ChatGPT

 I have a new drug, and it's called ChatGPT. If I thought that browsing - and occasionally shopping from - 2nd hand clothes sites was bad, this is is way, way worse.

Have you ever tried using generative AI to generate TG fiction? For a long time, I haven't, because ChatGPT required a phone number to register, and I didn't want to tie my actual phone number to these sick, depraved stuff I post on the internet myself ;) Moreover, I learned, too, of the environmental cost of running these AI models, which is another thing that turns me away from using them when not absolutely necessary.

Last week, though, I realised that you can now login to ChatGPT with an email address alone, and, boy oh boy, did I start to ignore the environmental aspect of it.

For me, this is a tremendous time black hole, I've lost hours, including more than half a night's sleep, feeding synopses into ChatGPT, asking it to write stories. I did ask for a couple illustrations, too, but I don't do that anymore because, a) it takes a really long time, b) I can't ignore the environmental aspect on that one and mainly c) it rips off honest-working artists. The stories are less of a problem in that regard, since being a member of the guild here, I am sort of okaying the procedure.

I was astonished with the ease the AI spews out the story, based on a short prompt. Of course, as many of you might have found yourselves, as soon as it detects too much femdom, it refuses to cooperate, but it's not too difficult to reframe the story setting to include just enough consent for it to continue (it's cool, the therapist makes the husband crossdress because she wants to help him, and deep down, the husband knows it's for his own good.) The stories are rather short and full of open discussion about the emotion of the characters, which sort of kills the forced fem vibe, at the same time, I cannot help but marvel how craftfully some of the dialogues are done, or at the ease of some passages (the same passages that have taken me hours and several attempts, mind you). In the end, I don't even enjoy reading those stories so much as I enjoy crafting the story synopses, feeding them into the machine and getting human-like feedback. As I've mentioned, hours pass easily, especially since it's a seemingly low-investment activity - let's just ask it to make something of this basic premise, but then hey how about we make it like this or we make it like that...

Below, I'm posting a story I managed to write by myself, before I got swallowed by the erotic use of generative AI. I got the inspiration for it when I was putting on makeup in the morning. That's also another fun thing I've picked up, but unlike other fun things, it rarely takes me more than 10 minutes a pop. The results are quite sobering, to say the least. Like many Bea's characters, I have always been of gentle features. Back when I still had hair, and wore it long, people would mistake me for a girl. But the makeup and the wig really bring out the masculine in my face. My delicate thin chin seems unmistakably angular and the beard, that does not seem to be able to grow beyond a half-translucent fuzz when unshaven for weeks, stands out as the shadow from under my foundation and powder, no matter how closely I shave... But I like applying it, none the less. For the occasional morning I get to be home alone, it's just the perfect form of good, clean fun.

Sleepover

It's probably fair to say that a good deal of my art has been inspired by Bea, either directly or indirectly, seeing that his fiction helped shape my interest in the feminization genre, plus I've done a small number of drawings based on specific stories of his.  Something I’ve never mentioned before is that I’ve even entertained the notion of choosing one of his stories to turn into a comic.  I’m always thinking about how I’d like to do more sequential artwork, and basing a comic on Bea’s writing could be a way of further experimenting with that artform while simultaneously paying tribute to an author whose work had an impact on me.  Also, to be frank, since I’m not adept at making up stories on my own, it feels a lot easier to “borrow” a plot from elsewhere.  It’s a little too late to ask Bea for his permission, but I think he probably wouldn’t have objected. 

Bea's “Sleepover” is a story that once seemed to me like a suitable candidate for a comic adaptation.  Other than it standing out in my mind for some reason, it’s short enough that such a project didn’t feel too insurmountable.  A few years ago, I actually got as far as scripting out the first few pages and gathering some art references, though all that was lost when my old laptop died, and I sort of gave up on the idea after that.

I once told Bea about how someone from Lustomic had approached me about doing a comic for their site, but Bea expressed skepticism that I was capable of completing a project that required that level of commitment.  I can only suppose that he based that opinion on the one time he commissioned me to do a handful of illustrations, during which it might not have escaped his notice that I'm not the fastest of artists.  Seeing that I never followed through on that Lustomic thing, his dim assessment may not have been entirely wrong.  I did eventually complete Help Wanted, that comic I did in collaboration with James Craft for Sick Puppy Press, which was about forty pages, though it took forever for me to draw and it’s somewhat of a miracle that it got finished at all, partly due to the aforementioned failure of my laptop, but also because I’m prone to getting into slumps.  

In my defense, producing the artwork for an entire comic single-handedly was grueling work, especially when I was determined to not skimp on quality.  If I ever do another comic project, I may need to find a way to simplify the process to make it a more manageable task.  Like an idiot, I'd told the person from Lustomic that I estimated I could do a twenty page comic in a month's time, but they politely pointed out that that was most likely an unrealistic goal, as I discovered for myself when I did Help Wanted (Still available from sixpacksite.com where you can purchase part one and part two individually or as one complete volume!)  

Looking back, I suddenly recall that part of the reason things didn't go anywhere with Lustomic, other than my laziness, is because they wanted to see a script before I did anything else, and as I already pointed out, making up stories is not really my strong suit, besides which, I am incredibly shy and I felt embarrassed at the thought of having to compose a narrative that was specifically erotic in nature and then submit it to someone. 

“Sleepover” may not be the ideal Bea story to center a comic around anyway.  For one thing, there may not be enough focus on feminization to satisfy some.  It might even seem as if it ends just as it's getting good.  If I had turned it into a comic, I would definitely have changed a few details.  Also, while this story involves a type of forced feminization scenario I happen to like, I wonder if it sort of hits a little differently today when bigoted politicians and influencers, etc. are fearmongering about the "transing" of the youth, though I'm sure Bea couldn't have predicted any of that when he wrote this decades ago and was presumably not thinking about anything other than producing an appealing fantasy.  Maybe I'm overthinking things, as usual.  All that aside, I still think it’s not a bad little story, but I’ll let you be the judge.  

Is there a particular story you’d be interested in seeing turned into a comic?  Or would I be better off attempting to develop my own stories instead of ripping-off someone else’s?  Or should I just stick to standalone drawings?

 

Sleepover 

By Bea

"Philip!  Would you just take your pills!  How do you ever expect to grow up to be big and strong like your sister if you don't do as I tell you?"

"But Doris?  I've been taking them for MONTHS now and I swear that they're not doing me any good!"  I looked up at her and felt my eyes fill with tears.

"Would you take a gander at THAT?"  Dallas snorted.  "I think Philippa is going to cry – again mom!  Damn sissy!"

My stepmother and step sister looked at me mockingly.  My dad was dead for some time and I seemed to have fallen under their control more and more.  Although Dallas – my sister, was about the same size as me, there was no doubt as to me being the weakest - and she bullied me unmercifully, both physically and mentally.  Doris, my stepmother, pretended to treat us both equally, but that was total bullshit.  Dallas could do no wrong – and I could do nothing right.

"But Doris!  These pills are goddamn dumb!  I'm NOT getting any stronger and. ."

Dallas punched me lightly on the shoulder.  It hurt and I started to cry.  This stopped my talking for enough time for her to interrupt.

"That's another thing mom!  Philippa's language is NOT nice!  Far too many goddamn cuss words!  And she shows NO respect for you at all mom!"

I gawped at her nonsense!  She swore ALL the time!  And I'd been calling my stepmother 'Doris' for years!

To my amazement, Doris nodded agreeably.  "She's right you know, Philip!  Your language has become deplorable!  Not nice at all!  On top of that?  I think you should call me 'Mummy' all the time now.  It sounds MUCH nicer!"

"But Doris!  She keeps calling me by a girl's name! Swears ALL the time  and - oooh oooh oooh!"  I started to cry in earnest as Dallas really punched me on the upper arm.

"WHAT did mom tell you to call her from now on?" She was snarling.

I hugged my sore arm.  "Mummy?"

"That's a good little girl!  Now you can say what you were going to say!"

I kept a careful look on Dallas as I spoke again.

"But mummy? Dallas swears ALL the time!  It’s not FAIR!"

Doris shook her head. "Honestly Philip!  Just listen to yourself!  Whining and crying like a girl!  It's no wonder that Dallas teases you a little."  She smiled fondly at her daughter before continuing.  "She's just a natural tomboy.  Very HARD to control. On the other hand, I've got high hopes for you.  You're sweet and gentle.  Nice to have around the house.  Nice company for your mummy."

I looked at her helplessly. Some months before, I had been stupid enough to let Dallas taunt me into a physical wrestling match, which she'd won easily.  Doris had found us, me pinned to the floor by Dallas's knees while she straddled me and mocked me for being such a sissy.

Doris had pretended that this type of situation couldn't be allowed to go on.  Had gotten some 'strength' diet from somewhere or someone.  Swore that the pills would increase my muscle power and strength.  I wasn't too sure. For the first few weeks, maybe a month, I'd believed her, but I'd gradually felt that I was getting weaker.  When I'd brought this to her attention, she'd simply increased the amount of pills – and I gradually got weaker and weaker.  Started to cry a lot – which made Dallas openly refer to me as Philippa and tease me even further.  I was getting suspicious looking swellings on my breasts and they were getting awfully tender.

At this point though, Dallas raised my hopes.  She looked at her mom.  "You know mom?  I don't think those pills ARE doing Philippa any good."

Doris raised her eyebrows in surprise.  "You don't?"

"No.  Obviously, he needs more!  I'll swear he's turning into a little girl more and more. Even embarrasses me at school!"

"I don't want any more, mummy?  Please?"  I said plaintively.

She reacted immediately.  "Honestly Philip!  I'll increase your dosage tomorrow. I wish you'd SEE that your big sister only has your best interests at heart.  She just commented the other day how wonderful you were!"

I looked at her in astonishment.   "That was the week end I had to stay in the house and clean up her room and do HER chores!"

"Yes!"  she enthused.  "And you did the housework SO well!"

"Yah!  Looked SO cute in the pretty little apron you had for him!"  Dallas laughed.  "But mom?  I wish you'd make him behave at school!"

We were both about to graduate from high school – a thing that made me very glad because Dallas was making my life miserable there as well – constantly teasing me and making me look small.  My dad had bought me a motor cycle – a small one – before he died, but somehow I seemed to have lost the little muscle power to even drive it – whereas Dallas could handle it easily. So I suffered the ignominy of having to ride pillion behind my sister while she drove us both to school – and oh – the mocking glances she'd shoot my way as she often roared off once she had dropped me.  You see, her mother had dictated in no uncertain terms that Dallas MUST drive slowly, when I was behind her.  Too much speed might be dangerous for me.

Naturally, she made this well known to all the girls – and they all just loved to tease me.  The boys would have as well, but Dallas and her tough friends had formed a kind of gang and they let it be known that they were 'protecting' me – so I was held in contempt by the tough boys, while even the weaker ones thought it best to leave me alone, and so my only company other than my only friend Andrew – who was young brother to one of Dallas's gang – were little feminine girls.  I really didn't want their company, but couldn't seem to avoid them as they seemed to make a point of clustering about me.  Accordingly, I spent much of my last year in school in the company of girls – another reason I was taunted by Dallas and put on my special diet by her mom.

 

Doris spoke to me.  "Yes Philip! Dallas DOES have a point you know!  How can you expect Dallas to treat you like a boy when you seem to hang out with little girls every time I pass the school.  Even wear pretty aprons to do the housework here.  I can SEE why she thinks that you're girlish."

"But Doris!" I started to complain, forgetting what I'd been told.

Then my sister actually spanked me!  Just grabbed me and dragged me to a close chair.  Put me over her knees and without any formalities, started to spank me, despite my cries and entreaties.  I heard Doris – mummy – make some weak complaint that she shouldn't – be spanking her brother – it probably wasn't right - but it didn't stop Dallas. While she spanked me she made sure that I agreed that Doris should be 'Mummy' from that moment on and that, yes, I deserved to be spanked for being naughty.  When she finally let me get to my feet, mummy then put salt in the wound by looking at me accusingly.

"I do wish you'd stop aggravating your sister!  I think you should say that you're sorry!"

My face stained with tears, I humbly faced Dallas and said how sorry I was for upsetting her.  She pointed to the carpet a foot or so in front of her.  "Stand here!"  She said.

Obediently, I went and stood.  Looked at her softly and weakly.

"You going to be a good little Philippa from now on?"  She asked me sternly.

"Yes Dallas."

"SAY IT!"

"I'll be a good little Philippa from now on!"

"No more unladylike language?"

"No Dallas.  I'll talk nicely."

"Better!  Now I have that party tonight.  Why don't you go and make sure my room is cleaned out, huh?"

I blinked.  "But I cleaned your room out earlier on Dallas.  Honest!  I knew you were having a sleepover with your friends tonight and I did it early!  Andrew's supposed to be coming over.  I'm to stay with him  . . ."

"Philippa!  Will you stop annoying your sister?  For goodness sake! I can understand why she needs to spank you.  Go and put your apron on and stop being naughty!"  Mummy was glaring at me.

I had managed to stop crying. Now I started again. "Mummy?  I'm not a girl!"

She looked at me tauntingly.  "Well!  I don't think you can blame me for forgetting you're a boy, can you?  Crying all the time when Dallas gives you a little love tap.  Dithering all the time when she tells you that her room needs cleaning! If you're going to act like a soft little girl, I think you should see that people will treat you like one!"

Dallas broke in.  "Philippa?  You're aggravating mom now!  Honestly!  Do you WANT another spanking?  Is that it?"  Dallas was grinning at her mother now, but pretending to be annoyed with me.

"Please don't Dallas. I'm sorry." I said, almost weeping with fright.

"Honestly!  He's more and more like a girl!  Wait a minute!"  Mummy grinned back sardonically at her daughter. "I have an idea!"  She left the room.

I stood there helplessly, with Dallas smirking at me.  A few seconds later, mummy came back with a diaphanous apron.  "Here!" she said, slipping it over my head. "A lot of girls would be jealous at seeing you in a lovely apron like this, would want one for themselves."

Dallas looked disappointed.  "But that's the apron he's been wearing mom.  What idea was it you had?"

"Wait until I get the ties all in a pretty bow!" Mummy said. Doing exactly that as she tied me in.  Then she spoke to me.

"You've been a naughty little girl – haven't you Philippa?"

I knew when I was licked.  "Yes mummy."

"And what do naughty little girls do to show that they are sorry?"

I looked at her confused.  "I'm sorry mummy.  I don't know."

"They curtsey and apologize prettily.  Isn't that what they do, Dallas?"

My sister grinned with the realization of my further shame.  "Yes!  Never thought of that mom.  Bet that Philippa will curtsey as nicely as we could wish!"

There was nothing left for me to do.  It took a little while for me to learn how to curtsey properly, but finally I curtsied both women in turn, my apron held in both hands as I lisped an apology.  Finally, they relented and let me go to do my chores.

I say that they were my chores but in all honesty, they were more like Dallas's and mummy's tasks – things that they had sometimes hired a young girl to do but now, I could see with a sinking heart that they were to become mine and I wondered how much spare time I would have, but I knew better to complain as I did laundry and beds and vacuumed floors.  Nervously, I kept eying the clock.  Andrew was coming by in his car to pick me up and yet I still had my packing to do and neither of the women would give me any time to myself. I'd just finish one task, when they'd think up another and the day was passing.  To make things worse, Dallas made me curtsey her all the time now.

Mummy made dinner, but I had to tidy up.  I finally thought I had time to pack when Dallas gave me something else to do.  Make some sewing repairs to her lingerie then iron it.  Naturally, I had to start it immediately.

I wanted to cry again.  It was far too much for me to finish quickly – and then her friends started to come by for her sleepover.  Both mummy and Dallas giggled when they made me answer the door in my apron – then "in fun" asked me to greet the guests with pretty curtseys.  She had two type of friends.  The rough, tough, ones like her and the soft, clingy, girls who fluttered around the tougher ones.  The tough ones sneered at the sissy.  The girly ones all giggled and said how cute I was.  They all looked askance as Dallas would send me back to sew her lingerie, then iron it.  She made a great show of examining everything I did.

Then one of the girly girls said that my fingernails looked nice – but certainly not suitable for fine lingerie.  Dallas, mummy, and her tough friends all laughed as the feminine girls all crowded around me, then filed and polished my nails a deep crimson, despite my weak attempts to break away.

Now, I was being openly addressed as Philippa – the sissy - with Dallas 'suggesting' that – maybe – I should wear a dress!  One of the girly-girls had called to say she couldn't make it and one of her 'tougher' friends wanted a dance partner.  Wouldn't I be the PERFECT fill in – if I was just dressed properly?

Then Mummy broke in. "Remember that pink party dress I bought for you – and you didn't like it – said it was TOO feminine, and they wouldn't take it back because I bought it on sale?  I bet that Philippa is almost a perfect fit!"

"Please mummy?" I pleaded.

"Would you just listen to HER?" She giggled. "A grown boy objecting to wearing a pretty dress, because he doesn't have the proper lingerie?"  She smiled at me.  "I'll just bet that Dallas wouldn't object to lending you some of hers!  After all – you'd be doing HER a favor!"

The tough girls all laughed at this then turned me over to the girly girls.  A little while later, I was introduced back, now in a frilly pink party dress, with a peroxide wig and fully made up.  They even mocked at my antics in the high heeled shoes I wore.  Agreed that there was no way that you could EVER tell that I was a boy and took a great delight in lifting my crinolines to show off my satin panties and stockings.

I heard the door bell chiming but was being danced by Dallas's friend at the time and, as no one seemed to expect me to answer the door, stayed in the embrace of my partner.

Then, mummy was there – with Andrew.  "Philippa?"  She called out.  "Andrew, your date for the night is here for you to go and stay at his place.  You ready?"

I saw Andrew look at me in my dress.  Held in the arms of a tough girl, her hand up under my dress, and my lipstick and makeup all smeared from my being kissed. I saw the horror in his eyes and the wonder at how he could get out of this feminine mess.  Knew what I had to do.

"I'm sorry Andrew."  I managed weakly.  "Dallas asked if I would help out with the party and I hated to deny her.

"That's okay!" He gulped.  "Gotta go!"

"Wouldn't you like to stay?" Mummy cooed.  "I'm sure that Dallas wouldn't mind having another boy at her party?"

"Yeah!"  Dallas laughed.  "Maybe you'd like to dance with Philippa?  Or maybe join her in a nice dress?"

"Aaaargh!"  Andrew let out a garbled noise.  "I HAVE to go!  See you Philip!"

"PHILIPPA!" Mummy corrected him.  "That's his name now.  Philippa has been SO nice.  Going to stay and keep ME company after high school while that old tomboy of mine Dallas, goes off to college.  Isn't that nice?  But if you're SURE you don't want to stay?  Dallas has got some lovely nightwear for Philippa, and I'm SURE she wouldn't mind sharing?"

She laughed uproariously as Andrew pulled out of her grasp and fled out of the door.  Smiled at me. "Somehow?  Boys don't seem to like being treated like girls.  But YOU don't mind – do you Philippa? Just wait until you see the gorgeous nightgown that Dallas has for you when you sleepover with her and the other girls!"

"Yessssss!" Dallas laughed.

 

 

The End

 

Y'all Are Brutalizing Me

A year ago this month, I wrote a blog post about the deviantART page that I created twelve years ago for posting my feminization art and how it had, a few months earlier, suddenly been threatened with termination unless I removed certain mature artwork from my gallery that contained characters who were underage.  Although I can't begrudge the site for not wanting any adult content featuring persons under 18, I can't say I was happy, especially since they unhelpfully refused to clarify which drawings needed to be removed, causing me to exercise what was perhaps an overabundance of caution and purge a number of drawings that I think were quite tame.  I wouldn't even call most of those pics erotica, though I may have muddied the issue somewhat by posting erotic artwork alongside non-erotic pics.