Washed Ashore

 6/25

Sandy rode the latest wave to the beach on his surfboard and shook his head in disbelief. They were still there... He glanced back into the sea to check if his friends were equally bemused but they were paddling around in the foam. He turned back to the girls.

“Give it up, Ariel. The current is way too strong for cute little things like you. You're going to get washed out to sea with those things.” He smirked as about a half-dozen high-school girls glared back balefully. They appeared to be some kind of swimming club for mermaid enthusiasts and were decked out in latex tails of various bright colours. However, the rough conditions were more than a match for their enthusiasm and they just couldn't get deeper than where the waves were breaking on the sand. Sandy rolled his eyes and headed back into the ocean.

“Bwahahaha”, he doubled over in laughter. It was five minutes later and he had just rode a monster all the way in just in time to see a girl with an orange tail get washed straight into her friend in a green one. They collided hard and squirmed around clumsily in the wet sand, unable to stand. “Those are the most ridiculous things I have ever seen,” he scoffed and headed back out.

By now, the wind was really picking up and the water was getting choppy. Sandy's friends decided to call it a day but determined not to let the girls see the ocean best him, he stayed. The next wave was enormous and despite catching it confidently, he found himself unstable at its crest and plunged forward over the front of his board. He surfaced, spluttering salt water just in time to see his surfboard careering straight for his head.

“Well, the good news is we saved your life...” Sandy awoke to the soft female voice. “The bad news...well, you can see for your self...” He tried to shake away his grogginess and was surprised to find he was looking down at the girls circled below him. A gust of wind blew his long surfer style hair across his face and he tried to brush it away but found his arms were stuck behind him. He looked down at himself and was filled with panic. His legs were also tied and his whole body was encased in one of the girls' pink latex mermaid tails. The shiny material wrapped his body like a thick film. He tried to cry out it protest but a ball gag muted him. “It turns out our tails are good for something after all – bringing arrogant surfer jerks down to size,” the girl smirked, “come on,” she beckoned to her friends, “the sea is getting too rough anyway.” Sandy's eyes went wide as he realised they were planning to leave him suspended from the back of the truck.

“Oh, you thought this was ours?” another girl laughed, “no, no, no...it's theirs”, she nodded to where a pair of weather beaten fisherman were unloading a boat further down the beach. “Word of caution...the ballgag is theirs too. We found it in the flatbed. Who knows what those guys are into... Bye now...”

Goods and Services Part 2

 5/25

Nate glared at the two chiselled guards blocking the door. Don't you know I once stood exactly where you do you stupid meatheads, he thought. You could be looking at your miserable fucking future! He grunted with frustration. The guards' eyes were covered with dark sunglasses but he knew they were staring at his tits. How could they not be? They were so full and perky. The guards were staring just as Nate had done so many times before when they belonged to their boss's wife. Of course, back then they weren't slathered with baby oil and bursting out from inside a latex nurse's outfit. They weren't firmly attached to Nate's chest either.

The handles of the wheelchair wrapped in his red rubber clad fingers offered needed support to his body as it threatened to topple forward under the heaving weight of his new breasts – a predicament made worse by the eight-inch heeled boots laced tightly up to just below the knee. As a result, his glistening cleavage was thrust forward invitingly and he knew that the guards were imagining burying their faces in it. Fools!? He wouldn't be the last to end up like this. The boss, as old as he was, was ruthless and greedy. Nate's new form was proof of how far he would go to get what he desired...to get revenge...

Up until a month ago, Nate himself had been muscle for Salvatore 'Big Sal' Rossi. The old man ruled everything around him with an iron fist and that included his security, but it also included his young blonde trophy wife. The beautiful Latitia had proved to be something of an Achilles' heel for Nate and the usually resolute guard fell under the spell of her feminine charms. When the buxom babe came to him asking for help escaping her tyrannical husband, he had obliged without a second thought. Now with plenty of time to regret his choice, it was Nate who was the buxom babe with the feminine charms courtesy of the Artist's genetic manipulation device.

After what seemed like hours in the white walled room holding the wheelchair and feeling like involuntary entertainment for the pair of security guards, a door opened and a regular woman wearing a regular nurse's uniform stepped in. She beckoned to him and with great discomfort he tottered over to her. Latex crackled and squeezed his jiggling body with every tiny step while his pert ass swayed side to side.

“Mr. Rossi is ready for his afternoon bubble bath,” the nurse stated professionally as if she wasn't talking to a ridiculous genetically modified bimbo. “Also, you'll need to give him his medication,” she handed Nate a small pot of assorted pills. “You'll need this too.” The woman presented a second pot containing a single blue pill and Nate's heart sank beneath his enormous chest. The nurse cleared her throat to keep his attention. “Mr. Rossi requested I check you are wearing the waterproof makeup he bought you, because, and I quote, 'I don't want that bitch's lippy coming off all over my dick in the tub'.” She blushed. “I believe the last Mrs. Rossi was rather skilled at aquatic fellatio.”

Goods and Services Part 1

 4/25

Had to make this one twice as my computer blue screen of deathed as I was about to save it. It is part of 'the Artist' series, which is in full on my linked caps page

zoli

“So this is who you are now? A mercenary selling his services to the highest bidder?” Ms. Williams spat from her position handcuffed to the leg of a laboratory desk.

“Huh?!” Martin followed her gaze to the security guard-turned-bimbo sitting against the wall and staring dumbly off into space. “You had no problem giving people what they wanted back when I was Bianca Beauchamp and what people wanted was to fuck me. At least now I can get paid for my creations...” He turned back to Ms. Williams and shook his head. “Don't worry, it will be your turn soon enough. Soon enough I won't even need to load you into the pod to manipulate your genes as I see fit.” He picked up a gun like device from the desk. “When this is finished I will be able to change who I like when I like where I like into whatever I like. No more of this cumbersome laboratory.”

Ms. Williams glared at him from behind her glasses and watched as the man who had become known as the Artist walked over to inspect his latest subject. She didn't know who he was, or rather, had been. When Martin had rolled him into the lab on a trolley he had been muscled and square-jawed like so many of the military men Martin had changed before but after being loaded into the genetic manipulation machine and shot with the by now familiar blue light, his former masculinity was a distant memory.

“Not bad, eh?” the Artist walked over for a closer inspection. “If I had a wife that looked like this, I would want her back after she ran away too.” He ran a thumb across his creation's plump lips before slipping it gently inside her mouth. The bimbo sucked instinctively while the eyes remained blankly staring ahead. “Excellent,” Martin grinned, “I expect my client will be making good use of that feature. He might need some Viagra though at his age.” He knelt so that his face was level with the former guard. “Sweetheart, I really hope you enjoy old man dick...because if you don't, you've got a long hard career as a trophy wife ahead of you.” He smiled at the hint of a twitch of the blonde's nose.

“You're sick,” Ms. Williams spat on the floor. “Don't get too used to playing God because it won't last. I've seen soldiers gangbang you stupid and I swear one day I will make you wish your life was that good again.”

“Oh but that's where you're wrong,” the Artist sneered. “I hold the power now – over you, over this dumb bitch and over anyone else who crosses my path. Now, Ms. Williams...” he pulled a pile of latex from a filing cabinet drawer, “how about you help me get my creation ready for her assignment? You can apply the lube!”

Ex-Conned

 3/25

A lighter dress-up cap for today. Trying not to top-load the mean ones. The Artist series will return on Saturday...

I'd been sleeping with Zoe for almost seven months when I found out she had a boyfriend. 'Don't worry,' she reassured me, 'he's in prison...for assault...' The alarm bells went off and I should've ended things there, but what can I say? Zoe was smoking hot and I was weak. And, besides, we were already living together by then. Well, technically we were living together before we even got together. I am a foreign exchange student from France. Claude, nice to meet you... Anyway, we were sharing a student house with two other girls and soon enough Zoe and I were sharing a bed and she was sharing the hard end of my...you get the picture. The point is after two weeks I had unofficially moved into Zoe's room.

I pushed the boyfriend issue to the back of my mind, as any red blooded young man would when confronted with a willing vagina, until one day when Zoe ambushed with a request for a favour. It seemed her cuckolded hoodlum of a beau was getting a few days of compassionate leave to attend his grandmother's funeral and was going to spending it here...with Zoe...and me. 'He's a jealous sort,' she explained, 'that's actually why he's in prison. He would hit the roof if he found out I was living in the same house as another guy.' I asked how he would react if he found out she was shagging one and she just stared back solemnly.

Zoe tried to get me to stay somewhere else for a few days but being from another country I didn't know anyone. I suggested just hiding in my room for a few days but that wasn't good enough. Apparently the visiting felon would want to meet her housemates to make sure none of them had dicks that could potentially find their way between her legs. Finally, she had the idea that I should've rejected immediately without even a second thought. An idea that would allow her boyfriend to meet her housemates and never suspect one of them was giving her the old sausage. An idea, that I reiterate, should never even have been considered, but got approved with the promise of some quid pro quo and the international blowjob hand gesture. What can I say...I'm weak.

The day her boyfriend was due to arrive Zoe got me ready in some of her clothes and a wig she had borrowed from a friend. She did my makeup and I am ashamed to say that I looked pretty cute. I have a small frame and quite gentle features and these combined to make me a more than convincing girl. I immediately made myself scarce in my room where I hoped I could wait out the next three days trying not to imagine what was going on in Zoe's bedroom. I managed this successfully until the final day. Nature called and I needed to make a dash to the bathroom. I scurried out of my room and froze like a mouse in front of the door at the sight of Zoe's boyfriend standing in front of me – all six foot two, tattooed and scarred, two hundred pounds of him.

“I'm Kevin,” he held out his hand and a smile cracked his face. “Looks like we're going to be housemates.” He seemed to notice my confusion and immediately looked apologetic. “I just got parole and I'm moving back in with Zoe. Grab your purse, sweetheart,” he winked at me, “I'm taking you girls out to celebrate!”

Liza's First Lesson (an Aiko story)

 2/25

I realised yesterday that I have an outside shot of hitting 5M site visits before this season ends. Exciting!!

Today we have a new Aiko caption. As always, the rest of the story is on the linked caps index page.

“I am sorry Aiko, but what is the point of this again?” Liza tried to hide the annoyance in her voice. She looked up from her position sprawled on the park lawn at the Japanese girl sitting in a deck chair sipping pink lemonade. She was dressed in one of the frilly kawaii outfits from Aiko's enormous suitcase with a boy they had met less than two hours ago in a matching dress with longer sleeves nuzzling into her left shoulder.

“Oh Liza sweetheart,” Aiko cooed. “You have done amazing work so far. But with my help we can achieve something incredible. Think of this as your training and me as your Sensei. Your first lesson is to become one with your subject. Look at him. How do you think he is feeling?”

“Uh,” Liza tried to pull her attention from the gawking strangers in the park to the prissified boy next to her. She had a good idea how he felt. She had never felt so stupid in all her life. The thick cotton stockings itched and the petticoats under her dress kept riding up uncomfortably. “I feel like an alien. Nothing about this feels right. Every part of this outfit makes it impossible to feel remotely normal. And everyone is watching.” She looked up to see a young man walking some dogs stop to stare at them.

“Precisely,” Aiko beamed. “Now imagine all that except it's the only way to satisfy the most intense cravings of your entire life. You are compelled to embrace this alien existence by your own body betraying you for another taste of my sweet candy. By the way, I think Robin has earned another bite, don't you?”

“Here...” Liza pulled out the tube of heart-shaped candies from under her dress and offered one to the boy. For a moment their eyes met and beneath those thick long lashes she saw terror, desperation and shame all rolled into one. Robin snatched the sweet and gobbled it up and Liza watched as he fidgeted first with the wig, then the sleeves of his dress, then he scratched his stockings while shuffling his kitten heels into the grass. She looked back to Aiko. “Every part of the outfit is important,” Liza proclaimed, “every detail contributes to the experience. Every discomfort is a subtle reminder of who they are.”

“No,” Aiko grinned widely, “of 'whose' they are!. Good! You are making progress. Remember though, these boys are not our prisoners but guests to our special world. The outfits aren't shackles but merely reminders of that.” She smiled warmly at Robin, who appeared to shrink further under Liza's arm. “However it's important that you understand their discomfort so you can appreciate how far they will go for a bite of candy. Now, let's get you out of that silly outfit.” She slurped the last of her lemonade and smiled sweetly. “Not you Robin.”

Defiance

 1/25

Starting out mean. Probably gonna get meaner as the season progresses...

“Oh, come now, I know you like it really. Why else would you keep coming back to me?” Mistress Honeypot adjusted a long black glove and smiled wickedly. “Just embrace it. The more you resist, the harder I am going to make it for you!” And with a wrinkle of her nose her subject's breasts grew another size.

“Ohhhh!!” Sandro moaned as his knees buckled. The towering heels he was perched on caused him to lurch forward resulting in his brand new shiny round ass jutting up for his mistress's pleasure. Every inch of his ridiculous bimbofied body rippled with electricity and he had to fight to keep his mind clear. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes begging for mercy, but the tall imposing woman before him remained unmoved. The fire in his skin centred around a furnace between his legs and he fought with everything he had left to resist the urge to slip his slender acrylic tipped fingers beneath the pink spandex thong and work his throbbing clitoris.

“I will get you in the end,” Mistress Honeypot sighed and paused to listen to him pant. “I always get what I want. And once you succumb and rub that pretty little pussy into a frenzy, you will be stuck with the body you have when those sweet cries of ecstasy roll over those plump dick suckers you have.” She clicked her fingers and as if to prove a point, Sandro's already sizeable lips fattened even further giving him a permanent pout. “Ultimately you're only making this worse for yourself. If you weren't so stubborn, you would have had a splendid little female body to enjoy – now look at you! You're going to spend the rest of your life as a walking wet dream.”

“Hhhhhuuhhh,” Sandro gasped and tried desperately to stand up straight but the giant globes hanging from his chest weighed him down and he only succeeded in tilting his head back. A long bleached-blonde ponytail cascaded down his back and settled between his ass cheeks setting off a whole new level of desire from within him. His mind blurred and he found himself fantasizing about having his hair pulled as something long and hard parted his backside. “No!!” he cried, “FOCUS!” The dominatrix's laughter broke his thoughts and he realised in horror he had screamed out loud. Regret seized him in that moment. Why did he have to take his dirty little orgasm denial fetish from camgirls to the real deal? Hands off...hands on. Red light...green light. He wished he had given himself a hands off or a big red light the second he found Mistress Honeypot on OnlyFemmes and started typing out the DM to send her.

“I must say, I am impressed!” The tall woman smiled coldly. “No man has ever lasted this long before...” She snapped her fingers and Sandro's tits ballooned another three sizes until they heaved against the soft fabric that housed them. His face flushed with a cocktail of pleasure and shame. “But you what they say...the bigger they are, the harder them cum!” She placed her hands on her hourglass hips as her new bimbo collapsed onto the white leather sofa, tore off the pink thong and frantically jammed four fingers into a waiting, gushing mound.

Season 6 Prologue (Whatever Happened to the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 1)

 0/25

Surprise!! Not a Flashback Friday but a whole new set of captions. I think I have been a bit mean this time around. Not deliberately but it just ended up that way and a lot of my 'nicer' ideas got pushed back to the next batch because I accidentally made too many.

Today we have the prologue and it is the first part of a story that will run right through the season. It is a continuation of Pink n Prissy series, which you can find on my index of linked captions. I hope you enjoy what's to come...

zoli

The Pink n Prissy Collective huddled around the campfire. Wrapped in a faux-fur lined coat, the girly-girl Cassie cosied up to the leather jacketed tomboy Terri as she flicked through photos of their recent haul of sissies. The last remaining of these prissified boys sat next to them- still unable to speak after his friends had been released from their silence by the antidote to the vocal chord freezing serum. Clad in a short skirt and heels, Sam shivered against the cold and burned with humiliation. He shuddered as Charlotte waved a small pink box at him from across the fire. The tushy tickler was no longer rammed in his backside but the painful aftermath was still being felt. The blonde girl opposite turned her attention to Cassie, shaking the buttplug in its container and winking, receiving a roll of the eyes in response from her fellow Collective member.

“Alright, girls,” Josie stood above them holding a smore. “It has been a few years since we did this.” She smiled sadly. “It had been a few years since we did any of the fun things we have done recently. You see Sammy-kins, as wonderful as it was sissifying you and your friends – good ole' times and all that – we didn't do it just to torture you. There is method to our meanness after all. No, actually we need your help.” Sam looked up at her startled.

“You see, Sam,” Terri took the lead. “We've been dormant for four years and we need your help to fix that. But before we can tell you what we need, we need to tell you why we've been laying low.”

“You'll get your chance to earn back your voice,” Josie continued, “but first you need the facts. You need to know about Stephanie and Kirsten.” She paused to take a bite of marshmallow. “I wasn't always the leader of this merry little group. First there was Stephanie – you think we are mean, well, you should have seen Steph... Okay, long story short, we kicked her out and she did not take it well...”

“Next came Grace,” Charlotte took over, “and sadly, she picked the wrong boy to stuff in a dress. What seemed like a routine sissification went badly wrong and the boy's maniac older sister got involved and...well, let's just say we don't see Grace any more...”

“The point is, Sam,” Cassie looked him solemnly in the eye, “we had two hardcore women gunning for revenge against us and what happened next shaped the last four years of our lives. We brought you here tonight for a campfire story. I know that you didn't come willingly, but I beg that you listen so that you understand what needs to happen next. Listen carefully, because we're going to tell you a tale of betrayal, revenge and sex. And it all begins with a sissy...”