Whatever Happened to Grace? (Flashback Friday)

 Happy Friday everybody!! Today's flashback is for Out of Retirement, which was a three part story from 2016 and can be found here (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). This is part of my Pink n Prissy Collective series, which can be found in my linked captions index.

“Ohh poor baby. Don't clench. You will only make it worse,” Kirsten cooed and stroked Grace's cheek in the twilight of her bedroom. “Look, you've drooled all over my sheets. You'll want to be more careful with that mouth.” She grabbed her toy firmly by the hair and pulled her up into a deep kiss, her tongue sliding forcefully down Grace's throat before she yanked the girl's head back and used her face to mop the damp patch on the bed covers.

“S-s-sorry,” Grace whimpered. She was silently cursing her firm gym-sculpted body as her firm ass seemed determined to suck on the buttplug tail Kirsten had stuffed inside her like a lollipop. With every swat, with every hair-pull, her body tensed even more and her asscheeks clenched tighter around the perverse object until she thought she might explode. Desperately, she tried to pry her cheeks apart but the leather cuffs securing her wrists only allowed a few inches movement and her futile fumbling just resulted in her hole massaging the steel device. She moaned softly.

“Oh, you are such a little slut,” her mistress grinned. “I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on you. Even in those tomboy clothes, I saw your potential. I could see you were just waiting for someone strong like me to make you their whore. You thought you were cut out for sissifying boys? I wrote the book on sissifying boys. And you know what? I'm even better with girls...”

“S-s-so s-s-sorry,” Grace watched helplessly as the powerful girl took out a keyfob and the cold metal of the buttplug began to pulsate in her backside. “Nooo,” she cried gently and tried to send her mind elsewhere. It only worked in as much as she cast her thoughts back to earlier that day when Kirsten had sent her off to school in that humiliatingly feminine outfit. Everyone knew she was now a pet. How could they not? She had gone from wearing jeans and hoodies to being draped in frilly dresses and cute stockings with bows at the top. Even her former Pink n Prissy Collective sisters looked at her with a mixture of horror and pity, fully aware that one wrong move could lead to them suffering the same fate.

“Hush,” Kristen demanded, “there are much better uses for that tongue.” Grace noticed that she had slipped out of her pyjama pants and was sitting with her legs spread wide at the top her bed. The taste of the older girl's pussy was by now familiar yet it was no less unpleasant. The one plus of having her nose and mouth pressed into the sopping gash was that it momentarily took her mind off the thrumming steel ruining her ass. With one hand on the back of Grace's head pulling her closer, Kirsten stroked the tail through her fingers as if it belonged to a cat. As the pleasure from her licking subject grew more intense, her fondling became erratic until finally, in a moment of ecstasy, she moved both hands to Grace's head and pulled her in as she gushed over her face. Kirsten sighed loudly and began to mop herself slowly with her slave's face.

Eventually, the buttplug stopped throbbing and Grace gasped as it was slid out of her ass with a pop. She knew what was coming next and didn't even bother to open her eyes even as Kirsten's juices dribbled down her lashes. She simply opened her mouth ready as she always did. Obediently, as she always was...

Whatever Happened to Edward? (Flashback Friday)

 Happy Friday!! Today we're flashing back to June 2015 and catching up with Edward Pool. See, I can be nice sometimes. The calm before the storm maybe...? Ted Talks was a five part series and you can find the original captions here... Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5

It might be the end of the week but some things just go on a bit too long. This is true for noone more than the subject of today's flashback. When his co-worker and rival, Gloria, injected him with a serum that gave him a high-pitched feminine voice, Edward was faced with the choice of dropping out of the race to become the next National Sales Manager of South Carolina Asset Management or embrace his brand new soft-sponkenness and go to the industry's annual convention as a female alter-ego. Obviously, he chose the former and things spiraled out of control leaving Ted with a long term role in Vegas as a blonde bombshell. Five years have passed so let's see how things turned out...

Edward Pond never did make National Sales Manager at S.C.A.M.. Not that he would shed any tears. In fact, he actually turned the position down. His assignment courting the company's most important clients in Vegas was a roaring success – so much so that it was extended...and extended...and extented, giving Edward a run on the strip to rival Celine Dion. Sparkling glitz, it turned out, was the perfect companion to his silver tongue and being constantly on stage in gaudy outfits, he noticed something surprising – he was beginning to feel comfortable with that.

When Madison, Edward's gorgeous secretary, finally placed the National Sales Manger job offer on his desk, it came with a raft of other opportunities from head-hunters who wanted the skills and charm of his glamorous alter-ego. The chance to travel extensively and earn a seven figure salary came with the caveat he be making much more use of his acquired ability of walking in high-heels. Madison watched as he wrestled with the decision and quietly placed another sheet of paper on his desk...

"Do...re...mi...fa...cough...do...re...mi.." Edward put a manicured hand to his neck and cleared his throat once more. "Do...re...mi..." Even after all these years, his surgically altered voice still sounded alien to him. No more than when he was trying to warm up for a speech. He pursed his painted red lips and sighed. It was the first sales conference in six months and he was nervous. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen so many people in a room together. With shaking hands, he peeked beyond the curtain at the sprawling rows of faces and went back to checking his outfit, his speech notes and warming up his voice. "Do...re...mi.."

"You're going to be fine," the exquisite looking Madison strolled over to his backstage hiding place and smiled widely. "You look amazing in that outfit by the way." She looked up and down approvingly at his expensive white dress. "Here, perhaps this will help you calm down." She stepped towards him, wrapped her arms around the back of his head and pulled him into a deep passionate kiss. Nearby a roadie knocked over a ladder at the apparent sight of the two women making out. Edward's breathing relaxed and he thought for not the first time how taking this job had been the right choice. Madison ended the kiss and he gazed into her eyes. Not that it had been the only proposal on his desk he had accepted that day in Vegas...

Whatever Happened to Alan? (Flashback Friday)

 Hola! Today we flashback to one of my personal favourite captions. You can read the original On the Fly caption here. Have a great weekend!

It's Friday once again and as the weather is getting warmer, it only seems right to make our flashbacks a little hotter. This week we catch up with Alan, a budding scientist whose world was turned upside-down when the teleportation device he was working on accidentally spliced his body with his daughter's Barbie, which had been left inside his invention. Let's take a look and see how fantastic life in plastic really is...

Alan hadn't been outside in nearly five years. Modern online shopping had allowed him to exist as a literal basement dweller for nearly half a decade. Alone since his terrified family had ran screaming from the house, he spend all his time tinkering with the machine that had turned him into a life-sized doll, trying to find a way to reverse the process.

He clambered from the teleportation pod, electricity still rippling through his body from his latest attempt and groaned with frustration at the sight of the long glossy legs that formed the lower half of his body. They shone with a plastic pallor and felt stiff like a pair of giant knitting needles coming together to make round bimbo butt at one end. He had gone through the machine with yet another Barbie and the doll's gymnastics leotard now enveloped his body with the same plastic sheen. It was getting worse... Going through the teleporter with doll after doll might seem desperate, but what else could he do? He had tried starting from the other device, going through with the doll disassembled into its individual parts, going through with a male doll, but each new experiment just resulted in a glossier, curvier, more plastic Alan. Enough was enough...

He looked over to the mountain of dolls ordered online in various stages of dress and sighed. He couldn't give up but his this current line of working was becoming too dangerous. With every leap his joints became stiffer, his body more numb – not to mention he was completely at the mercy of whatever ridiculous hair or outfit came with each doll. He just couldn't go on like this. Looking back at the box of Barbies, a realisation struck and suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do.

The basement stairs were treacherous in six inch heels but his feet were now permenantly molded toes down like a doll's so he had little choice but to brave the climb. His legs were as flexible as stilts and he leaned forwards against the handrail to keep his balance, accepting the inevitable as the skin tight leotard rode uncomfortably up his ass Finally, he was at the top of the stone steps and moved to the house's main staircase while cursing the fact the bathroom was on the top floor. It would be worth it however. If he was going to do this, he would need the sleeping pills in the cabinet. He screamed at his ridiculous body as he tripped up yet another stair and tried to reassure himself that regardless of how absurd his existense had become, it was no longer going to get any worse. He was going to figure out how to fix himself if it was the last thing he did. He was going to get that damned machine to work properly but until it did he had taken his last trip through it. Collecting the sleeping pills, he left his house for the first time in five years – in search of test subjects...

Whatever Happened to Tim? (Flashback Friday)

 I feel like I call a lot of my victims Tim... Anywhizzle, this one is Flashback to There's Not an App for That from 2015

Good morning, you're through to UltraReal Bodysuits Customer Care, my name is Felicity. How can I help you today?

Hello there. My name's Trinity...

Wait...wait. You're a woman?

Sigh...well I suppose I am now...thanks to you...I used to be Tim...except five years ago I was locked inside one of your ModernWoman bodysuits for supposedly violating your piracy rules.

I remember. You jailbroke your suit and ironically turned it into a prison. How is life as a ModernWoman treating you anyway?

Quite well actually.

What...really?!

Well, yes. Of course it took a while to adapt, but once I accepted this was my life now, I was able to use my new feminine perks to my advantage. It turns out being a woman is actually really easy.

Is that right...?

Sure it is. With my computer engineering knowledge from my old life and my new looks and charm, I was able to build a multimillion dollar startup from the ground up.

Not to mention the absolute fortune you have spent in our webstore to enhance your suit. I am looking at your account now. Not exactly playing on a level playing field with the rest of us girls are you?

Well, actually that's why I'm calling. All the new features I've downloaded have been great...the improved vision...the linguistics...all of it. Except the old features that is. The ones from when this thing was just a...sigh...sex toy to me.

The sensitive nipples...bimbo mode..horney harlot mode...

Yes, yes...those...

Sorry, I didn't hear that. There was some noise in the background.

Oh, right. I'm on a balcony on the building I own in the city. There's a lot of traffic right now.

Is that so? So, what's the problem again?

Well, it's kind of awkward. As I said, I am very successful but I still get these urges. Looking like I do, people always seem to think I slept my way to the top and...well...sometimes it gets too much and I worry I might prove them right...

So...?

So, I was wondering if you could turn Horney Harlot mode off?

Sorry, I didn't catch that. The traffic was loud again. What was that about Horney Harlot mode?

Turn it off.

What!?

Turn it off!!

Turn it up? Gotcha. Cranking it up to 11 right now. I'm sure you're gonna enjoy your next board meeting. Have a satisfying day now!

Whatever Happened to the Bimbo Note? (Flashback Friday)

 Well, we've recapped guys and girls and even a cat so now we go one step beyond and look up a book. Not just any book, but the Bimbo Note. The original story is here Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

"Everyone's a smartass...right, Azalea?"

"Arggghh!!" Azalea shrieked and spun around to face what she thought was her empty apartment. Her back had only been turned for a few seconds while she set up her camera tripod to film her latest video for her OnlyFemmes profile. No way had anyone got in. And yet, gazing at her calmly like it was the most normal thing in the world, was a delicate raven-haired girl in a corset and long socks sitting right in the middle of the sofa. A large book rested in her hands. Unimpressed, Azalea placed her hands on her hips, showing no shame for the black latex catsuit she had donned for her planned fetish video. "What in the flying fuck are you doing in my flat?!"

"Why, to give you this of course," the girl held out the hardback, "I'm Rook by the way." She smiled sweetly but Azalea just stood there frowning and creaking in the vinyl outfit. "I assure you it is completely safe – to you anyway. After the last owner's...hmmm...misfortune I have chosen a successor very carefully. I have chosen you Azalea."

"Let me see that," Azalea strode over expertly on the towering stripper heels and plucked the book from Rook's delicate fingers. Brushing her long white-blonde hair from her heavily madeup face, she opened to the first page with her gloved hands. A list of names was scrawled down the ghostly white paper beginning with Colin Pertwich at the top followed by countless more she didn't recognise. She turned the page and paused. The name of the former President of the United States was printed at the top of the second sheet of paper. Azalea's eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at her visitor. "Is this what I think it is?"

"The one and only," Rook grinned. "I had to rescue that from a locked room in Area 51, you know? Such a waste. The Bimbo Note has far too much mischievous potential to be left to gather dust. And so now it's yours – to wreck havoc wherever you see fit – to redefine the world around you – to consign all whom you see fit to a life of bimbodom. Bouncing tits, pouting lips, throbbing clits...the world is your oyster...neh! The world is your personal Barbie doll factory. Everyone is a smartass...until their name ends up in that book!" She watched a smile spread across Azalea's lips as she realised the power of the object she now possessed.

"Thank you," Azalea was almost cackling – a fiery energy burning in her eyes. "Thank you for giving me this. Thank you for trusting me."

"Bitch please," Rook snorted. "Trust you? The only thing I trust you to do is to fill that thing with names. I'm giving it to because if your name somehow ends up in there – and the last three owners' have – I don't see how you can become any more of a bimbo than you already are. Trust you indeed..."

Whatever Happened to Scott? (Flashback Friday)

 I have been quite gentle recently so here's a mean one for all you sadists out there. This is a flashback to Blood Honey.

Friday is here once more so let's take a look see at who is a getting a light reshone on their femme fate this week. Scott was a mob hitman and over his illustrious career he silenced many a target for the notorious kingpin, 'The Don', however, upon announcing his retirement as his boss's favourite marksman, Scott too found himself silenced, albeit somewhat differently. Instead of riding off into the sunset, he awoke to find that his former employer had repurposed his pension towards transforming him into one of the Don's glamorous poolside escorts. Let's see how retirement is treating Scott, shall we...

Scott gazed up from his kneeling position at the assault rifles pointing down at him and slowly raised his hands behind his head. He had looked down plenty of gun barrels in his long career but never anything like this. The South California sunshine felt sweltering from inside his fur jacket and the asphalt bit into his knees even through the leather of his thigh high boots. With his arms raised he felt completely exposed and crowds of onlookers stopped to gape at his sexy feminine body in the virginal white bathing suit – the designer one-piece stretched tight over his smooth crotch. Scott took one last look at the SWAT team surrounding him and cast his eyes to the ground in shame.

That fateful afternoon was the first time Scott had been outside the Don's compound in over four years. After waking up in his own surgically enhanced personal nightmare, he quickly found out that his body hadn't been repurposed into a wet dream for mere aesthetic pleasure. No, the Don had bigger plans. A small fortune had exchanged hands to turn Scott into a sun-bleached babe with killer tits and a pretty pussy and the mobster was damn sure going to get his money's worth. As such Scott would join the ranks of the Don's private army of silent hookers kept on hand to satisfy the needs of guests and to pay the occasional bribe when needed. Stripped of his former physical prowess, Scott was easily kept in check by the mob's bodyguards and a constant slew of potent cocktails. Provided only with a poolside cabana and a wardrobe of revealing swimwear, he was expected to be available to satisfy any number of his captor's associates with his mouth, ass or brand new pussy and when after months of constant use they became stretched and raw, he was sedated for a visiting surgeon to tighten him back up. The days after these procedures were always the worst – his enhanced body parts hugging mafia cock tighter and more painfully that ever before. These were the days that simply would not fade into the drug induced blur.

It was one of these days of heightened awareness that the Don's compound was raided by a SWAT team. In the firestorm of swirling bullets, Scott found himself running out into the street along with dozens of others of his former employer's creations. He didn't get more than a few hundred yards down the street when he was met by two heavily armed agents who seemed to know exactly who he was.

"You know that is the formidable Switchblade Jones?" The first agent nodded to his partner as they watched Scott raise his hands above his head. "He doesn't look so tough now... Hey, you reckon he'll end up in a men's or women's prison? I guess it doesn't matter. Looking like that he'll be plenty popular either way..."

Whatever Happened to Mr. Tibbles? (Flashback Friday)

 I am really enjoying captioning right now. The new season of caps is more than half done and I don't remember being this excited about posting new stuff. I am hoping to have them ready to start uploading by the start of June.

In the meantime, we have a flashback to this caption from 2015...

It's nearly the weekend but before you make your escape to enjoy your well-earned freedom, join me to check in with someone not so lucky. Today for the first time we revisit not an unfortunate young man but rather a furry feline from a past caption. Mr. Tibbles was the beloved cat of the magical Clarissa as she punished her brother for leaving her poor puss out in the cold. Six years may have passed but a new sissy is born every minute so let's see who has fallen foul of some kitty justice this time...

The piano stopped playing and Max found he could finally control his body once more. I say 'his body' with the caveat that the supple ballerina's frame he occupied was certainly not the one he woke up with that morning. The rest of the class were stretching and drinking water and so Max glanced around for a potential escape. It was hopeless. The music would inevitably restart before he got anywhere near the door and his role as marionette would commence all over. His head swivelled desperately and he spotted something else just outside the studio window. Prancing across the room in his ballet slippers, he glared at the cat that had landed him in such a humiliating situation.

“Awww look who it is, Mr. Tibbles.“ Clarissa picked up her cat lovingly and held him up to the glass for a better view. “It's Maxy-poo, the mean boy who let his nasty dog chase you around the park. Well, he doesn't look so mean now, does he? No he doesn't.” She nuzzled her cat's soft fur. “He looks like a cute little ballet dancer. How about you do a pirouette for us Maxy-poo?”

Max stood motionless, his cheeks burning red and his delicate hands clenched into slender fists.

“Oh, don't worry...” Clarissa met his gaze and wrinkled he nose, “you'll be spinning for us again soon enough. How do you like your outfit by the way? It is a gorgeous fit.” Max blushed even harder, becoming hyper aware of the tutu splayed around his tiny waist and the skin-tight leotard pinching into his buttcheeks. He lowered his head in shame and instantly regretted it as his soft pink ballet slippers came in to view.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Clarissa cooed with mock-sympathy. “You look simply lovely in tights. Much better than in those dirty jeans. I bet they smelled of dog.” She looked him up and down again until her eyes settled on his lycra covered crotch. She grinned wickedly in a way that made Max feel two inches tall. “Well, almost nothing..,” In spite of the pixie-esque dancer's body she had bestowed him with, she had let him keep one key part of his male anatomy – a key part that now stretched the material below his tutu and created quite the distraction for the teacher and frankly everyone in the class. He had felt their eyes boring into him as the music paraded his body around the room for all to see. “What's that, Mr. Tibbles?” Clarissa cocked an ear to her cat. “Oh, I agree, bones are for dogs.” She winked at Max. “One thing I will say for dogs though...they are very obedient...just like you.” The piano started up again and Max felt his body pirouetting him away from the window.