TG/TF captions by Alix
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Sunday, December 1, 2013
"Amsterdam" - When celebrating his 18th birthday with his friends in Amsterdam, a young man is kidnapped and has his life changed forever. (Six-part caption series)
Alix's Explicit Collection has moved to a new location! As I mentioned before, if you have viewed the collection before, just send me an email (from the same address as before) and I will provide you with the new location. Unfortunately I can't get the gallery to sort them all in the proper order, but they're all there.
As for the rest of you- check them out! I'm adding more all the time, and the Paypal button should direct you to them automatically. If for some reason it does not, feel free to email me and I will help.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
As many of you may have noticed, Photobucket has decided to remove ALL of my captions from my collection. My guess is they won't be back, so that's pretty frustrating. I'm currently looking into another host and I will move them all to that location when I have it. Obviously I won't be able to just email all of you, but if you've been given access in the past (which I'll confirm) just send me an email and I will provide you with the new info immediately.
Plus, more are on the way! So just hang tight, I'll get it back up soon. Thanks!
Plus, more are on the way! So just hang tight, I'll get it back up soon. Thanks!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
For a long time I've led a relatively isolated life. Just a quiet guy, keeping mostly to myself. My fetish for women's clothing, particularly high heels, has never really caused me any problems- but I always knew it was only a matter of time before it did.
My accounting firm recently acquired a new account, Heels.com, which didn't necessarily grab my attention- until they commissioned me to manage the account. Allegedly their books were a mess, and they needed a CPA to come out and re-assess their balance sheet. The job included a thorough evaluation of their current and long-term liabilities, as well as their current assets- chiefly, their inventory. A warehouse full of high heels. I knew it was going to be my own personal island of temptation. I was right.
When I first arrived I was somewhat disappointed. The staff weren't the tall, sexy models wearing stilettos like I had imagined, but everday office people in khakis and plaid shirts. I should have figured. But my expectations were quickly restored when they brought me to their storage warehouse- a massive barn full of shoeboxes, containing nearly every high heel in every brand imaginable. Thousands. Tens of thousands, even. I only needed to count the palettes- but I explained to them that it still might take me a while to 'cross reference it with my existing data'. Total bull. I just wanted to buy myself some alone-time in there.
I waited until the end of the day to return to the warehouse. I wanted to be the last one there so that I wouldn't be interrupted while I was... appraising their inventory. It was perfect- just myself and a warehouse full of heels. I was in heaven. And that was when a very stupid idea occurred to me.
No one was around. I was there to count. What better opportunity was there to report a few orders... missing? I could easily steal a few pairs for myself, and no one would ever know. And that's what I did. I counted the palettes, occasionally pulling out a sexy pair of size 10 heels from the middle of it, and moved the other boxes around so that no one would notice. They could blame the wholesaler. And I got to leave with five pairs of high heels that no one saw. Or at least that was what I thought.
The next day I received a phone call from their office manager requesting me to return to their office for a summary, even though I had already emailed it to him the previous night. None the wiser, I agreed and returned to their site, where I was escorted back to the office manager's room. I was asked to have a seat, and the door was closed behind me. That was when the proverbial shit hit the fan.
He told me that their security cameras had seen me rummaging through the palettes, pulling out boxes of high heels and then leaving with them. I felt all the blood in my body rush into my face. I had never been so embarrased. I tried to confess and apologize, but the manager wasn't having any of it. He told me he fully intended to press charges against me and my firm for stealing from their company.
Aside from being humiliated, I was terrified. My career would be over. No one would ever hire me again. My life began to flash before my eyes- and I'm pretty sure I was tearing up. I couldn't believe what I had done. It wasn't until then that the manager asked me if I would be willing to do anything in order to avoid being accused of theft. A wave of relief flew over me and I shook my head vigorously. Anything. I would do anything to avoid that.
But I didn't expect this.
He told me their website was launching a new widget for their website- a video of every shoe being modeled for customers to watch. He said they would need to pay models to show them off- all nine thousand different pairs. He told me I could do it instead. Off the books. For free.
I couldn't believe the offer. Was he being serious? It seemed like he was. Apprehensively I said yes, waiting for him to laugh in my face. But he didn't. He simply nodded his head, and told me to be there at 7 AM the next morning, a Saturday. We were to shoot all day, and begin at 7 again the next day. Trying to register all of this, I asked him if it would really take that long. At this he just laughed. He told me I was a math person, and asked me how long I thought it would take to put on, walk around in, and take off nine thousand different pairs of high heel. I told him I didn't know. Neither did he.
My shame hit a new high when I arrived the next morning, bright and early, and introduced myself to the three members of the camera crew, three men, no less, explaining what I had done and why I was there instead of a woman. They told me they already knew, and instructed me to have a seat so that they could shave my legs and paint my toes. That part hadn't even ocurred to me. I was obligated to comply.
I could see the two younger men trying to hold back laughter as the hair was shaved off my legs. I was so humiliated. Still, it was better than being in prison, not throwing away my career. By a slim margin.
Then the filming began. A dozen or so shoe boxes were brought in, and I was instructed to put on the first pair on top. I was nervous- I had never done this in front of anyone before, and there I was, putting on high heels to be filmed on camera. Once on my feet, they had me walk back and forth in front of the camera ten times, maybe twenty- however long it took me to do the stopping and spinning motions "just right". Every heel was different, yet they wanted "the same walk" for each one. It was impossible.
After half an hour that first morning, my feet were already hurting. I remember peering over to see how many shoes I had completed- thirteen. Thirteen. The camera man snickered, telling me how much this would have cost the company if I was an actual model. What appeared as a crossdresser's dream quickly became a nightmare as I paced around for hours, my feet burning, only to watch as a fresh dozen pairs be brought in for me to wear next. I knew I would never look at high heels the same way again.
...And I haven't. My indentured servitute to Heels.com began nearly ten weeks ago, and I still don't know how many more I have to do. The company told my accounting firm they were "borrowing" me for the forseeable future as a "consultant", holding up their end of the deal, just as I have held up mine- walking back and forth in painful high heels all day, every day. All for some stupid website feature.
I don't know how much longer this will go on. The new heels to film come in endlessly, and I swear I've done many of them already. I can barely flatten my feet anymore. But I know what they'll do to me if I don't show up one morning. Maybe they're leveraging me to be their high heel model forever?
This is their website. As you'll see, many of the heels have a walking video prominently displayed, where you'll see me pacing back and forth like a monkey whose livlihood is at stake. Those that don't have videos will soon, I'm sure. There are always more heels, it seems. I'm beginning to think they knew that from the start.
I just want my old life back. Hopefully before my feet are so damaged that I'll have to wear high heels forever.