Thursday, July 31, 2014

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Week 14

As usual, choose the man you'd love to see feminized in the poll to the right.

Jim Parsons

Chris Pine

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 13 Results

I suspected Donny would be the winner; when I started his feminization, I wanted to emphasize his resemblance to his sister and tried using the hair from one of her portraits, but none of them really worked. So I went with another one that was close to the style she most often wears these days.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Friday, July 25, 2014

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

The Image Stories: Four

"Your next patient is rather unusual, Doctor," the nurse told her employer.

"Unusual? How?" asked Dr. Madelyne Saunders. A respected and sought-after plastic surgeon, she was quite certain she’d seen it all in her 20 years in practice--from men who wanted Cary Grant’s chin to women who wanted to be sculpted to look like Barbie. Nothing could surprise her any longer.

"Well, it’s a husband and wife, you see--" the nurse began.

"--and the husband wants the wife to have bigger tits and firmer thighs; he wants Demi Moore even though he married Kate Moss," Dr. Saunders completed the thought.

"Not exactly," the nurse corrected her. "Well, perhaps I’d better bring them in."

A moment later, she led the couple into the office. They were, indeed, a far cry from what Dr. Saunders had been expecting. The woman was a tall, strong, commanding figure, beautiful in an imperious way. The man, on the other hand, seemed to be completely under her control--he walked behind her, eyes somewhat unfocused, step almost mincing.

Yes, mincing is the very word, Dr. Saunders thought. Even his clothing is effeminate. It certainly was. His pants appeared to have no fly, zipping up the left side, instead, and they were made of a light flowing fabric. His shoes were patent-leather flats with a bow on the instep. As he passed the doctor and she turned to follow him, she could clearly see the line of a pair of woman’s panties across his bottom.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Porter, what can I do for you?" the doctor asked, as she settled herself behind her desk.

"Just a moment, Doctor," the wife said. She turned to her husband. "Donald." He looked her in the eye. "Lullabye and good night." His eyes closed and his head slumped to his chest.

"Now we can speak in privacy," Mrs. Porter continued. "As you can see, Dr. Saunders, I quite control every aspect of my husband’s life. Through hypnosis, I have trained him to be the feminized sissy you see before you. I have decided it is time to take that transformation even further.

"It is my intention to remake my husband physically into the very image of the woman I would want as my lesbian lover. I believe he is an excellent candidate for this change: As you can see, he is quite small, almost petite, and has quite a girlish frame already."

Dr. Saunders was aghast. "Why do you think I would participate in such a plan?"

"I can make it quite worth your while." She stopped for a moment and wrote a figure on a piece of paper and passed it to the surgeon. The amount named would not only cover the costs of any treatment Donald Porter would receive, but would include a great deal more. "Not only that," Mrs. Porter continued, "but I have several wealthy women friends who are in the process of controlling and transforming their husbands and lovers, and I would be happy to refer them to you, if your work is satisfactory."

It was an offer the doctor couldn’t refuse. She asked for a check for a retainer and then asked, "What exactly did you have in mind for Donald?" Mrs. Porter produced a photograph--it was a publicity portrait of a renowned country singer, famous for her exceedingly womanly shape.


One month later, Dr. Saunders was invited to the public unveiling of the new Donald Porter. The event was to be held in a local nightclub famed for its erotic male dancers. She joined Mrs. Porter in the backstage dressing room where she and Donald were getting ready for the show.

The transformed husband was already in a deep hypnotic trance when the doctor entered. He was dressed in a white satin demi-bra that barely concealed any of the massive breasts Dr. Saunders had given him through a combination of saline implants and hormone therapy. His tiny waist was encircled by a matching garter belt; she had reduced its size through liposuction, removal of one rib from each side, and severe corseting during recovery.

His legs, which had been treated with the finest depilatories and softening creams, were sheathed in white nylons, and his feet were tightly encased in white sandals with six-inch heels. Dr. Saunders had, at his wife’s direction, shortened the tendons in the back of Donald Porter’s legs, making it impossible for him to be comfortable in anything less than a four-inch heel.

His hair was a mass of platinum blonde waves and his face, resculptured by the plastic surgeon’s art to closely resemble that of his wife’s desire, had been artfully made-up to heighten that illusion.

As Dr. Saunders watched, Mrs. Porter provided the final hypnotic instructions to her hapless male lesbian lover. "In a few moments, you will be brought on stage by the dancers. You will smile and flirt with them and with any other man in the audience. At the right moment, you will be introduced as The Delightful Dolly. When you hear those words, here is what will happen…." She leaned forward to whisper the all-important instructions, not wanting to ruin the surprise for the doctor. "Once all that has happened, you will awaken from this trance, and Donald Porter will cease to exist."

Mrs. Porter turned to the doctor. "You’d best find your seat out front. The show will begin any moment."

Sure enough, just as Dr. Saunders took her seat, the house lights dimmed and the stage lights came up. A disco-beat version of "Nine to Five" filled the club and the male dancers--dressed as military men--took the stage, delighting the audience with their gyrations. As the music moved into a third verse, two more dancers came out of center stage, carrying the transformed Donald Porter on their shoulders.

A skin-tight, form-fitting white dress with a deep V-neck that showed off his cleavage had been added to his ensemble, its tight skirt ending some eight inches above his knees. The dancers set him down on the dance floor and he shimmied and shayed with them, smiling, kissing, and bumping hips.

Finally, the stage lights dimmed a bit and a single spotlight fell on Donald Porter. From the wings came his wife’s voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, The Delightful Dolly!" At the sound of those words, the newly renamed Dolly Porter’s whole body shook with a massive orgasm, one that was clear to every observer. She collapsed to the stage, still shaking with the effect of the erotic moment.

Her wife strode into the spotlight, and helped the boy-girl to her feet. She turned to the audience. "Who wants her husband to be next?"

A dozen hands went up and Dr. Saunders busied herself with multiplying them by her fee.


Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 13

Once again, choose the man you'd prefer to see feminized in the poll to the right.

Chris O'Donnell

Donny Osmond

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 12 Results

A bit of a squeaker, but Paul Newman is your choice:

Sunday, July 20, 2014

The Image Stories: Three

[Unlike the first two "Image" stories, this one does not directly involve a fictional version of the titular celebrity; however, it is a sort of sequel to my earlier story, Sublime Control.]

"I'm afraid Joe's grades just keep dropping, Mrs. Conroy," the guidance counselor told her. "He's not applying himself and it seems as if he's constantly distracted. Do you have any idea what the problem could be?"

"Yes, I do," Joe's mother replied. But I have no idea how to deal with it, she admitted to herself.

Arriving home, Mrs. Conroy called to her son. "Joe, where are you? Joe, we've got to talk--" There was no answer. But she knew where he was. She went to his room, knocked, and then entered.

Sixteen-year-old Joe Conroy's room could better be called a shrine, a temple of worship to the one love of his life, the brunette bombshell actress that Joe usually referred to as "sigh Jennifer." Nearly every square inch of the walls was covered with pictures and posters of the girl, ranging from her debut as an ingenue to her current career as a busty sexpot. As his mother had figured, Joe was at his computer, searching for and downloading still more pictures of his crush, with the stereo headphones on, listening to rock music.

Mrs. Conroy walked up behind him and removed the headphones. "Mom!" Joe protested.

"Turn off the computer, Joe," his mother insisted. "We have to talk."

Although an hour later, Joe had promised to spend more time on schoolwork and less on Jennifer, Mrs. Conroy knew it wouldn't stick. She had to find another solution. Her sister had recommended the services of a company called Sublime Control, that specialized in dealing with therapy for cases just such as this. She decided to make an appointment.


A week later, Joe reluctantly sat with his mother in the comfortable office of Miss Angela, Sublime Control's chief therapist. He had brought along, as requested, a selection of the most alluring of his Jennifer picture collection. Angela reviewed them, then asked Mrs. Conroy to step outside for a while.

Angela set one of the photos in Joe's line of sight, a shot from early in her career, and asked the boy to concentrate on it. "What do you like about that photo, Joe?" she asked.

"Well, I love the long braid," he said, turning toward the therapist.

"No--keep your eyes on the picture, Joe. Go on."

Angela kept at it for several minutes, talking softly and urging Joe to concentrate on the photo. After some time, she asked, "Joe, are you feeling sleepy?"

"Yes," he murmured.

"Then sleep, Joe.." Instantly, his eyes closed and his head slumped to his chest.


A month later, Mrs. Conroy entered the bedroom and called softly, "Time to get up."

The figure that rose from the covers could have been a twin of the images that once adorned the walls of this room. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back. The deep violet nightgown clung to the abundant curves of her body. She stretched, smiled sweetly, and said, "Good morning, Mother."

"Good morning, Jenny dear," her mother answered. Then the tone changed slightly, "Joe, we have to talk."

The feminine grace of the beautiful girl disappeared, replaced by the awkwardness of a teen-aged boy in girl's clothes. "Mom, how long do I have to keep looking like Jennifer?" he asked in Joe's voice.

"Don't you like it?" Mrs. Conroy asked. "Your body says you do."

Indeed, there was a noticeable bulge below the waist in the otherwise curve-hugging satin of the gown.

Angela had discovered that Joe's interest in Jennifer went far beyond a mere crush; there was a latent transvestite need to look like the beautiful actress within his psyche. With his mother's permission, Angela had strengthened that need and implanted a set of post-hypnotic triggers for it.

Once Joe returned to school as "Jenny," her grades improved, her concentration returned, as long as her need for sexual release in feminine guise was satisfied.

"We have a follow-up appointment with Miss Angela, so I need you to get ready," Mrs. Conroy explained. "Get pretty, Jenny."

With girlish enthusiasm, Jenny leaped from the bed and began her morning preparations.


Jenny sat in Miss Angela's office, again in a deep hypnotic trance. Mrs. Conroy waited outside, as usual.

"Jenny," Angela began, "are you feeling horny?"

"Yes, Miss Angela," she answered. The therapist watched as the nipples of the boy-girl's artificially enhanced boobs poked through the fabric of her sundress at the thought of her own excitement.

"Good," Angela answered. "I'm horny, too." Unknown to his mother, Angela had been using her hypnotic control over the boy to make him over into one more of a stable of "male lesbians" she had created. This was the first, however, she had done without the cooperation of the wife, girlfriend, or mother. That would come later, when she had a chance to engage in a little therapy with Joe's mother as well.

Jenny knew what it meant when her therapist admitted her own horniness. She got down on her knees and lifted Angela's skirt, revealing her naked pussy framed by the black of her garter belt and stockings. Angela guided the boy-girl's mouth to her waiting clit.

"That's it, Jenny," she said. "Feel my excitement grow. Feel my clit get big and stiff. Can you feel your own clit growing, Jenny?" The transformed boy murfled an affirmative. "Good, now you know you can't come until I do, Jenny. Feel my excitement grow along with yours. You can come when I say our special words."

Angela felt the beginnings of her orgasm and she held off the magic words, letting it build and build, until finally she cried, "Joe, we have to talk!"

Instantly, Joe's cock spasmed with his orgasm and he fell back onto the carpet, aware of who he was and what he'd been doing. He tasted Angela's pussy on his lips and tongue and smiled at the taste.

"Well, that was quite good, Joe," Angela said. "Do you regret becoming Jenny now?"

"No, Miss Angela," he replied.

"Want to do some more?"


"Excellent. Jenny likes pussy."


Saturday, July 19, 2014

The Image Stories: Two

This story is fiction. Though some of the characters are designed to resemble real people, none of the events are true nor should they be taken as true.

"It's certainly the biggest challenge I've ever faced," Brad Slammer told the actress's agent. Slammer was a private detective who specialized in protecting clients from kidnapping threats. A master of disguise, he performed his duties by masquerading as the kidnap target, then using his superior defensive skills to bring the kidnappers to justice.

But this would be something different: Pamela, the agent's client, was one of the most recognizable actresses in the world, famed for her tangle of blonde tresses and heart-stopping figure. Fortunately, Slammer was on the slight side and had gone into disguise as women before. He also kept a master cosmetician on staff, as well as a plastic surgeon who could come up with the necessary temporary bodily changes (and the wherewithal to remove them). But the real secret of his success was the psychotherapist who helped him perfect his impersonations with her remarkable hypnotic suggestions.

Caroline Carruthers, the agent, handed Slammer a check. "Here's the retainer we agreed upon," she said. "Pamela will go into seclusion at the end of the week, and you'll take over her public appearances for at least the two weeks following. Is that sufficient time?

"Absolutely," Slammer said. "That's time enough for me to perfect my impersonation, and if the kidnappers haven't followed through on their threats in that time, then my experience is that the threats were never real to start with."


On Friday afternoon, Slammer gazed at his much-changed image in the mirror. The hair extensions blended perfectly with his own bleached hair to mimic Pamela's famous mane. His lips had been expertly enlarged with collagen to match her full red pout. Temporary implants in bust and hips filled him out to Pamela's well-known hourglass look.

"Time for the final touch," Dr. Strange told him. Slammer turned on his spike heels to face the beautiful psychotherapist who had made his abilities the envy of his colleagues in the private investigation and celebrity protection business. As usual, he was captivated by her intense green eyes.

"Ready, Doc," he said.

"Program, Brad," she said, the tried-and-true phrase that dropped the detective into the trance state by which Strange made his mimicking of his celebrity clients nearly indetectible. She sat him before the TV screen and started the tape of selected moments in Pamela's life. "Watch her movements, Brad. She how she slinks when she walks, leading with her pelvis. Note how she uses her hands in little-girl-like gestures, making a distinct sexual tension between her womanly body and her childlike manner. Listen to her voice, breathy and whispered, even when angry. Watch, listen and learn the program."

She left Slammer in that state for the rest of the afternoon, bringing him out of the trance around five PM. "OK, Brad, all you need should be programmed in. Now, remember, once I activate the program, you'll be Pamela for all intents and purposes at all times, except for my twice-daily calls for reports and if and when you are actually in danger. At those moments, Brad Slammer will take control of your body again."

"I know the drill, Doc," he said. "I've got to be at Pamela's house at seven to be picked up for her dinner date. Let's get to it."

"Very well," the doctor replied. "Program commence."

And it was, for all the eye could tell, Pamela who left Dr. Strange's office and Pamela who went out to dinner and dancing that evening.


Pamela/Slammer heard the French door to her patio open. No one should have been coming in that way. Were the kidnappers finally making good on their threat? It had been ten days since the detective had taken over Pamela's life. In that time, she had been on photo shoots, personal appearances and numerous dates as the glamorous actress. But there was something odd, something different about this impersonation. Slammer was discovering that the more he appeared as Pamela, the more he wanted to. And he was particularly enthralled by showing himself off at Pamela's sexiest--the skimpiest outfits, the most outrageous posing and posturing. Many nights he/she came home with an enormous hard-on, one that could only be relieved by jerking off while posing before the mirror.

She opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked into the living room. Two dark-clad figures were creeping in through the patio entrance, both female. Pamela/Slammer closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, breathing heavily with nerves.

What's wrong here? Slammer thought, his psyche buried deep under the outer facade of the sexy actress. I should be charging out there, ready to take those two into custody. Why am I cringing in here, as though I really were Pamela?

She felt the door being pushed open and the two masked intruders burst into the room, throwing the ersatz Pamela onto the bed...and still Slammer's real persona was not reacting to the danger. Her hand went to her mouth as she watched the two kidnappers strip off their masks--it was Caroline Carruthers and Dr. Strange!

"Now do you understand why you haven't tried to fight us, darling?" the doctor asked, sneering. "Because your subconscious recognized us as two individuals who mean you no least no physical harm." She looked at the disguised detective with those compelling emerald eyes, and said, "Program shutdown." Pamela/Slammer lost consciousness.


The combined psyche of the actress and detective had no idea how much time had passed before she was next aware of her surroundings. But she came to sitting quietly in a chair in a room she didn't recognize. Carruthers and Strange sat across from her.

"I see all my triggers--especially the ones you didn't know about--are still working," Strange explained. "You see, Caroline came to me about two weeks before she visited your office, love. Pamela had decided to cut her off as agent."

"Naturally, I was furious," Carruthers continued. "The talentless bimbo had been giving me only the standard ten percent, while I all but kept her together. When I read about your past cases, and the good doctor's part in them, I hit upon a plan. Now, Dr. Strange and I will keep all of your income--as Pamela--while we give you a stipend for appearances."

"Wh-where's the real Pamela?" Slammer choked out, in the actress's breathy voice.

"Quite safe, but unrecognizable," Strange answered, smiling. "You see, I got your plastic surgeon in on the deal as well. He gave her a breast reduction and some facial adjustments, while I 'sculpted' her psyche. She's teaching home economics, I believe."

"With the changes the doctor made in you," Carruthers added, "you're far sexier than she ever was, anyway. You see, thanks to your programming, you want to be sexy. You revel in it. Pamela was just going through the motions."


A month later, the "new" Pamela was posing for another magazine layout--showing off her legs in the shortest of shorts, letting her attractive breasts peep out of an open jacket. And all the while, Slammer felt his cock grow and pulse beneath the sexy clothes. He remembered Dr. Strange's last words before he left the house that morning:

"You can come when you arrive home," she'd said, "provided you give me an adequate orgasm. And remember, no orgasms for you except according to program."


Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!

Friday, July 18, 2014

The Image Stories: One

This story is fiction. Though some of the characters are designed to resemble real people, none of the events are true nor should they be taken as true.

"It's more than I can handle," the stunning actress told her publicist.

"What's that?" Rachel asked. "What can't you handle, Teri?"

The star, who had become a "queen of the Internet" since taking the role of a superhero's love interest, sank onto the couch in her dressing room. "This new guy my fan club elected as president," she answered. "I've found out he's one of the geeks who plasters my face and body all over his website. Jack Stewart even goes so far as to use a morphing software to make videos that transform his own picture into mine!"

"Really?" Rachel mused. "You know, Teri, could be this guy has something more than a big-time crush on you. Could be he'd really like to be you!"

"Oh great!" Teri exclaimed. "I get to be the actress with a male fan-club president who wants to win the Teri Lookalike Contest!" She rubbed her eyes. "What am I going to do, Rachel?"

Rachel smiled. "I've got an idea--remember that course in hypnosis you took last year....."


Jack couldn't believe his luck--only two weeks as president of the fan club and already his beloved Teri had invited him for an interview. It had taken the previous president six months to get his first visit with her.

He drove up to the gate and buzzed. Once he said his name, the gate opened electronically and he drove to the entrance of the house. A tall blonde was in the doorway; he recognized her as Rachel, Teri's publicist.

"Teri is waiting for you in the salon," she said, escorting him in.

As they approached the salon, Teri appeared in the doorway, clad in a form-fitting black gown that revealed her spectacular cleavage. She posed, one hand on her hip, the other tousling her raven hair. "Hello, Jack. Good of you to come," she purred.

The staff served lunch as Jack asked the usual fan club questions. He sipped the wine, and within a few minutes, began to feel somewhat groggy. Teri opened her eyes wide and said, softly, "Feeling sleepy, dear?" He nodded, woozily. "Well, that's OK," she continued, "just lean back and listen to my voice...."

Teri continued that way for several minutes, until she was certain he was completely hypnotized by the combination of the sedative in the wine and her own voice. "All right, Rachel," she announced, "let's get him dressed."


Twenty minutes later, Jack was dressed in an outfit identical to Teri's. His boobs had been pushed up by the corset they laced him into under the black gown, and his legs were sleek in the sheer nylons and four-inch heels of his pumps. The wig he wore was one of the ones Teri sometimes used on bad hair days, and Teri had gotten one of her friends from the studio makeup department to do her best to make him the spitting image of his favorite star.

Now, the two near-twins sat on either side of a vanity. Between them was an empty frame where a mitror would normally be. Teri spoke to her fan club president wannabe: "Jack, you're sitting in front of a mirror; the image you see is as you really want to be. Whenever you hear me say, Jack is Teri, that is the image of yourself you will see and want to have. When I say Jack is back, you will return to your normal image and personality. If I say Teri's had too much wine, you will return to this trance state." She paused. "When I reach 'one,' you will awaken and know the happiness I have given you.


Jack/Teri's eyes flew wide open as she saw what she thought was her own image in the mirror. Her hands flew to her face and she giggled. "Oh my!" she said, in a close approximation of the real Teri's voice, "I'm beautiful! Thank you so much for giving me this!"

For the rest of the afternoon, Rachel and Teri watched in awe and amusement as Jack/Teri mimicked all of Teri's movements and gestures. Finally, Rachel realized something. "Teri, I don't know about you, but watching this little boy-girl strut his stuff at our command has me horny as all hell," she said.

"Me too," Teri agreed. She looked right at her self-created twin and said, "Teri's had too much wine." Jack/Teri stopped what she was doing and her head slumped to her shoulders. "I have some instructions for you," Teri explained.......


By twilight, Teri and Rachel decided they had had sufficient fun with their creation for the day. It was time for the humiliation. They escorted Jack/Teri to the door and said their goodbyes, and Teri ended with "Jack is back".

Instantly, a new light shone in Jack's eyes, as he realized who and where he was and what he'd been doing. "Time to go home," Teri repeated.

"I can't go home like this," Jack protested.

"You can and you will," Teri insisted. "What's more--you really want to." And Jack knew that he did.


One month later, Rachel entered Teri's office with a frown on her face. "We have a problem."

"What now?" Teri asked.

"You've been invited to attend the premiere of the new sex-scandal movie, Breast of Everything. You can't refuse--the director is the guy in charge of your new project," Rachel explained.

"Yeah--and with all the nonsense from my appearance on Seinfeld, the paparazzi will be all over me," Teri agreed. "We need a distraction."

Suddenly, Rachel lightened up. "What about--Jack?"

One hour later, the two were at Jack's home. Getting no answer from the bell or knocking, they began to explore the yards. "Oh lord," Rachel said, as she gazed into one of the patio windows.

"What is it?" asked Teri, as she tried to see as well. "Heavens!"

There, on the floor of the patio sat Jack, his short hair very visible, but otherwise looking like the twin of Teri the two women had created just weeks before. He had a serene look on his face as he comtemplated in his own image in the mirror.

"He's really gotten into this, hasn't he?" Rachel asked.

"Apparently, all he needed was the right push," Teri agreed. She knocked on the patio door and Jack rose to greet them.

They explained the problem. "I don't know, Teri," Jack objected. "I mean I love that you've given me all this," he said, indicating his quasi-feminine appearance, "but to appear in public as you? That first trip home was humiliating enough."

Teri lay down on the floor before him--her luscious breasts visible, her long legs in sheer stockings and high-heeled sandals. Jack was still enthralled by her. "Teri's had too much wine," she said...and he returned to the hypnotic trance.


They spent the next two weeks before the premiere hypnotically coaching Jack in everything he would need to know to impersonate Teri and keep the paparazzi off the track.

The evening of the affair, Teri decided it was only fair to let Jack know everything they had done. "Jack is back," she announced and the memories rushed into his psyche.

"I can't quite figure out why I'm so excited by this," Jack said, once he was completely in his own mind. "My cock is hard as it's ever been."

"You still don't realize it, do you?" Teri answered. "You've always wanted to be me--I just let you have what you wanted. I thought I was punishing you for making me a sex object...but you love it and I've found I love having control of you this way." She grinned. "Time to get ready: Jack is Teri."

The male-female twins dressed in identical outfits for the evening--crocheted lace evening gowns over nude bodystockings and strappy sandals.

At the theater, they arrived in separate cars, Jack/Teri first, at the front; the real Teri later at the rear entrance. While Jack/Teri was mobbed, begging off the questions of the press, Teri entered and took her seat quietly. Rachel joined her with the false star a short time later.

As the movie ended, Teri leaned over to Teri/Jack and whispered. He smiled in response. As the lights came up, they walked side-by-side out of the theater, as the paparazzi watched in confusion. They posed back-to-back.

"You thought you had all those pictures of me that you could use with some made-up quotes," Teri scolded them, "but the joke's on you!" She pulled off Jack/Teri's wig and announced, "Jack is back!"

His male psyche restored, Jack roared in his deep voice, "Anything you want to ask me now?"


Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 12

As usual, pick the man you'd love to see feminized in the poll to the right.

Paul Newman

Chris Noth

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 11 Results

No one wanted to see the "Six Million Dollar Sissy," so Christopher Meloni won the poll:

Monday, July 14, 2014

Sissy Cotillion

I'm giving the current poll a few more days, so don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Decisions, Decisions

I'm giving the current poll a few more days, so don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!

Friday, July 11, 2014

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 12

Once again, pick the man you'd prefer to see feminized in the poll to the right.

Lee Majors

Christopher Meloni

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 11 Results

Another shut-out, this time for Shia Labeouf:

Saturday, July 5, 2014

She's Got Legs

Not enough for a normal monthly video, so this retrospective look at my leggiest outfits instead.

Don't forget to pick the man you'd prefer to see feminized (details here)!

Friday, July 4, 2014

Office in Reverse

This one is not much different from many other stories I've done, save for the elements of clothing role reversal (perhaps played down more than some would like) and the one attempt to have the hypnosis somehow affect the physical body (which I'm pretty certain is unlikely). Still I was pleased with the subtlety of the final scene.

Garrett was surprised to find that the office staff seemed to be completely female...and that all the staff seemed to be dressed in a slightly feminized version of a man's business suit: The shirt was often satin, the jacket slightly more tucked at the waist, the pants flared at the hem, and high-heeled pumps were worn instead of oxfords.

But--even more surprising from a high-tech software/hardware innovator--the women were all beautiful, including the boss, Tamara Sullivan. She greeted him in the reception area and escorted him to the conference room. After a brief but successful interview, she announced, "You're hired, Garrett." She went to a cabinet and brought out an interesting device--it looked like a slightly enlarged personal CD player with some form of headset and visor attached.

"This is our newest product--the one you'll be helping us market. We haven't got a name for it yet, but it's designed to operate as a personal portable interface to the Web, as well as an electronic organizer," she explained. "Right now, the CD in it merely explains the product and a little about our company, Reverse Control Inc. Take it home, use it tonight, and come back tomorrow ready to give me your marketing strategy ideas."


Garrett settled in his easy chair, placed the headset over his ears and eyes, then pushed the button for play. A series of remarkably life-like images appeared in the visor that blocked out all peripheral vision and a quiet soundtrack began to play in his ears.

Somewhere along the way, he must have drifted off, for he awoke with the device still playing and the headset still in place. He pulled it off and glanced at the window. Hey, it's light out! Did I sleep through the night? A quick look at his watch confirmed it--the time was 6:30 AM. He jumped from the chair and began to get ready for work.

He strode into the office precisely at 9, unconsciously admiring how attractive all his co-workers looked in their masculine, yet sexy attire. He'd just settled into his office chair, when the intercom buzzed: "Garrett, it's Tamara. Please come to my office."

Garrett went immediately to his boss's office and took a seat when offered. Tamara sat behind her big dark desk and smiled, "So, Garrett, any thoughts on Reverse Control? How about our dress code?"

Instantly, and without any idea why, Garrett stripped off his clothes. Tamara stood and walked around him slowly. "Very nice, very nice--but you'd look so much better with nice, round boobs." Garrett stared in astonishment, unable to move from his place, as he felt his chest swell and enlarge, his nipples and areolas growing as well, until his flat upper body was replaced by a pair of well-shaped breasts. "Yes, just about 34C," Tamara remarked. "Lovely. Have a seat, Garrett--or should I say, Greta."

Tamara smiled again, amused by the befuddled expression on her new employee's face. "You see, Greta, while the device I gave you last night is indeed our newest product, and will be marketed as a personal organizer/Web interface, it is far more than that. It is a controller, it permits this company to take control of the mind and body of anyone--especially any male--who uses it. You were our first practical test."

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out another of the devices. Garrett all but lunged to get his hands on it. "Ahh, I see that part of the programming works as well," Tamara nodded. "Yes, every use of the device makes the user want to use the device again...and again and again, reinforcing the subliminal hypnotic controls. Perhaps later, dear--we have work to do."

She got up and opened a closet, where a dozen or more dresses and skirts and blouses were hung. She pulled open a drawer filled with lingerie. "You've no doubt noticed that all the women in this company wear fairly masculine clothing; obviously, in fairness, the men--and you're the only man, so far--must wear feminine attire. That, dear Greta, is our dress code."

With that, the second sound of the trigger phrase, Garrett rose from the chair and began to put on the feminine clothes, ending up in a short-skirted business suit. "Very nice, Greta--but I'm afraid there's still a touch too much masculinity in that face." She pressed a button on the intercom. "Mary, is that appointment at the company salon all

"Yes, Tamara," a voice responded. "The staff is eagerly awaiting Greta right now."

Six weeks later, Greta walked confidently in her four-inch heels into the conference center at the Spring Office Electronics Show. She delighted in how every male eye in the place followed her nylon-encased legs in their thigh-high skirt.

The suit she wore was cut to make the best of her legs and breasts, a hint of cleavage showing in the V of her jacket's lapels. The scarf tied around her neck gave just the right air of jauntiness, enough to offset the business-like effect of her outfit, to say to a man, "OK--I'm here on business, but I can have fun, too."

She took the stage, and clicked on the reading light. "All right, gentlemen, I'm here to tell you about Reverse Control's new RC-101 Controller/Organizer. If you'll all just place the headsets over your eyes and ears, and hit the play button?"


Don't forget to pick the man you'd prefer to see feminized (details here)!