Double Shift

 2/25

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever Happened to Eric? (Keys to the Queendom)

 

Madge stepped out of her house with a smile on her face. Life was good – the sun was out, her hangover was mild, and she had got laid the night before. The guy wasn't submissive – not all of her partners were, but the thought of the previous evening's sex made her think of Eric, and her attention was drawn to the sorority house across the street. Six months had passed since that night the girls had let her stay over after forgetting her keys, and while she had returned since – she was basically an honorary member after all, it had been some time since she had checked in on her former toy – on her gift to them.

The sister that opened the door to Madge's knock smiled knowingly and led her inside. They walked to a communal sitting area where a voluptuous figure in a latex French maid's outfit was bent over a sofa – her underwear showing from beneath the too short petticoats.

“You'll recognise the feather duster, of course.” The sister chuckled. “But we have made some other alterations.” The maid looked back at them standing in the doorway through heavily made-up eyes with an expression of suspicion. The sorority had indeed put their own stamp on Eric's appearance. “Colleen's gimp suit definitely helped break him down into something we could mould, but we just couldn't keep him hidden underneath it forever. Besides, Colleen needed it for breaking her boyfriend – with our help of course.” Madge nodded approvingly. “We used everything you taught us about controlling weak men, and Eric here is very week. The chastity cage gives us almost complete power over him. He is so desperate... Surrounded by a house full of party girls like us... We don't even wear bras half the time... And the cage keeps him totally impotent... All we have to do is loosen it a little so he can get the tiniest of boners, and he is putty in our hands...ironically. Once he is milked, he is helpless. Hell, he is always helpless.”

“He's even taking the hormones we're putting in his food.” The head sister joined them in the room. “Just look how round his ass has got! I am telling you – that's not just from walking around in six inch heels all day. It's enhanced! It feels so good clapping against me when I use my strapon!” The three girls watched Eric blush bright red, even beneath the caked on cosmetics. “Oh, Darling, don't be shy! I know you you enjoy it from those cute little squeals you make as I am thrusting in and out of you. I bet Madge knows what I am talking about!”

“Oh, Madge!” The first girl exclaimed. “You really must join us for a sleepover. I know you let us keep Eric, but he will always be yours in a way. Tonight we're bringing in Colleen's ex-boyfriend to have a little girly fun with him – a little maid-on-maid. How about you join us? See if either of them can earn a little slack on their chastity cages? I know you still have a copy of Eric's key.”

Sssshhh

 25/25

'Ooooohhh...he's perfect!' squealed Alice, looking down at their project. 'Wait! What am I even saying? He? She! She's fantastic! She's everything we were hoping for! She'll make a wonderful maid for our party.'

Georgina beamed with pride from her sorority sister's praise. 'Nice little loophole, don't you think? Now, no girls from outside the sisterhood need to be at our party and no-one needs to know we let any but the most alpha boys in campus come within five feet of us. Besides, I doubt any of those mousy little things from Beta-Beta-Beta could fill out a dress as well as this one! I even packaged her up in case she had the idea of making a run for it!'

Sean cowered beneath the duo of manic girls. The wig had only been on his head thirty seconds and it was already itching. He just prayed they were joking about the glue. Combined with the figure hugging frilly dress and the fishnet stockings, he felt like he was being squeezed all over. Still, none of it compared to their eyes on him, their satisfied mocking stares. And that was without the ropes Georgina had tied around his ankles and wrists – she had even bound his shoulders. Who hid she think he was? Houdini?!

Alice snapped a picture with her smart phone. 'Think I'm gonna use that to copy her makeup,' she grinned. 'It's a bit slutty, but I can make slutty work.' She winked at Sean in a way that made something stir inside his satin panties and his glossy pink bottom lip dropped open. 'Now, my dear maid,' she beckoned, 'show us how you're going to greet our guests.'

'Please,' Sean grunted in disbelief. What the hell was she expecting while he was tied up like this?! 'Please let me go.'

'Not ladylike at all,' Alice shook her head with disappointment. 'That won't fool even the dumbest of your fratboy pals.'

'It was what I suspected,' Georgina shrugged,' that's why I got that.' She pointed at Sean's neck and he nervously looped a finger around the leather choker, pulling the heart-shaped ring away from his Adam's apple. Georgina didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled it forcefully over his chin. The hoop sunk between his plump lips and he instinctively fastened his teeth around it to stop it going deeper, not realising until it was too late that was exactly where it was intended to go.

'Urrggghh,' he moaned.

'Perfect,' nodded Alice once more, 'now you sound as tarty as you look. 'Say,' she eyed Sean's now open mouth, 'you're looking a little exposed there...let's make that forced little dentist's smile a surprise for them!' She reached for a roll of tape and slapped a piece over his mouth. "It might take those fratboys a little time to find that sweet O of yours, but don't worry, they will want to explore your pretty mouth before long. I hope they play nice with you."

'Oh, don't worry,' Georgina's eyes twinkled, 'I'm sure you'll get a taste for them in no time...'

I, Maidbot Part 4

 

Immobilisation gives one a lot of time to think, and boy, did Robbie think. In the dark of the back of the truck surrounded by the other defective AutoMaids, as he was wheeled into the warehouse and inventoried by some dweeb with a mullet, and as he was plugged into a laptop via the same port he loaded in all his fantasy scripts two days earlier in his garage. In his infinite stillness, he worried about what would happen to his consciousness if his new maid body was sent for scrap, he pondered whether Bot-Robbie would make a better husband than he had, or if he too would reach his tolerance of Marie and come up with some hair brained scheme to replace her. Was there any of the real-Robbie person still in the real-Robbie body? He considered what he would do if he was placed with another customer and expected to clean house. Could they load software that would make him do that? But most of all, he thought about sex. His body was still but his robotic loins were restless. He needed relief from the inhuman cravings that were consuming his paralysed form. He didn't care if he stayed an AutoMaid forever – he just needed a release.

“This one is totally fucked!!” The technician at the laptop shook his head to no-one in particular. “Operating system is completely gone and there is so much rogue code in there I don't even know where to start unpicking it.”

“Hmmm...” A colleague joined him and pondered what was on the screen. “Looks like a lot of sex scripts and kink programming. My guess is there was a mix up at the factory. We got a sex-doll and some poor sap with a hard-on for droid-women got a bot more interested in turning up his bedsheets than taking a tumble in them. Let's ship this one back to the factory. They'll know where it needs to go...”

And that's how, two weeks later, Robbie found himself being sold for a cut price as a refurbished sex-doll. It didn't matter how much he tried to explain the mix-up, his new owner didn't even speak English. Robbie didn't even know what country he was in – he just knew that he had spent a long time immobilised inside a crate. His new owner, a grubby fat man, was not phased by his new toy's protests. For the deal he got, he was more than happy to use the immobiliser to good effect whenever it got annoying. Having been resold as an “AutoCompanion”, Robbie has introduced to a wardrobe that extended far beyond the French Maid outfit he had barely got used to. He was dressed in a selection of fetish and fantasy outfits including as a cheerleader and a female gimp and positioned as a risqué piece of furniture during the day, but at night the man preferred to strip him down to a pair of crotchless panties and heels and position him on the bed ready to be fucked. It was only then would Robbie be unfrozen. Primed and ready to be screwed silly with his ass propped up on a pillow, he knew now was his chance – to run, to escape, to somehow get home and expose Bot-Robbie as the imposter he was. But, oh...fuck!! He needed that release...

I, Maidbot Part 3

Being terrified and hornier that he had ever been in his life was a bizarre experience. The AutoMaid company sent a truck to collect him immediately after Marie screamed down the phone for ten minutes at a helpless customer service agent while Bot-Robbie soothingly rubbed her shoulders and shook his head in exaggerated dismay. Robbie knew he should run – there was no way being carted back to the AutoMaid factory could lead to anything good – but before he could, he saw Bot-Robbie handing Marie the immobilizer that had been with the kit in the garage and suddenly he was frozen in place.

His consciousness remained, hence the terror/sex-cravings cocktail, yet he could not movea single piston to run, protest his predicament or simply relieve the warm itch that had spread across his entire body. He just stood there frozen as Bot-Robbie brushed Marie's hair gently. The AutoMaid truck arrived along with the indignity of having one of their correctly functioning maid droids help package up his prone form for shipping while Bot-Robbie diligently supplied the driver with all the paperwork and accessories from the garage. The delivery maid tied his arms behind his back firmly as the driver explained it was to stop them flailing around during shipping, and this only drove Robbie more wild. The French maid before him was acting out one of the fantasies he had purchased the AutoMaid for and this one hadn't even been reprogrammed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and when they returned to staring straight ahead, the AutoMaid was glaring at him – her arms folded. Did she know? Could she somehow sense her colleague in front of her had been infiltrated.

Robbie thought he saw the hint of a smile. But, that was impossible wasn't it? And then the driver and maid were working together strapping him to a trolley and wheeling him from the house while Bot-Robbie held open doors for them.

“What will happen to it?” Marie asked thoughtfully, tentatively stroking Robbie's synthetic skin. Her simple touch sent lightning bolts through his body and he screamed silently. It seems a shame to just scrap it!”

“It depends...” The driver sighed. “The eggheads at the factory will run diagnostics on it and figure out what is wrong with it. Then it will either be dismantled for spare parts or resold as a refurbished unit. This one looks physically fine, so most likely they will refresh its compliance software and find it a new home. I am sorry it didn't work out for you.” He tipped his hat and started to push the tied Robbie towards the ramp into the back of the truck.

“Wait!” It was Bot-Robbie, one arm raised uttering the first words since they had switched consciousnesses. Robbie's heart soared as it strode purposefully towards the truck. “Don't forget this!” It produced a feather duster that had been left on the living room floor and tucked it into Robbie's apron. Then it stepped back and gave a quick salute. “Bon voyage!”     

 

I, Maidbot Part 2

 

Robbie had to think quickly on his feet – feet that were now perched on a pair of six-inch heels. Whilst wearing his own skin, he had promised Marie he would return the AutoMaid to the store, so now that his consciousness had somehow been transferred into the sexy robot, he needed to give her reason not to make good on that promise on his behalf – at least until he found some way of getting his mind in his own body. That meant that he had to fulfil the intended usefulness of the product he had purchased. Robbie had never cooked and cleaned before but now he was doing so like his life depended on it – because it probably did.

So, while Marie barked instructions at him like he was an imbecile, he plundered through his tasks. With every awkward movement, the satin of his uniform and the soft silk of his stocking swished against the artificial sensors that acted like nerve endings beneath his ultra-realistic but synthetic skin and an odd sensation began to grow inside him. He had already cursed himself for deleting the maid's abilities to perform chores as he fumbled awkwardly with the mop, but now he was being reminded of what he replaced them with? Was he becoming aroused? Was that even possible? His mind was flooded with a million different ideas for achieving climax – for helping others climax – hell, he was staring at his wife while she shouted at him for using the wrong fabric cleaner on the sofa and all he could think of was the perfect way to make her cum her brains out. Why couldn't he have had that knowledge five years ago? If he had, it would never have come to this... As much as he wanted to try anyway, he knew there was no way Marie would go for kinky lesbian sex with a robotic French maid who had just permanently stained her couch.

To make things worse, Robbie's body was back up and running too and had left the garage, presumably with the AutoMaid's version of a consciousness pulling the levers. Bot-Robbie didn't talk yet he operated himself with graceful precision, performing tasks such as making Marie a drink at exactly the right moment or placing a hand on her shoulder as she was becoming overwhelmed with rage at their pathetic new maid. Hours later, Robbie heard the unmistakeable squeak of mattress springs followed by cries of ecstasy from upstairs as Bot-Robbie ripped sounds out of his wife real-Robbie had never managed in years of marriage. He followed the exaltations to the bedroom to find Marie on her back with one of her shoes still on as Bot-Robbie jackhammered away at her like a man possessed – as in a way he was.

Robbie's arousal peaked despite the betrayal of seeing his wife cuckold him with his own sexbot cosplaying with his own body. He slipped a delicate feminine hand up under his apron as he continued to watch, seeking out the robotic pussy he had promised himself – albeit not like this. Finding it, he closed his eyes.

“Good fucking gracious!!” He heard Marie scream in fright. “How did that thing get in here?! Okay, that's enough. I am calling the company myself. It's going back right now!”

I, Maidbot Part 1

 

Robbie was used to disappointing his wife, though he seldom did it on purpose – such was the case when he brought home the AutoMaid 3000. It's true that the ultra-realistic female robot was a state-of-the-art piece of kit whose designers promised would revolutionise household chores once and for all, and a fully functional AutoMaid would have done just that for Robbie and Marie's home. At least it would have had Robbie not taken it round to one of his tech friends on the way home from the store to have its operating system wiped out.

Robbie had disappointed Marie one too many times and the marital bed had become dormant. He had considered cheating, but he just didn't have that much game. So, upon seeing a commercial for the super hot AutoMaid 3000 for the first time, he instantly turned to the internet to do some research. Being that it was originally created as a generic multi-purpose robot, it had capabilities far beyond housekeeping and even had fully functioning and realistic breasts and sex-organs. Apparently, the creators had at one point seen the droid as a potential way to sanitise the sex industry, or at least provide companionship to a generation of lonely men.

That's where Robbie's friend came in. By removing the housemaid operating system, he freed up the robot's mind to be loaded with any program he desired. There were entire online communities devoted to sharing apps that taught the AutoMaid to learn all sorts of perverted skills. There was even a plug-in what could sync with the owner and learn all their desires and preferences in a matter of minutes to become the perfect lover. All it needed was an extra bit of black market tech – something that Robbie spared no expense on.

Marie's appraisal of the AutoMaid 3000 was swift and derisive. It couldn't cook. It couldn't clean. It couldn't even load the dishwasher. Robbie was more than happy to take it to the garage and organise a return in the morning. Once out of sight of his wife, he got to work loading all the seedy scripts via a bluetooth connection with his phone. As program after program went into corrupting the maid's brain, he grew excited. He gazed over his new purchase. It really was indistinguishable from a real, and very beautiful, woman. Finally, satisfied he had loaded all the abilities and features he wanted into his new sex-bot, Robbie prepared the plug-in to sync the maid with his preferences. He attached the headset to himself and plugged the other end into the maid before realising with frustration that there wasn't an outlet in the garage. With another stroke of genius, he wired the power source to the garage-door battery and prepared for the sync to start. There was a flash as long white sparks -shot from the battery and then everything went black.

Sometime later, a groggy Robbie was stumbling back to the house. His entire body felt stiff and weird like he had never used it before. He entered through the back door to find his wife standing there. “So you do know where the kitchen is then?” She spoke as if addressed a child. Robbie raised his hands to his head. Why did she sound so loud? He cringed at the intensity in her voice and turned away defensively to where a mirror hung above the dining table. The AutoMaid 3000 stared back – an expression of fear and confusion etched across her face.

Hot House Part 1

 20/25

Jared stopped scrubbing the floor momentarily to peer over his shoulder. At least five cameras gazed down at his position on the floor of the Hot House kitchen, and he blushed red from behind pounds of caked on makeup at the thought of the millions of pairs of eyes watching on gleefully from the other side of the lenses. Humiliated, he tugged feebly at the hem of his maid's uniform in a futile attempt to cover his pantyhosed ass and returned to his chore – hoping that by focussing on this part of his forfeit would distract from the other.

Hot House was the latest in a seemingly never-ending stream of hit reality tv shows. It was the tried and tested strangers turned housemates formula with a twist. Five male and five female social media influencers were recruited to take residence in the Hot House – a mansion cut off from the outside world and fitted with hundreds of cameras so that fans could drink in every waking and sleeping hour of the contestants' lives. The show followed the standard fare of challenges with rewards and forfeits dished out to the winning and losing housemates. Where Hot House differed from the reality tv template was the way in which the contestants were eliminated. There was no voting or nominations. Instead, upon entering the house, the influencers submitted their social media accounts to the show runners who in turn used them to post content from the house's goings on. If any of the influencers lost more than 50% of their followers on any of their platforms, they were instantly eliminated and evicted from the house. Viewers voted for their favourite housemates using likes and follows until only one remained.

Hot House was coming up to its second week and nine of the ten housemates remained. Only Sally a 32 year old cooking influencer had been evicted in a dull opening fortnight that had not lived up to the show's name. Things would take a turn when a boys vs girls game involving balloon animals ended with the guys on the losing side and the girls got to choose one of them for a forfeit. Jared had rolled his eyes as they selected him seemingly at random and the three cliquey younger girls, all seemingly interchangeable fashion/beauty Instagram types decided that he should clean the kitchen. Since Sally's departure, noone had really taken the mantle of keeping things tidy and it was clear they just wanted it done rather than to punish Jared. That was, however, only until Emi, an older, darker and frankly mysterious fourth remaining female housemate took the girls aside to explain what she had in mind for the unfortunate Jared's punishment.

Jared sweated into the satin of his uniform. Who the hell did Emi think she was? At least on his knees he didn't have to stand in those awful heels. Things could also be worse, he thought ironically. But little did he know just how much worse things could possibly be...

Under the Influence Part 8

 16/25

Brody stuffed yet another pillow into its case and cursed under his breath as one of the stupid acrylic nails his sister had glued to him caught on the coarse fabric. Finally freeing himself, he swore again and tossed the pillow onto the bed. He had spent countless hours humiliating himself, all the time putting money in Claire's bank account, and yet in a way, this was somehow worse. Not the least of his problems was the ridiculous uniform he had been given to wear. Sure, it was befitting of the role he was fulfilling, but it was not befitting of his body. He may have slender curves and soft skin from the hormones his sister had been feeding him, but he still maintained his average male height and as a result the flimsy skirt of the maid's outfit flipped over his pantied ass every time he raised his arms.

The meagre money he had stuffed into his purse upon escaping from his apartment had barely covered two nights in a hotel, leaving him absolutely nothing for the guys' clothing he craved so much. Two days of hiding in his room passed excruciatingly slowly. The only times he dared slip outside was to get his fill of the breakfast buffet and he spent the entire time scanning the dining hall in fear of spotting a leather-clad dominatrix, whip in hand, stalking her prey. Still, the large purse he had brought with him came in handy as he was able to fill it with pastries to keep him full for the rest of the day. No-one suspected the delicate blonde woman in the gaudy dresses of trying to steal food.

By the time checkout arrived, Brody still didn't have a plan and desperation set in. That is how he became the newest member of the Rest-Eze Hotel's housekeeping staff. Management agreed to let him continue to stay in his room as long as he spent the day cleaning and preparing bed linens. It wasn't clear if that was the only job available, or if the leering manager just wanted to see what the blonde creature with glowing skin and plump lips would look like as a French Maid, but one thing was for sure – the flimsy uniform he was given simply wasn't up to the task.

Brody threw a duvet cover over the bed and the familiar swish of the dress exposing his ass instantly made him regret it. The phone tucked into his apron vibrated and he removed it to see he had a message from his sister. Probably she wanted to know where he was hiding. To his horror the screen simply read “REST-EZE HOTEL, MAIN STREET”. Another one popped up instantly. “WHAT YOU THOUGHT I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE A RUN FOR IT AT SOME POINT? I PUT A TRACKER UNDER ONE OF YOUR NAILS.” And then finally, “I ALSO POSTED A LINK TO IT ON YOUR ONLYFEMMES PAGE. JUST IN CASE.”

Before he could scream, the door flew open and a sneering figure blocked his exit. Brody stood there in heels dumbly, the duvet still in his hands as Lady Radius snapped the riding crop into her palm.

Content and Contentment

 13/25

Matty glared at his tablet screen with disgust. One of the OnlyFemmes chicks he subscribed to was a guy!? What the hell?! Is was called OnlyFEMMES for a reason?! Not only that, she…he had put some kind of bounty up asking for people to sissify him. Matty took one last look at the most recent post and wanted to throw up. Sissify…that?! Why not hire someone to paint the sun yellow too…

He quickly unsubscribed and thought about all the times he had jerked off to that profile as bile curdled in his stomach. He needed to act fast to top up his masculinity and now he had an empty spot in his roster of digital side-chicks.

Quickly, he pulled up the chart of most popular creators and pulled up the highest ranking one he wasn’t already following. A profile for a girl simply known as “Emi” filled the screen and the image of an elegant latex clad beauty with severe bangs splashed across the top. All other pictures on the profile were greyed out until you subscribed so Matty was unable to tell precisely what kind of content she produced, but already he was enthralled by her swanlike grace and powerful slender figure. He pressed subscribe and was presented with two options - $8 “Be a voyeur”, $10 “Emi will make you Content”. It was a no-brainer, he thought selecting the second option. As his membership status changed to Pending, he turned his tablet off wondering just how content the content Emi made him would make him.

Matty didn’t have to wait long to find out. He awoke in the early hours of the following morning to find himself completely naked and his bedsheets pulled back. A latex gloved hand fondled his exposed cock, squeezing gently to bring him around. “What the f…” he groaned groggily, his eyes following the rubber arm gleaming in the moonlight up to a sternly framed yet gorgeous face. “You…” he was cut off as the hand suddenly tightened its grip turning his words into a yelp. Its partner appeared from the darkness and snapped something metal around Matty’s genitals.

Things moved quickly after that. Matty immediately recognised the intruder as the woman he had admired from his tablet screen the previous day and his body tried to respond in kind, yet his budding erection was thwarted by the confines of its cage. Emi had set up a camera tripod and opened a small black trunk. His heart hammered as he realised what “Emi will make you content” had really meant. When he opened his mouth to protest, Emi calmly pulled out a small keyfob and pressed it. White hot electricity shot out of the device between his legs, instantly silencing him.

Matty was powerless as Emi removed items from the trunk and forced him to put them on. Anything less than complete obedience was countered with pain. First came a pair of white satin panties that hugged his stinging testicles like clouds. Next came a French Maid’s outfit that fit him like a glove and an extra high pair of stiletto heels. Emi took her time carefully applying makeup and dressing his hair up with a ribbon, sparking him every time he moved or caused her to make a mistake.

When her work was finally complete, Emi looked around the room. Appearing satisfied, she removed the camera from its tripod and used a suction mount to attach it to the ceiling in the corner of the room. She turned, her trunk held under one latex clad arm, blew Matty a kiss and left.

Exhausted from all the zapping of his tortured genitals, Matty scooted on his backside to rest against the sofa and look up at the camera. He had a nasty feeling what those greyed out images on Emi’s OnlyFemmes page would show paying subscribers. He also wondered if the paying ‘voyeurs’ had any kind of access to the device cradling his crotch. Nausea washed though him as he remembered he had paid for a six-month subscription. Six months of this?! He kicked off the heels in frustration and white heat enveloped his genitals.

Sissy's Lot

 This is a commission I did for DeviantArt

Michael strutted onto the stage in the town hall with an unusual air of confidence for the occasion. The town's traditional annual Halloween costume auction was typically a bit of a crap-shoot for its volunteers, particularly the male ones. Every year, a selection of locals would sell their dignity to the highest bidder, who would give their bid to a worthy charity in exchange for choosing that year's Halloween costume for their lot. Finding volunteers had become increasingly tough after a few particularly brutal selections in recent years so anyone willing to put their neck, and the rest of their body, on the line would earn social currency within the community.

Social currency Michael badly needed after his recent divorce from local good-girl Sara – hence his agreement to volunteer for this year's auction. However, Michael had a plan. Michael had Roger, who had agreed to outbid any humiliating costume with something much more manly.

The auction started slowly – a buck to be Dracula, a couple to be Frankenstein. When a bid of eight nominated a cheerleading outfit, Michael nodded to his friend and Roger instantly bid ten dollars for him to be a biker. Michael rolled his eyes. Couldn't he have gone with something a bit less Village People...? The bids came in thick and fast after that – twenty to be a ballerina, thirty to be a belly dancer, fifty to be a princess. Sara and her friends had walked in directly from the bar next door and were drunkenly competing with each other to craft the most humiliating costume. Michael glanced to Roger in panic, but his friend had averted his eyes in despair – the going now far too rich for the small roll of bills in his pocket. The total spiralled upwards until finally Michael's fate was sealed with a winning bid of $200 from Sara's best friend, Steph, to spend Halloween dressed as a French Maid.

Needless to say, Michael didn't go trick or treating. When he arrived at Steph's house for his transformation, Sara and the rest of their friend group were already there. They took great pleasure dolling him up in a tiny maid's outfit and elbow length gloves. They waxed his body and painted his face with seemingly endless layers of makeup before putting a wig on his head that smelled suspiciously of glue. The rest of the evening became a shameless celebration in honor of Sara's divorce from him. He was made to crawl around on his hands and knees serving the women drinks and every so often Steph would draw everyone's attention and have an auction of her own. The friends would bid on giving him a spanking, having their toes sucked and even one particularly lucrative lot that resulted in him leaving a lipstick mark on Sara's bare ass cheek. The longer the party went, the drunker the women got and soon he was also answering the door to trick or treaters.

At some point around midnight, Sara gave him a long drunken look and smirked. “I never had this much fun with you when we were together. Fortunately, marriage can end, but blackmail evidence...now that's forever!”

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...”  

Poolside

 22/25

Fernando rounded a row of sunbeds and almost dropped the tray of Mojitos he was carrying in surprise at the spectacle that greeted him at the side of the hotel's main pool. He beckoned over Sonia, a fellow member of the poolside bar staff. She followed his gaze and chuckled.

“I see you've met Mistress Ivanova,” she nodded to the tall blonde woman bursting from her bejewelled bikini. “She arrived Friday. As you can see, she is quite high-maintenance.”

“Quite?” Fernando looked on with sympathy at the figure kneeling before her. He felt hot just watching the sun beat down upon the pink latex. “Did she bring her...erm...maid here with her?”

“Her maid?!” Sonia giggled once more. “That's not her maid. Mistress Ivanova's full time...erm...sissy maid is back in Russia. Apparently he was refused a visa. Of course Mistress Ivanova demanded that the hotel provide one for her for the duration of her stay. But you know how our dear employer is...they aren't going to stump up the cash to hire in a professional sissy maid...if such a thing actually exists...”

“You mean...?” Fernando's voice trailed off as he studied the maid's face. Her face was glistening with perspiration and bits of the blonde wig were clinging to her cosmetic caked face. In spite of this Fernando felt a hint of recognition. “Marco?!”

“Yep!” Sonia confirmed as they watched the hotel guest hook a long fingernail under Marco's chin and smile cruelly. “Supposedly she spotted him during check-in and slipped the hotel manager a fat envelope of cash. The manager made it clear if Marco wanted to keep his job, he should do whatever Mistress Ivanova told him and he took her bags to her room and next time anyone saw him he was like that.”

“Poor Marco,” Fernando cringed. “I guess money talks. How long is she staying? She looks demanding!”

“Two weeks and yes she is. Last night during the evening show Marco was under her table massaging her feet. He feeds her, rubs in her sunscreen and Anna said she saw her spanking him for missing a spot. Rumour is she has her eye on adding another maid to her service for the second week of her stay.”

Fernando shuddered. “Are there any rumours who she wants?”

“Well,” Sonia's eyes sparkled and she nodded at the tray of drinks. “Let's just say I hope you are as good with White Russians as you are with Mojitos...”

Smartly Dressed

 8/25

When Smart Fabric was first created, its uses were mostly innocent. A material not unlike cotton that could disperse mood-altering hormones into the wearer's skin through their pores had the potential to be a real game-changer. Inevitably it was strictly banned in sports almost immediately but in other sectors products were rapidly designed for the mass market. The Empower Suit – businesswear that gave the owner the motivation and confidence of a CEO. Cotton Courage – thermal underwear for military and law enforcement than removed all fear and doubt when in the line of duty. And even the Patience Pyjamas – a fluffy onesie designed for parents that allowed them to stay calm and stress free all day long.

For all the initial benevolence, it was only a matter of time before Smart Fabric was used for more 'adult' purposes. Before long entire ranges of sex products were available for purchase – most of them focussing around the dominant/submissive dynamic. Catsuits that made the wearer feel ten foot tall and handcuffs lined with fur that could render you as tame as a kitten were just two examples of new wares that now occupied the shelves of sex shops and every dingy corner of the internet.

It was from one of these websites that Clara bought a pair of Prison Panties – an especially devilishly sexy pair of satin underwear that promised a broken and eager to please 'slut' ready for use. Of course, she had no desire to ever slide such revolting things up her legs and over her backside – they were merely a trap. Bait.

Clara had become aware of her husband's shameful habit about a month ago when she found a stained pair of her panties stuffed behind the back of their bed. She had found many more since and buying the Prison Panties was her plan to catch him in the act and punish him.

In didn't take long for the rat to make a move on the cheese and just two days after Clara had put the enticing new knickers into her panty drawer, she came home from work to find John whimpering in the kitchen on his knees, entirely naked except for the satin panties hugging him tightly.

True to the product's promise, John was now putty in her vengeful hands and it was child's play to get him into the rest of the items she had ordered from the same site. She watched with satisfaction as he slipped into the sissy maid's uniform and pulled on the assortment of shackles, the Smart Fabric from each rendering him more and more submissive until his weakling sycophancy actually became irritating and Clara applied a ballgag to shut him up.

Two hours later and John was halfway through his chores. Each task completed was its own reward and even though a deep feeling of shame ached within him, it was good to serve his mistress. With only two more jobs to do he wondered what she might have in store next. He just needed to finish hoovering...oh, and order some more Prison Panties so he could be a good clean sissy.

Whatever Happened to Charlie? (Flashback Friday)

 Partying partying YEAH!

What you thought you had got rid of me?

Well I am bringing back Flashback Friday until I have enough captions for a new season. First up we go way back to one of my first captions. You can read the Volunteer here.

Zoli

For our first Flashback Friday in what seems like forever we delve deep into the annals of sissy history to catch up with one of our earliest feminised specimen. You may remember Charlie as a wet behind the ears freshman fratboy who inadvertently volunteered himself to be the live in maid at his fraternity's sister sorority house – Alpha-Sigma-Kappa, and if you do, it's nice to see you're still here. Anyway, six years have passed so how about we take a look whatever happened to Charlie...?

Charlie shut off the noisy vacuum cleaner and smiled at a job well done. He adored the first day of term. The girls would be here soon and the red carpet was awaiting their return, as was the rest of their spotless house – courtesy of their much loved sorority mascot...Charlie.

He still had vague memories of his initial horror at volunteering to be a sissy maid. Six years is not nearly long enough for such humiliation to fade, however, once he had got used to the discomfort of the uniform and learned to walk in heels, he found that there was a fairly big upside. More female attention than he had ever received before in his life was suddenly thrust upon him. So what if they were doing his hair or teaching him how to apply makeup? They were spending time with him. And as he got better at doing his own cosmetics and as his hair grew out, he found that they continued to spend time with him. He was an ear to unload on, a shoulder to cry on and an honest opinion when it came to outfit choices. All this inspired him to work hard with his chores and build trust with the girls.

This didn't go unnoticed by the sorority leaders and Charlie was rewarded with a new uniform, visits from beauty students to upgrade his image and the occasional handjob. The absurdity of what he was doing disappeared into the background and he quickly felt less like someone who merely cleaned the furniture and more like part of it. At the end of the school year Charlie became the first ever live in sissy maid to volunteer for a second term and the first ever sophomore to take the position. Now a second year medical student, he was in his sixth year with Alpha-Sigma-Kappa.

Charlie heard cars pulling up outside the house and instinctively put the vacuum nozzle down. He checked his makeup and outfit in a nearby mirror. He rubbed his eyebrows gently with his glove. They stung a little from being waxed. Next, he smoothed down his apron and examined his legs for any rogue hairs. How could he possibly keep a house in check if he couldn't keep himself up to standard? Doors were opening and closing downstairs now and the same old butterflies gathered in his stomach. He danced in his heels before composing himself and walking to the top of the stairs. The girls were gathered in the hall surrounded by their bags. They looked up to see him watching them from the balcony. Charlie spread his arms wide and his smile wider. “Welcome home!”

Maid for This

Would really appreciate some feedback from the people who offered to read my novel, even if it's just to say it's boring. Here is some encouragement...

Whatever Happened to Martin? (an Aiko Flashback)

Martin is from Server Upgrade

The Fall of the Mannequeen Part 2

The Fall of the Mannequeen Part 1

Remote Control