The latest image is the cover Kylie Gable's Feminization Folio 21, its a collection of some of her more recent stories: The T&A in TA, Sissification of Brenda and The Newlyweds. In the foreground is the husband of Newlyweds bound and gagged in panties after being madeover by his wife and friends. In the middle is the teaching assistant from the TA story and in the background is Brenda from her sissy maid story witnessing the feminization of the other males with the ladies in the background enjoying the entertainment. It was done in photoshop as you can tell I was a bit rusty, but still had a blast doing it. I'm thinking of putting all the Kylie Folio images in the classic cover section of the blog.
Speaking of which....we have a treat for you! The Newlyweds from Kylie Gable and Victoria Vaughn is now up on the blog. Kylie was so kind to gift us this lovely sexy story of hers to the blog. Thank you Kylie!
It was recently featured in Kylie Gable's Feminization Folio 21. A story about newlywed husband Justin being feminized by his wife and her friends one evening. What sets this short story apart is that it is written like a ceremonial spiritual transition for a modern suburban male husband to a emasculated docile almost neutered (not literally of course) submissive role for all to witness as a trophy achievement of the ladies effort! Written by the gifted hand of the lovely Kylie Gable and Victoria Vaughn.
Sample:
"Let's make you pretty now," I declared with a touch of mischief in my voice. Sarah handed me a dress, the fabric soft and delicate, a stark contrast to the restraints holding Justin. We maneuvered the garment over his head, guiding his bound arms through the sleeves. The hem fell into place, skimming his thighs with an almost teasing caress. Annie and Christine giggled as they adjusted the fit, tucking and smoothing until the dress hugged his form just right.
"Your transformation isn't complete without the perfect manicure," Sarah chimed in, brandishing a bottle of pink nail polish with a flourish. I grasped his hand, uncurling his fingers from their tense position. Carefully, I painted each nail, the brush strokes sure and even. The color was playful, a bubblegum shade that popped against his pale skin. Christine held up a hand mirror, angling it so Justin could catch glimpses of his painted nails.
"See? You can be beautiful too," I teased, blowing on the wet polish to speed the drying. The act itself was nurturing, yet laden with condescension. We were dressing him not for his pleasure, but for ours—a doll to be decorated and displayed.
"Almost done," I murmured, anticipation building within me. This was more than a game; it was a declaration, a new chapter in our relationship where I would lead, and he would follow. And as I looked down at Justin, dressed in femininity and bound by promise and metal, I knew we had crossed a threshold from which there was no return.
The soft bristles of the makeup brush danced across Justin's cheekbones, the contouring powder sculpting his face into a softer, more feminine visage. His eyes, though clouded with a mix of fear and resignation, couldn't look away from the meticulous transformation being made by my steady hand. I dipped the tip into a pot of shimmering eyeshadow, a hue that would make his blue eyes stand out, even if they were to be seen only by us.
"Keep still," I instructed gently, yet with an underlying firmness that reminded him of his place in this moment. My friends watched on, their presence an unspoken force that kept him anchored in his submissive role. Sarah chuckled softly as she handed me a slender tube of mascara, her eyes glinting with the same sense of control that pulsed through me.
"Flutter for me," I said as I approached Justin’s lashes with the wand, and he complied, the effect both bizarre and beautiful as his lashes thickened and darkened under the cosmetic. Christine passed me a lip pencil next, and with deliberate precision, I traced the outline of his muzzled mouth, shaping it into a pout before filling it in with a bright, arresting shade of red lipstick. The color mocked the silence behind the gag, a bold statement against the softness we forced upon his features.
"Perfect," Annie breathed out, her voice a melody of satisfaction. They each took turns admiring their handiwork, their laughs and nods casting a glow of approval over our makeshift salon. Their dominance, my dominance—it was woven into every stroke of the brush, every swipe of color. We had reshaped not just his appearance but the dynamic between us, etching it into the layers of foundation and blush.
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