This is the final chapter in 'The Sissy Farm' It ends with Michelle marrying her Mistress Simone and simply describes the various outcomes of the various lives of Michelle's assorted aquaintances.
The ending is a bit of a cop out really but I'm getting stale with this story.
Hopefully there'll be some more coming along shortly.

Love to you all and a big thanks to those who commented.

OXOXOX.

Beverly.

Partying at Wild Passions. (Well a girl's got to have some respectable fun as well.)

The Sissy Farm 30

Chapter 30.

List of Characters.

Me. Michelle A Natural transvestite sissy.
Janice My Younger sister
Aunty Bev Janice and My mother’s Sister.
Mistress Janet Headmistress of the young lady’s academy
Doctor Shirley Williams. My endocrinologist.
Miranda. A very effeminate Sissy sales assistant.
Miss Stern Miranda’s mistress who owns the shop.
Peregrine. AKA. Uncle Penny. My transvestite uncle. (Aunty Bev’s brother.)
James AKA. Auntie Jamie Peregrine’s Partner. (Soon to inherit his/her fathers
earldom.)

Victoria An older RG friend of mine.
Jemima Victoria’s sissy brother.
Portia Victoria’s mummy.
Julia My dining companion and mentor at the academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
William & Morag Bandy Gypsy Mum and Dad.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy naughty boy once called David

John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.
Uncle Arnold Earl Weston’s odious younger brother.
Cousin William Arnold’s son and Auntie Jamie’s first cousin.
Elaine William’s wife.
Jeanette. William’s daughter, (who fancies Julia like crazy.)
Josephine & Persephone Jeanette’s younger twin sisters.
Andre Hair stylist in N Y.
Dawn Robbins Singer and Actress.
Shirley and Jasmine Trading Friends from New York.
Vicar Rachel Our Friendly neighbourhood priest.

After our extended stay in New York Shirley and Jasmine accompanied us back to London. Needless to say our reception at Heathrow
resembled a tribal gathering and Grandpa Weston led the celebrations despite his great age. The arrival of Jonathon and Samantha had made him a great, great uncle by marriage and a great grandfather by adoption, (Auntie Beverly’ adoption of Janice and me.) Naturally a reception party had been organised back at the house and a ‘clan photograph’ was organised on the front steps. All in all that was one of the happiest days of my and Simone’s life, especially when she took me to bed that night and whispered in my ear that she thought she might be with child, - my child. I was so excited my tits started lactating spontaneously and I had to slip out of bed to address the problem.

In the morning Simone informed the family and further celebrations ensued. It seemed now that my life was reaching total fulfilment and Auntie Beverly and Morag decided it was time that Simone and I gave the forthcoming child legitimacy. Because the Mistress-Sissy relationship was such that I had to ask Simone if I could have her permission to marry her, the proposal followed an unusual format insofar as it could not come as a surprise.

However, it came as a surprise to the rest of the family and soon the drums were rumbling out the messages to all and sundry as the news spread beyond the family to friends and acquaintances. The sweetest surprise and the biggest was Grandpa Weston’s insistence that ALL my friends and relations be invited to the wedding.

Naturally, Janice my beloved sister was one of the first to learn of it and that same Saturday afternoon my sibling arrived breathless at the house demanding to be married to Joanne in a joint wedding. Auntie Bev blanched slightly for besides all our relations and mutual friends from school, Janice and Joanne had acquired their own circle of alternative friends in London and Paris so the wedding could soon be extended alarmingly. The little church on the estate would be full to overflowing!
By the time the tribal drums had been rolling for a week the house was inundated with affirmative ‘RSVP’s, The following Saturday, Morag, Auntie Beverly, and Earl Weston had finally concluded enough was enough. There were nearly three hundred guests who simply could NOT be refused without feeling painfully hurt and rejected. And that was just to attend the wedding ceremony! Let alone the bash afterwards!

As the tribal elders sifted through the responses and held up ‘doubtfuls’ there came the constant and repeated refrains from either me or Simone or Janice or Joanne,

“But Mummy! You simple must invite ‘so-and-so’!” Don’t you remember? She/he was the one who ‘did this or that’. They would be terribly hurt to be left out!”

And so it went for a solid week before Vicar Rachel had the final figures for her church.

“I’m going to have to remove some of the pews and make it standing room only at the back.” Rachel explained. “English heritage are not going to be impressed with my vandalism. The nave of that chapel is early Saxon, that is eighth century and the flagstones by the alter go back to Romano Celtic!”

“What!” grandpa Weston huffed angrily, “are you telling me I can’t make temporary alterations to my own bloody church?”

Rachel grinned indulgently.

“Listen, I’m the vicar of that church and even I can’t alter the flipping building without their bloody permission.”

“Tut-tut vicar, language!” Auntie Bev grinned.

“No! It’s true. This is secularism gone too far. A bunch of secular architects and ‘job’s-worth’s’ sitting on a bloody committee in London can tell a vicar what can and can’t be done to her own church. That building is part of a living heritage, not some religious, architectural icon frozen in aspic!”

“What about the Bishop? Surely he can authorise it?” Grandpa Weston huffed again.

Rachel fell silent then replied thoughtfully.

“Well that’s a maybe, the bishop will have a direct line to the Archbishop and he sits in the House of Lords.”

“What about your direct line to God?” Janice grinned.

Rachel gave her a patronising smile that said it all.

“I don’t think a bunch of blinkered civil servants would take kindly to a thunderbolt landing on their table; still; - it conjures up a lovely image. Let’s stay with the Bishop and if that doesn’t work, we’ll try the media. Lots of people are getting sick of the nanny state.”

Eventually the issue of removing a certain number of pews from the back of the church was resolved. Some ‘jobs-worth’s came down from London and went through the whole rigmarole with Earl Weston, Vicar Rachel, the Bishop and the county archaeologist until finally an agreed number of pews were allowed to be removed. After this was done the next headache had to be addressed. Who would be seated and who would stand?” Morag came up with the simple solution.

“Come on girls, this is a gender bender wedding. Let’s bend the old status quo and let the women have precedence in the church for once. The men can stand at the back and the women can be seated.”

We all immediately agreed with this and giggled as we contemplated the reversal of the old chauvinistic male roles.

“We could even put the men behind a screen, like in the synagogues.” Auntie Beverly added.

Rachel grinned but observed that any further alterations might just, - might just, - tip the committee in London over the edge.

“Besides,” she continued, “the Bishop is pretty liberal but not quite that liberal.”

“Yes, and who’d have to pay for an expensive wooden screen?” Earl Weston added smiling at the comedy of the suggestion. “Because they wouldn’t accept some simple temporary canvas thing, you know what these job’s-worth’s are like! They’d probably want some bloody replica carved oak rood screen like the ones in the bloody cathedrals!”

Finally the accommodation questions were resolved as Morag suggested. Men standing at the back of the church because they were taller, (or at least that was the official reason,) whilst ladies sat at the front. The only suits and trousers at the front of the church would be William Bandy and old Earl Weston for he was well inured by now to ‘gender-bender’ weddings. His own son had worn a matching wedding gown with the bride at the last wedding. Besides we had agreed that Earl Weston would give Janice away and Auntie Jamie would give me away. William Bandy concluded that what was good enough for the old earl was therefore good enough for him. He would give away his daughter Simone while Uncle Penny would give Joanne away. There were no ‘best men’.

The next big issue was wedding dresses. The best bit of all was that both brides and grooms would be wearing gowns and that meant four bridal trains with four lots of bridesmaids or more correctly, two sets of bridesmaids and two sets of groomsmaids at the altar, not to mention Earl Weston and Mr Bandy. It was going to be a squeeze and we had to re-apply for permission to move the front pew on both sides of the aisle to accommodate the double wedding.

“Whoever said it was going to be easy?” Vicar Rachel grinned.

Earl Weston grimaced when he saw the English heritage bill for specialised craftsmen to come and supervise the alterations, not to mention the official attendances. Still he was marrying off his two adopted grandchildren and for him it was a remarkable turn-around from his expectations of but a few years ago. He was in an expansive generous mood for he had learned only that morning as he opened the letter containing the invoices for the alterations, that his new daughter in law was pregnant again to his transvestite, bi-sexual son Jamie. Nothing but nothing was going to ruin the earl’s belated happiness. The great house positively hummed with happy activity as preparations went apace.

Finally the great day arrived. Joanne and I made our ways up the aisle accompanied by our supporters Uncle Penny and Auntie Beverly. Naturally our gowns matched and our respective supporters had also chosen suits of identical design but different colours to reflect their own genders, Auntie Bev was in a beautiful pink two piece while Uncle Jen matched her with a pale blue mirror design. We stood at the altar in nervous anticipation until the organist struck up and we each turned to smile at our brides advancing up the aisle on the arms of their respective grandfather and father. As we turned to savour the beautiful sight approaching the altar, Vicar Rachel had to gently admonish the groomsmaids for crowding curiously onto the aisle line and blocking the approach of the brides.

“Come on now girls, you’ll all get the best seats in the house in a moment. Move back girls.”

Reluctantly our groomsmaids shuffled back to their allotted positions and the space opened up beside Joanne and me as Simone and Janice smiled behind their veils. Joanne and I exchanged excited but nervous smiles and Vicar Rachel had to gently remind us to hand our bouquets to the senior groomsmaids and motion to our supporters to get the rings ready. Auntie Bev and Uncle Jen discreetly checked through their hand bags and ascertained that the rings were easily available. To add to the tension, Simone and Janice did exactly what Auntie Bev had done at her wedding; namely paused to chat briefly to the seated women and girls in the congregation to exchange last minute words of encouragement, advice, reassurance, endearment and congratulations. At the back the men had to simply wait and fidget impatiently, this was definitely a girly day!
Eventually the brides arrived at the altar to take their places beside their respective grooms and our gowns squeezed against each other causing the wide silk skirts to whisper and rustle as they competed for space in front of the narrow rail. The older bridesmaids had to marshal the younger ones to the sides to allow the congregation unrestricted views of the celebration and our vows. Finally we sissies were each wedded to our mistresses and bound by our vows always to serve and obey. Lastly we signed the registry and we were legally married.

With a precision learned from his time in the army, Earl Weston turned us newly wedded couples and we carefully navigated our way up the aisle, four abreast to accompaniment of the wedding march. A tune that had always brought tears to my eyes but now doubly so because it was my wedding march. Outside the church we arranged ourselves in the sun and soon the cameras were clicking away twenty to the dozen. We four newlyweds just had not realised how many friends and supporters we had until we saw the crowd gathered in the churchyard.

Then it was back to the marquee on Grandpa Weston’s front lawn to start the festivities. As I accompanied Simone, Janice, and Joanne I felt a cold shiver come over me. The last time I had crossed these grounds in a gown, I had been brutally raped by the odious Arthur and William. Simone, Janice and Joanne’s happy mood however, served to calm me and we arrived at the reception in festive mood. Once we were ensconced in the marquee Uncle Jenny phoned Auntie Jamie and the guests started from the Churchyard in small groups as they picked their way across the grounds along the narrow tarmac path that had been especially laid to prevent expensive shores getting ruined if it was muddy. It was not muddy; indeed the weather could not have been better, sunny and dry but not too hot.

The first to arrive were Auntie Beverly and Morag the mothers of the brides. Our greeting simply involved tight hugs and kisses with few words exchanged for there was little news to impart.

Next it was Grandpa Weston, Mr Bandy, Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny and indeed they had little to add for we knew their circumstances intimately.

The first of the ‘regular guests’ were Mistress Janet the headmistress of my old school accompanied by Doctor Shirley Williams my endocrinologist. Mistress Williams eyed us approvingly and actually showed emotion as we first shook hands and then fell into an emotional hug. This was a very different woman from the dragon who had pursued us all through our school days. Firstly she congratulated us all on our successful careers and she beamed with pride as she turned to Doctor Williams.

“D’you know Shirley, I always get a huge lump in my throat when I see my former pupils doing so successfully.” Then she turned again to us four. “You’ve done splendidly girls, and I’m particularly happy that you Michelle stuck to my admonishments by completing your academic career.”

I tried to explain that despite my mathematical prowess on the trading floors of both London and New York, my first love was and always had been hair styling. Mistress Janet gently fingered my French twist and smiled.

“Yes indeed Michelle dear but you’ll always have that superb brain to fall back on.”

I smiled a little bemused. ‘After all didn’t that same brain dictate that I was a voluntary sissy and a keen hair-stylist? My brain was me, it was everything I was and everything I would ever become, not simply just a math’s computer.’ It would have been churlish to argue any points at that juncture so I simply smiled agreeably and fell into Doctor Shirley’s extended arms. I felt her expert fingers testing my body and I grinned knowingly as I whispered.

“Yes doctor, it’s all sissy and once again, thanks for everything.”

“Well done Michelle, you’ve turned out really well. I can mark up another success.”

I agreed whole-heartedly and we broke our embrace with an affectionate kiss as the next guests lined up.

Miss Stern and Miranda had designed all the gowns so they had a pride of place in the guest line up. As the couple approached, we all four newlyweds self-consciously checked our gowns to see that everything was picture perfect as four critical eyes checked us over. The examination garnished a pass with honours and the couple hugged us as they complimented us before following Mistress Stern and Doctor Shirley into the marquee.

The next to meet and greet us was Auntie Beverly’s oldest friend Portia with her sissy husband and two children, Victoria and Jemima; plus of course Victoria’s sissy husband and her newborn son in her arms. Victoria’s daughter of course was a bridesmaid and we could hear her cavorting with a dozen other younger children as we caught up on Victoria’s news. She just gained a promotion to surgical registrar and was very happy with her life. The domestic side was handled entirely by her sissy husband and the relationship was sound. Naturally an invite was extended to come and see them in London at any time. Jemima explained that she had been given leave by her mistress to attend the wedding and her mistress would be arriving soon, hopefully in time for the reception. Jemima’s mistress ran a successful transgendered B&B in London and normally Jemima was kept busy with the domestic side. They had a comfortable living. I asked Jemima how her mistress treated her and she smiled enigmatically.

“Come on Jem’s,” I begged. “Spill the beans; why did your mistress let you come on your own?”

Jemima smiled shyly and made a little sign as she whispered in my ear.

“I’m fitted with a ‘sissy lock’. There’s no way I can indulge or be indulged until mistress arrives for this evening’s wedding party.”

“Oooo-ooh! You funny girl!” I giggled. “So it’s strictly a good girl until she arrives.”

Jemima smiled and blushed slightly then made her excuses as the welcome queue backed up behind her.

Next to greet us was Sophia and her younger sissy brother Angelica. I had heard of Sophia’s advancement to Q.C. in her chambers in London. (A Q.C. is a ‘Queen’s Counsel’; A senior Barrister in British courts. That is a specialist lawyer who advocates for defendants and prosecutors in the courts.)As I gave Sophia a congratulatory hug I asked her how she had climbed so successfully. She explained.

“I was involved in some very high profile cases while you were over the pond. Several transgendered issues coalesced into a complex series of legal arguments and my back-ground gave me the intuitive edge when explaining to judges the complexities of sexuality and the law. I’ve moved the legal understanding even slightly ahead of the medical aspects and opened the way for transgendered people to invoke the new European human rights legislation.”

“Gosh! Clever stuff then.”

“More tedious than complex and a hell of a lot of interviews and research. That’s where my dear little sissy brother Angelica has been so helpful; haven’t you darling.”

She gave her younger brother Angelica a patronising but deeply affectionate sisterly hug and Angelica blushed with justifiable pride, just as Jemima had done. Sophia briefly explained the set up in her legal chambers.

“We have another junior barrister who is Angelica’s mistress so we all work together in the same set of chambers at the Middle temple. It’s a very successful arrangement.”

“I’m really pleased to learn of it. I’ll speak to you about it when I’m circulating later.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be here all afternoon and evening. We’re staying over in our camper van.”

“Oh that’s yours is it? Very smart. It must sleep about a dozen.”

“No. Only five but in some luxury. See you after.”

I had hardly slipped out of Portia’s embrace when Julia seized my hand and squeezed it. Her smile betrayed happiness and tension so I asked her what was wrong. Julia grinned back.

“Nothing darling, nothing at all; it’s just that I’m overdue for my mid-day milking and my bloody milking machine has packed up. Can I use yours?”

“Of course darling,” I replied as I asked one of the older bridesmaids to show Julia to my room where our machine was set up in our bathroom. Julia smiled gratefully and dashed of throwing words over her shoulder.

“Thanks Michelle! You’re a brick! I’ll get back to you after the meal!”

Simone and I grinned as we watched Julia bustling urgently across the lawn to the big house.

Joanne and Simone’s younger siblings were all bridesmaids so the next guest was Elaine, Uncle William’s ex wife who had been a bit hesitant about accepting Beverly and Jamie’s invitation. Finally after a personal visit by Auntie Bev and old Earl Weston, she was persuaded that as the mother of the Earl’s little great-nieces (who of course were bridesmaids,) that she was truly welcome. We asked her about the odious Uncle William and great Uncle Arnold but she had little to tell. They were still serving their sentences and she wasn’t visiting them since her acrimonious divorce from William.

“The pair of them can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned though I heard that they're due before the parole board in December so they might get out on parole if they can afford a good barrister.”

I shuddered from a reaction to the awful memories of my kidnap and then frowned distastefully. As I remembered, the Judge had recommended the maximum stay in jail without remission but there was no accounting for the courts and Parole boards. We could only wait and see.

Auntie Elaine moved on and Andre came forward with Dawn Robbins to offer their best wishes. I expressed my surprise at seeing Dawn.

“Well I’m pleased you could make it Dawn, I’d have thought that you’d have been up to your neck in it with the show. It’s the fourth year now isn’t it?”

“Yes, and still playing to packed houses. There’s still an opening for you if you want to come back to be my hair-dresser.”

I was pleased with her offer and said so but I had family commitments up until the end of the year what with visits to return and a house to find in London. We agreed to return to New York after Christmas and Dawn enthusiastically agreed to our invitation to stay with us over the short Christmas break.

“It’ll be really nice staying over here. My parents died this year within a few months of each other so there’s not much to keep me over the pond. Christmas won’t be the same without them.”

“What about your sisters and their children.” I asked.

“It’s the same for them as well. All of us three sisters used to stay at moms over Christmas and it was a fabulous atmosphere as my older sisters arrived home for Christmas with their kids. I usually arrived last then we caught up on stuff. Now mum and dad are gone it’ll never be the same.”

A tear forced its way from her eye and Auntie Beverly quickly produced a handkerchief. Dawn dabbed her eye then smiled thankfully as she continued.

“Whose house do we go to? We were all equal at mom’s and we each had our own bedroom. Christmases were fabulous get-togethers.”

“But you’ve got a huge apartment in New York.” I observed.

“Yeah but it’s still only three bedrooms. Mom and Dad’s house had five bedrooms, room enough for everybody. I used to bunk up with my middle sister just like we used to do as kids so that the grand-kids could use the other rooms. It’s not the same now. Besides, there are too many ghosts this Christmas; maybe next year. It’ll be lovely staying here with you this year. A really traditional Christmas in a huge rambling English country house.”

Simone grinned and suggested that Dawn speak to Grandpa Weston to make sure there was enough room. Christmas that year promised to be a hectic affair what with us back from New York and all the other family additions. Grandpa Weston overheard Simone’s words and he leaned forward from the welcome line-up as he took back Auntie Bev’s wet handkerchief.

“You come darling. You can sing for your supper.”

“Oooh Yes!” Both Simone and I chorused.

Dawn grinned whilst Andre chuckled.

“Does that mean I’ll have to cut hair?”

“If you want,” I replied. “You can certainly cut mine. You’ve done a wonderful job of it for my wedding. Anyway, everybody has to pitch in and everybody has to try to do a turn or something to entertain the family. It’s part of the fun.”

“And you can cut mine,” Simone added. “That’ll be your turn and you can explain a few simple tips to the younger children, Auntie Elaine’s girls are exactly that age now."

With invitations confirmed both Dawn and Andre made their excuses and went to their seats. Simone turned to me curiously.

“Are those two an item now?”

We both looked at them holding hands as they walked away and concluded they probably were or were soon to become one. Simone and I couldn’t decide who was the luckier, Dawn or Andre.

We only had a few second’s respite when Shirley and Jasmine appeared before us with the new babies. It’s not every father who stands in her wedding gown with her new wife by her side and greets the mother of her newborn twins. Furthermore, it is not every father who would enjoy smiles, contentment and congratulations from those respective women but I did. As Simone and I held the babies I felt my breasts give a delightful tingle. I wasn’t due to be milked until that evening so I knew the feelings were pure motherliness. I ‘adjusted’ my boobs and Jasmine smiled knowingly as she leaned forward and whispered.

“Later this evening if you want darling. You can feed your daughter while Simone feeds your son.”

I don’t think that a bride and her groom could ever have received a nicer invitation and we stood absently holding the babies for a few minutes before Auntie Bev brought us to our senses.

“Come on girls, the queue is waiting.”

We both shook our heads as we came to our senses and handed the babies back.

I looked out along the queue and wondered just where they all came from but as they passed before us, we recognised everybody who had ever had anything to do with our lives. Remote family cousins, friends of one or all four of us brides and grooms, old teachers, school friends who numbered in dozens; work mates and a whole host of faces, some only dimly remembered. It was gone one o’clock before we finally sat down to the wedding lunch.

Speeches were made, jokes were exchanged and a party atmosphere soon began to prevail.

That evening after milking then dancing until the witching hour, Simone and I retired to our wedding bed exhausted but blissfully happy. Never were a sissy and her mistress so happy.

The end.
__________________________________________________________________________

I know this ending is somewhat rushed and unsatisfactory but in truth I’m a bit stale with the story. I just don’t know how Angharad can keep on producing original refreshing work in ‘Bike’ day after day.

Sorry if the end is a bit of an anticlimax but I don’t want any cliff-hangers or such. I suppose I could have introduced some excitement like an escape from prison by Arnold and William but I have to draw a line under this story. It is becoming a chore as I sit at my computer contemplating more writing. That is not how I want my pleasures to be.
Thank you to all those who have commented. There are other stories in the pipeline. Some re-writes brought over from Fictionmania and some original stuff still gestating in my mind.
Cheers and bye for now.
Beverly.