Saturday, August 14, 2021

Candi Squeeze

The music industry is a hard mistress!

A way to get my foot in the music door.  That’s the way they sold me on the contract.  It was a simple contract, especially for such a big label.  Anything that could further your career, you did.  And by ‘further your career’ we all knew that meant make money for the label.  So, I started as a sound producer.  So low level that I didn’t even get credit on liner notes.  But I moved up and got use of the studio.  If I’d have know the system automatically records everything without any user option to delete, I might have just taken the raw audio and messed around with it at home, but I didn’t know so I didn’t do that.  Instead I took the song I’d written and sang and messed around with the auto tune.

My voice wasn’t naturally feminine, but it wasn’t overly masculine either.  It didn’t take much pushing and tweaking to give me the voice of a femme pop star.  Honestly, all I was doing was trying to get one of the produces to get one of their starlets to record my music.  Something they could use to fill out their album.  Being pulled into the VPs office was scary.  It got a lot scary when he started interrogating me about the song I’d made.  It got even scarier when he played it with the full works.  Instrumentation, a pounding beat, back up singers.  They’d produced my song… but it was still me singing it. 

I tried to explain that I wasn’t a singer.  That I couldn’t possibly have that released, but they just pointed at my contract.  Anything that could further my career.  It just turns out they weren’t interested in my career as a producer or songwriter.  They were interested in my career as a female pop star.  They didn’t spare any expense at making me over.  Hair removal, hair extensions, makeup, big breast forms.  After a couple hours I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror.  And then the photographer got to work.  He was going for a ‘girl next door’ vibe and he nailed it.  It probably helped that my nerves came across as nativity. 

It took a few weeks, but it felt like I was hearing my song on the radio overnight.  Streams started pouring out.  I was fully on board with being a one hit wonder.  Sure, my share of the money was tiny with almost everything going to the studio and without the ability to put on a show or go on tour, I’d never be able to really capitalize on the shining moment… but I was happy trading all that in by not progressing more with this ‘Candi Squeeze’ persona they made me.  And then it happened.  My song was sold for use with a movie trailer.  The studio saw dollar signs and I saw an extension of my contract.  I don’t know how this legal stuff works but evidently by not signing this longer stricter contract I wouldn’t’ be furthering my career and by extension breaking my original contract.  Sign or get sued. 

I wanted to be the guy writing song for starlets.  Now I was the starlet singing songs written by others.  I sang about my boyfriend.  I sang about my gal pals.  I sang about the rain and I sang about being sad.  My album dropped in the top 100 and started rising up fast.  My new manager, who had no desire to talk to Carl and always referred to me as Candi, insisted that I had to go out and be seen.  Back into the makeup trailer I went and hours later I came out as Candi Squeeze.  My makeup was more glam, my hair was more styled, my clothes were clingier over the curves produced by the body forms glued to my chest, ass, and hips.  My feet were squeezed into some short heels, but they were still enough to make me walk slow and deliberately.  Candi falling down while walking the red carpet just wouldn’t do. 

I don’t know if the label set it up or not but it feels like something they’d do.  I mean, who doesn’t love a good juicy celebrity hookup?  Ace Quest, star of the movie who’s premier we were at, pulled me into a shoot in front of the paparazzi.  I had to sit there and smile as they snapped and snapped and snapped.  When he looked down and wiggled his eyebrows I wanted to back away but he pulled me in and gave the photographers exactly what they were looking for.  Sure, I was giving him every signal that I wanted to be kissed, but then again I couldn’t’ feel his hand on squeezing and kneading my fake ass.  And he was a master of manipulating the photos so I had to bear his tongue being shoved into my mouth for a full minutes.  Plenty of time to get photos of the new ‘hot couple’ as the celebrity rags called us. 

With my song singing high over the big action scene staring Ace, it was natural for everybody to put two and two and two together and assume we’d been seeing each other for longer than Candi was real.  The label, of course, wanted to play that up and demanded that I go out with him.  We went to other movie premiers.  We went to Broadway shows.  We went to basketball games.  We went to club openings.  The label, covering every base possible, hired coaches for me on pop star etiquette.  Or girly girl 101 as I started to think of them.  And then there were the manipulations.  Maybe I should have balked at the lip plumping session which gave me “incredibly kissable lips” as one tabloid put it… and “cock sucker lips” as another put it.  If I’d balked at that, I might have had a leg to stand on when putting up more fights.  But lip plumping lead to Botox giving my face a truly more feminine shape. No more hiding behind makeup and my hair.  The Botox lead to an outpatient surgery to reduce the size of my Adam’s apple.  

I finally put up a real fight over the surgeries, but my outside lawyer insisted the contract was ironclad.  Refusing would be breaking it and breaking it would mean owing the label for future loss of profit.  And at this point Candi Squeeze was an ATM for them.  I’d owe them millions to NOT get breast and ass enhancements.  I did get them to agree to leave my masculinity intact… something they really wanted to surgically get rid of… but I had to agree to wearing some realistic gaff.  This faux pussy was glued into place each week while my testes were pushed into me and my junk was pulled back.  It was frustrating seeing myself with a sexy face, big tits, curvy hips, and a jiggly ass when I looked in the mirror.  It was worse when I realized it made me horny AND that it held me so tight that I couldn’t get hard.  I was stuck in a constant state of arousal with no way to get rid of it. 

Once all the procedures were done… or as the rags reported it, once my mysterious vacation was over… I hooked up with Ace again.  I thought it would be more of the same, but while I knew he was touching me before, I hadn’t actually felt it.  Now he wasn’t cupping some silicone blob on my chest, he was cupping my tits.  Now he wasn’t swatting and petting some rubber set cushion behind me, he was spanking and caressing my ass.  And it felt good.  Sinfully good.  Getting felt up by some scruffy haired buy shouldn’t feel good, but my moans were the proof.  Those moans must have sounded like honeyed butter to Ace as he just upped his game and worked on me harder.  Which made me moan more…this time right into his kissing mouth.  Which made him work harder.  By the time the photographer got his photo, who knew how he got into the exclusive club, I was so worked up that I never even knew it.  The picture didn’t make it to the rags this time.  Instead it was the front page of TMZ. 

And who could blame them.  Seeing me pinned up against the wall, Ace holding my arms above my head, his hand gripping my ass and pulling me into him while his thigh pushed in between my legs was just damned sexy.  And it felt sexier than it looked.  I’d love to think Ace didn’t’ know his petting, kissing, and grinding actually got me off, but he knew.  He was walking on cloud nine the rest of the night and even higher when he realized the photo was probably taken at the very moment I orgasmed.  The stud actor conquering the pop idol was good press.  Both for him and for me, at least according to my manager.  Up until that point I was able to balance the labels demands for sex appeal with my desire to be a ‘girl next door’.  Now that went out the window and we went full on sensuality. 

My appeal was across genres and groups.   The girls wanted to be a star like me.  The guys wanted to fuck me.  Of course the controversy of the photos ‘leaked’ online made sure that no guy would ever see me as anything other than a sex object.  I thought the label was just offering up another girly girl tutor, this time on dating.  And maybe that’s all it was, but this Casanova for hire did more than give me lessons.  He gave me practicals.  Given the choice of going down on him or having him take my ass, I chose the former.  And those are the photos that made it to the seedier side of the internet.  While I tried to get over the fact that I now really did have “Cock Sucker” lips, the label fought legal fight after legal fight to get the photos taken down.  I knew the lawsuits were all for show and had the unfortunate affect of letting everybody know they were really me. 

While the label made money over my notoriety, Ace tripled his efforts to have me.  My protests of not being ‘that kind of girl’ were ringing hollow.   I considered letting the ass hat leave me as he threatened to do if I didn’t go down on him, but my manager had already let it be known that I had to keep this relationship going.  Ace traveled with me on the tour I never thought I’d get to have and on those four months I got to know his cock better than my own.  It was probably around Thanksgiving time when we had some time off in Chicago that I actually wished the dating lessons had continued.  That’s when Ace took my virginity.  Took my ass.  And as humiliating and soul crushing as it is to admit it, I can’t deny when he really doubles down and fucks my ass hard… I can cum too. 

Now as my, or Candi’s as I still try to think of it, second album is about to drop I wonder if there will ever be any going back.  My latest contract is for four albums and has the option to co-star in a movie.  My new agent promises me that a small role could lead to my own film.  Ace’s proposal to me was actually broadcast since he did it at a Brooklyn Nets game.  Everybody thought my tears were of joy and the label was excstatic as they hadn’t planned this move.  They couldn’t know that Ace had found out my secret when he tried to forcibly fuck my fake pussy.  Now I was legally stuck by the label and blackmailed by my fiancĂ©.  It seems having a girlfriend like me is good for his career.  Having a slutty girlfriend is good for his ego too as I’ve learned by sucking off most of his friends. 

I got a job with this label to get my foot in the door. That door is behind me now.  Locked.  I’ll never be some second-rate producer.  I’m afraid that I’ll forever be Candi Squeeze. 

source:  Discord server


  1. Fantastic story! The music industry is such a ripe avenue and this tale was awesome!

    1. Thanks Vanilla! I agree, the music industry is ripe for stories, especially with the advent and widespread acceptance of autotuned singers. The 'less than feminine voice' problem can be fixed with a real life solution leaving just the transformation itself to the fantasy/sci-fi realm.

  2. I cannot wait to see the movie. Sci-fi or rom-com?