Whatever Happened to Warren and James? (After the Sleepover)

Really sorry about skipping Flashback Friday last week. It was a rush getting Miss-Labelled finished and I ran out of time. Here is a Flashback for "After the Sleepover"

Over the years that followed, James and Warren's bus ride back into town after their failed spying on Jane's sleepover at her Dad's fishing cabin became the stuff of legends. It hadn't mattered that it was first thing on a Saturday morning, the number 10 had been full of people on their way to the town market and these days even grandmothers have smart phones. Pictures of the pair all trussed up in their prissy dresses soon found their way onto social media and rumours of how they ended up like that started to spread. There had been 12 girls at Jane's sleepover. All had seen the boys naked. All had seen the boys stuffed into panties so tight that their eyes watered and smeared their freshly applied mascara. All had seen them kiss each other before they were finally released into the wild.

Needless to say, James and Warren kept a low profile for a while. You would too if your hockey buddies started calling you 'Princess' during practice and girls would come up to you after class asking you to autograph a picture of yourself in a frilly dress with poofy sleeves. Still, time passed and people moved on. Slowly, the boys were allowed to forget their ordeal and returned to their old mischievous ways – at least until a hot afternoon in July over three years later.

“You all know who these guys are, right?” The girl sitting behind the driver glanced from the screen of her cell phone to James and then to Warren and then to her teammates seated in pairs on the remaining benches – her eyes wide with wonder. The boys didn't recognise any of the girls even a little. They had flagged down the minibus for a ride from a nearby town when they recognised the crest of their old high-school on its rear door to find it transporting a dance troop back home after a competition. However, the driver of the van, a young female dance coach from the local college had pulled to the side of the road when the boys began to toss a tennis ball to each other within the bus. “It's definitely them!” The girl grinned excitedly turning her phone around to her teammates. “It's the princesses!”

James and Warren weren't naked in front of twelve girls this time – it was only nine, plus a woman a couple of years older than them. The dance team didn't bother with truth or dare to feminise them like Jane and her friends had either. They just grabbed them and started pulling away their clothes, overwhelming them five to one. They had no problem getting the boys into the lacy competition outfits either, holding them down while their teammates pulled the fabric up and over their bodies. They were treating it like a kind of ceremony, repeating everything they had heard from the rumours – applying makeup, forcing them into the spankies designed to go under the dresses...making them kiss.

“Alright, off you get!” The coach pushed a button and bus's door creaked open. By now they were wearing matching costume wigs and towering high-heels that had been part of the competition outfits. The boys painted eyes shot wide in fear – they were still at least two miles from town. “Don't worry,” the driver smirked. “We aren't leaving you here. We do need those dresses back – as great as they look on you. We just want to watch you walk for a bit.” And so, James and Warren were left to totter along the country road in their heels while nine high-school girls leaned out of the windows of the slowly moving bus filming every moment with their cellphones. A car passed going the other way, honking loudly, and the boys each knew their notoriety was about to come back in a big way.

The Tribute (an Aiko Story)

 13/25

The park was crowded with people. The carnival was in town and the meadows were littered with fairground rides. Aiko spotted Liza by the carousel holding a big stick of pink candyfloss and skipped over to meet her friend, her pace only slowing at the sight of Liza's boyfriend, Jay, in tow. Still, Aiko smiled warmly and took a handful of the cotton candy. Liza's hand snapped to her wrist and something unsaid passed between the two girls. The balled up cotton candy blew away on the breeze.

“Do you see?” Liza grinned and pulled Aiko's attention towards the carousel. A single figure clung to one of the colourful horses on the otherwise empty ride. The creature was dressed in an extravagant lolita dress and a huge pink wig hung over a clearly sweating brow. “Do you recognise him?” Liza asked. “Not the boy himself – he was just someone I spotted taking cotton candy from little kids so I allowed him to 'steal' some from me. I mean the tableau. It is one of yours – from back in Japan. I saw it on your blog. You tricked a boy into stealing your candy on Valentines Day and put him on a carousel. Now, I have done it too – just for you!”

“For me?” Aiko gave a rare blush. She remember the boy back in Japan well – Rob. Seeing the new boy riding the horse, clearly in the throes of candy addiction brought back a wave of happy memories. “Oh, Liza...” she whispered and embraced her friend in a tight hug.

Carter watched the scene from his mount – his thighs trembling around the plastic saddle. He had already debased himself letting that girl powder him and stuff him into this ridiculous dress for another taste of that candy but he was sweating again – craving again. He feared what he would have to do next.

He didn't recognise the Japanese girl but her arrival couldn't be good. Two tormentors was surely worse than one. He just didn't understand why he had been singled out for such torture. He was a volunteer for crying out loud. Just taking tickets and stamping kids hands so they could go on the rides. That guy with the girl who had dressed him had demanded a freebee and he had politely explained the money was for charity. Then the girl had smiled sweetly and suggested he tried her charity and offered him some of her candyfloss. Why hadn't he said no? If he had, he wouldn't be in panties right now.

Carter watched the girls hug and found himself hoping the new girl also had candy. He noticed the other boy was also watching them – the one the girl had called Jay. Presumably he was her boyfriend – so then why was he staring so intently at the other girl?

Miss-Labelled Part 3

 

Roy tried unsuccessfully to blink one of the heavy false eyelashes from his eye as the room continued to swim around him. How had he got so drunk so fast?! He had never been a lightweight... He closed his eyes in an attempt to concentrate and made a throaty snorting sound. He couldn't even remember how he got back up to the hotel room...

“Hot!” Said an amused male voice, and Roy's eyes shot open. A broad chested man stood at the end of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants absent to reveal a partially tented pair of boxers. The man smirked. “You know, we've worked together for years, and only today do I feel like I am getting to know the real Topaz? You're full of surprises!”

“I am?” Roy groaned as became aware of two vital facts. Firstly, he was naked but for the lingerie set he had picked out to go under Topaz's slutty gym outfit. It was a complicated piece full of snaps and fastenings, was uncomfortable as hell and had taken an age to get on. Secondly, he felt hornier than he ever had in his life. Not the kind of desire he was used to as a man, where the need to fuck was focussed to a point on the epicentre of his cock – but rather a heat that burned from within him like the sun. It was drowning, melting and flying all at once. He started to gasp for air but it just furthered the feeling that his body was trying to turn itself inside out – or rather Topaz's body, and he let out a deep moan.

“Aren't I the lucky one...” The man grinned. “And to think I wouldn't even be here if Roy hadn't taken off so suddenly and the company needed to send a replacement. I mean, I'm sure that new job in France is a great opportunity for him...but no way will the perks be this good...” Roy groaned again and groped his tits. Somewhere in his foggy brain, he knew the man had just said something significant, but all he cared about in that moment was getting off. He began to rub his hot skin and the man took it as an invitation to join him on the bed. As Roy caressed his soft spray-tanned arms, he knew there was something he should remember about them... Something he'd done? Trying to think made his head hurt so he tried to move his hands elsewhere, instinctively moving towards his lace panties – only the man was already there. Together they pulled them down as far as they would go against the stocking straps. The cool air-conditioned hotel room felt amazing against the heat of his exposed sex and Roy felt himself start to drool. This didn't feel right, but he was helpless to deny his body what it needed. In the mistiness of his alcohol riddled brain, a sudden thought hit him.

“Where's Topaz?” He moaned, but the man wasn't listening. He only pushed Roy face down on the bed and with strong hands on his hips began to line himself up. It didn't matter where Topaz was, Roy soothed himself. He would have his revenge once he had sobered up. But already his thoughts were drifting away again with his desires. His body was thrumming. He was panting.

“You know? I would never have guessed you'd be into this.” The man said he pressed his cock on Roy's now dripping pussy. “I probably would have guessed you were a lesbian.” He slid into Roy until his balls slapped against Roy's bloated ass, smiling at the sounds of pleasure it ripped from its recipient. “It just shows, you never really know who someone is on the inside...”

Miss-Labelled Part 2

 

Roy gazed into the bathroom mirror of his hotel suite with a kind of manic glee. The waxy sheen on Topaz's face filled him with dark satisfaction and this was just the beginning. The idea had come to him as he had been sitting at the hotel bar on that first night contemplating how he would avenge his non-binary colleague once he got his body back at the end of the weekend. Mulling over the implied lesson of understanding what it meant for your outside appearance not to match who you were inside, it had struck him like a bolt of lightning. What if he didn't have to wait until he got his body back? He was at the biggest nutrition and cosmetic supplement convention in the country – he could make the body he had right now into whatever he wanted, and Topaz would have to live with it when he returned it.

The beauty stalls had been his first port of call. There had been countless stands performing procedures and giving out samples and within hours, Topaz's lips had been injected with filler to practically bursting point and their face contained more botox than a Hollywood retirement home. He even found a stall offering collagen butt injections – not even bothering to go into the privacy area, he hiked up his dress for the blushing nurse to pump a bumper dose of the fluid into his loaner ass. The best part was that the treatment boasted to increase in volume over a matter of months, meaning Topaz's ass would keep growing and they would never understand why.

Once Roy had Topaz's body looking considerably more slutty, he went in search of other ways to ruin their life. Unexpectedly, he found it in a section of the main hall dedicated to helping women going through menopause. Libidox was a brand new treatment that worked similarly to a birth control implant in that once injected into the patient's arm, it released regular micro-doses of hormones that in the case of Libidox increased the recipient's sex drive. It didn't matter that Topaz was not menopausal since Libidox operated on such a tiny dose that it only had a minor impact. However, Roy was able to find three separate stands offering the implant as a trial, and once the reps occupying the stalls swapped shifts, he went round again. It was only once he had 18 implants in various spots in his arms that he decided it might be unsafe to continue. He didn't want to kill Topaz after all – just release the slut from within. The best part, the micro-doses wouldn't kick in for around 24 hours, by which time he would have long vacated the bitch's body.

Roy knew he ought to feel ridiculous – bleach barely having left his hair and the spray tan hardly dry on his glassy stiff skin, but revenge was too sweet. It was the morning of the final day of the convention and he was about to introduce the world to new and improved Topaz. The outfit he had picked out from a stall selling alternative fitness wear was the final touch – shiny black spandex of the leggings squeezing Topaz's freshly enlarged ass like a ripe piece of fruit. In around 12 hours the hormone implants would start to kick in and the transformation to whore would be complete. By then, Roy would have his co-worker's body well on the way to being drunk to ensure whoever was wearing the 'Topaz' nametag was going to have a night for the ages – and it damn well wasn't going to be him...

Miss-Labelled Part 1

 

It was only the first night of the Annual Nutraceuticals Convention but already the hotel bar was filling up. Roy sat on a high leather stool, carefully folding one leg over the other so he didn't flash his underwear from underneath the micro-dress. His phone and a suitably feminine cocktail sat on the bar in front of him, along with the source of his predicament – a convention nametag on a lanyard with 'Topaz' printed in bold lettering.

“You've got tits for fuck's sake! You're a woman!” When Roy had yelled those words earlier that day at his co-worker, he never thought they would be repeated back to him just hours later. The Annual Nutraceutical Convention was the biggest event in the SuppTech calendar, so when Roy was selected as one of two representatives from the company to attend, he was beyond excited – not least because he was going alongside Topaz, his ultra-hot colleague. Naturally, he assumed the first rule of work conventions – they would sleep together before the weekend was over. Things hadn't got off to the best start, however, as when he tried to flirt and hailed Topaz the hottest woman on the sales team, with a displeased glare, Topaz had declared they were non-binary. “You're shitting me!” Roy had doubled down. “Topaz is a precious stone, right? Like Ruby...Sapphire...JADE!! Hell, I even dated a hippy chick at school called Moonstone!” Needless to say, Topaz hadn't been enamoured by his efforts.

Things only went downhill from there. Their awkwardly silent train journey to the convention was extended by delays and by the time they eventually reached the hotel, they were the last two to arrive – their name badges the only two remaining in the welcome area of the lobby. Roy hurriedly grabbed one of the badges and something akin to static electricity sparked through his body. He stood frozen for a second until he sensed someone standing next to him at the table. To his amazement, he turned and saw himself standing there holding a badge with “ROY” printed in bold. He glanced down at his own badge and while he saw that it did indeed read “Topaz”, it was the fact it was clutched between slender fingers that he did not recognise that held his attention. What the hell?! He muttered in Topaz's lilted voice. He reacted quickly, but not quickly enough, reaching desperately for the tag bearing his own name only for it to be held out of reach by his own body. He tried again but Topaz manoeuvred Roy's much stronger body expertly to keep him at bay before threatening to do something that would ruin his reputation forever if he persisted.

“You've got tits for fuck's sake! You're a woman!” The words, spoken in his own voice, went around and around in Roy's head as he sat at the bar. He would get Topaz back for this! Once he had his nametag...once he had his body back, he would have his revenge. He knew they were trying to teach him a lesson, buying the mini-dress and heels – with Roy's own credit card. Something about gender identity and being made to behave and appear different to the person you were inside. But Topaz had promised if he followed instructions, he would get the nametag, and presumably his body back at the end of the weekend – and he didn't need to learn a lesson. He already knew who Topaz was on the inside. They were...she was a bitch. Sure, he would need to spend the next 36 hours with tits – but he would have the last laugh...

Picture Perfect

 12/25

The shutter snapped closed with a click as another picture was taken, and Liam shuddered, knowing that another layer of what remained of his identity would soon be removed. The photograph would be perfect, of course – to the observing eye anyway. They would see a beautiful young women, her tongue stuck out playfully, round breasts pushed out in a cute red bikini, old fashioned camera clutched in one carefully manicured hand and pointed at the mirror – a vacation snap, maybe... To Liam it may as well have been a mugshot taken right before he was hauled off to prison for a crime he hadn't committed.

When discovered, the camera had seemed like quite the find. Like buried treasure, it was hiding between garments and various other knick-knacks on a shelf at the back of Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly, an new vintage store on the edge of town. As an amateur photographer, Liam had always wanted a film camera, and so the Canon seemed like the perfect find. He had grabbed it at once and carried it to the counter, where he had shoved some bills into the hands of a tall dark woman and, unable to believe his luck, taken his prize home.

Liam's luck hadn't lasted long. Once a film canister had been loaded, he took his first picture of the same thing any young photographer uses for their first snap – himself. As soon as the shutter closed for the first time, there was an odd jolt that travelled up his arm to his head. It was as if something had been transferred into him – a thought, an idea...a compulsion. He had instantly taken another picture. By the end of his impromptu shoot, he had used the entire file, and oddly in the later pictures he had been wearing lipstick.

But the camera hadn't been satisfied. With every new selfie Liam took, the need to look more feminine grew. It was not a want – he did not desire to be a woman. It was a need. With every photograph, the camera was compelling him to look more perfect...more female. Liam was merely its helpless model.

Lip-filler followed, as did hair extensions, but the camera wanted more. Liam found himself buying women's clothing, and then wearing it. When he didn't fill it out, the camera insisted its puppet get breast implants and start taking hormones that would reshape his entire body. In six short months, Liam was transformed from nerdy photographer to someone who looked born to be the other side of the lens.

Liam tried to put down the camera, but he knew by now it was no use. He felt one of his French tipped fingers needle the top of his red bikini briefs and then stroke the final remaining piece of his male form, albeit shrivelled by the rounds of hormones. 'Not that', he groaned to no-one, but he knew it was futile. His other hand reached out for his phone as if guided by marionette strings, and he watched in horror as it began to type “bottom surgery” into the search engine.

Whatever Happened to Brett? (Empathy Training)

 Original caption is here 

Touch ups! That's what Cynthia called them. Minor but vital corrections when the product wasn't quite right. Since his empathy training ten years ago, Brett had suffered through numerous of these touch ups and he was starting to hate how easily he could slip into character whenever his boss felt the need to punish his behaviour.

It was reaching the point where Brett felt the need to force his resistance to his female alter ego. It was humiliating that it had almost started to feel like part of him. That was why he was sitting up ramrod straight on the stool in the space Cynthia used as both her office and studio surrounded by photography and lighting apparatus. The leather leotard was a recent addition to his boss's wardrobe. Over the years, her tastes had shifted from shiny latex to other styles and Brett found that these always seemed to be extended to the collection of clothing used on him. The material clung to him as tightly as rubber ever had and he was restricted to short quick breaths.

“What you're feeling right now,” Cynthia told him sternly, “is something akin to what a bride will experience while she is cinched into her wedding corset. Maybe this will teach you to have a little patience.” She sighed. “With the amount of chances I have given you in your career, I would have hoped some of it may have rubbed off on you by now.” Brett would have laughed if it had been possible to catch his breath. She knew nothing of his patience. The countless humiliations he had put up with over the last decade knowing that the old bitch's retirement had to be just around the corner... And, finally, if the rumours he was hearing were true, it was finally here. “If it isn't too much to ask,” Cynthia continued, “do you mind trying to be professional for the next few minutes at least?”

The older woman whistled through her fingers and Brett sat up even straighter as the door to the studio began to open. The layers of cosmetics on his face resisted as he tried to adopt a neutral expression – Cynthia had really gone all out with the makeup this time. Brief panic flashed through him as a young woman, presumably another future bride, entered the room. The leather leotard was not only tight around his torso and he couldn't remember whether he had tucked, so he quickly wrapped one of his boot clad legs over the other – realising too late how humiliatingly feminine his pose was.

“Annabel, this is Brett. My brilliant but totally obnoxious wedding photographer. Without him, this company would not have had half the success it has had over the past ten years.” Cynthia paused just long enough for Brett to blush with surprise as the young guest looked at him with wonder. “However, without these occasional 'touch-ups' to correct his behaviour, Brett would have got us sued so many times that there would be no company. I suggest you continue them.” She stopped again to drink in the confusion on the photographer's face as his painted lips parted and his brushed eyes popped wide. “Brett, this Annabel, my niece. She will be taking over my role at the studio starting next month. I trust you will treat her with the respect you show me and not that you show our clients. To make sure, I will be showing her the ropes over the coming weeks...”