The Queen Maker Part 2 (Bimbo Note)

 16/25

The silence stretched until Azalea’s tablet pinged. Another notification. Another sneer from a new troll – another moron with no imagination for pseudonyms. She glanced at the Note, then at Rook, who raised a brow in amusement.

“Oh, don’t tell me—”

“Shut up,” Azalea snapped, grabbing the pen she kept with the book. She scrawled the troll's name into the page with a flourish. The letters shimmered, and for a split second she swore she heard giggling echo in the corners of the room.

On her phone, the troll’s comments froze mid-post. Then new pictures began appearing on the feed – a victim's life already rewritten. It was another blonde, more huge breasts, claw like fingernails. The newly minted bimbo was on her knees, a minidress riding up to just below her ass. 'I would get used to that position,' Azalea thought to herself but didn't share with Rook for fear of further derision..

Instead she threw her head back and laughed, wicked and giddy. “There. Amphitheatre enough for you? My whole fanbase gets to watch this idiot’s downfall live.”

Rook clapped once, slow and deliberate. “Better. Much better. But still…small. You’re a pyromaniac playing with sparklers when you could be setting cathedrals ablaze.”

Azalea’s grin faltered just slightly. “So what—you’re here to give me homework? Because despite my black catsuit, I am quite good at playing the naughty schoolgirl... for the right teacher.” Her tablet was pinging ten to the dozen now as her followers sent demands to the new bimbo. She knew they would exploit her creation with all their combined imaginations and the former troll would comply having been reduced to a mindless whore. In that moment, Azalea desperately wanted Rook to leave so she could get back to playing with herself watching the vacant blonde flop her tits around and try to stuff objects into herself.

“Think of it as a mission,” Rook purred, sliding gracefully down from the sofa back. She plucked the Note from Azalea’s lap without asking, turning its heavy pages with gloved fingers. “The world is full of institutions just begging for you to scribble their names. A university. A parliament. A bank. Something with real teeth.”

She handed the book back, her dark eyes glinting. “Do it with style, Azalea. Do it loudly. Otherwise…” She smiled sweetly, cruelly. “…the Note will grow bored. And you’ll find your pretty signature glowing back at you.” 

Azalea stared back at her with cold eyes – her horniness gone and a cold grip on her heart.

Miss-Labelled Part 3

 

Roy tried unsuccessfully to blink one of the heavy false eyelashes from his eye as the room continued to swim around him. How had he got so drunk so fast?! He had never been a lightweight... He closed his eyes in an attempt to concentrate and made a throaty snorting sound. He couldn't even remember how he got back up to the hotel room...

“Hot!” Said an amused male voice, and Roy's eyes shot open. A broad chested man stood at the end of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants absent to reveal a partially tented pair of boxers. The man smirked. “You know, we've worked together for years, and only today do I feel like I am getting to know the real Topaz? You're full of surprises!”

“I am?” Roy groaned as became aware of two vital facts. Firstly, he was naked but for the lingerie set he had picked out to go under Topaz's slutty gym outfit. It was a complicated piece full of snaps and fastenings, was uncomfortable as hell and had taken an age to get on. Secondly, he felt hornier than he ever had in his life. Not the kind of desire he was used to as a man, where the need to fuck was focussed to a point on the epicentre of his cock – but rather a heat that burned from within him like the sun. It was drowning, melting and flying all at once. He started to gasp for air but it just furthered the feeling that his body was trying to turn itself inside out – or rather Topaz's body, and he let out a deep moan.

“Aren't I the lucky one...” The man grinned. “And to think I wouldn't even be here if Roy hadn't taken off so suddenly and the company needed to send a replacement. I mean, I'm sure that new job in France is a great opportunity for him...but no way will the perks be this good...” Roy groaned again and groped his tits. Somewhere in his foggy brain, he knew the man had just said something significant, but all he cared about in that moment was getting off. He began to rub his hot skin and the man took it as an invitation to join him on the bed. As Roy caressed his soft spray-tanned arms, he knew there was something he should remember about them... Something he'd done? Trying to think made his head hurt so he tried to move his hands elsewhere, instinctively moving towards his lace panties – only the man was already there. Together they pulled them down as far as they would go against the stocking straps. The cool air-conditioned hotel room felt amazing against the heat of his exposed sex and Roy felt himself start to drool. This didn't feel right, but he was helpless to deny his body what it needed. In the mistiness of his alcohol riddled brain, a sudden thought hit him.

“Where's Topaz?” He moaned, but the man wasn't listening. He only pushed Roy face down on the bed and with strong hands on his hips began to line himself up. It didn't matter where Topaz was, Roy soothed himself. He would have his revenge once he had sobered up. But already his thoughts were drifting away again with his desires. His body was thrumming. He was panting.

“You know? I would never have guessed you'd be into this.” The man said he pressed his cock on Roy's now dripping pussy. “I probably would have guessed you were a lesbian.” He slid into Roy until his balls slapped against Roy's bloated ass, smiling at the sounds of pleasure it ripped from its recipient. “It just shows, you never really know who someone is on the inside...”

Miss-Labelled Part 2

 

Roy gazed into the bathroom mirror of his hotel suite with a kind of manic glee. The waxy sheen on Topaz's face filled him with dark satisfaction and this was just the beginning. The idea had come to him as he had been sitting at the hotel bar on that first night contemplating how he would avenge his non-binary colleague once he got his body back at the end of the weekend. Mulling over the implied lesson of understanding what it meant for your outside appearance not to match who you were inside, it had struck him like a bolt of lightning. What if he didn't have to wait until he got his body back? He was at the biggest nutrition and cosmetic supplement convention in the country – he could make the body he had right now into whatever he wanted, and Topaz would have to live with it when he returned it.

The beauty stalls had been his first port of call. There had been countless stands performing procedures and giving out samples and within hours, Topaz's lips had been injected with filler to practically bursting point and their face contained more botox than a Hollywood retirement home. He even found a stall offering collagen butt injections – not even bothering to go into the privacy area, he hiked up his dress for the blushing nurse to pump a bumper dose of the fluid into his loaner ass. The best part was that the treatment boasted to increase in volume over a matter of months, meaning Topaz's ass would keep growing and they would never understand why.

Once Roy had Topaz's body looking considerably more slutty, he went in search of other ways to ruin their life. Unexpectedly, he found it in a section of the main hall dedicated to helping women going through menopause. Libidox was a brand new treatment that worked similarly to a birth control implant in that once injected into the patient's arm, it released regular micro-doses of hormones that in the case of Libidox increased the recipient's sex drive. It didn't matter that Topaz was not menopausal since Libidox operated on such a tiny dose that it only had a minor impact. However, Roy was able to find three separate stands offering the implant as a trial, and once the reps occupying the stalls swapped shifts, he went round again. It was only once he had 18 implants in various spots in his arms that he decided it might be unsafe to continue. He didn't want to kill Topaz after all – just release the slut from within. The best part, the micro-doses wouldn't kick in for around 24 hours, by which time he would have long vacated the bitch's body.

Roy knew he ought to feel ridiculous – bleach barely having left his hair and the spray tan hardly dry on his glassy stiff skin, but revenge was too sweet. It was the morning of the final day of the convention and he was about to introduce the world to new and improved Topaz. The outfit he had picked out from a stall selling alternative fitness wear was the final touch – shiny black spandex of the leggings squeezing Topaz's freshly enlarged ass like a ripe piece of fruit. In around 12 hours the hormone implants would start to kick in and the transformation to whore would be complete. By then, Roy would have his co-worker's body well on the way to being drunk to ensure whoever was wearing the 'Topaz' nametag was going to have a night for the ages – and it damn well wasn't going to be him...

Miss-Labelled Part 1

 

It was only the first night of the Annual Nutraceuticals Convention but already the hotel bar was filling up. Roy sat on a high leather stool, carefully folding one leg over the other so he didn't flash his underwear from underneath the micro-dress. His phone and a suitably feminine cocktail sat on the bar in front of him, along with the source of his predicament – a convention nametag on a lanyard with 'Topaz' printed in bold lettering.

“You've got tits for fuck's sake! You're a woman!” When Roy had yelled those words earlier that day at his co-worker, he never thought they would be repeated back to him just hours later. The Annual Nutraceutical Convention was the biggest event in the SuppTech calendar, so when Roy was selected as one of two representatives from the company to attend, he was beyond excited – not least because he was going alongside Topaz, his ultra-hot colleague. Naturally, he assumed the first rule of work conventions – they would sleep together before the weekend was over. Things hadn't got off to the best start, however, as when he tried to flirt and hailed Topaz the hottest woman on the sales team, with a displeased glare, Topaz had declared they were non-binary. “You're shitting me!” Roy had doubled down. “Topaz is a precious stone, right? Like Ruby...Sapphire...JADE!! Hell, I even dated a hippy chick at school called Moonstone!” Needless to say, Topaz hadn't been enamoured by his efforts.

Things only went downhill from there. Their awkwardly silent train journey to the convention was extended by delays and by the time they eventually reached the hotel, they were the last two to arrive – their name badges the only two remaining in the welcome area of the lobby. Roy hurriedly grabbed one of the badges and something akin to static electricity sparked through his body. He stood frozen for a second until he sensed someone standing next to him at the table. To his amazement, he turned and saw himself standing there holding a badge with “ROY” printed in bold. He glanced down at his own badge and while he saw that it did indeed read “Topaz”, it was the fact it was clutched between slender fingers that he did not recognise that held his attention. What the hell?! He muttered in Topaz's lilted voice. He reacted quickly, but not quickly enough, reaching desperately for the tag bearing his own name only for it to be held out of reach by his own body. He tried again but Topaz manoeuvred Roy's much stronger body expertly to keep him at bay before threatening to do something that would ruin his reputation forever if he persisted.

“You've got tits for fuck's sake! You're a woman!” The words, spoken in his own voice, went around and around in Roy's head as he sat at the bar. He would get Topaz back for this! Once he had his nametag...once he had his body back, he would have his revenge. He knew they were trying to teach him a lesson, buying the mini-dress and heels – with Roy's own credit card. Something about gender identity and being made to behave and appear different to the person you were inside. But Topaz had promised if he followed instructions, he would get the nametag, and presumably his body back at the end of the weekend – and he didn't need to learn a lesson. He already knew who Topaz was on the inside. They were...she was a bitch. Sure, he would need to spend the next 36 hours with tits – but he would have the last laugh...

Picture Perfect

 12/25

The shutter snapped closed with a click as another picture was taken, and Liam shuddered, knowing that another layer of what remained of his identity would soon be removed. The photograph would be perfect, of course – to the observing eye anyway. They would see a beautiful young women, her tongue stuck out playfully, round breasts pushed out in a cute red bikini, old fashioned camera clutched in one carefully manicured hand and pointed at the mirror – a vacation snap, maybe... To Liam it may as well have been a mugshot taken right before he was hauled off to prison for a crime he hadn't committed.

When discovered, the camera had seemed like quite the find. Like buried treasure, it was hiding between garments and various other knick-knacks on a shelf at the back of Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly, an new vintage store on the edge of town. As an amateur photographer, Liam had always wanted a film camera, and so the Canon seemed like the perfect find. He had grabbed it at once and carried it to the counter, where he had shoved some bills into the hands of a tall dark woman and, unable to believe his luck, taken his prize home.

Liam's luck hadn't lasted long. Once a film canister had been loaded, he took his first picture of the same thing any young photographer uses for their first snap – himself. As soon as the shutter closed for the first time, there was an odd jolt that travelled up his arm to his head. It was as if something had been transferred into him – a thought, an idea...a compulsion. He had instantly taken another picture. By the end of his impromptu shoot, he had used the entire file, and oddly in the later pictures he had been wearing lipstick.

But the camera hadn't been satisfied. With every new selfie Liam took, the need to look more feminine grew. It was not a want – he did not desire to be a woman. It was a need. With every photograph, the camera was compelling him to look more perfect...more female. Liam was merely its helpless model.

Lip-filler followed, as did hair extensions, but the camera wanted more. Liam found himself buying women's clothing, and then wearing it. When he didn't fill it out, the camera insisted its puppet get breast implants and start taking hormones that would reshape his entire body. In six short months, Liam was transformed from nerdy photographer to someone who looked born to be the other side of the lens.

Liam tried to put down the camera, but he knew by now it was no use. He felt one of his French tipped fingers needle the top of his red bikini briefs and then stroke the final remaining piece of his male form, albeit shrivelled by the rounds of hormones. 'Not that', he groaned to no-one, but he knew it was futile. His other hand reached out for his phone as if guided by marionette strings, and he watched in horror as it began to type “bottom surgery” into the search engine.

Dungeons and Damsels Part 3

 

“But the Black Veil is not only perilous... it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part!” As the hooded woman on the screen continued the tale, Toby had to admit he felt pretty powerful right now. Despite the lithe female form he now occupied, clothed in the skimpiest of bikinis barely concealing a pair of heaving breasts, he did hold a giant sword. There was also Steve... His friend, who had started out as a knight, had just rolled a seventeen on the pink lust dice and was now a lingerie clad bride kneeling at Toby's feet, clutching at his legs with one hand while moaning 'My Queen...My Queen!' over and over, her other hand hovering just over the hem of her panties. “And already, you are being watched!” The woman was smirking. “Shapes gather in the distance. Slow. Deliberate. Curious. Creatures of this region know the legends well… and one truth above all: The Demon Queen does not travel with male companions.” Devon glanced at Toby nervously. “A queen with guards invites suspicion. A queen with prisoners invites fear. So before those figures draw close, you must wear the shackles, and be prepared to explain how you were broken.”

“The shackles...” Devon repeated dumbly looking at the pair he had retrieved from the box. “At least they are better than...that!” He stared blankly at Steve, who was now trying to run his tongue up the inside of one of Toby's toned thighs. Fearing similar consequences, Devon quickly slipped the rusted shackles around the huge muscular ankles of his mercenary's body. The ethereal glow returned, this time filling the entire house. When it eventually faded, the hooded woman was in the room with them.

“Excellent!” She smiled, dropping her cloak to reveal she was otherwise completely naked. Toby instinctively looked away, only to find himself staring directly at his friend...or at least what had become of him. Devon, far from the towering hulk he had been, was now a short but curvy woman with floppy blonde hair and thick layered makeup. Her voluptuous body was squeezed by a black leather corset and she shuffled awkwardly in thigh high latex boots that were still clasped together at the ankles by the shackles. A look of panic filled Devon's now pretty face and he blushed hard – the belt fastened around his throat giving his head the effect of a bulging red balloon. “My Dear...” The naked Dungeon Master demanded in an authoritative tone. “Pull up your gloves! You are a prisoner, not a whore!” Devon reached to the tops of the vinyl gloves that had slackened on his arms and hurriedly tried to pull them back over his elbows. “Which reminds me...” The woman continued while picking up a small black and gold dice from the box. “You still need to roll to determine how submissive a prisoner you will be!” She dropped the dice onto one of Devon's gloved hands but it immediately slid off the shiny material to the floor. “Ooops!” She gasped in mock horror. “Twenty!” She licked her lips as Devon's new form seemed to shrink and cower before her. “Now...” She grasped the cat-o-nine-tails and nodded to Toby with the feminised Steve curled around his feet like a kitten and then to the trembling latex clad Devon quivering before her own. “Now the real quest begins. Or maybe I should say...conquest!” The thunder boomed once more and the room glowed with a new intensity as the three friends felt themselves being sucked towards the monitor in the corner of the room.

Dungeons and Damsels Part 2

 

“This is getting creepy!” Exclaimed Devon carrying the wooden box into the house. It looked tiny in the giant hands his transformation into the mercenary had bestowed upon him and he clutched it to his muscled chest like a newborn before carefully setting in down on his friend's dining table.

“Now it's getting creepy?” Toby's jaw dropped open. “I have tits!” He swatted Steve's reaching hand away defensively before pressing his own into his bikini top. “They feel real...I think... I've never had boobs before!” He stopped groping himself to watch Devon emptying the contents from the box – several multi-coloured, multi-sided dice, an ancient looking ring, a cat-o-nine-tails whip, a pair of shackles and a small collection of coins.

“The night hangs heavy...” All three boys whirled around to face the computer monitor. The hooded woman was speaking – she seemed closer now, more alive as if she were about to pop right out of the screen. Thunder crashed once more outside. “The road ahead swallowed by a dark that seems to breathe. You stand on the edge of the Black Veil, a place unclaimed, unwatched...unforgiving. Those who enter speak of shadows that listen, and eyes that linger just beyond the firelight. And yet here you are...a Mighty Knight, bound by honour...an Indomitable Mercenary, hardened by survival...and a Demon Queen, whose presence alone unsettles the air. Three figures. One dangerous road. But the Black Veil is not only perilous… it is observant. Appearances matter here. Power must look the part. A lone queen draws questions. So before you take another step...which of you will pose as the Demon Queen's tryst? Which of you will wear her ring?”

“I guess she means this!” Steve held up the old box Devon had retrieved from the box. “I guess it should be me. What kind of a knight would I be if I didn't protect my queen?” He slipped it on his finger and his body instantly took on an ethereal glow. His armoured form shrank until all that remained was a delicate feminine form dressed in bridal lingerie. Steve blinked in stunned silence from within his new body, pawing helplessly with a gloved hand at a pair of silk stockings that now encased his legs.

“As the Demon Queen's new bride, your devotion to her is unmatched!” The Dungeon Mistress announced from inside the monitor. “Roll the green dice to decide how deep your dedication runs!” Toby put down his giant sword and handed a ten sided dice to the cowered feminised Steve, who barely touched it, allowing it to fall to the floor and display a nine. No sooner had the dice stopped moving then Steve felt an electricity run through him, captivating him. He looked up at the warrior queen who had handed him the dice with steely loyalty. He would die for her. “Of course...” The cloaked woman on the screen continued. “Devotion alone is not enough to sustain romance. The Demon Queen's bride must lust her – she must yearn her touch move than life itself. Roll the pink dice to decide how deep the need to satisfy your queen really goes!” Willed forward my his newfound devotion, with quivering lace covered hands, Steve picked up the giant twenty sided dice, and rolled it on the floor...

Dungeons and Damsels Part 1

 

“Okay, she's hot and everything...” Devon sighed at the AI generated cloaked woman that had appeared behind the heavy looking table on his friend's computer monitor. “But doesn't using a digital version of a dungeon master kind of defeat the point of table top gaming? At this point we may as well fire up the PlayStation...”

“Hey, no one was stopping you from putting a campaign together.” Toby shrugged. “Besides, it's free. If it's no good, we can stop and you can walk home in the storm.” As if to emphasise his point, thunder crashed outside and the two boys, along with their friend Steve looked warily at the blinking bulb swinging above Toby's attic.

The trio had been meeting almost every weekend to play out Dungeons and Dragons campaigns for nearly fifteen years, but since their buddy Ryan had left for college two months ago, they had been without a Dungeon Master. Ryan had promised to lead campaigns via Zoom calls but after three weeks of being away, he had plundered a fair maiden of his own and spending Saturday nights teeing up monsters for his old pals to knock down no longer held the same appeal. The boys had looked for a new fourth with no luck leading to Toby, inspired by their brief experience with a Zoom based DM, having the idea to seek out a virtual master to plot their dungeon crawling.

“Hey, it's starting!” Steve put down his beer and belched loudly. On the monitor, fog was circling around the cloaked woman as she rose from behind the table. Pulling her hood back to reveal frosty white hair and icy cool grey eyes, her sinister smile appeared to reach through the screen and forcibly hold their gaze. The mist continued to swell around her until it occupied the bottom half of the screen. The heads of three figures emerged from the fog above the command – 'CHOOSE YOUR CHAMPIONS!'

“The Mighty Knight, the Indomitable Mercenary...the Demon Queen.” Devon read aloud. “Well, the knight sounds generic as hell and while I don't know what Indomitable means, screw playing as a girl. I choose the mercenary!” As if hearing him, the character glowed on the screen. Steve quickly chose the knight and the armoured figure also glowed, leaving the party's host to select the Demon Queen.

“Grow up, guys.” Toby sighed. “It's just a gaaaamm...” But even before he could finish his sentence the room began to glow around them. All three boys felt a pulsing beneath their skin as their bodies slowly transformed – Devon into a bare chested brute covered in scars, Steve into a regal looking soldier wrapped in chain-mail...and Toby into lithe blonde creature dressed in little more than a tiny bikini ordained with skulls and a pair of gauntlets fashioned from a shiny black material. He blinked at the enormous sword that had appeared in his slender hands, and then turned to the computer monitor where a message had appeared. 'Prepare to receive your tools!' In spite of the storm raging outside, all three boys heard a thunderous boom at the front door...

The 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...”

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.  

Life Stream Part 4

 

Avoiding being seduced as a glamorous woman was one thing, but Jonah was still a slave to the body and whims of a babe from a perfume ad. He needed to find a way out. He had managed to keep the rich men largely at arms length all tight but he had been able to read their intentions just fine. He had seen in their eyes what they wanted to do to him – the way they stole glances at his body when they thought he wasn't looking. They were like hungry sharks – ready to whisk him back to a thousand dollar a night hotel room and pound him like a piece of meat that needed tenderising. He shuddered in revulsion in the morning twilight.

The experience had taught him that there were worse outcomes than his girlfriend tormenting him with the TV remote and in a way he guessed he had deserved her teasing. He had destroyed her tape... Pulling the fur jacket tight around his shoulders, Jonah started to walk through town in the direction of home. The buildings around him grew shabbier, the shadows longer, the stares colder, and before he knew it, he was in one of the town's less desirable districts – certainly not somewhere for a glammed up billboard babe dripping with expensive jewellery to find herself. He clutched the purse firmly, feeling the phone inside, and an idea suddenly came to him. He knew exactly how to break the curse. He was a genius.

Like every guy his age he knew with too much time on his hands, Jonah had attempted in the recent past to start his own podcast. It failed, of course, the world just wasn't ready for his movie rankings and sports tips, but the videos were still on YouTube and Twitch. Clacking long nails against the touchscreen, he pulled one up and saw himself – huge headphones atop his head and a cigar in one hand. His body transformed instantly. He had won. He even got to enjoy the cigar in the morning sun as he strolled towards home.

After about an hour, a searing pain had built in the arches of his feet. An entire night of walking in heels had taken its toll and transforming back into his own body had offered little respite. Still, he was free now, and if he had to sit on the curbside to rest, so be it. Now, with a moment to reflect on the past day, he realised how humiliated he felt by the whole thing. He had spent the past twelve hours in panties, being groped...sitting down to pee. The need to reaffirm his masculinity somehow grew inside him. But how? He just had his phone and a nearly spent cigar. Of course, he smirked to himself pulling out his phone and switching to incognito mode. His testosterone spiked as the first video began, and all he could think was thank God he had broken the curse.

At least he thought he had. The woman in the video had been stretching an obscene excuse for a dress around a set of impossible curves as she prepared to satisfy five men with cartoonish urgency, And so, now did Jonah... His breath hitched in his chest as he put one hand on the inside of his leg and began to draw it up his thigh. He had never felt so horny in his entire life. The woman in the video was saying how much she needed her holes filling and he felt every bit of it. Pushing himself up off the curb, he stumbled off in search of someone to scratch his itch...of anyone to scratch his itch...

Life Stream Part 3

 

Jonah didn't get far before the stares started. He wasn't sure if people were recognising Claudette from television or if the sight of a drop-dead gorgeous blonde sprinting down the street in six-inch heels was enough to garner the public's attention. Nevertheless, he found himself enjoying the gazes on him – especially those from guys. One man rolled down the window of his expensive sports-car to wolf-whistle at him and Jonah instantly felt giddy with pride, and, was that...arousal? Realising, this sexual attraction to the sight of a rich older man came from the character he occupied, shame surged in him, but it was a shame that was caged deep within his buxom body. Try as he might, Jonah just couldn't overpower the base urges and characteristics written into the bimbo housewife.

His head was still fuzzy with wine but Jonah still had enough wits to realise he needed a plan. He had a leopard print purse over one shoulder and it contained a cellphone, but this clearly belonged to Claudette as it was covered in hot pink fur and was full of numbers for characters from the show. Groaning with frustration, he started to walk towards town. Mercifully, he found that he could walk effortlessly in the towering heels, gliding down the footpath with a grace that turned yet more heads. At last, the high-rise buildings of the city's center rose above him. Businesses and restaurants flashed their signage in neon in the darkening sky. Once he reached the main square, these were replaced with hi-tech billboards and once more Claudette's instincts took over, and he found himself raising his head to admire the offerings of the luxury brands offering their products. Jonah realised his mistake immediately.

It was a perfume brand – its new fragrance advertised on a thirty foot television screen by a glamorous starlet at a staged red carpet event. Her perfect curves were wrapped in shimmering gold that draped down to her ankles, and she was holding a snow white fur cape around herself. And now, so was Jonah...

The advert starred a young woman who insisted on only the best – the finest, more exquisite things in life. And that's how Jonah spent the night cruising the city's more expensive night-clubs. Not that he had to pay for any of them, of course. Everywhere he went, he found that he could bat his eyelashes or flick his silky golden hair and men in suits would be falling over themselves to open doors for him, or to lift the rope to allow entry to bars that had seconds earlier proclaimed to be full. Colorful drinks were pushed at him and quizzical hands explored his lower back and butt, guiding him onto dancefloors, against tall dark strangers and ultimately into the back of a limo – and his body duly obliged. It told him it liked being treated like a trophy – like an expensive prop that could be fondled and worshipped by men with bulging wallets. Yet, Jonah was thankful that while he felt powerless to the seduction of the wealth and power of the men who courted him, he never felt desire for them. They were as much shiny props to him as he was to them, and so when at last the limo pulled up outside the Hotel Grande at 6am the following morning, he was relieved to be able to offer a dignified wave as the driver let him out, and glide off into the sunrise.

Life Stream Part 2

 

It took Fiona all of ten seconds to get over her shock of seeing her boyfriend transformed into the body of the comic book demon, Raven, and recall her fury at him for having destroyed her treasured copy of Ghost in the Shell with the mysterious not-a-VCR he had found in the attic. Seeing Jonah with bulging breasts squeezed into the shiny leotard was satisfying but not as satisfying as it would be if she could break the cool composed demeanour he seemed to have adopted from Raven along with her body. If he had somehow become a human mirror, both inside and out, of whatever character was on their television, there were surely more vulnerable avatars she could use to avenge her destroyed anime.

Snatching up the Webflix remote, she switched over to a pro-wrestling show. As before, Jonah instantly transformed into the person on the screen – this time it was a fearsome looking female grappler with tattoos and wrestling gear that resembled a bondage outfit. Clearly, the amazon's power and rage also rippled through Jonah and he instantly demanded the remote in an exaggerated aggressive manner as if it were a title belt. Seeing the towering figure striding across the room towards her, Fiona fumbled to select another show. A diminutive drag queen in a shimmering gown tripped over a ridiculous pair of eight-inch pumps at her feet.

“Oh, Darling!” The figure exclaimed dramatically. “Why don't you give me that thing before someone breaks a nail...in someone else's throat.” Jonah blinked and felt heavy fake lashes swish down to his cheeks. He didn't know why he just said that – he just did. It wasn't his voice or even his words. He felt the emotion...the anger...the fear, but when he released it, that's how it came out through the drag queen's catty filter. Just as with the woman wrestler body – he knew what he wanted...the remote, but the body had its own 'way'...its own language and he was nearly helpless to control it.

Fiona used his fall as a opportunity to choose another show. This time it was an old sitcom Jonah recognised from a few years back – 'Playing House'. The bimbo housewife character was on the screen, the one they killed off after the first season with a giant wedding cake – Claudette – and so, that was who Jonah found himself as now. He was encased in her signature style, a tight leathery pair of high-cut leggings and fuck-me heels. He had drooled over her countless times in those outfits, and now he was her. Whimsical sexual thoughts filled his mind along with a fugue that could only come from midday red wine. He breathed deeply and heaving breasts rose and fell on his chest. Even Fiona was spellbound by them and for a moment they just stared at each other. He pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter to get his weight off the uncomfortable heels with a squeak of leather on polished wood. On the television, his counterpart was ditzily preparing dinner whilst spilling out of her top to the pleasure of the studio audience. The blonde on screen took another slug of wine and the haze in Jonah's head grew. 'I am a slave to that thing', he realised. 'I need to get away from it before Fiona goes too far!' Sliding back down onto the pumps, he balanced himself, took one final look at his girlfriend, and broke for the front door...

Life Stream Part 1

 

“What in the actual hell, Jonah!?” Fiona gaped open-mouthed from her boyfriend to the smoking mess on their living room floor. A plastic and metal box sat wired to their television – a green chemical mist streaming from an opening on the one side. “Wait! Is that my original Ghost in the Shell tape?” She cried noticing a familiar yet empty VHS box next to the device. “Jonah, I swear to God! That tape better not be in whatever that things is. I can't get another copy of that!”

“Relax, Fi...” Jonah shook his head dismissively. “It's fine...just a bit of smoke. I found this thing in the attic and was just checking if it still worked. I'm the one who got electrocuted hooking it up. Your tape is safe!” A cluster of orange flames shot from the opening in the device. “Well... would you look at that...” He gazed sheepishly at his furious girlfriend.

Once the smouldering machine had been safely disposed of, the couple launched into a furious argument – Fiona adamant that Jonah had destroyed an irreplaceable artefact, and her boyfriend determined to protest it was an innocent mistake.

“Look, Fi! I don't see why it's such a big deal. It was just one tape and nobody watches VHS any more anyway. WebFlix is full of that Anime stuff you like!” He scooped up the remote from the sofa and used it to select the first animated show he saw on the menu to prove his point. Even as the opening credits began to roll, Jonah's body was overwhelmed by an odd sensation. The ceiling above him seemed to get higher and his clothing shrunk into him like a deflating balloon – the material morphing into a shiny alien fabric that squeezed his middle uncomfortably. His eyes went wide as huge breasts stretched the material and yet a calming monologue played in his head. 'Contain it. Do not unravel. This shame will pass.' Around him, the room appeared to dim...not just the room...the world! Even the birds outside seemed to be chirping in a minor key. Fiona stared at him, open-mouthed. “This is sub-optimal,” he muttered wrapping the cape that just materialised onn his back around him. “That machine is a herald of suffering.” He sighed thinking of what he had thought was a VHS player.

“Jonah?” Fiona exclaimed in a blend of shock and wonder. “Is that still you in there? You look just like Raven... You're acting just like Raven...” She looked him up and down, starting at his thigh-high boots right up to his newly purple hair. “You're also kind of hot!”

“You're very observant,” Jonah felt the words flow from him like a reflex. His voice was cold and monotone but distinctly feminine. His heart was pounding in panic but something was driving him to repress it. “This complicates things,” he nodded down to his new form, and then to the garbage can that not contained the device. “That's not a VCR,” he said bluntly, “it's a transformation device. It may play tapes, but that is just a secondary function.”

The Purest Gift Part 4

 

By the time Laurence had completed a working day in Esme's shoes, not to mention her body and vibrating panties, he had come seven times. His underwear was soaked and chaffed his ass at least as painfully as Gloria's catsuit had. Every time he felt the heat start to grow in his loins, his cheeks flushed with humiliation and though he averted his eyes from his co-workers, he knew they knew. Is this how Esme had felt every time? She had a world class business mind and he had treated her like nothing more than a toy. He hadn't made her wear a buttplug – that seemed to have been some kind of transference from his experience as Gloria, but like the actress, he had used her shamelessly. Laurence wasn't sure if this was all real, but the guilt sure was.

“Well done, Laurence!” The waif's voice reverberated in his head. “You have faced your guilt. You have cleansed yourself of the pain your past actions have caused. You are pure once more. You are now ready to receive the Gift!” Laurence's heart thudded in his chest as once more the walls swirled like the filmed edge of a bubble and began to close on him. When they washed through him, the world went black.

Laurence regained consciousness to find himself outside in the hot sun. He looked around himself at the yellow rock and realised he was at the entrance of the cave, where his adventure had began. Raising his arms to check for cuts and bruises, his breath caught in his throat. They were soft and slender and slightly sun-kissed. A gold bracelet clasped his narrow wrist. Frantically, he assessed the rest of himself. He was still in Esme's body. Gone was the humiliating office attire and in its place was an elegant figure hugging white dress, but her curves remained – her pinched waist, long limbs and round breasts all remained.

“Congratulations on receiving the Gift!” The ethereal voice beamed down on him with the sun. “Your absolution! You are forgiven! You are pure once more! No longer will you carry the crimes of the pain you caused others – for you have faced them and come out the other side...transformed!” Indeed, when Laurence searched his feelings and thought about what he had done to Gloria and Esme, he felt nothing. He felt no guilt, no pain...he was cleansed...but he was also a woman! He looked around wildly for...what?! Anything! This couldn't be the gift!? It just couldn't!? “What's wrong?” The voice asked. “Don't be ungrateful, Laurence! Forgiveness is the greatest Gift a man can receive. But it is not one given lightly. Your transgressions were particularly cold and so you needed a reminder to stay pure...a permanent reminder. There is one more thing...well, two actually!” The voice paused and Laurence yelped as he felt the cold steel of a buttplug growing inside his ass, splitting his newly pert backside in half, and on cue, panties he didn't even know he was wearing started to vibrate furiously. “If you ever slip from your purity,” the voice continued, “I reserve these two reminders to keep you so. These are my gifts...to myself.” The waif's laughter floated away on the breeze.

The Purest Gift Part 3

 

It took Laurence what felt like an eternity to traverse the snowy countryside. He didn't know if time existed in this place, whatever it was, but his ass rubbed raw by the latex catsuit and invaded by the steel of the buttplug definitely acknowledged its passing. This is what Gloria had endured that day he realised as he approached the lodge where they had spent the night. And how had he rewarded her? By demanding she suck him off in front of the fireplace and never calling her in spite of the promises he had made to enhance her acting career. Shame washed over him and not just because of the degrading situation he found himself in.

“Your cleansing is going well!” The ethereal voice whistled with the swirling snow. “But there is more to be done!” Laurence realised that the sky seemed to be closing in on him...like a bubble shrinking. Soon it was just above his head and then it engulfed him covering his face and he suddenly remembered how he had finished on Gloria's face on that day he just experienced. Unknown to her, it would be their goodbye.

When the world reappeared Laurence found himself bending forward, barely holding his balance. He was back inside at least – somewhere he recognised in fact. It was his offices back in Manhattan, noisy and bustling with people. He was face to face with a filing cabinet and he was overbalanced because he was wearing a pair of towering heels. The steel of the buttplug was still clenched between his ass but it felt different somehow. He felt different, and not because he was no longer wearing the ridiculous latex outfit. A chill breathed against the backs of his thighs – a gap left by the different materials of his dress – the polyester of an obscenely short skirt and the nylon of a pair of stockings. At once he knew who he was.

Esme was his office manager. She was hugely overqualified for the role, boasting a phD and an IQ pushing 150 but he had promised a future that included a boardroom position to obtain someone of her exquisite beauty to run his office. Once she was onboard, he had gleefully moved the goalposts to test her ambitions, insisting on scandalous office-wear – skirts that failed to cover her sculpted ass, lip-fillers and.... Laurence crashed into the cabinet as the vibrating panties suddenly activated. He clutched the metal gasping as the underwear buzzed relentlessly, teasing his body to its limit. A moan escaped his lips and he imagined the busy office stopping to watch his debasement. The trigger, he knew, was in his desk drawer. He had kept it near him for almost a year until Esme had finally tired of waiting for the promotion that would never come. She had been a genius and he had used her as a toy.

The panties went up a gear and Laurence was barely able to stay standing. He wanted to sit but feared inadvertently driving the buttplug even further up his ass. Instead, he clung to the drawers with his ass stuck out and only half-covered by the tiny skirt, grunting through gritted teeth as the entire office watched his first female orgasm.

The Purest Gift Part 2

 

“To be worthy of the Gift, you must be pure! To be pure, you must face your past transgressions!. You must endure... Will you endure. Laurence?” The voice echoed and expanded into a hollow whistle, and Laurence's bubble expanded with it. Growing until it filled the cavern, it seemed to paint the walls with sky and the ground with snow until with a shrill pop, he realised he was outside.

Laurence scanned the horizon of endless farmland covered in snow. He knew this place. He'd been here years ago. Switzerland... Suddenly, he realised why his reflection in the bubble had been so familiar...Gloria!

Laurence tried to move forward and almost fell head first into the snow. The skis attached to his feet having not been there seconds before, felt alien and only the poles that had appeared from nowhere in his hands, saved him. There was a squeaky crackle and the shiny material of his snow-suit rubbed painfully across his body...up his legs, over his ass...his breasts. No, this was wrong!? How could he be Gloria?!

Gloria had been a young tv soap actress Laurence had a brief fling with years before. She had been a whirlwind of energy and ambition, but she had also been desperate...insecure. Laurence had told her he could use his power to open doors for her. All she had to do for him was...

The details of the trip to Switzerland formed in Laurence's memory. The latex ski-suit he had picked out for Gloria – him insisting she be completely naked underneath. She had done as he asked of course and Laurence had ignored her forced smile to stare at her ass all day as she uncomfortably shifted from one ski to another. Laurence's mouth went dry as he remembered the other thing he had insisted on.

The steel buttplug made him feel fuller than he had ever been in his life. It was if were being split in two. He groaned low and feminine and steam blew from his pink lips. He had made Gloria ski 20 miles in nothing but a latex catsuit with a plug jammed up her ass, and never given her the fame she wanted. And now he was Gloria? Was this the cleansing the waif spoke about? Would he have to make the same journey? He tried to push himself forward over the white powder and it was immediately apparent that he was far weaker that he was used to. Gloria's slender frame held a fraction of the strength of his toned body. He managed five meters before dropping his poles to the snow and putting his hands on his rubber clad knees with exhaustion. As he did so, the buttplug shifter awkwardly in his ass. Holy shit, the Gift better be worth it, he thought gritting his teeth.

The Purest Gift Part 1

 This is a commission I did for DeviantArt

Noone knew what the Gift was – yet everyone knew it was worth having. They knew it was worth sacrificing everything to find it. The legendary treasure hidden somewhere in the caves just outside the Italian village of Femini attracted thousands of would be adventurers from around the world every year. Each desperate to be the one to discover the mythical artefact and reap its priceless rewards. Yet the caves that held the supposed prize were expansive and treacherous and many an experienced explorer had plundered their depths and never been seen again. Even still, every year that passed brought a fresh wave of heroes hunting fame and fortune.

None came more determined than Laurence Dodd – a billionaire playboy adrenaline junkie who rarely encountered a desire he couldn't buy or an obstacle he couldn't steamroller. The Gift was one of such rare treats that eluded him and so his need to acquire it had grown into something of an obsession.

Laurence's latest attempt was his most determined yet. Despite, plunging himself into the caverns alone, he made good progress over a number of days through the depths. He was no stranger to using people or exploiting assistance to get what he wanted, but he took no chances when it came to searching out the Gift. He could think of nothing worse than being made to share the treasure or worse, the recognition for finding it.

In spite of his progress, the caves had been a rough mistress and by the time Laurence reached a wide underground opening on the fifth day of his excursion, he was covered in dirt and bruises, bleeding from numerous places including one of his ears, and almost out of both food and drink. Upon noticing that the latest cavern was full of large bubbles floating out of a small rock-pool of glowing turquoise water, he thought he was hallucinating. It didn't help when the ethereal form of a waif of a woman appeared in one of the bubbles and started to speak to him.

“You must be tired,” she said softly, “you must be determined to have persevered this far. You must really want the Gift.” Laurence's attention peeked at the mention of his quarry. “But are you worthy of the Gift? You must be pure! You must be cleansed of your transgressions! You must be tested to see if you are worthy, but first you must be cleansed! Shall I cleanse you, Laurence?” The bubble rose above him and he nodded. Even as his head continued to bob, another huge bubble floated towards him and encapsulated his body. Instantly, the dirt, the bruises, the cuts and blood, all vanished and his skin was washed smooth. It became soft. It became feminine. Laurence saw his reflection in the surface of one of the bubbles and a beautiful woman stared back. He thought he recognised the face but his mind was swimming with the shock of what was happening. “Good!” The waif stared at him from her bubble. “Now you are ready to be tested!”