Friday, July 31, 2020
Slam Her
Tuesday, July 28, 2020
New Comment Policy
“You can't really expect me to cook for them? I barely know how to boil an egg, for fuck's sake!”
“Practice makes perfect, dear.”
She looked at the floor, judging the distance. With her damaged, reduced legs, she had to be careful, another break might lead to all sorts of medical issues. But she though she could safely lower herself to the tiled floor, her upper body strength had diminished somewhat from her lengthy recovery, but she was still very strong for a woman. And she weighed a lot less these days.
But he seemed to know what she was thinking. Before she could protest, he reached for a jar on the counter, and began pouring rice on the kitchen floor all around the island.
“Oh, you... you cruel bastard,” she hissed, glaring at him. He just smirked, and headed out the door.
The rice was small, but it might as well be glass shards. She'd crawled over some spilled salt a few days before, it hurt like hell. The rice grains would no doubt hurt even more.
“Dammit, Jerry, I can't spend all day on the island!!” she yelled, as she heard his car start.
She sighed, as her lover's vehicle pulled out of the garage, and down the driveway. Turning her mutilated body around, she crawled the length of the table, hoping to find a spot where the rice hadn't covered. But her hopes were in vain.
The television was on, playing some obnoxious day-time talk show with a bunch of charlatan doctors shouting over their guest, and spouting outdated nutritional advice. She lasted all of two minutes, before she started frantically looking for the remote, only to be disappointed again when she found it, sitting on the kitchen counter, just out of arm's reach.
“Ugh!” she roared, trying to cover her ears as the television prattled on. Unfortunately, her shortened legs made it hard to keep her balance without at least one hand to support her, and she quickly gave up trying to shut out the obnoxious voices. “Gawd, I'm going to go mad if I have to sit here all day watching this trash!”
She looked at the bowl her husband had left on the island, and sighed. There was nothing to do but to try and distract herself by cooking up a meal. The island's shelves were mostly in reach, and filled with utensils and racks of spices.
The fridge was too far away, but Jerry had left out several ingredients for her, and a quick search of the island's shelves uncovered a small electric stove top. It wasn't much, but it should be enough for her to work with.
Sighing yet again, she set herself to work, and wondering how late her boyfriend's kids would sleep in today. “Stupid school, stupid virus,” she muttered, wanting to strangle the city council for ordering the school closures the day before. She'd be stuck playing house for weeks until things re-opened, and the children were finally out of her hair.
- B-RexThursday, July 23, 2020
Kat's Kitties
The initial real-life picture. |
And the face-transfer render. Came out pretty well, I think. |
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Bet Her Not 2
Well, the last post went over well with folks, so here's a continuance. I really hadn't planned for further adventures of Miss Wiffeneye, but I think this little chapter came out quite well.
Thanks to all who left comments on the last post. I appreciate the effort, and enjoy reading what you all think. Hopefully this sequel goes as well.
- B-Rex
Friday, July 10, 2020
Bet Her Not
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
Flight Plan
Happy Humpday, everybody!
Sorry for disappearing the last few weeks. A new guy I just trained quit on his second day mid-shift, and since I'm the only person who knows that position I've been forced to take up his shifts until we move to the new schedule. It's been a very annoying few weeks, and my sleep schedule has been royally messed up from swinging between shifts.
Thankfully the new schedule is starting Monday, so I should be back to normal.
I have been working on finishing up Ro-Sham-Bimbo 3 in my spare time. Things seem to be going well, though I'll need to do a fair bit of editing when I'm finally finished. I've made a lot of changes over the last few weeks, and need to make sure I didn't forget to remove some penalty effects that got wrote out during a previous edit.
Anyway, here's a very simple caption, sorry I don't have more ready for you all. This was going to be a short for the BDSMlr page, but I figure it's long enough to go here. Definitely some inspiration from Alyssa's old In-Flight Entertainment captions and story.
Sorry I couldn't really think of a snappier ending, but I might come back to this and make a sequel sometime.
She stood in the private aircraft's doorway, watching as the asshole's guests walked across the tarmac to the stairwell.
Maya Hyklubb had once been a pilot, a damned good one too, but that had been before the chauvinistic bastard bought out her small airline. She'd intended to quit, privately vowing to herself that she'd never fly that man anywhere. Sadly, she'd kept her vow, but not in the way she'd intended.
The day before she planned to resign, she'd been unceremoniously demoted by her new employer to the newly-redubbed stewardess ranking.
And her pilot's license was revoked! She was certain he was behind that too, having purchased the flight school she'd attended years before, the same school that had just decided that her education had been woefully inadequate and revoked her certification.
Needless to say, her attempts to explain the issue to potential employers fell on deaf ears, as her every job interview ended in a harsh 'don't call us, we'll call you' dismissal. There was no shortage of qualified pilots looking for work already, and without the possible legal baggage of being technically de-certified by their flight school.
To her utter disgust and disappointment, she'd had no choice but to don her new uniform and show up for work in her demoted position, and silently pray that her lawyers could settle the issues with her license soon.
Three years later, and Maya had a new name, new breasts, and a very empty bank account as her latest lawsuit fell through, again.
She also hadn't set foot off her airplane in months, per the new stewardess regulations the company had imposed. Her every waking hour was spent aboard plane, servicing guests.
She even slept in the aircraft, in a makeshift cubicle taken from some hotel in Tokyo. The plane's renovated storage compartment was filled with a dozen of the identical sleeping tubes, each reserved for a member of the flight crew.
Maya greeted her employer's latest guests one by one as they stepped aboard, and let the other stewardess see them to their seats.
She sighed as the last entered, and stared longingly out at the pavement, then at the sky. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, and she basked in the early morning rays. It was about all the sun she ever got anymore, though the tanning booth she was required to use each day in the plane's tail section kept her skin well bronzed year round, just like the stewardess handbook required.
“Ah, Miss Hyklubb, looking lovely as always I see.”
She forced herself to smile, as her employer stepped from the stairwell onto his private jet.
“Oh thank you sir, I do my best to always appear presentable,” she cooed, shoving her nearly bare chest forward. She was required to flirt at all times. “Your guests have been seated, will there be any more joining us?”
It was a standard question, and she hardly cared. His private parties aboard were always well attended, and she was certain the flight was going to be the usual nightmare they always were, as she fended off the two dozen horny, drunken guests until they landed.
“Yes, five more should be arriving shortly.”
“I'll just add them to the--” she paused, staring at the flight manifest. There were only four spaces left aboard. “Uh, sir, that's twenty-seven persons on board.”
“Ah, I see those private math lessons were money well spent, Maya,” her billionaire boss chortled.
She barely fought back a glare. The lessons had been one of his many little humiliating additions to her life. She'd graduated college on the Dean's list, yet was forced to take elementary course work taught by a teenager from a local high school near the private airport.
“Very much, sir. A few more lessons, and I'll be ready to learn subtraction,” she said, somehow managing to not add a sarcastic tone to her voice. “But sir, there are only twenty-six seats aboard. One of your guests will have to leave.”
He paused, thinking. Rich or not, he had to follow official procedure, or risk having the airline shut down for violating FDA rules. All passengers had to be seated during takeoff, no exceptions.
“That is a problem. I promised them all a hell of a party, and some of these guests are worth a lot of money, I can't afford to snub them publicly like this...” He frowned, then seemed to make up his mind. “Actually, I think I have a solution. Maya, you'll give up your seat to one of my guests. You don't have a problem with that, do you?”
Her heart leaped. He was going to have her leave the flight?! For the first time in years, she'd be allowed to leave, to walk outside the confines of her aluminum and chrome prison?!
“Absolutely not, sir!” she answered, a little too loudly.
“Wonderful, then it's settled,” he said. She turned to wave the airport crew back, as they pushed the stairwell away from the aircraft. “You'll spend the flight sitting on my lap.”
She stopped, hand frozen mid-wave. He just smirked, and pulled the jet's door closed on her hopes.