The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 4

 19/25

The full Network and Femnonymous story is listed on my index page.

A trail of dismantled cameras led the way through the brush to the jetty where they had originally arrived on the island. Martin had clearly done his homework and prepared accordingly, and Angela would have been impressed were she not absolutely set on foiling their escape plan. Every now and then, the beam of a highly powered flashlight would cut through the darkness near them and the remaining three producers would fall into a state of hushed stillness. Angela knew she could yell and wave her arms whenever she liked, and they would be found immediately, but she couldn't guarantee how that would play out next. What if Femnonymous just continued the contest after recapturing them? She couldn't risk both Martin and Celia knowing she had betrayed them. Surely as their mole, Femnonymous were rooting for her to win, but they wouldn't undermine their entire operation to protect her.

“Hurry up!” The naked form of Celia hissed noticing Angela studying the latest of the unhooked cameras a little too hard. Angela scowled – Celia giving her orders back in their old lives had been bad enough, and now on the island it was somehow even more grating. Martin, the eternal professional, put a finger to his lips and beckoned for both women to keep going. Angela fell in beside him as they continued through the dark jungle.

“So...” Angela tried to sound casual as if she weren't playing double agent as part of a daring night time escape from the island compound of gang of latex clad vigilantes systematically transforming them one-by-one into Barbie dolls with some kind of hi-tech dentist chair. “Got anyone waiting for you back home?”

“Actually, yes!” Martin's face seemed to brighten. “I think you two might know each other. She was a producer too when the Network just started getting big. She's a lot more senior now though.” Angela stared at him while he continued to talk, trying to keep her face neutral. “You do know Mandy, right?” Martin watched her expectantly and finally she nodded. Mandy had been close...close enough to stab her right in the back. And now here she was... Trapped on an island with her boyfriend.

“So, you and Mandy, huh?” Celia said a few minutes later along the trail. “How did that come about? She's senior management – not trying to sleep your way to the top, are you?” There was a clear barb in her voice but Martin didn't seem to notice and the two fell into a conversation about office politics and work relationships, not noticing that Angela had slowly started to fall back from the group. Once she was ten feet back she paused in the shadows next to yet another dismantled camera. It was about a foot from the ground and designed to get a low angle shot. From what Angela could see, it was fully intact – the power source had simply been disconnected. Checking that the others were still walking on ahead, she took the wire between her fingers and plugged it back into the main body of the device. A small LED screen booted up and began to display a percentage bar that crawled agonisingly slowly towards completion. Cursing her luck and not wanting to be left behind, Angela abandoned the camera and scurried after the other producers.

“We could use this!” Martin was standing over a small boat with an out-board motor floating off the side of a jetty. “But it doesn't seem to have fuel.” Celia was scowling with her hands on her hips. “Sorry, I know I should have checked before dragging you out here.” He said apologetically.

“Fuel?” Angela repeated dumbly, a cruel idea forming. She thought of Mandy watching from home as her boyfriend was dragged off to be bimbofied. God, she wished that golddigger was here with them,,, “Uh, I think I saw a canister of fuel back there!” She pointed back the way they had come – back towards the camera she had just switched back on. Moments later, Martin was bounding back up the trail. He stopped and began scanning the brush for the non-existent gasoline. Suddenly, he froze in place. He had just seen the blinking LED on the now functioning camera. Mere seconds passed before the night was pierced by several high-powered beams of light and about a dozen latex clad Amazons emerged from the trees. Two gripped Martin and forced his arms behind his back. Right before a kind of electrical riot stick was brought to his still naked body, his eyes locked with Angela's and a look of understanding passed between them. Angela smiled softly before she too was restrained.

The office was chaos around Martin. He had been here a month and he still didn't understand what work was being done. He didn't even know what language was being spoken. Whatever it was, it looked stressful and involved a lot of men sitting in cubicles shouting angrily down the phone. He only understood what the compliance chip told him. He was the relief girl – perfectly crafted by the throne to be exactly the kind of motivation the men needed to keep picking up those phones. Today he wasn't wearing a skirt, just as the chip had instructed, and his brand new bubble butt was parted by a tight black pair of satin panties. When they were particularly frustrated, the men would look up at his ass and lick their lips, or if he was facing the other way, his pussy. Whenever this happened, the chip would instruct him to respond with a coy flirtatious smile and he would comply. As the day progressed, he unfastened his blouse, one button at a time, to show them ever more of his tits. Eventually, he would be topless but that didn't need thinking about yet. The day was still young. Eventually, one of the men could whoop with glee at the end of particularly successful phone call and get to bend Martin over the desk while the others watched – a preview of what they could be rewarded with if they kept working hard. Eventually, Martin would moan with ecstasy as the same lucky worker thrust into him as the chip demanded he enjoy the experience. But, it was still early in the day... That would all come, as too would Martin, but for now he could just stand there in those uncomfortable heels and fantasize about what he would do to Angela if he ever saw her again...

Whatever Happened to the Babysitter? (The Last Time I Babysat)

 This Flashback Friday features the unnamed babysitter from my 3 part story "The Last Time I Babysat". You can find Part 1 here.

The air felt thick with baby powder and once again my diaper was clean and soft on my ass. No more red skin, no more painful chaffing – just blissful fragrant cushion. As always, I was stuck motionless on my back, the muscle relaxant having done its job, and I had all the time in the world to examine my predicament. I wished my legs hadn't been splayed akimbo. My right foot was up by my hip and that was going to get uncomfortable quick. The silk stockings, as soft as they were, would bite into my legs in this position and I might even lose feeling. What's more, the clumsy pose had caused my frilly nightgown to ride up and expose my diaper. No-one was here to see me but for some reason it added to my feeling of debasement. My arms lay helplessly either side of my head and I started to drool without my pacifier in place. Would my diaper leak with my legs spread like this? I dreaded how Daddy might react if I made a mess of my cot...

The fact that Christina and Rebecca no longer lived in the home they had left me tied up dressed as a baby had come as a hammer blow. But nothing could have prepared me for the revelation that had come next. Naturally, I had assumed I had been left in a family home, and that their imminent return to find me bound in my own filth would lead to the cops being called and ultimately my public humiliation as I was carted to the station in a dirty diaper and baby clothes. Except, none of that happened. Instead, the man I would come to know only as 'Daddy' came home.

Lying motionless on my back amongst an army of stuffed toys gave me a lot of time to think. The first thing that clicked was the size of the cot. It was far too big for an actual baby. The next penny to drop was the guy's seemingly endless collection of adult baby clothing and diapers, and ultimately I concluded that the girls had left me tied up in the home of some creep with an adult baby fetish. Seeing me bound and waiting for him when he came home must have felt like all his Christmas's come at once. Other details seemed far more sinister – like why did he have a supply of muscle relaxant on tap? And the biggy – why was he keeping me here?

Daddy takes care of me to the finest detail. I always have fresh clean clothes as soon as I mess myself, which happens more than I would like to admit – muscle relaxant isn't great for self control. He strokes my hair, even though it is a wig, while he feeds me my bottle and never forgets to burp me after. I often drool at this point and he is always ready to carefully fix my lip gloss.. He is weirdly talented with a makeup brush and this is another detail that sends shivers up my spine. And that's it. He is otherwise kind and tender. He will softly spank my butt if I mess too much but I think he knows it isn't my fault.

As I stare at the mobile circling my head, I wonder how I will get out of this. Daddy obviously has no plan to let me go. I have lost track of how long I have been here, and no-one knows where I am except Christina and Rebecca, and I doubt they have been looking out for me after what I did to them. They got their revenge – even if they have no idea just how much revenge they got.

The Assimilation Protocol Phase 4

 

By now you understand our plight. We are two of a dwindling inferior sex. Don't look at me like that. How can you read these files, how can you listen to what I have told you and think anything else? We are scientists – we must base our conclusions on the evidence presented to us. Phase 1 – the nymphoids conquered a man. Phase 2 – the nymphoids conquered men. Phase 3 – the nymphoids conquered all men. Implantation, transmission, assimilation.

The only reasons either of us continue to be male at all are the two foot thick concrete walls of this bunker. You know what I am saying is correct. We are helpless and yet I have found a way out of this for us. Here, take a look at this tablet – it is a live-feed. Indeed, it is one of them, a nymphoid in the flesh, subdued and restrained within a windowless room in this facility. It is an excellent specimen don't you think? The femininity, the sexuality...the shape of her ass! Perfection! Don't look at me like that! I might be a scientist, but I am a man first, and that is an ass I want to fuck. And it wants me too. Listen to this – the cell has microphones.

“Join me. Join us. We can give you everything you want...everything you need. We can satisfy you. We can give you euphoria. All we need is you to give yourself to us. Give yourself to us. Come on. Come fuck us!!”

No, I disagree with you. They aren't the enemy. They are the inevitability. They are better than us. We have made a mess of this world. Men have made a mess of this world and with their help we can make amends. Don't panic! It was just a little prick – a little muscle relaxant. You will be able to move just fine in a little while. Until then, I can carry you. Where are we going? Oh, I am sure you can work it out! We are going to visit our guest here. We are going to see if her ass tastes as good as it looks.

Now just sit there while I get this door open. Don't look so worried, it will all be over soon. I will even let you have the first turn screwing her. You've been down here nearly as long as I have – I know it has been a long time for you too. The second you feel a woman's skin against you again, you will wonder what you were so worried about. She's going to make it worth our while – she told me via the tablet. She is going to do things that will blow our minds and all we have to do in return is join her – join them. Okay, it's open, here goes. Time to join the better half of the species and live a life of endless fornication and lust – of endless euphoria. Up you get – we've got a date with destiny. Phase 1 – the nymphoids conquered a man. Phase 2 – the nymphoids conquered men. Phase 3 – the nymphoids conquered all men. Phase 4 – the nymphoids conquered us. Implantation, transmission, assimilation, submission...

The Assimilation Protocol Phase 3

 

The third phase is admittedly confusingly named 'Assimilation'. It describes the tipping point of the phenomenon from a curiosity to an existential threat. In the early days of the Assimilation there were many who didn't take it seriously. One politician posted a now infamous message on social media embracing the Assimilation as there was 'a nationwide shortage of hot women willing to 'put out'. That same politician was later observed being what I believe is known as 'double-penetrated' by two former members of his security detail on the White House lawn.

That's not to say there weren't genuine supporters of the nymphoids even after the threat was correctly measured. Many women, particularly lesbians, saw the eradication of masculinity as a positive thing. Some even helped transport nymphoid hosts to locations where they knew groups of men would be hiding. You may find it hard to believe, but many men also supported the nymphoids. They saw their spread as a potential remedy to many of the world's ills that they saw as predominantly the result of male power. Additionally, there were the fetishists that viewed the 'great' orgies filmed and uploaded to pornographic websites and wanted to be part of the so-called euphoria.

Many news media organisations depicted phase 3 as a kind of religious war – a battle of two resolute sides, the established order versus the zealots. Let us describe it as what it was – it was a hunt. The nymphoids driven by lust or virulence or whatever it was, hunted the men to the ends of the earth, stopping as nothing to assimilate them and grow their numbers further, the whole time fornicating and seducing with their whispers.

The final picture attached to the file is taken from a surveillance helicopter from above one of the final centers of resistance down south. Interestingly, this group of men actually chose an old monastery to hide out. A collective of women located them and transported a truck full of nymphoids to their location. Here you can see an unknown subject moments after transformation still kneeling in prayer...or mercy. I think this particular image captures the perfection of the female form sculpted by the nymphoids. It is biologically divine, don't you think? It is easy to focus on the helplessness, or the desperation of the subject, but as a scientist, I am drawn to the form. Whatever the nymphoids are is either something divinely powerful beyond our comprehension, or optimally evolved beyond our imaginations.

And, yet it was the women, the nymphoids allies who tracked the men's location that appeared to take the lead. The only other documented footage of this perfect specimen is in pictures and videos shared online by the female radical group. The subject is on his knees in those too, performing fellatio on nymphoid after nymphoid until their semen hardened on his face in the sun. You man hear the nymphoids in this footage too – taunting, laughing, encouraging, but that's not why the radicals shared it. You can hear the subject too – begging for mercy. Underneath the euphoria, and the lust, they are still in there. This is the footage that truly destroyed what was left of our morale – for it showed all of us who are left, our destinies...what awaits us all.

The Assimilation Protocol Phase 2

 

Euphoria – that's the right word for it. Who can resist euphoria? Not Devin Grady – nor any man since who has experienced the nymphoids. Mr. Grady wasted no time in seeking out his new derrière after hearing those voices and no sooner had he done so was what remained of him transformed. Not just a perfect female backside, but an entire woman of breathtaking beauty, guided by the whispers in her ear.

Phase 2 of the Assimilation Protocol would be known as Transmission. This is the phase that begot theories of the Assimilation being a virus. Not just transmission to Mr. Grady upon seeing his own rear, but anyone else who subsequently got to see it became subject of their own implantation. I should caution you here not to panic. Transmission cannot progress through a medium – you will not experience transmission merely looking at Mr. Grady's photograph, just as his colleagues watching through the webcam as he was first slumped over his office chair and then transformed. No, successful transmission requires a first hand viewing. Small difference that made to Anton Potter, Mr. Grady's line manager, who after seeing the whole situation unfold during the online meeting, hurried over to his colleague's house to check on him. Mr. Potter's transformation was also captured on the same meeting recording, as was the sexual encounter that followed between the freshly female versions of Mr. Grady and Mr. Potter – though I am advised that part is only available on pornographic websites for the sexually morbid of our species.

It was this display of sexual appetite, and others like it, that earned the Nymphoids their name. I have seen transcripts of the recorded intercourse between the two subjects and it is full of x-rated discourse clearly initiated by the nymphoids themselves. The word 'harder' is recorded as having been used 56 times in the space of 4 minutes. I should add here that the transformation of the two men was complete with one significant exception. Both subjects retained an admittedly shrunken version of their sexual organs. Theories have concluded that this was in aid of the nymphoids exploiting the masculine instinct of spreading ones seed to accelerate the transmission phase.

This is where another comparison to a virus arose. Once infiltrated by the nymphoids, the male hosts eagerly sought out other males to infect via exhibition of their female backsides. The second photo attached to this file is an infamous example of this. It depicts Don Kellogg, a bartender in Tennessee standing before his shelves of drinks displaying himself invitingly to the bar's patrons. The picture became so well known because the image of the irresistible rear of the subject besides the known addictive alcoholic drinks seemed somewhat allegorical. Security footage shows Mr. Kellogg going into a storeroom before returning 10 minutes later fully transformed. This still shows the moment he initiated implantation simultaneously into no less that 25 men. Woman who were present at the time describe how the bar descended into an all out orgy within moments. A Mrs. Bradley is quoted as saying - “One second I was toasting our anniversary with my husband, the next he was shoving his tiny cock into a shemale's ass while another spanked him with a bar towel and shouted 'fuck her harder, you whore!”

The Assimilation Protocol Phase 1

 

What would eventually be known as the Assimilation Protocol took hold of the earth's male population in four distinct phases. The source of the phenomenon is still not understood – the most prominent theories being that the personas that came to be called 'Nymphoids' were inter-dimensional beings, an alien culture, a virus that came from deep under the ocean, or even a synthetic bio-weapon that escaped from a Chinese laboratory. What is known is that the Nympoids were, and still are, unstoppable, inevitable, and...insatiable.

Those that have studied the Assimilation named the first phase 'Implantation' – often referred to colloquially as 'Assplantation'. It is characterised by the attachment of one of the nymphoids to the victim's backside with an immediate aftermath of the subject rapidly developing a perfectly sculpted, sexually speaking, feminine rear. This is perhaps an ideal time to mention that at the time of reporting there have been zero confirmed female victims of the Assimiliation.

The attached image is by now world famous and depicts Devin Grady, who is possibly the earliest known victim of the Assimilation – or 'patient zero' if you will. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for Mr. Grady, he was on a business call with work colleagues upon the moment of Implantation, and Mr. Grady's webcam, along with the recording of the Zoom call, allowed for flawless documentation of the entire episode. In one moment, the victim is talking about projected sales figures, and in the next he is leaping from his seat as if the subject of an enormous electric shock – so violently in fact that he ended up folded over the very office chair he had been sat in just seconds before, resulting in the famous image attached to this file.

The underwear is another unknown in the study of the Assimilation. Should we assume that Mr. Grady wasn't already wearing the female thong panties at the time of the Implantation, we must conclude that they were introduced by the nymphoids. This all but rules out theories of a virus, or any other organic source behind the phenomenon and rather leans into more extra-terrestrial or supernatural conclusions – as unlikely as they seem.

Furthermore, careful analysis of the recording of Mr. Grady's implantation detected faint voices. Cleaning up the audio confirmed these to be numerous, female and rather sultry and seductive in nature. We can conclude from their volume and tone that they were intended for Mr. Grady alone rather than the audience watching via his webcam. I will play the audio for you now – unedited but for a significant increase in volume.

“Give in...give in to us now. Surrender. You will surrender and be ours. You will be us. We will be you. We will be one with you serving us. But you you must look. Look...LOOK. You want to look. We know you want to look. Look what we have done to you. Look and the transformation will be complete. Look and you will become one of us. You will be our first...but there will be many more. You will be us. We will have you. You will serve at our feet...at our ass. You will be a slave to our asses. And, we will be...euphoria!”   

Saving Grace Part 2

 18/25

This is from my Pink n Prissy Collective series. All captions for this ongoing story are in order on my index page.

Grace watched Terri working away furiously at the touchscreen of the tablet with quiet admiration. The Pink n Prissy Collective's tech guru was like its leader Josie in that she was a certified tomboy, but where Josie was thick and muscular from hours in the gym, Terri was slender, passive and wore spectacles perched on her freckled nose.

“I know the other girls think I try way too hard with this,” Terri said without looking up, “but without me, the Pink n Prissy Collective wouldn't have a website,” she finished typing with a flurry, “or any of its best projects!” She beamed at Grace with satisfaction and looked down the corridor. “Any minute now...”

Both girls watched in silence as a figure pushed through the high-school's double doors dressed in platform heels, white knee-high socks, a knitted mini-skirt and a fitted cardigan.

“Someone's late...” Terri muttered and Grace realised that even though they were the only other people remaining in the corridor after the students had all gone to class, the new arrival did not acknowledge them at all. “Must be still getting used to the dressing process...” Terri nodded profoundly as if realising something. “He'll get used to it.”

“He?” Grace stared hard at the face of the oblivious newcomer. It was heavy with thick and clumsy makeup but she thought she saw the hint of an Adam's apple. Regardless, the outfit and cosmetics combined gloriously to make a creation indistinguishable to the untrained eye from a regular, albeit slightly slutty, female student. “You did this?” She stared in wonder at her friend.

“He did it to himself.” Terri's head was in her screen once more. “With a little help...watch!” They watched as the girl stumbled awkwardly on the platforms over to a locker and fumbled at the combination with long acrylic nails. Finally, the door was open and the girl was staring mesmerised into it. “Six inch flatsreen glued to the back of his locker.” Terri explained. “Programmed to show hypnotic suggestion of the feminising variety. He has seen it five times a day for the past two months – long enough for him to accumulate what he needs for his new wardrobe without questioning why. At end of day yesterday, I pulled the trigger. The video changed to activate his dormant thoughts so that we may witness his debut this fine morning.”

“So this is him now?” Grace marvelled. “He will just go to class? As a girl? Not knowing why?”

“For the most part,” Terri smiled as her, “except when the bell rings... Every time that happens, he will remember who he is and realise what he is doing...just long enough to be humiliated, but not long enough to do anything about it.”