Pink Christmas

In the time-honoured tradition of making everything about Christmas, I present to you my yuletide caption, which has absolutely nothing to do with the season.

I have also decided to spare you one of the many rants that have been brewing inside my head, opting instead for wishes of peace, sisterhood and goodwill among ladies.

It has been a tumultuous year in many respects, but I do not regret a moment of it: the ups and downs, the brilliance and errors, the love and hate… well, maybe just the hate.

I promise to return in the new year. I know my production has somewhat waned, but I am making some progress into that book I’m trying to write… slowly but surely.

It will take a long, long time (so please don’t hold your breath) but just so you know, your dearest sweet Brenda IS working productively. I will try to whip off a caption or two, now and then.

So all the best to you and yours, and… enjoy!

Pink Surprise

At long last, it’s a brand new cap… and thank goodness! That ol’ Halloween series was really making me cringe, and in all the wrong ways. I mean, the story was good, but it didn’t seem have that special polish.

Truth be told, writing has been difficult for me lately. For one, much of energy has been devoted to other aspects of my perversion, namely by talking directly to you, the reader, in different facets of social media. Perhaps more significantly, my mind has been drifting to grander endeavours.

I’ve talked a lot over the years (for those who were paying attention) about writing an actual book. Indeed, the stories in my mind have been growing larger and more complex, and I have found myself sketching out plotlines and characters during times when I’d otherwise be captioning.

Now, don’t get too excited (keep those panties dry… for now!) since any such book would be a looooooong way in the future, but the seeds have been planted. In the meantime, I will try to stay current on this blog and post more of this delightful little gems that you oh so enjoy.

Speaking of which, this next little one is… interesting. Actually, this one underwent significant revisions, and it seemed to force itself into existence. I tried my best to keep it dainty and eloquent, but perhaps you can tell me whether I was successful.

That’s right, folks, there is actually a comment box where you can post your sentiments, and undying love for yours truly. You know you want to. Seriously, it will feel sooooooo good! Even more, it is a surefire way to gain my thoughtful attention… so I mean, like, use your head bimbos!

(or is it “bimboes”??)

Enjoy!

An Unfortunate Night

Ah, the dreaded Friday afternoon posting: the time of week where people care least about online perversity. No matter, I wanted to get this out there because… well, just because.

I liked An Unfortunate Encounter and I think it’s one of my better caps. Someone recently commented that they would like to see what happened next to poor Matthew, and such queries are usually impossible for me to resist. It just goes to show: your comments count.

It’s been a very long day, for so many reasons, so I am pretty much all out of words. Not much philosophizing today, folks. I’ll just let the caption do the talking, and I’ll see you in the comment section.

Enjoy!

Faked Out

These have been tumultuous times for your dear Brenda... I know, I know... when are things otherwise for your resident drama queen? But this time, it's different.

[singing: fooled around and fell in loooove…]

Fell in, fell out, and shook it all about... now, of course, you can never really fall out of love, but you can hurt the living shit out of each other like nobody else. I am not proud of my actions, but I am also not disdainful of those against me.

Anyway, that is not even my point. The fact that my girlfriend was really my boyfriend is only incidental, and certainly nothing to be ashamed of, right? The thing that upsets me the most is how this disrupts my entire philosophy.

I had come to the conclusion over recent months (years, even) that bimbo-ism is a gender neutral thing. Now it occurs to me that the women I met through my blogs, and elsewhere on the Internet, were all men: virtually every single one of them.

The most recent and prominent point in case is Summer, from Summer's Captions, a veeeeery popular Tumblr site. Part of its appeal was the (completely fabricated) backstory of its otherwise talented author. His writing would have stood on its own... why do people lie?

Easy answer: for attention. We all want dem chicks, but they simply aren't out there, not the ones who are into what we're into… in the way that we’re into it. So we create them, we fill the void with fraudulent personas… and oh, how sissies flock!

More difficult answer: the Internet allows us to live our desires. Yes, we crave the attention, but it is also about the personal expression of something deep and meaningful inside. What is gender, what is identity, in a cybernetic world? Please tell me.

I still haven't thought all of this fully through, not with the attention it deserves. Right now, I am still dealing with significant anger and resentment… partially at myself, for my own naiveté, and also at the flagrant disregard we seem to have for members of our own community.

In the prisoners dilemma, where the optimal outcome is based on trust, there will always be those who seek to gain by defection. Stop it. I need this world, and I refuse to see it ruined by liars and intellectual criminals. Accept your obscurity, your loneliness, and help us all build something better together.

I've said it before: all we have is ourselves. Nobody else cares for us, so let's start caring for ourselves, and treating each other with honesty and respect.

I can forgive all these people, and perhaps even love them (see top) but they have yet to account for the shattering of my worldview... or the breaking of my heart. Running and hiding is the cowardly approach. Stand up. Be a man. Better yet, be a woman: courageous, strong and accountable.

Am I perfect? Yes. Get over it!

Enjoy!

Blindfolds

[Original text has been deleted because it sucks... enjoy the caption!]

Nothing More, Nothing Less

“No, thank you… I’m fine,” Sarah rasped nervously. She really could have done with a cup of tea, but damned if she was going to accept a single drop from this woman, or anything else for that matter. “I must insist that we get straight to the issue at hand.”

The issue, of course, was her husband, David, whom she recently learned was spending an inordinate amount of time with this… prostitute. She was not fooling anyone with that garish costume, least of all Sarah. True, the apartment was posh, but it was just a veneer, like everything else in this sleazy affair.

“Are you sure,” the woman queried, pretending not to notice the obvious distain emanating from her guest, “but you will not mind if I have some myself?” She rang the bell in her leather clad hand, just once, and then set it back down on her lap.

Sarah cleared her throat. “Sorry… Jezebel, was it? I don’t mean to be rude, but I honestly don’t buy into any of this ‘lifestyle domination’ nonsense.” She was surprised at her own directness. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re simply the woman who’s been screwing my husband.”

Jezebel smiled, as though she was indulging an impudent child, “I can assure you that nobody is ‘screwing’ anyone, Mrs Taylor. I understand your confusion, given the circumstances, but while you are in my home, I would ask that you respect my title.”

Sarah was astounded. This harlot, this woman who stole her husband, just reminded Sarah to address her as Mistress. “Listen up, you whore…” she started, when, as if on cue, a servant entered the room. How cute, Sarah thought to herself, she even has a cross-dressed maid.

“Thank you, Davina,” said the Mistress, without breaking her smile. The maid stood calmly by her side, a ridiculous sight, the picture of mindless obedience. “Unfortunately, I have lost my taste for tea, but I think our guest might volunteer to return it to the kitchen for you.

“Ha!” Sarah could hardly contain her astonishment, “You have some lot of nerve if you think that I… I…” it was then Sarah realized that the maid, underneath his wig and layers of makeup, behind that cold vacant stare, was her husband. She could barely draw out his name: “D-David?”

“So now you see what this is really about,” Mistress Jezebel gloated, “and what David has been up to these past several months. Between our lengthy sessions and my… unique methods… I can assure you that he’s totally mine.”

The hapless wife gaped for what seemed like an eternity, searching in vain for a glimmer of recognition her husband’s face. “David, wake up!” she barked, “I’m taking you home!” But the maid would not budge. It was almost as though he was no longer human.

“Davina made his decision,” the Mistress explained, toying with the hem of his skirt, “not that he ever really had one… I am offering you a choice,” she smirked, brazenly stroking his smooth hairless thighs, “simply do as I say, and he shall go free.”

Sarah’s mind was spinning cartwheels: David must have been tricked, or brainwashed somehow, he never would have consented to this deplorable travesty… or would he? None of this made sense. The devious bastard, I ought to let him rot… but what if he was innocent?

The maid stepped forward and offered the cup to Sarah. She hesitated, hoping for a surreptitious wink or some other sign, but there was nothing. “There is no need to wash it, just give it a rinse,” the Mistress instructed, “Davina will show you the way to the kitchen.”

Sarah glared at her tormentor, but quickly thought twice about her response. This woman, she was holding all the cards, and Sarah had to learn the truth. She took the cup, visibly seething, her words dripping with venom, “will that be all… Mistress?”

“Oh, hardly, my dear,” Mistress Jezebel laughed, “I am afraid this is only the beginning. When you are done with the dishes, Davina will find you a uniform to wear. It is standard issue, I’m afraid, but it will have to do for now.”

“Y-you couldn’t possibly mean… “ the girl stammered, porcelain cup trembling in her hands. What else could she do? It was clear that this woman was not interested in negotiating. She could still run away and abandon her husband… but then what would happen to him?

“I am presenting you with an opportunity to redeem yourself,” the Mistress explained, “as rudeness towards me is simply not tolerated. We will talk more, when you are suitably attired, but in the meantime, you would do well to show your appreciation.”

“Yes, Mistress Jezebel,” the girl forced a smile, the best and brightest she could muster. I will play your game for now, she fumed, but the instant you let your guard down, I am leaving with my husband! Sarah held her breath and performed a delicate curtsey. Mistress Jezebel nodded with approval.

Sarah spun on her heels to complete her first task. She felt almost sorry for the poor deluded Mistress. Yes, she thought, rinsing the cup, I will just play along, nothing more, nothing less. She could barely keep herself from giggling at her ridiculous situation.

Her reverie was broken by Davina, standing in the doorway. This was her chance: “David,” she hissed, looking deep in his eyes... her thoughts trailed off. Those eyes, they were fathomless! Everything she wanted to say seemed less important somehow, less urgent.

His eyes conveyed a peaceful serenity that was remarkably rich and complex. How come she never noticed this before? It must be so nice to live in the moment, without a single care in the world. She offered her hand to lead him away, but found herself following instead.

The maid led Sarah into the next room and quickly stripped her naked. Well, it's not quite like our wedding night, she joked to herself, but then she felt guilty for mocking her husband. Sure, their marriage had problems, but she always stood by her vows, to love, honor and...

"Oh," she gasped, as the maid's dress came down over head. It caught her by surprise, and she snapped back to her senses. This was a mistake. What was she thinking? Sarah started to panic as David proceeded to tie an apron around her back. She had to leave this place right now!

David, what are you doing?” she yelled, except she didn’t really yell, or even say a word. She stood perfectly still while David layered makeup onto her face until it resembled a mask. As a finishing touch, he pinned a lacy white cap atop her head.

Sarah caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her heart nearly stopped. This reflection… was her? “Sorry,” said David, snapping his fingers, and a dozen flashbulbs went off inside her head. By the time she refocused, her husband was gone, and so were all her possessions.

“This is… n-no…” her thoughts were returning, but they were quickly interrupted by the ringing of a bell. She blanched: Mistress Jezebel was waiting! The bell rang again, and she rushed down the hallway as fast as she could.

“Oh, there you are,” the Mistress droned sarcastically, “I thought there was something wrong with my bell… I simply can’t imagine what took you so long!” She paused, genuinely concerned, “are you feeling alright, Davina? You look a bit flush.”

“Da-Davina?” she stuttered, scanning the room for her husband, but finding no sign. She looked down at her body and touched her flat chest: What? How? Her hands darted down between her legs where she found a tiny cock wriggling in its cage.

Mistress Jezebel raised an eyebrow. “Now, if you’re done with your little burlesque show, we need to talk about what happened here today. I just saw your wife running out my front door,” the Mistress scowled, “obviously, I’m disappointed, but really not surprised.”

“My… wife...” the words came slowly, as though she was stalling for time. It suddenly occurred to her that nobody knew where she was. As far as the world was concerned, Sarah was fine and on her way home, not trapped in a body that wasn’t her own.

“Yes, she seems to have abandoned you, despite my strongest enchantments, and I cannot help but think that you had something to do with it,” her eyes gleamed mischievously, “so you will be punished twice: once for your own infraction and another for hers.”

“M-Mistress Jezebel…” she tried to explain, but stopped. It was strange how this almost made sense to her. This had to be a dream, she reasoned, I will just play along: nothing more, nothing less. She desperately wanted to cry, but her body seemed incapable.

“You shall become the very same thing that your wife dared to call me… a whore,” spat the Mistress, her upper lip curling with disgust, “and her memory will provide you no comfort, not anymore, because in your mind, she never existed.”

Davina stared ahead blankly, suddenly empty and utterly vacant. He could not remember a single moment from the past. All he had left was the lingering feeling that his body wasn’t his own: indeed, it belonged to his Mistress, to do with however she pleased.

Friends in Need

I write a lot about trickery. I like to believe that my writing is honest (whatever that means) but how could that be? Are they two sides of an ever spinning coin, blurring in my mind to be one and the same thing?

What about the third side?

I find myself believing more and more about opposing forces, whether two, three, twelve or some irrational number. Truly all is vibration, oscillation which gives reality its substance. A being at rest is true nothing.

I have spoken about resistance as being a necessary driver to fiction: again, it is measure to counter-measure and the sensation of existence. I find this pattern repeating itself, time and again, and it’s especially manifest in the realm of the mind, whether individual or collective (e.g. Internet).

Sound and fury, signifying… nothing? We make noise, and noise atop noise, and create vast complexities which overwhelm us in our attempt to feel real. When we hit the figurative wall and things come to a stop, the meaningless becomes apparent.

But we are never still, we never stop, because relative to something, we are always moving. Is it the coin that is spinning or is it us, spinning around it, faster and faster? And where are we exactly, in the realm of the mind, our quantum existence, where we can be everywhere at once and nowhere at all?

If you want to know the connection between the body and mind, corporeal and incorporeal, it is really and most truly you: your will, your drive, your focus, your creation. You bridge these dimensions, a being of them both, reflecting the laws from one upon the other in the most astounding ways.

Twisting, turning and trickery… are essential. The Truth alone is silent, peaceful and reflective. The first words themselves were most certainly lies of egregious proportions. Say, for example, let there be light: was this not really let there be darkness?

Could there be honesty in lies, truth in deception, wisdom in foolishness? How could there not be? The coin never actually lands: it’s all just a matter of perception. And there is no coin. Whoever told you there is one is a liar.

We all want to spin, faster and faster down the hypnotic spiral, deeper and deepest to where we lose all volition and control, becoming none, becoming all: everything blurred beyond recognition… does Truth itself have a counter-measure?

(Getting dizzy here)

Caption! Yes, here it is: something new, something different, the kind of which I have never done before. Here it goes into the vast universe, to be consumed by the vortex of your hungry little eyes… I can hear them nibbling right now… they sound like mice.

(I’ll just leave you be… enjoy!)

An Unfortunate Encounter

Folks!

It has come to my attention that some of you may be experiencing technical difficulties while trying to post comments. One the one hand, it pleases to me know that Blogger, rather than lethargy, is the reason for my dearth of feedback. On the other hand… damn!

(Is there a computer doctor in the house?)

Fortunately, I have received enough reassurance these days that my confidence is riding at reasonably high levels, so I’m actually not all that concerned one way or another… as sucky as it may be that I’m possibly missing out on some fascinating threads of discussion.

Anyway, you did not come here to hear me wax on and on about my administrative concerns. You came to get off, and I think I can help you… maybe.

This next caption is really, really hot… except that some of you may have seen it before. No matter, not only has it been polished (oh, will you even notice?) but to many of you, it might even be new.

While I still have some pots on the stove, I haven’t gotten much of a chance to work on them these days. Still, I have reason to believe that my creative juices might be heating to a simmer, and if all goes as expected, to a full rolling boil.

Which is more that I can say for this pedantic, pedestrian introduction – where is the deep philosophical musing? Where is the introspective questioning, the soul rending emotion? I’m simply too tired… a little bit worn and stretched… but in a good way.

Oh, how mysterious, Brenda! Pray tell, what have you been up to? None of your beeswax, says me! Besides, many of you already know, and those who do not, you may drop an e-mail if the comments still aren’t working. I love to hear from all my bright-eyed, bushy-tailed fans telling me how wonderful I am.

I am pretty wonderful, aren’t? Come on… you can say it! Shout it from the rooftops so that everyone can hear it: Brenda has the biggest tits imaginable!

(Didn’t that feel good?)

Enjoy!

I'll Tumbl 4 Ya 2

Ahhh... Blogger. This place feels like home to  me.

It is so nice to back, in my tiny little corner of the web, free from prying eyes with just you, my one and only reader, to share the delights of my perverted little offspring.

So what are we to talk about? Hmm... politics? Naw, too religious. Religion? Too political. I know! how about crossdressing!

Have you ever seen a sillier little word? So quaint, so patronizing, so square. It reminds me of this other word I used to know... homosexual. That is one word that might even be sillier.

I mean, the point is that you are sexually attracted to men... does it really matter if you happen to be a man yourself, however loosely defined? I much prefer the term androphyllic, or gynephyllic, however clinical they may sound, as attraction to the masculine and feminine respectively.

So, too, I would reclassify the sexual paraphilia... such as crossdressing, pfft! Folks, it pure bimboism, which, as far as I've learned, is NOT gender specific! Gender confuses the issue; it does not define it.

Do you think any of the doctors, psychiatrists, clinicians or scientists even care, despite the escalating preponderance of this condition? Well, perhaps that question is too harsh. Let me put it another way: do you think society gives a shit?

Oh, Mamas! Don't let your babies grow up to be crossdressers! Let them be homosexuals, transgendered and such!

I mean, don't get me wrong... I have the greatest esteem for homosexuals and transgendered (except when they also happen to be criminals, financial executives, etc.) but that just isn't me... and I am NOT a crossdresser!!!

Labels... why so fixated with labels, my therapist asks me. I think labels are like money: people who have them really don't think they are such a big deal.

Ooooohhhhh.... so NICE to be back, and with such delicious fare! Feast your eyes on the following:

I'll Tumbl 4 Ya

I feel like I’ve been spreading nothing but anger and confusion this past little while, so I figure it’s long past time to balance the scales. I present to thee: a brand new cap!

It’s funny, having done this for so long, to recently learn that some people call them “manips” – what an odd name! I always thought they referred to manipulated pictures, of the sort that Callidus might do, but apparently the term enjoys wider usage.

I do not “manipulate” pictures (people, on the other hand, are another matter entirely) preferring to keep them virginal and pure for my verbal massage. I will, however, use the term manip a few more times in order to increase my hit count.

Speaking of hit count, I recently got back in touch with my good friend kaokatt.deviantart.com after a very long and inexplicable hiatus, and she was kind enough to explain why nobody cares about my long-toothed ramblings and tired old manips.

Just kidding, of course: she is nothing but pink and fluffy. Really, she explained to me how Blogger is simply not the “cutting edge” any more, with people preferring to fill their panties on long streams of photos from the (relatively) anonymous Tumblr.

Oh, I have seen Tumblr, in all of it’s glory! I even have an account there, which nobody checks. In addition to countless gorgeous pics, there are also many prodigious “manipulators” whose writing talents might even rival my own (not to mention those of the unparalleled Samantha, another Blogger holdout).

And their output, zounds! How do they find the time to do anything else in life? Regardless, I am a stalwart, a stick in the mud. I am used to doing things my way, and that shall not change. Also, I simply cannot keep up with the frenetic pace of Tumblr.

Besides, I provide a specialized product for the discerning reader, one who wishes to sit and absorb, and not let all their absorption be done by a wad of tissue. Not that I have anything against tissue, oh no... and get your wad ready, because here it comes…

Enjoy!

Who (or what) is Candy Dumplings?

Hello, folks!

Yeah, it's Brenda... still.

I know, I know. Some of you are probably wondering "what's going on?" or "has crazy Brenda finally lost her knockers?"

The thing is, I don't know who I am any more! But I do know one thing... can you say it with me, folks?

"Big Tits!"

That's right, you sweet dumplings. Your dear Brenda is still here, but happens to be in something of a pickle, an identity crisis, if you will.

...

What's the point, really? I mean with all of this? All this frustration and shame? It's overwhelming. I want to be happy and carefree like Candy... but I can't... I just can't.

So many bad things have been happening to me lately, and I know... I know what you're going to say. Please don't. 

This not a cry for help: it's a cry into the void. I want my lover to reach out to me, whoever you are, wherever you are... but nothing.

"Please be attracted to my magnificent otherness," I plead, but there is no otherness; only nothingness.

There is no otherness for the likes of you and me. We are asexual. We do not reproduce, and least not with these compulsions, not without a lie... male OR female (that's right you little lipstick lesbians!)

This next caption is... special. For some of you, it will be a retread, and a pleasant one, I hope. It is one of my best captions, and I do so wish I could write like this again.

I miss you, PL.

Enjoy!

Please help!

I have never done this before, but I am posting a caption to which I have absolutely zero ownership. I think it is phenomenally hot, but I have no idea who the writer is!

If it is you, or someone you know, then please please please let me know!

Hey, feel free to share with me, and all of us, any other discoveries that might be of interest.

Fall on your knees...

Hey folks,

I had this big ol' angry diatribe all written and prepared, but then I thought: who cares! This was actually one of those occasions they tell you about, where if you feel angry about something, just write it out... whaddya know, it worked!

So no need to share any of that with you. I'm just going to get straight to the goods here. To those of you follow me on Tumblr, you might recognize this next number from a few weeks back. I've spent some time trying to make it all blog-worthy, and it ended up pretty the same as it began.

I hope you like it! I really thought I was posting some magical ditties lately, but they seem to have been fallen flat for some reason. Who knows? It's a good thing that I write primarily for myself. Yep, no point getting caught up in a big ol' ego trip or anything.

No ma'am, not me... just a humble li'l captioneer, here.

Enjoy!

Here Comes the Bride

Before we get down to business, I would like to take a moment to explain the difference between a doll and a doll-like creature (or DLC). Perhaps this is remedial for some of you, but apparently it warrants some discussion among the less enlightened.

You see, a doll is made of plastic, whereas a DLC is just like you and me, with flesh, bones, organs and tissues. Dolls do not eat, breathe or go to the bathroom. They are objects. Are you with me so far?

If you want a permanent transformation, it should be into a doll, not a DLC. I mean, think about: who will take care of its organic needs? How do you place it on a pedestal or store it away for extended periods of time?

Listen, DLCs have their place, and I have been known to use them on more than one occasion. They are temporary or transitional states, to be used in a wider context of mind control. Sometimes, in a story, I do not want “how is this possible?” to rear its ugly head, so I employ conventional means, such as drugs and hypnosis, to render a person virtually inanimate or otherwise a puppet.

When I write a doll story, I take it for granted that such fantastical transformations can and do happen, but this does give me license to make up a universe where anything goes. In other words, I want to make it as realistic as possible… it just happens that a person was turned into plastic.

Okay, how are we doing? I'm almost at my point. So… plastic, yet realistic. Let me ask you this: in a body that does contain eardrums, how do you hear? How do you see out of glass eyes? Obviously, it’s all part of the magical convention that we simply accept (for example, trapped consciousness) but then how do you set limits on what can be heard and seen?

Our biology both enables and limits our senses. When we transcend our biology, why to feel compelled to bring our limitations with us?

There is no reason why a doll (unlike a DLC) should not see and hear things much better than you or me. The alternative, in my mind, is to not see or hear anything at all. Anything in-between is simply our organic bias talking.

Furthermore, I find entirely cruel that a man or woman might be transformed into a doll without such natuarl gifts. The sheer boredom of living in a sensory sphere while kept alone for 99% of your existence is really sheer torture, no matter how fabulously dressed you are.

Still confused? Go back a few weeks to read my Best… Doll… Caption… Ever… or read it again. In case you haven’t heard me say it before, I consider myself the thinking pervert’s writer. There are more than enough sites out there if you want a cheep thrill.

Now then, lecture’s over. Let’s get back to the fun stuff: a brand new caption! Oh yes, this is one is solid gold. What else can I say?  Once more, I am asking you to read between the lines because I packed some nice stuff in there. Come on, don’t be shy…

Enjoy!

Happy Father's Day!

Hello, all you sons and daughters!

In celebration of that man so responsible for our dysfunction, I am reposting my "classic" Father's Day caption.

Sorry for not having any new stuff today. As some of you know, I am heavily working, with a bunch of stuff around 90% complete, but not quite at that elusive 100%.

You see, my standards are much higher than once they were, as evidenced by this beauty below. Now, I would not be reposting unless I thought it was quality, but you can see how my style has changed over the years (while in many ways remaining the same).

Incidentally, it has been sooooooo nice hearing from you, some of you old and some of you new. Always so nice. Please keep it coming... don't be shy! The worst that can happen is that I manipulate you into becoming a cock hungry slut.

(Am I allowed to say that on Blogger? And how would Google translate that? Have I just messed up my keywords? Oh, please do not spam me!)

Anyway, hopefully your next wait will be somewhat shorter. Further to the above, I do have one cap up to 98% and another hovering at 93%. There is one in particularly sitting in the high eighties, but poor silly Sarah refuses to proof read it for me!

Oh yeah, speaking of proof reading, I have a funny story... you see, there is this highly esteemed EMC author with whom I have something of a passing acquaintance, in the manner, apparently, of an ant having a passing acquaintance with a shoe. I kindly asked her (not Sarah) to proof read the above-mentioned story, and she kindly responded with her hourly rate.

Can you believe that? Who the hell is me, some fly-by-night captioner? I'm BRENDA dammit! Hey, maybe I should start charging too, a nickel a view...

... that should get me up to ten dollars by the end of the summer. Oh well.

Enjoy!

Best... Doll... Caption... Ever...

I normally don't like to toot my own horn (oh, get your mind out of the gutter... yes, I do THAT quite often!) but I feel that I've been on a roll as of late, and I truly believe that the following caption is extraordinary.

No, it is not explicitly TG, but I hardly think that matters. While I always try to slip in such elements, this one resisted my efforts. It was as stubborn and resolute as the selfsame doll.

I would hardly say that the caption wrote itself, but my muse clearly had her story in mind (even though it took me a while to figure out her intentions). Perhaps the larger picture will reveal MY intentions to make this a bimbo blog (not simply TG) for both male and female visitors.

Those of you who remember my old blog may also remember my fascination with women who share my same core fantasy, such that we start with our own particular gender but arrive at similar end states.

I remain fascinated by this parallel (I know there is a better word out there for it, but it escapes me) and I am more convinced than ever that it does in fact exist. What does it mean? Good question. I was hoping you would tell me.

In the meantime... Enjoy!

 

Hot Pink Shame

Hey folks! It’s been a couple of weeks, so I thought I’d check in. I’m attaching a cap that wrote a several months ago, that some of you may have already seen. I am posting it here because I like it, and would like to share it as part of my official canon.

I would also like to rap with you a bit about a topic with which you might be familiar: shame. I have written about it in the past, but it keeps popping up. I feel that shame is intimately linked with our peculiar manner of arousal.

You may also call it humiliation, if you’d like… but there can be doubt that our brand of fetish falls clearly outside of social norms. Is this simply a byproduct, or something more? Are we misfits by nature, or did our perversion somehow contribute to this outcome?

I have heard a lot of people say, some highly reputable sources, to not to be ashamed by our fetish: embrace it; embody it; be proud. I would say no: be ashamed... be very, very ashamed. Shame is spicy, shame is hot, and without it, they are only just clothes.

Now, fetish and identity are two separate things. Yes, I am in favor of confidence and self-esteem, but my sexual fantasies are irrevocably tied with social anxieties. We can have two lives, says I, and balance our duality, inside and outside the closet.

Embrace it? No, fight it! Accept it? No, deny it! Be like those quantum particles with simultaneous ontologies.

I feel awful sometimes, so deeply depressed… meaningless, isolated, confused. I like to maintain a public persona, but privately I am overwrought. My shame is private, it is mine, and you cannot have it. I would cry out: Reclaim the Shame!

Whip that surly bastard, but do not let him go… no matter how he wriggles.

Brenda's Revenge (Part Seven)

It has been a long and tumultuous series which started with Brian, the victim of some unfathomable corporate bureaucracy, finding himself irreconcilably in skirts. The only direction was down, and what an irreverent fall it was, his body and mind irrevocably changed to the irrepressible whims of his irredeemable boss, Mr Banyon (I am sorry if you find my discourse irritating).

But then Mr Banyon found himself on the opposite end of the spectrum, with none other than Brenda (neé Brian) to administer his punishment. While it seemed at first that our Brenda was reluctant, it came to pass that perhaps she was not all that innocent. In fact, through a series of deft and cynical moves, she managed to bring Bambi (neé Mr Banyon) under her sharp stiletto heel, with Mistress Alexa next in her crosshairs.

Was Brenda successful in her grandiose plan? Well, 58% of you told me she was… so then I suppose that it’s true then. But I do not like it (insert: frowny face). Mind you, I am somewhat flattered, that some of you may have figured that storytime Brenda was a surrogate for me, but I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again: I hate, hate, HATE it when the hero/ine wins!!!

Having said that, there is something to be said for growth and empowerment, which are messages that many of us (me included) would be wise to internalize. In any case, I am a sissy of my word, so here you have it, the final chapter of Brenda’s revenge:

Wait, wait, wait! Hold on there just one moment! Some of you young’uns may not know me so well, but it’s hardly my nature to end things like that! I mean, why do one ending when you can do two? You see, while I may indulge your frivolous votes, mine was for the Mr Banyon ending. In fact, it’s the only ending that I ever really envisioned.

You see, what is the point of irreversible (sorry) brainwashing if it turns out to be, well… reversible? I wrote this story to explore just how far, just how deep Mr Banyon could delve into Brenda and make her his own. It’s like, he completely razed the field of her psyche and locked an impenetrable iron sphere around the core of her being. From there, he grew a new garden more to his liking.

So, even though Brenda may have flowered, there remained an essential element of control that could not be broken, unless you razed her completely again (which I would not recommend: I do not think her psyche could take it again, and cracking the sphere would probably damage her core). Perhaps you feel differently? Let me know what you think after reading this alternative ending:

And why do two endings when you can do three? A significant number of you voted for the Mistress Alexa ending… so why not share that one as well? It seems plausible to me that (a) she was too smart to be easily outsmarted, and (b) her own brainwashing devices would not work on her, which means she was only playing along with Brenda to see how far she intended to go.

Perhaps some you voted this way because you saw this logic, or perhaps you just wanted to see a dominant woman in charge… or some other reason? Irregardless (ha, ha! Not really a word!) I do believe that she had genuine feelings for Brenda, and she must have felt soooooo hurt by her betrayal. Alas, behold the fury of a woman scorned:

Okay, folks… that’s all for now! I hope you have enjoyed the Mr Banyon saga. I do not envision any third part (at least not anytime soon) but if it happens, I shall respect your votes, and continue from the “Brenda on top” angle. In the meantime, I’ll be posting a mixture of new and old stuff in the days and weeks ahead. I have been experimenting with some new approaches that I would like to share with all of you, and I’ll also be throwing in some vintage and “little-seen” captions.

Whew! ‘Nuff said!

Brenda's Revenge (Part Six)

Sorry for the long wait, my little dewdrops. It has taken me longer than expected to work through this story, but I hope your patience has been rewarded.

Some of you have guessed where this story was going (particularly after the last part) but I challenge you to guess how it is going to end...

You see, not even I know who will "win" this ultimate showdown. Does Brenda assert her dominance or will Mistress Alexa take back the reigns? Perhaps our dear Mr Banyon ends up on top. I am leaving it to you to decide!

That's right, I want you vote for the outcome of this story. Take a gander to the right of this page and register your vote. I am curious to see what you'll all decide.

In the meantime, read and enjoy!

Brenda's Revenge (Part Five)

I realize that my last post, aside from having my shortest commentary ever, may have also been one of my least sexy captions ever... I hope it got a little rise out of you, but it's all in the name of advancing the plot.

And oh, how it thickens as we approach the culmination! What new twists and and turns are in store? I will assume that none of you have guessed, as you would have done so already. I take your silence to mean awe-inspired enthrallment. Please, no need to thank me... just wipe up your drool (and other bodily fluids).

So here it is, the next part... read and enjoy!

Brenda's Revenge (Part Four)

[INSERT PITHY STATEMENTS]

Brenda's Revenge (Part Three)

I've had a few thoughts running through my mind lately, about porn addiction and how it causes one to keep upping the stakes, pushing it further and further each time, leading to new and novel avenues of perversion. You know, like building a tolerance and then switching drugs or increasing the dosage.

I'm sure there are many of you out there who understand what I'm talking about. Take me, for example: when I first started crossdressing, for a number of years, it such a big taboo to imagine myself with a vagina, now it's de rigueur as part of my fantasy. Likewise the idea of being with a man, sucking cock and so forth... it just gets deeper and deeper, more and more twisted.

And then I also started thinking about our collective fantasy, this thing we call... what exactly? I've heard the term "crossdreaming" which is a good phrase in many respects, but also a bit awkward and clunky... it just hasn't caught on. Anyway, this collective thing has changed and evolved over the years. The type of content that I see online is somehow different than it was five, ten... fifteen, twenty (am I dating myself?) years ago.

Is it just the nature of technology and the Internet, as it continues to expand and enter our lives, or is there something more at play? Would it do any good to categorize and delineate different roads of our fantasy and the divergent routes they might take? Is there a common starting point that we all share, or at least two or three (or more) common core siblings?

Does anyone care? How about I just get on with the caption... perhaps my favorite one this still young series. I hope that you will agree and leave many, many comments. I am so lonely *sniff*

Enjoy!

Brenda's Revenge (Part Two)

So now we are well in our way into Brenda's Revenge... and it's about time, too! That arrogant Mr Banyon, it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine!

I've been working so hard, I haven't any time or energy for my usual philosophizing, so you will have to make do with the caption itself... scratch that, I do have one thought.

It is somewhat new for me to deal with a story arc, a challenge which I also encountered in the first Mr Banyon story. I am trying to progress the plot, yet make each caption panty-wetting in it's own right.

It is also my intention to make one or two mind blowing twists that totally soak through to your skirt: the so-called "money-caption". I think the first is coming next, with the later hopefully to follow.

I really wish that some of you would tell me how my experiments are going. As I try to make the transition from mere captioner to full blown storyteller, any feedback would be helpful.

Okay, enough of this nonsense... read and enjoy!

Brenda's Revenge (Part One)

Do you remember those tales of ships at sea, comprised entirely of males, as they were at the time, how certain among them were chosen to serve as female companions? I used to spend some time imaging those bygone days… fantasizing.

I suppose that prisons are similar, but ships are far more romantic. One might also imagine the ship crashing on a faraway isle and such arrangements becoming more twisted and permanent… but I digress. I want you to imagine instead that all of these men wanted to be the woman.

That is kind of how we are, just ourselves, with nobody else to play our darkest dreams and fantasies… except it’s more that we’re each on our own deserted island, communicating to one another with floating bottles and such.

Yes, yes, yes… I can hear all your arguments, but I urge you to forget them. I know there are exceptions and details and blah blah blah, but the sooner we accept the fact that we are alone, the better. Alone, with each other.

So listen to my tales, with which I hope to amuse you! To be precise, I am launching a “Sequele in Seven Partes” as my seaborne ancestors would declare. Tis the story of our poor hapless Brenda and her sadistic Mr Banyon, but now we see a new player has entered the stage!

Oh, what trials and tribulations are to follow? Is this just another long rambling piece going nowhere, or is it in fact a well-structured story with ethos and pathos, twists and turns and a hair bending ending? I would posit the latter, but really there is only one for you to find out…

Enjoy!

Another Blast from the Past

Thought I'd share with you another blast from my past, one of my all favs that I managed to steal back from the web.

I am still looking for my most of my lost caps, pretty much from 2010 or so onwards... basically, anything I can find. If you happen across anything that looks remotely Brend-esque, please let me know. Likewise, if you know of any good archives or repositories, please bring them to my attention.

I am gearing up for the next seven chapters of my Mr Banyon saga (I have called them "parts" but really they should be "chapters" divided into parts... oh, well) for those of you who care. Hopefully you do, because you really haven't much choice. I wrote 'em, and I really kind of like 'em. There is actually something of a plot to this next set, which I hope will titillate as well as arouse.

In the meantime... enjoy!

Kristi Sprinkles

As some of you know, I used to be a blogger... I mean, like, a real blogger. I had something like 2,000 visitors a day. In fact, you only had to search "TG Captions" and my name would come out on top.

That was back in the day, before every Tammy, Didi and Jane had their own caption blog. Now I'm stuck at the bottom of the heap, in my worn out mini-dress and scuffed up heels, begging for every pair of passing eyeballs.

Was it all for the best? Have I learned some valuable lessons about life and transience? Have I made a real impact, one that I cannot possibly ever know, but is real nonetheless? Does anyone even care?

I lost a good number of my older caps, mostly from my middle period. I have managed to track down only a few, and some that I found are better off lost. That surprises me a bit: I always thought that everything I wrote was golden. I mean, it felt like it at the time.

Perhaps I am learning just how much I have changed, that my writing has grown and developed. Perhaps I have a better understanding of composition and style.Perhaps I can appreciate this more now than I otherwise would have. Perhaps I have learned about arrogance and delusion.

Or perhaps not.

I am attaching one of my favorite captions of all time, and I was so very happy to find it, lurking in the dark corners of the Internet. It brings back a lot fond memories when I was on the peak of my prowess and the comments were many and compelling.

I remember this one girl who was just so talented and smart, and unbelievably cute. Her name was "subtly amiss" which I still love. Where she has gone, who the heck knows? Where do any of us go? Where the heck are we?

Anyway, enjoy the cap, and let me know if it brings back any memories for you...

Mr Banyon (Part Seven)

Welcome, to all you miscreants from World of TG! I am pleased to be on its highly selective blogroll, and I anticipate many juicy eyeballs on which to bestow my heavily captioned treats.

You arrived just in time... well, not really. I am just wrapping up my famous Mr Banyon series. You may read this concluding chapter right now, but I would encourage you to start from the beginning.

As for the rest of you… well, here it is. Perhaps you are thinking it’s a bit anti-climatic? Well… um, screw you! (Ha, ha, ha! I would never really insult my readership. You are marvelous, each and every one of you). 

To be honest, I knew from the start there was only one direction this could go: deeper and deeper, twisted and twistier... I never actually thought it would go this far. 

I mean, the outcome surprises even me. This is some subject matter that frankly makes me uncomfortable, and I will have a few sleepless nights just thinking about what I wrote. 

I want to avoid spoilers, so just read and enjoy, and hopefully we can discuss this in comments. One thing that I will say is… it ain’t over yet! 

That’s right, folks: I’ve got a sequel all ready and rarin’ to go! Maybe this will give you the comeuppance that some of you were hoping for… or maybe not, but I promise it will be a doozy!

Mr Banyon (Part Six)

Here's the thing: I know many people out there like me are suffering. I mean, unless you grew up with this inexplicable desire to dress like -- or be like -- a member of the opposite sex, you can have no idea of the guilt, shame and loneliness that can plague you throughout your life.

Writing has been my own way of coming to terms with (see: understanding, reconciling) this very strange and understudied phenomenon. This is one of the reasons that I hate bad fiction: it leaves everyone hollow and empty. I want my stories to be therapeutic for you, as well as for me.

It is a cliched, but true nonetheless: nobody understands us. All we really have is each other, and those other delightful souls whose perversions border, or even overlap our own. All I have ever wanted to do is reach out, to connect... and get you off: furiously and repeatedly.

How am I doing so far? Enjoy this sixth part, and let me know what you think.

Mr Banyon (Part Five)

I trust you are enjoying the lives and affairs of our dear Mr Banyon and my hapless ersatz, Brenda.

Like it or not, there is still plenty more to come! The chapters are already written and waiting to be posted.

Is this really invigorating writing, or just some masturbatory exercise... hopefully both! In any case, I hope you do enjoy...

Mr Banyon (Part Four)

The saga continues, already halfway there... so nice to see some people following me, and even some more are taking the time to read the fruits of my labor.

I appreciate each and every set of eyeballs that feast upon my work. I hope you can see that I put a lot of thought and effort into my caps, and I do not consider any of them to be throwaway. It is my ambition to have them fill your mind and haunt your dreams... or at least wet your panties.

I haven't much more to say on this groggy Monday morning, but feel free as always to share your thoughts with me.

Enjoy!

Mr Banyon (Part Three)

There is something about reluctance, whether through mind control or otherwise, that makes our descent into fantasy so arousing. Cynics would argue it’s because we’re too weak or deluded to accept our own desires, that we need some form of proxy to absolve us of guilt.

I would argue that it’s more like catharsis. Our hero on screen is living our fantasy, the one that we know will never be real, at least not for us. I mean, think of all those reality shows full of rich and famous people: we never like to see them happy and content, only bickering and arguing over trivial things.

How aggravating it is to see stories and captions about happy little people who are happily transformed. No, there needs to be conflict, and the outcome must be ambiguous. This person on screen is living my deepest fantasy. I demand from my hero to put up the struggle that I would never give.

I say “nay” to the cynics, and “yay” to reluctance, in all of its forms! Though a part of me would probably hesitate if granted that mythical wish, I do know, carefully worded, what that wish would be… and that it wouldn't be entertaining to read.

Mr Banyon (Part Two)

Okay, I can't put it off any longer... here is the second part to my soon-to-be-famous Mr Banyon series! As you can see, poor Brenda's fate has taken a slight turn for the worse, but fear not: I just know she'll muster through.

That's all I'm gonna say because I'm totally spent and nearly out of words, but for one thing: I started a Tumblr page! It contains a bunch of stuff that you won't find on here, but I plan to post my juiciest work on this site first. So that's double the Brenda for the same low price.

Enjoy!

Mr Banyon (Part One)

Hello, to all my friends in this weird Google multiverse, and to you, perhaps a new friend who was just passing by… welcome!

As you may know, I put a lot of thought into my captions... a lot of blood, sweat, tears and other bodily fluids… all for you. So please take a moment to read them, and especially this one: it kicks off the first of a seven part series.

It originally started as a one-shot, but the captioning gods and goddesses compelled me to look deeper, to plunge the depths of my depraved unconscious. The spoils are here for you to enjoy… but in due course. The remaining parts, while written, are still being polished.

In the meantime, please read... and leave me your comments. In a cold and callous world, they are the only things that bring me warmth.

Maid to Serve

I just love all the delightful puns you can make with "maid" in your title: Maid to Order, Man-Maid, etc, etc. 

Truly, what self-loathing sissy worth her salt wouldn't just loooove to become a saucy little maid? For me, I can say, it's my No. 1 Fantasy.

This is a nice little cap that I recently wrote, but I'm really just filling up time... for what, you might ask? As some of you know, I've recently written a seven-part series which does contain (although not exclusively) a nice little maid component.

So, I'm just getting my goats together, and in a few more days, I should be ready to launch... and who knows, maybe by then I will have a few more followers.

In the meantime... Enjoy!

If you post it, they will cum...

Well, I might as well get the blog rolling. I choose to inaugurate my new blog with a sweet little cap that I wrote specifically for my dear little friend, Tina Lee. 

Tina Lee likes to cum... a lot, and I mean A LOT a lot... it's kind of like an in-joke between us. We share the same brain, in some ways. That is, I know how she thinks and feels. I enjoy my power over her, knowing that I can get her dripping with just a single word, and drive her raging with just a few more.

I seldom personalize caps, nor do I have someone specifically in mind when I write then. My characters are usually broad generalizations or faceless archetypes, but Tina Lee is special, and deserves special recognition. Dedicating this caption, and this blog, to her can bring nothing but luck, so here goes. 

I have 45 page views as of my writing this. With a little bit of gumption and help from you all, I hope to bring that up considerably. 

Enjoy!

First Post

I'm just working out the kinks (in more way than one) on this here blog. I hope get things up and started real, real soon. I've got a steaming hot load of deliciously perverted captions just raring to go, which I shall pepper and salt with just the right about of musing, reflection and outright beguilement.

Let the countdown commence!