Interview With A Sissy

So, this one will need a little explanation. About 6 years ago (early 2014, I think) I started this caption as a contest entry for Wes Mantooth's first caption contest on his blog, Interracial Sissy Captions. I never finished it, obviously, but the idea has been percolating in my head ever since.

As you'd expect, after all that time, I've had a fair number of different ideas for when I finally felt like finishing the caption. I've ended up writing two entirely separate versions, so I'm posting one version here and I'll post the other version on the Patreon (I think the version here is probably the better of the two).

I'd recommend reading some of Wes' old captions first, as this was written to be sort-of in the same vein as his, though I didn't use any of his original characters.

- B-Rex

“And now for our final guest of the morning, sissy right's activist, Miss Maxine Thirst!”

“Actually, it's 'Maxwell Thrust', and it's Mister,” Max corrected the Morning Review show hostess, as the applause slowly died down.

“Oh yes, however could I have possibly mistaken you for a Miss, Maxi, darling?” Maggie Lynn replied, winking at the audience. “And oh yes, I forgot, you elected to keep your old male name. Though, I do believe your middle name is also still Richard, isn't that correct, Mister Dick Thrust?”

“Eh, let's just go with Max, shall we?” he replied quickly, hoping to get the interview on track. “And I'd like to start off by addressing the audience about my organization's proposed resolut—”

“You want to undress for the audience? Why Maxi, dear, I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist!” The hostess teased, sending titters of laughter through the studio seating.

“That's not what-- look, can we please get on topic? I was told this interview would focus on my organization and our efforts to combat societal inequality?”

He hated the way his voice turned his completely rational statement into an irrational, overly emotional whine, but there was little he could do about that. The larynx surgery his boss had insisted on last year had left him with a perpetually feminine lilt, and whenever he got the least bit excited, he shot up another octave.

“Oh yes, of course Maxi, of course. Now, I believe your organization is called....” The hostess paused, waiting for him to answer.

With a sigh of resignation, Max responded, “Ignorant Sissies With Annoyingly Lame and Laughable Opinions Worldwide, or I.S.W.A.L.L.O.W. for short. We're dedicated to combating anti-male attitudes in society, stopping harassment and inequality in the workplace, reversing the push for sissific--”

“And what made you choose that name for your little club?” Maggie interrupted.

“Uh, well, we originally went with another name, but there was apparently a mixup with the paperwork when we registered the organization, and by the time we found out, we'd already spent a fortune on flyers and buying up billboard space, all of it with the I.S.W.A.L.L.O.W. brand. But we still prefer to go by our real name, M.A.R.S.: Men Against Ra--”

“Yes, yes, very fascinating. Tell me, dear, however do you get dressed in the morning? I have enough trouble getting my bra on as it is, and I'm only a mere C-cup. While you look like you must be using the Chinese alphabet or something.”

The studio filled with chuckles, as Max fumbled for a response. A camera scooted closer, clearly zooming in on his immense cleavage, sending his hands flying to cover the ample real estate, to little effect.

“Please, I would like this interview to be about something more substantial than my breasts!!” Max snapped, his frustration overcoming his natural shyness.

“That'll be a real challenge,” the hostess mumbled, winking at the audience. “Speaking of your lovely bosom, is it true that those amazing breasts are the legal property of your employer, Hardrod Incorporated?”

Max bit his lip, forgetting his recent juvederm injections, and stifled a wince. Forcing himself to remain calm, he decided to answer the hostess' off-topic questions as quickly as possible and get the interview back on track. “Well, technically my boss, Mister Hardrod, only owns my implants, since the company has been paying for my bi-annual enlargement surgeries since the new workplace laws went into effect. Now, I.S.W.A.L.L.O.W. is proposing a resolution to--”

“However did you convince your boss to let you bring them on our show, Maxi? Hugh Hardrod doesn't usually publicly endorse your sissy activism stunts, isn't that right? How did you get him to change his mind.”

Max fought back an urge to glare at the smarmy hostess, as she beamed across the stage, making a suggestive gesture with her tongue in her cheek and waggling her eyebrows knowingly for the cameras.

“I simply agreed to show up at a convention going on across town, later this morning, and do some... additional publicity work for Hardrod Incorporated. Now, my organiz--”

“Oh yes, that's riiight, you'll be attending the annual Porn-O-Rama Convention this week!”

He bit his swollen lip again. “Er, yes, I will, Maggie. Now, my--”

“I believe you'll be 'manning' the Boobjob Booth this year. Well, by the look of those twin peaks of yours, you're sure to do a great job. In fact, your boss, Mister Hardrod, has even said he expects you'll break the boobjob world record by the end of the week, isn't that right, Maxi?”

“Er, well, I think he might have been a bit over-estim--”

“In fact, I believe more than six thousand men have already signed up for your booth! Wow! I sure hope you've been practicing your breast stroke, Maxi!”

Max's eyes widened, and he struggled to reply, only for her to interrupt again.

“Oh, sorry dear, we've got to break for commercials.” Maggie Lynn shifted in her seat to face the cameras. “But don't change that channel folks, we'll be right back with more of Miss Dickthrust and her amazing silicone wonders! And just in case you miss her, you can find her all week at the Porn-O-Rama convention downtown. And don't worry, there's still plenty of space left on the sign-up list if you want a chance to try and help her break that world record!”