Playing My Part

Sorry about missing last week gals. I wish I had a good reason for the absence, but honestly just lost track of time. Hopefully you like this one though! I got the GIF from Syd forever ago, but hadn't thought of anything for it until now. Anyway, sorry again, and I hope you enjoy!

 

“No, stop. I take it back, I’m not doing this,” I said as the crew strapped me into the flying rig for my first rehearsal. “Too bad, Jake,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes as she continued to work the straps on the harness. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to hang around every rehearsal, leering at Kelsey.” I open my mouth to refute the point, but then think better of it. I probably wasn’t as smooth as I’d like to have been in my appreciation of Kelsey. But it was just something about her. I just can’t think straight when I see her. Which is how she convinced me into this costume after she broke her ankle. The logical side of me never would’ve agreed to this. But Kelsey looked at me with those big, pleading eyes, and the next thing I know, I’m at the salon, getting my hair dyed blonde and styled like a Fairy Princess.

Once Kelsey left the theater, I could finally think again and tried to back out. But Olivia, Kelsey’s best friend who hates my guts, cut that train of thought short. “Oh hell no!” Olivia practically yelled. “Kelsey has been putting in hours of rehearsal time into this play. In fact, all of us have.” She thrusts a finger into my makeup covered face. “So if you think your perverted ass is gunna ruin it for all of us, too bad.” She shoved me onto the stage, and the crew started strapping me in as I begged them to just let me leave. “You think we’re excited about this?” One of them asked. “Kelsey’s great to work with, and now we’re stuck with her perverted stalker.” “I am not a stalker!” I replied, but it fell on deaf ears. “Just think about how sad Kelsey will be if we have to cancel the entire play because of her injury,” another said in response to my continued complaints. “Plus, you’d be going back on your word. I don’t think she’d be too happy with you if you did that.” That finally got me to shut up and just go along with everything. Olivia smirked and snickered. “And look on the bright side, you’re finally in her pants,” she said. “Though, really, it’s the theater’s fairy costume. But it’s the closest you’re gunna get, perv.”

At the next rehearsal, I was sad to not see Kelsey around. Apparently she had a doctor’s appointment. Though, when I heard what scene we’d be rehearsing, I was almost glad she wasn’t there. “I don’t really have to kiss him, do I?” I asked Olivia while staring at the towering form of the Prince. She shrugs. “Technically, no. But it would be much more authentic if you did. And Kelsey would think it’s pretty cool- you willing to kiss a man for the sake of the theater.” I know she’s manipulating me. And I really don’t wanna kiss this onyx mountain of a man across the stage from me. But the thought of making Kesley happy overwhelms the logical side of me. So I step out onto the stage and begin the scene. It comes surprisingly easy. I guess that’s the benefit of watching almost every rehearsal with an intent focus, even if this wasn’t my initial reasoning. Then comes the kiss. The Prince, played by Dominic, places his large hand on the side of my face, covering the entire side. He leans down and places his lips on mine. Then the bastard slips his tongue into my mouth, causing me to squirm. “Cut!” Olivia calls before dragging me off to the side.

“What the hell was that!?” Olivia asked me furiously. “He slipped his tongue in my mouth! How did you think I was gunna react!?” I responded, equally furiously, though my voice was still in the practiced higher pitch of the Fairy Princess. Olivia rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, grow up, Jake. We’re all adults here. This isn’t some high school theater class, it’s a community theater that takes itself seriously. And it’s not like you’ve never been kissed before.” I shuffled uncomfortably at that last comment and Olivia’s fury immediately turns to humor. “Oh my god, really!? That was your first kiss?” She practically laughs. “Shhh!” I shush her. “It’s not funny.” “I mean, it kinda is,” she replies. I can feel my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. “Listen,” I begin, “I’ve never kissed, so what. I mean, look at me, do I look like the kinda guy girls would wanna kiss? Even out of all of the makeup and the dress?” Olivia looks me over analytically and shrugs. “Maybe not, but clearly Dominic thinks you look like the kinda guy he wants to kiss.” The warmth in my cheeks grows. “He’s just acting,” I reply. “More than he’s done with Kelsey. They’ve never used tongue in rehearsal.” “R-really?” Olivia nods. “Oh. Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not actually a girl.” “And he knows that, and still kissed you,” Olivia responds. “Just something to think about. But either way, I need you to get used to it, cuz we only have a few more rehearsals to get everything perfect. Now get out there.” She slaps me on the butt as I turn and make my way back to the stage.

A couple weeks later, it was show time. My nerves were through the roof as I looked out at the crowd. “Wow, it’s really a packed house out there,” I said nervously. Dominic walks over and places a comforting hand on my back and begins to rub in circles. “Don’t worry, you’ve worked hard, Jake,” he says, giving me that charming smile I’ve grown to hate loving over the last couple weeks. I smile up at him shyly. “Thanks, Dom.” I take a few deep breaths as I hear my cue to come out onto the stage. I surprise myself with how easily the performance comes. Something about embodying a fairy princess seems to come naturally to me. As I exit the stage until my next scene, Olivia gives me an approving, if annoyed, nod as she gets the next person ready to go out. Dom places his large hand on my shoulder. “You did great,” he reassures. “Thanks,” I reply, taking a seat, more to rest my nerves than my body.

The rest of the play went by without a hitch. The next scene was the kissing scene. “You ready?” Olivia asks. “You go out in 3 minutes.” “My heart is pounding, but yea, I should be fine,” I reply. “Good, cuz we’re almost done. Don’t ruin this now, perv.” She walks away before I can respond. I hear Dominic’s deep voice call out the line that is my cue. I make my way out. I say my lines, looking Dom in the eyes as he professes his love for me. I know it’s just acting, but it makes my knees weak. Especially knowing what’s coming. I turn to the crowd for my line and look around. Then I notice a few familiar faces in the front row. Kelsey, no cast or crutches, which is weird. She shouldn’t be healed for another couple of weeks. And the last thing I see before Dom pulls me into our first, but not last, kiss of the night, is my sister. She’s sitting right next to Kelsey, recording everything.

 

Haunted House Tour, Epilogue: Jocelyn

Here is my part in the lovely Syd's Halloween series!!! Go check hers out!! And go check out Sammi's Epilogue on her DeviantArt in the next few days as well!!! I hope you guys all enjoy!!! And Happy Halloween!!!!

 https://www.deviantart.com/sammisass01

 

 

I was wandering down the street, unsure what to do. I’d never been free before. The only life I’d ever known was the Manor with Sammi and Mistress Sydney. Now that I am on my own, it felt… wrong. Uncomfortable. Like something was missing, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. “Are you ok, miss?” I heard a deep, velvety voice ask from behind me. I turned around to find the chest of a suit. I looked up to meet the eyes of a tall, dark stranger. Dark eyes I immediately got lost in. I stared into them, speechless and dumbfounded. He placed a big, strong hand on my shoulder, sending a pleasant shiver through my body. “Can I help you? Call someone, take you somewhere?” I shook my mind loose from his hypnotic handsomeness. “I, uh, I don’t have anywhere. Or anyone,” I replied, looking down sadly. The man put a finger under my chin, lifting my head to meet his eyes once more. “A pretty thing like you all alone? Not that’s just not right. I’ll have to fix that. What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asked, sending another pleasant spark through me. “I’m Jocelyn,” I replied, before being led off by him.

The man, whose name turned out to be Neal, led me back to his penthouse. He led me to the bathroom. “Go ahead and get cleaned up. There are towels in the closet for when you finish,” Neal told me before leaving me alone in the bathroom. I showered, taking my time to wash the chill of the night off. I grabbed a towel out of the closet, dried off, then wrapped it around myself. I stepped out into the living room to find Neal sitting on the couch watching football. He stood up once he saw me, walking over to me, causing my heart to pound. “Here,” his deep voice said as he holds out a shirt for me to take. “It’s one of mine, so it’ll be big on you. But I figured since you don’t have any of your own.” I nodded, taking the shirt. He turned around so I could change. I blushed at the gentlemanly gesture, but was also saddened he didn’t get to see my body. He ended up being right. The shirt was so baggy on me, it fit more like a dress than a shirt. But even more important is that it smelled like Neal’s cologne. And now I was encompassed by that scent, making me swoon constantly.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice soft and appreciative. “I wish there was a way to repay you. I have some money, but,” I look around the penthouse, “it doesn’t look like you need it.” Neal takes a step closer to me. “I’m sure we can figure something out. But maybe we should eat first. I could order something for us.” I perked up a bit at that. “Or, maybe I could cook for you?” Neal looked down at her curiously. “I don’t have much in the way of ingredients,” Neal began to reply, causing me to frown a bit. “But I could order you some ingredients. Whatever you need.” My smile came back, and I nodded enthusiastically. This felt right. Like it’s what I was made for. Serving this man is all I can think of, and the thought is one I love. “And while we wait, we could work up an appetite,” Neal says, smirking down at me as one of his big, strong hands comes up to caress my face. It’s somehow rough and yet gentle at the same time. Ok, so maybe there is another thing I can think of. Though, to be fair, I’ll still be serving Neal.

Neal carried me to his bedroom, my legs wrapped around him, our tongues intertwined. A part of me, in the back of my mind, registers the fact that he didn’t order the groceries. But I don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt what he plans to do to me. He throws me on the bed, looking down at me with a hungry smile that no meal I could cook up would satiate. I smile back up at him before leaning forward and undoing his pants, dropping them to his ankles. The bulge is so big and tight against his briefs, I’m surprised they aren’t torn. I pull them down and unleash his member, wrapping my hand around it. Well, as much as I can, which isn’t very. Without any hesitation, I hungrily take it into my mouth and start sucking, pumping with one hand while the other massages his massive, pendulous balls. I take him as far as I can. Which, again, isn’t very. Eventually I pull away, surprising even myself. But I look up at him, smirking as he wordlessly lifts me and turns me around to show me exactly what it means to serve him.

That was a year ago, but I remember it like it was last night. Probably because we pretty much recreated it last night. And practically every night in the last year. But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the sex isn’t the best part. Hmm, maybe I should tell that to Daddy later. He’ll want to prove me wrong. What was I saying? Oh right! The best part about this is just being with him in every way. It goes beyond the sex. I love him, and he loves me. And as I stand here, watching him eat the hot meal I have ready for him, just like every night he comes home, I can’t help but think about how lucky I am to have found him. To have found exactly where I need to be, and who I need to be with. The man who will take care of me, and who I can take care of in any way, and position, he needs. And I owe it all to Mistress Sydney. Maybe I should send her a present. I’m sure there are some competitors that Daddy would like out of the office.

Becky Used Hypnosis. It's Super Effective! (Request)

Before anyone tries to call me out, I'm aware Hypnosis can't be super effective. Don't yell out me please, I know my Pokemon😁Anyways, enjoy!!

This was a request, so, when you see this, I hope you like it!! I'm still taking requests if anyone is interested and has any GIFs and/or ideas they'd like to see! 

There will be a bonus cap from me on Saturday this week. It will be an epilogue to the story the lovely Syd is currently doing on her page, so go check that out!! And check out Sammi over on DeviantArt on Saturday as well, cuz she will also be doing an epilogue for that story. And just check them both out in general cuz they are amazing, inspiring, lovely individuals!!

“I feel good!” Becky smiled at the statement as she watched Doug give her a thumbs-up. It had been a long road to this point, but oh, was it worth it. Seeing this asshole being everything he hates. Part of her feels bad, right up until she remembers what a douchebag Doug used to be. Always spouting off hate about black people, trans people, gay people. Basically anybody who isn’t a straight, white man like he is. Or rather, was, before Becky finally had enough of her intolerant coworker. And since HR wouldn’t do anything, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

As much as she hated it, Becky’s plan started with flirting with Doug. She needed to take it slowly so she wouldn't raise suspicion. A few laughs at jokes she used to roll her eyes at, letting him look down her chest without comment or pulling away, and giggling whenever he made a creepy comment about her. All this annoyance and creepiness tolerated so it would be believable when she invited him back to her place. And, unsurprisingly, he agreed immediately while maintaining eye contact with her cleavage. That Saturday, Doug showed up to her apartment ready to get down to business. And that’s exactly what they did. At least, as far as he remembers. As soon as he stepped inside, Becky’s friend, Regina, easily put the simple-minded Doug in a hypnotic trance. “Alright, this asshole is all yours,” Regina said. “He’ll take any command you give him, no complaints. And he won’t remember a thing from this interaction. Unless you want him to, or give him false memories.” Becky smirked as she started giving him his “suggestions”.

That Monday, Doug came back to the office and was mostly the same. He made the same sexist jokes, flirted unabashedly, and stared at all the butts and boobs he could handle. But something felt off to him. Every time he said something derogatory, a pang of guilt flooded him. It was brief, but noticeable. “Maybe Becky rubbed off on me,” he thought to himself. Then he smirked. “After rubbing me off,” he continued mentally, as he recalled the planted memory from his encounter with Becky. As if he summoned her with his thoughts, Becky approached his desk. “Hey Doug, Saturday was fun,” she said in a sultry tone, smiling seductively. “Same time this weekend.” Doug felt almost compelled to agree, as if he had no choice. “I’ll be there.” And he was. He showed up, and as soon as he stepped through the door, he was back in that trance-like state, unprompted by anything other than his arrival. “Perfect,” Becky said as she guided him to her computer desk and placed a pair of headphones over his ears.

That’s how it went for months. The changes were slow, but evident as time passed. The derogatory jokes and comments became less frequent until they stopped altogether. He stopped getting his hair cut and started shaving. The lingering glances at the ladies in the office shifted from their assets to their accessories and clothing. And the best part? It was so gradual, it felt completely natural to him. Like he was finding himself. Even his fake memories of the time spent at Becky’s started to change in shape. They became less satisfying and more performative in his mind. Even one instance of him not being able to get up, despite it all being in his head. The other guys in the office, those who used to laugh at his ridiculous jokes uproariously, started to turn on him, especially when he came in wearing makeup for the first time.

“What is going on in here?” asked a deep, commanding, and angry voice. The group of guys surrounding Doug in the breakroom and laughing at his made-up face all turned to see their manager, Mr. Gearhardt, staring at them all angrily. “Uhh, nothing, sir,” one of the douches said nervously. “Yea,” another started, “we were just checking out our friend's new style, right, Dougy?” Mr. Gearhardt looked at Doug curiously, looking him over to make sure he was ok. He was barely recognizable from who he was a few months ago, both physically and in how he carried himself. Gone was the brash, arrogant man, and in his place stood a timid little thing who was shaking like he was in a blizzard. And to say he was a man seemed incorrect, given his long, silky hair, soft features, and pretty made-up face. “You all, get back to work,” Mr. Gearhardt ordered, and all the men started to make their way out. “Not you, Doug,” he called as Doug was inches from the door. He froze and turned. “I-is everything ok, sir?” Doug asked, his voice soft and gentle. Mr. Gearhardt walked over and placed a large, dark, and strong hand on Doug’s petite shoulder. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he suggested, his tone much softer than before, as he guided Doug toward his office.

“Wait, really!?” Becky asked. Doug shrugged as he applied his makeup. “Yea, I guess he was worried about my safety in the office with how those jerks were treating me today. Ugh, why did I ever hang out with those ignorant assholes?” It was a few hours after work. The talk with Mr. Gearhardt, Wayne, as he told Doug to call him, was to check in with Doug and make sure he was ok after his breakroom encounter. He told him the truth. About how he had been feeling out of place for months and wanted to try something new, and his old friends didn’t seem to accept his new self. So, Wayne offered him a place by his side in the company as his secretary/assistant. It came with a private office right next to his, as well as a pretty sizeable pay bump. “He said he had to fire his last assistant after she got caught making false claims about him coming on to her,” Doug supplied. “Oh yea,” Becky said, recalling that whole fiasco. “That was a mess. Didn’t his girlfriend leave him before it was proven the secretary was lying?” Doug nodded as he applied the last touches to his eyes, smiling as he thought about his new position at work.

“So what you’re saying is, this recently single, tall, dark, rich stud came in and offered you safety from your bullies in the form of being his personal assistant?” Becky asked with a smirk. “Mmm hmm,” Doug said, nodding as he looked over his makeup in the mirror. “And you agreed?” “Well, duh!” Doug replied. “It’s a totally great position! And I get to work really closely with Wayne!” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he said that last part. “And how do you feel about that level of… closeness?” Doug put the headband for his costume on and turned to her, giving her a thumbs up. “I feel good!” He said. “Actually, really good! I have for a few weeks now, ever since we stopped doing stuff. Well, trying to. Sorry again.” Becky smirked internally at his apology for failing to get it up for her anymore in his false memories of their Saturday meet-ups. “No worries, hun, you make a much better bestie anyway,” she reassured. “For me anyway. I think Mr. Gearhardt might think differently when he sees Sylvie show up for the work Halloween party. You may just get another promotion to sexretary.” Seeing Sylvie’s blush happily at the thought made Becky’s night. And soon, Wayne would make Sylvie’s night in the privacy of her new office. And, when Sylvie begged Wayne to finish on her face, Doug would be locked away for good, forever watching Sylvie live her best life, in his body.

Halloween Switch-Up

I'm baaaaack! Ya girl got her car situation figured out, so I should be back for a while at least! Hope you like this, and if you want something a little more on the magical side of Halloween, go check out the Halloween series Syd is doing (link to her blog on the side as always). It's great! And once she's done posting it, Sammi and I will be posting an epilogue on respective pages on the 31st! Thanks to everyone for being so understanding and all the kinds words while I was away and I'm glad to be back!

 

P.S. I haven't received any requests for Halloween or anything. That is still open anyone has anything they want to see me do, be it specific GIFs, just an actress I haven't done yet, or a full blown idea. Let me know in the comments below or email me at dospamfoxx@gmail.com 

 

 

Cap Text 

“Ugh, this bodysuit sucks!” Gwen complained. She was dressed up as Black Widow for this dumb Halloween party her friend Mason wanted to go to. It was a superhero theme, so he wore an unimpressive, lazy Iron Fist costume, while Gwen was stuck in a low-cut, form-fitting Black Widow outfit, complete with heels that made her feet scream just looking at them. That’s what she gets for letting Mason pick her outfit. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Mason replied, trying to placate her. “You look great!” She glared at him. “Yea, that’s cuz I actually put effort into this uncomfortable costume you picked,” she snapped back. “Unlike you, wearing a green sweatshirt and yellow bandana.” Mason raises his hands defensively. “Whoa, you said you didn’t want to pick a costume and told me to find you one. Sorry you don’t like it, but that’s on you.” She glared daggers at him, making him shrink back slightly. “M-maybe I went a bit overboard on yours compared to my own,” he squeaked out. “How about this: There’s another party next weekend. You can pick whatever costume you want for me. No complaints, no questions, I’ll wear it.” He holds out a hand. “Deal?” Gwen thinks it over for a moment. Then she gets an idea. “Deal.” She says, with a mischievous smirk, as she reaches out and shakes Mason’s hand.

“You can’t be serious!?” Mason shrieked as Gwen showed off the costume she picked out for him. “Ah ah ah,” Gwen replies in a semi-scolding tone. “You said no complaints or questions; you’d wear what I choose.” She smirks devilishly as she hands the black bodysuit to him. “And I chose the Black Widow costume you made me wear last week.” An expression of shock and bewilderment grows on Mason’s face as he takes the costume. “B-but this is a girl’s costume. It probably won’t even fit me,” he tries to rationalize. Gwen looks him up and down, then lets out a snort of a laugh. “No offense, Mason,” she begins, barely keeping her tone more comforting than mocking. “But you’re not exactly the most manly of men. It’ll fit fine. At least once we add a few… modifications to you.” Mason gulped as Gwen led him into her bedroom to get ready for the party.

Mason struggled to stay upright as he minced down the sidewalk toward the house, his legs already burning from the heels he barely got any time to practice in. Between his inexperience with them and the weight of the breast forms on his chest, it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen since they left Gwen’s. “God, these things are killing my back,” he complains. A strand of the red hair extensions is blown by the wind and gets stuck in his mouth as he speaks. “And this hair is so annoying. How do you deal with it?” Gwen just laughs and shrugs. “Welcome to womanhood, Maci. You’ll get used to it.” “Not likely,” Mason grumbles as they approach the house where the party is being held. “You ready?” Gwen asks Mason. “Do I really have a choice? You drove, and there is no way I’m walking back to yours in these death traps you call heels.” “Oh, lighten up! We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you won’t even notice the pain or discomfort,” Gwen reassures. “And if you try to lean into it, maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself.” Mason just rolls his eyes and follows her into the party.

Mason’s first stop once they entered the house was the drinks. He mixed himself a rum and Coke, heavy on the rum. He downed it before even leaving the table, so he made himself another one. “Damn, girl, take it easy,” Gwen said, mixing herself a drink as well. “We still have a long night of partying and drinking to do; no need to rush!” Mason takes a sip of his new drink before responding. “You said it yourself: the sooner I’m drunk, the sooner the discomfort goes away.” Gwen shrugs. “Fair enough, I suppose. Ooo, they got dart, let’s go see if anyone has next.” Gwen drags Mason along to the dartboard, queuing them up to play the winner.

The party went on without a hitch. Nobody seemed to suspect that the hottie in the Black Widow bodysuit was anything but just that: a hot woman. As much as that hurt his ego, it also made Mason’s nerves go down tremendously. The copious amounts of alcohol didn’t hurt either. Surprisingly, the drunker he got, the easier the heels were to manage. Without the constant pain and overthinking, he was actually starting to strut in them without any issue. That is, until he bumped into a large wall of a man in a caveman costume, spilling his drink all over him. “Oh, shit. Sorry, dude,” Mason slurred out. Looking up, he saw the towering figure of the man, looking down at him. The sheer size difference sent a shiver down Mason’s spine as he shrank back in fear of the man’s reaction. The man just looked down at him for a moment, then gave Mason the kindest smile he’d ever seen. “No problem, gorgeous,” his deep voice practically boomed. “It’s just a little spill. Here, let me get you a refill.” He reaches to grab the cup, intentionally lingering with his fingers on Mason’s. “U-uh, sure. T-thanks,” Mason’s manages to stammer out, his face almost as red as his hair as the towering man leads him to the drink station.

“So, what’s your name, Miss Widow?” Mason stares at this dark, imposing mountain of a man, not even registering the question. Something about him is just so… alluring. “You good?” He asks, snapping Mason out of his stupor. “Hmm? Yea, yes. I’m great. My name’s Mas… Maci.” The man smiles down at Maci. “Nice to meet you, Maci. I’m Darrell.” He hands Mason the drink. “Would you want to hit the dance floor with me, Maci?” Mason just stares up at him and nods, allowing his dainty hand to be taken into his much larger mitt as Darrell drags him onto the dance floor. They dance for a good while, but eventually Darrell leads Maci somewhere a little quieter so they can talk. This mostly consists of Darrell talking while Maci stares up at him with drunken curiosity, occasionally nodding at something he said, but she doesn’t register. After a couple minutes of this, Darrell realizes she hasn’t said anything and stops talking. “Is everything alright?” He asks, concern evident in his deep, sexy voice. “What? Oh, yeah, yeah. You're just fine,” Maci replies. Then her tone shifts into something a bit more sultry and suggestive. “Very fine.” In her drunken and confused state, Maci surprises herself as she decides to go for it and stands to meet his lips, barely reaching them, despite the hells and Darrell being seated. After a few passionate moments, they pull apart. “Damn, girl, beat me to it. I’d been planning on making my move since I saw you.” Maci blushes at his words as Darrell’s large, dark hand comes up to cup the side of her face. “So I’ll at least make the second one,” he says as he kisses her again, this time picking her up and taking her to one of the bedrooms for a night, she won’t soon forget.

No cap, again :(

Another week and no cap. I'm really sorry. I wrecked my car over the weekend. I am fine, but it's been a big headache dealing with it, both financially and emotionally/mentally. I'm hoping to get back to cappin' again this week if I have time. This no car thing is really stressing me out though, so we'll see. Again, I'm so sorry.

No cap :(

I'm sorry y'all, but I've been sick for the better part of a week and between that and still having to work, I wasn't feeling up to writing this weekend. So no new cap this week. I'm really sorry to disappoint my 5 fans 😅 Hope y'all understand and I'll be back next week. And I'm still accepting requests! You can email me at dospamfoxx@gmail.com or put it below! 🧡

With Friends Like This

 

At the time I am writing and scheduling this cap, I am closing in on 50,000 blog views!! Like, less than 100 away!! So, by the time this up tomorrow morning, I might have past that milestone! As a little celebration, I want to open up requests for Halloween! I have a few ideas, but nothing much so if you want to comment below an idea or someone you want capped, let me know. You can also email me at dospamfoxx@gmail.com with any request or specific GIFs you'd like. I can't promise I will get to each and every one of them just depending on how things go. But I will definitely try. Feel free to requests none Halloween caps if you'd like, but Halloween ones will probably be what I would focus on. Thank you all so much, I'm glad people enjoy my caps and I hope you enjoy this one as well! And Happy Spooky Season!

 

 

“You think I’m pretty?” I ask as I turn and slowly walk over to Jerome. Jerome’s eyes go wide, his voice slightly panicked as he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- well, I did mean it. But I didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out. Let’s just forget about this. I’m sorry.” I know it seems like a weird reaction after calling a girl pretty, especially when I am, objectively, more than just pretty, if I do say so myself. But given my history with friends hitting on me, I can understand why he’d be a little worried. It usually doesn’t end well, especially when they find out that I’m still a man, at least in one aspect.

I was always a pretty normal guy, at least from the outside looking in. I played sports, made friends, even dated my fair share of women. But I never really felt right, like something was missing. But I grew up in a small, particularly unaccepting town; my parents among that unaccepting population. So I never really knew what transgender really was. Not until I went away to college, that is. I got a girlfriend in the first few weeks, Abigail. She quickly realized I seemed uncomfortable being myself. So we talked, she explained things to me, I cried, she cried, we hugged. To this day, it’s one of the best days of my life. We continued dating a bit, at least publicly, until I was ready to come out. But even after that and the following “breakup”, she remained my best friend. She helped teach me everything she could about being a woman. She taught me skincare, haircare, makeup, fashion, everything. She even helped me decide on the name Shay. Not too different from Shane, but I kinda like that. Reminds me where I come from, even if that isn’t always a good thing.

I eventually returned home as Shay after graduation. I got good at making excuses for why I couldn’t go home, or hiding her when I did. But I knew it was time. And unfortunately, my parents did not surprise me with their acceptance. There was a lot of yelling and crying, all followed up with a disownment. It hurt, of course. But as I said, I wasn’t really surprised. They had never been open and accepting of anything that didn’t fit their norm. My friends back home, on the other hand, did surprise me. Most had also gone away to college, so I guess a larger worldview than our square-mile hometown opened their eyes and their arms to me. It was a little awkward hanging out with them at first, but after a few weeks, it quickly settled into old times. Just guys being guys. Except one of us was a girl now. It was going great for a few months. Until Mike.

Mike had always had a hard time getting a girlfriend. I never understood why, as Shane. He always seemed nice and cool and funny. I always tried to set him up with my girlfriend’s friends, but it never worked out. Now, as Shay, I get it. The looks he would give me always made me feel a little awkward and uncomfortable. The way he would take any chance to touch me, often acting like it was a mistake with his dumb, smug grin. Then, one day, he decided to shoot his shot and asked me out. I politely declined and assumed all would be fine. It wasn’t. He immediately blew up, texting our group chat. Saying bullshit like I came on to him and was being really weird and clingy about it, even after he said no. Some of them believed him, some didn’t, but it pretty much broke the friend group apart. So not only did I lose my family, I lost all my friends just a few months later. I was heartbroken. Almost completely alone except for Abigail and a few other friends from college. Or so I thought, until Jerome asked to meet up one night.

Jerome was another one of my friends from growing up, one of the ones who didn’t believe Mike’s bullshit. We still hadn’t talked in a while because of all that drama, but he had never been anything but kind and supportive of me, so I agreed to meet up. He invited me over to his house to watch the game and have a few drinks. Calling it a house might be something of an understatement; the place was almost a damn mansion. He apparently had become some big-time executive and was doing very well for himself. “Damn, good for him,” I found myself saying as I walked up the driveway. He greeted me at the door with a hug, but unlike the ones Mike would give, this was a lot more welcoming and friendly. He offered me a beer and led me to his home theater. “You have a fucking home theater?” I asked in shock as he just chuckled, his deep chuckle, as he led me downstairs. We watched the game for a bit, made some friendly conversation and bets, drank a ton, and all in all just had a good time like two old friends. Then, he offered me a tour, which I graciously accepted.

That’s how we got to this point. The tour led to Jerome’s home office. We were talking about his work, and I mentioned something about how the report he was working on could be improved, to which he responded. “Damn, you’re right! You’re pretty and smart, huh?” He clearly didn’t mean to let that slip out. It was a drunken mistake. And yet… “So you do think I’m pretty,” I said. I had never really gotten a good, appraising look at Jerome before. I mean, I’d experimented a bit with men, but never anything serious. But looking at him now, knowing what he thinks of me, I have to admit– he’s hot. Tall, dark, muscular. All that paired with someone so kind and accepting. And one of my oldest friends. “I’m sorry,” Jerome started, still panicked. “I know that’s not cool, especially after everything with Mike and the others, but I–” I got up on my tiptoes and was just barely able to manage to interrupt him with a kiss. It was awkward at first, given his surprise and panic, but it quickly grew more passionate and hot as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in deeper. After a minute or so, we pulled apart and just stared at each other for a moment. Looking into his eyes, I felt something, and I don’t just mean attraction (though that was very much prevalent too). I felt comfort. I may have lost my family and most of my friends. But with friends like Jerome, who needs them?

The Sissy Project

As I storm into the library, my heels clicking as I enter, I spot my “team” for our class project and make my way over. They turn and wave me over as soon as they hear the clicking coming down the hall, and I just roll my eyes. “Hi Ellie!” Sasha says as she cheerily waves. She gets up and hugs me, and I hug her back. As much as I hate this situation, it’s hard to be mad at Sasha. She’s too nice and cheery, like, all the time. It’d be almost sickening if it wasn’t comforting. And it’s not her fault I’m like this. “You know I don’t like that name, Sasha,” I mumble. “Would you prefer Elizabeth?” She asks teasingly. I just roll my eyes again and don’t respond. I set my back down and have to untangle this sweater from the straps. “Why do I have this sweater wrapped around my neck like this if I’m not gunna wear it? It’s spring, for fuck’s sake.” “Because,” Angela, the third and final member of our project, begins with a glare, “it’s fashion. Ya know, the whole point of the class you took cause you thought it’d be easy? Like we’re just some kids playing dress-up.” I glare back at Angela in response, but break with a sigh as I get out my notes and my laptop. It’s not her fault either. She’s right. I stupidly thought that a fashion class would be an easy A to get me the random elective credit I needed for my degree, and I’d be out the door. Turns out fashion doesn’t come easy. Especially not for a normal, if petite, man like me who mostly just rocks graphic T’s and sweats.

When I signed up for the fashion studies class, I figured it would be a walk in the park. I mean, it’s just clothes, right? I wear clothes every day, how hard could it be? Turns out, very. I didn’t know a damn thing. I still don’t know how many types of tops there are. It’s insane! And it didn’t help that almost everyone, Professor included, thought I was just there because the rest of the class was almost all women. Which, like, I certainly wasn’t complaining, but is totally not the reason. And Angela especially didn’t like my being there, even more so when her best friend, Sasha, welcomed me with open arms. I think that’s why she picked me for this project. It was a fashion show. Each team of three had to design, style, and arrange 5 different outfits, and one of them would need to model them. Unfortunately for me, my obvious lack of knowledge and any modicum of fashion sense left me designated as the model. And since the only two people willing, if not outright eager, to partner with me were Ellie and Sasha, two girls who really only know women’s fashion, that limited the clothing options, much to my dismay.

After the first day we met to work on the project, where I showed up as my normal self, they put me in a dress that I looked ridiculous in, and strutted across their living room like a newborn giraffe thanks to the heels, they decided I needed to make a few changes. Namely, I was no longer allowed to be Eli until after the project was over. I was to be transformed into and maintain my image as Ellie, the new name they gave me to go along with the semi-permanent hair extensions, plucked eyebrows, and breastforms. I was reluctant at first, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Unless I wanted us to all fail, which I didn’t. And, after they put the makeup on me, I have to admit, I looked real good. Like, to the point that I had to excuse myself to readjust these special “gaff” panties they gave me. And maybe sneak a few photos for… later. All that being said, I will admit, I wasn’t taking to being Ellie all that well. The smoothness of my hairless body was foreign and off-putting, if oddly enjoyable. The mandatory heels killed my feet and legs, but hey, I did learn real quick after the countless falls in the beginning. And the make-up each morning was so tedious, but at least I can do it in one try now instead of seven or eight. But the worst thing was all the attention.

“What’s wrong?” Sasha asked as I unpack haphazardly. “What do you mean?” I reply, distracted. She reaches over and grabs my hand comfortingly. “You just seem, I dunno, off. Did something happen on the way over?” I sigh. She may not seem it at first, but Sasha is damn perceptive. “I-It’s fine,” I stutter in response. “Just, s-some guy hitting on me as I walked across campus. He wouldn’t leave me alone.” Sasha squeezes my hand lightly and chuckles softly. “Yea, that’ll happen. Life of a hot girl, am I right?” I yank my hand away angrily and turn to her, tears in my eyes as I stare at her just as angrily. “That’s just it, Sasha!” I whisper-yell, too afraid of making a scene to really yell. “I’m not a girl, am I? I’m a fucking guy, god damn it! Why do I still need to do all this? I’ve learned how to walk in heels, do my make-up, style my hair, all of it! So why!?” She just stares at me for a moment. Then, tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” she replies, her voice soft, barely a whisper. I sigh. “No, Sasha, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t snap at you. It’s just… this,” I gesture across my body from head to toe, “is all new and weird to me. And you’ve been nothing but kind to me.” She sniffles and lunges forward to pull me into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Eli,” Sasha says, my real name sounding foreign in her voice after weeks of being called Ellie. “You can stop dressing like this if you want. We never meant to make you think you had to stay a girl. We planned on telling you you could change back, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Hell, you even started talking in a surprisingly convincing girl voice, which we never told you to do.” I look at her, shocked. I guess I might have been enjoying it more than I let myself realize. “I mean,” I start, “it hasn’t been too bad, I guess. Except for the guys. That’s, like, totally gross.” Angela laughs, “Do you realize how girly that sounds? Plus, you’ve been learning a lot about fashion now that you experience it from the front row, so to speak. I mean, look at that outfit you put together- your hands down adorable in it.” I feel myself blush as I respond, “R-really, you think? I just thought about everything you guys have said over the last few weeks and, I dunno, just put something together.” “Well, it worked? You are killing it,” Sasha said as she hugged me again. “But, if you want, you can go back to being Eli. I mean, the hair stays, but you can just throw it into a man bun if you want.” I pull back from the hug and look between her and Angela. Then I look down shyly as I say, “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay Ellie for a little bit. At least until the fashion show is over.” Sasha squeals excitedly as she hugs me again, and Angela just chuckles under her breath. Something tells me Ellie may last a little longer than the fashion show.

Vampire's Suck

Ya know, it’s a good thing that the myth about vampires and mirrors is completely wrong, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to take this video in the bathroom mirror. It’s also a good thing most people consider us just myths. They chalk my teeth up to fakes. Or think that I had them filed or something. They would never actually guess I’m a real vampire, that would be ridiculous. But, alas, it’s true. I wasn’t always a vampire, though it’s been a long, long time since I was a human. Or a boy, for that matter. I owe both of those things to Master Damon.

See, I was born a long time ago, back in the 15th century. Back then my name was Ingram Rowntree. Geez, it feels strange to use that name after so long. I was never the biggest or burliest man, even after I grew out of boyhood. Nonetheless, I wanted to prove I was a real man. There was a beast, presumably a wolf, that kept killing the hunters in my village. We’d send others out to try to find the missing hunters. However, they’d only return with bodies, if they returned at all. So I set out to hunt down this supposed wolf, determined to bring back its body and prove I could be a man, just like the rest. Turns out that wolf was really a vampire.

I met Master Damon in those woods. He was standing there, towering over me, blood dripping from his fangs and chin. He was struggling to survive, having recently been turned. He didn’t yet have full control over his new abilities. However, he had finally learned to ensnare the minds of mortals and turn us into his thralls. Which is exactly what he did to me. He rested his large, dark hand on my shoulder, and I felt it. I was enraptured by his magic and his every word, unable to refuse even his simplest of commands. He had me go into village after village and draw them out for him to feed. The more he fed, the stronger he grew. After doing this for months, he’d finally figured out how to transform me into a vampire myself, though still under his control. Unlike the myths and stories of the modern age, it isn’t as simple as just biting my neck. It was some sort of blood magic ritual, transferring some of his life force into me, tethering us together, making me even more subservient and reliant on him. But it did effectively turn me into a vampire, granting me similar strength to him, though him being the alpha means he is still much stronger. But that was only the first ritual he performed on me.

A few centuries later, Master Damon had grown so powerful that none could withstand his power or magical charms. I, on the other hand, hadn’t changed at all. The eternal life unfortunately came with a big downside for me: I don’t really change physically. I don’t grow, can’t build any muscle (not that I need it, I’m stronger than even the strongest mortal man), and I don’t notably age, so I still look as boyish and unmanly as I did when I was turned. But Master Damon had been looking for a spell or potion that would allow him to change me. Make me look like the man I’ve always imagined myself becoming. He really was a generous Master. And it seems he had finally done it. He called me to the secret laboratory under his manor. He had ritual circles and glowing crystals all around the room. He instructed me to stand in the middle and gave me some concoction that would knock me out. As I took it, he explained the ritual would allow him to mold my body. He promised he would shape me into the ideal shape for us. But when I awoke, I could tell something was wrong.

When I woke, my normal short, cropped hair was in my eyes. It was also a lighter blonde than my usual dirty blonde. I sat up, feeling a weird heft and movement on my chest. I looked down to see… BREASTS!? “What the hell!?” I heard a high-pitched and very feminine voice scream from my throat. I looked around frantically, searching for Master Damon. I spotted him standing a few feet away, just outside of the ritual circle, smirking. “Now, now,” I heard his deep, masculine voice rumble. “Shouting and cursing isn’t very ladylike, Isolda.” My eyes grew wide in shock and anger. “You- you turned me into a woman!? Why!?” I asked. He chuckled deeply, and I felt a tingling sensation from my new anatomy. “Well,” he began. “It has been quite a long time since I’ve been able to really let loose in the bedroom.” He casually strolls over to me and rests his large, dark hand on my now bare shoulder before continuing. “These mortal women are far too fragile for me to really enjoy myself. So I needed one that would be able to handle me at my full power. And what better way than turning my ever-loyal servant into my eternal lover? You’re already wrapped around my finger.” He raises his hand and cups my chin, and I feel my leg start to grow damp as my wetness flows down it. “Now you’ll just be wrapping yourself around my other parts,” he says with a smirk as he leans in and pulls me into a deep kiss.

That was our first night together, but far, far from our last. Many centuries have passed since then. Now, we live relatively normal, modern lives. Daddy Damon, as he now requires I call him, is a big-time lawyer now. He uses his magical charms to convince juries and win all his cases easily. He makes good money, so we can afford to buy black market blood so we don’t have to feed on mortals. I don’t work, since there’s no need with him making so much. So I just stay home and clean. I started a TikTok, just to have something to do while Daddy’s at work. I never expected it to take off as much as it did. I guess there’s a lot of horny guys out there who like petite, blonde, vampire girls. Who would’ve guessed? Never in the hundreds of years I lived did I think this is where I’d end up. But all in all, it’s not so bad. It has quite a few perks! “Isolda,” I hear Daddy call. “I’m home. Had a big win today, come help me celebrate.” Speaking of said perks, looks like this video will have to wait. This vampire has some sucking to do! I love my life!

Sophie Sweetheart

Extra cap for this week!! This is a little collab with my lovely friends Syd and Sammi!!! It's in a universe Syd started a while back but Sammi kind of adopted from her, so I'm honored to be a part of it!!!

Here is a link to Syd's part. One of Sammi's is over on her Patreon if you want to go and support her over there!! It's great stuff, so I definitely recommend it!! Either way, definitely check her out on DeviantArt! She did two and her most recent post there is one of them!

 

 

 

Sophie used to be a regular guy, she thinks. It’s all kind of fuzzy when she tries to think back to who she used to be. Unclear flashes of memories, a name. Timmy? Tommy? Eh, who remembers? Or cares! Sophie certainly doesn’t. All she cares about from back then is watching her favorite artists, Sissy Sassi and Jenny Jiggles! She didn’t know why, but something about them was just so… mesmerizing. And, surprisingly for a young guy, it wasn’t their boobs and ass. Well, not how you’d think anyway. Even back then, she wasn’t attracted to them. Which is weird, cuz she thinks she was straight then. Maybe. Who knows? Again, fuzzy. But she wasn’t attracted to them, she wanted to be them, big boobs and ass included.

She hadn’t had much at the time, but she’d had enough to afford some hormones, hoping they would give her assets like Jenny and Sassi, since she couldn’t afford surgeries. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Not to say they didn’t work, her skin became hairless and smooth, her hair silky, her face soft. And she did grow some breasts. But not as big as she wanted. She waited and hoped, but they stopped growing. So, she started to focus on her career. She wanted to be a Sissy Star just like her idols. So she took lessons, learned to sing and write songs, dance, everything she needed!

The first few videos she posted online, covers of Sammi and Jenny’s songs, didn’t do great. A handful of views and likes, but a lot of hateful comments. People saying terrible thing after terrible thing. Calling her gay like it was an insult. Some conspiracy about mind control and hypno… whatever, it was complicated and stupid. This is just who she is. But some of the comments were supportive. And one in particular piqued her interest. It was an agent looking to sign her as the next big Sissy Pop Star! She immediately replied, and within a month, she was recording her first professional music video! Though, it wasn’t all how she’d dreamed it.

“Listen,” the agent said to Sophie, now going by Sophie Sweetheart, as she was getting ready for the video. “Sassi is already known for her big ass and Jenny for her tits. Competing with them on that front would be career-ending, and yours has barely begun.” Sophie pouted, “But I want to be like them! It’s all I’ve ever wanted since I saw their collab! I want the boobs! I want the butt! I want the hung studs! It isn’t fair!” The agent pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, sweetheart, it’s too late for that. We’ve already decided to lean into your innocent look, so that’s what you’re gunna have to settle for.” Tears began to well up in the corners of Sophie’s eyes. The agent sighed. “Listen, you’re adorable and innocent. They’ll eat that up, and you’ll be just as big a name as Sassi and Jenny in no time. And besides,” she smirked, “the studs will be all over an innocent-looking thing like you. And you don’t have to be innocent with them.” That perked Sophie right up!

And that’s how Sophie Sweetheart got here. She is in her staging area for her first big concert. She was recording a little video, showing off her dress for her hundreds of thousands of followers. She was nervous, but even more excited! The stadium was sold out, and she was the headliner. There are even rumors Sassi might be in attendance! She hopes they're true, it would be an honor to perform in front of one of her idols! Maybe one day, they’ll even get to share the stage! But that was probably a long ways away. For now, she was excited for the concert, and even more so for what comes after. Wallace “The Wall” Johnson was going to be there tonight. He was some sort of athlete, Sophie doesn’t really know exactly, sports are too confusing. But what she does know is he is built like an obsidian obelisk, and rumor has it he has one in his pants too! Sophie already reached out and has everything set up for after the concert. Turns out her agent was right, guys love the innocent thing. Especially when Sophie is known to be anything but innocent behind a closed bedroom door!

Feminizing Forfeits

As I sat there, nervously running my hand through my now long hair, I mentally begged the poker gods to bless this hand for me. I’ve not had much, or any, luck the last couple months we’ve played. That’s how I ended up looking like this. Long hair extensions, a pretty, made-up face, and breast forms that are, thankfully, mostly unnoticeable in my biker vest. But the payoff for losing this week may just be a line I can’t cross back over.

This all started because of my ego, which now, looking back, I can admit may have gotten out of hand. Hindsight and all that, right? I was always on the more petite side for boys, by a large margin, and I didn’t like that. So I acted tough. Started fights with those who wouldn’t immediately pummel me, dressed cool, got a badass motorcycle. You know, real cool and manly stuff. Always acting like the big man. And some of my friends got sick of it. So they devised this plan.

I lost my job a few months ago, so I hadn’t been going to the weekly poker games. Had to save all the money I could. But, the guys invited me to one, insisting that I could do some forfeits instead of paying. It had been a while since I got to school those chumps in the finer arts of poker, so I agreed. Huge mistake. I don’t know if they’d just gotten so much better in my time away from the game, or found a way to rig it against me, but I was getting the worst hands imaginable, and they seemed to know. I lost big that first week back. That’s when I got these hair extensions. They didn’t seem too bad, but obviously that was just the start.

I figured the extensions weren’t that bad of a forfeit, so I came back the next week. Same damn shitty hands and poor bluffs. I just couldn’t catch a break. So I lost again. This time, the forfeit was just to go to the salon and get my nails done. On the winner, of course, since I still had no money. It was ridiculous, but I guess it could’ve been worse. Then I lost again the next week, and the week after that. And after that. Each time, I figured the punishment wasn’t too bad, and I was a big man. I could handle a little makeup or skincare, no problem. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for this week's game that I caught on. I opened the box with last week’s forfeit in it and saw two mounds of what looked like silicone. It wasn’t until I read the instructions that I realized what they were. Breast forms.

“What the fuck!?” I shouted as I stepped into Barry’s basement for the game that night. All the guys were already there, and they started laughing hysterically. “Finally noticed, huh?” Hal asked between laughs. “Yea, I fucking noticed. Why the hell are you guys turning me into a chick?” My furious steps made the new and unsupported mound on my chest jiggle uncomfortably. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually put them on,” Steve said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Listen,” Bruce said. “You wanted a way to play without blowing through your savings, which, with how shit your luck has been, would have been instant. So we gave you one.” “Yea,” Oliver agreed. “You could’ve stopped anytime, but you didn’t. So, you can step out if you don’t want to play. Or, you can sit your pretty ass down, and we’ll deal the cards.” I growled, but, prideful as ever, I sat.

It was the final hand. I needed to win this hand. Off the deal, I had a pair of aces. Great start. Then the first card of the flop was another ace. Fucking amazing! Three aces. Finally, the poker gods smiled upon me. Then a 2, then a Jack. I bet, and everyone calls. Suckers! Next card is a 7. Oliver bets. Bruce raises. I say a mental fuck it and I go all in. Everyone folds except Barry. He stares at me for a few silent moments. Analyzing me. I keep my poker face. He shrugs and shoves his pile in. “Call,” he says evenly. The last card- it all comes down to this. And right now, I have possibly the best hand. Another 2 flips over. I smile and throw my cards. “Full house, aces full of twos! Beat that mother fucker!” Barry’s eyes go wide, and he lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s a great hand,” he begins. But then a worrying smirk stretches across his face. “Too bad it can’t beat my four twos.” He lays down the other 2 twos and then racks in all the chips.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” I shout, my voice rising an octave, almost matching my appearance. “I lost to a pair of fucking twos!? With ACES!?” Barry laughs. “Them's the breaks, princess.” “Don’t! Call me princess,” I say, standing and slamming a manicured hand down on the table. He stands as well. In that moment, I realized how much bigger and taller he is than I am. It was… intimidating. “Or what? You won’t pay up?” He asked. I sighed angrily. “What is the forfeit?” I ask through gritted teeth. His smirk grows, becoming almost devilish. “Well,” he began as he undid his belt. Realization dawned on me in that moment. “OH HELL NO!” I screamed, turning to leave. He grabbed my arm, his pants falling. “Fine, then you can pay me the two grand you owe me,” he said. I turned back and looked him in the eye, trying to be fierce. By the look in his eyes, I knew I failed. “I-I don’t have it, and you know that,” I tell him. He shrugs. “Then you know what you gotta do.” I growled and pulled my arm from his grip. Then I reluctantly, slowly lowered to my knees, ready to swallow my pride, and if the sound of all the other belt buckles unclasping around me was an indicator, a lot more.