Sisterhood

 This is my entry to a caption contest on DA

“Hiding in plain sight – it really is your only way out of this!” Sylvia had sounded so self-assured as she outlined her brother's (lack of) options, so much so that Frank was already wondering if he would have been better off taking his chances with Cherry and her friends as some of his other frat brothers had. Horrified shrieks cascading down the corridors of the Alpha-Pi sorority house quickly put paid to that notion, and he quickly turned back to his sister. More screams added exclamation points to just how perilous his situation was standing in Sylvia's doorway – and yet she had named her terms. Could he really do what she was asking?! She was his younger sister yet in that moment hold untold amounts of power over him – and it would be more, if he let her. He once more considered his options as a sustained howl of horror travelled from somewhere else in the house. Unable to meet Sylvia's eye, he nodded his agreement and pushed past her into her bedroom.

The Beta Tan Omega panty raid had began to go awry even as it started. Not that they hadn't done their homework – they had spent weeks scoping out the Alpha-Pi house, and yet when they climbed through an open window they found the sorority as silent as a trap. When the commotion broke, he recognised a girl he knew as Cherry and her friends grab Mark, their leader, and like a damsel in a bad horror movie, Frank took off up a flight of stairs. And yet, he had an ace in the hole – as he sprinted along the sorority corridor with blood pulsing in his veins past bedroom doors decorated with girls' names, he scanned for one in particular – Sylvia. His sister was a freshman and one of the newest additions to the Alpha-Pi sorority – she was also his ticket out of this disaster. He just hadn't expected such a steep price.

Almost an hour later, Frank emerged back into the corridor. The house was quiet once again and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest – somewhere beneath the clinging material of the metallic wraparound dress Sylvia had given him to wear. Fastened around his neck, it plunged down his front, past his crotch and back up over his butt like a leotard before wrapping around his waist like a miniskirt. He didn't even know how to begin taking it off. Sullenly, he stared down at his feet and got a sinking feeling as he saw the spools of white leather tied around his ankles to hold the platform sandals in place. His sister had even added the finishing touch of matching toenail polish. Come to think of it, she had added a lot of finishing touches – the purse, the watch, he already had long hair he'd been growing since starting college, but she had smoothed it flat with her straightening tongs. He had never known his younger sister to be so authoritative but she did hold all the cards. Yet how was he going to get all this stuff off?!

“Your initiation starts tomorrow!” Sylvia appeared behind him in the doorway. “I suggest you take one of those empty bedrooms. It is quite demanding – you'll need your rest!” Frank peered back at her in shock. “All new sisters need to undergo initiation.” His sister explained sternly. “Or,” she nodded down the corridor to where Cherry and some other girls were dragging a screeching blonde bimbo that was barely recognisable under a year's supply of cosmetics as Mark, “you can take your chances with Cherry... I think you might look good with huge boobs glued to your chest..

Season 8 Epilogue - Saving Grace Part 3 (Pink n Prissy Collective)

 26/25

Thank you to everyone who ready my latest season of captions. Please stay tuned for news on Season 9 coming soon!!

The first two parts of this story were earlier in the season but you can catch all of my Pink n Prissy Collective captions on my index page.

“I am telling you guys,” Terri beamed to the rest of the Pink n Prissy Collective - as she led them through the entrance hall of their shared house, “I really think Grace is making progress. She just needs to get her first boy under her belt. Once she gets some poor sucker in panties, there will be no slowing her down.”

“Totally!” Charlotte agreed. “She just needs to find her thing. What is those cop shows always call it? Her MO? Once she has her method under her fingers...I agree with Terri. She will be unstoppable.”

“Modus Oper...Holy shit!” Cassie dropped her purse to the floor as the girls passed into the house's shared living space. Grace stood before them – her baggy hoodie gone, replaced by a sleek leather biker jacket and skinny jeans. But that wasn't what had stopped the girls short, for in front of Grace should another figure – one with soft curled brown hair, subtle feminine makeup and flowery cinched summer dress. “Grace...you did this?”

“I did,” Grace's cheeks went pink but pride shone from her smile. “Meet Alec – in a former life, he was the boy with bad breath that caught the bus at the same stop as me. Now, he is cleaned up, improved..pretty. Hell, he is Pink n Prissy!”

“He sure is!” Josie admired her work, approaching the feminised boy and inspecting his outfit – noting the slightly odd vacant expression he was wearing. “So, how did you do it?” She probed with curiosity. “Did you use your charms like Chralotte? Hypnosis? Did you drug him? Slip him horribly addictive candy?”

“Well, that's the funny thing...” Grace shifted with discomfort. “At first I was getting nowhere. I tried the flirtatious approach, but nothing was happening. We were just hanging out in the city. It was like I was being reverse friend-zoned. And then we went into this weird shop. They had these strange dolls and as soon as I saw them, I just had to have them.” She gestured to a figure just over a foot tall stood on the chair next to Alec. “As soon as we got out of the shop with these in my bag, it was like a switch had been flipped. Alec seemed willing to do whatever I asked. It was easy.”

“These?” Terri echoed.

“Yes!” The light in Grace's eyes reignited. “I bought five of them – one for each of us. I thought they could be like our mascots. I got a great deal too. That shop had all sorts of awesome stuff. You guys should totally check it out. It is called 'Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly'...”

Raising the Bar

 

Garth came from a family of lawyers. His father was a criminal defence attorney, his mother was in mergers and for the past six years Garth had been practising family law. It seemed inevitable that his younger sister, Kayleigh, would follow in the traditional – if only she could just pass the bar... When she came hammering on his door on the evening of her latest attempt, tears streaming down her face, his question was not whether she had failed – it was how did she know so quickly.

“It's all computerised now,” she explained in between gasping sobs. “You know your score right away. Oh, Garth, it's so unfair... You know I would have got it this time if it wasn't for Greg!” Greg was Kayleigh's long term boyfriend, who had ungraciously ditched her just two days before the prestigious exam, apparently realising that the long hours she had dedicated to studying the law was a sign of what was to come rather than a short-term hurdle to overcome. “I haven't been able to concentrate since he left... Oh, Garth, I can take a makeup test tomorrow but if I fail that, I can't retake for another year!” She buried her face in his shoulder. “There's no way I can pass the bar tomorrow,” she continued to cry before stopping abruptly. She pulled back from her brother and studied his face. “But...you can...”

The next day, Garth was sat at a laptop inside the exam room. Identical desks surrounded him signalling the smallest of mercies – he was the only person doing the makeup test today. Apparently his oath to hold up the law, not to mention his dignity, was no match for his fierce loyalty to his family and a pair of puppy-dog eyes. To Kayleigh's credit, she had done a sterling image recreating him in her image. As siblings, they were physically similar anyway, but a few pounds of cosmetics and a hastily bought wig had blurred the lines completely. When he had started to look through his sister's outfits for something sensible and conservative to wear, she had stopped him and insisted something suggestive just in case it could win favour with the examiners in some way, That's how he had ended up in a figure-hugging white dress with buttons down the front that frankly looked like it was missing the skirt. Completing the exam with one waxed leg crossed over the other felt absurd.

The biggest problem, however, was an unexpected one. Garth had passed the bar the first time six years ago, and he hadn't exactly maintained a broad understanding of the law while working in family court. The questions swam on the screen before him as he realised in horror that the exam was a lot harder than he had expected. He couldn't fail – not like this. He couldn't fail Kayleigh. Knuckling down, he tried to answer each question as carefully as he could and when finally he finished, he closed the laptop's lid and looked at the examiner expectantly.

“Such a close thing,” the man sighed walking down the center of the empty exam room. “Just a couple of marks in it...” He reached down to unzip his fly. “Which way though? Well...a sweet thing like you with a pretty mouth.” He smirked cruelly. “That's up to you...”

Whatever Happened to Claude? (Ex-Conned)

 This is a Flashback Friday for Ex-Conned

As a French guy, I am no stranger to stereotypes. In some cases, they are not only true, but I wear them like a badge of honour. For instance, I am both an excellent lover and a romantic. I have heard more women cry out “Claude” in bed than I can remember. I may be small, diminutive even, but I know how to please a woman. I can as easily charm a lady into creaming her panties and I can charm her out of them. This is how I got Zoe into bed after all.

I, however, do not embody all French stereotypes. For one thing, I do not give up easily. When Zoe's boyfriend, Kevin, was initially released from prison and came to live with us, I admit, I was frightened. You may remember that I agreed to disguise myself as a female student so that the notoriously jealous Kevin wouldn't dismantle my body. But in spite of everything, I didn't surrender.

It seemed inevitable that the thuggish Kevin would commit some new crime and return to prison before long – that, or Zoe would realise that his heavy-handed muscle didn't compare with the suave sophistication I had given her while her beau was in the grand maison and tell him to leave. When that happened, I needed to be ready. I needed to continue to be in the house. I needed to continue to be 'Claudette'.

Kevin's influence on both Zoe and the rest of the house was significant. Gone were the endless breakfasts in bed and the fireside discussions of poetry, and in were the endless parties and drinking. The house because a beacon for impossibly loud music and people I didn't recognise coming and going at all hours, and considering I couldn't maintain my closeness to Zoe by hiding in my room night and day, I had to adapt 'Claudette' accordingly.

It wasn't difficult to become a party girl. It's mostly just appearances – the brain fills in the rest. Tonight's outfit, for example, is doing lot of work. I wear it short to distract from the fact I have no tits (obviously), and I admit I completely reworked my gym routine to exclusively grow by legs and ass – oh, and enough makeup to hide the fact I am actually dying on the inside... My feminine voice isn't great but I find if I just lay the French on a bit thicker no-one raised an eyebrow...or bats an eyelash... Zoe called it a 'glow-up'. I call in hell.

The dress I am wearing tonight is actually a loaner from Zoe. The worst part is I know Kevin paid for it. It is this scrunchy faux-leather material that hugs my ass, which when I'm in heels looks absurdly good after my new stairmaster routine. I'm sitting here on the sofa to hide the fact I still suck at walking in heels – not that I want to talk to anyone at this party. It's just the best way to keep an eye on Zoe – to search for cracks in her relationship with Kevin.. The thing is I overheard some of his friends talking drunkenly. They were saying Kevin is looking to ask Zoe for a threesome...with me. Most of me would rather die, but there's a slither that thinks maybe this is a chance to maybe break them up. I'm still deciding how to play it, but I have already come this far for love...

The Priestess

 22/25

The longer Lincoln stood next to the bar waiting for the rest of the drama club to return, the more he was sure he had been had somehow. The ruffled dress he wore was not particularly short yet he felt completely exposed and while the pantyhose had protected his legs from the cold winter air, they had done nothing to shield him from embarrassment. The rest of his outfit consisted of a sheer top with velvet cuffs to match the dress, a leather purse and painful leather heels. All of it plus the wig had been courtesy of the college drama club's costume closet and had been his fellow clubmates' vision of the Priestess – the card he had drawn from the tarot deck earlier in the night.

It was apparently a club tradition. At the end of the first college semester, all club members, no exceptions, would draw from a tarot deck blindly and whatever card they selected would serve as the basis of their outfit for the final big night out of the semester. Lincoln had of course drawn the Priestess, not only that but he had drawn it upside-down which, club rules stated, meant he had to remain in costume not just for the club party, but the wider college party that occurred immediately afterwards.

He had begged for a redo but Jean-Paul had pulled the deck away and clapped his hands gleefully while Harriet had beamed at him and started dabbing his face with an enormous makeup brush before the rest of the club had even finished having their turns. His peers had taken great joy raiding the costume closet for the perfect outfit and Lincoln had turned white upon seeing some of their offerings. They had pulled and primped and powdered him until he was barely recognisable in the ensemble he now found himself dressed in as he stood at a local bar.

Of course, none of the others had drawn their cards upside-down, and so when the club party ended at nine everyone else ran back to their dorms to shed their significantly less humiliating costumes. The Lovers, the Fool, the Hermit – all mild when compared to the embarrassment of attending the biggest night of the college semester in full drag. And now he was alone...

Lincoln thought he saw a familiar face slide through the revolving doors of the bar and relief flooded through him. Finally, he would no longer have to stand alone looking like a girl trying to get picked up. His heart went cold as he realised the person he recognised was actually one of his class professors – a department head no less. Lincoln didn't want to admit to such an esteemed figure who held at least a piece of his future in his hands that he was here in full makeup and a dress on some silly drama club lark.

“Well, hello there sweetheart,” the greying lecturer shot him a sly wink. “Buy you a drink?” Lincoln tried for a sweet smile and nodded demurely, his purse clutched defensively before him as he wished for the Earth to swallow him up.

Whatever Happened to Felix? (Trigger)

'Trigger' was my most popular ever story and was bound to get a Flashback at some point...and maybe more ;D The first four parts are on my index page but I will link the rest their shortly. Until then, just put "Trigger" in the site's search bar.

“You know...” Felix began as he leaned into the mirror to put the final touches on his lipstick. It wasn't a new shade for him, far from it – the soft red offsetting his long blonde hair and smokey eyes was by now his signature look, but it was the first time he had combined it with the suede corsetted dress and lace-up gloves and he was pleased with the results. He had been the eye-candy for Zoe's hypnotist show for eight years now – not that Zoe wasn't stunningly beautiful in her own right, and it was a constant battle to live up to the sexiness promised by the show's huge posters on the marquee. He pursed his lips in a sultry gaze. “I have been thinking...”

“Oh, how I hate it when you do that...” Zoe approached from behind and wrapped an arm around his cinched waist. “Think, that is.” The backstage dressing room was cramped and strewn with rejected outfit options and they could hear the excitement of the crowd building for tonight's show through the wall. “I didn't release your inner bimbo all those years ago for you to go all Confucius on me. I much prefer this side of you...” She used her thumb to turn Felix's chin and direct his mouth to her own for a deep kiss. Finally, when it was over, she smirked at her partner's hopelessly smudged lipstick.

“That's just it...” Felix continued pensively. “I remember you once telling me that the reason you were able to hypnotise me to be your...me, was that deep inside I wanted to be a bimbo all along. But, what about the people in our show? Last night you made a guy think he was ostrich. I am pretty sure he wasn't secretly a giant flightless bird...”

“Oh, my Sweet,” Zoe cackled wickedly. “You're thinking about it way too literally. I simply appealed to the repressed femininity in you. I didn't summon some kind of bimbo gene. And, you're right, that guy last night wasn't actually an ostrich, but he was naturally clumsy and awkward like a giant bird might be. It's subtle. There is a skill to reading people. I am watching the audience all the time, and when one of them comes on stage, I need to figure out what suggestions are going to take best.”

“Do you see more like me?” Felix asked nervously. “Bimbos...guys you can feminise?”

“Oh, my Dear Felicia...jealously is not a shade that suits you.” Zoe said plucking the lipstick from his hand and beginning to reapply it. “There's no-one quite like you. But...” She paused thoughtfully. “I admit, there are other ways. A guy doesn't necessarily need to have a hidden feminine side. You can get him in a dress by appealing to other things...like with the ostrich. Guilt for example – spot a guy clearly harboring some guilt and you can hypnotise him into thinking he deserves to be humiliated. Even better if the person he wronged is there in the audience with him. Those are the ones where it is fun to leave the trigger in place...” Zoe bit her tongue, realising the implications of her words. “That isn't what I did with you by the way.” She caressed Felix's cheek lovingly having completed fixing his makeup. “How about I show you tonight? We can find a guy in the crowd with a dirty little secret, and then make him pay with his dignity!”

Odds and Pairs

 

“Are you going to get it over with then?” Oliver muttered under his breath so only his friend could hear. “Are you going to kiss me?” Tom was inches from his face though neither boy could bring themselves to meet each other's gaze. Oliver had one hand intertwined with the blonde hair of Tom's wig and the other gripped the red solo cup of Dutch courage the girls had charitably provided.

“Why do I have to lead?” Tom grumbled, biting his red painted lips nervously. “You got us into this mess with all that 'odds are in our favour' nonsense.” Like his buddy he was still coming terms with being stuffed into a strappy top and hideously short skirt that showed off the lace panties he was now wearing.

“Well, you haven't hooked up since we started college either. I was just trying to get us some action. I saw a bar full of girls dressed to the nines looking all flirty and thought it looked like a good shot.” He wanted to take another slug of the vodka but felt trapped in place by Tom's hot breath on his cheek. “How was I supposed to know it was a lesbian party?”

“Because they were coupling up all over the place. There were two girls rubbing each other off in a paddling pool. Couldn't you have just enjoyed the view rather than shouting – 'Are you all lesbos or something?' Now thanks to you, we are going to hook up at college – with each other.”

“Do you guys do anything but chitchat?” One of the girls from the group encircling them heckled. “And you wonder why we prefer women...” There was a rumble of female laughter. There was about sixty girls surrounding them in total – more than enough to overpower two big mouthed freshman. Stripping them naked and throwing them in the paddling pool had been their first idea, though the two women fingering each other in the shallow water hadn't appreciated having two nude guys launched at them. The calls to feminise them hadn't started from anyone in particular – rather it was a growing rumble of enthusiasm. There were no shortage of girls volunteering their clothes from the drunken crowd, but it was when using the raffle prizes was suggested that things really got out of hand.

“We better do this soon,” Oliver whispered. “If we don't, they're going to buzz us again.” The buttplugs had the indignity of having lights and even in the shadowy bar, they stood out from under the boys' panties like fireflies. Seeing them being pulled from their packaging had instigated such terror in them that about ten girls had been needed to hold them down to insert the well lubed toys. Their resistance died the second they were in as Tom and Oliver were turned to putty by the violent throbbing that felt like it might split them in two. That's when the fun really began. “Here goes nothing...” Oliver pulled in his friend for a kiss.

“Why are you using tongues...?” Tom tried to splutter but he couldn't get his words out so deep had his friend pushed himself inside. The crowd began to cheer and whoop and someone activated the plugs again. Both boys buckled at the knees in tandem and fell against each other as hundreds of eyes watched what was happening beneath their tiny skirts – quivering lights poking from their asscheeks and their steadily hardening cocks pushed together in between their embrace.

Whatever Happened to Warren and James? (After the Sleepover)

Really sorry about skipping Flashback Friday last week. It was a rush getting Miss-Labelled finished and I ran out of time. Here is a Flashback for "After the Sleepover"

Over the years that followed, James and Warren's bus ride back into town after their failed spying on Jane's sleepover at her Dad's fishing cabin became the stuff of legends. It hadn't mattered that it was first thing on a Saturday morning, the number 10 had been full of people on their way to the town market and these days even grandmothers have smart phones. Pictures of the pair all trussed up in their prissy dresses soon found their way onto social media and rumours of how they ended up like that started to spread. There had been 12 girls at Jane's sleepover. All had seen the boys naked. All had seen the boys stuffed into panties so tight that their eyes watered and smeared their freshly applied mascara. All had seen them kiss each other before they were finally released into the wild.

Needless to say, James and Warren kept a low profile for a while. You would too if your hockey buddies started calling you 'Princess' during practice and girls would come up to you after class asking you to autograph a picture of yourself in a frilly dress with poofy sleeves. Still, time passed and people moved on. Slowly, the boys were allowed to forget their ordeal and returned to their old mischievous ways – at least until a hot afternoon in July over three years later.

“You all know who these guys are, right?” The girl sitting behind the driver glanced from the screen of her cell phone to James and then to Warren and then to her teammates seated in pairs on the remaining benches – her eyes wide with wonder. The boys didn't recognise any of the girls even a little. They had flagged down the minibus for a ride from a nearby town when they recognised the crest of their old high-school on its rear door to find it transporting a dance troop back home after a competition. However, the driver of the van, a young female dance coach from the local college had pulled to the side of the road when the boys began to toss a tennis ball to each other within the bus. “It's definitely them!” The girl grinned excitedly turning her phone around to her teammates. “It's the princesses!”

James and Warren weren't naked in front of twelve girls this time – it was only nine, plus a woman a couple of years older than them. The dance team didn't bother with truth or dare to feminise them like Jane and her friends had either. They just grabbed them and started pulling away their clothes, overwhelming them five to one. They had no problem getting the boys into the lacy competition outfits either, holding them down while their teammates pulled the fabric up and over their bodies. They were treating it like a kind of ceremony, repeating everything they had heard from the rumours – applying makeup, forcing them into the spankies designed to go under the dresses...making them kiss.

“Alright, off you get!” The coach pushed a button and bus's door creaked open. By now they were wearing matching costume wigs and towering high-heels that had been part of the competition outfits. The boys painted eyes shot wide in fear – they were still at least two miles from town. “Don't worry,” the driver smirked. “We aren't leaving you here. We do need those dresses back – as great as they look on you. We just want to watch you walk for a bit.” And so, James and Warren were left to totter along the country road in their heels while nine high-school girls leaned out of the windows of the slowly moving bus filming every moment with their cellphones. A car passed going the other way, honking loudly, and the boys each knew their notoriety was about to come back in a big way.

The Tribute (an Aiko Story)

 13/25

The park was crowded with people. The carnival was in town and the meadows were littered with fairground rides. Aiko spotted Liza by the carousel holding a big stick of pink candyfloss and skipped over to meet her friend, her pace only slowing at the sight of Liza's boyfriend, Jay, in tow. Still, Aiko smiled warmly and took a handful of the cotton candy. Liza's hand snapped to her wrist and something unsaid passed between the two girls. The balled up cotton candy blew away on the breeze.

“Do you see?” Liza grinned and pulled Aiko's attention towards the carousel. A single figure clung to one of the colourful horses on the otherwise empty ride. The creature was dressed in an extravagant lolita dress and a huge pink wig hung over a clearly sweating brow. “Do you recognise him?” Liza asked. “Not the boy himself – he was just someone I spotted taking cotton candy from little kids so I allowed him to 'steal' some from me. I mean the tableau. It is one of yours – from back in Japan. I saw it on your blog. You tricked a boy into stealing your candy on Valentines Day and put him on a carousel. Now, I have done it too – just for you!”

“For me?” Aiko gave a rare blush. She remember the boy back in Japan well – Rob. Seeing the new boy riding the horse, clearly in the throes of candy addiction brought back a wave of happy memories. “Oh, Liza...” she whispered and embraced her friend in a tight hug.

Carter watched the scene from his mount – his thighs trembling around the plastic saddle. He had already debased himself letting that girl powder him and stuff him into this ridiculous dress for another taste of that candy but he was sweating again – craving again. He feared what he would have to do next.

He didn't recognise the Japanese girl but her arrival couldn't be good. Two tormentors was surely worse than one. He just didn't understand why he had been singled out for such torture. He was a volunteer for crying out loud. Just taking tickets and stamping kids hands so they could go on the rides. That guy with the girl who had dressed him had demanded a freebee and he had politely explained the money was for charity. Then the girl had smiled sweetly and suggested he tried her charity and offered him some of her candyfloss. Why hadn't he said no? If he had, he wouldn't be in panties right now.

Carter watched the girls hug and found himself hoping the new girl also had candy. He noticed the other boy was also watching them – the one the girl had called Jay. Presumably he was her boyfriend – so then why was he staring so intently at the other girl?

Whatever Happened to Paul? (Sharking)

 This one is such an old one - Original Caption

Paul hated Fridays. Ladies' night was always extra busy in the club and Johnny the Shark expected him to bring home the goods. The women's bathroom, where he would spend most of his night, milled with traffic and the walls were lined with mirrors giving Paul a reminder of what he had become from nearly every angle.

Success can be dangerous. Eleven years ago, in this very nightclub bathroom, Paul had successfully collected an assortment of clothing from his sister and her friends and pulled them on in one of the stalls convincingly enough to evade Johnny the Shark's goons waiting outside. However, Paul's escape was short-lived. He still owed money and when Johnny caught up with him, he was armed with rumours of how exactly Paul had got away that night. The Shark had grinned a predator's grin as two of Johnny's men held Paul in a chair and explained exactly how he was going to be making back the money he owed. Success can be dangerous if you prove you can successfully hide out convincingly in a women's bathroom to a loan-shark looking for a way to sell drugs at the club on Ladies' night.

“I thought I would find you here!” Paul didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. He could see Amy's reflection in the mirror, an amused smirk plastered on her face. She had been one of the girls that leant him clothing to escape all those years ago, but, still, he had never liked her much. She was smug and mean and even suspected she was the one who told Johnny how he had slipped by his men. Paul slid his flask of bourbon into the tight bust of his dress just above a heart-shaped cut out. In his platform boots he towered over Amy, but she rounded him with the confidence of a lioness stalking a gazelle. “I was hoping you had a little something for me?” She smiled. “Well, I know you have a little something...” She winked at his crotch that was barely concealed by the impossibly short skirt of the dress where his nylon clad legs stretched from beneath. “But, I think you know what I mean...” Paul rolled his eyes and felt a fresh wave of humiliation as he saw how catty it had appeared via his reflection. He tried to give Amy a stern look, but with his thick painted lips and heavy makeup, it just looked like a pout. Finally, he gave up and reached a handful of French-tipped nails into the other bust of tight dress and pulled out a small ziplock bag of pills to give to Amy. He held out his other hand for payment. “Oh, I don't think so...” The girl exclaimed in mock surprise. “Unless, you want me to tell those beefy security guys outside what you're doing in here. Trust me, girl, you don't want to be on your knees in here!” Amy glanced around the floor in disgust before accepting the pills from Paul's outstretched hand.

Paul watched her skip out of the bathroom with the drugs safely in her panties and he was alone again with his reflections. He started to play with his wig. He always did this when he was stressed en femme. It was degrading how Amy had treated him, especially given she had once been his sister's friend, but it was nothing compared to what Johnny would do to him if he couldn't come up with a good reason why he hadn't taken payment for some of his merchandise...

Saving Grace Part 1 (Pink n Prissy Collective)

 8/25

This will be a three part story with the other two parts coming later in the season. It is a continuation of my Pink n Prissy Collective story, which is linked in full on my index page.

“All of us in the Pink n Prissy Collective have our style when it comes to making boys pretty.” Charlotte nodded sagely to Grace, who was still wearing an oversized hoodies and the expression of a frightened mouse. The recently liberated member of the group was having a hard time readjusting to the position of power that came with feminising guys and the other girls had agreed to take turns mentoring their friend. “Josie uses her physical power,” Charlotte continued, “she basically bullies boys into dresses. Terri is a tech wizard – I don't know how she does it, but if a gadget can humiliate a guy, she will find a way. And Cassie...she is devious and scheming. She is manipulative, psychological...but don't tell her I said that...”

Grace smiled timidly. “So, what does that make you? How do you dress up boys?”

“Me?!” Charlotte pressed her glossy pink lips together and stuck out her chest. “I use my charms!” She turned her attention to the figure that had just entered the loft space of the Pink n Prissy house, which Charlotte called her bedroom. The timid creature had smooth skin and heavy eye makeup and was dressed in a short white dress and strappy heels. It hesitated in the doorway before entering the room to make space for its partner, a taller but equally feminine creature wearing a daring black dress and hoop earrings, following behind. Both clutched matching purses awkwardly.

“So, are you going to show us your boobs now?” The first boy asked shyly. “You said you would if I brought a friend.” He beckoned to the blushing boy behind him and then to Grace. “Do we get to see hers too? We better. Putting all this stuff on was so humiliating. We had to get Jim's sister to help us with the makeup,” he nodded to his friend again. “The wigs are hers too.” The boys seemed to huddle together before them, holding their bags like pathetic defensive shields against their embarrassment.

“She sounds like someone I would like to meet!” Charlotte beamed and reached for the bottom of her vest top as if she was about to pull it up. “But...” she let her hands fall to her side, “I don't think you are ready just yet. All our boys have to say the pledge...but it can't just be for me and Grace. All the Collective must see it. That's why we need to go to the mall to get Cassie and then to the library to get Terri.” Both boys blanched at the idea of being paraded around such public places in their current state. Jim glanced at Charlotte and then Grace, his eyes wide, before evidently deciding that seeing two sets of boobs was not worth the inevitable humiliation and started to remove the hoop earrings. Charlotte shook her head sadly. “Fortunately, Josie is right here at home. She just won't be best pleased that a couple of cutie-pies like you two think you can spoil all Jim's sister's hard work without first the others meeting you...and you doing the pledge...and maybe a few pictures!”

Grace gave a small smile as both boys froze in horror and the heavy steps of Josie, the Collective's leader, echoed through the house as she ran up the loft stairs to meet their prey.

The Unusual Suspects

 7/25

Standing in front of the dresser, Officer Chet Stephens couldn't deny that the station's makeup artist had done a fine job on him. Tubes of cosmetics lay around him like spent ammunition, remnants of a battle of which he surely was the loser. A glossy brown wig hugged a skull cap concealing his own hair and below his face was coated with layer upon layer of products he didn't even know the names of postmarked with thickly painted red lips. He wanted to choke on the perfume that the beautician had sprayed liberally on the lacy negligee. What even was the point of that? Could the witness really smell him through the one-way glass of the viewing room?

“Ready?” Detective Pam Larsson entered the room and immediately broke into wide grin. She took her time looking him up and down. First at his thick feminine mask, then the round breast forms that plumped out his chest, and finally at his long slender legs encased in shiny silk stockings. “Oh, Darling, you're ready!”

It hadn't supposed to be like this. As a third generation police officer and station rookie, Chet Stephens was desperate to prove his worth to the force and make his mark just like his father had, and his grandfather before that. And so, from day one, he listened, he asked questions, and fatefully, he volunteered. Police line-ups were a rite of passage for any newly minted officer. The routine was always the same – one witness, one suspect, and five alternates. Sometimes the alternates were suspects of other crimes, but more often they were police officers standing in to make up the numbers. So when Detective Finn Collier had entered the break room looking for volunteers, Chet had immediately offered himself up.

Things started to go wrong almost immediately. Despite being new to the force, Chet knew lineups didn't take more that a few minutes, so when he was standing next to five other men for over quarter of an hour, he knew something wasn't right.

“It's inconclusive,” Finn said gravely as he exited the room. “This is an assault case at a cabaret club. The wit says he only saw the perp in full drag queen get up. We need to bring in our undercover prep team and run this again.” The penny hadn't dropped on what exactly this meant until Chet was being pushed into a makeup chair and having his uniform unbuttoned by an overly-enthusiastic makeup artist, and by then he was already regretting ever volunteering.

“Come on then!” Detective Pam Larsson smiled, shaking her head in disbelief of her junior colleague's transformation. “Just wait until the boys in vice get sight of you. They will be chomping at the bit to get you undercover. They've wanted someone in those cabaret clubs by the river for months. You already have a reputation as an eager beaver too!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Date Part 2

 

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

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

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

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

The Date Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

 

Little Benny's Easter Jamboree

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Liquorice (a Liza story)

 All my Aiko and Liza stories are on my index page in order

“Can I go do the back yard now?” Glenn whispered. “Somewhere less people can see?” His concern was apparent – it was garage sale season and dozens of would be bargain hunters were passing by his position trimming the hedge. The manly nature of his task, contrasted perfectly with the vintage polka-dot dress he had been made to put on, not to mention the velvet lined high-heels and thick face of make up.

“Don't be silly!” Liza giggled. “There are no hedges in the back yard. You should know, we sat out there drinking lemonade enough times back when we were going out. You would know if you ever paid attention. If you had paid attention to me, we would probably still be going out rather than me watching you do yard work in laced panties!” She laughed as the boy blushed and then double-downed on her amusement as she noticed her Step-Dad watching them through the window in his French maid's uniform – feather duster in hand “Things would be different for a lot of people if they paid attention to me...”

“How could anyone not...” spoke a crisp masculine voice from behind her. Liza whirled around in surprise to come face to face with a boy about her age, ruggedly handsome with a stylish stubble and leather biker jacket. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your Mom is never going to win any beauty contests.”

“Huh? No!” Liza stammered, scrambling for her words as Glenn rolled his eyes from beneath his blonde wig. He felt weirdly offended at the insinuation he made for an ugly woman. “I mean, that's not my Mom. That's my...erm...ex-boyfriend.” She smiled, finally regaining her composure. “And I don't know about the beauty contests...you should meet his stylist!”

“Right!” The boy grinned broadly, holding her eyes like a magnet. “I'm Jay,” he stuck out a hand, “and you're Liza. I have seen you around,” he explained,”I have seen you with that Japanese girl who wears way too many ribbons. So, tell me, how come dear Mommy here is your ex? He keep stealing your shoes?”

“No,” Liza giggled a little too hard, “it wasn't that. Glenn was always a little too vanilla for me. I like my boys a bit darker...” she eyed the black leather of Jay's jacket. “I like more of an acquired taste. I like liquorice!” The boy gave a toothy smile and Liza matched it as if some invisible message had passed between them. Eventually, Jay broke their connection and glanced at the bag of candies sat on the end of the hedge that had been keeping Glenn motivated in his yard work. Liza followed his eyes and hurriedly snatched up the bag of sweets. “No,” she shook her head as she stuffed them in a pocket. “Those aren't for you.”

Being Her Valentine Part 2

 

“Come on, Steph. Please let me in!” Michael thumped his fists against the glass. “I know I said I would do whatever you wanted, but there is no reason to torture me. I just want to fix our relationship!” He let his hands fall to his sides as his girlfriend continued to stare at him impassively from the other side of the sliding door. He wasn't even sure she could hear him. However, if he continued to shout, he sure would attract the attention of their neighbours. Michael looked around at the multiple houses with direct lines of sight into their yard where he was pleading. What would he look like to them? He surveyed himself in his reflection in the glass door. He really did look like a piggy sissy in the heavy makeup and blonde wig – completely naked except for the hot pink bra and panties. “Come on, Steph!” He begged. “I'm...I'm...” His mind raced. “I'm so cold!” But Steph simply turned around and left her position at the window.

“If you're so cold, put this on!” The door was open just a second but it was long enough for Steph to yell her command and hurl the pink satin dress at him. Michael just stood there dumbly, unfolding it. It had an old-fashioned cut, somewhere between a maid's dress and a babydoll with big poofy sleeves and sown in stockings. He could tell it would be tight but he really was cold and he didn't want to stand around in the bright pink underwear waiting for one of his neighbours to glance out the window. Reluctantly, he pulled the dress over his head and the stockings up his legs. Raising his arms to the watching Steph in a sarcastic pose, he turned and sat down on the decking. Maybe if he made it seem like this didn't bother him, she would end it sooner. He raised his eyebrows and folded his hands in his lap.

“Michael! What in the hell are you doing out here?!” His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of the older woman whose eyes looked like they might pop out of her skull. “And what on earth are you wearing?!” Sophia was Steph's Mom and despite being a good 25 years older, still shared the same elegant good looks. As she blinked more times than any human Michael had ever seen, he felt a wave of fresh shame wash over him at being discovered like this. “You look like a...like a...total sissy!”

“Hey, Mom! I have your car keys!” Michael heard a fresh voice calling from the other side of the fence. The gate through which Sophia had entered the yard swung open once more and the owner of the voice entered. “Hey, Mom – any idea why Steph told us to come round the back...” The new woman stopped mid sentence and her jaw dropped open. Where Sophia was attractive, her youngest daughter, Sara, was stunningly beautiful. She possessed Steph's sharp angular features but retained a youthful mischief her older sister had lost a few years back. It had been why Michael had sent her the Valentine's card. Sara's mouth closed into an evil grin and suddenly he knew exactly what was happening. “I see my sister didn't waste any time punishing you for trying to two-time us...”

Spoils of War Part 3

 

“Hush, my dear brother... It's over now!” Alyssa smiled warmly, circling her bed. “The battle is won. The war is over. All that remains is the victory parade.” Robert was kneeling in the centre of her duvet in something of a PTSD haze. The quiet of the sorority house bedroom was in stark contrast to the stadium packed with tens of thousands of screaming fans where the Epsilon-Zeta girls of Beaverhole had dragged him along in full uniform as an honorary member of their cheer squad. He had been forced into clumsy high kicks between plays and to sit with the rest of the cheerleaders on the bench behind the bemused players. He had even appeared on the big screen at one point. His parents had seen him, he realised with a sinking dread,

And yet, the beast had been conquered, the game had been won, and the rival sorority had reluctantly handed their hostage back to his sister's clan. So, why was he still trussed up in velvet and nylon and painted like a sissy?! Robert turned his head to one side to gaze out the window and felt the long locks of his wig brush across his heavily made-up cheek. After all that had passed he still felt miles from freedom.

After the game had ended in victory, Alyssa and her friends had carried Robert on their shoulders back to the sorority house. He was soon naked once more as they stripped him of the Beaverhole uniform to throw on a small fire. His sister had to bat away a gleeful college girl who was enjoying Robert's perfectly smooth skin a little too much, and then she dropped the bomb that his ordeal was far from over as the girls were planning to parade their trophy at the college's victory party. All the girls mucked in to transform him once more, and by now Robert found that most of the resistance had gone out of him. He obeyed meekly as they produced a velvety party dress with long nylon sleeves and bejewelled choker, and demanded he dress himself. It was still slightly better than being nude in front of two dozen girls, and definitely better than being dressed as a cheerleader in front of the entire town. And still, his mind raced at the thought of what the sorority had planned for him, their new mascot, at their victory parade.

“Those Beaverhole girls are so dumb!” Alyssa smirked as she continued to admire her work, touching up Robert's make-up and rearranging bits of hair. “You know we told them this could be an annual thing?! Like we compete to win you as a trophy every Valentine's game. That's how we got them to agree to hand you over. I hate to say it, but you'll be long gone before the rematch next year.”

“What?!” Robert's face went pale. Suddenly the parade seemed like the least of his problems. “No, Alyssa, I won't be...” He stammered. “I didn't tell you... We were supposed to tell you this weekend... I got offered a place at Seabrook. I will be starting here in the fall. I'm going to be here for the next four years...” His heart pounded as he realised just how far from freedom he really was...

Spoils of War Part 2

 I was tempted to leave this as a bit of an Easter egg, but Beaverhole and the Epsilon-Zeta sorority are from the caption universe of my own friend B-Rex - someone who has influenced my captioning style more than anyone else over the last 12 years. B-Rex isn't currently posting but I highly recommend you go check out Degraded Damsels and see how much I have managed to rip off as my own ideas 

About a dozen girls crowded around Robert as he lay prone on the floor – their excitement evident in their rapid giggled whispers to one another. 'It's a guy!' 'It's a sissy!' 'It's some kind of pet!' 'Probably a boyfriend who got caught cheating!' 'It's pathetic!' 'It's probably their mascot!'

“It's a trophy!” The crowd parted to allow a stubby butch girl with an air of leadership into the centre right in front of Robert. “And it's ours! Those Seabrook bitches think they are so much better than us! They think their boys are going to crush our team in the big Valentines Homecoming game tomorrow! Well, were going to show them! Were going to show them that Beaverhole is not a town to be messed with, and we sure as hell are going to show them that Epsilon-Zeta is a sorority to be feared. And we are going to start by making an example of their little mascot here!”

Robert very quickly came to understand that the short masculine girl was named Lynn and was the leader of the Epsilon-Zeta sorority, a prominent house from his sister's college's rival school and opponents in tomorrow's Homecoming game. He could also tell that the other girls feared her like a drill sergeant as they moved obediently to her barked orders. For the second time in three hours, Robert was stripped naked in front of a room full of girls, and to his dismay, his member was still feeling the effects of his forced ice-cold shower – something that amused the encroaching sorority.

“He's completely smooth!” Chuckled one of the girls running her hand up his leg – an experience Robert might have enjoyed under other circumstances. Another girl lifted him under his armpits as hands slapped as his bare ass and one girl even pinched at his testicles. He was turned to face some approaching girls and when he saw what they were carrying, he began to struggle.

They overpowered him easily, of course, and within no time they had stuffed him into the Beaverhole cheer uniform complete with matching spandex spanks and sheer pantyhose. One of the girls had sat on his chest while another glammed up his makeup and replaced his wig with one with long wavy highlights. They were turning him into one of them, Robert realised in horror, and when they finally released their grip on him, he scrambled backwards on all fours until his back was pressed against the wall.

“Here! You'll need these!” Lynn threw a pair of pompoms at his feet. “Cheerleading isn't my thing, but the girls here will show you our routine!” Over the next hour, Robert was forced through an exhausting regimen of high-kicks, clumsy cartwheels and waved pompoms. His mistakes were mercilessly corrected by the team of girls and a sinking dread formed in his stomach at the sight of Lynn filming every moment of it. Just when he thought his lungs would explode, they left him a sweaty humiliated mess on the floor. Five minutes later, Lynn reappeared holding her phone. “It's official! Those bitches at Seabrook saw our video and agreed terms. Whichever college wins the Homecoming game tomorrow gets to keep their little mascot here as their own!”