Season 8 Prologue - Lara Lake's Last Lament Part 1

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Starting out Season 8 with the Mannequeen

Each call out filled her with dread now. Each crackle of her police rover put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that this was it – the time that she would be made to finally lie in the bed she had made. That's why when Detective Lara Lake's radio came to life one shift and the dispatcher informed her of a possible Mannequeen incident in a mansion on the edge of town, she was instantly on edge. Was this where she would be made to pay for aiding and abetting the copycat that went by the moniker of the Cleaner.

The massive house was registered to a man called Wesley Tanner and when Lara discovered the moaning figure in one of the many upstairs bedrooms, she immediately knew two things; she had found Wesley, and this was indeed the work of the Mannequeen.

The woman on the bed wore only a skimpy underwear set and reeked of cum and perfume. Wesley groaned and looked up at Lara through eyes caked with heavy makeup as the detective drew her sidearm and looked around for signs of whoever had been ravaging the bodysuited Wesley – or worse still, the Mannequeen herself.

Entering the room, Lara had to bring her free hand to her mouth. What the hell was that perfume?! It was flowery and pungent like nothing she had ever smelled. And how much cum had been pumped into Wesley that she could still smell it in spite of the overpowering fragrance?! She entered the room and started to circle the perimeter, maintaining her back to the wall. The bimbofied tenant fixed her with his empty gaze and followed her position wordlessly, an ungodly blend of fear and lust—and she felt a premonition of her own future mirrored back at her.

The detective studied the used feminine creature and the bed covers tossed around her, all the while forcing herself not to choke on the fragrance. There was something missing, she realised? Where the hell was it?! The room spun, the walls seemed to close in just as the world she’d known had.

“Where is it?!” She raised her gun. “where's the tape-recorder?” She scowled as Welsey continued to stare at her with same blank expression. “Tell me where it is now!?” Panic was rising in her chest now. Something was wrong. There was always a tape – always a message to let the bodysuited victim know how screwed they were. Finally, the detective lost her patience. Holstering her weapon, she strode over to the bed and grabbed the figure by her bra-straps. “Where is the fucking tape..” she spluttered unable to speak as the perfume entered her lungs, overwhelming her, overpowering her. “Shit...” she gasped at last and fell unconscious onto the bed.

Whatever Happened to Robert? (The Apprentits)

 Robert last appeared on my Apprentits series - specifically this episode. All my Network captions are available on my index page.

“No sex in the champagne room,” The Juggernauts security guy said dryly as he lifted the velvet curtain for them to enter. “No cameras either!” He pointed to the device on Bryan's shoulder. “Come on, hand it over or you're not going in!” Bryan relieved himself of his equipment and followed Madison into the smoky room. The Frontline Entertain Media team were looking for another scoop ahead of the premier of the lost tapes of Femnonymous's perverted version of the Apprentits, and they were surprised to learn that a former Apprentits contestant was still working at a local strip joint. In the room a curvy bottle blonde wearing a black bra and thong underwear set swayed side to side on a pair of six-inch stilettos.

“I know you're here to interview me,” The woman purred from behind a face full of makeup. “But do you mind if I practice my routine while we talk? A prepared dancer is a well-tipped dancer!” Madison made a little surprised 'o' with her mouth but waved for the stripper to continue. “I suppose you're surprised I am still here after all these years... My forfeit on the show was only for a year after all.” The voluptuous woman who had once been Robert Williams, former child-star and losing contestant on the Network's Apprentits smiled wryly. “In some ways this is the best job I have ever had. The tips can be good too... Of course it helped that my trust fund was cut off after I apparently humiliated by family name on that freaking show.”

“Is it true the Network bought this club during the show just to force you to work in it?” Madison followed the sight of Robert's naked flesh as it gyrated and quivered before her. It was mesmerising to think this creature had once been masculine. “We've been interviewing Femnonymous victims over the past few weeks, and it's some freaky stuff. But what happened to you is just as extreme?”

“Oh yeah, they pulled no punches with me.” Robert said as he bent over with surprising agility and wrapped his arms around his calves, pushing his ass high in the air right in front of the two interviewers. “Of course, it's all Bryce Murphy's doing. He's the Network's CEO. Total psychopath. As you would imagine a guy who owns a line of game shows fixated on transforming men into women...into bimbos...” Robert put his hands on his knees and sank into a crouch. “You know he gets off on this stuff? Does that even surprise you? He visits the club sometimes too. Gets me to dance for him. He makes me feel like his own personal toy.” Robert finally stopped his routine and stood up high on his heels. “He brings his wife sometimes too. She's a bit of an airhead in her own way...a bit of drone. He has us do a bit of girl on girl. Not that I mind that bit – she's hot as hell... It's just...well, creepy. I know everyone thinks Bryce is crazy for wanting to release the Femnonymous tapes, but if you met the guy, you'd know it was right on brand.” He picked a bottle of champagne, popped the cork on it, and collapsed into one of the leather sofas. “We all know the Femnonymous show is going to be extreme – but Bryce is going to be watching with his ideas notepad in one hand and his dick in the other!”

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!”