The Belle Ringer Part 1

“I still don't get it...” Todd muttered as he surveyed the darkness of the club around him, knowing that in just one more day it would be all lit up and he would be the central attraction. He played with a lock of his long blonde hair nervously. “If you hate this town so much, why do you want to win their annual beauty pageant so badly.”

“I see you are really getting into the dumb blonde persona...” Lauren sighed at her brother. “I'm not going to win their pageant – you are!” She chuckled as Todd blushed. It was truly something that after a year or this, she could still embarrass him. “I can't win. They banned me from competing, remember? But not you! Not my stupid pot-head brother. Just imagine how humiliated they will be when they find out that their tinpot bimbo parade was won by a guy. It will be the end of their stupid tradition! Even if you are hot...”

“But...” Todd began, but he had nothing. He knew by now when arguing with his sister was pointless. She had been preparing him for this for almost a year – a year of makeup, growing out and bleaching his hair, a year of walking in heels, a year of Lauren adding what he was sure were testosterone blockers to his food, a year leading up to tomorrow night. Lauren's creation was almost perfect – he was almost perfect - a cute blonde in a figure hugging white dress and legs to die for. He just needed to keep going for one more day and it would be all over. His year of hell would be over. All he had to do was make a spectacle of himself in front of the entire town. “But...what if I don't win?” He said finally.

“Oh, you're going to win!” Lauren replied confidently. “We both know how motivated you are. You hold up your end of this or that video I have of you and your friends smoking weed goes online and your college offer goes bye-bye. Besides have you seen yourself? Of course you have...” She waved her hand in a manner that implied Todd was hot and he blushed once more. “That said, we are here to remove all doubt.” She gestured to the nightclub around them. “This might be a club tonight but tomorrow its going to be pageant central and I just happen to know that a lot of the props are already here in preparation.” Lauren led him by the hand behind a curtain and sure enough there were boxes tagged with the names of several of the beauty queens. It quickly became apparent that they contained items relating to the talent portion of the show. Lauren immediately set about looking for ways to sabotage each of them – unscrewing part of a juggling slightly, bending a hoop, loosening the wheel on a roller-skate.

“Isn't that kind of dangerous?” Todd's heavily made up eyes flitted between his sister and the boxes.

“Not as dangerous as what will happen if you don't win tomorrow!” Lauren snapped. “If I were you, I would be more focused on your talent!” Todd blushed for a third and deepest time. Of course he was focussed on his talent. How could he not be? A year of pole dancing classes where you were the only guy left an imprint – even when everyone else though you were just another hot blonde in spandex...

 

Slot Shaming

 9/25

“Hey!” Gus spied the enormous figure of Bruno passing the open door of the surveillance suite and summoned him inside. Bruno sidled up behind his diminutive boss, who was perched on the edge of a stool like a budgie in front of a wall of monitors. Each screen depicted live footage of key areas of the casino's main floor. “Looks like Malone is up to his old tricks!” Gus tapped the central console. Bruno leaned in and then squinted, a puzzled look forming on his face. Malone was a notorious local swindler with a penchant for rigging slot machines, but the screen Gus was drawing his attention to showed an elegant young woman in a colourful form fitting dress sat at a row of slots.

“She's cheating?” Bruno frowned. His boss nodded and adjusted something on the screen's settings. The image changed and suddenly everything electronic within shot emitted a blue glow. “I see it.” Bruno exclaimed noticing the pistol shaped device in the woman's hand for the first time. “It's an electromagnetic trigger – exactly like the one Malone uses to stop the reels on the jackpot. But, I don't get it. Where is Malone? And who is the broad?”

“Watch.” Gus grinned like a Cheshire cat and dialled up the sensitivity of filter showing visible electromagnetic fields. Within seconds, the entire outline of the woman's body glowed blue like some kind of alien. “Do you see?” Gus asked. “It is some kind of realistic bodysuit device. That is Malone!”

“What the hell?!” Bruno's jaw dropped open. “But...he looks like a babe... Should I go grab him, boss?”

“Not yet,” Gus pressed his fingers together pensively. “First we send Bubbles.”

On the casino floor, Malone waved the magnetic device across the side of another slot machine and the siren of yet another jackpot rang out triumphantly. He grinned at the symbols all lined up and realised that this time he could see two of each. He blinked and then squeezed his eyes together. Even the facial muscles on this bodysuit felt real. It had been a convenient disguise - UltraReal bodysuits had vendors up and down the strip. Vegas was where people came to escape themselves after all. In his case, it was to escape his universally blacklisted face across every casino in town. He swayed on his stool and noticed for the first time that Bubbles the waitress had left him yet another gin and tonic. The high-roller treatment was nothing new to him, but that was seven now. Saluting his latest jackpot, he raised the glass to his plump lips as the room sloshed around him. A heavy, hairy hand fell onto his bare shoulder and spun him around. Through one half open eye he spotted a gold name-tag that read “Bruno”.

“Seems it's your lucky day!” the brute grinned cruelly. “Hurry!” He guided Malone up off his stool onto swaying legs. “You're due in the champagne room in five minutes. Lot's of horny guys just waiting for you to rub some of your luck off on them...”

Whatever Happened to the Hot House Part 1 (Hot House)

 The last time we saw Jared and the Hot House was in my four part series in Season 7. Here is a Part 4 but you can use the search functionality on the home page to find the rest.

All good things come to an end and Hot House was no exception. It wasn't that it stopped bringing in viewers – audiences were still lapping up watching Emi and her band of girls terrorize their five hapless sissies day and night. The problem was one of greed. The boys' torment made great television and yet the show's directors started to ask how they could make Hot House bigger and better – how could it make more money? The final nail was the news that the Network would be airing the lost Apprentits tapes in full and Hot House's lead showrunner chose to pull the plug so they could prepare a new show to compete. All of the show's remaining housemates were evicted early – with the show retaining the social media accounts of all of them, claiming them forfeited as a result of the show never properly ending. Essentially, there was no winner, so everyone was treated like a loser.

If Jared had thought things were tough the first time he left the Hot House, they were ten times worse the second time. Now, he had a pair of enormous breasts attached to his chest – the cost of re-entry when he had pleaded to be allowed back onto the show, and millions of people worldwide had seen him moaning like a common whore as Emi and her crew fucked him in the ass with their strapons. His implants had made him the house's favourite toy and the feeling was shared with the general public. Weeks after the show had officially ended, viral videos of him being ploughed from behind while the other sissies had their faces shoved into his tits flooded the internet. As you would expect, after their exit, there was no comradery between any of the sissies. None of them wanted to be reminded of their ordeal ever again. They wanted to disappear from the public eye and never come back. The tv show had kept their social media accounts and that was just fine. The difference for Jared was that he still had boobs – big ones.

With no income to speak of, desperation turned him to setting up a GoFundMe to raise money to pay for removal of the implants. His plight got plenty of public attention but next to no donations. Talk shows offered him air time to promote his cause but they insisted he do so as his feminised self.

“So...Jared...” The host addressed him as his eyes flitted over the studio audience. Everyone was staring at him. This was a mistake. Finally, his eyes settled on one of the cameras filming him. He could see himself in a screen attached to the device. The talk show's stylists had gone all out – glossy gaudy makeup made his eyes and lips look huge and the satin top he was wearing was squeezing his enormous tits to bursting point. The only thing that wasn't massive was the microskirt they had gleefully dressed him in. “So...” The host prompted once more to get his attention. “With a new season of Hot House on the way, and promising to be bigger and better, you must be getting some offers to return to the house? Surely, you have a figure in mind they would need to offer for you to join the Hot House for a third time?”

Director's Cut

 

“Look, guys...this is all a big mistake...” Kirk backed away from the two huge men. Both were totally naked, cocks like small veiny arms swinging between their legs. His ass bumped into a classroom desk and his arms shot back to catch himself. Like everything else in the room, it was a prop, and he forced a sheepish grin at the two guys. He had to get out of here – not just this room, but out of this bodysuit before things got any more out of hand. Even as his glossy red lips stretched wide in an empty grin, he was cursing his need to know the truth. Curiosity kills cats but it was about to do a lot worse to his newly acquired pussy if he didn't make a hasty exit.

“You will need to talk to the director about any changes to the scene.” One of the walking erections shrugged. “We just do as we're told...screw who we're told.” He smirked. Kirk nodded back, his whole body trembling. The suit's small breasts trembled with him and not for the first time in the hellish last twenty minutes, he marvelled at its realism. There was no wonder the two guys were looking at him like a hot cooked dinner, he looked exactly like a real fake schoolgirl and the experience felt as real as he looked.

“I can wait!” He replied in a light churlish whisper. Time seemed to slow down and for the first time in months, the idea that Lorna might be cheating on him was the least of his problems. Lorna was his girlfriend and until a few months ago, everything had been going great. Then she started going out at odd times of the night, coming back smelling...strange. Like sex? Kirk was sure it was another guy so one night he had followed her to a small warehouse on the edge of town. It was immediately obvious it was some kind of studio and Lorna had entered through some double doors and then another that had a sign “Actresses Only”. Unsure what to do next, Kirk had spied a rack of what looked like woman on clothes hangers. They were bodysuits, he had realised. He had read about them online – they were ultra-realistic costumes for perverts and anyone who needed to be someone else temporarily – as he had right then. Making a snap decision, he had grabbed the first bodysuit on the rack and taken it into a closet to stretch over his body.

“Here she comes.” One of the men that Kirk had come to realise were porn actors said. Finally, he thought. He could already feel the bodysuit's pocket pussy slowly expanding into his ass. Not only that, but he could not walk in these ridiculous boots. The image of being carted off to hospital like this flashed in his mind.

“I see you've chosen to use one of our bodysuits for the scene.” The woman behind the camera nodded. “That's fine. I get it. A lot of girls want to be able to work without worrying about friends and family seeing them online. Just know we deduct a small fee from your payment.” Kirk gulped. It was Lorna. She wasn't cheating on him. She was a freaking porn director. “Ready to start?”

“I...” The words wouldn't come. If he came clean now, their relationship was as good as over. If he said he no longer wanted to do the scene, he would have to return the suit right there and she would find out it was him – surely ending their relationship. He had to buy some time to come up with a plan. But how? “Alright...” He stammered weakly. “Let's do it.”

“Great!” Lorna smiled, adjusting the camera. “Let's start with you over there by the teacher's desk. Lance will be fucking your mouth and Steve will come in to get his hall pass signed. Then they will Eiffel Tower you over the desk and we'll go from there...”

The Wrong Panties Part 3

 

Callum bent at the waist involuntarily once more, this time dropping the phone he had been using for directions onto the moving walkway and giving any passersby an unobstructed view of his ass. He had experienced little control of his actions since donning those cursed white panties almost twelve hours earlier, but this was something else entirely. He had cut through the college buildings to make use of the moving walkways – anything to minimise the amount of walking he had to do, anything to minimise the amount of friction... Yet, he still felt like the buttplug was splitting him in half.

Callum hadn't confronted the sorority about the pills, of course. The panties would never allow him such a spine, though he had returned to the house and meekly dropped the drugs at Cynthia's feet. She had simply sighed, a resigned look on her face that said they were going to have to do things the hard way. She called two of the other girls, who led him to a large bathroom. When Cynthia returned, she parted his painted lips and forced a cold metal object into his mouth..

“I would leave it in there a few minutes...” Cynthia advised. “You won't want it to be cold. Not where it is going next.” She paused before adding. “...or dry.” Callum caught a sidewards glance at himself in the bathroom and saw what looked like a jewel protruding from between his lips. It took a moment for him to realise what it was and then his eyes went wide with panic – yet the Prison Panties held him in place, obediently awaiting his next ordeal. When Cynthia finally removed the large buttplug from his mouth, she unscrewed the bud from the stalk to reveal a hollow interior. Winking, she pushed the pack of pills inside before reassembling the sex-toy. Her comrades held Callum's arms tightly as the panties were pulled down just enough to expose its destination but not enough to lessen their hold over him. Cynthia mimicked a ball player winding up a pitch and slowly but firmly pressed the plug into Callum's waiting asshole...

'I'm a drug mule...' Callum thought miserably as he reached the top of the moving staircase. 'I'm a drug mule with six-inch heels strapped to my feet in a summer dress, my second dress of the day not counting the ones the sorority had me try on in the house, that doesn't even the cover the women's panties I am wearing that just happen to have me under some kind of chemically induced voodoo. Oh, and I am pregnant with a screwtop buttplug full of pills...' He arrived at the top and almost fell flat on his face. He couldn't breathe. It was as if the toy was squeezing the rest of his organs up into his lungs. He forced himself upright with a grunt and his asscheeks clenched even harder.

“You!” An authoritative voice called to him through the haze. “You're from Alpha-Phi-Omega, aren't you? Don't lie to me, Girly!” Callum raised his head to see a man in a campus security uniform striding towards him. “I know your sorority's racket and I know you know there's a toll.” The man paused and glanced around and Callum could tell he was looking for somewhere quiet they could go/ “It's the kind of toll you pay on your knees!” Callum wanted to scream – wanted to run, but the panties were already making him obey...

The Wrong Panties Part 2

 

Cynthia woke the rest of the sorority to introduce her prisoner. The girls quickly wiped sleep from their eyes when they saw her trophy all trussed up in black nylon and displaying an unnatural level of sycophancy. 'A guy?' 'In the pledge panties?' They repeated in wonder – mischievous ideas running through each of their heads at a mile a minute. Callum could only meet their stares for a millisecond at a time but it was long enough to know he didn't like what he saw. They were excited beyond belief to put him through who knew what kinds of trials, and as long as these freaking panties were wrapped around his ass and clutching his balls, he was completely helpless to resist even a bit. He may as well have been their puppet.

“She is going to fulfil the pledge!” Cynthia announced to the gasps of excitement of her sisters. “And, as you know, that's no easy task – not even for the hottest pledge. It's now 2am. I'd say we have ten hours to turn this wannabe sweetheart here into the hottest bitch on campus!”

That's when Callum truly became their puppet. Each sister seemed to have their own idea for turning him into the perfect girl and so he spent the rest of night being dressed and undressed in outfit after outfit. He wore cheerleader uniforms, he wore party dresses, he wore ballet leotards, he wore corsets, stockings, plaid skirts – the only constant was the white panties keeping him nice and compliant the whole time. After some time, he realised they were doing more than that – even though he was effectively their doll, a dozen hot college girls dressing and undressing him should have got a reaction out of him, yet his cock just hung there, as shrivelled and limp as he felt. The sorority eventually split into teams. One group of girls continued to work on his outfit but others began to apply gels and waxing strips to remove his hair, followed by lotions and perfumes – massaging femininity deep into his skin. More girls worked on his makeup and threaded extensions into his hair and then primping and curling until it was impossible to tell where they started and his natural hair ended. Finally, they came together to settle on a pretty polka dot summer dress with built in petticoats that made Callum feel like a girl from an old story book. He was ready for the pledge.

Once he understood what he was supposed to do, it became much clearer why the sorority wanted to make sure he could pass as one of them. He was to visit every frat house of campus and hook up with their leader, reporting back to the sorority house after each one to give the girls his feedback. Callum was mortified. He couldn't do it, and yet, he couldn't not do it. In a battle of wills, he was no match for the panties, and with no resistance, he felt himself tottering to the first house on four inch heels. The fraternities were clearly aware of the pledge and the whole house came out to watch their brother take Callum in his arms and lean over him to force a tongue inside his mouth. Callum even felt a hand slip into his padded bra. It was that grope that stuck with Callum as he clumsily simpered back to the sorority and then onto the next fraternity. How hadn't the guy figured him out? The girls had performed a skilled transformation but they weren't miracle workers. As he continued towards the next house, he slipped his hand into his own bra, curious to feel what his hookup had felt. He drew back his arm in shock, a small pack of pills clutched between his fingers. The penny dropped. He wasn't a pledge, he gasped to himself – he was a drug mule.

The Wrong Panties Part 1

 

“Of all the panties in all the world, you had to step into mine!” The girl smirked unsympathetically as Callum averted his gaze. The floor was still littered with the contents of the underwear drawer he had raided – colorful slithers of silk and spandex, alternative treasures he could have plundered. If only I had chosen one of those pairs, he thought miserably, I probably would have avoided this mess. “You probably don't remember those.” The girl continued. “They were called Prison Panties. A company called Smart Fabric released them a few years ago. They were designed to release hormones into the wearer to make them compliant and submissive. There was a full product recall when people starting using them to get people to commit crimes. Of course, we kept a few pairs around to have fun with our pledges. I never dreamed I would ever get the chance to use them on a boy...”

Callum cursed his luck. He had truly threaded the needle of misfortune. The girl hadn't introduced herself, she had other priorities from the second she laid eyes on him, but he knew who she was. She was Cynthia, leader of the Alpha-Phi-Omega sorority, and one of the baddest bitches on campus. She had also been his mission. As a college freshman and fraternity pledge, he had been tasked by his would be brothers to break into the sorority house and steal a pair of panties to hang like a victory flag from the frat house roof. His plan had started well, with summer arriving early, he had been able to slip through an open window and into the sleeping Cynthia's bedroom. He had even found her underwear drawer in the dark and selected a bright white pair of panties he knew would make an excellent trophy. That's when things started to go awry. On leaving Cynthia's room, he had got turned around in the corridor and to his horror, he heard the very girl he was here to steal from exiting her bedroom. Acting on impulse, Callum slipped through an open door to his left – the bathroom, realising too late that it was almost certainly where Cynthia was headed. If she caught him with the panties, the game was certainly up. He knew she would search his pockets and so he rapidly put them the one place he hoped she wouldn't look – on his body. The soft white engineered fabric started to take effect so quickly he never even got his jeans back on.

“You know you're not the first boy I have had in my bedroom,” Cynthia looked him up and down, “but you've definitely brought me the most pleasure.” Callum never did get his jeans back. He hadn't even had the chance to hope for them. From the second the white material had touched his skin, he had felt a change coming over him – a feeling like a crushing weight that broke any resistance in him. It was a ball and chain, holding him in place and filling him with weakness. He had been helpless to stop Cynthia putting him in his new clothes. He probably would have done it himself if she had asked. He had just sat there silently as she slid the nylons up his legs, squeezing him into the tight black hotpants that crushed his balls, meticulously painting his face with her makeup, applying the costume wig to his head.... When at last he again stood, it was to test his balance on the heeled boots Cynthia had tied to his feet. He wanted to beg forgiveness, but he couldn't do that so destroyed was his resolve. “You know?” She said. “You put on our pledge panties! You put them on willingly! I think that makes you a pledge, don't you?” Callum couldn't even bring himself to disagree.