Welcome

Hello and thank you for visiting my blog. Well it is not so much a blog more a place to share all the things i have written, drawn and generaly played with over the last 10 years. Most of them are related to my love of smooth slick Latex and shiny PVC, as well as the delights of feminization. I also have a huge crush on British TV presenter Carol Vorderman (The perfect model of the older woman) as well as the gorgeous Keira Knightley. (more my age). There will be nothing harsh or nasty here, just fun things, naughty things, sexy things and yes, well, Kinky things. Basically it's a stroll through the kinky lanes of my mind. hope you have fun. XXX

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Friday, 23 May 2025

Hooray It's Christeen

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our blog alive.
From only $4 a month




On Patreon Today
Welcome to Friday
and a new piece of my
own art and following
on from  the latest post
on here we have Andy
in new danger.
This is part of the
Andy alone series
following on from his
capture by the bounty
hunters in America.






Hi Everyone
    Sorry for not being around,but I am still away and will be back tomorrow. Hopefully this will post as planned but if it does not then you won't know any of this.
   So here we have 4 super pieces from our dear friend Christeen, Two brand new pieces and two classics from her 800 series.
  These are just amazing and I thank Christeen for sharing them
Big hugs
Hope to see you soon
XXX
Andy






Monday, 19 May 2025

New art : Red For Danger

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On Patreon Today
Christeen brings
us some Monday 
fun with a brand 
new piece over on 
Patreon.
This piece is ideal
for all us heel lovers.
Thank you Christeen
I am so proud to be
sharing your work.





Hi Everyone
    Welcome to Monday. A Quick note. I shall be pre-loading a few things this week as I will be away visiting a friend for a few days. But hopefully they will all post as planned.
    So Monday takes us on a trip along a dark road somewhere in the city. This image was previewed over on Patreon and you all took the story in some amazing directions that I will share on here soon, but for today here is my original take on it. 
    Andy has been lured into the worry part of town,If the outfit had been extravagant he might have been suspicious, but this clean business suit was classic Aunt Jane. However things are not what they seem. Someone is watching and waiting.
     So I imagine this image sits in the time line before Aunt Jane and Andy travel to america to escape the Sisterhood, but after they have fallen out with them. This are getting dark and this could be the catalyst for that need to flee their grip.
  Hope you like this
Biggest Hugs
XXX
Andy



Friday, 16 May 2025

The wonderful world of Christeen

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On Patreon Today
We finally get to
see the full image of
something teased a
few weeks ago.
Clearly we are in
some sunkissed
and exotic landscape
but who are these two
and why is Andy......
I'll leave you to find out




Hi Everyone
   So Friday rolls into town and that brings us more wonderful art from Christeen.
  However first a quick personal update. Things are settling down with the storm of rubbish I have been travelling through this year and a huge part of my new stability is down to you and the fun and enjoyment we share on here, so thank you all so much XXXXX
  Now over to the wonderful world of Christeen
XX
Andy







Monday, 12 May 2025

New art. A Girls Name

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On Patreon Today
Monday as ever
gives us all the treat
of superb new art
from Christeen.
Seems Chris is off 
to a Party but I'll 
leave the details
for the Patreon.




Hi Everyone
    Welcome to a new week , I hope you are all well.
  Today we get the completed version of a Patreon preview.  nice simple image of poor Andy trying to maintain his secret in the Village.
  Obviously this version is set before Andy becomes well known as Aunt Janes, feminised companion, as speculation and gossip about the beautiful young woman is riffe. 
   However he is known to the sweet and nervous vicar of the Parish the Reverend Mayfield Green. After all, it would be rude to lie to a man of the cloth. 
   To add to the fun, our dear friend has crafted a tale from this image, taking us all along a path to fun and games ,which I will share in good time.
  So let's go over to the village.
XX
Andy












Friday, 9 May 2025

It's Friday with Christeen

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our blog alive.
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On Patreon Today
A peak at a new
piece of my own
art.
This is a slightly
ominous image
full of portent.
It features our
sweet hero/Heroine
in what might well be
a very dangerous
situation.


 Hello Everyone
 So we have made it to another Friday and our prize is a classic piece of Christeens art, plus two brand new pieces which only add to Christeens legend.
Thanks Christeen
XXX
Andy










Wednesday, 7 May 2025

Treats

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Hi Everyone
SURPRISE!!!!!
   This is just  a quick pop in to share a few wonderful new translations from our dear sweet friend Girlie Morgane and a little thought experiment with Ai.
    But to begin with let's catch up on something I overlooked and that is the gorgeous Blake Lively in this sweet pink ,two piece 50s inspired Latex outfit for the premiere of Another Simple Favor (Quiet a fun film, I enjoyed it). I thought she looked amazing.
Also if you watch the film,ypou might well notice, that she is wearing a white latex wedding ensemble,including a bodice and leggings.  

Thank to our friend Amber for the links

So next,we get a couple of sweet images from our dear friend Amber Caprice. These have so much warmth and I love them so much..





Our dear Friend Girlie Morgane, is so adorable and her fun translations of my art are always a delight  and it gives me the chance to revisit some of my classic pieces.
 I love these and these are just a selection of many that I will post in time.






Ok so here is something totally unrelated to anything, but I can across it on line and it just gives me a very naughty buzz.I think it is the sound, I love the sounds of stretching latex.  So what do you think, is this one of our selection of sweet heroine/heroes in peril?
I am sure your imagination can fill in the gaps for me.


Here's a scary thing. Back in 2022, I created this image of the gorgeous BBC Breakfast tv presenter Sally Nugent in a latex dress. It was pure photoshop and took ages to perfect.

Spin on just a few years and that image is now brought to life,by the power of Ai Video generation.
This is basic, I can only imagine what a fully powered system could create.



Speaking of Ai. Here is that thought experiment.
I asked Ai to create a story about this image. I gave it some names and a little detail and this is what is produced after only 3 runs of the prompt.
This is rough and unedited, because I wanted you to see what, with a little training Ai can create.
  I would also like to point out that to me it is a pretty cold. If you were to compare this to any of the writers who have contributed to our blog over the years , From Skinnie Stallion to  Mistress Leather Beth, ot Rubber H or  Mandy Sweet Heart and through all of them , this lacks that human touch, that personal Kink that makes real creativity so amazing.
  But take a look and read for your lovely selves.

So Ai write a story about this picture.






The Latex Room
The clinical brightness of the room stung Jake’s eyes, a sterile white oblivion that offered no comfort, no escape. His wrists burned in the steel shackles, suspending him just high enough that only the tips of his toes scraped the cold floor. His body trembled from exhaustion, but the deeper, colder terror inside him had nothing to do with pain.
It was what he saw.
Across the room, seated rigidly on a padded bench, was what Jake could only call a doll. A gleaming, latex-coated figure of surreal beauty — feminine, perfect, inhuman.
It was Andy.
Or what remained of him.
Jake had watched — helpless, horrified — every step of the transformation.
Andy hadn’t gone willingly. Even gagged and drugged, he had struggled fiercely, his body writhing against the padded straps that pinned him to the table. His muffled cries filled the air as the two women — clad in gleaming red latex uniforms — worked around him with cold efficiency.
They had begun by coating his exposed skin with a thick, sweet-smelling latex glue, its chemical tang heavy and cloying. Then came the suit — a masterpiece of engineered cruelty, laid out like a second skin. It shone like molten honey under the lights, a deep amber gold, so glossy and smooth it reflected the ceiling tiles above in distorted curves.
They worked the suit onto him inch by inch, the slick material squelching and squeezing as it clung to his body, obliterating every hint of the boy he had been. His limbs were encased, molded into sleek, slender shapes, while the suit’s exaggerated female curves pressed into place — swollen, artificial breasts; a waspish, doll-like waist; hips widened to an absurd hourglass.
Jake could hear every sound — the sticky pull as latex met skin, the creak of the material stretching over joints. Andy’s eyes rolled in frantic disbelief as the women forced his feet into the ballet-heeled boots that were part of the suit, stretching his tendons painfully into a permanent, tip-toed stance.
Even paralyzed, Andy had found the strength to shake his head in silent horror when they brought out the mask.
It was a work of art — and a weapon.
They held it up between them, reverently, displaying its flawless, hyper-feminine features. Glossy, doll-like lips parted in a breathless ‘O’, arched brows sculpted into a look of perpetual surprise, and enormous, wide eyes framed with painted lashes. It was a face built for seduction and vacancy — a beauty so unreal it belonged in a shop window, not on a living soul.
Andy thrashed his head, what little he could move, trying to avoid it. The attendants were patient. Smiling. They pinned his head still, hands gripping his skull.
There was a pause — a frozen, awful moment.
Then the mask was pulled open, stretched wider than seemed possible, and lowered onto his face.
Schhhhlick.
The sound was nauseating — the slippery, wet kiss of latex sealing over flesh. Andy’s muffled scream died instantly as the mask molded itself over his features, the inner surface gripping tightly, erasing him. The attendants smoothed it into place with slow, deliberate caresses — sssshhh, sssshhh — their gloved hands gliding over the latex, pressing it tighter, shaping it flawlessly to the underlying face.
They brushed the forehead smooth. Pressed the cheeks flat. Ran fingertips lovingly over the new, glossy red lips.
A thin brush was dipped into the glue again, painting a perfect line around the seam at the base of his neck. The collar of the bodysuit was pulled up, meeting the edge of the mask with surgical precision.
There was a final hiss.
A soft click.
The mask locked into place.
Jake’s breath hitched in his throat. Andy was gone. Where once there had been fear, defiance, life — now there was only the frozen, radiant face of a doll. The mask gleamed under the lights, lacquered and polished to unnatural perfection. Andy’s body sat perfectly posed, his legs elegantly crossed, his hands resting delicately at his sides. His new synthetic hair — a golden, cascading mane — was being brushed by one of the women as she hummed quietly to herself.
Behind the doll’s painted eyes, Jake thought he saw a flicker — the faintest twitch, a trapped scream too deep to reach the surface.
"Your friend resisted too," the other woman said, stepping close to Jake with a smile that made his blood run colder. "They all do. But look at her now. So beautiful. So still."
Jake shook his head violently, every muscle screaming with fear and rage. "He’s not a she! That’s Andy! You can't do this!"
The woman tilted her head sympathetically. "Not anymore. Andy is gone. Amber is born."
She turned toward a steel table by the bench, lifting another folded mass of latex — thinner, darker — dripping with promise. The scent hit Jake immediately, stronger than before: industrial, sweet, suffocating.
"This one’s yours," she said.
Jake’s stomach lurched. He pulled against the chains with a desperate, furious strength he didn’t know he had, but the restraints were unbreakable. His heart hammered in his chest.
He looked at Andy one last time — at Amber — shining and still.
And he knew:
Unless he found some impossible way out, the next doll to sit polished and perfect on that bench would be him.
And no one would even remember his name.
Only the doll he became.
Jake hung limply in his restraints, his muscles trembling, too drained to struggle — but his mind was sharp with a terror that refused to dull. His wide, tear-stung eyes stayed locked on the figure across the room: Andy — Amber — perched obediently atop the bench, a frozen monument to what had once been his friend.
Andy was still fighting. Jake could feel it.
Though his body sat perfectly still, forced into an impossible pose of poise and femininity, there was a visible tremble — almost imperceptible — at the edges of his latex-encased thighs. A minute shiver running through the impossibly high-arched feet locked in their cruel ballet heels.
Andy was aware.
He was alive inside the doll.
The women moved around him with ritualistic grace, unhurried, their glossy red uniforms squeaking faintly with every motion. From a cabinet nearby, one of them retrieved a canister — sleek, silver, with a long, narrow nozzle — and gave it a delicate shake. Jake heard the faint rattle of liquid inside.
The second woman gently tilted Andy’s chin upward with two gloved fingers, positioning him to receive the final indignity.
Then the hissing began.
A fine mist sprayed out from the nozzle, enveloping Andy’s latex-coated body in a shimmering cloud. The scent hit Jake even across the room: sharp, chemical, heavy with permanence. It clung to the air like an invisible weight.
Everywhere the mist touched, the latex transformed — deepening from its already wet-looking sheen into something almost supernatural. A glassy, mirror-like finish bloomed across Andy's figure, sealing him inside a living sculpture of impossible, gleaming perfection.
Jake watched as the light above fractured and danced across Andy’s skin, warping and sliding along the freshly coated surface. He could see his own horrified reflection twisting across the swell of Andy’s new, artificial breasts; the curve of his smooth, swollen thighs; the glossy perfection of the doll's parted, painted lips.
Andy — Amber — was now complete.
A doll not just in form, but in essence. A breathing, conscious soul trapped forever behind an unyielding, mirrored shell.
The woman finished spraying, stepping back to admire her work, while the other delicately smoothed a gloved hand over Amber’s polished cheek, leaving not even a fingerprint.
Jake’s gaze locked onto the doll’s face.
The vacant blue eyes stared straight ahead — unblinking, immobile — framed by thick, synthetic lashes that would never flutter naturally again. The lips remained parted in a mindless, breathless pout. There was no movement, no sign of thought, only flawless, frozen beauty.
But Jake knew better.
He imagined Andy behind that perfect mask — screaming, begging, clawing at the inside of his own face with hands that no longer moved. He imagined the suffocating, tight embrace of the latex, the unrelenting grip of the heels, the agony of awareness trapped beneath a perfect, polished surface that would never, ever betray the horror within.
Jake’s breath hitched violently, a low whimper escaping him. His legs buckled against the restraints, his own body betraying him.
One of the women turned her head, smiling sweetly at him.
"You’ll be even more beautiful," she said. "When you’re finished, you’ll reflect the world, too. But you won't feel it anymore."
She stroked a finger along the fresh canister — still misted with condensation — and advanced toward him.
The thick, sickly scent of latex and lacquer hung in the air.
Jake's heart thundered in his ears, and all he could do was watch, helpless, as the first touch of glue was dabbed onto his trembling, bare skin.
Jake thrashed as hard as his weakening muscles allowed, his wrists twisting painfully against the unyielding shackles, his bare feet scraping uselessly against the cold floor. Panic coursed through him like fire — raw, animal, uncontrollable.
But the women didn’t flinch. They moved with the same calm, clinical detachment they had shown with Andy. As if his terror was simply part of the ritual.
One of them laid the new suit across a sterile metal table beside him, unfolding it with a slow, deliberate care.
Jake’s heart stuttered in his chest.
The latex was different.
Darker.
Where Andy’s had been a soft, honey-amber shade, this one gleamed with a rich, smooth tone — not black, not brown, but a beautiful, deeply warm tan, like polished bronze. A perfect imitation of Indian or Asian skin, stylized for maximum exotic beauty. Even without being worn, the suit shimmered with a mirror-like finish, slick and almost wet in appearance.
"You’ll look stunning," one of the women said casually, as if discussing a dress fitting. She traced a gloved finger down the length of the suit, pausing at the high, pert breasts and the impossibly narrow waist built into the design. "This client requested something a little more... international. A blend of features. The market is always expanding."
Jake froze, breath caught in his throat.
The market.
His mind reeled.
They weren’t just doing this for themselves. They weren’t making dolls for pleasure or display alone — they were manufacturing products. They were selling them.
Turning people into exquisite objects — silent, obedient, permanent — to be purchased, owned, and displayed around the world like luxury trophies.
His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might vomit.
"No—no, you can’t—! Please" he rasped, his voice cracking. He yanked against the chains again, muscles screaming in protest, but it was useless. The restraints had been designed to withstand far more than his panicked thrashing.
The women only smiled in that same detached, motherly way.
"You should be honored," said the first, lifting a soft brush and dipping it into the jar of latex glue. "You’re going to be admired. Desired. Protected."
"And you’ll never have to make another decision again," added the second as she picked up the thick, glossy suit, turning it toward him.
It glistened obscenely in the bright white lights — a perfect, liquid second skin, molded to an idealized form that had nothing to do with Jake’s real body. He could already see how the suit's long, slender legs would fuse into those cruel ballet heels, how the sculpted hips would distort his frame into a luscious, exaggerated hourglass, how the suit’s surface would reflect the world around him, erasing him.
The first brushstroke hit his skin, cold and wet.
Jake screamed — a raw, animal sound — but the glue was fast-drying, tacky. It clung to him immediately, seeping into every pore, a promise of what was coming.
They worked methodically, brushing him from ankles to thighs, torso to arms, coating his bare, vulnerable flesh in the sweet, cloying scent of latex and industrial finality.
Jake's mind spiraled.
He tried to imagine escape, anything — biting, kicking — but his body wouldn’t respond. The paralytic they had used on Andy was already taking hold, seeping into him through the glue, through the scent, through the overwhelming terror. His limbs were growing sluggish, trembling under their own weight.
The second woman cradled the empty suit now, guiding it toward him.
"Time to put your new skin on," she whispered.
Jake sobbed, twisting his head away, but they were too practiced, too calm.
The suit opened — impossibly elastic, shimmering under the fluorescent lights — and began sliding up his legs with a slick, wet shhlurp. The sensation was unbearable — the suctioning, squeezing pressure of the latex molding to him, climbing higher, sealing his body into the alien, glossy tan form inch by inch.
It felt like he was being erased.
The suit's interior clung with a perverse, intimate familiarity, smoothing over every muscle, every joint. His calves were compressed, shaped into slender, endless curves. His knees locked slightly backward, his thighs pressed together by the suit’s demanding contours.
Jake sobbed harder as the latex reached his hips — the exaggerated female hips of the suit — forcing his pelvis into an unnatural flare.
He looked down in horror, seeing the glossy, dark-tanned legs emerging where his own should have been, glistening under the lights.
Gone.
Already, he was disappearing.
Above him, one of the women unfolded a hood — darker toned like the suit, the features just as cruelly perfect: large, doll-like eyes, soft, pouting lips, high cheekbones — unmistakably Asian, or some engineered fusion of beauty, made to appeal to the widest, richest market.
It gleamed like a liquid mirror.
Jake whimpered, his head lolling weakly.Tears in his eyes
He thought of Andy — of Amber — sitting eternally still just feet away, coated in gloss, unable to blink, unable to move, unable even to scream.
And he realized with a soul-crushing certainty:
In a few minutes, he would  be gone.



XXX
Andy






Monday, 5 May 2025

Return of the Bunny.A Skinnie S tale.

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our blog alive.
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On PatreonToday
Monday brings
us a superb piece
from the ever amazing
talents of the brilliant 
Christeen and It
would seen our
adorable Chis his
back under some
strict control


Hi Everyone.

   With The posting of this months page inthe calendar over on patreon we have the chance to top off our Easter series with this naughty little tale from out dear friend Skinnie S.
    Skinnie sent me three versions, but I felt we could do with a little naughtiness and so went for this one. 
    Skinnie has also pointed out it kind of leans into Mistress LeatherBeth's view of the village.
  I can't thank Skinnie enough for all these amazing stories, they add a new and different angle to the worlds of Andy and Aunt Jane.
   Big and warm hugs
XX
Andy


The Return of the Easter Bunny (naughtiest)


So much for accompanying him round the village.   Andy knew what was going to happen as soon as he spotted Mayfield emerging from the florists.  “Run along, dear, and deliver your eggs,” gasped a slightly flustered Jane.  “I may catch you up.  If not, I’ll see you at Church.  I just need to speak to Mayfield.”

“Yes, Auntie,” he replied grudgingly.  


“Please take Fifi with you; he needs the exercise.”

“Yes, Auntie.”


“And don’t forget his Easter treat.  It’s all arranged,” she added knowingly as the vicar approached.

A cartoon of two women

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

“Yes, Auntie.   Good morning Vicar.”


“Good morning, Andy.  Happy Easter.  Bunny time again, I see.  I don’t  recall it featuring in the Gospels but charitable giving fits well with the Easter message.”  


“Yes, Reverend.”  He couldn’t wait to get away.  Jane’s parting peck on the cheek was scant consolation as he walked away clutching his basket of Easter eggs.  He’d been looking forward to going round the village with Jane.  He liked it when they held hands and were seen together.   How things had changed since she’d first put him into his bunny costume for the Village Fête all those years ago when Mayfield’s sister had visited!   He’d been so shy back then.  


At least he was now able to dispense with the whiskers.   They’d proved such a nuisance when Jane had got him selling kisses on the ‘Meet the Easter Bunny’ stall that afternoon to raise money for the church spire.  Now, all the village expected  to see him in his bunny costume at Easter, and he didn’t want to disappoint.  It was quite a snug fit these days, but it felt to him like a slipping into a comfortable second skin.  


There was something about the vicar that seemed to distract his Aunt.  He really didn’t want to know, and definitely didn’t want to play gooseberry.  set   He tried to ignore overhearing their conversation as he proceeded towards Post Office corner.   It seemed Mayfield was as concerned as ever about anything unseemly occurring in the village.   


A person and person standing in a doorway

AI-generated content may be incorrect.“But Lady Jane, it leaves so little to the imagination,” the Vicar burbled.


“Don’t worry, Mayfield.  It’s only a little tighter than the last time he wore it,” reassured his Aunt.    “And it’s Jane, not Lady Jane.”


Andy harrumphed to himself.  Yes, his bunny outfit might be a bit tighter than when he’d first worn it.  He’d filled out a little since then: too many good meals now that he was living with his Aunt.  Anyway, Will preferred him like this: ‘Something to get hold of,’ he’d say.  Andy liked being got hold of.   And it made cuddling so much nicer.


Their voices receded as he approached Miss Goddard.  "Happy Easter, Master Watson. Good morning Fifi,” she greeted    


“Hello Miss Goddard.  Oh, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“It's so nice to see our favourite Easter Bunny back to deliver our eggs this year.  It’s fantastic seeing young people in the village getting into the Easter spirit.  Lady Jane’s so good sending you round delivering Easter cheer to people who can't get out.  They'll really appreciate getting a personal Easter egg delivery."

"Thank you Miss Goddard,” beamed Andy.  “I'm off to do my rounds.   I’m seeing Mr.Peters first."

"I'm sure that will really lift his spirits.   I love how Jane puts you in the same costume each year.  So sensible and environmentally conscious.  None of this fast fashion nonsense. "

"Yes, Miss Goddard.   It wouldn't feel like Easter if I wasn't wearing this outfit."  

"Ankle boots this year I see rather than courts.   They make a nice change."

"Yes, Miss Goddard.  Much more practical on some of the farm drives."

"What are in your eggs this year?"

"Auntie’s Chocolatier did dark chocolate with a chocolate truffle filling."

"Oooh, delicious. I hope Jane gave you one too."  Andy gave an embarrassed nod.  His filling this year was rather different.    "And is Will staying with you and Jane at Fullerton Hall this Easter?"  

"He's arriving for the Church service and then joining us for Easter lunch."

"That'll be nice for you.   I hope he gives you one too."

"Oh he will, he will," said Andy with a wry little smile of anticipation and slight uncertainty about what Miss Goddard really meant.  "I must hurry.  I must finish my rounds before the service starts."

"Run along, dear.   Just watch out for Mr Jenkins' mastiff at Primrose End.   Fifi might get a special Easter present there if he gets off the lead."

"Yes, Miss Goddard," agreed Andy, “I will. I know all about Champion.  See you in church."

“Bye, bye, Andy.   See you soon.”    Miss Goddard watched Andy proceed daintily down the street towards Mr.Peters’ bungalow at the head of Glebe Close.  There was a delightful wiggle to his walk, but she was slightly bemused by the clacks and clicks that didn’t seem to coincide with the tapping of his 5” heels on the pavement.  Still it was nice to know that the boy would be getting  some cock later: he always looked so much happier when Will came to stay.   His radiant smile said it all.

Andy tightened his buttocks.   He was already feeling anxious about Jane’s Easter egg.  Hopefully a butter and sugar coating would slow its melting, but he had the rest of his deliveries and the Church service to get through before the prospect of any relief.   He didn’t want a stain developing like last year and starting to show.   He still felt sorry for the people who’d   sat in the pews behind him and Jane.   Fortunately there had been no bad smell only the rich warm aroma of cocoa, like being stood next to a luxury chocolate fountain.  He didn't have a truffle centre this year.  Something less sweet and calorific, though there’d be no fresh chocolate sauce for their ice cream dessert.  Firmer and even nicer.  This year, Jane had got her Chocolatier to coat a special BenWa egg.   Jane had presented him with his egg before she helped him into his tight, semi-translucent latex bunny costume.   She’d enjoyed easing the BenWa into him where it would nestle snuggly and pleasurably, until she left him and Will together after lunch when he’d receive his second Easter gift.  

“Stop tugging, Fifi!” said Andy firmly. “Not yet!”  Jane’s primped little mutt was sniffing the air and straining at his lead.   Was it possible the miniature poodle could already smell what Jane had agreed would be tied up for him outside Primrose End.  At this distance?  Judging by his excitement, he could.  “Are you on heat, Fifi?  I didn’t think boy doggies got on heat.”   And then he chuckled and smiled.  He was going to be seeing Will soon.   Even if boy doggies didn’t get on heat, boy bunnies certainly did.  He gave his bottom a little shake, waggling his fluffy tail and letting the egg’s vibrations create a delightful frisson.  Perhaps he should let Fifi enjoy his Easter too.

Miss Goddard was puzzled to see Andy continue past the end of Glebe Close where a lot of the village seniors lived, and head towards Primrose End at the bottom of the village.  Jane’s nephew must’ve decided to change his delivery route.   It seemed he was going to be visiting Mr.Jenkins next rather than Mr.Peters.   

A white poodle with a pink leash

AI-generated content may be incorrect.Andy opened the gate to Mr.Jenkins’ front garden and fastened Fifi’s lead to the fence.   “I don’t want you straying while I see Mr.Jenkins.” said Andy to the bijou hound.  “Not straying in that way, at least.”   He rang the front doorbell and went in to see Mr.Jenkins.   Fifi could stay there while he did the rest of his deliveries.  Coming back to Primrose End at the end of his delivery circuit would lengthen his route, but it was nice walking in these heels and wearing his BenWa egg.  It would allow Fifi some extra time with Champion too.  From the howling outside, it was clear that Champion had risen.  He’d ensure Will did later.    Happy Easter.