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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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Showing posts with label Girlie Morgane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Girlie Morgane. Show all posts

Wednesday, 11 February 2026

Wednesday fun is here

 
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Hi Everyone
   Welcome to a neat little Wednesday round up of fun items sent inro S.S.n.S towers for our collective enjoyments..
First up the continuation of Kitka's super fun reimaginings of the Sissy Corp adventures






Stay tuned, more to come soon 

The Bergman group have asked me to advertise their latest recruiting run.





From our dear friend Amber. Andy may be settling in, but some areas are still causing him stress, as the whispers continue.




Wednesday would not be right without another tale of solo travel.


Now for the next 2 chapters of Mistress Leather Beth's Awesome story 

                                 More Fun In The Village

Chapter 3

Let’s have a look around the village, with its many kinky (or otherwise) inhabitants and visitors.

The Queen Bee is, of course, Jane. For as long as anyone can remember, her taste, her style, has been smooth. Smooth and slick. Smooth and slick and shiny. The tightest, the highest, the glossiest. For the longest time she has indulged her own particular taste. Maybe not even a specifically kinky taste. Just… Jane’s.

Then we have our dear, sweet Andy. So happy nowadays as the girl that his dear aunt has always known him to be. And so very sexy. And so very lucky to have Will to provide satisfaction. To both of them. Will’s pride in having Andy as his girlfriend was there for all to see.

Will had always assumed that he was straight. But what’s a guy to do when he discovers that his best friend is the prettiest, sexiest girl he’s ever seen? A couple of adjustments to his sexual technique were more than worth it.

Kat and Jojo are a delightfully odd couple. Before meeting Jojo, Kat would have happily slept with either sex, or anyone in between. But now, with Jojo, she has every variation in one. Bisexual. Femme but not sissy, with some interesting kinks. A perfect couple. Carmel is so happy as well.

Then the Coopers. We discussed George back in ‘The Extravaganza’ (Chap. 3). “(Jane saw) a pubescent George Cooper poring over photos of Cathy Gale and Emma Peel, the odd edition of Atomage, (or even Miss Sadie Stern’s Monthly); she saw how a strong lady in leather might become a young man’s ideal female, one for whom he would happily do anything (suffer anything?). Then, years later, he meets Izzy and, to his total joy, she accepts his service.”

As for Izzy (Lady Magdalena), she had met Lois Watkins (Madame Stella), on their second day at University, and they’d immediately hit it off. Stella was a few months older, and had already taken a gap year, setting up as a Professional; while Izzy had long been aware that her destiny involved making men squirm, blush and cry. The pair had set themselves up as the Uni’s in-house Dommes (even if only semi-pro). In due course they’d graduated, Stella to the life of a jet-setting Cruella, while Izzy turned her degree into a well paid job with an up and coming businessman, George Cooper. But the friends had always kept in touch, and were now back in tandem.

And what can we say about Polly Evans? One doesn’t like to bandy a lady’s age, so let’s just say that, back when Jane was still at school with Nats and Millicent, Polly was already something of a celebrity in bondage video circles, especially among those for whom ‘knots mean orgasms’.

Chloë had been a slut for as long as she could remember. Laura, her mother, had combined ‘the talk’ with a heavy dose of encouragement, and Chloë had become an even more serious slut, of whom a certain type of mother could be proud. So Laura had been very surprised when Chloë had returned from her gap year after barely a month. The idea had been to go fucking round the Far East with Kat’s sister and cousin. But instead, she’d returned with some weird tale of excessive amounts of sex. As If. Laura had left off enquiring until Chloë had got the HotHouse job, with its access to vast amounts of kink, then one evening she’d sat her daughter down and asked what was wrong. After a few seconds silence she’d opened her laptop and started a video of a submissive girl in a dungeon.

“Your ambition?” asked Laura? Chloë, staring at the floor, had nodded. “Then we’ll have to see what can be arranged,” said Laura.

A few days later Laura had found herself chatting online to Master Karl and Mistress Debbie.

Jeremy Fortescue-Maltravers, 8th Earl of Harrogate, had always known, deep down, that his mother, the Dowager Countess, would rather have had a daughter than a son. He was still unsure as to how she got to hear of The Sisterhood, or to make the booking for their Open Weekend. He hadn’t really fancied the prospect, when he’d heard it being explained to his mother, that he had all the potential to be pretty, effeminate and submissive. But that had all changed when Madame Kane began his first makeup tutorial. Suddenly he had a gorgeous complexion, glossy crimson lips, beautiful cheekbones and sultry eyes. His mother was visibly moved. Then he was fitted with his plug, black latex maid’s dress and his 8cm heels. To his delight, he walked in them with ease. He was then taken to another room, where Madame selected a swishy cane, bent him over and raised his skirt, exhibiting his pink latex panties, which she lowered. Jeremy looked pleadingly at his mother, who merely smiled and encouraged him to be a good girl. Swish, and the first stroke landed. Jeremy bit his tongue and ground his teeth. But by the third stroke he had relaxed considerably. When Mistress told him to rise after the tenth stroke, he found himself thanking her. By the time he and his mother returned home to Knaresborough Castle a few hours later, it had already been decided that it would be as Jessica that he would return in ten days’ time to undergo maid training and full scale feminisation to include, in due course, C cup implants.

Kerry’s story was told in Chapter 2 of “The Spy Who Came Into The Pavilion, and Baby Diddum’s in Chapter 3 of The Extravaganza.”

And I bet everyone’s forgotten Budgie Anderson’s enthusiasm for a regular session in a vac bed.

Tori? As yet, nobody is sure as to her long term reaction to the death of her fiancé a couple of weeks before the wedding; sudden heart failure. It was a few years ago now, but Mayfield and other members of the family still noticed her periodic, if occasional, bouts of depression. Maybe the Royal Enfield 650 and Jessica were Tori finally taking the advice she’d often been given, to ‘loosen up’.

Martin? Just a classic example of a teenage boy attracted to the pleasures of dressing, he had been caught by his mother. But instead of tears and anger, there was encouragement, pride even. Martina would qualify as a ‘handsome’ girl. Not beautiful, like Andy or Jessica. Not hot, like Kerry. But definitely more than just passable (as well as being very well hung).


“MARTIN! yelled Derek, the foreman, as the convoy arrived back at the vicarage. “Where the heck (for the benefit of Mayfield) have you been?” Derek had seen enough vicars in this job to be able to spot one a mile off.

“Sorry, Derek, but you did ask me to get the key from the vicar.”

“You weren’t supposed to spend half the day on it,” said Derek, attempting, without staring, to get a good eyeful of the two ladies with whom Martin had shared the bike, although the entire return round trip had taken a mere thirty seconds.

“Well, here it is,” said Martin, handing over the key.

“Just as well we had an external inspection to perform. Otherwise I’d have had to explain to the gaffer what the flip we’d been doing all day.”

“Erm,” said Mayfield, “is it safe to take a look round the inside?”

“Well”, said Derek, “now that we have access, just let me get my blokes to give it a quick safety check, and I don’t see why not.”


While they were waiting, Kerry strolled over to Andy. “Can I have a word?”

“Is it about Martin?”

“So, you’ve noticed?”

“Well, you know what they say. It takes one to know one,” said Andy.

“Excuse me,” said Will, “but what are you two on about?”

The fembois glanced at each other and giggled.

“Sorry, Will, but you don’t have our advantage,” smiled Andy.

Will frowned and tried his serious face. “Please. Explain.”

Another glance. “OK,” said Andy. “It’s Martin over there.” 

“What about him?” asked Will.

“He’s a femboi.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you two would know, I suppose,” he replied.

“But I suspect he’s not very experienced,” said Andy.

“Exactly,” agreed Kerry.

“So are you two planning to offer help,” asked Will.

“I’d like to, but I can’t see how it’s going to be practical,” said Kerry. Andy nodded.


A short time later, Martin distributed hard hats and hi-viz jackets while Derek explained that, for safety considerations, only the ground floor was accessible. Everyone trooped inside, and soon there were gasps of “Ooh,” and “Ah” and “Aww” as people pointed out, and commented on, the holes in the ceiling, the squelchy carpet, the numerous damp patches and all the other signs of the considerable damage inflicted by the deluge.

To be fair, people’s curiosity was quickly replaced by feelings of sadness at Mayfield’s predicament, and they withdrew after just a few minutes.

Mayfield was plainly upset, and took himself off to Choudhury’s for a packet of chocolate digestives, as much for the exercise as for needing to shop. It was Jane who spoke up. “What happens next?” she asked.

“Well,” said Derek, “before we can even begin to think about repairs, the whole building needs to be completely dried out. We’re looking at using nine, maybe ten dehumidifying units, and we’ll be needing to take readings at least twice a day, which will involve a member of the team spending a good few hours a day travelling to and from the depot. The procedure will take at least three weeks.”

Will had a lightbulb moment. “It seems to me that a resident reading taker would be a good idea, just sending you regular texts. Oo, I’ve just had a thought. Do you think you could spare Martin? I’m sure we could find room for him.”

He glanced across at Jane and gave her a subtle nod. She trusted Will well enough to immediately say “What a good idea. Would that be OK with you, Martin?”

Martin’s first reaction was to glance across at Jessica, before stuttering, “If…, if it’s OK with Derek…”

“Actually,” said Derek, “that would work quite well.”

“Good,” said Jane. “Martin can pack himself a bag when he pops home later today, and we’ll pick could him up at an agreed rendezvous. I imagine he’ll be here by the time the equipment arrives in the morning. And then, later on today, I was thinking that we might stroll down to The Beeches and welcome our new neighbour to the village.”


The story will continue after this quick Ad break. 

Back to the story



More Fun In The Village

Chapter 4


Jane and Tori had waited until Martin had disappeared round the back of the vicarage and started some little job requiring the use of a wheelbarrow. Then Jane had said, “Andy. Will. Kerry. A word please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The three had gathered round, expecting a stern talking to. “Is there something you want to tell us?” she’d asked.

“Erm, well, Auntie…,” said Andy.

“It’s just that…,” said Will.

It was Kerry who went straight to the point. “Martin is an inexperienced femboy, and we’re looking for ways to help.”

“Thank you, Kerry, dear. I wondered how long it would take you all to notice.”

“You mean you’d spotted him?”

“Of course,” said Jane, rolling her eyes slightly.

“And you are OK with him staying with us?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a very good idea. I take it that you’ve spoken to Jessica.”

“Jessica?” asked Andy.

“You’ve not noticed their ‘connection’?”

“Connection?”

“Just watch them together,” said Jane.

“Shall I go and find her?” asked Tori.

“I have a few little things to do,” said Jane. “Shall we say in the kitchen back at the hall, in twenty minutes?”

“We’ll all meet there, then.” Jane got into Matilda and set off towards the Hall while Andy and Will, holding hands, began the stroll back to The Hall, and Tori got on the Royal Enfield and set off to pick up Mayfield from Choudhury’s.


“Wait a minute,” said Jessica, “you’re overlooking something.”

With that, she peeled down her latex panties for the second time that morning and bent over.

“Sorry? What? Oh, I see”, said Martina. And thirty seconds later, Jessica was de-plugged.

It was some ten minutes later that Tori, having deposited Mayfield in Jane’s care, reappeared and set off to locate Jessica. She walked around the back of the house to check on whether she was ogling Martin but could see neither of them. She then widened her search. A couple of hundred yards away, in the direction of the village, she realised that the sounds coming through the hedge from a neighbouring field were almost drowning out the birdsong. She reached a small gate providing access to the field, and that is where she found Martin balls deep inside Jessica, who was leaning, whimpering against an oak tree. Martin’s piston-like movements made the extent of his endowment quite clear.

During her time as a Sisterhood trainee several Mistresses had introduced Jessica to the pleasures of the strap on, but this was a quite different pleasure. Martina was plainly a femboy or sissy, yet he was also very well hung, with a taste for ass. She thought to herself, ‘Oh, I could quite enjoy being the kinky slut he uses for experimentation’, before the seeing-to that she was receiving from Martina began to swirl round her brain and slowly bring her to orgasm.

For Martin, this was almost unbelievable. From being a somewhat effeminate, if well hung, virgin with a collection of kinks, he suddenly seemed to have a gorgeous girlfriend who was at least as kinky as him.

Tori watched, fascinated. As he came, Martina seemed to penetrate even deeper, before withdrawing. The pair finally wound up enjoying a deep kiss which displayed obvious affection. Then, as Martin knelt down behind Jessica and began to clean her out with his tongue, Tori called over, “OK! you two, be in the kitchen at the Hall in no more than ten minutes!”

By the time the two had got over their shock and panic, Tori was already approaching the Hall’s front door.

“Are they on their way?” asked Jane.

“They will be when they’ve ‘uncoupled,’ said Tori, meaningfully.

“You mean they were…?” asked Jane.

“Very much so,” grinned Tori.

Jane raised the eyebrow, whilst Andy, Will and Kerry – sat at the kitchen table over a plate of Andy’s flapjacks - made it plain by their expressions that they were, shall we say, a little taken aback.


It was a couple of minutes later that the breathless couple appeared in the kitchen.

“Oh, Miss Tori, Lady Jane, we’re so sorry. We didn’t mean to, you know, but we got overtaken by, you know…,” stuttered Jessica.

Once again, Jane’s expressive eyebrow came into play. “Jessica, dear, that’s not why you’ve been summoned. The pair of you, sit down.”

Jessica: “?”

Jane turned to Martin. “Martina, dear, would you describe yourself as a sissy? A femboy? Oh, don’t look so surprised. It’s quite obvious.”

“Aunt Jane recognised my femininity long before I acknowledged it,” said Andy.

“And my mother gave me her total support from the first time she caught me in heels,” added Kerry.

Martina’s chin dropped far enough to exhibit her tonsils. It had never occurred to her that Andy and Kerry were anything other than very attractive young women and, without Jessica’s earlier ‘display’, she would have included her in the same category.

“I don’t know what to say,” croaked Martina.

“There’s nothing to say,” said Jane. “Just be aware that anyone who wishes to be femme is both welcome and encouraged in this house. I’m sure that Jessica will be more than pleased to keep you company.”

“Thank you,” they said.

“Now,” said Kerry, “our plan is to help Martin to be the best Martina she can. If that’s OK with you.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Martin.

“Good,” said Jane, “my first suggestion is that Tori gives Jessica a maintenance caning, so that Martina can see what she’s letting herself in for in that area. Would a good strapping suit you, Martina, dear?”

Martina could only manage a vigorous nod.

“My second suggestion is that Andy, Jessica and Kerry then take Martina upstairs and check her make up skills. As the instigators of this enterprise, I’m sure that they’ll be more than happy. I’m right?”

This time it was Andy and Kerry’s turn to nod.

“In the meantime we’ll drop in at The Beeches and make our new neighbour welcome.”


Jane’s biker didn’t quite match her Freddys but, as far as she was concerned, that was its problem. To Jane, she was ideally dressed. She picked up Jessica’s helmet and she and Tori walked outside. They climbed aboard the Royal Enfield and set off on the short journey to The Beeches.

The removal men were transferring the last few items from the van to the house as Jane simultaneously knocked on the door and rang the bell. It took a few seconds for a figure to appear and Jane was just about to introduce herself when her new neighbour said, “Why, Jane, how lovely to see you again.”

Jane’s initial reaction was shock. “Siobhan? Is that you? You’re moving into The Beeches?”

“I am indeed. How is your friend, the vicar? Fully recovered?”

“Recovered?” asked Tori. “Sorry, is it Mayfield we’re talking about?”

“Siobhan, this is Tori, Mayfield’s sister.”

“Yes,” said Siobhan. “I was at an event in the village a couple of weeks ago at the Grange, and the vicar came across us. He tripped and banged his head. At first Jane thought he was seriously hurt, but it turned out he’d just stumbled, banged his head against the rear door handle and mildly concussed himself.

“Tori, I should just point out that Siobhan is a Consultant in Emergency Medicine.”

Tori was about to react when Siobhan interjected, “Actually, Jane, I’m no longer at Woking. I’ve been appointed as President of the Royal College of Emergency Medicine. That’s partly why I moved here, to be closer to the direct train. As well as the fascination of this village, if you know what I mean. I’d invite you inside, but the house isn’t really habitable yet.”

“Oh, don’t mention uninhabitable,” said Jane, and proceeded to update Siobhan on the flood at the vicarage. “In fact, if you’re in an awkward spot, and not ready to return to your current home for a couple of days, you’re welcome to join us at the Hall for a night or two. We have the space, and you can get to know the village from a different point of view. Different from the Extravaganza, I mean.”


Martina and Jessica left Kerry’s room, leaving Andy and Kerry staring at each other. “Well,” said Kerry, “We didn’t quite expect that, did we?”

“Not at all,” said Andy. “Amy Winehouse? Really? Wonderful singer, great personality, of course, but I’ve never imagined Martina as Amy.”

“She’s what he’s always dreamed of, apparently,” said Kerry. “I’ve had more than a couple of boyfriends who’ve made certain suggestions as to my make up regime and wardrobe, but I’ve not let them bully me. I’m Kerry, not some hot guy’s fantasy.”

“But Aunt Jane wanted us to help Martina, and you can’t deny that we’ve made a good job of our assignment. Those eyes, those lips,” said Andy. “She still needs the correct lashes though, and it isn’t really Amy without the beauty spot.”

“True,” said Kerry. “We’ll need to get him sorted in the next few weeks while he’s here. Let’s just hope that Jessica still gets off on him as Amy. He took to those 12cm heels like he’d been born in them. And while we’re discussing him, I think one of us should offer Martina a plug. I don’t know that he has one yet and I think he would appreciate it, and Jessica would have a lot of fun fitting him.”

“Good idea,” said Andy.


“By the way, Siobhan,” asked Jane, “how is the Ponygirl troupe coming along? Busy?” She then explained to Tori. 

“Sir Roderick’s? No, we’ve had a problem.”

“What sort of problem, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Jane.

“Our esteemed leader, Sir Roderick, AKA Clive Horrabin, has just started a four year four month prison sentence for theft and multiple other offences.” Siobhan’s smile contained no hint of humour whatsoever.

“Was it expected?” asked Jane.

“What,” asked Siobhan, “a scrap metal merchant being sent down for theft and receiving stolen property? No, not at all.”

“An inconvenience, though?” asked Jane.

“Very much so,” said Siobhan. “It’s a very traditional world. As Head of stables, I did all the hard slog, but Clive was the public face.”

“Ah,” said Jane, “the old misogyny problem. Have you tried just taking over?”

“I’d very much like to,” said Siobhan, “if for no other reason than the care of the girls. A lot of them actually need to be ponies. To be tail plugged, hooved, etc. You remember Misty? Nurse Emma Carter? She’s taken it really badly. I think of her, and the girls like her, as my charges. As I understand it, this village is a haven for quite a few residents with special requirements, so they’ll understand. That is one of the main reasons why I leapt at buying The Beeches.” Jane cast her mind to The Fullerton Arms, and Josie Atlee’s periodic need to be Cottontail, the latex rabbit.

“Why don’t we stroll up to the Hall? We can discuss the village in more detail there.” Said Jane. “Tori, you’ll be OK on the bike?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Tori. “I’ll see you up there in a few minutes.”

With that, the removal van having pulled away, Siobhan made everything secure, and they set off.

“Obviously,” she said, “there’s no overall national governing body for pony troupes, so would it really make any difference if you just took over?”

“In the simplest terms, probably not, but things are rarely that simple,” said Siobhan. 


Tune in next week for the conclusion

And holding everything up on its powerful but elegant shoulders, are three new Translations of my own art by the amazing Girlie Morgane.











Wednesday, 15 October 2025

Midweek delight

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our blog alive.
From only $4 a month





Hi Everyone
    Welcome to a quick Wednesday treat with all our faves. Actually I should be getting some sleep but what the heck, I just love to share.
    So lets lead off with a couple of sweet images created for us by  our dear friend Amber,She captures Andy so well with her Ai skills.



Can't help but think Andy looks a little nervous in this one.



So lets follow that with a tri of images from Matty Caff. Each one a treat.






So now let us get out the shiny Lens and see who we can pickup harbouring a secret fetish for those shiny things we all adore.

Amanda Holden began her new game show in style






Before we spread our net wider lets take a moment to enjoy a few sweet Translations from our dear Girlie Morgane. It gives us a chance to take a trip back in time.





Look out the lens has cast its light back in time, back to when Susanna had dark hair and that naughty look in her eye and we can now see why.





Good Morning Britain indeed, but over on the other side we find BBC breakfast presenter Sally Nugent keeping her shiny fetish for her online posts.



We will keep our eye glued to the Lens for you but now keep your own eyes glued here, because it is time for Skinnie Stallion to entertain us, with a tale based on a piece of my own art shared here  a few weeks ago.



A deal's, a deal, Andy

By Skinnie Stallion


Another week over at College, no sooner had Andy got to his Aunt's to spend the weekend than she proffered him a pair of high heels.  Louboutin high heels.  "Time to put these on young man."

A person holding shoes in her hand

AI-generated content may be incorrect."What? I can't wear those!" he exclaimed.   All he wanted was a cup of tea or a Diet Coke, not another of his Auntie's games.


"Can I just remind you what we agreed on the drive back from *Catherine's last week, Andrew?"

"Oh!  Yes, but I didn't think you were serious.   I thought you were just having a laugh."

"We were having fun, but I was being serious.  Totally serious.   You said you liked Cindy and how she looked."

"I did.  I thought she looked fabulous."

"And that you'd like to look her...."

"Well, I was admiring her .....

"... and that you'd like to look like her ......"

"... well, I never thought ...."

"Andrew, I know you go through my things upstairs when you come to stay.   I know you like to  try them on.   Remember, I have caught you on several occasions...."

"Yes, but ......"   Andy blushed.   He could even remember going up to her bedroom and trying on the very skirt she was wearing today.   He’d worn that burgundy leatherette skirt while she was meeting with a friend downstairs.   He’d even tried it with a matching pair of her heels.   It was so fortunate that he was the same size as his Aunt - both sevens: it was if their stars were aligned.   The skirt and heels had looked so good together when he admired himself in her floor length mirror.  Did his Aunt know what she did to him when she wore skirts and heels like that?  Like right now.   He was sure she did.   

"We made a deal: you were going to dress like Cindy for me."

"Yes, but ........"

"A deal's, a deal, Andy.   I want you to want you to put these on.   I want you to get used to wearing and walking in heels.   Remember how well Cindy walked in hers."


"I do."   For a moment Andy went into a reverie thinking about Cindy.  All week he'd been trying not to think about Cindy.  He got horny thinking about Cindy.  More than horny.  Worse than horny.   Was Cindy really a boy?  Jeremy?  A boy like him?  He only wanted to think of Jeremy as Cindy.  It made things easier.  It made things less uncomfortable.   It made his attraction more explicable.   But it didn't explain why he felt a yearning to look like Cindy.  A deep longing.   A longing that he wanted to keep locked away.  A longing to look like a girl.    A longing that his Aunt had long ago detected.   His inner secrets.   His inner desires.   So much worse than horny.  He half turned away from his Aunt.   He didn't want her to see how he was reacting to his thoughts and to having those heels so near to him. "Well here you are.  I want you to be able to walk like me.   Or like Cindy if you prefer to think of it that way.  And I’m sure you think about Cindy a lot,” she said teasingly.      “Please put these on, or you're going to have a very unhappy Auntie all weekend."

"If you insist, Auntie." 

"And tomorrow, we can go out and buy you a maid's dress.   I've found a little place in town that does them for girls........ and boys.  And I expect you to be wearing your heels when we go there."

"Aww, Auntie!"


"A deal's, a deal, Andy."

Grudgingly Andy extended his hand to take the shoes.   He tried to hide his excitement that they weren't So Kates like his Aunt wore almost all the time but new Miss Zs.   And 120s not 100s.    Did Auntie know he preferred higher heels?  Did she find those more frequently out of place in her racks?  Yes, she'd know.   She always knew.


XXX

Andy


Wednesday, 1 October 2025

Wednesday fun

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Hi Everyone
   Welcome to a wednesday round up with some fun pieces from faces old and new. We have Translations from the lovely Girlie Morgane and few fun images from long time reader Matty Caff. We get tyhe shiny lens out again and then we have one of my fave stories  story from Skinnie stallion and that is saying something.
   But before we go on I would like you to be prepared because over the coming weeks we will have other writers to join the fun. I am trying to get time to read Mistress Leather Beths latest offering, which I have no doubt at all will be amazing, plus our dear friend Notatrog has written a quite superb piece weaving my art together with a little twist. Bu tI will let Notatrog explain that in a few weeks.
In the meantime.


Lets kick off with some fun from Girlie Morgane




Before Amanda Holden and Rhys Jenner Andy was too sweet to eat


Now 3 little pieces from Matty Caff





Now lets take that shiny lens and cast it across some of out favourite blog legends and who's this? It's only out most beautiful future Queen,the stunning  Princess Catherine. She is so beautiful
  

But wait....is that the Queen of the blog? we cast the Lens and this is what happens 



What's that you say? it would not be the same without who?
Well here is Vorder's as featured in a recent magazine piece. Doe's anyone remember this moment? 
 

Enough of this frippery I hear you cry, where is Skinnie and that story based on art created for the patreon featuring the Hermione Doll
 Be calm for here it is
Enjoy
XXX
Andy


Hermione Stranger: Hermione Danger 

By Skinnie Stallion    

(Version 2)

1. Thursday morning


Rachel was very happy with how Steve had turned out.   With a clear, invisible coat rather than their standard black latex epoxy, the workshops had done him proud.   The Emma Watson mask and wig designed by the make-up girls looked perfect.   She’d enjoyed dressing Steve before the shift started.  As she expected, the girls in the workshop had already plugged him.   She asked maintenance to mount him on the podium and brought out the ‘My Hermione Barbie’ banner.  She wanted to get Steve out on the floor and management sign-off before doors opened.  


When she was happy that she’d got Steve positioned just right, she asked her floor supervisor to come over.   She was easy to spot in her pink blazer briefing some of the newer B&K Boys.  “So this is what I’ve done for the Dollification promotion, Madam Stamp” she advised.  “I present to you the ‘My Hermione Barbie’.  With the 25th anniversary next year, we thought the Emma Watson doll template would be ideal to use in a dedicated promotion for the new My Barbie Boy Dollification range.”



Rachel waited nervously while Madam Stamp inspected the display.  Anything going out on the floor needed her approval.  Rachel’s nerves settled quickly as she watched a beaming smile grow on her supervisor’s face.  “That’s very impressive Rachel.   Choose four from those whose guardians failed to tick the ‘No Display’ option.”   She examined again the startled face of the mannequin.   “God, I love that.  Is that really Steve Ranger in there?  I wouldn’t have known.   Have you needed to put his Hummer on high to achieve that look or is it in the mould?”


“Mostly in the mould, but I did think keeping him on a medium setting will be nice for him and help to keep his mouth gaping,” replied Rachel turning at the sound of the shutters going up and store’s doors opening.  


“Good idea,” agreed Madam Stamp.  “It could get very messy if he’s on high all day.  A few little moans won’t matter.”  


“Should I speak to HR to go through the boys’ application forms?” Rachel asked.


“Yes, please do.”  Both Madam Stamp and Rachel noted that a small crowd was starting to form around them and the display.  There was already a buzz of excitement developing. “And don’t take too long about it.   If you can’t find any with ‘No Display’ unchecked, just select some of the newest Boys, or more experienced ones who may like going back to being mannequins.   I’m sure many of our Boys long to look like Emma Watson, especially an Emma Watson in latex.  I want them out on the floor by tomorrow afternoon, if possible, to catch the weekend shoppers.  And Rachel, darling ….”


“Yes, Madam Stamp?” answered with surprise; she was unused to be called ‘darling’ by Madam Stamp.  She was clearly in her good books today.


“Transparent is fine for the upper half and as an undercoat, but please have the boys dipped up to the waist in our traditional black. I think the Emmas’ legs would look better if they were wearing black latex stockings and they’ll blend in better with our standard mannequins.”

“Yes, Madam Stamp,” replied Rachel already wondering why she hadn’t thought of that herself.  Shiny black latex legs would look better.  She guessed that was why Madam Stamp was a supervisor and she wasn’t.   Maybe it would come with experience.



2. Saturday morning


As he shaved his legs, Oscar hoped that this was going to be his big break.   If he could just get the inside story, he could stop being a freelance.  He could become the youngest cub reporter on the Argus.   The story might even find its way to Fleet Street.   He just needed to get that scoop.   


Yesterday he’d heard about the crush outside one of the stores in town.   He’d tried to get through the crowds but it was too near closing time and they weren’t allowing any more people into the store.   Bergman and Knightley.  A fashion store.  An upmarket fashion store.   Very exclusive.   And yet there were hordes of young girls and boys outside, and many older women.   There was lots of talk about Harry Potter and Hermione.  It seemed as if Bergman and Knightley had become like Madam Tussaud’s.   But what had caught his ear was a rumour.   A familiar rumour that he’d heard before in some bars.   He’d even heard something similar in the playground when he was still ay school from boys who had Saturday jobs or had older brothers.  Rumours that some of the sales assistants at Bergman and Knightley were actually boys.  Rumours that some of the mannequins on the shop floor were actually boys encased in a hard lacquer.  He had to get into the store today and find out of the rumours were true.   He had to get that story.



3. Sunday morning


Rachel knocked hesitantly on Madam Short’s door.  She hated going to see the Floor Manager but Sunday was Madam Stamp’s day off this week. There was a pause then a peremptory bark of “Enter.”  Simone went in feeling like a naughty schoolgirl on the carpet before the Headmistress for a reprimand or punishment.  “What is it?” the stern looking blonde lady asked.  “Chloe, isn’t it?  Chloe Collins?”

Simone couldn’t help but be impressed by how Madam Short remembered the names of all the floor staff: all the more permanent B&K Girls like her, and all the B&K Boys even the new ones despite the numbers coming though these days.  “It’s about the Hermiones for the Dollification Promotion, Madam Short.”

“What about the Hermiones?” the martinet asked sternly.


“Well, when I spoke to my supervisor during the week, she wanted four of the new Hermiones put out on the floor.”


“Yes, Madam Stamp told me.   Very fitting they look too.  Perfect for our Emma Watson tribute.  We do need to catch up with B⚥y? in that regard.”

“So I arranged on Friday to put out Nigel Ford, Steve Ranger, Jacob Nightingale and Simone Simmons.  None of them had ticked the right boxes except Simone who volunteered to be a Hermione.   Madam Stamp had wanted the Hermiones to have latex coated legs like our other mannequins so I needed to get Nigel and Simone dipped, Steve redipped, and Jacob solvent dipped to take off his full black epoxy coat then redipped in transparent and then black dipped to the waist.”


“This is all very commendable Miss Collins, but what are you trying to tell me?”


“Well, the workshops managed to redip Steve overnight on Thursday, and dip and plug Nigel on Friday morning so that he was out for the lunchtime shoppers.”

“Yes, both looked very fetching,” commented Madam Short.   “There were so many people in the store yesterday afternoon after the schools finished for the day. Word must’ve got around quickly.  So many young girls wanting to see the Hermiones.”


“Yes, but the workshops got rather stuck on Jacob.   It took longer than they expected getting him clean in the solvent tank so that they didn’t manage to dip him again till yesterday evening, and they never got to Simone.”


“So that was why we still only had two Hermiones out on Saturday?” queried Madam Short.

“That’s right,” confirmed Rachel.   “I let Simone go home yesterday evening since she had a date with her boyfriend, and I thought it would be nice for her to get a good hard fucking before she spends the next six weeks as a plugged Hermione Barbie Doll.”


“Quite,” agreed Madam Stamp.  “But I’m still not clear what the problem is, Miss Collins.”


“Well, last night we had two Hermiones on the shop floor.   This morning we have three.”


“What!?” exclaimed Madam Short.

“We now have three Hermiones.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time.  But how?” challenged Madam Short.


“I don’t know.  I checked the workshops and Jacob is hung up over the drip tray drying, and enjoying a few last moments with his plug on high before he’s dressed and put out on the floor.  I called Danielle on her mobile and she was still in bed with her boyfriend getting what sounded like a very nice wake-up call.  So somehow, we’ve acquired a new Hermione overnight.”

“You have to show me,” commanded Madam Short standing up from her desk and marching towards her office door.   Rachel followed.   It was obvious Madam Short was on the warpath.


Rachel guided Madam Short across the floor to the first station.  “So this is Nigel Ford.  I posed him as Hermione about to duel: legs spread and wand erect.”

“Excellent.  If it weren’t for this difficulty, I’d be proposing to Madam Stamp that you and he receive a bonus for this alone.  He looks so dynamic.  Quite the action doll.   That’s how we want customers to see our Dollies.”

“Thank you Madam Short.”



“Hold on, you haven’t got it yet, young lady.  Who’s next?  We need to get this sorted before the store opens.  Thank goodness for ten o’clock opening on Sunday.”


Rachel shepherded Madam Stamp towards the second stand where a Hermione stood proudly in a latex robe bearing her Gryffindor crest.  A wide eyed, slightly startled look was etched on the Hermione’s face.


“This Steve Ranger,” said Rachel.



“Very nice too,” said Madam Short, “ but where’s his wand?”


“I don’t know, Madam Short.  I’m sure he had one yesterday at closing, but the schoolgirls do keep taking them.   I carry a few spares on me because of all the replacements we’ve needed,” said Rachel reaching behind her to draw a wand from her waistband.


“No, leave it for now,” said Madam Stamp.   “Let me see the third please.”


Rachel led her across to a platform without a banner beside it.  “This is our mystery Hermione.”


“I see” said Madam Short looking closely at the unlabelled Hermione doll in a perfect latex dress brandishing a wand.  She turned to look at the other two Hermiones.   Rachel stayed silent while Madam Short pondered.  Eventually she spoke, “Not quite a three pipe problem, as Sherlock Holmes used to say, but a poser nevertheless.  You said that Madam Stamp had wanted all the Hermiones to be black latex dipped to the waist.”



“Yes, Madam Short,” replied Rachel.


“And plugged too?”


“Yes,” said Rachel,  “with our standard Hummingbird.”


“Hmmm.  Please can you call Security, Miss Collins?”


“Certainly Madam Short.”  Rachel worried that the Guards were going to be for her and that she about to be put into the disciplinary system.   She returned shortly accompanied by several security guards.  Others appeared to cover the exits.  


“Now let’s go back to Steve Ranger again, please?”   As they strolled back to the second stand, Madam Short said, “I assume you leave their Hummers off overnight.  Is that correct?” 


“Yes, Madam Short,” confirmed Rachel.


“Good.   Please turn Steve’s Hummer up to Maximum Thrust,” instructed Madam Stamp as they stood beside the robed mannequin.


“Maximum?  No build up?  And Thrust not Vibrate?” enquired Rachel, aware of what a fierce jolt it would give the boy.


“Maximum Thrust!” repeated Madam Short sounding like a drill sergeant.  “And that was an order not a request.”    Rachel moved the slider on her iPad.   A few yards away there was first a moan as the unlabelled Hermione convulsed and then a crash as the mannequin toppled sideways to the ground.  Security raced to pick-up the collapsed boy.  


Rachel was shocked.   Steve Ranger hadn’t moved.   “Turn it down now, please,” ordered Madam Stamp.   While Rachel adjusted the slider again, Madam Short stood behind Steve and eased aside his Hermione robe.   “I thought you said, all Hermiones were black latex dipped to the waist and plugged.”  Before Rachel could reply, Madam Short thrust a finger upwards through his latex panties into his bottom.   “But seemingly not as this one,” as a male voice screamed out in excruciating pain.



4. Sunday Afternoon 


Rachel had never been so grateful that Sunday was a short day and that the store closed at three o’clock.   It might have been a short day but it had been eventful.   Eventful but with a bonus: she would soon have five Hermiones on the shop floor for the Dollification promotion.


The interrogation hadn’t taken long.   The impostor had been bundled into a back room by Security.   It might be a medieval approach but Madam Short knew that the old instruments worked without fail: he cracked merely at the sight of the anal pear.   He immediately blurted that he was a reporter trying to infiltrate Bergman and Knightley.  A reporter intent on defaming Bergman and Knightley and its good work with young men. He’d got into the store on Saturday and had hidden at closing time   The workshop had been locked but he’d found an Emily Watson mask in a side-room. He’d taken a Hermione dress from the racks and then shuffled poor Steve aside to assume his place.   Somehow he’d eluded Security who must’ve mistaken him for one of the ‘regular’ Hermiones.  He protested that they couldn’t detain him but Madam Short had other ideas when he revealed he was just a freelance and no-one knew about the story he was working on.  


By eleven o’clock, Jacob was dressed and out on the shop floor.   By twelve o’clock, the intruder had been plugged and dipped.  By two o’clock, he was dry and Rachel started to dress him.   By three o’clock after closing, maintenance were ready to move him out on to floor to be in place for opening on Monday.  At four o’clock, Rachel admired her handiwork and adjusted the slider on her iPad.   Oscar would have gasped as the plug in his bottom started to vibrate except he couldn’t.  He was unable to move his jaw.  His whole body was held rigid in a latex epoxy casing but Rachel could see him quivering.   Everything was in working order.  She lowered the vibration setting and gave him a little good night kiss.   Her newest and unplanned Hermione. 





As Rachel sat on her bus home, she opened her iPad and Oscar’s Hummingbird surged back into life.   Oscar couldn’t believe what was happening to him.   His investigation had turned into a nightmare.  He was trapped.  No-one knew he was here.  No-one would recognise him behind his Emma Watson mask.   And despite all that, he was being remotely teased into a state of sexual excitement like he’d never experienced before.  He would have been embarrassed except there was no-one to see him or know it was him in the deserted store.


And it had all been a waste of time.   There was never going to be a scoop.   Apparently it was common knowledge that Bergman and Knightley as their sales assistants.   It just happened that  Bergman’s dressed them all as girls.  How had he missed that?


As he soundlessly moaned with pleasure and despair at the relentless pulse of his Hummingbird, little did he know that tomorrow morning, the Bergman and Knightley Sales Team would be posting his details in their next auction catalogue.   While he might not be a trained B&K Boy, there were buyers and Harry Potter fans in the Far East who would appreciate their very own Hermione Doll.   In six week’s time, part of his wish would be fulfilled: he’d no longer be a Hermione mannequin on the shop floor.   Instead, in six week’s time, he would be sold, crated and despatched to an ardent Emma Watson fan for a handsome price.  There was a story to be had about human traffic if he had known.  Now he would become his very own story.







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