Double Shift

 2/25

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lodger Part 7

 

Brittany stood in her room acutely aware that something wasn't quite right. The room itself with its shadows and creams wasn't the problem – she had even tailored her outfit to match it specially for Ms. Paulsen's return. Looking spectacular as always, Brittany had paired a dark skater dress with silky cream pantyhose, cutting no corners when it came to her makeup – her skin glowed and her hair glimmered. And yet something was very wrong...

Caleb was the same as always. Giddily thinking he was a girl in his pink paradise of a bedroom. Last Brittany had seen, he had been rolling around like an excited puppy on the bubblegum coloured shag rug – his perfect bleach blonde curls and cotton-candy tutu spread around him in a picture of feminine bliss. So why did Brittany feel so,,,off?

The tea clearly hadn't worked on Caleb. She had served him up an extra strong pot as soon as Ms. Paulsen had left – even giving him the bags that she was supposed to drink – and though he had fallen asleep with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face, when he awoke wearing the most masculine thing Brittany could find in the house – a bland unisex pair of brown button up pyjamas – he had just giggled at the sight of his new tits poking out from the top fastening and was back looking like a Barbie doll in 10 minutes.

Brittany had continued to give Caleb her serving of the Camomile tea along with his own. If nothing else, it kept that idiot asleep most of the time and out of her hair. She didn't bother trying the stunt with the pyjamas again and with every enforced nap, he seemed to wake as even more of a simpering airhead that the time before. One afternoon, Brittany caught him sitting in front of the dresser that had once been hers, giggling at himself mindlessly in the mirror and bouncing his boobs.

Brittany was not sure what was wrong, but she no longer looked at Caleb's boobs with the same envy she had a few days ago. Caleb was a boy – he shouldn't have breasts and the fact Ms. Paulsen had given them him was wrong. She just wasn't sure why. The pink room didn't even strike her fancy any more. Once it had held a power over her she couldn't explain, and now? It was just a room. It was stupid pink Caleb's stupid pink room.

Ms. Paulsen would be home later today along with her freshly graduated daughter, Sophie. I sure hope they know what's up with me, Brittany thought as she curtseyed half-heartedly in her skater dress for the mirror. She frowned as it hung loosely over her flat chest. Caleb wasn't a girl...and maybe she wasn't too... She just hoped Ms. Paulsen would know what to do...

The Lodger Part 6

 The rest of this series is now on my index page

Brittany came to the bottom of the house's front steps to see Ms. Paulsen off, careful not to lose her footing on the tiles in her silver pumps. She had no recollection of the woman whose house she lodged in ever leaving home without her, but finally the big day had arrived and Ms. Paulsen was going away for a couple of day's for her daughter Sophie's college graduation.

Brittany had spent the entire morning prepping her appearance for the moment Ms. Paulsen drove away. She wanted the final image of home for her landlady as she drove away to be picture perfect – a lasting mental image of beauty to take with her on her trip. And so, Brittany had picked out the most exquisite dress in her extensive wardrobe, a flowery number with a cinched black bodice complete with a large black rose at the breast. She had straightened and pinned her hair and spent hours getting her makeup just so, until, finally, she was satisfied that her beauty would be akin to a wondrous postcard Ms. Paulsen would carry with her in her mind purse – until she returned with no choice but to move Brittany back into the main bedroom.

Caleb hadn't even come to the door, she thought bitterly. How was he the favourite? He wasn't even a girl... So, why did he get the big pink room? Why had Ms. Paulsen got him breasts and not her? Caleb thought he was a girl. He even acted like one.- especially after drinking the Camomile tea. But he wasn't – she knew because she still remembered his arrival. That was the day she had been moved out of the pink room and into the spare one – the day she was no longer Ms. Paulsen's favourite.

Brittany wanted boobs too. They would fill out her dress perfectly and she would look even more amazing as she waved Ms. Paulsen off on her trips. It wasn't fair. Caleb was a boy and he had breasts, and she was a girl and had none. A plan started to form in her mind. If she could show Caleb he was a boy, he would no longer want his breasts. He might not even want to stay around with Ms. Paulsen. All she had to do was prove it to him.

But how? Of course...the tea! The tea made you sleepy. Brittany had drunk enough of it to know that. She would give Caleb a big pot, not just his serving, but hers too, and he would fall asleep. When he woke up he would have boy clothes on...but still boobs... Hmmm... And where would she get boy clothes? This was hard, Brittany thought wearily, wiping her brow and cursing at the sight of bronzer on the back on her hand. Ms. Paulsen's car was disappearing around the corner at the end of the road. She sighed. She was alone with Caleb now. Stepping carefully up the tiled steps, she headed for the kitchen to prepare some Camomile tea.   

Whatever Happened to Britt? (...is You!)

 The original caption of this story is here

“That Bitch!!” Britt groaned removing the remaining wrapping paper from the present. Bearing a big bow and a tag with his name, the gift had been sitting innocently beneath the tree with the rest of them. No-one could have guessed what it really was – a grenade filled with with red velvet and fur. An explosion set to go off and ruin Britt's life all over again. How could she do this to him? After all these years... After all he had been through to get here... All his hard work... He allowed the dress to slip through his hands to the floor knowing it would inevitably encase his body before the end of the night. “Melanie, haven't you had your pound of flesh already?” He put his head in his hands.

Ten years ago Britt had experienced a Christmas countdown like no other. His girlfriend, Melanie was away at college and he had organised to shower her with twelve days of gifts to prime her for romance during the holiday break. In return, Melanie had arranged a countdown of her own. Starting with a self-help hypnosis course named 'Be the Perfect Partner with the Guru Self Hypnosis', Britt had been unsuspectingly subjected to hypnotic self-feminisation and Melanie had followed up this initial 'gift' with all the tools Britt needed to complete his own transformation. And why? Simply an elaborate way for Melanie to break up with him and see other people.

It had taken almost an entire year of intense therapy and subliminal suggestion for Britt to break the pink satin chains the course's addiction had trussed him with. Session after session of humiliation to unpick his obsession with becoming the alter-ego Melanie had forced upon him. He had become a joke to family and friends who couldn't fathom that his new compulsion was anything other than a fetish. Even years later, an unfortunate cue, the wrong kind of trigger, and Britt would relapse once again and his feminine side would emerge. He would gather up the cosmetics, the underwear, the wigs that his alter-ego had stashed in places he would never find, and his feminine side would emerge once more. Evidently, Melanie knew all this.

In was hours later and Britt found himself in the park. He was vaguely aware that what he was doing was against his will and embarrassing, but he had slipped into the velvet dress all the same. He had pulled up those long socks and put on the fur hat, waxed his body and painted his face in total obedience to his long dormant programming. It was snowing and he held his hands out to catch some flakes, aware of the picture of beauty he must be painting. As much as he got good at fighting his female urges, he couldn't deny that when they got the better of him, they did a sterling job.

“There you are!” Melanie stepped out from between the trees. She was older now but still stunningly attractive. “I always liked this side of you. I was just too young and stupid to know what I had. I am so glad I can still bring out your feminine side. I think I am going to be seeing a lot more of it from now on!”

Subliminal Part 2

 11/25

Fashion mogul Max Vektor hadn't been seen in a month. Since that fateful day when the pictures of the unfortunate Kevin had shown up on his boardroom projector, he had been walled up in his luxury city apartment praying that the subliminal ad he had watched two days earlier wouldn't have the same effect on him that it did on his poor video tech. Nearly a week passed and he began to think he had dodged such a destiny when suddenly one day the packages began to appear on his doorstep. Parcel after parcel of his own company's products – dresses, shoes, underwear, and cosmetics, and all in his size too. He didn't remember ordering any of it but sure enough when he checked his browser history and his credit cards, the purchases were all there and paid for in full in the middle of the night when he was sure he had been sleeping.

He stuffed all of the merchandise to the back of his closet even as it was still turning up at his door, but just a few days later he started waking up in the morning wearing the clothing. It was just one or two things at first. One day it was a single high-heel, the next a bra, but as the days continued to pass it started to happen more frequently and more acutely. One afternoon he apparently blacked out and came to wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a full face of makeup. It actually seemed like the more he tried to fight it, the stronger whatever force was guiding him became. He started to dream of women – glamorous beautiful women dressed head to toe in Max Vektor products and they were him. And he needed to be them.

Within a week of the first clothes arriving, beauticians and stylists began to turn up at his door. They were visibly confused upon seeing that their client was a man but seeing as he was partly dressed in bits of female clothing and they had already been paid for, they were more than happy to groom and primp and apply hair extensions and Max was powerless to resist. Each time they left their subject a step closer to the frolicking models in his dreams.

Fashion mogul Max Vektor hadn't been seen in a month and now as he sat on the steps of the office building bearing his name, no-one would recognise him. Sat next to one of his company's own limited edition handbags, he pushed his long dark hair away from his immaculately made-up face. A long wool coat wrapped around a black figure hugging dress and his stockinged legs sprawled out before into a pair of patent leather stilettos. Part of him screamed and tried to claw himself back to his apartment where he would rip off the clothes and pull out his hair extensions. But something else drove him on. It wasn't the same as Kevin – it was deeper. He didn't just need the products, not just crave to drape them over his soft feminised skin. It was his company – his life's work and he needed to do what was best for it. He pulled himself up onto his heels and started to totter up the steps. He quickly checked the thumb-drive was still in his handbag as he prepared for his meeting with the social media team. He needed to release that ad, and nothing was going to stop him...

Subliminal Part 1

 10/25

“So, what's this then?” Max coughed loudly from his place at the head of the conference table in the boardroom of his high-end fashion empire. Women squawked excitedly as they gathered around an image projected on the screen at the other end of the room. There were obvious benefits to stuffing one's company board with attractive young women, but at times it really was like herding cats. “Ladies!”he finally barked, “explain!”

“The panel...” Anita his CFO turned to face him at last, her eyes bulging with wonder. “The test audience. The one we ran last week for the new ad... You know...” her voice dropped to a whisper as if there might be spies in the room, “...the subliminal one.” She turned back to the projector screen and Max followed her gaze. It was a shot of a young red-headed woman walking in the snow whilst dripping in Max Vektor merchandise – not just the dress and knitted roll-neck from their latest line but also a bag, a watch, boots – all high-end and very expensive. The penny dropped. It had worked. “Boss...” Anita turned back to him. “This is Kevin.”

“Kevin!?” Max almost spat out his morning coffee. “You mean this is a guy? And the ad did this to him?”

“Well, technically he did this to himself,” Anita replied. “But, yes, after watching the ad. His wife sent this picture in last night. Apparently he is completely addicted to our products now. He is completely obsessed with trying to look like the models from the commercial. She is threatening to sue.”

“But...” Max tried to stifle a smirk, “I thought the test audience were all women. Didn't Marketing only show it to our usual demographic of customers?” His smirk quickly disappeared as he began to ponder the potential legal consequences.

“They were,” said Anita. “I mean they did. But Kevin, he's the video tech who ran the test screening.”

“I see...” relief washed over Max and his grin returned. “So, he works for us... Well then, it should be pretty easy to keep this out of the press. We just need to give Kevin's wife some shares in the company and make sure that ad never sees the light of day!”

“Aren't you forgetting something, Boss? Anita responded urgently. “We previewed the ad in our last board meeting two days ago.” She glanced back at her colleagues frantically gathered around the screen. “We all watched it! You watched it!”

Oblivious [COMMISSION]

 A commission for DeviantArt

Also, I am very sorry. Yesterday I said Sissy vs Sissy was on my index page and it wasn't. It is there now.

Jack leapt from his desk the second he was presented with the opportunity to get a closer look at the object of his fascination. The memo he had been holding remained clutched in his hands as he sidled up alongside Felix and began to walk with him through the office. From a distance he had been fascinated, but up close he was spellbound at the transformation of his co-worker. Once rugged and unshaven, Felix now had glossy shoulder-length brown hair and a carefully made-up face that subtly showcased his newly found femininity.

“Hey, Felix. How's it going?” Jack could barely contain his excitement. Felix looked back at him with bewilderment and clutched his hands defensively over a fitted cardigan that sat neatly over a grey skirt. He really has no idea, Jack marvelled to himself as Felix expertly tucked a stray hair behind a freshly pierced ear.

Just three weeks ago, their office had been the latest workplace to be attacked with a viral phishing campaign. The email claiming to contain details of their new parking assignments instead held malware that opened a video on the recipients screen. According to news reports, the video was loaded with powerful subliminal hypnotic suggestion that rendered the watcher helplessly addicted to a women's fashion brand. Known as the Vektor virus after the brand in question, it now held Felix in its manicured talons.

“Hey...Jack,” Felix shifted his leather handbag further up his shoulder and stared back quizzically. “Things are...normal. I am just filing this report.” He gestured to the folder he was holding. “Everything okay...” he looked Jack up and down with an odd expression on his cosmetic laden face, “...with you?”

“Oh, I'm good,” Jack smirked, “very good.” Seeing Felix like this was almost unbearable. He seemed completely clueless that his once unkempt masculine image had been re-crafted into feminine office chic. For all intents and purposes, he was still Felix – he acted like Felix, spoke like Felix, even farted like Felix – except he now had the appearance of a sweet tidily dressed young woman.

Jack felt himself smile a little too wide and cursed silently. He would probably need to touch up his lipstick now. He smoothed his free hand down his flowing skirt and excused himself politely. Watching Felix continue along the corridor in his kitten feels, he felt a mix of relief and pity. Relief, because he had only watched a few seconds of that video before closing the browser. In that moment he could think of nothing worth than being like Felix – completely oblivious.

Home of the Governess

 Sorry for the lack of a caption last week. I have been horrendously busy with work.

Detective Finn Collier ducked under the police tape and strode into the crime scene. If seeing ten police cruisers parked outside the old mansion on the hill had seemed surreal, things were just about to go to whole new level of weird. He spotted his partner, Detective Pam Larsson, talking to a crime scene photographer and walked over. “What do we have here, Pam?” he demanded. “Kidnapping? False imprisonment?”

“Looks like it,” Detective Larsson nodded, “Fifteen vics so far. All like this...or worse.” She glanced at the two figures standing in the corridor, both in short maids' uniforms and heels, their arms bound behind their backs and ball gags stuffed deep between painted lips. “Poor guys...”

“Guys?!” Finn's eyes went wide. “You mean...”

“Men?” Pam nodded, “yes, all of them. Some have been here quite some by the looks of things. These two are some of the newer additions by all accounts. Their transformation seems to have been mostly cosmetic. Hence the bonds, I guess. Some of the guys further into the house are nowhere near as lucky. They are much further gone. Psychological conditioning, we think. Probably drug induced too.”

“Good Lord...” Detective Collier gasped. He eyed the desperate look of the blonde maid before him and immediately wished he hadn't. He tried to avert his gaze but only succeeded at staring at a pair of glossy legs in fishnets perched on open toed heels instead. He was having a hard time thinking of these poor men as lucky. “Who would do something like this?”

“We're pretty sure it's a woman,” Pam said consulting her notepad, “judging by the strapons we found in the sex dungeon. Oh right, that's a thing too. There are also hypnosis tapes we found with a woman's voice on them. Thirties or forties by the sound of her voice. Some of the officers are calling her the Governess. There's a large dressing room full of outfits like these and...others. We're trying to track down who bought them, but nothing so far.”

“Okay,” Finn scratched his head. “How about in the meantime, we get these poor guys out of them?”

“Oh, they are much too far gone for that. Some of these men have undergone serious mental conditioning. It's going to take some of them months, maybe years, of therapy to reconnect them with who they really are. Not that we even know who they are yet. Even these two,” Pam pointed at their prissy welcoming committee, “seem to be deep into hormone cycles. They need to be weaned off and will still have curves for a very long time. In the short-term, our focus needs to be on finding the Governess. Because someone who does something like this has an obsession. They aren't just going to stop because we found some of their maids...”  

Smoking Hot

Kaitlyn swatted with irritation at the buzzing intercom on her desk as if it were some intruding insect. It had been a long day for the hypnotherapist and now her 5 o'clock was late. Not that she was in any rush to spend another hour with that insufferable man and his futile attempt to quit smoking. The moron didn't seem to understand that she wasn't some kind of magician. To make progress you actually had to make a commitment towards improvement – not just lie there lazily on her couch, farting into the expensive red leather and ignoring her. The intercom buzzed again furiously.

“For God's sake, what?!” Kaitlyn yelled down the line at her secretary, who no doubt heard her from the adjoining office through the wall anyway. “Sorry...what it is Cathy?”

“It's your 5 o'clock, Doctor – Mr. Kent, the smoker,” her voice sounded feeble and tinny through the speaker, “he's cancelled his session. He says the therapy isn't working. He called it a waste of time.” Cathy paused knowing her boss would need a moment to seethe before she piled on the bad news. “That's not all, Doctor. His son is here, at the front desk I mean. It seems Mr. Kent wants his money back and he sent the boy to collect it.”

“Right...” Kaitlyn sighed angrily. As nice as it was not to have to spend any more time with the flatulent Mr. Kent, she couldn't believe the nerve of the man demanding a refund on an entire course of therapy. She smiled thinly as an idea started to form. “Oh Cathy,” she said pushing down the button on the intercom, “send him through won't you? I'm sure we can work something out...”

An hour passed and Cathy was getting a little impatient. It was past six and she wanted to go home but her boss was still in with Mr. Kent's son. What was she doing? He wasn't even a patient. She knocked on the door gently and pushed into the doctor's office expecting to see her with the boy in his late teens she had led through earlier. What she got instead almost made her fall down in shock.

“Ah Cathy,” Kaitlyn waved her in, “we were just finishing up.” The doctor gestured to what appeared to be a young woman in a short dress and heels sprawled on the leather couch. “I told Billy here that we couldn't refund his dad's payment but since the last session was already paid for we could use it to give young Billy some help understanding girls. Some hypnosis and a little help from my prop cupboard and I would say he is more than in touch with his feminine side. It's just a shame the hour is up so quickly.”

“Huh?” Cathy's eyes were popping out of her head at the sight of the boy with the blank stare piercing through layers of makeup. “You're sending him home like that?”

“Oh, don't worry,” Kaitlyn grinned, “he will snap out of it before he gets home. It's best he keeps the outfit anyway since I have programmed his femme alter-ego to re-emerge every time he sees his dad smoking a cigarette.”  

 

Mirror, Mirror...

 Thank you for making me feel so welcome to be back

Michael gazed into the hand-mirror for the ninetieth time that day and for the ninetieth time that day, he didn't recognise the face staring back at him. The sweet little nose, the delicate chin, the exquisite cheekbones – all expertly crafted works of art, things of pure beauty...but none of them were his. Like much of the rest of his body, they were the result of state-of-the-art enhancements from the finest surgeons in the country. His body had been cut up and crafted into something spectacular by leaders in their fields. The problem was Michael didn't want any of it. Same as how he didn't want the sheer nightgowns, or the designer lingerie or even his pink painted nails. He didn't want it at all. But the mirror did. And that was all that mattered...

The hand-mirror had been a Mother's Day gift. He had been searching all day for a present for his Mom when he stumbled upon a boutique on the edge of town. The mirror had called out to him from the front window of Gloria Honeypot's Emporium of Fun and Folly and he knew he had found what he was looking for. Little did he realise at that moment that the mirror too had found its target.

Michael's mother never did receive her present. Just one look into the silvery glass was enough to lock him in. One glance and he was immediately compelled like some kind of jewellery box marionette to create something worth reflecting back. Merely a passenger behind his eyes, he had observed his body as it slipped into a nearby store and purchased cosmetics and a lacy dress. He wanted to scream as his feet marched him home to try on his new wares in front of the mirror. More than anything else, the compulsion to look at his own reflection was overwhelming. That night he had watched on in horror as the hand-mirror like some kind of demanding mistress forced him to dress himself up – constantly checking how he looked in its gleaming face as if he were being inspected. If only it had stopped at that...

The mirror clearly had loftier ambitions for whom should be allowed to stare into it. Michael looked on in dread from within his own betraying flesh as his body emptied his savings on a more complete wardrobe overhaul and then began to schedule appointments with doctors about hormone treatments and finally even surgical operations. Over the past six months he must have seen his reflection a million times and each time it looked different – softer, more feminine, strikingly beautiful even. Finally after half a year, all he had to show of his old life was an empty bank account in his own name and a tiny bald cock shrivelled by multiple rounds of hormone therapy...

There was a loud thumping on his apartment door and Michael looked away from his reflection at last. His heart began to pound and his arm involuntarily placed the mirror carefully down on the dresser. Suddenly he longed to be back standing in the middle of his room staring at his refection. It was at least better that what was about to happen. As he reached to open the door, he knew he would be looking at his face again in that glass shortly – only when he did it would be glazed in the cum of the man standing at his door.  

Purple Passion

 15/25

Greg looked down at the slender pixie-esque woman gobbling hungrily on his throbbing cock and smiled. Never before had he met a girl so eager to please – least of all one he had met just twenty minutes ago. He rested his hands on the top of her head as it bobbed frantically, playing with her white blonde hair as pleasure washed over him. The girl responded automatically by reaching around and grabbing his butt and pulling her lips all the way to his balls. Time appeared to stand still in that moment except for the tingle at the tip of his dick deep inside her face. His own mouth dropped open and he became fixated on the purple streaks in her hair – counting them and playing with her locks ever more frantically as he neared orgasm. Suddenly, the girl looked up at him, her eyes wide as they met his and even though she didn't hesitate her cock-slurping for one second, he thought he saw something else there – regret, or shame maybe? Not that Greg was bothered. He only cared about whether he was going to cum in her mouth...or on her pretty little face instead...

Jeanie tried to concentrate on her knees. They hurt of course, planted on the wooden floor as they were, but it was still better than thinking about the sweaty dick slamming into the back of her throat. She wanted to curse but her lips were forced wide in the task her body was compelling her to complete. As an apprentice to the Ministry of Manipulated Wishes she had a monthly quota to meet – a minimum amount of desires that as a young witch, she was to magically corrupt – and if she failed, her line manager would punish her appropriately – hence the horny boy towering over her lusty mouth. After three poor months in a row, her boss has chosen a particularly cruel voodoo charm that turned her into a compulsive blowjob puppet for every boy she met until she could find a new wish to ruin.

Jeanie was snapped from her thoughts by Greg moaning loudly and grasping her hair roughly into involuntary pigtails. He squeezed her nose hard into his pubic hair and hot thick fluid sprayed down the back of her throat. The boy's body went rigid and she fell onto her butt.

“Oh my God!” Greg gasped in ecstasy. “I wish I was as passionate about something as you are for sucking my cock.” Jeanie smiled with glee even as the cum began to dribble over her lips.

Five minutes later and Greg had discovered his new obsession. A purple bow lay on the floor and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Jeanie left more little purple breadcrumbs for him to follow – a pair of purple satin panties, a purple petticoat and a cute frilly purple dress. Using her magic she aided his transformation giving him a shock of blonde hair like her own and softening his masculine features. Greg didn't even notice. He was too enthralled by the purple items that he was desperately adorning on his body. Finally, his transformation complete, he stumbled out the fire door and into the alley behind the building. He held the hem of the dress wide and looked down. Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind. He knew he looked ridiculous but he just couldn't get enough of that colour.

Auto-Pilot

 13/25

Half-way. There are a few more captions featuring Guru Self-Hypnosis on my index page (I think)

Dale fumbled nervously with the lip-gloss, applying it in thick layers with unpractised fingers tipped with long acrylic nails. He couldn't be late. Not today. He was on his final warning and one more screw up would leave him jobless in the worst economy he had ever known. He hurriedly tidied up his mouth with tissue paper and pouted into his compact before admiring his uniform in the full length mirror on the apartment wall...

To say budget airline 'JetBlack' had a misogyny problem was like saying Dale's new uniform was a 'bit short'. The air hostess's outfit rode up his fishnet covered thighs seemingly promising a glimpse of his underwear as it had done the legions of buxom stewardesses that had worn it before him. As a pilot, it had been his duty to ogle these beauties and take every opportunity to tell them how he wanted to land his jet on their runways. Unfortunately for Dale, the rest of his crew took their duties just as seriously and a sexual-harrassment suit was inevitably filed against the company.

According to the terms of the settlement, JetBlack were required to put their male pilots through workplace sexual conduct training and Dale and his colleagues soon found themselves in a room with a video presentation. 'Conquer your Misogyny with the Guru Self-Help Hypnosis' played on the projector screen before them, the syrupy sweet female voice oozing from the speakers and into their waiting ears.

Dale continued to stare at his refection. He looked so good. Much better than in that awful pilot uniform he had worn for years. Feeling extra confident, he tried on a pair of faux glasses that complimented his outfit wonderfully. He was still a little wary of being tardy but it was the details that pulled everything together. Besides, his extra efforts would certainly be appreciated. He sighed, pushed his hair back from his signature-air-hostess makeup plastered face and looked around for his flight bag. It couldn't be far. His apartment was much smaller now. The stewardess salary was much lower but he couldn't deny that he felt much happier. Ever since that training session with the Guru, everything had been much better.

Finally finding the bag, Dale slipped his feet into his neon high heels. A thought came to his head and a smile to his lips. He couldn't resist one final peek. Turning to face the mirror, he squatted down on his towering shoes and spread his stockinged legs wide so just the faintest peep of his matching neon panties showed in the refection. He grinned in appreciation of his scandalously short outfit. He couldn't wait to show the pilots on today's flight.

Reflections

 7/25

I have added all the Pink 'n' Prissy Collective captions to my index page. Reading them back, I realise that I have left a lot of storyline threads for this series up in the air - Stephanie the vengeful ex-leader, the conflict with Brent and his older sister Kirsten. I would be interested to hear if people would like to see those storylines resolved or want me to move on to new things with the Collective. The three years passing does throw a spanner in the works and I do have some fun ideas for the girls but I am sure I could work in the old stories too.

Today's caption is something else however. A fairly straightforward standalone hypnosis caption but I am quite pleased with how it came out.

Ellen felt a surge of pride seeing her newest creation teetering on heeled ankle boots across the cinema forecourt towards them. He was embarrassed, sure, but that would pass and he would soon embrace the bliss of femininity as all her playthings did. This little taste of their former lives made it all that more satisfying – like the salt after tequila – and then his new girly compulsions would take even stronger hold like alcohol in his veins.

'He's adorbs, El,' squealed the blonde to her left trying to put popcorn into her mouth without catching her glossy pink lips. 'I can't wait to see how quickly he gets used to being a gorgeous little cutie pie.'

Ellen glanced at her friend standing between two other impeccably dressed teenaged girls. 'Oh, don't worry. You will in no time...'

The reflection in the glass doors to the cinema lobby had been the first hint that something wasn't quite right in Kevin's world. It had been just a flash but it had been just enough to shine a light on the fact the wide eyed brunette staring back at him wasn't who he was supposed to be - for just a second anyway. However, the polished marble floor of the cinema forecourt was not so merciful. As long as he could see his reflection, he was hyper-aware of his old life as a high-school boy. He could feel every fibre of the soft satin panties suffocating his crotch and wedging between his ass cheeks. He could feel the dress hugging every inch of his figure and the layers of makeup clinging to his face. And he could see Ellen, standing with her friends near the entrance to screen 6, relishing every second of it. He didn't know if it was hypnosis or magic or what, but he knew he was powerless to fight it. He could run but he knew the moment he left the reflective floor, he would cease to remember his life as Kevin and his feminine autopilot would take over, inevitable forcing him to restart this ordeal over. The only option was to reach Ellen and her friends and return to his blissful ignorance. But until then, he would have to continue on his walk of shame.

Ellen watched her prize carefully as his obvious humiliation made him jittery, taking tiny steps with his purse clutched in front of him. She wouldn't have blamed him if he had sprinted over, tearing off the proverbial band aid, but she was so glad he didn't, allowed her to savour her creation. Finally, he arrived and the marble floor gave way to black carpet. Kevin visibly relaxed, like a great weight had suddenly dropped from his shoulders, and hugged the other girls warmly. Watching from behind as they headed towards the screens, Ellen sighed. As much as she enjoyed the girly side, nothing beat the squirming as they were forced to view their new feminine existence through the eyes of their former selves. Still, she smiled as her four friends filed into the women's restroom, there were mirrors everywhere.

A Bunny Born

This continues on from the Bunnimacher and a little from the Aiko series. You can find the previous episodes on the index page.

Unconventional (an Aiko story)

Feigning Interest

Whatever Happened to Martin? (an Aiko Flashback)

Martin is from Server Upgrade

Whatever Happened to Jun? (an Aiko Flashback)

Can Aiko hold onto Jun from Piece of Cake after the Guru has started to take her sissies?

Losing Grip (an Aiko story)

So Aiko is back from a semester in America after hearing from Nishi that someone or something had taken her sissies...

It's definitely worth reading the rest of my Aiko series to get up to speed on this one,

Virtual Royalty