Sting Like a Butterfly

 14/25

“That's it Gino,” Detective Pam Larsson tapped a ballpoint pen against her chin approving. “Place one hand on the back of your head, feel that silky blonde hair between your fingers. Now part those cherry red lips. Wider. Excellent. That's exactly what it will feel like when you are servicing your boss. Minus his dick in your mouth of course!” She grinned as she watched her informant flush with embarrassment – his blushes visible even through the thick makeup under the safehouse lights. “Hey Finn, do you think it's worth darling Gino here practising being on his knees?”

Detective Finn Collier appraised the feminised man they had just watched their undercover team pour into the shimmering sequinned dress. It had been the final stage of a painstaking transformation process that had involved an entire team waxing, peeling and painting the terrified Gino in preparation of his infiltration of his boss's criminal underbelly. The notorious Fabio was the head of a dangerous crime family, and unfortunately for Gino, had a well know taste for women who had a little bit extra. “Let's stay on point.” Finn nodded. Unlike his partner, he felt some small sympathy for Gino. He may have worked for Fabio, but only as a lowly grounds-keeper.

“There has to be some other way!” Gino protested to the detectives. “Fabio, he will recognise me. He will kill me! All of this will not fool him.” He gestured to the sparkling figure hugging dress. “He is sharp – that's why he is the boss! Why can't I just wear a wire?”

“We've been over this, Gino!” Pam gave a bored yawn. “It doesn't matter if he recognises you – only that he likes what he sees. It might work in our favour if he does recognise you. Just think of it – the mob boss with a shemale fetish...looking for love...and what does he find? His loyal gardener has had a thing for dressing in drag this whole time.” She wiped away a mock tear. “It's beautiful. Truly Shakespearian. Twelfth Night at least... Besides, if you do wear a wire and for some reason in his company you enter a state of undress. He will absolutely kill you!”

“Remember,” Finn said, “this cover will get you into Fabio's inner-sanctum, at the party at least, but we don't need you to become our star witness here. We just need a thread we can pull to bring his organisation down. You get that for us and we honor your deal and the charges against you disappear.”

“And no stuffing evidence in your panties,” Pam interjected, “we don't need that falling out when Fabio gets you into a dark corner This is a mouth and ears job. The more that goes in your mouth, the more information will go in your ears.” She grinned as Gino's eyes went wide with fear and his lips parted into a wide 'O'. “Now you're getting the hang of it!”

The Belle Ringer Part 3

 

Sometimes plans just play out perfectly. Todd wouldn't describe himself as lucky – he had just spent the last year being crafted into his sister's extremely feminine trojan horse after all, but the beauty pageant itself had been a huge success. Sure, he had spent the evening in a seemingly endless procession of humiliating outfits – his sister had been stationed backstage to help him change between rounds from the pink dress he had started in to a black one-piece bathing suit that left nothing to the imagination except his expertly tucked manhood, then another figure hugging spandex outfit for his pole-dancing performance in the talent round, and finally an outrageously sexy red dress that put end to any debate on whether Lauren had been adding hormones to his food throughout the year. Twelve months of practice at girlhood positioned Todd well in the contest and he could now walk in heels, twirl and flick his hair on instinct, but it was the talent round where things really came together.

Todd and Lauren's sabotage from the night before found the girl with the juggling clubs striking herself in the face during her performance after misjudging the flight of one the batons. By the time she came out for the final round, a heavy black welt had started to form around her eye. There were similar fates for the girls dancing with the hoop and the roller skates causing another girl to need crutches to walk out for the finale. In contrast, Todd expertly used months of classes to gyrate and twist suggestively around the pole. Of course, it was degrading and he wanted the stage to eat him whole every time he stuck his ass out, but at least he got through it unmamed. By the time it came to the judges' final decision, there was only one realistic challenge to his crown and it eventually fell on the town's mayor to split the decision. Todd actually squealed with delight as his lapdance from earlier in the evening came up trumps.

So then why after all that was he still wearing the sexy red dress from the final vote? And why, oh why, was he in the mayor's hotel suite? The time for Lauren to stand up and reveal their ploy had surely been immediately after the decision, when the crown sat on his head with the whole town watching. Yet here he was hours later with the winner's bouquet still clutched nervously in his hands having been whisked upstairs by the man he could now hear singing in the shower. Todd shuddered at the thought of his experience on the man's lap as the room's phone rang. Cautiously, he scooped up the receiver and heard his sister's voice. “Lauren,” he hissed. “Get me out of this. What are you doing?!”

“Hush!” She cooed. “Just let this play out a little longer. The town is already ours – their precious beauty pageant has just been won by my brother in a dress. But, I want that sleaze-ball mayor to pay personally. He tried to molest me and then kicked me out when I refused. I want my revenge and you will help me get it. Just get him in a compromising position and I will run in with a camera.” She hung up just as the mayor walked out of the bathroom with his gown open. Todd forced a demure smile as he wondered how far Lauren would let things go before she intervened. Based on the last twelve months, his hopes weren't high...  

The Belle Ringer Part 2

 

The club was unrecognisable from the night before. The long shadows and dark corners were gone and the whole room was now lit up like a carnival with streamers hanging from the ceiling and colourful balloons littering the dance-floor. Todd, on the other hand, still resembled the knockout blonde he had been yesterday. Lauren had picked out a cute pink dress for him made of a stretchy faux-woollen material with matching gauntlets and a soft-satin skirt. It was sickly in its sweetness and Todd had wanted to vomit the first time he saw it. Parading himself in front of the whole town while wearing it was certainly going to be an ordeal. He had mentally dubbed it the last dress he would ever wear before Lauren reminded him that the beauty contest would feature several costume changes. Still, he was nearly free. Finally...

“In there...” Lauren eased him away from the main festivities where the stage was still being prepared and towards a quieter room with few people and a bar. “There is still work to be done to make sure you win tonight...to make sure we win tonight... I have spent the last year turning you into hot shit, but remember, this is a beauty contest – and beauty is in the eye of the beholder!” She pushed Todd into the room and remained outside. He scanned the bar area's few occupants and immediately knew what he was here to do. A sick feeling formed in his stomach.

“Well, well, well...” An overweight man in a tie belched from a seat next to the bar. “If it isn't one of tonight's hopeful starlets! Why don't you come over here and take a seat? ”Todd recognised the man as the town's mayor and more importantly, one of the evening's judges. He knew any wrong move would ruin everything and potentially end in Lauren ruining his life with that video of him smoking weed. Reluctantly, he tottered over in his bejewelled four-inch heels, feigning shyness by playing with a lock of his bleached hair, and began to sit in the seat next to the man. “I'm sorry, I seem to have given you the wrong idea...” The mayor smiled coyly. “I meant here.” He patted his lap with his free hand. Todd smiled politely and before he could chicken out, he lowered himself onto the man. “Oh, this is very nice...” The mayor chuckled and pulled Todd deeper into his lap. He could feel the soft material of his skirt riding up and before he knew it, only the silk of his panties separated him from the man's lap. Two strong arms wrapped around his waist and something hard probed urgently between his asscheeks. “Very nice indeed.”

“I think I am starting to understand why you hate this town so much.” Todd muttered to his sister when he finally left the room. Shame at being so publicly degraded weighed heavy on him and a queasy feeling sat in his stomach. To think, after that, he still had to perform for the mayor and other judges like him. “I feel dirty doing that to get ahead. Hey, is that why you got disqualified last year? For trying to get an advantage like that?”

“No!” Lauren said coldly as she reorganised his skirt and brushed at his hair. “I was disqualified because I refused to do that...”

The Belle Ringer Part 1

“I still don't get it...” Todd muttered as he surveyed the darkness of the club around him, knowing that in just one more day it would be all lit up and he would be the central attraction. He played with a lock of his long blonde hair nervously. “If you hate this town so much, why do you want to win their annual beauty pageant so badly.”

“I see you are really getting into the dumb blonde persona...” Lauren sighed at her brother. “I'm not going to win their pageant – you are!” She chuckled as Todd blushed. It was truly something that after a year or this, she could still embarrass him. “I can't win. They banned me from competing, remember? But not you! Not my stupid pot-head brother. Just imagine how humiliated they will be when they find out that their tinpot bimbo parade was won by a guy. It will be the end of their stupid tradition! Even if you are hot...”

“But...” Todd began, but he had nothing. He knew by now when arguing with his sister was pointless. She had been preparing him for this for almost a year – a year of makeup, growing out and bleaching his hair, a year of walking in heels, a year of Lauren adding what he was sure were testosterone blockers to his food, a year leading up to tomorrow night. Lauren's creation was almost perfect – he was almost perfect - a cute blonde in a figure hugging white dress and legs to die for. He just needed to keep going for one more day and it would be all over. His year of hell would be over. All he had to do was make a spectacle of himself in front of the entire town. “But...what if I don't win?” He said finally.

“Oh, you're going to win!” Lauren replied confidently. “We both know how motivated you are. You hold up your end of this or that video I have of you and your friends smoking weed goes online and your college offer goes bye-bye. Besides have you seen yourself? Of course you have...” She waved her hand in a manner that implied Todd was hot and he blushed once more. “That said, we are here to remove all doubt.” She gestured to the nightclub around them. “This might be a club tonight but tomorrow its going to be pageant central and I just happen to know that a lot of the props are already here in preparation.” Lauren led him by the hand behind a curtain and sure enough there were boxes tagged with the names of several of the beauty queens. It quickly became apparent that they contained items relating to the talent portion of the show. Lauren immediately set about looking for ways to sabotage each of them – unscrewing part of a juggling slightly, bending a hoop, loosening the wheel on a roller-skate.

“Isn't that kind of dangerous?” Todd's heavily made up eyes flitted between his sister and the boxes.

“Not as dangerous as what will happen if you don't win tomorrow!” Lauren snapped. “If I were you, I would be more focused on your talent!” Todd blushed for a third and deepest time. Of course he was focussed on his talent. How could he not be? A year of pole dancing classes where you were the only guy left an imprint – even when everyone else though you were just another hot blonde in spandex...

 

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 Kissogram Part 4

 

Joe stood by the bar feeling the true weight of the kind of transformation the best part of a grand could buy. Penny and Deanna had spared no expense getting him ready for the Valentine's Ball. In spite of the fact the addictive red lipstick had fallen in their laps free of charge, they had truly bought into the philosophy of spending big to make it big. The incident with the car seemed long forgotten and they seemed completely fixated on making as much money as possible, only even bringing it up whenever Joe needed a bit of extra motivation to play along.

Firstly, they had taken him to a salon at the mall and somehow the least humiliating part of his day turned out to be standing nude but for a pair of paper briefs while he was sprayed with jets of fake tanning cream. Once it had dried, he was led to a seat where Penny and Deanna were waiting with a pair of excited beauticians. They chattered gleefully as they threaded in hair extensions and applied thick makeup that morphed his features beyond recognition – leaving only his lips bare to be painted red later on. He never heard them mention it being permanent, but regular makeup wasn't supposed to hurt as it was applied, right? When they had finished, he looked more like Malibu Barbie than regular old Joe. The outfit the girls selected didn't help that either – a glittering mini-skirt and matching tube top, chosen after plenty of other outfits had been trialled, of course... When Joe had questioned the large cup size, they brought out their coup de gras – huge breast forms that the salon girls helped blend into his new skin tone. Once in place, they were heavy and made balancing on stilettos extremely difficult. Joe was feeling the weight of his transformation, that was for sure.

The Valentine's Ball was heaving with people – mostly young men all hoping to get some quality time with the guest of honour. As with the fair, a long line formed in front of him next to the bar and guy after guy handed over cash to his sister before pulling the helpless Joe, startled and off-balance from the heavy breastplate, into a long deep kiss. The prices had doubled since the fair and the men wanted their money's worth, yet he still seemed to find the same punters coming back again and again.

“Hey there, Babe!” A tall young man stood at the front of the line. Joe's red-lined mouth dropped open. It wasn't the first punter of the night he had known but this was the captain of the school basketball team – a guy who had taken great pleasure pushing him around over the years. And now here he was, ready to make out with him. Joe felt a familiar fear creep into his stomach as the man looked him deep in the eyes. For a moment, he was sure he recognised him. And then, like the others, he handed Penny the cash and hooked an arm around him to pull him into a tight kiss – with the added bonus of a hand that crept up under his skirt and onto his pantied ass. Joe's eyes shot wide and suddenly he was looking right at the guy. He saw his pupils dilate as he tasted something he clearly enjoyed and Joe was pulled in even closer to the taller boy's body. Something hardened against his hip as a hungry tongue invaded his mouth. And then the man pulled away – still panting like a wolf. “Oh yeah!” He licked some of the transferred lipstick from his bottom lip and grinned, pulling out his wallet. “I'll give you another $200 right now if you take a trip with me to the restroom and transfer some of that lipstick to another part of my body...if you catch my drift!” Before Joe could even flinch, Penny snatched the cash and pushed him into the man's waiting arms.

The Kissogram Part 3

 

Penny and Deanna knew the lipstick was no Golden Goose. With no discernable markings or branding visible, there was no hope of getting any more of the mysterious cosmetic. When it was gone, it would be gone for good, and so, they knew they needed to cash in while they could. Every touch up and reapplication onto Joe's exhausted lips was a step closer to the final gold egg. They knew they needed to go big.

“This time with feeling!” Penny waved her arms like a movie director. “This is going viral...Instagram, tiktok...hell, I will put this on OnlyFemmes if I have to... Whatever gets the punters into Friday's Valentine's club night!” She glared at her brother who stood like a rabbit in the headlights in front of the camera tripod. Joe stared back glumly with what resembled a sullen pout. The threat of reporting his drunken collision with his sister's car still hung above his head like a guillotine. How else would the girls have made him subject himself to another makeover? This time he was a blonde with big floppy lace bunny ears. Deanna had managed to stuff him into an old Halloween costume – a black catsuit in matching lace that squeezed him all over. The material irritated his freshly shaven skins and he kept rubbing himself like a cat in heat. His lips were not red now, of course. The girls didn't dare waste any of the precious lipstick on something like this, but they were a glossy pink that plumped them out as if they had been stung by a bee. “Alright...action!” Penny called out, before adding. “Go get 'em, girl!”

“Hey, you!” Joe muttered, leaning in close to the camera lens. He couldn't believe he was doing this. After practising under the girls' instruction half the afternoon, his voice actually sounded soft and somewhat feminine. There was no audience other than the two girls and yet the performative nature of what he was doing almost made this worse than being kissed by a hundred guys. Almost... He looked up to see Penny making a waving motion with her hand indicating he should keep going. “Yes, you!” He continued his script. “Whether you're lonely, or just looking for something a bit extra, come find me at Friday night's Valentine's ball. I'll be by the bar all night where you can come give me a little kiss – for a small donation of course.” Joe blushed as he heard Deanna make a lude comment under her breath about the kinds of donation he could expect. Not wanting to start from the top, Joe cleared his throat and kept going. “Just one smooch with me and I will make your dreams come true. I will be a hookup you'll never forget and I know you'll come back for more. Come find me on Friday night, I will rock your world.” He finished by pushing out his lips as Penny has showed him.

“And cut!” His sister declared. “That will bring the boys in for sure! And the lipstick with keep them coming! With the money we made from the fair, we can give you a proper transformation that will drive them wild!” Joe visibly shrank at the idea his makeover could somehow get even more extreme. “Deanna, make sure that video is seen by everyone we know!” Penny barked out orders. “Oh, and put it on Joe's school network. Let's see how popular we can make my dear brother amongst his peers!”

A Date with Destiny Part 3

Julian's heels clacked on the wooden floor of the outer-office of Destiny Engineering to where the full length mirror hung of the wall. The area was where clients and investors were greeted and would wait before being led in to meet with Marcus and the mirror was the frequent recipient of practice pitches and tie-straightening...and now where Julian checked and reapplied his makeup fifteen times a day. He hated the mirror. It was a constant reminder of how he had fallen. Yet, even though he could see his reflection in it from his seat behind the mahogany desk it the reception office, it never ceased to draw him closer like a moth to a flame.

Julian stared into the mirror disbelievingly as he always did, and, as always, a prisoner stared back. His work wear was more professional and less revealing than what he had chosen for his first date with Marcus, but humiliating all the same. A stiff pencil skirt hugged his hips revealing just a hint of a pantyline and the fitted blouse was so uncanny in its similarity to the pressed white shirts he was used to that in its own way it was more feminising that the seamed stockings that encased his legs. As he stood there, the familiar doubt crept in. Could he really continue to pass as a woman? Surely, by parading himself publicly like this, he was asking to get caught and be carted off to jail... Using both hands, he pulled his long blonde into a bun above his head, revealing the shape of his face and the full extent of how the hormones had altered his appearance. He shuddered. This wasn't second thoughts – that had happened immediately after he had told Elena about Marcus's offer. That had been when she had laid out in detail the consequences of what would happen if he didn't take the job. No, his regret could be comfortably counted in the triple figures by now.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A gruff voice with a whiff of an accent sounded behind him. He whirled around to see a small academic-looking man standing in front of his desk. “Is this you?” The man pointed at the nameplate. 'JULIA'. “I'm here for my 10 o'clock with Mr. Grant. He should be expecting me.”

“Ah, Michael!” Marcus entered the room from his private office before Julian could react. “I see you've met Julia, my latest secretary!” The million dollar grin was back as the CEO of Destiny Engineering held out a hand. Julian forced a polite smile and a gave a small feminine nod. As ridiculous as it seemed, he felt betrayed by Marcus. Sure, Julian was the one acting, presenting himself to the world as someone who didn't exist. But so was Marcus – on their date he had felt like he was being hired because Marcus looked at him and saw...something. And now, the walls were back up, and he felt used. “Believe it or not,” Marcus winked at him before turning to their guest. “Julia was actually my Valentine's date...and now she's the eye candy for my company. I guess Destiny really is the right name for it!”  

 

A Date with Destiny Part 2

 

“Hey, I could have sworn I reserved a table... But, a girl who sits at the bar is a girl after my own heart!” A shiver shot up Julian's spine. In twenty minutes of sitting on the stool, his long nylon clad legs folded one over the other, he had kept his head down pretending to read the menu. No-one had spoken to him...no-one had even looked at him, as far as he knew... And now his date was here. Staring at him. Talking to him. Julian felt the little black dress squeeze him, His makeup suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. He gulped softly and his glossy pink bottom lip dropped open. “I am Marcus!” The man grinned. He was slim and expensively dressed and held out a hand for Julian to shake. However, when he reached out to accept the greeting, the man smoothly slid him into a tight hug before kissing Julian on the cheek. “Let me get you a drink!” His date demanded, one hand still resting on Julian's bare back.

“Erm... maybe some wine,” Julian replied softly and shrugged Marcus off. If the man noticed, he didn't show it and his beaming smile remained in place. “Red...please...” He watched the man snap his fingers at the barmaid and produce an American Express card in the other hand. It was clear he wanted Julian to see it and he got a flash of deja-vu. It was exactly the kind of trick Julian himself would have used to impress a woman in a bar...back when he wasn't yet a woman.

“But, of course,” Marcus winked and ordered an expensive bottle with two glasses. After instructing a waiter to bring it to a table in the restaurant window, he held out Julian's chair for him sit and once again draped a hand across his exposed shoulders for just a little too long. “I usually hate Valentine's Day, you know? I think its corny crap. But this one... I don't know... I have a good feeling about it... I have a good feeling about you.” Julian's skins crawled but he felt himself blush all the same. Was this guy really so smitten with him? Or had he just played the game so many times it was like a reflex, regardless of what the girl looked like. Marcus placed his iPhone and a Porsche keyfob down on the table and proceeded to ask him question after question about himself...or rather about Julia, interjecting with factoids here and there that were clearly designed to impress. Julian attempted to act demurely and stick to half-truths – he was living with his sister, he really needed a job but was not sure what he was looking for, he was single...why did he say that...? Marcus, it turned out, was also single, and the CEO and founder of a tech startup called Destiny Engineering. Julian was surprised to find that the more Marcus spoke, the more the slick facade he had put up seemed to slip away. He stopped trying to impress and stared at Julian intently as he spoke about needing a job to pay for his share of Elena's rent. Was this guy really falling for him? He struggled to believe he was actually passing as Julia, let alone melting the game of a rich guy in a bar. “Hey, you should come work for me!” Marcus blurted out suddenly. “Don't worry about an interview, or a resume, or any of that crap. You can work for me personally...be my PA.”

“Work for you?” Julian repeated dumbly. His heart was thudding again, and now he was sweating – perspiration trickling down his back and into the satin of his panties. His head sloshed with the wine and he felt an odd mix of triumph and terror. Elena had made it very clear. It was get a job, or go to jail. But, work for this guy? Who against all the odds seemed to fancy him... What if he tried to pull a move on him? But what choice did he have? “Sure...,” Julian stammered, “when do I start?”

A Date with Destiny Part 1

“Are you really certain all this is necessary?” Julian regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Not just because he already knew the answer, but because of the gentle feminine inflection that shaped them. His soft tone had become warm and natural. The initial soreness from the injections to his vocal chords had faded and all that remained was the singsong chirp of a young woman. Julian hated it with a passion.

“Asked and answered, dear brother,” Elena replied shaking her head. “That's the kind of thing you lawyer types say, isn't it? At least it was before you were disgraced and disbarred.” She took a step back to appraise his outfit. She had insisted he be the one to complete his transformation today. That had included choosing at outfit, dressing himself, and of course all the primping that went with it. She had watched on like a proud mother hen as he had shaved and waxed and spent ninety minutes doing his own makeup. Sure he whined and dragged his heels the whole way, but that only added to her enjoyment, and now that he was almost ready, she could fully appreciate the ways in which the hormone supplements helped him fill out the dress, and how now his hair had fully grown out, he could achieve the look of a glamorous blonde without the need of a wig.

“I mean, why can't I just hide out here? As myself?” God, he hated how alien his voice sounded. He tried to add some coarseness but it just ended up coming out smoky and sexy. “No-one is going to look for me here!” He gestured to himself and realised for the first time how short his dress was. Blushing, he took the hem in his fists and tried to tug it down – only succeeding in forming a prissy pout.

“And then what?” Elena yawned. “You sponge off me forever? You realise you owe me right? Without me you would be in jail. You should be in jail. And you know what else? Your stupid law firm that you embezzled funds from – has my last name on it too. I am training to be a legal aide and you just made me unemployable. Maybe I should hand you in... Remove all doubt I was complicit somehow!”

“Sis...” Julian cooed, suddenly playing his role with a lot more enthusiasm. He smoothed his dress with his palms and flicked his hair behind one shoulder. It crushed him to do so but not as much as the prospect of staring down 46 counts of fraud. “But how can I possibly pay you back looking like this? No-one is going to believe I am a woman. I know you are getting a kick out of the punchline, but you've still turned me into a joke!”

“That's where you are wrong, dear brother,” Elena smiled. “You may not believe this now, but I have turned you into something extraordinary. Today, after all, is Valentine's Day and I have lined you up with a hot date. I am going to show you just how beautiful you are now, and if you can impress a horny guy in a bar, an interview panel isn't going to stand a chance...”

 

Under the Influence Part 9

 

As Brody crawled along the paved streets, so did his skin. Thousands of people had seen Claire's feminine creation by now, but he had always been safely behind a webcam and someone's screen. Now he was exposed for all the world to see. Real life was not like an OnlyFemmes profile. He was not there purely for those willing to pay to enjoy him. He was there for the angry glares, the disapproving stares, the tuts, the head-shakes – all as Lady Radius half-guided, half-dragged his bound body across the town square.

She had started by reaching under his pathetic maid's dress and grabbing him by his shrivelled manhood. The hormones had made him weak but the months of non-stop humiliation and self-degradation had made him weaker and he was no match for the powerful woman. She had pulled the uniform up over his head and pushed him forward onto the bed while he still tried to nurse his throbbing genitals. A few hard swats on the ass from the leather riding crop followed and then the dress was up over his head completely. Lady Radius pushed a knee painfully in his back began to use a long piece of rope to bind his arms behind his back – even adding the humiliating detail of looping it around his soft hormone induced breasts.

Once he was firmly secured, the domina rolled him onto his back and struck him directly between the legs with the riding crop. The black satin panties offered little protection and with his arms beneath him, he was completely powerless to defend himself and simply lay their trembling as the vicious woman pulled firstly a pair of stockings up to his thighs and then some over the knee leather boots. She yanked him off the bed and he quickly realised the heels were far too high for him to walk in, but that was clearly the point as Lady Radius dragged him on his knees across the hotel's dingy carpet.

Once in the street, Brody was thankful for the uncomfortable boots as at least the leather protected his knees as he was hauled relentlessly across the city. He didn't know how long they would continue on like this, but clearly he was being taken somewhere. Lady Radius's home? Her dungeon?! A sick feeling entered his stomach. Would she be taking him on public transport? Like this?! The stares from the street were bad enough – close up would be unbearable. His head dropped in shame and his mistress gave with a swat with the crop to make him keep the pace. Wherever they were going wouldn't be good. He had the feeling this was the most comfortable it was going to get, even with the unsuspected buttplug Lady Radius has rammed in his ass during their trip down the hotel elevator.

The terms of his sister's bounty ad played over and over in his head - NO SAFEWORDS. NO MERCY. NO SAFEWORDS. NO MERCY. NO SAFEWORDS. NO MERCY!!! Lady Radius was truly the victorious domme, yet there was no way he could pay her prize. He chanced a look at her scowling face just as she pressed a heel into his fleshy exposed asscheek. Somehow, he didn't think she would take the news well...

Pre-emptive Measures Part 3

 

The taste of expensive Champagne was about the only thing Daniel had allowed himself to get used to over the last six months. Alice limited his intake, of course – she didn't want to let her toy get sloppy. But, she did allow him to sample many the top shelf bottle on their many trips together. Whether the visit was to fulfil one of his many 'upgrades', or simply an excursion to another luxury resort, there was always a day set aside for indulgence and that included a bottle or two of bubbly.

Each time, after each new piece was added to his quickly transforming body, Alice would be there to appreciate him as if he were the fine wine. She didn't sample, didn't taste, she just stood close, drinking him in with her eyes, breathing in the delicious notes of his new breasts, his fat new lips, his long new hair extensions. The hormones were hitting hard now too. He had grown curves – his skin had become soft as silk. These were things Daniel had not got used to.

Finally, it was on a trip to the Mediterranean coast of Turkey in a boutique hotel that Alice prepared to take her first sip. Daniel's hands were flat on the room's desk, their latest bottle of Champagne empty before him as Alice sat on the edge of the bed admiring his latest new feature. His ass implants had been added less than a month before and his backside was still tender as he lent forward to give the LoanRanger attorney the view she wanted. The six inch heels were a size too big but they served the purpose of serving his pert ass on a silver platter. The Vektor silk stockings were top of the line, as was the matching silk panties tugged up between his cheeks – again things Daniel was yet to get used to.

“Even Raphael's wasn't as fine as this,” Alice was breathing heavily behind him. He caught her reflection in the mirror and saw that she had removed her top. She was practically drooling while completely fixated on his new ass. She stood from the bed and something caught in his throat. She wasn't just topless – she was completely naked but for a thick pink dildo strapped around her crotch. Flashes of every action he had taken in aid of Raphael's insider trading scheme flashed through his mind and now more than ever he regretted all of them. This was surely better than prison, better even than fawning over some billionaire while wearing a tiny bikini on a yacht – but in that moment Daniel wished to be anywhere else but that room.

“Wait...” Daniel gasped, but Alice didn't listen. She stepped up behind him and kissed the back of his neck whilst expertly pulling his panties to his ankles with one hand. The cold lubricant of the dildo pressed into his lower back and the soft silk of his underwear caressed his legs all the way down. When Alice entered him, she was slow but firm and soon she was all the way in. He felt the front of her hips press into the cheeks of his new ass as the rest of his body screamed in a combination of discomfort and a niggling quiet but growing pleasure. “Wait..” he moaned it this time just as Alice pulled at his hair, arching his back and pulling his vision up to the reflection of his beautiful feminine face. His eyes held for a second and then rolled back as Alice began to slowly pull out. “There was no way he was going to get used to this...”

Pre-emptive Measures Part 2

 

Daniel padded over to the glass wall of the hotel balcony and found that he couldn't help but walk on his toes, so much had he become accustomed to walking in heels. He caught a flash of his reflection in the divider and almost didn't recognise himself. With Alice's guidance, he had become skilled with the makeup brush and his new diet had crafted a slender figure that fit easily into outfits such as the semi-transparent pink negligee he was wearing.

The sun beat down over the luxury resort below and the ocean stretched off to infinity ahead of him. He imagined Raphael out there somewhere on a yacht baking in the sun in a tiny string bikini. It was typical, Daniel thought bitterly, they had worked together to sell LoanRanger inside trading secrets and it was always Raphael that got to swan off to the exotic locations and rub shoulders with the money – even now. Not that he envied him in this instance.

“I bet your pal, Raphael is out there somewhere,” Alice spoke from behind him as if reading his mind. “I can just see him lying there as some pool boy rubs lotion into his big silicone tits while he desperately tries to think up ways to sell our products to the rich businessmen on board.” Alice laughed cruelly. “Guys like that only respond to one thing... Maybe the answer is to provide them with more of it. You'd look great in a g-string bikini, Daniel. Once we have given you the ass for it, anyway...”

“No...” Daniel could only groan with despair. He raised the bottle of Champagne to his fat pink lips and took a slug. He knew the other foot was about to drop. Alice didn't just bring him out here to make idle threats, she wanted something, but if the alternative was being pumped with silicone and thrown on a yacht to be a billionaire's plaything, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her offer. She had paraded him around this resort for two days now and he still had no idea why. What was she waiting for? She had all the evidence of his collaboration with Raphael by now. She held all the cards, so when was she going to play her hand?

“You will make a very good toy, you know Daniel?” Alice said softly. “For someone...” She approached him from behind and placed her hands on his shoulders. They felt surprisingly strong on his sunkissed skin. “You should know, you're getting the full works either way – tits, facial reconstruction, an ass to die for – but you still have a choice. Option one – we do the surgeries and take you bikini shopping. You will be lying on a sun lounger giving a billionaire a handjob faster than you can say 'Pamela fucking Anderson'. Option two...” she pushed back his long grown out hair so she could whisper in his ear, “we give you a long comfortable recovery and you and I continue to visit exotic locations like this one together from time to time. The choice is yours...but don't keep me waiting. I don't like to wait once I know what I want!”

Pre-emptive Measures Part 1

 This is a continuation of my LoanRanger series. All related captions are on my index page.

Alice leafed through papers from her position in the LoanRanger boardroom, using a fountain pen to check each document line by line before adding her signature to the bottom of the page. To her left sat Vivienne, the company's owner and CEO since the hostile takeover from her ex-husband Saul.

The sound of the office door opening caused both women to look up to see a slender figure entering the room holding a folder. She had long dark hair that cascaded down her back and wore a tight fitted blouse over a flat chest with a pink micro-skirt and glossy nylon pantyhose. The woman walked over to the desk and put the folder down in front of Alice before placing both hands down flat seemingly in an effort to take the weight off her towering heels.

“That will be all, Daniel,” Alice said with a dismissive wave and they watched the feminised man totter out of the boardroom.

“One of yours?” Vivienne raised an eyebrow to her legal council beside her.

“No...” said Alice thoughtfully. “Daniel used to be Raphael's assistant. You know, the scheming Sales Manager who was taking bribes in exchange for insider trading tips, and is now the jiggling platinum blonde with the great rack who takes trips on private yachts wearing micro-kinis to court new clients? We caught Raphael through using a private investigator to audit our expenditure, but he never turned up anything on Daniel. Except, now I am thinking...”

“Now, you're thinking if Daniel really didn't know anything about what Raphael was doing, why did he just come into our boardroom dressed like Erin Brockovich?” Vivienne finished.

“Exactly,” said Alice. “I think he knows something. And for some reason, he thinks we know he knows something, but he also thinks that if gets hair extensions and throws on a pair of heels anyway, we won't look too hard for what that is.” Alice placed her pen down and looked at her boss. “What Daniel doesn't realise is that I am not the kind of lawyer that is going to be satisfied with a couple of socks stuffed into a bra. If Daniel really does know something, and I am betting he does, I am going to find out what that is and when I am though with him, Daniel is going to have substantially bigger assets to be extorted...if you catch my drift...”

Method Acting Part 4

 

Something had broken in Oscar when he saw the latest studio he was to film in. It didn't even have a parking lot and was little more than a converted condo. It wasn't even clean and while 'Pillow Fight' had been a complete and utter flop, it still had a full stage crew. This setup was just a few cameramen and a director. He hadn't even seen another cast member yet. It seemed absurd that they felt empowered to have such demands for him. Still, Agnes had said they were legit and he was grateful she stuck with him this far, even if she was an insufferable cow.

Oscar was once more on a bed for what he assumed was another sex scene – he had stopped reading scripts months ago as at this point he couldn't afford to turn anything down. He hadn't even had the money to remove the implants from 'Pillow Fight' yet and a good thing too since the latest role had demanded he keep them and then some. Not only had they paid for him to have his lips filled to bursting point, they had given him a weird ass prosthetic to wear that had fit over the lower half of his body like an ultra-realistic glove, albeit one with globed buttcheeks instead of knuckles. Gone was the long dress, he lay on his hands and knees in skimpy lingerie and glittering heels – his fake backside oiled and sticking in the air. As he began to grow impatient, not to mention uncomfortable, a familiar figure entered the room. He looked up sheepishly from his degrading pose.

“Hello, Oscar,” Agnes smiled. Her relentless grey remained, but she seemed like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Aren't you the perfect little whore?” She watched Oscar's collagen filled lips part in surprise and added. “Perhaps things would make come sense to you if you knew my real name was not Agnes Crowe, but Agnes Frain – Bianca Frain's mother. You ruined my daughter, and unlike those other women you hurt who will get their day in court with you, she will never see a penny. And why, because she dared speak up first.” She paused to watch a sneer form on Oscar's bimbofied features. “Well, don't worry, because every cent you have made in your ridiculous roles in your time with me has been paid in her name. Good thing you are too arrogant to read contracts beyond the fee, hey? Every cent that is except for this current role. As a Mother, I couldn't bare to see my daughter paid for pornography!” Agnes drank in her client's confusion. “As I said, you aren't a strong reader...or you would also know that isn't a prosthetic. You are wearing the lower half of a state-of-the-art female bodysuit. As we speak, it is bonding to your spinal cord to ensure that you receive a truly authentic experience over the next ten months. You owe my daughter hundreds of thousands of dollars and you are soon to owe other women millions. I suppose you could break this contract – cut off your only source of income and owe hundreds of thousands more in severance in the process...I just don't see how you could afford to... It as good as air-tight, which coincidentally is, I believe, the title of your next movie...”

Agnes left then and was quickly replaced by three muscle-bound men – all naked, all sporting enormous erections. Oscar didn't know if the experience was authentic but as the first man pushed a giant cock into his new pussy and reached over to gape Oscar's asshole open for his mate, only one word filled his mind – 'whore'. It bounced around his skull as he was invaded and split In half. Whore, whore, whore. He opened his mouth to say it and the third man plunged himself deep inside. The hulking men tossed him around the bed effortlessly for the next two hours, switching positions and taking turns with his sopping holes. He wasn't exactly sure when he started to moan but about an hour in as one of the men was slamming his meat into Oscar's grunting mouth while another mounted him from behind, his whole body went stiff and he began to tremble. The men kept plugging away as his first female orgasm ripped through him. The man pounding him from behind slapped him hard across the ass. “That's it you dirty whore!!”

Method Acting Part 2

 

“You have fan mail.” Agnes presented a pile of envelopes held together by thick rubber bands. “I suppose I should say you have MORE fan mail. The audience loves you. It seems your reputation is steadily improving.” She said encouragingly. “And the acting contracts are doing wonders for the money situation.”

“Just give them here!” Oscar demanded – his voice now considerably softened by multiple rounds of hormone cycles. He was between scenes and didn't want to delay restarting filming because of any such bullshit – especially today. Wardrobe had once again put his character, and subsequently him into liquid latex leggings. He didn't care that it was one of her signature looks – he fucking hated them. They squeezed his oestrogen bloated ass like a shiny black gumball and squeaked when he walked around the set in the velvet stilettos. “Any chance any of these is a job offer where I can actually play a guy again?”

Oscar's part as a transgender pianist in the recent smash hit romcom had gone well, very well in-fact, and despite its low budget and limited audience, it had been enough to land him in a part in a brand new show. Agnes had delivered the contract offer to him in his office and he had immediately started pulling off his acrylic nails – that is until he actually read the contract and realised it was for a female part. His recent portrayal had been so convincing that the studio wanted him to play Claudette – a bored housewife turned cougar who spent her screen time tottering around her home all day in outrageous outfits while her husband was out at work. Oscar had almost ripped up the contract on the spot until Agnes showed him what they were offering.

“All these creeps know I have a dick, right?” Oscar spat as he started to tear open the first envelope. The progression of his treatments and the further growing out of his perma-bleached hair made this statement almost comical. For everything else, there was prosthetics and makeup – for which he would spend hours every day in from a mirror while some bimbo painted him and cooed over the softness of his skin. He skim-read the letter, balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. The latex of his leggings squealed painfully against the counter top as he adjusted his position to pick up the next one. He paused after reading the first line. It was from Bianca.

“This is your last chance,” it read. “You think your career is in the gutter now? You think you can't sink any lower? Tell the world what you did to me, or I will show you the meaning of rock bottom. I will turn you into the whore you made the whole world think I am!”

“Agnes,” Oscar shouted balling up the letter, “make sure I don't get any more of these!”

My Girlfriend's Roommate

 8/25

“You told your parents I’m gay?!” Billy gaped incredulously at his girlfriend across the couch. “Are you kidding me?!” He and Amanda had been together a little more than six months and he had just moved permanently into her studio apartment.

“It’s the only way they would let you live here,” Amanda protested. “They still pay the rent, you know? A gay roommate is the perfect way to stop them asking questions. Besides, they are being nice,” She nodded to the half-open envelope in Billy’s hand. “They got you a gift.”

“Did you see what they got me?” He held up a Birthday card with a voucher poking out. “It is a Drag Queen pampering and photoshoot experience day. Looks expensive! I am not sure if I should be offended on behalf of my apparent gay alter-ego, or flattered they want to spend this kind of money on me. It’s almost a shame it is going to be wasted.”

“Oh, you’re doing the shoot!” Amanda frowned. “How else am I going to keep up that you are my roommate if they don’t see pictures? Come on, Billy…” she batted her eyelashes, “I will make it worth it!”

It was three weeks later and Billy had spent the last two hours in a makeup chair being transformed by a larger-than-life character named Josephine - staring into a huge mirror framed with old fashioned lightbulbs and postcards from someone called Isabella as the face that glared back was reshaped and sculpted with countless products. When Josephine was finished, he didn’t even recognise himself from beneath the soft pink lips, frosty eye makeup and curly blonde wig.

He tried to act relaxed as Josephine squeezed him into an enormous dress that looked like a wedding cake and fastened the corset at the back so excruciatingly tight that he could no longer bend enough to see his stilettoed feet. His whole body tingled from the fresh removal of its hair and his face was heavy and stiff, yet he determinedly attempted to adopt a carefree camp demeanour as the artist who had turned him from a scruffy boy in his early twenties into something akin to a Disney princess readied her camera. Billy stuck his hands on his hips and adopted what he thought was a bratty pout.

“Oh, relax, Sweetheart!” Josephine rolled her eyes. “Your acting skills are wasted on me… I know you aren’t gay!” Billy tried to breathe out but the corset continued to clamp his chest. “The Jacksons know you aren’t gay too!”

“Then why…” He blinked as she snapped a photo.

“Why the shoot?” Josephine shot another. “They do this with all Amanda’s boyfriends. I assume it is ammunition for if you ever do anything to hurt her – that or some kind of test. It’s fine by me . Repeat customers keep me in business.” She smiled – confusion looked so sweet on him when he was trussed up like a cupcake. “Okay, so this is his how this will go… They will see the photos and remark how wonderful you look – how vivacious…alive…etc…etc. And so, you will get another voucher at Christmas, or when you get a new job, or just because they are feeling ‘generous’. Trust me, we will be seeing a lot of each other if you want to continue seeing a lot of Amanda. Speaking of which, we still have a few hours of today left. Let’s try out some more looks. I have some shoes that will match your eyes perfectly…”

Doll House Arrest Part 3 [COMMISSION]

 

Lola had been the one to wear stripes criss-crossing a tiny mini-dress. She hummed like it was Christmas morning. “Showtime, doll,” she whispered following a stern knock on the door. Frank’s gut clenched.

The door swung open, revealing Detective Finn Collier - young, straight=laced, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the two beautiful blondes. His eyes flicked from Lola to Frank, and then quickly away, as if staring too long might burn him.“Afternoon, ladies,” Finn said, already fumbling his notepad. “We’re following up on our search for a fugitive.” His gaze darted to Frank again, then skittered away. “I believe one of you was in a relationship with him?”

Lola gasped theatrically, clutching Frank’s hand. “That was such a long time ago. I have moved onto better things now...though I still swing both ways, you know?” She winked and glanced surreptitiously at the studio apartment's double bed.

Finn’s cheeks turned scarlet. “No, miss, I— I didn’t mean—” Frank fought to keep his face neutral. His palms were sweating. Lola’s nails dug warningly into his still clutched palm.

He forced a nervous laugh. “We, uh… we’ve just been keeping to ourselves.” His voice sounded higher, softer than he remembered. Lola had drilled him for a week, and damn it, it worked.

“Oh, yes, how rude of me,” Lola said sweetly, squeezing Frank’s hand even harder. “This is my girlfriend. My everything.” She turned to Frank, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Aren’t you, darling?” Lola leaned forward giving Finn an eyeful of cleavage. “You seem tense, detective. Are we making you nervous? Because we could help with that.” She smirked wickedly, pulling her hand from Frank and swatted him hard across the ass. She then slid an arm around his shoulders. “We’re very… accommodating.”

Frank forced what he thought was a flirtatious grin as his last bit of dignity trickled away . His heart hammered in his chest and Lola’s nails grazed the back of his neck. He forced a shaky wink at Finn. “She’s… not kidding. We, um, like to have fun.”

Finn nearly dropped his pen. “Oh! I—uh—no, that’s— I mean, I should go—” He nearly tripped over his feet, as he turned to the door “Thank you for your time, ladies. You’ve been very helpful.”

Lola waved sweetly as he bolted out the door. The moment it shut, she collapsed into hysterical laughter, clutching her stomach. “Oh, sugarplum! Did you see his face? He thought he’d walked into his wildest dream—or his worst nightmare!”

Frank slumped back, trembling. His reflection in the mirror across the room mocked him: flawless makeup, long lashes, glossy toned legs extending from a patterned figure hugging minidress. He was no longer a fugitive No longer even a man. Just a doll. Lola's doll.

Lola cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her glittering eyes. “See? You pulled it off. You’re all mine now. I can tell the world who you are and they will believe me. You want me to tell them you're my doll...or something else...?”

Frank felt the last of his fight drain away. He was perfectly trapped. “No... I'm your doll...” he whispered.

Doll House Arrest Part 2 [COMMISSION]

Frank adjusted the hem of the dress for the fifth time that morning, though it didn’t need it. The shiny fabric clung like it had been painted on, showing every contour he’d rather forget he now had. His legs — smooth and tanned, looked like they belonged to somebody else entirely. His reflection in the mirror didn’t look like a fugitive. It looked like a woman about to cause a traffic accident.

He groaned. “I don’t know who that is, but it’s not me.”

Behind him, Lola squealed and clapped like a proud mother. “Oh, it’s you, sugarplum. The real you. My vision, brought to life. My doll! You’re a masterpiece. Admit it.” She circled him like he was a museum piece, tugging at his hair extensions, smoothing his foundation. “Do you hear any sirens? No? That’s because nobody’s looking for a big bad bank robber anymore. They’re looking for John Doe with a shotgun. Not Jessica Rabbit in stilettos.”

Frank winced at his own reflection. A week ago he’d been a man on the run. Now he looked like a centerfold. He hated how convincing it was. Even more, he hated that part of him understood exactly what Lola meant.“This is insane,” he said, softer this time. “I can’t stay like this forever.”

“You’ll stay like this until I’m finished,” Lola sang, twirling past him to pluck a leather purse from the dresser. “And when will that be, you ask? When I’m bored. Which, spoiler alert, is never. You’re mine. My doll, my girlfriend, my—” She leaned close to hand him the purse, her eyes psychotically giddy to Harley Quinn proportions, lips brushing his ear. “—perfect alibi.”

Frank stiffened. “Alibi?”

She smiled, wide and unblinking. “Oh, I didn't mention? Tomorrow, a detective is coming over to ask little old me if I’ve seen a certain dangerous fugitive ex of mine. Isn’t that exciting?”

Frank’s stomach dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am!” She kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of lipstick. “And when the nice detective walks through that door, do you know what he’ll see? Not Frank the bank robber. Not my runaway coward. He’ll see my stunning girlfriend. Polished. Perfect. Untouchable.”

Frank stared at the door, expecting in to burst open any moment – police filling the room. “Lola, if I slip up—”

She shushed him with a manic giggle. “You won’t. Because if you do, darling… you’ll go to prison. And between you and me? Stripes don't suit you.” She flitted toward the mirror again, admiring the two of them side by side — her in her bubblegum robe, him in the glossy figure hugging dress. “Tomorrow, sugarplum, you make your debut. And if you’re a good girl…” She winked. “I might even let you pick the earrings.”

Frank felt his stomach twist into knots. Tomorrow. The cops. Despite what Lola said about them being together, he was completely alone – with so much to hide...and what chance did he have if she kept putting him in such revealing outfits...

 

New Orders

 So it's been a while, eh? Almost eighteen months... I'm really sorry about that. I got a pretty big promotion this time last year and simply put, I just don't have the time and energy to work on these big interwoven 25 caption seasons anymore...let alone the caption a day thing I had going on in like 2015. I'm much more inclined right now to do some online gaming right now after a long day at work rather than yet work sitting in front of a computer typing.

That said, how about we change things up so that this doesn't fade into the sands of time. I can't promise season after season of content. But, I can manage a caption a week. How about Missy Mondays? That's a thing. right? Well, it is now! I hope you enjoy, and love you always.

zoli

ames looked at the screen in confusion. A browser was open to the home page of retail titan, Glamazon, and even though he was clearly logged in, his store credit balance was showing as zero. What the hell?! He needed that money! Badly! Times were tough and he and his girlfriend, Sophia, were struggling to make rent as it was. They simply couldn't afford for credit they had planned to spend on basics to go missing like that. Frantically he clicked into his account page and his profile flashed up. Suddenly it all made sense as he realised what had happened and he let out an audible sigh. However, his relief quickly faded to horror as the full understanding of what it meant materialised.

James had a second Glamazon account – one that Sophia didn't know about. Money was scarce and the belt was tight but that didn't mean the temptation of online shopping went away. So, whenever James wanted to defy his frugal partner and treat himself, he logged into his second account and scheduled some orders to arrive when he knew she would be out. Fool proof, as long as he always remembered to log himself out – and as long as his order history didn't include a bunch of forced-feminisation ebooks he absolutely didn't want Sophia to know about. Wondering how obvious it was he had purchased the erotica, he clicked onto his orders page and his heart pounded in his chest as it quickly became clear his girlfriend had already seen it.

Another thing that was clear was the sexy lingerie Sophia had ordered on his account was meant for James – the inclusion of blonde hair-extensions and high heels in his size made sure of this. What was less obvious was how his girlfriend planned to get him into said underwear. He assumed she would blackmail him with his smut collection, in which case he would just refuse and deny everything. If only...

“Sweetheart, stop hiding,” Sophia taunted him from behind, “I want to make sure all our neighbours see what a hot little sissy you make. Don't make me tighten that corset even more!” James gulped and forced himself to totter in front of their large arched window. He could barely breathe as it was and the skin on the small of his back was pinching under the white satin. Surely people in all the other houses on the street had seen him by now. He felt totally exposed in every direction – the glass, his bare waxed skin...even the sheer panties packaging his ass cheeks up for his girlfriend's appreciation. “Come on, sissy, give me my money's worth!” James glanced back with a bruised expression at the mention of their finances. Sophia had never had any intention of keeping his secret. Instead she emptied his bank account via his Glamazon account on a collection of sexy and suggestive outfits. If he didn't like it, he could leave. Not that there was anywhere he could go without a penny to his name. Sophia's name was on the rental contract and so she effectively owned him if he wanted a roof over his head. “Come on, my slutty whore,” Sophia sneered at him, “I want everyone to see my sissy wife to be. I wanted you to buy we a ring but instead you spent all our money on sissy porn so consider this our engagement, only I'm not asking and I won't be the one wearing a dress down the aisle!” James's knees knocked within their silk stockings as he began to understand just how much his dirty little secret was a secret no more...