A Date with Destiny Part 2

 

“Hey, I could have sworn I reserved a table... But, a girl who sits at the bar is a girl after my own heart!” A shiver shot up Julian's spine. In twenty minutes of sitting on the stool, his long nylon clad legs folded one over the other, he had kept his head down pretending to read the menu. No-one had spoken to him...no-one had even looked at him, as far as he knew... And now his date was here. Staring at him. Talking to him. Julian felt the little black dress squeeze him, His makeup suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. He gulped softly and his glossy pink bottom lip dropped open. “I am Marcus!” The man grinned. He was slim and expensively dressed and held out a hand for Julian to shake. However, when he reached out to accept the greeting, the man smoothly slid him into a tight hug before kissing Julian on the cheek. “Let me get you a drink!” His date demanded, one hand still resting on Julian's bare back.

“Erm... maybe some wine,” Julian replied softly and shrugged Marcus off. If the man noticed, he didn't show it and his beaming smile remained in place. “Red...please...” He watched the man snap his fingers at the barmaid and produce an American Express card in the other hand. It was clear he wanted Julian to see it and he got a flash of deja-vu. It was exactly the kind of trick Julian himself would have used to impress a woman in a bar...back when he wasn't yet a woman.

“But, of course,” Marcus winked and ordered an expensive bottle with two glasses. After instructing a waiter to bring it to a table in the restaurant window, he held out Julian's chair for him sit and once again draped a hand across his exposed shoulders for just a little too long. “I usually hate Valentine's Day, you know? I think its corny crap. But this one... I don't know... I have a good feeling about it... I have a good feeling about you.” Julian's skins crawled but he felt himself blush all the same. Was this guy really so smitten with him? Or had he just played the game so many times it was like a reflex, regardless of what the girl looked like. Marcus placed his iPhone and a Porsche keyfob down on the table and proceeded to ask him question after question about himself...or rather about Julia, interjecting with factoids here and there that were clearly designed to impress. Julian attempted to act demurely and stick to half-truths – he was living with his sister, he really needed a job but was not sure what he was looking for, he was single...why did he say that...? Marcus, it turned out, was also single, and the CEO and founder of a tech startup called Destiny Engineering. Julian was surprised to find that the more Marcus spoke, the more the slick facade he had put up seemed to slip away. He stopped trying to impress and stared at Julian intently as he spoke about needing a job to pay for his share of Elena's rent. Was this guy really falling for him? He struggled to believe he was actually passing as Julia, let alone melting the game of a rich guy in a bar. “Hey, you should come work for me!” Marcus blurted out suddenly. “Don't worry about an interview, or a resume, or any of that crap. You can work for me personally...be my PA.”

“Work for you?” Julian repeated dumbly. His heart was thudding again, and now he was sweating – perspiration trickling down his back and into the satin of his panties. His head sloshed with the wine and he felt an odd mix of triumph and terror. Elena had made it very clear. It was get a job, or go to jail. But, work for this guy? Who against all the odds seemed to fancy him... What if he tried to pull a move on him? But what choice did he have? “Sure...,” Julian stammered, “when do I start?”

A Date with Destiny Part 1

“Are you really certain all this is necessary?” Julian regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Not just because he already knew the answer, but because of the gentle feminine inflection that shaped them. His soft tone had become warm and natural. The initial soreness from the injections to his vocal chords had faded and all that remained was the singsong chirp of a young woman. Julian hated it with a passion.

“Asked and answered, dear brother,” Elena replied shaking her head. “That's the kind of thing you lawyer types say, isn't it? At least it was before you were disgraced and disbarred.” She took a step back to appraise his outfit. She had insisted he be the one to complete his transformation today. That had included choosing at outfit, dressing himself, and of course all the primping that went with it. She had watched on like a proud mother hen as he had shaved and waxed and spent ninety minutes doing his own makeup. Sure he whined and dragged his heels the whole way, but that only added to her enjoyment, and now that he was almost ready, she could fully appreciate the ways in which the hormone supplements helped him fill out the dress, and how now his hair had fully grown out, he could achieve the look of a glamorous blonde without the need of a wig.

“I mean, why can't I just hide out here? As myself?” God, he hated how alien his voice sounded. He tried to add some coarseness but it just ended up coming out smoky and sexy. “No-one is going to look for me here!” He gestured to himself and realised for the first time how short his dress was. Blushing, he took the hem in his fists and tried to tug it down – only succeeding in forming a prissy pout.

“And then what?” Elena yawned. “You sponge off me forever? You realise you owe me right? Without me you would be in jail. You should be in jail. And you know what else? Your stupid law firm that you embezzled funds from – has my last name on it too. I am training to be a legal aide and you just made me unemployable. Maybe I should hand you in... Remove all doubt I was complicit somehow!”

“Sis...” Julian cooed, suddenly playing his role with a lot more enthusiasm. He smoothed his dress with his palms and flicked his hair behind one shoulder. It crushed him to do so but not as much as the prospect of staring down 46 counts of fraud. “But how can I possibly pay you back looking like this? No-one is going to believe I am a woman. I know you are getting a kick out of the punchline, but you've still turned me into a joke!”

“That's where you are wrong, dear brother,” Elena smiled. “You may not believe this now, but I have turned you into something extraordinary. Today, after all, is Valentine's Day and I have lined you up with a hot date. I am going to show you just how beautiful you are now, and if you can impress a horny guy in a bar, an interview panel isn't going to stand a chance...”

 

Hot House Part 3

 22/25

As the previous years' winner, Chris was secretly invited to be a surprise new housemate who would enter the Hot House six weeks into the new season. Of course, when he agreed and penned the contract to once again hand over his now lucrative social media accounts to the show runners in order to once again enter the house, he did so months before Emi led the now infamous sissy revolution. Within hours of the boys waking up with their cocks in electrified chastity cages, Chris's agent was calling the show attempting to get his inclusion reversed. But what could he do? A deal was a deal and if he wanted to keep his socials, he would need to fulfil his contract.

That's how Chris found himself in the house's welcome pod – an area that resembled a decompression chamber in a submarine. Chris had entered the pod from one side and the door had slid shut behind him. The next time the pod opened, he would be the newest guest on the Hot House.

Being on the outside for the first six-weeks, he knew several things that the other housemates did not. He knew that for the first two weeks the show had been on its knees. Dull guys and girls did not make for compelling television and the viewers were turning off in droves. It was only when Emi put Jared in a maid's uniform she had for some reason brought with her into the house that their was a spike in viewership. And so when Emi came to the interview room that evening and asked for the chastity cages, the producers were falling over themselves to provide. What the viewers also didn't know was that from that moment, the producers were giving Emi whatever Emi requested in the name of driving up ratings. They had already smuggled in numerous sex toys that the girls were just biding their time to put to use – and the house food was now being pumped with hormones to further feminise the unsuspecting boys. Jared had had the right idea when he elected to leave the house after 3 weeks of sissydom. That left one spare chastity cage, and as the door to the house started to slide open he prayed it wouldn't be used on him. Surely a former winner had earned more respect.

A week had passed and Chris could only shudder at his naivety of thinking he might be spared. Satin hugged his body and extensions tugged at his hair and most tellingly the charge of his cage thrummed in his lacy panties alongside a matching buttplug – the most recent introduction from Emi, Hot House's resident dom. The girls has swarmed him the second the door opened – strong hands holding him down as his male clothing was torn to shreds. The other boys had just watched on meekly – if they were sympathetic to his powerlessness they didn't show it. None of the boys spoke now. They were completely broken. They just tottered around the house on their high heels hoping that one of the girls wouldn't grab them to try out a new look or give them a random spanking. They were just waiting and hoping that their followers would fall below the threshold to allow their escape. Chris couldn't bring himself to tell them that their subscribers had soared 500% since Emi's revolution.

Whatever Happened to Martin? (Work Release)

 This will be my last Flashback Friday for a few weeks until i am caught on my commission backlog. It is for Work Release

Good Morning, you're through to UltraReal Bodysuits Customer Care, my name is Felicity. How can I help you today?

Oh, God. I don't believe it. I'm through. I actually did it... All these years of playing the good little employee have actually paid off. It will all be worth it.

Slow down, Speedie, how can I help you today?

Yes, well, my name is Martin, and you probably don't remember me but I am calling from Bedfellows Escorts and I would like to report a gross misuse of your bodysuits.

I am sorry sir, but I can only speak with the named person on that corporate account and that is...

Sam Sparrows! I know! That evil bitch has been keeping us as her whores for years!

Excuse me?

She hired a bunch of your suits to put the guys at our company through supposed sensitivity training, but it was all a ruse!

A ruse?

Yes, there was no training. Not in sensitivity anyway. She turned us into the company's newest escorts. And the bodysuits...oh God...they made us want it!

Ah, yes, the Ladies of the Night range! They are some of our finest...

Don't you think I know? The extra libido alone has made me do things that will never wash off. But no more. Over the past couple of years I have been sucking up to Sam Sparrows and as of yesterday I am her new personal assistant...with full access to the company accounts and records.

I really am sorry sir, but I can only speak with Ms. Sparrows herself.

Would it help if I had the account number? I'm at the bitch's desk right now.

Well, yes...but...

It's 67983538X

Okay...I am pulling it up now...oh wow!

Yes, 'oh wow'. I am sure now you can see the scale of what that perverted bitch has been doing. There are hundreds of us. All humiliating ourselves for her profit. Even now that I am behind a desk again, she still treats me like a slut. You have to release us from the suits and call the police right now!

No, I mean 'oh wow' as in this account is worth 26 million a year. That's one of our biggest. My stock options... This would decimate them...

What?!

Sir, I think this connection is breaking up.

But, I can hear you just fine.

No, it's....def....break...up...bad...tion

Ms? Ms? Felicity, wasn't it? Are you still there? Please help us!!

I, Maidbot Part 4

 

Immobilisation gives one a lot of time to think, and boy, did Robbie think. In the dark of the back of the truck surrounded by the other defective AutoMaids, as he was wheeled into the warehouse and inventoried by some dweeb with a mullet, and as he was plugged into a laptop via the same port he loaded in all his fantasy scripts two days earlier in his garage. In his infinite stillness, he worried about what would happen to his consciousness if his new maid body was sent for scrap, he pondered whether Bot-Robbie would make a better husband than he had, or if he too would reach his tolerance of Marie and come up with some hair brained scheme to replace her. Was there any of the real-Robbie person still in the real-Robbie body? He considered what he would do if he was placed with another customer and expected to clean house. Could they load software that would make him do that? But most of all, he thought about sex. His body was still but his robotic loins were restless. He needed relief from the inhuman cravings that were consuming his paralysed form. He didn't care if he stayed an AutoMaid forever – he just needed a release.

“This one is totally fucked!!” The technician at the laptop shook his head to no-one in particular. “Operating system is completely gone and there is so much rogue code in there I don't even know where to start unpicking it.”

“Hmmm...” A colleague joined him and pondered what was on the screen. “Looks like a lot of sex scripts and kink programming. My guess is there was a mix up at the factory. We got a sex-doll and some poor sap with a hard-on for droid-women got a bot more interested in turning up his bedsheets than taking a tumble in them. Let's ship this one back to the factory. They'll know where it needs to go...”

And that's how, two weeks later, Robbie found himself being sold for a cut price as a refurbished sex-doll. It didn't matter how much he tried to explain the mix-up, his new owner didn't even speak English. Robbie didn't even know what country he was in – he just knew that he had spent a long time immobilised inside a crate. His new owner, a grubby fat man, was not phased by his new toy's protests. For the deal he got, he was more than happy to use the immobiliser to good effect whenever it got annoying. Having been resold as an “AutoCompanion”, Robbie has introduced to a wardrobe that extended far beyond the French Maid outfit he had barely got used to. He was dressed in a selection of fetish and fantasy outfits including as a cheerleader and a female gimp and positioned as a risqué piece of furniture during the day, but at night the man preferred to strip him down to a pair of crotchless panties and heels and position him on the bed ready to be fucked. It was only then would Robbie be unfrozen. Primed and ready to be screwed silly with his ass propped up on a pillow, he knew now was his chance – to run, to escape, to somehow get home and expose Bot-Robbie as the imposter he was. But, oh...fuck!! He needed that release...

I, Maidbot Part 3

Being terrified and hornier that he had ever been in his life was a bizarre experience. The AutoMaid company sent a truck to collect him immediately after Marie screamed down the phone for ten minutes at a helpless customer service agent while Bot-Robbie soothingly rubbed her shoulders and shook his head in exaggerated dismay. Robbie knew he should run – there was no way being carted back to the AutoMaid factory could lead to anything good – but before he could, he saw Bot-Robbie handing Marie the immobilizer that had been with the kit in the garage and suddenly he was frozen in place.

His consciousness remained, hence the terror/sex-cravings cocktail, yet he could not movea single piston to run, protest his predicament or simply relieve the warm itch that had spread across his entire body. He just stood there frozen as Bot-Robbie brushed Marie's hair gently. The AutoMaid truck arrived along with the indignity of having one of their correctly functioning maid droids help package up his prone form for shipping while Bot-Robbie diligently supplied the driver with all the paperwork and accessories from the garage. The delivery maid tied his arms behind his back firmly as the driver explained it was to stop them flailing around during shipping, and this only drove Robbie more wild. The French maid before him was acting out one of the fantasies he had purchased the AutoMaid for and this one hadn't even been reprogrammed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and when they returned to staring straight ahead, the AutoMaid was glaring at him – her arms folded. Did she know? Could she somehow sense her colleague in front of her had been infiltrated.

Robbie thought he saw the hint of a smile. But, that was impossible wasn't it? And then the driver and maid were working together strapping him to a trolley and wheeling him from the house while Bot-Robbie held open doors for them.

“What will happen to it?” Marie asked thoughtfully, tentatively stroking Robbie's synthetic skin. Her simple touch sent lightning bolts through his body and he screamed silently. It seems a shame to just scrap it!”

“It depends...” The driver sighed. “The eggheads at the factory will run diagnostics on it and figure out what is wrong with it. Then it will either be dismantled for spare parts or resold as a refurbished unit. This one looks physically fine, so most likely they will refresh its compliance software and find it a new home. I am sorry it didn't work out for you.” He tipped his hat and started to push the tied Robbie towards the ramp into the back of the truck.

“Wait!” It was Bot-Robbie, one arm raised uttering the first words since they had switched consciousnesses. Robbie's heart soared as it strode purposefully towards the truck. “Don't forget this!” It produced a feather duster that had been left on the living room floor and tucked it into Robbie's apron. Then it stepped back and gave a quick salute. “Bon voyage!”     

 

I, Maidbot Part 2

 

Robbie had to think quickly on his feet – feet that were now perched on a pair of six-inch heels. Whilst wearing his own skin, he had promised Marie he would return the AutoMaid to the store, so now that his consciousness had somehow been transferred into the sexy robot, he needed to give her reason not to make good on that promise on his behalf – at least until he found some way of getting his mind in his own body. That meant that he had to fulfil the intended usefulness of the product he had purchased. Robbie had never cooked and cleaned before but now he was doing so like his life depended on it – because it probably did.

So, while Marie barked instructions at him like he was an imbecile, he plundered through his tasks. With every awkward movement, the satin of his uniform and the soft silk of his stocking swished against the artificial sensors that acted like nerve endings beneath his ultra-realistic but synthetic skin and an odd sensation began to grow inside him. He had already cursed himself for deleting the maid's abilities to perform chores as he fumbled awkwardly with the mop, but now he was being reminded of what he replaced them with? Was he becoming aroused? Was that even possible? His mind was flooded with a million different ideas for achieving climax – for helping others climax – hell, he was staring at his wife while she shouted at him for using the wrong fabric cleaner on the sofa and all he could think of was the perfect way to make her cum her brains out. Why couldn't he have had that knowledge five years ago? If he had, it would never have come to this... As much as he wanted to try anyway, he knew there was no way Marie would go for kinky lesbian sex with a robotic French maid who had just permanently stained her couch.

To make things worse, Robbie's body was back up and running too and had left the garage, presumably with the AutoMaid's version of a consciousness pulling the levers. Bot-Robbie didn't talk yet he operated himself with graceful precision, performing tasks such as making Marie a drink at exactly the right moment or placing a hand on her shoulder as she was becoming overwhelmed with rage at their pathetic new maid. Hours later, Robbie heard the unmistakeable squeak of mattress springs followed by cries of ecstasy from upstairs as Bot-Robbie ripped sounds out of his wife real-Robbie had never managed in years of marriage. He followed the exaltations to the bedroom to find Marie on her back with one of her shoes still on as Bot-Robbie jackhammered away at her like a man possessed – as in a way he was.

Robbie's arousal peaked despite the betrayal of seeing his wife cuckold him with his own sexbot cosplaying with his own body. He slipped a delicate feminine hand up under his apron as he continued to watch, seeking out the robotic pussy he had promised himself – albeit not like this. Finding it, he closed his eyes.

“Good fucking gracious!!” He heard Marie scream in fright. “How did that thing get in here?! Okay, that's enough. I am calling the company myself. It's going back right now!”