This is the first chapter of 'The sissy farm.
It's been sitting for years on fictionmania so many might have read it before. Still it's a nice story. If you like sissydom; that is.

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Sissy Farm
Chapter 1

The Sissy Farm. Part 1.

List of Characters.

Me. Michael. A natural sissy

Aunty Beverly My mother’s sister. (Who adopted me aged 10.)

Janice. My Younger Sister.

Unable to resist the delicious image I twirled again in the mirror then started to undress. As I slipped off the silky stockings I stood up one last time to savour the pretty frillies. Suddenly I stopped as I heard my aunt’s call from across the landing.

“Michael!”

“Yes Aunty.” I replied as I stopped twirling in the mirror and froze nervously.

“Be a darling. Come and help me lace up. The laces have become tangled again.”

“Damn!” I cursed silently as I struggled to remove the bra and panties I had been secretly wearing during the night.

Fortunately I had already removed the nightie, suspender belt and stockings so it was but a moment to whip off the bra and panties, though the bra was a bit tight. Then I stepped into the boy’s underpants that I had flung under the bed the previous evening. I frowned as the rough material of my underpants hugged my bum. I much preferred the deliciously silky panties that had felt infinitely nicer under my satiny nightie during the night but Aunty Beverly had called so it behoved me to obey.
First I’d better explain some stuff.

Aunty Beverly had adopted my sister and me after my mother and father were killed in a motoring accident. She had a large house with plenty of space so she had arranged with the social services to adopt my younger sister Janice and me. It seemed an obvious choice. Aunty Bev was my mother’s sister and she was a beautiful kind woman. Janice and I worshipped her
Janice was too young to help with Aunty Bev’s corsets but I was now ten and strong enough to tug the laces and tie a proper bow. Within weeks of coming to live with Aunty Bev we had both fallen under her spell. I had always been secretly fascinated with my mother’s clothes and even my sister Janice’s so when Aunty got in a tangle one morning with her corset laces it was a heaven sent opportunity for me.

I had been passing her bedroom when I heard her let out a snort of frustration as she struggled impatiently. Eventually she let out a curse and I hesitated outside her door.

“Is everything alright aunty?” I called out respectfully.

“No darling. I’m a bit stuck.” She replied.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh it’s these confounded laces. They’ve got tangled again.”

“D’you need a hand?”

“Well I do actually petal but I’m a bit ‘au-natural’ darling.” (‘Petal’ was a term of endearment Aunty Bev used on everybody she was fond of.)
I paused confusedly.

“Au- what?”

“Au-natural dear. It’s French. It means I’m naked; except for my corset that is.”

“I won’t look. I’ll close my eyes,” I offered, “I’m good with knots.”

“Oh would you darling. That would be just so helpful.”

I knocked softly and she invited me in. With my eyes tightly screwed shut I opened the door, entered and stood there blindly with my arms extended. Aunty Bev let out a little giggle then minced over to me and presented her back to my outstretched fingers.

“Just try and undo this tangle here,” she instructed as she led my outstretched fingers to the knot.

“I fiddled ineffectively for a few seconds then gave up.”

“It’s no good aunty, I can’t see. I’ll have to open my eyes.”

“Oh go on then. You’ll only see my back.”

Once able to see, I quickly freed the tangled laces and held the ends in my hands.

“They’ve come unthreaded aunty, that’s why they got tangled. The long, loose ends got crossed somehow. There’s three pairs of lace holes empty.”

“Oh dash!” She giggled again. Then you’d better thread them back again.

I studied the pattern and stood momentarily perplexed before asking.

“Do they cross over alternately or in parallel pairs? The pattern changes two holes up and it’s hard to tell.”

“Oh fiddle. Here let me see.”

She turned unthinkingly in the loosened corset and suddenly presented me with a full frontal view of her breasts and lower parts.

For a moment I stood stupidly gaping then remembered my manners and quickly shut my eyes. Aunty Beverly let out a gasp of amusement then bent down to kiss me on the forehead.

“Why you’re a proper little gentleman. You’re just so sweet. Don’t be embarrassed. Here, let me show you how the laces are threaded.”

I nervously opened my eyes again but Aunty Bev was still bare except for the corset around her midriff. She assured me that there was nothing wrong with seeing a girl naked then she showed me how to thread the laces.

“Here.” She observed. “I’ll unthread it again then you can practice in case of the next time.”

With trembling fingers I fumbled a bit before finally slipping the laces into the proper lace holes and working them down from under her beautiful breasts, past her narrow waist and finally to the ripe curve of her bum.
At first Aunty Beverly’s beautiful breasts were wobbling provocatively right in my eyes then I worked the laces further down the corset. It was the first time I had ever touched a naked woman and my fingers couldn’t help lingering on the soft peachy flesh. Her skin was just so-oo smooth and squijee and nice. Aunty Beverly looked down and smiled as I finally threaded the last lace. By now I was kneeling in front of her and my eyes and fingers were very close to her tummy just above some golden curls she had lower down. My eyes lingered curiously for a few seconds and I’m sure Aunty Beverly sensed my curiosity as she spoke again.

“Now you’ll have to twist the whole corset around so that the laces are at the back,” said Aunty Bev.

At this, I had to grasp the lower edge of the corset and tug gently as Aunty Beverly tugged the top portion around until the whole garment had moved around her body and now had the laces going up the back.

“Good,” she sighed, “Now you’ll have to tug on the laces and work the loose bights down the eyelets.”

I grasped what she meant and soon had the corset nice and firm around her body. Aunty Beverly let out a sigh of satisfaction and turned again to face me. My eyes fell to her tiny waist and I felt a strange feeling flutter through me as she smiled again and bent down to kiss me on the lips.

“Why you’re just such a perfect little helper darling! Who would ever want a lady’s maid when there are little gentlemen like you to help?”

She reached her arms around me and hugged me to her as my face got buried in her soft bountiful breasts. I was in heaven. I had not felt such a lovely hug since my mother had died. Aunty Bev was just so kind. Finally she released me and gave me a thoughtful look as she released me from my duties.

I walked reluctantly from her presence and resumed my own bathroom duties but I had sprouted a huge stiffy in my pee-pee. She must have seen it under my underpants but I was still a bit innocent and thought nothing of her having probably seen it.
Anyway, that had been the very first time I had helped Aunty Beverly.

Chapter 2 describes Michael's being 'discovered' and the ensuing consequenses.

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Chapter 2 The Sissy Farm.

.
Now I had received another call for assistance from Aunty Bev.
Since adopting me and training me how to lace up her corset, Aunty Bev oft-times called me across the landing if she had trouble tying off her corset. Usually I was up and dressed so it was no problem but this time, because I had been exploring the wonderful sensations of my newly acquired stash of frillies I had risen late. (Mummy and Daddy’s estate had been wound up and the last bits had been delivered to Aunty Beverly.) I had been at the house when the boxes arrived and I had put some of mummy’s boxes to one side to decide what I wanted to keep as mementos. Several of the boxes contained her lingerie and I was fascinated by the smell and textures that reminded me of her.

It was this reason I was late the fateful morning. I had been wearing some of mummy’s lingerie in bed. Consequently I had failed to get dressed in time when Aunty Beverly called me. After stripping my lingerie and wearing just my underpants, I stepped across the landing to attend to my aunt’s request.

By now I was used to Seeing Aunty Beverly naked so I simply knocked softly then paused momentarily on the landing before entering. Aunty Beverly was standing with her back to me and holding out the laces of her corset. Without hesitating, I took the laces and started to tighten them as she smiled at me in the large mirror on the wardrobe door. I smiled back and noticed her smile turn to a slightly puzzled stare. I paid it no heed and continued tugging at the laces until we were mutually satisfied with the fit. It was only then that Aunty Bev spoke as she turned around to face me.

“What are those marks on your shoulders darling?” She asked.

For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about until she reached forward and traced her fingers over my shoulders and under my adolescent pectorals.

“What marks aunty?” I replied innocently.

“These marks Michael. Look. They go over your shoulders then disappear only to reappear as two curves under your pectorals and a strap mark around your back. Have you been wearing a bra?”

Suddenly my world fell to pieces and I almost fainted as I realised there was no way of denying the existence of such distinctive marks. It had only been the second time I had done it and I had totally failed to realise that bra’s left pressure marks. As I turned to check my body out in her giant mirror there was no mistaking the obvious red marks. I glanced down at my shoulders and there was no denying the two angry red, distinct indentations where I had worn my bra’s shoulder straps as tight as I could get them. I had even tied knots in the straps to make them shorter because it had been one of my mother’s old bras. Both knot marks were quite obvious halfway down my back just above the chest band where the clasp had left another very distinct mark in the small of my slender back.

These strap marks, coupled with the distinctive curves of the under-wired cups, made it look as though somebody had painted a red bra outline on my upper body.

Having realised I was caught totally, I just slumped down tearfully on Aunty Beverly’s bed. Fortunately, if Aunty Beverly was shocked or angry, she did not show it. Instead she sighed softly then sat on the bed beside me and put her arms around my heaving shoulders. After waiting for my tears to abate she heaved a deep breath then smiled and spoke softly.

“I take it that you have then.”

I nodded my confession then buried my face in her soft breast again as though somehow begging absolution. Aunty Beverly gently prised my face from her ripe cleavage and took my jaw in her fingers. Gazing into my upturned eyes she smiled softly.

“Do you like wearing them?”

I was about to deny it but the evidence was totally to the contrary. The marks said it all. I had obviously been wearing a bra during the night and nobody had forced me. Aunty Beverly smiled into my eyes again and leant forward to kiss me full on the lips.

“Don’t be afraid darling. I’m not angry.”

“A, - aren’t you?” I sobbed as I savoured the touch of her full lips against mine.

‘Gosh her lips are just so soft,’ I thought abstractedly, not wanting her to release the kiss.

Aunty Beverly seemed to sense my need and let the kiss linger. This gave me reassurance and I eventually calmed down. Aunty Beverly then started to question me gently, but thoroughly.

“Whose underwear is it?”

“Mummy’s,” I gulped guiltily. “It came yesterday and I like to keep some to remember her by.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. We all loved your mummy. But don’t you have any proper mementos? Perhaps a ring or something.”

“N, - n, - no. Janice got all mummy’s stuff. I’ve got nothing. I’ve got dad’s stuff but there isn’t much and it’s sort of plain. Janice has got all sorts of lovely jewellery and stuff. It’s not fair.

“Do you like wearing your mummy’s lingerie or is it just to remind you of her?”

I hesitated nervously. The truth was, girl’s panties and stuff had always fascinated me. The arrival of mummy’s stuff had just been such a wonderful opportunity to expand my collection. Now I didn’t have to steal Janice’s panties. Nevertheless it was nice to still smell mummy’s scent on them. Reluctantly I confessed.

“I like it. I like the silky feeling. These boy’s pants are just so rough. Uugh”
As I spoke, I picked at the waistband of my boy’s underpants and pulled a discontented face. Aunty Beverly smiled.

“So you definitely prefer panties then.” She observed as her smile turned to a knowing, tight-lipped grin.”

“Yes,” I admitted quite openly, “why can’t boys have nice silky pants? Girls get all the nice stuff.”

“Well would you, - ahem, - prefer to be a girl then darling?” Whispered Aunty Beverly as she caught a husky, little croak in her throat.

“No, but I like to wear silky panties, - and frills and stuff,” I added as an afterthought.

“Would you like to live as a girl then, a sissy perhaps.”

“What’s a sissy?” I asked.

“A sissy is a boy who likes to appear as a girl but gets to be a boy and stay a boy. They usually live as maids helping their mistresses and seeing to their needs.”

“You mean like helping you with your corset?”

Aunty Beverly hesitated then smiled with a glitter of excitement in her eye.

“Why that’s exactly how they are. Yes, helping with my corset is exactly the sort of things sissies do for their mistresses.”

She gave me another hug and I savoured once more the delectable pleasure of burying my tearful face in her ripe soft breasts. Aunty Beverly giggled as she reached for a tissue and wiped my tears from her cleavage. I stared at her and reached out for the tissue from her hand.

“Here, let me do that, I made them wet.”

Aunty Beverly giggled slightly then released the tissue and allowed my fingers to gently dab the tear stains from her breasts. I noticed there were some damp bits around her firm pink nipples so I gently dabbed those as well. Aunty Beverly gasped then sagged.

“Oo-oh Michael! You’re such a caring little sissy. Would you like to help me with my bra?”

“Where is it?” I asked.

“In the top, right-hand draw of my dressing table. Get a blue one to match my corset, and while your there you’ll find some matching panties and a suspender belt in the second drawer.”

Showing a bit too much eagerness, I slipped off Aunty Bev’s bed and stepped over to the dressing table. In seconds I had selected the perfect set. Aunty Beverly smiled knowingly.

“That was quick Petal. Methinks you know a bit more about lingerie than you’re letting on, don’t you darling?”

I smiled bashfully but secretly felt proud that I had been so efficient. Boldly I offered more help.

“Shall I get your stockings?”

“Yes. But be careful. Don’t ladder them. Let me see your hands first.”

I held out my hands and Aunty Beverly studied them thoughtfully.

“They’re very soft and smooth Michael. You must look after them very well.”

“I use the hand cream in the bathroom. It’s Janice’s but Janice told me to use it if I want to keep my hands from getting cracked and rough. She likes my hands to be smooth when I help to bathe her.”

“What! You help your little sister!”

“Yes. She likes me to do her back. I thought you knew.”

“No. I didn’t. I’ve been a bit remiss in the bathroom area. Doesn’t she mind?”

“No. Mummy used to do it but mummy’s go, - gone, so I do it.” (Here a tear came to my eye as I remembered mummy washing us tenderly in the bath. The washing thing was Janice’s favourite memory and I had become a substitute to perpetuate Janice’s memories.) I continued explaining.

“At first, Janice said my hands were a bit rough so she showed me how to use her hand and face cream to make them soft. She says my hands feel like mummy’s now and she likes it.”

Aunty Janet’s jaw sagged with mild amazement as she fingered my hands again then she spoke softly.

“Well, you’re hands are certainly nice and soft. They’ll be perfectly safe to handle my nylons. Let’s look at your nails.”

I presented my nails for inspection stretching my fingers out with my palms down. Aunty Beverly smiled at the feminine gesture but said nothing. I later learned that boys usually studied their nails with their palms up and fingers curled around like a half-fist. I guess I was already destined to be a sissy. Truth to tell, my nails were a bit chipped and rough but Aunty Bev soon addressed that.

“We’ll put my bra and panties on then we’ll do your nails so that you won’t ladder my stockings.”

Eagerly I held out the bra and Aunty Bev slipped her arms through the shoulder loops before instructing me how to clip up the back. Then she explained.

“Normally. When I’m by myself, I clip the bra around my waist then slide it around like we slid the corset the first time. Now
that I have a sissy to help dress me I can simply hold out my arms while you clip it up at the back.”
She turned to face me again with the bra cups under her breasts and explained the next step.

“Now you have to load the cups.”

I crimsoned slightly and held out my palms uncertainly.

“How do I do that?”

Aunty Beverly smiled softly. Her breasts were a lovely firm, largish C or smallish D size but I would learn of such stuff much later in my life. She took my trembling hands and gently fed them under her right breast so that my hands served as shoe-horns. Gently she helped me spoon the delightful, ripe, firm globe into the cup then she showed my how to arrange the nipple so that it stood out pronouncedly without rubbing against the seam.

She let out a little squeak followed by a gasp as I followed her instructions and gently re-positioned the stiff little nubbin so that it was contained by the smooth silky material and not irritated by the seam.

“Oo-oh your such a splendid little helper Michael. Would you like to do the other one?”

Not realising that Aunty Beverly was getting turned on, I innocently cupped her other globe then spooned that one into it’s appropriate support before gently diddling the stiff little thimble sized nubbin so that it was clear of the seam. Aunty Beverly let out a groan of satisfaction then collapsed onto the bed as she raised her long slender legs.

“Put my panties on darling.”

For a moment I thought she meant for me to put her panties on me then I realised she meant put them on her. Aunty Bev smiled then waved her beautiful curved legs at the knees and smiled invitingly as she held out her panties. As she held them by the waistband my eyes fixed on the obvious womanly shape and cut decorated with beautiful ivory frills that matched the seaming on her blue corset and the delicate, lacy, ivory edging on her bra.

“Hurry up Petal. A lady doesn’t like to be kept hanging around without panties.”

“Oh! Sorry aunty,” I apologised as I took the panties then kneeled down as I slid them over her toes and up her smooth sensuous legs. As I reached above her knees, she stood up from the bed and my eyes fell directly onto the soft golden curls that seemed to hide a secret that I could not quite discern. I knew that girls were totally different because I had seen my little sister Janice hundreds of times but somehow; Aunty Bev’s seemed different. Instead of a simple single slit I could vaguely discern some extra fleshy bits that looked like dark wet lips. However I knew it was rude to stare and after a moment’s surprised hesitation I slid the panties up her thighs and over her bum.

“There, that’s better,” she sighed. “A lady doesn’t like to feel too exposed and vulnerable without her panties does she?”

“No Aunty Bev.” I gulped as I stepped nervously backwards.

“Now,” she continued. “Before you can slip my stockings on, I’d better attend to those nails of yours. I don’t want you laddering them do I?”

“No Aunty,” I replied as I nervously extended my hands.

She gently took my wrists and led me to her dressing table. There she sat me down on her lap and made me extend my nails as she selected a suitable emery strip from a packet by the nail varnishes.

“Now this is how we do them see,” she explained softly as she took each finger individually then buffed them gently as she worked out all the snags and hangnails.

“For a little boy, your nails aren’t bad darling,” she observed. “I was expecting this to be a long job but it’s not bad.
The aim is to get each nail into a nice regular oval shape and look; apart from you’re fore fingers and index fingers the others look pretty good. Now, we’d better get them nice and glossy to smooth out any surface roughness.”

I gasped as she reached out for a bottle of nail varnish and protested nervously.

“I, - can’t wear nail varnish! Aunty Bev! People will see.”

“No, no darling. This is clear varnish. It just strengthens and smoothes your nails. Your nails will be a bit glossier but nobody will notice I assure you.”

I agreed reluctantly and Aunty Bev gave me another soft kiss on my neck as she unscrewed the bottle and sat poised with the loaded brush. I extended my hands sissy style again and she gently layered the polish on with well-practised strokes. As she concentrated silently on my nails, Janice appeared unannounced. She gave both Aunty Bev and me a start as she appeared silently at our side.

“Oh!” I squeaked nervously as Aunty Bev finished the last nail.

“Watcha doing?” Asked Janice as she peered intently at my fingers.

Aunty Bev was nothing if not quick thinking.

“I’m treating Michael’s nails. They were badly cracked. This will stop them becoming rough and broken.”

Janice immediately studied her nails which were somewhat badly chewed and very rough. Aunty Bev immediately took Janice's fingers in her hand and frowned.

“Gosh Sweetypie, Those are an awful mess. You mustn’t chew them. Look at Michael’s, aren’t they rather smart now they’ve been treated?”

“I want mine like that.” Demanded Janice peremptorily.

“Well Sweetypie. All I can do for now is smooth the ends and paint them to make them glossy. Then next week, after they’ve grown a bit, we might be able to make them look pretty, but you mustn’t chew them darling.”

With these words, Aunty Bev eased me off her lap and invited Janice to climb up. As I slid down, Aunty Bev noticed my stiffy and she gave it a little squeeze as she whispered softly in my ear.

“After your nails have dried, you’d better get rid of this little friend. I’ll be some while with Janice. Her nails are a mess as well.”

Fortunately, I was able to slip out of the room with my back to Janice so she didn’t see my ‘condition’. As I stepped away Aunty Bev called out.

“Wait for your nails to dry first. It’ll take a good few minutes.”

I escaped to the bathroom with relief and sat on the loo waving my hands around to dry my nails. As I did so, I smiled as I heard Janice and Aunty Bev giggling and tittering. Had I known what they were giggling about, I might not have been so pleased.

Having been 'read by her Auntie Beverly, Michael, (Now Michelle,) starts out on the sweetest of journeys as a sissy.
She enjoys her first delightful shopping expedition and learns of the joys of shopping for clothes.
Such a lucky, lucky sissy!

PS. Ignore the little message at the end. This was during my posting to Fictionmania. I'll still be posting the new chapters to FM. It's important not to forget ones roots.

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Chapter 3 The Sissy farm.

By the time I had dried my nails and remedied my ‘condition’ I returned to find Janice sitting on Aunty Bev’s bed while Aunty Bev was combing her hair. Janice was obviously enjoying the attention and I could not help but look enviously as the comb slid easily through her long, golden, lustrous hair. Aunty Bev caught my envious look and smiled knowingly as she swept her hands under Janice’s hair and it cascaded softly over Janice's shoulders. It looked just like the hair in a shampoo advert.

“D’you like her hair?”

I nodded enviously and settled on the bed beside my little sister. She turned and smiled at me and I couldn’t resist sweeping my hands under her hair to watch it cascade again down her shoulders.

“It’s lovely.” I sighed.

“D’you think you’d like hair like this?” Asked Aunty Bev as she repeated the cascade thing one last time.

“It’s very nice, but I’m a boy.”

At this Janice turned again and smiled as she revealed what she and Aunty Bev had been talking about as Aunty Bev had been treating her nails and combing her hair.

“You could have hair like this if you were a sissy.”

For a moment I blushed then frowned painfully as I realised the Aunty Bev had revealed more than she should. I cried despairingly.

“You shouldn’t have sai, -“

Aunty Bev gently placed her finger on my lips and ‘shushed’ me to be silent.

“Don’t be upset. Janice says she’d love it if she had a sister.”

“But I’m a boy! How can I be her sister?”

Janice interrupted eagerly.

“You could be my sissy friend. Dress just like a girl and then be my sister.”

“But what about g, - going out? What about school?”

Janice fell silent. I suspected she’d thought of me being something like a doll to play with. She hadn’t thought about the other stuff. Aunty Bev intervened.

“You’ve only just moved here during the holidays. You haven’t even been enrolled in a school yet. We could dress you up as a girl and send you to a special school, a school for sissies.”

I fell silent. I had never heard of such a thing as a school for sissies. Whilst being nervous, the idea intrigued me.

“A school for sissies. What’s that like?”

Aunty Bev smiled and stood up.

“I’ll explain while you put my stockings on. Go and get the garter belt and the stockings.

I picked them up off the dressing table and returned with them as I felt the seven denier stockings hiss delicately over my smooth soft hands. Aunty Bev smiled as she recognised the feminine nature of my girlish hands.

“See darling, aren’t they just so delicate and smooth. Now clip my suspender belt around my waist.”

I did this as Janice watched in fascination then Aunty Bev sat down on the dressing table stool and extended one leg gracefully. I unthinkingly tucked the stocking into a ‘rabbit-hole’ and checked the seam before slowly working the stocking up Aunty Beverly’s long smooth leg.

“Methinks you’ve done this before my little sissy. That was just perfect.”

So saying she stood up and I carefully clipped the suspenders to the stocking welt. There were three clips for each stocking and I savoured the closeness of my face to Aunty Bev’s lady parts as I fiddled with the clips and sensed her soft peachy skin. Then she had me ‘adjust’ them so that the tension was just right. She gave a little shudder as I smoothed the welt and adjusted the stocking top right up close to her secret parts.

“That’s uh-uh close enough my little sissy, thank you!”

I sensed that Aunty Bev was enjoying this every bit as much as I and I stood up again proffering the second stocking. She sighed and sat down on the stool again as I repeated the process with her other leg.

Eventually Aunty Bev stood there in her beautiful lingerie and did a twirl in the mirror. Janice gave an excited little clap whilst I just stood staring enviously. I was totally under the spell of lingerie and Aunty Beverly could readily see it.

“You two had better go and get dressed if we’re going shopping girls.”

I hesitated as a shiver of anticipation swept through my body.

“Had Aunty Beverly just called me a girl? I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of this, but then, - girls seemed to have all the nice clothes.”

Once back in my own bedroom, I felt a twinge of indecision and I stood staring at the heap of dishevelled underwear hurriedly stuffed under my bed.

‘Did Aunty Bev really call me a girl?’ I thought as my toe prodded uncertainly at the discarded lingerie.
Reluctantly, I decided I would not risk going out whilst secretly wearing ladies lingerie.
‘What if I had an accident?’ I pondered. ‘No it had to be boy’s pants and I reluctantly kept on the pair I had been wearing since getting up.

Slowly I opened my wardrobe drawer and took out a tee shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. Then I chose my favourite trainers and pushed my feet into a fresh pair of socks. Within moments I was ready and I bounced down the stairs to make my breakfast. As I dug into my quickly prepared porridge Aunty Beverly and Janice appeared. Aunty Bev glanced at my outfit and I saw a flicker of disappointment cross her eyes. She and Janice were dressed in smart outfits and I could see the regret in Aunty Bev’s eyes.

“I’ll, - I’ll go and change if you want. I didn’t think it was to be an important day.”

“N, - no. It’s OK Michael.” Replied Aunty Bev. “It’s just that I was hoping this would be a special day, especially for you.”

“Why?”

“Well, the shopping was mainly for you. You know, - some special stuff.”

My eyes widened with surprise as I realised what she was talking about.

“What you mean girly stu, -” I suddenly realised what I was saying in front of Janice and I quickly stopped talking.

“Well. Well yes darling. The other stuff obviously doesn’t fit.”

“But Aunty Bev. I can’t, - you know, - just go and buy stuff like that. I mean I’m a boy.”

“It has to start somewhere darling if you really like being a sissy.”

My lower lip trembled a bit as indecision started to take a grip of my self-confidence.

“But Aunty,” I whined. “I mean going into a girl’s shop and, -“

“Very well then, if you don’t want to come, you can stay home. We’ll be back about fiveish.”

“No! No, I want to come, I mean, -. Well, I like shopping.” I confessed reluctantly.

“Ah. Now that’s a good girl. All girls like shopping and sissies do too. I knew you’d see sense. Anyway, there’s no need to change. We’ll only be buying underwear.”

I whipped my head around to see if Janice understood the import of Aunty Beverly’s words, but it seemed to pass straight over her head. I glanced nervously at Aunty Bev and nodded my head slightly. Aunty Bev smiled and reached out to hug me as she spoke.

“I knew you’d come to understand darling. You’ll love it.”

I sighed with relief but then Janice piped up.

“Goodie! Michael’s going to be my sissy sister!”

Fortunately Aunty Bev had the sense to scold Janice.

“Now, now dear! You mustn’t go shouting that. This is our own little secret. Michael doesn’t want all the boys knowing about it, OK?”

Janice subsided and finished eating the porridge I had given her. As I took her plate I whispered feverishly.

“Nobody’s to know! Right?”

“OK.” Giggled Janice as she hugged herself with the importance of the new big secret. I looked at her with a worrying sense of foreboding.

‘Oh God!’ I thought. ‘Every thing could go just so wrong!’
Had I but known it, I would never have agreed to the whole adventure but now I was more or less committed to it. As Aunty Bev parked up at the mall I felt the first twist of fear in my tummy as she led me boldly into a lingerie shop and then started to stroll up and down the rows and rows of lingerie. Fortunately it was fairly early morning, mid week and not many people were about. Though several women and younger girls looked askance as Aunty Bev held up some delicious lingerie in ‘little miss’ sizes and measured them against me.

“D’you like this style?” She asked softly.”

Fear caused me to say yes but I realised my ordeal was not over yet. After agreeing to the very first selection, Aunty Bev then led me down more aisles.

“But aunty,” I protested. “I’ve got some now. Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh good gracious Michelle. A girl needs more than one set of lingerie. Look, this is nice. Do you like it?”

“I swallowed fearfully as she called me by the feminine equivalent of my boy’s name Michael.”

“That’s not my name!” I protested in a hoarse whisper.

“Well I can’t call you Michael! Not in here anyway! Just pretend you’re a girl and everybody will just think you’re a recalcitrant tom-boy.”

“By now the shop was filling up so I concluded that Aunty Bev’s suggestion was the only way to go. If I was going to try and pass for a girl then I’d better start behaving like a girl. I started mincing and holding my hands like a limp-wristed sissy. Aunty Bev caught me and giggled.

“Not too femme Michelle. We haven’t got you girlied up yet. Come on. We’d better try these for size.”
I sighed with relief as she collected several more sets of ‘little miss’ bras and panties then approached the lady outside the changing rooms. My stomach nearly bottomed out as Aunty Beverly explained confidently.

“It’s my niece. She’s a right little tomboy but I’m afraid that time is coming.”

The shop assistant studied me disinterestedly then gave Aunty Bev the reclaim tags. It was obvious that I had been taken for a typically recalcitrant young girl who was reluctantly being forced to acknowledge the onset of puberty. I was shocked that I had been accepted so readily for a tomboy.

‘Crickey’, I thought, ‘did I really look that girly?’
Naturally, Janice followed us into the cubicle but it was pointless for me to protest. How could Aunty Beverly leave an eight-year-old girl standing outside the changing rooms?

“Now try these on.” Ordered Aunty Bev.

I stepped out of my outer clothes and tried to step into the panties whilst leaving my underpants on. Aunty Bev snorted derisively.

“Don’t be silly young lady. Take those stupid things off!”

“But Janice, - she’ll, -“

“Don’t be stupid girl. Janice has seen you thousands of times in the bathroom, I’m sure.”

This was true but now I was in ladies’ changing rooms trying on panties. Janice piped up loud enough for everybody to hear.

“It’s OK. I’ve seen it before!”

I felt a wave of nausea engulf me and even Aunty Beverly nearly lost it. Almost every body in the world knew what little girls were talking about then they spoke of ‘having seen it!’ I wasn’t sure if Janice was being totally innocent or doubly malicious. I glared at her and made a threatening gesture with my arm. Janice got the message. Whatever she had done was unacceptable because even Aunty Beverly glared and raised her finger in warning. After that, Janice knew enough to keep quiet. Fortunately we were the first into the fitting rooms and nobody else had arrived yet. Aunty Beverly checked the other cubicles and ascertained that no damage had been done. She returned to our cubicle and I spent a wonderful twenty minutes trying on different styles. My heart overfilled with delight when Aunty Bev decided I could keep all the lingerie sets however there was another ordeal to follow.

“Now, you’ll have to wear one set immediately darling. It’ll look strange if you don’t come out wearing your first bra. Go on, choose your favourite.”

Reluctantly I put one on. It was the one I most preferred and looking back, I realise now that I had rather given myself away that fateful day. It was the frilliest bra with lovely scalloped lacing on the shoulder straps. Once I had my tee shirt over it and I studied my appearance in the mirror I gasped with shock. The frilly red, outline was as plain as day through the plain white cotton tee shirt. I gulped with surprise and tried protesting. When this didn’t work, I tried pleading but Aunty Bev seemed unmoved.

“But Aunty Bev!” I cried piteously. “I still look like a boy, a boy wearing a bra. Look, you can see it under my tee shirt.
With my short hair, there’s no hiding that I’m a boy!”

“Don’t be silly Michelle. You look just like a tomboy having to accept that she’s going to have to get used to bras. Come on. There’s lot’s more shopping yet! By the way I think you’ve made an excellent choice, that’s a really pretty bra. It looks lovely, even under that dowdy old tee shirt. Come on. It’s time for a coffee.”

I followed Aunty Bev and Janice out of the changing rooms and stood petrified as Aunty Bev paid for my new underwear at the counter. This meant queuing up in a longish line of other women and I could feel their eyes examining my appearance. I was too scared to meet their stares but I could hear the occasional whisper whilst their stares seemed to be boring a hole in my back. Aunty Beverly also noticed the undue attention so she spoke up quite loud enough for most of the other ladies and daughters to hear.

“Stay close Michelle. You’re growing into a big girl now and I can’t have you running wild like some tomboy for much longer. You’ll soon understand why.”

This seemed to settle the other women and I realised that Aunty Bev had more or less declared that I was just a naughty tomboyish girl who as having to come to terms with her hormones. I visibly calmed down as the whispering stopped and my nervous glances were met with knowing smiles. I could almost read the other ladies’ minds.

‘Crickey!’ I gasped inwardly, ‘they genuinely thought I was a girl and they were mentally inviting me into the sisterhood, into womanhood no less.’
My calming down appeared to resemble a sort of physical passive acknowledgement of my approaching condition and the tensions in the queue visibly relaxed. Soon Aunty Bev had paid and we left to get some coffee.
At the table Aunty Bev explained.

“See Petal. As soon as they realise you’re just a little tomboy, they take everything for granted. You know when your hair grows out; you’ll make a very pretty sissy.”

As I stirred my coffee desultorily Janice was all over me with excitement.

“Does it feel nice? I wish I could wear one.”

I wanted to snap at Janice but I couldn’t. In truth I really did like the strange sensation of the bra’s chest band squeezing my chest while the shoulder straps tugged over my shoulders and down my back. I could even feel the under-wired cups sort of pushing up the tiny bit of flesh in my pectorals. As I stared down at my coffee with my head in my hands I could see the tiny mounds formed under my tee shirt. I hadn’t realised it but ‘little miss’ bras had a tiny amount of shaped padding to help young girls feel confident. As the shaped inserts pushed at my flesh and forced it upwards, I actually had little mounds sticking out under my tee shirt. Aunty Janet quickly recognised my defensive hunched posture and she tut-tutted.

“Just look at you Michelle. Sit upright. Girls are proud of their breasts.”

I heaved a nervous sigh and sat upright only to see the frilly red mounds almost leap out to demand attention despite the cotton tee shirt. Aunty Bev smiled approvingly.

“That’s better Petal. Now, finish your coffee and we’ll see about some shoes.”

Once again I was traipsing around the mall and soon began to feel more eyes upon me; some puzzled, some contemptuous and some downright predatory. I was actually grateful when we stepped into a shoe shop. At first, Aunty Bev had me stroll along the long shelves of shoes as she hugged my shoulder.

“What sort of shoes do you want?”

I pointed to some trainers but Aunty Bev bent down to explain.

“Not trainers darling. I mean proper shoes, sandals, with high heels and perhaps some Mary Jane’s for school. You can have trainers of course. Girls have trainers just like boys but I want you to choose some nice shoes as well. Have you any preferences?”

I wagged my head. Besides trainers I had hardly worn any other shoe since my parent’s funeral and I had outgrown the formal black shoes that matched my mourning suit that awful day. Aunty Bev seemed to read my confusion and being ever so supportive she adopted a tactful helpful mode.

“OK then, pick out your trainers first. Just remember we want girly ones. Something like this.”

She took a pink and yellow trainer of the shelf and held it to my foot.

“D’you want to try this on?”

I studied it and wagged my head as my eye caught a much prettier pink and white shoe on the next shelf up. Aunty Bev followed my eye and she smiled approvingly.

“Oh yes, much prettier. Here, try it on.”

I loosened my scruffy old trainers and extended my foot.

“Oh take that filthy old sock off darling. You’ll have to wear much nicer socks than those.

I tugged off the sock and extended my bare foot as Aunty Bev tried the trainer on. It was too small so she called over an
assistant.

“The next size in these and have you anything else similar for my niece.”

The girl smiled and sped away to reappear with several boxes. I was slightly bemused until Aunty Bev explained.

“Girls like to try lots of different styles. You can choose any two types.”

By now I was getting into the swing of things. Shopping was just so much fun! Naturally, Janice declared that she wanted a two pairs as well but Aunty Bev put her foot down.

“I’m not made of money darling. This is Michelle’s treat. You can only have one pair.”

Janice sulked for a bit but I soon cheered her up.

“We can choose one matching pair so that we look the same. Which ones do you like?”

As Janice held up her preference Aunty Bev smiled at me then kissed my cheek again. She whispered her approval.

“That was really considerate darling. You’ll make Janice a lovely big sister.”

Once again I felt that shiver of uncertainty.

‘Did I really want to be Janice's big sister?’

After the trainers, Aunty Bev took me into new territory. She led me towards the sandal shelves and had me remove my favoured footwear as she took down some very girly type shoes. As I stepped out of the trainers she smiled and hugged my shoulders again as she explained.

“These are what we girls call sandals. They’re not like men’s sandals that are flat with thick leather straps and heavy buckles. These are girl’s dress sandals with pretty delicate straps and high heels see.”
She held one up for me to finger as she turned it around in front of my eyes.

“See. They come in all sorts of colours and designs and even the heels are different heights. Would you like to try some?”

My eyes widened as I drank in the delightful colours and I reached out tentatively to touch a bright red pair. Aunty Bev smiled as she fingered the peep-toe tip and the two-inch heel.

“You like red don’t you. You chose the red bra and panty set.”

I didn’t reply but my eyes gave me away. She gently pressed my shoulders and made me sit on the fitting seat as she eased my foot into the sandal then buckled it to my foot. I rose to try standing but she prevented me.

“It’s no good trying to stand with just one shoe. We’ll need the other. Does it feel comfortable?”
As I nodded She motioned the assistant again who realised she had another sale and slipped away into the back room. Once again she reappeared with several styles and quickly replaced Aunty Bev at my feet. Quickly she secured the sandal as she looked up and smiled.

“Are these your first heels?”

I nodded shyly and she reached up to help me to my feet. Naturally I wobbled and swayed but the heels were only two inches and I managed several steps before turning and teetering back to the seat. There I stopped and remained standing as I slowly accustomed myself to the strange new posture. Aunty Bev and the assistant stepped back and smiled approvingly as the assistant spoke again.

“Take another walk, right around the shop then tell us how they feel.”

I glanced at Aunty Bev who nodded encouragement.

“Go on. Try it.”

I turned again, teetered as I recovered my balance then set off cautiously down the aisle. As I turned at the end, Aunty Bev and the assistant stepped between the aisles to watch my progress. After another aisle Aunty Bev approached me and nodded approvingly.

“You’re doing well Petal but take smaller strides.”

I shortened my stride and found it easier to keep my balance as I strode with increased confidence. Then I noticed as my step became firmer the heels began to click loudly as the struck the floor. Suddenly I remembered the familiar noise that mummy’s heels always made when we were out as a family. Her heels had always clicked loudly and rapidly as she kept up with daddy’s longer stride. I stepped a little firmer to emphasise the clacking and Aunty Bev grinned as she recognised my ploy.

“That’s my girl. It announces to everybody that a woman is approaching. Just remember that it also tells the predator that a girl is nearby. Heels are great to feel girly but you’ll never be able to outrun a man in them.”

“What’s a predator aunty?”

“You’ll learn soon enough. D’you want to walk home in them?”

“Can I?” I squeaked excitedly thus betraying my root femininity.

“OK darling but you’d best get a nice frock or something to match them. Those jeans look terrible.”

“Aaah! Do I have to? Lot’s of girls wear jeans.”

“Not with good shoes like that. Besides we’ve got one more pair to buy.”

“What. I asked, puzzled.”

“Your Mary Jane Shoes for school. You can’t walk around in those heels all the time. You’ll damage your young feet. Heels are only for special times. Come along.”

I traipsed behind Aunty Bev and she quickly picked out some awful, school type shoes; glossy black with no heel and a single thick strap and buckle over the instep.

“Uugh!” I grimaced.

“Don’t worry darling, these will be for school. All the children wear this type in your new school. They are called Mary Jane’s.”

I tried them on, ensured they were a comfortable fit, then quickly reverted to my lovely red heels. I wondered what sort of school a ‘sissy school’ was if the boys had to wear Mary Jane Shoes.

I did not have time to ponder for long though. Aunty Bev soon had us out of the shop and my heels clicked sharply as my ten-year-old legs scurried along to keep up with Aunty Bev. I felt a bit jealous of my younger sister Janice skipping easily along in her new pink trainers. What was more disconcerting were the looks I got. Despite my heels and clearly visible bra under my tee shirt, I still looked to some like a boy. The mixed looks I got unsettled me. Some were smiles as the watcher recognised a tomboy growing up. Others were frowns of confused disapproval as they saw what appeared to be an effeminate boy in drag. Fortunately they refused to believe their own eyes and nobody intervened. Then of course there were the inevitable predatory stares.

For a moment I panicked as I lost sight of both my sister and aunt as they stepped into another shop. As I stood nervously in the main part of the mall, my eyes cast about frantically searching until I sagged with relief as Aunty Bev reappeared.

“Do try and keep up Petal. There’s lots to do yet. Come on.”

I followed her into another shop that I immediately recognised as a boutique. Janice was already studying the merchandise and tugged at my hand eagerly.

“This is nice. We could buy matching shorts look.”

I froze as she proffered the pink velvet tap pants that were little more than cut away hot pants. Fortunately Aunty Bev intervened.

“Sorry girls, red cannot be seen with pink. I think these red ones will be better, however the pink ones will go nicely with your new trainers so we’ll take both, and a pink pair for Janice.”

She produced a similar pair of red, stretchy, velvet tap pants and motioned me to the changing rooms. I swallowed nervously yet again. These shorts were just so skimpy!

In the changing room the shorts fitted but they were tight. The smooth velvet produce an undesired ‘condition’ and Aunty Bev frowned.”

“Oh dear. This is no good. They’re a nice fit but you can’t wear them while you’re like that. We’ll have to get you something else. Wait here and try and do something about that! I’ll go and get some other stuff.”

I frowned and tried to adjust my naughty bits but they refused to behave. Janice stared at me and smiled.

“You’ve got a thingy. It’s gone stiff hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I confessed, unsure whether to be proud or ashamed.

“I know what it’s for!” She declared proudly.

“Yeah. So do I. We did it in sex education lessons this year.”

Then I realised Janice was two years younger than me and she hadn’t had sex education lessons yet.

“Hey! How did you know? You haven’t had those lessons yet!”

“I saw your book. You left it in the bathroom a few weeks ago,”

“Yeah. Well you shouldn’t be so nosey.”

“I couldn’t help it. I went to wee and there it was. You’d left it there. Does it really shoot stuff out?”

“No. Well, not yet anyway. I’m still too young.”

“So why does it get stiff then?”

“It’s always been doing that since I was small. All boys get them.”

“Do sissies?”

“I suppose so; you’d better ask Aunty Bev. She’s the one who wants me to be a sissy.”

“But you like it. Aunty Bev told me this morning.”

“Why did she do that?” I demanded.

“She said it’s best that I know. If there are no family secrets there are no nasty surprises. She told me all about it and explained that you liked wearing girls stuff. This was so that I wouldn’t be afraid or shocked if I saw you unexpectedly.”

“Yeah, well I suppose she’s right. I don’t want to frighten you. Does this frighten you?”

“What? Your stiffy?”

“No, the girls clothes.”

“Nah. I think it’s nice. Now I’ve got a big sister. I’ve always wanted a big sister. I hate it when you used to go out and leave me alone. Now you’ll be able to play with my dolls now.”

“I think I’ve grown out of playing with dolls, but I’ll be your big sis. That’ll be keen.”

“Big sis. Big sissy. Is that were the word comes from?”

“Possibly, I don’t really know. Hey-up! Here comes Aunty Bev.”

Our aunty reappeared with a flared rah-rah frock and held it out. My eyes widened with delight for it was exactly what I had always dreamed of; my own red satin frock.

“Ooooh! That’s delicious. Can I try it on?”

“Of course, but first you’ll have to put the slip on.

She held out a red slip and I raised my arms as she slipped it over my shoulders. The sheer delight of the silky smooth material slithering down my bra and panties only cause my stiffy to harden. I squirmed uncomfortably as my stiffy tried to grow in the tight confines of my red velvet tap pants. Aunty Bev smiled and declared.

“You’d better keep your tap pants on underneath. They’ll stop that ‘condition’ from showing. Come on raise your arms again.”
I did as she commanded and she slipped the frock over my shoulders. Again the silky material slithered down my under slip and I squirmed. Aunty Bev smiled again as she recognised my sensuous reaction.

"Turn around. I have to button you up."

I turned around and sighed as the bodice of the frock was buttoned up behind and I felt the sensuous embrace. As she fastened the last button at the nape of my neck, Aunty Janice gave me another kiss on the neck.

“There! How does that feel?”

“Mmmm. Just scrummy!” I squeaked as I ran the palms of my hands over the silky slippery bodice of the frock.

“Good. That’s it for today then. I’ve also bought you a couple of chemises and blouses to go with your tap pants. Come on, that’s enough for today, I’ve spent a fortune on you young lady.”

I was reluctant to leave the mall and stopped to admire myself in every shop window under the pretence of seeing something I liked. Aunty Bev recognised my ploy but she indulged me as she waited. As to any untoward looks, I couldn’t have cared less. I was the happiest sissy in the world.

These are the first three chapters. Don’t worry readers, Michelle will soon learn what it means to be a properly controlled sissy, however we must allow her the pleasures of a sissy childhood.
Cheers for now. Beverly Taff.

Chapter 4 explores more of Michelle's transgenderism and and shopping fun.

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4Sissy Farm
The Sissy Farm

Chapter 4

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 My transvestite uncle

When we arrived home, Aunty Bev instructed me to go up stairs and change out of my dress.

“That dress is only for best Michelle.” She declared as she handed me the rest of the parcels. “Here, take these up and change. Just keep your tap pants on and use one of the new tops you bought. You can change your bra and panties if you want as well.”

I gathered the parcels together and scampered off up to my bedroom. Again, I think my enthusiasm must have shown through because as I threw the parcels on my bed I turned to find Janice standing in the doorway. She was smiling.

“Can I help you choose? Pleease!”

For a moment I was reluctant but it seemed churlish for a big sissy not to be kind to her younger sister and I could hardly claim to be her big brother whilst wearing my beautiful frock.

“OK.” I agreed with a girlish giggle. “Sit there and tell me what you think.”
She settled on the edge of the bed and started opening the parcels as I started to undress. Immediately I discovered that I could not undo the buttons at the back of the bodice and I squeaked with frustration.

“Heck. These are awkward. I can’t reach them.”

Janice nodded knowingly as she stepped forward and explained.

“That’s the trouble with frocks that button up the back. We girls all need help.”

“Well what about Aunty Bev?” I challenged. “I’ve never had to button up any of her frocks.

“I usually do it if she chooses a back closing frock, but if you check you’ll find she mostly wears skirts and blouses or front buttoning frocks. She’s only got about six back fastening frocks in her whole wardrobe.”

Janice's knowledge surprised me. I had come to believe that only I assisted Aunty Bev. Now it seemed we were both involved. I made a mental note to ask Aunty Bev why she used me to do her corsets. I stood patiently whilst Janice unfastened the buttons then gratefully slid the frock off my shoulders and stepped carefully out of it. Janice reached out and fondled the satiny texture.

“Gosh this is a lovely frock. I wish I had one as nice as this.”

I found my self also fingering the slippery satiny texture and smiled at Janice as I reached into my wardrobe and tried to hang the frock on one of my few hangers. I discovered that the frock would not stay on the plastic moulded hangers and the wide cut away neck kept sliding off the ends. Janice smiled and picked my frock up.

“Not like that silly. Look here see, inside the shoulders, there are two tiny little loops. They fit over the shaped cut-aways in the hanger see.”

I looked inside and saw the two loops where Janice had looped them over the shaped cut-aways.

“Gosh. I always wondered what those strange shapes were for.”

“Well now you know, and while were at it, those little hooks on the lower cross bar are for skirt loops. Then you can hang your favourite blouse and skirt outfits together.”

“Gosh that’s neat.”

I reached up and carefully hung my frock in the wardrobe and turned to find Janice unpacking my other lingerie sets.

“These are really nice. I hope I’ll get some like this when I’m ten.”

“I’m sure you will. Aunty Bev’s scrupulously fair. D’you want to try one of the bras on now?”

Janice's eyes lit up and she immediately slipped off her top. She was a biggish girl for an eight year old and there was not that much difference between us, what with me following my father and being slightly small for my age. She tried fastening the back clasp and giggled as she struggled so I showed her how.

“Aunty Bev joins the clasp at the front then twists the bra around her waist before tugging it up to hold her breasts.”

Janice giggled as she deftly followed my instructions.

“What’s so funny?” I smiled.

“This is cool. I must be the only girl in our school that has been shown by her brother how to fasten her bra. Will you still show me when I grow breasts?”

We both fell about giggling, so much so that Aunty Bev came in from her room.

“What’s up with you two?”

Janice explained and Aunty Beverly smiled.

“Well, that’s exactly how a sissy should be. Just like a big sister. Now I suggest that you both put your tops on and go out to play for a while.

I helped Janice unpack the rest of my shopping and we fussed about trying to decide which top I should wear. Aunty Bev smiled as
she watched us.

“You’re a right fussy little pair of madams aren’t you? Still, that’s another sign that you’re a true sissy at heart Petal.

I’d better get you enrolled at that school as soon as, -“

I squirmed uncertainly. Not sure if I was excited or afraid. My emotions were just so mixed up! Aunty Bev smiled again, gave us both a kiss on the foreheads and left us to play in the back orchard where I pushed Janice on the swing that hung from the biggest apple tree. Fortunately, Aunty Bev’s house had a large walled garden that was not overlooked. I could play to my heart’s content without fear of any exposure. As I pushed Janice on the swing, I waved to Aunty Bev through the drawing room window. She waved back as she chatted on the phone. Later as we sat in the conservatory, she brought us some fruit juice as I helped plait Janice's long golden hair. Aunty Bev smiled as she studied the plaits.

“Hmm. Not bad Petal. You’ve got nimble fingers and an eye for style, would you like to be a hair dresser when you grow up?”

I beamed with pleasure at her praise and stood up to give her a hug. Aunty Bev then explained about whom she had been talking to on the phone.

“I was talking to Mistress Janet’s Ladies’ Academy just then on the phone. She runs a very strict school but there are just a couple of vacancies left for the start of this next year.

I’ve just managed to get you and Janice enrolled. Fortunately the fees are no problem. The investment incomes from your inheritances will easily cover the fees and any additional expenses. I must be fair, your mummy and daddy provided well for you both.”

For a moment, Janice and I both teared up at the sad memories but Aunty Bev gave us a long hug and after a short while we both felt better. I started to wonder about this new school.

“What sort of school is it then?” I asked as Janice's ears pricked up and she joined me on the cane settee and we sipped our fruit juices.

“Well it’s residential school but only during the week. You will be able to come home every Friday and return on Monday mornings or Sunday nights. I’m sure you’ll both like it. Some of the other pupils have to live there full time for the whole term because of the distances from their homes. Fortunately, the school is only twenty miles from here and within easy travelling distance. I might even come over to visit you during midweek so you won’t miss me much.”

“What happens if we don’t like it?” Pressed Janice.

“Oh I’m sure you will. The school’s in lovely setting and there’s masses to do.”

“When do we start?” I asked.

“The middle of September dear. That’s a month away that gives us a bit of time to help you prepare my darlings.”
Janice and I exchanged excited glances and squeezed each other’s hands. Aunty Bev spotted our intimacy and took both our hands in hers as she stroked them.

“This school will suit you both just perfectly but it’ll certainly help you Michelle. Why Petal, you’re already partway to being a beautiful sissy already my darling. Those matching tap pants and chemises are just so pretty. You two could almost be twin sisters except for your hair. Still it’s got a month to make some progress. By the time school starts, we’ll have your hair looking something like half decent. Janice and I hugged each other and I savoured the delightful sensations as our satiny chemises slithered together. The sensation caused me to start developing a ‘condition’ and Aunty Bev soon noticed.

“You’d better go and address yourself darling then come and help in the kitchen. I can show you how to prepare a nice summer salad.”

I tried adjusting the tight fitting crotch of my tap pants and squirmed as my ‘condition’ grew to demand more attention. Janice quickly recognised what had happened and she piped up helpfully as she turned to Aunty Bev.

“I’d better go and help her. Those pants look awfully tight.”

I glanced uncertainly over my shoulder as Aunty Bev recognised my nervousness and replied to Janice.

“Yes, darling you’d better help her. Sissies can be so helpless when it comes to these things. Just be gentle with her.”

I was used to Janice seeing me with a ‘condition’ but I had never before had her ‘help’ me when it needed addressing. Aunty Bev explained to me.

“You’ll have to get used to having your ‘conditions’ attended to by other girls or more often other sissies Petal. In your new school, there will be many new rules. I’m quite sure Mistress Janet will see to it that you learn to control those conditions. It can be quite embarrassing for a sissy to get a condition if she isn’t suitably dressed. Sissies shouldn’t reveal their carnal needs except with prior permission. By having Janice attend to it from now until you attend school, we will be starting down the right tracks. Go on then. Go and sort it out.

I walked uncomfortably as Janice joined me and when we arrived in the bathroom she immediately recognised that I would be unable to untie the bow at the back of my waist that secured the tight fitting tap pants. I wriggled self-consciously as Janice addressed the bow.

“Oo-oh! Hurry up darling. It’s getting tight.” I begged.

“The knot’s slipped and jammed.” She announced. “The waist sash is too short. We’ll have to get a new one. The bow tails have slipped through and it’s now become a jammed granny knot. Hold still!”

I fidgeted and struggled to get my fingers under the leg holes of my tap pants but there was no elasticity. What with the tight tap pants and the form fitting panties, I just could not release my boy bits. I whimpered urgently.

“Come on Janice. It’s getting painful. He wants to grow up and out!”

Finally with a sigh of satisfaction, Janice had the sash undone and started to unbutton the waistband. I gasped with relief as she unzipped the back zipper and I was able to slide the tap pants down my legs.
Janice shifted around to face me as I urgently unbent my boy bit and allowed him to find freedom as he tented my panties. Janice looked up expectantly.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

Suddenly an unexpected voice appeared behind us.

“You take it in your hands and flick the end darling. That will cause it to go soft.”

At that time, aged ten, I had never had an ejaculation and I squeaked my protest.

“But Aunty Bev. I usually get a tingly thrill before he goes down.”

“Not any more darling. Sissies must do as their mistresses tell them. For the time being Janice and I will be your mistresses until school starts.”

“But, but, why can’t I have a tingly now?”

“You didn’t get permission dear. If you want one next time, you must ask me or Janice OK.”

I pouted with discontent but Aunty Bev was the boss so I had to obey her. She bent down and carefully inspected my ‘condition’ before demonstrating to Janice how to make it soft.

“See dear. You hold it at the base then give the round end a sharp flick like this, OK?”

So saying she flicked the swollen purple bell with her sharp hard nails and I let out a squeal of surprised pain as the sharp pain lanced through my boy bit. Naturally my pee-pee started going soft immediately and Janice gasped at the speed of the deflation.

“Gosh is it that quick?”

“Yes dear,” replied Aunty Bev as she held out my softening pee-pee, “now quickly; give it a good flick right on the tip of the round purple bit.”

Janice needed no further encouragement and gave my pee-pee a vigorous flick. Once again I let out a squeal of pain and my pee-pee almost disappeared inside Aunty Beverly's grasp. I’m sure if it could, it would have withdrawn right up inside my tummy.

“Oo-oh! I squealed as I squirmed and wriggled. That’s just so painful. Did you have to?”

“I’m afraid so Petal,” replied Aunty Bev, “it’s for your own good when you are older. Sissies have to learn to behave like ladies. They just can’t go around getting excited whenever they want, they must learn to accept their mistresses wishes."

I sighed regretfully. It seemed that being a sissy was going to have its down sides but at the tender age of ten, I was yet to realise this. For now it was just so nice to have such delightful clothes. Girls were just so lucky. They had all the pretty stuff and nice soft materials to caress their skin. Aunty Bev finally released my little boy bits and showed me how to tuck them back into the crotch of my panties. Then she pulled up my tap pants and made extra sure by tying the waist sash extra tight. Now my little pee-pee could not grow a condition again and look all lumpy and untidy.

In the mirror we all studied my tap pants and Janice smiled happily.

“It looks just like mine now. All neat and smooth.”

“That’s how it should be girls, now come along; we’ve got a salad to prepare.”

Later as we ate our salad Aunty Bev explained further.

“You see Petal. If you are going to be a sissy and enjoy all those nice clothes, you’ll have to keep an eye on your figure. Salads are the best way for a sissy to keep her figure nice and trim. You won’t be eating as much as you used to and you’ll be much more ladylike at the table.”

I mentally checked the portion on my plate and realised that it was the same size as Janice's. Aunty Bev saw my covetous expression and laughed lightly.

“Come now Petal. If you two are to be sisters then it’s fair shares all around. Besides you’re almost the same size even if you are two years apart. Oh by the way, both of you are due for your annual medical checkups. I’ve had to change your regular doctor since you’ve come to live with me. I’ve signed you up with the Doctor Shirley Williams and she has set aside an appointment for the day after tomorrow. You’ll like her. She’s a very considerate lady doctor and she also works as the medical practitioner for Mistress Janet’s Ladies’ Academy so you’ll be seeing her on a regular basis. She’s very understanding about little boys who want to be sissies. I take it you still want to be a sissy, don’t you.

I felt myself caressing the soft satiny chemise with its bootlace shoulder straps, and then my hands drifted absently to the tight fitting tap pants.

I really did like the lovely clothes and the idea that Janice and I could now share most of our clothes brought a frisson of pleasure to my tummy. Janice smiled across the table at me as she recognised my sensuous reaction to the question. She of course was more than happy to have a sissy as a sibling for it held huge promise, as we would grow up together. She had also noticed me eyeing her plate and ever the sweet considerate girl she offered me one of her slices of cold meat. Aunty Beverly gently restrained her.

“No darling, I know it’s very sweet of you to offer, but Michelle must always consider her diet, as must you. Those are equal balanced portions so eat your food just as good little girls should. Besides, Michelle won’t have room for pudding if she eats too much, will she?”

“Oooh! Goody! Is there pudding?” Squeaked Janice as my eyes widened with appreciation.

“Of course darlings,” replied Aunty Bev, “I’m not going to starve you, just keep you on a healthy diet.”

Satisfied with this explanation we ‘girls’ both finished our meal as decorously as any well-bred young ladies should. Pudding turned out to be my favourite, custard and a sticky toffee pudding. Obviously we were not going to starve.
When we had finished, Aunty Bev explained.

“You should always leave the table feeling there is room for a little more. That way you will never overfeed yourselves. Now fill the dishwasher and we’ll go for a walk before sunset. The exercise will do us good and burn off the sticky pudding.”

“But Aunty Bev! I, - I’m dressed as a girl!”

“Oh don’t worry darling.” Interrupted Aunty Bev as she anticipated my fears. “We will be walking in the woods behind our house. You won’t be exposed to anybody else. Besides, nobody around here knows you yet. Who’s to know that you’re a sissy and not a girl?”

“But my hair, it’s so short.”

“Lot’s of girls have short hair. I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow, we’ll go and have some extensions put in so that you’ll not be so obvious if you’re really that concerned. Janice can have her hair done as well. It needs a bit of tidying up anyway. There’s also some more shopping to do. You need some more new outfits and your monthly dividends go in tomorrow from your parent’s estate. What d’you say to that?”

The thought of shopping caused both of Janice and me immense pleasure and we quickly agreed to go for a walk. Besides, as Aunty Bev had already pointed out. The exercise would do us good. Soon we were skipping along the woodland paths in our white satiny tops, bright red tap pants and new red trainers. Janice had also been allowed to wear one of my bras and she felt tremendously adult as we chattered on about being able to see our bras under our chemises.

“You’ve also got a visible panty line,” chortled Janice as she saw me bending over to pick some flowers.

I giggled and wiggled my bum as I stroked my tight satiny tap pants and fingered the distinctive ridge of the heavily scalloped lacy edge of my panties. The lacy edge was distinctly noticeable but I didn’t care. Indeed I was excited by the thought of somebody else knowing I was wearing lacy, scalloped edge trim to my panties. As we scampered through the woods we two children met an elderly gentleman walking his dogs. He smiled at us kindly though we both noticed the appreciative glint in his eyes as his gaze lingered on my butt as he passed us. Then he kept glancing back.

“He’s looking at your visible panty line sis.” Giggled Janice.

And indeed he was, for he twitched uncomfortably as I deliberately bent over to stretch my tap pants over my butt and accentuate the outline of the lacy scalloping. It was only when Aunty Bev appeared unexpectedly from further along the path that he quickly turned to swap ‘good evening’s’ and he finally dragged his eyes away from my butt. However, Aunty Bev had already copped his salacious curiosity and after exchanging somewhat formal pleasantries she called me to her side and warned me as he walked guiltily away.

“You’re a bit too young to be doing that yet my little Petal. Even little sissies can get themselves into trouble. Fortunately he was an elderly gent but if he had been a younger man or perhaps a group of boys, you could have got yourself into serious trouble especially if you had been here, all alone in the woods. Now don’t be silly. Life is hard enough for a sissy without inviting trouble. Come on we’ll take this path it’s less travelled. Oh, and no more flower picking. The country code frowns upon picking wild flowers.”

Thus we scampered on deeper into the woods. Soon we came to a pretty glade and Aunty Bev explained.

“Your mother and I and your uncle Peregrine, always used to come here as children. If you had some bathing costumes I’d let you play in the stream. That reminds me, tomorrow, I’ll buy you each a new bathing costume.”

Disappointed with not being able to plunge into the inviting crystal clear water we sat on the bank of the stream while Aunty Bev talked about mummy and Uncle Peregrine. Finally, the evening chill started to creep upon us so we picked our way home. As we walked we asked her to tell us more about mummy and Uncle Peregrine. Aunty Bev explained slightly tearfully as her own memories came back to remind her of the good times they had as children.

“This has always been our family home. In fact we own a large slice of this woodland but there are several public footpaths through it and anybody can come here to enjoy the walks. The river is private though. Only we and the lord Weston’s children can swim in it because the public foot paths don’t go there. That old gent was Lord Weston, he owns another huge slice of the woodland and then the local County Council own most of the rest of the woods except for some farmers who own the northern border of the wood where it abuts their farms."

“Who exactly owns the bit with the stream and the glade?” Asked Janice.

“Lord Weston.” Replied Janice. We own the upper reaches of the stream, whilst he owns this lower bit. There is another pool further up on our bit of the river. It’s smaller but more private. The big pool is too public so we and the Weston’s always bathed in our pool. The county council owns the main river and the majority of the woods on that side of the valley.”

As we chattered we met Lord Weston again returning with his dogs. Aunty Bev stopped again to introduce her new wards to the old man. He smiled and patted our heads then again his eyes slipped down to our juvenile bodies. We behaved courteously then played with his dogs until Aunty Bev and he had chatted for a while.
Naturally I deliberately presented my butt to him and exaggerated the distinct shape of my scalloped panty line as I bent over to pat his dogs. I only became a bit embarrassed as the dogs burrowed their inquisitive noses into our crotches. Janice and I let out nervous giggles and moved out of range as they strained at their leashes. Lord Weston scolded the dogs and called them to heel but he continued chatting with Aunty Bev. They obviously knew each other from way back.

As we listened we realised that Lord Weston’s son James, was the boy who had gone to live in London with Uncle Peregrine. Once we parted Janice and I pressed Aunty Bev about it. Finally she revealed all.

“Oh well! I might as well tell you. You’ll find out one day anyway.

Your Uncle Peregrine is a homosexual transvestite. That is a boy who likes to wear women’s clothes and go out with other boys. He lives in London with Lord Weston’s son who is also a transvestite. It really was a phenomenal coincidence. James and Peregrine have always loved each other though I don’t know much about them. I haven’t seen them for years. That’s why you’ve never been to see him even though they are men now. Your father totally disapproved of Peregrine but your mother and I loved him. He is our brother after all.”

The idea that I had an uncle who actually liked wearing girl’s clothes just like me gave me a wonderful feeling. I had to know more.

“Have you ever seen him?”

“Yes of course. I love him as my brother despite his always appearing as a girl. He and James Weston own a special club in London.”

“Oh can we go and see him Aunty Bev? Pleease! Pleease!” I pleaded.

“OK. I’ll phone him when we get home. I didn’t bring my mobile with me.”

Janice looked up eyes agog with curiosity.

“Is this what that Lord Weston meant when he said things about ‘running in families’?

“Yes my darling. That’s why I’m so understanding of Michelle’s little secret. Though I’m glad to learn that Michelle prefers girls.”

I nodded vigorously. The idea of playing rough games and running about in gangs just didn’t appeal to me. Girls were much nicer and just so much softer and caring.
Soon we came to edge of the woods and as the light faded we entered the house. Aunty Bev sent us up to bed with the promise of some hot chocolate if we were washed and in bed before her favourite programme came on television. We two responded to the bribe and were quickly washed then tucked up in our beds as we heard Aunty Bev’s heels clacking up the stairs. She appeared as a perfect vision of loveliness in her peignoir wearing only her teddy and stockings underneath. My eyes widened appreciatively as she bent down and placed my chocolate beside my bed.

“D’you want to come and hear the story I’m reading to Janice?” She whispered.

I nodded eagerly and followed her across the landing to Janice's room as Janice sat up expectantly. Janice pulled back her duvet and invited me to lie beside her as we listened to the story. Aunty Bev smiled then explained before reading the story.

“I’ve just been speaking to uncle Peregrine and James. They would love to see you so we are going up to London the day after we see the doctor. Now where were we in the story?

“Where they discover the house made of sweets in the middle of the forest,” declared Janice.

Aunty Bev smiled as she studied us.

“Yes Hansel and Gretel are just like you two babes in the wood.”

As Aunty Bev read the story, first Janice and then I drifted off to sleep. It was the first time I had slept with Janice in Aunty Beverly's house. We had often fallen asleep together in our old home but that was the innocent sleep of two babes. Now we were growing up. When we awoke in the morning, we started giggling as Janice snuggled up to me and fingered my little stiffy under my nightie.

“You’re not supposed to have one of those unless Aunty Bev says so.” Whispered Janice.

“I can’t help it I simpered. He just grows when I’m asleep. Will you go and ask Aunty Bev if I can let him stay?”
Janice giggled then sat up as she released me from her affectionate embrace.

“I’ll do what Aunty Bev showed me. You know; the flicking thing.”

Knowing that I might get into trouble for having a stiffy in my pee-pee, I acceded to Janice's suggestion. Reluctantly I lowered my panties and Janice peered down to study him.

“I do believe she’s getting bigger you know.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s making a bigger tent in my panties this morning.”

“D’you want her to get bigger?”

“I dunno’.” I sighed. “Do you mind if he gets bigger.”

Janice sucked her lips thoughtfully.

“She would look ugly in those pretty panties. I’ll make it go away. After all you don’t want one of those when the doctor sees you.”

“That’s the day after tomorrow! Stiffies don’t last that long. You’d better get rid of it.”

As I said this Janice took me at me word and grasped my pee-pee as she gave the swollen ‘bell-end’ a forceful flick.

“Oow!” I squealed.” “Oo-ooh. That hurt!”

Nevertheless, my stiffy quickly shrank and I squirmed nervously. ‘Life could be difficult for sissies despite being able to wear such pretty clothes.’

Aunty Bev heard my squeal and stepped into our bedroom.

“Are you two alright?”

“Yes,” replied Janice, “I just got rid of Michelle’s condition.”

“Good girl. Now go and get washed. We’ve got a lot of shopping to do.”

“Can Michelle have her condition while we shower?” Asked Janice.

“If you want her to.” Replied Aunty Bev, “Just remember that mistresses are always in control with sissies. If you want her to grow a condition, then she can. Just make sure you’re both presentable when you come down to breakfast in half an hour OK?”

I want to hit the shops early; we’ve got a lot to do.”

Eager for some pleasure from my pee-pee, I slid out of bed and stripped naked as Janice followed suite. Aunty Bev smiled as she watched us trotting totally naked to the bathroom to complete our morning rituals.

“Not too long now.” She cautioned. “Half an hour.”

In the bathroom the first thing we did was evacuate ourselves. We had both seen each other do it hundreds of times but this time Janice remarked.

“You must remember to sit to pee. You’re a sissy now.”

“I know. Aunty Bev is right. Sitting is best. It stops the splashing and mess.”

As I finished, Janice handed me a tissue to wipe myself. I grinned affectionately.

“I don’t need that. My pee-pee doesn’t drip or splash me.”

“I know. It’s not fair really,” Replied Janice enviously. “Girls always have to wipe. The pee gets everywhere and trickles down our dingly dell when we finish. We always have to wipe.”

“I’ll wipe you if you want.” I offered.

“Oooh! That would be nice. Come on, now you’ve finished, it’s my turn.”
I vacated the loo and offered her my seat.

“Quick, it’s nice and warm for you. It wasn’t nice sitting down on a cold seat first thing in the morning. I’ve never done that before to pee.”

“Yeah. That’s another thing,” added Janice. “It can be worse in a public loo. You just wait and see.”
She settled comfortably and I watched as her tinkle splashed down between her legs. Janice noticed my curiosity.

“Where exactly does it come from?” I asked.

“D’you want to see?” She replied.

I nodded eagerly so she stopped peeing and stepped over to the bath. I single droplet splashed onto the seat as she stepped across and I realised that girls did dribble as I wiped the drip with a toilet tissue.

“Thanks,” said Janice self-consciously.

‘It must be a messy business,’ I thought.

Janice then straddled the bath with her feet on the edges and lay back with her arms behind her grasping the sides of the bath as she invited me to peer at her secret places. With her legs parted, I got a good view of the slit and noticed all sorts of folds inside her slit.

It was like two pairs of boat shaped lips with a little man in a boat sitting in the bows. There was no obvious pipe for her pee to come out but Janice grinned as I peered closely.

“Now watch.”

She strained her hips and a stream of liquid erupted from just behind the little ‘man-in-the-boat’ I whipped my head back and just managed to avoid the jet then watched excitedly as I located exactly where she peed from. As the pressure eased I realised she was stopping and when the fountain stopped, there would be all sorts of splashes and dribbles around her dingly. Quickly I grabbed some toilet tissue then stood poised as the flow started to subside.

“Quick! Wipe it now!” Ordered Janice urgently. “It’ll go everywhere with me upside-down like this.”

“I pressed the clump of tissues into the tiny cleft behind the ‘man-in-the-boat’ and she sighed with relief. None had splashed her crinkly lips and she smiled as I helped her off the bath with my spare hand.

“Thanks. You’re very thoughtful. Now you’ll need some more tissues. It takes a lot of wiping.”

“What like when you, -?”

“Oh no, not that much. It’s not that messy!” Grinned Janice.

She handed me the saturated clump of tissue and I threw it down the loo as she sat on the edge of the bath and parted her legs again, inviting me to finish the job. I grabbed some more tissue and knelt down to study her dingly dell as I carefully wiped and dabbed any stray glistening droplets. Naturally I got curious about the little ‘man-in-the-boat’ and gently pressed it. Janice gasped then giggled.

“Oo-oh! Stoppit! That tickles.”

“Is it sensitive then?” I asked as curiosity overtook me.”

“Yes. Very!” Squirmed Janice as she thrust her little bud against the tissue.

I realised that here was a little secret about Janice I had never known about before. I knew she was ticklish under her arms and around her knees and feet, but I had never known about this special place before. Janice humped again as I fingered the little bud. She squeaked and gasped as I peered closely and removed the tissue as I carefully fingered the bud.

“It’s growing!” I squeaked with surprise.

“Yee-ess. It does if you do that.” Croaked Janice as her hips gyrated.” Press your finger firmly.”

I pressed again a little harder and Janice started to whimper as her hips started to hump. I stopped nervously for she seemed to be loosing control or something.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No-oo! Just keep pressing it with your finger.”

I did as I was ordered for I was a sissy now, and Aunty Bev had told me always to obey her or Janice. If Janice wanted me to keep tickling her then I would. Patiently I kept fingering and pressing the little bud until it was half an inch long and quite stiff. It was just as stiff as my pee-pee but a lot smaller. Suddenly Janice seemed to become distressed. She slid down off the edge of the bath and started to moan softly as he hips started to gyrate and hump feverishly. I became frightened and stopped.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes. Oooh-ooh. Don’t stop now. Keep doing that!”

Obediently I resumed fingering the stiff little bud until Janice let out a wail and started to sag as she stretched out prone on the bathroom floor. I thought she had fainted and ran urgently for Aunty Bev.

“Come quickly! It’s Janice. She’s ill!”

Aunty Bev followed my naked butt up the stairs and quickly bent down to check the still prone Janice who was still gasping and whimpering.

“What happened?” Asked Aunty Bev.

“I was, - I was, - tickling her.” I replied trying to hide the complete truth.”

Aunty Bev gave me a long look and frowned thoughtfully.

“Where? Where were you tickling her?”

“In, - in her, - in her, - you know. Her dingly dell.”

“Oh! Really! Did she tell you to?”

I nodded vigorously as I expanded my excuse.

“She told me to keep going, she told me not to stop!” I cried, trying to make my defence.

“Hmm.” Sighed Aunty Bev thoughtfully as she tested Janice’s pulse then turned to me and smiled.

“Yess! I’m quite sure she didn’t want you to stop. Now slip your nightie on and have your breakfast while I see to Janice.”

Relieved that Aunty Bev had smiled, I slipped my nightie over my shoulders without even recovering my panties and sped off down stairs. ‘At least I wasn’t in a lot of trouble. Aunty Bev had smiled.’

I was sipping my fruit juice thoughtfully when Janice and Aunty Bev finally appeared in the doorway. Janice was also still in her nightie so she hadn’t showered yet. I looked up with nervous tears expecting a terrible row but instead, Janice came around the table and gave me a huge hug as she kissed me on the cheek. I looked up at Aunty Bev who also smiled as she poured out Janice’s cereal. As Janice spooned her cereal and I opened my egg, Aunty Bev spoke softly.

“Well my little ladies are growing up aren’t they?”

I looked up with the unspoken question in my eyes. Aunty Bev recognised it and put her coffee down as she drew a long breath and turned to Janice.

“Did you like being tickled like that darling?”

“Mmm,” sighed Janice dreamily as she nodded her head languidly.

“Do you understand what happened to you this morning?” Continued Aunty Bev.

“No,” whispered Janice as she smiled at me.

“Well, you have just had a very special sort of tickle. It’s the tickle that grown ups get when they love each other dearly. It was really nice, wasn’t it?”

Janice nodded again and reached across to squeeze my wrist as she squirmed in her chair.

“Well I have to warn you that you shouldn’t really be having that sort of tickly feeling at such a young age but if your body tells you then there’s little you can do to stop it. You are very advanced for your age.”

“Is Janice Ill?” I asked fearfully.

“Oh good gracious no Petal,” replied Aunty Bev. She’s just a little advanced for her years. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

Janice smiled and continued squeezing my arm as she asked.

“Is it OK to do it again?”

Aunty Bev smiled and wagged her head as she chuckled.

“My darlings, short of cutting off your and Michelle’s arms, there’s no way I would ever be able to stop you unless I tied you up or something.”

“Mmmm.” Agreed Janice dreamily again as her mind was obviously drifting back to the events in the bathroom.

“What happened then?” I asked as my fears evaporated and my curiosity took over.

“Janice had what’s known as an orgasm. I explained to her in the bathroom. In some ways it’s a good thing that it was you who gave Janice her first orgasm. If she was older and with a boyfriend or something, she could get into a lot of trouble.”

“Why?”

“Well,” replied Aunty Bev as she hesitated momentarily, “did you remember that Janice told you not to stop?”

“Yes,” I replied as Janice nodded self-consciously.”

“Well that’s what can happen if a girl goes with a boy and he puts his stiff pee-pee into her dingly dell. If the girl gets excited she may not be able to stop, then if the boy also has an orgasm the girl can have a baby.”

“You mean his pee-pee goes inside her dingly.” I gasped as my eyes widened.
Aunty Bev’s eyes widened with surprise.

“My, my! That father of yours really has sheltered you hasn’t he? Don’t you know anything about making babies?”

We both wagged our heads and Aunty Bev sighed.

“Well tomorrow when we see Doctor Shirley, I’ll get her to explain. Come on now, let’s get you showered and dressed. We’re running late as it is.”

We finished breakfast and donned our shower caps then showered and dressed to present ourselves for Aunty Bev’s inspection.

“Well you both look lovely. Come on girls we’ve a retail war to fight.”

We clambered into the car though I noticed that Janice now took the front seat whereas before I always used to. Somehow, Aunty Bev had altered the battle order.

“Shouldn’t I be in the front?” I asked timidly.

Aunty Bev turned around and smiled.

“But Petal. You’re a sissy now and sissies soon get to know their place. Janice is learning to be a mistress. You’ll soon learn to understand.”

I sighed inwardly and settled into the back seat as I buckled up my seat belt. As I did so I chipped my nail and let out a groan.

“Now what’s wrong Petal?” Asked Aunty Bev as I noted a slight sense of annoyance in her voice.

“I’ve chipped my nail doing up the seatbelt buckle.”

“Oh is that all! Well we will soon get that fixed at the salon. Don’t you worry you’re pretty little head.”

I settled back as Janice chattered away to Aunty Bev about what she wanted to buy and what she thought I should buy. Aunty Bev indulged her for a while then gently brought her down to earth.

"Janice darling, we’re shopping mainly for your school uniforms for Miss Janet’s Ladies Academy and maybe some more fashion-wear for Michelle. You’ll get a few things but Michelle’s wardrobe is the one that’s really sparse.”
Janice turned to me and pulled a frown.

“Huh, you get all the luck.”

“I haven’t got many clothes,” I simpered defensively. You’ve got lots.”

This was abundantly true. Janice had a virtual ‘walk-in’ wardrobe. She fell silent for a moment as we pulled into the car park for the mall. Soon we were hitting the shops.

“The salon first girls,” declared Aunty Bev, “Michelle needs a makeover.”

“Am I getting extensions?” I asked hopefully.

“No darling, I think they damage your hair. You’ll just have to be patient. Eventually your hair will grow and then you will look like twins.”

My eyes fell covetously upon Janice's long golden tresses and I almost reached out to stroke it. She grinned as she recognised my envy and whispered.

“It’ll be at least two years before yours is as long as this.”

“I can wait.” I declared boldly but secretly I was desperate.”

“Yes but not two years.” Added Janice. “Aunty Bev’s going to get you a wig until your hair grows out.”

We arrived at Toni’s salon and Toni, Aunty Bev’s regular hairdresser, approached with a slight ripple of concern on her brow,

“You’re a bit late Bev.”

“Yes, these two little madams got into a bit of a tizzy this morning.”

I let out a silent gasp of relief. It seemed that Janice's strange turn this morning was not considered serious. The hairdresser bid us up into the chairs and motioned to two assistants.

“So what’s it to be?” She asked Aunty Bev.

“Well Janice would look nice with some soft waves but Michelle’s been a bit of a tomboy up to now.”

Toni ran her hair appreciatively through Janice’s long, golden, waist length tresses and smiled widely in the mirror. Janice smiled back expectantly as Toni turned to me and ran her fingers through my boyish locks. Then she moved away to chat quietly with Aunty Bev.

“Janice will be a dream but I’m afraid there’s not much we can do to Michelle yet. Her hair is far too short. Might I suggest a wig?”

“Yes, I suspected that was the case. A wig it is then, but make it a good one, she’s going to Miss Janet’s academy next term; well they both are.”

Toni let out a delighted little gasp.

“Oh! Are they si, -“

Aunty Bev nodded.

“Michelle is; Janice is a real girl.”

“Oh! That’s just so delightful. I was a pupil at Miss Janet’s.” Squealed Toni unable to suppress her delight.

“Gosh! Were you really?” Gasped Aunty Bev. “Are you a, -“

“I was. But I’ve, - you know, had it all sorted. I’m married to Petra now. You know, the lady with the boutique two doors down. Oh I can’t wait to tell her.”

“Oh. Does she allow you out then, on your own?”

“Of course. I’m not a sissy any more, I’m an adult mature woman and I own my own Salon. Why shouldn’t she ‘let me out’, as you put it?”

Aunty Bev nodded sagely then they returned to us as Toni explained to her assistants.

“Janice is to have a permanent wave but Michelle has to have a wig. You can do her Nancy.”

As I watched in the mirror, Toni bent down and explained so that only Nancy could hear.

“I hear you’re starting at Miss Janet’s academy.”

My heart missed a beat as I realised that others knew my secret. But I needn’t have worried as Toni went on to explain.

“You’ll love it there darling. I’m an ex pupil of Miss Janet’s and young Miss Nancy here is still attending. She’s in her penultimate year and she’s with me on work experience aren’t your sweetie?”

So saying, Toni reached up and gave Nancy’s generous breasts a gentle caress before gently ringing her prominent nipples with her long red fingernails and then gently pinching them. Nancy let out a whimper of delight and minced nervously until Toni released her. I watched mesmerised by the secret little cameo I had just witnessed. However, Nancy didn’t seem to object and she quickly bent down to study my appearance.

I did notice however that Nancy always seemed to mince and squirm with every movement. It was as if she couldn’t keep still.

Her long beautiful legs encased in glossy tights and disappearing up into her provocative pink hot pants, seemed to exaggerate her condition, whilst her long pink heels caused her large firm breasts to bob and bounce with every move. I was fascinated by Nancy and couldn’t wait to grow breasts like her they seemed to be threatening to spill out of her tight fitting top at any moment and Nancy was continually ‘adjusting’ them as she had to bend over me. I couldn’t resist asking her.

“Is it nice having breasts?”

Nancy smiled and nodded eagerly as she whispered.

“Oh yes. I just would never have believed it until I grew them. Are you going to grow?”

“My Aunty Bev says so. She says it’s best for sissies to have breasts. It makes them appreciate what a woman has to put up with.”

“Mmmm.” Sighed Nancy as she gently manicured my nails. “You’ll learn all about that at Miss Janet’s Academy. How old are you?”

“Ten,” I replied. “My sister Janice is eight.”

“Oh that’s good. I started at fourteen; it’s not so good then. I was a naughty boy.”

I looked at her uncomprehendingly and Nancy recognised my confusion. She smiled as she leant closer.

“Not all the boys who go to Miss Janet’s are willing to go. I wasn’t at first. I was sent there as punishment for being naughty.”

“Oh. What did you do?”

“Well that’s immaterial now. What matters is that I’m a fully blown sissy now. That’s why I’m training to be a hairdresser.”

“But if you’re a boy you could be an engine driver or an airline pilot.” I observed.

“Oh, it’s not like that once you become a sissy darling. You’ll see once you get to Miss Janet’s. Sissies could never become airline pilots or engineers or anything like that. They make good maids though and hairdressers. Just you wait and see. Once you learn, it’s lovely life especially if your mistress takes care of you.”

“Have you got a mistress?” I asked.

“Not yet. I’m still a pupil. I think Miss Toni and Miss Petra are thinking of having me though. If I do well here they might take me on as an apprentice.”

As she bent over me again her boob popped out and brushed against my cheek. I couldn’t resist turning my head ever so slightly and kissing the huge pink nipple as Nancy let out a squeak of surprise and desperately tucked it back into her skimpy top. I gasped, as I tasted a sweet droplet of warm white fluid.

“Oh! You’ve, - you’ve got, - you’ve got milk!” I whispered hoarsely.

“Yes! Well don’t announce it to everybody.”

With that, Toni came over. She had obviously sensed that something had happened.

“Is everything alright here?”

“Yes. I smiled. Nancy has been telling me about Miss Janet’s academy.

“Are you keen to go then?” Pressed Toni.

“Heck yes. Nancy says it’s great.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it. I’ll take over now. Nancy, I see you’ve started leaking. You had better get your coat and join Polly for your turn in the dairy parlour.”

“Yes Miss Toni. I’m sorry about the leaking. My pads won’t stay in with this skimpy top.” Replied Nancy as she courtesied demurely and hustled out of the Salon.

“Where’s she going?” I asked innocently.

“To the sissy farm.” Replied Toni without even missing a stroke.

I wondered what a sissy farm was but thought no more about it. Toni had brought over a tray of coloured nail varnishes and Aunty Bev had joined us.

“What colour do you like?” Asked Toni, half turning to me whilst also checking with Aunty Beverly.

Aunty Bev smiled down at me.

“Which colour do you like Petal?”

My eyes widened with delight as I studied the array of colours.

“I like them all,” I gulped indecisively.”

Aunty Bev turned to Toni and smiled indulgently.

“I think one of the deeper pink tones would be best. Red would be a bit to ‘vampish’ for such a young lady.”

Toni selected a rich pink tone and I watched eagerly as she carefully started to paint my nails. My hands were then placed in a dryer as the piece de resistance finally arrived. Toni took it from her assistant and held it up as she turned it around in front of me. My eyes filled up as the beautiful golden tresses reflected the salon’s intense lights. Apart from it’s being distinctly shorter, the hair and style was identical to the picture of the style Janice had chosen. However, I could not tell for certain for Janice was still under the heater. Eagerly I leant forward as Toni lowered the wig onto a moulding by the mirror then took a small brown stocking thing from a polythene bag.

“You can’t wear the wig yet darling. You have to fit a cap first so that the wig will sit right on your hair.”

So saying she fitted the cap over my short hair and fingered all the stray locks carefully under the cap. Next she placed the wig down over my forehead then explained how to work the wig back over my head. Once it was fitting properly, she carefully adjusted it then started to gently brush out any stray tangles. In a few seconds, I had a beautiful head of hair. Janice just stared stupidly at the speed and perfection of my transformation.

“That’s nice. Now we really will look like twins.”

With that, Aunty Bev took my hand.

“We’ve got to get some extra shopping done whilst you set your perm darling. I’ll call back for you later.”

Janice shrugged. She had been warned that she might be along time at the hairdressers so she wiggled her fingers as we stepped
into the mall.

“Where next Aunty?” I asked, all agog that we were free to shop on our own without Janice continually demanding equal shares.

Some more outwear darling, you’ve got enough lingerie.

This said she led me straight to Petra’s boutique and introduced me.

“Oh, Mistress Janet’s Academy! Well how wonderful. They do such a wonderful job, but I don’t think they’ll have much trouble with you my young sweetie will they?” Gushed Miss Petra as she bent sown to kiss my cheek.

“I don’t know.” I answered quite honestly for I had no idea what methods Mistress Janet Used.

“Oh I don’t think so my little Cherie! Why your such a delightful little Sissy already.”

With the gushing affection over, Miss Petra showed us around and we soon had a couple more matching ensembles to add to my wardrobe. Finally Petra spoke softly to Aunty Bev.

“If she’s going to Mistress Janet’s are you visiting Miss Stern’s?”

“Oh only to buy the regulation uniforms. She’s just a little sissy and too young yet for the disciplinary stuff. Why she doesn’t even have orgasms yet. Well not the full thing.”

“Yes but they grow up so quickly. A couple of years and, -“

“Well I don’t think so. Not yet anyway. Her little sister makes a perfectly complimentary mistress and so far she’s managed to control Michelle with kindness and a firm hand. Why only this morning she brought Michelle to order whilst being serviced herself.”

“Gosh! Really!”

“Absolutely, didn’t you my Petal?” Added Aunty Bev as she included me in the conversation.

I nodded affirmation absentmindedly for I was too distracted by the beautiful material of my new blouse and the attention some boys were giving me through the window. Aunty Bev saw the boys and smiled knowingly.

‘If they had but known they were admiring a sissy.’ I thought.

“Some more shoes I think.” Declared Aunty Bev as she interrupted my thoughts. “Then we’ll collect your sister.”

Eagerly I followed my aunt out of the boutique and sniffed superiorly as I ignored the boy’s attentions.
Before we came to the shoe shop Aunty Bev ducked into ‘Sock Shop’ and selected some fine gloss tights. At first I thought they were for her but she pointed to the ‘small’ notation on the packet and motioned me to a little changing area.

“I forgot. You’ll need decent tights before you try on some new heels. You were barefooted yesterday when you bought your first shoes but a lady should really wear stockings or tights. Now put these on.”

I sat down and carefully pointed my toes as I made ‘rabbit holes’ with the tights and deftly slid them up to my waist. Aunty Bev nodded approvingly.

“Well; I’m glad to see that you did that properly. No ladders or snags. That’s excellent. How do they feel?”
I slithered my legs together and almost fainted with delight as the high gloss tights hissed against each other. It was just so delicious I almost let out a squeal of pleasure. Fortunately I managed to suppress my surprised delight and sagged against Aunty Bev as I recovered my composure. Needless to say I immediately developed a ‘condition’ but fortunately it was invisible under my pleated skirt and blouse. Aunty Bev smiled knowingly and kissed my cheek as she explained.

“They’re high gloss. Aren’t they just so delicious?”

“Mm-mm.” I sighed as I kept squeezing and rubbing my silky thighs and calves together.

Finally I recovered my composure and Aunty Bev led me to the shoe shop. There I had a delightful time trying on dozens of different shoes while constantly sliding my legs together and mincing up and down the shop as I savoured my new glossy tights and I tried different styles of shoes. Eventually, I had three new pairs of shoes and we left to pick up Janice. When we returned to the Salon, Janice was just finishing and I stared in shocked envy at her gorgeous wavy locks. I just couldn’t resist gently running her hair over my hands as I complimented her.

“Why it’s beautiful. I’m definitely going to grow my hair out so that it’s like yours. It’s just brilliant that we have the same colour hair. Don’t worry sis. I’m going to catch you up.”

Janice smiled and shuddered with pleasure as my fingers gently caressed her scalp. Her hair was just so silky and shiny. Then Toni joined us to explain.

“Janice's hair will take a need a lot of care. I hope you’ll brush it every morning for her.”

I nodded eagerly. The idea of being able to brush and care for such wonderful lustrous hair almost gave me another ‘condition’. I just so wished I could grow my hair as long as Janice's but I knew it would take at least two years to grow it down to my waist. I would just have to be patient.

When we left the shop Aunty Bev took us for lunch.

This chapter explores Michelle's transvestism in greater depth and touches upon some of the 'mysteries' of the sissy farms.

---

The Sissy Farm

Chapter 5.

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 My transvestite uncle

We were allowed to indulge ourselves with some lovely pastries for lunch and Aunty Bev did not mind us each having a cup of coffee.

“Why you two not only look alike, you behave the same as well. I’m getting very fond of my twins.”
Janice and I exchanged smiles as we savoured our diet busting delights. Lunch was eventually over and Aunty Janice took us off to Miss Stern’s shop. It was a mainly a school outfitters and several local school uniforms were displayed prominently in the window. It was still early in the summer holidays so the shop was only moderately busy.
Only the better-organised families were choosing the school outfits for their children. The rush would come towards the end of the holidays when last minute harassed parents turned up looking to kit their children out. Nevertheless, the shop was busy and we had to wait a short while to be served so Janice and I were allowed to look around the shop. Eventually an assistant arrived to attend to Aunty Bev and she motioned to us to come to her side as she explained to the assistant.

“I’ll need to deal personally with Miss Stern. Miss Janet’s academy, you know.”

“Oh. Very well Madam,” replied the assistant knowingly. “She’s busy just now; would you like to wait in the anteroom?”

Aunty Bev nodded and we were escorted down a short corridor to wait outside a heavily constructed door. We took our seats and the pretty young assistant smiled at us as Janice and I first checked the seats before sitting demurely and attentively either side of Aunty Beverly. We sat silently until we heard some cries of distress emanating from the room behind the big door. Janice leant forward and peered past Aunty Bev as she caught my eye. I frowned nervously for we both wondered what was going on. A child, - it sounded like a boy, - was loudly protesting about something. Suddenly there was a short remonstration from another person, a woman by the sound of it, and this was followed by a sharp series of smacking sounds. To my ears it sounded like a bottom being smacked. The protests fell silent and things behind the door seemed to have calmed down. It was another quarter of an hour before things began to happen.

Eventually, the big door opened and a large tearful child emerged. The child hesitated in the doorway as it glanced nervously up and down the corridor and Janice and I quickly realised why. The child was a boy who was dressed in the most effeminate, frilly dress I had ever seen. His waist was incredibly small and he was panting slightly as he stood trembling with fear.
The hem of his dress ballooned out to just below his knees as he hesitated in the doorway. Then somebody behind him encouraged him to step forward and he walked, or more correctly minced forward only to stand nervously with his knees tight together looking totally confused and frightened.

As he squirmed and wriggled his butt, his posture seemed most stiff and upright.
His wriggling caused the stiff hooped petticoat under the dress to sway and bounce thus revealing the most deliciously ruffled knee length, tight fitting pantalets. The pale blue frills on the white pantalets perfectly matched the pale blue frills on his dress. Additionally, the boy seemed to want to constantly scratch his butt but seemed incapable of doing so.
It was only by his short hair that Janice and I had recognised him for a boy and a very tearful boy at that. He stared at us and almost froze with fear as he realised our surprised stares meant we had ‘read’ him for a boy. He made to try and retreat back into the room but he was followed by three ladies who evidently had him under their firm control.

“That way now!” Ordered the lead lady as she produced a short swish and whipped it menacingly across the backs of his stockinged calves.

The boy squealed again and resumed mincing up the corridor, as he frantically seemed to be trying to adjust his butt. As they made to enter the main section of the shop, the first lady turned to the third and smiled with evident satisfaction.

“She’ll get used to the stares. It’s the only way with some of them.”

The third lady nodded and instructed the second lady a middle-aged shop assistant, to go with the customer to tally up the bill. She then turned to Aunty Bev.

“Ah. I’m sorry about that, something of a recalcitrant child. They are often like that at first. She’ll change once she starts at Miss Janet’s. Now I’m Miss Stern, I presume you are here for Miss Janet’s academy."

Aunty Bev nodded and gracefully shook Miss Stern’s extended hand. “So, which one of these pretty children is going to Miss Janet’s?”

“Both of them.” Replied Aunty Bev.

“Oh! How sweet. Are they both sissies?”

“Eh, no.” Replied Aunty Bev. “This one is Janice my daughter, she’s eight, and this one is Michelle. She’s my ten-year-old sissy son.”

“Oh how delightful, they could almost be twins.”

So saying she bent down and extended her hand to Janice first. Janice stood up, took her hand and courtesied slightly as she smiled. Miss Stern’s smile beamed with evident approval as she presented her hand to me.
I copied Janice and deliberately courtesied a little lower to emphasise my co-operation. Once again Miss Stern smiled approvingly as she retained a grip of my hand and turned to Aunty Bev.

“Well they are a pair of delightful children and so well mannered. I think we’re going to get along splendidly.”

Aunty Bev patted both of us on the shoulder and Miss Stern led me by the hand as she steered us collectively into the room behind the big door.

On the other side I was amazed by the size of the room and even Janice let out a gasp of surprise. The place seemed to be brimming with acres of lace and frills that would have served a sissy for a lifetime. Janice's gasp was followed by my contented sigh as we stared at the rows of frocks. Miss Stern smiled as she turned to Aunty Bev.

“Well I’m glad they are pleased with what they see. You’ve trained them very well.”

“Well, it wasn’t that hard really,” confessed Aunty Bev. “ Michelle’s a natural born sissy with 100 percent transvestite tendencies. It’s harder to keep her out of frocks than get her into them. She’s tailor made for sissydom.”

“Oh. That’s nice, so no serious disciplinary problems?”

“Oh none whatsoever.”

“Well that’s a relief. I’m sure you heard that noise we had just now.”

Aunty Bev nodded as Miss Stern explained.

“Yes, it is a particularly awful case. The boy has been physically abusing his younger sisters for years. Then he sexually abused a neighbour’s daughter and it went to the courts. The judge knew about Miss Janet’s academy so he was sent here to be fitted for his first term.”

“Oh. Is that the uniform then? That frilly frock she was wearing.”

“Partly. It’s the outdoor ensemble when the girls are outside the school on educational trips etcetera. The everyday uniforms are quite varied depending on the task the sissies are learning on that particular day.”

The dressing and preparing for each day’s lessons is all part of the training. However, there is the disciplinary side but I don’t think these two delightful little ladies will be going down that route.”

So saying she bent down again and kissed us both on the cheeks as we stood obediently awaiting our fittings. Then she sat down and pressed a button on her counter. A bell rang in the front of the shop and the assistant who had first met us, entered the room. She was a very pretty young girl and her eyes widened with satisfaction as she took out her tape measure. Janice and I were immediately enchanted by her. Miss Stern introduced her.

“This is Miranda. I can tell you this now, because you’re going to Miss Janet’s. Miranda is a product of Miss Janet’s academy.”

Janice and I took a double take. ‘Could this delightful girl actually be a sissy?’ We wondered.

Miranda nodded and smiled sweetly as Miss Stern gave her instructions.

“Lift your skirt darling and take down your panties.”

Without a shred of protest, Miranda, did as instructed and gently fingered her secret places until a tiny little tube of flesh eventually winkled out from under the lower edge of her frilly corset that confined her girly curves. I noticed that Miranda had absolutely no hair in that area. It was completely smooth and a peachy pink. Miss Stern went on to explain to Aunty Bev who was staring intently at Miranda’s arrangements.

“As you can see my dear. Miranda is very feminine. That’s her boy clitty and the whole area has been permanently depilated for hygiene purposes. Her boy-clitty can only grow to about an inch and a half when fully erected. It is useless for serving her Mistress, that’s me.

It only serves to relieve her excitement when she’s been a good girl and deserves to be rewarded. Though I must say, Miranda is a perfectly delightful and co-operative sissy so she gets plenty of satisfaction. She is an excellent sales assistant. Thank you Miranda, you can make yourself presentable again.”

Miranda gave a respectful curtsey and adjusted her clothes before kneeling down in a stiff backed posture to measure us. She was efficient and quick as she read out the measurements to Miss Stern.

“Good,” declared Miss Stern as the last measurement was declared. “Well, it’s as I thought, you’re virtually the same sizes. You will readily pass for twins. Is that the planned lifestyle?” She asked Aunty Bev.

“Well, for the early years perhaps.” Declared Aunty Bev. “It’ll keep costs down if they can share their clothes. However, when they’re older, Miss Janice will be the mistress and Michelle the sissy.”

“Quite,” agreed Miss Stern. “Well let’s not beat about the bush, come girls, let’s get you outfitted.”

Having already been mesmerised by the huge range and selection, Janice and I almost fell over each other in our eagerness to choose our frilly frocks. Miss Stern and Miranda smiled as they noted our enthusiasm and exchanged remarks.

“Well, well. These two are going to be dream students aren’t they Miranda?”

“Oh yes Mistress Stern. Perfectly delightful.”

Our happiness was however not to be total. I discovered that I could only choose green or white frilly frocks whilst Janice could only choose pink or white. Miss Stern noted our disappointment and smiled as she explained.

“All the students can wear white or yellow frocks. That’s the default, neutral colour when they go outside the school and for regular school studies. If the girls want a change of colour, as ladies are want to do, then regular girls can choose pink. Co-operative sissies like you my little beauty, can wear green as green indicates they are co-operative and therefore safe about their sissification. Naughty boys, who are resistant to sissification, have to wear blue frock. Blue for a boy, you understand.

It’s a clear message to everybody at the school that the occupant of a blue frock is a boy and a naughty one at that. It’s just one more humiliation in the training to make them compliant.”

Miss Stern then bent down and held up a green frock against me as she smiled.

“You’re so lucky darling. You’ll never have to wear a blue frock unless you’re very naughty.”

“But I like pink.” I sighed.

“Well that’s a pity darling. Pink is for girls and you won’t be able to wear pink unless of course, - you, -“

“Oh no! I don’t ever want to lose my pee-pee.”

“Quite my dear. You’re perfect sissy. You’ll get along famously at Miss Janet’s.”

With our frocks selected, Miss Stern then led us to another rack that I recognised immediately as corsets.

“Oh. Will we be wearing corsets as well?” I asked, pleasantly surprised.

Miss Stern’s eyes widened with evident satisfaction as she exchanged a huge smile with Miranda then turned to me.

“Why do you like wearing corsets young lady?”

“Well I don’t know. I only help Aunty Bev with hers.”

“Well that’s an excellent start. Come on; let’s get you fitted. Off with your clothes.”

At the end of the row there was an open space but no changing rooms. Miss Stern explained to Aunty Bev who had been following us silently taking everything in.

“As Juniors, they’ll change communally at Miss Janet’s Academy. So they might as well get used to it now. We’ve got a changing area but only for the more senior students. Little girls have nothing to hide.”

Janice and I were by now well used to seeing each other naked so we had already stripped to our panties. Miss Stern smiled as she noticed our bras lying on the back of the chair.

“My, my. You are ambitious little girls aren’t you? A couple of years yet me-thinks, before you fill these.”
Aunty Bev explained.”

“Michelle likes wearing them. It gives her a certain pleasure and a sense of security. I suppose it’s the idea of being somehow constrained and supported. I indulge her, and Janice likes to copy her big sissy sister.”

“Yes, it’s common thing with young transvestites. Well, we’ve a splendid selection of bras and all regulation styles.” She held up my favourite frilly bra as she explained.

“These pretty little bras would not be permitted for the juniors. It’s all about body forming and shape forming. Now, let’s get you two little beauties into these corsets.”

“With little ado Janice and I undid the fasteners and stepped into the closed crotch corsets as we drew them up our legs. I was a little surprised that the corsets had closed panty style bottoms and asked curiously.

“If we wear these how do we pee when we’re laced in? The crotch is closed, there’re no poppers.
Miss Stern smiled.

“They are training corsets darling. When you arrive at Miss Janet’s, you are each allotted a companion. You’re companion always accompanies you to the toilet and assists you. Later, when you are older, you choose a companion. Most sissies become lifelong partners to their companions but you’ll understand all that when you are older. Now, chop chop! Let’s get you laced.”

Janice and I studied each other as we admired the satiny white corsets. They even had little cup forms in anticipation of any development. We both felt very ‘grown up’ at the idea of wearing corsets. Contentedly, I turned my back to Janice as she started to tug at the laces. I noticed that the panty sections were very snug and soon realised that with my pee-pee tucked back, there was no way I would ever develop any ‘conditions’ Still’ as I felt the corset bite into my waist I gave a little gasp of pleasure.

“Ah! That’s tight. Mm-mm. It’s a bit difficult to breath.”

Miss Stern nodded knowingly and took over with the laces. She gave the cords a final tug and tied them off. I felt as though I as going to be cut in half.

“Oo-oh! Oow! Ooooh. That’s tight!”

“That’s how it should be young lady. Now look at your waist in the mirror.”

I turned as I struggled to take little breaths and was stunned at the size of my waist. Miranda produced her tape measure and deftly slipped it around my ten-year-old waist.

“Hmm. That’s perfect. Fourteen inches.”

I had no idea what size a ten-year-olds waist should be but I could see that it was incredibly small. Even Aunty Bev expressed concern.”

“Won’t that affect her growth? The internal organs and stuff.”

“Not for a sissy. Provided the corseting starts early, the body adjusts. Just look at Miranda’s waist.”
Miranda proudly slipped the tape around her waist to present a tiny eighteen-inch girth. Miss Stern went on.

“It’s different for girls of course; the child bearing and all that. Janice's waist won’t be nearly so small.”

It was only then that I noticed Janice's white corset had pink lacy edging whilst my lace was green. As I pulled Janice's laces tight, I soon closed the lace eyelets and Janice's waist was still quite large. That’s not to say that she had no shape, for indeed she was distinctly 'hourglass', but her waist was nothing like as small as mine. Miranda produced the ubiquitous tape, slipped it around Janice's waist and declared.

“Sixteen inches.”

Miss Stern nodded with satisfaction.

“That’s fine for an eight-year-old girl,” she declared. “We’ll allow it to develop naturally as she grows, although she’ll always be corseted unless she becomes a mother. Girls are much more delicate you see, what with carrying babies and stuff.”
Aunty Bev seemed much more relaxed when she studied Janice's figure and tested the corset.

“Yes I see. I can actually slip my finger between her waist and the laces at the back.”

“Exactly.” Agreed Miss Stern. “Now try that with Michelle.”

Aunty Bev stood behind me and tried the same trick. It was quite impossible to slip her fingers down the laces at the back of corset. My body was totally imprisoned. I squeaked with pain as Aunty Bev tried to force her finger between the laces. She stopped as she realised she was actually hurting me.

“Oh I’m so sorry Petal. Yes that’s very tight. I notice it’s heavily boned.” She added as she turned to Miss Stern again. “Can she bend in it?”

“No.” Replied Miss Stern. “It’s to help with Michelle’s posture as well. Give her a demonstration Miranda.”

Miranda promptly bobbed down whilst keeping a perfectly straight back and I realised that Miranda hadn’t bent once while attending to us.

Even when going down to measure our lower parts, she had always bent her knees and kept a straight back. Miss Stern elaborated further.

“Miranda is a perfectly trained sissy now. She is allowed to wear a slightly shorter corset that allows her to bend her legs at the hips. If Michelle tried to bend her legs at the hips she couldn’t. Go on Michelle. Try it.”

I naturally bent forwards and found that I could hardly bend at the hip at all. In fact I was so tightly imprisoned that I unexpectedly lost my balance. I let out a squeal of fear as I started to topple like a log but fortunately Miranda had anticipated my plight. She stepped forward and cushioned my fall as my face fetched up into her delightfully fulsome breasts. My nose dug into her cleavage and I snuffled as I tried to recover my balance. For a second, Miranda held me to her bosom but it was not for long.

Miss Stern was obviously alert to any unwarranted licentiousness and Miranda soon stood me upright again. A tight knowing smile flickered across Miss Stern’s lips as she gave Miranda a knowing glance.

“Well. That’s enough of that. If Michelle would like to walk a few paces, we can see how the corset performs. Come along darling. Walk up the aisle and back.”

I realised immediately that the long, thigh length corset with the built in closed panty section would severely restrict my gait. I took a number of steps before I finally perfected the walk and took delicate mincing steps with my toes following a straight narrow line as the tapered corset compressed my thighs together. After a series of short mincing strides I finally reached the end of the aisle and turned to face the mistresses.

“Now try running darling.” Ordered Miss Stern.

I realised immediately that running was almost impossible but my residual boyish nature compelled me to try. As I speeded up my gait, I found the effort strenuous and soon ran short of breath. The corset restricted my chest as well as my thighs and deep breathing was all but impossible.

I ended up taking short rapid little breaths in the top of my rib cage and quickly ran short of air. As I approached Miss Stern, I began to feel quite faint and my face paled.

“Oh — oh. She’s having an attack of the vapours!” Declared Miss Stern as she reached out to save me from collapsing.

Once again I ended up with my nose and face buried in a lady’s bosom. This time it was Miss Stern’s majestic array. I snuffled again and struggled for air as Miss Stern realised the soft ripe flesh of her breasts was actually blocking my mouth and nose. She gently peeled me out of her cleavage and stretched me out on a settee that was obviously there for exactly that purpose. As I lay dizzily recovering my senses, I wondered how many other sissies had been through this same experience. It was several minutes before I recovered for I had become quite disorientated from shortage of breath. Aunty Bev seemed quite concerned as she fanned my face.

“Do you think we had better loosen her stays a bit?”

“Oh no.” Said Miss Stern. “It wasn’t serious. She’ll get used to it. Within a week, she’ll be breathing in little breaths quite normally.

Just remember, no strenuous exercises. Little sissies must always be genteel and poised.”

“What about Janice?” Pressed Aunty Bev.

“There’s less of a problem there. Janice can breathe fairly freely. She’ll even be able to run about a bit. Go on Janice. Show us.”

Janice immediately set off down the aisle with quick purposeful steps. She even broke into a mincing trot halfway down and continued to the end of the aisle before turning and trotting back. She arrived panting a bit but nothing like as distressed as I had been. Aunty Bev checked Janice's condition.

“Are you OK Darling?”

“Yes Aunty,” replied Janice, “it’s a bit tight but nothing as bad as Michelle’s.”

“Good, declared Miss Stern. Now the next thing is suspender belts and stockings. Normally, these are put on first and the panty corset goes over them but for this once we can just place them over the corset. Are you ready?”

I had recovered enough to nod my head weakly but it was quite impossible for me to get up off the sofa. The corset was simply too rigid. I flapped my arms weakly and Janice quickly recognised my plight.

“Michelle won’t be able to bend enough to put her stockings on!” She giggled.

“Quite,” replied Miss Stern. That’s why we always put the stockings and suspender belt on first. The stockings always have to go under the corset at the bottom anyway. However, you’ll find some suitable little slots to facilitate this. The suspender elastic can be threaded through the slots and drawn down under the lower part of the corset. Miranda will help just this once.”

I was promptly laid back onto the settee again while the suspender belt was fitted around my tiny waist. Then Miranda carefully reached up under the hem of my corset and felt around for the clips as she threaded them through the tiny slots. Naturally this gave her a splendid opportunity to feel my little pee-pee tucked back in the tight panty crotch and she smiled as I tried not to reveal my excited ‘condition’ Miss Stern could readily understand why Miranda seemed to be ‘having trouble’ threading the clips but her knowing smile remained enigmatic.

Eventually, all six suspender clips were sticking out from under the stiff lacy hem of my thigh length corset and Miranda started to slide the super glossy stockings up my soft hairless legs. Then she adjusted the clips so that they tugged the welts of the stockings high up my legs under the corset and almost to my built-in panties. As she worked the stocking up to my crotch, there was no hiding the rock-hard condition of my pee-pee. With a final tickle and stroke, she left me utterly frustrated and totally unable to relieve myself in any way. I just could not bend enough to reach under the hem of my corset and reach back up to my crotch. I was left hanging on the edge of frustration!

Next, Miss Stern helped me to stand and took me over to the rack to choose my frock. Despite the tensions building up in my body, I still could not resist choosing the frilliest ensemble. Miss Stern positively gushed with delight as she dressed me and buttoned up the bodice at the back. Finally she sighed as she finished of the giant bow and fluffed it out for full effect.

“Oh you’re such a precious little sissy! Why you’re a natural. It’s such a delight to serve a natural born sissy. Why that’s the most dainty, and gloriously frilly design we have. Just look at her Miss Beverly! Doesn’t she look absolutely super?”

I had to admit. I had never seen Aunty Bev’s smile beam so much as she replied.

“Perhaps a nice little parasol, a bonnet and some white Mary Jane’s, and she’ll be just perfect.”

Miss Stern clapped excitedly as she despatched Miranda to fetch the suggested items. Naturally, Miranda returned with two of everything. Janice was to be dressed the same way and we were to appear almost as identical twins except for our slightly differing waist sizes and the different coloured frilly edgings to our dresses. Mine was pale green whilst Janice’s was pink.

Had I been a naughty boy, my edging would have been pale blue, like the boy who had minced out earlier with tears in his eyes. As I thought back to his tearful demeanour, I now realised that he had been strictly corseted as well.
Finally, Janice was dressed and we were made to parade up and down the aisle as two large mirrors were wheeled out for us to study our reflections. Both Janice and I gasped as we recognised a pair of virtually identical twins. Only our hairstyles and colour-coded frills separated us. Unfortunately Aunty Beverly just had not been able to find me a matching waist length wig in the same colour hair as my little sister’s. As we held hands in front of the mirror, we could not help squeezing our hands and smiling at each other. Despite the rigours of my corset, the reflection in the mirror was perfectly delightful!

As Janice and I savoured our delightfully frilly appearances, Miss Stern drew Aunty Bev aside.

“Would you like to see the disciplinary section for naughty boys?”

Aunty Bev’s eyes widened with curiosity so Miss Stern instructed Miranda to keep we two children busy as she took Aunty Bev through another door.

Miranda wasted no time in entertaining us as the door closed behind Aunty Bev.

“Are you two excited about going to Miss Janet’s?”

We nodded hesitantly as Janice asked.

“Will we always have to wear these corsets?”

“Yes, except for gymnastics. Then you get to wear a merry widow to allow you some freedom. Would you like to see them?”

We nodded and she led us to another rack where there were some very short corsets with the same tiny waists. Miranda explained.

“With these you can bend more easily and you can breath freely to play hockey. You have games twice a week and gymnastics twice a week. Nearly all the pupils choose to do games for it gives them a rare opportunity to be free of the regulation corsets. I used to love gymnastics, that’s why I have such a lovely figure.”

Our eyes fell covetously to Miranda’s slender waist and I couldn’t resist placing my hands on it. Miranda took my fingers and delicately led them up the stiff boning to her breasts. I savoured the deliciously ripe swellings as they wobbled provocatively where her deep inviting cleavage was served up by the built-in balconette bra of her corset. Miranda glanced down at her abundant breasts and smiled.

“They are double D’s. That’s the dream for every sissy. All the pupils at Miss Janet’s are very lucky. If they don’t grow completely naturally then they get some help.”

“Are yours natural?” Asked Janice, who was mesmerised by the creamy soft swellings.

Miranda smiled and pressed both our hands into her cleavage as she replied proudly.

“Yes darlings, they are all mine and I’m one of the prize members of the sissy herd.”

“Sissy herd! What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh you’ll learn all about that when you go to Miss Janet’s. It’s a wonderful organisation. Now d’you want to see my little pee-pee again?”

Both Janice and I had been fascinated by Miranda tiny little pink appendage and we nodded eagerly. Miranda smiled invitingly and lay back upon the settee as she lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees. Janice and I were fascinated by Miranda’s pink frilly corset.

“I thought boy sissies only wore green or blue.” I declared accusingly.

“Oh that’s only for pupils at Miss Janet’s. I’m an adult sissy now. I’ve left school so I can wear whatever my mistress allows.”

“D’you like pink?” I asked, looking for some supportive thread of commonality to my own preferences.

Miranda smiled and nodded as she spread her legs and gently eased out her tiny little pee-pee again. It was only about half an inch long and about a third of an inch wide. Janice giggled.

“It’s smaller than Michelle’s!”

Miranda giggled as she explained.

“It’s only for pleasure. Sissies serve their mistresses by other ways. This is my boy clitty and it’s only for when I go to the parlour.”

“The parlour?” I asked.

“Yes darling, the dairy parlour. I may have left school but I’m still a member of the sissy herd.”

“Can it grow at all?” Asked Janice as she fingered the soft fleshy little tube hoping to make grow stiff like mine did.
Miranda twitched and squirmed but nothing happened as she gasped.

“It only grows stiff when I’m in the dairy parlour, when I’m being milked with my milking partner.”

Neither Janice nor I understood any of this but we resolved to ask Aunty Bev. Miranda was adamant that she could not tell us any more about the sissy herd. We continued asking her other questions about Miss Janet’s academy and were surprised when Miss Stern and Aunty Bev appeared behind Miranda. They had entered by another door and crept upon us in anticipation of Miranda doing exactly what she had done. Miranda suddenly recognised the surprised expressions on our faces and she whipped around fearfully to Find Miss Stern and Aunty Beverly looming over her. She moved to yank up her panties and tug down her skirt but Miss Stern spoke softly.

“Oh please Miranda. Don’t be so shy on our behalf. Where you explaining something to the girls.”

Miranda teared up fearfully as she lowered her head and courtesied.

“Yes Mistress Stern.” She croaked softly as fear stole her voice.

“Why do tell. What have you got down there that might be of interest to young girls?”

“I was explaining mistress.”

“Explaining what, may I ask?”

“About boy-clitties. How they are so small and cannot be of any use to a lady. How they cannot harm a lady or threaten them. How sissies are completely bent to a mistresses will.”

Miss Stern smiled and led Aunty Bev around to Miranda’s exposed boy-clitty.

“There you see Miss Beverly. It’s still tiny and flaccid. It can never you know, become a threat to a lady. It only serves to pleasure Miranda when the occasion demands.”

“Milking time.” Observed Aunty Bev knowingly.

“Exactly. These two young misses will learn all about it when they attend Miss Janet’s academy.” Miss Stern then smiled condescendingly at Miranda as she gently tickled Miranda’s boy-clitty. “There-there, my delightful little sissy. You just tuck your tiny little plaything away until milking time tonight.”

Miranda’s eyes widened with pure relief as her tears dried up and she curtsied as low as her corset would allow. Miss Stern smiled and we resumed shopping to complete our outfits. Finally we gathered all the shopping bags together and returned to the front of the shop. Miranda rang up the sales and whispered to us as Miss Stern spoke to Aunty Bev by the door.

“You’re always welcome to shop here. Your aunty has opened an account. Are you full time boarders as Miss Janet’s or just weekdays?”

“Weekdays.” Replied Janice as Miranda arranged the parcels and gathered together a load for herself.

It was obvious we would need help to the car. Miss Stern held the door open and graciously exchanged a kiss with Aunty Bev as we minced through the door with our arms piled high. Shopping was such a delight but it was hard to carry a load and bend down to fill the car when our corsets prevented us bending. Miranda understood our plight and graciously unloaded our arms as the boot of the car filled up.

Our next ordeal was getting into the car as the corsets restricted our bending. I had to sort of lean backwards into the car then flop back as my ruffled frock and hooped petticoat flicked up to expose my thighs. Aunty Bev watched a little disapprovingly as my corset and stockings flashed into view.

“We’ll have to see about a longer frock before school starts darling. We can’t have you exposing yourself like that. It’s inviting trouble.”

Miranda curtsied respectfully and suggested that a longer pair of frilly pantalets would also help, just like the other naughty boy had been wearing.

“There are several pairs in the outfits Mistress Beverly. You’ll see what I mean when you’re dressing them tomorrow.”

“I think I’ll be dressing them tonight.” Replied Aunty Bev as she helped Janice into the front seat.
Janice had the same problem as her frock and ruffles flicked up to reveal her stocking thighs and lacy corset edge. Fortunately the door of the car prevented everybody getting a flash of underwear. Even so, Janice and I found it somewhat difficult to sit casually in the car. We were compelled to maintain a stiff upright posture whilst the corsets dug painfully into our thighs. Mine also bit painfully into my waist to add further discomfort. As I fidgeted and gasped tiny little breaths, Aunty Bev smiled in the mirror.

“Never mind petal. You’ll soon get used to it. Your shape will change to accommodate the corset and you’ll soon have a perfect sissy figure, just Like Miranda.”

The idea of turning out to look as pretty and curvaceous as Miranda sent a shiver of delight through my imprisoned body. Miranda was such a delightfully pretty and shapely girl. ‘Well sort of girl’, I corrected myself mentally for her boy clitty hardly qualified her as a man it was just too pretty and petite to be called a penis.

Aunty Beverly's words proved correct. Why that very afternoon even as I eased myself somewhat stiffly out of the car the corset seemed a little less tight. I smoothed down my frilly dress and minced around to the rear of the car where Janice and I started unloading the shopping. Once in the house, Aunty Bev decided to try out the whole range of accoutrements associated with attending Mistress Janet’s academy. She had us strip naked and then she made us don the lacy chemise and thigh length frilly bloomers before re-imprisoning ourselves in the corsets. As we made to step into the corsets Aunty Bev suddenly remembered.

“Oh. We all forgot! You have to put the suspenders and stockings on first. Come on. Slip these on first.”

We giggled as we realised there was a learning curve to corsetry. We slipped off our frilly bloomers and secured the suspender belts around our waist before savouring the soft silky sheen of the stockings stretching right up to the tops of our legs. Janice sighed.

“Mm. It’s much better with the stuff going on in the right order. These fit nicely.”

“Yes. They feel very comfortable. Now let’s get these corsets on again.”

Aunty Bev supervised our efforts and pointed out the pitfalls.

“Make sure there are no folds or creases under the corset. The silky material of chemise and the satiny bloomers will help to make the corsets more comfortable.”

We took her advice and Aunty Bev tightened my corset laces to the same tension as Miss Stern had applied. I realised that despite the corset’s tightness, the slippery interplay betwixt the satin lining of the corset and my silky underwear made for some sensuous sensation despite the restriction to my movement.

“Mm-mm.” I sighed as I took short delicate breaths. “This is a bit better.”

“Is it really?” Asked Janice.

“You just wait and see.” I replied. “Come on, let’s do your laces.” I gasped.

Janice squeaked a bit as I tugged her laces but once she was imprisoned again, she felt forced to agree.

“Mmmm. Your right! The silky underwear makes the corset less abrasive. It somehow feels free-er despite the tight fit. I still can’t bend though, can you?”

“No.” I sighed wistfully. ‘If this was to be my new dress mode then I was certainly destined for a life of simpering mincing sissydom.’

Finally we slipped our frocks over our heads and each buttoned the other into our wasp-waist frilly ensembles. For long moments we admired each other in the large hall mirror as Aunty Bev stood cooing with satisfaction. She now had two perfect and adorable little ‘nieces’. The only thing missing was my wig and I turned to Aunty Bev.

“Shall I put it on?”

“No darling. That’s for public occasions. A wig can wear out just like any other item of clothing. Your hair will soon grow out, then we can get it styled somehow.”

I frowned slightly at my reflection. The short boyish hair just did not match the rest of my appearance. Still, at least I was not to be humiliated in public. Now dressed again, Janice and I donned our pinafores and went to assist in the kitchen. Naturally it was a light salad again for we had rather indulged ourselves during lunch. Besides, large meals were virtually impossible in such tight corsets. Once the meal was prepared, Aunty Bev had Janice and I practice sitting in our corsets. It was a trying exercise but eventually we were fairly proficient and managed a reasonably graceful approach to the table. Aunty Bev beamed with satisfaction as we sat straight-backed and nibbled delicately at our salads.
Now darlings. I think it’s time you prepared for bed. Don’t forget you’ve got a busy couple of days in London. The doctor tomorrow and cousin Peregrine the day after.

This chapter introduces Michelle to shopping and corsets. Her acceptance of corseting is voluntary but the constraints appear somewhat severe to her until she grows accustomed to it.

If some readers find this story offensive or 'Too close to the bone' the truth is I wrote it many years before I posted it to FM but I was too afraid to make it public for I thought it too pornographic.

Truth to tell I wrote the bones of this story over thirty years ago long before computers and stuff and even before my children were born. It was an exercise to help me open up the demons that haunted me from my childhood. My wife made me do it because we had serious issues at the time. She is a saint and did more to bring me back to sanity that any of the so-called therapists and psychiatrists.

I make no apologies for the content of this story. It's a lot less traumatic than stuff I suffered!!!

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Chapter 6
The Sissy Farm.

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 My transvestite uncle

Undressing for bed proved to be a prolonged activity. First we had to strip down naked then complete our toilet and shower together before Aunty Bev produced a pair of new corsets.

“These are your sleeping corsets my darlings. They’re very much like your day corsets except that they have these little loops see.

“What are they for?” Asked Janice.

“Eh, they are for securing busy little hands and preventing any naughtiness.”

At first, Janice and I could see nothing to cause alarm and we stepped into them without concern. As Aunty Bev laced us up, we realised that the sleeping corsets were a little tighter and a little longer than our regulation daywear. It was only after we were laced up for the night that we realised just how restrictive the night corsets were.

The hems came right down to our knees so that walking was almost impossible. We both looked down at our exaggerated hourglass figures and sighed helplessly as we recognised the strong metal loops attached to various places. It was now obvious what the metal rings were for. Aunty Bev produced some pretty, jewelled, shiny bracelets, which she clipped around our wrists. Then she secured our hands to the rings down the sides of or thighs. Janice and I let out a nervous whimper as we tried to move our hands. We were helpless. I tried to move forward and discovered I was only able to take the tiniest mincing little steps. Janice also squeaked nervously as she almost lost her balance.

“Careful darlings” cautioned Aunty Bev, “if you topple over in these little beauties, you wouldn’t be able to get up.”

Never was a truer word spoken. We could not move our thighs at all. The only way to walk was by raising our toes and lowering them with each mincing step. Aunty Bev’s eyes widened with satisfaction as she watched us swaying and bobbing.

“You realise girls, you won’t even be able to go up or down stairs with those on.”

“But what happens if we want to, - to, - you know, - go in the night?” Whimpered Janice.

“Come and see me. You’ll find the loops on your corsets are at the same height as my bedroom doorknob so you’ll be able to enter my room to alert me. Now into bed both of you.”

“We both hobbled forward for it was obvious that we were now to share the same bed. I remembered to turn around and topple backwards onto the bed but Janice, -silly girl -, fell forward. As she lay rigid in her corset she realised she could not roll over onto her back.

“Help me!” She cried.

I was totally unable to extend a helping hand so Aunty Bev gently rolled her over onto her back as she arranged us side by side in the large double bed. Then she produced a little spreader bar and attached it to the lower rings at the hems of our corsets.

“What are those for?” I asked.

“Just to keep you properly positioned. No wriggling and cuddling until Doctor Shirley has seen to you.”
‘Seen to us’. I wondered. ‘What did ‘seeing to us’ mean?’

I turned my head to meet Janice's nervous gaze, for at least we could stretch our necks and kiss each other goodnight. As Aunty Bev tucked us in I realised we were virtual prisoners in our sleeping attire. Under the duvet Janice and I managed to entwine our fingers as we prepared for a worrisome night.

Despite our tribulations, we managed to fall asleep. We awoke more or less simultaneously as our bladders alerted us. With considerable difficulty we minced cautiously to Aunty Beverly's door and declared our needs. Fortunately, Aunty Bev was not a monster and she attended to us promptly. After she released us from our night corsets we sighed with relief and set about our toilet. Firstly of course after relieving ourselves, Aunty Bev had me relieve Janice of any tension she had in her little tickly bit.

“It’s just so that she won’t get frustrated during the day darlings. It doesn’t do for a young girl to get frustrated or tense,”

Janice lay back on our bed and I was made to kneel between her slender thighs and suck her little tickly as Aunty Bev supervised.

“Does that feel nice Janice?” She asked my sister.

“Mmm!” Gasped Janice as her butt began to squirm and bounce.

“Good, keep it up Michelle. This is one of the most important functions for a sissy. Servicing her mistress’s every need.”

I gave a muffled acknowledgement as I busily sucked and titillated Janice's tickly with my tongue. Eventually, Janice started to gasp and squirm wantonly and then she gave a loud wail again, just like the previous morning. The wailing persisted for a couple of minutes until slowly, her demeanour calmed down and eventually she laid back alternately gasping and whimpering with satisfaction. I remained kneeling and awaiting instructions until Aunty Bev gently prised my face away from Janice's delicious secret place. She inspected Janice's cleft then declared.

“She’s still a bit wet down there. Lick it clean.”

I did as ordered and Janice giggled with delight.

“Mmmm. No more tissues, I’ve got my own personal cleaner.”

Aunty Bev smiled indulgently as she ascertained that Janice was indeed clean. Then she stroked my back and whispered as she bent in close with me and pointed out Janice's sexual geometry.

“One day, you’ll have a little tickly. It won’t be as small as Janice's it will be more like Miranda’s. Just imagine what it will be like having your own companion sissy caring for you and kissing you and sucking like this.”

I wanted to ask about the ‘here and now’ but I was too afraid to ask. Instead I stood up obediently as Aunty Bev produced our corsets.

“Now, go and make sure your bladder is completely empty,” she ordered as she prepared my clothes. “We don’t want you having any urgent calls whilst we’re in London. After straining to make sure my bladder was empty, I returned and got dressed. Aunty Bev laced me up because Janice did not have sufficient strength to pull the laces tight.

Finally I was fully dressed and Janice had recovered from my attentions. She also slipped into the loo for a second check and assured herself her bladder was completely empty. Aunty Bev left me to assist Janice in dressing and we arrived downstairs completely attired for our visit to the doctor’s. Aunty Bev turned and smiled.

“Yes. You look just perfect. Now a light breakfast and we’ll be off.”

We took the train to London and received many admiring stares from the other passengers. Aunty Bev received several compliments from approving matrons as we sat all prim and proper, quietly reading from our books. The truth was that we had to sit quietly. It was virtually impossible to wriggle about and squirm in our tight corsets. The journey across London in a Taxi proved relatively easy. London taxis are high, roomy things and being little girls, Janice and I did not have to bend down to get in.

We arrived at Doctor Shirley’s relaxed and contented. I had to admit again, Miss Stern had been right, I was getting used to the corset. It somehow seemed less tight and my short shallow breathing was become habitual. Nevertheless, I had to stop several times as we climbed three flights of stairs. Even Janice was a little breathless when we reached the top.
Aunty Bev looked down indulgently as I gratefully settled into a hard upright chair to recover my composure. I could never have flopped down into one of the large, inviting armchairs for I might not have been able to get up.

Janice also chose the other straight-backed upright chair for she was now alert to the same trap. There we sat like two prim and proper, straight-laced bookends until Doctor Shirley’s nurse invited us in.
We rose and minced delicately into her office as Aunty Bev followed and the nurse closed the door behind us. Doctor Shirley studied us and turned to Aunty Beverly.

“Well, I’m impressed. Which one’s the sissy?

“Michelle is the sissy. She’s got the shorter hair.” Replied Aunty Bev.

“Oh! Very good! Well young ladies. I can see that you’re fully corseted so I’ll leave you for a few minutes to disrobe whilst I talk to your aunty. Nurse Lesley will help you.”

Aunty Bev stepped into the inner office whilst Janice and I set to unbuttoning our frocks. As we steadily shed our frilly frocks followed by our lacy petticoats and finally our tight corsets the nurse stood silently supervising and nodding approvingly. Finally we stood in our all-in-one thigh-length silky bloomers and turned expectantly to the nurse. She recognised our unspoken question.

“Yes young ladies, everything. The doctor needs to give you both a thorough examination.”

Without more ado, we both stripped totally nude and the nurse produced two knee length surgical gowns. We slipped into them and laced them loosely at the back. Almost immediately, the door opened again and Doctor Shirley invited us both in.

“I’m treating you both as young adolescent girls but I’ll do Janice first, up you get young lady.”
Janice clambered up onto a table with strange stirrups and the doctor instructed her to place her feet in the stirrups. This spread her legs wide and gave Aunty Bev and me a clear view of Janice's secret places. The doctor turned to me.

“Move in closer Michelle. This is mainly for your benefit. It’s important that you learn how to serve any mistress properly. Janice is a fully formed girl so I’ll be able to explain all the important functions that you’ll most probably be required to perform once you are a sissy with a mistress.

Now. Come in closer. Don’t be shy. If anybody should be shy it should be your sister Janice but she doesn’t seem embarrassed does she.”

I looked up and was slightly surprised to see Janice smile and nod invitingly, so I moved right in as Doctor Shirley started to describe everything and explain their functions. Most of the stuff was simply descriptive. As Janice spread her legs, Doctor Shirley described her labia and the simple functions. Then she explained how stuff in that area would change, as Janice got older; what the secret opening between her labia was really for and what it would do when Janice was excited. I just gaped in rapt attention as I absorbed the information. Then she delicately produced a small metal spoon shaped sort of thing and gently depressed the dark wet area just behind Janice's ‘man-in-the-boat’. I peered closely and recognised the tiny opening where Janice peed from. Doctor Shirley described it and it became plainly apparent why girls always had to wipe themselves after peeing. Finally, Doctor Shirley came to piece-de-resistance.

“Now darling, I want you to understand that this little bud is the most important part of Janice's lady parts. I understand that you have become accustomed to helping Janice gain relief in this area.”

“I’ve only done it twice. Once yesterday morning and this morning.” I confessed innocently.

“Well, that’s a good start. Aunty Beverly tells me you have only used your finger is that right.”

I nodded, not daring to reveal that I had already given Janice a pleasuring with my lips. It was best to feign ignorance as I wondered where this was going.

“Well there is another way to please a lady in this area. Have you ever kissed Janice down there or sucked on her clitoris.”

“Her clitoris?” I repeated curiously.

“Yes darling. This little bud is a woman’s clitoris; it’s the equivalent of your little pee-pee. Just as you like playing with your pee-pee so does Janice. When you’re older you’ll understand why.”

“When I’m older. Why not now?”

“Because neither you nor Janice's bodies are ready for that yet. In a couple of years your body will be able to have an orgasm. That’s when playing with your clitties will bring real rewards.

“Our clitties; but mine is a pee-pee. Boys have pee-pees.”

“Yes darling but sissies only have tiny pee-pees, so tiny that they’re more like clitorises. That’s why they call them boy-clitties.”

“Just like Miranda had in Miss Stern’s shop.” Added Aunty Beverly.

I nodded as Doctor Shirley gently lifted a tiny little hood that seemed to cover Janice's clitoris and revealed a tiny rounded bud that exactly resembled the bell end of my pee-pee except it was miniature version. Janet jerked and let of a whimper of delight. But Doctor Shirley ignored Janice's reactions and explained further.

“This tiny little nubbin is the very core of Janice's being. It’s even shaped like your pee-pee except that it’s infinitely more sensitive. It’s packed with special nerve endings that make it very sensitive. Now I’m going to explain how to give Janice the most wonderful experience of her life. First you must take the little nubbin between your lips then suck it as though it was your thumb, go on.”

I did as instructed and Janice immediately started to writhe and squirm as her whimpering increased to a steady wail of delight.

“Oooh-oooh! Keep sucking like that! Don’t stop!”

I continued sucking for a couple of minutes until Doctor Shirley tapped me softly on the shoulder and whispered in my ear.

“Stop sucking for a moment and have a look at her clitty.”

I did as instructed and was pleasantly surprised to see that Janice's nubbin had almost doubled in size. I turned to Doctor Shirley and remarked.

“It’s bigger and it’s gone stiffer, just like my pee-pee.”

“Exactly darling, you see there’s not that much difference between girls and boys after all. But you’ll see it’s already started to shrink again. Now resume sucking and start to flick it with your tongue.”

As soon as I had sucked it to make it bigger again, I flicked it with my tongue as Doctor Shirley had instructed. Janice let out a squeal of delight then started to shriek with ecstasy as her hips started to hump urgently. Doctor Shirley showed me how to gently embrace Janice's hips and press gently on her tummy to constrain her wild actions. Then Janice started to clutch frantically at the air as she started to drum her heels furiously on my shoulders. I wanted to protest, but Doctor Shirley gently restrained Janice's heels as she started to moan and wail as her head whipped from side to side. Then with a final penetrating scream, Janice arched her back and held it stiff for several minutes as her moans steadily increased in volume. Fortunately, Doctor Shirley’s office was well sound proofed or somebody in the street might have made inquiries. Finally, Janice gave a deep shudder and she slumped back onto the table as her cries became steadily softer. Doctor Shirley then fingered the lips of Janice's lady parts and nodded knowingly as she smiled at me.

“You’re sister seems to have a condition know as precocious puberty. She’s somewhat advanced for an eight-year-old girl.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Interrupted Aunty Beverly.

“Well her body is somewhat advanced for a young girl. She is already experiencing orgasms.”

“Is it serious?”

“No. We can introduce hormone blockers if you want. That would prevent any instance of premature menarche, which sometimes accompanies such a condition. You understand, - menstruation and such like.”

“Will it harm her development in any way?”

Not in the short term. For a couple of years it might help. Anyway, she’s not that advanced, after all, it’s not unusual for girls to start by aged ten these day, what with diet and what-have-you.

“Well you decide what’s best.”

“It’s not that serious,” continued Doctor Shirley, “Janice is eight after all and only a month shy of her ninth birthday.”

“So you are saying it’s not necessary.”

“I don’t think so. I’m quite sure Mistress Janet’s Academy will be well up to speed on her care.”

“That’s OK; they are only going to be weekly boarders. She’ll be able to see you any Friday evening or Saturday morning.”

Doctor Shirley nodded as she turned to catch me licking Janice's soaking labia clean.

“Who taught you that Michelle?”

“Janice doctor. It saves her having to wipe every time.”

“Very good young lady. You’re going to make some mistress the most perfect sissy. Has she finished lubricating?”

“I think so.” I replied as I failed to lick any more fluids from inside her labia.

“Excellent. Well now it’s your turn. Come on girls, change places. Janice can see what happens with you. Have you ever had an orgasm?”

I wagged my head uncertainly.

“I don’t know.”

“Well take it from me young lady, you haven’t. Once you’ve had an orgasm you’ll know!”

Aunty Bev, Janice and the nurse all giggled knowingly as I changed places with Janice and nervously spread my legs to place my feet in the stirrups. Naturally, Janice moved in for a close inspection as Doctor Shirley started to explain about my adolescent anatomy.

These two little balls in this tiny sack are her testicles. If she was going to grow into a man these would stat to grow in a few years and the sack would get bigger and looser. At the moment though it’s like a wrinkled little purse with a seam down the middle. That’s where she changed into a little boy when she was inside your mummy’s womb. All little babies start off as girls inside their mummies but hormones make half the babies start to change after a few weeks. The opening that little girls have got starts to close up in little boys and that seam is the join. It looks just like a poorly made repair to a torn purse doesn’t it?”

Janice giggled as she gently ran her finger along the seam right to the back of my scrotum. I wriggled and giggled for it tickled a bit. Doctor Shirley smiled indulgently as she continued.

“That little bag is called her scrotum and as you can see, it’s quite sensitive. That’s because the two little balls inside are very sensitive and vulnerable. If you damage those, Michelle will never become a proper boy. They are also very sensitive, watch.”

She gave my scrotum and testicles a firm squeeze and I squealed with fright.

“Ow-oow! That’s sore!” I wailed.

“Yes darling,” agreed Doctor Shirley, “they are very sensitive. Often when male animals fight, they try to bite their opponent’s testicles off so that they won’t be a threat to their harem in the future.

The old Arabian Sultans used to cut off the testicles of little boys so that they could work in the harems and look after all the pretty girls. These boys grew up to become eunuchs. They could not get their little pee-pees ever to be hard and they couldn’t make it grow to put inside the Sultan’s pretty girls. When a boy has these cut out, it’s called castration.”

“Is that what you are going to do to Michelle?” Asked Janice.

“Oh good gracious no. Michelle’s a perfectly delightful, natural little sissy as it is. She doesn’t need to be castrated. That only happens at Mistress Janet’s if the boy has to be severely punished and controlled. Usually, he has done something very seriously wrong to a girl or girls.”

I sighed inwardly. I wanted to keep my pee-pee because I got lovely sensations from it. Doctor Janice continued.

“Sometimes we return the testicles back inside a sissy’s tummy for cosmetic purposes. They still work and let a sissy get excited but she can’t make babies, or at least it’s very unlikely. Having the testicles surgically re-ascended makes a sissy’s panties much neater and she can wear thongs if their mistresses prefer thongs. Their pee-pees are so small that there’s nothing to fall out of the skimpiest panties. If you remember, Miranda is like that. Do you remember when she showed you her boy-clitty in the shop? There was no wrinkly bag behind her boy-clitty, her panties were smooth and neat. No unsightly bulges.”
Janice nodded agreement and commented.

“It was nice and smooth and neat all the way back to her poo hole.”

“Did she have her poo-hole plug in?”

“Yes.” Replied Janice, “it was a big pink one. What’s that for?”

“Oh you’ll learn all about that at Mistress Janet’s. It’s to make sissies obedient and sweet if they’ve ever been naughty. Miranda was a bit of a naughty boy when she first went to Mistress Janet’s but now she’s the sweetest sissy in your town. Do you like her?”

Janice nodded and smiled, as did I for Doctor Shirley had directed the question at both of us. Janice asked again.

“Will Michelle have a poo-hole plug?”

“We don’t know yet. It’s usually reserved for naughty boys but sometimes a natural sissy finds out she likes them and takes to wearing one of her own volition. Shall we see if Michelle has any predilections in that direction?”

Janice nodded eagerly and Doctor Shirley reached into a drawer below the table. I craned my neck but could not see what she was doing until I heard a soft buzzing sound. Then to my surprise I felt a smooth round thing being pressed against my bum hole. It was vibrating rapidly and I twitched as the smooth rounded end pressed inquisitively against my tight little ring.

“Oo-ooh. What’s that?”

“It’s called a vibrator. Ladies use them sometimes to please themselves and lots of sissies find them essential for their own delights. It’s useful to find out early if a sissy likes to have their poo-hole tickled because it tells a lot about a sissy in later years. Do you like it?” Asked Doctor Shirley as she pressed the vibrating knob a little harder against my bum.

“It’s nice like that, it tickles.” I giggled and twitched responsively.

“Would you like it to go inside you, like Miranda’s butt plug was?”

“I don’t know. Does it hurt?”

“Well I’ll lubricate it first and then we’ll see, shall we? It’s called a vibrator by the way, because as you’ve already realised, it vibrates. Some ladies call them dildos.”

“I sucked my lip thoughtfully, for I had never ever put anything up my bum before. I had once seen Janice push a small round peg up her dingly-dell when she was pretending to have a pee-pee like me and she had said it didn’t hurt. Mummy caught us playing and Janice was told off about it. Fortunately, daddy hadn’t found out and mummy had explained that it was called something like ‘penis-envy’, though what that meant, I had no idea. I was only eight and Janice was six at the time.

As I lay back with my legs wide apart, Doctor Shirley slipped on some rubber gloves then took some ointment from a tube and generously lubricated the pink plastic dildo. Next she took some more ointment and gently introduced it to my butt. I squeaked because the ointment was cold and tensed nervously. Doctor Shirley hesitated and smiled encouragement.

“Try and relax, just pretend there’s nothing there.”

This was easier said than done. My tight little rose hole simply did not want to be invaded. I started to cry nervously so Doctor Shirley stopped immediately.

“Hmm. Obviously you don’t like it. It seems you are a heterosexual transvestite sissy, but we already knew that. You’re going to make some mistress a very happy lady.”

“Can I be her mistress?” Begged Janice.

“I’m afraid not darling,” Replied Aunty Beverly. “You’re Michelle’s sister. Mistresses sometimes marry their sissies and keep them like a wife to do all the womanly things around the house. It’s most unusual for a sister to keep a sibling for a sissy.”
“Oh it has been known, though it’s unusual,” interrupted Doctor Shirley, “usually the sissy has been castrated or sterilized. You understand incest and all that. Inbreeding and such like.”

Aunty Bev’s eyes widened with curiosity and she studied her nieces thoughtfully as she replied to Doctor Shirley.

“Well, we’ll have to see about that. Though they do get along very well. There’s rarely a cross word between them and everybody knows how brothers and sisters can fight. These two little darlings are a sheer delight to have around the house. They’re both ever so helpful with the domestic chores.”

By now, Doctor Shirley had replaced the dildo in the drawer and she gently took my little pee-pee in her fingers. The ointment felt cool and smooth on my pee-pee and I twitched responsively as I felt it begin to harden.

“Hmm. That response is healthy.” Observed Doctor Shirley as she turned to my Aunty Bev while gently ‘testing’ the underside of my fraenum. “She’s hard already. Do you like that Michelle?”

I nodded vigorously and humped hopefully as the sensations increased. Doctor Shirley’s eyes widened with mild curiosity.

“Why, I do believe we might be able to, - stand back ladies, this could get interesting.”

So saying, Doctor Shirley started to accelerate her motions on my pee-pee and I started to feel the weirdest sensations building up inside it.

I started to grunt in a most unladylike manner but was utterly unable to stop as a sort of pressure wave started to build up in my pee-pee. Then to my astonishment, I felt my pee-pee start to twitch and squirt with astonishing sensations that sent violent tickles of delight pulsating along my pee-pee. I let out a squeal of surprised ecstasy as I watched a series of white droplets squirting over my head, across the room and splashing against the door of Doctor Shirley’s filing cabinet.

“Ooh! Oooh! Oo-ooh! Aaah! Aaah! Aiyee! Oo-owooh!” I was even shocked myself by the most unladylike squeals and cries I was making but I could not stop myself. Something had taken hold of my whole body and there was no way I could stop it.
I humped and squirted for several more seconds then the sensations subsided as quickly as they had arrived; completely uncontrolled and utterly unexpected. When they finished I sat there shocked and stunned with my jaw sagging stupidly as I struggled to recover my breath. Doctor Shirley’s face was a picture! She stared at me for a moment then wagged her head with amazement.

“Well! Would you look at that Miss Beverly! ‘Like daughter, like son,’ another precocious pubescent. Goodness me! It must run in the genes. Well we’d better get you cleaned up young lady. That was a spectacular display. Oh my, what are we to do with you?”

By now I was recovering my composure and I was searching around for some tissues as I looked up beseechingly.

“I’m sorry! I’ll clean up the mess. Honest. I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Doctor Shirley took off her rubber gloves and reached out to comfort me as she inspected the odd couple of droplets that had splashed into my hair and onto my chest. Then she bent down and kissed me softly.

“Oh never mind my beautiful little sissy. It comes to all little boys eventually. I should have been better prepared; after all I am a doctor!”

She motioned to the nurse who was standing also with mouth agape, to get the tissues. Then she turned to me again.

“That, my dear little Michelle, would you believe it my darling, was an orgasm; a little boy’s orgasm. Did you like it?”

I stared up tearfully and still apologetic about the mess but I had to confess that the sensation had been delightful. I just could not believe a body could experience such an overwhelming wave of sensation. In fact I was a little afraid of it all for I had lost all control. Doctor Shirley sensed my fears and she reassured me with a kiss as she gently took a tissue from the nurse and wiped the glistening silvery fluid from my short boyish hair. Fortunately I had taken my wig off when told to strip naked. She then handed me some tissues to wipe my chest and shoulders before taking a little spatula from it’s wrapping and scraping up the splashes on her cabinet door. As she placed them on a small glass disc she turned to Janice and I.

“Well, we can have a little biology lesson while we’re here. Let’s see if Michelle is fertile? Put your gowns on and we’ll study this sample under my microscope.”

Full of curiosity Janice and I followed Doctor Shirley to a small anteroom where she had a microscope and several other scientific looking instruments arranged on a high bench by a large window. She took the sample, placed it into the microscope and studied it briefly.

“Hmmm. It’s a good sample. It looks healthy and there’s excellent motility. D’you want to see. Janice and I were almost dancing in our eager excitement but of course, Janice, being the lady, was invited first. As Janice was hoisted up onto the high stool, Aunty Bev gently restrained my shoulder and whispered.

“Always ladies first and sissies second.”

“Sorry Aunty Bev,” I apologised. “I’m so excited.”

“I’m sure you are Petal but let’s not forget ourselves.”

I tried to wait patiently but I found it almost impossible. Janice seemed to take forever as she asked a string of questions. I thought her last question was silly.

“Is it dangerous?” She asked.

All three adult ladies laughed with amusement as the doctor smiled and gently lifted her down to the floor. She explained to Janice.

“It can be darling if you’re ever careless and get it inside your vagina. But then again darling, if you ever want to be a mummy and have babies, this stuff is essential.”

Janice nodded and smiled coquettishly at me as Doctor Shirley invited me up to have a look. I could scarcely contain myself and clambered eagerly up onto the stool.

The tiny tadpoles wriggling across the plate fascinated me and I had lots of extra questions. Janice had not asked nearly enough. Doctor Shirley answered each one patiently and after I had exhausted my questions she explained a bit further.

“There are tens of thousands of those little gentlemen in your sample and every one of them has the chance to join with a lady’s egg to make a baby.”

“Gosh! You mean I made all those and I didn’t even know.”

“You did indeed darling. The body is a marvellous thing. However when you’re older it won’t matter. As a sissy you would need a lot of help to give a mistress a baby. That’s if you’re able to and if you’re ever allowed to. Most mistresses wouldn’t dream of allowing their sissy to give them a baby but there are some more caring mistresses who might. You’ll learn all about that when you’re older. Now have you any more questions?”

I wagged my head and shrugged softly as Doctor Shirley helped me down off the stool. I could have easily done it myself but it felt nice to be a bit sissyish and accept her hands around my waist as she lowered me gently to the floor. I looked up and smiled as I demurely thanked her. Doctor Shirley smiled and bent down to kiss me on the forehead.

“Why Michelle you’re just a perfectly sweet, little, sissy doll! Now, go with your sister Janice and get dressed while I talk to your Mistress.”

I was about to say that Aunty Bev was our aunty not our mistress but promptly checked my tongue. (I was learning.) I remained silent and followed Janice with the nurse to get dressed again. In the Anteroom Doctor Shirley chatted with Aunty Bev.

“Well of course Miss Halsey you’re very lucky really. Michelle is such a compliant and willing little sissy you’ve almost got a blank canvas to paint any picture you want. Have you any particular preferences?”

“Well it’s a bit early yet; I mean she’s only ten, - well nearly eleven, next week in fact.”

“Well it’s never too early, in fact the earlier the better. The good news of course is that we can completely arrest her male puberty and control any development with hormones. That’s the part I like the best. It’s so much easier if you can catch them young. It’s so much easier for the child also. Now Michelle’s a very intelligent child. How do you feel about her taking up a profession in late life? -Law, or medicine or something? The trans-gendered community always needs sympathetic support in those fields.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Declared Aunty Bev. “I think for the first two years we should just watch developments.”

“Well that’s not really a good idea. I think we should at least start Michelle on some mild hormones. Even eleven-year-old girls start to develop breasts these days. Anyway, her sister Janice will certainly do so with her precocious puberty. In fact we could more or less progress them in parallel.”

“Mmm. That would be good. It would be much easier dressing them and stuff if they grow up together as twins.”

“Well I think that’s the first strategy. I’ll give them both some suitable shots and put them on a hormone regime. The good thing about Mistress Janet’s academy is that they are well experienced in hormone treatments. They will readily dose your nieces with my prescriptions. Do you know, I’ve got about thirty young patients who are pupils attending that academy and they’re all progressing well. One thing I can be sure of is that the treatments are adhered to rigidly.”

“Well I’m pleased to her that. What else is required, medically I mean?”

“I can’t think of much.”

At that my loud squeak from next alerted Aunty Bev to a final question. The nurse had just pulled my corset really tight and the force she had used had surprised me. The corset was the tightest I had ever had it.

“That was Michelle having her corset laced. Will it harm her development?”

“Well, provided she gets plenty of gentle exercise it won’t do her much harm. The hormones will give her an hourglass shape anyway and I see there was plenty of room for development of her breasts. A small waist is not too serious for a sissy. Be careful with your niece though, she has to have room to carry babies when she’s older. They make look like twins but Janice I’m afraid, will always have to have a slightly thicker waist. That’s the nicest thing about sissies. They can be such panty-waists.”

“Panty waists?” Asked Aunty Bev, a bit puzzled.

Doctor Shirley smiled.

“It’s an American expression. The U.S. marines sometimes use it to describe somebody who’s a bit fussy or incapable of ever completing the course.”

Aunty Bev rolled the expression around her tongue.

“Panty-waist, - yes that’s a nice one. Michelle, my little panty-waist, and she will have a real panty waist by the time she’s an adult.”

“By the time she’s sixteen, nobody would ever recognise her for once having ever been a boy,” smiled Doctor Shirley. “Now, how long are you in town?”

“Well we’re staying with my brother tonight. He’s got a flat in Pimlico. Then he’s taking his nieces to see some of the sites tomorrow and I anticipated returning home tomorrow evening or perhaps the day after.”

Doctor Shirley sat silent for a moment, trying to determine if Aunty Bev was of the same sexual persuasion, then she took the plunge.

“Would you like to come and visit a club tonight?”

“What sort of club?” Replied Aunty Bev, recognising the undertones of the invitation.

“Well, - it’s a sort of alternative life-style club.”

“You mean a lesbian club.” Declared Aunty Bev boldly.

Doctor Shirley relaxed. The subject was out in the open.

“Well, not just Lesbian. There are other persuasions as well, transvestites, transsexuals. The difference is that the members are carefully vetted for their tolerance and liberality. You can be surprised how antagonistic some alternatively sexual people can be to other alternatives.”

Aunty Bev nodded sagely.

“Yes, you’re right. The truth is I’m bisexual but I’m sympathetic to my brother Peregrine, he’s a transvestite. He suffered a lot in the village where we were raised and yet the woman who most objected to him when he came out turned out to be one of the biggest lesbians in the village. Talk about hypocrisy!”

“Exactly,” agreed Doctor Shirley, “well at this club things are different. Provided you respect everybody else’s lifestyle, then it’s an excellent night out.”

“Well I’ll see what my brother says. He might be a bit afraid of being asked to baby-sit the girls. You know how tongues wag.”

“Oh the girls can come along. There’s a special supervised crá¨che for children, it’s right next-door and there is no intercourse between the crá¨che and the club. The whole set-up is very discreet and very private. Lots of alternative life-stylers have children so the families have to be catered for. Trannies, gays, sissies and lesbians are not necessarily paedophiles.”

Aunty Bev nodded. She knew she would love to go but first she would have to run it by her transvestite brother Peregrine. It would be very rude to have arranged to stay with her brother and his partner then spring such a visit to a club upon him. He would probably have made all sorts of special arrangements including dressing in male clothes to accommodate the concerns surrounding his nephew and niece. Peregrine, or Penny as she preferred to be known, hated dressing as a man. She ran her transvestite pub as the landlady and everybody recognised her as Penny. It was only on very rare occasions that she and her partner, the Viscount Weston dressed up as men to attend some function that involved them appearing to be normal. Penny did not know the exact circumstances surrounding her nephew Michael’s sexuality so for the children’s sakes she would be dressed as a man. Beverly could not wait to spring such a delightful surprise on her brother as presenting Michael as Michelle. Despite this, she was still obliged to accommodate any arrangements her brother Penny had made to put them up at her flat in Pimlico.

Chapter 7 covers Michelle's introduction to her 'Uncle Penny' and a whole spectrum of 'Alternative Life-styler's' in London.

---

The Sissy Farm 7

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.

Chapter 7

After completing the medical consultation with Doctor Shirley, Aunty Beverly gathered us, (her corseted nieces) and hailed a cab to take her to Pimlico. On the way she stopped at a pharmacists and returned with a large bag of medicines. Janice and I thought nothing of it; indeed, we didn’t even know what the word pharmacist meant.

Auntie Bev had never been to her brother’s flat so when the taxi put her off near a largish pub she was momentarily flummoxed. She stopped a lady who was emerging from the pub and as she asked for the address she realised the ‘lady’ was a transvestite. The transvestite looked at her and us corseted girls then gave a knowing smile as she replied.

“Why this is it love. The number is just there see, under the flower basket. Are you looking for anybody in particular?”

“Yes, a Mr Peregrine Halsey.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I don’t know anybody by that name. The landlady may be able to help you but I hope you realise what sort of pub this is.”

By now Aunty Beverly had realised that this was obviously a transvestite pub. She nodded knowingly and the transvestite smiled.

“Well if you ask Miss Penny, the landlady, she’ll put you right. Oh, I eehmm, - forgot to mention, Miss Penny is eehmm,’ dressed en’homme at the moment. You’ll recognise her in the yellow jacket and pink jeans.

She’s dressed down a bit, though I think her jacket is a bit flamboyant. I think she’s expecting fam, - oh my gosh! You look so like her! Are you her sis, - are you her sister?”

Aunty Beverly smiled and nodded as the transvestite did an immediate about turn, flung open the door and called excitedly across the bar.

“Penny! Penny! It’s your sister! She’s here!!

A very effeminate, curvaceous man with a permanent wave in his long hair looked up from the cash till and squealed with delight as everybody’s head turned.

“Oh Beverly! My sweetest, sweetest Beverly, where have you been all these years?”

The ‘man’ fiddled with the bar latch and lifted the section as he scrambled from behind the bar to give his sister a huge hug.

Then he noticed us two little girls standing demurely and respectfully behind our aunt. He gave another squeal as his eyes widened.

“Oh my! Oh gosh! Are these Susie’s children?”

Beverly nodded as she turned to present us but Penny anticipated her.

“But I thought they were sister and bro, -. Oh my. Oh my golly gosh!!” Then he whispered. “Is Mich, - is Mi, - and is the child like me?”

Aunty Beverly nodded, pleased that Uncle Peregrine had been quick-witted enough not to announce to the whole pub that I, dressed as a delightfully small-waisted young lady, was in fact a sissy boy. Although Aunty Bev reflected as she glanced around the pub that it would hardly have mattered. It was obvious to Aunty Bev, Janice and me that just about everybody in the pub was a transvestite or alternative life-styler of some sort and this was in the middle of a sunny afternoon in broadest daylight! Some trannies were even sitting outside on the pavement tables.

A relieved Aunty Beverly nodded and smiled as a tearful uncle Peregrine released his hug and turned to embrace us ‘nieces’. For long moments he wrapped his arms around our tiny waists and worked his fingers inquisitively as he savoured the boned corsets underneath our frilly frocks.

Like all transvestites, Uncle Peregrine often wore corsets and as he realised I, his nephew Michael was a transvestite just like him, he gave us both a desperate kiss to emphasise his affection as the tears began to flow. Uncle Peregrine stood up again and admonished his sister as he dabbed his eyes.

“You should have told me about Michael. Just look at me, all hommed up like a pox doctor’s clerk! I would have dressed down for you if I’d known.”

“You mean dressed up don’t you?” Countered Beverly with a wicked smile.

“Not at all Bev! I live en’femme all the time. I only dressed en’homme like this because I thought Michael would have been shocked.”

“Oh not at all,” countered Aunty Bev, “Michelle’s a thoroughgoing transvestite, full time. By the way; I like your blouse; sis. Is it OK to call you sis?”

“Oh heavens yes. Refer to me en femme all the time. I live virtually full time as a girl. Do you really like my blouse? It’s not very femme. I usually wear much prettier ensembles. I only bought it yesterday so as not to surprise Michelle. Do you really like it?”

“Yes darling,” replied Aunty Bev, “the blouse is beautiful but that awful jacket doesn’t do it justice. Why don’t you take it off? It’s such a warm day. Do you have a femme name?”

“Yes, of course I do! It’s Penny.”

Aunty Bev turned to us ‘girls and smiled.

“There you are girls. You can call your uncle Peregrine Aunty Penny.”

“Or you can call me Uncle Penny if you wish. This is a transvestite pub after all.”

“Which would you prefer u, - uncle or aunt?” I asked uncertainly.

“Oh call me Uncle Penny you little darlings. Let’s not cause confusion. Underneath these jeans I’m still a little boy.”

We smiled and nodded courteously as Uncle Penny smiled and immediately shed the loose fitting, oversized jacket. Aunty Beverly's eyes widened as we all noticed the well-filled bra underneath Uncle Penny’s flimsy blouse. I also noticed the jeans had no fly and a side zip. Auntie Bev’s eyes fastened onto Uncle Penny magnificent pair of breasts.

“Oh well done darling,” sighed Aunty Bev quietly. They’re nice, are they your own?”
Uncle Penny nodded as she smiled and proudly fingered her fulsome contours. Several eyes around the bar watched the interplay but nobody seemed unduly perturbed. Aunty Beverly quickly realised Uncle Penny’s breasts were not even an issue in this alternative lifestyle pub.

“Yes; they are nice aren’t they?” Added Uncle Penny as she glanced down at her womanly assets.
Aunty Beverly could not resist extending inquisitive fingers.

“Can I.”

“If you have to. I promise you they are real! Don’t you believe me?”

Aunty Beverly zeroed in on the prominent, thimble sized nubbins that protruded boldly against Uncle Penny’s flimsy blouse. Uncle Penny sagged then gasped wantonly and Aunty Bev was slightly startled by the hyper-erotic response.

“Oh my God! They are yours and so stiff. Why are you so aroused? What does James think?”

“You mean Jamie.” Replied Uncle Jenny. “He’s got a pair too.”

“So has one of you, - you know, gone all the way?”

“Gosh no, we’re transvestites, not transsexuals.”

“So where is James, - I mean Jamie?” Asked Aunty Bev.

“She’s in town checking out some new lines of cocktails at a trade show. She’s sorry she couldn’t be here but one of us had to attend, she’ll be back shortly. Come into the back room. Sandie here can look after the bar.”

The other transvestite barmaid smiled and nodded. The afternoon wasn’t busy and she was quietly polishing some newly washed glasses to fill her time. Her eyes followed Janice and me as we minced into the back room behind the bar. Uncle Penny closed the door and turned to give us another hug as she gushed effusively.

“Why you little beauties! And you’ve got such small waists. D’you like being corseted?”

“We nodded shyly as Uncle Penny motioned to two straight —backed chairs.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to slouch in the armchairs if you’re wearing long corsets. You’d better sit there. Have you eaten by the way?”

Aunty Bev told her no and Uncle Penny stepped into a little pantry. She emerged pushing a tea trolley full of cakes and fruit juices. Both Janice and my eyes widened hopefully and we turned beseechingly to Aunty Bev.

‘Would we be allowed to indulge in some cake?’ We both wondered.

Aunty Bev smiled and giggled.

“Of course you can girls. Eat up you’re at your auntie’s!”

This remark set both Aunty Bev and Uncle Penny into gales of laughter but it went straight over our heads. However we were too interested in eating some cake to wonder what was so funny.

Eagerly, Janice and I selected several delightful pastries and cakes then sat demurely and stiff-backed in the high straight chairs. By contrast, Aunty Bev and Uncle Penny settled on the long sofa and continued chatting ‘twenty to the dozen’ as they caught up on so much family history and gossip.

Eventually the subject of a night out with Doctor Shirley was broached and Aunty Bev was stunned to learn that the club they intended visiting was none other than Uncle Jenny and Aunty Jamie’s own club.

“You mean you two actually own it!” Squeaked Aunty Bev.

“The very same darling. It’s just a couple of doors down the street.”

“Oh my gosh! You’ve got your own little empire hereabouts haven’t you! Giggled Aunty Bev.

“Well, sort of,” replied Uncle Penny a bit self-consciously, “we also own the little breakfast café next door to the pub and a little boutique across the street.”

“Oh my gosh, did you hear that girls. Your uncle Penny is very rich!”

“And nobody to leave it to, unless of course, Jamie fathers a child.” Finished Uncle Penny as she rose and plied we girls with more cake.

“Don’t spoil them sis. Think of their waists.” Cautioned Aunty Bev.

“Oh fiddle sticks. You come to visit Jamie and me once every ten years and you deny them a bit of cake. It’s a celebration, especially Michelle’s development. This proves that transvestism runs in the family. D’you remember great uncle George? That’s almost one every generation. I’m just so happy.”

“In fact, it’s every boy in the family since great uncle George. You and Michelle are the only blood males.”

“Oh gosh. Why that’s just so sweet,” gushed Uncle Penny as she bent down to give me another hug.”

I responded by offering up my lips and Uncle Penny immediately accepted the invitation. Her soft lips and cheeks reminded me of mummy’s kisses and I savoured the affection.

Not to be denied, Janice also offered up her lips for a kiss and Uncle Penny was nothing if not fair. Janice got her kiss just as a car pulled into the back yard. Uncle Penny straightened up and smiled.

“Oh, lovely, Aunty Jamie’s here.”

Janice and I put our cakes aside and rose graciously from our chairs to watch the arriving car through the back window. As we watched, Uncle Penny stepped into the yard as a tall slender lady swung her legs out of the car and rose gracefully to meet Uncle Penny. She was wearing a beautifully cut two piece pink business suit and her curled up hair style made her look a perfect picture of femininity. The only feature to betray any hint of masculinity was her somewhat slender hips but as young girls we wouldn’t have noticed it. I only got to realise this about Aunty Jamie’s hips when I was older. Aunty Jamie had virtually no curves to her bottom. She was obviously not wearing a corset. Otherwise, she looked every inch a lady.

As Aunty Jamie stood up to greet her partner, Janice and I gazed through the window and smiled. The two trannies flung themselves into a passionate embrace and remained clinging tightly to each other for nearly a minute before Uncle Penny Finally declared.

“They’re here. My sister and nieces are here, and guess what!”
Auntie Jamie smiled before replying.

“Go on. You’re obviously bursting to tell me.”

“It’s my nephew, my Nephew Michael!

“Well! What about your nephew Michael?”

“Just come and see. You’ll be delighted!”

“Well help me carry these samples in.”

“Oh bugger the new samples. This is my family that’s come a’ visiting! I haven’t seen my sister for years and years and I’ve never, ever seen the children!!”

Uncle Penny’s obvious enthusiasm finally pierced Aunty Jamie’s sophisticated aura and she grinned eagerly.

“Oh! O.K., then. Let me meet them”

At these words, Janice and I wanted to dash outside and throw ourselves into Auntie Jamie’s embrace but our tight corsets proscribed such tomboyish enthusiasm.

Instead we minced eagerly forward into the yard then stopped and held out our arms eagerly like toddlers expecting to be scooped up by a familiar adult. Auntie Jamie stared at us then squealed with delight as she realised that one of Jenny’s nephews was in fact cross-dressed as a niece. The problem was she couldn’t decide which one of us was the sissy.
She hesitated for a moment with a perplexed gape then the smile broadened and she did a perfect bunny-girl bob and reached out to embrace us both with equal enthusiasm. We resumed mincing eagerly forward and almost stumbled into her outstretched arms.

”Ooof!” She gasped as our adolescent weights fell into her arms.

Fortunately Both Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie had lived the last dozen or so years totally en’femme and, despite wearing fashionable heels, Auntie Jamie easily kept her poise and balance as she saved us from tumbling over completely. Corsets could make one clumsy at times if one lost one’s balance. As she hugged us around the waists, we also felt her knowledgeable fingers confirming her suspicions.

“I thought so. You two are corseted, aren’t you?” She whispered affectionately.

We nodded and Auntie Jamie let out a sigh of delight as she accepted our enthusiastic kisses before standing up again and taking us by the hands to meet Aunty Bev who stood in the back doorway. Auntie Jamie motioned us inside.

“So Sister in law,” charged Auntie Jamie in affectionate mock accusation, “why didn’t you tell your bro that his only male relative was just like him?

Aunty Bev smiled as she confessed quite openly.

“I only found out when the pair of them came to live with me.” Replied Aunty Bev. “I discovered she was wearing panties and bras at night.”

“Oh! I suppose that’s as good a reason as any. Anyway it’s fabulous to see you. Are you staying long?”

“Well, I hadn’t anticipated doing so. We had a doctor’s appointment this morning, mainly about Michelle, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. It’s about time we got together again, after all Uncle Penny’s my last adult blood relative.”

“Uncle Penny?” Giggled Auntie Jamie. “That’s a strange title. Who decided to call her that?”

“We call her that.” I declared. “Janice and I decided.”

At this juncture, Uncle Penny followed us from the yard with some of the sample cocktail cases. She plonked them on the table and announced eagerly.

“My sister Beverly is coming to the club tonight.”

Auntie Jamie’s eyebrows arched slightly as she glanced at we two ‘nieces’ then replied to Aunty Bev.

“Oh that’s lovely. You know that it’s an, (she cleared her throat nervously,) ‘ahem’, alternative lifestyle’ club don’t you?

Members only, though of course you’d naturally be welcome as the owner’s blood relatives”

“Oh yes replied our Aunty Bev. Doctor Shirley Williams invited me as a guest. Is it right you’ve got some sort of crá¨che arrangements?”

“Well yes, actually. These two little poppets would be welcome to stay there.”

“Oh? What, here in the pub?”

“Yes. There’s a largish function room on the other side of the bar. It used to be a small grocer’s shop but we bought it and turned the back warehouse into an adjoining area connecting the club to the pub. We use it for all sorts of functions, but on certain family nights at the club, it serves as a crá¨che. The members bring put-you-up beds and cots where the children meet and sleep. It’s as much fun for the kids as their parents for it’s like a regular children’s summer camp. In fact they’ll start arriving in a couple of hours. The club opens at seven and it’s alcohol free until nine so the children mix with their parents and friends before the adult entertainment starts. Lot’s of the children are well aware that their parents are alternative life-stylers. There are all sorts but they’re mostly a very genteel crowd. We’re quite selective.”

The idea that a bunch or trannies, gays and other sexually alternative people could be considered genteel amused Aunty Bev slightly. She turned towards Janice and me as her smile broadened.

“Well, would you two like to visit the club tonight?”

We both smiled eagerly as we twitched inside our corsets and minced forward to give Aunty Bev a huge hug. Uncle Penny studied our mincing sissified gait and smiled affectionately.

“There are lots of activities for the children and many of them like dancing. Will they be allowed to dance with the other children until nine?”

Aunty Bev nodded so Uncle Penny explained.

“I’ve got some shorter corsets if you want. Dancing the way the children jump around might be difficult in those corsets. They’re thigh length aren’t they?”

Uncle Penny knew perfectly well that our corsets came down to about six inches above out knees. When she had hugged us in the bar she had surreptitiously felt under our frilly frocks. Aunty Bev nodded uncertainly. I could see that she wasn’t particularly keen to allow us such unsissylike freedom but eventually she relented as Uncle Penny reassured her.

“Don’t worry, the corsets I have will keep their waists extra slim. Just you come and see.”

Auntie Jamie nodded affirmation and resumed bringing in the remaining sample cases as we minced demurely up the stairs after Uncle Penny and Auntie Bev. By the time I had worked slowly up two flights of stairs. The tight corset had left me quite breathless and my heart fluttered as I tried to recover my wind with short, lady-like little breaths in my upper chest. Uncle Penny watched me with fascination and smiled wistfully as she spoke to me.

“Gosh, I wish your grand-mama had corseted me like you when I was a little boy.”

I smiled sympathetically as Uncle Penny gently took my hand and led me to one of a score of bedrooms that led off a series of corridors. Aunty Bev remarked with surprise.

“Gosh! This place is huge!”

Uncle Penny smiled as she explained.

“It used to be an old coaching inn during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It became a boarding house during the early nineteenth century and before we took it over it had been a high-class brothel for over one hundred and seventy years.
In fact, as you know, we’re not far from Westminster here in Pimlico and this place was much frequented by members of parliament. It’s led a pretty chequered life. The rooms are huge and each one will easily house a family. This old place could tell a few tales believe me.”

So saying, Uncle Penny took her key-chain and cranked a huge steel key in the door. The tumblers clunked heavily and the door creaked as she pushed quite hard to open it. She smiled as she explained further about the doors.

“Those old MP’s knew a thing or two about security. Even if the police raided they’d take a few minutes to smash one of these down. Time enough for some old political hypocrite and his whores to make themselves respectable. I hasten to add that the police don’t raid today. We don’t do drugs and stuff here. Everything is technically legal. The pub is a registered hotel. These doors are from the old Victorian days. They’re so stout and heavy that they were passed as fire doors after some modern modifications with the intumescent strips and stuff. The rest of the stuff’s pretty original. It was such a shame to waste it.

Talking of original, would you believe we found some old original Georgian sex machines? We discovered them behind a partition in the attic when the roof was being refurbished and we debated whether to gift them to the Victoria and Albert museum. Would you believe they actually accepted some of them for they must have some spectacular provenance. After all, who knows what famous, pervy, old Victorian prime ministers might have indulged themselves upon them? The originals are now mentioned in our tourist brochure. It raised quite a laugh around here when we discovered them. The remaining originals, that are the ones the museum
didn’t want, are on display in a room in the other wing though they are now too frail. A hundred years in a damp attic doesn’t do the wood much good. A friend of Jamie’s made some modern stainless steel copies and they are available to use in the sex toys room in the club.”

“But why stainless steel? That’s prohibitively expensive!”

Uncle Penny grinned and wagged his head.

“You won’t believe this sis, the council inspectors had to check the place out for health and safety. They had no technical specifications for ‘Health and Safety’ for Georgian sex machines so the only thing the inspector could do was demand that they be made of surgical quality stainless steel for strength and so that they can be safely sterilised to prevent spreading disease.

Talk about total lunacy!! It even raised howls of laughter in city hall. Several councillors actually came to see what all the hooting and laughter was about. They went away splitting their sides with laughter. Every new acolyte, H&S inspector gets dragged down here as part of the inauguration circuit. Nevertheless, we can and do regularly sterilise the kit in a large bath of disinfectant. The more intimate parts are sterilised after every application. All part of the service ma-am.”

Aunty Bev gasped and giggled at this news and asked if she could see them later. Uncle Penny smiled and nodded as she added.

“Not the girls though. They’re too young. That’s the law I’m afraid.”

“Ah! That’s not fair! Why can’t we see them?” We chorused.”

“Never mind girls,” consoled Aunty Bev, “it’ll be something to look forward to when you’re older.”

Janice started to sulk and flung herself onto one of the beds whilst I stood prissily disappointed. Auntie Bev wagged her head with disapproval and pressed her finger to her nose as a warning to Janice. Janice recognised the threat and struggled to sit upright on the bed. Unfortunately her corset restricted her mobility and she was forced to wriggle like a seal to the edge of the bed and finally arrange herself so that she could flip her knees and finally sit upright. It was a cursory lesson to us both that we could not flounce about in a hissy fit whilst our corsets so constrained our mobility.
Uncle Penny recognised our reduced agility and grinned condescendingly as she helped Janice to her feet. Once on her feet again, Janice recovered her composure and resumed her demure posture. Uncle Penny gave her a patronising kiss on her forehead then invited her and me to attend to our toilet whilst she chatted with Auntie Bev.

I realised I wanted a wee-wee and I twitched uncomfortably as I informed Janice.

“So do I, now you mention it. Quick, can you unlace me?”

We both realised that we had not been to the loo since visiting Doctor Shirley and it was now early evening. Suddenly we were feverishly trying to undress until we reached the laces of our corsets.

“Oooh Hurry Michelle. I’m bursting!” Squeaked Janice.

“Well so am I.” I replied as I finally managed to release Janice from the constraints of the corset.

“I can’t wait!” She cried as she dashed to the loo.

“No. Unlace me first!” I wailed as I minced after her towards the bathroom.

I found her sighing with relief with her bloomers around her knees and the prolonged splash of water betraying her urgency.

“Dammit Jan!” I pleaded. “Unlace me, I’m going to wet myself!”

Finally, Janice realised I was every bit as desperate as her and she reached out as I turned my back to her. I fidgeted and pranced as I squeezed my legs together and she scolded me.

“Stand still silly! How do you expect me to undo the knot?”

With my bladder now about to explode, I strained to stand still but my body betrayed me. Even as my corset finally came loose my pee-pee released a stream of shame into my bloomers.

“Oh you stupid sissy!” Scolded Janice. “Now look at the mess!”

I stood looking in disgust at the shameful pool of urine on the floor then I turned on Janice.

“You should have let me go first!” I whimpered.

“But I was desperate!” She squealed.

“So was I! Look!”

We both studied the incriminating puddle and grimaced.

“We’d better clean it up.” Declared Janice.

On this we both agreed and when we had finally relieved ourselves we set to cleaning up the mess. I was glad at least that my sister had the decency to help in the cleaning. Finally, we washed my bloomers and stockings then stepped into the shower. Fortunately we had come prepared with several changes of clothes thus when Auntie Bev returned from a tour of the Georgian and Victorian sex machines she found us partially dressed again, waiting all prim and proper for her to give the final tug to our corset laces. To further hide evidence of my mishap, Janice had also rinsed her bloomers and stockings through so it looked as thought we had both rinsed our undies as a matter of ordinary feminine hygiene.

As we stood in our underwear, Aunty Bev smiled and turned to Uncle Penny.

“Just look at them, aren’t they a delectable pair of pretty girls?”

Uncle Penny smiled sweetly and replied.

“Oh yes! Why they’re a perfect pair. If I wasn’t gay I’d find them quite delightful.”

“Would you like to lace them up in those corsets you brought Sis?” Asked Aunty Bev.

“Oh wouldn’t I just. Corsets are always a delight.”

Uncle Penny stepped forward and presented us the slightly longer corsets.

“I thought you said they were shorter ones.” I complained.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Bev thinks you shouldn’t be given too much freedom when other children are around. She decided you must use the longer ones.” Declared Uncle Penny.

“But these are almost as long as our sleeping corsets,” complained Janice as she held it up against her body. Reluctantly, we stepped into them and Uncle Penny deftly tugged Janice’s laces. Janice gave a gasp of surprise.

“Ooo-off. That’s too tight.”

Uncle Penny slackened them slightly and Janice gave a sigh of relief as Auntie Bev nodded with satisfaction.

“I’m glad you understand, young girls mustn’t be corseted too tightly. It damages their child bearing capacity.”

“But as for little sissies, -“ finished Uncle Penny as she took my corset laces in hand, “well, they can be thoroughly corseted.” What size waist is she now?”

“We’ve agreed that fourteen is suitable for her age. If she grows to those proportions, she’ll have a delightfully small sissy
waist when she’s older.”

Uncle Penny quickly reduced my waist then produced a tape measure and measured it. She studied it and remarked to Auntie Bev.

“That’s it, fourteen; she’ll go smaller you know. This corset is cut a little differently. There’s still some space before the lace holes meet.”

“No! I’m happy with fourteen.” Declared Auntie Bev Just look at her waist, it’s perfectly delightful”
Uncle Penny placed her hand span around my waist and easily lifted me like some ballerina. I was surprised that my ribs did not hurt. The strong boning of the corset served to dissipate my weight and prevent any undue pressure to my lower ribs. I squeaked nervously as Uncle Penny hoisted me above her head. I found I was forced to adopt whatever angle she chose to hold me, so stiff and rigid was the steel boning of my corset. I was a virtual prisoner and wriggled my legs uselessly at the knees as I kicked feebly. I was trapped like an Edwardian Lady in a hobble skirt. Uncle Penny grinned and deftly lowered me to the floor again as she selected one of the dresses Janice and I had hung in the wardrobe.

“Which colour d’you want darling, pink perhaps?”

I would have loved to wear the beautiful pink concoction of lacy frills and bows but it was Janice's dress. As a sissy I knew mine was the pale green one. Reluctantly I pointed to the green one. Uncle Penny frowned slightly.

“Oh dear, I thought you would have chosen the pink one. You are a sissy aren’t you? Promise me you are a sissy!” She begged hopefully.

I nodded as I smiled and explained ruefully.

“The dresses are part of our school uniform. Only real girls wear the pink ones. Naughty reluctant sissies have to wear blue ones while contented, good little sissies wear the green.”

Uncle Penny poo-hooed my remark.

“Oh fiddle! You’re at your auntie’s now. You can wear what you like. I would just love to see you in the pink one.”

“It’s Janice's,” I protested nervously. “You’ll have to ask her.”

Uncle Penny simply gave Janice a glance which said, ‘he’s going to borrow your dress, OK?’ Janice made to say no, but thought better of it. Instead, she acceded meekly.

Having more or less forced permission out of Janice, Uncle Penny wasted no time in buttoning me up in the frothy pink ‘wedding cake’ of a dress. As I stood primly in the mirror admiring the dress as it was slowly buttoned up, I could not resist making a delightful frou-frou. Then I caught Janice's eye in the mirror and realised she was a bit upset. After all I was now wearing her very favourite frock. I wanted to apologise but it was beyond my power. Uncle Penny had made me wear it. Janice was then made to wear my green frock and although it was every bit as frilly and lacy with lots of frothy lacy petticoats, it was still not her dress. Fortunately, Uncle Penny explained as he buttoned us both and fussed with the huge bows at our backs.

“I’m going to buy you each a beautiful pink dress with masses of frills and lace so every time you stop over you’ll look like the belles of the ball. Would you like that?”

Our eyes widened contentedly and we nodded eagerly. Then Uncle Penny turned to her sister.

“Bev, would you like to stay here in London with us for a few weeks, before school starts?” She asked.
Aunty Bev’s eyes widened eagerly and she turned to us ‘girls’.

“Would you two darlings like that?”

We both twittered eagerly before sighing a resounding yes. Uncle Penny gave the huge bows on our dresses a final adjustment then she explained.

“Once Auntie Jamie learned you were going to Mistress Janet’s academy, he told me of an outfitters in London that also sells those uniforms. I am taking you there tomorrow and I’ll buy you both some extra dresses.”

Auntie Bev opened her lips to protest but Uncle Penny hushed her.

“It’s on me darling. It’s the least I can do for my darling little nieces.”

Auntie Bev shrugged her shoulders while our smiled broadened. We were to have more dresses. With this arrangement confirmed, we went down to take dinner. Auntie Jamie was an excellent cook but the meal was somewhat sparse. No cakes and chocolates this time, just a fresh salad and some fruit juice.

“You know what they say darlings. Breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and sup like a pauper.”

Janice and I eyed the meagre portions and resolved ourselves to developing very small waists. Nobody would ever grow fat on such a dinner. With the meal finished, preparations were made by the adults to go to the club while we were left to our own devices. We minced off to try and sneak a peek into the room with the sex machines but to our chagrin, it was firmly locked. Instead, we explored the rest of the pub and occupied ourselves for a couple of hours. We even asked if we could go outside and Auntie Bev warned us not to leave the street. Even though it was a warm summer’s evening and broad daylight, one could never be certain who was about in London. Having been warned of the dangers to pretty little sissies who would not be able to run or struggle because of their corsets, we resolved to remain near the front of the pub.

There we remained under the watchful gaze of many customers of the pub who were enjoying the pavement culture facilitated by the warm evening sun.

We were quite safe by now for everybody in the pub knew that the two delightfully frocked and petticoated little ‘girls’ were Penny’s nieces.

Whilst one or perhaps two pairs of the many eyes that watched us might occasionally have had a predatory interest we were well protected by the many more eyes that served as policemen, even though those same eyes belonged to trannies, gays and lesbians. Eventually Auntie Bev called us in and we minced demurely passed the pavement tables back into the pub. I have to admit, both Janice and I savoured the dozens of eyes that followed us into the pub. Inside, Uncle Penny explained.

“Auntie Jamie and Auntie Bev will shortly be opening up the club next door. I’ll be running the pub until it closes and I decamp to the club. You can stay here with me or go and play with the other children in the crá¨che.”

“We had seen the crá¨che earlier. The old grocery warehouse had been converted into a large roomy area with toys and swings and slides. There were even some computers for the older children so Janice and I elected to go to the crá¨che. It also had a large garden area. Uncle Penny introduced us to Margaret and Francine who ran the crá¨che. Francine explained the rules.

“No bullying, no violent games near the little children. There’s a garden out the back with enough room for ball games, though I don’t think you’ll be playing ball games in those dresses. By the way, are you corseted?”

We nodded submissively and Francine wagged her head slightly.

“Very well then. If you get breathless or excited, just take a rest on those chairs until you recover. If one of you gets the vapours, the other one must tell us, OK? We tend to concentrate on supervising the smaller children but if the older children break the rules, they are not allowed back. Now, nobody else has arrived yet so what d’you want to do?”

Janice and I chose to take a tennis ball and play catch. It was just about the most active thing we could do what with our corsets constraining our mobility. We soon found that it was more difficult than it looked to catch a ball when your mobility and balance was restricted. If we dropped the ball it was the Devil’s own job to pick it up again for bending in our corsets was almost impossible.

We spent more time learning how to do a ‘bunny-girl bob’ with a stiff back as we learned the strictures of corseted life. Eventually another group of children appeared in the garden. They were about our age that is between seven and eleven. On seeing two new little ‘girls’ playing ball they ran over and introduced themselves.

After exchanging names and stuff they invited us to play with them. Both Janice and I would have dearly loved to join them but their game of Rounders, which is an English version of Baseball, proved to be a bit too active for us. We were hopelessly restricted in our corsets and were finally forced to drop out. We could neither hit the ball hard nor run quickly to the bases.
Despite being a good ball player, I found it was almost impossible to swing hard at the ball and totally impossible to sprint to the bases. After only a couple of silly mincing steps, I stumbled and fell gasping for breath in effeminate little pants. I was immediately struck out and the amused, condescending smiles of the other children said it all. I was a corseted sissy, and corseted sissies did not play rough active games with other children.

Janice fared just as badly and we were soon relegated to resuming our gentle game of ‘catch’ in a quieter part of the garden.
Fortunately another group of children appeared and Janice and I exchanged relieved glances. They were of assorted ages but they were all obviously slightly older than us and dressed similarly to us. In fact they were dressed identically to us and when they recognised this they came over immediately.

Ever the ‘older brother’ I stepped in front of my ‘little sister’ and prepared for whatever was to come. I need not have worried. The oldest, or at least the tallest girl smiled invitingly.

“Oh hello. You’re new aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I replied in as soft and uncombative manner as I could.

“My name’s Victoria,” she added as she extended a graceful slender hand and studied my frilly dress. “What’s yours?”

“Michelle, and this is Janice, my sister.”

“Oh how delightful,” she continued as she compared our dresses and frou-froued her own.” “I see we are wearing the same dresses, are you pupils at Mistress Janet’s? I’ve never met you.”

“We will be in September, we’ve only just started.” Janice replied.

“Oh how sweet.” Replied Victoria as she studied Janice's green dress. “It’s perfectly delightful to meet a new girl. Especially a voluntary sissy.”

“I’m not the sissy, “ giggled Janice defensively, “Michelle is the sissy.

“Oh golly.” Giggled Victoria. “Well don’t let Mistress Janet find out that you’ve swapped dresses. You’ll get into an awful row.”

“We had no choice,” I added in my defence, “my Uncle Penny made us swap. She prefers pink.”

“Uncle Penny? Do you mean Miss Penny?” Victoria Blinked. “Miss Penny who runs the pub and the club?”

I nodded apologetically but Victoria simply smiled and shrugged it off.

“Oh isn’t that exquisite girls, Miss Michelle here is Miss Penny’s niece.” She turned to Janice and I as she smiled again.

“Gosh. You’re a lucky pair of children. Would you like to join us?”

We nodded and Victoria introduced her companions. Apart from her and one other girl, the others were all sissies. All of them, girls and sissies alike, had large breasts and tiny waists. Some sissies wore green dresses whilst others wore the blue.

There were at least a dozen all told so it was impossible to remember names. However they happily accepted us into their circles and then introduced us to several passive games that involved gentle activity without causing too much distress.

One was similar to tag but involved less chasing and running. I would liken it to netball compared to basketball. It was simple and involved throwing a ball to touch another. You could run, (or more correctly mince about,) and move while you didn’t have the ball, but you had to remain within the boundaries of the court that was marked out informally by some fruit trees. The ball holder had to remain still while she tried to hit the others with the ball and if she missed she had to collect the ball and stand where the ball had lain or return to the nearest part of the play area then try and hit another.

Bearing in mind that we were all heavily corseted, it was difficult to move quickly and avoid the ball so everybody ended up being ‘it’.

Eventually as darkness fell, we were all quite flushed with the game and we minced in to join the smaller children. The other children who had been playing Rounders also joined us and I was quite surprised that nobody was teased or bullied.

I asked Victoria about this and she gave me her opinion.

“I suppose it’s because everybody’s parents are alternative lifestylers so the children learn to be tolerant and understanding. In fact Michelle, if you think about it, we at Mistress Janet’s are better off than some of the other children. Take Anthony for example, the boy over there on the computer.” Victoria motioned to Anthony and he collected some fruit juices as he came over. Victoria explained as he joined us.

“Hi Tony, this is Michelle, she’s a transvestite sissy.”

Tony hardly blinked as he grabbed a chair and settled beside us. I was relieved that transvestism hardly raised an eyebrow amongst these children and accepted the proffered glass of juice. Victoria explained further.

“Tony’s got two mummies who are lesbians. He’s a turkey baster child and he gets teased unmercifully at his ordinary school. This is the only place where he can relax isn’t it Tony?”

Tony nodded and pulled a wry smile as he swigged his juice.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. It gets tedious. If they cant find some other poor bugger to tease or bully, the lesbo’s turkey-baster kid defaults to target number one. Still, I can handle myself so it’s not so bad. Tranny kids like you can be dead lucky if they’re going to Victoria’s school. In my school gays and stuff get hounded unmercifully. If you’re a sissy, shouldn’t you be in a blue or green or green dress?”

Obviously, Tony knew all about Mistress Janet’s and the various dress codes even though he was a ‘normal’ kid who apparently did not even attend Mistress Janet’s. For me it was a real; eye opener.

We three ended up chatting for hours until the younger children started preparing for bed.

Later, in the small hours, various parents came to collect their children and I had a chance to meet Victoria and Tony’s parents. Victoria’s father was obviously a sissy and both parents were obviously into bondage and rubber. I already knew Tony’s parents were two lesbian ladies.

As other parents arrived to collect their children I reflected that Uncle Penny’s club certainly catered well for all tastes. Finally, Auntie Bev and Uncle Penny arrived to collect Janice and me whilst Auntie Jamie locked up the pub. It was five o’clock in the morning before Janice and I were finally prepared for bed and, despite all the fuss of being changed into our night-corsets we were asleep the moment our heads hit the pillow.

The sun was already at high noon before Janice stirred and realised our corsets were still connected. Gently she stroked my neck and whispered.

“Come on, get up, I want to do a wee-wee.”

As I slowly came to, Janice had already wriggled to the side of the bed and was attempting to sit up. She turned to me again and tickled under my arm.

“Come on lazy bones. I can’t sit up unless you help me then I’ll have to help you. I’ll wet myself if I don’t go to the loo soon.”

I giggled as she tickled me and wriggled like a helpless grub cocooned in my night corset.

“Stoppit! That tickles!” I squealed.

“Well get up!” She admonished me. “I can’t go unless you come with me. Our corsets are still locked together.”

Reluctantly I wriggled closed to her and extended my arms so that Janice could lever herself upright. The night corsets really were stiff and it was impossible to bend enough to sit up unaided. Cautiously Janice felt for the floor with her stockinged feet then finally pushed against my extended arms and tilted herself to a standing position. Then she held out her arms to me and I cautiously garnished enough purchase to pull myself out of bed and to a standing position with out unbalancing Janice. When we were finally both stood, we minced carefully towards Auntie Bev’s bedroom taking care not to trip each other up. The hems of our long knee-length sleeping corsets pulled us close together and our hips pressed against each other as we minced urgently towards Auntie Bev’s bedroom door. The corsets were so close together that we could not even present our backs to each other so that we could undo the laces. Janice knocked rapidly on Auntie Bev’s door and called beseechingly.

“Auntie Bev! Can you disconnect us please?”

There was a brief murmur from behind the adjoining door and finally, Auntie Bev emerged. Janice explained the predicament and Auntie Bev nodded knowingly.

“You drank too much pop last night didn’t you?”

Janice nodded her silent confession as Auntie Bev wagged her head condescendingly.

“Well let that be a lesson to you. Young ladies and sissies should always drink in moderation whether it’s soft drinks, fruit
juice, coffee, tea or alcohol. You indulged yourself in the fruit juices because it was free didn’t you?”
Janice nodded again and squirmed uncomfortably as her bladder made more demands. Auntie Janice grinned as she produced the all-important little key and bent down to unlock the connecting the hems of our corsets. She looked up at me as the little padlock fell open.

“Do you want to go as well?”

“Well. Yes Auntie Bev,” I replied as I watched Janice’s butt wiggling as she tried to run to the loo as fast as her corset would allow, “but not as desperately as Janice. I learned my lesson last night.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What happened?”

I was about to explain but Janice's urgent squeal commanded me to help her.

“Are you going to be all day?” She cried. “Come and untie my laces!”
Knowing exactly how it felt to end up wetting one’s bloomers, I minced quickly after Janice and released her from her corset. She just managed to plonk her butt down on the pan and sighed with thankful relief as her urine spurted noisily into the pan. As she savoured her relief, I turned my back to her and she recognised my unspoken request to untie my corset.

“We’re going to have to always sleep together if Auntie Bev makes us always wear these corsets.” Observed Janice.

I said nothing for truth to tell, I was already beginning to enjoy the constraints imposed by my new underwear. I suppose it was a direct consequence of my natural transvestite predisposition.

I realised however, that Janice's words were certainly true. When dressed, we would always need assistance in our personal toilette.

‘Well, I surmised. Girls always seemed to go to the loo in groups so I should get used to the idea.’

Once we had relieved ourselves, we showered and pranced naked into our bedroom where Auntie Bev had laid out our ensembles. Janice and I held up the all-in-one, ankle-length pantalets and exchanged glances.

“This means long dresses,” observed Janice, “I wonder why we’ll be wearing long dresses.”

“I dunno’,” I replied as I clipped my suspender belt and slid my feet into the deliciously silky stockings, “maybe she’s taking us somewhere special.”

Janice followed suit then we stepped into the all-in-one pantalets and pushed our arms through the shoulder straps as we studied ourselves in the mirror.

This time we were both in identical pink matching undies and we posed as we studied our appearances.

“They feel nice,” I grinned as I savoured the silky embrace all over my body.

“They’ll be hot if it gets warm.” Frowned Janice.

I looked out of the window and sighed with relief. It was overcast so the day would be cool. As I turned away from the window, Auntie Bev entered.

“Ah good. I’m glad to see you like them. You look really pretty. Now, on with your corsets.”

We knew not to argue so we helped each other into the pink satin corsets that Auntie Bev had laid out on the bed then she laced us up to the regulation tension. Following the corsets, she slipped two hooped and multi-layered petticoats around our waists and tied off the tapes behind our backs. Finally she draped some delightful pink and white creations over our corsets and petticoats and buttoned them up the back. We were surprised to see that the dresses came only half way down our calves and everybody would be able to see the frilly bottoms of our ankle length pantalets peeping out from under the multiple frilly layers of our petticoats. Secretly, I loved my ensemble and I turned to Janice with a questioning glance.

She grinned back and made a delightful frou-frou as we swished the skirts of or frocks and they swayed invitingly as the hoops flexed and swung about our waists.

We were both imprisoned in a delightful concoction of silk, nylon, lacy frills and rustling organza.

“Is there some sort of special occasion?” Asked Janice curiously.

“Yes petals,” replied Auntie Bev, “Uncle Penny bought these for you while you were sleeping this morning. “They’re for special occasions so it’ll be a nice treat for her to take you out for the day dressed like two sweet little girls. It was always Uncle Penny’s most secret wish as a child to be able to wear something like this but your grandparents never allowed her.

I’m sure you’ll have a delightful day. The special occasion is Victoria’s little sissy brother’s fourteenth birthday today and you have been invited.”

“Is that Jemima?” Giggled Janice.

“The very same,” Smiled Auntie Bev, “she’s only half way through her time at Mistress Janet’s.”

“She’s a blue sissy!” I added.

“Yes. She was a very naughty boy so they sent her to Mistress Janet’s and that’s what happens.”

“She’s got a nice figure.” I added, remembering her very slender corseted waist and well rounded breasts.

“Exactly, and those breasts are all hers.

‘Lucky Jemima’, I reflected silently whilst secretly hoping I could grow nice boobies one day. Little did I know.

Finally we spent a solid hour combing Janice's hair and practicing makeup until Uncle Penny knocked softly and Auntie Bev invited her in. She entered and made a big to-do about our ensembles before approaching me just as I was fitting my wig. She ran her fingers through my wig and smiled.

“It’ll be lovely when your own hair grows out! You can do so much more when it’s your own hair!” Gushed Uncle Penny as she deftly adjusted my wig and finally announced us ready to go.

“Just one final thing,” announced Auntie Bev as she delved into the packet she had purchased at the pharmacists the previous day. “You haven’t had your vitamin tablets.”

She produced two largish pills and issued one to each of us as she exchanged a knowing smile with Uncle Penny.

“They’re different colours,” observed Janice as she held up her white pill.”

“Yes,” agreed Auntie Bev, “the white ones are for you because girls need different vitamins from sissies, “the pink pills are for sissies that’s why Michelle has pink.”

We thought nothing of it and popped the pills into our mouths. They were sugar coated and went down quickly as we relished the tasty treat. Uncle Penny and Auntie Bev smiled indulgently as we prepared to leave.

As we minced downstairs our dresses swayed and bounced causing every head to turn and smile benignly as we crossed the public bar. Outside, we struggled to make a decorous entrance into Uncle Penny’s car but sitting down turned out to be an uproarious affair. As we struggled to enter the car, our corsets made it impossible to bend freely and catch the hems of our skirts. In the tight confines of the car, we were forced to just flop back as the hoops popped up in front of us and showed everybody the ruffled layers of our petticoats and our frilly, lacy pantalets. Poor Janice and I could not even see ahead as our skirts ballooned up in front of us giving everybody a delightful display. Eventually we managed to re-arrange our skirts into a more modest position but it still required us to rest our hands firmly on our thighs to hold down the springy hoops and layers of petticoats.

Finally, Auntie Bev sat in the passenger seat as Uncle Penny, wearing a tight fitting, ivory two-piece suite, slipped modestly into the driver’s seat and chauffeured us out to the suburbs.

 
 

---

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

As Uncle Penny picked her way through the late afternoon London traffic, Janice and I sat in the back of the air-conditioned car and kept smiling at each other and releasing the hems of our dresses. This caused the hooped petticoats to spring up making the massed layers of frothy lace and organza flip up and expose our frilly pantalets. It felt jut so delightful to savour the sudden waft of air as the springy hoops flipped up to suck cool air under our petticoats. We two ‘sisters’ were so engrossed in our game that we failed to notice heads turning as hungry eyes noticed our frilly pantalets, silky stockings and pink ‘Mary Jane’ shoes. The sight of two delicious morsels sitting in the back of a large family saloon car must have titillated many imaginations that afternoon. We ‘girls’ however were too young and inexperienced to realise.

Auntie Bev however, knew exactly what was going through those minds. Fortunately, she also knew we were safe whilst inside the car and in her company. Had we been alone and out on the street or mincing in the park, such was the effeminacy of our ensembles we would have been a target for every twisted mind in the city. Auntie Bev was even unsure of Uncle Penny’s interests for she noticed her sissy brother constantly glancing back at us in the driving mirror and smiling indulgently. She needn’t have worried though, in my adult life, Uncle Penny was to prove to be one of my closest and dearest friends. Uncle Penny was an effeminate transvestite homosexual consequently he never showed any licentious interest in his only ‘nieces’.

When we arrived at Victoria’s large family home in Richmond, Uncle Penny renewed the introductions while Auntie Bev helped us decamp from the car in a more decorous and demure manner. It required quite a bit of effort to manoeuvre ourselves so that our hooped petticoats didn’t flip up and expose our lacy underwear.

This time however, Auntie Bev warned us and this sagacity was to be our first real lesson in the dangers of an innocent exposure of lacy intimates being misinterpreted as some sort of flirtatious invitation.

As we minced into the house, Victoria and her mummy made us welcome then they introduced us to Victoria’s sissy daddy who was setting out the dining table. He was wearing a lovely frilly blouse with a tailored plum coloured skirt and a pretty little cocktail apron to protect his ensemble. He wore seamed stockings for I could distinctly see the telltale lumps of his suspender clips under his tight-fitting pencil skirt. His four inch heels matched his skirt and his blond hair was coiffured up into a tight roll with a pretty plum coloured bow to set off the whole ensemble.

We had to step through the dining room French doors to enter the garden and he took the opportunity to do a bunny bob as he bent down and kissed us both affectionately on the cheeks. I was surprised to feel the slightest rub of stubble on his chin but it was well disguised under his makeup. Victoria’s dad was obviously a man but one would never have realised it by looking at him. He passed remarkably well.

In the garden we were introduced to Victoria’s sissy brother Jemima and her friend Angelica. Both ‘girls’ were wearing identical blue dresses and it was obvious that they were very upset about something. Their eyes were red rimmed with tears and their cheeks had bright red spots. They were both clenching their fists and stamping their feet in a most prissy and petulant manner. On being introduced to Janice and me, Jemima responded politely before resuming her tiff with Angelica.
Victoria seemed more amused than annoyed with her younger sissy brother and she motioned to another older girl who then ushered the fractious pair away.

Janice and I were slightly puzzled by Jemima’s truculence, for after all, this was her birthday and surely, every girl enjoyed her birthday. Victoria helped us to sit in a large garden, swinging seat and explained as the bickering sissies were led into the house and up into the bedroom.

“That is behaviour typical of a sissy.” Declared Victoria.

“What’s upset them?” Asked Janice.

“They’re having a hissy fit.” Explained Victoria.

“A Hissy Fit. What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh when two of Mistress Janet’s sissies discover that they are wearing identical outfits, they get upset. They can’t help it. They are programmed to be that way at Mistress Janet’s academy. If they see another sissy wearing the same clothes as themselves it sends them into a frightful tantrum. The problem is that being sissies, they find it impossible to release their anger by physical aggression that is the normal release mechanism for males. Consequently they become extremely emotional and try to find other behavioural mechanisms to release their anger. For example, crying, squealing, stamping their foot, sucking their thumb, wetting themselves, clenching their fists, prancing around and eventually having an attack of the vapours.
It’s called a ‘hissy fit’ and it’s extremely stressful for the sissy because there is no proper emotional outlet for their frustrated distress. Indeed, their petulant antics appear hysterically funny to ordinary individuals once they realised the sissy cannot get violent. Miss Janet’s sissies you see; are completely unable to throw a punch or indeed even scratch or pull hair. A properly programmed sissy cannot even win in a fight against the timidest girl. Her initial and only reaction will be to cower and squeal with terror at the slightest threat from a stranger whilst completely submitting to the will of her mistress or any other known female acquaintances.

“Is that what Jemima and Angelic just had; a hissy fit?” I asked.

“Exactly,” smiled Victoria, “so now, they’ve been taken upstairs to be disciplined.”

“Oh. What does that mean, disi, - disa, -?” Wondered Janice, betraying her eight-year-old’s vocabulary.

“Disciplined means being corrected.” Smiled Victoria. “Both sissies have to be made to understand that whilst hissy fits are expected in sissies, they should always try to control them. If they can’t control them then they must accept the consequences for their own failings.”

“So what will happen to them?” I asked.

“They will probably be plugged or something. Mummy usually knows exactly what to do and Sophia, that’s Angelica’s older sister, will assist mummy.”

“Is she the girl who ordered them upstairs?” Asked Janice.
Victoria nodded and gently swung her legs to set the garden seat swinging. We rocked in silence for several minutes until Jemima and Angelica reappeared from inside the house. It was immediately noticeable that they both walked with very tight mincing steps as they swayed and teetered towards us. Despite this peculiar behaviour, it was obvious that both sissies were still very upset about wearing the same ensembles. Victoria slowed the swinging garden seat down and invited the pair to join us as Janice and I wriggled together to make room. Jemima and Angelica settled very delicately on the seat and wriggled uncomfortably as their butts made contact. However, because their corsets restricted their agility, once they had bent down to sit, the stiffness of their corsets precipitated their descent. Both sissies ‘flopped’ into the seat and squirmed anxiously before finally raising their legs and settling in a semi prone position beside each other as they lay along the seat. In this position they had to slip their shoes off and rest their legs on my and Janice's laps whilst Victoria sat on our other side and resumed gently rocking the seat.

With both sissy’s silk clad stocking legs resting on our laps, it was all Janice and I could do to resist the temptation to tickle their feet. Instead we gently stroked their soft, smooth, curvy, silky legs to reassure them that we meant no harm. Both sissies smiled wanly and simpered gratefully as they tried to suppress their overwhelming urges to squirm and wriggle their butts.
Eventually, their whimpering quietened down but the gentle squirming persisted. Jemima and Angelica slid down slightly so that their corseted butts were pressing Janice and me up against Victoria at the other end of the long garden seat. Slowly the pair entwined their stockinged legs around each other and started to hug each other as they each placed their own thumb in their friend’s mouth. They looked at Victoria as though begging for permission and Victoria smiled condescendingly. Then, the tension that I could feel in their bodies, relaxed and they settled more easily as they commenced silently sucking each other’s thumbs.

It was only after everything fell silent that Janice and I finally heard the feint whirring noises emanating from inside their bloomers.

“What’s that noise?” Asked Janice as she turned to Victoria.

“It’s to make sissies behave when they’ve been naughty. You’ll learn all about it when you start school in September.”

“Yes!” Gasped Jemima as she slipped Angelica’s thumb from her mouth and wriggled with agitation. “You’d better always be good or you’ll get it.”

I wanted to ask more questions but Victoria put her fingers to her lips and softly spoke a warning.

“Don’t ask too many questions, girls. Half the fun at Mistress Janet’s is the learning process.”

On this note we fell silent as Victoria continued gently rocking the swing until other children arrived.

After several minutes, I started to get uncomfortable being squeezed between Jemima and Angelica’s butts on my right hand side and poor Janice on my left hand side. Janice was also being squeezed between Victoria and me. I struggled to get comfortable and Janice objected.

“Stop pushing.” She cried.

“I’m being crushed,” I explained.

Victoria nodded and recognised that the two bigger sissies had slid further along the seat and were now pressing all three ‘girls’ up to one end. In doing so, their frilly satin frocks had ridden up to expose their corsets and knee length bloomers. I noticed that even their underwear matched so it was no wonder they were suffering from a ‘hissy fit’. Ever the obliging little sissy myself, I offered to sit at the other end and let them rest their heads on my lap. (To tell the truth, Jemima and Angelica’s beautiful, matching, long flowing golden hair fascinated me.) Victoria’s eyes widened with delight as she smiled.

“Why Michelle, that’s a lovely idea! You’re such a thoughtful little sissy. Isn’t that such a kind thought Jemima?”

Victoria’s little sissy brother nodded sulkily as she continued embracing her friend Angelica. Victoria scolded her.

“Why you ungrateful sissy. Say you’re sorry and give Michelle a kiss to thank her. Everybody will be much more comfortable if Michelle sits up that end and makes room for Janice and me down here. Now, lift your legs and let Michelle get up.”
Jemima and Angelica struggled to raise their legs enough for me to get up but I was pinned down by the strictures of my own corset. I floundered helplessly until Victoria recognised my plight and she smiled as she extended a helping hand.

“You still haven’t got used to corsets, have you darling.” She grinned.

I huffed and puffed for a moment before I was finally tilted up like a log by Victoria’s helping hand. Once I was standing, I smoothed down my frock, made some frou-frou with the multiple petticoats then invited Jemima and Angelic to lower their knees onto Janice's lap before raising their heads to allow me to sit at the other end. They obliged, mainly because of Victoria’s domineering presence, and I carefully plopped my corseted bottom down next to the arm of the garden seat. The pair then lowered their heads into my lap and made them selves comfortable. Janice and Victoria smiled gratefully as everybody was now comfortable. Jemima and Angelica resumed sucking their thumbs as I stroked their lustrous hair and dreamed of the day when my hair would be like theirs and Janice's.

From my corner of the swinging seat I could see Auntie Beverly and Victoria’s sissy dad, smiling at us through the kitchen window. I realised we presented an idyllic scene. Five pretty ‘girls’ in beautiful frilly party frocks, savouring the warm, late afternoon English sunshine. Our peace was only to last for a quarter of an hour though before Sophia appeared out of the French doors with the remainder of the children who we had met at the crá¨che the night before. We four younger ones were roped into games of ‘catch’ and tag whilst Victoria and Sophia where invited to join the adults indoors. At fifteen and sixteen, the two older girls were being slowly inducted into adult company while Janice and I being only eight and ten respectively, were attached to the junior group who were aged between eleven and fourteen.

The garden soon rang to excited squeals and shrieks of delight as corseted sissies and real girls minced eagerly after each other trying to catch their favourite friend and perhaps even steal a kiss. Naturally our childish enthusiasm started to get the better of us and the fun started to liven up. Eventually we heavily corseted sissies fell victim to ‘the vapours’ as we ran short of breath. One of the girls realised the situation and minced urgently into the house.

“Jemima, Angelica and all her sissy friends have had fits of the vapours!” She giggled. “They’re all collapsed on the grass.”
Victoria and Sophia were despatched to deal with the situation and soon mustered the younger girls to assist in unbuttoning our frocks and slackening our corsets so that we could recover our breath.

Most of us sissies had actually feinted and I myself only remembered coming to and wondering what the strange flickering light was. As I recovered consciousness I realised it was the sun shining through the foliage of the apple tree where I had collapsed and feinted. As I recovered, Janice brought me a glass of water and smiled as she held it for me. My hands were still too unsteady as they shook feebly.

“You’ve just had the vapours.” She giggled.

I was too breathless to speak and simply lifted my limp fingers to my head as I tried to sit up. It was no good. I was still too disorientated and had to sit quietly for several more minutes before I was finally feeling right. Eventually we all recovered and Victoria’s sissy dad tightened our corsets to the regulation settings before we were taken upstairs and made presentable. In Jemima’s huge bedroom, all the sissies fussed and primped with their appearances as they assisted each other with their frocks and hair before tidying up their makeup. I noticed, no girls were present and I felt a little left out because I had no companion to help me. Eventually, Jemima recognised my plight and invited me to her dressing table. As I approached she took hold of me and struggled to lift me onto her lap. I was surprised at how difficult Jemima found it was to lift me. She was fourteen after all and I was only ten. Victoria had lifted me with consummate ease and she was only a sixteen-year-old girl. Obviously, sissy Jemima was a lot weaker than his older sister.

I would learn why as I got older myself and grew up in Mistress Janet’s academy. Not only were Mistress Janet’s sissy’s cowardly pansies when confronted with merest threat of violence, but they were also enfeebled physically. Naturally, they were utterly incapable of physically resisting an unwanted advance or threat. In all social circumstances, sissies were worse off and weaker than lambs before lions.

The most excruciating circumstance was when a mistress had instructed a sissy to resist another person’s advance but the poor sissy was utterly incapable of offering any practical resistance to that unwanted approach.
She could of course, cry and whimper and beat her useless little fists on the attacker’s chest, or even breasts, if the attacker was a woman, but any meaningful, effective resistance was utterly beyond them. Mistress Janet’s sissies were always the attacked and never the attacker.

Anyway, after having struggled to lift me onto her lap, Jemima smiled into her mirror and helped me adjust my wig before applying just the most delicate touch of makeup.

In struggling to lift me onto her lap, Jemima’s efforts had caused our hooped petticoats and frilly dresses to ride up to our waists. My silky pantalets were visible all the way up to the hem of my corset and Jemima’s high gloss stockings were also visible past her knees where they disappeared under the frilly edges of her silky bloomers, which in turn disappeared under her satiny pink corset at mid thigh.

I couldn’t resist wiggling my bottom and crossing my legs as my silky nylon stockings slithered inside my satiny pantalets which in turn slithered about on Jemima’s high gloss stockings and silk frilly bloomers. For a moment I almost slipped off Jemima’s lap but she caught me by my slender waist. Jemima had also enjoyed the slippery frictionless sensation of several layers of silk, satin and nylon slip sliding against each other. She whispered in my ear.

“Silk stockings and nylon panties are just the nicest feeling aren’t they?”

I sighed and nodded my head blissfully as she gently reached under my corset and stroked my stiff, silk imprisoned little pee-pee whilst giggling softly.

“I can tell you like it don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered softly, “don’t you?”

“At times like this, yes,” she sighed as she gave my waist one last little squeeze and gently reached up under the hem of my corset again to savour one last stroke of my trapped pee-pee.

“D’you want to feel mine?” She whispered.

Curiosity got the better of me and I cautiously inveigled my hand under the hem of her corset. Jemima squirmed and twitched eagerly but I had trouble finding her pee-pee.

“Where is it?” I gasped. “I can’t find it.”

“Just a bit lower, you’re too high.” Croaked Jemima.

I followed her instructions and eventually located a very stiff but very small little bud.

“It’s hard,” I exclaimed, “but it’s very small.”

“Yes,” sighed Jemima, “I’m a proper sissy now.”

I fingered it curiously for a few minutes and eventually Jemima gave a soft little mewling sound like a kitten looking for it’s mother. Then she wrapped her arms around m and squeezed me eagerly before letting out a soft sigh and hugging me tighter.

“Ooooh! Thank you. That was just so lovely!”

After recovering from what was obviously some sort of orgasm, Jemima lifted me back up to her lap and hugged me tight to her breasts.

I couldn’t help snuggling up to her ripe soft breasts and savouring the intimacy before she wagged her head despondently then took hold of my sissified waist and lowered me down again gently. I now found it impossible to compose myself because my little pee-pee was stiff with frustration but I couldn’t bend enough in the rigid corset to reach under my corset and bring my boy-clitty any relief. I squirmed as I hesitated beside Jemima while she expertly applied the finishing touches to her own appearance.

“I wish I could do makeup like you.” I sighed.

“You’ll soon learn all about makeup at Mistress Janet’s.” Sighed Jemima as she shifted uncomfortably to try and adjust her corset whilst the strange, soft ‘buzzing’ noise continued to betray the strange goings-on in her butt. Unable to bring any remedy to her situation she finally sagged despondently before adding.

“We can’t always have what we wish for though, can we? For instance I wish I always had a lovely little sissy brother like you to play with, somebody who could have taken my place when I was younger. Your just such a little beauty.” Replied Jemima wistfully.

I sensed Jemima’s remorse and persisted inquisitively.

”Why? Don’t you like being a sissy?” I asked innocently.

“I wanted to be a boy, but it’s too late now. I’ll always be a sissy. Look at me, look at these.”

She cupped her bountiful breasts and made them wobble attractively. I wanted to touch them but resisted the temptation. It was my first intimation that some boys hated being sissies and Jemima was such a boy. However, such was my own transvestite, innocence and ignorance. I had no idea that wearing beautiful frilly frocks, silky stockings and corsets could actually be deemed a punishment. I found the whole experience simply delightful.

‘Still,’ I supposed privately, ‘it took all sorts to make the world go around.’

I stood gazing enviously at Jemima in the mirror until she smiled back at me then stood up as gracefully as her buzzing discomfort would allow and declared that we all had to go down to her birthday tea. It was hard for me to make Jemima out. Sometimes she seemed to revel in her sissiness and at other times she seemed to rebel. I hadn’t realised that Jemima was still transitioning and until she was sixteen or so, she would have flashbacks to her early boyhood and suffer withdrawal symptoms. Mistress Janet’s techniques and training were well proven though, and by the time Jemima was sixteen or seventeen, she would be a perfect sissy.

As Jemima led the others downstairs, I noticed that she and Angelica were mincing much more than the rest of us sissies and both of them were squeezing their knees so tightly together that they could hardly walk. It exaggerated her mincing gait tenfold and I eventually realised that the buzzing sounds emanating from under their bloomers must have had something to do with it. Despite her obvious discomfort, Jemima struggled to present as a perfect sissy as she took my hand gently and we minced together down the stairs. Then her exaggerated mincing walk made our petticoated frocks flounce and sway as we made our entrance into the dining room. All eyes widened with appreciation as we made a perfect parade of sissies and took our places at the table.

“Pray be seated,” ordered Jemima’s mummy, and we all graciously took our seats at the table.

It was noticeable to all that Jemima and Angelica were the last to sit for they took considerable care to lower their butts very gingerly onto their chairs. I was too fascinated with the table full of delights to notice the knowing secretive smiles, flash between the adults as they discreetly noted Jemima and Angelica’s super-sissified decorum. I would come to learn of vibrating butt-plugs soon enough in Mistress Janet’s academy.

Like children everywhere, Janice and I wanted to try every delicious offering on the table but I found to my surprise, that my tummy simply could not accommodate them. After only two little pastries and a glass of apple juice, my tummy seemed completely full and I could not face another morsel. Auntie Beverly noticed my inability to ‘fill my face’ and she walked around the table to ask solicitously.

“What’s the matter Petal? Are you off your food?”

I replied that I felt fine and would love to have tasted some of the delicious cake and trifle that was on offer but somehow my tummy seemed too full.

“Oh dear,” replied Auntie Bev, “I do hope you’re not sickening for something.”

She then turned to my sister Janice.”

“Are you alright darling?”

“Yes mummy, fine,” replied Janice as she savoured a huge portion of the deliciously decorated trifle.

I looked longingly at Janice's full trifle bowl and sighed with frustration. The trifle looked just so delicious but my tummy simply refused to countenance another iota of food. It was only then that I noticed all the other sissies had finished eating whilst only the real girls and adults continued indulging themselves. I was puzzled by the situation for normally I could have eaten Janice under the table.

Instead I simply sat reflectively and exchanged wan smiles with the other sissies until everybody had eaten their fill and we retired from the table to play party games.
Naturally, the games turned out to be girlish parlour games as we giggled and minced around the room trying to complete silly tasks or find hidden prizes. Finally, there was a quiz and I excelled myself by winning easily.

Auntie Bev was very proud of me and gave me a terrific hug as I eagerly unwrapped my prize. It turned out to be the most deliciously frilly pair of panties with matching bra and teddy. They were the most beautiful creations I had ever seen and my little heart thumped with joy as I pleaded to Auntie Bev.

“Oh, please Auntie, plee-ase! Can I try them on now?”

“Not yet darling, it takes too long to unfasten your corsets. You can try them on when you go to bed.”

“But nobody else will be able to admire them,” I protested childishly.

“Why of course they will darling. Have you forgotten that you’re all sleeping over tonight?”

“Oh! No! I’d completely forgotten!” I gasped with joy as my eyes widened with delight. “What, all of us?”

“Yes Petal. Victoria’s mummy has a special bedroom with lots of big beds. You’ll be sharing with Janice, Jemima and Angelica.”

The idea of sharing a big bed with lots of friends got me really excited and now I couldn’t wait to go to bed. It had always been fun when I was allowed to share with Janice for we had cuddled up close and whispered our secrets to each other until sleep overtook us. Now there would be four of us giggling and chattering away I realised it was going to be wonderful. There would be all sorts of new stories and secrets to share. I smiled at Jemima and Angelica and their returned smiles reflected their excitement.

We continued playing more games until fairly late in the evening while Victoria’s daddy washed the dishes and generally tidied away the party remains. Later as I was looking for a hiding place for the game of ‘hide-and-seek’, I overheard him talking quietly to Aunty Bev.

“Your little Michelle did well in the quiz.”

I realised they were talking about me.

“Yes,” replied Auntie Bev, “she’s as bright as a button.”

“So you’ll not be bimboising her.”

“Oh no. That would be such a waste. She’s got an excellent little head on her shoulders.”

“It’s just as well she’s a natural sissy. We had to bimboise Jeremy to calm him down and get him back on the straight and narrow.

He was an absolute terror to the neighbourhood girls until he ended up in court for assault on the little girl across the street. Now they’re best of friends. Her parents think Jeremy has been sent away to a psychiatric institution and they have no idea that Jeremy is Jemima. They didn’t approve of Jeremy being sent away at first but in the end it brought peace to the whole street and they were compelled to agree that it was for the general good of all the little girls in the street. They still think that Jeremy’s locked away.

The parent’s mentality was that the punishment fitted the crime and Jeremy deserves to be shut away. They would have had him castrated if they could.
It’s much more humane doing it this way. Jemima’s free to come and go but she’s utterly incapable of any violence now. Besides having changed her nature, she’s physically incapable of being violent. She just hasn’t the strength. She’s a lot more manageable and she’s on her way to be coming a perfectly domesticated sissy. What plans have you for Michelle?”

“Oh it’s early days yet. She wants to be a sissy but there’s plenty of time to decide. She’s only ten.”

“A natural sissy.” Mused Victoria’s daddy. “That’s just perfectly delightful. I’m a natural transvestite but I’m a heterosexual and quite comfortable with my condition. I work mainly from home and from a small office in the city. My assistant is a tolerant woman who I informed of my transvestism before I employed her. She understands that I’m totally loyal to my wife.”

“Yes. I’ve heard that. I wish I could find a husband as loyal as you. Portia and Victoria are very lucky to have such a caring man about the house. Do you always go en-femme?”

“Not all the time, but I’m doing it more and more as people in the street get to know me. When they ask about Jeremy I say that I’m fully in favour of such boys being locked away and glad that he’s out of our hair. They nod sanctimoniously and agree. It’s surprising how cruel the so-called middle class intellectuals can be. The assault was little more than boyish curiosity, all he did was lift the girl’s skirt for a dare but her parents blew it up out of all proportion. He was a wild thing though so perhaps it’s for the best.”

“Are you keeping Jemima entire?” Asked Auntie Bev.

“Yes. She might want children one day. We have no right to take that away from her.”

“She’ll have to find a very special wife then.”

“You mean like I found Portia.”

Auntie Bev smiled and nodded.

“More like she found you. Good men are harder to find; at least that is, caring, sharing men.”

“Well thank you. Actually, Portia saw me and approached me in the club where I was doing a little comedy routine en-femme. She said that making her laugh was the most important step. After that came her acceptance of my transvestism.
Now can you hold these steps steady while I put the trifle bowl away on the top shelf? We won’t be using it again before Christmas.”

Auntie Bev steadied the steps as Victoria’s daddy struggled to climb up them in her pencil slim skirt. She had to hold onto my Auntie Beverly's shoulders to steady herself then finally straightened herself up and wobbled precariously as she reached up to replace the trifle bowl on the very highest shelf. As I peeped through the crack of the door hinge I noticed that Auntie Bev could not resist taking a peek up Victoria’s daddy’s skirt. He caught her in the act and giggled.

“Naughty, naughty! What would Portia say?”

“You’ve got nice taste in panties.” Countered my auntie as her face crimsoned.

“Well Portia chooses them. She helps me with all my shopping. Mature transvestites tend to dress like tarts unless a good woman takes them in hand.”

“My brother Penny and her partner Jamie do very well without a woman’s touch.” Riposted Auntie Bev.

Victoria’s daddy snorted with mirthful contempt.

“Yes but you must agree, Penny’s a screaming homosexual; though I must agree, she’s got excellent feminine tastes. Jamie takes all her clothing advice from Penny. Did you know Jamie’s bi-sexual?”

“Good gracious no!” Gasped my Auntie Bev. But, but, - I mean, - she lives totally en-femme.”

“I know she does, and she does it very well.” Continued Victoria’s daddy. “But she’s still bisexual. One night, Jamie told my wife Portia that she would love to find a good woman like Portia. A woman who would tolerate her feminine side and accept her relationship with your brother Penny.”

My Auntie Bev fell silent as Victoria’s daddy stepped down off the steps. He sensed her silence and smiled knowingly.

“Jamie’s not a bad catch you know. She’s heir to a title and a huge estate. She’s a nice person as well.”

“I know all that,” nodded my aunt, “Jamie’s been my next door neighbour since we were children. We’ve grown up together. I just never thought.”

Auntie Bev mused softly as Victoria’s daddy folded the steps.

“Jamie. Oh my God! It’s just so obvious. I’ve always wanted a man like my brother, why it would be just perfect!”

“You’d better check with Penny first. It wouldn’t be fair to hurt her feelings or make her jealous.”

“Oh Penny and I are too close to be jealous of each other. Penny would love to have some more nieces and nephews. She adores Michelle and Janice.”

“Well, sound Penny out, see if she’s agreeable. At least Penny knows you. She knows you’re tolerant of gays and stuff. It could work, like a sort of reverse ménage-a-trois.”

My Auntie Bev giggled just as Angelica spotted me peeping through the doorjamb. Angelica was ‘it’ and she squealed her victory as she minced frantically back to the den and counted me out. Angelica’s squeal had alerted Auntie Bev and Victoria’s daddy to the presence of somebody in the hall and they stopped talking. Fortunately they still had not realised that I had been behind the kitchen door, nor did they realise I had heard everything. As I minced back to the ‘den’ I was too engrossed in what I’d heard to bother about having been caught. The idea of Auntie Bev marrying Uncle Penny’s girlfriend Jamie intrigued me.
Then the game took over my thoughts, as I became the next seeker for I had been discovered first. This was essentially because I had not bothered to hide as I eves-dropped on my Auntie and Victoria’s dad.

The game of ‘hide-and-seek’ proved to be a success, mainly because there could be no wild or desperate charges to make it to the den without being caught. Our corsets ensured that we had to mince demurely whilst our pursuer was equally constrained. This ineffectual mincing stricture contributed immensely to the fun of the game as our frustrations were enhanced and our efforts made ludicrous. The adults found it uproariously funny to see their children wiggling and mincing feverishly as they struggled to avoid capture and reach the safety of the den first.

I had to confess the corsets had turned the whole game into a comical parody of my previous experiences of hide and seek. The comedy made it all the more enjoyable.
Sadly, all fun has to end. The evening had been voted a huge success and by eleven o’clock it was time for good little sissies to be in bed. This time however, bedtime was not seen as some sort of ordeal. Bedtime would simply be a further extension of the evenings fun as we were all de-corseted, toileted, showered and then re-corseted in our night corsets.

Showering proved to be a most interesting time for me for we all showered communally in a large shower downstairs, that is girls and sissies together mind! It came as a shock to realise that I had the biggest pee-pee even though I was the youngest sissy there. It seemed that Mistress Janet’s sissies were all afflicted with the ‘tiny pee-pee syndrome, just like Miranda was in Miss Stern’s shop. I had yet to learn about the effects of hormones.

I was not that conceited about having the biggest stiffy though, because all the older sissies had beautiful breasts and I so wanted to have such a delightful pair. Indeed, fourteen-year-old Jemima seemed to have largest breasts of all. They were bigger than her sixteen year older sister Victoria’s and even bigger than Angelica’s seventeen-year-old sister Sophia’s. Though strangely, neither Sophia nor Victoria seemed that upset by the fact.

After secretly checking out and comparing our anatomies, we were dried and quickly made modest again as Auntie Bev, Mistress Portia and even Victoria’s daddy prepared us for bed as they dressed us in our all-in-one silky sleep suites then laced us firmly into our and knee-length, night corsets.

By the time we were ready for bed, it was impossible for anybody to get intimate with anybody else and to reinforce this condition, we were all neatly padlocked into our corsets. Any emergency calls of nature in the night would necessitate a call upon the adults to unlock us. I was ever so glad I hadn’t been hungry during the birthday tea.

What I was looking forward to however, was the táªte-á -táªte that Janice and I could have with Jemima and Angelica. Oh what lovely secrets would we share I wondered as a visceral thrill rippled through my tightly corseted body.

This chapter explores further corseting and the vulnerability of sissies to all sorts of perils.

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9 Sissy Farm

Suchi looking angry because we've been out in the car.

I call this her 'I can't read' look.

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.

Upstairs, one wing of Victoria’s large house in Richmond, comprised a large bedroom with four large beds. Each bed could easily hold half a dozen adults so there was ample room for all the children who had been invited to the party.
Apart from Janice and me, all the other children were Jemima and Angelica’s school friends or relatives. All were pupils from Mistress Janet’s academy. That was why they were so relaxed with each other in the showers. The sissies were absolutely no threat to the girls. Indeed, it was rather the other way around! The first question I wanted to ask both Jemima and Angelica was why their pee-pees were so tiny. Indeed they were almost invisible and appeared as no more than a tiny little pink nubbin. They were shaped more like a thimble than a proper pee-pee. In fact I had to bend down and peer closely to make out anything. I now knew why sissies had to sit down to pee for there was no way such tiny little buds could be held and pointed. They were no more than about half an inch long and half an inch across. Also, because Jemima and Angelica had absolutely no hair down there, I could see that they had no little bags, just a tiny patch of wrinkly flesh behind and below their pink little nubbins.

Jemima’s nipples however were bigger than her pee-pee, much bigger! Twice as big in fact!

‘Oh my!’ I thought. ‘I had so many exciting questions to ask.’

The next nice surprise was that when we presented ourselves to Auntie Bev to be locked together she smiled affectionately and told us she was not locking our corsets together. She explained why.

“Your corsets are locked at the back so you can’t get out of them without using my key. I’ve put it in the locket of my mummy’s necklace and I’ll be wearing it around my neck like I always do. Thus while your corseted and locked you can’t get up to any serious mischief. That’s why the four of you can all cuddle together exactly as you like.”

This was wonderful news and Janice and I hugged each other with delight before mincing off to our bed. There we met Jemima and Angelic and gave them the wonderful news.

“We can sleep how we like and with whoever we like.” Janice declared.

At first we had a giggly fit as we tried to decide where we should all sleep. Victoria came over and smiled indulgently.

“What’s up with you four little sweeties?”

“We’re trying to decide the sleeping arrangements,” declared Jemima submissively as her eyes lowered to the floor in the presence of her big sister.

Victoria was obviously in a very happy mood. She bent down and gave her little sissy brother a kiss then went to get a pack of playing cards. She returned and we cut the cards. I was secretly glad I did not pick the highest card. Choosing who you most wanted to cuddle might hurt the other’s feelings. Janice had that task because she cut the highest card. She looked at me and giggled as she explained her choice to Victoria and us.

“I sleep with Michelle all the time. I want to see what it’s like sleeping with a proper sissy, a sissy with a tiny pee-pee.”
Victoria smiled and turned to Jemima and Angelica.

“Which one of you has the smallest pee-pee?”

“Mm! Me! They both simpered hopefully.”

“Oh come now darlings, you cant both have the smallest. I’ll tell you what; Michelle here can reach under your corsets and feel them through your ankle length, satiny all in ones. She can be the judge. Both of you lie down and spread your legs as wide as your corsets allow.”

Jemima and Angelica carefully composed themselves on the bed and tried to spread their legs. The knee length sleeping corsets only allowed them to part their knees a couple of inches but it was enough for me to squeeze my hand between their thighs and ease my hand up into their most secret places. I did Angelica first because she was nearest me and that would show no favouritism. As my fingers groped gently up her inner thigh, I came upon the clip of her suspender belt and for a moment I thought the little rubberised button was the tip of a super-hard pee-pee. Angelica giggled as she twitched.

“That’s my suspender clip silly. My boy-clitty’s further up.”

Everybody chuckled at my silly mistake and I resumed searching. Eventually I found her little nubbin and tested it between my forefinger and thumb. It distinctly started to grow but not very much. Angelica twitched salaciously and tried to hump but the corset was too stiff. Instead she squirmed and sighed contentedly as I tried to induce an even bigger stiffy. It was no use. Angelica’s ‘condition’ could grow no more than about an inch and a half long and remained still only half an inch diameter. I could tell poor Angelic was getting frustrated but I could not help her out. I had to repeat my examination on Jemima. After doing the same with Jemima, I still had to choose, for in truth, there was very little to tell between them. In the end I decided to let my own preferences hold sway. Secretly I wanted to cuddle up to Jemima and I knew that Janice would get to sleep with the sissy with the smallest pee-pee. That was the rule Victoria had made. I declared Angelica’s to be the smallest but I made a big issue of being undecided as I declared.

“It’s hard to tell. They’re both so small it’s hard to tell without looking and that’s impossible under our lace and satin all-in-ones. I think Angelica’s is ever so slightly smaller but I might be wrong. It’s hard to tell!”

Victoria recognised my tact then kissed my lips and smiled.

“That’s good enough for me Petal. Janice gets to sleep with Angelica and you’ll have to put up with my little sissy brother.”

I cast my eyes down to the floor to avoid betraying my feelings then Angelica made space between her and Jemima for Janice to cuddle up. I slipped between Janice and Jemima and relished being cuddled between my beloved little sister and my lovely new sissy friend Jemima. I noticed however, that Jemima and Angelica shared a wistful glance as they realised they would not be able to cuddle up to each other. As I snuggled into the delightful space between Janice and Jemima I declared a compromise.

“We can always move around in the night. There’s no rule about who sleeps with whom, is there Victoria?”

“None at all Petal. You can cuddle whomsoever you like. This was only to avoid any displays of favouritism.” Oh by the way. When you address me from now on, it’s Mistress Victoria. I’m over sixteen now and a senior. You’ll have to do it in Mistress Janet’s academy so you might as well get used to it. The same goes for Angelica’s older sister, Mistress Sophia.”

“Yes,” I replied then quickly remembered to add, “Mistress!”
Victoria smiled and slinked away. I found myself gazing at her beautiful swaying figure and wondered just how she managed to move so slinkily and smoothly as she slid into her own bed beside Mistress Sophia.
Jemima caught me staring and stroked my knee to attract my attention as she explained in a whisper.

“Victoria’s corset isn’t so stiff or tight as ours. You can see her waist is much bigger than ours. And her corset is much shorter, did you see how easily she bent to get into bed.”

I nodded as Victoria and Sophia both turned and smiled at us before embracing each other and snuggling down under their duvet. Jemima and I took their cue and followed suit as Janice and Angelica also cuddled together.
With enough freedom to entwine our ankles, Jemima and I lay facing each other as we stroked each other’s hair.

“I’ll be glad when mine is as long and silky as yours,” I whispered.

“Oh don’t worry; it’ll soon grow out in Mistress Janet’s.” Jemima reassured me.

My gaze naturally fell towards Jemima’s deep inviting cleavage and I tentatively fingered the soft ripe flesh that bulged out above the restraining cups of her corset. Jemima let out a little gasp and shuddered but she did not remove my fingers.

“Is that nice?” I whispered.

“Mmmm!” Jemima croaked quietly. “Especially here.”

So saying she carefully released two tiny hidden zips either side of her corset cups and eased her boobs free. Suddenly I was gazing at two magnificent orbs of pale, creamy ivory, topped with two delicious pink nipples. I gasped with delight as Jemima giggled.

“D’you like them?” She whispered.

“Gosh! They’re beautiful. Do they feel nice?” I gasped enviously.

“Heck yes. They feel nicer than my sissy clit. D’you want to try them?”

“How?” I asked uncomprehendingly.

“D’you want to suck them silly? That’s what they’re for you know.”

“What! Suck your nipples?”

“Of course! You can’t suck my sissy clit can you? It’s locked away down there.”

I felt a thrill of delight as I nosed forward and slid lower down under the duvet. Jemima shifted slightly to get herself comfortable then gently guided my lips to her left nipple. I cautiously extended my lips and brushed them against the stiffening pink offering and Jemima let out another gasp as she whispered hoarsely again.

“Don’t tickle them silly. You’ll send me crazy. Just suck them gently. Don’t bite them!”

I enveloped the stiff pink rosebud with my lips and started to suck ever so gently. Jemima let out a long soft sigh and whispered.

“Mmmm! You’re so-oo good. You’re just as good as Angelica.”

“I heard that!” Giggled Angelica as she also let out an excited little gasp.

“Well Michelle is a sissy as well darling,” riposted Jemima as she reached over my head and found Janice busy on Angelica’s nipple. “What does it feel like to have a real little girl sucking yours?”

“Mmmm. It’s just soo-oo yummy.” Angelica whispered. “I think it’s even nicer cos Janice's little girl lips are just so-oo soft and delicate.

Janice let out a soft muffled giggle. She was too engrossed in suckling Angelica’s nipple to let go but she was listening to Angelica and Jemima exchanging their feelings. Then Angelica and Jemima rolled over to face each other and gaze into each other’s eyes. They smiled at each other over Janice and my heads then they stroked each other’s cheeks. Janice and I were now squeezed softly between the two older sissies and our corseted butts were pressed together. Soon Jemima and Angelica’s bountiful breasts were pressing into our faces. Janice let out a muffled squeak as Angelica’s soft bountiful breasts enveloped her face.

“Mmmphhf! Stop squeezing together I can hardly breath! Your breasts are too big!”

Jemima and Angelica giggled easily. They had had their little joke so now they relaxed and savoured our attentions as their engorged nipples transmitted the delightful sensations directly down their ‘milk lines, to their sissy clitties.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Jemima and Angelica started to breath more heavily. Then Jemima started to groan.

“Ooo-ooh! That’s lovely, that’s just so yummy. Oo-ooh, is it nice for you Angie?”

Angelica let out a low moan and started to hump uselessly as she tried to somehow complement the warm, yummy, squidgy feelings fluttering up and down her tummy.

“Ooo-oh. This is just soo-oo nice. Ooo-oh yes. My tummy, it’s starting to flutter and squirm. Ooo-oo-oo. This is just soo-oo yummy. I feel all sort of mushy inside. Oooh yes. It’s lovely. Keep sucking Janice! Don’t stop. Gently now! Take me, take my milk; take everything. I surrender to you, take me! Take me! Ooo-ooh yes, I surrender, I surrender! Take me! Take all of me!”

She kept squirming and gasping more and more as Jemima started to complement her urges and cries. I took Janice's cue and continued sucking as gently as I could without losing my grip on Jemima’s nipple. Jemima was now fingering her other nipple urgently so I offered to swap to her other nipple.

“Can you suck them both at once?” Croaked Jemima as she squeezed her fulsome breasts together and forced her nipples to meet.

I recognised her wish and gently pushed between her breasts to take each nipple into different sides of my mouth then I resumed gently sucking. However, I had to suck a little harder to keep the nipples in my mouth and I had to cup each breast in my hands to hold them together. Thus repositioned, I continued to suck on Jemima’s nipples and accidentally ‘tongue lashed’ them occasionally as I kept checking to make sure her nipples remained properly located in my mouth. I did not realise that this made Jemima’s nipples even more excited and she let out a soft squeal that even alerted Victoria and Sophia.

“What are you naughty little sissies up to?” Giggled Sophia, (as if she didn’t know)!

“It’s nothing!” Angelica cried. “Janice just got a bit crushed.”

“Liar!” Giggled a muffled Janice from under the duvet.

“Just be quiet and keep doing that, oo-ooh!” Angelica groaned hoarsely. “You know how to make a sissy happy, you little minx. Yee-ess! Just there, that’s lovely, and keep doing that with your tongue. That’s just soo-oo nice! Ooo-ooh. I’m getting mushy feelings. My tummy’s all squidgy and yummy. Yess! Yee-eess. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh my. My tummy! It’s all kind of, - it’s sort of, - oh I don’t know, it’s loo-oveleee!"

Angelica’s little hands clenched and waggled uselessly upon her pillow as her body erupted in to soft slow waves of delight emanating from deep down in her tummy and radiating to every extremity. She drummed her little heels and clenched her little hands as her head rocked from side to side on the pillow and long low moans escaped from deep within her breast. It was just like a dairy cow lowing to be allowed into the dairy. Janice's face widened into a delighted smile as she realised that Angelica had just enjoyed some strange sort of sissy orgasm.

Angelica’s actions immediately precipitated Jemima into a similar response and it was my turn to wonder as I felt the same convulsions and fluttering rippling through Jemima’s soft ripe body. I even made sure to check that Jemima really was orgasming by delicately placing three fingers under her left breast and confirming that her heart was thundering away.

‘Yes,’ I concluded secretively, ‘Jemima was definitely enjoying some sort of orgasm; and she was enjoying it a lot!’

It surprised me that neither Angelica nor Jemima made any attempt to assuage any sensations they must have had in their sissy clitties and I was left wondering just what it was that sissies experienced. How and why Jemima and Angelica’s orgasms seemed so different from Janice’s and mine?

I knew that my orgasm was a sudden and irresistible peak of delight that subsided every bit as quickly as it arrived, whilst Janice's was of a similar nature but much more prolonged and indulgent. Nevertheless both our orgasms tended to concentrate on our pee-pee or clitty although Janice’s was more all embracing and the feelings of languor did radiate through her body, leaving her to luxuriate in the afterglow. For Angelica and Jemima, it was obvious that the sensations left them replete with a sensation of total surrender and utter submission.

Eventually, Jemima introduced her delicate little fingers into my mouth and pleaded with me to surrender my grip on her nipples. I did so for it was obvious that poor Jemima was exhausted from her indulgences. It would have been cruel to mistreat such a defenceless little sissy even though she was fourteen and I was only just approaching eleven.

Angelica had less luck with Janice. Being only eight years old, Janice still had faint memories of suckling from mummy up until the age of five that is just before she started school. Janice had secret hopes of maybe getting some milk from Angelica’s generous breasts but none was forthcoming. Nevertheless, Janice was reluctant to release such a delightful pair of natural ‘comforters’. Angelic pleaded softly then resorted to beseeching me to persuade my little sister to release her breasts. I felt it was only fair to respect Angelica’s tender feelings and after some hugging and kissing, I reassured Janice that she was quite safe and didn’t need any ‘comforters’. Eventually, Janice released Angelica’s nipples and the poor sissy let out a tearful gasp of utter relief.

Janice and I then expected Jemima and Angelica to reciprocate our favours but to our utter surprise and dismay, both sissies fell into deep restful sleeps.

What with the afternoon hissy fit followed by the but-plug punishment and the starvation at the birthday tea, it had been a long day for the sissy companions. Sadly our corsets proscribed any proper attentions to Janice's clitty and my sissy clit so reluctantly; we were forced to try sleeping. We cuddled together between Jemima and Angelic until sleep overtook us eventually, but it was fractious.

Morning brought with it the usual ‘needs’ for all of us. Fortunately Victoria’s house was well equipped and well organised. All the other children simply slipped into a similar routine as the routine at Mistress Janet’s academy. It was an easy step for Janice and I to simply follow suit. Firstly Auntie Bev unlocked us from our corsets and we gratefully struggled free of them before joining the queue for the bathrooms. There were several bathrooms in Victoria’s large town house so it was but a short wait to relieve ourselves. Naturally, because of the frustrations of the previous evening, both Janice and I needed additional relief apart from our bodily functions. When I stripped naked in preparation for the shower, there were gasps and giggles from all the other children.

“Ooh look! Michelle’s got a proper stiffy look! Look it’s pointing to the sky! Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Squealed Jemima. “What’s she going to do-oo?”

Suddenly, I realised that I was the odd one out. All the girls had nothing to show of their urges whilst all the sissies only had shiny, little purple nubbins sticking out and down no more than an inch. Furthermore I had an untidy little wrinkled bag underneath my stiffy, whilst all the sissies had nothing to show unless they sat back and spread their legs to display a flat, wrinkled little patch where once a pair of testicles had resided. I was surprised and alarmed by this revelation. It was strange enough that their pee-pees had all but disappeared, but for their balls to shrink away was very peculiar. My mummy had once explained to me as I shared a bath with my little sister that the wrinkly bag was what made me a boy. It was even more important than my pee-pee. Then I had noticed that Janice's dingly dell had some slight wrinkles also, so I was not so jealous of her special baby hole.

Now however I was both embarrassed and alarmed. If I truly wanted to be a sissy and grow nice big breasts would I really have to give up my sensitive balls and shrink my pee-pee to almost nothing? For a second I was almost persuaded to cover my ‘condition’ but just at that moment, Auntie Bev and Mistress Portia appeared and scolded the other sissies for frightening me.
“You silly little sissies! Scolded Mistress Portia. Don’t you understand that Michelle is still very young? She hasn’t had time to grow into a sissy. Now leave her alone. She’ll become a wonderful little sissy all in good time.
However, we are going to have to milk her. Mistress Beverly needs some of Michelle’s milk to preserve for later times. Come here darling. You know what to do.”

“Nervously, I stepped forward out of the shower queue then spread my legs obediently as I sat back on the edge of the bath. Now my pee-pee was standing proud and tall for I knew what was coming. I was about to be ‘milked’! Auntie Bev and Mistress Portia knelt down and invited Victoria and Sophia to come and look closely.
Naturally all the other children were curious and craned forward to look.

Strangely, I stopped feeling embarrassed as Auntie Bev explained to Victoria and Sophia.

“It’s quite easy now that she’s developed a ‘condition’ see. Her pee-pee is nice and erect and it’s easy to manipulate. Now Sophia, you take her little pee-pee between your forefinger and thumb and you gently slide your finger and thumb up and down the shaft. Fortunately it’s only about three inches long so there is not much effort required. Furthermore, as she becomes more sissified, it will not grow any more; indeed it will probably shrink to become a little bud just like the rest of Mistress Janet’s sissies. I haven’t decided yet how to proceed with Michelle’s sissyfication nor have I discussed it with her.”

My Auntie Bev gently guided Portia’s fingers delicately up and down my pee-pee as it stiffened and strained to grow some more. Despite my burgeoning excitement, my pee-pee remained firmly at about 3 inches. However, my foreskin started to peel back and reveal the shiny purple nubbin that lived underneath. Victoria and Sophia gasped with delight.

“Ooh! Look! That bit’s just like Jemima’s little nubbin. Look it’s all shiny and purple.”

"Oh Crickey yes!” Squealed Sophia. “It’s exactly like Angelica’s little bud but it’s perched on the end of her pee-pee instead of nestling under her tummy. Oh that’s so clever! It looks like a little cherry sitting on top of an iced lolly! Is it as sensitive as Angelica’s?”

“It most certainly is.” Replied Mistress Portia as she gently scratched it with her fingernail and caused me to squeal with a mixture of fear and pleasure. “In fact, it’s even more sensitive because it normally lives under this little covering of flesh.”

By now I was humping the air with frustration and my little pee-pee had started to twitch as my orgasm started to boil. I well knew what these sensations now foretold and I gasped a warning.

“I’m going to come Auntie! I’m going to coo-oome!”

Auntie Bev quickly produced a long-necked, fluted champagne glass she had been holding and placed it over my pee-pee.
The sudden sensation of cool smooth glass touching my pee-pee immediately precipitated my orgasm and I humped feverishly as Victoria and Sophia stared, mesmerised by the spouting force of my ejaculation.

“Crickey!” Giggled Victoria. “It’s like a water pistol!”

“Exactly,” agreed Auntie Bev as she deftly removed the glass and allowed my seed to spurt clear across the bathroom. The gathered girls squealed with surprised delight.

“See young ladies, let that be a demonstration. A male ejaculation is powerful, especially in the young boys. The machinery is new and very virile. You must always take care when dealing with a full male because this stuff can spurt a long way and splash over a wide area.”

“But sissies don’t.” Countered Sophia. “They just dribble a little bit and make a tiny sticky deposit in the crotch of their panties. In fact they make less wetness than we girls do. ”

“Precisely,” added Mistress Portia, “the pump that drives the ejaculation is called the prostate gland and when a boy is sissified, that pump becomes almost useless. The muscles atrophy and the mechanism ceases to work. That’s why sissies simper and squirm when they get excited, because they can’t obtain relief like a proper male. However, they do have a lovely sort of squidgy, yummy feeling down there and it sort of spreads through their whole bodies, very much like a girl’s orgasm but not quite so overwhelming and with even less of a peak. It makes them very submissive and languid and that’s why sissies become so affectionately attached to their dairy partners. They share the same sensations and it makes them very dependant upon each other.”

By now, my orgasm had subsided and I was listening to Mistress Portia’s explanations. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to lose my explosive orgasms. I resolved to talk privately with Auntie Bev as soon as, -.

With the anatomy lesson over, I resumed my place in the queue for the shower as Auntie Bev slipped away with the champagne glass full of my seed. Almost immediately after, I saw her driving away only to return about twenty minutes later. Little did I know that she was delivering my semen to a sperm bank.

She returned whilst I was showering with Janice and Jemima and because we were the last to shower, Auntie Beverly overheard us talking about my orgasms. Poor Jemima was quite upset.

“I wonder what it’s like making your boy-clitty spurt like that. Doesn’t it hurt at all?”

“Heck no!” I grinned. “It feels great. It sort of tickles with every spurt and you don’t want it to stop!”

“But it does stop,” observed Jemima.

“Yeah. That’s when I’ve run out of stuff.”

“It doesn’t last very long though,” continued Jemima as she sought to somehow accord her sensations a better process. “I mean; it’s all over in a few seconds. My orgasms last much longer; longer even than Victoria’s.”

“Yeah but they’re not as nice. Mine are fantastic.”

“What happens after? Do you get all cuddly and affectionate?”

“I get sleepy.” I replied.

“But she cuddles up to me,” countered Janice as she sprung to my defence.”

Jemima sighed and wagged her head despondently.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever know. I mean’ I’m a sissy now forever.”

“But your breasts get nice and tingly.” Added Janice to try and give Jemima a crumb of comfort.

“Yes but all girls get tingly nipples. That’s nothing special. I just so wanted to know, just once, what it feels like to spurt like Michelle.”

Janice fell silent for she had no breasts or sensitive nipples as yet. At her age, such developments were a long way ahead. Nor indeed would she ever know what an ejaculation would feel like. Secretly, I felt ever so pleased and lucky to be able to ejaculate but I kept my counsel.

‘Poor old Jemima.’ I thought. ‘Still, she had superb breasts and really nice nipples,’ I knew, I had sucked them.
Suddenly, I had an idea.

“Hey. Do you want Janice and me to give you to an orgasm now? We could both suck your nipples and that’s what makes you come.”

“Ooo-oh! Would you?” Gasped Jemima. “Have we got time?”

“If we’re quick enough, we might have.”

Jemima’s nipples almost sprang to attention as the anticipation overtook her. Janice and I quickly took a nipple each in our lips whilst we both gently diddled Jemima’s secretive little nubbin. Jemima let out a squeal of delight and started to moan softly as her hips squirmed urgently.

“Ooo-oh. This is nice. Without my corset, you can touch my sissy-clitty. Oooh! That’s lovely! Please, - plee-ase don’t stop!”

Strangely Jemima didn’t hump urgently with her hips against our combined fingers, which was the motion that both Janice and I engaged in when we were getting horny. Instead, Jemima sort of tried to bear down as she squeezed her thighs together and squirmed softly as soft mewling little sounds escaped her lips. Janice and I exchanged puzzled little smiles as we tried to work out just how Jemima’s orgasm was affecting her. Then she sort of gave a soft sort of moaning sound that rather resembled a cow moo-ing. At the same time she started to hug herself and gently run her hands up and down her tummy. Finally, she started to rub her cheeks alternately against Janice and my heads as her body reacted in this strange fashion. It was a sort of constrained, but prolonged form of frustration. Then she gave a tormented little whimper and Janice and I felt the tiniest little deposit of sticky clear fluid seep onto our fingers. Even the consistency of this tiny little emission puzzled us, for both Janice and my secretions were very slippery. Jemima’s juices felt almost like some sort of glue. Janice could not resist putting her finger in her mouth and she smiled as she licked her fingers clean.

“What’s it like?” I mouthed almost inaudibly.

“It’s sort of sweet and sticky. Like a candy.” Replied Janice as she relished the delightful surprise.

Not to be denied, I tasted some and my eyes widened appreciatively. Jemima’s stuff was very strange, quite sticky and strangely sweet. Mine tasted slightly salty.

By now Jemima was whimpering with frustrated desire for it transpired that although Mistress Janet’s sissies certainly enjoyed a sort of orgasm, they were always left just that tiny final bit short of unrequited desire that seemed to keep them permanently on tenterhooks.

I was later to learn that Mistress Janet’s sissies could only ever reach complete satisfaction when she was ‘connected’ to another similarly conditioned sissy. Then they could both orgasm and embrace simultaneously in a mutual cataclysm of mushy, squidgy waves swirling around in their tummies combined with simpering, bimboised emotions swirling around in their vacuous heads. Thus were Mistress Janice's sissies mentally programmed and physically altered forever to depend upon their mistresses for support and their sissy partners for satisfaction.

Finally, the simpering trembling Jemima came down from whatever bizarre peak of delight she had aspired to and we finished showering in preparation to be corseted for whatever the day brought. Jemima’s party extended into its second day and we spent the morning primping and gushing over Jemima’s new clothes whist simultaneously fussing with each other’s hair and makeup. I was very disappointed to have boyish short hair and tried to compensate by endlessly indulging the other partygoers in coming their hair and setting it up in various different fashions. After a few attempts I became quite adept at it and Mistress Portia took me to one side.

“You’re very good at doing hair young lady. You’re very creative. I think you’ve got a natural gift for it.”

“Thank you Mistress Portia,” I whispered as I dipped my knees courteously.

“Yes indeed Michelle. That last design you fashioned for Miss Sophia set of her features beautifully. Just look at her.”

We both watched Miss Sophia as she kept turning and admiring her appearance in the hall mirror. It was obvious that she was enchanted with the style. With a woman’s ‘sixth sense’ she must have felt somebody was watching her and she turned to catch Mistress Portia and I watching her behaviour. She smiled a little self-consciously and glided over.

“I can’t help it. The style just does wonders for my face. I always felt my forehead was a little too rounded but this style seems to enhance it. It feels just perfect.”

“Well you’ve only this dear little sissy Michelle to thank for that young lady. She’s got a gift.”

Sophia bent down and gave me a delightful hug as she pressed her lips firmly against mine and kissed me passionately before she declared.

“I’m going to have to keep tabs on you. We can’t have such a delightful hairdresser getting lost to some selfish Mistress and wasted as a domestic servant or something.”

“I’ve already got that in hand Sophia,” added Mistress Portia,

“Michelle’s Aunty Beverly and I will be contacting Mistress Janet about Michelle’s future.”

Once again, Mistress Portia checked out Sophia’s hair and nodded appreciatively as she smiled.

“Yes Portia, you’re right, it sets off your face beautifully. That was a clever trick with the wave at the front and those two curls.”

At this juncture Victoria arrived and commandeered my services as she interrupted her mother.

“It’s my turn now mummy. Sophia’s had Michelle for half the morning. I want my hair done now!”

“Not quite darling,” countered Mistress Portia, “Michelle also did a couple of others; she’s quick as well as creative. What d’you think of Portia’s hair?”

“It’s lovely. Those waves and curls set off her forehead beautifully.”

“Exactly, agreed Mistress Portia. It seems that our newfound sissy Michelle has a gift for spotting the issues a lady has with her appearance and then finds a clever solution. You’re right Sophia; we are going to have to keep track of this little gem.”

She turned to me and kissed my forehead before instructing me to attend to Victoria. Victoria almost dragged me to her dressing room and Sophia followed eagerly as I minced as fast as my corseted thighs allowed upstairs. In her dressing room, Victoria plonked herself down in front of her basin as Sophia sat on the edge of the dressing table and watched with fascination.

Within a quarter of an hour I had Victoria looking beautiful and that with hardly any hair left cut on the floor. When she finally took a long look in the mirror she primped and turned contentedly.

“It’s beautiful!” Sighed Victoria.

“And so quick!” Added Sophia. “I mean that trick with the scissors and the comb; it looked almost like one movement. Just how do you do that?”

“I don’t know. It just sort of works, it sort of comes without thinking.”

“Yeah, it comes naturally. Just like Vicky’s mummy said. We are going to have to keep tabs on you darling. We definitely can’t have you getting lost in Mistress Janet’s system.”

I smiled gratefully as I glanced about.

“What are you looking for?” Asked Victoria.

“Something to gather up the hair. There’s a few snippets see.”
I picked one up and studied its beautiful golden lustre. Victoria grinned and kissed me happily.

“Oh fiddlesticks to you’re having to sweep up. Jemima!!”

A feint yes came down the hall from Jemima’s bedroom.

“Bring that sissy friend of yours Angelica, and clean up this hair.”

Immediately two pairs of heels minced obediently and purposefully down the hall as Jemima and Angelica presented themselves in the doorway. Victoria didn’t even turn to acknowledge them as she ordered them to clean up the hair.

“But I’ll do it.” I offered.

“Don’t you dare you silly little sissy! Your talents are not going to wasted on chivvying! When a Mistress orders another sissy to do something, she does it! Don’t you ever try and circumvent a mistress’s instructions.”

Suitable chastised, I shrugged apologetically towards Jemima and she pulled a wry smile. It was quite obvious that in this house, sissies had absolutely no say. While Jemima and Angelica organised the vacuum cleaner Victoria led us downstairs to her mother Mistress Portia.

“What d’you think mummy?”

“Oh that’s fantastic. It looks so classy. Well you both look so classy. Will you be coming to the park later?”

“I think Sophia and I would rather go into town. Can we take Miss Janice?”

“You’ll have to ask Mistress Beverly.”

I was hoping they would invite me but it was obviously a ‘girls only’ trip. Mistress Portia detected my dejection and smiled indulgently.

“Don’t worry darling. We’ll have some fun in the park. We’ll be playing hide-and-seek as well as catch with a ball.”

The thought of mincing about in a public place did not exactly enthral me but I knew now that at least I would not be recognised for a boy. Indeed all the others would be corseted and frocked in the most scrumptious creations so I would not be alone. The only fear I had was being caught alone in the bushes whilst playing hide-and-seek. I mean, what if I was hiding in some bushes or something and some horrible boy, or worse, a nasty old man found me in all my frippery? The thought of them grabbing me and pushing their hands up my petticoats was worrying. I knew I would be devastated.

During lunch, Permission was given for Janice to accompany Victoria and Sophia so I resigned myself to playing with the half dozen sissies or so and a couple of girls who were about thirteen and twelve. I wondered why they hadn’t gone with Janice and Victoria.

If anybody likes this story.
My email is.
[email protected]
Enjoy!

In which our heroine learns more about the nature of corseting and unfortunately suffers a homophobic attack. However her attackers get their cum-uppance in later chapters.

I'm persevering with this story for It helps me maintain continuity in my head for the re-writes of the later chapters. I have learned to my cost that it doesn't do to let a story go 'off the boil' because continuity can go awry if one returns to it 'half cocked' and just plunges into the story without keeping track of the plot.

What plot? Do I hear you say.

Exactly.

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Queen of all she surveys.

Chapter 10.

Sissy Farm

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.

After our meagre lunch we sissies were formed up into a crocodile in our beautiful frilly dresses then paraded down the street, across the main road and into the park. The two girls Daphne and Elizabeth led the way with Jemima and Angelica in the second rank whilst I, as the smallest, found myself in the very last rank mincing along beside Mistress Portia. I wanted to ask lots of questions but the crocodile moved along in a genteel silence as we minced in step. The crocodile was a perfect picture, as our beautiful dresses flounced around our hips and the hooped petticoats swayed deliciously.

Many eyes followed us but this being London; strange sites met Londoner’s eyes every day. London had more than a dozen schools that sported bizarre school uniforms ranging from Morning dress, complete with top hats, through to caped girls in tri-corn hats down to junior children in corduroy knickerbockers, buckled shoes and frilly cotton blouses.

It seemed that in London, school uniforms for fee-paying schools basically amounted to whatever fad took the school governing board’s fancy. Tightly corseted girls with tiny waists in frilly knee-length dresses over lacy hemmed, ankle length pantalets and Easter bonnets would seem to be just another sartorial excess subject to a headmistress’s whimsy.
Londoners had seen it all before and simply glanced casually at the newest addition before carrying on their way. I noticed however that our frilly, velvet, shoulder capes came to just below our waists so that nobody would notice the extreme diminution of our slender waists. We entered the park with little disturbance and Mistress Portia directed us to a secluded patch of grass surrounded by trees and bushes where she organised the afternoon’s games.

“Right girls. We’ll play catch the ball first, form a circle please.”

We did as ordered and I took my place last for want of knowing exactly where I stood in any pecking order. Naturally I stood next to Mistress Portia so as to take any directions she might issue. Within seconds, Mistress Portia lobbed the ball gently towards Angelica who minced a couple of urgent steps to the side and just managed to catch it.

Then Angelica lobbed the ball gently to me. I realised immediately that I was going to have to stretch for the ball or I would not catch it. Only then did I realise just how restrictive our corsets made us. As I moved to line myself up for the ball I realised I could not step to the side as easily as I would have liked. Had I been dressed in ordinary boy’s clothes it would have been but the simplest act to snatch the ball from the air and hurl it towards the next boy. Sissies in tight corsets however, had no such freedom. I found myself mincing urgently sideways but I had not responded in time nor anticipated my immobility. As I minced desperately to my right the ball sailed gently past my outstretched fingers and I stumbled sideways. As I lost my balance, I sat with an undignified plop and my hooped underskirt flipped up my petticoats to reveal my silky pantalets. All the other sissies squealed with delight for I looked like a proper sissified Nancy.

Then the next indignity made itself apparent, all the other the sissies giggled and squealed with delight as I struggled to get up. Once again I was made to look ineffectual and pathetic as my long length, rigid corset prevented me from bending sufficiently to get myself to my feet. Instead I had to stretch out my hands like some pathetic little child and beseech somebody to come and help me to my feet. Mistress Portia smiled with satisfaction as she approached me then gently pulled me to my feet before hugging me and kissing me as though she was rewarding some twelve-month-old toddler who was learning to walk.

“Never mind Peaches. You’ll soon learn to catch the ball.”

I wanted to shout out loud that I could have easily caught it but for the corset I was wearing. However I was already settling into the sissy mentality. It seemed that the culture of sissydom was somehow infectious and the company of sissies accelerated that infection. I was reduced to giggling inanely as I tried to hide my silliness and embarrassment.

The next humiliation followed quickly and this involved throwing the ball to the next player.
When a boy throws a ball, he brings his arm right back, folds his elbow then swivels freely at the shoulder and releases the ball with maximum force. This naturally requires that he has a firm footing with his feet spread apart to take the reaction of his throw. Now that I was rigidly corseted, I could not spread my feet very wide and more importantly I could not twist or bend my back to get all my weight behind the ball. My first attempt immediately brought me crashing down again and my hooped petticoats flipped up once more to reveal my silky, frilly pantalets. Again I was reduced to stretching out my arms like some simpering toddler and again, Mistress Portia assisted me with a knowing little smile playing on her lips as she explained.

“You must understand Peaches, when a corseted sissy throws a ball she has to maintain her decorum and femininity. Now you have to hold the ball like this, bend your arm at the elbow then flick it daintily like this see?”

She threw the ball exactly as a sissy girl would and it hardly travelled but about ten yards. I was sent to recover it and had to practice the stiff-backed sissy bob with my knees pressed together. I wobbled alarmingly in my efforts to reach down and pick up the ball but fortunately I just managed it and I minced back victoriously towards Mistress Portia who smiled patronisingly.

“There you are Peaches. You see darling, you can do it if you just try hard enough. Now choose somebody to receive the ball and toss it gently as I have shown you.”

Thus was I compelled to stand with my feet together and flick my elbow and wrist to gently lob the ball to Jemima. She caught it easily and the game took its course. After my humiliation, the mood amongst the sissies became joyful. I had been well and truly inducted into their sorority. If a ball were utterly impossible to catch, Mistress Portia would declare it a ‘no-throw’ or a ‘no-ball’ and the sissy who had thrown it had to pay a forfeit. Usually this was either Elizabeth or Daphne being allowed to put her hands up the sissy’s frock and pinch or squeeze the sissy’s nubbin. The sissy would let out a tormented squeal for a sissy-clit is an extremely sensitive little nubbin even though it is only the size of the tip of one’s finger. That is about as long and as wide as the fingernail on the thumb.

Occasionally I also threw a no-ball and Daphne would argue with Elizabeth as to who could squeezed my strange little, erect boy-clitty. The two girls were obviously very curious as to how a boy’s clitty differed from a sissy’s clitty and they fell to bickering about who’s turn it was after several investigations.

Eventually Mistress Portia had to arbitrate each time. Naturally, the other sissies noticed this development and they slowly expanded the circle every time it was my turn to throw the ball. This meant I had to try and throw the ball harder and this caused me to lose directional control as I tried to flick my wrist just that little bit harder. This in turn caused me to throw ‘no-balls’ more and more often. The agenda had secretly changed amongst the sissies as they noticed Daphne and Elizabeth getting more fractious about who should claim my forfeit.

Mistress Portia also recognised the altered secret agenda and she was savouring the minor spat between the girls. Their dispute only amused the sissies and they widened the circle a little more so that it was virtually impossible for me to throw the ball accurately to any other sissy. I was missing nearly every time. Within an hour, I was all red and breathless from the extra exertions and forfeiting nearly every throw. I became quite breathless from the constant attentions of Elizabeth and Daphne to my boy clitty. Eventually I suffered a fit of vapours from constantly having to try and catch the ball. Then I fainted and Mistress Portia had to slacken my corset laces, to help me recover. After this instance, Mistress Portia decided there had been enough selectivity in the games so she decided to we were next to play hide and seek.

This game involved a sissy standing with eyes closed at ‘the den’ and counting to a hundred very slowly. All the other corseted sissies could mince off to hide as fast as their corsets would allow and find suitable hiding places in amongst the surrounding bushes and trees. I was new to this game and once again I brought myself a pile of grief.
Ordinarily, the children hiding, would make themselves invisible whilst trying to spy on the seeker who after counting slowly to a hundred, would come seeking the hiders. Once the hiders adjudjed that there was sufficient space between the seeker and the den, they would emerge from their hiding places and try to beat the seeker back to the den. As it was my first time, I carefully lay down by a fallen tree whilst making certain that I could use the branches to get up again.

For several long entertaining minutes, I enjoyed myself watching the hiders and the seeker frantically mincing with urgent little delicate steps and wiggling buttocks as they raced each other back to the den. It was an absolutely hysterical scene and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I was lying on my tummy peeping through some dense foliage and I hadn’t realised that my hooped petticoats had popped up behind me like a peacock’s fan. From the back I looked like nothing more than a giant pink and white floribunda rose as my frothy petticoats ballooned up.

From the centre of the ‘rose’ my pantalets were lewdly displayed like the stamen of some giant flower and presented as a perfect invitation to any passer by. My mistake was that whilst I was looking inwards towards the secluded glade and my companion’s game of ‘hide and seek’, I had completely failed to realise that my frilly, pink butt was poking outwards towards the rest of the park. It was a perfect invitation to any passer by.

Naturally a pair of naughty boys about my age quickly accepted that ‘invitation’. I was so engrossed in watching the game and hugging myself with anticipation of my taking my chance to dash for the ‘den’ that I failed to notice the boys creeping up behind me. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands poking up my silk clad butt whilst another pair of hands arrived at my side and held me down whilst simultaneously clamping my mouth.

I almost fainted again but this time from shock and fear. It was no use trying to get up for my corset utterly prevented me from any effective form of struggle. The only thing I could do was thump my feeble, little fists uselessly on the soft earth and try to wiggle my constrained knees. I was well and truly trapped!

The worst of it as that I couldn’t even recognise my attackers. One was completely hidden behind the huge hooped layers of my petticoat and the other was kneeling beside me with one hand easily holding down my narrow waist while his other covered my mouth and thus prevented me from turning around to get a good look at his face. It wouldn’t have mattered even if I could turn for he was wearing a hooded jacket and his face was all but invisible. I tried my hardest to squeal for help but his fingers blocked my mouth. The worst of it was, the more I struggled, the more breathless I became and the less strength I had. My corset prevented any sort of violent activity necessitating deep breathing. Indeed, after a few feeble efforts to free my arms and a few pathetic efforts to wiggle my legs at the knees, I was forced to give up. I was getting quite breathless. Very quickly I was forced to lie still and submit to whatever horrible plans they had for me as I struggled to recover my breath in short fluttering gasps. I didn’t even have enough breath to scream!

Then the boy holding my mouth laughed cruelly as he spoke to his mate.

“Well, well. This is some weird chick Pete. Look at her stupid dress and what’s she wearing under all those frills? It feels kind’a hard.”

“I dunno, Jimmy, she’s got some sort of tight thing on. It’s all sort of stiff with like rods in it.”

He pushed his hand under my corset and between my thighs as he checked out my under things. Soon I felt his fingers groping further up into my most secret places until he realised exactly what it was that so hampered my movements.

“Crickey. It’s a corset! Look Jimmy! She’s wearing a corset!”

Pete, then pushed all the frilled layers of my petticoat up my back to expose my lacy pantalets and the stiff hem of my white and pink satin corset only a couple of inches above my knees.

“Bloody hell. That’s why she can’t kick. Look, she can’t even spread her thighs properly.”

“Can you get your hand up?” Demanded Jimmy.

“It’s too tight,” conceded Pete as he struggled to move his hand freely. “There’s no room cos her corset is binding her knees together. And these long legged panty things are real passion killers. I can’t get them down. I can’t reach her waist.”

“Well rip them off then!”

On hearing this I froze with fear. The very idea of some horrible boys exposing my desperate secret left me almost paralysed with terror.

Pete fidgeted with his fingers under my corset until he managed to gather a small fold of material, then he tugged furiously as he tried to either rip the crotch of my beautiful pantalets or drag my pantalets out from under my corset. To his chagrin, my all-in-one pantalets were made of heavy-duty chartreuse and he could not get a proper grip of the slippery, silky material under my corset. The crotch of my pantalets resolutely refused to tear and he ended up yanking me backwards as he tugged furiously. His efforts to rip my pantalets caused me to lurch backwards and momentarily free of Jimmy’s grasp on my mouth. With one terrified, desperate effort I managed to release an ear-piercing scream and Jimmy cursed furiously.

“Shut up you posh bitch or I’ll kill you!”

I fell silent again as my terror took hold and I lay still as Pete repeatedly tried to rip my pantalets. Finally he gave up and tried to poke his fingers into where my dingly would have been if I’d been a girl. When this failed because my pantalets were too strong and of course, I didn’t have a dingly, he cursed again and started trying to squeeze my bum. Despite the fear I started to feel sort of gooey as his hands pressed against the silky material of my pantalets rubbed my bum. It felt sort of strangely nice. I started to wriggle my bum but Pete misinterpreted my reactions. He thought I was trying to wriggle free and he pinched my bum as he cursed again.

“It’s no fucking good,” he cursed. “These bloody passion killers are soft as silk but as strong as fucking canvas. I can’t get a proper grip and I can’t even feel her properly. I’ll need a knife or something to get through them.”

“What you asking me for?” Cursed Jimmy “I don’t carry a bloody knife! Not since that business last month when we got arrested and cautioned. That fucking copper’s always bloody stopping me.”

“Well, there’s no way these bloody passion killers are coming off. I’ll try undoing this bloody corset thing.”

As Pete spoke, he tried to find a way of untying my corset but of course, the little padlock completely stymied his explorations. He let out another gasp.

“Fuckin’ hell. She’s bloody locked into this fucking corset. How the fuck am I supposed to get at her?”

Jimmy leant back and cruelly strained my neck as he bent over to study the little padlock in the small of my back.

“Shit! This is fucking weird. It’s like she’s wearing armour or summat!”

“Well there’s no way this bitch is going to get de-bagged. Try and feel her tits!” Suggested Pete.

Jimmy made a move to roll me over onto my back but at that moment he spotted one of the other sissies coming towards the patch of bushes as she searched for me. It was Jemima who was the ‘seeker’ and she had obviously heard my scream!

“Shit!” Cursed Jimmy. “There’s another of them! Let’s ger’ ourr’a here!”

Pete needed no second bidding. He was already frustrated by the complicated arrangements of my corset and pantalets so he pulled his hand from under my corsets, smacked my calves because he could not smack my arse under the corset then he bolted after his crony Jimmy. The moment I was free I let out another wail of distress and Jemima immediately located me as I struggled to lever myself up by grabbing the same fallen tree that had so successfully hidden me from view. Just as I managed to pull myself up and rise very unsteadily to my feet, Jemima arrived and recognised something was wrong. My muddied dress and tearful face were obvious signs of my distress not to mention the nasty red marks around my mouth.

“Gosh Michelle. What’s happened?” She gasped.

“Some boys! They attacked me!" I squealed hysterically."Look there they go, across by those goal posts.”

Jemima turned and spotted the sprinting boys but they were now too far away to be identified. Anyway, there was no hope of us corseted sissies ever catching them. Our corsets made sure of that. Instead, Jemima gave me a hug and started to help me clean myself up. She studied my mouth thoughtfully.

“Your lips, they’re all bruised darling. Come on, we’ll have to tell Mistress Portia.”

All thoughts of the game of ‘hide and seek’ were dropped as I minced painfully into the glade were the other sissies were gathered. I had somehow sprained my ankle during my struggles and Jemima had to support me as we minced unsteadily back to our group.

“What on earth’s happened?” Asked Mistress Portia as she studied my dishevelled muddied appearance.

“Some boys attacked me.” I replied tearfully. They put their hands up my dress and tried to do me.”

“Oh my gosh! Let me see.” Announced Mistress Portia matter-of-factly as she bent down to investigate my under things.
Without a thought for my modesty, I raised the hoops and layers of my petticoats and Mistress Portia checked me out. She clucked and tutted as she recognised the grubby hand marks where Pete had tried to feel me up and de-bag me.

“Well at least they didn’t manage to get at you. Your pantalets are intact. Would you recognise them again?” Asked Mistress Portia solicitously as she gently stroked my cheeks and wiped the tearstains away.

“Only by their voices and their names. They called each other Pete and Jimmy.”

“What about their clothes?”

“Jimmy as wearing a grey hooded top, but that’s all I saw. He forced my head down by ramming his fingers in my mouth and squeezing my lips.”

The bruising around my mouth confirmed my story and Mistress Portia nodded her head as she concluded the questioning and dialled the police on her mobile.

“Come on, we’ll get you back to the house and clean you up. These monsters need to be found.”

The afternoon games were immediately curtailed and we filed back to Victoria’s house where I was cleaned up and made presentable again.

After being cleaned up, I met a young policewoman and my Auntie Beverly who had been informed by mobile. She gave me a hug and reassured me for I had been terrified by the attack. The policewoman smiled to reassure me and asked a whole pile of questions before nodding sagely.

“We know who they were. It’ wont be hard to get them. The forensic doctor has just arrived so she will take some DNA samples. I’m afraid we’ll need to take away your underwear for testing.

My Auntie Beverly seemed a bit unsure of this idea but Victoria’s daddy was a special doctor and, because he was a transvestite himself, he was much more aware of the rights of transsexuals and alternative lifestylers. He nodded to agree with the policewoman and invited Auntie Bev to go upstairs and remove my pantalets. Upstairs as she helped me out of my dress and corset, Auntie Bev smiled to reassure me.

“Fortunately your pantalets are made of strong material and they are all-in-ones so he was unable to assault you. However, the police are taking your friend Jemima out in a car now and we’ll see if they can be found. D’you feel up to this?”

My thirst for retribution now gave me fortitude and I nodded angrily.

“Good girl,” reassured my Auntie Bev. “We’ll see things put right.”

With this decision taken, Jemima was put in the police car and driven around the neighbourhood until she spotted the likely culprits. In the mean time Victoria’s daddy garnished some forensic evidence from my mouth. A broken nail had been discovered in the frilly leg of my pantalets and it wasn’t mine. My nails were immaculate as well as being painted red. It was obvious that the nail must have been Pete’s. The Policewoman smiled with evident satisfaction.

“This will make excellent evidence. If it’s a DNA match it will go a long way to establishing he was assaulting Michelle.

“He must have broken it when he was trying to rip my underwear.” I added tremulously. “It proves he was trying to rip my pants off me.”

“Precisely young lady,” smiled the policewoman. You’re a smart little cookie aren’t you?”

As she spoke, another lady who was the police forensic surgeon arrived at the door. She and Victoria’s dad took some samples from my mouth for there were bloodstains around my cheeks and neither the forensic surgeon or Victoria’s dad could find no trace of any cuts to my face or mouth.

“It could quite possibly be the attackers blood,” observed the forensic surgeon as she turned to me. “Did you bite him or anything?”

“No. I was too afraid, but he might have cut his fingers on my teeth when he yanked my head back.”

“Quite.” She finished as she delicately swabbed the blood from my lips and cheeks. “There will obviously be your DNA here but if there’s any trace of your attacker, he will have the Devil’s own job trying to deny anything. You’ve been a very brave little girl. Especially by not removing the blood stains.”

I smiled gratefully as she carried out some more tests that I didn’t understand and finally she gathered up her equipment. As she prepared to leave she remarked to the policewoman.

“The blood and the fingernail are the best evidence, I think we’ll catch them very quickly. Their descriptions match.
The policewoman nodded and turned to Auntie Bev.

“D’you want to take her to hospital?”

“I don’t think there’s any need,” interrupted Victoria’s dad, “Do you want to go Michelle?”

I smiled and wagged my head as I replied.

“I’m not injured, just my ankle and that’s only a sprain.”

It was only then that I learned that Victoria’s daddy was a psychiatrist and had obviously qualified as a doctor before specialising in Psychiatric Medicine. The Policewoman knew him and knew of his work for he had often helped in sexual assault forensics. He agreed with the consensus and left, satisfied that the situation would have a successful outcome.

It did.

Jemima and the Police located the attackers and an excellent case was soon prepared against them.

The assault was deemed to be a homophobic attack and my evidence coupled with the forensic material soon had a strong case against the boys. Apparently the two of them already had a long record for other offences and their progression into sexual assaults was the final straw. It was exactly the sort of offence that the local police had been looking for to have these two young thugs sorted once and for all.

At the juvenile hearing it transpired that the pair had an endless string of offences against their names including several other sexual offences. The sexual assault against me was to be the final straw. They had reached an age when the courts were empowered to take proper action against them.

They were from broken homes and their single mothers conceded that the boys were getting beyond parental control. The courts ruled that the needs of pair would be best served in some sort of correctional institution. As we left the courts, Victoria’s father took Auntie Bev and me to a café across the street.

“They’ll be off the street for several years. I know that judge. His own daughter was attacked as a young girl and he shows no mercy towards sexual offenders. Because it’s a juvenile case, there was no jury and no press. His decision will be law. I’ll be speaking to him next week about the sentencing.”

“I didn’t know you were so tied up with the courts,” replied Auntie Bev.

“Well ever since my own son turned out to be a deviant abuser, I’ve come to realise that nobody’s perfect. However, the judge has been pleased with the behavioural reports about Jemima. The probation officer is a closet transvestite and also a friend of mine so Jemima’s case is not publicised. I’ll be seeing if I can get the judge to put those two miscreants into the same curative programme.”

“You mean have them sissified!” Giggled Auntie Bev.

“Don’t knock it if it works.” Declared Victoria’s dad. “Just look at Jemima, she’s perfectly behaved and become a genuinely solicitous, kind hearted young person.”

“Well, yes. I’m forced to agree on that,” continued Auntie Bev as she turned to me and smiled. “What d’you think Petal?”

“It’ll serve them right. They shouldn’t hit girls, - or sissies,” I added as an afterthought.

“Exactly,” agreed Victoria’s daddy. “I think Mistress Janet’s academy will serve them perfectly.”

“But, - but,” I pleaded, “what if they you know, -? What if they attack me again?”

“Oh believe me darling. Those two will not be able to attack anybody after Mistress Janet’s finished with them.”
I became frightened.

“Does she, - does she punish all the children?”

“Good gracious no my sweet. Good girls and good sissies are treated very well. Your auntie tells me you love being a sissy. Is that so?”

I nodded thoughtfully as I replied.

“I like wearing girl’s things. They’re just so much nicer than boy’s.”

“Well there you are then. Mistress Janet’s will be perfect for you. You can indulge your desires to your heart’s content and more importantly, if you grow up with a sissy body and shaped like a girl, you’ll always be able to wear girls clothes. Wouldn’t that be nice?

I nodded gratefully for the idea of being able dress and pass as a girl was one of my greatest ambitions. Victoria’s daddy recognised my appreciations and she smiled.

“Remember, girls and sissies can always wear jeans and shirts if they want. Girls and sissies have a much greater choice, especially if the sissies are shaped like girls and look like girls. Just imagine wearing tight stretch jeans but having those jeans stretched around a nice curvy butt. It’s just so much more attractive. Now finish up your juice. I’ve got a clinic this afternoon. I’ll probably see you at the club next Friday.”

I finished my juice obediently and Auntie Bev caught a taxi back to Uncle Penny's pub where we were staying. When Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie heard the outcome of the case they were very pleased for it was one more tiny, vital step on the ladder to emancipation for alternative life-stylers.

We stayed at Uncle Penny’s pub until the end of the school hols so Janice and I were free to indulge in all the delights that London had to offer a child. The holidays appeared to fly by and all too soon it was time for Janice and me to start our first term at Mistress Janet’s academy for young Ladies. Mummy drove home to our own house and we prepared for the new school.
During those last few weeks in London, I noticed my breasts beginning to ache and itch simultaneously. I wanted to rub and scratch them but instead, Auntie Bev bought some special cream to sooth them. I had to gently rub it into my breasts each morning and evening to sooth away the itching and aching Little did I know what else was in the cream that worked in tandem with the vitamin pill that Auntie Bev ensured I swallowed each morning and evening. I did notice though that by the middle of September, just before we started school, Auntie Bev had to get me fitted for a new corset. My waist was the same but my hips were slightly bigger whilst I noticed that the new, soft little cups were slightly larger and I was beginning to fill them. On the morning we were dressing to attend our first day at school, I turned to Auntie Bev after stepping into my corset.

“Are my tits getting bigger?” I asked, secretly hoping that they were.

“D’you want them to?” Countered Auntie Bev as she stroked my protruding nipples through the silky material of my new corset’s bra cups and smiled. I jerked with surprise and Auntie Bev smiled.

“Is that nice?”

I gasped and my knees sagged as her actions sent delicious thrills tingling down to my boy clitty.

“Oo-ooh yess! Gosh that’s just so-oo nice.”

“Well if your tits become bigger, those lovely little nipples will also become bigger and even more sensitive and you’ll really begin to like it.”

I couldn’t resist lifting my fingers to my nipples and gently stroking the sensitive nubbins through the soft silky cups of my corset. As I squirmed and gasped Janice watched thoughtfully for she quickly recognised my responses.

“Will mine grow like that?” She asked hopefully.

“Yes dear. But you’re a year and a bit younger so you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

“Aa-ah that’s not fair. I want mine to grow the same time as Michelle’s. After all, I’m a real girl!”

“Be patient darling.” Smiled Auntie Beverly indulgently as she kissed my sister Janice to reassure her. “By this time next year, you’ll have caught your sissy-brother up. Girls develop younger than boys. It’s all to do with biology.”

With a frustrated sigh, Janice stepped into her corset and then turned me around to fasten my laces before I returned the favour. Once I was fastened into my corset, Janice's eyes fell to my swollen breasts as they swelled in rhythm with my short shallow breathing.

“Gosh, your bra cup is quite full. You lucky thing.”

I leant forward and kissed Janice affectionately.

“Why that’s just the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thanks sis.”

She gently fingered my protruding nipples and I squeaked with delicious surprise.

“Ooh! Owooh that’s nice! Not too much though, it’s makes my boy clitty hard.”

At this interaction Auntie Bev interrupted our fun.

“Come, come now girls, you’ve got to get ready for school. We’ve got to be there before noon because you two will be weekday boarders. If you’re late, the full term boarders will get all the best rooms.”

This got Janice and I moving and soon we were driving along the country lanes to Mistress Janet’s academy.

Feed Me !

Michelle and Janice's first term at Mistress Janet's Academ in which they get to learn of the rules and regulation upon which the school is run.
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Chapter 11.

New School.

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.

By eleven o’clock Auntie Beverly was slipping smoothly through the gates to the new school. If one did not know of the place, it would have been easy to miss it. We had to turn off the minor B class road and drive a couple of miles down a winding country lane. Finally we arrived at a large ornate gateway that was somehow incongruous to the narrow winding lane.
It is customary for the old wealth and upper classes in England to be discreet about their wealth and Mistress Janet’s academy reflected that. Auntie Bev explained this as she drove us there that morning.

“The school was an old country house once belonging to a titled family but death duties and maintenance costs coupled with taxes had brought the family upon hard times. They had had to sell the old country estate and it had served as a perfect setting for Mistress Janet’s Academy.

The house was located down a long winding lane and set in it’s own extensive grounds behind a large boundary wall and dense woodlands. As we drove slowly along the drive up to the main building, Janice and I had plenty of time to study the set up.
Naturally, there were lots of cars parked on the spacious forecourt and dozens of parents were busy attending to their darling children, as they were re-uniting with friends or registering as new pupils. Dozens of the young ladies and sissies were giggling and prancing with excitement as they minced around hugging their old friends and acquainting themselves with younger siblings who were just starting. As our car was slotted into a parking space we could hear snatches of conversations between excited squeals.

“Your younger brother you say! Oh she’s adorable. Come on darling smile. You’ll be really happy here.”

I turned to see an older girl bending down to kiss a delightfully pretty sissy in a green dress as another girl smiled down. Obviously an older sister was introducing her voluntarily sissified little brother to her school friends.

The little sissy definitely seemed to like it and extended her lips appreciatively to receive the older girl’s adoration. The rest of their conversation faded away as the older girls led the sissy into the main schoolhouse. Auntie Bev ushered us out of the car and we emerged with great care ensuring we didn’t give any casual observers too much of an uninvited display of our delicious frilled petticoats and pantalets. Two older girls whom I recognised as Victoria and Sophia immediately approached us.

“Oh how delightful, you’ve arrived.” Squealed Victoria. Sophia will introduce Mistress Beverly to Mistress Janet whilst we get you some good rooms, come on, we’ve got you two a lovely double room in the west tower just one floor above our suite. We’re seniors now so Sophia and I get the best accommodation.

“Where’s Jemima and Angelica?” Asked Janice.

“Oh they arrive on the blue bus. That’s for the naughty boys who are being punished.” Replied Victoria as we loaded our suitcases onto a trolley and combined our efforts to trundle it into the lift. The cases were quite heavy and even though I was technically a boy, my little sissy arms were already somewhat atrophied from the effects of the pill. I would never have managed my luggage on my own so I was grateful for Victoria and Janice’s assistance. Soon we were ensconced in our room and then we were ushered down to meet Mistress Janet. Victoria cautioned us.

“Be courteous, speak softly, speak only when you are spoken to and remember to courtesy. Oh and you address her as Mistress Janet at all times, OK?”

We both nodded nervously and minced demurely down the wide staircase to join a queue of simpering sissies and girls all dressed in their pink or green prettiest finery. Janice and I smiled as we remained close to each other and we recognised that we were all dressed in identical designs. The others were all as equally nervous as us and we exchanged uncertain smiles.

Janice and I were glad we were together as we whispered to each other and swapped thoughts. The other pupils were all single children and Janice and I felt a little sorry for them. They must all have been desperately afraid. Then the door opened and the next child was ushered in.

The rest of us had to simply wait our turn. Finally it was our turn. The door opened and we both moved forward. The lady glanced down at us.

“Wait a moment, which one of you is first?”

Janice and I exchanged uncertain looks and Janice spoke softly.

“We are together Mistress, uhm,” (she glanced at the lady’s name card,) Mistress Jones.”

“Your names?”

We gave our names and she checked a list.

“Oh yes, the orphan twins. Your Auntie brought you?”

“Yes Mistress Jones,” I replied softly.

Mistress Jones looked down, nodded agreeably and ushered us in. We minced forward to stand in front of a large desk as a tiny slender lady stood up to study us. We both courtesied in perfect unison and she nodded but did not smile.

“Janice and Michelle Dalton,” Declared Mistress Jones. “A girl and a voluntary sissy.”

“Oh very good, we always like voluntary sissies here, it makes our business so much pleasanter.” Declared Mistress Janet as she resumed her seat.

She almost disappeared behind the desk and Janice and I had to crane our necks to get a proper view. Mistress Janet made a few notes and a third Mistress appeared from a side door. She ushered us away and registered us before returning us to Victoria and Sophia.

“Are you their minders?” She asked Sophia.

“Yes Mistress Davies.”

“Have they got rooms?”

“Yes Mistress Davies, they are sharing the big double room in the west tower above our suite.”

“I thought your sissy brothers Jemima and Angelica had that one.”

“They’ve been awarded single rooms next to ours. They earned some excellent brownie points last year.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, Angelica won the cup didn’t she?”

“Yes Mistress Davies,” replied Sophia proudly.

“Well they did very well. I’m glad that they’ve been rewarded, and your sissy brother Jemima, she won the best development award didn’t she?”

“Yes Mistress Davies, she developed the best figure and the nicest breasts.” Replied Victoria.

“Good! Good! Well physical development is mostly something of a happy accident but still, Jemima’s done very well. Have a nice time this year.”

“Thank you Mistress Davies,” Chorused Victoria and Sophia as they ushered us away back to our rooms. Janice and I made for the lifts but Sophia restrained us.

“Only seniors and mistresses are allowed to use the lifts. Juniors have to exercise.”

Janice and I suddenly realised we had three flights of stairs to negotiate and this in our tight corsets. We swallowed nervously for neither of us had ever attempted more than one flight of stairs before in our corsets. Victoria smiled supportively.

“You’ll soon get used to it. Just be thankful you’ve got your own double room, the naughty sissies have to sleep in the communal dormitory right on the top floor. You’ll see how they suffer when they arrive tomorrow.”

With Sophia and Victoria supervising our first effort, we finally arrived breathless and gasping on our landing. Sophia smiled affectionately as she gently supported my arm. I had almost had an attack of the vapours and my poor little heart fluttered uneasily as my constrained chest struggled through effeminate little gasps to recover from my oxygen debt. Even Janice was feeling a little feint and her corset wasn’t as tight as mine. We finally made it to our room and fell gasping on our beds. Sophia and Victoria sat on the ends of our beds until we had recovered then they gave us some advice.

“Practice a lot on the stairs every night. Take your time, stop when you need to and within a month, you’ll have it licked.
Now lunch is at one and supper is at seven. The best time to practice the stairs is after prep and before supper, that is between six and seven. There are also lots of other pupils around to help if you have the vapours. Come on, we’ll show you around the school now. There’s an hour before lunch. Do either of you want to go to the toilet?”
We both nodded so Victoria led us across the landing to the communal ablutions. As she loosened our stays and helped us lower our pantalets she explained.

“These junior lavatories are shared with the naughty sissies upstairs. Now you’ll have realised that as good sissies and girls you usually only wear waist length pantalets and chemises unless of course you prefer all in ones. Naughty sissies always have to wear all-in-one pantalets so they have the devil’s own job, stripping to go to the lavatory. You’ll often find pairs of naughty sissies almost naked with their senior minders in here as they attend to their bodily needs. Don’t be frightened. The naughty sissies will be more afraid of you than you need to be of them. You’ll understand why when you see a naughty sissy naked. And of course you’ll all be collectively naked when you shower. Remember, everybody in the same year showers together; that is girls and sissies alike. You will have to get used to each other’s bodies for sissies and their mistresses are often intimately tied together for the rest of their lives. Now go and relieve yourselves. There’s a lot to see and learn.”
Janice and I promptly relieved ourselves and washed before assisting each other with our corsets. Victoria checked that they were properly tightened and she grinned as she explained.

“Nice and tight, that’s good. Some sissies are like naughty ponies that try to swell out their tummies to make the saddle girth belt more comfortable. The sissies think they can make their corsets more comfortable by swelling their tummies so that it leaves the laces a little slack. Believe me, it’s a lost cause. If their waists aren’t down to the regulation sizes by the end of the year, they get fitted with punishment belts.”

“What are they?” Asked Janice nervously.

“You’ll see tomorrow. But don’t worry darling, it’s only naughty sissies who get punished. Good sissies won’t be punished and girls never have to wear them. It could affect their childbearing abilities in later life and we wouldn’t want that would we? Some of the naughty sissies will already be wearing punishment belts if they have been too reluctant and naughty.”
Victoria then turned specifically to me and frowned thoughtfully.

“Just make sure you never have to wear one Michelle. They stay on for a minimum of one year!”

I shuddered and promised myself I would always be a good little sissy. Victoria smiled as she sensed my thoughts whilst Janice was more solicitous.

“I’ll always help your darling. To stop you getting into trouble.”

We two ‘sisters’ hugged each other fervently and Victoria grinned affectionately.

“Come on now, there’s lots to see before lunch.”

We followed Sophia and Victoria obediently and were taken on a grand tour of the school. Victoria had been right. There was a lot to see. Firstly we were shown the gymnasium. In addition to the regular apparatus that I had seen in gymnasiums before, there were some very strange additional contraptions that were hard to place from the point of view of regular gymnastic activities. Janice stopped at one and asked Sophia.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a punishment bicycle for naughty sissies. Believe me you don’t want to ever want to get on one.”
Janice and I examined it and eventually worked out how it worked. The saddle was very strange. It had a hole in it where the rider’s butt would be centred and underneath the hole was a sort of bracket where obviously something was affixed. Victoria indulged our curiosity and opened a cabinet on the wall. From it she took out a strange sausage shaped thing.

“D’you recognise this?” She asked me.

I nodded for the device was obviously a reproduction of a boy’s erection except that it was much bigger than mine. Victoria nodded knowingly and then affixed the sausage to the bracket under the saddle of the bike. Sophia then turned the pedals and the sausage shape immediately started to poke up and down through the hole in the saddle. It was quite obvious that anybody riding the bicycle would have had to suffer repeated visits of the sausage thing into his or perhaps even her butt. Victoria explained further.

“There are up to four of these in the apparatus room. So if several sissies are naughty they are forced to race against each other. The first to cross the finish line gets to come off her bike and the remaining racers have to continue to the next line and so on until all the sissies have been thoroughly punished. Believe me, the sissies are extremely sore after a ride on these little beauties. And just look how big the dildos can be!”

“Dildos?” I asked.

“Yes dear. These sausage shaped things are called dildos. You’ll learn all about them.”

Janice and I stared fearfully at the assorted sizes for the largest ones were huge.

“Does that go up their bottoms?” Wondered Janice disbelievingly.

“Indeed they do. You’d be shocked at how big a dildo a well trained sissy’s bottom can accept.”

Janice and I fell silent. We were beginning to understand just precisely how cruelly a naughty sissy could be punished. And this was just one apparatus. The gymnasiums held about a dozen other contraptions!

By the time Victoria had explained the other machines, Janice and I were thoroughly alarmed. There seemed to be so many punishments and we hadn’t even begun to learn the rules yet.

Finally the lunch bell rang through the school and we minced behind Victoria and Sophia towards the dining hall.
In the afternoon some of our fears were abated.

The whole of the new intake was assembled in the great hall and the pupils were designated to their schoolhouses, next we received our textbooks and exercise books for lessons and finally we received a hard-backed little book that contained all the school rules and regulations. We were advised to familiarise ourselves thoroughly with this book because it was deemed to be the ‘Bible’ for all first year students as they felt there way through the maze of regulations.

“Without it,” cautioned Mistress Jones, “you will soon fall foul of the many punishments that can befall a recalcitrant student!”

Then we were dismissed and Janice and I made our way back to our room. On the second landing we decided to rest our fluttering chests and catch our breath as we gasped in our tight fitting corsets. For want of something to do we discreetly knocked on Victoria and Sophia’s door.

“Who is it?” Called Sophia.

Michelle and Janice,” we replied in soft unison.

“Wait a minute!” Replied Victoria.

We waited as instructed until Victoria opened the door and frowned slightly at us. She seemed a little red faced and somewhat put out at our intrusion.

“What d’you want? You shouldn’t be bothering senior girls unless it’s important.”

“We were on our way up to our room and we were a bit out of breath so we thought, -“

“Well don’t think in future, you silly little sissies. Just read your rulebook! You do not bother senior girls during prep!”
Janice and I were a little taken aback by Victoria’s brusque manner.

‘Whatever had happened to the kind helpful girl from that very same morning?’ We wondered. We apologised and resumed our way up the stairs until we reached our room and flopped breathless on our beds.

“What’s got into those two?” Wondered Janice aloud.

“I dunno,” I replied. “They must be busy doing prep.”

“What’s prep,” wondered Janice.

“I think it’s work you have to do at night in your room. The mistresses give you work and exercises to do then you have to hand it in.”

“But we haven’t been given any work yet!” Observed Janice.

“Then we’d better read our rulebooks,” I replied, “that’s what Victoria just said as well.”

We decided this was the only thing we could do so we both lay on our beds reading the rulebooks. It wasn’t long before we learned that there were some different rules for girls and the sissies were treated more harshly.

“That’s not fair,” I protested, “even your diet is different! You get meat every day but sissies don’t.”

“Well I don’t know why. Perhaps you’d better ask the mistresses.” Countered Janice.

I decided it might be better not to. If I was somehow to become accused of being ‘a trouble maker’ there was no knowing what sort of punishments I might face. The weird equipment in the gymnasium had already left its impressions upon me.
If I had but realised, I was already well upon my way to becoming a submissive, unquestioning sissy.

Janice and I continued reading until the supper bell called us down to eat and we minced downstairs unaccompanied to the dining hall. There we were confronted with place cards set out upon the tables. I realised that for the first time that day, Janice and I were to be separated. My sister and I debated whether we should ask to stay together but an older sissy in a beautiful green dress smiled at me and sat down next to my name card. She held out the other name card and explained.

“My name’s Julia. See, on the card. The cards are set out to help the first year pupils get to know older pupils and to help break down any barriers. You’ll be sitting next to me. Is this your sister?”

Janice nodded and attempted to smile invitingly. The big sissy got up from her place with a graceful ease and led Janice to a place card several tables away. I watched from my place as Janice sat between a senior girl and what appeared to be a middle school ‘naughty sissy’ in a blue dress. I was a bit concerned for her but the smiles they exchanged seemed pleasant enough. The big sissy returned as a very pretty middle school girl came and sat down at my other side.

“Hello.” She chirped.

“Oh hello.” I replied hesitantly before identifying myself. “I’m Michelle.”

“You’re new aren’t you?” She declared.

“Yes. It’s my first day.”

“Oh what fun!” She giggled. “You’ll really like it here. I’m glad to see that you’re a volunteer.”

“A volunteer?” I exclaimed curiously. “How do you mean?”

“A volunteer darling. A sissy who volunteered to become like us girls.”

I grinned at her misapprehensions and tried to explain.

“I didn’t really volunteer. I suppose I was born this way. I didn’t suddenly choose to become a sissy, I’ — I’ve always been this way, I’ve always liked girls clothes and girls things.”

The girl’s jaw sagged slightly as she stared then exclaimed.

“Oh! I thought, - I, -, oh never mind; my mistake.”

“No. Go on,” I smiled. I’d like to hear what you really thought.

“Well, I — I thought that sissies kind of, you know, - became jealous of girls and stuff, so they chose to try the nicer life style.”

It was my turn to giggle just as Julia returned. She looked down at the both of us as a questioning smile played about her soft ruby coloured lips. (Julia was wearing makeup.)

“What’s with you two?” She asked as she glided gracefully into her seat and composed the mountain of frilly ruffles to maintain her modesty. Her smooth easy mannerisms impressed me.

I started to explain but the middle school girl, (who still hadn’t identified herself,) interrupted.

“I was just explaining. I thought that green sissies volunteered willingly to be sissified but Michelle says she had no choice.
Her body told her that it was nicer in girl’s clothes.”

Julia gaped at the girl with mild surprise as she elaborated my explanation.

“Firstly my dear, what’s your name, I can’t see your name card.”

“Oh!” The girl slipped her delicate hand into her little purse and quickly pinned the tag onto her frock.”

“That’s better, - Sylvia,” replied Julia as she studied the nametag. “Now young Michelle is more or less right. Good sissies are those who realise that they like the sissy ways. It usually starts with wearing girl’s clothes, most often their sister’s, and then it progresses until they are discovered. If they are lucky, and their parents understand, then they might be very lucky and sent to this academy. That’s how it was for me, was it like that for you Michelle?”
I nodded and Julia continued.

“I was only six when it started. From that day onwards, I wanted more and more to dress as a girl. However, I’m not gay. I like girls, I like girls very much.”

Sylvia’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Oo-ooh! Have you got a sweetheart then, - here, in the school?”

“Oh young lady, you don’t seem to understand. Sissies very rarely have sweethearts. Sissies only serve their mistresses unless their mistress is very kind and chooses to indulge them with a bit of affection.”

Suddenly there was a tinkle of a bell far down the hall then a subdued scraping of chairs and rustling of petticoats as all the pupils stood gracefully. Mistress Janet had entered accompanied by the mistresses and senior girls. (I noted they were all girls except one very pretty sissy in a blue dress.) They took their places at the top table and everybody remained standing until Mistress Janet had completed saying grace. Finally the food was served by a team of middle school sissies who were all outfitted in severe blue uniforms as they walked with the most peculiar wiggle. It was quite obvious that they were severely corseted for they moved very nervously with tiny, mincing, careful steps.

“Why are they so slow?” I whispered to Julia.

“They are afraid of spilling any food. They’ll be severely punished if they do.”

“And they’re butt-plugged,” giggled Sylvia knowingly.

“What’s that?” I pressed after having heard the expression several times since becoming a sissy.

“They have a special plug inserted into their bum holes,” continued Sylvia, “so if they’re naughty or do something wrong, the plug punishes them.”

“How!” I gasped.

“It’s remotely controlled,” added Julia. “Do you see those senior girls at the other high table at the back of the hall?”

I craned my neck and nodded as I spotted a line of senior girls including Victoria and Sophia. Julia continued.

“Well each one of the senior girls has got a controller, like a television controller. They each control one of the butt plugs fixed inside the sissy’s butts and if their sissy makes a mistake then woe betide them. Just look how nervous and careful those naughty sissies are.”

Sylvia watched salaciously as the sissy serving our table cautiously minced her way towards us carefully pouring out the soup into each pupil’s plate. When she neared us I noticed that her hand was actually trembling and I thought she was going to spill some down my or Sylvia’s dress. Fortunately, Julia averted the situation. She reached out gently and steadied the sissy’s hand as she carefully took the weight of the jug momentarily so that the sissy could adjust her grip. A tiny tear of silent gratitude leaked from the serving sissy’s eye as she completed her task without spillage and moved on. I watched, fascinated by the exaggerated wiggling, mincing gait as she moved to the next pupils.

“Are they allowed to speak?” I whispered uncertainly.

“Only if spoken to,” replied Julia, “did you see her velvet collar?”

I nodded.”

“Well that’s like a dog’s anti-barking collar. If she speaks out of turn, then her minder can zap her throat and stun the vocal chords. She won’t be able to speak again until tomorrow morning. It’s very painful and she’ll have a sore throat all the next day.”

“Poor dab,” I replied sympathetically.

“Don’t you be so sympathetic! First find out why she was sent here.” Snapped Sylvia.

I was surprised by Sylvia’s vehemence but Julia tapped my wrist softly and wagged her head. It was obvious that Sylvia had suffered some sort of trauma from a boy and she was not sympathetic towards naughty sissies. Suitably cautioned, I fell silent and concentrated on my soup. It was quite delicious.

There followed a meagre main course and then a selection of fruit that we were allowed to take to our rooms. Julia advised me to take only a couple of fruits from the bowl so as not to display too hearty an appetite. If sissies were seen to be eating too much, it attracted the attention of the schools dietician and that was one step nearer to a punishment belt.

Thanking her for her excellent advice, I sought out Janice again and we stepped trepidly into the common rooms. After supper, we were allowed an hour of free association and we sisters indulged ourselves as we renewed acquaintances with Jemima and Angelica. We hadn’t seen them since arriving that morning and we wondered where they had been. They simply replied that they had been attending the induction classes for the upper school and said little more. I noticed however that Jemima and Angelic seemed a lot more tactile than during the summer hols and they cuddled together very affectionately on one of the saggy old sofas that had obviously seen years of service in the common room. Later, as we chatted with some newfound friends, Victoria and Sophia arrived.

“Have you done your stair exercises this evening?” Asked Sophia.

We confirmed that we had and they left again, obviously satisfied. Nevertheless, when we finally excused ourselves from our newfound friends, Sophia was waiting on her landing to see if our efforts at stair climbing had improved. She watched our ascent critically then followed us up to our room. I still collapsed upon the bed but at least I didn’t have an attack of the vapours. Janice simply sat at her desk to recover and Sophia nodded with satisfaction.

“You’re getting better. A few weeks and you’ll be ascending those stairs like a pair of young fillies. Do you need help with your corsets?”

“No thank you,” replied Janice. “We’re becoming quite adept.”

This said, we started to undress each other while Sophia watched and smiled. Once we were stark naked she glanced down at our secret places and smiled at me.

“Are you going to be completely sissified?”

I replied honestly that I didn’t know. I was not sure what Auntie Beverly had lined up for my future life. Sophia nodded and smiled as she directed us to the lavatories. There we were confronted by two older, middle school sissies who were accompanied
by a Senior Prefect. The prefect turned apologetically to Sophia who was after all a senior girl as well.

“So sorry, I didn’t realise that there were first year sissies in this block yet. I thought it was being reserved for the new intake.”

“Oh these are special,” replied Sophia, “they’re twins you see and the sister is delighted with her sissy brother. She’s a good sissy.”

“Oh how delightful. I see that she’s still blessed with a pee-pee. Is it to remain?”

“I think so,” replied Sophia. Our mothers were debating what to do with her but she’s been such a delightful little morsel that we all want her to keep it. There aren’t many like her in the school. Just look at them, they make a perfect pair.”

“Except for that sweet little morsel down there. Well, well, it’s such a pleasure to have a perfect sissy. Will she be functional?”

“What you mean the dairy farm?” Wondered Sophia.

“Well that as well, giggled the prefect. I’m sure a sissy with a functional pee-pee and with milk would be something really special. I mean just look at these two pathetic sissies.”

She motioned to the middle school sissies who turned respectfully to display a hairless almost totally smooth crotch except for the tiniest little pink nubbin were normally there would have been a thee or four inch flaccid penis and a pair of pendulous balls. The sissies stared enviously at my little pee-pee and the prefect laughed.

“There see! That’s what real boy sissies have. She may be tiny, but she’s still young. It’s still much bigger than those useless little nubbins isn’t it?”

The middle school sissies nodded respectfully but they couldn’t avert their envious gaze from my secret place. For a moment I began to feel embarrassed but then the prefect bent down and fingered both their tiny sissy nubbins and they gasped nervously as they started to respond. The prefect went on to explain.

“They failed the dairy test this morning so they’ve just been fitted with punishment belts. Their after-holiday hormone tests came out reading low. It appears they haven’t been taking their correct dosages during the holidays. Now their chickens are coming home to roost. Look how the fat around their waists is bulging where the belt squeezes them. Stupid girls! Now they’ll get stronger dosages of hormones and that might well affect the quality of their adult pleasures for the rest of their lives. They really have been stupid.”

Sophia wagged her head sympathetically as the sissies whimpered in futile remorse.

“They might as well be turned into dairy cattle.” Remarked Sophia.

“It was suggested, but I pleaded for them. I’m their minder for this year and this is their one last chance. If I can turn them around and make them into properly co-operative, submissive sissies, then it’ll mean extra points for me next year. I might get to be head girl.”

“If they’ve come this far and their still resistant, you’ve got the devil’s own job.” Observed Sophia.

“Don’t I know it!” Replied the prefect as she produced a small riding crop and whipped the sissy’s rounded peachy butts.

The two sissies whimpered then minced into the showers while Janice and I stared open mouthed. The prefect shouted after them to make sure they were each thoroughly clean before turning to Sophia and we two little ‘girls’. She smiled down at us and turned to Sophia.

“Well you’ve got a delightful job. Are you to be their minder?”

Sophia nodded as she explained.

“Vicky and I are minding these two and our own two younger sissy brothers, Jemima and Angelica.

“Huh, some girls get all the luck.” Sighed the prefect enviously. “Just look at what I’ve got to put up with?”

“Oh it’s not all play and fun,” replied Sophia. “We’re also the dormitory monitors for this house.”

“Oh of course. That’s why you’ve got the suite of rooms on this landing. Crickey you’ve got it big time this year. I’ve heard there are over forty new inductions.”

“Forty-eight to be precise,” replied Sophia, “and Vicky and I will be monitoring twelve of them.”

“Oh gosh. You’ve got your work cut out. I hope you haven’t got any as recalcitrant as these two.”

“Amen to that. What d’you think of these two little beauties?” Asked Sophia as she indicated Janice and I.

“I suppose there’s some compensation. They’re coming along well. Her little titties are developing nicely. It’s hard to believe she’s only eleven. Are they sensitive yet?”

“Oh yes, very! Try them.”

The prefect smiled and bobbed down with a stiff back as she gently fingered my hypersensitive nipples. I gasped and squeaked as my knees sagged then I became embarrassed as my boy-clitty started to stiffen. The prefect squealed with surprised delight.

“Oh my gosh. She’s hyper. Just look at that, a couple of touches with my fingers and she’s horny! Oh that’s just delightful.”

She reached out and gently pincered my rigid pee-pee between her finger and thumb nail and I whimpered nervously. The prefect smiled.

“Don’t worry darling, I’m not going to hurt you. If you’re going to keep her then it’s not my place to injure her. Do you like having a boy clitty?”

I lowered my eyes respectfully and nodded as I whispered yes.

“But you love sissy clothes and stuff?” She continued.

With my eyes still lowered respectfully, I nodded again.

“Oh she’s truly delicious Sophie!” Gurgled the prefect. “Does she like girls or boys?”

“Oh girls definitely.” Replied Sophia answering for me. “That’s been well established. She a heterosexual sissy.”

“Just like Julia.”

I looked up as curiosity piqued my interest.

“Is that the Julia who sat by me at supper?”

“The very same my little pretty. If you follow Julia’s example, you’ll do OK at Mistress Janet’s.”

I smiled inwardly. I had already grown to like Julia for she had been completely open and answered all my questions. I hoped I would see her again at Breakfast so I asked.

“Do we always sit in the same places for meals?”

“You do indeed, and you address me as plain Miss. Only the teaching staff are addressed as Mistress ‘X’ or Mistress ‘Y’”

“Sorry,” I apologised and repeated my question, “do we always sit in the same places for meals miss?”

“The prefect smiled and nodded.

“Yes unless you have been naughty or something. Ordinarily you’ll sit beside Miss Julia at each meal. Do you like her?”

“Yes miss. She’s nice and she’s honest.”

“Yes, she always was. Julia’s an excellent example of how a good sissy can turn out. She’s very bright, she hasn’t been bimboised and she hopes to study medicine.”

“What does ‘bimboised’ mean miss?”

(I persevered with the questioning whilst the prefect was in an expansive mood.)

“If a sissy proves to have undesirable traits, or she’s very distraught at being turned into a sissy. It often pays to arrest their cognisant development and channel their intellectual development down different channels. It’s a sort of mind control mechanism to ensure that the sissy becomes happier in her roll.”

“Oh.” I replied monosyllabically.

Sophia interrupted to reassure me.

“Don’t worry darling. Neither you nor Janice are going to be bimboised. You’re Auntie Bev was quite adamant about that.”

I sighed with relief and the prefect nodded with satisfaction before returning to her duty chastising the two middle school sissies in the shower.

“Have you two finished in there?”

“Yes miss,” they chorused as the shower door opened and the pair emerged all pink and glowing.

Once again, Janice and I could not take our eyes off their punishment belts. They were polished, ‘hourglass’ shaped, stainless steel bands that constrained their waists to a tiny fourteen inches. Both sissies were very well endowed in the breast regions and their buttocks swelled fulsomely from their tiny waists. We also noticed the tiny lock nuts that obviously needed a special key socket to undo them. There was no way a sissy could remove the belt without the right key. Both sissies were obviously in some discomfort as the prefect pointed to their all-in-one silky blue pantalets and ordered them to commence dressing.
The prefect noticed our curiosity and smiled.

“Don’t worry, the belts may seem tight now. However, they’re on a special diet and hormone regime. By the end of the year, these metal belts will actually be quite loose about their sissified waists. Just you wait and see.”
Sophia nodded confirmation. Obviously both of them had seen punishment belts before. As one last final indignity, the prefect flicked her riding crop against the sissy’s tiny little nubbins and the pair of them squealed with fear. It was simply an act to let everybody know that girls were in charge. Then they started dressing and there was soon nothing to show of the belts or any vestigial masculinity. Before they were enveloped in their frilly nighties, the prefect handed each sissy a large blue pill that the prefect made sure they swallowed and this was followed by a pink one that the prefect also made sure about. Finally, the sissies were led whimpering away as Janice and I turned to Sophia with a barrage of questions.

“What does bimboising actually do? How will their adult pleasures be affected? What does ‘turning them into dairy cows mean? Why have their sissy-clitties shrunk to almost nothing? Why do they have to take two pills? And so on, and so on. Poor Sophie was overwhelmed with our curiosity.”

“Steady on you two, I’ll explain tonight when you’re tucked up in bed, now do your ablutions them come down to our room. Victoria and I will dress you for bed and explain some of the regulations. You wouldn’t want to have to wear those punishment belts, would you?”

We visited the lavatory then shared a shower while Sophia checked out our night attire. Then she explained.

“This is the last time you’ll be able to have the showers and lavatories to yourselves. Tomorrow the naughty sissies will have arrived and it will be bedlam in here. Make the most of it.”

We acknowledged Sophia’s warnings and paid strict attention to her instructions, as we were pantied, corseted and finally enveloped in our gorgeous nighties ready for bed. Sophia then led us down stairs were Victoria had just prepared some drinking chocolate. We were made to sit on the upright chairs, while Victoria and Sophia sat cuddle together on the sofa as they answered all the questions.

“Right you little scamps, now about those questions. One at a time please.” Declared Sophia.

Janice started first and asked.

“What does bimboising do?”

Sophia explained.

"Some boys furiously resist being sissified despite the court’s sentence. Their resistance can be come so ferocious that it can induce a state of mental trauma and cause a nervous breakdown. In these extreme cases, the boy has to be pacified and made co-operative with psychotropic drugs. These drugs alter their state of mind and gradually divert their thoughts to more feminine activities. For instance, if the boy was a fanatical football player or a violent abuser of girls, the drugs will gradually bend his psyche around so that he, or more properly she, will start to become more interested in her body and her appearance. She will become fascinated with the state of her nails and the colour of her nail varnish. She will begin to get concerned about the size of her butt. Allsorts of feminine preoccupations will begin to fill up her mind. The psychotropic drugs are interlocked with female hormones that lock onto the X chromosome. The poor sissy can’t help becoming bimboised, because every boy has an X chromosome. You understand of course, girls are XX and boys are XY.”

I nodded but Janice had never been taught biology because she was still only nine. Sophia smiled indulgently and explained to Janice that she would learn all about biology in good time. Mistress Janet’s academy offered an excellent scientific education to those who could benefit from it.

I asked the next question.

“What did the prefect mean about adult pleasures being affected?”

Victoria let out a little snort of amusement before explaining.

“Well you know what adult pleasures are, why your Auntie Beverly told me herself that both of you share a precocious puberty. You both enjoy orgasms don’t you?”

I nodded as the answer began to dawn on me while Victoria elaborated.

“Well if a sissy is extremely unresponsive, it is sometimes necessary to persuade him by other means.
Doctor Anderson, - she’s the school physician, has some special drugs that can turn off all the hormones in the body and reduce the patient to an androgynous, sexless automaton. The individual can neither enjoy an orgasm or feel anything in her breasts or enjoy any kind of pleasure that even the most sissified sissy gets to savour. The victim is reduced to a frustrated bundle of hypertension who is utterly unable to assuage her unremitting urges. Normally, a year in such a condition reduces a recalcitrant sissy to the most pliable and amenable sissy there could ever be. Then, when the castration drugs are stopped, and the psychotropic drugs introduced, the individual can be turned into almost anything the mistress desires. By the time the sissy leaves here, she is completely a creature of the mistress’s whim or desires. The nicest thing about it is that the sissy can comprehend of no other condition and find no other enjoyment save that which the mistress ordains. Their minds are completely locked into the mistress’s need.”

“You mean like zombies.” Shuddered Janice.

“Well not quite darling,” added Sophia, “such a sissy can function as a perfectly normal member of society until her mistress determines otherwise. She can be a hairdresser, or a shop assistant or even just a dairy cow, until her mistress has need of her services.”

“Oh yes,” I interjected, “what’s all that about being turned into a dairy cow?”

“Ah!” Exclaimed Victoria. “That’s a particularly interesting part of Mistress Janet’s academy for young ladies.”

She hesitated for effect as Janice and I hung on her every word.

“Mistress Janet keeps a special dairy herd here at the academy.”

Neither Janice nor I had seen any cattle in any fields so we were curious. Victoria Hesitated for more effect before continuing.

“You know that delicious soup you had for supper?”

We both answered ‘yes’ in perfect synchrony.

“Well, that soup is made with a very special milk. It’s human milk. In fact, it’s sissy milk.”

“Sissy milk! What’s that?” I pressed.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s a by-product of the special pills that all sissies have to take if they are to become sissies.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Well, you’ll have no doubt noticed that all the sissies from the third year up are all very well endowed in the breast areas.”

I nodded as Victoria paused again for effect.

“Well that’s because when a sissy’s breasts start to grow they also start to produce milk. Not straight away of course but only after they have reached a certain size. That is approximately when they grow to somewhere between a ‘C’ and a ‘D’ cup. That’s usually at the end of the second year or beginning of the third year, or about thirteen to fourteen years of age.”

“What! All the sissies?” I squeaked.

“Yes, all the sissies and some misses as well, if their parents have decided to have them bovinised.”

“Bovinised! What does that mean?”

“It comes from the word bovine, which means ‘like a cow or cow-like’.”

“You mean like canine for dog and feline for cat,” I added.

“Exactly. Gosh you are a bright little sissy aren’t you? We’re going to have to watch you. Are you sure you’re only ten.”

“I’m nearly eleven, but small for my age. That’s why everybody thinks Janice and I are twins.”

“Well, we won’t tell. It’ll be really nice having you two under our wing and watching you grow.”

“Will I make milk?” I asked, secretly hoping I would.

The idea of fulfilling yet another truly feminine roll, sent delicious little tingles from my stiffening nipples to my growing boy-clitty. Victoria nodded and smiled.

“Oh yes. None of the sissies are exempt. It comes with the territory I’m afraid. Once you join the sissy herd, you have to go to the dairy block twice a day to be milked. Take a look in the morning, you’ll see all the middle school and senior sissies crossing the playing fields to that nice new block over there. Most of it is the new science block but downstairs is devoted entirely to milking machines, just like a dairy shed on a farm.”

I stared out of the window but in the failing light, there was little to see. Just a couple of very well-endowed senior sissies mincing slowly back to their rooms after having been the last ones to be milked.

‘They must be having a late supper or an early one,’ I surmised.

Victoria smiled and nodded towards the latecomers.

“That’s Jacqueline and Rosanna. They’re the best milkers in the school herd. It always takes an hour or more for those two to be emptied. Then they get special rations and retire to bed early. They are even exempt from evening prayers. Producing that much milk takes a lot out of a sissy.”

I studied them again and watched their huge breasts wobbling. No wonder they minced so slowly. Sophia joined me at the window.

“Would you like to grow like that, with huge wobbly breasts?”

“Uhh-hmm. I don’t think so. Some milk yes, but they’re like Holsteins.”

“Well that’s almost exactly what they are darling.” Replied Sophia. “Both Jacqueline and Rosanna have been bovinised. They’re not much more than cattle. They can talk and stuff but don’t ask them to try and do any sums or pass an exam. They’re pretty dumb. They’d have serious trouble passing a driving test. However, they’re very contented and they always smile. Plus of course, they’ll always do anything for you. They’re so nice they just can’t refuse a request. The trouble is, their minder has to protect them or other student’s might abuse them. They’re really just like clever pets, but, that’s what their mistress has ordained so that’s what they’ll be when they leave here. I believe the mistress runs a crá¨che and needs two wet nurses to feed the babies. When they’re not feeding the little ones, they’ll be caring for them. So they’ll be very contented sissies.

They’re always’ first in the queue in the morning.”

I couldn’t wait to see the milking queue in the morning, for I had fond memories of the cows queuing up on the farm back home and lowing urgently to be milked. Often their udders were leaking if the farmer was late and I wondered if sissies got the same leakages if they were delayed from being milked. I turned to Sophia and asked.

“Do they start to leak if they haven’t been milked?”

“Oh yes! Especially if they’re late for milking and look as though they might miss lessons.

Sometimes, if they are very late, they are not milked as a punishment until lunchtime and they have to forgo lunch or suffer the consequences of a very painful udder. They always forgo lunch and make a dash for the dairy to be emptied. Swollen breasts with leaking milk are very painful.”

“Poor things,” I sighed.

Sophia smiled and kissed my forehead softly.

“Well, you’ll learn all about it by the end of your second year or the beginning of your third. Now, off to bed with you. Sweet dreams.”

“But you haven’t answered all our questions,” protested Janice.

“Tomorrow night darling. It’s getting close to your bedtime. You’ve a busy day tomorrow, especially with all the naughty sissies arriving.”

Reluctantly we slipped off the chairs, picked up the trailing hems of our long frilly nighties and minced off up the stairs to our own room. Unexpectedly Sophia followed us up and when we turned to ask her why, she explained.

“I always keep a promise, so I’ll explain the other issues you wanted to know about. Come on, into bed.”

“Can we share a bed?” Whispered Janice hopefully.

“Why not,” smiled Sophia, “Victoria and I do.”

“Oh. Doesn’t Mistress Janet object?”

“Of course not darling. What harm can come of it? You’re well corseted and locked up tight. Enjoy your cuddles.”

I smiled with delight and asked the final question, namely why did sissy’s clitties shrink into such small nubbins. Sophia giggled and explained.

“It’s what makes them real sissies darling. The pills they take cause their pee-pees to shrink and their balls to shrink so that by the time they are thirteen, they have virtually nothing. Then they can never be a danger to their mistresses or other ladies. Also, most of them have their plumbing re-directed so that nothing can come out of their little nubbins.

Their foreskins are removed, that is circumcised so that the little purple bell becomes nothing but a sort of starter button. If you stroke it or suck it the sissy begins to get excited and she feels a sort of squishy, yummy feeling in her tummy.”

“Yes I know that. A sissy called Miranda explained that when we were being fitted out for school.”

“Oh! You’ve met Miranda. She was a lovely sissy.”

“She’s working in a shop called Miss Sterns.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. She had an excellent eye for fashion. She was trained as a seamstress and always turned out some beautiful creations. I’ve still got several that she made for Angelica and me but I’ve grown out of them now. I’ll bring them back next term and we can see if they fit you or Janice.”

“So it’s the pills that make them shrink then.” I responded thoughtfully.

“Yes dear but don’t worry. If you are to keep your little pee-pee then they’ll give you different pills. Each sissy has a special prescription depending on her destiny.”

With these reassuring words, Sophia kissed Janice and me goodnight and we cuddled together in the fading light as Sophia’s heels clacked purposefully down the stairs.

As we embraced we noticed the breeze gently sighing through the castellations at the top of our tower. Janice giggled and whispered.

“If the wind blows hard in the winter it won’t half moan around those turrets.”

“We’ll be like babes in the castle,” I replied as we snuggled up together.

It had been a very tiring day and we soon fell asleep in each other’s arms. In the morning we awoke feeling quite refreshed and we smiled at each other as we gradually came to.

“Did you sleep OK?” I asked Janice.

“Mm-mm! Did you?” She yawned and stretched as she replied.

I stretched out beside her and gently stroked her as we gradually came to. Then I fingered my corset and giggled.

“I must be losing weight or something. My corset feels quite comfortable.”

“You’re probably just getting used to it.”

“Yeah. That must be it,” I agreed as we helped each other get upright and dug our toes into our slippers.
Naturally, our first act was to relieve ourselves and this necessitated a visit to Victoria and Sophia’s suite of rooms. We minced down the stairs and knocked softly on their door.

“Who is it?” Called Sophia.

“Michelle and Janice. We need to unlock our corsets.”

“OK. The door’s not locked. Come in.”

Janice and I exchanged eager smiles. We needed no second invitation for we were eager to see if Victoria and Sophia really did sleep together. Our curiosity was answered as we stepped cautiously into the room. It was empty but Victoria’s voice hailed us from the bedroom.

“In here darlings. Don’t be frightened.”

We exchanged more grins and approached the bedroom door. For a second we hesitated then I took the plunge and opened the door. Sure enough, Victoria and Sophia were contentedly embracing each other and they did not even separate as we came in.

Sophia simply smiled invitingly and twisted her head around as she invited us both to sit on their bed with our backs to them. From under her pillow, she produced our corset key attached to a length of chain and fastened to their bed. It was obvious that both Janice and I, as well as any other sissies in their care, would have to attend at the bedside to be unlocked from our sleeping corsets each morning. The night before, they had simply snapped the locks shut in the bathroom but this way ensured that we presented ourselves at their bedside every morning.

We obeyed her instructions and sat on the side of the bed while she unlocked us.

“Thank you miss,” I remarked as Sophia slipped the key and chain back under their pillow and dismissed us.

“That’s a good sissy,” replied Sophia, “but always remember to address us as ‘mistress’ and you won’t go far wrong. You address other senior girls as miss but we are your mistresses and mentors. Janice need only say thank you without having to say miss or mistress. That’s because she’s a girl.”

Janice crimsoned momentarily for in her haste to relieve herself she had forgotten to say ‘thank you’. She paused apologetically at the door and swallowed nervously.

“Oh! Yes. Sorry. Thanks Sophia.”

“That’s alright Sweetypie, just don’t forget in future.”

With these admonishments ringing in our ears we minced urgently away to complete our ablutions. That first morning, we had the whole dormitory showers and toilets to ourselves so we soon completed our duties and returned to our bedroom to get dressed. Of course, we had forgotten to take our stockings, suspender belts, pantalets and day corsets with us to the bathroom so we had to slip across the landing and up the stairs naked. Fortunately nobody saw us.

Once we had dressed in our lingerie, we stepped into our corsets and laced them as tight as we could before presenting ourselves again to Victoria and Sophia to have them checked for tightness and fit. When Victoria pulled at my laces she smiled knowingly.

“My! My! Michelle! Do you know this corset is getting too big for you?

“Is it mistress?”

“Why yes indeed, the lace holes meet at your waist and it can be tightened no further. Your waist is just perfect.”

“But, my, - my, - my boobies mistress; I mean they’re still a bit small. The cups I mean, I don’t fill them yet.”

Victoria shook her head dismissively.

“Oh don’t worry about your boobies Petal. They’ve got years of growing. But your waist is just perfect, why we might even have to get you a corset with smaller waist. I can actually get my finger in there.”

She gently inveigled her finger between my waist and my corset and tickled me for devilment. I let out a squeal of amusement and wriggled like a tormented child.

“Stoppit please Mistress! That tickles!”

Victoria continued tormenting me for a few seconds and I was soon squealing with delight. Then I started to run out of oxygen because my corseted chest was still constrained by the tight bodice. Only my waist had shrunk. I started to get an attack of the vapours and gasp for breath. Victoria’s amused expression turned to concern as my eyes started to glaze over and I promptly feinted.

“Oh dear! She’s feinted. Quick! Slacken her laces while I get the smelling salts!”

Sophia promptly produced a small bottle, removed the lid and waved the bottle under my nose, whilst Victoria loosened my stays. Soon I was coughing and gasping as I recovered consciousness. As my eyes watered from the fumes, Victoria leaned over me and smiled.

“Well! Well. We are a delicate little sissy aren’t we? We’re going to have to take great care with this one Sophie.”

“Why yes indeed. She’s such a sweet, tender little morsel. We mustn’t let those rough, naughty, new sissies get their hands on her must we Miss Victoria.”

Sophia grinned as she turned and smiled enigmatically.

“You’ll need protecting young lady!”

I swallowed nervously as I recovered my composure and Victoria resumed fastening my laces. When she had finished she pulled the tape measure tightly around my reduced waist and grinned as she held up the tape.

“Congratulations Michelle. That’s only thirteen inches. Twelve inches is the minimum Mistress Janet lets any sissy go down to. Anything under twelve inches is deemed dangerous to your health.”

I savoured Victoria’s praise then she spanked my corseted bum and shooed me back to our room.

“Go and get dressed now, didn’t you say you wanted to see the dairy herd queuing up?”

“Oo-oh yes!” Squeaked Janice. “I’d almost forgotten!”

We needed no more persuasion and within minutes, we were smartly attired in our pink and green frills, standing outside Victoria and Sophia’s room again ready for them to show us the parade.

“Good girls, that was quick. Come along now. Follow us.”

We minced eagerly along behind the senior pair as they led us out of the dormitory block, across the quad and round the back of the school then across the playing fields. As we picked our way delicately across the damp morning dew, Janice asked why the dairy block was so far from the rest of the school.

Sophia smiled as she explained.

“Cattle always come in from the field to the dairy. It’s Mistress Janet’s way of reinforcing the dairy herd image in all sissies. If it’s raining or muddy, the dairy sissies then have to clean the mud off their feet before returning to the school.”

“And do all sissies have to become members of the herd?” Pressed Janice.

“Yes, their destiny is to fulfil some sort of nurturing roll, or to provide milk for other consumption.”

I smiled and hugged my self with anticipation at the thought of somehow being able to provide milk to help sustain another. If I could never have a baby, at least I could mother one.

Victoria sensed my excitement and observed.

“All of Mistress Janet’s sissies eventually choose to become milkers voluntarily.”

“Voluntarily?” Wondered Janice who at only eight years of age didn’t understand the word.
Victoria explained.

“Voluntarily means they choose to do it of their own free will; they volunteer.”

I wanted to secretly hug myself with delight. The thought of being able to give milk like a real woman was sort of exciting to me. It was one step nearer to being able to function as a woman. Despite this secret ambition, I knew that I still wanted to keep my boy-clitty and I was glad that Auntie Bev had chosen for me to remain ‘entire’. I was so looking forward to becoming a full-blown-sissy!

Eventually, we arrived at the dairy block. Fortunately, there was no mud on the playing fields yet. The summer hols had rested the grass and the fields were in pristine condition. Only the light September dew added a damp sheen to the closely mown surface. Outside the block we joined some other groups of first year girls who were also being taught about the school’s ‘dairy farm’.

We all eagerly anticipated the early morning parade of the ‘sissy herd. Eventually, the sissies started to appear from different parts of the school then they gathered into larger groups and started slowly mincing their way across the hockey field. Janice and I watched fascinated.

“Why don’t they hurry?” I asked Victoria.

“It’s a bit difficult for them. They make lots of milk during the night and their breasts become very full and heavy with milk.

If they bounce around too much they start to leak milk and that stains their corset cups.”

I fell silent as the sissies slowly approached then started to gather at the dairy block door. They were forced to wait and I noticed several sissies start to fidget with their bra cups as their faces started to grow red.

“What’s wrong with those sissies over there Mistress?” I asked. “They look sort of bothered.”

“They are desperate to be milked.” Replied Sophia. “Look there’s Julia, your table companion. She looks very distressed.”

I saw Julia just as she noticed me. She gave me a wan smile and briefly waved to me before returning her hand to her breast.

“She’s holding her breasts,” I remarked.

“If she’s really desperate, she’ll be squeezing her nipples just like we girls sometimes try to squeeze our legs if’ we’re desperate to pee.”

I stared fascinated as Julia started to fidget feverishly and kept cupping her breasts in some desperate move to prevent her milk leaking. Eventually her tortured frown turned to a gasp of relief as she heard the bolt sliding and the dairy door opened. Julia almost fell through the door in her eagerness to be milked. As we watched, Victoria remarked.

“They behave just like cattle don’t they?”

“So would your dear,” chuckled Sophia, “if you were desperate to be milked.”

“I suppose they are a bit better behaved than cattle. They seem to allow the most desperate ones first. There’s no bullying or pecking order.”

“Oh look!” Cried Sophia. “There’s Charlotte and Lucy, they’re real girls. They don’t seem to be unduly stressed, call them over.”

Victoria gave a little wave and the girls smiled back as they minced over.

“Hello you two.” Squealed Sophia as they fell into each other’s arms and hugged each other tight. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since we started back.”

“I know. It’s been so busy.”

“So you two are still milking then.”

Charlotte and Lucy nodded and smiled contentedly, then gave Sophia another brief peck on the cheek and made their excuses to rejoin the sissy herd. Victoria wagged her head uncomprehendingly.

“Some girls are weird. Who would want to just keep giving milk all the time, I mean, they say the nipple care alone is a real chore.”

“What d’you mean mistress?” I asked.

“Well sometimes if you’re giving milk, your nipples become cracked and sore. It can get very painful.”

“What? All the time?”

“Oh no. Not all the time, just some girls. Sometimes a mother just has to give up and bottle feed her baby.”

“Yeah, but that’s when a milking sissy is so useful,” countered Sophia. “Just imagine a mistresses’ joy at discovering that there are sissies for hire with plenty of natural milk.”

“Oh yes,” agreed Victoria, “but that only applies to mistresses who understand and own a sissy. They can’t be hired out to just everybody.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I know of several instances were sissies were hired out as wet nurses and the real mother never even found out that the wet nurse was a sissy. After all, unless you know beforehand, you’d never suspect it. Even if a mother checked under a sissy’s frock she wouldn’t really see anything to seriously alarm her. I mean you have to actually part their legs and take a good close look to realise that there’s no openings like a woman. Mistress Janet does a damned good job of sissifying boys.”

“Yeah. That’s true.” Conceded Victoria as she looked down and smiled at me. “Just like this little darling. You’re beautiful, aren’t you Peaches?”

I smiled and Victoria extended her fingers as if threatening to tickle me again. I gave a little squeak and giggled as I hid behind Janice's pink frills.

“Well, darlings, have you seen enough?” Asked Sophia.

Janice and I nodded and grinned just as Jacqueline and Rosanna arrived to be milked. Janice and I could not but stare at their enormous breasts and the two over-endowed sissies smiled contentedly as they minced slowly along hand in hand.

“Why aren’t they in a hurry?” Asked Janice.

“Oh they’re prize milkers. Their breasts are so large that they rarely get over full.”

“They don’t talk much,” I observed suspiciously.

“Oh they’ve been bovinised.” Replied Victoria. “There’s not much going on upstairs, but they’re happy and contented and they love children. They’ve got enormous patience with babies but they’re not much good with older children.”

“Why’s that,” asked Janice.

“Well they’re just too thick to provide any intellectual stimulus for a growing child. Any child over the age of six or seven
could leap over their heads.

“Aaahh, poor things,” I cried.

“Oh don’t feel sorry for them. They are the most contented pair of sissies in the school. All their needs will be provided for when they leave here as I explained last night. Besides, they weren’t that bright when they came here. They were just a pair of dim-witted bullies who had to be punished for beating up some girls. They almost murdered two of the girls, so it’s best this way. Now they’re harmless and contented. Besides, they get to share lots of adult sissy pleasures because they always surpass their milk quotas. With those tits how can they not?””

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well, sissies are always milked in pairs,” continued Victoria,” when you’re older, you’ll have it all explained, though for you it’ll be a little bit special having a proper little boy clitty and all. Anyway, if the pair of them produce enough milk, they are given a special little treat and they get to share a delightful orgasm after being milked. That’s why all the sissies love to continue being milkers. It’s also why sissies form close tight-nit friendships. Once you find a milking partner who produces a lot of milk, you tend to hold on to each other. Then you always fulfil your joint milk quotas and get to be rewarded.”
By now, we were almost at the school block and I wished I had been bold enough to watch the milking. It was not to be however. Apparently, only milking sissies could watch each other being milked.

Once inside the dairy block, the sissies and senior girls shared all the milking tasks and attended to each other with an intimacy and tenderness born of the shared activities and delights. The process was far too intimate and private to be turned into some sort of public spectacle. The secrecy surrounding the dairy block and the milking process added to the mystery and anticipation for the younger pupils. It was all part of the rites of passage in Mistress Janet’s academy. I really wished I could become a milking sissy straight away but it was made abundantly clear to me that I had to develop substantial ‘C’ or ‘D’ cup breasts before I could be introduced to the delights of milking. I had two years or more to wait!

Chapter 12 goes into detail about aduse and control of abusive boys being turned into sissies.
Some might wonder why I, a child abused similarly in Borstal, might even go near such material.
I have no certain idea why I wrote this exceedingly dark chapter, but at the time it seemed to have some theraputic, carthatic function. I felt anger and frustration as well as guilt when I wrote this chapter and I seriously debated including chapter 12 on BC, especially after some of the reactions to my blog about the 'Sissy Word'

Never having gone near a psychiatrist since escaping their clutches as a teen-ager, I have no idea how or why I wrote this chapter. It is extremely explicit and very, very dark.
I had some issues posting it here and may yet remove it if it hurts too many. However, after crashing into one continuity catastrophy with the later chapters 22 to 26, it's too much effort to re-write and exclude this chapter.

If such abuse and violence distresses you, I advise you not to read it. When I wrote this chapter orignally, I sat alone for hours and cried for hours but, in my own bizarre world, I deemed those tears theraputic. (It seemed that way anyway.)
You will note that the abuses are translated to abusive boys who had been abusers, a sort of transferred requittal in my own mind to somehow punish those who will never be punished.

I won't say 'enjoy' for many won't; that is if they choose to read through it at all. Also,despite the good advice offered to me about delaying each post up to three days, I want to get through some of these chapters early and get the story 'out of the way'

I haven't included a picture of Sushi in this chapter. I feel I would be dishonouring her innocence and affections by somehow attaching her in any way to such a dark chapter.

If this chapter causes distress, please tell me and if enough readers do so then maybe I'll take it down.

Beverly.

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The Sissy Farm

Chapter 12

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.

New Arrivals.

After visiting the sissy herd so early in the morning, we returned to our rooms for an hour’s prep before breakfast. This was to ensure that the entire sissy herd had been milked and that all the pupils arrived at the same time for breakfast.
This turned out to be a very substantial meal. Even sissies were allowed to eat plenty of food including a small portion of bacon. I was fascinated by the amount of food that Julia packed away and wondered just how she managed to keep such a trim waist. Between shovelled mouthfuls Julia explained.

“It’s the milking darling. It makes huge demands on our sissified bodies. You’ll understand when it comes to your turn.
Our metabolisms are accelerated with special lactation hormones and we have to consume at least three thousand calories a day to meet our milk quotas.”

“Gosh! Doesn’t that wear you out or something?” I gasped.

“Oh no! It’s a lovely feeling. Just you wait darling. It’s just so much fun.” With that, I was surprised to see the senior girls going along the tables and handing the sissies several large chocolate covered biscuits. The milking sissies eagerly took them and devoured them with relish.”

“What are those?” I asked Julia.

“Milk biscuits.” She replied between biting and chewing the biscuits “Just like farmers feed high protein dairy nuts to their cattle, so we have these. They’re very tasty.”

“Ooh! Can I try one?”

“Sorry love,” replied Julia, “ these are important to keep up my milk production. If I fail to produce my quota, my milking friend Alison will suffer as well as me. We can’t let each other down.”

I nodded understandingly as Sylvia, our girl companion, gave a little sniff and giggled.

“What are you laughing at,” I asked her.

“Huh. You’ll see. Just wait until you’re turned into a dairy queen. They all turn out the same. Dumb and horny.”
Julia wagged ger head and smiled at me.

“Don’t you believe her darling. She’s only a second year girl. She doesn’t know anything about being in the dairy heard. If you want a girl’s point of view, speak to Charlotte and Lucy. They’re very contented senior girls but extremely bright. They just like being milked.”

“But what about Jacqueline and Rosanna.” I continued. “Sylvia’s right about those two. They really are like two cows.”

“Ah yes,” agreed Julia, “but they were bovinised as soon as they came into milk. They really were a most distasteful pair of young thugs. They got what they deserved. Besides, they’re extremely happy now. Just ask them sometime. They’re a perfectly delightful couple now.”

“Yes. Everybody says that.”

“Well speak to them tonight in the common room.” Replied Julia as she finished her last chocolate covered milk biscuit. “They can always be found staring at the television. They don’t do much prep. ‘The ‘Janet and John’ reading books are about the limit of their academic aspiration and they even find that difficult. OK for six-year-old’s but hardly what one expects from two seventeen-year-old sissies.

They were both pretty thick even before they came here. Come on, it’s nearly nine o’clock.” Observed Julia as she rose gracefully from her seat. “The new intake of naughty sissies will be arriving soon. We have to provide a reception committee.”
Sylvia and I followed Julia into the great hall were we were sorted into our classes and grades prior to witnessing the arrival of that year’s intake of naughty sissies, that is boys who were being sent here to be punished and transformed. Once we had been assembled and graded into classes, the whole school was led in neat, obedient crocodiles down to the huge stable block that had once served the old country house. Obviously, the old landed gentry who had previously owned the house had been keen appreciators of horses. The stable block was almost as big as the old country house itself. Finally we were lined up in orderly formations and ordered to wait.

We did not have to wait long. A convoy of three buses threaded their way slowly through the school gates and gently scuffed their way up the long gravel drive. The drivers then carefully threaded their buses through the narrow arched gateway into the old stable block and the buses eventually came to a stop in the old stable yard. Immediately, the prefects closed and locked the huge gates and the stable courtyard had now become a virtual prison.

Mistress Janet emerged from a door connecting the stable block to the old country house, - now the main schoolhouse.
Arranged like phalanxes either side of her were two rows of the mistresses and they marched purposefully towards the buses.
She had obviously arrived to conduct the proceedings and she took a prominent position in front of the three buses. She and all the other mistresses each held a short riding crop in their hands. Their obvious objective was to intimidate the occupants of the buses.

For long moments, nothing seemed to happen, then, slowly, a frilly blue dress, identical in style to our pink and green dresses, appeared at the top of the steps inside the bus. The owner of the dress was obviously terrified and it was another few seconds before the owner’s face appeared in view.

I was surprised. The person was quite obviously a boy. He had short hair, well-muscled legs, and a very tearful countenance. Apart from the tears and the frilly dress, he could hardly be described as a sissy. He was every inch a boy in a dress, and a very reluctant boy at that. Nevertheless, his delightfully frilly dress and lacy, knee-length bloomers declared him to be a sissy. Eventually, after some coaxing and prodding from some person behind him, he reluctantly started to alight from the bus.

This was obviously a perilous exercise because he was obviously very tightly corseted and he could hardly part his knees at all. Each step down off the bus was fraught with disaster and he clung like a limpet to the handrail. After he had descended two perilous steps, his tormentor, - a senior girl in a pink frilly dress, appeared behind him with a sort of stick. As the boy hesitated before taking the final uncertain step to the ground she urged him to hurry.

“Come along you stupid sissy. There’s a whole busload behind you waiting to get off.”

So saying, she waved the stick thing at the boy as she pressed a button on the handle. The boy let out a terrified shriek then jerked spasmodically as he lost his balance and collapsed off the step to end up as a twitching, paralysed bundle of frills and lace at the foot of the bus’s steps. There he lay for several long seconds in shock, whilst screaming and kicking his legs feebly before struggling impotently to try and stand again. His corset obviously prevented any hope of him getting to his own feet and he was forced to lie, straight backed on the ground kicking while squealing helplessly until the senior girl and her accompanying ‘good sissy’ companion helped him to his feet. Eventually the boy stood dazed and blubbering as he clung onto the bus handrail to recover what little composure he could find.

As the boy stood wobbling unsteadily and trembling from whatever shock he had received from the stick thing, the girl spoke to the other occupants of the bus.

“Let that be a lesson to you. Any disobedience invites immediate punishment. Now move!!”

Slowly, the other befrocked boys emerged from inside the bus and cautiously clasped the handrails as they tried every which way to descend the steps without losing their balance. It was an extremely tricky task. Their corsets were obviously much tighter, stiffer and longer than ours and the steps of the bus were higher than ordinary stairs. The boys had to virtually lower themselves down the handrail until they reached terra firma then cautiously release the handrail and mince forward carefully to form a demoralised rank in front of Mistress Janet. After the first bus was disembarked, the senior girl, who was obviously a bus prefect, tapped smartly on the door of the second bus and another girl unlocked the door from inside. The previous scene repeated itself as another cargo of terrified, demoralised boys gradually emerged and struggled to descend the steps. The last person off was the senior sissy who appeared as nothing more than a decorative companion to the bus prefect.

“Are they all off?” Demanded the bus prefect.

“Yes mistress,” lisped the senior sissy who courtesied in total submission to her mistress.

The scene was repeated again at the third bus, but this bus only had a handful of passengers. The rear section of this bus was loaded up with luggage. To my surprise and concern however, I recognised two of the boys as the ones who had attacked me in the park during the summer holidays. Fortunately, they were too preoccupied with getting down off the bus to notice me.
Finally, all the terrified boys were drawn up in three ranks in front of Mistress Janet while the three girl bus prefects stood menacingly close fingering the control buttons on their cattle prods. The three senior sissies who had accompanied the bus prefects simply stood submissively to one side. Whatever duty they had, it was obviously subservient to the girls.

I suspected the senior sissy’s main function was to illustrate to the boys what their final destiny was to be, a perfectly compliant, obedient, submissive little sissy.

‘Lucky boys,’ I thought.

Once the situation became calm, Mistress Janet addressed the boys.

“You all know why you’re here. You have all committed serious sexual offences so you have been sent here for correction and punishment. Any misdemeanours will be treated with the harshest punishment while more serious offences will result in more permanent treatments. You will be kept here until you are eighteen. By then you will have been turned into useful, co-operative, obedient, compliant and productive members of society.

At the moment though, you are just trash. You have demonstrated that you are trash by the offences you have committed. You’re antisocial attitudes will be exorcised and eventually you will each be turned into something useful. The mistresses will now take you away and start your instruction.”

With that, the bus prefects raised their ‘cattle prods’ and the boys lurched as one in the direction Mistress Janet had indicated with one swift sweep of her arm. The rest of us watched them disappear into the stable block and the huge double doors slammed shut behind them. Julia, who was standing immediately behind me, whispered in my ear.

“You won’t see them again for at least a month.”

“Why not?” I asked, half anticipating her answer.

“It takes about a month to break them.” She explained.

“How do they do that?” I asked.

“Oh they’ve got dozens of different ways.” Julia replied as she gave a fearful little shudder. “Every boy is different but believe me, when they come out again, they’re well on the road to being sissified!”

I was afraid to ask if Julia had ever been in the stable block, but I suspected she had. Her demeanour seemed to point to her knowing all about the stable block. I had already learned that if a naughty sissy earned enough brownie points and convinced the mistresses that she had truly become a contented, voluntary sissy, she could, after a few years, graduate to a green frock and enjoy the extra privileges.

This seemed to be the route that Julia had taken. I did not press her further about it. The whole experience of the naughty boy’s reception seemed to disturb her and she was too sweet a sissy to deserve being hurt. I decided to ask Victoria or Sophia about it later.

Once the stable block doors had slammed shut, the yard became quiet as the rest of the school returned to what was to become their school routine. Janice and I were in the same class for most subjects and we were led away by a mistress to commence our academic lessons.

At lunchtime, Julia did not appear so I ate alone with Sylvia. When I wondered about Julia’s absence from our table, she smirked and looked around before replying.

“Look around. The whole of Julia’s year is missing.”

I realised they were and frowned uncertainly as Sylvia added waspishly.

“They’re probably tied up with the sissy reception thing. I notice all the prefects are missing as well.”

This observation convinced me that Sylvia might be right. We also both noticed that the second year sissies were particularly nervous whilst serving out the food for the senior girls had been delegated to the butt plug control roll. I noticed both Victoria and Sophia fingering their ‘zappers’ as they and the other senior girls checked to see that none of the second year sissies faltered in their serving roll as they dished out the food.

I saw poor Angelica trembling fearfully as she tried to ladle out the soup and I took a leaf from Julia’s book. As she stood to my side, I gently steadied her hand with mine and guided it carefully to my bowl. Angelica smiled gratefully but our efforts were to be quickly nullified. Sylvia had no such sympathies for a sissy and she deliberately brushed Angelica’s arm just as she was tilting the soup ladle. Some soup spilled onto the tablecloth and the blunder was immediately spotted by Angelica’s older sister Sophia.

Sophia obviously did not want to punish her younger sissified brother but the rules required it. Reluctantly, Sophia activated the zapper and sent a powerful burst of electricity through Angelica’s butt plug. Poor Angelica let out a squeal of pain and almost dropped the large metal soup duchy.

Fortunately she managed to land it heavily on the table before collapsing in pain and writhing on the floor as the butt plug punished her cruelly. Sylvia would have been amused if she hadn’t been splashed on the arm by the hot soup bouncing out of the duchy. She also let out a squeal of pain then scolded Angelica for her stupidity. Poor Angelica had no right of appeal.

Sylvia was a girl with all the privileges that the school rules endowed her whilst Angelica was just a naughty sissy. A sub species, with no rights whatever over a girl. As Angelica lay sobbing on the floor, Sylvia continued to scold Angelica, then ordered her to get up and continue doing her duty.

“Get up you stupid sissy. The others are waiting to be served, can’t you see?”

Angelic scrabbled helplessly on the floor for her corset was far too tight and she had no hope of getting to her feet unaided. I looked around uncertainly.

‘Was I entitled to offer Angelica some help, or was this another rite of humiliation?’ I wondered.

After several seconds had passed I could not stand to see Angelica in distress any more. I rose from my chair as gracefully as I could and bobbed down to offer Angelica my hand. Nobody seemed to object or protest although Sylvia stared daggers at me. With no objections forthcoming, Angelic gratefully took my hand and finally got back on her feet. To my surprise I felt a painful jolt in my arm and realised I had just conducted some of the electricity from Angelica. It gave my arm a nasty jolt and I squeaked with fright as I pulled my arm away to leave Angelica still squirming and writhing as she gasped and moaned with fear and pain. The butt plug was still punishing her, although the force was obviously decreasing.

I sat down again self-consciously feeling many staring eyes upon me, but the only stare that mattered to me, was Angelica’s tearful stare of gratitude. I was to learn later that it was unsafe for somebody to touch or support a sissy who was being punished by the electric shock up her butt. The second person could act as a sort of super-conductor and receive and even stronger shock. I had been lucky; the capacitor in Angelica’s butt plug had already discharged the bulk of its charge.
I was also to learn later that the motion of the sissy’s exaggerated wiggle recharged the butt-plug’s batteries. Each butt-plug had a largish cock section invading the sissy’s butt-hole to a depth of nearly a foot. Inside this section there were motion sensors that generated electricity and recharged the butt-plug’s capacitor and batteries.

Angelica’s wiggling motion caused a segmented, spherical commutator to roll within the permanent magnetic field of a stator fixed inside the main part of the plug. (The part that resembled an erect cock.) This generated more electricity so the whole design was a ‘self-perpetuating process. The butt-plug could vibrate and bring pleasure to the sissy or it could discharge a powerful jolt of higher voltage and leave the sissy in agony. The ‘Zapper’ in the senior girl’s hands controlled the butt-plug remotely. The senior girl therefore got to control the junior sissy completely. This was a double-edged process because whilst the little sissy was constantly in thrall to her butt-plug, the senior girl was constantly aware of her responsibilities to take care of the zapper. It prepared the girl for life as a mistress with life long responsibilities for her sissy’s welfare and control.

I also learned that the butt-plug was a virtual permanent fixture in every naughty sissy’s butt from the day she entered the school until the day she was promoted to a voluntary ‘good little sissy’. This could take anything from two years right up to leaving school. It was always a matter of some celebration when a ‘naughty sissy’ was promoted to a ‘good sissy’

When Mistress Janet and the staff made the decision, the chosen sissy was invited up onto the school stage during morning assembly and the butt-plug was ceremoniously removed in front of the whole school. The sissy was nearly always overcome with joy and relief and would tearfully accept the beautiful green presentation frock as a reward and badge of her new status.
Some sissies however, never had them removed, although as I got to learn more about being a sissy, I began to suspect that those sissies did not want them removed. They had probably become addicted to a butt-plug! I also knew that even if they did eventually qualify to have the punishment butt-plug removed, most of these particularly recalcitrant sissies had to continue wearing a ‘stopper’ because their sphincter muscles had become permanently ‘opened’. For the rest of their lives they had to seal their butt holes in some way.

Having a permanently opened anus however, did however make them much more amenable if they were destined for a life of pleasuring others. It also facilitated colonic irrigations and personal hygiene if they were very active in those pleasuring rolls. It was part life style choice and part force majure but more of that in later chapters.
During the rest of the school day Janice and I familiarised ourselves with the school routine and the timetable. We learned we would share most of the academic lessons but attend different life-style lessons. This was quite natural for I was destined to be a sissy and Janice was destined to be a mistress.

That evening at supper I noticed a large screen had been erected at one side close to the top table. Naturally I asked Julia.

“What’s that for Jule’s?” I whispered.

“It’s for the naughty sissies. Listen, they’re approaching now.”

Mistress Janet stood up, raised her hands and ordered.

“Silence!”

The hall fell silent and behind the screen I heard the irregular click of uncertain footfall. Julia smiled as she whispered.

“Listen. They’re not used to heels yet. They’re very unsteady on their dainty little feet.”

As it to confirm Julia’s words, there was a dull plop and the swish of a riding crop followed by a shrill whimper of despair. A sharp order followed.

“Get up you silly little sissy. Can’t you even walk properly?”

Another swish was followed by a shriek of pain and whoever had lost her footing was now wailing piteously.

“I can’t get up! It’s too stiff!”

“Oh for goodness’s sake you helpless, stupid thing. You two! Help her up!”

There was a muddled click of heels accompanied by very unladylike, breathless grunts as two other unseen sissies were ordered forward to help. After some gasps and squeaks of discomfort order was seemingly restored and the irregular click of heels resumed. It was only then that I discerned the soft tingling of metal. Once again I turned to Julia.

“What’s that jingling?”

“Ankle chains!” She whispered curtly. “Now stop asking questions or you’ll get us both punished.”

“Ankle chains!” I gasped.

“Ssshh!” Scolded Julia. “Be quiet!”

I took my cue and fell silent as the sharp eye of a mistress turned in our direction. I hoped she hadn’t heard or seen us.

Behind the screen a mistress’s voice was issuing instructions and I quickly realised they were instructions about how to sit on a bench when manacled together with ankle chains. Finally, there was a lot of shuffling and jingling of ankle chains followed the scrape of a bench and the despairing gasps of sissies whose corsets were too tight.

I did not need any imagination to realise what was happening. As the sissies were bending to sit, the vicious waists of the corsets would be digging hard into their plump waists and causing unmentionable discomfort.

Eventually the noises abated and Mistress Janet left her seat at top table to disappear behind the screen. To my surprise she spoke very softly to the new intake behind the screen but there was no doubting the real menace in her voice. I could not make out all the words but I could almost feel the fear issuing forth like waves from those seated out of sight behind the screen. Eventually, Mistress Janet stopped talking to the naughty sissies though she remained behind the screen. The Deputy mistress announced that the rest of the school could resume talking.

Immediately, a soft nervous murmur whispered around the hall as everybody fell to discussing the nature of the new intake. Naturally I pumped Julia for information just as every other first year girl or good sissy pumped her senior table partner. Julia smiled and explained with some relish.

“They are chained at the ankles so they cannot take large steps, then they are chained together just like a prisoner’s chain gang. They have to walk in co-ordinated crocodile or fall over. That’s probably what just happened. If they make genuine mistakes like tumbling over because they are new to heels, then they get switched with those horse crops. If their mistress deems that they made a mistake through deliberate misbehaviour then they get a jolt up their butts. That really hurts and they soon learn that it doesn’t pay to be naughty.”

I grimaced thoughtfully but Sylvia gloated.

“I can’t wait to be a mistress. I’ll show those little horrors what it means to hurt a girl.”

This was the first inkling I got of Sylvia’s past. There was obviously something dark and sinister lying there untold but it was not my place to pry. I was only a sissy; Sylvia was a girl! Girls had far more privileges.

We settled down to our dinner and once again Angelica arrived looking fretful and nervous as she ladled out our soup from the huge duchy resting akimbo on her rounded hips. As her eyes fell upon Julia I saw her visibly relax. Angelica obviously recognised Sylvia for the bully she obviously was but with Julia there to monitor our behaviour, it meant there was no chance of Sylvia misbehaving. Nevertheless, Angelica skirted Sylvia cautiously and ladled the soup cautiously across our table so that Sylvia could not upset her arm without making it obvious.

All our tables were square four-seater tables with settings for four occupants, however the fourth setting seemed never to be used. After Angelica had minced off to the next table I mused about this missing person and once again asked Julia. She wagged her head and smiled as Sylvia rolled her eyes heavenwards.

“Oh my Michelle. You’re full of questions aren’t you?”

“But why?” I pressed. “Why is the fourth placing always empty?”

“It’s for flexibility darling.” Explained Julia with a patient smile. “As the naughty sissies improve, (that is if they improve,), they may be released from the chain gang and allowed to sit with the rest of the school. Also, her mistress gets relieved from her supervisory duties and she can choose to sit at any table that’s got an empty setting.”

“So, we could get anybody then,” I finished.

“Yes! Snapped Sylvia. “You just hope that we get a nice one!”

“Quite,” agreed Julia with a sly smile, “lets hope we get a nice one.”

I caught Julia’s drift and lowered my eyes with amusement as I half turned away from Sylvia and smiled knowingly. Julia obviously had little time for Sylvia who seemed little more than a spiteful bully.

Finally supper was finished and I joined my sister Janice at the bottom of our stairs.

“Ready for the exercises?” Asked Janice.

“Lead on sis.” I nodded, and we started our first ascent.

Because we had no prep that first evening of proper school, we did some additional ascents and descents of the stairs until Victoria and Sophia arrived and smiled at our red faces and fluttering breasts.

“Don’t overdo it darlings, we don’t want you feinting do we?”

We took the hint and stopped exercising after ascending to our study located one floor above Victoria and Sophia. Later as we were covering our books to protect them, Sophia knocked on our door. As she came in she warned us.

“You’d better shower early. When the naughty sissies arrive, they’ll be all night doing their first ablutions. It’s difficult taking communal showers when you’re all chained together.”

“Oh! Thanks Mistress Sophie,” I smiled gratefully.

She smiled back and disappeared as Janice and I immediately attended to our undressing. We were to thank her for the advice for as we crossed the landing the long crocodile of naughty sissies came puffing and panting slowly up the stairs. The senior girl in charge motioned to us to hurry across the landing otherwise we would have to wait until the whole crocodile had slowly wound it’s way up to the next landing. That took nearly a quarter of an hour because the naughty sissies were still unaccustomed to mincing in step as they climbed the stairs. However, by instructing us to cross first, we had to walk naked passed the first sissies in the line and they could not help but stare lustfully at our peachy curvy bodies. There was even a murmur of curiosity as they realised one of us was a real girl but the other one was like them, a sissy.

Janice and I felt slightly embarrassed by having to cross in front of them whilst naked but it was obvious that the naughty sissies were utterly unable to do anything about it. Their ankles were chained together on a short one-foot chain that completely prevented any sort of agility. Then additionally, each sissy was chained at the waist to the next sissy in the line. They resembled nothing more than a coffle of slaves. Janice and I turned boldly to face them thus giving them a full flash of frontal nudity before we slipped into the bathroom.

As we closed the door, we heard the sharp swish of the riding crops and a tearful, collective whimper from the sissies as they resumed their strenuous climb. Strenuous that is because of their spectacularly tight corsets.

“Did you see their waists?” Squealed Janice, “I didn’t believe they could go that small!”

“That’s why they were gasping for breath.” I giggled. “They’ve just climbed three flights of stairs in those corsets and they have to climb the fourth to get to their dormitory.”

“I suppose they were glad we appeared on the landing. It gave them a chance to stop and rest.” Added Janice.

“Come on then, let’s get showered. They’ll be down here in a minute and I wouldn’t want to be caught by them.”

“Why?” Asked Janice. “They can’t harm us.”

“I don’t know.” I replied thoughtfully. “I think I recognised two of them as those two boys who attacked me in the park. I think Victoria’s mummy, Mistress Portia, said something about them being sent here.”

Janice's smile faded slightly so we quickly completed our toilet then showered together. As the water hissed in the cubicle there was a knock on the cubicle door. It was Sophia and Victoria.

“Have you two finished?” Asked Victoria.

“Nearly,” squeaked Janice; slightly surprised to find the two senior girls in the communal shower.

“Well hurry up. You don’t want to miss the show, do you?”

“What show?” I asked as I responded immediately to Victoria’s suggestion and stepped out of the shower.

I was surprised to find Sophia and Victoria completely naked though I think I succeeded in hiding my surprise. Janice was not so successful. She gasped and stared at the beautifully formed senior girls.

“You, - you’re naked!” Squeaked Janice.

“Of course we’re naked,” replied Victoria, “how else does one shower?”

“Oh! I, - I thought you two had your own shower.” Replied Janice still unable to avert her gaze from Victoria and Sophia’s beautiful breasts.

“Don’t be silly darling,” replied Sophia as she bent down and kissed Janice on her forehead. “Victoria and I are the dormitory prefects so we have to supervise the showers. Don’t worry though, the other senior girls will be attending and everybody will be naked so everybody will be equal. Nudity is not something to be ashamed of.”

Janice and I relaxed slightly as Sophia announced.

“They’ll all be down here in about five minutes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show.”

I was still a bit unsure of all this idea of nudity but Janice seemed relaxed about it and as it was always the duty of a ‘big brother’ to protect his little sister, I had to go along with the idea. Victoria sensed my uncertainty so decided to keep me occupied.

“Peaches, why don’t you go and fetch the towels from the store cupboard across the landing. They’ll be needing them after showering.”

For want of something to do I agreed and peered cautiously outside into the corridor before slipping across the landing to the door marked ‘store’. I checked to see that there was nobody waiting to trap me in the cupboard then I opened it inwards and locked it back before venturing into the cupboard. There were towels and toilet materials and various hygiene materials stacked neatly on the shelves so I counted out the requisite towels and carried them back to the bathroom. Victoria showed me where to put them and sent me back to get some shampoo and assorted toiletries. When a returned the next time I was crossing the landing with my arms full again when the rhythmic clink of ankle chains announced the descent of the naughty sissies from their dormitory upstairs. I glanced up the stairway to see the first totally naked sissy carefully mincing down the stairs as her mistress walked beside her in case she stumbled.

I say naked but that was not exactly true. Around her waist she wore a desperately tight punishment belt and between her bum cheeks I could just see the pink stub of a butt-plug. In addition to her ankle chains to prevent her running, there was also a chain connecting her punishment belt to the next sissy in the line. They were descending the stairs in strict military precision for one miss-step might have brought them all tumbling down.

I could see the fear in the first sissy’s eyes as she cautiously measured her step to exactly match the rise and going of the stairs. I also definitely recognised her as one of the horrible boys who had assaulted me in the park that summer. She also recognised me and averted her eyes fearfully. I relaxed a bit at her reaction for I realised that she feared me more than I needed to fear her.

Keen to be past them before they blocked my path to the bathroom, I minced across the landing and bumped my peachy butt against the door to carry my full load of toiletries into the bathroom. Then the sissies crossed the stairs in regular order and entered the showers. I stood back as the senior girls ordered them to turn to the wall. With nervous whimpers and moans, they obeyed reluctantly as each mistress unlocked her ward from the line and attached them to a ring in the wall. Now each naughty sissy was secured to the wall by her punishment belt and chain. Then, the first one, - the one who had assaulted me was ordered to bend over. She did this nervously and the next sissy was ordered to remove the butt-plug.

It was obvious she had never done this before because the job proved difficult for her and very painful for my attacker. She yelped then screamed as the second sissy fiddled nervously and tugged clumsily until the shaped rings eventually emerged from her rectum whilst tugging and expanding her sphincter. Eventually, the second sissy held up the butt-plug and examined it fearfully. It was quite obviously shaped like a man’s cock except for the thicker part in the middle and the series of ringed sections at the bottom.

As it had emerged, I could see now how the sphincter muscle naturally clamped onto each ring before the owner relaxed her butt to allow the next ring to descend. During each ring’s extraction the victim’s sphincter must have been stretched then closed unmercifully. The butt-plugs were obviously one of the cruelest punishment devices yet invented that could be worn without detection.

‘No wonder the naughty sissies were so obedient!’ I reflected.

The second sissy then held the butt-plug up for the Mistress’s inspection then she was told to place it in the little basin and wash it whilst the first sissy was taken to perform her bodily functions.

This process was repeated down the line until all the sissies were relieved of their bodily wastes. The first sissy of course, was required to remove the last sissy’s butt-plug so the whole cycle was completed.

Next came the showers. Each sissy was freed from her wall hook and paraded into the showers where her punishment belt and chain was connected to a longer chain that tied her to the wall but gave her freedom to move around and touch the other sissies. (I had wondered what the 2-metre length chains were for, hanging down from the rings in the walls.)

When all the naughty sissies were secured Victoria announced.

“I am switching the showers on now. You will each see the ‘telephone nozzle’ flexible pipe and control valve beside you so each of you can wash as she sees fit. I must warn you though, that your mistresses will inspect you after showering to make sure you are clean. One word of warning though.” Added Victoria. “You all have short hair at present because your hair hasn’t grown out. It will seem as though you have plenty of time to shower. This may be true now, but as your hair grows out to waist length, you will find the shower time seeming to get shorter and shorter. The older sissies up the school find that it’s better to assist each other by washing each other’s hair to speed up the process. It’s a good idea to develop this habit now and pick a friend to help each other. When you are older and more sissified, you will appreciate such co-operation.”

With these words, Victoria flicked the big switch and the sissies quickly experimented with the nozzles. After a few squeals about the initially cold water, they calmed down as they found they could adjust the temperature to their individual likings. Soon the shower room was a thick blanket of steam and the naughty sissies were an invisible squealing mass doing heaven knows what to each other as they showered. During this time, their ‘mistresses’ took the chance to attend to their own needs and returned later with their washed hair in turbans. Victoria explained.

“They have another shower room just down the landing. This landing is a sort of utility landing so you’ll hear a lot of traffic during your time here. However, your rooms are fairly private and you have a lovely view from your windows, so be thankful for my mother’s pull with the school. All the other new pupils sleep in dormitories.”

We looked suitably grateful and stood attendance upon Sophia and Victoria as they gave out instructions and orders to the naughty sissies.

Eventually she announced that shower time was over. The sissies were each re-secured at the ankles then released from their rings. And filed past me as I handed each one a large warm fluffy towel. The mistresses instructed them how to dry by patting and dabbing their bodies instead of rubbing them vigorously. Then they were each taken to the hair-drying room and shown how to dry their hair. This was done by first making each sissy dry her attendant mistress’s long hair. Janice and I attended to each other’s hair and the naughty sissies looked at us uncertainly. They were obviously wondering why we were receiving special privileged treatment.

The final bizarre little performance was to direct the hair dryers into a small opening at the back of their punishment belts and blow dry the ‘hard-to-reach’ parts of their waists under the belts. Once again, Victoria explained.
“If they don’t dry under their belts, it will begin to sour and smell and they might get fungal infections. We check them every Saturday morning when you others are playing hockey.”

“Hockey!” Sighed Janice. “Do we have to play hockey?”

“You must keep fit darlings. Mistress Janet won’t have any overweight pupils; girls or sissies.”

Janice pulled a face but I wasn’t too disheartened. I simply wondered what the hockey corsets would be like and would they show under our hockey gymslips. I hoped they would allow me to breath properly when chasing the ball, because I liked all ball games. If I couldn’t play soccer then hockey would have to suffice.

Finally, all the naughty sissies had completed their toilettes and taken up to their dormitories. There they were re-corseted and put to bed. Janice and I were taken up to watch as the senior girls laced their wards securely and chained them to the ‘fire release’ bars that ran the length of the dormitory and slipped free if the fire alarms went off. These bars prevented the sissies from wandering further than the next bed on either side but at least they were free to toss and turn and, if they wanted to, join a friend in the next bed.

There could be no licentious misbehaviour though. The night corsets made certain of that. All the poor little naughty sissies could do was cuddle up to the next bedmate and share companionship. Eventually, as the naughty sissy class settled down through the first term, they formed friendships, and the bed placement arrangements would change as sissies swapped beds to be closer to their friends.

If I had not known that every one of these naughty sissies had been an abuser of girls, I might have felt some sympathy for them, but after my ghastly terror in the park, it was hard to be compassionate towards them. Besides, there were plenty of ‘good sissies’ in the school with whom I would become friendly during my time at Mistress Janet’s academy.

I particularly liked Julia, my dining hall companion, but Julia was much further up the middle school and we had little time together except for meal times and the single hour of prep in the evening. Even then we were too busy studying. Sunday afternoons were about the only times we could really sit and chat and that is where I learned that Julia, like me, was a heterosexual transvestite who was fond of girls. One particular sunny Sunday afternoon as Julia, Janice and I sat under the Oak trees at the side of the sports pavilion; Julia confided that she hoped Janice would adopt her as a sissy companion when Janice had left school. Janice blushed and smiled then reached over and planted a soft kiss on Julia’s lips. I must confess, I felt a little bit jealous, but in all fairness, I could never become Janice's sissy companion in adulthood.

Janice was my younger sister and that would be incest! However, I secretly hoped that my sister Janice and Julia would become companions and even perhaps marry. The thought of having Julia as my sissy-in-law was a scrumptious idea.

Feed me!

Like Chapter 12 this chapter addresses some serious abuse issues. I wrote this one long before I first posted it on FM in 2007 as a self test to see if I could get past issues that were still hampering my step up into a happier life. Some helped, some didn't and my wife was not happy at some of the content. After further soul-searching and some fearsome argument with my wife, she reluctantly said 'maybe'. If the responses are too accusative or censorious I might take it down.

If you are of a sensitive disposition don't read this chapter it touches but briefly on incest but is little if at all worse than what I endured in early life.

Beverly.
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The Sissy farm

Chapter 13.

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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.

Chapter 13.

That night after our first experiences with the naughty sissy’s ablutions, Janice and I snuggled up as best we could in our tight restrictive sleeping corsets. We had grown accustomed to the tightly corseted waspish waists but both of us resented having the built-in crotches located high up under the knee-length hems of our corsets.

These ‘panty-sections’ ensured that we could not reach our secret parts and abuse either ourselves or each other. All we could do was lie tight against each other and cuddle up affectionately. There was one little delight available to us however. Our bra cups were soft and silky and they enabled us to gently finger our nipples through the delightfully silky stretch material that contained our breasts.

In those first few weeks of term, Janice's budding nipples and breasts were not as sensitive as mine so only I gained any pleasure from gently running the back of my fingers lightly over my silk covered nipples. However as the hormones in our giant ‘horse pills’ began to take effect, Janice began to catch up with me. I was delightfully surprised when a few days before the end of term, she pressed up close to me and I felt her silk encased nipples growing stiff under her silky cups as they brushed against my own sensitive buds.

“Gosh Jan,” I giggled, “Are you getting stiff nipples?”

“Mmm-mm!” She sighed lustfully as she hugged me eagerly and manoeuvred herself to locate her excited buds against mine.

I gasped with delight and returned the affections as we gently ‘humped’ our shoulders and chests against each other to satisfy our budding needs. Naturally our corsets heavily boned and panelled lower front sections prevented any hope of ‘frotting’ our secret places together. In that area we were to remain completely ‘de-sexed’ as far as mutual delights were concerned. Nevertheless, we discovered that our nipples had become so delightfully sensitive that it was sufficient for us to simply brush them together under our silky bra cups.

The unrealised side effect though, was that Janice and I slowly became addicted to ‘nipple sex’ as our bodies developed in line with the drug’s effects. By the time we had reached middle school Janice and I were virtually slaves to our nipples and breasts. She would be years into her twenties before Janice finally managed to wean her self off her nipple addiction whilst for me, (a sissy destined for the sissy farm,) it would always be ‘nipples first’ before recourse to any other form of pleasure.
Oh by the way, I forgot to mention that halfway through the first term, Auntie Beverly had consulted with the academy’s mistresses and they had decided that it would be better if Janice and I became full time boarders. Thus when we arrived home for the Christmas holidays, Auntie Bev was delighted with our physical progress. She was amazed with the development of our breasts and she couldn’t resist showing off her two wards to Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie at Christmas dinner.

“What do you think darling?” She asked Uncle Penny as Auntie Jamie carved the turkey.

“Well I think these two little poppets are just about the most delightful Christmas presents that anybody could wish for,” gushed Uncle Penny as we were made to parade around the table with our frocks and bras turned down to expose our swelling mounds and stiffening turgid nipples.

“They’re almost a perfect pair,” added Auntie Jamie as she served out the turkey breast slices, “much better breasts than these.”

Janice and I giggled at the comparisons between the turkey’s breasts and our breasts then Auntie Bev refastened our bra tops and party frocks as we finally took our places at the table. Janice and I simply kept smiling at each other because we could not get over just how ripe and sensitive our breasts had become. They were, without any doubt, the best presents a young sissy and a young girl could wish for.

I ate sparingly at dinner and Uncle Penny watched me with some concern.

“Don’t you want some more darling? There’s plenty.”

“No thank you uncle,” I confessed, “I’m almost full and I’ve got to leave some space for pudding.”
Auntie Bev explained.

“Michelle’s tummy will have shrunk slightly owing to the controlled diets at Mistress Janet’s. She can’t eat much these days or she gets a sore tummy.”

“Oh that’s sad,” added Auntie Jamie as she spooned some more food onto her and Janice's plates, “and I’ve cooked so much. This is going to last until next Christmas at this rate.”

“We could invite Victoria and Jemima around for tea,” suggested Janice.

“I’m afraid they’ve anticipated you darlings,” replied Auntie Bev, “we’re going to their house in Richmond for tea.”

“Oh. Goodie! Are we?” Responded Janice excitedly.

“Indeed we are,” added Uncle Penny. As soon as you’ve finished our trifle here we’re crossing town to visit them for Christmas tea.”

“Will anybody else be there?” Asked Janice hopefully.

“Well I suppose Sophie and Angelica will be there. They only live a couple of doors down.” Replied Auntie Bev as she smiled at our excitement.

We resumed eating and I watched enviously as Janice took another helping. Obviously she was not afflicted with a shrunken tummy. I simply had to sit there and watch as I left room in my tiny-tummy for a meagre portion of trifle. Eventually the trifle arrived and once again I could only manage a tiny portion while Janice spooned several servings onto her plate.

“You’ll be sick if you eat all that,” I warned enviously for the trifle was delicious.

“Oh don’t worry Michelle,” replied Auntie Bev. “Little girls have to make sure they eat properly and sensibly so that they have the strength for child bearing.”

“But that’s not sensibly,” I chided, “I’d be sick if I tried to eat all that.”

“Indeed you would Petal, but you’re only a sissy after all. Provided you eat the right foods for the dairy farm, you don’t have to grow big and strong. Besides. It’s Christmas so every little girl should be allowed to indulge herself.”

“So why can’t I indulge myself?” I pressed.

“You can petal, but you know already, you’ll only make yourself very ill. Your tummy just can’t take it.”

“Am I definitely going to the dairy farm?” I asked.

“Why yes darling.” Assured Auntie Bev. “Every sissy at Mistress Janet’s goes to the dairy farm. In Mistress Janet’s academy, it’s an essential part of becoming a sissy.”

I had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand I had learned from Miranda that it was great fun to be milked like a dairy cow but on the other hand, a sissy became a prisoner of her breasts and had to be milked at least twice a day for many years to come. Apparently, sissies finally went through something akin to a menopause at around fifty when their breasts finally stopped lactating. Just before coming to stay with Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie in London for Christmas. Janice and I had been taken to Miss Stern’s shop near our home to be re-measured and fitted for our new corsets. During our measurements, I had chatted quite extensively with Miss Stern’s sissy assistant Miranda and she had explained a lot to me as she sized up our growing breasts.

At Victoria’s Christmas tea Party, I would get a chance to speak about the sissy, dairy herd to Victoria and Sophia.
That time arrived quickly. The journey from Pimlico to Richmond took hardly any time that Christmas afternoon and we arrived at Victoria’s extensive house just as Sophia and Angelica and their mother were opening the garden gate.

“Oh hello!” Chirped Angelica. “This is a nice surprise. Will you be staying overnight?”

Janice and I looked up hopefully to Auntie Bev and she smiled and nodded as she exchanged glances with Sophia’s mother Emelia.

“Didn’t you see Uncle Penny putting the suitcases in the boot?”

“I thought that was presents.” I replied.

“They were, partly,” answered Auntie Bev, but your night attire is also in them.”

“Oo-ooh! This is a lovely surprise. Thanks hundreds!” Gushed Janice as she skipped excitedly up the path. I joined her and we arrived at the front door breathless with excitement as Janice ‘dinged’ the bell. Angelica tried to keep up with us but it was obvious that her overly developed breasts encumbered her. They kept bouncing spectacularly and she had to stop skipping along then resume mincing delicately at a much more sedate pace. By the time Angelica had arrived at the front door, Jemima had already ushered we younger ‘girls’ in. As we removed our capes and bonnets in the hall, Janice and I smiled as we watched Jemima and Angelica hugging each other contentedly and sighing happily. It was quite obvious that Jemima and Angelica were destined to become a ‘dairy partners, for the rest of their school days. I secretly hoped that they might be allowed to live near each other with their mistresses in adulthood so that they could remain dairy partners for life. They were simply made for each other.

Eventually Sophia and Auntie Bev entered and Victoria ushered them into the parlour while Jemima helped Janice, Angelica and me with our suitcases upstairs. As we unpacked our nightwear Janice and I couldn’t help but notice Jemima and Angelica constantly ‘adjusting’ their breasts as they repeatedly tried to make themselves comfortable.
Eventually Janice got bolder and asked them outright.

“Are you wearing the right sized bras? You seem to be constantly doing this.”

She demonstrated the action of a grumpy old maid cupping her breasts as if wearing an uncomfortable old conical cup bra.
Jemima’s face reddened intensely as she nodded her head and grinned self-consciously.

“Yes. Angelica and I have got the biggest boobs in our year.”

“And we are on the threshold of lactating,” added Angelica as she stroked her engorged nipples through her bra cup and lurched erotically.

“You need to get proper support for those.” I observed thoughtfully.

“We will be soon,” confirmed Jemima, “when we return next term, they are going to induce the whole class into milk and then we can get measured for corsets with nursing cups.”

“Oh.” Observed Janice. “Is that what they do then?”

“To us sissies; yes.” Replied Angelica. “But if real girls choose to join the herd they let them come into lactation naturally with the dairy biscuits.”

“What! Do all girls lactate then?” Gasped Janice.

“Oh heaven’s no!” Replied Jemima. “A girl has to elect to become one of the herd and she usually has to find another girl as a consenting partner to join her.”

“Does it turn them into bimbos?” Pressed Janice.

“Oh no. You have to be bimboised separately. If you’re good in exams, they rarely bimboise you unless your future mistress or guardian specifically requires it.”

“What happens if a girl can’t find a dairy partner?” I asked curiously.

“Well, they have to find a suitable sissy partner,” replied Jemima, “the problem isn’t the milking, it’s the pleasuring afterwards. A proper sissy can’t really pleasure a girl during milking because her sissy clitty is tiny. You’ve seen them; they’re just tiny little nubbins.

A girl can’t be pleasured like a sissy so her dairy partner has to have a boy-clitty and even then it’s difficult. Boy clitties are usually too small to pleasure a girl properly.

The arrangement rarely works and the girl invariably goes looking for another girl as a partner. Anyway, why all the questions, are you thinking of joining the herd Janice?”

Janice frowned thoughtfully as she fingered Angelica’s prominent nipples.

“If they’re as sensitive and erotic as these, I might.”

Angelica gasped and her knees sagged with lust before she recovered her composure.

“Ooo-ooh! Don’t do that without warning me darling. You could send a sissy over the edge doing that.”
Janice's eyes widened with surprised delight.

“Gosh! Are they that sensitive?”

“Yes!” Croaked Angelica as she adjusted her breasts for the umpteenth time.

Just then there was a call from Mistress Portia downstairs.

“Tea is ready darlings, come down and open your presents.”

We needed no further encouragement and minced expectantly downstairs into the drawing room. There we were confronted with a pile of parcels stacked neatly under the Christmas tree. It was obvious that everybody had decided to hold the present opening ceremony at Victoria’s and we would be busy for at least a couple of hours opening parcels.

It is needless to recount that most of the parcels were clothes and most of the clothes were underwear and delightfully frilly creations at that. Even Victoria’s daddy relished his presents as he held the beautiful lingerie against his body then smiled and disappeared upstairs to try it on.

We younger sissies were much bolder and we eagerly tried our presents on right there and then in the drawing room. Even Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie were emboldened and removed their skirts and blouses to try on their presents. It was the first time that Janice and I had ever seen Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie naked and we were intrigued to see their large pink willies nestling incongruously between their curvy peachy thighs whilst their slender chests each sported a fulsome pair of well formed rounded breasts.

Apart from their well-formed cocks and heavy balls, both Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie were in all other respects, women. They each had slender shoulders, large breasts, narrow backs and even narrower waists swelling to wide and well-rounded hips before tapering to a pair of beautifully turned legs. I also noticed that both Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie were completely hairless around their willies. I thought it made their boy parts much prettier and tidier. Then I noticed both Victoria and Sophia looking thoughtfully at Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie as they tried on their own presents.

Finally after we had tried out all our presents, we sat around in our favourite outfits chatting until tea was served. This was announced by Victoria’s daddy who had changed into his maid’s outfit and commenced serving the food once we were all sat down. Mistress Portia also supervised the proceedings and helped occasionally with some task more suited to a hostess, but Victoria’s daddy did the bulk of the serving work. He seemed to relish having to bend over in his high heels and exposing his deliciously frilly panties under his short maid’s skirt. I also noticed Mistress Portia, Auntie Bev and Mistress Emelia occasionally pressing their hands under his skirt and he would squeak with delight as he lurched forward and wiggled his butt coquettishly. However, once we were all settled, he joined us at the table and entered into the spirit of the festivities. It seemed he was not quite the total sissy servant that we had presumed all sissies to be.

The various relationships like the one between Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie demonstrated to Janice and me that there could be a thousand different degrees of sexuality and relationships between different people. It was quite obvious that Victoria’s daddy lived a double life. His day job took him into his London clinic where he treated people for sexual dysphoria whilst his alternative home life obviously involved a high degree of sissification and transvestism.

Despite all these obviously different arrangements, it seemed that everybody tolerated the others and they got along famously. I was secretly glad to have been precipitated into such a liberal and tolerant family. My own father would have beaten me senseless for expressing the slightest preferences for anything girly.

I viewed his accidental death in the car crash with mixed feelings. I did miss my mother though. She had always been so much more understanding and sympathetic to my feelings.

Once again I could not keep up with my sister in the food stakes and I noticed that Jemima and Angelica were also unable to indulge. Obviously our ‘sissy pills’ contained different drugs from the girl’s girly pills.

My tummy was quickly full and I had to sit demurely watching and smiling as my little sister and older girly friends indulged themselves. However, this time I had company. Jemima and Angelica also had full tummies and like me, they fidgeted discreetly as they tried to somehow ease the constrictions of their corsets. It was no use though. Even if we had been completely free of our corsets, our undersized tummies would have been quickly filled to discomfort.

Eventually, we finished tea and indulged in assorted party games. I enjoyed these for it was obvious that Victoria’s family had gone to a lot of preparation. They spanned a cross section of skills though most required some degree of intellect and they kept us thoroughly entertained all evening. The time seemed to fly by and bedtime came around all too soon.

We younger girls and sissies were sent to bed whilst the adults stayed up.
In the bathroom, Janice and I had a wonderful opportunity to examine Jemima and Angelica’s breasts as we showered together. They also savoured the occasion for they had a rare opportunity to check out Janice's girly parts and my still functioning boy-clitty. Angelica was fascinated by the way my boy-clitty grew hard and she couldn’t resist playing with it.

“Doesn’t it hurt to grow and stretch like that?” Asked Angelica who had absolutely no memories of ever having had an erection.

“No.” I conceded openly as I realised that Angelica must have been sissified from a very early age.

Eventually the inevitable happened and I had an orgasm. I let out a squeal of delight and ejaculated my seed all over Angelica’s face. She let out a gasp of surprise and jerked to her feet as she licked the strange pearly droplets from around her face.

“Gosh it must be weird to have something spitting like that,” added Jemima as she bent down to study my ‘condition’.

“Mine used to grow hard but it never spat stuff out like that.”

Thus Jemima gave away her sexual history. Obviously she had never reached male puberty although she could remember erections. I felt a little sorry for them but they didn’t seem all that envious. Their interest turned to Janice's secrets and they begged her to show them her secret arrangements.

Janice gave me a searching glance but I could see no danger. It was obvious that their sissy clitties were totally functionless as boy clitties and there was absolutely no sexual threat from either of them. Janice lifted one leg and rested it on the little seat as she gently parted her labia for the pair to look.

“Is that were a boy clitty goes?” Squeaked Jemima as she peered closely.

Janice nodded and gently took hold of two of Jemima’s fingers as she guided them into her little opening. Jemima gasped as her soft sissy fingers slid easily into Janice's moist cleft and Janice let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Then she invited Angelic forward and told her to look closely as she gently peeled back the hood of her clitoris.

“You see the little bud at the front,” said Janice.

“Yes!” Gasped Angelic excitedly.

“That’s my clitty. You can see it’s just like your sissy clit.”

“Oo-ooh yess!” Gasped Angelica with surprise.

“Well if you stroke that, like you stroked Michelle’s clitty, you’ll make me come.” Continued Janice as she gently introduced Angelica’s finger to her stiffening clitoris.

Angelic needed little instruction. It was obvious that Janice's glistening bud exactly resembled her own little nubbin and she gently curled the crook of her forefinger around Janice's clitoris.

“Yess! Just like that,” Groaned Janice with delight as she started humping Jemima’s fingers eagerly while Angelica improved her technique.

Very quickly, Janice let out a tremulous whimper of release and sagged onto the shower seat as her little opening started to leak copious amounts of fluid.

“Gosh! You’re leaking!” Squealed Jemima.

“Don’t be daft!” Giggled Janice. “Those are my juices. Girls get really wet down there when they get sexy. It’s to make it slippery stupid!”

“Oh. I see. So it doesn’t hurt you.” Conceded Jemima.

“Of course she has to be slippery, dummy,” added Angelica,” don’t you remember from those sex lessons. It’s to lubricate her hole.”

“Alright! There’s no need to be nasty.” Snapped Jemima. “I forgot that’s all.”

“Crickey! If you forget something like that, you’ll be a perfect candidate for bimboisation.” Added Angelica You’d better swat up for the exams.”

“Well I won’t forget after this will I? Look! Windows!”

Jemima held up her fingers and made a ‘scissors’ action to cause Janice's fluids to stretch membrane-like between her fingers.
I couldn’t help smiling but Janice gave Jemima a smack across the head as she closed her legs together.

“That’s horrible! I didn’t let you go there so that you could make fun!”

“Sorry.” Mumbled Jemima as she rubbed her reddening ear.”

“Right! Lessons over. Let’s get showered.” Ordered Janice.

Suitably chastised, Jemima and Angelica washed each other down while I attended protectively to Janice. She wasn’t frightened but she was obviously angry and I did everything to try and disassociate myself from Jemima’s crass insensitivity. Janice sensed my concern so she smiled at me and gently kissed me as she pushed her tummy against mine. I shivered slightly and whispered ‘no’ as I backed away.

“You could, - you know, - have a baby if we did that.”

“Yeah. It’s just not fair is it?” Whispered Janice regretfully.

This was the first ever intimation I ever had that Janice had any sexual interest in me. It frightened me because I knew that for brother and sister to do it was wrong.

Eventually we were all cleaned up and we patted each other dry. Angelica apologised again and scolded her friend Jemima for being so stupid and hurting Janice's feelings. Jemima looked suitably contrite and it seemed to me that the situation had resolved itself. I didn’t know about Janice though, and it was to be my first intimation of womanly wiles.
After we were laced into our sleeping corsets and lingerie, Victoria and Sophia put us to bed. Once we were cuddled up in our own bed Janice whispered to me.

“Do you think Jemima was wrong to do that?”

“What?”

“The window thing stupid. To pretend my juices were a window as she spread her fingers.”

“Well it was insensitive I suppose but I don’t think she meant any harm. Anyway, she can’t harm you. She hasn’t got a boy clitty or a proper cock, she’s probably weaker than you now despite your ages and she can’t be violent because her tits are too big, and finally you’re almost as tall as her now. You’re big for your age.”

“Yeah well I’m still angry. She had no right to do that.”

“Who can you tell?” You would have to admit you allowed her to put her fingers inside you.”

“Dammit! That’s a point. I’ll have to find some other way.”

“Don’t be cruel to her. She’s a sweet little sissy at heart. I’m sure she’s sorry. She’s said she’s sorry three times now.”

“You’re too much of a softy,” giggled Janice as she kissed me with her soft lips, “I’m going to make her suffer for a whole term just to make her realise she did wrong.”

“Well please don’t tell the mistresses, they’ll only make her suffer. Honestly, she’s a really sweet sissy and she’s very bright. She came second in her class exams this year.”

“Well she still needs to learn. Just for a term though.”

“Please don’t be too cruel to her. I don’t like it when you’re cruel.”

“So you do like me.” Grinned Janice.

“Of course I like you. You’re my sister!”

“Do you find me attractive?”

“Well, of course I do but we can’t, - you know, - that’s totally wrong!”

“Huh. We can’t anyway. These corsets make sure of that.”

“But we can do this,” I giggled as I gently brushed my thumbs against her nipples.

Janice squeaked then returned the pleasure and we remained thus embraced with our breasts brushing against each other for the remainder of the night. The problem was that sleep did not come easily. The constant mutual titillation of our nipples by our nipples caused my boy clitty to keep constantly trying to grow. This of course it could not do within the tight confines of the built in crotch inside my corset. And Janice of course became uncomfortably damp as her secret places kept leaking juices.

Soon we had to disentangle ourselves and reluctantly separate if we were ever going to get any sleep.
This was not the case however for Jemima and Angelica. Sissification had so reduced their sissy-clitties to such tiny innocuous little nubbins that there were no constraints on their nubbins becoming excited inside the tight confines of their corsets. Throughout the night, Jemima and Angelica remained locked in their titty-tickling embrace as their orgasms flushed softly through their bodies and they savoured the soft, mushy, squidgy waves of ecstasy rippling through their tummies. Mistress Janet’s sissies were tailor made for enjoying orgasms particularly whilst corseted to the most extreme degree. Janice and I listened enviously to their soft whimpering and sighing as they obviously savoured the delights of their sissified bodies. Eventually however, even a sissy’s libido can only take so much and they finally fell into a deep contented sleep. Janice and I also finally slept but for each of us it was a frustrated, intermittent and fractious experience. I actually began to envy Jemima and Angelica for their lamentable little nubbins. At least they could savour some sort of satisfaction.
In the morning, Auntie Bev appeared at our bedside and gently ushered me into her bedroom. For a few moments I was perplexed until she explained.

“You have to be milked Michelle, for in a few years, you will be so sissified that you probably won’t be able to father children. I need as many samples of your seed as I can harvest from you. You do want to become a daddy some time in your adult life, don’t you?”

I was confused but nodded agreeably. After all I supposed every boy expected to become a daddy at some time. I was just puzzled as to why she so wanted my seed. Auntie Beverly explained further.

“Every time I get a sample from you, Victoria’s daddy rushes it to her clinic and places it into a very, very cold refrigerator. This way, when you are older, and unable to produce sperm, you can use some from the sperm bank to make a baby and nurture it.”

I wondered why I wouldn’t be able to produce sperm when I was older but I was too ignorant to ask.

For the rest of the Christmas holiday, until I returned to Mistress Janet’s academy, I was milked for my sperm morning and evening and it was put into a sperm bank that was right next door to Victoria’s daddy’s clinic. The strange thing was, after first just fingering my nipples and little boy clitty Auntie Beverly then changed tactics. She gently introduced a vibrating dildo to my sissy pussy one morning and I had the strangest sensation as I suddenly spurted sperm without any proper sensation of delight and pleasure. I was to learn later that Auntie Bev had taken medical instruction and learned how to press the vibrating dildo against my prostate gland. My prostate gland had then ejaculated automatically without any sensation of a proper orgasm. I was a little disappointed for I had enjoyed the other way but Auntie Bev told me that the dildo way was quicker and easier for her.

“If you want to enjoy orgasms darling you can still continue to have Janice tickle your nipples and rub your little clitty but don’t expect me to have to spend an hour or more twice a day servicing your libido. Sperm extraction for me is simply another form of milking. Just consider yourself to be a dairy bull.”

I had no choice but to accept Auntie Beverly's words and simply presented myself twice a day for ‘milking’ until the school term started in mid January.

Often, Janice, Jemima and Angelica came to watch and this reinforced the perception that ‘sperm milking’ was little more than a technical, commercial operation to simply acquire sperm. It certainly became very impersonal for me.

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.

This chapter explores the advancement of Michelle and Janice into the middle school. It also describes their home lives and introduces a new family who visit once a year. P.S. I have removed the misnomered 'Punishment Belts' and used 'waist control belts' as corset substitutes during the school holidays.

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Mmmm! That tastes nice!

15 Sissy Farm

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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,

Chapter 15.

The following morning, Janice and I awoke in each other’s arms and savoured the warm spring sun as it shone through the South East window of our turreted study and illuminated our bed from an unusual angle. Janice let out a squeak of surprise and tugged me urgently into consciousness.

“Get up! It’s late. Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie are already up!”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes sleepily.

“What’s the rush? It’s the Pageant. It’s the holidays. If were meant to get up early, then I’m sure they would have woken us.”

Janice relaxed and snuggled back under the duvet as we savoured a rare morning cuddle in our own study. Then we slowly surfaced and slipped languidly out of our corsets before crossing the landing into the showers. To our surprise we found Nancy and Delilah also savouring a rare late shower.

They were as naked as we were and once again their eyes strayed enviously to my boy clitty and Janice's girly secrets. It was obvious they were comparing my pretty little pee-pee with their almost invisible little nubbins that were all that remained of their sissy clitties. Strangely, neither Janice nor I felt uncomfortable about this. We had already realised that as sissies they were physically incapable of overpowering Janice and I was therefore safe under Janice's care. Without the slightest sense of threat, we joined them under the hot sprays. However, Nancy and Delilah were not to be denied one little pleasure and as we lathered each other down, curious fingers strayed inquisitively to Janice and my pleasure centres. Naturally we reciprocated the explorations and soon we were giggling and gasping with delight. That morning’s events finally cemented our four-sided friendship.

That Sunday afternoon we four stayed together until all the elements of the pageant were finished and Auntie Beverly called us aside.

“Time to go home darlings.”

Reluctantly, Janice and I parted company with Nancy and Delilah and they stood holding hands and staring pensively at our minibus as we sat inside while Angelica, Jemima, Victoria and Sophia arranged themselves and the luggage. Nancy and Delilah looked so forlorn standing in front of the huge façade of the school. As Janice and I turned to wave, I asked Auntie Bev.

“What happens to those two during the holidays?”

“I don’t know properly darlings.” Replied Auntie Bev. “I suppose if there parents or mistresses don’t collect them then they have to remain in the school.”

“That’s exactly what happens.” Confirmed Victoria. “And they can’t escape because their punishment belts are fitted with satellite trackers. If they step outside the bounds, their alarms go off. Look, there’s Mistress Evans already attending to their belts. See!”

Janice and I stared as Nancy and Beverly stood obediently while Mistress Evans fiddled under their hooped skirts Suddenly both sissies jumped and squealed as though shocked and we realised that the punishment belts were not only tracking devices. Janice and I exchanged frowns.

The very idea of never going home seemed utterly repugnant. ‘Still’ I concluded, ‘they were after all being punished and ‘corrected’.

Eventually we were all organised and we all gave a final wave to Nancy and Delilah. Janice and I kept waving while Nancy and Delilah stood watching our minibus until we rounded the bend and lost sight of each other. Auntie Bev turned to us inquisitively while Auntie Jamie drove.

“You seem to get on with those two now.”

“They’ve changed a lot,” replied Janice.

“Yeah. Mistress Janet’s does that.” Grinned Victoria.

“Well they’re not as bad as they used to be.” I added. “They seem truly sorry for what they did.”

“Well if your still friendly with them by the summer holidays, would you like them to come and stay with us at the cottage?” Offered Auntie Bev.

“If we’re still friendly,” I agreed thoughtfully.

“Can we come to your cottage?” Asked Jemima boldly.

“Why not. There’s plenty of room and Auntie Jamie will be coming down. He has to make his peace with his father the old earl.”

“Is that the old man in the woods?” Asked Janice.

“The very same.” Replied Auntie Jamie.

“He’s nice.” Observed Janice.

Auntie Jamie said nothing as the faintest of ironic smiles etched itself onto the sides of his mouth. He obviously had differing views. Thinking back about this I was too young to realise what discontent there would have been between a father hoping for his son to provide children to ‘carry on the family line’ whilst his only son was a homosexual transvestite who showed very little likelihood of doing so.

For the rest of the drive home, we remained chattering about what we would do for the remainder of the Easter holiday before returning to Mistress Janet’s Academy. When we got home we were surprised to discover that Auntie Bev had secretly invited Victoria, Sophia, Jemima and Angelica to stay the remaining week of the hols at our cottage. To our surprise, Auntie Jamie was coming too, but he was going to stay with his father.

This was a very brave thing for a homosexual transvestite to do, especially when that transvestite’s father utterly disapproved of Jamie’s lifestyle. Two days after arriving home in London, we were on our way again to Auntie Bev’s cottage.

Once again, Auntie Jamie drove the minibus but she remained deep in thought. Several times, Auntie Bev tried to dig her out of her fearful reflections but she remained silent. She dreaded the confrontation with her father.

“There’s no need to be frightened. I’ll be there with you. He won’t be able to beat you or anything. I’ll be the witness.”

“You don’t know my father.” Was all Auntie Jamie said.

His mood put a slight damper on our spirits but we managed to chat amongst ourselves without inviting Auntie Jamie’s irritation. She was obviously very frightened and we sensed it. We children were dropped off at the cottage where Sophia and Victoria set about making the place comfortable. Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie then drove off down the lane to Auntie Jamie’s stately, family home across the other side of the woods. After packing away our clothes and setting out the dining table Victoria and Sophia shooed us away.

“Off you go. We’ll get dinner ready then you can wash up.”

This seemed fair so we four younger ones minced happily away for a walk in the woods. Angelica and Jemima immediately fell in love with the cottage and the woods and they swore they never wanted to leave the place.

“And all these woods are yours?” Squealed Jemima as we led them through the glades to the little stream.

“Up to the stream and this side of the path.” Replied Janice. “That side is Auntie Jamie’s dads'.

“Who owns the other side of the stream?” Pressed Angelica.

“The county council,” I replied. But it’s a huge chunk and very few people venture this far into the woods from that side.

That means we more or less get to use the woods up to the stream in complete privacy.

“Do you ever go skinny dipping?” Giggled Angelica.

“We used to, before I became a sissy.” I replied

“So what’s to stop you now?”

“Nothing except that the water’s still freezing. Dip your hand in it.”

Angelica carefully arranged her beautiful frock and leant forward cautiously until she managed to dabble her fingers in the crystal clear waters.

“Oo-oh! It is cold!”

“Exactly. Try leaving your fingers in there for a couple of minutes.” Observed Janice as Angelica struggled to her feet.

“Why is it so cold?” She asked as she brushed down imaginary soil marks from her frock.

“It’s fed by a spring about half a mile up the valley and it’s icy when it comes to the surface. This time of year, it hasn’t had much sun to warm it so it’s always freezing. In the summer it warms up a bit, enough for a quick dip, but it’s always too cold to linger in the water.”

“Oh. I do hope we can come back in the summer.” Declared Jemima. Come on. We must get back.”

“Oh let’s not rush,” sighed Janice. Supper isn’t until eight and I’ve brought a torch.”

Angelica fidgeted slightly and ‘adjusted’ her bountiful breasts.

“We’ve got to get back. It’s milking time.”

“Oh! Sorry. I forgot!” Gasped Janice as her eyes fell upon Jemima’s ripe forms.

Jemima blushed and smiled as she also ‘adjusted’ her breasts and set off determinedly back along the path. As they minced urgently along, both sissies started to pant and whimper and we asked what was wrong.

“We spent too long by the stream. Our breasts are beginning to ache.”

“Well walk a little faster.” Suggested Janice.

“You’re joking!” Protested Angelica. “The faster we walk, the more our boobies bounce. The more they bounce the more the milk wants to flow. Ooo-ooh. Mine are getting full!”

Their mincing, swaying walk became more exaggerated as they tried to move faster but maintain a graceful flowing motion that prevented undue bouncing of their breasts. We stopped one more time on the path while Angelica and Jemima took some pads from their purses and deftly slipped them into their bra cups.

“I’m beginning to leak.” Declared Jemima.

“So am I.” Added Angelica. “We didn’t know the stream was so far away.”

By the time we arrived back at the cottage both sissies were ‘showing’ as the milk had soaked their pads and stained the cups of their bras. There were even two tiny damp spots each showing on the bodice of their frocks. Victoria and Sophia wagged their heads condescendingly as Angelica and Jemima urgently untied their bodice laces and finally exposed their boobs.
The portable milking machine was operated from the Minibus and both sissies had to stand outside in front of the cottage with their ripe boobies exposed until Victoria had set the machine up and invited them to attach the ‘double headed’ suction cups to their spurting nipples.

Now the sissies stood facing each other with the two suction cups mutually attached to their nipples so that each cup was attached to two nipples. Thus were the sissies connected to each other as the milk spurted from their breasts and splashed against their companion’s nipple inside the double ended shared vacuum cup. The sissies were in effect joined at the nipples.
Jemima and Angelica needed no second invitation as they quickly activated the glass vacuum pumps and sighed with relief as the milk was now directed into the machine. Janice and I watched in fascination as the rich creamy liquid spurted out of their nipples and splashed against each other’s nipples before tumbling into the glass cups then flowing down the pipes and into the large container. We also noticed that Jemima and Angelica were becoming more and more trancelike as their breasts and nipples obviously responded to the suckling reflex. Then they started to mewl and sigh as their hips started gyrating and they embraced each other. Soon they were gasping and squeaking and the milk seemed to increase its flow.

It was obvious that they were trying somehow to ‘frot’ their sissy clitties together but their corsets prevented all hope of this relief in this area. Angelica and Jemima were reduced to simply trying to alleviate their urges by kissing and embracing their upper bodies. This was however, made almost impossible by the shared suction cups, which invaded the space between them, were normally their large breasts would have mashed invitingly together.

Finally as the milking was completed, their nipples had become so enlarged by the excitation that they were squashed against each other inside the vacuum cups. Both sissies were now feeling the others’ turgid erectile buds pressing against their own. Such sensations were just too much for a sissy to bear and they quickly sagged against the side of the minibus as their orgasms overtook them. Janice and I became a little concerned but Sophia, who was supervising, reassured us that it was all perfectly normal.

“Is this what happens in the dairy parlour at school?” Asked Janice.

“Well there’s a little bit more in the dairy parlour, but you will have to wait until you become herd members. Do you still want to become a dairy girl?” Asked Sophia curiously.

Janice nodded and explained.

“Only if I can have Michelle as my dairy companion.”

“Well that can easily be arranged. So long as your Auntie Bev agrees, then it’ll happen that way. By the way did you know I have been elected as head girl next year?”

“Ooo-ooh super!” Squealed Janice.

“Don’t let it go to your head though. I still have to be fair and show no favouritism.”

With this exciting news, we disconnected the sissies from the milking machine and they stumbled bare-breasted into the cottage to shower and change their clothes. By the time Angelica and Jemima were ‘recovered’ Victoria had prepared supper and Auntie Bev had returned with Auntie Jamie from the ‘big house’.

“So how did your dad take it?” Asked Victoria of Auntie Jamie.

“Not as bad as I thought he would. It goes to show he’s more concerned with ‘perpetuating the family line’ than he is about my happiness. So long as we produce a son and heir, he’s happy.

“But that’s always the way with the upper classes.” Observed Auntie Bev. “He just thinks of me as a brood mare, not even a future daughter in law.”

Auntie Jamie nodded philosophically and commenced eating as Auntie Bev continued.

“We’ve all been invited to dine with him tomorrow. He thinks you’re all girls so let’s have no slip ups.”

We all grinned with delight. Janice and I had been up to the big house before but the other’s had not. There would be the inevitable tour of the house by old Dorothy, the crusty old housekeeper. Apart from Auntie Jamie’s dad, Dorothy and a single gardener, nobody else lived up at the big house. That evening we four younger ones chatted far into the night about the forthcoming visit. We shared the two beds in what was normally Janice's bedroom whilst Victoria and Sophia used my room. Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie slept together at the other end of the landing.

The following morning after ‘the milking’ there was a bit of a ‘log jam’ outside the bathroom. The cottage had never been designed for the exceptional needs of sissies and corsets and we giggled as we fussed and fidgeted whilst waiting to use the bathroom. Auntie Bev grinned and remarked that we would have to build an extension if we were ever to come back to live there but Auntie Jamie quickly put her right.

“We’ll be living at the big house when we get married darling. There’s plenty of room for all!”

“But what about your dad?”

“He’s not long for this world. He’s eighty-seven now! He was over fifty when I came along and I was his only son by his second wife. I’ve got four older half sisters but they never come to see him. Their mother’s divorce from him was pretty vicious. It was all about providing a son. My mother was his second wife and very young when they married. She gave him a son, namely me, and then she ran off with some handsome young gardener. Dad’s been divorced twice so now he’s a grumpy old bastard.”

“Crickey, your family’s completely dysfunctional!” Laughed Auntie Bev.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. How long will these little beauties take to get ready? We’ve got to be there at twelve precisely. Old Dorothy’s a stickler.”

“Oh they’ll be ready in plenty of time. Mistress Janet’s training is excellent for teaching young a lady’s punctuality.”

And we were ready. By eleven forty-five we were arranged neatly on the huge step outside the monstrous front doors of Auntie Jamie’s family home. A tall severe looking lady answered the door and smiled politely at Auntie Jamie as she made a brief curtsey.

“Good morning sir.” She said somewhat sheepishly for Auntie Jamie was wearing a smart silk two-piece skirt and jacket that beautifully showed off her perfectly feminine curves. Under her pink frilly chiffon blouse could easily be seen her lacy pink bra supporting two glorious fulsome breasts. Auntie Jamie was every inch a lady. The address however, upset her no a jot. Auntie Jamie was quite used to her childhood acquaintances still referring to her as a man. She ignored the title and smiled at Dorothy as she introduced us. It was all very formal and correct but we were used to formal and correct. Mistress Janet’s Academy for young ladies had prepared us all perfectly for such lives.

Dorothy took Auntie Jamie’s coat, Auntie Bev’s coat, and Victoria and Sophia’s. We younger ‘girls’ were instructed to remove our coats and follow her to the cloakroom. When we returned, Auntie Jamie was introducing Victoria and Sophia to his father, the old earl. Auntie Bev of course, knew the old earl from way back when she and my mother and Uncle Penny had played with Auntie Jamie as children in the woods. Finally, Jemima and Angelica were introduced then we were led into the dining room. A young maid had been employed for the day to help Dorothy wait at table. It was obvious that the old earl was determined not to let standards slip. We sat down to eat and we younger ones only spoke when spoken to. Mistress Janet’s Academy had taught us to know our place when dining with adults.

By three o’clock, the ordeal was over. Auntie Jamie’s dad seemed to have loosened up a bit and the young maid had rather spoiled us younger ‘girls’. She was impressed that we didn’t appear to be greedy but little did she know that sissy’s tummies were incapable of greed. We made our farewells and the old earl suggested that we should come again. That at least seemed to please Auntie Bev and they agreed to come on the Sunday before we returned to London. As we walked back through the woods Auntie Bev chatted with Auntie Jamie.

“Your dad; he doesn’t seem that upset by it all.”

“He’s always liked you. I think he always secretly hoped I’d marry you.”

“Well, he’s got his wish, - at last.”

“He still doesn’t approve of me though.”

“Well, we can’t always have what we wa-ant!” Sang Auntie Bev as her voice rang through the silent glades.

We all turned to stare then giggle as they held hands then started skipping along the path. Naturally we tried to follow but out formal corsets prevented us somewhat and we all fell to mincing with prissy little steps as we struggled to keep up with Bev and Jamie.

“Wait for us!” Squealed Victoria with delight as Jamie and Bev’s happy mood took hold of us all.

Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie however ignored our pleas and they soon disappeared around a bend as we six corseted ladies gave up the chase. When we arrived back at the cottage there was no sign of the pair and it was five o’clock before they emerged from the woods. Auntie Bev’s lovely pink frock had bluebell flower stains up the back and we soon realised what had been happening. The wood was full of bluebell glades. Victoria and Sophia scolded her affectionately as they pointed out the marks.

“So what!” Protested Auntie Bev. “We’re both consenting adults.”

“But Auntie Jamie’s gay. Did she; you know, -?”

“I think you’re under a misapprehension. Uncle Penny’s gay. Auntie Jamie is a bi-sexual transvestite.”

“So, your marriage, - it’ll be a ‘back-to-front’ ‘ménage a trois’?” Asked Sophia. “Two boys and a girl.”

“Yes, sort of. My brother is not the jealous kind. She’ll be happy to share her partner with her sister.”

Sophia shared a knowing look with Victoria and grinned.

“Can we be bridesmaids, plee-ease!”

Auntie Bev’s laughter tinkled delightfully through the cottage.

“Of course you can. All six of you are bridesmaids.”

“What about Auntie Jamie’s half-sisters? Won’t there be any nieces there who’ll want to attend?”

“They can if they want, but they’ll have to accept the dress code. Auntie Jamie’s wedding gown will be exactly the same as mine. We don’t want the groom’s bridal gown to surpass the bride’s do we?”

“Ooo-ooh. This is going to be so super!” Squealed Jemima as she hugged Angelica tight to her.”

“When’s the wedding then?” Asked Victoria.

“At the end of July.” Replied Auntie Jamie who had joined us in the bedroom as we undressed Auntie Bev and changed her frock.

“Gosh that doesn’t leave much time! How will you arrange the church and stuff?”

“The village church is attached to my father’s estate. He’s ipso facto the local squire. The padre couldn’t refuse. Besides, the village is very small and the church rarely sees a wedding these days. There was no problem organising a Saturday in July.”
“What will the villagers think with the groom in a gown?” Wondered Sophia.

“My transvestism is no longer a secret. They’ve seen me en-femme in the village many times. Don’t forget I still have to come down here when there are big family occasions. My father demands it even though he detests my transvestism. It’s always duty and family with him before anything else. My father’s always complained about my lifestyle. Everybody in the village has had to suffer his whingeing about what a disappointment his son is. Do I care! Provided I’m fair to the tenants and farmers on the estate, they’ve got no right to object.”

Are you going to live here when your dad dies?” Asked Sophia.

“Yes, some of the time. There’s still the business to run in London what with the pub, the club and the boutique, not to mention Uncle Penny. She’s my business partner as well as my boyfriend. We’re happy with the arrangements, aren’t we Bev?

Auntie Beverly nodded and smiled quite spontaneously and I was forced to conclude that she was. I learned later in life that Auntie Bev had always secretly hankered to live as the lady up at ‘the big house’. She had finally achieved that ambition. She had always been deeply fond of Auntie Jamie despite his bisexuality.

If her new husband also had a boyfriend as well it mattered not a jot to Auntie Bev provided it didn’t scare the horses. Besides, at least she knew who that boyfriend was and she knew she could trust them to be fair and open about the arrangement. Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie were deeply loyal to each other and it was a truly emotional bond, not a crude fear of sexually transmitted diseases. Uncle Penny was also happy that Auntie Jamie’s newly chosen wife was our Auntie Bev, his own younger sister.

When we returned to London, the arrangement was confirmed in the strictest sense when the three of them chose to sleep in the same large bed. Janice and I discovered this arrangement the very first morning after our return when Janice and I knocked on Auntie Bev’s door for her to check our corsets. She invited us in and we were surprised to see three beautiful heads of hair spread out upon the pillows.

“Oh!” Squeaked Janice with surprise. “Shall we come back later?”

“Don’t be silly darlings!” Smiled Auntie Bev. Come here. Climb up on the bed.”

We needed no second bidding for the three of them looked absolutely delicious in their beautiful nighties. If we had not known of their true natures, we would have readily mistaken them for three beautiful women. We had to clamber over Uncle Penny to reach Auntie Bev who hugged us and kissed us before checking our corsets. After confirming they were properly laced she settled back between her companions and asked us what sort of dresses we wanted for the wedding.

“Oo-oh! Do we get to choose then?” Squealed Janice.

“Of course. What colour scheme do you like?”

I looked at Janice and she smiled at me. We both loved pink but were afraid to say so. Auntie Bev smiled and fingered Auntie Jamie’s frilly nightie.

“Is this the colour you like?”

We both nodded shyly for Auntie Jamie’s nightie was the most explosive shade of pink that could be invented. By comparison, Auntie Bev’s pale ivory nightie and Uncle Penny’s powder blue peignoir were conservative.

“Very well darlings. Pink it is. I always knew you both liked pink.”

Janice and I wriggled with glee and inveigled ourselves under the duvet either side of Auntie Bev. She spread her arms and hugged us to her. We lay there savouring Auntie Bev’s soft ripe curves whilst privately noting that Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny also shared a similar feminine softness. They responded to our inquisitive fingers by turning inwards and squeezing both Janice and me between themselves and Auntie Bev. The soft warm sandwich of creamy soft curves left Janice and I blissfully content. Fortunately our corsets prevented any untoward or unsavoury intimacy by inquisitive masculinity. We lay savouring the luxury of so much softness until Auntie Bev finally capitulated to the demands of the day.

“Well. Come on. We can’t lie here sleeping and cuddling all day. There’s work to be done.”

“And a business to run.” Added Uncle Penny as she slid out of bed, felt around for her mules then ‘clip-clopped’ into their en-suite bathroom.

Auntie Jamie followed her and Janice and I looked on curiously. From the rear both our ‘uncles’ were perfect women. They had slender curvy backs with narrow waists and curvy rounded hips. Their calves were as curvy and smooth as any girl could wish for. Even from the front, they were women until one had a chance to see their naked bodies. Fortunately such virulent organs were discreetly encased in their panties and slips though they did not ‘tuck’ during the night. From their beautiful slender jaws, down their swan necks and over their beautiful breasts to their slender waists and flared hips our uncles were definitely women. It was only when one looked lower down under the ripe swell of their girly tummies, were the telltale silky forms of their masculinity clearly visible.

During the night, neither Uncle Penny nor Auntie Jamie ‘tucked’. They only did this for daytime decorum. We three ‘girls’ remained cuddling and contented until our ‘uncles’ returned from the bathroom. Now they were wearing their daytime lingerie and for the life of us, neither Janice nor I could see the slightest sign of masculinity. Both our uncles were well and truly ‘tucked away’. Auntie Jamie caught us staring and she smiled.

“It called transition darling. All good trannies learn to do it.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

I asked recalling vague memories of pain if my cock and balls had ever been squeezed when I was a little boy.

“It just takes a little practice darling.” Added Uncle Penny as she clipped her suspender belt around her waist and slid the tabs under her panties.

There was little more that Janice or I could say. Our uncle’s panties showed absolutely no signs of any masculinity and they were soon dressed ready for the day. Reluctantly, Auntie Bev pushed back the duvet and exposed us to the cool bedroom air as she sighed regretfully.

“Come on darlings. We can’t stay abed all day. We’ve got some shopping to do.”

As our uncles made their way downstairs, we attended Auntie Bev in the bathroom. After she had showered, Auntie Bev slid into her ‘merry widow’ corset and invited us to lace her up. We complied and then watched as Auntie Bev spooned her breasts into the bustier section. Janice stared fascinated then remarked.

"All of you have got nice breasts, but yours are the nicest. I hope mine grow like yours.

“Oh they will darling,” reassured Auntie Bev, “I can almost guarantee that your breasts will grow to the same size as mine.”

“Will mine?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh most probably. Your mummy had nice breasts as well so I’m quite sure you’ll have nice breasts. Though you’ll have to keep taking the tablets until you’ve reached twenty one or so.”

“If it means these keep growing, I’m game!” I declared eagerly as I fingered the delightfully sensitive nipples and swelling breasts wobbling under the bra section of my corset.

Janice followed suit and we sighed contentedly before resuming with Auntie Bev’s dressing. Auntie Bev smiled indulgently as I clipped her stockings to her belt and secretly savoured the scented fragrances emanating from her warm panties. Eventually we were all dressed and ready for the fray. We would be visiting several bridal boutiques in our quest for the right designs and colour schemes.

Naturally, Auntie Bev failed to decide on that first outing. It was to be another month before the wedding theme was finally decided upon and another month again before all the gowns were ready. Inevitably, Auntie Bev had chosen Miss Stern’s London branch for our bridesmaid’s outfits because our tiny waists might have raised some curious eyebrows at a more conventional bridal boutique. As it was, Auntie Bev had no small problems getting the boutique to accept that the groom’s gown and the best man’s gown would have to complement the bride’s.

Apparently there was quite a stir in the boutique when Uncle Penny, Auntie Jamie and Auntie Bev all turned up for the final choice their gowns. It also raised a bit of a giggle when the couturier suggested that they dress in separate rooms so that the groom did not see the bridal gown before the wedding. When she suggested this normal tradition Auntie Bev apparently burst out laughing. After she recovered her composure she declared that it was hardly a traditional wedding. After all, the groom had to decide upon her gown and the gowns mustn’t clash. Apparently, Auntie Jamie was almost as indecisive as her bride so the final fitting at the boutique turned out to be a thoroughly hysterical event. I wished that we younger ones could have been there but we were back at school during the summer term and therefore little involved in the decision making.

At Mistress Janet’s Academy our friendship with Nancy and Delilah blossomed as the pair became yet more effeminate, more bimboised and more servile to Janice's wishes. By the time school was out, Janice had two virtual slaves mincing around and dancing attendance upon her every wish.
I of course had no suzerainty over them for like them, I was still just a sissy. For Janice though, it meant an early induction to the ranks of mistress.

In our letters home we described Nancy and Delilah’s ongoing sissyfication to Auntie Bev. She had already invited them to stay with us at the cottage for the summer holidays so she wrote to ask if they would also like to be bridesmaids. She felt it would be a pity to exclude them from such an exciting event. When Janice put the question to them they almost fell at her knees with beseechments as they simpered and squealed with anticipation. Their measurements were taken by one of the mistresses and sent to the bridal boutique for inclusion in the ensemble.

Finally school broke up and our enlarged group returned home, first to London and the pub in Pimlico then we set up home in the cottage. Nancy and Delilah were ecstatic that they were allowed to wear ordinary frocks and lingerie and only the punishment bands to keep their waists correctly sissified. Apart from their tiny waists they almost looked like normal girls and thus they were free to join us on outings and trips.

Naturally the first place they wanted to visit was the pool in our part of the forest so we organised a picnic for that very first week. Unusually for Britain, that August was intolerably hot and the water in the stream had time to warm up before it reached the pool. It still emerged from the rocky spring icy cold but as it splashed over sun warmed rocks it quickly acquired heat so that by the time it filled our natural pool the water was tolerable. Nevertheless it was still cool enough to tantalise our nipples and we all giggled as our large sensitive sissy nipples stiffened enticingly under the flimsy materials of our bathing costumes. For all of us it was a relief to not have to wear our corsets and for that first week of the holidays we just savoured the delightful freedom from corsets as we splashed about in the pool for most of the day.

Fortunately the pool was not deep. Just over a metre deep so we could stand easily whilst there was enough depth to swim. The reason I say this is because even though our waist control belts were not very noticeable under our beautiful bathing costumes, they were enough to weigh down a sissy if she tried to stay afloat. In fact our slender ‘pipe-stem arms’ were not really strong enough to haul ourselves up the grassy banks out of the pool and we had to plead with each other if we wanted to get out of the pool. We could not swim more than about ten or fifteen metres before our delicate arms tired and we had to stop and stand on the gravelly bottom to catch our breath. For we sissies, swimming in the pool was a sharp reminder of how weak and feminised we had become. It was especially amusing to watch Nancy and Delilah squealing and simpering as they quickly tired of any exertions and had to be helped out of the pool after only about ten minutes playing. Truly they had metamorphosed into delightfully helpless and prissy sissies.

We were particularly glad that the pool was shallow for if the water had been over our heads we could have been dragged down by our waist control belts and drowned. Fortunately, for that first week of the idyllic holidays, Auntie Bev would accompany us with Auntie Jamie and the two would help us if we got really stuck. All of us sissies were fascinated by Auntie Jamie’s incongruous bulging bikini bottom that so belied the rest of his totally feminine appearance. It was a good thing that the pool and stream were on our private land. Auntie Jamie would never have been able to appear in a public place with such an incongruous bundle in place of what any unsuspecting passer-by might have expected to be the smooth inviting curve of a sweet female contour. We were truly grateful for her attendance as she helped us out of the pool.

After all, a sissy is not very strong and does not have the stamina or strength to keep herself afloat whilst wearing a metal waist control belt. We looked like a large party of school girls enjoying our own private delights. The woods rang with our squeals and shrieks of delight. Even Victoria and Sophia enjoyed the delights of our pool for this was their last summer as irresponsible school girls. The next year they would be senior girls then the following year they were destined for college. Truly that first summer week at the cottage was a memorable delight.

The second week however provided us with some surprises.

Auntie Jamie’s father, the Earl, often let a family of gypsy travellers spend the summer in his part of the woods. This had been a long standing tradition of the families for many generations and Jamie’s father upheld family traditions religiously. The gypsies helped with the harvest and attended to many rural tasks about the estate like hedge trimming and foresting. For this they got a peaceful private site where they could indulge their old rustic lifestyle unhindered and unharrassed by interfering police or urbanised ignorant neighbours who had recently moved out to the country and did not appreciate their life style.
Each summer, these genuine Romany gypsies would set up camp in an isolated glade close by the spring and go happily about their business with the blessings of the old earl.

He (and indeed we,) got our forest tidied up and the gypsies got a couple of month’s idyllic peace far away from the nosey, interfering eyes of the establishment. Needless to say that after a week of us sissies frolicking in the pool the gypsies soon got to learn of us. On the Monday of the second week the children from the gypsy camp appeared at the edge of the pool as we were all splashing and shrieking whilst oblivious to their approach. Eventually, Angelica spotted them and motioned to my sister Janice who as the only real girl present was de-facto the group spokes-person. Victoria and Sophia had gone with Aunties Bev and Jamie to do some arrangements for the wedding.

“Who are they?” Angelica squeaked nervously as she pointed to the group of children numbering about seven.

Janice and I studied the group just as they approached the edge of the pool and stopped to look at us. The gypsy children spoke first because they thought they had cart-blanch private use of the pool after having been given permission to camp near the spring by the old earl.

“Who are you?” Asked the biggest boy who looked about thirteen.

“Well who are you?” Riposted Janice.

“We’re the gypsies and this is our pool.”

“Oh!” Challenged Janice boldly. “And who gave you the pool?”

“The earl!” Piped up the biggest girl.

“I think not,” challenged Janice, “this pool is not on the earls’ estate. It’s on our part of the estate.”

“But we’re allowed to use it!” Protested the boy who had failed to listen properly to Janice’s declaration of title.

“Why are you allowed to use it?” Pressed Janice. “The pool does not belong to the earl.”

“We’re allowed to use the whole woods. The earl said so and so did the people from the farm.” Challenged the smaller boy of about ten.

“And who are ‘the people in the farm?” Demanded Janice.

“They’re friends of the earl.” Declared the older girl.

“That’s absolutely true,” agreed Janice, “they are friends of the earl, but that doesn’t give you the right to challenge us to the pool.”

“We want to wash.” Protested the oldest girl.

“So! Wash.” Declared Janice. “The pool’s big enough for everybody.”

“It’s private.” Declared the oldest boy. “We want to strip off.”

“So strip off. There’s nobody here but us girls.”

“No. I mean strip right off. We want to bath properly.”

“So strip right off. “ Grinned Janice. “We won’t look.”

“You’d better get out of the pool.” Challenged the boy. “I’m not going to let you look at my sisters.”

I was beginning to get a bit nervous. The boy was a well formed lad without an ounce of fat and well muscled for his thirteen years. He obviously did a lot of physical work as his family moved around. I suppose if I had been a homosexual, I would have been attracted to him for he was an attractive boy. Then I realised what was afoot. Janice was attracted to him and wanted to see him naked. Janice was pushing the boundaries. The problem was that if the boy got physical, we five timid effeminate sissies would not be able to defend ourselves. Mistress Janet’s thoroughly feminised sissies were physically enfeebled and naturally timid and submissive. Already we had gathered into a frightened bunch in the middle of the pool like sheep being stalked by a wolf. The boy was eyeing us boldly and his mind set was obvious. We were only a bunch of panty-waisted, timid, squealing girls

“You’d better get out, now!” He ordered.

We sissies moved nervously to obey him but Janice was having none of his hectoring. She stood her ground.

“I’m not getting out. This is our pool! You can wash if you like, but we’re not moving.”

The boy presumed wrongly that Janice was laying false title to the pool by dint of having arrived first. He did not realise that Janice and I were ‘the people from the farm’. Auntie Bev and Uncle Penny still jointly owned the cottage and this part of the woods. The gypsies called our cottage ‘The farm’ for it had once been the estate farm but the fields had been turned into forest a few decades earlier. The gypsy started to strip and quickly made himself naked before plunging into the pool and surfacing right beside Janice. As he emerged from the water he stood over her.

“Are you going to leave the pool?”

“No!” Replied Janice boldly.

The boy immediately took hold of her, picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. Then he splashed towards the bank as Janice squealed and laughed.

“Put me down, you big lummox!”

He put her down as ordered but out of the pool and onto the bank. Janice immediately stood up, ran a small way around the pool and dived into the pool again. It was obviously an invitation to be chased. The boy frowned uncertainly. It wasn’t wise for gypsies to antagonise locals for he had seen plenty of instances of such confrontation. His thirteen years belied his maturity and he did not want to become embroiled in some sort of trouble. After all, the clearing by the spring in the earl’s forest was one of the few remaining refuges were the genuinely Romany family could find shelter and peace. He did not want to compromise their families’ situation and invite trouble. He hesitated uncertainly and turned to his younger sister. She decided to defuse the situation and boldly stripped off to dive in beside her older brother.

“We can bath safely. They’re all girls, look.” She declared sweeping her hand dismissively over us timidly gathered sissies.
The boy glanced at us then turned again to his sister.

“Are you happy to be seen naked. We don’t know who they are.”

“We’re from the cottage; what you call ‘the farm’!” Squealed Janice for the first time realising that the gypsy boy had misunderstood her earlier claim to the pool.

The boy’s jaw sagged slightly as he realised his faux pas. If these strange silly girls were somehow related to the people who owned the farm then they really did own the stream, but the Old Earl had distinctly said they could use the pool. He was confused.

“The earl said he was related to the people in the farm.” He stated, now uncertain of his ground.

Janice turned to me and frowned but I nodded. We were as good as related to the earl, after all he was going to be our auntie’s father in law and that made us related somehow, even if it was only by marriage. Emboldened by my support, Janice declared that we were related even though it was not yet technically correct. Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie’s wedding was only a couple of weeks away. The gypsy children became very subdued. They were even more afraid of somehow offending the old earl even though they had known him for years and shared a good relationship.

“I’m sorry! We’ll go and come back later.” Offered the gypsy girl.

“There’s no need for that.” Smiled Janice. “The pool’s big enough for all of us. Do you always skinny dip?”

The gypsy boy hesitated before nodding uncertainly but Janice was clearly enamoured of his lean muscular form. She grinned invitingly then lowered herself and swam slowly around him as his eyes followed her rounded form. Then Janice stood up and ran some of the crystal clear water though her hands.

“I hope you’re not going to use soap. That would pollute the stream.”

“We used herbs.” Added the girl as she reached up on the bank and pulled a handful of mixed plants from a large hessian bag lying beside her discarded jeans.

“It’s natural soap.” Added the boy. “It doesn’t harm the stream.”

Janice paddled closer and inspected the herbs as the girl squeezed a handful then rubbed them vigorously with wetted hands. A soft pale green, creamy lather started to form in her hands and she held them out for Janice to smell.

“Mmm! That smells good. Come and smell it Michelle.”

I paddled cautiously forward and sensed the boy’s gaze fall on my well rounded form as I emerged to inspect the lather. The gypsy girl then rubbed it in her hair and it foamed quite luxuriously. Janice and I were quite impressed and naturally the other sissies became curious. Soon, the six of us were testing the herbs. Finally the gypsy boy invited the younger gypsy children into the pool and soon everybody was lathering themselves. The gypsy girl then invited us to remove our costumes but only Janice accepted the invite. We sissies couldn’t possibly reveal our waist control belts and strange anatomies. I was a bit jealous of Janice as she deftly slipped her costume off and let it hang from a branch as she paddled around the gypsy boy. Fortunately he was sufficiently cautious to refuse her crude ‘child-woman’ advances but he certainly accepted her offer to lather him down. Soon Janice’s hands were rubbing him down and investigating his body. He grinned invitingly but the moment Janice located his stiffening cock she became shy and squealed a protest.

“You’ll have to wash down there!”

He was obviously disappointed but ruefully attended to his lower body as Janice joined the gypsy girl and experimented with the herbs as a hair shampoo.

“They smell nice, what are they?”

“I don’t know. Our old granny Wiston makes it up.”

“Can I have some to take home?” Pressed Janice.

The gypsy girl shrugged then nodded. If it was a way of somehow breaking any ice, the real, genuine, herbal shampoo would serve an excellent purpose. When everybody had finished washing we swam and chased each other in the pool for a few minutes before separating and making our different ways home. As we trotted excitedly along the path, Angelica and Jemima commiserated with Nancy and Delilah about not being able to skinny dip with the gypsy children.

“If we weren’t wearing our waist control belts we could take our costumes off.” Sighed Angelica.

“But they’d see that we’re sissies,” protested Jemima, “they’d see our sissy clitties and realise were not girls. We haven’t got pussies!”

“You cant see under the water. If we were wearing bikinis we could at least take our tops off. I felt a bit stupid not being able to skinny dip.” Argued Angelica.

Jemima frowned then turned to Nancy and Delilah.

“What about you two?”

“Could we? Is it safe?” Simpered Nancy.

“If we stay in the water then turn away when we come out and get dressed. It should be OK.” Observed Angelica.

“We’d have to take off our belts though. Will Auntie Beverly allow that?” Wondered Delilah.

“It can’t do any harm. Not for a few hours in the pool. I’ll ask her tonight at dinner.” Added Janice as we finally emerged from the woods and picked our way across the pasture to the cottage.

Around the table as we dined, Janice put the question to Auntie Bev who studied us curiously.

“So why d’you want your belts off?” Asked Auntie Bev.

“It’s easier to swim if the water’s a bit deeper. We were thinking of damming up the pool and making it a bit deeper and longer, like a beaver dam.”

“Are you all good swimmers?” Asked Auntie Jamie.

We nodded enthusiastically. Mistress Janet made sure all her sissies could swim. Auntie Bev then smiled and nodded. We couldn’t swim far because of our sissified enervation but we could swim well for short spurts.

“OK then. But you be careful.” Now you two, go and get milked while the rest of you prepare for bed."

Angelica and Jemima minced away eagerly to the portable milking machine in the utility room while the rest of us prepared for bed. That night we were amazed at how glossy and luxurious our hair felt as we brushed it out. Janice sighed deliciously while Nancy and Delilah simpered ecstatically as we realised just how effective the gypsy herbal shampoo was. Once we were corseted and made ready for bed we couldn’t help but cuddle together in the one bed and savour the delicious sensation of our exceptionally silky hair as we slid our hands through each other’s locks and spread them contentedly on the satin sheets and pillows. Later Angelica and Jemima joined us and they also marvelled at the glossiness of their hair.

Later on Victoria and Portia came by to check up us six younger ones and they quickly noticed our hair. At that stage we kept the gypsy shampoo a secret for we thought the older girls might object to us skinny dipping with the gypsy children. In the morning, to our delight, Auntie Beverly produced her ‘Allan key’ and removed our waist belts for the day.
At first we felt a bit insecure without them and our backs also felt a bit weak. We found that the top weight of our breasts caused us to have to stiffen our backs that little bit more and as we walked to the pool we all felt our breasts beginning to strain our backs. Thus had our back muscles become atrophied and weakened by the permanent support of the corsets and waist control belts. By the time we had reached the pool, we were glad to slip into the water and savour the extra support of the crystal clear water as it caused our breasts to float comfortably in our bikini tops.

We started to build a small dam to lift the pool up a foot or so but we soon found that our slender sissified arms and large rounded breasts did not endear themselves to heavy manual work and we were glad when the gypsy children arrived. The older boy soon arranged several large stones at the downstream outlet and created an effective dam which deepened the pool sufficiently to provide an area about forty metres diameter for swimming. When the gypsy children stripped unconcernedly to savour the fun, we sissies cautiously followed suit by removing first our bikini tops and hanging them from the branch then we cautiously slipped out of our bikini bottoms whilst keeping our secret paces submerged. We five sissies felt ever so daring! Janice on the other hand became quite bold with the gypsy boy and they were soon horse-playing in the water whilst both indulging in some salacious curiosity. We soon discovered that none of us could make out underwater details without goggles and thus our sissy secrets were safe provided we kept our bums and sissy clitties submerged. The truth was that our sissy clitties were so small that it was impossible to discern any detail underwater as our tiny, atrophied nubbins nestled furtively deep in our crotches.

Thus emboldened we nervously joined the gypsy children and the bathing session soon developed into a game of tag. The woods began to ring with shrieks and screams of delight as we indulged in a rare and totally uninhibited game of tag. Eventually we tired of the game and started to emerge from the pool in dribs and drabs as we gathered our bikinis from the branch and carefully covered ourselves before emerging totally from the pool. That is of course except for Janice who boldly joined the older gypsy boy naked on the grassy bank. We sissies were shocked and jealous to see him sporting an erection that held Janice enthralled. She couldn’t resist fingering it as they snogged on the bank. Eventually I became frightened that their embrace might go too far and I nervously suggested that it was time for dinner. The boy was very reluctant to separate from the embrace but Janice seemed a little frightened. His erection was now probing urgently at the portals of her girlhood.

“We, - we’ve got to go Janice. We mustn’t be late for dinner.”

“You go,” suggested the boy impatiently, “Janice and I can stay here.”

“No.” I replied nervously. “We’ve got to go.”

Fortunately Janice came to her senses. What had started out as adolescent horseplay was now getting out of hand. Janice did not want to go further. She squirmed fearfully and protested at his advances until eventually the boy cursed then released her from his embrace. By now, even the boy’s gypsy sister had realised things had gone too far and she joined us in our protests.

“Get off her! You mustn’t cause trouble. They won’t let us play here again if you hurt her.” She added.

The boy cursed again and stood up as he took his clothes from the bush and hurriedly dressed. His unruly erection was reluctant to be buried in his jeans but eventually he made himself respectable and Janice scrambled into her bikini before throwing her towel around her shoulders.

We parted after the gypsy girl made her older brother apologise and with a promise to meet again the next day but not go skinny dipping. It was the first time we had ever seen just how much a real boy could lose control when a girl ‘led him on’. It was a salutary lesson for us sissies and Janice. She had learned just how powerful her sexuality was.

For the rest of that fortnight, Janice was much more circumspect about her frolicking with the boy and he was wise enough to realise that he had gone too far.

After the first fortnight of the holidays at the cottage, we returned to the pub in Pimlico in London and the gypsy children had the woods to themselves. They never learned about our sissified bodies.

The middle weeks of the holidays were spent in London as preparations for Auntie Beverly’s wedding to Auntie Jamie went apace. Then for the last weeks we returned to the cottage in preparation for the wedding we sissies had to make several visits to Miss Stern’s boutique where we were fitted for our beautiful bride’s-maid’s gowns. Inevitably, poor old Angelica and Jemima had trouble controlling their hissy fits every time they saw each other wearing identical gowns. We did not know it but Nancy, Delilah and I would start to suffer the same hysterical tantrums when we reached the next year at school for we did not realise that Mistress Janet employed some further sinister mind altering techniques on the second year pupils.

For the wedding though, Nancy, Delilah and I were blissfully happy to wear identical gowns and share the delights of soft satiny fabrics hissing and slithering about our satiny corsets as we minced about hardly able to curtail our excitement. In fact Victoria and Sophia had to lock our gowns away after the final fitting for fear of us three spoiling them before the big day.
Soon that big day arrived and we sissies were delighted as we put on our gowns and fussed about in a haze of satin and hair spray. To help with the arrangements, Miranda came over from Miss Stern’s boutique in the country town. She took us younger ones under her wing whilst Uncle Penny, Victoria and Sophia helped Auntie Bev get ready. Poor Auntie Bev got into a terrible state but Miranda assured us that every bride did on the morning of her wedding.

Finally we were ready and Miranda bundled us six younger ones into the first car whilst Victoria, Sophia and Auntie Bev arrived in the second car with Uncle Penny acting as her father to give her away. It seemed somewhat incongruous that Uncle Penny should be wearing a beautiful gown of blue that was every bit as pretty as Victoria’s and Sophia’s. However, she had chosen a design without a full hooped skirt so she could easily support Auntie Bev on her arm. We sissies got ever so excited and Miranda had to get very firm with us as she arranged us in matching pairs by height to form a bridal train. When we entered the church we were all delighted to see Auntie Jamie also wearing his white gown that perfectly complemented Auntie Bev’s gown and they smiled and kissed as Auntie Bev arrived at the altar. I thought that Auntie Jamie must have been incredibly brave to wear such a beautiful gown and stand at the altar in front of the whole congregation from the village whilst waiting for his bride to arrive.

Admittedly, he had asked another transvestite friend from the alternative life-styler's club to act as his best girl and she also wore a beautiful pink gown, so Auntie Jamie had some sort of moral support. In truth the bravest person at the wedding was probably the old Earl, Auntie Jamie’s dad. After all he had to live with the sniggering and tittering amongst the village folk after Jamie returned to London.

At the wedding however, the villagers had enough decorum to be friendly towards Auntie Jamie and her new wife. He had been a popular boy in the village as a child especially after the arrogance of his older half sisters. These women hadn’t even attended the wedding and I knew they were invited for I helped write out the cards and post them.

The reception was held back at the main house and I was pleased to find the gypsies had been invited. Apparently there was yet another old family tradition that involved the gypsies being invited to the family weddings. This apparently went back hundreds of years as well. I secretly wondered if there was some sort of old curse that would befall the family if the gypsies weren’t invited. When I asked Granny Wiston, the old gypsy matriarch she cackled loudly and kissed me affectionately before assuring me that nothing of the sort existed.

Once the wedding breakfast was over we sissies were free to roam about the house and peek into every room. After all, Janice and I were family now, nieces of Auntie Jamie’s. In marrying Auntie Bev, Auntie Jamie had to accept that she came with two adopted nieces, namely Janice and me. That night we had the awesome pleasure of sleeping in the big house while Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie took off on their honeymoon with Uncle Penny as a companion. As house guests, the others all shared beds in the big house as well.

The following morning, after breakfast, as we took a constitutional stroll around the grounds we lost Janice. After breakfast, she disappeared and we all wondered where she had gone. Nobody thought to check the gypsy camp. At eleven o’clock a very distressed and tearful Janice reappeared with her beautiful frock torn and her face badly bruised. The gardener immediately took her in hand and took her in to see the old earl.

Apparently because it was such a beautiful morning, she had made her way to the stream and set off towards the pool. She was hoping to find the older Gypsy boy swimming with the others but instead she found the younger boy of about eleven splashing about alone. The boy was nothing like his older brother and he decided to try and force his unwanted attentions upon Janice. In his mind, swimming in the nude earlier that summer, gave him licence to try for the jackpot.

Fortunately, Janice was able to fend him off and her sturdy corsets had served a useful purpose in denying the boy easy access to her secret places. However the assault had been quite violent and Janice had suffered several blows to the face. In the struggle her beautiful frock had also been badly ripped. Her cries and screams had fortunately attracted the attention of the older brother who was also out collecting wood and berries with his other younger siblings. He had arrived to find his younger brother fighting furiously with Janice and his intentions were obvious. Janice was beginning to lose the fight.

The older boy immediately grabbed his younger brother and flung him into the pool while his sisters attended to Janice. They cleaned her up and escorted Janice to the edge of the woods but they were too afraid to accompany her all the way to the big house.
After the earl learned of this he went to see the gypsy family. The families were as shocked and saddened to learn of the attack and brought the younger boy forward to confess. Apparently, the boy was a ‘bad-un’ and the parents were at their wit’s ends wondering what to do about him. Uncle Penny quietly took the earl and the boy’s parent’s aside and suggested the boy be sent to Mistress Janice’s academy. The parents simply wanted him out of their hair for he had antagonised local residents in several different places. As the boy grew older, bigger and stronger, there was a real possibility that a serious incident might occur and the gypsy clan would be barred from yet more of the ever shrinking number of sites that they still managed to cling onto.

Offensive, urbanised incomers to many of the older, picturesque, country villages had taken offence when they found the gypsies coming by and attempting to set up camp on old historic sites that they had used for centuries. Their city born experiences of urbanised scrap dealers and thieves had given the honest gypsy families a bad name. The boy’s parents were frightened. The earl’s forest site was just about the last peaceful, local, summer location where they could find a peaceful, trouble free, long term site.

“But we can’t afford those sorts of school fees,” they cried.

“The fees can be sorted by other means,” replied the old earl.

They looked uncertainly at the old man then again at the boy who showed no remorse. In fact he was smirking, as though challenging his parents to invite trouble by going to the police. The old earl could see the conflict in the parent’s minds and he pushed his case harder.

“He’ll come back a changed person.” He declared as he saw the arrogance glittering in the boy’s eye. “You’ll have a co-operative, little kitchen helper who will never wander far from the camp or pester any girls again.”

This last argument convinced the parents for all the girls in the extended family clan had complained at some time or another in the last year about his behaviour to them. Recently it had become a serious problem. The boy was idle as well as troublesome.
As the relief showed in their eyes, they nodded silently and turned to the old earl.

“Will we still be allowed to camp here each summer?”

The earl nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes. There’s no accounting for a ‘bad-un’ popping up in any family. God knows, look at my own son James. He behaves like a woman, dresses like a woman and even has a woman’s name. I don’t understand a bit of it but black sheep always pop up occasionally. It happens in all families. I don’t blame you for the boy’s behaviour. Aye, you can stay and keep coming to my woods, but I think my suggestion is a good one. The boy needs to be stopped. That academy is reputed to have some unusual successes.”

“So who will pay the fees?” They pressed.

“I will. Fees are not a problem,” replied the earl. My son - or daughter if you will — has a successful business.

The relief in the gypsy parent’s eyes shone large as they nodded agreement. The mother particularly, almost sagged with relief. The earl accepted their invitation to eat at their fire side for he had often enjoyed their al-fresco forest fare as a young child.. We sissies’ and Janice joined the old earl in sharing a delicious stew from the gypsy’s common pot then as the evening shadows lengthened we picked our way home. In the house Uncle Jenny confirmed that the gypsy boy would be attending Mistress Janet’s Academy as a first year pupil that very autumn. Delilah and Nancy grinned and tittered as they simpered with satisfaction. That would mean they would no longer be the junior in our group.

Eventually that summer ended and gone were the carefree days of being allowed to wear only our tight waist slimming shaper belts that gave us our tiny sissy waists. The autumn term arrived at Mistress Janet’s and we found ourselves back in full corsets with the delightful frilly frocks and regular high-discipline accoutrements. I must confess though that we all finally confessed that we had come to like our uniforms. Even Nancy and Delilah, who had started out as reluctant sissies now found themselves secretly enjoying their newfound sissified conditions. It was quite remarkable what a year of psychiatric adjustments and strict corseting could do to a troublesome boy. Nancy and Delilah were now every bit as sissified as me.

To any readers.
I am off to Brighton in Southern England (The Gay Capital of Southern England,) for a few days so I won’t be writing much.
Chapters 16, 17 and 18 will be forthcoming in about a month or so.
Sorry it takes so long. (I work Shifts.)
Beverly Taff.
P.S. Wed 7th July 2010
The last note was written when I posted this to FM in 2006/7 & 8. I left it in to give readers some idea of the chronology of this story.
(Brighton was brill by the way, and I’ve since been back!) -Many times!

Here we finally get to learn of the Sissy farm and bimboisation preocedures.
Just got back from Manchester Sparkle where I had a screamingly good time. (Go to my blog for piccies!) So I'm recharged and ready to fly.

Hope all you sissy lovers enjoy this chapter. Yes, I have to say there is forced feminisation, forced sissification and forced bimboisation in this chapter but, as the man said. 'You can't please all the people all of the time.'

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16 Sissy Farm

The Sissy Farm.
Part 6.

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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,

The Sissy farm.

Chapter 16.

September found our group filling two minibuses as we returned to Mistress Janet’s Academy for young Ladies. Nancy, Delilah and I were particularly excited for this was the year we entered middle school and were finally inducted into the sissy herd. I could almost feel my nipples tingling with anticipation as Auntie’s Beverly and Jamie drove us schoolwards
In the front minibus, Victoria, Jemima, Angelica and Sophia sat with Auntie Jamie and most of the luggage whilst we younger ones shared the second minibus with Aunty Beverly. Janice and we three sissies chattered away gaily whilst in the back, David the young Gypsy boy sat silent and pale. Occasionally we glanced back at him but he seemed particularly subdued as he struggled to accustom his body to the rigours of his corset. David, or Davinia as we called her now, had not even started hormones yet.

There had not been time to have her seen to by Auntie Bev’s doctor. The school doctor had yet to examine her and determine the correct dosages. As a consequence, Davinia was still a boy and he desperately wanted to rebel against his feminisation but his tight corset utterly prevented any violent struggles that might invoke breathlessness. We now considered him as a girl and referred to him as she or her. Poor Davinia had several times struggled furiously against her corseting but had quickly run short of breath as the tight bodice utterly constrained her breathing. After several feinting attacks and fits of the vapours, poor Davinia had reluctantly been forced to suffer her constrained condition even though she hated it. Consequently she sat silent and fearful in the back and utterly unable to escape from the minibus.

“Are you alright in the back darling?” Asked Auntie Bev.

“My corset’s hurting. It’s too tight.” Whimpered Davinia as though this might somehow persuade Auntie Bev to stop the minibus and slacken her corset laces.

We all giggled at Davinia’s complaint then resumed chattering and giggling as we anticipated returning to school. Just before lunch we arrived at the school and gaily tumbled out of the minibuses as we renewed old acquaintances. Eventually one of the Mistresses turned up, studied Davinia and spoke to Auntie Bev.

“Is this the new girl?”

Auntie Bev spoke briefly to explain the circumstances and Davinia was led away. We smiled as Davinia struggled to keep up with the mistress as her knee-length corset forced her to take delicate little effeminate steps while her heels clicked noisily on the tiled floor of the long corridor. We watched until she disappeared through a door at the far end of the corridor then we turned to our tasks of carrying our luggage up to our rooms. Poor Nancy and Delilah still had to endure a dormitory with four other girls and they glanced enviously at our 2 bed roomed study. Fortunately though, they now shared the same landing for they had been moved down from the junior landing on the upper floor.

Normally our tight corsets would not now have caused us to run out of breath for we had become accustomed to taking shallow little effeminate breaths, but the additional task of hauling our luggage up the stares had taken much extra effort. As we all stood panting on the landing struggling to recover our breaths, Nancy peered enviously into our study and sighed breathlessly.

“Why do you two get to keep this room?”

“It’s because we are brother and sister.” Replied Janice.

“Yes but usually only senior girls usually get to have single rooms or share a double. All the younger sissies get dormitories until they are assigned a mistress for training.” Added Delilah.

“But we are the only brother and sister twins in the school.” Lied Janice who was actually younger than me but the same size.
In fact in the last school year, my sister Janice had actually grown slightly more than me but that was because as a girl and trainee mistress, she had a slightly larger waist. I still had slightly larger breasts than her and I knew Janice was ever so envious of my generous endowments. My breasts heaved noticeably as we all stood gasping for air after struggling with several cases of luggage. After recovering from our exertions, we stored our luggage in our room then helped Nancy and Delilah store theirs in their dormitory which was now on the same landing. They had moved down from the first-year dormitory one floor above. Fortunately we had arrived early back at school so Nancy and Delilah got to bag the best cubicles closest to the door that opened onto our landing. It would be an easy matter for them to slip into our room whenever we invited them. After unpacking our clothes and storing them properly in our lockers and cupboards, the lunch bell rang and we minced contentedly down to the refectory.

I felt secure and confident again to be properly corseted and subject to the well understood rigours and disciplines of the academy. I had grown to like the disciplinary boundaries for they let me know where I stood.

In the dining hall we met up again with Julia and she made us welcome. For that first meal we were allowed to sit where we chose, dining arrangements were only sorted out after the whole school had returned and the new juniors were allotted to their mentors and dining places. This year as new middle schoolers, Nancy, Delilah and I would be table monitors and required to serve the other pupils. It would be the year when we would learn domestic tasks while our bodies started to produce milk.
After remaking Julia’s acquaintance in the dining hall, I joined my sissy friends and we stood in the queue as the third year sissies prepared the food for us to distribute. Soon I was mincing between the tables serving out the food for the other pupils to select their preferences. Finally when all the food had been served out in tureens, vegetable bowls and large hot plates, we settled at a preferred table as the dining hall fell silent. Mistress Janet tapped loudly on a glass and made a few announcements. After these were finished, we were made to say our prayers then we served ourselves from the bowls and tureens.

After lunch we had the afternoon to organise our preferred academic subjects in addition to our compulsory sissy lessons. In most sissies’ cases, these academic subjects were determined by their parents or carers but occasionally, (and I was one of the lucky ones because Auntie Bev was very kind,) we were allowed to choose our preferences. Nancy and Delilah were allowed no choice for their carers were technically the lawyers acting for them in the courts after they had been taken away from their uncaring parents. As a consequence, their options were left to the school. Nancy and Delilah were to be bimboised. Apart from the standard sissy domestic chores that all sissies were compelled to study, nearly all Nancy and Delilah’s other lessons related to making themselves pretty and obedient. In truth this was probably the best for them. Their intellects had virtually stopped developing and they could now only read short simple sentences whilst numbers had become a total mystery. As adult sissies they would always need a mistress to help them manage their simple sissified lives. Conversely, they would find all domestic tasks and caring duties a breeze.

Nancy and Delilah followed Janice and I around the main hall as we chose our academic subject then we accompanied the bimboised pair as they simpered inanely whilst giggling ineffectually as they were signed up for make up, laundry cares and household cleaning studies.

‘Poor dears,’ I thought, ‘theirs would forever be a life of service and duty to their mistresses.’

The only extra sissy lesson I added to my curriculum was of course ‘hair dressing’ and the mistress responsible for these lessons smiled and hugged me as I signed up.

“I’m so pleased for you Michelle,” she remarked, “you’re just a natural with hair and you’ve got a perfect flair for it.”

“Thank you Mistress Davies.” I replied respectfully.

“Is Janice going to study fashion and design?” She asked.

Janice nodded and smiled as Mistress Davies nodded towards Mistress Le’Tromp’s table and called happily.

“One for you Miss Le’Tromp.”

“Oh Goody! I see you’ve got your hoped for prize.” She replied.

“Oh yes. Best prize of the whole year.” Grinned Mistress Davies who was well aware of my natural tonsorial skills.

After happily choosing our classes, we skipped outside into the September sun and met with Aunties Bev and Jamie Sophia and Victoria were also there making their farewells but of Angelica and Jemima there was nothing to be seen. When Janice asked Auntie Bev explained.

“Why they’ve gone to be milked darling. They’ve chosen the second dairy option and have to be milked three times daily.”

Nancy, Delilah and I fell silent. We were all wondering what strange delights must be involved in sissy milking that made sissies choose to do it three times a day. Even dairy cows only needed milking twice daily. Auntie Bev sensed our curiosity and smiled indulgently.

“Once you’ve joined the herd darling you’ll get to understand. Lot’s of sissies choose the second options. Now have you any other questions, Auntie Jamie and I have to get on.”

We all exchanged glances then wagged our heads and kissed our aunties goodbye before we joined with Sophia and Victoria and minced back to the school hall. There would be a general assembly before dinner then the evening would be our own. School proper only started the next morning. That evening we minced up to our study early and invited Nancy and Delilah for a chat.
In truth we were curious about being turned into members of the sissy herd and we chatted long into the night. Eventually we were told off by Sophia who ordered us to bed as she took up her first prefectural duties for the whole dorm.

“You’re up early in the morning because you’ve got your first sissy herd lecture. You’d better get used to early morning rises.”

Reluctantly, Nancy and Delilah minced off to their dormitory whilst Janice and I slipped into our bed. Naturally we investigated each other’s breasts and nipples as we giggled and whispered ideas about producing milk. As ever, our corseting prevented any access to more intimate parts. The next morning, Victoria roused the middle school sissies at five o’clock. Janice and I slipped from our study and joined them in the showers. As we showered naked in the communal stall Janice and I could not help but feel the curious stares of the other sissies as their eyes kept flitting enviously to our genitalia. Janice of course as a girl destined to be my mistress, was endowed of the normal arrangements of a girl but my atrophied boy clitty was nothing more than a one inch appendage that resembled nothing more than a baby’s organ. It would never grow to a man’s cock and would forever be a reminder that I was never to be sufficiently endowed to please my mistress by the normally accepted penetrative mores of heterosexuality. Even when erected, it was little more than a rigid little two inch stiffy that could do little more than titillate a woman’s clitoris and perhaps probe curiously at the portals of her secret places. Total penetration was forever to be denied me. However, my little fleshy protuberance was a very sensitive trigger. Hormones and feminisation from my early years had turned my ‘boy clitty’ into an organ every bit as sensitive as a girl’s clitty. My clitty had just as many nerve endings and receptors as Janice’s proper girl clitty. Consequently I was a very responsive and horny sissy. Despite my clitty being a modest, infantile organ it was still a thing of envy for the other sissies.

By the time Miss Janet’s sissies had reached middle school their male characteristics had all but disappeared. Where once there might have been a boy’s penis with all the promise of adult male vigour, there was now only a tiny, shiny, pinkish, purple nubbin located at the base of their soft rounded tummies and totally devoid of hair. However, despite these nubbins being only about a quarter of an inch high and an inch diameter, they were every bit as sensitive and erotic as a girl’s clitty. A sissy’s nubbin was tantamount to a car’s starter button. With no pubic hair to cover their nubbins, sissies had no way of disguising their starter buttons and they would always be available for use by their mistresses if their mistresses so chose.

It only took a few tender caresses on the nubbin and a sissy was soon reduced to a simpering, horny, servile slave. We were to learn why sissies had no pubic hair in later Sissy Farm lessons.

Like the other sissies, I was also totally devoid of hair and, strangely, so was Janice. Her vaginal lips were plainly visible and resembled nothing less than the peachy, delicate petals of some strange elongated tropical flower whilst her clitty lay nestled inside the petals like some obvious stamen or pistil inviting attention.

In the showers the tension was hanging like thick incense as we assisted our partners and luxuriated in the hot soapy suds. Fortunately we had plenty of time for Victoria had roused us early and she also joined us amidst the suds and hot sprays.

“Right everybody. Waist belts off. As middle schoolers, you’re allowed to shower with your belts off. Everybody line up to be unlocked.”

This was our first surprise as middle schoolers and we eagerly presented ourselves to be unlocked from our torturous belts. There were sighs of relief but Victoria soon brought us back to reality as we fingered our own and our partner’s waists.
“Don’t worry darlings; you’ll have to put them back on again after your shower. Make the most of it.”

As we savoured the brief respite, Victoria explained more about the sissy farm to us as we eagerly soaped our partners.

“Once you come into milk, your breasts will demand to be released in the early hours of each morning. By five o’clock your needs will propel you from your beds but the dairy does not open until seven. Those early hours are a wonderful time to indulge in other needs before you can find relief for your swollen breasts. The showers with their hot sprays and steamy secrecy will enable you to indulge in any other reliefs you might need. However, you will find that the dairy best serves those needs and today’s first lesson will explain. Now all of you hurry up and get ready for class. You will be starting your lactation medications this morning so the doctor will want to check every one of you.”

Finally, Victoria turned to Janice and smiled indulgently.

“Are you sure you want to join the sissy herd?”

Janice nodded and smiled as she demonstrated her affection for me and kissed me softly on the lips. Victoria’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you only doing it for Michelle? If you are, just remember that you’ll be a milker until your menopause.”

Janice shrugged and smiled.

“I can still be her mistress. Having milk doesn’t affect my being a mistress.”

Victoria nodded agreement.

“Indeed not darling, but just remember, once you start lactating, you’ll always be a slave to your breasts. Twice a day you’ll have to be milked. Three times a day sometimes if the pills prove too powerful. Their effects can be unpredictable for girls. Just look at Julia, she’s totally in thrall to her breasts.”

“But she chose to be a supermilker and she likes it,” I added. Julia had made it abundantly clear to me that she enjoyed being milked.

“True,” replied Victoria, “but she’ll always be in thrall to her milk. It takes a certain special kind of sissy to be that dedicated, especially as she hasn’t been bimboised.”

“Well I want to share the same pleasures as Michelle,” replied Janice and that was her final answer.

“Well, good luck.” Finished Victoria. “I must confess, the other girls who have chosen to join the herd have always said they enjoy it. I suppose it’s some sort of suckling complex.”

With these final words, Victoria left us savouring our total nudity for a full thirty minutes before she switched off the showers to a chorus of groans and sighs from us all. The steam started to dissipate out of the extractor fans and we all stood pink and shiny as we reluctantly took our towels and gently patted each other dry. As sissies, we had all long ago been forced to avoid towelling ourselves down vigorously. Our nipples and nubbins were far too sensitive to withstand such invasive and stimulating activity. Finally, Victoria checked us all out and made sure our waist trimmer belts were replaced and refastened down to the regulatory sixteen inches and then locked. Janice was the last to be checked and Victoria smiled as she checked out Janice’s eighteen inches.

“You be careful not to make your waist too small darling. Babies and stuff, you understand.”
Janice smiled and nodded.

“I’m still young. But I’ll never let my waist exceed twenty inches unless I’m pregnant.”

“Good girl. Now off you go and get dressed, the juniors will be here soon.”

We returned to our study and savoured the extra time to indulge in brushing each other’s hair then dressing ready for the day. By six thirty we were dressed and ready as Victoria lined the whole middle class up and led us to the dairy farm block. It was here we would also have our lectures and medical checks as well as our milking sessions. The older sissies were already queued up and fidgeting with their breasts as they waited impatiently for the doors to open. I saw Julia at the head of the queue and smiled as I waved. She waved back just as the locks slid back with a loud click and Julia almost fell through the door accompanied by Jane her supermilker partner. Victoria turned to me and smiled.

“Julia and Jane always get to be first in the queue. They’re supermilkers and their needs are greatest.”

I nodded knowingly for Julia had already described her condition to me. Then as the queue filed into the milking hall, we followed curiously. This was our first introduction to the milking hall and we stared with eyes wide open.

Each couple of sissies were freeing their breasts from the nursing cups of their corset bras then attaching a pair of double headed teats to their nipples as they faced each other. Once they were ready, they switched on the vacuum pump and milk quickly started to splash into the transparent bell shaped cups that sucked hungrily at their nipples. Within seconds each sissy was smiling and gasping as their nipples were gradually sucked further into the teats until they mashed against each other and their milk spurted against each other’s nipples. It was obvious that all the sissies were enjoying the sensations for they were sighing and squirming and embracing each other as their nipples were mashed harder and harder against each other inside the transparent teats. Beside them there was a meter that recorded their combined milk delivery and occasionally the sissies would glance at the dial and tap it hopefully.

“What are they doing that for?” Asked Nancy.

Victoria turned and explained.

“If they produce more than two litres of milk then they can put on their partner panties.”

“Partner panties?” Wondered Delilah as the whole of our class listened attentively.

“Yes.” Continued Victoria. “If they jointly produce more than two litres they earn a privilege. Their corset crotches are unfastened and they can attach a little vacuum head to their nubbins. They step into a pair of combined ‘partner panties to hold them close together. Then they can lie down and have their nubbins sucked until they enjoy a shared sissygasm. Their nipples and sissy clitties are being stimulated at the same time. That’s their reward for being such good milkers.”

Even as Victoria spoke, a little bell tinkled and we all turned to see that Julia and Jane had already achieved their two litre target. As both sissies leaned back and ‘presented’ their crotches for attention, a senior girl ‘dairy-maid’ stepped from a small office and reached up under Julia and Jane’s corsets where she unclipped the suspender belts, (garter belts to cross-ponders,) loosened their corsets, freed the front fasteners of their corsets then unfastened their crotch poppers. The corsets slipped free and the sissies were virtually naked. Julia and Jane were now free to mash their sissy clitties against each other as their bared tummies kissed. Next, the senior girl ‘dairy-maid’ slipped a pair of high-waisted spandex ‘partner panties’ up the sissy’s legs and both sissies were firmly squeezed together. These spandex panties were a strange arrangement wherein they had four legs but only one torso. The legs stretched down to just above the knees whilst the single high waisted torso stretched up to their bra line and clamped their tummies together in most intimate and sensual embrace. Once the sissies were conjoined in their 'partner panties there was no way they could separate their lower bodies. To tell the truth it was obvious that they did not want to. Julia and Jane were clamped together in one of the most passionate embraces that any of us middle schoolers had ever seen. . The senior girl ‘diary-maid’ then introduced a small double headed teat through a tiny aperture in the crotch of the panties then attached it jointly to both sissies’ tiny nubbins. As the vacuum was introduced into this lower suction cup, the tiny teat clamped itself to both sissies’ clitties and they let out a simultaneous squeak of delight as their bright little purple nubbins were sucked into the teat and quickly mashed against each other just like their nipples. Julia and Jane were now connected at their three most sensitive points, their nipples and their sissy clitties. Their sensitive nubbins were sucked together inside the lower suction cup.

So this was the big secret of the sissy farm! Provided Mistress Janet’s sissies produced enough milk, they enjoyed one of the best orgasms a human being could experience and they got to enjoy it at least twice a day. As we watched, Julia and Jane were now squealing and moaning uncontrollably as their sissified bodies overwhelmed all inhibitions.

Victoria and the other senior ‘dairy-maid’ smiled benignly as Julia and Jane squirmed and humped oblivious to all else. We middle schoolers simply watched enthralled by the display until we were distracted from our contemplations by a second bell. Another pair of sissies had reached their two litre target. As the senior dairy-maid attended to this second pair another bell rang and another girl appeared from the control room to attend the third couple’s needs.

Victoria then turned and explained further.

“These three couples are the best milkers in the herd so they invariably get to enjoy a sissygasm almost every time they are milked. Except that Julia and Jane don’t get relieved during their extra noontime milking. We have learned that if they sissygasm during the day they tend to become sleepy and inattentive to their lessons. It’s much better if they are frustrated during the noontime milking then the suspense of waiting for their evening sissygasm keeps them alert and responsive. They have lots of academic lessons to attend to because they have not been bimboised. Julia and Jane are quite an exceptional couple and triple milking is a very unusual novelty for academic sissies. We have not yet worked out how they will manage at university. They will need considerable help and support in combining their dairy duties with their academic studies.”

We middle schoolers nodded intently as we watched the sissies writhing and gasping ecstatically as their attached milking machines rhythmically sucked away. Eventually most of the herd set off their two litre bells and were helped into their partner pants to indulge themselves by way of sissygasm rewards. Indeed, we watchers were beginning to feel some strange urges ourselves for the whole scene was now one huge orgy of carnal indulgence and several of the ‘dairymaids’ were also beginning to address each other’s needs.

Thus we had learned that ‘milking sessions’ were little more than the sissy equivalent of an orgy. It was no wonder that the dairy block was separated from the school for the noise of satiated lust was beginning to resemble a barnyard. Sissies squealed and cried in animal lust. After witnessing this scene, we newly inducted sissy herd members could hardly wait to become milkers. Already I could feel warm squidgy waves of lust rippling inside my tummy and I could not resist squeezing my knees together in a furtive attempt to allay what was obviously the onset of my very own sissygasm. Janice, who was holding my hand, also sensed my arousal and she squeezed my hand eagerly as she smiled at me and intimated her own condition. Victoria had already recognised the tension building amongst us onlookers and she smiled with delicious mischievousness as she interrupted our indulgences.

“Well darlings. That’s enough of that for one day. We must leave these dear creatures to complete their duties while we visit Doctor Evans. Her medications will soon enable you to join in these delights.”

We sissies all groaned as one as Victoria herded us out of the milking hall and led us to Doctor Evans’ clinic. As we filed in Doctor Evans ordered us all to sit as she explained the lactation programme.

“Now my darling sissies,” she began with a sweet becoming smile, “the whole principle of Mistress Janet’s philosophy is that a lady should never have to demean herself by indulging in demeaning tasks or degrading work. Quite naturally, hard heavy dirty work is the proper sphere of strong men because their powerful bodies are better equipped for such tasks. We ladies are quite prepared to leave those areas free for men to dominate.

In the academic sphere we ladies will concede that men can be the intellectual equals of women and here such tasks and rewards should be shared equally by each according to his or her ability. It is in those grey areas where women find themselves reduced to menial degrading tasks that Mistress Janet finds offense; such jobs as cleaning, serving, domestic bondage and bowing to the assumed superiority of others. Mistress Janet, and indeed all the other staff at this academy, find such assumptions offensive and we believe that a lady should be allowed to enjoy all the privileges of a gentleman. To this end it is quite right that if a lady chooses to, she should be allowed to have a partner or companion who is the junior partner in any relationship and subservient to that lady’s will. Such a partner would be always readily available to provide support and comfort to a lady as well as providing for familial or domestic duties. In short she may choose to have a sissy for a companion.

Naturally such a sissy would also be obedient to her whims and considerate of her bodily needs but of course totally unable to oppress or overwhelm her and utterly incapable of forcing his attentions upon her. All ladies find the idea of sexual threat abhorrent yet the idea of sexual attention and satisfaction is always attractive. Mistress Janet and the academy have concluded that such a life style can only be achieved for a lady if she is the mistress in the relationship and enjoys clear control over her partner. In return for total loyalty, obedience and servility, her sissy partner receives security, assurance and stability from her mistress. The relationship works well and so far, the academy has had very few failures. You will have noticed during the summer, pre school old-pupil reunions that the sissies and their mistresses are very contented and secure.”

I shifted on my seat and squeezed Janice’s hand as Doctor Evans continued. She explained the various principles and mechanisms whereby a sissy’s contentment could be assured. Bimboisation was a favoured device for those who had been ‘bad boys’ and or continued to be rebellious sissies. By this process drugs and hormones were administered to reduce the sissy’s intellect whilst enhancing her feminine awareness.

It was quite amusing to watch a recalcitrant sissy in her first year screaming and struggling to resist the corsets whilst at the same time her food was secretly laced with drugs and hormones. By the end of her first year, the poor sissy was a soft skinned, curvy, effeminate, obedient little bimbo who would find it almost impossible to understand even the most basic of academic studies whilst her sissified mind kept drifting to the pretty shade of her lipstick or the state of her nails or the style of her hair. Additionally such bimboised sissies became particularly tactile and they could not resist touching and fondling their companions hair and faces whilst of course being utterly incapable of touching more intimate places because of their severe corseting. Such delicious little creatures would become the perfect partners for ambitious ladies who had little time for the drudgery of domestic life but who still wanted to enjoy the delights of motherhood and parenting coupled with their high flying careers. Thus it was explained at that first lesson given by Doctor Evans.

We intelligent sissies listened with keen attentiveness as we pondered the promised delights of lactation and nurturing children whilst the bimboised sissies hardly understood a word as they sat trying to understand the long words like ‘lactation’ and ‘hormones’. Inevitable their simplified minds kept drifting back to the shade of their nail varnish or the appearance of their hair as they tried to peek at their reflections in the glass doors of the lecture theatre. The poor bimboised little dears would never understand the processes involved but they would certainly grow to become addicted to the delights promised to the herd.
Alternatively, Janice and I both felt the crotches of our corsets becoming damp as we anticipated the forthcoming delights. I also noticed the other intelligent sissies twitching and squirming in their seats. Finally the lecture was over but Doctor Evans nodded to Janice and me as she released the class. We stayed back as she studied some notes.

“So Janice, you’re a proper girl I see.”

Janice nodded and smiled.

“Yes doctor.”

“And yet you still wish to join the sissy herd.”

Janice crimsoned slightly for her reasons to join the herd were somewhat licentious. Her nipples were already extremely sensitive and she secretly had a suckling complex. She stood with her head bent slightly trying to fix her non-committal gaze upon the floor but Doctor Evans had anticipated her reactions.

“There’s no shame to it darling. Several girls have joined and you will soon get to learn of them when you go out into the big wide world. The only thing is that it limit’s your freedom to travel. You always have to be within six hours of a milking machine or milking parlour. Are you prepared for that?”

Janice nodded self-consciously then added.

“I can always carry my little portable milking machine around with me. It’s not that big and even fits into hand-baggage.”

“Well indeed it isn’t darling, but when you go through customs at airports, it’s always a palaver when you try to explain its function. It shows up on the X-ray machine as a rather complex device and always alerts suspicion. Are you prepared for that?”

“So long as Michelle and I are together, I’ll cope.”

“Well, so long as you are alert to the complications. I can tell you there are no medical side effects that we know of except that you’ll always need to be milked at least twice a day. So long as you are prepared for that, I will start you on the course, just remember, it’s permanent until you reach your menopause.”

Doctor Evans turned to me and smiled.

“You’re a very lucky sissy. It’s very rare for a mistress to share this activity with her sissy. It means you’ll be milking partners for life.”

I smiled and swallowed nervously as the doctor amended her notes and nodded her head to release us. We skipped across the quadrangle just as the sissy herd was coming out of the dairy hall and we met Julia and Jane. They smiled at us and we made our way to our allotted breakfast tables. I was pleased to find Sophia as an upper sixth form senior was on my table. As head girl she did not have to supervise us second form middle schoolers as we served out the food.

That year, as a middle school sissy, it was my turn to be on the serving teams. To my despair, I was taken with all the other serving sissies to a special room and fitted with a butt plug. I was forced to lie on my back with my legs parted like all the other sissies with my corset hem unfastened and the tight crotch poppers undone.

Then a senior girl gently worked the butt plug into my sissy hole. Finally my corset was securely fastened up again so that there was no way for me to reach under the hem and somehow remove the plug. Already I was feeling the tip of the plug nosing intimately against my prostate gland and I could not help feeling somehow excited inside like I had never been excited before. I squirmed responsively gave a mewl of pleasure and but there was no way I could gain relief from the invasion.

The butt plug was securely embedded in my butt and there it would remain. As I smiled wanly, the girl who had invaded my most intimate sissy part then picked up a small device and fingered some buttons on the front of the controller. I gave a squeak of pleasure and quickly realised that the butt plug was a radio controlled device and the senior girl who held it also held me to account.

The girl gave a knowing smile and deftly fingered the controller to cause the butt plug to vibrate furiously and cause me to squeal with surprised delight.

“Ooh! Ooohh! That’s nice. Oooh-ooh!!” I squealed as the butt plug increased its tempo.

I now realised that my prostate gland had somehow become immensely sensitive and responsive and I was to learn later about the effects of the dairy herd hormones. I sagged with relief when the girl turned the butt plug off and she smiled softly at me.
“Oh! Why did you stop?” I gasped.

“”You mustn’t get too much too soon.” Smiled the girl. “You must become accustomed to things gradually. Besides, I don’t want to ruin you for other pleasures. Doctor Evans has told me you’re a rather special sissy and I have to treat you carefully.”

I wondered why she referred to me as ‘a rather special sissy’ and sighed wistfully as the butt plug fell silent and calm inside me. It had been such a delightful sensation and already I missed it.

We started to chat and I learned that my controller was a rather kind girl who found little pleasure in tormenting her serving sissy. Her name was Peggy and she was a well liked by all the pupils. It was nice to have such a kind girl in charge of my butt plug and I was to be eternally thankful in later years at the school. Nevertheless, even Peggy was keen to partake in the initiation rites. The first day back was always a time of merriment and amusement at the expense of the serving sissies.
For we sissies serving the food that first morning, it was a strangely frightening yet exciting experience as malicious senior girls tested out their control of their sissies and caused them to degenerate into simpering, gasping, nervous wrecks as the butt plugs sent paroxysms of delight vibrating through their sissified prostate glands to cause them to have sissygasms even as they tried to serve the food. The chaos persisted for nearly half an hour as sissy after sissy finally capitulated to the demands of their butt plugs and eventually slumped to the floor gasping and whimpering hysterically with nervous exhaustion.

Eventually, amid much hilarity and chaos Mistress Janet brought the hall to order. We poor sissies had spilled food all over the hall in our desperate attempts to serve at the tables whilst our sissified bodies responded to the licentious agitations in our butts. It was almost impossible to resist this stimulation of our prostate glands, for the drugs we were given had modified our prostate glands into irresistible trigger buttons. No sissy could resist for long any sensations in her prostate. Indeed, if their future mistresses wished it, a young sissy could be treated with special drugs whilst still attending the school and then they would quickly become totally addicted to any sort of invasion of their sissy holes. For the rest of their sissified lives they would always seek to be penetrated up their butt holes and have their prostate glands stimulated by some means or another. Sometimes even to the exclusion of all other forms of stimulation. Such sissies of course were eternally destined to serve as little more than pleasure dolls for any properly endowed males or dominatrix females. However it was not a totally catastrophic existence for as long as such sissies had active libidos, they would always strive to be pleasured by penetration of their butts even though they were members of the sissy herd and would also enjoy partner-panty, sissy sex.

I however was not destined for such a life but I did have my prostate sissified and I would not be uncomfortable with anal penetration even though I would always prefer sissy clit stimulation. If Janice decided she might want to take the male part and penetrate me I would always be responsive and happy. As we sissies now lay gasping and groaning with satiated exhaustion on the floor Mistress Janet took charge again.

“Now, now, ladies!” Challenged Mistress Janet, as she rapped her gavel hard upon the block. “That’s quite enough for one morning. I’m quite sure every one of you knows which sissy you control by now. Now kindly behave like well brought up young ladies. The mark of a good mistress is to control her sissy without recourse to excess! The serving sissies can clean up the mess after we have breakfasted.”

Reluctantly the senior girls put aside their zappers and the school settled down to breakfast as we sissies finally found relief and completed our waitressing duties. Finally after breakfast, we sissies were required to go down on our knees and scrub the floor. Even then there was little respite for us sissies. The senior girls had each slotted our butt plug controllers into the central control board and the supervising mistress could now choose to excite any sissy she wanted. As we beavered away earnestly scrubbing the floor the mistress set the control board onto a rotating control cycle so that each sissy in turn received an unexpected buzz up the bum as she struggled to concentrate on her cleaning duties. For each of us sissies it felt as if we were being taken ‘doggy fashion’ as our butt plug suddenly went off in our butts as we kneeled down and tried to concentrate on cleaning.
Fortunately the mistress was much more circumspect about such games and she sent just enough action into the butt plug to tease and titillate each sissy in turn.

Nevertheless by the end of the cleaning session each sissy had got the message, namely - ‘concentrate on your sissy duties or suffer the consequences’ -.

Eventually the dining hall was cleaned to the mistress’s satisfaction and we were despatched to join the girls. I eagerly joined up again with Janice in the middle school common room and she questioned me about it as we prepared for classes.

“Is it up your butt now?” She giggled.

I nodded self consciously and she smiled as she reached her hand around my shoulder and gently stroked my nipple through the soft bra cup. As I twitched salaciously she asked.

“Who’s got your butt plug controller?”

“It’s plugged into the main control panel in the annex to the dining hall. They are all locked in there but the mistresses have remote connections so that they can operate any butt plug from anywhere in the school. If a sissy is naughty, the mistress only has to dial up the sissy’s connection and punish her.”

“Punish her!” Giggled Janice disbelievingly. “I thought it was a nice sensation.”

“It is nice;” I confessed, “- in small doses- but if it goes on too long, it’s frightening. A sissy just can’t resist you see.”

Janice smiled enigmatically and I shivered nervously. I knew she was already destined to be my mistress and thus control my butt plug.

‘Would I always be that much in thrall to her’, I wondered. ‘The idea seemed delicious yet frightening at the same time. Oh gosh, life for a sissy could be so confusing!’

I felt a strange thrill of pleasure-fear flutter through my soft rounded tummy then I squirmed sensuously inside my tight corset. Janice smiled as she noticed my reaction.

“Don’t worry darling. I won’t be too cruel.”

Her remark did little reassure me and we minced down the corridor together into our English class.

We had a new English mistress called Mistress Jackson for that class and she had a reputation for strictness. Woe betide any sissy or indeed a real girl who faltered or failed to achieve at least a ‘C’ grade. Fortunately the bimboised sissies were rostered to another class.

All the pupils called her ‘Stonewall Jackson’, because she was reputed to have a heart of stone and no excuse would work if any pupil, whether sissy or girl, failed to complete the work. She meted out punishments with a cold implacable certainty without fear or favour to any. The only thing that could be said in her favour was that she had no favourites. Girl or sissy, it mattered not to Mistress Jackson. If you failed to get a ‘C’ grade, you copped a punishment.

That very first lesson a sissy called Veronica, whose parents were reputed to be powerful figures on the school governing council, fell foul of Mistress Jackson whilst reading a particularly lurid passage from what was tantamount to a pornographic novel. She stalled and tittered at a particularly lurid passage and Mistress Jackson pounced.

Firstly, Mistress Jackson demanded to know what was so funny and when Veronica failed to give a satisfactory explanation Mistress Jackson opened her desk and studied the class register. Then she tapped a number into her ‘controller’ and the next moment, Veronica was gasping and mewling licentiously on the floor. Her butt plug had been activated and Veronica, whose sissified prostate gland had a level one sensitivity, was reduced to a humping, writhing, wanton slut right there on the classroom floor. She was left squirming and writhing in the throes of a prolonged and powerful sissygasm desperately struggling to suppress her tormented squeals of ecstasy while the rest of the class struggled to concentrate on the lesson.

It was a salutary lesson for all of us and we left the class a very subdued, thoughtful group. Poor veronica had to be almost carried to her next class after Mistress Jackson had switched off Veronica’s butt plug at the end of the lesson.
Throughout the next maths lesson, poor Veronica’s sissy clitty continued to leach sissy juice into the crotch of her panties and she spent a very uncomfortable morning before she could return to the dormitory during the lunch break and have her sticky panties changed. This invariably required the assistance of a partner to help her loosen the stays and bows of her corset and the message was once again reinforced. A sissy was always in thrall to a friend, partner or mistress when it came to undressing for her personal needs.

In the evening during prep she still hadn’t properly recovered properly, and we other sissies all gathered around sympathetically as she bewailed her tormented ordeal.

Later that evening we were herded into Doctor Evan’s clinic and administered our first lactation pill. These were huge things that almost resembled golf balls but each one of us was forced to swallow it whole. The process would continue throughout the whole year as we were irreversibly converted to virtual cattle in terms of milk production. Once the course of medication was finished we were forever destined to be virtual milk cows until we reached the female equivalent of the menopause.
That night Janice and I hugged each other tight and were grateful that it was neither of us that had been punished. We still hadn’t learned how girls were punished and Janice and I whispered long into the evening as we wondered what happened to girls.
A few days later we were to find out. A very bossy and domineering girl called Belinda fell foul of Mistress Jackson and she was sent to see Doctor Evans.

Belinda had always been a bit of a rebel as well as being a bossy girl. She was missing from all the classes for several days and when she returned she was still unsure of what had been done to her.

“I was unconscious for all the time.” She reported. “I don’t know what they’ve done to me but I’m sure it’s something to do with my clitty. Doctor Evans warned me not to fall foul of the mistresses.”

What ever had been done to her seemed at first to have no effect. Belinda soon fell back into her domineering bullying ways and one evening she was caught beating a first-year sissy. This was strict no-no. Dominion over junior pupils was strictly the prerogative of the mistresses and senior girls. Belinda had overstepped the mark and was to be punished in front of the whole school during the next morning’s assembly.

Once the whole school had been assembled, Belinda was presented on the stage and made to face the whole assembly. She was wearing a white outfit but it was obvious that she was tightly corseted. She was also wearing a tight fitting, frilly, full length Edwardian ‘hobble dress’ and she looked very unsure of her balance. Mistress ‘Stonewall’ Jackson then read out the details of the previous offence but Belinda seemed unperturbed at that point until Mistress Janet then produced a zapper from the dais and displayed it to the whole school before addressing us all.

“Now ladies and sissies,” she began, “be quite assured that wayward young ladies have also to be trained and corrected when they cross the bounds of fair play and decency.

Ladies who take it upon themselves to step outside the bounds of discipline set by the school will be punished severely. This academy has set rules to be followed and those rules are by and large fairly kind and generous towards young ladies. The main function of the academy is to provide a high standard of education for any that deserve it whilst training all its pupils to accept the choices that have been made for them by their parents or their carers or indeed, even themselves. This school rarely exceeds those wishes or indeed the wishes of any authorities who have sent offenders here to be corrected.

Occasionally however, a female pupil steps way outside the generous bounds of the school code and that young lady must be brought to book. Belinda has proven to be such a pupil. She seems to persistently refuse to accept that discipline is strictly the prerogative of the senior girls who are de-facto prefects and the mistresses.

Miss Belinda has been caught several times bullying the little first year sissies and everybody knows that by the end of their first year such sissies are totally unable to defend themselves by putting up any physical or mental resistance to a girl. Because such little sissies are so vulnerable, it is important for them to have the protection of the older girls whose wisdom and tolerance is geared to help the little sissies grow into sweet, obedient, submissive lifetime companions and servants of their mistresses. It will not do for a sissy to think that she is at the beck and call of every miscreant, irresponsible woman. Sissies who graduate from this academy are weak, delicate, dependant little creatures that will always need the support and guidance of a good mistress. It will not do for such a sissy to be terrified by excessive force and violence during her most vulnerable, impressionable years. Firmness and controlled force within responsible parameters is the only way to go with young sissies.

Now Miss Belinda has demonstrated that she cannot operate within these tried and tested boundaries so she must be shown that it will not do for a trainee mistress to exceed her authority. Miss Belinda will now be punished in a very special way to bring her back into the fold.”

With these words, Mistress Janet switched on the zapper within full view of the whole school and poor Belinda let out a squeal of surprise.

“Oo-ooh! Ooh-ooh-oooh-oh. Stoppit! I, - I, -! Oh my cli, - my clitty! It, - it’s tingling! Oh! Ooooh! What are you doing? My clitty!!! Oh! Ooooh! Aaah!”

With a squeal of demented pleasure, Belinda tried to bend down to reach her tormented secret place but of course her stiff corset and hobble skirt prevented any hope of her ever reaching that most vital of locations in every woman. As she struggled to address the uninvited invasion of her senses she lost her balance on the stage and fell over. Unable to get up unaided, she continued to writhe like a skewered caterpillar. On the floor she continued squealing and squirming in total abandonment as whatever delightful torment the zapper was causing quickly brought Belinda to a frenzied orgasm. Finally she let out a wail of despair and her eyes glazed over as her body convulsed uncontrollably. Belinda’s fists beat a feeble tattoo on the stage floor as Mistress Janet finally made an elaborate display of switching the zapper off. Belinda’s convulsions subsided and she let out a despairing moan as her body finally found relief.

Mistress Janet looked down with contempt at the dishevelled heap of lace and frills before placing the zapper on the top of the dais and turning to the school.

“If you are wondering what has happened then I will tell you all.

Miss Belinda has had a special device surgically inserted into her clitoris. If she ever transgresses any school rules from this day forward until she leaves the school she will be punished if caught. Furthermore, if any four sissies corroborate any charges laid against her she will be thus punished unless she can bring a like number of sissies to speak for her. The zapper remains strictly within the control of the mistresses. It is hoped that Miss Belinda will eventually learn to control her cruel urges. That is all. School dismissed.”

With a flourish, Mistress Janet zapped Belinda one last time and the girl convulsed fearfully as she let out another demented squeal.

“No! Noo-ooh. Please!”

A low fearful murmur spread around the assembly. The lesson had been a salutary one and we sissies minced out in silent respectful lines as we made our way to our classes. Belinda was helped to her feet by two senior girls and led away to Mistress Janet’s office. Forever after that day, Belinda was a perfect model of a sweet, affectionate, caring girl who could almost have been mistaken for a sissy. Indeed, because of her vulnerable condition she soon developed an affinity with her sissy contemporaries and it was very rare to see her separated from the sissies except when forced to accept her role as a trainee mistress. Nevertheless, Belinda remained a simpering squealing gushing little girl who found it hard to give commands or take control of a sissy. We sissies often wondered what sort of sissy would ever manage to take up in a successful relationship of mistress and sissy with such a simpering, giggling and obviously indecisive mistress. Still it was not a question that would interest me. I was already destined to become Janice’s sissy companion.

This chapter goes into detail about joining the sissy herd and the consequences of sissified lactation.

This was me, (in the basque and suspenders.) at the Sparkle weekend in Manchester.

I had a rotten early life, ( I couldn't call it a childhood.) so I'm making up for it by growing old disgracefully, (very disgracefully.)
In this picture the cheeky minx 'tested' my boobs which are all mine. Next story next picture. I'll be going to the Sparkle weekend every year until I drop or the wheels fall off my wheel-chair.
Brilliant!!!

17 Sissy Farm

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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,

Chapter 17.

Within a week of starting the lactation medications all we sissies in the second year began to feel our breasts starting to become sensitive.

Then to our surprise and delight, the second Wednesday morning of the term we all simultaneously awoke to find our breasts feeling heavy and swollen. I was lying in a loose embrace with Janice when I sensed a slow dull ache invading my breasts. I groaned slightly and shifted to ease my breasts when I felt a distinct tingle in my nipples and I squeaked as the sensation brought me to full consciousness.

“Ah!” I gasped as I gently hefted my tender breasts inside their size‘d’ cups.

“What’s up?” Murmured a sleepy Janice, who then felt her own awakenings.

“Oh! Ooow-ooh!” She suddenly squeaked, as she mirrored my condition.

“It’s my breasts. I think I need to be milked.”

“Yes! So do I, I think.” Added Janice as she now also cupped her sensitive orbs.

We both sat up and fondled our aching breasts as our fingers strayed curiously to the swollen stiff nipples.

“Oooh! Mine are sensitive! Giggled Janice.

“So are mine. I’ll have to go. It feels a bit sore.”

We stepped out of bed and gasped as our mincing steps to the bathroom caused our swollen breasts to bounce sensitively. We collected our new nursing corsets and crossed the landing where we met the rest of our dormitory wing gathered in the showers as they feverishly waited while Victoria unfastened their corsets and belts. Once free of all encumbrances, each sissy plunged eagerly into the shower as one by one we all realised that the warm jets gave our aching breasts relief. Soon all we sissies and Janice were moaning contentedly in the showers like a herd of cattle waiting at the farm gate to be milked. Then Victoria joined us for a quick shower before ushering us out and getting us ready for our first visit to the dairy.

“Right you little darlings dry yourselves down and put on the special dairy corsets that you were issued with when you started this year. They are the ones with the special nursing cups and front fasteners. “

We had seen our older sissy colleagues already wearing these special dairy corsets so we knew how to put them on. Janice and I giggled self-consciously as we dressed each other and cupped our swollen breasts in the soft silk cups. The new corsets were a strange combination of cruel constriction around the waist and tummy whilst the nursing cups were deliciously soft and silky. They felt quite delightful as the beautiful material caressed our sensitive nipples. We could not resist caressing our sensitive nipples through the silky cups and we gasped salaciously as the silky material transmitted delightful tingles of pleasure from our nipples down our `milk-lines’ to our clitties. Both of us sagged with lust as we savoured the overwhelming sensations of pure pleasure rippling down our newly activated milk lines.

“Gosh!” Gulped Janice evocatively. “Now I know what they mean by a cow ‘letting down milk’ when the calf sucks her udder.

I croaked agreement but failed to form any words. My sensations of animal lust had reduced me to an animal state and it was several; seconds before I recovered any human composure.

When we had recovered our composure we stared at each other bashfully for we had obviously lost all inhibitions as our primordial mammalian needs had overtaken our higher sensibilities. For one fearful moment we had both become dumb dairy beasts. Finally we managed to control our urges and we were dressed by six thirty. By now our tits were starting to become uncomfortable. Janice and I glanced nervously at each other as we added the finishing touches to our appearances and gently hefted our aching breasts inside the new silky bra cups.

“Mine are beginning to ache.” I whimpered.

“So are mine.” Replied Janice. “Come on, we’d best get down to the dairy block.” She added.

We stepped out onto the landing then minced down to the quadrangle as fast as our new nursing corsets would allow. We both noted that the corset hems were narrower than our previous corsets and we had to sway our hips more than before to accommodate the steps of the stairs. Janice turned to me as we as we negotiated our way downstairs.
“Are these corsets tighter than the old ones?” She wondered.

“I think so,” I replied, “The cups are bigger and more comfortable, the waists are the same but the hems are definitely narrower.
We had to sway our hips alarmingly and this exaggerated our mincing gait until we joined the milling throng of second year sissies who were all gathered at the quadrangle and feverishly massaging their breasts as the need to be milked became progressively more painful and urgent.

The moment we arrived at the foot of the stairs, Delilah and Nancy joined us as they nervously massaged their aching breasts.

“Are your breasts sore?” Asked Delilah.

“Yes. It’s getting quite painful.” I replied as Janice nodded agreement.

Several other sissies within earshot nodded as we all tried to ease the aching by gently massaging our breasts. There was now a general air of agitation as we waited for Victoria to arrive and lead us to the dairy block. Victoria did not appear until six forty five and by then several of us sissies were whimpering needfully.

“Are you all ready darlings?” Called out Victoria knowingly.

A general chorus of urgent yesses answered her inquiry so she led us off in a crocodile of pairs between the hockey pitches to the dairy block. As we stepped outside the dormitory quadrangle we saw the other crocodiles of sissy herders converging towards the large dairy building.

At first we wanted to rush to get there first but Victoria was a stickler for discipline and she ordered us to slow down as senior sissies had priority, particularly the super milkers like, Julia.

Slow down darlings!” Ordered Victoria. “You won’t be milked any quicker, the dairy block doesn’t open until seven and then the senior milkers have priority. As the most junior additions to the herd you’ll have to wait your turn to be attended to.”

There was a low groan of discontent from our crocodile but Victoria ignored it. She was more than used to the stressful gathering of sissies every morning and evening. Finally we arrived at the dairy block and found ourselves looking up with urgent anticipation at the clock above the dairy block. As the aching in our breasts grew more painful we collectively wished the minute hand to hurry up. By now there was a low cacophony of sighs and moans as sissies from every year began to get agitated. Indeed some were already undoing their nursing cups as their needs overtook them. The more knowledgeable ones had anticipated this and they gently dabbed their leaking nipples as the milk started to spurt. One supermilker had even brought two small bottles and she was holding them to her gorgeous ripe breasts as her milk spurted into the bottles. The senior girl in charge of that class watched benignly then spoke to all of us sissies.

“If any of you have the same problems as Sandie here, you should take a leaf from her book and bring some emergency bottles.”

I wanted to ask why the dairy block didn’t open sooner but was afraid to in case I drew some sort of unwanted attention to myself. Instead I kept quiet and prayed that my aching breasts would not let me down. Eventually the sombre tones of the dairy clock measured out seven o’clock and the doors of the dairy block swung open. The super-milkers immediately advanced first, and then each class entered in strict seniority until we juniors entered last. As the other sissies went straight to their allotted stalls we were made to gather until Victoria could allot us our stalls. She explained the drill.

“Each pair will be allotted a stall and they will keep to that stall for the duration of the academic year. Each pair will be responsible for keeping their stall clean and also the milking equipment. Once you have finished being milked, each pair will have to clean up any spillages and then clean out the equipment. Now I know you’ve all paired up so the school likes to keep it’s dairy heard happy and you will of course each remain with your chosen companion unless their is some medical reason why you cannot remain partners. That very rarely happens. Now as I read out your pairs, I will give you a stall number. Each pair can go to the stall and wait for the dairy maid to attend. The dairy maids are all second year girls and so they will be learning too. Be patient. They are just as nervous and anxious but excited as you are.”

With these words, Victoria started to read out the paired names and we minced off to our stalls to await our first milking. Nancy and Delilah were in the stall next to Janice and me and we exchanged nervous smiles as we waited for our dairy maids to appear with the milking teats. Eventually two nervous girls appeared with uncertainty written all over their faces. Jenifer identified herself to Janice and me whilst Andrea joined Nancy and Delilah.

Jenifer smiled wanly then nervously connected the tubes of the vacuum teats to the vacuum line. Then she motioned her head self consciously towards our breasts and held out the suction cups as we garnished her meaning. We unfastened our corset cups and bared our ripe breasts. With trembling fingers Jenifer attached the cups to our nipples. The vacuum immediately drew our sensitive nipples into the teats cups and Janice and I gasped with delight as the first spurts of milk erupted from our nipples. Happy with her immediate success, Jenifer smiled with evident satisfaction as my and Janice’s milk started to fill the large transparent bottle. Jenifer instructed us to then lie facing each other on the large cushioned Bench

“D’you feel OK.” She asked.

“Mmm-mmm.” I replied as Janice also nodded. “Never felt better.”

Our beatific smiles obviously pleased Jenifer and she sat back with evident satisfaction as she watched our milk spurting rhythmically from our nipples.

“Does it feel nice?” She asked after a few minutes.

“Mmmm! Does it ever!” Sighed Janice as we lay facing each other and started to squirm softly.

Jenifer watched transfixed as our reactions started to betray our arousal and she giggled with fascination.
Janice and I started to get really horny but to our dismay, our milk started to dry up.

“Oh no!” I gasped. “I’m finished!”

Janice let out a snort of discontent then to her dismay she was also drying up. We looked up then to find the whole class of second year sissies expressing dismay as their breasts were being exhausted of milk.

“Gosh that wasn’t very long.” I cried.

“I suppose it’s because were just starting.” Observed Janice a little testily.

“Well that’s it I’m afraid. You’ve produce just over a litre between you.” Observed Jenifer.” “One thousand and twenty three cubic centimetres to be exact.”

“Crikey! How long before we hit the two litre stage?” Wondered Janice aloud.

“They say it takes a year or two.” Observed Jenifer. “Doctor Evans told us girls that younger sissies mustn’t produce too much too quickly or the calcium demands affects their bones and their growth. Here are your calcium supplements. I was told to give them to you if you jointly passed one litre. If you didn’t produce a litre, then I had to tell Doctor Evans. She monitors the sissy herd quite closely.”

“I suppose the same goes for me then.” Added Janice.

“It must,” replied Jenifer, “do you like being a milker?”

Janice nodded and gently wiped her deliciously pink nipples. I followed suite and we savoured the pleasures as we swapped duties and gently wiped each other’s nipples. Jennifer watched and smiled.

“It must be really nice to already be so close as sissy and mistress. Stonewall Jackson says you are going to be mistress and sissy when you grow up. Is that true?”

Janice nodded and smiled dreamily as her nipples stiffened erotically and she squirmed responsively.

“We’re something of a pair of guinea-pigs.” Observed Janice. “That’s why we share a private study.”

“Your nipples are nice and pink. Will they stay like that or go brown?” Asked Jenifer as she disconnected the equipment.

“Doctor Evans says it’s one of the few advantages of joining the sissy herd. My nipples will always stay pink and perky just like a sissy’s. It’s the lactation medicine that keeps them nice and pink and perky. Even if I have a baby later on. I can suckle my own baby if I want, but my nipples will never go brown and ugly. Nor will my breasts grow saggy.”
Jenifer gave a wistful smile.

“I wish I could join the sissy herd but my mummy won’t let me.”

Sadly, she gathered up the bottle and took it to the pasteurising room whilst we cupped our washed breasts back into our new dairy corsets and set about cleaning the equipment. Fortunately Jenifer had been super efficient for her part. There had been no mistakes and no milk spillages so there wasn’t much to do in the stall except tidy the sheets on the communal couch were we had lain together facing each other.

By seven thirty the whole class of second-year sissies were finished with milking and making their way back to the dormitory. Once in the quadrangle of the dormitory block, Victoria assembled us and gave us a questionnaire.

“Does anybody have any questions?” She asked.

A few sissies asked when they would get to the two litre barrier and allowed to share sissygasms so Victoria repeated what Jennifer had already told us.

“Producing too much milk would make too much demand on your sweet, little, growing bodies. You will need the calcium to grow your bones properly and develop the proper sissy shape with wide rounded hips and small waists. So I’m afraid it’s no sissygasms by milking until at least the fourth year.” She continued. “By then you’ll be fifteen and sixteen and you’ll have reached your full growth potential.”

There was a low sigh of discontent but we sissies had to accept the rules. As it was, we were already smaller than the girls and would continue to be so right up to adulthood. Thanks to our regimen of sex and growth hormones, we, as Mistress Janet’s sissies, would never be able to physically overpower a mistress. Sissies were far too delicate and effeminate to resort to violence. An ordinary girl would always be stronger and slightly larger. No matter what sort of nature an adult sissy had, she would always have to obey her mistress. Besides the very real physical constraints that prevented any useful resistance, the hormones also made us sissies submissive and compliant.

As to our relationships with real boys, well in truth we rarely saw any at the school. However, outside, during the holidays, we went in morbid fear of boys. To us sissies, real boys already appeared as huge powerful brutes who could snap our pretty corseted bodies like a dry twig. In adult life, we would always feel that little bit safer with our mistresses present in public places. Mistresses had better and more feminine wiles to control the huge male brutes. To our delicate, sissyish, perceptions and natures, boys seemed to lumber about like predatory beasts. They seemed to walk from the shoulders instead of swaying gracefully at the hips.

These lessons were learned early on. During our early teen years we learned very quickly that it was much better and safer to ‘pass’ as a girl than be ‘read’ as a sissy. Most boys seemed to take a cruel pleasure in tormenting sissies or worse, physically injuring them. In later years we sissies of Mistress Janet’s academy would be grateful for the early hormone treatments. In later years we were to learn from other sissies who had not had the benefits of Mistress Janet’s academy.
Ordinary sissies who had been sissified in adulthood always avoided boys and men unless introduced to them by their mistresses. They were too easily read and therefore too vulnerable. I was to be eternally glad that I had been sissified in my early life.
By the end of my second year at Mistress Janet’s Academy, I was well and truly sissified. My breasts had grown to double D and on my smallish, slender sissy frame, these looked spectacular. I was enormously proud of them.

On the last morning of my third year, I was admiring my naked tits in the long mirror as Janice helped me fit my new double D cup nursing corset that Aunty Bev had brought along after the school nurse had written to advise her of my development. Janice smiled over my shoulder and studied me in the mirror. Her breasts were a respectable D cup and coupled with her blossoming female body she also looked spectacular. She smiled impishly as she fingered my stiff sensitive nipples.

“Just think you’ll never be able to see your shoes again.”

I gasped responsively then giggled.”

“If they grow any more I’ll have to be very careful not to bend over too far. I’ll topple forward! As it is, my back and shoulders ache if I stand too long without my corset. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live without it.”

“Oh you’ll be OK once you’ve stopped growing. Your body will be stronger once your bones are set.”

“Does your back ache?” I asked Janice.

“Yes a bit, because I’m a bit taller than you, but my breasts aren’t so big.”

“D’you wish they were?” I pressed her.

“Not really,” she grinned. “A ‘D’ cup is big enough for any girl.”

“D’you think mine are too big?” I continued.

“Oh gosh no! You’re a sissy. Mistress Janet’s sissies all have nice big breasts. It’s the dairy thing.”

“Mmmm.” I replied, not entirely convinced.

Janice sensed my uncertainty and stepped around me to gently plant a delicate kiss on each stiff pink nipple. Then she looked into my eyes.

“Secretly the girls are all a bit envious of we dairy herders. They know that if they have babies, their boobs will begin to sag and grow veins and have ugly brown nipples. Our tits will always be firm and erect with these delightfully sensitive pink nipples.”

“So why don’t the real girls take the same hormones as you?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Replied Janice. “Doctor Evan’s advises them not to. It does something to the milk apparently.”

“Aren’t you worried about your milk then?”

“I don’t mind.”

“So what do these hormones do?” I pressed.

Obviously Janice had had extra instruction about the effects of the hormones. She made me sit then took the hairbrush from our vanity table and gently brushed my hair as she explained.

“Sissy milk affects baby boys. Apparently the brain is still forming during the first few months after birth and sissy milk affects the male brain. It modifies the sexuality function in the brain by changing the metabolism inside the little lobe beneath the cortex. Dutch doctors discovered a tiny lobe just beneath the cerebral cortex that reflected a person’s sexuality. Apparently transvestites have a different shaped lobe from ordinary males and gays have a different shape again. Doctor Evans was involved in some further research and discovered some hormone compounds that affect the new born male child. It’s much the same as a baby's social relationship developing by close tactile contact with their mothers during the early weeks of life. If a baby does not get proper nurturing and mothering at an early age then they can grow up into dysfunctional desensitised individuals who cannot relate to other human beings properly.

The Old Romanian regime of Chouchesque discovered this and used it to produce a generation of secret police who would happily torture men and women without batting an eyelid or suffering their own psychological breakdowns. They were completely inert to any compassionate responses and functioned like machines.

As babies they were removed from their parents and brought up in cold inhumane asylums. They turned out to be the perfect beasts to reinforce Chouchesque’s brutal oppression.

Well Doctor Evans studied this information and derived a hormonal technique to re-shape young baby’s brain and sexuality.
Then she used some clever gene manipulation and hormonal splicing and there you have it. Those horse-pills that Doctor Evans gives to the sissies contain these hormonal and genetic derivatives. By the time you sissies come into milk, your genetic makeup has been permanently changed. Your milk turns baby boys into future sissies. If a boy baby is suckled by a sissy or fed on sissy milk, by the time he is six months old, he has been changed completely into a little sissy inside his pretty little head. It later manifests itself sometime between ten and eighteen.

Doctor Evans has been very clever you see. The little boys grow up confused and uncertain until they finally realise they are sissies and then they want to look like girls and pass for girls.”

“But what about the boys who are not destined to be sissies?” I pressed nervously. “The reluctant ones, the ones sent to be punished by the courts? How are they changed?”

“She’s developed other pills that change the sexuality of the brain by similar chemistry. After a year on the medication any boy becomes a sissy and there’s no turning back. Even a full grown man will be sissified.”
I shuddered nervously at this astounding revelation. My only reassurance was that I was glad I had been a natural voluntary sissy.

Finally, Janice had finished my hair and we minced down to the common room ready to gather for breakfast. I noticed that I was quite hungry and mentioned it to Nancy and Delilah.

“So are we,” declared Delilah, “it must be because they took all that nourishment from us during milking. I’m famished!”

Other sissies gathered around us and declared their hunger as did Janice. Because the real girls did not feel hungry we realised that it must be the milking. Milking obviously made heavier demands on our metabolisms and we realised that the calcium supplement pills were only a small part of the bodily compensations needed to maintain milk production. A larger intake of food was also necessary. We were glad to tuck into the food after Mistress Janet had offered up prayers. The dining hall rang to the sound of busy cutlery but little chattering amongst us younger sissies. We were too busy replacing lost calories.
After breakfast we dispersed to our classes and I didn’t see Janice until English lessons with Miss Jackson (Stonewall Jackson) at eleven o’clock.

At the evening session of milking we gathered expectantly and quickly fell into the school routine. It was a routine that we followed throughout the rest of our time at Mistress Janet’s Academy.

In this chapter, Michelle learns more about sissification of bad boys to good girls(sissies,) and of the first budding feelings of romance.

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18 Sissy Farm

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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,

Chapter 18.

During our second year, Janice and I got to study exactly how a reluctant `naughty sissy’ was sissified.
David, the bad Gypsy Boy who had assaulted me in the pool on our estate was taken from us on the first day of term and we did not meet him again for the whole of that semester. Occasionally, we saw the group being `exercised’ out on the playing fields as they tried pitifully to play field hockey whilst severely restrained by their corsets. They had to play against a team of senior girls who were equipped in proper hockey skirts and sports shirts whilst free to dash about with little restraint except for a `gymnastic merry widow’ to constrain their slender waists.

The recalcitrant sissies were soon whimpering and crying with despair and eventually, every one of them had collapsed in a fit of vapours as their exertions overtook their corseted bodies. Eventually each naughty sissy was laid out at the edge of the field gasping and wheezing in a futile attempt to recover their breath. It was a pointless exercise and the senior girls had to help them to their feet and assist the pathetic little creatures back to their secure dormitory block. After a few weeks of this activity being repeated every Monday afternoon, I asked Victoria about the naughty block.

“Believe me Michelle; you don’t want to end up in there. Their treatments and medications make your sissification look positively benign. Even their corsets are much more severe than yours and you remember what those first ones felt like, don’t you?”

I nodded and shuddered at the memories. My first corsets had been excruciating with the fourteen inch waists when I was only a pre-teenager but apparently, these older boys were often squeezed down to twelve inches in some sever cases and it must have been agonising. This, coupled with the powerful drugs that Doctor Evans administered was guaranteed to reduce a wild obnoxious boy to a sweet simpering, obedient sissy in one academic year. As an older sissy I now sported a deliciously slender sixteen inch waist and Janice often admired it as we cuddled together in the evenings.

Towards the third term of that school year, David, (now named Davinia,) was invited to join the year below me. Invited was a polite word because he had absolutely no choice. However he was now a she and a delightfully sweet little sissy who was ever so eager to please.

On the last day of term, she joined us by our cars and struggled feebly to manhandle her suitcase that she had easily carried into the academy on his very first day. One academic year of sissification at Mistress Janet’s, certainly changed a boy. Davinia was pathetically feeble and stood helplessly at the bottom of her dormitory steps looking for assistance to lift her case. Eventually Victoria had to help her with her suitcase and Davinia’s sissification could not have been made more apparent to her. A tiny tear of despair escaped from Davinia’s eye as she struggled feebly to hold up her end of the case as Victoria easily towed her towards the car. At the Car my auntie Beverly saw Davinia’s tears and she smiled benignly as she picked her up and rocked her in her arms. Davinia had also lost weight as her once boyish body had become sissified and enfeebled. Aunty Beverly easily hefted the twelve year old sissy into her arms and smiled into her tearful eyes.

“Don’t cry petal. Being a sissy is much nicer than being a nasty rough boy. Just think you’ll never have to fight and get hurt, you’ll always be able to enjoy pretty clothes and you’ll never have to worry about who will look after you.”

“I can’t lift my case though,” sobbed Davinia as her emotions overtook her.

“Well don’t worry about that darling,” replied Auntie Beverly soothingly. “Sissies can’t be expected to move big heavy objects. We’ll get you some smaller trolley cases for next year. Would you like that?”

Davinia nodded and pressed her soft velvety lips to Auntie Beverly’s before being returned to the floor. Auntie Beverly looked down at the delightful little sissy and smiled as she turned to Victoria.

“Well, it’s certainly worked for her hasn’t it? I’d never have believed it.”

Victoria nodded and smiled as she helped Janice, Jemima and I load the minibus before we all took our places demurely and courteously as Mistress Janet’s academy had taught us. Davinia happily took her place between Jemima and me as we prepared for the drive home to the estate. I was enchanted with the changes in Davinia. She giggled and cooed as we entertained her with cat’s cradle and other sissy car games while the girls chatted about more mature issues up front.

Eventually we arrived home at the estate where Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie had prepared the house for our homecoming. After getting ourselves installed, Auntie Beverly took Davinia to the gypsy’s summer camp where Davinia’s family were established for the whole summer as they had done from time immemorial. Davinia was introduced to her mother and father before her siblings were re-introduced. Davinia’s father explained to his children. This is what happens to boys who are cruel or nasty to girls. In future when you meet strangers at the pool, just make sure who they are before you are rude to unkind to them. David is now a sissy and her new name is Davinia. You girls will be pleased to know that you now have an extra helper around the camp and she will earn some extra money by helping Miss Beverly at the big house.

The gypsy girls squealed with joy at the feminine addition to their clan because David had always tormented them. However the most relieved gypsy of all was Davinia’s older brother John. He at last would no longer have to worry about his younger brother’s behaviour and the risks that entailed to the gypsies few remaining camp sites. The next time John met Janice at the pool he sighed with pleasure as he described his relief as they swam lazily together during a warm summer’s evening.

“I’m so totally amazed at the way that David’s prick has all but disappeared,” observed John.

“How did you know that?” Giggled Janice. “You’re not supposed to peek at a little sissy’s body now she’s been sissified.” You’ll frighten her.”

“I didn’t,” replied John as he defended his good name, “my sisters told me. They say it’s just a tiny little bud, just like a girl’s thingy. David’s too shy to even come to the pool now.”

“She’s called Davinia now John. You’ll frighten her if you call her David, especially in public. If other boys find out she’s a sissy they might hurt her. Her best defence is to pass as a girl. That’s what most sissies do. She’s more vulnerable than an ordinary girl now.”

“Yes. That’s what my sisters said. David, - I mean Davinia, is ever so shy and nervous. She does everything her sisters tell her without the slightest complaint. It’s quite nice really. She’s made my sister’s lives much easier and pleasanter.”
“Hey-up! Cautioned Janice, here come your sisters now with Michelle.”

John turned and smiled at his sisters as they casually stripped at the side of the pool before slipping on their costumes. He was happy to see that now that the threat from David had disappeared, his sisters, and Janice and I, were much more relaxed about swimming in the pool. John had the decency to turn away for he was not the oversexed monster that his younger brother had nearly become. He did not turn again until invited to do so by Janice. Once they were splashing in the pool together John turned innocently to Janice and remarked.

“You’re little sister’s nice isn’t she?”

A silence fell upon the sisters and John sensed he might have said something out of turn. He looked uncertainly at Janice and asked.

“What?” What have I said?”

Two of John’s younger sisters started to giggle but this just confused the older gypsy boy further.

“What’s wrong? What did I say? I only complimented your younger sister. Where’s the harm in that?”

Janice wagged her head uncertainly for she did not know what was wrong.

Then Simone, the oldest sister took Janice aside and explained out of earshot.

“Davinia told us. Michelle’s also a sissy.”

Janice frowned as she realised. Davinia would have obviously realised that I was a sissy from the circumstances at Mistress Janet’s Academy. Davinia had probably mentioned it in innocence whilst chatting with her sisters. John was about to learn of it for Janice could not keep it secret from him. Janice swam over to me, took me aside and whispered in my ear.

“The sisters know you’re a sissy. Are you happy for John to know?”

I considered it for a few moments and frowned.

“What’s he like towards Davinia, now that Davinia’s been sissified.”

“He doesn’t seem to be upset or offended. In fact he’s secretly relieved that he doesn’t have to keep knocking the old David into line.”

“Is John a sissy hater?” I pressed nervously.

“I’ll ask Simone.”

Janice invited Simone across the pool for a `girl talk’ and John frowned again.

“What’s all the whispering about? What’s going on?”

“You just stay there,” commanded Simone firmly even though John was the oldest gypsy child, “this is girl’s stuff.”

When she reached Janice and me she asked.

“What’s the problem?”

“Does John hate sissies?” I asked in a nervous whisper.”

“Gosh no! Spluttered Simone as she contained her laughter, “John’s more protective of the new Davinia than any of his real sisters. He makes sure that Davinia does her share but he won’t let any of us bully Davinia. I think John’s got a soft spot for his sissified brother. Davinia’s such a sweet submissive little thing. It’s just a delight to have her around the camp. Mummy says she’s a perfect angel around the cooking fire.

The only thing is that she’s too afraid to go into the woods to collect firewood. She’s afraid of meeting a nasty man or something.”

“Well that’s true for all girls but we don’t let it ruin our lives,” declared Janice.

“It’s different for sissies though,” I argued, “I can quite understand why Davinia’s more frightened than her sisters. If a nasty man discovers his victim is not a girl but a sissy, there’s no knowing what he might do. Sissies are very vulnerable to a nasty man’s anger.”

The two girls fell silent then nodded agreement. I was right. Sissies were so feeble and weak they could never put up any sort of proper resistance and once their secret was discovered their lives were truly in danger. Mistress Janet’s sissies were so physically weak; they even had to depend upon their mistresses for protection.

“So is it safe to Tell John then,” asked Janice as I consented to my secret being revealed to the older Gypsy boy.

“Yes. But I think Janice had better tell him,” declared Simone as she checked with me again before she turned to Janice again.

“John likes you. He wouldn’t want to hurt your sissy brother because it would upset you.”

Janice turned one last time to me and I smiled wanly as I finally nodded consent. A few short strokes across the pool brought Janice to John’s side. He looked at her with concern.

“What was all that whispering about?”

“It’s Michelle,” replied Janice, “she’s not my sister, she’s my sissy brother.”

John’s jaw dropped in stunned silence before he recovered his composure.

“What! Michelle’s a sissy; you mean like Davinia?”

“Yes. Just like Davinia, well, - not exactly like Davinia but very simmilar.”

“Oh my gosh. I thought she was a girl, your younger sister. I mean, - she’s just so pretty and she’s got lovely, - you know, they’re the biggest in the pool!”

“That’s enough of that!” Scolded Janice. “If you want my respect, you won’t be making remarks about girl’s tits! Especially our tits!”

“Sorry,” gulped John, “I was just so surprised. But you must agree! Michelle is really pretty. Gosh who’d have thought?”

“Well now you know. Don’t treat her any differently to the rest of us girls and she’ll be a good friend to you. And I mean a friend, not some sort of lackey or slave.”

“Yes, of course” agreed John without hesitation, “can I go and talk to her; privately I mean?”

“Why not, I’m sure she’ll be pleased now that the situation is resolved. But don’t try anything. We’ll all be watching you.”

John splashed across the pool and invited me to join him on the high grassy bank under the willow tree. I sensed there was no licentious interest so I swam to the bank where John reached down and helped me up the grassy knoll. My sissified arms were not strong enough to climb out at that place and my large breasts simply got in the way as I tried to heft myself up the bank. I smiled gratefully as John employed maximum probity as he gently eased me up the bank whilst making sure my ripe bouncy tits did not snag on the exposed roots of the old gnarled willow tree. Once we were sat on the soft grass John spoke hesitantly so I smiled and put him at ease.

“Yes. I’m a sissy, just like Davinia. I hope you’re not angry.”

“Well, - no, - no, I’m not angry, just shocked. I mean you’re so pretty!”

“Well Davinia’s pretty now isn’t she.”

“Yes. But I mean, she’s my bro, - my sister. But you. You’re even prettier than Janice and she’s really pretty.”

I blushed at the compliment then grinned.

“You better hadn’t let Janice hear you say that.”

John blushed and begged me not to tell her. I reached across and pecked him on the cheek then promised never to reveal his declaration. John froze uncertainly; he had no idea how to react to what appeared to be a sissy’s advances. I sat back and grinned.

“Don’t worry. I’m still a boy inside my head. I don’t fancy you. You’re quite safe. Do you fancy my sister Janice?”

John swallowed hesitantly and nodded.

I smiled and teased John by putting him on the spot.

“What? More than me?”

John swallowed again as he sought a way out of my cleverly laid trap.

`Girls were just so clever at laying these sorts of traps,’ John concluded. Then he thought he’d found a way out.
“She’s a girl. I’m like you in that I like girls. I’m a boy inside my head so I like girls not boys. Sorry, it’s no brainer, I fancy Janice more than you now I’ve found out you’re not a girl.”

I smiled but John sensed the sadness in my heart. He reached out and hugged me as he whispered.

“I’m sorry, if you were a girl I would really fancy you, even marry you, but you’re not so I can’t. You could never give me children, Janice could.”

“Gosh. Don’t tell me you want to marry her?” I giggled.

“I could do a lot worse. Janice is a super girl!”

“What! Would you turn her into a gypsy?” I gasped.

“The travelling ways are finished. Look around. Our family are just about the last in these parts and this is the only place were we can find peace. Our lifestyle is finished. It’s a lovely way but people hate us everywhere we go. The council’s always try to make us stay on those awful sites where everything is concrete and stuff. You’re uncle’s woods; these woods are our only last refuge in this area.”

I felt a tear of sympathy for John and his sisters. Their future was so uncertain. I reached over again and gave him one last peck on the cheek before standing up and leaping into the pool. John let out a shout of glee and leapt after me as we splashed across the pool to rejoin the others. The rest of the hot summer afternoon was spent joyously squealing and splashing in the pool until Davinia arrived with a picnic in a basket. The others welcomed her happily and even persuaded her to join them in the pool.

I made a point of making her welcome and soon Davinia lost her inhibitions. As the afternoon finally cooled, we gradually crawled out onto the bank and savoured the delicious spread that Davinia had prepared. I chatted affectionately to Davinia as we gently dabbed each other dry with the large fluffy towels and soon we had become firm friends.

John and Janice sat watching us and they smiled to each other as the younger sisters whispered amongst themselves as all younger girls are want to do. The younger sisters were wondering if John and Janice would become an item and if we sissies might also become `friends’.

In the first instance the younger sisters would be mistaken but in the second they were partially right.

Janice was `mistress material’ and she was too enamoured of me, her sissy brother to ever become sexually attracted to John but if Davinia and I became friends and companions that would benefit everybody. Even as they munched their sandwiches the sisters smiled as they watched Davinia take my comb from my bag and start to draw it tenderly through my long golden tresses.

“You’ll have to shower when you get back. The pond was all churned up and there’s muddy stuff in your hair,” giggled Davinia as she picked some tiny bits of water weed from my hair. “You look like a water nymph that’s just had a session in the pondweed,”

“And so do you then,” I replied as I pinched one of her nipples for her.

“I can wash mine in the stream back at the camp,” replied Davinia.

“Oh no!” I protested. That’s awfully cold. Come back to the big house and you can share my hot shower. “

“Ooh that would be nice. But what about my sisters, they’re all muddy too.”

“They can come, but John will have to shower separately.”

“John won’t need to, his hair’s so short it’ll rinse out with just a splash.”

“Yeah, that’s as maybe, but look at the way he’s fawning over Janice. He’s itching to accompany her home. Washing his hair will be an excuse.”

“You’d better suggest it then,” added Davinia, “it’ll sound a bit suspicious coming from me.”

“I don’t see why, but O.K., then.” I agreed.

Once both our sissy’s hair was combed I took the opportunity. The sisters and Janice had forgotten to bring combs and as their hair was drying out, it was turning stringy and knotted by the detritus from the pool.

“You’ve forgotten your comb,” I said to Janice.

“Yes we have, only a sissy would remember to bring a comb,” replied Janice.

“Well, sissy is as sissy does” I countered with a grin, “your hair is too matted and knotted now. It’s dried off. You’ll have to shampoo it in the shower.”

Janice ran her fingers through her tangled golden hair and agreed with me.

“Hmmm. I suppose you’re right.”

“We could offer the girls a shower as well. I’ve invited Davinia to use mine.”

Janice grinned knowingly. She immediately recognised my ploy.

“Yeah. OK, then. What about big boy here?”

“John can use the shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall. He’ll only need a quickie. His hair’s very short.”

Janice turned to John and smiled invitingly.

“What about it, gypsy boy? D’you want a nice hot shower, or are you going to come over all macho and out-doorsie and refuse a nice hot shower with girly shampoo?”

John jumped at the chance to stay longer with the beautiful Janice and he nodded eagerly. Soon the whole group was strolling back through the sunny glades towards the big house. On the way we paused at the camp to explain to the gypsy children’s parents and soon we were in the big house. Uncle Penny and Auntie Beverly met us in the hall as we tumbled noisily through the wide front doors.

“Well golly gosh,” giggled Uncle Penny as he whisked his foppish handkerchief under his nose, “just what are these scruffy urchins doing in my house?”

“Don’t be silly uncle;” protested Janice, “we’ve come to get showered. The pool was all churned up and muddy by the time we’d finished and our hair is all matted.”

“Well, I suppose if you must. Just hurry up, We’re going down to your parent’s gypsie camp tonight for supper and you’ll be carrying the food.”

“Oh!” I squeaked with surprise. “You didn’t tell us!”

“It’s a surprise! For all you children.” Added Auntie Beverly. “You’d better get washed up. You look like dogs that have been out hunting with all that matted hair.”

“With permission freely given we all scampered up the broad staircase and the gypsy sister’s eyes widened as they stared at the spacious rooms.

“Gosh! It’s like a palace,” gasped John.

“I like all these big pictures,” added Simone. “Are these your ancestors?”

“Well I don’t know,” I replied, “I’ve never really thought about it, Uncle Penny will know all about it. Do you know anything about them Janice?”

Janice shrugged.

“No more than you. You’re right, I suppose Uncle Penny and Auntie Beverly are the ones to ask, it’s their house. They’re brother and sister.”

We came to the end of the corridor and Janice pointed out the bathroom to John.

“You’ll have to shower in there. You can’t share with us girls.”

“I could share with Davinia and Michelle,” protested John, “they may be sissies but under it all they’re still boys.

Janice’s eyes widened as she turned to me.

“What do you think darling? Are you happy to have a big hairy ugly man share your shower?”

“He’s not hairy,” I protested. “You’ve seen him in the pool. He hasn’t grown any body hair yet. He can share with us for now. At least until his hair starts to block the plug hole.”

“Uugh! That’s horrible,” croaked Janice as she wrinkled her nose. “What an awful thought!”

I turned to John and smiled for I was curious to see what a sixteen-year-old boy looked like `down there’.

“Come on then," I invited him, "you can shower with us, but no funny business.”

“Yeah! No funny business,” added Davinia for good measure.”

“OK. I promise; no funny business,” agreed John with a widening smile.

The girls grinned and stepped into Janice’s bedroom and I smiled to myself as I heard them `oohing and aaahing`. Janice’s bedroom must have seemed like a palace. Then I entered my bedroom and invited John and Davinia in. Both boy and sissy fell silent before John grinned.

“Now I see what my sisters were going on about. It’s huge. Where do those doors lead?”

“That’s my bathroom and that’s the anteroom that connects to Janice’s bedroom.”

“What, you mean you can get into each other’s bedrooms?” Gasped John.

I smiled then replied softly.

“We can get into each other’s beds if we want.”

“What, all this space and you still sleep together.”

I was mildly surprised that John wasn’t shocked by my revelation then he explained why.

“My sisters have to share their bed because the vardo is so small, now Davinia sleeps with them but she can’t do anything. I sleep under the Vardo while mum and dad sleep in the second one, the blue and yellow one. Doesn’t your Auntie Beverly object to you’re sleeping together?”

“Well, it’s like Davinia and her sisters, I can’t do much, my cockette can only just separate Janice’s labia it doesn’t go much further. She likes me just to tantalise her clitty with it. Janice is still a virgin.”

John’s eyes widened with happy surprise but I quickly put him wise.

“Janice likes you, but I don’t think she’ll ever take you as a boyfriend.”

“Why, is she, - is she, - a les, - a lesbian?”

“Not that I know of, she likes boys but she likes her boys to be sissies. It’s the way she is. She can’t help it.”

“So if I wanted to marry her, I’d have to become a sissy.”

I gasped with surprise as I was removing my bathing costume. I was so surprised that I turned around to face him and my costume top fell down. His eyes widened as they fell upon my gorgeous ripe globes but he made no further advances. He simply stood there for a moment; half stepping out of his bathers then resumed removing them before returning his gaze to my breasts.

“What! I squealed, are you really saying you’d become a sissy just to get married to Janice?”

“Well, I’d have to keep my cock, not like Davinia. She’s in a right predicament.”

“Where did you learn so much about sissies?” I pressed curiously.

“I told him,” piped up Davinia,” I go to Mistress Janet’s as well you know.”

I sagged with resignation, ` of course! John and Davinia were still brothers, John would have been fascinated by Davinia’s alteration and he would have pumped his sissified brother for every ounce of information. I turned to John and grinned.

“Well you’ve sure surprised me. Who would have thought that a boy as handsome and strong as you would want become a sissy just to get into Janice’s panties?”

John spoke softly as he emphasised his infatuation with Janice.

“She’s pretty Michelle; your sister Janice is a real stunner, you’d be surprised what a man would do for so rare a beauty.”

“Yeah, but that’s a huge sacrifice. What would your mum and dad say?”

“They know I want to give up the old ways. There’s no pleasure in it anymore. We get harried and bullied everywhere we go. The only reason we don’t get forced onto one of those horrible council sites is because we still live in the vardoes and we look quaint, and picturesque and olde-worlde.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “Uncle Penny and Auntie Bev still love having you on the estate every year and they love the vardoes. That’s why we’re going down to share supper around the fire tonight.

“Is Auntie Jamie coming, she’s really funny.”

“Yes,” I replied, “and don’t laugh, Auntie Jamie stands to inherit an earldom when his father Earl Weston dies. He will own the rest of these woods and the stream all the way down this side of the valley. It’ll pay you to keep Auntie Jamie sweet.”

“But she dresses like a woman. It’s almost impossible to tell she’s a man.”

“Well, it takes all sorts,” I conceded, “just look at me.”

“Yeah, and now me, if I choose to become a sissy,” added John as he opened the bathroom door.

I tensed slightly as I realised I would have to pass very close to John to enter the bathroom but he smiled and promised not to try anything. Thus reassured I smiled my most inviting smile and slipped past him with Davinia following close behind. Soon we were splashing happily in the huge shower cubicle. As he quickly showered down John chuckled.

“Blimey, this shower is huge! You could wash our horses in here.”

“The story goes that one guest tried it once.” I replied with a giggle. “I don’t believe it though.”

“I suppose you could though,” added Davinia, “I mean the stairs are easy enough for a horse to ascend.”

“Yeah well we’re not going to try anything stupid, now do you want me to do your back?” I asked Davinia.

“I wish you’d do mine,” sighed John. I haven’t had my back scrubbed since my mum used to do it in front of the campfire when I was small.”

“OK then, but no funny business.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” swore John as he passed me the shower gel bottle.

As soon as I applied the gel to his shoulders I felt a soft wave of desire ripple though my tummy. John’s back was just beginning to gain definition for a fifteen-year-old boy. It had not yet bulked up and grown hairy like men’s did when they grew older.
`If john kept his slender body like this while growing into a sissy with a nice cock and firm tits, he would have every mistress in Miss Janet’s bidding for him at the auction.’ John had a beautiful boyish body and virtually no body hair. As I gently soaped his back I couldn’t resist pressing up close to his back and squeezing my firm 'D sized’ breasts against his lightly muscled frame. John swayed his back and murmured affectionately.

“Oooh! Those are beautiful tits Michelle; I can feel your nipples tickling Me.?”

“Mmm,” I sighed distractedly.

Then my own sissy cock betrayed me as it stiffened then gently prodded at John’s buttocks.

“Hey!” He squeaked as he span around and searched to see my modest little dolly. “Why you naughty little imp! I thought you said you were heterosexual!”

He scowled as he peered down to where my breasts prevented him getting a proper look at my sweet little stiffy.

“I am! I am!” I cried nervously. “It’s just that my sissy cock constantly gets horny. I can’t help it. Whenever I’m around other naked people, she just grows hard. I can’t help it; it’s just the way sissies are. Well, it’s the way sissies with cockettes are. We’re just made that way! We can’t help it!”

“Cockettes?” Wondered John as he drank in my firm bouncy tits topped by two delicious pink nipples that had become as hard as thimbles with my automatic arousal. “Let me have a look.”

“Yes, cockettes; see,” I replied as I parted my breasts to give him a better view as he peered further, “she’s not quite a cock because she’s too small, but she’s much bigger than Davinia, see she’s only got a sissy clitty.”

Davinia frowned enviously and tried crossing her legs but John ignored his sissified brother.

“I know what Davinia’s is like, she’s shown me. I want to see yours, open your legs.”

Nervously, I sat back on the shower seat and supported my ankles on John’s shoulders as I raised my slender legs and parted them. John now had a good clear view of everything and he smiled as he nodded his head.

“Well I never! You’re really cute. That’s quite a neat little cock, - no, I mean cockette, isn’t it?” Chuckled John as he peered in for a better view...

I smiled shyly as he gently reached out and fingered my stiff erect pink nipples.

“I thought all sissies were like Davinia. Will Davinia grow tits as nice as yours; they’re nice and bouncy aren’t they?”

“Oh yes,” I confirmed, “all the sissies at Mistress Janet’s grow tits. That’s the default condition. There are several types of sissies. Some even have full sized cocks. They’re called entire sissies because they’ve still got all the full-sized dangly bits, plus a pair of tits and a girl’s shape.

I’ve never met an entire sissy cos’ they are usually older boys or even young men who’ve been sissified. I suppose you could be one of those, if you become a sissy quickly.”

Davinia interrupted as she became emboldened by her older brother John’s honest curiosity about our sissified condition and yet without any threat or condemnation.

“You’d have to do it soon though,” she advised, “older men have trouble passing if they’ve grown into a man’s shape and too tall. You’re just turned fifteen so you could still grow a woman’s shape. You know broad hips and slender shoulders. Your body’s nice and smooth with no hair yet so you should have no trouble.”

John fell silent as he became thoughtful and smiled affectionately at his younger sissified brother. Then he turned to me again.

“D’you think Janice would love me if I became a sissy?”

“I don’t know. She likes me and loves my little cockette.”

“How do you know?” Begged John.

“We sleep together and play together.”

“And you get milked together,” added Davinia, “the sissies in your class told me.”

“Milked?” Queried John as he grew more and more intrigued.

“Ooh heck! I forgot to mention.” I gasped, “Janice and I are both members of the sissy herd. We have to get milked twice a day.”

“What? You mean like cows?”

“Exactly like cows,” interrupted Davinia with a girlish giggle, “at seven o’clock tonight you’ll notice them disappear then they’ll reappear at about eightish. I’ll bet that’s why were all having the supper around the campfire late, after eight o’clock. “
I crimsoned a bit with embarrassment as John’s smile widened with amusement and his gaze fell again onto my stiff pink nipples.

“Who milks you?”

“We’ve got a portable milking machine. We take it wherever we go. It’s in the anteroom between my and Janice’s bedroom.”

“Can I see it?” Begged John.

“Sorry. Janice is the mistress, she keeps the key.”

“Oh golly, grinned John as his cock started to grow. The very thought of you two being milked, why it’s fantastic. Have you got milk now, in those delicious tits? If you’re like a cow you will have.”

I nodded affirmation and his head moved closer for a more intimate examination.

“If I were to suck them now, would your tits give milk?”

“Yes, but you’re not allowed to. Janice is my mistress and she would have to give permission.”

“Oooh! Is that right?” Chuckled John.

“Yes,” confirmed Davinia as she sensed things might be taking a turn for the worse.

“But what would happen if I just took you now and sucked them?” Smiled John lasciviously.

“You’d be breaking your promise not to hurt us or do anything naughty. Remember; the promise you made in the corridor just now,” Davinia argued determinedly, “you’ve got to ask Janice!”

“Right I’m going to ask Janice as soon as we meet again.”

“Ask Janice what?” Sounded a girl’s voice as our bathroom door opened and Simone stepped boldly in.

I let out a squeak of surprise and John span around to confront his sister Simone. Davinia grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her boobs to cover her torso.

“You should knock before coming in,” He protested, “I never burst in on you girls.”

“Well it’s a good job I didn’t knock. Who’d have thought that you three would be playing doctors and nurses?”

John crimsoned a deep scarlet as I desperately lowered my legs and flung my towel around my body to recover what little modesty I could. My efforts were futile however; Simone had caught the three of us in flagrant delecto and there was no denying that John had been investigating my little secrets. By Now Janice had followed Simone into our bathroom but she simply grinned knowingly. She turned to Simone and wagged her head knowingly.

“See, I told you they wouldn’t be able to resist checking each other out. Boys are all the same inside their heads, even if they are complete sissies. It’s in their genes; sissies or not they always succumb to their hormones.”

“I see what you mean Jan,” agreed Simone, “but I always had my older brother for a sweet caring boy. He’s never shown any tendencies like this before.”

Janice smiled and placed her hand around John’s waist as she hugged him to her.

“Oh he’s sweet and caring alright. Nobody can deny that, but boys will be boys.” She turned and looked up into John’s still scarlet face as she smiled sweetly. “Did you like what my beautiful sissy brother's got?”

“John stood stock still for long moments before finding his voice.”

“It’s Michelle, she’s a sissy but she’s, - she’s just so very pretty. I just couldn’t understand I wanted to find out for myself.”

“Find out what darling?” Pressed Janice knowingly.

“I, - I, - well, I, - I, - wa, - I wanted to, -.”

“You wanted what darling, come on, don’t be shy. Spit it out.”

“Well, I, - was just checking to see what being a sissy felt like.”

“Well the only way you could do that would be to become a sissy. Is that what you really want?”

John fell silent and stared dumbly at Janice as she peered intently into his eyes. John’s very hesitation advised Janice that there was some sort of feeling troubling the older boy. She frowned concernedly as she asked softly.

“Do you really want to become a sissy?”

Again, John hesitated then mumbled softly.

“Only if you’d love me, I, - I, - I love you but Michelle told me you only love sissies. Would I have to be, - be, - become a sissy to win your love?”

Janice was totally taken aback by John’s stuttering declaration. Even Simone let out a soft gasp of surprise.

“Oh my gosh!” Gasped Simone as Janice simply stood rooted to the spot. Simone continued talking to Janice.

“Well, he must really love you if he’s prepared to turn into a sissy for you.”

Janice finally found her voice and whispered.

“But your parents, what would they do? What about continuing your gypsy clan?”

“We could have children. I’m giving up the gypsy ways. Even my mum and dad say it’s done for. There’s no peace and were persecuted everywhere we go.”

“He’s right there,” confirmed Simone, “dad is just about worn out with it all. It’s every where we go, and the social workers are always bothering us about school and stuff.”

“So what’s your plan? Pressed Janice, “do you really love me or do you just see a way to use me to escape from the gypsy life.

“Oh I love you! I’ve loved you since the first day we met down by the pool.”

“But what about making a living?” Continued Janice. Money doesn’t just grow on trees.”

“I don’t know,” confessed John, “I hadn’t even thought of that. I could get a job.”

“What as. If you’re a sissy, there are not many jobs and you’ve missed an awful lot of schooling.”

“I can write my name!” Protested John, “and I can count to a hundred and add up and do take-a-way’s.”

“That’s a fat lot of good! You’re fifteen now. You wouldn’t even qualify to be a garbage collector.”

“I can still make money with my dad collecting scrap.”

“If you become a sissy darling, you won’t even have the strength lift an old iron bed frame. Sissies are pathetically weak. Look at Davinia; you’ve seen how weak she’s become. She can’t even lift the shafts of the vardo to harness the horse any more.”

John fell silent and crest-fallen. Everything Janice had said was true. He had no idea how to make a living apart from collecting scrap and doing casual work around farms that his family had worked upon for generations. He would never be able to help herd sheep for shearing, or trim hedges, or mend fences. All this was hard heavy farm work. His shoulders slumped with defeat and he turned away to get dressed. Janice watched him and her heart ached. John was one of the sweetest and most considerate boys she had even encountered. No at all like the boys she had met in London, the boys who had assaulted her sissy brother and left her traumatised. John was every woman’s dream, handsome, kind and considerate.

Even when they had been alone in the pool, Janice had never once felt threatened or intimidated. John had a natural gentleness about him that gave a girl peace of mind and a sense of security.

She looked at Simone and motioned to her to leave the sissies and John alone for a while. John had a lot of disappointments to get over.

Back in Janice’s bedroom Janice chatted with Simone.

“So what do you think of John actually offering to become a sissy just to win my love.”

“It’s just the sort of sacrifice John would make. He’s always been kind and generous to us sisters.”

“But a sissy! What do you think of sissies?”

“Well, until I saw the change in Davinia, I never really thought about it. I’ve never met a sissy until I met, Michelle and Davinia, and I never knew Michelle was a sissy until Davinia came home from Mistress Janet’s and told us.”

“What do you think of them now though?”

“Well, Davinia is a perfect sweetie now but I doubt she’s ever going please a girl. Her cock has all but disappeared. Mind you I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, she was a flipping menace before that she even tried it on me once but John soon put him right and gave him a right beating. Could you believe it! I’m his own sister for heaven’s sake!”

“Yeah, agreed Janice, but sissies don’t necessarily lose their cocks. If John turned into a sissy at his age, he could easily keep his cock. Doctor Williams has some very special medicines back at Mistress Janet’s.”

“Would he keep his cock then?” Wondered Simone.

“Oh yes, if I wanted him to, that is, if I did become his mistress.”

Simone smiled knowingly.

“Why Janice! I do believe you fancy him!”

It was Janice’s turn to blush as she softly confessed.

“I do, but only if he’s sissified. I like my boys to be soft and cuddly and kind and gentle. If he was a sissy, John would be just perfect.”

“You mean with breasts and hips and stuff.”

Janice nodded apologetically and hung her head.

“But that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” offered Simone supportively, “you still like him with his cock and you could still have children!”

“But how would you feel?” Pressed Janice, “I mean, what with the clan and all that?”

“The clan’s just about petered out,” sighed Simone wistfully, “John’s right about that. We’re the last real gypsy travellers in these parts and to tell the truth, it’s turning into a nightmare. Everybody thinks were thieving tinkers and we’re not. We even have to keep the vardoes and the horses as a sort of statement to prove we’re true gypsies. We’d love to have those posh new caravans like the tinkers but they attract all sorts of animosity. The vardoes are small and it’s been hell for my mum and dad since we kids arrived. Besides that, we have to run a truck just to make the scrap dealing work and that causes problems because you have to register a truck at a known address.”

“But Uncle Jenny sorts that out doesn’t she? I mean the transit truck is registered here. Anyway besides all the money stuff, what would your dad say if John became a sissy?”

“I just don’t know. That’s the billion dollar question!” Confessed a worried Simone.

“Does John really want to become a sissy or is he just saying that to win me over.” Janice pressed as she sought reassurance.

“I don’t know,” confessed Simone, “all I can say is that there must be some sort of sissy germ there for him to even consider it, I mean a typical boy would just refuse and move on to another girl.”

“Well he is kind, sweet, gentle and thoughtful; I mean the way he treats Davinia and Michelle points to that. Besides us real girls of course!”

“He once told me he hated having to fight Davinia to keep the peace, Davinia; or rather David was always the aggressive one when they were both boys. By the way, he was going to ask you something before when we burst in on them. He got distracted by our teasing about doctors and nurses. I think we should ask him about that. It might give us a few pointers. I’d hate for John to make a big mistake. He’s a super brother, not like David was. I’d hate for John to make some horrible irreversible mistake. Davinia deserved to be punished and sissified but John is a totally different thing. To tell the truth, I find Davinia to be a fantastic sister now. It’s really nice having such a sweet tempered and obedient sissy around the camp. It would be fascinating to see what would happen if John became a sissy.”

“You can’t make him a sissy just to satisfy your curiosity Simone,” objected Janice, “I mean it’s a permanent life changing thing. It can’t be reversed, at least not after Mistress Janet’s schooling.”

“Will you ask him what he wanted to ask you about,” suggested Simone, “after all it was you he wanted to ask.”

“I’ll speak to him after they are dressed, OK.”

“OK. I’ll take my sisters and go and help Auntie Beverly prepare the food for the meal tonight around the fire.”

“Good idea, leave this to me.”

Simone gathered her two younger sisters and led them down to the kitchen while Janice smartened herself up and prepared to enter the dragon’s lair, the sissy’s room. She knocked softly and John bid her come in. She found Michelle brushing Davinia’s hair while John was sitting on the bed idly watching.

“Can I chat with you a moment John.” She asked with a wide inviting smile.

John savoured the smile as he nodded and stepped after her through the ante-room into Janice’s bedroom. Janice turned and invited John to sit on her huge four poster bed.

“What is it?” He asked innocently.

“Simone said your were going to ask me something earlier, when she burst in on you.”

For a brief Second, John struggled to remember then the light switched on in his head.

“Oh! Yes! Michelle said something about you and her being members of a sissy herd or something, is it true?”
Janice blushed slightly then smiled apologetically as she confirmed it in her softest voice.

“Yes, it’s true.”

John only just heard the faintest whisper of an answer and realised that Janice was slightly embarrassed.

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed by it,” added John in the most comforting and supportive voice he could find.

“I’m not usually embarrassed by it, countered Janice as she recognised John’s support. I only move in sissy-herd circles and to me it’s normal. All my sissy friends are sissy-herders.”

“Yes, that’s what Michelle said, so it’s true then you have to be milked twice a day like dairy cows.”

Janice nodded and smiled as she blushed some more.

“Michelle said you have a milking machine or something. Was that it in the anteroom?”

Janice nodded again and John nodded as he hesitated. Janice sensed what the next question would be. From the stories amongst the older girls and sissies who came back to Mistress Janet’s academy on `Old Girls reunion day’, Janice knew that all men were fascinated by the thought of sissies giving milk and they invariably wanted to see two sissies being milked. Some mistresses allowed it, but most mistresses would not. Humiliation of a sissy was usually reserved for a mistress. Nevertheless, Janice braced herself for the question but John, ever the thoughtful, gentle soul, still hesitated. Janice decided to encourage him.

“Simone said you were going to ask me something, is it about sissy milking?”

John was thoughtful and courteous enough to blush as he nodded uncertainly.

`At least he’s got the good manners to be embarrassed about his desires,’ thought Janice as she slowly nodded her head.

“OK then darling, but only you, OK! You can come with Michelle and me and watch us milking. Tonight between seven and eight. After it’s over, then you can ask us questions, OK?”

John smiled widely and nodded before reaching forward and planting a hesitant kiss on Janice’s velvety lips. Janice responded eagerly and flung her hands around his neck and crushed his mouth to hers. `John was such a sweet kind boy, he’s going to make a wonderful sissy!’ she thought. `I’m just so lucky to find such a lovely jewel.’ They lay in this passionate embrace for long minutes before they finally relinquished their hold and decided to join the others preparing the food in the kitchen.

For the remainder of the early evening, John could hardly contain himself. Janice and Michelle realised why and they exchanged excited glances as they anticipated John’s delight when he learned just what happened when sissies were milked. When he saw Janice and Michelle enjoying a sissygasm he would probably become a full convert to sissydom.

This chapter dwells upon the voluntary sissification of the older gypsie boy John and the expanding circle of friends who are getting involved in Michelle and Janice's sissified life.

Does this camouflage really work?

The Sissy farm

Chapter 19

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.

Author’s Note for my US Sisters. A Vardo is an old, highly decorated, horse drawn gypsy caravan.

In the kitchen that afternoon as we all helped prepare the meal for the camp fire, Uncle Penny started taking some firewood and big pots down to the gypsy camp. When she returned, John’s gypsy mother appeared with her. She wanted her son John to help build the fire and get it lit because their father had still not yet returned from the farm where he had garnished some work repairing and trimming hedges. Reluctantly, John abandoned the work in the kitchen and returned with his mother to stack up the firewood and cut the wood into manageable cordwood. Eventually we sissies and the girls arrived at the campsite loaded with food just as John was preparing to light the fire.

“Where’s daddy?” asked Isobel, John’s youngest sister.

“He’s not home yet,” replied John.

The gypsies had no mobile phones and they simply had to wait until their father returned. For a while the girls and we sissies played some games in the clearing behind the vardoes while John concentrated on getting the fires ready. Eventually, it started to get dark and I felt my breasts beginning to ache. I turned to Janice who nodded secretively and we started to sidle away from the group in preparation to returning to the big house to milk our breasts. John had obviously anticipated our move and by now the fire had caught. It was simply a matter of letting the fire burn to form the glowing embers that produced the steady heat most conducive to camp-fire cooking.

John’s mother’s back was turned as she and Auntie Bev prepared the food so our departure was not noticed. We were in the big house before our absence was spotted but Auntie Beverly knew the score. She explained to the others that her children had gone up to the big house for a while and they would be back to join in the meal around eightish. Once in the ante-room, Janice and I wasted no time attaching our breasts to the milking machine and we lay facing each other as the milk started to splash from our breasts into the transparent plastic suckling cups. John gazed with fascinated delight and giggled as he watched me sprout `a condition’ in my panties.

“Oh gosh! You really do give milk like cows! That’s just fantastic!”

Janice and I said nothing as the suckling sensation started to activate our other feelings and before long we were moaning softly as the sensations sent deep waves of lust rippling along our milk lines down to our cores. John’s eyes widened into stares as he eventually recognised what was happening to us.

“Oh my God!” He squealed. You two are, - you’re coming aren’t you?”

Janice nodded absently whilst I simply continued climbing to my crescendo. We were already too far gone to care. John was also becoming excited by the activity and he knelt down beside us on the milking sofa. Janice looked at him uncertainly then gasped.

“What?”

John hesitated for a few moments before plucking up the courage to ask.

“What, - what does it taste like? Is it like, - like cow’s milk?”

“No. It’s warmer and sweeter,” replied Janice as her feelings began to overtake her.

“Can I, - can I taste some?”

Janice sighed angrily at the interruption then she had a thought. She knew that sissy milk turned boys into sissies and if John was really genuine about being a sissy, perhaps a little taster of my milk might help to start him on the path to sissyhood. She smiled to herself and motioned John’s lips towards my breast. I was already too far gone to be aware of anything for my eyes were closed and I was moaning softly as my body responded furiously to the sucking of the teats. At Janice’s silent instruction John placed his lips as close as he could then Janice gently broke the vacuum of the teat. I flinched for a moment but John was quick to realise his duty and he quickly latched onto my squirting nipple so that only a few drops were lost. Janice quickly isolated my teat so that the vacuum of the machine wasn’t broken and soon John was sucking greedily at my bounteous supply.

When he realised just how sweet my sissy milk was, he let out a few guttural snuffles of delight before eagerly availing himself of my precious treat. It was a full ten minutes before I properly realised that John bad been suckling my left breast. As the flow slowly decreased and my orgasmic climax passed I moved to adjust my breast when I felt Johns cheek instead of the mechanical sucking teat. Only then did I realise that John was latched onto my breast. In my transfixed orgasmic state I had not even realised that John’s greedy suckling had been any different from normal. I had only realised that John’s soft boyish cheek was nuzzled against my breast when I moved my hand to ease the teat from my empty breast. As I felt his lips nuzzling at my breast and his cheek gently rubbing its peachy fuzz up and down my creamy orb I came to with a start.

“Eek! What’cher doing!” I squeaked.

“I’mmmph,” he mumbled with my nipple still lodged between his lips.”

“Get off!” I squeaked as I tried feebly to resist the delicious sensations still pulsing through my engorged nipple for John was now tongue-lashing my empty nipple.

My fingers fumbled feebly at his face but I was too far gone to care. However, Janice knew that our milk was finished so she reached to the side and switched off the machine. Then she gently slipped her fingers between John’s lips and broke the suction on my nipple as she gently scolded the gypsy boy.

“Don’t be greedy darling. You could hurt poor Michelle if you suck too hard on her empty tits. Those are not just toys for greedy little boys; they are also real milking tits. Michelle always has to take proper care of them for the rest of her milking life. You mustn’t ever abuse them.”

Reluctantly, John released my nipple and he sighed contentedly as he savoured the last sweet droplets.

“That was just so delicious. Gosh Michelle! Your milk is as sweet as custard.”

I smiled shyly as I gently cupped my breasts back into my nursing bra while John simply stared with fascination. Then he turned to Janice.

“Is your milk like Michelle’s?”

“What? You mean as sweet as hers?” Confirmed Janice

“Well, - yes.” Replied John. “A boy could become addicted to Michelle’s milk. It’s just so sweet.

“Well, no actually it’s not as sweet as Michelle’s. Sissy milk is a very special luxury, that’s why Michelle has to have a high protein and high carbohydrate diet. My milk is quite sweet though. You can try some tomorrow if you want.”
John’s eyes widened with delight as he licked his lips to wipe away the last tantalising traces of my deliciously sweet milk. The very idea of getting to suck Janice’s tits left him tense with excitement and we both noticed him turning away slightly as he adjusted his trousers. Janice and I grinned knowingly. John didn’t know it but he was already on his way to sissydom and he would soon become addicted to sissy milk. Finally Janice and I were respectable again and we made our way to the camp fire ready to indulge in a feast.

By now Auntie Jamie had joined us after driving down from London with Victoria and several of our school friends. Janice and I spent several minutes introducing everybody and soon the party was in full swing. Davinia brought out a guitar while Simone produced a violin and the festivities perfectly resembled the scenes from `A Gypsy Wedding’. John was fascinated by Jemima, Victoria’s sissified brother.

He was also enchanted by Sophia and her sissy brother Angelica not to mention the two delightfully bimboised sissies Nancy and Delilah. He turned to me after we had gorged ourselves and asked about Nancy and Delilah.

“That Nancy and Delilah, They’re very much like Davinia, very effeminate but a pair of airheads.”

“Yes John, I replied. They were punished for attacking me and leaving me badly traumatised; just like Davinia attacked
Janice. As a punishment they’ve been bimboised as well as being sissified. When they are adults they’ll be totally devoted to clothes and fashion and serving whoever their mistresses are.”

“But they, - they’re just so dizzy aren’t they, I mean all they do is simper and giggle and prance around their bags and bonnets.”

“Yeah, they’re the `Essex girls’ of sissydom,” I declared. “They’re complete bimbos!”

“Are they like Davinia down below?” Continued the intrigued John.

“Oh completely. Their sissy clits are even smaller if anything. D’you want to see?”

“Good God! Won’t they object?”

“Not really,” I told him, “Nancy and Delilah are completely programmed to obey a mistress, any mistress; they’ve hardly got any wills of their own. I’ll ask Sophia to make them `show and tell’, Sophia was a senior last year and the pair will obey her completely.”

“Crickey, this is going to be good,” giggled John as I stepped into the loom of the campfire and deferentially approached Sophia. She turned towards me and smiled patronisingly as she continued dancing to the beat.”

“What do you want, sweetie?”

“It’s the older gypsy boy John, mistress,” I replied respectfully, “he doesn’t believe that Nancy and Delilah will do anything you tell them.”

“I’ll sort it out later petal; I’m enjoying the dancing right now. Why aren’t you dancing?”

“It’s John mistress, he’s thinking of becoming a sissy and taking up my time. He’s full of questions.”

“Good gracious my sweetest little Michelle!” Smiled Sophia condescendingly. “Where do you keep finding all these delicious boys? You must attract them like moths to a candle!”

I shrugged hesitantly and Sophia bent down to give me a tender kiss as she invited me to join in.

“Well join in the party darling, we need more sissy company, and try and get that beautiful Gypsy boy to join in, he’s delicious isn’t he?”

I nodded respectfully and returned to share sitting on one of the vardo shafts with John as we chatted some more. Then I tried to persuade him to join the dancing. He declined shyly.

“I’m not a very good dancer.”

“So what,” I giggled scornfully. Look at Uncle Penny, have you ever seen such a disorganised, wimpish frop but she’s enjoying herself.”

John grinned as Uncle Penny stumbled yet again and he realised that nobody cared a hoot. Everybody was bent on enjoying themselves as Davinia hammered away on the guitar and banged her heel rhythmically against the footboard of the vardo. Eventually John plucked up the courage to join in and I knowingly led him to the centre where Janice was totally engrossed in the music. Within minutes he was swaying rhythmically and he quickly demonstrated that he was no mean dancer. John had lied about his dancing skills! Janice smiled widely as she quickly fell into step with the boy then joined him in an embrace as their bodies moulded against each other.

“Hey, you’re bloody good gypsy boy! Where did you learn to dance?”

“Mum taught me the steps because I’m no good with instruments. Dad taught Davinia and Simone the instruments.” Admitted John self consciously.

“Gosh, you’re going to break some girl’s heart one day, if you can move like that.”

“I’d like that heart to be yours,” offered John nervously as he tensed himself for the refusal. It never came and he swallowed hopefully as he realised that Janice was not a totally lost cause.

He had the wit not to press his suit any further that night. After several more energetic turns around the camp fire, John’s mother took him aside.

“What’s up mum?” He asked.

“I’m worried about your dad. He knew we were having a party tonight but there’s no sign.”

John stopped thoughtfully and bit his lip.

“Where d’you think he is?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like your dad to stop out late and he loves a campfire party. He avoids pubs because that invites trouble for gypsies so I can’t think where he’s got to. I hope he’s OK”

“Perhaps he’s invited some other gypsy friends and he’s rounding them up.”

“There’s none around this district anymore,” sighed his mother,” we’re the last. Our only relatives are down Somerset way and that’s far too far to invite them to a party. I’m getting worried.”

“Don’t worry Mum; I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”

But their dad didn’t turn up and it was eleven o’clock before a police car picked its way up the drive to the big house. It’s flashing blue lights quickly declared it’s function and Auntie Jamie trotted up the lane from the campfire to the big house. He just managed to catch the police before they were debating whether to leave and return in the morning. As they explained the situation to Auntie Jamie, the rest of us walked hesitantly into the loom of the front courtyard light.

Uncle Jamie quickly whispered the circumstances to John and his mother and the poor woman let out a wail of fear.

“Is it bad?” She cried.

"The police weren’t certain but they offered to take her to the hospital and tell her on the way."

She accepted the invite and John accompanied her as the rest of us gathered around Auntie Jamie to garnish the news.

“They couldn’t tell me lot girls; they were more concerned for your mother's fears. I can say your father’s alive and whatever’s wrong is no longer life threatening. Apparently he’s stable.

The girls fell silent then soft tears began to fall. The rest of us, girls and sissies alike, gathered around to offer support and all of us entered the house. Uncle Penny went back to the camp site and doused the camp fire while Auntie Beverly and Auntie

Jamie made the gypsy children comfortable. The party mood was utterly destroyed. Nobody slept much that night.
The following morning found us all at the hospital where we learned that William Bandy had been attacked outside the village shop by a gang of newcomers to the village. Apparently, there had been some recent thefts and of course the gypsy got blamed.
He had tried to show that his transit was only loaded with logs and sticks from his hedge cutting work but nobody was prepared to see sense. William Bandy had been attacked, beaten and left for dead. Fortunately the village shopkeeper had identified the attackers for he knew William of old. William usually bought his tobacco at the store each morning whenever he was in the area. Nevertheless, William’s injuries were serious and the doctors could not yet give a prognosis.

William had spoken to his wife Morag and reassured her he was OK but one leg and an arm was broken. The beating had been a violent one but the police were glad to have a reliable witness. Soon, the other, older long term inhabitants of the village started arriving at the hospital to offer William their support.

Finally the farmer for whom William had been working on the hedges, arrived to give a character reference and confirm that the fine pile of logs and sticks on the back of the transit pick up was rightfully William’s firewood; part of his wages, as it were. The farmer offered to drive the transit back to the camp and Uncle Penny lent him the keys to the driveway gates.

“Just leave the truck behind my barns; we’ll sort out what to do later.”

The farmer knew Peregrine and Beverly from childhood and he smiled knowingly at the `woman’ he had once known as a boy in childhood. He smiled condescendingly but there was no animosity. Uncle Penny did not farm our land and the farmer rented most of the useable pastures for his own cattle. Apart from the land deal there was little intercourse between Uncle Penny and the farmer. Uncle Penny spent all his working time running the pub and club enterprises in London. The big house had become little more that a weekend retreat.

Some of the villagers expressed concerns for the gypsy family but Uncle Penny reassured them that the children would be looked after up at the big house. Uncle Penny (AKA Peregrine) and Auntie Jamie (AKA James,) ran a successful enterprise up in Pimlico and there was no shortage of money. The rest of the day was spent by Auntie Beverly and Uncle Penny, sorting out care arrangements for the gypsy children. The reassurance that the gypsy children would be properly housed, bedded and fed in the big house, was sufficient evidence to keep the social services at bay. Indeed the social workers were mildly shocked to learn that the children were to be educated at a private school.

“Call it a favour for the many good turns William Bandy has done for me,” countered Uncle Penny. “When I was a boy, I was always made welcome at his fireside and he taught me to ride. I was terrified of horses until he put me right. he brought me lots of joy as a boy and gave me the self confidence to many things. Now it’s payback time. How I spread my wealth is entirely for me to decide, OK? William Bandy’s children will be properly cared for until he is up and running again.”

The social workers didn’t have a leg to stand on. The gypsy children would stay together as a family and be properly cared for by their mother.

That evening, Morag Bandy the children’s gypsy mother returned from the hospital with glittering tears of gratitude in her eyes. John was still staying at his father’s bedside as a family representative, while his mother addressed the other children’s needs. It was at that hospital bedside that John and his father concluded regretfully, that the travelling life was over for the family. Another beating like that might kill any one of them. Life was not safe for genuine gypsy travellers anymore.

The following day, John rejoined the children and set to addressing all the `man’s work’ around the camp. Janice chatted to him at lunch time and he discussed the future arrangements.

“My dad says the travelling ways are through. I’ll have to somehow make another life.”

“And?” Pressed Janice.

John stared thoughtfully at his axe as he rested it on the cutting log then he looked up shyly at Janice and replied nervously.

“Being a sissy sounds nice, provided you’re my wife or mistress, or whatever it is you become.”

“It’s a big step,” cautioned Janice, “though methinks there’s a bit of sissy in you already.”

“Yeah. Maybe!” Sighed John as he leant across to gently plant a nervous kiss on Janice’s velvety lips. “But I love you. Truth to tell, I have for a long time. Every year I couldn’t wait for the summer camp here in your woods. I used to wait patiently every July until your came home from that Mistress Janet’s academy.”

“Boys who want to be sissies, boys like you, are usually preordained towards it. Have you discussed it with your dad?”

“I’ve intimated that I want to go to the same school as Davinia. I said it would be cheaper if we all went to the same school, me and my sisters. Auntie Beverly says it’s a big saving and will make it easier for Uncle Penny if he’s paying the fees. Dad’s agreed to that.”

Janice frowned slightly and wondered if William Bandy understood the full implications for his son. John continued.

“Will I have to wear a corset like Davinia? His, - I mean her waist is tiny now. You could snap her in half.”

“She’s a sissy now John, you can snap just about all sissies in half, especially if they’re ex pupils of Mistress Janet’s. You won’t have the strength to do the man’s work around here any more. Becoming a sissy means big changes.”

“There won’t be any more ‘here’. My dad’s giving up the travelling ways. I don’t suppose there will be anymore camps and campfires. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the vardoes. I suppose he’ll sell them to some museum or other. I’ll miss that bit, the campfires and the woods and stuff.

“You don’t have to give them up,” countered Janice, “my Uncle Penny says that he’ll need a caretaker down here now that new estate’s been built at the other side of the village. It’s the newcomers from that estate that attacked your dad. Their kids will be swarming all over here unless there’s somebody to keep an eye out.”

“I don’t think my dad’s going to be much up to security duties.

“Well his job will be much easier. The farmer who brought home your transit pickup says he’s going to have to put up much more secure fencing around the cattle pastures. These new incomers have no idea about farming and country ways. Uncle Jenny has agreed and they’re going to share the costs. Auntie Jamie’s dad, Earl Weston is also securing his boundaries. It’s the signs of the times I’m afraid.”

John sighed wistfully.

“Yeah, d’you remember when we simply wandered at will through the woods.”

“We will still be able to do that silly! They are still our woods!”

“Oh yes. Stupid me!” Grinned John.

“And when Auntie Jamie inherits his dad’s estate the whole area will become one again.”

“Gosh. Do you stand to inherit anything?”

“Only from my Auntie Beverly,” sighed Janice, “she and Uncle Penny jointly own this farm and the woods.”

“So the biggest part belongs to Auntie Jamie.”

“Yes, she’s going to inherit her father Earl Weston’s title and estates. Legally, she’s still a man you see.”

“Gosh! You’d never think it. Those police never twigged did they?”

“No. She passes as a woman very well, but she’s still got all her boy bits, and they work!”

“If I was a sissy, I could be like her couldn’t I?

“Yes John, you could,” agreed Janice.

“Would you love me if I was?”

“What? Like Auntie Jamie. You could do a lot worse. Auntie Jamie’s ever so nice.”

“Yes, I know. Nodded John. “She was really good to mum before the Police car took her to hospital.”

“Well darling. If you were as nice as Auntie Jamie, I believe I could like you; even love you.”

John’s heart bounced with joy. He had grown to almost worship Auntie Jamie after the sissy had been so kind and helpful to his mother at the hospital. Nothing had been too much for Auntie Jamie. John promised himself that he’d have a long chat with Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie and look for pointers that might endear him to Janice. He had already decided to go down the sissy route but he had not told anybody yet. Poor, sweet John had not yet realised that Janice was partly toying with his emotions and yet she was immensely fond of him. The relationship, if it ever matured would not be entirely one of passionate lovers. Janice would have to have a degree of control over her sissy even if she did indulge him with heterosexual treats.

That evening, she deepened John’s ensnarement by allowing him to suckle at her bounteous breast instead of mine. Because she had taken some of the ‘Sissy Herd Hormones’ to activate her own milk glands prematurely, her milk was almost as addictive as mine though not quite as potent. However, John had already formed his preference; reluctantly he confessed that he preferred my milk even though he preferred to be intimate with Janice by suckling her tits as well.

Janice made a small pretence of being upset by his preference for my milk but she was really secretly pleased that John would in future prefer to suckle from me. Every evening dosage of sissy milk from my breasts drew John deeper into sissyhood although the effects were so subtle and gradual that John failed utterly to notice. A few days after John’s nightly treat had become fully established, Simone happened accidentally upon us in the anteroom. Janice had forgotten to lock the doors. As she entered innocently she discovered the evening milking process in full swing and her jaw sagged before her eyes widened into a licentious smile.

“What’s going on here?” she giggled.

For a moment we froze with shock but Janice quickly recovered her wits and pretended that everything was perfectly normal.

“What d’you mean, what’s going on? What does it look like?”

Janice’s bold response took Simone’s breath aback for a moment before she recovered her own probity.

“Oh! Come on! Why’s John sucking Michelle’s tits?”

“Because it’s milking time!” Riposted Janice.

“Milking time! What’s that?”

“Milking time, what d’you think it is. It’s the time of day when sissies have to be milked.”

For a long moment Simone stared stupidly at the strange machine attached to both Janice’s nipples and one of mine as John suckled on my other. Then her eyes widened as she gasped.

“What! You mean like cattle, - like dairy cows?”

“Of course! What else?”

“But, - but, - are you saying your being milked; by that ma, - machine?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Now if you don’t mind, we need to get on and get finished. Auntie Bev wants help preparing the special room for your dad when he comes out of hospital. The sooner we finish milking, the sooner we can return to cleaning the room. Auntie Bev’s got enough extra work with all you kids and things.”

“Does Auntie Bev know about this?”

“Of course, we get milked every day!”

“Twice a day,” I added for good measure.”

Simone frowned again then stared at John who had remained with his lips attached to my nipple to prevent any milk spurting out.
She turned again to Janice.

“Yeah. OK, that makes sense, but does she know about John, does she know he’s feeding like a baby off Michelle’s tits.”

“She doesn’t need to know.” Declared Janice. “John likes the milk so he’s only taking a little bit as a nightcap. It would be just the same if Michelle’s milk was poured into a glass and he drank from that. This saves the washing up. It’s to save Auntie Bev the extra work.”

Simone gave Janice and `old’ look then responded.

“Yeah. Like that makes sense. D’you think I’m stupid? John’s doing it cos he likes it, - or Michelle likes it. It’s either or both.”

“So, what if they do? Nobody’s hurting anybody.”

“It’s kinky if you ask me.”

“Well, we’re not asking you, snapped Janice as she finally felt her breasts empty and she switched off her side of the machine before asking me.

“Are you finished yet darling?”

My right tit nearly is, but John’s stopped sucking on my left tit and there’s still some in there.”

“Yeah. Simone made me stop.” Grumbled John as he quickly returned to my nipple to catch the still spurting milk.

Simone stared at the spilled droplets and squeaked.

“Have you still got some?”

I nodded.

”Yeah, there’s still a bit in both tits.”

“Ooh! Can I taste some?” Begged Simone.

I sighed and asked John.

“D’you want your sister Simone to finish my right tit off?”

John muttered with disappointment.

“I suppose I’ll have to let her. She’ll only blab it out to everybody around!”

He stopped suckling and I motioned to Simone to move in closer as I explained.

“Now listen. My milk is letting down naturally because John triggered it off. There’s still milk remaining in my right tit, I can feel it even though Janice is finished with hers, so there’s no need for you to suck hard! When Janice removes the teat from my right tit, you move in quickly or the milk will spurt everywhere. Remember you don’t have to suck much, the milk is letting down on its own.”

Janice got the jist of it and she lay with her head resting on my arm as she smiled into her brother John’s eyes.

“Is it nice bro?”

“Yeah, it’s delicious. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll never want cow’s milk again. Do just as Michelle says and don’t suck hard.”

“And don’t bite either!” I added for good measure.

As Janice carefully removed the teat from my right nipple, John expertly guided Simone’s head onto my spurting right nipple and Simone quickly took the rubbery pink bud into her mouth as she experimented with the strange new sensation. After the first couple of sucks she let out a contented sigh and briefly released my nipple to speak to her smiling brother.

“Mmmm! You’re dead right bro. It’s like honey, - Oh!”

“There I warned you,” I scolded her, “just shut up and keep suckling.”

She snorted where my spurting milk had splattered her nose and John passed her a tissue as she resumed suckling. Then she let out another contented sigh and gently rubbed her cheek against my right breast as she settled down to extracting the remaining milk in my tit. Her eyes quickly closed and Janice and I exchanged knowing looks. Simone would soon become addicted to my milk as well. Sissy milk was such powerful, dangerous stuff.”

John of course, still did not know that sissy milk affected boys and he smiled indulgently as he lay contentedly watching his sister lying sweetly on my breast as she finally drew the last dregs from my bounteous supply. When the milk stopped, Simone's eyes opened and she sighed.

“Oh. It’s finished. I so liked that!”

“I’ll bet you did. Well there’s no more until tomorrow night, and you better hadn’t tell your mum or dad, or it will be stopped for ever.”

“Oh that’s so unfair. I won’t tell, if you don’t tell.”

“Well that’s a given,” replied John. That’s a deal then. Nobody tells.

“Suite’s me then, I conceded as Janice nodded affirmation. “But you’ll have to suckle one each side tomorrow and every other night, and we’ll have to find some cow’s milk to make up the volumes. Auntie Bev occasionally checks to see we are producing the right amounts.

“Well, that’s not hard. I bring the milk in each morning now we are living here,” replied Simone,” I’ll have a word with the Milk man and ask him to leave an extra couple of pints.”

“Yeah, that should work,” added Janice,” Auntie Jamie never checks the bill and it won’t show anyway what with all the new people staying here.

With these arrangements confirmed, we finished milking for the evening and Janice and I gently treated our nipples with breast cream to keep them in good order. Simone and John grinned as we addressed our needs then John giggled.

“Would you like Simone and me to apply the cream?”

“Leave it there!” Snapped Janice. “You’re not my sissy yet!”

“I’ll be glad when I am,” sighed John as he gently rubbed his itching nipples.

Janice and I exchanged mildly surprised glances as we pondered.

`Could my sissy milk be working already?’ I wondered and I could see Janice thinking exactly the same thing. That evening Janice and I talked long and hard.

“I think you’re falling for John,” I sighed sorrowfully.

“But I’ll always love you darling, you’re my favourite sissy.”

“I thought we would always be together, you know, sleeping together and please only each other.”

“So did I,” sighed Janice wistfully, “but a girl grows up, and she can’t help falling for someone else. Childhood sweethearts don’t always get married. Anyway, it’s not right for us to get married. We can never have children because we’re related.”

I felt a pit open in my heart for I had always assumed Janice and I would be together forever. Without Janice as a kind and loving mistress, my life would begin to fall apart. The very thought of ending up as some mistreated abused sissy, tormented and beaten by some cruel mistress left me frightened. I felt a tear escaping from my eye. All my life’s hopes were being dashed before me.

‘How could Janice betray me so?’ I asked myself bitterly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as we lay cuddled together.

“You’re ditching me! You’re ditching me for that John, just because he’s got a proper cock. You always said you liked my cockette.”

“Now listen silly,” scolded Janice, “I’m not ditching you; nor am I abandoning you.

Look around you, you silly little sissy! This is a large comfortable house and when Auntie Jamie inherits his father’s title and estate, we’ll even be able to share the big hall. That’s got dozen’s of bedrooms. We’ll all be able to live as one big happy family.”

I tried to dry my tears and my lip quivered as I saw a glimmer of hope. If I could just live with Janice for the rest of my days that would be reward enough. Janice was just so sweet and gentle; it was hard to believe she would ever be a cruel mistress. Janice sensed that I was still not convinced so she pressed further.

“Look, my beautiful little sissy. Do you remember last year when I chose to join you in the sissy herd; to always share my milking with you and be with you until death did us part?”

I nodded as my sobs slowly subsided.

“Well there you are then. We’ll always be milked together, so we’ll always have to live together. A mistress can have two sissies you know. Besides, how do you know you won’t meet another sweet mistress one day?”

“Huh,” I shrugged disbelievingly, “the chances of that are almost nil. We’ve grown up together and we’ve always known each other. I know you’re kind and sweet, you’ve proved it throughout my childhood. You’ve always loved me and cared for me since I discovered I was a sissy. I couldn’t trust another mistress.”

Janice smiled enigmatically then whispered softly.

“Do you like Simone, John’s sister?”

“Of course I like her. She’s just like her older brother John, she’s kind and gentle. It’s their brother David who was the bad one and now he’s been sissified, the whole family is happy. There’s virtually no trouble and strife. Davinia is a perfect sissy now and makes the gypsy girl’s lives much easier.”

“Well Simone likes you.” Observed Janice with a knowing smile.

“So,” I argued, “the question is, does she want to be a mistress? She’s never shown any inclination to be interested in sissies.”

“Well you must be blind then. Have you seen the way she treats Davinia.”

“But that’s only a sisterly thing. Simone likes Davinia because Davinia happily does all the domestic chores.”

“You think so.” Countered Janice. “You just look again, look at Simone’s body language, look at the sparkle in her eyes when Davinia has finished her chores and joins us as a group. You just watch how Simone’s demeanour changes. She treats Davinia well when Davinia has completed all the chores. Just look at the curiosity and interest in Simone’s eyes. I’m telling you; Simone is interested in sissies.”

“How can you tell?” I snorted disbelievingly.

“Put it down to a girl’s intuition darling. You’re still only a sissy, you’re not a woman and you never will be. Women know these things. Just watch them when they are not doing their chores, when they are socialising. Simone’s much more tactile with Davinia than her younger sisters even. Mark my words, Simone likes sissies. Look how keen she is for John to become a sissy and there’s no real need for John to be sissified except by his own choice. She loved her older brother as a young man because he was kind and gentle then. Now she still loves him even though he wants to become a sissy. Believe me Michelle; Simone has no problems with sissies.”

I sniffed uncertainly. I was not completely convinced but I resolved to watch Simone more closely. She certainly was a lovely girl, indeed; almost as attractive as Janice and that made her a girl of some rare beauty. Her complexion showed that she led an outdoor life and she had a healthy tanned skin colour that complemented her rich titian hair and deep green eyes, almost emerald eyes. I suspected that there must have been some Celtic blood in Simone’s genes from way, way back. Certainly she was a well formed and very attractive girl. `A sissy could do worse for a mistress,’ I concluded `and she did have a sweet nature that belied the old adage that red-heads had terrible tempers.’ Simone was a very considerate and kind girl for I had often seen her tenderly looking after her younger sisters whilst still finding the time to cluck and fuss like an old hen around both her
brothers. Simone was one of nature’s natural carers. All this was long before sissification had appeared amongst her brothers.
The following morning broke with blazing sunshine. After completing our chores we visited John’s dad William Bandy in Hospital then we decided to go swimming in the pool.

This time Auntie Beverly decided to accompany us and we made a picnic of the occasion. It was whilst splashing and playing tag in the pool that I learned that John was already starting to `show’ in the breasts departments. As I sprang up from the water and wrapped my arms around him I suddenly realised that his pectoral muscles had acquired quite a bit of soft tissue. He gasped then giggled as my fingers discovered the soft flesh and I then naturally `tested’ his nipples. John let out a gasp of pure pleasure and his knees sagged as he collapsed under me into the pool.

Under the now muddied water, where nobody could see, he squirmed responsively as though making pretence of trying to escape my clutches but I could easily tell that he was responding to his nipples being gently brushed. Then I squirmed around to face him and felt his cock stiffen deliciously inside his swimming Speedos. After a few more seconds of sensual delight, we both exploded to the surface gasping for air.

“You’re it!” I squealed to disguise what had happened under the water, and then I splashed furiously away to gain the sanctuary of the bank. There Auntie Beverly smiled and offered me a sandwich. As I chewed on the bread Auntie Beverly eyed me knowingly.

“D’you like John?”

With my mouth full I nodded eagerly and smiled dreamily. Auntie Beverly nodded knowingly as she continued.

“You don’t fool me darling, I saw what happened. Don’t forget, I’m higher up here on the bank and I can see into the water better. The others may not have seen it, but I did.”

I blushed then smiled.

“But I’m a sissy now Auntie, it’s what sissies do.”

“Quite,” conceded Auntie Bev, “so has he progressed that quickly then. Is your milk that powerful?”

“It’s only his nipples Auntie.” I shrugged as I tried to play down the incident.

“And some noticeable breast tissue,” added Auntie Bev,”I’m not blind darling. John’s already changing, isn’t he?”
I nodded and blushed again as Auntie Bev smiled.

“He’ll be having to wear a bathing costume before he goes to Mistress Janet’s academy.”

“Well, that might be a good thing. At least he’s being sissified at his own speed.”

“What about corseting. He’ll have to start that soon. Have you spoken about it to him?”

“Crikey yes Auntie! He can’t help but notice our tiny waists. Davinia’s already told him. John’s a bit nervous but accepts it as part of the process, corseting goes with sissydom; at least it does at Mistress Janet’s.”

“Well I spoke to his mother last night. Now that she has moved into the house, there are very few tasks for a man around the old gypsy camp. John’s muscles won’t be missed.”

“They are keeping the vardoes though aren’t they?” I begged. “I mean they’ve got huge sentimental value. We could still have campfire parties even though we’ll all be sissies.”

“That’s up to Mr Bandy. When he comes out of hospital, he’s taking up caretaker duties here at the house. His broken leg will never heal properly so he can only do light duties.”

I fell silent. As children we had seen very little of Mr Bandy. He set off early to collect rag and bones or scrap and he came home late. It must have been a terrible wrench for him to have to give up his travelling life. `Amor, amore’s` I thought, `such are the times’.

“Oh I hope he keeps the vardoes. Try and persuade him. We can use them for camping out.” I begged.
Auntie Bev wagged her head thoughtfully.

“I’ll try,” she smiled affectionately, “but some gypsies have a tradition that when the owner of the Vardo dies, they burn the owner with the Vardo.”

I fell silent and nibbled delicately on my sandwich until John clambered out of the pool and sat beside me. I couldn’t help noticing how his `breasts’ wobbled as he reached forward and took a sandwich. Janice then also joined us and she also noticed when John next reached for another. Janice caught Auntie Beverly eye and made a secretive surreptitious sign with her hands to indicate John’s condition. There was no longer any doubt. My sissy milk was having remarkable effects and John definitely needed a bra!

That evening, Auntie Bev had a long chat with John’s mother Morag and later Morag chatted with her son.
The upshot was that Morag was reconciled to John’s wishes provided he could guarantee her a grandchild, preferably a son. Another Gypsy tradition apparently.

“After all,” conceded Morag, “he would be persecuted as a gypsy so what’s the difference from being persecuted as some sort of transvestite?”

Auntie Bev had pointed to me and explained.

“They don’t persecute Michelle. In fact nobody would ever know she’s a sissy, would they?”

Morag had apparently watched me as I chatted with Janice and Simone then conceded Auntie Beverly’s argument. It was true, I passed easily. She finally conceded the case. If their travelling lifestyle was over after hundreds of years then her son John might as well go in for a pound as for a penny. She chatted to her son as they discussed the visit to Miss Stern’s corsetry shop.

“Promise me you’ll behave now. Don’t let me down in Front of Miss Beverly!”

“Mummy,” sighed Jon with a smile,” I’m going to be measured for my corset and bra. I don’t think behaviour is the issue here is it?”

Morag chuckled as she realised the irony of her fears. `Her son John was going to be sissified for heaven’s sake, and he was volunteering for it.’ She reflected on the old adage about marriage and wondered if she was losing a son or gaining a daughter or gaining two daughters. The bizarre conundrum made her head spin and she gave up as Janice brought her a sweet cup of tea. Janice sensed her future mother-in-law’s fears and she sat beside her to reassure her.

“Don’t worry, despite what Davinia might have told you, life for a voluntary sissy at Mistress Janet’s is much easier and the added advantage is that all your children will receive an excellent academic education? Your daughters will have every opportunity to follow a real career based upon a sound education, if they wish.”

Morag frowned and turned to Janice.

“Will you look after him though, care for him and have a son by him? He’s my only hope of grandchildren now, at least by the clan’s rules.”

Janice smiled and nodded affirmation as she replied.

“Yes, I promise you I will do everything I can to give you and Mr Bandy a grandson.”

With this single major concern resolved Morag sighed with tearful relief and hugged her future daughter in law. Then John joined them and they fell to chatting about corseting and the forthcoming visit to Miss Stern’s corsetry shop.

The gypsies Both Morag and William had long realised that being gay or transsexual or transvestite was not a measure of a person’s decency. The fact that Beverly and Uncle Penny had always continued with our family’s age old hospitality towards their persecuted travelling family had demonstrated to William and Morag Bandy that Beverly, Penny and Jamie were kind, caring, decent people.

This chapter, (never before posted,) carries on the story of Michelle's experiences at Mistress Janet's sissy school. It also describes the voluntary sissification of a sixteen-year-old gypsie boy who wishes to give up the travelling life because of the uncertainties and dangers. The boy John, wishes to be come Joanna, Janice's sissy companion/spartner.

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I caught these two having a secret meeting at 0300. It's a good job I keep ridiculous hours. She was receiving orders from that 'Napoleon of the cat world.'

The Sissy farm Chapter 20.

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.

Chapter 20.

A few weeks later, at the end of the summer holidays, a Monday morning found us all tense with excitement as Auntie Beverly gathered what had become a veritable clan of future sissies and girls to meet Miss Portia with Victoria and Jemima outside Miss Stern’s corsetry shop.

It was early September and the autumn rains were gathering. All we other sissies were dressed in our prettiest dresses and school capes with our hoods up against the approaching rain, John had borrowed one of Victoria’s old school frocks and winter capes and he was furtively sheltering in the deep doorway. We sissies chattered nonchalantly with the girls as we admired the beautiful frocks in the windows. We felt no threats because we all readily passed and none of us would have been recognised us as once-upon-a-time boys. For John it was very different, he still had short hair and a boy’s thick waist thus he pulled up Victoria’s cape and hood to cover his give-away boy’s hair.

Eventually Miranda appeared behind the door and smiled invitingly as she released the bolts and raised the internal antitheft bars. John almost fell into the shop and stumbled up against Miranda’s soft pillowy bosom. Then he slipped to the floor as he pressed forward to garnish the secretive protection of the shop. As he lifted himself apologetically to his feet after having received a clear view of Miranda’s beautifully frilly panties under her micro skirt, he turned as Auntie Beverly introduced him to Miranda.

“This is John, or rather Joanna and she’s a new pupil for Mistress Janet’s.”

Miranda’s eyes widened appreciatively and she reached out to pull John to her deliciously soft lips.

“Why darling, you’re just delicious! You’re such a handsome boy. It seems such a waste but you are what’s between your ears after all and if you feel this way then so be it.. So you really want to be a sissy?”

Joanna smiled nervously and nodded then stood there frozen, unsure of what to do next. Miranda recognised Joanna’s uncertainty so she grasped her shoulder gently and propelled her deeper into the shop. Miss Stern was busy checking some new stock behind the counter by the till when Miranda introduced Joanna to her. She looked at Joanna and nodded approvingly before stepping out from behind the counter and greeting Auntie Beverly whilst she instructed Miranda to take Joanna’s measurements. Miranda grinned contentedly then invited Victoria to join her in the dressing room where they would measure Joanna’s most intimate details. In the dressing room, Miranda easily removed Joanna’s wet cape and clucked disapprovingly as she recognised Victoria’s name on the worn out name tag.

“Why is she wearing one of your old capes Vicky?”

“It’s an emergency; it’s all a bit short notice.”

Miranda frowned then faced Joanna as she started to unbutton the front of her frock.

“I hope you’re not wearing everything second hand young lady?”

“I, - I, - ehm, - no.” Murmured Joanna nervously. “Auntie Beverly took me shopping last week. My underwear’s new.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Clucked Miranda as she exposed Joana’s soft budding swellings.

“Oh these are pretty. How long have you been growing them?”

Joanna crimsoned with embarrassment for she had only just that previous week finally come to terms with the development on her chest. There was now no denying the presence of a delightful pair of ‘A’ cup buds where she once had had firm youthful pectorals. As the boy John, he had been a bit frightened at first but the delightfully ticklish sensations had so enamoured him to their development that now, he/she could hardly keep his/her hands off them.

John had realised that tits were just the best thing any young person could grow and since his visit to the lingerie shop with Auntie Beverly, John had been surreptitiously fingering his sensitive girly buds at every opportunity. Victoria’s silky frilly frock had added to the pleasures and John had finally become firmly convinced that a sissy’s life was the life for him, especially if the beautiful, sweet, gentle Janice was to be his mistress.

Now as the renamed Joanna, she had been so pre-occupied with thoughts about her tits that she had failed to realise that she was now totally naked before Miranda and Victoria. For a brief moment she tried to cover her sensitive little tits but at the same moment she squirmed as Miranda took hold of her cock and fondled it while she and Victoria examined it. Then Miranda looked up.

“Are you going to keep this?”

“Yes!” Joanna nodded furiously and Miranda grinned appreciatively.

“Oh Good! It’s a rather nice one, quite long, very little hair and very velvety. The mistresses will be pleased with you and all the other clitty sissies will be over the moon.”

“Clitty sissies,” asked Joanna uncertainly.

Victoria smiled as she looked up.

“Yes darling, clitty sissies, that’s sissies like your ex brother Davinia and the two naughty girls, Nancy and Delilah. I’m sure you’ve seen your brother’s clitty haven’t you?”

Joanna nodded. When she had finally gained a glimpse of her younger brother Davinia’s new arrangements inside her panties, Joanna had been surprised and slightly pleased. Davinia was now virtually a girl down there except that she didn’t have any vaginal opening to allow penetration. Joanna had only been reassured after Davinia had confirmed that her new `sissy clitty’ was every bit as sensitive and responsive as her old prick. Davinia explained eagerly, (somewhat too eagerly,) concluded Joanna.

“It gives me just as much pleasure if I rub it and I still get things called `sissygasms’,” giggled Joanna’s `bimboised’ younger brother/sister.

Now Joanna was staring down nervously at Victoria and Miranda as they gently examined her velvety sensitive cock. Miranda demonstrated that she still remembered how to make a boy horny and within seconds, Joanna was sporting a ferociously hard erection. With her duty completed, Miranda called to Miss Stern and Auntie Beverly.

“She’s ready, Miss Stern. You can fix her now.”

Joanna panicked for a moment and squealed as she anticipated some awful medical procedure to castrate her but Miss Stern soon calmed her down as though she was soothing a skittish foal. She captured Joanna’s fearful gaze and approached her with soothing words.

“Don’t be frightened darling; I’m only measuring you for your cock tube. If you’re going to be an entire sissy with the ability to please all mistresses and sissies, you have to have special corsets. We can’t have those beautiful boy bits crushed or made inoperable by destructive compression, can we?”

“No,” gulped the still frightened Joanna.

“Exactly darling now just let me get your measurements. Corsets are very tight, so we have to get the allowances for your boy bits exactly right.”

Before Joanna could react any further, Miss Stern had knelt down and produced her tape measure and a special measuring ring. Miranda watched closely and even copied Miss Stern as she went through the unusual procedure. Miss Stern produced a pair of golden callipers and proceeded to determine the size of Joanna’s testicles. She and Miranda quickly established Joanna’s `boy dimensions’ Miss Stern hummed away as she agreed her figures with Miranda then she noted them down on the card that Miranda had been holding. Eventually, Mistress Stern had completed the specialist measurements and she handed the card and tape back to Miranda as she reassured Joanna by explaining.

“Miranda’s not fully trained yet darling, so I have to do your penis and testicular measurements. That’s all for now darling, Miranda can finish your other measurements.”

Surprisingly, Miss Stern bent down and gently kissed Joanna on the forehead before handing her back to Miranda. Joanna eventually calmed down as Miranda completed taking her measurements as she measured Joanna’s inside leg. As she slipped the card into the top pocket of her blouse, Miranda’s face was exactly level with Joanna’s enduring erection.
She looked up, smiled then offered to suck the delectable erection.

“But I’d prefer Mistress Janice to suck it,” protested Joanna hopefully.

“Gosh you’ve got a lot to learn young lady,” chuckled Miranda, “sissies don’t get to choose a mistress to pleasure their desires. A sissy would only ever have a mistress suck her cock if the mistress chose to. You my precious darling have a lot to learn.
Now do you want this sissy to help you ease your erection or do you want to be stuck like this with your erection sticking out until somebody relieves your tension?”

“What d’you mean, stuck like this?” Gasped Joanna.

“Oh dear, I can see that you haven’t had everything explained have you?”

“No,” croaked Joanna nervously as the lump in her throat stole her voice.

Miranda gently broke the news to Joanna between delicate licks of Joanna’s penis.

“It’s like this my dearest little sissy. Have you noticed that you haven’t been having so many erections lately?”

Joanna fell silent as she considered this revelation, then a lump settled in her tummy as she realised Miranda was right. Normally as a healthy teenaged boy, John had been having frequent erections that came and went almost every hour. He had been a virtual walking gland. Now, as Joanna, she noticed that her erections were less frequent, -but more prolonged, - and more exciting! As Joanna’s silence confirmed Miranda’s words Miranda continued.

“Don’t worry darling, as an entire’ sissy you will always get erections, but you will notice that you need some sort of trigger circumstance to get you started, just like Victoria and I started you off just now. However, once you’ve got an erection, you’ll find it very difficult to remove unless you achieve sexual relief by some means or other. As a sissy, you’ll find the two most common methods are firstly having intercourse with a mistress or another sissy. The second technique is to be sucked off by a mistress or a sissy friend. Now believe me it will almost invariably be a friendly sissy for a mistress is not usually inclined to suck her sissy off unless she has a particular predilection for it. If an entire sissy ever gets bought or chosen by such a mistress, she’s a very lucky sissy indeed.”

Miranda ended this last phrase to the tune of the ugly duckling and Joanna giggled shyly. She would never have imagined that Miranda would have had such a sense of humour. It also caused Joanna to relax and Miranda took her opportunity to gently slip Joanna’s beautiful erection into her greedy mouth. Poor Miranda was a clitty sissy and did not get much chance to swallow boy juice. She had a particular taste for sissy cum because Miss Stern kept her on a fairly tight rein. Additionally, Joanna was already on the road to sissydom because she had been enjoying my sissy milk now for several weeks. Her mental makeup was also being gradually sissified.

As Joanna smiled down at Miranda’s long silky hair, she felt a surge of affection and contentment for the pretty, cockless sissy now firmly attached to her cock. It was obvious that Miranda was starved of sissy love for she did not get out much except to get milked twice daily and that only gave her mild sissygasms. Having Joanna in to be measured was a priceless opportunity for Miranda and she was doubly grateful that Miss Stern indulged her. Miranda hadn’t seen a cock in nearly two years since leaving Mistress Janet’s academy for Miss Stern did not indulge in heterosexual sex. She was a full time lesbian and Miranda’s only function was to provide a tongue service to pleasure Miss Stern and her lady friends. Poor Miranda was sex starved for sissy sex and desperately grateful to Joanna for allowing her the wonderful privilege of drinking some real sissy juice. Eventually Joanna let out a low squeal of delight and started pumping lashings of sissy juice into Miranda’s desperately hungry mouth.

Desperation and pure hunger enable Miranda to catch every drop and she smiled when she looked down to see that there was no a single droplet on her uniform.

“Mmmm! That was just so nice. You’re juice is quite sweet you know. It’s not as salty as some. I suppose that’s because your a sissy, or rather, becoming a sissy.”

“What d’you mean, sweet?” Wondered Joanna.

“Sweet darling,” repeated Miranda, “you know, - as in sugar.”

“Why is other juice salty?”

“Why yes darling, well, - at least, - other men’s juice is salty. I’ve never tasted an entire sissy’s juices before, but yours is definitely sweet.”

“It must be like sissy milk then,” offered Joanna.

“There you go darling! Spot on! Maybe that’s why. I wish I could have some more.”

Joanna glanced nervously around for she did not want to invite any trouble. All the other girls and sissies were trying on new school uniforms and corsets but there was no knowing if Auntie Beverly, or Miss Stern or even Miss Portia might turn up at any minute. It might be pushing their luck to go for another shot. With that, almost as if Joanna had telepathed her fears, Miss Stern returned.

“Well everything sorted.”

Joanna nodded and smiled as Miranda courtesied and replied, “Yes Mistress.”

“Good. Then we’d better get your first corset run up. Entire sissies have to have special corsets as I’m sure you’ll understand, so Miranda and I will have to run one up while your Auntie takes you shopping for shoes.”

Joanna’s face paled but Miss Stern smiled again to reassure her.

“Don’t worry darling, we’ll set you up so that you pass as a girl. Now go with your Auntie Beverly while Miranda and I get to work.”

Still naked as a jaybird, Joanna had to cross the shop and endure the secretive glances of all her school chums both girls and sissies as they peeped curiously at her velvety pink sissy cock. Then Auntie Beverly and Miss Portia took pity on her and soon kitted her out. The most arduous part was having to wear a standard corset without the `cock-tube and boy-bag and this was certainly excruciating. Joanna groaned and nearly collapsed as the waist was drawn tight and the crotch crushed her precious jewels. Eventually, Auntie Beverly agreed with Miss Portia that they would have to slacken the ties. Poor Joanna was looking decidedly pale. Finally, after getting the equation about right, Joanna was dressed fit to pass and she left the shop giggling and tittering whilst feeling as free as any of the other sissies. Nobody but nobody would ever have read her for a boy!

In the shoe shop once again, Joanna found the shop girl peeping up her frilly skirt as she whispered.

“I see you’re wearing the uniform for Mistress Janet’s. Are you a sissy?”

Joanna nodded nervously and the `girl’ smiled as she parted her skirt to give Joanna a perfect view of her delectable frilly panties. By now Joanna had learned to recognise a pair of sissy panties by the excessive frills and she realised that this `girl’ was another sissy, just like Miranda. The girl smiled eagerly and revealed that she was Miranda’s milking partner.

The pair soon fell to trying on shoe after shoe as the girl savoured the silky smooth sheen of Joanna’s stockings and suspenders and the precious bulge under Joanna’s pink satin corset. By return, Joanna got an unlimited view of the sissy’s smooth inviting crotch framed by the plethora of pink frills. Occasionally, Joanna probed the flat girlish crotch with her silk clad toes and the girl gasped urgently.

“Oh I so wish I had Miranda’s job. I’ll bet you’ve just had sissy sex with her haven’t you?”

Joanna nodded shyly and confessed nervously.

“She just sucked me off. I didn’t think I’d like it but it’s strange. I liked it and I seem to be changing.”

The `shop-girl’ teared up enviously. The only sex she would see that day would be the sissy-milking she shared with Miranda.

After Auntie Beverly had checked out and approved Joanna’s new shoes the whole party visited a restaurant in the mall before returning to Miss Stern’s corset shop for Joanna’s special fitting. Nobody had ever seen an entire sissy being fitted out for one of Miss Stern’s corsets before and there was intense interest. When they arrived at the shop Miss Stern was already waiting for them and she waved them in eagerly.

“Well ladies, is everybody ready for the special fitting.”

Everybody nodded eagerly except Joanna who blanched when she realised that the fitting was going to be a most public affair.

“Do I have to do it in public? I mean it’s private isn’t it.”

“Not at all my darling,” countered Miss Stern., “all your companions will have to learn exactly how to fasten your corset so that your waist is properly trimmed whilst your boy jewels are not crushed. Come along darling, don’t be shy, this is a very special corset. We’ve even made it in pale blue satin to emphasise that you’re keeping your precious boy bits. However, you’ll notice your uniform frocks are green, signifying a voluntary sissy. Do you like that?”

Joanna had noticed that all the other sissies were in pink satin whilst the girls were invariably yellow or green. This gave her a crumb of comfort and she started to undress.

As she was finally released from her temporary pink standard corset she let out a sigh of relief and promptly adjusted her `boy-jewels’ as the numbness eased and feeling returned. Joanna realised she could never have worn a `normal corset’ for a whole day. Her boy bits would have bee destroyed through shortage of blood.

When Joanna stepped gratefully from the pink emasculator, Miranda appeared from the back room brandishing the special corset that included a simply gorgeous concoction of frills and stays that took Joanna’s breath away. She let out a squeal of delight then sighed contentedly as Miranda gently brushed the silky, satin corset across her cheek. A few weeks ago John would never have even looked twice at such a garment but Joanna’s feminised brain was utterly enchanted with Miranda’s creation. Even Miss Stern, who had left Miranda to her own devices after ascertaining the correct measurements, was astounded by the amount of pure frippery and laciness of the frills and bows. Miranda had gone overboard on feminine frills but Joanna was overwhelmed with delight. She squealed and gasped as Miranda helped her step into it and even giggled salaciously as Miranda invited Victoria to help thread Joanna’s pretty velvety boy jewels into the carefully prepared cock tube and ball bag. The delicate fiddling inevitably brought Joanna’s cock to a virulent erection but after her swollen cock was neatly threaded up the silky tube it seemed to disappear inside the corset. Victoria gasped at the magic disappearance and demanded to know how it had been done. Miranda explained as everybody crowded in to get a closer look.

"See how I’ve introduced some padding inside the corset so that Joanna’s tummy looks very slightly potbellied just like an older woman’s should."

The girls all agreed the adipose stomach deposit was a perfectly normal pad of fat to be found under every woman’s navel and it gave every woman that soft ripe curve the swept so softly and invitingly between their thighs. Every body knew that sissies tended to have slightly flatter stomachs because their boy genes did not normally encourage the tummy pad. This was even more obvious when they were wearing their corsets. Sissy’s tummies were considerably flatter than their mistresses. Now, by dint of imagination and design skill, Miranda had managed to create a sissy corset with a slightly padded tummy so that the cock tube ran undetected under the stayed tummy panel all the way to the sissy’s umbilical chord. Joanna now had the ripe curved shape of a girl whilst cunningly hiding her most precious asset invisibly inside her corset. Miranda’s creation had been a brilliant piece of camouflage. As Joanna’s waist was gradually reduced she squeaked and gasped under the pain but when asked how her boy bits felt, she had to confess they had never felt so comfortable. The secret cock tube allowed her cock to grow to it’s maximum dimensions whilst also being silky and satiny enough for Joanna to slip it out and tuck it backwards to allow her to pee comfortably sitting down. Joanna was overwhelmed with gratitude for she had been truly dreading the corset ordeal. Apart from the ordeal of the temporary corseting with one of Victoria’s cast-offs, Joanna had also seen the other sissy’s corsets. She had been terrified of somehow being emasculated by the cruel constrictions.

Now this brilliant hidden cock tube had enabled Miranda to bring Joanna’s waist down to the most impossible dimensions of sissydom whilst yet allowing her total comfort for her hidden cock. Yes Joanna found it almost impossible to breath and her breath came in little effeminate gasps but her cock was as comfortable as a chick in its nest.

When she finally got to see herself in the full mirror, Joanna burst into tears with delight as she primped and turned to admire her incredibly narrow waist offset by the ripe curve of her tummy. Then she made her first mistake. She tried to bend down and found she was hopelessly constrained by the body stays. Joanna was every bit as immobile as any of the other sissies were in their first year punishment corsets. She squealed as the stays bit cruelly into her ribs and waist.

“Oo-oow! Ouch! Damn! That hurt. I can’t bend! I’m stuck.”

“Don’t worry darling,” countered Miss Stern. It will only be for the first year until your body achieves the right shape. Your hormone pills and all the other medications will soon get you sissified, even though you do have such a delightful cock. Now I’m quite sure one of your sissy friends would love to run your stockings up your legs wouldn’t they.”

I stepped forward willingly and was almost knocked over by Davinia and Jemima as they lunged forward to assist. Miss Stern and Auntie Beverly smiled indulgently. Every body knew that we sissies wanted to run our fingers over Joanna’s special curved tummy panel just to see if we could feel her cock nestling in its silky, tunnelled groove. Eventually we all got to inspect the new corset and we all had to confess that Joanna’s tummy exactly resembled the ripe full curve of a healthy girl whilst she sported a perfect sissy waist. My sissy milk had done its job perfectly. Joanna was on her way to irreversible sissydom, albeit with a beautiful cock and balls. Reluctantly we left Miss Stern’s heavily loaded with our new school uniforms and corsets then we loaded the minibus with the mountain of shopping ready to return home.

Inevitable when Joanna tried to enter the minibus she fell about giggling with helplessness until we sissies showed her how to demurely slide her butt against the seat and delicately ease herself in backwards until her bum was securely located on the seat. Then she could modestly close her knees tightly together and lift her legs in as she swivelled demurely sideways onto the seat. It was a skill she would soon learn to perfect. Sissies were terribly vulnerable to unwanted attentions if they flashed their delicious undies manwards. Even after this lesson in modesty, poor Joanna felt the corset digging painfully into her waist and ribs as she tried tiny rapid breaths to ease her discomfort.

Eventually we arrived home and all of us were despatched to our various shared bedrooms to lay out our new school outfits and prepare for packing the following day.

For Joanna this was the most delightful part of becoming a sissy for my sissy milk had started to feminise her naturally sweet nature and boyish brain. As we opened our packages, Joanna simply sighed and simpered as she took out each item of silky, satiny lingerie and ran it over her cheeks before folding it or hanging it in the special `travelling wardrobe’ that Uncle Jamie had kindly provided for each one of us. It meant more luggage, but it also meant less ironing when one arrived at Mistress Janet’s. Besides, Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie would be there to help us with the heavier luggage.

I watched Joanna’s reactions and smiled indulgently as I busied myself with my own frillies.

`Yes, ` I thought, `sissydom was a nice condition for a boy provided she found the right mistress.’

The following morning after a scant breakfast for us sissies, we finished packing ready for our return to school. By ten we were on the road and we arrived at Mistress Janet’s academy for young ladies at mid afternoon. As our minibus crunched up the gravel drive Joanna adjusted her corset for the umpteenth time, stared out at the imposing brickwork and smiled nervously to me.

“It’s a big place. Is that all of it?”

“That’s just the front Facade. It’s one side of a quadrangle.”

“Heck! It’s a big change from a vardo.” She sighed.

“That’s the truth,” I agreed, “but you’ll only get to be involved with your part of it. Different years tend to stay in their own blocks except for meal times, and milking.”

“Will I get to be a milker?” She whispered uncertainly.

I nodded and smiled softly. Joanna had already made it abundantly obvious that she was a little envious of Janice and me.

“Do you want to?” I whispered back.

Joanna nodded vigorously and I was secretly relieved. For a moment I thought she was having second thoughts.

“Good!” I gasped with relief. “Come on. We’re here. Everybody out!”

As we scrunched to a halt one of the teachers accompanied by a prefect whom I immediately recognised as Victoria, was already approaching our minibus. The school was well organised. They knew we were a large party with lots of luggage. Victoria smiled at us as she recognised everybody and introduced us to the new young maths teacher.

“Hello everybody, this is Miss Hoolihan, our new maths teacher.”

Miss Hoolihan smiled and most of the older girls immediately recognised the nervous uncertainty of a newly graduated teacher on her first ever assignment. However she was a very attractive young lady and her beautiful smile immediately endeared her to us. Victoria smiled back with relief. She had assessed our group correctly. There were no trouble makers and the poor young teacher was not going to get a rough ride. Fortunately, Auntie Jamie’s foresight about the luggage ensured that it was a simple job for even the feeblest sissy to lift our cases onto the trailer. All our cases were small and light `lady-cases’ therefore easily managed.

At the stairs, Joanna showed her `newness’ to the training corset and she struggled `girlfully’ as she slowly trudged up and down the stairs to her dormitory.

“Gosh!” She panted. “These corsets stop me breathing!”

“You’ll get used to it,” smiled Victoria, “look at Davinia and Michelle. They’re managing perfectly. Once your waist is sissified, you’ll find it easy. Though gradually you’ll find the cases seem to get heavier as your sissy muscles atrophy. Don’t worry my little beauty; you’re a good sissy and a volunteer, so you’ll find it fairly easy. You’re too old for the junior school so you’ll be sharing your class with Janice and Michelle. Your development will quickly catch up with and match theirs. The good doctor will put you on a special regime for late developing boy sissies. I’m told you’re also down for larynx surgery to sissify your voice.

Are you looking forward to having breasts like Michelle’s?”

Joanna glanced at me and I sensed a certain envy in her eyes. It was at that moment that I realised that Joanna really was a sissy and not just doing it for Janice. This was serendipity. I smiled back and Joanna then replied to Victoria with a certainty born of her natural predilection to sissydom.

“Yes. I’d love to. How long will it take?”

“Oh I don’t know. You’ll have to see Doctor Williams. You’ll be seeing her tomorrow morning; you’ve got a special appointment because of the lateness of your conversion plus the surgery on your voice-box.”

With these words we reached the landing half a flight of stairs ahead of the struggling Joanna. , Victoria left us to attend to some more arrivals and Joanna rested on some steps below us as Victoria pointed out her room next to Janice and mine.
Davinia looked enviously down the stairs to her older sissified brother and pouted.

“Those rooms are for senior girls not sissies! Why have you got a single room instead of one of the multiple dormitory beds?”

“Because he’s an entire sissy young lady. Do you have any objections?”

Davinia froze in terror as Janice and I span around to face the familiar voice of Head-mistress Janet. As we all adopted respectful stances Joanna innocently continued struggling up the stairs with her case stopping to catch her breath on every step. When she finally joined us on the landing it was several seconds before she sensed the tension. As the deafening silence settled upon us, Joanna finally realised we were in the presence of somebody important. She stopped as this realisation gradually dawned upon her and she finally adopted a respectful demeanour. Mistress Janet ignored Joanna and repeated her question to the petrified Davinia.

“Well, young lady? Do you? Do you have any objections?”

Terror almost paralysed Davinia’s voice as she managed to croak out, “No Ma-am.”

“Good. Now young lady,” continued Mistress Janet as she turned to Joanna, “so you’re the new girl. The entire sissy, the one with a penis!”

Joanna crimsoned with embarrassment at such forthrightness before she replied.

“Yes Miss,” she said, completely unaware of the school conventions.

“You address me as Ma-am, young lady! Do you understand that?”

“Yes Mi, - I mean Ma-am.”

“Good. Don’t you forget it! Now I want you in my office at six thirty prior to dinner at seven. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma-am,” replied Joanna, “where is it?”

“Have your friends show you. They can wait outside while I interview you, then they can show you to the dining hall.”

With these words we all chorused `Yes Ma-am’ as she span on her heel and left as quickly as she had appeared.

“Gosh, you’ve been singled out already,” remarked Janice as we finally reached our new rooms.

“Up before the beak already,” I giggled, “and not even in the school but a few minutes.”

“What do you think it’s about?” Wondered Joanna as she opened the door to her room and peeped inside.

“Having a cock, I shouldn’t wonder,” Janice replied.

“I think that’s a given, Sis,” I chuckled as I started to sort through our first pile of luggage.

“No leave this here, let’s go and get the rest of our stuff. Simone, Isobel and Sally will be wondering what’s happened to us.”

“Give me a break,” pleaded Joanna, “my back and waist are crucifying me. It’s OK for you, you’re used to corsets.”

I nodded sympathetically. In my first year I had gone through exactly what poor Joanna was suffering now. Davinia also nodded agreement. She had fresher memories of her first corsets and the dormitory stairs.

“OK then,” I suggested, “Joanna, you wait here and guard our stuff. We’ll go and get the rest. Come on Davinia, we’ll help you with your stuff when we’ve got everything up as far as this landing.”

Davinia could see the sense in this and willingly left her stuff outside our rooms for the gasping Joanna to guard as we returned to collect more luggage. Thus by a series planned stages, we collected all our stuff and shared the burden equally. Once we were settled in, we all met in Janice and my room where we planned a tour of the school and renewing old acquaintances.

“Don’t forget,” cautioned Janice, “Joanna must be outside Mistress Janet’s study.”

“Who could forget that?” Sighed Davinia who had several times fallen foul of Mistress Janet’s firm discipline before finally converting to sweet, compliant sissydom.

Thus with a couple of hours to spare, we set out around the school, renewing old acquaintances until milking time.

At four thirty we presented ourselves at the dairy block and Joanna and her younger gypsy sisters had to wait impatiently outside while Janice and I were milked. This was still a delightfully intimate time for me and my sister and I eagerly seized upon these opportunities to seek reassurance from Janice that she would never forget me. Once again I expressed my fears that she might forsake me altogether once she had sissy Joanna firmly in her clutches.

“Never darling. How could I ever forsake the beautiful brother who helped me so much when mummy and daddy died? Without you I would have been alone in the world.”

“Well that’s mutual sis,” I replied, “we were both orphans, you did the same for me.”

We fell to reflecting on the path we had followed and concluded that we were bound inextricably together whatever befell us. Then Janice asked me about Joanna’s sister Simone and chatted about the possibly of she and I getting together.

“She likes you, you know,” declared Janice.

“But it’s more than just liking me isn’t it? She would have to love me dearly to take me to her what with my being a sissy and everything else. What about my cockette? What if she likes a proper cock?”

“She knows about your cockette darling. Davinia’s told her all about that.”

“What, everything; including the fact it is little more than a one inch clitty tickler. She knows I will never be able to properly shag her.”

“Simone’s not much into being penetrated deeply.”

“How do you know that?” I frowned.

“We girls talk. Simone’s family are gypsies don’t forget. They intermarry a lot to perpetuate their travelling ways.
Simone’s not entirely heterosexual. She’s more bisexual and the other part of her is essentially `lipstick lesbian.’ She doesn’t like the big butch thing. Have you seen her dance?”

“No,” I replied, “she spent all her time at the camp party playing the violin.”

“Yes, the party never got into full swing because her dad was attacked and we had to finish up early. If her dad had come home, he would have taken over the violin and Simone would have shown you all how good she is. She’s much better than Joanna, and Joanna’s bloody good! Simone can bend like an acrobat and she’s as fluid as a cat.

Apparently she would set the world of ballet on fire if she ever took it up seriously. She’s shown me her steps in our bedroom. Honestly Michelle, she’s fabulous."

I twitched with delight at that thought of sharing my life with a mistress as flexible and beautiful as Simone but quickly came back to my senses. It was all very well for a sissy to have a mistress that was compatible and sexually exotic but after a childhood spent with sweet gentle Janice, I was something of a spoiled child. I wanted a mistress that loved me and cared for me as well. Janice sensed my thoughts and whispered as we started to share a sissygasm.

“If you try hard enough and show Simone lots of attention, I’m sure she’ll fall for you. You’re very attractive you know and she loves the feminine types.”

I swallowed nervously. Janice was right, `feint sissy ne’er won fair mistress.’ I resolved to be extra attentive and affectionate. Janice handed me one more bit of vital advice.

“Simone’s not stupid, don’t go with the simpering bimbo thing, she won’t thank you for it. Be thoughtful, attentive, and affectionate and try to be interesting and funny. Making a girl laugh always helps.”

“Gosh, you’re not asking much are you?”

“She’s worth it Michelle,” countered Janice, “besides, I’d love her for a sister in law and we would all be living at the farmhouse or even the big house after Earl Weston dies.”

“Gosh! That would be lovely,” I sighed, “it would mean we would be together all the time.”

“Like one big clan again. I’m sure all the gypsy children would love that. The thought of living together and having the run of the woods would enthral them.”

With this fantasy overtaking us our bodies then overtook our fantasies and we ascended into a delightful sissygasm as waves of pleasure rippled up and down our tummies.

This signified that our tits were empty and we reluctantly disconnected ourselves as we stepped into the shower to wash down. Mutual sissygasms created a lot of heat, sweat and other more intimate fluids besides a couple of litres of milk. By now, Janice had taken to inserting a `femidom’ because my cockette was too small to properly attach a condom and guarantee a safe seal. But
if my brotherly semen leaked out, it could easily invade Janice’s secret places and produce an illegal incestuous child. That was the last thing anybody wanted. Pleasuring each other was OK in our eyes, but getting my sister pregnant was a big no-no.

Fortunately I could not indulge in deep penetrative sex for my cockette was too small.

After Milking we rejoined Joanna and Simone and showed them around more of the school until it was time for Joanna to meet Mistress Janet.

“D’you think I’m in trouble or something?” Wondered Joanna nervously.

“How can you be? Declared Janice, “you’ve only been here a few hours and you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s got to be about your cock. I’ll bet it’s all about your cock.”

“Why?” Wondered Joanna innocently.

“Oh, you’ll learn soon enough. Come on Joanna, you’re the only sissy in the school who is going to keep her cock! What d’you think she wants to talk to you about? This is a school for sissies darling. Just wait and see.”

At precisely six twenty nine, Joanna knocked softly on the headmistresses’ door and waited.
“Come in!” Said a voice we all recognised.

Joanna had not yet learned to fear mistresses so she strode in boldly but courteously and waited demurely in front of Mistress Janet’s vast desk. Auntie Beverly and her Mother Morag were already seated and it was obvious they had been talking. Morag smiled indulgently towards her sissified son.

Morag’s view had simply been that, as a sissy, her gypsy son would be less likely ever to suffer the violence and privations that had attended upon Joanna’s father William, who was now lying at home recuperating in a comfortable bed. He had suffered some slight brain damage but at least he was up to simple manual tasks that would enable him to fulfil a caretaker’s duties around the estate.

Morag only wanted happiness for her children and less risk attached to their new lives. Forsaking the travelling ways had been painful but reassuring, now that her children would be educated to a high academic level even if her boys were sissified. Sissification had certainly ensured that her once violent and dangerous younger son David, (now Davinia,) would never get himself into any violent trouble for he had become a sweet compliant sissy maid. Conversely, Morag could see that her older son was a naturally sweet, gentle boy who obviously took to sissydom like a duck to water. Morag was happy that her sons were at Mistress Janet’s academy and she smiled reassuringly at her sissified son Joanna as Joanna waited expectantly.

“Good afternoon Joanna.” Smiled Mistress Janet with an affection that belied the steel that lay below the surface.

“Good afternoon Ma-am.” Whispered Joanna, as she remembered to be respectful but not servile.

“Well, young lady. Your mother, aunt and I have had a long chat and discussed many things. I can now put you in the picture firmly.

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Because your family expect a son to be fathered by you, you are to keep all your masculine organs, is that understood?”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Good. Now there are going to be certain special rules that you will have to abide by, do you understand?”

“Not quite Ma-am.”

“Exactly, I didn’t expect you to. I like your innocence, it’s nice to find a sissy who came to her condition late but enjoys your degree of innocence so I will explain.”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Having a cock make’s you a target for every other sissy in this school except Angela in the upper sixth. She is entire as well so I will introduce you to her after breakfast tomorrow. She will be able to take you under her wing for the first term to help you recognise the snares and traps that all the other sissies will try and set to entice you into their beds. My normal sissies are inevitably enchanted by entire sissies because of their potential to bring them extra pleasures. This it utterly forbidden but you will find the temptations almost impossible to resist. Angela will show you how she circumvents these temptations.

Furthermore, there are some girls in this school who are `man-haters’ and the thought of a sissy having a fully functioning penis is anathema to them. They might also set a trap for you in the hope of somehow disabling your ability to function like a man. We will obviously protect you but we can’t watch you all the time. Angela will provide additional protection but like all my sissies, she is not a strong sissy, just an entire one. She will serve mainly as an extra pair of eyes when you are having your free time to point out the less desirable company who might try to hurt you. However, she will be leaving next year and after that you will be on your own in this school, although I’m glad to see that you already have a close circle of friends. Miss Beverly’s nephew and niece I believe, Michelle and Janice.”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Good. They are a dependable pair so you should fare well. If you find that it is difficult to avoid unwanted attentions, the school has other means to protect your boy parts, namely chastity devices that prevent access to your penis and testicles. However, that is only as a last resort if you find life has become intolerable. I honestly don’t think it will come to that. Angela has never had to resort to it. Now are there any questions?”

“Not yet Ma-am.” Replied Joanna, reassured by the brevity of the interview.

“Good. If you do have questions or problems then come directly to me. Don’t go to the mistresses or any older pupils. You’re something of a special pupil, just like Angela is, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Very well. Go and have your dinner.”

“Thank you Ma-am.”

“That’s all thank you.”

Joanna met her mother’s smile so before she left she stepped across and gave her mother a hug, then hugged Auntie Beverly. Mistress Janet looked slightly askance then smiled as Joanna left.

“She’s a very affectionate son isn’t she?”

Morag nodded and smiled contentedly.

“He’ll do. I’m happier that she’s here rather than fighting for an existence out there on the street.”

“Quite,” agreed Mistress Janet, “you won’t be disappointed with her when she’s graduated.”

Thus the meeting ended and Beverly and Morag accompanied the headmistress into the dining hall.

While we gathered at a table of choice, Janice and I explained to Simone, Joanna, Isobel and Sally that they would be allotted permanent table places the following day when the school organisation really began to get into gear. I was agreeably surprised to meet Julia as she arrived slightly late after travelling back from France. She had been holidaying with transvestite friends and thoroughly enjoying her time in Paris. After Introductions all around, Julia regaled us with tales of the Moulin Rouge and a thousand other exotic places where she had indulged her sissydom.

“I tell you Michelle, Paris is absolutely the business. You’d love it there. Everything is just so laid back. My mummy-mistress took me around all the clubs and I was treated regally. Especially when they discovered I was a milker. Darling the number of people who wanted to taste sissy-milk was just unbelievable. Mistress-mummy was sorely tempted to hire me out and indeed, she did occasionally indulge her closest friends.

“How did you manage as a super milker, darling?” wondered Janice.

“Mummy-mistress took a portable machine over in the car. It’s far less hassle than declaring the darn things at the airport.”

“What’s a super milker?” Asked Joanna.

Julia smiled and explained to the gypsy children who gaped unbelievingly.

“I have to be milked three times a day, morning noon and evening.”

“Gosh! How do you find time for study and stuff?” Gasped Simone.

“Oh it’s not that hard. I enjoy languages and learn really quickly. I was only in Paris for eight weeks and already I’m pretty fluent.”

“You always had a gift for languages though,” I observed enviously.

“Yeah but you’re much better at science and maths,” countered Julia.

With these words, Davinia arrived with the puddings and we picked delicately at the carefully controlled portions. Nobody at Mistress Janet’s academy got fat. Davinia settled beside us and introductions were resumed. Julia beamed with pleasure when she learned that the five were all brothers and sisters. She asked politely about travelling ways and the children explained as much as they thought advisable. Julia was stunned and delighted to learn that we now all lived on the estate.

“It must be like a sort of sissy commune!” She sighed enviously.

“With no mistresses, yet,” I added for good measure.

“Crikey, what bliss. Can I come and stay for the Christmas Hols?”

Janice tantalised her with a ‘half — invitation’.

“I suppose you could, if our mummies agree to it.”

“Oh! Pleee-eease!” Begged Julia.

I put her out of her misery and smiled.

“I suppose you can. Heaven knows, there’s room enough for a flipping army up at the big house.”

“But that’s not our house, It’s Auntie Jamie’s” protested Janice.

I fell silent. Janice had obviously not overheard what I had overheard one evening up at the big house as Auntie Beverly, Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie had chatted in the living room in front of the huge log fire.

My silence was taken as a cue to leave the dining hall and we decamped to Janice and my large corner bedroom. As we minced across the quadrangle, Victoria appeared and cautioned us.

“Go to bed early now; you’ve all got early starts.”

We grinned knowingly. Now that Sophia had left school and gone to University, Victoria was head girl and only exercising her new-found authority. She had warned us, because she knew us and that familiarity gave her some confidence. None of us would have dared incur the wrath of our families back home by making Victoria’s job more difficult.

We visibly increased our pace until Joanna begged us to stop. Her corset was still restricting her breathing and it would be several months before poor Joanna’s youthful boyish body had altered it’s shape to the tiny-waisted curvaceous promise of a sissy. Victoria smiled as she watched Joanna fall behind so she decided to go and speak to Joanna.

“Are you the new girl with the cock?”

Joanna gulped and nodded as she tried to increase her pace.

“Well you’d better not rush then. You might harm yourself or something. Come, let those minxes walk ahead, I’ll walk with you.”

Joanna swallowed again. Mistress Janet’s warnings about honey traps and predatory girls were ringing alarm bells in her tormented brain. Thus alarmed, poor Joanna started mincing furiously to catch the rest of us up and she arrived at the bottom of the dormitory stairs almost crying with despair.

“Wait! Wait for me-ee!”

Julia, ever the considerate and more senior girl, stood back and offered poor Joanna a helping hand to mount the stairs.

“Th, - tha, - thanks Julie,” gasped Joanna as she finally gained the sanctuary of our bedroom. Tears of terror were filling her eyes as she collapsed onto my and Janice’s bed.

We looked up and wondered, for it had been so uncharacteristic of Victoria. Then Janice looked down through the window into the quadrangle and watched Victoria creased up with laughter. It had all been a big tease, a trick on a new pupil but it had really terrified the new girl Joanna. Despite now being sixteen she had fallen for the simplest trick of all. Janice gave Victoria a wave as she turned from the window grinning at the rest of us. Eventually as the laughter subsided, Janice explained softly to Joanna.

“She was teasing you Joanna. Victoria would never stoop to abusing a new pupil. She’s not like that. Some are though, so watch out. That cock of yours will attract sissies to you like wasps to jam.”

Joanna let out a wail of relief then finally started to chuckle as she realised the joke was on her.

“I’ll get her back! You just watch me. I’ll get her back!”

“You’ll be hard put to do so,” warned Julia. “Victoria is head girl, she’s bigger than you, she’ll always be stronger than you and she’s soon to become a sissy-mistress. How do you intend to do it?”

“I’ve got a cock haven’t I?” Giggled Joanna conspiratorially.

A deafening silence settled momentarily then Julia spoke softly.

“That would be very dangerous territory to enter here at Mistress Janet’s. Anyway in a few months that thought will never enter your head again.”

“What d’you mean? Asked Joanna,”

“Have you met Angela yet?” Continued Julia

“What the other sissy with a cock?”

“The very same,” replied Julia.

“No. I’m being introduced to her tomorrow. She’s going to be my mentor until she leaves next year.”

“Well we can all wait and see. After you’ve met Angela, we’ll see whether you think having a cock is such a big thing.”

Joanna paled slightly as Julia’s words sank in.

“What d’you mean? What happens?”

“Just speak to Angela. You’ll find out.”

“No. Tell me! Tell me! What happens? Do they do something to my cock?”

“I don’t know, but when you meet Angela, you’ll be surprised.”

At this Janice chipped in.

“They can’t do anything to your cock Joanna. That was the deal when you became a sissy. Your mummy and my Auntie Beverly wouldn’t renege on a deal.”

Joanna calmed down and furtively felt for her delicious organ buried away under the front of her special corset. It responded obediently as it stiffened in the silky tube and this seemed to calm her. After another pregnant silence Davinia offered to make some cocoa and the conversation moved on. Eventually, we drifted off to our various beds as we realised the school regime would kick in for sure the following day and we would all be regimented by the clock. The first thing of course being early showers followed by milking.

This chapter deals with Joanna's voluntary sissification and the addresses efforts to get Auntie Beverly with child to legitimise Jamie's children's succession.

MMMiaoww. That tasted good!

21 Sissy Farm

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John (Joanna) and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.
Author’s Note for my US Sisters. A Vardo is an old, highly decorated, horse drawn gypsy caravan.

Chapter 21.

Morning of the first proper day of school broke grey and wet. September in Britain herald’s the onset of autumn when the long warm summer showers are finally over. The basic difference in Britain between Summer and Autumn is that the rain gets cooler and the skies turn from puffy clouds with frequent showers to long grey sunless days with the constant drizzle that signals Autumn. Janice and I separated from each other’s warm embrace and listened to the clatter of rain hammering against our window.

“Capes and booties for milking I think,” observed Janice as we both frowned at the weather.

“Come on, let’s get to the showers early, I’ll check on Joanna.” I slipped out onto the landing and knocked softly on Joanna’s door. She whispered back immediately.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Michelle, and sissies don’t ask who it is, they answer the door immediately just as they would do when they are housekeeping for their mistresses.”

The door immediately opened and Joanna appeared in her sleeping corset. I grinned and invited her into our bedroom as I explained.

“If you want an early shower, you’d best get your corset off and that means somebody unlacing you. How do you go to pee at night?”

“I just ease my cock down the tube and bend it backwards. Provided I don’t kink her too tight, the pee comes out easily. It’s easy.”

I remembered back to when my cock just pointed and peed and I felt slightly envious of Joanna. Cocks were certainly handy when it came to peeing.

“You’re lucky keeping that for peeing,” agreed Janice as we formed a daisy chain to unlace our corsets.

Within seconds we were naked and Janice’s eyes couldn’t help wandering down to Joanna’s beautiful velvety erection.

“That’s a delicious cock my darling. I can’t wait until your all mine.”

Joanna blushed deep red and quickly wrapped her nightdress around her before crossing the landing to the showers. We were surprised to find a new senior girl as our dormitory prefect for we had expected Victoria.

“I’m Monica ladies, and I’m your dormitory prefect,” she introduced herself before explaining, “Victoria’s head girl now so she doesn’t do dormitory duties and stuff. She has her own study in the main block. You’re up early aren’t you?”

“We’ve always been early riser’s mistress,” I replied, “Joanna and I need privacy.”

“Yes I know about Joanna’s cock and your cockette. The Headmistress explained all about it. You’re quite right. You’d best get showered early, wouldn’t want the other sissies getting all excited would we?”

We took Monica’s cue and put on our shower caps before slipping into the showers. Monica switched them on then joined us. She explained.

“I’m an early riser too. That’s why Headmistress Janet chose me to be your dormitory prefect. We should be all finished here before I have to rouse the other pupils.”

I smiled gratefully. I was beginning to warm to Monica. She seemed a decent girl. The idea of having our own private showering session before the hordes arrived seemed excellent. However my feelings were short lived. As soon as we were luxuriating under the hot showers Monica’s true colours emerged. She slipped in through the dense steam and quickly brushed up against Joanna.

“Mmm-mm. That is a delicious cock isn’t it sweetie, she murmured.”

“Eeek!” Squeaked Joanna, as Monica’s fingers slipped inquisitively down to Joanna’s erection.

“Stoppit!” She pleaded submissively as Monica’s fingers reached around to feel the full length and girth.

“It’s big isn’t it,” croaked Monica huskily as her excitement mounted.

“Please! Stoppit!” Cried Joanna nervously. I’m not allowed to use it. Mistress Janet said, -“

“Oh bugger Mistress Janet. She’s not even up yet. Let me see it!”

Joanna tried to resist but she was shocked to realise that Monica was stronger than her. This came as a revelation to me as well. Joanna had only been undergoing sissification for a couple of months and already her once youthful male body had become enfeebled to the point were an average girl could overpower her. Joanna let out a defeated whimper and succumbed to Monica’s demands. As Monica savoured her victory she stroked Joanna’s beautifully silky cockflesh and explained.

“I’ve got no brothers and my dad left when I was small. This is the first proper cock I’ve ever seen, and held,” she added as she gently brought her lips to Joanna’s velvety purple glans.

Joanna let out a soft mewling sound as she tried to resist `humping’ Monica’s mouth but Monica was too engrossed in the novelty of having an obedient young cock under her total control. Janice and I could do little but stare in fearful fascination as Monica gently introduced Joanna’s cock into her mouth.

“Mmm!” Muffled Monica,” Thith ith delithus!”

“Don’t bite it,” I suggested fearfully, for I knew just how sensitive a cock was. My cockette had all the feelings and sensations of a proper cock despite being only a couple of inches long. (For some strange reason, it had grown slightly in the summer holidays. I did not know that Auntie Beverly had secretly arranged to have my hormone regime altered. My cock was now growing slowly but I had no idea why...)

“Mmmm.” Sighed Monica contentedly, “I woofn’t bi’ thith. It’th boo-ifuth!”

So saying she proceeded to suck greedily on Joanna’s cock until poor Joanna started to explode. Since starting out on the road to sissydom, poor Joanna had not had more than a couple of orgasms and her youthful libido was ringing like a bell with pent up sexuality.

Now all the pent up sissy juice in her balls seized their opportunity. Joanna’s juice started to spurt furiously and Monica let out a squeal of shocked excitement as she released the cock from her lips after the first couple of jisms.

“Shit! It’s alive. It’s like a bloody spitting cobra!”

She stared in stunned amazement as Joanna’s sissy juice splattered against her cheek then she ducked as the juice continued jetting right across the shower and splashed against the far wall.

“Shit! How does it do that?” She squealed.

Janice and I stared stupidly at each other as we realised the extent of Monica’s ignorance. We both wondered where she had been during all the personal health and hygiene lessons that our academy specialised in for all its pupils. Monica must have been absent for half of the second year (year 8) to have missed all that. We were so surprised at the apparent extent of Monica’s naivety that we were reluctant to explain. Monica might be offended if junior girls demonstrated a knowledge of human biology more extensive than hers. Fortunately, Joanna provided a lifeline as she recovered her composure then stared stupidly at Monica.

“Wha, - what d’you mean, `how does it do that?’ That’s what cocks do!”

“But it shot across the shower!” Squealed Monica.

“Yeah; and?” Replied a puzzled Joanna. “Haven’t you ever seen a cock come before?”

Monica fell silent as she wagged her head and turned to look at Janice and me. It was obvious from her uncomprehending embarrassment that Monica hadn’t. A senior prefect at Mistress Janet’s Academy had actually never seen a proper, full sized, sissy cock ejaculate. Monica realised that she given herself away by her surprised reactions. She tried to hide her embarrassment but only dug herself into a deeper hole.

“I haven’t got any brothers or a father.”

“Everybody has a father,” chuckled Joanna who was not yet quite as deferential to the senior girls as Janice and I. Joanna still had a lot to learn but it was refreshing to hear her openness.

“I don’t mean like that stupid!” Monica snapped. “You know exactly what I mean!”

Joanna realised she might have overstepped a line. Monica was obviously extremely sensitive about her ignorance and her parentage. Joanna pulled back a little surprised.

“Ok. OK. I was only joking.”

“Yeah! Well watch it gypsy girl! Your own pedigree is not much to crow about.”

I could see Joanna getting upset by this seemingly racist remark so I stepped in tactfully to defuse the situation.

“Come on. We’d better clean up this mess.”

So saying I took one of the shower telephone nozzles, adjusted the temperature and jet to blast the sticky evidence off the tiles. Monica realised she still had come juice all over her face and she quickly grabbed another shower nozzle to wash herself down. Janice recognised my peacemaking ploy so she stepped forward and took the nozzle from Monica as she offered to clean the stains in her hair. (In her surprised response to Joanna’s ejaculation, Monica’s shower cap had become dislodged.) This close ‘grooming’ enabled Janice to break some of the ice that had formed between Monica and Joanna.

She spoke softly to prevent Joanna or me overhearing but Janice told me later as we dressed for classes, what had transpired.

“It’s true, Monica is a total innocent. She was away in America for a year because of a custody battle between her mum and dad. Her mum won easily but Monica hates her dad because she feels he betrayed her by leaving mum when Monica was a babe-in-arms. The custody battle was during her second year at this academy when it’s all about health and hygiene. That’s why Monica hates boys and men and she only likes sissies.

She was just so curious about Joanna and her proper boy’s prick that she lost control.

Now she wants to know what it’s like to have a proper prick inside her.”

“Crickey!” I gasped, “Joanna’s only fifteen. Monica’s eighteen!”

“Age isn’t a problem. Monica’s naivety is the issue. There’s no knowing where this will end if Monica becomes addicted to cock. Joanna’s not supposed to indulge. This was one of the big no-no’s, that Mistress Janet had emphasised.”

I thought back to what Joanna had recalled from her interview and shuddered. If Monica forced Joanna to give her some cock, it would be poor Joanna that would be blamed if things became public. I decided to go and see Victoria. For all we knew, Monica might turn into a nymphomaniac.

Fortunately, Victoria was a shrewd operator and she finessed the problem superbly. She made it abundantly obvious that she had found out about the problem so she offered Monica an ultimatum.

“It’s as simple as this, Monica. We recognise that you’re a virgin but Joanna’s made a sworn promise to the headmistress about her cock. If you steal Joanna’s virginity, it will bring Joanna huge problems. At best she might end up being cock-locked for the whole year at worst she might have her cock sissified. You’ve seen the chastity belts in the sexology lab. Would you really want Joanna to have to endure one of those for a whole year?”

Monica wagged her head guiltily but Victoria was not a complete monster and she recognised that Monica obviously had certain needs as well. The following morning, Victoria arrived early and met us as we prepared to shower early again. Victoria laid out the scenario.

“I’ve spoken to Mistress Janet and she understands the problem. In the first instance she is placing the ball firmly in my `head-girl’s’ court. It’s to be a practice for me as well to learn my diplomatic skills. Now apparently, it’s extremely unusual for a senior prefect to be so inexperienced and virginal so she has granted Monica a single dispensation for this morning only. After all Monica will be leaving school next year and it would be very remiss of the academy to let loose such an inexperienced mistress on the sissy community. Therefore, for this one morning only, Joanna will be allowed to pleasure and penetrate Monica to what ever degree Monica desires. If, after this session, Monica wishes to explore the pleasures an entire sissy cock further, she must herself personally discuss it with the Headmistress.

Mistress Janet knows of Monica’s missing education during her middle school years while she was detained by her natural father in America until the court case and custody issues were resolved. The blame does not lie with Monica. To this end, Monica is to have carte blanche access to Joanna’s sissy cock for the rest of the morning. The headmistress suggested the pair of you use my study because it has its own en-suit shower.

“But what if she hurts me, whimpered Joanna.”

“That won’t happen you silly sissy, I’ll be supervising and your friends will be attending. Just think of this as your first sissy orgy. Really Joanna! You surprise me. Any other entire sissy would consider this her birthday and Christmas all rolled into one; a willing mistress and you with a virtually permanent erection. Now after showers, milking for Janice and Michelle and then breakfast, all of you repair to my room.

I’ll be meeting with Mistress Janet to get your class dispensations. Be there for nine fifteen."

Sure enough, our libidos’ found us waiting expectantly outside Victoria’s study and Victoria arrived promptly. Mistress Janet’s academy was a stickler for punctuality and we entered eagerly for even Victoria was anticipating the action.

Immediately as we entered, Joanna and I were handed sissy pills and we knew this meant action.

As sissies, Joanna and I were the first to be undressed until we stood there in our beautiful satin corsets waiting to be released. Victoria then released us while Janice and Monica attended to each other. Victoria was now almost a fully qualified mistress. She had passed all her exams with flying colours and had been rewarded by being made head girl.
I suppose it was to be expected really for Victoria was bright. Her father was a famous psychiatrist who happened to be a transvestite and her mother was a successful surgeon. Even her younger brother Jemima was a sissy at the academy who had been turned from an unruly wayward disobedient boy to a sweet, compliant, simpering sissy just like Davinia. In Jemima the startling effects of bimboisation could be readily measured.

Despite being a really clever, bright boy academically, Jemima’s bimboisation had totally changed her nature. Although Jemima could easily handle the academic rigours of the academy, she found the slightest academic or intellectual process to be a wearisome and tiresome task. However, Jemima easily passed her exams with little effort and despite her simpering bimboism; she was easily capable of a successful academic career. Jemima was an enigma and an exception to the usual bimboisation process. I suspected that a different bimboisation process had been used on Jemima.

Despite her cleverness, Jemima was far happier giggling and mincing around whilst gushing and cooing over clothes and fashion. Jemima was one of the sweetest and most compliant sissies in the school.

Unlike her brilliant sister Victoria who was Oxbridge material, Jemima was desperately hoping to go straight for some fashion conscious mistresses’ household to take up essential fashion, domestic and other sissy duties.

In Joanna however, whilst the sissification effects were progressing perfectly, she still sported her delicious cock. Thanks to the special `sissy pill’ Joanna’s cock was now fully erected and my little `tickler’ was also stood as stiff and proud as ever a sissy cockette could.

My eyes fell covetously upon Joanna’s beautiful erection as she finally stood naked before Victoria. Victoria caught my mood and she smiled indulgently.

“Fancying her are you Michelle?”

I nodded wistfully for my sissy hole was beginning to twitch in anticipation. I squirmed self-consciously and Victoria smiled indulgently.

“Patience darling, I know your keen but Monica has absolute priority. Her needs are far more important than yours. You’re only a sissy don’t forget! I presume you’ve douched of course?”

I nodded eagerly. Douching had become almost automatic after every evacuation of my sissy hole. A Mistress Janet’s Academy sissy never knew when she could receive a reaming in later life so good habits were started early in the academy. A sissy from the academy was well instilled with excellent hygiene habits by the time she left and she also had regular functions. For example, throughout my adult life I douched twice a day after each evacuation and always before any anticipated duties provided I was not too tightly corseted.

Once we were all prepared and suitably attired in beautiful frilly panties and bra, Victoria `introduced’ Joanna to Monica and gently explained how a sissy should approach a mistress with a view to pleasuring that mistresses’ needs. Monica simply lay back and invited Joanna to remove her panties with her mouth whilst I knelt in close attendance in case an extra mouth as needed.
As Monica’s epilated love lips began to glisten I turned inquisitively to Victoria but she simply smiled and whispered softly.

“You’re a third year sissy now darling, poor Joanna is a novice despite her age. Just explain to her how a sissy would address those silvery droplets on Monica’s ‘alter of superiority’.”

I smiled inwardly at Victoria’s description of Monica’s permanently denuded vulva and explained to Joanna how to use only the tip of her tongue to initially `tidy up’ a mistresses’ labia prior to her inviting her sissy to take things any further. In many households, it was the sissy’s duty to clean her mistresses’ labia every morning and evening or even after every urination if the mistress was particularly oppressive and the sissy especially servile. For this initiation however, Victoria saw to it that Monica was allowed to indulge her libidous needs but take it no further.

As Joanna extended a tentative tongue to Monica’s dark crinkly labia-major, Monica released a whimper of delight and croaked softly as her desires mounted. I explained to Joanna to keep her tongue stiff and to rasp gently as she finally removed the silvery droplets from Monica’s outer lips before responding to Monica’s repeated beseechments to go deeper. Eventually, after Victoria had satisfied herself that Monica’s outer lips were thoroughly clean, Joanna was instructed to push deeper with her tongue. Joanna needed no further encouragement except to be told to take it slowly as Monica started to gasp and squirm.

“Oo-ooh yesss! That’s right, just there; inside, deeper; that’s right! Oooh yes, ooo-oohh yeee-eesss!”

As Monica began to surrender to her needs, Victoria, Janice and I closely monitored Joanna’s technique as she extended her tongue further and cautiously licked every vital fold and secret crinkle of Monica’s labia-minor. Victoria was pleased with Joanna’s efforts and she whispered encouragement.

“That’s excellent darling, just look how Monica is surrendering to her needs, look how she had spread her legs and opened up like a flower offering her pollen to a bee. Now, do you see that little bud at the top of the cleft where her labia divide?”
Joanna pulled her head back momentarily to focus on the view filling her vision and she nodded as she recognised Monica’s stiff, little starter button.

Victoria explained.

“Now gently take it in your lips and alternately flick it with your tongue then suck it gently. Just watch what happens!”

Joanna’s eyes widened with curiosity then she did as instructed. Gently she brought her newly sissified, soft, velvety lips to the sensitive nubbin of flesh and carefully pressed her soft velvety lips down onto the rigid organ. Monica let out a soft mewling cry and urgently thrust her hips upwards to accelerate Joanna’s careful approach.

“Stop teasing me you little sissy!” Gasped Monica as she finally drove her most secret place against Joanna’s soft lips and embedded her clitty between Joanna’s bruised lips. Joanna let out a whimper of pain for Monica’s action had been quite forceful. In normal sex, Monica would by now, have savoured full penetration and then ground her desperate nubbin against the pubic crest of an equally horny man. Then both might have ascended into a mutual heterosexual nirvana but this time all Monica succeeded in doing was to crush Joanna’s upper lip against her upper jaw and teeth.

Poor sweet Joanna lurched backwards in pained surprise as she tasted blood inside her upper lip where Monica’s frustrations had overtaken her caution. Victoria intervened and scolded Monica gently like some patient master craftsman explain a technique to a recently inducted acolyte

“Carefully Monica darling! You’ve hurt the dear little thing. She’s only a little sissy and they are quite delicate things. Use your finger to address your needs while I get some ointment for Joanna’s mouth.”

Monica let out a frustrated moan and bewailed her misfortune. To have come so close only to have her climax delayed because of her own overzealous impatience was distressing enough. Victoria sensed Monica’s distress so she motioned to me to dive in and seal the breach until Joanna was OK.

Hesitantly I dipped my head between Monica’s thighs and extended my tongue into the honey pot. Cautiously I diddled the standing bud with my extended tongue for I had no intentions of being slammed into Monica’s mons and having my lip almost split. Monica let out an impatient howl and demanded that I press harder but I at least now had Victoria on my side. One injured sissy was enough for a mornings work.

"Take it easy Monica, you’ve already hurt one little sissy and she’s something special what with being entire and all. I’ve treated Joanna’s lip so would you prefer for Joanna to perhaps mount you and give you a good reaming."

Monica’s eyes widened with concern for the truth was that Monica was a lesbian. Fortunately, her concerns lay more with a revulsion of the hairy muscular male form, rather than the possession of a cock. Monica studied Joanna’s slender sissyish form and assessed the budding mounds. In Monica’s perception, Joanna’s shape was sufficiently girly to be tolerable whilst her skin was soft and smooth and peachy enough to pass for a girl in a close embrace. Cautiously, Monica agreed and Victoria once more assumed the post of master of ceremonies. Gently she enticed the nervous Joanna to gently approach the Fevered, frustrated Monica.

“Come on sweetie. Don’t be frightened. The last little accident was Monica’s fault. She got a bit over excited. This time we’ll do it the proper way. You’ve got a delicious cock there and I can see that the sissy pill is working perfectly. Now gently lie alongside Monica then slowly ease your leg over her and inveigle yourself between her thighs”

I must confess that as Joanna approached the bed again even I felt a delicious feeling in my sissy hole as I studied Joanna’s beautiful erection. I could not help it. Despite my heterosexuality, several years of sissification medication had turned my sissy hole into a pleasure pot that became instantly aroused when ever an erect cock or even a dildo appeared. Whatever sexuality a sissy enjoyed, it was an automatic axiom of sissiness that Mistress Janet’s sissies immediately came on heat when a cock was available. We sissies just couldn’t help it. Sissies were there to pleasure their mistresses and whosoever their mistresses wanted to favour. A sissy had to be able to get aroused even faster than a horny satyr so that a mistress could offer the service to their men friends if their men friends became instantly horny, - as so many men were want to do.

I couldn’t help wriggling my curvaceous butt as anticipation prepared my body for whatever might be demanded of me. Victoria caught my reactions and she smiled knowingly at me.

“Not now Michelle. This is Mistress Monica’s show. Perhaps later if Monica wishes to see how sissies do it.”

I sighed wistfully. That was one of the problems with sissydom. Uncertainty, uncertainty, uncertainty!

By now Monica had seized control of the situation again and as Joanna lay beside her Monica immediately took the dominant role. Instead of letting Joanna slide over her prone body, Monica rolled on top of Joanna and instantaneously plunged her rapacious cunt down onto Joanna’s rampant organ. Fortunately Joanna’s cock was every bit as hard and vigorous as any man’s and Monica gave a squeal of delight as she greedily thrust her love tube down the trusty pole. She let out a groan of satisfaction as she felt her soft, wet, velvety scabbard ensnare Joanna’s silky, rigid cock until her clitty finally fetched up against Monica’s pubic crest. Now Monica had her clitty firmly embedded against Joanna’s pubis and she desperately ground her hips as she mashed her excited organ to satisfaction. Naturally this also excited Joanna who was also a virgin and the poor sissy became entangled in the same cataclysmic orgasm as the pair blasted into their mutual nirvana.

As they cried and wailed their mutual passions I turned quietly to Victoria and asked.

“If Monica was a virgin, why isn’t she bleeding?”

Victoria gave a short derisory snort as she replied.

“Don’t be silly Michelle. Monica’s had hundreds of dildos inside her. She’s only a virgin as regards a real cock. She lost her hymen long ago.”

“Oh!” I replied monosyllabically as I realised my naivety. “Stupid question really.”

“Why indeed not,” smiled Victoria patronisingly. “You weren’t to know petal.”

The use of the word Petal reminded me of Auntie Beverly for it was her term of endearment for both Janice and me. I felt a warm glow of kinsmanship envelope me for I had never heard Victoria use the term before. I turned and smiled to Janice whose grin almost split her face with pleasure. She was also savouring Victoria’s words. Victoria, ever sensitive to the slightest nuance picked up on our shared smile.

“What?” She smiled.

We both hesitated before Janice chose to speak.

“It’s that word.”

“What word,” asked Victoria?

“Petal. You called Michelle Petal.”

“Well it’s nice word for a sissy. Why is it so special to you?”

“It’s our Auntie Beverly’s term of endearment for both of us. She’s always used it, ever since we were children.” I added cautiously, hoping not to cause offence.

Victoria paused thoughtfully then smiled before explaining.

“Come to think of it, that’s probably where I picked it up; off your aunt that is. So why did you smile when I used it?”

“It’s just that it means a lot to us,” replied Janice, “it was nice for you to use it. Michelle and I feel really happy when somebody calls us that.”

Victoria nodded understandingly and smiled again then motioned her head to the exhausted couple lying tightly embraced on Victoria’s bed. Joanna’s cock was still deeply embedded in Monica’s most intimate place.

“Well this is a happy occasion; don’t you agree? Just look at these two. Monica’s had her first real cock and Joanna’s had her first real woman.”

Janice and I grinned knowingly as Janice added.

“And they’ve shared their first mutual orgasm. Just how lovely is that?”

“A successful morning, I think you’ll all agree,” finished Victoria as she nodded her head and motioned me towards her tiny little studio kitchen.

“They’ll both want a nice cup of tea when they recover so let’s make this a memorable occasion.”

I complied eagerly while Janice and Victoria fell to discussing the events of that morning.

“I’m really pleased,” sighed Victoria, “this has been a test for me every bit as much as Monica and Joanna.”

“Why’s that?” Asked Janice.

“Well mistresses should be able to readily conduct events and occasions as the perfect host. This was a test for me to see if I was ready to become a mistress after leaving school. I think it went well.”

“Oh it went well all right,” giggled Janice as she sensuously squeezed her own thighs together, “just look at those to sleeping beauties.”

Victoria turned and smiled at the tightly embraced couple then she reached up into her little linen cupboard and produced a thin satin lined blanket that she gently slipped over the somulent pair. I saw her do this just as I entered with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Oh! I would have done that,” I protested mildly.

Victoria turned and smiled indulgently.

“You were busy making the tea darling and they would have become cold.”

I nodded obediently and did a neat sissy bob as I lowered the tray to the low coffee table. Victoria smiled and asked me.

“Did you think it was successful this morning?”

“Gosh yes mistress. Just look at them, they’re lost to the world.”

“Not for long,” observed Janice, “they’re waking up.”

We all turned to face the indulgent pair and smiled as their eyes opened.

“Ooooohh!” Sighed Monica replete with satisfaction. “That was just so beautiful. Joanne is just so curvy and girly and peachy!”

“Well indeed it was darling and it looked beautiful as well,” added Victoria, “I think you’ve drained young Joanna of all she’s got.”

At the mention of her name, Joanna stirred and blinked sleepily over the edge of the blanket.

“Did someone mention me?”

“Yes indeed, you little sleepy head. You’d better not lie abed like that when you acquire a mistress.” Cautioned Victoria before adding. “Well; did you enjoy it?”

Joanna’s face beamed with pleasure as she nodded vigorously. Victoria nodded again then spoke with authority.

“Very well sissy, then you’d best get cleaned up and ready to return to lessons. Mistress Janet only gave us until the break.”

Reluctantly, Joanna dragged herself from under the blanket but not before Monica had stolen one final kiss. I turned to Janice and sensed Janice’s fears. After all, Joanna was all but betrothed to Janice. Fortunately, Victoria was aware of our private lifetime agreements and she turned to Monica with a caution.

“This is strictly a one off Monica. Mistress Janet was adamant about that. You’ve had an entire sissy for your own gratification and to satisfy your curiosity. Joanna is forbidden to you from now on. She’s promised to Janice.”

Monica frowned discontentedly but nodded confirmation as her eyes followed Joanna’s soft peachy bum into the bathroom. Then she turned to Janice.

“You’re a lucky girl Janice. She’s just the best fuck a mistress could ever dream of.”

“Yeah. She is sort of special,” sighed Janice as her eyes followed Monica’s directly to Joanna’s swaying rounded hips.

By eleven o’clock everybody was back in their respective classes and Victoria was presenting her report, (endorsed by we others,) to Mistress Janet. Victoria passed this final school test with flying colours and she met us again after evening milking. Her smile said it all. Victoria had already passed her national `A’ level exams and she was destined for medical school. With all her academic ambitions satisfied, Victoria could devote the rest of that school year to improving her mistress skills and fulfilling the role of `head girl’. It was a blissful year at the academy and Joanna blossomed into sissyhood in the fertile soil of Mistress Janet’s provision and with Victoria’s skilful husbandry.

The only cloud for me was that I felt I was loosing Janice. Yes, we still slept together and we often pleasured each other but Janice was forced to confess that she was looking forward to the day when she and Joanna could finally become joined as Sissy and Mistress.

“I love you Michelle, but we are brother and sister so we can never marry, or even have children.”

Reluctantly, I was forced to concede this argument but things were soon to take a different turn. During the Christmas holidays of that year Simone and I started to become attracted to each other back at the farm.

It started when the Old Squire Weston took a turn for the worse after a bout of winter flue. His pitiful beseechments to his transvestite son James (whom we all called Auntie Jamie) became more and more insistent.

“You must give me a grandson James. The family name, it will all go to your stupid uncle Arnold and that ghastly son of his, the cousin who used to beat you up.”

James sighed wistfully but secretly wondered if he was actually capable of getting his beautiful wife Beverly Pregnant. Both Beverly and Jamie knew that once Jamie had made her pregnant and given Jamie and his father Earl Weston a legitimate son and heir then she could allow him to indulge his lifetime relationship with his partner Peregrine, that is Beverly’s transvestite brother and my uncle.

It was Simone and I that hatched out a plot as we took our turns sitting either side of Squire Weston’s sick bed mounting our vigil as he was slowly recovering. Squire Weston had made it abundantly obvious that if his younger brother Arnold inherited the title and it’s estates, he would show little sympathy to the gypsies or the ‘sexual perverts’ as he liked to call us. As Earl Weston had grown older and frailer, his younger brother had taken to frequently visiting the estate with his odious son William as though already checking up on what the estate was worth and how much it could be exploited. To Arnold’s chagrin Squire Weston started to recover.

Squire Weston was sitting up by now and eating in his wheel chair. We were playing Monopoly with him because he had become bored with television and books. (Squire Weston was too old to be much into computers.)

As we played around the board the property aspect of the game must have concentrated the old Earl’s mind upon the fate of his estate. He fell to chatting with us between throws of the dice.

“If Arnold gets the estate, there’s no knowing what dreadful things he’ll do to the old place.”

“But it goes to Auntie Jamie first, he’s your eldest son,” I observed.

“Yes of course my child, but after that, what happens to you poor dears if or when Jamie dies. Then that ghastly nephew of mine moves in? I need a grandson, a legitimate grandson! I’m not sure if my dear son is capable of fatherhood.”

It was Simone who thought up the idea. She had just placed her first hotel on Bond Street and she was looking like winning. Simone seemed to have a sharp eye for property and it manifested itself on the board. As I wondered how I was ever going to pay Simone the rent the room fell silent. I was going to have to sell my last row of money earners which were the pitiful run down slums on the Old Kent Road. Simone offered to take them off me as payment. It was obvious that I had lost and was soon dropping out of the game and I reluctantly handed the remains of my portfolio to Simone. She grinned and turned to the Earl.

“You can’t beat property, can you Uncle Weston?”

The old earl smiled and sighed.

“I wish I was your uncle darling. You’d be the loveliest niece a man could have, or even better still a grand daughter.”

“Why’s that uncle?” Pressed Simone.

“It would mean John; or you all call her Joanna now, would be my grandson. She’s a lovely boy, that John.”

Simone fell silent for the remainder of the game and when she finally won it, she gave Earl Weston a generous kiss as I packed the game away. Joanna and Janice appeared to take over the next four hours and Auntie Beverly or Morag would do the night shift from midnight to six. This was no longer the arduous shift it had been. Earl Weston was recovering well and we all expected him to be ready for Christmas dinner. As Simone and I crunched our way along the gravel path back to the farm Simone broached her ideas to me.

“Uncle Weston wants a grandson doesn’t he?”

I nodded but said nothing. I was too busy focusing the torch on the path.

“Well I think there’s a way around this.”

I stopped and looked at her.

“Go on.”

“We’ve got to make Auntie Jamie get Auntie Bev pregnant.”

“I should think they’re already trying, wouldn’t you? They’ve been married long enough.” I observed.

“Yeah well I think Auntie Jamie’s going to need a bit of help. He doesn’t seem to be having much luck, does he? I mean, I’m with the old earl on this, I’m not sure if Jamie’s even capable of making fertile sperm.”

“If he isn’t, there’s not much we can do about it.”

Simone gave a slow secretive little smile.

“Were not just gypsies for nothing Michelle.” She declared.

“What d’you mean?”

“We’ve still got relatives you know, relatives down the west country.”

“So what about them?”

“Well my Great Aunt Geraldine.”

“Who’s she?”

“Only one of the last and greatest gypsy herbalists left in Britain.”

“So?”

“Well. If I went down to see her, she could knock me up a potency potion.”

“Oh come off it Simone. That’s all superstition and nonsense. Old medieval quackery!”

“Oh no it’s not! You just remember over half of all medicines had their origins in plants. Saccharine and digitalis to name but two!”

“Well, okay, I’ll grant you that but a love potion. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale.”

“Yeah, like Viagra. That started out as a pill for depression and look what happened. Doctors don’t know everything. There’s natural plants that work like Viagra, it’s just that people like my auntie don’t spread the word around. They keep it as a trade secret, that’s how they make their money. Nobody can sue a herbalist if they agree to what the herbalist tells them to take. The herbalist doesn’t have to reveal what herbs are being used. I’m telling you my Auntie Geraldine might well be able to speed things up a bit. It’s been months since Jamie and your auntie got married and nothing!”

I shrugged my slender shoulders. Who was I to question old Gypsy folk lore. Simone grinned and skipped away to speak to her dad. She came back about a half hour later.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. When everybody else goes shopping, my dad, you and I can go and see Auntie Geraldine, she’s my dad’s auntie and my great aunt. Dad was her favourite. She’ll do it if he asks and it affects him because it affects all our family. If Jamie doesn’t produce a son and heir, we’re all out on our butts when he dies.

“Crickey Simone! That’s a long way off, Auntie Jamie’s only forty odd.”

“So thirty years from now, when we’re old and frail, that odious cousin of Jamie’s, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

I considered her ideas and agreed it was worth a shot, besides I fancied a trip in Mr Bandy’s highly decorated transit van. It usually attracted a lot of smiles and waves amongst genuine country folk for it was well known amongst the older inhabitants. Saturday noon after an early start, and separating my half of the milking machine to run off the van’s outlet, we found ourselves in Dorset approaching a pretty cottage deep down a woody lane.

“I thought you were all travelling people.” I observed.

“Not any more love,” Simone revealed. “We were one of the last of our family to give it up. What d’you think of Auntie Geraldine’s cottage?”

“I reminds me of ‘Babes-in-the-Wood’,”

“Oh come off it Michelle. She’s a gypsy herbalist, not a bloody witch!”

We grinned as we were about to knock the door when a plump red-faced old lady opened the door and smiled readily as she flung her arms around Simone and offered a kiss to her nephew, Mr Bandy.

“I recognised Billy's transit, who wouldn’t? Come in then; don’t just dawdle on the door-step. Come in, come in!”

We stepped over the threshold then Auntie Geraldine looked me up and down with a puzzled smile as she turned to Simone.

“I was about to ask you who this pretty young lady was but I, - I’m getting mixed uuhhm, - mixed signals.”

Simone’s eyes widened with delight. Her aunty had already demonstrated her strange powers by not letting me ‘pass’ as a girl despite my totally feminine appearence. Normally I always passed. Simone explained.

“This is Michelle auntie. She’s, - uuhhm, she’s, - uhhmm.”

“I’m transgendered, Mrs Bandy.”

She smiled and nodded knowingly.

“Ah yes, I sensed something, are you here for some sort of help?”

“Well no, not for me specifically, it’s for someone we know but if he’s cured it will help Mr Bandy and all his children.”

Auntie Geraldine smiled, and invited Simone to explain as Mr Bandy slipped through into the spotless little kitchen and made a pot of tea. I sat occasionally confirming some fact as Simone went on at length. By the time everything was explained we had consumed two pots of tea and Geraldine’s black and white cat Festus had overcome his shyness. He was stretched out on my lap contentedly purring and digging his claws into my jeans as he allowed me to stroke him. I suspected that Festus was Geraldine’s barometer of acceptance. If Festus accepted you, then you were in. I was in. Festus positively clung to my knees and reluctantly let go as I needed a toilet visit. When I returned, he immediately claimed my lap again. Auntie Geraldine watched Festus’s behaviour and smiled.

“He likes you Michelle. I’ll see what can be done.” Geraldine observed as she invited us girls outside to a small wooden garden shed.

Mr Bandy made himself useful and dumped a load of pre-cut faggots from his transit then stacked them for Geraldine’s fire.
Festus still refused to surrender my hospitality and he wrapped himself across my shoulders as Geraldine showed us around her natural apothecary. I felt as though I had a real, natural fur stole, furthermore it was centrally heated. Then Geraldine set about grinding and mixing herbs until she had about two pounds of fine ground herbs as fragrant and aromatic as anything from a health food shop. As Simone watched intently, I stood back and savoured the warm purring ‘stole’ draped around my neck. I felt it was not my part to somehow try and Garnish Geraldine’s secrets. Then she explained how to boil a teaspoonful of herbs into a tea then add a few drops into Auntie Jamie’s ordinary tea at least twice a day.

“Now remember girls, these are powerful herbs. Do not overdose your Auntie Jamie.”

When we offered to pay for the herbs Geraldine waved towards the stack of chord-wood that Simone’s dad had stored.

“That’s my payment, from Auntie Jamie’s own woods I believe. He doesn’t know it but he’s paid for the herbs himself. That wood pile will last the rest of the winter, those herbs will last you until next summer. By then, your Auntie Beverly should be with child.”

We deemed this an admirable deal and soon we were on the way home. We arrived just in time to start my milking and Janice was curious to know where we had been.

“To see one of Simone’s relations,” I said, giving away nothing more.

“She’s been ill.” Simone added to avert any more questions.

Janice gave Simone a knowing look as we hitched up to the milking machine. But neither Simone or I elaborated. After milking Simone and I went to visit the old earl with Janice who was getting ready to take her turn in the bedside rota.

We chatted to the earl and Simone cleverly turned the conversation around to Auntie Jamie’s apparent lack of success in getting Auntie Bev pregnant. Earl Weston made no secret. If Jamie got Bev with child the big house would be full of an extended family again and the old Earl would be blissfully happy. We resolved to put it to Auntie Beverly the moment we reached the farmhouse.

Simone’s mummy Morag had our suppers ready while Auntie Beverly was preparing a night plate for the old earl. He often liked to nibble in the small hours and the older women indulged him. The man had been generosity personified throughout his life and he deserved loving care in his dotage.

As we settled around the table, Simone wasted no time in presenting her ideas.

“We’ve got to get this grandson thing sorted with the old squire.” She announced to no-one in particular.

As Auntie Beverly finally recovered her composure, she stopped laughing and spoke softly.

“I think Auntie Jamie might have something to say about all this. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to ask him first, not to mention a common courtesy?”

“Very well then; I will” Announced Simone.

Auntie Beverly resumed eating her food but she could not prevent the smiles continually returning to her face between bites. Eventually the meal was finished and we cleared away the plates. Isobel and Sally were still out riding the old gypsy horse around the estate with their father who rarely came into the house except to sleep. Davinia was away visiting Victoria’s brother Jemima in Richmond London so we girls filled the dishwasher before settling down to watch the telly. Auntie Bev and Morag retired to bed early to catch a couple of hours sleep before the night watch with Earl Weston.

As we sat alone in front of the telly, Simone and I fell to chatting and we soon snuggled up on the settee to watch a weepy chick flick. It wasn’t long before we were sobbing our hearts out and we hugged each other as the film finally came to a happy ending. Strangely, we did not release each other when the credits rolled and we soon found ourselves kissing hungrily for long minutes after the video had fallen silent. Eventually we separated and we both found ourselves gazing into the other’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” I asked Simone nervously.

“Yes, of course I do. Come here silly.”

With these words, she clasped her hands around my neck again and pulled my lips to hers. Immediately we were locked in a frantic snog. Simone’s sweet velvety lips and tongue tasted just so delicious, that I could not let her go. It was the same for her and soon we were lying along the settee with our legs entwined and locked in a passionate embrace that lasted nearly an hour. It was Simone’s younger sisters, Sally and Isobel who found us after putting the horse to bed.

Fortunately we were still fully dressed and Simone’s younger sisters giggled with salacious delight when they found us. Their father heard the giggling and stepped into the television lounge to see why. Happily he was not angered at finding us cuddling up. In the long relationship between the Earl’s family and Mr Bandy’s gypsy clan there had been innumerable occasions of boys in the earl’s family turning out to be gender dysfunctional. Indeed the clan had often surmised that it was the compassionate aspect of femininity that had caused the symbiosis between the families to endure. It was only now, with the demise of their travelling ways that that symbiosis had come to mean a lot more. Mr Bandy smiled down at his daughter and I as we embarrassedly disentangled our embrace. His smile softened further to reassure us that he was not angry.

“Do you two love each other as well?” He asked disarmingly.

For a moment both of us cast our eyes downwards but I felt Simone’s hand grip mine just fractionally tighter. As I responded by squeezing her hand gently we looked sideways at each other and realised we did. I felt my heart flutter as I gazed into Simone’s soft loving eyes and realised her heart was also beating furiously. Eventually I found my voice and croaked a soft `Yes.’
Mr Bandy bent down and smiled at his oldest daughter with huge affection.

“You could do a lot worse darling. At least we know Michelle’s affectionate and caring. It will be one big happy family around her.”

He then turned to me and inquired with no little concern.

“You can father children, can’t you?”

“So, - sort of,” I replied, “but I ca, - I can’t, you know, - assault her, - penetrate her in any way. But I am fertile.”

“You mean you’re like Davinia; down there I mean.”

I nodded for I was not about to go into any more detail. I had established that Simone was safe from any unwanted attentions, at least until we grew up and got married, and we both now understood that we wanted to live a life together. Even at the tender ages of fifteen and fourteen, we knew. Mr Bandy nodded with satisfaction. Another of his children would make it out of the old travelling life that had changed so dramatically from the epitome of travelling freedom to a prison of danger and abuse. Oh how the gypsy’s world had changed.

He bent down, kissed Simone on her cheek, gave her a little hug and asked her to put the kettle on while her younger sisters went up to get washed and ready for bed. Simone sensed that Mr Bandy wanted to chat to me so she obliged and made a tactful departure into the kitchen. He settled on the settee beside me and smiled. I gradually relaxed as he opened up.

“What do you know about Simone?”

I swallowed and took a deep breath.

“She’s not cut out for the travelling life. Not like Isobel and Sally.”

“No. Indeed she’s not. She doesn’t like horses much, and I think she doesn’t like men much either.”

I took this as a fatherly hint as to Simone’s sexuality so I boldly opened up.

“She doesn’t. She’s a lesbian. That much I know for sure.”

“Yes. I thought so. I had already given up on her ever giving me grandchildren.”

“Oh no!” I protested, “no that’s not right Mr Bandy; your daughter Simone loves children. I’m sure she’d like to have some. Honestly Mr Bandy, being a lesbian doesn’t stop a woman wanting to have children.”

“Has she told you she wants them?” He pressed.

“Not in so many words, but I’ve drawn my own conclusions. Look how she cares for Isobel and Sally.”

“That’s just sisterliness. She once told me that she didn’t want children and she didn’t like the idea of a huge hairy man crushing her down onto the bed and wounding her.”

“Gosh, I’m surprised she said that, especially to her own father. Young gays don’t tend to tell their parents much until push comes to shove.”

“My oh my Michelle! You shoot straight from the hip don’t you? I like that, straight talking, no misunderstandings. So you know Simone’s gay. Well you’ll also know that gypsy families are close. Our feelings for each other run deep.”

“Yes. I’ve learned that already. Well I’ve know it for years cos I’ve known you and your family ever since I was born.”

“Indeed. Just as we’ve known your family for generations, long, long before Lord James met your Uncle Peregrine. Hist now, here comes the tea.”

I decided to have the issue out in the open for if Simone had told her father she didn’t want to conceive children it was a very different story from the one she’d told me. When I explained the issues and put the question to her, Simone frowned uncertainly then her eyes lit up as she remembered exactly what she had told her father.

“No Dad. I didn’t say I didn’t want children. I just said I didn’t want some horrible hairy man crushing me and hurting me and then getting me pregnant. It was the crushing and horrible hairiness I didn’t like. The pregnant thing was an afterthought because I associated sex with a man with getting pregnant painfully and being made to pleasure him even when I was swollen and heavy. Don’t forget, Mum had to stop you when she was carrying Sally and Isobel. I was there for her remember, I heard the pleading and refusals when she just couldn’t accommodate you.

I was there when she was morning sick and again when she was so big she couldn’t lift the big pots. It’s that side of things I don’t want. If Michelle and I have babies it will be completely different. Michelle’s a sissy and sissies do all the domestic stuff. If a mistress has a baby by her sissy then she can look forward to being pampered and cherished. I relish the day I’m pregnant by Michelle.”

Mr Bandy turned to me with questioning eyebrow and I vigorously nodded my agreement with Simone.

“I’ll be just like Davinia is, all help and caring.”I declared.

Mr Bandy had no more to say. He felt a little guilty about his own daughter revealing that she had been a witness to the arguments between Morag and himself when he pleaded for sex and she was exhausted. He fell silent and sipped his tea thoughtfully.

“That academy place must be one weird place.”

“Well it works for me,” I conceded.

“And me daddy,” added Simone.

William Bandy smiled one last time, finished off his tea and slipped upstairs to his sleeping wife. As caretaker of the farm and the estate, his new job meant long hours and as a watchman he also worked nights. The chance of an early night was a rare opportunity. He gave us both a meaningful smile and went upstairs. I turned to Simone.

“Your dad’s OK.”

“He is now he knows he’s going to get grandchildren who will get to still live on this farm when Uncle Penny and Auntie Beverly die,” observed Simone.

“Oh come on darling, surely your dad’s not that covetous.”

“Not for himself, or mum but he’s keeping a weather eye out for us children.”

“Well who can blame any man for that, look at Earl Weston, he’s desperate for Auntie Jamie to procreate, and talking of Jamie, speak of the devil.”

We both turned as the powerful rumble of Uncle Penny’s supercar scrunched onto the gravel and the engine gave one last throaty growl before spluttering to a halt. Simone turned to me and whispered as Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny emerged.

“D’you think we should start dosing him with the herbs tonight?”

“Why not. Auntie Geraldine says it can’t do any harm.”

Simone slipped away into the kitchen leaving me to welcome my uncles home. After I had welcomed them in, Simone shouted `Coffee or tea!’ from the kitchen.

Both of them slumped onto the settee and asked for tea as I sat on one of the matching arm chairs.

“Had a good week?” I asked.

“Not bad,” sighed Auntie Jamie as she gently stroked Uncle Penny’s neck inviting Penny to lie with her head in her lap. Uncle Penny accepted the invitation and the two settled comfortably on the settee as Simone arrived with the tray.

“Eeeh, it’s good to have somebody wait on me for a change, sighed Penny, I’ve been on my feet all day in these heels and it’s just soo-oo goo-ood to slip them off.”

So saying she kicked off her stylish shoes and wiggled her toes invitingly. I seized the opportunity and changed seats as I sat beside them, took Uncle Penny’s feet in my lap and gently massaged Uncle Penny’s feet. She sighed contentedly and Auntie Jamie nodded enviously.

“You can do mine next.”

“O.K., Auntie. Drink your tea while I do Uncle Penny.” I replied.

“I can do Auntie Jamie’s” offered Simone as she placed the cups on the separate side tables then took up position on the opposite end of the settee and took Jamie’s feet in her lap.

Our transvestite uncles gladly rearranged themselves and presented their stocking feet for a delightful massage. Soon they were sipping their tea while sighing and smiling as their numbed feet slowly recovered sensation. It was when they were relaxed and happy that I took the plunge.

“Auntie Jamie.”

“Yes darling.”

“You know when Uncle Weston dies that you inherit the title?”

“Yes; and the estates.”

“Well don’t you want to please him by giving him a grandson?”

Auntie Jamie smiled sweetly and wagged her head regretfully.

“Yes darling but I don’t seem to be having much luck with your auntie.”

I plunged in boldly and perhaps a bit too cheekily.

“Are you trying hard enough?”

“Oh my goodness Michelle, that’s rather personal Question!”

“I know your bi but are you attracted to her enough. I mean are you doing it often enough?”

“Goodness me young lady, that’s a very personal question! Anyway, how often is ‘enough’ as you so crudely put it?”

“At least once a night, maybe more.”

“Well that’s not likely at the moment darling. Beverly’s preoccupied with my father getting better while Penny and I keep the business afloat in London. Times are tough at the moment.”

“I thought you were bi.”

“I am young lady; well I’m Bi enough to function with Beverly. Your auntie’s very attractive you know. I find her very provocative. We do, - uuhhm, - function as man and wife you understand.”

“I know. She’s very pretty,” I added, “and she hardly ever wears any make up. What you see at midnight, is what you get in the morning when you wake up.”

Jamie let out a howl of laughter and reached over to tickle me for my boldness.

“Why, you little minx. How do you know what she looks like in the morning?”

“I often help her dress. She wears a tight corset.”

“Oh I know that,” added Uncle Penny. “I wasn’t her brother for all those years for nothing darling. My younger sister’s always worn corsets, ever since she grew a figure.”

“So Auntie Jamie,” I pressed, “are you going to pay her more attention. Then make sure everybody is safe from your odious cousin Andrew.”

Auntie Jamie twisted around and stared longingly into Uncle Penny’s eyes.

“What do you think? She’s your sister. Should I forsake you until I get my wife pregnant?”

“Uncle Penny pulled a bit of a face before agreeing to having to forgo her long time lover’s attention. Then she smiled thoughtfully.”

“I suppose if it means I’m to have another little nephew then how can I object!”

This chapter describes Joanna's voluntary progression into sissyhood then addresses social issues un Auntie Jamie's extended (and somewhat bigoted,) family of cousins, aunts etc.

---

22 The Sissy Farm.

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 father’s earldom.)
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.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy boy once called David
John (Joanna) and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.
Morag & William Bandy The gypsy parents.

Author’s Note for my US Sisters. A Vardo is an old, highly decorated, horse drawn gypsy caravan.

Sissy farm Chapter 22.

In the morning, we met Aunty Beverly and Morag as Joanne, Janice and I prepared for our early morning milking. We were getting the machine ready as they emerged from Earl Weston’s bedroom at the end of their long nightshift. Auntie Bev smiled at us and invited Morag in to see what sissy-milking entailed.

“Now you’ll see exactly what your beautiful sissy son has decided upon.” Smiled Auntie Beverly as Morag’s eyes fell upon her sissified son Joanne and widened slightly with pleased surprise. However she was tired after a night nursing the old earl so after confirming tha her son Joanne was truly contented with his new sissified life she made her excuses and slipped wearily to her bed.

We soon settled down to a three-way coupling of the milkers. While Joanne and Janice shared their partner pants, I had to simply sit and squirm salaciously as Joanne and Janice savoured Joanne’s newly discovered delights. Auntie Beverly sensed my despair and sat by me as we all three sissies shared the milking machine.

“Feeling left out darling?” She asked.

“Yes auntie, but I suppose that the school will find me a new partner. I’m really going to miss my sister Janice.”

“Well I’m sorry darling, but Janice is your sister. It just wouldn’t be right for you two to be involved sexually, and as for babies, well, -“

“Talking of babies,” I interrupted boldly, “when are you and Auntie Jamie going to give Earl Weston a grandson?”

Auntie Beverly’s jaw sagged with amazement at my bold inquiry and it was several seconds before her reply broke the stunned silence.

“Have you mentioned any of this to Auntie Jamie?”

Janice and I exchanged guilty looks and grinned conspiratorially. Eventually it was left to me to confess and I stared at the floor as I almost whispered my reply.

“Well, actually; yes Auntie.”

“Oh! So do tell. Spill the beans, what did Auntie Jamie say?”

“She ran it by Uncle Penny first.”

“And?”

“He seemed to think it was OK. Uncle Penny was more concerned with preserving their business interests, you know, the club and pub and all the stuff back in Pimlico.”

“Yes. That would figure, my brother’s worked hard to get that business up and running. She wouldn’t want to lose it.”

“Auntie Jamie says that she’s happy you’re married because she and Penny were only joined in a civil partnership. There’s no enmity from Uncle Penny?”

“Well, there are plenty of worse people I could have ended up married to. Jamie’s quite sweet and she’s always been nice to me.”

I felt a surge of joy ripple through my body as I tried to envisage Auntie Beverly with a baby; ‘maybe she might let me feed my baby cousin,’ I secretly hoped.

‘After all wasn’t that exactly the sort of thing that sissies were made for?’ I asked myself.

“Are you going to press her then? Make her do her duty by you.” Pressed Janice.

Auntie Beverly smiled enigmatically but did not reveal her thoughts.

“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?” She replied.

Janice and I exchanged more secretive smiles but Auntie Beverly was also tired after her long vigil at Earl Weston’s bedside. Reluctantly she left us to continue our milking.

Janice and I weren’t prepared to let the matter rest though and as soon as we had finished milking and cleaned up, we sought out Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny. Because Auntie Bev had been involved in caring for old Earl Weston Jamie and Penny had slept together. If Great Auntie Geraldine’s potion was to work we had to make sure Auntie Jamie got regular dosage and she and Auntie Bev got it together at least once a day.

Still in our nighties we minced happily along the landing to Auntie Jamie’s bedroom while Joanne went down to the kitchen to start breakfast.

We found them locked in a passionate embrace amidst a plethora of lace and frills. Gently we climbed onto the bed and I carefully tapped Auntie Jamie’s silk encased butt where her nightdress had ridden up in some passionate nocturne. She stirred sleepily and smiled as she turned to recognise her favourite sissified nephew and niece.

“Hello darlings, what d’you two want so early in the morning?” She whispered as she discreetly tugged her nightdress over her butt.

“I’ve spoken to Auntie Beverly.”

“Oh? What about?”

"You and Auntie Beverly working harder to give your dad a grandson and heir."

Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny both let out a giggle of amusement.

“And? What did she say?”

“She thinks it’s a splendid idea. She would love a baby, - or even two.”

Uncle Penny and Auntie Jamie smiled at each other and turned again to smile at us as Uncle Penny spoke for the first time.

“Well you have been a busy pair haven’t you?”

“But do you agree Uncle Penny? She says she won’t come between you and Auntie Jamie; well, - except to conceive.”

Both my ‘aunties’ let out a squeal of amusement at my unwitting ‘double entendre’ and Auntie Jamie reached over to hug us both to her soft ripe breasts. We savoured the intimacy as Uncle Penny slipped out of bed and stepped over to the little side-board to make some tea. Her full length silk and satin nightie rustled and shimmered luxuriously as her hips swayed effeminately.

“D’you want some tea as well?” She asked as she turned to smile at us cuddling up to Auntie Jamie under the huge duvet.

We nodded contentedly then Janice realised she needed to dose the tea with Auntie Geraldine’s herbs.

“I’ll make the tea Uncle Penny!” She offered.

Oh that’s sweet of you, well the kettle will take some time to boil and we need some milk. Janice seized the opportunity to slip out and get some milk whilst simultaneously collecting a dose of powdered herbs. In the meantime I squeezed up to Auntie Jamie as I savoured her deliciously frilly nightdress and the silky satin sheets of our auntie’s huge king-sized four-poster bed. I felt just like a little princess sharing the queen’s bed. Uncle Penny joined us as Janice finished preparing the tea.

“Well, isn’t that just the prettiest picture,” Janice giggled, “Auntie Beverly would be enchanted to see you cuddled there. Where is she by the way?”

“She’s gone to bed. She and Mrs Bandy were up all night with Jamie’s Dad.”

“How is he?” Asked Jamie. "I was late home last night and he was sleeping."

“They seem to think he’s getting better.”

“Oh good. Hopefully he’ll be OK for the blessing.”

“He’d better be,” Jamie riposted, “he’s the one that wanted our marriage all formalised and witnessed by the entire family.”

Janice and I nearly spilled our teas as we gasped with joy then I let out a squeal of delight.

“Ooooohh! Does that mean you are going to have another wedding.?”

Auntie Jamie exchanged a wide beaming smile with Uncle Penny. Uncle Penny nodded her agreement then went on to explain.

“It’s Jamie’s relatives, they want the whole thing properly formalised so I’m afraid it’s going to be a bigger affair than the original wedding.”

“Ooooh! Will we all be wearing bridal dresses like last time?” I begged.

“Yes, they want it blessed and formalised but we are adamant that it will be ‘in their faces’.

Jamie smiled and gave Janice a peck on the forehead as she whispered.

“Are you two going to be bridesmaids again?”

Janice looked up aghast that Auntie Jamie should even have thought it necessary to ask.

“Of course we are!” She squealed. “And Joanne, and all the others. You’ll have to have about a dozen bridesmaids.”

As I did a rough calculation in my head it came to fifteen of my sissy friends and I declared this number. Auntie Jamie grinned then added a bit of a bombshell.

“Have you counted my other cousins on my side this time. I can think of another half a dozen little girls who would be hugely disappointed if they weren’t invited.”

“Oooh heck!” I gasped, “It’s going to be a huge blessing!

“Yes, and we’ll hold it here in my family home. Dad is still the local squire and Vicar Rachel is quite amenable to Blessing our marriage. She and Dad have talked about it at length and she has no objections to both of us brides being dressed in bridal wear. She knows I am still a little boy down there where it matters so she’s not breaking any cannon law.”

“Oh gosh!” I squealed again, “does that mean you’ll definitely both be in bridal gowns again?”

“Of course darling. My dad will be escorting me to the alter and we haven’t decided who’ll be escorting Auntie Beverly.”

“How about Mr Bandy, he’s a nice man and his own daughters will be bridesmaids.”

“Well that seems like an excellent idea, but don’t you think Uncle Penny might want a say?”

I stopped, suddenly stunned by the simplicity of it all!

‘Of course! Uncle Penny was Auntie Beverly’s brother! She would be the perfect partner escort our Auntie Beverly down the aisle!’ I felt stupid that I had forgetten that Uncle Penny had originally given his sister away at the wedding.

Janice immediately supported the idea and we struggled out of the huge bed to go and spread the news. In our haste, we forgot the normal courtesies and Auntie Jamie had to gently restrain our enthusiasm.

“Come, come now darlings. Let’s not be too hasty. At least let Beverly and I go through the proper formalities. I’ll be seeing her when she wakes up this afternoon.”

Janice and I left suitably chastened and joined Joanna in the kitchens where she had almost finished preparing breakfast. To show our delight, we all took three huge trays of food up to the breakfast room where assorted members of the family were gathering in their peignoirs and nightgowns. Auntie Jamie looked particularly pretty in her long satin nightdress while Uncle Penny danced attention on her. We settled at the long breakfast table and the atmosphere was tense with excitement and joy. Janice and I just couldn’t wait for the afternoon.

When Auntie Beverly awoke, Auntie Jamie wasted no time in inviting her to her father’s bedroom where the old Earl Weston was sitting up in bed. He was obviously recovering. There Auntie Jamie first asked for her father’s blessing and then invited Auntie Beverly to have their union blessed.

Old earl Weston was long reconciled to his son’s transvestite bisexual lifestyle. Indeed he had almost resigned himself to idea of the title passing eventually to the ghastly nephew William long after he had passed away and James would have died without issue.

The idea that his long hoped for dream might actually be coming true had perked up old Earl Weston’s spirits enormously. From the ante-room, Janice, Uncle Penny and I even heard the Old Earl laugh out loud as some obvious private delight had amused the three of them behind the earl’s Bedroom door. Eventually a tearful Auntie Beverly pulled open the door and grinned at us as we were caught eves-dropping.

“I suppose you heard all that,” she grinned.

“Bits of it,” confessed her brother Uncle Penny.

“Well you can now announce it officially to the whole household. It’s on. Jamie and I are getting our marriage formally blessed for the whole family to attend and we are off to see Vicar Rachel to arrange a date.”

“And as soon as possible,” cried the old earl feebly from his bed where Auntie Jamie lay embraced in his arms like any truly affectionate daughter would, “I’m not getting any younger and I just can’t wait to see my brother Arnold’s face plus the expression on my odious nephew William. Go along now, both of you. There’s no time to lose. I want to see this marriage consummated and continue my line.”

“You’d think we were breeding horses,” giggled Auntie Beverly, as she rejoined Auntie Jamie on Earl Weston’s bed for one last hug.

Then Aunties Jamie and Beverly lost no time and skipped away joyfully to meet the Vicar Rachel as we all joined Earl Weston in some afternoon tea. From that moment, the old house was agog with excitement and bustling with activity as arrangements and preparations accelerated. There is no doubt that good news and good vibes can improve a fellow’s health for old Earl Weston was positively skipping around the house at the new developments.

The wedding was arranged for the early summer to accommodate Earl Weston’s frailty but Auntie Beverly and Auntie Jamie had already set about producing the necessary heir. Fortunately, Auntie Jamie was still fertile despite her long exposure to female hormones and we had a very far sighted family doctor to thank for that.

What nobody else but Simone, Janice, William Bandy and I knew however, was that Auntie Jamie’s libido and fertility were increasing by leaps and bounds.

Years earlier, Earl Weston had approached the doctor when he first became aware of his transvestite, bisexual son James’s wishes to become feminised. James had expressed these desires in his early teens so at sixteen a cautious regime had been confidentially agreed early on with Jamie’s enthusiastic co-operation.

The Weston family’s foresight was now to be rewarded. Auntie Beverly could not believe her luck when her new husband’s performance started to improve immeasurably. Beverly put it down to the anticipation of the forthcoming blessing but we four knew differently. Whatever had precipitated Auntie Jamie’s incredible improvement, Beverly was more than thankful.
When Auntie Beverly finally revealed that Jamie’s efforts had probably been successful the jubilation throughout our community was electric!

My Auntie Beverly had missed her period and she was sure she was pregnant.
Everybody waited with baited breath during the intervening weeks until Auntie Beverly was able to confirm from the ultra-sound tests that it was twins and it looked like one of each. All the other tests indicated that the babies were normal.

“Well thank God for that!” Sighed a tearful Earl Weston when the news was finally confirmed, “ I was beginning to lose hope.”

“Oh really daddy!” Scolded Jamie gently, “Beverly and I have only been trying for a few months, you’re such an impatient old daddy. Some couples go for years before conceiving!”

“Well that’s as maybe, but your mother fell pregnant with you at the first attempt.”

Auntie Jamie giggled effeminately but Earl Weston couldn’t have cared less as she scolded her father as any caring daughter might have done.

“Just be thankful you’re going to be a grand-daddy. Now Penny and I have to be off to London tonight so you look after your daughter-in-law Beverly and your unborn grandchildren. We’ll be back Thursday evening to make a long weekend of it and frankly, I can’t wait to sleep with my beautiful wife again.”

So saying Auntie Jamie gave her father a daughterly hug and kissed him softly on his cheek. Earl Weston simply wagged his grey-haired head and stared uncomprehendingly at his feminised son and her boyfriend Penny as they slid gracefully into their car and sped off down the drive.

Even though Earl Weston was a compassionate and tolerant father, it was hard for him to reconcile the image of his beautiful ‘daughter’ with the fact that under that same daughter’s pretty frock there was a fully functioning penis that had successfully continued the family line. In fact, apart from Mr Bandy, the gypsy father come factotum, the whole household was feminine. He wagged his head with amused resignation and invited Beverly to join him at the dinner table. As his daughter-in-law she was now de-facto the mistress of the house and he loved her for it.

Thus was the routine established for the next few weeks as the blessing arrangements went apace. Apart from being hauled out of Mistress Janet’s academy periodically to be checked and fitted for our Bridesmaid’s dresses we were not involved in the arrangements.

Then one Saturday evening as we waited upon Auntie Jamie’s return from London, the next development took place.

After dinner, Auntie Beverly usually joined Earl Weston, Morag, and Mr Bandy for a game of cards whilst we sissies entertained ourselves on the computers or trying on new outfits.

Suddenly, as Auntie Beverly bent down to take her seat at the card table, she felt her babies twitch.

“Ooh!” She squeaked with surprised delight.

“What’s wrong?” Gasped the Earl as his eyes widened solicitously.

“Oh nothing, nothing at all, in fact it’s even better than nothing, feel!”

“So saying, Auntie Beverly took the old Earl’s hand and placed it gently on her bump. The earl’s eyes lit up with delight when he sensed the very slightest of movement ripple under his fingers.

“Oh my God! They moved! I’m glad that the blessing’s next week,” he grinned, “Has my daughter felt them.?”

“Good gracious no, that’s the first time.”

A ripple of contentment circled the card table as everybody realised that the old earl had deliberately used the term ‘daughter’ to refer to Jamie, his feminised son. It was a clear sign that everybody was at peace and happy with the set up. Then, almost as if by command, Auntie Jamie’s car scrunched on the gravel outside.

“Where’s Uncle Penny?” I called from our bedroom window as Auntie Jamie closed her knees and slid gracefully out of her seat.

“Oh, she’s busy finalising some accounts, she’ll be down Saturday.”

We sissies were a little disappointed at this news for Uncle Penny was our favourite adult. She always had time for us girls and sissies and she invariably brought down some new exiting fashions for us to try on. However, our disappointment was soon surpassed by Auntie Beverly and Earl Weston appearing at the main doors to welcome Jamie home. Jamie immediately sensed that there was something special and she skipped up the steps to hug her wife. We heard them whispering underneath our window but failed to catch the gist of things until Jamie let out a squeal of delight. Frantically we dashed downstairs to find out what was afoot.

The hall was agog with excitement as we minced urgently down the wide stairway as fast as out corseted waists would allow. When we learned of the developments we all naturally demanded to feel the babies moving for this was not only a special family occasion but also a lesson in biology for we younger ones. I wanted to Hug Auntie Beverly tight but she gently dissuaded me with the caution that we mustn’t squeeze the babies too tight.

Later that evening when I finally got to my Auntie Beverly alone, I whispered my deepest wish.

“Will I be able to feed them?” I asked hopefully.

Auntie Beverly smiled indulgently.

“We’ll have to wait and see darling. It might not do for a future Earl to be a sissy.”

“But his father, Auntie Jamie is a sissy,” I protested.

“That’s as maybe darling but he might not like the idea of his own baby son being turned into a sissy by your sissy milk. It’s all very well being born a sissy or being punished and turned into one when you’ve committed a crime but it’s not fair to turn a baby into a sissy before he’s even had a chance to make the choice. However, I’m quite sure you’ll be allowed to nurse my little daughter, your other unborn cousin. You’re sissy milk won’t do her so much harm, it might just turn her into a dominatrix or a mistress. Anyway you cheeky little minx, I would like the chance to nurse my own babies you know! That’s my right!”
Auntie Beverly was perfectly right of course and I was a little disappointed that I probably wouldn’t get my own way. Ruefully I slipped into my own bed and reflected on the forthcoming blessing.

As I lay in the dark I suddenly heard my door creak softly. Somebody was entering my room.

“Who’s there?” I whispered softly.

“It’s me, Simone.”

“What d’you want?”

“Company.”

“What! Why?”

“Everybody else is sharing beds, so why can’t I?”

“But, I, - what! You want to share with me?”

“Why not. I get bored just lying there alone. Everybody else gets to share with somebody. It’s nice to share a bed and talk. I miss the intimacy of the old Vardo, when my younger sisters and I used to chatter for hours before sleeping.”

“Davinia doesn’t share with anybody,” I protested, trying not to give away my excitement.”

“Davinia is being punished for what he used to do to me and my sisters.”

“That’s a long punishment,” I replied.

“Look,” scolded Simone impatiently, “d’you want me to come into bed with you or not?”

I could scarcely believe my good luck. Simone was every bit as pretty as my sister Janice and she actually wanted to join me in my bed. This was a sissy’s dream. I rather gave my feelings away when I switched on the bedside light then eagerly flipped back the duvet and patted my pillow by way of invitation. Simone smiled knowingly.

“Well at least you didn’t pat the mattress darling.”

“What d’you mean? I frowned wonderingly.

“The sublimal message you gave just then; you patted the pillow thereby subconsciously offering a place to talk. If you had patted the mattress it might have meant you only wanted sex.”

I was amazed at Simone’s perspicacity for she had interpreted my unconscious messages perfectly. All I had thought about was cuddling up under the duvet and sharing our secret thoughts and desires. Simone was a very sharp girl indeed. I giggled self consciously.

“I couldn’t do anything anyway darling.” I sighed.

“Why not?” Simone whispered as she squeezed up to me.”I’ve heard that your little sissy clitty has grown a bit.”

“This corset is securely tied and locked, and besides, I only have a little boy clitty. The best I could do is pleasure you.

“Well I’ve heard differently. Joanna told me that your auntie has authorised a new hormone treatment for you and things are happening for you, - down there. I hope it's true. The trouble is my corset is not much better. Even though it’s not as tight as yours, it prevents easy access to my special bits. We’ll just have to cuddle up, - like this.”

So saying she reached her hand around my slender sissified waist and pulled us together face to face so that our breasts and nipples met intimately. I let out a little gasp of pleasure and Simone smiled.

“Are your tits really that sensitive?”

“Yes,” I croaked as I felt her turgid buds slither provocatively through the silky cups of our corsets, “if you carry on like that you’ll bring me off.”

Simone smiled knowingly and gently kissed my stiffening buds through the lacy cups and I squeaked with pleasure. I also felt a new stirring in places that hadn’t stirred much for several years. I could only dream and hope that night but it was definitely a precursor of the shape of things to come. Soon the night overtook us and we fell asleep gently wrapped in each-other’s loving embrace.

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy 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 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.)

”ƒ

At dawn my sissy breasts woke me with the usual sensations of fullness. I wanted to linger a little longer in Simone’s soft warm embrace but eventually my needs overcame me and my nipples started to leak. I reflected that there wasn’t much time between the first sensations of fullness that invariable woke me and the onset of involuntary lactation as my breasts quickly filled up. It was almost as if every sissy from Mistress Janet’s academy had a built in alarm clock that forced her to be an early riser.

I reluctantly extricated myself from Simone’s embrace then slipped silently out of bed and padded to the milking room where I found Joanne and Janice already setting up the milking machine.

“You’re a bit late,” observed my sister.

“I was delayed by a visitor to my bed last night.” I confessed.

“And who might that be?” Joanne inquired, “as if I didn’t know.”

I smiled a little bashfully at Joanne as she sorted out the pipes on the milker and handed me my pair.

“Your sister’s nice. I didn’t think she had any feelings for me.”

“Well she has. You’ve been a bit dumb not to notice.” Joanne grinned

“You’re right, I have, but to tell the truth I thought she wouldn’t want me because of I’ve only got a modest clitty.”

“I’ve heard that it’s much better than the other sissies at Mistress Janet’s and now that you’re on the special hormones again, -”

“I know but even so, I thought, -“

“Well don’t think, next time. She’s very fond of you and if you reciprocate her advances, I’m quite sure she could grow to love you, you’re quite pretty you know.”

“D’you really think so?” I gasped hopefully.

“Are you stupid or what! Look in a mirror sometime and besides, she came to your bed last night didn’t she?”

“Well, I, - yes; but I thought.”

“You thought what?” Tinkled Janice’s sweet chuckle.

“Well I, - well to tell the truth I don’t know what I thought.”

“Well stop thinking and chat to her. She’s very fond of you and attracted to you. It’s not all about a cock you know! You silly goose!”

I took comfort from Janice and Joanne’s words and as soon as we had finished milking I returned to my bedroom. Simone was still curled up under the duvet and as my bedroom doorknob clicked softly, her bright eyes peeped out as she smiled invitingly.

“Are you coming back to bed?” She whispered.

“It’s getting late darling. I sighed. We have our final fittings for our bridesmaid’s dresses today.”

Reluctantly, Simone slithered from under the duvet and stretched out her arms as she sat up.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me then?”

I grinned like a Cheshire cat and eagerly stepped forward to push her back onto the bed. Simone needed no further encouragement and her arms embraced me passionately as our lips met in a desperate kiss. Simone giggled as she ground her pussy against my stiff cockette that was so hard it was now detectable even through the stiff skirt of my sleeping corset. Both of us whimpered with surrender and delight as we finally realised our feelings for each other and we lay for long moments until Janice’s knock distracted us.

“Come on you lovebirds, you’ll be late, the fittings are at eleven o’clock and we’ve got to drive to Miss Stern’s boutique.”

Reluctantly, Simone and I separated, slipped into Auntie Beverly’s bedroom to be unlocked from our corsets then we joined each other in the shower before finally arriving late for breakfast.

At the breakfast table several pairs of knowing eyes fell upon us as we entered self-consciously and stepped up to the sideboard to select our breakfasts. Our passions had induced a feverish hunger and heads nodded sagely as we demolished our piled plates. Auntie Beverly and Morag exchanged smiles as they recognised Simone’s and my new relationship.

Soon we were on the road to Miss Stern’s boutique and I was delighted to meet up with several school friends who were also attending as bride’s maids.

There were also several new faces that I had never seen before but after formal introductions, we learned that these young ladies were cousins from Auntie Jamie’s side of the family and despite the protests of the earl’s brother Arnold and the ghastly nephew William, Arnold’s wife and daughters plus some second cousins, were adamant that they were not going to miss out on a huge country wedding even if the bride and groom were going to wear matching bridal gowns. They considered it to be a wedding not a blessing and who were we to dissuade them?

“Besides,” as Arnold’s wife secretly confessed to Beverly, “It will be interesting to see two brides getting married and it would add to the spectacle to have all that extra lace and silk.”

Arnold’s wife was a slave to fashion and their daughters were obsessed with clothes. They wouldn’t have missed the blessing that they considered to be a ‘wedding’ for the world and they would have been seriously offended if they had not been invited as bride’s maids. Auntie Jamie’s transvestism had long been known about in the family and after learning of Auntie Beverly’s successful conception, several of the female relatives were secretly glad that the dreadful younger brother Arnold and his odious son William were not going to inherit the title. To this end, the nieces in Auntie Jamie’s family were adamant that they were going to attend as bride’s maids.

That morning there were over twenty girls and sissies gathered in the bridal section of Miss Stern’s boutique but Miranda proved to be an excellent organiser and order was maintained as each girl sighed with delight when their dresses proved to fit perfectly.

“I just don’t know how she does it,” sighed Arnold’s wife Elaine as the girls were soon arranged by height and age, “at my cousin’s wedding the bride’s maids were little horrors. Your little girls are such peachy and obedient little darlings.”

Auntie Beverly nodded sagely to her ‘soon to be’ auntie.

“It’s Miranda, she’s a perfect whizz at organisation and it helps that Miss Stern is a fantastic seamstress and dressmaker.”

“Yes, your gown is so beautiful. Oh look out, here comes the groom, he mustn’t see your gown!”

My Auntie Beverly let out a chuckle.

“Steady on Elaine, Jamie is wearing an identical gown; she’s come here for her final fitting with me.”

Elaine let out a squeal of delighted, embarrassed laughter as she remembered.

“Oh gosh! Of course, yes. I clean forgot. Here he is.”

“We refer to her as 'she' Auntie,” corrected Beverly as she patted Auntie Elaine to reassure her.

“Oop’s, sorry. This feminine pronoun thing flummoxes me.”

“Oh you’ll get used to it,” replied my Auntie Beverly as she turned to hug and kiss her intended partner.”

My great aunt Elaine’s eye widened momentarily then she smiled eagerly as Miss Stern invited both brides and Auntie Elaine into the bridal boudoir. We bride’s maids were left to entertain ourselves and I fell to chatting to my ‘soon-to-be’ new cousins.

“Is it true?” Asked the oldest girl who was very attractive.

“Is what true?” I replied.

“About you and some of the other girls being boys.”

“Not boys darling, we’re sissies. Yes, I’m a sissy, just like Auntie Jamie.”

“Who are the others?”

“Why, can’t you tell?”

“No,” confessed my new cousin-to-be.

“Well then it’s not an issue then is it. There are about six sissies here today but they won’t harm you and they were no trouble in the fitting rooms were they?”

“Well, no; not really, I just thought.”

“Well let’s not worry about it. Sissies behave like perfect ladies and they’re always nice to real girls. It’s how we’re taught. Shall we go and indulge ourselves in those delicious cakes that Miranda’s just brought in?”

My cousin-to-be’s eyes lit up appreciatively and we joined the queue for the tea and tab nabs. As we chatted, I learned that my new cousin’s name was Jeanette and she was fascinated by the idea of sissies. She wanted me to expose my clitty but I coquettishly refused. It just didn’t do for a young sissy to make herself vulnerable to strangers. I suggested that Jeanette speak to Miranda and she gasped with astonishment when she learned that Miranda was a sissy.

“But she’s just so feminine!”

“That’s what sissydom is about my dear. Come along. Miranda is older and wiser and she’s not ashamed to reveal her sissy secrets.”

“How do you know?” Gulped Jeanette.

“We go way back. Miranda first fitted me for my corset.”

“Yes, I was going to ask you about that as well. Your waist is fabulous. I mean just look at you and the bodice of your gown is just so tapered.”

“Just look around you darling,” I giggled. “All the really slender waists are sissies. Sissies don’t have to worry so much about childbearing.”

“Oh. Oh yes! Now I see. That’s just so neat Michelle, thanks for the tip.”

I shrugged as we caught Miranda just as she went to assist Miss Stern in the bridal boudoir.Miranda grinned knowingly as I door-stepped her and explained Jeanette’s curiosity

“So she’s not a mistress then,” observed Miranda.

“Uhmm, no,” I replied, “she’s just a curious girl.”

“Later then. Mistress Stern needs me now.”

Jeanette’s eyes lit up salaciously. She couldn’t wait and she squeezed my hand by way of thanks. I turned to her and smiled.

“If a mistress is pleased with her sissy, I lied, “she usually gives her sissy a little peck on the cheek.”

Jeanette needed no further encouragement and eagerly took me in her arms to give me a full forced kiss on the lips. I was somewhat startled by her boldness and gasped as we finally separated. Fortunately Simone had seen the little cameo and she stepped from her group to rescue me.

“Is everything OK, Darling?”

“My surprise still registered in my startled expression for I had not expected Jeanette to be so forward nor so demonstrative.”

“Yes mistress,” I gasped, “Miss Jeanette was just thanking me for introducing her to Miranda.”

Simone quickly grasped the portent of my remarks for every sissy and girl at Mistress Janet’s academy who had ever been fitted for her uniform at Miss Sterns, knew about Miranda’s openness about her sissified body. It was often a student’s first introduction to a sissy’s anatomy. Only last year, when Simone became a pupil at Mistress Janet’s she had been shown close up by Miranda exactly what a full blown sissy’s genitalia looked like.

Her sissified brother Davinia had always been reluctant to reveal his shameful, hormone enhanced conversion.

As we bride’s maids circled around renewing acquaintances and making new friends we were finally alerted by Miranda’s reappearance.

“Now ladies, please form an avenue of bride’s maids in the order I showed you.”

Apart from some of the very youngest girls, (who didn’t seem to be the full shilling,) we quickly assembled into two lines as we had been instructed. Miranda gently guided the same two youngest girls (I supposed it was due to inbreeding,) to the front and then instructed us all to turn and face the brides. Finally My Aunties Beverly and Jamie emerged shimmering in the most delightful and spectacular gowns. Behind them Miss Stern and Auntie Elaine had temporarily gathered up the trains. We all gasped and sighed in unison for the site was an absolute picture. The brides then walked slowly between the avenue of Bride’s maids and Miss Stern demonstrated exactly how each bride’s maid was to hold the train. Eventually all twenty bride’s maids were holding each bride’s train, five to each side and chattering eagerly as we savoured the rich delightful texture of the silk. Miss Stern then clapped her hands to gather our attentions.

“Right young ladies, this is the order you will take when you proceed down the aisle. This afternoon there will be a dress rehearsal in the church. Now take off your dresses and give them to Miranda to pack.”

We reluctantly stepped out of our dresses and stood in our lingerie as Miranda collected each dress and carefully hung it on a trolley rail. As we stood around in our frillies, Jamie’s nieces couldn’t help staring at our pretty satin corsets and tiny waists. Jeanette immediately approached me as I stood chatting to Joanne and Julia in our corsets and stockings.

“Gosh those are nice corsets! So the girls are wearing the same as well?”

Julia turned and smiled at Jeanette and nodded.

“Yes. D’you like them?”

“Yes. I thought you’d be wearing long, stiff, boned, black, ugly things. These are really pretty; they’re like ballerina’s tutus.”

“Well they’re stiff and boned darling but as for long and black, that’s for school uniforms, these pretty colours are for special occasions. They’re nothing to do with school; Aunties Jamie and Beverly chose these. D’you really like them?”

“Gosh yes. They’re really pretty. I like the coloured lacy edging.”

“Yes, green for us sissies and pink for the girls. Well if you really like them, go and speak to Miranda. She’s got a whole warehouse of them locked away down that corridor.”

Julia had barely finished speaking before Jeanette span and pattered eagerly across the room to accost Miranda. I couldn’t help
but notice Julia’s admiring eyes as she studied Jeanette’s swaying butt.

“She’s pretty isn’t she?” I observed teasingly.

“I should say so. It’s a pity she’s not a pupil of Mistress Janet’s. I don’t suppose she’s interested in sissies.”

“You never know Julia, don’t forget, you’re like Joanne, you’ve still got a proper pee-pee. Make a play for her. They’re all staying with us at Earl Weston’s house for the week as house guests.”

“Gosh that’ll be a squeeze,” observed Julia.

“Have you seen Earl Weston’s house?” Chuckled Joanne.

“No,” Julia replied, “I came straight up from the school with the others on the train this morning.”

“Well you’re in for a treat, for you’ll each have your own bedroom and you’ll have all week until the wedding next Saturday to work your magic on Jeanette.”

“Gosh, is it sort of, a country house thing.”

“Yes, and then some,” I added. “It’s huge. Lots of bedrooms and all the space in the world to find your own quiet corner. Normally the old earl used to rattle around in the place like a pebble in a drum but he’s absolutely enthralled that his son Jamie is marrying my Auntie Beverly. The earl’s even hired extra staff to do the catering and stuff. It’ll be fantastic to see the earl’s old pile being used like it used to be."

Julia smiled as she stepped into her school visiting frock and I deftly zipped her in. Soon we were all dressed and bound back to the little village church to run through the dress rehearsal. Several villagers turned out to watch the preparations but happily there were no smutty remarks or offensive gestures. The earl was well loved amongst the older inhabitants of the old village for he had allowed the villagers to purchase their own homes from the estate if they wished under the leasehold reform act. Jamie had also been a popular, well liked child and when he had finally come out as a transvestite bisexual most of his true friends and acquaintances were supportive. The whole village was pleased that Auntie Jamie was marrying my Auntie Beverly for they all knew and disliked Arnold, the old earl’s younger brother.

The dress rehearsal went off without a hitch thanks to Miranda’s organisation and Vicar Rachel’s permission to use the vestry as a changing room. By the late afternoon the rehearsal was complete and we had strolled across the estate back to the earl’s old pile. After a late afternoon tea we started sorting out sleeping arrangements so with a little judicious suggestion to Auntie Jamie and Auntie Beverly, I managed to wangle it so that Jeanette and Julia slept in adjoining bedrooms.

Julia had brought her own portable milking machine because she was a super-milker and she was setting it up in her bathroom when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Who is it?” Called Julia as she closed her bathroom door to hide the apparatus.

“It’s me, Jeanette.”

“What d’you want?”

“Has your bedroom got a bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Can I use it please? Mine’s locked because my father is in the adjoining bedroom on the other side. He expects me to use the one down the hall.”

Julia wondered why Jeanette’s father William should be so selfish as to deny his own daughter the use of a shared bathroom but concluded that the stories about Cousin William’s odious nature were true.

In truth nobody had really wanted the Earl’s younger brother Arnold and his son William to attend the blessing but it would have been impossible for the earl to invite his sister in law and his niece in law Elaine and all the girls without inviting Arnold and William. For a long moment, Julia was split about what to do. Finally she capitulated after Jeanette had pleaded urgently.

“Pleease! I’m bursting and there’s a queue for the one down the hall.”

“OK, come in but wait until I have put away my stuff in the bathroom.”

Jeanette almost fell through the door in her desperation to relieve herself and Julia was caught off her guard. She tried to delay Jeanette until she could hide her milking apparatus behind the shower curtain but Jeanette’s needs compelled her to ignore all the conventions of good behaviour and she lunged for the bathroom before Julia could properly hide the milking machine. Julia was just lifting the machine into the shower cubicle as Jeanette burst in whilst tugging down her knickers as she lunged for the toilet seat. With a gasp of relief, her water exploded from her bladder and splashed noisily into the pan.

“Oooh! That’s better, thanks Julia, I almost wet my knickers. My dad’s a real tyrant, denying me access to my own bathroom.He's got his own on the other side but he makes mum use that. He's just a bloody bully!”

Julia re-emerged from behind the curtain and frowned.

“Speak to Earl Weston. He’ll soon put that odious bully in his place. It’s Earl Weston’s house and he makes the rules.”

“But it’s my mother and my father on the other side. It would only make it embarrassing for my mother. Can I use your loo in future?”

Reluctantly, Julia agreed and she debated whether to remain in the bathroom until Jeanette had completed her toilet.

Unfortunately Jeanette had not been brought up in a very liberal manner and she was very self conscious about her toilet habits. Julia sensed Jeanette’s embarrassment so she reluctantly vacated the bathroom. Naturally Jeanette was curious about what Julia had been hiding in the shower. After washing her hands she peeped around the curtain and spotted the compact milking machine in its carry case. Fortunately the case was locked but this only piqued Jeanette’s curiosity further. When she emerged from the bathroom she tackled Julia about it.

“What’s that little carry-case you put in the shower?”

Julia debated lying but decided against it. All the regular members of the household knew about the sissy herd so she concluded that there could be no harm done.

“I’ve got a lactation condition and I have to express my breasts.”

“What? What d’you mean?”

“My breasts; they produce milk and I have to express them regularly.”

“Oh my God! That sounds weird! I thought somebody said you were some sort of sissy.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You mean you’re really a boy, under that frock.”

“Yes.”

“But your tits, - your tits make milk!”

“Yes.”

“Crickey that must be really weird. How do they do that?”

“Just like any other tits. What else are tits for?”

Jeanette gave a coquettish smile and gently fingered her own nipples which immediately started to respond. As they grew under the soft satiny cups of her underwired bra Julia could not help but notice their turgid arousal through Jeanette’s flimsy tight-fitting blouse.

“Are you getting turned on?” Croaked Julia nervously.

“Yes. A bit.” The idea of a boy, a sissy, - performing the mother’s sacred duty, - well, it gets my juices flowing. How often do you have to express your milk?”

Julia was quietly relieved that Jeanette did not seem too phased by her revelation so she came clean.

“Uuhm, - three times a day.”

“Three! But a cow only get’s milked twice a day. You must produce gallons!”

“No darling, just litres.”

“Oh crickey! This is really cool! How many litres?”

“Uuhm about four and half per day, that is one and a half at each milking.”

“Yeah, I can do the maths. That’s just really neat. Can I see the machine?”

“Not now. After dinner maybe. The other sissies will be milking now, but they only get milked twice a day. Because I’m a super milker, the third session is a bit later for me. I milk myself after dinner.”

“Can I watch?”

Julia sensed that allowing Jeanette to watch might just induce an intimacy that suited Julia’s own ends. As she was also one of the very few of Mistress Janet’s sissies who had been allowed to keep her normal sized penis, Julia was well able to indulge in normal heterosexual relations. Jeanette would not feel threatened watching a feminised little sissy lactating but the intimacy might lead to nicer things if Julia played her cards right. Pretending reluctance, Julia agreed to allow Jeanette to watch her evening milking session.

To this end the pair spent the time before dinner trying out makeup ideas and once again, Jeanette was intrigued.

“This is just so fab. A sissy boyfriend who knows all about makeup.”

Julia’s heart sang with joy as Jeanette used the word ‘boyfriend’ but she hid her feelings and continued testing various foundations on Jeanette’s flawless skin.

“D’you know, you don’t need foundation cream, your skin’s just perfect.”

Jeanette bathed in the compliment. It was just so cool to have a boyfriend that understood all the feminine needs and uncertainties of a girl burgeoning upon her young adulthood and boys. Because Jeanette had such an awful male role model in her tyrannical father, she was terrified of boys. Her father William had not made matters any easier for his daughters by painting boys in such a threatening, overbearing, selfish light. Jeanette’s only brother was still only six and already their father treated him like some sort of little tin god compared with the daughters. Jeanette’s image of boys was seriously flawed but this strange sissy, this beautiful feminised boy who presented absolutely no threat, was a wonder that Jeanette could not keep away from.

Jeanette was becoming enchanted and entranced as Julia applied her excellent makeup skills to Jeanette’s flawless canvass of a face.

“You know, you’re really pretty,” announced Julia as she deftly beautified Jeanette’s face; “you only really need some eye colour and lippy. You’re just so lucky.”

“What about my hair?” Jeanette sighed as she ran her fingers through the long, light brown tresses. ”I wish I was blond like Michelle.”

“Well that can easily be arranged. Michelle’s a whizz with hair. She’s just a natural. We can speak to your mum after I’ve milked.”

“Can we? The trouble is my mum will only ask my dad and he’ll say no.”

“Oh don’t worry. This blessing is the same as a wedding and only the women have a say about weddings. The men just do as they’re told. Believe me, you wait and see. By the time Auntie Bev and Auntie Jamie and your mum have worked on your dad, he won’t know if he’s Arthur or Martha. We can easily say that all the bride’s maids have to have blond hair to bring balance to the pageant, and your dad won’t have a clue.

“But that’s not true,” sighed Jeanette.

“Of course it isn’t, but your dad won’t know that. Men are total idiots when it comes to style and fashion. Don’t you ever go shopping with your mum?”

“All the time, but dad never comes. He goes off shooting pheasant or to watch rugby or stupid football every Saturday. We only ever see him at dinner times on the weekends.”

“Well mark my words, this blessing is a virtual wedding, he’ll have to fall in with whatever the memsahib’s say.”

“Why are men such stupid beasts?” Jeanette sighed again.

“I don’t know darling, I’m just a sissy. Now keep still while I do your nails. It’s a very light Parisian pink and your dad won’t even notice it.”

Jeanette was well into her tirade against men and continued as Julia perfected her nail-polish.

“Why do the stupid beasts agree to the wedding plans laid out by the women then? It’s hardly worth their coming to a wedding.”

“Ah, your wrong there love. A wedding is the culmination of the rut. It’s when the stag finally gets to service the hind; the stallion finally gets to couple with the mare. Men will do anything to get inside a girl’s knickers, even marry them if that’s what it takes. Men don’t know it, but it’s in their genes to want children and the only way they can do that and legitimately claim the offspring as their own then they have to make some sort of commitment. For them it’s all about the sex, for the girls it’s all about the courting. It’s the females who really rule the mating rituals of most mammals. Ipso facto, we girls decide the rules for the wedding.”

“We girls! D’you consider yourself to be a girl then.”

“I look like a girl, I sound like a girl, I milk like a girl, so I am a girl.”

“Except for one delightful little difference. I wish all men were like you. You’re just so sweet and you understand girly stuff.”

“Why thank you ma-am. That’s the nicest thing you could say to a sissy. Are you trying to charm me out of my panties?”

“I wish; are you trying to charm me out of mine?”

Julia fell silent and made a feint stab at tidying up Jeanette’s hair. She gave up and confessed that she would have to ask me, Michelle, to help.

“She can come in and try out some styles whilst I’m milking.” Julia suggested.

“What! While you’re actually doing it.”

“Yes. Michelle’s a milker; she’s seen me milking lots of times. She’s probably just finished doing her own as we speak. Ooh look, it’s nearly time for dinner, come on.”

Jeanette checked her appearance one last time in the mirror and Julia smiled over her shoulder.

“Come on gorgeous. You’re beautiful enough, let’s eat.”

Jeanette wanted to kiss Julia there and then, ‘the girl was just so nice,’ she thought.

In the corridor they bumped into Jeanette’s parents and her father frowned.

“You’re wearing make up.”

“Yes,” replied Julia boldly. “She’s practising for the wedding. We’ve all got to look our best.”

The man harrumphed disagreeably but he was forced to let the situation pass. He could not create a scene in the corridor as other wedding guests were emerging for dinner.

At the meal table, Julia came to me and asked me to speak to Auntie Beverly about matching hair styles, or at least matching hair colours. Later I approached Auntie Bev.

“It’s all in hand darling.” Auntie Bev reassured me. “On Friday and Thursday, all the girls will be going to the hair dressers.
Why do you ask?”

“Jeanette wants to try blond now but she’s afraid of her dad Uncle William.”

“Leave Uncle William to us women darling. I’ll speak to him after dinner.”

And so it came to be. I have no idea what Auntie Beverly and Auntie Jamie said to Uncle William or Great Uncle Arnold but after dinner, Jeanette’s mother Elaine approached me and told me it would be OK for us girls to experiment with hair dye. I smiled graciously and suppressed my resentment that she should think I would be ‘experimenting.’ I had long since become an expert hair stylist and knew my way around assorted hair colouring techniques and styling techniques. Nevertheless it was good news and I bundled into Julia’s bedroom just as Julia was demonstrating to Jeanette about the milking. Jeanette was a little surprised at how casual we were about our milking activities but she quickly came to accept the situation as Julia sat beside her at the dressing table while the machine clicked away as it emptied her breasts.

I of course simply started into Jeanette’s hair as the three of us chatted casually and soon Jeanette was waiting patiently for the hair dye to take effect. During the interim, Jeanette watched fascinated as Julia’s milk splashed into the bottles until she had nearly finished. Inevitably, Jeanette wondered what it tasted like so Julia casually detached the teat and offered her breast to Jeanette.

Jeanette glanced nervously towards me but I simply shrugged and smiled.

“Don’t mind me. Newcomers always want to taste it. Go ahead, don’t be shy.”

Thus reassured, Jeanette turned to the proffered breast and delicately took the stiff dripping bud between her lips. For the first few sucks, Jeanette was too hesitant and her tentative efforts only served to tickle Julia’s tit. Julia twitched and giggled.

“You’ll have to suck harder than that love, she’s nearly empty.”

Jeanette needed little encouragement and then sucked forcibly on the stiff pink bud. Julia sighed contentedly as the remains of her milk finally succumbed to Jeanette’s efforts and she savoured the warm fluid in her mouth. Finally, Julia’s tit ran dry and Jeanette was forced to relinquish her attachment. As she sat back she smiled appreciatively.

“It’s quite sweet.”

“Yes, sissy milk is rather special. Did you like it?”

“Mmm. Yes. Can I try again tomorrow morning?”

Julia and I exchanged knowing glances, ‘could Jeanette have already become addicted after only one brief suckling?’ we wondered. We stayed and chatted for an hour or so then finally, Jeanette and I bid Julia good night.

That night, Julia had a visitor though she was not surprised. Jeanette’s curiosity had extended from the milk issue to other curious circumstances surrounding Julia’s bisexual anatomy. Within minutes of entering Julia’s bed, Jeanette was groping eagerly under Julia’s sleeping corset.

She was to be disappointed however for despite getting her hand upon the lump in the corset that indicated Julia’s delicious, erect organ, there was no way she could unlock the boned corset and release the friendly weapon for other pleasures.

“God!” She muttered as she fumbled ineffectively. “You sissies must be the most frustrated little darlings in the world. When we grow up I’m going to let you live without a corset and you’ll be free to see to me all the time.”

“Ooh I wouldn’t like that darling,” objected Julia, “we sissies wouldn’t be at all comfortable without our corsets because they support our upper bodies and ease the strain of our breasts from our shoulders. Our shoulders aren’t as strong as boys, see, we sissies have got slender delicate shoulders just like you girls.”

Julia ran her fingers over her soft slender shoulders and shivered as her sensitive skin responded to her own touch. Jeanette’s eyes widened with delight as she realised just how sensitive and responsive sissies were.

“I’m definitely going to look after you once we get married!”

Julia’s eyes widened hopefully, if she could win this beautiful gentle girl as a mistress to share her adult life, she might yet avoid the sometimes cruel fate that befell Mistress Janet’s sissies.

It did not often end up that way but the risk was ever present and Julia secretly dreaded ending up as the sissy maid of some cruel and demanding mistress.

‘If only, - if only she and Jeanette could really become sissy and mistress.’ She silently prayed.

“So with these beauties, you can’t run around and jump like other boys then.” Wondered Jeanette as she gently fondled Julia’s soft ripe globes.

“Goodness no darling,” replied Julia, “sissies don’t misbehave like rambunctious boys. Sissies are taught to behave like genteel little ladies. Besides, how could I run and jump with these lovely puppies?”

“Yes indeed,” sighed Jeanette, “so you wouldn’t be one of these awful men who abandon their wives to go and play football or rugby or golf or something, every weekend?”

“Darling, how could I possibly play rugby with these tits? Anyway, sissies far prefer shopping.”

“Oh good,” whispered Jeanette contentedly, “besides, we’ll have delightful fun buying you new bras for these, - these, - well, they’re not puppies," giggled Jeanette as she fondled Julia’s spectacular breasts, “they’re Great Danes!”

So saying, she latched contentedly onto one of Julia’s delightful nipples and she was soon fast asleep. Julia twitched with delight as Jeanette’s ministrations sent delightful tingles to her smooth, rock-hard, hairless, sissy cock.

‘If only I could release my pee-pee,’ thought Julia. ‘Still the very thought of one day ending up as Jeanette’s sissy,’ was enough to send her into a contented restful sleep.

The following morning, Jeanette’s mother Elaine checked Jeanette’s bedroom then quickly discovered her daughter wrapped in Julia’s embrace. She quickly woke them.

“What on earth are you two doing sleeping together? Get out of there immediately before your father catches you!"

Jeanette tried to object but her mother was also too afraid of the overbearing William to risk invoking his wrath.

“I won’t hear of it you young tramp. Now out of there immediately!”

“That’s not fair, Joanne and Janice are sleeping together and so are Michelle and Simone. Nothing can happen, they’re sissies!”

“I know perfectly well what that side of the family are like but we are not all perverts!”

“If they are perverts then I am also a pervert. I like Julia and nothing’s happened. Look, Julia can’t do anything!”

“Yes, well even if he can’t, that doesn’t give you a licence to behave like a tramp. Come on! Out of there!”

“She! Mummy, - she! Julia is a she!” Protested Jeanette.

“If you don’t come out of here this instant, I’ll, - I’ll, - I’ll call your father!”

Jeanette turned to Julia and sighed as her mother returned to the corridor to keep an eye out for her overbearing husband.

“That’s just typical of my mum. She’s so afraid of my father that she even gets the logic wrong in her head. The last thing she wants is for my father to find out about you and me because there would be a hell of a row, but she still uses him as a threat.”

“You’d better go,” observed Julia, “if he’s that bad, he could cause a horrible scene.”

“He’s a selfish brute. He expects me to find some stupid, witless, titled buffoon and marry back into the land-owning gentry.

He still thinks he should be inheriting the title and all this estate. He thinks that Uncle Jamie’s marriage to Beverly was some sort of sham just to deny what he always presumed to be his after Uncle Jamie came out as a gay. Dad’s totally homophobic and this blessing thing has sent him over the edge, I wouldn’t be surprised if he caused some sort of scene at the church.”

“Well in that case you’d better go to your mum right now. I couldn’t face your dad, if he’s that sort of a bully.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find some way of getting back with you. He can’t watch me all day long.”

Reluctantly the two parted and Jeanette shuffled back to her own room. As a gesture of defiance Jeanette banged loudly on the shared bathroom door and demanded that her father give up the bathroom so that she could get showered. In this demand she had a reluctant ally in her mother Elaine. She was timid about supporting her daughter but eventually managed to persuade the overbearing William to change his mind.

She did not explain about her reasons but in truth Elaine was rather concerned for her daughter Jeanette because it was the first intimation that Jeanette might be batting for the other side. Elaine was quite uptight about sexuality and she had not yet properly realised that Julia’s and Jeanette’s relationship was actually heterosexual. Julia was one of the exceptional sissies from Mistress Janet’s Academy who had not had her penis altered by drugs. Julia could screw and Jeanette wanted to get laid.
By mid morning, further arrangements for the blessing went ahead.

Auntie Jamie and Auntie Beverly had agreed that all the bridesmaids were to have blond hair even though they sported different styles. The boorish Uncle William was forced to allow his other younger daughters to have their hair dyed just like their elder sister Jeanette.

It took me the full two days until Friday before my work was done on all the girls and then even Uncle William was forced to concede that his daughters looked stunning. He turned to me and reluctantly conceded.

“I didn’t think you were fit for anything what with you being one of those weird sissies, but you’ve not done a bad job on my girls.”

I just smiled becomingly and bit my tongue to avoid saying anything nasty back. Whilst I had worked on their hair, each one of Uncle William’s daughters confessed that they were afraid of him.

Auntie Beverly had warned me that it was better to try and keep the peace at least until after the blessing. I was beginning to detest Uncle William and I had not failed to notice the flickering light of salacious curiosity in Uncle William’s sinister smile.

“This one would need watching,’ I thought, ‘was that some sort of predatory glint I had just noticed?’

By Friday morning the mood in the big house had risen to fever pitch as blessing preparations went apace. Few of us slept that night.

The blessing for the wedding goes ahead and Michelle gets an invitation to become a hair stylist in New York.

---

Yeah!! In yer face an' having one hell of a wild time. Long live Sparkle, long live Manchester!

The Sissy farm.
Chapter 24.

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
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.

Nearly everybody in the house was up before dawn that Saturday morning. My services were in demand by all the bride’s maids as everybody wanted their hair touched up and checked out to be just perfect for the wedding. This all had to be done before ten o’clock because a professional hairdresser was coming to the house to do Aunties’ Beverly and Jamie’s hair. I was required to be on hand to learn some new tricks and techniques because the hairdresser was a famous stylist from New York. Auntie Beverly had emailed him some photographs of my work and he had agreed that I showed promise. To this end I was invited to be his assistant during the session. I was thrilled. However, until ten o’clock, I was as busy as all hell putting the finishing touches to twenty girls and sissies who were all naturally in a high state of excitement. By ten thirty I was shattered and slumped at the breakfast table hardly able even to face a glass of orange juice after a small piece of toast and some scrambled egg. I was still in my ordinary work frock as Aunties Beverly and Jamie arrived in the breakfast room each on the arm of the old earl.

“Aren’t your dressed yet darling?” Wondered Auntie Beverly.

“I’ve been too busy. When’s Andre the hair-dresser coming?”

“He’s just phoned. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

I smiled a little wearily and just nodded as I finished my orange juice and slumped back in my chair. Before I realised it I was asleep at the table.

“Good god!” Mumbled old Earl Weston. “The poor little darling is shattered. You’ve been overworking her!”

Auntie Beverly came to my chair and studied me carefully.

“She’s just tired with all the excitement. Besides, she’s enjoyed all the hair dressing. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be OK.”

Earl Weston harrumphed his concern and finished his egg. Nobody was eating much in anticipation of the wedding breakfast. Indeed only the earl and I had eaten anything.

Eventually there was a commotion in the hall and Auntie’s Beverly and Jamie fussed about as Andre arrived. Earl Weston gently tapped me on the shoulder and bent down to smile encouragement to me.

“Waky-waky, sleepy head, the hair-dresser’s arrived.”

I stirred and yawned then realised I had been sleeping.

“Oh gosh. Have I missed him?”

Old Earl Weston smiled and bent down to kiss me gently on the forehead.

“No, no darling. Don’t worry. They’re still setting up all the paraphernalia. I didn’t realise just how much fuss there was to ladies hair. I made them let you sleep a little longer. I explained to Andre. He’s very impressed with the work you’ve done for the bride’s maids. Go in now, Andre is just discussing styles. I believe that’s an important part isn’t it?”

I gasped as I realised that they had started the most important bit. Aunty Bev and I had discussed styles all week and I didn’t want to miss Andre’s thoughts. I stumbled passed my adoptive great uncle to be and burst into the morning room where Andre had set up shop.

He smiled as I arrived gasping for breath.

“Sorry I’m late. Sorry!”

He smiled again and nodded as Aunties Jamie and Beverly sat studying his style books.

“Not to worry young lady. I’ve already seen how much you’ve done today. You’ve been a busy little miss. Well done. The bride’s maids look excellent. You’re good.”

I sighed and relaxed as he put me at ease. For an acolyte to arrive late at the master’s workbench was an unforgivable sin. Thus reassured he led me to the brides and we fell to discussing styles. Auntie Beverly expressed her wishes and described how she and I had been discussing stuff all week. Andre smiled and studied our favoured choices then we all agreed upon a style that I had secretly fancied all week. I felt a very private visceral thrill that I had been in agreement with Andre’s suggestion but I kept my counsel. It wouldn’t do to appear as though I approved Andre’s suggestion but I was secretly ecstatic that we had the same ideas. For the rest of the session, I eagerly danced attention as Andre set to work.

By twelve o’clock Aunties Beverly and Jamie looked a picture and I sighed enviously as I turned to clear up the mess. To my surprise Andre turned to me and grinned.

“So who’s going to do you hair young miss?”

“I, - I’ll, - I’m going up to my bedroom to sort it out.”

“Don’t be silly my little sweetheart. Let this be my treat. Why shouldn’t your hair be as lovely as everybody else’s?”

My eyes widened with surprised delight as I turned gratefully to Auntie Bev. I had been wondering about my own hair and concluded that mine would have to be a bit of a self-made, rush job. Auntie Beverly wagged her head.

“It wasn’t my idea Bev, Andre’s suggested it. You’ve been a star this morning so you deserve a special treat.”

My eyes widened even further with delight. To have earned so much praise from a veritable international grand-master of the tonsorial arts was praise indeed.

My heart thumped with delight as he motioned me into his chair while his scissors snipped industriously in the air to indicate his preparedness. To have the great Andre actually doing my hair was the best thank you Auntie Beverly could have made. Both the brides left as Andre set to on my hair and we chatted contentedly. He pointed out a few things about caring for my hair as he chuckled.

“Your hair’s a lovely colour and type but I think you’ve been neglecting it a bit haven’t you.”

“There’s nobody to do it for me. I do everybody else’s but I’m afraid it’s cobbler’s children walking ill shod, for me.”

“We’ll let this be my treat then. I’ll make it an easy style to maintain and I’ll go through it as I work.”

Thus we chatted and chuckled as Andre busied himself away and I lay back with my eyes closed contentedly prepared to not bother looking until Andre was ready. Eventually, the scissors had stopped and Andre put down the blower.

“You can look now.”

Nervously I opened my eyes and gasped at the creation. It was just so simple and yet fantastic. I simply wanted to hug Andre for ever and ever. For a brief moment tears of joy betrayed my elation and Andre asked solicitously.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Why yes! Yes! Yes! Of course I like it. It’s just super. And it’s so simple. I mean the way it sets off my forehead and yet, and yet, it doesn’t make me look like an egg-head, a highbrow. It’s just super. I, - I love these curls. Will I have to keep setting them with the curlers?

“That’s about the only bit of work that will need any attention. The rest of it just falls naturally over your shoulders. You’ve got lovely hair Michelle. It’s so long and silky and straight. Even if you decide to take those two ringlets out they will simply add to the rest of the natural fall of your hair. You’ve got a beautiful head of hair. It’s just so full of bounce and sheen. Can I take a photograph?”

“What for?”

“To put in my style portfolio. Here see.”

He stepped across to a laptop computer and promptly showed me a whole series of hairstyles. I quickly recognised the famous models and squeaked with surprise.

“But, they’re proper models, I mean, why d’you want, -?”

“You’ve got a model’s looks Michelle. You could be one of those girls. You’ve got the figure for it and your face has a classic beauty.”

“But, - but Andre! I’m a sis, - I’m a sissy! I mean, - what would people say?”

“Don’t put yourself down so much darling. You’re a stunning looker. I mean I fancied you as soon as you came through that door looking all harassed and weary after doing nineteen other girl’s hair. It’s a pity you’re a sissy though. Otherwise, I could really fancy you.”

I swallowed hard. I had naturally assumed that Andre was gay, now he had stunned me by revealing that he was a straight as a die.

“But I thought you, - you were g, - g, - gay!”

“Wrong on that one Michelle. I like girls and I get to meet all the famous beautiful ones. Are you gay?”

His direct question caught me off balance for a moment. I wasn’t gay, I was just a sissy. I like girls, in fact I liked them so much I wanted to emulate them in everything, but as to my sexual orientation, well, the plain truth was that I was a heterosexual, transvestite sissy.

I loved girls and being a sissy gave me a splendid opportunity to enjoy every aspect of girls’ companionship and friendship. I really hoped to become Simone’s sissy and her partner for life.

I know this was a bizarre perspective but the idea of serving Mistress Simone in every intimate detail of our shared life was simply my whole ambition. That’s what sissies wanted, well; - that’s what this sissy wanted and I knew for a fact that that was what Joanne and Julia wanted. They had made their sexuality abundantly clear. I finally spluttered out my answer to Andre.

“N, - no! I’m not gay. I’m just a sissy. I like girls.”

“Yes, that’s what your auntie Beverly told me. I cant quite get my head around it but I know it takes all sorts. Well, if you ever want to study under me, you’re welcome to come and work at my New York Salon.”

“I’d love to but I’d have to get all sorts of permissions from my Auntie Beverly and from Simon; and I’d have to leave school, - and I’d need a work permit, a green card.”

“Well, the offer stands. You’re a talented hair stylist and I’d love to have you under my wing for a few years. Some of those styles you did with the bride’s maids were very creative. One or two of them would have tested my skills they were so unfortunately ugly. Give me a bell if you ever decide to come over to New York. I know you’re still young yet but I can wait.”
I sat stunned at Andre’s generous offer.

“You mean, I don’t have to say now, I can let it wait a bit?”

“Take as long as you like. Talent like your is hard to come by. You’ve got the gift; - the touch. Now you’d better go and get dressed or you’ll miss the wedding.”

I looked at the clock and squealed with fright.

“Oh my God. I’ve got to go, I’m late!”

Andre chuckled and held the door open for me as I scurried towards my room.

“Look there goes the minibus with the other bride’s maids; I’ll give you a lift to the church.”

I shouted my thanks even as I burst into my room and dived into my bride’s maid’s gown. Within minutes I was ready and Andre grinned as I re-emerged like a butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon.

“Well that was quick, you’re good Michelle, you’re really good. And not too much makeup either. Yes, you’re good.”

“Come on I’m late.”

Without further ado, we leapt into his car and sped down the drive to the church. It was only a couple of hundred yards but Victoria and Sophia gasped with relief as I finally arrived. Victoria was maitre-de for all the bride’s maids and she had been fretting nervously until I finally appeared.

“Well thank God! Where the hell have you been? Oh! Your hair looks lovely. Did you do that?”

“Uuhh no.” I conceded. “How could I do something like this to myself?”

Victoria’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Did Andre do it?

“Uuhh, yes.”

“Ahh that’s not fair. He could have done ours as well.”

“Well truthfully there wasn’t time after Aunties’ Bev and Jamie. I was going to do my own but Andre did it for me as a treat. He said it’s a way of saying ‘thank you’ for helping out with all the other bride’s maids and helping with Aunties’ Bev and Jamie.

“Aahh. That’s not fair; trust you to get the master.”

“I didn’t ask. He just offered. I was going to do my own but he absolutely refused to hear of it.”

“Huh! Some people get all the luck. Anyway here’s your bouquet. Quickly now, go and join the others in the vestry.”

As I skipped into the vestry I could see both Victoria and Sophia eyeing my hair enviously but I was quickly involved in lining up to assist the brides with their trains. Then the music struck up and we were marched out to meet the brides as they arrived and to assist with their trains in the churchyard outside the main porch before entering the church. Auntie Beverly’s relatives assisted with her train while Auntie Jamie’s relatives assisted her and the unrelated girls went as directed by Victoria as she and Sophia concluded the procession. To my surprise instead of simply marching down the aisle to the alter, both brides stopped to chat with friends and savour the occasion as we all got to enjoy the portent of the occasion. It helped to improve the mood of the occasion whilst also increasing the build up of excitement. We bride’s-maids soon got into the mood and we had a delicious time chattering to family members who seemed to have sprung out of the woodwork upon learning of Jamie Weston’s sudden and unexpected decision to confirm and bless his union and finally taking a partner. The news that the transvestite, bisexual Jamie was to dress in a bridal gown matching that of his bride had sent the tribal tom-toms thundering through the titled classes of England. Just about any individual who had the remotest connection to Earl Weston’s family had sought to get an invitation to what had become the county wedding of the year. For Janice and me however, the strangest site was to see Uncle Penny dressed as a ‘sister of the bride’ as she escorted Auntie Beverly down the aisle.

To our delight, the mood amongst the congregation was entirely supportive except of course for Earl Weston’s younger brother Arnold and his odious son William. They simply stared fixedly towards the alter as the bridal couple approached. Janice and I sensed their feelings of supposed aggrievement for we were next to each other on the inside of the two bridal trains and we were free to chat.

“They looked pretty pissed of,” I whispered to Janice.

“So would you if you knew that you stood to lose a huge inheritance not to mention a title.”

“D’you think they’ll make a fuss or something; you know, when Vicar Rachel asks ‘if anybody here objects to the blessing’?”

“Naa-ah,” shrugged Janice dismissively, “It’s all legal, and it’s a fait accompli. Auntie Jamie’s already married to Auntie Beverly. That’s what their wedding certificate says and that’s how it is. Besides, Auntie Jamie’s already got Auntie Bev up the duff, what more proof d’you want?”

I started to giggle and Auntie Beverly turned around to smile at me as she stopped chatting to some long lost cousin of Auntie Jamie’s.

“What’s the joke Michelle?”

“Oh nothing Auntie, Janice and I were just looking at Cousin William and his dad. They look really pissed!”

“Well they can’t do anything” Auntie Bev assured me, “fifty years ago they might have been able to claim that our babies were illegitimate or something but today, DNA can confirm their legitimacy. The twins are Jamie’s you can be sure.”

“That’s why the greedy sods look so pissed,” I grinned.

“They won’t do anything anyway, Elaine’s got them hogtied over a barrel. If they spoil her daughters’ big day as bride’s maids to Cousin Jamie she’s sworn to divorce William. I think their marriage is pretty shaky anyway, William’s a bully.”

“Touch锝 finished Janice as Auntie Bev finally got a discreet nod from Vicar Rachel to get a move on towards the alter.

With this instruction both ‘brides’ picked up the pace and we slowly proceeded down the aisle. However I noticed Uncle William’s eyes slide shiftily onto me and I shuddered involuntarily. His sly look had a distinctly predatory slant and I recognised it.
Finally we arrived at the alter and the ‘brides’ knelt to take the blessing. Victoria and Sophia fussed about with the trains to make a clever heart shaped design on the floor with the trains as the rest of us bride’s-maids moved well to either side of the alter rail to let the whole congregation get a good view of the proceedings. Several people gasped in the audience as the shimmering material created a perfect heart behind the kneeling pair. As I stood transfixed by the continual shimmering I smiled as I realised that Victoria, Sophia, Angelica and Jemima were discreetly reflecting the scattered, brightly coloured summer sunlight from the stained glass windows with little mirrors previously hidden in their posy bags. The shiny silver threads that were shot through the satin and silk made the material glitter as different coloured shafts of light were haphazardly redirected by the four senior bride’s-maids. We younger bride’s maids were enchanted by the display but it soon ended. Vicar Rachel did not want the spectacular display to detract from the solemnity of the proceedings and after a brief interlude, the senior bride’s maids deftly slipped their mirrors back into their little posy bags. The blessing ceremony finally began.

I was pleasantly surprised when Vicar Rachel used the traditional Episcopal Anglican blessing and pleased that Auntie’s Beverly and Jamie had agreed to it. Jamie was asked to confirm Beverly as ‘his wife’ and repeat her marriage promises while Beverly was asked to renew her vows to Jamie as ‘her husband’. At the time I thought it was a capitulation but when I asked Vicar Rachel about it later she explained that it made the union legally tighter.

“You see Michelle, if anybody tries to have the marriage annulled or declared illegal, they cannot. You’re Auntie Jamie is well aware of her Uncle Arnold’s objections so we decided to go down the conventional route for the purposes of protecting your aunties and their children. Nobody can charge me or the church with conducting an illegal service.”

“Won’t the fact that they were both dressed as brides affect it?” I pressed.

“Good gracious no darling,” chuckled Vicar Rachel as she bent down to kiss my forehead affectionately, “the church makes no laws about how the couple dress to get married. I know there are old biblical constraints about apparel for men and women but that is ‘Old Testament’ stuff. If we were bound by those laws, then we could also sell our daughters into slavery or prostitution. I won’t wear that sort of abuse of women so I don’t hold much with the Old Testament. That’s the God of hellfire and damnation, not the god of love and understanding. The church has moved on a lot; how do you think I got to be a priest?”

“At the wedding breakfast, I took a lot of comfort from Vicar Rachel’s words for I suppose I was subconsciously considering my own uncertain future. After these reassurances I rejoined the other bride’s-maids and chatted contentedly with Simone. Naturally the conversation was all about marriage and relationships between Sissies and their future mistresses. As Jeanette joined us she was enormously curious about sissies and Mistress Janet’s academy.

She was even more intrigued when her newfound sissy boyfriend Julia had to slip away for her midday milking. As Julia and I made our excuses to leave, Jeanette’s eyes widened with curiosity and Julia and I immediately recognised the unrequited curiosity in Jeanette’s demeanour.

“Oh all right then, come and watch if you must,” grinned Julia, “I suppose if you are to be my mistress, then you’ll have to understand that there are certain constraints attached to my super-milker condition.”

“Does Michelle have to be milked as well?” Asked Jeanette.

“Uuhm, no,” I replied, “Only Julia’s a super milker.”

“Why’s that then?” Pressed Jeanette.

“I like having big tits and sensitive nipples.” Jeanette giggled as she surreptitiously hefted the cup of her hand under Julia’s breast and gently ‘weighed’ it.

“Mmmm. They are quite full and firm, aren’t they?”

“Stoppit!” Squeaked Julia, “people will see, and you’re not my mistress yet!”

“I’d like to be. How long will I have to wait?”

“You’ll have to come to the final year auction and speak with Mistress Janet. She always likes to check out any ordinary girls who haven’t been pupils at her academy. If she’s happy about a budding relationship then you’ll probably win the bidding at the auction but if she disapproves, then there always seems to be somebody who can outbid you.”

“It sound as if the auctions are fixed,” protested Jeanette.

“They probably are.” Conceded Julia as we stepped out through the graveyard side-gate and made our way across the private parkland to Earl Weston’s Large House. There was a narrow tarmac path so our shoes would not get muddy.

Unfortunately we hadn’t spotted Uncle Arnold secretly following us back to the house. He must have overheard our conversation at the blessing breakfast.

As we walked across the park we had to pass through a small dense copse of trees surrounded by smaller May trees still in blossom. I was enchanted to see that the dense May blossom was out so I decided to collect a few tiny sprigs and decorate our hair when we returned to the blessing breakfast. I thought it would give the blessing an additional, rustic festive air.

“You two carry on and get the equipment ready,” I declared as I reached up to examine some blossom.

Jeanette and Julia resumed crossing the park as I stepped deeper into the thicket to select some better blossom. It was then that the vicious Uncle Arnold seized his opportunity. Crossing from the blind side behind the copse, he dashed into the surrounding thicket of May trees and seized me just as I was reaching up to select a perfect cluster of blossoms. I screamed as I felt his powerful hands grab me from behind and flip up the hem of my long bride’s maids dress over my head. This trapped both my arms inside the skirt of the dress and I was helpless as I felt his rough, horny hands burrowing up under my corset. This time however, unlike that time in the park in Richmond my corset wasn’t of the full panty style. It was more like a waist cincher and that gave Uncle Arnold unrestricted access to my pretty pantied bum. In what seemed like an instant, I felt his disgusting organ probing at my virginal sissy hole but I couldn’t make any noise because his hand had the skirt of my gown jammed in my mouth. I tried bighting but he cruelly wrenched my slender neck around and I felt as if it had been broken. I ceased screaming immediately for to be raped was better than having one’s slender, delicate neck broken. Within another moment I felt his brutal thrust tear into my body and I almost feinted with pain. As I slumped with shock he snarled.

“What’s the matter you filthy little sissy. Isn’t this what you like?”

There was no way I could answer and there was no way I could resist his powerful grip as he repeatedly thrust into me and his disgusting breath panted with exertion.

Finally he let out a groan of relief and I felt his revolting seed force it’s way deep into my sissy hole before he dropped me like a rag doll and turned and fled.

It had all happened in such a short time that I was too dazed and shocked to stand, let alone call out for help. I was still sobbing on my muddied knees when Jeanette and Julia finally came looking to find me.

“Oh my God! What happened to you?” Squealed Jeanette.

“What d’you think has happened?” Riposted Julia, “can’t you see she’s been raped! Look at the blood around her arse!”

I was till too shocked to respond so the others helped me to my feet and got me to the house were Jeanette called the police instead of the family at the church.

Fortunately the local police force was alert to transphobic crimes and a compassionate forensic lady doctor took swabs from my bleeding, insulted sissy hole before even the police interviewed me as a first step towards legal action. After the samples had been taken the police woman then gently interviewed me and I was able to declare that I was sure it was Uncle Arnold because I had recognised his curses as he attacked me. A couple of plain clothes detectives visited the wedding breakfast and discreetly arrested him outside the wedding festivities just as he was driving away in his car. Unbelievably, he had returned to the wedding breakfast to create himself an alibi by pretending that he had never left the party. He had left the wedding feast in a blaze of publicity as a further move to reinforce his alibi. Indeed, he had been so quick in attacking me that nobody had actually missed him at the wedding breakfast and he would have got away with it. His alibi was destroyed however, for even though I had never seen who had attacked me I had recognised his snarling voice and the forensic evidence of his spent semen in and around my torn rectum finally sealed his fate. Furthermore when the police examined him there was still blood on his pubic hair and it was proven to be mine.

At the trial, despite Uncle Arnold’s lawyer’s attempts to discredit me and purvey me as some sort of perverted male prostitute, I won my case. Uncle Arnold was sent down for five years. The affair also caused the breakup of his son William’s marriage to Elaine.

Elaine had finally concluded that the brutal misogynistic misconduct of her father-in-law brought more shame upon her family and children than the existence of a sissy like Jamie.

A few months later, my twin Nephew and niece were born to my Auntie Beverly. Their father, Auntie Jamie and their paternal grandfather Old Earl Weston were beside themselves with joy. Rarely had a birth meant so much to so many. With his succession assured Earl Weston became a new man and I was surprised one morning in the school vacation to find Auntie Bev looking tearfully out of the huge bay window of the morning room.

“What’s wrong Auntie?” I asked tenderly.

She turned and smiled at me.

“Just look at that image darling. Have you ever seen such a happier, prettier picture?”

I followed her gaze to see Earl Weston slowly pushing the twins in a large wheeled, old fashioned, pram across the gravel forecourt. By his side was Morag who had become the Earl’s minder as old age and frailty began to catch up with him. To me it appeared as a picture of family bliss and I turned puzzled to Auntie Bev.

“It looks idyllic, so why are you so sad?”

Auntie Bev let out a snort of amusement.

“I’m not sad Petal, I’m happy!”

Squire Weston must have felt our eyes upon him for he turned, saw us in the window, grinned hugely and waved eagerly. Never had I seen a happier, more contented grandfather. My eyes began to fill up.

“D’you think he’ll live to see his grand-children grow up?” I asked my Auntie.

“Well he’s in his eighties now Petal. Who can say?”

“I’d like them to remember him, as he is now, sweet, old and doting.”

“Well he’d have to live into his nineties, we can wish.”

I decided to go and join him and his grandchildren as he strolled in the summer sunshine. It was one of the most memorable morning walks I had ever had and when I was ever home from the academy in the future I would join him on his daily constitutional.
It was during these walks with the grandchildren that he talked to me at length about the Weston family history and I became a de-facto depository of family lore. Squire Weston did live into his nineties, indeed he lived to be over a hundred!”

During those same summer vacations my relationship with Jeanette blossomed. Her mother Elaine had moved to be near the big house because despite Arnold and William being relatives of Earl Weston, Elaine recognised that they were the true black sheep of the family not the delightfully sweet, effeminate and transvestite Jamie. Personally I felt that Elaine might have had regrets about choosing the strong, handsome, macho William over the wholly effeminate, Jamie but it was too late now. Jamie was utterly enamoured of my Auntie Beverly precisely because she was attracted to Jamie’s femininity.

In those later years when I was at Mistress Janet’s academy, Earl Weston’s house almost became an ‘annexe’ of the school during the vacations It was not unusual to find up to twenty or even thirty past and present pupils staying over as house guests. It was also popular because the house was only a couple of hours from London and that included the London traffic. By train, London was just under an hour away to Victoria and that meant less than ninety minutes to Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny’s hotel and club in Pimlico.

As I progressed up the school the regime appeared to me to be getting less arduous but the truth was my body was becoming acclimatised to sissydom. Tight corsets and other such sissyfication circumstances had become ‘the norm’. In our final year Janice and I decided to separate and live in separate studies. Although they were across the landing of the same school house. We were never far from each other either physically or emotionally. However it looked as though Janice was going to be paired with Joanna whilst I would be paired with Simone in the mistress / sissy word of adulthood. I had to admit, it seemed like an ideal set up to me. In the final year ‘auctions’ this proved to be the case and we finally graduated from the academy as happily attached couples.

Now it remained for us to follow our wishes and explore any careers that our aspirations and qualifications allowed.

This chapter describes Michelle and Simone's move to new York at Andre's invitation to learn hair styling at the Master's salon.

 

The Sissy Farm.
Chapter 25.

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
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.

My final years at Miss Janet’s academy proved reasonably pleasant for me. There were no great academic pressures put upon me because my tonsorial skills had already ensured me a good position at Andre’s salon in New York. I suppose that the lack of pressure for me to succeed academically was the reason I did do well. When the results came out even Mistress Janet called me to her study.

“With these results Michelle, you could have your pick of just about any college in the world. They’re some of the best results we’ve ever had for one pupil.”

I stood demurely silent for Mistress Janet could be ever so persuasive. However she was also understanding of her pupil’s needs. After she had enthused and cajoled for several minutes she realised she was not winning any arguments. Eventually she wagged her head and smiled.

“Alright Michelle; I can see you’re still not persuaded. Are you still bent upon New York and becoming a hair-dresser?”

“Hair stylist ma-am.”

Mistress Janet smiled indulgently.

“Alright then, hair stylist. But I’m not going to give up on you just yet.”

“What d’you mean ma-am?” I asked nervously.

“Yours is too good a head to waste entirely on hair. There’s a brilliant brain inside it as well.”

I was pleased with the compliment but became more nervous as Mistress Janet continued.

“I’m going to speak to Andre to try and persuade him to release you for lectures at New York State University.”

“But Ma-am; - I pleaded in vain.”

“There will be no buts about it Michelle. I refuse to let such a brilliant mind go to waste. If the fellow is as keen to have you as he says he is, then he can prove it. Lots of American students supplement their university fees by working nights.”

“I don’t need to supplement my income Ma-am, when my parents were killed they left Janice and me with a healthy inheritance.”

“Well you’re a very fortunate young lady. Nevertheless I still want you to complete some sort of university education. The idea of a brain like yours going to waste is just not acceptable. New York is a twenty four hour city; you could work later hours at his salon then attend college during the day.”

I felt that Mistress Janet was being a bit too bossy. After Simone and I left the school our lives were our own to do with as Simone wanted, (Don’t forget I’m a sissy and totally in thrall to my mistress!)

Fortunately Simone also wanted me to become an acolyte of Andre’ after all he was world famous. Consequently both my mistresses’ ambitions and mine coincided. I was to realise that being a sissy extended well into my adult life.

I had not realised that Miss Janet had previously got to my new mistress Simone and they agreed that I was not to let my talents go to waste. By the time graduation day had arrived, I was already enrolled in University on Washington Square Manhattan. The only advantage was that it was near Andre’s salon so travelling was no problem.

Mistress Janet and Simone might have got me enrolled against my will but I got my own back by choosing a pure maths degree course. When Mistress Janet found out about it she questioned me.

“I would have thought you’d have chosen a vocational degree, medicine or law.”

I lied and said that I considered maths to be a genuine intellectual challenge. I did not tell her that I had little intention of working too hard for any degree. With maths a student either understood it or not. If the principles and theory were understood, a student didn’t have to work much reading around a subject. That was my kind of degree. No long hours burning the candle at both ends studying legal case studies and reports or learning pages and pages medical names, terms and knowledge, not to mention the deductive slog when doing diagnosis. Besides, I had a brain like a computer and found long complex calculations to be fun, a doddle even as I often rattled off answers from my head while the rest of the class were still clicking away on calculators or computers. It did not endear me to the rest of the class until they asked me to represent the college at a national university brain quiz. Our freshman class came first by a country mile!

Give me a problem and I’d simply use the maths tools to sort it; then job done, off I’d go to the salon or gay clubs or bed. My fellow students soon got to be a little jealous of this ‘weird girl’ who always handed her assignments in on time yet rarely seemed to spend long hours poring over books. I found maths easy; furthermore I did not waste my valuable time helping other students. If they were stuck with a problem I gave them carte-blanche to my rough notes and left them to it.

I had learned my lessons about plagiarism so I never left my final notes to be copied. If my fellow classmates needed further help, well, they had tutors for that. I was too busy pursuing my true vocation, hair styling and sharing in the inexhaustible transgendered delights that New York had to offer.

The only rigid timetable I was locked into was milking time, twice a day and always shared with Simone. She was now my full-time mistress who had chosen a fashion course at the same college and that gave her huge flexibility. We were an extremely lucky couple to be enjoying our lives in the big apple. Auntie Jamie had funded Simone because her mother Morag cared for Jamie’s dad the earl whilst I had my allowance from my parent’s estate and a modest salary from Andre’s salon. As a couple, Simone and I got by and we found New York to be as liberating an experience as London.

In the salon, late one Sunday afternoon, (I didn’t like working much on Sundays but the money was good and the appointments were all with very busy wealthy New York career girls who had little time on weekdays to fuss about with their hair,) a lady entered after the salon had emptied. I had noticed her loitering outside obviously waiting until we were empty then she came in just before I managed to close up for the afternoon.

Andre had been pleased with my work that day and he said so. He met the girl and she whispered to him for several minutes before Andre turned and explained.

“Sorry about this one Midge, (That was his private name for me.) can you do a special and fit her in while I finish up the weeks accounts?”

I wasn’t best pleased but I was sissy and sissies did as they were told. Even for people who were not my mistresses. I sighed wearily and flipped my scissors dextrously into my hands as I stood poised behind the woman. Andre smiled at me, the scissors flipping trick had become my trade-mark, just like a ‘quick-draw’ artist in a western.

“I like you kid, despite attending that college up town you put in an honest day’s work.”

I smiled bashfully then chatted with the lady about her preferences.

“Oh you choose a style but don’t remove too much; I want to keep the length so my future options open.”

I shrugged and commenced styling the lady’s hair while Andre racked up the till and completed the accounts. When I’d finished the customer squealed with delight and handed me a huge tip. Later, as I was vacuuming up the cuttings, I saw her whispering to Andre who was smiling all over his face. After she had left, Andre helped finish cleaning up and then he invited me into his back office. I was a bit nervous cos it was quite late and Andre’ as the maestro would never have normally dirtied his hands with the cleaning. I thought I was going to get groped or something though I wasn’t entirely disgusted with the thought. Andre was very handsome but he didn’t know I was a sissy. Instead he turned to me.

“Do you know who that was?” He asked me as I stepped nervously into his office.

“Uuhhm, - no,” I answered quite honestly.

“That’s Dawn Robbins, the new star on Broadway. She’s just opened as the leading lady in the musical Manhattan Days and Nights.”

My jaw sagged as I recalled the new smash hit that everybody was raving about. I wasn’t much into musicals being a clubbing girl myself but just about everybody with cultural or literary pretensions in New York was going gaga over it.

“Oh, is that good then?” I asked innocently.

Andre almost choked over my naivety. Then he wagged his head and gently took my head in his hands as he kissed me.

“Oh my poor sweet innocent Michelle, don’t you realise what she’s just done?”

“Uuhhm, - no. But I think I’m about to find out.”

“Too damned right you are kid! She’s only gone and asked that you do her hair each time. She’s thrilled with your work! That means she’ll be coming in every week on Sunday late afternoons just before the early evening show. She’s thrilled with what you’ve done with her hair. Do you know how important this is?”

Again I stood slack-jawed and still uncomprehending as I wagged my head again.

“Uuhhm, - no!”

“Oh you poor little moppet. One of the sub plots in the musical is Dawn’s hair or rather Sandie’s hair. Sandie is the character she plays in the show.”

For a moment I didn’t get the connection then Andre explained.

“You see one of the sub-plots is that nobody knows where Sandie gets her hair done every week.”

“I, - but surely they do it at the theatre don’t they, I mean, - every night during make up and stuff.”

“Not on your life kid. She’s getting it done every week right here in my salon, - by you!!”

“Mee-ee!” I squeaked.

“Yes you! This is your biggest break kid, but you must never tell anybody until she’s finished her run. Then if the show gets a second run you must still keep it a secret until she completes her contract. You could be doing her hair every week for two or maybe even three years!”

I swallowed nervously.

“But why didn’t she ask you, - why me.”

“Your anonymous kid and she likes your work. A couple of her friends have been in here and she’s heard about your work from them. I told you, you were good! She’s waited a few weeks so her friends wouldn’t make any connection, then after getting the part she’s been checking your work for several days by spying on you through the salon window from Angelina's cafe across the street each evening after her rehearsals. Then she’d check out the customer’s hair after they left the salon. She chose you kid cos your work’s good!”

“I swallowed nervously. I’d only been working for Andre for a couple of months and now my work was going to be on show each night on Broadway. Andre sensed my fear.”

“Don’t let it get to you girl. She likes your work. Grab your chance. Oh, and don’t try to smarm around her. Be honest when you’re discussing styles especially when deciding what’s possible and what’s not. You’re the genius with hair love not Dawn Robbins, -she’s just the singer okay! She’ll be looking to you for advice! Don’t worry, I’ll be on hand to help you there and we can discuss ideas each Sunday afternoon before she comes in.”

I fell tearfully into Andre’s arms, overwhelmed with the sheer unbelievability of the evening’s events. He held me tight to him because he was every bit as excited as I was. Despite Andre’ already having an international reputation, Dawn Robbins’ choice of his salon was a huge feather in his cap.

After closing up he took me for a drink then, like the gentleman he was, he put me off outside my apartment. My breasts were bursting to be milked and Simone was not in a very good mood when I turned up late for milking. It was not made easier by my being unable to explain why I was late. All I could do was tell her that on Sundays I’d be late coming home for the foreseeable future.

“So what about milking, how shall we get around that?” She demanded.

For the moment I couldn’t see a way forward but after sleeping on it I found a solution. As we shared our morning milking session I explained.

“I could buy another milking machine and keep it at Andre’s.”

“Where will you get the money for that?”

I pulled the hundred dollar note from my purse and explained.

“This new client is a big tipper.”

Simone’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. To us students despite our private allowances, one hundred bucks was still a tidy sum. I put an immediate call through back home to order another machine.

Two weeks later it arrived and Andre allowed me to install it in one of his back store-rooms. In fact, that particular room had become mine by default because now several other ladies were asking for me personally. What I liked about Andre was that he showed no jealousy of my skills and was more than happy to recommend me to new customers who had come looking for his services. The business started to expand rapidly but we still closed officially at three on Sundays, specifically to accommodate Dawn Robbins’ arrangement. It remained a successful secret for two whole runs on Broadway, mainly because we had altered ‘my store-room’ into a private salon away from prying eyes and the street. Fortunately, we had so much spare equipment in there that Dawn never wondered about all the different apparatus, including my milker. She was used to the clutter of the dressing room and ‘make up’ plus she was free of prying eyes when she was at her most vulnerable. In fact she started to think of it as one of her few refuges. So much so that Andre gave her a key to the back door. She took to slipping in at the back un-noticed as early as two o’clock on the Sundays then she would sit in what had become my store-room sipping a quiet coffee and reading magazines while Andre and I finished up out front.

A hiccup came when Andre decided to attend a big hair fashion event in Rome and left me to run the shop. It was over the Christmas holidays and lots of our clients had left New York for their family re-unions over Christmas and New Year. Despite the turndown I was a quite busy working single-handed in the Salon that Sunday before Christmas so Simone was helping me out and earning some extra dough. I had been told that the Broadway show was closed for Christmas and New Year so Dawn Robbins was not expected.

Simone and I had closed up at about fiveish, after my having worked single handed while Simone made herself useful by shampooing the hair and cleaning up behind me. Many of Andre’s personal clients were quite happy to let me do their hair for they were anticipating the latest European styles when Andre returned. This had made us late but we weren’t going anywhere until much later so working until five o’clock was no big deal. Eventually we locked up and Simone giggled as she asked me a favour in the back rooms.

“Can you do my hair in some shocking, ‘in your face’ style for the’ way out’ party tonight?”

I grinned. Simone had a fabulous head of hair and I had often debated what would happen with a full head of hair set up in some tall, spiky, punk style. Simone’s hair was just begging to be experimented on.

Having decided to try something new, I sat Simone down in my ‘store-room’ and we set about experimenting. Amid much laughter and gasps of disbelief I finally styled an outrageous head of hair and we cackled with laughter as our breasts began to ache.

“Oh shit!” Simone sighed. “I need to be milked! Is it that late?”

“Me too,” I agreed as I hefted my aching boob. “It’s okay we can use my spare milker while I set your hair.”

“Brilliant,” giggled Simone, “two birds with one stone.”

Thus we sat facing each other being milked while the dryer set Simone’s hair.
We had hardly started milking when we suddenly heard the back door being opened. Both of us froze nervously for we were not
expecting anybody, especially someone with a key.

“Who can that be?” Simone wondered nervously.”

“It can only be one of four people who’ve got keys.”

“Who?” Simone pressed.
“It’s either me or Andre, who’s in Rome or Dawn Robbins, or Eddie the caretaker of the whole building. It’s probably Eddie.”

“He can’t see us like this!” Simone squeaked.

“Like I don’t know!” I riposted as I closed off my suction valves, disconnected myself reluctantly from the breast pump and stepped to peep through the door of my store-room. To my surprise it wasn’t Eddie but Dawn Robbins. She saw the crack of light as I had opened the door and crossed over.

“Is that you Midge?” (She had taken to using Andre’s nickname for me.)

“Uuhhm yes. What d’you want?”

“Look at my hair. It’s a mess. Some idiot just splashed me with a big truck and I’m filthy. I was just going to a party. I saw your car outside and wondered if you were still open. Can you do something, pleease?!!!”

I muttered under my breath and she garnished my mood. It was getting late and my boobs were really beginning to ache.

“Pleeease!!! Midge. It’s an important party. Just about anybody who’s anybody will be there.”

“OK. Can you wait for about half an hour? I’ve got my partner with me and we’ve been experimenting. We weren’t expecting anybody.”

Dawn’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Ooooh! Can I see?”

“Well, it’s a bit personal. She’s somewhat inconvenienced at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” she said, “I’ll make us all some coffee.”

So saying, Dawn stepped into my store-room and was confronted by Simone with her hair under the dryer and her breasts being milked. Her Jaw dropped as Simone cursed helplessly. I struggled not to get annoyed for Dawn was a much valued customer.”

“You should have waited. I did say my partner was inconvenienced!”

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll wait outside.”

Simone bailed everybody out by accepting the situation.

“No, she might as well stay and make coffee now. She’ll only wonder why it’s taking so long.”

“But what about, - what about me?” I pleaded.

“Well it’s no secret now is it,” Simone replied resignedly as she turned to face Dawn, “just don’t tell anybody OK. Anyway why are you here? A famous actress like you should be, - oh my God! It’s you isn’t it, the hair thing with Manhattan Days and Nights!! Are you saying Michelle is your stylist? The girl who does all those fantastic hairstyles!”

Dawn cursed as she realised her emergency had compromised our arrangement after months of successful secrecy. She turned to me with apology writ huge over her frown.

“Shit, I’m sorry Midge, I should have been more circumspect.”

Simone gasped as she realised the situation. Already, Dawn Robbins was considering changing stylists.

“No! Dawn. It’s okay. Your secret’s safe, I’m Michelle’s partner. We live together, I’d never hurt Michelle by revealing her vital secret. Your secret’s safe with me honestly. Sit there and have a cup of coffee.”

“Are you sure?” Dawn pressed as she turned to me. “I know I can trust you and Andre but this lady, can she keep a secret?”

“She keeps plenty of secrets,” I replied, “but you can’t drink your coffee in here.”

“Oh, why not?”

I turned to stare hard at Simone who had unthinkingly invited Dawn to occupy the arm chair while I needed to finish milking. I made a discreet sign to my swollen breasts and Simone suddenly realised. I hadn’t finished milking! Simone grasped the nettle.

“Oh I forgot Dawn, Michelle’s got a small medical problem, it’s a bit personal so can I respectfully ask you to wait outside for half an hour?”

It was Dawn’s turn to be baffled.

“What sort of medical problem takes half an hour?”

Then she noticed the damp patches spreading under my overall. My breasts had started leaking. She gasped partly with surprise and partly with pleasure.

“Oh! You’re, - you’re leaking! Your breasts, you’ve got milk as well!”

I cursed softly but now had to face the music. One girl lactating meant a probable baby somewhere but two girls lactating was more than a coincidence to Dawn’s sharp mind. Especially as Dawn now realised that the ‘milking machine’ had connections for four nipples and neither of us had horns.

“What’s going on here?” Dawn asked suspiciously.

“It’s a private thing,” Simone replied, “we’re both lactating and when we’re out and about we have to express our milk mechanically.”

Dawn looked down at the bottle being steadily filled with Simone’s milk.

“That’s a huge bottle and you’ve already put, -(she squinted at the figures on the bottle.), good God! — You’ve already expressed nearly a litre. What the hell are you? Dairy Cows!!”

“Don’t be nosey. Our lactation needs are our concern!”

Dawn shrugged then turned to me.

“Do you produce this much milk as well?”

I nodded and shrugged as I tried to appear casual and unconcerned. As Simone had rightly pointed out, ‘our lactation was our concern.’ Dawn was not to be so easily dismissed.

“So, if you’re lactating, then there’s a baby or babies somewhere.”

“Not necessarily.” I argued. “Maybe our metabolisms just work this way.”

“What! You mean you produce milk all the time.”

“Exactly!” I snapped as I sat down and attached the cups to my own spurting breasts. Dawn just gaped.

“Have you got babies, stashed away somewhere, ready to drink all this?”

“No,” Simone replied,”

“So what happens to this milk? D’you sell it, - to hospitals I mean? — You know for premature babies or something.”

Simone said nothing. It wouldn’t do to lie about our milk. She could have sold her milk to a hospital because it wasn’t technically ‘sissy milk’ and it would not affect any babies. I of course, could not give my milk to boy babies because of the sissyfying hormonal effects. What we actually did was donate the milk to an orphanage for girls where it would do no harm and a lot of good. Most of it went to premature baby girls born drug addicted. We told Dawn this and her attitude changed immediately.

“You mean you give it to the nuns, to charity!”

“Well yes and no, - we give it to charity but it’s not a religious orphanage. We do not give it to the nuns, it’s a secular organisation.” I replied hoping that this answer would close the issue.

It stopped Dawn’s questions but now she started praising us.

“So you, actually give your milk away for free to the orphans.”

“That’s what I said didn’t I?”

“Why that’s just beautiful. So when will you stop producing?”

“After the menopause.” Simone added.

“What! What d’you mean?”

“You heard me!” Simone repeated. “After the menopause.”

“So you’ll be doing this until your fifty something, for the rest of your working life!”

“That’s roughly when the menopause is usually complete.” I added.

“How come? Why do your bodies do that?”

“It’s the way we are. Anyway, it’s nice to be able to help somebody else who’s needier than us.”

Dawn wagged her head and blinked disbelievingly.

“Well! I’ve heard of the milk of human kindness but I’ve never actually seen it for real. This is just so cool!”

“Ok. Don’t go on about it. You came to have your hair sorted. So lie back and let Simone shampoo your hair while I finish up with my milk. I’ll get to your hair straight after.”

As dawn settled into the familiar chair Simone ducked from under her drier. Her spectacular hair style was done. Dawn stared at it and gasped disbelievingly.

“Oh my god! Did you do that Midge?”

“Who else.”

“Could you do something like that for me, - here, - now?”

“Flippin’ heck Dawn It’ll take about two hours! Look at all the colours in it for a start! We’re supposed to be at the club for nine for the Christmas party. It’s nearly half seven now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Okay then, just clean it up and do a quickie.”

With that Simone set to with the shampoo whilst I finished up milking. By eight thirty we were finished up. Dawn was pleased with her hair but still looked enviously at Simone’s head. I had to almost push her out of the door as we rushed to make the deadline for the club. She wanted to know what club we were going to and I was a little reluctant to tell her. I didn’t want my private life mixed up with my work. Lots of people still disapproved of transgendered girls so I left it to others to spread the gospel. I had no trouble passing and only got a very occasional stare at my wasp thin waist, mainly if I was wearing a body hugging outfit. At college I tended to wear leggings and loose tops with saggy belts slung low on my hips. In three years at uni, nobody ever read me.

Reluctantly, I revealed what club we were going to and Dawn stared at me with surprise written over her face.

“But that’s a gay club!”

“So! It’s also a bloody good club and the crack is terrific. Come on now, we’re late as it is.”

Reluctantly Dawn departed but I got the feeling she wanted to know more about our clubbing habits. I wasn’t too keen to tell her and I turned to Simone.

“Forget the cleaning,” I said, “we’re late for the club.”

Back at the apartment we had to rush but we eventually got to the club with seconds to spare.

Simone’s hair won first prize for the most outrageous statement and several clubbers came up to us during the night asking for appointments. I gave them Andre’s card and told them to fix an appointment with Trixie our receptionist. Things were certainly looking up for me.

After the Christmas dinner and the judging Simone and I got down to some serious dancing. We like jiving and the disc jockey knew us so he indulged us occasionally. The standard of dancing at the club is high because many professional dancers get down there to hang loose. There were some really groovy chicks who were fabulous movers not to mention the boys. We were having a ball and Simone and I were well away. Frequently other dancers cut in because Simone’s hair attracted lots of attention then, when girls who had cut in got talking to Simone and found out I was the stylist; they chatted to me. As the night wore on I was changing dance partners about every three dances and hardly noticing who I was dancing with, likewise Simone. It was wild!

At about midnight a new partner cut in as I was raving away and it was several seconds before I recognised Dawn Robbins. For about half a second I paused in surprise then smiled and invited her to link.

“Gosh, I didn’t know you came here! D’you jive?”

“Not well, but if you can teach me.”

“Okay, but I’ll take the man’s part, is that okay?”

“Suit’s me I’m a girly sort of girl.”

“So what caused you to leave your smart party; with all those famous people and all?”

“Oh it just got boring. Too many randy old farts trying to get into my pants with offers of parts in other shows. I’m happy with Manhattan Days and it’s still playing to full houses.”

“So you’re staying then,” I smiled as I span her into a basket return.

“Well for the next few runs at least. I’m here for three seasons. That’ll pay for a permanent apartment downtown. The show’s a real hit.”

“Wow! Lucky you!”

“And you. There’ll be my hair.”

I gasped and scanned around.

“Shhh. Walls have ears!”

“Oh shit,” she cursed but fortunately nobody appeared to have overheard. The music was too loud anyway.

We fell to chatting for several dances before Simone cut in.

“Can I have my man back please?”

Without thinking, Dawn relinquished possession of me then declared she was going to get some drinks. I told her where our table was and she disappeared between the dancers as Simone and I swung easily into our familiar routine. After an enjoyable session we took a break and found Dawn sitting thoughtfully at our table. It was in the quiet area where people could chat without having to bellow above the noise of the music. Several of the regular clubbers had recognised her sitting alone and thoughtful in the subdued lighting and she had been compelled to preserve our seats as people asked to join what they thought was ‘her table’. So much for the price of fame. As we returned and slumped grinning into our seats Dawn turned to Simone.

“So you two are an item then?”

We both nodded as I bent forward to pick up Simone’s aching feet, rest them on my lap and loosen her sandals.

“Oooh! Thanks love; now massage them.” Simone sighed blissfully for she had been dancing non-stop since the judging.

As I busied myself with Simone’s feet Dawn asked again.

“You said that Midge was ‘your man’; exactly how? I mean you’re lipstick girls aren’t you?”

“No. It’s nothing like that.” Simone replied noncommittally, “I’m her mistress, she’s my sissy.”

“What the heck does that mean?” Dawn frowned uncomprehendingly.

“Oh, it’s a private arrangement we have. You wouldn’t understand.”

“But you’re gay, right?”

Simone and I exchanged sly smiles then Simone replied.

“Well no; we’re not actually. Michelle’s a sissy, a feminised boy. By the way, seeing as you’re down here for one of the best and most popular nights of the year, you must be a member to have got in; it’s ticket only tonight and this is a gay club, or at least an alternative life-styles club. You’d have to be a member. Are you gay?”

Dawn recoiled fearfully from Simone’s question.

“Shush! I don’t want people to know. Think what they’d do to me on the show. They’d crucify me for every stud in the apple is slavering after my arse. Anyway, as it happens, I’m bi.”

“Oooh! Lucky you. Double the fun then.” I grinned disarmingly. “So you like us little boys as well as little girls?”

“Are you really a boy?” Dawn pressed.

“Yes she is,” Simone replied for me, “so how did you get in? Without a ticket that is!”

Dawn lowered her eyes guiltily.

“Fame has it’s uses and the girl on the door fancied me. I gave her some tickets for the show and she let me in. The table places and booking parts for the meal and the judging were the only parts affected by ticket allocation and they’re long finished. I came late cos of the previous party and also hoping to meet you girls.”

“So where you looking for some action or what?”

“Not really, I could get all the action I wanted anywhere. I just wanted to hitch up with you two again. Just to chat really. You’re not always trying to latch onto me. It’s relief just to meet two genuine people who aren’t always fawning around or trying to use me or something.”

Simone and I exchanged surprised glances. Then Simone explained.

“Well we’ll be leaving about three-ish. We’ve got to open the Salon at ten. Working girls and all that. Will you be okay getting home that late? Have you ordered a taxi? It’s the last Sunday before Christmas don’t forget. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. There are parties all over the city tonight.”

“Ahh shit! I decided to come here last minute cos I was sick of the phonies at the party. I forgot.”

“Well you’d better try and order one.” Simone suggested. “Doubt you’ll get one though. All good little taxi drivers will be fully booked.”

Dawn tried several numbers on her mobile and failed. Her smile faded as it became obvious there was little chance of finding one that night. Simone tried on her phone and failed then we asked one of our friends at the reception desk. Same result. Zilch.

I observed ruefully.

“If the club can’t find one then nobody can. What about sharing one with another club member?”

“That’s a good idea; could I share your taxi with you?” Dawn asked.

“None starter I’m afraid,” Simone replied. “We live just a couple of doors down. We don’t even lose sight of the bouncers. Safest walk home in the apple probably. And they all know us. Short of a drive-by shooting, nobody’ll ever get to mug us.”
Dawn fell silent and I sensed where this was going. It took but a few moments before she looked at Simone.

“Could I use your sofa? Just for tonight that is.”

“Well you’ll have to come home with us then. I wouldn’t want you knocking us up at six or something.”

“Hell I had no intention of staying that late. Normally I’m in bed by one, what with the show and everything.”

Simone looked at me and I frowned slightly. We’d never had a guest stay over and we considered our little apartment as a sort of sanctuary. It wasn’t much but it was ours. The whole family had rallied around with funds and we’d bought the lease for as long as we were in college with an option to extend it if we stayed on afterwards. It looked as though that option might be exercised seeing as how my hair-styling work was getting noticed. Our lifestyle was to say the least very ‘alternative’. I looked at Dawn questioningly as I double checked.

“You’ll have to take us as we are you know.”

“Meaning,” Dawn wondered.

“Well there’s the milking, and the sissy thing and we sleep together. Oh and the bathroom isn’t en-suite. We have to walk through the living room to go for a pee. Don’t be surprised to see us walking through the living room naked. Finally, our sofa isn’t that big, you’ll have to curl up a bit.”

“Well the naked bit might be interesting if you have got what you say you’ve got. I’ve slept in plenty of crazy places when I was making it. What d’you think I did before I made it big? I’ve curled up on plenty of sofas; and floors for that matter. You won’t even notice I’m there. I promise. The other question is will I be safe with you two?”

“You asked to stay over, not us.” Simone pointed out.

“Yeah. And that’s a point. At least I know you’re not coming on to me. Thanks for letting me sleep over. You guys are for real, thanks.”

“Well, it’s nearly two o’clock.” I observed, “If we’re going to get some more dancing in we’d better step out.”

“So darling save the last dance for me,” Simone sang as we got to our feet.”

Dawn looked up and wondered.

“Can Midge dance double headed?”

“You mean jive with two girls together? Yeah. Easy.”

“Can I join you then?”

“If you want,” Simone replied adding; “I’ll dance lefty cos I’m more attuned to Midge and our moves.”

Thanks, let’s get kicking then. I saw you dancing earlier. You can hold your heads up in this club and I know quite a few of the guys here who are professionals. We’ve worked in shows together.”

We made our way to the dance floor and picked up the beat. Dawn was a good dancer and we were soon thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Sadly three o’clock came around and despite our thoroughly enjoying ourselves, bedtime called. The salon had to work even on Christmas Eve because some customers wanted to look their best for family parties.

Back at the apartment, Simone and I unfolded the ‘put-you-up’ sofa and Dawn was suitably grateful. Simone and I slept until six when our tits woke us with their familiar call. Dawn heard us creeping around so she got up and joined us out of curiosity. We did not share our partner panties though. There are some secrets a girl likes to keep.

Dawn decided to make some coffee so she slipped my spare dressing gown over her bra and panties then sat smiling at us across the kitchen table as we completed our milking. She was fascinated by the whole situation. After emptying our tits we crept back to bed. We still weren’t needed at the salon until ten. As we cuddled up Dawn looked at us enviously.

“Are you two just cuddling in there?” She asked.

“Why?” Simone replied. “Why d’you ask?”

“That’s a big bed and it’s cold on the sofa.”

Simone and I exchanged smiles. There was always room in our bed for a pretty one!

“Okay then,” Simone smiled. “You can squeeze Midge between us like the meat in the sandwich.”

Dawn needed no further persuading. She stepped out of my dressing gown and slid eagerly beside me as her beautiful body garnished my warmth.

“Gosh. You are cold,” I giggled as her soft, goose-pimpled thigh inveigled itself between my soft, slender legs. Simone then slid her leg between my thighs and both girls giggled salaciously. Next an inquisitive little, unfamiliar hand came exploring my intimate sissy bits.

I was as hard as any cock could be but Dawn seemed a little puzzled. She rose up on one arm to speak across me to Simone. (Dawn had already sussed out the mistress — sissy relationship structure.)

“Midge’s cock, - it’s small isn’t it?”

“She’s a sissy Dawn,” Simone explained. “Sissy’s cocks are small, that is if they have a cock at all.”

“Oh. I see. Well I learn something new every day.”

“Dawn then hesitated thoughtfully before plucking up the courage to ask.”

“Simone.”

“Yes darling,” Simone replied anticipating the question.

“Would you really mind if I, - you know, - uuhhm, - like, borrowed it for a while.”

“How long is ‘a while darling? We have to be at the Salon for ten.”

“Oh gosh no! Not that long. Just for a quickie I mean.”

Simone giggled and spoke to me.

“See darling, that’s what most women are like. Find you, feel you, fuck you and forget you. She’s just like all the girls!

They treat poor little sissies something rotten! Now d’you see why it’s much nicer having a firm, strong, caring mistress to look out for you?”

I turned and gazed into Dawn’s eyes.

“If you have my baby, will you promise not to abandon me?”

She started laughing and slapped me playfully.

“You silly sissy. Come here!”

With that she hugged me to her and planted the most delicious kiss on my unsuspecting lips. As our faces met, dawn glanced at Simone who nodded assent. Dawn could have access to my sissy bits. With no more ado she manoeuvred herself onto my little organ and quickly indulged herself. She came before I did and that bemused her. As she commenced a second session she asked both of us in a husky whisper.

“Do sissies always take this long to come?”

Simone confirmed this and Dawn giggled contentedly as she drove herself to new heights.

During her third orgasm, I joined her in mutuality and she squealed with satiated delight. Then she collapsed on me and our breasts mashed together as we each felt the other’s heart-beat thundering away. Soon Dawn was fast asleep and after dozing briefly ourselves, we rose and left her snoring contentedly. As we left for the salon, Simone looked at ‘sleeping beauty’ and grinned.

“That’s probably one of the best fucks she’s had since going on stage.”

“I hope so,” I replied, “I wouldn’t want to ever be accused of being a selfish sissy or a poor performer.”

“Oh that will never be,” Simone smiled, “you’ve been fixed the way you are and now you can never change. I had a long chat with Mistress Janet on graduation day. You’re one of her experiments and you are one huge success my dear. I should know cos I test drive you every night, except of course when I’m indisposed or sharing you.”

“I hope you don’t share me out too much mistress.”

“Why? Didn’t you like Dawn?”

“Well, - yes mistress, but, - you know. A sissy needs her mistress.”

“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head darling. I won’t abuse that beautiful little cock and body of yours. I’m not some sort of cruel pimp. I know when I’ve got a good deal. Now, - drive darling, we’re a little late. It’s Christmas Eve darling. The sooner we finish the sooner we get home.”

Where Simone and Michelle make new friends and discover useful ways ways to supplement their incomes.

Give me a high five!

The Sissy Farm.

Chapter 26

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
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.

Simone and I arrived at Andre’s salon a little late and we felt a little sheepish when we met two of our regular customers waiting at the door. Trixie, our receptionist had the Christmas Eve off because of family commitments.

“Sorry we’re late Miss Dawkins. Car wouldn’t start.” Simone lied as I quickly set about work.
Fortunately Shirley Dawkins was a pleasant woman and she expressed no anger, in fact she actually complimented us after grinning knowingly. She had just sussed us out.

“I’m just pleased you’re open on Christmas Eve. It means I can go home with my hair intact and smart. It was hell on the exchanges all week. I’m just glad the markets are closed today. It’s the only bloody Chance I’ve got. Moment I’ve finished up here I’ve got some last minute presents to buy.”

Simone smiled welcomingly as she turned to address the other customer Jasmine.

“If you’ll both just take you seats, Michelle is ready for you now.”

“The other girl was Shirley’s trading associate so as they settled into their seats they immediately started discussing commodities and options.” As Simone washed and shampooed their hair I held out some styles from Andre’s book and suggested what I thought suitable. They made their choices and I started preparing. During this time they fell to discussing some currency exchange deals factoring various percentages and probabilities. Having a keen interest in maths but only as it interested me for leisure and my personal entertainment; I couldn’t help but eves-drop. They were discussing a deal that was coming up after Christmas and both girls weren’t sure of the outcome based on different volumes, percentages and risks.
Shirley turned to me and asked.

“Midge, can you get me my calculator from my bag?”

I was still waiting for Simone to finish up the shampooing so I had nothing to do and I reached into Shirley’s bag only to discover that her trading calculator with its programmable chip was not there. I showed her the bag and she cursed furiously.

“Dammit I know I put it in there. I nearly dropped it when I moved the forex trading file. Where the fuck can it be? I need those figures to work over Christmas at home; - well I’ll need the calculator with the programme at least.”

“Can you not go back to the office after you finish up here?” I suggested.

“No it’s all time locked from Saturday until Dec 28th. I’ll want the figures first thing on the 27th for the Tokyo markets because the Asian markets will be open on line. I’ll be doing some trading from home. Damn! Damn! Damn!

“So which calculations d’you need?" I asked, not really thinking it was that important.

"Oh the Forex predictions for the pound — dollar fluctuations."

“Are those equasions based on Fourier analysis?” I asked casually.

“Partly,” Shirley replied frowning curiously, “what d’you know about Fourier?”

“Oh, a little bit. I used to like sums at school.”

I noticed the pair share a patronising smile then one of them composed a little calculation, based on a sliding exchange rate over a fixed period to determine the most likely probability of profit — loss ratio. They had to repeat the values because I hadn’t been expecting the nature of the final answer but after they had rolled their eyes and sniggered condescendingly, they repeated the figures. As I lifted Shirley’s hair to check the collar line I casually gave them the answer before continuing to bend my knees as I double checked the hair line. I had deliberately made a point of being more concerned with getting the hair style right than the answer to the maths. Both Shirley and Jasmine who were maths graduates from Yale, and rated as top traders in the city, let out simultaneous gasps of astonishment.

“How did you do that?!!!” Jasmine screeched.

“Do what?” I replied unconcernedly as I continued nonchalantly styling Shirley’s hair. (It was my turn to be patronising.)

“That sum!! That calculation girl. How the hell did you do it?!!!”

“How do you know it’s right?” I countered, “I could just be bull-shitting.”

“Because that was the last big trade Jasmine and I pulled off before Friday’s close of play. It took us nearly five minutes with the aid of the computer to get it right. That was the correct answer because several of our other trading associates agreed before we made the trade.”

“Well then it must be right; so there you are.” I shrugged and finally gave Simone the mirror to show Shirley her hair as I turned to finishing Jasmine’s

It was only then that I noticed the disbelieving incredulity in both of the market trader’s expressions. I decided to have some more fun.

“What! What are you staring at me like that for?”

Shirley croaked as her voice betrayed her astonishment.

“What are you doing styling hair girl? You could be making millions trading the markets!”

I shrugged again, enjoying myself immensely.

“I like doing hair. I like being creative. Anyway, it’s not all about money.It's about my favourite lifestyle.”

Shirley ignored my ‘throw away’ remark and persisted.

“Could you do another calculation like that?”

“Suppose so. What sort of calculation?”

Jasmine stared at me through the mirror then gave me a problem. After double checking the figures again, (just to wind the pair up,) I gave them an answer. This time it was a straight forward four function iteration to solve a simple polynomial, transcendental equation. Meat and drink to me for it just involved long complex, high value numbers. The actual maths was fairly simple.

After giving them the answer which proved to be four simple numbers I realised that Jasmine had given me another complex problem that resulted in a simple answer. The four required values turned out to be one, two, four and eight. I grinned as I recognised the simple series. The problem could easily be ‘back-calculated’ to confirm its accuracy. Even so starting from the unknowns of the beginning involved holding and handling huge numbers in one’s head.

Jasmine gaped at me as I gave her hair the finishing touches and avoided meeting her gaze.

“How the hell did you hold those numbers in your head? They’re huge!”

I smirked.

“The secret is not to try and hold them for long or you’ll forget them. Do the maths quickly so you don’t have to remember the numbers for long, then write down the answer on paper. It’s easy.”

Shirley was studying me thoughtfully.

“If I phoned you on December 27th could you do a couple of those sums for me, say around four in the afternoon.”

I grinned and exchanged a knowing grin with Simone.

“If I’m awake. It’s one of our few days off. We’re going clubbing on Boxing night and we could be out till late. My mistress might require me for sissy duties. Anyway, I thought you were going home to your parents.”

“Not quite,” Jasmine interjected. “We are both going home to my dad’s.”

“Oh.” I replied disinterestedly.

Far be it from me to wonder about other people’s family arrangements but Shirley felt bound to offer an explanation.

“My parents and Jasmine’s mum don’t approve of us but Jasmine’s dad is okay with it and he’s divorced.”

“Oh.” I finished, still disinterested but the pair were determined to tell us about themselves now that they new Simone and I were an item.

“We’ve been together since freshman year.” Boasted Shirley.

“And.” I shrugged again.

It was lunch time and Simone and I were hungry for we had missed a proper breakfast because of Dawn’s intervention. We were looking forward to a meal in Angelina’s, our favourite diner across the street.

“Can we get you lunch?” Shirley offered.

Simone and I exchanged glances; we could see no harm so we agreed. The next appointments were for two o’clock. We had two hours to kill, not many people had their hair styled this late on Christmas Eve unless they lived extremely busy lives. After cashing up the money, Simone and I joined Shirley and Jasmine at our regular table across the street. Angelina’s partner immediately came to see us. He knew us well as regulars and had been an old friend of Andre’s before I had come to work at the salon. He took our orders and we settled down to chat. Shirley and Jasmine were eager to learn more about my maths tricks.

“They’re not tricks,” I protested, “I’ve just got this maths thing in my head. It ticks like a computer.”

“Is it there all the time?” Shirley wondered. “Does it affect your personality and stuff, make you into an automaton; - a philistine.”

“No!” I protested again. “No; I can switch it on and off when I want! Do I look like a philistine?” I felt a bit insulted for I took great care with my appearance and my clothes. I considered philistines to be disinterested in art and style and things beautiful and all things cultural.

“Well; no, it’s just that the math thing, it’s just that mathematicians tend to be so immersed.”

“Well I’m not immersed, - as you put it. I like music and fashion and clothes, - and hair of course. I only do maths stuff at college or very rarely at home.”

“Ain’t that the truth! I’ve never seen her do it except just now,” Simone interjected on my behalf. “She normally keeps it for her college work. And she doesn’t do much of that!”

“Oh, so you’re at college then, where, Harvard, Yale, MIT?” Jasmine asked.

“No, New York State. We’re not millionaires.”

“You should be at MIT. With a brain like yours you should be on their fast track. Building rockets or something.”

“What! Stuck all the way out in the boon-docks! So how would I work for Andre’? How would I get into New York every day for work. New York is where I want to be. New York is where it’s at! Clubs, glamour, culture, everything! Maths is just something stuck in my head, like musicians or artists have their talents. It doesn’t necessarily mean I have to be a mathematician or even like maths. I far prefer hair styling. I don’t want to be ‘fast-tracked’ as you put it. Anyway, where do those tracks lead to; - burn out as I seem to recall.”

“Give me freedom and give me hair! Is that it?” Shirley chuckled.

“Well, - yes actually. If that’s how it is then, - yes. Ah, here’s grub.” I sighed contentedly as Lucian arrived with the large tray.

“Where’s Angelina?” Simone asked; for Angeline usually waited on the tables while Lucian cooked.

“It’s Christmas Eve; she’s gone shopping with the kids. After you’ve finished, I’m closing up.”
Having exchanged polite small talk with Lucian we pitched into our food then Simone’s mobile rang. She handed it to me.

“It’s Dawn, for you.”

“Hi darling. I’ve been shopping and I’m coming over with your presents before I head off home.”

“Oh. Hold on love, we’re not at the salon, we’re having lunch with two customers.”

“Okay, I’ll leave them in the back-room. See you in the new year.”

That suited us. We’d be back at the salon by about a quarter to two so we continued eating. Then it started to snow, and snow and snow and snow.

At two o’clock the appointments cancelled their bookings. At four o’clock Dawn phoned to say her flight had been cancelled due to bad weather.

“So why are you calling us?” Wondered Simone.

“Cos I’m going to be stuck in New York all on my own.” I haven’t even got any food in my apartment. I ran everything down before planning on going home. The show doesn’t start again until after Christmas. Can I eat with you on Christmas day, I hate the idea of being stuck in my apartment all on my bloody own.”

Simone turned to me.

“Looks like one extra over Christmas. I’ll pop down to the store to get some extra food in.”

Since the bookings were cancelled we were doing nothing at the salon, I locked up the salon and joined her on the shopping expedition. We were just entering the store on the corner of our block when Simone’s phone rang again. It was the same thing again. Shirley and Jasmine’s flight had also been cancelled.

“Well they can’t stay over, I protested. There isn’t room. Besides, they’ve got a fancy apartment down town.”

“No but it’s the same as Dawn. They’ve run the food down and shops are closing. They just want to share Christmas dinner cos they’ll be alone. They’re at Kennedy and asking what they need to bring for extra supplies. They’ll stop at a store.”

I racked my brains as I tried to remember what we might run short of but Simone anticipated me as she spoke to them.

“Just find a deli and bring a whole bunch of extra fancy stuff. Drinks and sweets and pastries and stuff, oh and some extra puddings and sauce. We’re at the corner shop now and we can double up on the ordinary stuff down here, - milk, sugar, veg and stuff.”

As we entered the shop, the owner who knew us well was just about to close, Simone and I frowned at the weather. The snow was getting thick so we doubled up on all our purchases. With the shopping sorted, we returned home to find Dawn shivering on the doorstep. When she’d left, not expecting to return, she had posted the apartment key through our letterbox. The snow had already gathered on the shoulders and hood of her stylish parka and overnight bag. She helped us with the extra stores and grinned eagerly. “Preparing for a siege are we?”

“Dunno how long this’ll last. Just look at it.” Simone replied.

Dawn shuddered.

“Glad I’m staying over with you two. Oh, I see you’ve bought an extra bird. Does that mean I’m sleeping over?”

Simone and I exchanged knowing smiles. This wasn’t all about the snow. Dawn caught our smiles and blushed.

“Well. It was nice wasn’t it? Anyway, three bodies are warmer than two. Won't Santa get a surprise when he's filling our stockings?”

“Yes Dawn.” Simone and I replied in unison. “However,” Simone added, “we’ve got more guests coming over tomorrow. There’ll be five for Christmas dinner.”

Her smile faded.

“Oh are they staying over?”

“No. They share an apartment but just don’t fancy sitting down as two people on Christmas day. They got snowed out as well. They’ll be coming over in the morning. They’re long term customers of Andre so we thought we’d extend the invitation. It’ll be nice having five for dinner.”

“You mean Andre does their hair?”

“Yes.”

“So they’re two girls, - sharing an apartment, are they an item?”

“Yes,” Simone replied, “most of Andre’s customers are girls, d’you have a problem with them being an item?”

“Heck no! Well not the item bit but will they realise about me, and Midge and the hair thing for the show?”

“We’ll just have to be careful.” I added.

“And then some. We’d better get our story off pat.”

We concocted a story as we packed away the goods but it turned out not to be necessary. Shirley and Jasmine weren’t in to musicals or shows and whilst recognising Dawn they weren’t aware of the hair saga. After eating a Christmas Eve meal Dawn couldn’t wait to go clubbing. The club was open but many regulars were missing because of the snow. The mood was lively however and we had plenty of space to strut our stuff on the dance-floor. It was a happy trio that picked its way the few steps through the deepening snow back to our apartment. It was an even happier trio that cuddled up tight in bed.

Early the next morning, I put the bird in to roast and started preparations for the meal. At ten we got a progress report from
Shirley and Jasmine. The snow was two feet deep on the sidewalks but not drifting. They had half a mile left to walk because no subways or taxis were moving and like everybody else, they were walking down the centre of the ploughed streets. We wondered if they didn’t know anybody with a hummer or something but they were in a high old mood. The snow had made everybody friendly as people did what they had to do to get where they wanted to go. At one stage they had used their good looks to hitch a lift on a snow-plough along with about three others until the driver had to put them off as he passed the depot. The snow certainly added to the Christmas spirit. Eventually at eleven they arrived bearing gifts. It was hugs and smiles all around as preparations went apace and by one we were sitting down.

As we savoured the delights and lingered at the table getting steadily mellower, (drunker to our cousins across the pond.) nobody noticed that the snow had begun to fall again with avengance. Then at eight o’clock somebody remembered the time and pulled back the curtain. We all gasped at the sight that greeted us. There was no way Shirley and Jasmine were walking back that night for the snow was nearly three feet thick and the thermometer had dropped like a stone.

“You’ll freeze!” Squealed Dawn when Shirley broached the idea.

“So what do we do?” Jasmine wondered.

“Sleep over.” Simone offered.

“What! Five in a bed. Are you serious”

“It’s a big bed.” Simone added. “And it’s warm.”

Shirley and Jasmine exchanged salacious smiles as Jasmine remarked.

“Well, we’re all girls together. The old priest can’t complain.”

Simone, Dawn and I swapped amused smiles but said nothing and having settled the overnight issue we continued enjoying the evening.

Later of course my and Simone’s breasts needed emptying and the pair of traders could not believe their eyes when they asked Dawn where we had gone and why so long.

“What are they doing in there?” Shirley wondered.

Dawn said nothing but when we eventually emerged from the shower room we were forced to explain our thirty minute absence. Naturally at first, the pair would not believe us but when we showed them the milking machine and the bottled milk already packaged for the orphanage they had to accept it. Milking dominated the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the evening.
Eventually, the morning’s tramp through the snows took its toll on Shirley and Jasmine. Eyelids started to droop and we soon decided to retire for the night. As I undressed, the pair could not help looking at my wasp-thin waist as their jaws sagged at the ‘merry widow’.

“Good God! How small is your waist?!!”

“Eighteen inches,” I confessed.

“Is that the natural size or when your corseted.”

“It’s much the same,” Simone explained. “As a sissy, Michelle’s waist is more or less permanently corseted except for washing so it’s become that shape permanently.”

“Are you going to take it off?” Jasmine wondered.

I glanced at Simone who always made those sorts of decisions. Simone asked the pair.

“Would you prefer her to be corseted or now?”

Shirley looked at me.

“Which would you prefer Michelle? Would you be more comfortable with it off?”

I had to confess.

“I think I’d prefer it on. It gives my back support and I don’t ache.”

Jasmine and Shirley stared again in amazement.

“What! You mean, that is comfortable?”

“I’m a sissy,” I replied, “sissies have small waists and they need support for their tits.”

To demonstrate, I hefted my luscious bouncy orbs and they wobbled invitingly. Both Shirley and Jasmine looked envious.

“Gosh I wish mine were that firm and that big. I mean; - the milking should surely have turned them into udders.”

“No. They stay like this always, I’m a sissy,” I repeated, “it’s what sissies are.”

“Lucky bitch!” Jasmine mumbled softly but with a smile.

I smiled a little self-consciously but Simone had a sly grin on her face. I knew what was coming next.

“So how are we going to organise this sleep-over? Who gets to cuddle who?”

Both Dawn and Simone noticed Shirley and Jasmine eyeing my tits so, as my mistress Simone made an offer.

“D’you two want to cuddle Michelle?”

Both girls fell silent then nodded shyly.

“Mmm. Could we?” croaked Jasmine as lust overtook her voice.

“You’re honoured guests, of course you can.” Simone replied generously. “Dawn and I will be book ends. Just don’t push us out of bed.”

Needing no more encouragement, I was told to slip into the centre while Shirley and Jasmine stripped to their panties and slipped in either side of me. Dawn and Simone took the outside and soon we were cuddling salaciously as Shirley and Jasmine could not keep their hands of my bouncy boobs and waspish waist. They were experienced lovers of course and therefore refrained from just diving into my ‘pussy’; they knew exactly how to get a girl ‘ready’. I could feel the tension emanating from Simone and Dawn as they anticipated the shock that Shirley and Jasmine were about to get. I felt the same tension too. It behoved me to get both girls well worked up and juicy before they learned of my precious ‘secret’! To this end I behaved somewhat ‘virginally’ and giggled coquettishly if knowing hands strayed too close, too early. Shirley and Jasmine quickly caught onto the game and it was fully thirty minutes of salacious groping and caressing before the tension became too much and delicate fingers started to probe inquisitively against my silky sissy- thong with its thick front control panel.

Without actually taking my thong off and getting me properly horny, it was difficult to feel my flaccid sissy cockette through the fabric. It very much felt like a girl with overly large labia under her panties. Shirley and Jasmine continued playing with my ‘labia’ through the material of my sissy-thong for fully fifteen minutes before they realised I wasn’t getting wet. Meanwhile poor Simone and Dawn were getting wet just anticipating the shriek of surprise when the two in the middle did realise everything was not quite as they expected.
Eventually Jasmine felt forced to ask,

“Aren’t you horny yet Midge?”

“I take a little time darling. Perhaps if I slipped off my panties.”

“Mmm. Pleease.” Shirley sighed lustfully.

Gently I pushed their fingers aside then lifted my butt and slipped my thong off in one easy move. As my butt returned to the mattress inquisitive fingers started to delicately trace over my hips and down into the 'Vee' at the top of my thighs. Then and only then did their wanderings stop abruptly as they jointly fetched up against what appeared to be a somewhat hard and oversized clitty. As their fingers met they both felt my ‘clitty’ growing exponentially until it had literally sprouted into its easily recognisable and favourite natural condition. There was a mutual gasp as surprised fingers urgently ‘tested’ the strange development until both girls finally recognised what they were holding in their hands.

"My God!” Shirley squealed then Janice responded.

“It’s a, - it’s a cock!! She’s got a cock!”

I sighed salaciously and couldn’t resist humping gently against their hands but the pair quickly stopped me as they sat up with beaming grins. I lay back with my head on the pillow nervously wondering where they would take this discovery but I needn’t have worried. Simone and Dawn were there to protect me.

Shirley whipped back the huge duvet to expose my surprise and double check that it really was a natural cock. Jasmine’s eyes widened with delight as Dawn complained.

“D’you mind? I’m getting cold!”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Jasmine demanded; ignoring Dawn’s goose bumped protest.

“What’s there to tell?” Simone yawned, feigning disinterest. “You knew she was a sissy. Now can you put the duvet back? I’m getting cold as well.”

“Well, - yes, but I kinda’ thought she was a girl like your sister or something.”

“What! You thought I was sleeping with my sister?”

“Well no, - no, not sleeping with your sister but you know, - like living in the same apartment, sharing and stuff.”

“Well we certainly ‘share and stuff’, including Michelle’s delightful cock, or cockette as we like to call it. You’ll have noticed it’s not ‘full sized’ as it were.”

“Does it work?” Shirley demanded.

“Well of course it works!” Simone grinned. “You’ve just felt it and seen it haven’t you?”

“No! I don’t mean like that, I mean, you know, make fertile sperm.”

“Yee-es it works,” Simone sighed again, “now can we get under the duvet again.”

“Did you hear that Jasmine?” Shirley squeaked. “D’you want to then?

Jasmine needed no encouragement as she pulled the duvet back over our cooling bodies then eagerly slid her eager body over mine.

As she humped passionately, she whispered in my ear.

“I’m right at the best time of my cycle.”

“Oh!” I squeaked, you mean you’re trying, - trying for a baby.”

“You bet. This is just about the best Christmas present you could have given me.”

I immediately double checked with my Mistress Simone who simply acceded.

“If a lady has been given my permission to use you then you must please her in every way you can and as she wants. When we agreed to sleep in this arrangement, I gave my tacit consent so give the lady what she wants. If Jasmine wants a baby then oblige her.”

Who could resist such a consent? With redoubled vigour Jasmine and I were soon addressing Jasmine’s aims. I draw a veil over the remainder of the night. Having made a deal we shared beds until Jasmine’s fertile period was over and we agreed to repeat each month until Jasmine fell pregnant.

On Boxing Day Simone, Dawn and I were taking an easy one and lounging about stuffing our faces with cold turkey and assorted puddings. Shirley and Jasmine were on their phones in the late evening trading the far eastern markets. The snow was still thick and falling intermittently so Shirley and Jasmine could not return to their apartment where their computers lay idle. Although the snow was lying over three feet thick it was still only a couple of doors to the club from our apartment and being as Dick and Charlie lived over, we decided to go to the club. It was desperately quiet for only a few clubbers had made it through the snow. Dick decided to close up early.

When we stumbled back from the club at nearly midnight Shirley was waiting to pounce on me.

“Bev! Ah good, I’m glad your back.”

“Why?” I asked as I stamped the snow off my Uugh boots.

“Well you know you promised to do those equations in your head.”

“Ye-ees,” I replied non-commitedly.

“Can you do these?”

She handed me a piece of paper with about eight complex equations with very high values. I looked at them and frowned.

“These are big numbers.”

“They’re dollar yen trades. There’s billions of dollars riding on the deal and hundreds of billions of Japanese yen.”

“Jee’ze,” I wondered aloud, why such big bloody numbers.

“That’s nothing; you just wait until the Forex market opens. The pound dollar trades are infinitely bigger.”

“So when will that be then?” I asked.

“Not until after the new year. London’s like New York, the trading floors are closed. These trades with Tokyo are exceptional because our trading floors aren’t open. These are private deals for private clients and we haven’t got access to daily figures except by dealing directly with our colleagues in Tokyo.”

“Oh,” I said then had another thought. “Are these trade legal, I mean with the New York exchange being closed?”

“Yes, we’re licensed traders and the global markets never close. We’re actually putting these deals through our Tokyo associates.”

I shrugged, cos’ I knew no better and I ran the figures through my head. When I scanned the answers I remarked.

“Doesn’t seem much to me, zero point nought, nought, nought, two percent.”

“And what’s that as a fraction of one hundred billion dollars Midge?”

“Ahh yes, of course! I wasn’t thinking like that, it was just figures rolling through my head. Yeah. See what you mean now.

That’s a lorra’ lorra’ dosh! So, - somebody’s making some real money.”

Shirley exchanged a slightly embarrassed smile with Jasmine and I suddenly clicked.

“Shit! Some of this is your own money then!”

They blushed and nodded their heads as Simone chipped in.

“D’you always win?”

“No,” Jasmine replied, “but we are two of the most successful traders in our office.”

“So. Do I get my cut then? Being as I did the maths.”

“You’re welcome. Just open a trading account at our office in the New Year and we’ll guide you through the deals.”

Simone, Dawn and I exchanged thoughtful looks, this warranted further scrutiny.

I'm now writing this story 'On the hoof'. That is with no following chapter written. I've got chapter 28 vaguely mapped out but who knows where this is going now. Get ready for 'an interesting ride'.

Beverly

The Sissy farm 27.
Chapter 27

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
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 Friends from New York.

After ‘The Christmas Snows’, New York did not get back to normal until the New Year. Andre returned home from Europe with lots of new ideas and our lives settled down to their new routines except that Dawn became a regular friend while Shirley and Jasmine took me into their confidences with their trading. They showed me their particular analysis techniques and trading systems and for some fun in my spare time I tweaked some of their formulas to make them marginally more accurate. Like the clever girls they were, they did not reveal these revised formulae to their colleagues but kept them securely stored in their stand alone ‘lap-tops’. In fact Shirley approached the day after she had tested my revised formulae and advised me to patent them or at least patent the modifications.

“These really work girl! Jasmine and I made millions on just a couple of shadow trades.”

I smiled at her across the supper table for they had come dashing around that very same evening totally overwhelmed with their results.

“I wish you’d show us how you devised those formulas. If we understood the structuring, we might be able to refine them even further. We’re dealing with microscopic margins I know; but the sums are so large.”

I smiled enigmatically.

“You show me the factors and the results of your shadow trades today then I might run re-iterations on the formulas and boost their accuracy. It’s a bit like chicken and egg now. By the way, do you apply them to commodity trading as well as currency?”

“Eh. Our desks do currency but I suppose we could do commodities. The factors are wider though, weather predictions, fuel costs, leading to transport costs and there’s food politics involved as well. To tell the truth, neither Shirley nor I have ever bothered much with commodities; - foods or minerals. You have to depend so much on analysis developed by your colleagues, - you know, ‘ear to the ground stuff’. What their ‘gut feelings’ are. It’s all a bit airy-fairy.”

I smiled again enigmatically them jokingly made a profound observation.

“Give me an equation long enough and somewhere to rest my laurels then I could move the universe.”

All the girls looked at me obliquely as Simone glanced sideways at me and shook her head as she remarked.

“Don’t even ask. She’s off the wall when she gets into her maths stuff.”

However Shirley caught my drift.

“Was that Newton or Archimedes or pure Michelle?”

“I can’t rightly remember I’m hopeless with authors. Figures, yes, - but authors.” I shrugged Gallicly.

“Yeah,” she replied, “so am I but your principle is right on the button! For Maths, physics and trading,” she grinned.

I grinned back. Shirley had exactly remembered the ancient scientist’s remarks. I made a mental note however to remember to respect Shirley’s intellect in future. For she had also left the other girls wondering where in the hell we two were coming from. The conversation fell momentarily silent but soon sparked up again as we fell to other topics, Like when was Jasmine going to do a pregnancy test.

“Jee’ze! Get off my case girls I haven’t even missed my period yet!”

“So when’s it due?” Dawn asked.

“Next week if you must know.”

“Gosh, that’s a long period how many days are you normally?”

“That’s none of your business!” Jasmine snapped.

“She’s a five weeker.” Shirley interjected.

We all fell silent.

“Five weeks!” Gasped Simone, “Jee’ze what are you, an elephant or something?”

“How d’you manage your pills and stuff?”

“Will you lot get off my case. I’m just a long time between periods, usually thirty four to thirty six days. And as to the pills, well the doc keeps tabs, he has to. I get a special prescription sachet made up.”

“I hope you’re not an alien.” I chuckled. “I don’t want my kid coming out with six legs and a tail.”

“Listen! Just shut it will you! Any way you’re a fucking freak as well!”

The table fell painfully silent as we all realised the joke had gone too far. Simone stepped in and changed the subject.

“So, when does Michelle start to see the benefits of these new trading equations?”

“A couple of months,” Shirley replied. “We went long on some today and we’ll see the benefits in a couple of months, if everything does as we expect.”

Simone and I were a little disappointed. We had kind of expected to see the benefits after a couple of weeks. After a tearful set of apologies about Jasmines unusual cycle she explained.

“I’m just so desperate to have a baby. It’s every girl’s right, even a lesbian’s. Will you promise me that you’ll persevere if it doesn’t happen this time?”

“Well I’d love to darling but it’s up to Simone, she’s my mistress.”

Jasmine turned tearfully to Simone then squealed with delight as Simone nodded assent. Then she explained.

“Because my cycle is so unusual, the doctors aren’t sure if I can conceive. Something about my birth canal being too acid or something. Well even if I am a sour, bitter old bitch I’m sure it’s happened this time. It feels different. There’s a sort of ‘heaviness’ deep inside me. They say it’s an old wives tale but I’m sure there’s something in it. If my miss my period, it’ll be the first time ever.”

I leaned across to kiss her and we hugged to reinforce our friendship. Jasmine seemed such a fragile delicate thing that evening.
Thus our friendship continued. Shirley and Jasmine didn’t come around every night because they were trading late some evenings to make the Far East markets. Though with Dawn’s late theatre hours it was not unusual to see the lights burning in our apartment during the small hours. Finally the day came and it was tremendous news. Jasmine had missed her period and the tests had proved positive. That was an emotional night.

Later on, Shirley and Jasmine were pleased to confirm that our trading options were gaining value and they explained the leverages. When we came out at the end we were up several thousands of dollars. A tidy sum for two ‘down at heel’ students.
The nest egg grew with each put and by the time Simone and I had graduated there was a bloody useful nest egg sitting in our account. That summer for the first time, we were able to fly home business class and we returned to Old Earl Weston’s house like conquering heroes. Shirley and Jasmine were also keen to meet my relations so they accompanied us over as a holiday.

“A grandmother’s got a right to meet the mother of her grandchildren.” They declared in the taxi as it slipped up the approach lane off the motorway and turned onto the road that eventually led to my Uncle’s home.
Simone and I exchange surprised looks. We had never talked much about our family in America. Simone turned to me and remarked.

“You’d better enlighten them Michelle.”

I explained to Jasmine that I was technically an orphan but I had an auntie who had taken me in with my sister Janice.

“On the Paternal Side, your baby will only have an auntie Janice and a great aunt and great uncle.”

We then went on to describe our family in depth and both Shirley and Jasmine were shocked to learn that their baby’s great uncle was a baronet and his great-great uncle was an Earl. Jasmine smiled as she patted the tiny bump.

“Does that mean he could grow up as a chinless wonder if he’s a boy?”

“My lips curved ever so slightly as I smiled coyly.”

“Just pray she’s a little girl Jasmine, the boys in my family often turn out a bit strange. I was a tranny, my uncle Jamie is a tranny and Earl Weston’s father was a tranny.”

Jasmine’s smile faded.

“You say you were a tranny.”

“Yes, until I became a sissy. Now I’m so much a female now, the word tranny hardly applies.”

Jasmine looked me up and down critically.

“Well ain’t that the truth but you’ve still got what it takes.”

I smiled a little self-consciously as Jasmine patted the lap of my micro-skirt. With that Shirley, who’d commandeered the front seat of the cab, gave a squeak of disbelief.

“Crikey, does your auntie live in a gated community or something?”

Simone and I exchanged self conscious smiles as I confessed.

“Uuhhm, no. Those are our gates, well my great uncle’s gates. This is Earl Weston’s estate.”

“What d’you mean?” Jasmine wondered as Shirley suddenly gave a louder shriek.

“Eeeya! Shit! Is that your house, err mansion, castle or whatever?”

I nodded.

“Well, yes, - actually. Though it’s not mine and never will be. My Auntie Bev married the earl’s son but because we’re my Auntie Bev’s adopted children we call it home. Old Earl Weston likes us to live there with a whole pile of other family.”

“Shit!” Jasmine gasped. “It’s fucking beautiful, no wonder you wanted to come home.”

As the taxi scuffed to a noisy halt on the gravel two little children scampered eagerly down the steps, these were my twin cousins and adoptive half brother and half sister (Can a family get much more complicated than that?) and they were accompanied by Auntie Beverly and the old earl who was still going strong into his nineties. Simone and I could not prevent the single tears of happiness that leaked down our cheeks. We had not realised how much we missed the old place. Auntie Bev and Old Earl Weston hugged us for long moments before extending the proper courtesies to Shirley and Jasmine.

Immediately they were settled in, both Shirley and Jasmine demanded the grand tour. Simone delegated me to the task of guide because I was ‘one of the family’ and had known the house from childhood. Wearily I hauled the pair off and showed them every part of the house and they were mildly surprised that I even took them into other family member’s bedrooms.

“Don’t they mind if you go into their rooms?” Shirley wondered.

I shrugged, “The maids do it all the time. If you’ve got secrets you’re ashamed of, this is hardly the place to come and stay. Though in truth, the ‘maids’ have as many secrets as the family. All our maids are alternative life-stylers."

We spent so long traipsing around the house that Shirley and Jasmine did not meet the rest of the extended family until dinner that evening and what an evening it was. Everybody knew of our homecoming so everybody had made the effort. The last to turn up, as they inevitably always did, were Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny who arrived screeching up the drive and scrunching the gravel as they skidded to a halt at the front door. They strolled arm in arm through the dining room doors just as dinner was starting to be served. Soon the dining room was buzzing with conversation and it proved to be one of the most enjoyable evenings I could remember. The Hottest bit of gossip was that Uncle Arnold had been released from prison having gained remission from his five year sentence for raping me.

“So what will happen now Grandpa?” I asked Earl Weston.

“Well he’s got his own means of support although his divorce will have eaten into that. Truth is I don’t rightly know. All I can say is he better hadn’t show up here looking for some sort of sympathy.”

I saw my Auntie’s Beverly, Jamie and Uncle Penny all nodding confirmation so I let the question rest. I had no reason to anticipate any dangers from that quarter.

Where Michell get's kidnapped and sold into the white slave trade.

28 The Sissy farm.

Chapter 28

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 Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
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 Friends from New York.

We spent two weeks at my childhood haunts and as adults we even swam in the little pool in the forest for the August sun had proved to be unusually warm and enduring. Nearly all of our family of my generation were down home for their various summer vacations. Shirley and Jasmine were enchanted to go skinny dipping especially as adults and wondered how it could be considered legal. We explained that the pool was actually on our land and despite there being public rights of way through the woods, none of them passed within sight of the pool. To get to the pool without permission from our families, an intruder would have to have committed trespass. Furthermore since the advent of the newer housing estates around the village Earl Weston, had been forced to erect secure fences to keep urban idiots out of the private parts of the woods and to protect its precious, antiquity. The County had managed to get it declared as a site of Special Scientific Interest and that gave power to our elbow in erecting fences to prevent uncontrolled access to the stream and the secret pool.

Thus on hot sunny days the whole of my generation could be found laughing and squealing like little kids as we indulged in our childhood memories. Often not without a reflective tear as we recollected our childhoods in the crystal waters of the pool.
Shirley laughingly wondered if the pool was a magic pool with unknown transgendered properties. We all laughed but it was a sobering thought that everybody in the pool that hot afternoon had some degree of deviancy or transgenderism. Thus I recharged my batteries after three years of academic rigour in New York.

During that brief holiday, Shirley and jasmine had learned of Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny’s business interests in London and they were curious to stay in the city. I had some old family stuff to sort out with Auntie Beverly and Squire Weston so Simone, Shirley and Jasmine went up to town on the Monday whilst Janice and I agreed to follow them up on the Tuesday. Janice was driving whilst I was checking over some papers relating to our parent’s estate now that Janice was twenty one and the inheritance had reached its maturity. The final monies had been released by the estate executors and we had to visit the bank. We never noticed the pair of vehicles following us up the motorway until we pulled into a service area. Janice went to get some coffees as I annotated the notes. I suddenly found myself grabbed by strong muscular hands and thrown into the back of a transit van. I tried to resist of course, but I was a sissy and sissies had virtually no physical strength. My kidnapper would have had more trouble kidnapping a kitten!

I recognised him straight away and my blood froze. Uncle William, my Great Uncle Arnold’s son! Because of my total lack of physical strength he hardly had to use any force. That plus my naturally submissive conditioning made it unbelievably easy for him. He simply grabbed my slender shoulder with a seemingly iron vice-like grip and flung me through the sliding side door into the transit that had parked right alongside Janice’s car. It was all over in seconds.

“In there you little bitch and no noise or that slender neck of yours will be snapped like a carrot.”

“What d’you want with me. Let me go!” I whimpered.

“Not likely you little bitch. You owe me and dad big time.”

I sensed now, this had everything to do with his father Uncle Arnold having raped me. Somewhere, not far in the background, Great Uncle Arnold lay waiting.

William took the van onto the motorway again and drove at a sedate rate to avoid drawing attention. White transit vans were probably the most anonymous vehicles in Britain and certainly the best vehicle to avoid any unwanted interest. I knew my situation was desperate. He stopped briefly in a lay by where he handcuffed me and placed a thick sack over my head; I would have no idea where I was being taken. Within a couple of hours I was locked away in the cellar of a remote farmhouse and hidden from the world. I could only wonder what the hell they had planned for me. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
The cellar was equipped with a double bed and all the accoutrements of a whore’s boudoir so there was no doubt what they had in mind. It wasn’t long before my fears were confirmed. The lock turned and my disgusting great uncle Arnold entered with a revolting expression of lust clouding his obscenely wrinkled features. He was in his eighties now but still driven by a perverted lust for young flesh, my flesh! And of course, skulking in the background was his equally obnoxious son William, waiting his turn like some second rate hyena loitering at the kill until the alphas of the clan had finished their pleasure. I knew what was coming and braced for the violence. With loathsome creatures like these two it was invariably preceded with violence. Usually enough to ensure submission and with me that wasn’t much. My mind set was all about survival. I would offer no resistance, resistance and struggle was something that accelerated their predatory instincts bringing them greater pleasure and their victims worse violence.

Arnold advanced almost slavering with anticipation as I stood frozen and unresponsive. He grabbed my slender waist and dragged me tight to him as his other hand worked feverishly to remove my clothes.

“What’s the matter you little bitch? No fight in you now is there?”

I said nothing. My survival plan was to turn myself into an unresponsive slab of meat and hope that nothing I did or said would invite something worse than what was already happening. I noticed that he was not ripping the clothes off me, but slowly removing each item, carefully undoing each button of my blouse then slowly sliding the back zipper of my pencil skirt until I was standing there with just my bra and panties and my wasp-waisted shaper.

Arnold knew what he was getting and he was savouring his dish with all the sick, perverted anticipation of some ghoulish gourmet. He didn’t fling me onto the bed but invited me to lie on it. He knew I would obey, I had no option but he was now twisting my ‘co-operation’ to his own ends. Inside that perverted brain he seemed to think that my co-operation was consent; that I somehow, was looking forward to his brutal attentions.

With a sigh I flopped onto the bed and twisted on my stomach. Memories of his last assault reminded me that he must have had some sort of male-homosexual kink for he obviously preferred to take his victims from the rear. Maybe there was some sort of guilt thing about looking his victims in the face or whatever. I didn’t know and didn’t care. All I knew was that if you were face down you stood less chance of having your face smashed and you couldn’t see the blows coming if you were going to get a beating. It was also easier to curl up into the foetal position from a kneeling or face down position. Once you were curled up it was difficult for an attacker to prise your vulnerable parts apart.

I knelt on the floor and lay face down across the bed thus presenting my sissy hole for the inevitable assault; it wasn’t long coming and I felt my sphincter burning and ripping as he drove cruelly into my soft, vulnerable, unresisting body. All the time the words, ‘survive this, survive this, live to bear witness, survive at all costs!’ were pounding through my terrified brain.
To survive such repeated brutal experiences, those who have been there, (and readers, I am one!) slowly learn to try and get themselves ‘outside their own bodies’; to somehow escape from the body and therefore escape from the immediate pain. The hurt then comes later when you are, (that is if your still alive,) recovering. The immediate advantage during the beating is that your body somehow becomes apparently inured to the pain and you don’t scream or squeal as your attacker would normally expect.
By the same criterion, rape either vaginal or anal becomes immediately less traumatic even though the after-effects can be just as destructive, or more correctly ARE just as destructive!

Suffice to say first Arnold took me then his odious son followed suit then they left me bleeding and battered on the floor with dire warnings not to use the bed until I had stopped bleeding and cleaned myself up. I couldn’t understand this because the bed already had my blood stains smeared all over the sheets and pillows. But logic and common sense obviously counted for nothing in the minds of these brutal psychopaths. Unable to stand, I crawled into the tiny en-suite bathroom and showered for what seemed hours.

When I emerged, to my immense surprise, the sheets had been changed on the bed, some food had been left on the table and to my shock there was a milking machine. I had no idea how or where they had obtained it but it served a vital purpose for now my boobs were aching to lactate. Urgently I evacuated my breasts and sat wondering what to do with the milk. In the end, I left it on the table for I had no idea what their intentions where.

I looked around again hopefully but there was no change of clothes. However my original clothes had been folded and placed by the pillow. This apparent concern left me confused and very suspicious so I took the only reasonable course for mental survival and concluded that they were playing mind games. I checked out my cuts and bruises in the dressing table mirror then concluded that I had more or less stopped bleeding. I also concluded that my face was un-marked and wondered what ulterior motive they had for leaving me thus un-blemished.

There was nowhere else comfortable to lie or sit so I was forced to lie on the bed. I took the only remaining dry bath towel and laid it on the bed to absorb any residual blood marks. Once I had gently lowered my bruised and battered body onto the towel I simply lay still and endured the pain. Not knowing when the next assault was coming I could only guess at the physical healing process.

There were no windows in the cellar so I had no idea of time passing. When I awoke the milk had gone and a clean bottle left; I presumed to be replenished. I did this wondering what they were doing with my milk. And I continued with the routine until I was removed some time later.

I still had no idea of time but I was served several meals and then a foreigner was brought down to the cellar by Uncle William. Naturally he raped me then I was trussed up, and with my head covered again I was taken to some other place. I could tell I was entering a city because the noises were familiar to me. At one stage I heard an electric train and recognised it for the distinctive metallic whine of a London tube train. Nobody can live in London for long and not learn to recognise the distinctive motor whine of the Metro-Cammel rolling stock. Once that identified itself to me I quickly recognised other sounds like the diesel rattle of the black cabs that by their sheer frequency, identify the London streets. So I was in London!

It was dark when they moved me from the van to another bedroom somewhere in London and I was flung onto a bed where I was gratuitously raped again. Then there was the prick of a needle and I remembered nothing after that.
I woke much later with my boobs screaming to be milked and I howled in pain until one of my kidnappers burst angrily into the room. He was about to batter me but saw the milk spurting from my swollen tits and he gasped angrily before bellowing down to his crony. They jabbered away in some foreign language then I heard the man who had brought me screaming down the phone to somebody else demanding to know why they hadn’t been told I had milk and where was the fucking baby.

I didn’t hear the reply but about two hours later another car pulled up outside the house and Uncle Arnold arrived in a furious mood. He seemed to think that I was responsible for not bringing the milking machine with me and once again I had to curl up into a ball until he had vented his ire. The foreigner stood looking impassively then casually told my uncle to stop or I’d be no good for business with my body all bruised and battered. Uncle Arnold reluctantly stopped then stormed out of the room and left me to the foreigner. He explained bluntly what I was there for. Their enterprise needed a bit of variety to cater to different needs. I was to serve as a transvestite prostitute. Then he left and I was left to carefully place the milking machine on my agonised nipples. It was almost an hour and I had to empty the bottle load down the lavatory once before I finally evacuated all my excess milk. I left the almost full second bottle on the boarded up windowsill unsure of what they wanted to do with it.
I presumed it was morning when I awoke. I could not see out of the boards but light filtered through and I knew it was daylight. Then the door opened and one of my captors came in with some food. He looked at the milk I had left on the windowsill, grinned then tasted it. His smile widened and he drank a pile before calling down to his mates. I don’t know what was said but it was obviously something about my milk because they all tasted it and grinned like the pigs they were.
After breakfast the guard arrived and watched as I attended to my milking. He leered and made mooing sounds as he held his hands to his head and stuck his fingers out to represent horns. I did not smile but he snatched the first bottle off me then grinned greedily as he watched the second bottle filling up. Then he snatched the bottles off me, drank one and took the other down to his cronies.

I did not smile but I felt a visceral thrill tingling through my aching body as I realised the idiots were drinking my milk.
‘Right you bastards’ I thought. ‘Let’s see how long before you become addicted and before you sprout tits?’
It wasn’t long.

Despite my being subjected to a constant stream of clients every day, my milk continued to flow and my guards became progressively more addicted. So much so that they started fighting amongst themselves for the main share. Just like heroin addicts fighting for the last hit.

I tried to explain to them that I would need more high protein food to increase production but the language barrier proved insurmountable and by the end of what seemed to be a week the guards were at each other’s throats.
Eventually some guy was brought to me to try and understand what I was saying. I explained that without the proper diet my milk flow would decrease not improve and he explained this to the guards. I also lied and told them I would have to go to the chemist with a prescription to collect the necessary additives and high protein supplements. The biggest lie was that I had to present in person at the chemists to confirm the dosages and frequencies.

Had I been just an ordinary whore, they would probably have snuffed me out and thrown me into the Thames but by now, the guards bodies were screaming for my milk. Adults exposed to my milk after the onset of puberty reacted furiously to the hormones in my milk. When they brought me that last meal before settling for the night before the visit to the pharmacists, I noticed both guards were constantly scratching their tits. A sure sign that their bodies were also reacting to other stimuli. That night was the first time I slept a little easier.

During my time at the brothel, I had occasionally met other girls from foreign countries who were also imprisoned there. I could tell they were foreign but because we were not allowed to speak I had no idea of their various nationalities.
In my bed that night. I pricked my arm with my nail and wrote a message on my petticoat in blood. Somehow I would get it to the pharmacist while she appeared to be filling my prescription.

That is exactly how I arranged it.

The next morning I managed to extract a considerable amount of milk before the guards came to rouse me and I poured it down the pan. Then after breakfast my tits did not produce much milk, just enough to tantalise the guard’s cravings.
By crude signs I explained that my tits were dry because I needed the hormones and protein supplements to resume normal production.
Angrily the guards conceded my argument but throughout the trip to the pharmacists, they were tetchy and on edge, mainly through an insufficient dose of my sissy milk.

When we arrived at the pharmacy they were so distracted that I managed to slip my petticoat off and fling it across the counter before they realised what I had done. Then I whispered urgently to the bemused pharmacist.

“Get the police to look at that petty coat and tell them it’s urgent.”

With that my guard came over to see what the delay was but the pharmacists had only started filling the prescription. She handed me the boxes and I passed them to my guard to help me carry them out. I knew he was armed and that he would probably use the gun, (most likely on me,) if I tried to somehow escape. The only safe strategy was to pretend I had ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ and appear to be co-operating with the thugs. We returned to the house in West London and I was dumped back into my cell. That afternoon I had to entertain several clients before I finally heard the commotion down stairs. Shots were fired and screams followed but I had already jammed my bed and table and chair against the door. I could not protect the other girls but I would sure as hell do what I could to protect myself. Eventually the crashing and banging subsided and there was a knock on my door.

“Midge! Is that you? Are you in there? It’s okay, it’s over!

I recognised Simone’s voice and finally found the strength to cry as I struggled to un jamb the furniture from behind the door. Then the door burst open and a huge armed copper crashed into the room.

“You all right love?” he shouted as Simone dashed in behind him and flung herself at me. Wailing with relief.
I glanced tearfully over Simone’s shoulder and nodded as he checked out the room and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes then”