Wednesday, December 24, 2014

The Starving Artist

Merry christmas, lovelies! I've been getting back into the swing of things again, and if you're a fan of my stories then there'll be a few of those going up in the coming week (once I finish the covers)!

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Like a caption, but without pictures!

So for the past week I've been feverishly working on a CYOA\rpg, and I thought I'd post an excerpt  If you're familiar with Corruption of Champions, that's a lofty example of what I'm shooting for here. The premise is a pretty familiar one in tg fiction - your character has been abducted and is being slowly feminization at a school that specializes in that sort of thing (complete with school uniforms, of course). Make friends! Wear dresses! Try to escape, maybe? Read it and leave a comment!

Julie warns you not to run, but there's no way you're going to sit here and take whatever is in those syringes. You fly out the door while she's still walking her way across the room and begin running pell-mell through the halls, the hard soles of your mary janes tapping wildly. 

You take the first turn you can find and nearly collide with a tall, tan woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. As you cry out an apology you find you're being gently guided away from your destination and toward the floor. By the time you realize what's happening you've been mounted, and she finds a nice place where the wall meets the floor to wedge your face and holds you there until the doctor catches up with you. 

"Ah, I see you've met our newest student. Melissa, this is Ms. Nielson."

"I'm sure she's charmed. What's the charge?" Adds Ms. Nielson, grinding your nose in a little more.

"Plotting escape. Can you believe it? Right before my eyes." 

"Ahhhhh." She leans in close, close enough that you can feel her breath on your neck. "Is that what you want, little girl? A way out of here? Because we can arrange that." 

The hand that isn't controlling your head wanders up your skirt, and you make an involuntary squeek as she roughly grabs your butt through your thin cotton panties. "Plump up that butt, give you a nice big pair of fake tits, and send you off with the rest of the rejects? Does that sound better, pussy?"

"N-no, please" you stammer into the wall, desperately writhing under her grip.

She releases her grip on your neck just long enough to grab you by the hair, and wrenches you into a sitting position before the doctor.

"Then apologize to Dr. Lenore for not taking your punishment like a good girl." 

You start to murmur, but Ms. Nielson yanks again on your scalp.

Tears forming in your eyes, you kneel before her and beg. "I'm sorry..."

The hand holding your hair twists tighter. "For what?"

"I'm sorry for not taking my punishment like a good girl." The strength goes out of you as you speak those words, but Ms. Nielson releases her grip on your hair - it feels worth it.

The doctor cocks her head slightly at you. "To be honest, I was hoping you'd run - there are a few things I've been wanting to try..." 

Cowed and beaten, the best you can do is stay limp as she steps forward with the needle...

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Playtime is Over

Just a quick (but not too explicit) caption as I try to wind back up after a long hiatus.

Friday, January 31, 2014

A Worthwhile Investment

It's been a little while, so I thought I'd throw a little something together. :P
Lately I've been hard at work on my stories rather than my caps, but they're such a nice little medium that I can't resist a diversion now and then. The trashiness of this pic just captured my imagination, what can I say? The bright red hair piled high, the skimpy top, the practically non-existent shorts... it's the kind of look I think a lot of us wish we could pull off. :3

Friday, January 17, 2014

A Little Darker Than Usual

I usually like my caps light-hearted, but once in a while you want something... dark.

Forced surgery is incredibly common in tg fiction, but it's kind of interesting how mundane it can come to seem - at least the usual 'modifications'. Like anything else in a story it's not so much what happens as how it's done, but when one curious friend of mine found out it was a common theme in my books they were aghast. An understandable reaction, really.

Being surgically modified without one's consent is one of the most horrific things that could happen to someone - movies like Saw and Human Centipede ride the same feeling of helpless, permanent transfiguration that's at the heart of a lot transformation erotica (tg and otherwise). Just knowing that you're play-doh to them, that you're a toy designed to be twisted into whatever shape your owner wants - it's the ultimate version of physical submission. A very repellent idea to most people, but it's something that's at the heart of most submissive kink - and this caption. Just like similarly extreme and horrific measures like brainwashing or hypnosis, it's about shattering a person's sense of self. But to me it's not about the pain or the torment or the gritty horror-movie details surrounding the change, but the final and utter submission it results in.

The suffering isn't the point - it's the surrender. So forgive me if it seems like I'm glorifying or fetishizing the wrong thing here, I swear I'll be back to normal soon. :P

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Feeling Pretty

So as some of you might know, I'm an amateur writer of transgender erotica. When I first started writing seriously about six months ago my mind was filled with all the pretty, feminine items I'd be able to buy now that I could afford them - but of course, things didn't go quite as planned. But the bills are paid and savings is saved, and now it's time to indulge my less practical hobbies. :3

On Sunday I finally ordered a pair of breast forms (shout out to Glamour Boutique!), and I have to say I couldn't be happier. They arrived about twelve hours ago and there's been maybe... three, four hours where I wasn't wearing them? Just picking them up sent a chill down my spine. They were heavier than I expected (appropriate for a 44D), and somehow that made them even better - feeling them tug on the straps and sway as I moved was sensational. I was hesitant at first, but I'll definitely be picking up some adhesive so I can get the full experience. Being able to look down and say 'those are my breasts' is a fantastic feeling, and one that I get reminded of every time my arm brushed against my new assets.

It's a strange thing, confidence. The last time I dressed up was for halloween 2012, and gathering the courage for that apparently tapped me out for the better part of the year. Which was understandable, as I had basically just outed myself to everyone I knew, but lately I've been regressing and the doubts are creeping back in. After so much work to become comfortable with my fetish, I was going right back to being ashamed - even more so now for being so open and 'weird' about it.

But now something as simple as fake latex tits has me feeling more beautiful and confident than I have in months. I'm planning on spending the next day fully dressed and relaxing with my roommates (who are totally in the know, of course), which is something I haven't even contemplated in months. Hell, I may even work up the courage to go shopping en femme soon.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't be ashamed of the things that make you happy. So many people (myself included) indulge their tg kink with captions and stories and often feel miserable afterward - but what good does that do? Embrace your inner beauty and let it shine out - you'll be much happier for it.

That's all for now, just wanted to put these thoughts into words. I'll try to follow my own advice, and I hope it ends up meaning something to you. Until next time~