Liquorice (a Liza story)

 All my Aiko and Liza stories are on my index page in order

“Can I go do the back yard now?” Glenn whispered. “Somewhere less people can see?” His concern was apparent – it was garage sale season and dozens of would be bargain hunters were passing by his position trimming the hedge. The manly nature of his task, contrasted perfectly with the vintage polka-dot dress he had been made to put on, not to mention the velvet lined high-heels and thick face of make up.

“Don't be silly!” Liza giggled. “There are no hedges in the back yard. You should know, we sat out there drinking lemonade enough times back when we were going out. You would know if you ever paid attention. If you had paid attention to me, we would probably still be going out rather than me watching you do yard work in laced panties!” She laughed as the boy blushed and then double-downed on her amusement as she noticed her Step-Dad watching them through the window in his French maid's uniform – feather duster in hand “Things would be different for a lot of people if they paid attention to me...”

“How could anyone not...” spoke a crisp masculine voice from behind her. Liza whirled around in surprise to come face to face with a boy about her age, ruggedly handsome with a stylish stubble and leather biker jacket. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your Mom is never going to win any beauty contests.”

“Huh? No!” Liza stammered, scrambling for her words as Glenn rolled his eyes from beneath his blonde wig. He felt weirdly offended at the insinuation he made for an ugly woman. “I mean, that's not my Mom. That's my...erm...ex-boyfriend.” She smiled, finally regaining her composure. “And I don't know about the beauty contests...you should meet his stylist!”

“Right!” The boy grinned broadly, holding her eyes like a magnet. “I'm Jay,” he stuck out a hand, “and you're Liza. I have seen you around,” he explained,”I have seen you with that Japanese girl who wears way too many ribbons. So, tell me, how come dear Mommy here is your ex? He keep stealing your shoes?”

“No,” Liza giggled a little too hard, “it wasn't that. Glenn was always a little too vanilla for me. I like my boys a bit darker...” she eyed the black leather of Jay's jacket. “I like more of an acquired taste. I like liquorice!” The boy gave a toothy smile and Liza matched it as if some invisible message had passed between them. Eventually, Jay broke their connection and glanced at the bag of candies sat on the end of the hedge that had been keeping Glenn motivated in his yard work. Liza followed his eyes and hurriedly snatched up the bag of sweets. “No,” she shook her head as she stuffed them in a pocket. “Those aren't for you.”

Whatever Happened to Trever? (Freebee)

This continues my overlapped Network/Femnonymous story, both of which are in full on my index page. It is a Flashback Friday of my caption Freebee

“Remember,” Madison hissed to her cameraman and sole companion as he finished setting up his equipment. “Try not to stare!” Bryan nodded, thinking he could always hide behind the viewfinder if there was any risk. That idea immediately vanished as he saw their interviewee waddling across the pool area towards them. The woman had enormous breasts floating unnaturally in a barely-there black bikini top and string bottoms that clung around cartoonishly exaggerated hips. Bryan's eyes flitted to the front of the swimsuit that was ominously smooth. This bimbo used to be a guy?! He stared aghast.

“Sorry...” He muttered as Madison introduced them. They were Frontline Entertainment Media, a web exclusive entertainment news channel that covered everything from the latest celebrity scandals to up and coming new shows. In this case it was both.

“Hi there, Tiff!” Madison held out her hand warmly, a microphone baring the insignia 'FEM' in the other. “We're so glad you agreed to have a quick chat with us! As a former employee of the Network and a...errr...victim of Femnonymous's campaign of terror, the news that the Network plans to relaunch by airing the fabled lost tapes of Femnonymous's version of the Network's own show, 'The Apprentits', must have come as a shock to you?” The woman formerly known as Trevor stared back dumbly – a pair of fat pink lips pursed in a silent pout.

“You used to work in recruitment for the Network,” Bryan prompted. “But the contestants on the lost tapes weren't recruited - they were kidnapped. Do you have any thoughts on that?” The woman's blank look remained but she slowly turned one of her platform heels inwards and cupped her hands under her breasts provocatively. “What's wrong with her?” Bryan whispered to Madison.

“I read that Femnonymous did some kind of behaviour modification on her. Apparently ramped up her sex drive to 11 and fried her decision making.” Madison replied. “It's probably how she ended up working here...”

“Hey Tiff!” A sleazy guy from across the pool area yelled as if on cue. “The fluffers are almost done with these guys. I am telling you, you have your work cut out today. You need lube, or you good?” The man glanced at Madison and Bryan. “Hell, maybe see if your man with the camera wants a turn on the other side of the lens... We all know there's plenty of Tiff to go around.”

“Wait!” Madison grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Can't you tell us anything about what happened to you? About what might have happened to the contestants on these tapes?” The former Trevor tried to pull her slender arm free. “What about the surgeries they did to you?”

“Surgeries?!” Tiff turned back to them, her eyes suddenly wide and very alert. “There were no surgeries! That's not what they did... They have this chair...no, a throne! They plug you into it, and turn you into whatever they want. It's like a dream. Wait, no...” She blinked rapidly and her cleavage heaved. “It's a fucking nightmare!”

Tell Tale

This is a new caption for my Mannequeen series. The rest of the story is on my index page

It started with a call from one of her confidential informants – not a conversation but fifty seconds of breathing and frantic tapping. Detective Lara Lake knew something was wrong the moment she entered Harry Federici's putrid apartment. Nothing but silence and fear greeted her and her heart thudded in her chest as she inched inside, her gun drawn. She found Harry in the bathroom – or rather what had become of him. She recognised him by the panic in his eyes and she had no doubt her former snitch was the latest victim of the Mannequeen.

Harry was staring into the mirror at his new form, soft pink lips parted in terror and one hand grasping at his throat. He was naked but for panties and stockings, and large round breasts, indistinguishable from the real thing hung freely. Lara had seen this before in the Mannequeen's victims – the initial shock of waking to find a female body where theirs had once been. Panicked hands that touched and pinched at every inch of skin, desperately looking for a way out, disbelieving at how real it felt. She spotted the tape recorder next to the sink.

“Hello, Detective Lake. I want to play a game. I am so enjoying this cat and mouse set up we have going on that I decided to leave you a lump of cheese...my dearest rodent. Harry, your dearest CI has been permanently sealed up inside one of my state-of-the-art bodysuits...” The naked figure at the sink started to tremble violently. “You may also notice that I have taken away his ability to speak. The once loose lipped Harry Federici will never again utter a single word. That is because what he has to say is not important. It is what you do next, Detective that will speak volumes.”

Lara looked up. The informant has begun frantically clawing at his black silk panties. Somehow it had taken him this long to realise it was indeed a fully female bodysuit. “The choice is yours Detective. You can take Harry in as the latest but by no means greatest victim of the Mannequeen. He will be processed and questioned and your clods will as always try every futile means of freeing him from his new body. He may no longer be able to talk but there are other ways to communicate. I wonder how your colleagues will react when he tells them of our special little rivalry... Or, Harry can be left to embrace his new life as a silent, but very sexy, lady of the night. The choice is yours, Detective, choose wisely.”

The tape ended and Lara's eyes met with the terrified informant's. He had been ready to turn evidence against a powerful mob boss, but this encounter was a step too far for his nerves. She thought for a moment and then brought her phone to her ear. “Hey, you still got a contact for Don Fabio? Yeah, tell him I've found one of his girls. Doesn't seem to speak English. I'll text you the address.” She put the phone away and looked back at Harry one last time. “I wouldn't bother putting on clothes. You probably won't be needing them...”  

 

So, what's next for my captions?

 You may have noticed that I just finished posting the last of my Season 7 captions. My seasons of captions are where I put my core stories involving all my biggest ideas and recurring series and characters. While I also post commissions and the odd impulse story midweek, along with a flashback caption on a Friday, I post my main captions every Sunday in blocks of 25 and then finish with a teaser for the next block of captions.

So, now that I am finished with Season 7 am I going back on hiatus for another couple of years?

NO!

I am just finishing up Season 8 and should be ready to start posting it by the end of the month. It is again 25 captions that I will post every Sunday, and is called "Making the Punishment Fit the Crime." Overall the stories have a bit of a recurring justice theme and included will be multipart stories featuring Femnonymous, Aiko, the Mannequeen, the Pink n Prissy Collective and Bimbo Note. Over the next few weeks I will be posting Flashback Fridays that will set up some of the main storylines as well as some other stories that feed into the Mannequeen and Aiko stories to come.

Season 7 Epilogue: The Network Presents...

26/25

Season 7 has ended but not without a little sting in the tail. I will be posting about what's coming next very shortly but here is a little continuation of my Network and Femnonymous series. Both are available in full on my index page.

Bryce uncapped the bottle of bourbon and filled the two glasses on his desk. He handed one to the other man in the office and clinked a toast. Despite it being years since he had been CEO of The Network in any kind of active capacity, the tradition of Friday afternoon drinks with his chief legal advisor had persevered and as usual both men were shooting the shit.

“I am telling you Bob – this new show, Hot House, is our way back in. Viewers can’t get enough of it. The audience is still there for our product. We could air Spot that Sissy tomorrow, hell, Make up or Fake Up, Mutually Assured Distraction – put any of that shit back on screen and the viewership would eat it right up.”

“Right…” Bob replied tentatively. “But aren’t you forgetting? The numbers were never the problem. It was them! It was…Femnonymous…” He almost whispered the last word. “I am sure you don’t need reminding, but they kidnapped six of our junior producers and promised to force them to play their own perverted version of the Apprentits!”

“Sure, sure,” Bryce waved his glass dismissively, “but that was years ago. And here we are, still waiting. I am sure if they were ever going to make good on that, they would have done it by now. And what do we have? A big lot of nothing!”

“Actually…” Bob began uneasily, “nevermind…” He looked down into his drink for several minutes but when he looked back up his friend was still staring at him raptly. Realising Bryce wasn’t going to let it go, he continued. “Alright, but this doesn’t leave this room,” he sighed. “Five years ago, a friend of mine at the FBI contacted me to tell me that they had raided a secret Femnonymous compound on an abandoned island. No-one was there, but they recovered tapes. It was the Apprentits. Their Apprentits!”

“Holy shit!” The CEO’s glass tumbled to the floor. “Have you seen them?!”

“No.” His legal advisor shook his head. “But my contact did send me this.” He turned to a filing cabinet and pulled out one of the drawers. After some rummaging he produced an envelope with the FBI seal and “Classified” stamped on the front. Bob removed a photograph from it and handed it to Bryce. “That’s a still from one of the tapes!” He looked at his friend with a serious expression. “So, you see why we can’t revive The Network?”

“Woah…” Bryce fell into his chair without taking his eyes from the picture. A woman with long blonde hair in a bikini was kneeling before the camera – her body and face clearly surgically enhanced to cartoonish proportions that still failed to hide an expression of shame and helplessness. He tried to match the creature in the photograph to one of the six producers taken by Femnonymous and realised he couldn’t even tell if they were originally male or female. “This is extraordinary!” He met Bob’s eye. “But this is exactly why we should revive The Network. This…” He tapped the photograph. “This could make us millions! Please tell me you can get those tapes! They can be our comeback special!”  

Being Her Valentine Part 3

 

“You really thought a couple of sisters as close as us wouldn't compare Valentine's cards?” Sara cackled gleefully. “You really are a silly sissy...a silly piggy sissy!!” She watched Michael reach up behind his head to where the ballgag was fastened – it was clear he wanted to remove it so he could respond. “What do you think you're doing?” He paused in place. “I wasn't asking you a question. I was stating a fact. You are a pathetic two-timing piggy sissy waste of DNA!” She snorted another fit of giggles as Michael averted his gaze from her. “Right, Steph?”

“Right!” Steph agreed, standing alongside her sister with her arms crossed. She wasn't taking the same level of pleasure from Michael's predicament as Sara but it stung in a different way. He saw the hurt in her eyes, and spite, and a cold need for vengeance. She had been the one he tried to cheat on after all. Sara's taunting was humiliating, but Steph's hollow intensity scared him. What had he been thinking?!

“Hey Mom,” Sara called to Sophia, who had been watching on from the other side of the room since they had dragged Michael back into the house. “What do you think we should do with this bitch? Say, I'm surprised the stupid sissy didn't send you a card too. He's clearly always had the hots for you too. All that pathetic grovelling whenever Steph brought him over for Sunday dinner. Yes, Mrs.. No, Mrs... Three bags full, Mrs...”

“Is it true?!” Steph had a fire in her voice and Michael looked up at her timidly from his position on his knees. The ballgag they had stuffed in his mouth was sucking in his cheeks awkwardly. There was no dignity in the world that could possibly be salvaged from this situation. “All this time... playing house with me... running around after my little sister... and you still thought the sun shone out of my Mom's ass? Well, let's see shall we?! Mom, get over here!”

“Yeah, Mom...” Sara laughed sharing a look with her sister and catching on with her plan. “Come here! Come help us show this piggy sissy what really shines out of your ass!” Sophia stared back tentatively then glanced at the kneeling Michael, who somehow managed to look confused in spite of the ballgag and layers of makeup.

“You girls...” Sophia smiled at her daughters and shook her head. “If I can't say 'no' to you, what chance did this cretin stand? Come on then... Let's do this!” She walked across the room and Michael looked around nervously as Steph and Sara positioned themselves either side of him. Sophia stopped in front of him, turned around and hiked her skirt up so he was face-to-ass with her g-string parted cheeks. Before he could react, the three women acted with impressive coordination. Sophia pulled down her panties and bent over and Steph and Sara each grabbed the back of his head and firmly pressed it forward. Michael's world went black. “Hold him tight, girls!” Sophia hollered. “With that gag, our little piggy will have no choice but to breathe me in!”

Being Her Valentine Part 2

 

“Come on, Steph. Please let me in!” Michael thumped his fists against the glass. “I know I said I would do whatever you wanted, but there is no reason to torture me. I just want to fix our relationship!” He let his hands fall to his sides as his girlfriend continued to stare at him impassively from the other side of the sliding door. He wasn't even sure she could hear him. However, if he continued to shout, he sure would attract the attention of their neighbours. Michael looked around at the multiple houses with direct lines of sight into their yard where he was pleading. What would he look like to them? He surveyed himself in his reflection in the glass door. He really did look like a piggy sissy in the heavy makeup and blonde wig – completely naked except for the hot pink bra and panties. “Come on, Steph!” He begged. “I'm...I'm...” His mind raced. “I'm so cold!” But Steph simply turned around and left her position at the window.

“If you're so cold, put this on!” The door was open just a second but it was long enough for Steph to yell her command and hurl the pink satin dress at him. Michael just stood there dumbly, unfolding it. It had an old-fashioned cut, somewhere between a maid's dress and a babydoll with big poofy sleeves and sown in stockings. He could tell it would be tight but he really was cold and he didn't want to stand around in the bright pink underwear waiting for one of his neighbours to glance out the window. Reluctantly, he pulled the dress over his head and the stockings up his legs. Raising his arms to the watching Steph in a sarcastic pose, he turned and sat down on the decking. Maybe if he made it seem like this didn't bother him, she would end it sooner. He raised his eyebrows and folded his hands in his lap.

“Michael! What in the hell are you doing out here?!” His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of the older woman whose eyes looked like they might pop out of her skull. “And what on earth are you wearing?!” Sophia was Steph's Mom and despite being a good 25 years older, still shared the same elegant good looks. As she blinked more times than any human Michael had ever seen, he felt a wave of fresh shame wash over him at being discovered like this. “You look like a...like a...total sissy!”

“Hey, Mom! I have your car keys!” Michael heard a fresh voice calling from the other side of the fence. The gate through which Sophia had entered the yard swung open once more and the owner of the voice entered. “Hey, Mom – any idea why Steph told us to come round the back...” The new woman stopped mid sentence and her jaw dropped open. Where Sophia was attractive, her youngest daughter, Sara, was stunningly beautiful. She possessed Steph's sharp angular features but retained a youthful mischief her older sister had lost a few years back. It had been why Michael had sent her the Valentine's card. Sara's mouth closed into an evil grin and suddenly he knew exactly what was happening. “I see my sister didn't waste any time punishing you for trying to two-time us...”