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.”

Washed Ashore

 6/25

Sandy rode the latest wave to the beach on his surfboard and shook his head in disbelief. They were still there... He glanced back into the sea to check if his friends were equally bemused but they were paddling around in the foam. He turned back to the girls.

“Give it up, Ariel. The current is way too strong for cute little things like you. You're going to get washed out to sea with those things.” He smirked as about a half-dozen high-school girls glared back balefully. They appeared to be some kind of swimming club for mermaid enthusiasts and were decked out in latex tails of various bright colours. However, the rough conditions were more than a match for their enthusiasm and they just couldn't get deeper than where the waves were breaking on the sand. Sandy rolled his eyes and headed back into the ocean.

“Bwahahaha”, he doubled over in laughter. It was five minutes later and he had just rode a monster all the way in just in time to see a girl with an orange tail get washed straight into her friend in a green one. They collided hard and squirmed around clumsily in the wet sand, unable to stand. “Those are the most ridiculous things I have ever seen,” he scoffed and headed back out.

By now, the wind was really picking up and the water was getting choppy. Sandy's friends decided to call it a day but determined not to let the girls see the ocean best him, he stayed. The next wave was enormous and despite catching it confidently, he found himself unstable at its crest and plunged forward over the front of his board. He surfaced, spluttering salt water just in time to see his surfboard careering straight for his head.

“Well, the good news is we saved your life...” Sandy awoke to the soft female voice. “The bad news...well, you can see for your self...” He tried to shake away his grogginess and was surprised to find he was looking down at the girls circled below him. A gust of wind blew his long surfer style hair across his face and he tried to brush it away but found his arms were stuck behind him. He looked down at himself and was filled with panic. His legs were also tied and his whole body was encased in one of the girls' pink latex mermaid tails. The shiny material wrapped his body like a thick film. He tried to cry out it protest but a ball gag muted him. “It turns out our tails are good for something after all – bringing arrogant surfer jerks down to size,” the girl smirked, “come on,” she beckoned to her friends, “the sea is getting too rough anyway.” Sandy's eyes went wide as he realised they were planning to leave him suspended from the back of the truck.

“Oh, you thought this was ours?” another girl laughed, “no, no, no...it's theirs”, she nodded to where a pair of weather beaten fisherman were unloading a boat further down the beach. “Word of caution...the ballgag is theirs too. We found it in the flatbed. Who knows what those guys are into... Bye now...”

Goods and Services Part 2

 5/25

Nate glared at the two chiselled guards blocking the door. Don't you know I once stood exactly where you do you stupid meatheads, he thought. You could be looking at your miserable fucking future! He grunted with frustration. The guards' eyes were covered with dark sunglasses but he knew they were staring at his tits. How could they not be? They were so full and perky. The guards were staring just as Nate had done so many times before when they belonged to their boss's wife. Of course, back then they weren't slathered with baby oil and bursting out from inside a latex nurse's outfit. They weren't firmly attached to Nate's chest either.

The handles of the wheelchair wrapped in his red rubber clad fingers offered needed support to his body as it threatened to topple forward under the heaving weight of his new breasts – a predicament made worse by the eight-inch heeled boots laced tightly up to just below the knee. As a result, his glistening cleavage was thrust forward invitingly and he knew that the guards were imagining burying their faces in it. Fools!? He wouldn't be the last to end up like this. The boss, as old as he was, was ruthless and greedy. Nate's new form was proof of how far he would go to get what he desired...to get revenge...

Up until a month ago, Nate himself had been muscle for Salvatore 'Big Sal' Rossi. The old man ruled everything around him with an iron fist and that included his security, but it also included his young blonde trophy wife. The beautiful Latitia had proved to be something of an Achilles' heel for Nate and the usually resolute guard fell under the spell of her feminine charms. When the buxom babe came to him asking for help escaping her tyrannical husband, he had obliged without a second thought. Now with plenty of time to regret his choice, it was Nate who was the buxom babe with the feminine charms courtesy of the Artist's genetic manipulation device.

After what seemed like hours in the white walled room holding the wheelchair and feeling like involuntary entertainment for the pair of security guards, a door opened and a regular woman wearing a regular nurse's uniform stepped in. She beckoned to him and with great discomfort he tottered over to her. Latex crackled and squeezed his jiggling body with every tiny step while his pert ass swayed side to side.

“Mr. Rossi is ready for his afternoon bubble bath,” the nurse stated professionally as if she wasn't talking to a ridiculous genetically modified bimbo. “Also, you'll need to give him his medication,” she handed Nate a small pot of assorted pills. “You'll need this too.” The woman presented a second pot containing a single blue pill and Nate's heart sank beneath his enormous chest. The nurse cleared her throat to keep his attention. “Mr. Rossi requested I check you are wearing the waterproof makeup he bought you, because, and I quote, 'I don't want that bitch's lippy coming off all over my dick in the tub'.” She blushed. “I believe the last Mrs. Rossi was rather skilled at aquatic fellatio.”

Goods and Services Part 1

 4/25

Had to make this one twice as my computer blue screen of deathed as I was about to save it. It is part of 'the Artist' series, which is in full on my linked caps page

zoli

“So this is who you are now? A mercenary selling his services to the highest bidder?” Ms. Williams spat from her position handcuffed to the leg of a laboratory desk.

“Huh?!” Martin followed her gaze to the security guard-turned-bimbo sitting against the wall and staring dumbly off into space. “You had no problem giving people what they wanted back when I was Bianca Beauchamp and what people wanted was to fuck me. At least now I can get paid for my creations...” He turned back to Ms. Williams and shook his head. “Don't worry, it will be your turn soon enough. Soon enough I won't even need to load you into the pod to manipulate your genes as I see fit.” He picked up a gun like device from the desk. “When this is finished I will be able to change who I like when I like where I like into whatever I like. No more of this cumbersome laboratory.”

Ms. Williams glared at him from behind her glasses and watched as the man who had become known as the Artist walked over to inspect his latest subject. She didn't know who he was, or rather, had been. When Martin had rolled him into the lab on a trolley he had been muscled and square-jawed like so many of the military men Martin had changed before but after being loaded into the genetic manipulation machine and shot with the by now familiar blue light, his former masculinity was a distant memory.

“Not bad, eh?” the Artist walked over for a closer inspection. “If I had a wife that looked like this, I would want her back after she ran away too.” He ran a thumb across his creation's plump lips before slipping it gently inside her mouth. The bimbo sucked instinctively while the eyes remained blankly staring ahead. “Excellent,” Martin grinned, “I expect my client will be making good use of that feature. He might need some Viagra though at his age.” He knelt so that his face was level with the former guard. “Sweetheart, I really hope you enjoy old man dick...because if you don't, you've got a long hard career as a trophy wife ahead of you.” He smiled at the hint of a twitch of the blonde's nose.

“You're sick,” Ms. Williams spat on the floor. “Don't get too used to playing God because it won't last. I've seen soldiers gangbang you stupid and I swear one day I will make you wish your life was that good again.”

“Oh but that's where you're wrong,” the Artist sneered. “I hold the power now – over you, over this dumb bitch and over anyone else who crosses my path. Now, Ms. Williams...” he pulled a pile of latex from a filing cabinet drawer, “how about you help me get my creation ready for her assignment? You can apply the lube!”

Ex-Conned

 3/25

A lighter dress-up cap for today. Trying not to top-load the mean ones. The Artist series will return on Saturday...

I'd been sleeping with Zoe for almost seven months when I found out she had a boyfriend. 'Don't worry,' she reassured me, 'he's in prison...for assault...' The alarm bells went off and I should've ended things there, but what can I say? Zoe was smoking hot and I was weak. And, besides, we were already living together by then. Well, technically we were living together before we even got together. I am a foreign exchange student from France. Claude, nice to meet you... Anyway, we were sharing a student house with two other girls and soon enough Zoe and I were sharing a bed and she was sharing the hard end of my...you get the picture. The point is after two weeks I had unofficially moved into Zoe's room.

I pushed the boyfriend issue to the back of my mind, as any red blooded young man would when confronted with a willing vagina, until one day when Zoe ambushed with a request for a favour. It seemed her cuckolded hoodlum of a beau was getting a few days of compassionate leave to attend his grandmother's funeral and was going to spending it here...with Zoe...and me. 'He's a jealous sort,' she explained, 'that's actually why he's in prison. He would hit the roof if he found out I was living in the same house as another guy.' I asked how he would react if he found out she was shagging one and she just stared back solemnly.

Zoe tried to get me to stay somewhere else for a few days but being from another country I didn't know anyone. I suggested just hiding in my room for a few days but that wasn't good enough. Apparently the visiting felon would want to meet her housemates to make sure none of them had dicks that could potentially find their way between her legs. Finally, she had the idea that I should've rejected immediately without even a second thought. An idea that would allow her boyfriend to meet her housemates and never suspect one of them was giving her the old sausage. An idea, that I reiterate, should never even have been considered, but got approved with the promise of some quid pro quo and the international blowjob hand gesture. What can I say...I'm weak.

The day her boyfriend was due to arrive Zoe got me ready in some of her clothes and a wig she had borrowed from a friend. She did my makeup and I am ashamed to say that I looked pretty cute. I have a small frame and quite gentle features and these combined to make me a more than convincing girl. I immediately made myself scarce in my room where I hoped I could wait out the next three days trying not to imagine what was going on in Zoe's bedroom. I managed this successfully until the final day. Nature called and I needed to make a dash to the bathroom. I scurried out of my room and froze like a mouse in front of the door at the sight of Zoe's boyfriend standing in front of me – all six foot two, tattooed and scarred, two hundred pounds of him.

“I'm Kevin,” he held out his hand and a smile cracked his face. “Looks like we're going to be housemates.” He seemed to notice my confusion and immediately looked apologetic. “I just got parole and I'm moving back in with Zoe. Grab your purse, sweetheart,” he winked at me, “I'm taking you girls out to celebrate!”

Liza's First Lesson (an Aiko story)

 2/25

I realised yesterday that I have an outside shot of hitting 5M site visits before this season ends. Exciting!!

Today we have a new Aiko caption. As always, the rest of the story is on the linked caps index page.

“I am sorry Aiko, but what is the point of this again?” Liza tried to hide the annoyance in her voice. She looked up from her position sprawled on the park lawn at the Japanese girl sitting in a deck chair sipping pink lemonade. She was dressed in one of the frilly kawaii outfits from Aiko's enormous suitcase with a boy they had met less than two hours ago in a matching dress with longer sleeves nuzzling into her left shoulder.

“Oh Liza sweetheart,” Aiko cooed. “You have done amazing work so far. But with my help we can achieve something incredible. Think of this as your training and me as your Sensei. Your first lesson is to become one with your subject. Look at him. How do you think he is feeling?”

“Uh,” Liza tried to pull her attention from the gawking strangers in the park to the prissified boy next to her. She had a good idea how he felt. She had never felt so stupid in all her life. The thick cotton stockings itched and the petticoats under her dress kept riding up uncomfortably. “I feel like an alien. Nothing about this feels right. Every part of this outfit makes it impossible to feel remotely normal. And everyone is watching.” She looked up to see a young man walking some dogs stop to stare at them.

“Precisely,” Aiko beamed. “Now imagine all that except it's the only way to satisfy the most intense cravings of your entire life. You are compelled to embrace this alien existence by your own body betraying you for another taste of my sweet candy. By the way, I think Robin has earned another bite, don't you?”

“Here...” Liza pulled out the tube of heart-shaped candies from under her dress and offered one to the boy. For a moment their eyes met and beneath those thick long lashes she saw terror, desperation and shame all rolled into one. Robin snatched the sweet and gobbled it up and Liza watched as he fidgeted first with the wig, then the sleeves of his dress, then he scratched his stockings while shuffling his kitten heels into the grass. She looked back to Aiko. “Every part of the outfit is important,” Liza proclaimed, “every detail contributes to the experience. Every discomfort is a subtle reminder of who they are.”

“No,” Aiko grinned widely, “of 'whose' they are!. Good! You are making progress. Remember though, these boys are not our prisoners but guests to our special world. The outfits aren't shackles but merely reminders of that.” She smiled warmly at Robin, who appeared to shrink further under Liza's arm. “However it's important that you understand their discomfort so you can appreciate how far they will go for a bite of candy. Now, let's get you out of that silly outfit.” She slurped the last of her lemonade and smiled sweetly. “Not you Robin.”

Defiance

 1/25

Starting out mean. Probably gonna get meaner as the season progresses...

“Oh, come now, I know you like it really. Why else would you keep coming back to me?” Mistress Honeypot adjusted a long black glove and smiled wickedly. “Just embrace it. The more you resist, the harder I am going to make it for you!” And with a wrinkle of her nose her subject's breasts grew another size.

“Ohhhh!!” Sandro moaned as his knees buckled. The towering heels he was perched on caused him to lurch forward resulting in his brand new shiny round ass jutting up for his mistress's pleasure. Every inch of his ridiculous bimbofied body rippled with electricity and he had to fight to keep his mind clear. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes begging for mercy, but the tall imposing woman before him remained unmoved. The fire in his skin centred around a furnace between his legs and he fought with everything he had left to resist the urge to slip his slender acrylic tipped fingers beneath the pink spandex thong and work his throbbing clitoris.

“I will get you in the end,” Mistress Honeypot sighed and paused to listen to him pant. “I always get what I want. And once you succumb and rub that pretty little pussy into a frenzy, you will be stuck with the body you have when those sweet cries of ecstasy roll over those plump dick suckers you have.” She clicked her fingers and as if to prove a point, Sandro's already sizeable lips fattened even further giving him a permanent pout. “Ultimately you're only making this worse for yourself. If you weren't so stubborn, you would have had a splendid little female body to enjoy – now look at you! You're going to spend the rest of your life as a walking wet dream.”

“Hhhhhuuhhh,” Sandro gasped and tried desperately to stand up straight but the giant globes hanging from his chest weighed him down and he only succeeded in tilting his head back. A long bleached-blonde ponytail cascaded down his back and settled between his ass cheeks setting off a whole new level of desire from within him. His mind blurred and he found himself fantasizing about having his hair pulled as something long and hard parted his backside. “No!!” he cried, “FOCUS!” The dominatrix's laughter broke his thoughts and he realised in horror he had screamed out loud. Regret seized him in that moment. Why did he have to take his dirty little orgasm denial fetish from camgirls to the real deal? Hands off...hands on. Red light...green light. He wished he had given himself a hands off or a big red light the second he found Mistress Honeypot on OnlyFemmes and started typing out the DM to send her.

“I must say, I am impressed!” The tall woman smiled coldly. “No man has ever lasted this long before...” She snapped her fingers and Sandro's tits ballooned another three sizes until they heaved against the soft fabric that housed them. His face flushed with a cocktail of pleasure and shame. “But you what they say...the bigger they are, the harder them cum!” She placed her hands on her hourglass hips as her new bimbo collapsed onto the white leather sofa, tore off the pink thong and frantically jammed four fingers into a waiting, gushing mound.

Season 6 Prologue (Whatever Happened to the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 1)

 0/25

Surprise!! Not a Flashback Friday but a whole new set of captions. I think I have been a bit mean this time around. Not deliberately but it just ended up that way and a lot of my 'nicer' ideas got pushed back to the next batch because I accidentally made too many.

Today we have the prologue and it is the first part of a story that will run right through the season. It is a continuation of Pink n Prissy series, which you can find on my index of linked captions. I hope you enjoy what's to come...

zoli

The Pink n Prissy Collective huddled around the campfire. Wrapped in a faux-fur lined coat, the girly-girl Cassie cosied up to the leather jacketed tomboy Terri as she flicked through photos of their recent haul of sissies. The last remaining of these prissified boys sat next to them- still unable to speak after his friends had been released from their silence by the antidote to the vocal chord freezing serum. Clad in a short skirt and heels, Sam shivered against the cold and burned with humiliation. He shuddered as Charlotte waved a small pink box at him from across the fire. The tushy tickler was no longer rammed in his backside but the painful aftermath was still being felt. The blonde girl opposite turned her attention to Cassie, shaking the buttplug in its container and winking, receiving a roll of the eyes in response from her fellow Collective member.

“Alright, girls,” Josie stood above them holding a smore. “It has been a few years since we did this.” She smiled sadly. “It had been a few years since we did any of the fun things we have done recently. You see Sammy-kins, as wonderful as it was sissifying you and your friends – good ole' times and all that – we didn't do it just to torture you. There is method to our meanness after all. No, actually we need your help.” Sam looked up at her startled.

“You see, Sam,” Terri took the lead. “We've been dormant for four years and we need your help to fix that. But before we can tell you what we need, we need to tell you why we've been laying low.”

“You'll get your chance to earn back your voice,” Josie continued, “but first you need the facts. You need to know about Stephanie and Kirsten.” She paused to take a bite of marshmallow. “I wasn't always the leader of this merry little group. First there was Stephanie – you think we are mean, well, you should have seen Steph... Okay, long story short, we kicked her out and she did not take it well...”

“Next came Grace,” Charlotte took over, “and sadly, she picked the wrong boy to stuff in a dress. What seemed like a routine sissification went badly wrong and the boy's maniac older sister got involved and...well, let's just say we don't see Grace any more...”

“The point is, Sam,” Cassie looked him solemnly in the eye, “we had two hardcore women gunning for revenge against us and what happened next shaped the last four years of our lives. We brought you here tonight for a campfire story. I know that you didn't come willingly, but I beg that you listen so that you understand what needs to happen next. Listen carefully, because we're going to tell you a tale of betrayal, revenge and sex. And it all begins with a sissy...”