Gwen's Playroom

A collection of the things that inspire fun, naughty notions in my mind as well as the TF, FemDom, bimbofication, domestication, Stepfordization -- even sometimes sissification if the mood strikes me -- and MC/hypno captions I write for my amusement -- as well as others. And no, that isn't me -- it's the lovely Ms. Ross as she appeared in the closing scene of one of my all time favorite movies.
Images assumed to be public domain. The break of said copyright is neither intentional or for profit. Models are assumed to be 18+.
Posts I Like
fishalivecaps:

She watched the door closely, waiting for the footsteps to go by. The journal had to be her little secret. Without it, she knew she would lose track of time in this place and then it wouldn’t be long before she lost what was left of her mind.
She read the early entries every morning to remind herself how she had once been. That she had been kidnapped from her home. That her hair used to be cropped short. That she had kicked and screamed and resisted when she was first brought to this place. 
As each day passed, that girl seemed more and more distant. She didn’t really mind her room now. It had a make-up table where she could pass the time by making herself pretty. A fresh outfit was laid out every day, complete with a new pair of heels. Her feet didn’t feel right unless they were at an angle. 
The journal was important but reading it now just made her sad. Half of her realising that there was nothing she could do, half of her pitying the plain woman she used to be. As the door knob turned, she hesitated a moment before stuffing the little notebook under her cushion.

So intriguing

fishalivecaps:

She watched the door closely, waiting for the footsteps to go by. The journal had to be her little secret. Without it, she knew she would lose track of time in this place and then it wouldn’t be long before she lost what was left of her mind.

She read the early entries every morning to remind herself how she had once been. That she had been kidnapped from her home. That her hair used to be cropped short. That she had kicked and screamed and resisted when she was first brought to this place. 

As each day passed, that girl seemed more and more distant. She didn’t really mind her room now. It had a make-up table where she could pass the time by making herself pretty. A fresh outfit was laid out every day, complete with a new pair of heels. Her feet didn’t feel right unless they were at an angle. 

The journal was important but reading it now just made her sad. Half of her realising that there was nothing she could do, half of her pitying the plain woman she used to be. As the door knob turned, she hesitated a moment before stuffing the little notebook under her cushion.

So intriguing

It felt so good to just let go.  To no longer worry and fret.  To no longer have to be counted upon or to count upon others.  To simply lay there and be pretty.
In pretty bows.
And pretty red things.
With a pretty red smile.
A perfect red package.
About to be opened.

It felt so good to just let go.  To no longer worry and fret.  To no longer have to be counted upon or to count upon others.  To simply lay there and be pretty.

In pretty bows.

And pretty red things.

With a pretty red smile.

A perfect red package.

About to be opened.

Dr. Reed couldn’t help herself.  

It didn’t just feel proper to decorate her favorite part of her body.

It felt important.  Like. Super important.  Like way more important than the hormone research she and Dr. Barnes had been doing.

Like way more important than being on time to meetings and stuff with all those stuffy people except for Dr. Anderson who is like totally dreamy and makes her wanna do all sorts of naughty things with her fingers and her tongue and ohhh no.. she was gonna have to change again.

Silly her.

Dr. Thomas was well on her way now.  Goodness, didn’t everything just feel more pretty and perfect and delicious now that Dr. Barnes had shared his research with her.

I mean, they had always been rivals at The Corporation and that was fine and all, but it was like, so very much better now that they could just be like … friends … or something like that.

I mean, Daddy … ahem … Dr. Barnes had show her how to think better and do things better and even bought her some nice presents to make it easier for her to think better and do things better.

Like, what kind of things and stuff?  Well like, like this sweater and these tights and ooohhhh the highlights!  Daddy.. oh shoot..she keeps doing that… Dr. Barnes, he thinks she’d be super cute as a blonde and she thought it was best to take one step at a time.

And oooohh speaking of steps! New shoes are coming soon! She can’t wait to sit on Daddy’s lap and show them off! *Giggle*

And neither can Dr. Barnes.

Dr. Shaw was broken one yummy lil’ cupcake at a time. First at lunch, another for dinner.  One in the morning.  Again in the break room.  
At lunch once more.  In the coffee shop on the way home.  At dinner with her friends who noted her laugh.
At home with her husband who noted her giggles.
In the morning on the bus as she sang sweetly to herself.
In the conference room where she drew hearts upon the boards.
And <giggle> it didn’t bother it at all! Not one scrumptious lil’ bit!
Dr. Barnes had seen to that.

Dr. Shaw was broken one yummy lil’ cupcake at a time. First at lunch, another for dinner.  One in the morning.  Again in the break room.  

At lunch once more.  In the coffee shop on the way home.  At dinner with her friends who noted her laugh.

At home with her husband who noted her giggles.

In the morning on the bus as she sang sweetly to herself.

In the conference room where she drew hearts upon the boards.

And <giggle> it didn’t bother it at all! Not one scrumptious lil’ bit!

Dr. Barnes had seen to that.

So much fun in so few words!

paladininblack:

Case 20131221f: Caitlin Kelly
"Honey, do you think this dress is too short? This used to fit me so well, but since that spa vacation you got me, some of my things just don’t fit like they used to. Maybe it just shrunk in the wash somehow.
"You know, now that I think about it, a LOT of things seem to have changed since then. Like, didn’t I used to work at some sort of boring office job? I mean, I love my job as a model, with all those skimpy clothes, but somehow it just feels like a new experience. I also love getting stared at all day, getting hotter and hotter, then coming home and screwing your brains out… but even that seems somehow… unfamiliar?
"I know, I know, I’m just being silly… but for some reason even my tits and hair sometimes seem new, like I am not used to them for some reason.
"Oh yeah? You think you know how to get my mind off this? OK, smart guy. Go for it. [Zzzziiip] Uh… ummm… wha… what were we talking about? No, don’t stop!"

So much fun in so few words!

paladininblack:

Case 20131221f: Caitlin Kelly

"Honey, do you think this dress is too short? This used to fit me so well, but since that spa vacation you got me, some of my things just don’t fit like they used to. Maybe it just shrunk in the wash somehow.

"You know, now that I think about it, a LOT of things seem to have changed since then. Like, didn’t I used to work at some sort of boring office job? I mean, I love my job as a model, with all those skimpy clothes, but somehow it just feels like a new experience. I also love getting stared at all day, getting hotter and hotter, then coming home and screwing your brains out… but even that seems somehow… unfamiliar?

"I know, I know, I’m just being silly… but for some reason even my tits and hair sometimes seem new, like I am not used to them for some reason.

"Oh yeah? You think you know how to get my mind off this? OK, smart guy. Go for it. [Zzzziiip] Uh… ummm… wha… what were we talking about? No, don’t stop!"

Dr. Reardon spun and twirled, the diaphanous ruffles of her pink frock floating around her frame.
"What do you think?" asked Dr. Barnes.
"Oh, I just adore it! My favorite one, yet! It makes me feel so, so &#8230; "
"Yes?"
"Adorable!" Even the oft-staid Dr. Reardon couldn&#8217;t stifle the giggle and her glasses just barely contained the sparkles in her eyes, the doll-like fluttering of her lashes.
Dr. Barnes smiled, pleased with the progress he had made.  Tasked with developing an anti-aging health program for The Corporation, Dr. Barnes had taken a cavalier and unconventional approach, focusing on the mind rather than the body.
Dr. Reardon, owing him a favor after he crunched some big data for her own traffic-control recognition software, agreed to serve as a test subject.  After all, what risk was she actually taking?  Feeling better than her 37-year-old self?
So she humored him, listening to the polyrhythmic recordings, watching the biorhythmic videos he developed.  And in turn, he was awfully nice to her, buying her a new outfit every few days it seemed.  
Yes.  There was just that nice pale blue sweater at first, with those perfect pearl buttons up the front.
And then that cute skirt that reminder her of ice skating, gray and pale blue, with that little ribbon tie at the center.  Hardly office wear, but for a fun Friday little spot of something.  And with the sweater?  So very cute.
And then there was that first dress and that stiff white collar, the black watch plaid at least made it feel a little more&#8230;  well &#8230; the whole thing was classically cute and school girlish which&#8230; again &#8230; on a Tuesday was perfectly okay. Especially when paired with a proper jacket and heels.
And there were others too, of course, but this one, with the beading felt almost decadent on a Thursday but decadent wasn&#8217;t the right word.  It was too much.  Too big.  This was just &#8230; adorable and pretty.
Yes. Very, very pretty. With its little sleeves like last week&#8217;s and the pink like the sweater and still with her grown up girl shoes and stuff so it was good for feeling big still and &#8230; she had to let Dr. Barnes know.  She needed to find a little girls room.
"Of course, let&#8217;s go back to the lab."
She wouldn&#8217;t need to worry about that by next week &#8230; not with these results.

Dr. Reardon spun and twirled, the diaphanous ruffles of her pink frock floating around her frame.

"What do you think?" asked Dr. Barnes.

"Oh, I just adore it! My favorite one, yet! It makes me feel so, so … "

"Yes?"

"Adorable!" Even the oft-staid Dr. Reardon couldn’t stifle the giggle and her glasses just barely contained the sparkles in her eyes, the doll-like fluttering of her lashes.

Dr. Barnes smiled, pleased with the progress he had made.  Tasked with developing an anti-aging health program for The Corporation, Dr. Barnes had taken a cavalier and unconventional approach, focusing on the mind rather than the body.

Dr. Reardon, owing him a favor after he crunched some big data for her own traffic-control recognition software, agreed to serve as a test subject.  After all, what risk was she actually taking?  Feeling better than her 37-year-old self?

So she humored him, listening to the polyrhythmic recordings, watching the biorhythmic videos he developed.  And in turn, he was awfully nice to her, buying her a new outfit every few days it seemed.  

Yes.  There was just that nice pale blue sweater at first, with those perfect pearl buttons up the front.

And then that cute skirt that reminder her of ice skating, gray and pale blue, with that little ribbon tie at the center.  Hardly office wear, but for a fun Friday little spot of something.  And with the sweater?  So very cute.

And then there was that first dress and that stiff white collar, the black watch plaid at least made it feel a little more…  well … the whole thing was classically cute and school girlish which… again … on a Tuesday was perfectly okay. Especially when paired with a proper jacket and heels.

And there were others too, of course, but this one, with the beading felt almost decadent on a Thursday but decadent wasn’t the right word.  It was too much.  Too big.  This was just … adorable and pretty.

Yes. Very, very pretty. With its little sleeves like last week’s and the pink like the sweater and still with her grown up girl shoes and stuff so it was good for feeling big still and … she had to let Dr. Barnes know.  She needed to find a little girls room.

"Of course, let’s go back to the lab."

She wouldn’t need to worry about that by next week … not with these results.

bimboisbetter:

She came home to find the cupcakes sitting on the counter. She didn’t want to spoil her appetite, so she just tried a small taste of the frosting.
It tasted good.
It made her head feel a little bit tingly, too, in the funniest way. Maybe I’ll just eat one, she thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

Goodness I miss having time to write.  I love this.

bimboisbetter:

She came home to find the cupcakes sitting on the counter. She didn’t want to spoil her appetite, so she just tried a small taste of the frosting.

It tasted good.

It made her head feel a little bit tingly, too, in the funniest way. Maybe I’ll just eat one, she thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

Goodness I miss having time to write.  I love this.

(via bimboisbetter-deactivated201401)

Perfect.

bimboisbetter:

I tried not to move as the girl painted my lips. As usual, she tittered away about something or another. I tried to just sit still, watching the other girls coming and going, trying to get a sense of a pattern, see if I could figure out a way to sneak out.

The girl pulled her hands back, looking at me expectantly. Shit. Had she been saying something I was supposed to be responding to?

I giggled, nodding a little. “Oh,” I said, “um, totally!”

She beamed, and went back to touch up more of my makeup. The nice thing about having to pretend to be a brainwashed bimbo is that it’s not a bad thing to get distracted. Everybody treats it like it’s expected.

Frankly, I’m no positive why I’m not a brainwashed bimbo. I’ve seen dozens of girls enter the chamber they put me in. They go in kicking and screaming, fighting, furious. They come out giggling and demure and eager to please. I don’t understand how it works. I just know it didn’t work on me.

I stood in line with the other girls, shackled in place, watching every girl in front of me go in defiant and resistant and come out stupid and obedient. They shoved me in and shut the door. I pounded on it, enraged, terrified. Then the lights started. Dozens of them, flashing and blinking, various colors, all around me. I felt dazed, overwhelmed. I fell to the floor, staring up at them. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t shut my eyes. I could feel something happening to me, pushing on my brain, trying to change me, adjust me, making me-

They stopped.

I blinked a few times, recovering. I felt my conscious self returning. It… didn’t work. I was still me. Somehow, I had resisted it!

I heard the door on the other side unlock. “C’mon out, sweetie!” I heard the guard-bimbo by the exit call. And my stomach dropped.

It hadn’t worked, but it had been working. What if they put me in again? What if they did that over and over? It’d break me. I could feel it. I had to…

I had to pretend.

I put a big, vapid smile on my face, remembering how the other girls looked. I took a deep breath, tried to quell my pounding heart, and opened the door.

They were all going to know. They’d be able to tell. I wasn’t one of them. I was faking. It must be so obvious.

But nobody reacted. They guided me around to where I needed to go. I was stripped, showered, shaved and waxed, pampered and primped and dolled up. My hair was cut and dyed, my makeup gets done over and over each day. I’m sent to the gym, the cafeteria, the salon. We watch porn for hours each day, playing with ourselves, learning new positions.

And I do all of it, smiling, unquestioning. And I watch.

There’s got to be a weakness somewhere, I tell myself. There’s a way out. A soft spot. I just have to spot it. They’re training us - some get sold off to ‘buyers’, whoever they might be. Others end up as personal servants to the small cadre of men who run this facility. That’s what scares me most - if I’m sold, the chances of escape must be better, right? That’s what I’m hoping for. I’ll get to my buyer’s home and escape from there.

But tonight… I’m worried. One of The Men - that’s all we know them as - has expressed an interest in me. I’m getting dolled up for him. Tonight, I’m being sent to his in-facility residence. I’m sure I’ll have to fuck him. Blow him. Whatever other depravities he has in mind - they’ve got a reputation, The Men. Of course, the girls here titter and coo about how wonderful they are, so it’s a good reputation, in their minds. But for me… I’m scared. I’m going to go through all that, and I’ll have to smile and giggle and make like it makes me happier than anything else ever has. Because if he sees through me… well, they’ll put me in the chamber again. And again and again and again, until I’m changed. I can’t let that happen.

So I’ll be the obedient bimbo they want me to be. I’ll be dumb and slutty and pretty and horny and completely compliant. And just maybe, I’ll spot my way out of here soon.

(Thanks for this awesome suggestion! I hope you like what I did with the idea!)

(via bimboisbetter-deactivated201401)

Absolutely love you captions. I am curious though, are all these stories just a fantasy for you, or do you hope to experience them to some degree in real life?
gwenswitch gwenswitch Said:

Oh these are fantasy.  Of course, there are moments that I would love to tumble head over giggling heels into one of these experiences.  I just wouldn’t want to stay there forever.