Vice of the Voiceless - Tom

 23/25

This is the final of the four victims of Pink n Prissy's silence serum. Remember there is only enough antidote for three of the 'boys' so you can vote for which sissy you think should remain at the collective's mercy for some further punishment in the comments of today's cap. The other three boy's captions can be found here (Carl, Timothy, Sam) and the rest of the Pink n Prissy Collective story is on my index page.

She would never admit it to her fellow Pink n Prissy Collective members but Josie was beginning to feel a little nervous. As their leader it was necessary to show strength and that's why when she handed the preference cards out to the muted boys, she made sure Tom got hers. She could tell he was the alpha of the group and in breaking him she would be asserting dominance over not only her band of friends but also their rival sex. However, with the deadline fast approaching, her sissy was nowhere in sight.

She was scouring the school grounds for her target. The final bell had long since rang yet there was no sign of Tom. Maybe she should have been more assertive... She knew some of the girls had played active parts in feminising the other boys but she much preferred to see them break alone, desperately debasing themselves for her pleasure, and she had a motto – the tougher the guy, the prissier the sissy. But where was Tom?!

She rounded the side of the school. As a former pupil she still new lots of people at her former hunting grounds but her heart thumped in her chest all the same. Finally, she turned another corner and found a group of boys circled around something next to the wall. Josie tutted on hearing the homophobic slurs they were shouting yet found refuge in the fact she had found what she was looking for.

“Hey! Get out of here!” she yelled at the gang. They stared at her menacingly but began to disperse all the same. Josie made a mental note of their faces, vowing to punish them sometime in the future the only way she knew how. The area now clear, their target was on full show. “My card said I wanted a Bad Bitch,” she smirked, “not a total pussy. Why d'you let them pick on you like that? And I thought you were the alpha...”

The gangly Tom gaped at her despairingly from his position on the concrete ledge, unable to respond. His long stockinged legs dangled beneath him capped with a pair of fierce heels. A red leather jacket draped over tight hotpants and long wavy locks cascaded wildly over his shoulders. Tom might not have been acting like a Bad Bitch but he certainly looked the part. Josie was impressed.

“You got balls dressing like that to school. I would have expected you to slip into something at the last moment. Maybe 'balls' is the wrong word...” Josie gave her prize a satisfied smile but Tom continued to stare nervously past her at the departing bullies, “Come,” she gestured, “the Pink n Prissy Collective is waiting. It's time to vote on whether you deserve your voice back.”

A Charmed Life

 22/25

Cole was a bad boy. Or at least that is what he wanted Hollywood to think. He was chasing the dream, trying to make it big as the modern big screen reincarnation of James Dean. Unfortunately, he couldn't act. Not that it deterred him – nowadays it wasn't about talent, you just needed the look – the million dollar gaze, the charm or as the French say – the 'je nais se quois'! Nevertheless, Cole bounced from failed audition to failed audition without pause to refine his skills but rather many an afternoon shopping to improve his look.

In was on one of these excursions that he spotted the skull pendant decorating a mannequin in the window of Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly. He was immediately drawn to the charm and rushed inside to purchase it. Sadly, when he removed it from the brown paper bag and threw it around his neck, it was the skull and not Cole that enjoyed the fit.

From that moment forth, the budding actor was but a passenger in his own body. The pendant was his new producer, director and indeed makeup and wardrobe as Cole found himself dragged along on further shopping trips to update his style to that of a Downtown Hollywood bimbo. All his internal screaming had no effect on the actions his body took even as he toured Los Angeles's plastic surgery clinics. His meat prison was decorated with silicon, collagen and synthetic hair as the necklace possessed him to have breast and butt implants, his lips filled and his face reshaped, and extensions added to the top of his head while the rest of his body hair was lasered off. In three short months, he had become a buxom babe with a mountain of debt and the only trace of his old life being a hairless penis shrivelled by hormone injections sleeping between a pair of soft creamy thighs.

It was a month later and Cole was perched on the edge of a sofa waiting for his latest audition. A door opened and his body automatically straightened his back and pushed out his chest, stretching the painfully tight corset torturing his waist even further. However, it was just the secretary that had signed him in and taken his absurd fur coat. She grunted at him disapprovingly and placed a pocket sized packet of tissues on the coffee table in front on him.

“You'll need those,” she said humourlessly. “Also, I hope your makeup is waterproof. I'm sick of picking false-eyelashes out of the couch.” She departed leaving Cole to his own despair. He could already feel his loins firing, instructed by the awful thing around his neck. By now he was merely a ridiculous puppet and the pendant pulled the strings. If the pendant wanted to answer a casting call, he was going to answer a casting call. If the pendant wanted him to be the new star of Shemale Gangbang Sluts 2021, he was going to be the new star of Shemale Gangbang Sluts 2021. And, if the pendant wanted him to enjoy it...well... Cole panted involuntarily in anticipation.

Under the Influence Part 3

 21/25

I realise I have left this a bit open ended. I plan to do a sequel some time in the future.

Somehow things had got worse when the nightclub closed. Somehow Claire's grasp on her brother's life only got more firm as they were forced apart into their separate homes. Somehow being made to stay home was exposing Brody's feminised form to more of an audience than tottering around outside Ripped Gene's ever had. Somehow meticulously applying his own makeup was more demeaning than having his sister do it for him Brody thought ruefully as a blob of mascara clumped his lashes together.

It is true that you can't dig yourself out of a hole, only deeper, but what choice did he have as Claire's mountain of blackmail material piled up? If he didn't comply, she would expose him to everyone he knew, and now as his career as a girly nightclub promoter was forced to end, his new role as a Youtube fashion influencer was just beginning. This might be his apartment but make no mistake, this was Claire's dollhouse – and he was her doll.

“Hey, enough!” His sister called out from his laptop screen. “You look gorgeous already. We're not going to get any more subscribers from you spending the entire afternoon on your face – not that I am unimpressed. I can tell you have been practising.”

Brody sighed and turned to face her. He prayed they could get this video done in just a few takes. The bow in his hair was itching and the dress Claire had picked out was hideously prissy. He had been rehearsing his female voice at her demand after she had overdubbed their first few videos and now was his time to 'shine'. He pressed record on his laptop and forced a sweet smile into the camera. “Hey, Gals! Me again!” he simpered and twirled so the dress flowed around him while his sister tried to suppress a fit of giggles in the inset. “I have so many fabulous outfits to show you today!”

Three hours later and Brody's dignity was well and truly crippled. Claire was receiving the video files he had emailed her when she stopped to look at him through the screen. “Sucks, doesn't it?” she glared at him. “Feeling so exposed, so powerless. You couldn't keep my secret and you humiliated me, and now...I'm humiliating you by holding onto a secret. Ironic...don't ya think?” At last she smiled again and Brody gazed down at his heeled feet. “By the way don't forget to send me that box full of your clothes...otherwise your secret won't stay secret.”

His sister ended the call and he looked over at the cardboard box she had sent the latest outfits over in. He had to fill it with his own clothes and send it back just as he had the three boxes before that. Slowly Claire was replacing his entire wardrobe leaving him stuck at home with a collection of clothing that would make Barbie proud. Two more boxes and he would have nothing left and with her surprise video calls she would know if he held anything back. He was in a hole alright – a pink, lacy and satin filled hole – and for now what could he do but keep digging? Digging and plotting for a way to turn the tables...

Under the Influence Part 2

 20/25

I am glad people are enjoying this one as I already have enough ideas for a sequel. Actually I have been having a lot more ideas for longer stories recently - even though I have been too busy to work on them.

Sorry but the picture is small for this one again

'When I wake-up, in my makeup...' The voice of Courtney Love thumped from inside the rock club and Brody thought about how bitterly desperate he was to remove the cosmetics from his own face. If he did indeed wake up like this he would likely cry until mascara streaked down his powdered cheeks. For now, however, he was grateful for the products Claire had caked to his face. They were the only thing protecting what little dignity he had left as he stood outside Ripped Gene's nightclub trying to get punters to go in.

“Not doing too well, are you?” his sister tutted at the full ticket-book clasped in his hand. She took step back to look him up and down. “Well, you certainly look the part.” Brody instinctively pulled the large heart-shaped handbag defensively in front of his body but Claire pushed it away to reveal the zippered leather top and short skirt combo he had been stuffed into. “Hmmm... maybe it was a mistake getting you to help me with my club promoting... Maybe I should just put those pictures on social media and enjoy the fallout...” She laughed at the sight of her brother's suddenly terror filled expression. “Okay, Sis, let me see you work. Maybe I can give you some pointers?”

Brody tried to force himself into action. As bad as this was, everyone he knew thinking he was some kind of pervert would be so much worse. At least he could wakeup from this. Composing himself, he tottered over on heeled boots to a group of girls smoking outside the bar next door and tried in earnest to persuade them to buy tickets. He returned two minutes later with his tail between his painfully waxed legs to his sister shaking her head.

“Well there's your problem,” she sighed, “you don't know your audience. Look..”she pushed his long blonde wig away from his breast forms to give him a bit more perk, “...you aren't a pussy magnet, Brody, you are the pussy. I might be a thirsty lesbian hot for a sweet little thing in leather, but most girls aren't. On the other hand, guys will buy tickets by the handful if they think the club is full of sexy minxes like you.” She glanced at a group of men getting out of a taxi and then back at Brody. “Guys are dumb.”

What choice did he have? Brody adjusted his skirt, paranoid that it may have ridden up again, and turned towards the men. A stinging swat landed right on the tight fabric stretched across his ass from his sister's palm. One of the guys saw him approaching and nudged his friends, a drunken smile cracking on his face.

“Is there more like you inside?” he winked, playing with the cash in his hand from paying the driver. He teased to offer it and then pulled it back. “Just in case there isn't...” he pointed to his cheek, “how about a welcome kiss?” Brody groaned as he watched the other men line up behind for their turn.

Under the Influence Part 1

19/25

There was nothing more for Brody to do but sit in discomfort and wait for his sister to come back. He rocked from side to side impatiently and felt a bare ass-cheek peel away from the wooden flooring as weight was transferred to its partner on the other side of the thong splitting them. Claire hadn't insisted on the panties, but she had made it clear that the flowing red dress would reveal more than he wanted it to if he wasn't careful and the alternative was to go commando. Brody had reluctantly opted for the knickers and now as he waited for his sister to arrive with her Birthday party guests, he prayed that this would all be worth it.

Of course it will be, he reassured himself as he closed his heavily madeup eyes and imagined the drunken lesbians frolicking and grinding against each other in Claire's pokey flat...maybe even grinding against him. He didn't blame his sister for putting him through this after what happened at last year's Birthday – an intimate affair where Brody had accidentally outed his sister's preference for the fairer sex to their entire family. He could still see his Grandma's widened stare as he giggled to her inquiries into potential boyfriends. That horror show was probably why Claire had decided on something so different this year – an all girls' party where she could be herself, and if Brody wanted a glimpse of her secret lesbian life, he had to look the part.

He opened his eyes to he sister returning. He tried to rise to greet her but the heels were too high and he plopped back down painfully on his butt – actually feeling gratitude for his panties as the red satin of his dress rode high on his waxed legs. “Where is everyone?” he tried to compose himself as Claire pulled out a camera phone and snapped a picture.

“Everyone?” She raised as eyebrow. “But it's just you and me...and the world wide web.” She took a moment to drink in the terror on his face. “I know what you're thinking. It will be embarrassing, but you will be able to explain it away – a joke, a dare perhaps...a backdoor into your sister's x-rated lesbian party... But what if I post it to your social media with a passionate confession of your secret alter-ego. What if I out you...just like you outed me?”

Brody frowned. “But I don't even have social media. You know I hate that stuff.”

“Oh, but you do,” Claire grinned, “you've had it almost a year in fact. You're well connected with all your friends, family and work colleagues. You've even been dropping hints about your secret life for some months now – your long impassioned critiques of Ru Paul contestants, sharing fashion tips with that girl you like from work...I actually think you are going to confirm a lot of people's suspicions.” She paused to enjoy the sheer dread emblazoned on her brother's face. “And yet...here I am thinking there is more fun we could have together instead of sharing it with everyone. It's your choice Brody...should I share you?”

Shakes (a Liza story)

 18/25

This is the newest caption in my Aiko series. Find the rest on my index page

“So, this Aiko chick...she's the reason you're doing all...this?” Mason gestured to himself and looked down in shame at the lipstick stain he had left on the straw of his milkshake.

Liza raised an eyebrow. “Chick? That's no way for a young lady to talk,” she grinned. “If you want me to top up your beverage with some of my special sherbet, I suggest you make the necessary adjustments.” She waved a sachet across the table teasingly.

Mason shivered, and not just from the brain freeze. In just two short days he had already witnessed the full power of the powder in Liza's possession. His outfit spoke for itself. He should have known something was amiss when her step-dad made them apple pie dressed in a French maid's outfit but how could have known he was about to be served up as her next victim? From the second that crust had crossed his lips, his fate had been sealed. His body had been seized by the 'want' – that clammy desperation to do whatever it took to get just another taste of that substance. Liza had gladly supplied the 'whatever'.

“Oh...” he looked left and right to see who was looking and tried to sink deeper into the diner booth while Liza drank in his discomfort. “The girl you like, Aiko,” he began as demurely as he possibly could and even batted his eyelashes a little for effect, “she's the one you are making me do this for?”

“She's the best!?” Liza practically chomped off the end of his sentence. “She's my hero. She feminises boys with such style and so effortlessly...she's such an inspiration. I am going dress up as many boys as I can and photo them for my blog and Aiko is going to come back and we're going to be best friends...” The frantic pace of her voice slowed and something resembling uncertainty entered her face. “Aiko is going to come back...” she whispered, “she has to...”

Mason studied the vulnerability in her features and rested his chin in hands. He could almost forgive all the outfits and the makeup he had been forced to endure. In that second Liza's dominance over him appeared to crumble. And then...as quickly as it had arrived, her weakness snapped away.

“But until then,” she tossed him the sachet and giggled as he gobbled it down, digging himself deeper into her clutches. “Until then, it's just us. Drink up, sugar, we're going shopping. I need you to look your best for my blog if you're going to catch Aiko's eye.”

Shivers

 17/25

This is a Mannequeen caption. The rest of the story is on the inbox page

The first thing to puncture Austin's waking mind was the cold. The second and third things were the fleshy globes on his chest held in by the shiny latex dress. He was shaking even before the fear gripped him and he sat up slowly to find himself in the snow in a neglected part of town. To say he 'found himself' would not be quite accurate. What he actually found was a buxom beauty in a skin tight dress, elbow length vinyl gloves, high heels and little else. A tape recorder rested near his hand and already fearing the worst, he pushed 'play' with his shivering manicured fingers.

“Hello Austin. I want to play a game. They say you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends. You can certainly choose your fiancee. Austin, I think you need to start making better choices. Detective Lara Lake and her partner, the Cleaner, may have turned me into a sex craving abomination but I am going to enjoy my revenge more than any pleasure an orgasm could provide. Speaking of...you have been fitted with a state-of-the-art female bodysuit that will bond to your skin in fifteen minutes unless you can show me you are dramatically improved at finding a partner. The bodysuit contains a temperature sensor that will unlock your prison if you can get hot and bothered enough. You may have noticed it is a bit chilly today but I am sure with my motivation, you can find some fire in your loins. Good luck Austin. You have fifteen minutes.”

The tape recorder fell from Austin's hand as panic seized his body. A million thoughts zipped around his head. First of all the sheer disbelief that this sublime body he could now call his own was a bodysuit. It felt so real, even down to the gooseflesh on his arms. Second of all the confusion of what he had just heard about Lara. Hadn't she been the one that caught the Cleaner? The tape had made it sound like she was some kind of supervillain. A feeling of betrayal stirred with the discomfort in his stomach.

Austin folded his gloved hands around his ample breasts and looked around desperately. All the buildings were boarded up and the abandoned cars dumped by the curb promised little heat. He tried to run on the spot for warmth but was sent sprawling into a snowdrift on his six-inch heels. Sitting up for the second time, he rubbed a slender ankle and searched for inspiration. If he got out of this, he was going to make Lara pay. A flickering at the end of the block caught Austin's eye. Was that fire? He stumbled to his feet and hobbled towards it. A garbage can was spitting out orange flames and for the first time in his ordeal he felt hope.

“Well, well, well...what do we have here?” Austin's attention was snatched by the five vagrants gathered around the fire. “Looking for someone to warm you up?” The biggest man stepped in front of the can rubbing his hands. Austin looked from man to man, knowing he had about five minutes left, and realised he would probably need all of them to get hot enough.

Traffic Swap

 16/25

This one was a request I got off Tumblr

David knew he was in trouble as soon he saw the flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. He just didn't know what for. As hard as he fought to stay calm, cops had always made him nervous and he felt like he was floating outside himself as the young blonde policewoman spoke to him through the driver's side window. Something something warrant something something parking violations and as if in a dream, he was being led through the evening air to the patrol car. The rear door was opened and he was pushed inside.

“David meet Tiffany...Tiffany...David,” the blonde's brunette partner grinned coldly from the driver's seat. He turned and realised he was not alone in the backseat but rather shared it with an intimidating looking woman dressed in black mesh and leather – a stern frown peeked from beneath an unnatural flow of synthetic hair. The cop in the passenger seat turned to face them. “You two have a lot in common. Tiffany here thinks she can let anyone who pays park in her space...and David,” she smirked at him, “thinks he can park in any space he wants regardless of whether he pays or not.” She shook her head playfully. “Yep, you're two peas in a pod alright...”

David pressed himself against the window in an attempt to put as much space as possible between himself and the prostitute. This couldn't be happening. He had meant to pay the tickets. He had just forgotten... He looked up and saw that Tiffany was glaring at him. Was his disgust really so obvious?

The police radio burst into life and an operator called out a series of numbers that meant nothing to David. “RIOT IN PROGRESS. I REPEAT. RIOT IN PROGRESS. ALL UNITS RESPOND.” The blonde grabbed the radio to acknowledge and the brunette pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“Looks like it's your lucky night,” the blonde sighed as she turned to face them. “Such a shame, you two make sure a lovely pair. If only there was some other way you could pay your dues to society...” She glanced from David to Tiffany and back again before grinning evilly at her partner. “Hey? How do you feel about a little creative rehabilitation?”

Twenty minutes later, David was back by the side of the road, only his car was nowhere in sight. Tiffany was beside him only she looked a lot less terrifying in his clothes. Still she had got by far the better end of the deal when they were forced to switch clothes in the back of the cop car. She was actually smiling as she watched David struggle to breathe in the clutches of her corset. Once the patrol car was out of sight, he started to remove her top but Tiffany just shook her head and began walking away.

“Someone else can walk in my heels tonight,” she called back. “I'm going home!” David stopped taking off his only barrier from the cold and sat back on the car behind him as he realised he had no idea where he was...

Vice of the Voiceless - Sam

 15/25

This is a new caption from the Pink and Prissy Collective storyline. The rest are on my index page.

I am playing around with different caption designs in an attempt to make them more readable. A few people have said my recent ones have been a bit difficult on the eyes and I want to fix that.

“You got Cassie's, didn't you?” Charlotte grinned at the sheepish looking Sam. She had waiting for him at the bus stop home from school and finally she had been rewarded with the terrified, silent student. “Let me see!” She snatched the notes her prey had instinctively reached for and read her fellow Pink n Prissy member's request aloud. “I want my sissy to be cute, sassy and fashionable....ha! What rubbish!?” She balled up the paper and threw it away. “Listen, I'm going to give you a little quid pro quo because Cassie is my best friend and, well, if she's happy, you might stand a chance of getting your whiny little voice back. You want that right?”

Sam nodded feebly.

“Good! Look, I'm not saying clothes don't matter, because they obviously do, but if you really want to get Cassie's heart racing and by proxy your tongue wagging again, you're going to need to step it up a notch.” Charlotte produced a small pink box from her purse. This should do it.” Sam gave her a pleading look as he took the gift, swallowing hard as he read the logo on the box, 'The Tushy Tickler.' “Don't worry,” Charlotte smiled widely, “there's lube in there too!”

The next day, Charlotte and her Pink n Prissy Collective co-member, Terri, were watching the bus stop once again from the privacy of a large tree. There was a solitary figure waiting on the bench, an apparent girl dressed stylishly in a white top and cardigan with a short skirt over a pair of glossy nylons, all pulled together with a large chequered scarf.

“Are you sure that's her, errrr...him?” Terri nudged Charlotte. “He looks almost too good. The other boys might be in trouble.”

“Of course it is,” Charlotte giggled, “no real girl would ever sit with her legs wide like that. Though I must say, they do look sensational. Anyway, there's one way to know for sure.” She pulled a small black keyfob from her pocket.”

Terri pursed her lips in excitement. “You know Cassie's going to lose it with you one day if you don't stop teasing her about that buttplug. Do you believe her about it being for torturing a boy?

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” Terri replied. “Hey, I wonder if Sammykins here followed through on your suggestion.” Charlotte gave her a wink and pressed the keyfob. Both girls had to stifle their laughter as the dolled up boy's formerly spread knees clenched together as he leaned his body forward in a first unearthly groan.

 

Working Woman

 14/25

Caleb closed the Skype call and sighed, the customer's face replaced by his own profile on the laptop screen. He brushed his long brown hair from his face and inspected his makeup carefully. An initial satisfaction at his increasing skill with cosmetics quickly subsided into shame as he viewed his immaculately plastered face. Pursing his lips, he wondered how it had come to this and despaired at the vanishing job market that would have usually offered him a way out.

Caleb was a veteran customer service representative for Glamazon, a colossal online store renowned for its agenda of female empowerment and women in the workplace. The board of directors were all women, every parcel was delivered by a female courier and should there be any problems with your product, you could talk face to face with a female representative. What the public didn't realise about this last part was that this experience was achieved through state-of-the-art filtering software that would transform the user's appearance, such as Caleb's, into that of an attractive woman. The software was expensive but it just wasn't practical to restrict the masses of entry level workers needed to fifty percent of the population. At least that was the case until recently, when due to the ongoing crisis, Glamazon were forced to close their offices and allow Caleb and his team to work from home. The news that the license for the female worker filter was only valid on company premises was delivered with a stern ultimatum of potential redundancy.

A pop-up indicating a fresh call caused a tightness in Caleb's chest. It was Bridgette, his line manager who unlike him was an actual woman, calling for his spot check. His hand quivered as he accepted the call and his boss's face appeared on the screen, rapt with glee.

“Oh, sweetie,” she simpered, “I just love how you've matched your lipstick with your blouse. You're leaning so fast. I am so proud.” Caleb instinctively hugged his body defensively. Bridgette was clearly enjoying every second but he was praying for the call to end. “Okay, now,” the woman on the screen adopted a stern expression, “you know what to do. I need to make sure you have 'everything' you need to do your job!” Caleb let out a defeated whimper and hesitantly pushed himself out of his seat and onto his towering heels so that Bridgette could see his whole body. She continued to bore her eyes into him and spun her finger in the international gesture that he should turn around. Awkwardly, he tottered around to give her a 360 degree view of his tight black mini-skirt and sheer silk stockings. Thankfully, when he finally returned to his starting position his line manager looked satisfied. “Good,” Bridgette smiled, “ can't have any more mishaps with you standing during a call and the customer seeing your horrid boy jeans, can we? By the way, I've had some more outfits sent over for you. They should arrive this afternoon. It's not right for a lady to wear the same clothes to work every day!” Caleb feigned gratitude and ended the call. He glanced at the time anxiously and hoped the delivery would come after his work day ended. There was nothing worse than answering the door dressed like this – especially to a Glamazon delivery.  

Auto-Pilot

 13/25

Half-way. There are a few more captions featuring Guru Self-Hypnosis on my index page (I think)

Dale fumbled nervously with the lip-gloss, applying it in thick layers with unpractised fingers tipped with long acrylic nails. He couldn't be late. Not today. He was on his final warning and one more screw up would leave him jobless in the worst economy he had ever known. He hurriedly tidied up his mouth with tissue paper and pouted into his compact before admiring his uniform in the full length mirror on the apartment wall...

To say budget airline 'JetBlack' had a misogyny problem was like saying Dale's new uniform was a 'bit short'. The air hostess's outfit rode up his fishnet covered thighs seemingly promising a glimpse of his underwear as it had done the legions of buxom stewardesses that had worn it before him. As a pilot, it had been his duty to ogle these beauties and take every opportunity to tell them how he wanted to land his jet on their runways. Unfortunately for Dale, the rest of his crew took their duties just as seriously and a sexual-harrassment suit was inevitably filed against the company.

According to the terms of the settlement, JetBlack were required to put their male pilots through workplace sexual conduct training and Dale and his colleagues soon found themselves in a room with a video presentation. 'Conquer your Misogyny with the Guru Self-Help Hypnosis' played on the projector screen before them, the syrupy sweet female voice oozing from the speakers and into their waiting ears.

Dale continued to stare at his refection. He looked so good. Much better than in that awful pilot uniform he had worn for years. Feeling extra confident, he tried on a pair of faux glasses that complimented his outfit wonderfully. He was still a little wary of being tardy but it was the details that pulled everything together. Besides, his extra efforts would certainly be appreciated. He sighed, pushed his hair back from his signature-air-hostess makeup plastered face and looked around for his flight bag. It couldn't be far. His apartment was much smaller now. The stewardess salary was much lower but he couldn't deny that he felt much happier. Ever since that training session with the Guru, everything had been much better.

Finally finding the bag, Dale slipped his feet into his neon high heels. A thought came to his head and a smile to his lips. He couldn't resist one final peek. Turning to face the mirror, he squatted down on his towering shoes and spread his stockinged legs wide so just the faintest peep of his matching neon panties showed in the refection. He grinned in appreciation of his scandalously short outfit. He couldn't wait to show the pilots on today's flight.

More Than Capable

 12/25

“I am sure your son is very capable Mrs. Patton, but the fact is we simply don't have any roles available for him – not permanent and certainly not for this weekend's convention.” The small blonde spoke in a measured and firm tone in stark contrast to the squawked rant just unloaded by Alistair's Mom. Alistair shifted uneasily in his seat. So far the conversation had taken place as if he wasn't even there despite the fact it was about him.

“Capable?!” Glenda Patton shrieked from across the desk in a manner that made him want to shrink from sight. “My Alistair is more than capable. In fact, if it wasn't for his recent knee surgery, he would be starting college on a basketball scholarship. He can do anything you need him to. He just needs a bit of a push when in comes to getting a job. That's why I'm here!” His Mom folded her arms adamantly.

“I understand,” the blonde woman replied. “But, as I already explained, we're simply not hiring right now.”

“Not hiring?!” Glenda nearly exploded. “Of course you're hiring. There's a poster right outside your office that says 'Staff Wanted', Not hiring indeed....”

The blonde woman sighed. “Mrs. Patton, those roles are just waitressing jobs for this weekend's convention. Obviously we can't legally state on the poster that we're only hiring girls but, I mean, we've already hired the uniforms.”

“Wait staff?!” his mother practically yelled. “Why, Alistair could do that standing on his head. He worked at Starbucks all through high-school. He's very capable. He just needs a chance. I'm sure you can make an exception, can't you? Unless you want me to report you for illegal hiring practices...”

That weekend at the convention, Alistair still couldn't decide who had stitched him up. Had his mother known this would happen when she insisted on the exception – a way to punish his ineptitude in the job market, or was the insistence he comply with uniform his new boss's revenge for Mrs. Patton's boorish behaviour. Either way, he was stitched up alright – stitched up in a maid's uniform and stockings – his lack of delight only equalled by the pleasure his co-workers took in doing his makeup.

“Alistair!” He snapped out of his concentration for not falling on his towering heels to see his blonde boss marching towards him. “What are you doing?” she beckoned sternly to the plates of cake in his hands. “Use a tray for God's sake!” she pointed to a pile under a table in the corner. Alistair glanced pleadingly at his injured knee he couldn't bend. “No buts!” the woman snapped. “You're more than capable!” No buts? Alistair wanted to cry. There would be plenty of butt for everyone when he leaned over at the hips to pick up trays in this tiny outfit..

No Peeking!

 11/25

Martin manoeuvred the General's muscular body through the doorway into the studio. Having spent a lifetime sitting in front of a computer, he had never had such a powerful physique and he was enjoying the experience. He only wondered why he never used the genetic scripting technology to make him an imposing masculine body before. It certainly beat grinding away for hours at the gym. Still, with the technology he had in his possession, he could be anything he wanted whenever he wanted. He was the Artist after all....

The foreign billionaire followed the Artist into the studio and whistled with excitement upon seeing what was waiting for him inside.

“General, as always, it is a pleasure to do business with the United States military.” He circled the latex clad redhead – his eyes almost popping from his skull. “You know, my sources told me that the military's alias project was no longer operational and you personally had been reassigned. Boy, is it good to be wrong. She is made to order, I presume?”

“Down to finest detail,” Martin smiled as he watched the woman shuffling around on her knees in obvious confusion. Her brand new and exposed breasts jiggled with every movement.

“Excellent,” the businessman licked his lips, “may I ask why she is blindfolded?”

“Of course,” the Artist scratched his perfectly square jaw. “Given your generous financial commitment to purchase our custom ordered...product on an ongoing basis, I thought it only fair that you be the first to witness the finished order.”

“You mean, she hasn't seen...” The billionaire grinned hungrily as Martin nodded in confirmation.

For the man formerly known as the General, the world was dark and confusing. Most troubling of all was waking after what seemed like a century to hear his own voice coming from somewhere across the room. He would have assumed it was a recording except it seemed to move around and say things he couldn't ever remember saying. Equally perplexing was the way his body felt. It seemed weak and soft and enveloped in some kind of cold stretchy material. And, why did his nipples hurt so Goddamn much?.

Martin smiled as he recognised the slow realisation forming on the former General's newly feminine face. The real dread would come later when he was free to explore his new existence with his eyes and hands. Only, he would be far from the only one exploring his new body if the rumours about the Artist's client were true. Still, it was a punishment fit for a man that had overseen the project than had sentenced Martin to being the company fucktoy for two years. Ms. Williams, however, she deserved something far worse...  

Balcony

 10/25

Time was of the essence and Billy knew it. He had just enough time to slip into something uncomfortable and snap a few selfies before his girlfriend came home from work. To squeeze the seconds he could spend squeezed into a dress, he had already picked out an outfit in his mind, a belted mini-dress that he had meticulously sized up last time Abi wore it and so with it draped over one arm, he raided his hiding place for a wig, makeup and appropriately sized heels and made for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged as Billie, tottering expertly on his platformed shoes, dark hair cascading over his bare shoulders and cosmetics delicately applied to a newly feminine face. After admiring himself momentarily in the mirror, he raised his phone to snap the first of many pictures for his Tumblr and then dropped his hands in frustration. The lighting was all wrong. The late afternoon sun was streaming into his tiny flat and making it impossible to catch himself in a flattering light. He groaned and then seeing Abi's sunglasses resting on top of the TV, he was struck with an epiphany.

Thrilled with his own ingenuity, Billy was feeling extra brave and snatching up the glasses, he pulled open the glass sliding door and made his way onto the balcony. It was small and the winter cold was biting but it would be all worth it if he got a few good shots. He held up the phone and took a picture. Checking the result, he sighed with disappointment. The glare from the sun was reflecting off the open glass door and ruining the shot. Quickly, he pushed the door closed and grinned with satisfaction that his picture was now perfect. It was only after a half dozen quality selfies that he realised his grave mistake. He had left the latch down on the sliding door and it had locked shut the second it clicked back into its closed position. The keys dangled from the other side of the glass – still swinging gently as if to taunt him. Billy shuddered in horror. His girlfriend would be home soon and he was trapped on their balcony trussed up to the nines in one of her dresses.

Once the futility of the situation had settled, Billy could only stare with defeat at his feminised reflection in the glass door. He had considered stripping naked but that would only pose more questions and the winter cold was already beginning to cut. He watched the minutes count down on the clock on their living room wall to his inevitable humiliation.. He couldn't for the life of him imagine how Abi was going to react. His madeup eyes fell to the calender beneath the clock and he saw a big ring around today's date. Oh right...tonight was the night Abi was bringing her girlfriends home from work for drinks. How had he forgotten? Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of the key in the apartment door and the chattering of female voices...

Reconstructed

 9/25

This is the newest caption to my Mannequeen series. The rest are on my index page

Lloyd Lake awoke in the seat of his excavator. The first rays of sunlight were just starting to peek over the horizon and bathed the construction site in a warm morning glow. Groggy, he glanced at his reflection in the vehicle's mirror and almost fell to the ground eight feet below. A delicate female face gaped back at him, pretty features curtained with soft blonde hair. He searched himself only to find a curvy body clad in shiny latex where his own gruff exterior would usually have been. Just as he was reaching a fevered panic, the radio on his dashboard began to play and a syrupy voice treacled out.

“Hello, Lloyd. I want to play a game. As much as it would please me no end to torture you for no other reason than being the brother of the treacherous Detective Lara Lake, I have a code to uphold. Fortunately...for me, you fit that code like you fit that sexy rubber outfit you're wearing. For the last six months, and I dare say your entire career, you and your co-workers have tormented every young lady that has passed your construction site with unsolicited comments, requests and cat calls. Well, Lloyd, it's time to see how you like being the cat. You have been fitted with a state-of-the-art female bodysuit that in one hour will bond to your skin forever unless it is unlocked. The key is hidden somewhere on site and to find it you will need to use your gut. You will see what I mean. Just follow what feels good. You have one hour...”

Lloyd was shaking with terror long before the voice ended but now he was almost hyperventilating. He struggled down the vehicle's steps on his ridiculous heels and gazed around the construction yard hopelessly. Finding a key would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. He took a small step left and stopped suddenly as a soft thrum began in his backside. In his initial shock, he hadn't noticed the full feeling in his stomach but now the vibrating buttplug had made its presence impossible to ignore. He stepped back and the buzz subsided. I have to embrace it if I don't want to be stuck as a bimbo forever, he realised in horror as a morning chill brought out goosepimples on his exposed buttcheeks.

Twenty minutes later and Lloyd was praying he was getting close. Through trial and error he had managed to consistently increase the intensity of the vibrations and now it was steadily jackhammering in his ass. He moaned softly as the pounding began to affect him in other ways. Oh God, he had never felt so horny in his life and with every step it got more frantic, more unbearable. His loins felt ready to burst. Looking ahead, he trembled as it became apparent where he was being lead. The trailer used as a yard office loomed in front of him and it was full of his co-workers getting ready for a days work. Panting, he approached, barely able to stand as the waves of pleasure washed over him. As the first worker came out of the building he could hardly remember what he had come here for.

“Hey, boys! Get out here!” The uniformed man removed his hardhat and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “This young lady looks set to burst. What do you say we give her a good drilling to relieve some pressure?!”