Whatever Happened to Wilson? (Playing the Market)

 This Flashback Friday is for an old two part caption I am particularly fond of. Part 1, Part 2

For as long as he lived, Wilson didn't think he would ever hate a sound more than that of high-heel shoes clacking on wooden flooring – especially when said shoes were attached to his feet. Even the clang of prison doors slamming shut every night for the last ten years didn't come close. Even the sobbing of his cellmate couldn't touch that taunting clicking of leather on timber – and yet here he was, once more enduring it.

Wilson held the invite to the Gala in one hand and the hotel keycard in the other. He was manicured with French tips as instructed and his legs had a gloss to them only outdone by the metallic sheen of the silver dress that clung to his body. It wasn't a surprise that it fit perfectly – his tormentor had clearly done their homework and after all his body maintained its feminine proportions even after a decade behind bars. The evidence against him had been airtight, delivered with a red ribbon to the authorities, and his lawyer had not only advised him to plead guilty to all charges, but to maintain the facade of his new female identity. In the year leading up to his arrest he had been on accelerated hormone replacement and had multiple cosmetic procedures to reshape his body and face. He had neither the money nor time to reverse them before his trial and doing anything but continue to live as a women would have resulted in a truly hellish prison experience.

And now he was free... Wilson rolled his eyes at the thought. He was on parole, and that meant continuing to keep up appearances – at least on the rare occasion he left the house. Fortunately, the internet enabled him to live like a recluse most of the time. And then the Gala invitation arrived – a neat little printed card packaged up with the perfectly measured silver dress and instructions how to prepare himself for the event, meaning a string of trips to beauticians and treatments he could barely afford now. And for what? Why shouldn't he have tossed the invite and burn the dress? Well, it was from the person who delivered him to the authorities all those years ago. If he attended the gala, they promised to reveal themselves as the person responsible for his downfall.

Wilson slid the card into the hotel door and it opened with a buzz. The Gala was due to begin in an hour and he had just enough time to reapply his makeup and walk around a little without those damned heels. He slipped the invite into his tiny purse and froze in his tracks. An equally surprised figure stood before him in a matching silver dress. They were like a perfect reflection – not only in appearance but also the ordeal they had gone through in the last ten years.

“It's you...” Wilson stated glumly at Douglas. “Suppose you got one of these too?” He pulled the invite back out of his purse and the crestfallen look on his double's face was all the confirmation he needed. They both groaned in unison just as a polite knock preceded the room's door opening.

“Ladies.” An officious looking man greeted them. “I am here to collect and take you downstairs. Everyone is very excited for your joint keynote speech about overcoming corruption in the boardroom.”

The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 3

 6/25

“Why did you do it? Why did you screw us?” Chris asked Angela one evening while they were alone. With Hannah and her relentless appetite for cock gone from the island, the nights at the beach camp had become far more muted affairs and they were sitting quietly around the remains of a campfire. Angela stared back at the reserved young man and considered making a crack that she was the only female contestant that hadn't screwed him – having witnessed his double-teaming of Celia in the first game and then his nightly visits to Hannah's hut first hand. But she knew what he was talking about. “Why did you sabotage the Network's shows so Femnonymous would do what they did?” He saw the practised look of innocence begin to spread across her face and cut it off at the pass. “Martin and Celia may have been too focussed on their career advancement to see what you were doing, but not me. You would be amazed what an introvert notices. I'm sure Martin and Celia have a lot more time to listen now...” He made to stand up.

“Wait!” Angela yelped. “Alright, I will tell you!” She didn't know what Martin and Celia would do if Chris went to them with this, but it wouldn't be anything good. The odds were stacked in her favour given her past history of siding with Femnonymous, but she wasn't infallible. Certainly she wasn't if all three remaining contestants conspired against her. “You're young, Chris...and naïve. You worked for the Network like, what? Four months? It's probably your first job right? Dream come true... Well, that was me once... Only I was a little more like Celia that I will even admit to her. Anyway, three years ago I started out as a junior producer. Spot that Sissy had just gone viral and it was just me and another girl called Mandy...The Network was nowhere near as big as it is today yet. Still small enough that the company CEO would attend the company Christmas party. I even met him at my first one. Guy called Bryce Murphy. He apparently even took quite a shine to me. Promised me a big new promotion before the second season of Spot that Sissy.” Chris was looking at her raptly. “Only it never happened. Mandy got it instead. I was even happy for her until I found out she had been blowing him since the party. When I asked him about it, he had no idea who I even was. The Network is a cancer, Chris. It makes a mockery of women on and off the screen. It is rotten to its core and I want watch it decay!”

“But Bryce Murphy isn't here. We are!” Chris said said finally after listening to her sermon. “If we get turned into human sextoys, how exactly does that help your cause?” He stood quietly and left Angela to stoke at the dying embers of the campfire.

The third game was a most unwelcome one – quite literally. Before things even began, all four contestants were fitting with bejewelled buttplugs, along with a healthy glob of the lubricant from the second round. Angela felt betrayed. She had never been invaded like this before. How could they do this to her? She was their mole and she was being degraded like a whore – like the rest of the producers... This time she was paired with Martin against Chris and Celia. The game was simple – each plug had a matching trigger that had been hidden somewhere on the island. Each team was tasked with finding the ones corresponding to the opposition team and activating the one for the contestant they wished to be consigned to the throne. Angela was amazed to find that Martin took to the game like a duck to water, in spite of the invasion to his backside. He led her through jungle and around buildings like he had been fitted with a gps rather than a sextoy. Clearly he been doing his homework. Within two hours they had both triggers but instead of operating them, Martin led Angela to a dark area behind some trees.

“Don't speak. Just listen.” He whispered. “This is a blindspot from the cameras.” He glanced around them at the trees. “We have a few minutes before those latex bitches notice we aren't on any of the feeds and come looking for us, so I will make this quick. I have found a way off this place – a way off the island.” His eyes locked with Angela's. “We can get out of here! Celia is in, but I haven't spoken to Chris. I saw you with him this morning. Can we trust him?” Martin produced the pair of triggers and Angela struggled to resist grabbing Celia's and slamming down the button. She couldn't wait to see that bitch get transformed. But a way off the island? No way could she let that happen. She considered the options and a sudden urgency overwhelmed her. What if Celia and Chris were having this exact conversation somewhere else on the island about her? What would Chris say? Sure she was a mole, but there was no way Femnonymous would risk losing face by sparing her if she lost this game. Angela shot out a hand and pressed Chris's trigger...

Chris clutched the furry handcuffs in one hand and the whip in the other, and tried to steady himself for what he needed to do next. Months had passed since the throne had transformed him but the compliance chip still felt alien. He knew he looked like a different person now – a slender women with long dark hair, a cute butt and a penchant for wearing tight latex outfits that squeezed his tidy breasts and brand new pussy – but the chip made him behave like a different person too. In his former life he had been a quiet introverted junior producer, barely more than an intern – and now he was a hyperactive loud dominatrix with a basket of dildos about to get to work on her latest client. Or so the chip demanded... The chip was the real dominatrix here... And still he obeyed, he yelled, he whipped, he insulted, he spanked...and ultimately he sat on the dick until the customer was satisfied. It humiliated him that he found that bit the easiest. He wanted to hate Femnonymous for what they had done to him – but in his rare moments of quiet when the chip wasn't whirring and issuing demands, his thoughts of revenge were for someone quite different...

Back on the island, Angela awoke with a start. She immediately felt vulnerable, being forced to sleep naked will do that, but even more so when someone is standing over you shaking you awake. She tried to scream but a strong hand clamped over her mouth.

“We're getting out of here right now!” Martin hissed in her ear. “Let's go! Celia is waiting outside...”

Whatever Happened to Frank? (Come Together)

 Today's Flashback Friday is a for a two part story I wrote nearly 12 years ago. You can find it here. Part 1 Part 2

Frank slid slowly into Louise and she moaned softly. She was mounted on top of him and juddered with pleasure as he reached for her platform heels to pull her closer – her cries reaching almost hysteria. This was always the most painful part – hearing her choreographed ecstasy, hot and balmy in his ear. He was sure she was enjoying this on some level – it wasn't all fake, yet he was just a prop to her. In the corner of the room, the camera watched on – an audience of one broadcasting to thousands.

Frank and Louise's couples therapy had not been successful. They had escaped that charade with little dignity and nothing of the promised repair to their marriage, and within a year they had agreed to separate. The problem was neither of them could afford it. Their savings spent trying to save their relationship, Frank couldn't afford to move out and rent his own place, and Louise didn't have the income to keep paying the mortgage without his help. They were stuck.

Six months later Louise opened an OnlyFemmes account. She didn't ask Frank's permission. She didn't need it. Desperate to move on with her life, she resorted to posting softcore nude content online that grew decidedly less soft as the subscribers failed to come – pun intended. Short on ideas, she brought all sorts of props into her content. She even filmed a video wearing one of the awful pink wigs from the couples therapy she had somehow held onto. That was when she received a DM from someone claiming to have seen the film with the double ended dildo that had been shot during the fake therapy. The sender offered big bucks for more content with her 'sister'.

Frank told himself it was the money that convinced him to take part, but deep down he knew it was the chance to be close to Louise again. He even agreed to take the hormone pills to make his body look soft and curvy under the fussy lens of the camera. They worked wonders and once his body was waxed and groomed he looked every inch the lithe and sexy 'sister' Louise's OnlyFemmes promised.

Louise grew her hair and dyed it hot pink and so Frank got to wear the wig for every shoot now. He wore other things too – sexy underwear and towering heels, but worst of all was the sheath. The hormones had shrunk his manhood to a laughable parody and he was supposedly Louise's female sibling anyway, so in many of their videos he wore a rubber prosthetic over his shrivelled cock to pleasure his ex-wife with – such was the case for today's clip. Louise was grinding onto him furiously now, her weight pushing his transformed body into the soft velvet of the couch. She teased him with a nipple between his parted pink lips, yet when her eyes met his, they were cold. He was just a means to an end to her – a prop. He was the pathetic embodiment of the fake dick he was screwing her with. Frank knew he wasn't stuck any more. They had made good money from the OnlyFemmes account. He could leave anytime he wanted. And yet, as Louise forced his face into her breasts and bucked her way to a screaming orgasm in his lap, he knew he never would....   

Dungeons and Damsels Part 3

 

“But the Black Veil is not only perilous... it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part!” As the hooded woman on the screen continued the tale, Toby had to admit he felt pretty powerful right now. Despite the lithe female form he now occupied, clothed in the skimpiest of bikinis barely concealing a pair of heaving breasts, he did hold a giant sword. There was also Steve... His friend, who had started out as a knight, had just rolled a seventeen on the pink lust dice and was now a lingerie clad bride kneeling at Toby's feet, clutching at his legs with one hand while moaning 'My Queen...My Queen!' over and over, her other hand hovering just over the hem of her panties. “And already, you are being watched!” The woman was smirking. “Shapes gather in the distance. Slow. Deliberate. Curious. Creatures of this region know the legends well… and one truth above all: The Demon Queen does not travel with male companions.” Devon glanced at Toby nervously. “A queen with guards invites suspicion. A queen with prisoners invites fear. So before those figures draw close, you must wear the shackles, and be prepared to explain how you were broken.”

“The shackles...” Devon repeated dumbly looking at the pair he had retrieved from the box. “At least they are better than...that!” He stared blankly at Steve, who was now trying to run his tongue up the inside of one of Toby's toned thighs. Fearing similar consequences, Devon quickly slipped the rusted shackles around the huge muscular ankles of his mercenary's body. The ethereal glow returned, this time filling the entire house. When it eventually faded, the hooded woman was in the room with them.

“Excellent!” She smiled, dropping her cloak to reveal she was otherwise completely naked. Toby instinctively looked away, only to find himself staring directly at his friend...or at least what had become of him. Devon, far from the towering hulk he had been, was now a short but curvy woman with floppy blonde hair and thick layered makeup. Her voluptuous body was squeezed by a black leather corset and she shuffled awkwardly in thigh high latex boots that were still clasped together at the ankles by the shackles. A look of panic filled Devon's now pretty face and he blushed hard – the belt fastened around his throat giving his head the effect of a bulging red balloon. “My Dear...” The naked Dungeon Master demanded in an authoritative tone. “Pull up your gloves! You are a prisoner, not a whore!” Devon reached to the tops of the vinyl gloves that had slackened on his arms and hurriedly tried to pull them back over his elbows. “Which reminds me...” The woman continued while picking up a small black and gold dice from the box. “You still need to roll to determine how submissive a prisoner you will be!” She dropped the dice onto one of Devon's gloved hands but it immediately slid off the shiny material to the floor. “Ooops!” She gasped in mock horror. “Twenty!” She licked her lips as Devon's new form seemed to shrink and cower before her. “Now...” She grasped the cat-o-nine-tails and nodded to Toby with the feminised Steve curled around his feet like a kitten and then to the trembling latex clad Devon quivering before her own. “Now the real quest begins. Or maybe I should say...conquest!” The thunder boomed once more and the room glowed with a new intensity as the three friends felt themselves being sucked towards the monitor in the corner of the room.

Dungeons and Damsels Part 2

 

“This is getting creepy!” Exclaimed Devon carrying the wooden box into the house. It looked tiny in the giant hands his transformation into the mercenary had bestowed upon him and he clutched it to his muscled chest like a newborn before carefully setting in down on his friend's dining table.

“Now it's getting creepy?” Toby's jaw dropped open. “I have tits!” He swatted Steve's reaching hand away defensively before pressing his own into his bikini top. “They feel real...I think... I've never had boobs before!” He stopped groping himself to watch Devon emptying the contents from the box – several multi-coloured, multi-sided dice, an ancient looking ring, a cat-o-nine-tails whip, a pair of shackles and a small collection of coins.

“The night hangs heavy...” All three boys whirled around to face the computer monitor. The hooded woman was speaking – she seemed closer now, more alive as if she were about to pop right out of the screen. Thunder crashed once more outside. “The road ahead swallowed by a dark that seems to breathe. You stand on the edge of the Black Veil, a place unclaimed, unwatched...unforgiving. Those who enter speak of shadows that listen, and eyes that linger just beyond the firelight. And yet here you are...a Mighty Knight, bound by honour...an Indomitable Mercenary, hardened by survival...and a Demon Queen, whose presence alone unsettles the air. Three figures. One dangerous road. But the Black Veil is not only perilous… it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part. A lone queen draws questions. So before you take another step...which of you will pose as the Demon Queen's tryst? Which of you will wear her ring?”

“I guess she means this!” Steve held up the old box Devon had retrieved from the box. “I guess it should be me. What kind of a knight would I be if I didn't protect my queen?” He slipped it on his finger and his body instantly took on an ethereal glow. His armoured form shrank until all that remained was a delicate feminine form dressed in bridal lingerie. Steve blinked in stunned silence from within his new body, pawing helplessly with a gloved hand at a pair of silk stockings that now encased his legs.

“As the Demon Queen's new bride, your devotion to her is unmatched!” The Dungeon Mistress announced from inside the monitor. “Roll the green dice to decide how deep your dedication runs!” Toby put down his giant sword and handed a ten sided dice to the cowered feminised Steve, who barely touched it, allowing it to fall to the floor and display a nine. No sooner had the dice stopped moving then Steve felt an electricity run through him, captivating him. He looked up at the warrior queen who had handed him the dice with steely loyalty. He would die for her. “Of course...” The cloaked woman on the screen continued. “Devotion alone is not enough to sustain romance. The Demon Queen's bride must lust her – she must yearn her touch move than life itself. Roll the pink dice to decide how deep the need to satisfy your queen really goes!” Willed forward my his newfound devotion, with quivering lace covered hands, Steve picked up the giant twenty sided dice, and rolled it on the floor...

Dungeons and Damsels Part 1

 

“Okay, she's hot and everything...” Devon sighed at the AI generated cloaked woman that had appeared behind the heavy looking table on his friend's computer monitor. “But doesn't using a digital version of a dungeon master kind of defeat the point of table top gaming? At this point we may as well fire up the PlayStation...”

“Hey, no one was stopping you from putting a campaign together.” Toby shrugged. “Besides, it's free. If it's no good, we can stop and you can walk home in the storm.” As if to emphasise his point, thunder crashed outside and the two boys, along with their friend Steve looked warily at the blinking bulb swinging above Toby's attic.

The trio had been meeting almost every weekend to play out Dungeons and Dragons campaigns for nearly fifteen years, but since their buddy Ryan had left for college two months ago, they had been without a Dungeon Master. Ryan had promised to lead campaigns via Zoom calls but after three weeks of being away, he had plundered a fair maiden of his own and spending Saturday nights teeing up monsters for his old pals to knock down no longer held the same appeal. The boys had looked for a new fourth with no luck leading to Toby, inspired by their brief experience with a Zoom based DM, having the idea to seek out a virtual master to plot their dungeon crawling.

“Hey, it's starting!” Steve put down his beer and belched loudly. On the monitor, fog was circling around the cloaked woman as she rose from behind the table. Pulling her hood back to reveal frosty white hair and icy cool grey eyes, her sinister smile appeared to reach through the screen and forcibly hold their gaze. The mist continued to swell around her until it occupied the bottom half of the screen. The heads of three figures emerged from the fog above the command – 'CHOOSE YOUR CHAMPIONS!'

“The Mighty Knight, the Indomitable Mercenary...the Demon Queen.” Devon read aloud. “Well, the knight sounds generic as hell and while I don't know what Indomitable means, screw playing as a girl. I choose the mercenary!” As if hearing him, the character glowed on the screen. Steve quickly chose the knight and the armoured figure also glowed, leaving the party's host to select the Demon Queen.

“Grow up, guys.” Toby sighed. “It's just a gaaaamm...” But even before he could finish his sentence the room began to glow around them. All three boys felt a pulsing beneath their skin as their bodies slowly transformed – Devon into a bare chested brute covered in scars, Steve into a regal looking soldier wrapped in chain-mail...and Toby into lithe blonde creature dressed in little more than a tiny bikini ordained with skulls and a pair of gauntlets fashioned from a shiny black material. He blinked at the enormous sword that had appeared in his slender hands, and then turned to the computer monitor where a message had appeared. 'Prepare to receive your tools!' In spite of the storm raging outside, all three boys heard a thunderous boom at the front door...

The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 2

 5/25

Angela knew the remaining guys were fucking Hannah. It was some kind of end of the world shit. They knew they were doomed and Hannah had been a drooling insatiable mess since Angela had jammed three doses of the aphrodisiac into her. Femnonymous were keeping the remaining producers in bamboo huts on the beach. There were no doors or locks since there was nowhere for them to run to, and so all throughout the night, the restless frightened guys took turns in crossing the sand to screw the sex-crazed former office-mom stupid – or even stupider. Angela sat in the doorway of her hut and watched them come and go. Hannah would be roused to shrill screams of ecstasy and then they would leave again, sometimes even crossing paths, their gazes averted.

Celia watched too. Her usual stony bravado was much subdued since the first game. Angela wasn't sure if it was getting double teamed in front of the cameras that had done it or witnessing Jason's abrupt and dramatic transformation into a huge chested blonde sex doll. If they hadn't known the stakes before, they sure knew them now.

“If you try that shit you pulled on Hannah on me, I will crush you!” Celia called out flatly from her seat in the doorway of her hut. Angela just nodded silently. Hannah wasn't the first bimbo she had been responsible for creating. In her time working for the Network, she had been responsible for the sabotage of numerous shows that resulted in the unwilling transformation of the male contestants. It had been her that waved the red flag for Femnonymous to come swooping in and punish her stupid company. Sure, they had taken her too. But she supposed that was part of the grand plan. Once a mole, always a mole, right? Celia would be resigned to bimbodom like the rest of them. She thought being facefucked by Jason was bad? Just wait until Femnonymous turned her into some kind of playboy's silicone plaything... She would be praying for the day the worst thing to happen her was sucking Jason's dick. “What are you grinning at, bitch?” Celia called over and Angela realised her daydreams of Celia's inevitable future had surfaced as a dopey smile all over her face.

“I was just wondering where this is going to fit on your resumee?” Angela said softly. “Does getting kidnapped by vigilantes and turned into a mindless drone fit with your lofty career ambitions?” Cecil scowled and finally went inside her hut leaving Angela to listen to the rhythmic clapping of one of the guys going at it with Hannah.

The second challenge came the next day. Five women clad head to toe in latex led the contestants to a clearing where four large perspex containers stood about two feet high and five feet square. Two of the containers were filled with some kind of transparent jelly substance – lube the producers realised one by one. The game was simple. Split into two teams, it was a straight race to move all the lubricant from one of the containers to one of the empty ones – the catch being that none of them could use any tools except for their own naked bodies. Whichever team lost would lose one of their members to the throne, which had been set up ominously in the centre of the clearing.

Angela was paired with Chris and Hannah and as they were getting ready to begin, she could see Celia looking around at the treeline surrounding the clearing. She's looking for the cameras, Angela realised. After everything they had been through, the stupid bitch was concerned how the humiliating experience they were about to undertake would reflect on her. Angela felt a sudden desperation to win the game so she could see Celia's downfall...so everyone could see her degradation right there, right now...

Alas, it wasn't to be... The usually self-centred career climbers of Martin and Celia may be a lot of things but they were also resourceful. After a short discussion, Celia adopted a boat-like sitting position and Martin began to frantically scoop handfuls of lube into her lap. Once she was holding a good amount, Martin grabbed her underneath her knees and armpits with his strong lean arms, and hoisted both her and her quarry to the empty container. Angela glared disapprovingly at her teammates. There was no chance the weedy Chris could do the same for her and Hannah had already sprawled in the tub of lube, furiously fisting herself and moaning loudly. With a feeling of futility, they got to work trying to grab armfuls of the goo and carry it to the target. Within minutes, all five of them were gloopy slippery messes dripping with the jelly. It was a horrible mismatch and Martin and Celia ran out resounding victors in about fifteen minutes – about the same time it took Hannah to have six orgasms, who was then carried awkwardly by four latex clad amazons to the throne despite still having a full hand thrust into her own sex.

The transformation was as quick as it had been for Jason. Hannah may have already been a woman, but it was no less dramatic. The tubes fixed to her glistening skin even as she continued to masturbate, and filled her with the chemicals while some kind of mask fitted itself around her face. The other four producers and all the cameras watched in silence as she was mechanically crafted into something unrecognisable.

Hannah was breathing hard as she leant back on the bed. She didn't know how long she had been there anymore. She didn't care. She just knew she had been waiting too long for the next man. The last one had left her unquenched. They always did. It was because of her new body. She knew that much. Her new tits...her massive round new ass...even her fat new lips. They were why the men didn't last long now. It didn't matter matter if she put them in her mouth, let them shoot it up her butt or rode them like a good old rodeo, they could only hold it in a few minutes. Good thing there seemed to be an endless supply of them. Finally, there was a knock at the door and a huge man entered. She could already see his erection throbbing inside his jeans – ready to please her. Ready to try. She parted her silk-stockinged legs invitingly so the man could see up her crotchless panties as he approached, and opened her mouth – ready to feast...