Monday, 30 June 2014

...That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die

Unfortunately, it's not today. Usually (in fact all of the time), I would use real life as a reason for the delay but that's only applicable about two months ago. I've been slacking these two months, slowly writing up various captions just to abandon them when I hit upon writer's block and finally I've finished a few of the ones that still hold promise. I think.

I've also noticed the transcripts are rather long so readers may not be able to see all the posts at one go, so I've included links to various of the captions I have created for this update.

Masking, bodysuit:
Transformation, Medallion of Zulo:
Costume Gun:

To Catch a Voyeur


“Oh yes, that feels so good!” the woman on the sofa moans as her left hand rubs her clit while her other hand busily fingers her own vagina. Her moaning is loud and clear, as if she thinks she is alone in the mansion and her dirty moans will not be heard by anybody from the outside.

She was wrong for I am peeping at her from my window at next door, feasting my eyes and ears on the lewd scene laid before me. It’s a wonder what can do with a high-powered telescope and a industry grade laser microphone. The woman writhing in pleasure is my neighbour, Claire, a rather demure girl that is considered by many as a piano prodigy. Now clearly, I can see her talent in handling the piano is just as applicable in masturbation with her slender fingers massaging her pussy in varying speed and ferocity.

This is also not the first time I’m peeping at Claire’s self-loving session either. She only masturbates around this time when the house is empty, her stay-home father having his weekly golf session, her mother working as a executive in some fortune 500 company, his brother attending practice with his band and the rest of the servants having their weekly day-off. Here is the perfect time to let herself wild from the strict piano regime and academic life. It’s arousing to see these two different sides of her and I have front row seats for it.

This, however, is the first time I’ve seen her dressed like this. Usually, she would be either in her casual clothes or her school uniform (my favourite) but today, she has apparently raided her mother’s closet and dressing table. Open-toed high heel shoes that accentuate her slender legs, flesh-toned stockings that clings lovingly to her thighs and giving them a warmer tone to her already graceful legs, waist cincher that gives her lithe body a bit of the hourglass shape but the most important change is her makeup. I’ve never seen her with makeup and I’ve always thought she is cute without it. But with it? She’s a fucking goddess, especially the full lips, oh how it begs to be kissed. Claire, you’re putting on quite a show-

“Oh Mister Barlow, I wish this was your cock here. Mmm, fuck me harder Mister Barlow!”

Wait, Barlow? Is she calling my name?

I know he has been peeping at me for quite some time. In fact, little Claire here has already known about it hence the routine; she knows when her audience will look in. I would wager Barlow doesn’t know of her exhibitionistic streak but that is alright, today shall be an enlightening day for Mr Barlow.

Zachery Barlow, a millionaire whose fortune is built on top of spams, personal information, stolen credit numbers and other illegal electronic means, is a quirky one. A recluse and apparently shy freelance computer hacker, he spent most of his time holed up in his mansion alone, preferably dealing his business remotely. However, his home is hardened against electronic surveillance, his hardware runs on a custom ROM and worse of all, his wall of lawyers forbids any legal shenanigans against him. No friends, no family, not even a courier enters his mansion. It’s like a high tech Waziristan Haveli.

The Costume Gun is the agency’s secret and most horrifying weapon. Anyone could wield it so the agency restrict all access to it barring a few individuals like me. However, with this situation, I can’t even get close to Barlow or even initiate contact with him until I met Claire. She’s initially used for surveillance as the neighbours probably know him better than we do.

Luring her to a secluded spot under the guise of her friend, I simply zapped her with it and watched her deflated at that instant. The sensation of wearing a skin is familiar but always alien to me: legs narrowing to fit her supple legs, penis disappearing into the skin as I pulled it up; a feminine slit taking its place instead, hips and butt flaring to suit the petite body, chest swelling to fill her perky breast and finally, the head deforming to conform to her demure, delicate face. The transformation was finished, I had become Claire.

While wearing back her clothes, I fought the disorientation and nausea that flooded my senses, it happened whenever my mind adjusted to a new body. Prodding about in Claire’s memory, I was surprised about her little exhibitionistic session with Barlow, looks like the neighbours did know better than us after all. By the time I returned home, I have quickly adapted to Claire’s mannerism and personality due to her memories. No one would suspect me, not even the perverse Barlow.

A moan escapes me as I rubbed the clit of my stolen body’s vagina, my other hand toying with my erected nipple. All these while looking directly at Barlow’s direction, telling him that I know his dirty secret but I am fine with it. Replaying her memory, I mimicked her usual way of masturbating, this way Barlow would even not suspect an imposter. However, I did do something out of character, I stole some lingerie, hosiery and heels from Claire’s mother closet and powdered myself using her mother’s makeup. Despite Claire’s inexperience with such things, I use my own experience from my time as other woman to complement her. The silk stocking clung lovingly to Claire’s toned legs and her heels compliment it. I reasoned that if I wish to get even closer to Barlow, I will have to do some extraordinary makeover with Claire.

Amidst the pleasure assailing my mind, I sense that Claire’s body is nearing to a climax. Smiling lustfully, I got off the counch and knelt on the floor and make sure that my moist and swollen snatch is facing Barlow’s direction. Once done, I gyrate my hips while fingering my pussy with renew vigour.

“Oh Mister Barlow, are you looking at this?” I purr as I look back, mustering the lustiest face I can give to him. My breathing quickens as I feel the vaginal muscle clenching, readying itself a mighty bulidup of lust and carnal desire, “Fuck yes, I’m cumming. Fuck, Mister Barlow, cum on me!” I screamed as the buildup explodes, blanking out my mind and sharply spreading pleasure across my spine.

Today, Claire and Barlow has grown even closer than usual. Tomorrow when Claire visits me personally, I will make sure they grow even closer.

Sunday, 29 June 2014

Cat and Mouse


The assailant closed the door behind him and unconsciously touched his face when he saw the man on the bed looking up to him. He knew that the disguise is perfect but that action was a bad habit of his, cultivated from the days of the Cold War espionage.

“Lorie, who was it?” the man asked groggily as if awoke from a slumber.

“Oh it’s Jacqueline, that silly girl. She just wanted to return me the novel I lent her before she goes off to Las Vegas,” the assailant replied. That was not entirely a lie as it was indeed Jacqueline that visited Lorie Perry, at least that was what it looked like to the neighbours and Lorie herself.

“I’m sorry to bother you honey, let’s go to bed,” the assailant said sheepishly as he climbed into the bed. His dulcet tone was exactly like that of Lorie’s, something inimitable to even the most impressive artist, the assailant would never cease to be surprised of the voice coming out of his voice box. It was something the device could do.

“Hmm, should we give her a lift to the airport tomorrow, I’m leaving as well-”

“Oh don’t be silly, her flight would be in the afternoon. Your flight is the morning,” That however, was a lie. In fact, Jacqueline was still downstairs, in the storeroom. The assailant in Jacqueline’s skin visited Lorie under the pretense of returning the novel. Returning the novel, the assailant, in Jacqueline’s plummy voice, asked for a drink. He knew from Jacqueline’s memory, that Lorie had good hospitality and would not reject her offer. Once Lorie had her back turned, the assailant took out a toy gun and aimed at her. With a silent and sudden flash, Lorie was no more, her form disappeared from where she walked, leaving only a pile of her nightwear and skin on that spot.

Quickly, the assailant entered the house, he knew he had not much time else the husband suspected something. Stripping fast without a waste of movement, he pointed the toy gun to himself and triggered. Jacqueline’s face crumpled and sagged as the assailant pulled off the skinsuit from behind his head, showing a rather bald and beady-eyes man. Wriggling out of Jacqueline’s skin, he moved his muscular naked form over to Lorie’s pile and wore her skin through the opening at the back. His thick legs shrank and elongated as he put his legs into the suit, suiting that of Lorie’s shapely legs. Pulling up the suit, his body shrank and wrapped as it adapted to the suit’s frame; his penis flattened and melded with Lorie’s smooth nether region, his hips and ass flared while his abdomen tightened and wrapped into Lorie’s hourglass figure, his chest expanded and moulded itself to fill Lorie’s luscious breast and finally, when he pulled the empty face over his, his face deformed within to aligned itself with Lorie’s face.

Alien sensation filled his body as the assailant's mind got used to the new body he had acquired, he felt a sense of familiarity as he took on Lorie’s identity. This is her home, she is the wife of the assailant’s target, Dr. Oved Silverstein, one of DARPA’s top scientist, tomorrow she had to attend a community event but before that, she was going to accompany her husband to the airport where he would fly to Edinburgh for a conference. A perfect cover. The assailant could leisurely look through the house for information of the alleged anti-costume gun prototype

That done, the assailant defly gather Jacquline’s pile and shove them into the storeroom, after which, she went up all the while sashaying as the assailant quickly conditioned himself to get used to Lorie’s gait while whispering to herself to get used to her manners of speech. All of these within an instant as he tapped into Lorie’s mind, something only the device can do.

As the couples fell asleep, the good doctor never suspected a thing. Even when he coyly wrapped his arms around his wife to get a good feel of her body, her wife merely cooed in return and wrapped her nylon clad legs around his, just like every other night. ‘Ah, my wife knows best,’ the scientist thought as he drifted himself to sleep, smelling the scent his wife always used before he slept.

I did it! I finally did it! The mystery of the Costume Gun is no more!

With this, we could use it deter the rampant espionage going around the world and unethical use of such devices. Still it’s fascinating how the costume gun works; breaking down the victim’s molecular structures, it -

“Honey, is that you?”

Oh, my thoughts must have wandered again. No wonder my wife calls me scatterbrained. This reminds me, I have to re-orgranise my desk. It’s a mess but I don’t remember touching it before I left for Edinburgh. Oh whatever, celebration comes first.

“Dear, you cannot believe what I’ve done,”

“Oh honey, you can tell me all about it when we get back from dinner. Now, get dressed now or we’ll be late,” Walking up the stairs, I finally realise the glasses I am wearing. Oh dear, I brought the prototype home! The prototype that allows the user to see through a costume gun user by highlighting the point of entry of the skin. This point of entry on the victim’s skin is created when the costume gun is used on a victim, I have found out this entry is visible under specific electromagnetic spectrum which this pair of glass can filter with visible light.

I get into the bedroom just to see my wife doing her make-up in the room. Ah, as beautiful and sexy as always, I wonder whether would she prepare some kinky-wait, what is that slit?!

Smoke and Mirror


“You know, I say I’m desperate but I’m not that desperate,”

“Nonsense, my dear brother. You are contemplating to sell dad’s house to pay off out debts. Admit it Charles, you are scraping the bottom of the barrel,”

“Yeah but there isn’t a need to do this-”

“Charles, listen to me. It’s exactly because you can that’s why we are doing this. It’s fine if you wish to flip burgers or be a Walmart employee but you must understand your gift is going to open doors for you,”

“Not a particular gift I’m proud of, sis,”

“We all had to earn our living. Some of us are not fortunate enough to live our dreams, you know?”

Charles sighed. All he wanted to do was to teach. However society’s paranoia of males around young kids and perception of male teachers not being sympathetic or good as their female counterparts were obstacles to his dream. Then again, Charles was not your typical male; being shorter, smaller and androgynous due to genes and diet, Charles still look quite boyish despite being in his late twenties. That was his sister’s inspiration.

His sister, Jennifer had a outlandish idea. If they don’t wish to hire Charles, maybe they will hire Charline instead, Charles alter ego. It was not first time he had crossdressed anyway, she reasoned as he had a minor in theatrics. In his course of studies, he had experienced being the fairer sex for the sake of the play but that was that, merely theatrics and drama. However, he argued, this was real life. Nobody would be that stupid.

How very wrong was he when Jennifer, a makeup artist by trade, applied her magic on his face; thick eyeliners and eyeshadows on his eyes to emphasise them, foundation to hide the blemishes and 5 o’clock shadows, lipsticks and lipliners to make his lips fuller and brushes on his face to soften his manly features. When the wig was put over him, Charles scrutinised his reflection; all that was greeted to him was a familiar but feminine face. The reflection’s solemn but seductive eyes disguised his plain beady eyes, its elongated and narrow nose created through concealers and brush, its lips made full using nothing but lipstick, lipgloss, lipliner and depth perception and its cheeks slightly full and puffed with judicial application of the rogue. Charline was staring at him.

“Holy shit Jennifer, how?” Charles muttered in amazement however he noted that his voice had spoiled the illusion a bit and if he looked at it closer, it was as if his face was emerging from the reflection.

“Smokes and mirrors, dear brother. Now let’s change that tone of yours. It’s unsightly for a woman to have such a deep voice.” Jennifer replied mockingly.

Charles chuckled, it was a while since he did this, he wondered whether he still got it in him. “I know darling, is this good enough?” a huskier voice emanated from his voice box, ‘that’s better,’ he thought as he looked, it complimented the rather somber lady in the mirror.

“Not yet hun,” Jennifer rummaged through a couple of bags and took out a pair of breast form, “you still look like a man down there.”

Charles then went through the transformation like a routine as habits from his theatre days came back to him. The process felt familiar; shaving off the remaining hairs on his legs, moisturising of the skin, the breast forms, the infamous tucking of the cock to give the illusion of a flat, smooth crotch.wearing of the bra first before hooking, the padded girdles that was seemingly one size smaller all the time, rolling up of the tights and carefully pulling them up through both legs, buttons on the left side of clothes and finally, the airy opening beneath his skirt.

And when he finally did up his own hair, he looked into the mirror again. There, a fully bona fide female wa staring at him, he smiled and the reflection did the same, he posed and the reflection copied his move.  The illusion was immaculate not only from the outside but the inside as well, Charles was slowly being convinced that he was a female as he relished the feeling of his satin blouse caressing his bare skin, his opaque black tights wrapping around his legs tightly, his skirt hugging snugly against his false hip and his breast form weighing against the bra like actual breasts.

“So, shall we see whether people are as stupid as you thought?” Jennifer snapped out of his reverie as she grabbed her bag, “Hmm, Charline?” Jennifer continued cheekily. The woman in front of the mirror merely turned her smile into a smirk as she sashayed confidently towards her sister, skills learnt from the past were returning to her. Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor, each move causing his false bosom to bounce slightly and his nylon clad thighs to rub against each other tenderly. Charline was loving these sensations.

“Let’s go darling,” Charline said with a dignified air, a headmistresses archetype should be most welcomed for a lot of school and she wanted to get her act right.

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Ensnared by a Dionaea


The room, as usual, is filled with the smell of rose and lilac, no doubt from her perfume to enhance her femininity. Sometimes, I wonder whether she tempers it by adding pheromones to arouse people around her seeing that man and woman alike are always receptive towards her.

‘Her’? Ah yes, I’ve gone over the dilemma of assigning a gender to ‘her’. It’s easier that way, besides, she likes it when she’s referred as ‘miss’.

There she is, crouching in front of her mirror, clad in silk lingerie and fishnet stocking. She must have heard me and assumed that position for she knows what I like, her slim but firm derriere. Her skin seems to shimmer in the light and one does not need to touch to know that it is smooth and soft. How she does maintain that body is anybody’s guess, she’s extremely tight-lipped with her regime. Hormones, exercise, diet, genetics, surgery, fucking magic? Could be any of those and frankly, I have stopped rationalising a few weeks after being employed under her. Besides, I have a bigger problem now as I discretely shift my pants.

“Are you ready, ma'am?” I clear my throat, trying to level my tone. Keep it professional, Yori, it is not after hours yet. The woman narrowed her lips (made plump no doubt with the help of lipstick) into a fake pout. “How many times do I have to tell you,” she swang deftly and crossed her toned legs, “call me Minako,” My eyes immediately take in the sight of her lithe body, the petite bosom; realistic breast form with its lines masked under foundational make-up, taut stomach and the flat nether region of which under the silk panty tucks a male appendage that contradicts against her feminine illusion.

“Oh, I wonder what are you looking at?” She grins as she catches my line of sight. Her feminine voice, no doubt trained from young, betrays no sign of masculinity. People have often expressed surprise when they know of her identity (it takes a lot of persuasion, some had even demanded her to strip and show her genitia) and most often than not it’s either disgust, admiration, arousal or a mixture of all three after the initial shock.

I belonged to the latter, that is probably why she teases me so. She enjoys seeing people squirm as they question their notion taken granted. She also enjoys it when people shower her with affection not because of her femininity but because of who she is and she knows I would shower her with it by pressing the right buttons.    

“Anyway, please get ready, ma’am. The play is starting soon,” I replied curtly and turned around just in time to get hugged from behind. Her deft hands rubbing my already erected penis. “I only need an hour to get ready for the play, my dear Yori,” she whispered huskily (damn her range is good), “So pray tell, why are you here four hours early, hmm?” I could not see it but I could feel her smirk from behind. The air is now heavy with the fragrance of rose and lilac, it is making me light-headed. Fuck, she caught me red-handed.

Really, I’m ensnared by her like a fly to a venus flytrap.

Father-Daughter Bonding


“Oh daddy, are you awake? Now, now, don’t struggle, you will just be chaffing your wrist against the bond! And don’t bother screaming, I have sent the servants for a day off and mother, well, she’s in a deep sleep. Don’t look at me like that daddy, how could I hurt my own mother?”

“Ah, I see that you have caught my reflection, then I guess I will drop the pretense. You see, my client had sent me to, persuade you to forgo the business expansion into Europe. As you can see, I have your daughter. Or should I say, I am your daughter?”

“However, my client is benevolent. He proposed a postponement of your plans by six months. In return, your daughter, family and most importantly your reputation will be safe. A fair deal, isn’t it?”

“Do not worry about your board of directors, my client has paid a few of my kins to make sure they are in the same boat as you so you would have full support as well,”

“I don’t really like the look of your face, Mr Wang. It seems you don’t understand the position you’re in. Your daughter has a body to die for and I know people who would pay top dollars to have a go with her and a whole lot of people who would appreciate a live session of her getting fucked. Your wife, while not attractive to most, could garner a loyal fanbase of people who have a fetish for old woman. All of these with me in the driver seat and trust me Mr Wang, I am familiar with all kinds of debauchery and I have never failed to please a crowd,”

“You still don’t look convinced. Oh the reflection! Don’t worry,”

“Hah, the look of your face is priceless. It takes time and experience but I can shift my face back to the original at will,”

“Where is your daughter? Silly old man, I am your daughter! Remember her overseas trip? Yeah, I met her there and possessed her, just like that. All those shopping trips and family outings and dinner? Yep, you guessed it. It’s me. You couldn’t have guessed a man is inside lil’ Hui Wen and has perfectly imitated her so fucking well,”

“So do we have an agreement? That’s my good man. Why am I dressed like that? I will come to that right now. You see, daddy, I need additional insurance to your co-operation and I am fucking horny right now. You see this video camera here? Yes, I think I know what you’re thinking. I wonder how would the Chinese public react if they see one of their top CEO is actually fucking his own daughter?”

“Don’t deny it. I know of your fetish. If not for it, I would have hopped your mistress instead for this. Aha, my daddy is rather naughty isn’t he? Come on now, let’s know each other more.”

One Night Stand


The couch’s leather creaked as the couples on it embroiled themselves in lust and love. The woman beneath moaned but she spoke no words as her tone conveyed her message well and clear: ‘fuck me harder’. The men under her reciprocate in kind to her desire by thrusting his cock harder into her glistening snatch.

The moans became hotter and lustful as the intensity of their intercourse reached to a feverish pitch. The men beneath squeezed his girlfriend’s soft bottom tighter as he felt himself nearing to the climax. The woman sensing the stiffness of his partner’s cock, rode harder and relished the hotness of his shaft sliding in and out like a piston, lubricated by her love juice. Squeezing her vagina muscles to get more of what she desired, she whispered huskily into her ears of her loved one to let it all out into her. The man heard it and complied to her wanton desires, ejaculating his hot semen into her hungry snatch with a grunt. Receiving it, the woman cooed sensually and nibbled his ears with a blissful smile before setting her head on his chest as she let the man catch his breath.

“Oh Ida,” the man wheezed, “that was probably the greatest one we had, why-”

“Kevin, shh,” Ida hushed him with his finger, “No question,”

Kevin shut his mouth. He didn’t knew what had gone into his ex-fiancee who left him penniless after their divorce. One doesn't see that happening often outside of drama serials but here he was, rekindling old fire with his former love. ‘Maybe it was pity sex,’ he thought dejectedly, his mind going through the scene of his doctor telling him that his cancer was terminal. But other than his best friend, how would she had known? ‘I will need to confront that bastard, this is getting awkward,’ he mentally regretted it as he recovered from the post-coitus mood.

Ida felt her vagina still aching. Obviously still not satisfied with current session, Ida inwardly cursed herself, she wanted to be a good partner for his ex-fiance and being slutty right now would be spoiling the mood. However, she would not be a bodyhopper if she had not mastered the arts of sex and arousing a male for another go was one of the earliest tricks she had to learn.

Ida or rather Doran, Kevin’s accursed best friend, was a bodyhopper for more than a decade already, in between his hopping, he still . When he had learnt of Kevin’s situation, he went to Ida to deliver the news, hoping that Ida would at least accompany or visit a dying man but when Doran heard her cold rejection, he moved onto his backup plan.

Now in her body, his innate nature of being a bodyhopper, his unusually high libido, is becoming a liability to the romantic mood he had set up for Ida and Kevin. Slowly moving down to his waist, he, in Ida’s body, took Kevin’s cock and licked his shaft slowly, savouring the taste of Ida’s love juice mixed with Kevin’s semen while teasing Ida’s clit. The moans and feeling of getting licked snapped Kevin out of his thoughts as he felt his libido rising again. The night had just began and Doran would make this his greatest night of his best friend’s remaining days.

Kappa Theta Alpha


We are the ugly and the unwanted, the social outcasts and the forgettables. Nobody remembers us but that’s fine. In fact, it’s good that we are out of people’s eyes and minds considering what we do.

Today marks the beginning of a new cycle. The upper echelon of the Upsilon Alpha Society will meet and choose the Daughters for this month. They shall be tested to see if they are deemed worthy to be the followers of Juno. I and five of my fellow brethrens are chosen. If all goes well, we would call each other sister by the end of the trial.

Like many of my brethren, I am sickly and unusually tall and thin. No one pays attention to me as if I am invisible to people, they even express their surprise and shock whenever I ‘crept’ up to them. This went on throughout my life until I reached college where I found myself in unexpected company: fellow pariahs like me through unexpected means: a beautiful lady by the name of Samantha. I was weirded out at first, thinking it was a prank but after they show what they do, I was convinced to join this weird fraternity: The Kappa Theta Alpha.

I am naked in one of the many guest rooms we have in our Chapter House and on the table is my trial, a potion that will start my journey as a Daughter. Despite being a man, I have always wondered what it’s like to be a woman. Crossdressing with my mother’s clothes have not helped satiate my curiosity, instead it only ignites it and I think Samantha sees it in me, after all, it takes one to know one. Taking the potion, I gulp it at one go and focus a single image of a woman in my mind. My ideal woman. The woman I have perfected in my mind all for the preparation for this day.

The transformation is painful and too slow for my liking. Muscles contract, realign and expand on its own accord, bones snap and resize, fats spontaneously form around my hip and chest area and hairs recede and extend in different parts of my body. The searing pain was so unbearable that I have to scream, my voice distorted and inhumane but I must retain the image in my mind; those supple bosom and derriere, the child-bearing hips, the flowing brown hair and the dulcet tone that she will possess. Finally, I feel it; the transformation bearing the fruits of my imagination. Mounds of flesh molded itself on my chest, forming breast, hips flare as the hip bones expand, hairs extend and turn brown and my penis shrunk, receding into my body, leaving a feminine slit behind.

Pleasure flows through my body as the transformation finalised, I stretch soft body and moaned as run my hands through the hair, my voice had returned, except now it’s feminine and honeyed. Man hearing it, will fall under its spell. Juno will be proud.

Wearing a red leather dress and the 3 inch open-toed heels, reminisce of my first crossdressing experience, I decided to sashay out of the room to greet my ‘sisters’. However, it is not the end. Daughters must not only look feminine but act feminine as well and I intend to show them my months of training.

Paying his Invoice


No spy is without his or her gadgets and the Chameleon was no exception to that rule. Whether his operations were state sponsored, backed by corporations or even funded by rich or poor individuals, there was only one man he turned to when it came to low-cost but ingenious spy tools: Elijah Mendel, a young twenty something engineer that loved tinkering and spy films. His place of residence? His basement, alone.

The Chameleon remembered the time he met Elijah, it was in some engineering convention that the Chameleon had to infiltrate in order to get closer to his target. Along the way, he bumped onto an unkempt Elijah Mendel who was fruitlessly showing off his ‘useless’ gadgets.

“Mostly useless,” the Chameleon recounted. Those same gadgets were crucial on how he managed to finish that particular assignment and that was how Elijah and the Chameleon business relationship started and flourished.

However, the partnership is not exactly normal. Elijah knew the Chameleon is a master of disguise and the Chameleon knew Elijah was too busy for a relationship, let alone talking to a girl. So in return for affordable, quality and exclusive gadget, the Chameleon got to be his girlfriend for a day or even longer depending on how exquisite the gadget is. The ‘girlfriend’ changed for every request, from celebrity to old crush and sometimes girls from his wildest wet dream.

The Chameleon smiled at that deal. Elijah was a simple man and the Chameleon liked him for that. Usually, people like him would be milked dry but the Chameleon preferred a lasting business relationship, he had enough enemies around him already.

The Chameleon stared at his latest creation, Mrs Roth, Elijah’s 7th grade English teacher. With arms akimbo, he lectured at his own reflection in a feminine briton accent. “Mr Mendel, not doing your homework again? Very well,” her whole demeanor changed as she smirked with lustful eyes, “looks like I have to punish you,”

Satisfied with the performance, the fake Mrs Roth took her purse, time to pay my invoice, the Chameleon thought.

Martha for a Day


When my grandfather died, he gave me something weird. The “Medallion of Zulo” as identified by his will. So while his family and relatives received material wealth and properties, I got an unremarkable medallion.

What a grandfather.

But he was always weird, collecting antique and such. Even when he found out about my crossdressing habits, he never bat an eyelid and promised to keep a secret.

What a grandfather indeed.

That changed however when I decided to raid Martha's, my cousin, wardrobe again. She recently bought a thigh high boots and I wanted to try it on for size. Slipping into her white panties, black tights, donning a black tight sweater dress (my favourite) and finally, the leather thigh high boots, I decided to wear the medallion as well, thinking that it would match the clothing. There, I found my body transformed; my hair lengthened and turned dark brown while my body shrank and distorted into a lithe feminine figure. Tits grew while my dick withdrew. Hair lengthened and turned a darker shade of brown while I felt my facial feature changed and realigned by some unknown force. Not the most pleasant feeling, mind you.

When the transformation completed, I had never felt so snugly in my cousin’s clothes before, like as if it was made to fit me but looking at the mirror, it was me who was changed to fit my cousin’s clothes. In fact, I am my cousin now, even the voice sounds the same.

It was then the weird inheritance suddenly made sense. That devious old man knew all this along. Damn you, you dead glorious bastard!

Posing in front of my cousin’s mirror, I could not help but smirked at the possibilities of this gem. Who should I try next, my sister, mother, the neighbours, my classmates? So many faces went through my mind, each of them more enticing than the next but I stopped myself. They could wait but now, as I leered my cousin’s reflection, time to take this to the next level.

Social Butterfly


Matt Hold is never one who hangs around with people. When you ask his colleagues about him, they will say he is a nice, quiet kid, a bit creepy and awkward but when for anything IT related, you can count on ole’ Matt to fix it. After which, they will grumble about his privilege of working from home.

When you ask his neighbours about him, they will say the same thing, nice quiet but creepy and awkward. After which, they will grumble about his hot girlfriend, Ericka. Man would be bewildered by how a shut-in will get such a hot girlfriend while women will gossip how inappropriately dressed she is sometime.

When you ask his girlfriend about him, she will smile and say that they are not exactly a couple. Matt is just a very good friend and although she knows Matt never socialises much, she assures you that Matt is not a creepy serial killer, just an introvert that likes to spend time alone.

That is true and Matt hates himself for that. He wants to be more sociable and likable and most importantly, he wants to be the center of the crowd. So he turns to Ericka for help, except Ericka is a mask and a realistic bodysuit; a cocoon to shelter Matt’s ego and an outlet for him to be bold and daring. It took him time and money to perfect the art of femininity: the voice, the posture, the walk and the mannerism but at the end, it was worth it. The attention, the opportunities and the intimacy he get is what he wanted, a social butterfly courted by many.

And so here Matt is, comfortably encased in his silicone persona, talking about himself. He is enjoying the attention that you are giving him and as you are about to leave, Matt stopped you. In a practiced, dulcet feminine tone, he asked “we can talk later if you want to, do you wish to talk over a cup of coffee?”  

What’s your reply?

Chameleon: The Perfect Heist

This was supposed to be saga which includes an earlier work, The Masterplan but I stopped due to writer’s block. Also, readers may have noticed similarities to Kendall's Disguised as an Angel which is a gorgeous cap by the way (do read it if you have not).


Part 1:
The Eyes of Lovelace, a ring worth of many fortunes. Rarely seen, this necklace would be finally unveiled to the public in an upcoming charity event. Many admired it, few wanted it for their own including the Chameleon's client.

The Chameleon was no stranger to a heist but when he reviewed the security and itinerary of the event, it had dawned on him why his client wanted him to do this.

First thing was to get close to the host family. Particularly, the Chameleon was interested in the young master, Aldric Armistead, a sheltered mommy’s boy who never really saw the outside world much. So with eager hands, the Chameleon started his work.

After three weeks, the stage is set and the Chameleon was ready to bring Aldric’s potential partner-to-be out to the world. Finishing squeezing himself to the tight corset and flesh girdle, he wore the specialised flesh-toned bodysuit that he had made for this occasion, its texture no different to a young woman’s skin.  The skin encased his whole body, covering his false padding and modifications; the tightness was  unbearable but the Chameleon had grown to enjoy this. Small perky tits, lithe and feminine body; smooth, young and supple skin, slightly marred with blemishes (something the Chameleon took pain to add for the sake of realism) greeted the Chameleon's mirror but it was not done.

The Chameleon took a face off of the dressing table and from the opening, he put it on and secured it around his head. Adjusting his new face, the Chameleon proceeded to put on a dirty blonde wig, a favourite of the young master, and examine himself in the mirror. The young woman in the mirror mimicked his every gesture like a puppet. Covering the seam with a special flesh-toned cream, the shell is complete. The Chameleon had superficially become Velma Tanner.

Crafting the perfect partner was a bit of challenge. The Chameleon knew his overbearing mother would scrutinise Aldric’s partner so first impression counted and that meant her looks, demeanor and gestures; something innocent would disarm all observers and looking into the mirror, the Chameleon knew he had nailed it.

Next was her clothings. Preparing to change, the Chameleon allowed Velma personality to surface, his identity quickly replaced to that of a meek, innocent 28 years old; his demeanor became gentle, his gait mellowed to a slower pace, the body’s hip swaying to imitate that of a woman and the gestures becoming more feminine. Finally, Velma had arrived.

Picking up the white stocking, Velma relished the feeling of silk against her soft skin as she rolled it up her leg and carefully secure it with the garterbelt. Velma then proceeded to wear the white lacy panties, the lace fitted snugly and felt sensual against her nether region. Once done, Velma finally put on the white backless evening gown, a slit on the side would reveal her toned leg, throwing subtle hints that Velma may not be little miss innocent after all.

Looking in the mirror, Velma smiled and posed. White. The colour of purity and virginity. Traits that would definitely appeal not only to the young master but the overbearing mother as well. The trojan horse was set however would the Armistead allowed her in?

Part 2

It had been 1 month after Velma was welcomed into the Armistead family. However, the heist had just only begun. Velma was merely the trojan horse, a bait for a bigger fish: Emilie Armistead, mother of Aldric Armistead and matriarch of Armistead family. For those 3 months, the Chameleon closely scrutinised Emilie under his silicone disguise, her mannerism, behaviour, habit, routines, schedules, personality and voice, all detailed and noted by the observant imposter-to-be. Getting close to the reclusive Armistead family not only allows him to do all that but also to take the mould of her face and body.

On the day before a charity event hosted by the Armistead family, the Chameleon was ready for the next phase. Under his Velma disguise, he had earlier lied about a family emergency and regretted not being able to attend the charity ball. The night before Velma left, the Chameleon invited Emilie for some wine in her hotel room. Bringing Emilie’s favourite wine, Emilie would definitely have no reason to reject the Chameleon. Spiking it with sedative, Emilie would definitely have no reason to reject to the Chameleon replacing her as well.

After a few minutes of idle chatter over the wine, Emilie fell to a deep slumber. Checking her pulse and reaction, the Chameleon started to strip. The disguise was stripped off quickly and reaching under his bed, he took out tools of his trades: a corset, a crotchless girdle, a pair of breast form specially tailored to Emilie’s size and shape, the bodysuit, wig and finally, the mask. The foundation was first donned, the corset, girdle and breast form, shaping his male figure into that of a feminine one. Next, was the bodysuit which the Chameleon meticulously wore, covering himself with soft, smooth and human-like silicone, its skin tone and imperfection identical to that of Emilie’s. Last was the mask and wig. The mask was lovingly crafted from Emilie’s mould, her wrinkles, blemishes, eyelashes and even eyebrows carefully copied from the original. Nothing was left unchecked, even the small bump at the back of her earlobe was copied as well.

When the Chameleon opened his eyes, he liked what he saw in the mirror, a naked Emilie Armistead, her movement followed the Chameleon’s commands and her facial expression mimic whatever the Chameleon wished. It was perfect, nobody would know. Satisfied with his handiwork, the Chameleon proceeded to finish the impersonation: replicating the real Emilie’s makeup, stripping of her clothes and wearing them. The Chameleon reveled in how snug the blue silk panties fit around his padded hips and relished the feeling of silk of her black stockings. Donning the rest of the attire on, he tied and gagged the still sleeping Emilie up while injecting a fresh dose of sedative in her, hopefully enough to last till the next day. And with that, the false Emilie left the hotel room.

That day, nobody suspected a thing when Emilie returned. Not even her husband when he was in the mood for some intimacy. The imposter brushed him aside exactly like how the original would initially, moaned like how the original would when the husband fondled the imposter’s fake clit, teased her husband’s weak spots like what the original revealed during her drunken stupor, imitate her climax perfectly in their favourite position.     

The next day came and the charity ball would soon began. The fake Emilie started to don her evening dress, the garment the original intended to wear, the Chemeleon knew of course, he picked it out for her as Velma on one of the shopping trip. Despite the bodysuit, the fake Emilie could mentally feel the silkiness of the gown, how it glided across the silicone skin as she wore it. The richness of the red in her dress would be attention grabbing. Additionally with her alluring, confident aura and dignified pose, both of which the imposter had spent most of the time practicing, the presence of the Armistead family would be felt and omniscience in the ballroom. That was of course according to the Chameleon's plan, the more eyewitnesses, the better.

Once she donned the black evening gloves, she moved onto the zenith of the evening: the Eye of Lovelace. Under the deepest secrecy only known by Mr Armistead, the ring was transported to the Armistead household from the impregnable vault of a Swiss bank. Only for high profile occasion such as this would the Armistead family exposed the Thus, this ruled out the traditional heist. Additionally, the Armistead family members were surrounded by bodyguards at all times except if they wish for privacy, so traditional kidnapping was out as well. So the only way was trickery and deceit, both of which the Chameleon excelled at. The fraud Emilie admired the unnatural cyan glow of the jewel, the prime reason for its exquisity and exorbitant price. However, it was not the latter of which the Chameleon’s client valued. It was its haunting beauty that attracted it, this the Chameleon understood. Too bad, he was not interested despite his fascination with the opposite sex.

Crossing her nylon clad leg, the imposter smirked. The next day after the ball was over, she will perform her disappearing act using another set of disguise that she had prepared under the watchful eyes of her bodyguard. An ‘anonymous’ tip-off will disclose where the real Emilie was all this while and with so many people witnessing the fake Emilie on the ball, it would be impossible to cover up her replacement without embarrassing the Armistead family. By the time the Armistead family launched a manhunt for Velma, the Chameleon would be half a world away, preparing his next mission.

The Stepford Affairs


How does one infiltrate a recently found secret society whose members are young billionaires and influential figures in their respective industries?

While most other intelligence agencies would bug the crap out of their mansions or even insert agents under minor cover into their midst, Agent Vann would like to think otherwise. “You see,” he proposed to his superior, “if you not only want to know what they are doing, you have to get close to them figuratively, and literally.”

And so the plan begins, funds are low, manpower is scarce and the highe-ups are doubtful of Vann’s crazy idea but Vann shrugged, he has expected this and getting approval was merely a formality

Appreciating the fine furnishing of the toliet he is currently in, he snaps himself out of it and strips naked, exposing his lean, androgynous body. Despite his genes granting him a short and lithe body, he still have to go through a strict regime of diet and exercise to make sure his body doesn’t turn too muscular or obese. It has been tough but he is sure that the result will speak for itself.

He then proceeded to put on his breast form, a modest C-cup to say the least. Vann would have preferred them bigger but his mission had spoken otherwise, else he would stand out too much. Satisfied with the position of the breast form, he proceeded to put on the hip pads. This with the breast form will create a silhouette of femininity however, it doesn’t end here.

With great anticipation, Vann takes out a piece of bodysuit. Feeling the softness and elasticity of the suit, he could not help but marvel at this fine piece of engineering. ‘R&D had really outdone themselves this time,’ he thought as he puts it on, squeezing and smoothing any wrinkles that creased along the suit. When it’s all done, he looks into the mirror and grins. Staring back at him is a willowy body, its breast, full and soft, its skin, smooth and fair and its nether region, flat and void of any masculinity that was present; instead, only a slit and trimmed bush hides its engorged member. However, what marvels Vann was not the perfections but rather the imperfections; the acnes and blemishes even the vein was painstakingly added and detailed, exactly what Vann specified.

Yet, the transformation is not complete as what he sees is that of a grotesque human, a female body with the head of a man. ‘Time for a disappearing trick,’ Vann smiled as he pulls out his triumph card.

The mask stares back at him, hollowed but lifelike. Hair was attached to the mask so as to prevent wig lines. After putting in the dentures and blue contact lenses, Vann puts the mask over his head and he felt the persona that he has trained himself for months washed over him. Vann Colton is washed away and in turn, bringing a Caitlin Henson in. The transformation is complete.

When Caitlin opens her eyes, she is disturbed by how she looks, her hair was a mess and her face was void of make-up. A person of a status should not walk around like that at all! Combing her hair and reveling in the silkiness of it, she calls a number on a rather unremarkable phone.

“It’s done. 30 minutes,” her voice was deep and gravel, uncharacteristic of her sweet face. Hanging up, she exits the bathroom to carry out the final phase of the plan. On her bed was a sleeping figure, her face, body and hair are identical to Caitlin's. In fact, one would be convinced that she’s Caitlin's clone, much less a twin. ‘And soon, there would only be one Caitlin,’ Caitlin smirks as she starts tying her twin. In 30 minutes time, her clone would be sent off to a faraway place and the imposter would take her place as the wife of the billionaire, Adam Kaufmann.

Picking up the phone, Caitlin knows she has to call her hubby as part of her routine to report to that ‘paranoid old man’ as she remembered in her conversation with the housewives of Adam’s inner circle of friends. How does she know? Why she’s Caitlin, of course she knows.

“Hi honey, how are you? Aw, you miss me, that’s cute. Well, I miss you too, can’t wait for you to come back. Eh, what did I do today?” Caitlin tilted her head, gone was the masculine voice and replaced was a sweet voice of british descent. “I, I got a makeover. Oh yes. A makeover. I will send you a selfie later,” Caitlin replies, her tone conveying mischief and lust.

Behind every successful man is a woman, so what if you replace that woman? That is the point of Operation Stepford, to wield the powerful influences of these men through where they care the most, their loved ones. This secret club of wealthy people is the starting point and if Vann makes it, this could expand to other areas as well, tipping global politics to the agency’s favour.

“But what if I don’t make it?” Caitlin thought as she puts on a tight white teddy, “well, I will enjoy it anyway,” she smiles as she prepares for the next day.