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Miss-Taken Identities

Copyright 2017 FFF Publications

Edited by Sally Bend

Featuring Kylie Gable & Claudia Acosta, Sally Bend, Reed James, Mindi Harris, Kella Z. Driel, Moctezuma Johnson, and Lyka Bloom

Published by FFF Publications at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents


PART ONE: Gender Swaps and Transformations

Pegging Sue

Sex Toys and Doll Parts

Futa Witch Gender Swaps the Cheater

PART TWO: Crossdressing and Sissification

A Two-Piece Bikini

Happily Ever After

The Construction Outfit

Catch and Release

About the Authors

Other books by FFF Publications


Femdom. Futanari. Feminization. These are the 3 F’s that make up FFF Publications.

Back in May, our kinky gang of authors put together our first anthology, Lipstick for Her Leather: An Anthology of Transgender Femdom Erotica. As you can probably guess from the title, it paid homage to the first of those three F’s with a collection of stories that explored our love and admiration for dominant women.

A few months later we followed that up with Futa Explosion: Four Hot Futa Stories. While welcoming back a pair of authors from our first anthology, it also introduced two very exciting new contributors to the mix. Together, we all had some messy fun indulging our love of futanari beauties with a collection that embraced the second of our three F’s.

That, of course, brings us to Miss-Taken Identities: An Anthology of Feminization Fantasies. In our biggest collection yet, we welcome back authors from our first two anthologies, while welcoming two more to the group. With the last of our three F’s allowing for such a wide range of exploration, there is a little something here for all readers.

For fans of gender swaps and transformations, Kylie Gable & Claudia Acosta offer a deliciously creepy tale about hitchhiking and urban legends; Sally Bend weaves a cautionary story of secrets, conspiracies, and being careful what you wish for; while Reed James has some fun with a witch who is determined to turn her boyfriend (and herself) into the perfect lovers.

If your feminization tastes run more towards more traditional crossdressing and sissification, Mindi Harris offers up a story of twin siblings, bikini shopping, and bet that very quickly gets out of hand; Kella Z. Driel invites us to apply for a job at a firm with a very strict workplace feminization policy; Moctezuma Johnson explores the smutpunk goings-on of injured construction workers and home renovations; and Lyka Bloom introduces us to a novice sissy who finds himself kidnapped and offered an exciting new life.

We hope you enjoy, and we would be absolutely delighted if you can find a moment or two to leave a brief review. Really, every review helps, even if it’s as simple as “I loved it” (and we hope you do!).

PART ONE: Gender Swaps and Transformations

Pegging Sue

by Kylie Gable & Claudia Acosta

Copyright 2017

The fog was creeping over Route 11 when Jared Hogan dropped off his girlfriend Nadine at her home on the outskirts of town. She was getting to be such a drag lately. He was a man and he had needs. She should give in at least sometimes. Instead, she just turned him on and left him hanging. Once again he was nursing a pair of blue balls.

He grumbled as he pulled into the left lane to rush home and relieve his growing tension. In the distance, his headlights revealed a lithe figure hitchhiking. As he got closer, he slowed his Toyota and slipped into the right lane to take a better look. You just didn't see hitchhikers that much in Brookhaven anymore, and you never saw girls like this one.

Jared slammed on the breaks and turned off the radio. He knew the hair metal station he listened to was not going to impress a girl like this. He eased to a stop about five feet from the young woman. She was a beautiful blonde girl, about twenty-one, just like him.

As Jared studied her more closely in the dim light, he realized that the way she was dressed was seriously out of date. Her honey-colored hair was in a ponytail held in place by a large white ribbon. She wore a white cardigan sweater and a pink poodle skirt. Her feet sported a pair of pink pumps, but there was no hiding her figure or her face.

"Hey, my name is Jared,” he called out through the passenger side window. "Hop in; it's a nasty night out. I'll give you a lift."

"Thanks, I’m Sue!" chirped the bubbly blonde, hopping inside and closing the door behind her.

"Are you coming from a Halloween party?"

"Gosh no," she replied. "Do I like that ghastly? I was coming from a dance."

"Heavens no! I think you look amazing. I just meant you're dressed kind of old-fashioned."

"I guess so," she said. "Fashion really isn't my thing, though I try to read fashion magazines whenever I'm at the beauty parlor."

"I'm the same way," said Jared. "Not about the beauty parlor, but the way I figure it, if it's comfortable then wear it."

"You're funny," she said. "I like that."

"Where am I taking you?" asked Jared.

"Oh, just follow this road and then take a left."

Jared liked this girl. She appeared lively and enthusiastic in a way that his girlfriend wasn't. She seemed really interested in what he had to say. Nadine didn't seem to care anymore. Sue certainly didn't give off a promiscuous vibe, but Jared got the sense that she'd do things to please her man. Not his girlfriend. Nadine had hard and fast limits that she wouldn't cross for any man.

The fog had given way to the kind of autumn storm that only people in New England understand. It was a driving rain, but even worse, the wind felt like it was threatening to cut right through to your bones.

Night had fallen hard and only the headlights and the old wiper blades allowed the car to amble its way along the small old country roads that Sue was leading him down.

"It sure is a nasty night," said Jared.

"I'm so glad you came along," replied Sue, "it probably wasn't very smart of me to storm off."

"From your boyfriend?"

"Not anymore," she replied. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," lied Jared. If things worked out with Sue maybe he'd upgrade from Nadine, he thought.

"Can you put on the radio?" she asked him, moving in closer and snuggling against his body.

"Sure, but we can change the station," he said putting on the radio and being astonished that there was no Warrant or Winger forthcoming. Instead, it was a 1950s rockabilly song. He was pretty sure the artist was Buddy Holly, but he didn't know enough to be sure.

"That's odd," said Jared. "This is supposed to be a hair metal station."

"Well I think I like this better," replied Sue.

"You like oldies?" asked Jared.

"I don't really know what an oldie is."

"Music that's more than a couple months old," replied Jared.

"Turn left here. It's the third house on your right."

"The one with the nice porch?"

"That's it," replied Sue.

Jared pulled his car in front of the house, splashing most of a large puddle onto the front lawn.

"Wow! This storm keeps getting heavier and heavier," observed Jared.

"Why don't you come inside until it blows over? You shouldn't be driving in this kind of weather anyway."

Jared would be the first one to tell you, driving through the rain was preferable to getting caught out in it, but he wasn't really thinking about that. He was eager to get to know Sue better, so he said, "Sure, let's make a run for it."

They sprinted out of the car and up to Sue's front porch. She did an admirable job of running in heels on wet pavement, but she fumbled for the keys. They both got drenched as they stood in the downpour before she finally threw open the front door and they rushed inside.

"We're soaked," declared Jared.

"I know," replied Sue. "Why don't you put on a record and I'll go slip into something more comfortable."

"A record?" asked Jared.

"Yeah, the hi-fi is over in the corner and I've got a pretty big collection."

"Sure," said Jared. Sure enough, inside the polished wooden cabinet were a couple dozen records and fifty or sixty singles. He looked at the LPs and saw names like Bobby Darin, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, and Roy Orbison. He grabbed an Orbison record. It was called At the Rock House and it was nearly sixty years old. This girl sure had interesting taste in music.

Jared listened to the music coming from the record. It wasn't really his cup of tea, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Plus, it was a love song and that was probably a better idea right now than screaming guitars.

He looked around the house and noticed the place looked strangely dated. There were magazines on the coffee table and they were all from 1962. The pictures on the walls appeared to be of the same vintage, and the television looked like some kind of antique.

"Roy Orbison? That's a good choice," said Sue, emerging from the bathroom wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. That was not what Jared had hoped she would change into, but it was a step in the right direction.

"We need to get you some dry clothes too," she offered.

"I'm all right," replied Jared.

"Nonsense," said Sue. "You're shivering. I don't want you catching a cold on my account, and I'm sure I could find something that would fit you in the basement. Don't go away."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said as she practically skipped down the stairs.

Jared was cold and wet. Maybe some dry clothes would be a good idea. He stood shivering in the living room, waiting for this strange girl to return. Then he sat on the couch and began flipping through the old magazines, but soon grew bored. He looked for the remote control to turn on the television, but couldn't find it. Finally, after twenty minutes, he made his way to the basement door. Standing at the top of the steps, he called down, "Hey, did you find anything?"

The basement was dark; only the lightning outside provided any kind of light. It didn't look like a finished basement either. Jared listened at the top of the steps, but couldn't hear anyone. "Sue? Are you down here?" he called out, but received no response.

Carefully, Jared descended into the basement. "Hello, anybody there?"

As the lightning struck again, Jared glimpsed what looked like a human figure standing in the corner of the basement. "Sue?" He called out while approaching.

Jared caught sight of a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and pulled down on the small chain connected to it. The bulb was only about a thirty watt, and it produced very little light, but it was still enough to see by. Getting a better look at the figure in the corner, he could see it was Sue from her pink bathrobe and ponytail.

"You scared me there," said Jared.

She turned around slowly. Her eyes appeared bright red in the dim light. Hanging from her waist was the largest strap-on dildo he had seen in his life. Jared stumbled backward.

"Hello Jared, I've been waiting for you," said Sue her voice now coarse like sandpaper.

"Y-you were going to find something to fit me," stammered Jared.

"And so I have," said Sue, motioning to her dildo.

"No!" cried Jared, racing for the stairs, but she was on him before he took a couple of steps. She was supernaturally fast. When she caught him, she grabbed him and turned him to face her. She kissed him deeply on the lips and forced her tongue into his mouth. It felt cold and rough. As her mouth clamped on his, Jared could feel the breath being drawn from his lungs. He couldn't breathe and he was growing weaker and weaker. Soon he had passed out.


Jared came to slowly. He was dressed in clothes just like Sue had been wearing when he picked her up--pink poodle skirt, blouse, and a pink cardigan with pink pumps on his feet.

He could feel a bra strap digging into his shoulders, and knew that his makeover had gone all the way down to his underwear. His face was heavily made up and his hair had been put into a loose ponytail that was unmistakably feminine.

His ankles were bound to the back legs of a sturdy wooden chair. He was bent over the back of the chair, and his wrists were tightly bound to the front legs. He struggled, but got nowhere. He was bound fast.

Upstairs he heard a new record starting up on the player. The volume was much louder and would probably cover any screams he might make. He was pretty sure it was that same song he had heard coming from his car radio earlier. Judging by the light outside, he had not been unconscious for very long.

As he could hear the sound of Sue's heels on the wooden stairs, he pulled furiously on the ropes binding him, but to no use. "Hello little darling, I hope I didn't keep you too long?" called out Sue.

"What are you doing? I don't like this," complained Jared.

"Really? Aren't you the one who always wanted Nadine to be more sexually adventurous? Isn't this adventurous enough for you?"

"Oh God! This isn't what I meant!" protested Jared. "Wait, how do you know Nadine?"

"I know lots of things," chuckled Sue. She moved behind Jared. He could soon feel her smearing something cold on his ass.

"Oh God no! Keep that thing out of my ass!"

Even as Jared protested, Sue was lining him up. His hole was still tight, and the eighteen-inch strap-on was roughly the size and width of a forearm. For Jared, it felt like she was going right through him. He screamed out which only made her laugh. It was a shrill cackle that sent chills through him like a dentist's drill.

She kept up a steady rhythm as she rode him hard. He could feel her weight on his back, and he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. It wasn't warm like a person's breath should be. It felt like a cold November wind chilling his whole body.

Despite his struggles, she had no trouble pounding away steadily, driving the whole dildo deeper and deeper into his ass. Almost mercifully, Jared finally passed out from the pain. Even as he was losing consciousness, he could hear Sue laughing.


When Jared awoke, it was morning. He might have believed it was all a nightmare except he was still wearing the ridiculous old-fashioned feminine outfit. His poodle skirt had ridden up to his waist exposing his panties. He was lying in the backyard of a derelict and abandoned house. Could that have been where he was last night? It certainly had looked much different back then.

Climbing up to his feet, he suddenly became aware just how opened up he had been by the mysterious girl with the massive dildo. He wasn't even walking right anymore. The grass was moist and his heels sunk into the wet lawn. His car was gone so he had no real choice but to attempt to walk home - or at least to the town center, where he could try to get help.

Jared took one last look at the house. It didn't look anything like he remembered it from last night. Surely, he would have remembered if the front stairs were so torn up. He raced up them in the pouring rain after all.

It was just before seven in the morning by now, and it was kind of cold. His sheer silky stockings did little to shield Jared's legs from the cold autumn wind. Sue had led him down several old roads and even though Brookhaven wasn't very large, he felt thoroughly lost. He was pretty sure that walking west would eventually take him back to town.

He had only walked a few blocks when he heard a police car's siren behind him. He stopped and turned to look at the car, which was pulling over behind him. "Are you alright, miss?" asked the Officer - Colleen Tracy, according to her nametag - as she stepped out of the cruiser.

Jared stood there mute as Officer Tracy moved in for a closer look. "Sir, are you alright?"

"I think so," he replied reflexively.

"I stopped you because you looked like you were in distress. Are you getting back from a Halloween party?" Asked Officer Tracy.

"No, I was assaulted and dressed like this," he replied.

"Get in my car," she said. "We need to get you checked out for any injury. What happened?"

"It was a very attractive blonde woman. I can show you the house where I was assaulted."

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Officer Tracy.

"Why not?"

"Between you and me, I'm assuming that the house is old and abandoned."

"Well, yeah it is."

"And I assume that if we go there we won't find any evidence of a crime being committed there."

"I couldn't say."

"You picked this woman up last night. She was hitchhiking?"

He nodded.

"That's Pegging Sue," explained Officer Tracy. "She's been a local legend around here since the early 1960s. Unfortunately, we get two or three cases like yours every year, and one of them happens around Halloween. I guess that's you this year."

"Oh crap, she did say her name was Sue," replied Jared.

"I won't lie to you," said Officer Tracy, "I'll investigate, but I very much doubt we'll find anything. You've been the victim of unearthly events. You were assaulted by Pegging Sue."

"So that's it?"

"There's not much we can do about ghosts, spirit, and evil entities I'm afraid," replied Officer Tracy. "My advice would be to forget about it. If you can. If you want counseling, I can give you a number."

Jared nodded, but in his heart he knew that he would probably never be the same. How does one encounter a creature like that and ever forget about it?


Sex Toys and Doll Parts

by Sally Bend

Copyright 2017

“That’s right, you dirty old bastard. Give to that bitch. Give it to her hard.”

Brandon Chalmers sat in the darkness of his apartment, staring at the seventy-five-inch monitor above the window. For most people, its placement would make for an uncomfortable viewing angle, but his chair reclined just as well as it rolled. While he could have settled for a more traditional mounting on the ceiling, or even splurged on something embedded into the floor, the glare and the shadows would be all wrong.

No, part of the appeal in spying on his neighbors was the possibility of being caught, and the monitor’s glow was strategic. Were someone to pinpoint his window out of the hundreds in the building, the only thing better illuminated than him would be the electronic telescope that dominated the window. Using the magnetic remote attached to his chair, he could use that telescope to sweep the windows of the condos and office complexes that dominated the skyline.

It had taken the better part of an hour tonight to find someone worth watching tonight, but the office buildings almost always paid off. At home, people liked to close the curtains and turn out the lights when they were intimate, but affairs in the office came fully exposed, warts and all. Usually, it was sexually frustrated coworkers or lecherous executives and their underlings, but tonight’s entertainment screamed cheap hooker . . . which was a shame.

Hookers tended to be quick, clean, and efficient. Merely watching couples fuck had gotten old long ago. He needed something kinky, something nasty, something more. Messy facial cumshots . . . those were worth recording for later. Open mouths, gagging on a surprise load of sperm . . . they were keepers too. Cum-stained blouses were a special treat, and the sight of a used condom bouncing off blushing cheeks was amazing, but a boring old support bra dripping with piss was hard to beat.

“What? That’s it? You’re fucking done fucking already?”

The old man on the screen zipped up his slacks while the aging hooker dabbed at her thin lips with a crusty tissue. There had been no explosion, no crescendo, nothing to announce a climax, just an end. Another boring end, another wasted night of filming.

With a frustrated sigh, Brandon stopped recording and tagged the file before it uploaded to the cloud. He turned off the equipment, which triggered the lamps to come on as programmed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, but his left hand was already manipulating the controls, turning his chair and wheeling it across the room to his desk.

Paralyzed from the waist down since before he could speak, he was incapable of obtaining any kind of sexual release from his erotic voyeurism, but intellectual masturbation still had its emotional rewards. Actually, that was a load of shit. It just left him feeling angry and frustrated, but there was a power in being a voyeur that provided some measure of fulfillment. Trapped in his chair he might be, but he owned other people’s private intimacies, and he knew he was a witness to secrets that their families would never suspect.

As the smaller, twenty-seven-inch monitor came to life, it was with the garish pink-and-purple hues of the /r/debbiesdollhouse/ subreddit. The Dollhouse itself was a notorious strip club located just outside town, on a lonely stretch of Hwy 20 that bordered two communities, yet which belonged to neither. It was hardly a lawless place, not with the kind of high-tech security they employed, but it was somewhere neither town’s police force seemed anxious to claim.

What intrigued Brandon about it, however, were the rumors of dancers who went missing for months on end, only to return . . . changed. There were all sorts of crazy theories about drugs, mind control, blackmail, and more, but it was the craziest stories of them all that intrigued him.

A user by the name of RubberRod had long been speculating that these girls were being replaced with robots, but it was LatexLarry who had recently begun spreading the wild rumor that they weren’t being replaced, but turned into some sort of living sex dolls. He claimed they were the perfect whores, able and willing to go all night, and able to take the kind of abuse that would break a normal woman. He claimed they didn’t need to eat, drink or sleep, and seemed to enjoy being used.

As kinky as that was, however, it was an offhand comment about Emma, the E-Cup Empress, that had become his obsession. According to LatexLarry, she had been beaten to the edge of death by one of the strung-out bikers who provided security to the club. The cell phone photos he’d posted online showed a woman whose beauty had been destroyed. Her jaw, nose, and cheekbone had been clearly shattered, and her arms were impossibly twisted, with an extra bend in the left forearm where it had clearly been snapped in two.

On top of all that, LatexLarry claimed her back had been snapped as well, leaving her just as paralyzed and useless as Brandon. And yet, just two months later, Emma had been back on stage, moving like a stripper half her age, and looking perfectly beautiful, with nary a scratch or blemish to mar her flesh. It was too good to be true, a dream he couldn’t afford to indulge, but it kept nagging at the back of his head, incessantly asking the question, “What if? What if? What if? What if? What if?”

The only thing that kept him from dismissing the claims out of hand was the fact that his system kept pinging him with low-level security alerts every time he logged onto the subreddit. Their kinky little group was being watched and, as with the window and the telescope, the ever-present threat of being caught red-handed excited him more than any act of carnal perversion.

Tonight, though, his LatexLarry bookmark returned a cartoon of a sad robot, along with the words

page not found

the page you requested does not exist

Had somebody gotten to LatexLarry, or was he just another prankster who had given up on the game? He quickly navigated over to RubberRod’s profile, but that was missing as well.

Suddenly, the game had just gotten a lot more interesting. LatexLarry was a relative newbie, online only to talk about The Dollhouse, but RubberRod had years of history behind his profile, along with regular contributions to dozens of subreddits. One disappearance was curious, but two was downright incriminating.

“What the?

He barely had time to notice the shadow flicker across his monitor before the needle stabbed into his neck. As his head lolled back in the chair, he looked up into the glassy eyes of a smiling blonde bimbo with perfect, flawless, plastic-like skin.

He tried to smile back, but that’s when it all went dark.


“Good evening, Mr. Chalmers. For someone with such an intense fascination for our little club, I do believe this is the first time you have been inside our doors. Welcome to The Dollhouse.”

After what seemed like hours in a dark room, cold and alone, Brandon cringed at the sudden explosion of fluorescent light. Through watery eyes, he watched a seven-foot, three-hundred-pound monstrosity of a man take a seat before him, his silhouette dwarfing the antique desk between them. By the time his eyes adjusted to the scene, the other man was blowing a cloud of cigar smoke in his face, blurring his vision and discomfiting him all over again.

“Now, you have a choice here, Mr. Chalmers. You can cooperate and win yourself a quick, relatively painless departure from this mortal coil, or you can be a stubborn little shit and suffer until you are begging for the pain to cease.” Another cloud of grey smoke streamed out from beneath a black mustache, curling up and over his face, until it looked like spectral horns growing out of his bald head.

Brandon shuddered at the image. Sometimes he regretted that so much of life was filtered through his imagination.

“Just tell us what you know, and I will personally vouch for your peaceful demise.”

“No.” The answer surprised even Brandon, but he didn’t let the moment fade. When all you had was words, it was important to press every advantage. “No, that’s not how this is going to work.”

The big ape smirked around his cigar. “Really, Mr. Chalmers? Please, do tell me more.”

“I will tell you everything I know. I will tell you how I learned it, and I will tell you what I’ve done with it. I will share with you every failsafe I’ve built into my system, and give you the power to stop those disclosures before they happen.” He took a break. He licked his lips. “I will disclose every source, and share every email, IP, and physical address I’ve recorded. I will give you everything, if you promise to do one thing for me.”

“You’ve surprised me, Mr. Chalmers.” Another cloud of smoke leaked from the hair of his nostrils. “I am momentarily amused, so I will temporarily indulge your flight of fancy. What, pray tell, is the one thing I can do for you?”

Brandon flashed back to the perfect, flawless, plastic-like skin of the bimbo who captured him. He had never met the woman in the flesh, but nobody else in the world could have looked like that. He was certain it had been Emma. “Fix me,” he growled.” He waved his hands up and down, tracing the shape of his crooked hips, twisted legs, and clubbed feet. “Do for me what you did for Emma.” He leaned forward in the chair. “Fix me, and I tell you everything you want to know.”

The other man laughed, loud and long. It was a deep laugh, straight from the belly, that seemed to echo off the walls of the room. “Do you have any idea what you are asking, Mr. Chalmers?” The laughter evaporated under cold, steel-blue eyes. “One way or another, you will tell me what I want to know. I hardly need promise you anything.”

“Please.” He leaned even further, until the chair threatened to topple on its wheels. “I want this. I need this. It is all I have thought about for the past few months.” He pressed his hands together and rested them on the edge of the desk. “Please. I know you can do it. I know you have the technology. Make me like your girls. Make me like Emma, and I will do anything.”

The other man paused, as if he were giving the request serious thought. “You do realize that my dolls belong to me? That they are forever indebted to The Dollhouse? That they spend the rest of their lives paying for their treatments?” Now it was his turn to lean forward. One meaty palm covered Brandon’s clenched fists - with room to spare. “Be very careful of such open-ended promises, Mr. Chalmers.”

“I understand, and my promise still stands.” It took every ounce of his will not to pull his hands back. “I’m a smart guy, a genius hacker, a surveillance expert, and more. Put me to work, and I will dedicate myself to making The Dollhouse thrive.”

“Anything, Mr. Chalmers?” That meaty hand felt like a steel vice as it squeezed. “Even if that means whoring yourself out to customers for the rest of your, let’s be honest, unnaturally long life?”

Now it was Brandon’s turn to pause. That wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind, but the idea had its appeal. He’d gone his entire life without so much as an erection. At an age when most men he knew were married with as many kids as ex-wives, he was still a frustrated virgin. The more he thought about it, the more he found himself warming up to the idea of becoming an enhanced gigolo. The novelty alone would keep him entertained for years.

He just hoped they . . . well, enhanced him where it mattered. The idea of having a massive, erect, cum-spewing cock between his legs was incredibly empowering.

He nodded. “Anything, sir.”

The other man’s smile was unnerving, but it was the increasingly maniacal edge to his laughter that gave Brandon pause.

Consumed by thoughts of feeling . . . of walking . . . of being normal . . . he forced himself to chuckle along.


“Like, welcome to the secret Dollhouse! We are going to have so much fun!” The blonde bimbo bounced around the room on her three-inch stiletto heels. Beneath her white lab smock, she wore matching white lingerie, complete with stockings, garter belt, panties, and bra. She was a vision in white satin and lace.

“Hi.” Brandon blushed. He would have been hard, if only his body were capable of it. “Um, what is this goop you’ve got me lying in?” He was lying naked in a sleek white pod, surrounded by a blue-green gel that glowed and pulsed as it lapped against his flesh.

She giggled as she fiddled with the tablet attached to the pod’s side. “It is, like, so warm. Like a great big hug, and it smells like cotton candy!”

He smiled. Her bimbo glee was infectious. “Yeah, I figured that out for myself, but what is it?”

“She doesn’t know. I don’t know. You don’t need to know.”

Brandon turned his head towards the new voice. He watched as a menacing, black-clad dominatrix strode into his field of view. Her black leather boots stopped at mid-thigh, giving way to ivory flesh and a naked pussy that glistened with dampness. A black leather corset gave her a waspish waist, with its half-cups lifting and thrusting out her generous breasts. A black, studded collar completed the ensemble.

“He is, like, just curious!” The blonde finished with the tablet and stepped back from the pod.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” The dominatrix hovered over him, an odd mask-like contraption in her hands. “You’re not a cat, are you?” She didn’t wait for an introduction. She leaned in and began fixing the contraption in place.

Within moments, Brandon found himself adorned with goggles, a breathing mask, and tiny earbuds. Before he could begin to wonder what was coming next, he heard the pod swing closed and seal itself shut with a soft hiss. A gentle lapping sound was the only warning he had of more blue-green gel pouring in, the level rising higher and higher until he felt it completely cover his chest. He started to panic, sure he was about to be suffocated. Claustrophobia got the best of him, and he began pressing against the walls, desperate to break the seal.

“Stop fighting.” The dominatrix’s stern voice came to him through the earbuds, sounding only slightly distorted by the gel surrounding his ears. “You are perfectly safe. Breathe through your mask and relax. Think you can manage something as simple as that?”

He forced himself to do as she instructed. Once he realized he could breathe through the mask without inhaling the gel, the panic began to subside. It felt weird to be so completely immersed in it, especially with the way it made his flesh tingle, but it also felt comfortably erotic, like . . . well, like a great big hug.

“You are going to be here for, like, a really super long while, but it will seem like it is over in a jiffy!” That was the blonde bimbo coming through the buds now. “All you need to do is, like, watch and listen.” As she said that, the goggles came to life with the image of a naked woman sitting spread-eagled in a wheelchair - his wheelchair, in fact - playing with her pussy.

Hmm. That was a nice touch.

That image was quickly replaced by a glimpse of a woman choking on a massive cock, a flash so quick it hardly had time to register on his brain before a pair of smiling red lips flashed before his eyes just as quickly, after which the woman in the wheelchair returned. The transition made him feel a little dizzy, but good at the same time.

The dominatrix was saying something to him now, but her words were lost in a flood of images.

A woman straddling a man’s cock.

A trio of cocks exploding all over a woman’s face.

A kneeling woman with cocks sliding into her pussy and her ass at the same time.

A woman pressing her breasts together as a cock fucked the valley between them.

And more.

So much more.

In between each was the flash of those smiling red lips, followed by a lingering glimpse of the woman masturbating in his wheelchair.

He couldn’t quite make out the words being whispered into his ears, but as he lost himself to the flood of images, imagining that it was his cock driving into their holes, he found himself feeling curious about what they felt on the other end. It was probably natural, designed to make him a more thoughtful, considerate lover, but as he felt the first stirrings of life between his legs, he stopped thinking altogether.


“Welcome back to reality.” As the lid of the pod swung open, Brandon saw why the greeting had sounded so odd. Staring down at him were twin girls, the one on the left was dressed as a cute schoolgirl in glasses, and the one on the right a cheerleader in pigtails.

“You need to get up and moving.” They spoke as one, their voices sounding creepily robotic in their perfect unison. The cheerleader’s voice seemed slightly higher pitched, and the schoolgirl’s a little more clipped in her pronunciation, but they sounded made for one another.

Which, he realized, they probably were.

“We are aware that you have never walked before, so we are here to assist.” They reached down, each grabbed an arm, and pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. He wobbled back and forth in their arms. “You will want to stand for a moment and let your body find its balance.”

Holy shit. He was standing. He was standing on his own two legs. He could feel the warmth of the gel around his feet, and the cool air on his legs. He could feel his muscles twitching and jumping with every tiny movement. He could feel his toes flexing and relaxing with every minute shift in balance.

He could feel!

Brandon tried to say something, but realized that he was unable to speak. He reached up to remove the mask he assumed must still be covering his face, and found instead a smooth stretch of flesh where his mouth should have been. With trembling hands, he reached up to find the same with his nose.

Even as he began to panic, the two girls turned him to face a mirror at the foot of the pod. What he saw was, basically, a sexless, naked doll. He was perfect, unblemished, plastic skin from head to toe, with nary a cock, a belly button, a nipple, a mouth, or a nostril to be seen. His hands scrambled down his body, frantically looking for things that weren’t there, but all he felt was smooth, slippery, plastic-like skin.

“You are an unfinished blank,” the twins chanted. “The dollification process is not yet complete.”

Unable to speak, he frantically waved his hands up and down as he looked to them for answers.

“Your internal damage has been fixed. That was the purpose of your treatment.” They pulled him forward and, to his surprise, his body took steps in their direction. “We must confirm you are functionally flawless before the feature process can be initiated.”

He clung to that promise, trusting that there was more to come, and allowed himself to just enjoy the novelty of movement. It felt so odd to have so many muscles moving and tensing, so many nerves sliding against each other all at once. It seemed like the simple act of taking a step should be exhausting, with everything that went into making it happen. The sensation of his naked feet upon the floor felt even stranger, making him aware for the first time in his life of how oddly shaped human feet were for their purpose.

Brandon could feel each toe as it made contact with the floor. He could feel the ball of his heel roll with each step. He felt the arch of his foot flex with every movement. He had always thought of feet like shoes, flat surfaces moving across flat surfaces, but the complexity of the human foot astounded him.

The very thought was as laughable as it was miraculous.

By the time the twins had led him twice around the room, he felt mentally exhausted from tracking so many sensations, but physically he was just getting warmed up. Having found his balance, he tried a few small jumps, and was delighted simply not to fall over.

“We are satisfied.” The girls didn’t just speak as one, they nodded as one too. “You are functional.”

Brandon nodded his agreement. There wasn’t much else he could do.

“You will now re-enter the pod.”

He looked down to find that the pod had been drained while he was walking, and then refilled with a new gel, one that was fluorescent pink and smelling of cherry licorice. As much as he wanted to explore his newfound freedom of movement, it had been a mentally exhausting half hour, and he was looking forward to being finished.

It felt cold to the touch when he dipped a finger in, but it also tingled with the promise of life. With the girls’ help, he stepped up into the pod and, for the first time in his life, tried to master the complex maneuver of lying down. As he adjusted arms and legs at the same time, shifted his hips, and wiggled his feet, he marveled again at what a complex piece of machinery the human body was, and just how most people took it for granted.

When the girls began closing the lid, he frantically pointed to his face, but they shook their heads in perfect synchronicity. “You no longer need the mask. It would interfere with your features.”

With that, the seal of the lid hissed around him, leaving him with only the pink glow of the gel for comfort. It took everything he had to lay down and relax, and a little bit more not to panic when the level of the gel so quickly climbed up to cover his face.

That was when he realized what else his body lacked – eyelids.

The feeling of the pink gel coating his eyes was almost maddening at first, but the electric tingling soon gave way to something more soothing. Similarly, the gel within his ears felt odd at first, making him want to shake his head to get it out, but it soon became a source of comfort. He felt sheltered in its damp, tingling embrace.

He was so preoccupied with the physical sensations of the pod that he wasn’t immediately aware that the visual and auditory stimulation had returned . . . except it was deeper than that, more intense. Somehow, the sound and images were being transmitted directly to his brain, carried – or so he imagined – through the gel.

This time, the girl in the wheelchair was gone, and the flood of images was completely different.

A man stroking his hard cock, a drop of precum glistening at the tip.

A pair of men standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they jerked off into space.

Massive spurts of cum, splashing past him.

A man’s face grimacing with animal lust as it swam and out of his field of view.

A pair of hairy balls bouncing before him, as the shaft of a cock swayed behind them.

Twin arcs of cum shooting right for him, as if they were exploding onto his face.

And far more.

Like before, he couldn’t quite make out the words being whispered into his ears, but as he thrilled to the stimulation, anxiously awaiting the moment where he could take the place of these strange men, he wondered about the curious point-of-view. Like the first flood, it was probably natural, designed to make him hyper-aware of the power of his own masculinity, but as he felt the first new stirrings of life across his body, he stopped thinking altogether.


“Like, OMG and all that, you are so pretty!”

Brandon looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of the same blonde bimbo who had first introduced him to the transformation pods. She was dressed less as a scientist and more as a nurse today, but still with the perfectly matched white lingerie beneath her loosely buttoned coat. Her stiletto heels clicked-and-clacked loudly against the tile floor as she fiddled with the pod.

Rather than help him up, she walked around the pod, manipulating his body as she went. He could feel it all, but seemed powerless to move without her assistance. It was a decidedly odd experience, but his brain was still too fuzzy to really question what it all meant.

“Oh, that looks so perfect in your dainty little hand!” He tried to process that comment as he felt his right hand being closed around something cylindrical. “Now, like, just hold your hand like that.” He felt the fingers of his other hand being pressed together and curled slightly, as if he was cupping something. “Oh, that could be a fun ride!”

The coolness between his legs struck him as strange when she spread them slightly, but it was the shocking sensation of her massaging his swollen chest and pinching his nipples that really began jarring him back to reality. He tried to look down, to see what was happening, but he couldn’t move his head.

“Now, hold like really super still, for just a moment.” When she laughed, her giggle was so contagious, he felt himself wanting to join in, despite the situation. Even as he realized he still couldn’t speak, he felt her hands shape his lips into an ‘O’ shape before she stepped back out of view. “Say, I love cock, sweetie!”

A hot flash of light exploded from above, leaving him stunned. A feeling of warm happiness followed.

When his eyes adjusted, he found the handsome, muscular hunk from The Dollhouse office standing where the adorable little nurse had been just moments ago.

“Congratulations, Mr. Chalmers.” Although it wasn’t lit, he was chewing on the tip of a fat cigar. “Your procedure started out as a novelty, but I do believe your commitment to the cause has uncovered a whole new line of business.” One massive hand reached down and turned his head to the side, allowing him a better view. “Yes, it appears your success will prove to be even more lucrative than we had anticipated.”

He felt like he should be asking a ton of questions, as if something wasn’t quite what he had expected, but it didn’t seem important. Instead, he simply watched, helpless and content, as the other man removed his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Since you are the first true doll to enter service The Dollhouse, I do need to, shall we say, sample the wares to ensure that you perform as advertised.”

Brandon felt his nipples grow hard at the sight, even as a strange new sensation of warmth began flowing from between his legs. He couldn’t quite wrap his pretty little head around what was happening, but that was okay.

The towering mass of chiseled masculinity beside him laughed. “Oh, where are my manners. You haven’t even had a chance to appreciate your transformation.”

For a moment, nothing happened, but then a series of glass panels began sliding into place above him, turning much of the ceiling into a giant mirror. With the nervous feeling of butterflies in his tummy, Brandon stared into the shiny, glassy blue eyes of a red-haired beauty with glorious, perfectly formed breasts, wide hips, and impossibly long legs. There wasn’t an ounce of hair anywhere on her body, and her skin had the unblemished shine of plastic.

Instinctively, he knew it was him, but he didn’t really make the connection until he saw the man’s hand reach down to caress one of the doll’s legs . . . and felt the touch at the same time. It was such a struggle for his tiny little brain, he was almost afraid he’d burn out his batteries, but he very quickly began to pair appreciation of the visual with the pleasure of the physical.

“Yours is the most perfect skin our team has yet to develop. It feels almost life-like, and it transmits your body heat rather effectively.” The man pinched a section of belly flesh, and it immediately snapped back into place. “It is entirely flexible, allowing a freedom of movement that is truly inhuman, yet it prevents any autonomy of action.” He picked up one of Brandon’s arms and turned the wrist.

It was when he saw the erect penis sliding through the closed grip of his hand that he truly made the connection. He was a perfect little doll, and this man wanted to play with him. A part of him felt like he should be clenching that hand and stroking the cock, but he knew that was not his purpose. Men had girls to do stuff for them – dolls were what they did stuff to!

“Mmm, the pleasure is entirely acceptable.” The man was smiling as he thrust gently into Brandon’s hand. “We will see if the other measurements are accurate, but it does appear as if the molding process worked as intended.”

He watched as the man withdrew his cock, and felt a deep sorrow that his hand had not made it cum. That sorrow quickly turned to delight, however, as the man knelt over him with that cock just inches from the perfect ‘O’ of his lips. The touch of its spongy head against his top lip was absolutely electric as it began sliding inside. As if the penetration triggered something, he found that while he couldn’t close his mouth, he could move his tongue. He instinctively began licking his way around the shaft, pressing his tongue against it to create more friction.

“That is an adequate fit. I might have them adjust you tighter next time I avail myself of your services.”

Slowly, he began withdrawing his cock, and Brandon’s tongue chased it, lapping up precum as it went. He followed it as far as his lips, frantically trying to coax it back inside, but the moment the cockhead slipped free, his tongue stopped where it was. He had failed to make it cum again.

But the tongue tip sticking out between his lips was super cute!

The man reached in to pinch it. “And the tongue control is exactly as I instructed. Really, I could not have asked for a smoother engagement.”

Brandon watched the man’s backside in the mirror, even as he felt the coarseness of hairy pubes tickle their way down his flesh. He couldn’t see what was happening, and couldn’t very well look down to watch, but he hoped what was coming next was what he thought was coming next.

And then, just like that, the man’s cock was inside him.

It was glorious! It was as if every one of his secret buttons has been pressed at once. As the man fell against him, grinding his hairy chest against Brandon’s breasts, and thrusting his massive cock into Brandon’s tight, wet pussy, he felt a joy like he had never imagined. So much of him was being played with at the same time, and his owner seemed happy. He was a good doll! He was a useful doll! He was a doll that would get lots of play time!

“Fuck. That might be a little too tight, but the lubrication is remarkable.” The man kept thrusting, hard and deep, until Brandon felt a pair of hairy balls bouncing against the lips of his labia. “As much as I would love to empty myself into such a perfect pocket, I am afraid we have one last feature to finish.”

As if on cue, Brandon saw all four of the women who’d worked on his transformation enter into the frame of the mirror. The pretty nurse waved as she came to stand next to the pod controls, while the scary, beautiful Mistress pressed her long, black-tipped fingers tightly against either side of his head. The cute cheerleader knelt to press her lips against his right ear, while the adorable schoolgirl did the same with his left.

“We are, like, so ready on the controls.” The nurse beamed.

“I have the doll firmly in hand,” the Mistress confirmed.

Brandon felt sorrow for the third time that day, deeper and far more painful than the first two times combined, as the man withdrew his cock without having cum into his pussy. He knew he was a good doll, but maybe he was broken.

“I have been waiting almost a year for this moment.” The man climbed up onto the table, with both hands stroking his cock. “Prepare him, ladies.”

With a light, feathery kiss, the cheerleader whispered, “Wake up, Brandon Chalmers.”

It was like someone had flipped a switch. Suddenly, Brandon was Brandon again. Fuck this doll business! Jesus Christ, that bastard had double-crossed him. He’d turned him into a fucking sex doll, and then . . . and then . . . fucked him! This was obscene. This was intolerable. This was unforgivable. He was just about to start screaming obscenities when the first shot of cum erupted to splash against his face.

Oh, fuck, he could feel it, hot and slimly against his cheek. He wanted to turn away, but he knew it was useless. They’d fucked up his body so badly, all he could do anymore was feel!

Another spurt followed, even bigger than the first, crisscrossing the other cheek. It felt heavy and thick, the disgusting evidence of how roughly he’d been abused. A third spurt hit him directly in the eye, but he couldn’t even blink, much less jerk his head away. As the bastard’s cock came for him, he could see the slit tensing and trembling with yet another spurt, only this time the cockhead landed on his lips.

No, no, no! Anything but that! Brandon felt his tongue immediately begin lapping at the slit, bathing itself in each fresh ejaculation. A man was coming in his mouth, and his traitorous tongue was helping it happen! He could feel cum on his face. He could feel cum in his mouth. He could fucking taste cum all over!

As the cockhead pulled away, his tongue frantically chased it, continuing to lick and flick even as the space between the cock and his lips grew. The sudden realization dawned on him that he could move. He was in full control of his new body.

And yet he had laid there and allowed this bastard to glaze him with cum!

“Hold, Brandon Chalmers.” The schoolgirl’s voice filled him with a terror he had never before imagined possible. As quickly as that, before he could even think about moving, he was a helpless doll once again.

A helpless, cum-covered doll.

“Ladies, if you would please step away, it is time for our newest toy’s features to be finalized.”

Brandon watched as, one by one, the girls all stepped out of the mirror’s view. Almost immediately, another hot flash of light exploded from above, leaving him once again immobile.

As for the slimy bastard who ran the place, he sat down on Brandon’s stomach and began toying with Brandon’s tits. “I could have simply allowed you to live out your life in submissive, doll-like contentment, but I do not appreciate being threatened.” He leaned in and bit down hard on the left nipple.

Oh, fuck, that hurt!

“I could have made you like the others, a walking, talking, fully functional sex doll, but I really do not appreciate being misled.” He moved his head over and bit down on the other nipple.

Ow! The pain was too much.

“In fact, I had originally considered adding a Ken to my box of Barbie’s, but I really, really do not appreciate you disrespecting my mother. When I found your video of her thanking the health inspector for another pass of his blind eye, I was angry, but when I saw that you had tagged her as a hooker, that was the moment at which I became livid.”

Brandon felt the bastard’s hands reach up to trace the lines of glistening cum permanently preserved on his doll-like face. Inside, he railed against the touch, even as he laid there and suffered it. It wasn’t enough that he had to be some bimbo sex-doll, but the added degradation of being a visibly used bimbo sex-doll was too much.

“I knew then that I would make you pay for your disrespect, but it took me a number of months before I settled on your costume. Fortunately, your love of facials was very well documented.”

The bastard sat up and smiled.

“Welcome to The Dollhouse, Jaycee.”

Her brain snapped with a satisfying jolt.

Duh. Jaycee. That was totally right! What a silly doll she had been. Brandon was a boy’s name, and she totally was not a boy.

No, she was J.C. of The Dollhouse.

The one-and-only Jism Cumdump.

She was the hungriest, sloppiest doll in the whole Dollhouse, and she loved it.

The only question on her mind was who would play with her next?


Futa Witch Gender Swaps the Cheater

by Reed James

Copyright 2017

I knew it was a mistake to cheat on a witch. I knew it, and I still did it anyway. What was I thinking?

Well, I knew what I was thinking: Usoko was hot and horny and ready to fuck. I couldn't help myself. The Japanese chick, slender and petite, bewitched me. She wore these jeans hugging her ass, her smile flirty, her almond-shaped eyes exotic. When she pressed against me, caressing my chest with delicate fingers, whispering in my ear, I was lost.

I had to enjoy her. And Clarisse was out of town. Or so I thought.

So imagine my surprise when, just as Usoko and I both came, her hot pussy milking the last drops of cum out of my dick, my girlfriend burst into the bedroom of our apartment. Her eyes blazed with dark anger, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, scarlet raging across her normally pale cheeks.

“Clarisse!” I exclaimed, my mind still fogged by the shuddering ecstasy of my orgasm. I rolled off Usoko, my dick flopping out of her pussy, smacking wetly against my stomach. “It's not what you think.”

“It's not?” she asked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. She walked forward, her heeled boots putting a dangerous sway to her hips. “Then what is it, Chris?”

“I should go,” Usoko said, rising with lithe grace, her dusky-olive body flushed, my cum running out of her pussy and matting her thick, black bush. “It was fun.”

I winced. “It wasn't.”

“Fucking her wasn't fun?” Clarisse asked, her voice ice despite the heat of her anger simmering through her body. “I didn't hear you scream, 'Oh, my god, what a pussy!' at the top of your lungs right before you spurted into her.”

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