If you are a not very masculine 18 year old male, you should fear the 11.00 pm knock on the door. It'll probably be the Sissy Service with a warrant for your feminization!

You’ve been drafted, Girlie!

by kandijayne

It’s almost 11.00 pm. From where our unmarked, darkened van is parked we can see the light still on in the mark’s bedroom.

“It’s watching porn movies,” says Danni the IT expert through our earpieces. She has hacked into the mark’s home computer, just as she had previously hacked into its school records.

“Porn movies?”

“Yeah, shemale porn movies.”

“Ooh, p’raps it wants to star in shemale porn?” suggests Sally. We all giggle. In the future it will be given every opportunity to do so.

At this stage in the operation we always refer to the mark as ‘it’. No longer male in our eyes, but not yet started on the long journey to femininity. Not for a few minutes anyway.

“Right,” I say, “it’s 11.00. Everybody ready?”

“Yeah, A-OK!” “Right on!” from Sally and Kylee.

“Check, mistress.” from Felicity.

I glance in the van’s mirror. My domino mask is on straight, and my lips, deep scarlet, contrast well with the glossy black of my jumpsuit.

“Then let’s go, go, go, girls!”

I bang on the front door; three sharp double raps, wait 10 seconds, another three. I am ready for any possible trouble. At this stage it usually comes in the shape of macho fathers in denial about their offspring’s masculinity (lack of), or overprotective brothers. But a scratch on the face and the drugs from my nails will have them out like a light, and sleeping peacefully for several hours. Oh, and one of my spiked heels jabbed down onto a foot can be painfully disabling. Yes, I can take care of myself if necessary.

I rap again. From inside: “Okay, okay, I’m coming already!” There is the sound of bolts being drawn back. “Sheesh, who the heck at this time…”

The front door opens, and I am immediately halfway over the threshold, preventing it from being closed.

“Lieutenant Lorelei, SS.” I flash my ID. “I have a warrant for the detention and reassignment of your ‘son’, Jason Jablonsky.” I pause long enough before the word son to indicate that it’s in quote marks.

“Humph. Better come in.” No, there won’t be any problems with this one. It’s almost as if he was expecting us.

Actually I am in already. Sally, Kylee and Felicity follow.

“Who is it, Steve? Oh…!” Mrs Jablonsky has come into the hall, and her hand flies to her mouth as soon as she sees us.

“Oh, no, no, please, not my boy!”

She knows just by looking at us who we are, what organisation we’re from. I present as quite striking. I’m tall (for a sissy) and slim, but with curves in all the right places, and my tight-fitting black leather jumpsuit emphasises them. The stiletto heels on my boots make me even taller. With my black hair I look rather like Catwoman without the cat ears. Kylee has tried to get me to wear cat ears out on ops, but I haven’t taken her up on that. Her alternative suggestion of deely boppers earned her a good spanking.

Sally and Kylee could be twins. They’re both blondes with short tight curls, on top of which sit black baseball caps, bearing in pink the Sissy Service logo: entwined Mars and Venus, male and female symbols. They both wear black polo shirts, filled nicely with 38C boobs (mine are only 36B but, hey, I’m not jealous), and tight black leather miniskirts and black boots. They’ve both unholstered their revolvers.

Felicity looks more like a conventional sissy. She’s basically here to carry the bag that holds our equipment. Her Lolita-style dress is pink, with layers and layers of frills and ruffles, and comes to just below the knee. White ankle socks and Mary Janes complete her ensemble. Her brown hair is done in ringlets down both sides of her sweet face, with white and red ribbons entwined in it.

We all wear masks, domino style. While mine, Sally’s and Kylee’s are black, to match our uniforms, Felicity’s is pink, to match her dress.
Anyway:

“Oh, no, no, no! Please, not my boy!”

“Ma’am, do you know what ‘your boy’ is doing now? He’s watching porn on his computer. And when was the last time he took part in a ball game? No, she’s (I emphasise the word) not your boy any longer. The next time you see her, she’ll be your sissy girlie daughter.”

With a nod of my head I gesture to Sally and Kylee. They push past the Jablonskys and dash up the stairs. I’m never quite sure how they can dash in those tight skirts, but dash they do. They kick the bedroom door down and burst in. We hear “Freeze!” in Sally’s soprano.

“Steve, do something!”

Mr Jablonsky attempts to comfort his wife.

“Lorna honey, it’s all official. There’s nothing we can do.” Yes, he’s been expecting this. He hasn’t even asked to see the warrant.

I saunter to the stairs and climb them elegantly, taking my time. Style is everything! Felicity follows with her bag.

I step through the bedroom doorway. The mark has indeed frozen, like the proverbial rabbit caught in a truck’s head lights.

Sally and Kylee are both holding their revolvers, their pink day-glo revolvers, two handed, pointing at the mark. This is mostly for show, to increase the fear factor. The Service doesn’t actually kill people, usually. If necessary they will shoot darts that will disable for a period, just like the drugs in my nails.

The mark sees me for the first time, and I see a flicker of fear cross its face. Good.

“Jessi Jablonsky, I have a warrant for your feminization. I must ask you to remove your clothes. All of them. Now.”

“I, er, oh heck, I – this has gotta be a mistake! My name isn’t Jessi!”

I smile wickedly. “It is now. There are two ways we can do this. Either you obey my orders, completely, and start stripping off immediately. Or my officers here can rip your clothes off for you. And – other things. They’d enjoy doing that, I guarantee. Now, which is it to be, Jessi?”

“Oh, fuckin’ shit, I…”

In two strides I cross the room and slap her face with the flat of my hand.

“Never, ever use such language again! If sissies are foul-mouthed they will be punished for it! That includes you! Now strip!”

Slowly, reluctantly, she does so. First the usual teenage male uniform of logo’d teeshirt and ragged jeans. Her fingers fumble nervously with the zip. Under the jeans a pair of boxers. And under the boxers – Ah ha! She’s wearing a pair of very delicate, black lacy panties. She blushes with shame as they’re revealed. I know what they are. They’re her mother’s, and Mrs Jablonsky hasn’t missed them yet. Hasn’t missed them, because they’re only for very special occasions. Jessi thought she could put them back before mom noticed.

“Socks as well,” I say.

Soon Jessi is standing there naked. She’s scrawny, with very little growth of hair on her torso or her face. This is generally a good sign for a sissy, though it’s not always the case. Danni for example was hairy and overweight. A very severe regime of diet, exercise and hormone therapy was necessary before she attained her present smooth, hour-glass figure.

I read Jessi her rights. I love this bit. Basically she hasn’t got any.

“By a decision of the Gender Determination Board, and under the signed authority of a Judge, you have been drafted by the Sissy Service to be reassigned as a girlie. You, Jessi Jablonsky, will be detained at a Re-education Centre until your transition has been completed.

You have the right to appeal this decision within 48 hours of written notification or registration at a Re-education Centre, whichever is the sooner. However I must warn you that if such appeal is refused you will be subject to a severe spanking, among other things. Physical and mental training programs will not be put on hold pending such appeal. Do you wish to say anything?”

“I – er -” There’s a catch in her voice.

“No? Good! Turn round!” I say sharply.

Nervously she does so. I snap the cuffs that Felicity has handed to me onto her wrists. Sally and Kylee re-holster their revolvers.

“Bend over your bed!” I order, with a sharp slap to her butt. “Do it!”

With a little whimper she does so. If she’s been watching the right sort of porn, she’ll have some idea of what’s coming next. Sally snaps on the thin rubber gloves from Felicity’s bag, and parts our draftee’s ass cheeks. Jessi whimpers again, and tenses. Kylee stands ready to hold her down if necessary.

“She’s very tight.”

I bend down close to Jessi’s ear and murmur almost seductively “This won’t hurt. Much. But you need to relax. Don’t tighten up. It’s only a couple of fingers. Don’t fight them, let them in. It’ll be much easier if you do.”

“That’s better. Got three in.”

Sally withdraws her fingers and takes the suppository from Felicity, who giggles. I know she enjoys this bit.

Sally unwraps the suppository and places it against the draftee’s ass. It’s soft and malleable and goes in fairly easily. Sally pushes it up as far as it will go. There’s another whimper.

Then Sally takes the metal butt plug. Kylee has already lubed it up for her, and she hands her the tube of lubricant jelly so that some can be smeared up Jessi’s ass. The plug is cold and metallic and is quite a different proposition from the suppository. As Sally pushes and twists it, it elicits a series of gasps.

“No-oo!”

“Easy,” I murmur, “easy! Don’t tighten, relax! Don’t fight it.”

The plug goes in with a little ‘pop’ and Jessi instinctively, automatically, tenses. Her sphincter muscle tightens round the narrow neck of the plug, sealing it inside her. Sally presses a button on the exposed outer part, and there’s a gasp as the interior section expands. Now there’s no way it can be removed until we unlock it.

“There,” I murmur, “all over! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Little does Jessi know. The suppository will dissolve in her bowel over the next six hours or so, releasing the first instalment of the Service’s special cocktail of female hormones and other drugs that will cure her ‘testosterone poisoning’. Not as efficient as an injection, perhaps, but still a nice humiliating start.

Because the suppository also releases another compound, based largely on chilli powder. It won’t react with the hormones, but will gradually impart a heat to her insides, slight at first, but it will build up to an excruciating sensation that will cause her to wiggle her butt about like a demented pole dancer. It will only be relieved by her first enema, tomorrow morning. As Felicity would say “Ooh, aren’t we wicked!”

Kylee and I both grasp Jessi’s arms and help to raise her upright. We haven’t finished with her yet. Felicity hands me the roll of pink duct tape, and I use it to wrap round her upper arms, pulling her elbows tightly together. If she had proper titties this would make them thrust forward. Soon, girlie, soon!

I spin her round to face me.

“Who’s been a naughty girl, wearing Momma’s panties without permission?” I let them dangle from my finger. “Oh dear, they’re all soiled. I hope you were going to wash them before you put them back.” I ball them up in my hand. Jessi is now blushing furiously. I wonder how long it will be before Mrs Jablonsky misses them.

“Open wide!” Kylee pinches her nose so she has to open her mouth. I stuff the panties in and then press her jaw back up. Then using several strips of the pink duct tape I seal her mouth shut.

Her eyes try to plead with me. I grasp her chin with my hand and move her head from side to side as if examining it. Her hair is straggly and she’s let it grow rather long, almost down to the shoulders. When washed, conditioned, brushed and styled properly it should turn out to be a dark blonde, almost auburn.

“You know, I think you’re gonna be quite pretty.”

I see fear in her eyes, real deep fear. Not fear of the unknown, for she knows roughly what’s going to happen, just not the details of how, but fear that deep down inside she actually wants this, fear of admitting it to herself.

At any rate her sissy clitty – it will be called that from now on – is showing signs of arousal. That won’t do at all. Sally sprays it with the special aerosol. The cool mist causes a sudden intake of breath through her nose, and her sissy clitty deflates rapidly. In its flaccid state it’s easy to fit and lock the rods and mesh of metal that’s her temporary chastity device. Her permanent chastity will be fitted at the Re-education Centre.

Finally the part I really love. Felicity hands me the piercing and sealing tool that looks like a sort of gun. I check it to make sure that the ring is in place inside.

I hold the ‘gun’ up in front of her face, checking that the slot in the top fits round the septum of her nose. Kylee holds her head between her hands to make sure she doesn’t jerk away. I pull the trigger.

There’s a noise like a small bang, and tears spring to Jessi’s eyes. A cry tries to erupt in her throat, but of course is stifled by the fact that she’s gagged. Her nose is now pierced.

I pull the trigger again. There’s the sound of whirring and clicking, and she can feel the heat from the tool. Then there’s a loud ‘ping’, and I carefully remove the ‘gun’ away from her face. Jessi now has a fine, gold-colored ring through the septum of her nose. She’s now legally a sissy.

By law all girlies, whatever else they wear or don’t wear, must have a ring fixed in their nose. It defines a sissy at a glance, establishes her status. Felicity of course has one, and Danni. Sally and Kylee both have one. Even I sport a nose ring. And we all wear them with pride, for they’re part of what we are. Proud to be a sissy girlie! And now Jessi has one too. Welcome to the family, sister!

Jessi is sobbing quietly to herself as Sally clips a collar with a chain lead attached round her neck. Sally gives the chain a tug.

“Get moving, girlie!”

Kylee jabs a finger into the small of her back. As Jessi can’t see her, she doesn’t know that it’s her finger, and not her revolver. They take her downstairs.

Before I follow them I click on Jessi’s computer. The last website she was viewing before we detained her was one called ‘Fictionmania’. That’s good, that’s very good. They’re an excellent bait for candidates for feminization.

Felicity has been looking over my shoulder. “That’s how I started, mistress, looking at Fictionmania. “

I give her butt a playful swot.

“Get away with you, little slut.” and she giggles happily. I switch off the computer.

I descend the stairs with Felicity in tow. As I pass the Jablonskys – Mrs openly crying, Mr still trying to comfort her – I say airily “Don’t worry about the damage to the door. The Sissy Service will pay for repairs.” And it’s quite true. There’s even a special budget, the ‘Bedroom Door Repairs Fund’.

We get Jessi settled in the back of the van, alongside the other two draftees we’ve collected tonight. Once she’s lying on the hard rubber floor I immobilise her legs with duct tape. Aah, three soon-to-be sweet girlies, all bound and gagged, and all with fear in their eyes! Quite rightly. Our first detainee, Lily, is beginning to twitch as her suppository starts to take effect. The second, Debbi, is just lying there, attempting to whimper behind her gag.

“Secured the last of them,” I inform Danni over the radio. “We’re bringing them in.”

“Right girls,” I tell the others, “let’s get these turkeys back to the Centre and checked in, and then we’re done for the night.”

Now we just have to endure Kylee’s madcap, hair-raising driving on the way back. Goodness knows what the poor detainees, bouncing around in the back, must think.

It’s Saturday tomorrow, and we’re all off duty for the weekend. Two whole days to relax and enjoy life. I shall be back with Mistress Claire.

The thing I love about Mistress Claire is that she’s totally unimpressed that I’m a lieutenant in the Sissy Service. To her I’m just another girlie in need of work and discipline. I shall again be her parlour maid in ankle-length black dress and white bib-apron, my hair bound up in a bun under a mob cap, and will spend Saturday cleaning her house from top to bottom, punctuated by sessions under her paddle if she thinks I’m not doing a good enough job, or just not working hard enough.

Sunday I’ll spend a lot of the time preparing food, and it’s only on Sunday evening that I’ll change into a classic French Maid dress to serve her dinner guests. My sissy clitty is already straining in its metal prison at the thought of it. Of course it won’t be let out; chastity is a permanent condition for a girlie.

The others will be similarly occupied. Danni, I know, will be continuing her ponygirl training – she needs the exercise to keep her trim – and Felicity will be serving her adored Black Master. I’m not sure what Sally and Kylee are going to be doing exactly, but I bet it’s something together and involves being dressed as bunny girls.

Yes I may be a Domme in the Sissy Service, but underneath I’m a girlie who needs to know her place like all the others. The Constitution guarantees everyone the right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. Well, nobody wants a dead sissy. They’re much more fun to play with as living girlies. Liberty? Every sissy has the freedom to become her true feminized self, what she really is in her heart. And as for the Pursuit of Happiness, everyone knows that sissies are only happy, or rather are happiest when they’re serving a Master or a Mistress.

These truths are self-evident, as Jessi and her sister draftees will come to realise. And it’s our job in the Sissy Service to help them on their way to realising it. Yes, it’s a worthwhile profession we’re in. No wonder we all enjoy it so much!

Copyright 2014