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.

Saving Grace Part 1 (Pink n Prissy Collective)

 8/25

This will be a three part story with the other two parts coming later in the season. It is a continuation of my Pink n Prissy Collective story, which is linked in full on my index page.

“All of us in the Pink n Prissy Collective have our style when it comes to making boys pretty.” Charlotte nodded sagely to Grace, who was still wearing an oversized hoodies and the expression of a frightened mouse. The recently liberated member of the group was having a hard time readjusting to the position of power that came with feminising guys and the other girls had agreed to take turns mentoring their friend. “Josie uses her physical power,” Charlotte continued, “she basically bullies boys into dresses. Terri is a tech wizard – I don't know how she does it, but if a gadget can humiliate a guy, she will find a way. And Cassie...she is devious and scheming. She is manipulative, psychological...but don't tell her I said that...”

Grace smiled timidly. “So, what does that make you? How do you dress up boys?”

“Me?!” Charlotte pressed her glossy pink lips together and stuck out her chest. “I use my charms!” She turned her attention to the figure that had just entered the loft space of the Pink n Prissy house, which Charlotte called her bedroom. The timid creature had smooth skin and heavy eye makeup and was dressed in a short white dress and strappy heels. It hesitated in the doorway before entering the room to make space for its partner, a taller but equally feminine creature wearing a daring black dress and hoop earrings, following behind. Both clutched matching purses awkwardly.

“So, are you going to show us your boobs now?” The first boy asked shyly. “You said you would if I brought a friend.” He beckoned to the blushing boy behind him and then to Grace. “Do we get to see hers too? We better. Putting all this stuff on was so humiliating. We had to get Jim's sister to help us with the makeup,” he nodded to his friend again. “The wigs are hers too.” The boys seemed to huddle together before them, holding their bags like pathetic defensive shields against their embarrassment.

“She sounds like someone I would like to meet!” Charlotte beamed and reached for the bottom of her vest top as if she was about to pull it up. “But...” she let her hands fall to her side, “I don't think you are ready just yet. All our boys have to say the pledge...but it can't just be for me and Grace. All the Collective must see it. That's why we need to go to the mall to get Cassie and then to the library to get Terri.” Both boys blanched at the idea of being paraded around such public places in their current state. Jim glanced at Charlotte and then Grace, his eyes wide, before evidently deciding that seeing two sets of boobs was not worth the inevitable humiliation and started to remove the hoop earrings. Charlotte shook her head sadly. “Fortunately, Josie is right here at home. She just won't be best pleased that a couple of cutie-pies like you two think you can spoil all Jim's sister's hard work without first the others meeting you...and you doing the pledge...and maybe a few pictures!”

Grace gave a small smile as both boys froze in horror and the heavy steps of Josie, the Collective's leader, echoed through the house as she ran up the loft stairs to meet their prey.

Whatever Happened to James? (New Orders)

 Not so much a power couple... 

This is a Flashback Friday for New Orders

James knew there would be crowds but this took the cake. The sight of all those people stopped his heart cold deep in his corseted chest. He knew Sophia wanted an audience – she had gleefully taken him through the guest list, painstakingly outlining how his friends and family would be in the front row to witness his ultimate humiliation. This was her presenting to the world who the man she was about to marry really was – in all its gaudy detail. This was his unveiling and she wanted as many people to see it as possible. But did she really have to invite the local press?

Sophia had planned their wedding to the minute detail and having discovered James's secret fetish and his secret account funding it, she had all the money she needed to get what she wanted and the leverage she needed to force James's compliance. Flowers...check, cake...check, designer wedding dress with matching bridal lingerie...for James...also check. He had thought she was joking at first. Sure, their home life had taken a dramatic turn since the day Sophia had discovered his secret Glamazon account, but up until then she had kept his humiliation domestic. The neighbours knew, of course – Sophia loved to parade him front of their bay window in whatever new ultra-feminine outfit she had picked out for him, but that what nothing compared to walking him down the aisle in front of literally everyone he knew wearing a thigh length dress barely long enough to conceal his white silk panties.

James knew he could have stopped it any time – walked away from Sophia and her iron grip of his genitals. Yet, as the date grew closer and more and more layers were poured over his upcoming debasement, he became increasingly sure he wouldn't. The dance lessons where a bemused instructor taught Sophia to lead him around the ballroom, breastforms arriving in the mail and Sophia practising brushing foundation over them so they would be indistinguishable from his body, scheduling of his hair and makeup for the morning of the big day. He should walk away, but he couldn't. Sophia had set out to torment him but even since discovering his secret, she had become his greatest nightmare and his wildest fantasy.

There were gasps as James appeared in the aisle, and deservedly so. He had seen his reflection – he was beautiful, every inch the blushing bride. Sophia had crafted him well and he glowed under his glossy blonde hair and immaculate makeup. Hundreds of eyes were on him as he inched forward in his patent leather heels. He could see his brother, his school-friends, each with their jaws hanging slack. He knew the confusion that was running through their minds – the cocktail of desire and derision. It was the same mixture he had experienced many times.

“My bride...” Sophia stated, but she wasn't talking to him. She was at the head of the aisle dressed in a stylish tuxedo talking to a stunned reporter holding a microphone. “I know she looks gorgeous now, but our wedding night is going to be something. Let's see if her face looks so perfect after I have spent some time grinding it between my ass!”