Whatever Happened to Jimmy? (Miss June)

 This is a flashback for my Sissy Calendar caption "Miss June" 

“One extra large package just for...” Jimmy announced as he stepped off the elevator. “...Oh! It's you...” He instantly dropped the act upon seeing that the only person behind the ShackUp Lettings reception desk was the stony faced and significantly overweight Matilda. The boring cow was the kryptonite to his charms and an instant buzzkill. While he loved flirting with the other receptionists, especially the long-serving Ellen, who even after all these years was still his favourite, there was just something about Matilda that stopped the Jimster dead in his tracks.

“Ellen's not here today,” Matilda stated flatly, watching the courier slide the parcel silently onto the front desk. He was unable to meet her eye as he fiddled with a handheld device for collecting receipt signatures. The scrawny man appeared completely dejected by her presence. “Ellen, was talking about you yesterday though actually.” She said suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically bright. Jimmy's head shot up to attention. “She was saying how you're always asking her out – and that she has said 'no' about a million times.” Jimmy's gaze dropped back down to his device. “She said you do absolutely nothing for her. Except...” Now she had the courier's attention. “Except...this one time about ten years ago you posed for a charity calendar. You were Miss June, I think. Ellen showed it to me. She still has it, you know? Just that month, of course. I can see why. You were very cute. She said she bought a joke book to keep the banter going between you two, but you weren't interested. She said you were embarrassed. It's a shame really – sounded like she was willing to make a go of it if you had been willing to embrace your feminine alter ego.” Matilda used her finger to scrawl out a signature on the electronic screen. “Hey, how about I talk to her? Maybe she would give you another shot? What do you say? Would Miss June be willing to bring out an early summer?”

Three days later and Jimmy was waiting in a booth at a local bar, his heart thudding in his chest. You could say a lot about the courier, but you couldn't say he wasn't punctual. The wig was the same one from ten years ago. He had left the offices in such a daze that day, he had forgotten to remove it on the way out. The rest of the outfit was new though. He had guessed the sizes and ordered online, yet the hot pink playsuit fit him like a glove. It had taken him four hours to get ready but it would all be worth it if it got him some action with Ellen. The makeup had been the hard part. All the YouTube tutorials in the world couldn't steady his hand as it held those tiny brushes, and he had left trying to walk in the heels until far too late – badly underestimating how much practice it would take to be able to stride confidently into the bar. Though again, this was just a means to an end. Once Ellen got to know him, he wouldn't need to bother with all this crap.

“There she is!” A confident female voice proclaimed from the opening of the booth. Jimmy instinctively took up a defensive position, his hands stretching wide and pressing back into the sofa and his silk stockinged legs sliding up onto the leather. “There's my date!” Matilda said matter-of-factly. “There's my Miss June!” She stood over Jimmy imposingly. “Come on, sweetie, let's go get a drink in you!” She licked her lips hungrily. “I have much to get in you by the time this night is through!”

The Date Part 2

 

With every vibration of Otto's phone that followed, his feminine prison was built more secure. If the picture of the epoxy resin in Tilly's hand had been a barred window, the heavily edited videos that came next each added a lock to an already firmly bolted steel door. His so-called girlfriend was drip feeding him clips of him seemingly willingly, heck excitedly, dressing himself in the figure hugging outfit he was now wearing. 'This is going to be so good!' he exclaimed in one video as he ran fingers through the long hair of his wig. 'I can't wait to see Elijah see me like this!' as he pulled a pair of satin panties slowly up his silky smooth shaved legs. How had he let Tilly persuade him to wear the panties? Boxers would show show from under the short dress, she had said – they wouldn't hug his manhood tightly enough and Elijah might notice... Otto sighed – how had he let Tilly convince him to do any of this...

He had tested the resin of course - pulling at the wig with fistfuls of synthetic hair while in the bathroom had only succeeded in giving him an awfully sore scalp. The acrylic nails wouldn't come off either, nor, Otto realised in horror would the high-heels. The figure hugging dress didn't seem attached and apparently he could drop his panties at will, but that's what the subsequent video messages had been for – Tilly wanted him to finish the date with Elijah or the clips of him gaily dressing himself would be circulated.

When Elijah invited him to his dorm room, he had accepted without thinking – anything to remove himself from staring onlookers, even if it was because they thought he was a hot girl. The dork was harmless anyway and proceeded to give Otto a tour of his hand painted figures and binders of completed DnD campaigns. Polaroids of his gaming club were taped to a mirror and the penny finally dropped. Almost all of them featured a single female gamer amongst the group of sweaty nerds – in one she even had her arms wrapped around the greasy bastard...Tilly.

Otto hid his phone in one hand and glanced back over his shoulder to where Elijah stood awkwardly the other side of an unmade bed. Tilly had just sent him pictures of the makeup she had used to paint his face – each tube and bottle was printed with 'LONG-LASTING' or 'SEMI-PERMANENT'. By now his heart was hammering in his chest. 'I see you have been invited to Eli's bedroom,' the message read, 'by now you will understand what this is about. I have been preparing you to be a fool for much longer than you have been planning your date.' Otto seethed. That bitch! How could she do this to him?! His phone buzzed again. 'But how long you stay a fool depends on you! Eli really doesn't have a clue who you are. You can still make this a night to remember for him. How about it? Either I spread these videos and your life will suck for a long time...or you can suck right now!' One more picture came through – it was of Otto posing suggestively with his short dress pulled up to expose his satin panties and a single finger pressed against his painted lips. It had supposed to be ironic but none of that came through in the picture. He just looked like a complete sissy. Hesitantly, he took a deep breath and gestured for Elijah to join him near the bed – taking care not to trip on his glued-on heels as he got down on his knees.

The Date Part 1

Otto glanced quickly at his phone again when Elijah's back was turned – which was a rare luxury considering the chubby boy's eyes had been fixated on him all evening. Still nothing... He sighed, willing Tilly to hurry up with her cue so they could accelerate their prank to the fun bit – the bit that didn't revolve around him being eye candy for Elijah so he could get on with humiliating the fat Dungeons and Dragons obsessed doofus.

“Everything alright, Baby?” Elijah smiled sweetly. “You look cold. Care to wear my jacket?” Cold?! He wasn't cold!? Hell, it was actually pretty warm for early April. But, he did want that jacket. He didn't care that it had been wrapped around that sweaty boy's body. Anything would be better than what he was actually wearing. Otto instinctively looked down at himself and instantly regretted it, cursing the fact he had listened to Tilly when she suggested starting the date early in the afternoon. Of course, there would be more of an audience for Elijah's ultimate humiliation, but by extension more people would get to see him in his role too, and with the daylight lingering, they would get quite the view.

In truth, it could have been a dark evening and Otto would have still cut the striking figure. Tilly had done a fine job of preparing him for their April Fool's prank. Their mark was the greasy and grossly overweight enternal-virgin from their freshman year college study group, Elijah. Their plan was a classic – Tilly would help her boyfriend, Otto, dress as an overly eager female date for their classmate, make him think he was getting lucky, build him up, and then just as lover boy leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal, the wig would come off, Otto's friends would jump out laughing, fingers pointed, phone cameras poised, and Elijah would never speak up to correct him in class ever again. Hell, that stupid ass might never even show his face again.

Otto looked at his phone once more. He was getting impatient now and no longer cared if he seemed rude. Like he was going to upset a guy who wore a DnD shirt on a date. He actually felt offended on behalf of the female alter-ego Tilly had crafted for him. The long flowing hair, the perfect makeup, the short figure-hugging dress that clung to his smooth moisturised skin...the shiny fuck-me heels Tilly had given him as a finishing touch and then proceeding to teach him to walk in. Otto wasn't even a real girl and he was still too good for this loser. It was no wonder Elijah had clearly fallen in love already – the geek's eyes bugging with every wiggle, every shimmy that Otto threw his way. They weren't just going to humiliate him, he thought gleefully. They were going to break his heart.

Finally, Otto's phone vibrated in his hand. As expected, it was a message from Tilly and he opened it eagerly. But wait...he narrowed his eyes heavy with false lashes and wrapped his extended nails around the device like talons. He studied the picture Tilly had sent him. She had clearly been holding her phone in one hand and pointing it at assortment of objects on a table. Otto recognised them instantly given he was wearing all of them – a long flowing wig, the high-heels, acrylic fingernails – yet it was what was in Tilly's other hand that stopped his heart in his chest. Her palm was open and facing upwards, a small bottle lay in it with its cap unscrewed – 'Never-break Epoxy printed on its label.

 

Little Benny's Easter Jamboree

 

“What the hell is all that crap?!” Jill screeched upon seeing Ryan unloading the huge box from the back of their van. Brightly colored streamers were bursting from the top and Ryan was using his chin to stop a pile of bunny-ear headbands from falling to the floor. With a confused expression on his face, Ryan lowered the carton to the ground and Jill began to rummage through it. Together, the pair owned and ran a new and already struggling party hosting business and while they were supposed to be partners, having put up most of the investment money and the down payment on the company van, Jill was very much in charge. “What is all this?” She was pulling out items at random – plushy bunnies, paper plates, little yellow fluffy chicks, and dozens of small colorfully wrapped chocolate eggs.

“It's the stuff for Little Benny's party.” Ryan responded as if the answer was obvious. “You know, the Easter Jamboree. I just figured we were going with the standard egg hunt and party games and spent the budget accordingly. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal?!” Jill's mouth dropped open. “The big deal is 'Little Benny' is an ironic nickname. The big deal is Little Benny is a six foot five dude turning thirty this weekend and his friends are turning up here in two hours expecting us to have a surprise party for him, and my idiot partner has just spent our entire budget on baby chicks and chocolate eggs. I bet you haven't even booked a hostess, have you? Did you even read the booking form?”

“Well... hmmm...” Ryan blushed deep red and stammered sheepishly. He hadn't, of course, and was scanning the box of Easter knick-knacks for some inspiration. Finally, his eyes settled on a pair of the bunny ears and he raised them for Jill to see. “Well, I suppose you could wear these, and play the role of hostess?”

Needless to say, Jill did not play the role of hostess. That honor fell to the junior member of the partnership, Ryan. A hasty run to the store for some crates of beer had been enough to distract Little Benny's friends from the lack of an organised party – especially once the hot little bunny girl made her debut. Jill had sped home and returned with a satin corset and matching panties, as well as a blonde wig and her makeup box. She had been merciless in packing Ryan into the underwear, not so much showing him how to tuck as stuffing him into the knickers like a turkey. There was no effort spared when it came to shaping his body with the corset either and by the time it was firmly tied, Ryan could barely breathe. Makeup was then slathered on and by the time Jill was finished with him, he didn't even recognise himself.

“Oh, hostess!” Jill called coyly across the busy room to where Ryan had been trying to hide in a quiet corner. He had spent the last three hours serving beers, listening to drunk guys try to chat to him and dodging the odd wandering hand, and he just wanted the whole humiliating experience to be over. “We're about to sing Happy Birthday to Little Benny!” Ryan glanced to the table where the cake was waiting and braced himself for trying not to drop it while tottering across the room on six-inch heels. He adjusted the top of his corset to make sure the silicone padding was sitting naturally. “Oh no, I've got that.” Jill said. “I have promised the birthday boy that the beautiful hostess will sit on his lap while we sing!” Ryan paused – his stomach would have dropped were the corset not clenching it so tightly, and looked sideways to where Benny was sitting. He really was a mountain of a man – a wide grin on his face as he patted his thigh invitingly.

Season 8 Prologue - Lara Lake's Last Lament Part 1

 0/25

Starting out Season 8 with the Mannequeen

Each call out filled her with dread now. Each crackle of her police rover put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that this was it – the time that she would be made to finally lie in the bed she had made. That's why when Detective Lara Lake's radio came to life one shift and the dispatcher informed her of a possible Mannequeen incident in a mansion on the edge of town, she was instantly on edge. Was this where she would be made to pay for aiding and abetting the copycat that went by the moniker of the Cleaner.

The massive house was registered to a man called Wesley Tanner and when Lara discovered the moaning figure in one of the many upstairs bedrooms, she immediately knew two things; she had found Wesley, and this was indeed the work of the Mannequeen.

The woman on the bed wore only a skimpy underwear set and reeked of cum and perfume. Wesley groaned and looked up at Lara through eyes caked with heavy makeup as the detective drew her sidearm and looked around for signs of whoever had been ravaging the bodysuited Wesley – or worse still, the Mannequeen herself.

Entering the room, Lara had to bring her free hand to her mouth. What the hell was that perfume?! It was flowery and pungent like nothing she had ever smelled. And how much cum had been pumped into Wesley that she could still smell it in spite of the overpowering fragrance?! She entered the room and started to circle the perimeter, maintaining her back to the wall. The bimbofied tenant fixed her with his empty gaze and followed her position wordlessly, an ungodly blend of fear and lust—and she felt a premonition of her own future mirrored back at her.

The detective studied the used feminine creature and the bed covers tossed around her, all the while forcing herself not to choke on the fragrance. There was something missing, she realised? Where the hell was it?! The room spun, the walls seemed to close in just as the world she’d known had.

“Where is it?!” She raised her gun. “where's the tape-recorder?” She scowled as Welsey continued to stare at her with same blank expression. “Tell me where it is now!?” Panic was rising in her chest now. Something was wrong. There was always a tape – always a message to let the bodysuited victim know how screwed they were. Finally, the detective lost her patience. Holstering her weapon, she strode over to the bed and grabbed the figure by her bra-straps. “Where is the fucking tape..” she spluttered unable to speak as the perfume entered her lungs, overwhelming her, overpowering her. “Shit...” she gasped at last and fell unconscious onto the bed.

Whatever Happened to Robert? (The Apprentits)

 Robert last appeared on my Apprentits series - specifically this episode. All my Network captions are available on my index page.

“No sex in the champagne room,” The Juggernauts security guy said dryly as he lifted the velvet curtain for them to enter. “No cameras either!” He pointed to the device on Bryan's shoulder. “Come on, hand it over or you're not going in!” Bryan relieved himself of his equipment and followed Madison into the smoky room. The Frontline Entertain Media team were looking for another scoop ahead of the premier of the lost tapes of Femnonymous's perverted version of the Apprentits, and they were surprised to learn that a former Apprentits contestant was still working at a local strip joint. In the room a curvy bottle blonde wearing a black bra and thong underwear set swayed side to side on a pair of six-inch stilettos.

“I know you're here to interview me,” The woman purred from behind a face full of makeup. “But do you mind if I practice my routine while we talk? A prepared dancer is a well-tipped dancer!” Madison made a little surprised 'o' with her mouth but waved for the stripper to continue. “I suppose you're surprised I am still here after all these years... My forfeit on the show was only for a year after all.” The voluptuous woman who had once been Robert Williams, former child-star and losing contestant on the Network's Apprentits smiled wryly. “In some ways this is the best job I have ever had. The tips can be good too... Of course it helped that my trust fund was cut off after I apparently humiliated by family name on that freaking show.”

“Is it true the Network bought this club during the show just to force you to work in it?” Madison followed the sight of Robert's naked flesh as it gyrated and quivered before her. It was mesmerising to think this creature had once been masculine. “We've been interviewing Femnonymous victims over the past few weeks, and it's some freaky stuff. But what happened to you is just as extreme?”

“Oh yeah, they pulled no punches with me.” Robert said as he bent over with surprising agility and wrapped his arms around his calves, pushing his ass high in the air right in front of the two interviewers. “Of course, it's all Bryce Murphy's doing. He's the Network's CEO. Total psychopath. As you would imagine a guy who owns a line of game shows fixated on transforming men into women...into bimbos...” Robert put his hands on his knees and sank into a crouch. “You know he gets off on this stuff? Does that even surprise you? He visits the club sometimes too. Gets me to dance for him. He makes me feel like his own personal toy.” Robert finally stopped his routine and stood up high on his heels. “He brings his wife sometimes too. She's a bit of an airhead in her own way...a bit of drone. He has us do a bit of girl on girl. Not that I mind that bit – she's hot as hell... It's just...well, creepy. I know everyone thinks Bryce is crazy for wanting to release the Femnonymous tapes, but if you met the guy, you'd know it was right on brand.” He picked a bottle of champagne, popped the cork on it, and collapsed into one of the leather sofas. “We all know the Femnonymous show is going to be extreme – but Bryce is going to be watching with his ideas notepad in one hand and his dick in the other!”

Whatever Happened to Lance? (A Queen's Ransom)

 This continues my Femnonymous/Network stories, but the flashback is for one of my first captions - A Queen's Ransom. Part 1 is here.

Madison and Bryan knew it was a risk but the time was now or never for getting Frontline Entertainment Media on the map. Online gossip sites were already saturated with stories and scoops on the upcoming airing of Femnonymous's presumed lost version of the Network's own Apprentits and their interviews with past victims of the underground group had barely made a splash.

They stood in front of the large town house, microphone and camera at the ready, and they burst forward the second the door opened, knocking a flustered housekeeper to one side in the process. Senator Laney Charleton, formerly Lance, stood before them in the lobby leaning to adjust the ankle strap of an open-toed high-heel shoe. Her mouth dropped open until she saw the camera slung over Bryan's shoulder, and her politician's mask instantly reformed.

“Senator Charleton...” Madison gasped breathlessly. “How do you respond to allegations that your public gender transition eleven years ago was a total sham? And in fact you were actually the victim of one of Femnonymous's transformations? There first victim in fact...”

“Allegations from whom?” The Senator spluttered. “I will sue them, and you, if any such allegations are ever made public.” The blonde politician scowled and straightened her suit. “Do you really think I would persevere with these blasted shoes if it wasn't what I wanted? Now leave, immediately, before I call the police!”

“It has certainly been the making of your political career,” accused Bryan. “I hear you're in the running for the next vice president...” He shifted his camera to the other shoulder. “In a couple of weeks everyone is going to find out what really happened to those six Network producers who were kidnapped and forced to play the Apprentits. Who's to say some of Femnonymous's other victims won't also be on the tapes?” The Senator's face was suddenly ashen.

“Senator Charleton...” Madison took another step forward. “What about speculation that the airing of these tapes will anger Femnonymous, and provoke them into returning? You may have transitioned, whether willingly or not, but your policies have remained as misogynist as ever. Don't you worry that if Femnonymous do return, you might be high on their target list?”

“Target list?” The Senator repeated mechanically. The blood had drained from her face and she was fidgeting with the top button of her blouse. “Listen to me carefully and turn off that camera!” Madison nodded to Bryan and he lowered his equipment. “If you quote any of this, I will deny it. I don't know what's going to be on those tapes...or who is going to be on those tapes. If it is those producers, you're going to see them transformed into silicone messes for the entertainment of the masses. But if Femnonymous do come back because of this, it won't be me they go after. They will have their sights set much higher. They will have plans far beyond what your little brains could imagine...”

Appraising Jeanie

 Jeanie and the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes appear in a number of my other stories, so I have added them to my index page.

Jeanie sat across a desk of mist and rainbows from her line manager. All the offices at the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes were like this – simultaneously light and whimsical and bone crushingly intimidating. Today was her annual appraisal and it had not been a good year.

Her team leader folded her arms and frowned down at her direct report over a faint moustache. She glanced down at the document before her and cleared her throat. “So, Miss Jeanie, it seems in the last twelve months you have provided our wishers with 75 blowjobs, 132 handjobs, brought 19 men to climax with your breasts and given 3...” she raised the report closer to her eyes, “earjobs!” She raised an unplucked eyebrow to Jeanie. “In that same time, you have successfully corrupted 14 wishes.” The exasperated line manager sighed. “Miss Jeanie, are you operating as a djinn, or a common whore?”

Jeanie flushed red but tried indignantly to hold her manager's angry stare. “Fourteen? Does that include Gavin from last week?”

“The idiot who wished for tits the size of coconuts that leaked actual coconut milk?” Her team lead rolled her eyes. “No, it doesn't include Gavin. You can't manipulate a wish that is certifiably stupid to begin with.” She shuffled her report and rested her chins on folded hands. “Look Miss Jeanie – as hard as you try to prove otherwise, we both know you're not an imbecile. You see how the economy is and with the recent redundancies, you are being asked to cover the work of three djinns. But, you are failing! And, we also both know that with your current numbers, the only reason you are not one of those redundancies is because of who your Dad is.” She sat back in her chair of mist. “However, I give you my word, if there is no improvement soon, I will make sure you're looking for a new job before you can say 'Abra Kadabra'.”

Jeanie felt a small smile creeping over her face and urgently tried to hide it as soon as she realised her manager had noticed.

“Don't gloat too soon,” the line manager glared and, without further hesitation, snapped her fingers. Jeanie's jeans and shirt instantly vanished and were replaced with a cartoonish and revealing costume. A highcut leotard rode high on her thighs and orange striped stockings climbed her legs. Finally, a huge silly witch's hat appeared on her head. “That should make sure you remember who you are!” Her manager smiled thinly as Jeanie tried unsuccessfully to cover her body. “From now on, any titjobs you give out better be at least double-Ds!” Jeanie scowled as she realised how easy it would have been to convert another 19 of her sex-acts into successfully manipulated wishes.  

Whatever Happened to Dick? (Recasting Couch)

 This continues both my Femnonymous and Network stories, which have all previous parts on my index page. This is a flashback of Recasting Couch, which can be read here 

“You've got exactly five minutes!” The big breasted blonde woman ushered Madison and Bryan into her hotel room. “Do you know how many guys I could blow in that time?” She added coolly, bringing a pair of twin blushes to the reporters' cheeks. Bryan had his camera over one shoulder, 'Frontline Entertainment Media' printed along one side as well as on his t-shirt. On the way up he had got plenty of context shots of the hotel that had been overrun by young revellers since the onset of spring break, and now the film was full of drunken women baring their tits and douche bags chugging beer.

“Then I guess we'd better make this a quickie!” Madison said brightly, but they all knew the joke had fallen flat. Their interviewee, the former porn-magnate Dick Rising, and now, thanks to Femnonymous, viral sex-marathon bimbo, seemed disinterested. She was tightening the ties of her faux-leather bodysuit, which Bryan noted had open slits at the crotch and ass. Apparently un-phased by their presence, Dick grabbed a tube of lube and squirted a huge blob out onto his manicured hands before getting to work rubbing it furiously into both holes.

“I don't usually need this stuff, but when you're going for four digits over a long weekend, you need to look after yourself.” The bimbo explained flatly. “That's one thousand pricks!” She nodded to the once more blushing Bryan. “Do you think I am compensating for something?” She looked him dead in the eye and flicked her gooey fingers over her flat groin provocatively. “Happy for it to be one thousand one...”

“We're doing a piece on some of Femnonymous's victims.” Madison began nervously. “You know ahead of the premier of the lost Apprentits tapes. Ten years ago you were a successful producer...”

“And now I'm a filthy web whore having trains run on me by drunken students for content...” Dick snorted humourlessly. “Some would call that irony... I suppose your next question will be why do I put myself through this? Why not just disappear somewhere to be some quaint little farm girl? Well, Honey...I was born into this business...and I will damn likely die in it. It is all I know!”

“We just assumed Femnonymous messed with your libido like they did to some of the others.” Madison replied in shock. “We know about the throne. We know about what they did to you!”

“You don't know shit.” Dick scowled and raised a middle finger. “Look lady, I will tell you one more thing for free and then I got a long line of spring-breakers in balaclavas to screw. How many Network producers was it Femnonymous took? Six? It doesn't really matter. They don't exist any more. You think those latex bitches did a number on me? They were just getting started! They are going to make those producers a spectacle...and when they're through, their own mothers wouldn't know them from a silicone cum dumpster!”

Liquorice (a Liza story)

 All my Aiko and Liza stories are on my index page in order

“Can I go do the back yard now?” Glenn whispered. “Somewhere less people can see?” His concern was apparent – it was garage sale season and dozens of would be bargain hunters were passing by his position trimming the hedge. The manly nature of his task, contrasted perfectly with the vintage polka-dot dress he had been made to put on, not to mention the velvet lined high-heels and thick face of make up.

“Don't be silly!” Liza giggled. “There are no hedges in the back yard. You should know, we sat out there drinking lemonade enough times back when we were going out. You would know if you ever paid attention. If you had paid attention to me, we would probably still be going out rather than me watching you do yard work in laced panties!” She laughed as the boy blushed and then double-downed on her amusement as she noticed her Step-Dad watching them through the window in his French maid's uniform – feather duster in hand “Things would be different for a lot of people if they paid attention to me...”

“How could anyone not...” spoke a crisp masculine voice from behind her. Liza whirled around in surprise to come face to face with a boy about her age, ruggedly handsome with a stylish stubble and leather biker jacket. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your Mom is never going to win any beauty contests.”

“Huh? No!” Liza stammered, scrambling for her words as Glenn rolled his eyes from beneath his blonde wig. He felt weirdly offended at the insinuation he made for an ugly woman. “I mean, that's not my Mom. That's my...erm...ex-boyfriend.” She smiled, finally regaining her composure. “And I don't know about the beauty contests...you should meet his stylist!”

“Right!” The boy grinned broadly, holding her eyes like a magnet. “I'm Jay,” he stuck out a hand, “and you're Liza. I have seen you around,” he explained,”I have seen you with that Japanese girl who wears way too many ribbons. So, tell me, how come dear Mommy here is your ex? He keep stealing your shoes?”

“No,” Liza giggled a little too hard, “it wasn't that. Glenn was always a little too vanilla for me. I like my boys a bit darker...” she eyed the black leather of Jay's jacket. “I like more of an acquired taste. I like liquorice!” The boy gave a toothy smile and Liza matched it as if some invisible message had passed between them. Eventually, Jay broke their connection and glanced at the bag of candies sat on the end of the hedge that had been keeping Glenn motivated in his yard work. Liza followed his eyes and hurriedly snatched up the bag of sweets. “No,” she shook her head as she stuffed them in a pocket. “Those aren't for you.”

Whatever Happened to Trever? (Freebee)

This continues my overlapped Network/Femnonymous story, both of which are in full on my index page. It is a Flashback Friday of my caption Freebee

“Remember,” Madison hissed to her cameraman and sole companion as he finished setting up his equipment. “Try not to stare!” Bryan nodded, thinking he could always hide behind the viewfinder if there was any risk. That idea immediately vanished as he saw their interviewee waddling across the pool area towards them. The woman had enormous breasts floating unnaturally in a barely-there black bikini top and string bottoms that clung around cartoonishly exaggerated hips. Bryan's eyes flitted to the front of the swimsuit that was ominously smooth. This bimbo used to be a guy?! He stared aghast.

“Sorry...” He muttered as Madison introduced them. They were Frontline Entertainment Media, a web exclusive entertainment news channel that covered everything from the latest celebrity scandals to up and coming new shows. In this case it was both.

“Hi there, Tiff!” Madison held out her hand warmly, a microphone baring the insignia 'FEM' in the other. “We're so glad you agreed to have a quick chat with us! As a former employee of the Network and a...errr...victim of Femnonymous's campaign of terror, the news that the Network plans to relaunch by airing the fabled lost tapes of Femnonymous's version of the Network's own show, 'The Apprentits', must have come as a shock to you?” The woman formerly known as Trevor stared back dumbly – a pair of fat pink lips pursed in a silent pout.

“You used to work in recruitment for the Network,” Bryan prompted. “But the contestants on the lost tapes weren't recruited - they were kidnapped. Do you have any thoughts on that?” The woman's blank look remained but she slowly turned one of her platform heels inwards and cupped her hands under her breasts provocatively. “What's wrong with her?” Bryan whispered to Madison.

“I read that Femnonymous did some kind of behaviour modification on her. Apparently ramped up her sex drive to 11 and fried her decision making.” Madison replied. “It's probably how she ended up working here...”

“Hey Tiff!” A sleazy guy from across the pool area yelled as if on cue. “The fluffers are almost done with these guys. I am telling you, you have your work cut out today. You need lube, or you good?” The man glanced at Madison and Bryan. “Hell, maybe see if your man with the camera wants a turn on the other side of the lens... We all know there's plenty of Tiff to go around.”

“Wait!” Madison grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Can't you tell us anything about what happened to you? About what might have happened to the contestants on these tapes?” The former Trevor tried to pull her slender arm free. “What about the surgeries they did to you?”

“Surgeries?!” Tiff turned back to them, her eyes suddenly wide and very alert. “There were no surgeries! That's not what they did... They have this chair...no, a throne! They plug you into it, and turn you into whatever they want. It's like a dream. Wait, no...” She blinked rapidly and her cleavage heaved. “It's a fucking nightmare!”

Tell Tale

This is a new caption for my Mannequeen series. The rest of the story is on my index page

It started with a call from one of her confidential informants – not a conversation but fifty seconds of breathing and frantic tapping. Detective Lara Lake knew something was wrong the moment she entered Harry Federici's putrid apartment. Nothing but silence and fear greeted her and her heart thudded in her chest as she inched inside, her gun drawn. She found Harry in the bathroom – or rather what had become of him. She recognised him by the panic in his eyes and she had no doubt her former snitch was the latest victim of the Mannequeen.

Harry was staring into the mirror at his new form, soft pink lips parted in terror and one hand grasping at his throat. He was naked but for panties and stockings, and large round breasts, indistinguishable from the real thing hung freely. Lara had seen this before in the Mannequeen's victims – the initial shock of waking to find a female body where theirs had once been. Panicked hands that touched and pinched at every inch of skin, desperately looking for a way out, disbelieving at how real it felt. She spotted the tape recorder next to the sink.

“Hello, Detective Lake. I want to play a game. I am so enjoying this cat and mouse set up we have going on that I decided to leave you a lump of cheese...my dearest rodent. Harry, your dearest CI has been permanently sealed up inside one of my state-of-the-art bodysuits...” The naked figure at the sink started to tremble violently. “You may also notice that I have taken away his ability to speak. The once loose lipped Harry Federici will never again utter a single word. That is because what he has to say is not important. It is what you do next, Detective that will speak volumes.”

Lara looked up. The informant has begun frantically clawing at his black silk panties. Somehow it had taken him this long to realise it was indeed a fully female bodysuit. “The choice is yours Detective. You can take Harry in as the latest but by no means greatest victim of the Mannequeen. He will be processed and questioned and your clods will as always try every futile means of freeing him from his new body. He may no longer be able to talk but there are other ways to communicate. I wonder how your colleagues will react when he tells them of our special little rivalry... Or, Harry can be left to embrace his new life as a silent, but very sexy, lady of the night. The choice is yours, Detective, choose wisely.”

The tape ended and Lara's eyes met with the terrified informant's. He had been ready to turn evidence against a powerful mob boss, but this encounter was a step too far for his nerves. She thought for a moment and then brought her phone to her ear. “Hey, you still got a contact for Don Fabio? Yeah, tell him I've found one of his girls. Doesn't seem to speak English. I'll text you the address.” She put the phone away and looked back at Harry one last time. “I wouldn't bother putting on clothes. You probably won't be needing them...”  

 

So, what's next for my captions?

 You may have noticed that I just finished posting the last of my Season 7 captions. My seasons of captions are where I put my core stories involving all my biggest ideas and recurring series and characters. While I also post commissions and the odd impulse story midweek, along with a flashback caption on a Friday, I post my main captions every Sunday in blocks of 25 and then finish with a teaser for the next block of captions.

So, now that I am finished with Season 7 am I going back on hiatus for another couple of years?

NO!

I am just finishing up Season 8 and should be ready to start posting it by the end of the month. It is again 25 captions that I will post every Sunday, and is called "Making the Punishment Fit the Crime." Overall the stories have a bit of a recurring justice theme and included will be multipart stories featuring Femnonymous, Aiko, the Mannequeen, the Pink n Prissy Collective and Bimbo Note. Over the next few weeks I will be posting Flashback Fridays that will set up some of the main storylines as well as some other stories that feed into the Mannequeen and Aiko stories to come.

Season 7 Epilogue: The Network Presents...

26/25

Season 7 has ended but not without a little sting in the tail. I will be posting about what's coming next very shortly but here is a little continuation of my Network and Femnonymous series. Both are available in full on my index page.

Bryce uncapped the bottle of bourbon and filled the two glasses on his desk. He handed one to the other man in the office and clinked a toast. Despite it being years since he had been CEO of The Network in any kind of active capacity, the tradition of Friday afternoon drinks with his chief legal advisor had persevered and as usual both men were shooting the shit.

“I am telling you Bob – this new show, Hot House, is our way back in. Viewers can’t get enough of it. The audience is still there for our product. We could air Spot that Sissy tomorrow, hell, Make up or Fake Up, Mutually Assured Distraction – put any of that shit back on screen and the viewership would eat it right up.”

“Right…” Bob replied tentatively. “But aren’t you forgetting? The numbers were never the problem. It was them! It was…Femnonymous…” He almost whispered the last word. “I am sure you don’t need reminding, but they kidnapped six of our junior producers and promised to force them to play their own perverted version of the Apprentits!”

“Sure, sure,” Bryce waved his glass dismissively, “but that was years ago. And here we are, still waiting. I am sure if they were ever going to make good on that, they would have done it by now. And what do we have? A big lot of nothing!”

“Actually…” Bob began uneasily, “nevermind…” He looked down into his drink for several minutes but when he looked back up his friend was still staring at him raptly. Realising Bryce wasn’t going to let it go, he continued. “Alright, but this doesn’t leave this room,” he sighed. “Five years ago, a friend of mine at the FBI contacted me to tell me that they had raided a secret Femnonymous compound on an abandoned island. No-one was there, but they recovered tapes. It was the Apprentits. Their Apprentits!”

“Holy shit!” The CEO’s glass tumbled to the floor. “Have you seen them?!”

“No.” His legal advisor shook his head. “But my contact did send me this.” He turned to a filing cabinet and pulled out one of the drawers. After some rummaging he produced an envelope with the FBI seal and “Classified” stamped on the front. Bob removed a photograph from it and handed it to Bryce. “That’s a still from one of the tapes!” He looked at his friend with a serious expression. “So, you see why we can’t revive The Network?”

“Woah…” Bryce fell into his chair without taking his eyes from the picture. A woman with long blonde hair in a bikini was kneeling before the camera – her body and face clearly surgically enhanced to cartoonish proportions that still failed to hide an expression of shame and helplessness. He tried to match the creature in the photograph to one of the six producers taken by Femnonymous and realised he couldn’t even tell if they were originally male or female. “This is extraordinary!” He met Bob’s eye. “But this is exactly why we should revive The Network. This…” He tapped the photograph. “This could make us millions! Please tell me you can get those tapes! They can be our comeback special!”  

Being Her Valentine Part 3

 

“You really thought a couple of sisters as close as us wouldn't compare Valentine's cards?” Sara cackled gleefully. “You really are a silly sissy...a silly piggy sissy!!” She watched Michael reach up behind his head to where the ballgag was fastened – it was clear he wanted to remove it so he could respond. “What do you think you're doing?” He paused in place. “I wasn't asking you a question. I was stating a fact. You are a pathetic two-timing piggy sissy waste of DNA!” She snorted another fit of giggles as Michael averted his gaze from her. “Right, Steph?”

“Right!” Steph agreed, standing alongside her sister with her arms crossed. She wasn't taking the same level of pleasure from Michael's predicament as Sara but it stung in a different way. He saw the hurt in her eyes, and spite, and a cold need for vengeance. She had been the one he tried to cheat on after all. Sara's taunting was humiliating, but Steph's hollow intensity scared him. What had he been thinking?!

“Hey Mom,” Sara called to Sophia, who had been watching on from the other side of the room since they had dragged Michael back into the house. “What do you think we should do with this bitch? Say, I'm surprised the stupid sissy didn't send you a card too. He's clearly always had the hots for you too. All that pathetic grovelling whenever Steph brought him over for Sunday dinner. Yes, Mrs.. No, Mrs... Three bags full, Mrs...”

“Is it true?!” Steph had a fire in her voice and Michael looked up at her timidly from his position on his knees. The ballgag they had stuffed in his mouth was sucking in his cheeks awkwardly. There was no dignity in the world that could possibly be salvaged from this situation. “All this time... playing house with me... running around after my little sister... and you still thought the sun shone out of my Mom's ass? Well, let's see shall we?! Mom, get over here!”

“Yeah, Mom...” Sara laughed sharing a look with her sister and catching on with her plan. “Come here! Come help us show this piggy sissy what really shines out of your ass!” Sophia stared back tentatively then glanced at the kneeling Michael, who somehow managed to look confused in spite of the ballgag and layers of makeup.

“You girls...” Sophia smiled at her daughters and shook her head. “If I can't say 'no' to you, what chance did this cretin stand? Come on then... Let's do this!” She walked across the room and Michael looked around nervously as Steph and Sara positioned themselves either side of him. Sophia stopped in front of him, turned around and hiked her skirt up so he was face-to-ass with her g-string parted cheeks. Before he could react, the three women acted with impressive coordination. Sophia pulled down her panties and bent over and Steph and Sara each grabbed the back of his head and firmly pressed it forward. Michael's world went black. “Hold him tight, girls!” Sophia hollered. “With that gag, our little piggy will have no choice but to breathe me in!”

Being Her Valentine Part 2

 

“Come on, Steph. Please let me in!” Michael thumped his fists against the glass. “I know I said I would do whatever you wanted, but there is no reason to torture me. I just want to fix our relationship!” He let his hands fall to his sides as his girlfriend continued to stare at him impassively from the other side of the sliding door. He wasn't even sure she could hear him. However, if he continued to shout, he sure would attract the attention of their neighbours. Michael looked around at the multiple houses with direct lines of sight into their yard where he was pleading. What would he look like to them? He surveyed himself in his reflection in the glass door. He really did look like a piggy sissy in the heavy makeup and blonde wig – completely naked except for the hot pink bra and panties. “Come on, Steph!” He begged. “I'm...I'm...” His mind raced. “I'm so cold!” But Steph simply turned around and left her position at the window.

“If you're so cold, put this on!” The door was open just a second but it was long enough for Steph to yell her command and hurl the pink satin dress at him. Michael just stood there dumbly, unfolding it. It had an old-fashioned cut, somewhere between a maid's dress and a babydoll with big poofy sleeves and sown in stockings. He could tell it would be tight but he really was cold and he didn't want to stand around in the bright pink underwear waiting for one of his neighbours to glance out the window. Reluctantly, he pulled the dress over his head and the stockings up his legs. Raising his arms to the watching Steph in a sarcastic pose, he turned and sat down on the decking. Maybe if he made it seem like this didn't bother him, she would end it sooner. He raised his eyebrows and folded his hands in his lap.

“Michael! What in the hell are you doing out here?!” His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of the older woman whose eyes looked like they might pop out of her skull. “And what on earth are you wearing?!” Sophia was Steph's Mom and despite being a good 25 years older, still shared the same elegant good looks. As she blinked more times than any human Michael had ever seen, he felt a wave of fresh shame wash over him at being discovered like this. “You look like a...like a...total sissy!”

“Hey, Mom! I have your car keys!” Michael heard a fresh voice calling from the other side of the fence. The gate through which Sophia had entered the yard swung open once more and the owner of the voice entered. “Hey, Mom – any idea why Steph told us to come round the back...” The new woman stopped mid sentence and her jaw dropped open. Where Sophia was attractive, her youngest daughter, Sara, was stunningly beautiful. She possessed Steph's sharp angular features but retained a youthful mischief her older sister had lost a few years back. It had been why Michael had sent her the Valentine's card. Sara's mouth closed into an evil grin and suddenly he knew exactly what was happening. “I see my sister didn't waste any time punishing you for trying to two-time us...”

Being Her Valentine Part 1

“That's it, Michael. Paint it on nice and thick.” Steph instructed. “Come on. Just like I showed you. Just like you promised!” Michael squinted at the tiny brush in his hand, concentrating on the tiny grains of powder on its end before allowing his vision to unfocus to the round makeup mirror with the illuminated edge. He almost didn't recognise the face that gazed back, caked with different shades of colour and framed by the bangs of the blonde wig. “What are you waiting for? Slather it on you piggy sissy!”

“Piggy?” Michael lowered the brush and turned his head towards his girlfriend. That was the second time she had called him that now. The first time he had assumed she was being playful, just getting into character – he had even liked it. It had been authoritative...demanding. But this time there was an edge to it.

“That's right!” Steph smirked coldly. “In your Valentine's Day card to me you said you would do anything to be the man I wanted. You said you would change. Well, I am taking you up on that offer! I am showing you how to be the man I want!” She appeared to grow impatient with Michael's continued hesitance, and took the brush from his hand and proceeded to paint his eyelids with rock-solid precision. “And what I want is a Piggy Sissy!”

“Ah...” Michael's glossy red lower lip dropped open. His pride, at least what was left of it didn't appreciate Steph talking to him like that, but other parts of his anatomy did. She seemed to notice the stirring within the satin of his panties and snorted cruelly. Michael lowered his head and sat in shameful silence. He truly wanted to reignite the passion in their relationship, and he had meant every word of his pledge in the Valentine's card to Steph. By saying he would do whatever she wanted from him, his intention was to put the ball in her court. He just never thought this would be the game she would ask him to play. She had read the card in silence, her lips pursed, before folding it carefully and leaving the room. When she had returned, she was carrying her makeup box in one hand and a bright pink bra in the other. Nevertheless, he had swallowed hard and told himself – 'If this is what it takes to save our relationship so be it.'

“Almost done, Piggy!” Steph declared after several more minutes of painting his face with the brush. “There...” She smiled warmly for the first time since reading the card. “Now for phase two. Come...” She put the brush down and walked from the room. Michael's heart lept in his chest. Was she taking him to the bedroom? Was this what she wanted from him? To satisfy some kink she had been hiding? He followed her through the house with a mix of confusion and disappointment as she passed the staircase leading to their bedroom. “Look out there!” She opened the sliding door at the back of the house and stared off into the yard. Michael followed her gaze, moving closer to get a better look...until suddenly, Steph shifted her weight and shoved him with both hands over the threshold. He turned in horror just in time to see her lock the door with a loud click.

 

Sssshhh

 25/25

'Ooooohhh...he's perfect!' squealed Alice, looking down at their project. 'Wait! What am I even saying? He? She! She's fantastic! She's everything we were hoping for! She'll make a wonderful maid for our party.'

Georgina beamed with pride from her sorority sister's praise. 'Nice little loophole, don't you think? Now, no girls from outside the sisterhood need to be at our party and no-one needs to know we let any but the most alpha boys in campus come within five feet of us. Besides, I doubt any of those mousy little things from Beta-Beta-Beta could fill out a dress as well as this one! I even packaged her up in case she had the idea of making a run for it!'

Sean cowered beneath the duo of manic girls. The wig had only been on his head thirty seconds and it was already itching. He just prayed they were joking about the glue. Combined with the figure hugging frilly dress and the fishnet stockings, he felt like he was being squeezed all over. Still, none of it compared to their eyes on him, their satisfied mocking stares. And that was without the ropes Georgina had tied around his ankles and wrists – she had even bound his shoulders. Who hid she think he was? Houdini?!

Alice snapped a picture with her smart phone. 'Think I'm gonna use that to copy her makeup,' she grinned. 'It's a bit slutty, but I can make slutty work.' She winked at Sean in a way that made something stir inside his satin panties and his glossy pink bottom lip dropped open. 'Now, my dear maid,' she beckoned, 'show us how you're going to greet our guests.'

'Please,' Sean grunted in disbelief. What the hell was she expecting while he was tied up like this?! 'Please let me go.'

'Not ladylike at all,' Alice shook her head with disappointment. 'That won't fool even the dumbest of your fratboy pals.'

'It was what I suspected,' Georgina shrugged,' that's why I got that.' She pointed at Sean's neck and he nervously looped a finger around the leather choker, pulling the heart-shaped ring away from his Adam's apple. Georgina didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled it forcefully over his chin. The hoop sunk between his plump lips and he instinctively fastened his teeth around it to stop it going deeper, not realising until it was too late that was exactly where it was intended to go.

'Urrggghh,' he moaned.

'Perfect,' nodded Alice once more, 'now you sound as tarty as you look. 'Say,' she eyed Sean's now open mouth, 'you're looking a little exposed there...let's make that forced little dentist's smile a surprise for them!' She reached for a roll of tape and slapped a piece over his mouth. "It might take those fratboys a little time to find that sweet O of yours, but don't worry, they will want to explore your pretty mouth before long. I hope they play nice with you."

'Oh, don't worry,' Georgina's eyes twinkled, 'I'm sure you'll get a taste for them in no time...'

Spoils of War Part 3

 

“Hush, my dear brother... It's over now!” Alyssa smiled warmly, circling her bed. “The battle is won. The war is over. All that remains is the victory parade.” Robert was kneeling in the centre of her duvet in something of a PTSD haze. The quiet of the sorority house bedroom was in stark contrast to the stadium packed with tens of thousands of screaming fans where the Epsilon-Zeta girls of Beaverhole had dragged him along in full uniform as an honorary member of their cheer squad. He had been forced into clumsy high kicks between plays and to sit with the rest of the cheerleaders on the bench behind the bemused players. He had even appeared on the big screen at one point. His parents had seen him, he realised with a sinking dread,

And yet, the beast had been conquered, the game had been won, and the rival sorority had reluctantly handed their hostage back to his sister's clan. So, why was he still trussed up in velvet and nylon and painted like a sissy?! Robert turned his head to one side to gaze out the window and felt the long locks of his wig brush across his heavily made-up cheek. After all that had passed he still felt miles from freedom.

After the game had ended in victory, Alyssa and her friends had carried Robert on their shoulders back to the sorority house. He was soon naked once more as they stripped him of the Beaverhole uniform to throw on a small fire. His sister had to bat away a gleeful college girl who was enjoying Robert's perfectly smooth skin a little too much, and then she dropped the bomb that his ordeal was far from over as the girls were planning to parade their trophy at the college's victory party. All the girls mucked in to transform him once more, and by now Robert found that most of the resistance had gone out of him. He obeyed meekly as they produced a velvety party dress with long nylon sleeves and bejewelled choker, and demanded he dress himself. It was still slightly better than being nude in front of two dozen girls, and definitely better than being dressed as a cheerleader in front of the entire town. And still, his mind raced at the thought of what the sorority had planned for him, their new mascot, at their victory parade.

“Those Beaverhole girls are so dumb!” Alyssa smirked as she continued to admire her work, touching up Robert's make-up and rearranging bits of hair. “You know we told them this could be an annual thing?! Like we compete to win you as a trophy every Valentine's game. That's how we got them to agree to hand you over. I hate to say it, but you'll be long gone before the rematch next year.”

“What?!” Robert's face went pale. Suddenly the parade seemed like the least of his problems. “No, Alyssa, I won't be...” He stammered. “I didn't tell you... We were supposed to tell you this weekend... I got offered a place at Seabrook. I will be starting here in the fall. I'm going to be here for the next four years...” His heart pounded as he realised just how far from freedom he really was...

Spoils of War Part 2

 I was tempted to leave this as a bit of an Easter egg, but Beaverhole and the Epsilon-Zeta sorority are from the caption universe of my own friend B-Rex - someone who has influenced my captioning style more than anyone else over the last 12 years. B-Rex isn't currently posting but I highly recommend you go check out Degraded Damsels and see how much I have managed to rip off as my own ideas 

About a dozen girls crowded around Robert as he lay prone on the floor – their excitement evident in their rapid giggled whispers to one another. 'It's a guy!' 'It's a sissy!' 'It's some kind of pet!' 'Probably a boyfriend who got caught cheating!' 'It's pathetic!' 'It's probably their mascot!'

“It's a trophy!” The crowd parted to allow a stubby butch girl with an air of leadership into the centre right in front of Robert. “And it's ours! Those Seabrook bitches think they are so much better than us! They think their boys are going to crush our team in the big Valentines Homecoming game tomorrow! Well, were going to show them! Were going to show them that Beaverhole is not a town to be messed with, and we sure as hell are going to show them that Epsilon-Zeta is a sorority to be feared. And we are going to start by making an example of their little mascot here!”

Robert very quickly came to understand that the short masculine girl was named Lynn and was the leader of the Epsilon-Zeta sorority, a prominent house from his sister's college's rival school and opponents in tomorrow's Homecoming game. He could also tell that the other girls feared her like a drill sergeant as they moved obediently to her barked orders. For the second time in three hours, Robert was stripped naked in front of a room full of girls, and to his dismay, his member was still feeling the effects of his forced ice-cold shower – something that amused the encroaching sorority.

“He's completely smooth!” Chuckled one of the girls running her hand up his leg – an experience Robert might have enjoyed under other circumstances. Another girl lifted him under his armpits as hands slapped as his bare ass and one girl even pinched at his testicles. He was turned to face some approaching girls and when he saw what they were carrying, he began to struggle.

They overpowered him easily, of course, and within no time they had stuffed him into the Beaverhole cheer uniform complete with matching spandex spanks and sheer pantyhose. One of the girls had sat on his chest while another glammed up his makeup and replaced his wig with one with long wavy highlights. They were turning him into one of them, Robert realised in horror, and when they finally released their grip on him, he scrambled backwards on all fours until his back was pressed against the wall.

“Here! You'll need these!” Lynn threw a pair of pompoms at his feet. “Cheerleading isn't my thing, but the girls here will show you our routine!” Over the next hour, Robert was forced through an exhausting regimen of high-kicks, clumsy cartwheels and waved pompoms. His mistakes were mercilessly corrected by the team of girls and a sinking dread formed in his stomach at the sight of Lynn filming every moment of it. Just when he thought his lungs would explode, they left him a sweaty humiliated mess on the floor. Five minutes later, Lynn reappeared holding her phone. “It's official! Those bitches at Seabrook saw our video and agreed terms. Whichever college wins the Homecoming game tomorrow gets to keep their little mascot here as their own!”

Spoils of War Part 1

 

Robert lay on the leather sofa in the communal area of the sorority house feeling utterly pathetic. He should be loving this. All around him, college girls in various states of undress weaved excitedly. Uncupped boobs poked through vest tops with panties peeking from below. Towels were wrapped around heads of girls still wet from the shower. Skin was on show everywhere he looked. This was why he came. He should be in heaven. And yet...

The last few hours felt like a fever dream. It was the weekend of the big homecoming game and Robert's sister Alyssa was one of the star cheerleaders. Their parents had planned to drive up with Robert on game day to watch the big contest and their daughter perform, but Robert had convinced them to let him come a day early to hang out. In reality, Alyssa had told him about the epic slumber parties she and the rest of the sorority girls had the night before a bit game and he wanted to try to catch a glimpse of some sexy sorority shenanigans. Things had gone well at first. He had popped a few beers with the help of a fake ID and then crept through the darkness of the evening to one of the sorority house's ground floor windows. The party had been in full flow. Girls were dancing in their underwear and sipping colourful drinks. He had even seen a flash of side boob on a beautiful red-headed girl. That's where things started to go wrong. A group of girls returning with a stack of pizzas spotted him and before Robert could run, he was kicked swiftly in the groin.

“How is our guest of honour enjoying herself?” Alyssa was standing at the end of the sofa with a mocking grin on her face. Robert instinctively hugged the stuffed bear the girls had given him, cursing how pitiful he must have looked. She can see right up the dress I'm wearing, he realised, and shifted his knees up to his belly defensively. This only succeeded in showing her his pantied butt. The girls had done a number on him alright... Before he had even recovered from the pain and indignity of being booted in the crotch, five girls had removed him of his clothing and he was fully naked before he had even been dragged into the house. It was like they had done this before, so prepared and regimented were they for his arrival. Two had held him down, while another three had smothered his body with what he later found out to be hair removal cream. He had watched the last of his body hair trickle down the drain as a laughing girl had showered him with ice-cold water that shrank his cock to the size of his little toe. He had been been putty in their hands after that – a toy to be be powdered and painted and dressed as they wished. Not a boy – a doll... And now a distraction, a piece of furniture that they occasionally stopped to giggle at as they continued with their party. He should have been in heaven...but he was in a kind of sissy hell – one being conducted by his sister, Alyssa.

Suddenly, there was a crash of breaking glass, and a few seconds later everything went black. High-pitched squealing surrounded him as frightened girls ran around in a frenzy. Eventually, they trailed off as the sorority sisters sought refuge in their bedrooms, leaving Robert alone in the darkness of the communal area. “Hey!” He heard a female voice very close to him and a bright light was shone directly in his eyes. “I've got one. Quick! Let's grab her and get out of here!” Robert felt three sets of hands grab the smooth skin of his arms and legs and begin to drag him away.  

The Isolationist (Bimbo Note)

 24/25

This continues my Bimbo Note story. All the previous captions are linked on my index page.

“You know this is kind of weird, right?” Chuck turned to face Azalea at the entrance to his building. “It is usually the guy who walks the girl home. Truly you are a dominant to the absolute core!” He grinned, his blue eyes blazed as Azalea blushed before leaning into a long deep kiss.

Azalea had only been dating Chuck four months but this had already become their ritual. Whenever they parted, she would walk him back to his apartment whether it was first thing in the morning or last at night, they would kiss and then he would wave to her from his balcony as she waved back from the street.

“Well, you know I need to make sure you get back safe!” Azalea smiled coyly. “There are all sorts of scary people out there.” She glanced across the street and Chuck followed her gaze to where an impossibly old man was trying and failing to get an equally ancient lawnmower to cut his grass. They laughed together and then kissed again.

For the first time in her memory, Azalea was happy. Chuck loved her dark sides, he was cool with her being on OnlyFemmes and even though he didn't know about...the book, she shared every other part of her with him. Besides that, the sex was other-wordly.

“I love you!” The words hit her like a fist. She stepped back from Chuck to get a better look at him and he stared back with unwavering confidence. “You don't have to say anything back. I just want you to know!” He kissed her again and then he was gone – through the glass doors and into the lobby of his building towards the row of elevators.

Azalea swallowed hard and fell against the side of the building. Oh, Chuck! She screamed internally. Why'd you have to go and say that? Her lips pressed together as her mind raced over what to do next. No-one had ever said those three words to her before, and that was fine. She knew she would never be able to say them back. But now? What did it mean? How could she let someone get that close? Panic seized her, and after a moment of hesitation, she pulled the Bimbo Note from her bag and scrawled Chuck Winston on an empty page.

Walking down the street, Azalea allowed herself one last look back as she had on countless visits to Chuck's building. A figure was crouched on the second floor balcony staring blankly at her through the railing, large breasts cupped in a leopard print bra that had fallen off one shoulder. Azalea wiped a single tear from her cheek, gave a small wave, and continued on her way.

The Kissogram Part 4

 

Joe stood by the bar feeling the true weight of the kind of transformation the best part of a grand could buy. Penny and Deanna had spared no expense getting him ready for the Valentine's Ball. In spite of the fact the addictive red lipstick had fallen in their laps free of charge, they had truly bought into the philosophy of spending big to make it big. The incident with the car seemed long forgotten and they seemed completely fixated on making as much money as possible, only even bringing it up whenever Joe needed a bit of extra motivation to play along.

Firstly, they had taken him to a salon at the mall and somehow the least humiliating part of his day turned out to be standing nude but for a pair of paper briefs while he was sprayed with jets of fake tanning cream. Once it had dried, he was led to a seat where Penny and Deanna were waiting with a pair of excited beauticians. They chattered gleefully as they threaded in hair extensions and applied thick makeup that morphed his features beyond recognition – leaving only his lips bare to be painted red later on. He never heard them mention it being permanent, but regular makeup wasn't supposed to hurt as it was applied, right? When they had finished, he looked more like Malibu Barbie than regular old Joe. The outfit the girls selected didn't help that either – a glittering mini-skirt and matching tube top, chosen after plenty of other outfits had been trialled, of course... When Joe had questioned the large cup size, they brought out their coup de gras – huge breast forms that the salon girls helped blend into his new skin tone. Once in place, they were heavy and made balancing on stilettos extremely difficult. Joe was feeling the weight of his transformation, that was for sure.

The Valentine's Ball was heaving with people – mostly young men all hoping to get some quality time with the guest of honour. As with the fair, a long line formed in front of him next to the bar and guy after guy handed over cash to his sister before pulling the helpless Joe, startled and off-balance from the heavy breastplate, into a long deep kiss. The prices had doubled since the fair and the men wanted their money's worth, yet he still seemed to find the same punters coming back again and again.

“Hey there, Babe!” A tall young man stood at the front of the line. Joe's red-lined mouth dropped open. It wasn't the first punter of the night he had known but this was the captain of the school basketball team – a guy who had taken great pleasure pushing him around over the years. And now here he was, ready to make out with him. Joe felt a familiar fear creep into his stomach as the man looked him deep in the eyes. For a moment, he was sure he recognised him. And then, like the others, he handed Penny the cash and hooked an arm around him to pull him into a tight kiss – with the added bonus of a hand that crept up under his skirt and onto his pantied ass. Joe's eyes shot wide and suddenly he was looking right at the guy. He saw his pupils dilate as he tasted something he clearly enjoyed and Joe was pulled in even closer to the taller boy's body. Something hardened against his hip as a hungry tongue invaded his mouth. And then the man pulled away – still panting like a wolf. “Oh yeah!” He licked some of the transferred lipstick from his bottom lip and grinned, pulling out his wallet. “I'll give you another $200 right now if you take a trip with me to the restroom and transfer some of that lipstick to another part of my body...if you catch my drift!” Before Joe could even flinch, Penny snatched the cash and pushed him into the man's waiting arms.

The Kissogram Part 3

 

Penny and Deanna knew the lipstick was no Golden Goose. With no discernable markings or branding visible, there was no hope of getting any more of the mysterious cosmetic. When it was gone, it would be gone for good, and so, they knew they needed to cash in while they could. Every touch up and reapplication onto Joe's exhausted lips was a step closer to the final gold egg. They knew they needed to go big.

“This time with feeling!” Penny waved her arms like a movie director. “This is going viral...Instagram, tiktok...hell, I will put this on OnlyFemmes if I have to... Whatever gets the punters into Friday's Valentine's club night!” She glared at her brother who stood like a rabbit in the headlights in front of the camera tripod. Joe stared back glumly with what resembled a sullen pout. The threat of reporting his drunken collision with his sister's car still hung above his head like a guillotine. How else would the girls have made him subject himself to another makeover? This time he was a blonde with big floppy lace bunny ears. Deanna had managed to stuff him into an old Halloween costume – a black catsuit in matching lace that squeezed him all over. The material irritated his freshly shaven skins and he kept rubbing himself like a cat in heat. His lips were not red now, of course. The girls didn't dare waste any of the precious lipstick on something like this, but they were a glossy pink that plumped them out as if they had been stung by a bee. “Alright...action!” Penny called out, before adding. “Go get 'em, girl!”

“Hey, you!” Joe muttered, leaning in close to the camera lens. He couldn't believe he was doing this. After practising under the girls' instruction half the afternoon, his voice actually sounded soft and somewhat feminine. There was no audience other than the two girls and yet the performative nature of what he was doing almost made this worse than being kissed by a hundred guys. Almost... He looked up to see Penny making a waving motion with her hand indicating he should keep going. “Yes, you!” He continued his script. “Whether you're lonely, or just looking for something a bit extra, come find me at Friday night's Valentine's ball. I'll be by the bar all night where you can come give me a little kiss – for a small donation of course.” Joe blushed as he heard Deanna make a lude comment under her breath about the kinds of donation he could expect. Not wanting to start from the top, Joe cleared his throat and kept going. “Just one smooch with me and I will make your dreams come true. I will be a hookup you'll never forget and I know you'll come back for more. Come find me on Friday night, I will rock your world.” He finished by pushing out his lips as Penny has showed him.

“And cut!” His sister declared. “That will bring the boys in for sure! And the lipstick with keep them coming! With the money we made from the fair, we can give you a proper transformation that will drive them wild!” Joe visibly shrank at the idea his makeover could somehow get even more extreme. “Deanna, make sure that video is seen by everyone we know!” Penny barked out orders. “Oh, and put it on Joe's school network. Let's see how popular we can make my dear brother amongst his peers!”