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!”

The Date Part 2

 

With every vibration of Otto's phone that followed, his feminine prison was built more secure. If the picture of the epoxy resin in Tilly's hand had been a barred window, the heavily edited videos that came next each added a lock to an already firmly bolted steel door. His so-called girlfriend was drip feeding him clips of him seemingly willingly, heck excitedly, dressing himself in the figure hugging outfit he was now wearing. 'This is going to be so good!' he exclaimed in one video as he ran fingers through the long hair of his wig. 'I can't wait to see Elijah see me like this!' as he pulled a pair of satin panties slowly up his silky smooth shaved legs. How had he let Tilly persuade him to wear the panties? Boxers would show show from under the short dress, she had said – they wouldn't hug his manhood tightly enough and Elijah might notice... Otto sighed – how had he let Tilly convince him to do any of this...

He had tested the resin of course - pulling at the wig with fistfuls of synthetic hair while in the bathroom had only succeeded in giving him an awfully sore scalp. The acrylic nails wouldn't come off either, nor, Otto realised in horror would the high-heels. The figure hugging dress didn't seem attached and apparently he could drop his panties at will, but that's what the subsequent video messages had been for – Tilly wanted him to finish the date with Elijah or the clips of him gaily dressing himself would be circulated.

When Elijah invited him to his dorm room, he had accepted without thinking – anything to remove himself from staring onlookers, even if it was because they thought he was a hot girl. The dork was harmless anyway and proceeded to give Otto a tour of his hand painted figures and binders of completed DnD campaigns. Polaroids of his gaming club were taped to a mirror and the penny finally dropped. Almost all of them featured a single female gamer amongst the group of sweaty nerds – in one she even had her arms wrapped around the greasy bastard...Tilly.

Otto hid his phone in one hand and glanced back over his shoulder to where Elijah stood awkwardly the other side of an unmade bed. Tilly had just sent him pictures of the makeup she had used to paint his face – each tube and bottle was printed with 'LONG-LASTING' or 'SEMI-PERMANENT'. By now his heart was hammering in his chest. 'I see you have been invited to Eli's bedroom,' the message read, 'by now you will understand what this is about. I have been preparing you to be a fool for much longer than you have been planning your date.' Otto seethed. That bitch! How could she do this to him?! His phone buzzed again. 'But how long you stay a fool depends on you! Eli really doesn't have a clue who you are. You can still make this a night to remember for him. How about it? Either I spread these videos and your life will suck for a long time...or you can suck right now!' One more picture came through – it was of Otto posing suggestively with his short dress pulled up to expose his satin panties and a single finger pressed against his painted lips. It had supposed to be ironic but none of that came through in the picture. He just looked like a complete sissy. Hesitantly, he took a deep breath and gestured for Elijah to join him near the bed – taking care not to trip on his glued-on heels as he got down on his knees.

The Date Part 1

Otto glanced quickly at his phone again when Elijah's back was turned – which was a rare luxury considering the chubby boy's eyes had been fixated on him all evening. Still nothing... He sighed, willing Tilly to hurry up with her cue so they could accelerate their prank to the fun bit – the bit that didn't revolve around him being eye candy for Elijah so he could get on with humiliating the fat Dungeons and Dragons obsessed doofus.

“Everything alright, Baby?” Elijah smiled sweetly. “You look cold. Care to wear my jacket?” Cold?! He wasn't cold!? Hell, it was actually pretty warm for early April. But, he did want that jacket. He didn't care that it had been wrapped around that sweaty boy's body. Anything would be better than what he was actually wearing. Otto instinctively looked down at himself and instantly regretted it, cursing the fact he had listened to Tilly when she suggested starting the date early in the afternoon. Of course, there would be more of an audience for Elijah's ultimate humiliation, but by extension more people would get to see him in his role too, and with the daylight lingering, they would get quite the view.

In truth, it could have been a dark evening and Otto would have still cut the striking figure. Tilly had done a fine job of preparing him for their April Fool's prank. Their mark was the greasy and grossly overweight enternal-virgin from their freshman year college study group, Elijah. Their plan was a classic – Tilly would help her boyfriend, Otto, dress as an overly eager female date for their classmate, make him think he was getting lucky, build him up, and then just as lover boy leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal, the wig would come off, Otto's friends would jump out laughing, fingers pointed, phone cameras poised, and Elijah would never speak up to correct him in class ever again. Hell, that stupid ass might never even show his face again.

Otto looked at his phone once more. He was getting impatient now and no longer cared if he seemed rude. Like he was going to upset a guy who wore a DnD shirt on a date. He actually felt offended on behalf of the female alter-ego Tilly had crafted for him. The long flowing hair, the perfect makeup, the short figure-hugging dress that clung to his smooth moisturised skin...the shiny fuck-me heels Tilly had given him as a finishing touch and then proceeding to teach him to walk in. Otto wasn't even a real girl and he was still too good for this loser. It was no wonder Elijah had clearly fallen in love already – the geek's eyes bugging with every wiggle, every shimmy that Otto threw his way. They weren't just going to humiliate him, he thought gleefully. They were going to break his heart.

Finally, Otto's phone vibrated in his hand. As expected, it was a message from Tilly and he opened it eagerly. But wait...he narrowed his eyes heavy with false lashes and wrapped his extended nails around the device like talons. He studied the picture Tilly had sent him. She had clearly been holding her phone in one hand and pointing it at assortment of objects on a table. Otto recognised them instantly given he was wearing all of them – a long flowing wig, the high-heels, acrylic fingernails – yet it was what was in Tilly's other hand that stopped his heart in his chest. Her palm was open and facing upwards, a small bottle lay in it with its cap unscrewed – 'Never-break Epoxy printed on its label.

 

Little Benny's Easter Jamboree

 

“What the hell is all that crap?!” Jill screeched upon seeing Ryan unloading the huge box from the back of their van. Brightly colored streamers were bursting from the top and Ryan was using his chin to stop a pile of bunny-ear headbands from falling to the floor. With a confused expression on his face, Ryan lowered the carton to the ground and Jill began to rummage through it. Together, the pair owned and ran a new and already struggling party hosting business and while they were supposed to be partners, having put up most of the investment money and the down payment on the company van, Jill was very much in charge. “What is all this?” She was pulling out items at random – plushy bunnies, paper plates, little yellow fluffy chicks, and dozens of small colorfully wrapped chocolate eggs.

“It's the stuff for Little Benny's party.” Ryan responded as if the answer was obvious. “You know, the Easter Jamboree. I just figured we were going with the standard egg hunt and party games and spent the budget accordingly. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal?!” Jill's mouth dropped open. “The big deal is 'Little Benny' is an ironic nickname. The big deal is Little Benny is a six foot five dude turning thirty this weekend and his friends are turning up here in two hours expecting us to have a surprise party for him, and my idiot partner has just spent our entire budget on baby chicks and chocolate eggs. I bet you haven't even booked a hostess, have you? Did you even read the booking form?”

“Well... hmmm...” Ryan blushed deep red and stammered sheepishly. He hadn't, of course, and was scanning the box of Easter knick-knacks for some inspiration. Finally, his eyes settled on a pair of the bunny ears and he raised them for Jill to see. “Well, I suppose you could wear these, and play the role of hostess?”

Needless to say, Jill did not play the role of hostess. That honor fell to the junior member of the partnership, Ryan. A hasty run to the store for some crates of beer had been enough to distract Little Benny's friends from the lack of an organised party – especially once the hot little bunny girl made her debut. Jill had sped home and returned with a satin corset and matching panties, as well as a blonde wig and her makeup box. She had been merciless in packing Ryan into the underwear, not so much showing him how to tuck as stuffing him into the knickers like a turkey. There was no effort spared when it came to shaping his body with the corset either and by the time it was firmly tied, Ryan could barely breathe. Makeup was then slathered on and by the time Jill was finished with him, he didn't even recognise himself.

“Oh, hostess!” Jill called coyly across the busy room to where Ryan had been trying to hide in a quiet corner. He had spent the last three hours serving beers, listening to drunk guys try to chat to him and dodging the odd wandering hand, and he just wanted the whole humiliating experience to be over. “We're about to sing Happy Birthday to Little Benny!” Ryan glanced to the table where the cake was waiting and braced himself for trying not to drop it while tottering across the room on six-inch heels. He adjusted the top of his corset to make sure the silicone padding was sitting naturally. “Oh no, I've got that.” Jill said. “I have promised the birthday boy that the beautiful hostess will sit on his lap while we sing!” Ryan paused – his stomach would have dropped were the corset not clenching it so tightly, and looked sideways to where Benny was sitting. He really was a mountain of a man – a wide grin on his face as he patted his thigh invitingly.

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

 0/25

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!”

Tell Tale

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

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

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

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

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

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