FleshForward

 13/25

It was a full moon and an ensemble of stars glittered over the rooftop bar. Drunken laughter chattered over the thrum of traffic below and glasses clattered together as overloaded waiters milled around the patrons with trays of drinks. He felt dazzled by the colourful cocktails and sparkling fairy lights. One minute they weren't there and the next they were everywhere. Surrounded by people yet alone – a perfectly painted statuette with soft curves and smooth skin. People kept their distance like one might do to a masterpiece in a gallery. It was a chilly night and the skimpy leather dress did little to keep him warm. His delicate body prickled in the cold – familiar sensations on a form that felt truly alien to him. Alone...and then, his name was called. He looked over his shoulder towards its source and soft hair swished across his back. His glossy lips dropped open when he spotted the slender woman in black striding towards him. He tried to focus on her face and then everything vanished...

When the collective consciousness of the earth's population leaped forward two years and thirty-six days no-one knew what had just happened. It only lasted for a little over two minutes but it was enough for people to see their dreams realised, their worst nightmares or, perhaps most terrifying, nothing at all. It was written off as some kind of shared hallucination until stories started to surface online about people who had seen themselves living in great mansions winning the lottery, people suffering life altering accidents after seeing themselves in a wheelchair and others meeting partners they had seen themselves with. With every passing day it became clearer that the world had seen a vision of its future.

Being a famous influencer with legions of online subscribers, Joel was asked frequently about what he had seen. The comment sections of his Youtube videos were stuffed with speculation and his fanbase became increasingly frustrated with his insistence on ducking the questions and reverting back to his usual topics of men's fashion and travel. When it finally became impossible to ignore the probing he just brushed it off saying that he must have been asleep because he felt like he was dreaming. At last his fans seemed satisfied.

But for Joel it didn't end there. What was fun speculation for his viewers was a ball of fear in his stomach. Every time he closed his eyes the sensation of the tight leather dress returned – the squeeze of the high-heeled boots hugging his calves. But how? It was impossible. It had to have been a dream...right? How else could he have had a vision of being a delicately beautiful young woman in a rooftop bar while everyone else's visions were coming true? He couldn't let his imagination run wild. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. And that slender woman that had just moved into his building...the one that always dressed in black and smiled a little too widely when he passed in the halfway...that was just a coincidence...right?

Soul Switchers Part 3

 12/25

Though I eventually regained my senses, I never again regained my own body. I still don't know for sure why Hannah wouldn't switch back, or if she even could. Our undying love as soulmates was a prerequisite of our secret ability and the core trust of our relationship was undeniably shattered that day. I allowed another woman to defile my wife's body with me as pilot for my own pleasure and I wouldn't blame Hannah for not forgiving me for that alone. There was more however. Seeing her unresponsive to my efforts to please her later in our bedroom made me realise that though we had been sharing bodies for years, we had not quite shared everything. It had become painfully clear my wife had not been sharing in the orgasmic pleasure of our lovemaking nor had she shared the honest truth of my failing to her.

With this in mind, I can only imagine how Hannah felt watching me scream and moan while wearing her body. Seeing me squirm and writhe as she guided the cock that had previously failed her into me must at the very least have kindled jealousy...resentment even. My eyes rolled deep into the back of my head while she thrust deeper into the hot pussy I had on loan.

I was too busy screaming into that bead necklace stuffed between my lips to notice Hannah also climaxed. Had I been listening, I might have heard the grunting of my own voice as she shot sticky fluid over my stinging pert asscheeks. It was the first and last time I ever made my wife cum and I genuinely don't blame her for taking this small consolation as her own.

It has been two and a half months since I parted from my soulmate and in that time I have reached glorious ecstasy one hundred and ninety four times. Having someone who can speak to your soul is all fine and well but someone who can speak to your body can take you places love alone never can. Now that I am single, I can share my new body with as many of these people as I like...and fuck me, do I like...

Take Daisy for example, a blonde domina who won't even tell me her real name. She knows how to treat me. She knows how to use me. She knows how to tie a leash around my neck and pull me deep into her drooling gash. She knows how to laugh at me in a way that pushes me even further over the edge – laugh at me while I whimper at the enormous strap-on dildo crammed in my ass. She is one of many...

I am not looking for a new soulmate. I am too far gone for that. I never thought of Hannah as a bimbo or a slut, but now that I have tasted this life in her body, it is all I crave to be. I am just chasing moments... short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments, and I don't care who gives them to me.

Soul Switchers Part 2

 11/25

In those first moments of piercing ecstasy I thought nothing. All mental function ceased and my existence was reduced to pure concentrated physicality. A stranger's face pressed between my legs. Her clawing fingernails scraping the soft flesh of my ass. Squeezing. Pulling. Impaling me deeper on her busy tongue. As the void in my head subsided, I contemplated my soul as I had done many times before. As the orgasm had washed over me it had surrendered control absolutely and Hannah's body betraying me as I betrayed her soul in turn.

I have never tried to hide anything from my wife. We are soulmates after all. And whilst returning home to her waiting with dinner, I realised I was not about to start. The screaming pleasure had ended but its pulsing echo flushed through me. An afterglow so warm that I could only bask in it and drool hungrily into Hannah's panties as I sat on the busy commuter train.

I suppose the fact I didn't foresee Hannah's reaction when we returned to our own bodies should have been my first red flag to how all of this would eventually play out. I had betrayed my wife while wearing her skin and of course upon switching back she immediately knew this. The buzz, the wetness...it would have been as if she had been in that office herself, her lips wrapped around her boss's thumb, sucking obediently while another hand was send crashing across her exposed rear.

But the anger, the shouting, the deserved accusations of betrayal never came. My soulmate didn't want to avenge the sexual debasement of her body, she wanted to experience it. She was feeling the rippling of the waves against the shore but she wanted the crashing tide and everything that came with it. Like I before, the wants of her soul submitted to the needs of her body.

We left dinner to go cold and Hannah dragged me upstairs. She wanted everything her boss had given me and I tried valiantly to provide. I licked and I stroked and I spanked and I pounded and yet all my efforts were met with equal disappointment. With every passing moment of my wife's indifference in the bedroom, it became clearer that Hannah had been hiding something from me all along. Much effort and no orgasms later, she was ready to switch approach.

We swapped places again then. If I couldn't give my wife what she desired, we could crack the code another way. I would wear her body and use my experience from earlier that evening to guide her hand so that we might recreate it in our own bodies afterwards. Any reluctance I had disappeared the instant I entered Hannah once more. The steady thrum of that climax remained as white noise and my soulmate got to work on unlocking it. Like an addict, I wanted that high again and though it took a while for Hannah to break me, eventually I came and I came hard. My mind thought nothing as I writhed inside Hannah's body, a bead necklace shoved in my mouth, a firm hand grasping my hair, and my own cock deep inside me as my wife furiously pounded me into the mattress.

Soul Switchers Part 1

 10/25

Life is made of moments. Short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments. Like the first time I saw my wife. From the moment I looked into those big round gorgeous eyes I knew we were soulmates. Some of you may be reading this, perhaps sipping a hot beverage and nodding your head, thinking you understand, thinking you can relate to how I felt in that moment. You don't and you can't. You see, being a soulmate is not merely being in love with someone. It is not waking every day just to see their face or even being willing to lay down your life for theirs at a moment's notice. It is more. So much more.

Soulmates...true soulmates, carry a secret – a magical, wonderful shared secret. They will never tell you this secret, not because there is some dire consequence, but because they simply have no need to do so. There is nothing more to gain. We are complete. We are one, and we are so...so rare.

True soulmates can share bodies. By this I mean my wife commands the ability to pilot my body and I hers. Our love is so pure, our souls so intertwined, that the very essence of who we are is blurred between us. We are no longer individuals. We are an us. I can be her and she can be me and the limits of existence observe an orbit one body greater than the rest of you.

Perhaps you are wondering if such a secret actually comes with any advantages? Well, think about that for a second. In sharing our bodies, our bodies also share our minds...our personalities...our abilities. Hannah is fantastic at job interviews – she goes to all of mine in my body and I have risen up my company ladder like a helium balloon. On the flipside, I speak French fluently. Last month I was able to pilot Hannah's body to charm her a big new client in Paris and earn her a promotion of her own. We are so in tune that we know instantly when the other wants us to step in – even for just a few hours. Like this afternoon, for example. Hannah slipped up with her new client in a conference call after they were surprised to find her grasp of French had diminished dramatically since their last meeting and was due a dressing down from her boss. I have no problem being shouted at by a woman I don't even know so I was more than happy to jump into my wife's body for an hour after work while Hannah used mine to start on dinner.

Except her boss wasn't interested in just shouting. She wanted to threaten, cajole and punish. She wanted to seduce and to use. Ultimately, she wanted to fuck.

You are probably wondering why I am telling you this. After all, I told you that we soulmates have no need to share our secrets. We have no need for more. I am telling you because life is made of moments. Short, exhilarating, explosive, earth-shattering moments and I now know that the female orgasm is one of such moments, and holy shit do I want more...

The Nihilist

 9/25

This caption features the Bimbo Note and is a follow up to this recent Flashback Friday

Azalea knew how to drip honey. She knew how to move her body, what faces to pull and exactly what to say to captivate her audience and turn them into a sticky mess. These were skills that made her such an enticing attraction on OnlyFemmes. Men would pay good money to satisfy their sweet-tooth with a custom video or a private stream and she knew exactly how to keep them coming back for more.

Today's mark was a rather buff looking nerd and Azalea gazed hypnotically at him down the lens of her tripod mounted camera. On her laptop screen, the man sat on a bed with his legs spread wide slowly stroked a large cock as she swayed her hips gently in her black latex catsuit. Slowly, she eased down the zipper on the front of her outfit, removed one of her fleshy round breasts and began to massage the pierced nipple. The man's tongue lolled out and his hand picked up speed. Azalea moved her gloved fingers to her mouth and one by one suckled them with her plump pink lips while expertly gliding the zipper further down. The other breast plopped free and she replaced her fingers with the newly liberated bosom, gnashing lightly at it with perfect white teeth.

Finally, the zipper snapped just below the naval and Azalea looked down at it with coy surprise. A flick of her eyes towards the screen told her that the man was beating frantically now and she slipped her rubber clad fingers beneath her catsuit and began to rotate. She would need to be quick.

Azalea moaned loudly, her hips thrusting spasmodically towards the camera to the crackle of her latex catsuit. She opened her eyes as wide as they would go and let them roll back into her head. Her audience didn't even seem to notice this little embellishment and she realised he must be getting close.

"Quick," she cried through panted breaths, "tell me your name! I want to scream it while I cum my brains out looking at your cock. The man duely obliged and Azalea instantly regained composure and removed her hand from between her legs.

Ignoring her customer's obvious confusion, she coolly picked up the Bimbo Note from next to the laptop and scrawled the name on the first available clean page. On the laptop screen, the stunned man watched in horror as his erect dick shrank from his grasp and disappeared into his body. He gained curves and breasts and pink satin appeared and wrapped itself around his body. Stockings and then boots creeped up his legs and long hair fell over bare delicate shoulders. The finishing touch, a slutty heart shaped choker manifested around his neck just in time for the newly formed bimbo to begin twiddling a lock of hair – a vacant look on her heavily painted face.

Azalea glanced at the Bimbo note at her side and then at the empty vessel of femininity on her laptop. The honey was gone, only a cold stare remained as she returned her hand inside her catsuit and began to finger herself for real.

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 the Pink n Prissy Collective? Part 2

 7/25

A bit convenient this one fell of a Friday. The rest of the series is on my linked captions page

“The thing you need to understand about Stephanie is that she loved power,” Charlotte began the story and the rest of the Pink n Prissy hushed quiet. Only the crackle of the campfire accompanied her voice. “Not just the power that comes with dressing up boys either – we all had that, as I suppose you have experienced,” she eyed Sam across the flames. “No, with Steph it was always about being number one – whether it meant making a sissy serve her, or treating us like her slaves...like we were undeserving of her leadership. She totally had coming what we did to her but there was no way she was ever going to leave it there. She was going to come for us and we needed a pre-emptive strike.”

“I reached out to her,” Terri stood and took center stage. “I knew she always respected me a bit more than the others. We both dressed alike – tomboy stuff.” She gestured at her boyish outfit sheepishly. “I told her things weren't going so well with Josie as leader after what...errrm...happened to Grace, and that if she could show she still had 'it', I could get Cassie and Charlotte on board to reinstate her as leader. Basically, an audition to reprove herself. She wasn't thrilled about having to jump through hoops but I think she would have done anything to boss us around again. She took the bait hungrily and all we had to do was set the trap.”

“Terri provided Stephanie with a target and told her she had to go all out so that we would all be reminded of how amazing she was at sissifying boys,” Cassie continued the story from her position next to Terri. “You might have already figured it out, but the boy she picked out for Steph was Brent, Kirsten's younger brother. Stephanie knew what Kirsten did to Grace – she wouldn't shut up about it actually, but she had never actually seen Brent and so when Terri pointed him out, he was just like any other future victim.”

“Stephanie followed Brent home from school with us all tagging along, supposedly to witness her genius,” Charlotte took over. “She had a sports bag full of clothes and makeup and as soon as the kid opened his front door, she bundled him inside.”

“In fairness, she did a pretty good job on him,” Terri said. “And it was actually really satisfying to see that pipsqueak prissified like that. It was his squealing that put Grace in Kirsten's crosshairs after all. She just straight up overpowered him and stuffed him into this kind of frilly nurse outfit complete with headband and heels. The makeup was a bit slapdash but what can you do when they wriggle about like that. When all was said and done, Brent just sat there on his own kitchen floor in a daze. He looked truly pathetic.”

“Steph probably should have realised something was wrong when I walked in,” Josie grinned. “This whole plan was to overthrow me, remember? She sure as shit knew something was wrong when Kirsten got home from work five minutes later and started yelling.”