Hood Ornament [COMMISSION]

 This was DeviantArt commission

“Wasn't there some guy who tried this already?” Devon squirmed in place. He was trying to rest himself on the truck in a way that supported him without burning his bare skin on the sun-beaten chrome. “OnlyFemmes I mean – didn't he pose as his girlfriend or sister or something, and she ended up putting some kind of sissy bounty on him?”

“Don't give me ideas,” Haley, his long-suffering girlfriend, spat, pointing the camera at him, “I still need to pay off that lemon,” she nodded at the flame-streaked vintage truck Devon had spent their entire savings on, “the last thing I need is to pay off some crazy bitch with whips and chains for punishing my idiot boyfriend – as tempting as it is...”

The sun continued to blaze and Devon brushed the bangs of his wig aside to wipe sweat from his brow before it could streak his makeup. The last thing he needed was another hour in front of Haley's mirror while she repainted his face.

“Hey!” He called, suddenly realising something, “shouldn't I be wearing sunscreen? Just seems like after all that plucking and waxing you did, my skins gotta be like super sensitive.”

“Look,” Haley rolled her eyes, “if we're going to be rubbing anything into your skin, it is 100% being filmed for content. Now, pull that swimsuit up a bit higher up your ass – really show off the goods! That's it – now lift up your heels as if you were in stilettos and push out your butt. Nice!” She snapped a dozen pictures in quick succession. “Our subscribers are going to love that!”

“Our subscribers!?” Devon grimaced. Haley's swimsuit was much too small and was wedged uncomfortably between his cheeks. “I don't see you here, half naked and humiliating yourself for...content...”

“That's because I didn't spend all our savings on a supposed vintage truck that doesn't even run. What was it you called it? An asset?” Haley shook her head with derision at the vehicle and her feminised boyfriend together. “Looks like I am photographing all of your assets today... The guy who sold you that thing must be able to spot a sucker a mile off...now there's an idea!” She put the camera down and grinned cruelly. “Stay there while I go and get my dildo. How is your gag reflex by the way?”

Devon groaned. He was starting to miss the idea of the car wash scene Haley had had planned. Frollicking in soapy water sounded like bliss compared to having her sextoy between his painted lips. He just worried where else it would go when Haley found out the money he had paid for the truck was just the down payment. 

Quiet Mercy [COMMISSION]

 A commission for DeviantArt and also one of my Mannequeen captions - the rest of which are available on my index page

The fall air was chilly in spite of the bright morning sunshine. Jamie shivered and scrunched his eyes as both lulled him from slumber. His head-ached and his body was heavy as he slowly became aware he was lying on a low wall. He couldn't recall why he would be sleeping in such an uncomfortable place – especially the night before his favorite day of the year. 

The Expo!! He was suddenly wide awake and tried to sit, but something heavy seemed to be stuck to his back. He attempted to turn to see what it was, but the objects turned with him. More alarmingly, another weight swung at his chest, causing him to look down and catch his breath at the sight of two trembling breasts. It didn't take much longer to realise the weight on his back was a huge set of Valkyrie wings. They were clearly part of a costume, but the breasts felt as real as could be. Panicked, he tried to scream, but his throat seemed completely frozen. Shaking with fear, he looked around him for a clue to what was going on. A small tape recorder sat on the wall next to him. With quivering hands, he pressed 'play'.

“Hello Jamie. I want to play a game. For the past five years you have used the G3 Expo as your personal playground of perversion. You have used and abused female convention goers and cosplayers – using the crowds to camouflage your wandering hands and camera lens. You have groped and shot upskirt photos of countless young women and then bragged about it to your online band of creeps. Well, not this year. You will notice that for the first time in the last five years, you too are in costume. 'Mercy' is the ultimate field medic and you too will need to apply some tender loving care if you want any other kind of mercy. I have fitted you with a state-of-the-art female bodysuit that has been programmed to bind with your skin permanently when the Expo closes at 7pm tonight. That is unless you manage to trigger the fail-safe. What is that you ask? Well, you don't because you may have noticed I have also disabled your ability to speak. That is simply to make sure you remain focussed on your task. You see, the most tender holes of your bodysuit have been specially designed to absorb ejaculate. In order to unlock your suit, you will need one load for every upskirt photograph you have ever posted on your blog. In case you've lost count, that's 246. Good luck, Jamie, you've got a lot of fucking to do. You are going to fit a lot of guys like a glove, or that bodysuit is going to fit you like a glove...forever!”

Jamie again tried to scream but once again no sound came out. It was at that moment he realised where he was. Across the plaza stood the convention center and already a long line was forming for entrance to the expo. He stood and began shuffling towards its in a pair of uncomfortable sandals. He stared at the dozens of Deadpools, Jokers and Lokis ahead of him and his skin prickled. His bodysuit prickled, he realised with dread. If it was this sensitive...that realistic in response to his fear, how was it going to feel when 246 men in costume took turns on him for an entire day? And how would he tell them if it got too much...?

Oblivious [COMMISSION]

 A commission for DeviantArt

Also, I am very sorry. Yesterday I said Sissy vs Sissy was on my index page and it wasn't. It is there now.

Jack leapt from his desk the second he was presented with the opportunity to get a closer look at the object of his fascination. The memo he had been holding remained clutched in his hands as he sidled up alongside Felix and began to walk with him through the office. From a distance he had been fascinated, but up close he was spellbound at the transformation of his co-worker. Once rugged and unshaven, Felix now had glossy shoulder-length brown hair and a carefully made-up face that subtly showcased his newly found femininity.

“Hey, Felix. How's it going?” Jack could barely contain his excitement. Felix looked back at him with bewilderment and clutched his hands defensively over a fitted cardigan that sat neatly over a grey skirt. He really has no idea, Jack marvelled to himself as Felix expertly tucked a stray hair behind a freshly pierced ear.

Just three weeks ago, their office had been the latest workplace to be attacked with a viral phishing campaign. The email claiming to contain details of their new parking assignments instead held malware that opened a video on the recipients screen. According to news reports, the video was loaded with powerful subliminal hypnotic suggestion that rendered the watcher helplessly addicted to a women's fashion brand. Known as the Vektor virus after the brand in question, it now held Felix in its manicured talons.

“Hey...Jack,” Felix shifted his leather handbag further up his shoulder and stared back quizzically. “Things are...normal. I am just filing this report.” He gestured to the folder he was holding. “Everything okay...” he looked Jack up and down with an odd expression on his cosmetic laden face, “...with you?”

“Oh, I'm good,” Jack smirked, “very good.” Seeing Felix like this was almost unbearable. He seemed completely clueless that his once unkempt masculine image had been re-crafted into feminine office chic. For all intents and purposes, he was still Felix – he acted like Felix, spoke like Felix, even farted like Felix – except he now had the appearance of a sweet tidily dressed young woman.

Jack felt himself smile a little too wide and cursed silently. He would probably need to touch up his lipstick now. He smoothed his free hand down his flowing skirt and excused himself politely. Watching Felix continue along the corridor in his kitten feels, he felt a mix of relief and pity. Relief, because he had only watched a few seconds of that video before closing the browser. In that moment he could think of nothing worth than being like Felix – completely oblivious.

Sissy vs Sissy vs Sissy Part 1

 3/25

Nine years later...the story continues!

The original five part story is on my index page.

“I didn’t think I was going to come,” Rory nodded to the other man in the room dressed in a matching black suit and tie, “but part of me just had to make sure the bitch was dead, That it was over…” he shuddered, “that everything she did to us, was over for good.”

“You think Aunt Clarissa kept the tapes?” Jared asked, visibly uncomfortable at the memory of the ordeals the former friends, fellow sissies and one time rivals had shared at the hands of their not-a-real-Aunt Clarissa, who nine years ago had made them compete to sissify each other in order to avoid her favourite dildo, ‘Big Red.’ Though the result that day had been a draw, Aunt Clarissa had been the real winner and she had pulled out the equally formidable ‘Big Blue’ in order to punish both feminized boys simultaneously. What the friends had been too blinded by humiliation to realise that day was that their fake Aunt and her real niece, Anna, had filmed every second of their ordeal to hold over them as blackmail fuel for the next four years. Every summer Aunt Clarissa had summoned them for three weeks of ‘fun’ as her personal sissies until finally one year they made a pact to leave her call unanswered. What more could she do to them that would be worse than people seeing the tapes.

“Maybe she will leave them to us in her will…” Rory snorted waving his invitation to the Wake and Will Reading in one hand. He turned to the small locked box that held Clarissa’s ashes. “You gonna give them to us as one final embarrassment you old c…”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” said a regal looking man who had just entered the room. “No, I have it on good authority that Lady Clarissa will be leaving her entire estate and fortune to one sole heir. I am her executor after all.” He paused to stroke his moustache while the two men mouthed ‘fortune’ in clear surprise. “I am Mr. Gregory by the way, and, in fact, I have it right here.” He pulled a card from his inside jacket pocket. “Lady Clarissa leaves everything to her,” he coughed and pulled the card close to his spectacles, “…to her ‘most adorable little sissy’.”

Rory and Jared gaped at the man in shock, but their surprise was quickly interrupted by another figure entering the room. A lithe embodiment of femininity slinked before them in a short prissy baby blue dress, lacy white gloves and stockings, and towering high-heels. She minced over to the urn in front of Mr. Gregory and, with a demure pout, laid one hand on the box holding what was once her aunt.

“Anna!” Jared gasped finally recognising the once tomboy that had assisted in Aunt Clarissa’s torment of them all those years ago. With frills and curls in place of her baggy jeans and boy-cut hair, she was a completely different creature than the one he remembered. “But you weren’t Aunt Clarissa’s sissy, I was. That’s my fortune. I earned it.” Thoughts of shame were washed away by greed. . 

“Relax, both of you.” Mr. Gregory glanced at Anna who was now smiling sweetly. “The three of you... The official will reading is not for another two days. Today is about paying respects to our dearly departed Lady Clarissa. On Thursday we will establish who is her ‘most adorable little sissy’.

Gone Today, Hair Tomorrow [COMMISSION]

Commissioned on DeviantArt

As he sat on the stone steps outside the convention center, Luke found himself running his hands through the hair yet again. THE hair, not HIS hair. Thick, blonde and glossy, it bore little resemblance to the short brown tufts that usually sat atop his cranium. It was heavy for one, cascading over his shoulders like a silky waterfall and plunging over the stylish leather jacket his Aunt had picked out for him. By length it almost stretched to the hem of his miniskirt from which his glossy stockinged legs sprouted. Were he to pull the golden locks straight, they could probably reach his panties, he thought ruefully as yet another convention goer nodded approvingly as they passed by.

In retrospect, there were probably better ways to get fired than shaving the head of his sleeping Aunt as she snored soundly in one of her own salon chairs. Desperation had ground him down and the clippers had been just sitting there begging for him to use them. Quitting had not been an option, he had his Mom to blame for that. She had demanded he work to pay his keep this summer and her sister just happened to have a job available sweeping up at her award winning hair and beauty salon. It could have even been a good way to earn a little cash if she wasn't such a slave driver.

He had felt some guilt – he wasn't a monster. It was obvious the reason Aunt Louisa was being such a hardass was the upcoming Hairapalooza Beauty Convention. She had a stall booked for the nation's premier hair and beauty event and needed to be at the top of her game. Over the last month hundreds of women had come through the salon for his Aunt to hone her skills and Luke had had to clear after every single one. His hands hurt from sweeping, his back hurt from sweeping, and his ears hurt being yelled at. Hence the grade one clipper being run right across Louisa's skull mid-snooze.

Only she hadn't fired him. She hadn't even mentioned it. Rather the word that left her furious lips had been 'lawsuit'. Apparently, her own immaculate appearance was key to her image and never more was this image more important than this weekend's convention. Surely, there was an alternative, he had begged...

Luke heard heeled boots clicking towards where he sat on the stone steps and looked up. Aunt Louisa had arrived, her head still buzzed short. He felt his scalp throb where the hair had been laced into it. Not HIS hair, HER hair. Aunt Louisa's own golden locks had been threaded into his head as she prepared her hair model for her convention stall and the day's competitions. She had dressed him next and then he had sat for hours as her partner meticulously painted his face with cosmetics – it was a beauty salon after all.

“You look like you are about to cry,” Aunt Louisa smirked cruelly. “You can for all I care. Such are the wonders of permanent makeup...”

Don't Mess With Witches!!

 2/25

I don’t know who needs to hear this! But…I beg you, don’t fuck with witches?! Not even a little. Not even a tiny little bit. Let me cut to the chase! My name is Barry. Do I look like a Barry to you? Do these big ‘ole titties look like Barry’s titties? Because a month ago I looked like a Barry. A month ago I looked like regular old broke ass Barry trying to find somewhere cheap to live so I could find a job and spend the rest of my life paying off the tuition I racked up to get the job in the first place. Except, now I am racked up with these…

You know how I got these? Desperation! See, to get the place to live to get the job to get the lifetime of indentured servitude, I need some liquidity – more debt. I know right… Except, I don’t have a job yet, so no-one is going to lend me any money for a deposit. That is, until my boy Kyle told me about a friend of a friend who knew this old lady who lends money. Oh, by the way, fuck you, Kyle!!

So, anyway, I went to see the lady – sweet old thing, and yes, she immediately agreed to lend me the green no questions asked. It was too good to be true, so I asked what was the catch and she pulled out this little figurine made of soft clay. I remember being a bit creeped out because it looked a little like me and was even dressed a bit like me, but the euphoria took over and besides I would pay her back in two weeks when I got my first paycheck.

Well, unfortunately for me, I fluffed interview after interview and turned up at the sweet little old lady’s door empty handed two weeks later, she just smiled warmly and placed the me-like figure on her coffee table. Producing a new piece of clay, she tore it in two and rolled two perfect little balls and pushed them up under the hoodie the figure was wearing – that happened to perfectly match the top I had pulled on that morning.

I stood there with my mouth wide open as two fleshy mounds grew on my chest in real time – two large bouncing and very real female breasts. I stayed away from her house after that – probably ill-advised but have any of my actions been even remotely wise? Every day that followed, every day that I didn’t pay my debt, I woke up with something new – long silky hair, soft feminine features, a curvy womanly body – no doubt that lady was sculpting that creepy miniature version of me. Today, it seems like she must have borrowed from the wardrobe of Cabaret Barbie because suddenly I am dressed like a stripper.

My options are changing and I worry what my job choices are now if I am to actually pull together this money to pay her back. I ordered this book online, ‘Voodoo for Dummies’ (see, I am even mentioned in the title) to try to find a way to reverse the process, but I am an amateur going up against a pro. All it has done is open my eyes to the arsenal of possibilities that sweet old bitch could still resort to – womanly thoughts, womanly desires, womanly pleasures… I already have the womanly body so is that what’s next? I refuse to even read the chapter on possession… Witches, man, I am telling you…stay the fuck away…!

The Intervention

 1/25

I already have a flashback cap planned out for this standalone

We’ve all got one of those friends – the kind that need saving. I don’t just mean once either – it’s again and again, and each time, despite how you think you have finally got through, you know they'll be needing another rescue sometime soon. Mine was Phillippa, and even as I sat in the small box room on the end of her bed waxing lyrical about how she would get past this and find something better, I didn’t quite believe my own words. Part of me knew this would be just the latest episode in a long line of fuck ups.

This time she had fallen in with a local gang. I suspected drugs were involved but I knew she was turning tricks for them, and even with her history, this shit seemed a little deeper than usual. She looked genuinely scared that I was here and kept glancing nervously to the large chest at the end of the bed – the only other furniture in the grotty one room apartment. Finally, I gave up and asked what was inside.

“It’s what they make me wear. For the clients…” She stammered. “It’s not clothing.” She explained seeing my confusion, “it’s like a kind of bodysuit. I put it on and I become their whore. It makes me feel things. It makes me want to do things. It’s how they make sure I service the clients properly.” Phillippa’s face glowed red with humiliation and a tear rolled down one cheek.

Suddenly, the intercom beeped and I saw panic enter Phillippa’s eyes. “It’s them!” She hissed. “You need to hide!” I surveyed the room around me – bare except for the bed and the chest. My friend threw open the lid and I saw what looked like the body of a young women wearing a night gown filling the inside space. “You need to put it on!” She shrieked. “If they find you in here, they will kill us both!” No time for a second thought, I stripped off my clothes and Phillippa stuffed them into a pillowcase. She then helped me into the bodysuit and folded me into the chest – finally closing the lid and consigning me to darkness.

Not seconds later, angry male voices filled the room outside my box – a muffled scream, more shouting, a crash of something hitting the wall, more shouting, and then finally the slam of a door. When I was sure the coast was clear, I pushed open the top of the test.

As I had pulled on the bodysuit, I had been operating on pure adrenaline. I hadn’t had time to look at it, but now in the empty room, I ran slender feminine hands over skin that felt as real as my own.. I caught sight of myself in the mirrored ceiling and a beautiful young woman in a negligee gazed back. No hint of my male self could be seen, and more importantly, no hint of a way to remove the suit.

Realising that if I wanted to remove it, I needed to find my friend, I stumbled out of the apartment and into the night. It was a sketchy neighbourhood and I saw men leering at me from street corners as cars whizzed past. I had walked about half a mile when I started to feel strange. A heat smouldered in my abdomen before spreading into my groin with a tingling warmth. As I tried to focus, Phillippa’s words pounded in my head.” It makes me feel things. It makes me want to do things.”