single shred of male clothing in his home. It was over.

True to her word, his sister's next IM contained all the logins to the social media accounts she had set up for him and Brody set about the long task of deactivating them. He started with Facebook since he guessed that would be the one the most people he knew would be active on. The password worked and his eyes went wide at the extent Claire had gone to in order to paint him an online existence. Countless photos scrolled endlessly down the page – thankfully all of his old life and numerous ongoing conversations with friends and family were open. The more he looked, the more he spotted the 'clues' his sister had warned him about. Follows to Ru Paul and various cosmetics companies. Likes to local beauticians' pages. They were subtle but there. Almost ready to close it all down, Brody clicked on the 'Groups' tab and stopped short.

There were over a dozen of them – groups dedicated to forced feminisation, sissification and mistress/slave relationships. Clicking on the first one, he found it to have tens of thousands of members with profile pictures an equal assortment of scary looking women in black leather and feeble looking men in pink satin. Brody scrolled down and noticed with surprise that the most recent post was made by his account – a simple hyperlink followed by an invitation. A sinking feeling began to form in his stomach. He quickly checked the other groups and sure enough, his account had posted the same link in each and every one. He didn't need to click it to know what it was but he did anyway and instantly felt sick when the screen changed and proved him right.

The OnlyFemmes profile he had set up for Claire sat before him – a blank window from a finished livestream. So that's how he had suddenly grown his following... Desperately, he tried to login but the password had already been changed. A new announcement popped up above the ended video.

“MAKE ME YOUR BITCH!! SISSY SLAVE IN NEED OF A POWERFUL MISTRESS. NO SAFEWORDS. NO MERCY. THE VICTORIOUS DOMME CAN EXPECT A $10K REWARD!”

Brody continued reading and almost fell out of his chair. His full name and address were posted after the message. He grabbed his phone and shot off an sms to Claire. “What are you doing? You just put a bounty on my head to every mistress in the country!!”

The reply was almost instant. “Oh, I wouldn't say the bounty is on your 'head' ;) Besides it looks to me like you took it out on yourself. Btw, I hope you have 10k or you're going to have to deal with some very angry dominas...”

Under the Influence Part 5

 18/25

I've been thinking quite a bit this last week about how I post my captions. I love doing these longer multiple segment stories as well as my regular recurring characters like Aiko and the Mannequeen. They give me a sense of progression from a writing perspective since as much as I love them, a lot of standalones are just unfeminised male to feminised male repeat.

That said, I can tell my series aren't for everyone and they do have a tendency to clog up my 25 caption batches. Also, I kind of feel like spreading the character stuff out like this loses a lot of the continuity and makes them hard for new readers to follow.

I don't mean this in a conceited way I promise, but I really hope people do appreciate the effort I put into both the writing and presentation of my stories. Putting together a batch of 25 takes a lot of time and effort and lately I have been feeling really burned out. My mental health has been inconsistent to say the least since last November and to keep captioning a fulfilling part of my life I need to balance what I enjoy writing with what people actually want to see.

What I am thinking of doing is to continue to post in 25 caption batches but to keep these sets mostly for standalones and testing out new potential recurring stuff. On top of this I plan to write special extended stories for my recurring characters that I will post as and when they are ready. For example I really want to write a summer themed Aiko story (Pink Boy Summer) but if I leave it until I have 25 ready, it probably won't get posted until October or so, which seems sad. 

Anyway, sorry if I am rambling. Point is I really like captioning and am trying to ensure I continue to enjoy it and you continue to enjoy reading them. Things might change slightly but I'm gonna stick around. On with the show...

Zoli

Brody looked back over his shoulder and tried to gaze what he hoped was seductively into his webcam. Comments and requests popped up relentlessly from punters enjoying his live feed and it took all his effort not to gag with disgust. He had hooked his laptop up to his flatscreen so he could read the messages from across the room and consequently the writing was not the only thing that was magnified. Soft alabaster skin peeked out from underneath the sexy outfit and his stomach turned at seeing how delicate looking his body had become. The hormones had done that. Early on as the plan had begun forming in his head, Brody had realised he would need some help if he was to look feminine enough to pass as his sister in skimpy clothing. The pills he ordered off the internet were supposed to have been the finishing touch but the end result left him wondering if they had worked a little too well. Still, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could flush them down the toilet.

'PANTIES OFF NAO!!' A particularly adamant message flashed on the screen and was instantly 'liked' by dozens of other watchers. Something gnawed at him. He knew it was a bad idea but it was a way to give his following that extra boost and simultaneously paint Claire as an even bigger slut. Besides, the satin white thong currently parting his asscheeks was barely dental floss anyway.

Winking at the camera, he placed a hand on the old metal chair he had hauled in from the yard as a prop and bent forward. His pill enhanced bubble butt looked extra ripe perched on his six inch heels and keeping his eyes locked on the webcam, Brody carefully slid his hand back to his hip and began to slip his panties down. The one upside, if you can call in that, of the hormone tablets was that his junk had shrunk and recoiled back between his legs giving him a much smaller set of equipment to keep hidden as he gently dragged the satin down his thighs and over his stockings. Finally, when he was fully bent over and his bare backside was sunny side up for the internet to see, he dropped the underwear over his feet and kicked them backwards across the room with one of his heels.

The comment section was going crazy and Brody could even see donations flashing up the screen within the storm of lewd remarks and emojis. Somewhere out there he knew Claire was watching after he had sent her the link to 'her' OnlyFemmes profile. He wondered if she was enjoying seeing him humiliate himself in spite of the audience thinking they were watching her. Hopefully she was squirming at the sight of his rump wriggling in the air for the masses knowing if she didn't relinquish control, he would forward 'her' profile to everyone she knew.

The show was over and his self-worth was completely obliterated but Brody was sure he had debased himself for Claire's pleasure for the last time. With a hand covering his shrunken dick, he clicked off the webcam by remote. The cavalcade of comments dissipated from the screen leaving just a solitary IM from his sister. Relief washed over him as he read it.

“OKAY, I GIVE!! SEND ME THE PASSWORD TO THAT PROFILE AND I WILL DO THE SAME THE SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS I SET UP FOR YOU. JUST PLEASE DON'T SHARE THAT STUFF WITH ANYONE!”

Under the Influence Part 4

 17/25

This is going to be a three part sequel to the three part story from my last season. You can find the original captions here Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Brody had a brand new shovel and its name was payback. It wasn't ideal and it sure was going to involve a fair bit more digging in the hole he found himself trapped in, but it would be worth it in the end. It was his only way to turn the tables and free himself from his sister's mercy while even scoring a little revenge in the process. It was time to take on Claire at her own game.

For two months now Brody had been a prisoner in his own home – held captive not by shackles and locks but by his sister's promise to out him as a crossdressing extraordinaire if he didn't fulfil his role as her puppet Youtube fashion influencer. Things weren't helped by the fact Claire had blackmailed him into sending her all his clothes by mail while she peppered his address with feminine gifts and outfits. At last, his original wardrobe was empty and so if he wanted to go outside, he would have to do so as his feminine alter ego.

But all that was about to change. The one advantage of his ridiculous doll-like new life was that through the coercion of his sister, he had become rather good at looking and acting like a young lady. Throw in his strong family resemblance to Claire and you had all the ingredients needed for a sweet revenge. He just needed to raise the stakes and it was going to require the purchase of some new clothes that were a little less lady-like.

The previously anti-social media Brody had become quite adept at maintaining an online presence and in doing so he had stumbled across a new platform, 'OnlyFemmes'. It was a place where users could share photos and videos of themselves with few restrictions for potential profit. It was something of an online wild west and the trend veered towards the more explicit the content, the more of a following you could garner. Brody wanted plenty of eyes on the profile he had just created and was reluctantly accepting that he would need to get pretty down and dirty to achieve this.

The plan was simple – he would use his likeness to Claire and his newly acquired makeup skills to post suggestive pictures of himself on OnlyFemmes pretending to be his sister. Then, once he had enough watchers, he would use it reverse blackmail his way out of her clutches by threatening to out her as a skank that sold photos of herself to strangers. What could go wrong...right?

Brody stared at the OnlyFemmes profile with frustration. His latest post was on the screen. He shuddered at the memory of pulling on the white silk stockings and snapping them to his garter and his ribs still ached from the excruciatingly tight corset. Somehow wilfully dolling himself up was even worse than being forced to do it by Claire. Picking out an outfit from the online store knowing he was going to be stuffing himself into it was simply soul destroying. Yet all this paled in comparison to the dreadful feeling that it may have been for nothing. Just two measly followers had been attracted to his profile by his latest photoshoot. He groaned realising he was going to have to step things up if he was going to get enough for his plan to work...

Shipshape

 16/25

I hope everyone is enjoying the new captions. Sadly I have been really busy with work lately and am really burned out so the next batch is lagging badly. I only have about four or five finished so far.

zoli

After her boss had acquired the failing firm 'LoanRanger', Alice, the new company lawyer, was put in charge of auditing the company's finances and plugging the leaking liquidity. It became quickly apparent that the travel expense account was being abused and abused badly. Tens of thousands were being spent every month on trips that had no clear purpose and further investigation led everything back to one man, the company's Head of Sales and Investments, Raphael.

Alice hired a private investigator to do some digging and it turned out that Raphael had been taking monthly trips to Vegas and staying in the most expensive hotels on the Strip. To make things worse, he had been using his time to smooze with rich businessmen and take bribes for insider trading tips relating to the recent takeover. Fortunately this is where he made his fatal mistake. To cover his tracks, he hid his profits in bank accounts registered in the company's name and upon finding this, it was very easy for Alice to freeze the assets. The next time Raphael went out to Vegas he was met with an angry lawyer and an ultimatum involving a lot of potential prison time. Needless to say, he returned from the trip a changed man – a very changed man.

“How does it feel to actually be doing your job for a change?”Alice gazed coolly at LoanRanger's Head of Sales and Investments. She stood on the dock and admired the rows of yachts gleaming in the Malibu sun. Raphael glared back at her, his eyes filled with hate and caked with cosmetics. Realising how the pouting probably looked on him, he turned his attention to the jumbo boat he was about to board belonging to the wealthy financier whose investment he was being made to win and found himself wondering if it cost as much as his new butt implants did. They were both objectively spectacular.

“I hate you!” Raphael spat petulantly. You could have made your point without making me such a...such a...”

“Bimbo?” Alice raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, but even a legal type like me knows that sex sells. Besides, I would kill for your figure. I wouldn't stretch to the massive boob job, facial reconstruction and getting two ribs removed, but kill...maybe. Anyway, you'll need this...” she held out a roll of tape that coordinated in colour to the salon toned hue of Raphael's skin. She smiled as his confusion gave him a classic dumb blonde expression. “Hey, I know you've been taking your hormones and there won't be all that much to hide but we still don't want any slips.” Raphael batted his eyelashes with further puzzlement. “Oh right, I guess it would have made more sense if I gave you these first...” With her other hand she presented a shopping bag over flowing with brightly coloured bikinis. “They will look great with the heels by the way.” Alice smirked on seeing the hate return to Raphael's face. “I recommend wearing the skimpier ones. We really need this guy to invest in the company. Someone has been stealing from us don't you know?”  

Purple Passion

 15/25

Greg looked down at the slender pixie-esque woman gobbling hungrily on his throbbing cock and smiled. Never before had he met a girl so eager to please – least of all one he had met just twenty minutes ago. He rested his hands on the top of her head as it bobbed frantically, playing with her white blonde hair as pleasure washed over him. The girl responded automatically by reaching around and grabbing his butt and pulling her lips all the way to his balls. Time appeared to stand still in that moment except for the tingle at the tip of his dick deep inside her face. His own mouth dropped open and he became fixated on the purple streaks in her hair – counting them and playing with her locks ever more frantically as he neared orgasm. Suddenly, the girl looked up at him, her eyes wide as they met his and even though she didn't hesitate her cock-slurping for one second, he thought he saw something else there – regret, or shame maybe? Not that Greg was bothered. He only cared about whether he was going to cum in her mouth...or on her pretty little face instead...

Jeanie tried to concentrate on her knees. They hurt of course, planted on the wooden floor as they were, but it was still better than thinking about the sweaty dick slamming into the back of her throat. She wanted to curse but her lips were forced wide in the task her body was compelling her to complete. As an apprentice to the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes she had a monthly quota to meet – a minimum amount of desires that as a young witch, she was to magically corrupt – and if she failed, her line manager would punish her appropriately – hence the horny boy towering over her lusty mouth. After three poor months in a row, her boss has chosen a particularly cruel voodoo charm that turned her into a compulsive blowjob puppet for every boy she met until she could find a new wish to ruin.

Jeanie was snapped from her thoughts by Greg moaning loudly and grasping her hair roughly into involuntary pigtails. He squeezed her nose hard into his pubic hair and hot thick fluid sprayed down the back of her throat. The boy's body went rigid and she fell onto her butt.

“Oh my God!” Greg gasped in ecstasy. “I wish I was as passionate about something as you are for sucking my cock.” Jeanie smiled with glee even as the cum began to dribble over her lips.

Five minutes later and Greg had discovered his new obsession. A purple bow lay on the floor and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Jeanie left more little purple breadcrumbs for him to follow – a pair of purple satin panties, a purple petticoat and a cute frilly purple dress. Using her magic she aided his transformation giving him a shock of blonde hair like her own and softening his masculine features. Greg didn't even notice. He was too enthralled by the purple items that he was desperately adorning on his body. Finally, his transformation complete, he stumbled out the fire door and into the alley behind the building. He held the hem of the dress wide and looked down. Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind. He knew he looked ridiculous but he just couldn't get enough of that colour.

Whatever Happened to the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 3

 14/25

This is the latest caption in the Pink n Prissy story. The rest can be found on my index page.

“We didn't realise it at the time but Kirsten was like the OG of sissifying boys at our school.” Josie warmed her hands against the flames of the campfire. She glanced at Sam and shook her head. “She was humiliating the likes of you back when we were still in middle school. If we were a few years older, we would have looked up to her like a God. This is probably why Grace got it so bad. In dressing up Brent, she was pissing in a much bigger and much more experienced dog's yard. And we were banking on the same happening again.”

“When Kirsten came home, everything suddenly got really quiet,” Terri carried on the story. “She must have been only like twenty back then but there was something so commanding in her presence. She just stood in the doorway in her work clothes glaring at us. She had stopped yelling and somehow her not saying anything was even scarier. We were all frozen in place. Even Stephanie hadn't budged from her position bending over Brent to taunt him. Finally, she screamed at us to get upstairs.”

“This is where we took our biggest chance,” Josie said. “The logical thing would have been to run for it. We probably would have got away but if we did that, Stephanie would have escaped too. I made a comment that we should do as she said or she might call the cops and started to lead us up the stairs. Thankfully, Steph followed. We were all so terrified that it wasn't surprising. She was probably on autopilot.”

“Kirsten herded us into a bedroom at the top of the stairs. She waited until Brent sauntered in behind us still dressed in that silly nurse's outfit and locked the door.” Cassie continued the story with fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “She was so scary. She didn't even say a word. She just calmly unzipped the back of her work skirt and let it slide down her legs. She looked over her shoulder at us once, took something out of a drawer and fastened the biggest dildo I had ever seen right over the top of her nylons.”

“That thing was enormous,” Charlotte gasped. “It was so veiny and thick. I think you could have played softball with it. I will never forget what happened next. She stood there with her hands on her hips and that big rubber dick pointing at us like it was interrogating us or something. Then she pointed at Brent and asked who had done that to him.”

“Look,” Josie raised her hands defensively, “we're not snitches. We didn't actually say anything. That said, when Kirsten asked that question, not an eye in that room didn't stare straight at Stephanie. We watched her turn white before us and Kirsten just smiled this evil little smile. She looked Stephanie up and down as if appraising her tomboyish appearance and then cracked her knuckles slowly and threateningly. Finally she said, 'I see you like wearing boys' clothes. That's the first thing we are going to change!'

FleshForward

 13/25

It was a full moon and an ensemble of stars glittered over the rooftop bar. Drunken laughter chattered over the thrum of traffic below and glasses clattered together as overloaded waiters milled around the patrons with trays of drinks. He felt dazzled by the colourful cocktails and sparkling fairy lights. One minute they weren't there and the next they were everywhere. Surrounded by people yet alone – a perfectly painted statuette with soft curves and smooth skin. People kept their distance like one might do to a masterpiece in a gallery. It was a chilly night and the skimpy leather dress did little to keep him warm. His delicate body prickled in the cold – familiar sensations on a form that felt truly alien to him. Alone...and then, his name was called. He looked over his shoulder towards its source and soft hair swished across his back. His glossy lips dropped open when he spotted the slender woman in black striding towards him. He tried to focus on her face and then everything vanished...

When the collective consciousness of the earth's population leaped forward two years and thirty-six days no-one knew what had just happened. It only lasted for a little over two minutes but it was enough for people to see their dreams realised, their worst nightmares or, perhaps most terrifying, nothing at all. It was written off as some kind of shared hallucination until stories started to surface online about people who had seen themselves living in great mansions winning the lottery, people suffering life altering accidents after seeing themselves in a wheelchair and others meeting partners they had seen themselves with. With every passing day it became clearer that the world had seen a vision of its future.

Being a famous influencer with legions of online subscribers, Joel was asked frequently about what he had seen. The comment sections of his Youtube videos were stuffed with speculation and his fanbase became increasingly frustrated with his insistence on ducking the questions and reverting back to his usual topics of men's fashion and travel. When it finally became impossible to ignore the probing he just brushed it off saying that he must have been asleep because he felt like he was dreaming. At last his fans seemed satisfied.

But for Joel it didn't end there. What was fun speculation for his viewers was a ball of fear in his stomach. Every time he closed his eyes the sensation of the tight leather dress returned – the squeeze of the high-heeled boots hugging his calves. But how? It was impossible. It had to have been a dream...right? How else could he have had a vision of being a delicately beautiful young woman in a rooftop bar while everyone else's visions were coming true? He couldn't let his imagination run wild. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. And that slender woman that had just moved into his building...the one that always dressed in black and smiled a little too widely when he passed in the halfway...that was just a coincidence...right?

Soul Switchers Part 3

 12/25

Though I eventually regained my senses, I never again regained my own body. I still don't know for sure why Hannah wouldn't switch back, or if she even could. Our undying love as soulmates was a prerequisite of our secret ability and the core trust of our relationship was undeniably shattered that day. I allowed another woman to defile my wife's body with me as pilot for my own pleasure and I wouldn't blame Hannah for not forgiving me for that alone. There was more however. Seeing her unresponsive to my efforts to please her later in our bedroom made me realise that though we had been sharing bodies for years, we had not quite shared everything. It had become painfully clear my wife had not been sharing in the orgasmic pleasure of our lovemaking nor had she shared the honest truth of my failing to her.

With this in mind, I can only imagine how Hannah felt watching me scream and moan while wearing her body. Seeing me squirm and writhe as she guided the cock that had previously failed her into me must at the very least have kindled jealousy...resentment even. My eyes rolled deep into the back of my head while she thrust deeper into the hot pussy I had on loan.

I was too busy screaming into that bead necklace stuffed between my lips to notice Hannah also climaxed. Had I been listening, I might have heard the grunting of my own voice as she shot sticky fluid over my stinging pert asscheeks. It was the first and last time I ever made my wife cum and I genuinely don't blame her for taking this small consolation as her own.

It has been two and a half months since I parted from my soulmate and in that time I have reached glorious ecstasy one hundred and ninety four times. Having someone who can speak to your soul is all fine and well but someone who can speak to your body can take you places love alone never can. Now that I am single, I can share my new body with as many of these people as I like...and fuck me, do I like...

Take Daisy for example, a blonde domina who won't even tell me her real name. She knows how to treat me. She knows how to use me. She knows how to tie a leash around my neck and pull me deep into her drooling gash. She knows how to laugh at me in a way that pushes me even further over the edge – laugh at me while I whimper at the enormous strap-on dildo crammed in my ass. She is one of many...

I am not looking for a new soulmate. I am too far gone for that. I never thought of Hannah as a bimbo or a slut, but now that I have tasted this life in her body, it is all I crave to be. I am just chasing moments... short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments, and I don't care who gives them to me.

Soul Switchers Part 2

 11/25

In those first moments of piercing ecstasy I thought nothing. All mental function ceased and my existence was reduced to pure concentrated physicality. A stranger's face pressed between my legs. Her clawing fingernails scraping the soft flesh of my ass. Squeezing. Pulling. Impaling me deeper on her busy tongue. As the void in my head subsided, I contemplated my soul as I had done many times before. As the orgasm had washed over me it had surrendered control absolutely and Hannah's body betraying me as I betrayed her soul in turn.

I have never tried to hide anything from my wife. We are soulmates after all. And whilst returning home to her waiting with dinner, I realised I was not about to start. The screaming pleasure had ended but its pulsing echo flushed through me. An afterglow so warm that I could only bask in it and drool hungrily into Hannah's panties as I sat on the busy commuter train.

I suppose the fact I didn't foresee Hannah's reaction when we returned to our own bodies should have been my first red flag to how all of this would eventually play out. I had betrayed my wife while wearing her skin and of course upon switching back she immediately knew this. The buzz, the wetness...it would have been as if she had been in that office herself, her lips wrapped around her boss's thumb, sucking obediently while another hand was send crashing across her exposed rear.

But the anger, the shouting, the deserved accusations of betrayal never came. My soulmate didn't want to avenge the sexual debasement of her body, she wanted to experience it. She was feeling the rippling of the waves against the shore but she wanted the crashing tide and everything that came with it. Like I before, the wants of her soul submitted to the needs of her body.

We left dinner to go cold and Hannah dragged me upstairs. She wanted everything her boss had given me and I tried valiantly to provide. I licked and I stroked and I spanked and I pounded and yet all my efforts were met with equal disappointment. With every passing moment of my wife's indifference in the bedroom, it became clearer that Hannah had been hiding something from me all along. Much effort and no orgasms later, she was ready to switch approach.

We swapped places again then. If I couldn't give my wife what she desired, we could crack the code another way. I would wear her body and use my experience from earlier that evening to guide her hand so that we might recreate it in our own bodies afterwards. Any reluctance I had disappeared the instant I entered Hannah once more. The steady thrum of that climax remained as white noise and my soulmate got to work on unlocking it. Like an addict, I wanted that high again and though it took a while for Hannah to break me, eventually I came and I came hard. My mind thought nothing as I writhed inside Hannah's body, a bead necklace shoved in my mouth, a firm hand grasping my hair, and my own cock deep inside me as my wife furiously pounded me into the mattress.

Soul Switchers Part 1

 10/25

Life is made of moments. Short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments. Like the first time I saw my wife. From the moment I looked into those big round gorgeous eyes I knew we were soulmates. Some of you may be reading this, perhaps sipping a hot beverage and nodding your head, thinking you understand, thinking you can relate to how I felt in that moment. You don't and you can't. You see, being a soulmate is not merely being in love with someone. It is not waking every day just to see their face or even being willing to lay down your life for theirs at a moment's notice. It is more. So much more.

Soulmates...true soulmates, carry a secret – a magical, wonderful shared secret. They will never tell you this secret, not because there is some dire consequence, but because they simply have no need to do so. There is nothing more to gain. We are complete. We are one, and we are so...so rare.

True soulmates can share bodies. By this I mean my wife commands the ability to pilot my body and I hers. Our love is so pure, our souls so intertwined, that the very essence of who we are is blurred between us. We are no longer individuals. We are an us. I can be her and she can be me and the limits of existence observe an orbit one body greater than the rest of you.

Perhaps you are wondering if such a secret actually comes with any advantages? Well, think about that for a second. In sharing our bodies, our bodies also share our minds...our personalities...our abilities. Hannah is fantastic at job interviews – she goes to all of mine in my body and I have risen up my company ladder like a helium balloon. On the flipside, I speak French fluently. Last month I was able to pilot Hannah's body to charm her a big new client in Paris and earn her a promotion of her own. We are so in tune that we know instantly when the other wants us to step in – even for just a few hours. Like this afternoon, for example. Hannah slipped up with her new client in a conference call after they were surprised to find her grasp of French had diminished dramatically since their last meeting and was due a dressing down from her boss. I have no problem being shouted at by a woman I don't even know so I was more than happy to jump into my wife's body for an hour after work while Hannah used mine to start on dinner.

Except her boss wasn't interested in just shouting. She wanted to threaten, cajole and punish. She wanted to seduce and to use. Ultimately, she wanted to fuck.

You are probably wondering why I am telling you this. After all, I told you that we soulmates have no need to share our secrets. We have no need for more. I am telling you because life is made of moments. Short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments and I now know that the female orgasm is one of such moments, and holy shit do I want more...

The Nihilist

 9/25

This caption features the Bimbo Note and is a follow up to this recent Flashback Friday

Azalea knew how to drip honey. She knew how to move her body, what faces to pull and exactly what to say to captivate her audience and turn them into a sticky mess. These were skills that made her such an enticing attraction on OnlyFemmes. Men would pay good money to satisfy their sweet-tooth with a custom video or a private stream and she knew exactly how to keep them coming back for more.

Today's mark was a rather buff looking nerd and Azalea gazed hypnotically at him down the lens of her tripod mounted camera. On her laptop screen, the man sat on a bed with his legs spread wide slowly stroked a large cock as she swayed her hips gently in her black latex catsuit. Slowly, she eased down the zipper on the front of her outfit, removed one of her fleshy round breasts and began to massage the pierced nipple. The man's tongue lolled out and his hand picked up speed. Azalea moved her gloved fingers to her mouth and one by one suckled them with her plump pink lips while expertly gliding the zipper further down. The other breast plopped free and she replaced her fingers with the newly liberated bosom, gnashing lightly at it with perfect white teeth.

Finally, the zipper snapped just below the naval and Azalea looked down at it with coy surprise. A flick of her eyes towards the screen told her that the man was beating frantically now and she slipped her rubber clad fingers beneath her catsuit and began to rotate. She would need to be quick.

Azalea moaned loudly, her hips thrusting spasmodically towards the camera to the crackle of her latex catsuit. She opened her eyes as wide as they would go and let them roll back into her head. Her audience didn't even seem to notice this little embellishment and she realised he must be getting close.

"Quick," she cried through panted breaths, "tell me your name! I want to scream it while I cum my brains out looking at your cock. The man duely obliged and Azalea instantly regained composure and removed her hand from between her legs.

Ignoring her customer's obvious confusion, she coolly picked up the Bimbo Note from next to the laptop and scrawled the name on the first available clean page. On the laptop screen, the stunned man watched in horror as his erect dick shrank from his grasp and disappeared into his body. He gained curves and breasts and pink satin appeared and wrapped itself around his body. Stockings and then boots creeped up his legs and long hair fell over bare delicate shoulders. The finishing touch, a slutty heart shaped choker manifested around his neck just in time for the newly formed bimbo to begin twiddling a lock of hair – a vacant look on her heavily painted face.

Azalea glanced at the Bimbo note at her side and then at the empty vessel of femininity on her laptop. The honey was gone, only a cold stare remained as she returned her hand inside her catsuit and began to finger herself for real.

Smartly Dressed

 8/25

When Smart Fabric was first created, its uses were mostly innocent. A material not unlike cotton that could disperse mood-altering hormones into the wearer's skin through their pores had the potential to be a real game-changer. Inevitably it was strictly banned in sports almost immediately but in other sectors products were rapidly designed for the mass market. The Empower Suit – businesswear that gave the owner the motivation and confidence of a CEO. Cotton Courage – thermal underwear for military and law enforcement than removed all fear and doubt when in the line of duty. And even the Patience Pyjamas – a fluffy onesie designed for parents that allowed them to stay calm and stress free all day long.

For all the initial benevolence, it was only a matter of time before Smart Fabric was used for more 'adult' purposes. Before long entire ranges of sex products were available for purchase – most of them focussing around the dominant/submissive dynamic. Catsuits that made the wearer feel ten foot tall and handcuffs lined with fur that could render you as tame as a kitten were just two examples of new wares that now occupied the shelves of sex shops and every dingy corner of the internet.

It was from one of these websites that Clara bought a pair of Prison Panties – an especially devilishly sexy pair of satin underwear that promised a broken and eager to please 'slut' ready for use. Of course, she had no desire to ever slide such revolting things up her legs and over her backside – they were merely a trap. Bait.

Clara had become aware of her husband's shameful habit about a month ago when she found a stained pair of her panties stuffed behind the back of their bed. She had found many more since and buying the Prison Panties was her plan to catch him in the act and punish him.

In didn't take long for the rat to make a move on the cheese and just two days after Clara had put the enticing new knickers into her panty drawer, she came home from work to find John whimpering in the kitchen on his knees, entirely naked except for the satin panties hugging him tightly.

True to the product's promise, John was now putty in her vengeful hands and it was child's play to get him into the rest of the items she had ordered from the same site. She watched with satisfaction as he slipped into the sissy maid's uniform and pulled on the assortment of shackles, the Smart Fabric from each rendering him more and more submissive until his weakling sycophancy actually became irritating and Clara applied a ballgag to shut him up.

Two hours later and John was halfway through his chores. Each task completed was its own reward and even though a deep feeling of shame ached within him, it was good to serve his mistress. With only two more jobs to do he wondered what she might have in store next. He just needed to finish hoovering...oh, and order some more Prison Panties so he could be a good clean sissy.

Whatever Happened to the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 2

 7/25

A bit convenient this one fell of a Friday. The rest of the series is on my linked captions page

“The thing you need to understand about Stephanie is that she loved power,” Charlotte began the story and the rest of the Pink n Prissy hushed quiet. Only the crackle of the campfire accompanied her voice. “Not just the power that comes with dressing up boys either – we all had that, as I suppose you have experienced,” she eyed Sam across the flames. “No, with Steph it was always about being number one – whether it meant making a sissy serve her, or treating us like her slaves...like we were undeserving of her leadership. She totally had coming what we did to her but there was no way she was ever going to leave it there. She was going to come for us and we needed a pre-emptive strike.”

“I reached out to her,” Terri stood and took center stage. “I knew she always respected me a bit more than the others. We both dressed alike – tomboy stuff.” She gestured at her boyish outfit sheepishly. “I told her things weren't going so well with Josie as leader after what...errrm...happened to Grace, and that if she could show she still had 'it', I could get Cassie and Charlotte on board to reinstate her as leader. Basically, an audition to reprove herself. She wasn't thrilled about having to jump through hoops but I think she would have done anything to boss us around again. She took the bait hungrily and all we had to do was set the trap.”

“Terri provided Stephanie with a target and told her she had to go all out so that we would all be reminded of how amazing she was at sissifying boys,” Cassie continued the story from her position next to Terri. “You might have already figured it out, but the boy she picked out for Steph was Brent, Kirsten's younger brother. Stephanie knew what Kirsten did to Grace – she wouldn't shut up about it actually, but she had never actually seen Brent and so when Terri pointed him out, he was just like any other future victim.”

“Stephanie followed Brent home from school with us all tagging along, supposedly to witness her genius,” Charlotte took over. “She had a sports bag full of clothes and makeup and as soon as the kid opened his front door, she bundled him inside.”

“In fairness, she did a pretty good job on him,” Terri said. “And it was actually really satisfying to see that pipsqueak prissified like that. It was his squealing that put Grace in Kirsten's crosshairs after all. She just straight up overpowered him and stuffed him into this kind of frilly nurse outfit complete with headband and heels. The makeup was a bit slapdash but what can you do when they wriggle about like that. When all was said and done, Brent just sat there on his own kitchen floor in a daze. He looked truly pathetic.”

“Steph probably should have realised something was wrong when I walked in,” Josie grinned. “This whole plan was to overthrow me, remember? She sure as shit knew something was wrong when Kirsten got home from work five minutes later and started yelling.”