A Pink n Prissy Pact Part 4

 

The buttplug was cold. Brent regretted not warming it up as soon as it popped in between his cheeks. But warm it how? He wasn't going to put it in his mouth... Besides the temperature was the least of the indignity the device offered. He was so full he felt like he might burst open from the inside. It was too late now anyway and if he didn't hurry, it was going to be buzzing around inside him, driving him giddy with pain, pleasure and humiliation. The corset was another poor choice. The Pink n Prissy Collective had sent him home with a suitcase of degrading costumes but choosing the one that actively squeezed his middle around the throbbing toy was a mistake. It pressed his caged cock tight to him too, and unlike the plug he hadn't been allowed to remove it for temporary relief so his once manhood felt like it was being relentlessly crushed.

He had to hurry. The girls would be expecting him and waiting with thumbs over phone screens ready to punish him if he was late. He had chosen the glittering corset and bikini bottoms with the fur lining because it was all one piece but pulling on the gloves and stockings and then attaching them to the garter belt had taken time – not to mention bending over to strap on the towering platform heels had been excruciating as his ass hugged its invader ever more tightly. Every moment made him want to crawl up inside himself and never come out, and today was just the first day of his new life. At last, he was satisfied that his appearance was appropriately pathetic that the Pink n Prissy Collective wouldn't punish him by activating his devices remotely using Emi's app, and he lined up his phone with the giant wall mirror in the living room.

“Once a boy...” his voice quivered as the recording started, “...now a Miss.” He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. “Once of gloom...but now of bliss.” He wanted to stop but knew he had no choice. “Once free will...but now a sissy. Now and forever...Pink n Prissy.” He swallowed hard and pressed send.

“It's here! It's here!” Cassie hollered holding her phone aloft. “Brent's first remote pledge is here!” She held her screen in front of her and the rest of the girls joined her in the kitchen of the Pink n Prissy house to watch the recording.

“No fair!” Charlotte exclaimed. “He's at home. Give him a zap and tell him to do the next one in public. Tell him to go to the mall. I want onlookers!”

“Hey, Terri. Can I ask you something?” Grace asked timidly pulling the Collective's tech geek aside as the rest of the girls continued to yell demands to further Brent's humiliation. “When you looked up Emi that time on your tablet. You know the community on OnlyFemmes... There were so many accounts there...”

“There were!” It was Josie, the group's leader who answered. “There are many of us out there who share our particular interest. Some of them go way further than we do... Scarily so... But, you know, each of us has our own method...our own little trick for getting boys like Brent into panties. And, guess what Grace? So will you!” Grace looked up to see that the rest of the Pink n Prissy Collective were now crowded around her. “We promise on all things pink and prissy that you will get your mojo back. We will help you find your little trick! If it's the last thing we do...”

A Pink n Prissy Pact Part 3

 

Emi was good to her word and within a week she had dropped off Brent at the Pink n Prissy Collective house wrapped in a big bow. Literally. Collecting him at the front door from a muscle-bound courier in a tuxedo, the girls were almost surprised not to have to sign for their gift-wrapped package. Once inside, Brett stood in the entrance hall in abject terror wearing a dress not dissimilar in shape to the one they had seen on Matty the week before at Emi's except this one was shimmering satin and had matching mittens that encased Brett's hands. His legs were encased in delicate white silk stockings that fed into high-heeled ballet pumps and his face was painted with exaggerated doll like makeup beneath a long blonde wig that smelled more than a little of resin. Emi had certainly not pulled any punches in feminising the boy.

“That's not the only bow!” Cassie exclaimed gleefully as she lifted the petrified victim's dress to reveal a delicate satin ribbon tied around a mercilessly small cage clasping Brent's genitals. “Hey, look! A gift tag!” She pulled a note that had been attached loosely to the ribbon and turned it over in her hands. “Lot's of Love – Emi x” She read aloud for the other members of the Pink n Prissy Collective. “P.S. He's fitted with all my usual toys but no remote. Just scan the QR to get the app and go wild. Thought you might want to release this one into the wild!”

“Emi has her own app!?” Josie, the Collective's leader whistled. “Terri, why don't we have an app?” She turned to the group's resident tech genius.

“This is going to be the best revenge ever!” Charlotte strode forward, grabbed Brent's hand and began pulling him into the house while Cassie was busy installing Emi's app on her phone. “Hey, Grace, help me welcome our guest.” She nodded to the timid girl swamped in a massive black hoodie. “We have the mother of all pledges to prepare for!” She led the sissyfied boy into the living area and pushed him to his knees. Pulling a brush from under a sofa cushion, she began working it though his hair.

“So, Brett...I bet you thought you had seen the last of us!” Cassie entered the room, her head in her phone. “You thought your sister would protect you forever? Well, last time we saw Kirsten she was wrapped in latex and squealing like a prize pig against the business end of a vibrator!” She looked up from her screen and locked eyes with their gift, whose lip was quivering and looked close to tears. “Now, let's give this thing a test drive, shall we?” She opened a new window on her phone and slowly dragged a finger up the screen. Brett's pink lips dropped open and his eyes closed. A crackle sounded from beneath his dress and a low cry escaped his lips.

“Once a boy...” It was an hour later and Brent was beginning his pledge. Sixty minutes of torture at the hands of five girls armed with Emi's app had put a wrecking ball through any resistance he had still had and he was willing to say or do anything to end it or just even earn a respite. “Now a miss...”  

A Pink n Prissy Pact Part 2

 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Emi announced proudly, waving her arms theatrically to a lavish apartment that was not remotely humble. The entire Pink n Prissy Collective including Grace, who was still swamped by another oversized hoodie, were squeezed into a single leather sofa and they gazed around in wonder at the vaulted ceilings, life-sized marble statues and moulded walls embossed with unashamed bondage straps and fixings. “It is always a pleasure to welcome fellow artisans of the craft.” She smiled broadly but the girls were no longer looking her way. Instead, their attention had been captured by a meek feminine creature in a flowing black lace dress perched nervously on the corner of a plush seat.

“As you can see, sometimes I bring my work home with me,” Emi chuckled softly. “I do manage almost all of my sissies remotely, but it is good to bring them in from time to time for...recalibration...” She crossed the room and stroked the long brown hair of the frightened figure gently with a latex gloved hand. “This one is Matty. He signed up for my services via OnlyFemmes about a month ago. A volunteer, believe it or not. Lord knows I prefer a bounty, but a shark's gotta eat...and I am a man-eater.” She flashed her teeth. “Grace!” She switched her attention suddenly and the timid girl in the hoodie almost jumped out of her skin. “How are you enjoying Kirsten? You must be a pro at taming her by now? Say, you wanna give dear Matty here a test drive?” Emi strode over to an impossibly large television on six-inch heeled boots and swooped up one of the remotes. The figure that had been identified as Matty visibly wilted at the site of it and he pulled back in his seat, holding his arms behind him and bringing his knees together in a clear posture of retreat. “Give it a go!” Emi tossed the remote into Grace's lap.

“Okay...” Grace stammered looking down at the device. It had just two buttons – one with a tiny but clear image of a cock-cage, the other with a picture of what seemed to be a bejewelled buttplug. Not wanting to upset the terrifying mistress, Grace softly pushed the first button. On cue, Matty gave a high-pitched squeal and lurched in his seat, dragging his towering heels across the wooden floor. Grace stopped immediately and the sissy sat there panting, his stockinged legs pushed firmly together. The second button had a noticeably similar but different effect. Grace pressed this one longer, keen to endear herself to Emi, and Matty's initial jolt of shock appeared to quickly subside into something else. His painted face became foggy and sweat appeared on his brow. Realising she was enjoying her power over the boy, Grace held her thumb down and Matty's short breaths started to hitch irregularly. The rest of the Collective watched on in delight and she slowly but surely brought the sissified boy to orgasm albeit one smothered by his cage. A surreal silence filled the room.

“So, you will get Kirsten's brother for us – Brent?! Josie finally asked.

“Not like this,” Emi shook her head. “I am going out of town next week for some reality TV thing. I am sure you will hear all about that very soon... But don't worry, I will deliver Brent to you with all the toys you need to control him. As my fellow artisans of our noble craft, I trust you to enact your own brand of justice.” She winked and continued to stroke Matty's hair as he softly groaned.

A Pink n Prissy Pact Part 1

 This is a new 4 part story to build on my Pink n Prissy Collective. The rest of this series is on my index page

“I think this one is nearly ready for the pledge!” Charlotte announced folding her arms. The subject of her proclamation was Hunter, who hours earlier had been stuffed into a latex French maid costume and shoved in a closet in the shared area of the Pink n Prissy House. The boy had just been delivering pizza ads and the Collective's tech wizard, Terri had spotted him through the doorbell camera. Never ones to pass up a chance to feminise an unsuspecting boy, the group of girls had grabbed him and pulled him inside. Josie, the Pink n Prissy Collective's leader, as well as their muscle, had held him down while her comrades frantically tore Hunter's clothing away before waxing and painting him into an overwhelmed glossy mess. Hours later, he was their latest trophy, stewing in his new panties, waiting to be inducted into the Pink n Prissy hall of fame.

“Do you think he is broken enough, yet?” Cassie called over. She was the group's innocent faced assassin. As sweet as she looked she had an arsenal of toys for breaking down boys and was also a master, or should we say mistress, manipulator. “I know he's been in there hours, and that rubber dress does look super uncomfortable, but I have ways to make him squeal!” She stared the boy in the face and licked her lips like a kitten.

“No, Cassie. I don't think we need your buttplug right now...” Charlotte shook her head and then grinned broadly at her blushing friend. “Besides, this isn't just Hunter's pledge. This is for Grace too.” She nodded to the fifth member of the Pink n Prissy Collective, who was bundled up in a massive oversized hoodie and looking almost as vulnerable as the boy in the closet. “This is the first one since we got Grace back from that bitch, Kirsten. This is her first steps to recovery!”

“You know what doesn't seem fair?” Cassie sighed. “Emi took care of Kirsten for us – she is now some kind of OnlyFemmes plaything...and even Stephanie is whoring it up every weekend in biker bars. But that dweeb, Brent, Kirsten's brother is the one that started this whole thing...the reason Kirsten did what she did to Grace, and he has got away with it pretty much scott-free. We don't even know where is he? He got away with it and there's nothing we can do...”

“Maybe there is...” Terri smiled, pulling out her tab. She opened an app and angled the screen so that Grace could see it was OnlyFemmes. “This is a community page. It is where we communicate with like minded individuals.” Grace could see she was scrolling through a list of usernames in alphabetical order – Aiko<3, Alice@Law, Anna_ownsJ&R, Artist(Inactive), AzaleaBN, Bunnimacher(Inactive), CassiePnP, CharlottePnP, CLAIREbrody, drlilith... Finally she reached EmiTheShark and opened a DM. “If anyone can find Brent, it is Emi. I would just hate to be in his heels when she does... Now we have pledge to be getting on with...”

“Come on, you!” Commanded Charlotte leading Hunter from the closet by his chin and giving him a firm swat across his latex covered butt with her free hand. She pushed the broken boy to his knees as the other girls crowded around, camera-phones in hand. “Repeat after me, 'Once a boy...'”

The Bare Minimum

 19/25

Jeanie ached with every minute of the 14-hour shift she had and was still enduring. As with anywhere else, the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes had faced a challenging last few years and budget cuts and redundancies had resulted in longer hours and fewer benefits for the witches that remained. Jeanie found herself cursing her ever-increasing quota and her tyrannical line manager far more often that the unsuspecting public whose wishes she was supposed to be twisting into unintended disasters.

Everyone thought the perfect wish came from precision – that long wordy descriptive requests were the key to avoiding the pitfalls that came with leaving your desires at the mercy of a mischievous witch. They were wrong. The key was in fact simplicity. A clear succinct wish was not easy to manipulate – something Jeanie found out the hard way often as scores of ‘customers’ simply wished for her to suck their dick. She was not paid for these wishes – unless you counted a mouthful of unwanted cum, which she didn’t.

It was on a night like this that she ran into Archie. The young man also looked exhausted having pulled a long night shift at the docks lugging barrels of fish into a walk-in freezer. When Jeanie met him he was frustrated and stank like the bottom of a boat.

“So, how does this work again?” He folded his arms, clearly unimpressed by the pixie-like woman offering him whatever his heart desired.

“Okay, so what you have to do is rub my clit three times and…” She grinned as his mouth dropped open. “No, fuckwit, you just tell me what you want, I wave my wand, your wish, my command, yadda-yadda-yadda…happy days.”

“Hmmm…” He nodded sceptically, but then his face softened into a thoughtful expression. “Alright…I wish I could leave all this behind,” he waved his arms at the docks and Jeanie felt a tickle of excitement in her loins. “I want a life of leisure…of luxury…and I don’t want to work long hours for it…just the bare minimum.” The witch before him grinned broadly and everything disappeared.

Archie was lying in the warm afternoon sun – relaxation flooding his body. He adjusted his position and something damp grazed across his shoulder. It was his hair, his long blonde hair. Glancing down, he quickly realised a number of other things. He saw a pair of enormous breasts squeezed into a tiny bikini top, and below that a smooth hourglass-like tummy splayed out into a pair of thick womanly hips. The bikini bottoms clinging to them traced inwards to where his cock had once been. He screamed silently.

“Hey, gorgeous!” A male voice alerted Archie to the presence of a figure to his right and he lowered his sunglasses instinctively. A man with salt and pepper hair stood wearing a speedo. “I keep you in this life of leisure and luxury…” he sauntered over and pushed the long lock of blonde hair back behind Archie’s slender shoulder. With his other hand he thumbed the waistband of his speedo down to reveal a throbbing erection. Archie shuddered as the man’s first hand moved to the back of his head. “I give you all of this…how about you give me the bare minimum in return…

Whatever Happened to Raphael? (Shipshape)

 This is a continuation of my LoanRanger series, which is available on my index page. This particular caption is a flashback of Shipshape, which you can read here

The car idled in the carpark behind the hotel, its seclusion shielding the two figures inside from the paparazzi flashes battering the street st the front, where the promotional gala for LoanRanger glittered with neon signs.

Raphael shifted in his seat, the latex dress squeaking as it clung obscenely to every surgically sculpted curve. The neckline plunged low, displaying the implants Alice had insisted upon. His legs, shaved smooth and glossed with lotion, gleamed. The investor, seated opposite him, watched with an expression that hovered between amusement and appraisal. To Raphael, it was like being on the yacht all over again.

“You wear it well,” the investor said at last. His voice was low, indulgent, the tone of a man already in possession.

Raphael forced a smile, lashes fluttering as Alice had taught him. “I wear what I’m told.” Raphael’s heart thumped. He hated it. The dress, the body, the humiliating role of ornament. But he had learned one thing in these months of forced femininity: survival depended on performance. So he leaned forward, breasts pressing against the latex, voice pitched sweet and high. “I like…being valuable,” he whispered.

The investor’s smile widened. “Good answer.” He leaned closer, conspiratorial now. “Tell me, Raphael. Do you want to stay valuable? Or do you want to spend the rest of your life as LoanRangee’s plaything—paraded, mocked, disposable?”

Raphael’s nails dug into the seat. He thought of Alice smirking as she’d unveiled him on the yacht, a cold hand guiding his waist like property. He thought of his body—no longer his. “I want…more,” he admitted.

The investor reached into his briefcase and produced a slim folder. He slid it across the seat. “Then give me what I need, and I’ll give you what you want. A future. Freedom from Alice's leash. Protection.”

Raphael hesitated before opening the folder. Inside were photographs: offshore accounts, internal memos, emails with Alice’s signature, ledgers showing the hidden trail of transformations. Evidence. Enough to sink LoanRanger and everyone steering it. “You already have this,” Raphael whispered.

“Pieces,” the investor corrected. “What I need is the whole picture. . The contracts. The clauses. You have access. And you have motivation. Bring them to me, and your new body will be an asset, not a punishment.”

Raphael’s throat tightened. He could almost see it: no more humiliating orders, no more being paraded as a joke. Instead, a penthouse, a wardrobe of his choosing, adoration without ridicule. His new body—his curse—turned into currency. He closed the folder, his manicured hands trembling. He looked at the investor, then at his reflection in rearview mirror: blonde hair, painted lips, breasts gleaming under latex. Not a man. Not even himself. Slowly, he nodded. “I’ll get you what you want.”

The investor raised his glass in a toast. “Good girl.”

The Lodger Part 7

 

Brittany stood in her room acutely aware that something wasn't quite right. The room itself with its shadows and creams wasn't the problem – she had even tailored her outfit to match it specially for Ms. Paulsen's return. Looking spectacular as always, Brittany had paired a dark skater dress with silky cream pantyhose, cutting no corners when it came to her makeup – her skin glowed and her hair glimmered. And yet something was very wrong...

Caleb was the same as always. Giddily thinking he was a girl in his pink paradise of a bedroom. Last Brittany had seen, he had been rolling around like an excited puppy on the bubblegum coloured shag rug – his perfect bleach blonde curls and cotton-candy tutu spread around him in a picture of feminine bliss. So why did Brittany feel so,,,off?

The tea clearly hadn't worked on Caleb. She had served him up an extra strong pot as soon as Ms. Paulsen had left – even giving him the bags that she was supposed to drink – and though he had fallen asleep with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face, when he awoke wearing the most masculine thing Brittany could find in the house – a bland unisex pair of brown button up pyjamas – he had just giggled at the sight of his new tits poking out from the top fastening and was back looking like a Barbie doll in 10 minutes.

Brittany had continued to give Caleb her serving of the Camomile tea along with his own. If nothing else, it kept that idiot asleep most of the time and out of her hair. She didn't bother trying the stunt with the pyjamas again and with every enforced nap, he seemed to wake as even more of a simpering airhead that the time before. One afternoon, Brittany caught him sitting in front of the dresser that had once been hers, giggling at himself mindlessly in the mirror and bouncing his boobs.

Brittany was not sure what was wrong, but she no longer looked at Caleb's boobs with the same envy she had a few days ago. Caleb was a boy – he shouldn't have breasts and the fact Ms. Paulsen had given them him was wrong. She just wasn't sure why. The pink room didn't even strike her fancy any more. Once it had held a power over her she couldn't explain, and now? It was just a room. It was stupid pink Caleb's stupid pink room.

Ms. Paulsen would be home later today along with her freshly graduated daughter, Sophie. I sure hope they know what's up with me, Brittany thought as she curtseyed half-heartedly in her skater dress for the mirror. She frowned as it hung loosely over her flat chest. Caleb wasn't a girl...and maybe she wasn't too... She just hoped Ms. Paulsen would know what to do...