Customer Serviced Part 1

 

“It's called the ShortStaqqed,” Chloe explained in a hushed tone. She still couldn't believe what she had just helped the other two women do and was feeling equal parts terrified and horny. She met each of their gazes and saw the fire in their eyes that she felt in her own. Smiling devilishly, she raised her glass of wine. “It's one of our off-brand options but it will do the job alright!” She gestured to the figure in the red latex lingerie sprawled on the rug between them, one eye still half-closed from the massive dose of tranquillizer. “He came in asking for UltraReal, of course. All our customers do. It's the only brand of bodysuit they know. But their safety record is terrible. Even my girl Felicity says so and she works for UltraReal. Hence, we don't stock them. A small independent sex shop like ours is just one lawsuit away from extinction.”

“Jack never did have much of an imagination,” Adrianna sighed. “Maybe if he did, he wouldn't have to resort to this kind of crap to get me into bed. He never did like being told 'no' either...”

“You can say that again...” Chloe snorted. “When I told him UltraReal was a 'no-go', he hit the roof – yelling and calling me useless bitch, even blaming me for him not being able to get laid. Fortunately for me, Jessie here was on hand with her phone out recording the whole thing.” She nodded to the third woman in their circle. “I don't know what he would have done if you weren't there. Of course, I didn't realise until afterwards she was your sister.”

“I went in to buy a dildo,” Jessie giggled, “but Jack wasn't the kind of giant dick I was looking for!”

“Come now, Jess...” Adrianna smirked. “Jack and 'giant dick' don't belong in the same sentence – trust me... And I too am glad you got the whole thing recorded. And, Chloe, I am more than grateful you were happy to share your stock with us and my dearest drugged husband.” She paused to watch the bodysuited Jack groan loudly as he continued to rouse from his stupor. “Why don't you tell us a little bit more about the 'ShortStaqqed'.?”

“Well, aside from the obvious...” Chloe began as Jack began to paw dumbly at the huge jiggly breasts attached to his chest. “Its unique selling point is its size-compression features. Regardless of how big the wearer is going in, they will always stand no more that a shade under five feet once it's sealed.” She laughed softly as Jack stared up at the ceiling as if it were too far away. “It is a submissive type suit and comes with app controls as standard to set the wearer's libido and obedience. Oh, and it has a full set of oral, vaginal and anal fleshlight inserts for easy penetration – though in this horny slut both the vaginal and anal inserts will be going straight into his ass...”

“What are you going to do with him?” Jessie gasped almost spilling her wine.

“I'm not going to do anything.” Chloe smiled. “I will leave that to our customers. I have a feeling we are going to sell a lot more ShortStaqqed bodysuits now that we have our own demo model!”

Gender Vendor

 25/25

George stared with a growing desperation through the glass of the vending machine at the rows upon rows of AquaLure bottled water. One of them held the elixir – the sole golden ticket back to his own body. The rest? Just gallons upon gallons of good old hydrating aitch two oh.

“Good thing you look like a girl who swallows!” The witch smirked from behind him. “Who knows how many of those you will have to drink before you get the right one. That's if one of these lovely people don't get it first....” The heavily tattooed woman in the sexy black bikini glanced around her at the busy local pool milling with people in bathing suits. “So, what's the plan? You can't just crouch there hissing at people all day to scare them away. This place does actually have security...”

For the first time that day, George didn't have a plan. In the morning, his plan had been to sleep until noon...and at noon his plan had been to visit his local swimming pool and steal valuables from the lockers as their owners frolicked in the water. It was when he broke into his fifth locker and found the sleek leather clothing and the creepy pendant that things started to go awry. The slender inked up girl had been none too pleased to catch him in the act and she had snatched the pendant from his grasp and screeched words in a language he didn't recognise.

That's how George came to be in the quiet corner next to the drinks machine – long blonde hair spilling over delicate tanned shoulders, a plump lipped pout on his face and a cute yet revealing chequered bikini on his butt. The girl had explained he could either remain as the sweet but sexy pool babe or find and drink the elixir from the vending machine. The problem being he had neither a clue which bottle held the keys to his escape nor the change to extract any of them from the machine.

“Hey!” George called out to a nearby man with greying hair. “Do you have any change?” The man just stared at him and George felt the need to add, “I'm really thirsty!” The older guy seemed to be ignoring his pleas so he tried one last desperate offer. “I'll show you my tits! Buy we some water and I'll let you feel them!” The man stormed off in disgust and George felt shame wash through him. He squatted down and tried to retrieve a bottle by reaching up through the machine's chute.

“I will get you some water!” George glanced over his shoulder to see a big man with dreads. “I will get you all the water you want. You do look so very thirsty!” George started to stand but the man put one hand out to stop him and tucked his other into the waistband on his shorts. “No, no you stay down there you pretty little thing. I will give you what you want if you give me what I want. You do look so very thirsty.” He repeated as he stroked the side of George's feminine face before clutching him just behind the ear. “And you look like a girl who swallows...”

Raising the Bar

 

Garth came from a family of lawyers. His father was a criminal defence attorney, his mother was in mergers and for the past six years Garth had been practising family law. It seemed inevitable that his younger sister, Kayleigh, would follow in the traditional – if only she could just pass the bar... When she came hammering on his door on the evening of her latest attempt, tears streaming down her face, his question was not whether she had failed – it was how did she know so quickly.

“It's all computerised now,” she explained in between gasping sobs. “You know your score right away. Oh, Garth, it's so unfair... You know I would have got it this time if it wasn't for Greg!” Greg was Kayleigh's long term boyfriend, who had ungraciously ditched her just two days before the prestigious exam, apparently realising that the long hours she had dedicated to studying the law was a sign of what was to come rather than a short-term hurdle to overcome. “I haven't been able to concentrate since he left... Oh, Garth, I can take a makeup test tomorrow but if I fail that, I can't retake for another year!” She buried her face in his shoulder. “There's no way I can pass the bar tomorrow,” she continued to cry before stopping abruptly. She pulled back from her brother and studied his face. “But...you can...”

The next day, Garth was sat at a laptop inside the exam room. Identical desks surrounded him signalling the smallest of mercies – he was the only person doing the makeup test today. Apparently his oath to hold up the law, not to mention his dignity, was no match for his fierce loyalty to his family and a pair of puppy-dog eyes. To Kayleigh's credit, she had done a sterling image recreating him in her image. As siblings, they were physically similar anyway, but a few pounds of cosmetics and a hastily bought wig had blurred the lines completely. When he had started to look through his sister's outfits for something sensible and conservative to wear, she had stopped him and insisted something suggestive just in case it could win favour with the examiners in some way, That's how he had ended up in a figure-hugging white dress with buttons down the front that frankly looked like it was missing the skirt. Completing the exam with one waxed leg crossed over the other felt absurd.

The biggest problem, however, was an unexpected one. Garth had passed the bar the first time six years ago, and he hadn't exactly maintained a broad understanding of the law while working in family court. The questions swam on the screen before him as he realised in horror that the exam was a lot harder than he had expected. He couldn't fail – not like this. He couldn't fail Kayleigh. Knuckling down, he tried to answer each question as carefully as he could and when finally he finished, he closed the laptop's lid and looked at the examiner expectantly.

“Such a close thing,” the man sighed walking down the center of the empty exam room. “Just a couple of marks in it...” He reached down to unzip his fly. “Which way though? Well...a sweet thing like you with a pretty mouth.” He smirked cruelly. “That's up to you...”

Whatever Happened to Claude? (Ex-Conned)

 This is a Flashback Friday for Ex-Conned

As a French guy, I am no stranger to stereotypes. In some cases, they are not only true, but I wear them like a badge of honour. For instance, I am both an excellent lover and a romantic. I have heard more women cry out “Claude” in bed than I can remember. I may be small, diminutive even, but I know how to please a woman. I can as easily charm a lady into creaming her panties and I can charm her out of them. This is how I got Zoe into bed after all.

I, however, do not embody all French stereotypes. For one thing, I do not give up easily. When Zoe's boyfriend, Kevin, was initially released from prison and came to live with us, I admit, I was frightened. You may remember that I agreed to disguise myself as a female student so that the notoriously jealous Kevin wouldn't dismantle my body. But in spite of everything, I didn't surrender.

It seemed inevitable that the thuggish Kevin would commit some new crime and return to prison before long – that, or Zoe would realise that his heavy-handed muscle didn't compare with the suave sophistication I had given her while her beau was in the grand maison and tell him to leave. When that happened, I needed to be ready. I needed to continue to be in the house. I needed to continue to be 'Claudette'.

Kevin's influence on both Zoe and the rest of the house was significant. Gone were the endless breakfasts in bed and the fireside discussions of poetry, and in were the endless parties and drinking. The house because a beacon for impossibly loud music and people I didn't recognise coming and going at all hours, and considering I couldn't maintain my closeness to Zoe by hiding in my room night and day, I had to adapt 'Claudette' accordingly.

It wasn't difficult to become a party girl. It's mostly just appearances – the brain fills in the rest. Tonight's outfit, for example, is doing lot of work. I wear it short to distract from the fact I have no tits (obviously), and I admit I completely reworked my gym routine to exclusively grow by legs and ass – oh, and enough makeup to hide the fact I am actually dying on the inside... My feminine voice isn't great but I find if I just lay the French on a bit thicker no-one raised an eyebrow...or bats an eyelash... Zoe called it a 'glow-up'. I call in hell.

The dress I am wearing tonight is actually a loaner from Zoe. The worst part is I know Kevin paid for it. It is this scrunchy faux-leather material that hugs my ass, which when I'm in heels looks absurdly good after my new stairmaster routine. I'm sitting here on the sofa to hide the fact I still suck at walking in heels – not that I want to talk to anyone at this party. It's just the best way to keep an eye on Zoe – to search for cracks in her relationship with Kevin.. The thing is I overheard some of his friends talking drunkenly. They were saying Kevin is looking to ask Zoe for a threesome...with me. Most of me would rather die, but there's a slither that thinks maybe this is a chance to maybe break them up. I'm still deciding how to play it, but I have already come this far for love...

A Stranger Shade of Black Part 4

“You must know we've been tracking your movements for over a year, Strange.” Commissioner Gordon snapped as he put his identification back in his jacket. Behind him a dozen uniformed officers were poised for action at his faintest command and Hugo Strange appeared totally unphased. They were in his domain and he was behaving completely at home in the basement suite of the Inflatable Factory. Suited hoodlums were strewn across velveted sofas while women with improbably curves and vacant expressions served them drinks. In one corner a game of pool was underway, in another some men played cards, and a single lane swimming pool stretched the whole way down one side of the basement.

“Why, Commissioner, whatever do you mean?” Strange waved one hand dismissively. “This is just a facility for building mannequins. I swear everything is above board. Feel free to take a look around.” Gordon appeared to oblige, scanning the faces of everyone in the basement. He paused his gaze on each of the women in case any of them were Batman's cover, Mara Black. He had met the nannite created beauty just once almost a year ago, but she had certainly left an impression on him and he was sure he would recognise her if he saw her again. “If we do notice anything suspicious, however...” Strange continued, drawing the Commissioner's attention back to him. “You can count on me to alert you immediately. I imagine you need all the help you can get now that the Batman is absent.” Gordon opened his mouth to respond but both men were interrupted by the buxom figure emerging from the near end of the pool.

Batman felt the heavy breasts bulge at his chest as he pulled himself up the pool steps. His wet hair felt odd as it sprayed over his shoulders. The synthetic blonde fibres that had been sewn into his scalp just last week looked like the real thing but it was scenarios like this where the difference could still be felt. It had been what his mind had told him his body needed – an impermeable feminine perfection, just like the pink makeup that had been tattooed onto his filler shaped features. The eyes of the hoodlums were all on him, each studying the surgery enhanced curves that spilled from his silver swimsuit from every angle, and so he turned to where Strange was talking to a group of police officers. He saw Commissioner Gordon and while Batman knew he would not be able to will himself to communicate, his heart leaped with the possibility of being recognised.

Gordon sighed as he laid eyes on the last of Hugo Strange's mannequins. The ridiculous looking bimbo was not even worth a second look and he knew that trying to interrogate her on the possible location of Batman would be as hopeless as the rest of the mind-controlled women they had spoken to. He began to signal to the officers that they were leaving.

“Ah, commissioner,” Hugo Strange raised a finger. “On the topic of finding anything suspicious – there was one thing.” He whispered something to one of the hoodlums, who produced something from his pocket. “One of my executives found this in the factory. I haven't the faintest idea what it does or where it came from.” Strange explained, holding out the item – a small pipette-like device with a tiny cracked LED screen.

 

A Stranger Shade of Black Part 3

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A Stranger Shade of Black Part 2

 

Something was different – Batman could tell immediately. He had only had his nannite induced female body a short while and yet he already knew it well enough to know something had changed. But what was it? He studied his slender arms and then slowly raised his hands to his face. No that wasn't it, yet he felt...something – in the shrug of his shoulders, in the way his arms passed his chest... An idea formed and he swiftly grabbed the hem of his dress and pulled it up over his head in a single movement. His hands immediately grasped his breasts. They were different...larger...fuller... They were the change he had sensed, but was what had changed physical? Neurological? Chemical? Perhaps all three? He continued to massage his bust and alarm sparked deep in the back of his mind. Retrieving the nannite inducer from his discarded dress, a small pipette-like device with a tiny screen, he pressed it into his forearm. 'TRANSFORMATION BLOCKED – GENETIC TEMPLATE COMPROMISED.' Crap...

“Impressive, aren't they?” Batman's head whipped up to greet the figure that had just entered the room. Hugo Strange himself stood in the doorway, a grin plastered across his face. The nannite inducer fell to the floor and the display instantly reset so only the date showed. Batman was astonished to see that two months had apparently passed since he had infiltrated the Inflatable Factory. But how was that possible? It had been just a few days... “Well?” Hugo Strange prompted. “Do you like them?”

“What have you done to me?” Batman demanded calmly, allowing his arms to fall to his sides so that his new breasts were fully exposed to the villain before him. “And can it be reversed?”

“Reversed?” Hugo Strange chuckled. “My dear, there is nothing to reverse. I haven't done anything to you...not to your breasts anyway. You did that. I merely gave your brain a problem it desperately needed to solve. That's the fascinating part of this new project of mine. The transformation isn't imposed on the victim...sorry, subject – the subject's own neurological architecture demands the changes to accommodate the suggestions it has been receiving. That part was me admittedly...” Strange held up his hands in mock guilt. “But I assure you, my Dear, it was you who scheduled and went through with the addition of those splendid implants. The body is surprisingly cooperative. Give the mind a sufficiently convincing reality and the body eventually stops asking questions.” He paused and studied Batman thoughtfully, who was watching him like a hawk about to strike its prey. “May I make an observation? You're remarkably composed for a young woman who has just found out she is being mind-controlled into a life as a bimbo.” He looked Batman up and down from his stockinged legs to his long glossy hair and back again. “You've no doubt noticed the tattoos too and yet you say nothing. You are calculating. Fascinating! Most of my mannequins have begged for mercy by this stage..you just look like you want to destroy me. Well, you should know...” Hugo turned to leave the room. “The question is not 'can you stop me?' It is can you stop yourself transforming yourself before there is nothing of what you began with that remains. 'Mara Black', wasn't it? I think I am going to enjoy watching your journey!”