Please read the disclaimer at the bottom of the page.
Showing posts with label Forced Feminization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Forced Feminization. Show all posts
Saturday, September 26, 2020
Saturday, August 29, 2020
A Warning [READ THE TEXT BELOW THE IMAGE]
THE CONTENTS OF THE CAPTION IS ONLY RELEVANT TO WHAT IS WRITTEN BELOW, AND BOTH ARE FROM THE VIEWPOINT OF THE NARRATOR. I DO NOT HATE TRANSFORMATIONAL ARTISTS AND I APPRECIATE THEIR WORK.
My knowledgeable correspondent called me and told me “to witness a justice served”. He is pretty much fixated on those abusing their transformative powers, as a part of his detective work investigating all those underground transformation ability-users and above-ground communities. I’m more familiar with transgender stuff, and when he told me the whole process will be much of my interest I immediately hopped onto my car, following him.
One of the safe houses his team has is large enough to hold a chamber for interrogating the captured. Well, this time, he told me, is a serial transformation abilities user who had a particularly notorious record of randomly zipping hapless victims far-away, with a wide range of the ways and end results he had used and done. So incredible, describing them will fill a whole volume.
His arms were tied to the back, blindfolded and gagged. His body was sedated and barely moving. “Move him off to that large glass tank,” he instructed me to help while untying the knot behind the chair. Even in a coma, we still felt the warmth and wobbling weight of the “convict”. The tank had no water but filled almost to the brim with a kind of sugar cube-like salt. The chamber was dim, but the salt still glittered and illuminated the place mildly, flashing like a rainbow, and with a slight gem-like translucence. I might had seen it somewhere before…
Stepping up to the right level, he then told me, “Leave him here”, eyeing the small platform tied to chains. We were careful not to touch the pool of crystal. He lowered the chains and sank the body below the unnatural prisms. The salt swallowed that body like quicksand, sucking and burying the body in, radiantly shining wherever the flesh was touched. “He’s done, get ourselves a drink”, he signaled.
A while later we were back in the chamber, slipping from small flasks of beer. “You’ll see what I mean by “a punishment worse than death sentence”. He raised the platform, much lighter than a medium-build man should be. The body’s hands were still tied, the blindfold and tape were still there, barely moving. But who was it, the one he captured certainly had no soiled safari hat, not the two bright feathers almost falling out? Not the clothing either, the dull red shirt and shorts he had. And I couldn’t even tell if that was a boy or a girl (not even the wimp I just saw), androgynous dark hair and a childish figure. They’d fit into the surrounding wilderness, maybe complete with a blank memory and eagerness to explore the woods. Black gloves and a backpack, make no mistake! The punished was gone, but not so much.
“Incredible! What were you thinking when you bought this tank of transformative crystals? And you are simply using this on him?”
“Ever seen Jurassic Park? Those nearly magical crystals are from a similar facility, partly open as a safari to tourists, off the coast of Japan out of business a few years ago. They used to have loads of wildlife there, trying to experiment with this substance. Something catastrophic happened and the facility was abandoned, nay, destroyed.”
“How does that substance end up here?”
“Some miners are willing to be paid lucrative wages to be on the archipelago, mining them at the threat of unknown mutated wildlife there.”
“Well…” That account wasn’t barely coherent. Maybe he had better contacts in the deep, being more of animate transformation man than myself, but a mineral that’s guaranteed to be more highly priced than diamond for the same woes my correspondent condemned? What was he, another of the transformational predators… on the top of the food chain?
“Well… I just can’t swallow what you have just done. Quite unethical to be blunt”. I told him.
“You haven’t seen the real power of this crystal. You will see what will be done next to compensate the animalized victims.” He signaled me again to remove the tank, the body resting on top of the pool. I couldn’t hesitate, his eyes already sternly focused on my torso.
“As you want.”
Out in the woods, he suddenly kicked over and threw half of the contents of the tank over the patch of grass, the body bumping out. “Oh hey! What are you really thinking?” “You haven’t seen the full potential of this starry sand. In a week some girls right out of the undergrowth will roam here, and I will do a service for the lost.”
I couldn’t even muster my courage to stare at this fiend. I quickly speeded away from the safe house, with only an excuse and farewell, and back into my driver’s seat.
What was the worst that has happened after I left?
A raccoon searched through the leaves and branches for something. It wandered around, almost aimlessly, until it saw a rough, glowing outline of a heap. It quickly sneaked towards the pile, where a cover-like and cloud-colored thing rolled off.
A treasure?
(If you look at the name of the image file or the tags I have already given the game away.)
Please read the disclaimer at the bottom of the page.
Tuesday, August 11, 2020
Monday, August 10, 2020
Thursday, August 6, 2020
Wednesday, August 5, 2020
InstaWaifu!
A friend of mine leads the development team of this amazing app and he wants to use my space to advertise that.
He promised me "3 months free" and "extendable as much as you like it". Cool.
For you readers of my DA and blog he's giving out this code for a long 14-day trial: Roco20Promo (enter it right before the Google Play purchase screen shows up, you'll see where you should enter it.)
He promised me "3 months free" and "extendable as much as you like it". Cool.
For you readers of my DA and blog he's giving out this code for a long 14-day trial: Roco20Promo (enter it right before the Google Play purchase screen shows up, you'll see where you should enter it.)
Please read the disclaimer at the bottom of the page.
Friday, July 31, 2020
Friday, April 3, 2020
Monday, February 3, 2020
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Firmware Reinstallation App and Subjugation
Travis searched on the App Store for that new app a few in the TG
community talked about. It’s basically firmware update, but now done on a
phone. He downloaded the free trial version which gave him one single
update. “Good enough for a try, but which ‘firmware’ to be ‘updated’
like they always say,” he scrolled the reviews as the app installed on
his phone.
“Listen who’s calling back – that chap wanting to rid my ‘bullshit’ and nasty stuff,” Sean mused on his side of the cellphone. “Realized how telling people to ‘fuck off’ is nasty yourself?”
“Nah, listen, we need to reconcile, and I have got something for you, you know, to recompense. Come to my place at 8 tomorrow night…” Travis had something for him in mind, and it involved things even worse than just “bullshit”.
Just as Sean stepped in front of the door, some loud buzz dazed and immobilized him like a fly dropping down from mid-air. Stiff and unfeeling, his body was when Travis opened the door, the wood panel bouncing on him. The only “sensory input”, or something stimulating in the fainted black his mind was in, was: “Initializing… Target status: Motor functions and consciousness deactivated. Body torpid. Confirm update?”
Travis lugged Sean’s body inside, sliding on the floor without being lifted. Sean budged with the drag around the place, but “without” the pain as Travis would like to see. His body ended up on the bench, too numb to protest or anything, and every garment stripped bare except the grey boxers. The body stiffened and didn’t move one tenth of an inch - All good for Travis, who wouldn’t want to see Sean’s bare chest struggling and him yelling at how the update could “disfigure” him. All good. “Confirm Update? Yes…”
“Installing firmware update: Step One: Body proportions…” The first thing to morph was this, as the skeleton under his muscle crashed in on many places, the muscles stuck on it following, so the whole body was now closer to Travis wanted than what it was a few moments ago. Like a sexy bum should be, even though the skin stayed coarse and muscles bulky – the shoulders and belly were wrapped tightly, as if with a thick blanket. Not much else Travis could notice clearly?
“Installing firmware update: Step Two: Body texture…” Clearly it meant the muscles withering away, especially on the limbs, ending up with puffy fat under the skin everywhere. The contours of the body looked much better then – slimmer and slimmer until only curves remained on the intersex hulk of a body. 2 steps in, and a long way had been gone by the body in becoming something Travis dreamed of, something straight out of his ideals. A stout woman, with all the sexiness it could have. And it was just starting…
“Installing firmware update: Step Three: Skin…” Now it was the skin, but a lot of aesthetic changes were in place. It looked like only the body hair pulled in and the pores closed up. The curves were even more perfect with the new skin, complete refined. At least the lightly tanned tone was still there, better fitting his new identity – who was it then? Travis speculated without saying it aloud.
“Installing firmware update: Step Four: Upper body features…” What was that, a feature? What a feature! A pair of full F-cups getting ready for lactate, pumped up and filled with sweet milk, from almost nothing after the chest hair cleaned itself almost magically. They were perfectly shaped and rounded, with a little pair of pinkish nipples touching on the mounds. Big enough for Travis, who thought of ways of rubbing his face on the bunch and plugging the buds for, maybe for a few moans.
“Installing firmware update: Step Five: Lower body features...” Finally, the best and the deeply wanted part. The member, rather gorgeous for gay people as it was, retracted inside the groin like a tortoise’s head, leaving no trace of itself. The foreskin moistened as it stretched out and pulled around the growing slit, wet enough for a few rounds of inserting his own member as Travis imagined. The useless balls now dissolved around the sign of her new sex, leaving the light pubic hair behind. If only she had been conscious and moaned a bit…
“Installing firmware update: Step Six: Hair...” The brief, curly hair ironed itself into a mix of golden and glossy black, streaming behind and below the sofa’s leather. It was just some quick kind of change to signify her new self? Unkempt, but maybe she would find a mirror and comb it when she was back awake. Travis would just let her do that.
“Installing firmware update: Step Seven: Face…” Awkwardly, every organ and mark on her face, with all the deep contours of her old self, were wiped away until it was blank as a smooth egg. In the place of hawkish and deep eyes and steep, iron lips, only soft and congealed skin were left to cover what she would never need. She would never need those anymore, to save Travis the troubles of gagging and blindfolding her. Who cared about her eating and drinking? The “update” would take care of it. But Travis got what was needed, a lovely shape of her chins and a mildly peaked nose around light, smooth ridges.
“Installing firmware update: Step Eight: Voice… Error: Lips not detected…” Even so, the Adam’s apple rolled inside the throat, leaving only straightness there. No more voices of struggle for her – those would only dampen Travis’s fun.
“Installing firmware update: Step Nine: Personality and Mannerisms…” The body was just a body, without. Travis hoped this body would have a docile mind on his whim, and most likely, after all those transformations she would be a subjugated sex slave of his. He couldn’t stop thinking of all those “dresses and outfit” he would provide to her, just to reveal her “natural” sexiness. Or all the ways she would be restrained or sprayed on. Being without a mouth meant no blowjobs, but Travis had much better ways to pleasure himself in mind… She hadn’t regained her mind though, and it would be a while before that…
“Installing firmware update: Step Ten: Memories… Installing firmware update: Step Eleven: Clothing and Accessories… Abort? Yes…” Travis had something else in mind other than what would be assigned. A white lingerie to fit her new bleeding-inducing cleavage and thighs, and maybe cuffs to show who she belonged. They were ready on the lap!
“Enabling consciousness and moto functions… Update complete.” she was still there, almost motionless – almost, because her head rolled to the other side. No struggles – perfect. Travis had exacted Sean’s identity from who used to be him, as a punishment for being full of “bullshit” and “nasty”. He gained this perfected goddess of a sex slave as a by-product and his own reward – now what? The girl slowly left the pouch, crawling to the lap with some extrasensory consciousness of her covering’s place, and lightly “dressed” herself as Travis wished. Seeing without eyes? Knowing his and her place, she bowed in front of the new master, evermore…
“Listen who’s calling back – that chap wanting to rid my ‘bullshit’ and nasty stuff,” Sean mused on his side of the cellphone. “Realized how telling people to ‘fuck off’ is nasty yourself?”
“Nah, listen, we need to reconcile, and I have got something for you, you know, to recompense. Come to my place at 8 tomorrow night…” Travis had something for him in mind, and it involved things even worse than just “bullshit”.
Just as Sean stepped in front of the door, some loud buzz dazed and immobilized him like a fly dropping down from mid-air. Stiff and unfeeling, his body was when Travis opened the door, the wood panel bouncing on him. The only “sensory input”, or something stimulating in the fainted black his mind was in, was: “Initializing… Target status: Motor functions and consciousness deactivated. Body torpid. Confirm update?”
Travis lugged Sean’s body inside, sliding on the floor without being lifted. Sean budged with the drag around the place, but “without” the pain as Travis would like to see. His body ended up on the bench, too numb to protest or anything, and every garment stripped bare except the grey boxers. The body stiffened and didn’t move one tenth of an inch - All good for Travis, who wouldn’t want to see Sean’s bare chest struggling and him yelling at how the update could “disfigure” him. All good. “Confirm Update? Yes…”
“Installing firmware update: Step One: Body proportions…” The first thing to morph was this, as the skeleton under his muscle crashed in on many places, the muscles stuck on it following, so the whole body was now closer to Travis wanted than what it was a few moments ago. Like a sexy bum should be, even though the skin stayed coarse and muscles bulky – the shoulders and belly were wrapped tightly, as if with a thick blanket. Not much else Travis could notice clearly?
“Installing firmware update: Step Two: Body texture…” Clearly it meant the muscles withering away, especially on the limbs, ending up with puffy fat under the skin everywhere. The contours of the body looked much better then – slimmer and slimmer until only curves remained on the intersex hulk of a body. 2 steps in, and a long way had been gone by the body in becoming something Travis dreamed of, something straight out of his ideals. A stout woman, with all the sexiness it could have. And it was just starting…
“Installing firmware update: Step Three: Skin…” Now it was the skin, but a lot of aesthetic changes were in place. It looked like only the body hair pulled in and the pores closed up. The curves were even more perfect with the new skin, complete refined. At least the lightly tanned tone was still there, better fitting his new identity – who was it then? Travis speculated without saying it aloud.
“Installing firmware update: Step Four: Upper body features…” What was that, a feature? What a feature! A pair of full F-cups getting ready for lactate, pumped up and filled with sweet milk, from almost nothing after the chest hair cleaned itself almost magically. They were perfectly shaped and rounded, with a little pair of pinkish nipples touching on the mounds. Big enough for Travis, who thought of ways of rubbing his face on the bunch and plugging the buds for, maybe for a few moans.
“Installing firmware update: Step Five: Lower body features...” Finally, the best and the deeply wanted part. The member, rather gorgeous for gay people as it was, retracted inside the groin like a tortoise’s head, leaving no trace of itself. The foreskin moistened as it stretched out and pulled around the growing slit, wet enough for a few rounds of inserting his own member as Travis imagined. The useless balls now dissolved around the sign of her new sex, leaving the light pubic hair behind. If only she had been conscious and moaned a bit…
“Installing firmware update: Step Six: Hair...” The brief, curly hair ironed itself into a mix of golden and glossy black, streaming behind and below the sofa’s leather. It was just some quick kind of change to signify her new self? Unkempt, but maybe she would find a mirror and comb it when she was back awake. Travis would just let her do that.
“Installing firmware update: Step Seven: Face…” Awkwardly, every organ and mark on her face, with all the deep contours of her old self, were wiped away until it was blank as a smooth egg. In the place of hawkish and deep eyes and steep, iron lips, only soft and congealed skin were left to cover what she would never need. She would never need those anymore, to save Travis the troubles of gagging and blindfolding her. Who cared about her eating and drinking? The “update” would take care of it. But Travis got what was needed, a lovely shape of her chins and a mildly peaked nose around light, smooth ridges.
“Installing firmware update: Step Eight: Voice… Error: Lips not detected…” Even so, the Adam’s apple rolled inside the throat, leaving only straightness there. No more voices of struggle for her – those would only dampen Travis’s fun.
“Installing firmware update: Step Nine: Personality and Mannerisms…” The body was just a body, without. Travis hoped this body would have a docile mind on his whim, and most likely, after all those transformations she would be a subjugated sex slave of his. He couldn’t stop thinking of all those “dresses and outfit” he would provide to her, just to reveal her “natural” sexiness. Or all the ways she would be restrained or sprayed on. Being without a mouth meant no blowjobs, but Travis had much better ways to pleasure himself in mind… She hadn’t regained her mind though, and it would be a while before that…
“Installing firmware update: Step Ten: Memories… Installing firmware update: Step Eleven: Clothing and Accessories… Abort? Yes…” Travis had something else in mind other than what would be assigned. A white lingerie to fit her new bleeding-inducing cleavage and thighs, and maybe cuffs to show who she belonged. They were ready on the lap!
“Enabling consciousness and moto functions… Update complete.” she was still there, almost motionless – almost, because her head rolled to the other side. No struggles – perfect. Travis had exacted Sean’s identity from who used to be him, as a punishment for being full of “bullshit” and “nasty”. He gained this perfected goddess of a sex slave as a by-product and his own reward – now what? The girl slowly left the pouch, crawling to the lap with some extrasensory consciousness of her covering’s place, and lightly “dressed” herself as Travis wished. Seeing without eyes? Knowing his and her place, she bowed in front of the new master, evermore…
Monday, July 1, 2019
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Sunday, May 26, 2019
Monday, May 13, 2019
Monday, April 29, 2019
Magically Trapped
This is Caption-Muse's trap OC Millie, done as a trade with him
All art used here are under fair use.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Turned Into A Flower Girl
1st April
The train going on my way to the ancestral home was stuffed with far more people than other times of the year, as far as I could know. It’s the local Spring Festival, but the festivities stretch from the spring solstice to the 3rd so the locals grab more tourism money when they have not much else to cash in from in other seasons. Obviously, there’s another season based on the folklore here, I’ll get on it soon.
I’m here because this is my ancestral home that I had never visited, and my grandpa insisted that everyone of the land’s blood must visit the Spring Festival once in their lives – even for me who’s just on a vacation away from work in Brazil. “Without seeing the long-lasting cherry blossoms of our origins, we are not genuine descendants of the land,” was what my grandpa told my dad and me – probably calling back to our cultural origins.
If he was alive, he would say it’s even more important for me personally when the last day, coincidentally, is my birthday – so he actually said I’m also the son of the blossoms. He seemed to be hiding something of the last day about the procession – of his memories attending the festival, he never went into detail on the secretive ritual. This will be my chance to find out the truth, and it might be my first time seeing the cherry blossoms. I’m eager, but not so much enjoying the time here.
*ACHOO* Just outside of the rustic station I had a running nose, because of the pollen from the cherry trees everywhere. By everywhere, I mean not just this square, but along many of the roads and paths of the small town, in some of the backyards, *ACHOO* and even in some of orchards. As you can guess, cherry trees are important here because of the Spring Festival.
I did my research on the town’s history, here’s the folklore that explains the whole thing:
Centuries ago, when the forefathers of the town came to the place and opened the coastal plain for farming, they met a stubborn cherry tree under a jealously burning sun *SNEEZE*. They’ve vowed to protect the tree from being logged or ran over, to which, reputedly, a tree spirit appeared and thanked the aspiring pioneers, giving the gifts of a bountiful harvest every year and the signs of blessing. *ACHOO*
That’s how the folks here explain why, every cherry tree here start blooming at the same time as the others ones in Kanto, but only withers after the end of the Festival. As far as there’s still a last cherry tree left, the tree spirit will still reside in the town’s main shrine and bless the town “with splendor and happiness” *ACHOO*. And for the spirit or goddess the Festival is now held in her honor, there is one big procession on the last day, and the 2nd sign is in it – I said it’s my birthday, and something’s going to happen, right?
Damn, the pollen’s *ACHOO* close to choking me. I just can’t realize the spirit of this custom with my itchy nose.
2nd April
I’d been to some places around – there aren’t much to see except for my family’s ancestral home (which a distant relative of mine lives in) and the shrine. *SNEEZE* The home is my lodging for my stay here – it’s not much except for the tallest cherry tree in the town, which is definitely a great thing to be proud of.
*ACHOO* I instantly understood why my ancestor emigrated to Brazil. Giving up the boring procession for the Carnavals I guess. That might be a good thing for me – if I had been born here, I would have been a rural *ACHOO*… you get the idea. What a nuisance for me to be in this town, but the ancestral home’s standing here, and it’s the Spring Festival that’s important for my dad and granddad, or maybe the even more important ritual. I might still need the experience here that’s turned into a dream for my family, for good or bad. *SNEEZE*
Now onto the shrine. The main hall does have a dignified tree spirit as its main goddess, and even more nondescript gods are housed on the sides. I was slightly surprised to find my surname on the row of the donators to the shrine’s renovation – apparently belonging to one of my ancestors who was a landed dignitary in the village. *SNEEZE* and just for that, to keep the memory of the donation and our roots alive, he was passing that custom of homage to me. It was not like this place was indispensable for his descendants like me, apparently, when I’m growing up as a Brazilian.
*ACHOO* The blessing’s may be good. The town is animated, brought by the tourists who truly appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossoms. A bountiful harvest, which was needed by the subsistence farmers of the past, isn’t the most wanted thing for now. The cherry trees, with their abnormally long blooming season, is getting some good tourist money.
But this feels a bit hollow – without the trees and the tradition, the town’s just another one south of Tokyo. I can even say, in the past, the harvest was just the fertile soil and frugality. *Breathes deeply* The cherry blossoms – what magic’s up with those that keeps attracting tourists unlike anything else in the average park? What have they hidden in the procession? Maybe that’s it.
3rd April
My sneezing was getting worse and worse by the day. Most of the morning I was just rolling in my futon, with the occasional sneezing. Good thing it was far less than the last 2 days.
“Please be awake, it is 5 in the afternoon and the grand procession will proceed in an hour.” The relative gently spoke to my weary ears.
“Isn’t it bad for me to sneeze for the whole procession inside the crowd?”
“My boy, have faith in the Sakura Goddess. Pray and she will bless you will the right spirit.”
A cherry petal drifted softly onto my face, and naturally I sneezed again. My relative was right, no matter how bad the sneezing would be, have faith in myself, even if I had wanted to be in a field of flowers as a child and my family doctor had kept me back. I would definitely hold my own breath in the crowd. Picking the petal up, even without the right nose, I was ready for the procession and unravel its secret.
5:55pm. I was squeezing past the gathered bodies in front of the shrine.
Under the warm light the cherry trees were reflecting something for me. A reflected light guiding me into the hall.
The procession might start anytime now, but something in my mind clicked.
I flied up the good number of steps to the modest structure, skipping and barely scratching at once, as if tree branches were propelling me.
Entering the hall, my heart was glowing for little reason than something.
To enjoy the procession…
Without rinsing my hand or offering, I quickly clapped my hands and, without myself thinking, I heard myself saying a prayer:
“Oh Goddess of Cherry Trees, for my allergy, please claim, and for the procession, please direct…”
I was barely aware of what was happening. Was I praying to some figure the villagers of old projected onto the cherry trees? Why would I pray when I could simply hold my breath from time to time?
I turned back to the torii, barely noticing the gust of wind swirling around me. With those and the cherry petal flashing around me…
The motionless body was like a constantly shifting mannequin. Petals of tints of pink pushed and attached themselves to the body, morphing for the skin and bulk to match what the petals had in mind. Or rather, what the tree spirit had in mind. She had finally found the body of the as a vessel, with the birthdate exactly aligning with this year’s procession. The petals clustered to reshape the torso, with the right chest size here and the favorite short hair up there. 2 cherry buds strapped onto her bangs, radiating a warm, sharp light. A few more loose petal were strung onto a few threads of soft scarlet, with much more providing the texture of the stamped fabric in the top and skirt – this year the spirit preferred an exposed mid-riff.
With an almost magical hop, the girl disappeared from the grounds of the shrine…
All in a sudden, the “Hana-Hime” appears at the starting point of procession, right in front of my eyes. You can always recognize her from the flamboyant dress. I’m calling a Brazilian friend of mine who’s coming for his birthday just to see this. The phone rings for a few seconds and is cut.
This is the “Hana-Hime”, said to be the incarnation of the Cherry Tree Goddess herself, but with different faces every year that the locals have never recognized as the daughter of someone they know. Just like how she arrived, out of thin air. As she ascends the float, she will be shaking to the drum beats with her second nature and be the attention of the crowd – some pious townsfolk even kneel and chant before the float, as the Hana-Hime smiled and waved to the fullest.
The cherry pollen reminds me of the missing guy instead of the mysterious centerpiece here. Where’s the Brazilian? He just visited the spring market yesterday, and said he’s risking choking to death for the secret of this. Is he too sick from allergy to be out now?
Written for a DeviantArt group.
All art used here are under fair use.
The train going on my way to the ancestral home was stuffed with far more people than other times of the year, as far as I could know. It’s the local Spring Festival, but the festivities stretch from the spring solstice to the 3rd so the locals grab more tourism money when they have not much else to cash in from in other seasons. Obviously, there’s another season based on the folklore here, I’ll get on it soon.
I’m here because this is my ancestral home that I had never visited, and my grandpa insisted that everyone of the land’s blood must visit the Spring Festival once in their lives – even for me who’s just on a vacation away from work in Brazil. “Without seeing the long-lasting cherry blossoms of our origins, we are not genuine descendants of the land,” was what my grandpa told my dad and me – probably calling back to our cultural origins.
If he was alive, he would say it’s even more important for me personally when the last day, coincidentally, is my birthday – so he actually said I’m also the son of the blossoms. He seemed to be hiding something of the last day about the procession – of his memories attending the festival, he never went into detail on the secretive ritual. This will be my chance to find out the truth, and it might be my first time seeing the cherry blossoms. I’m eager, but not so much enjoying the time here.
*ACHOO* Just outside of the rustic station I had a running nose, because of the pollen from the cherry trees everywhere. By everywhere, I mean not just this square, but along many of the roads and paths of the small town, in some of the backyards, *ACHOO* and even in some of orchards. As you can guess, cherry trees are important here because of the Spring Festival.
I did my research on the town’s history, here’s the folklore that explains the whole thing:
Centuries ago, when the forefathers of the town came to the place and opened the coastal plain for farming, they met a stubborn cherry tree under a jealously burning sun *SNEEZE*. They’ve vowed to protect the tree from being logged or ran over, to which, reputedly, a tree spirit appeared and thanked the aspiring pioneers, giving the gifts of a bountiful harvest every year and the signs of blessing. *ACHOO*
That’s how the folks here explain why, every cherry tree here start blooming at the same time as the others ones in Kanto, but only withers after the end of the Festival. As far as there’s still a last cherry tree left, the tree spirit will still reside in the town’s main shrine and bless the town “with splendor and happiness” *ACHOO*. And for the spirit or goddess the Festival is now held in her honor, there is one big procession on the last day, and the 2nd sign is in it – I said it’s my birthday, and something’s going to happen, right?
Damn, the pollen’s *ACHOO* close to choking me. I just can’t realize the spirit of this custom with my itchy nose.
2nd April
I’d been to some places around – there aren’t much to see except for my family’s ancestral home (which a distant relative of mine lives in) and the shrine. *SNEEZE* The home is my lodging for my stay here – it’s not much except for the tallest cherry tree in the town, which is definitely a great thing to be proud of.
*ACHOO* I instantly understood why my ancestor emigrated to Brazil. Giving up the boring procession for the Carnavals I guess. That might be a good thing for me – if I had been born here, I would have been a rural *ACHOO*… you get the idea. What a nuisance for me to be in this town, but the ancestral home’s standing here, and it’s the Spring Festival that’s important for my dad and granddad, or maybe the even more important ritual. I might still need the experience here that’s turned into a dream for my family, for good or bad. *SNEEZE*
Now onto the shrine. The main hall does have a dignified tree spirit as its main goddess, and even more nondescript gods are housed on the sides. I was slightly surprised to find my surname on the row of the donators to the shrine’s renovation – apparently belonging to one of my ancestors who was a landed dignitary in the village. *SNEEZE* and just for that, to keep the memory of the donation and our roots alive, he was passing that custom of homage to me. It was not like this place was indispensable for his descendants like me, apparently, when I’m growing up as a Brazilian.
*ACHOO* The blessing’s may be good. The town is animated, brought by the tourists who truly appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossoms. A bountiful harvest, which was needed by the subsistence farmers of the past, isn’t the most wanted thing for now. The cherry trees, with their abnormally long blooming season, is getting some good tourist money.
But this feels a bit hollow – without the trees and the tradition, the town’s just another one south of Tokyo. I can even say, in the past, the harvest was just the fertile soil and frugality. *Breathes deeply* The cherry blossoms – what magic’s up with those that keeps attracting tourists unlike anything else in the average park? What have they hidden in the procession? Maybe that’s it.
3rd April
My sneezing was getting worse and worse by the day. Most of the morning I was just rolling in my futon, with the occasional sneezing. Good thing it was far less than the last 2 days.
“Please be awake, it is 5 in the afternoon and the grand procession will proceed in an hour.” The relative gently spoke to my weary ears.
“Isn’t it bad for me to sneeze for the whole procession inside the crowd?”
“My boy, have faith in the Sakura Goddess. Pray and she will bless you will the right spirit.”
A cherry petal drifted softly onto my face, and naturally I sneezed again. My relative was right, no matter how bad the sneezing would be, have faith in myself, even if I had wanted to be in a field of flowers as a child and my family doctor had kept me back. I would definitely hold my own breath in the crowd. Picking the petal up, even without the right nose, I was ready for the procession and unravel its secret.
5:55pm. I was squeezing past the gathered bodies in front of the shrine.
Under the warm light the cherry trees were reflecting something for me. A reflected light guiding me into the hall.
The procession might start anytime now, but something in my mind clicked.
I flied up the good number of steps to the modest structure, skipping and barely scratching at once, as if tree branches were propelling me.
Entering the hall, my heart was glowing for little reason than something.
To enjoy the procession…
Without rinsing my hand or offering, I quickly clapped my hands and, without myself thinking, I heard myself saying a prayer:
“Oh Goddess of Cherry Trees, for my allergy, please claim, and for the procession, please direct…”
I was barely aware of what was happening. Was I praying to some figure the villagers of old projected onto the cherry trees? Why would I pray when I could simply hold my breath from time to time?
I turned back to the torii, barely noticing the gust of wind swirling around me. With those and the cherry petal flashing around me…
The motionless body was like a constantly shifting mannequin. Petals of tints of pink pushed and attached themselves to the body, morphing for the skin and bulk to match what the petals had in mind. Or rather, what the tree spirit had in mind. She had finally found the body of the as a vessel, with the birthdate exactly aligning with this year’s procession. The petals clustered to reshape the torso, with the right chest size here and the favorite short hair up there. 2 cherry buds strapped onto her bangs, radiating a warm, sharp light. A few more loose petal were strung onto a few threads of soft scarlet, with much more providing the texture of the stamped fabric in the top and skirt – this year the spirit preferred an exposed mid-riff.
With an almost magical hop, the girl disappeared from the grounds of the shrine…
All in a sudden, the “Hana-Hime” appears at the starting point of procession, right in front of my eyes. You can always recognize her from the flamboyant dress. I’m calling a Brazilian friend of mine who’s coming for his birthday just to see this. The phone rings for a few seconds and is cut.
This is the “Hana-Hime”, said to be the incarnation of the Cherry Tree Goddess herself, but with different faces every year that the locals have never recognized as the daughter of someone they know. Just like how she arrived, out of thin air. As she ascends the float, she will be shaking to the drum beats with her second nature and be the attention of the crowd – some pious townsfolk even kneel and chant before the float, as the Hana-Hime smiled and waved to the fullest.
The cherry pollen reminds me of the missing guy instead of the mysterious centerpiece here. Where’s the Brazilian? He just visited the spring market yesterday, and said he’s risking choking to death for the secret of this. Is he too sick from allergy to be out now?
Written for a DeviantArt group.
All art used here are under fair use.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
The Priceless Hunt
It is normal business.
The floor is lightly wettened by the slick goo spreading over the ceiling and dripping. As she jolts and slides along the dark grey “alleys” in the maze-like buildings, whether almost losing her own balance is because of the mildly-drenched gauze platform or that, she is not the best at controlling her own body, despite her swift moves across the thin air.
True, this body is now her own, she has been chasing targets of all descriptions for years as an elvish woman, but not after a process of continuously acculturing to her present form. She is, for now, a tanned elvish woman who is partially enclosed by the black and cream-colored latex bodysuit, made to be a second skin for optimizing her agility, and with a few glowing electronic implements closely attached. It is something and nothing on her body at the same time: the sweats are being trapped in this bodysuit, the slim latex clinging onto her curvy figure even more, but the immense fumes circulating around the alleys are seeping across the fabric, magnified in scorching hotness by its tightness. The same fume is choking without her gas mask, especially so when her nose is sensitized for the scents of each target… Otherwise, the appealing contours, with ample bosoms and the thick, fecund hip, is more telling of the unknown origins of her body – appearing more like the figure of one in a harem and too much like an acrobat of the distant past with every overdrawn swing.
In other words, she appears to be completely strange and awkward to herself, but it is still normal business. A lot of the physical actions she now performs will be strange to her past self, and much of her daily existence – from the skimmed and almost erotic bodysuit to the torque of having such breasts and waist – are those she has never accustomed to. Being a sexually appealing, slightly bumbling bounty hunter is still a bounty hunter, and she has been successfully being one for all these years. On the up side, her body makes a few much-needed skills possible – he is loose in the labyrinth. She squats to listen, with the gift of hearing the smallest noises, the movement of this target when the space is too densely walled and convoluted, as to lose her sight of him, even with the usual sharpness.
This old target. True, she has a lot of old targets: for these years, or maybe since the start of her career, she has long-time chases and armed engagements with multiple criminals across the galaxies, for crimes too demented and damaging to describe, simply and only for monies. It is normal business anyway. But this man is too different from them: she has been on alert of all his maneuvers and thefts, and actively seeking him for years with the persistence she otherwise would not devote onto one target. It is not just another for the bounty – there is no real reward other than a good, overdue revenge. The time is coming for her to conclude the whole incident that has placed her in her present state.
He is her original self.
He used to be her original self – as much as the body he is using originally belonged to her, the bounty hunter, and she was born with the body of that brown-haired lackey or something. He may have changed his body and aged a few years in this body, but two things of his hasn’t changed: who he really is and what he does routinely. Both of which are why she is seeking him. She can remember the whole incident and her life before that, even though this isn’t the right time for flashbacks.
It’s almost the same setting: still a chase between the bounty hunter and the body thief, but that time, the bounty hunter was the unassuming human male. The same fume and mechanical exterior of the walls, just with less experience. He had of course heard of this heister already famous for both her form and infamous for all her exploits. She once wooed 2 escorts full of gold and rare earth off their route and promptly sold those on the black market, all without being noticed; countless lost items in art inventories could be credited to her, always as a visitor or something. She was, of course, the last one in the chain of a lineage of thieves “of the same mind” – he hadn’t really grasped the whole thing so far as he seeked her out.
Catch this elvish woman who was as stout as she seemed, send her to the authorities, collect the heap of money, and break this “lineage” or not for good. He wouldn’t let her escape alive or dead; if she managed to be loose from his grip, then shoot her, hand in her dead body, and collect the same bounty. It was usual business.
Passing by even more pipes and wires, the thief finally arrived at this poorly known part of the tunnel network where much of the routes have dead ends – and promptly she entered one of these routes. Sheer luck for him, who had been there many times for some other targets; this time wouldn’t be far to different. The steel enclosure blocked her further escape, and the top of it was barely above his head. Without any other exits or space to leap backwards, this was the right place for her to be cornered and caught…
Surely, the thief was no longer loose, as she closed onto the roadblock, she slid and slowed her bouncing moves, until slumping against the metal wall. As he approached her, she was laid on the ground, weakened and almost bewildered by her final capture. He could imagine her being gagged or getting a more humiliating punishment by his own hands. If she had this inviting pose and being sluttish with everything of her buxom body, as if on the bed, why wouldn’t he accept those? It’s done, he thought. She was now overpowered and opened to him. Slowing his steps to clearly see her figure. The tar skin of the thief was full of sweat, and the air full of panting vapor. A small blush ran through her pristine face, seemly being in great shame to him, her eyes drifting between her own body and his eyes. The only thing for him to do seemed to be only overpowering her and carry her stunned body to the authorities. Strangely, even in this distressful situation, her ruby eyes gleamed with something else in mind…
The red glow of the eyes intensified, adding a red hue to the vision which radiated first from the eyes, then from her whole body. As the glow increased from a mild annoyance to the blinding light, it covered her whole head and gave his own head migraines as intense as the glow…
It was all white and all too painful before dark numbness set in.
The sight slowly came back. It was still the same darkness around this consciousness which cleared slowly, as the warm fume soothed the skin, anything else stripped away. The arms were fastened too tightly to flex, and in the mouth, something was blocking the throat.
Exasperated…
There were his own legs still standing before the sight. Or rather, the pair of legs that no longer belonged to her. She was seeing from the perspective of the elvish woman – she is now the elvish woman.
The rest are barely memorable from the shock of being in the new body. Assaults to her while being nude? The “bounty hunter” moving both his bulk and her, once dragging and then carrying clumsily, finally falling and injuring himself before unloading her and putting her in chains, all while she was too dazed to sense anything else.
The next thing she knows, she was in a cell with some other petty criminal she wouldn’t imagine to be with, who was constantly eyeing her nudity. It wasn’t normal business then. She needed to prove her real identity and escape; if she had tried to jag the lock, she won’t be that innocent. Every time a guard passed through, she resorted to only shouting, which of course never worked with every indifferent guard. But at once, a few days into the detention, the guard came with the key, and said, “you gotta be right, your old body broke into a few cells around and some of those inmates are out there for you…”
Then it was again normal business.
At least, she has gotten the truth that it isn’t a lineage, but an entity behind all this. To break this entity is one thing, and to exact everything from this man is another. Now that she has found him again, she can of course strip him until nothing is left, massage and rub his member, and force him to cum until his face is full of his own guilt, just like what he might had done to her.
This used to be her body, but it no longer matters – this is no longer hers. She is now the famous elvish bounty hunter, every skill and fighting style she has is now adapted to this body. She is fit for everything that is womanly possible, and frozen in time. This is the perfect body she would have been born into if she had been a superb bounty hunter in the first place. It is a gift to her and the biggest loss to this thief.
The duck may be over after a thought: This target being a body hopper, if she faces them, won’t they simply regain what they’ve lost and leave her with that body? That body belonging to someone already gone?
She waited further. Turning the dial on her gun to the dazing mode, as his head emerges again down below, she aimed...
And the thief, both a valuable and body one, fell onto the ground unconscious. The body is now down. It is normal business, and she will carry it to the authorities…
This is a commission for someone on DeviantArt
The floor is lightly wettened by the slick goo spreading over the ceiling and dripping. As she jolts and slides along the dark grey “alleys” in the maze-like buildings, whether almost losing her own balance is because of the mildly-drenched gauze platform or that, she is not the best at controlling her own body, despite her swift moves across the thin air.
True, this body is now her own, she has been chasing targets of all descriptions for years as an elvish woman, but not after a process of continuously acculturing to her present form. She is, for now, a tanned elvish woman who is partially enclosed by the black and cream-colored latex bodysuit, made to be a second skin for optimizing her agility, and with a few glowing electronic implements closely attached. It is something and nothing on her body at the same time: the sweats are being trapped in this bodysuit, the slim latex clinging onto her curvy figure even more, but the immense fumes circulating around the alleys are seeping across the fabric, magnified in scorching hotness by its tightness. The same fume is choking without her gas mask, especially so when her nose is sensitized for the scents of each target… Otherwise, the appealing contours, with ample bosoms and the thick, fecund hip, is more telling of the unknown origins of her body – appearing more like the figure of one in a harem and too much like an acrobat of the distant past with every overdrawn swing.
In other words, she appears to be completely strange and awkward to herself, but it is still normal business. A lot of the physical actions she now performs will be strange to her past self, and much of her daily existence – from the skimmed and almost erotic bodysuit to the torque of having such breasts and waist – are those she has never accustomed to. Being a sexually appealing, slightly bumbling bounty hunter is still a bounty hunter, and she has been successfully being one for all these years. On the up side, her body makes a few much-needed skills possible – he is loose in the labyrinth. She squats to listen, with the gift of hearing the smallest noises, the movement of this target when the space is too densely walled and convoluted, as to lose her sight of him, even with the usual sharpness.
This old target. True, she has a lot of old targets: for these years, or maybe since the start of her career, she has long-time chases and armed engagements with multiple criminals across the galaxies, for crimes too demented and damaging to describe, simply and only for monies. It is normal business anyway. But this man is too different from them: she has been on alert of all his maneuvers and thefts, and actively seeking him for years with the persistence she otherwise would not devote onto one target. It is not just another for the bounty – there is no real reward other than a good, overdue revenge. The time is coming for her to conclude the whole incident that has placed her in her present state.
He is her original self.
He used to be her original self – as much as the body he is using originally belonged to her, the bounty hunter, and she was born with the body of that brown-haired lackey or something. He may have changed his body and aged a few years in this body, but two things of his hasn’t changed: who he really is and what he does routinely. Both of which are why she is seeking him. She can remember the whole incident and her life before that, even though this isn’t the right time for flashbacks.
It’s almost the same setting: still a chase between the bounty hunter and the body thief, but that time, the bounty hunter was the unassuming human male. The same fume and mechanical exterior of the walls, just with less experience. He had of course heard of this heister already famous for both her form and infamous for all her exploits. She once wooed 2 escorts full of gold and rare earth off their route and promptly sold those on the black market, all without being noticed; countless lost items in art inventories could be credited to her, always as a visitor or something. She was, of course, the last one in the chain of a lineage of thieves “of the same mind” – he hadn’t really grasped the whole thing so far as he seeked her out.
Catch this elvish woman who was as stout as she seemed, send her to the authorities, collect the heap of money, and break this “lineage” or not for good. He wouldn’t let her escape alive or dead; if she managed to be loose from his grip, then shoot her, hand in her dead body, and collect the same bounty. It was usual business.
Passing by even more pipes and wires, the thief finally arrived at this poorly known part of the tunnel network where much of the routes have dead ends – and promptly she entered one of these routes. Sheer luck for him, who had been there many times for some other targets; this time wouldn’t be far to different. The steel enclosure blocked her further escape, and the top of it was barely above his head. Without any other exits or space to leap backwards, this was the right place for her to be cornered and caught…
Surely, the thief was no longer loose, as she closed onto the roadblock, she slid and slowed her bouncing moves, until slumping against the metal wall. As he approached her, she was laid on the ground, weakened and almost bewildered by her final capture. He could imagine her being gagged or getting a more humiliating punishment by his own hands. If she had this inviting pose and being sluttish with everything of her buxom body, as if on the bed, why wouldn’t he accept those? It’s done, he thought. She was now overpowered and opened to him. Slowing his steps to clearly see her figure. The tar skin of the thief was full of sweat, and the air full of panting vapor. A small blush ran through her pristine face, seemly being in great shame to him, her eyes drifting between her own body and his eyes. The only thing for him to do seemed to be only overpowering her and carry her stunned body to the authorities. Strangely, even in this distressful situation, her ruby eyes gleamed with something else in mind…
The red glow of the eyes intensified, adding a red hue to the vision which radiated first from the eyes, then from her whole body. As the glow increased from a mild annoyance to the blinding light, it covered her whole head and gave his own head migraines as intense as the glow…
It was all white and all too painful before dark numbness set in.
The sight slowly came back. It was still the same darkness around this consciousness which cleared slowly, as the warm fume soothed the skin, anything else stripped away. The arms were fastened too tightly to flex, and in the mouth, something was blocking the throat.
Exasperated…
There were his own legs still standing before the sight. Or rather, the pair of legs that no longer belonged to her. She was seeing from the perspective of the elvish woman – she is now the elvish woman.
The rest are barely memorable from the shock of being in the new body. Assaults to her while being nude? The “bounty hunter” moving both his bulk and her, once dragging and then carrying clumsily, finally falling and injuring himself before unloading her and putting her in chains, all while she was too dazed to sense anything else.
The next thing she knows, she was in a cell with some other petty criminal she wouldn’t imagine to be with, who was constantly eyeing her nudity. It wasn’t normal business then. She needed to prove her real identity and escape; if she had tried to jag the lock, she won’t be that innocent. Every time a guard passed through, she resorted to only shouting, which of course never worked with every indifferent guard. But at once, a few days into the detention, the guard came with the key, and said, “you gotta be right, your old body broke into a few cells around and some of those inmates are out there for you…”
Then it was again normal business.
At least, she has gotten the truth that it isn’t a lineage, but an entity behind all this. To break this entity is one thing, and to exact everything from this man is another. Now that she has found him again, she can of course strip him until nothing is left, massage and rub his member, and force him to cum until his face is full of his own guilt, just like what he might had done to her.
This used to be her body, but it no longer matters – this is no longer hers. She is now the famous elvish bounty hunter, every skill and fighting style she has is now adapted to this body. She is fit for everything that is womanly possible, and frozen in time. This is the perfect body she would have been born into if she had been a superb bounty hunter in the first place. It is a gift to her and the biggest loss to this thief.
The duck may be over after a thought: This target being a body hopper, if she faces them, won’t they simply regain what they’ve lost and leave her with that body? That body belonging to someone already gone?
She waited further. Turning the dial on her gun to the dazing mode, as his head emerges again down below, she aimed...
And the thief, both a valuable and body one, fell onto the ground unconscious. The body is now down. It is normal business, and she will carry it to the authorities…
This is a commission for someone on DeviantArt
Monday, March 18, 2019
Saturday, March 9, 2019
Costume Once Again
This is a commission for someone on DeviantArt
All art used here are under fair use.
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