Whatever Happened to Lance? (A Queen's Ransom)

 This continues my Femnonymous/Network stories, but the flashback is for one of my first captions - A Queen's Ransom. Part 1 is here.

Madison and Bryan knew it was a risk but the time was now or never for getting Frontline Entertainment Media on the map. Online gossip sites were already saturated with stories and scoops on the upcoming airing of Femnonymous's presumed lost version of the Network's own Apprentits and their interviews with past victims of the underground group had barely made a splash.

They stood in front of the large town house, microphone and camera at the ready, and they burst forward the second the door opened, knocking a flustered housekeeper to one side in the process. Senator Laney Charleton, formerly Lance, stood before them in the lobby leaning to adjust the ankle strap of an open-toed high-heel shoe. Her mouth dropped open until she saw the camera slung over Bryan's shoulder, and her politician's mask instantly reformed.

“Senator Charleton...” Madison gasped breathlessly. “How do you respond to allegations that your public gender transition eleven years ago was a total sham? And in fact you were actually the victim of one of Femnonymous's transformations? There first victim in fact...”

“Allegations from whom?” The Senator spluttered. “I will sue them, and you, if any such allegations are ever made public.” The blonde politician scowled and straightened her suit. “Do you really think I would persevere with these blasted shoes if it wasn't what I wanted? Now leave, immediately, before I call the police!”

“It has certainly been the making of your political career,” accused Bryan. “I hear you're in the running for the next vice president...” He shifted his camera to the other shoulder. “In a couple of weeks everyone is going to find out what really happened to those six Network producers who were kidnapped and forced to play the Apprentits. Who's to say some of Femnonymous's other victims won't also be on the tapes?” The Senator's face was suddenly ashen.

“Senator Charleton...” Madison took another step forward. “What about speculation that the airing of these tapes will anger Femnonymous, and provoke them into returning? You may have transitioned, whether willingly or not, but your policies have remained as misogynist as ever. Don't you worry that if Femnonymous do return, you might be high on their target list?”

“Target list?” The Senator repeated mechanically. The blood had drained from her face and she was fidgeting with the top button of her blouse. “Listen to me carefully and turn off that camera!” Madison nodded to Bryan and he lowered his equipment. “If you quote any of this, I will deny it. I don't know what's going to be on those tapes...or who is going to be on those tapes. If it is those producers, you're going to see them transformed into silicone messes for the entertainment of the masses. But if Femnonymous do come back because of this, it won't be me they go after. They will have their sights set much higher. They will have plans far beyond what your little brains could imagine...”

Appraising Jeanie

 Jeanie and the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes appear in a number of my other stories, so I have added them to my index page.

Jeanie sat across a desk of mist and rainbows from her line manager. All the offices at the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes were like this – simultaneously light and whimsical and bone crushingly intimidating. Today was her annual appraisal and it had not been a good year.

Her team leader folded her arms and frowned down at her direct report over a faint moustache. She glanced down at the document before her and cleared her throat. “So, Miss Jeanie, it seems in the last twelve months you have provided our wishers with 75 blowjobs, 132 handjobs, brought 19 men to climax with your breasts and given 3...” she raised the report closer to her eyes, “earjobs!” She raised an unplucked eyebrow to Jeanie. “In that same time, you have successfully corrupted 14 wishes.” The exasperated line manager sighed. “Miss Jeanie, are you operating as a djinn, or a common whore?”

Jeanie flushed red but tried indignantly to hold her manager's angry stare. “Fourteen? Does that include Gavin from last week?”

“The idiot who wished for tits the size of coconuts that leaked actual coconut milk?” Her team lead rolled her eyes. “No, it doesn't include Gavin. You can't manipulate a wish that is certifiably stupid to begin with.” She shuffled her report and rested her chins on folded hands. “Look Miss Jeanie – as hard as you try to prove otherwise, we both know you're not an imbecile. You see how the economy is and with the recent redundancies, you are being asked to cover the work of three djinns. But, you are failing! And, we also both know that with your current numbers, the only reason you are not one of those redundancies is because of who your Dad is.” She sat back in her chair of mist. “However, I give you my word, if there is no improvement soon, I will make sure you're looking for a new job before you can say 'Abra Kadabra'.”

Jeanie felt a small smile creeping over her face and urgently tried to hide it as soon as she realised her manager had noticed.

“Don't gloat too soon,” the line manager glared and, without further hesitation, snapped her fingers. Jeanie's jeans and shirt instantly vanished and were replaced with a cartoonish and revealing costume. A highcut leotard rode high on her thighs and orange striped stockings climbed her legs. Finally, a huge silly witch's hat appeared on her head. “That should make sure you remember who you are!” Her manager smiled thinly as Jeanie tried unsuccessfully to cover her body. “From now on, any titjobs you give out better be at least double-Ds!” Jeanie scowled as she realised how easy it would have been to convert another 19 of her sex-acts into successfully manipulated wishes.  

Whatever Happened to Dick? (Recasting Couch)

 This continues both my Femnonymous and Network stories, which have all previous parts on my index page. This is a flashback of Recasting Couch, which can be read here 

“You've got exactly five minutes!” The big breasted blonde woman ushered Madison and Bryan into her hotel room. “Do you know how many guys I could blow in that time?” She added coolly, bringing a pair of twin blushes to the reporters' cheeks. Bryan had his camera over one shoulder, 'Frontline Entertainment Media' printed along one side as well as on his t-shirt. On the way up he had got plenty of context shots of the hotel that had been overrun by young revellers since the onset of spring break, and now the film was full of drunken women baring their tits and douche bags chugging beer.

“Then I guess we'd better make this a quickie!” Madison said brightly, but they all knew the joke had fallen flat. Their interviewee, the former porn-magnate Dick Rising, and now, thanks to Femnonymous, viral sex-marathon bimbo, seemed disinterested. She was tightening the ties of her faux-leather bodysuit, which Bryan noted had open slits at the crotch and ass. Apparently un-phased by their presence, Dick grabbed a tube of lube and squirted a huge blob out onto his manicured hands before getting to work rubbing it furiously into both holes.

“I don't usually need this stuff, but when you're going for four digits over a long weekend, you need to look after yourself.” The bimbo explained flatly. “That's one thousand pricks!” She nodded to the once more blushing Bryan. “Do you think I am compensating for something?” She looked him dead in the eye and flicked her gooey fingers over her flat groin provocatively. “Happy for it to be one thousand one...”

“We're doing a piece on some of Femnonymous's victims.” Madison began nervously. “You know ahead of the premier of the lost Apprentits tapes. Ten years ago you were a successful producer...”

“And now I'm a filthy web whore having trains run on me by drunken students for content...” Dick snorted humourlessly. “Some would call that irony... I suppose your next question will be why do I put myself through this? Why not just disappear somewhere to be some quaint little farm girl? Well, Honey...I was born into this business...and I will damn likely die in it. It is all I know!”

“We just assumed Femnonymous messed with your libido like they did to some of the others.” Madison replied in shock. “We know about the throne. We know about what they did to you!”

“You don't know shit.” Dick scowled and raised a middle finger. “Look lady, I will tell you one more thing for free and then I got a long line of spring-breakers in balaclavas to screw. How many Network producers was it Femnonymous took? Six? It doesn't really matter. They don't exist any more. You think those latex bitches did a number on me? They were just getting started! They are going to make those producers a spectacle...and when they're through, their own mothers wouldn't know them from a silicone cum dumpster!”

Liquorice (a Liza story)

 All my Aiko and Liza stories are on my index page in order

“Can I go do the back yard now?” Glenn whispered. “Somewhere less people can see?” His concern was apparent – it was garage sale season and dozens of would be bargain hunters were passing by his position trimming the hedge. The manly nature of his task, contrasted perfectly with the vintage polka-dot dress he had been made to put on, not to mention the velvet lined high-heels and thick face of make up.

“Don't be silly!” Liza giggled. “There are no hedges in the back yard. You should know, we sat out there drinking lemonade enough times back when we were going out. You would know if you ever paid attention. If you had paid attention to me, we would probably still be going out rather than me watching you do yard work in laced panties!” She laughed as the boy blushed and then double-downed on her amusement as she noticed her Step-Dad watching them through the window in his French maid's uniform – feather duster in hand “Things would be different for a lot of people if they paid attention to me...”

“How could anyone not...” spoke a crisp masculine voice from behind her. Liza whirled around in surprise to come face to face with a boy about her age, ruggedly handsome with a stylish stubble and leather biker jacket. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your Mom is never going to win any beauty contests.”

“Huh? No!” Liza stammered, scrambling for her words as Glenn rolled his eyes from beneath his blonde wig. He felt weirdly offended at the insinuation he made for an ugly woman. “I mean, that's not my Mom. That's my...erm...ex-boyfriend.” She smiled, finally regaining her composure. “And I don't know about the beauty contests...you should meet his stylist!”

“Right!” The boy grinned broadly, holding her eyes like a magnet. “I'm Jay,” he stuck out a hand, “and you're Liza. I have seen you around,” he explained,”I have seen you with that Japanese girl who wears way too many ribbons. So, tell me, how come dear Mommy here is your ex? He keep stealing your shoes?”

“No,” Liza giggled a little too hard, “it wasn't that. Glenn was always a little too vanilla for me. I like my boys a bit darker...” she eyed the black leather of Jay's jacket. “I like more of an acquired taste. I like liquorice!” The boy gave a toothy smile and Liza matched it as if some invisible message had passed between them. Eventually, Jay broke their connection and glanced at the bag of candies sat on the end of the hedge that had been keeping Glenn motivated in his yard work. Liza followed his eyes and hurriedly snatched up the bag of sweets. “No,” she shook her head as she stuffed them in a pocket. “Those aren't for you.”

Whatever Happened to Trever? (Freebee)

This continues my overlapped Network/Femnonymous story, both of which are in full on my index page. It is a Flashback Friday of my caption Freebee

“Remember,” Madison hissed to her cameraman and sole companion as he finished setting up his equipment. “Try not to stare!” Bryan nodded, thinking he could always hide behind the viewfinder if there was any risk. That idea immediately vanished as he saw their interviewee waddling across the pool area towards them. The woman had enormous breasts floating unnaturally in a barely-there black bikini top and string bottoms that clung around cartoonishly exaggerated hips. Bryan's eyes flitted to the front of the swimsuit that was ominously smooth. This bimbo used to be a guy?! He stared aghast.

“Sorry...” He muttered as Madison introduced them. They were Frontline Entertainment Media, a web exclusive entertainment news channel that covered everything from the latest celebrity scandals to up and coming new shows. In this case it was both.

“Hi there, Tiff!” Madison held out her hand warmly, a microphone baring the insignia 'FEM' in the other. “We're so glad you agreed to have a quick chat with us! As a former employee of the Network and a...errr...victim of Femnonymous's campaign of terror, the news that the Network plans to relaunch by airing the fabled lost tapes of Femnonymous's version of the Network's own show, 'The Apprentits', must have come as a shock to you?” The woman formerly known as Trevor stared back dumbly – a pair of fat pink lips pursed in a silent pout.

“You used to work in recruitment for the Network,” Bryan prompted. “But the contestants on the lost tapes weren't recruited - they were kidnapped. Do you have any thoughts on that?” The woman's blank look remained but she slowly turned one of her platform heels inwards and cupped her hands under her breasts provocatively. “What's wrong with her?” Bryan whispered to Madison.

“I read that Femnonymous did some kind of behaviour modification on her. Apparently ramped up her sex drive to 11 and fried her decision making.” Madison replied. “It's probably how she ended up working here...”

“Hey Tiff!” A sleazy guy from across the pool area yelled as if on cue. “The fluffers are almost done with these guys. I am telling you, you have your work cut out today. You need lube, or you good?” The man glanced at Madison and Bryan. “Hell, maybe see if your man with the camera wants a turn on the other side of the lens... We all know there's plenty of Tiff to go around.”

“Wait!” Madison grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Can't you tell us anything about what happened to you? About what might have happened to the contestants on these tapes?” The former Trevor tried to pull her slender arm free. “What about the surgeries they did to you?”

“Surgeries?!” Tiff turned back to them, her eyes suddenly wide and very alert. “There were no surgeries! That's not what they did... They have this chair...no, a throne! They plug you into it, and turn you into whatever they want. It's like a dream. Wait, no...” She blinked rapidly and her cleavage heaved. “It's a fucking nightmare!”

Tell Tale

This is a new caption for my Mannequeen series. The rest of the story is on my index page

It started with a call from one of her confidential informants – not a conversation but fifty seconds of breathing and frantic tapping. Detective Lara Lake knew something was wrong the moment she entered Harry Federici's putrid apartment. Nothing but silence and fear greeted her and her heart thudded in her chest as she inched inside, her gun drawn. She found Harry in the bathroom – or rather what had become of him. She recognised him by the panic in his eyes and she had no doubt her former snitch was the latest victim of the Mannequeen.

Harry was staring into the mirror at his new form, soft pink lips parted in terror and one hand grasping at his throat. He was naked but for panties and stockings, and large round breasts, indistinguishable from the real thing hung freely. Lara had seen this before in the Mannequeen's victims – the initial shock of waking to find a female body where theirs had once been. Panicked hands that touched and pinched at every inch of skin, desperately looking for a way out, disbelieving at how real it felt. She spotted the tape recorder next to the sink.

“Hello, Detective Lake. I want to play a game. I am so enjoying this cat and mouse set up we have going on that I decided to leave you a lump of cheese...my dearest rodent. Harry, your dearest CI has been permanently sealed up inside one of my state-of-the-art bodysuits...” The naked figure at the sink started to tremble violently. “You may also notice that I have taken away his ability to speak. The once loose lipped Harry Federici will never again utter a single word. That is because what he has to say is not important. It is what you do next, Detective that will speak volumes.”

Lara looked up. The informant has begun frantically clawing at his black silk panties. Somehow it had taken him this long to realise it was indeed a fully female bodysuit. “The choice is yours Detective. You can take Harry in as the latest but by no means greatest victim of the Mannequeen. He will be processed and questioned and your clods will as always try every futile means of freeing him from his new body. He may no longer be able to talk but there are other ways to communicate. I wonder how your colleagues will react when he tells them of our special little rivalry... Or, Harry can be left to embrace his new life as a silent, but very sexy, lady of the night. The choice is yours, Detective, choose wisely.”

The tape ended and Lara's eyes met with the terrified informant's. He had been ready to turn evidence against a powerful mob boss, but this encounter was a step too far for his nerves. She thought for a moment and then brought her phone to her ear. “Hey, you still got a contact for Don Fabio? Yeah, tell him I've found one of his girls. Doesn't seem to speak English. I'll text you the address.” She put the phone away and looked back at Harry one last time. “I wouldn't bother putting on clothes. You probably won't be needing them...”  

 

So, what's next for my captions?

 You may have noticed that I just finished posting the last of my Season 7 captions. My seasons of captions are where I put my core stories involving all my biggest ideas and recurring series and characters. While I also post commissions and the odd impulse story midweek, along with a flashback caption on a Friday, I post my main captions every Sunday in blocks of 25 and then finish with a teaser for the next block of captions.

So, now that I am finished with Season 7 am I going back on hiatus for another couple of years?

NO!

I am just finishing up Season 8 and should be ready to start posting it by the end of the month. It is again 25 captions that I will post every Sunday, and is called "Making the Punishment Fit the Crime." Overall the stories have a bit of a recurring justice theme and included will be multipart stories featuring Femnonymous, Aiko, the Mannequeen, the Pink n Prissy Collective and Bimbo Note. Over the next few weeks I will be posting Flashback Fridays that will set up some of the main storylines as well as some other stories that feed into the Mannequeen and Aiko stories to come.