Double double

 

'You're doing it because you're a little bitch!' Alex's sister's words echoed in his head as he sat in the crowded restaurant on a busy Valentine's Day evening watching the maitre'd guide his sister's boyfriend and her boyfriend's best friend towards the table. He sure felt like a little bitch right now. Isabel sat across from him grinning like a Cheshire cat. She knew she had done a great job transforming him into her sister – using his slight frame and delicate features against him to craft a pretty creature with high cheekbones, plucked arching eyebrows and plump red lips. What his body lacked in the breast department had been skilfully disguised with a satin dress that had a huge ruffled neckline stretching around his arms and chest and plunging down his back. The rest of the gown was short and rode high on his waxed legs and he needed to press his thighs together as Isabel had shown him to avoid flashing his panties, A thick bejewelled choker smartly hid his Adam's apple to ensure her boyfriend's buddy wouldn't suspect a thing – to ensure his date wouldn't suspect a thing. Alex sat up ramrod straight – rigid with nerves, feeling every bit the little bitch Isabel has told him he was.

“You're doing it because you're little bitch!!” Isabel had declared immediately after telling Alex her plan and listening to his weak protests. A week earlier, he had accidentally broken up her relationship with her boyfriend by sending her a prank Valentine's card. The boyfriend found it and suspected Isabel of running around behind his back, breaking off their tryst. Initially, she had demanded Alex come clean, however, she changed her mind when she realised what might happen to her waifish brother at the hands of her bigger, stronger beau. So, she had begged, until eventually the boy had agreed to a Valentine's Day reunion on one condition – Isabel find a partner for his down bad friend, Instantly seeing the opportunity for revenge, she had agreed without hesitation.

Alex had begged until the last, dragging his (high) heels right up to the threshold of their front door. But ultimately, as much as he didn't want to strut around in a mini-dress, he didn't want to get beaten to a pulp even more so. And so, he had gone along with the double date, saying little and smiling sweetly as Isabel and her boyfriend fondled one another beneath the table. The boy he had been paired with didn't seem like a bad guy – he was chivalrous even, opening Alex's napkin and handing him his menu, but he was a guy all the same, and so was Alex. His stomach was so cramped with nerves that he couldn't imagine eating, so when Isabel told the boys they were going to freshen up, relief washed over him. There was still the dilemma of using the women's bathroom but even five minutes away from the table and the boys' leering eyes was something.

“Where do you think you're going?” Isabel chastised him as he started to follow her into the restroom – a cruel smile was etched across her face. “You're due in the men's room right about now. I promised your date a little entrée.” She drank in the horror in his expression. “I suppose I can always tell my boyfriend what you did... He seems pretty fond of me again.” She watched her brother's head drop as he turned slowly towards the other bathroom. “That's a good little bitch!” She patted his rump in the tight dress, pert from walking in the heels. “Bon appetite!”

Hot House Part 4

 23/25

Despite his sissy maid experience being the harbinger of what was to come, Jared left the house relatively shortly after Emi had led her inglorious takeover of his and his male housemates' manhoods. It had only taken a few jolts to his scrotum, a few unsolicited spankings, a few impromptu outfit changes to convince him to cut his losses and beg the the Hot House producers to let him leave. The final straw had been one evening where Emi and one of the other girls had dressed him and Robbie in cheerleader outfits and forced them to make out with each other while the rest of the girls, and millions at home, watched on in glee. The other boys tongue had slid between his plumped glossy lips just as the cages wrapped tightly around their groins buzzed in unison.

Jared had begged for the return of his socials but what could he do? He had signed a contract and legally he didn't have a leg to stand on. The producers laughed in his still cosmetic caked face and had security remove him from the studio with his only source of income in their possession. He had tried to put it behind him but what does a 22-year-old motocross influencer do for money once you take away his social media accounts. Every time he attempted to play it straight he was thwarted by the fact he was now world famous for being a simpering sissy that made out with other sissies while having his cock lit up like a Roman Candle. Hot House was a global sensation and Jared was collateral damage.

Within two months Jared was on the verge of homelessness and Hot House was still reaching peak levels of popularity. He tried one last time to beg for the return of his social media accounts and when the producers refused, he requested to be let back into the house. To his surprise the show runners responded with a counter offer.

The other housemates had been amazed to see Jared return to the Hot House, and they were amazed further still when they saw the saw the price he had paid for it – two huge new breasts that bounced buoyantly on his chest. The girls were quick to put them to use, rubbing oiled up dildos, the latest of Emi's introductions between them, before pushing them into Jared's new collagen filled lips. He became an instant favourite for when the girls selected their toy for the night and trades were frequently made to gain his company. There were now six sissified boys shared between four female housemates and two, sometimes three, of his fellow sissies were exchanged for his nightly services. The biggest effect of his return, however, was on the other boys. Now they were truly broken. For, if Jared was willing to get tits to get back into the house, what chance did they ever have of getting out? They now knew that they were residents of this feminised hell house for the long haul. They were pathetic human sex-toys being played with by a gang of horny girls in the shop window of the world...and there was nothing they could do about it.

The Rebound Part 3

The staff at BabeKraft called them 'blastovers'. It was when one of their girls had undergone a particularly extreme transformation, usually with huge fake tits, or prominent tattoos and the only way to cover them up and meet another customer's preferences was to designate them to equally extreme sets of specs that could hide the old persona. Of course, BabeKraft's usually girls got paid extra for these jobs, but not Tony. The team of engineers were adamant that even though it was his final date, the body that had been given him as part of his night at the BDSM club was not something that could be covered over with a girl of modest appearance. As they were explaining this, his inner voice was screaming once more “So this is permanent?! What have you fuckers done to me?!”

And yet, as he entered the home they had sent him to for his final date, he felt an enormous sense of relief. It was nearly over. It was almost done and he would be able to move on with his life – no more Emma, no more BabeKraft, no more being a bimbo escort or vengeful-ex's plaything.

For this date, his tits and ass had been inflated to bursting point and wrapped in a tiny gold bikini. His previously raven hair had been once again bleached and the tattoos and been extensively and painfully reworked. Once the machine had finished on his appearance, it had applied a sheen of what Tony suspected was baby oil that introduced a gleam to his cartoonish voluptuousness and added the sensation that he was slithering everywhere. That's exactly how he felt as he entered the bedroom of his date's home and saw an enormous man sitting on the end of the bed...with Emma knelt behind him, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

Tony felt a new kind of tightness in his chest. So, this is what she had meant by 'new experiences'? Threesomes with a man mountain and his custom-built design-an-escort? In spite of his ridiculous bimbo caricature of an appearance, he must have been exactly what they ordered as they both smiled hungrily as he entered the room. The man rubbed his hands together and Emma licked her lips as Tony experienced betrayal, fear and a sense of the inevitable all in one incredibly bitter pill.

“Bring her over here!” Emma ordered her partner. “I want first!” The man rose and grabbed Tony by the arm, pulling him down to his knees where Emma now sat on the edge of the bed, her jeans kicked off on the floor. She leaned over and held him by the hair. Surely she would recognise him! His body had been changed beyond belief but his eyes were still the same – eyes that she had gazed into countless times. She stared long and hard – her pupils narrowing inquisitively...until finally a mean smirk cracked her beautiful face and she leant back on to the bed, forcing Tony's face deep into her crotch. He felt the conditioning start to take over as she pulled him deeper and he pushed his pierced tongue between his fat lips to taste her sopping sex. Emma groaned loudly just as Tony was contemplating how his life had hit rock bottom. She tugged him tighter so that he was practically breathing her, just as her date started to unfasten his gold bikini bottoms to expose his machine installed prosthetic pussy and ass. A firm hand pushed his legs apart and something dribbled down his inner thigh while Emma screamed in ecstasy. “I think...” the man chuckled and spanked Tony hard across his round ass, “...that we're going to have to get BabeKraft to lend us this one on the regular!”

 

The Rebound Part 2

Tony had always considered himself a one-woman man. He had been unendingly loyal to Emma and considered her the love of his life – even at the end when the writing had been on the wall and her wandering eye had sought out new experiences. Tony wasn't sure what he was now but he wasn't one-woman anything. Since that first date, he had been in that room three more times as the team at BabeKraft redesigned and reshaped him again and again to meet the requests of new customers. The robotic arms had punctured his skin, inflating his body where it had once been flat, rounding curves that had once been angular, and moulding new prosthetic parts to his face...his hips...his chest...his groin. Tony had protested, of course, screaming and yelling over and over, “This isn't permanent, is it?” as the room's engineers watched from a viewing window while the robot arms sculpted him.

The behavioural changes were even worse. He wasn't sure how it worked. Some kind of hypnotic conditioning made more effective by drugs injected into him in the room, perhaps, but he sure as hell felt the effects of them. The first time hadn't been too bad – he had just felt really timid and blushed a lot, but the second date had turned him into some kind of queen bitch – rendering him helpless to stop yelling insults at the guy and smacking him across the ass. Tony would have felt sorry for the man if he didn't know it was exactly what he had ordered. Still, at least he had managed to avoid having sex with any of them yet.

On the fifth date, that was all about to change. Tony leaned weakly on the partition between the two rooms of the BDSM club. The place was as grand as a mansion with crystal chandeliers though everything had been dressed with black latex and vinyl. BabeKraft had made him into a buxom raven-haired beauty covered in tattoos. The 'is this permanent' alarm bells had rang extra shrilly as the robot arms scoured his body with needles. He had wanted to fight back and run for his life - at least he had until the conditioning started to take hold. He felt his resistance melting away as wilful submission washed through his new body.

“You look exactly like my bitch ex-girlfriend,” his date had declared cruelly as he fixed the leash around Tony's throat. “She never let me do anything like this though.” The man coolly appraised Tony trussed up in leather straps. The irony was not lost on Tony. He had signed up to BabeKraft to recreate Emma, and some woman, or at least he had assumed a woman, had been rebuilt to his desire, and now here he was transformed into another man's mean-spirited revenge fantasy about to be dragged into a sex club. To top it all off, his body was telling him he wanted it. Every tug of the leash, every slap across the ass made him horny in a way he had never felt as a man. “I'm going to fuck you in the middle of that room!” His date pointed at a huge double bed covered in couples in various stages of fornication. “And then...” he squeezed Tony's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, pushing his plumped up lips into an exaggerated pout, “I'm going to watch as everyone else here has a turn!”

 

The Rebound Part 1

 

Tony stood rigid in front of the glass balcony wall that overlooked the luxury resort below. He was trying to appear relaxed, as if he were casually admiring the view of lagoons and palm trees, but inside his heart was jackhammering as he held one wary eye over his shoulder at the bustling bar, trying to spot his date. Casual? Ha, that was a joke! Looking like this? There was nothing casual about the shimmering white dress that hugged his artificially rendered curves, nor the cosmetically enhanced face his wore masking its own features. And yet, that was only one part of his predicament. The stiletto heels he stood in...the synthetic bleach blonde locks fused into his scalp...even his painfully cinched waist...they were just the props. The true dilemma was the role he was being forced to play.

Emma had broken up with Tony three weeks earlier. It was not an unexpected end to their relationship, yet Tony had taken it incredibly badly. Emma had wanted to date other people and so that was that. Tony's friends had insisted he date other people too. However, Tony didn't want to date other people. He wanted Emma. He had scoured dating apps for women with even half the appeal she had for him and found nothing. He had been about to give up when he came across a new app – one that claimed to be different from the rest and give guys exactly what they wanted – BabeKraft.

BabeKraft promised each of its members their perfect girl. Not by chance mind you – there was no wishing upon a lucky star for the woman of your dreams. On the contrary, BabeKraft invited its members to use its design features to customise exactly what they were looking for in a kind of online studio. They could choose an appearance down to the most minute detail and even request specific behaviours. Tony, of course, signed up and spent hours trying to recreate Emma. Only, when he was finally happy with his efforts and set up the date, the woman that met him just wasn't quite right. Sure, she looked like Emma, and even acted a bit like Emma...but she wasn't Emma. So, Tony tried again...and again...and again... When, at the end of the week, his bill came, he realised in horror that he had spent over seven thousand dollars on the app trying to recreate his ex-girlfriend.

BabeKraft hadn't taken his inability to pay his debts lightly, but they had invited him to their offices to discuss a compromise. The compromise in question had been to work for them. Tony only realised in what capacity once it was far too late. With a contract signed, he had been taken to room full of screens and odd looking medical devices with robotic arms. The walk-in-closet from hell had held him in place as it reshaped and redressed him into an exact replica of a beautiful young woman displayed on a screen along one wall. Only then did Tony understand how BabeKraft met their members' specifications quite so precisely.

The memory of that room haunted Tony as he waited for his date. He had been crafted into the girl of some guy's dreams by some AI robotic monstrosity and now he was...what? An escort? Repaying his debt with this new body of his... If only this one date would be enough... The team at BabeKraft had explained it would take at least six to repay what he owed...

A Date with Destiny Part 3

Julian's heels clacked on the wooden floor of the outer-office of Destiny Engineering to where the full length mirror hung of the wall. The area was where clients and investors were greeted and would wait before being led in to meet with Marcus and the mirror was the frequent recipient of practice pitches and tie-straightening...and now where Julian checked and reapplied his makeup fifteen times a day. He hated the mirror. It was a constant reminder of how he had fallen. Yet, even though he could see his reflection in it from his seat behind the mahogany desk it the reception office, it never ceased to draw him closer like a moth to a flame.

Julian stared into the mirror disbelievingly as he always did, and, as always, a prisoner stared back. His work wear was more professional and less revealing than what he had chosen for his first date with Marcus, but humiliating all the same. A stiff pencil skirt hugged his hips revealing just a hint of a pantyline and the fitted blouse was so uncanny in its similarity to the pressed white shirts he was used to that in its own way it was more feminising that the seamed stockings that encased his legs. As he stood there, the familiar doubt crept in. Could he really continue to pass as a woman? Surely, by parading himself publicly like this, he was asking to get caught and be carted off to jail... Using both hands, he pulled his long blonde into a bun above his head, revealing the shape of his face and the full extent of how the hormones had altered his appearance. He shuddered. This wasn't second thoughts – that had happened immediately after he had told Elena about Marcus's offer. That had been when she had laid out in detail the consequences of what would happen if he didn't take the job. No, his regret could be comfortably counted in the triple figures by now.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A gruff voice with a whiff of an accent sounded behind him. He whirled around to see a small academic-looking man standing in front of his desk. “Is this you?” The man pointed at the nameplate. 'JULIA'. “I'm here for my 10 o'clock with Mr. Grant. He should be expecting me.”

“Ah, Michael!” Marcus entered the room from his private office before Julian could react. “I see you've met Julia, my latest secretary!” The million dollar grin was back as the CEO of Destiny Engineering held out a hand. Julian forced a polite smile and a gave a small feminine nod. As ridiculous as it seemed, he felt betrayed by Marcus. Sure, Julian was the one acting, presenting himself to the world as someone who didn't exist. But so was Marcus – on their date he had felt like he was being hired because Marcus looked at him and saw...something. And now, the walls were back up, and he felt used. “Believe it or not,” Marcus winked at him before turning to their guest. “Julia was actually my Valentine's date...and now she's the eye candy for my company. I guess Destiny really is the right name for it!”  

 

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?”