Liza's Final Lesson Part 3 (an Aiko Story)

 

“Aiko, can I ask you something?” said Liza after they had finally arrived at her Japanese friend's house. Their quarry was slumped on the floor, still drooling over painted lips. As soon as they had arrived, Aiko had urgently swapped Theo out of the diaper and flimsy pyjama set into simple set of satin panties, a basic white dress lined with material similar to a wedding veil and frilly ankle socks. She was now sorting through her vast wardrobe for the perfect outfit to complete his transformation. “Earlier,” Liza continued, “you said you used to feminise any boy, not just those who deserved it. Can I ask what changed?” She administered another dose of spray candy to the prone Theo.

“Oh Lizy...” Aiko popped her head out from behind a closet door. “Remember what I once told you. The sissies are not our prisoners, they are our guests. We should give them what they 'paid' for. I am not saying never take a boy because you want him. I am saying we can't be cruel. We must not be tyrants. We must be loving guiding hands.” She gently caressed the side of Theo's face and began to brush his hair in preparation of his final form.

“But, what about the clothes I put him in at mine?” Liza protested. “The satin pyjamas, the stockings...I have seen your blog. You have dressed boys in similar before. But when I do it, it is 'slutty'?” She administered more spray candy to Theo.

“You didn't mention the diaper...” Aiko raised an eyebrow, then finally sighed. “You're right...” she started to lay-out a dress onto her bed. “I did use to do things differently. But I changed... Things happened to my sissies... Things happened to my friend Nish..” She suddenly shot out an arm to prevent Liza giving Theo another dose of spray candy and looked her friend in the face sternly. “You give him too much!? You can't do that!? My candy is so powerful. It unravels them – unlocks the primal urges beneath. But not everything inside is sweetness and light! He could hurt you!” Aiko held Liza's gaze for a long pause. “Look!” Aiko helped a completely compliant Theo to his feet – his thousand yard stare boring through the bedroom wall. The veiled dress cascaded over his body but a throbbing erection tented his satin panties mercilessly. Aiko prodded at it with her hairbrush and the boy's upper-lip twitched.

“Holy crap!” Liza exclaimed. “I did that? Well...I mean, the candy did that?”

“With the candy we buy their control,” Aiko's face softened slightly. “But once we have it, we must keep it. We must be responsible...” The two girls stood in silence and for a few minutes and watched the boy's boner slowly fold back into its prissy home. “Good, now let's get Theo ready to join Danny at the cupcake store, shall we?”

Liza's Final Lesson Part 2 (an Aiko Story)

 

Aiko and Liza caught up with Theo later that day. Danny was securely under Mrs. Doyle's supervision and the girls had been approaching Liza's home when they saw the older boy painting an offensive slogan on a park bench. Liza had approached him stealthily from behind and shot two quick hits of the spray candy into his open mouth before he could even register her presence, He had turned to face the girls, his eyes burning intensely framed by a long blond skater-boy hairstyle. Aiko gripped Liza's hand confidently as they stood frozen beneath the looming boy. A smile spread across her face as she watched the fury in Theo's eyes melt before them into something softer...something malleable.

“I don't get it, Lizy,” Aiko exclaimed, “why would you even own nasty clothes like that?” They had dragged Theo back to Liza's house as it was closest and the mad rush to get him out of his boy clothes had begun. Unfortunately, Liza didn't have access to the same extensive kawaii wardrobe that Aiko had in her home and so Theo was kneeling in front of them in a combination of a satin bedtime set that was as much stripper as it was sissy, white stockings and six-inch platform heels. “And a diaper?!” Aiko cried. “What the fudge, Liza!?”

“I just have them okay...” Liza averted her eyes and blushed deep red. “He's too tall for the rest of my outfits so this is all there was... And the diaper...I don't know. Does it matter?” She seemed cross at her friend's interrogation and turned to give Theo a top-up of the spray candy. Any resistance the boy had was long gone and he still hadn't put his arms down from when Liza had raised them above his head to adjust the shiny material of his top. They were just suspended there above his natural long blonde hair that Aiko had brushed and styled while Liza managed his outfit. His eyes stard blankly at them, almost zombie like, and for a moment Liza felt thankful she had put a diaper on him. He didn't seem to be able to function at all. She gave him one last spray of the candy and wiped a smudge of lip-gloss from his chin.

“We should get him to mine!” Aiko frowned disapprovingly. “This won't do at all... I don't know why you have these ugly things Liza, but our sissies should be delicate and feminine...not...not...slutty!” She raised an embarrassed hand to her mouth.

“Drop it, okay!” Liza snapped. “Fine, we will take him to your house. I think Theo could do with some fresh air anyway.” She scowled at the boy and pulled his hands down from above his head. The boy just stared at her blankly – a bead of drool trickling down his painted lower lip. “I think we will both need to hold him up. He's not looking too steady and those heels are no joke...believe me! Or...so I imagine...”

Liza's Final Lesson Part 1 (an Aiko Story)

 All of my Aiko stories are in order on my index page

“Did you know, my dear Lizy...?” Aiko rested her hand under her chin with a nostalgic sigh, “when I first started collecting my little sissies...when I first discovered the power of that precious candy, I used it on every boy I could get my hands on. I painted my home town pink. People were terrified that if they even breathed the same air as me, I would be leading them home in satin panties.” She gave her friend a coy smile. “Most often they were right!” Aiko looked Liza directly the eye. “It took me time to learn that the sweetest treats were those naughty boys who truly deserved to be taught a lesson.” She turned her head to the petticoated creature descending her front steps at a snail's pace. “For example Danny here.”

“With great power, comes great femininity!” Liza nodded sagely. “After that nasty graffiti he sprayed on Mrs. Doyle's cupcake shop, he definitely deserved some redecorating of his own!” The two girls stopped talking to watch the boy finally make it to the bottom. His head was bowed, either in shame or to concentrate on placing the platform Mary Janes down the steps without turning one of his stocking covered ankles.

“Speaking of spray paint,” Aiko chirped cheerfully, “that cheeky little invention of yours is quite genius. Every girl should have one, just in case!” She gestured to the cylinder in Liza's hand. It was a can of specially engineered spraying candy that Liza had wielded like a pepper spray into their victim's mouth even as he was still painting the shop window blue. Shortly after, it was Aiko and Liza who had been doing the painting – Danny's lips and cheeks and nails – both finger and toe – as the boy's resistance crumbled in order to get another dose of the girls' liquid candy

“But what about his partner in crime?” Liza exclaimed. “Theo!” She repeated the name that Danny had quickly surrendered as the girls fastening one of Aiko's pretty patterned dresses extra tight around him. “I think he was the ring-leader. He seemed older. He deserves this too – maybe even more!” Danny raised his head and met their gaze for the first time as if in agreement. He quickly averted his eyes to studying the bag held in one hand – seemingly remembering his predicament.

“Patience, Lizy!” Aiko tutted. “A sissy in the hand is worth two in the bush. Besides, we don't want little Danny here thinking we don't care about him, do we? Theo will get his very sweet just desserts in good time – but first we need to walk Danny back down to Mrs. Doyle's to clean that poor window he got all dirty. Come on, let's get going now – the heels are so he can reach the high bits but I want to walk him the long way there to get him used to them. I am hoping there will be time left for him to help out Mrs. Doyle in the store – but I'm not greedy...not like I used to be... Once upon a time I would have put my candy in the cupcake batter and had every boy in town begging to be put in panties...”

Even the Biggest Fish Fears a Shark

9/25

The Pink n Prissy Collective and all their captions (and storyline reboots...) are on my index page.

Grace sat swaddled in the oversized hoodie alone in her room in the house shared by the members of the Pink n Prissy Collective. It had been six months since her friends had rescued her but time as the monstrous Kirsten’s personal plaything still haunted her. Hiding her body behind baggy clothes, she hid inside a shadow of her former self. There was a soft knock on her door and Josie, Charlotte, Terri and Cassie, the rest of the Pink n Prissy Collective, appeared in its frame. Terri, the group’s tech guru, was holding a laptop.

“We’ve got a surprise for you!” Charlotte skipped into the room and the four girls planted themselves on Grace’s bed. The computer screen was open to an app called Mugshot and Charlotte spotted Grace’s confusion. “It’s a new face-to-face video chat app. It launched while you were…away. It has lots of features that I am sure you will get used to over time.” She nodded to Terri who was in the process of setting up a call with a user named Emi_theShark.

“Don’t worry, she’s not scary,” Cassie soothed, “well, I guess she is…just not to us. To us she is sweet! She’s kind of like our idol!” The videocall connected and the laptop screen was filled by the face of an attractive yet powerful looking woman with long bangs framing a pair of startling eyes. Grace noticed with surprise that a shiny latex top rose all the way over her throat.

“Hey, you guys!” Emi greeted them cheerfully. “And I suppose this is Grace?” She sipped a glass of champagne and smiled warmly. “Is she ready for my gift?” Emi appeared to adjust her screen so that the girls could see a wider angle of her room and Grace gasped. Emi was sat at a large extendable dining table with a hole that someone had added between two of the slats. A fully encased black latex head was trapped by the hole – the only visible parts of its occupant a pair of pink painted lips and a set of piercing eyes.

“Kirsten…” Grace whispered in disbelief. “But how?!”

“There’s always a bigger fish, kid!” Emi grinned. “And then there are sharks!” She shared a link across the chat and Terri opened what looked like an OnlyFemmes profile belonging to Emi. The page showed numerous video feeds of different figures in various arrangements of bondage and Terri clicked the newest post at the top. The screen now displayed a wide angle view of Kirsten’s predicament and the girls could see that the rest of her body below the table was also clad in seamless black latex and strapped in place with leather and metal clasps. “I have set you up as my newest subscriber, so let me show you how this works,” Emi explained. “Our ‘big fish’ here is equipped with a selection of my toys that can be activated by the subscribers’ keyboard. ‘N’ is of course nipples. Give it a try!” Grace tentatively pressed the keyboard and watched as her former tormentor gave an uncharacteristic squeal.

“’A’ is Cassie’s favourite,” Terri chided her friend who was known to have a buttplug in her bedside drawer, and pushed the corresponding key. This time Kirsten gave a yelp and jumped up, banging her shoulders on the underside of the table.

“Finally, most of my guests are male,” Emi continued, “so ‘C’ is usually to activate the toy attached to their cock. “But, unintentionally, I think it still works!” Grace pressed the ‘C’ key and within a few seconds, Kirsten’s eyes started to roll back into her latex clad head. When she removed her finger, the eyes returned with a clear film of shame at the degradation she was enduring. “I agree,” Emi nodded, “use that one sparingly.”

“Grace, we are so glad to have you back!” Josie the leader of the Pink n Prissy Collective took her hand. “I know we can’t take back what Kirsten did to you, but I sure hope this helps get your confidence back. There are a lot of boys out there – and we need your help to feminise them all!”

Whatever Happened to Rodney? (Slight Oversight)

 Original caption is here 

The young man exiting the interview room looked nothing short of professional. A dark grey suit paired nicely with a black tie and an expensive haircut – Rodney longed for the days when he could put himself together in such a way. The man glanced at his fellow job applicant approvingly and began to shuffle papers into a briefcase in a manner that oozed confidence and competency. Rodney sighed. It was going to have to be one of 'those' interviews. Blushing slightly, he unfastened the top two buttons of his striped blouse.

When Rodney had originally pulled on the bodysuit all those years ago, it was intended to be a treat, a one-off to get his urges out of his system – or so he had thought. Little had he known at the time that due to his own carelessness, it would be a transformation that would never be reversed. He did find the bodysuit's missing key eventually, It was folded into the second page of the product's welcome pack, but by then it far too late and Rodney's fate, and the bodysuit, were well and truly sealed. Needless to say, he did get the urges out of his system very quickly indeed

The bodysuit had come with some additional extras – character modifiers intended to give the wearer an experience akin to a beautiful yet somewhat airheaded woman. These changes had made Rodney's adaptation to his new existence even more difficult. Ideas seemed more complicated, words felt longer and he would often find himself staring off into space, his lips parted and his eyes vacant. He hated himself for it, but more and more he found himself having to rely on his sexuality to get what he needed. He perfected the art of flirting, flashing a but of skin when it would benefit him and, once the platform grew in notoriety, even selling the odd picture on OnlyFemmes.

Rodney survived through embracing his unwanted femininity but he still longed to create a life for himself that stood independently of a strategically chewed lip, or a perfectly timed pushup bra – a life that belonged to him and not the now permanent bodysuit.

Applying for the the Personal Assistant job had been a chore. The advert had been paragraphs of long words he had to put into a search engine – taking his time to ensure he got the spelling right – but the birth of AI had helped a lot with the process and he found himself squealing with joy when the email came through offering an interview. Still determined not to resort back to the tried and tested exploitation of his appearance, he dressed conservatively in a smart blouse and dark slacks, his eyeglasses perched professionally on his nose.

The young man finished packing his briefcase and smiled politely. He waved a silent fairwell and left the waiting area already on a phone call confidently telling someone how he had nailed the interview. Rodney hesitated before unfastening two more buttons on his blouse.

The Changing Seas Part 4

By the time AquaLure’s Deep Within campaign launched, the world had officially lost its mind over Eva. There were perfume ads, workout routines, even a cookbook called Eating Like a Mermaid. Miranda DeValle basked in it all like a CEO who believed she’d personally discovered Atlantis. The “grand reveal” was set for a live broadcast from the same beach where it all began. There’d be fireworks, holograms, drones—the works. Miranda promised “a message of truth from our muse herself.”

Backstage, Miranda checked her reflection one last time and hissed into her headset, “Is she mic’d up? I want sincerity but not too sincere.”

Evan stood a few feet away, wrapped in a towel, hair damp from the ocean. He tweaked his delicate features into a sweet smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Miranda. I’ll keep it real.”

When the lights came up, Miranda strutted onto the glass runway that jutted over the surf. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she beamed, “AquaLure’s spirit of purity, rebirth, and authenticity… Eva!” Eva stepped forward, calm and radiant. Cameras zoomed in, phones lifted, hashtags multiplied like algae blooms. “Eva,” Miranda said, voice syrupy, “tell the world what AquaLure means to you.”

Evan took the microphone, expression unreadable. The crowd hushed. “What does AquaLure mean to me?” he said slowly. “It means illusion. It means lighting tricks, camera angles, and silicone fins.” A ripple of confusion passed through the audience. Miranda’s smile froze. Evan held up a familiar object: the battered prototype fin, still patched with glue and sand from the storm. “This,” he said, “is your ‘mystical mermaid.’I designed it. I made it. I built her. And she was never real. Just a well engineered mascot!” The crowd gasped. Drones hovered uncertainly, unsure if they were filming a scandal or performance art. Miranda lunged for the mic, and Evan slipped away from her grasp and continued, louder now, voice clear and ringing. “But I was real. I got swept out to sea trying to save this thing. When I came back, everyone decided to believe the fantasy instead of the truth. Maybe that says more about marketing than magic.” Then he smiled, soft and genuine. “But here’s the funny part—I think the sea decided to keep me anyway.” With that, she dropped the fin, turned, and walked calmly into the water.

The crowd erupted—half outrage, half awe. Cameras flashed. Miranda stood soaked in spotlight and silence, her empire unraveling one viral clip at a time. Evan waded in until the waves reached his waist. There was a shimmer, a flicker of silver light, and then he was gone.

By morning, #AquaLureHoax was trending. Investors bailed. Miranda was last seen trying to spin the disaster as “a performance about truth in advertising.” Nobody bought it.

And the world kept spinning – the tides kept turning and within weeks the public had moved onto the next thing. Eva the Mermaid was forgotten – for the most part anyway. Local fishermen gossiped about an ethereal figure, little more than a silhouette really, sat on the rocks below the cliffs – always after a storm – a women's laughter carried on the breeze. Now and then, one of them would find a perfect seashell washed ashore – always etched with the same single line. “The sea is real enough for me.

 

The Changing Seas Part 3

 

Evan should have been dead, or at least missing, but by the time he dragged himself back to land, he was trending. #RealMermaid, #OceanAuthentic, and #AquaLureLives had flooded social media. The clips were everywhere: shaky phone footage of his half-human, half-tail form on the beach, saltwater glittering under sunlight. In every thumbnail, he looked like the perfect viral product shot.

Miranda greeted him at the beach with an army of marketing executives before he had even found dry clothes. “Darling, what a miracle!” she gushed. “You’ve transcended branding. You are the brand.” And that’s how Evan found himself back on an AquaLure set—this time not as the designer but as the object. Within a week, “Eva the Mermaid” was fronting a global campaign. There were billboards, interviews, photoshoots. He hadn’t agreed to any of it—but he also hadn’t said no, mostly because every time he tried to explain he used to be a man, people nodded sympathetically and said, “That’s so brave of you to share your journey.”

The first commercial shoot was at a private beach. Drones buzzed, makeup artists fussed, and Miranda circled like a shark in designer heels. “Darling, you glow,” she beamed. “The ocean has claimed you! You are AquaLure.”

Evan just stood there frozen in the surf wearing a magnificent sequinned dress that had been engineered to break away as he entered the water and his tail revealed itself. It was too much – the drones continued the hum as if inside his head, the excited chattering that surrounded him, dozens of expectant eyes, all on him... He raised his hands to his temples to clamp his growing headache. Everywhere he looked, there were versions of himself—billboards, mock-ups, even a foam cutout of his silhouette with a “SCAN FOR 10% OFF” QR code where his face should be...where her face should be. Miranda and AquaLure had seen him as nothing more than a tool to get what they wanted for years, and now that everything had changed, nothing had changed at all...

“I need a break!” He declared to an open-mouthed Miranda and glided away before she could point out they hadn't even started. He sat on a rock and wondered if it was the same one he'd sat on that fateful night he'd been washed out to sea. The sun reflected on the perfect skin of his arms as he tried to steady his breathing. The past few weeks had been a blur, but actually being 'Eva' had been the least of it. Being a mermaid was one thing, but being 'their' mermaid was another thing entirely. He had always been 'theirs', been Miranda's, but now she acted like she owned him.

Behind him he heard Miranda excitedly giving an interview. “She represents the power of nature and femininity,” Miranda purred. “Of course, she’s entirely real.”

'Entirely real,' Evan thought bitterly. No mention of how I created her...and then became her... It was then that Evan decided to show everyone just how real mermaids really were.