Whatever Happened to the Bimbo Note? (Flashback Friday)

 Well, we've recapped guys and girls and even a cat so now we go one step beyond and look up a book. Not just any book, but the Bimbo Note. The original story is here Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

"Everyone's a smartass...right, Azalea?"

"Arggghh!!" Azalea shrieked and spun around to face what she thought was her empty apartment. Her back had only been turned for a few seconds while she set up her camera tripod to film her latest video for her OnlyFemmes profile. No way had anyone got in. And yet, gazing at her calmly like it was the most normal thing in the world, was a delicate raven-haired girl in a corset and long socks sitting right in the middle of the sofa. A large book rested in her hands. Unimpressed, Azalea placed her hands on her hips, showing no shame for the black latex catsuit she had donned for her planned fetish video. "What in the flying fuck are you doing in my flat?!"

"Why, to give you this of course," the girl held out the hardback, "I'm Rook by the way." She smiled sweetly but Azalea just stood there frowning and creaking in the vinyl outfit. "I assure you it is completely safe – to you anyway. After the last owner's...hmmm...misfortune I have chosen a successor very carefully. I have chosen you Azalea."

"Let me see that," Azalea strode over expertly on the towering stripper heels and plucked the book from Rook's delicate fingers. Brushing her long white-blonde hair from her heavily madeup face, she opened to the first page with her gloved hands. A list of names was scrawled down the ghostly white paper beginning with Colin Pertwich at the top followed by countless more she didn't recognise. She turned the page and paused. The name of the former President of the United States was printed at the top of the second sheet of paper. Azalea's eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at her visitor. "Is this what I think it is?"

"The one and only," Rook grinned. "I had to rescue that from a locked room in Area 51, you know? Such a waste. The Bimbo Note has far too much mischievous potential to be left to gather dust. And so now it's yours – to wreck havoc wherever you see fit – to redefine the world around you – to consign all whom you see fit to a life of bimbodom. Bouncing tits, pouting lips, throbbing clits...the world is your oyster...neh! The world is your personal Barbie doll factory. Everyone is a smartass...until their name ends up in that book!" She watched a smile spread across Azalea's lips as she realised the power of the object she now possessed.

"Thank you," Azalea was almost cackling – a fiery energy burning in her eyes. "Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for trusting me."

"Bitch please," Rook snorted. "Trust you? The only thing I trust you to do is to fill that thing with names. I'm giving it to because if your name somehow ends up in there – and the last three owners' have – I don't see how you can become any more of a bimbo than you already are. Trust you indeed..."

Whatever Happened to Scott? (Flashback Friday)

 I have been quite gentle recently so here's a mean one for all you sadists out there. This is a flashback to Blood Honey.

Friday is here once more so let's take a look see at who is a getting a light reshone on their femme fate this week. Scott was a mob hitman and over his illustrious career he silenced many a target for the notorious kingpin, 'The Don', however, upon announcing his retirement as his boss's favourite marksman, Scott too found himself silenced, albeit somewhat differently. Instead of riding off into the sunset, he awoke to find that his former employer had repurposed his pension towards transforming him into one of the Don's glamorous poolside escorts. Let's see how retirement is treating Scott, shall we...

Scott gazed up from his kneeling position at the assault rifles pointing down at him and slowly raised his hands behind his head. He had looked down plenty of gun barrels in his long career but never anything like this. The South California sunshine felt sweltering from inside his fur jacket and the asphalt bit into his knees even through the leather of his thigh high boots. With his arms raised he felt completely exposed and crowds of onlookers stopped to gape at his sexy feminine body in the virginal white bathing suit – the designer one-piece stretched tight over his smooth crotch. Scott took one last look at the SWAT team surrounding him and cast his eyes to the ground in shame.

That fateful afternoon was the first time Scott had been outside the Don's compound in over four years. After waking up in his own surgically enhanced personal nightmare, he quickly found out that his body hadn't been repurposed into a wet dream for mere aesthetic pleasure. No, the Don had bigger plans. A small fortune had exchanged hands to turn Scott into a sun-bleached babe with killer tits and a pretty pussy and the mobster was damn sure going to get his money's worth. As such Scott would join the ranks of the Don's private army of silent hookers kept on hand to satisfy the needs of guests and to pay the occasional bribe when needed. Stripped of his former physical prowess, Scott was easily kept in check by the mob's bodyguards and a constant slew of potent cocktails. Provided only with a poolside cabana and a wardrobe of revealing swimwear, he was expected to be available to satisfy any number of his captor's associates with his mouth, ass or brand new pussy and when after months of constant use they became stretched and raw, he was sedated for a visiting surgeon to tighten him back up. The days after these procedures were always the worst – his enhanced body parts hugging mafia cock tighter and more painfully that ever before. These were the days that simply would not fade into the drug induced blur.

It was one of these days of heightened awareness that the Don's compound was raided by a SWAT team. In the firestorm of swirling bullets, Scott found himself running out into the street along with dozens of others of his former employer's creations. He didn't get more than a few hundred yards down the street when he was met by two heavily armed agents who seemed to know exactly who he was.

"You know that is the formidable Switchblade Jones?" The first agent nodded to his partner as they watched Scott raise his hands above his head. "He doesn't look so tough now... Hey, you reckon he'll end up in a men's or women's prison? I guess it doesn't matter. Looking like that he'll be plenty popular either way..."

Whatever Happened to Mr. Tibbles? (Flashback Friday)

 I am really enjoying captioning right now. The new season of caps is more than half done and I don't remember being this excited about posting new stuff. I am hoping to have them ready to start uploading by the start of June.

In the meantime, we have a flashback to this caption from 2015...

It's nearly the weekend but before you make your escape to enjoy your well-earned freedom, join me to check in with someone not so lucky. Today for the first time we revisit not an unfortunate young man but rather a furry feline from a past caption. Mr. Tibbles was the beloved cat of the magical Clarissa as she punished her brother for leaving her poor puss out in the cold. Six years may have passed but a new sissy is born every minute so let's see who has fallen foul of some kitty justice this time...

The piano stopped playing and Max found he could finally control his body once more. I say 'his body' with the caveat that the supple ballerina's frame he occupied was certainly not the one he woke up with that morning. The rest of the class were stretching and drinking water and so Max glanced around for a potential escape. It was hopeless. The music would inevitably restart before he got anywhere near the door and his role as marionette would commence all over. His head swivelled desperately and he spotted something else just outside the studio window. Prancing across the room in his ballet slippers, he glared at the cat that had landed him in such a humiliating situation.

“Awww look who it is, Mr. Tibbles.“ Clarissa picked up her cat lovingly and held him up to the glass for a better view. “It's Maxy-poo, the mean boy who let his nasty dog chase you around the park. Well, he doesn't look so mean now, does he? No he doesn't.” She nuzzled her cat's soft fur. “He looks like a cute little ballet dancer. How about you do a pirouette for us Maxy-poo?”

Max stood motionless, his cheeks burning red and his delicate hands clenched into slender fists.

“Oh, don't worry...” Clarissa met his gaze and wrinkled he nose, “you'll be spinning for us again soon enough. How do you like your outfit by the way? It is a gorgeous fit.” Max blushed even harder, becoming hyper aware of the tutu splayed around his tiny waist and the skin-tight leotard pinching into his buttcheeks. He lowered his head in shame and instantly regretted it as his soft pink ballet slippers came in to view.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Clarissa cooed with mock-sympathy. “You look simply lovely in tights. Much better than in those dirty jeans. I bet they smelled of dog.” She looked him up and down again until her eyes settled on his lycra covered crotch. She grinned wickedly in a way that made Max feel two inches tall. “Well, almost nothing..,” In spite of the pixie-esque dancer's body she had bestowed him with, she had let him keep one key part of his male anatomy – a key part that now stretched the material below his tutu and created quite the distraction for the teacher and frankly everyone in the class. He had felt their eyes boring into him as the music paraded his body around the room for all to see. “What's that, Mr. Tibbles?” Clarissa cocked an ear to her cat. “Oh, I agree, bones are for dogs.” She winked at Max. “One thing I will say for dogs though...they are very obedient...just like you.” The piano started up again and Max felt his body pirouetting him away from the window.

Whatever Happened to Charlie? (Flashback Friday)

 Partying partying YEAH!

What you thought you had got rid of me?

Well I am bringing back Flashback Friday until I have enough captions for a new season. First up we go way back to one of my first captions. You can read the Volunteer here.

Zoli

For our first Flashback Friday in what seems like forever we delve deep into the annals of sissy history to catch up with one of our earliest feminised specimen. You may remember Charlie as a wet behind the ears freshman fratboy who inadvertently volunteered himself to be the live in maid at his fraternity's sister sorority house – Alpha-Sigma-Kappa, and if you do, it's nice to see you're still here. Anyway, six years have passed so how about we take a look whatever happened to Charlie...?

Charlie shut off the noisy vacuum cleaner and smiled at a job well done. He adored the first day of term. The girls would be here soon and the red carpet was awaiting their return, as was the rest of their spotless house – courtesy of their much loved sorority mascot...Charlie.

He still had vague memories of his initial horror at volunteering to be a sissy maid. Six years is not nearly long enough for such humiliation to fade, however, once he had got used to the discomfort of the uniform and learned to walk in heels, he found that there was a fairly big upside. More female attention than he had ever received before in his life was suddenly thrust upon him. So what if they were doing his hair or teaching him how to apply makeup? They were spending time with him. And as he got better at doing his own cosmetics and as his hair grew out, he found that they continued to spend time with him. He was an ear to unload on, a shoulder to cry on and an honest opinion when it came to outfit choices. All this inspired him to work hard with his chores and build trust with the girls.

This didn't go unnoticed by the sorority leaders and Charlie was rewarded with a new uniform, visits from beauty students to upgrade his image and the occasional handjob. The absurdity of what he was doing disappeared into the background and he quickly felt less like someone who merely cleaned the furniture and more like part of it. At the end of the school year Charlie became the first ever live in sissy maid to volunteer for a second term and the first ever sophomore to take the position. Now a second year medical student, he was in his sixth year with Alpha-Sigma-Kappa.

Charlie heard cars pulling up outside the house and instinctively put the vacuum nozzle down. He checked his makeup and outfit in a nearby mirror. He rubbed his eyebrows gently with his glove. They stung a little from being waxed. Next, he smoothed down his apron and examined his legs for any rogue hairs. How could he possibly keep a house in check if he couldn't keep himself up to standard? Doors were opening and closing downstairs now and the same old butterflies gathered in his stomach. He danced in his heels before composing himself and walking to the top of the stairs. The girls were gathered in the hall surrounded by their bags. They looked up to see him watching them from the balcony. Charlie spread his arms wide and his smile wider. “Welcome home!”

Crumbs (a Liza story)

 25/25

Thank you for all the reads and comments over the last six weeks. I hope to back soon but a busy month has meant that the next season is only about a third done so far. I have a few surprises for you in the meantime though so see you shortly.

As always, the rest of the Aiko/Liza captions are on the index page.

Zoli

Ryan's stomach fell when he saw Liza stop outside the front of her house and place the box of cupcakes on the floor. He had simpered behind her for twenty-five blocks, his shame paraded for all the world to see in frills and ruffles, and just as a sanctuary seemed to be arriving, it was snatched away.

“We're not going in?” he asked timidly, barely recognising the voice coming from his mouth. His trademark sarcastic boast had been well and truly broken since he first sampled that spiked apple tart inside the four walls before him, and now his words felt as soft as the knickers that caressed his butt. His resolve had been pathetically short. No sooner had he finished his slice, the cravings began – his skin itching and sweating, his joints aching and shivering. He need more. A need Liza had been happy to service...for a price.

“Oh, you...” Liza giggled. “You look fit to demolish these cupcakes. My step-dad might be a French maid now but I doubt he wants to clean up the crumbs you're going to make, do you?”

At the mention of the promised treats, Ryan's memory of the last three torturous hours almost vanished. Almost... Liza had taken him to the mall, where step by step he had been transformed into the plaything of her dreams. First, a trip to the salon to have his hair washed and remodelled into a fancy feminine cut, then to a beautician to have his face and nails painted and finally to a boutique to be fitted in a set of frilly vintage underwear. Even as it was crushed by the merciless corset, his stomach begged for more of Liza's treats and when afterwards they stopped at a patisserie to buy cupcakes he was almost able to ignore the staring onlookers around him. Almost...

“Just one final touch.” Liza removed a sachet from her pocket and sprinkled it over the cupcake icing. Ryan instinctively knew that it was what is body was by now begging him for and he took a step forward. He no longer cared about waiting for the privacy of her house. He wanted salvation now, no matter how short lived it would be. “Enjoy!” Liza took a step back from the box and smiled widely as her prey rushed over and began devouring the treats inside. It wasn't ladylike but there was plenty of time for that. Bite by bite, Ryan eviscerated the desserts in front of the white brick building as she snapped photos for her blog. Suddenly, he stopped mid-mouthful and for a moment she worried he was going to choke. But instead he stood up straight and looked at something over her shoulder. Liza turned around.

“Hi there!” A tiny Japanese girl stood before them, an enormous suitcase under each arm with bits of colourful fabric poking through the zippers. She placed one down carefully and offered out her hand to Liza. “My name's Aiko. I love your work! Do you think I could stay with you a while?”

Eat It or Wear It

 24/25

It had been nearly four years since the Network's final transmission. For almost a generation the broadcaster had provided the public with a host of feminisation themed gameshows until it was abruptly invaded by Femnonymous and taken off the air in 2016. The entertainment giant left a gaping hole in the market as well as in the lives of its legions of fans – a hole that would be filled by the rise of the social media era gameshow.

The new era would eventually come to be dominated by the video sharing platform known as OnlyFemmes. The new generation of shows were low budget and crude but satisfied a starving audience. Their DIY nature meant that production was laughably cheap, prizes were non-existent and, not surprisingly, contestants were unwilling. One such popular prissy pirate show was know as SweetTooth...

Dean looked up at the girl holding the 'Don't look at the camera' sign and instinctively glanced at the tripod mounted recording equipment. She glared at him before softening her features into mock pity. Humiliation surged from within him and his eyes fell to his bare,shaved thighs. Dean felt ill – not just because of the vast quantities of junk food he had consumed, or because of the waning effects of the sedative used on him as he was leaving work but also because of the degrading position he now found himself in- primped and painted and stuffed into a summer dress while the whole world watched on.

A blonde girl of about college age circled him and spoke confidently into the camera. “Let's remind those at home how well Dean has done so far, shall we? He has eaten six chocolate muffins, a dozen donuts, an apple pie and an entire five litre tub of cookie dough ice-cream. Remember, the food can either go in his mouth or over his head, and if Dean doesn't choose, well, then we share his credit card details with all you lovely folks at home. Here on SweetTooth, you can't have your cake and eat it, but you must have one or the other. Next up, we have a family sized banana pudding. What do you say Dean? Eat it or wear it?”

Dean wanted to throw up. His stomach pressed against the fabric of the dress and the panties he had been crammed into dug into his skin.. In a meek voice he let out a defeated “wear it”. His blonde host pretended not to hear so he forced out another declaration and closed his eyes. He could practically feel the host's glee as she rounded him, dessert in hand. Moments later his wig was being plastered to his skull my cream and banana that proceeded to pour down his madeup case and onto his ridiculous outfit. He shuddered at the thought of how many of his friends and colleagues were watching him squirm beneath the messy pudding and layers of female clothing. His thoughts were interrupted by heavy breathing and he opened his eyes to see two more girls struggling to carry in a giant saucepan of honey for his next challenge.