A Fairy Day's Wage For A Fairy Day's Work

 Shameless Patreon Plug

   There was always a foreboding atmosphere in the office when an employee was nearing retirement. There were fewer of the aging millennials every year, and even the older zoomers were starting to look at each other like frightened animals being led to slaughter.
The boss’ office had thick walls but you could still hear their raised voices. My old mentor, Daniel, was on his way out. It had come as a shock.
“Look, Danny boy, profits are way down on last year. You understand this isn’t personal. The company has to downsize, make cutbacks.”
“Downsize? Is that some sort of sick joke?”
“We’re offering you early retirement. You should be over the moon!”
“‘Offering’?”
“Offering...mandatory early retirement,” the boss corrected himself carefully.
Daniel's voice became low and threatening, and the admin team leaned forward in their chairs to catch his words. “You smug bastard. I’ve worked here forty years on the promise of a comfortable pension and you parasites repay me like this? Early retirement you call it? Throwing me back into the food chain, that’s what I call it! How much money does the government pay you for this?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
“How much?”
“There are… tax incentives if you must know. Oh, be reasonable, Daniel. You know the state the world is in. 12 billion mouths to feed, not enough resources. Nobody can afford to keep you retirees fed until you’re 180, or whatever the hell the lifespan is these days. We have to reduce our footprint somehow”
“‘Reduce our footprint’? One more joke out of you…”
“If you want to blame someone, take it to the government, not me. If you want to protest it, be my guest. But do it now before…”
“Before what? Before I’m ten fucking inches tall?!” Daniel roared
“There’s no need to get short with me- oof!”
That was the last thing he said before Daniel lamped him in the jaw and stormed out.
   He didn’t come in the next day, or the next. I packed up his desk and drove around to drop off the box and my sympathies at his house. His wife answered the door. She’d been crying. She had the air of someone at a funeral.
I didn’t see my old mentor again until the winter. It was snowing. I was half-asleep performing data entry when something tap-tap-tapped quietly at the window. I cracked the window and got him in from the snowy window ledge a moment before a crow swooped down to snag him. He perched on my lap, shivering, his ice-encrusted wings vibrating. I let him crawl under my shirt to get warm where he lay trembling against my chest.
“Retirement going well?”
“The wife found a new man,” he explained forlornly when he finally stopped shivering and emerged to stand on my knee. His naked left foot was perched right ontop of my dick but I politely pretended not to notice. “I couldn’t bear to stay in the house. I didn’t know where else to go.”
I fed him chunks of granola bar which he took with both hands, and gave him a bottle cap of pepsi. The government had found a way to reduce his footprint alright, as it had with 10 million other aging millennials, by transferring his consciousness into a vat-grown pixie body. At (generously) a quarter of his height as a man, he was expected to consume a 64th of the resources. It was one solution to the population crisis, and the animals that had taken to eating the retirees was the other solution. Most had spent their lives in the office environment, and had all the survival skills of accountants.
“Couldn’t you stay with your daughter?”
“She’s got a cat.”
“Oh. Well what about those retirement colonies they have?”
Daniel shook his head vehemently. “Not a million years. The only way they keep ahead of the death rate is their equally insane breeding rate, and I refuse to live in a fucking tree,” he snarled cutely, stamping his tiny bare foot. I wince. “Can I stay here with you? At least for the winter. I… I can be useful. I know excel… and… and powerpoint.”
I folded my jacket in the desk drawer as a makeshift bed and propped my phone against the side for him to use as a TV. How could I say no to those eyes? Or that tiny perky rack.

The Running of the Dolls

 

Shameless Patreon Plug

The Running of the Dolls is an affectionate term for the annual hazing event that takes place on campus at the start of each college year. All members of the fraternity are transfigured into semi-animate dolls before being deposited at random around the city, with the challenge being for initiates to make it back to the fraternity clubhouse in one piece, and with as few people seeing them as possible.
   Attempts to stamp out the humiliating, degrading and dangerous initiation have so far prooved unsuccessful and the event has become popular, with people turning out in their thousands to catch a sight of and ridicule the unfortunate dolls on their travels. In the interest of safety at least, it was mandated this year that each doll must come equipped with an Apple AirTag, allowing for the tracking of each person.
This measure proved tragically misguided.
We’d just about managed to waddle your way across the freeway and were a mile out from the campus when a black van screeched to a halt behind you. The side door swung open and a man jumped out, a phone in one hand and a sack in the other. You spotted a dozen bound wriggling forms in the van behind him.
“Found another. Like shooting fish in a barrel this year,” the man exclaimed to the drivers, bearing down far faster than you could shuffle in your silicone shell.
A knife carved an opening in your abdomen, an arm thrusting through to rummage around inside your hollow shell until it found the AirTag within, tossing it to the side of the carb before the sack was forced over your head. You were dragged into the van and tossed upon the squirming, whimpering pile.
You hoped against hope this was merely an elaborate prank that was part of the hazing. This hope vanished the moment your blindfold was removed and you discovered your limbless torso mounted like a hunting trophy alongside your fraternity brothers on this lunatic’s walls.

Putting The Men In Breast Augmentation

 Shameless Patreon Plug

The sequel to 

---------------------------
   For my 18th birthday I asked mom if I could get implants like hers. She smiled enigmatically. “Oh, you’ll never find a pair like these. But would you like them? I’m getting a little old for them now.”
It sounds icky having the implants she’s been carrying for nearly 20 years stitched into my breasts but they were the last gift dad ever gave her before he disappeared, just before mom remarried, and they have a lot of sentimental value for her (Or I think they do since I caught her talking to them one time). It seemed wrong for them to just be thrown out on the garbage heap so I said yes!
The surgeon examined them first of course (after all this time, they might have been split or damaged) but they were in perfect condition, like they could last another hundred years. Maybe when I have daughters or granddaughters of my own I’ll pass them down, like a family heirloom!
I love my new tits even if they are a bit big on my petite frame. Step-dad can’t take his eyes off them either. They jiggle more than I expected. They have a mind of their own sometimes, almost like they’re moving of their own accord, especially when I show them off to daddy. That's when they really start wriggling like crazy. I love watching the force of every thrust ripple through them whenever step-dad makes love to me.
But most importantly it feels good to have a gift from dad. Even if I never knew him, he’ll always be close to my heart.

The Life Of Lydia

Shameless Patreon Plug

   I’m sorry, Lydia. I know what you're thinking, I’m a terrible father. But you had such a perfect life, such a perfect body, that I couldn’t resist taking it. I felt terrible casting that spell but, on the plus side, nobody will ever know. You wouldn’t have any objections if I removed these clothes to examine my prize, would you?
Mmm perfection.
Here, let me retrieve you from where you’ve fallen. ‘The Life of Lydia’, what an amusing title! You don’t mind if I just flip through to the last page. Ah, it’s still being written! More magic! Let's see here... *clears throat*
“Lydia stared up in horror at the figure - her figure! It was her! Her own father within her body, while her soul had been evicted into this vessel of paper and glue. He stooped, picking her up from the flooor. She felt tiny within his hands. He was a giantess! Her leather spine creaked painfully as he spread her wide open, riffling roughly through the thin parchment that was now her entire being. ‘This can’t be happening’, Jessica screamed, though no sound could be heard. ‘This isn’t happening. Give me my body back!’”.
You make for such fascinating reading. I’m afraid your body is my body now, and reversal is quite out of the question. I suppose the kindest thing would be to burn you to free your soul from these pages but, alas, if I’m to take over your life, I need all the secrets written in these pages, access to your innermost thoughts. You don’t mind if I read through these memories, do you? I simply need to know how you and your husband first met.
Oh my, these pages are quite erotic. And with illustrations too! You naughty girl! Is this what I have to look forward to?
Hmm, what’s this you're writing now? “Lydia watched, hope kindling within her as her husband slipped quietly into the room. Unknowing of the theft of her body and life, the man’s dark eyes glittered lustfully at the sight of her father’s exposed, stolen ass. With amorous intent, her husband approached her father, and she saw the same dark lust alight in her father’s eyes as he read her thoughts, as he considered what was to come - his acquired womanhood impaled over and over on his own son-in-law's cock. Too late, Lydia realized her mistake, tried to mask her mind even as her father read it, but the hope of freedom intruded over all other thoughts. The hope that if her husband were only to catch a glimpse of the writing of her book-bound form -even just her title! - he would realize the deception and rescue her from this tor-”
*snap*
Don’t think I don’t see you creeping back there, dearest, admiring my ass. Hmm? 'What was I reading'? Oh, nothing important. But you’re welcome to watch as I put it away. Far, far away.

Mysterio Jones Watson

 Shameless Patreon Plug

“Is that your phone in your pocket, MJ?” Peter Parker asked.
“Mm-hmm, yep,” Mysterio replied, shifting himself around so that his cock wasn't jutting against the hero’s hip. He pressed his breasts against Spider-Man's arms, knowing that was usually sufficient to distract the teenager.
   It had been a week since Mysterio had faked his death in London. A week since he’d been a respectable villain, now reduced to this absurd charade. The plan had been a concocted at the last minute - kidnap Spider-Man’s girlfriend and use the drones to project a holographic shell of the girl around Mysterio, allowing him to get close enough to Spider-Man to steal back the glasses. Simple.
There was of course one very obvious flaw in that plan, which his team were racing to correct - Miss Jones-Watson was an 18 year old girl, while he was a 39 year old man. There was a mismatch there. If the body beneath didn’t match the illusion, Parker’s hand would vanish through the hologram the first time he went for a fumble of a nonexistent breast.
Mysterio’s chest ached from the two large silicone breast implants his team had forced into him. All so that his nemesis would have something to fondle.
“Could you put your arm around my waist this time,” Mysterio said sweetly. The implants inside his ass-cheeks were similarly tender. His team had at least programmed a subroutine into the audio converters to filter out his grunt of pain every time the randy teenager groped Mysterio’s tender cheeks. The audio converters were so far doing a spectacular job modulating his voice into a girly lilt.
"Sure thing, MJ." Peter gripped his waist, and Mysterio’s heart sank as Peter used the closeness as a opportunity to peel up his mask and pull his girlfriend into a kiss. While Mysterio was focused on twisting his head in such a way that his larger nose didn’t bump against Peter’s, Peter took the opening to shove his tongue down his throat. Mysterio nearly gagged. Perhaps the worst part was knowing a live feed of this tryst was being streamed to his team from multiple angles. He played along in kind, examining Peter's tonsils with his own tongue.
At least the lasers and chemical epilation had dealt permanently with his body hair. There’d be no more of ‘MJs’ rough five o’clock shadow scraping against Peter’s cheek as they kissed. That had nearly blown the entire ruse wide open the first time.
And then they were away. Mysterio clung on for dear life as they swung through the city, aware that even the slightest flicker of his disguise would give him away now, while the invisible, hologram-projecting drones struggled to keep pace. His team were similarly rushing to keep up with events, Mysterio’s heads-up display reeling from data as they fed him details of MJ's life, her likes and dislikes, as well as diet tips, gossip, feminine perfumes, and fashion trends. Worst of all was the endless stream of appointments filling his calendar as his team sought ways to improve the foundation of the illusion - liposuction, hair extensions and follicle implants, a buttock lift, jaw and nose reduction and facial feminisation surgery. He shuddered. If this continued, he might not even need the holograms.
“I was thinking we could have Netflix and chill tonight.”
“Of course, honey,” Mysterio replied sweetly. He had no idea what Netflix and Chill was but, 500 feet above the streets of Manhattan, he’d agree to anything. “I-is that your phone in your pocket, Peter?”

Putting The Men In Breast Augmentation

 Shameless Patreon Plug

 

It’s been a wonderful evening, Sophia.
I’ve enjoyed myself too. So… would you like to come back to my place?
Your place? What about your husband?
Oh, he already knows about us. As a matter of fact, he’s been eavesdropping on our entire date. HAVEN’T YOU DARLING? You’ll have to speak up, he’s implanted quite deep.
You mean your husband is here?! Where?
You haven’t noticed? You’ve been staring at him all evening. Those new implants he bought me? He bribed my surgeon to use siliconizing nanites and implant him inside me. He’s had suspicions for a while now, so he turned himself into my brand new tits to spy on me.
And you let him?
Of course! In fact I had to bribe the surgeon myself to go ahead with his crazy scheme! And of course destroy the paperwork saying the operation had ever taken place. My husband paid him to recall my implants after a week and revert him but, well, I doubled it. Mmm, do you hear that darling? Nobody is coming to save you because nobody knows you exist. Oooh, I love it when he wriggles so feebly like that.
He can move?
Barely. Only enough to give me pleasure. You wouldn't notice it unless you knew to look. Ah, so helpless.
Err, wow. Well it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Jones. Your wife is a very beautiful woman. And you don’t look bad yourself.
So how about I take you hope and introduce you two properly? I can’t wait to wrap him around your cock and have him titfuck you all night.

Tony Stark to Body Part

 Shameless Patreon Plug

   Pepper teased the dress back, gently fondling her late husband. She really needed to stop touching him - it only made him more comfortable. He’d been sleeping in the warm cocoon that was her dress, his mind now awakening within her chest to the pleasurable teasing.
“We really need to find somebody to fix this, Tony.”
Her tits yawned. “What’s the rush?" When Tony spoke he was barely a whisper, inaudible to anyone but her. "They’re calling me the earth’s greatest hero. Earth’s greatest breasts, bit of a downgrade.
"You're staying like this for the sake of your ego?!"
"Look, sweetie, we already held the funeral. It was touching. Everybody cried, you cried, I cried.”
“You didn’t cry.”
“I leaked a little.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. Tony had always been something of a manchild, and existence as nothing more than her tits suited him. As usual, she was the one taking the responsibility, while he clung to her and enjoyed the pleasures in life. She worried he’d found his niche a little too well. “Maybe Helen Cho could build you a body.”
“I’ve got the perfect body right here,” her breasts murmured, wiggling comfortably against her. “Honey, could you close the window, it’s a little drafty.”
It had been misfortunate timing landing in the instant before her husband snapped his fingers, the tiniest hint of cleavage showing through her damaged Iron Man suit distracting his attention at a critical moment of godlike power. The reality and soul stones had done the rest in twisting his amorous impulse, and she’d been too distraught to notice her husband’s muffled voice within the armor until the stones had been returned to their timelines.
“Don’t you want to hold your daughter again?”
Stark sighed. “Fine. We’ll brainstorm a plan in the morning. But tonight you’re doing nothing but play with me.”

Apologies

 Massive apologies for being so far behind on uploading here as opposed to DeviantArt. I'm hoping to find time tomorrow to get on top of things and port everything over from there. In the meantime, there's a few more captions over there.

https://www.deviantart.com/transviscera

Hope you all had a lovely weekend,

All the best.

Caught Bronze Handed

 

Shameless Patreon Plug

   Prying open the junction box on the gallery roof, Jeffrey checked, double checked and triple checked the jumble of cables within before clipping a dozen of them. He was a perfectionist, the only way to avoid prison as an art thief. Some of the pieces he stole were worth millions, and the security reflected it. But he was confident he’d cut every wire. The security system could send all the alarms it liked to the outside world but they’d never get reach beyond this junction box.
He crowbarred open the fire escape and sauntered down the gallery corridors. He’d scoped out the guard’s schedule and knew it’d be an hour before this wing was patrolled again. Plenty of time to swipe the Picasso. Silent alarms rang as he approached the painting but, as long as they were silent, he smugly sauntered through the laser trip lines.
As he reached for the painting, a hatch slid open in the wall, extruding a nozzle. The words Nanite Encapsulator 5000 was stenciled on the side. He had just enough time to raise his hand before a focused blast of liquid fired from it, hitting hard enough to send him stumbling back.
Jeffrey stared at his arm in horror. It was frozen, coated in undulating liquid metal that was squirming up to his shoulder like something alive, consuming his clothing as it went. The cold, living liquid poured down his chest and up his neck. He pinched his lips shut but a metallic taste entered his mouth as it forced its way inside, filling his insides. He felt his nose, his ears, even his eyes being similarly invaded. He felt he should be unable to breath, see or hear, but somehow the liquid was taking care of that.
Similarly the wave of metal consumed his pants and thief tools as it ventured south, a thick tendril of it forcing its way inside his ass, squirming up his intestinal tract to paint his insides.
“Bmphhh!” Jeffrey gurgled through the liquid congealing within his lungs. Desperately he tried to crawl for the exit but the metal was hardening. Robotic arms gripped his encased form, lifting and depositing him on a pedestal.
Neon green computer text filled his vision.
[Nanite Encapsulator coming online…]
[Target immobility at…97%...98%...]
[O2 transmission nanites coming online. O2 saturation at 100%]
[Target immobility at 99%... Target fully immobilized]
[Waste reprocessing nanites coming online… metabolic support nanites coming online… metabolic support battery estimate - 487 years 3 months 3 days 23 hours 9 minutes 9 seconds]
[Informing law enforcement agencies of apprehension… Transmission failed… Retrying… Transmission failed... Retrying...]
[Adopting aesthetically appropriate containment template… searching database… template selected - “Eve Hearing the Voice" by Moses J. Ezekiel (1904)... Enforcing template…]
   There came a crack from Jeffrey’s ribs as the metal contracted about his waist, forcing the last air from his nanite-coated lungs as a pained groan, his final breath. He felt the nanite liquid rippling over him… crawling inside his flesh… twisting his insides around… resculpting him. His body reshaped like hot candle wax as a pair of budding breasts were pushed out from within, his thighs plumping, his hips cracking and forcefully stretched apart from inside. The cartilage inside his face crunched and snapped into a frozen female mask. An irresistible pressure began to build on his cock and suddenly he felt the resistance give as it was forced up and inside him, the nanites sculpting a delicate vagina between his thick thighs in its place.
[Template Enforced… Updating gallery catalog. “Eve Hearing the Voice" by Moses J. Ezekiel (1904) added to gallery catalog.]
[Recording Template - Intruder #001. Transmitting Intruder #001 template to law enforcement agencies for reversion following incarceration… Transmission failed… Retrying… Transmission failed… Retrying…]
The remodeling nanites completed their work, sealing into an inert, impenetrable copper skin just as the door to the wing opened. A guard stepped in, swinging his torch from side to side. The beam came to rest on Jeffrey, glittering off his broad, metallic backside. The guard paced slowly towards him, his gaze surveying the assets of the new item on display.
Had that been there on his last patrol? He shrugged. Surely it had. His torch swung away.
“I’m right here!” Jeffrey screamed, his voice echoing within the metal skin. “You caught me! You win! Arrest me! Let me out! Let me out!”
The guard searched the entire wing. He could find no reason for the triggered alarms and so disabled them, neglecting to inform the next shift, and forgetting all about the event by the time he got home.
The unexpected appearance of the item was noted as strange by the gallery curator, but she was a busy woman, items were bought and sold faster than she could keep track of, and a search of the catalog confirmed its ownership. Unsure of what to do with the piece, it was placed in storage for thirty years before finally being sold into private hands.
The Encapsulator never managed to contact the police. Its messages never got further than the junction box, its transmission nanites trying and retrying, their batteries depleted days before the sabotage was found and repaired.