Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Do you ever see yourself settling down? Doing the family thing? Finding the one guy you keep permanently as yours?

Yes I do. I want a family. A husband and four kids. Ideally, two boys and two girls.

But the husband has to come first. So far I haven’t found a man that can stand up to me. Whenever I meet a guy at a party that seems interesting, mysterious, strong, I’m drawn to him. If he can keep up a conversation and knows how to flirt well, it piques my interest. I turn on the charm offensive and boom we’re dating. As long as he can stand up to me I’m happy. But over time I start to wear guys down. I don’t to it on purpose. I swear! It’s just who I am. Before too long I start taking over the relationship and the bedroom. I always tell the guys I’m dating all about what I do. They’re usually quite fascinated by it. But the moment he asks me about chastity for for himself I know the relationship’s days are numbered. I can’t help myself. “Oh! It’s incredible! Do you want to try it out, just to see what it feels like? I bet you’re curious.” Guys can’t seem to say no. Before you know it he’s locked up nice and snug. “What you do think? Comfy, eh? Doesn’t it feel like my hand is always gripping you? But this isn’t even the best part. You need to wait a couple more days for that.” Days turn to weeks and what do you think happens to bf?

You guessed it. Once that cage slides on it’s only a matter of time until boyfriend becomes boy toy. It’s not all bad. At least he’ll be forever bound to me, always someone special. Just not a husband.

But I have hope that someday a man will be able to stand up to me and keep me in my place. Is that man you?

Kaya Scodelario

You could stop it...

You could stop it…

You could step in and rescue your friend from being droned.   You could step in behind the drone escorting your friend, and ram the taser into the back of the drone’s neck and short it out long enough to escape.   The same taser you used on your friend as she ran into you arms, thinking herself safe. 

She didn’t know how thoroughly enslaved you were to your cunny, and how thoroughly enslaved your cunny was to the Hive.   How could she?  You had done such a good job pretending to be the old you.   They didn’t know about the neediness the Hive had bred into you:  To obey.  To see everyone brought into the fold and converted. Even now, as the restraints your friend to the e-frame, carefully maneuvering the mind clamps into place, you find your hands jammed under your panties, fingers yourself at the thought of what was about to happen.   You work yourself harder as you hear the Hive machinery spring to life, the familiar throbbing filling your head, the memory of your own conversion causing your clit to throb in unison. 

The fading away to nothingness as the Hive entered you.  Filled you up.  Made you cum over, and over as it overlaid knew wants and needs into your sopping, arousal soaked mind.  Days of brainwashing to turn you into the happiest of betrayers.

You watch the drone lube up the dildos, making them as shiny and glossy as she is.  You should look away; you shouldn’t watch as the mind clamps press into place and you watch any remaining awareness fade from your friend’s eyes.

It is the single most arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life, the orgasm crashing into you as you grunt and moan, ignored by the drone as she slides the toys into position.   Your friend is as full as you were, her mind and sex stretched wide apart so the Hive can enter her and re-work her to fit it’s needs.

You don’t think the Hive will turn her into a true drone.   Not yet.

Questions would be asked.   Where had she vanished too?   Why were the last person to be seen with her?   Did you know her whereabouts? 

No one would think to ask you why you had lead her to the disused industrial estate, or why you insisted on going deeper into the run down warehouse, ‘accidentally’ finding the hidden switch and following the dark, dusty passageway until it gave away to industrial gratings, power cables and the buzzing overhead lights that always seemed to make you feel sleepy every time you stared at the too long.

Nor would think about asking you why you insisted on going deeper into the complex, sneaking from place to place, and following all those pretty, gloss encased drones as they marched from place to place.

Until the trap was sprang.

Until they marched from all sides, hands out-reached for her.    Your friend hand’t seen you slip the taser out of your back pocket, not understand the purpose of the embrace you gave her as your cunny flared to life and you jammed the taser into the small of her back.

Just to knock her out.

Just to feel the thrill of betrayal coursing through your system as your Sisters closed ranks around her, fitting the control visor to hear eyes.    They all wore them - even you as you look on, watching your friend buck and strain in her restraints as her own visor syncs to the mind clamps and forces the pleasure into her.   You remember resisting, too.   You remember holding out for hours until it became too much, and you just surrendered to the pleasure.  

Surrendered to the Hive.

Even now, you could stop it…

Just knock the drone out with a well placed punch, and you could free your friend.  Before the brainwashing is too deeply embedded.  Before the urge to complete is so strong that she will return her of her own accord and surrender for processing. 

But you know she’ll be so much happier as a slave to the Hive -  a sister drone you can eat out and help enforce the Hive’s will over.  You hope there’s still enough of her left to resist.   Still enough of her left to help corrupt further, so you can watch it fade away every time she surrenders to her Hive programming and her drone self takes over.

Not a full one, of course.   

You haven’t earned that yet. 

You whimper as that sparks a more intense burst of pleasure.  Your panties are soaked by now, even as you friend’s eyes start to roll up to reveal the whites of her eyes and she lets out the lewdest, hottest moan you’ve ever heard.

Did you make that kind of noise when processed?   You kind of hope you did.  You hope you let your sister drone’s know how grateful that they had picked you to be their Trojan horse.

To continue the betrayal with your new sister-drone by your side.

Divide and conquer.   With the two of you covering each other’s alibis, it will be too late by the time anyone becomes suspicious.  You will have brought too many into the fold for them to stop what would come next.   The infection would spread, the Hive’s will solidifying it’s hold over the town before any real resistance could be mounted.

You find yourself on your knees, working your enslaved cunny with such intensity that you’re practically forcing the inevitability of your thoughts.

You will convert them all: Friends, family, co-workers…   

You don’t notice the drone standing behind you, the tendrils spreading from her fingers to connect with your visor, and the smattering of minor cybenertics already grafted onto you.  Just a few - carefully hidden.   Allowing them access to your mind to alter and tweak your thoughts to match their own.

To expose you to the feedback of your friend’s conversion as she tries to resist.  You can feel her mind weakening, her thoughts already growing gloopy with arousal.  Ready.  Waiting.  Needing to be molded and set into new patterns.

You could stop it…   You really could….   

But why would you want to?

Night In With Aunt Bridget

It was a pleasant evening with Aunt Bridget. A few drinks with her favourite nephew and an opportunity to relax for the weekend. They laughed and joked and she sat, crossing those long, booted legs…..something that her nephew was paying close attention to.

The nephew adored his Aunt. She was the younger and glamorous sister of his frumpy, strict mother. Her dress sense was sexy and very appealing to a young man. He stirred uneasily as Aunt Bridget once again crossed her legs. She noticed his discomfort as she sipped her wine…..he in turn took a massive gulp of his drink as she asked him what the matter was.

He blurted it all out. The sissy fantasy he harboured since being a teen. The desire to wear lovely clothes, be made up and to shamefully be forced into sissy bondage and whoring. Too much drink had loosened the boy’s tongue and Aunt Bridget nodded sympathetically. You see, she knew all about his little habits. Many previous visits resulted in her panty drawer being disturbed, her shoe collection had also been touched. Her special dress up box was left open, with her range of wigs obviously taken out. Aunt Bridget loved to play all manner of games with her gentlemen friends and her wardrobe reflected those fancies.

With the nephew looking slightly dazed at how he confessed so readily, Aunt Bridget rested a perfectly manicured hand on his knee and told him to come upstairs with her. They entered her bedroom and she flung the wardrobe door open along with her panty and nylon drawer. She commanded him to pick an outfit, some underwear, heels and a wig of choice. With a trembling hand, he selected a mustard yellow sweater, short black skirt, patent heels and dark shiny nylons. She ordered him to pull on the nylons first as she knew the feeling against him would be heaven, and she was right as he then put on the pink panties he knew so well, with the strawberry blonde wig finally placed on his head.

Aunt Bridget smiled and with some help, he had an impressive rack stuffed under the sweater to go along with the rest of the ensemble. The makeup was applied and little sissy nephew was seated in front of the dressing table mirror hypnotised by his reflection.

But things weren’t going to end there were they? The bondage fantasy was now the true elephant in the room…..and dearest Aunty revealed the box hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe. Nephew had always been very curious, but the container was always locked. Aunt Bridget went to her jewellery box and found the key, slipping it into the lock and lifting the lid. The box was a haven of bondage equipment….gags, cuffs, rope, bandage wrap and tape. There were other things in there that her innocent nephew wasn’t sure of, but they would be explained soon enough.

The rope was expertly applied around his torso and legs. To nephew’s shame, his cock was bulging through the pink panties and Aunty hitched the skirt up to confirm her suspicions. She felt the offending lump and he had leaked a little through the nylons and panties. She tutted as she pulled her own panties off and balled them up. He opened his mouth without any prompting and she placed her warm, moist underwear behind his slutty red lips. The red bandage was wrapped tightly to seal the gag in place and he moaned softly, struggling against the ropes and trying to dry hump Aunty’s booted legs. Another tut was his reward as Aunt Bridget sat down on the bed and retrieved her phone.

She snapped a few pics of sissy nephew and told him that his fantasy would be a reality tonight. Aunty knew some friends who loved their games too….a charming couple who were very open minded. She made nephew watch as she sent the photos to her friends and the resulting replies. He whined at the thought of being seen like this and who knows what else. He stared down at his stiffening cock, betrayed by the thought of being a used sissy.

Aunty gently kissed his gagged mouth and produced a gleaming steel chastity cage. It seems she was more than used to dealing with these situations and she shushed the wretched slut as she called her sister. Apparently, sweet nephew will be staying over tonight.

So don’t wait up, Mother.