This chapter generally describes life for Michelle at Mistress Janets Academy for Sissies. There's less adult detail as this story begins to move to more mundane aspects of everyday life for Sissies.
From my personal perspective when I had finished writing chapters 12 and 13, I was coming out of a somewhat dark period of my life as I had set out on the road of reconciliation to my childhood. For me The Sissy farm had been 'bubbling away' in my head for some years before the general advent of computers and P.C.'s. I finally committed it to FM. a few years ago.

Beverly Taff.

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Does this camouflage work?

The Sissy Farm.

Chapter 14

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
Victoria An older RG friend of mine.
Jemima Victoria’s sissy brother.
Portia Victoria’s mummy.
Julia. My dining companion and mentor at Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.

Chapter 14.

When we returned to Mistress Janet’s academy, Janice and I simply fell into the normal routine of the school year. Namely academic studies, hormone enhanced development, regular sport, exercise and strict corseting coupled with a strict diet. For Jemima and Angelica however, this was to be a very important term.
Unknown to them, lactation inducers were added to their ‘horse-pills’ and within a few weeks of returning to school, their breasts started to ache and throb. Then, in about mid March, they started lactating.

For the rest of the school it was fascinating to hear of them and the rest of their middle school class waking up each morning with wet pads in their corset cups and to see them rushing urgently to the dairy block to be relieved of the distressing build up in their swollen breasts. Invariably the poor sissies would wake up about four or five o’clock with their breasts demanding to be milked but they would find the dairy block closed until seven o’clock. I suppose it amused the mistresses, girls and senior sissies to watch the poor neophytes milling aimlessly around the dairy block door as they softly moaned about their discomfort. It sounded for the entire world like a genuinely bovine, dairy herd, lowing softly to be let in to the milking parlour.
Eventually, the new comers to the herd settled down and learned to control their milking schedules. I tried to get Jemima and Angelica to reveal the secrets of the milking but they stuck rigidly to the sissy herd code and refused to reveal anything except to say that they had become even closer, firmer friends through their new dairy partnership. Janice and I clearly sensed the new deepening relationship between Jemima and Angelica for we often caught them simply staring ‘doe-eyed’ into each others faces as they sat silently on one of the many common room sofas savouring each other’s company. In fact it became slightly annoying.

At first we began to think they were also being bimboised but when the exam results were published at the end of the spring term, it was obvious that Jemima and Angelica were still two of the sharpest knives in the middle school box.
At the end of the spring term we returned home to find that Auntie Beverly had moved more or less permanently as a lodger into Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie’s pub. It seemed that they were always fond of each other and as brother and sister they had been much closer than their third sibling, my mummy.

Janice and I were quite pleased with the move for it meant we now spent most of our spring and winter vacations in Pimlico so we were always closer to Jemima and Angelica. Auntie Bev had temporarily rented out our country home and though we were sad to miss the country walks in the woods and fields, it also meant we were free from the inevitable prurient interest that a close-knit country life invariable invited. Living in London gave us anonymity and privacy.

When we arrived home from school, Auntie Bev immediately checked out our physical development. She was pleased with our breasts and gently stroked our nipples to extract the inevitable gasps of delight from both Janice and me. Then she checked out our other, more secret places and nodded with satisfaction.

Janice's development was of course following its natural path and Auntie Bev smiled as she gently kissed Janice on the forehead then gave her a hug. Next she turned to me and checked out my progress.

“Yes petal, your sissification is coming along nicely. I notice you’re beginning to grow some hair down there. Well we can’t have that can we. It looks so unsightly. Sissies should always be smooth and clean in that area it’s much easier to keep clean and neat. I’m booking you in for a course of laser depilation during these holidays.”

I peered down at my boy-clitty and nodded agreeably. I must confess, I did not like the unsightly little hairs. It seemed to indicate that I was growing old and no sissy ever wanted to look old. I suppose there was some sort of ‘Peter Pan’ complex attached to my transvestism. My preoccupation with the pubic hairs had also distracted my attention from all other developments for had I looked more closely; I would have noticed that my boy-clitty had shrunk slightly. The shrinkage was infinitesimally small but nevertheless it was shrinkage. I was only to realise this in the second year of my time at Mistress Janet’s.
As in the Christmas holidays, Auntie Beverly milked me regularly for my sperm and sent it off to be frozen. I would have thought that she had enough by now but I didn’t think to ask questions. I did notice however that my orgasms seemed less intense and my ejaculations were slightly weaker. Despite this however, the overall feelings were much more enjoyable for coupled with my ejaculations, I seemed to be savouring those long soft yummy waves of pleasure that Janice described. What I liked about the yummy waves was that they persisted for longer and left me with a delightful sense of sweet languidity.

One sweet spring morning as I lay supine after one of these strange new sensations, I was lying on the bed with my hair scrunched up on the pillow when Janice stared at it and tugged a loose strand free. After gently extending it she suddenly realised.

“Michelle! Do you realise, your hair’s grown long enough to be properly permed.”

I looked up languidly and smiled weakly as Janice ran her fingers through my matted hair and spread a couple of loosened strands out in a fan-like shape on the pillow. She then took a hand mirror and held it over my face so that when I looked up into it I could see the long golden strands spread invitingly across the pillow. Janice smiled and bent down to kiss me.
“You look just like a princess. Your hair’s lovely. Just think; if you have your hair done, you won’t ever have to bother with those wigs ever again.”

Reluctantly I forewent the lingering delights of my orgasm and struggled to sit up in the bed. Janice tugged me excitedly to the dressing table and we both looked in the mirror as Janice tried to fluff out my tangled hair.

“Look, some of it’s down to your shoulders. You could easily have your hair done up in a French bob so that it looks sissyish during the day. Then in the evenings when we’re together, you could let it down.
Just look how long and shiny it is and nary a curl in sight. I wish my hair was as straight as yours. You won’t have to brush it half as much as me. Why is your hair so straight and mine so wavy?”

“I don’t know.” I replied as I stared at my reflection and imagined all sorts of styles that might suit me. Then I gazed enviously at Janice’s silky, wavy crown. “I only wish mine was as long as yours, you know; right down to the waist.”

“Oh that’s poo-hoo.” Chided Janice dismissively. “Your hair will grow as long as you want it. With being so naturally straight, you won’t have to brush it out so much and it will grow easily to your waist. Your biggest problem will be setting it up in a sissy style for school. Come on. Let me brush it out now. It’s been bobbed up under that wig for far too long.”

“I wash it regularly,” I protested.

“Yes but you dry it and tuck it away. Now you won’t have to. Come on, let me brush it out.”

Janice was almost prancing with anticipation, as she stood poised behind me with brush in hand. I smiled and nodded. She needed no more encouragement and promptly set to.

“Ow-oow!” I squealed. “That hurts!”

“Yes,” replied Janice, “you hair’s like a rat’s nest. It’s been tucked up under that wig for far too long. This is going to take forever.”

“Well please be gentle. That hurt.”

Janice smiled and started to gently untangle some of the bigger tangles with her fingers. The more she persevered, the more I began to understand what she meant. The mirror could not lie; my hair was long golden and lustrous. Janice sighed enviously.

“Just look at it. It’s divine. I’m so jealous. Everybody will be after you with hair like this. It’s just so thick. You should be shot for letting your hair get like this.”

“Well it has had to live under the wig for nearly a year.” I cried defensively.

“That’s no excuse, but I suppose I’m also to blame. I should have noticed earlier. Oh this is just lovely!”

By now, my tangles were coming undone and Janice's brush strokes were starting to sweep silkily through my hair as it started to extend over my ears and down past my neck. Janice stopped again and held out the long shiny strands.

“See! It’s even longer than I thought. It comes right past your neck. It’s almost down to your shoulders girl! Oh this is just so beautiful. Auntie Bev needs to see this!”

Before I had a chance to object, Janice had called across the landing to Auntie Bev’s bedroom. After some muffled protests, Auntie Bev appeared in her corsets and peignoir.

“What’s the matter dar, -? Oh my gosh! Michelle! Your hair!”

“What do you think,” demanded Janice as she stood proudly holding the brush as if to show off her handiwork.

“Why, it’ — it’s beautiful! Michelle! You hair’s just like your grandmother’s. It’s just so long and silky.”

So saying she stepped forward and ran her fingers through the thick, straight, golden tresses. Then she gasped as a tear forced it’s way into her eye.

“Oh my God! It’s just so much like your grandmother’s! She used to let us two girls brush it out in the mornings. Your mummy and I used to quarrel as to whose turn it was. This is just so delightful. Your mummy would have been so happy to see this. We’ll have to let it grow to your waist! Hair like this is just such a delight to brush out. Just imagine, long easy strokes all the way down to your waist. Grandma used to sigh with pleasure and we sisters quickly learned to do long gentle easy strokes. Oh my! You’re such a lucky sissy!”

As I bathed in Auntie Beverly's admiration Janice asked enviously.

“Why isn’t my hair like hers? It’s not fair.”

“But your hair’s lovely as well darling. It’s thick and wavy and almost as yellow.”

“But she’s almost a platignum blond and it’s dead straight. How come were so different?”

“Children often differ. Look at Uncle Penny’s hair. His is the same colour as Michelle’s. The genes just fall with the roll of the dice. Neither of us sisters had hair as blond as Peregrine’s.”

“D’you think it’s the, - you know, - the boy thing, - the tranny gene?””

Auntie Bev shrugged her shoulders.

“Possibly darling. Who knows? Anyway, your hair is still beautiful. I know of a million girls who’d love to have hair as golden and wavy as yours. It’s just not as pale blond as Michelle’s. It’s still beautiful hair darling and it’s nice to have a wave in the hair. Your hair is still thicker than Michelle’s, - see.”

Aunty Bev ran her fingers through my and Janice’s hair simultaneously then Janice ran her fingers through her own hair then did the same to mine. She nodded with satisfaction.

“I think your right, but I still like Michelle’s hair.”

“Well you can always dye it when your older darling. If you want platinum blond hair it’s easy to arrange. It will be easy to colour your hair, it’s already a pretty, pale yellow!”

“What about the straight thing?” Pressed Janice, pony tails look lovely in straight blond hair.

“That’s easy as well darling. They can do anything with hair these days.”

“I hope so. I so wanted us to remain looking like twins,” sighed Janice.

“So what about Michelle’s hair for now. What shall we do?”
Janice studied it and smiled.

“Just let it keep growing. She can tie it up in a pony tail for now.”

Auntie Janice looked questioningly at me and I nodded agreeably. I had been thinking, ‘pony-tail’ ever since Janice had brushed my hair out. A long golden ponytail with a nice black velvet ‘scrunchie’ would really set it off.
Janice spotted my smile in the mirror and remarked.

“With hair that blond, she’ll look like a palomino.”

“You’re only jealous,” I riposted.

“Yes I am. It’s not fair. Why on earth do the boys in our family get the beautifully straight blond hair?”

“I dunno. Why are the boys all sissies?” I replied.

Janice grinned and reached under my arms to tickle me. I squealed with delight and tried to resist but she was too strong for me. Auntie Bev looked on and smiled with evident satisfaction. My sissification was obviously progressing well. Even now at aged twelve and her only ten, my younger sister was already stronger than me. Eventually as I lay helplessly giggling and struggling on the bed, Auntie Bev intervened to arrest Janice’s torments.

“Careful darling, we don’t want her to have an attack of the vapours. She’s got to be milked and then got ready for the laser clinic.

Janice immediately ceased tormenting me and reached eagerly into the drawer for the vibrating dildo.

“Bend over sissy!” She commanded as Auntie Bev looked on.

By now I had become totally addicted to the dildo exciting my prostate gland. Janice deftly greased the dildo then reached up under my corset and forced the crotch aside. With one hand struggling to hold aside the crotch she used her other hand to inveigle the dildo deep into my receptive sissy hole where it pressed against my prostate gland. She released the tight crotch and the gusset pressed hard against the flat-plate base of the dildo so that it could not be dislodged. (Not that I wanted it dislodged.)

Next she worked her fingers further around under my corset and eventually slipped the little rubber suction tube over my boy-clitty. Then she carefully checked that the suction pipe wasn’t kinked or trapped and she gently started squeezing the little ball pump. Within seconds my seed was being vacuumed out of my boy-clitty.

Whilst the ejaculatory sensations were certainly enjoyable there was just that little something missing. The ejaculations were not quite as forceful as they used to be. All the while I kept forcing myself harder against the dildo in an attempt to somehow increase the ejaculatory delights. It was not to be however, though I certainly sighed with eventual satisfaction as the first sissyish, squishy, pleasure waves started to flutter up and down my tummy before growing in to long easy swells of pure ecstasy.
I just remained leaning over the bed and helplessly waggling my corseted butt in the air as I squirmed helplessly within the grip of the strange, exciting new sensations. Eventually after several minutes of pure nirvana, I collapsed onto the bed and moaned with sissified satiation as Janice left the dildo whirring away in my sissy hole whilst she carefully removed the clitty sucker then sealed the sample bottle and handed it to Auntie Bev.

I of course could not remove the dildo. My sleeping corset hem came down to my knees and I could not bend down enough to reach under my corset and get to my butt. The dildo would remain buzzing away until Janice or Auntie Bev decided to remove it. It was not uncomfortable or painful and indeed, like any libidinous young girl I would quickly reach another orgasm, albeit a sissy one. I simply lay submissively on the bed awaiting my mistress’s next act. It will be apparent now to all readers that my younger sister Janice was well on the way to becoming my mistress for the remainder of my sissification.

Soon I heard the car start in the yard and concluded that Aunty Bev had taken my sample to the sperm bank. Meanwhile Janice returned to our bedroom and smiled as I twitched salaciously on the bed. The vibrating dildo was starting me on the road to a second sissyish delight.

“Is that nice Petal?” She whispered.

“Oooh-oooh aaah! Yes! It, - it’s loveleee!” I gasped as my butt started to hump urgently against my beautiful new invader.

“Are you getting the squishy feelings?” Continued Janice.

“Oooh! Yeesss! Oooh! It’s lovely, it’s fantastic! Oooh yes! Ooo-ooh yes. Mmmm! That’s so goo-ood!”

As my pleasures started to overtake me, Janice slid onto the bed beside me and started to hug me and kiss me with sisterly delight. There was little I could do to please her because our corsets prevented any hope of genital intimacy so I surrendered my heart to her embrace just as I had surrendered my body to the soft, squishy orgasm undulating through my body.
Eventually my orgasm slowly subsided and I lay gasping and pleading for her to remove my newfound friend.

“Do you like her?” Giggled Janice as she reached under my corset and forced aside the crotch to extract the invader.

“Ooh yes!” I gasped breathlessly. “I never knew it could, you know, be like that.

“That squishy pulsing feeling is what Mistress Janet calls a sissy orgasm or rather a sissygasm.”

“A sissygasm,” I mused as I rolled the new word around on my tongue. “A sissygasm. Can only sissies have them?”

Janice nodded and smiled as she washed my newfound vibrating friend then locked it away in her side of the large dressing table.

“But I won’t be able to get to it in there!” I protested.

“Precisely,” confirmed Janice, “Auntie Bev says I’m to keep charge of it and you can only have it when I say so.”

“Ahh! That’s not fair.” I cried.

“Who said anything about fair?” Demanded Janice. “You’re a fulltime sissy now and sissies do as they’re told.”

I fell silent. Janice was quite correct. I had seen the situation in Mistress Janet’s Academy. Sissies certainly had very few rights and as a matter of course, every sissy, by the time they entered their middle school years at around thirteen or fourteen, had a mistress appointed to oversee her and control her very existence.

I could only thank my lucky stars that I appeared to be getting my own younger sister as my mistress. There was little I could do anyway to avert the situation. Even though she was two years my younger, Janice was already stronger than me. Had I tried to resist her physically, she could easily overpower me. I was a sissy and that was that!
Thus enlightened of my newfound lowly status I sighed wistfully and silently prayed that Janice would be generous with the dildo’s favours. We resumed dressing and were soon ready for the day. Apparently, there was a Spring-time Easter bonnet Parade in Mistress Janet’s academy that weekend and after my laser treatment, we were joining the pageant. Janice and I felt simply divine in our deliciously frilly ensembles with calf length hooped skirts and masses of petticoats over our full length frilly pantalets. We had no need of our heavy velvet capes so we wore our light summer-weight silken capes and Easter bonnets over our ‘Little Miss-Bo-Peep” outfits. I felt simply ecstatic as I made delightful ‘froufrou’ with the multiple layers of my petticoats. Janice watched me and giggled as she copied me and we minced about in the yard of Uncle Penny’s hotel feeling exceptionally feminine until Auntie Beverly returned from the Sperm Bank.

Neither of us noticed Auntie Beverly when she returned. She had parked the car outside in the street with a view to taking us straight to the pageant. She had been watching as cavorting and capering for over ten minutes as we made a childish feminine pretence of an Elizabethan play. We had been bobbing and curtseying to each other for those whole ten minutes unaware we were being watched while we savoured our delightfully frilly voluminous frocks. Eventually Auntie Bev tired of the show and made herself known. Instead of being embarrassed ay being ‘caught’ Janice and I let out excited squeals of delight and minced eagerly towards her. Auntie Bev held out her hands and caught us as we flung ourselves into her arms.
As we arranged ourselves as modestly as we could in the car, Auntie Jamie joined us in the front seat. As she turned to beam at us she smiled indulgently for she had a perfect view up our frothy petticoats.

“My what pretty pantalets you’re wearing. I wish I’d had pantalets like that when I was little.”

Janice and I giggled with delighted, coquettish embarrassment and struggled to hold down the hooped underskirts of our frocks but it was impossible. As soon as we pushed down one part of the hooped hems, another part would pop up revealing some other intimate detail. In the end we squealed with feigned annoyance and waved our silk stocking, legs in front of us in a sissyish pretence of annoyance. I saw Auntie Bev smiling at us in the mirror and I grinned coquettishly as I peeped out from behind my upturned petticoats. Auntie Bev smiled and spoke to Auntie Jamie.

“We’re going to have to watch little Miss Green; she’s a right little flirt.”

“So’s little Miss Pink,” replied Auntie Jamie who had caught Janice doing exactly the same thing via the passenger’s little vanity mirror.

After my treatment at the laser clinic we arrived at Victoria’s house to find the house awash with various editions of ‘Little-Bo-Peep’ Angelica and Jemima looked particularly fetching in their tight bodices that accentuated their overly ripe breasts. The hems of their hooped, frilly gowns could hardly get through the door and they had to pause, as they made sure that they did not get damaged. Eventually we were assembled on the garden footpath and then we manoeuvred ourselves into a hired ‘Mini-bus’. This turned out to be a somewhat licentious occasion as ‘helpful’ hands reached up under each other’s frocks to assist our corseted bodies up the steps. I must confess there was much giggling and squealing as everybody enjoyed a secretive grope.

Jemima and Angelica were particularly responsive. I was to learn much later, when I became a dairy sissy, that when a sissy joined the herd, their sissy clitties became exquisitely sensitive little buttons and the slightest investigation by strange fingers could set a sissy off. This additional clitty sensitivity coupled with their large bountiful nipples reduced a sissy to a virtual orgasm machine unless her mistress took care not to allow too much abuse.

For bimboised sissies the condition was perhaps a satisfactory compensation for their reduced cognocscence. If a sissy wasn’t much capable of advanced intelligent thoughts, then a highly charged libido coupled with an obsessive preoccupation with her appearance was some compensation. I grew quite familiar with these supercharged, promiscuous, bimboised sissies at Mistress Janet’s academy. They were constantly to be seen primping their hair and checking out the many mirrors to see that their appearances were immaculate. Then they would move away, simpering and giggling inanely amongst themselves as they minced along trying to suppress their carnal urges. .

For the more intelligent sissies, that is the bright young things destined to become lawyers or doctors and such, this same highly charged libido could prove to be an irksome situation.

Life at a university could prove quite a stressful existence, as they had to combine their twice daily milking and academic studies with their essential carnal releases to keep their libidos on some sort of even kilter. This had mainly been resolved by Mistress Janet’s more academically able pupils being sent to only a couple of large city universities were the proper dairy arrangements could be provided for out of a special private ‘sissy fund’.

At two notable universities, Mistress Janet’s alumina each had their own ‘off campus sorority houses’ for student sissies and their mistresses. Here a discreet dairy facility was maintained in the cellars. The set up was maintained by voluntary subscriptions from the sissy communities in those cities.

One universal trait amongst all of Mistress Janet’s sissies was their inability to properly organise their lives. Every sissy needed the guiding hand and firm control of a mistress to help her organise their joint lives. Alternatively a mistress needed a sissy to assist with her unique sexual desires and distasteful domestic chores like housekeeping and suchlike.

Finally, there was always the corseting. By the time every sissy and mistress had left Mistress Janet’s, they could not move without feeling the firm, tight embrace of their corsets. A daily, lifetime ritual for every sissy and mistress would be the regular corseting that so gave them a sense of support, companionship and security. Even when wearing everyday fashionable clothes, every sissy would be secretly wearing her corset with its phenomenally narrow waist.
Mistresses of course, would naturally wear less restrictive corsets. (Childbearing and all that.)
However, dear Readers, I digress Nous retournez nous moutons!
(And that is particularly appropriate for the Little Bo Peep Pageant.)

Eventually our Minibus arrived at the school grounds. Janice and I were amazed at the amount of cars, campervans and caravans and we soon learned why.

The Easter Pageant was held every spring at Mistress Janet’s academy. It had a different theme every year but invariably involved voluminous frocks with masses of frills and huge hooped skirts. Usually they were fairytale themes or nursery rhymes like Little Miss Muffet, Cinderella or Little Bo Peep. This year it was Little Bo Peep.

It appeared that the Easter Pageant was mainly an ‘Old Girls’ reunion for all the ex pupils of Mistress Janet’s Academy. The school was awash with dozens of adult couples and some had even brought their children who I instantly recognised as pupils at the school.

(Apparently I was not the only budding sissy to have had her sperm milked and frozen for future use.) It had been going on at Mistress Janet’s for years and some couples had even conceived their own children who had been immediately sissified like their fathers if they turned out to be boys. I now realised that Mistress Janet’s academy had been going on for some considerable years. I even met the founder Mistress. This was Mistress Janet’s mother who by all accounts, had been a very formidable lady. (She was also called Janet and now she was very old and frail.)

Our minibus was directed to the area behind the stage and we were soon busy with the preparations for the pageant. Each contestant had to prepare a little cameo of Little Bo Peep searching for her sheep whilst trying to look as provocative as possible by bending over and exposing her ruffled pantalets as she searched in every nook and cranny. It went on for several hours and I was truly glad that the junior school were first on. We got our section completed first and we were then free to roam about the school grounds and renew old acquaintances.

In the grounds and amongst the big marquees, we encountered hundreds of adult couples comprising a sissy and her mistress who were inevitably reminiscing about their time at the school. Even in our study, Janice and I became hosts to different couples who had been its previous occupants. They invariably came to see their old bedroom and chat about old experiences. All of us agreed that it was one of the best studies in the whole school for it offered some privacy and yet looked out on all sides because of it’s being in the turret on the edge of the main block.

Lots of the past pupils expressed surprise that two junior girls had been given the study but we kept quiet about our connections to the ‘Alternative Lifestylers club’ and whatever pulls, Uncle Penny might have had with the school, despite never having been a pupil. Eventually we made our excuses and returned to the main marquees were we bumped into Juliet and her mistress.
Juliet was in a very excited mood. Apparently she had won her year and was entered as one of the finalists. Janice and I had come nowhere because Girls and good sissies rarely did unless they were exceptional actors. Basically, the pageant was arranged to determine how far bad sissies had progressed. Their progress was the main issue that really mattered at Mistress Janet’s Academy.

Sadly Juliet could not accompany us around the grounds of the academy. She now had to keep her outfit in tip-top condition for the final so she couldn’t go ‘walkabout’ with us and possibly spoil her outfit. Thus Janice and I wandered alone as we enjoyed visits to every section except the dairy. This was locked until milking time and it would be exceptionally busy for there were hundreds of pupils and ex pupils to be milked. There was even a mobile dairy brought in for the occasion but for the life of me I could not understand where it had come from.

‘Who else would want a mobile sissy-dairy lorry?’ I thought. ‘What did they do with it for the rest of the year?’ It must have cost a fortune to maintain just for one weekend a year.’

Had I but thought about it, I would have realised that Mistress Janet’s old girl’s network was a large, powerful and very secretive organisation. The cost of one measly specialised truck would have hardly touched their balance sheet. I had not realised that the pageant was really an auction of the senior, school-leaver sissies to the highest bidding mistresses.

Apart from sissies like myself who had already been spoken for, and sissies who were destined for further education, the potential mistresses were checking out the remaining graduating sissies. The stage pageant was little more than a ‘cattle ring’ were Mistress Janet could show off the school’s wares.

The ‘auction’ was of course held in private while the poor, unsuspecting sissies were innocently wandering the school grounds renewing acquaintances, comparing outfits and gossiping about who had done what in the pageant. Naturally, most of the sissies being auctioned had been ‘bimboised’ and were little aware of their pre-ordained destinies. Provided these simpering, mincing, airheads had plenty of makeup, tight corsets and pretty, frilly clothes, they would function in almost any servile capacity. Their intellectual needs were few and they were easily pleased. Their only real need was to be milked twice daily at one of the sissy dairies that existed secretly where ever the sissy enclaves were gathered in numbers.

This anatomical necessity ensured that sissies had to live in close-knit communities to ensure easy access to their dairies. The social equations followed naturally from this essential factor. Several large towns had secret ‘sissy villages’, usually embedded secretly in the ‘gay villages’.

That evening I was surprised to find that Auntie Bev and Uncle Jamie were sharing our study. This meant Janice and I had to double up in one bed whilst Auntie Jamie and Auntie Bev shared the other. For Janice and I it was no travail. We usually shared our bed anyway. The beds at Mistress Janet’s Academy were very roomy and I grew to suspect that they were secretly designed to invite bed sharing, especially amongst the senior girls and their sissies. It was all part of the social programming.
There was no danger to this practice, by the time the sissies got to the senior school; they were incapable of impregnating or even penetrating the girls. Sissy clitties were insignificant nubbins no more than a centimetre long and a centimetre wide. The most a sissy could do was play ‘scissors sister’ and frot her stiff little nubbin against her mistress’s equally stiff clitoris. Genital sissy sex was tantamount to lesbian sex.

As Janice and I cuddled together in our corsets, we whispered and giggled as we wondered what Auntie Bev and Auntie Janie might get up to. To our chagrin they switched off the lights before retiring to bed and all we heard was the occasional creak of bed springs coupled with the odd sigh or moan. Whatever they were doing, they were very quiet about it but they were definitely doing something.

In the morning they lay abed whilst we joined the others in the communal bathroom. It was exciting for me to see several adult sissies with their adult mistresses sharing our showers but apart from their size, and well developed figures, there was little to tell them apart from we younger sissies. Adult sissies were hairless ‘down there’ and their sissy clitties were almost invisible. In fact, the younger sissies still had vestigial pee-pees but they were growing slowly smaller as the pills took their inevitable toll.

I was particularly pleased to note that the two yobs that had attacked me in the park were developing particularly well. And it was obvious from their preoccupation with their appearances that they were being ‘bimboised’.
I had never struck up any conversation with either of them for I felt that might be inviting unwanted problems but eventually the pair decided that in the company of some adult ex pupils, there was little to cause alarm. It was that morning that I learned they were now more afraid of me than I was of them. Both of them sidled over to me as Janice and I were shampooing our hair.

“Yes?” Demanded Janice curtly.

“Oh! Sorry. Apologised the brown-eyed one called Delilah. I just wanted to say how sorry we are for what happened that day.”

“Well yes,” I riposted cynically, “you would be sorry now wouldn’t you.”

“I know,” sobbed the blue-eyed sissy called Nancy. “But will you please forgive us. We know it was bad, but we, well, we thought it, - we thought it was, - we thought it was funny. We’re so sorry!”

“Well you can be as sorry as you like. Your punishment is forever. You’re sissies now. You can’t change back.” Replied Janice with a satisfied edge to her voice.

“We know,” replied both Nancy and Delilah as they burst out into tears.

Their outbursts attracted the attention of two adults who asked what was wrong.

“Oh they are naughty sissies.” Declared Janice. “They can’t face the heat after they played with the fire.”

“What did they do?” Demanded the Adult Mistress.

“They attacked Michelle here and left her traumatised.”

The adults turned to me and I nodded affirmation. Then the mistress bent over me solicitously.

“Have you got over it darling?”

“Just about mistress,” I replied, “I get flashbacks sometimes.”

“Well it might help to make your peace with them. They seem unduly distraught with their remorse.” Suggested the Adult mistress as she added this advice. “Sometimes if the attacker and the victim are introduced and the attacker shows true remorse, they can be reconciled and the victim’s fear is addressed.”

Janice stepped beside me and spoke for me. It was always easier for a sissy to let a girl speak up for her if she could. It avoided any potential for the sissy to somehow offend a mistress. Some mistresses could be very touchy.

“Nancy and Delilah have just apologised. We’ll leave it at that for now. There’s no need to rush things. Michelle had a terrible shock that day. Come along Michelle, we’ve got to get dressed.”
By behaving like my allotted Mistress, Janice averted any more potential for conflict and we made our respectful excuses before stepping across the landing back to our study. There we found Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie still abed.

“Are you two getting up this morning?” Asked Janice.

“Shortly darlings,” replied Auntie Bev, “your Auntie Jamie and I have some things to discuss. Don’t worry about breakfast there’s food all day for the whole weekend.”

“Well, we’ve got to get dressed. Please excuse us for the moment.” Replied Janice.

They nodded consent so Janice and I quickly laced our corsets up and completed dressing. As we prepared to brush our hair, Auntie Bev invited us to their bedside.

“Let us do your hair.”

We smiled agreeably and sat on the side of their bed as they brushed out our hair. Auntie Jamie couldn’t resist running his fingers through my long lustrous mane as he gently brushed it.

Then Auntie Bev dropped her bombshell.

“Would you two like to know a secret?”

“What’s that?” We both gasped in unison.

“Auntie Jamie and I are going to get married.”

“What!!!” We both squealed.

“Auntie Jamie and I are going to get married.”

“But! — But you, - you cant! Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny are already married.

“Oh no. We are not married.” Declared Auntie Jamie. “We have signed a legal partnership contract to establish joint title to the pub and the club etcetera, but we never got married. We saw no need to marry.”

“Oh.” I replied, a little disappointed. “But wont Uncle Penny be upset? I mean, I thought you loved each other.”

Auntie Bev reached out her arms and invited both Janice and I to cuddle closer as she explained.

“This is only a marriage of convenience. Auntie Jamie is the heir to a huge estate and a title. Do you remember the old earl who owns the rest of the woods adjoining ours back home?”

We nodded for we had met and chatted with the old earl frequently after our first meeting in the woods.

“Well Auntie Jamie is his son as you know and the old Earl wants Jamie to provide him with a grandson to continue the family line.”

“Go on,” I prompted as I began to get the jist.

“Well. I’ve always wanted a baby and this is an ideal way to please four people.” Continued Auntie Bev.

“Who are the four?” Demanded Janice.

“Well there’s me, Auntie Jamie, Auntie Jamie’s dad and Uncle Penny.”

“So why d’you have to get married for that?” I challenged.

“It’s Sallic law darling,” added Auntie Jamie. For my son to inherit the title after me, he has to be legitimate. I have to be married to his mother.”

“Oh!” Chorused Janice and I simultaneously.

“Do you like the idea?” Asked Auntie Bev.

“If Uncle Penny is happy then I am,” I replied.

“And what about you Janice?” Pressed Auntie Bev.

“The same. I don’t want to see Uncle Penny upset.”

“Well, he’s agreed to it. Jamie and he discussed on Thursday night.

“Can I speak to him now?” I asked.

Auntie Bev rooted her mobile out of her bag and handed it to me.

“Phone him.”

After Uncle Penny’s brief chat to Janet and me, I smiled and handed the mobile back. Uncle Penny had reassured us that he was more than happy for Auntie Jamie to fulfil her inheritance obligations. With that hurdle cleared and a series of excited hugs, Janice and I made our way down to breakfast.

“I think it’ll be great having a cousin who’s going to be an earl.” She giggled.

“So do I.” I agreed as we did a little skip of joy as best our corsets would allow.

“You two look happy,” observed Julie as she met us by the dining room doors.

We smiled confirmation then I joined her at a table. It was not our regular table of course. It was first come first served that morning. The school was crowded with ex pupils. As we squeezed up to make room Janice looked up and frowned slightly.

“Oh-oh. Don’t look now but here come Nancy and Delilah.”

I glanced around just as Nancy noticed us amidst the throng and she gave a little apologetic wave.

“Dammit! They’ve seen us.” I growled.

“They’re coming over! Ignore them!” Cursed Janice.

“Who are they?” Asked Julie as she watched them crossing the dining hall.

“They are the nasty boys who attacked Michelle in the park. That’s why they are here being punished. They’re naughty sissies.”
Julie’s maturity and sweet nature prevailed however and she scolded us gently.

“Don’t be so cruel. If they’re naughty sissies, they’ll never be able to harm you. Their whole natures will have been modified by now. Give them a chance.”

“A chance to do what?” Demanded Janice.

“A chance to say sorry.”

“They’ve already said that.” I tried to argue.

“Well then it’s your turn to be kind and gentle to them. Show them some kindness. What is their background?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “They were typically vicious street boys when the police caught them. Their parents weren’t even at the court.”

“Exactly,” observed Julie, “they probably come from broken homes. I bet their parents are not even here today.”

“I don’t know. Who cares?” I replied.

“Well you should. As they become sissified, they’ll need somebody to look after them. Sissy’s always need a mistress to guide them and control them.”

“And who’s that to be?” Demanded Janice. “Don’t look at me. I’ve already got my work cut out with my own little sissy.”

“Oh that won’t be necessary, unless of course you volunteer. The school will appoint their mistresses if nobody wants to do it.”

“Well that’s OK then.” Agreed Janice.

“Well not really,” replied Julie. “What happens is that the loneliest sissies get to have the most unpleasant girls? The dregs get the dregs.”

“Well that’s just perfect. Those bastards can have the worst mistresses in the school for all we care.”

“Yes.” I agreed with Janice. “They can be lonely and unhappy then. It’ll teach them not to attack little sissies.”

“But if they’ve apologised and tried to make amends, it shows they’re not all bad.” Argued Julie with a devastating humanity.

“Yeah. But is their apology genuine or is it just a reaction to their fate.” Countered Janice.

(I was beginning to admire Janice's razor sharp mind. If she was like this at eleven, she’d be a formidable lawyer if she ever decided to become one.) Julie however was not to be dissuaded.

“Let’s give them a chance. Hush now, here they come.”

Reluctantly I acknowledged their arrival. They were lucky because just as they arrived, an adult Mistress and her sissy got up from the table and left space opposite us. Nancy and Delilah hesitated uncertainly but Julie smiled invitingly and motioned to them to sit opposite. The sat nervously and made soft apologetic whimpering sounds before thanking us for the space. They had been lucky. The dining hall was crammed with visitors. Julie however, had no hesitation in welcoming them.

Nancy and Delilah smiled gratefully at Julie then glanced nervously at Janice. Janice met their eyes boldly and they turned their gaze to the floor. Julie noticed the interplay and immediately engaged in reconciliation.

“I believe you four have met before.”

We all nodded reluctantly as Julie accepted a large pot of tea from one of the serving sissies. She then poured out five cups and arranged them so that we would have to engage closer if we wanted to add milk and sugar. As our hands touched I felt Nancy and Delilah’s hands trembling. I caught their frightened gaze and frowned curiously. I didn’t say anything for it was obvious that the pair were already contrite enough. Janice also noticed but she was much bolder. She was, after all, already a budding mistress.

“What’s wrong with you two? Why are you shaking?” She asked.

“N, - n, - nothing.” Croaked Nancy as her cup rattled in its saucer and betrayed her trembling fear.
Janice took hold of Nancy’s shaking wrist and the cup immediately stopped rattling. She looked accusingly at Nancy whose trembling body had exposed her lie. Nancy was terrified and froze like a rabbit in a stoats’ glare.

“Don’t lie stupid!” Accused Janice. “Look!”

So saying, Janice released Nancy’s wrist and the cup immediately started rattling furiously again.
Nancy let out a squeak of terror and spilt some tea before finally managing to place the cup and saucer beside her plate. Janice let out a snort of contempt. Nothing more was said as we started eating but it was obvious from the way their cutlery kept tinkling against their plates that both sissies were still terrified. Eventually Juliet took control again. Her older years gave her some small authority over we three sissies even if it allowed her no dominion over Janice. She spoke to Nancy and Delilah.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes darlings. These two don’t bite!

The pair looked up wondering if this was some sort of malicious trap but I met Delilah’s gaze with a level non-malignant look to emphasise that I had no feelings in either direction. Janice nodded imperceptibly towards Nancy who visibly relaxed at the hoped for sign of forgiveness. We did not speak but at least the cutlery stopped tinkling. As we finished our breakfast, Julie realised that some further steps needed to be taken if the situation was to continue improving. The finals of the Pageant were starting soon and Julie had to be on stage later that morning. She decided to take a bold stroke.

”Would you four like to be my dressers for the pageant?”

“Ooh could we?” I squealed with delight.

The idea of being totally enmeshed in all that froth and frills amongst the prettiest sissies in the school had me twitching with anticipation.

“Only if all four of you are involved.” Stipulated Julie.

Nancy and Delilah were still a bit nervous but their suspicions of Julie had diminished. Julie’s reputation preceded her. She was known throughout the school as a soft-hearted, generous soul. I had been lucky to have her as my mentor at my regular table. The naughty sissies nodded and smiled wanly as Julie stood up and motioned us to follow her.

First we went by Julie’s study to collect her outfit then we set off for the pageant. When we got to the back-stage area I was mildly surprised to find that Julie had been preparing her stuff alone.

“Where are your other dressers?” Asked Janice.

“I don’t have any,” smiled Julie, “it was all my own work for the heats but now we need to pull something special out of the bag.”
Janice and I were suitably impressed. Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie had worked hard with our outfits and we had come nowhere in the heats. Even Nancy had come above Janice and me, and she had only had Delilah and some other classmates to help each other. I was of course ignorant of the hidden agenda behind the pageant, the ‘Naughty Sissy Auction’ factor. For Julie to have reached the finals was no small feat!

The back stage area was just like the dressing rooms of the chorus line in a big variety show. All the finalists were in various stages of undress as they primped their bodies and simpered inanely. I was not surprised at the casual attitudes to their nakedness but it was amusing to see poor Nancy and Delilah trying not to be noticed staring at all the tiny sissy clitties on display. As the naked, finalist sissies minced about checking for various items one could not help but notice that all the senior sissies resembled very attractive girls. Any full-blooded male would have probably exploded with an orgasmic delight at the sight of so much delightful feminine flesh and if he did not know better, he would have easily mistaken their sissy clitties for a real girl’s erected clitoris.

Unless a closer examination of a sissy’s crotch was made, a ‘normal’ sissy from Mistress Janet’s Academy resembled a girl to all outward appearances. One would have to spread their legs and probe intimately to determine that they had no other equipment to pleasure a man down there, unless of course they used their rear ‘sissy holes’.

The only equipment a sissy had was her dainty little sissy clitty with which to pleasure herself and frot another girl or sissy companion. If the sissy had graduated from Mistress Janet’s academy, Penetration was usually beyond that sissy’s sexual repertoire unless special arrangement had been made whilst she was growing up. I was to be one of those ‘special arrangements’. I was to keep a vestigial penis but nothing like as large as a proper man’s.

For dressing duties , we four had little to do for Juliet. Apart from lacing her corset and holding out her clothes as she dressed, there was little for us to do. Juliet was obviously an expert in dressing herself. The sum total of Julie’s normal mistress’s duties appeared to be tightening up her stays each morning and helping with her toilet when necessary. I was surprised to learn that Julie’s regular Mistress had not even come to the pageant.

“She’s a senior and she’s attending interviews for college.” Replied Julie. “That is one of the few acceptable excuses for not attending the pageant.”

“And yet you reached the final unassisted,” observed Janice. “I’m impressed!”

“Why thank you darling. Can you pass me that hooped under skirt please?”

Before Janice could turn, Nancy had seized the skirt and eagerly handed it to Julie. It was obvious that she was desperate to help. Julie thanked her and hugged her affectionately as Nancy savoured the rare display of affection. Janice smiled and shrugged. It was obvious that Nancy and Delilah had been deprived of affection throughout their childhood, hence their development into abusive, predatory attackers. Juliet seemed to sense this as she reached out and pecked Nancy on her cheek. Nancy turned scarlet with embarrassed delight and her smile lit up her face. Even I began to feel a soft spot for Nancy. She was so easy to please. Just a soft kiss and a tiny display of affection was all she craved. Julie had obviously realised this and she smiled towards Delilah as she motioned towards the first of the frothy petticoats. Delilah eagerly stepped forward and arranged the petticoat as a delicious lagoon of frills and organza on the floor. Julie spread her corseted legs as wide as her corset would allow then stepped delicately into the centre. Delilah then beamed with pleasure as she lifted the petticoat up Juliet’s legs, over her hips and tied the laces around Juliet’s incredibly slender, corseted waist. Julie was now imprisoned in her corset and petticoats until we, her assistants, released her after the Pageant.

Next came the main dress, which of course, had a skirt made from a mass of frills and bows looped and scalloped from hem to waist.
The bodice of the dress was just plain satin though the bust sections were daintily embroidered. Next came the cape and this was were Julie’s dressmaker had really excelled. I smiled at Delilah as she selected the cape out of the box and fingered it enviously. She turned to me and sighed.

“I wish I could have something like this. It’s just so pretty.”

“Pretty!” I chided with a smile. “Just Pretty! Why it’s delightful! It’s fantastic! It’s Fabulous!”

Delilah crimsoned slightly and turned her eyes again to the ground.

“Yes. It is deli,- del,- delicious, - yes. Your good with words.”

This was my first intimation that Delilah and Nancy were being bimboised. One of the first signs of bimboisation was a deterioration in numeracy and literacy. It had taken mental effort for Delilah to find the word ‘delicious’ in her deteriorating vocabulary. I gave Delilah an ‘old look’ but kept my counsel. There was no need to mock somebody who was already developing problems with her cogniscence. I secretly thought that being bimboised would be a suitable punishment for the individuals who had so traumatised me in the park.

Julie brought me out of my introspections as she gently stroked me on the wrist.

“Are you going to stand there daydreaming all day or are you going to help me with my hair?”

My skills at hairdressing were becoming known throughout the lower school and I nodded my head as I returned to the task in hand namely preparing Julie for the pageant. Julie sat in the chair and I set to putting her hair up in a series of tight rolls in the front whilst setting the sides and back to cascade in a shower of glossy light brown curls. Julie’s hair was not a spectacular colour, just your everyday mousy brown, but it was certainly in good condition. It veritably shone with a deep reflective lustre. I felt it best to set the sides and back in thick bouncing curls that would catch the light with every flick and bounce. When I had finished, Julie studied it and frowned slightly. She wasn’t very happy but then I turned the spotlight on it, just as she would be highlighted on the stage and I told her to toss her head. She did as instructed and gasped with delight as the hair veritably sparkled as the sheen scattered the light.

No matter which way she stood with respect to the spotlight, the bouncing curls caused some part of her hair to reflect the spotlight’s rays. Julie beamed with delight whilst Nancy and Delilah squealed with sissyish enthusiasm as they simpered and minced with bimboish admiration.

For two vicious boys who had been abusive sex attackers just nine months earlier, Nancy and Delilah had come an awfully long way.

They turned to me and begged me to do their hair when they came back for the start of the summer term. I made no promises but offered to see what I could do. As a precursor to making any deals about their hair I asked them to remove their wigs. They did this reluctantly because every sissy considered their hair to be an essential part of sissy-hood. No sissy liked to admit or reveal that she didn’t have a crowning glory of thick lustrous hair. They removed their wigs and sighed apologetically but I made light of their tonsorial shortfalls.

“Your hair is like mine.” I observed as I ran my fingers through their heads, “It’s just above the shoulder. That’s still rather short for a sissy, but I’ll see what can be done.”

The pair took this as a ‘yes’ (which in truth it was,) and they pranced exquisitely as their emotions overtook them. Janice looked a little askance at their effeminate little jig as the sissies simpered and giggled with joy. Then she smiled indulgently and sat down beside Juliet to discuss makeup. The moment Nancy and Delilah realised that this stage had been reached, they immediately calmed down and watched like a pair of hawks to garnish tips and ideas as Janice and Julie discussed Julie’s ‘Bo-peep look’.

As a pair of bimboised sissies, Delilah and Nancy’ would find that make-up skills, hair styles and clothes would become vital aspects of their limited perspectives, whilst even the most mundane intellectual duties such as lifestyle choices or personal finances would quickly bypass their vacuous little airheads. Bimboised sissies became almost totally dependant upon their mistresses for all aspect of their lives except their appearances. Mistress Janet’s ‘Bimbo pills’ were powerful medications.
As Janice and Julie set about the make-up plan I sat back and reflected upon the two simpering bimbos who sat staring mesmerised at Janice's skills. I just could not connect them to the vicious thugs of nine months earlier. They were just so effeminate and vacuous.

They caught me studying them and they smiled shyly. I could not resist smiling back and they both twitched with pleasure. The poor little things were just so bimboised, it was almost funny. They took my smile as an invitation for deeper friendliness and after Janice had completed her make-up job on Julie, Nancy and Delilah cautiously approached me. Janice noticed their actions but took a step back and just watched. There was no threat from the pair now. They asked to sit beside me and I agreed so they perched one on each arm of the large overstuffed armchair that I occupied.

After making themselves as comfortable as their corsets allowed they spoke almost reverently.

“Can we be friends?” They begged.

“Are you sorry for what you did? Really sorry!”

They nodded and tears glistened in their eyes.

“Yes.” They replied softly. “We were horrible then.”

“What did your mummies say when they found out?” Asked Janice.

“Nothing,” Nancy replied, “they didn’t even come to court.”

“Yes. I noticed that.” Observed Janice. “Why didn’t they come? What did your fathers say?”

“Fathers! Huh, what fathers?” Riposted Delilah.”

But didn’t they care a jot?”

“We haven’t seen our fathers since we were about five.” Added Nancy.

“So who comes to visit you, here at Mistress Janet’s.” Pressed Janice.

“Nobody. We don’t even go home at holiday time. It’s like a prison.” Replied Nancy.

“Except we don’t get any visitors,” added Delilah.

“Well you are being punished after all, as well as having your personalities modified to stop your repeat offending.” Countered Janice.

They both nodded and looked down at their utterly feminised bodies and tiny fourteen-inch sissy waists. This action alone spoke volumes.

There was no need for any more comment. Both Nancy and Delilah were utterly feminised and physically weak. There was no way that either of them would ever be able to hurt another person again. Their slender arms, tiny waists, delicate features and soft curved legs screamed ‘Victim! Take me! I’m a helpless little sissy. Don’t hurt me please!
I reflected on the Biblical words, ‘Oh how the mighty had fallen’!

As we sat silently considering our burgeoning friendship the tannoy called the contestants to the stage. We all clamoured around Julie and wished her luck as she joined the line of contestants then they stepped out into the glare of the spotlights. We joined the other dressers and assistants as we all watched and hoped from the wings.

Julie came second, which was pretty good for a middle-schooler. When she came off the stage, she sighed with disappointment.

“That Rosalind Bentley must have spent hundreds of pounds on that outfit and her mother’s a professional couturier.”

“That’s not the only reason,” interrupted another senior sissy contestant as she approached Julie to congratulate her on coming second.

“Why’s that?” Asked Julie as she un-pinned her bonnet.”

“Rosalind’s a senior.” Replied the sissy. “It’s always the seniors who win. It’s all to do with sissies finding mistresses. Juniors and middle-school pupils only ever come second or third if they ever get placed at all. It’s just an auction really. You’ve done really well to come second. Who did your hair and make-up?”

Julie introduced Janice and me to the senior sissy who gave us a genuine smile.

"You’ve done a really good number on Julie. You’ve got a future there. Don’t let them bimboise you. It would be a pity to lose those skills.

“We’re not going to be bimboised.” Replied Janice. “Our Auntie has made that quite clear.”

“Lucky for you. What about these two?” She asked as she turned to Nancy and Delilah.

“Oh they’re well up for it.” Grinned Janice. “They’re on their way already. They can’t use words with more than three syllables any more.”

The senior girl smiled sympathetically.

“Well, let’s hope they get nice kind mistresses. At least they might find happiness if their mistresses are kindly souls.”
We fell silent as we reflected on the senior sissy’s words. She had only voiced what was every sissy’s secret fear. ‘What will happen if I end up being sold to a cruel mistress?’

I secretly thanked my lucky stars that Auntie Bev had already promised Janice and me that we could choose our own careers if we did well academically. At the same time I turned to Nancy and Delilah for they had not said a word throughout our conversation about them. To my surprise they did not even seem concerned. They were too busy checking out their fingernails and hair in one of the backstage mirrors! I genuinely wondered if our conversation about their fate had even registered in their pretty little heads.

‘But then again,’ I reasoned, ‘Perhaps they had not even heard our conversation. They seemed to be utterly preoccupied with primping their hair and admiring their images in the mirror.’

I motioned secretly to Janice and after making our excuses with Juliet, we slipped away un-noticed. Back in our study we were alone for the first time that day and we lay on the bed as we chatted about Nancy and Delilah.

“But they seem so un-concerned.” I argued. They’re almost like sheep the way they seem to accept their fate.”

I shuddered as I said these words but Janice shrugged.

“Then I suppose they’ll be happy with whatever becomes them. Sometimes when I’m studying long into the night, I envy them their stupidity. Perhaps they’ll be happier as a pair of servile, vacuous bimbos."

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Where are Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie?”

“I dunno. They’re probably in the main marquee. Everybody seems to be gathering for the prize-giving.”

“Shall we go?” I asked idly.

“D’you want to?” Replied Janice. “That senior sissy said it was all a fix anyway.”

Suddenly there was a knocking on the door. Janice wriggled off the bed and slipped into her shoes to answer the door. A senior sissy stood breathless and pale as she struggled to regain her composure after rushing up the stairs.

“Why aren’t you two at the prize-giving?”

“What for? Asked Janice. “It’s not compulsory is it?”

“It is if you’ve won a prize!”

“Who? What prize? Who’s it for,”

“It’s for Michelle you silly sissies! Which one of you is Michelle? Julie’s hair won a prize and it goes to her hairdresser. Julie said Michelle did it. Was it you?”

“Well, - yes, - I.”

“Well you’d better get down there. They don’t take kindly to prize-winners not accepting their prizes.”

“Crickey! I didn’t even know. I mean I, -.”

“Well you’re keeping them waiting. And sissies don’t keep mistresses waiting! Go on! Hurry up!”

I swallowed nervously and minced off as fast as my corset allowed. Finally I arrived quite flushed and breathless. Mistress Janet stared angrily at me and demanded to know where I had been. I courtesied as low as my corset allowed.

“I had a bit of a bad tummy, Mistress. I’m sorry, I went to lie down!”

She gave me a knowing stare but said nothing more. To tell the truth I was now looking a bit pale and queasy but that was through nervousness not illness. My excuse just managed to pass muster and after a short speech, Mistress Janet handed me my prize. It was a complete hairdressing outfit. I thanked her profusely and sidled to the back of the stage to try and look invisible. Julie reached out and squeezed my hand as she waited for second prize.

“Well done Michelle. All the girls will want you to do their hair now. And you so young as well.”

“I’m blowed if I’m going to become hairdresser to the school!” I whispered angrily.

“Do you have a choice?” Wondered Julie, hinting slightly of that menace that always seemed to pervade the halls of Mistress Janet’s academy.

I fell silent. There were so many contradictions for me to consider. In the first place I enjoyed being a sissy for I was after all a full-blown heterosexual transvestite, a she-male no less! But the underlying threat of facing a life of hostile servility to some brutal mistress if I somehow offended the school’s authority seemed to me unfairly harsh. I kept my counsel and resolved to always keep a low profile. In the first instance this entailed standing far back on the stage and simply clapping politely as the various winners collected their trophies. Fortunately there was no more reference to Julie’s hair. She collected her second prize and we savoured her success. Finally, the prize giving was concluded with a rousing cheer for Rosalind Bentley as she collected her first prize. The celebrations continued into the evening and we did not get to bed until midnight. Janice and I fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow.