The Purest Gift Part 2

 

“To be worthy of the Gift, you must be pure! To be pure, you must face your past transgressions!. You must endure... Will you endure. Laurence?” The voice echoed and expanded into a hollow whistle, and Laurence's bubble expanded with it. Growing until it filled the cavern, it seemed to paint the walls with sky and the ground with snow until with a shrill pop, he realised he was outside.

Laurence scanned the horizon of endless farmland covered in snow. He knew this place. He'd been here years ago. Switzerland... Suddenly, he realised why his reflection in the bubble had been so familiar...Gloria!

Laurence tried to move forward and almost fell head first into the snow. The skis attached to his feet having not been there seconds before, felt alien and only the poles that had appeared from nowhere in his hands, saved him. There was a squeaky crackle and the shiny material of his snow-suit rubbed painfully across his body...up his legs, over his ass...his breasts. No, this was wrong!? How could he be Gloria?!

Gloria had been a young tv soap actress Laurence had a brief fling with years before. She had been a whirlwind of energy and ambition, but she had also been desperate...insecure. Laurence had told her he could use his power to open doors for her. All she had to do for him was...

The details of the trip to Switzerland formed in Laurence's memory. The latex ski-suit he had picked out for Gloria – him insisting she be completely naked underneath. She had done as he asked of course and Laurence had ignored her forced smile to stare at her ass all day as she uncomfortably shifted from one ski to another. Laurence's mouth went dry as he remembered the other thing he had insisted on.

The steel buttplug made him feel fuller than he had ever been in his life. It was if were being split in two. He groaned low and feminine and steam blew from his pink lips. He had made Gloria ski 20 miles in nothing but a latex catsuit with a plug jammed up her ass, and never given her the fame she wanted. And now he was Gloria? Was this the cleansing the waif spoke about? Would he have to make the same journey? He tried to push himself forward over the white powder and it was immediately apparent that he was far weaker that he was used to. Gloria's slender frame held a fraction of the strength of his toned body. He managed five meters before dropping his poles to the snow and putting his hands on his rubber clad knees with exhaustion. As he did so, the buttplug shifter awkwardly in his ass. Holy shit, the Gift better be worth it, he thought gritting his teeth.

The Purest Gift Part 1

 This is a commission I did for DeviantArt

Noone knew what the Gift was – yet everyone knew it was worth having. They knew it was worth sacrificing everything to find it. The legendary treasure hidden somewhere in the caves just outside the Italian village of Femini attracted thousands of would be adventurers from around the world every year. Each desperate to be the one to discover the mythical artefact and reap its priceless rewards. Yet the caves that held the supposed prize were expansive and treacherous and many an experienced explorer had plundered their depths and never been seen again. Even still, every year that passed brought a fresh wave of heroes hunting fame and fortune.

None came more determined than Laurence Dodd – a billionaire playboy adrenaline junkie who rarely encountered a desire he couldn't buy or an obstacle he couldn't steamroller. The Gift was one of such rare treats that eluded him and so his need to acquire it had grown into something of an obsession.

Laurence's latest attempt was his most determined yet. Despite, plunging himself into the caverns alone, he made good progress over a number of days through the depths. He was no stranger to using people or exploiting assistance to get what he wanted, but he took no chances when it came to searching out the Gift. He could think of nothing worse than being made to share the treasure or worse, the recognition for finding it.

In spite of his progress, the caves had been a rough mistress and by the time Laurence reached a wide underground opening on the fifth day of his excursion, he was covered in dirt and bruises, bleeding from numerous places including one of his ears, and almost out of both food and drink. Upon noticing that the latest cavern was full of large bubbles floating out of a small rock-pool of glowing turquoise water, he thought he was hallucinating. It didn't help when the ethereal form of a waif of a woman appeared in one of the bubbles and started to speak to him.

“You must be tired,” she said softly, “you must be determined to have persevered this far. You must really want the Gift.” Laurence's attention peeked at the mention of his quarry. “But are you worthy of the Gift? You must be pure! You must be cleansed of your transgressions! You must be tested to see if you are worthy, but first you must be cleansed! Shall I cleanse you, Laurence?” The bubble rose above him and he nodded. Even as his head continued to bob, another huge bubble floated towards him and encapsulated his body. Instantly, the dirt, the bruises, the cuts and blood, all vanished and his skin was washed smooth. It became soft. It became feminine. Laurence saw his reflection in the surface of one of the bubbles and a beautiful woman stared back. He thought he recognised the face but his mind was swimming with the shock of what was happening. “Good!” The waif stared at him from her bubble. “Now you are ready to be tested!”  

Under the Influence Part 7

 The rest of this story so far is on my index page

By now, Brody had many regrets. He had after all allowed himself to be blackmailed by his sister into becoming her own personal Youtube Barbie, and worse, his subsequent revenge plot had backfired badly and he now found himself the subject of a nationwide sissy bounty hunt where every domme in the country believed he would be paying them 10k to make him their slave. What was it the OnlyFemmes post said? No safewords, no mercy? However, more than any of that, in that moment, he regretted clicking on Lady Radius's profile.

Claire's post complete with his name and address was still fresh on his screen, but already hungry dominas had begun licking their lips and posting comments on the bounty post. One mistress, Lady Radius, seemed particularly keen to claim her rewards and thinking she couldn't be all that bad, Brody clicked into her OnlyFemmes profile. It was that bad! The images were only on the screen a second but it was enough to scar him and spark him into action. Endless screenshots of helpless feminised sissies...metal and leather...chains and whips...throbbing dildos...bulging eyes. Brody shuddered. He had to get out of here now.

Quickly, he threw off the frilly dress he had put on to use his computer and looked for something more inconspicuous to wear. Catching sight of his undressed body in a mirror, he was reminded of how soft and curvy he had become from the hormones he had been taking to try to pass as Claire and his desperation to find appropriate clothing became all the more desperate. Of course, he had mailed all his own clothes to his sister as part of the blackmail but besides this, most of the outfits Claire had selected for his influencer career were ridiculous and over-the-top. The best he could find was a smart white blouse and and leather skirt he had been made to dress in for a work-wear video and so he pulled them on and stuffed a handful of other clothing into the biggest purse he had. Seeing that his grown out hair had become loose and his makeup smudged in his panic, he tossed some cosmetics into the bag, climbed into some heels and headed for the door.

Brody had tried on hundreds of outfits for thousands of people through the supposed 'comfort' of his webcam but not since his tormenting night promoting 'Ripped Gene's' had he been outside en femme, and even that wasn't during daylight. Now, exiting his building, even knowing how convincing his transformation was, he felt horribly exposed. Knowing that an army of mistresses were out there desperate to make him their bitch only exacerbated things. Clutching his purse in one hand, he peered out from behind a stone pillar at the crowds of people going about their daily lives, no idea what to do next. He suddenly realised that he had not put any panties back on after his revealing webcam show and a breeze crept up his flowing skirt and around his hormone shrivelled manhood. Whatever he was going to do, he couldn't stay here and he certainly couldn't go home. Friends and family obviously weren't an option in his current state so he needed to lay low while he figured things out. He had a little money so maybe he could stay at a local hotel for a few days while he ordered some men's clothes and turned himself back to his normal self. There's no way he could regret that...right?!

Whatever Happened to Jared and Rory? (Sissy vs Sissy vs Sissy)

 The full story including the original Sissy vs Sissy is on my index page

The water was warm. And there were bubbles...lots of bubbles – enough to cover their naked bottoms. These were about the only positives of bath day – truly the smallest of small mercies. Jared and Rory sat in the tub facing each other – each a living feminised reminder of the other's predicament.

Anna had removed their underwear bottoms but left their bras on, Rory in black and Jared in white, as they were effectively redundant but for furthering their humiliation, and had taken great pleasure in leading them to Aunt Clarissa's bathroom on their hands and knees via matching dog leashes she had fixed round their necks. The size of the bath meant that both boys were forced to kneel in the water so she made the best of this by making them lean all the way back while she scrubbed at them with a large sponge. Relief had flooded their faces when she had revealed they could remove the buttplugs for their wash but the tiny cock cages remained on and Anna had smirked wickedly at seeing the boys' imprisoned dicks strain against their restraints as she took her time rinsing their bodies. By now they had spent a maddening amount of time in chastity and her touch was clearly too much for them to handle. She tried to imagine their shame and frustration at having their bodies betray them for the very person responsible for their degradation and grinned even wider.

“Maybe we need to start milking you...” Anna said thoughtfully as she adjusted the cat ears atop Rory's head and almost burst into laughter at the sudden hopeful expression in his eyes. “Or maybe you should milk each other...” The expression turned to anger and then quickly to shame. Anna parted the bubbles and cupped Rory's groin as if it were a wounded kitten. “We can't keep our precious sissies with blue balls can we?” She raised one eyebrow and leaned close to the horrified sissy's face, keeping her hand wrapped around his genitals and smirking as she felt their futile bulge. Without warning, Rory gave a sudden shudder and shot out a leg, catching Jared on the hip. “Well, that wasn't very nice!”

“I'm sorry!” Rory stammered. “I didn't mean to – it was an accident!”

“Nevertheless...” Anna shook her head and stood back from the bathtub. “I think it is important you make amends!” She giggled at the sorrowful gaze Rory offered his friend, knowing it wasn't for what he had done but for what was to come. “I think you should show how sorry you are with a big apologetic kiss!” Rory stared at her hesitantly. “And if you don't, well, I am sure Aunt Clarissa will teach you some tenderness this evening.” Anna grinned triumphantly as her two obedient toys slowly lent in with their lips parted.  

Rules of Disengagement Part 3

 

And so Michael and Sara were reunited, alas with a brand new dynamic to their relationship. As unable to satisfy her as he had been as a man, he was more than equipped to do so as her sissy. Sara was not a natural dominant even though she knew the sight of Michael's humiliation made her tremble in ways he had never managed before, and so Steph was more than willing to train her sister how to embarrass, debase and degrade the man in her life. She no longer lived with them, but she was always on hand to lend her advice, her firm hand across Michael's backside or even her used panties for his afternoon snack.

And what choice did Michael have? The circumstances of his housing situation hadn't changed and he was glad to have Steph out of his home – at least most of the time. Sara didn't detest him as Steph did. She even loved him again in a weird way. But things were not as they once were by any stretch of the imagination. The dress had become his uniform and Steph had supplied a collection of equally humiliating alternatives. Michael never did find out what became of his actual clothes. He was able to move out of the basement and back into the bedroom but even that wasn't the blessing it might have been. As Sara got better at being dominant, it just meant that his submission was more complete, his fiancee able to play her games with him all night as well as during the day.

It was on such a day that Steph visited her sister to give a graduation of sorts to her apprentice. Michael was in his familiar cotton dress, his butt throbbing from an impromptu after breakfast spanking Sara had decided to dish out and his hair itching underneath his wig. Soon it would be long enough that he wouldn't need the wig and Sara had promised to use her big wooden brush on it instead of just his backside.

“He is yours! He must learn to recognise your taste!” Steph was explaining to Sara. Both woman stood before Michael in watching pencil skirts that had been unzipped at the back to expose their pert arses. Both had removed their panties and Michael's cheeks were bulging like a hamster to hold them in his mouth. “Merely sniffing will not do – it will not be enough. If he is to be your sissy, he must inhale you fully. He must breathe you deep into his lungs.” Steph ordered Michael to lie on the floor, explaining that the sofa was too good for him, and told Sara to stand over him. She did so before slowly lowering herself onto Michael's face. Once her bare ass was firmly straddling him, she released herself and let out a long loud fart. He wanted to cough and spit out the panties but she remained mounted atop him, holding him in place. Another fart followed, and another and another and Michael thought he might suffocate. He felt hands pulling at the waistband of his panties and realised in his darkness that they must be Steph's. His cock was pulled free and hope rose in his chest briefly until he heard a soft click as something tight and hard was fastened around his genitals. “Now he is truly yours!” Steph whispered triumphantly as Sara sat back to press her ass down as she ripped a final and longest fart right up Michael's nose.  

Rules of Disengagement Part 2

 

In the weeks that followed, Michael did not leave his basement. It was a prison – its locks the shame of his new costume. Steph brought him food twice a day and a change of panties every morning – always something humiliatingly satin or silky or ruffled. He didn't see Sara once during this time and he began to wonder where she thought he was. Had Steph fed her sister some kind of story? And what had become of his clothes? He imagined his gaoler selling them, or worse, burning them. On the eleventh evening of his sentence, Steph descended the steps to his basement with a red wine dilation in her pupils and a wicked grin on her lips.

“Get on your knees you stupid dope!” She spat and watched him struggle. The heels of the Mary-Janes made it awkward to get down and the best Michael could manage was a crouch with his gloved hands on his stockinged knees. Steph rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You can't even do that, can you? It is no wonder my sister doesn't want to marry you. At least she saw sense eventually...” Michael gave Steph a meek sidelong look from his crouched position. She stood with her hands on her hips, her dark hair tied into a tight bun over an even tighter scowl, and a figure-hugging pencil skirt wrapped around her long legs. Without warning, she too crouched, and without giving Michael even a glimpse of what was beneath, she reached up under her skirt and worked her underwear down her legs. She lifted first one patent leather heel and then the other to remove the black satin thong and then kicked it over to Michael.

“Ah...” Michael sighed with resignation and began to lift his cotton dress to remove his own larger frilled panties to complete the trade.

“No, you idiot!” Steph shook her head with exasperation. “They aren't to wear. They are your reward for being a good little sissy. I want you to sniff them. Breathe in your mistress!” Michael hesitated, his cheeks glowing bright pink before finally he retrieved them and brought the used panties to his nose. He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Good!” Steph sneered. “Now put them in your mouth!”

Michael obliged. They tasted sweaty and stale and he was forced to breathe through his nose. Once more, shame consumed him as he gazed back at Steph, who was smiling back triumphantly. A minute passed and then she strode across the room to where he was still crouched. Turning on her heels, she bent forward and clasped the zipper at the back of her pencil skirt, pulling it up to reveal her bare backside. Before he could react, she grasped the back of his wig laden head and thrust his face between her ass-cheeks, ripping a long squeaky fart that he was helpless to inhale due to the thong stuffed into his mouth.

“Michael!” He heard the surprised voice of Sara from the direction of the basement stairs. He could see nothing but Steph's crack but he knew she had seen everything. “Why didn't you tell me this was what you were into? Things would have been so much easier!”

Rules of Disengagement Part 1

 This is a three part commission I did for DeviantArt

To say Michael's life was entangled with Sara's was an understatement. In the four years they had dated, they had not only got engaged but Michael had given up his rented condo to move in with his fiancee, and they even shared a bank account. So when their steamy relationship eventually blew cold, it was not as simple as moving out and starting over. Michael had nowhere to go.

Sara no longer loved her ex but she wasn't cruel. She allowed Michael to keep living in her basement until he found his own place, but there were conditions. Her sister Steph would be moving in immediately to take over Michael's share of the rent when he eventually left and to act as something of an umpire between the feuding former lovers, albeit one that was obviously biased in favour of one over the other. Steph's name quickly replaced his on the lease, and Michael found himself subletting from two women who held his shelter entirely at their mercy.

Steph made no secret of the fact she hated Michael. This was not a new thing. Right from the inception of his relationship with Sara, she had despised the way he looked down his nose at her as a divorcee. It was as if she was a broken toy, unwanted, a cast-off, and the moment she moved in with Sara, she made haste to settle the score for this and the way he had treated her sister. A week into her residency, she descended the steps to Michael's basement with a garbage bag in her hand.

“Right, listen up you worthless dork.” she scowled, tossing the bag at Michael's feet. “Sara might be a bleeding heart, but I sure as shit am not. You have two choices. You can either gather up all your crap, put it in that bag and leave right now, or you can stay, but what is in that bag there becomes your new identity for as long as you are still in this house.” She watched as Michael picked it up and spilled out its contents. Out fell a blonde wig, a cotton dress, patterned pantyhose, layered panties and a pair of platform Mary-Janes, and open fell Michael's mouth. Steph watched him try to process what she had just said then added. “If you don't choose one of these, I tell Sara you tried to grope me and she throws your ass out anyway!”

Michael didn't really have two choices. Having nowhere else to go and no access to his own money, his only option was to become Steph's plaything and she knew it. Over the next few hours she took her time transforming him, first ordering him to pull on the pantyhose and the underwear followed my the dress and shoes. Steph reserved the honour of placing the wig on his head for herself, thereby completing his new look. Michael caught his reflection in his floor to ceiling mirror and humiliation immediately washed over him. He looked ridiculous.

“Good,” Steph nodded, “now put your old clothes in the bag. This is what you will wear from now on. We'll start your training tomorrow!” With no choice but to comply, Michael began to gather his shirts and put them in the trash bag.

Chick Roulette

 14/25

Louis didn’t even bother putting his dick back in his pants as the scrolling symbol on the screen signalled Mugshot was finding another random member to connect with. The trick was keeping whatever unsuspecting chick it partnered him with online long enough to get a few strokes off. If he was very lucky, they would be the kind of wild slut who already had their tits out. Whoever was the other side of his screen when he finally shot his load, won the jackpot.

Louis was using the roulette function of the popular video chat platform ‘Mugshot’. Users were paired up randomly in a kind of digital speed dating until either party elected to move to the next person. To Louis’s disdain, this was almost always quicker than his exhibitionist tendencies wanted.

The scrolling circle disappeared and a username appeared in the top right of the screen – Delilah101. A gorgeous blonde girl appeared before him and Louis began to jerk off furiously.

“Well, hello there, SlutSlayer69,” she winked flirtatiously. “Aren’t you an eager beaver?” She placed one long pink fingernail between her teeth and Louis braced himself to glaze his keyboard. But, moments before lift-off, the recipient of his lust gestured her hand from right to left, the Mugshot prompt to move to the next connection. However, Delilah didn’t disappear from the screen. Instead, the scroll wheel appeared over the image in the bottom left – the insert that showed Louis’s webcam. When an image returned, it no longer showed him grasping his erect cock, but rather a blonde bimbo bursting with silicone encased in a fishnet bodysuit. “That’s better!” Delilah winked, and then she too disappeared.

“Whoa!! Nice rack!!” The hill-billy on the screen exclaimed and Louis’s mouth dropped open in surprise. The swollen pout of the babe in the corner of the screen also widened and he realised he was no longer gripping his stiff cock. He glanced down at his now flat crotch covered by a flimsy pair of red panties. A belly button piercing winked at him from just above them. Using a shaking manicured hand, he waved to dismiss the red-neck, only for him to be replaced to by an equally leery neck-beard with three chins. Shame washed through him and his hands shot up to cover the quivering jugs on his chest.

When he swiped again, he found himself doing so over and over as each drooling horny guy was replaced by an equally gross alternative. The few female pairings he got snorted and swiped themselves to send him to a new partner. Panic surged within him. He had to find Delilah again. Just when things started to feel hopeless, a DM popped up from the toolbar. “If you want your little friend back, I suggest you give some of these punters what they came for!”.

Louis grunted in self-disgust but when the next man appeared on his screen, he obediently grabbed both of his breasts and massaged them clumsily. And when directed to do so, he slipped one of his long fingernails into his panties and began to softly stroke himself. Any arousal he felt completely dissipated on seeing the guy shoot his load, but he was quickly replaced by another guy and another set of humiliating instructions. Over the next two hours, Louis performed stripteases, simulated blowjobs on a cucumber, rubbed oil on himself and even spread his ass-cheeks wide apart as guy after guy came over the human embodiment of a wet-dream Delilah had turned him into.

“I guess you’ve earned this!” At last Delilah101 returned to his screen. She swiped once more and both the main screen and the webcam insert showed the scrolling logo. Even before the image returned, Louis felt the comforting sensation of his penis in his fist.

“Holy shit! A hot shemale!!” His new partner gasped as Louis stared at his throbbing dick poking out from a hole in the fishnet bodysuit.

What the Hell Happened to Hugo? (Not an Exact Séance)

 Original caption is here 

“So?” Hugo took another step along the cracked tiled corridor before stumbling awkwardly once again in the leather six-inch heels. “Do you think it could be somewhere around here?” He asked. “Any of this look familiar?”

“How should I know?” The voice in his head scowled. “It's your stupid house – is it too much to ask that you walk around it without falling over and making me look like an invalid?” Hugo winced at the scathing female hiss in spite of its incorporeality. “And, by the way,” it continued, “this might be your stupid house, but that is still my body...in spite of everything. I would appreciate it if you didn't dress me as a complete slut every time you take me out!”

“Huh?” Hugo dropped the woman's delicate chin in confusion and stared down at the vinyl dress he had spent twenty minutes squeezing his adopted body into that morning. It's sheen was as alien to him as the soft female skin with the strange drawings on it that he also now wore. “Madam,”he prompted, “I do apologise, but I have been dead 300 years. I have never seen anything like this shiny material before in my life or death. I just assumed it was a modern luxury, not as it seems, a symbol of promiscuity. May I ask, why do you own it if it brings you such shame?”

“I am not ashamed of it!” The voice snapped with venom. “It is for...special occasions – certainly not for 500-year-old dead dudes to play dress-up in their favourite haunted house.” Her tone was shrill – sounding out all of the eight years she had been trapped as a passenger in her own body after a Halloween séance had gone awry. “Look, let's focus, shall we? When I summoned you, I read from an old piece of parchment. There was another stanza on that document and I dropped it somewhere in your stupid house. Finding that parchment could be the key to me getting my body back and you returning to the after...hey! Would you kindly stop playing with my tits!?”

“I apologise, Madam,” Hugo stammered. “But they really are majestic. In my day, sculptors would have travelled from far and wide to capture them in clay. You would have been quite the attraction.”

“I am not an attraction!” The voice pouted. “And while we are on the subject, could you please stop with the masturbating? I might not be able to feel it, but it is still humiliating. It is still my freaking body.”

“Madam, again I apologise.” Hugo protested. “I now realise that doing it in the market was an error. I truly did not intend to alert those guards. Would now be a more appropriate time? I do think it might help stimulate our memories.” Fighting to hide his excitement, Hugo pushed his slender fingers under the top of his latex panties and closed his eyes.  

Space Booty Part 3

“Okay, so let's go over the plan?” Captain John Broad looked conspiratorially at Kara his First Mate. They were stood in the corridor outside the captain's quarters that was now being claimed by the pirates as their own. “I go in there, distract them with my...charms...maybe dance a little, get naked...and then what? Snatch one of their phasers? Slit their throats? Grab the keys to their vessel and run for it? Or will you and Ally burst in when they least expect it?”

“May I suggest reverse space cowgirl?” Kara grinned as what was once her captain stared back blankly. “I mean, it's great for getting nice and deep and the reduced gravity will mean those big strong pirate men will have no problems bouncing you up and down like a beach ball on Pluto. If you think you were horny in the cargo hold, trust me, you are in for a treat. Although, I suppose I am not sure where that new pussy actually leads to...but I can make an educated guess...”

“You mean...?” John looked back at her in horror – a pair of bunny ears flopped pathetically atop his tangled hair. Kara and Ally had spent the last half an hour preparing him for their plan – one which the captain had assumed had involved their escape. They had dressed him from a menagerie of outfits in a crate that had accompanied the bodysuits in the hold, and intentionally selected the most demeaning, humiliating one they could find – a skimpy latex bra and thong set complete with a translucent excuse for a skirt. The captain turned to face her, his eyes hard and his breasts floating around in their flimsy cups in the reduced gravity. “You ungrateful bitch...after everything I have done for you... Well, if you think I am just going to go in there and debase myself, you...”

“Oh?” Kara raised an eyebrow as she produced a tiny device from her pocket. She smirked as the captain's sentence trailed off into a long orgasmic scream. The bodysuit was state-of-the-art and its perks were near instant. Just one click of the key-fob and there was sweat on his brow, a tremble in his lips and a buckle in his knees. She clicked it once more for good measure and the voluptuous creature in the bunny ears had to steady herself on the ship's wall while grunting like a pig. “I take it your resistance is already broken,” the First Mate nodded. “Good thing too – the pirates are sparing us and our ship and taking you instead. We've assured them that you can satisfy their every need, and if you can't, they've got plenty of these things.” She pressed the device again and the captain's body bucked wildly – his hands clamoured desperately for the crotch of the bodysuit but they shook so much with ecstasy he couldn't part the slit in the crotchless panties. “You told me I had to sleep with the captain to get ahead,” Kara shook her head, “and that's what I did... But now it looks like it is your turn...only you have two captains to please. And if I were you, I really would try to please them. If you don't, you will probably find yourself sold to some space brothel in the outer colonies. So...” Kara opened the door to the captain's quarters with one hand and clicked the device once more. John doubled over with a loud moan as his First Mate spanked him hard across his bare ass and pushed him inside. “Go get 'em, Tiger!”

 

Space Booty Part 2

 

Captain John Broad stood trembling in the dark for what seemed like hours while pirates plundered his ship. His feet throbbed atop the towered silver boots and in spite of the synthetic skin covering every inch of his body, he felt naked in the latex mini-dress. It was as if it was his own skin on show, his breasts pressed down by the vinyl material. He even felt weaker as if the bodysuit had somehow cast upon him the strength of the delicate space whore to match his appearance. He dared not move but curiosity gnawed at him. Did this thing have a pussy? These things were sex-toys, right? Presumably they were fully functional... Unable to resist any longer, he slipped a delicate hand under the hem of the dress.

The moment his fingers touched the smoothness between his legs, a shot of electricity rippled through his body. It was like licking a nuclear battery...with his dick! His eyes rolls back in his head and the nipples of his new breasts instantly went as hard as icecaps. What the actual hell?! Even as the sensation started to fade, he found himself reaching once more for his synthetic clitoris and a volcano erupted inside him. All sense left his mind and he pulled the skintight outfit over his head to get uninhibited access to his borrowed sex organ. “Ohhh fuck me!!” He moaned loudly.

The doors to the cargo hold shot open to reveal the First Mate and the Navigator flanked by four enormous men painted with glowing tattoos holding phasers. They surveyed the contents of the hold with unimpressed faces. “Sex dolls?!” One of them snorted. “Is everything on this ship worthless? You don't even have a captain we can ransom over to the space authority... Good thing you two aren't bad looking or this would be a complete waste of time.” He brushed the cheek of Ally the Navigator affectionately with one of his huge hands.

“Wait!” Pleaded the First Mate with desperation in her voice. “They aren't just sex dolls. They are highly sophisticated companion robots for long journeys into deep space. They are 100% compliant and can take care of all your needs. Watch this!” She grabbed a latex negligee from an open box and threw in front of where the captain stood naked, prone and terrified. “Number 24689, clothe yourself!” She commanded with cold authority as if talking to a machine. Captain Broad tried to comply with rigid obedience but the outfit was tight and inflexible. Finally, after minutes of stretching and pulling it was on his sore body and he sat cross-legged on a stool just inside the room. The rubbing of the struggle had once more incited the fire inside his loins and a soft groan escaped his lips.

“I see...” The lead pirate chuckled with clear interest, watching the panting Captain struggle to keep his hands from between his legs whilst perched on his seat. “And are they all like this?”

“They are,” nodded the Kara sagely, “but this one is fully calibrated and more than capable of satisfying all of your wildest dreams!”

Space Booty Part 1

 This is a three part commission for DeviantArt

The irony of the phallic shape of the space rocket SS Invader was not something lost on the ship's Captain John Broad. A merchant vessel by design, it traversed the galaxy carrying the captain, his small crew of two and their contraband cargo of bootleg toys. Captain Broad was the only male passenger of the small space faring ship as being overpowered by a mutinous crew was not something he wanted to contend with and in deep space.

“All quiet on the Western front?” He barked at Ally the Navigator as he passed her in one of the ships corridors, pausing to leer at her chest. Decreased gravity did wondrous things to breasts. The girl was slender and top heavy and he knew she was bright beyond her rank – not that it would help her career much if she continued to refuse to sleep with him. “I trust we are on course to reach Port Malice on schedule with no delays? It's not exactly Times Square out there in this part of the solar system.”

“Actually,” the Navigator checked an electronic screen on her wrist, “it seems we have hit something of a distraction. There is a small craft out there with their SOS beacon lit up. They're asking to board and bartering for fuel to get them to the next way station.”

“Captain!” Kara, his red faced first mate thundered into the corridor. She was pretty but dull witted and owed her rank to the fact that unlike Ally the Navigator, she had agreed to screw him. “It was a trap! We're being boarded! Pirates!”

“Pirates?” Captain Broad's face went white. He had heard plenty of stories of ranking officers being forced out of airlocks into deep space. “They can't find me! You need to hide me!” The two women seemed to freeze before him. “That's an order!” He yelled. Kara reacting quickest, grabbing his hand and leading him in the direction of the cargo hold away from the rocket's airlock. When they reached the hold door, his subordinate entered a code and the door open with a hiss. Countless humanoid figures stood before them. “Sex-dolls?!” The Captain cried with disbelief. “What am supposed to do with them?”

“They aren't sex-dolls,” the First Mate explained. “They are bodysuits. They are quite popular with the kinkier lifeforms in the galaxy. But more importantly, you can hide inside one while we figure out an escape route for you.” John hesitated for only a second before starting to strip off his clothes. The bodysuit fit him like a glove, sucking at his skin with almost vacuum like force to the extent the synthetic material felt like part of his body. Finally, he stood up and threw the long hair of the bodysuit behind his shoulders, struggling to balance in the high-heeled silver thigh-high boots. A latex mini-dress clung to his freshly borrowed curves and he had to brace himself with both hands on the hold walls to contain the overwhelming new sensations washing threw his body as a result of the device that now enveloped him. “Hold tight!” Kara's eyes were almost popped out of her head as she looked him up and down. “We will get you out of this! Just stay here and keep quiet! You don't want pirates to find you looking like that!”

Content and Contentment

 13/25

Matty glared at his tablet screen with disgust. One of the OnlyFemmes chicks he subscribed to was a guy!? What the hell?! Is was called OnlyFEMMES for a reason?! Not only that, she…he had put some kind of bounty up asking for people to sissify him. Matty took one last look at the most recent post and wanted to throw up. Sissify…that?! Why not hire someone to paint the sun yellow too…

He quickly unsubscribed and thought about all the times he had jerked off to that profile as bile curdled in his stomach. He needed to act fast to top up his masculinity and now he had an empty spot in his roster of digital side-chicks.

Quickly, he pulled up the chart of most popular creators and pulled up the highest ranking one he wasn’t already following. A profile for a girl simply known as “Emi” filled the screen and the image of an elegant latex clad beauty with severe bangs splashed across the top. All other pictures on the profile were greyed out until you subscribed so Matty was unable to tell precisely what kind of content she produced, but already he was enthralled by her swanlike grace and powerful slender figure. He pressed subscribe and was presented with two options - $8 “Be a voyeur”, $10 “Emi will make you Content”. It was a no-brainer, he thought selecting the second option. As his membership status changed to Pending, he turned his tablet off wondering just how content the content Emi made him would make him.

Matty didn’t have to wait long to find out. He awoke in the early hours of the following morning to find himself completely naked and his bedsheets pulled back. A latex gloved hand fondled his exposed cock, squeezing gently to bring him around. “What the f…” he groaned groggily, his eyes following the rubber arm gleaming in the moonlight up to a sternly framed yet gorgeous face. “You…” he was cut off as the hand suddenly tightened its grip turning his words into a yelp. Its partner appeared from the darkness and snapped something metal around Matty’s genitals.

Things moved quickly after that. Matty immediately recognised the intruder as the woman he had admired from his tablet screen the previous day and his body tried to respond in kind, yet his budding erection was thwarted by the confines of its cage. Emi had set up a camera tripod and opened a small black trunk. His heart hammered as he realised what “Emi will make you content” had really meant. When he opened his mouth to protest, Emi calmly pulled out a small keyfob and pressed it. White hot electricity shot out of the device between his legs, instantly silencing him.

Matty was powerless as Emi removed items from the trunk and forced him to put them on. Anything less than complete obedience was countered with pain. First came a pair of white satin panties that hugged his stinging testicles like clouds. Next came a French Maid’s outfit that fit him like a glove and an extra high pair of stiletto heels. Emi took her time carefully applying makeup and dressing his hair up with a ribbon, sparking him every time he moved or caused her to make a mistake.

When her work was finally complete, Emi looked around the room. Appearing satisfied, she removed the camera from its tripod and used a suction mount to attach it to the ceiling in the corner of the room. She turned, her trunk held under one latex clad arm, blew Matty a kiss and left.

Exhausted from all the zapping of his tortured genitals, Matty scooted on his backside to rest against the sofa and look up at the camera. He had a nasty feeling what those greyed out images on Emi’s OnlyFemmes page would show paying subscribers. He also wondered if the paying ‘voyeurs’ had any kind of access to the device cradling his crotch. Nausea washed though him as he remembered he had paid for a six-month subscription. Six months of this?! He kicked off the heels in frustration and white heat enveloped his genitals.

What the Hell Happened to...? (Over My Dead Body)

  The original caption is here

She found me after the funeral. I’d been pretending to mourn beside people who would never guess the truth, when I felt her hand — dry, soft, and deliberate — rest on my shoulder. “You wear it well,” she said, her breath faintly sweet, like decayed fruit. I dumbly looked down at my black latex dress – Dana's black latex dress.

I wanted to run, but Dana’s legs betrayed me, rooted to the spot as if they remembered her better than I did. “You did this to me,” I hissed.

The old woman smiled. “I saved you. You were dying without purpose, so I gave you a new home. You should be thanking me.”

I almost laughed, but the sound caught in my throat. “You put me in her. She murdered me.”

Her eyes glittered. “And yet here you stand, breathing through the hands that ended your life. A perfect circle. A second chance. But the circle must close again, when the time comes.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she turned and slipped into the mist like a wisp of ash, leaving the scent of damp earth behind her.

That night I dreamt of my body — or rather, the one that used to be mine — clawing at the inside of its coffin. The sound was muffled, desperate, rhythmic, like fingernails on wet wood. When I woke, the sheets were torn and my hands bled. The soft curves of my new body were wet with perspiration under a pair of Dana's silk pyjamas. How could I possibly go on like this?

I didn’t dare sleep again. I padded into the bathroom where I had removed the mirror, as I had done with every other reflective surface in the apartment. I couldn't bear to catch sight of myself from the corner of my eye. Every time I had, that moment where Dana had bore down on me knife in hand flashed in the back of my skull. However, I did have a sliver of silver that I kept handy for when the curiosity got too much. Such as now.

Dana’s reflection looked back, a face full of makeup that I had not bothered to wash off after the funeral, her features twitching as if she were trying to wake up beneath my skin. I whispered, “Are you still in there?” The glossy red lips in the mirror curled into a smile that wasn’t mine.

Now I understand what the old woman meant. Salvation was never about saving the soul. It was about recycling it.

And I can feel her coming back — clawing her way up to finish what she started – but not from the dirt, from inside of me...

Ace at Bass

 My Gloria Honeypot captions are in no particular order but they now have their own section on my index page

“That's it, Babe, just lean your arse back on the sofa and strum the guitar a bit. That's it! Lovely!” The record company scout barked orders at Finn and the photographer simultaneously – his grating British accent spreading around the penthouse apartment like a rash.

“It's a bass,” wanted to scream. “It's a fucking bass.” Not that there was any love lost with his instrument. He wanted to throw that cursed thing through the 47^th floor apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows even more than he wanted to do the same to the indomitable Mr. Gilbert. Yet, it sat glued to his grasp as it always did – inseparable from its prize.

Looks will get you a long way in the music industry. Even before what followed, Finn was an attractive specimen. His slender build and delicate features captured the attention of women every time he took the stage. It didn't matter that he couldn't play for shit and that the rest of his band only kept him around because his ability to draw in the local ladies was 90% of what got them booked. Two songs of him fumbling awkwardly around with his bass and you could bet your life a pair of panties would be thrown. Now the panties are already on stage, Finn thought bitterly...

The problem started when Finn made the foolish decision to try to improve his musical skills. Like any bad workman, he blamed his tools, and set out in search of a new bass. Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly had seemed like as ideal a place as any – its endless shelves holding a menagerie of treasures to be discovered. The bass guitar had hung from the back wall and Finn had bought it without even a test drive.

He did actually improve at bass. However, the instrument wanted so much more. He couldn't explain why, but he felt compelled to have it with him at all times – or maybe it was the other way around. Yet, the bass was not just satisfied with a dedicated player, it demanded magnificence. Finn didn't remember when he started to wear the makeup, or to wear mini-dresses while he practised. He didn't even remember when he started the hormone treatment. His instrument demanded perfection of its craft and it was sculpting the musician it wanted to play it. By the time he got the breast implants, lip fillers and hair extensions, his bandmates were too caught up with all their new-found male fans to care. So, what if Finn was a woman now. He was hot and that was making them money. They didn't see that their bassist had been enslaved by his cursed instrument.

“We're almost finished here,” Mr. Gilbert waved his hands. “I almost have everything I need to the team and make my recommendation. Almost...” The man started to unbuckle his pants. Finn felt the bass hum in his hands and he knew then it would have him do whatever it took to get to right to the top.  

This Caption Sucks

 This is a commission I did for DeviantArt

There was an almost PTSD nature to the way Paul balled up the silky hair behind his head in re-enactment of twenty minutes earlier when he had given his first ever blowjob. The guy was in the shower now – he could hear the spray from the hotel bathroom and the sound of running water made him suddenly desperate to wash the taste of cum from his mouth. He had swallowed, of course, and that was a shame that would live with him forever even if we was able to escape from the prison of this female body. There was a chance he could forget the feel of the satin thong as it chaffed his bubble butt with his own juices, there was even a chance he could forget the guiding hands on the back of his head and the streams of clumped mascara from his bug-eyes. But he would never forget the shame of feeling another man's seed dribbling down into his stomach.

“They won't all be that gentle, you know?” The gentle feminine sneer came from the corner, and by now, Paul knew better than to ask how June had managed to get into a locked hotel room. For someone who could transform him into the curvy beauty whose body he now occupied, teleportation or astral projection or whatever trick she was using was probably child's play. “Some will use your pretty little mouth like the fleshlight it deserves to be. They will drive their cocks relentlessly into the back of your throat until you gag and crush that cute little button nose into their pubes until it feels like you are breathing their sweat. That's if they want you from the front. Some will be more creative. Has your nose ever been in a man's asshole? If you are a super lucky little bitch, he might eat you out while you drain his balls...not that you deserve it!”

Paul bowed his head, unable to meet her stare. The resolve to resist the urges of his new body formed and then quickly crumbled as he once again tasted the mouthful the man in the shower had given him. If only he could keep his mouth shut. If only he had kept his mouth shut... June was the new office junior at his firm, and on her first day he had asked her out. She had politely declined, so in a spiteful rage, he had spread rumours she was a slut. When June found out, she had shown him exactly what she was – a powerful witch with a cruel temper. With a snap of her fingers, she had transformed Paul into a walking wet-dream – a form he would keep for one week. Unfortunately for Paul, that time reset every time he gave another man a blowjob and June had nastily given him quite the appetite for doing just that.

The shower clicked off and the large man who had shared the bed exited the bathroom. Paul felt a guttural pang of disappointment at seeing the towel wrapped around his waste. The shame was back and he glanced to where June had been to see she was now gone. It didn't matter. He knew she knew and that she was probably enjoying his humiliation all the same. The hunger was already returning, pushing the shame into the back of his mind. This was truly going to be the longest week of Paul's life.