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...

Whatever Happened to Jonas? Part 3 (Bad Day at the Office)

 

Jonas tried half-heartedly to hold his trench coat closed as he reached for his ringing phone. The evening breeze seemed determined to begin his evening striptease before he had even learned his assignment and with summer now well on the way, there were plenty of people passing by to expend their disapproval and lust in equal measures. With it being a Friday, Jonas was on call the same way a surgeon or detective might be. It was inevitable the agency would get a call from a gaggle of horny women and when they did, it would be relayed to him. Hence, he was dressed in anticipation – his coat hiding the black lingerie set that held his hormone bloated body.

“We got one, Honey!” A sultry woman addressed him as he answered the call. “They are requesting your speciality.” Jonas grunted a response. He was earning more money than he had ever before – sometimes hitting twenty jobs a week now that his niche had reached peak popularity, and yet every new assignment felt like a stiff kick in his shrunken balls. “You're going to have your hands full,” the woman from the agency explained. “It sounded like a big party and they seemed like they were more than a few beverages in. The good thing is it helped us sell them quite a few extras.”

“Extras?” Jonas gulped. His voice was soft, another side-effect of the treatments the agency were pushing him to use. The wind was getting up again and his now grown-out hair was blowing in his face so he switched the phone his other hand and pressed a stiletto into the gate he had been leaning on. “What extras?”

“Toys mostly.” The woman replied. “A courier is taking them to the venue for you. Most of the usual stuff. A couple of strap-ons – sounds like they want the bride and maid-of-honor to Eiffel Tower you. Seems the Honeymoon will be in Paris. Also, apparently one of the bridesmaids is a real exhibitionist. She wants you to screw her.” Jonas's heart leapt into his throat. “So, we have included a silicone sheath for you. Our physio advised that you are unlikely to be able to maintain an erection with the treatments you are on, so this will be your replacement. You will attach it over your panties and use it just like the real thing – except of course there will no feeling, for you of anyway.” Jonas was silent on the end of the line. “There is one more thing...”

“What?” Jonas said coldly as he felt his last shreds of dignity ebb away.

“They ordered a big finish.” The woman said coolly. “Some of the women wanted one of our other products instead. One of the male ones... He's going to show up a couple of hours after you. Only, well, the girls ask that you stay around for the rest of the party as one of the guests. They were very excited about this part. Sounds like they have some party games in mind – blindfolding the guy and making him guess whose mouth he is in, things like that. Sounds like you are going to have a lot of fun tonight!”

The Apprentits Lost Tapes Part 1

 4/25

Angela learned three things in the first ten minutes after they were herded from the boat onto the island. There were cameras everywhere filming their every move. They had each been fitted with neuro-chips that would ensure their absolute compliance. Only one of them would be leaving as anything but a caricature of femininity stretched to bursting point with silicone.

There were six of them, all producers working for the Network on their gameshows in what was now surely a former life, and now stripped naked and sizzling in the tropical sun. There was Martin, broad-shoulders and confident – a leader in every way except having actual authority. Jason was the production team's resident joker - everything was a game to him and he had laughed endlessly at the predicaments the Network's contestants found themselves in. Angela wondered if he found humour in their current situation. Chris was the youngest of the group – barely more than a intern really and extremely introverted.

Then there were the girls. Hannah was the team Mom. She was their shoulder to cry on when life got stressful and the supplier of endless office snacks. Angela hated her endless optimism and bubbly nature. Celia on the other hand was you typical career climber – she acted friendly but there was no doubt she would stab you in the back if it came down to you or her. And then there was Angela – the brown haired betrayer of the Network and architect of Femnonymous's claiming of its employees as their playthings.

Angela wondered if they had actually fitted her with a compliance chip. Her alliance didn't need to be coerced. She had brought down the Network's shows from the inside – her sabotage instigating the raid. So why was she being used as a ringer like this? Why did Femnonymous need her as a contestant in their extreme version of the Apprentits? Surely, it was to guarantee that the five real Network producers got the bimbo transformations they deserved. Angela couldn't wait.

Tall athletic amazons dressed in black latex dresses led them to their first game. In a copy of the opening round from the Network's version of the Apprentits, it was to be a product pitch. Only in Femnonymous's twist they were all nude and the products in question were all sex toys. The six producers were split into two teams – Angela was matched with the trembling office Mom, Hannah, and Martin the wannabe team leader, with Celia standing tall between the other two guys. As they were breaking off into their teams, two of the latex clad women approached them, each holding three small syringes. They were doses of potent aphrodisiacs and would need to be injected before either team could start their pitch.

Angela watched as their three opponents gingerly collected a syringe and after some hesitation injected themselves in the arm. A hushed silence grew and Angela glanced from their syringes to Martin. She smirked softly before scooping up all three syringes and plunging them straight into Hannah's right shoulder.

The chemical was fast acting and within ten minutes the former team Mom was a cross-eyed drooling mess on the floor furiously debasing herself with an assortment of dildos and plugs while Angela and Martin stood over her competently explaining the features of each toy, pausing occasionally to allow Hannah's howling orgasms to punctuate their claims.

With their turn over, it was time to enjoy the show. Their opponents performed not so much a pitch but rather an orgy. Angela sincerely enjoyed watching the once cool and ambitious Celia be bent over and frantically pounded from either end by Jason and Chris. She struggled to stifle her laughter as the usually bookish Chris mounted her from behind and followed up his pistoned thrusts with hard spanks across her ass. Her delirious moans were muted by Jason's throbbing cock buried deep in her throat and the team clown cackled wildly as he screwed her mouth with abandon. It was Jason who came first, shooting his hot load deep inside Celia and causing her to choke slightly even as she screamed out her own orgasm. Very shortly, all three lay in sweaty panting pile – very much the losers of the first game.

That was the first time the contestants saw the 'throne' – a terrifying dentist chair-like contraption that rose from the floor intimidatingly. One of the latex clad women pointed at Jason and even in his state of exhaustion, his eyes went wide with horror. He got up to run but his compliance chip was activated, and with a strained look on his face, he climbed into the throne. Shackles snapped shut over his wrists and ankles and tubes began to slide out of the chair's surface and attach themselves all over his body. There was as gurgle as a viscous fluid began to flow freely into his body and the other five producers watched on it terror as it warped and expanded Jason's body beyond recognition.

Jason had always played the clown, and though he saw the irony in his predicament, the punchlines escaped him. He had blacked out on the throne and when he finally came to, his new life awaited him. The compliance chip ensured his swift integration into his role at the sperm back. It quelled his complaints and ensured his obedience. The vision of Celia's bug eyes as he shot hot spunk down her throat replayed over and over in his mind as he attempted to free himself from his bimbo prison. It was hopeless. He had been transformed into an absurdly proportioned blonde doll and compelled to use his new assets again and again to bring rich men to orgasm by any means necessary at an elite sperm depository. His breasts were enormous, his cock was gone, and his ridiculous pink uniform hugged both. He saw the nurses smirk as he wrapped his slender fingers around dick after dick, enticing them further with his bloated lips, and pumping them until they blew their load into glass recepticals - as he had blown his load into Celia to become the deranged game's first loser. There were no more jokes for him to make now. He was the only punchline necessary.

Whatever Happened to Jonas? Part 2 (Bad Day at the Office)

 

Everyone has a bad day at the office now and again. Jonas had suffered two terrible days at work separated by ten years. He could probably convince himself that the two humiliating nightmares that each ended with him tasting another man's cock could be balanced out by the hundreds of parties in between that resulted in him screwing, often multiple at a time, horny bachelorette party-goers. He had fulfilled many the fantasy of a sexy young woman – whether that be a firefighter, pilot or even the classic gunslinger, all while satisfying his own desires. Jonas was a jack of all trades, and he could get laid dressed as any of them. At least, he had been able to...

A lot had changed in the last ten years of Jonas's stripping career. The internet had gained strength exponentially, and his agency, once resigned to advertising in the backs of dirty magazines, had a full-fat social media marketing machine backing it up. The agency's brand lived and died on the online reviews left by the guests visited by its strip-o-grams so when a five star celebration of Jonas's humiliation at the hands of the remarrying bachelorette and stiff cock of one of her male friends went viral on OnlyFemmes, the agency were quick to exploit it. They didn't care how Jonas was debased by the entire experience - he was just a stripper, and so when the calls came flooding in from horny young women to order a man they could dress in lingerie and have dance for them, they accepted the bookings with open arms and open wallets. It was just another costume, right?

Jonas emerged from behind the curtain to begin his fifth job that weekend. He stared past the crowd of hollering women with dead eyes – including the maid of honor that had dutifully informed him he'd be stripping in wedding lingerie. She had supplied it in an over-stuffed satchel as he arrived and he really didn't think it was going to fit, but of course it had. As soon as it had become clear that these were going to be the type of bookings he was going to be doing for the near future, the agency had sternly suggested he 'drop a dress size' and even given a few boxes of pills that promised to soften and round his figure. Jonas wasn't sure they had but they had definitely shrunk his dick in a way that made the kinds of panties like the tiny white lace pair he was currently wearing, no problem at all. What was he supposed to say?! No – with a resume full of taking his clothes off and slinging cock into drunk party-goers?

The women began to clap in unison and Jonas lifted one hand to his wig. It wasn't glued on this time but his predicament meant it was fastened just as tightly. The lingerie clung to his newly curvy figure and even his inexperienced body could tell it was expensive – all silk and lace caressing his arms, legs and butt. The maid of honor was holding a selfy-stick in one hand and a weird looking bouquet in the other, and had broke away from the thirsty crown to approach him.

“This is for the next part of the show...” She leaned in to whisper in his ear and handed him the bouquet. Up close, Jonas could see what was odd about it – a large dildo and harness had been inserted between the flowers. “It's a joke.” The maid of honor smiled sweetly. “The groom is a bit of a sissy so we're going to use this on you to tease the bride.” Jonas flushed red and stared in horror at the crowd behind her clapping expectantly. “Naturally, the bride will get a go eventually. But, throw that thing in my direction and I promise to easy you in gently.”

Painted Target (an Aiko Story)

 3/25

“Okay, let me see what affect my training has had on your exquisite work, and especially how you choose your victim,” Aiko smiled sweetly at the visibly excited Liza. She started to step into the room, but stopped suddenly at the sight of a bearded young man stood in the doorway alongside her friend. “And, who is this?” Aiko's eyes moved back and forth between Liza and the man.

“Oh, this is Jay,” Liza paused. “My boyfriend! But, you can meet him later. Come, I really want to show you my work!” Liza led Aiko into the room and they both appraised its occupant. A pink creature sat on a love seat, a lollipop in one hand and its face slathered in makeup and fear. “This is the bully formerly known as Kane!” Liza announced proudly and the boy shrank into the pink satin dress he was wearing. “I caught him pushing some kids around in the park,” she stroked the blonde locks on his head that had the synthetic sheen of a wig. “So, I pretended to join in. I gave him one of my lollipops, pretending I had taken it from one of the kids, and, well, the rest is history!” She grinned widely at her victim and then back at Aiko.

“Well done, my Sweetheart!” Aiko beamed. “It seems you have painted a worthy target. “I look forward to seeing how you make him earn another of those lollipops.”

Kane shuddered from his place on the seat. His whole body throbbed and itched. He was sweating buckets into the pink satin panties that Liza had forced him into and his mouth was a dry as a desert. There was clearly some kind of drug in the lollipop, but he was helpless to resist it. The moment the first one had touched his lips, he knew he would need more, and boy had the girl called Liza made him earn it. But, why was she saying he was a bully? That wasn't true at all!? There hadn't even been any kids in the park – just him and a few of his friends throwing a ball around. It wasn't even him who hit that guy Jay with the ball, but Liza had flown off the handle at him right away – shouting and screaming. And then...nothing. She had just stopped like some kind of crazy person. Then apologised and given him a lollipop. If only he had known.

Jay was the real bully. He could tell by how much he clearly enjoyed watching him squirm. As Liza had applied the lip gloss, he had laughed and called him names and then when she had waxed his legs, Jay kept throwing the balled up used strips at his head. But, why lie to this other girl...Aiko? She was clearly in on it – the leader even maybe. And, why had Jay looked at her that way when she turned up. That look like Aiko was the lollipop that he wanted to taste...needed to taste.

Whatever Happened to Jonas? Part 1 (Bad Day at the Office)

 This is a three part Flashback Friday to Bad Day at the Office

Jonas cut a forlorn figure in the mirror. His hands clasped and elbows pressed into the glass, he prayed silently to disappear. Yet when he opened his eyes, the same reflection stared back. After all these years, he had once more been feminised...humiliated...degraded... He couldn't believe this was happening again.

Something had felt off from the moment he had arrived. Bursting through the apartment door to a fanfare of cap-gun fire and sirens while dressed in a rubberised cop uniform, he had not been greeted with the usual face of the mildly embarrassed bride to be and her mischievous cavalcade of bachelorettes – just a crowd of cold expectation. He recognised some of the women, but couldn't place them – at least not until it was too late.

Jonas gazed down in horror at his body – his legs wide and tense like a gunslinger as they fought to hold his balance on the towering stripper heels that had been glued to his feet. As a strip-o-gram, albeit usually a male one, his body had already been shaved hairless and toned, and made a perfect canvas for the women. By now it seemed they had perfected their craft.

They were the same women that had transformed him all those years ago. The bride had divorced her first husband – lucky bastard thought Jonas, and was now remarrying. Her recycled crew of bridesmaids had reassembled and tracked down the poor stripper they had humiliated the first time round for a rehashed bachelorette party, and now Jonas was enjoying that experience about as much as one enjoys ten year old wedding cake.

“Turn around, you dirty ho!” A drunk female voice cackled from across the room. “Come on, put on a show for us!” Jonas groaned and slowly began to face them. He actually wished he could strip for them – wished he could rip off the shoes, the stockings, the wig, the garter, but the women had applied liberal amounts of glue to all the garments they had pulled onto his body as multiple strong hands held him in place. A larger blonde woman had then sat on his chest as the adhesive set. They had since doused him in perfume to hide the glue smell, but Jonas knew it was there. He could tell from the way the fabric tugged painfully at his skin with every movement.

“Dance for us, bitch!” The bride snarled as Jonas strutted over on stiff legs. She was not the horny young woman that had glued a blonde wig to his scalp ten years ago – divorce had twisted her into something cruel and spiteful. She hiked up her mini-skirt and held one hand above her panties expectantly. “I didn't think you would...” She shook her head. “But then again, you didn't at my first party either. What was it you did instead..?” As if on cue, two of the other women led a huge muscle bound man into the room – a grin was plastered across his face. Something struck Jonas across the backs of his legs and he fell to his knees. “No car this time...” The bride shrugged, sliding her hand into her panties as the large man strode towards the prone stripper. “But I'm sure this will still feel familiar...”

The Legend of Harlot's Creek Part 7

 

At first Mikey and Patrick just stood and watched as the Harlot consumed her meal. As they had been, Zeke and Paul were disoriented by the their new forms but the more they examined their new bodies, both their own and each others, the more frantic their movements became and before long each were tenting the bottoms of their bodysuits with stiff erections. The dark woman smiled and guided Zeke's face briefly to Paul's lips and then to his breasts, grinning as Paul reciprocated by pulling the zipper down on his bodysuit. Mikey breathed heavily as he watched the Harlot pull the former men down by their hair until both their faces were above her naked sex, and he felt something on his hip. Patrick's hand held his softly and they locked eyes. There was still shame passing between but also acceptance and after a moment's pause, they embraced and began to undress.

Once she had got her fill, the Harlot snapped her fingers and the mansion reappeared – not as the wreck it had been but as a glittering replica of how it must once have looked. “Remember, I can give you paradise...” She said coldly and left her four pets in a large ornate games room complete with a vintage pool table, shuffleboard and a fully stocked mahogany bar.

“I think you should get used to this...” Mikey sighed and looked down at the two brand new woman, who were still panting from the successive orgasms the Harlot had ripped from them. Their breasts quivered with each shuddering breath they took and their whole bodies glistened with sweat. Mikey turned his back on them, picked up two pool cues from a rack and tossed one to Patrick. “Paradise isn't so bad...” He sent the balls careering around the table with several dropping in the pockets while his friend observed, biting the soft pink of his lower lip. Behind them, Zeke and Paul were clambering to their feet and, after some hesitation, decided that the sexy bodysuits were slightly better than walking around naked. Mikey took another shot, pocketing another ball. He lined up the cue again and shot the white ball across the table. A hand came down stopping it in its path. It was Paul.

“What the hell is this?” He screamed, leaning over the table. “What have you done to us? I'm a... I'm a... woman!?” Zeke joined him at the pool table and both of them leant over it menacingly towards Mikey and Patrick. “And why I am I so...horny?!” He closed his eyes and breathed in heavily. Zeke's glare left them as he turned his eyes to his friend's. There was a yearning in them...a hunger. They were both breathing heavily now...panting.

“It isn't so bad...” Mikey soothed, exposing his big round tits. “It really can feel like paradise...” He mounted the pool table and began to guide Paul's face into his chest as he had seen the woman do. The little resistance there was quickly melted away as Paul groaned, helpless to his desires. “Besides, the more guys we bring back here for the Harlot...the more of us there will be to enjoy it...”

The Legend of Harlot's Creek Part 6

 

After the romp on the fantasy beach, it could have been easy to forget it was winter in Harlot's Creek. The sun was setting over the sea by the time the woman clicked her fingers again. Mikey and Patrick had once more been her playthings, but this time instead of merely watching, she had got her hands on her toys. The boys now trapped in their voluptuous female forms had first served her with their mouths – after letting them sample her breasts, she had removed her tiny bikini bottoms and they had pleasured her sex and ass. When finally they had entered her with their stiff cocks, they had done so as her submissives. They were pushing themselves into her desperately but she was truly in control, milking them with her body for her satisfaction.

“Find me more...” The woman whispered as Harlot's Creek rematerialised around them. “I have so much paradise to give. Find me more to share it with.”

In was morning when Mikey and Patrick left the house. They were still girls, now dressed in figure-hugging fur-trimmed black snowsuits, but the mansion was once again a ruined shell. The night's escapades had robbed them of their lust for the time being and they trudged silently with unspoken shame. They had shared more in the last few hours than two friends ever should and worse still, they knew they would be doing so again before long. Even as they walked in the morning gloom, Mikey's eyes flitted to his friend's ass and fantasy swirled his brain and into his loins.

“So, how are we going to find more?” Patrick muttered once they were off the grounds. “We're going to do it, right? I don't want to...but I need to. I need more.” Mikey didn't reply - he knew exactly what his friend meant. As it happened, finding new subjects for their ghostly mistress was surprisingly easy. After a long day of walking around trying to suppress their desires they walked by a pub on the road that ran alongside the creek. Two men were standing outside smoking.

“You two look like you need someone to keep you warm!” One of the men called out as they passed. Mikey averted his eyes coyly and very soon they were leading the men back towards the mansion. Every few minutes Patrick would glance back at them, his eyes promising the same thing the mysterious woman had – paradise. They had introduced themselves as Zeke and Paul, but the boys knew that within the hour their old identities would be meaningless.

The Harlot was once again in the courtyard though this time she ignored Mikey and Patrick as if they no longer interested her. She only had eyes for Zeke and Paul now. As before she snapped her fingers and the castle melted away until only the snow remained. The boys watched Zeke and Paul melt too, shrinking into delicate feminine figures – Paul became a full lipped brunette in a white bodysuit that barely contained a pair of huge breasts, and Zeke morphed into a slender woman with frosty hair in a tight black outfit. Once the transformation was complete, the mistresses latest creations slumped against one another with exhaustion.

“And now...” The Harlot shot Mikey and Patrick a satisfied glance, acknowledging them for the first time since they had returned with her gift. “...We feast!!”

The Legend of Harlot's Creek Part 5

 

Mikey and Patrick lay exhausted in a puddle of the their own sweat and juices. The leopard print catsuits had long been shredded and discarded, ripped off their curvy bodies and thrown to one side like what they were – obstacles to their pleasure, flimsly lycra barriers to all the thrusting, licking and pounding they could muster from their voluptuous bodies. And now they were spent, seemingly endless orgasms having been ripped from them – from Mikey inside Patrick, from Patrick inside Mikey, from being wrapped around each other in a desperate, bucking version of a sixty-nine, their inexperienced, alien bodies acting on impulse to drive them to be moaning, groaning ecstasy riddled messes of girls. Yet everything must come to an end, and when their cocks finally went limp, their lust dulled, they collapsed onto each other as the woman in black stood over them watching – satisfied.

“We're done!” Mikey gasped. “Enough!” He tried to sit and perspiration poured off his chin and onto his bare breasts. “You said we were yours as long as we were horny. Well...” He lifted his flaccid penis with one finger and let it fall. “We don't want any more.”

“Silly boy!” The tall dark figure cackled, her robes billowing around her. “Your bodies may have had enough...for now, but they aren't really your bodies, are they? They are mine! It's your minds that count. Have they had enough? Can you really say they don't want more?” The woman snapped her long slender fingers and the grassy courtyard disappeared to be replaced by a picture perfect beach. The ruined catsuits were gone too and as Mikey and Patrick slowly climbed to their feet, they found that they were now dressed in skimpy tops, and while Mikey wore booty shorts, Patrick's ass was glad in a tiny pair of bikini bottoms. “See how easy it is for me to give you paradise?” The woman asked, now standing before them in a miniscule black bikini. She snapped her fingers again and colourful drinks appeared in the former boys' hands. “I can give you so many different types of paradise!”

“You can't...” Patrick started but already his resolve was melting in the hot sun. He felt himself stiffen in the bikini bottoms. The woman terrified him but he couldn't ignore the way the shiny material clung to her curves, or the way the sunshine reflected in her firm pale skin. Something soft touched his hand and he looked down to see Mikey pushing his soft fingers between his. Clearly, Mikey was beginning to feel stirrings too.

“So much paradise...” The woman reached behind her back and suddenly her bikini top was falling to the sand exposing her round breasts. Mikey stepped forward and she guided his mouth to one of her nipples, gripping his cock beneath the booty shorts with her spare hand. Already Patrick was stepping forward to join them. “All the paradise you can desire...” The woman whispered. “All you have to do is bring me more like you...”

Double Shift

 2/25

Detective Collier pulled the unmarked sedan into the strip mall lot and killed the engine. “You’re kidding me,” he muttered, staring at the storefront wedged between a laundromat and a vape shop. A pink neon sign buzzed faintly above the door: “Maison de Plaisir — Maid Café” The windows were frosted, the glass painted with cartoonish lace trim. It would have looked ridiculous if Finn hadn’t just seen a mansion full of broken men in French maid uniforms.

Pam checked her phone one last time, scrolling through the surveillance stills that Vice had managed to pull. “Same uniforms. Same hairstyles. We think she rotated some of the mansion victims out here.”

Finn rubbed his temple. “So what—you’re telling me she’s running a front business? Like… what, normal customers come in here for lattes and cake while these poor guys prance around in heels?”

Pam’s expression was grim. “Exactly that. Customers assume it’s a gimmick. Half the city thinks it’s cosplay. Nobody looks past the makeup. These guys would have been working shifts until the cows came home if one of the customers hadn't recognised their missing husband.”

They stepped inside. A tinkling bell announced them, and the smell of sugared coffee and baked goods hit like a wall. The interior was absurdly bright—pastel walls, frilly tablecloths, and chirpy pop music humming from hidden speakers.

And then the “staff” appeared. “Welcome, Masters~!” sang a chorus of delicate voices. Five waitresses lined up near the counter, their curtseys rehearsed to perfection. But Finn’s gut twisted.

Pam whispered under her breath. “Christ. Look at them…” A blonde maid broke from the line and trotted toward their table, clipboard pressed to her frilly apron. Her posture was immaculate, her high-pitched greeting flawless, but her gaze lingered too long on Finn, pleading, begging, before snapping back into trained cheerfulness.

Finn forced himself to breathe. “They’re working here,” he muttered. “Not chained. Conditioned enough to serve coffee to strangers like nothing’s wrong.” The afternoon passed showly as the detectives supervised while police officers processed the brainwashed maids one by one and transported them back to the station. Finally, just two remained. “What's their story?” Finn nodded to a nearby policeman. The final two maids were dressed in the same satin apron and stockings as the rest of their colleagues, but these two had locked lips and seemed not to be willing to separate any time soon.

“Poor bastards!” The officer shook his head. “They must have gone through hell. My guess is whatever the Governess put them through drove them together - all that mind fuckery distorted into something else. We're going to have to process them together.” The man looked up at Finn and Pam and removed his police cap. “You need to catch this bitch fast...or God help us all!”

Whatever Happened to Eric? (Keys to the Queendom)

 

Madge stepped out of her house with a smile on her face. Life was good – the sun was out, her hangover was mild, and she had got laid the night before. The guy wasn't submissive – not all of her partners were, but the thought of the previous evening's sex made her think of Eric, and her attention was drawn to the sorority house across the street. Six months had passed since that night the girls had let her stay over after forgetting her keys, and while she had returned since – she was basically an honorary member after all, it had been some time since she had checked in on her former toy – on her gift to them.

The sister that opened the door to Madge's knock smiled knowingly and led her inside. They walked to a communal sitting area where a voluptuous figure in a latex French maid's outfit was bent over a sofa – her underwear showing from beneath the too short petticoats.

“You'll recognise the feather duster, of course.” The sister chuckled. “But we have made some other alterations.” The maid looked back at them standing in the doorway through heavily made-up eyes with an expression of suspicion. The sorority had indeed put their own stamp on Eric's appearance. “Colleen's gimp suit definitely helped break him down into something we could mould, but we just couldn't keep him hidden underneath it forever. Besides, Colleen needed it for breaking her boyfriend – with our help of course.” Madge nodded approvingly. “We used everything you taught us about controlling weak men, and Eric here is very week. The chastity cage gives us almost complete power over him. He is so desperate... Surrounded by a house full of party girls like us... We don't even wear bras half the time... And the cage keeps him totally impotent... All we have to do is loosen it a little so he can get the tiniest of boners, and he is putty in our hands...ironically. Once he is milked, he is helpless. Hell, he is always helpless.”

“He's even taking the hormones we're putting in his food.” The head sister joined them in the room. “Just look how round his ass has got! I am telling you – that's not just from walking around in six inch heels all day. It's enhanced! It feels so good clapping against me when I use my strapon!” The three girls watched Eric blush bright red, even beneath the caked on cosmetics. “Oh, Darling, don't be shy! I know you you enjoy it from those cute little squeals you make as I am thrusting in and out of you. I bet Madge knows what I am talking about!”

“Oh, Madge!” The first girl exclaimed. “You really must join us for a sleepover. I know you let us keep Eric, but he will always be yours in a way. Tonight we're bringing in Colleen's ex-boyfriend to have a little girly fun with him – a little maid-on-maid. How about you join us? See if either of them can earn a little slack on their chastity cages? I know you still have a copy of Eric's key.”

Keys to the Queendom Part 2

 

Needless to say, the sorority sisterhood were enthusiastic students. They watched rapt as Madge walked them through everything she knew. How to spot weak men... How to make them serve them... How to make them scream in pain... How to make them scream with pleasure... And when to use each of those skills. Eric was her demonstration object throughout and, reduced to his feminised form, Madge made him beg and crawl for the group of girls, and when he failed to comply fast enough, she spanked him hard across him pantied ass. She showed them forced kissing, gripping his face firmly with one hand to squeeze his glossed lips apart before shoving her tongue deep into his mouth while arching him backwards. Once her demo was complete, she had the sisters line up to have their own turns and Eric would have been aroused by the experience of having girl after girl make out with him had his tiny chastity cage allowed for it.

Next, Madge turned him over to the sorority so they could try out their own ideas. Various props were produced from dorms including a paddle that they used for initiations and Eric was draped over a knee while they lined up to swat him in a mock welcome to their sisterhood. Finally, it began to get late and the excitement began to die down. Just as Eric began to think his ordeal might be ending, one of the smaller, quieter girls approached Madge with a large tote bag.

“This is all stuff my boyfriend gets me to wear sometimes.” She started to pull out black shiny material. “I don't mind too much...but I have always felt like I would prefer to be the one in control, you know? Be the domme?” The girl continued to remove the items including some silver chains and a large feather duster, and the interest of many of the other girls piqued once more as they began to gather around. Eric wanted to run but he was once again surrounded. Madge dropped a firm hand on his shoulder and chuckled softly.

It took nearly an hour and an entire tub of baby powder to cram him into the black latex catsuit. An entire team of girls worked on him – two held his arms tightly, one sat on his stomach while two more dragged the shiny material up his legs. The fabric squeezed him mercilessly and it was tough to breathe even before the corset was added and laced closed. Shackles were added to his wrists and ankles and locked in position so that he couldn't move them more than a few inches. When the girls lifted him to his feet, he realised they had added a pair of high-heels and he swayed like a tall tree in a strong wind. He was too busy trying not to fall to prevent the sisters pulling the latex hood with the built-in gag over his head and then feeding his hair through the back.

“Well, well, well...” Madge cackled looking her boyfriend up and down. “And I thought I knew everything.” She screwed the feather duster carefully into the gag and took a step back. “I have an idea – how about my sweet little Eric stays here with you while I go and fetch my keys tomorrow? I think it would be rude to leave without giving your house a thorough cleaning now that he is dressed for it!” Eric's heart pounded and his eyes went wide. He tried to walk towards Madge but his ankles were chained to his corset with almost no slack whatsoever. The girls giggled in unison – they all knew he was going nowhere.

Keys to the Queendom Part 1

“So, why exactly should we help you again?” The stony-faced girl stood with her arms folded in the front doorway of the sorority house – her sisters crowded behind her, not a shred of sympathy shared between the lot of them. As always, Eric shrank next to his girlfriend, but Madge, ever the dominant one in their relationship didn't back down.

“Look, kid...” Madge began with a condescending tone. “You might go to college in this town, but I actually live here. Right over there actually.” She pointed at a large house across the street. “However, I have been away all week visiting this little runt at college...” She smacked Eric hard across the backside for emphasis. “...And I have somehow left my keys behind. Look, it's getting late and I will go get my keys tomorrow. But we need a place to stay tonight.” Her voice trailed off uncharacteristically and the college girl continued to stare sternly at them. “Hey!” She raised her arms in an appeal gesture. “I'm a girl...you're all girls...what d'ya say? Solidarity for the sisterhood?”

“He's not a girl!” One of the girls from the back of the group called out and an arm pointed at Eric from over the shoulder of the head sister blocking the entrance. He blushed deep red. He hated being singled out and though he was silently begging for Madge to step in on his behalf, he was already dreading where this might be heading.

“Ladies...ladies...” Madge raised her palms appeasingly. “It seems you may be misreading our situation slightly. Yes, I did forget my house keys. Actually, I forgot all of my keys.” She gripped Eric's shoulders firmly but all he felt was a fist clenching his stomach. Please. no... “All of them...including...” Quick as a flash, Madge released his shoulders and grabbed the waistband of his pants, yanking them to his knees along with his underwear. The eyes of the sorority sisters widened in unison as their collective mouths dropped open at the sight of the tiny locked cage cradling Eric's genitalia. “Let us stay the night...” Madge shrugged. “And what's mine is yours...”

Two hours later Eric was standing at the bottom of the steps down into the basement of the sorority house – deep in the throes of his worst nightmare. He enjoyed playing the submissive to Madge's dominant side – they were the roles the couple fell into naturally anyway, but this was something else entirely. The sisterhood had been mesmerised by his girlfriend's control over him and ownership of his crotch, and were now hanging off Madge's every word as she taught them everything she knew about how to dominate boys and even how to turn their basement into some kind of kinky sex dungeon. The girls were not without talents of their own and had persuaded Madge to let them give him a makeover. Unsurprisingly, a house full of horny fashion majors had no problem turning his feeble build and delicate features against him and he now stood before them in a black vest top and a tiny checked skirt, his caged cock encased in pink panties and his hair tied in pigtails.

“You must show us more,” the girl who had previously blocked the entrance to the house begged Madge. “Please – you must have so many hot little games for controlling boys.” She glanced at Eric as if he were a prop and his chest tightened. “Show us everything!”

 

Model Citizen

 1/25

Alex brought a hand to his face and fingered the tiny scar behind his ear where the tiny device whirred away. It was one of the few things the mesh allowed him to do by himself – one of the few things it trusted him to do. A fleeting moment...and then it ended as quickly as it began and the mesh regained control, stretching his plump pink lips into a smile at the black suited man across the table. The restaurant was full of people but none of them looked at Alex and saw anything but an attractive young woman dining with a well-dressed man. They didn't see the device implanted behind his left ear. They didn't know that it had chosen the sexy red dress he was wearing that evening. They didn't know that it had chosen his tits.

“Oh, I would love to do that with you!” Alex felt the device strumming his vocal chords as it pulled him even deeper into the new life it had created for him.

When Alex had aged out of juvenile detention, he been given a choice – transfer to the big house alongside hundreds of hardened adult criminals, or take part in a new experimental trial where an AI mesh would be implanted in his skull. The device was designed to help calibrate its owners actions and decisions to guide them to being a functioning member of society and reduce their propensity to reoffend. As much as Alex didn't want something like that in his skull, he certainly didn't want to go to prison and so he opted in to the trial. He hadn't made a choice since.

Perhaps the AI was dialled up too high, or maybe it was working as intended in its own flawed way, but it quickly concluded that given the vast majority of crimes were committed by men, the most reliable way to avoid recidivism was to be a women. The mesh immediately started dressing him in feminine clothes and growing his hair out. The trial supervisors dismissed the idea this was due to the device's influence and concluded simply that he was a young man going through an identity change. The mesh next decided that to further drop the risk of re-offence, he needed gainful employment, and not having any qualifications, the easiest way to achieve that was to look and dress sexy – hence the curves, breasts and red dress. Alex quickly got work as a Personal Assistant and the mesh decided he needed a promotion to be truly secure, and the best way to do that was to network with the right people. And that's how we got to tonight, with Alex dressed to the nines and dining with one of the company directors.

“The guys are going to love you,” the man grinned broadly, “you are simply charming.”

.The whirring stopped behind Alex's ear. Relief flooded him realising the device had just turned off. It must have decided its job was done. But then the dread started to build. If went back to being himself, the man opposite him would surely find a reason not to keep him employed. And if he lost his job, surely the trial would be called a failure...and he would go to prison. Alex forced a smile at the man, realising nothing had changed at all.

Whatever Happened to Jimmy? (Miss June)

 This is a flashback for my Sissy Calendar caption "Miss June" 

“One extra large package just for...” Jimmy announced as he stepped off the elevator. “...Oh! It's you...” He instantly dropped the act upon seeing that the only person behind the ShackUp Lettings reception desk was the stony faced and significantly overweight Matilda. The boring cow was the kryptonite to his charms and an instant buzzkill. While he loved flirting with the other receptionists, especially the long-serving Ellen, who even after all these years was still his favourite, there was just something about Matilda that stopped the Jimster dead in his tracks.

“Ellen's not here today,” Matilda stated flatly, watching the courier slide the parcel silently onto the front desk. He was unable to meet her eye as he fiddled with a handheld device for collecting receipt signatures. The scrawny man appeared completely dejected by her presence. “Ellen, was talking about you yesterday though actually.” She said suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically bright. Jimmy's head shot up to attention. “She was saying how you're always asking her out – and that she has said 'no' about a million times.” Jimmy's gaze dropped back down to his device. “She said you do absolutely nothing for her. Except...” Now she had the courier's attention. “Except...this one time about ten years ago you posed for a charity calendar. You were Miss June, I think. Ellen showed it to me. She still has it, you know? Just that month, of course. I can see why. You were very cute. She said she bought a joke book to keep the banter going between you two, but you weren't interested. She said you were embarrassed. It's a shame really – sounded like she was willing to make a go of it if you had been willing to embrace your feminine alter ego.” Matilda used her finger to scrawl out a signature on the electronic screen. “Hey, how about I talk to her? Maybe she would give you another shot? What do you say? Would Miss June be willing to bring out an early summer?”

Three days later and Jimmy was waiting in a booth at a local bar, his heart thudding in his chest. You could say a lot about the courier, but you couldn't say he wasn't punctual. The wig was the same one from ten years ago. He had left the offices in such a daze that day, he had forgotten to remove it on the way out. The rest of the outfit was new though. He had guessed the sizes and ordered online, yet the hot pink playsuit fit him like a glove. It had taken him four hours to get ready but it would all be worth it if it got him some action with Ellen. The makeup had been the hard part. All the YouTube tutorials in the world couldn't steady his hand as it held those tiny brushes, and he had left trying to walk in the heels until far too late – badly underestimating how much practice it would take to be able to stride confidently into the bar. Though again, this was just a means to an end. Once Ellen got to know him, he wouldn't need to bother with all this crap.

“There she is!” A confident female voice proclaimed from the opening of the booth. Jimmy instinctively took up a defensive position, his hands stretching wide and pressing back into the sofa and his silk stockinged legs sliding up onto the leather. “There's my date!” Matilda said matter-of-factly. “There's my Miss June!” She stood over Jimmy imposingly. “Come on, sweetie, let's go get a drink in you!” She licked her lips hungrily. “I have much to get in you by the time this night is through!”