Sunday, September 13, 2015

The Devil to Pay

 Cruising at 75 mph, winding in-and-out of a scenic mountain pass, in a perfectly-tuned ride that was as agile as a cat on the prowl... this was what freedom felt like... Suddenly, a loss of control, a spin, a slamming of brakes and the sharp "clang" of a breached guardrail, and the car sailed out, into oblivion.

 All at once, Hank Barlow found himself disoriented. Where was he? And why did his body seem so... strange? A patch of black ice on the road, that January afternoon, had ended his joy-ride... sending his muscle car hurtling off a high cliff... that's the last thing he could remember. Thankfully, he never felt the horrible impact of the crash that had sent him into Death's waiting embrace. Now he was standing in some sort of steamy, cavernous void, painted in crimson light and deep shadow. The acrid, rotten-egg smell of sulfur assaulted his nostrils, and he heard the hiss of escaping gas and the soft roar of hidden flames all around him.

"Where am I? What is this place? What's happened to me?"

He could feel that his shoes were gone, as well as his normal clothing, and he was holding something in his hand... the light was still far too dim for him to make it out. A pole of some kind... a broom handle, maybe? Why?

 He seemed to be wearing something that clung to him snugly, softly hugging the contours of his lower body, from his toes up to his mid-waist. Above that point, he was now shirtless, and he sensed something else, possibly a small hat, was resting lightly atop his head. Most troubling of all, he felt as though something was missing from him, and at the same time, that there was a bit more of him than before, somehow. His mind was still in too much of a jumble to figure it out.

 "Where the fuck am I, anyw--" he started to say, and stopped short, as the first of his words echoed in his ears. His voice was far too high, too soft and too breathy to be his own. It was the voice of a winsome young woman... so much like the women that he--...

 Suddenly, a ghostly head, easily three times larger than his own, and crowned with the twin horns of a ram, materialized. It hung in the air near him, translucently, visible in its own faint glow, and began to speak, in tones that seemed to reverberate from everywhere, both within him and around him. "Welcome to Hell, Mr. Barlow. We've been expecting you for quite some time now."

 Stunned, Hank gaped at the disembodied phantom in disbelief, his mouth quivering in a mute stammer.

 Undoubtedly Satan himself, the devilish apparition continued, in reserved, pedantic amusement. "Surprised? Ha-ha-ha... oh yes, Mr. Barlow... despite claims to the contrary from some of the more arrogant and misguided souls back in your former, physical world, I can assure you that Hell is very real indeed. And we have a very special part of our infernal landscape reserved just for the likes of you, sir... that is to say, for brutal serial rapists. Since you had carefully evaded punishment in life, you probably thought that there was no price to pay for your crimes after death. However, that's where you're quite wrong."

 As if to underscore his point, Satan's eyes traveled down Hank's body, and he was compelled to follow their lead, as a few columns of flame suddenly flared up around them, to better illuminate their surroundings. A full-length mirror, ornately-framed in serpentine bars of black wrought-iron, materialized before them, in a burst of fiery smoke. Considering his altered voice, what he now encountered really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, as he gazed both down at himself in the improved light, and at the reflection staring back at him. Nonetheless, the sight made his jaw drop further. It was truly his worst nightmare.

 All he could manage for a vocal response was a soft, whimpering, "N-N-Nooooo...", as tears began to well up in his eyes.

 Satan grinned at him malevolently, and continued to goad him. "Yes, take a nice, long  look at yourself.... it's not quite the familiar form you're used to, is it, Mr. Barlow? A far cry from the imposingly six-foot-five, 250-pound, testosterone-fueled hulk of a man that you... were. A human monster, who has made countless women suffer through your sexual and physical assaults, including driving more than one to suicide, not to mention more than a few murders by your hand --to feed your hatred, and your mania for domination over practically any female you'd meet... especially the young, pretty ones. That's how you desperately maintained your fragile sense of manhood, isn't that right?" His smile drew wider, as his sinister eyes shifted into a mocking leer. "Behold, Mr. Barlow-- now you are such a girl yourself, with your male mind permanently trapped within! You are only five feet tall, outwardly girlish in all aspects, and a virgin.... so soft and weak and deliciously vulnerable!"

 Well-known as the Prince of Lies, Satan's words, in this case, were nevertheless absolutely true for Hank Barlow. The mirror image staring back at him displayed a petite, delicate, fair-skinned girl with a baby-face, looking no older than 21. The snug garment he wore was a pair of crimson tights, with red sequins that both circled the high waistline, and ran in squiggly seams down the outside edge of both legs, from curvy hip to tiny ankle. They weren't much different than pantyhose, highlighting every feminine curve. A fake devil tail of red satin was attached to the back, just above his round, teardrop bottom, and the "hat" was a matching set of faux devil horns. The "broom" he thought he was holding turned out to be a trident, albeit a harmless prop version... like something you'd find at a costume shop. In this grim, literal Hell, to add further insult to injury, he was made to look like a silly little cosplay poser version of a she-devil!

 The horror mounting, Hank looked at himself more closely. His eyes were now the eyes of a doe, larger in proportion to the rest of his face and festooned with black-mascara lashes and thinner, styled brows, which were currently upswept in a display of sweetly-pathetic surprise and worry. His nose was small and cutely turned up, and the pouting, puffy red lips surrounding his pretty little mouth resembled a couple of brilliant rose petals. What had once been a hard, threatening mask of masculine toughness, was now cherubic, vaguely child-like, and lovely... framed by a short, wavy, adorably "retro" hairstyle, replacing his former stark, shaved head. He was now a strawberry blonde.

 Likewise, below the weakened chin, his creamy, hairless body was also exclusively, and unmistakably, feminine. A mild layer of body fat now girlishly softened his entire diminutive frame. No Adam's apple was to be found gracing his slender neck. Round, narrow shoulders led to skinny, muscle-free arms. The nails at the end of his little fingers were longer, manicured, and coated in glossy red polish.

 Full round breasts, larger than Hank's dainty hands could fully cover, hung buoyantly from his scaled-down chest, their large pink nipples pointing perkily upward. His wasp-waist curved inward, before flaring dramatically outward at the hips and ass, then inward again as his shapely thighs gradually tapered down to his knees, and yet again as the rounded curves of his calves tapered into slender ankles and tiny feet. The muscular, washboard stomach he had developed, from countless hours of working out at the gym, was now a smooth "pooch" of a woman's tummy; nearly flat, but completely lacking in definition. Below it, where his cock should normally be, was a simple Y-shaped crease; the small mound of a pussy, flanked by soft inner thighs.

 He was also finding that, more often than not, he held his hands in limp-wristed poses, with his pinkie fingers outstretched. The very way he held his hands up to his face in surprise, resulted in a pose that practically screamed "prissy girl"; his arms pressed up against his chest, wrists touching each other as he cradled his chin in his small palms, while his pigeon-toed legs knocked together at the knees, the weight put on on one leg causing the opposing hip to jut out, noticeably. He also saw that he was standing up on his toes, as if wearing invisible heels.

 So this was his punishment. He wasn't just a woman... he had been reshaped into a cute, helpless little sissy of a girl, like some silly hybrid of Betty Boop and a Gil Elvgren pin-up model from a 1950s service station calendar. A silly little girly stereotype, who would be respected by no one.

 Satan chuckled, and his lips twisted into a sarcastic sneer, as his eyes sparkled with malicious glee, darting over to a space just beyond where Hank was standing. "Now take a look behind you, my dear..."

 Hank could now hear the dull slap of heavy bare feet upon the cavern floor, drawing steadily closer. He turned, and looking up, saw something that made him nearly choke in revulsion and terror. It was the looming figure of what appeared to be a huge man, well over seven feet tall, larger than even Hank had been, before the start of this unnerving, supernatural turn of events. Completely nude, and made of solid muscle, it resembled a sinister figure of Atlas, its bare skin as hellishly red as their subterranean environment, and glistening with sweat. Its eyes were a featureless glow of bright yellow, shining out of fleshy sockets, and the stubby nubs of horns grew from its temples. Most distressing of all, this hyper-masculine being sported a huge, erect penis, easily a foot long and probably a good ten inches in diameter, pointed threateningly at his nice round ass, like an arrow at a target. Hank gasped in abject fear of being violated, getting an inkling of what his own victims must've thought, just before he had violently fucked them.

 "Yes, 'Miss' Barlow, what you fear is going to happen to you next is just what is going to happen. This is one of my demonic minions, and they all come in this impressive size. Over the course of eons, I've been raising an army of them, you see, for the day when we once again rise up and storm the gates of Heaven. Though I have the power to simply materialize them, I think it's much more sporting, and amusing, to breed them... using women, like you, who are among the Damned." 

 The giant demon paused for a moment, to stretch and flex its muscles, like a bodybuilder striking a "circus strongman" pose... clearly done to establish an air of extreme male dominance over its female prey, which was superfluous. At his reduced height and build, Hank felt nearly like a child in its presence...  his head didn't even reach as far up as its chest! With his soft curves and involuntary feminine demeanor --which he internally fought all the way, to no avail-- Hank suffered the most devastating blow possible to his stridently male ego. The behemoth stared down at him and flashed an evil grin, licking its feral teeth with a long, wicked tongue. It grabbed its huge cock in one hand, and began to squeeze and stroke it a little, until a lubricating dribble of oily black pre-cum soon oozed from its tip. Hank wanted nothing more than to flee, but his transformed body defiantly craved a hard fucking, and his cunt became suitably moistened for slick entry.

"Now take a good look behind you, "Miss" Barlow... and see what your eternal fate has in store!"

Satan continued to mock him, compounding the horror yet to come. "This is but the beginning of your torment, 'Miss' Barlow. No peace will ever be yours. Each day, you will find yourself repeating the shock and confusion of suddenly becoming this girl in Hell for the very first time; the exact same emasculating shame and humiliation you're now feeling because of it." He paused for a moment, allowing that to sink in... then added, pointedly, "You won't even be allowed the minor solace of your former memories. You'll remember what you've done, of course, all the crimes and evils you've still actually committed, and that you were a man, but..." he continued, his evil smile growing bigger, "...when you try to picture yourself that way, looking back throughout your Earthly existence, your mind will now paint a dramatically different picture for you. Go ahead, try and see yourself as a big male ruffian again... if you can."

 Hank, bristling at being addressed now as 'Miss', did try... shuffling through the mental scrapbook of his former life, as the giant behind him prepared to mount and rape him. He thought back to his days as a young boy, the biggest and toughest kid in grade school, threatening other children for their lunch money and other acts of bullying. But now, as he recalled every incident of his juvenile cruelty playing out, or simply any male-oriented activity he enjoyed as a boy, he saw himself suddenly shrinking down in front of the people around him... changing into a cutesy, little-girl version of the woman he resembled now. Becoming smaller and weaker than the other kids, even the other girls. He was wearing a frilly little pinafore dress, his hair in pigtail curls tied with pink ribbons, and spoke with a pronounced lisp. Inevitably, he'd be teased, ridiculed, slapped, pushed to the ground and sent running home in tears.

 "Ha-ha! You think you're gonna take my lunch money, 'Hank'? Who do you think you're pushing, you little sissy?"

 "Hey look, you guys! Hank the little fairy got his secret wish! He's a real girl now! Go away and play with your dolls, 'Henrietta', you little pansy! Hahahaha!"

 "Awww... is the baby-girl gonna cry now?"

 "Yeah, run home to your mommy, you little crybaby!"

 He'd see himself doing just that, fleeing in tears to what was now a canopy bed, full of stuffed animals and dolls, jumping onto it and sobbing into a lacy pillow, as some of his tormentors would re-appear, laughing and pointing at him through the window of his girly, pink-themed bedroom.

 His high school memories were now even worse. Triumphs of early manhood became humiliating spectacles of his spontaneous transformation into a cute, petite redhead in front of his friends and classmates. Nerds he mercilessly picked-on suddenly became, relatively speaking, his physical superiors, in a turning-of-tables that also allowed them their first chance to kiss and grope a girl, with no fear of consequences.

 "I knew it! You always wanted to be a girl, didn't you, 'Hank'! Dumb faggot!"

 "Haha! You call that limp little girly slap a 'punch', you silly little bitch? Maybe you shouldn't pick fights with guys, if you don't wanna get hurt!"

 "The silly tranny homo probably just wants to suck our cocks! Maybe we should let her!"

 In team sports, games won were now lost, as he'd become this stereotypically-girlish female at crucial moments, preventing him from throwing properly, catching, or running fast enough. He'd unavoidably be called out of the game for being a girl playing on a boy's team, violating the official rules, as his teammates cursed him and made cat-calls, and the crowd roared with laughter and boos.
 "Nice going, 'Hank', we just lost because of you... you stupid little cow! You can 'take one for the team', when we get back to the locker room. Then you can try out for cheerleader, on the sidelines, where prissy little airheads like you belong!"

 Worst of all were his dating memories, which had originally been his first taste of what would become his life-long hobby of rape and assault... and eventually, murder. Now they were a gauntlet of sexual frustration and extreme, emasculating embarrassment. He'd arrive at a girl's front door, or about to make his move in the back seat of a car, his cock hard and eager for action... only to find himself suddenly shorter than her, baby-soft and dick-less. Their reactions were predictably crushing...

 "Is this a joke, 'Hank'? Maybe you should try asking out somebody on the football team... I've heard some of them talking about wanting to fuck you."

 "Do I look like a lesbian to you? Sorry, 'Hank', but I require my all dates to at least look like a boy and have a penis!"

 "Awwww... Why don't you find yourself a nice hot boyfriend, sweetie! You look like you could use one! Hahaha!"

 As an adult, he'd see himself in a back-room poker game with the usual bunch of rough customers sitting in, only to suddenly reduce and soften in front of them, into the sexy little Miss he now was in Hell. He could see his feminized self, dwarfed by his male companions, and now provocatively dressed in a tight, low-cut crop top and mini-skirt, all tits and ass and with no real fight in him; a full invitation for them to bend him over the table, which they were only too happy to accept.

"Well, well, well... looks like we've got a high roller with us tonight, boys... our buddy 'Hank' here has become a prime piece of ass! Who's up for a gang-bang, besides me?

"Oh yeahhh, I'd like to tap that just fine..."

 His many rape attempts would boomerang on him, as his would-be female victims found him shrinking down and matching their gender before he could really do anything to them, with their response being cruel laughter, followed by hair-pulling, bitch-slapping, face-scratching and his having the shit kicked out of him. Some of them would even go so far as to rape him, in revenge, with whatever hand-held penetrating object was handy.

 "What did you think you were gonna do to me, huh, you sick creep? Now that it seems you're a femmy little twat yourself, I think I'll kick your fat ass, you evil fucking bitch!"

 "You were gonna try and rape me, asshole? Ha! That'll be the day, 'Missy'! Maybe this zucchini up that new snatch of yours will teach you a lesson, you stupid little cunt!"

 After the fact, he was well-aware that none of these Earthly gender-morphing events actually happened to him. As he was reliving them, however, they seemed so incredibly real, with his true persona from those times frustratingly inaccessible; just a vague impression that he had stolen from this kid, scored that winning touchdown, pummeled this guy or raped that woman --with an alternate-reality exercise in feminized failure and humiliation taking its place.

"Oh my fucking God, No! No!! I can't take it!! Please make it stop!!" he cried, nearly going insane from this insidious messing with his mind.

Satan blithely tut-tutted his protests. "Now, now... there's no God to save you down here, I'm afraid, 'Miss' Barlow. You are beyond any possible redemption. Raping that order of nuns and dumping their murdered bodies down a mine shaft, --and getting away with it-- alone saw to that." he paused, tilting his ethereal head up a little and arching an eyebrow, adding, with a smirk, "I must say, I applaud your blasphemous initiative, but you must bear in mind that Hell isn't designed to be an alternative Heaven for evil men... or in your present case, evil sluts... it's a place for your eternal damnation and punishment. Speaking of which--"

 Hank heard a few more creeping footsteps behind him, and now felt the unsettling warmth of a body standing mere inches away from his back. The demon! He had been so distracted by the horrors of his false memories, that he momentarily forgot this huge humanoid beast was right there, preparing to fuck him! Hands, twice the size of his, suddenly grabbed hold of him, pawing and groping his hips, ass and breasts. Big stubby thumbs circled his erect nipples, repeatedly brushing and pressing down on them, as the giant roughly kneaded his soft, ample tits. He could feel the hot throb of its huge cock pressing against the crack of his ass, the warm stickiness of the pre-cum seeping through the thin fabric of his tights, smearing both soft cheeks of his alarmingly-expansive bottom. It made his flesh crawl, and he felt nauseous. As violently opposed to this as his mind was, he found his body yielding, his pussy getting wetter and wetter. Another of Satan's evil tricks! He's made this female body independently, heterosexually willing!

Hank let out a frightened gasp, quickly trying to cover his crotch, as he felt the demon's wandering hands suddenly grab hold of his hips and rip the flimsy tights effortlessly from his tiny body. The faux trident clattered uselessly to the floor. His delectable, peaches-and-cream body was now as completely naked as his unearthly rapist, who continued to fondle him all over. One large hand slithered in-between his thighs from behind, and plunged a probing index finger into his tight new twat, feeling around inside. It was as long and thick as a normal-sized, erect penis, brushing harshly against Hank's little clit and immediately popping his cherry. Hank let out shrill, woman's scream.

 While there are some out there, male and female alike, who might've found this rough sexual treatment thrilling... to Hank, it was all a waking nightmare. His body was extremely aroused, but his mind and sense of self-identity were like the opposing pole of a magnet. He desperately wanted any kind of escape or relief from this torment, but there was none to be had; all routes of flight were blocked. His messed-up memory bank was a horrifyingly-equal domain of extreme suffering.

 Just then, the demon's hands clamped tightly around his slight waist, encircling it fully, and hoisted him up off the ground, as easily as someone might lift a pet cat. Hank hadn't been picked up by anyone since he was much more than a toddler, and the emasculating feeling that it inspired in him now was a new, devastating low. It was about to get much worse. Hank's shapely, ladylike legs wiggled and kicked helplessly at the air, finding no targets, and promising no real defensive force if they had. And then he was brought down --literally impaled in mid-air on the demon's monstrous cock. Hank's ears were filled with the piercing sound of his own blood-curdling soprano screams.

 In the midst of his shock, Hank's pussy surprised him with its ability to stretch and accommodate something so big, but it was cold comfort, as he still felt like he was going to be split in two. He grimaced, and thought he was going to be sick, when he discovered that he could feel the beast's pulse beating inside him, from its throbbing dick through the slick walls of his pussy. The humiliation of being fully-fucked as a woman, taking the entirety of a hot, pulsating penis up his vagina and deeply into him, to the extreme of feeling its tip bump forcefully up against the back wall of his womb, was a level of shame pushed beyond all limits. His feet weren't even touching the ground. The demon was large and powerful enough, and Hank's female form was small enough, that the demon didn't need to brace Hank against anything. It could simply fuck him while holding him in the air, with the ease of an average man humping a fleshlight.

 Now the lifting and thrusting grew increasingly harder and more vigorous. Hank felt like he was a flailing rag-doll with a bomb sewn-up inside, about to explode. The air was thick with his high-pitched cries and moans. Blasts of demon breath were blowing hotly onto his neck and shoulders and he could feel large drops of sweat fall from its upper body and dot his back like the start of rain. The behemoth grunted, and Hank could feel a tremor run through the driving penis inside him. He knew just what it was, from when he used to be the one doing the fucking. A massive orgasm spread through Hank's feminine body, but in his current mental state, it was as welcome and enjoyable as the fall of a guillotine's blade. His soul died as he felt the hot, wet explosion of sticky jism fill his cavity. As with everything else with this beast, it was so much more... enough evil black seed to fill a large soup bowl. It burned in his womb like acid, and most of it leaked out of his snatch and ran down the gentle curves of his legs. Hank cried like a baby.

 With a deep guttural sigh, the giant demon finally pulled Hank off its softening member and dropped him, sobbing, to the floor... like a discarded toy, whose novelty had just worn off. Then it slowly walked away, into the shadows of the smoldering cavern's long corridor. Satan's head, still observing, let out a hearty laugh. "So, 'Miss' Barlow, that was your first. How did you like it, hmm? Perhaps as much as all of those women you yourself had so violently raped?"

 After spending a few moments crumpled-up in grief and exhaustion on the cavern floor, Hank rose weakly to his hands and knees, trembling. He could only glare at the Prince of Darkness with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lower lip, like an angry, disgraced child who'd just endured a harsh spanking. But then he fell violently ill, vomiting up a mass of bile.

 "Oh, messy, messy, "Miss' Barlow. That's no way for a proper young lady to behave... unless, of course, she's... not been careful." said Satan, feigning concern, and adding a little sting on the end for his captive to decipher.

 Hank immediately caught on, and covered his mouth to hold back another scream, his horror freshly renewed. It was at that moment that his belly began to swell. He stood up, his little hands clutched at his stomach, as it rapidly ballooned outward, gaining weight and heft in seconds, increasingly putting strain on his lower back. His navel inverted from the building pressure, becoming an "outie", looking like a displaced third nipple. As for his actual nipples, 'mother's milk' began to ooze from them, dribbling down his already-buxom breasts, which had just increased another cup-size. Accelerated pregnancy! Hank could already feel a small, second heartbeat thumping down deep in there, and several slight kicks, which started to hurt. Within moments, he'd come to full term.

 Before he could fully react, his water broke. Hank fell back to his knees, in agony from contractions that were building, occurring closer and closer together. He tumbled further onto his back, laying there on the cavern floor, in discomfort, his legs bent and splayed apart. Craning his neck forward, he tried to see past his bulging, pregnant belly, but it was no use. Pain, like he had never experienced before, suddenly shot through his body, as he was involuntarily forced to push his demon offspring out. He could feel the head emerging slowly from his dilated cunt, and the sensation of two little hands creeping through and taking hold of his labial lips from the inside, in a leveraged effort to crawl out of him as he pushed. And it hurt; oh God, did it hurt, with steadily-increasing intensity. The thing was already larger than an average, human newborn --that, he could tell, as its head was already visible now, beyond the horizon of his distended tummy. The demon baby wasn't just crawling out of him, it was growing out. The pain, already horrible, went off the charts. Hank cried and wailed like he was about to die in the most excruciating way possible, as if that was even an option anymore.

 Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the creature fully emerged, at last. Hank's belly subsided, along with most of the pain, apart from some sharp, residual spasms from his vagina. It looked like a miniature version of its abominable father, only squatter, and with a larger head in proportion to its body --crimson skin, nubs of two horns, and eyes that were a yellow, featureless glow. It was the size of a human three-year-old, and Hank could see it continue to grow, both in height and build, before his disbelieving eyes. Within moments, it was nearly four feet tall, and it suddenly grabbed him and began to greedily suckle from his swollen, milk-heavy breasts. It was revolting and painful; sharp teeth pricking his sensitive titties, lips like wet liver and a hot, probing tongue, constantly attacking his nipples in a search for more milk, with some of his blood mixed in, for flavor.

 By the time it was completely sated, the spawn was Hank's size, then grew a bit larger, already physically dominant over its mother, and still growing rapidly. It took the opportunity to french kiss Hank, and grab his ass, as almost a way of saying, 'See you later... when I'll fuck you like Daddy did". Now it was six feet tall, with a large red dick swinging between its legs. It broke contact and trudged off in the direction its father had gone.

 Satan laughed malevolently, and offered withering praise... as well as a charted course for Hank's destiny. "Oh, good job, 'Miss' Barlow! You make an excellent mother... which is fortunate, because you have just experienced, in total, how your existence will play out here, from now on. That is to say, 'Miss' Barlow, that your eternal turmoil will be this cycle of acting as a sexual plaything and breed sow for Satan's Army. You will be constantly servicing and giving accelerated birth to endless demons, just as with those two. Most whom you deliver will eventually return, in due time, to impregnate you, themselves. And, as you might've guessed, your first demonic child has already implied this, with his lascivious behavior toward you, a moment ago."

 Further reiterating the horrifying terms of Hank's damnation, the Infernal One continued, smiling the frozen, insincere smile of a bored tour-guide on autopilot. "You should be aware that there are no actual days or nights in Hell, and certainly no rest... however... for you, 'Miss' Barlow, every twenty-four hours, it will be as I've stated previously: you will think that you've arrived here for the very first time, transformed into this virgin female, minus my direct presence. You won't know how or why you've become a small, sexy woman, but it will eventually become clear to you, over the course of each 'day'. Then you will reset back to square one again, reliving all this, throughout endless eternity." He then assumed a more poker-faced expression, and then tilted his floating head forward, as if to tip an invisible hat at the broken, self-loathing and thoroughly doomed young woman standing weakly before him. "Now, I must take my leave. I doubt we'll be having much further direct communication for quite some time. Anyway, you'll have much to occupy your time here. 'Enjoy' your fate, 'Miss' Barlow, and I bid you a fond adieu."

"No, Wait! Please!!" Hank cried out, ineffectually, to already-deaf ears.

 With that, the ghostly visage of the foremost fallen angel disappeared, in a fiery puff, leaving Hank alone to his feminized, shame-ridden misery. But only for the briefest of moments... as he once more heard the dull, beefy slap of huge feet on the cavern floor, advancing toward him, out of the darkness, with brutish, carnal intent. Its huge, erect cock emerged menacingly into the light, seeking its quarry, and Hank's mind cried out into the dark void...


  1. You write the absolute best stories, and your take on these captions are unique and a very rare glimpse into the humiliating part of the change... Well done!

  2. Thank you for your very kind comments, and I apologize for the tardy reply... my day job and the holidays have taken up all of my time. I do enjoy the humiliation angle, to an extent, it's true. It's at an extreme in this particular story, of course, due to its extra-dark, horror-story nature.

    I've seen, in other areas of the internet, some people complain about the focus on humiliation in TG transformation stories (not complaints about this blog's content in particular, but rather the general focus on the humiliation of feminization in the genre). While there is, naturally, nothing especially humiliating about being female in and of itself, I think the critics are missing the point. One, there is humiliation as fetish, so it's burned too deep into some of us, as a sexual fantasy thrill, that it's not something that's going to go away... just as some people's sexual obsession with black silk stockings, or being tied-up, isn't going away anytime soon.

    Two, while it certainly isn't humiliating to be female, if you were to take anyone, man or woman, who is generally comfortable and content in their their own life and skin --having had one frame of reference since birth-- and suddenly change them in a drastic way (size, age, gender, species, etc), one would assume they would experience some substantial degree of humiliation, at least in the short term, when dealing with other people and society at large. The rug has been pulled out from under them, and they are in largely foreign territory, without a map or book of instructions. Pretty fertile ground for an overwhelming sense of humiliation, I'd say.

    When I write this stuff, and I put myself in the shoes of the transformation victim, I imagine feeling a combination of fear, confusion, giddiness (maybe not in Hank Barlow's case, heh-heh) and awkwardness... which (in a fantasy context, anyway) is quite a turn-on, the delicious awkwardness of suddenly becoming sexually highly-desirable to the majority of the male gender you were recently a part of.