'O' Sissy, My Sissy!

“Studies have shown that the female orgasm can be up to ten times more intense than its male equivalent,” Jane Silver let her words wash over the auditorium full of people before her. “Doesn't seem very fair, does it?” There were murmurs, giggles and even a few cheers from her audience of two hundred couples that had been specially invited to her presentation. “That's why here at MyPleasure, we have developed a drug that stimulates the male brain during ejaculation to emit theta waves equivalent to its female counterpart, simulating the female orgasmic experience.” She paused. “That's science talk for 'it will make you cum your brains out' like you can only dream about.”

There were whoops from the crowd and couples looked at each other in wonder with winks and wet lips. There was a palpable excitement in the room now, especially from the men. “Now,” Jane continued, “what do us girls get out of this deal?” She smiled out a few good natured heckles and stepped closer to the edge of the stage. “As you know, you were invited here today for our product launch after filling out one of our sexual fantasy questionnaires online. These were answered independently from your partners so not to bias the responses and I can tell you now, gentlemen, that every lady in this room answered one certain question in a very specific way.” She paused again to allow the suspense to build. “When asked, 'on a scale of one to ten, how much would you like to feminise your partner?', they responded...10!”

The atmosphere in the crowd changed in an instant. The room was suddenly filled with looks of shock and suspicious glances. “Well, ladies, we know that just one experience of our product will be enough to get you whatever you want. After all, our new drug is only on sale to women, and we know for a fact that every man in this room will do whatever it takes for another taste of sweet ecstasy.” The heckling was no longer light hearted and Jane had to adjust her mic to be heard above the male anger and mockery. “Guys, you are probably thinking you are better off avoiding our product like the plague. It can't be worth a new life as a sissy, right? Well, I hope you enjoyed your complimentary champagne as you entered.” The room fell silent apart from a single glass falling from someone's hand and smashing on the floor.

“Perhaps you'd like to hear a testimonial? Benji, come here, darling!” The curtains at the back of the stage parted and a timid blonde in a frilly wedding dress stepped through. “Before becoming my sissy wife, Benji was my lab assistant and one of the first men to try our new product. So addicted to the female thrill is dear Benji, that she agreed to marry me.” There was a growing rumble of excitement from the women in the room as their partners sat in silence next to them. Benji's madeup face was a picture of shame and acceptance as he knew what was going to happen next. “Benji is my sissy now,” Jane grinned, “just as your boyfriends and husbands will become yours – pathetic little orgasm addicts to do with as you please. Of course, it's up to you how you allow them to climax. I like to use a small but extremely powerful buttplug.” She took a keyfob from her pocket and a look of fear washed over Benji. “You will all find one in your welcome packs.”

 

My Accessory

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Home of the Governess

 Sorry for the lack of a caption last week. I have been horrendously busy with work.

Detective Finn Collier ducked under the police tape and strode into the crime scene. If seeing ten police cruisers parked outside the old mansion on the hill had seemed surreal, things were just about to go to whole new level of weird. He spotted his partner, Detective Pam Larsson, talking to a crime scene photographer and walked over. “What do we have here, Pam?” he demanded. “Kidnapping? False imprisonment?”

“Looks like it,” Detective Larsson nodded, “Fifteen vics so far. All like this...or worse.” She glanced at the two figures standing in the corridor, both in short maids' uniforms and heels, their arms bound behind their backs and ball gags stuffed deep between painted lips. “Poor guys...”

“Guys?!” Finn's eyes went wide. “You mean...”

“Men?” Pam nodded, “yes, all of them. Some have been here quite some by the looks of things. These two are some of the newer additions by all accounts. Their transformation seems to have been mostly cosmetic. Hence the bonds, I guess. Some of the guys further into the house are nowhere near as lucky. They are much further gone. Psychological conditioning, we think. Probably drug induced too.”

“Good Lord...” Detective Collier gasped. He eyed the desperate look of the blonde maid before him and immediately wished he hadn't. He tried to avert his gaze but only succeeded at staring at a pair of glossy legs in fishnets perched on open toed heels instead. He was having a hard time thinking of these poor men as lucky. “Who would do something like this?”

“We're pretty sure it's a woman,” Pam said consulting her notepad, “judging by the strapons we found in the sex dungeon. Oh right, that's a thing too. There are also hypnosis tapes we found with a woman's voice on them. Thirties or forties by the sound of her voice. Some of the officers are calling her the Governess. There's a large dressing room full of outfits like these and...others. We're trying to track down who bought them, but nothing so far.”

“Okay,” Finn scratched his head. “How about in the meantime, we get these poor guys out of them?”

“Oh, they are much too far gone for that. Some of these men have undergone serious mental conditioning. It's going to take some of them months, maybe years, of therapy to reconnect them with who they really are. Not that we even know who they are yet. Even these two,” Pam pointed at their prissy welcoming committee, “seem to be deep into hormone cycles. They need to be weaned off and will still have curves for a very long time. In the short-term, our focus needs to be on finding the Governess. Because someone who does something like this has an obsession. They aren't just going to stop because we found some of their maids...”  

ChickStarter

 

It began as any other quiet Friday morning. At least until the media trucks pulled up outside and reporters started hammering on our door. We assembled in the hall at the bottom of the stairs as we always seem to do in a crisis, that is except for my sister who hovered timidly on the upstairs landing above us. My Mom has always had a bit of a sixth sense for our guilt and lasered in on her immediately while my Dad and I looked on open-mouthed.

“Sylvie, what is going on?!” she yelled. “Why is every news crew in the county seemingly intent on breaking into our house?”

“It was just supposed to be a joke...” My sister's face was a mask of fear. She was a year older than me but I had never seen her look like such a scared little kid. “It just got out of hand, that's all...” She gulped as my parents folded their arms in unison. “I started a GoFundMe...for Gabe,” she looked at me, “I said he wanted to live as a girl and needed money for clothes and makeup. I was just being silly. I set a target of a hundred bucks but I didn't actually expect anyone to donate. Except they did... It went viral and people gave almost fifteen grand. People gave so much the local news started emailing me. They wanted to do a piece on Gabe...”

“What?!” My Mom turned crimson and looked like she was about to explode. “Are you insane?!” Another loud knock on the door cut her rant short. “Well, young lady, it looks like you going to have to go out their and explain. And then you are going to spend the rest of the day reimbursing people.” Their eyes locked and something unspoken seemed to pass between them. I practically heard a penny drop as my Mom realised Sylvie hadn't bought her new BMW with the tips from her overtime shifts after all. “Right...” her eyes darted around the room as she frantically tried to think of what to do. “Okay, I'll deal with you later,” she snapped at my sister. “Right now, just find something for your brother to wear while we figure out what to do about this mess you've created!”

So that's how I ended up standing outside my own house dressed as a girl while an army of photographers snapped pictures of me and reporters tried to shove microphones in my face. I'm pretty skinny so I fit easily into the polka dot dress Sylvie picked out for me and the wig she had from a stint in the school drama club plus a bit of makeup completed my makeover. I tried to keep my eyes glued to the ground that I wanted to swallow me up and the one glance up I did take was met with the gleeful smirk of my sister. Thankfully, my Mom fielded most of the reporters' questions. I suppose she was worried I would expose the scam. After about fifteen minutes of my humiliation, a well-dressed woman from a local network came over.

“I understand your GoFundMe raised nearly fifteen thousand dollars,” she smiled, ”my channel would be willing to match that if we can have exclusive access to your son's...errr...daughter's journey.”

Now I didn't exactly see dollar signs in my Mom's eyes, but I saw enough...enough to know that this morning wouldn't be the end of my nightmare, not by a long shot...

Smoking Hot

Kaitlyn swatted with irritation at the buzzing intercom on her desk as if it were some intruding insect. It had been a long day for the hypnotherapist and now her 5 o'clock was late. Not that she was in any rush to spend another hour with that insufferable man and his futile attempt to quit smoking. The moron didn't seem to understand that she wasn't some kind of magician. To make progress you actually had to make a commitment towards improvement – not just lie there lazily on her couch, farting into the expensive red leather and ignoring her. The intercom buzzed again furiously.

“For God's sake, what?!” Kaitlyn yelled down the line at her secretary, who no doubt heard her from the adjoining office through the wall anyway. “Sorry...what it is Cathy?”

“It's your 5 o'clock, Doctor – Mr. Kent, the smoker,” her voice sounded feeble and tinny through the speaker, “he's cancelled his session. He says the therapy isn't working. He called it a waste of time.” Cathy paused knowing her boss would need a moment to seethe before she piled on the bad news. “That's not all, Doctor. His son is here, at the front desk I mean. It seems Mr. Kent wants his money back and he sent the boy to collect it.”

“Right...” Kaitlyn sighed angrily. As nice as it was not to have to spend any more time with the flatulent Mr. Kent, she couldn't believe the nerve of the man demanding a refund on an entire course of therapy. She smiled thinly as an idea started to form. “Oh Cathy,” she said pushing down the button on the intercom, “send him through won't you? I'm sure we can work something out...”

An hour passed and Cathy was getting a little impatient. It was past six and she wanted to go home but her boss was still in with Mr. Kent's son. What was she doing? He wasn't even a patient. She knocked on the door gently and pushed into the doctor's office expecting to see her with the boy in his late teens she had led through earlier. What she got instead almost made her fall down in shock.

“Ah Cathy,” Kaitlyn waved her in, “we were just finishing up.” The doctor gestured to what appeared to be a young woman in a short dress and heels sprawled on the leather couch. “I told Billy here that we couldn't refund his dad's payment but since the last session was already paid for we could use it to give young Billy some help understanding girls. Some hypnosis and a little help from my prop cupboard and I would say he is more than in touch with his feminine side. It's just a shame the hour is up so quickly.”

“Huh?” Cathy's eyes were popping out of her head at the sight of the boy with the blank stare piercing through layers of makeup. “You're sending him home like that?”

“Oh, don't worry,” Kaitlyn grinned, “he will snap out of it before he gets home. It's best he keeps the outfit anyway since I have programmed his femme alter-ego to re-emerge every time he sees his dad smoking a cigarette.”  

 

RansomWear

 Sorry for the late caption this week. I had a job interview on Tuesday morning so I was busy on Monday. 

By the way, thank you for all the lovely comments on my captions, I am not intentionally ignoring them but I am having problems leaving replies as I get logged out whenever I try. Please know I read and appreciate all of them.

Good afternoon, you're through to UltraReal Bodysuits Customer Care, my name is Felicity. How can I help you today?

You have to help me! Please help me! This is a nightmare!

Whoa!! Slow down there tiger. Where's the fire?

My suit, the one I have on loan from you, it's been hacked!!

Wait! What do you mean it's been hacked? Do you have it on right now?

Yes, and it won't come off.

What do mean it won't come off?

It won't come off. When I try to activate the keypad on the hip, the LED just flashes red and then nothing happens.

Okay, that's strange. All our bodysuits are state-of-the-art, expertly handcrafted to give the most authentic female experience to any wearer. Wait a minute...didn't you say you thought it had been hacked?!

I got an email.

An email?!

Some anonymous sender, but they knew everything about me. Said they had hacked my suit with something called a ransomware virus.

Oh, right. Those...

Yes, those...

Well, sir, I am pleased to tell you it is your lucky day. Here at UltraReal Bodysuits we put the customer first always and we are fully insured for occassions such as this. If you pay this err...ransom, we will gladly refund you once you are out safe and sound. How great is that?

They don't want money...

What?!

The hacker...he isn't asking for money. He...errr...wants something else. He wants me. He wants me to..oh god I cant...

Sir?

...but I can't stay like this. This was supposed to be a bit of fun...

Sir, please calm down.

...and now I'm stuck like this...unless...unless...but it's vile...degrading...to be used like that...

Sir, please?!

...I'm going to do it. I have to. I can't stay like this... Goodbye.

Sir?...Sir?...Please come back. We can help you negotiate. Sir? We can replace any money.

…

But....that....that is going to stay with you forever...

After the Sleepover

 If I were to do a few Flashback Fridays, which captions would you like them for? Can be recent ones or ancient...

“We're never gonna talk about this ever again, right?” James didn't even dare look at his friend as they sauntered away from the girls' summer cabin. The morning sun was just rising above the trees and casting unwanted daylight on the two feminised boys. Finally, in anticipation of a response, he looked over at Warren and instantly regretted it – his friend's poofy sleeved dress, knee length socks and pigtailed hair an exact replica of his own. “I mean, I won't mention it if you don't.”

“Whatever...” Warren grunted as they trudged away the house where their nightmares had become reality. Sleep deprived and humiliated, he had no interest in conversing with his partner in crime. Every word was like reliving the whole wretched experience. He just wanted to get home and get this crap off of him.

One thing they both agreed on was that it was a mistake to crash the girls' sleepover at Jane's dad's fishing cabin. Their curiosity had got the better of them as they imagined the sordid things a few teenaged girls might get up to alone in the dark and went along to do some spying. The problem was that it was not a 'few' girls at all. In fact, there were twelve and once the boys were discovered peeking in through the window, they were quickly overpowered and given a close up demonstration of what sordid things girls can get up to.

Being naked with a hot girl is exciting, but as the boys found out, being naked around twelve is terrifying – especially when said nudity is not mutual. After forcefully stripping James and Warren, the girls raided an old dressing up box from when Jane and her sister used to spend summers in the cabin with their parents and stuffed the boys into matching princess outfits. It would only get worse, as they boys lived out one of the longest nights of their young lives.

First up was Truth or Dare and it was always James and Warren's turn. The dares consisted of allowing the girls to put makeup on them and paint their nails and once they were sufficiently prissy they moved onto making the boys hold hands and even kiss. For Truth, they were made to adopt a character and answer humiliating questions in feminine voices and if they refused one of the girls would hike up their dress and pinch their balls, which were being squeezed by pairs of super-tight panties. Finally, as it approached five in the morning, the last of the girls went to bed and James and Warren were able to slip out into the dawn.

“So, we're agreed?” James persisted, eager to forget that just hours ago he had kissed his best friend on the lips. “Say, do you have money for the bus?”

“The bus?” Warren's glossed bottom lip dropped open as he imagined being on a crowded bus dressed as they were.

“Yeah, did you forget?” James said. “We're like ten miles from home. Either we get the bus or we walk all the way through town like this.” Both boys fell silent as they realised that even if they never spoke about this again, there would be plenty of other people to do it for them.