By: Wendy
May I submissively beg the attention of all voluptuously masterful
Mistresses, exquisitely dominant Dominatrixes, less than tolerant
superior Wives, beautiful proud Women of all ages, and groveling,
misbegotten mistakes of manhood who are lower than low and bound to be
known as supercilious Sissies for all time.
My loving, caring, charming Mistress has commanded me to announce the
availability for immediate sale and delivery, the product you have all
been hungering for. (Well, maybe not the Sissies.)
After strenuous testing (on me) and many extremely painful (to me)
trials and errors in construction (by me), at last my Mistress is proud
to present the SISSIFIER XL 7000!
Mistress demands that I humbly describe this wondrous machine and it's
many many painful, humiliating, and degrading features.
Allow me, Worshipful Women, to explain and describe this remarkable
machine to you.
The SISSIFIER XL 7000 comes in two intimidating parts.
1. The Base and Head Compartment Unit.
2. The Application Unit.
Picture, Ladies, if you would be so kind, a stainless steel base,
somewhat similar to a restroom commode, resting on a four foot square
stainless steel platform which rises about five inches off the floor..
The stainless steel seat is oval like a toilet seat with the same oval
hole in the seat as you would picture. But the seat is covered with 120
sturdy hard rubber pegs, about 3/4 inch high and the diameter of a
pencil eraser, spaced about 3/4 inch apart, all over the seat. The seat
hangs out over the base as does a toilet seat. On the base platform are
leather bondage straps at toe level and on the front of the base are
leather bondage straps at upper ankle level.
Built into the stainless steel bowl of the base, allowing for
protrusion up through the oval hole of the seat is a hydraulically
dynamic powered vibrating ceramic dildo which is capable of not just
penetrating and vibrating but also thrusting at low and high levels, of
both pressure and speed. Looks like a head of a snake, poking it's
dangerous head out of the bowl of the base. The SISSIFIER XL 7000 comes
with three interchangeable dildos. One is smooth ceramic. One is
stainless steel with spiraling ridges. The third is hard rubber with
small bumps all over.
Mistress gets her choice. The Sissy does not.
At the back of the base rises a stainless steel back column at a 70
degree angle out from the base. The back column also is wickedly tricked
out with the same hard rubber nubs which are on the seat. It is about
three feet high, which would be about the top of the occupant's back.
This allows the occupant's head to be unsupported. There are bondage
straps at lower stomach level and at just below the bust line. Coming
out, at an angle, as arms from this column are two, three feet long,
stainless steel arm pieces which have bondage straps on both arms at
wrist level and at bicep level. The same hard rubber pegs are also on
the arm pieces. When installed in position the occupant is spread out
totally and exposed to whatever his mistress desires. The addition of
the rubber nubs gives no chance for the occupant to have any painless
support to any part of his torso and arms.
Coming out from the back of the column and then rising above what would
be the head level of the occupant, is a large, frightening, extra
powerful stainless steel torpedo style salon hair dryer. The dryer's
helmet is positioned to be lowered completely onto the head of the
occupant. The dryer does have a neat special feature. Around the head
opening of the dryer helmet is a Lycra vinyl shield which can surround
the rollered head of the occupant and can be pulled to a sealing
tightness with elastic draw strings which will allow very little heat to
escape the helmet of the dryer. This is not your Grandmother's hair
dryer.
That completes the description of the Base and Head Compartment Unit.
I will now describe the Application Unit.
The Application Unit is maneuverable and rises in front of and over top
of the occupant of the aforementioned Base Unit. The Application Unit is
powered by a large motor and a high capacity compressor. From the
Application Unit, at about the level of the occupant's groin, a wide
diameter suction hose with an attached eight inch long vacuum sheath
extends for four feet. This attachment resembles quite closely a high
volume professional dairy udder teat milker.
At the level of the occupant's chest are two suction hoses with their
attachments of 5 inch diameter ceramic suction cups with rubber rims for
total sealing. Inside the cups are nipple clamps which can be attached
to the nipples and pulled to any desired pressure and length by a turn
of a dial.
At about the level of the occupant's face, there is a large suction hose
with a suction device of a rectangular shaped three inch long sheath.
At the level of the occupant's nose there is a small hose from the
Application Unit with nose oxygen nodules for delivery of gaseous
humiliations.
All together the two units present a rather formidable device, designed
to instill fear and awe in those who are chosen or desire to become one
of the "occupants"
Mistress now desires that I inform you how the machine is best used for
it's intended purposes of and humiliation and punishment.
For best results, please use this method:
(I have been through this method and can guarantee it's effectiveness)
(Mistress laughs)
The Sissy, for that's what we are dealing with here, should be told to
remove whatever form fitting sundress or wet diaper he may be wearing
and to stand quivering, naked without even a bra to cover his shame. He
should assume the posture all sissies are taught, by having his wrists
limp at the level of his breasts.
The Sissy is then instructed to put on the 4 inch high heeled black
patent leather stiletto pumps which come with the SISSIFIER XL 7000.
Thigh-high sheer Midnight Black hose are optional but very lovely. If
you have a newbie sissy, then white cotton anklets, with little silver
bells, are suitable.
The Sissy, wearing only the pumps, is to proceed to the professional
beauty salon in your home (you all have one, don't you?) and then beg to
have his hair washed and then rolled wet on medium steel prickly brush
rollers. Rolled very tightly. The rollers must prick the scalp. At least
30 rollers should be used both for maximum curl and maximum tightness
and uncomfortability. And they look really cute on a prissy guy.
The Sissy is then told to sit at the make up vanity. He is told to apply
very heavy black eyeliner and black lash extending mascara and brush his
plucked brows into a startled configuration. His eye shadow (deep blues
and lavenders) is to be applied as if he were trying out for the role of
Cleopatra at a transvestite nightclub. His lips must be perfect. Crimson
lipstick, topped off with a scarlet lipgloss containing highlights of
gold sparkles is the preferred prescription. The sissy is to form a high
bow on the upper lip and apply womanly fullness on the lower. Three
applications are the sissy norm. Be sure he kisses the open shaft of the
tube of feminine perfection before each precise application.
The SISSIFIER XL 7000 supplies to each customer a special pair of
earrings for use in conjunction with the preparation of the occupant.
After application of his make up comes the time for the sissy to fasten
on his new earrings. These lovely earrings are a 1-1/2 inch diameter
silver heart, hanging from a three inch mesh silver chain, for pierced
ears of course. The stud is stainless steel with a small ruby on the tip
of the stud. The heart is sterling silver, plated over 8 ounces of base
lead. They look divine, and are intrinsically evil. Ask the occupant
after about ten minutes of these earrings swinging from his tender
earlobes. Poor dear.
He is now ready to face the SISSIFIER XL 7000.
The Sissy, with his rollered hair still wet and rolled tightly, is told
to position himself, painted face out, standing on the steel platform at
the base of the SISSIFIER XL 7000. The back of his 4 inch heels should
be touching the front of the pedestal of the base. The Toe straps will
then be secured, binding his toes to the stainless steel floor platform
of the SISSIFIER XL 7000 and then the high ankle straps will be fastened
tightly to the base. His feet will now be immobile and several inches
back behind the outcrop of the seat. It will be very difficult for the
occupant to stand in this position for any length of time.
The Sissy will now be instructed to slowly lower himself part way down,
over the oval opening in the seat, holding his butt cheeks separated by
the use of both hands. It is very hard to maintain this position. Some
training may be needed before installing the occupant in the SISSIFIER
XL 7000. At this time hydraulic dildo will be electrically extended and
insertion will take place into the sissy's inadequate vagina. Some pain
may occur. Good. The sissy standing in this half down position while
being penetrated will provided a lot of laughs. It may take two or three
aimings to achieve initial, medium to deep, penetration.
The Sissy, after initial penetration, will immediately be told to sit
down HARD on the base seat.
As a result of this action the dildo will make it's final adjustment
within the pussy's pussy. Sitting down hard on the dildo will ensure
maximum penetration. This may provoke a gasp and a cry from the
occupant. Look for some blood leakage.
The sissy will now have put his full weight on the hard rubber nodules
which cover the seat. The hard rubber nodules do not like to be sat
upon.
These will fight back, with a vengeance. The sissy will know that he is
in a fight. The sissy will not win.
(Let me say at this time that for the most benefit and satisfaction, a
circle of four or five SISSIFIER XL 7000's, with their would-be
occupiers standing at attention at their machine's side, allows the
unwilling participants to view what is to happen to them and to hear the
lovely groans and whimpers coming from each sissy as they are installed
in the SISSIFIER XL 7000.)
The Sissy will now struggle against the dildo and the terrible pain of
the hard rubber nodules trying to pierce his buttock.
The Sissy will now be pushed back against the 70 degree slanted back
structure. By being placed on the slanted back column, the occupant will
be placing even more pressure on his butt cheeks. The rubber pegs will
press into the skin even further. The occupant will now have the stomach
and underbust straps securely tightened and also the four wrist and arm
straps will pin the occupant firmly to the SISSIFIER XL 7000. The
restraint straps being tightened will, of course force the occupant to
tightly encounter the hard rubber pegs on the back column and the arm
supports. Sissies are meant to be secured, usually by the harshest means
possible. They really like it.
The Sissy will now feel the imagined weight of the Stainless steel
torpedo salon dryer being lowered over his rollered head. What a fearful
sight. Because the occupant is now positioned on the slanted back column
with his head unsupported, he will have to keep his head pitched
somewhat foreword in order to allow the dryer helmet to position itself
properly on his rollered head. The insides of the helmet will naturally
brush against the prickly rollers on the sissy's head. Until it is
positioned correctly, and it will never be because the occupant is
constantly struggling to keep his head in the proper position, the sissy
will experience a great deal of scalp pain.The Lyrca vinyl shield will
be snuggly secured across his forehead and over his ears and around the
base of his lower neck in the back, below the last row of curlers. By
having the heat trapped inside the hood of the dryer by the shield, the
temperature within the helmet will be several times what a woman endures
for her beauty regimen in a professional salon. But this isn't a woman,
heaven forbid, this is just a sissy. (BTW, if Mistress happens to know a
woman who just might enjoy being an occupant in the SISSIFIER XL 7000,
it is an equal opportunity machine.)
The Sissy, as he is secured, naked, will now see the Application Unit
rolled into position at whatever desired distance the operator desires
for maximum efficiency and desired discomfort of the sissy occupant. It
will be a frightening sight for the sissy to see. And the sissy can not
move. He can not stop anything from being done to him. Oh! The joy of
being a sissy! Even better to be a Mistress.
The Sissy, to warm him up for his coming ordeal, will now have the
vibrating dildo activated by the operator. The motion of the vibration
will enhance the pain from the rubber nodules attacking his miserable
soft sissy butt. This procedure will allow the sissy to cultivate a
sensitive rump to handle any kind of forced or unforced penetration with
the knowledge that significant pain may be involved. While the sissy is
digesting this activity, the operator will apply the suction sheath of
the lower vacuum hose to the miserably limp useless appendage the sissy
has no need for. The operator does have a need. Milking can be fun for
the operator and humiliating and painful for the sissy. Also the milking
will prepare the sissy for the sissy to sissy sucking which is sure to
happen shortly.
The Sissy, while gazing down at what is happening to his weewee, will
now see the operator take one of the chest high appliances and attach
the interior nipple clamp to the right nipple and then turn the dial to
reach optimum pull. The operator may have to adjust the nipple clamps
several times to achieve the best hold on the nipple. The nipple clamp
may even be pulled off in the pulling procedure. This is normal and for
the occupant very painful. Don't worry about it. The operator will then
affix the 5 inch suction cups over the right breast. The procedure will
be repeated for the left breast. Some breast tissue nay have to be
manually situated within the globe of the suction cup for maximum seal
of the cup. And for maximum enlargement and sensitivity. The ceramic
suction cups are designed to use suction energy to pull and attract
fatty tissue which may be collecting near the area of the sissy's
cupcakes. The cups are at times painful but effective. By having the
nipple clamps being pulled at optimum strength and distance, the suction
cups have created space within the mammary gland into which they can
deposit excess fatty tissue. The sissy will not like this procedure. But
it does wonders for his figure.
The Sissy, while moaning at the pain of the nipple clamps and the
vibration of the dildo and the prickliness of the rubber nodules , will
see the operator bring a plastic funnel device (incl. with the SISSIFIER
XL 7000) with a very wide opening on each end, up to the sissy's
lipsticked mouth. The funnel will be inserted in the mouth and the
operator will use a forceps to bring the tongue through the funnel as
far as possible. It might be a good idea to use a heavy forceps and
leave them hanging attached to the tongue for a little while. Just for
fun. The flat rectangular sheath suction appliance will then be secured
over the tongue.
The Sissy, with shadowed eyes wide open, will now feel and see the
operator insert the seemingly innocuous oxygen delivery system into his
nose.
(Think of the other sissies standing next to their own SISSIFIER XL
7000's. What will they be thinking and feeling? And who cares!)
The Sissy will now be allowed to remain secured as calmly as possible in
this situation so that he can come to the realization that, other than
the vibrating dildo, NOTHING else on the horrible machine has yet been
turned on. He can imagine what lies in store for him in the very near
future. Sweat tends to flow copiously at this time.
The Sissy wants to move his feet to relieve the tension. With the seat
protruding from the front of the base, the knees are thrust forward with
the feet being locked back under at the base, with the added pain of the
heel rising four inches above the secured toes. It is possible the
sissy's legs will cramp. it is probable that he will not be able to walk
for a few hours after each session. That would be a good time to have
the wuss lick all your boots sparkling clean.
The Sissy is now terrified.
The Operator, at her leisure, can now commence flipping switches and
turning dials. Please do not rush. Be patient. The sissy isn't going
anywhere. His pain and humiliation are your joy and fun. Savor it. Enjoy
it. Control it. Use it. Tale it slowly. Each new torment allows him to
think that their are still other, worse, torments still to come.
Flip - The dryer roars into action. The temperature setting is very
high. The baking of those steel rollers has started. The occupant knows
that those rollers and the tremendous heat are baking luxurious curls
into his sissy hair. I am sure this is the only thing he has to look
forward to at this time. It is possible that at some point before the
session is over you may notice a slight smell of singed hair. Don't be
upset. It can't hurt you.
Switch - The dildo stops vibrating for the moment but now starts to
begin slow in and out thrusts of the dildo into the virgin pussy. In ten
minutes the vibrating function will also join in. (The dildo does have a
interior delivery system for lubricating gel. The longer he can take it,
the better.)
The dildo control does allow for depth of penetration and frequency of
thrust. Try several settings to define Mistress' best enjoyment.
Flip - The air flow tubes will now deliver a mixed perfume of human
excrement and baby throw up and two day old cigar butt. It is hard to
imagine how any one could toss their cookies while wearing the tongue
sheath and the mouth funnel, but you better be prepared.
Switch Right - The Sissy's right breast will be subjected to pulsating
vacuum sucking actions with the nipple clamp, at full extension, doing
quarter turns on the no vacuum cycle. The circular breasts cups will
cause soreness in the stretching skin of the man boobs. After 15 minutes
slight bleeding may occur at the edges of vacuum cups. But think how
much the sissy will enjoy the cool feel of his silk bra cups later in
the day. When he is done in the SISSIFIER XL 7000, his sensitive breasts
will stand up proud even with the slight touch of frilly silk.
Switch Left - The Sissy can't have one breast larger than the other,
right?
(BTW the nipple clamp quarter turn function does allow for settings
which would allow a full 3/4 turn at random intervals. Just to make it
interesting for the occupant.)
Note: An upgraded version of the SISSIFIER XL 7000 does contain an X-ray
viewing feature which allows the Mistress to see the interior action of
both the hydraulic dildo and of the breast enlarging suction cups.
This feature is very satisfying for the Mistress and worth the extra
cost.
Toggle - The tongue sheath sucks and sucks and sucks on that disgusting
sissy tongue. The sissy will have a much longer tongue to satisfy his
Mistress after a few sessions on the SISSIFIER XL 7000.
Flip - The best for last. The Milker repeatedly does it's function.
Whether the little wee wee can handle a man's job or not, it does not
matter. Milk is what is important. It is what a sissy is made for. And,
obviously, the more milk the sissy produces, the more sissies will be
able to drink it.
By this time a few of the other would-be occupants will have passed out.
Scrap them up off the floor and start getting them ready for their fun.
You have plenty of rollers and lipstick. As it comes time for each one
to be shampooed and rollered, be sure that they pass the occupant on
their way to the hair wash basin. As they pass they occupant they should
be encouraged to place their painted acrylic nailed hands on the
occupant's breast suction cups. They usually scream when they feel the
power emanating from those suckers.
Mistress recommends not more than one half hour for the first session
with the SISSIFIER XL 7000. Or if you don't give a damn, do whatever you
want. They are only Sissies.
Picture the sissy in the SISSIFIER XL 7000.
His lipsticked mouth wrapped around the plastic funnel and his tongue
being sucked out of his head. And he is unable to make a sound.
His breasts being enlarged and sensitized for your pleasure and his
humiliation.
His nose cringing at the vile stink which sissies must be able to
endure.
His feminine shadowed eyes wide open in pain and humiliation. Maybe a
tear trying to ruin his mascara.
His milk running into the crystal collection jug at the base of the
milker.
His vagina being enlarged in width and depth for future use and for his
humiliation.
His feminine butt cheeks, raw and sore, ready to take any type of
pressure his "dating sessions" may provide.
If you had a SISSIFIER XL 7000 you could have the pleasure of seeing
this sight anytime you wanted. That's what Sissies are for and that is
why my Mistress designed the SISSIFIER XL 7000. For your pleasure, your
great pleasure.
I think it is important to mention that any device which is part of the
SISSIFIER XL 7000 can be applied to the sissy singly without the
Mistress having to use her valuable time installing the sissy into all
the devices.
The Mistress may wish the poor sissy fellow to have an intensive bust
enhancement regimen prior to the sissy's fitting for a strapless
cocktail dress, or maybe he needs to be especially provocative in a form
fitting gold lame' evening gown or, possibly, last year he was not quite
into proper curvaceous form in his Lycra spandex one piece bandeau swim
ensemble.
The Mistress may have need of a series of dryer punishments. Or the new
sissy may have to be schooled under the dryer in the proper etiquette
and postures necessary when in the company of genuine women under hair
dryers prior to his first visit to Madame's own neighborhood salon.
Madame can not be embarrassed by a sissy who is afraid of a salon dryer.
Since the sissy will be spending a great deal of time in Beauty Salons,
becoming as beautiful as a sissy can be, he must be totally trained by
use of dryer punishments.
The Mistress may want to utilize the hydraulic dildo to ensure the sissy
has an adequate opening radius in his vagina before the sissy has his
first "date" with a manly man. Though tightness can be beneficial also.
Oh, the decisions!
The Mistress will want to ensure that there is always a large supply of
sissy milk on hand for feeding purposes. That attachment will harvest
large quantities of the sissy's fluids whenever she may desire. Sissies
can not be feed too much Sissy Milk. Picture any sissy you know with a
milk mustache like in the "We got milk" ads in Vogue and Allure.
Mix and match. There are unlimited varieties to the torment and pain and
humiliation you can subject your little sissy boytoy to at any time you
desire.
Mistresses have been known to install the terrified sissy at bedtime
into the SISSIFIER XL 7000 and set the machine for intermittent
servicing all through the night. The sissy in the morning will be
prepared just as you desire and deserve. Something like a crockpot.
Please get your orders in as soon as possible. As more orders pour in we
will find more sissies for testing and quality-control purposes. That
will take a lot of pressure off me.
Thank You,
Sissy Wendy
PS. If you would like to apply for a job as a tester and quality control
person for the SISSIFIER XL 7000, please send me your name and address
and bra size.
31 October 2010
17 October 2010
PILLOW TALK
By Bea
"What a wonderful day, darling. Things going so well at work - well, at least
for me. I'm sorry yours wasn't so good, but turn around, mummy'll make you feel
better - now, c'mon now. That's it!"
"Don't! Here. Put your arms around my neck, not around my waist - you know.
The way I like it. That's it. Isn't that much better?"
"Soft. Your thighs are so nice and soft. You know, I always thought that my
husband would be , like, you know, muscular..? But I've got more muscles than
you - did you know that your upper arms are almost like a girl's?"
"You know, I can feel the heat from you blushing. Don't you like me saying nice
things to you?"
"Mmm..Mm I like kissing you.."
"Hush, sweets. Don't you remember how upset you were when you couldn't make
love to me on our wedding night? How pleased you were when I took the
initiative and got up on top? How much you liked it?"
"If you keep acting huffy, I'll make you try getting up top again. Is that what
you want? Is that what you really want?"
"See! Told you! Now why don't you get back down, and let mummy get on top
again? There, that's a girl."
"Oh, stop complaining! It was just a figure of speech. That's what I say to
the girls in the office all day - it's just a habit - I didn't mean anything by
it for goodness sake. Here, give mummy a kiss. She's sorry."
"Mmm..Mm."
. . .
"Wasn't that great? My second promotion in less than three months? We can sure
use the money."
"No, no, sweets. Don't feel bad. Yes. I know you've been there much longer
than me - they just don't appreciate men there, that's all. S'matter of fact,
you know Jack .. In the mail room? Just quit. That means you're practically
the only man in the whole place now."
"By the way. That new girl .. What's her name? Yeah, that's right, Joanne.
She's pretty aggressive isn't she? Well, don't be such a snob. I know she's
only an office girl - I just said she's aggressive, that's all."
"No. I wasn't implying anything. Well, let's be honest. Face it, you're not
aggressive. Oh, let's not argue. I like you the way you are. C'mere. Let
mummy give you a big kiss. Make you feel better. Mm..Mm."
"Sorry dinner turned out shitty. Guess I'll never be a cook, but that was a
lovely dessert you made. Saved the meal from being a total disaster. Did you
hear Barb rave about it? - Oh, you gave her the recipe - that was sweet of you.
And it was nice of you and her to do all the dishes, though you did make an
awful mess of your shirt when you splashed up that stuff from the sink. Yeah, I
wasn't too happy with Ellen for laughing at you either."
"But I've got a big day tomorrow. Think I'm gonna get a new group. I'm not
sure yet, but c'mere, cuddle in to mummy. That's a good girl."
"Mmm..Mm."
. . .
"Boy! What a week that's been! How do you like me as a boss? No! I told you
I didn't know I was going to get your group. Won't you admit now, that I had a
good idea in not telling anyone at work we were married? If we'd said anything
about it, you might have been asked to leave the company altogether, and then
where would we have been? Jobs are really tough to get these days."
"Remind me to get a bottle of booze to give to Ellen tomorrow night and - would
you pick up a nice bunch of flowers for Barbara? Don't be silly dear, your
taste in flowers is much better than mine."
. . .
"Boy! That Barbara can cook, can't she? I'm stuffed. Well you can't talk. I
didn't see you passing up much. She seemed pleased at the help you gave her in
the kitchen. To tell the truth, you seemed happy too. The pair of you looked
like sisters in these frilly aprons .. Yes, yes, I remember about the mess you
made of your shirt last week ... Oh c'mon now - she made you wear it? Oh, she
convinced you that it was a good idea. That's better. But what was the chiffon
hair scarves for? Oh, to keep the hair out of the food? That makes sense, I
guess. And wasn't I right about the flowers? She was never that pleased with
any I ever got her."
"Oh. Before I forget. I've a project that needs doing in a hurry tomorrow, so
I'm going to put you and Joanne on it together. What do you mean 'she's hard to
get along with'? Oh, yes she does seem to have a problem taking instruction.
That shouldn't be a problem though sweets. Well.. It's the other way around
actually - you'll be working for her. Oh stop complaining for goodness sake.
She's much more aggressive than you - and I need the job in a hurry. Now don't
turn your back on me!"
"I mean this sweets. You're starting to really bug me. Now come to mummy.
She'll give you big kisses and.."
"Now. I warned you, didn't I? Don't cry. It was just a little spanking, and
you were being very naughty, weren't you? Yes, yes, there's a good girl. Come
to mummy now, and we'll kiss and make up."
. . .
"See! Didn't I tell you? Joanne and you are doing a great job. Well, so what
if she's bossy? I didn't hear you complain this afternoon when she got you to
go and make the coffee for me and her, did I? Didn't she say what a wonderful
help you'd been? Maybe you should take in one of your new aprons to the office?
- Bet that'd impress her all right. Oh, I'm only teasing, for goodness sake!"
"Are we going to argue about this again? For Christ’s' sake, you women are all
alike! Well, I'm sorry. Told you before, it's just a figure of speech. But
honestly. Barbara tells you to wear a pretty apron and a chiffon scarf about
your hair when you're in the kitchen, and it's all big smiles and 'yes
Barbara's.' I buy you some pretty aprons and scarves, and it's 'oh, this is so
embarrassing. I can't wear this - it's too feminine..'
"Yeah. I've noticed how much time you're in the kitchen now. Why else would I
have bought you the aprons? But you're a great little cook. And didn't you
offer to be more of a help? Well, how was I to know you didn't mean forever?
But you really are a pretty good little housewife .. Oh, before you iron my
white pleated blouse this week, would you check the sewing on the buttons at the
back? Some of them might need fixing. Yes? There's a good girl!"
"And I was just thinking. You know, when you do the housework? I've got some
pants that are just a little too small for me - they might fit you.
Yes, of course they are women's pants - you ever seen me in men's? Oh, don't be
so ridiculous! Who's gonna see? I'll look some out for you tomorrow. Now go
to sleep and stop arguing all the time!"
"Yes. I'm kinda mad at you. O.K., I know you don't mean to make me mad, but
sometimes you're just so naughty! O.K., That's fine. Come to mummy then.
That's a good girl... But I'm still a little angry at you, you know.
My mother was Scottish. What was it she used to call Sissies?
Eh?. eh?. Jessies! That's what it was. Jessies! But I don't think much of it
for a name, do you? Well, when you're being naughty, I'm going to tease you.
Gonna call you by a girl's name - got it! Jessica! Isn't that a better name?
Jessica going to say she likes her name? Or would she like to go over mummy's
knee instead?"
"Yes, yes! I won't call you Jessica anywhere else. I promise!"
. . .
"I know I promised. I know for goodness sake! I forgot!
Anyway, I don't see how you can blame me. It wasn't me that was flitting
around being the 'coffee girl' this morning - yes, I've heard how you agreed to
take your turn - but how come it's only you and the office girl
doing it? Oh, Joanne thought it a good idea? Now it makes perfect sense."
"And sitting there at lunch time with Mary, Agnes, and Frances. Diddums like
crocheting with the girls? Diddums like wearing a nice pink satin smock like
the other girls? Oh, so its got big pockets, handy for holding the wool - well,
of course! Why didn't I think of that?"
"So Joanne 'suggested' you interact more with the other girls in the group? So
what? Did you have to join the crocheting circle? What would you do if she
'suggested' that you use the 'ladies room' with the other girls? Bet you'd fit
right in there - especially if you wore your little pink smock. "
"Oh, stop crying Jessica, I'm only teasing you for goodness sake. Give mummy a
kiss. Mm.mmm ... Are you wearing perfume?
Well, I only asked for goodness sake! Oh! I just remembered. How would you
like to crochet me one of these loose fitting 'weskits'. I don't know. Some
sort of angora mix would be nice, maybe in a light blue. You'll do that for
mummy? That's a good girl! Mm..Mmm."
. . .
"Jessica. That was a really nice meal again tonight. I think even Barbara was
impressed. She had seconds on your salad, and Ellen had seconds on that
cassoulet - and the bread, that was out of this world! What are you trying to
do? Get me even fatter?"
"Of course Barbara noticed that you were wearing ladies pants. I mean, what do
you want me to say? That she didn't?"
"But I don't want to talk about food - I'm a little horny tonight. Here, give
me a kiss. Mmm..Mm you are so soft - and you do smell so pretty, you sure you
don't have perfume on? C'mere to mummy."
"No! I won't allow you to get a haircut tomorrow. I like your hair that length
- maybe even a little longer. Well, for goodness sake! Talk to Barbara, or
even Frances in your crochet circle - both of them are great with hair. If you
ask, I'm sure they'll show you how to take care of it.
Now give mummy a kiss. You sure you don't have perfume on? Smells like
Shalimar to me?"
. . .
"Now. Admit it, wasn't that a fun evening? Oh, c'mon. It wasn't my fault that
Ellen didn't want to wait for a pool table and we decided to come back early.
It wasn't me that was prancing around in a dress and heels - well, how was I to
know that you were just giving Barbara a hand by modeling a dress she was
making for a friend? But I still think she was conning you - I mean, I can see
having to have the padding in the bra to get the bust size right, but you had to
wear heels to get the hem right? - And the frilly petticoat was to check the
amount of skirt material? Yeah, sure!"
"Well, I was a little pissed off. Of course I was. I mean, look at all the
shit you raised last month when I got you some aprons - eh? Barbara gives you
some kind of B.S. And, next thing, you're all cute in a dress? So, what if I
got a teeny bit mad and made you wear it for the rest of the night? Admit it,
you enjoyed it, didn't you? I saw you dance with Ellen - all sweet and clinging
- didn't take too long for you to learn the girl's part, did it?"
"I did think you and Barbara looked cute together, trying to figure who should
lead. That was funny. She did a nice job on your hair and your makeup, don't
you think? Well, you had to get back here, didn't you? And you had the choice
of looking more like a girl, or like a boy in a dress. Remember how you pleaded
with me to let Barb put makeup on you? So maybe I don't want you to take it off
right this minute. Yeah, I'll probably let you wash your hair out tomorrow
sometime, then you'll have Sunday to get it back to normal before work on
Monday."
"And now, something's been buggin' me. Tell me. You've been wearing Shalimar
for a couple of weeks now. Now, no bullshit! Who got it for you?
Jesus! Nancy! The new office girl? Oh, she's just fooling around, putting a
little on you. Every day? Aw shit! You seem to do everything anybody else
tells you. Barbara, Joanne, and now Nancy for Christ’s sake! But fight tooth
and nail with me when I ask the simplest things from you."
"Good night!"
"You keep saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' but it didn't stop you from arguing
with me at Ellen's and Barbara's when I told you to keep the dress on - did you
argue with Barbara when she 'asked' you to put it on? Do you fight with Nancy
when she says "Oh let's put a little perfume on Jessica
- or whatever it is she says. And I'll bet you don't tell Joanne you don't
wanna crochet today, because the pink satin smock you wear is a touch girlish
for you?"
"Yes, of course I want you to wear that dress and petticoat sometime. As a
matter of fact, I paid Barbara for them before we left - you can count that
outfit as one of your birthday presents next week.."
"Well, it's nice to hear that you'll do that for me. Forgive me if I sound
sarcastic but at least that's something - I still don't think it's a whole
helluva lot - after all, Barbara was the one that got you into it originally.
Wearing it just for me is no big surprise now. No. I don't know what I want!"
"You will? You'll wear another dress for me? No arguing? You promise?
Huh? How come I don't believe you? Suppose, just suppose, I asked you to go
out to dinner with me, and bought you a red satin dress to wear? Stop futzing
about now! You would?
Ok. I can ask you to wear a dress, anywhere, any time - yes, I know, just once
- but that's a promise?"
"Ok I forgive you. Come to mummy. There, that's a good girl."
. . .
Well, wasn't that a nice surprise - the girls having that little birthday party
for you at work today - and the nice presents you got. What were they again?
Panties?, Stockings?, Lipstick, and a new smock for your crocheting stuff. I'm
surprised that they got you a blue one - you know, the 'masculine' connotations
- but it's a pretty blue, don't you agree? And these big pearl buttons at the
neck and cuffs - don't think anyone could possibly get the idea that it'd be for
a man, do you?"
"Oh Jessica! I damn near died trying to keep a straight face. You should have
seen your expressions, as you opened up your presents. There, circled by
giggling girls, having to say "Thank you" to them all - and modeling your new
smock - oh it was priceless! I notice that they all call you Jessica now.
Didn't you tell them that you objected to it? Oh. I thought you did. - Not
that they'd pay much attention anyway."
"Gonna wear your panties to work tomorrow? Don't be silly, of course you
should. I mean, how d'you think one of your friends are gonna feel when they
ask 'you wearing your panties today Jessica? The ones you liked so much
yesterday?" - and you tell them 'no!'
"Yes. It would be easy to say 'yes' and be telling a lie - but I'd bet that
there's gonna be more than one finger snapping your panty elastic from outside
your pants - lots of girls do it to each other, just for fun. And you might
just piss off some of these tougher girls - you know, telling them how much you
liked their presents one day, then lying to them about wearing them the next.
Might get real mad at you then, huh?"
"And aren't you glad they don't know we're married? I mean, what would you say
when they asked you "what did your wife get you for your birthday?" You gonna
tell them about the dress - and the frilly petticoat - and the two pairs of
lovely baby doll pajamas - which ones you wearing just now? I can't see too well
in the dark. Oh yes, the pink ones - go better with your new lipstick, right?"
"Well, let's see. Got nice baby dolls on, a little touch of perfume, a trace of
lipstick. You're nice and soft, as usual, and you've even put your hair up for
mummy - though she did have to ask - just a nice pretty little girl on her
birthday. Now come over mummy's knees and she'll give you your birthday spanks
- there, that's a good girl."
. . .
"I've got to say this Jessica. You really are getting kinda girlish you know?
I mean, even at work. You've only been wearing panties for what?, A couple of
weeks at most? But your hair is almost like a girls. You wear lipstick most of
the time now - didn't I see you freshen it up at your desk this morning? Yes.
Thought so. You're starting to walk like a girl, talk like a girl...
"But what's bothering me is that I think Joanne's about ready to make a play for
you. Yes, I know she's a lesbian - but you are getting cuter and cuter all the
time - and I don't mean 'macho cute' either. I'm starting to think that I'd
better let the people know what our relationship is."
"Yeah, I know I've been against it - but there's something come up. I don't
know how to tell you, but Kathleen's leaving - and they've offered me the whole
department - yeah! I'm scared that Joanne - she's going to be your new manager
- now don't fuss. I spanked you the last time, and I'll do it again. - Anyway,
I'm scared that with me gone, she's going to take you over."
"No. I can't promote you. Surely you see that?"
"Well, I've decided to take you up on the promise you made me some time back.
Remember? The one about wearing a dress for me? Yeah, thought you would.
Well, the company costume ball is next week, and I can't dodge it now, now I'm
at the level I'm at - so you can wear it for me then."
"Oh stop it. I know you're not complaining - and lucky for you, you're not. I
have an idea for your dress, but I've got to do some checking. Now go to sleep.
Mummy's tired."
"Yes. Thank you dear. I knew you'd be happy to hear about my promotion.
Night night."
. . .
"No. Don't get undressed yet. Come over here. Sit by me on the bed. Here,
let me arrange your veil for you. Mmm.Mm you make such a lovely bride. All
that white satin really suits you. I must say, Barbara did a fantastic job on
taking my wedding dress in for you, don't you think?"
And didn't she look so nice in her bridesmaid's dress? The two of you made such
a pretty picture - but you definitely were the belle of the ball. Boy, I
couldn't believe how jealous some of these other girls were when they saw you.
No. C'mon! They weren't being mean to have that little ceremony for us, after
I told them of our intention to get married - they were just being nice - didn't
lots of them dance you afterwards? They wouldn't have done that if they didn't
like you - would they? Well, of course some of them wanted to tease you a
little - I mean, it's not every day you see such a pretty male bride, especially
when he dances the girl's part so well.
What does it matter what they say on Monday morning? Just wear your new dress
in to work - of course I'm serious! You're surely not going to pretend that
you're a man any more, are you?
Now just lie back here in mummy's arms, and we'll play husband and wife.
But we'll do it the right way this time, OK? Just LOOK at this new toy that
Mummy has for you! Want to give it a kiss?
"What a wonderful day, darling. Things going so well at work - well, at least
for me. I'm sorry yours wasn't so good, but turn around, mummy'll make you feel
better - now, c'mon now. That's it!"
"Don't! Here. Put your arms around my neck, not around my waist - you know.
The way I like it. That's it. Isn't that much better?"
"Soft. Your thighs are so nice and soft. You know, I always thought that my
husband would be , like, you know, muscular..? But I've got more muscles than
you - did you know that your upper arms are almost like a girl's?"
"You know, I can feel the heat from you blushing. Don't you like me saying nice
things to you?"
"Mmm..Mm I like kissing you.."
"Hush, sweets. Don't you remember how upset you were when you couldn't make
love to me on our wedding night? How pleased you were when I took the
initiative and got up on top? How much you liked it?"
"If you keep acting huffy, I'll make you try getting up top again. Is that what
you want? Is that what you really want?"
"See! Told you! Now why don't you get back down, and let mummy get on top
again? There, that's a girl."
"Oh, stop complaining! It was just a figure of speech. That's what I say to
the girls in the office all day - it's just a habit - I didn't mean anything by
it for goodness sake. Here, give mummy a kiss. She's sorry."
"Mmm..Mm."
. . .
"Wasn't that great? My second promotion in less than three months? We can sure
use the money."
"No, no, sweets. Don't feel bad. Yes. I know you've been there much longer
than me - they just don't appreciate men there, that's all. S'matter of fact,
you know Jack .. In the mail room? Just quit. That means you're practically
the only man in the whole place now."
"By the way. That new girl .. What's her name? Yeah, that's right, Joanne.
She's pretty aggressive isn't she? Well, don't be such a snob. I know she's
only an office girl - I just said she's aggressive, that's all."
"No. I wasn't implying anything. Well, let's be honest. Face it, you're not
aggressive. Oh, let's not argue. I like you the way you are. C'mere. Let
mummy give you a big kiss. Make you feel better. Mm..Mm."
"Sorry dinner turned out shitty. Guess I'll never be a cook, but that was a
lovely dessert you made. Saved the meal from being a total disaster. Did you
hear Barb rave about it? - Oh, you gave her the recipe - that was sweet of you.
And it was nice of you and her to do all the dishes, though you did make an
awful mess of your shirt when you splashed up that stuff from the sink. Yeah, I
wasn't too happy with Ellen for laughing at you either."
"But I've got a big day tomorrow. Think I'm gonna get a new group. I'm not
sure yet, but c'mere, cuddle in to mummy. That's a good girl."
"Mmm..Mm."
. . .
"Boy! What a week that's been! How do you like me as a boss? No! I told you
I didn't know I was going to get your group. Won't you admit now, that I had a
good idea in not telling anyone at work we were married? If we'd said anything
about it, you might have been asked to leave the company altogether, and then
where would we have been? Jobs are really tough to get these days."
"Remind me to get a bottle of booze to give to Ellen tomorrow night and - would
you pick up a nice bunch of flowers for Barbara? Don't be silly dear, your
taste in flowers is much better than mine."
. . .
"Boy! That Barbara can cook, can't she? I'm stuffed. Well you can't talk. I
didn't see you passing up much. She seemed pleased at the help you gave her in
the kitchen. To tell the truth, you seemed happy too. The pair of you looked
like sisters in these frilly aprons .. Yes, yes, I remember about the mess you
made of your shirt last week ... Oh c'mon now - she made you wear it? Oh, she
convinced you that it was a good idea. That's better. But what was the chiffon
hair scarves for? Oh, to keep the hair out of the food? That makes sense, I
guess. And wasn't I right about the flowers? She was never that pleased with
any I ever got her."
"Oh. Before I forget. I've a project that needs doing in a hurry tomorrow, so
I'm going to put you and Joanne on it together. What do you mean 'she's hard to
get along with'? Oh, yes she does seem to have a problem taking instruction.
That shouldn't be a problem though sweets. Well.. It's the other way around
actually - you'll be working for her. Oh stop complaining for goodness sake.
She's much more aggressive than you - and I need the job in a hurry. Now don't
turn your back on me!"
"I mean this sweets. You're starting to really bug me. Now come to mummy.
She'll give you big kisses and.."
"Now. I warned you, didn't I? Don't cry. It was just a little spanking, and
you were being very naughty, weren't you? Yes, yes, there's a good girl. Come
to mummy now, and we'll kiss and make up."
. . .
"See! Didn't I tell you? Joanne and you are doing a great job. Well, so what
if she's bossy? I didn't hear you complain this afternoon when she got you to
go and make the coffee for me and her, did I? Didn't she say what a wonderful
help you'd been? Maybe you should take in one of your new aprons to the office?
- Bet that'd impress her all right. Oh, I'm only teasing, for goodness sake!"
"Are we going to argue about this again? For Christ’s' sake, you women are all
alike! Well, I'm sorry. Told you before, it's just a figure of speech. But
honestly. Barbara tells you to wear a pretty apron and a chiffon scarf about
your hair when you're in the kitchen, and it's all big smiles and 'yes
Barbara's.' I buy you some pretty aprons and scarves, and it's 'oh, this is so
embarrassing. I can't wear this - it's too feminine..'
"Yeah. I've noticed how much time you're in the kitchen now. Why else would I
have bought you the aprons? But you're a great little cook. And didn't you
offer to be more of a help? Well, how was I to know you didn't mean forever?
But you really are a pretty good little housewife .. Oh, before you iron my
white pleated blouse this week, would you check the sewing on the buttons at the
back? Some of them might need fixing. Yes? There's a good girl!"
"And I was just thinking. You know, when you do the housework? I've got some
pants that are just a little too small for me - they might fit you.
Yes, of course they are women's pants - you ever seen me in men's? Oh, don't be
so ridiculous! Who's gonna see? I'll look some out for you tomorrow. Now go
to sleep and stop arguing all the time!"
"Yes. I'm kinda mad at you. O.K., I know you don't mean to make me mad, but
sometimes you're just so naughty! O.K., That's fine. Come to mummy then.
That's a good girl... But I'm still a little angry at you, you know.
My mother was Scottish. What was it she used to call Sissies?
Eh?. eh?. Jessies! That's what it was. Jessies! But I don't think much of it
for a name, do you? Well, when you're being naughty, I'm going to tease you.
Gonna call you by a girl's name - got it! Jessica! Isn't that a better name?
Jessica going to say she likes her name? Or would she like to go over mummy's
knee instead?"
"Yes, yes! I won't call you Jessica anywhere else. I promise!"
. . .
"I know I promised. I know for goodness sake! I forgot!
Anyway, I don't see how you can blame me. It wasn't me that was flitting
around being the 'coffee girl' this morning - yes, I've heard how you agreed to
take your turn - but how come it's only you and the office girl
doing it? Oh, Joanne thought it a good idea? Now it makes perfect sense."
"And sitting there at lunch time with Mary, Agnes, and Frances. Diddums like
crocheting with the girls? Diddums like wearing a nice pink satin smock like
the other girls? Oh, so its got big pockets, handy for holding the wool - well,
of course! Why didn't I think of that?"
"So Joanne 'suggested' you interact more with the other girls in the group? So
what? Did you have to join the crocheting circle? What would you do if she
'suggested' that you use the 'ladies room' with the other girls? Bet you'd fit
right in there - especially if you wore your little pink smock. "
"Oh, stop crying Jessica, I'm only teasing you for goodness sake. Give mummy a
kiss. Mm.mmm ... Are you wearing perfume?
Well, I only asked for goodness sake! Oh! I just remembered. How would you
like to crochet me one of these loose fitting 'weskits'. I don't know. Some
sort of angora mix would be nice, maybe in a light blue. You'll do that for
mummy? That's a good girl! Mm..Mmm."
. . .
"Jessica. That was a really nice meal again tonight. I think even Barbara was
impressed. She had seconds on your salad, and Ellen had seconds on that
cassoulet - and the bread, that was out of this world! What are you trying to
do? Get me even fatter?"
"Of course Barbara noticed that you were wearing ladies pants. I mean, what do
you want me to say? That she didn't?"
"But I don't want to talk about food - I'm a little horny tonight. Here, give
me a kiss. Mmm..Mm you are so soft - and you do smell so pretty, you sure you
don't have perfume on? C'mere to mummy."
"No! I won't allow you to get a haircut tomorrow. I like your hair that length
- maybe even a little longer. Well, for goodness sake! Talk to Barbara, or
even Frances in your crochet circle - both of them are great with hair. If you
ask, I'm sure they'll show you how to take care of it.
Now give mummy a kiss. You sure you don't have perfume on? Smells like
Shalimar to me?"
. . .
"Now. Admit it, wasn't that a fun evening? Oh, c'mon. It wasn't my fault that
Ellen didn't want to wait for a pool table and we decided to come back early.
It wasn't me that was prancing around in a dress and heels - well, how was I to
know that you were just giving Barbara a hand by modeling a dress she was
making for a friend? But I still think she was conning you - I mean, I can see
having to have the padding in the bra to get the bust size right, but you had to
wear heels to get the hem right? - And the frilly petticoat was to check the
amount of skirt material? Yeah, sure!"
"Well, I was a little pissed off. Of course I was. I mean, look at all the
shit you raised last month when I got you some aprons - eh? Barbara gives you
some kind of B.S. And, next thing, you're all cute in a dress? So, what if I
got a teeny bit mad and made you wear it for the rest of the night? Admit it,
you enjoyed it, didn't you? I saw you dance with Ellen - all sweet and clinging
- didn't take too long for you to learn the girl's part, did it?"
"I did think you and Barbara looked cute together, trying to figure who should
lead. That was funny. She did a nice job on your hair and your makeup, don't
you think? Well, you had to get back here, didn't you? And you had the choice
of looking more like a girl, or like a boy in a dress. Remember how you pleaded
with me to let Barb put makeup on you? So maybe I don't want you to take it off
right this minute. Yeah, I'll probably let you wash your hair out tomorrow
sometime, then you'll have Sunday to get it back to normal before work on
Monday."
"And now, something's been buggin' me. Tell me. You've been wearing Shalimar
for a couple of weeks now. Now, no bullshit! Who got it for you?
Jesus! Nancy! The new office girl? Oh, she's just fooling around, putting a
little on you. Every day? Aw shit! You seem to do everything anybody else
tells you. Barbara, Joanne, and now Nancy for Christ’s sake! But fight tooth
and nail with me when I ask the simplest things from you."
"Good night!"
"You keep saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' but it didn't stop you from arguing
with me at Ellen's and Barbara's when I told you to keep the dress on - did you
argue with Barbara when she 'asked' you to put it on? Do you fight with Nancy
when she says "Oh let's put a little perfume on Jessica
- or whatever it is she says. And I'll bet you don't tell Joanne you don't
wanna crochet today, because the pink satin smock you wear is a touch girlish
for you?"
"Yes, of course I want you to wear that dress and petticoat sometime. As a
matter of fact, I paid Barbara for them before we left - you can count that
outfit as one of your birthday presents next week.."
"Well, it's nice to hear that you'll do that for me. Forgive me if I sound
sarcastic but at least that's something - I still don't think it's a whole
helluva lot - after all, Barbara was the one that got you into it originally.
Wearing it just for me is no big surprise now. No. I don't know what I want!"
"You will? You'll wear another dress for me? No arguing? You promise?
Huh? How come I don't believe you? Suppose, just suppose, I asked you to go
out to dinner with me, and bought you a red satin dress to wear? Stop futzing
about now! You would?
Ok. I can ask you to wear a dress, anywhere, any time - yes, I know, just once
- but that's a promise?"
"Ok I forgive you. Come to mummy. There, that's a good girl."
. . .
Well, wasn't that a nice surprise - the girls having that little birthday party
for you at work today - and the nice presents you got. What were they again?
Panties?, Stockings?, Lipstick, and a new smock for your crocheting stuff. I'm
surprised that they got you a blue one - you know, the 'masculine' connotations
- but it's a pretty blue, don't you agree? And these big pearl buttons at the
neck and cuffs - don't think anyone could possibly get the idea that it'd be for
a man, do you?"
"Oh Jessica! I damn near died trying to keep a straight face. You should have
seen your expressions, as you opened up your presents. There, circled by
giggling girls, having to say "Thank you" to them all - and modeling your new
smock - oh it was priceless! I notice that they all call you Jessica now.
Didn't you tell them that you objected to it? Oh. I thought you did. - Not
that they'd pay much attention anyway."
"Gonna wear your panties to work tomorrow? Don't be silly, of course you
should. I mean, how d'you think one of your friends are gonna feel when they
ask 'you wearing your panties today Jessica? The ones you liked so much
yesterday?" - and you tell them 'no!'
"Yes. It would be easy to say 'yes' and be telling a lie - but I'd bet that
there's gonna be more than one finger snapping your panty elastic from outside
your pants - lots of girls do it to each other, just for fun. And you might
just piss off some of these tougher girls - you know, telling them how much you
liked their presents one day, then lying to them about wearing them the next.
Might get real mad at you then, huh?"
"And aren't you glad they don't know we're married? I mean, what would you say
when they asked you "what did your wife get you for your birthday?" You gonna
tell them about the dress - and the frilly petticoat - and the two pairs of
lovely baby doll pajamas - which ones you wearing just now? I can't see too well
in the dark. Oh yes, the pink ones - go better with your new lipstick, right?"
"Well, let's see. Got nice baby dolls on, a little touch of perfume, a trace of
lipstick. You're nice and soft, as usual, and you've even put your hair up for
mummy - though she did have to ask - just a nice pretty little girl on her
birthday. Now come over mummy's knees and she'll give you your birthday spanks
- there, that's a good girl."
. . .
"I've got to say this Jessica. You really are getting kinda girlish you know?
I mean, even at work. You've only been wearing panties for what?, A couple of
weeks at most? But your hair is almost like a girls. You wear lipstick most of
the time now - didn't I see you freshen it up at your desk this morning? Yes.
Thought so. You're starting to walk like a girl, talk like a girl...
"But what's bothering me is that I think Joanne's about ready to make a play for
you. Yes, I know she's a lesbian - but you are getting cuter and cuter all the
time - and I don't mean 'macho cute' either. I'm starting to think that I'd
better let the people know what our relationship is."
"Yeah, I know I've been against it - but there's something come up. I don't
know how to tell you, but Kathleen's leaving - and they've offered me the whole
department - yeah! I'm scared that Joanne - she's going to be your new manager
- now don't fuss. I spanked you the last time, and I'll do it again. - Anyway,
I'm scared that with me gone, she's going to take you over."
"No. I can't promote you. Surely you see that?"
"Well, I've decided to take you up on the promise you made me some time back.
Remember? The one about wearing a dress for me? Yeah, thought you would.
Well, the company costume ball is next week, and I can't dodge it now, now I'm
at the level I'm at - so you can wear it for me then."
"Oh stop it. I know you're not complaining - and lucky for you, you're not. I
have an idea for your dress, but I've got to do some checking. Now go to sleep.
Mummy's tired."
"Yes. Thank you dear. I knew you'd be happy to hear about my promotion.
Night night."
. . .
"No. Don't get undressed yet. Come over here. Sit by me on the bed. Here,
let me arrange your veil for you. Mmm.Mm you make such a lovely bride. All
that white satin really suits you. I must say, Barbara did a fantastic job on
taking my wedding dress in for you, don't you think?"
And didn't she look so nice in her bridesmaid's dress? The two of you made such
a pretty picture - but you definitely were the belle of the ball. Boy, I
couldn't believe how jealous some of these other girls were when they saw you.
No. C'mon! They weren't being mean to have that little ceremony for us, after
I told them of our intention to get married - they were just being nice - didn't
lots of them dance you afterwards? They wouldn't have done that if they didn't
like you - would they? Well, of course some of them wanted to tease you a
little - I mean, it's not every day you see such a pretty male bride, especially
when he dances the girl's part so well.
What does it matter what they say on Monday morning? Just wear your new dress
in to work - of course I'm serious! You're surely not going to pretend that
you're a man any more, are you?
Now just lie back here in mummy's arms, and we'll play husband and wife.
But we'll do it the right way this time, OK? Just LOOK at this new toy that
Mummy has for you! Want to give it a kiss?
07 October 2010
Sissy Mission 7
Lawnmower
By Cheryl Alison
It was a Sunday evening and Mistress and I were lazing
around watching TV trying to avoid the reality of work on
Monday morning. The Simpsons was on, and Homer and Flanders
had made a little bet. Somehow, they both lost and had to
mow their respective lawns wearing their wives' Sunday
dresses. I looked at Mistress and I knew that another Sissy
Mission was probably in my future!
"Hmmm," was all she said. I knew I was in for it.
Monday afternoon I arrived home from work to find Mistress
in the kitchen smiling and humming away as she put away the
groceries she had picked up on her way home. She smiled at
me as I walked in and placed a perky little peck on my
cheek.
"Go see what I have laid out for you."
I went to our bedroom to get out of my work clothes and
found that I would not be getting dressed in my usual
sweats for an evening at home. On the bed was a dress I had
not seen my wife wear for some time. It was a throwback to
the 80s — a pastel floral print with a light crinoline
underneath and lace around the edges. She had also placed a
gold chain on the bed, with the key to the lawn tractor
attached.
Mistress entered the room and said, "Put it on, sissy. The
lawn needs to be mowed and you're just the sissy to do it."
I sighed but dutifully stripped off my work clothes and
placed the dress over my head. I looked a little ridiculous
with a five o'clock shadow and no makeup or the usual
complicated feminine preparations that Mistress requires
for a Sissy Mission.
Mistress walked over and gently buttoned up the back of the
dress. She took both of my hands in hers and stepped back a
little, admiring her sissy in his Sunday dress.
"Oh, one more thing," she giggled. "Here's your panties.
Step in, sissy." She produced a pair of red velvet panties
and I stepped into them. She snugged them up and gave me a
little thrill as her hand passed over the front.
"Now march out to the garage and fire up the tractor,
Sissy," she said, playfully slapping my bottom.
It was summer and of course at 6:00 pm there was still
plenty of bright sunshine to reveal me in my Sunday dress
mowing the lawn. Several cars slowed down and gawked, with
the occupants laughing and pointing. Mistress had come out
while I was mowing to tell me that it would be a good idea
for me to wave to passing cars, so that added to my
humiliation.
By 7:00, I was done and putting the lawn tractor in the
garage. At least half the neighborhood had seen me, and I
was sure the phone lines were abuzz. Mistress intercepted
me in the driveway as I was planning to enter the house to
remove my dress. There was a glint in her eye and a hose
nozzle in her hand.
"Stop right there, sissy," she said authoritatively.
I looked at her with a "You wouldn't" look and suddenly I
was the recipient of a shower of cold water. Mistress hosed
me for a good five minutes, which was long enough for our
friends Bob and Marianne to pull up in the driveway. They
were generally clueless about our Mistress/Sissy
relationship, but they were aware that we were not quite a
conventional couple, either.
"How do you like my husband in his dress?" said Mistress.
Marianne giggled. "He looks like he had a shower." Then her
eyes fell to my midsection, where the material of the dress
was almost sheer in its wetness. "Ohh!" she squealed in
delight. "Nice red panties!"
Bob was laughing. I was in awe. I wondered if Mistress
hadn't picked up the phone and invited them over.
Bob said, "Boy, I bet you'll never bet on football with
your wife again!" If only he knew that there was never a
bet!
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time he's worn panties,"
said Mistress loudly. Bob and Marianne just laughed,
thinking it was a joke, and I nervously chuckled, hoping
that she wouldn't reveal much more.
Mistress invited Bob and Marianne in, and as they entered
the house, she whispered in my ear, "Sissy Mission
accomplished... for now."
I found some dry sweats and joined Mistress, Bob, and
Marianne in the family room. As I entered, Mistress told
me, "You know, I just volunteered you for a service
project. Marianne is the Relay for Life coordinator and
they're having a womanless beauty pageant. I told her
you've been practicing in high heels for just such an
occasion. She's looking forward to making you fabulous."
Sissy missions are never done.
By Cheryl Alison
It was a Sunday evening and Mistress and I were lazing
around watching TV trying to avoid the reality of work on
Monday morning. The Simpsons was on, and Homer and Flanders
had made a little bet. Somehow, they both lost and had to
mow their respective lawns wearing their wives' Sunday
dresses. I looked at Mistress and I knew that another Sissy
Mission was probably in my future!
"Hmmm," was all she said. I knew I was in for it.
Monday afternoon I arrived home from work to find Mistress
in the kitchen smiling and humming away as she put away the
groceries she had picked up on her way home. She smiled at
me as I walked in and placed a perky little peck on my
cheek.
"Go see what I have laid out for you."
I went to our bedroom to get out of my work clothes and
found that I would not be getting dressed in my usual
sweats for an evening at home. On the bed was a dress I had
not seen my wife wear for some time. It was a throwback to
the 80s — a pastel floral print with a light crinoline
underneath and lace around the edges. She had also placed a
gold chain on the bed, with the key to the lawn tractor
attached.
Mistress entered the room and said, "Put it on, sissy. The
lawn needs to be mowed and you're just the sissy to do it."
I sighed but dutifully stripped off my work clothes and
placed the dress over my head. I looked a little ridiculous
with a five o'clock shadow and no makeup or the usual
complicated feminine preparations that Mistress requires
for a Sissy Mission.
Mistress walked over and gently buttoned up the back of the
dress. She took both of my hands in hers and stepped back a
little, admiring her sissy in his Sunday dress.
"Oh, one more thing," she giggled. "Here's your panties.
Step in, sissy." She produced a pair of red velvet panties
and I stepped into them. She snugged them up and gave me a
little thrill as her hand passed over the front.
"Now march out to the garage and fire up the tractor,
Sissy," she said, playfully slapping my bottom.
It was summer and of course at 6:00 pm there was still
plenty of bright sunshine to reveal me in my Sunday dress
mowing the lawn. Several cars slowed down and gawked, with
the occupants laughing and pointing. Mistress had come out
while I was mowing to tell me that it would be a good idea
for me to wave to passing cars, so that added to my
humiliation.
By 7:00, I was done and putting the lawn tractor in the
garage. At least half the neighborhood had seen me, and I
was sure the phone lines were abuzz. Mistress intercepted
me in the driveway as I was planning to enter the house to
remove my dress. There was a glint in her eye and a hose
nozzle in her hand.
"Stop right there, sissy," she said authoritatively.
I looked at her with a "You wouldn't" look and suddenly I
was the recipient of a shower of cold water. Mistress hosed
me for a good five minutes, which was long enough for our
friends Bob and Marianne to pull up in the driveway. They
were generally clueless about our Mistress/Sissy
relationship, but they were aware that we were not quite a
conventional couple, either.
"How do you like my husband in his dress?" said Mistress.
Marianne giggled. "He looks like he had a shower." Then her
eyes fell to my midsection, where the material of the dress
was almost sheer in its wetness. "Ohh!" she squealed in
delight. "Nice red panties!"
Bob was laughing. I was in awe. I wondered if Mistress
hadn't picked up the phone and invited them over.
Bob said, "Boy, I bet you'll never bet on football with
your wife again!" If only he knew that there was never a
bet!
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time he's worn panties,"
said Mistress loudly. Bob and Marianne just laughed,
thinking it was a joke, and I nervously chuckled, hoping
that she wouldn't reveal much more.
Mistress invited Bob and Marianne in, and as they entered
the house, she whispered in my ear, "Sissy Mission
accomplished... for now."
I found some dry sweats and joined Mistress, Bob, and
Marianne in the family room. As I entered, Mistress told
me, "You know, I just volunteered you for a service
project. Marianne is the Relay for Life coordinator and
they're having a womanless beauty pageant. I told her
you've been practicing in high heels for just such an
occasion. She's looking forward to making you fabulous."
Sissy missions are never done.
Sissy Mission 6
Poodle Skirt
By Cheryl Alison
I sat on the bench assessing my surroundings. It was
a well-kept small town, with a cobblestone main
street and nicely maintained historic buildings.
Banners and awnings in the front of shops fluttered
in the breeze, advertising everything from antiques
to hardware. Since it was a town located on a large
lake with lots of recreation opportunities, it was
busy on this early June day. People strolled up and
down the sidewalks, ice cream cones in hand, most of
them escaping from stressful jobs in the city or
feeling the freedom of being out of school for the
summer.
The breeze tugged at my skirt, and instinctively I
moved my left hand to the hem. I looked down at the
skirt, reminded of how out of place I was here.
Rather than a light cotton or rayon summer skirt, I
was wearing a heavy pink poodle skirt right out of
the 1950s. I was also wearing black and white saddle
shoes with white bobby socks, and a pink sweater. My
hair was done in what my beautician had called a
"pixie cut" and my nails were painted pink to match
the outfit. Pink blush, lipstick, and eye shadow also
complimented my ensemble, while a pair of vintage
cat-eye sunglasses provided the finishing touch.
In short, I was an anachronism. Most of the people
around me were dressed in L.L. Bean casual, while I
was a pink 1950s girl surrounded by the millennium.
Only the town, perfectly restored in its brick
facades, was a fitting surrounding for me. People
were beginning to take notice the moment I sat on the
bench, and passers-by were very interested in what I
was doing. The first group of strollers was three
older women, who had probably grown up in the 1950s.
They stopped, lining up to scrutinize my outfit.
"Well, honey, that is a cute outfit!" bubbled the
more outgoing of the three. "Why, I haven’t seen a
poodle skirt since high school. Where did you get
it?"
I gathered up some courage and spoke. "My mistress
gave it to me. I am being punished for being a bad
little girl."
My voice spilled the beans. In makeup and shades, it
was not obvious to the general public that I was a
man. However, when I spoke in my usual deep voice,
the ladies could hardly avoid the truth.
"Oh!" yelped the woman. One of her friends covered
her mouth and then sort of giggled nervously. "Well,
we have to be going, girls," she finally said and led
her friends down the street, bewildered.
In the meantime, more and more people seemed to be
taking notice of me in my unique situation. Many
probably thought I was part of some sort of store
promotion, so it seemed that folks on the other side
of the street were gravitating toward my side of the
street.
A couple of girls in their teens stopped by in shorts
and crop tops, complete with lip-gloss and sun-
bleached hair. "Are you giving away coupons?" one of
them asked.
"No, I’m here to be punished."
Once again my voice gave me away. The girls began
giggling uncontrollably, but instead of moving on as
the older women had, they stayed.
"Punished for what? You’re a man." The two statements
didn’t really seem to fit together, but marked their
confusion pretty well.
"I’ve been a bad girl."
"Oh, I see," smiled the taller of the two. "Well,
you’re very pretty. Do you have a boyfriend?" she
said, smirking.
"Err, no." I said, turning beet red and hoping they
would leave.
"Do you have panties on under that skirt?" piped up
the other of the two.
"Yes, they are pink," I answered, with the statement
that Mistress had told me to use if anyone asked.
"Do you like to wear dresses and stuff? Are your
boobs real?"
I squirmed on the bench, wishing they would leave.
"Yes, I like to wear girlie clothes. My breasts are
forms that I stuff into my bra."
"Are you a crossdresser?"
"Yes, my mistress doesn’t allow me to wear any men’s
clothes anymore outside of work."
"Well, we think you’re cute. Bye."
Finally! It was about time to end that humiliation. I
looked at my watch. I had only been on the bench for
fifteen minutes! It had felt like the proverbial
eternity. I had three hours to go.
"Mommy, look at that lady!"
"Nice skirt!"
And it went on and on. Every time I interacted with
someone, his or her eyes got big in shock as I
revealed my maleness with my voice. Then it would
turn into a long explanation about how I was being
punished.
It wasn’t until someone offered me an ice cream cone,
though, that anyone noticed another aspect of my
predicament.
"I’ve seen you over here for about an hour, and I was
wondering if you would like an ice cream cone," said
the woman in her thirties.
"Yes, I’d like that," I said, reaching out with my
left hand. I didn’t catch her reaction at my voice,
but as I was taking the ice cream cone from her hand,
I dropped it on my skirt. My urge was to bring my
right hand forward to grab it, but I lurched against
the bench. You see, my right hand was handcuffed to
the bench.
"Oh, dear. Let me help you," she said graciously,
pulling out some napkins and helping to wipe off the
mess."
"Thank you," I said.
"Poor dear, why are you handcuffed to the bench?"
"I’ve been a bad girl and I’m being punished."
She erupted into laughter. "What are you being
punished for? It’s kind of unusual to be punished by
dressing in a poodle skirt and being handcuffed to a
bench."
"My wife caught me with her pantyhose."
"Oh, you’re a crossdresser! How interesting!" she
said, just a little too loudly, drawing the attention
of the seven or eight people adjacent to our area. A
few threw disgusted looks our way, and others sort of
milled around, mumbling to each other. I could hear
the occasional "weirdo" and "freak" come out of those
conversations.
"How long do you have to sit here?" she asked.
"Until 6 o’clock," I answered.
Her eyes actually flashed something like sympathy.
She sat down on the bench next to me, putting her
hand on my knee. "Well, I’ll sit here for a minute
with you."
I was glad to have found someone to talk to, hoping
it would pass the time. She seemed very sympathetic,
and it was almost a turn-on to have a woman
interested in my state, rather than repulsed by it.
"You don’t recognize me, do you?" she said.
"No," I said, expecting her to relate to me that she
was some kind of local celebrity.
"I’m Nancy’s friend Julie from work. She asked me to
come by and see you."
My wife’s friend! I had met her and her husband at a
holiday party we had held at our house. Now I
recognized her. The sense of humiliation took another
turn, deepening and forcing me to realize that
Mistress never leaves anything uncomplicated.
"You look really good. I’m surprised. I thought you
would look like a guy in drag, but you look like a
fifties girl, just maybe a little bit on the tall
side," she complimented.
Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps
Mistress had just sent Julie to check on me. She was
certainly being sympathetic.
"Nancy did ask me a favor, though. You see that
female police officer down the street? I’m supposed
to ask her for a handcuff key. Then you’re to come
with me."
Crap--here come the complications, I thought.
Mistress is never happy just humiliating me in a
simple fashion.
Julie motioned the police officer over. "Ma’am, I
think this poor girl here has been the victim of a
trick. Can you unlock her?" I kept my face down,
hoping that she wouldn’t notice that I was a man.
"Sure," said the lady cop. "How did you get in this
situation?" She had done what I dreaded most—asked me
a direct question.
"I was a bad girl and I’m being punished."
"Oooh!" she said, taking some delight in my
predicament. "Perhaps this is a punishment I can
suggest to our local judge!" she joked. "You’re
cute."
I didn’t feel so cute; as a matter of fact, I was
beginning to feel a little sick, knowing that Julie
had been sent by Mistress to take me to entirely
another level of humiliation.
After the cop left, Julie said, "Come on, I’m
supposed to take you for a drink."
That didn’t sound too bad—Mistress had taken me to
the House of Pancakes in drag before. I figured I
could handle a half hour in a bar.
Julie took my hand and led me down the street to
where a sign said "Big John’s Pub— Happy Hour 5:00."
It was noisy inside and filled with patrons. As we
entered the doors, though, my heart just about
stopped. On a stage across the bar was Mistress,
dressed in her favorite black leather mini and a
sleeveless shirt, perfectly made up and wicked.
"Happy hour has begun," she yelled into the mike,
amid cheers from the patrons. "Today’s happy hour is
special. We have a drink promotion for the ladies.
Its called Spank the Transvestite! If you swat this
little girly man’s bottom, you get a free drink!"
The crowd loved it, anything for a free drink, and to
watch the humiliation of another human being to boot.
What a deal! Many of the women in the bar rushed
forward to participate.
Mistress came down from the stage and took my hand,
leading me up to a chair. I expected her to tell me
to lean over it, but instead, in the final crowning
humiliation, she sat down, and pulled me over her
knee. She whispered in my ear, "I want to hold you
and watch your bottom get red."
In a flourish for the crowd, she raised my pink
skirt, revealing my skimpy pink ruffled panties for
all the bar patrons. A cheer rose up, and someone
started chanting, "Spank! Spank! Spank! . . ."
As each woman came up, they had a tray of beers ready
to hand out. The first woman raised her hand and
joked "This is going to hurt me more than it will
you!" and laid into me with a good SMACK! Although
most showed some restraint in their spanking, the
fire in my bottom grew as the night went along.
Periodically, Mistress Nancy would make me stand up
and twirl me around, showing off my red bottom.
As a finale to the evening, Mistress got very
creative. "Our little sissy has been so good tonight,
let’s cool down her bottom!" The crowd cheered as she
made me bend down, placing my hands on the floor with
my bottom high in the air. "Bottoms up!" she yelled
as she splashed her drink across my pink panties. It
ran down, soaking parts of my skirt and sweater.
Patron after patron ran up to the stage, splashing
their drinks on my ass until I collapsed on the
stage, soaked in everything from beer to rum.
Mistress grabbed my hair and pulled me up. With a
glint in her eyes and a sly smile, she leaned toward
me, placing her hands on my face tenderly. "My little
sissy. Mission accomplished?"
"Yes, Mistress," I managed to squeak out.
And with that, she gave me the unusual reward of
placing her wine-red lips on my pink lips, and
kissing me long and hard, her tongue darting around
mine. "Let’s go home and get a shower, Sissy."
By Cheryl Alison
I sat on the bench assessing my surroundings. It was
a well-kept small town, with a cobblestone main
street and nicely maintained historic buildings.
Banners and awnings in the front of shops fluttered
in the breeze, advertising everything from antiques
to hardware. Since it was a town located on a large
lake with lots of recreation opportunities, it was
busy on this early June day. People strolled up and
down the sidewalks, ice cream cones in hand, most of
them escaping from stressful jobs in the city or
feeling the freedom of being out of school for the
summer.
The breeze tugged at my skirt, and instinctively I
moved my left hand to the hem. I looked down at the
skirt, reminded of how out of place I was here.
Rather than a light cotton or rayon summer skirt, I
was wearing a heavy pink poodle skirt right out of
the 1950s. I was also wearing black and white saddle
shoes with white bobby socks, and a pink sweater. My
hair was done in what my beautician had called a
"pixie cut" and my nails were painted pink to match
the outfit. Pink blush, lipstick, and eye shadow also
complimented my ensemble, while a pair of vintage
cat-eye sunglasses provided the finishing touch.
In short, I was an anachronism. Most of the people
around me were dressed in L.L. Bean casual, while I
was a pink 1950s girl surrounded by the millennium.
Only the town, perfectly restored in its brick
facades, was a fitting surrounding for me. People
were beginning to take notice the moment I sat on the
bench, and passers-by were very interested in what I
was doing. The first group of strollers was three
older women, who had probably grown up in the 1950s.
They stopped, lining up to scrutinize my outfit.
"Well, honey, that is a cute outfit!" bubbled the
more outgoing of the three. "Why, I haven’t seen a
poodle skirt since high school. Where did you get
it?"
I gathered up some courage and spoke. "My mistress
gave it to me. I am being punished for being a bad
little girl."
My voice spilled the beans. In makeup and shades, it
was not obvious to the general public that I was a
man. However, when I spoke in my usual deep voice,
the ladies could hardly avoid the truth.
"Oh!" yelped the woman. One of her friends covered
her mouth and then sort of giggled nervously. "Well,
we have to be going, girls," she finally said and led
her friends down the street, bewildered.
In the meantime, more and more people seemed to be
taking notice of me in my unique situation. Many
probably thought I was part of some sort of store
promotion, so it seemed that folks on the other side
of the street were gravitating toward my side of the
street.
A couple of girls in their teens stopped by in shorts
and crop tops, complete with lip-gloss and sun-
bleached hair. "Are you giving away coupons?" one of
them asked.
"No, I’m here to be punished."
Once again my voice gave me away. The girls began
giggling uncontrollably, but instead of moving on as
the older women had, they stayed.
"Punished for what? You’re a man." The two statements
didn’t really seem to fit together, but marked their
confusion pretty well.
"I’ve been a bad girl."
"Oh, I see," smiled the taller of the two. "Well,
you’re very pretty. Do you have a boyfriend?" she
said, smirking.
"Err, no." I said, turning beet red and hoping they
would leave.
"Do you have panties on under that skirt?" piped up
the other of the two.
"Yes, they are pink," I answered, with the statement
that Mistress had told me to use if anyone asked.
"Do you like to wear dresses and stuff? Are your
boobs real?"
I squirmed on the bench, wishing they would leave.
"Yes, I like to wear girlie clothes. My breasts are
forms that I stuff into my bra."
"Are you a crossdresser?"
"Yes, my mistress doesn’t allow me to wear any men’s
clothes anymore outside of work."
"Well, we think you’re cute. Bye."
Finally! It was about time to end that humiliation. I
looked at my watch. I had only been on the bench for
fifteen minutes! It had felt like the proverbial
eternity. I had three hours to go.
"Mommy, look at that lady!"
"Nice skirt!"
And it went on and on. Every time I interacted with
someone, his or her eyes got big in shock as I
revealed my maleness with my voice. Then it would
turn into a long explanation about how I was being
punished.
It wasn’t until someone offered me an ice cream cone,
though, that anyone noticed another aspect of my
predicament.
"I’ve seen you over here for about an hour, and I was
wondering if you would like an ice cream cone," said
the woman in her thirties.
"Yes, I’d like that," I said, reaching out with my
left hand. I didn’t catch her reaction at my voice,
but as I was taking the ice cream cone from her hand,
I dropped it on my skirt. My urge was to bring my
right hand forward to grab it, but I lurched against
the bench. You see, my right hand was handcuffed to
the bench.
"Oh, dear. Let me help you," she said graciously,
pulling out some napkins and helping to wipe off the
mess."
"Thank you," I said.
"Poor dear, why are you handcuffed to the bench?"
"I’ve been a bad girl and I’m being punished."
She erupted into laughter. "What are you being
punished for? It’s kind of unusual to be punished by
dressing in a poodle skirt and being handcuffed to a
bench."
"My wife caught me with her pantyhose."
"Oh, you’re a crossdresser! How interesting!" she
said, just a little too loudly, drawing the attention
of the seven or eight people adjacent to our area. A
few threw disgusted looks our way, and others sort of
milled around, mumbling to each other. I could hear
the occasional "weirdo" and "freak" come out of those
conversations.
"How long do you have to sit here?" she asked.
"Until 6 o’clock," I answered.
Her eyes actually flashed something like sympathy.
She sat down on the bench next to me, putting her
hand on my knee. "Well, I’ll sit here for a minute
with you."
I was glad to have found someone to talk to, hoping
it would pass the time. She seemed very sympathetic,
and it was almost a turn-on to have a woman
interested in my state, rather than repulsed by it.
"You don’t recognize me, do you?" she said.
"No," I said, expecting her to relate to me that she
was some kind of local celebrity.
"I’m Nancy’s friend Julie from work. She asked me to
come by and see you."
My wife’s friend! I had met her and her husband at a
holiday party we had held at our house. Now I
recognized her. The sense of humiliation took another
turn, deepening and forcing me to realize that
Mistress never leaves anything uncomplicated.
"You look really good. I’m surprised. I thought you
would look like a guy in drag, but you look like a
fifties girl, just maybe a little bit on the tall
side," she complimented.
Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps
Mistress had just sent Julie to check on me. She was
certainly being sympathetic.
"Nancy did ask me a favor, though. You see that
female police officer down the street? I’m supposed
to ask her for a handcuff key. Then you’re to come
with me."
Crap--here come the complications, I thought.
Mistress is never happy just humiliating me in a
simple fashion.
Julie motioned the police officer over. "Ma’am, I
think this poor girl here has been the victim of a
trick. Can you unlock her?" I kept my face down,
hoping that she wouldn’t notice that I was a man.
"Sure," said the lady cop. "How did you get in this
situation?" She had done what I dreaded most—asked me
a direct question.
"I was a bad girl and I’m being punished."
"Oooh!" she said, taking some delight in my
predicament. "Perhaps this is a punishment I can
suggest to our local judge!" she joked. "You’re
cute."
I didn’t feel so cute; as a matter of fact, I was
beginning to feel a little sick, knowing that Julie
had been sent by Mistress to take me to entirely
another level of humiliation.
After the cop left, Julie said, "Come on, I’m
supposed to take you for a drink."
That didn’t sound too bad—Mistress had taken me to
the House of Pancakes in drag before. I figured I
could handle a half hour in a bar.
Julie took my hand and led me down the street to
where a sign said "Big John’s Pub— Happy Hour 5:00."
It was noisy inside and filled with patrons. As we
entered the doors, though, my heart just about
stopped. On a stage across the bar was Mistress,
dressed in her favorite black leather mini and a
sleeveless shirt, perfectly made up and wicked.
"Happy hour has begun," she yelled into the mike,
amid cheers from the patrons. "Today’s happy hour is
special. We have a drink promotion for the ladies.
Its called Spank the Transvestite! If you swat this
little girly man’s bottom, you get a free drink!"
The crowd loved it, anything for a free drink, and to
watch the humiliation of another human being to boot.
What a deal! Many of the women in the bar rushed
forward to participate.
Mistress came down from the stage and took my hand,
leading me up to a chair. I expected her to tell me
to lean over it, but instead, in the final crowning
humiliation, she sat down, and pulled me over her
knee. She whispered in my ear, "I want to hold you
and watch your bottom get red."
In a flourish for the crowd, she raised my pink
skirt, revealing my skimpy pink ruffled panties for
all the bar patrons. A cheer rose up, and someone
started chanting, "Spank! Spank! Spank! . . ."
As each woman came up, they had a tray of beers ready
to hand out. The first woman raised her hand and
joked "This is going to hurt me more than it will
you!" and laid into me with a good SMACK! Although
most showed some restraint in their spanking, the
fire in my bottom grew as the night went along.
Periodically, Mistress Nancy would make me stand up
and twirl me around, showing off my red bottom.
As a finale to the evening, Mistress got very
creative. "Our little sissy has been so good tonight,
let’s cool down her bottom!" The crowd cheered as she
made me bend down, placing my hands on the floor with
my bottom high in the air. "Bottoms up!" she yelled
as she splashed her drink across my pink panties. It
ran down, soaking parts of my skirt and sweater.
Patron after patron ran up to the stage, splashing
their drinks on my ass until I collapsed on the
stage, soaked in everything from beer to rum.
Mistress grabbed my hair and pulled me up. With a
glint in her eyes and a sly smile, she leaned toward
me, placing her hands on my face tenderly. "My little
sissy. Mission accomplished?"
"Yes, Mistress," I managed to squeak out.
And with that, she gave me the unusual reward of
placing her wine-red lips on my pink lips, and
kissing me long and hard, her tongue darting around
mine. "Let’s go home and get a shower, Sissy."
Sissy Mission 5
Stacked Sissy
By Cheryl Alison
Everyone in the hardware store was staring at me. The
checkout lady at the front of the store stared when I
walked in. The mother and her teenage daughter stared. The
guy in the back at the engine shop stared as I walked by.
As I approached the section where they had gas grills set
up for display, a woman who was forty-something with
striking grey hair coiffed in a bob approached me. "Can I
help you, ahh... uh..." She kind of trailed off at the
point where normally one would say ma'am or sir.
You see, I had large breasts. And although the potential
for large breasts exists in humans and there are many
examples, there are few examples on men. Mistress had
charged me (her sissy husband) with my latest mission: to
buy a gas grill while endowed with large breasts. I was
wearing jean shorts with my legs shaved, tennis shoes, and
a white T-shirt. My breasts were courtesy of Mistress:
expensive forms that were applied to the chest with
adhesive. Their realism was stunning, down to the detail of
the nipples. Sometimes when Mistress transforms me into her
sissy, I am nearly passable. This time, I was not. I had to
suffer the embarrassment of large breasts, braless under a
t-shirt, while the only other vestiges of femininity were
my shaved legs and a light pink lipstick. Otherwise,
Mistress had made me keep a small amount of stubble and my
hair styled in masculine fashion. I was obviously a
sissified male with large breasts.
My hardware store helper was standing, a tad stunned,
waiting for me to take the next step in communication. "I'm
here to buy a gas grill." She looked relieved, and took the
opportunity to focus on the request, rather than the
breasts, although her eyes would always seem to end up on
my chest if she looked at me.
"Well, we have several models. Will you be cooking for a
lot of people?"
"Yes, we entertain from time to time. We cook a lot of
breasts. How much is the red one on the end?"
Her reply was less than immediate, due to my comment about
breasts, I'm sure. It was a line Mistress had encouraged me
to use. However, she overcame her shock at my deadpan
comment and replied, "That one is two seventy nine. It's
been a good model for us. We haven't heard of any problems
with them yet. Would you like me to get Dan to load it for
you?"
"Yes, I think that's the one I will go with," I replied.
She yelled at Dan to bring one up to the front while I
moved with her to the checkout.
She rang up the sale, I paid, and then we waited in an
uncomfortable silence for Dan to bring the grill. I could
tell she wanted to ask about my unique endowment, but
couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
Dan finally brought the grill up, and stumbled mightily as
his eyes drifted over my chest. Once he picked himself back
up, he mumbled something about where my car was and I told
him. I said goodbye to the still-confused sales lady and
led Dan to the car. I opened the hatch and he struggled to
place the box inside. It became caught on the lip of the
hatchback, so I moved behind him to help pull the corner of
the box past. As I did, my large breasts brushed his back
and he jumped. Already nervous about just what or who I
was, I'm sure it was a traumatic experience and his
expression was priceless as he turned around.
"Sorry, these get in the way sometimes," I said, holding
them up from underneath, one in each hand. He didn't say a
word and walked back into the store, shaking his head.
Upon returning home with the grill, Mistress asked the
usual question: "Sissy mission accomplished?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, and related the story to her.
"Good sissy. Now put on your pink satin toolbelt and put
that grill together. The girls are coming over in a few
hours and you're the entertainment. You get to be a one-
sissy wet T-shirt contest."
Mistress never leaves a mission uncomplicated.
Later that evening, I writhed in humiliation as my wife and
her two best friends turned the hose on me as my breasts
flopped around, showing through my white t-shirt. All I
could do is circle the clothesline pole in a bizarre
imitation of a maypole dance, since my arms were tied
behind me around the pole. As a reward for putting up with
a higher-than-average level of humiliation, however, each
woman removed her panties and used them to rub me dry; a
sensual experience that I thought would end the evening.
Then I saw the proverbial glint in Mistress's eye. With her
crooked, cruel little grin, which I cannot resist, she
said, "Missy looks thirsty. Let's give her a drink."
Holding my chin in her strong fingers, she tipped my head
back and wrung out her panties into my mouth. As she held
my head, her friends joined in, giggling.
Sissy mission accomplished? At least for the evening.
"You know, a beer garden with a serving wench might be fun
for Superbowl Sunday," piped up one of the gals.
"Good idea," said Mistress. I fell on the ground with the
last pair of panties stuffed in my mouth, mumbling
incoherently. "I think Missy likes it, too."
By Cheryl Alison
Everyone in the hardware store was staring at me. The
checkout lady at the front of the store stared when I
walked in. The mother and her teenage daughter stared. The
guy in the back at the engine shop stared as I walked by.
As I approached the section where they had gas grills set
up for display, a woman who was forty-something with
striking grey hair coiffed in a bob approached me. "Can I
help you, ahh... uh..." She kind of trailed off at the
point where normally one would say ma'am or sir.
You see, I had large breasts. And although the potential
for large breasts exists in humans and there are many
examples, there are few examples on men. Mistress had
charged me (her sissy husband) with my latest mission: to
buy a gas grill while endowed with large breasts. I was
wearing jean shorts with my legs shaved, tennis shoes, and
a white T-shirt. My breasts were courtesy of Mistress:
expensive forms that were applied to the chest with
adhesive. Their realism was stunning, down to the detail of
the nipples. Sometimes when Mistress transforms me into her
sissy, I am nearly passable. This time, I was not. I had to
suffer the embarrassment of large breasts, braless under a
t-shirt, while the only other vestiges of femininity were
my shaved legs and a light pink lipstick. Otherwise,
Mistress had made me keep a small amount of stubble and my
hair styled in masculine fashion. I was obviously a
sissified male with large breasts.
My hardware store helper was standing, a tad stunned,
waiting for me to take the next step in communication. "I'm
here to buy a gas grill." She looked relieved, and took the
opportunity to focus on the request, rather than the
breasts, although her eyes would always seem to end up on
my chest if she looked at me.
"Well, we have several models. Will you be cooking for a
lot of people?"
"Yes, we entertain from time to time. We cook a lot of
breasts. How much is the red one on the end?"
Her reply was less than immediate, due to my comment about
breasts, I'm sure. It was a line Mistress had encouraged me
to use. However, she overcame her shock at my deadpan
comment and replied, "That one is two seventy nine. It's
been a good model for us. We haven't heard of any problems
with them yet. Would you like me to get Dan to load it for
you?"
"Yes, I think that's the one I will go with," I replied.
She yelled at Dan to bring one up to the front while I
moved with her to the checkout.
She rang up the sale, I paid, and then we waited in an
uncomfortable silence for Dan to bring the grill. I could
tell she wanted to ask about my unique endowment, but
couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
Dan finally brought the grill up, and stumbled mightily as
his eyes drifted over my chest. Once he picked himself back
up, he mumbled something about where my car was and I told
him. I said goodbye to the still-confused sales lady and
led Dan to the car. I opened the hatch and he struggled to
place the box inside. It became caught on the lip of the
hatchback, so I moved behind him to help pull the corner of
the box past. As I did, my large breasts brushed his back
and he jumped. Already nervous about just what or who I
was, I'm sure it was a traumatic experience and his
expression was priceless as he turned around.
"Sorry, these get in the way sometimes," I said, holding
them up from underneath, one in each hand. He didn't say a
word and walked back into the store, shaking his head.
Upon returning home with the grill, Mistress asked the
usual question: "Sissy mission accomplished?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, and related the story to her.
"Good sissy. Now put on your pink satin toolbelt and put
that grill together. The girls are coming over in a few
hours and you're the entertainment. You get to be a one-
sissy wet T-shirt contest."
Mistress never leaves a mission uncomplicated.
Later that evening, I writhed in humiliation as my wife and
her two best friends turned the hose on me as my breasts
flopped around, showing through my white t-shirt. All I
could do is circle the clothesline pole in a bizarre
imitation of a maypole dance, since my arms were tied
behind me around the pole. As a reward for putting up with
a higher-than-average level of humiliation, however, each
woman removed her panties and used them to rub me dry; a
sensual experience that I thought would end the evening.
Then I saw the proverbial glint in Mistress's eye. With her
crooked, cruel little grin, which I cannot resist, she
said, "Missy looks thirsty. Let's give her a drink."
Holding my chin in her strong fingers, she tipped my head
back and wrung out her panties into my mouth. As she held
my head, her friends joined in, giggling.
Sissy mission accomplished? At least for the evening.
"You know, a beer garden with a serving wench might be fun
for Superbowl Sunday," piped up one of the gals.
"Good idea," said Mistress. I fell on the ground with the
last pair of panties stuffed in my mouth, mumbling
incoherently. "I think Missy likes it, too."
Sissy Mission 4
By Cheryl Alison
Mistress believes in community service. So when she dropped
the ad on my desk at home, I knew that I would be a
faithful community servant within a short while. The ad
read:
Southern Belles Needed
The Ladies' Auxiliary needs volunteers to greet
visitors at the Civil War memorial. Ladies need their
own costumes and parasols. Please meet in costume at
the Civil War memorial park on Friday, March 23 at
4:00 pm.
"You're going to look sweet in a southern belle dress. We
better make a hair appointment for Friday. You need to take
the afternoon off."
On Wednesday afternoon, Mistress took me to the costume
shop. She marched me right in and told the owner "My sissy
little husband here needs a southern belle gown. He's going
to a masquerade."
The owner was an attractive woman in her forties with long,
curly red hair tied back in a ponytail. I am sure she had
found costumes for other men in drag, but her smile told me
she could see right through me - that I was enjoying this.
"Well, what is your sissy's name?"
"You can call her Missy," said Mistress.
"All right, Missy, please come this way. I think I can find
you a sweet southern belle ensemble."
We arrived in front of a rack of dresses that were all
elaborate, full-skirted creations of femininity. Looking at
me, the owner of the shop said, "Let me guess, a 16?"
Mistress gave me a look that told me I better answer. "Yes,
ma'am." I replied softly.
"Well, don't be shy, Sissy Missy. I've got plenty of
dresses in 16 for bigger gals like you."
With that, the shop owner ran her hand down the rack and
plucked out two gowns, hanging them in front of us. "Which
one do you like best?" Once again, her question was
directed at me and Mistress gave me another look.
One gown was pink cotton, with lace edging around all the
ruffled layers. Its skirt was voluminous, and the top had
long sleeves and a scooped neck outlined in lace. The other
gown was black with a lighter colored print, and satin
edges on all of the ruffles.
"The pink one, I guess," I answered.
"I might have known you were a sissy with good taste," said
the owner. "Let's help you into it." My pleading eyes
flickered over to Mistress, but I could see that she was
going to let me deal with this situation on my own. I
followed the owner to the dressing room. "First," she said,
"you will need the hoop skirt. Let me go find one while you
undress." I began to remove my pants and shirt, revealing
the bra and pantyhose that Mistress had made me wear for
the occasion. The owner returned outside the curtain, and
said, "Here, put this hoop skirt on and then come out here
to put the dress on. There's no one in the store right
now."
I took the extremely ballooned hoop skirt and stepped into
the middle of it, bringing it up around me. Tying the
waist, I stepped out of the dressing room.
"Oh, my, I see you have a strapless brassiere on. That's
good. I was wondering how you would hold the top of the
dress up with no chest. Come here, and let me see how this
hoop skirt works." She pulled up the hoopskirt, adjusting
it. "I see you have your hose on, too, darlin'. Why you are
prepared."
Pulling the dress on, I was shrouded in soft cotton and
lace edging. The dress fit well and Mistress was pleased.
The shop owner said, "Why I suppose you're going to need a
wig. We've got some Scarlett O'Hara wigs around here
somewhere."
Mistress told her, "Oh, Missy gets her own hair done at the
salon. We'll take her there."
"You are quite the little gal now, aren't you!" said the
shop owner as if she was talking to a ten year old girl.
"Well, you're all set; it'll be seventy five for the rental
through Sunday."
Before I could return to the dressing room to take the
dress off, two teenage girls came in the store. The
giggling commenced as they noticed it was not a woman in
the pink southern belle gown. Mistress was relentless and
instead of guiding me to the dressing room, told them:
"Girls, can I get your opinion on my husband here? How does
he look in his gown? Is it sissy enough?"
They just kept giggling. "Oh, he's cute," one of them said.
"What's the occasion?"
"Oh, he likes to dress up in prissy clothes. He doesn't
really need an occasion, but he's going to volunteer to
greet visitors at the Civil War memorial. He'll be there
this Saturday. Tell your friends."
"That's funny," said one of the girls. "We're here to pick
up gowns for that, too. We decided to volunteer."
"Well, that's great. His name is Missy and I'm sure he's
glad to have met some new friends."
Mistress guided me back to the dressing room, my face
burning in humiliation. I could hear the girls giggling and
talking as the shop owner began to help them find gowns.
On Friday, I got off work early to begin the transformation
to a southern belle. Mistress took me to the salon where
she had made an appointment. First, my longer-than-normal
hair was curled into sausage curls by a young beautician
who kept just gushing about my predicament.
"Oh, I've never done this to a man before. This is fun. You
make quite an attractive lady. Do you want ribbons in your
hair?" Of course, Mistress liked the ribbon idea, so pink
satin ribbons were tied in my sausage curls.
Then, I was moved to another station to get extremely heavy
makeup. "Make it theatrical," Mistress told the
cosmetologist. "I want Missy to stand out in a crowd."
My lips were painted a dark pink, and pink eye shadow and
blush were applied heavily over my pale pancake makeup.
Finally, my eyelashes were given what seemed like seventeen
coats of mascara.
Back at home, Mistress helped me into my clothes. I was
dressed in undergarments that I'm sure were much more
appropriate to the modern era-a longline bra with breast
forms, pink panties (Mistress said they matched the dress)
and white shimmer pantyhose. A pair of high heel sandals
with an open back in white were the final touch to the
ensemble. With the dress and hoop skirt on, I felt
extremely cumbersome and Mistress had to show me how to
hike up and gather the hoops to get in the car. Still, I
couldn't sit down very well.
At the park, there was quite a crowd as it was summer and
tourist season. Most folks on the way in didn't pay much
attention to me. I came to area where the volunteers were
signing up. The woman in charge didn't notice I was a man
until my voice gave me away.
"Well, I guess you look like a southern belle," was about
all she said, sort of rolling her eyes. "I think you have a
couple of girls waiting that wanted to be in your group.
We're walking the grounds in groups of three. A proper
civil war era lady would never have walked alone."
With that, the two high school girls appeared from behind,
recognizing my pink dress. "We thought we would wait for
you. You look gorgeous!" one of them gushed. I looked
behind me to see where Mistress was, and she was gone. "Oh,
don't worry," said the other girl. "Your wife told us to
take care of you. She has some errands to run, so we agreed
to take you home after the fashion show."
"Fashion show?" I questioned.
"Yes, didn't you know? There's a fashion show for all the
volunteers at 5:00. We're going to show off our gowns to
the visitors."
And with that, my southern belle career and my runway model
career began.
When Mistress finally picked me up (late, I might add) her
words to me were "Sissy Mission Accomplished?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good, then it's time to show you off to mom and the ladies
at her card club. You can serve them evening tea on the
lawn. I've already arranged it."
Community service never ends.
Mistress believes in community service. So when she dropped
the ad on my desk at home, I knew that I would be a
faithful community servant within a short while. The ad
read:
Southern Belles Needed
The Ladies' Auxiliary needs volunteers to greet
visitors at the Civil War memorial. Ladies need their
own costumes and parasols. Please meet in costume at
the Civil War memorial park on Friday, March 23 at
4:00 pm.
"You're going to look sweet in a southern belle dress. We
better make a hair appointment for Friday. You need to take
the afternoon off."
On Wednesday afternoon, Mistress took me to the costume
shop. She marched me right in and told the owner "My sissy
little husband here needs a southern belle gown. He's going
to a masquerade."
The owner was an attractive woman in her forties with long,
curly red hair tied back in a ponytail. I am sure she had
found costumes for other men in drag, but her smile told me
she could see right through me - that I was enjoying this.
"Well, what is your sissy's name?"
"You can call her Missy," said Mistress.
"All right, Missy, please come this way. I think I can find
you a sweet southern belle ensemble."
We arrived in front of a rack of dresses that were all
elaborate, full-skirted creations of femininity. Looking at
me, the owner of the shop said, "Let me guess, a 16?"
Mistress gave me a look that told me I better answer. "Yes,
ma'am." I replied softly.
"Well, don't be shy, Sissy Missy. I've got plenty of
dresses in 16 for bigger gals like you."
With that, the shop owner ran her hand down the rack and
plucked out two gowns, hanging them in front of us. "Which
one do you like best?" Once again, her question was
directed at me and Mistress gave me another look.
One gown was pink cotton, with lace edging around all the
ruffled layers. Its skirt was voluminous, and the top had
long sleeves and a scooped neck outlined in lace. The other
gown was black with a lighter colored print, and satin
edges on all of the ruffles.
"The pink one, I guess," I answered.
"I might have known you were a sissy with good taste," said
the owner. "Let's help you into it." My pleading eyes
flickered over to Mistress, but I could see that she was
going to let me deal with this situation on my own. I
followed the owner to the dressing room. "First," she said,
"you will need the hoop skirt. Let me go find one while you
undress." I began to remove my pants and shirt, revealing
the bra and pantyhose that Mistress had made me wear for
the occasion. The owner returned outside the curtain, and
said, "Here, put this hoop skirt on and then come out here
to put the dress on. There's no one in the store right
now."
I took the extremely ballooned hoop skirt and stepped into
the middle of it, bringing it up around me. Tying the
waist, I stepped out of the dressing room.
"Oh, my, I see you have a strapless brassiere on. That's
good. I was wondering how you would hold the top of the
dress up with no chest. Come here, and let me see how this
hoop skirt works." She pulled up the hoopskirt, adjusting
it. "I see you have your hose on, too, darlin'. Why you are
prepared."
Pulling the dress on, I was shrouded in soft cotton and
lace edging. The dress fit well and Mistress was pleased.
The shop owner said, "Why I suppose you're going to need a
wig. We've got some Scarlett O'Hara wigs around here
somewhere."
Mistress told her, "Oh, Missy gets her own hair done at the
salon. We'll take her there."
"You are quite the little gal now, aren't you!" said the
shop owner as if she was talking to a ten year old girl.
"Well, you're all set; it'll be seventy five for the rental
through Sunday."
Before I could return to the dressing room to take the
dress off, two teenage girls came in the store. The
giggling commenced as they noticed it was not a woman in
the pink southern belle gown. Mistress was relentless and
instead of guiding me to the dressing room, told them:
"Girls, can I get your opinion on my husband here? How does
he look in his gown? Is it sissy enough?"
They just kept giggling. "Oh, he's cute," one of them said.
"What's the occasion?"
"Oh, he likes to dress up in prissy clothes. He doesn't
really need an occasion, but he's going to volunteer to
greet visitors at the Civil War memorial. He'll be there
this Saturday. Tell your friends."
"That's funny," said one of the girls. "We're here to pick
up gowns for that, too. We decided to volunteer."
"Well, that's great. His name is Missy and I'm sure he's
glad to have met some new friends."
Mistress guided me back to the dressing room, my face
burning in humiliation. I could hear the girls giggling and
talking as the shop owner began to help them find gowns.
On Friday, I got off work early to begin the transformation
to a southern belle. Mistress took me to the salon where
she had made an appointment. First, my longer-than-normal
hair was curled into sausage curls by a young beautician
who kept just gushing about my predicament.
"Oh, I've never done this to a man before. This is fun. You
make quite an attractive lady. Do you want ribbons in your
hair?" Of course, Mistress liked the ribbon idea, so pink
satin ribbons were tied in my sausage curls.
Then, I was moved to another station to get extremely heavy
makeup. "Make it theatrical," Mistress told the
cosmetologist. "I want Missy to stand out in a crowd."
My lips were painted a dark pink, and pink eye shadow and
blush were applied heavily over my pale pancake makeup.
Finally, my eyelashes were given what seemed like seventeen
coats of mascara.
Back at home, Mistress helped me into my clothes. I was
dressed in undergarments that I'm sure were much more
appropriate to the modern era-a longline bra with breast
forms, pink panties (Mistress said they matched the dress)
and white shimmer pantyhose. A pair of high heel sandals
with an open back in white were the final touch to the
ensemble. With the dress and hoop skirt on, I felt
extremely cumbersome and Mistress had to show me how to
hike up and gather the hoops to get in the car. Still, I
couldn't sit down very well.
At the park, there was quite a crowd as it was summer and
tourist season. Most folks on the way in didn't pay much
attention to me. I came to area where the volunteers were
signing up. The woman in charge didn't notice I was a man
until my voice gave me away.
"Well, I guess you look like a southern belle," was about
all she said, sort of rolling her eyes. "I think you have a
couple of girls waiting that wanted to be in your group.
We're walking the grounds in groups of three. A proper
civil war era lady would never have walked alone."
With that, the two high school girls appeared from behind,
recognizing my pink dress. "We thought we would wait for
you. You look gorgeous!" one of them gushed. I looked
behind me to see where Mistress was, and she was gone. "Oh,
don't worry," said the other girl. "Your wife told us to
take care of you. She has some errands to run, so we agreed
to take you home after the fashion show."
"Fashion show?" I questioned.
"Yes, didn't you know? There's a fashion show for all the
volunteers at 5:00. We're going to show off our gowns to
the visitors."
And with that, my southern belle career and my runway model
career began.
When Mistress finally picked me up (late, I might add) her
words to me were "Sissy Mission Accomplished?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good, then it's time to show you off to mom and the ladies
at her card club. You can serve them evening tea on the
lawn. I've already arranged it."
Community service never ends.
Sissy Mission 3
By Cheryl Alison
I stepped out of the car and walked up the driveway of a beautiful suburban
home, the green grass manicured carefully. The driveway was full of
middle-aged women picking through the cast-off items of a rather well-to-do
family. I walked up to the rack of clothing, picking through it. One of
the women sitting at the card table on the edge of the driveway got up and
came over. She was probably around 45, still rather attractive with a
carefully coiffed perm in her dyed blond hair.
As I was lifting the hanger of one of the garments off the rack, she said,
"Are you looking for anything specific, sir? The men's clothes are back
there in the rear of the garage."
"No, ma'am," I said. "I think I found what I'm looking for. I've been
trying to find a bridal gown."
"It is nearly perfect. My daughter wore it for her wedding and decided to
sell it rather than having it heirloomed. Are you going to surprise your
fiancé?"
"No, it's for me. What size is it?"
"For you? Well, that's certainly unusual," she said, a little flustered.
"It's a size 16."
"Do you think it would fit me?" I asked.
"I don't know. You're a man. Can I ask why you might want to buy a wedding
dress?"
"I just like to feel pretty, that's all. I have a collection of wedding
gowns."
"Er, well, I guess it doesn't matter to me. I can't guarantee it'll fit,
though. Do you have cash? I don't really want to take a check."
"Yes, I have the cash right here. But I'm not sure I want to buy it if it
doesn't fit."
By this time, most of the women at the rummage sale had tuned in to what was
going on. The rummage sale lady was getting slightly concerned.
"Well, I suppose you could try it on. But I want to be relatively sure
you're going to buy it."
I handed her the $200 listed on the price tag for the garment. Now she
couldn't argue much with me.
"There's a bathroom right there through the door in the side of the garage.
Take it in there... and please try to hurry."
"Okay," I said, going into the bathroom with the garment bag.
I hurriedly stripped off my jeans and T-shirt, revealing the lace-patterned
pantyhose I was wearing underneath. I slid the petticoat over my head and
it floated down around me, kissing the edges of my thighs. Then came the
bridal gown. I hadn't even taken a good look at it outside. Pulling it from
the garment bag, I found a beautiful gown with a stretch lace bodice and a
huge amount of tulle in the skirt. I carefully slid it on over the
petticoat. It fit with just a little bit of extra room in the waist. The
stretch lace bodice hugged my upper body.
Carrying my other clothes, I stepped out of the bathroom and went through
the door to the garage. When I came out, one older woman sort of gasped in
a half-surprise, half-laughing manner. All of the women at the sale looked
at me. The woman running the sale rolled her eyes.
"It fits perfectly! Thank you so much! I'm going to be a beautiful bride.
Do you think these pantyhose match the gown?"
"You look very pretty," complimented a very old woman from across a table of
children's toys. I think she was blind.
With that, I walked down the driveway and back to the car. I opened the
door and found Mistress smiling broadly. "So, how did it go?"
Mistress always wants to know how it went.
Sissy mission accomplished.
I stepped out of the car and walked up the driveway of a beautiful suburban
home, the green grass manicured carefully. The driveway was full of
middle-aged women picking through the cast-off items of a rather well-to-do
family. I walked up to the rack of clothing, picking through it. One of
the women sitting at the card table on the edge of the driveway got up and
came over. She was probably around 45, still rather attractive with a
carefully coiffed perm in her dyed blond hair.
As I was lifting the hanger of one of the garments off the rack, she said,
"Are you looking for anything specific, sir? The men's clothes are back
there in the rear of the garage."
"No, ma'am," I said. "I think I found what I'm looking for. I've been
trying to find a bridal gown."
"It is nearly perfect. My daughter wore it for her wedding and decided to
sell it rather than having it heirloomed. Are you going to surprise your
fiancé?"
"No, it's for me. What size is it?"
"For you? Well, that's certainly unusual," she said, a little flustered.
"It's a size 16."
"Do you think it would fit me?" I asked.
"I don't know. You're a man. Can I ask why you might want to buy a wedding
dress?"
"I just like to feel pretty, that's all. I have a collection of wedding
gowns."
"Er, well, I guess it doesn't matter to me. I can't guarantee it'll fit,
though. Do you have cash? I don't really want to take a check."
"Yes, I have the cash right here. But I'm not sure I want to buy it if it
doesn't fit."
By this time, most of the women at the rummage sale had tuned in to what was
going on. The rummage sale lady was getting slightly concerned.
"Well, I suppose you could try it on. But I want to be relatively sure
you're going to buy it."
I handed her the $200 listed on the price tag for the garment. Now she
couldn't argue much with me.
"There's a bathroom right there through the door in the side of the garage.
Take it in there... and please try to hurry."
"Okay," I said, going into the bathroom with the garment bag.
I hurriedly stripped off my jeans and T-shirt, revealing the lace-patterned
pantyhose I was wearing underneath. I slid the petticoat over my head and
it floated down around me, kissing the edges of my thighs. Then came the
bridal gown. I hadn't even taken a good look at it outside. Pulling it from
the garment bag, I found a beautiful gown with a stretch lace bodice and a
huge amount of tulle in the skirt. I carefully slid it on over the
petticoat. It fit with just a little bit of extra room in the waist. The
stretch lace bodice hugged my upper body.
Carrying my other clothes, I stepped out of the bathroom and went through
the door to the garage. When I came out, one older woman sort of gasped in
a half-surprise, half-laughing manner. All of the women at the sale looked
at me. The woman running the sale rolled her eyes.
"It fits perfectly! Thank you so much! I'm going to be a beautiful bride.
Do you think these pantyhose match the gown?"
"You look very pretty," complimented a very old woman from across a table of
children's toys. I think she was blind.
With that, I walked down the driveway and back to the car. I opened the
door and found Mistress smiling broadly. "So, how did it go?"
Mistress always wants to know how it went.
Sissy mission accomplished.
Sissy Mission 2
By Cheryl Alison
I entered the dancewear shop, nervous, and a little hesitant. There were
several women browsing the racks of leotards and dance dresses, presumably
shopping for their little girls. I walked up to the counter.
The saleswoman, whose name tag identified her as Rachel, was very fit and in
her mid thirties. She had her straight dark hair pulled back. "May I help
you," she said.
"Ah, yes. I need to buy a tutu."
"Is your daughter with a specific dance company? I have the list to tell me
which one she needs," she explained.
"Well, you see, the tutu isn't for my daughter. It's for me."
Her jaw dropped just a little bit. "Well, I don't understand," she said,
"what are you looking for? Are you in a comedy production?"
"No, I just like to wear tutus," I said.
She took a breath, and then said, "Well, do you want a romantic or a
classical tutu?"
"I don't know," I said, "What's the difference?"
"The romantic is like the long skirts worn in Giselle. The classical is the
straighter, shorter style worn by ballerinas in productions like Swan Lake."
"Like the ones in Swan Lake, I guess," I said.
"Okay," she said, "I have one or two in stock that may fit you. They are
size adult large." She brought out the tutus, one pink and one white. "Do
you have a preference in color?"
"Which one do you think will match my tights?" I asked her, pulling up my
pant leg to reveal the shiny pink Capezio tights I was wearing.
Raising an eyebrow, she said, "Pink it is." In a very business-like manner,
she took the pink tutu off the hanger and brought it over to the counter to
ring it up.
"How do I know it's going to fit?" I asked.
"Believe me, I think this one will fit you."
"I don't know... the leotard part looks like it might be a bit small."
"It will stretch," she said.
"I don't know, I think I should try it on," I said.
Severely raising an eyebrow and frowning, she said, "Fine, take this and go
in the dressing room back here. Please don't damage the garment."
I took the tutu and went into the dressing room. I slid off my shirt and
pants to reveal my shiny pink tights. I slid the leotard part of the tutu
over my body. She was right-it fit. The stiff tulle tutu just about filled
up the small space of the dressing room. The velvet of the leotard tickled
my skin.
I walked out of the dressing room, in pink tutu and tights. One of the
women shopping took notice, and nudged another one. Rachel looked up from
the counter, frowning.
"You were right, it fits fine," I told her. "Do I look pretty?"
She just shook her head. The other women in the store laughed.
"I think I'll wear it out of the store," I said, moving back to the dressing
room to get my other clothes and wallet. By now, I had the whole store for
an audience.
Once I had paid for the tutu, I left the dancewear store and walked out onto
the sidewalk. I saw several people pointing and snickering as I made my way
to the car in the parking lot.
"Well, how did it go? Did you show her your tights?" she asked. Mistress
always wants to know how it went!
Sissy Mission accomplished... almost.
Mistress was in a good mood today. "Next stop, IHOP. They should have
their lunch buffet about now..."
I entered the dancewear shop, nervous, and a little hesitant. There were
several women browsing the racks of leotards and dance dresses, presumably
shopping for their little girls. I walked up to the counter.
The saleswoman, whose name tag identified her as Rachel, was very fit and in
her mid thirties. She had her straight dark hair pulled back. "May I help
you," she said.
"Ah, yes. I need to buy a tutu."
"Is your daughter with a specific dance company? I have the list to tell me
which one she needs," she explained.
"Well, you see, the tutu isn't for my daughter. It's for me."
Her jaw dropped just a little bit. "Well, I don't understand," she said,
"what are you looking for? Are you in a comedy production?"
"No, I just like to wear tutus," I said.
She took a breath, and then said, "Well, do you want a romantic or a
classical tutu?"
"I don't know," I said, "What's the difference?"
"The romantic is like the long skirts worn in Giselle. The classical is the
straighter, shorter style worn by ballerinas in productions like Swan Lake."
"Like the ones in Swan Lake, I guess," I said.
"Okay," she said, "I have one or two in stock that may fit you. They are
size adult large." She brought out the tutus, one pink and one white. "Do
you have a preference in color?"
"Which one do you think will match my tights?" I asked her, pulling up my
pant leg to reveal the shiny pink Capezio tights I was wearing.
Raising an eyebrow, she said, "Pink it is." In a very business-like manner,
she took the pink tutu off the hanger and brought it over to the counter to
ring it up.
"How do I know it's going to fit?" I asked.
"Believe me, I think this one will fit you."
"I don't know... the leotard part looks like it might be a bit small."
"It will stretch," she said.
"I don't know, I think I should try it on," I said.
Severely raising an eyebrow and frowning, she said, "Fine, take this and go
in the dressing room back here. Please don't damage the garment."
I took the tutu and went into the dressing room. I slid off my shirt and
pants to reveal my shiny pink tights. I slid the leotard part of the tutu
over my body. She was right-it fit. The stiff tulle tutu just about filled
up the small space of the dressing room. The velvet of the leotard tickled
my skin.
I walked out of the dressing room, in pink tutu and tights. One of the
women shopping took notice, and nudged another one. Rachel looked up from
the counter, frowning.
"You were right, it fits fine," I told her. "Do I look pretty?"
She just shook her head. The other women in the store laughed.
"I think I'll wear it out of the store," I said, moving back to the dressing
room to get my other clothes and wallet. By now, I had the whole store for
an audience.
Once I had paid for the tutu, I left the dancewear store and walked out onto
the sidewalk. I saw several people pointing and snickering as I made my way
to the car in the parking lot.
"Well, how did it go? Did you show her your tights?" she asked. Mistress
always wants to know how it went!
Sissy Mission accomplished... almost.
Mistress was in a good mood today. "Next stop, IHOP. They should have
their lunch buffet about now..."
Sissy Mission 1
Balloon Sissy
By Cheryl Alison
As I entered the suite of offices, I looked for the directory. It was there
on the wall, just like every other corporate accounting office. I scanned
the names. There... Bruce Jones, Managing Director. He would do.
I approached the reception area, and a dark-haired receptionist in a
conservative grey suit looked up. Her standard receptionist smile gave way
to giggles. You see, I was dressed as a hooker and delivering balloons.
The reason that the receptionist could not stop giggling, however, was that
I was a man. I was wearing a short black velvet miniskirt, a shiny silver
blouse, a dark red wig, tons of makeup, fishnet hose, and black patent
leather high heels.
"Can I help you, er, ma'am?" she giggled.
"Yes, I'm here with a singing telegram for Bruce Jones."
"Oh, he's in a meeting, but, oh, I bet I can work you in. Follow me."
She led me into a conference room where a conservatively dressed older man
was leading a meeting.
"Yes, Suzanne, what is it?" he asked.
"There's someone here to see you sir," she giggled, stepping away from the
door to reveal me.
I went into my rehearsed spiel. In my best throaty, sultry, feminine voice,
I said "Sir, you're very special to someone. These balloons are in
appreciation for all your hard work." I then put my arm around him and
said, "You are a very fit man. Do you work out?" He was so flustered he
didn't give a response. The rest of the room had broken up in laughter.
"Well, now know sir, that you are very special and your work doesn't go
unnoticed." I then led the boardroom in a rendition of "For He's a Jolly
Good Fellow." By the time I was done, my face was beet red, but I doubt it
showed under the heavy layers of makeup.
I gave him the balloons and left the room, hearing him saying, "I don't know
what I did to deserve this." The funny thing is, I had chosen him at
random. I didn't work for a balloon delivery company.
Stepping out of the office building, I got into the car, glad that it was
over.
"Well, how did it go? Did you pick somebody from management like I asked?"
she asked me. Mistress always wants to know how it went!
Sissy mission accomplished.
By Cheryl Alison
As I entered the suite of offices, I looked for the directory. It was there
on the wall, just like every other corporate accounting office. I scanned
the names. There... Bruce Jones, Managing Director. He would do.
I approached the reception area, and a dark-haired receptionist in a
conservative grey suit looked up. Her standard receptionist smile gave way
to giggles. You see, I was dressed as a hooker and delivering balloons.
The reason that the receptionist could not stop giggling, however, was that
I was a man. I was wearing a short black velvet miniskirt, a shiny silver
blouse, a dark red wig, tons of makeup, fishnet hose, and black patent
leather high heels.
"Can I help you, er, ma'am?" she giggled.
"Yes, I'm here with a singing telegram for Bruce Jones."
"Oh, he's in a meeting, but, oh, I bet I can work you in. Follow me."
She led me into a conference room where a conservatively dressed older man
was leading a meeting.
"Yes, Suzanne, what is it?" he asked.
"There's someone here to see you sir," she giggled, stepping away from the
door to reveal me.
I went into my rehearsed spiel. In my best throaty, sultry, feminine voice,
I said "Sir, you're very special to someone. These balloons are in
appreciation for all your hard work." I then put my arm around him and
said, "You are a very fit man. Do you work out?" He was so flustered he
didn't give a response. The rest of the room had broken up in laughter.
"Well, now know sir, that you are very special and your work doesn't go
unnoticed." I then led the boardroom in a rendition of "For He's a Jolly
Good Fellow." By the time I was done, my face was beet red, but I doubt it
showed under the heavy layers of makeup.
I gave him the balloons and left the room, hearing him saying, "I don't know
what I did to deserve this." The funny thing is, I had chosen him at
random. I didn't work for a balloon delivery company.
Stepping out of the office building, I got into the car, glad that it was
over.
"Well, how did it go? Did you pick somebody from management like I asked?"
she asked me. Mistress always wants to know how it went!
Sissy mission accomplished.
17 June 2010
A Walk in the Park
Visiting Aunt Val to see her new sissy, Geraldine, Gerry for short, and
take her to the Nancyville Sissy Park for the afternoon. Aunt Val
retired and donated Georgie her old sissy to Public Service. It was a
wonderful warm and sunny day for a visit to the Park. On the way to
Auntie's sissies and their owners were out promenading and shopping all
along the way. No vehicles are allowed in this section of Nancyville
except for the little electric trolley with several open cars in tow.
There was quite a bustle in the warm weather. The sissies for the most
part wore either miniskirts or hot pants with alter tops, or tubetops,
some had sports bras, and a few wore open blouses tied at the waist.
Several wore no tops. One caught my eye because of his pert puffy
breasts. Obviously his owner was showing him off. As always there were
sissies with no clothes at all except for sandals. They were usually
being punished and forced to parade around naked in the shopping area.
They almost always had reddened bottoms and walked with their heads down
in shame.
I walked up the steps to Auntie's townhouse and rang the bell. The door
opened and Auntie was standing, super fashionably dressed as always with
her arms out wanting a hug. She pulled me into her large bosom, grabbed
my behind and gave me a wet kiss before forcing her tongue into my
mouth. She knew this turned me on and there would be no time to proceed
to the intended conclusion of such an introduction. She was a big tease.
Letting me go she thanked me profusely for taking Gerry off her hands
for the afternoon. Since he was new she did not want to leave him in
Sissy Day Care yet and thought it too cruel to keep him caged up for the
day.
I heard the door close, turned and saw Aunties new perfect Sissy. He was
terribly cute, thin and so young looking in his plaid, pleated
miniskirt with a tailored open silk blouse. Just three buttons cinched
it above the navel. He was so delicate, his boy breasts and stomach so
softly defined. Strong musculature is frowned upon in a sissy. He was
wearing knee socks and saddle shoes. He had diamond stud earrings and a
diamond choke that made his alabaster skin look translucent. I could not
detect even a hint of makeup. His pale blue eyes and short blond pixie
style hair made the perfect schoolgirl.
Aunt Val told him to show me his panties and he lifted his dress to show
me his pearly white silk panties with Souvenir of Nancyville Sissy Park
embroidered on them. She said she still had them from the first time
she had brought Georgie there. I could see Gerry's little package
testing the stretch of the panties. I would soon be seeing everything as
sissies were allowed no clothing in the Park. She then lamented on how
she had to let Gerorgie go but though he was a good worker he had lost
his enthusiasm for his duties and he was starting to get saggy. Public
Service always needed good workers she said cheerily, gazing at her new
acquisition.
With a goodbye kiss to Auntie Val and admonishment from her that Gerry
had not yet been broken-in, I took Gerry's hand and we walked out into
the sunshine. We strolled casually towards Sissy Park and as we got
closer the street was becoming more crowded. The sissies got louder and
more exuberant as we approached the gates. In the Park they would be as
free as they would ever be in Nancyville. Along the other side of the
street many nude sissies with chastity devices and plugged were
hurriedly being escorted to Sissy Day Care adjacent to the Park. Their
owners needed to get to work or run errands without a sissy in tow or
had trysts with lovers where sissies were of no use. I produced Gerry's
pass and we were separated. He would have to check his clothes and since
this was his first time visiting the park be inspected and oriented to
the rules. I waited in anticipation of her exit from the building.
Gerry appeared even more delicious than I imagined, her hipbones
slightly apparent accentuating the softness of her belly descending to
her genitals. I was delighted that he was circumcised and though flaccid
he was larger than expected, larger than Georgie had been. This excited
me. His diamond earrings and choke had been removed and he was wearing a
pink plastic collar with "Gerry" stamped on it. This was a practical
matter as sissies in the Park especially on a day like this would be
getting wet. His face was slightly blushed; I am sure from what he had
been told in orientation. I took his hand and we started out.
Almost immediately a fine looking woman in a white lab coat and only a
short lab coat and spiked heels approached us. She noticed Gerry was new
and offered a free prostate exam. I willingly volunteered him mostly to
see his reaction. She took his hand and led him into a cordoned off
area, in full view of the public. She had him stand before a small
wooden table about 2' high and with her arm gently bent him forward
until his head rested on the table. She nudged his legs apart with her
foot and a service worker came up with a tray. She took a glove and
snapped it on her hand and dipped it into a jar of lubricant. She then
slowly worked the sissy's rosebud before burying her finger to the max.
I saw Gerry grimace. She told another worker with a clipboard that the
prostate was small and smooth, healthy. Without removing her finger she
asked me if she could take a sissy cream sample for her data research
and without hesitation I said of course. Still with her finger up the
sissy's bum, she helped him up onto the bench. He was now on all fours
and turning red in the face. The worker with the tray stepped forward
and she dipped her ungloved hand into the lubricant and began smearing
Gerry's sack with it. An excited crowd was forming to view the
procedure.
She slowly moved her hand up and down the boy's scrotum slowly and
rhythmically. She whispered something into his ear and Gerry started
moving back and forth onto her finger. She smiled and no longer moved
her hand but let the boy fuck her closed fist. I saw his fast shallow
breathing and his shoulders and breasts were turning red. He moved
faster and faster. Another worker was holding a small wide mouthed
beaker to the end of Gerry's penis and then -Spurt. The sissy came,
spurt after spurt filling the beaker. A sigh permeated the crowd and
applause broke out from the ladies and giggles from the sissies. The
Doctor finally pulled her finger out from his behind, held up the beaker
and remarked about the incredible volume, praising Gerry. A worker
cleaned the sissy and the Doctor helped him off the bench and gave him a
peck on the cheek. She told me I was fortunate to have such a fine
sissy.
We stopped at the refreshment stand to replenish Gerry's energy. Only
water, fat free skimmed milk and some low sugar fruit juices in plastic
sippy cups are available for sissies. No alcohol is allowed to sissies
in public. I had a large variety of beers, wines, liqueurs and mixed
drinks to choose from. I ordered a beer and a skimmed milk. The drinks
were served by a public service sissy, a sippy cup of milk and one rice
wafer and a stein of beer and Spanish nuts for me. The Nancyville
Authority is very strict on sissy diets and exercise. In public settings
sissys are allowed no meat, starches or sugars. Only Salads A, B, and C
are served in any restaurant to sissies. A is a lettuce based vegetable
salad, B is a fruit salad and C is a warm vegetable salad. No desserts.
In Sissy Day Care very restrictive meals are served to protect sissies
from gaining weight. Sissies are strenuously exercised in aerobic and
flexibility routines as stamina and flexibility are prized traits due to
the sexual nature of demands required of them. Weight training and
resistance training are strictly prohibited to sissies though their
owners regularly work out with this type of equipment. Sissy owners tend
to be quite strong and their sissies though fit are quite weak. Upon
entering Public Service all sissies are castrated so they need less
supervision. Privately owned sissies must be attended always by their
owner or surrogate owner (as I am with Gerry) and private owner may only
have two sissies or hire women to supervise more. One woman may only
supervise two sissies at most.
In the Public realm teams of castrated sissies are supervised by a woman
and an electronically collared worker may work on his own but is
remotely supervised. In the park there are many collared workers under
video surveillance. Subgroups of males are strength trained to do hard
physical labor such as delivery and construction work. They live in
barracks or in wards on the work site as in the Park. It is a
considerable expense to own a sissy. There are licensing fees, and
inspection fees and the laws protecting sissies from abuse such as being
left unattended in homes, caging is allowed for up to four hours.
Many women strive to own a sissy. That is why Day Care is so popular as
the sissy is fed and exercised to meet semiannual check ups. Sissies
give great pleasure to these women. They are trained to be excellent
cooks, to do housework and can lap pussy hours on end. They provide
entertainment in small settings. All sorts of perverse pleasure is
derived by controlling them and commanding them to do the most sordid
things to each other. Today I am having the pleasure of a fine sissy
under my command and it thrills me. I can hardly wait to get Gerry in
private. Aunt Val allows the benefit of certain sexual pleasures from
her sissy to me in her presence such as oral sex on my pussy and tits
but Val herself is even more gratifying than Gerry would be except for
extended sessions of carpet munching. More later about Nancyville
culture and history. Now I hear the siren song of the Sissy Carousel
calling.
I want Gerry to experience this carnival ride. Sissies are lined up for
the ride. The Carousel has 12 animal figures. Beautiful carved topless
females form the center with calliope music emanating, are calling the
sissies to ride the animals of the sea world. Arched Orcas, Dolphins,
Seahorses, Narwhales and other creatures make up the carousel from the
top of the creatures a saddle with a peg form the seat and there are
stirrups on the side for mounting the large enameled figurines. Gerry is
mounting a dolphin. I can see he is pretending to be seated from the
strain in his thighs and calves. He is really straining to keep from
seating himself on the peg, but as the Carousel starts to move the
stirrups drop and the sissy is now impaled firmly on the peg with no
traction to move up.
I saw his expression of surprise when the stirrups dropped. Some sissies
squealed as the Carousel turned faster and faster, the creatures moving
up and down. Gerry's eyes started to glaze over; I heard tell the pegs
vibrated. All the sissies were hard, several sissies shot their loads.
Gerry was fully extended but was trying desperately to maintain control
as he had been trained. The ride slowed and stopped. Gerry dismounted
still hard. As the sissies filed off the Carousel a team of service
workers hosed down and scrubbed it. The pegs were wiped to sterilize
them for the next group. The sissies went through a sort of car wash.
First they were soaped, then rinsed and then blow dried.
As they exited they were bent over a bench and inspected and smear of
lubricant was applied to their rosebuds with a gun. The stainless steel
nozzle sterilized after each application. Gerry was hyperventilating to
keep control when I took his hand and had him sit on a pegged bench. I
sat next to him. He seemed very distracted. I placed my hand on his
upper thigh letting my little finger caress his sack. That was too much.
He spurted half way into the path. Fortunately no women were walking by.
A service worker came forward with a bucket and cleaned the path and
then approached Gerry to clean him off. I heard the worker thank Gerry
for the spectacle, I recognized Georgie's voice. I looked to see how he
had changed. Obviously a piece of him was missing. But he had a crew cut
and had gained some weight probably from the hormones and drugs used to
make the workers docile and compliant. He recognized me and asked if
Gerry was my sissy. I told him yes not wanting to tell him Gerry was his
replacement. He said she was quite pretty and if it had been the old
days he would have fucked her silly. This was an insolent remark but
with all that happened to Georgie I let it pass.
He was spending too much time with us and a tall woman supervisor in a
blue uniform wanted to know what was going on. I told her I knew Georgie
before and we were talking. She rebuked #32 as she called him and told
me he was working and that his visiting hour was the first Sunday of the
month from 8PM to 9PM. Georgie said I am sure I'll see you mockingly.
The supervisor immediately tasered him and told him to report to closest
discipline station. Gerry was shocked to see all of this and tears
formed in her eyes. The supervisor then chastised me for fraternizing
with public servants and gave me a warning. Punishment for someone like
myself if found guilty would be to sexually service female supervisors
for an evening, an obvious incentive to find fault. I told her I was
sorry and it would not happen again, thinking how bitter her snatch
would taste.
I dried Gerry's tears and told him not to worry. We set out on our next
adventure. A dildo race was about to start. This was a contest inspired
by a late 20th century cartoonist named Kami Tora. There were ten long
benches with increasingly longer and wider dildoes spaced about 18
inches apart up the length of the bench, 12 in all. The contestants were
required to seat themselves on each one before proceeding to the next.
There were judges to make sure the sissies were completely seated before
moving on. A disqualification was worse than losing. A disqualified
contestant was bent over in a stock and all the other contestants fucked
him in order of their finish in the race.
The winner could choose any contestant after third place to fuck. The
third place finisher received a blowjob simultaneously from the winner's
choice. Second place finisher could choose any of the other losers for a
blow job. All the acts were publicly displayed. This was no contest for
Gerry to enter but I think we both enjoyed watching when the start horn
sounded and the contestants waddled up the benches and squatting over
each dildo. They moved really fast at first but then as the dildoes got
larger the race slowed. It practically stopped before the last two
enormous dildoes as the contestants hesitated before moving on. They had
no choice.
The audience groaned along with the contestants as they sat on the last
two dildoes. After the first three contestants finished the race was
called to the relief of the rest and to keep their bumholes a little
tighter for the winner. The losers moved over to a showing bench and got
on all fours for display and to be chosen as prizes for the finishers.
It was quite exciting to see. Many owners were letting their sissies
play with each other in the audience during the race. I think Gerry was
as distracted by viewing them as much as by the race. There was spurting
everywhere and service workers were all over cleaning up. Gerry had his
six inches standing straight out again. I pretended I didn't notice as
we moved on.
We stopped at another refreshment stand. It was warm out. I ordered
another beer and a juice for Gerry. Two women sitting near us were
holding hands and rubbing their knees together under the table. Their
sissies were standing drinking from their sissy cups both with hard-ons
from watching their mistresses. The women stopped and looked a little
embarrassed. They called over a woman supervisor and asked if their
sissies could be escorted to sissy Day Care. We overheard the women had
just met and wanted to retire to one of their flats without their
sissies. They pulled out chastity devices and butt plugs from their
purses, slapped their sissies' penises repeatedly until they softened
and locked them up. The sissies bent over and were plugged.
The matron attached leads to their collars and led them off. I told
Gerry that the women displayed selfish behavior because when you bring a
sissy to the park it should be his day. They should have at least let
the sissies wank each other off to get soft but of course women rule. I
was getting Gerry on my good side. Not that I needed to but I preferred
a willing sissy unlike Aunt Val who enjoyed confronting a rebellious
nature. I wasn't sure why she had acquired Gerry who unlike Georgie was
always testing authority and paying the consequences. Gerry seemed so
eager to please and obviously well trained. At the Park release was
allowed anywhere, anytime but he was still sporting his full erection
and I am sure was ready to spurt with the slightest extra stimulus. I
enjoyed seeing him holding back. I was sure he couldn't hold out much
longer. I was going to take him to Copulation Station next. Knowing he
didn't have his Breaking-In Ceremony yet I could not enter him but we
could watch. If he didn't blow his wad there, I would take him to
Masturbation Station and enter him. I doubt if he would make it to the
podium before giving up his sissy cream.
At Copulation Station sissies entered a large holding pen and were
herded into one of two tunnels where they filed in a single line. They
could not see anything but a light at the end. The lines were formed
randomly and they had no idea who they would be paired with. One sissy
from the right and left ascended the podium. A scantily clad female
referee tossed two coins if both came up heads the sissy to the right
would be the fuckee, if both came up tails the sissy to the left would
assume the position. If the coins were mixed, the referee would toss
again. On the podium there was a raised bed platform. The fuckee could
assume one of three positions, on all fours, on his back with his legs
spread and pulled back or in a fetal position.
The sissies had already been greased for either role in the tunnel and
in anticipation were almost always fully erect and ready by the time
they hit the stage. Rutting was almost immediate. The fucker was
required to withdraw and spurt on the fuckee and then lick him clean. It
was great fun to watch. I was holding Gerry's hand and it was hot and
sweaty. After watching several bouts, we moved on. He was taking short
deep breaths again. I knew he was ready to spurt when I entered him at
Masturbation Station. I saw him disappear in the tunnel and appear
several minutes later on stage with a tall dark skinned sissy with small
breast implants.
She was very exotic with sloe colored almond shaped eyes and large lips.
They both had six inch erections though the other girlyboy was thicker.
They were guided to center stage each by a young girl and were directed
to kiss and lick each others necks. They were pushed together and the
more experienced dark sissy did what came naturally and started rubbing
cock to cock. Both came simultaneously. She dropped to her knees and
licked Gerry clean. Gerry's hands were on her shoulders steadying
himself from fainting. The girl got up and gently guided Gerry to his
knees where he cleaned the Dark princess expertly. She turned to leave
the stage but Gerry held her back at the thighs and buried his head
between the girl's cheeks.
The audience gasped at the improvisation. The usherettes didn't quite
know what to do. The tall sissy didn't move forward, in fact she backed
up onto Gerry's tongue and performed a little wiggle. A Supervisor
appeared and pulled the sissies apart and they were led off stage to the
applause of the audience. When I met Gerry at the exit after his
cleaning I noticed his bottom was reddened and he told me the Supervisor
took him over her knee and spanked him. He told me she said she enjoyed
the show as much as anyone but she had to maintain rules in case there
was a complaint of independent sissy behavior. It was a mild spanking
and afterwards she kissed him. Gerry seemed proud. It was all quite
amusing. I really needed to find out more about this sissy of Auntie
Val. I was developing a great and inappropriate affection for him.
He was quite calm now after this third spurt of the day. I asked him
about his past. I knew Aunt Val had purchased him from a broker from the
outlands. He told me where he grew up men and women were equal in rights
and he was raised as a normal boy until age 12. He had only recently
discovered girls and masturbation. One day while walking home from
school, he was abducted and brought to a remote farm. He saw the men
being paid by an elderly woman with long silver-white hair dressed as a
man. He was stripped and quarantined in a small cage for several weeks.
He had lost track of time. He was collared; allowed out daily for
feeding from a bowl on the floor, exercised by being tethered to a
treadmill, bathed by one of two women dressed as nurses with their
garters showing from short dresses.
They were both well endowed and their breasts were straining to burst
out of their tight uniforms. He was taught to use a chamber pot and
squat like a girl in their presence. He was masturbated five times a day
sometimes while still in his cage. In the evening he was layed out on a
table and the nurses would open their blouses and let him suckle while
they wanked him. Otherwise he was completely isolated. He became
addicted to their company. They told him resistance was futile and that
if he obeyed and respected his superiors he would be well taken care of
otherwise he would be severely punished. He told me, he saw no reason to
resist yet. One day he was bathed and oiled in and out and seated at a
mirror. He hadn't seen himself in some time. His blond hair had grown
longer.
His hair was cut coiffed like the Dutch Boy ads he had seen. His skin
seemed lighter and so smooth. He thought he looked like a girl. A new
young girl only slightly older than him came into the room. She wore a
plain black short sleeve oriental dress with slits up the sides exposing
her thighs. She wore red brocaded satin slippers. Her face was made up
like an oriental porcelain doll with defined rouged circles on her
cheeks and a blood red heart shaped lips. She applied coloring to his
lips, eyes and cheeks, had him stand and reddened his breasts and
backside. His nails were clear lacquered and his leather collar was
removed and replaced with a satin choke with a bow on one side. He got
excited looking at himself being transformed.
The girl told him that was a good sign but he had to learn to control
himself and that he was never to touch himself-ever. She had him get on
all fours and wanked him into the chamber pot. She had him put on a
short silk dressing gown. He was then escorted through a long hall with
life size photographs of nude boys that looked very much like him. His
escort opened a door into a darkly lit room with an oriental carpets and
bronze sculptures of nude pubescent boys and girls in all sorts of
poses, paintings of orgies and all sorts of erotic art. He looked all
around trying to take all it in. He saw the two nurses, their white
uniforms glowing in the darkened room. He heard a voice, "Gerald, come
here sweetheart."
He followed the voice and saw between the nurses an old woman, as old as
his grandmother seated in a red leather upholstered chair. She was
wearing an open dressing gown like his and her saggy breasts were
exposed. She had her legs crossed sitting to one side. She had small
young girl's feet. She had long silver and white hair done up most
exquisitely. He stood in front of her. Gerry told me he was so scared
at this point he had a shriveled up penis .Gerry continued his story.
The old woman smiled at him and told him she had an eye on him since he
was eight and would be a perfect candidate for her training school. She
said he was such a lovely boy.
She opened his gown and sighed. She told him to turn around and he felt
her hand caressing his buttocks. He heard her say - Yes. Her hands
guided him around. She brought her hands down to his penis and caressed
it. It swelled immediately. She turned to the two nurses nodding
approvingly and told the young escort to bring him to her bedchamber. He
was escorted down a long hall and then up a set of narrow stairs. He
learned later these were the backstairs for the servants use. Again
oriental carpets on wooden floors dimly lit with sconces on the walls,
on the right was an ornate door with three carved naked women dancing in
a circle.
The young girl opened the door and he followed her in. A huge bed was
situated in the middle of the room with four carved posts and a canopy,
gauze curtains fell to the floor. On one side were two small steps and
an opening in the curtains. The young girl led him to the steps and took
his gown off and told him to lie on the bed on his back and wait for
Mistress Sabine. The ceiling of the canopy was mirrored but the lighting
was too dim to see more than his form. He heard some noise and the old
lady's voice telling Candy, the young girl to remove her clothes and
join them as she might need assistance with the virgin boy. By this time
his pole was sticking straight up. He saw Candy assisting the old woman
up the steps onto the bed.
Candy seemed flatchested for a girl. The woman guided her breast to his
mouth. He suckled hard at her nipple. It felt different from the full
breasted nurses but still very pleasant. She told Candy to handle his
first spurt, and he felt a warm wetness engulf his member. He could not
believe his masturbatory dreams had come true and he was actually
fucking a girl. Then he felt a tongue swirling around his cock and teeth
gently nibbling. He realized he was getting a blow job not a fuck. He
felt a finger around his anus. In it went.
Het told met he shot his load immediately. He heard the Mistress
whisper, "Fast and quick like a jackrabbit, but you will learn." Candy
was licking him clean and the Mistress told her to kiss him. He opened
my eyes to see her beautiful wet lips approaching with his mouth
slightly open, she plunged her tongue deep inside. He tasted slimy sperm
and began to choke. She sucked his tongue back into her mouth and she
pulled him over on top of her when he felt a boner and realized he was
soft. He pulled back. "You're a boy." Yes, the Mistress said but more
than just a boy. She told him not to resist and to think how much
pleasure he had just received. She said Candy would take him to where
his wet dreams took him. She told him to kiss Candy's cock. "But I am a
boy," he persisted. "Yes, but you can become so much more than a lovely
boy if you let yourself." She prodded his head to Candy's cockstand,
with tears in his eyes he sucked on his first cock. Mistress Sabine
urged him on, telling him how much pleasure he was giving Candy and that
Candy was experiencing wave after wave of near-orgasm, that women could
experience orgasm after orgasm but the nearest men could achieve was
near orgasm until they spent. She was telling him as Candy arched and
pulled back that Candy was trained not to spurt until ordered to do so
and that he would be trained likewise.
She told him to get ready to swallow as much as he could and told Candy
she could let go. He tried hard to swallow as mush as he could but he
gagged as he swallowed and drooled. Mistress Sabine congratulated him
and said he did well for his first time. He was still crying from mixed
emotions of shame and accomplishment. She told him to lick Candy clean
and that he must always clean up after himself. On all fours he was
licking Candy's belly and the Mistress moved over her face and lowered
herself onto Candy's mouth and rocked back and forth with a low chant of
moaning. She took his hands to her breasts and then she pulled him up
and kissed him with her tongue plunging deep to the back of his throat.
To his disbelief he was getting hard again with this ancient woman. She
had him lie down and transferred her slit from Candy's to his mouth. It
was wet and hot.
He went on telling me this exciting tale. He naturally slipped his
tongue in as far as it could reach. He felt Candy's mouth on his cock
again and bucked and arched and licked and sucked. It took longer but
still he could not help himself and spurted. He felt Candy swallowing
every last drop. He slowed down with his tongue but felt a finger
entering him. He didn't know whose nor did he care. Mistress Sabine told
him it was not over and just because he had come he must continue giving
pleasure until told enough. He kept licking and plunging his tongue in
her snatch for what seemed like an hour when she finally dropped off his
face and let out a sigh. Candy was on her other side and took his hand
and laid it on Mistress Sabine's pussy along with hers. He heard the
steady breathing of sleep and fell asleep himself.
This is how he first learned that pleasuring women was to become his
primary purpose. Later he learned the alternatives as well. Still later
he learned many things from Mistress Sabine's schooling before being
purchased by Auntie Val and brought to Nancyville. Gerry told me he had
1001 stories but that I probably wouldn't be interested in listening to
a sissy like him. I didn't tell him but his story excited me and I did
want to hear more of his tales as much I wanted to tell him tales of
Nancyville.
THE END
By Lise Blonde
take her to the Nancyville Sissy Park for the afternoon. Aunt Val
retired and donated Georgie her old sissy to Public Service. It was a
wonderful warm and sunny day for a visit to the Park. On the way to
Auntie's sissies and their owners were out promenading and shopping all
along the way. No vehicles are allowed in this section of Nancyville
except for the little electric trolley with several open cars in tow.
There was quite a bustle in the warm weather. The sissies for the most
part wore either miniskirts or hot pants with alter tops, or tubetops,
some had sports bras, and a few wore open blouses tied at the waist.
Several wore no tops. One caught my eye because of his pert puffy
breasts. Obviously his owner was showing him off. As always there were
sissies with no clothes at all except for sandals. They were usually
being punished and forced to parade around naked in the shopping area.
They almost always had reddened bottoms and walked with their heads down
in shame.
I walked up the steps to Auntie's townhouse and rang the bell. The door
opened and Auntie was standing, super fashionably dressed as always with
her arms out wanting a hug. She pulled me into her large bosom, grabbed
my behind and gave me a wet kiss before forcing her tongue into my
mouth. She knew this turned me on and there would be no time to proceed
to the intended conclusion of such an introduction. She was a big tease.
Letting me go she thanked me profusely for taking Gerry off her hands
for the afternoon. Since he was new she did not want to leave him in
Sissy Day Care yet and thought it too cruel to keep him caged up for the
day.
I heard the door close, turned and saw Aunties new perfect Sissy. He was
terribly cute, thin and so young looking in his plaid, pleated
miniskirt with a tailored open silk blouse. Just three buttons cinched
it above the navel. He was so delicate, his boy breasts and stomach so
softly defined. Strong musculature is frowned upon in a sissy. He was
wearing knee socks and saddle shoes. He had diamond stud earrings and a
diamond choke that made his alabaster skin look translucent. I could not
detect even a hint of makeup. His pale blue eyes and short blond pixie
style hair made the perfect schoolgirl.
Aunt Val told him to show me his panties and he lifted his dress to show
me his pearly white silk panties with Souvenir of Nancyville Sissy Park
embroidered on them. She said she still had them from the first time
she had brought Georgie there. I could see Gerry's little package
testing the stretch of the panties. I would soon be seeing everything as
sissies were allowed no clothing in the Park. She then lamented on how
she had to let Gerorgie go but though he was a good worker he had lost
his enthusiasm for his duties and he was starting to get saggy. Public
Service always needed good workers she said cheerily, gazing at her new
acquisition.
With a goodbye kiss to Auntie Val and admonishment from her that Gerry
had not yet been broken-in, I took Gerry's hand and we walked out into
the sunshine. We strolled casually towards Sissy Park and as we got
closer the street was becoming more crowded. The sissies got louder and
more exuberant as we approached the gates. In the Park they would be as
free as they would ever be in Nancyville. Along the other side of the
street many nude sissies with chastity devices and plugged were
hurriedly being escorted to Sissy Day Care adjacent to the Park. Their
owners needed to get to work or run errands without a sissy in tow or
had trysts with lovers where sissies were of no use. I produced Gerry's
pass and we were separated. He would have to check his clothes and since
this was his first time visiting the park be inspected and oriented to
the rules. I waited in anticipation of her exit from the building.
Gerry appeared even more delicious than I imagined, her hipbones
slightly apparent accentuating the softness of her belly descending to
her genitals. I was delighted that he was circumcised and though flaccid
he was larger than expected, larger than Georgie had been. This excited
me. His diamond earrings and choke had been removed and he was wearing a
pink plastic collar with "Gerry" stamped on it. This was a practical
matter as sissies in the Park especially on a day like this would be
getting wet. His face was slightly blushed; I am sure from what he had
been told in orientation. I took his hand and we started out.
Almost immediately a fine looking woman in a white lab coat and only a
short lab coat and spiked heels approached us. She noticed Gerry was new
and offered a free prostate exam. I willingly volunteered him mostly to
see his reaction. She took his hand and led him into a cordoned off
area, in full view of the public. She had him stand before a small
wooden table about 2' high and with her arm gently bent him forward
until his head rested on the table. She nudged his legs apart with her
foot and a service worker came up with a tray. She took a glove and
snapped it on her hand and dipped it into a jar of lubricant. She then
slowly worked the sissy's rosebud before burying her finger to the max.
I saw Gerry grimace. She told another worker with a clipboard that the
prostate was small and smooth, healthy. Without removing her finger she
asked me if she could take a sissy cream sample for her data research
and without hesitation I said of course. Still with her finger up the
sissy's bum, she helped him up onto the bench. He was now on all fours
and turning red in the face. The worker with the tray stepped forward
and she dipped her ungloved hand into the lubricant and began smearing
Gerry's sack with it. An excited crowd was forming to view the
procedure.
She slowly moved her hand up and down the boy's scrotum slowly and
rhythmically. She whispered something into his ear and Gerry started
moving back and forth onto her finger. She smiled and no longer moved
her hand but let the boy fuck her closed fist. I saw his fast shallow
breathing and his shoulders and breasts were turning red. He moved
faster and faster. Another worker was holding a small wide mouthed
beaker to the end of Gerry's penis and then -Spurt. The sissy came,
spurt after spurt filling the beaker. A sigh permeated the crowd and
applause broke out from the ladies and giggles from the sissies. The
Doctor finally pulled her finger out from his behind, held up the beaker
and remarked about the incredible volume, praising Gerry. A worker
cleaned the sissy and the Doctor helped him off the bench and gave him a
peck on the cheek. She told me I was fortunate to have such a fine
sissy.
We stopped at the refreshment stand to replenish Gerry's energy. Only
water, fat free skimmed milk and some low sugar fruit juices in plastic
sippy cups are available for sissies. No alcohol is allowed to sissies
in public. I had a large variety of beers, wines, liqueurs and mixed
drinks to choose from. I ordered a beer and a skimmed milk. The drinks
were served by a public service sissy, a sippy cup of milk and one rice
wafer and a stein of beer and Spanish nuts for me. The Nancyville
Authority is very strict on sissy diets and exercise. In public settings
sissys are allowed no meat, starches or sugars. Only Salads A, B, and C
are served in any restaurant to sissies. A is a lettuce based vegetable
salad, B is a fruit salad and C is a warm vegetable salad. No desserts.
In Sissy Day Care very restrictive meals are served to protect sissies
from gaining weight. Sissies are strenuously exercised in aerobic and
flexibility routines as stamina and flexibility are prized traits due to
the sexual nature of demands required of them. Weight training and
resistance training are strictly prohibited to sissies though their
owners regularly work out with this type of equipment. Sissy owners tend
to be quite strong and their sissies though fit are quite weak. Upon
entering Public Service all sissies are castrated so they need less
supervision. Privately owned sissies must be attended always by their
owner or surrogate owner (as I am with Gerry) and private owner may only
have two sissies or hire women to supervise more. One woman may only
supervise two sissies at most.
In the Public realm teams of castrated sissies are supervised by a woman
and an electronically collared worker may work on his own but is
remotely supervised. In the park there are many collared workers under
video surveillance. Subgroups of males are strength trained to do hard
physical labor such as delivery and construction work. They live in
barracks or in wards on the work site as in the Park. It is a
considerable expense to own a sissy. There are licensing fees, and
inspection fees and the laws protecting sissies from abuse such as being
left unattended in homes, caging is allowed for up to four hours.
Many women strive to own a sissy. That is why Day Care is so popular as
the sissy is fed and exercised to meet semiannual check ups. Sissies
give great pleasure to these women. They are trained to be excellent
cooks, to do housework and can lap pussy hours on end. They provide
entertainment in small settings. All sorts of perverse pleasure is
derived by controlling them and commanding them to do the most sordid
things to each other. Today I am having the pleasure of a fine sissy
under my command and it thrills me. I can hardly wait to get Gerry in
private. Aunt Val allows the benefit of certain sexual pleasures from
her sissy to me in her presence such as oral sex on my pussy and tits
but Val herself is even more gratifying than Gerry would be except for
extended sessions of carpet munching. More later about Nancyville
culture and history. Now I hear the siren song of the Sissy Carousel
calling.
I want Gerry to experience this carnival ride. Sissies are lined up for
the ride. The Carousel has 12 animal figures. Beautiful carved topless
females form the center with calliope music emanating, are calling the
sissies to ride the animals of the sea world. Arched Orcas, Dolphins,
Seahorses, Narwhales and other creatures make up the carousel from the
top of the creatures a saddle with a peg form the seat and there are
stirrups on the side for mounting the large enameled figurines. Gerry is
mounting a dolphin. I can see he is pretending to be seated from the
strain in his thighs and calves. He is really straining to keep from
seating himself on the peg, but as the Carousel starts to move the
stirrups drop and the sissy is now impaled firmly on the peg with no
traction to move up.
I saw his expression of surprise when the stirrups dropped. Some sissies
squealed as the Carousel turned faster and faster, the creatures moving
up and down. Gerry's eyes started to glaze over; I heard tell the pegs
vibrated. All the sissies were hard, several sissies shot their loads.
Gerry was fully extended but was trying desperately to maintain control
as he had been trained. The ride slowed and stopped. Gerry dismounted
still hard. As the sissies filed off the Carousel a team of service
workers hosed down and scrubbed it. The pegs were wiped to sterilize
them for the next group. The sissies went through a sort of car wash.
First they were soaped, then rinsed and then blow dried.
As they exited they were bent over a bench and inspected and smear of
lubricant was applied to their rosebuds with a gun. The stainless steel
nozzle sterilized after each application. Gerry was hyperventilating to
keep control when I took his hand and had him sit on a pegged bench. I
sat next to him. He seemed very distracted. I placed my hand on his
upper thigh letting my little finger caress his sack. That was too much.
He spurted half way into the path. Fortunately no women were walking by.
A service worker came forward with a bucket and cleaned the path and
then approached Gerry to clean him off. I heard the worker thank Gerry
for the spectacle, I recognized Georgie's voice. I looked to see how he
had changed. Obviously a piece of him was missing. But he had a crew cut
and had gained some weight probably from the hormones and drugs used to
make the workers docile and compliant. He recognized me and asked if
Gerry was my sissy. I told him yes not wanting to tell him Gerry was his
replacement. He said she was quite pretty and if it had been the old
days he would have fucked her silly. This was an insolent remark but
with all that happened to Georgie I let it pass.
He was spending too much time with us and a tall woman supervisor in a
blue uniform wanted to know what was going on. I told her I knew Georgie
before and we were talking. She rebuked #32 as she called him and told
me he was working and that his visiting hour was the first Sunday of the
month from 8PM to 9PM. Georgie said I am sure I'll see you mockingly.
The supervisor immediately tasered him and told him to report to closest
discipline station. Gerry was shocked to see all of this and tears
formed in her eyes. The supervisor then chastised me for fraternizing
with public servants and gave me a warning. Punishment for someone like
myself if found guilty would be to sexually service female supervisors
for an evening, an obvious incentive to find fault. I told her I was
sorry and it would not happen again, thinking how bitter her snatch
would taste.
I dried Gerry's tears and told him not to worry. We set out on our next
adventure. A dildo race was about to start. This was a contest inspired
by a late 20th century cartoonist named Kami Tora. There were ten long
benches with increasingly longer and wider dildoes spaced about 18
inches apart up the length of the bench, 12 in all. The contestants were
required to seat themselves on each one before proceeding to the next.
There were judges to make sure the sissies were completely seated before
moving on. A disqualification was worse than losing. A disqualified
contestant was bent over in a stock and all the other contestants fucked
him in order of their finish in the race.
The winner could choose any contestant after third place to fuck. The
third place finisher received a blowjob simultaneously from the winner's
choice. Second place finisher could choose any of the other losers for a
blow job. All the acts were publicly displayed. This was no contest for
Gerry to enter but I think we both enjoyed watching when the start horn
sounded and the contestants waddled up the benches and squatting over
each dildo. They moved really fast at first but then as the dildoes got
larger the race slowed. It practically stopped before the last two
enormous dildoes as the contestants hesitated before moving on. They had
no choice.
The audience groaned along with the contestants as they sat on the last
two dildoes. After the first three contestants finished the race was
called to the relief of the rest and to keep their bumholes a little
tighter for the winner. The losers moved over to a showing bench and got
on all fours for display and to be chosen as prizes for the finishers.
It was quite exciting to see. Many owners were letting their sissies
play with each other in the audience during the race. I think Gerry was
as distracted by viewing them as much as by the race. There was spurting
everywhere and service workers were all over cleaning up. Gerry had his
six inches standing straight out again. I pretended I didn't notice as
we moved on.
We stopped at another refreshment stand. It was warm out. I ordered
another beer and a juice for Gerry. Two women sitting near us were
holding hands and rubbing their knees together under the table. Their
sissies were standing drinking from their sissy cups both with hard-ons
from watching their mistresses. The women stopped and looked a little
embarrassed. They called over a woman supervisor and asked if their
sissies could be escorted to sissy Day Care. We overheard the women had
just met and wanted to retire to one of their flats without their
sissies. They pulled out chastity devices and butt plugs from their
purses, slapped their sissies' penises repeatedly until they softened
and locked them up. The sissies bent over and were plugged.
The matron attached leads to their collars and led them off. I told
Gerry that the women displayed selfish behavior because when you bring a
sissy to the park it should be his day. They should have at least let
the sissies wank each other off to get soft but of course women rule. I
was getting Gerry on my good side. Not that I needed to but I preferred
a willing sissy unlike Aunt Val who enjoyed confronting a rebellious
nature. I wasn't sure why she had acquired Gerry who unlike Georgie was
always testing authority and paying the consequences. Gerry seemed so
eager to please and obviously well trained. At the Park release was
allowed anywhere, anytime but he was still sporting his full erection
and I am sure was ready to spurt with the slightest extra stimulus. I
enjoyed seeing him holding back. I was sure he couldn't hold out much
longer. I was going to take him to Copulation Station next. Knowing he
didn't have his Breaking-In Ceremony yet I could not enter him but we
could watch. If he didn't blow his wad there, I would take him to
Masturbation Station and enter him. I doubt if he would make it to the
podium before giving up his sissy cream.
At Copulation Station sissies entered a large holding pen and were
herded into one of two tunnels where they filed in a single line. They
could not see anything but a light at the end. The lines were formed
randomly and they had no idea who they would be paired with. One sissy
from the right and left ascended the podium. A scantily clad female
referee tossed two coins if both came up heads the sissy to the right
would be the fuckee, if both came up tails the sissy to the left would
assume the position. If the coins were mixed, the referee would toss
again. On the podium there was a raised bed platform. The fuckee could
assume one of three positions, on all fours, on his back with his legs
spread and pulled back or in a fetal position.
The sissies had already been greased for either role in the tunnel and
in anticipation were almost always fully erect and ready by the time
they hit the stage. Rutting was almost immediate. The fucker was
required to withdraw and spurt on the fuckee and then lick him clean. It
was great fun to watch. I was holding Gerry's hand and it was hot and
sweaty. After watching several bouts, we moved on. He was taking short
deep breaths again. I knew he was ready to spurt when I entered him at
Masturbation Station. I saw him disappear in the tunnel and appear
several minutes later on stage with a tall dark skinned sissy with small
breast implants.
She was very exotic with sloe colored almond shaped eyes and large lips.
They both had six inch erections though the other girlyboy was thicker.
They were guided to center stage each by a young girl and were directed
to kiss and lick each others necks. They were pushed together and the
more experienced dark sissy did what came naturally and started rubbing
cock to cock. Both came simultaneously. She dropped to her knees and
licked Gerry clean. Gerry's hands were on her shoulders steadying
himself from fainting. The girl got up and gently guided Gerry to his
knees where he cleaned the Dark princess expertly. She turned to leave
the stage but Gerry held her back at the thighs and buried his head
between the girl's cheeks.
The audience gasped at the improvisation. The usherettes didn't quite
know what to do. The tall sissy didn't move forward, in fact she backed
up onto Gerry's tongue and performed a little wiggle. A Supervisor
appeared and pulled the sissies apart and they were led off stage to the
applause of the audience. When I met Gerry at the exit after his
cleaning I noticed his bottom was reddened and he told me the Supervisor
took him over her knee and spanked him. He told me she said she enjoyed
the show as much as anyone but she had to maintain rules in case there
was a complaint of independent sissy behavior. It was a mild spanking
and afterwards she kissed him. Gerry seemed proud. It was all quite
amusing. I really needed to find out more about this sissy of Auntie
Val. I was developing a great and inappropriate affection for him.
He was quite calm now after this third spurt of the day. I asked him
about his past. I knew Aunt Val had purchased him from a broker from the
outlands. He told me where he grew up men and women were equal in rights
and he was raised as a normal boy until age 12. He had only recently
discovered girls and masturbation. One day while walking home from
school, he was abducted and brought to a remote farm. He saw the men
being paid by an elderly woman with long silver-white hair dressed as a
man. He was stripped and quarantined in a small cage for several weeks.
He had lost track of time. He was collared; allowed out daily for
feeding from a bowl on the floor, exercised by being tethered to a
treadmill, bathed by one of two women dressed as nurses with their
garters showing from short dresses.
They were both well endowed and their breasts were straining to burst
out of their tight uniforms. He was taught to use a chamber pot and
squat like a girl in their presence. He was masturbated five times a day
sometimes while still in his cage. In the evening he was layed out on a
table and the nurses would open their blouses and let him suckle while
they wanked him. Otherwise he was completely isolated. He became
addicted to their company. They told him resistance was futile and that
if he obeyed and respected his superiors he would be well taken care of
otherwise he would be severely punished. He told me, he saw no reason to
resist yet. One day he was bathed and oiled in and out and seated at a
mirror. He hadn't seen himself in some time. His blond hair had grown
longer.
His hair was cut coiffed like the Dutch Boy ads he had seen. His skin
seemed lighter and so smooth. He thought he looked like a girl. A new
young girl only slightly older than him came into the room. She wore a
plain black short sleeve oriental dress with slits up the sides exposing
her thighs. She wore red brocaded satin slippers. Her face was made up
like an oriental porcelain doll with defined rouged circles on her
cheeks and a blood red heart shaped lips. She applied coloring to his
lips, eyes and cheeks, had him stand and reddened his breasts and
backside. His nails were clear lacquered and his leather collar was
removed and replaced with a satin choke with a bow on one side. He got
excited looking at himself being transformed.
The girl told him that was a good sign but he had to learn to control
himself and that he was never to touch himself-ever. She had him get on
all fours and wanked him into the chamber pot. She had him put on a
short silk dressing gown. He was then escorted through a long hall with
life size photographs of nude boys that looked very much like him. His
escort opened a door into a darkly lit room with an oriental carpets and
bronze sculptures of nude pubescent boys and girls in all sorts of
poses, paintings of orgies and all sorts of erotic art. He looked all
around trying to take all it in. He saw the two nurses, their white
uniforms glowing in the darkened room. He heard a voice, "Gerald, come
here sweetheart."
He followed the voice and saw between the nurses an old woman, as old as
his grandmother seated in a red leather upholstered chair. She was
wearing an open dressing gown like his and her saggy breasts were
exposed. She had her legs crossed sitting to one side. She had small
young girl's feet. She had long silver and white hair done up most
exquisitely. He stood in front of her. Gerry told me he was so scared
at this point he had a shriveled up penis .Gerry continued his story.
The old woman smiled at him and told him she had an eye on him since he
was eight and would be a perfect candidate for her training school. She
said he was such a lovely boy.
She opened his gown and sighed. She told him to turn around and he felt
her hand caressing his buttocks. He heard her say - Yes. Her hands
guided him around. She brought her hands down to his penis and caressed
it. It swelled immediately. She turned to the two nurses nodding
approvingly and told the young escort to bring him to her bedchamber. He
was escorted down a long hall and then up a set of narrow stairs. He
learned later these were the backstairs for the servants use. Again
oriental carpets on wooden floors dimly lit with sconces on the walls,
on the right was an ornate door with three carved naked women dancing in
a circle.
The young girl opened the door and he followed her in. A huge bed was
situated in the middle of the room with four carved posts and a canopy,
gauze curtains fell to the floor. On one side were two small steps and
an opening in the curtains. The young girl led him to the steps and took
his gown off and told him to lie on the bed on his back and wait for
Mistress Sabine. The ceiling of the canopy was mirrored but the lighting
was too dim to see more than his form. He heard some noise and the old
lady's voice telling Candy, the young girl to remove her clothes and
join them as she might need assistance with the virgin boy. By this time
his pole was sticking straight up. He saw Candy assisting the old woman
up the steps onto the bed.
Candy seemed flatchested for a girl. The woman guided her breast to his
mouth. He suckled hard at her nipple. It felt different from the full
breasted nurses but still very pleasant. She told Candy to handle his
first spurt, and he felt a warm wetness engulf his member. He could not
believe his masturbatory dreams had come true and he was actually
fucking a girl. Then he felt a tongue swirling around his cock and teeth
gently nibbling. He realized he was getting a blow job not a fuck. He
felt a finger around his anus. In it went.
Het told met he shot his load immediately. He heard the Mistress
whisper, "Fast and quick like a jackrabbit, but you will learn." Candy
was licking him clean and the Mistress told her to kiss him. He opened
my eyes to see her beautiful wet lips approaching with his mouth
slightly open, she plunged her tongue deep inside. He tasted slimy sperm
and began to choke. She sucked his tongue back into her mouth and she
pulled him over on top of her when he felt a boner and realized he was
soft. He pulled back. "You're a boy." Yes, the Mistress said but more
than just a boy. She told him not to resist and to think how much
pleasure he had just received. She said Candy would take him to where
his wet dreams took him. She told him to kiss Candy's cock. "But I am a
boy," he persisted. "Yes, but you can become so much more than a lovely
boy if you let yourself." She prodded his head to Candy's cockstand,
with tears in his eyes he sucked on his first cock. Mistress Sabine
urged him on, telling him how much pleasure he was giving Candy and that
Candy was experiencing wave after wave of near-orgasm, that women could
experience orgasm after orgasm but the nearest men could achieve was
near orgasm until they spent. She was telling him as Candy arched and
pulled back that Candy was trained not to spurt until ordered to do so
and that he would be trained likewise.
She told him to get ready to swallow as much as he could and told Candy
she could let go. He tried hard to swallow as mush as he could but he
gagged as he swallowed and drooled. Mistress Sabine congratulated him
and said he did well for his first time. He was still crying from mixed
emotions of shame and accomplishment. She told him to lick Candy clean
and that he must always clean up after himself. On all fours he was
licking Candy's belly and the Mistress moved over her face and lowered
herself onto Candy's mouth and rocked back and forth with a low chant of
moaning. She took his hands to her breasts and then she pulled him up
and kissed him with her tongue plunging deep to the back of his throat.
To his disbelief he was getting hard again with this ancient woman. She
had him lie down and transferred her slit from Candy's to his mouth. It
was wet and hot.
He went on telling me this exciting tale. He naturally slipped his
tongue in as far as it could reach. He felt Candy's mouth on his cock
again and bucked and arched and licked and sucked. It took longer but
still he could not help himself and spurted. He felt Candy swallowing
every last drop. He slowed down with his tongue but felt a finger
entering him. He didn't know whose nor did he care. Mistress Sabine told
him it was not over and just because he had come he must continue giving
pleasure until told enough. He kept licking and plunging his tongue in
her snatch for what seemed like an hour when she finally dropped off his
face and let out a sigh. Candy was on her other side and took his hand
and laid it on Mistress Sabine's pussy along with hers. He heard the
steady breathing of sleep and fell asleep himself.
This is how he first learned that pleasuring women was to become his
primary purpose. Later he learned the alternatives as well. Still later
he learned many things from Mistress Sabine's schooling before being
purchased by Auntie Val and brought to Nancyville. Gerry told me he had
1001 stories but that I probably wouldn't be interested in listening to
a sissy like him. I didn't tell him but his story excited me and I did
want to hear more of his tales as much I wanted to tell him tales of
Nancyville.
THE END
By Lise Blonde
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