Whatever Happened to the Hot House? Part 2 (Hot House)

 

Harley tried to glide across the red carpet naturally but his gait seemed as forced as the smile plastered on his face. As head show-runner of the new hit reality show 'Hot House' it was normal that the paparazzi should gravitate to him – it was the annual television awards after all, and yet they buzzed around him for a very different reason. Hushed whispers were shared by the members of the press. Was this a stunt? Some kind of promotion for the new season of Hot House? Harley flushed as they snapped picture after picture, wishing for the carpet to transform into lava and swallow him whole – hideous outfit and all.

He could see himself reflected in their huge lenses. It was like a Christmas fairy had vomited all over him. The thick glossy pantyhose were only marginally less eye-catching than the glittering bodysuit that hugged and squeezed his figure into something he could never have imagined possible. His lips were painted to match his outfit and the rest of his face was caked in enough makeup to make his smile feel like it had been rendered in concrete. And yet, as he stood there a public spectacle, the national gossip rags getting their fill of a story that would no doubt run and run and further inflate the notoriety of Hot House, the nation's latest obsession, Harley knew that it was what was beneath the garish outer-layers of his outfit that was the source of his humiliation.

When Hot House ended prematurely, it had been Harley's idea to make a grab for the remaining contestants' social media accounts. And why not? It was right there in their contracts. The social media accounts would be returned to the show's winner upon culmination of the series – except the season didn't officially end and there was no winner apart from the company's shareholders. Rules were rules...

Keeping the socials for 'all' of the contestants was his downfall. He had thought some of them might come to his office to beg so when Emi knocked on his door, he thought nothing of it. When she poured herself into his lap, he drooled with anticipation of how far she might be willing to go to get her accounts back. He had been thrilled as she slowly stripped off his clothes, breathing softly in his ear as she covered his eyes and pushed his head back. He had moaned heavily in anticipation of ecstasy – right up to the instant he heard the antiseptic click of the cold metal device being locked over his scrotum.

From that moment, Emi had him by the balls – quite literally. Reacquiring her social media accounts had just been the beginning and she had set about transforming him into the sparkling creation that now simpered along the red carpet of the award show..

“Harley!” Someone shouted from behind the camera. “Are you aware of the clips of you Emi has just posted to her OnlyFemmes this evening? Some spicy stuff! Emi is claiming she is going to be running the new season of Hot House. Are you able to confirm? Will all the contestants end up looking like you? Harley?! How are you expecting to get contestants to sign up for that?!”

The Belle Ringer Part 3

 

Sometimes plans just play out perfectly. Todd wouldn't describe himself as lucky – he had just spent the last year being crafted into his sister's extremely feminine trojan horse after all, but the beauty pageant itself had been a huge success. Sure, he had spent the evening in a seemingly endless procession of humiliating outfits – his sister had been stationed backstage to help him change between rounds from the pink dress he had started in to a black one-piece bathing suit that left nothing to the imagination except his expertly tucked manhood, then another figure hugging spandex outfit for his pole-dancing performance in the talent round, and finally an outrageously sexy red dress that put end to any debate on whether Lauren had been adding hormones to his food throughout the year. Twelve months of practice at girlhood positioned Todd well in the contest and he could now walk in heels, twirl and flick his hair on instinct, but it was the talent round where things really came together.

Todd and Lauren's sabotage from the night before found the girl with the juggling clubs striking herself in the face during her performance after misjudging the flight of one the batons. By the time she came out for the final round, a heavy black welt had started to form around her eye. There were similar fates for the girls dancing with the hoop and the roller skates causing another girl to need crutches to walk out for the finale. In contrast, Todd expertly used months of classes to gyrate and twist suggestively around the pole. Of course, it was degrading and he wanted the stage to eat him whole every time he stuck his ass out, but at least he got through it unmamed. By the time it came to the judges' final decision, there was only one realistic challenge to his crown and it eventually fell on the town's mayor to split the decision. Todd actually squealed with delight as his lapdance from earlier in the evening came up trumps.

So then why after all that was he still wearing the sexy red dress from the final vote? And why, oh why, was he in the mayor's hotel suite? The time for Lauren to stand up and reveal their ploy had surely been immediately after the decision, when the crown sat on his head with the whole town watching. Yet here he was hours later with the winner's bouquet still clutched nervously in his hands having been whisked upstairs by the man he could now hear singing in the shower. Todd shuddered at the thought of his experience on the man's lap as the room's phone rang. Cautiously, he scooped up the receiver and heard his sister's voice. “Lauren,” he hissed. “Get me out of this. What are you doing?!”

“Hush!” She cooed. “Just let this play out a little longer. The town is already ours – their precious beauty pageant has just been won by my brother in a dress. But, I want that sleaze-ball mayor to pay personally. He tried to molest me and then kicked me out when I refused. I want my revenge and you will help me get it. Just get him in a compromising position and I will run in with a camera.” She hung up just as the mayor walked out of the bathroom with his gown open. Todd forced a demure smile as he wondered how far Lauren would let things go before she intervened. Based on the last twelve months, his hopes weren't high...  

The Belle Ringer Part 2

 

The club was unrecognisable from the night before. The long shadows and dark corners were gone and the whole room was now lit up like a carnival with streamers hanging from the ceiling and colourful balloons littering the dance-floor. Todd, on the other hand, still resembled the knockout blonde he had been yesterday. Lauren had picked out a cute pink dress for him made of a stretchy faux-woollen material with matching gauntlets and a soft-satin skirt. It was sickly in its sweetness and Todd had wanted to vomit the first time he saw it. Parading himself in front of the whole town while wearing it was certainly going to be an ordeal. He had mentally dubbed it the last dress he would ever wear before Lauren reminded him that the beauty contest would feature several costume changes. Still, he was nearly free. Finally...

“In there...” Lauren eased him away from the main festivities where the stage was still being prepared and towards a quieter room with few people and a bar. “There is still work to be done to make sure you win tonight...to make sure we win tonight... I have spent the last year turning you into hot shit, but remember, this is a beauty contest – and beauty is in the eye of the beholder!” She pushed Todd into the room and remained outside. He scanned the bar area's few occupants and immediately knew what he was here to do. A sick feeling formed in his stomach.

“Well, well, well...” An overweight man in a tie belched from a seat next to the bar. “If it isn't one of tonight's hopeful starlets! Why don't you come over here and take a seat? ”Todd recognised the man as the town's mayor and more importantly, one of the evening's judges. He knew any wrong move would ruin everything and potentially end in Lauren ruining his life with that video of him smoking weed. Reluctantly, he tottered over in his bejewelled four-inch heels, feigning shyness by playing with a lock of his bleached hair, and began to sit in the seat next to the man. “I'm sorry, I seem to have given you the wrong idea...” The mayor smiled coyly. “I meant here.” He patted his lap with his free hand. Todd smiled politely and before he could chicken out, he lowered himself onto the man. “Oh, this is very nice...” The mayor chuckled and pulled Todd deeper into his lap. He could feel the soft material of his skirt riding up and before he knew it, only the silk of his panties separated him from the man's lap. Two strong arms wrapped around his waist and something hard probed urgently between his asscheeks. “Very nice indeed.”

“I think I am starting to understand why you hate this town so much.” Todd muttered to his sister when he finally left the room. Shame at being so publicly degraded weighed heavy on him and a queasy feeling sat in his stomach. To think, after that, he still had to perform for the mayor and other judges like him. “I feel dirty doing that to get ahead. Hey, is that why you got disqualified last year? For trying to get an advantage like that?”

“No!” Lauren said coldly as she reorganised his skirt and brushed at his hair. “I was disqualified because I refused to do that...”

The Belle Ringer Part 1

“I still don't get it...” Todd muttered as he surveyed the darkness of the club around him, knowing that in just one more day it would be all lit up and he would be the central attraction. He played with a lock of his long blonde hair nervously. “If you hate this town so much, why do you want to win their annual beauty pageant so badly.”

“I see you are really getting into the dumb blonde persona...” Lauren sighed at her brother. “I'm not going to win their pageant – you are!” She chuckled as Todd blushed. It was truly something that after a year or this, she could still embarrass him. “I can't win. They banned me from competing, remember? But not you! Not my stupid pot-head brother. Just imagine how humiliated they will be when they find out that their tinpot bimbo parade was won by a guy. It will be the end of their stupid tradition! Even if you are hot...”

“But...” Todd began, but he had nothing. He knew by now when arguing with his sister was pointless. She had been preparing him for this for almost a year – a year of makeup, growing out and bleaching his hair, a year of walking in heels, a year of Lauren adding what he was sure were testosterone blockers to his food, a year leading up to tomorrow night. Lauren's creation was almost perfect – he was almost perfect - a cute blonde in a figure hugging white dress and legs to die for. He just needed to keep going for one more day and it would be all over. His year of hell would be over. All he had to do was make a spectacle of himself in front of the entire town. “But...what if I don't win?” He said finally.

“Oh, you're going to win!” Lauren replied confidently. “We both know how motivated you are. You hold up your end of this or that video I have of you and your friends smoking weed goes online and your college offer goes bye-bye. Besides have you seen yourself? Of course you have...” She waved her hand in a manner that implied Todd was hot and he blushed once more. “That said, we are here to remove all doubt.” She gestured to the nightclub around them. “This might be a club tonight but tomorrow its going to be pageant central and I just happen to know that a lot of the props are already here in preparation.” Lauren led him by the hand behind a curtain and sure enough there were boxes tagged with the names of several of the beauty queens. It quickly became apparent that they contained items relating to the talent portion of the show. Lauren immediately set about looking for ways to sabotage each of them – unscrewing part of a juggling slightly, bending a hoop, loosening the wheel on a roller-skate.

“Isn't that kind of dangerous?” Todd's heavily made up eyes flitted between his sister and the boxes.

“Not as dangerous as what will happen if you don't win tomorrow!” Lauren snapped. “If I were you, I would be more focused on your talent!” Todd blushed for a third and deepest time. Of course he was focussed on his talent. How could he not be? A year of pole dancing classes where you were the only guy left an imprint – even when everyone else though you were just another hot blonde in spandex...

 

Slot Shaming

 9/25

“Hey!” Gus spied the enormous figure of Bruno passing the open door of the surveillance suite and summoned him inside. Bruno sidled up behind his diminutive boss, who was perched on the edge of a stool like a budgie in front of a wall of monitors. Each screen depicted live footage of key areas of the casino's main floor. “Looks like Malone is up to his old tricks!” Gus tapped the central console. Bruno leaned in and then squinted, a puzzled look forming on his face. Malone was a notorious local swindler with a penchant for rigging slot machines, but the screen Gus was drawing his attention to showed an elegant young woman in a colourful form fitting dress sat at a row of slots.

“She's cheating?” Bruno frowned. His boss nodded and adjusted something on the screen's settings. The image changed and suddenly everything electronic within shot emitted a blue glow. “I see it.” Bruno exclaimed noticing the pistol shaped device in the woman's hand for the first time. “It's an electromagnetic trigger – exactly like the one Malone uses to stop the reels on the jackpot. But, I don't get it. Where is Malone? And who is the broad?”

“Watch.” Gus grinned like a Cheshire cat and dialled up the sensitivity of filter showing visible electromagnetic fields. Within seconds, the entire outline of the woman's body glowed blue like some kind of alien. “Do you see?” Gus asked. “It is some kind of realistic bodysuit device. That is Malone!”

“What the hell?!” Bruno's jaw dropped open. “But...he looks like a babe... Should I go grab him, boss?”

“Not yet,” Gus pressed his fingers together pensively. “First we send Bubbles.”

On the casino floor, Malone waved the magnetic device across the side of another slot machine and the siren of yet another jackpot rang out triumphantly. He grinned at the symbols all lined up and realised that this time he could see two of each. He blinked and then squeezed his eyes together. Even the facial muscles on this bodysuit felt real. It had been a convenient disguise - UltraReal bodysuits had vendors up and down the strip. Vegas was where people came to escape themselves after all. In his case, it was to escape his universally blacklisted face across every casino in town. He swayed on his stool and noticed for the first time that Bubbles the waitress had left him yet another gin and tonic. The high-roller treatment was nothing new to him, but that was seven now. Saluting his latest jackpot, he raised the glass to his plump lips as the room sloshed around him. A heavy, hairy hand fell onto his bare shoulder and spun him around. Through one half open eye he spotted a gold name-tag that read “Bruno”.

“Seems it's your lucky day!” the brute grinned cruelly. “Hurry!” He guided Malone up off his stool onto swaying legs. “You're due in the champagne room in five minutes. Lot's of horny guys just waiting for you to rub some of your luck off on them...”

Whatever Happened to the Hot House Part 1 (Hot House)

 The last time we saw Jared and the Hot House was in my four part series in Season 7. Here is a Part 4 but you can use the search functionality on the home page to find the rest.

All good things come to an end and Hot House was no exception. It wasn't that it stopped bringing in viewers – audiences were still lapping up watching Emi and her band of girls terrorize their five hapless sissies day and night. The problem was one of greed. The boys' torment made great television and yet the show's directors started to ask how they could make Hot House bigger and better – how could it make more money? The final nail was the news that the Network would be airing the lost Apprentits tapes in full and Hot House's lead showrunner chose to pull the plug so they could prepare a new show to compete. All of the show's remaining housemates were evicted early – with the show retaining the social media accounts of all of them, claiming them forfeited as a result of the show never properly ending. Essentially, there was no winner, so everyone was treated like a loser.

If Jared had thought things were tough the first time he left the Hot House, they were ten times worse the second time. Now, he had a pair of enormous breasts attached to his chest – the cost of re-entry when he had pleaded to be allowed back onto the show, and millions of people worldwide had seen him moaning like a common whore as Emi and her crew fucked him in the ass with their strapons. His implants had made him the house's favourite toy and the feeling was shared with the general public. Weeks after the show had officially ended, viral videos of him being ploughed from behind while the other sissies had their faces shoved into his tits flooded the internet. As you would expect, after their exit, there was no comradery between any of the sissies. None of them wanted to be reminded of their ordeal ever again. They wanted to disappear from the public eye and never come back. The tv show had kept their social media accounts and that was just fine. The difference for Jared was that he still had boobs – big ones.

With no income to speak of, desperation turned him to setting up a GoFundMe to raise money to pay for removal of the implants. His plight got plenty of public attention but next to no donations. Talk shows offered him air time to promote his cause but they insisted he do so as his feminised self.

“So...Jared...” The host addressed him as his eyes flitted over the studio audience. Everyone was staring at him. This was a mistake. Finally, his eyes settled on one of the cameras filming him. He could see himself in a screen attached to the device. The talk show's stylists had gone all out – glossy gaudy makeup made his eyes and lips look huge and the satin top he was wearing was squeezing his enormous tits to bursting point. The only thing that wasn't massive was the microskirt they had gleefully dressed him in. “So...” The host prompted once more to get his attention. “With a new season of Hot House on the way, and promising to be bigger and better, you must be getting some offers to return to the house? Surely, you have a figure in mind they would need to offer for you to join the Hot House for a third time?”

Director's Cut

 

“Look, guys...this is all a big mistake...” Kirk backed away from the two huge men. Both were totally naked, cocks like small veiny arms swinging between their legs. His ass bumped into a classroom desk and his arms shot back to catch himself. Like everything else in the room, it was a prop, and he forced a sheepish grin at the two guys. He had to get out of here – not just this room, but out of this bodysuit before things got any more out of hand. Even as his glossy red lips stretched wide in an empty grin, he was cursing his need to know the truth. Curiosity kills cats but it was about to do a lot worse to his newly acquired pussy if he didn't make a hasty exit.

“You will need to talk to the director about any changes to the scene.” One of the walking erections shrugged. “We just do as we're told...screw who we're told.” He smirked. Kirk nodded back, his whole body trembling. The suit's small breasts trembled with him and not for the first time in the hellish last twenty minutes, he marvelled at its realism. There was no wonder the two guys were looking at him like a hot cooked dinner, he looked exactly like a real fake schoolgirl and the experience felt as real as he looked.

“I can wait!” He replied in a light churlish whisper. Time seemed to slow down and for the first time in months, the idea that Lorna might be cheating on him was the least of his problems. Lorna was his girlfriend and until a few months ago, everything had been going great. Then she started going out at odd times of the night, coming back smelling...strange. Like sex? Kirk was sure it was another guy so one night he had followed her to a small warehouse on the edge of town. It was immediately obvious it was some kind of studio and Lorna had entered through some double doors and then another that had a sign “Actresses Only”. Unsure what to do next, Kirk had spied a rack of what looked like woman on clothes hangers. They were bodysuits, he had realised. He had read about them online – they were ultra-realistic costumes for perverts and anyone who needed to be someone else temporarily – as he had right then. Making a snap decision, he had grabbed the first bodysuit on the rack and taken it into a closet to stretch over his body.

“Here she comes.” One of the men that Kirk had come to realise were porn actors said. Finally, he thought. He could already feel the bodysuit's pocket pussy slowly expanding into his ass. Not only that, but he could not walk in these ridiculous boots. The image of being carted off to hospital like this flashed in his mind.

“I see you've chosen to use one of our bodysuits for the scene.” The woman behind the camera nodded. “That's fine. I get it. A lot of girls want to be able to work without worrying about friends and family seeing them online. Just know we deduct a small fee from your payment.” Kirk gulped. It was Lorna. She wasn't cheating on him. She was a freaking porn director. “Ready to start?”

“I...” The words wouldn't come. If he came clean now, their relationship was as good as over. If he said he no longer wanted to do the scene, he would have to return the suit right there and she would find out it was him – surely ending their relationship. He had to buy some time to come up with a plan. But how? “Alright...” He stammered weakly. “Let's do it.”

“Great!” Lorna smiled, adjusting the camera. “Let's start with you over there by the teacher's desk. Lance will be fucking your mouth and Steve will come in to get his hall pass signed. Then they will Eiffel Tower you over the desk and we'll go from there...”

The Wrong Panties Part 3

 

Callum bent at the waist involuntarily once more, this time dropping the phone he had been using for directions onto the moving walkway and giving any passersby an unobstructed view of his ass. He had experienced little control of his actions since donning those cursed white panties almost twelve hours earlier, but this was something else entirely. He had cut through the college buildings to make use of the moving walkways – anything to minimise the amount of walking he had to do, anything to minimise the amount of friction... Yet, he still felt like the buttplug was splitting him in half.

Callum hadn't confronted the sorority about the pills, of course. The panties would never allow him such a spine, though he had returned to the house and meekly dropped the drugs at Cynthia's feet. She had simply sighed, a resigned look on her face that said they were going to have to do things the hard way. She called two of the other girls, who led him to a large bathroom. When Cynthia returned, she parted his painted lips and forced a cold metal object into his mouth..

“I would leave it in there a few minutes...” Cynthia advised. “You won't want it to be cold. Not where it is going next.” She paused before adding. “...or dry.” Callum caught a sidewards glance at himself in the bathroom and saw what looked like a jewel protruding from between his lips. It took a moment for him to realise what it was and then his eyes went wide with panic – yet the Prison Panties held him in place, obediently awaiting his next ordeal. When Cynthia finally removed the large buttplug from his mouth, she unscrewed the bud from the stalk to reveal a hollow interior. Winking, she pushed the pack of pills inside before reassembling the sex-toy. Her comrades held Callum's arms tightly as the panties were pulled down just enough to expose its destination but not enough to lessen their hold over him. Cynthia mimicked a ball player winding up a pitch and slowly but firmly pressed the plug into Callum's waiting asshole...

'I'm a drug mule...' Callum thought miserably as he reached the top of the moving staircase. 'I'm a drug mule with six-inch heels strapped to my feet in a summer dress, my second dress of the day not counting the ones the sorority had me try on in the house, that doesn't even the cover the women's panties I am wearing that just happen to have me under some kind of chemically induced voodoo. Oh, and I am pregnant with a screwtop buttplug full of pills...' He arrived at the top and almost fell flat on his face. He couldn't breathe. It was as if the toy was squeezing the rest of his organs up into his lungs. He forced himself upright with a grunt and his asscheeks clenched even harder.

“You!” An authoritative voice called to him through the haze. “You're from Alpha-Phi-Omega, aren't you? Don't lie to me, Girly!” Callum raised his head to see a man in a campus security uniform striding towards him. “I know your sorority's racket and I know you know there's a toll.” The man paused and glanced around and Callum could tell he was looking for somewhere quiet they could go/ “It's the kind of toll you pay on your knees!” Callum wanted to scream – wanted to run, but the panties were already making him obey...

The Wrong Panties Part 2

 

Cynthia woke the rest of the sorority to introduce her prisoner. The girls quickly wiped sleep from their eyes when they saw her trophy all trussed up in black nylon and displaying an unnatural level of sycophancy. 'A guy?' 'In the pledge panties?' They repeated in wonder – mischievous ideas running through each of their heads at a mile a minute. Callum could only meet their stares for a millisecond at a time but it was long enough to know he didn't like what he saw. They were excited beyond belief to put him through who knew what kinds of trials, and as long as these freaking panties were wrapped around his ass and clutching his balls, he was completely helpless to resist even a bit. He may as well have been their puppet.

“She is going to fulfil the pledge!” Cynthia announced to the gasps of excitement of her sisters. “And, as you know, that's no easy task – not even for the hottest pledge. It's now 2am. I'd say we have ten hours to turn this wannabe sweetheart here into the hottest bitch on campus!”

That's when Callum truly became their puppet. Each sister seemed to have their own idea for turning him into the perfect girl and so he spent the rest of night being dressed and undressed in outfit after outfit. He wore cheerleader uniforms, he wore party dresses, he wore ballet leotards, he wore corsets, stockings, plaid skirts – the only constant was the white panties keeping him nice and compliant the whole time. After some time, he realised they were doing more than that – even though he was effectively their doll, a dozen hot college girls dressing and undressing him should have got a reaction out of him, yet his cock just hung there, as shrivelled and limp as he felt. The sorority eventually split into teams. One group of girls continued to work on his outfit but others began to apply gels and waxing strips to remove his hair, followed by lotions and perfumes – massaging femininity deep into his skin. More girls worked on his makeup and threaded extensions into his hair and then primping and curling until it was impossible to tell where they started and his natural hair ended. Finally, they came together to settle on a pretty polka dot summer dress with built in petticoats that made Callum feel like a girl from an old story book. He was ready for the pledge.

Once he understood what he was supposed to do, it became much clearer why the sorority wanted to make sure he could pass as one of them. He was to visit every frat house of campus and hook up with their leader, reporting back to the sorority house after each one to give the girls his feedback. Callum was mortified. He couldn't do it, and yet, he couldn't not do it. In a battle of wills, he was no match for the panties, and with no resistance, he felt himself tottering to the first house on four inch heels. The fraternities were clearly aware of the pledge and the whole house came out to watch their brother take Callum in his arms and lean over him to force a tongue inside his mouth. Callum even felt a hand slip into his padded bra. It was that grope that stuck with Callum as he clumsily simpered back to the sorority and then onto the next fraternity. How hadn't the guy figured him out? The girls had performed a skilled transformation but they weren't miracle workers. As he continued towards the next house, he slipped his hand into his own bra, curious to feel what his hookup had felt. He drew back his arm in shock, a small pack of pills clutched between his fingers. The penny dropped. He wasn't a pledge, he gasped to himself – he was a drug mule.

The Wrong Panties Part 1

 

“Of all the panties in all the world, you had to step into mine!” The girl smirked unsympathetically as Callum averted his gaze. The floor was still littered with the contents of the underwear drawer he had raided – colorful slithers of silk and spandex, alternative treasures he could have plundered. If only I had chosen one of those pairs, he thought miserably, I probably would have avoided this mess. “You probably don't remember those.” The girl continued. “They were called Prison Panties. A company called Smart Fabric released them a few years ago. They were designed to release hormones into the wearer to make them compliant and submissive. There was a full product recall when people starting using them to get people to commit crimes. Of course, we kept a few pairs around to have fun with our pledges. I never dreamed I would ever get the chance to use them on a boy...”

Callum cursed his luck. He had truly threaded the needle of misfortune. The girl hadn't introduced herself, she had other priorities from the second she laid eyes on him, but he knew who she was. She was Cynthia, leader of the Alpha-Phi-Omega sorority, and one of the baddest bitches on campus. She had also been his mission. As a college freshman and fraternity pledge, he had been tasked by his would be brothers to break into the sorority house and steal a pair of panties to hang like a victory flag from the frat house roof. His plan had started well, with summer arriving early, he had been able to slip through an open window and into the sleeping Cynthia's bedroom. He had even found her underwear drawer in the dark and selected a bright white pair of panties he knew would make an excellent trophy. That's when things started to go awry. On leaving Cynthia's room, he had got turned around in the corridor and to his horror, he heard the very girl he was here to steal from exiting her bedroom. Acting on impulse, Callum slipped through an open door to his left – the bathroom, realising too late that it was almost certainly where Cynthia was headed. If she caught him with the panties, the game was certainly up. He knew she would search his pockets and so he rapidly put them the one place he hoped she wouldn't look – on his body. The soft white engineered fabric started to take effect so quickly he never even got his jeans back on.

“You know you're not the first boy I have had in my bedroom,” Cynthia looked him up and down, “but you've definitely brought me the most pleasure.” Callum never did get his jeans back. He hadn't even had the chance to hope for them. From the second the white material had touched his skin, he had felt a change coming over him – a feeling like a crushing weight that broke any resistance in him. It was a ball and chain, holding him in place and filling him with weakness. He had been helpless to stop Cynthia putting him in his new clothes. He probably would have done it himself if she had asked. He had just sat there silently as she slid the nylons up his legs, squeezing him into the tight black hotpants that crushed his balls, meticulously painting his face with her makeup, applying the costume wig to his head.... When at last he again stood, it was to test his balance on the heeled boots Cynthia had tied to his feet. He wanted to beg forgiveness, but he couldn't do that so destroyed was his resolve. “You know?” She said. “You put on our pledge panties! You put them on willingly! I think that makes you a pledge, don't you?” Callum couldn't even bring himself to disagree.

Saving Grace Part 1 (Pink n Prissy Collective)

 8/25

This will be a three part story with the other two parts coming later in the season. It is a continuation of my Pink n Prissy Collective story, which is linked in full on my index page.

“All of us in the Pink n Prissy Collective have our style when it comes to making boys pretty.” Charlotte nodded sagely to Grace, who was still wearing an oversized hoodies and the expression of a frightened mouse. The recently liberated member of the group was having a hard time readjusting to the position of power that came with feminising guys and the other girls had agreed to take turns mentoring their friend. “Josie uses her physical power,” Charlotte continued, “she basically bullies boys into dresses. Terri is a tech wizard – I don't know how she does it, but if a gadget can humiliate a guy, she will find a way. And Cassie...she is devious and scheming. She is manipulative, psychological...but don't tell her I said that...”

Grace smiled timidly. “So, what does that make you? How do you dress up boys?”

“Me?!” Charlotte pressed her glossy pink lips together and stuck out her chest. “I use my charms!” She turned her attention to the figure that had just entered the loft space of the Pink n Prissy house, which Charlotte called her bedroom. The timid creature had smooth skin and heavy eye makeup and was dressed in a short white dress and strappy heels. It hesitated in the doorway before entering the room to make space for its partner, a taller but equally feminine creature wearing a daring black dress and hoop earrings, following behind. Both clutched matching purses awkwardly.

“So, are you going to show us your boobs now?” The first boy asked shyly. “You said you would if I brought a friend.” He beckoned to the blushing boy behind him and then to Grace. “Do we get to see hers too? We better. Putting all this stuff on was so humiliating. We had to get Jim's sister to help us with the makeup,” he nodded to his friend again. “The wigs are hers too.” The boys seemed to huddle together before them, holding their bags like pathetic defensive shields against their embarrassment.

“She sounds like someone I would like to meet!” Charlotte beamed and reached for the bottom of her vest top as if she was about to pull it up. “But...” she let her hands fall to her side, “I don't think you are ready just yet. All our boys have to say the pledge...but it can't just be for me and Grace. All the Collective must see it. That's why we need to go to the mall to get Cassie and then to the library to get Terri.” Both boys blanched at the idea of being paraded around such public places in their current state. Jim glanced at Charlotte and then Grace, his eyes wide, before evidently deciding that seeing two sets of boobs was not worth the inevitable humiliation and started to remove the hoop earrings. Charlotte shook her head sadly. “Fortunately, Josie is right here at home. She just won't be best pleased that a couple of cutie-pies like you two think you can spoil all Jim's sister's hard work without first the others meeting you...and you doing the pledge...and maybe a few pictures!”

Grace gave a small smile as both boys froze in horror and the heavy steps of Josie, the Collective's leader, echoed through the house as she ran up the loft stairs to meet their prey.

Whatever Happened to James? (New Orders)

 Not so much a power couple... 

This is a Flashback Friday for New Orders

James knew there would be crowds but this took the cake. The sight of all those people stopped his heart cold deep in his corseted chest. He knew Sophia wanted an audience – she had gleefully taken him through the guest list, painstakingly outlining how his friends and family would be in the front row to witness his ultimate humiliation. This was her presenting to the world who the man she was about to marry really was – in all its gaudy detail. This was his unveiling and she wanted as many people to see it as possible. But did she really have to invite the local press?

Sophia had planned their wedding to the minute detail and having discovered James's secret fetish and his secret account funding it, she had all the money she needed to get what she wanted and the leverage she needed to force James's compliance. Flowers...check, cake...check, designer wedding dress with matching bridal lingerie...for James...also check. He had thought she was joking at first. Sure, their home life had taken a dramatic turn since the day Sophia had discovered his secret Glamazon account, but up until then she had kept his humiliation domestic. The neighbours knew, of course – Sophia loved to parade him front of their bay window in whatever new ultra-feminine outfit she had picked out for him, but that what nothing compared to walking him down the aisle in front of literally everyone he knew wearing a thigh length dress barely long enough to conceal his white silk panties.

James knew he could have stopped it any time – walked away from Sophia and her iron grip of his genitals. Yet, as the date grew closer and more and more layers were poured over his upcoming debasement, he became increasingly sure he wouldn't. The dance lessons where a bemused instructor taught Sophia to lead him around the ballroom, breastforms arriving in the mail and Sophia practising brushing foundation over them so they would be indistinguishable from his body, scheduling of his hair and makeup for the morning of the big day. He should walk away, but he couldn't. Sophia had set out to torment him but even since discovering his secret, she had become his greatest nightmare and his wildest fantasy.

There were gasps as James appeared in the aisle, and deservedly so. He had seen his reflection – he was beautiful, every inch the blushing bride. Sophia had crafted him well and he glowed under his glossy blonde hair and immaculate makeup. Hundreds of eyes were on him as he inched forward in his patent leather heels. He could see his brother, his school-friends, each with their jaws hanging slack. He knew the confusion that was running through their minds – the cocktail of desire and derision. It was the same mixture he had experienced many times.

“My bride...” Sophia stated, but she wasn't talking to him. She was at the head of the aisle dressed in a stylish tuxedo talking to a stunned reporter holding a microphone. “I know she looks gorgeous now, but our wedding night is going to be something. Let's see if her face looks so perfect after I have spent some time grinding it between my ass!”

The Unusual Suspects

 7/25

Standing in front of the dresser, Officer Chet Stephens couldn't deny that the station's makeup artist had done a fine job on him. Tubes of cosmetics lay around him like spent ammunition, remnants of a battle of which he surely was the loser. A glossy brown wig hugged a skull cap concealing his own hair and below his face was coated with layer upon layer of products he didn't even know the names of postmarked with thickly painted red lips. He wanted to choke on the perfume that the beautician had sprayed liberally on the lacy negligee. What even was the point of that? Could the witness really smell him through the one-way glass of the viewing room?

“Ready?” Detective Pam Larsson entered the room and immediately broke into wide grin. She took her time looking him up and down. First at his thick feminine mask, then the round breast forms that plumped out his chest, and finally at his long slender legs encased in shiny silk stockings. “Oh, Darling, you're ready!”

It hadn't supposed to be like this. As a third generation police officer and station rookie, Chet Stephens was desperate to prove his worth to the force and make his mark just like his father had, and his grandfather before that. And so, from day one, he listened, he asked questions, and fatefully, he volunteered. Police line-ups were a rite of passage for any newly minted officer. The routine was always the same – one witness, one suspect, and five alternates. Sometimes the alternates were suspects of other crimes, but more often they were police officers standing in to make up the numbers. So when Detective Finn Collier had entered the break room looking for volunteers, Chet had immediately offered himself up.

Things started to go wrong almost immediately. Despite being new to the force, Chet knew lineups didn't take more that a few minutes, so when he was standing next to five other men for over quarter of an hour, he knew something wasn't right.

“It's inconclusive,” Finn said gravely as he exited the room. “This is an assault case at a cabaret club. The wit says he only saw the perp in full drag queen get up. We need to bring in our undercover prep team and run this again.” The penny hadn't dropped on what exactly this meant until Chet was being pushed into a makeup chair and having his uniform unbuttoned by an overly-enthusiastic makeup artist, and by then he was already regretting ever volunteering.

“Come on then!” Detective Pam Larsson smiled, shaking her head in disbelief of her junior colleague's transformation. “Just wait until the boys in vice get sight of you. They will be chomping at the bit to get you undercover. They've wanted someone in those cabaret clubs by the river for months. You already have a reputation as an eager beaver too!”

Whatever Happened to Wilson? (Playing the Market)

 This Flashback Friday is for an old two part caption I am particularly fond of. Part 1, Part 2

For as long as he lived, Wilson didn't think he would ever hate a sound more than that of high-heel shoes clacking on wooden flooring – especially when said shoes were attached to his feet. Even the clang of prison doors slamming shut every night for the last ten years didn't come close. Even the sobbing of his cellmate couldn't touch that taunting clicking of leather on timber – and yet here he was, once more enduring it.

Wilson held the invite to the Gala in one hand and the hotel keycard in the other. He was manicured with French tips as instructed and his legs had a gloss to them only outdone by the metallic sheen of the silver dress that clung to his body. It wasn't a surprise that it fit perfectly – his tormentor had clearly done their homework and after all his body maintained its feminine proportions even after a decade behind bars. The evidence against him had been airtight, delivered with a red ribbon to the authorities, and his lawyer had not only advised him to plead guilty to all charges, but to maintain the facade of his new female identity. In the year leading up to his arrest he had been on accelerated hormone replacement and had multiple cosmetic procedures to reshape his body and face. He had neither the money nor time to reverse them before his trial and doing anything but continue to live as a women would have resulted in a truly hellish prison experience.

And now he was free... Wilson rolled his eyes at the thought. He was on parole, and that meant continuing to keep up appearances – at least on the rare occasion he left the house. Fortunately, the internet enabled him to live like a recluse most of the time. And then the Gala invitation arrived – a neat little printed card packaged up with the perfectly measured silver dress and instructions how to prepare himself for the event, meaning a string of trips to beauticians and treatments he could barely afford now. And for what? Why shouldn't he have tossed the invite and burn the dress? Well, it was from the person who delivered him to the authorities all those years ago. If he attended the gala, they promised to reveal themselves as the person responsible for his downfall.

Wilson slid the card into the hotel door and it opened with a buzz. The Gala was due to begin in an hour and he had just enough time to reapply his makeup and walk around a little without those damned heels. He slipped the invite into his tiny purse and froze in his tracks. An equally surprised figure stood before him in a matching silver dress. They were like a perfect reflection – not only in appearance but also the ordeal they had gone through in the last ten years.

“It's you...” Wilson stated glumly at Douglas. “Suppose you got one of these too?” He pulled the invite back out of his purse and the crestfallen look on his double's face was all the confirmation he needed. They both groaned in unison just as a polite knock preceded the room's door opening.

“Ladies.” An officious looking man greeted them. “I am here to collect and take you downstairs. Everyone is very excited for your joint keynote speech about overcoming corruption in the boardroom.”

The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 3

 6/25

“Why did you do it? Why did you screw us?” Chris asked Angela one evening while they were alone. With Hannah and her relentless appetite for cock gone from the island, the nights at the beach camp had become far more muted affairs and they were sitting quietly around the remains of a campfire. Angela stared back at the reserved young man and considered making a crack that she was the only female contestant that hadn't screwed him – having witnessed his double-teaming of Celia in the first game and then his nightly visits to Hannah's hut first hand. But she knew what he was talking about. “Why did you sabotage the Network's shows so Femnonymous would do what they did?” He saw the practised look of innocence begin to spread across her face and cut it off at the pass. “Martin and Celia may have been too focussed on their career advancement to see what you were doing, but not me. You would be amazed what an introvert notices. I'm sure Martin and Celia have a lot more time to listen now...” He made to stand up.

“Wait!” Angela yelped. “Alright, I will tell you!” She didn't know what Martin and Celia would do if Chris went to them with this, but it wouldn't be anything good. The odds were stacked in her favour given her past history of siding with Femnonymous, but she wasn't infallible. Certainly she wasn't if all three remaining contestants conspired against her. “You're young, Chris...and naïve. You worked for the Network like, what? Four months? It's probably your first job right? Dream come true... Well, that was me once... Only I was a little more like Celia that I will even admit to her. Anyway, three years ago I started out as a junior producer. Spot that Sissy had just gone viral and it was just me and another girl called Mandy...The Network was nowhere near as big as it is today yet. Still small enough that the company CEO would attend the company Christmas party. I even met him at my first one. Guy called Bryce Murphy. He apparently even took quite a shine to me. Promised me a big new promotion before the second season of Spot that Sissy.” Chris was looking at her raptly. “Only it never happened. Mandy got it instead. I was even happy for her until I found out she had been blowing him since the party. When I asked him about it, he had no idea who I even was. The Network is a cancer, Chris. It makes a mockery of women on and off the screen. It is rotten to its core and I want watch it decay!”

“But Bryce Murphy isn't here. We are!” Chris said said finally after listening to her sermon. “If we get turned into human sextoys, how exactly does that help your cause?” He stood quietly and left Angela to stoke at the dying embers of the campfire.

The third game was a most unwelcome one – quite literally. Before things even began, all four contestants were fitting with bejewelled buttplugs, along with a healthy glob of the lubricant from the second round. Angela felt betrayed. She had never been invaded like this before. How could they do this to her? She was their mole and she was being degraded like a whore – like the rest of the producers... This time she was paired with Martin against Chris and Celia. The game was simple – each plug had a matching trigger that had been hidden somewhere on the island. Each team was tasked with finding the ones corresponding to the opposition team and activating the one for the contestant they wished to be consigned to the throne. Angela was amazed to find that Martin took to the game like a duck to water, in spite of the invasion to his backside. He led her through jungle and around buildings like he had been fitted with a gps rather than a sextoy. Clearly he been doing his homework. Within two hours they had both triggers but instead of operating them, Martin led Angela to a dark area behind some trees.

“Don't speak. Just listen.” He whispered. “This is a blindspot from the cameras.” He glanced around them at the trees. “We have a few minutes before those latex bitches notice we aren't on any of the feeds and come looking for us, so I will make this quick. I have found a way off this place – a way off the island.” His eyes locked with Angela's. “We can get out of here! Celia is in, but I haven't spoken to Chris. I saw you with him this morning. Can we trust him?” Martin produced the pair of triggers and Angela struggled to resist grabbing Celia's and slamming down the button. She couldn't wait to see that bitch get transformed. But a way off the island? No way could she let that happen. She considered the options and a sudden urgency overwhelmed her. What if Celia and Chris were having this exact conversation somewhere else on the island about her? What would Chris say? Sure she was a mole, but there was no way Femnonymous would risk losing face by sparing her if she lost this game. Angela shot out a hand and pressed Chris's trigger...

Chris clutched the furry handcuffs in one hand and the whip in the other, and tried to steady himself for what he needed to do next. Months had passed since the throne had transformed him but the compliance chip still felt alien. He knew he looked like a different person now – a slender women with long dark hair, a cute butt and a penchant for wearing tight latex outfits that squeezed his tidy breasts and brand new pussy – but the chip made him behave like a different person too. In his former life he had been a quiet introverted junior producer, barely more than an intern – and now he was a hyperactive loud dominatrix with a basket of dildos about to get to work on her latest client. Or so the chip demanded... The chip was the real dominatrix here... And still he obeyed, he yelled, he whipped, he insulted, he spanked...and ultimately he sat on the dick until the customer was satisfied. It humiliated him that he found that bit the easiest. He wanted to hate Femnonymous for what they had done to him – but in his rare moments of quiet when the chip wasn't whirring and issuing demands, his thoughts of revenge were for someone quite different...

Back on the island, Angela awoke with a start. She immediately felt vulnerable, being forced to sleep naked will do that, but even more so when someone is standing over you shaking you awake. She tried to scream but a strong hand clamped over her mouth.

“We're getting out of here right now!” Martin hissed in her ear. “Let's go! Celia is waiting outside...”

Whatever Happened to Frank? (Come Together)

 Today's Flashback Friday is a for a two part story I wrote nearly 12 years ago. You can find it here. Part 1 Part 2

Frank slid slowly into Louise and she moaned softly. She was mounted on top of him and juddered with pleasure as he reached for her platform heels to pull her closer – her cries reaching almost hysteria. This was always the most painful part – hearing her choreographed ecstasy, hot and balmy in his ear. He was sure she was enjoying this on some level – it wasn't all fake, yet he was just a prop to her. In the corner of the room, the camera watched on – an audience of one broadcasting to thousands.

Frank and Louise's couples therapy had not been successful. They had escaped that charade with little dignity and nothing of the promised repair to their marriage, and within a year they had agreed to separate. The problem was neither of them could afford it. Their savings spent trying to save their relationship, Frank couldn't afford to move out and rent his own place, and Louise didn't have the income to keep paying the mortgage without his help. They were stuck.

Six months later Louise opened an OnlyFemmes account. She didn't ask Frank's permission. She didn't need it. Desperate to move on with her life, she resorted to posting softcore nude content online that grew decidedly less soft as the subscribers failed to come – pun intended. Short on ideas, she brought all sorts of props into her content. She even filmed a video wearing one of the awful pink wigs from the couples therapy she had somehow held onto. That was when she received a DM from someone claiming to have seen the film with the double ended dildo that had been shot during the fake therapy. The sender offered big bucks for more content with her 'sister'.

Frank told himself it was the money that convinced him to take part, but deep down he knew it was the chance to be close to Louise again. He even agreed to take the hormone pills to make his body look soft and curvy under the fussy lens of the camera. They worked wonders and once his body was waxed and groomed he looked every inch the lithe and sexy 'sister' Louise's OnlyFemmes promised.

Louise grew her hair and dyed it hot pink and so Frank got to wear the wig for every shoot now. He wore other things too – sexy underwear and towering heels, but worst of all was the sheath. The hormones had shrunk his manhood to a laughable parody and he was supposedly Louise's female sibling anyway, so in many of their videos he wore a rubber prosthetic over his shrivelled cock to pleasure his ex-wife with – such was the case for today's clip. Louise was grinding onto him furiously now, her weight pushing his transformed body into the soft velvet of the couch. She teased him with a nipple between his parted pink lips, yet when her eyes met his, they were cold. He was just a means to an end to her – a prop. He was the pathetic embodiment of the fake dick he was screwing her with. Frank knew he wasn't stuck any more. They had made good money from the OnlyFemmes account. He could leave anytime he wanted. And yet, as Louise forced his face into her breasts and bucked her way to a screaming orgasm in his lap, he knew he never would....   

Dungeons and Damsels Part 3

 

“But the Black Veil is not only perilous... it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part!” As the hooded woman on the screen continued the tale, Toby had to admit he felt pretty powerful right now. Despite the lithe female form he now occupied, clothed in the skimpiest of bikinis barely concealing a pair of heaving breasts, he did hold a giant sword. There was also Steve... His friend, who had started out as a knight, had just rolled a seventeen on the pink lust dice and was now a lingerie clad bride kneeling at Toby's feet, clutching at his legs with one hand while moaning 'My Queen...My Queen!' over and over, her other hand hovering just over the hem of her panties. “And already, you are being watched!” The woman was smirking. “Shapes gather in the distance. Slow. Deliberate. Curious. Creatures of this region know the legends well… and one truth above all: The Demon Queen does not travel with male companions.” Devon glanced at Toby nervously. “A queen with guards invites suspicion. A queen with prisoners invites fear. So before those figures draw close, you must wear the shackles, and be prepared to explain how you were broken.”

“The shackles...” Devon repeated dumbly looking at the pair he had retrieved from the box. “At least they are better than...that!” He stared blankly at Steve, who was now trying to run his tongue up the inside of one of Toby's toned thighs. Fearing similar consequences, Devon quickly slipped the rusted shackles around the huge muscular ankles of his mercenary's body. The ethereal glow returned, this time filling the entire house. When it eventually faded, the hooded woman was in the room with them.

“Excellent!” She smiled, dropping her cloak to reveal she was otherwise completely naked. Toby instinctively looked away, only to find himself staring directly at his friend...or at least what had become of him. Devon, far from the towering hulk he had been, was now a short but curvy woman with floppy blonde hair and thick layered makeup. Her voluptuous body was squeezed by a black leather corset and she shuffled awkwardly in thigh high latex boots that were still clasped together at the ankles by the shackles. A look of panic filled Devon's now pretty face and he blushed hard – the belt fastened around his throat giving his head the effect of a bulging red balloon. “My Dear...” The naked Dungeon Master demanded in an authoritative tone. “Pull up your gloves! You are a prisoner, not a whore!” Devon reached to the tops of the vinyl gloves that had slackened on his arms and hurriedly tried to pull them back over his elbows. “Which reminds me...” The woman continued while picking up a small black and gold dice from the box. “You still need to roll to determine how submissive a prisoner you will be!” She dropped the dice onto one of Devon's gloved hands but it immediately slid off the shiny material to the floor. “Ooops!” She gasped in mock horror. “Twenty!” She licked her lips as Devon's new form seemed to shrink and cower before her. “Now...” She grasped the cat-o-nine-tails and nodded to Toby with the feminised Steve curled around his feet like a kitten and then to the trembling latex clad Devon quivering before her own. “Now the real quest begins. Or maybe I should say...conquest!” The thunder boomed once more and the room glowed with a new intensity as the three friends felt themselves being sucked towards the monitor in the corner of the room.

Dungeons and Damsels Part 2

 

“This is getting creepy!” Exclaimed Devon carrying the wooden box into the house. It looked tiny in the giant hands his transformation into the mercenary had bestowed upon him and he clutched it to his muscled chest like a newborn before carefully setting in down on his friend's dining table.

“Now it's getting creepy?” Toby's jaw dropped open. “I have tits!” He swatted Steve's reaching hand away defensively before pressing his own into his bikini top. “They feel real...I think... I've never had boobs before!” He stopped groping himself to watch Devon emptying the contents from the box – several multi-coloured, multi-sided dice, an ancient looking ring, a cat-o-nine-tails whip, a pair of shackles and a small collection of coins.

“The night hangs heavy...” All three boys whirled around to face the computer monitor. The hooded woman was speaking – she seemed closer now, more alive as if she were about to pop right out of the screen. Thunder crashed once more outside. “The road ahead swallowed by a dark that seems to breathe. You stand on the edge of the Black Veil, a place unclaimed, unwatched...unforgiving. Those who enter speak of shadows that listen, and eyes that linger just beyond the firelight. And yet here you are...a Mighty Knight, bound by honour...an Indomitable Mercenary, hardened by survival...and a Demon Queen, whose presence alone unsettles the air. Three figures. One dangerous road. But the Black Veil is not only perilous… it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part. A lone queen draws questions. So before you take another step...which of you will pose as the Demon Queen's tryst? Which of you will wear her ring?”

“I guess she means this!” Steve held up the old box Devon had retrieved from the box. “I guess it should be me. What kind of a knight would I be if I didn't protect my queen?” He slipped it on his finger and his body instantly took on an ethereal glow. His armoured form shrank until all that remained was a delicate feminine form dressed in bridal lingerie. Steve blinked in stunned silence from within his new body, pawing helplessly with a gloved hand at a pair of silk stockings that now encased his legs.

“As the Demon Queen's new bride, your devotion to her is unmatched!” The Dungeon Mistress announced from inside the monitor. “Roll the green dice to decide how deep your dedication runs!” Toby put down his giant sword and handed a ten sided dice to the cowered feminised Steve, who barely touched it, allowing it to fall to the floor and display a nine. No sooner had the dice stopped moving then Steve felt an electricity run through him, captivating him. He looked up at the warrior queen who had handed him the dice with steely loyalty. He would die for her. “Of course...” The cloaked woman on the screen continued. “Devotion alone is not enough to sustain romance. The Demon Queen's bride must lust her – she must yearn her touch move than life itself. Roll the pink dice to decide how deep the need to satisfy your queen really goes!” Willed forward my his newfound devotion, with quivering lace covered hands, Steve picked up the giant twenty sided dice, and rolled it on the floor...

Dungeons and Damsels Part 1

 

“Okay, she's hot and everything...” Devon sighed at the AI generated cloaked woman that had appeared behind the heavy looking table on his friend's computer monitor. “But doesn't using a digital version of a dungeon master kind of defeat the point of table top gaming? At this point we may as well fire up the PlayStation...”

“Hey, no one was stopping you from putting a campaign together.” Toby shrugged. “Besides, it's free. If it's no good, we can stop and you can walk home in the storm.” As if to emphasise his point, thunder crashed outside and the two boys, along with their friend Steve looked warily at the blinking bulb swinging above Toby's attic.

The trio had been meeting almost every weekend to play out Dungeons and Dragons campaigns for nearly fifteen years, but since their buddy Ryan had left for college two months ago, they had been without a Dungeon Master. Ryan had promised to lead campaigns via Zoom calls but after three weeks of being away, he had plundered a fair maiden of his own and spending Saturday nights teeing up monsters for his old pals to knock down no longer held the same appeal. The boys had looked for a new fourth with no luck leading to Toby, inspired by their brief experience with a Zoom based DM, having the idea to seek out a virtual master to plot their dungeon crawling.

“Hey, it's starting!” Steve put down his beer and belched loudly. On the monitor, fog was circling around the cloaked woman as she rose from behind the table. Pulling her hood back to reveal frosty white hair and icy cool grey eyes, her sinister smile appeared to reach through the screen and forcibly hold their gaze. The mist continued to swell around her until it occupied the bottom half of the screen. The heads of three figures emerged from the fog above the command – 'CHOOSE YOUR CHAMPIONS!'

“The Mighty Knight, the Indomitable Mercenary...the Demon Queen.” Devon read aloud. “Well, the knight sounds generic as hell and while I don't know what Indomitable means, screw playing as a girl. I choose the mercenary!” As if hearing him, the character glowed on the screen. Steve quickly chose the knight and the armoured figure also glowed, leaving the party's host to select the Demon Queen.

“Grow up, guys.” Toby sighed. “It's just a gaaaamm...” But even before he could finish his sentence the room began to glow around them. All three boys felt a pulsing beneath their skin as their bodies slowly transformed – Devon into a bare chested brute covered in scars, Steve into a regal looking soldier wrapped in chain-mail...and Toby into lithe blonde creature dressed in little more than a tiny bikini ordained with skulls and a pair of gauntlets fashioned from a shiny black material. He blinked at the enormous sword that had appeared in his slender hands, and then turned to the computer monitor where a message had appeared. 'Prepare to receive your tools!' In spite of the storm raging outside, all three boys heard a thunderous boom at the front door...

The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 2

 5/25

Angela knew the remaining guys were fucking Hannah. It was some kind of end of the world shit. They knew they were doomed and Hannah had been a drooling insatiable mess since Angela had jammed three doses of the aphrodisiac into her. Femnonymous were keeping the remaining producers in bamboo huts on the beach. There were no doors or locks since there was nowhere for them to run to, and so all throughout the night, the restless frightened guys took turns in crossing the sand to screw the sex-crazed former office-mom stupid – or even stupider. Angela sat in the doorway of her hut and watched them come and go. Hannah would be roused to shrill screams of ecstasy and then they would leave again, sometimes even crossing paths, their gazes averted.

Celia watched too. Her usual stony bravado was much subdued since the first game. Angela wasn't sure if it was getting double teamed in front of the cameras that had done it or witnessing Jason's abrupt and dramatic transformation into a huge chested blonde sex doll. If they hadn't known the stakes before, they sure knew them now.

“If you try that shit you pulled on Hannah on me, I will crush you!” Celia called out flatly from her seat in the doorway of her hut. Angela just nodded silently. Hannah wasn't the first bimbo she had been responsible for creating. In her time working for the Network, she had been responsible for the sabotage of numerous shows that resulted in the unwilling transformation of the male contestants. It had been her that waved the red flag for Femnonymous to come swooping in and punish her stupid company. Sure, they had taken her too. But she supposed that was part of the grand plan. Once a mole, always a mole, right? Celia would be resigned to bimbodom like the rest of them. She thought being facefucked by Jason was bad? Just wait until Femnonymous turned her into some kind of playboy's silicone plaything... She would be praying for the day the worst thing to happen her was sucking Jason's dick. “What are you grinning at, bitch?” Celia called over and Angela realised her daydreams of Celia's inevitable future had surfaced as a dopey smile all over her face.

“I was just wondering where this is going to fit on your resumee?” Angela said softly. “Does getting kidnapped by vigilantes and turned into a mindless drone fit with your lofty career ambitions?” Cecil scowled and finally went inside her hut leaving Angela to listen to the rhythmic clapping of one of the guys going at it with Hannah.

The second challenge came the next day. Five women clad head to toe in latex led the contestants to a clearing where four large perspex containers stood about two feet high and five feet square. Two of the containers were filled with some kind of transparent jelly substance – lube the producers realised one by one. The game was simple. Split into two teams, it was a straight race to move all the lubricant from one of the containers to one of the empty ones – the catch being that none of them could use any tools except for their own naked bodies. Whichever team lost would lose one of their members to the throne, which had been set up ominously in the centre of the clearing.

Angela was paired with Chris and Hannah and as they were getting ready to begin, she could see Celia looking around at the treeline surrounding the clearing. She's looking for the cameras, Angela realised. After everything they had been through, the stupid bitch was concerned how the humiliating experience they were about to undertake would reflect on her. Angela felt a sudden desperation to win the game so she could see Celia's downfall...so everyone could see her degradation right there, right now...

Alas, it wasn't to be... The usually self-centred career climbers of Martin and Celia may be a lot of things but they were also resourceful. After a short discussion, Celia adopted a boat-like sitting position and Martin began to frantically scoop handfuls of lube into her lap. Once she was holding a good amount, Martin grabbed her underneath her knees and armpits with his strong lean arms, and hoisted both her and her quarry to the empty container. Angela glared disapprovingly at her teammates. There was no chance the weedy Chris could do the same for her and Hannah had already sprawled in the tub of lube, furiously fisting herself and moaning loudly. With a feeling of futility, they got to work trying to grab armfuls of the goo and carry it to the target. Within minutes, all five of them were gloopy slippery messes dripping with the jelly. It was a horrible mismatch and Martin and Celia ran out resounding victors in about fifteen minutes – about the same time it took Hannah to have six orgasms, who was then carried awkwardly by four latex clad amazons to the throne despite still having a full hand thrust into her own sex.

The transformation was as quick as it had been for Jason. Hannah may have already been a woman, but it was no less dramatic. The tubes fixed to her glistening skin even as she continued to masturbate, and filled her with the chemicals while some kind of mask fitted itself around her face. The other four producers and all the cameras watched in silence as she was mechanically crafted into something unrecognisable.

Hannah was breathing hard as she leant back on the bed. She didn't know how long she had been there anymore. She didn't care. She just knew she had been waiting too long for the next man. The last one had left her unquenched. They always did. It was because of her new body. She knew that much. Her new tits...her massive round new ass...even her fat new lips. They were why the men didn't last long now. It didn't matter matter if she put them in her mouth, let them shoot it up her butt or rode them like a good old rodeo, they could only hold it in a few minutes. Good thing there seemed to be an endless supply of them. Finally, there was a knock at the door and a huge man entered. She could already see his erection throbbing inside his jeans – ready to please her. Ready to try. She parted her silk-stockinged legs invitingly so the man could see up her crotchless panties as he approached, and opened her mouth – ready to feast...

Whatever Happened to Jonas? Part 3 (Bad Day at the Office)

 

Jonas tried half-heartedly to hold his trench coat closed as he reached for his ringing phone. The evening breeze seemed determined to begin his evening striptease before he had even learned his assignment and with summer now well on the way, there were plenty of people passing by to expend their disapproval and lust in equal measures. With it being a Friday, Jonas was on call the same way a surgeon or detective might be. It was inevitable the agency would get a call from a gaggle of horny women and when they did, it would be relayed to him. Hence, he was dressed in anticipation – his coat hiding the black lingerie set that held his hormone bloated body.

“We got one, Honey!” A sultry woman addressed him as he answered the call. “They are requesting your speciality.” Jonas grunted a response. He was earning more money than he had ever before – sometimes hitting twenty jobs a week now that his niche had reached peak popularity, and yet every new assignment felt like a stiff kick in his shrunken balls. “You're going to have your hands full,” the woman from the agency explained. “It sounded like a big party and they seemed like they were more than a few beverages in. The good thing is it helped us sell them quite a few extras.”

“Extras?” Jonas gulped. His voice was soft, another side-effect of the treatments the agency were pushing him to use. The wind was getting up again and his now grown-out hair was blowing in his face so he switched the phone his other hand and pressed a stiletto into the gate he had been leaning on. “What extras?”

“Toys mostly.” The woman replied. “A courier is taking them to the venue for you. Most of the usual stuff. A couple of strap-ons – sounds like they want the bride and maid-of-honor to Eiffel Tower you. Seems the Honeymoon will be in Paris. Also, apparently one of the bridesmaids is a real exhibitionist. She wants you to screw her.” Jonas's heart leapt into his throat. “So, we have included a silicone sheath for you. Our physio advised that you are unlikely to be able to maintain an erection with the treatments you are on, so this will be your replacement. You will attach it over your panties and use it just like the real thing – except of course there will no feeling, for you of anyway.” Jonas was silent on the end of the line. “There is one more thing...”

“What?” Jonas said coldly as he felt his last shreds of dignity ebb away.

“They ordered a big finish.” The woman said coolly. “Some of the women wanted one of our other products instead. One of the male ones... He's going to show up a couple of hours after you. Only, well, the girls ask that you stay around for the rest of the party as one of the guests. They were very excited about this part. Sounds like they have some party games in mind – blindfolding the guy and making him guess whose mouth he is in, things like that. Sounds like you are going to have a lot of fun tonight!”