One Christmas a bully named Rocco received a gift from his mother Alexis and sister Aileen. The gift set Rocco on a path of self discovery but also of pain and humiliation as he learned about his new life.

Adriana's Addictions
by SissyKimmy1
PDF version, may be easier on the eyes.

Session One: The Doll

The tall, beautiful woman dressed casually in jeans and a tight shirt smiled and accepted the cash from the mother and winked slyly towards the daughter. “So it's settled then, your stupid bully brother will become the perfect bullying victim, a huge sissy fag.”

The daughter, Aileen, smiled at her mother. She was a beautiful girl, thin and attractive with long brunette hair. “Oh, thank you so much. This will be so good for him in the end.”

The mother, Alexis, an older and a bit plumper but still attractive black haired woman responded quickly. “I don't care if it's good for him or not. He's messed up for the last time. As long as this puts him in his place and keeps him from causing any more trouble I'll be happy. I don't care how you do it, Lucinda.”

The tall blonde woman nodded. “He won't cause any more problems. I'm just so sorry I'm not set up to alter his appearance yet. Moving in all my new equipment has been hell. I was out of business to reevaluate and perfect my methods for quite a while. You saw the pictures of my previous projects, right?”

Aileen responded with a shrug, “Didn't get a chance to, but I don't want to alter his appearance that much anyway. I'm sure you can handle whatever will be necessary. Until he gets what's coming to him I don't want him to look that girly anyway. If he wants to change after that it will be up to him.”

Alexis nodded, “If they just see him as a pretty little girl no one will want to bully him, they look so helpless and cute and could never be a threat worth bothering with.”

Lucinda looked towards the window and sighed heavily, she spoke softly under her breath, “...she did look so helpless.”

Alexis inquired, “What was that?”

Lucinda shrugged and regained her jovial mood. “Oh, nothing, just thinking of one of my other recent cases. Yes, for this one only subtle changes. Slow and steady I'll destroy his ego and his male mind, take him down peg by peg. His sissification will be all in his head, no changes to his appearance until he comes to you and begs for them. We'll start him off with a dolly.”

The mother and the daughter looked at the other woman with blank faces wondering how the bullying brother would possibly react when offered a doll.

Lucinda laughed, “Just bring him to me for a session, trick him if you have to. I'll make sure he wants to come back. Let me explain how it will work....”

Rocco never remembered the Doctor's appointment his mother took him to in late December, but it certainly changed his life.

The boy, Rocco, was black haired and muscular. He was not too tall but not too short, and he had a very handsome face the girls loved. Rocco was very happy with the Christmas gifts he had received so far. A PS3 and two of the games he had asked for, he was planning to give his mother a hard time later for not getting the third, but another gift ended up taking up all of his attention. Despite his current excitement, the game console wouldn't even be opened.

All his sister had gotten were some new clothes. From his perspective it was obvious who was top dog around this house. She didn't look bothered at all though. When he tried to needle her about it she just looked at him and smiled, “Mother got me a secret gift. Maybe I'll tell you about it some day.”

The girl peaked under the tree. There was another gift there the boy hadn't noticed. It was wrapped in bright pink wrapping paper with a huge white bow. It looked like something for the girl, but when she looked at the label she exclaimed, “Oh, this one is for you too Rocco, what could it be?”

The boy took the package and scratched his head. The gift said, “To: Rocco. From: Mommy and Aileen.” It was a strange choice of wrapping paper, but a gift is a gift. The boy tore apart the wrapping and stared at the gift, transfixed.

It was an “American Girl” doll. The box said her name was Ruthie. She wore a floral purple dress with puffed sleeves, frilly light blue socks with black Mary Jane shoes, and a purple hairbow. She had wavy, dark brown hair. There was also a book in the box that said it told the story of a girl named Ruthie growing up during the Great Depression. Aileen giggled a bit at her brother's strange reaction to the gift.

Alexis spoke, “Oh, we must have put the wrong label on that one. That is for your baby cousin, Tammy. Her birthday is right after Christmas. We can wrap it back up before we send it to her.”

Rocco still stared admiringly at the gift.

Aileen giggled some more, “It looks like he really wants it though. We don't want to disappoint him on Christmas, let him keep it if he wants. I think it's cute he wants to play with dolls. Maybe it will help him stop pretending to be such a tough guy.”

Rocco glared at his sister angrily, his gaze finally torn from the doll. “I don't want to play with any stupid doll and I'm not pretending anything. You know that as well as anyone. I was just trying to figure out why the hell you would give me one. You're stupid, I'm gonna go set up my PS3.”

He picked up the box with the console and and took it up to his room. The girls noticed he had completely forgotten to bring the games.

When he got upstairs he angrily dropped the box he was carrying and laid down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. He couldn't explain it, it made no sense, but he WANTED THAT DOLL. He had no idea why he wanted it, or what he would do with it when he got it, but he spent the rest of the day plotting a way to get it without alerting them that it was gone and thinking up ways to hide it so they didn't know he was the one who had it.

The next day his mother gave him exactly the opportunity he was looking for. She ordered him to take the newly wrapped doll and a few other stray gifts over to the post office. It was simple to send away the rest and sneak the doll back to the house. He would just claim it must have gotten lost in the mail when it never arrived.

He sat on his bed with the newly opened package in front of him. He felt so giddy he thought he might faint. For some reason he couldn't even begin to explain, he felt a little aroused. He carefully removed the doll from its package and held it in his arms. An overwhelming sense of joy enveloped him, he smiled at the doll in thoughtless glee.

At that very moment his sister barged into his room. She started to giggle, it developed into raucous laughter in his direction.

“I KNEW you wanted it. Mom come look!”

Almost as if she had been waiting just outside of the room Alexis quickly followed Aileen and joined in her laughter in the boy's direction.

Aileen chanted, “Rocco loves Ruthie! Rocco loves Ruthie! Rocco and Ruthie, sitting in a tree...”

The boy tossed the doll across the room in anger. “I don't want any stupid doll, I just forgot to mail it.”

His mother rolled her eyes and spoke condescendingly, “Oh, of course my big strong son doesn't like dolls. We were just having fun with you.” She picked up the doll and handed it to Aileen. “Anyway, I guess it's too late to send it to Tammy. You can have it Aileen.”

“Oh mother,” she replied, “I'm too old for dolls, but I really think Rocco likes this one so I won't throw it away. I'll keep her in my room, and if Rocco does want her he can just come ask for her. If not, we can give her to Tammy next year.”

Alexis nodded, “Well, that should make everyone happy!”

It didn't make Rocco happy at all. They didn't miss his covetous glare as Aileen put the doll back in her box and left the room. They both knew it was only a matter of time before he would make his move.

Rocco wasn't himself once he got back to school. That is to say, he wasn't completely ignoring his studies to go harass and torture his fellow students. He sat around all day thinking and plotting some way to get his doll without having to humiliate himself by telling his younger sister he actually wanted to play with it.

Every day he waited made the longing worse and worse. He couldn't concentrate on anything, his body felt weird like there was an itch he didn't know how to scratch, and he was irritable and lost his temper even more quickly than usual.

After a while the craving finally overwhelmed him. In the middle of the night he snuck into his sister's room with a small flashlight. The doll was nowhere to be found. He looked around frantically but he couldn't find it. He muttered curses under his breath. He had no idea why he even wanted the damn thing in the first place but now he was desperately searching in the dark for it.

Suddenly the light clicked on. Aileen was smiling in his direction from her bed. Wide awake. She held the box containing the doll in her arms.

“Are you looking for something, Rocco? Whatever could that be?” she asked in feigned ignorance.

He moaned in frustration and humiliation. The urge he felt was overwhelming. As much as his logical mind screamed no, the urge he felt worked outside of reason. It was becoming literally painful in his own head, and somehow he knew there was only one cure, no matter what the admission cost him.

“Rocco, do you have something to ask me?” his sister inquired.

The boy walked over to the side of her bed, head bowed. He began to speak, “Aile...”

She glanced over at the webcam on her computer, making sure the record light was on “Wait, why don't you kneel beside the bed. I'll be able to hear you better.”

The boy groaned at the additional indignity but obeyed, “Aileen, I really want that doll. I don't know why but I want it. Please can I have it?”

She laughed right in his face. “I don't get it, why do you want to play with dolls all of a sudden? What happened to my big brother the tough guy bully?”

He screamed at her in frustration, “JUST SHUT UP AND GIVE ME THE DOLL YOU EMBARRASSED ME ENOUGH.”

She giggled at her brother, kneeling before her and begging for a little girl's doll but still trying to act like a tough guy. She made the decision right then to send Lucinda a pleasant “Thank You” note.

“No, you can't have it. It's mine. I won't let a big tough guy like you humiliate himself like this. So you have some weird dolly obsession, big deal, get over it tough guy.”

She waved her hand at the door. “Go to bed.”

His face looked panic stricken, he was almost ready to cry. The girl fought hard to keep a straight face before continuing. “Unless of course...you aren't really a tough guy after all...maybe secretly you're a little sissy. If that is what you are, it would be cruel of me to keep you from a doll you really like. What kind of sister would I be? So, who are you?”

The boy mumbled something under his breath. “Now just give me the doll.”

“I didn't hear that first part.”

His blushing was priceless, the girl couldn't wait to watch this moment over and over again. He repeated his shameful admission, in a clear voice this time, “I'm a little sissy and I want my dolly, give it to me.”

Aileen smiled pleasantly and offered some mocking claps. “I'm so happy you're finally ending that charade. But Rocco is no name for a little sissy boy, that is a name for a man. We need to give you a new name, don't you think? At least for between the two of us here at home. I won't let your friends know about your secret.”

Aileen moved the box with the doll closer to his reach, he saw his goal was close and was willing to agree to just about anything.

She went on, “Don't you think that's a good idea...Adriana?”

Defeated, he submissively nodded at the suggestion. “Yes, call me whatever you want, just give me the doll now, please.”

She handed the box to him, he ran out of the room crying at his humiliation but immediately felt better as he freed his doll again from the box. He hugged the doll and smiled. He went to sleep with the doll in his arms. His mother and sister peeked in that morning, the doll was still in his arms and a huge smile was on his face even in his sleep. The symptoms of his urges, the itch he couldn't scratch and the irritation and the longing vanished the moment he held the doll in his arms. He would never be able to go more than a day or two without it from now on, and his humbling journey was just beginning.

Adriana was born.

Over the next few weeks with his urge temporarily satisfied he was able to get back to being himself a bit more. He went back to bullying and harassing the other students, who had hoped he was finally starting to grow out of it. Instead, he made up for lost time and was worse than ever. Rocco was over-compensating for his secret hobby. He sought out the weakest and most effeminate boys and tormented them, taking out his own rage at himself for spending his evenings cuddling with a doll meant for a little girl to satisfy his unexplainable needs.

A boy named Bill who he had bullied many times before got the worst of it. Bill was handsome and generally well liked but he was also shy and openly gay. He had brown hair and green eyes and always wore stylish clothes. Rocco went out of his way to hunt him down and punch him in the stomach at least once a day. It made him feel better about himself to know that playing with a doll didn't mean he still couldn't kick somebody’s ass.

This catharsis couldn't last. He started to need to play with the doll more and more frequently and for longer periods of time. At first he had merely slept with the doll in his arms and played with it before bed. A few weeks later, he had to spend time with Ruthie for at least a little bit as soon as he got home from school. Eventually, it got to the point where he could barely put it down to have dinner with his family.

He was used to daydreaming in class, usually about a girl or a plan to harass someone after school. Now he would just think about the doll. One time, he sat in particularly boring class and started to think about Ruthie. He wanted to brush or comb her beautiful brown hair. It was getting tangled and messy. How do you straighten doll hair? He would have to ask his mother, that would be fun. He sighed and stared out the window. Her dress was so pretty. Should he buy her a new one?

Thinking about her made the itch to play with her more pressing, while at the same time the indulgence of it helped him cope with the urges. It was a paradox. Thinking about her made the pain worse and better at the same time. School would be over soon.

He started to consider different types of dresses he could buy for her, she would look good in green or maybe...

“ROCCO!” a man's voice yelled.

He looked up. The teacher and the entire class were starring at him. His hands cupping his chin as he stared out the window with a goofy, wistful smile on his face.

“Uhh sorry...I was daydreaming.” he explained.

“A girl again?” the teacher replied.

“Uhh yeah.”

The entire class laughed. Rocco's face was bright red. It could be worse, they could know what he was really daydreaming about.

During the day every minute was a struggle. The clock moved with monumental slowness. His hands and feet would tingle, he would sweat, his stomach would cramp, and his head would ache. He couldn't focus on class, not that he cared to that much, and he certainly couldn't fight or bully. His victims noticed his obvious distraction but didn't particularly care, as long as he was leaving them alone it was a good development.

There was only one solution. He started to bring the doll to school with him, always hidden carefully in his bag. Just having it close lessened his symptoms but when necessary he would sneak a quick cuddle in a restroom stall to satiate his urges, but sometimes he would find himself unable to put the doll down. He would lose track of time like he was in a trance. He would hear the door to the restroom open and find himself combing the dolls hair and having to quickly return it to its hiding place before someone became suspicious.

His head was now clear during the school day as long as he took his “breaks” in the stall, but he could not go back to being a bully. He had to focus all his effort on protecting the secret in the bag. He couldn't put it down to fight, or one of his many enemies might think it would be a good idea to mess with him by running off with his stuff.

He tried to put up a facade and intimidate people without fighting, but it was clear he was acting much more cautious and reserved than he used to. He turned down opportunities to harass others he never would have before.

Like predators in the wild the other wannabe bullies started to notice his weakness, his former victims as well. They all wanted a chance for revenge. One day, on his way home from school the disaster he had been fearing finally struck. He had been walking home with Aileen lately. She did tease him a little bit about his new hobby but she had kept her word and not told anyone. He figured if he had to fight he could make her take his bag and leave him to it.

She wasn't with him that day. A group of other boys surrounded him on the street with a few girls on the edges of the group observing the fun.

“So Rocco, what have you been up to lately?” The circle around him drew in closer as the leader, Tony, spoke.

“You've been holding on to your bag pretty tight, so what are you hiding?” another asked.

Rocco growled, “It's none of your business. I've decided I've picked on you guys enough, you aren't worth the trouble.”

Tony laughed, “Oh really? Well let's just see how much trouble we can be.”

They charged him simultaneously. In a movie when this kind of thing happened they would stay in a circle and try and fight you one on one. He could have taken any of them that way, but no one can win five on one. He got in a few hits and did some damage, but he was quickly held down being kicked and punched.

Rocco began to cry publicly for the first time he could remember. Not because of the pain, as someone who liked to fight he had taken his fair share of beatings before, but because of what he knew was about to come next.

“Oh my God! THIS is what he was so protective over? I thought he was selling pot or something. It's a...doll?”

They all turned to look down at their now pathetic, crying victim. Rocco desperately tried to find a lie to tell but in his panic messed it all up, “It's Aileen's okay, I was just holding it for her.”

One of the girls, Tabitha, spoke up and shook her head, “She doesn't play with dolls, Rocco, I've known her a long time.”

Rocco was in a panic. If he had thought up a better lie he could have found a way out of this, but now he was sunk. They all knew. Their laughter rang in his ears as he cried.

One of the other girls spoke, “Rocco plays with dolls!? No wonder he acted so tough, he was hiding his soft side all this time!”

Another one, “This must be why he spends all his time at home now, he probably has a bunch of them and has little tea parties! I bet he even sleeps with her! Certainly haven't seen him with any other girlfriends...”

Rocco continued to sob. Some of the boys wandered off, the victims who were just there for revenge. They didn't actually like to hurt someone so clearly helpless, they didn't enjoy the suffering. Rocco would certainly never mess with them again and that was enough.

The bullies remained and taunted him for a while but eventually got bored with Rocco's lack of resistance in his current state. Rocco got to his feet. Tony still had the doll. Rocco stared at it, but couldn't bring himself to ask for it back. Tony knew what he was thinking.

“Jesus, Rocco, what happened to you?” Tony shook his head in derision. He turned to Tabitha. “Do you want it?”

Tabitha smiled and nodded. “My little sister has the one that goes with it, she's wanted this one forever. She's gonna love it! Thanks Tony!”

More tears welled up in Rocco's eyes, he grabbed his bag and ran off home. When he stormed in bruised and battered and with tears in his eyes Aileen rushed to him and tried to calm him down and get him to explain what happened. He was frantic, the symptoms of his need for the doll were returning and he knew he had no way to make them go away. The itch in his head he couldn't scratch, the pins and needles in his extremities, everything combined to overwhelm him. Aileen knew the situation was bad, she hugged her brother tightly and tried to calm him down. She spoke to him firmly.

“Adriana,” he was too panicked to even notice the use of his secret name, “I know how you feel about that doll and what you must be going through right now. Your sister IS going to fix this for you. I promise! I will handle it RIGHT NOW with no delay. Go to your room and do your best to try and relax, I'm going to go see Tabitha, okay?”

He nodded and held her tightly in the hug, “Thank You, Aileen! Thank you!”

She smiled wryly, “Okay, you have to let me go or I can't do it!”

He quickly released her from the hug. She left and he went to his room and tried to relax like she said. It was torture. He slammed shut his eyes and curled up on the bed. He shut out everything, refused to acknowledge the pain of his loss, and tried to sleep.

Hours later he woke up to a soft hand gently stroking his hair. Aileen handed him his doll. He hugged it and whimpered softly. “Thank you, Aileen. You're so good to me, even after I used to be so mean to you. I'm so sorry, I don't know how exactly or why...but I'm different now. You know that right?”

Aileen smiled, “Yeah, I know. I do have to tell you something though...”

Rocco sat up, it didn't sound good.

He listened intently as she spoke, “When I got over to Tabitha's house she had already given the doll to her little sister, Julia. She's a huge fan of American Girl dolls, Kit Kittredge is her favorite and...”

Rocco groaned, having gained an expert knowledge of the line of dolls while trying to diagnose how his obsession started, “...and Ruthie is Kit's best friend! Julia must have been so upset!”

Aileen nodded. “It's sweet that you care, you really have changed. I'm sorry, but I couldn't just take the doll back. She made me promise a trade. In exchange for giving it back...you have to go over and have a playdate with Julia every week next month.”

Rocco looked at his sister in shock, “I...what? Me playing with a little girl? Won't her parents be a bit...majorly freaked out by that idea? Why would she even WANT to play with me?”

Aileen shrugged, “Well, I think she's just a bit curious. She's never heard of a teenage boy who likes dolls. But really I just think she figures that since you have the Ruthie and she has the Kit you are just meant to be best friends. Isn't that sweet? Anyway, Tabitha was supposed to babysit her those nights and you'll be taking over instead, we wouldn't tell her parents you were just there to play dolls. You're even gonna be paid. So...Ruthie is back...you have an easy new job where all you have to do is play with dolls which you do for fun anyway...your sister did good, didn't she?”

Rocco thought about it for a while and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I don't see how it could have turned out better, given the circumstances.”

They hugged again and Aileen left him alone with his doll. She sat in her room by her computer for a long time. She thought about how Rocco was beginning to change. It was clearly for the better, he had clearly learned a lesson. She knew they had done the right thing and they had to keep going, but she stared at the file on her computer, the video of his tearful and humiliating confession. What would be the fun in sharing something like that like she planned? The old Rocco deserved the humiliation, but Adriana would be a genuinely sweet sissy boy. A good friend and sister. The line between sweet Adriana and cruel Rocco was much more thin than she had thought it would be. She couldn't do this to Adriana, he would have enough humiliation as a necessary part of the changes. Tomorrow at school would certainly be humbling for him.

She deleted the file.

Aileen carried the doll to school for him the next day and from then on. They arranged times to meet where she could pass it off to him so he could satisfy his compulsion. This freed him up to fight to protect himself, but Aileen promised she would stop if he ever started to bully again. People made fun of him for having the doll, but the first person who was bold enough to try and get in his face about it was quickly put in their place. He helped the other boy up and apologized for hurting him in the past. They shook hands and went their separate ways.

The violence didn't feel good to Rocco anymore, all he could see was himself on the ground being kicked and humiliated and wanting his doll back, but he knew he had to send a message. Even so he felt bad doing it. Whatever spark he had been born with that made him enjoy dominating and humiliating an unwilling victim was gone now.

Later that week, his mother Alexis told him she had arranged to take him to a therapist to try and figure out what had happened to him. He thought this was a great idea. He had a lot he needed to talk about. He looked forward to what he thought was his first session, but was really his second.

Alexis and Aileen came with him to support him. The therapist was a very good looking blonde who dressed and acted much more casually than he expected. She told him to call her Lucinda, not even “Dr. Lucinda.”

He was led in to a typical looking therapists office while Lucinda and his mother and sister talked in the waiting room. They said there was some billing issues to discuss.

Aileen spoke up first, “It's all gone perfectly Lucinda, just as you said, Ruthie and Adriana are the best of friends and his attitude has already been adjusted for the better. I almost feel like we could stop here already...”

Alexis broke in, “Oh no, you little softy, he hasn't paid for what he's done yet and any changes could only be temporary, isn't that right?”

Lucinda nodded, “I'm glad he's progressing well, but he's in a bit of a state of shock right now. If the changes I've implanted aren't reinforced his old self could bubble back up over time. No, we have to move on. And today's session is my favorite part! A boy playing with dolls is weird, but it happens, some boys just have good imaginations and they aren't really all that different from their little action figures anyway. No, the next step is what will truly mark him as a sissy. It marks him more completely than anything else could, but he will still be able to try and keep the secret for a little while at least. Today he learns to be a panty addict!”

Lucinda and Alexis smiled brightly, Aileen half-halfheartedly.

Lucinda stared at her intently, “You aren't having more second thoughts, are you?”

Aileen shrugged, “I just wish there was an easier way. I don't like seeing him hurt, but I know he will be more happy for it in the end.”

Lucinda nodded, “You can be as nice to him as you want, but you understand he can never know what we are doing to him. I used to tell the subjects, but I've learned that if the subject knows what has happened to them and finds the changes too traumatic the process of mental conditioning may become unstable and in one case in the past that has led to...well...a sub-optimum mental health outcome.” she warned vaguely, “Am I clear?”

Aileen nodded. Lucinda smiled and returned to her office to begin the next session.

Session Two: The Panties

Rocco rushed home from school as usual. Even with all the Ruthie breaks he managed to sneak at school it was never enough. A few minutes of cuddling with her would make him feel satisfied for a little while but as the day wore on it just wasn't enough.

Every day after school he would sit in his room and play with Ruthie for about an hour before he could tear himself away to do anything else. His mother was becoming quite annoyed with this little ritual.

“Rocco!” she screamed, “Go outside and cut the grass!”

Rocco groaned, he hadn't had enough time yet. He looked over at the clock. It had been an hour and a half since he'd been home. His obsession was getting worse. He finished braiding Ruthie's hair and admired her new green dress for a few moments. He smiled in pride, the completion of the task rewarding him with a burst of happiness. He went downstairs and Alexis rolled her eyes at her teenage son with his doll still lovingly embraced.

“I can't Mom. I need a few more minutes. I had a really bad day.”

Alexis sneered at him, “So what? You can play with your doll later, or, you know, you could play with that PS3 you never even set up. Do you know how expensive that was?”

Aileen entered the kitchen, “I'll do the grass Mom, it's no big deal, he did have a rough one.”

She went outside and mother and son heard the mower start. Alexis turned to him, “Well, if she's going to do your chores you're going to do hers. Go do the laundry, you can take your little friend with you.”

Rocco went to the laundry room. There was a load of his laundry that had to go in and some of his mother and sister's that needed to be folded and put away. He loaded his things into the washer and set to work folding, taking frequent breaks to hug Ruthie.

He noticed something very odd begin to happen, any time he touched a pair of panties a thrill went through him and he started to develop butterflies in his stomach. There was pair after pair in the laundry, as if they had thrown in all of their panties to be cleaned at once.

He stopped to stare at each pair. White cotton with a multicolored floral pattern. Pink satin. A blue thong. Yellow, purple, black. As he folded he started to become more and more uncomfortable with his own underwear. So rough, so boring. He started to itch. He started to sweat. He felt a bit dizzy and out of breath. Frantically he turned to Ruthie and picked her up and hugged her, the feeling subsided a little bit. He picked up a pair of panties and studied them, the uncomfortable feeling subsided even more.

He heard a growling behind him, his mother. His heart stopped. What must he look like? A boy clutching at a doll and fondling a pair of panties.

“I know THAT look, it's the same one you had when you first saw that stupid toy. You really are turning in to a fag. You aren't going to steal my panties you little pervert. Put them down, right now.”

He felt like crying at her harsh words and angry tone but did as he was told.

“I DON'T want to wear panties Mom. I was just checking them to make sure they were clean.”

She frowned at him, “I know what I saw and I know what you're turning in to. I'm going to the store to get you your own panties, you can't wear mine.”

“Mom, no, don't do that...”

“Shut up, Adriana.”

He flinched at the name. He didn't realize Aileen had told her. She had kept her promise not to tell anyone at school, but their mother was another matter.

She continued, “We'll just do what we did with the doll. If you want the panties you can come ask for them, but DON'T wear mine or your sister's or you will be in big trouble. Do you want a bra too?”

Rocco shouted back at her, the indignity getting to him, “I DON'T WANT TO WEAR GIRL'S UNDERWEAR!”

“We'll see. But if you're lying to me again you are going to be punished. Now finish the laundry!”

She stormed off angrily. Rocco cried softly as he finished the chore. She was right, she had to be, there was no other explanation for his reaction. He wanted to wear the panties, he was turning in to a sissy. Why did she have to be so mean about it? It wasn't his fault, he didn't want this to happen. He couldn't help it.

He had to be sure though, he couldn't stand to humiliate himself and beg for the panties if he wasn't sure. He snuck a pair of his sister's panties into his pocket.

He finished folding the clothes and went to carry the laundry upstairs. He saw Aileen in the kitchen. She was sweating from working outside and drinking a glass of ice water. She saw that he had been crying and she looked at him with concern.

“Are you okay, nothing happened to Ruthie again, did it?”

He shook his head and showed her the doll, happy and undamaged on top of the laundry in the basket.

She smiled at him. “I like her hair and the new dress. Where did you get it...and how did you learn to braid doll hair?”

He mumbled that he had found everything online and and went upstairs. In truth he hardly remembered ordering it or looking up how to braid. He had done it in the school library in a daze. He had just intended to stop studying for a second to look something up for Ruthie but twenty minutes had past when a group of girls had seen what he was up to and laughed at him. He considered lying and saying he was helping his cousin Tammy or something, but everyone knew already. Talk about his strange new hobby had spread like wildfire.

When he was done putting the laundry away he went to his room. He retrieved the panties from his pocket and unfolded them. They were light purple cotton with yellow flowers. His chest became tight, he felt nervous and shaky like he had too much coffee, the butterflies in his stomach got worse.

He took off his clothes. He stared at himself in the mirror. His shaking was visible, his once confident and self assured face was now blushing bright red with shame and his eyes were wide with fear. Nothing about his physical appearance had really changed, but it was obvious he was becoming an entirely different person inside. His strange urges and new humbling experiences had made sure of that.

He looked down in resignation and stepped in to the panties. As he pulled them up his legs he knew his Mother had been right, it was just like the doll. His panicked nervousness subsided, first in his feet and then in his legs as he slowly pulled on his sister's panties inch by inch. When he was done he let out a moan of pleasure. The intoxicating feelings coursed through his entire body, he started to feel at once heavy and light and fell backwards on to his bed. He found Ruthie there beside him and he clutched her to his chest. The combination of his two vices cleared his head somehow and he became hyper aware of all the feelings overcoming him.

The pleasure of hugging Ruthie which had become a bit mundane and more of a habitual comfort instead of an active thrill took on new dimensions. The new feelings the panties gave him made him feel invincible and happy and amazed that such a euphoria was even possible. Even though it had been a long, hard day he felt invigorated and giddy and ready to do anything.

He stood up and looked in the mirror again, the change was amazing. He had a look of pure bliss on his face. He spun around and admired the panties.

Suddenly he heard steps outside his room, he froze and snapped back into reality. There was a loud banging on the door.

Alexis shouted from outside, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?! Your sister says she's missing a pair of panties. YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU ARE!”

The door began to open. In his initial nervous panic and later trance of pleasure he had entirely forgotten to lock it.

His mother's face was full of rage, she screamed at him, “I JUST told you not to do this you little pervert. You lied right to my face. I told you I would play your sick little game and get you your own panties! You couldn't even just wait!?”

Aileen appeared in the doorway, she covered her mouth to hold back laughter. She didn't want to hurt his feelings but he just looked so silly in her underwear. Alexis was furious. She ran over to Rocco and started slapping him. He grabbed her arms and held her.

Tearfully he apologized, “I'm sorry, Mom. I can't help it, I really can't...”

She tore her arms from his grip, “It's not just me you have to apologize to.”

Alexis pointed to Aileen who was still standing in the doorway trying to contain her mirth.

Rocco was shaking in humiliation as he walked over to his sister, hyper-conscious of the humiliating panties he wore and how good they made him feel, “I'm s...”

Alexis interrupted in a no-nonsense tone, “I think it would be more convincing on your knees.”

Rocco kneeled for his sister, for the second time. “I'm sorry, Aileen.”

His sister patted his head. “Oh Ade, That's allr...”

“Sorry for what?” Alexis put in.

Aileen glared at her. “Enough, Mother.”

“Maybe YOU don't mind some pervert stealing your underwear but I certainly would. Apologize correctly, Adriana.”

He flinched and considered the name. Maybe Adriana really was a better name for who he was now. He liked girl's underwear and playing with dolls. He was even such a distracted bimbo that he couldn't do it without getting caught.

“I'm sorry I stole your panties, Aileen. I won't do it again.” He turned to his mother. “I won't.”

Aileen quickly jumped in before Alexis had a chance, “That's okay, Adriana. I know you're just ashamed of who you really are and didn't want to have to ask us for them. You're going to have to get used to it though if you really want to be a sissy so bad you can't control it anymore. It's not right to take someone's private things.”

Rocco nodded and bowed his head in shame.

Alexis wasn't satisfied, “Not good enough. Come over here, NOW.”

Rocco moved to get up and Alexis stopped him, “Stay on your knees.”

Rocco awkwardly made his way over to his mother and bowed his head. She took his chin in her hand and directed his eyes up to look in her enraged face.

“How do I usually punish you?”

He replied hesitantly, “You...you ground me and take away my video games. That's okay. I deserve it, I know.”

She shook her head and tut-tutted at him. “But it clearly doesn't work. It's something new with you all the time. It was probably my fault for trying to punish you like a boy when you were really such a sissy all along. I should have known what all that acting out meant. No, from now on you will be punished like the sissy you are. Do you know how a sissy is punished?”

He shook his head.

“That's okay, Adriana. You'll learn soon. You can get up now. Go stand in front of the mirror and put your hands on your head. Aileen, go into my room. There's a package in my closet, bring it for us. ”

The two siblings looked at their mother quizzically but obeyed. She left the room and he was left looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes darted away and he could see Ruthie over on the bed. He wanted to hug her so he would feel better but he was afraid of making Alexis angrier. The panties made him feel good too, but he still wanted his doll.

She followed his gaze, “Don't even think about it, Adriana. Bad sissies don't get to play with their dollies.”

He turned back to the mirror and observed his blushing face. His mind was in turmoil, he was humiliated and angry with himself and worried about what would come next. No so long ago he was a confident young man. Now he was wearing his sister's panties and obediently waiting for punishment from his mother.

Aileen returned and handed the package to Alexis. It was a box wrapped in pink paper with a white bow, just like the paper Ruthie had come in.

Alexis walked over to her son and held the box out to him. “Here, you can open it. It's for you after all.”

In trepidation he opened the box and discarded the pink paper. Inside was a large wooden paddle with the words, “Adriana's Little Reminder” written on it. He looked over at his mother with his mouth hanging open.

She smiled at him and took the paddle. “Hands back on your head. Eyes forward. After every paddle, you will recite the phrase, 'I will not wear my sister's panties. That is a naughty, disgusting thing for a sissy like me to do.'”

He shook his head at her. “No, Mom, come on. I know I've got...issues...but this isn't the way...”

Aileen joined his protest, “He said he was sorry, it's my panties he's wearing and I forgive him for it. In fact, you can keep them Adriana, they're yours.”

Rocco just shook his head in anger and confusion and humiliation. Suddenly Alexis swung her arm as hard as she could and there was a massive crack. Rocco jumped and screamed, more in shock than in pain as the paddle hit his pantied bottom.

Alexis growled at him, “Thank your sister for giving you her panties, Adriana.”

Aileen shouted at her, “Stop it, I told you I don't want this!” Aileen left the room and slammed the door behind her. Alexis wound up and gave him another hard slap with the paddle. He grunted and said nothing.

She growled at him, “Say it.”, and slapped him again.

Again he was silent.

She shrugged. “Oh, the big tough boy is back?” She looked at him and he continued to say nothing for himself.

“Good, in that case...” She put down the paddle and picked up Ruthie. “You won't be needing this anymore. I'll just take it downstairs and have Aileen put some wood in the fireplace...”

His face drained of all color and in terror and he screamed, “NO! DON'T BURN HER!” and lunged for Alexis, but stopped half way. He could easily take the doll back if he wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to fight with his own mother that way. Not anymore. It wasn't who Adriana was, the idea of it made him sick. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned to start downstairs.

“I'll say it.” he told her meekly.

She sighed at him. “I was hoping maybe you were finally finding your balls again. Oh well, hands back on your head you little pussy.”

He obeyed.

*SLAP*

“I won't wear my sister's panties.” he whispered.

Two slaps in quick succession.

“Louder! And why not!?”

Another slap.

He replied in a clear voice strained a bit by the pain, “'I will not wear my sister's panties. That is a naughty, disgusting thing for a sissy like me to do.”

“Good, you're getting the hang of it.”

*SLAP*

“'I will not wear my sister's panties. That is a naughty, disgusting thing for a sissy like me to do.”

She repeated the process another ten times.

He was crying now, not so much from the pain, he could handle that. It was the degradation of being spanked like a naughty child. He looked in the mirror and saw himself in his sister's underwear crying like a baby and it made his emotional breakdown more intense.

Through his tears he told her for the final time, “I won't wear Aileen's panties,” He coughed and stuttered through his tears, “it's a naughty thing...for a sissy like me.”

She nodded at him. “And it's disgusting as well. Go stand in the corner until told otherwise. I hope I don't have to remind you of this again. It truly pains me to see you reduced to such a state. I wanted a real son not a faggy sissy or a stupid thug. You're a disappointment no matter what you do.”

“Yes, Mother.” he told her and went to the corner.

“And keep your hands up, no rubbing that sore bottom. Just stay there and think about what you've done.”

He stayed there for about a half hour, softly crying in humiliation. Eventually Aileen came to end his punishment.

“Mom says it's okay to leave the corner now.”

She guided him over to the bed as he rubbed his sore bottom with arms aching from being held on his head. She handed Ruthie to him and he hugged her to his chest and sobbed. He put his head on Aileen's shoulder as he cried. She put her arm around him and comforted him.

“It's okay Adriana. It's over now.” she told him soothingly.

He kept sobbing. The humiliation of it was too much to bear. “It's not okay. I don't know who I am anymore. Everything is so confusing. I don't want to wear panties or play with dolls but it just feels so good. I can't do it without looking like a freak, everyone knows what I'm turning in to. They say I'm a fag now, and I'm not.”

“Adriana, listen to me. When Rocco was trying to bully someone and really get to them, what was the best thing they could do to get him to stop?”

He tried to bring himself to be able to think like a bully again. It was hard for him to do when he was crying his eyes out on his sister's shoulder because his mother had punished him for stealing panties, which he was still wearing.

“I guess...not to let me know I was getting to them.” he offered.

She nodded at him and smiled. His crying eased a bit to sniffles.

She added, “That goes for Mom too. You did very terrible things to her...and to me...we could have had you arrested...so now that you're going through a period of vulnerability she's getting her revenge. You can't blame her, can you?”

He shook his head to indicate he couldn't. She held his hand and looked him in the eyes, “The best way to get everyone to stop being mean about Ruthie and anything else that happens is to show everyone how much you've changed. That means instead of being a bully you should look out for other vulnerable people. That could mean standing up to bullies or just giving the kids they pick on a kind word.”

His sniffles continued still, “But they're right, I'm turning in to a freak, I stole my own sister's...”

She held his hand tighter and silenced him, “Don't go from bullying everyone else to bullying yourself. There's nothing wrong with you, all these feelings you've obviously been repressing so long are just too much for you to handle now. I know you weren't thinking straight. That doesn't mean people shouldn't treat you with respect. No matter what happens, I'll always look out for you Ade.”

He smiled. “Thanks sis.”

She smiled back, “And hey, if you still feel bad about taking them, why don't we make a trade?”

She pointed to the PS3 still boxed in his closet.

He nodded at her in shock, he barely remembered receiving it at Christmas. He had wanted it so much, but now it held no interest for him. She picked up the box and carried it away to her room before returning to his side. While she was gone he sat in numbed shock at the bargain he had just made, unthinkable not so long ago.

“Thanks Ade, you can play with it whenever you want. And I'm sorry I told Mom about the missing panties. I thought they were just lost. If I had known you had them I would have kept it secret.”

“That's okay.” he replied in meek forgiveness.

They both heard Alexis approaching the room. Aileen put her arm around him again, he had gone stiff with fear of his mother. As much as she empathized with him, she felt a hint of schadenfreude at that. There had been times when Alexis had gone stiff at the approach of Rocco.

Alexis opened the door, she crossed her arms and considered her son for several moments and then spoke in a business like manner, “Get dressed, we're going shopping for your new underwear. I obviously can't trust you out of my supervision. You'll be in my bra before I'm a block away.”

He started to shake. He had been right to be afraid. He considered his options. He had none. If he didn't obey her she would threaten Ruthie again and paddle him more and he suspected he would not be able to resist wanting more panties eventually just like he couldn't resist wanting to keep his doll.

He formed an image of what was in store for him in his mind. “Please Mom, I'll be good. Could you go shopping for me and leave me...”

She interjected simply “No. You can't be trusted. Get dressed.” Alexis left the room.

Aileen hugged him again for support. “I'll come too, I won't let her humiliate you too much.”

He walked two paces behind them. The lingerie store was in front of them. His chest pounded in fear. He would stop and they would turn around and urge him forward. It felt like a nightmare. Every step took an eternity and he wasn't sure if they were getting closer or not. He begged himself to wake up, but it wasn't a dream. He was wearing his sister's stolen panties under his clothes and his mother and sister were taking him shopping for more girl's underthings. He was about to be publicly exposed in front of a number of strangers as the freak he was becoming.

They pulled him inside the store. They were greeted by a saleslady. She addressed Alexis and Aileen and glossed over the presence of the boy. “Hi, I'm Carol. Can I help you find something?”

Alexis smiled at her, “Actually no, we're here for him.” she pointed.

Carol's face became screwed up and she erupted in laughter. She turned around and loudly shouted to her fellow employees and the rest of the customers, “Look girls! This sissy boy is here to get some lingerie!”

His worst nightmares were realized. Everyone was looking at him. He felt like he could sink through the floor in humiliation.

Suddenly Aileen walked straight up to Carol and angrily started berating her, “Hey, this is a customer! What would possibly make you think it would be a good idea for you do something like that to try and humiliate him? Do you want to drive away business? I bet your manager would be happy to know you treat your customers like shit! What kind of place is this?! I'm going to tell my friends never to shop here ever again...”

Carol's face was stuck in a look of complete shock, she stuttered out her reply, “I'm...sor...sorr...”

But Aileen wouldn't let her finish, she grabbed her brother and turned right around and angrily yelled back over her shoulder, “We're leaving! We can find another store to go to from now on where all customers are treated with respect even if they're different.”

Carol chased after her fleeing customers and grabbed the boy's arm, “Hey...listen. I'm sorry. It was just a bit of a surprise. I'm sorry. Come back in and I'll kick everyone out. We're closing soon anyway, that way no one else will laugh at you. That was really insensitive of me. There's nothing wrong with a boy like you wearing lingerie if that's what you want.”

He was very angry with her. It was already a bad enough experience without some crazed saleswoman drawing attention to him but in all likelihood anywhere else they went he would face the same type of reaction, or worse, and at least she had promised to help him in private.

Carol hurried everyone out of the store. Each woman took a good look at him on the way out. He could hear restrained giggling and snide comments about what a fag he must be. He felt helpless and exposed with his secret out to so many people already.

With the store emptied Carol turned her attention fully to her customer, “So, I didn't catch your name.”

Alexis quickly interjected, “I'm Alexis and this is his sister Aileen. His name is Rocco, but people who know who he really is call him Adriana.”

Carol smiled at him, “Adriana, that's a very pretty name!

Alexis elbowed him. “Thank you, Carol.” he whispered.

Carol led him around the store to look at everything they had in stock. She measured him to make sure she had things in the right size to show him. As he looked around he realized he was drawn like a magnet to the most feminine items. Pink, purple, and pastels. The frillier and silkier the better. He could not consciously explain why they attracted him, but it was clear that they were what he wanted.

She let him try on some of the panties over his underwear. His favorite was a pink nylon bikini cut panty. He smiled in a drug-like daze as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Carol interrupted his trance cheerfully, “There's a matching bra, would you like to try that too?”

He did. He almost cried when he had it on, with a little help and instruction from his sister. He looked ridiculous, but he felt so good. He couldn't tell if he was getting emotional from the humiliation or the happiness, but Carol decided it meant she had done a good job. As he stood and looked in the mirror he felt overwhelmed by the pleasure. The perfumed smell of the store and the visual feast of all the feminine garments surrounding him made his skin feel warm and his heart turn to mush. He wanted to try on everything, but there wasn't time.

In the end they picked out six panties in various colors and styles and six bras to go with them. They picked out another bra to match the panties he had stolen from Aileen and then traded his game console for. Everything was folded up very nicely and placed in a pink bag which was handed to Rocco. Alexis paid for the purchases.

“How nice of you to get these things for him, not all mothers would be so understanding of such a special boy.” Carol told her as she was ringing up the purchase.

Alexis replied, “It's a loan, he's going to be working soon and he's going to pay me back.”

This was news to Rocco. He didn't want to waste his earnings on stupid girly underwear, he had wanted to...

…He realized he had wanted to buy more things for Ruthie. It looked like all his money would go towards his new hobbies from now on one way or another.

Carol turned to him, “Oh, and what will you be doing?”

He sighed. “Babysitting.”

She beamed back at him, “Oh, that's just so perfect for a boy like you!”

She waved at them as they left the store, “I'm sorry I was so mean before Adriana. Come back anytime, I won't do it again! Not to you or any other boys who come here!”

He was relieved to be out of there, but during the car ride he started to feel anxious and irritated. He just wanted to snuggle with Ruthie and go to sleep. He would have nothing but pleasant dreams and escape the humiliating new life he had made for himself. He had good dreams every night since he had first started to sleep with her in his arms. It was his only respite.

“Adriana,” Alexis lectured from the front seat, “I'm willing to humor you from now on but you had better behave. Don't make me have to remind you. I'm still very concerned about your turn in to a little panty boy though so I've arranged for you to start seeing a therapist.”

He nodded, that sounded like a good idea to him.

Alexis and Aileen came with him to support him. He was wearing a yellow bra and panty set and hoping it couldn't be seen through his clothes. He carried Ruthie with him. He was so nervous about therapy he needed her to help calm himself down.

No one at school had found out about his new underwear yet as far as he could tell. It was a chore to go to the bathroom and hide his secret and in every class he felt like the person behind him could see right through his shirt. If anyone knew they had kept silent about it.

He was slowly starting to become much less of a hated figure around the school. He had been defanged as a bully once Ruthie was common knowledge, but now he was starting to be known as a stand up guy. He took Aileen's advice and started to protect the other kids from the remaining bullies. He had repeatedly stood up to Tony, the boy who had led the attack on him and revealed Ruthie. Even if Rocco did wear panties now, he was still as strong as before and Tony was no match for him one on one.

Earlier that day he had seen Tony cornering Bill in the hallway. Bill was an easy target, he was small and kind of wimpy and everyone knew he was gay.

“Leave him alone, Tony.” he told him in an authoritative voice.

“Or what? You want me to beat you up and steal your dolly again?” he replied with much bravado but little confidence.

“You know you won't be able to get a group to jump me again. They hate you now instead. It's lonely being a bully. I figure the only thing more embarrassing than being a guy who plays with dolls is getting beat up by a boy who plays with dolls, don't you think?”

Tony slinked away.

Bill looked at him. “Hey, thanks for that.”

Bill had a twinkle in his eye and smiled at him.

Rocco felt a lump in his throat, “Hey, it's uhh, it's not like that, okay?”

Bill looked disappointed but he said “Thank you” again and walked off. That was the incident on Rocco's mind today that he wanted to talk about with his new doctor. It was all well and good if everyone accepted him for who he was now, but he was still interested in girls. How could someone like him find a girlfriend?

The therapist was a very good looking blonde who dressed and acted much more casually than he expected. She told him to call her Lucinda, not even “Dr. Lucinda.” The doctor and Alexis went in to the office and left the siblings outside in the waiting room while they talked over some billing issues.

While Rocco waited he considered the strange site he had seen when they first came in. A mother pulled a blonde haired little boy from the office. The boy locked eyes with him. “Don't go in there.” he whispered before his mother quieted him and dragged him out of the waiting room. Rocco wondered what the boy's therapy was for, he must not be liking it.

Some time passed. Aileen looked over at her brother. He reached over his shoulder and shifted a bit trying to adjust the bra straps he still wasn't quite used to.

“It's fit perfectly Ade, you'll get used to it, Carol did a really good job even if she was a bitch at first.”

He looked over at her in annoyance, “It's fit for a girl.”

She shrugged back at him and looked down at the doll in his lap. “Why'd you take the braids out?”

He smiled involuntarily as he often did whenever he talked about the doll, “I thought it might be fun to show Julia how to do it. My first day is next week. It's hard to come up with fun things to do with dolls for that long.”

Aileen nodded back at him, “Don't worry, you'll be a natural.”

Inside the office the two women finished their discussion, by the end of this session Adriana's next stage would be ready to begin. When it was complete Adriana would find makeup, purses, shoes, and a feminine hairstyle to be things she could simply not do without.

Session Three: The Makeover

Rocco rang the doorbell and waited for a response. He fidgeted as he waited, becoming aware of the purple bra and panty set under his clothes. He felt the tug of the bookbag on his shoulder, Ruthie nestled within.

Julia's older sister Tabitha opened the door. She smiled and invited him in.

“Thanks a lot for doing this Rocco, I love my sister but I hate babysitting. I have a social life, you know?”

Rocco shrugged, he was stuck there no matter what so he might as well pretend he wanted to be, “No problem Tabitha. Glad to help.”

She smiled at him and suddenly gave him a quick hug. “I'm sorry I was so mean before when I took your doll for Julia. I didn't realize how much you were changing. I'm glad Aileen convinced me it would all work out. You're a good guy. I heard about what you've been doing at school, Bill told me you're his hero now, I think he has a crush on y...”

Rocco didn't want to hear more about Bill so he interrupted quickly, “So where's Julia? I'd really like to meet her.”

Tabitha smiled, “Oh sure, come with me.”

She led him to the living room where a little girl with black hair in pigtails was sitting on the couch watching television.

“Julia, your babysitter is here. Remember to behave for him, he's never babysat before so go easy on him. I'm going out now, have fun you two!”

As she was on her way out she shouted back through the door, “But remember Julia needs to get her homework done too, don't leave it for too late!”

She waved goodbye and left. Rocco was left alone with his charge for the first time.

She smiled at him and patted the cushion next to her on the couch. “Come sit down.”

He sat next to her, “Hi, I'm Roc...”

“Shh!” she scolded him, her show was coming back from commercial.

It was apparently a new “My Little Pony” show that focused on a group of ponies who were good friends with each other. Rocco rolled his eyes at first but by the end was actually enjoying it. Despite the extremely sugary sweet animation and voice acting it wasn't as bad as most shows marketed to little girls, it was more like a traditional cartoon like “Looney Tunes” or something with a serious slapstick mentality that was legitimately funny and amusing. Every episode apparently taught a lesson about friendship too.

Julia and Rocco hadn't introduced themselves to each other yet, but over the next few minutes they shared a few genuine laughs and had a good time. When the show was over Julia turned and observed her new babysitter.

“Hi, I'm Julia.”

“I'm Rocco.” he replied gently.

“I know your sister.” she told him.

He nodded, not sure what it mattered.

“She told me you have another name you only share with your good friends or family...”

He started to blush.

She continued with suspicious wide eyed innocence, “Am I your friend?”

He looked away for a moment and then turned back towards her, “Well, I just met you. I think I like you just fine. But I don't share that other name because if people who aren't my friends found out it could hurt me a lot. Do you understand?”

She nodded, but he didn't think she really understood.

He continued, “Do you have any friends that are tomboys?”

She nodded at him and smiled, “Oh yeah, my friend Beth plays football and...”

He stopped her, “Do you know any boys like that?”

She shook her head in confusion, “Like...”

He interrupted again, “It's not the same for boys. People make fun of boys who act like girls. That's how your sister ended up with Ruthie. A bunch of boys beat me up and made fun of me and took her. It was terrible.”

He reached in to his bag and revealed the doll. Julia smiled in recognition.

“You can call me Adriana if you want, but it's our secret, okay?”

“Wow, that's such a pretty name.”

He crossed his arms and looked at her.

She nodded, “I won't tell. Friends have to trust each other.”

He smiled. “My friend Ruthie says her friend Kit is around here too, do you know where she is?”

She smiled back, “Come with me!”

She led him up to her room. It was a typical little girl's room. Well, mostly typical. It was extremely messy but otherwise normal. There were a bunch of “American Girl” books in a bookshelf and several DVDs as well. There were countless My Little Pony toys spread out all over the floor.

Rocco sat on the bed with Ruthie in his arms while Julia looked around for her doll. She overturned piles of clothes and looked under her bed.

“Oh, Mommy should really keep my room more neat for me. Where is Kit?” she asked in frustration.

She searched around randomly for a few more minutes but came up empty handed. Rocco shook his head, “Ruthie and I were promised two friends to play with. Only one thing to do. Clean up your room, Julia, we'll find her somewhere along the way.”

Julia groaned, “My Mommy does that for m...”

“Well she shouldn't. It's your room and you should handle it.” he insisted.

Rocco didn't know where all this was coming from, it just sounded right. He was trying to think like a parent, he had no real experience with kids. He had just hoped to play with dolls all night but now the doll was missing and homework had to be done. Things were getting complex.

He helped her clean her room. They picked up some trash, put her clothes in the hamper, and together they made her bed. Julia was happy to learn how to take care of her room, no one had ever shown her before and it actually made her feel a bit grown up to be learning how to take care of herself.

At one point when he was bent over going through her closet looking for Kit he heard Julia's laughter from behind him. He knew immediately what she was laughing at and his face turned bright red. He pulled his shirt down and held it.

She giggled as she spoke, “You wear...girl's underwear too? None of the tomboys I know wear boy's underwear.”

There was no use denying anything at this point. “Uhh yeah, I know it's weird, but it's just more comfortable for me. It makes me feel good.”

She shrugged and forgot about it as they kept cleaning, she just found him amusing, not weird or disgusting. The room was spotless and there was still no Kit to be found. He carried her hamper downstairs to the laundry room as Julia followed along. He stood her on a step stool and taught her how to run the laundry for herself. She smiled at him as he showed her what do do. They had done nothing but work for the past hour but she seemed to be having a grand time. No one had ever treated her as an adult like Rocco was doing. After the laundry was started they returned to the family room.

Suddenly Julia's face brightened, “Oh, I remember now!”

She reached under the couch and pulled out a doll. It was Kit Kittredge all right, but her hair was messed up. It was extremely tangled and shooting off in every direction. Her dress was torn, and she was missing a shoe. Rocco looked down at the doll he held in his arms. Ruthie was in perfect condition like she had just came out of her box minutes before. His compulsion made sure he was meticulous in maintaining her and she was never the worse for wear but he guessed a real little girl, the true target audience, would not be so obsessively careful with her toys. Julia clearly was not.

Rocco stuttered, “Oh...okay.”

Julia's smile faded, “What's wrong?”

“Umm, well, let's do our homework now and I'll fix her hair. Kit wouldn't hang out with her friend Ruthie in such a state.” he explained.

Julia grumbled but complied. The babysitter and his charge sat at the kitchen table. Rocco went online to figure out how to fix doll such messy hair while answering Julia's question's about her homework. He had never been a great student, but he had been getting a lot better lately since he had started to become a sissy and was behaving better.

By the time they were done with homework Kit had been made presentable. He couldn't fix the tear in her dress or find the missing shoe but Julia promised to look for it. After dinner they finally got to do what they both wanted to do and play together with their dolls for a few hours. Julia had a very vivid imagination and Rocco could barely keep up.

When Tabitha's parents returned home they were amazed to see Rocco sitting lazily on the couch and their daughter fast asleep right on time with her room cleaned and homework done. They could barely manage that most days matter how hard they tried. He was the best babysitter they had ever had.

He came home quietly, hoping not to make a fuss. It was late but the TV was on and he could hear Aileen and Alexis laughing at some show. He tried to sneak upstairs but they had heard him coming in. They had been waiting for him.

Aileen raced up to him and gave him a hug. She dragged him into the TV room. “So, how did it go?”

He was sheepish at first but in a few seconds he broke into a huge smile, “It went great! Julia and I got along great and her parents were really impressed. They said I was the best babysitter they ever had! I'm their regular babysitter now, not just covering for Tabitha anymore. They're going to recommend me to all their friends!”

“Wow!” Aileen exclaimed, “You're gonna make a lot of money!”

Alexis coughed, pointedly. Rocco nodded and walked over to his mother, he retrieved the money from his pocket and handed it to her. She counted it.

“Very good, Adriana.”

“That covers my new underwear, right?”

His mother nodded at him. She handed him back a twenty dollar bill. “It's your first payday, you deserve some of it.”

Rocco smiled and accepted the gift. He sat down on the couch between his mother and sister with his doll Ruthie in his lap. At some point he fell asleep and had his usual pleasant dreams of sugar and spice.

As the weeks went by Rocco picked up more and more clients. Julia's parents were giving rave reviews to everyone who asked and they were a very valuable reference. It turned out they had even used a Nanny-Cam, which was very helpful for parents who were skeptical about him. There was very little doubt about how dedicated he was when you could watch him sit around for hours fixing a favored toy while helping his charge with their homework.

The little boys were the hardest for him. He could toss a ball around as well as he could play with dolls but a lot of them had heard about his odd hobbies. It was hard to get their respect, but he worked hard and earned it. In the end he earned approval from every family he worked for. After a few months he had a client for every weeknight.

One day at school a girl came up to him and introduced herself, “Hi, I'm Nina.” she said. She was brown haired, slim, and really good looking.

“I'm Ad...Rocco.” he replied nervously.

She giggled at him, “Adriana, I know, it's okay. I babysit too, you stole a bunch of my clients.” She glared at him.

He looked away sheepishly. “Uhh yeah, sorry...”

She smiled at him and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “I'm just kidding with you, there's plenty of room in this town for the both of us. In fact, I was hoping we could exchange numbers. Sometimes I can't make an appointment or one of my clients has an emergency and needs me on short notice. I was thinking we could team up and cover each other when we can't make it to a job. It would be good for both our businesses.”

It made sense to him. She seemed nice enough and it would be helpful to be able to have a backup. He reached into his pocket but stopped halfway, a smile appeared on his lips. “I dunno, I don't know you that well. Maybe we should hang out a bit first so I can be sure you're trustworthy?”

She smiled back and her hand gently brushed his arm, “I was thinking the same thing, how about you take me to dinner Friday night and we can talk...business?”

He jumped to say “Yes” but she cut in first, “No, I have to babysit this Friday. If only I had someone to cover for me!” She giggled, “Friday after next?”

“Sure!”

He walked home in a happy mood. This was the first date he had been able to make since he had started to change and she seemed really nice. When he came home his happiness was obvious and for once his mother seemed happy as well. She returned his smile as he greeted her. He sat and the kitchen table and took Ruthie out of his bag and started to comb her hair. Alexis brought him a snack and he thanked her.

“So, what are you so happy about Adriana?” his mother asked.

“I met someone at school today. I've got a date next week.”

She smiled at him, “Oh, and who's the lucky boy? Is it that Bill boy Aileen told me about?”

His face turned red. He slammed the comb down on the table and glared at her. “You know I'm not that way. YOU KNOW! I would never, ever date that faggot or any other guy!”

He started to stomp off but she told him to stay. “Hey, we have to talk. Don't be such a pussy about it. I'm just teasing. Have you thought about what you're going to get your sister for her birthday?”

Rocco shrugged, still angry. “I have a few ideas, why?”

“Well, she mentioned she really wants a trip to that new spa and salon for her and a guest. I already got her something, so I figure you can handle this. It's expensive, but you have plenty of babysitting money.”

He nodded, still angry at her. “I'll look into it.” He started to walk away but turned back, “Her name is Nina!” He ran upstairs.

They went out to dinner as a family for Aileen's birthday. For once Alexis and Rocco seemed to get along, neither of them wanted to upset Aileen. They made small talk and shared their favorite stories about Aileen and had a good time. Before Aileen opened her gifts she opened a few cards that had come in the mail. One in particular caught everyone's attention. Aileen opened it and her eyes opened in shock.

“What?” Alexis and Rocco asked at once.

“Cousin Timmy has a new girlfriend.”

She showed them the picture. It was an extremely young looking girl with reddish hair.

Rocco raised his eyebrow, “Wow, she's incredible but...she almost looks like a little girl.”

Alexis laughed. “Oh, I know all about her. You should meet her sometime Rocco. You have a lot in common.”

“What?” Aileen and Rocco asked together.

“She's a boy. Or used to be, I guess. They met at school, he's nuts for her. The family hates her though, they aren't as open minded and accepting as your family Adriana.”

Rocco rolled his eyes at that. His mother still routinely verbally abused him over what he was becoming. Neither of the siblings could believe the girl in the picture was a boy, but they definitely both wanted to meet her sometime. Aileen opened a few more cards, when she was done Rocco handed over his present in a pink envelope tied with a white ribbon.

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Ade. What could it be?”

She opened the envelope and her face exploded in delight and she squealed in pleasure. “Oh! A spa and salon day for two! A day of relaxation and massage and a makeover and hairstyling! It's just what I wanted! There's a great boutique there and I can do some shopping too!”

She lept out of her seat and gave Rocco a big hug. “We're going to have so much fun! When do you want to go?”

He was about to say, “You're welcome.” but it caught in his throat, “You're *gulp*, wait, you want to bring ME? I thought you would take one of your friends...”

“Oh.” Her excitement seemed to fade and she turned around. She sounded disappointed, “I guess it may be too girly for you. I guess I just think of you more as a sissy sister now.”

He started to think about it. They would do his hair. His scalp started to tingle. They would put makeup on him. His face felt flush and warm. They would do his nails...

He raised up his hands and looked at them.

He broke into a smile and grabbed his sister in a hug, “I'd love to go with you! I'd love to! Thank you so much! It's gonna be so fun! Thank you!”

Brother and sister bounced up and down in excitement. Rocco became aware of multiple people staring at him, shaking their heads.

They sat down and his face was crimson with embarrassment, but the two siblings couldn't stop smiling.

“So when are you free, Ade?”

“Hmm...” He checked the calendar in his phone. “We have off school next Thursday and I don't have any sitting to do. That should work.”

Aileen nodded at him. “Perfect!”

Alexis smiled at him. “You'll look so cute for your date on Friday!”

His smile faded.

Aileen giggled, “Don't worry Ade, I've gotten to know Nina a bit since you mentioned her. I know exactly what she wants in a boy, trust me!”

He smiled. His sister always steered him right.

His excitement and anticipation for the spa day grew and grew. When the day finally came and they were both super excited, they smiled and laughed together the whole drive to the spa.

He had been worried he would get some weird looks going to a spa with his sister, but as he had been looking over the brochure for the spa he had learned they had many services for men too so he didn't stand out that much, yet. Once it was clear what services he was there for exactly things might get a bit more uncomfortable.

They were met by a woman named Jenny who would be taking care of them for the day. She greeted them both warmly and introduced herself before getting right to business.

“Normally we start you off with the relaxing stuff, but since you asked for a full waxing....” she looked over at Rocco, “and it looks like this is your first time...well I just think we should get that out of the way first because it's going to be a big job.”

Rocco found the waxing most unpleasant. Pain didn't usually bother him, but this was like nothing he ever experienced before. For some reason though, he felt good about the whole thing. When it was done and he looked in the mirror and he was hairless absolutely everywhere but his head, he felt a reassuring warmth and knew he never wanted body hair again.

“If you want to be hairless permanently we can start with electrolysis next time you're here.” Jenny told him. He only nodded, that was definitely what he wanted. Jenny smiled at him.

Aileen had watched over him through the painful ordeal and tried to distract him by talking about the rest of their day and suggesting different looks and hairstyles for him. She knew the makeover was what he was looking forward to the most even though he had to be prodded to admit it.

With that waxing of the way Jenny led them to a massage room. The siblings undressed and wrapped themselves in towels. A large, muscular man and a petite woman entered the room. The man greeted Rocco and was about to go to work, with Rocco turning bright red at the prospect. Aileen saw he was uncomfortable and decided to save him the embarrassment. He had enough of it in his life. With a smile she called the male masseuse over to her instead.

It was a ninety minute Swedish massage and it was deeply relaxing for both of them. Rocco let all his stress and tension float away. There was relaxing new age music playing and a lavender aromatherapy component as well.

After that they enjoyed a soak in a scalding hot tub with lavender petals. Rocco had never felt so close to his sister and she felt the same way about her Adriana. Jenny practically had to drag them out. Their day of relaxation continued with facials for both of them. Rocco had no idea what the point of the procedure even was so Jenny had to explain how it would clean, exfoliate, and nourish their skin so their faces would look clear and beautiful.

The facial was a strange new experience for Rocco but the body wrap and scrub was even more hard to believe. They both laid down on sheets of plastic and after a body mask of mud was applied they were snugly wrapped in the plastic while receiving scalp massages for about twenty minutes. The wrap was extremely tight and almost made Rocco feel claustrophobic, but it also made him feel warm and secure and relaxed.

After the body wrap was done they were given a full body scrub and then sent off to shower. Rocco had never felt so clean and relaxed. It was as if every aspect of the person he used to be had been waxed, massaged, soaked, and scrubbed away. The only thing that was left was Adriana, and Adriana wanted nothing more than to finish his day at the spa with a makeover and some shopping for new clothes.

Aileen directed all the proceedings for his makeover and made sure everything was done exactly right and chose his first outfit for him to get the perfect look she had planned for. She was demanding everything be absolutely right and ran Jenny and the stylists absolutely ragged to make sure they would deliver.

Along the way she explained everything they were doing to him from his nails to his makeup to his hair and described how she would teach him to maintain the look or alter it to his satisfaction. She comforted him when he was nervous about getting his ears pierced. It was a challenge to keep a straight face for that. Her big tough brother scared of two little pricks?

When it was done he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was a totally new person. Not a girl, but not quite a boy anymore either. He was a beautiful sissy ready for his date with his equally pretty girlfriend.

Aileen stood smiling at her brother with pride. “You've turned into such a good girl I didn't want to do anything slutty, and I know this is the kind of thing Nina likes. I went for a preppy girl look, without going too overboard and making people think you aren't a boy. What do you think?”

On his feet he wore pink high heeled shoes and a delicate golden anklet. He wore tan capri pants ending just below the knee. He wore a very feminine and preppy white Lily Pulitzer button down shirt with a perfect, tight fit. It was neatly tucked in of course. Over the shirt he wore a delicate pink sweater vest.

His makeup was subtly done to feminize his features without being ostentatious. It would take him some serious practice under his sister's tutelage to be able to put it on himself without looking like a clown. He smiled at the small, shimmering diamond studs in his ears.

His hair was what shocked him the most. In contrast to the perfectly refined preppy makeup and clothes his hair looked almost wild and unkempt. It was now bleach blonde, the the most striking feature of the wild style was long side-swept bangs that dropped down on the left side to entirely cover one of his eyes.

It took him a moment to figure out what it was even supposed to be, but then he understood. It was an emo haircut...an emo boy haircut. In some sense the chaotic hair clashed entirely with his prissy, preppy outfit and makeup. Somehow though, it worked. At his core Adriana was a clash, a boy dressing and acting like a girl. He would never pass as a girl in an outfit like this, but the haircut made it clear he was making a fashion statement and not trying to fool anyone.

He twisted and turned and observed himself. The more he looked, the better he felt. Like at every milestone in his path towards becoming Adriana he felt an otherworldly sense of pleasure and peace. In his first full outfit of female clothes he felt like he had stepped into a new skin that he never wanted to leave.

Aileen started to ask if he really liked it but before she was finished he rushed over to her as fast as he could. That wasn't very fast, he almost tripped twice and had to stop to regain his shaky balance in the unfamiliar new heels. He hugged his sister tightly. “It's perfect Aileen! It's totally ME!” he squealed in delight.

They spent the rest of the day looking for more clothes to fit the style Aileen had come up with. No dresses or skirts yet. Aileen figured he wasn't ready to give up pants yet even if he was in all girl's clothing. The shoes turned out to be Adriana's number one obsession, he had to build each outfit from the shoes up because he found so many he swore he just couldn't live without. They also selected a purse for him, a DKNY Leather Zip Top Shoulder Bag. He felt so complete once it was added to his ensemble. He never intended to go anywhere without a purse again. It was comforting to feel it's presence, slung over his shoulder. It reminded him of holding his doll.

When they were done there was only one pair of heels left they couldn't work into an appropriate outfit. They were closed toe light purple Mary Jane platform shoes with a ruffled trim and six inch heels. They were unbelievably slutty looking but the ruffles and bow at the toe suggested innocence.

Aileen rolled her eyes at his insistence that they buy the expensive shoes. “We already spent way too much money on all these outfits. Mom agreed to pay for some of it but you're still going to be turning over all of your babysitting money for months.”

Adriana stamped her foot as she admired herself in the shoes, “I don't care, I want them! You know how I get when I want something.” He giggled.

She knew, but she also knew he had been made to want most of the things he ended up begging for. She couldn't tell her brother about that though. “Ade...they're for a stripper. I don't even know why they have them in a high-end place like this. Nina isn't going to...”

He cut her off. “I don't care, I want them. I'll find an outfit to go with them later.”

“Look, you can't even walk in them! You can barely handle the other ones and they aren't even close to...”

He looked at her with determination. He took several unsteady mincing steps towards her, started to lose his balance and almost keeled over. He managed to stay upright and his cheeks turned even brighter red. “My mind is made up.” he insisted.

She shrugged. “Well okay, but like I told you they're stripper shoes. The only outfit that goes with them might be none.” She gave him a playful laugh but he only continued to glare back.

They got the shoes. Jenny escorted them out, helping to carry some of the bags containing Adriana's new wardrobe and got them to commit to come back in a month. The siblings decided to make a regular ritual of it. Aileen drove them home. Adriana was still too excited about his new look to focus on anything else.

When she took a turn he wasn't expecting he looked at her quizzically.

She responded, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Remember Mom wanted you to see that therapist to figure out what's wrong with you?”

He looked a bit frustrated, “There's nothing wrong with me. I've never felt better.”

She shrugged, “Well I'm sure the therapist will see it the same way, you have your first appointment tonight.”

There was no point in arguing about it. When they arrived at the office they found Alexis was waiting for them. She looked at her son with the customary sneer she always wore. He hoped she would accept him for who he is soon. He hoped the therapist would help.

A blonde haired little girl in a pink and white sundress walked out holding tightly onto her mother's skirt. She wore a headband with two cute, floppy bunny ears attached. She looked over at him and took in his outfit and makeup. “You didn't listen...too late now...”

“Quiet Cecily, you know better than to bother the Doctor's other clients.” her mother scolded her as they left. Her daughter never let go of her skirt.

He sat in the waiting room while his mother and sister discussed some billing issue with the therapist, a tall blonde woman who introduced herself as Lucinda. He couldn't figure out what the girl was talking about. Didn't listen to what? He figured she must be disturbed and that's why she needed therapy at such a young age.

Aileen told her mother and Lucinda all about their day and how it had gone exactly according to plan. “Aside from his obsession with those hideous purple heels I mean.” she told them.

Lucinda shrugged, “He was a bad boy at heart, now he wants to be a bad girl. It's okay, he'll find the right time for them someday. For now though, it's time for his final major treatment...”

Aileen interrupted, “Oh, but I was hoping you could wait. You see, he has a date tomorrow and...”

Both Alexis and Lucinda stared her down. Alexis spoke harshly, “No, no more girlfriends for Rocco. Do you remember what happened the last time he went on a “date”? No matter how well tamed he is now, he can't be trusted again.”

Aileen whined, “But he's so different, I'm sure he won't....”

Lucinda cut her off. “The answer is no, we have a schedule to keep and it won't be changed. I told you from the start I was in charge and there is no backing out. From now on the only dates he will want to go on are as a submissive little sissy for whatever dominant guy wants him.”

Aileen continued to complain, “...but it's too late to cancel and....”

Lucinda laughed. “Cancel? Oh, we aren't canceling his date, it just won't go at all like he planned.”

Session Four: The Bad Boy

Aileen waited up for her brother to come home from his date. Alexis had been planning to stay up too but she had fallen asleep. Aileen sighed as she looked over at her mother. Alexis had only been trying to stay up so she could revel in Adriana's pain and humiliation. She never got tired of bullying the poor sissy. Aileen had used to think it was just revenge, but now she wondered if her mother had been a bully too all along. Why else would her son have ended up like he did?

She heard the door open and close quietly. She heard the click of heels and a loud noise. Adriana screamed out in pain. He had managed to trip in his heels. He was still a total klutz in them and Aileen was beginning to wonder if he would ever figure them out. She went to him and embraced him in a hug. His crying became louder and she shushed him and pointed to their mother in the other room. She guided him up the stairs, holding his hand to make sure he didn't fall over again.

They sat beside each other on his bed with Adriana crying on his sister's shoulder. A position he was starting to become very familiar with. “Oh Ade, it couldn't have been that bad, what happened?” she asked him.

“It was the worst night of my life, Leeny.” He choked up and continued crying and hiccuping as he explained.

“...I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw her. I don't know, she's exactly my type but there was just no spark. She was really into me but I just...didn't feel anything like that for her. After dinner we started to make out in the car for a little while but I felt nauseous and just couldn't do it. I think it must have been the food...”

Aileen simply held his hand and prompted him to go on. She already knew what went wrong, but she could never tell.

”...So we decided to go to the movies to some romantic comedy she wanted to see. I was waiting for her outside the bathroom when these three boys saw me and started laughing at me and making fun of my outfit.”

Aileen nodded. He was wearing what they had picked out at the spa boutique. Pink high heels, tan capris, a preppy blouse, and a pink sweater. It had the intended effect on Nina but it was easy to see how it could attract some negative attention from others if a boy wore an outfit like that.

“Well, I was going to put them in their place but Nina came back and kissed me passionately right in front of them.” He briefly smiled, “I didn't have to say anything.”

Aileen smiled back and vocalized his thoughts, “So what you little assholes, you think I'm a queer? You're the ones without a date.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think that pissed them off. They followed us into the theater and sat right behind us. It was obvious they didn't come to see some romantic comedy, but they decided I would be the best entertainment they would find for the night.”

Aileen jumped in worriedly, “You didn't get into a fight with them did you? Did they hurt you?”

Adriana laughed. “They talked over the movie. They tossed popcorn that hit more people around us than me or Nina. When one of them started talking on his cell phone enough was enough. I turned around and grabbed his phone and snapped it in half. I told him I would do the same to him and his friends if they didn't get out.”

Aileen shook her head at him. “You know you can't be getting into fights anymore, you've been in trouble with the law before and now that...well...you know Adriana wouldn’t last that long locked up.”

He started to cry again at that. For one moment he had felt like an alpha male again. Valiantly defending his date and getting a cheer from the rest of the people in the theater for it, but his sister was right. He was a sissy now.

“Well, they didn't even have tickets, it's not like they would have told anyone at the theater and if they did no one in the audience would have sided with them. But you're right, I'll be careful.”

He was silent for a few moments and needed to be prompted to continue, “Okay, so this doesn't sound all bad. She must have been impressed how you stood up to those boys. It sounds like this date is starting to go well, isn't it?”

He replied, “That's what I thought...we started to make out again and my upset stomach came back. I couldn't explain what was going on in the middle of the movie so I told her I wanted to go somewhere more private.”

Aileen held his hand again, she knew what must be coming.

“I led her out to the car, I just wanted to get some air and explain that I was sick and needed to cut it short...but she dragged me into the backseat....and....”

He looked away in embarrassment about the intimate detail he was about to go in to.

“It's okay Ade, we're so close now, you can tell me anything. You know you can trust me. We're like sisters now.” she gently reminded him.

“We started to make out again. I still felt nothing at all...just vaguely...disgusted. She was getting really aggressive...I guess that's just how she is, why she must like...sissies like me...She guided my hand to her breast and under her skirt and told me to rub. I did, I've been with girls enough to know what to do but...this just felt wrong. It felt like...” his face reddened, “like doing it with a sister. It was just wrong and didn't feel right at all. I told her we had to stop, that I was feeling sick again. She looked at me, she looked angry and frustrated, like I was playing with her. Like I was playing hard to get. The look vanished and she held me close. She said, 'Oh, it's okay, I know how to make you feel better.' She pulled my capris down and my panties with them. Then she saw.”

Aileen held him tight.

“I wasn't egging her on and playing hard to get. I was entirely flaccid. No life at all. I might as well have been in a cold shower.. The anger came back to her face for just a moment before she wiped it off her face. She touched it. Nothing happened. She rubbed it, she stroked it. It was still lifeless. She stared right into my eyes. She bent down into my lap and licked it. She looked up, and back down. She took it into her mouth and sucked it. My dream girl, she had my cock in her mouth and all I could feel was disgust.”

His crying reached peak intensity and the rest of the story came out in a jumbled and confused whine. “She shoved me out of the car and locked the door and she was screaming 'FAGGOT! FAGGOT! I KNEW YOU WERE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. WHY DID I BELIEVE YOUR SISTER WHEN SHE SAID YOU WERE STRAIGHT?' I tried to explain it was just the food.”

He looked at his sister who could not bring herself to face him just then. “It was just the food, Aileen...it was the food...I just felt sick.”

He looked away as well, “So there I was. Locked out of the car begging to be let in by a girl screaming at the top of her lungs that I was a faggot and that she wouldn't be my beard. I looked around in a panic to see if anyone was watching. The three boys, of course, they were doubled over in hysterics. They had been right about me all along, they thought, and how sweet it was to see me humiliated after what I had done to them inside...”

Aileen was still looking away, he poked her on the shoulder and she looked back, tears in her eyes now too. “Leeny, did I mention when she shoved me out of the car my capris didn't come with me? I was just in my...panties...and the boys were coming closer. Nina made me kneel by the car and beg her to let me in. She didn't say a word to me the whole ride back. When I dropped her off all she said was that she never wants to see me again.”

He rubbed his eyes. They were all dry and cried out. He considered his sister. She was his best friend now. At school barely anyone but Bill would really talk to him and other than that all he had was the kids he babysat. She was crying for him, she cared so much about him even though he was turning into such a weirdo.

“I'm...I'm sure it's gonna be okay Aileen, I just needed to get it all off my chest. It won't be so bad in the morning. It was just the food...Nina won't be so angry Monday and she'll probably go out with me again soon...I hope...once she understands it was just the food.”

His sister kept crying. “Come on, it's okay. Why are YOU so upset? It's not like any of this is your fault. The outfit you picked out was a hit, maybe you can find me a lawyer to sue about that food poisoning!” He laughed weakly.

“Right,” she said, “Not my fault...at all. I love you Ade. I have to go to bed now.”

She ran out of the room crying. Adriana undressed and got into bed, feeling much better after having a good cry. “I love you too sis.”

Adriana came downstairs the next morning looking extremely morose. He was wearing nothing but his lingerie under one of Rocco's old bathrobes. He sat down at the table across from his sister, one eye remained hidden by his new bangs as usual and the other was looking down at the doll in his lap. He fidgeted around and looked at his robe in disgust. He was clearly doing everything not to look his mother or sister in the eye.

Alexis smiled towards her humbled son who again was focused on Ruthie. “So, how did the date go?” She asked with mock innocence.

He froze.

“I don't wanna talk about it.”

She laughed, “Are you two going to see each other again?”

“I doubt it.” he replied.

“Oh, what went wrong?” she asked smugly.

He stood up with his hands clenched at his side and stamped his foot. “I SAID I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Ten minutes later Aileen was alone at the table listening to the shouting and crying from upstairs, occasionally there was a loud crack and scream as Adriana received his little reminder to obey his mother. She would have the full story out of him soon.

Aileen looked over at the bathrobe that had fallen away as her mother dragged Adriana upstairs. He hated it. He had his lingerie and his outfits for outside the house but they hadn’t really bought him anything to lounge around in. Aileen felt extreme guilt for her part in her brother's most recent humiliations. She had enthusiastically agreed with the idea to change his sexual orientation for his own good, but they didn't have to be so cruel about how they did it. She obviously couldn't apologize though, so she decided to make it up to him as best as she could in another way. She left the house and went shopping.

When she came home her mother was sitting on the couch watching TV. Adriana was nowhere to be seen.

She smirked at her daughter, “You spent more of your money on that little fag? Well he locked himself in his room and won't come out. Good luck giving him his sissy presents.”

Aileen just shook her head and didn't reply. She went upstairs and knocked on her brothers door.

“Go away.” he mumbled.

“It's Aileen, can I come in, I bought you some things and...”

“GO AWAY!” he yelled.

She backed off. It was best to let him have his space. She knew by now he would come cry on her shoulder if he needed to. Besides, she had some work to do to finish off one of the gifts. Adriana moped in his room all day, and listened curiously to the sound of the sewing machine from across the hall.

Adriana emerged from his room Sunday morning looking much as he did the day before, in another old robe looking disheveled and unhappy. He was shocked to almost run right into his sister, standing in the hallway waiting for him with two big shopping bags in her hands and a huge smile on her face.

She was wearing a pink silk kimono emblazoned with white dragons. From one of the bags she retrieved something for him, a twin kimono. She held it up to him.

His hands went to his cheeks. “Ohmygosh! It's so cute!”

Adriana loved the kimono, it was the most comfortable garment he had ever worn but besides that it meant a lot that his sister had bought it for him to cheer him up and that she had a matching one. She had other presents for him as well. Nothing fancy, just casual things to wear around the house. Pink shorts and sweatpants and simple girl's cotton tank tops.

She got him pajamas too so he could stop sleeping in just his lingerie. She took them out of the bag one by one. “I got a bunch of different sets for you to try on. You don't have to keep them all.”

They were all Disney themed, some with shorts and some with long pants and a comfortable nightshirt. Adriana rolled his eyes at his sister, “Are you sure you got these in the women's department. I'm not a little girl, you know.”

She laughed at him playfully, “They were on sale. The kimonos really wiped me out, okay?”

She held up a pair of Tinker Bell pajamas for him to try on. The very short-shorts were tight and and it made him a little uncomfortable, it wouldn't be much different from just wearing panties to bed. In fact you could see the little pink hearts on his panties right through them. Aileen made him do a twirl and really show off.

“They make your ass look great, Ade.” she giggled.

Adriana turned bright red and tossed a pillow at his sister, “These are pretty humiliating Leeny, I think we're gonna return that set.”

He was similarly unenthusiastic about the rest of the pajamas and found something to nitpick about all of them. Aileen was somewhat relieved, she had spent a lot and wouldn't mind returning some as long as Adriana was happy in the end. She was folding up the last pair and putting it away when she heard Adriana gasp.

“Oh!” He said. There was one more pair Aileen had forgotten about. A very frilly yellow shirt and long pants combo featuring Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

He tried them on and it was clear he was happy with them. Aileen stared at him primping in the mirror and admiring himself in his new girly pajamas. She wondered why he had chosen them. Was the symbolism smacking him in the face like it was her, even subconsciously beneath his treatments? He was Beauty and the Beast, all in one.

He turned around quickly and looked right at his sister, his pretty face half hidden as usual by his blonde hair, “I love them! So comfy!”

“I have one more thing for you Ade.”

She reached into a bag and pulled out a soft purple hoody.

Adriana smiled politely at her, “Oh...that's nice.”

“You haven't seen the good part yet!” She replied, “I altered it myself for you.”

Aileen unzipped the hoody and pointed out a pouch she had sewn on the inside. Adriana squealed in delight, she didn't need any explanation of what it was for. She quickly put it on and grabbed her doll Ruthie and placed her in the pouch. She zipped the hoody halfway up.

Aileen smiled, “Now when you can keep her close and keep your hands free to do other stuff. It always takes you an hour to fold laundry because you can't stop picking her up and hugging her.”

Aileen looked at him. He was seated in front of the mirror in a purple hoody with a doll at his chest, in yellow Disney princess pajamas. Happy as could be. He began to cry a bit in happiness and they hugged. “Oh Leeny, you're so good to me. You've really cheered me up, I love you so much....but could I ask you one more favor?”

He looked down with his face red as usual, “Could you teach me to sew? Nothing fancy...I just want to fix something for Julia.”

Aileen shrugged, “Just bring it over, I'll do it for you.”

Adriana shook his head, “No, I'd like to do it for her...and...I'd really like to learn to sew too.”

First those ridiculous stripper shoes from the boutique, and now this. Aileen realized Adriana was starting to like aspects of his new identity all on his own, even outside of the program Lucinda had laid out. Aileen was more than happy to oblige him. Adriana changed back into the Kimono and the two siblings sat downstairs watching Beauty and the Beast while Aileen showed him the basics of sewing.

Alexis looked on in annoyance. She had hoped to enjoy Rocco's misery after his disastrous date for far longer. But she enjoyed seeing him in his ridiculous pink robe sewing like a good girl. No more trouble from him. The house was so peaceful now, and they didn't have to live in fear of their own family.

When the movie and the sewing lesson were done Aileen reached over and held Adriana's hand with a concerned look on her face. “Ade, are you okay, really?”

He shrugged. “It was bad, Leeny. But there are other girls. I really thought we had something when we first met though. I don't know what went so wrong...it must have been the food...”

Taking a firm grip on her brother's hand she went on, “Ade, are you going to come out tomorrow at school?”

He tore his hand away and looked deeply hurt and nearly shouted at her, “IT WAS THE FOOD, I'M NOT...”

Aileen quickly broke in, “No, NO! I meant...as a sissy...a crossdresser. You're going to wear your girl's clothes, right?”

In truth, she was testing him. He really didn't realize what had happened to him and that he would never date a girl again. Adriana rubbed his hands on the smooth silk of his robe and calmed down. “No...of course not...just wearing them at home should be enough...” he said uncertainly.

Aileen watched knowingly as Adriana fought his compulsion. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide with anxiety. He shifted in his robe enjoying the silky feel of the feminine garment all over his body.

Aileen put her hand on his shoulder, “You've already been out in public. I guarantee someone from school found out. Word gets around...and Ade...I've seen you like this before. It's only a matter of time. If you want to dress like a girl all the time you might as well just get it over with.”

Adriana decided to sleep on it. Sleep always cleared his head now with all of those pleasant dreams he could never quite remember. He woke up early to get ready, and to give himself time to change his mind if he wasn't sure. He stood in front of the mirror and admired himself.

He was immaculately made up and dressed in knee length capri jeans, a short sleeve white button up blouse, and a pale yellow cardigan. He toyed with his earrings. An adorable daisy dangled from each small, simple gold hoop. He slipped in to his yellow heals and walked back and forth across the room. He stumbled a bit, still clumsy even after hours of practice. He picked up Ruthie and looked again to the mirror. He felt the gentle, reassuring warmth that had guided him down the sissy path to where he found himself now, but something was still missing. Something had been missing ever since his disastrous date, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

It was quiet in the house. He was all alone with his thoughts and feelings. He felt the material of his white panties and bra. He appreciated the snug fit of his girl's clothes which was always such a contrast to the baggy thuggish clothing of his past. It reminded him of the body wrap at the spa. Constraining, but freeing. He felt the metallic coolness of his jewelry, the two thin gold bracelets on his wrist and the earrings and the anklet on his right foot.

He shuddered. He could feel every cell of his body. He could feel the thin layer of makeup on his skin, the extra body in his eyelashes from the mascara, smell the light application of perfume, taste the subtle bubblegum flavor of his pink lipstick. He felt each hair on his head, styled exactly where he wanted it. He ran his hand over the leather of his purse, and felt the weight of the doll in his grasp.

“Yes, Leeny, I'm coming out today.” he whispered to himself.

“I'm glad, you look prettier than ever. How long have you been up?” she asked non-nonchalantly.

He turned in surprise to see her at the door. His other senses may have been at a peak but his vision was perpetually obstructed by his new hairstyle.

“Two hours,” he looked to the window and saw that it was now light outside. How long had he been looking in the mirror? “I guess...longer...What time is it?”

“Time to go.” she told him and took him gently by the hand. She led him down the stairs, he was still terrified at using them in his heels.

He saw his mother in the kitchen. She had that trademark look of disgust on her face. Adriana returned to his warm feeling of peace and ignored her. He walked right towards the door as his sister glared at Alexis with disapproval. He was just out of the house when his wrist was grabbed from behind.

His mother told him, “Adriana, you DO look pretty. I love you. Have a nice day at school.”

He gave her a smile and continued walking to the car.

She shouted after him, “Be sure to tell me all about your coming out when you get home! Don't make me REMIND you.” He rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

He sat in the car in the school parking lot, feeling a weird mix of exhilaration and fear. His heart was telling him this would be the greatest moment of his life while his brain was telling him he was about to be humiliated as much as a teenage boy could possibly be humiliated.

He realized both must be true somehow. He got out of the car and started walking towards the school. He immediately heard gasps and laughter. He wanted to rush away but he still wasn't very confident in heels. He kept a steady pace like he had practiced with Aileen. He started to appreciate the feel of the clothing again and forgot about his fear. A smile came to his lips as he realized how great he was feeling. He didn't have to hide anything anymore. They might laugh at him but if he still felt so good what did it matter?

He met shocked silence when he entered the school, followed by giggles and mumbling as he walked through the hall to his homeroom. When the teacher was calling the roll, he didn't answer when the name “Rocco” was called. The teacher cleared his throat and the strange, sissified boy cheerfully told him, “Oh, call me Adriana from now on!”

There was open laughter in the class, his face turned red but he told himself he didn't care. Everybody in school could laugh at him, but none of them would ever really mess with him. His previous reputation as a tough guy and his current reputation as a nice guy both assured that would be the case. At least, that was what he thought, he didn't know there was someone new at the school who didn't care about either of his reputations.

Tom had been forced out of his old school for bullying. It had been an exceptionally nasty type of bullying. In addition to fighting with other boys he had been known to sexually harass them as well. Despite years of complaints from parents he had been protected because he was a basketball star. He had just been transferred to this new school today, after an accusation had surfaced that his old school could no longer ignore. This new school had somewhat undeservedly earned a reputation as a place that can reform bullies because of the drastic reduction in incidents they had recently experienced, but as it turns out the school wasn't really the cause.

Tom felt like the king of the school all day, but the best part came after the last bell. He had cornered a cute boy named Bill and was threatening and intimidating him, warning him what would happen if he didn't cooperate and go out to Tom's car with him. It was brazen to do on his first day, but it seemed like none of the faculty cared and none of the students would stand up for themselves.

Then, he saw the other boy, if you could call him that. It was a pretty boy wearing immaculately prissy girl's clothes, jewelry, makeup, and sporting a ridiculous emo haircut. A little girl's doll, of all things, was peaking out of his book bag.

Adriana had seen what was going on and rushed over to help his friend. He couldn't believe someone would threaten Bill when everyone knew he was protecting him, but this was a new bully who didn't know how things worked here. Adriana thought that Tom looked tall but not that tough. Nothing he couldn't handle.

“Leave him alone!” Adriana shouted, “Or you'll have to deal with me.”

Tom replied with confidence, “I do what I want, you really think you can stop me, Miss....?”

Adriana pouted slightly and wanted to reply that he wasn't a “Miss”, but it wouldn't be that impressive to insist on being called “Mr. Adriana.” He was starting to feel like a child having a tantrum rather than a challenger.

“I'm Adriana. And this is your last chance to let him go. He's my friend and I won't let you hurt him.”

Tom smiled and cracked his knuckles, clearly not taking the threat at all seriously. Adriana dropped his bag and started to charge at his opponent. Half blinded by his hair he didn't see the trash on the floor that caused him to slip. Unsteady as always in his heels he twisted his ankle and lost his balance while crying out in pain and falling forward right into his opponents arms.

He heard laughter everywhere around him. It was clear to the entire school now that they no longer had to be afraid of him and as nice as he was he was just too much of a hilarious spectacle to ignore. He could never fight anyone hobbled in his heels. He could pull hair and scratch like a girl at best.

He fought to get away but he was being held tightly. He realized he had no chance to break free and was just putting on a show for his audience by struggling. He could see flashes going off and he knew someone must be recording what was happening.

He was totally helpless. Suddenly he felt something inside himself change. He lost the will to fight this boy. A new feeling was taking its place. It was something like respect, but respect wasn't quite the right word..

Tom roughly bent him over. Adriana gasped and stared open mouthed at the ground in amazement. He felt...good. Feeling those big strong hands push him around. He felt warm when he thought of the power and authority of the boy who was handling him so easily. Distantly, he realized he used to be that strong, but he knew he wasn't anymore.

He felt a hand fondling his ass. He froze in fear and shocked realization. Being manhandled by this boy had achieved what his date with a girl was completely unable to accomplish, in his panties he was sporting the most rock hard erection of his life. He really was a fag, just like his mother said.

Tom felt the boy trembling in his hands and smiled. Quite a pretty boy, and he had a lot of fire. He would be fun to break.

“So, Miss Adriana, I expect an apology. I assume this little tantrum was just out of jealousy, you want me to pay attention to you instead of your other queer little friend? Isn't that right?”

“Yes.” the sissy boy whimpered to him after a moment's hesitation..

“You mean, Yes sir, Mr. Tom, right?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Tom.”

“And from now on you understand it's not your place to interfere with me?” he asked sternly.

“Yes sir, Mr. Tom, will you let me go now?” Adriana begged.

“Oh, you're coming with me when we're done here. But don't you think you need to be punished first for interrupting me?” he asked as if scolding a child.

Adriana struggled with his sissy self. He needed to find some reason to escape and to fight but that part of him was gone now. He was hypnotized by his strength, his rough voice, his manly smell. Even as he struggled with his inner self he found himself whispering, “Yes sir, I know my place now.”, and submissively sticking his butt up further in the air.

Time seemed to stand still as he waited. He seethed with his fear and humiliation at his pathetic actions while exhilarating in the feel of the strong arm holding him in place and the tingling feel of his soft feminine clothing on his skin. Being held so tightly again reminded him of the body wrap at the spa, constraining and freeing at the same time.

He let out a high pitched squeal when Tom's hand slapped his ass with tremendous force. He gasped and his eyes went wide, he started to breath heavily and almost felt like crying. None of this was from the pain. As soon as he had been hit he had cum in his panties with tremendous force. In the aftershock time stood still once again. His mouth gaped open and his body went limp, the only thing holding him upright was the arm of the boy only a few moments before he thought he could have fought. His body was overwhelmed with waves of pure pleasure like he had never experienced before and he just knew that every part of his sissy persona made this possible and contributed to where he now found himself. He had become weak and soft and his clothes and makeup and doll were huge signs to the world and to himself that this was true.

The afterglow was short lived. Time returned to a furious pace as his ass was slapped over and over again. He remained bent over, perched up on his high heels with his butt in the air and took his punishment while feeling the slick, spreading wet spot in his panties as he bucked forward with each slap.

When it was over Tom grabbed him by the ear and pulled him away. He looked behind and saw the laughter of the crowd of spectators at his crying, blushing face. He also saw his bookbag with his doll was being left behind and all he wanted to do was go home and hide under his covers while snuggling with his Ruthie. Tom kept pulling him by the ear all the way out to the parking lot and to his car. It was a brand new red Mustang. For some reason Adriana couldn't explain seeing Tom's impressive car made him feel even more worshipful and submissive towards him.

Tom saw the smile on his face. “Being my bitch has its benefits, Miss Adriana. Get in.”

Adriana did, he felt totally air-headed and off balance around Tom and couldn't explain why. He felt totally euphoric and dizzy even though there was still a logical part of his mind screaming that he was in a nightmare. His face felt flushed and he could feel all his inhibitions starting to float away. He kept on smiling as Tom started the car and drove away from the school.

Tom pulled over into a secluded park and the couple moved to the back seat. Adriana couldn't help but be painfully aware that he had been in the same situation with a girl not so long ago but this time he was having none of the performance issues that plagued him the last time. He was horny and hot for Tom and there was no way for him to deny it.

Tom slid on top of him aggressively and they started making out. Tom liked to mix pleasure and pain, he would suck on Adriana's neck until he moaned in pleasure and then quickly pinch or bite eliciting a quick flinch before returning to the gentle play. Tom knew Adriana was putty in his hands. He reached under and gently rubbed Adriana's ass and Adriana squealed in delight and locked his legs around his partner.

Even though they were just making out Adriana was having the most powerful physical sexual reaction he had ever had. He wanted Tom to hold him and never let go. He wanted to be one with him. He felt like he was nothing before he met him. He wanted to be near him no matter what it cost, even if he would be nothing but a humiliated sissy bitch for him. It would all be worth it if he could feel like this.

Tom could feel the sissy's cock underneath him and how close his lust drunk partner was to exploding again. He wanted to prolong the fun and tease the sissy so he backed off a bit and started to strip him.

He pulled off the cute yellow sweater. Next he took his time undoing each button on the white blouse to expose the unnecessary but cute white bra. Adriana shuddered with pleasure as his capris came off, but then Tom opened the door and ordered Adriana out.

So there he stood in front of this boy who was dominating him and making him swoon in nothing but his white bra and cumstained panties, his jewelry, and his yellow high heels. Tom posed him in various positions and took photos with a digital camera.

Spread eagled on the hood of the car, Adriana looked up and admired his heels until he heard the click. He was bent over the hood and Tom pulled Adriana's hard cock between his legs and Adriana almost died with pleasure at his touch, but all he was doing was posing his cock like he posed the rest of Adriana so it would show up in the photo from behind.

Tom switched the camera to timer mode so he could be in a few. Adriana was made to kneel on the grass in front of Tom and look up at his crotch admirably. Next he sat on a bench and took Adriana over his knee in a spanking position. He slapped, rubbed, and pinched his sissy's ass. He could tell this was the way to Adriana's heart as she squealed in pleasure and looked to be ready to come in his panties once again.

“Okay baby, enough foreplay.” he told Adriana, “It's time to get off!”

Adriana looked excited at the prospect, but he didn't know Tom didn't mean him. Tom took Adriana off his knee and they sat beside each other on the bench. Tom pulled out his cock. Adriana stared at it in doe eyed wonder. For some reason Adriana felt like it was the most fascinating and amazing thing he had ever seen. He started to drool and salivate.

Tom took Adriana's arm by the wrist and put his hand on the newly freed cock and told his sissy, “Stroke it till I cum, and then maybe we can sort you out.”

“Yes sir.” the sissy replied shyly.

Adriana felt the heat from the warm, hard cock in his hand and and felt dizzy with exhilaration. Adriana was not small by any means but this monster was something else. Adriana started to stroke, slowly and shyly at first. Tom put his arm around Adriana and pulled him close as if they were a couple at the movies rather than sitting at a park in broad daylight with Adriana nearly nude and in danger of being discovered at any moment if someone passed by.

Adriana sped up as Tom's precum made his cock more slippery and sensitive. Tom groaned in pleasure and resumed sucking on Adriana's neck. He grabbed Adriana's other arm and guided it to his balls. The sissy instinctively knew what to do and gently massaged them as he stroked his master.

Adriana kept stroking harder and harder until his arm began to ache. Finally Tom let out a massive yell of pleasure and reached an orgasm that rocked his body and covered his new sissy bitch in cum. Adriana was panting and giggling. The experience was entirely new to him. He was feeling a rush of rewarding euphoric pleasure even though he hadn't cum himself. His subconscious was rewarding him for a job well done, for pleasing his man.

Tom ordered Adriana to lick up all the cum, slowly. As Adriana started Tom whispered to him, “Doesn't it taste great, baby?”

Adriana nodded and whimpered, it was honestly one of the best things he had ever tasted.

“And someday I'm going to cum in your mouth and make you gag and swallow it all down. Isn't that what you want? To be on your knees all day long gagging on my cum, bitch?”

Adriana gushed out her affirmative response, and meant it. He dropped on his knees in front of his new master. “Can't I do it now, sir?”

“No bitch, I'm done for today. Go get dressed.”

Adriana pouted at him. “But you didn't do me ye...”

Tom slapped him across the face, hard. Adriana looked up at him in shocked hurt like a confused dog, but the adoring glint didn't leave his eye. Tom gave him another slap and Adriana kept his eyes down in fear this time while softly crying.

“Get dressed, bitch.” Tom ordered.

He got up and turned around to head to the car and was shocked to receive another sharp slap on his pantied ass. Tom grabbed Adriana from behind and pulled down his panties and his rough, strong hand enveloped Adriana's cock and balls and started rubbing. Adriana gasped and went limp in his arms again. This was nothing like stroking himself with lube or having a girl suck his cock, it was the raw and rough hand of a man but he loved it. He could feel Tom's package rubbing against his panties from behind and wished it was inside of him. It only took about a minute before Adriana came all over his master's hand with a massive girly squeal of delight. Tom let him go, and Adriana collapsed to the ground without the support, panties around his ankles. Tom went to the car and retrieved Adriana's abandoned clothes. He wiped the cum off his hand on the yellow cardigan and dropped the clothes on the ground for Adriana to pick up when he was recovered. Tom lit a cigarette and smiled at the site of the beautiful ravished boy on the ground in front of him.

Slowly, Adriana got dressed again. He was far less crisp and fresh faced than he had been that morning as he admired himself in the mirror. His makeup was a disaster, his clothes were crumpled and cumstained, and his hair was more of a mess than usual. His ankle still hurt from tripping when all this started.

He minced back to the car and the feelings of lust that had driven him to such a state started to fade away and left only feelings of shame. He could hardly remember everything that happened, it was a long blur of humiliation and confused, intense pleasure. Everyone at school would know this boy had dominated him and dragged him out by his ear. And he had those pictures. And Adriana was sure this fit of lust would not be a one time aberration. He knew every time his new sissy feelings expressed themselves they were here to stay. He was a fag now, and he was Tom's bitch.

As they drove back to the school he stared down at his hands and felt used and cheap. He couldn't look Tom in the eye. Tom, for his part, smiled and whistled the whole way back. He didn't mind if Adriana couldn't look him in the eye, breaking him like this was all part of the fun.

“Was this your first time with a boy, bitch?” he asked.

“Yes sir, Mr. Tom.” Adriana replied in a whisper.

“It won't be your last, you know.” he said confidently.

Adriana whispered back, “I know.”

Tom dropped Adriana off back at school and drove away. Adriana found Bill and Nina sitting on a bench together. He wanted to turn and run away when he saw her but he had no choice but to approach them. They had his bag and had been trying to figure out where he had gone. When they saw him, they figured it out, for the most part. He started to cry and they both hugged him as he clutched the doll he always kept in his bag to his chest.

“Thanks for trying to get that jerk to leave me alone.” Bill told him. “I...guess he likes you better anyway, right?” Bill shook his head at him. “I've been with that kind of boy before. You really should stay away from the bad boys, Adriana. You can find a hunk who won't treat you like that. ”

Adriana nodded even as he cried, he couldn't express what he was feeling towards Tom, but he knew he would want to see more of him.

Nina apologized for humiliating him during their date, “I can't imagine how hard it is to come out like you have. I don't blame you for trying to hide it. We can still be friends now that you're being honest with everyone.”

When Adriana went home that day, he had another long cry on his sister's shoulder, but it didn't save him from having to tell his Mom all about his coming out.

She told him to stop whining about being humiliated about what happened. “Don't be ridiculous Adriana, everyone knew you were gay already. How long have I been saying it? It should be a relief being out about it now. No more secrets, no more hiding, you can just be yourself! I'm disappointed you turned out to be such a girly queer of course, but if that's who you are it's who you have to be.”

For some reason that wasn't much of a comfort so he was happy when she told him she would be taking him to see a therapist about his homosexuality and gender issues. When they entered the office a little girl in bunny ears walked out with her hands tightly gripping her mother's skirt. Adriana nodded a greeting at the two but it seemed like they purposefully ignored him on their way out. He shrugged. While he sat in the waiting room Aileen and Alexis talked to the therapist, a pretty blonde woman who was casually dressed, about some billing issues.

“So, everything went fine!” Lucinda cheerfully announced when she heard the story. “He has his hunk and his transformation is nearly complete.”

“No.” Aileen spoke up, “Not fine. He slapped him around. He's too humiliated to admit it but you can see it on his face. This kid is an asshole from what I've heard about him and I don't want Adriana to get hurt...”

Alexis laughed, “But that's the whole point. Now he gets to know what it's like to be bullied for a while. It's not like he has to marry him.”

Lucinda agreed, “Give it a few months for him to really know what it feels like. Adriana would be heartbroken if we took away his boytoy now anyway. This last phase will be complete when he goes all the way with his true love. When that's done, we let him choose his own path.”

Aileen nodded, but she didn't like it.

Session Five: True Love

Adriana sat again in his homeroom class. He was wearing white pants with pink hearts up the side and a white blouse over his satin bra and panties. He was playing with one of his dangling pink heart shaped earrings and dreaming of Tom while staring out into space.

The teacher was going through the roll again and called out, “Roc...Adriana?” The teacher sighed as he realized the strange feminized boy was lost in space again and just marked him down as present.

Adriana couldn't focus in any of his classes. He had never been this distracted by a girl. He figured it was because he had always secretly been gay and had just been lying to himself. All day he looked out for Tom in the hallways. When he finally saw him an instant bright smile came to Adriana's lips. He minced over to Tom to say 'Hello' but Tom didn't seem quite so interested.

He shoved Adriana into a locker, “Out of my way fag.”

A bunch of other students laughed as Adriana watched Tom walk away. He realized he was about to cry and ran off to the bathroom and hid in a stall sniffling and hugging his Ruthie doll. He couldn't understand why Tom would ignore him. Didn't he want Adriana as much as Adriana wanted him? He couldn't have become bored with him so quickly.

The next day Adriana tried to approach him at lunchtime. Tom was sitting with a bunch of other jocks he had made friends with. When Adriana came near Tom told him to get lost and knocked Adriana's tray out of his hands. He wanted to run away and cry again but first he had to clean up the mess.

He bent over to pick up the dropped food but froze when he felt a hand rubbing his ass. Involuntarily Adriana immediately giggled like a schoolgirl. “He does like me!” he thought with glee. His cock twitched in his panties. Suddenly the rubbing turned to a sharp slap.

Adriana's precarious balance in heels haunted him again and he tumbled over in surprise and landed right on the spilled lunch. Now he did run off in tears with the jocks laughing and calling him a fag and with his shirt stained with ketchup and other bits of food. He spent the rest of the lunch period in the bathroom trying to clean the stains off his blouse but he couldn't quite manage it. Adriana was furious with Tom but his feelings for him didn't really change. He was obsessed with a boy who only wanted to bully him and there was nothing he could do about it.

Over the next few weeks he stopped trying to approach Tom in the halls. He noticed Tom was clearly interested in girls just as much as he was boys. He leered at them and flirted with them all the time while all Adriana could do was watch on with a jealous pout. Adriana was becoming extremely desperate. He had no control of his urges for Tom just like he had no control of his urges to dress and act like a sissy, but with those things all it took to end his desperation was his personal willingness to give in. Now, the decision was out of his hands.

One day he was sitting and chatting with Aileen who was giving him more sewing lessons. They were both in their matching pink silk kimonos with some soap opera on in the background.

Aileen was extremely frustrated that her brother could not focus on his lesson like he normally did. “You can't let some boy turn you into a total mimbo. Your grades are slipping too, if he doesn't want to go out with you then go find someone else. Your friend Bill is really nice.”

Adriana rolled his eyes at her, “We're just friends. Besides he isn't a hunk like Tom! He's so sexy and strong. All the girls are flirting with him. How can I compete with that?” He continued in a whiny voice, “He never even pays attention to me except to mess with me. I thought he liked me before. Why did he have to get my hopes up like that?”

Aileen was getting annoyed with him, “He's an asshole! He treats you like shit! There are so many nice boys out there, why did you have to pick this jerk?”

Adriana pouted. They both knew he was a jerk already, there was no point in bringing it up. Aileen sighed. People don't really pick who they are attracted sometimes, especially Adriana. Lucinda had more to say about it than he did. It was a waste of time to try and get him to move on.

“Well, Ade, sometimes boys are jerks to the girls they like the most. They don't really know how to express themselves otherwise. If you really want him to like you then you're going to have to make yourself irresistible to him. Stop watching him and start watching the girls he flirts with. See what he likes. Watch how they act and what they wear and what they say to him. And then, copy them.”

Adriana frowned, “But I wanna just be myself, Leeny, why should I change for him when he doesn't even care about me.”

Aileen replied, “This is how it works, Ade. If you want him to start dreaming of you instead of them, you have to give him a reason to. It won't be so hard. I'll help too since you're still new to all this fashion stuff.”

“Thanks Leeny.” said Adriana with a smile.

“We're going to have to be quick about it, school is almost out for the summer and you won't be able to see him as much anymore.” she told him.

Adriana's mind started to clear a little bit and he was able to focus on his sewing again. His panic had subsided a bit now that he had a plan to get Tom, even if the goal still seemed so far away.

Adriana asked Nina and Bill to help out too. Nina was happy to help but Bill refused.

“Adriana, you're my friend. This dude is a dick. He isn't right for you. You should be happy he's ignoring you. I'm not going to help you with this.” he said angrily.

“Fine! We'll do it without you.” Adriana dramatically stamped a heeled foot and again his precarious balance made him ready to tumble over. Bill caught him before he did but Adriana shoved him away. “I don't need your help!” Adriana minced away in a huff.

The two hadn't seen much of each other lately. Bill spent all his time after school going to a local gym. Adriana figured he was hot for some guy there since he had always been such a little wimp. He didn't seem like the weightlifting type.

They spent a few weeks observing Tom and his new main love interest who turned out to be a girl named Carrie. Aileen and Nina knew how to be discreet but Adriana always watched her with an obvious jealous frown. Carrie noticed but she didn't confront him, she wasn't worried some sissy fag could steal a boy from her. The other girls Tom flirted with were a bigger concern.

With a week left of school Adriana and his two co-conspirators were walking shoulder to shoulder through the halls discussing what they had learned about Tom's tastes in women. Nina and Aileen both agreed that Carrie should be their model.

Adriana did not like that at all. “She's disgusting. She hardly wears any clothes at all. Those short skirts or shorts with the thong showing? I've never seen her in a top that covers her belly button and she has that ridiculous ring in it. Her cleavage hangs out and...oh my God, that Snooki hair with the pouf and her makeup makes her look like a stripper...” Adriana continued to rant as they turned the corner, criticizing everything he could think of about the rival he was so jealous of. Half blinded as usual by the hair falling over one of his eyes he didn't see her in the hallway. The two girls on his arm saw her and immediately tried to stop him but he was so worked up he continued ranting away. “...oh no. I wouldn't dress like Carrie. She's nothing but a trashy SLUT!”

Carrie screamed at him. “You bitch!”

She charged at him and kicked him hard in the shin. While Adriana was shocked by the sudden pain Carrie grabbed a tight hold on his hair and yanked hard. He screamed. A crowd formed and surrounded them which pushed Nina and Aileen out of the way. Carrie pulled him painfully to the ground by his hair and then started kicking at him with her high heeled shoes. Adriana just cowered and begged her to stop. Rocco had no problems with hitting girls, but Adriana knew even a male as emasculated as he is shouldn't do it. He could hear laughter all around him and boys making sarcastic catfight noises and Nina and Aileen yelling at Carrie to leave him alone.

Carrie screamed at him and started pulling his hair again. “Where do you get off criticizing MY clothes, Ms. Prissy Preppy? Maybe if you learned to dress like me you wouldn't have lost your man. And I'M the slut? You know he's shown everyone those pictures. You know the ones. I bet you let him fuck you right there in the park on the hood of his car. Was that before or after he spanked you? Didn't you just meet him that day, WHORE?”

Adriana just whimpered and repeated over and over that he was sorry. Carrie let go of his hair and stood up. She spit on him before walking away and warned him, “Stay away from Tom, fag.”

Nina and Aileen finally managed to push through the crowd and helped him up. They helped fix his hair and brush off his clothes but he was still crying when they were done. Aileen gave him a hug but was at a loss on what to say to try and make him feel better. Even after everything that had happened to him so far, even though he was such a new person now, Aileen never expected to see her brother get his ass kicked by a girl in front of the whole school. It must have been so humiliating for him.

“Carrie's right though, you know.” Nina observed.

Adriana just stared down in shame and sniffled, barely listening, while Aileen looked at her accusingly.

Nina continued, “...She was right that you have to learn to dress like her if you want Tom. Wasn't that the whole point of this? If he wants a slut, we have to give him a slut.”

Aileen frowned. “That really doesn't matter now. Let's give Ade a day to rest and talk about it tomorrow.”

Adriana's sniffling stopped and he looked up at the two girls, all trace of his previous anguish was gone, replaced with a look of solid determination. “No. That bitch isn't taking my boy for one more day. Let's go to shopping. NOW!”

Aileen was taken aback for a moment, but she admired the toughness he was displaying, “...but Adriana, we just went shopping at the Spa boutique again last week when you had your electrolysis finished. Mom is going to be mad if you buy more clothes again...”

Adriana didn't hesitate, “She knows I'll pay her back with my babysitting money, even if it takes all summer!”

Aileen smiled. That forceful assurance was a trace of the old Rocco. Of course, Rocco had fought with his fists. Adriana would fight with a trip to the mall and a visit to the salon.

Nina squealed with anticipation of their shopping trip, “If it helps I'll let you babysit for some of my clients over the summer. I can afford to lose a few.”

Adriana hugged her. “Oh, thank you so much!”

So after school the three friends took their trip to the mall. As they left the car Aileen took Ruthie from her brother and left her in the backseat.

“What was that for?” Adriana asked while looking back and starting to feel nervous, he never liked leaving Ruthie behind.

“You'll see.” Aileen told him.

As soon as they entered the mall Aileen dragged him into a toy store and into the big pink aisle full of girl's toys. “Look Adriana, you and Ruthie are perfect for each other. You are well mannered, kind, intelligent, modest, and polite young people. That's what American Girl dolls are all about.”

Nina picked a toy from off the shelf, “If you want to be a slut you can't be an American Girl doll. You want this to be your role model, at least until you have Tom on the hook.”

She handed him the toy. It was a Bratz doll. It was a fashion doll with a skinny body, large almond shaped eyes, and poufy blonde hair. The doll wore eye shadow and glossy lipstick. The clothing was sexy black short shorts and a tight pink top. She also had a black feather boa around her shoulders. Adriana nodded. He much preferred Ruthie but he knew he would have to change to make their plan work.

The clerk at the counter could not contain her giggles at the teenage boy in girl's clothes using his mother's credit card to buy a doll meant for a little girl. “Is this for your little sister? You know a lot of parents don't like these Bratz dolls, they think they dress too sexy and set a bad example. Are you sure your Mom wants your sister to have one?”

The sissified boy replied sheepishly, “It's for me, Miss.”

The clerk did not skip a beat, “Oh, well I hope your mother approves of YOU having one. You seem like such a sweet, wholesome little girly boy. I don't want to get you in any trouble.”

The boy rolled his eyes, “Just check me out, please.”

She smiled at him. “Sure thing, sweetie.”

Of course when he got home after hours of shopping followed by the salon appointment it wasn't the doll that made his mother so angry. It was the tremendous bill for all the purchases Adriana had put on her card.

As soon as she saw the bags he and his sister returned with and the fancy new hairdo she grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the living room with orders to be quiet. She went to her computer and checked her credit bill and was shocked by the hundreds of dollars he had spent.

She came back into the room waving the bill she had printed out at him. “What makes you think you have the right to spend my money like this without asking permission, which you certainly would not have received, Adriana?”

Adriana attempted to answer but was cut off, “But Mom...I can explain...”

“Enough!” she shouted. She went to retrieve his little reminder, the paddle that enforced his discipline. “Over my knee right now, sissy!”

Aileen attempted to intervene for her brother, “But Mom, it was my fault. I encouraged him.”

“Go to your room, young lady. I'll talk with you later.” she told Aileen.

Aileen went, and left her poor sissy brother to his fate. Adriana winced when he bent over his mother's lap. Alexis felt something small poking at her leg. She stood him up again and pulled up his shirt. She saw the belly button ring. It had a pink stone with a chain dangling down to the word "diva" written in smaller pink stones. She shook her head in disbelief.

She pulled him back over her lap and pulled down his pants to reveal his pink satin panties. She gave him a firm slap with the paddle and he grunted in pain.

“What could have possibly given you the idea to get a belly button ring?” she demanded.

He was well used to being taken over his mother's knees like a little girl now. He knew there was no point in trying to lie, she would paddle the truth out of him anyway. In a whiny voice he tried to explain himself, “Mom, there's this girl Carrie at school and she has one so...”

He was interrupted by two more hard slaps. “If some girl at school jumped off a bridge would you do that too?”

“...but Mom...” he whined, “I'm trying to tell you...”

“And why does it have to be such a tacky one, Adriana, you're no “diva” and you know it, couldn't you have gotten a nice modest one at least?” She added another slap to his pantied behind for punctuation.

He went on, “...well, they were sold out of the ones that say “slut” and Nina said this was the next best thing so...”

He felt his panties being quickly pulled down. In the vulnerable position over his mother's lap he wanted to brace himself for the incoming spanking but his feet were in heels and his nails now sported extra long artificial pink nails. He was balanced on the tips of his toes and the tips of his nails. All he could do was wait and hope his mother would hold him in place and not let him fall off her lap.

She spanked him until he was reduced to frantic tears and then gave him a brief break, or maybe it was a break for herself. She was breathing heavily now from the exertion.

“A slut. Right. No wonder you had your hair done like some New Jersey skank.” Real concern seemed to enter her voice for a moment. She let her son off her lap and made him stand in front of her, pants and panties still around his ankles in case he had to be spanked again. “But why dress like a slut? I thought you liked all your new prissy clothes. You sure SPENT like you did.”

Adriana stood humiliated in front of his mother, rubbing his bottom and feeling vulnerable and exposed. “It's...it's...about a boy.” He felt a twitch from his cock. He thought, “Oh no, not now...”

“What? That Tom of yours? I thought he was in to you. You said you made out the first time you met, didn't you say he promised you that you would be together again?” She looked down and giggled mockingly. “...and I can see you never lost interest in him.”

Adriana closed his eyes and blurted out the story as quickly as he could. Being spanked would have been preferable to confessing to his mother that her son was so obsessed with a boy he liked that he had been doing nothing for weeks but trying to find out a way to get together with him while his cock stood straight at attention proving every word of his confession was true.

“...and then Carrie spit at me and walked away, and I just knew I had to go to the mall and get started as soon as possible so she wouldn't get away with this. I would have waited to ask you or saved up money on my own but school is ending and I'm almost out of time. I promise I won't buy any more clothes until I pay you back. I'll give you every cent I make.”

Alexis shook her head at her son. “Your boy troubles are no excuse to spend my money without permission, Adriana.”

“Yes, Mother”, the humiliated sissy replied.

“So I will be taking your slutty new clothes from you until you pay me back!” she announced.

He gasped and whined, “BUT MOMMMM, I need them! I need them! That bitch Carrie is going to laugh at me!”

He continued his tantrum and flung his arms around and whined and stamped his high heeled feet which is of course how he tripped on the panties still around his ankles and ended up falling right back onto his mothers lap. She resumed the spanking until he stopped the tantrum.

“What I say goes, you little brat. You know I don't approve of having my son act like a girl but I certainly won't have him acting like a slut on my dime. If you want to debase yourself like that for some boy, you won't have my help. Now, a client I talked to the other day mentioned she needs a maid a few days a week to do some house cleaning over the summer. Any days you aren't babysitting you can do that.”

Adriana started to whine again, “Mommmm, I don't want to be a maid. I like babysitting, let me just do that instead....”

Another spank cut short the complaints. “If you can decide to spend my money, I can decide that I don't want to wait on you to pay me back. You can quit the maid job when that's done.”

“Yes, mother.”

“I hope this little reminder won't have to be repeated, Adriana.”

She let him up and sent him to his room to retrieve his purchases to turn over to her. He went to bed early that night in his Beauty and the Beast pajamas with his doll Ruthie clutched in his arms, crying himself to sleep.

Aileen confronted her mother. “You're the one who wanted him to stay involved with that asshole Tom, aren't you? Well, this is the only way. He really is more interested in Carrie.”

Alexis laughed at her daughter. “Oh, of course dear. I just couldn't resist having some fun with him. Sneak out one of the outfits you bought and pretend like you put one over on me, it won't take more than that to get Tom interested again.”

Adriana woke up with a quiet nudge from his sister. She whispered to him. “Don't worry, I took your favorite outfit from the bags before you gave them back to Mom. Just dress like normal tomorrow and you can change at Nina's house.”

Adriana gave his sister a tight hug. “Oh! Thank you so much Leeny! You're the best!”

She pulled Ruthie from his grasp and set the Bratz doll down by his alarm clock so it would be the first thing he would see in the morning. “Remember who your role model is now. Now go back to bed and get your beauty sleep!”

He floated away into a deep sleep, into the happy pink clouds of pleasant dreams that greeted him every night since he had stopped living the lie and began embracing his new, true self.

Adriana sighed as he awoke, the pink clouds he had been resting on in his dream floated away. The first thing he saw was Yasmin, the Bratz doll. He smiled. Today would be the day. At breakfast he and Aileen exchanged conspiratorial glances and smirks. Adriana was worried his mother would be suspicious so he whined some more about not being able to wear his new clothes. “It's not fair. It's not like you're returning them. They're just sitting there going to waste.”

Alexis shook her head at him, “I thought I made myself clear last night. You can have them when you pay for them. I don't need to remind you again, do I?”

He turned red at the threat and put on a feigned pout of annoyance. He had pushed her enough to let her know he was upset about the clothes. Brother and sister left for school early and stopped off at Nina's house to change him into his sexy outfit before they got to school. They were short on time so the two girls rushed to help him with his makeup and hair.

Adriana sat at the center of the chaos and was slowly getting nervous and worried as he held the Bratz doll in his hands. He had attempted to go back for Ruthie on the way out the door but Aileen wouldn't let him.

“This isn't going to work...why are we doing this?” he squeaked as they worked.

“Keep quiet and sit still, Ade. We're almost done.” Nina admonished him. “You're going to look great, don't worry.”

When they were finished dressing him he squirmed nervously in front of the mirror. He wore black, open toed high heeled sandals that showed off his pink painted toenails. “Ohh, I'm going to fall again and look like an idiot Leeny.”

“No you won't Ade, just concentrate and remember to focus on your balance.” his sister reassured him.

He nervously ran his hands up his bear legs to the extremely short denim shorts he wore. “They're too tight...and I don't like the thong. It feels weird.”

Nina smiled at him, “Adriana, of course they're tight, they make your ass look great. You'll get used to thongs too.”

He fingered the belly button ring that proclaimed him a diva and frowned at his pink nails and the glittery rings and bracelets he wore. “Mom was right, this thing is tacky and these nails are useless. What if I break one? I'll look stupid.”

The two girls sighed at the sissy and Aileen took her turn to encourage him. “You won't break a nail Ade, and just find one of us if you do and we can figure something out. I think the belly button ring is totally hot.”

He pulled down on the black crop top with the big pink glittery heart. “Couldn't I at least where a top that will cover up my belly, I don't like it...I'm not a 'diva'”.

“There's nothing wrong with being a diva. Do you even know what it means?” Nina asked him.

“It means being a spoiled, narcissist, bully like that bitch Carrie. Or a singer, I guess, but I'm no singer obviously.”

Nina replied, “It's the Italian word for a goddess, Adriana. One of the Roman divas was a goddess named Venus. She was a goddess of love, sex, beauty and conquest....sexual or military.”

“Sex and War?” Aileen asked, “What a strange combination...”

Adriana's nervousness began to recede. “No...it makes perfect sense...”

Aileen could see something had changed in him, a light bulb had flashed on in his head but she wasn't quite sure what it meant.

Adriana admired the feel of the soft black feather boa draped on his shoulders. He admired his full, round pink lips and the rest of his slutty makeup. He primped at his big poufy hair. He giggled, “At least it's not over my eye anymore, I can see a lot better.”

“And do you like what you see?” Nina asked.

He took another glance in the mirror. He let go of his doubts and admired the look they had created for him. “Yes.” he replied.

“Do you know what your name means, Adriana?” Nina asked.

He shook his head.

“It's a feminine form of the name Adrian, which derived from the Roman name Hadrian. Hadrian was one of the greatest emperors of Rome. He was a respected military leader...but also a poet, an artist, and an architect. People are complex, Adriana, just because you dress like a girl or a slut doesn't mean you aren't a strong person. You can be a seductress...or a conqueror...or an artist...or all three.”

He nodded.

Aileen looked at her watch, “I think he's ready, we better go now or we're going to be late.”

Nina was still appraising Adriana. “No, one thing isn't quite right, you go ahead Aileen we'll be right down.”

She waited for Adriana's sister to leave them alone.

“I don't get it,” asked Adriana, “what isn't right? I like the whole outfit...I was just nervous, I've never done anything like this before...”

“I know Adriana, the outfit is fine. We just need to get you in the right state of mind.” she told him.

She went to her computer and opened a set of pictures. Adriana recognized them immediately. “Where did you get those?” he demanded angrily.

“He posted them online, Adriana, sorry, but there's no putting the genie back in the bottle. You shouldn't let guys take advantage of you like that.”

He fumed but he knew she was right. His own stupid lust had kept him from running away that day in the park, and here he was dressing up like a slut for the same boy all over again.

“I hope you aren't trying to convince me not to do this, Nina. I still want him.” Adriana responded.

“I know, Adriana. That's why I'm showing you. If you're going to dress like slut you should try and feel like one too. Remember this one?” she asked.

The image showed him kneeling on the ground in nothing but his white bra and panties, his yellow high heels, and his jewelry. He was looking up admiringly at the crotch of the handsome Tom. He started to breath heavily and his face went flush. He licked his lips and felt a stirring in his crotch. She cycled through all the photos, ending with the shots of Adriana lying across Tom's lap being spanked and teased.

Nina liked what she was now seeing in him. He wasn't acting, he was full of sexual energy and desperate to find the relief he craved. He looked wanton and ready and Tom would be able to see it. Everything about the sissy screamed he was a slut in heat. She walked up to him and stroked his crotch with her hand. “Looks like I finally managed to get you hard.” She giggled at him.

He grimaced in disgust at her touch and moved her hand away. She had broken his lustful trance but now his motivations were fresh in his mind again. She was bemused at how quickly her touch had made him go soft. He was really the gayest boy on the planet. “Remember, you're the one in control, you aren't throwing yourself at him. That's the most important thing!”
“I understand. Thanks Nina.” Adriana told her.

Aileen yelled from downstairs, “Let's go guys, now or never!”

Nina pulled the sissy out of the bedroom, “We should probably go, I can't think of any other Roman history lessons for you aside from emperor Elagabalus...and I don't think you would like that story...”

“Ela...?...whatever Nina, let's just go...” he followed quickly behind her.

It was another strange walk in to school for him. His classmates had seen him become stranger and stranger over the past months to the point where most people just ignored him but showing up in an outfit so sexy most of the girls would not be allowed to leave the house in it got them talking again. Adriana looked for Tom between classes but never seemed to run into him. At lunch he ran into Bill who just shook his head at him.

“You'll do anything for that asshole, won't you? Don't you have any self-respect?” he asked icily.

Adriana pouted at him, “You're just jealous. I don't think you were ever my friend anyway! You just want to get in my pants just like him. At least he doesn't try to hide what an asshole he is!”

Bill looked hurt, but as far as Adriana was concerned it was exactly what he deserved. Adriana stormed off, but he couldn't help but notice Bill didn't seem quite so scrawny anymore. It was probably just that Adriana was losing more and more weight and muscle mass every day himself he figured. He never would have believed he could live on as little food as he ate now and that jogging with Aileen could be so fun.

It finally happened after the last class of the day. He had just freshened up his makeup so he knew he looked perfect when he saw Tom down the hall. Aileen, Nina, and Bill were watching together from a discrete distance.

Adriana felt himself enter a sexually charged trance again like he had that morning when Nina showed him the pictures, but not quite the same. He felt the sexual energy flow through him but didn't let it overwhelm him. He walked towards Tom with perfect balance even on his high heels, his hips swaying back and forth accentuating his sexy behind. Aileen and Nina smiled at his new found grace and confidence.

Adriana saw Carrie, that bitch, further down the hall talking to some of her friends. She hadn't seen what was happening yet. “Good” Adriana thought, “by the time that stupid skank realizes it will be over and done with.”

Time seemed to slow down for Adriana, all of his stress seemed to float away. His craving for Tom was about to be fulfilled, and nothing would stop it, that was almost as good as having him already. He thought about what Nina had said about Venus. About a goddess of war and love. “Time to go in for the kill.” he thought.

Tom had been starring open mouthed at Adriana as he approached. He had always had a thing for the sissy even if he would rather date girls, but it had been enough for him just to tease the sissy and play games with him. It was clear Adriana wasn't playing games anymore. He was like one of Tom's wet dreams come to life. A slutty, sexy, perfect girly boy. It was like Adriana had read his mind and his fantasies. Adriana stopped directly in front of him with one hand on his hip and the other absentmindedly playing with his black feather boa.

“Hi Tom, what's up?” he asked casually, as if he barely cared about the answer, as if this moment hadn't been weeks in the planning and Tom hadn't been the center of all his obsessions.

Tom moved closer and Adriana stopped playing with his boa and gave him his full attention.

“Oh Hi, Adriana. We should hang out, you doing anything later?” he asked casually.

Tom put his hand around Adriana's waist. Adriana saw Carrie had now noticed what was going on and looked like she was about to explode. She started to rush towards them.

“Who me? I heard you had plans with Carrie tonight.” Adriana asked with feigned innocence.

Tom smiled at Adriana, “That slut? Oh no, she's crazy. Don't listen to her, she lies all the time, you know I like you. I can't imagine why we aren't going out already.”

Carrie stopped, broke out into a massive crying fit and ran off. Tom turned in shock. He had been hoping to have both of them. Adriana had made sure that wouldn't be the case. Tom was ambivalent. Carrie would come crawling back. He had done worse than that to Adriana and the sissy was still begging for his attention. He felt like a god. Women or boys, nobody could resist him.

Adriana smiled at him. “Okay Tommy, that bitch is gone. Kiss me?” he asked innocently.

Tom was more than happy to oblige. They were locking tongues in an instant. Nina and Aileen cheered and wolf whistled. Bill stalked away angrily. Carrie was probably off crying in the bathroom.

Tom held Adriana tightly and both of them flashed back to their make-out session in his car. Adriana felt incredible and high and felt himself riding the wave of lust that threatened to carry him away and make him a slave to Tom like he had been before. He remembered what Nina had said about staying in control.

Tom was about to slide his hand onto the sissy's ass like he had done before, he knew that drove Adriana wild, but before he had a chance Adriana had done it to him and was squeezing his muscled behind with both his hands. Tom bit at Adriana's lip, but Adriana bit back harder. He gasped in pain. He knew what was happening, the sissy was taking the lead. The slutty outfit and attitude was changing their dynamic. The sweet, innocent, shy, good “girl” he had pulled over his lap and spanked seemed like a completely different person now.

Every time he tried to make a move Adriana read his mind and was a step ahead. Adriana nibbled his ear and scratched at him painfully with his nails. The sissy in his arms felt warm and soft and unbelievably sexy and smelled like flowers and spice. Stopping was not an option. He wanted to fuck him right now, right there in the hall. He wanted to tear down those short shorts and tie his hands with the feather boa. He wanted to rip off those panties and jam his cock into that ass while the sissy screamed and begged for more...but he couldn't, he wasn't in control here.

Adriana sensed what was happening too. It was exactly what he had hoped for. He felt Tom struggling with it but knew he had given up his upper hand. Adriana was almost ready for his grand finale, but first Adriana had to cum. He didn't think Tom would be as enthusiastic about Adriana after all this so this might be his only chance. Even as he tamed and controlled his lust he knew he could not avoid feeding it entirely. He began grinding on Tom's leg as they made out.

Tom wanted to make the sissy stop grinding. He was always the one who wanted to cum first, to control his partner, to decide when they have the privilege to cum. Adriana was using him. Tom couldn't make him stop though, it was just too sexy. Tom's own cock was hard as stone and he felt Adriana's hand slide down his pants, bringing him close to exploding. Suddenly Adriana stopped grinding and kissing and biting, a look of pure bliss shown on his face. Tom would never forget the feeling of holding the orgasmic, hot and flush, sexy sissy slut in his arms. Even as he struggled with the frustration that he had been so close to release when Adriana had stopped he couldn't help but appreciate the perfect moment. The sissy who had walked up to him like something out of a wet dream would live on as a wet dream for Tom for the rest of his life, and what happened next would be one of the nightmares that ended the dream and woke him up.

Adriana smiled up at him sweetly. “You called me a bitch and pushed me over in the lunch room and ignored me and humiliated me with those photos.”

Before he could make his apology the sissy kneed him in the balls as hard as he could and stepped back away from him. He felt the most intense pain of his life, blinding light overcame him. He screamed. Adriana kicked him in the same place as hard as he could with his high heeled shoes. Tom collapsed to the ground and shouted in agony. Adriana walked away back towards his friend Nina and his sister Aileen, maintaining the same confident, slutty walk he had used before.

“So, how did I do?” he asked.

“Perfect!” Nina squealed, “I knew you had it in you!” The two friends hugged.

Aileen finally recovered from her shock, “Ummm, not exactly what I had in mind, Ade...but if it means you're done with him, I'm all for it.”

After school he changed back into his regular clothes before his babysitting appointment and sat on his bed hugging Ruthie to his chest with his left arm. He had missed her horribly. With his right hand he held the Bratz doll. Aileen found him like that, with a tear running down his cheek. She knew what to do and sat beside him and held his hand.

“What's wrong, Ade? I thought you got what you wanted...” Aileen asked in confusion.

Adriana responded quietly, “I hurt him Leeny, really bad. I...I don't want to be like that anymore. I didn't have to do that.”

“You feel bad about it?” she asked.

He nodded.

Aileen responded with sympathy, “Then you aren't like you used to be. You just stuck up for yourself, he deserved it. He's a bully and he never liked you the way you liked him...”

“Liked?” Adriana started to cry harder.

“Oh no...Ade...no....you don't still...?” she asked in confusion.

“I still want him...” he sobbed. “...he makes me feel so good. I...I came in my panties when we were making out....and he held me...and I just wanted to melt away into his arms forever it felt so good. I know it's empty. I know it's a lie. I know it isn't worth it. In the end he'll hurt me more than he makes me feel good...but...I can't help myself. I still want him, Leeny....”

Aileen kept trying to make her brother feel better, “You'll get over it, Ade. Just stay away and give it time. He won't want to see you anymore anyway.”

Adriana sobbed again.

“Use your brain Ade, not your heart. All you have to do is stay away. Take on more babysitting, do that maid job Mom found for you. Don't think about him. Just stay away.”

He nodded. “I'll try, Leeny.”

Tom didn't show up at school for the last few days of the year. Adriana struggled every day not to think about him. He did what his sister suggested and tried to focus on working and having fun over the summer and not obsessing about his crush. Instead, he started raiding his mother's collection of trashy romance novels. Over the next few weeks he finished a new one nearly every day. He tried to lose himself in those fantasy worlds of strong, romantic, perfect, sensitive men and forget about his obsession with that bastard Tom.

On one of those early summer days, only a few weeks after the end of the school year, he sat on a blanket at the town's public pool lost in one of his romance books. He wore short shorts and a pink tank top. He had gotten used to showing off his legs but the top at least covered his belly. He had returned to his wild, emo haircut but made sure it wouldn't block his vision anymore. To make up for the lack of the dramatic comb over his eye he had added striking pink and purple highlights.

Every page or so he would look up from the book and keep an eye on Julia as she swam, his first and favorite little babysitting charge. For Adriana, this was the life. Babysitting was easy and fun for him and when he was reading a book instead of helping with homework it hardly felt like work at all. He sighed with pleasure and enjoyed the warm summer sun. A shadow blocked his light as he read and he looked up.

“Hi Adriana.” Bill said.

Adriana gasped. He was wearing a baggy suit but his bulge was still evident. He was toned and muscular and lean. He looked like an athlete. His hair was wet and water was dripping down his body. If not for his familiar friendly smile, Adriana might have thought he was a different person entirely from the scrawny loser Rocco used to harass.

“Hi Billy...” he replied shyly, with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

Adriana blushed even harder and tossed the romance novel aside. “Oh...nothing...it's boring...ummm, will you sit with me?”

Bill smiled. He could tell Adriana's opinion of him was starting to change. He felt a little bit bitter, he knew it was purely his new chiseled body that was finally getting Adriana's attention, but he knew Adriana wasn't totally shallow. “If he would just give me a chance...” he thought. He sat down beside Adriana nervously while on the outside maintaining the cool, confident act.

“I like your hair.” he told Adriana.

Adriana smiled. He had butterflies in his stomach and he felt lightheaded as if he was a little tipsy. “Thanks, now that I'm not half blind I hope I don't fall over as much.” He giggled.

“I think it's cute when you trip.” he replied.

Adriana blushed. “Well, I'm still a klutz on heels.”

“So why do you wear them all the time?” he asked.

“I...just think they're so cute...” he replied with a giggle.

Bill admired the white high heeled sandals Adriana was wearing. “On you, anything looks cute...I heard what you did to Tom. I wish I had stayed to watch but...” He realized he was just bringing attention to his own jealousy, he had left during the make-out session, unable to watch the boy he loved with someone else any longer.

Adriana looked away. “I'm not proud of it, Billy. I don't like hurting people, it was stupid. That isn't who I am anymore.”

Bill stayed silent. He remembered who Rocco used to be better than anyone but Aileen and Alexis. It was a miracle they had stood by him long enough for him to reform himself. Maybe they saw some of Adriana in him nobody else did and knew why he was always acting out. “I know, Adriana. I'm just glad you aren't letting him push you around. I...it took me too long to realize you have to stand up for yourself. Until I saw you standing up for me even when you were a total sissy wimp yourself, no offense, I didn't think there was any hope for someone like me.”

Adriana smiled and ran his hand over Bill's muscled arms. “I don't think you need me to help you anymore.”

Bill turned and kissed Adriana right on the lips. It was a brief kiss, no tongue...no grabbing and biting like Adriana did with Tom...just a quick peck...and the two boys stared into each others eyes in shock and awe.

They heard a giggle and Adriana turned to see Julia watching them. Adriana blushed and and moved away from Bill on the blanket.

“Julia...this is Bill...he's a friend of mine from school...” the flustered sissy explained.

“Adey and Billy sitting in a tree...K-I-S-S-I-N-G...” she sang in a childish sing-song voice.

Adriana rolled his eyes. Bill stood up, rubbed Julia's head playfully and walked away. Julia sat down next to her babysitter and giggled. Adriana was ignoring her and watching Bill lustfully from behind as he walked away.

Adriana didn't usually remember his dreams, though he knew they were always pleasant, he just had a vague sense of floating all night on those happy pink clouds. That night it was different. He was wearing an old fashioned flowing yellow dress. He was on the deck of a ship and Bill was a rugged pirate captain who had kidnapped him. Bill was shirtless and his hair was blowing in the wind, sweat and seawater dripped down his chest. He grabbed Adriana and carried him down to his cabin. The dark cabin was lit by the most beautiful candles Adriana had ever seen.

Bill dropped him on the bed and kissed him. He ripped open the bodice of Adriana's dress and Adriana gasped and blushed...it became hazy after that, but when Adriana woke up he felt the wet, sticky front of his panties and moaned with lust at the memory of his dream. He remembered the kisses, and sensed a lingering saltiness on his lips. He pulled the sheets off himself and looked down at the stain.

He reached into his panties and felt the warm stickyness, he raised a finger to his mouth and tasted. “Mmmmmmm...” he moaned. Suddenly the door open and Aileen popped her head in, Adriana quickly covered himself again and blushed. Aileen just looked at him in confusion.

“It's late, why aren't you up already?” she asked.

Adriana ignored the question and replied dreamily. “I think I'm in love, Leeny.” he sighed.

Aileen frowned at her brother. “Tom again? You were doing so well...”

“Billy.” Adriana replied and leaned back on his pillow with a happy smile. “I saw him at the pool, he was so hot. Like a model. And he was so nice...”

Aileen squealed. “Yes! Finally! He's the perfect boyfriend for you, Ade! Should I tell Mom or should you? Ohh! I'll tell her! I can't wait! Get up already!”

His sister left the room and Adriana got up and started getting ready for his day. He couldn't wait to see Bill again. Unfortunately for Adriana, he may have moved on from Tom but Tom was not yet done with him.

It happened a week later. Adriana was babysitting one of his favorite clients, a six year old boy named Danny. Adriana was dressed comfortably in black yoga pants and a white tee with a rainbow design on the chest. He wore black high heeled sandals.

Danny had been one of the first clients he had picked up after Julia and they got along very well. Danny was a shy, sensitive kid and Adriana just thought he was the sweetest little boy he had ever met. His parents were very strict about the rules, but Adriana was professional enough that enforcing the parent's rules was always his top priority. Rule number one for babysitter's at this house was “No Boyfriends Allowed.” This was the worst place for Tom to show up, but he did.

Adriana had avoided going anywhere near him since their last meeting at school. Tom showed up at his house a few times but Adriana hid inside while Aileen yelled through the door that she would call the cops if he didn't go away. Adriana had to change his cell phone number too because Tom kept calling. He never listened to any of the messages. He had to go cold turkey.

Adriana wasn't sure how he had found him at Danny's house, it could have been from some other girls who knew where he babysat was or he could have been followed. It didn't matter, the only important thing was to get him to go away.

Tom banged on the door furiously. “Adriana! Get out here, bitch!”

Adriana recognized the voice immediately. Danny was looking up at him in confused fright.

“Go to your room, Danny.” he told him.

“What's wrong?” he asked, looking about ready to cry.

There was more banging at the door.

“He's just an ex-friend of mine. I don't want to see him anymore and he doesn't like it. Go to your room right now. I won't say it again!”

Danny complied, or he seemed to. He actually hid by the top of the steps. Adriana was too scared to notice. Adriana nervously walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Tom looked furious. He banged on the door again.

“I know your watching me Adriana. I can smell you.” he yelled.

Adriana shuddered in fear and disgust while at the same time his head spun as his dormant attraction to the dominant boy resurfaced. Adriana struggled to press it back down.

“Open up, bitch, or I'm kicking the door in. Try and explain that to this twerp's parents.” he threatened.

Adriana meekly responded, “Go away. Or I'm calling the police.”

“No you won't.” he replied, “if his parents find out I was here you know what will happen. Let me in, I just want to talk.”

Adriana panicked, there was no other explanation for it. He was too afraid of getting in trouble that he made an incredibly stupid decision. He opened the door. Tom barreled in and punched him hard right in the eye and Adriana screamed. Tom grabbed him by the hair and threw him down on the couch and pinned him. He jammed his tongue into Adriana's mouth. Adriana bit his lip hard and drew blood and he backed off with a hiss, and then slapped Adriana across the face. Adriana cowered under him and cried.

He ranted at Adriana, “I could forgive you for acting up and kicking my balls, I like feisty bitches, you little whore, but now I hear you're making out with that other faggot Bill at the pool? I don't think so. You're my bitch. Stay away from him or I'll kick his ass too. And maybe that sister of yours too, you think she would like the backseat of my car as much as you did?”

They heard a small voice from across the room. “Leave her alone or I'm calling the police.” Danny had the phone in his hand and there were tears running down his face. Danny was always a bit confused about Adriana, no matter how many times he was told Adriana wasn't a girl he kept calling him a her. He was a little too young to understand what Adriana was. Adriana usually found it cute and had stopped correcting him, but right now she was too preoccupied with keeping Danny safe to think about all that.

“It's okay Danny, I told you to stay in your room, we're just playing...” Adriana tried to stop crying, but he wasn't fooling Danny. He started to dial.

“Shit.” Tom said as he got up to leave, “You understand me, cunt?”

Adriana nodded. He had to stay away from Bill. Or else.

Danny put down the phone as Tom ran off. Unfortunately for Adriana, his parents came home and saw the boy running from the house.

They were furious. “We told YOU! You aren't allowed to have your boyfriends over here, we don't even let the girls do it much less someone like YOU.”

Adriana was too flustered to explain himself. They fired him. He kept crying as he gave Danny a final hug and said goodbye. He looked Danny right in the eye. “Thank you Danny, you were very brave, you did the right thing.”

“Don't go...” he begged.

Adriana didn't want to, but he had no choice. He could hear Danny complaining as he left. “It wasn't her fault! She's my favorite babysitter, I don't want a new one!” he whined. His parents were having none of it. The only consolation for Adriana was that he knew they would turn to Nina for babysitting instead. Danny would like her too.

By the time he got home his eye and cheeks were starting to swell. Aileen was in a panic. He explained Tom had slapped him around again and she was furious. She told him to call the police and explain. Adriana refused. His sister just didn't understand how humiliating it would be to tell the police his boyfriend beat him up, and if he crossed Tom again it would be Bill and Aileen and anyone else he loved who might be in the line of fire.

Despite what he had said at the pool, he did think he still needed to protect Bill. He was still the scrawny little kid in Adriana's mind. As for Aileen, Rocco had already hurt her enough, she didn't deserve to have a new bully in her life.

He spent the rest of the week hiding in his house, waiting for his black eye to go away. Aileen kept trying to cheer him up but there wasn't anything she could do. Adriana just stayed in his room with Ruthie by his side, reading romance novels and hiding from the world. On Friday he was near recovered and the remaining bruising could be covered with makeup. He was going to start his job as a maid over the weekend. At first he thought it might help him, just give him some hard work to occupy his time instead of moping around in his room all day. He wasn't so sure once his mother showed him the uniform he would wear.

When she brought him to her room and showed him the outfit his face turned red and he stamped his foot in frustration. “Mother, it's ridiculous. I can't work in that. Why did you do this?”

He made sure not to say he wouldn't wear it. He could see his “little reminder” was near at hand and Alexis glanced over at it meaningfully. If she decided he would wear it, he was going to wear it.

“Isn't it lovely, Adriana? Well, I had it custom made just for you. Isn't it obvious why? You're only doing this job because you wanted to dress like a slut, so I decided to treat you by letting you dress like a slutty sissy maid! It was easy to find slutty maid outfits for women, even in male sizes, but I know you don't want to wear skirts like a girl so I had to have something totally unique done up for you.”

Adriana shook his head in disbelief, “But it must have been so expensive...”

Alexis smiled at him. “Not a problem.”

Adriana groaned. “You're adding it to my bill?”

“Of course! You're the one who needs it after all!” she cheerfully replied.

The uniform consisted of short black pettipants with ruffles down the leg and a white bow at each hem, a crisp white short sleeves blouse with a prissy, feminine bow tie, and of course a frilly but functional white apron. There were white anklets and new black shoes with a modest heel so he could move around and work without losing his notoriously bad balance. To top it off there was a black maid's cap with white lace accents.

Alexis ordered him to try it on and he consented. In the mirror he could see one humiliated boy. The outfit was sexy, and actually comfortable enough that he could see himself working in it, but it was just so humiliating. He was used to wearing feminine clothing but to be dressed as a sexy male maid just made him feel so degraded and inferior.

His mother told him to clean the house to get used to his new uniform. When he was doing his sister's room she tried to send him away but Alexis insisted. Aileen started chatting with him instead to help pass the time. He mostly spent it moping and complaining so she tried to make him feel better.

“You do really look sexy, Ade. You should wear it for a boy sometime.” she giggled.

Adriana blushed but he knew it was true, “I don't care. That's different. Just because I wanted to impress one boy doesn't mean I want to dress like a slut all the time. This is working not having fun, even if I have to be a maid can't I keep my dignity?”

Aileen giggled, she couldn't help herself. “I'm not sure what a male maid could wear to keep their dignity. At least you aren't wearing a dress or a skirt.”

Adriana glared at her but kept cleaning her room. She was right, after all.

The next day he nervously knocked on the door of the house his mother had sent him to. It was a large, impressive looking house. He would obviously have plenty of work to do. A well dressed, regal looking woman opened the door and looked him over with a smirk.

“Are you Mrs. McKinney?” he asked.

“So you must be my new maid?” she replied.

“Umm, yes, my mother sent me. I'm Adriana.” he replied.

“Yes, Ma'am!” she corrected.

“Umm, Yes, Ma'am.” he replied sheepishly.

She gestured for him to enter and began explaining his duties. He would be responsible for cleaning the house and helping to serve meals. She wasn't very formal about it beyond making sure he addressed her with proper respect. He wouldn't have to curtsy to her and learn some complex set of protocol, just keep the house clean and help her out running the household. He actually started to think it wouldn't be such a bad job.

“I like your uniform, Adriana.” she told him.

“Umm, Yes, Ma'am, my mother had it made for me.” he replied.

She smiled at him, “Oh, you like it too? I'm glad, I was going to suggest you wear something more practical but you should stick with that if you like it. I insist. Just be careful not to get it too messy, you have to be presentable if we have guests over. Besides, I'm sure my son will love you in it...”

Adriana frowned, he had walked right into that. And a son? How would he react to having such a swish hanging around his house? Wait, did she say the son would like him in it...? She saw the moment of confusion on his face. “Oh yes, he likes both boys and girls. You kids today.” She shook her head at him.

“Back in my day there was none of this gay and bisexual nonsense. At least not out in the open.” she gestured vaguely at him obviously including his sissyness in that nonsense, “but he's my son and I love him, he can do what he wants. Ahh, here he comes now...”

A bisexual son...Adriana's mind started to race. Wait, had he seen a red mustang parked on the street...?

He started to back away in fright before Mrs. McKinney's son even turned the corner, but he had nowhere to go. Tom and Adriana locked eyes. Tom was surprised at first and his hand started to move defensively to his crotch before he controlled the reflex. He quickly started to smirk and then smile at the new maid.

Adriana's cheeks turned bright red and he trembled in humiliation and fear. Of all the people in the world he would want to show himself off for in his sexy male maid outfit, Tom was the last. Even so, blood rushed to his crotch and warmth spread all over his body. The uncontrollable desire for the boy was clawing at Adriana's mind.

Mrs. McKinney watched the two boys and could sense some of the fireworks going off in their heads. “So, you two know each other already?”

“Yeah Mom, we met at school.” Tom said.

She frowned at her son. “This isn't the one that assaulted you is it? My poor baby.” She glared angrily at Adriana who was still fidgeting in fear and trying to keep his feelings under control.

“It was just a misunderstanding Mom, he was jealous of Carrie. Their little catfight over me got out of hand. Adriana is truly sorry now though, right?”

Adriana nodded mutely and stared at the floor as they discussed him.

Mrs. McKinney went on, “I did like that girl so much. What ever happened to her? You shouldn't hold what this jealous little sissy did to you against Carrie. You should get back together. You know I prefer it when you date girls.”

Tom rolled his eyes at his mother. “I know, Mom, but I can't help who I like. You're right though, I should give Carrie a call.”

Adriana looked up and a flash of jealousy crossed his face before he could control it. Tom saw it clearly and his smile grew. Adriana tried to save some face in front of his new boss, “Umm, Yes Ma'am. I won't get in the way of them again. It was childish of me to be jealous just because Tom doesn't like me like I like him.”

Mrs. McKinney nodded approvingly. “Good, now let's get to work. I'm going to make sure you work extra hard to make up for what you did to my son. How could a girly-boy like you be so violent? It's very unladylike you know. Maybe working as a maid will help you learn how to behave more femininely...”

As his mother led Adriana away Tom's smirk faded and was replaced with pure, malevolent anger. He had the bitch right under his nose, and he was going to make sure Adriana paid for what he had done.

Adriana did his best to put on a brave face for his family, Tom's threats to Aileen were still fresh in his mind. He tried every excuse he could think of to get his mother to let him quit the job, but she wouldn't budge.

The weeks went by in misery. Mrs. McKinney and her husband weren't that bad to work for, but when they were away Tom would have Adriana all to himself. Adriana would be at work on some chore, dusting or mopping or sweeping or polishing, the list went on and on and on, and Tom would corner him and continue his obsessive abuse.

Adriana was kneeling on the floor trying to get a stain out of the carpet, his ass in the air and jiggling up and down as he scrubbed. He could feel Tom behind him. He had been there for quite some time, standing silently and watching. Adriana could feel his eyes burning into him.

Exhausted, he stopped scrubbing at the stain for a brief rest.

“We aren't paying you to sit around, bitch.” he heard.

“Yes, sir.” Adriana started scrubbing vigorously again.

“Do you like cleaning off stains, bitch?” he emphasized the word bitch every time he said it, remembering how Adriana had complained about it when the sissy thought he had the upper hand on him.

Adriana stopped scrubbing and meekly replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” he replied.

Adriana could sense him coming up closer behind him.

“Get up and turn around.” he ordered.

Adriana turned and stood and faced him for the first time. His large erect cock was hanging out of his pants. Adriana tried to look away but his uncontrollable urges wouldn't let him. His face was blushing crimson and his hands were locked in a deathgrip on his apron to keep himself from reaching out to embrace the boy he hated so much. His own cock tented the panties and pettipants that restrained it.

Tom stepped closer and pulled Adriana against him and and kissed the sissy, shoving his tongue down his throat while Adriana tried to squirm away. His exposed cock rubbed against Adriana's smooth, silky apron and he groaned in pleasure at the feeling.

He pulled away from the kiss and turned Adriana around forcefully. He untied the apron slowly, soaking in the fear of his trembling, unwilling partner. Adriana turned back around, the apron now hanging loosely. Tom wrapped his cock in the material and moved Adriana's hand to it.

“I'm going to make a stain on your apron, bitch. No worries though, you can clean it up later. Start stroking.” he ordered.

Adriana did as he was told while Tom reached behind to fondle him on his ass, enjoying the feel of the ruffled pettipants on his hand and the warmth from Adriana's hot ass below them. Adriana tried his best to do what he was told mechanically and without passion, but his body was betraying him. He started to stroke with more purpose and push back to feel the hand on his ass. His knees started to go weak.

Through moans of pleasure Tom spoke, “See how much you love me, bitch? See how stupid you were to try and fight me? Now, massage my balls with your other hand...gently.” He emphasized the last word. Tom reached under Adriana's chin and and made the sissy look up from his chore to look him right in the eye.

“Don't you think you owe me an apology, bitch?” he asked.

Adriana felt the two balls he gently and obediently held in his hands while he whispered, “I'm sorry.”

“Good.” he replied, and kissed Adriana on the cheek. “Now finish the job.”

There was no more talking. Adriana stroked and stroked until her arms were tired until Tom finally came with a loud yell. He slapped Adriana's hand away and gently started massaging his own cock with the apron while he enjoyed the afterglow of the handjob. When he was satisfied he dropped the apron from his grip and turned Adriana back around. He rubbed his now flacid, sensitive cock against Adriana's ass and enjoyed the sensations. He bit and sucked at Adriana's neck while the sissy continued to tremble in lust and fear.

He backed off and began to re-tie Adriana's apron. Adriana looked down at it and saw a total mess. There was a huge, messy, wet, dripping cumstain. In total humiliation he looked up at Tom. “Shouldn't I...clean it now sir?”

“Why? It's just cum. You can get it out later.” he said in a relaxed tone.

Adriana hated wearing it. “Well, shouldn't I take it off so I don't drip on anythi...”

He interrupted. “No. I like you in an apron, especially one covered in my cum. It looks cute on you, and it reminds you that you're supposed to be a submissive little servant who always does as he is told. Doesn't it?”

Adriana sniffled, almost on the verge of tears his humiliation was so deep, “Yes, sir.”

“Don't cry,” Tom told him with mock sincerity, “just get back to work, you stupid fucking bitch.”

Adriana instantly did cry like a little girl scolded by a parent, but in frustration he turned back around, knelt on the ground, and resumed his scrubbing. Tom circled around him and watched. His arms kept brushing up against the stain again and again feeling the slimy warmth of Tom's cum which just made him cry more.

“I said no crying.” Tom reminded him. “You know you loved every second, bitch. Do you want me to give you a reason to cry?” he asked menacingly.

Adriana still couldn't get his emotions under control. Tom grabbed him and pulled him to his feet and punched him hard in the stomach. Adriana crumpled to the ground with the wind knocked out of him. The world pulsed around him in pain and panic. Tom walked away laughing. Adriana stopped crying. He realized he would be okay. The pain didn't matter, as long as he still hated the asshole. If he stopped hating him, if he gave into the lust his body demanded of him, only then would he truly be lost. He just had to keep hating him.

Adriana returned the next time with a clean apron. Tom would stain it again and again over the next few weeks. Adriana got used to it, but he faced new challenges when Carrie started showing up. She and Tom had started dating again which made Tom's parents happy. They loved her, any girl who could keep their son away from boys was okay in their mind. She took every opportunity to be around the house when Adriana was working. She took great pleasure in ordering him around and having him serve her, always with total politeness.

“Your lunch is served, Ms. Carrie.”

“Let me help you with that, Ms. Carrie.”

“I'll do it right away, Ms. Carrie.”

Despite how irritated she knew Adriana must be, she still knew if she wanted real revenge she would have to do more than just embarrass the boy so she waited patiently until Adriana let his guard down.

Adriana, for his part, was happy to have her around at first. She distracted Tom and if she could truly win his heart Tom would hopefully lose interest in bullying him. With that in mind he was more than happy to help Carrie out when she asked a favor one day.

Adriana was a bit suspicious, but the favor seemed innocent enough. Carrie knew Adriana understood exactly what Tom liked in a girl so she called and asked him to help her prepare for a date one night when he wasn't working.

Adriana dressed casually in denim capris and a wrinkled pink t-shirt. He didn't want to look better than Carrie and make her jealous again. “I could, too, it wouldn't be that hard” he thought with a smirk, but quickly reminded himself why he was doing this.

Carrie greeted him warmly with a hug when she opened the door, squealing her excitement and quickly pulling him inside and up to her room. “Oh Adriana, I'm so glad you agreed to do this and that we're friends now. I don't know why we ever started fighting in the first place.”

Adriana smiled and agreed, quickly putting his doubts aside. He had seen his sister and her friends go back and forth between hating each other and being best friends a million times. He thought that's just the way girls are. He shared with her everything he had learned about how to please Tom. A lot of it was old news to her since it had been based on emulating her in the first place but Adriana explained it in a way that gave her insight on her own appearance she wouldn't get without the outside perspective.

After they had planned out her outfit and makeup for her next date with Tom, Carrie reached into her jewelry box and pulled out an extremely expensive looking set of diamond earrings. Adriana was blown away by how pretty and expensive they looked.

“Oh wow!” he gasped, “Where did you get those?”

She smiled, “They're great, aren't they? My Aunt Betty left them to me after she died. Do you think Tom would like them?”

Adriana didn't hesitate a second, “Of course he would, and even if he didn't how could you hide something so beautiful and elegant?”

Carrie smiled, “I guess you're right. Do you want to try them on?”

Adriana was curious how they would look but he knew he had to be cautious not to make the evening all about himself so he pretended like he didn't care, but Carrie insisted.

“Don't worry, Adriana, we're friends now. You can try them on, and borrow them any time you want. Friends can share things they like.” She handed the earrings to Adriana.

He started to put them on but flinched when she continued slightly more seriously, “Well, we can share SOME things.”

Adriana got the message. She was welcome to him. Carrie gushed over how great the earrings looked on Adriana. She insisted they take a picture together to remember their first night of friendship so they sat together in front of the webcam on her computer while she took the pictures. Adriana felt quite satisfied with the new situation and smiled all the way home. He had succeeded in helping Carrie out and turned her from an enemy into a friend. It was becoming clear to him that friendship really was preferable to fighting all the time, with girls or with boys.

A few days later he was happy to see his new friend and took a break from mopping the floor at the McKinney residence to greet her. “Hi Carrie...I mean Ms. Carrie! How was your date?”

“Are we alone?” she asked.

Adriana figured there were some juicy details she didn't want anyone to overhear. “Yes, Ms. Carrie. The family is out at...”

“Good.” She simply laughed at him. “You stupid slut. You still didn't figure it out?”

Adriana's confusion was plain.

“What do you think Mrs. McKinney would do if she found out her diamond earrings were missing?” Carrie asked.

Adriana gasped and clenched his hands on his apron in rage and despair. He looked at her angrily, “I'll tell her the truth. You took them.”

She laughed hysterically. “And who do you think she and the police will believe, the girlfriend the family loves or...the maid they leave alone at their house all the time?”

He saw his future flash before his eyes. The police would obviously suspect him and when she showed them the pictures...that bitch, they would have all the proof they needed. He couldn't let her give him to the police. He could never survive that. Bad things would happen, horrible things.

He did the only thing he could do, he fell to his knees and begged her. “Please don't do it, please don't do it. I was wrong to ever have crossed you, I'm a stupid slutty bitch. You proved it. I won't cross you ever again!”

He started to become incoherent with panicked tears. “I can't go to jail, they'll do things to me, I won't survive. I know I was wrong to mess with you but...please don't do this. It's too much. Please don't do it, I'll do anything you say. I'll never be jealous of you again just because you are so much more pretty and attractive than I am. Please...”

A satisfied smile crept onto her face. “Okay, I'm glad you understand now. I wouldn't want you to go to jail. It's much more fun to watch you suffer in person. But I think you should have a big reminder not to mess with me anymore, and about what happens if you do.”

Adriana nodded through his relieved crying, “Yes, Ms. Carrie!”

“Okay slut, here's your big reminder.” She handed him a wrapped package.

In a numb state of terror and disbelief he opened the package. It contained a large black cock shaped butt plug with the words, “Adriana's Big Reminder” written on the side in silver lettering.

“Do you like it?” she asked. “I heard your mother has a little reminder for you. I don't think something little would quite get my message across, would it?”

“No, Ms. Carrie.” he squeaked.

“It's almost a favor, isn't it? If I didn't provide such a drastic reminder, you might forget what's at stake, hmm?”

Adriana considered it, and honestly she made a good point.

Carrie continued, “So just a simple addition to your uniform when you're working here, to remind you who your real mistress is. Let's try it on! Bend over the counter, will you?”

Adriana bent over the counter as ordered, wondering how his life always managed to go so horribly wrong. Carrie pulled down his pettipants and panties and kicked his legs further apart.

She leaned forward and whispered harshly in his ear, “Don't ever fuck with me again slut, or this will be a real cock from some guy not half as gentle as I am.”

She rammed the unlubricated plug all the way up his ass in one harsh stroke. He screamed in the worst pain he had ever encountered.

“That's what you get if you fuck with me slut, that's what you get, REMEMBER slut, don't forget this. You can use lube when you do put it in from now on, but REMEMBER.” she screamed.

The pain started to fade over the next few hours as he worked, but he moved slowly and stiffly and in a daze. He didn't forget her message, not that day or any other day when he inserted his big reminder and dressed in his maid's outfit to go to work. It was more important than ever that he remember that he was just the maid. He can't ever make Carrie suspicious that he was after Tom ever again. Over the next few weeks Adriana started to put Tom out of his head more and more.

One day he was babysitting Julia and showing off his now near expert sewing skills by repairing the torn dress on Julia's Kit Kittredge doll while Julia watched TV. He was wearing lavender khaki shorts with a white tee featuring a lavender butterfly design and his white high heeled sandals.

The show on TV was one of those talent shows for kids. Adriana was mostly just treating it as background noise until one particular contestant was introduced. It was a transsexual girl named Cecily St. Claire who actually lived only a few miles from their town. Julia probably would have known her from the local school but the introduction said she was homeschooled.

“Can you believe it's a boy?” Julia asked.

Adriana was amazed. Cecily was astoundingly pretty and feminine. She had flawless long blonde hair and wore a blue and white checkered gingham dress and ruby slippers. She was dressed as Dorothy, but it wasn't her appearance or her costume that blew them away. It was her voice.

When she was introduced she had looked scared and nervous, almost completely overwhelmed, but when the music started all of that went away and her face was a picture of calm and focus. She sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” of course and it was the most beautiful rendition Adriana had ever heard. It was so pure and perfect it was like she had the voice of angel but she still captured the intense longing and sadness of the song. When it was over Adriana realized he was softly crying and Julia was starring at the TV in silence. The crowd erupted in applause and it was clear Cecily would win the competition. Adriana almost felt like he knew Cecily, like he had met her before, but he knew he would have remembered that. He figured he just felt that way because they had similar gender issues and had to make drastic changes in their lives. He wished he had the courage to have realized what was wrong with him as young as Cecily did instead of wasting his life in denial and taking out his anger on the people around him.

A while later he was humming happily to himself while he worked on fixing the doll. He appreciated babysitting even more now that he had such a horrible second job. His head was so up the clouds he hadn't heard the doorbell ring and was shocked when Julia came running into the room excitedly to announce there was someone at the door for him.

Adriana froze in sudden fear remembering the last time he had an unannounced visitor while he was babysitting. He thought of sending Julia out to tell him to go away but instantly realized he couldn't do that. He grabbed his phone and held his finger over the emergency call button and went to the other room to confront his visitor.

What he saw sent his heart beating out of his chest. He dropped the phone and nearly swooned with emotion. Bill was standing at the door holding a dozen roses, a handsome smile on his face. The two boys locked eyes. Adriana gasped and got a hold of himself, “You can't be here, I'll get in trouble. I'm not allowed to see any boys...Tom...”

Bill shushed him and Adriana fell silent, gazing into his eyes. “I'm not here to visit, just to deliver these.” He handed over the flowers and Adriana clutched them to his chest and deeply inhaled the intoxicating scent. He opened the card that was attached and read the simple message. “I love you, Adriana.”

Adriana lunged across the doorway and kissed him, his wonderful manly scent mixing with the perfume of the roses. Adriana had never felt so wonderful in his life, the two boys felt like they were glued together and could never be torn apart, and they floated off into space in a state of bliss. The kiss lingered for nearly a minute until Adriana and Bill floated back down to Earth and remembered where they were.

Bill held Adriana close with the flowers between them. “Will you be my boyfriend, Adriana?”

Back in reality, Adriana's face contorted in pain and he quickly broke out of Bill's grasp, tears forming in his eyes. “I can't.”

Adriana ran inside and slammed the door behind him.

“I love you too.” he whispered through the door.

Bill wandered away in a state of confusion and frustration while Adriana collapsed on the couch and cried hysterically while still holding the flowers in his lap, drinking in their scent. Julia held his hand and tried to calm him down. She didn't understand how complex a grown up relationship could be. If the two boys loved each other, why shouldn't they be together? But Adriana must have his reasons.

Adriana went back to his sewing, but instead of being lost in the clouds all he could think of was how much he hated Tom and that bitch Carrie. As the summer passed Bill and Adriana did not see each other again, but in the back of their minds they could never forget that kiss. They could never forget the scent of the flowers. The prickling of the thorns as their bodies joined together with the flowers between them. The love in their eyes.

In early September Adriana showed up for his last session as a maid on a Wednesday night. He found Tom at the house alone watching a football pregame show. The Giants were playing the Cowboys in the first game of the year. Adriana didn't really have any interest in football anymore, he had his girly hobbies like fashion and sewing and babysitting to occupy his time. Even so, when Tom offered to cancel his last day working to just hang out and watch the game Adriana saw no reason to refuse. He had never done anything as difficult as cleaning a house with a butt plug up his ass in his life and he had done it enough for one lifetime. He would have to suffer Tom's company anyway so he might as well watch the game instead of being leered at while he scrubbed floors.

“Only one thing” Tom told him. “You have to cheer for the Cowboys. That won't be a problem, will it?”

Adriana smiled, “I'm from New York originally, no way I'm rooting against the Giants.”

Tom just stared at him for a moment. Adriana got nervous. “I don't think I was clear, you're cheering for the Cowboys. And you better make me believe you mean it or I'm gonna kick your ass again before I send you home tonight. This is your last day, maid, so it's going to be memorable one way or another.”

Adriana started to hyperventilate in fear, he knew there was nothing he could do, stuck alone with this asshole. Tom went to a closet and retrieved an outfit for Adriana. It consisted of a blue long sleeved halter top, a white vest with blue stars, and a pair of white hot pants with blue stars on the belt. There were also white high heeled boots and two blue and white pom-poms. A Dallas Cowboys cheerleader outfit.

“Do you understand me, maid?” Tom asked.

“Yes, Master” Adriana responded in a trembling, humiliated voice. It was one thing to betray his gender, he had left most of his male pride in the rear view mirror a long time ago, but this was even worse. Even a sissy should be able to pick their own team to root for.

“Put it on, the game is starting soon.” Tom ordered.

Adriana took the outfit and started to leave the room.

“No need, you can change here.” Tom pointed to the center of the room, in front of the TV, and he sat down on the couch to watch.

Adriana trembled as he turned away from Tom and loosened his apron.

“Face me.” Tom instructed.

Adriana turned back around, red faced. He started to unbutton his blouse as quickly as he could to get the degrading process over with but Tom stopped him.

“Take your time.”

Adriana's heart thudded in his chest as he removed his blouse and stood only in his heels, pettipants, and bra.

Tom groaned and Adriana saw he had his hands down his pants. Adriana hated being forced to strip for this asshole to satisfy his perverted obsession, but there was no way out. He pulled down his pettipants and they fell to his ankles. He turned around and bent over to untangle them from his heels. He heard a laugh from behind him and he froze in fear. The butt plug was easily visible behind his black thong panties.

“Nice toy, you horny bitch. I bet it feels nice and snug jammed up there, it must make you think of me every minute, doesn't it?” he asked through his lecherous moans.

Adriana turned back around and pouted. He wanted to scream at him and call him an asshole and run away but he was stuck where he was, being a plaything for this prick. Even so, he could feel his unavoidable lust for Tom growing the more he was dominated. Tom saw Adriana grow hard in his panties and smiled.

“Finish changing.” he told the sissy.

Adriana kicked of his heels and pulled up the hot pants. The halter and the vest came next. He slipped into them slowly and sexily like he knew Tom wanted. After he had the boots on he stood in front of Tom and waited for his response while he just sat there starring with his hands down his pants. Eventually he stood up and walked up to Adriana, who flinched back in instinctual fear as Tom's hands reached towards his head. Tom laughed, kissed Adriana on the forehead, and proceeded to remove Adriana's maid's cap.

“You forgot that, you airhead” he reminded the sissy as he handed over the pom-poms and dropped the cap on top of the pile of maid's clothes on the ground.

“Now cheer for your team, you bimbo.” he told him.

Adriana was shaking with annoyance but knew he had to comply. He had no idea how to cheerlead so he just jumped up and down as much as he could handle without falling over in the high heeled boots and sang “Let's go Cowboys!” over and over. When the game started Tom shushed him and made the sissy sit next to him on the couch. Tom put his hand around Adriana's shoulder and held him uncomfortably close. His dick was out of his pants now and rock hard. Every time the Cowboys made a big play or scored Adriana was made to get up and cheer again and scream about how much the Giants suck. He couldn't believe what he was being forced to do.

At halftime Tom put the TV on mute. “It's time, Adriana.”

“Umm...time for what...Master?” Adriana replied. Whatever it was time for, Adriana knew it wouldn't be good.

Tom pointed to his cock. “You're a cheerleader, remember, you ditz? It's time for the halftime show.”

Adriana shivered with anger and lust as he reached his hand over to Tom's cock, knowing it was pointless to protest. It was better to just do what Tom wanted then to get him angry so he would hurt him again, and still make him do whatever he wanted anyway.

Tom grabbed Adriana's hand and held it away from his cock. “No no, you empty headed slut. Didn't I tell you that one day I was going to cum in your mouth and make you gag and swallow it all down. That you would be on your knees gagging on my cum? Well, today's the day you've been waiting for.”

Adriana felt the pull of his lust. He did remember being told that. At the time he had begged Tom not to make him wait. Before he knew what was happening the sissy was on the floor starring up at the huge, beautiful cock in front of him. Adriana's own cock was bulging in his panties. He didn't care how much he hated Tom, he just knew sucking this cock would make him feel so good, like all the other sissy things he did. He was meant to be a little cocksucker dressed up in a slutty costume for his man. This is who Adriana is.

He licked the tip of Tom's cock and he heard Tom groan in pleasure. The cock was hot and smooth and delicious, Adriana could not believe how good it tasted and smelled and how great licking it made him feel even as he was being drowned in the humiliation at letting Tom take advantage of him once again. He closed his lips over the cock and bobbed his head up and down. He loved the feel of the warm hard cock in his mouth, the pleasure jolted through him again and again.

“Oh yeah, you stupid whore. You bitch. Aren't you having fun?” he asked as he gasped in pleasure.

Adriana just kept sucking. Tom pulled Adriana off his cock by the hair and held him away from it.

“Oh yes, Master! I love it! It's unbelievable.” The sissy licked his lips, bringing a fresh wet appearance to the bright pink lipstick he wore. “Please sir...let me keep going, please!!”

Tom laughed and released his hold on the cocksucker's hair. The sissy went back to work with enthusiasm. All thoughts of resisting his lust for the boy were gone. All thoughts of Bill were gone. All he wanted to do was to suck cock, the rest of his life was all too confusing and complex. This was simple and fun.

“You need to learn to do it right though.” Tom grabbed Adriana's hair again and pushed him all the way down on his cock, his dick jammed right down the sissy's throat.

“I said you would gag! Gag bitch!” he laughed as the sissy gagged and struggled but quickly seemed to get the hang of it like he had been deep throating for years.

Adriana couldn't believe how easy it was to breathe while still taking the huge cock all the way like this, he had no idea how he was doing it, like the whole thing had been part of his sub-conscious somehow just waiting to burst free like the rest of his sissy lifestyle.

Adriana's cock was rock hard in his panties and as he bobbed his head and his body up and down he could feel the butt plug moving in him with the same rhythm. He moaned in pleasure around the cock in his mouth. He imagined he was bent over a table with one cock in his mouth and another fucking him in the ass. He got lost in this perverted fantasy and drifted away from his just as perverted reality. He could see it was still Tom's cock in his mouth and as he looked up Tom looked down on him with a sneer and called him a whore. He felt the cock in his mouth twitching violently like it was ready to cum. He looked behind him to see who was fucking him in the ass. It was a big black guy in an orange jumpsuit. Carrie was standing beside him, laughing. The humiliation overwhelmed Adriana and fueled his lust even more.

“Oh GOD!” Tom screamed, snapping Adriana back to reality just in time for the cock to explode in his mouth. The first load shot right down his throat and at the same time Adriana came in his panties. Adriana's pleasure was white hot and exploded out of his cock and deep inside his ass out through his entire body. He was on fire with orgasmic pleasure. The muscles of his back involuntary arched him back as he spasmed and the cock popped out of his mouth. The rest of Tom's load splattered all over the sissy's face.

In the afterglow the world seemed weird and distorted. Adriana felt empty and helpless and degraded and didn't understand what had happened. He sat at Tom's feet panting and hugging his muscular leg. He had no will to move unless he was told to by his superior. He was totally under Tom's spell again. All he wanted to do was submit.

Some time later after Tom's heavy breathing died down he pushed Adriana away and went to the discarded pile of clothes. He picked up the apron and approached the sissy, who looked down at the ground in appropriate deference. Tom stuck his finger under Adriana's chin and made him look up. Tom wiped the cum off Adriana's face with the apron, staining it again.

“Master...” Adriana whispered...”I made a mess in my panties too.” he reported, red faced.

Tom smiled, “I know, that's okay sissy. I'll do something about that later. I don't want you to cum without permission.”

“I'm sorry, Master.” he replied.

“You're my boyfriend now, Adriana. Nobody else will get in the way.” he told the sissy.

“But...I can't, Carrie, she...”

“I'll dump her.” he said matter of factly.

“It's not that...” Adriana blushed as he thought of the man in the orange jumpsuit from his fantasy and quickly rushed on to tell Tom about the blackmail.

Tom laughed, “So that's why you've been wearing the plug. I noticed before tonight, you know, your walk got even more swishy you little fag.”

Adriana blushed but said nothing.

“Carrie may be a crazy bitch, but she's ruthless and clever. You gotta respect that. It's why it was so fun for me to mess with you two. Anyway, I know those earrings. They're fake. Mom doesn't care.”

Adriana groaned, the whole ordeal had been pointless. “THAT BITCH!”

Tom nodded and pulled Adriana to his feet. He sat back down on the couch and Adriana sat down next to him, and the two boys cuddled close together.

Tom just laughed at Adriana cursing his rival for Tom's love. “Anyway, I'm done with her. And I know you're done with that Bill fag too, because if not you know I'll make your life a living hell.”

Adriana felt cold icy fear, suddenly remembering who the psychopath he was cuddling with really was. Why did this always happen? Why couldn't he resist him? Every time he tried something pulled him back in, and the pleasure and the pain always came in equal parts.

Adriana rested his head on Tom's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth and strength beside him. His resistance melted away again. The sound of the game drifted away. He didn't care if he had to root for the Cowboys, football was stupid anyway. Who cares about football? Men, and he isn't a man, he's a cocksucking sissy bimbo who needs to learn just to do what he's told. Everything is so much more simple that way.

Adriana drifted off to sleep like that. When he woke up the game was over and he felt strange. He was lying nude on the couch and there was something attached to his cock. He reached for it and felt a plastic tube, he tried to pull it off but it was locked on.

“It's a chastity device, to make extra sure my little slut doesn't get any ideas about cheating on me.” Tom held up a key. “I'll hold onto this until we need it. Get dressed and go home, my Mom is coming home soon.”

Adriana put on his maid's outfit one more time, cumstained apron and all. The chastity and the plug combined to be incredibly uncomfortable. He hated the experience. Tom grabbed him at the door and gave him an aggressive kiss goodbye, biting and sucking on his neck as usual. “Now go home bitch, and don't tell your family about your little chastity aid. Or else. I'll see you at school, and we're going out on Friday.”

Adriana nodded and left the house. “That fucking asshole.” he muttered to himself.

So for the next few weeks they were boyfriends. Carrie tried to follow through with her blackmail only to be thrown out of the house by Tom's mom. As miserable as Adriana was with his current situation at least it was nice that he got the last laugh there. That cunt!

Every day at school he was forced to follow Tom around like a puppy dog when he wasn't in class. They would make out right in the halls in front of everyone and Tom would loudly refer to Adriana as his bitch for everyone to hear.

On Friday nights they would go out on a date and Tom would make Adriana suck his cock again. It made Adriana horny as hell but with the chastity device on he couldn't cum. The lust drove him crazy, he would jam his fingers up his ass to try and stimulate himself while he blew his boyfriend, but it wasn't enough to make him cum with no stimulation at all for his cock.

Bill would see them in the halls day after day, looking hurt and betrayed and confused. Adriana wanted to explain but Tom wouldn't let him. Multiple times Adriana had to run from class crying like a little girl because he couldn't put up with the situation he was stuck in. He got detention a few times for acting like such a drama queen and disrupting class.

At home Aileen tried to help him out of his funk but there wasn't anything she could do to get through to her brother. Ever since he had taken the maid job he had shut himself down from her and become more and more isolated and introverted, spending all his time at home holed up in his room with his Ruthie doll and his romance novels.

One day in late October Adriana was walking down the hall trying to avoid Tom when Bill popped up beside him. Adriana was startled and clumsily tripped in his heels as usual but Bill caught him. Their eyes locked together with longing for a moment but Adriana shoved Bill away when he regained his balance.

“What do you want?” Adriana asked testily.

“I want you to go with me to the Halloween dance.” Bill replied.

Adriana stomped his foot in frustration. “I already have a boyfriend, you know that!”

Bill just nodded and walked away. Adriana was shocked. Bill looked resigned, like he didn't even care anymore. Adriana ran to the bathroom and had another crying fit. That afternoon he was giving Nina a ride home when she dropped a bombshell on him. “So Ade, did you hear about Bill and Aileen?”

Adriana's ears perked up. “Ummm, hear what?”

“She asked him out to the Halloween dance and he said yes!” Nina excitedly exclaimed.

Adriana nearly drove the car off the road in shock before recovering his senses. “WHAT!? That doesn't even make sense! He doesn't like girls! Why would she DO this to me? It isn't fair!” he whined.

Nina shrugged as they arrived at her house, “Well, ask your sister, I think they'll make a cute couple and you had your chance. Bye Ade!”

Adriana said nothing and spun the tires loudly as he sped away home. He stomped his way in the house and up the stairs right past his mother's request to demand to know what was going on. He went right to the door of his sister's room and tried the knob but it was locked. He banged loudly on the door and screamed, “LET ME IN, AILEEN!”

He kept banging on the door to no avail and then backed up. He rushed forward with his shoulder down to break his way in right as the door opened inward. He screamed as Aileen dodged out of the way and he tripped into her room. He sat there crying and rubbing his ankle as Aileen looked down on him with her arms folded, not coming to comfort him as she normally would.

“What do you want, Adriana?” she asked.

Through his crying he screamed, “WHY? You know I like Billy, why would you do this to me!?”

She shrugged. “You have a boyfriend, Adriana, and it isn't Bill. Every time he tries to get close to you, you drive him away. You can't expect him to wait for you forever. If you like him, than dump that asshole Tom and PROVE IT!”

Adriana flinched as his sister yelled at him and whined back, “But it doesn't even make sense, he doesn't like girls. You know that. You could have any boy you want, why are you doing this to me?”

She angrily pointed a finger at him, “I'm not doing anything to YOU. If you want him, you can HAVE him.”

She reached for her phone and dialed Bill's number and held it out for her brother to take but he refused.

“Fine then, so stop bitching at me about it. If you have to know, I asked him out because...well...we both have a similar problem. You see...I don't like boys. I'm sick of getting asked out all the time. Boy after boy every day. This way Bill and I don't have to worry about anyone bothering us about it anymore.”

Adriana stared at his sister in shock. “No way...I don't believe it! You're a lesbian?”

Her face flushed with anger. “Oh, is there something wrong with that? You're the biggest queer on the planet, don't lecture me!”

Adriana looked hurt. He stood up, flinching on his hurt ankle and smothered his sister in a hug. “It's not that...” he explained, “It's just...well...Aileen...BOYS ARE AWESOME! When they hold you and squeeze you and...when I'm with Tom I feel like...well it's the greatest feeling in the world and...how could you not like th...” Adriana trailed off as Aileen began frowning at him again.

“I guess it isn't all that great all the time...” He started weeping openly and collapsed on her bed. This time she came and comforted him while he cried himself out. She was more certain than ever Adriana needed her help to escape Tom. If making him jealous was the only way, then that is what she had to do.

Once he was calmed down she asked him, “Do you want to see something cool? I've been working on a costume for you and your date, and I did two for me and Bill with the same theme too, I think you're gonna really like it...”

Adriana lifted up his red, tear stained face in curiosity. Aileen went to her closet and opened it. There were three costumes on display.

“This one is mine.” Aileen noted, and pointed to the first one. The top looked like a lot like his maid's outfit. He squinted. He was pretty sure it was his maid's outfit. He promised himself to never tell her about what Tom had repeatedly done to the apron. The skirt, however, was what made the costume amazing. It was an incredibly full skirt layered with black and white feathers.

Aileen smiled at him. “Do you get it?”

Adriana shook his head and she laughed at him. “It's FiFi, the feather duster from Beauty and the Beast, remember?”

Now Adriana got it and he laughed. The feather duster was a maid who had been cursed with the rest of the household, the candle Lumiere was her boyfriend. “Very nice, and I'm glad you found something to use that old maid's outfit for. I know I wasn't ever gonna wear it again.”

Aileen smiled at him and showed off the next costume. “This is for Bill.”

It was a suave suit in golden colors with a white shirt. It came with a top-hat in the shape of a candle with a wick at the top and a tiny little battery powered orange light. Lumiere the candle, of course, to go with his girlfriend.

“And this if for your Tom, of course...” she continued. “The Beast.”

The costume featured black pants with a gold stripe, a white shirt, a long blue coat, and a ferocious, intimidating but still somehow hauntingly handsome bestial mask.

Adriana was impressed, but the thought of what must be coming next dominated his thoughts, “But Aileen, you don't mean that I'm going to go as...I'm a boy you know that...I don't want to wear...a dres...”

His voice trailed off to nothing as Aileen revealed a fourth costume, a stunning yellow ball gown. It was a perfect replica of the dress from the movie with full skirts covering billowing white petticoats and a bodice that would leave his shoulders bare. It came with long yellow gloves, golden earrings and stunning yellow heels. There was also an elegantly styled brunette wig with a yellow hairband.

Adriana was so entranced by the dress he forgot to breath until Aileen ran over to him and grabbed him in a hug. “I KNEW you would love it! I knew it! I know you don't normally wear dresses, but this is Halloween, that doesn't count! You can go as whoever you want and you LOVE Belle! Isn't it perfect!? Isn't it the best costume ever!?”

Adriana was still shell shocked but he managed to squeak out...”But how did you afford all this...all the material...to make four different costumes....?”

Aillen laughed, “Oh, Bill and Tom agreed to chip in, and as for ours well...”

Their mother's voice rang out, startling the boy, “I paid for your costume, Adriana. You did so well paying me back after your last mistake and you haven't been getting into any more trouble since. You deserve a treat! And as a bonus...”

She showed him the paddle she had named his little reminder and his hands reflexively went to his behind in fear “...I don't think you need this anymore.” She tossed the paddle into the trash can.

Adriana forgot about all his troubles and gave his mother and sister massive hugs and squealed out his thanks. He knew he would end up having a great time at the dance.

In the dark parking lot Adriana moans as Tom sucks on his neck, knowing the humiliating hicky and bite marks will show on his neck at the dance. Only a few minutes earlier he had been all smiles, posing with Bill, Aileen, and Tom as his mother took their picture before they headed off to the dance. Now he was awash in the conflicting sexual responses he always had to Tom, the lust of his compulsion to be with the boy and the disgust he felt for him mixing together.

Tom retrieved a key from his pocked and dangled it in front of Adriana's eyes before dropping it in the center console of the car. “I'm going to unlock you when we get back to the car, doesn't that make you happy, my little sissy princess?”

Adriana moaned again in lust and anticipation, eager to end his months long forced chastity. “Yes, Master.”

Tom went on, “And after I unlock you, we're going to go into the backseat and I'm going to pop your cherry. I'm gonna fuck your ass for an hour right here in the parking lot until you scream and cum all over my seats. I'm gonna blow your mind and split your ass wide open, don't think that plug prepared you. And when I'm done fucking you I'm going to make you lick up all our cum and mess until my car is clean. Your sister may be wearing the outfit now, but you'll always be my maid, my little servant, you little bitch. Let's go.”

He opened the door and got out of the car. Adriana took a moment to fix his makeup while Tom put on his mask and came around to the other side of the car to take his date's hand and help him out. Adriana took his hand nervously as they walked towards the school gymnasium where the dance was going on. Even after all he had been through, all his humiliating experiences, he never could have fathomed walking into his school wearing a ball gown and an elaborate wig dressed as a Disney Princess.

Adriana thought about the other present his sister had given him before they left. It was waiting in a pink backpack in Tom's car.

“Hey Ade,” she said, “Remember those sexy purple heels you got when we first went to the spa?”

Adriana nodded, “You called them stripper heels and said I would never find an outfit to go with them!”

Aileen giggled, “Yeah, that's them! While I found something!”

It was a full purple corset with black bows, matching thong panties, and matching garters and stockings.

She continued, “Might as well get a stripper outfit to go with stripper shoes. Tom is gonna love it!”

Adriana couldn't deny she was right, and he would finally get a chance to wear those sexy shoes!

The gymnasium was a writhing mass of people in costumes of all shapes and colors. He wasn't the only boy dressed as a girl, but deep down he knew there was some major differences between him and other boys, people would think he belonged in dresses. He was starting to think they weren't that wrong. He wore girl's clothes all the time anyway, and he certainly acted more like a stereotypical girl than most women. He thought about all his boy troubles and drama queen moments and blushed. Maybe skirts and dresses weren't so bad, maybe he could wear them more often, at least for special occasions like this. What else would he wear to a dance now anyway? Or a wedding?

He spent the night on Tom's arm, dancing when Tom wanted to and stopping when he didn't. He followed Tom around like a puppydog like he normally did. He did his best to please Tom and be the perfect date. Tom never wanted to slow dance though, and that was a shame considering Adriana's amazing dress was just made for it. He took the risk of sticking his neck out to beg for a slow dance and finally Tom agreed, smirking and saying he would do anything to make his bitch happy. Adriana just took the insult with a smile. He got what he wanted after all.

They moved back and forth to the music, Adriana following his lead every step of the way. He was actually a good dancer, Adriana realized. They almost had a romantic moment. Tom leaned forward for a kiss as the music began to swell to a crescendo but at that moment Adriana looked across the dance floor and saw an orange light above the dance floor. What was it? And then he remembered Bill's hat. They locked eyes. Adriana vaguely remembered a dream of candles and a yellow dress. Tom was surprised as his lips hit Adriana's cheek instead of his lips, and his eyes followed his date's.

Tom's grip on Adriana's arm became increasingly strong and tight. He dragged Adriana over to Bill and Ailleen. Aileen scampered away as Tom confronted Bill with Adriana held firmly at his side.

“I warned you, fag. Adriana is mine. If you fuck with him anymore I'm going to kick your ass and beat Adriana here into a pulp...” he paused a moment, “...Again.”

Adriana started to cry. This was his worst nightmare. He had done everything in his power to carry this cross himself and keep everyone else out of the way. Bill had been through too much bullying in his life. He didn't deserve any more, and now he was in trouble with Tom just because Adriana was too much of a tease to make him lose interest and...

“Just fucking try it.” Bill replied.

Before Adriana knew what was happening he was being dragged outside behind Tom as whispers spread covertly around the dance that there was going to be a fight. It was all a blur to Adriana as he watched through his tears...Bill...don't do it...don't get beat up for me...

Adriana stood in the circle that had formed around the two combatants. Girls and and boys in costumes surrounded them urging them on while Adriana begged them to stop. “No! Please don't! Don't fight over me! Tom, I love you. Don't hurt him, please!”

“I know you love me, bitch.” Tom replied with a wink as he removed his mask.

A look of intense anger and determination flashed over Bill's face and in an instant they were going at each other. They exchanged a few punches back and forth with little damage, but then quick as lightning Bill managed to tackle Tom and take him to the ground. He punched at Tom's face wildly.

Adriana couldn't believe it. The takedown was like something out of an MMA fight and now Bill was wailing on Tom without mercy. It was so astounding Adriana could barely admit it had happened. Bill had won the fight and it wasn't even close! He was better at fighting now than Rocco ever had been! What kind of training had he been doing at that gym? It must have been tireless work to turn himself from the scrawny little kid he has used to be into the confident and strong young man he was now. And he had done it all because he loved his Adriana!

Adriana ran into the circle and pulled Bill off the beaten and bloody Tom and kissed him. He could taste and smell the blood and sweat and Bill's manliness just drove him wild. There were butterflies in his stomach and deep underneath the skirts of his yellow ball gown he could feel his cock straining to be free of the chastity device.

He broke off the kiss. “I love you Billy!”

“Yo Adriana, I've waited long enough, will you be my boyfriend?” Bill asked.

“FOREVER!” Adriana gushed as they hugged.

Suddenly Adriana grabbed his arm, “Come with me!”

Adriana and Bill ran away towards the parking lot as the onlookers stood in shock. Tom staggered to his feet and retrieved a knife from his pocket. He was just about to follow after the couple when security arrived. An off-duty police officer saw the knife and ordered him to drop it. He tackled Tom to the ground and handcuffed him.

Aileen and Nina stood watching Bill and Adriana run off and shared a giggle. Nina looked over at her friend, “He really believed you're a lesbo?” she asked.

Aileen laughed, “I like to mess with his head sometimes.”

“Really?” she replied.

Aileen smiled, “You don't know the half of it.”

Adriana and Bill approached the beautiful red Mustang at a jog. Adriana had taken off his heels so he wouldn't trip and was holding up his skirts and petticoats to keep them from trailing on the asphalt so he had Bill do the honors. Bill picked up a rock and smashed the window of the car setting off a loud alarm. He quickly reached in and retrieved Adriana's key and backpack. Adriana handed Bill his heels and took the key. As they ran off there was a loud 'screeeeeeeeeeeeeech' as Adriana keyed a line all the way down the side of the car.

“ASSHOLE!” he screamed as the two lovers ran off to Bill's car to get away before security caught them. As they ran Adriana started to giggle uncontrollably prompting Bill to ask what was so funny. “Belle isn't supposed to end up the stupid candle!”

Bill laughed briefly but replied more seriously, “That Beast wasn't turning into a Prince any time soon...Let's make our own story, Ade.”

“I love you, Billy.” was the only reply.

As they drove Adriana tearfully tried to explain why he had rejected Bill for so long out of fear of Tom and how much he wanted to be together with Bill but he quieted him. It didn't matter anymore. Bill drove to a house where a friend of his was having a party after the dance since his parents were away.

At the party they both drank a few beers and smoked some pot that was being passed around to calm their nerves after the adrenaline rush of the fight and their run through the parking lot. They tried to mingle and socialize but they really couldn't think of anything but being alone together. As they padded up the stairs Adriana blushed as he heard a few wolf whistles behind them.

They locked themselves in the master bedroom of the house. Adriana had Bill unzip his dress and then disappeared into the bathroom to change. When he was dressed in the purple and black lingerie set and his stripper heels he felt more sexy and desirable than he ever had in his entire life. When he left the bathroom he found Bill lying on the bed in his underwear. He beckoned Adriana to his side and they immediately started passionately making out.

It was so different for Adriana than with Tom. Bill was so gentle and loving. He used his strength to support and brace Adriana rather than to push him around and intimidate him. Adriana drifted towards the end of the bed and started kissing his feet, and then kissed his way up to Bill's crotch. Adriana pulled down his underwear and tossed them aside, freeing the bulging cock that was trapped beneath. His cock was even bigger and more beautiful than Tom's. Adriana looked up at his lover and Bill nodded at him. Adriana took Bill's cock in his mouth and sucked lovingly.

He repeated praise for Adriana's performance over and over, it was a stark contrast from the humiliating way Tom treated him when Adriana gave him head. There was no hair pulling, no jamming his cock down Adriana's throat, no humiliating an abusive insults. There was only love and respect.

“I love you, baby, oh my god I love you so much Adriana, you are so great.” he told his Adriana over and over.

The two locked eyes as Adriana worked, and Bill's smile as he came made Adriana as happy as could be. When he recovered from his orgasm Bill gently wiped the cum off Adriana's face with a tissue. A gentlemanly gesture to a boy used to having his own apron or other clothes used for the purpose after a blow job.

The two cuddled together and made out some more until finally Adriana turned on to his stomach and stuck his ass in the air in submissive expectation while hugging a pillow below him.

“Aren't you forgetting something, baby? Bill asked as he held up the key to Adriana's chastity device.

Adriana blushed. “I guess I forgot...I don't even care anymore as long as you're happy, Billy.”

Bill smiled. “Well I care.” He reached over and unlocked the device and Adriana gasped in pleasure as he experienced freedom down there for the first time in months. As soon as his cock realized it was free, it became rock hard in anticipation of what was about to occur. Bill spread lube all over his cock and fingers and then began applying the lube to Adriana's asshole. Adriana was shaking with happy expectation as he felt the fingers inside him.

“Are you ready?” Bill asked.

“Ready! Give it to me, Billy! Give it to me!” Adriana replied with glee and screamed out in a loud exclamation of pleasure as Bill's cock took his anal virginity.

Bill started slowly in fear of hurting his inexperienced partner but Adriana was screaming out like an over-acting porn star with every stroke.

“OH YEAHHH!'

“UHHHH! HARDER!”

“OH! OH!”

Bill stopped for a moment and laughed with his cock still buried deep. “Are you making fun of me? Are you faking, Ade? It's okay if you don't like it at first.”

But Adriana wasn't faking a thing. He turned around, his eyes glazed over with lust, “This is the best thing that's ever happened to me! I love it! KEEP FUCKING ME BILLY, PLEASE!” he begged.

Bill resumed.

“OH YEAH! HARDER!”

Bill complied.

“FASTER! FUCK ME FASTER! YESSSSS!” Adriana screamed. He was totally lost in the moment and had no care at all that he was in a stranger's house crowded with people. None of that mattered. It felt too good!

Bill picked up his pace and fucked his sissy boyfriend as hard and fast as he possibly could. The constant loud screams of pleasure and the begging for more made him hotter and hotter and he started to lose his mind and yell along with them.

“OH YEAH, JUST LIKE THAT, FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT! NOOO, NOT LIKE THAT! HARDER HARDER HARDER!” Adriana screamed at the top of his lungs.

Bill yelled back, “IF I FUCK YOU ANY HARDER WE'RE GONNA BREAK THE BED!”

“I DON'T CARE! OH-YEAH! FUCK! HARDER!”

Downstairs the party-goers listened to the wild sexual exchange from above and heard the frantic banging grow louder and louder, shaking the lights that hung from the ceiling. Some tried to go outside to escape it but it was echoing all over the neighborhood through an open window.

Drool poured from Adriana's mouth as he hugged his pillow and reveled in the incredible fucking his boyfriend was giving him. The two were lost in their own world, covered in sweat and lube and surrounded by the sounds of their bodies slapping together and the screams of their lust. Adriana didn't know what he was screaming anymore, he wanted to tell the whole world how much he loved Bill and loved getting fucked in the ass but he was so overwhelmed with lust and pleasure he couldn't put it into words.

The banging sounded like a jackhammer now. The bed was shaking. It felt to the two boys like the whole world was shaking around them, like they were making an earthquake.

BANG

“YES! BILLY YES!”

BANG

“ADE, HOLY FUCK, YOU'RE SO HOT! YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL! I'M GONNA CUMMMMM!”

BANG

“ME TOOOOO!”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG CRASH

The old wooden bed cracked under the pressure and fell apart. The mattress hit the floor and with that impact they came together with two final lustful screams. They floated together in a heavenly dreamworld where time had no meaning and their bodies were one.

Eventually they came to their senses and realized what they had done. They got dressed and made their way downstairs. Adriana could not walk right without Bill to support him and he felt the cum leaking into his panties as he moved. Some of the party-goers had returned once the noise died down. They stared at the two costumed boys and whispered to each other.

Adriana knew what they must be thinking. “Those two queers finally got together. That sissy fag we used to call Rocco got his ass pounded and loved it. Freaks.”

Adriana didn't care. Who cares what other people think? He's a sissy, so what? He was born a sissy, and he will always be a sissy. No more pretending to be something he isn't. He has Bill, and his sister, and his friends, and his family. Those are all the things he needs.

Bill looked to his friend who was throwing the party and grimaced, “Uhh, sorry about the bed...we'll pay for it.”

Adriana giggled and Bill smiled at him. Adriana held the arm that was supporting him firmly as they left and Adriana smiled back.

“Don't let me trip!” Adriana told him.

“Never.” he replied.

THE END

Note: This story was originally published on Fictionmania as “Sissy Kimmy”. This is an edited, updated, and slightly expanded version.

This story includes physical, psychological, and sexual abuse. It contains intense violence and horror
elements. Reader discretion is advised.
-
PDF Version, may be easier on the eyes.

The Girl in Red — The Woman In White
by SissyKimmy1

Part 1: The Girl In Red

Chapter 1: That Isn't My Name

I was a small boy, just under five feet tall. I was eighteen and most boys my age would be called men, but that would be a bit of an exaggeration in my case. I was not strong, tall, or assertive. I dreamed about girls, but it never seemed to happen. I had dropped out my senior year of high school and was too lazy to get a job. I didn't expect or desire the terrible fate that awaited me, but it was partly my own fault for not even trying to be an independent and responsible person. I had my chance to leave after I dropped out, but how could I have known how vital it was to get away?

On that summer day when my stepmother Kathy announced her decision to turn me into a little girl, I told her there was no way she could possibly force me to go along and decided to leave home that day, but I had no idea how well she had prepared.

It was at lunchtime, with my younger sisters Marie and Marlena giggling all the while with the knowledge of what was to come, that their plan was put into action.

"Are you enjoying your lunch, Kimmy?" my stepmother asked.

"My name isn't Kimmy and there is no way you could ever force me to..." my voice trailed off and I started to become dizzy. I fell backwards in my chair and they all gathered around.

"It worked like a charm, Mom" said Marie as the room continued to twirl. "By the time he wakes up, there will be no escape for our new little sister.”

I awoke in a dark room, I floated in a hazy fog for quite some time. Weird memories danced in my head but none of them made any sense at all. Alertness hit me suddenly, they were going to make me into a little girl? That must have been part of the dream, why would I think such a thing...?

Suddenly a sharp voice rang out, "Good Morning, little Kimmy!"

It struck me, it wasn't a dream, they had drugged me and were putting this crazy plan into action, but who was this voice...

The lights came on and I saw her. A tall, beautiful woman with blonde hair. She was dressed casually in jeans and a tight shirt.

"Hello, little girl, my name is Cindy, I'm here to help. By the time I'm finished with you today all of your girlish dreams will come true. I have very few boys who come here so willingly, so I will do my very best to make you the most precious little girl I have ever produced."

Came here willingly, eh? I'll show this bitch, I may be short but I'm not weak. I lunged towards her fists flying but...she stood there giggling as my fists flew. She grabbed both my hands, held them and said, "Having second thoughts, are we? Well, I'm afraid the time for those has passed. The treatment has already been administered, you are more girl than boy now, the treatment has sapped all the strength from your muscles, you couldn't hurt a kitten.”

“NO, IT'S IMPOSSIB....” I stopped and covered my mouth, the voice that came out was unmistakably that of a little girl, shrilly high pitched with a very slight lisp.

“Oh, little Kimmy, so much is possible, come to the mirror and see.”

In shock I followed and what I saw was beyond belief. Beautiful thick curls of auburn hair flowed gracefully to her shoulders. The face was angelic, blushing cheeks and pink lips and girlish lashes. The only sign at all that the creature in the mirror was not a small girl was the tiny penis and balls.

She saw my glance, “Yes, you're still a boy in one place. Your mother chose not to advance the treatment that far but...well, you best behave Kimmy is all I can say.”

The face in the mirror twisted in distress and began to cry, at that same moment a stream of urine began flowing as well.

Cindy spoke with mocking gentleness as I entered full tantrum mode, “There, there Kimmy. It's okay, you're only a little girl, your potty training isn't what it once was. I hope we can keep you out of diapers, but you'll have to be quick to find an adult to help you on to your potty.”

I stared at the ground in complete humiliation. Cindy sensed I was now completely at her mercy. “Oh, it won't be so bad Kimmy. Isn't this what you always wanted? No responsibilities, no school, no work. Just a life of total dependence on your stepmother and sisters. It won't be any different than your life has been up till now, you'll just look right for the part and learn to act with proper respect. An 18 year old boy looks silly sitting around the house all day, but now that you're a little girl it will be completely natural to look to all the real adults for guidance and support instead of doing things for yourself.”

I seethed with anger, it was true I had been a bit irresponsible, but lots of people don't get their life together until later, but they had made sure I would never have the chance.

“Now,” Cindy said, “It is time to get you properly dressed and ready to be sent home.”

She went to a closet at the side of the room and opened it. What I saw made me begin to quiver in humiliation again as I sniffled. First, she retrieved a set of classic frilly little girl panties. They were white with little flowers all over. I continued to cry as she made me step into them.

“There, doesn't that feel so nice? So smooth and comfy.” She patted my behind gently. “You should have been in these so long ago!”

Next, she retrieved a pair of white tights and carefully pulled them up into place. “Don't you feel so girly and sweet?”

I looked into the mirror again, there was no longer any evidence at all that it was a boy being dressed like this aside from the pouting and clearly unhappy face.

She slipped a pair of pink Mary Janes on my feet and giggled. She moved to a curtain in the corner of the room and unveiled the dress that I would be wearing as I stepped forward into my new life. It was unbelievable, I had once seen a TV show about beauty pageants for little girls in which they pranced around in the most flouncy and silly frocks, complete caricatures of the most extreme versions of femininity, but the thought of being forced into this dress was worse than prancing around in anything I had ever seen on TV.

It was bright, pure white with humongous pink puffy sleeves. The bodice and skirt were embroidered with pink hearts and fairies and there was a wide pink sash between them to tie in a big bow in the back. There was a stiff pink petticoat underneath the skirt that made it clear that barely even my panties would be covered.

I had enough, the little girl in nothing but tights, panties and Mary Janes I could see in the mirror became red faced and violently stamped her foot. “THERE IS NO WAY I AM WEARING THIS, THIS HAS GONE FAR ENOUGH, CHANGE ME BACK AND...”

I got no further as I yelped in fear as she closed upon me, I groaned as I piddled in my panties before she was even halfway there. She lifted me up, kicking and screaming, and took a seat with my stomach on her lap and my pink Mary Janes kicking in panic.

“Now listen here, little Kimmy, you will wear whatever your mommy tells you to wear and be an obedient little girl.” She rubbed my butt gently. “Part of the treatment was to give you a VERY low tolerance for pain. You will redefine the definition of a wimp. Even a little bump will leave you bawling and crying for your sisters or your Mommy to come comfort you. Let me give you just a little taste.”

The first spank sent pain through me like I had never felt before. My panties and tights were no protection at all. I howled and cried hysterically from just one gentle slap.

She continued, and counted up to ten. It was like a hot brand had been taken to my ass and she was barely hitting me at all. The pain got worse and worse as she continued, it must have only taken a minute, but to me it was the longest moment of my life. It was an eternity.

When she was done, she tossed me on the ground and I rolled around kicking and screaming in my wet panties and frantically rubbing my behind. I had no idea how they did it, but they had fully reduced me to a helpless little panty wetter. There was no viable path of resistance.

Cindy screamed down at me, “LITTLE GIRLS DO AS THEY ARE TOLD, THAT GOES FOR ME OR YOUR MOMMY OR YOUR BIG SISTERS OR ANY OTHER ADULT, IS THAT CLEAR!?”

There was no fight left in me this day, that was for sure. She simply waited, I was quietly sniffling on the ground and she told me to get up. She didn't even have to instruct me on what to do next. I came to her on my knees in my wet panties and tights and begged her. “Please put me in my pretty dress Cindy, I'm a good little girl, please put me in my dress and don't spank me anymore.”

“Now that's the willing little boygirl I expected from the start! But you seem to be having some serious problems with your potty training today so we'll have to start from square one with your undergarments.”

She went to a drawer and retrieved a pair of disposable pink pullup training panties featuring Disney princesses and held them up expectantly in front of me. I obediently stepped into the humiliating panties and she dressed me in a new set of tights and slipped on my Mary Janes. I felt dizzy as I was dressed in the pink petticoat and the dress. I wanted to let my mind drift away and pretend it was happening to someone else, but the sensations were all so new and strange and the embarrassment of my new station crushed me and granted me no escape.

The experience was nothing like I had ever imagined. With my undergarments so exposed and the ridiculously frilly and girlish dress I felt like I was six years old. Waves of humiliation and anger and frustration coursed through me.

“Almost done, Kimmy!” She affixed a pink bow on the top of my head. I stared at the little girl in the mirror, there was not a trace of masculinity to be found and she wasn't even done. She handed me a doll clearly modeled directly after my new appearance, she had the same hair and dress and I could swear the face looked just like my new face. It was amazingly detailed. It was so realistic that for the briefest instant I thought I saw something in the doll's eyes, like it was alive.

“Say hello to your new friend, Kimmy.”

I looked at the toy and whispered in my new, disturbing feminine voice. “Hello...Dolly.”

Cindy laughed. “Well, you can come up with a more creative name than that later. Now Kimmy, we are going to go and meet your Mommy and sisters. If there really is some part of you that doesn't want this, remember that they decided it would be best to let you keep your little cock and balls. If you disobey them at all you will be back here and....well, nevermind. Remember to give them a cute little curtsey when you're introduced!”

She led me outside into a small waiting room where my mother and sisters greeted me. The look on their faces was impossible to describe. Marie, the elder of the two with her blonde hair, serious face, and dancer's lithe body looked at me like a trapped animal in a cage. Marlena, the younger sister with her brunette hair, warm and friendly face, and more full figure looked at me like a new baby or a cute puppy. I could tell they were both looking forward to all the humiliating fun that would be the hallmark of my future life.

My stepmother Kathy, tall and beautiful in an icy way with long black hair, spoke first, “Meet your new little sister girls!”

On cue, I bobbed in my curtsy automatically. It wasn't even the fear of more punishment that made me do it. The training panties, the ridiculously bouffant petticoat, and the doll I was clutching just made me fell so naturally girlish that there was no other response I could think of for my introduction to my new life.

Marie squealed. “Oh my god! She is sooooo pretty!”

They took in the ridiculous dress, the clearly evident training panties the petticoat could not conceal, the totally feminized features, and all the rest. They swarmed around me, lifting my skirts and stroking my dress.

Marlena gushed at my appearance, “She's a whole different person! I can't believe it! She's the cutest little girl I've ever seen. Look at those curls! Is she potty trained or will she need the pull-ups all the time?”

Cindy replied, “I'm not sure, she certainly had no control today so I may have gone too far, but it's been so emotional for her finding out who she is now, let her try and earn her big girl panties tomorrow.”

I vowed to myself that I would.

Kathy instructed me to thank Cindy for the lovely job and say good bye, and I did it with a curtsy and a pout, the memory of the horrible spanking still in my mind.

They ushered me outside to the car, I burned with humiliation as I walked through the crowded parking lot with people gawking at the strange sight of a little girl dressed so fancily. They sat me in a child seat in the back of the car with my “big sisters” on each side, promising to play games with me to keep me entertained.

“Oh Kimmy,” said my stepmother who I was informed I was now required to call Mommy, “You told us it couldn’t be done, but in one day you were turned from a useless irresponsible boy into a simpering little girl without a care in the world, and your fun is just getting started!”

I cried and involuntarily emptied my bladder into my training panties, there was no other way I could possibly respond.

Chapter 2: Meeting the Neighbors

I stood trembling in fear by the front door. I was dressed in a pink and while sailor suit with knee high white socks and my “favorite” pink Mary Janes. My auburn curls were topped with a pink fluffy clip-on flower. My sister Marie stood directly behind me holding the other end of the baby reins that were keeping me in place.

“Go ahead Kimmy, just like the others, we have a lot more houses to hit!” my sister urged me.

It had been several weeks since my new life had begun, and now I was being paraded around the block to introduce myself personally to the neighbors. Things had been getting steadily worse and worse since the day of my shocking gender change.

I had a new room suitable for a baby or a little girl, with white and pastel yellow features and an oversized crib with a sturdy lock.

I had learned a new routine. I was dressed every morning by my mother or one of my sisters in whatever mundane or exotic little girl outfit they had in mind. If I was lucky I spent my day playing with my new dollies and watching Disney movies or other childish shows. If I wasn't they took me out in public like today and came up with new ways for me to humiliate myself.

I went to bed early and was only allowed out of my crib when my tormenters were ready to start my torture all over again. By the morning I didn't care, I just wanted to be free of the crib.

About the only measure of positive progress I'd made since the ordeal began was that I'd finally begun to be able to control my altered bladder, much to my pride. Sure, they put me in a big fluffy diaper overnight, but they could hardly blame me for wetting myself when they locked me in a crib for hours and hours.

It may sound weird to talk about continence as something to be proud of for an eighteen year old, but I had to fight somehow to retain my sense of self worth. They used this pride against me, it was the cause of my current trip around the neighborhood.

“Well, congratulations!” said Mommy after my fourth day without accidents, “Keep this up and you can have your big girl panties for good!”

I kept up my efforts and one night right before bed she told me that since I was so proud I should go around the neighborhood in the morning and tell the world about my achievement.

And here I was. The door opened, and I began the horrible performance I had been forced to memorize and had already debuted for several audiences.

“Hello, my name is Kimmy.!” I said excitedly in my childish feminine voice as I performed a curtsy.

“You may have known me as someone else until a few weeks ago, but now thanks to my mommy and sisters my true self has been set free! I just wanted to come by and introduce myself and let you know that I'm now fully potty trained!”

At this point of the routine I lift my skirt and show off my white “Alice in Wonderland” panties.

When I was finished I looked down at the ground in shame for several moments. I heard a few soft giggles, and looked up to see the older woman and two young girls with sandy blonde hair wearing ballet costumes behind her. They all broke into hysterical laughter as I stood there passively with my hands folded in front of me, resting on my skirt.

Marie spoke up, “Hello Mrs. Peters, may we come in? I'm sure Kimmy would love to play for a while with your daughters.”

Mrs. Peters replied, “Well, I guess so, they don't like playing with girls so much younger than them though...”

The two girls exploded in protest and dragged me through the house and out to the backyard so we could be alone while Marie and Mrs. Peters sat down to talk.

The girls, Sally and Katie, pestered me with questions about why I wanted to be a girl so much and how the transformation was done so convincingly. I admitted my ignorance about precisely how the procedures were done, and gave the answer I was instructed to about why I wanted to be a girl.

“Well, I was never able to live up to the responsibilities of being a man, so my mommy told me I should try being a girl instead, and I just knew she was correct right away!”

They decided to teach me how to play jump rope. They stood at either side of me laughing at my attempts to jump rope while keeping my panties from showing under my short skirt.

Katie laughed, “No Kimmy, you can't do both. We won't laugh anymore, just try not to wear such a short skirt the next time you come over to play!”

I resumed my jumping and did much better, they added a call and response rhyme for me to recite as I jumped. It wasn't so bad once they stopped laughing at me, it was kind of fun to jump around and try and keep rhythm with the rhyme.

As we returned inside I could hear Mrs. Peters asking, “But why didn't he get an operation? That just seems like a recipe for trouble.”

Marie responded, “Well, it's insurance. Why do you think she's so well behaved?”

“But what if he figures out it's an empty threat..?”

Marie laughed, “Oh, it isn't. And we have much worse ideas in mind if he steps out of line after THAT.”

I couldn't imagine how it could get worse than that, but I vowed not to find out.

Mrs. Peters actually started to laugh a bit. “Oh, you're just messing with me, Marie. No boy would dress like that if he didn't want to. You really had me going.”

Mrs. Peters turned as the three of us entered the kitchen. “Okay, Sally and Katie, say goodbye to your new friend, it's time for ballet class.”

We said our goodbyes and Marie led me outside. As we walked towards the next house Marie mused out loud, “Well, little sister, maybe we should sign you up for ballet classes too so you could have more time with your new buddies!”

I moaned at the thought of the terrible public humiliation of such a pastime, but there was nothing much left but humiliation in my life anyway. I was, after all, being led around the neighborhood diligently obeying the commands of my formerly little sister while wearing an outfit better suited for a Japanese school girl.

As I saw the next house I turned around and faced my sister, “NO MARIE! We can't go to that house! It's Mr. Jenkins...we have to skip it.”

I saw an evil, sadistic smile on her face.

Mr. Jenkins used to be a janitor at the local school, he had been accused of molesting young girls but had been acquitted at his trial. Most of the town still thought he was guilty and avoided him like the plague. She gave me a quick swat on the behind and and I squealed in pain.

“Don't be silly Kimmy, your big sister will be there the whole time. I won't let him do anything to you. But I know you heard me talking to Mrs. Peters before when you came in the house with your little friends, about how much worse it can get for you. No matter how childishly we make you act and look you are still 18, and there are a lot of men who would love to get to know a little loophole like yourself. You had better learn to be a good girl if you don't want to visit here more often.”

I trembled in horror as she led me to the house.

Mr. Jenkins smiled pleasantly as I offered my introduction and showed off my panties. He invited us right in. Marie offered to let me sit on “Uncle Charlie's” lap as we talked.

I sat on the disgusting man's lap and felt overcome with loathing. Of him. Of myself, perched obediently on his lap. His excitement was obvious. Everything about the man was repulsive. He looked and smelled terrible. It was clear he enjoyed having such a well mannered prissy little girl on his lap. We stayed for almost an hour and chatted, Marie carried on a conversation as if she had known him for years while I silently pleaded to her with my eyes for us to go.

Before we left Marie asked, “Kimmy, do you need the potty?”

I told her no. In truth I did have to go fairly urgently but I had new confidence based on my recent success that I could tough it out. I didn't want to stay in his house any longer than I had to.

As we left Marie stated simply, “You had better learn to become the most well behaved little girl in the world, I asked for his number and told him we might call if we needed a babysitter for you.”

I looked back and could see he was watching us walk away, I tugged down on my short skirt to try and keep my panties covered. He blew me a kiss before laughing and going back inside.

We arrived at the last house before today's ordeal would be over. A woman answered the door and clapped sarcastically at my proud declaration of continence.

She clearly knew something about the strange woman who had performed my transformation.

“Well Marie, Cindy really did an amazing job on her. Little Kimmy here should meet my son, he's such a troublemaker. Of course I'd never actually do something like this to him and he'd never let me...” she paused and smirked in my direction. “...But a little fear might help him to behave.”

They took me upstairs and introduced me to her son, a fourteen year old boy, and then left me alone with him to give him some time to consider the threat. They told him what had been done to me.

“You stupid faggot, get out of my room. I'm an only child and my mom wants grandkids too much to do something like that to me.”

He violently shoved me out the door and with my lack of strength I was helpless to fight back. I could have easily handled him before all this started even with my slight frame but now thanks to the mysterious treatments I had received I could be overpowered by anyone.

As I crashed to the ground on my back with my feet in the air and panties on display the most terrible thing happened. I wet myself, right there in the hallway. I left a large puddle on the carpet.

I ran downstairs in an absolute fit, screaming and crying about what the mean boy had done to me. Marie saw immediately I was wet. She stripped off my panties and stuffed them in my mouth to stop my loud tantrum. She grabbed me by my collar and yanked me over her lap for a spanking. My previous spanking with Cindy had at least had the protection of panties and tights, now I lacked even that. Whatever they had done to me made the pain so unbearable I nearly blacked out, she was not holding back at all like Cindy had done, mindful of what the changes had done to me.

She was wild with rage, you would think I had truly done something to hurt her.

“I EVEN ASKED YOU BEFORE IF YOU NEEDED TO GO YOU TERRIBLE LITTLE GIRL!” she shouted at me.

*SMACK SMACK SMACK*

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LEARNING OBEDIENCE?”

*SMACK SMACK SMACK*

She went on and on and on, she stopped lecturing and just seemed to be snarling and grunting in rage as she beat me. The pain overwhelmed me, I knew my wetting had set her off, but later on I would wonder, what was she really so angry about? Nothing I could have done wrong merited treatment like this.

So there I was, an 18 year old boy receiving a spanking from his little sister, tears in my eyes and wet panties in my mouth, while a woman I had never met before watched on in laughter.

My muffled crying continued all the way home, she wouldn't let me take the panties out of my mouth. Strangers we passed on the street looked in sympathy at the sad little girl, they had been gawking all day but now they looked at me with pity. I kept my head down and mouth shut to hide the shameful secret in my mouth and my hands locked on the hem of my skirt to protect my modesty.

“So much for your pride, little Kimmy.” said a vindictive Marie who would have to bring home news to Mommy that we would have to pay for a carpet cleaning. “Looks like no more big girl panties for you.”

Chapter 3: My Least Favorite Costume

I awoke, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings. It had been several months now, but it still took time to realize this nightmare was real.

The first thing I see when I awake is the pastel yellow bars holding me in the infantile prison, any jail would be better than this. Next I feel for the soft reassurance of the dolly I am hugging in my arms, and the warm comfort it brings me.

When they first changed me they had made a game of making me carry the doll Cindy had given me everywhere I went, waiting for me to slip up so they could scold me. After a while, they stopped playing. They realized I kept it in my arms all on my own. It was embarrassing needing such a childish, girlish comfort, but it was all I had. The only times I didn't keep Dolly near were when I was specifically instructed to leave her.

I didn't have to put on a show for them in the long hours they locked me in the crib to sleep. I just needed something to stave off the horrible loneliness and boredom late at night and early in the morning. They locked me in much longer than I could possibly sleep. Sometimes I couldn't sleep at all, unable to do anything but replay the day's torments in my head over and over. If I didn't have my doll to talk to and cuddle with my sadness and frustration would have overwhelmed me.

If you were watching me late at night, you would probably think I had already lost my wits. If you were watching me, you would see a little girl as she held a one sided conversation with her dolly about the horrible things her sisters and stepmother had made her do that day.

“I would certainly never do those things to you, Dolly!” she would insist.

This morning I was quiet. I hugged Dolly tightly and began to sniffle, thinking about how other boys my age snuggle with girls and have sex. I, on the other hand, could only snuggle with a doll while I was stuck in a diaper, plastic panties, and a pink Dora the Explorer nightshirt until my horrible family decided to let me out of my crib.

I was still dry for the moment, I was doing everything I could to resist the threat of full time diapers, but the truth was I had struggled to make it past two days without a daytime accident since that humiliating day months ago when I had earned my big girl panties only to lose them again before the day was out.

I couldn't go back to sleep now. If I did I would lose control and be wet when they found me. If I could prove I could go the night dry without any chances to leave the crib to use the potty, they couldn't force me into diapers during the day.

My anxiety and fear of that fate drove me away from sleep. I slept for maybe two or three hours a night now and spent the rest of my time talking to Dolly. The pressure on my bladder was miserable. It was torture, but I held firm.

Sometimes, as I waited in a tortured state between sleep and wakefulness, I would have nightmares that crossed the border from dreams into reality. With my eyes wide open I would feel a great pressure on my chest like the world was conspiring to hold me down. I was unable to move and unable to speak. I would hear indistinct whispers all around me, and somewhere out in the darkness I knew an evil presence lurked. I knew I was dreaming but couldn't make myself wake up, I wasn't even asleep. I had begged them to get me a nightlight. They laughed at me.

I heard activity outside of my room and I turned in my crib to face the door. Any minute now...

It was a truly titanic struggle to maintain my dry diaper, any adult locked in a crib for this many hours would have issues, and the treatment I had received had left me with bladder control nowhere near that of a grownup. I moved to a kneeling position and clutched at my groin through the bulky diaper and panties. An eternity passed, I prayed and prayed that one of my sisters would come to let me out and...

The door opened, it was my sister Marlena.

“Well, good morning little sis, are we dry this morning?”

I replied instantly while squealing in distress, “Yes Marlena, Pllllllllllllllllease let me out I need the potty!”

Marlena, the younger of my two sisters, was the nicest to me in relative terms. As long as I made an effort to act as girlish as possible she was pleasant and happy. She had always wanted a little sister and I played the part as best I could. There was no pleasing Mommy or Marie, they made every effort to torture me no matter what I did. Even when Marlena was angry, she didn't hurt me, she had her own ways of making me behave.

Marlena saw how close I was to losing control and quickly unlocked the crib. I waddled to the bathroom as fast as I could, Marlena had to race to catch up. She found me standing in front of the toilet with my legs crossed, dancing up and down and desperately grabbing my groin. I was not allowed to take off the diapers on my own. Marlena was again quick to act.

I lifted up my nightshirt, sat down in a plop and immediately began to empty my bladder. The feeling of relief was immense. Marlena clapped excitedly for me as I smiled in satisfaction and lifted my arms in victory.

“Looks like you keep your training panties today, no daytime diapers for you, Kimmy!” Marlena told me as she pointed at the pink package of disposable pullups on the bathroom counter.

My face fell as I stared at the package, the image on the front was a little girl in a pink nightshirt, with a big smile on her face, raising her arms in victory as she sat on her potty. My image in the mirror only a few moments ago had been nearly exactly the same. What was my victory here, again?

I stood up and Marlena held out a pair of the training panties for me to put on. Today, the pink training panties with the frilly leg openings featured Belle from Beauty and the Beast in her trademark yellow ball gown on the front and a floral design on the back. I pulled them up and Marlena led me back to my room, it was her turn to choose my outfit.

“Before I dress you, Kimmy, I have a special present for you. Wait here and cover your eyes!” Marlena announced as she left the room.

I stood there, dressed only in my training panties with my eyes covered as I waited for her to return. I heard footsteps and Marie laughing as she walked by my room. If that was the worst I got from her today I would count myself lucky.

Marlena returned and I could feel her moving in front of me, “Okay, open your eyes Kimmy!”

I was ready for anything, nothing much can surprise you after you wake up one day and find your gender and adulthood has been stolen from you. Marlena was smiling and holding a nude Barbie doll.

Marlena explained, “Barbie dolls were always my favorite toy when I was a little girl, you probably don't remember, but back in your old life when you were my older brother you gave this to me for my birthday with allowance money you saved up. Now that you're just a little girl like I used to be I thought I would return the favor. I know how much you love your dollies, so I thought you might enjoy this one too.”

She opened her arms for a hug, and I complied and told her “Thank You” as genuinely as I could manage. It was kind of sweet of her, in a way. I looked down at the naked Barbie quizzically, wondering exactly what I should do with it.

Marlena answered my unspoken question, “Oh, that was only half of your surprise, let me fix your hair first and I'll show you the rest.

I sat down as my sister fixed and rearranged my thick curls to her satisfaction, she added a sparkly plastic tiara. When she was done she had me close my eyes again and when she returned she was holding two matching dresses, one Barbie sized and one in a size that looked just right for me.

“When I was going through my things to find my old Barbie doll I dug out this old dress with the rest of the doll clothes. I don't remember where it came from but when I saw it I remembered how cute I always thought it was and how I'd always wished I had one just like it for me to wear. I knew you'd feel the same way so I had Mom special order it for you.”

It was a sleeveless ballerina dress, there were big lilac puffs at the shoulders. There was an image of Barbie in a tiara at the neck. The bodice was a silky solid pink on the sides with a pink and lilac floral design going down the center in a V-shape. Above the skirt there was a lilac sash with a big bow on the left. The skirt was several overlapping layers of a thin, glittery pink material.

She helped me into the dress and added a matching pair of ballet slippers. She put me in front of the mirror. Once again confronted with my reflection I felt intense humiliation and frustration and sadness and anger at my near total emasculation. I studied the outfit, as a positive the glittery skirt fell to just above my knees and wasn't poufed out like a tutu or so many of the dresses they made me wear. I wouldn't have to worry about my training panties showing.

But the illusion of my girlie status was so complete there was no way to feel good about it, they had reshaped my face, removed all the hair but that on my head, and added permanent makeup the day of my transformation. The intense training they had put me through in girlie body language and movements just made the situation worse. There was only one way anyone could possibly determine I was once a boy, and that would be to look in my panties. My height gave away that my age might be a bit older than the clothes indicate but no one would ever doubt I was a girl. I looked a bit like a short teenage girl who just never grew up.

If there was any path of resistance I would have taken it, but Marlena was my only benefactor so I had to put on a good show. Besides, the threat of losing that little bit of boyhood still left in my panties was constantly over my head. I wasn't sure if I believed it, I mean they had to end this sometime, but I couldn't take the chance.

I lisped my thanks and asked for help dressing my Barbie in her matching outfit which Marlena was glad to provide. Afterward, she gathered Mommy and Marie to watch me prance around my room with my Barbie while doing my best imitation of a ballet dancer.

Marie laughed at my efforts, “Oh, you're silly Kimmy, that isn't how you do it at all. I was right about needing to sign you up for classes.”

Mommy chimed in, “Okay girls, lets go downstairs and have breakfast and talk about our trip to the mall today.”

Fear hit me again and I felt dizzy, I was now the infamous little girl-boy around the neighborhood but the mall meant an entirely new crowd of people to meet.

Mommy explained, “Halloween is coming up soon, and we have to find the PERFECT outfit for little Kimmy. “

The hidden meaning of perfect was clearly, “the most embarrassing thing we can imagine.”

She continued, “Barbara down at the costume shop at the mall promised to give us some private time to pick something out and will even let Kimmy walk around the mall a bit to try out her outfits.”

I whimpered, this was going to be by far the most demeaning day yet, and that was saying a great deal. All of a sudden an idea hit me, “Mommy, I love my new ballerina outfit Marlena gave me sooo much, can't I just wear this for Halloween?”

Marlena smiled sweetly at me, “Oh, I think that's a great idea, it's obvious Kimmy adores her new outfit. Instead of the mall we could take her to the dance studio and sign her up for those classes you were talking about Marie.”

Seeing the day going from bad to worse I spoke up again before anyone else had a chance, “Oh, but wait, Mommy went to all this trouble to set this up and I'm sure she and Marie were so looking forward to dressing me up too!”

Marie laughed at my quick change of heart and patted my head condescendingly, “Just what I was gonna say little sis!”

The table was cleared and we prepared to set off to the mall. I requested the potty directly before we left and did my business. Marie demanded I repeat the performance from this morning Marlena had told her about. I had to put on a big smile and raise my arms while still on the potty before I could pull up my training panties.

As I pulled them up she gave me a warning, “You should celebrate every time you successfully use the potty and get to keep those pull-ups Miss Kimmy, you won't be staying out of diapers for long if I have anything to say about it.”

I vowed to fight as best I could manage in my reduced state. Having the occasional accident in my training panties was mortifying but constantly walking around all day every day with pee or poo dripping down my leg would be much worse.

Mommy added a pink cardigan on top of my Barbie dress and Marlena handed me the new doll in the matching outfit.

“Sorry I don't have the matching sweater, we can look for one at the mall.” she told me as we headed to the car.

I cried the entire car ride as Marie mercilessly taunted me about what an epic scene I was about to make and Marlena tried to distract me with my Barbie and tried to get me to play patty cake. I just wanted all of them to leave me alone for once.

Marlena tried to calm me, “Don't worry about what anyone else says, or about being embarrassed, you just be yourself, Kimmy!”

It was easy for her to say, it's harder to be yourself when you are an 18 year old boy forced into a caricature of girlhood. As we walked towards the mall Marie held my hand, she explained what I was to say if anyone expressed curiosity about my condition and had me rehearse it.

“Hello, pleased to meet you, My name is Kimmy. *curtsy* I used to be a boy but I knew I would never be a man, my mommy and my sisters suggested turning me into a little girl instead and I just knew they were right!”

We walked in on the opposite side of the mall from the costume store, so I had to repeat it many more times after that. My Barbie dress was now on full display with the sweater removed.

We stopped in a toy store so I could look for a matching sweater for my Barbie, which a sales clerk helpfully provided. Mommy also got me a Barbie themed tea party set. Marlena promised to join me and my dollies for a tea party sometime soon. She told me Marie was always a meanie older sister and would never join her when she was a little girl having tea parties.

As we made our way to the costume shop I suddenly felt a strong urge to pee again. I begged my family to let me go to the restroom but they said I could go to the one at the costume shop. It was one thing to hold my bladder while sitting still in a crib, but it was harder while being led through a mall with people gawking at me.

As we hurried along I tried to reach up my dress and grab my crotch to hold up the flow but Marie slapped my hand away. “That's a naughty, disgusting thing for a little girl to do!”

As we arrived in the store I was in a state of desperation, the owner Barbara was just finishing up with a customer and Mommy insisted we be polite and wait. I crossed my legs and did my pee dance, Marlena held my hand and squeezed it for support.

When Barbara was finally ready to help us I quickly did my introduction, “....my mommy and sisters suggested turning me into a little girl instead and I just knew they were right and...” I added, “...PLEASE MISS BARBARA MAY I USE YOUR POTTY?”

Barbara laughed at the hysterical former boy begging for a potty, “I'm sorry, Kimmy, but we don't have a potty in the store, you have to go out to the mall restroom...”

With tears in my eyes I urinated into my training panties, it was becoming clear my lack of control was exacerbated by stress and emotion. Luckily the panties contained the flow but I was forced to turn to mommy and announce through my crying, “Mommy, I had an accident. May I please have a new pair of training panties?”

Marie answered first, “Oh come on Kimmy, it's clear this potty training is a failure, why don't you just give up and wear diapers like the baby girl you are?”

A crowd had begun to form, those I had not introduced myself to personally heard the story from others and Marie had spread it around that I would be looking for a costume. Now the crowd was witness to a debate about my toilet training status and current wetness.

Marlena countered Marie, “It's not her fault, we didn't know there was no potty here, we could have gotten her to the other potty in time if we had gone when she asked. She's just in training, she needs our help and support.”

Mommy laid down the law, “Enough bickering, I don't have any diapers with me now so we'll just give her another set of training panties.” She stared right at me, “But if you have another accident today it's diapers until you can prove yourself worthy of those pull-ups little miss.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” I replied through my sniffles.

Marlena took me to the back room and helped me out of my wet pull-ups, there was no victory arm raising this time. She gave me a new pair to put on, in the same pink and floral design but these had Ariel from The Little Mermaid on the front.

When we returned to the store the door was closed and the windows blocked. Barbara explained that she had a costume for me to try on, and after that my sisters and Mommy would pick one out for me. After I was dressed in each one I would take a quick walk around the mall to see how the crowd reacted. I was stripped down to my panties and Barbara began dressing me in her costume.

They pinned up my hair and gave me a short blonde wig in a pixie style. This was followed up with a very short green dress and green fairy wings. I was given white slippers with a green poofy ball on the toes. They finished it off with a glittery wand with a star on the end for me to carry. I was the perfect little Tinkerbell.

There were gasps and applause as I stepped outside, it was clear Barbara knew what she was doing. Barbara coached me to wave my wand around and skip happily through the mall.

The Tinkerbell costume was pretty humiliating, but Marie was up next and I wasn't even close to done. Marie chose a “Madeline” costume, a simple blue schoolgirl dress with a red scarf and yellow hat. I was given black Mary Janes and frilly socks as well.

Marie was delighted with the result, “I think you look delightful with a schoolgirl look, Kimmy. Remember that pink sailor schoolgirl outfit you wore when you first met the neighborhood?”

How could I forget?

“It's just too bad you had to pee all over it and ruin our outing!” she angrily added.

How could I forget that, too? I rubbed my butt in remembrance of her vicious spanking.

Barbara had a fantastic idea for a big sister/little sister combination costume and gave Marie a nun's outfit to wear and a ruler. As we paraded around outside the crowd practically died of laughter as she swatted me on the behind with the ruler and I yelped in pain.

Marie pleasantly addressed the crowd, “THIS Madeline won't be sneaking away to cause any mischief!”

Marlena chose a Dorothy costume for me to try on next. She knew I had always had a crush on Dorothy when we used to watch “The Wizard of Oz” so she thought this would be a whole new way for me to appreciate her.

“Just like I told you in the car sis, you have to be yourself!” she explained.

She dressed up as Glinda the good witch and we left the store hand in hand singing “Follow the yellow brick road!”

I tried to click my ruby slippers together and wish to be a boy again, it didn't help.

When we returned to the store I was stripped down again to just my training panties as I awaited my Mommy's costume choice. After all the costumes I had tried on so far, I didn't think it could get worse. I imagined I had experienced degradation and shame in all their awful aspects and degrees. She revealed the costume and my jaw dropped at the audacity. I should not have been so shocked that my stepmother found a way to surprise me, a way to finally push me from unconsenting but submissive to their demands to finally refusing entirely to cooperate.

Marie saw the tantrum building in me as my muscles trembled and face turned red, she slyly moved one of the barriers from the windows so the crowd could get a taste. Of course my stepmother would be the one vindictive enough to pull something like this, without her greenlight none of this ever would have happened in the first place.

The costume she revealed was my old Boy Scout's uniform. You would think I wouldn't mind a chance to dress up as a boy for once, but you aren't thinking it all the way through. It was a vicious sort of mockery, because she knew there was no way I could pass as a boy in my new state no matter how they dressed me.

Just imagine it. It's Halloween night and the doorbell rings. You see a child, or is it a tween, in a Boy Scout's uniform. The legs are hairless, the face is distinctly feminine with cute pink lips and a button nose. You see stunning curly reddish hair. “Trick or Treat!” the child yells excitedly as her Mother smiles at you from behind her. The voice is high pitched and sweet. You can see the lacy waistband of pink disposable training panties peaking out from the top of the shorts. What a clever little girl, to borrow her brother's outfit as a costume, but she should have made more effort to look like a boy.

But with me, no effort would have been enough.

No matter what, it all combined to the picture of a totally femmy girl that wasn't even trying to pull off the costume. I hadn't looked like a crossdresser all day, my frilly outfits were just right for what I had become. Dressing up as a boy would be what looked out of place and wrong, my stepmother knew it and wanted to rub it in my face as hard as she could.

“No, I won't wear it.” I said in the most serious tone I could manage.

Mommy stalked towards me, “Do I have to spank you?”

I shouted back, “I DON'T CARE I'M NOT WEARING IT!”

Marlena was clueless as to what I was thinking and would probably never quite get it. Marie grasped the irony later but right now just wanted to see me be publicly spanked and abused. All the crowd saw from outside was that the boygirl who had been dressed in a string of ridiculously girly outfits all day and even now was standing in pink training panties without a single complaint was stamping her feet and screaming in protest against a simple, rugged boy's outfit. They re-blocked the window and the crowd wandered off.

Mommy tried to spank me into submission as usual but I wouldn't have it. Her spanking was nothing like Marie's. Mommy didn't let her rage get the better of her, she didn't lecture or threaten when she was doing it. She just took me over her knee and smacked me in an even tempo, she almost seemed bored with it. A world weary mother who had seen it all before and knew she would get her way.

Normally, when she was done all she had to do was ask if I had learned my lesson. I nodded, apologized, and did what I was told to avoid more blinding pain and humiliation. Not this time.

They all tried to gang up on me and force me into the outfit but even with my total lack of strength I kicked and fought and bit and snarled and scratched.

“THIS IS OVER! CHANGE ME BACK! CHANGE ME BACK! THEN I'LL WEAR IT!”

I collapsed in exhaustion on the floor as they gave up. Marlena came to me with a shocked look in her eyes, “What were you thinking?” she asked as she put me back in my Barbie dress. I was still too exhausted and busy wailing and crying to register anything that was going on around me.

Mom apologized to Barbara and herded us out of the store, “Looks like she won't be dressing up for Halloween after all, she'll still be in recovery.”

I cried myself to sleep in the back seat of the car. I thought I was on the way home to my nice safe crib, where I could commiserate with my dolly about the horrible people on the outside world and the intolerable schemes they had engineered for my torture.

When I awoke I was in familiar surroundings. I felt sedated but lucid. I was back at Cindy's house of horrors, chained to a table.

My stepmother stepped into my field of vision and I shouted, “Oh thank you Mommy for bringing me here to change me back...”

She laughed uproariously. “Oh Kimmy, my little stepdaughter, there's no going back for you. You just threw an epic fit to be kept out of boy's clothes. I don't know what message you thought you were trying to send.”

Panic began to grip me.

“Miss Kimmy, we warned you what would happen if you didn't behave. If you weren't obedient and submissive to our will. If you didn't take your spankings as a serious warning to change your ways. I don't make idle threats, when you wake up you will be 100% girl, and even more helpless than you are now, in body and in mind. Say goodbye to your balls, because we're about to snip them off. The last pathetic vestiges of your manhood will soon be no more.”

Cindy stuck a needle in my arm and I passed out, silently screaming. Silently cursing. Silently begging.

Six weeks later, I sit on a swing in the back yard on my first day home, trying to comprehend what has happened to me. I'm wearing a frilly white button up blouse and an extremely tight set of yellow shorts with white polka dots and no underwear. The shorts were Marie's idea, they let the world see the outline of my new vagina and the lack of any male genitalia. I try and rub the physical pain away, and the feelings I receive in response just make the psychic pain worse.

I cry openly as Marlena holds my hand and does her best to comfort me. “You make a great little girl Kimmy, you were right to refuse boy's clothes. It won't hurt as much soon and you'll be back to the care free little girl you were before that unpleasant time at the mall. I still owe you a tea party, remember?”

I smiled a bit at the thought of my dollies and my big sister Marlena, the only people in my house who don't seem to want to torture me. For a moment I started my usual self-loathing mental lecture about being an 18 year old boy receiving comfort from a doll...but then I remembered....

I'm not a boy anymore.

My pathetic crying regained intensity. Marlena helplessly tried to hug my pain away.

Later, Marie came outside holding my baby reins. “We have another big announcement to make to the neighbors Kimmy, and this time remember to ask for the potty when you need it!”

Chapter 4: I Scream

They told me that sometimes when I was locked in the crib I would suddenly wake up and bolt upright. I would scream like a banshee. They said my eyes were full of fear and panic. I would be sweaty and out of breath. My heart would race. They said I was having nightmares, but I never remembered them when this happened. Mommy spanked me as punishment for waking her, but I only knew it happened because some hours later I woke up with a sore bottom.

I was starting to develop dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. They took me to Cindy to have them removed, but there wasn't any permanent solution. They used makeup. I looked just as pretty as before.

My big sisters spent most of the day at school. This was a mixed blessing. On the one hand for most of the day I was free of being tortured by Marie, but I was also left at the mercy of my terrible mother without any reprieve at all from my nicer sister Marlena.

Every morning Mommy and I stood by the door and said our goodbyes. Marlena patted my head and encouraged me to have a fun day, and Marie painfully pinched my cheek and told me to behave for Mommy. It was tradition.

Some days were better than others, this one was one of the worst.

The day started as usual, with a frantic run to the bathroom to prove my dedication to potty training. I was forced to watch myself perform my bodily functions in the mirror directly opposite the toilet, now fully as a girl. A few times since the torture started I had snuck away to urinate standing up as a subtle act of rebellion, I no longer had that option.

It's impossible to describe how the operation had mutilated me, not just in the obvious physical sense, but psychologically and emotionally. A psychiatrist would probably give anything to examine someone like me. What happens to a mind when you force a person to give up their true age and make them act like a child and enforce childish behavior with torture and body modification? What happens when you alter someones gender, one of the core pillars of their identity, against their will? What happens when you make humiliation and debasement the only experiences a person knows?

The truth was, after the operation that castrated me and gave me girl's genitals, I wasn't that angry. There was not much inner rage and venom. They had done so much to me already it kind of seemed like just one more crime among many. Instead, I was calmer and more docile. I almost felt serene in a way, but it was the serenity of the lobotomized.

I came to accept that they had succeeded in turning me into a little girl. I didn't like it. I didn't think I had secretly wanted it all along or anything, but I gave up trying to fight it. Every time I fought things got worse. I vowed to simply behave as the good little living doll they wanted and live my life as best I could. Besides, by this point I thought like a little girl and I liked the things they like. My mannerisms and behavior were totally girlish thanks to the violent training that was now fully ingrained in me. I looked like a little girl from head to toe and I had the genitals of a little girl.

I am a little girl.

In fact, it was disturbing how much I was beginning to like girly things. Ever since they had me fixed I seemed to really enjoy playing with my Barbies and other dolls and watching my Disney princess movies more and more. I felt light headed when I looked in the mirror and thought I looked particularly pretty. Despite the promise of extreme humiliation I felt more and more like I would really like to take the ballet classes Marie had promised to sign me up for.

That was, in fact, what was going to happen later today. Mommy felt that I needed to get out and socialize with other little girls more and that ballet classes would be the perfect way to do it. I was dressed in a snugly fitting sleeveless lavender leotard, white tights, and pink sneakers. In a separate bag I had a lavender tutu and my ballet slippers. I had on a light pink zip up hoodie with Jasmine from Alladin on the front. The bottom of the leotard was left exposed, however, to show off my lack of male genitalia. She let me wear panties because I guess she figured it would be more fun to humiliate me with my emasculated crotch instead of humiliating me with bulky training panties to show off my continence issues. It was a lot of pressure to make sure I didn't wet myself.

It was going to be a long day though. Our first stop was at the grocery store. As usual I was self conscious and scared. My outfit wasn't as childish as a lot of what I wore but that almost made it worse. At first glance you might think I was a short teenage girl but the prissy sausage curled hair and Disney hoodie, not to mention the way I would obediently squeak, “Yes, Mommy” to every request made it clear the first impression wasn't precisely correct.

In any case I was well known at the grocery store. I went shopping with Mommy every week. Everyone at the store knew me and their faces brightened in smiles when they saw me.

“Good morning, Kimmy! You look so cute today!”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Our favorite little customer! It looks like she's taking ballet now!”

“I am, thank you, sir.

“Hello Kimmy, remember to behave for your Mommy, it would be a shame if she had to spank you right here in the store again!”

“I will.”

Mommy loved to send me around the store to pick up stuff for her, she made sure to find the things on the list that were the heaviest since my total atrophy of strength made me barely able to even handle such items.

I was carrying a basket with two gallons of milk and a watermelon when I dropped the whole load out of exhaustion. A man who was walking by offered to help me and I politely replied as I was trained, “Thank you, sir.”

He replied sarcastically, “No problem, that's what men are for little girl!”

I felt like the biggest pansy in the world as we returned to Mommy with the man carrying my basket for me. She thanked him and they struck up a conversation, his name was John and he was a lawyer, they really seemed to hit it off.

He told her it was a good thing I was starting ballet class since it would help me develop a little muscle tone, “Modern girls can't just sit around looking pretty all day expecting men to do all the work for them!”

“Yes sir, thank you sir, I can't wait to start ballet.” I dutifully replied.

He patted me on the head as he left, he had even gotten Mommy's number, she told me they would be going out on a date. He was very handsome and looked rich. Mommy had been living off my father's money ever since he died, I don't think she wanted to work.

“It's too bad you're just a little girl Kimmy, because you seem to be great at attracting men!”

Our next stop was the hair salon where Mommy was having her hair done while I waited and played with my Barbie doll. I had to explain myself many times to various women who came in using Mommy's script.

“My name is Kimmy, I used to be a boy but my Mommy and sisters agreed I would never be a proper man, they suggested turning me into a little girl instead and I just knew they were right! I don't have any more boy parts left and now I get to start ballet!”

Reactions varied from disgust, to laughing fits, to blank disbelief. I ignored them and went back to my own little world playing with my Barbie doll.

When Mommy was done her hair stylist begged to have a chance to style my hair for me but she refused.

“She absolutely adores her curls, I can't imagine her any other way!” Mommy told her.

It was true. She had actually asked me about it before, but I refused. Not because I was in love with the style or anything, but it was really high maintenance and that was a lot of work for Mommy. It was just a subtle way for me to take revenge. I was a little girl so they would never let me handle a curling iron by myself. She liked the hair because it was humiliating, I liked it because the extra work got on her nerves.

I glanced in the mirror and smiled at my reflection. Yes, that was why.

“I like your hair too, Mommy.”

That earned me a smile and a pat on the head from the stylist. Mommy just rolled her eyes at my obvious attempt to suck up to her.

Soon we were back in the car and Mommy made an announcement. “Kimmy, listen to me very carefully. You have been very well behaved lately but when you threw that tantrum in the mall you made it clear that when push comes to shove we can't spank you into submission any more.”

I smiled in pride at my one act of bravery in recent memory. She saw this in the mirror and angrily broke my daydream.

“AND WHERE DID THAT TANTRUM GET YOU LITTLE MISS GELDING!?”

My smile vanished at the reminder.

She continued, “...and I promise you we can do more terrible things to you the next time you reject my authority, and you KNOW I keep my promises.”

“Yes, Mommy. I'll be a good girl.” I submissively replied.

“Anyway, when you were in recovery from your operation Cindy suggested we also try some positive reinforcement. She used a series of drugs and hypnotic sessions to make some subtle alterations in your mind. Have you noticed anything yet, Kimmy?”

I was fuming with anger at the violation of my mind. They had already achieved total domination of my body, now they were coming for my soul. When they were done there would be nothing left of me. I told her about the feelings I had been having, about starting to like girly things.

She replied with a smirk, “Oh no, we didn't do anything like that. I'm glad you're finally starting to adjust to your new life though.”

The next thing she said took me totally by surprise, before I could even register the news that I was starting to like girly things all all my own.

She said in a sweet voice totally unlike her, “Do you want to stop for ice cream before class Kimmy?”

Something in me instantly changed, for some reason I felt like I wanted ice cream more than anything else on the planet.

“Ohhh Yes! Mommy please let me have ice cream! Pleassssssssssse!” I was barely able to contain my excitement, I was hopping up and down in my seat, I felt like I might pee myself I was so exuberant.

We pulled into the Dairy Queen parking lot and I ran inside. I felt crazy, I was hugging myself and twisting back and forth. I couldn't still myself at all. The girl behind the counter could not believe what she was seeing, a girl almost as tall as her in a ballet outfit acting like a toddler at the prospect of a treat from her mommy. I didn't care at all what anyone thought, I just wanted my treat.

We sat in a booth as I ate my sundae. It was ecstasy. I was in heaven. Every part of me felt alive. I felt light as a feather, like I could just fly away, I became giggly and wide eyed. For some perverse reason, I found myself beginning to become mildly aroused as well. I started to blush and breath slightly heavier. This was the first time I had experienced arousal since the operation. It was very different, more internal. It was a delicious throbbing sensation in my new vagina.

Prepared for the way the ice cream would make me feel, Mommy noticed and explained. “Well, we can't have you being attracted to girls any more, not that any girl would want something like you. We thought about making you like men, that would have been amusing, but the truth is you're just a little girl so you shouldn't be attracted to anyone like that. You still need to have a little fun though, so we decided to just give you a sweet tooth.”

Sweet tooth was a bit of an understatement. I still can't believe the power they had over my mind, how easily it would have been for them to make me think and feel whatever they want. It was truly disturbing, but I didn't think about any of that at the time. Who could possibly imagine that they could simply flip a switch and make me not like girls any more. I had certainly noticed I had stopped fantasizing about women, but I assumed that was because of what they did to my crotch, not my brain.

Mommy continued, “The more girly you act, without prodding, the more likely you are to be rewarded. The more quick and willing you are to obey your sisters and me, the more likely you are to be rewarded. If you disobey, you don't want to know what else we can do to you if we want. That won't be a problem though, will it?”

“No Mommy!” I replied as quick as I could, to show my willingness.

I had experimented with various drugs in high school and with booze. Whatever they had done to me, ice cream was now better than all of them in my mind. It didn't matter how much I had to embarrass myself or how much abuse I took, I would do almost anything to have more. I happily skipped back out to the car and we headed towards the ballet studio.

We arrived a bit early. There were several girls stretching and warming up. Mommy told me to put on my ballet slippers and my tutu and to go make friends. She went to talk with some other parents who were also going to watch the class. I had no problem with the shoes but the tutu was another issue.

As the girls began to notice me one of them said, “Are you sure you're in the right class? This is a beginner class for little girls.”

Before I could answer another girl I recognized spoke up, “Oh, that's Kimmy, she used to be a boy but now she's a little girl. Don't worry about her height, Jean”

It was Katie and her sister Sally who lived in my neighborhood. I had come over to play with them many times. Despite the circumstances I was glad to see girls I knew, it would make the whole situation go more smoothly.

Jean had a mean look on her face, “That's disgusting, boys shouldn't dress up like girls.”

I wanted to smack her even though I agreed but my mother was watching and I had to be on my best behavior, plus I wasn't sure if I could take her in a fight in my condition. Katie and Sally helped me put my tutu on, I noticed that I was the only one wearing one.

Sally explained, “Those are mostly for performances Kimmy, you can wear one for class if you want but most girls don't.”

Great, not only was I about to prance around in my first ballet class but I would look more girly than even the other little girls.

Aside from the intense humiliation, the class was actually kind of fun. It was the first time I had gotten any decent chance to exercise and really stretch out since they had started turning me into a girl. I spent so much time locked in a crib that I felt suffocated.

The girls took turns helping me out with each new position and dance move, they were really nice, aside from Jean. Towards the end of the class Jean was coaching me and I kept messing up and having to start over. She was getting extremely frustrated, as was I. Just imagine, the pathetic remnant of what was once an 18 year old boy taking ballet instructions from a little girl and failing miserably.

She glared at me, “This is why boys shouldn't pretend to be girls and dance ballet!”

In frustration she grabbed my hair and tossed me to the ground and kicked me, I shrieked. The treatments had left me with so very little strength that I could not possibly fight off a fit little girl. The teacher bolted over and escorted her out to a very angry looking mother. Sally and Katie helped me up.

Katie said, “She's such a bully, don't worry, nobody likes her.”

As we were leaving Jean's mother stopped us and made Jean apologize for bullying me. She also said that Jean was having a sleepover party that night and invited me to come. This was the last thing I wanted but mommy agreed. We went home and ate dinner, I told my sisters about my day and showed off some of my new ballet moves. They were both suitably impressed.

Later, Marie took me to Jean's house. I was dressed for bed in a Hello Kitty nightie and fuzzy pink slippers. I had a Barbie sleeping bag and a change of clothes as well. Jean's father answered the door.

He took Marie aside and told her, “Look, I know my wife promised...this girl...could come to the party. But I'm really uncomfortable with the idea of an 18 year old boy who dresses like a girl at my daughter's party. They are going to be alone all night....”

Marie laughed, “Oh, I know what you're worried about, you think she's some kind of sex pervert or something.” She called me over. “Kimmy, lift your skirt.”

I obeyed my sister and lifted my skirt, showing off my white panties with the red hearts for this stranger as she continued, “She has been totally fixed. She doesn't think about girls that way at all, and even if she did she has no equipment to do anything about it with. Besides, as far as I heard the only reason she's here is because your daughter beat her up to start with. Kimmy probably has more to worry about from her tonight than the other way around!”

I was granted admittance. It was hell. I had no allies there. These were all Jean's friends and there was no Sally and Katie to protect me. I was the center of entertainment for the night. They teased me and called me names. They made me practice ballet for them over and over and pulled my hair or tripped me when I messed up. They ransacked through my bag and found several pairs of training panties Mommy had slipped in without telling me. They seemed like they were going to die of laughter. They called me a baby and a bedwetter and made me strip off the rest of my clothes and put the training panties on. I cried in the corner and just wished they would get bored and leave me alone, they didn't.

They made me stand in the corner, dressed only in my pull-ups, while they played a board game. I screamed and begged to be left alone to go to sleep, but they ignored me and took frequent breaks from their game to taunt me.

When it was time for sleep they all slept in Jean's big queen sized bed, but made me sleep on the floor in my sleeping bag.

“I don't want some sissy bedwetter ruining my sheets!” Jean told me and the other girls agreed.

When I woke up I had wet myself, and the rest of my clothes and underwear had disappeared. It was a cold trip home, in nothing but my wet training panties, sitting on a towel. Marie promised me a good hard spanking when I got home for losing my clothes.

I just wished I could have some more ice cream.

Chapter 5: Daddy

Like every night, I was locked in my crib wearing a diaper and a childish pink nightgown with only my favorite doll for company. I had long ago lost the ability to even guess at the time when I laid awake and couldn't sleep. Minutes or hours, I had no idea. Sometimes I watched the dawn through the subtle light leaking past the covered windows. This night, that time seemed far away. Like every night I relived the humiliations I had encountered that day and developed new anxieties for the next.

Yesterday in ballet class my tormenter Jean had stolen and hidden my bag while I wasn't looking, well aware of the way my mother would punish me for again being careless with my clothes.

“Don't be so careless, sissy-boy!” she had taunted me as my mother dragged me out of the studio.

Tomorrow I had my first ballet recital and my mommy's boyfriend John would be coming over for dinner. Ever since they had met, thanks to me, he had shown an unusual interest in me. It got even more intense once he found out who I used to be. I couldn't tell why he was so obsessed, but I assumed it was disgust at how a boy could be reduced to living as a little girl for the rest of her life. It was bad enough being tormented by my family, I didn't need a man around as a constant reminder of what I could have been.

I heard my doll comfort me. “Don't worry Kimmy, you still have me and Marlena, and we would never do anything to hurt you.”

I was startled by the voice. Was it a voice or in my head? Of course it was in my head.

I started to hear more as my sense of anxiety and fear grew and grew. I could here Mommy and Marie taunting me and threatening a spanking for some imagined offense. I could hear Marlena trying to comfort me but being drowned out. I heard Jean calling me a bedwetter and a sissy. The noise inside my head grew louder and louder into a true cacophony as I began to cry and wail.

I had no idea what was happening to me. My mind was in turmoil from the strange things they had done with hypnosis and just through the stresses of this life of horror they put me through.

Some time passed and the voices began to quiet. I drifted on the edge of sleep and saw images in my dreams. At first I saw a boy I vaguely recognized, with short brownish red hair. The image upset me and it floated away. Next, I saw a pathetic little girl crying and whimpering as bigger girls teased and harassed her. I could identify with that. Next I saw only a vague shape, a young girl in a stained dress. I was overcome by waves of rage and madness, whatever the outward appearance of what I was seeing, inside it was a monster. I wet my diaper and felt the most extreme fear and terror I had ever felt in my life.

I must have screamed, the next thing I recall Marlena had me out of my crib. I was crying as she gave me a tight hug and reassured me that it was only a nightmare. I clung to her and sobbed, the images were floating away but the feelings were still with me. Mommy was in the doorway of my room.

She chastised me, “You stupid little girl, you know you aren't allowed out of your crib at night. Marlena, put her back to bed this instant.”

I looked to my sister with wide, begging eyes and she came to my rescue. “Mother, she had a nightmare again, these things happen to little girls. Let her sleep with me, just this once. She has her recital tomorrow and she has to be well rested so she can do her best.”

If it had been some daytime offense I'm sure my stepmother would have refused, but she was tired and didn't seem to want to deal with me so she agreed.

Marlena changed my diaper and made me promise not to wet again. She took me to her room and we cuddled up together. It was the first time I had been in a proper bed in ages. I felt safe and warm and none of my night time terrors returned.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Marlena asked.

I sighed contentedly and shook my head. I drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

I awoke to Marie banging on the door. “Come on Kimmy, time to practice before you get dressed.”

Marie also took ballet. She was of course in way more advanced classes than I was. In addition to simply doing it to humiliate me, she had encouraged the classes so she could have a little sister to tutor. Marlena had always refused to take the classes and it was part of the reason she and Marie never really got along that well.

It was easy to understand why Marlena would want to stay away from an overbearing older sister like that. Marie was a brutal tutor. She made me practice every moment of the routine for the recital until I had it seared into my brain and muscle memory. Every mistake along the way led to a brutal slap across my ass with a riding crop.

This last run through she had me do was merely a formality and she was quite satisfied with my performance. My rhythm and grace were outstanding. I was a truly becoming an elegant dancer.

The truth was I was definitely enjoying my ballet classes. The teacher really liked me and did her best to make sure no one would pick on me. In return I tried to be the best dancer I could be. Thanks to my own hard work and Marie's enforced practice, I was by far the best little dancer in my class, which drove my friends Sally and Katie into admiring jealousy and my nemesis Jean in to a constant rage. While I danced, as long as I was away from Marie's crop, I lost myself in the music and the rhythm and the athleticism of the moment. All my troubles seemed to float away. They had signed me up to make my tormented life worse, but it really made it a little better.

Marie gave me words of encouragement, “Now remember Kimmy, I'll be watching you. If you do your routine as well as you did just now I'll buy you an ice cream after!”

As the mental conditioning took over I lost myself in an involuntary reaction and hugged my hated sister, gibbering my promises to do well and hopping up and down with excitement.

“Good little girl, now go and take your nap before you get ready.”

Ahh, naptime. Since I hardly slept at night I would often doze off during the day into little cat naps. One moment I would be playing dolls with Marlena, she would leave for a moment and when she came back to the room I would be curled up in a ball on the couch, hugging Dolly with an expression of calm and serenity on my face. She would set a light blanket on me and walk away. Once she took a picture to show me what I looked like. I was adorable.

On days when I didn't have a chance to do this they noticed I became fussy and cranky, prone to having more tantrums. They decided to formalize a one hour naptime for me every day. I didn't mind. It was good for me. I didn't sleep enough and during the days I didn't have nightmares like I did when I was locked in my crib.

Today I had slept well for once and I was very excited about the recital. I couldn't fall asleep. I laid on the couch for the requisite hour enjoying the calmness around the house as my family gave me peace for my one hour of daily relaxation. After an hour Mommy told me it was time to get ready.

Mommy did my hair for me. My normally long, free, curly auburn hair was put up in a very tight bun. The process was extremely painful to me and I cried and complained as she did it.

She looked at me in exasperation, “Really, Kimmy? Little girls go through this all the time and handle it better. Stop being such a baby and sit still!”

I bit my lip and let her continue, stewing at the admonition to not be a baby from the women who had me altered so it was a struggle not to pee my panties and kept me in diapers or pull-ups whenever possible.

Three pink flowers and a long flowing ribbon were added at the top of my head to complete the style. Next, Marlena took over to do my makeup. It was a much more gentle process and we laughed and giggled as she did her work. Marie evaluated my hair and make up and judged it acceptable. I was put into pink tights and pink capri sweat pants, a pink t-shirt and sneakers, and my Jasmine hoodie. They would finish dressing me after we arrived.

In the car Marie made me recite the routine step by step, which I did without mistakes. She continued to give me every piece of advice she could.

“Remember, ignore those other clumsy little girls and just do it right. They're all worthless dancers aside from Sally and Katie.” she told me as we arrived at the mall.

The recital would be on a stage in a central area of the mall during the busiest shopping hours. I was sure to make a spectacle of myself. I was so convincingly girly no one could tell I was a boy, but I was clearly too tall for such a beginner class and as usual I would be forced to make my introductions around the mall so everyone would be aware of who I was.

Marie had told my teacher that I would show up early to give out flyers to get as many people as possible to come for the performance. While Mommy and Marlena shopped Marie escorted me around to hand out the flyers and tell everyone who I was.

“Hello, my name is Kimmy. I used to be a boy but my Mommy and sisters and I decided I would make a much better little girl. My ballet class is having a recital later, please come and watch!”

I had been through this kind of self humiliation enough times that it didn't bother me anymore, I felt like I was outside my body, just floating along as I watched myself be embarrassed. I watched as people reacted with disgust, or laughter, or admiration of me for being brave enough to be “myself”, or just sheer confusion.

Some didn't believe it was possible, “YOU were a boy? Is this some kind of joke?”

I felt nothing as I floated along, this was all happening to someone else, or it was a dream.

I snapped out of my depersonalized state as I saw a face I recognized. Barbara from the costume store. It brought back terrible memories of the first time I had been publicly humiliated in this mall and the last day of my life with male genitalia. I felt a stab of remembered pain down below.

She smiled as we entered the store. “Hello again, Kimmy. You look lovely and happy as could be. I hope no more meanies have been trying to force you into nasty, rough boys clothes again.”

I drifted away again as I saw myself answering with proper respect, “No Barbara, I'm a happy pretty little girl and everyone knows it. I'm having a ballet recital later. I would love it if you would come.”

She was clearly delighted and promised to come. “Oh and Kimmy, I have a gift for you. I was going to show it to you last time you came after the other costumes but our visit got...cut short.”

She went to the back of the store and retrieved a box. “I had it specially made just for you. You can try it on later after the recital. I don't want you to get your hair or makeup all frazzled trying on different things before your big debut!”

I thanked her and gave her a hug as was expected of me. We said goodbye and moved on.

With all the flyers handed out we made our way towards the performance area and entered the dressing room. I greeted my best friends Sally and Katie with hugs and air kisses to avoid messing up our makeup and we giggled in excitement for the upcoming performance before being whisked away by our guardians to finish getting ready.

I was stripped down to just my tights as Marie helped me into the dress. The underwear and tutu were built in so all I had to do was step in and pull the up the thin flesh colored shoulder straps. The costume had the appearance of being very low cut for a little girl, only acceptable as a performance costume, too immodest otherwise.

It was very low cut. There were poufy loose fitting openings for the arms halfway between the elbow and shoulders. It was pink along the top and a pastel aquamarine in the midsection with a crisscrossing lace trimmed pink ribbon down the center. There was a huge pink bow at the point where the bodice met the tutu, which was a poufy pink. Marie tied an aquamarine ribbon around my neck with a big bow in the back to complete the outfit.

She took me to the mirror. I looked like the most perfect, prim and proper little ballerina you could ever dream of. I thought back to my old Barbie ballerina outfit. That was dress up, this was the real thing. I twirled around and did a few moves in front of the mirror to make sure everything was in order. I was past being embarrassed. I wanted to do my best and earn my ice cream.

I joined the rest of my class as the teacher reminded us of our instructions. I had it all memorized perfectly already. I looked at the other little girls and felt a strange sense of satisfaction. They were wearing identical outfits but I really felt like I was the most pretty in it. I peaked out behind the curtain and saw my family in the front row, and John was with them. I felt a moment of doubt at the display I was about to put on in front of this man I was sure despised me. He was probably only here because Mommy had asked him. I decided it was too late to think about it, it wasn't like I had a choice in the first place.

The music for the recital was from a ballet called Giselle, I had no idea what it was about but Marie had told me she would show me a video some time. I just knew I liked the music. We pranced onto the stage and took our positions. I was in the center, both because of my height and my clear skill advantage over the other girls. Sally and Katie were to each side. We three did beautifully. There were gasps from the audience. The novelty of the story of the boy-girl ballerina took a backseat to the grace and talent we displayed. Most of the rest of the class was not doing as well. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jean trip and nearly fall off the stage. Everyone seemed fixated on the three of us though, aside from Jean's parents who I spied covering their faces.

The smile on my face was bright and wide and unforced.

I was one with the music and my best friends. When it was over I wished it could have gone longer. The applause was enthusiastic and sincere as we curtsied in appreciation. I was free in that moment. I had no concern for the humiliation of yesterday or the anxiety for tomorrow. It was that moment I decided I was meant to be a girl and I loved it. I had no illusions about the torture they had put me through. It was clearly their intention to make me live a life of humiliation and hatred, not to make me self-actualize, but I just scored that as a victory for me over adversity.

Marie met me backstage and I saw genuine respect in her eyes. She congratulated me for my performance and promised me a huge serving of ice cream. I hopped up and down in joy, squealed in glee and could hardly keep still. Marie reminded me that I had to change into the outfit Barbara had given me. She opened the box and showed me.

It was a Little Bo Peep costume. It came with frilly pink pettipants with white lace and a knee length petticoat. The skirt was white with pink polka dots. It came with a large pink bonnet, a shepherds hook with a pink ribbon, and a stuffed sheep. Marie let my hair down and helped me into the costume, adding the bonnet last. In addition there were frilly white socks and pink Mary Janes with a two inch heal. This was my first time in any sort of non-flat footwear, but I loved how they made me feel as I strutted back and forth for Marie. In my new acceptance and exuberance for my girlishness I twirled in front of the mirror and swooned at how utterly cute I looked.

We left the dressing room and headed back into the mall. I saw Mommy, Marlena, John, and Barbara all in a group. Marlena congratulated me and gave me a hug, she complimented me on my new outfit, much to the delight of Barbara. John surprised me. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a huge bouquet of flowers. He seemed genuinely admiring. Either I had misjudged him or he was a fantastic actor. They took loads of pictures as I struggled to hold on to my shepherds crook and sheep in one hand and flowers in the other. People from the audience came by and complimented me on how well I did and took even more pictures of the smiling little girl.

On the way out of the mall Marie made good on her promise and got me an ice cream cone. I had never felt this happy in my life. All the positive attention, the exhilaration of doing well and evading punishment, and the brainwashing that had turned ice cream into an amazing drug for me combined into an astounding euphoria. My face became sore from the unfamiliar feeling of constant, genuine smiling.

As I sat on a bench taking slow, careful licks of ice cream to draw out the hypnotically enhanced pleasure for as long as possible I saw my ballet teacher talking to my mother. Sally and Katie were there too, with their mother. They glanced over at me but they knew me well enough to know it was unwise to distract me from my ice cream. I vaguely heard the teacher telling Mommy that Sally, Katie, and I would be promoted to a more advanced class. My pleasure bubbled up even more knowing Jean would be left behind.

I saw John watching me as I took my dainty licks. He looked confused, but Marie told him something and he nodded in understanding.

I must have dozed off in the car from all the excitement, the lack of a nap catching up to me, because when I awoke I was back home on the couch hearing cheery voices from the other room. Marie came and led me into the dining room. Mommy was showing off a huge diamond ring to Marlena.

Mommy smiled and told me the news, “Kimmy, John has just proposed to me and I accepted. You have a new Daddy! Isn't that great news? You'll get to be the flower girl at the wedding!”

I pouted and stamped my foot and sniveled my reply “But Mommy, I don't like him. I don't want a Daddy.”

Mommy glared at me with building rage. “Kimmy, I sure hope you want to be a good little girl and apologize right now and go hug your Daddy.”

I stamped my foot again.

Marie shook her head, “Looks like the prima ballerina has gotten a bit full of herself with all the attention and fun today. Forgetting her place in the family maybe. And what happens to little girls who aren't obedient?”

Mommy gestured for me to come forward for punishment but John interjected. “No, no. I'm the man of the house now and it looks like this house has long needed a real man to lay down the law. Kimmy, you have one last chance. Come here and apologize or else.”

I was still feeling the high from earlier. I felt like nothing in the world could stop me. I turned around in a huff and made to run away. He grabbed me before I made two steps and pulled me over his lap as I kicked and struggled.

It began to dawn on me what a huge mistake I had just made and I tried to correct myself. “NO DADDY! NO PLEASE DADDY I LOVE YOU I WANT YOU TO MARRY MOMMY PLEASE DON'T SPANK ME!!” I broke down in tears as I yelled it but he held me firm over his lap.

He raised up my Bo Peep skirt and exposed my pettipants. He rubbed my bottom and sighed. “Little girl, it's time you learned real discipline. I know your mother has tried but it takes the firm hand of a man to truly tame a spoiled, bratty little girl.”

To emphasize his point he gave me a strong, super firm slap on the behind. It was like nothing I had ever felt. My spankings were always painful thanks to my treatments and Marie and Mommy never held back much but this was something else. He was a large muscular man. Normally I could squirm and dodge a bit and sneak my hands behind to block a blow or two, but now I was totally immobile aside from my kicking feet in their fancy new shoes.

WHACK. The impact on my behind sounded like the crack of a whip. There was no give at all in his hand. I could imagine shacking hands with him and having my hand crushed even when I was an eighteen year old boy.

He was slow and deliberate, I had time to think and cry and beg between each slap. It was nothing like the wild rage of Marie or the constant drumbeat Mommy laid down. He was patient and firm.

There was a loud WHACK and a girlish scream in response.

After each blow he took his time to let me anticipate the next and scolded me more and more. “Little girl, you will respect your parents and your big sisters. When we ask you something you will promptly and happily respond.”

Another loud WHACK and a pained squeal and kicking feet.

“Your duty is to look pretty and do as we say, nothing more.”

A hard slap followed by whimpering and moaning and begging.

He angrily pulled down my pettipants and exposed my naked bottom. With that minimum protection gone it got even worse.

As he continued I began to notice something that started to truly horrify me. With each blow, each scolding, each second where he sighed and took in the screaming, crying, and kicking little girl on his lap...I could feel his dick getting harder and harder, poking into my chest.

He began to give up the slow pace and sped up while continuing to scold me. I was rocked back and forth on his lap and I sensed him moaning a bit in pleasure. He panted, apparently feeling himself begin to lose control, and set me on the ground. I was ordered to stand in the corner for an hour before bed which I did with my pettipants still around my ankles and my tears flowing nonstop.

I had come to a realization as he spanked me about what this was all about. He wasn't here for my mother, he was here for me. How many times had he watched the prissy little girl in the leotard bend over and try and pick up the heavy basket in the grocery store before he came over to help and weasel his way into my life? How delighted he must have been to watch me prance around in my immodest ballet outfit. How wild he must have felt watching my tongue slowly work on my ice cream cone. I knew exactly how he felt about having me over his lap with my ass exposed.

I went to bed that night with a whole new set of problems. My hopes had been so high, I told my doll. I accepted being a little girl and knew it was right and Marie would surely lay off me now that I was such a fantastic little ballerina in her image but things were just getting worse. They always got worse. I drifted in and out of sleep.

The light turned on. It hurt my eyes and I reflexively slammed them shut. I heard him breathing heavily. The crib was unlocked and he lifted me out. I opened my eyes and they instantly began to widen in horror. He was nude. His large erect penis was on full display.

He held a bowl of ice cream in one hand and with the other pushed me to my knees. “Your sister Marie told me how much you like ice cream. I just loved watching you lick it today. Why don't you show me again and I'll let you have this bowl later?” he said as he gestured towards his cock.

I felt confusion. They had brainwashed me to have a practically sexual and addictive relationship with ice cream, but they had also brainwashed me into asexuality. My brain was clashing with conflicting impulses, my need to be obedient to earn my ice cream, my natural disgust with the idea of being involved sexually with a man, my now unrestrained love of femininity...He saw my distress and confusion, and decided to make the decision simple.

He stepped forward and slipped his warm, hard, slippery cock into my cute pink lips. The taste was revolting and the humiliation hammered at me, he simply held me, moving his cock around in my mouth to let me get used to the feeling, and then pulled it out.

“Now, little girl, lick it like it's ice cream.”

I began to float away from myself, it was like a dream, I watched. The little girl took dainty lick after lick, swirling her tongue around on the man's cock. He looked down in happiness at the obedient cocksucker.

I licked and licked. When he sensed I was getting tired he jammed his cock into my mouth again and humped my face. It was horrifying. I floated away from my body again unable to handle the oral intrusion and the bushy crotch slamming hard into my face.

He pulled out again and I coughed, near ready to vomit. He ordered me to lick him again.

I licked and licked. Eventually I licked him just right in a spot right beneath the tip of his cock and his cum exploded onto my face. He shuddered with pleasure and took his cock in his hand and rubbed it all over my face, smearing the cum all over me.

“Oh Kimmy, we're going to have so much fun.” he moaned.

He wiped my face off with a towel, leaving a distinct odor and sticky feeling behind, and of course the taste in my mouth. He picked me up and locked me in my crib again. He set down the bowl of ice cream outside the crib, just out of my reach, and left.

I reached for it, I struggled, I stretched myself as far as I could. I couldn't reach it. I collapsed. I felt the horror of what just happened and of what I knew would happen tomorrow. That night the nightmares returned. If I screamed...no one came for me.

Chapter 6: Daddy's Girl

The morning after I learned that John would be my new Daddy, and the first time he molested me against my will, Marie was the first to find me. I was asleep in my crib, one arm tightly wrapped around my beloved Dolly and the other reaching through the bars of the crib coming up just short of a melted bowl of ice cream. I'm sure she quite enjoyed the sight.

Marie woke me and began her daily taunting, and even worse it was clear she was aware of what had transpired. “Oh, you poor thing, it looks like John didn't let you have your treat after all. Or was it just that the first treat he gave you was enough to satisfy you?”

“Marrrie,” I whined, “You know I don't like boys, I'm just a little girl I shouldn't be doing things like that.”

Long gone were the days when I would think of myself as an 18 year old boy, or the days when I would even want to, so it didn't even enter into the discussion.

She lifted me out of the crib and felt my face. “Eww, stickyface, you could have fooled me!”

She took me to the bathroom and cleaned me up, I had never been so grateful to have a clean face in my life but I was red faced with anger as she dumped my melted ice cream down the toilet.

“I'm sure you wouldn't want that now, Kimmy.” she told me as she did it.

She was quite wrong on that. I had never done more to earn a treat in my life.

She continued, “Besides, it's not my decision to make any more. Since you and John, that's Daddy to you now, have gotten off to such a rocky start they decided to let him take over your training and discipline. You better dedicate every second you can to making him happy if you ever want to taste some ice cream again. Oh, I can still spank you though, so don't think you can slack off on respecting your elder sisters now or you'll quickly be making friends with my riding crop again.”

The brainwashing began to tear my tortured mind in half, split between the desperate need to be good to earn ice cream and the fear and disgust Daddy would surely confront me with again and again. The mental battle continued to rage. I was silent and submissive on the outside but inside I was in turmoil and distress.

“Oh, it won't be so bad Kimmy.” she went on, “John is going to train you to love him, he will be very nice as long as you behave, in fact he said today is going to be a very special Daddy & Daughter day for you and you'll have one every week from now on.”

She tacked on a sarcastic promise that she was totally jealous of me and began to dress me for my day with Daddy. She dressed me in a comfy knee length light yellow polka dotted sun dress with white panties with little yellow flowers on them and a pair of white Mary Janes with a slightly raised heel. My curly auburn hair was adorned with a yellow hair band. She added a white cardigan and a small white purse for me to carry.

I unequivocally adored the outfit. It was deliciously girly but simple and comfortable, unlike many of the more elaborate pageant style dresses they made me wear with the tights and the layers of petticoats. I twirled and curtsied in front of the mirror as Marie looked on with great mirth at how well they had done at not just making me into a girl, but taking it so far that I now relished it and loved being a complete girly-girl that wants to look pretty and show herself off.

For a few moments I forgot about the part of all this I wouldn't like, the fact that I would be parading around all day in my favorite new outfit with John, humiliating myself and possibility being forced to suck his cock again or worse.

When we came downstairs Marlena lost it at how cute I looked in my latest outfit. I twirled for her and smiled and she led me into the kitchen to present myself to Mommy and John, which I did with a curtsy. John was very impressed. He beckoned me over to sit on his lap as I had my breakfast. First Marlena put me in a large bib to protect my dress and then he lifted me up.

I could feel his cock poking me through my thin cotton panties, I tried to wriggle away a bit but my squirming in his lap just made him more excited.

“So what do you two have planned for today?” asked Marlena.

John replied, “Kimmy and I are going to see a performance of Giselle at the park, and afterwards I have a special surprise.”

I was suddenly excited. I had wanted to see Giselle since I had performed a dance from it at my ballet recital. I smiled and bounced up and down a bit before I realized how happy that was making John and I held still with a blushing face.

Marie knowingly smirked at me and Marlena just looked annoyed. It was clear she was beginning to dislike how much attention I was getting from the new man around the house while she was being nearly completely ignored. My sisters had never had a real father figure since our father had died when they were so young. I wanted to tell her she really didn't want attention from this kind of Daddy but there was nothing I could do. I had my own problems to worry about.

Before we left Mommy insisted on taking several pictures to commemorate our first Daddy & Daughter day. I was on my best behavior. I smiled and did my best to look like a happy little girl even though I was scared out of my wits. I was seconds away from being left alone with him and totally at his mercy.

John opened the car door for me like a gentleman and helped me up into the car, a Mercedes SUV with dark tinted windows. He had me sit in the front, which was a nice change for me since I spent most car rides in an oversized child seat.

I looked at him wide eyed with fear as we pulled away, with a furtive glance directed to his crotch at well. He saw my scared reaction and quickly acted to counter my expectations.

He told me,“I'm sorry about last night Kimmy. I had too much to drink and I was still angry that you said you didn't want to be my daughter. It was a mean trick of me to promise you ice cream and not give it to you. It won't happen again. Can you forgive me?”

I realized immediately he had left something out of his apology, the little fact that he had made me suck him off, but it wasn't like anything I could say would make a difference anyway. Knowing I was trapped in my fate and not wanting to anger him and possibly end up not being able to see the ballet, I decided to stick with the submissive nature which was now all I knew.

“Ok. I forgive you.” I told him.

“Thank You, Kimmy. I know I was very mean. I promise I'll make it up to you.”

He smiled and focused in on driving and the rest of the trip was uneventful We arrived at the outdoor amphitheater where the performance would take place. I was really enjoying myself. In my new outfit I blended in with the crowd a lot more because it was not so ridiculously childish like most of my frilly dresses. I just looked like a 12-13 year old girl in her Sunday best having a delightful outing with her Daddy.

We found a spot in the grass and John set down a blanket and a picnic basket. We ate a light lunch and I read the program for the performance. I read a bit about Giselle so I would understand the story the dance and the music would tell.

From the moment it began I was totally enchanted. Giselle is a sickly peasant girl. Two men are deeply in love with her. One is a Duke named Albrecht disguised as a peasant named Loys who is already betrothed to another woman, and the other is a local gamekeeper named Hilarion.

Loys and Giselle dance a love duet as she picks petals from a daisy to weigh his love for her. The first act ends in tragedy as Giselle dies after Hilarion reveals that her beloved Loys had been deceiving her about his true identity.

John didn't seem engaged in watching the performance at all. He was happy just watching me and enjoying how much of a good time I was having. I was totally engrossed in the artistry of the performance, the story, and in the technical prowess of all the performers. I took my own dancing very seriously and knew the more advanced classes I would soon be tackling would require much more work and dedication if I ever wanted to be as good as these dancers.

During the intermission I desperately had to go to the bathroom. Recently I had defied all the the procedures they had used to make me near incontinent but only just barely. If I took it too far I would surely wet myself which is exactly what I didn't want when I was having such a nice day presenting myself as an older girl.

John followed along to keep an eye on me but I knew I was near my limit and I practically ran away from him. When I arrived at the ladies room the line was extremely long, it was a rather girly event so the ladies room was crowded and everyone was waiting for the intermission to use the rest room all at once of course.

I stood in line and started to do a very immature “I have to pee right now!” dance as the other ladies in line giggled while watching to see how I would handle my predicament. The line wasn't moving at all and I wanted to make sure I would get back in time for the start of the second act, I didn't want to miss a second.

I felt a familiar pressure down below and knew from experience that I was just about out of time. In a near desperate panic I looked around frantically and saw what I had to do. There was no line for the men's room.

I burst out of the line for the ladies room at a gallop and went in to the men's room. The men inside looked up in shock at the prissy little girl with a pained look on her face invading their territory. I paid it no mind, the alternative was worse.

I made my way to a stall squealing in desperation. I pulled up the skirt of my dress, tugged down my panties as fast as I could, and plopped down on the seat. Instantly I released my bladder with a very loud involuntary gasp of relief.

I could hear some snickers from outside the stall at that, but I didn't pay it any mind. Having to find my way back to my Daddy in this very public place with soaked panties and legs would have been incomparably worse.

I heard another man comment, “Good for you girly, that line looks awful. What do they do in there that takes so long anyway?”

Giddy with relief I replied, “Girls are crazy! Don't get me started! You should meet my sister Marie!”

There was genuine laughter from outside, it was nice having it be only partly at my expense for once. As I finished I realized there was no toilet paper in the stall. I should have just let it go, but if Marie or Mommy saw even a spot of pee in my panties I would be back in pull-ups for sure.

In a my meek feminine voice I spoke up, “Umm, could someone pass under some toilet paper, please?”

There was more laughter, but a masculine hand appeared holding a roll for me which I quickly grabbed.

“Thank you.”

I flushed, pulled up my panties, and exited the stall looking at nothing but the ground, I quickly headed for the exit. A man grabbed me on the shoulder and I looked up behind me, it was John.

He sternly told me, “Don't forget to wash your hands, Kimmy.”

More red faced than usual I made my way to the sink and washed my hands before John led me out. We returned to our blanket and sat down. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised, apparently expecting an explanation for where he found me.

I told him, embarrassed, “Daddy, the line was too long and I couldn't hold it anymore, there was nothing else I could do.”

He laughed and teased me, “But did you have to make such a big show of it? I thought you just forgot who you are now and went in the wrong room.”

“No,” I replied with my head down, “I know what I am.”

The music began again and the second act started. I forgot about my most recent humiliating adventure and focused back in on the ballet.

In a moonlit glade surrounding Giselle's grave Hilarion mourns for his lost love. Hilarion is scared away by a group of evil, vengeful female spirits called the Wilis. The spirits summon her from the grave as Albrecht arrives, he asks her forgiveness for the deception which she readily offers and the two again dance a duet celebrating their undying love.

The vengeful female spirits pursue and kill Hilarion with a magical dance. This scene, though performed with the artistry and grace of the ballet rather than the crass violence of a horror movie, deeply disturbed me for some reason. I moved close to John and he could see I was scared. He held me. Something about this aspect of the story touched something buried in my mind, the nightmares I regularly suffer in the long nights locked in my crib. The vague shape of a little girl in a stained dress, shrouded in darkness and radiating fear and anger and madness.

The vengeful spirits turn towards Albrecht next, he begs to be spared but they refuse. Giselle protects her true love from the Wilis and he survives. As day breaks the spirits return to their graves and Giselle is left to rest in peace.

This aspect of the story touched me too, I was crying as I joined in the standing ovation for the performance. I hugged John and genuinely thanked him for bringing me. That was the kind of life I led now. He had done terrible things to me and would certainly do so again, but I had to grab every moment of happiness I could and hang on to it for dear life.

He picked up the blanket and the picnic basket and told me he had another surprise for me. We would be going backstage. He took my hand and led me on.

I was nervous and exited as I met the dancers I had so admired. In my old life it would probably be like if I had been able to go into the locker room at an NFL game. I met the ballerina who had danced as Giselle. I complimented her on how beautiful and graceful she was.

John told her I was a dancer too and I had recently knocked the socks off the crowd at my first recital.

I blushed, “Oh, I'm not that good yet but I hope I can be as great a dancer as you are some day.”

She seemed genuinely enthused to meet a young dancer and had me run through a few basic steps, which I nervously performed for her.

She turned to John, “This is just basic stuff, but she is REALLY good. You make sure she keeps working at at it. She could be a pro someday!”

My self esteem and pride ballooned at the compliment. I had a huge genuine smile as John snapped a few pictures of us.

Before we went back to the car John bought me an ice cream from one of the concession stands. Disregarding my earlier distaste for acting childish I became lost in the pleasant drug-like Pavlovian reaction to the treat they had programmed into my brain. I squealed with delight and enjoyed my ice cream, skipping along behind John as we walked. When we returned to the car John took my hand and I bobbed in a cute curtsy as he again helped me into the front seat.

John went around to the driver's side and retrieved something from his pocket, a small jewelry box. He took my half eaten ice cream from me. I pouted.

“Don't worry, Kimmy, I won't keep you from your ice cream ever again, I just wanted to give you something first.” he told me tenderly.

He opened the jewelry box, inside was a necklace. The pendant was gold and it spelled out the words “Daddy's Girl” with what looked to be a real diamond as the dot on the I. I swooned as he placed it around my neck, still high from the opiate like effect of the ice cream and the good time I had at the ballet. I brushed back my hair and proudly showed off his gift for him. He looked very pleased with how happy he had made me. Later on that night, as the high wore off, I would realize how easy I really was to manipulate, given the experiences I had been through and the mental conditioning they had subjected me to, but at that moment I was in love with my Daddy.

When he opened his zipper I could barely hold myself back from stretching over the seat to take his cock in my mouth. I wasn't really attracted to him like that but I knew he expected it and I just wanted to make him feel as happy as he had made me feel. He grabbed my hair painfully and held me away. I reached out with my tongue to try and reach the tip of his cock but it was out of range.

“No Kimmy, “ he whispered, “not here, even with the tinted windows it's too crowded.”

He put the car in drive and as we got on the highway he released his painful grip on my hair and instead pushed me down. I didn't float away this time, this time I lived and loved every moment of sucking his cock. It was wet and sloppy and noisy, he moaned with pleasure and almost drove off the road several times.

When I was tired I grabbed his cock in my hand and stroked it, while looking up at him with wide open, worshiping eyes. When I had recovered I opened my mouth wide and dived back in, he drove with his left hand and reached around and gently rubbed my pantied bottom with his right, and gave me a few playful slaps. Thanks to the low pain tolerance the treatments had given me even a playful slap hurt a bit and I gasped, but the adrenaline of the moment made it bittersweet and almost pleasurable.

The car had stopped and I was still going, vigorously sucking even as the pain in my chest from being draped over the center console grew worse and worse. Exhausted I remembered what had made him explode the last time and gave him several dainty licks on the underside of his cock. He fiercely came with a restrained scream. His semen covered my face and my neck. I felt a warm liquid smack me on the center of my lips and I licked them and swallowed. The taste of his cum mingled with the taste of the ice cream from earlier and I gasped again with pleasure.

I fell back in my seat feeling dirty but somehow satisfied. I retrieved a tissue from my purse and examined myself in the vanity mirror. I wiped the cum from my face. John pulled himself together, and looked on me with awe.

“Kimmy, thank you, that was the greatest experience of my life.”

I replied, “Thanks for taking me to the Ballet and for the necklace and the...”

He started, “Oh right!” and handed me back my half melted ice cream.

We entered the house holding hands. Marie was inside watching TV.

She glanced at us, “So, did you two have a good time on your Daddy & Daughter day?”

We both told her we had a great time. John went upstairs and Marie pulled me over to sit next to her on the couch.

“So, Kimmy is Daddy's Little Girl now, eh? I thought you didn't like him?” she teased.

“Oh well,” I finished off my ice cream, “I guess he can be kind of nice...”

She glanced towards my neck again, “Yeah, you must think he's REALLY nice!”

I fondled the necklace and felt a warm stickiness. I looked down and turned bright red when I saw the globs of cum still adorning my new piece of jewelry.

I retrieved more tissue from my purse and cleaned myself off some more.

“Too much excitement today, Cummy. I think you should go to bed early.” Marie told me as she dragged me upstairs to be diapered and locked in my crib.

That night a new nightmare joined the others, about vengeful female spirits that can kill someone with a dance.

Chapter 7: The Tea Party

Several weeks later I awoke from one of my nightmares into yet another new one. I again found myself face to face with Cindy, the evil women who had made the insane plan they had for me possible in the first place. The woman who had altered my mind and my body and my genitals to put me on the girly path they wanted for me.

I was chained to a table, nude and spread eagle in a bare white room. Tears came to my eyes as Cindy stared down on me. I struggled against the chains in panic. I searched through my mind and tried to feel my body. What did she do to me this time? What else could they possibly do?

She had altered my appearance into that of a totally convincing pretty little girl. She had made me a frequent panty wetter. She made me intolerant of even minor pain, so I could be easily punished without permanently harming me. She had removed my balls and my dick and given me the genitals of a girl. She had delved into my mind, enforcing my total obedience when offered a simple treat. She had altered my sexuality so I was no longer interested in girls.

Was I not the perfect, pretty, obedient little girl they set out to create by now? I would do anything they asked to prove my debased hyper-femininity, even suck a cock and enjoy it.

I looked up into her cold eyes. She was still looking down on me and watching me struggle and hyperventilate from panic.

She began to stroke my hair and soothe me.

“There there, little Kimmy, it's okay. I'll explain why you're here. Just calm down.”

She began to remove my chains and had me sit up on the table. I was still crying and was deeply scared. My body hadn't changed, that I could tell, so she must have been messing around in my head again.

She moved around behind me to retrieve something and returned with my favorite doll, which she handed to me. I hugged Dolly tightly and instantly began to feel comforted in a way a crazy bitch like Cindy could never understand, with all her insincere kind words.

I hugged the doll with one hand and stroked her hair with another. I looked down at her, still pouting but no longer crying.

Cindy spoke to me, “I'm glad your doll gives you so much comfort. I remember when I first gave it to you. You hugged it right away and it doesn't look like you ever let go.”

I stared at the doll and realized it was true. The doll was modeled after me in my new appearance when they had first transformed me, it wore a replica of my very first dress. It was still the most over the top girly outfit in my wardrobe and now I begged to wear it more often so I could dress Dolly in the matching outfit and enjoy the ruffles and layers of petticoats.

By pointing out that she had provided me with the doll Cindy was trying to brag about how everything I had now become could be traced back to her, and about how well she had done on me, but I don't think Cindy understood fully what Dolly meant to me. The doll had been my constant companion, the only one never to hurt or humiliate me. She kept me company in the long nights in my crib, my imagination running wild with elaborate fantasy conversations between us in a constant fight to keep the nightmares away. In this I was truly like a small child, the doll was real to me, not an object I begrudgingly held out of an obedient need to humiliate myself for my family. Without my Dolly I would never feel safe and the darkness of my life would consume me.

Cindy paced around me and looked me over as I sat, still nude.

“Kimmy, you really are my masterpiece. It's almost a shame, when other people come to me with men they want feminized and I show off your pictures and case history they are instantly sold on my services. I have to talk them down and explain they all can't come out as well as you.”

I felt self conscious, scared, cold, vulnerable and exposed. I sat my dolly on my lap to cover my naked genitals.

Cindy giggled, “Oh, it's nothing I haven't seen before Kimmy. I made it, after all.”

She took my doll from me and began to stroke my genitals and rubbed a finger on my clit. I gasped as an electric bolt of sexual pleasure hit me, a pleasure I had not felt once since they had removed my balls and started messing my my mind. There was a hint of sexual flavor mixed in with my programmed reaction to ice cream, but not the primal shocking and intense feeling I had experienced when she touched me down there.

Cindy patted me on the head, “Oh yes, you're going to enjoy the changes this time Kimmy. Your new Daddy was very satisfied with how happy you've been making him lately. He said it didn't seem fair that he couldn't return the favor.”

Shocked by the return of sexual pleasure I practically ignored her and moved my hand to my clit and rubbed. I felt nothing, she slapped my hand away.

“But there are RULES Kimmy!” she shouted as I cowered in fear.

She continued, “No touching yourself , your Daddy doesn't think that's good behavior for a girl like you so it won't do a thing for you. If you want relief you go to your Daddy and no one else. You like men now, and what turns you on the most, Kimmy...what will drive you wild and make you beg for more, is to be sexually debased and humiliated. You want to be treated like trash, like a slut. You like to be spanked and abused and insulted.”

She looked down at my reddening face, I could feel it was true, I could feel the changes she had made at my Daddy's request. Asexuality was a dream compared to this.

She went on, “Yes, it's a deranged combination your Daddy came up with for you, isn't it? I know you love your girly things, but in the back of your head you remember, barely by now I suppose, what it was like to be a boy and what everyone else thinks of your preferences to be a girl instead. So I guess every moment for you has a tinge of humiliation and debasement, doesn't it?”

I moaned in anguish. I ran to where she had placed my doll and picked it up. I hugged her. I bounced my head against the wall. I needed to drive these thoughts out of my head...

Cindy gathered me up and moved me to a mirror. I looked at myself. The perfect little girl, naked aside from a pink bow in her curly auburn hair and a “Daddy's Girl” necklace, clutching at a dolly.

She moved to a TV monitor next to the mirror and turned it on. I saw a picture of a teenage boy with reddish brown hair in khaki pants, a button up white shirt, and black tie, with a sport coat slung over his shoulder. I realized it was the boy I constantly saw in my nightmares, but only now recognized again in my conscious state. It was me, who I used to be. They had either blocked it out of my mind or I had repressed it myself.

Confronted with the nightmare image I involuntarily urinated on the floor. As I stared at the two images, the incontinent little girl with the dolly on one side and the boy she had used to be on the other I was overcome with waves of humiliation which were now channeled into a sexual longing for more.

I thought of both times I had sucked John's cock, when he had humiliated me by forcing himself on me and denying me my treat and when I had humiliated myself by being so eager to suck him he had to pull me away by my pretty hair.

I couldn't contain myself. I wanted more and more and more of that kind of degrading treatment. I desperately tried to rub myself again to feel the payoff for these thoughts, but nothing happened. I screamed in frustration.

Cindy suddenly grabbed and held me from behind and applied a vibrator directly on my clit. I screamed and squealed with pleasure, I squirmed in her harms and hopped up and down banging my clit against the vibrator in her hand until I exploded in an orgasm so intense I felt like the entire world was going to collapse around me, instead, my knees gave out.

Cindy looked down on me laying in a puddle of my own bodily fluids, only half-conscious but red faced with pleasure and breathing heavily.

“I always go too far with this one...”

Cindy had meant for every moment of my life to be spent in a torturous combination of humiliation and lust, but again she proved she didn't understand me as well as she thought. I truly enjoyed being a girl now and I didn't think there was anything to be humiliated about, at least when I wasn't being directly confronted with my former past as a boy.

So what if I wanted to be a girl? Lots of people did, they were born that way or they choose it. So what? When I deeply dwell on it, I understand there is a difference when femininity is forced. My masculinity was stolen and only later did I realize I didn't want it anyway, but I had repressed so much of that torture to the dark places of my mind that I didn't confront it every second in everything I did, but instead only when they bubbled up in moments of deep humiliation.

Several months after the latest brainwashing, I was engaged in an activity that surely was the type Cindy had intended would humiliate me into lust, but actually it was one of my favorite most carefree times of the week.

I sat at a table set up in my room, dressed in a blue knee length dress with a single layer of petticoats. I wore white tights, black Mary Janes, and a frilly pinafore with blue ribbon and a lace. It was one of my most beloved outfits, it looked like it came right out of Alice in Wonderland which had become one of my favorite movies.

Opposite me was my sister Marlena. I held my favorite dolly but several others were set up around the table which was arranged with the Barbie tea party set my mother had bought for me. This had been a weekly tradition for us ever since I had received the set. We laughed and giggled and Marlena played with the dolls with me for my amusement and pretended to sip imaginary tea. Marlena loved this kind of thing, she missed being a little girl herself in a lot of ways and constantly used me as a proxy. I didn't mind. It was pleasant to have someone so nice and sweet who was always my friend around.

Lately that relationship had become strained. I spent so much time with John now that I had little time for her. Every week we would have our Daddy & Daughter day. He would take me off somewhere nice for some girly activity and I would come home with some new gift. I had received more cute jewelry, a huge elaborate doll house to play with, new outfits including several that would let me pass as an older girl, a TV for my room (of course with appropriate parental controls built in), and more.

I was starting to get a reputation with Marlena as a very spoiled little princess but she had no idea what I was doing to earn that station, the dirty things I had to do in return. I couldn't tell her, maybe she could have helped me, but the brainwashing had me loving the perverse nature of my relationship with John. Only he could give me the horrible demeaning treatment I needed to get off, since I couldn't do it for myself.

I heard him come upstairs and saw him stand in the open doorway as we had our imaginary tea. He had a smile on his face as he watched us play. Marlena surely heard him there, but haughtily ignored him as we continued our routine. He stayed in the doorway and observed us.

After a few minutes he reached his hand towards his face and pantomimed a blowjob. Marlena followed my eyes and quickly turned behind her to look at John, but he had returned to a casual pose. She looked back at me suspiciously.

I could feel the need growing in my panties, reminded of all the times I had humiliatingly sucked his cock. That was all it took to set me off. I tried to fight it back as hard as I could but more and more humiliating ideas came rushing in to my head and my cravings grew stronger and stronger. I could see Marlena starting to get annoyed at how distracted I had been since John had started watching us.

“Go away, John.” she said as she turned around to face him again, “This tea party is for girls only. It's our special sister time and Kimmy doesn't want to play with you right now.”

She turned back around and nodded at me. I fiddled with the lace ribbons of my pinafore and looked down.

John replied to her back, “Maybe we should ask Kimmy what SHE wants? Do you want to play with Daddy instead?”

I hated him for putting me in this position. He was doing it on purpose, it was obvious. He knew the sexual compulsion I was under and what my answer would be. He knew exactly how much I loved Marlena, how much I enjoyed our time playing together, how badly what I was about to do would hurt us both. I guess he was just jealous. He didn't want to share the ability to please me with anyone. I hated him. I hated the sick fuck.

Several moments passed. Marlena looked at me with pain plainly evident on her face. I hadn't spoken yet but she could already tell what I was about to say somehow. Suddenly I noticed the involuntary action I had been performing, playing with and stroking the “Daddy's Girl” necklace hung around my neck. My hatred for the man was mingled with my masochistic sexual need for him and my subconscious had betrayed me.

“Well, Kimmy?” John asked.

He knew she had seen, but he had to make me push the knife into her heart even more.

“I want to play with you instead Daddy.” I whispered.

“What? I didn't hear you.” he said.

“I don't want to play tea party anymore right now.” I said more loudly.

Marlena's face twisted with hurt and anger, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach just looking at her.

“Fine. The spoiled little princess can have her way.” She said evenly.

She got up, shoved past John, and slammed the door. I heard her run downstairs and leave the house. John moved to lock the door. As soon as he did I forgot everything about Marlena, lost in my desperate need.

After he helped me out of the dress and petticoats I immediately dropped on all fours and stuck my butt up in the air at him, I nodded vigorously and looked at him with pleading eyes, I desperately wanted his cock in my pussy.

“No, Kimmy, no penetration yet. I'm saving your virginity for a special day, but don't worry I'll make sure you're happy. I'll give you a taste of what it will be like.”

He sat down on a chair pulled me over his lap and stuck a ball gag in my mouth so I wouldn't make too much noise. He gently spanked me, it did hurt but not like when he was actually punishing me. He was conscious of my limits, the difference between the bittersweet masochistic pleasure I was craving and a true thrashing. I now loved to be spanked gently like this, I got hornier and hornier being stuck over his lap as he told me what a dirty, naughty little girl I was for liking it like this. We both moaned in mutual pleasure, his cock rubbing against my chest and my crotch rubbing against his leg.

He lifted me up and sat me on his lap. I rubbed my butt back and forth and up and down, feeling the cock in his pants rub against my pantied bottom. We dry humped. He held me firmly in his strong, manly hands and I bounced while he thrust. He reached around and stroked my clit and the lips of my vagina through my panties.

I felt his large cock under me as I rode on his lap, I tried to imagine what it would be like when he finally stuck it in me and got hornier and hornier as I bounced up and down and moaned through the gag.

I came first, as he stuck his hands down my panties and rubbed my clit directly with his strong hand, I panted and screamed through the gag and near forgot where I was. I went limp in the afterglow as John stood up and held me with one arm and pulled down his pants with the other. He sat us both back down and sat me on his cock, which was now directly in contact with my panties. I continued to lap dance for him until he gasped and I felt the warm cum on my panties.

I was still lost a million miles away as he talked to me through his heavy breathing, “...and it will be so much better when I do it for real...all your girly little dreams will come true.”

And I knew he was right, but with my sexual needs fulfilled my thoughts now returned to Marlena and what he made me do to her. The tea party table was still set up, surrounded by dolls. I began to cry softly.

John patted my head and removed the gag from my mouth. “Don't worry Kimmy, you won't have to wait that long.”

He helped me back into my dress but left me in the panties that were covered in his cum, the disgusting feel of which would almost certainly bring me back into a wild state of arousal eventually.

When Marlena came back I went to her room, still dressed as before and now carrying a Barbie doll. I knocked on her door quietly.

“May I come in Marlena?” I asked as sweetly as I could.

I heard no answer and I knocked again.

“Please Marlena.” I repeated.

I opened the door without permission, she was on her bed reading a book and looking very upset.

“Oh, now Princess Kimmy thinks she owns my room too!? Get out Kimmy, I'm through with you. Go play with your Daddy since you love HIM so much and don't care about my feelings.”

I had come in to apologize but now I was feeling so angry and hurt at what John had made me do that all I could do was sit there and take Marlena's rebuke with a trembling lower lip and tears in my eyes.

“GET OUT NOW Kimmy! I've never done it before but if you don't get out of this room this instant I will spank you so hard with my hair brush you'll think Marie goes easy on you. I've treated you with nothing but love and respect while everyone else bullies you, and where did that get me? With a heartless spoiled little brat of a little sister who doesn't care about me one bit. It isn't just your Daddy who's been spoiling you, it's been me too. Maybe you need a few smacks on the behind before you learn any good sense.”

I walked over to her desk and retrieved a hair brush. I went over to the side of her bed and knelt.

“You're right Marlena, I'm sorry. When I first met Daddy I hated him but now I kind of like him...I guess the presents do have a lot to do with it...but also I do have fun playing with him so I am kind of spoiled. He treats me like a little princess so I guess I started to feel he was right and I can do whatever I want and not worry about other people. I forgot how much you love me too and how patient and pleasant you always are with me. Expensive gifts from Daddy are nice, but my favorite gift is still the old Barbie doll you gave me.”

I held up the doll to show her, knowing it would tug at her heart strings.

I continued, still kneeling. “Maybe I do need some sense smacked into me, I know if you did it you would just be teaching me a valuable lesson and not trying to hurt me. I trust you and I know you love your little sister.”

I offered her the hairbrush, she took it in her hand and looked back down at me.

“And I won't be mad at you after or pout and throw one of my little tantrums. I know I deserve to be taught a lesson after what I did. I was hoping maybe tomorrow you could take me to the park and we could have our tea party there? Daddy won't be able to interrupt us that way.”

I fought down the sexual perversions this humiliating idea was generating in my mind. It would be embarrassing, I liked being a girl and even a little girl, but I would make a tremendous spectacle of myself playing with all my little dollies in a public place. I was totally honest in just wanting to have a sweet innocent little outing with my sister though, not living the sick fantasies they had put in my head. I felt the urges withdraw a bit, slowly I was winning the fight to regain some control, just as I had done against the bladder treatments they had given me. Despite what they had claimed at the start of all this, it was becoming clear some of the changes they had made to me were not as ironclad and permanent as they had thought they would be, as long as I was in some control of my own mind I could fight my body and the brainwashing they had implanted. I could not reveal too much, however. As soon as they had learned I couldn't always be spanked into submission anymore they had punished me by removing my male genitals for good, and there was always some new horror they could come up with. I couldn't let them know some small part of me was still resisting their will.

I lowered my head as all this went through my mind and I fought off my sense of humiliation. I stared down at my pinafore, playing with the lace ribbons again.

Marlena just thought I was looking down in shame at what I had done to her and it added to my heart felt perfect little abject apology for what I had done. She got off the bed and stood me up. She put her hand under my chin and forced me to look up into her eyes. She was crying.

“Oh, of course I forgive you little sis.” she gushed and grabbed me in a tight hug, and we both cried uncontrollably in happiness.

She continued, “And you will ALWAYS be a princess to me, but not the spoiled brat kind but the good, sweet kind like in your Disney movies.”

She grabbed a box of tissues and we dried our eyes. She reached for the hairbrush.

“...but I need to make sure you remember how close you were to throwing away our friendship.” she told me.

I nodded solemnly, pulled down my panties, and held up my dress and petticoat so my backside was exposed. I waited. The anticipation was always the worst.

I waited, and waited, and waited. Marlena must know this was its own kind of torture. I didn't expect her to be so cruel and sadistic with how she went about spanking me. Maybe all of us in this family have that same psychopathic bitchiness my mother and sister Marie wore on the surface buried somewhere inside us.

My arms were getting tired and she had yet to strike. I turned around. She was silently crying and holding the brush in both hands sheepishly.

“I can't do it Kimmy, I'm sorry. I can't hurt you like this even though I know you probably need it. I love you too much and I don't like watching you cry when everyone else does this to you.”

I let my petticoat and dress drop and Marlena pulled up my panties and handed me back my Barbie doll. She resumed hugging me tightly. I felt safe and secure and happy in her arms and forgot about all my troubles.

She offered to let me sleep in her bed that night and stay up late watching girly movies and eating ice cream. That sounded like heaven to me. Later, I would reflect upon what I had thought, about that hidden familial psychopathy I assumed I was about to see in her, and I realized that one of the daughters in my family was left free of that taint.

Just one.

Chapter 8: The Girl In Red

We snuggled together beneath the warm comforter in her bed, my head in her chest as she stroked my hair, happy and content. Every moment of torture and humiliation and abuse I had experienced was gone from my mind as my sister and I shared a loving embrace after a night of fun together.

“Marlena,” I whispered, “please don't ever leave me, I don't think I could survive like this alone...”

A soft whimper escaped me as I noticed she was now asleep. I hugged her tighter. I woke up from a rare sound and restful sleep to a shove and a sense of falling before I landed on the ground beside the bed.

Marlena shouted, “KIMMY! You wet the bed! It's all over me!””

I felt the dampness in my panties and nightie and groaned.

“It's DISGUSTING! EWWW!” she said as she danced up and down.

I started to sniffle and cower, still on the ground. “I'm sorry Marlena I can't help it sometimes I'm SORRY please don't be mad...”

With great effort I saw her compose herself and walk over to me. She helped me untangle from the sheets and lifted me up.

“Kimmy, it's my fault. I'm your older sister and I know about your condition. I should have remembered to diaper you. Let's not fight again, especially not today.”

I didn't know what was so special about today, but I was just happy I hadn't made her despise me again. She led me to the bathroom and we stripped out of our soiled clothes.

“Now, let's get you all cleaned up.” She told me and went to turn on the bath. I could see she was still restraining disgust.

“Marlena, you can go first...I...I wet myself a lot so I'm used to it.” I sheepishly told her, even though I had never quite adjusted to the indignity.

She smiled at me sweetly, “Thanks little sis, but how about we just save time and shower together?”

I readily agreed, there was nothing awkward to me about this. I was long past the point of having sexual feelings about girls or thinking I was a boy, not that I would have had such thoughts about my former little sister anyway. We entered the shower and playfully began cleaning each other and shared another warm, intimate sisterly memory.

“Now, I was thinking of doing something different with your hair...”

I turned around, aghast, and protectively moved my hands up around my beloved curls.

She gently lowered my hands to my side, “I know you love your curls but its always been the same for you, wouldn't it be fun to try some new styles?”

She backed away for a moment, and I vainly stepped out of the shower and considered my appearance in the mirror while wiping away the fog. I had come to love the reaction my beautiful curls inspired in every woman I saw, and the reaction among certain men, but I had to admit that a girl needs a change occasionally.

“Ok, Marlena, we can try, but if I don't like it you'll be fixing it right back the way you found it!”

She smiled and clapped, “Thank you, Kimmy, but don't worry you're gonna love it.”

She began the long process of straightening out my hair. In the horrible time to come I would escape to this moment, to the quiet warm comfort of my sister massaging my scalp with the shampoo and conditioner. I was vulnerable and naked but had nothing to worry me, nothing to fear. I was in a bubble of peace and serenity and relaxation.

I sat on her bed wrapped in a big pink fluffy towel as I waited for her to finish dressing so she could help me do the same. She helped me into my “Hello Kitty” themed panties and a white slip, I raised my arms and she dressed me in a simple pink sundress. She led me over to a seat in front of the mirror.

She hummed a tune I remembered from ballet class but could not quite place. I was lost in a happy, girly fog. If my hated mother or older sister Marie had been fixing my hair I would be crying and whining like a petulant brat, but Marlena knew just how to pull and tug when necessary without abusing my shamefully low tolerance for pain.

When she was done I could hardly sit still and contain my glee with the result. My beautiful auburn hair had been pulled back tightly on each side into two long, luxurious braided pigtails with pink ribbons at the end.

“Ohhhhh! I love it! I love it, Marlena! Thank You!”

I grabbed Dolly from off the bed and twirled around in front of the mirror. I shook my head back and forth and the braids danced with me. I looked down at my doll, still in the curls that matched my former hairstyle. Marlena knew what I was thinking.

“It's okay Kimmy, we can do her hair to match yours. And once you know how to do it for her, you can do it for yourself, and you won't need to have Marie or Mommy supervising your hair every day,”

I turned to face her and pouted, she looked at me with a knowing smile.

“I know you like making them do all that work for you, it must be nice to have a bit of role reversal, but the way I hear you cry and scream when they do it I can't think it is all really worth it...I think you really just love those curls.”

I sighed. Marlena knew me so well. I gave her a hug, and she sat me in front of the mirror again and taught me how to braid my dolly's hair. It took several tries to get it just right, but in the end she was my perfect mirror image once again. She even had a matching dress.

We went downstairs, I presented myself to the family in the kitchen, clutching my doll in my right arm with my sister Marlena resting a hand on my left shoulder.

“The new Kimmy!” Marlena announced, to mock applause from Marie and Mommy and a grin from Daddy I knew all too well.

“So what do you two have planned for today?” Marie asked with a sly smile.

“I'm taking Kimmy to the park for a tea party, just me and her, NO INTERUPTIONS.” she said pointedly while looking in Daddy's direction.

“I wouldn't dream of interrupting you today, Marlena, just have her back safe and sound when you're done.”

There was something about the way he said it that scared me but I had no idea just how bad my situation was. At that point Marlena was not in the mood to enlighten me, she simply reached over and gave me another hug. I was starting to get worried.

We paraded together through the park. That is, we walked through the park. Marlena carried a picnic basket full of provisions for our tea party and I held a smaller basket full of my dolls...but any time I went anywhere it could accurately be described as parading. A crowd of people would gather around to see the boy who had, as had been forcibly announced everywhere across town from my own mouth, willingly decided to become a little girl.

We arrived at a location Marlena had decided would be appropriate, beneath the shade of a tree, and she encouraged me to entertain the crowd of onlookers for a few moments. I told them I loved being a girl and had chosen it willingly, I did a graceful ballet twirl and curtsied and bashfully twittered my eyelids. Marlena, thankfully, announced the show was over and drove the crowd away.

I sighed as they went. Marlena noticed and smiled at me.

“Ohhhh. It's all that ballet, I'm starting to like pleasing a crowd...”

I giggled and she charged at me and started tickling, I laughed like a madgirl and bounced up and down. She set down a blanket and I began putting my dolls into their places, speaking formally and introducing each one.

“Good morning, Miss Mary, why don't you have a seat over here? Lovely day isn't it?”

Marlena giggled at my enthusiasm.

After each dolly, and Marlena and myself of course, was in place Marlena produced the tea set and some sandwiches and pastries for each of us. I figured it was kind of a waste of food, since I had never actually seen a doll eat or drink tea, but it added to the fun.

We enjoyed a pleasant tea party for about an hour but after so long even my own imagination and Marlena's doting wore thin. We abandoned the blanket and the dolls and sat together in a warm embrace under the nearby tree.

She sat to my left, with her arm draped over my shoulder. She held me tight. We sat in silence for a long while. I looked into her eyes, but when I did she kept looking away.

Suddenly, her grip became tighter and her eyes locked with mine, “Ti...Kimmy...I'm sorry.”

She began to break down in tears. I was scared and confused....”Sor...for what?”

She composed herself and stared down at me, “I'm sorry we made you become a girl.”

I can't really describe what I felt. It was part love, that someone actually cared enough about my dignity as a human being to apologize...but also terror and confusion. They had done many things to my mind, I could never be sure if my feelings of acceptance for my new life were true or something they had brainwashed into me...but I did love being a girl...but the process had been literal torture, the kind of thing that could easily get a person sent to jail for life if they forced it on another human being...

She continued in a rush, “They didn't tell me what they were doing! I just thought they would dress you in panties and dresses for a few months to teach you a lesson...but....but...but......”

I continued for her, a rage that had been buried in me for months suddenly unearthed as I remembered the past, who I had once been, “THEY CUT IT OFF!”

I screamed and tried to run away but she desperately held me....”I DIDN'T KNOW! I DIDN'T KNOW! Mom and Marie said they would do it but I thought it was a joke and then when it happened.....”

“WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME!?” I screamed.

“Well, I was confused by it all...I dressed you in a ballerina outfit and gave you a Barbie and you were as happy as could be....and we were at the mall and you pranced around in a Dorothy outfit with me and all was well...we tried to give you a boy scout uniform and you wouldn't put it on....I was stupid and I didn't understand but now I get it, that would have been more humiliating because you would have looked like a girl anyway. She was mocking you...”

“...I didn't know they were setting you up for that, I thought you really liked it. When you came home after...after the surgery. I could see it in your eyes. You were...were...like a lobotomy. Right then I knew it hadn't been something you wanted, but I didn't know what to do. As time went on, the girlishness seemed to grow in you and make you happy so I encouraged it...it was the only thing that brought light to your eyes.”

By this point I was sobbing, feeling nothing but the pain and torture that had been inflicted upon me. She held me even tighter than she had before, near suffocating as I raged. Eventually, I wore myself out.

Whimpering, “I...I forgive you....I...I know you always loved me....and...I do like being a girl. Even if you had known, you still treated me with love and care. You're...the only reason I like being a girl.”

I looked into her eyes again, “I want to be like you.”

She holds me tight. I cry into her chest and let out all of my rage and frustration and anger. As I do this, she comforts me carefully and with restraint. As my tantrum subsides I begin to sense she is doing this for a reason. It's like she's holding something back....

“Kimmy, it gets worse...”

My tantrum redoubled, she soothed me with all of her might, I had no idea what the next bombshell would be but I knew it couldn't possibly be something good.

As I calmed down she addressed me bluntly, “Kimmy, they're sending me away to a private boarding school. Tomorrow. “

So she went away. She left me alone with them. Mommy and Daddy bought a big new house and we were going to move soon. I would be losing my ballet friends Sally and Katie too. A few weeks before the move Mommy and Daddy went on vacation and left Marie to babysit me for a week. I ruined the whole week for her. I fell down the stairs and injured myself very badly.

I had bruises on my face and every part of me hurt. Marie was so upset that I had such a disaster while she was responsible for me that she treated me very sweetly and nursed me back to health. It was the nicest she had ever treated me since she became my older sister. Maybe, I thought, she would finally start to care about me.

One day, bruised and in pain but dressed for ballet class like a little trooper, I went to her. She was sitting in her room by her desk. I knocked on the door and she ignored me. I went in anyway, this was against the rules but I really needed to try and talk to her.

“Marie?” I squeaked, “I'm sorry I ruined our week together. Thanks again for taking care of me.”

She nodded and looked away. I looked at a picture on her desk, she was dressed up in a ballet costume and smiling. “Marie, do you remember when you were Clara in “The Nutcracker”?

She finally turned to face me and I continued, “Your big brother came and saw every performance. You did so well and everyone loved you. He was so proud of you. One day I want to be Clara just like you were.”

I hugged her. She shoved me away. “Clumsy little girls who can't even handle stairs don't get to be Clara. Get out of that outfit, you're too hurt to go to class.”

“But...it's my last one...I want to say goodbye to my friends.”

“No one likes you, Kimmy.”

I sniffled a bit. She looked at me with so much hatred when she said it. I couldn't figure out why. As I walked away I looked back, she was looking in the mirror with the same expression. That was the last time I held out any hope she would love me.

I'm in the back seat of the car, Daddy and Mommy are in front and Marie sits to my right. I'm in a cute yellow dress, my favorite color, with elaborate frilly petticoats and white tights. I pass the time playing with my braids, twirling the end around in my hand over and over. I hum a tune from ballet class.

We're moving to the new house, in advance of Daddy and Mommy finally getting married.

It's a long, boring car ride. I play with my hair and remember those last loving moments with my sister Marlena, who taught me how to do the braiding that is now a part of my normal routine. A treasured gift she left before she had to go away.

When playing with my hair becomes tiresome, I turn to conversing with my favorite doll. My best friend, my ONLY friend now that Marlena is gone and my ballet buddies Katie and Sally are left behind in my old town. Maybe I'll make new friends in my new ballet class, maybe not, my status as a freak boygirl might make it hard. I hug my dolly tightly.

Dolly soothes me, “It's okay, Kimmy. The teacher will take care of you and you love ballet class no matter what.”

I heard her out loud again. It was happening more and more. My imagination was so vivid now that I was a child again.

Maybe I'll have a class full of bullies like my old nemesis Jean, who won't accept me and bully me and tease me. “Whatever,” I think, “when I dance their panties off at the recital they won't have anything to say.”

“ISN'T THAT RIGHT DOLLY!?” I exclaim, startling everyone else in the car.

Marie jerks awake, enraged at being woken up she grabs at my right braid and tugs it painfully.

“OWWWWWW!” I cry, “Please stop DADDY MAKE HER STOP!!!”

Mommy laughs, Daddy laughs. Marie can do whatever she wants as far as they are concerned.

The hours roll by.

I continue conversing with my doppelganger doll, more quietly now, about every anxiety and fear I have about moving to a new town. I tell her about what I know about the new town, and what I know about my new ballet school, and about a million different things. I babble on and on and on in a trance until...

Marie, who had never quite fallen back asleep, grabs the doll from my grasp. She looks at me with a malevolent glint in her eyes.

I beg.... “Marrrriiiieeee, gimme back my dolly....”

“You stupid, annoying, bratty little sister. I have not had one moment of peace with you babbling on and on this entire trip. It's time you learned what happens when you irritate your older sister....”

She held my doll up in her right hand, and with her left lowered the window.

“Say goodbye to your Dolly, little princess...”

With those last words she tossed my favorite doll, my one remaining friend, dressed as usual in an outfit identical to my own and with hair braided in my own likeness by my own hands, out the window of the car.

I let out a scream of horror so loud and high pitched that Daddy nearly drove off the road. Mommy clutched her hands to her ears and Marie laughed hysterically. In truth, it's a wonder my scream didn't break the windows on the car it was so intense, but I guess the surgery they had performed to give me a girly voice didn't give me quite enough pitch for that.

Mommy screamed back at me, “KIMMY, QUIET DOWN THIS INSTANT. WHAT ARE YOU SCREAMING ABOUT!?”

Marie interjected, “She just dropped her doll out the window, and it's her favorite one too! What a stupid little girl!”

I was too disturbed to offer a rational defense, not that they would have listened anyway. I just kept screaming and screaming and screaming and crying. When my tantrum went on for a while, Daddy lost his temper too.

“Kimmy, I can NOT drive like this!” He pulled the car to the side of the road and came around to the backseat. He lifted me up and put me over his lap. He angrily pulled down my panties and my tights and gave me a vicious, unhinged bare bottom spanking as I kicked my feet in petulant rage.

“I WANT MY DOLL!” -slap slap- “GO BACK AND LOOK!” -slap slap- “I WANT MY DOLLY...”

And it went on.

The physical pain melded with the mental pain of losing my best friend. It took about ten straight minutes of spanking but the combined anguish finally wore me out. I curled up in a ball in the back seat and cried and rubbed my bottom, as quietly as I could so as not to draw attention to myself again. The last thing I saw was Marie sleeping peacefully and Mommy and Daddy holding hands. I drifted away and only woke up again in my new house, in my new room, in a new crib with bars over the top, locked tight. I reached around in every direction, but couldn't find Dolly buried anywhere in the sheets. My nightmares returned, and there was no Dolly to comfort me.

A man enters a toy store holding the hand of a small girl with reddish hair. It's hard to tell her age exactly, she's in a ballet outfit that wouldn’t be too out of place on a teenager aside from the prissy tutu that marks her as a little girl. She isn't quite tall enough to make a distinction either way.

The man leads her by the hand to a display of dolls suitable for very little girls. He points out several, but she knowingly shakes her head. She has something special in mind.

She points up at one, he reaches up and presents it to her. She holds it like a young mother holding her baby, rocks it back and forth, shrugs and with a frustrated look hands it back to him. He puts it back where he found it.

They stay in the aisle for quite some time. The man presents her with a doll, she rejects it. Over and over, this is a little girl looking for a very particular, special doll.

It's near closing time, the man and the girl have evaluated nearly every doll in the store. They have not found one that meets her satisfaction.

The clerk, a teenage girl, knowing that the shopper's time is almost up and not wanting the pretty little girl to leave without getting what she wants approaches the man and his daughter.

“Little girl, can I help you find what you're looking for?”

The girl looks up at her and bites her lip, “I had a doll I really liked, she was my favorite, but my meany sister took her from me.”

The little girl pouts. “My daddy PROMISED he would get a new one that would make me just as happy but none of these are as special as she was.”

The clerk looks the man over, and the daughter. This is clearly a rich man and a very spoiled little brat, though a cute, sweet, spoiled little brat. She is obviously used to getting what she wants.

“Oh, let me show you our REALLY special dolls!”

She takes the girl's hand and leads her over to a display case for ridiculously expensive collectable dolls.

“Do you see anything you like here?”

The girl examines the offered dolls, with the same practiced eye. She spies one with braided auburn hair, in a tutu just like hers.

“Can I hold her?” she asks sweetly.

The clerk opens the case and offers the doll to the little girl. She hugs it and cradles at as she did the others. The clerk notes that when she completes the motion she has the same frustrated look she had with all the others, this doll did not make her as happy as her old one had, but she glances over at the price tag.

$200, the clerk notes, a collectable from some internet firm. Maybe worth the money if you keep it in mint condition but not worth it with a girl who is clearly so hands on...

The girl nods, “I love her and I want her and BUY HER FOR ME DADDY!” She stamps her foot.

She stares at her daddy with a look of determination and he quickly agrees to make the purchase.

“What a spoiled little brat,” the clerk thinks, “all she wanted to do was find the biggest price tag so she could make her father buy it for her, and he's a total pushover for her.”

A sale is a sale. The father pulls an impressively sharp and expensive looking knife from his pocket and cuts off all the tags while the little girl watches him closely to make sure he doesn't damage her new toy in the process. The little girl walks out clutching the doll. The father mumbles something about not throwing this one out the window. The clerk smirks again. The little brat tossed out her own favorite doll so she could have a new one.

The clerk was right in a way, the little girl did want to find the most expensive doll, not because she was a brat, but because she was looking for any possible way to make her father pay for what he does to her, and what had happened to her last doll while he did nothing but spank her in response.

If the clerk had walked out into the parking lot as the man and his daughter left she might have glanced into their car and seen that the father had the little girl pay him back for the purchase right away.

Several months later, I stood by the door waiting for the arrival of my favorite sister for Thanksgiving break. I was dressed in a fall themed little girl dress in warm colors. My new favorite doll is clutched in my arm in a similar outfit. She hasn't replaced my old doll, but Sassy (as I had named her) was my new best friend.

I had made some changes since we had moved, no longer was I dressed in old fashioned stereotypical poufy outfits, now I wore modern little girl styles that were the height of fashion and didn't make me look like some kind of freak show. No one in the new town knew I used to be a boy, so I was just a hip little girl that everyone admired.

It wasn't easy demanding Mommy make the changes, but I tossed so many tantrums they had to agree. Daddy didn't like it when his little princess was so unhappy with her clothes. He felt it reflected poorly on him as a Daddy.

It wasn't like I was asking to be a boy or anything, I just wanted to blend in. I was getting along great at ballet since none of my new friends knew my secrets.

My only embarrassing moments centered around my lingering inability to be fully potty trained, no matter what I did I would still have accidents at night when I was locked in my crib or at sleepovers or sometimes even during the day. In the grand scheme of humiliation, it didn't bother me that much though. At this point it was just who I am. I wore my Disney princess pullups when necessary and made the best of it.

I hadn't seen Marlena for months, so I was totally excited when she burst through the door. We hugged and kissed for what felt like hours and had a “sleepover” together in the guest bedroom, this time I wore pull-ups so I could make sure I would not pee the bed with her in it. I was very proud that in the morning I was dry and I didn't need the extra protection anyway.

We had a full week together and we made the most of it. We were inseparable. She was very concerned about me and asked how I was doing without her. I told her I was getting along better than expected and she was happy for me.

One day, during that week in which my troubles at first seemed to just float away, something happened that changed the course of my life forever.

Marlena was sorting through boxes of her old stuff that had been packed away with us even though she wasn't along for the move. I was helping her organize her things and I uncovered something that sent an electric bolt through my mind.

I lifted up the box and stared at it, transfixed. I'm not sure for how long. It was an image out of the nightmares I had while half asleep in my crib. In the dream, she was a vague shape, a young girl in a stained dress. Now that I saw her on the box I knew who she was. Alice, in a blue dress with a white pinafore, stained with blood. She held a butcher's knife. Her eyes were dark and mad. She was standing in a blood red heart, and to her side was a sickly and emaciated cheshire cat.

I giggled, insanely, as the realization hit me. My nightmare had been an old computer game I had played with Marlena. Lost in the past of my former boyhood...

...but it was more. I remembered the game. I had played so many games as a space marine or a crazy plumber or a race car driver, as an undead warlock or a general or a devious scientist. Alice, though, the mad murderous Alice had never quite resonated with me. A little girl in a cute dress who dispatches her enemies with nothing more than cleverness and a simple knife...

I was started out of my daydream by Marie who grabbed the box from me. Marlena had left the room at some point and I hadn't even noticed.

“This is NOT appropriate for little girls!” she scolded me.

I felt a wetness between my legs. I was in panties, not pullups, my fashionable fall dress was wet and ruined.

Marie took me back to my room by my ear and gave me a wicked spanking. Outside I screamed and kicked as usual, but I didn't really feel any of it inside, all I saw was Alice.

It's spring, the day of the wedding. I'm dressed in a lavender flower girl's dress with mountains of petticoats and all the accessories. My hair is back in my glorious auburn sausage curls. I look in the mirror after Marie finishes dressing me and doing my hair.

I'm heartstopping. I am the cutest little girl of all time. I can't wait to walk down the aisle, tossing petals and looking pretty for all the friends and family in attendance, even the ones who don't yet know who I used to be. Boy, will that be a surprise! I will never be this pretty again and I will never have this big an audience to appreciate it, unless my ballet dreams come true and I'm on a big stage someday!

I giggle.

Mommy takes my hand. As much as I hate her I have to admit she looks beautiful. Marie and Marlena and the rest of the bridesmaids look great as well. We pile in to the limo and make our way to the church. I have never felt so girly and pretty and happy.

We arrive at the church and enter through the backdoor, all the other girls head off to a dressing room but Mommy tells me she is taking me to her own room so we can share this special day together. I would rather spend it with Marlena.

We enter the room. Mommy locks the door behind us. I look up and Daddy John is in the room too, waiting. I'm confused and look to Mommy. A sinister laugh greets me, the same type of laugh Marie unleashes before she spanks me. I look around in fear but I don't know what exactly it is I should be afraid of.

My evil stepmother looks down at me, “Kimmy, you have to know it isn't me your father is interested in. His...attentions by now must have made that clear...”

I back into the corner in fear, of course I knew what my “Daddy” wants but I didn't know she was evil enough to be involved in it...

“I'm just marrying him for the money, what he gets out of the deal is...you.”

I begin to cry, John comes forward and lifts me up in his arms. “I told you I was saving your virginity for a special day...”

My fear and disgust began to hit me, and the brainwashing Cindy had given me began to kick in. I wanted the disgusting treatment. I wanted to be degraded and abused and penetrated by him and there was nothing I could do about it.

He set me down and had me bend over a desk. He pulled down my tights. He pulled down my panties. He let his pants fall to the ground. I reached behind me and lifted up my petticoats and skirts to give him the clearance he needed.

I could feel him behind me, the head of his cock rubbed the outside of my pussy. Suddenly, and without gentleness, he penetrated my girlhood. It hurt, but this pain felt good. Any fleeting, residual thoughts of my lost manhood floated away as he drilled me, slowly at first but harder and harder with each pump.

He made me love him again. I wanted to scream in pain or ecstasy but I knew my Daddy needed me to be quiet so I let him ride me and just softly whimpered. I thought earlier in the day I felt as girly and happy as could possibly be in my pretty flower girl dress and nice hair and cute makeup, but now I felt all those same girly emotions swelling up with the extra bonus of a huge cock filling me up right where I wanted it. I had waited for this for so long, I had begged him for it, and now we were both getting exactly what we wanted.

Mindful of the need for discretion, he fucked me quietly and I made no noise other then soft whimpers and the fluttering of my petticoats as I bounced back and forth on his dick. In a quiet, personal moment he spilled his seed and I quietly drifted away on the greatest orgasm of my life. I collapsed on the ground.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking down the aisle with rosy cheeks, wet panties, and an irrepressible smile, tossing petals as I pranced...a deflowered flower girl.

Several months later, the waking nightmares returned. I huddled in my crib and did not dare come up from under the sheets. Even so, the terror didn't stop. In the past, in this situation, Dolly would protect me. I held my new dolly Sassy in my arm as tight as I could and prayed for the fear to go away, but it wouldn't. I took a peek out from under the sheets and I saw her. A vague shape, a young girl in a stained dress. She held a butcher's knife, pointed at me.

“Please Dolly make her go away, please Dolly make her go away, please Dolly make her go away.” I chanted, but my new doll didn't cure my nightmares like the old one.

I looked up, there she was in the flesh by the side of my crib. A girl in a blue dress, a bloodstained pinafore, a knife. She raised up her weapon and plunged it into my mind.

And then I woke up. It was all a dream. None of it was real, none of it could be real. Turn me into a girl? It isn't even possible. I opened my eyes, it was real. Yes, of course it was real, you can't dream for that long. I reached down and felt my genitals, a girl. Yes, I am a girl, and I like it...but...

I thought about other things. Did I like ice cream? I used to love ice cream, I would do anything for it...No, it's okay I guess. Do I like men? Maybe...I guess....but being degraded and humiliated and....I vomited as I recalled what I had done with John. No, not like that...

The full horror of what they had done to me hit me all at once as the brainwashing faded away. I puked again. I cried. My mommy came. Yes, I remember her, what she did. I was lifted out of my crib, an intense feeling of vertigo overwhelmed me.

Mommy turned to Marie, “I think she's sick, we're going to have to do something....”

Marie, I remembered her, what she had done.

Things started to occur to me, options began to occur to me. I couldn't understand why I didn't see them before, it was so clear right now, what I have to do. Why didn't I think of it before? I could have done it right away. The brainwashing. There were things they didn't tell me about, but that they must have done...they made sure I would never think of it...

I'm handcuffed to the bed. John is drilling me painfully. There is no pleasure for me anymore. My false love for him left along with the rest of the brainwashing, but I fake it. The odor of alcohol on his breath makes me nauseous. It reminds me of the first time.

I moan. I giggle. I roll my eyes like his cock had made me see the face of god. The disgusting pig rolls off me, spent.

I stroke him, “Daddy, I know you like me helpless and handcuffed and I like it too but...you do so much work making me cum. Why don't you take these cuffs off and I'll do all the work for once?”

He smiles amiably and sets me free of the handcuffs. I mount him and ride him for what feels like hours. I urge him to cum in me again and again and again. I bring him more drinks. After a while, he falls asleep.

I handcuff him to the bed.

I go to my room and dress myself in my Alice in Wonderland outfit, light blue dress with a snow white pinafore. I return to his room and retrieve his knife from the pocket of his pants.

I go into my sister's room, my little sister, Marie. She is peacefully asleep. I wake her up, in her half awake state she looks at me in confusion and wonder.

“Why didn't John put you in your crib...what is that you're holding...YOU WILL GET SUCH A SPANKING FOR...”

She freezes in wide eyed, disbelieving fear as she realizes what I'm holding.

I put the knife to her throat, “YOU KILLED MY DOLLY!”

I walk downstairs. I notice a strange taste in my mouth, metallic and salty. Every part of me feels alive. I feel light as a feather, like I could just fly away, I become giggly and wide eyed.

My mommy is asleep on the couch. I wake her up.

“TIMMY, NO, YOU CAN'T, I'M SOR....”

I put the knife back in Daddy's pocket.

I look at my dress in the mirror. It's gone from soft blue and white to the most beautiful shade of red you could possibly imagine.

Part 2: The Woman In White

Chapter 9: Innocence

By the morning it was already big news. A very rich, successful, well known attorney had committed a double murder and raped his little stepdaughter. No one who knew him had seen it coming, no one had known about his dark secrets.

At first, the little girl was seen as an amazing hero. The 9-1-1 operator who handled the call would always remember it as the most horrifying moment of his life.

A soft, scared voice whimpered over the line, “Please sir, help me...” she whispered through her tears, “the blood is everywhere....my dress...”

Her voice sounded haunted and far away, “My daddy...he attacked my mommy and my sister...and he did things to me...”

The operator had already dispatched the paramedics and police to the house. “Is he still there, are you safe?”

“He, he fell asleep....he was drinking...before when he hurt me he handcuffed me to the bed...” she continued in obvious pain, “I used the cuffs on him.”

The operator couldn't believe his ears. Despite the man's brutal rampage the little girl had the courage to sneak into his room and restrain him after he passed out, it probably saved her life. If he were to wake before the police arrived she might not survive if he was free.

“Help will be there soon, where are you in the house?”

“Thank you. Please make them hurry! Please save my sister and my mommy! I don't know what I'll do if they die...I love them so much...please help!”

He could hear a man's voice screaming in the background, obviously enraged.

He spoke urgently, “Hide! He might break free.”

“I don't want to leave my mommy!”

He repeated in a firm voice, “Go, now!”

The line went dead.

My name is Jessica, I'm a police officer and an Army reservist. I was the one would found her hidden in that closet. Under the circumstances it wasn't a very effective hiding place, but nowhere would have been. She left a trail of blood and red footprints. It started in her sister's room where she had embraced her sister and tried to revive her, then down the stairs, and back up to her father as he slept. Back down the stairs, to where she had called the police and hugged her dying mother.

When I opened the door I was greeted with a sight from a horror movie. A pretty little angel in a stained dress and apron. She was bathed in crimson from head to toe. It was on her face, and even in her cute braided hair.

I made eye contact with her. It was like looking into an abyss. I knew right away she seemed insane. I took a step back in fear before I realized what I was doing. This bloodstained monster wasn't the killer, she was a victim. She was just a little girl who had been raped and watched her family die, of course her eyes wouldn't look right. I picked her up and carried her from the room with her head on my shoulder like a baby. It was bad timing.

She could see behind me, they were taking her father away in handcuffs. He was covered in blood too. She struggled in my arms. She reached up and tore a necklace from her throat and tossed it on the ground in front of him. Later, as we reviewed the horrible crime scene, I would learn the necklace spelled the words “Daddy's Girl.”

The killer, John, looked shocked and kept screaming, “WHAT IS HAPPENING WHAT IS HAPPENING WHAT DID I DO!?”

He saw the blood drenched girl and went into a panic. He looked into the room on his left and saw the paramedics vainly attempting to resuscitate a teenaged girl.

“I DIDN'T DO IT, I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WAS HER!” he pointed towards the little girl I was holding.

“You sick fuck!” one of the officers shouted.

I carried her out of the house as quickly as I could to spare her any more of this. Behind me I could hear my disgusted fellow officers toss the man to the ground as he struggled. I heard the sounds of clubs and boots hitting flesh and muffled screams. Later that night one of the other officers said the girl was smiling like a cheshire cat at that moment. As I got to know how ill she was, it didn't surprise me.

It didn't take long for the rest of the story to come out. Things were not exactly as they seemed. Any murder in a town like this would be news but with the twist this story had no reporter would bury it for anything. The heroic little girl was born a boy, and she was actually much older than she pretended to be. No one had known in our town but the girl was a minor celebrity where she had recently moved from.

The man was wealthy and he had very good lawyers. He had his own story of what happened and the lawyers set out to prove it.

If there had been any other explanation, he never would have settled on the story he chose. He knew the law and what he was facing. The crimes he was accused of could lead to the death penalty. The ones he actually confessed would not. He weaved a tale in which the boy had been forced to become a girl by his family. They had abused him in every possible way with physical, mental, and sexual abuse. With mutilation, isolation, and brainwashing. They enforced total emasculation against his will.

The girl claimed she had willingly undergone a sex change. She had known her whole life she wanted to be a girl. She dropped out of high school and became depressed. She wasted her life and couldn't bring herself to do anything but hang around the house all day. Her family confronted her about her depression and she broke down and told them how she felt. They encouraged her to embrace her desires and helped make it happen. She told them her name was Kimmy.

She told them she didn't just want to be a girl, she felt like she missed out on her childhood. She wanted to start back from the beginning for a while and live the little girl's life she always wanted.

They did some research and realized the things she wanted were not quite standard requests and doctors would shy away from such a case. They found a woman, Kimmy never knew her as anything other than Auntie Cindy (who she claimed to love very much), who performed various treatments in secret and off the record to give Kimmy what she desired.

The man talked about this Cindy too, but said she only did things off the record and in secret because she performed forced procedures against the will of the patients and used experimental brainwashing techniques.

The police never did manage to find her. The building the man sent us to had burnt to the ground two nights after the murders. His lawyers claimed it must have been arson, she was covering her tracks because she knew her role in all this would soon come to light.

There was no evidence to determine who was telling the truth on this and no one could find anything real about this Cindy or who she was. The rental documents for the building led to nothing but phony corporations. She probably did burn it herself to cover her tracks, but she would have motivation to do that no matter what the truth of the matter was. If Kimmy was telling the truth about her, Cindy would still be on the hook for operating an unlicensed medical practice.

His case was not looking good, witness after witness came forward and swore with confidence that the girl had told them, proudly and with enthusiasm, that she had willingly become a girl with the encouragement of her family and that she was living a dream.

She had knocked on every door in her neighborhood and announced she was now a little girl and was very proud of it. We canvassed them all. One man had a history of child abuse and seemed nervous and suspicious, but that was probably just because someone with his kind of history is always scared around cops. One woman and her son seemed to be holding something back, as if they knew there was more to the story, but they didn't say anything even when we pressured them.

She had been to a mall to find a costume for Halloween. A crowd of witnesses stepped forward to testify that the girl would happily try on any girl's costume but couldn't be dragged into a boy scout's uniform. That night the girl said she demanded never to be a boy again and had her final operation immediately.

She was in a ballet class and all the little girls, even one who seemed to seethe with hated when discussing her, agreed that she was quite open about wanting to be a girl and that dancing ballet was her most favorite thing in the world. Just try and get a jury to disagree with fifteen earnest little girls who all told the same story unrehearsed.

Honestly, that whole ballet thing makes me want to puke. I played softball when I was a little girl, it's a lot more fun.

Anyway, she had handed out flyers at the mall before her first dance recital and witnesses stepped forward to say that when they received their flyer you couldn't stop the girl from telling you she used to be a boy but willingly made the change. I know eyewitnesses can be unreliable, but who couldn’t remember with perfect clarity an unusual moment like that? Most of them even kept the flyer they were so tickled! She was so convincing they couldn't believe she had ever really been a boy, they thought it was a publicity stunt to get more people to come and watch the performance.

They said that after the recital she sat on a bench in an adorable Little Bo Peep costume, licking an ice cream cone with the most pure and honest look of happiness you could possibly imagine.

John claimed they had forced her to do all of that with threats of beating and further torture, but why should that stop her when she could simply run to the first police officer or authority figure she saw and be free? Brainwashing, he had claimed, in a last desperate attempt to save his skin.

In court, the moment was like something out of a movie. The prosecutor stared at him, and spoke calmly and sternly.

“Yes, you claimed she had been brainwashed so that she could resist in little ways, so you and her sisters and mother could have an excuse to spank her and abuse her for your sick amusement. However, right from the start any major resistance such as going to the police or running away would never even occur to her.”

He paused.

“So how, as you claim, could she have killed them?”

It was a wonder his defense lawyers even agreed to defend him with a story like that. The only thing that made them agree was the other key witness, the surviving sister named Marlena who was away at her private boarding school the night of the killings. When first interviewed, she backed up some of his story. She said her family really did force the boy to become a girl. She broke down in tears and confessed her role in it.

Later, she recanted her story. She said a few months before the murders she had learned the man was raping Kimmy. He threatened her to keep her silent and gave her a crazy story to rehearse in case anything ever came to light. Then, he sent her to boarding school so she wouldn't get in the way.

In court, she was not entirely convincing. She was nervous and sometimes contradicted herself and some of the established evidence. It seemed the jury was less convinced by her words, but more by the way she said them. When she spoke of her stepfather her voice was full of rage and venom, when she spoke of her sister she was soft and loving. She did not strike anyone in the courtroom as the type who would participate in the brutal torture of a sibling.

He was found covered in blood with the murder weapon in his pocket and his only defense was to try and put his clearly innocent little stepdaughter on trial. The jury found him guilty.

The girl watched the whole trial from the front row, seated next to me. If she had been a real little girl no one would have let her be present for all of that. Forced to relive the night of the murder and the times he had molested her, but as far as the law was concerned she was an adult. She could make her own choices.

She wore a variety of midnight black dresses in elaborate styles. They seemed carefully chosen to suggest childishness without suggesting playfulness. A childhood cut off, a little girl with no family.

Most of the time she sat stoned faced and vacant, but she listened to every word of the trial. At appropriate times she would look over at the jury or judge with pleading, sad, puppy dog eyes. She would look down in shame, or up in anger. If she was a little actress, she was a great one.

Only when they announced the verdict did she seem happy and relieved. She smiled and kicked her feet playfully. They led him from the courtroom in chains, to jail and possibly death row. As they led him away she said only one thing to him. He and I were the only ones who heard.

“You're going to have so much fun.”

As she said it her eyes were again like a cold abyss. Her right arm was held out as if there was someone holding her hand.

As we left she wiped her hand on her dress as if the invisible hand she had been holding was somehow tainted. She looked down in frustration at her skirt as if she had left a stain. As I looked in those cold eyes I saw her soaking with blood in a closet and for the first time since that instant when I first encountered her, she frightened me.

*

The policewoman carries me through the chaos to the paramedics, she brings me to the ambulance and lays me down. The paramedics look on me with terror in their eyes, the same look the nice policewoman had when she opened the door.

I feel a pinch, a needle. I start to feel calm, tranquil. They sedated me.

The ambulance starts to move, they cut away my dress. I protest in a slurred voice, “Heyyy, that was my favorite new red dress, you ruined it....”

Their hands are shaking as they check me for injuries, they can't believe none of the blood is my own. They look to my panties and see I had indeed bled, the rapist had torn me up inside.

Experienced paramedics, but not prepared for a horror like this. I feel another pinch, more drugs. I float on a cloud, “You guys...you guys look like YOU could use some of thissss...”

I hum a tune from Giselle, I see the dancers in my mind surrounding Hilarion in the second act....I smile as consciousness fades away.

I awoke in a hospital room, in a bed under warm covers. My doll, Sassy, is beside me. I hold her tightly to my chest. I look to my right, the girl from my nightmare is sitting in a chair by the window. No longer a vague shape or a cartoon Alice... her face is mine. Her dress is ruby red, the pigment drips onto the floor and forms a puddle. It flows down from her disheveled braided hair. Her face is stoic, but her eyes drip crimson tears forming lines down her face.

My face.

I look away to my left. Two corpses lay on the ground, my sister Marie and my stepmother Kathy. The stench of death overpowers my senses. The two heads move, they look up at me and stare. I turn away again.

I look straight ahead. A gallows, John drops with a sudden motion, he struggles and jerks back and forth. He becomes still. I stare ahead in horror for several minutes. Suddenly he raises his hand, a necklace dangles from his fingers.

I scream. I try to wake myself up. I bang my fists into my head repeatedly. A nurse comes into the room, she restrains me and holds me down, another nurse rushes in and I feel a pinch. I can still see them all, the monster I had become and the victims I had taken. The sedative doesn't work, I kick and scream and beg to be taken to another room. They strap me down. When they leave the room the doll is left sitting on my chest, staring at me.

Sassy's eyes come alive. My old doll spoke to me many times during my eternal nights locked in the crib. Back then I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination, but it was clear now it was a bit more serious than that.

The doll spoke, “I saw everything. I know what you did, you naughty girl. You killed them, you framed him. They WILL find out, they probably already know. You little freak. I'll tell them.”

I whisper, “No Sassy, please don't tell them, please don't tell them...we're friends...”

The doll responds, “No one is friends with YOU Kimmy, you're a disgusting little monstrosity.”

The monster in the red dress leans over the bed, blocking out the view of my accuser. She speaks to me, “They won't find out, we did it just like we planned. It was perfect, you were great. An avenging spirit. They deserved it, they made you do it. No one will ever spank you again, or humiliate you for fun, or rape you, or brainwash you. They killed your favorite dolly who only ever said nice things about you and left you with...her. I'm the only friend you need now, Kimmy.”

She backs away and takes her seat by the window and watches me. I look at the doll on my chest. “I hate you. I never wanted you. SHUT UP!”

The doll falls silent. The corpses and the gallows fade away. The monster in the red dress remains, watching me.

No one can know, no one can ever know. Even my best friends will hate me if they ever know, just like Sassy. The monster is the only one I can trust. I am calm. A woman in a police uniform enters the room. I remember her. She was kind.

Before she can speak I shout, “GET THIS DOLL AWAY FROM ME I HATE HER!”

She is startled, but she takes the doll off my chest and puts it off to the side. I can hear Sassy snickering at me, “I'lllll tellllll....” she taunts in an exaggerated sing-song voice.

My voice is icy, “No, take her outside and throw her out.”

The policewoman looks shocked and heads for the door.

I recall something... ”Wait, policelady...I really don't want her anymore but she was very expensive and I took perfect care of her...find some other girl to give her to, okay?”

The monster giggles at me, “Good idea, if she tells some silly little girl what you did no one will believe her.”

The policewoman nods and leaves the room for a while, she comes back empty handed.

She sits by the bed. “Hello, we haven't formally met. My name is Jessica, what's your name?”

“Kimmy.” I reply curtly.

She smiles at me. “And how old are you, Kimmy?”

I look over at the monster, who is still watching me. I don't know how old I'm supposed to be, really. The monster shrugs.

“I'm a little girl.”

Jessica looks concerned, but continues. “Okay Kimmy, according to the records we have your name is Timmy and you're an adult male...so you can see how we're all very confused.”

The monster comes to my side and whispers in my ear, “Just like we planned, the story is flawless. They will never know.”

I began calmly and hesitantly, “I was born a boy but...I always really wanted to be a girl...”

She let me out of the restraints.

I told her the story, she held my hand. She hung on my every word, ate up every lie big and small. When I explained how happy I was when I first put on a dress, when I told her how I begged and pleaded to have an operation and finally got it, how much I begged for ballet lessons...she believed every word. She smiled and laughed at my enthusiasm.

She held me tight when I explained about John, about how he abused me. She promised me he could never hurt me again. I cried and wailed about my lost family and she did her best to comfort me. I could see the monster applauding my acting job and nodding enthusiastically.

When I was finished Jessica sat silently for a long while. She had more questions.

“Why didn't you want your dolly? I was never into dolls much when I was a girl so maybe I just don't understand, but no little girl I've ever known would suddenly decide she didn't want her favorite dolly anymore if dolls were her thing.”

One of the corpses reappeared on the ground, it was laughing at me. I stared down at it in shocked horror. It was pointing to the window.

“What are you looking at Kimmy?” Jessica asked and studied me quizzically.

The monster came to my side and whispered again, “Keep it together, almost done...I'll handle her.” She raised her knife and made a move toward the other side of the room. I reached up and held her back.

Jessica saw me, reaching towards nothing. She held back my hand. The monster finished her work, I watched it happen, again.

“NOO! DON'T KILL HER DON'T KILL HER!!!” I screamed and Jessica watched in horror as I turned on my side and covered my face in the pillow.

Jessica soothed me, “It's okay Kimmy, it's okay. You don't have to answer any more questions, you've been through so much...”

I looked up at her, the corpse was gone. I composed myself, “No...it's okay now.”

“I do love dolls, but not that one. I...lost...my favorite doll and she was the replacement. I never liked her quite as much and...I was hiding in my room and holding her when it happened. I just hear the screams over and over when I look at her...she reminds me of what he did to them...and me.”

The monster nodded.

Jessica replied, “I'm sorry, Kimmy. I had to ask because at first it seemed to me like you might want to be rid of her because you really wanted to be a boy and you wanted to be free of this girly stuff. You see, that bad man is saying things about you...but I can see they aren't true now. But your sister Marlena said that one was your favorite doll so I didn't know why you reacted like that...”

“Marlena? Is she here? I want my sister. I want my sister! Please, why isn't she here?” I started to cry.

“Kimmy, she said some things too. I know they aren't true, he must have threatened her and made her say it, but we can't let her see you until this is all sorted out, if what she said about you is true...”

“IT'S NOT!” I shouted.

“I know,” she replied soothingly, “but for now there isn't anything I can do about it. Is there anything else I could do to make you feel better?”

“Marlena gave me a Barbie doll, THAT one is my favorite now. It reminds me of her, please get it for me.”

That night I slept peacefully. Marlena's doll didn't drive away the monster, or speak to me. It just reminded me of Marlena and that sometime soon this would all be over and she and I could be together.

*

Chapter 10: The Guard Dog

The next day they transferred her to a mental hospital for evaluation. I believed her story, but I couldn't avoid telling the doctors I had seen her hallucinating. The nurses saw much the same, so it wouldn't have mattered either way. The trauma of her rape and seeing her murdered family had obviously pushed poor Kimmy's mind past the breaking point.

She didn't have a good time in the hospital. Because of her true age and the cloud of suspicion over her she couldn't be around children, but adults or even teenagers intimidated and frightened her. They kept her isolated most of the time.

She seemed to have a lot of trouble sleeping. She would fall out of her bed, apparently she had gotten used to a crib as part of her desire to relive childhood. Sometimes, she wet the bed. She would have terrible dreams. They would find her outside her room, crying or trying to wander away somewhere and talking to herself. At one point they tried to lock her in her room at night, for her own safety, she screamed and begged to be let out, non-stopped. They relented but made her promise not to wander around at night anymore. She kept her promise. She was more afraid of being locked in than any of the other things that were tormenting her.

I would visit her, we had a connection. Once, I brought her a treat, a bowl of ice cream. Her sister had promised this would cheer her up, that it was one of her favorite things. It didn't seem to be true, she ate it glumly. She gave me a little, phony, smile to show her appreciation. Her eyes were dull with deep black circles underneath.

Every time I came she would beg to see her sister. It broke my heart to have to refuse her. She would react with extreme anger and frustration, throw a tantrum and stamp her feat and scream terrible things at me, or just haughtily ignore me like a little princess. I tried to be gentle when it happened. If I even made a hint of a more strong response she would begin to cower immediately and beg forgiveness pathetically...she was afraid of what I might do to her if she made me angry.

Even so, the doctors said she responded better to me than anyone else there. She walked around in a fog, seeming to take interest in nothing. She would stare blankly at a wall or out a window for hours while mindlessly combing her Barbie doll's hair and become startled and panicked when anyone approached her.

She hated the doctors and all their questions. She cooperated with them, and answered as best she could, but she wouldn't open up on her own and they had the strong impression she was holding something back. Even so, they could never catch her in a lie.

Weeks went by and she never seemed to make any improvement in finding sound sleep. I think I was the one who helped turn that around, though I wasn't really expecting to at the time. I brought her a present. It wasn't anything big or fancy, just a stuffed toy we had a bunch of around the station as a sort of a mascot. We gave them away to kids all the time.

As usual I greeted her and she asked me about her sister. She had her tantrum and when I looked like I was losing patience with her she ran and cowered in the corner promising to be good.

I approached her with as much gentleness as I could. “Kimmy, I know you mostly like dolls and more girly things, but all you have with you here is your Barbie doll and that can't be much fun to cuddle with...”

Kimmy looked intrigued, her crying softened and she turned to look at me. I revealed a large stuffed police dog, complete with a “K-9 Unit” vest and a badge, with a big goofy red tongue sticking out and big friendly eyes. Her face lit up and she smiled. For the first time I was seeing the pretty, happy girl her sister Marlena had described.

I continued, “I know you don't feel safe at night, and you have bad dreams and even see scary things when you're awake. I thought this might help remind you there are people who care about you, about protecting you. People who will punish anyone who EVER tries to hurt you again.”

I held up the dog to her and spoke in a gruff, doggy voice, “Rut ro rou rhink, rhimmy?”

She took the dog from me and cradled it in her arms with a twinkle in her eye. She hugged it tightly, a look of frustration vanished from her face. I hadn't even noticed that look was there, it had been present since I first met her. Now her face was serene and tranquil. She hummed to herself and rocked the dog back and forth in her arms like a baby.

She whispered to the toy, “I've been looking for someone like you...ever since...”

She shook her head as if vanquishing a bad memory and turned to me “Awww, thank you, I love him Jessica. His name is Rex,” she told me still hugging and smiling, “But Jessica....”

“Yes?” I replied.

“Jessica....dogs can't talk, you're being silly. Are you sure you don't belong in here too?”

She laughed. I wasn't sure if she was making fun of me or having a joke that only made sense in her own little world, but I didn't care. Her joy was real.

*

After she gave me Rex I could sleep again. Not every night, and not peacefully, but I slept and occasionally found restful oblivion with him in my arms. I would still see them all, tormenting me, but I knew they couldn't hurt me anymore.

Some nights I couldn't make the fear go away. On those nights I desperately wanted to leave my room. To leave the hospital. I felt trapped, smothered. I would get out of my bed and wrap myself in a blanket and sit in the corner with Rex beside me. I would play with my Barbie doll. I would think of Marlena, and Jessica.

I would wait for dawn in my corner or I would get up and stretch or pace. I didn't mind so much that I couldn't sleep. I would sleep when I was truly tired. I remembered the crib, the lock. I couldn't stretch, I couldn't go to the corner, I couldn't pace. I couldn't use the bathroom or I would be wet and sticky and itchy and disgusted.

From the darkness outside I could hear Mommy laughing at me. Her voice whispered to me, “They will catch you, lock you away forever.”

I mumbled under my breath, “I'll never be locked up again. I'll never be kept in a cage like an animal. How do you like being trapped in YOUR little box? Or did they burn you? I never bothered to find out. Actually, I don't care.”

I would go to the door and open it. I tasted the freedom. I wasn't locked in. I was staying of my own free will. I'm not trapped. I'm staying because they asked me to. I'm not trapped, I'm not trapped, I'm not trapped.

When I talked to the doctors I did what the monster told me. I was scared, confused, and living in a fog. She was indifferent, calculating, and remembered everything. She kept me from making mistakes, from admitting things I shouldn't.

Now that I was sleeping again some of the hazy confusion lifted from my logical mind. I remembered that I had always wondered what a doctor would make of me by the time my family was done with their torture.

Sometimes I wanted to tell them everything, to tell them the whole truth. It was an intoxicating temptation, to let them know how truly deranged my experiences were. Not just so they could truly help me, but so they could help me understand my family and why they did this to me.

The monster wouldn't let me. “John must pay, Kimmy, or they will lock you away. All day, all night. Every day until you die. No Marlena, no dollies. No guard doggy, no nice policelady. Just them. Marie and Mommy, laughing at you, trapped forever just like they wanted. No doctors can help you, I'll help you.”

She whispered it in my ear, over and over.

I told them enough to explain the symptoms I couldn't hide. I repeated the details the monster told me over and over until I didn't even need her help. I couldn't sleep because I had nightmares about rape. I had flashbacks and hallucinations of John killing my family. I was claustrophobic because I feared for my life while hiding in a closet. I told them nothing of the long term daily torture and misery aside from what John had done. I had to bury the rest of the pain inside me.

They asked me about why I chose to be a girl, how long I had felt that way, and other things. I explained to them why I liked being a girl now and pretended I had felt that way before the change. That part was easy.

In my free time I would listen to classical music on the radio and practice my ballet. It was like meditation. The music would relax me and I would move my body and clear my head of any emotion, any pain. I would imagine myself totally relaxed. I would remember taking a shower with Marlena, in a bubble of warmth and peace and serenity and relaxation where no matter how vulnerable I was no one would hurt me.

Occasionally my sickness would try and drag me out of it.

I would see Marie watching me, still covered in blood with a bloated corpse face. She held her riding crop.

“You call THAT a Plié, Kimmy!? Did you just start taking classes YESTERDAY? You are NOT going to embarrass me at your recital you little brat, come over here and take your medicine!”

She would raise her riding crop threateningly, but she would look to the stuffed police dog and back away as if it was growling and barking at her menacingly. I continued my practice.

“Oh GOD Kimmy, I'm GLAD you murdered me. I would have blown my own brains out if a little sister of mine did a Pirouette that sloppy in public. What kind of meds do they have you on? Are you DRUNK? Come over here and take the crop, Kimmy. I don't think you can dance without it.”

1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4. You won't hurt me anymore. 1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4. I counted along with the rhythm and kept dancing, never leaving my happy bubble until I was tired or the music stopped.

Jessica kept visiting me, and I started to like her more and more. She was kind and strong and when I was around her she gave me confidence. I was so used to feeling weak and vulnerable and alone, but with her around I felt secure.

One time she told me she was allowed to take me out for the day. I was very happy for any chance to get away from the hospital. She even brought me a new outfit to wear, a simple yellow sundress. I hadn't had a chance to really pretty myself up lately since there wasn't much point, being stuck where I was, so it took me a while to get ready.

She held my hand as she walked me to her car. I felt great, fresh and clean and pretty. Jessica rolled her eyes at how obvious it was my mood had improved just from regaining some vanity. She didn't seem like the type who you could cheer up just with a new outfit.

“So, where are we going, Jessica?”

She replied, “Well, I was thinking the zoo. I've always loved animals and I bet you do too.”

I looked away, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but she saw it in my face before I turned. It hit me out of nowhere, anger and fear as intense as can be.

Jessica was obviously concerned, “What's wrong, Kimmy, you just looked really frightened...?”

“It's nothing, Jessica.”

“Kimmy, that wasn't nothing, you looked really scared. Today is for you, to help you feel better. I would never take you somewhere you don't want to go, but can you tell me why?”

“I don't like cages.” I whispered.

Jessica nodded in understanding, remembering my claustrophobia. She led me to the car while rattling off some other ideas of fun things to do. I wasn't listening, it was true the cages made me a little nervous, but there was something else...

Marlena pulls me along by the hand. My feet hurt, I want to die. I'm wearing pull-up disposable training panties with frilly white rhumba panties covering them, white tights, a frilly purple dress with stiff petticoats, white Mary Janes, and a big white bow in my hair. Somehow, the bow is the worst part. It's only been a few weeks since they forced me to become a girl, I'm not used to being out in public at all. I HATE these clothes. They make me feel helpless and weak and exposed like the little girl they are trying to force me to be, and being pulled along by my now vastly stronger younger sister is just making the feeling worse.

It's so humiliating, I want to die. Three balloons, two purple and one white, are attached to my left wrist by a string and they float above me as I walk. At Marlena's insistence, a “treat” for me, my face has been painted like a cat by a zoo employee. I now sport painted on whiskers, a cute catlike nose, and exaggerated eyebrows. In my right hand I hold a cotton candy, another treat I didn't ask for. With no free hands I can't keep my elaborate petticoat under control and I just know I'm showing off my childish underwear.

“Look Kimmy, a petting zoo! Doesn't that sound fun?” she asks me.

It isn't worth it to refuse, it didn't help when I said no to any of her other ideas. “Yes, Marlena.” I obediently replied.

I cautiously feed a few animals from my palm, they scare me. I know they aren't likely to bite, but even a minor scratch of any kind is too much for me to take thanks to the low pain tolerance they gave me. I'm more reluctant to approach the domesticated petting zoo animals than any of the other little kids around me, my new peers. They laugh at me, at my obvious cowardice and fear and my ridiculous outfit, painted face, and balloons. I want to die.

Marlena drags me along again. “Look Kimmy, pony rides!”

“I don't want to ride a pony Marlena! I'm tired and my feet hurt and this is humiliating, just take me home now, PLEASE!”

“Well, I guess it has been a long day, sis. Just ride the pony a little bit and let me take a picture and we can go, okay? Just do it for me, I've gotten you so many treats today and used up my whole weekend so you can have fun here, it's the least you can do for me.”

I'm so angry I can barely see. She knows damn well I didn't want any of her treats, didn't want to be here at all. But there was nothing I could do. Try and hit her and run away? She could take me in a fight now with her eyes closed, though that wasn't her way. She would hug me and tickle me trying to persuade me nicely till I pissed my panties, which was probably worse. Throw a tantrum? It would just cost me more of my rapidly deteriorating male pride and accomplish nothing besides attracting more attention and laughter in my direction from the rest of the zoo patrons.

“Ok, Marlena, I'll ride the stupid pony.” I say with a pout.

She smiles and helps me on to the pony and backs away to take a picture. I become self conscious and struggle with my unfamiliar skirts, trying to push my petticoats down over my panties for modesty. With my hands occupied in this humiliating task I lose my balance and fall from the pony.

I hit the muddy ground on my side with a thud. It wasn't really that bad a fall, but with my increased sensitivity to pain it becomes the most incredibly agonizing experience of my life. It feels like my arm is broken. I can't stop myself from breaking into hysterical crying as every eye in the vicinity turns to see what the commotion is. I feel the tell-tale warmth that means I wet my training panties, I'm in too much pain to try and stop the flow and I can feel the urine leaking out. It was the most pathetic moment of my pathetic new life.

The patrons watched as a little girl walked out of the zoo that day. She was in an amazingly frilly old fashioned dress. Her face was painted like a kitten, but the makeup streaked and ran amidst unrestrained tears. Three balloons bounced up and down as she rubbed her arm in obvious pain. The frilly dress was muddy and ruined. Her reddish-brown curly hair, most likely stunningly pretty at most times, was caked with dirt. There was an obvious dampness running down her white tights.

She was muttering under her breath as she cried and walked, tugged along by a horrified looking older girl. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I'll never forget this, I hate you....”

Back in the present I started to hyperventilate a bit. My fists were balled up around the material of my skirt, going white with strain. Everything around me looked hazy. I felt like I was going to pass out.

I...had forgotten. My favorite sister, my protector, my “friend.” I looked in the mirror and saw the monster in the back seat, sharpening her knife...I felt panic start to overwhelm me, what else could I have forgotten?

“Kimmy, are you okay? We aren't going to the zoo, I told you...”

Jessica looked at me quizzically, and to the back seat where of course there was nothing to see.

“Is there anything you especially want to do? I'm out of suggestions I think...”

“Ahh, sorry Jessica, I was daydreaming and I wasn't listening.” I tried to steady my emotions. “Sorry. I've been reading about a new Disney movie called “Tangled”, I really want to see it, do you think you could take me?”

She rolled her eyes a bit, I think she may have already suggested it while my mind was elsewhere, but she smiled and agreed.

“Oh, thank you Jessica, Disney movies are my favorite and I've always loved the story of Rapunzel because...”

I stopped, from the backseat the monster had given one of my braids a gentle tug. Right, I can't tell her I identified with Rapunzel because I also spent a long time isolated and locked away, waiting for someone to come rescue me. I couldn't tell her I wasn't rescued by a prince, but by my own hand and a police officer who found me hiding in a closet...

“Kimmy, Kimmy, drop down your knife. Lie and cry to escape the strife.” the monster whispered. I shuddered.

“...well anyway, you're a good friend Jessica, thank you again for taking me out.”

I enjoyed the movie. It was funny and innocent, sweet and exciting. Jessica and I held hands and laughed together. Afterwords she took me to a park and we walked. I loved being outside, breathing the air, walking as far as I wanted. We sat on a bench together.

“Kimmy, they're gonna let you out soon, I think. I don't know if you've thought about what you want to do but you'll have to find somewhere to stay. You don't have to worry about money, from what your mother left and the restitution you'll get from John...”

She looked a bit nervous at first, but continued resolutely, “...but I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me. I have a few empty rooms in my house and I could use the company, it gets lonely sometimes. When the courts settle everything your sister could stay too if she wanted...I just don't think you should be alone. I think you need good friends around you. And I like you, you're so strong even though you've had such a tough time. All those terrible things John did to you and your family... and being stuck in a hospital...but you get up and face every day and every new challenge as best you can even though you're scared and sick. I like having you around, you make me feel like I can face adversity and pull through too.”

I teared up from happiness, it had been a long time since anyone had ever considered me strong. I was too choked up to talk, I just nodded several times and hugged her.

“And Kimmy, I know you love Rex but I think it would be nice to get you a real puppy. All the doctors say that can be really therapeutic.”

“Oh, That sounds wonderful Jessica, I would love to move in with you.” I finally managed to tell her through my happy crying.

My mood started to improve, knowing I would soon have my freedom again. I kept practicing my ballet in my free time and doing my best not to get lost in the terrors my mind wanted to pull me down into. The nurses started to notice how much the music and the dancing helped me cope, they brought me more things to try and help.

One brought me a yoga video, it was okay, but I needed something a bit more active. The key to helping me find calm required intensity in body and in mind. The yoga was more slow and deliberate and my thoughts would wander off to dark places and I would lose my sense of calm.

Another nurse brought me a step aerobics video, it was a nice workout but it was too repetitive and didn't engage my mind...the dark thoughts crept back in.

Another nurse brought me something I really liked. It was an aerobic kickboxing video. I loved it, it was suitably intense and engaging and I was able to lose myself in it just like I wanted.

Every day the nurses would watch me, in my tight pink sweatpants and white tank top, punching and kicking and juking back and forth like a martial arts expert.

My stepmother would also watch me sometimes, laughing at my graceful and intense but totally feeble efforts.

“Ah, my silly little Kimmy. Couldn't even win a fight with a ten year old girl, no matter how much you work out. Cindy and I saw to that.”

Sometimes I talked back to my delusion, if there were no nurses watching, “If I need to fight a ten year old girl I guess I'll just have to...sneak up on her in her sleep with a knife? Yeah, that might work!”

The monster giggled, so did I. My mother glared down at me in disapproval, “One day they WILL find out Miss Kimmy, and when they lock you up forever you WILL be trapped with me, and I will make you regret what you did, you little psycho. I'll make you wish you could go back to how your life used to be, that crib will look like heaven!”

I rolled my eyes, and tossed Rex at her, she went away for a while.

Just as Jessica had predicted, the doctors soon decided I could be discharged. Officially they diagnosed me with PTSD, a fairly severe case of it considering the amount of hallucinations I routinely suffered, and I never let them know even remotely how bad they really were, but if they had decided it was schizophrenia or something they would not have let me go so soon.

I would never be cured. I would have to do my best to cope and work through my issues. I didn't care about any of that. I was just happy to be free to live my life how I wanted. No more living on someone else's schedules, under their rules.

They also confirmed my gender dysphoria was genuine. I had never been to a real doctor about it before since the transition was done illicitly but it was pretty much a foregone conclusion at this point. I was lying through my teeth of course about wanting to be a girl before all this, lies and more lies on top of more lies, but I didn't care. The monster made sure the lies were good ones.

Jessica picked me up from the hospital and rolled her eyes at my pretty, prissy appearance in a pink floral skirt and white blouse with pink lace, my hair perfectly braided. It was a good day, and looking pretty made me feel good. If Jessica couldn't understand that it was her own problem.

Jessica took me home and led me to my new room. Her house was smaller than I was used to, but it was cozy and warm. It felt like a home. I saw pictures on the wall. A younger looking Jessica as a kid and in high school. She was cute, but even then you could tell she was a stronger than average girl and a tomboy.

There was a picture of her in an Army uniform, and as a younger police officer in a dress uniform. There were pictures of her with a man I didn't know and a little girl. She opened the door to my new room. It was obviously a girl's room, with pink walls and a big pink bed with a canopy. There were boxes of my things to one side of the room, my toys and dolls and clothing brought over from my old house by the movers. I certainly never intended to visit there again. There were other things too, this room hadn't been set up for me, it had been used before.

Jessica sat down beside me on the bed. “Kimmy, I guess I should have talked to you about this before but it's so hard.” She started to sniffle a bit as she went on, her tough facade fading for the first time.

“I've...lost people I loved too. It was a car accident...I was away with my reserve unit in Afghanistan. It was supposed to be ME who was risking her life everyday.”

She was crying full force now. I got up and brought her a tissue and put my arm around her and my head on her shoulder. I spent enough time crying my eyes out to know how much a person needs to be comforted in a situation like this.

“...it was a car accident. I lost them both, my husband Dave and my daughter Julie. You would have liked them Kimmy. He was kind and loving and strong and funny. He was so protective of his family, he would do anything for us. She was mischievous and sweet and hyperactive, sometimes she could be like a little tornado, she never stopped.” She smiled a little bit.

“She was so young.”

I was crying now too, it was such a sad story. I started to understand more why she cared about me so much, why we had a connection. I may have been lying about the circumstances of how I lost my family members...but I understood loss. I understood sadness and emptiness.

“Anyway Kimmy, I could never bring myself to clean out her room. I thought you might like some of her things, anything else we can pack up.”

I started to feel a little awkward and she could sense it.

“Kimmy, I know you must be thinking you just moved in with a crazy lady...I'm not trying to replace her with you or anything, we're just friends, and roommates now too...” she smiled, “I think she would want someone else to enjoy her things. You two would have been friends if you ever met. She was a girly-girl like you, we loved each other and got along great but she was much more your type. If it's too weird...the other room is more plain and you can have that if you want.”

I shook my head, “Thank you, Jessica. It's a nice room, and I wouldn't want a plain one. And I don't think you're crazy, which is good, one crazy girl is enough for one house.”

I laughed hysterically at myself, she just shook her head. “Kimmy, sometimes I think you're more crazy than you let on.”

*

Chapter 11: My Name Is Kimmy

Kimmy seemed to truly flourish once she moved in with me. She seemed to love her new room, and all the new things that came with it. She was very respectful and kind with Julie's things. She asked about every item, about what it meant to her. Some things she kept, some things she packed away. She was very careful through the whole process. She never rummaged around like she was at a garage sale. She listened to me tell her endless stories about my daughter and my husband.

By the time we were done, it wasn't Julie's room anymore. It belonged to Kimmy, but she kept things around to remind me of Julie, or just because she liked them. By the end she said she felt like she knew Julie too and sort of missed her even though she had never met her. It was better therapy for me than any grief counselor I had ever seen, and I think it helped Kimmy too. We were closer than ever now. I had let her into my life and shown her everything about me. I got the feeling that there was still a lot about Kimmy I didn't know, a lot of secrets she kept, but it wasn't my right to pry. I still thought about it though, almost every day. I wanted to know her, it was becoming an obsession, though I hid it from her.

Our lives weren't perfect. Kimmy had a lot of issues. She couldn't sleep of course. I would find her up all night, watching TV. Her favorite show seemed to be “Aqua Teen Hunger Force.” She said she loved it when the meatball put one over on the mean milkshake that always bullied him. I had no idea what that meant. Cartoons were not my thing, but they seemed to be all she liked to watch. She was obsessed with childish things in general, which I already knew of course, but it was strange to see how pervasive a part of her personality it was. All she would watch all night were cartoons, even though they were full of adult humor and violence, something about the animated format kept her interest even though similar live action shows would bore her to tears.

It was almost like it was partly a subconscious desire not to do adult things. That feeling nagged at me in the back of my head.

One time I encouraged her to go to sleep. Or to go to her room and read or something and at least try. She became so angry I thought she might explode. Virtually nothing else I could do would make her even the least bit unpleasant, but even gently asking her to go to her room enraged her.

“Jessica!” she screamed in near hysterics, “I'll go to my room when I want, and leave it when I want. I'll try and sleep when I want or stay up all day and night. I'LL SLEEP OUTSIDE IN A SLEEPING BAG IF I WANT! If you don't LIKE it, you can find a NEW ROOMATE! YOU AREN'T MY MOMMY AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME STAY UP THERE ALL NIGHT!!
I WON'T I WON'T I WON'T!”

She stopped mid-tantrum, and started to look around at things that weren't there as she so often did. She covered her mouth as if she regretted what she said. I figured she realized she was overreacting.

I apologized as best I could, and never touched the subject again. The next day I decided to make it up to her and take her to go get a dog like we had talked about before. We went to the local SPCA to find one to adopt. We both felt like that was a better idea than a pet store. She wanted to adopt a puppy who needed a good home, she was always such a softie. We went inside and she looked at the cages in horror and tightly gripped my hand. I had warned her it might be tough on her, but the idea of taking something OUT of a cage was apparently appealing to her.

We had very different ideas of what to look for in a dog. I liked big ones, and pointed out several that looked a lot like Rex. She greeted them warmly but there was one that caught her eye and it was love at first sight.

It was a tiny, young chihuahua just nearly out of puppyhood named Kiki. Despite her small size she seemed almost vicious around the other dogs. None of them intimidated Kiki, in fact it was as if Kiki didn't even realize how small she was. She thought she was the big dog and everyone else should be scared of her. Around Kimmy, though, she was as gentle as a kitten. They were made for each other. Kimmy was as happy as could be and the incident from the night before seemed gone from her mind.

There were other problems aside from her lack of sleep. She just wasn't used to being a roommate. Despite her protests to the contrary, she did sometimes seem to expect me to be her mommy. She didn't want to clean up after herself, or cook, or do laundry, or go shopping.

When I confronted her about this she looked truly apologetic, “Ahh, Jessica. I'm sorry. You're right, I do need to help out. You work all day and I just sit around the house. You shouldn't have to do any of that. It's just, oh, I don't know how to do any of that stuff...”

I was flabbergasted. I knew she had grown up a boy and probably got away with not having to do much to help around the house but for someone who eventually came out as wanting to be such a stereotypical over the top traditional girly-girl you would think she would have WANTED to learn at some point. I looked at her, at that perfect pretty face and the immaculate pink dress she wore, at her incredibly smooth hands. She looked like she had never done any real work in her life. She must have had one happy, spoiled life before that horrible man got a hold on her.

She could tell what I was thinking and nodded solemnly, “Oh yes, Jessica, my mother and my sisters doted on me constantly. They even dressed me and did my hair for me every morning. They just wanted me to be happy after I was stuck being a miserable boy for so long. They never expected me to busy myself that way. They never wanted me to experience anything but my happy little dream life. I guess I went too far.”

I taught her how to take care of the house, some of it was tough on her because she was so ridiculously weak, but she did her best and picked everything up enthusiastically. It was only a few weeks before she was better at cooking than I was.

Once I gave her a shopping list to send her to the store for me, “Here Kimmy, you can take my car...”

“Err, Jessica...I uhh...I think my license is expired?”

I groaned. “How long has it been...”

She looked nervous, “Uhh, I guess...since I first became a girl...I haven't driven since.”

“Wow, three whole years. Why wouldn't you want to drive? You really do love being a kid, huh?”

“Three..three years?” she squeaked and her face displayed severe distress. She ran upstairs to her room, slammed her door shut, and locked it behind her. I could hear frantic crying even from downstairs. I was shocked, she had been in that bubble of happy childhood so long she had completely lost track of the time.

*

Three years. No. It couldn't be that long. I searched my memory. Holes, lots of them. How many nights in the crib? Too many, I lost count, just like I had lost count of the hours every night in the crib. So much pain, so much horror, so much anxiety. Punishment, training, beating, rape. All that pain, I couldn't recall it all. Too much to handle, too much for one little girl to take. The same every day, humiliation and pain and the crib, over and over, why should time make sense? No thoughts and plans or choices of my own to face every morning, just get up and see what they have in store for me. Obey them and go to bed locked in the crib with at least the memory of an ice cream or some other lesser treat. Or fight it and get locked in with a stinging red bottom instead. That was the only choice I got to make.

I tried to remember three Christmas mornings. Did I get gifts? I remembered...a pretty new dress, maybe some dolls. The holidays ran together in my mind, if you had told me it was five years it would have made just as much sense.

Three years of ballet? I liked ballet class so much, I remembered everything I learned. I could remember more and more advanced classes, but I was a quick student, right? I didn't know anymore.

I was old enough to drink now. My twenty-first birthday had come and gone. Did they even celebrate my birthdays at all? Would I have known if it was my birthday? I remembered cakes. Ice cream cakes! So so so soooooo good! Who could forget that? Always one candle though, it didn't matter how old I was, I would always be just a little girl.

I was crying harder now. I remembered how good those cakes were, how the brainwashing made ice cream make me feel so amazing, so high. It was probably better than going out and getting drunk, probably tasted better too. I guess I missed that, how simple and easy it was to just do what they say, earn my treat, and feel good and not have to think. They used it to control me, to make me love them, to stop thinking like an adult or even a person and just please my masters for a treat.

I looked down at Kiki. Lounging in my lap which was her favorite place in the whole world. I gave her a dog biscuit which she happily consumed. “Oh yeah, fine for YOU Kiki, you're a dog.” Kiki dozed off without a care in the world.

I heard a soft knock on the door. “Kimmy, are you okay?”

I replied, “I'm okay Jessica. I'm okay. It's not your fault.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Let me in, Kimmy.”

I breathed deeply, trying to get my emotions and thoughts under control again. “I just need to be alone for a little while Jessica. I'll explain everything later, okay?”

“Okay Kimmy, I understand, I'm going to go do the shopping, don't worry about that, I'll be back soon.”

I looked over at the nightstand next to my bed. I saw my picture of Marlena. I put it there to remind me of her and keep me from forgetting I would see her again soon. I picked it up and tossed it against the wall, shattering the glass frame. I hate you. You could have saved me. Three years. I hate you.

The monster in the red dress was sitting by the wall, playing with shards of broken glass.

*

When I came home she was sitting at the kitchen table, her little chihuahua snoring in her lap as usual. She was looking at a piece of plastic she held in her hands, staring at it. The expired driver's license she had dug out from somewhere. She stood up and handed it to me, and started to pace around the kitchen in a huff. Not her license, Timothy's license.

“I have to get my name changed first Jessica. I'm sorry I won't be able to help with the shopping yet or drive myself to ballet. I want it changed first. We never bothered to have it done officially. That boy isn't me, and if you pulled me over for speeding you wouldn't believe me for a second if I said it was.”

She was right. I looked at the photo again, it was a different person. I had never met him. I think it was more than appearance that had changed over the years.

“Jessica, I...I think it's time for me to grow up. I can't sit around the house all day doing nothing. I have to think about finishing high school and going to college, and finding a career. I love being a little girl, and I'll never give up some things no matter how silly it makes me look...but I want to be a woman. I've spent too much time as a child.”

She stopped pacing and looked self consciously down at her body. Great hair, pretty face, smooth flawless skin, skinny and fit...

Kimmy stamped her foot in frustration, and I knew what she was thinking. Entirely flat chest, no curves. A little girl's body. How could she grow up, when everyone would always see her that way?

“Well...I don't really know about any of that Kimmy. I can understand how you feel though, I don't want to be patronizing but...most little girls feel that way at some point. You will have to see a doctor, for more surgery or hormones or something, I don't know. I'll always be your friend and whatever you choose to do I'll support you.”

I had a lawyer friend help with the paperwork for the legal name and gender change, he knew about Kimmy's sad story and took care of it for free. I filled out the initial paperwork, to make sure there were no mistakes and everything would go smoothly, but I'm glad I showed it to her before I did anything with it or a major mistake might have been made.

“Uhhh, Jessica....”

“Yes?”

“Well...my name isn't Kimberly. K-I-M-M-Y. Kimmy.” she patiently explained.

“Oh...uh, sorry. Mostly girls named Kimberly are called Kimmy as a nickname...”

“My name is Kimmy.” she repeated. “Just Kimmy.”

I guess it made sense she would prefer the diminutive version, her whole personality was so wrapped up in her extreme girlishness and childlike nature. Most Kimberlys I knew hated to be called Kimmy by anyone but their parents or really close friends, or anyone at all. This Kimmy took it the exact opposite direction.

The official change went through without a problem. She got her new license, it featured the cutest picture, she had an amazing smile. Kimmy started to become more independent, but she didn't start going to school or talking to a doctor about her body yet. John's trial was rapidly approaching and she didn't think she could emotionally handle that much going on at once.

She was probably right to wait, the trial was pretty tough on her. When it was finally over I thought her life could finally return to normalcy and she could just go on without having to dredge up the past again and again.

It wasn't to be, there was still one final challenge for her.

I thought getting to see her sister again would be the one thing she could just enjoy after all she had been through. Nearly every time I visited her in the hospital the fist thing she said was, “Please Jessica, may I see my sister yet?”

I was in for a shock, under the surface Kimmy was building a resentment of Marlena I could not have foreseen, in fact I learned a lot about the person behind that pretty, innocent face that day. Once I knew about what really happened, the nightmare she had lived through would horrify and disturb me for the rest of my life.

I'm not sure why I decided to spy on their meeting, maybe deep down I already had an inkling of the truth. A lot of things about what happened the night her stepmother Kathy and sister Marie died never quite added up, and the terrible look in her eyes as they took John away in chains...but how could anyone have known?

*
Chapter 12: Reunion

I couldn't face her, the rage burned deeply within me. The monster in red was with me, whispering to me.

“Kimmy. Pretend to be nice. Pretend you still love her. Wait, we can't do it yet, but we will. I'll find a way. They will never know. Was I ever wrong about that? Wait.”

I considered the monster's advice while I finished dressing. I wore a simple black skirt and a white blouse, with plain black shoes. I wore my hair straight. I didn't want to be the little girl she expected, no frilly pink petticoats and Mary Janes for her. No braids or sausage curls. I heard a knock on the door. I ignored it.

“Kimmy! It's Marlena! They can't keep us apart anymore! Can I come in?”

I ignored her. The door opened anyway. I could smell her, for a brief moment my anger cooled. I remembered her smell. I remembered the few treasured nights I had been allowed out of my crib to snuggle with her and sleep in her bed. The rage redoubled, too few nights out of the crib.

She rushed over and picked me up and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe, my arms pinned to my chest.

“Oh Kimmy! I've missed you so much! You look so pretty in that outfit! You're really growing up!”

“Put me down.” I said in an emotionless monotone.

The monster was frantic. “YOU HAVE TO PRETEND, YOU HAVE TO PRETEND!”

“NO!” I shouted.

The monster backed away, nodding. “It's okay, Kimmy, I'll find another way.”

I sat down in front of my mirror, I could see Marlena behind me. She looked confused.

Addressing the image in the mirror, “I hate you, Marlena. Go away, NOW!”

“What...Kimmy...it's me...your favorite sister...” she replied hesitantly.

“We aren't sisters, we never were.”

I turned around and picked up Kiki and set her down in my lap, I scratched her ears and rubbed her tummy, much to her delight.

I held the dog up, dressed for the special occasion in a pink doggy sweater with a bow on her head “This is Kiki.”

“...she is very cute Kimmy but...”

I interrupted in a burst of anger, “SHUT UP!”

I calmed myself, outwardly, and continued in the same monotone I had started with.

“Kiki is a lapdog, a pet. That's what I was to you. You treated me like a dog. Sure, you didn't go all out Micheal Vick like the rest of them...but that's hardly an endorsement. When I wasn't behaving exactly as you wanted, you found a way to make me behave. You made me dress how you wanted, do my hair like you wanted, act and talk how you wanted. You stole my manhood as much as the rest of them, just because you didn't beat me to do it doesn't make it okay. You used the ice cream just as much as they did.”

I paused and gave Kiki a treat. I smiled lovingly at my pet. “Look at her, she loves me so much. I train her, teach her tricks. She obeys my every command. Don't get me wrong, we're good friends, but we both know who's in charge. Who the master is.”

I turned back to the mirror and addressed the image behind me. “You wanted to be my master just like the rest of them, do you remember the zoo? Do you remember how much I cried and begged not to go? How much I cried and begged not to be trotted around and humiliated? How much I begged on the way home to be allowed to go back to my old life?”

It was rhetorical, but she started to answer anyway, again I cut her off, “SHUT UP!”

“You were nice to me, when I behaved how you wanted. You tried to pretend later that you were sorry for your part in all this, but I know you aren't really. You killed your brother. Just because you loved your new sister and didn't want to see her beaten doesn't make up for it. Did you know about the rape? I don't think you did, not that you would have done anything to stop it, you had three years to stop everything else they were doing and you didn't...”

Marlena burned with rage now. I had never seen her like this before in her life. She grabbed me from behind and slammed me down onto my desk. “I never knew about the rape. If I knew I would have stopped it. When they told me about the rape and the murders...and they told me what you were saying...I lied for you. DON'T EVER TELL ME I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU!”

She growled, “I know what you did Kimmy. I lied for you and protected you anyway. You would be the one in jail if it wasn't for me.”

I could barely breathe, I felt like I was about to pass out. The monster was screaming in the corner.

Marlena went on, “I killed my brother? I had no choice, they were going to do it anyway. YOU KILLED MY SISTER AND MOTHER YOU LITTLE MONSTER!”

She continued holding me down, I wasn't crying, even through the pain. “I had to do it, you know I had to. No other way out, no other way out.”

She kept me pinned, “What I don't understand is how, Kimmy. Cindy said it was impossible for you to do something like that, the conditioning shouldn't have even let you conceive of it...”

I giggled, she held me down harder on the desk. I giggled some more. “I don't know exactly, but I think it's probably because I went totally insane. You wouldn't believe the things I see, the things I hear. It got worse and worse the more they kept me in that crib. Do you remember how I used to talk to my dolly all the time? You probably thought I did it to please you, to make myself look more girly like you wanted. But no, it was because she talked back, Marlena. She was the nicest friend I had. After they sent you away and Marie killed my dolly...I made a new friend. She wasn't as nice and forgiving as you and Dolly. We both agreed about what had to be done, and she taught me how to do it. I didn't think of it myself. All the brainwashing is probably still up there somewhere, but crazy people don't need to follow rules.”

She spoke in fear and horror, “Kimmy...are you still...friends with her?”

I giggled some more, “Oh yes, you wouldn't believe what she has to say about YOU...”

More fear, but she still held me down.

“Oh, don't worry Marlena. I won't listen to her this time, and she can't make me. At least I don't think she can.” I giggled some more and went on.

“If there was any other way I wouldn't have done it to them either, no matter what they did. I'm done with you though. I don't need a sister who doesn't love me. You probably lied to the police just to save your own skin, I wouldn't be the only one locked up once they knew the truth of what you helped them do to me. You would never do anything nice for me that didn't serve your own purposes.”

*

I sat, frozen in horror as I watched the scene unfold via the small hidden camera and microphone. Paralyzed. I should have stopped it from the start. Kimmy didn't look at all like she was happy to see her sister. Now I knew things, things I never should have known. Things I didn't want to know. Too late.

I should have stopped it when her sister slammed her into the desk, but I still couldn’t move. Now I knew it all. There was no going back.

Frozen. I was trained for war, for law enforcement. You can't ever freeze, not when someone you're supposed to be protecting is in trouble. The last time someone I was so close to was hurt...I was too far away to help. There was nothing I could do when they died, not this time. Kimmy was still being held down. I need to stop it, but what next?

I ran out into the hall and barged in to Kimmy's room. Marlena turned around in shock, I grabbed her and slammed her to the floor and held her there.

“Don't you dare hurt my friend.” I told her angrily.

“Jessica, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Kimmy screamed. Her face had lost the twisted evil it had displayed during her giggling diatribe of insanity, it was back to the perfect angel I knew. Which face is the real one? Both, neither? Either way, she was acting now just like she always had around me, so many lies she had to protect. She had protected them so well.

“I'm sorry Kimmy, I was spying on you. I heard everything.”

Kimmy covered her ears, like she could prevent hearing what I had already said...or as if someone else in the room was screaming in rage in a voice only Kimmy could hear.

I tried to reassure her that her terrible secret was safe.

“Kimmy, calm down, I won't tell. I won't tell. I'm a soldier, Kimmy, I know sometimes you have to do...things...you don't want to do. Things you regret. Things that may haunt you forever. I don't understand everything I heard...but I don't think you're a monster.”

I looked down at Marlena with contempt, “If this sick freak can keep the secret so can I.”

Kimmy looked as reassured as she could be in a situation like this. “Jessica, let her up.”

I did so. Kimmy turned to Marlena and looked her right in the eyes for the first time since she had come in. “You don't love me no matter what you say, and I most certainly do NOT love you, go away and never come back.”

Marlena rubbed herself in pain and cried softly. “Okay Kimmy, I probably deserve all of this. You're right, I could have stopped it. I could have gone to the police.. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I was afraid they would punish me too. I was selfish. I didn't have the courage. I tried to convince Mother and Marie and John to stop abusing you, they sent me away to that school because I wouldn't stop. I do love you, that's why I lied to the police to protect you. I know that looks self serving.”

Marlena looked down at Kimmy tenderly, “I knew I would have to do something else to prove myself to you. I brought something for you.”

She reached into her knapsack and revealed a wrapped gift.

Kimmy looked enraged. “You can't buy back my love. Not after what you did. I hate you, I don't want your gift, go away NOW!” Kimmy stamped her foot in petulant frustration, her patience was at an end.

Marlena didn't move, she just went on in the same tender, soothing voice.

“I didn't buy it, Kimmy. I know there is nothing I could buy to make up for what I did to you. It took me months to get this, Kimmy. Whenever I could get away from school I would borrow a car and drive off to look. I had no idea where to look exactly, or if there was even anything to find, but I knew the general route you must have taken. Marie called me to gloat about what she did to you. I walked hundreds of miles all together. My feet bled, Kimmy. The police would chase me away, over and over, they thought I was mad.”

Kimmy's entire manner had changed as Marlena finished. Her eyes were wide with dawning realization, she leapt for the package and snatched it from her sister's grasp. She tore it open in a frenzy.

A sound emerged from her, a loud and high pitched whine. It was half pleasure and half pain and longing.

“Are you okay, Kimmy?” I asked.

I received no answer. Kimmy dropped to her knees and continued the high pitched emotional moans. She was unable to put any of her thoughts or feelings into speech. She rocked back and forth with the gift in her arms. She had been trying so hard to act like an adult, wearing less childish clothes, volunteering at the SPCA, looking at options for school...but now she looked like a baby with a a beloved toy, unable to express her happiness as an adult would.

I turned to Marlena, “What is it, a doll?”

Marlena ignored me too and sat down next to Kimmy and stroked her hair gently. “When I found her she was in very bad shape. She took too much abuse she never deserved. She was broken and stained. I put her back together and washed away the damage the rough treatment left on her. Fixing her wasn't easy, it wasn't quick. She will never be exactly the same as she was, not after what she went through, but she is back with the people she loves, and no one will ever hurt her again.”

In between moans Kimmy whispered, “Everyone. Out. Now. You. Too. Ki. Ki. Out.”

She took a deep breath and suddenly screamed at top volume and pitch, “NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

I was half deaf and my ears were ringing. Marlena pulled me out of the room. Kimmy slammed shut the door and locked it.

From inside the door, “AND DON'T SPY ON ME JESSICA, NOW OR EVER AGAIN!”

Kiki sat dejectedly by the door, waiting for her mistress to let her back in to sit on her warm, comfy lap.

I turned to Marlena with a questioning look.

She shrugged. “It's her favorite dolly. She really likes it.”

*

I laid down on the bed in the fetal position, and stayed that way for a long time. I hugged my dolly tightly to my chest as hard as I could. I felt so happy and warm. My anxiety and fear faded. I felt light and free. After a while I sat up in bed, with the doll in my lap. I knew what I was about to do was a sign of my illness, feeding my delusions. I didn't care.

“I missed you so much, Dolly. I'm so sorry I let Marie take you from me.”

I waited, she didn't always talk back. Maybe my delusions had changed and moved on and left Dolly behind, maybe only the monster in red would be my friend now...

“It's okay Kimmy. She was bigger and stronger than you, there was nothing you could have done. Besides, Marlena found me and nursed me back to health. I'm all better now and no one will ever make us be apart again.”

I smiled, “Oh, it's so good to hear your voice again. We have so much to catch up on. Look at this, his name is Rex! He helped me keep the nightmares away just like you.”

I hugged the stuffed dog in one arm and the dolly in the other. “But...Dolly, I did bad things. Things I don't think you would like.”

The monster joined us on the bed.

The dolly spoke, “Oh, I don't like HER Kimmy...I knew what she wanted you to do. I kept her far away.”

The monster looked more sad than usual, she wiped at her eyes as if the permanent bloody tears that always flowed there might go away.

I looked my dolly right in the eyes, “Dolly, she is my friend. I know you don't like what she had me do but she cares about me just as much as you. If it wasn't for her I would still be locked in that crib, and I bet we never would have been together again. Even if Marlena still decided to go looking for you...Marie would have found another way to separate us. She can't hurt me anymore, Dolly. No one can.”

The doll considered this “Well...maybe we can all be friends. Does she like tea parties too?”

The monster smiled for the first time I could recall. It wasn't really a pretty sight, but I could tell she was happy.

I stripped off my clothes and went to my closet. I found my most frilly yellow dress and the biggest petticoat, white tights and Mary Janes. I sat at the mirror and braided my hair, just the way Marlena liked it. I stood up and studied myself in the mirror, in all my extreme girly perfection. I made myself stop and think. Am I doing this because I want to or because Marlena manipulated me into doing it?

I looked over at the table where I had set up my tea party set, the first time I had touched it since Marlena and I had been separated. Rex had one chair, the dolly another, and even the monster had taken her seat and was eagerly waiting for me. Well, she's the one who hated Marlena the most, if she's okay with it...

I went downstairs. Jessica and Marlena were sitting at the kitchen table with worried looks, wondering what I had been doing alone up there for so long. Marlena's eyes brightened when she saw what I was wearing, even Jessica didn't roll her eyes at my frilly attire when she saw how happy I was.

Marlena smiled, “You didn't have to do this for me, Kimmy. I don't care how you dress anymore, you can be who you want and I'll support you.”

I hugged her, she hugged me back and we cried in happiness. This was the hug she was dying for when she first came in, and I had rejected her. “I didn't do it for you, Marlena. I did it for me, but I'm glad you like it. I'm sorry for saying those terrible things about you.”

“I understand, you don't have to apologize.” Marlena kissed me on the cheek and tugged at one of my braids playfully. “So, Miss Kimmy, what may I ask are you all dressed up for?”

I grinned my cutest grin and exclaimed with glee. “TEA PARTY!”

*

What a scene, there I was sitting at a table with a teenage girl, a little girl with a chihuahua in her lap (getting hair all over her pretty dress), a stuffed dog, a doll, and of course the one invisible guest I was assured was there. I was sipping imaginary tea and sharing pleasant small talk. This girly-girl stuff had never been my thing, but Kimmy and Marlena made it clear this was a private tradition for sisters only, how could I turn down an invitation with those implications? I guess we were like sisters already, bonded together by the shared responsibility to keep Kimmy's secret.

That night, Kimmy went to bed earlier than usual, snuggling with her dolly and Rex. I went upstairs and tucked her in. I hadn't done that before, she didn't want a mommy, but I could tell she was feeling in a bit more of a childish mood than usual. She didn't seem to mind. I guess she considered me an older sister now more than a friend anyway.

It was bittersweet, seeing her so happy just then. The last time I had tucked in a happy little girl it had been Julie, in this same bed. Kimmy could see I was sad, she held my hand.

“Jessica, would you read me a story?”

“Sure Kimmy, what would you like to hear?”

She shrugged, “There's one book over there I never read before...though I glanced at some of the pictures. It looks like it got a lot of use...”

Rumpelstiltskin, Julie's favorite story. I didn't believe Kimmy had never read it. After we saw “Tangled” she had subjected me to a lecture on the differences between the movie and the traditional Rapunzel fairy tale in great detail. An extensive collection of fairy tale books had come with her things from her old house. More likely, when we had moved Kimmy in she had seen Julie's copy of Rumpelstiltskin and how worn it was, suggesting it was a favorite. She knew I probably enjoyed it too. She was right.

I settled down next to her on the bed so we could both see the pictures and read. By the end Kimmy's eyes were closed, and there was a tranquil smile on her face. Was she asleep? No, no matter how relaxed she still had that insomnia. Her eyes popped open.

“It's a lovely story, Jessica. I wish I could spin gold...that would be so very useful...”

I nodded and stroked her hair. “Kimmy, you really didn't want to be a girl?”

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “It had never occurred to me. Maybe it would have later in my life, maybe not. But once they made me there was no choice but to hate it. And they made hating it easy.”

“But you like it now?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Why did they do it, Kimmy?”

She shook her head in frustration, “I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know. I think about it all the time. What was it that made them into monsters? I remember things I forgot all the time now Jessica...maybe I'll remember someday...maybe I did something to deserve it.”

“There is nothing you could have done to deserve what they did Kimmy. I'm not upsetting you by asking about this, am I?”

She gripped my arm tightly, “No Jessica, you couldn't believe how much I've wanted to talk to someone about it, to make sense of it. All that time in the hospital with people trying to help me and I couldn't say a word...I'm glad you asked.”

We talked long into the night. She told me everything, the real story of what they had done to her instead of the sanitized version in which her mother and sisters were saints and only the evil John had hurt her. I knew some of it from the story he told in court, but that barely scratched the surface of everything they did to her. I finally knew what it was I was seeing in the eyes of the blood drenched little girl I found in that closet. I cried more than she did when I heard it all. For once she fell asleep before me, exhausted by her emotional day. A heavy weight had been lifted from Kimmy's chest, to finally have someone besides her delusions to confide in. But a new weight had been put on mine, the realization that Cindy was still out there somewhere, the one villain that escaped Kimmy's terrible vengeance and had disappeared without a trace.

*
Chapter 13: Growing Up

Going back to school was like a dream come true. I felt like my life was finally back on track. Marlena and I attended a local private school without having to pay tuition. Jessica was a friend of the principal and she had followed my story in the news, she wanted to help. Marlena was a senior now, she had caught up with where I was before I dropped out. It was nice having a friend already when starting at a new school.

I adored the uniform. Marie would have loved it. I wore a pleated plaid skirt, white blouse, and a sweater vest. I also wore tights, which were optional. I loved the way they felt and how cute and feminine they made me look. Marlena did my hair in sausage curls again on our first day.

“Look Kimmy, you can go back to braids tomorrow, you want to make the best possible impression on your first day. You are always at your prettiest in curls. The boys are going to lose their minds when they see you.”

It was true, but boys were a complicated subject for me. They were all scared of me once it became common knowledge that I used to be a boy myself, that I had been in a mental institution, and that I had been accused of being a murderer as well. It was double edged, at least they rarely bullied me or made fun of me, they were too afraid of what I might do. The first few weeks went great.

It wasn't too long until I had an incident though. I was alone in the hallway and two boys grabbed me and dragged me into the boy's bathroom. They cornered me in a stall and threatened to rape me, it wasn't a good plan. I didn't get scared as easily as I used to anymore.

“Open up, fag.” he told me.

“Don't you know I'm a psycho? You really want to put that in my mouth?”

“You'll behave, you little freak, and I'll give you a nice facial as a reward. You know this is what you want you little perv.”

“I know every cop in this town, they protect me like I'm their little sister, you won't get away with it. Walk away and I won't say anything this once.”

My attackers argued with each other, trying to decide if they should really go through with their plan. While they were distracted two things happened simultaneously. Another much bigger boy (the biggest I had ever seen) ripped the stall door open and started to drag my attackers away from me at the same time as I unleashed the pepper spray I had been hiding. It hit all three of them. The giant boy lost his grip on them and the two assholes ran.

I screamed after them with shrill rage, “No one messes with ME anymore! NO ONE. How'd you like THAT facial!? Run, you bitches!”

The monster appeared at my side jumping up and down in gleeful ecstasy. I gave her a high five. “You were awesome, Kimmy. Much less messy than the knife. You should try the taser if they ever come back! That big boy needs your help though, I'll leave you alone.”

She vanished.

The other boy struggled to make his way to the sink and tried to clean the painful pepper spray off his face. “Oh my God, it burns! Ahhhh! You aren't even allowed to have weapons, it's a fucking school!”

“Oh, the principal made an exception for me. I don't feel safe without it and I can't concentrate in class. I get really nervous and scared sometimes. My best friend is a cop, she taught me how to defend myself safely and responsibly.”

He laughed as he tried to clean the painful pepper spray off his face, “Yes, I can see that.”

“Didn't see you coming, sorry.”

I tried to help him clean off, very carefully so I could avoid getting any of it on myself. “Thanks for trying to save me, you're such a hero.”

I smiled at him prettily, hoping my adoration would ease his pain a bit. “Do you know who I am?”

“Crazy Kimmy, everyone knows who you are.”

My smile faded, I didn't know I had a nickname. He quickly apologized.

“It just slipped out, sorry. You were just high-fiving thin air. I'm Tim.”

I giggled.

“What?” he asked.

“That uhh, used to be my name too.”

“Oh. You're weird.”

“I know. Will you go out with me?”

He looked startled.

“Sorry for being so aggressive about it, boys are scared to ask me out so I have to ask them. It's okay if you don't want to, it's hard for me to find boys who want to go out with me, no matter how much they like to look at me. It makes them insecure to think of going out with someone who used to be a boy.”

His cheeks turned red and he got flustered, adorable on such a big strong guy “It's not that at all, it's just...I've had a crush on you since I first saw you in the news. I read every story about you. You were so beautiful, but so sad, you fascinated me. I never imagined I would ever meet you, but then you showed up here in my school. I didn't think you knew I even existed.”

I laughed. “I didn't. Sorry, now I do. You tried to protect me, you can't know how much it means for me to meet good people who care about me and want to protect me.”

He smiled at me. “I'm good at protecting people, I'm an offensive linemen on the football team. Have you been to any of the games yet? I haven't seen you there.”

“Oh, I'm not really into sports, I'm kind of a girly-girl.”

He looked disappointed. I didn't want to offend him. “I guess I could start to go to them, I'd love to watch you play.”

I went to him and stood on my very tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed furiously again.

I felt light headed and happy as could be, but started to notice something was wrong. “Uh-oh, that was a mistake.”

“Not it wasn't, Kimmy, I can't wait to go out with you.”

“No, I mean I got pepper spray on my lips.” I started to cry. “Oh, it was just a little but I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to pain. I gotta go...”

I ran out of the bathroom to go to the nurse's office leaving Tim behind me, he was still in severe pain but was suppressing happy laughter. I passed Marlena on the way. She saw I was crying and in a bit of a panic and ran after me.

“Is something wrong, Kimmy? DID SOMEONE HURT YOU?!”

I just kept running to the nurse's office. The nurse gave me a glass of milk. It helped a little. I told her what happened, she got the principal who called the police. Jessica responded to the call of course, racing to the school with siren blaring. I made sure they all knew Tim had nothing to do with it and that he was a hero.

Marlena recognized Tim from my gushing description. Mega tall and muscular, blonde hair and blue eyes, a total dream.

“You should have seen him, he picked them up like rag dolls. He was ready to pound them in to dust to rescue me. I would have loved to see that.”

Behind them the monster nodded and pantomimed what she thought he would have done to them. I smiled back.

Jessica and Marlena didn't look quite as happy. They knew when I started to look off at nothing I wasn't seeing anything I should be smiling at. They sent the nurse out of the room and sat on each side of me, each holding one of my hands tightly.

Jessica began, “Kimmy. You're enjoying this a little too much, don't you think?”

I squirmed uncomfortably. The monster rolled her eyes at them.

Marlena took over, “Don't get us wrong, Kimmy. You have to defend yourself and people like Tim should defend you too. You both did the right thing, but Kimmy...you can't let that...friend...of yours make you like to hurt people. If you go too far, we will be responsible for it, we won't lie for you if you go too far again. You can't solve all your problems that way.”

Jessica took over, “If you start to like hurting people, you will end up just like them. You can't go down that path. You will end up hating yourself.”

We all knew which 'them' she was referring to. “I understand. Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

They hugged me. I went on gushing about Tim.

I went to his next game with Marlena and Jessica and to every one after that. It had been a long time since I had watched any football. Sometimes I would sit on Daddy's lap while he watched a game but I never paid any attention to it. I had a doll or some other toy to focus on.

Now I watched intently. Tim was good, he was really good. I started recording his games and sending some of the video to colleges and soon they started to send scouts. I would cheer for him and the rest of the team as loud as I could and trash talk the other team. The monster was particularly adept at thinking up trash talk for me to yell. My shrill, super high pitched screaming carried over the rest of the noise easily. Marlena started to bring ear plugs, but she didn't discourage me from yelling. I guess they figured it was a healthy way for me to let out some of the violent, aggressive feelings that scared them so much.

After the second game I attended the cheerleaders asked me to join up because of how well my voice carried and they knew a girl I took ballet classes with who told them how talented and graceful I am. I was flattered but I had to decline. “Oh, I can't cheerlead, I'm sorry. I'm too weak to do what you do, any pyramid with me at the base would collapse in a heap. Besides, if I'm busy cheerleading I won't be able to focus on the game!”

They weren't offended but they insisted I become an unofficial member of their squad, they gave me a uniform and insisted I wear it to every game. Sometimes I would go down on the field and join them for a little while if the crowd really needed to be juiced up. They let me be on top of the pyramid so I wouldn't have to worry about dropping anyone. My balance was perfect.

One time after a game I heard some of the opposing players talking about me.

“What was with that little girl talking shit all game, someone needs to stop her. Who lets their daughter talk like that?”

“She yelled that she has Barbie dolls that hit harder than me and that my mother doesn't love me....Christ, it's just a game.”

“She spent the whole game cheering for an offensive lineman, who does that?”

“You don't know about her? It's 'Crazy Kimmy.' She's like their mascot or something now. She used to be a boy. Her family was murdered and she went insane.”

“No way.”

“Look it up, it was all over the news.”

“She better be careful or someone is gonna get pissed and try to shut her up the hard way.”

“Some guy tried a few weeks ago after she said something nasty about his son, he ran up to her and started screaming, trying to intimidate her. She waved a fucking taser at him until he backed down.”

“Isn't that illegal?”

“She's untouchable with the local cops, she went around to all their houses and personally thanked them for rescuing her from the guy who killed her family, even the ones who had nothing to do with it.”

“So wait, back up, it's really a faggy boy and not a real girl?”

I let out a piercing laugh, they recognized it and groaned. “With the way you guys played it looks like I'm not the only faggy boy around here! Are you sure you want to be football players? Why don't you come and take ballet classes with me instead?”

“Shit, it's her. Just ignore her, let's get out of here before she says something about my mom again.”

Tim and I went steady immediately after our first date. Every weekend he would come over and we would watch football together with Jessica. She was relieved that I had developed a hobby that she and I could enjoy together that wasn't as stereotypically girly as the rest of the stuff I did. Jessica would humor me to keep me company but she was not the Disney princesses and tea parties kind of girl I was.

Sometimes I would sit in Tim's lap while we watched, not often though. It made me feel good and his enjoyment was obvious, but it reminded me too much of the bad old days. I loved to jump around and cheer for great plays too much anyway.

I started to lose interest in studying. I had only wanted to go back to school so I could stop being such a little kid, and I felt like I accomplished that. Marlena wouldn't let me drop out again though, she hounded me daily to keep working at it.

“I want to graduate with my sister” she would tell me, over and over.

The night the team won the state championship, Tim and I finally went all the way together. He knew I wasn't a virgin, but he also knew I had been raped because he had followed the news stories about me so closely. He was very gentle with me, and very loving. He treated me very delicately, he knew how easily I could be hurt and how my experience of pain was magnified. He was a very large man, and I was a small girl, but he made sure I was comfortable and experienced nothing but pleasure. It was a far cry from the painful, humiliating, and abusive sex John had used me for.

My grades weren't great but I didn't let Marlena down. Tim, Marlena, and I all graduated together and were accepted at the state university. Tim had a full athletic scholarship and Marlena had a full academic scholarship. I was the only one who had to pay anything. I was on academic probation from the start too, they probably only accepted me because of my unique background. Luckily John's money was my money now so it wasn't a problem. I rented an apartment for all three of us but Marlena wanted to move out after only a few weeks.

“You guys, you make too much noise! The earplugs don't help, I'm very happy for you both but I need to sleep and I don't need to hear my little sister doing...that...every night.”

She proceeded to tease me. “Can't you save your screaming for football?”

I rented her another apartment on the other side of the building. I didn't want her to be far away. I needed her to tutor me or I wouldn't make it through even my remedial classes. Tim was much more book smart than me and could have handled it but he had so much to do with football and his own coursework that I couldn't ask him to do that.

Every chance we got we would visit Jessica. It was lucky the college wasn't too far away. I also kept in touch with her online and called her every day just to say “Hello.” It couldn't be easy for her to go back to having an empty house but at least the circumstances were happier this time.

I went to every one of Tim's games, even the away games. I was burning through money with all the travel but I didn't care. It was clear Tim was cruising towards a professional career and John's cash would last a good long while even if Tim didn't make it.

My voice couldn't carry as far in a large stadium but I still shouted as loud as I could. I arrived early to every game and sat in the front row in a cheerleader outfit with my face painted in the school colors, taunting the opposing players while they warmed up. In a nearly empty stadium, they could hear me.

In his junior year Tim left school and went pro, that same year we were married.

Chapter 14: Vows

He didn't do anything fancy for the proposal, and I'm glad he didn't. I do love the girly romantic stuff but there was no way I could answer him without a long, painful talk. That's probably why he did it that way, he knew somehow it had to be private.

“Kimmy, will you marry me?”

I smiled in ecstasy and threw my arms around him, he lifted me and twirled me around.

“Oh, I'm so happy you asked me!”

He held me tightly to his chest with his massive arms and squeezed me firmly and didn't let go. I squirmed in pleasure. I loved it when he did this to me and he knew it. I never explained it to him this way because I'm not sure how to make anyone but me understand, and even I felt it was a little weird, but this was exactly how I used to love to tightly hug my favorite dolly whenever I really felt hurt. I felt like a little dolly in his embrace, and the feelings of reassurance and love that inspired in me was intoxicating. He held me like I was his most precious and important treasure in the world, like he would be lost without me. Like he would go mad without me.

He put me down on the couch and sat me in his lap. I shifted off his lap to sit beside him, and took his large hand in my own and looked him in the eye steadily.

“I haven't answered you yet.”

He look confused, “Well with that reaction I just assumed...”

“I can't agree to marry you....”

His hand gripped mine too tightly but I went on, for once finding a little endurance for pain.

“...yet, there are things you need to know about me. You are going to be famous, there are things about me that could make your life miserable. They would ruin your career.”

“I don't care, Kimmy. I don't care about anything but you. Hah, you should have seen me play before that first game you came to. I sucked, that's why there were no scouts around before you started making videos. The only reason I even started to live up to my potential was because I was trying to impress you. I know all I need to know.”

“No, you don't.”

He realized how tightly he was gripping my hand and quickly loosened his grip. “My god, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?”

He did, but that wasn't important now. I plowed ahead recklessly. “I didn't want to be a girl. My family made me. Even Marlena helped them, though she still loved me. It wasn't just John that hurt me...it was my stepmother and Marie. They tortured me. I didn't just lose my grip on reality a bit after they were killed, I've been totally insane for a long time. Crazy Kimmy is a good nickname for me.”

The shock and horror in his eyes was not just about what they had done to me, but at what I was really admitting. He followed the trial, he knew John's version of events. It sounded exactly like the story I had just told, but I hadn't mentioned the end.

“I...”

“You murdered them and framed him just like he said.”

I broke down in hysterical tears, he moved instinctively to comfort me, but pulled back afraid of losing control and hurting me again.

“It wasn't your fault Kimmy, you were insane. You weren't responsible.”

I calmed my crying enough to speak “You know the story, Tim. Think about it.”

“You were brainwashed, you couldn't run away...so you had no choice.”

He didn't want to believe, he didn't want to follow it all the way through. Marlena and Jessica didn't either, no one wanted to believe it, maybe they did know and just lied to themselves about it.

“My mind freed itself, the only way it could. After it happened, and I gave in to the madness, I was free of all the brainwashing. All of it.”

He pleaded with me, almost demanding I accept it, “But still, you were crazy, you didn't know what you were doing.”

“I saw and heard things that weren't real all the time. Before, it had only happened a little, mostly only night terrors and hearing my doll comfort me. Once I was freed it was nonstop. I saw a monster who told me to do things, but she couldn't force me. She couldn't hurt me. She just convinced me, she was very reasonable for a hallucination. She didn't have to manipulate me to make me angry enough to go along, my family provided the anger every time they hurt me.”

“No...”

“I've never told anyone this, not Marlena or Jessica, they could never accept it, but you have to know if you want to make this choice. I had complete free will once the brainwashing was gone. I could have walked out the door anytime and run away or gone to the police. I chose to wait instead, until they gave me my chance to make them all pay, and I took it.”

I looked him dead in the eye, “I had fun, I enjoyed it. I watched them bleed as they begged me for their lives. I relished in their pain. I smiled and laughed while I bathed in their blood. I squeezed the blood from my clothes and covered him in it, restraining my giggles of joy at what was waiting for him was the hardest thing I've ever done. And...If he ever walks out of prison, or I ever find Cindy...I'LL DO IT ALL AGAIN! I WILL!”

I leapt to my feet and overturned the heavy wood and glass coffee table in front of the couch, displaying strength way beyond my normal means and shattering the glass. I hyperventilated and started to see red, I jumped up and down and swung my arms wildly in rage. He grabbed me and held me once again in a bear hug. I kicked and screamed and struggled against him. I think I passed out.

When I woke up I was sitting in his lap. Kiki was sitting in mine. My favorite doll was clutched in my arm as well. I was calm. He was asleep, but he was still here. I gently kissed him and he woke.

“Tim, will you marry me?”

“Yes Kimmy, and if you think you have to do those things...I'll help. We're soulmates, I know it. I know you like being a girl now, but even if you were a boy I think we would have found each other someday no matter what and fallen in love. We will always be together in spirit, no matter what happens. I promise.”

*

Kimmy looked so beautiful the day of the wedding. The gown was pure white. It was strapless with a corset back closure. The bodice was intricately laced and had a satin band at the high waist. The skirt was glamorous and full. Her hair was beautifully set in her favorite curly style and she was perched on six inch heels but still managed to walk with perfect balance and grace thanks to her years of ballet. She didn't want to look too small in the wedding pictures next to Tim. They did get some looks sometimes being a couple with such a difference in height.

She looked so grown up now. The hormones had finally given her breasts and curves (that the strapless dress highlighted nicely), and softened her already soft skin. It wasn't just her appearance that made her look more adult, there was something else about her.

Marlena had been crying all day and gushing over her sister. “Ohhhhh.....Kimmy, I can't believe you're getting married.” Crying. “You look so grown up now.” Crying. “I almost feel like....” Crying. “Like...like.”

Exasperated I spoke up, “LIKE WHAT? Kimmy has a busy day, get on with it.”

Marlena glanced over at me in annoyance, but grinned and turned back to her sister and pulled her into a tight hug. I grimaced and hoped she wouldn't make Kimmy cry again so we would have to touch up the makeup for the tenth time.

“...I feel like I'M the little sister now. I don't even have a boyfriend or a job yet...”

Kimmy joined in the crying. I let out a sigh. Thankfully Kimmy composed herself quickly this time.

“We're just sisters. I was your older...sibling... for a while. Then you were mine. Now? Well, we graduated high school the same year. We're just sisters.”

Kimmy went back to primping in the mirror and Marlena stopped her damned crying for once. Marlena hummed the “Bridal Chorus” and Kimmy giggled.

“Thank you again for the dress, Jessica. I can't believe how many alterations they had to do to make it fit right, don't I look pretty?” She giggled.

I almost wanted to smack her. It was the twentieth time she had thanked me for offering her my dress, as if I would ever have any use for it again. All this girly wedding stuff gets on my nerves...but it's Kimmy, have to be nice.

Grin and bear it, it's her special day. “You're welcome, Kimmy. Aside from Julie you're the only girl I would ever have considered worthy of the honor.”

It was going to the thrift store in a month, but she doesn't need to know it. Suddenly Kimmy was crying again, oops, did I say that last part out loud? Kimmy ran over to me as quickly as she could in those too high heals and hugged me, burying her face in my shoulder.

“What Kimmy, what now?”

She whimpered, “It's...passing the dress on to your daughter...”

“Kimmy, it was a long time ago, I'm ok...”

“No, that's not it. I just started thinking about....about...I CAN'T HAVE BABIES!”

Marlena exploded in tears again, soon both girls were crying on my shoulder like I was their mother. Oh God, what can you say to THAT? She already talked about it with Tim, they would adopt, but I guess the hormones were doing funny things to her mind which was already addled a bit by her illness.

“Err...look...science and everything...”

Marlena stopped crying and looked like a light bulb went on. “Oh, they did save some of your...seed...Kimmy. I can find out where, it has to be with the papers we had from Cindy. Some sperm bank in our old town. I guess that doesn't help much...but Jessica is right. Science! I just saw on the news they made baby rats with two fathers. Maybe in a few years, who knows?”

Kimmy didn't look consoled. “I don't have a womb.”

Marlena smiled at her, “If it's ever possible, I'll be a surrogate for you and Tim.”

Kimmy seemed to be recovering now, “You...you will?”

“Of course, Kimmy, I owe you so much. I have so much to make up for.”

They embraced lovingly, makeup losing perfection again.

I roared, finally losing patience with the crying and hugging cycle, “JUST ADOPT, YOU GOT KIKI FROM AN ANIMAL SHELTER AND YOU LOVE HER JUST AS MUCH AS YOU WOULD ANY OTHER DOG. FIX YOUR MAKEUP AND LET'S DO THIS DAMN THING, WE'RE LATE!”

Kimmy composed herself and the wedding went perfectly. It was mostly a very traditional affair. Tim's family was Catholic and they obviously couldn't hold the wedding in the Church. Their dogma simply couldn't accept someone like Kimmy. They had gone as a couple to talk to a priest. Kimmy had begged and cried to be accepted but there was nothing the priest could do.

He told them, “Look, if it were up to me I would do the wedding. I've never seen a couple so obviously in love who care about each other so much. I just can't do it.”

He did come to the ceremony and said a prayer for them that was carefully constructed not to suggest he actually approved of the wedding. That was all he could do, but he blessed the wedding in private. What the Pope didn't know wouldn't hurt him. That was enough to make Tim's parents happy.

His family took a long time in accepting his relationship with Kimmy. They were very traditional and conservative across the board and so was Tim in a lot of ways. He didn't choose to fall in love with someone like Kimmy, it just happened.

Soon after their relationship started though, it became apparent that he was probably going to have a successful professional football career. Tim's family members quickly started to lose their objections. He was the kind of guy you wanted to be friends with no matter what. I'm sure they faked acceptance at first, but Kimmy could make most people fall in love with her. Especially when she was trying so hard to gain their approval.

The biggest roadblock was when news started to spread around the family that one of Tim's second cousins decided to come out as a bit of a gender bender himself. Some of the family members thought Kimmy may have been the inspiration for the kid's confusion, but Tim argued with them vigorously that it couldn't be the case. Kimmy had never even met the kid, at most he had heard the stories about her and maybe seen a picture...but it was much more likely he had gotten his inspiration elsewhere. From the internet or something. I'm inclined to agree with him.

Anyway, that was where the “mostly traditional” came in. Adriana, as he was calling himself now, was the flower girl. He was pretty in his own way. He wore a custom made lavender flower girl dress styled after the one Kimmy had worn when she was a flower girl. After they had met it was clear he looked up to her, even if she wasn't his original inspiration. He had begged to be allowed the position.

He pulled off the outfit well, but you could tell he was a boy and not a girl. He seemed to like it that way. I couldn't understand it exactly, but it was his life and I'm not one to judge. Kimmy was a gender bender flower girl once, so maybe she was just starting her own new tradition.

Marlena and I led her down the aisle ourselves, and served as bridesmaids along with Kimmy's friends Sally and Katie. It was strange looking at the two girls. They had been Kimmy's best friends when she was a little girl. They still were little girls while Kimmy had grown up in a flash.

When the ceremony was over Kimmy stood on a foot stool so she could kiss him without making him bend down and kicked up one heeled foot behind her, it was a beautiful moment. The pictures looked great.

As far as I'm concerned, they lived happily ever after.

*
Chapter 15: The Woman In White

She drags me along by the hand. I try to resist but she is too big, too strong. I'm in my pink schoolgirl sailor suit again. She loved dressing me like a schoolgirl.

With absolute horror in my voice I beg her not to do what she is planning, “Please. Please Marie. You can't do this to me, don't do this to me, you can't.”

“I warned you, you didn't listen.” She curtly responds as we keep moving down the sidewalk.

“It was an accident.” I whine in a meek whimper, “I didn't mean to drop it.”

She ignores me for a moment but then glares down at me in reproach. “I've never seen you drop your favorite dolly, never even once. You have to learn that obedience means treating your big sister's things as carefully as you do your own.”

My voice quakes in fear of the punishment I've been promised. “Why...why do you hate me so much Marie? I was always good to you before, you're my sister. I never did anything to you. Why do you hate me? Why are you so cruel to me?”

“You are a naughty, disobedient little brat and with your Mommy and Daddy away I'm responsible for your discipline. You are the worst little sister in the world.”

I start to cry in frustration as my fate comes nearer with every step. “That's not true. I'm a good little girl. I'm a perfect little girl. I never try and disobey you, I just make mistakes.”

She snorts and painfully tugs me forward, “I would not have to drag you if you were as obedient as you claim. Good little girls take their punishment without complaint.”

Maybe flattery would save me, it had a few times before, “I love you so much. You're my favorite sister. You're the best big sister in the world. I know I deserve punishment, but not...this. Can't you just spank me? Please spank me, Marie. I'll learn my lesson and do better next time, I'll always be more careful with your things.”

She snorts again. “Oh please, your favorite sister is Marlena. Not only a disobedient little girl who won't take her punishment but a deceitful little liar too.”

My groveling and sniveling become increasingly desperate as I see our destination growing nearer, “Oh no, Marie. I only said nice things about Marlena so she would buy me ice cream. You're my favorite sister for sure. You signed me up for ballet classes which I love ever so much, and you help me practice every day. When I make a mistake you always correct me and punish me so I learn from what I did wrong. She went away to that school and left me, you wouldn't abandon me like that.”

“Oh? I thought I was a cruel older sister who hates you. That's what you said. All I try to do is help you be a good little girl and you treat me like some Cruella de Vil. Have I ever broken any of YOUR things? Do I steal your dresses or cut the heads off your little dolls? Carelessly smash your tea party set? You aren't getting out of your punishment Kimmy, it's exactly what you deserve. Maybe now you will finally learn to behave.”

I cry harder than I ever had before. The hot tears run down my face in torrents and I renew my struggles and scream. “You can't! You can't! He's going to hurt me. I can't take that kind of pain! I'm begging you, don't Marie. Don't do this to me. We're family, you can't do this to family!”

“You did it to yourself.”

I fight, but her grip on me is like a vice. She pulls me up to his door. His house. He had been a frequent visitor in my nightmares ever since Marie had first made this threat so long ago. Another nightmare was about to turn real. Marie knocks on the door. The disgusting man opens it with a smile on his face. Marie shoves me at him. He turns me around so I'm facing Marie and holds me by the shoulder.

He hands her an envelope. She opens it and counts the money.

“Thanks, Mr. Jenkins. I'll be back in a couple hours, I need to go to the mall and buy a new laptop since your little guest here broke mine. Remember, you can't fuck her pussy, that is for her Daddy only. Break that rule and I can promise you I will never bring her back. We're moving soon so you better do it right if you want me to drive her back here for you. She loves to give blow jobs and she is a superstar at it according to her Daddy. Feel free to fuck that cute little ass too. She's never done that before so be careful not to tear anything, don't be too gentle though, she is here as punishment after all.”

She looks me right in the eye. “You deserve this punishment and it's fitting you will be earning the money to replace what you broke. Now give your big sister a hug and apologize for what you did.”

My spirit was broken by this point. I obey her robotically. “I'm sorry I broke your computer Marie, I'll be more careful next time you ask me to bring you something.”

She nods at me. “This time I think you actually might learn to behave. If this punishment doesn't get through to you, nothing will.” She shoves me back to him, blows me a kiss, and leaves.

When he is done sodomizing me he leaves me alone in his bedroom to franticly cry and scream in agony through the gag he put on me. I hear a knock on the door from downstairs and Marie speaking with him. She comes up to the bedroom and dresses me. When she is finished she leads me downstairs, every step is agony. My face is red from crying and anguish and fear, my hair disheveled.

Mr. Jenkins was a happy, satisfied customer. “She was great, Marie. We got along very well. She sure did hate taking it up the ass something fierce. She screamed and cried until I had to gag her. I don't think I did any permanent damage though.”

Marie nods. “The conditioning she received turned her into a little pervert who loves to get abused like this mostly, but not in the ass. Her Daddy doesn't like doing it that way and he didn't want her going to someone else to get her thrills. Nothing wrong with using it for punishment though, and Cindy made sure she was extra sensitive to the pain down there. I'm sure you were careful, but she'll be feeling this one for a while no matter what.”

The disgusting man keeps on with his description of my traumatizing performance, “You're right about how much she likes to give blow jobs. She wanted to do it over and over instead of letting me fuck her, but you can see how that worked out for her. Hard to believe she's your sister, you never liked giving blow jobs when you were little, you got so angry when I made you do that...”

He realizes he said something he shouldn't have. Marie glares at him with fury. She drags me outside and slams the door behind her.

The man is a demon. He had done the same things to my little sister and she had never told a soul. She knew exactly what she was doing to me, she lived it, and she didn't care. Cruel does not begin to describe it. I forget my troubles for a moment as something of my old self bubbles to the surface, the things the old me would have done to that man if I knew what he did to my little sister...but nobody ever knew.

As soon as we are outside she looks around to make sure no one is watching. She chokes me with one hand and pushes me backwards to the ground. She beats me, blows fall on my face and stomach. I grunt in pain and forget all about avenging her. I was used to spankings, but not something like this. Especially not when I was already in indescribable agony. My perfect face would be bruised, she would have some explaining to do. Nobody would care that she was inflicting pain on me, that was par for the course, but Daddy liked me pretty.

I wet my panties. I raise my arms to try and deflect some of the blows but she swats them away and continues.

She looms over me. She puts her hands around my neck as if to choke me, but she doesn't cut off my air supply, just makes it clear it's well within her power to do so. She looks me directly in the eyes. I try to turn away and look anywhere else out of fear, but she holds me.

She is deadly serious, icy. “You won't tell a soul, Kimmy. You forget you ever heard that, or you will be visiting him a lot more, that is a promise, do you understand?”

I nod, she releases me.

So much pain. I can no longer walk without help, she half-carries me home.

She changes me into a diaper and a nightie. She brings me downstairs and sits me on a pillow at the kitchen table. She gives me some aspirin and an ice pack for my face. She tries to give me ice cream, I start to feel the soothing rush of pleasure but I'm hit by an intense wave of vertigo. The room spins and I fall to the floor and vomit.

“Just give me my doll and put me in my crib.” I whisper with almost inaudible softness, my first words since she had beaten me. I add, “Please” at the end and cower, not wanting to offend her and make her angry with me again. Ever again.

For the next week I'm catatonic. She tries to taunt me in her usual manner, but it's like taunting a corpse. She gives up, it's no fun when I don't respond at all. I sit in my room with my doll held limply in my grip. Even the best doll in the world can't help with suffering of this magnitude. I can hear Dolly whispering, trying to comfort me, but it's too faint to understand. I sit there day after day and stare at the wall, hoping to die.

Marie starts to get worried that she had gone to far, that she wouldn't be able to explain what had happened to me while Mommy and Daddy were away. I had always bounced back every other time I had been subjected to one of their new tortures, was this the end of it?

Daddy would be very unhappy when he came home to find his favorite toy was broken.

When I woke up the day before Mommy and Daddy would return, Marie was shocked to find out that I had taken what she said about forgetting to heart. I not only forgot what I heard about her, I entirely repressed what had happened to me.

“Oh my God, Marie. What happened to me? What's wrong with my face...I don't think I remember the last week...I'm so ugly. Daddy won't love me anymore...” I break down and cry.

She replies soothingly, “You poor dear. You fell, Kimmy. Right down the stairs. Your face will be fine soon.”

“Marie...?”

“Yes, Kimmy?”

“It's embarrassing...”

“I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong, Kimmy.”

“My butt hurts....”

“You've been in a diaper all week and you couldn't walk around much...it's probably diaper rash and muscle stiffness or some kind of cramp. I'll get you some cream and an aspirin.”

I naively accepted what my big sister told me, ignorant of my true injury “Oh. Well, thank you for taking care of me while I was hurt. You're a good sister.”

“Oh yes, Kimmy. I'm the best big sister in the world.”

The hallucination faded away. I had been used to the sensation of the unreal for so long now, it could hardly ever scare me. This was the most real since I had first seen...

I looked to my right and saw her by the bedside, the monster who looked like me. Covered in blood as usual, looking me in the eye. I looked away for a moment and trembled with fear and anger and long forgotten trauma and pain.

I looked back at her and screamed, “I FORGOT IT FOR A REASON, WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LIVE IT AGAIN!?”

“You've waited too long, Kimmy. Cindy must die, you hardly even look anymore...”

“I've been so busy...I'm raising two kids...what does HE have to do with it...just one more thing to take care of...”

“You waited too long, Kimmy. You saw it in the paper and you looked away, didn't want to see it just like you pretended he never hurt you. He's already dead of a heart attack.”

“He deserved even worse, but it's over...SO WHY MAKE ME REMEMBER?”

“They found little graves, Kimmy, fresh ones. He couldn't risk them telling. You could have stopped him. I would have given you your next target after Cindy...but you took too long. You killed them.”

“YOU'RE LYING!”

I grabbed the taser from under the pillow and shot it at the monster, she dodged it gracefully and ran from the room, hissing at me.

I rolled over in the large extra kingsized bed to Tim's side, I smelled him there, but he was gone. I frantically reached around for Dolly...but of course...I gave her away.

I got out of bed and went to the kid's room. Two cribs, one pink and one blue. Adopted twins, Kim (short for Kimmy, not Kimberly) and Tim, Jr. When my infrequent night terrors returned I would wake one of them up just so I could sit in a rocking chair and ease them back to sleep. It drove big Tim nuts, but he knew I just needed to feel intense love sometimes to cool my intense hatred and pain. It probably drove the babies nuts too, but they found plenty of opportunities to wake me up in return and I never minded.

A boy in one arm and a stuffed police dog named Rex in the other, rocking in my chair. Or a girl and a dolly who never got a name aside from Dolly, rocking back and forth. Maybe one day the boy would want the doll and the girl the badge and gun, it didn't matter either way. They could be whoever they wanted and no one would tell them any different.

They weren't here tonight, away with Tim's family to give Mommy a break. I guess I did too much sometimes, but they were the only things I would never need a break from.

“Here Kiki! Come to mommy!”

Tap tap tap, little chihuahua feet up the stairs. I picked her up and returned to bed, dog hair on the sheets be damned. I opened my laptop and searched the news. He was dead. No little graves. I sighed with relief. He probably behaved. He probably didn't hurt anyone but me after he escaped his first charges. I was the little loophole hand delivered by my sister. Even so, if I had remembered I could have put him in jail, maybe. He probably didn't hurt anyone else.

Probably.

Kiki was sound asleep on the bed. I set the laptop down and searched the house. I heard it in the kid's room, quiet crying from the closet. I opened the door and sat down beside her.

“I'm sorry I lied to you Kimmy, I've never done that before, you know that, right?”

“Yes. I understand you're mad and you want your revenge, I'm trying, but there aren't any clues.”

“Someday.”

I nodded and put my arm around the monster, feeling the warm, damp blood seep into my clothes. I heard another source of soft crying in the closet. I had no idea what it was, but I embraced it too. From outside the closet there was a warm white glow. I opened the door, two hands holding my own.

There was a beautiful woman in a white dress with auburn hair in curls that looked just like mine. I recognized her, distantly.

She spoke in a voice that stirred more memories, long forgotten. “My brave little boy, come to Mommy, Timmy!”

The second hand I had been holding tore away and ran to her, the boy hugged her in a tight embrace. He looked familiar too.

The boy giggled, “It's Timothy, Mommy!”

“Oh no, to Mommy you will always be Timmy, forever and ever.”

She tickled him and they laughed.

I cried and covered my eyes. She came to me and put a hand on my shoulder, “And who are you, little girl?”

I looked up at her. There was love in her eyes. “I'm...Kimmy.”

“I know you too, Kimmy. They didn't really change you, you're still the same. Kimmy, not Kimberly, you never forgot. Just changed a few letters here and there. You did it for me, even if you don't remember. They never changed you on the inside.”

“I don't...I don't remember you at all. Are you my real Mommy?”

“Of course, my pretty little daughter.”

She turned to the other little girl in the room. “And this is...?”

The monster screamed at her, “I REMEMBER YOU, YOU LEFT US. YOU LEFT US TO HER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID TO US? WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM!?”

The woman picked up the screaming and hissing monster and hugged her tightly, none of the blood stained her white dress. “If you remember, you know I didn't go away on purpose. You saw, you were just too young to understand, or maybe that's when you were born. Your stepmother stole your father and poisoned me. If she managed to hurt you...this much, I guess she took care of him too so she could take his money. What is your name, child?”

I spoke for her, “She doesn't have one, I don't think.”

“How about...Kathy?”

The monster screamed in rage, “No. NO! You won't name me after her. She was evil, she hurt people for FUN! She killed them for FUN!”

“Don't you have fun with that knife of yours?”

The monster squirmed. “I have reasons, they made me, no other choice.”

“You had a choice. You aren't as bad as that evil woman, but Kimmy needs to know you aren't Kimmy. You are a good friend to her, but you aren't really part of her. You're Kathy's daughter, KIMMY is mine.”

She picked up the two children, one looking at her happily and lovingly...the other struggling and kicking. “We have to go now Kimmy, it was so amazing to meet you. I love you so much, I always will.”

“Can't I come with you, Mommy?”

“No, Kimmy. You don't need me anymore. This poor little boy they mutilated, he needs his Mommy. This poor little girl they molded into their own murderer, she needs me too. She needs love. She can be healed someday. Your kids need THEIR Mommy, you're an adult and a wife and people depend on you.”

“I wish you could meet Marlena, she's so nice, Kathy raised her and she still turned out good...and Marie...I think the monster in her wasn't her fault either.”

The woman shrugged, “Your father was a good man.”

I hugged her. The room turned to pure bright light all around me.

I was alone. My resentment cooled, my desperate need for revenge. I yawned and sat on the floor. I thought of Marie. I still wanted to be Clara someday. Kiki came and sat on my lap. I sat for a long time, waiting for dawn through a sleepless night like I had done so many times before, but this time in anticipation that tomorrow would be the best day of my life instead of the worst.

When my family came home, and we looked each other in the eyes, I knew I was right.

THE END

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Warning: This story contains depictions of physical abuse mainly in the form of spanking. It contains emotional and psychological abuse in a family setting. It contains abuse in the form of drugging characters without their knowledge. It contains depictions of schoolyard bullying and cruelty. It contains depictions of abusive and coercive cult like social pressure. This is a story about humiliation and forced feminization. Please don’t read if depictions of this nature are not for you.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to and very heavily inspired by Chris, the Radical Feminist, who blogs and posts great stories at: http://truepetticoating.blogspot.com/

Thanks, Chris!

Cover art by Passionate Shadow: https://passionateshadow.deviantart.com/

If you like this and are looking to commission artwork of your own, Passionate Shadow has my highest possible recommendation. Talented, professional, hard working, and a good price.

The Prissy Princess Correctional Club
By SissyKimmy1

Part 1: One Little Day, Many Little Steps

Chapter 1: Prissy Princess Bad Behavior

Shawn stood sobbing in the middle of the room as he rubbed his sore, red bottom. He was dressed only in a white, very soft cotton camisole covered in prints of tiny pink and purple flowers with the matching panties and his white tights draped around the white Mary Janes he wore on his feet.

“What a sissy crybaby!” he was taunted by his sister Cindy, the previous owner of the panties and camisole he had humiliatingly been subjected to. She was only one year older but much taller and more developed than her brother. She hadn’t worn the childish girly-girl underwear for many years, and now, much to her delight, they belonged to her brother and fit him perfectly.

Shawn could do nothing but stare down at his girly new underwear in abject shame at what was happening to him. He had gotten in trouble with the law multiple times recently, and to avoid juvenile hall he had agreed to participate in a special diversion program overseen by his mother, who was a judge in juvenile court. She said it was a pilot program being introduced for testing that she had helped to design. She told him it was called, “The PPCC,” and that it was designed to keep him out of trouble and help him reach his true potential as a boy.

His mother warned him that it was a very new and controversial program and that his chapter would be one of the very first in the nation. She said it would likely be at least a decade before the programs started to become widespread. The first major push was aimed for around 2004. She told him it would be a very big help to her and to his legal case if he signed up because the program needed initial successful students if it was going to start to grow. When he asked if the program was similar to what his sister had taken, she assured him that the girls and boys versions of the program were designed from the ground up to be perfect complements to one another, and that he would reach his full and proper potential just like his sister was doing.

He readily agreed. His sister had been voluntarily enrolled in one of their mother’s programs when they were both little. Ever since that time, it seemed like she outshined him in everything she did, especially the things expected of boys, even though he used to viciously make fun of her for being such a girly girl. Ever since she joined her mother’s program she was a better athlete, a genius level student in math and science with no exaggeration, and she always seemed to have all the confidence in the world. All of this was because of his mother’s accelerated learning program for girls. The “CGPC” or Champion Girl Promotion Club which had steadily grown to a full class of thirty young girls for this coming school year. For the first time this year, the program was moving into a brand new school building all its own and would be run as a boarding school. Shawn and his family would live in a separate house on school grounds.

The program was funded by an extreme radical feminist splinter group that was hoping to change the face of education. They blamed patriarchal society for brainwashing girls away from athletics and hard sciences and robbing them of their confidence to make them dependent on men. They isolated and immersed the girls in their own specially designed program rolled out in a few small enclaves where the radical feminists held political power and it seemed to have incredible results. Shawn’s mother was a local judge and was interested in the program, so she helped implement it in their town and his sister was one of the very first students.

Shawn thought that if he took one of his Mother’s programs he could finally start to catch up to his sister. Whenever he complained about her people just told him he should be proud of her and support her for doing so well. But that was hard when she was constantly taunting and bullying him and lording her success and maturity over him. She deliberately provoked him and it made it impossible for him not to seethe with jealousy, because no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t keep up. She relished in taking sadistic revenge for Shawn’s bullying of her when they were little.

The only thing he really had was his baseball team, where he was doing well and made friends with the team members who didn’t know him from school. He loved it. At school it was hard making friends because of a pair of bullies in his class he would only identify to his Mother and sister as, “The Twin Tormentors,” when he attempted to beg to be moved to another school or into a program like his sister’s.

His Mother instead insisted on his big sister Cindy going to school with him to confront the bullying boys and get them to leave him alone. Under any circumstances a boy would know it was a bad idea to have your sister come bail you out from bullying. It was even worse when she arrived to discover the true identity of the pair of bullies he had humiliatingly nicknamed with comic book or pro-wrestling villain grandiosity. It was two very pretty, blonde haired, identical twin girls named Karen and Diane Sinclair, who had the infuriating ability to appear and sound identically innocent as saints under any circumstances. They spoke with identical bossy, posh British accents and almost always wore the same fashionable clothes and hairstyles, which they were doing that day.

The three had actually been genuine friends when they first met. Shawn was an outcast in his class. He was bad at most sports the boys played besides baseball and was more the dreamy type who was interested in art. He was always doodling and sketching and daydreaming in class. He wanted to try harder and keep up with his sister, but it was difficult for him and his mind wandered.

The two new girls were rejected by the class for coming from another country and talking funny and being bossy. Shawn was the only one who was nice to them at first because he understood what it was like to be left out. He found the ways they were different from the rest of the people he knew to be exotic and interesting while the rest of the class just saw them as weird.

For reasons he couldn’t understand, eventually they turned on him and spent their time making his life miserable instead of being real friends. The betrayal hurt the sensitive boy very deeply and made the bullying feel even worse.

Cindy laughed at the idea of helping her little brother against two prissy seeming girls and told told him he had to handle that on his own. She said it was more likely he was was the one who started it, considering how he used to bully her for being girly when they were very little. Cindy told them everything he had said about them bullying him, and exaggerated his complaints to make him sound like he was snivelling like a little girl at the time. Then she told them about his private nickname for them. He had only used it the one time out of frustration, but once they heard it they never let him forget it.

He could still hear them laughing and repeating it in that moment, together singsong in unison in that infuriating accent, “The Twin Tormentors!?” They were in hysterics.

Then the one on the left said, “Oh save me, Mummy! It’s The Twin Tormentors! Help me, Mummy! I wet my knickers!”

“Shut up, Diane!” he screamed.

Suddenly the two twins stopped laughing and looked curiously at each other. Then the one on the right said, “What a little fairy, begging his big sister to come help him deal with his two best mates just because we teased him a little? He belongs in knickers and a frock for real.”

“We’re not best friends, Karen! I hate you!” he replied.

The twins looked at each other again almost confused. “You can tell us apart?” Diane, the one on the left asked.

“We didn’t know you could do that. Nobody can tell us apart,” Karen, the one on the right added. “You didn’t used to be able to do that, we’ve been in class together ever since we moved to the States and you’ve never been able to do that before,” she mused.

“Even our parents make me show the birthmark when they need to be sure,” Diane said. Both girls pulled up their shirts a little, showing a distinctive mark on the right side of Diane’s torso.

Bullying forgotten for the moment they made him turn around, close his eyes, count to ten, and turn around again. He guessed right again, and then they kept repeating the test and he got four out of five.

“Fascinating,” Cindy said. “I think I know how he does it.”

“Who cares?” Shawn asked in frustration. He added sarcastically, “Can you go now? Thanks so much for the help!”

“How does he do it?” Karen asked.

“Tell us!” Diane added.

Cindy told them her theory, seeming to take pleasure in her ability to explain it with clinical sounding coldness, “Instinct. He’s so afraid of you that he’s subconsciously reacting to you like you’re a predator and he’s your prey. Fear has made him very highly attentive of you, all the time on the lookout. You’re just walking around together having a normal day. But he’s spending all that time thinking about that incident two weeks ago when,” she paused and laughed now seeing the incident in a different light than when she thought it was boys who did it, “The Twin Tormentors pulled down his pants at recess in front of the whole class. What was that about anyway?”

“He wanted to practice baseball with a few of the boys instead of coming off and practicing football with his two best mates,” Karen said.

“We thought otherwise,” Diane added.

Cindy looked down at her pouting brother and then back at the twins with some annoyance for the very first time. “Well, he’s not allowed to be playing football, it’s too dangerous for someone like him, he did the right thing in saying no. I think it’s really cool that you Twin Tormentors are playing but...”

The girls giggled, “Soccer,” they interrupted together.

Karen added, “He’s not very good but we have him play goalie and collect the balls for us, we don’t have a net so we just use cones.”

Diane continued, “The boys use the only net and they won’t let us play.”

Cindy looked annoyed. “Well that’s not right at all.” Cindy turned to her brother, “Shawn, I know you want to play baseball with the boys but you should be spending time with your best friends at recess. Especially when they need your help. I think you owe,” she paused and rolled her eyes dramatically, “The Twin Tormentors here, an apology.”

A red faced, resentful Shawn had no choice but to comply.

They never stopped bullying him after that. It was fun for them and Cindy had basically given them carte blanche on behalf of his mother. When he went home to complain about how Cindy had handled the situation his mother said she trusted Cindy’s judgement and that Karen and Diane sounded like precisely the sort of girls he should be making friends with.

He kept trying to make friends with the boys in his class, but Karen and Diane would always mess it up somehow and he was stuck with them. That’s what got him in this mess. He could never get away from them, and then when they did something that finally made him snap, he ended up in the most trouble he had ever been in.

It wasn’t until that morning, the first day of his sentence, when he woke up to find the PPCC handbook on his nightstand that he realized he had agreed to a very different program than his sister’s. The full title of the guide was, “The Prissy Princess Correctional Club Guidebook.” The jacket of the book was covered with silver and pink glitter and impossible to read without getting some on your clothes and hands.

In numb shock he turned to the first page where there was a preface that read, “Welcome, willing inductee, to your Prissy Princess Correctional Club Trial Period. Prissy Princess Trial Period methods and timeframes are subject to individual variation, but remember, at the successful completion of their Prissy Princess Trial Period EVERY Prissy Princess is privileged to receive a special unique Prissy Princess title all his own because every Prissy Princess is a special and unique snowflake. Wow! What’s yours? You don’t have to pick now, but you can’t complete your Prissy Princess Trial Period until you do.”

There was a form underneath the words with blanks to be filled in, it read, My name is “Little Miss ______, (Fill in the new Prissy Princess name your guardian has chosen for you.)

“And I’m the Prissy Princess of ______ ______ ______.” (Use three, in any order:)

-Your favorite color.
-Your favorite flower.
-One of your favorite things about being a Prissy Princess. Be creative!
-Your favorite spice or herb.
-Your favorite sugary treat.
-A word from the Prissy Princess ABCs

He read no further and charged downstairs to object, but just as he left his room he was ambushed by his Mother and Sister and dragged back inside. They forced him to wear his sister’s childish outgrown underwear and a pair of tights and Mary Janes and then they took pictures with a Polaroid camera. His mother then dragged him downstairs by his ear and a few minutes later he was in open rebellion again. It didn’t last long.

“You have no one but yourself to blame,” his mother scolded as his post spanking sobs began to quiet. She grabbed him by the ear and made him mince towards the corner with his panties and tights still at his ankles. He was forced to stay there sitting for twenty minutes on a pink stool with a glittery pink sandpaper seat continuing to read the Prissy Princess Guidebook. He wore a pink conical hat with the phrase “Prissy Princess Bad Behavior” printed on it in white.

“Now. Are you ready to apologize to your sister and do as you’re told or do you need to spend some more time over my knee?”

With renewed sobs he nodded.

“Speak up, Little Miss Shawna,” his mother sternly ordered as he stood.

“Yes,” he replied in a sniveling whiny voice which earned him another quick slap on the rear, this time with the hated guide book which had been snatched back from him. His sister laughed, in part at the glitter that had been left there after the impact.

“Say it like the book says you should, Cupcake,” his mother instructed.

“Yes, Mommy!” He squealed. “I’ll do as Miss Cindy says like a good Prissy Princess.”

In reply, she pointed to where his sister Cindy stood with a smug look of amusement and superiority on her face. Shawn bent down to pull up his humiliating underwear before his mother pulled him up by the ear and again pointed to his sister.

“Since your sister is the one you disobeyed, even after she was kind enough to give you such a nice gift of her own hand me down panties from when she was little like you, she gets to decide when your punishment is finished. Maybe if you ask her very sweetly she will decide you’ve learned your lesson and can pull up your pretty panties and tights.”

Shawn was still forced by the humiliating little girl underwear tangled around his ankles to take tiny mincing steps towards his sister who stood clear across the room laughing at every moment of his emasculating humiliation. “When I’m done with you, my little sissy sister, mincing everywhere will be completely natural for you. I doubt you’ll even remember how to walk like a boy.”

Shawn sobbed at the promise. When his mincing journey across the room to where she stood mocking him was completed, Cindy forced him to look into her eyes as he spoke. “I’m sorry for disobeying you Miss Cindy. Please may I pull up my panties? Thank you so much for giving them to me, they’re very pretty.” He gritted his teeth at being forced to refer to her so respectfully when he was burning with resentment over his current circumstance.

Cindy smiled as she replied, “Of course, Princess.” She bent down and did the job herself. Quickly she pulled up the soft cotton panties covered in purple and pink flowers and she could feel her brother shivering and shaking in humiliation and confusion at the sensations he felt from his new underwear being put back in place.

Shawn watched in the mirror as she slowly drew up the tights and fumed at the indignity of having no choice but to submit to this humiliating feminization at the hands of his sister. She was only one year older than him but their relationship had been more like a mature aunt and a little boy for many years now.

“Thank you, Miss Cindy,” the sniveling boy replied as the tights were pulled snugly up, his panties still clearly visible beneath the white tights.

Cindy turned and picked up the object that had forced Shawn to try to resist his punishment and earn his spanking. That is to say, she lifted the very top of it out of the very large box it came in, the rhinestone covered sleeveless white bodice peaked out and below was what to Shawn looked like a bottomless sea of light purple taffeta. It was what his mother and sister had decided would be his very first Prissy Princess dress. It would change his life forever. All because he got in serious trouble twice in two weeks.

-

WHAT'S YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL UNIQUE TITLE GOING TO BE? DO YOU KNOW YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS ABCs?

SHOULD YOU BE THE PRISSY PRINCESS OF...

PINK CHOCOLATE SURPRISES!?
CINNAMON RED ROSES!?
DITZY YELLOW DANDELIONS!?
CUTE CRINOLINE CYAN!?

Write some suggestions for your Prissy Princess special unique title in your Prissy Princess workbook. Don’t worry if they don’t seem quite right, you’ll know just what to pick when the time comes. In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of your favorite flower or a beautiful and unique snowflake. :)

Chapter 2: Prissy Princess ABCs

The first time he got in trouble had been for hitting a baseball through a rich (and vindictive) neighbor’s window and running away instead of taking responsibility. His mother refused to believe it wasn’t his fault. But it wasn’t, it was The Twin Tormentors.

Their shrill, impossibly haughty yet casual voices had pierced that quiet summer afternoon, “Hi Shawny!” the one on the right said.

“There you are, Shawny!” the one on the left said.

He had been walking home from baseball practice and they were there waiting to meet him.

Shawn froze and looked at the two loathsome girls. Ever since his sister had told them her theory a few years previously it became tradition that he had to guess which was which whenever they met up. If he got it wrong, or he complained about it, they would find some creative new way to torment him. If he got it right, they could be close to at least vaguely almost semi-tolerable companions at times and they made sure he had nobody else anyway, besides his baseball team.

At school, he always had to sit at the desk between them. Over the years they had convinced their parents and his mother that they were inseparable best friends. They would even shamelessly shed tears and claim it was like they were triplets if a teacher ever tried to separate their group. So, every time he tried to complain about them his teachers would treat it like a sibling squabble and let them work it out on their own.

In most classrooms children tend to segregate along gender lines. In Shawn’s class there were the girls, the boys, and then “The triplets.” The triplets usually sat together at their own table at lunch. Or sometimes Shawn sat between the twins at the girls table. Not too often though, because most of the girls found the twins too stuck up and bossy. Listening to Karen and Diane’s endless high volume accented chit chat as he sat between them often gave him a headache. The triplets never sat with the boys because the boys wouldn’t let the twins sit with them because they were girls. They weren’t even that sure about Shawn by himself. The twins were his apparent best friends and they were constantly holding hands with him or kissing him on the cheek when the boys were still at an age where attracting that kind of attention from girls was icky, not something to be proud of.

If their exclusive little three person clique ever got in any trouble, and they did frequently, it was Shawn who took all the blame because when anyone else looked at Karen and Diane they saw two precisely identical, pretty, blonde haired, well behaved, innocent little girls with accents that made them sound like royalty to most American ears. They didn’t see The Twin Tormentors. And on the other hand, they saw a slightly scrawny boy with messy somewhat long black hair who was probably up to no good when they looked at Shawn. Sometimes it was just something minor that got him in trouble. The twins favorite game was to pass notes to each other all day long. They held entire conversations during class without ever being scolded for talking during class like some of the other girls. Shawn would spend more time trying to carefully pass their notes without getting caught than paying attention in class when he was desperate to attempt to keep up with his sister’s achievements.

When he was caught he would have to stand and read the note out loud. It was often something deliberately embarrassing the twins would never actually say. “I think Betsy is super cute, I have a crush on her,” he would have to say out loud. And then everyone would assume it was him, not one of the twins who wrote the note. Betsy, the most popular girl in class, kicked him in the shins and called him a wimp and a nerd in front of everyone because of that.

But the baseball through the window was more than embarrassing for him, it was a nightmare. He looked to his right and left one more time.

“Well, Shawny?” the one on the right asked.

He looked to his right. “Hi, Karen!”

The one on the right, Diane, shook her head and tisked at him. “Don’t even know your two very best mates on sight. That seems like something...”

“...The Twin Tormentors,” the one on the left, Karen, continued, “Will have to punish.”

“Show me!” Shawn insisted.

Diane, the one on the right, giggled and raised her shirt to show the mark.

“Have we ever lied?” Karen asked.

“What are you gonna do?” Shawn asked them.

“How about a simple trade?” Karen asked.

“We’ve never played baseball. If you can do it we probably can to, will you teach us?” Diane continued.

“You can’t join my team. It’s full, someone would have to quit first. Two someones even, I know one of you won’t do it alone even if it does mean you get to embarass me.”

They giggled, “Maybe next year, we’ve heard at least one player is going to quit by then,” Karen added.

Diane continued, “But you could teach us until then. Let’s try it!” She grabbed the bat from him and Karen grabbed the glove and ball.

“Give them back!” he shouted. “I’ll teach you but we can’t do it here. We could get in trouble.”

Both of them laughed and Shawn fumed. “I could get in trouble!” Shawn tried instead.

“Then just leave them here with us,” Karen said.

“Yeah,” Diane agreed.

In unison as if practiced they taunted, “Go home and play with your dolls, fairy.”

His face turned red. “I can’t leave them with you. I need them tomorrow for practice. And I don’t play with dolls! You play with dolls! You’re always talking about your grandmother’s doll! Aren’t you too old to be obsessed with a doll anyway? Grow up! Nobody wants to play baseball with a bunch of prissy babies! Go home and have a tea party with your dolls and leave me alone!”

“He’s jealous of our doll!” Karen laughed totally dismissing his attempts to taunt back.

“Tell you what, Shawny, it’s a trade. You can have the doll, we’ll take the baseball things,” Diane said. She took the ball and lined up across from Karen who held the bat.

Shawn saw the window directly across from where Diane was setting up to pitch. “Watch out for the window!” he shouted. “Don’t pitch it to her there!”

Diane ignored him and froze for a moment staring intensely towards Karen. She quickly darted forward in what he at first felt relieved to discover was some incompetent girlish attempt at imitating a baseball pitcher, but despite the seemingly awkward and unrecognizable form she soon planted her foot and in a whirling overhand throw with a whiplike release tossed the ball directly dead center through the window. Karen swung low at the errant ball in what almost looked like a golf swing, making no effort at all to connect.

“Rubbish,” They both said.

“What a cock-up!” Diane added.

“We’re no good at baseball at all,” Karen added.

Before Shawn could process what was happening, they dropped the glove and bat and ran. He froze, stunned. Then he froze again, stunned that their actions could still stun him. Then he made a big mistake, he ran, but not before the owner of the house got a very good look at him. It was easy to confirm the glove, ball and bat belonged to him as well. Nobody recalled seeing The Twin Tormentors anywhere near the window, just some bad boys playing baseball where they shouldn’t. They remembered this because The Twin Tormentors had returned seconds after Shawn ran to report to the homeowner that they had been standing across the street and saw a gang of very bad boys, and that Shawn was one of the ringleaders. They broke into tears when they reported that, because a crowd had formed over the commotion and their extremely close friendship with Shawn was well known around the neighborhood. Who could forget that the black haired little troublemaking boy was absolutely inseparable from those sweet precious identical twins with the adorable British accents? What a shame, they thought, that he had fallen in with a bad crowd and let them down.

For Shawn, his entire life was like he had two incredibly overbearing older British step-sisters, and he already had enough trouble trying to cope with his real American overbearing older sister and his extremely overbearing Mother. Baseball was all he had, and The Twin Tormentors had taken it away. His mother refused to buy him a new glove and bat and he was forced to use all of his saved up allowance money to pay for the window he didn’t even break. When he returned to school the twins acted like nothing had happened. He spent every day those next two weeks thinking about how sweet it would be to finally have some revenge on them, but they laughed off anything he did like they didn’t care. They even continued to torment him about the event. One day a note he got caught passing and was forced to read out loud to the class said, “K+D, I’m so jealous of your precious doll! -Shawny.”

Then, one day the twins brought their grandmother’s doll into school as part of a history report. They said that the doll was very valuable. The doll had blonde hair and blue eyes and wore a fancy old fashioned dress. The twins said that the doll was from before World War II and that their grandmother had carried it everywhere when she was a little girl, even after their family fled London during the Blitz. It was actually a very interesting presentation, Shawn thought, until they got to the ending. They talked about how their Grandmother had given it to them to share when they were little because they admired it so much, and they said that in the spirit of continuing the tradition, they had decided to give the doll to Shawn, their mutual best friend and spiritual triplet, who admired the doll so much he had even agreed to trade his baseball glove and bat for it before he lost them. Shawn stood in outrage, his face red as the entire class laughed at him. Every single student and even the teacher was utterly convinced he actually wanted the doll and was even willing to give up playing baseball to have it.

Enough was enough, he thought. He resolved to himself that he would never let The Twin Tormentors push him around again. He stood up and angrily told them off. He said he hated dolls and all girly things. He screamed every dirty name at them he could come up with and insisted that he hated them and would never speak to them again. Then, he pulled the dolls head off right in front of them and the entire class. It was only then that he started to calm down from his blind rage and realized that if the doll was as valuable as they said it was, he could have simply dealt with the embarrassment and sold it so he could buy a new glove and bat. It was too late for that.

Of course, since nobody believed the twins were bullying him, or if they did they thought it was his own fault if he let girls push him around, Shawn was regarded as the bad guy in this situation as usual. The Twins had put on an Oscar calibre performance as innocent little victims as usual. One could really believe they thought of Shawn as their triplet and that his abusive tirade had shocked them to the core even though they were nearly as nasty to Shawn every day as he had been that once. When they were playing victim over the incident, they started to refer to Shawn as “The Dolly Destroyer,” as a cheeky companion to the absurd nickname he had given them.

He was to be expelled from school for the abusive things he said to the twins in front of everyone and for destroying the valuable and historic doll instead of simply refusing the gift politely. He was also facing potential charges in court for this incident and for the baseball incident. The single saving grace of the disaster was that he was finally free of the horrible Twin Tormentors for good. But that was little consolation now that he had a hint of what his new educational program would be like.

Shawn’s mother was absolutely outraged when she heard the news, and knew it was time for her to act. She had convinced him to join the PPCC and was now ready to start his new life. She forced him to dress up in the panties, tights, camisole, and Mary Janes and pose with smile on his face so she could take a polaroid picture and that’s when she explained the situation. Shawn could either enthusiastically dedicate himself to being the best Prissy Princess he could be and doing everything his mother and big sister told him, whether he liked it or not, or he could go to juvenile hall. His mother would use her connections to make sure all the other boys saw a copy of the photo. Shawn had initially agreed, that submission his first step from macho boy to true sissy, but when he saw the dress his male ego just couldn’t help but demand he make one last attempt to fight back.

That’s when he was forced to experience the thirty minute ordeal over his mother’s knee while his sister watched on in amusement. For the first ten minutes she spanked him over the tights with his Mary Jane clad feet kicking in the air. She didn’t spank the entire time, this was just a warmup. She would stop to repeatedly lecture him on how poor his behavior had been and what would be expected of him as a Prissy Princess. After that she pulled down his tights and continued for another ten minutes over his panties. With his legs all tangled up he could no longer kick them, he tried to use his arm to block some of the blows. For the first ten minutes he continued to backtalk and insist he was still a boy. For the next ten he was simply begging not to be forced to act like a girl and for his mother to destroy the photo. After twenty minutes, his mother pulled down his panties and held his arms very tightly so he could now to nothing to react or fight back, just stare at the ground and sob as she spanked him non-stop for five minutes. After that, he screamed, “I’m a Prissy Princess!”

His mother told him she wanted to make very sure he didn’t want to go to juvenile hall instead so she kept the sobbing sissy on her lap for another five minutes. Each minute she would give his bare bottom a single slap and ask, “Are you a boy?”

And Shawn was forced to reply, “I’m a Prissy Princess and my name is Little Miss Shawna!” After five minutes, with tears in his eyes, he was handed a pen covered in pink glitter that wrote in pink ink and his Prissy Princess Guidebook and was forced to fill in, “Shawna” on the form on the first page with the blank for his new Prissy Princess name.

The dress was the most spectacularly prissy and girly thing Shawn had ever seen. It was a lavender and white, sleeveless, floor length ball gown for little girls. The dress was suitable for a particularly fancy flower girl or prissy birthday girl, but definitely not for any boy or even most girls. It just screamed that the wearer very clearly thought of themselves as a girly girl prissy little princess. The white bodice of the dress was embroidered with sparkly rhinestones. It had a corset lace back that left some of his back visible. The very full and poufy lavender taffeta skirt had a satin sash at the waist that tied in a bow on the front and three separate bows going down the rear of the skirt. The skirt covered layers and layers of white crinolines. The bottom of the skirt was embroidered with flowers in white lace and the skirt was so full there would even be an elegant trail of lace behind him as he walked.

“Please can I wear it, Miss Cindy? Shawn was forced to ask.

“I’m still not sure that you mean it, Shawna,” His sister replied. “I told you I wanted you to ask for it like you really wanted it, didn’t I?”

Shawn tried again with similar results. He couldn’t contain his humiliation and disgust at the thought of wearing that little girl’s dream dress and it was showing.

“I think we just need to get you into the right mindset first. This is all happening so fast, little sissy sis, I know what to do!”

From a bag she retrieved a box covered in pink wrapping paper and handed it to her brother who was forced to kneel still only clad in little girl’s underwear and Mary Janes and open his present. Inside was a doll wearing a replica of the dress they would be forcing him to wear. The doll had black hair and green eyes like he did as well. Shawn seethed at the indignity of being forced to play with a doll after all he had been through. His sister assured him playing with his dolls was going to be his new favorite pastime.

After suitable sniveling thanks for the gift of his new dolly he was forced to clutch the doll in one arm while he repeatedly skipped around the room. He was forced to read out loud from the next page of the Prissy Princess Guidebook, one he was told he must memorize immediately. The page contained, “The Prissy Princess ABCs,” which it wrote were a list of words to help describe what an ideal Prissy Princess should be like. His sister instructed him on how to speak, raising the pitch of his voice and trying to sound as cloyingly sweet and feminine as possible.

His sister ordered him to contemplate his fate as he skipped around the room, doll in arms and Prissy Princess ABCs on his mind. She told him to really think about his destiny to go from being a macho bullying boy to the most prissy of princess and how he had no choice at all. He was told to think about his sore bottom and what he would face if he didn’t play his role well enough. He was told to think about how everyone he knew was going to see him as the biggest sissy boy ever and he couldn’t stop it. When he completed a circuit of the room he was told to stop, hug his dolly very tightly with both hands and mince over to the dress to look at it again. He had to keep skipping and singing his PPABCs until he felt emasculated and girly enough to really beg for the dress with a big smile on his face and convincing enthusiasm.

After about fifteen minutes Shawn finally stopped and begged his sister to let him wear the dress. He gushed about how pretty it was and how it matched his dolly and about how much of a princess it would make him feel like. “Oh please, Miss Cindy, pretty please may I wear it? I love it so much! The lace is so pretty and lavender is my favorite color! I’ll do anything! Please, Miss Cindy, please!”

Cindy wasn’t satisfied, and he minced away to resume skipping with tears in his eyes. Cindy smiled. She knew the next time would be the real fun.

Shawn was physically and mentally exhausted from skipping around the room in nothing but tights and little girl underwear and a look of determination came to his face. He skipped around once more, steeling himself, before he stopped to hug his dolly and minced over to this sister with a huge forced grin on his face.

Oh how he begged. Never letting the smile drop. He clumsily tried to adopt little girl mannerisms. Cindy promised him he would later perfect them. He held his hands primly in front of him. He would hop up and down in apparent enthusiasm. He would do as good a curtsy as he knew how. He acted like the biggest sissy he could and begged, “Pretty pretty Prissy Princess please can I wear my fabulous princess dress!? It’s everything I ever wanted!”

“I don’t know, Shawna. You still don’t sound like a true Prissy Princess to me,” his sister replied.

Shawn almost screamed in frustration wondering how much more they wanted him to debase himself. Not knowing what else to do he looked to his mother for relief from his sister’s torment.

“Well, Shawna,” his mother spoke, “What do you think a prissy very little girl would do if someone said she wasn’t allowed to wear a pretty dress? Do you think she would just take no for an answer?”

His sister looked at him expectantly. His face turned red again as he realized what he had to do. Not quite ready to face it, he turned and skipped around the room one more time before stopping, hugging his dolly, taking a deep breath, and mincing back towards his sister with a decidedly petulant frown on his face.

“I want my pretty princess dress! Now!” he demanded. He stamped his foot in impotent protest.

His sister smiled realizing he had indeed caught on with what she wanted. “I said no, Little Miss Shawna. It looks like someone is going to get another spanking for disobeying big sister,” she threatened.

“I don’t care! I want to wear my pretty new dress! I want it now!” Shawn shouted in reply,

After a few more minutes of back and forth like this Shawn started up with the waterworks. “But it’s so pretty Miss Cindy, why can’t I have it? It would look so pretty and adorable on me! Pretty please!” he whined with glistening tears on his cheeks.

After ten minutes it was a full blown out of control temper tantrum like a toddler girl being denied a treat. Shawn cried and begged and screamed hysterically to be allowed to wear his pretty new dress. “MOMMY IT’S MINE! MISS CINDY! *SOB* I WANT IT NOW! *SOB* I WANT MY DRESS! IT’S NOT FAIR! I WANT TO WEAR MY PRETTY NEW DRESS! *SOB* IT’S NOT FAIR, MOMMY! TELL MISS CINDY TO GIVE IT TO ME!” Eventually in one final impotent gesture he threw his dolly to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest with a pout.

Laughing hysterically at the drawn out performative temper tantrum she had forced from her brother his sister replied, “Well of course you can wear it, Princess. I was just having some fun. But remember, you still need another spanking for disobeying sister.”

“Don’t forget, for not taking care of his dollies too,” his mother added before picking up the doll and forcing it back into his hands. “Little boys who become Prissy Princesses to learn not to hurt other people’s dollies will be in big trouble if anything happens to their own. Don’t forget it, Little Miss Shawna. And you had also better remember that outside of a cute little sissy tantrum like that, ‘It’s not fair,’ is a phrase a Prissy Princess never says to whoever’s in charge. Your job is to do what you’re told, not to question your big sister. Understand, Cupcake?”

“Yes, Mommy!” he squealed and with those words the humiliated sissy looked up in fear as his sister pulled him over her lap to receive his second spanking of the day. He cried in pain and frustration and screamed promises that he would be a good little princess for her.

With tears in his eyes, he held his sister’s hand as he minced towards the dress, panties and tights again still at his ankles. His sister pulled them up and gently patted him on the behind, much to his humiliation. In minutes his mother was tightly lacing up the back and he was wearing his girly girl nightmare dress.

-

EVERY PRISSY PRINCESS HAS TO KNOW THE PRISSY PRINCESS ABCs!

The Prissy Princess ABCs

A is for Angel
B is for Beauty
C is for Cute
D is for Ditzy
E is for Empathy
F is for Fancy
G is for Giggles
H is for Happy
I is for Image
J is for Jovial
K is for Kawaii
L is for Loyal
M is for Moral
N is for Nice
O is for Open
P is for Pomp
Q is for Quiet
R is for Regal
S is for Slim
T is for Twee
U is for Upright
V is for Vacant
W is for Waifish
X is for Xylose
Y is for Yielding
Z is for Zesty

Do you have a favorite? Why is it your favorite? Do you know what xylose is? Write your answers in your Prissy Princess workbook. In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what the ideal image of a Prissy Princess may look like. :)

Chapter 3: Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place

The wide poufy lavender floor length skirt with the delicate white lace trail behind it was difficult to manage, especially for a boy who had never worn a skirt before. There was no choice but to keep taking mincing little steps, but even then he could barely manage to walk in it. He couldn’t see his Mary Jane clad feet. He couldn’t even see the floor for what felt like several feet around him. It was impossible to ignore the strange feelings he felt as he minced along with the tights and the massive crinolined skirt swishing and rustling with every tiny little step he took. Every little movement and he could hear the rustling of the skirt, the only chance not to hear it was to stand or sit completely still. Every single single moment the struggling remains of his male ego were shouting in protest at what he was doing, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He wore underwear and shoes suitable for a five year old little girl and a girly girl princess dream dress like something out of a Disney movie.

His sister led him by the hand to the mirror and made her brother see himself as the soppy, dolly clutching, mincing and skipping, ultra little girly girl Prissy Princess he had become. He was forced to apologize, sincerely and enthusiastically for several minutes of course, to the doll in the matching dress he had thrown on the ground and was told he would name, “Miss Priscilla.”

“This is just the start, little sissy sis. You aren’t a boy anymore. You can’t be. Not ever again. Not after what you did today. Not after what you’re going to do later. You know it. I know it. I’m going to make you into the biggest sissy there is. You won’t remember how to be a boy, only to be a parody of a traditionally feminine mincing little girl who lives for dresses and dolls. I know there’s still some part of you who wants to fight it, and there always will be. But that part is going to grow quieter and quieter until one day you won’t even remember it’s there. Until I remind you Mom and I did this to you against your will. But even then, you won’t give up being a Prissy Princess. You won’t know how. You won’t want to. And we wouldn’t let you anyway. It’s better to just not fight it, Little Miss Shawna. This is who you are now. I’m not saying you have to commit to it today, but you will be playing the part today and everyday from now on anyway, I promise you, so you might as well consider embracing it instead of fighting it. Okay, Shawna?”

“Yes, Miss Cindy,” Shawn replied despite having no intentions of ever considering embracing it for real.

Cindy sensed he was not being honest. She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Close your eyes, Shawna.”

Shawn closed his eyes. As his sister spoke still all in a whisper he could feel lipstick and other cosmetics being applied and eventually pulling and tugging on his moderately long hair. He felt something clipped onto his his ears and at one point was made to hold out his hands for what was clearly nail polish. He heard a soft sound and then smelled a heavily applied lavender scented perfume. “What do you think it will be like for you after a full year of being a Prissy Princess?”

Cindy ruffled his skirt and Shawn shuddered at the sensations he felt as she continued with his eyes tightly closed. Shawn couldn’t help but imagine himself in every single situation she described in her semi-hypnotic whispering voice, “A year of beginner ballet classes. A year of public ballet recitals. And tap too. A year of beauty pageants and pageant coaching. Beginners gymnastics in a cute little leotard.

“Of course, someone in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club like you has to do community service. Little sweetheart Shawna is going to volunteer at the senior center to help keep the old folks entertained. Imagine it Shawna, all those nice old ladies treating you like their own precious little granddaughter after you show up to keep them company after ballet class still wearing your pink leotard and tutu. Just think how much they’ll love you after you show up in a Shirley Temple dress to tap dance for them? Won’t that be fun?” Cindy ruffled his skirts again and she giggled as she could see him blush profusely. For a few quick moments she could hear him involuntarily tapping his Mary Jane clad feet hidden beneath his skirts. He was swaying back and forth and trembling in fear of the promise of more emasculating humiliation. Cindy could tell he was doing as instructed and imagining along with her words.

“We haven’t even talked about your new school. Think of your new school uniform. Regulation frilly white panties and white tights.” She ran her hand down his leg over his skirt and he squealed like a little girl. “Tights just like you’re wearing now. A fluffy white petticoat that falls a few inches above your knees.” She swished his skirts again. He started breathing heavily and held his hand to his stomach, feeling butterflies there. “A pink and white tartan jumper dress over a white blouse with puffed up sleeves and a pink ribbon tie at your collar. You are a Prissy Princess boy after all, and boys should wear ties,” she giggled.

“The school is exempt from many school regulations and academic standards because it’s a correctional program for hard to manage little troublemakers like you used to be, Shawna. But it won’t be anything like a prison. For the first few years, or maybe not so long if you prove a fast learner, your classes are going to be all about how to be the perfect prissy parody of a traditional little girl and nothing else. A perfect Little Miss who acts like an over the top super girly girl aged three to eight. You’ll learn to play like a little girl. Won’t it be fun to spend your days playing dollies and house and hop scotch and pattycake? Spending hours elaborately coloring every single page in every princess coloring book on the market? Prissy Princess Art Class to teach you how to draw things like that yourself, and you get to draw nothing else?

“Along with that you’ll learn how to do traditional girls work and girls chores like sewing and cooking, how to act like a pretty little maid for Mommy and big sister at home and for the Champion Girls at school? You’ll learn perfect dainty girly penmanship. How to walk, talk, act, and think like a mega girly-girl. Prissy Princess makeup, hair, and fashion classes. Do you want to know what the absolutely most best part is, Little Miss Shawna?”

She moved in front of him and grabbed both of his hands tightly as he still kept his eyes tightly shut as ordered. “I’m going to be your teacher!”

Cindy was extremely bright and was taking many classes way advanced beyond her years. She was even taking some college courses. She was going to be a doctor one day and was already very interested in psychology and psychiatry. “I’m getting college credit as a teacher’s aide. You see, there’s no reason to hire someone full time for now because you’re the first for our new chapter. You’ll be the only student in your class, for now. So at least at the start, you’re going to often share a classroom with the Champion Girls.

“The Champion Girls are nothing like the girls from your school, well, maybe there are two who would fit in,” she laughed. “Their uniforms are plain blue pants, plain white shirts, and a plain blue tie. The CGs are more like me. We’re taught to be courageous, confident, decisive, independent, intelligent. To be serious and reliable and strong and to keep our emotions in check. To be competitive and to win. Basically the opposite of all your Prissy Princess ABCs. Your program is going to be like an advanced kindergarten, while theirs is more like a military school.

“Of course, a Prissy Princess can’t start thinking those kind of Champion Girl ideas for himself and a ditzy Prissy Princess is easily influenced. So during their class times if myself or the two other CG volunteers aren’t there to tutor you privately, the teacher will give you a walkman so you can wear headphones and listen to sweet little girl songs and princess stories and special lectures I will record for you on how you are supposed to behave and act and think, all while you sit in the corner of the classroom and play with your dolls and coloring books.

“Neither class is seperated by age. Students advance through the program at their own paces. Some of the very youngest CGs may come and play dollies or pattycake with you, but they’ll quickly learn it makes them a bit of an outcast until they start playing more like the older girls do. Some of the older CGs may play with you, but only because they think of you like a little sister that needs entertaining. CGs have to be taught to coddle and protect Prissy Princesses, after all, if they are eventually going to marry one. During their gym classes the Prissy Princess class will learn to be cheerleaders for the CGs teams.” She swished his skirts like they were pom-poms and he squealed again.

“Even at home, our new home on the fenced in school grounds, what will it be like spending every second of free time either doing your chores, and you will have many and you will do them perfectly with a smile on your face the whole time, or playing with things like dolls, tea party sets, and Prissy Princess coloring books? Not being allowed to watch any shows or read any books if they are not appropriate for a traditional juvenile little girl?

“Just think of it, Shawna. Sleeping every night in a Prissy Princess nightgown in a Prissy Princess bed in a Prissy Princess room with a dolly clutched tightly in your arms as you dream your Prissy Princess dreams?

“What’s a boy to do to cope with all of that? I bet he has to find a happy safe place to go in his mind. I know what you’re thinking, Shawna. You think you could remember being a boy and have that be your happy safe place.

“But do you really think that after a year of this twenty four hours a day that you will ever have a single moment where you feel like a boy?” Cindy gently ran her fingers down the back of his dress, brushing the bare exposed portion of his back and he shivered.

Cindy laughed, “No, Princess. I told you, you’re going to forget what being a boy is like so that can’t be your happy place. I’ll tell you where you’ll find your happy place. You’re lucky to have a sister nice enough to clue you in so you can get there faster. Imagine a bright warm pink light, bursting with Prissy Princess energy. Inside you see a little Prissy Princess skipping along the sidewalk with a doll in his arms. The Prissy Princess boy is genuinely happy. He smiles and waves to everyone he sees. He’s warm and safe and happy. He’s sugar and spice and flowers and fun just like the perfect ideal image of a traditional feminine little girl. You need to take that pink warm light and put it inside you. Right in here.” Cindy rubbed her brothers stomach through the bodice if his dress and he felt the flutterings of nervous butterflies in his stomach once again.

“But in order to do that,” she continued, “You need to figure out why that Prissy Princess is so happy in that pink and warm and happy place. Do you know?”

Her brother whispered back, “No, Miss Cindy.”

“Then open your eyes,” She commanded in her normal voice.

Shawn opened his eyes and saw the reflection just as his mother affixed a silver tiara with sparkling clear and purple gemstones in his black hair which had been pulled tightly into a messy bun in the back lending it a very prissy appearance. The butterflies came in full force and he felt light headed. He wore pink lipstick but was otherwise lightly made up and wore clip on earrings with small purple gemstone flowers on them. His nails were painted a glittery white. He was acutely aware of the aroma of lavender perfume that surrounded him.

Without thought he demurely swished both hands down his skirt, curtsied, and then giggled and flapped his hands in excitement, “Oh Mummy, I’m so pretty in my fancy new frock!” He said feeling the warm pink glow in his stomach. The glow moved down his tights covered legs to the tips of his Mary Jane clad toes and it tingled up his spine. Pink fireworks went off in his mind before they were quickly replaced with a quiet pastel pink and purple glowing fog. The sensation lasted only a moment, but it rocked him to the core. It was just as his sister described. A warm and happy pink light all around him. He wasn’t a girl. He definitely wasn’t a boy. Just for that moment, he was a perfect Prissy Princess and he had absolutely loved it. In shock, Shawn suddenly remembered who he really was and turned away from all of it, trying to shake off the feeling and forget it completely.

He turned to his Sister and Mother and with tears in his eyes. “I had my eyes closed for so long that when I opened them and saw myself...I forgot I was a boy for a second.”

Cindy smiled. “And that’s your Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place, little sissy sis. Your PPHSP is what you are going to embrace, sooner or later. Maybe not today, but I promise you that you won’t last a year. One day, not so long from now, you won’t ever want to leave that place and you won’t, unless I make you,” she laughed. “That’s the beauty of it. Eventually, you are going to avoid ever even thinking about being a boy. I’m going to remind you just to torment you and drag you out of that happy place. In the end, the only way left you will have to resist me is to embrace total Prissy Princess femininity so much that even my taunting can’t drag you out of that warm pink light. You will do whatever it takes to stay in there. You will debase yourself in any way, betray your masculinity in any way, just for the promise of staying in that PPHSP forever.”

Shawn looked ready to collapse from exhaustion and humiliation so his mother led him to a seat on the center of the couch where she helped manage his skirts so he could sit down. His skirts were so wide they covered most of the couch. He held his doll Miss Priscilla in his lap and was instructed to quietly read at least one more chapter in the Prissy Princess Guidebook but then he would be allowed to rest.

When he was done reading, he closed his eyes again. This time he was trying to forcefully block out all the images his sister had put into his mind instead of imagining them.

“That was wonderful, Cindy, what an amazing start, we really might be able to do it in one day just like we planned, he’ll be the very first to make so much progress so quickly,” he could hear his Mother speaking as he drifted off from exhaustion. “Now, go get changed but no rush. The game isn’t for a few hours and the little princess could use the rest.”

“Okay, Mom. Can you believe he didn’t even see the camcorder? Start making copies so we can show the kids from his old school what he’s up to now! And a copy for the baseball team too!”

As Shawn continued to drift off things became indistinct, the last thing he heard was, “Should we tell him about what happened to his voice?”

“What about it?” Cindy replied.

His mother laughed and he heard a tape entering the VCR, “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Here, let me rewind…” Shawn fell asleep.

-

WOW! A PRISSY PRINCESS HAPPY SAFE PLACE JUST FOR YOU! IN YOUR PPHSP NO ONE WILL EVER BE MEAN TO YOU AND YOU WILL ALWAYS FEEL SO CUTE AND HAPPY AND KAWAII AND TWEE! DOESN'T THAT SOUND SO NICE? WHAT'S YOUR PPHSP LIKE? DO YOU HAVE DOLLS? AND KITTENS? AND FLOWERS? AND PRISSY PRINCESS DRESSES? AND PRISSY PRINCESS FRIENDS TO COLOR WITH AND PLAY DOLLIES AND CUDDLEBALL TOGETHER!?

Write about your PPHSP in your Prissy Princess workbook. What's it like? Have you had the privilege to participate in a game of Cuddleball yet with your Prissy Princess friends? Every Prissy Princess loves to play Cuddleball, can you describe how the game is played? In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what a Prissy Princess should look like at his most happiest. :)

Chapter 4: Prissy Princess Hugs and Kisses

It was a hot summer’s day. Shawn stood outside in his baseball uniform warming up with the guys before practice. He tossed the ball across to another boy and heard the smack of the ball hitting the glove. The other boy threw it back and Shawn smiled, strangely relaxed and content to be playing the simple game for some reason. He tossed the ball back and heard it hit the glove.

He looked up into the clouds and suddenly he heard his sister’s voice. “Wakey wakey, Prissy Princess.”

He opened his eyes and squinted around in confusion before realizing he was dreaming. Did he get hit in the head with a ball and pass out? He felt dizzy like the world had just been turned upside down and he was going to fall up to the ceiling . He was sitting on the couch in an absolute sea of purple taffeta and white lace with a doll resting on his lap. His fingers were covered in white nail polish. He felt a stinging pain on his bottom despite the strangely soft feel of his underwear.

When he looked up, his sister was standing there wearing a baseball uniform. His team’s baseball uniform. His glove, that he had been told was seized by police, was worn on her left hand and she idly threw his old ball into it over and over. Smack, Smack. Immediately he burst into tears as he remembered this wasn’t the dream. When he heard his sister giggling he immediately stopped himself from crying. He would fight her and run, he had to. She could see the new resolve on his face and laughed. She spread her arms wide and dropped the glove. “Come on, little sissy sis! Come give big sis a hug!”

Red faced, Shawn attempted to stand to charge her and force her to give him back his ball, glove, and bat which has been so cruelly stolen from him. When he stood the unexpected weight of the massive skirt surprised him and he plopped right back down.

“Awww, you don’t want to give your big sister a hug to celebrate her taking over your old spot on the baseball team? Don’t worry, Shawna, a Prissy Princess gets to play sports too! Well, sort of. You’re going to love your first game of Cuddleball!”

After almost half a minute of carefully twisting his skirts around him and trying to figure out how to stand without falling again he stood facing his sister with his hands balled up in fists. “Give them back!”

“The best part about Cuddleball is there are no winners or losers and everyone gets a trophy so no tender Prissy Princess feelings ever get hurt,” she giggled. “Now, come on, give me a big hug! It’s almost time for us to go so you can say goodbye to your old teammates!”

Shawn attempted to charge at her. Instead he took two and a half steps, tripped on his skirts, and landed directly in his sister’s arms. She lifted him up off the ground and hugged him tightly, crushing the breath out of him. He kicked his Mary Janes in a frustrated attempt to get in any sort of blow, but even off the ground his tangled up skirt trapped them. Cindy wouldn’t even know he was doing anything if not for the rustle of crinolines and taffeta his impotent kicks produced.

His sister dropped him to the ground. She gushed at him and pretended to have not even noticed he had been trying to fight her, “What a nice Prissy Princess hug! Thank you! It’s so sweet of you to be happy for me.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

He stood there, stewing in anger and humiliation.

Her voice turned more serious, “I know you used to like to play baseball, but Prissy Princesses don’t play baseball or any competitive games like that. Even your gymnastics and Prissy Princess pageants will just be for fun, not for competing. It’s Cuddleball and skipping ropes and hopscotch for you. And you were never very good at baseball anyway, everyone on the team said so when I went to practice with them after you left the team. I’ll bet I do better than you right away. But don’t feel bad, you’ll have your dollies to play with and you’re going to be the best at playing dollies!” She handed him back his matching doll, Miss Priscilla, from where he had left it on the couch.

Cindy and his mother walked to the door while he still stood still trembling in his tangled up skirts. His mother commanded, “Come along, Cupcake. It’s time to go to Cindy’s baseball game.”

Cindy added, “You’re going to be on your very very best Prissy Princess behavior, or you are going to get a very public spanking for whatever trouble you caused. Believe it.” She laughed, “Well maybe not today. I don’t even know if we could spank you in all those skirts. But we have a nice pink frilly party dress you could wear to my next game. It has stiff petticoats that stick right out so you’ll just barely be able to keep your frilly pink rhumba panties from being on display as long as you are very, very careful about it. But I’ll take you over my lap and then everyone will see them then. I’ll spank you until you cry right in the dugout in front of your old team.”

He stared down at the floor in shame and didn’t move. “One,” his mother counted. “Two…”

Shawn looked up like he was about to say something but quickly closed his mouth and stamped his foot in frustration. His mother stopped counting, “Do you have something to say, Little Miss Shawna? You better say it, but I remind you that you are on very thin ice, Cupcake. Two and a half.”

His voice trembled as he squeaked, “Mommy...I...I need help with my pretty princess dress first. The skirts are all tangled ever since I...went to hug Miss Cindy.”

Both women smiled as they helped fix up the skirt and freshen up his makeup.

“Now, Cupcake,” his mother said, “I know this is all very hard and new for you but so far you are doing very well. You’re an absolute natural at this. I knew you were a good fit for an advanced program just like your sister. Being a Prissy Princess isn’t always about being spanked for Prissy Princess Bad Behavior, it’s also about being rewarded for Prissy Princess Good Behavior.”

She handed him what looked like a piece of hard candy wrapped in a glittery pink wrapper with an X written on it in a slightly darker glittery pink. “What...what is it?” he asked.

“It’s a Prissy Princess Special Treat, give it a try,” his mother instructed, “You earned it, Cupcake.”

He unwrapped the candy and hesitatingly put it in his mouth. It had a strange cloyingly sweet artificial sugar taste and a richness like butter. It tasted of bubblegum and had a minor herbal aftertaste something like that of oregano.

His mother and sister led him to the car and assisted in arranging him in the back seat and somehow gathering his skirt up enough find a way to buckle the seatbelt. With the skirt dropped backed down he lost sight of the buckle and realized he would need assistance to be unbuckled as well. He felt entirely helpless and trapped. The whole tedious humiliating process of getting in and out of the car without dirtying or damaging the exquisite gown would have to be repeated when they got to the baseball field, in public. He was again lost in a sea of lavender taffeta and white lace and felt like he was almost drowning in it. Cindy handed him a pink notecard with her neat, businesslike handwriting on it. It was his short speech for the baseball team and several lines he was to loudly repeat when he played with his dollies instead of watching the game. She instructed him to memorize and rehearse all the lines. She told him to try to speak just like he had when he had first opened his eyes and reacted to the dress on instinct before, but he said it all happened so fast he couldn’t quite remember how he had spoken.

While they drove he started to feel strangely relaxed. Instead of feeling disgusted and disturbed by the presence of the sea of taffeta and lace he became oddly entranced by it. He rubbed the material of the taffeta skirt with his hand and got lost in appreciating it’s silky smoothness. His angst and fear were still forefront in his mind, but he felt another part of him screaming out in joy and comfort. He felt airheaded. He became giggly and wide eyed and felt like he could just fly away if he wanted. The world just seemed bright and happy, even the music playing on the car radio seemed to be speaking right to his soul. Was this what being a Prissy Princess was like? Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Concentrating on remembering his lines became more and more difficult, his thoughts seemed to just drift away on odd tangents, but he was relatively confident he had them memorized. The car ride wasn’t very long, but it felt like hours to him, he had completely lost track of time.

“I’m thirsty, Mommy,” he squeaked. “Can I have something to drink? I’ll need a drink before I...before I say ‘Hi,’ to the team.”

“I’ll help you have some water when we get there, Cupcake, we can’t risk you spilling any on the dress. It has to be perfect,” his mother replied.

“Okay, Mommy.”

Shawn made no complaints as he was helped out of the car. He kept a smile on his face as ordered. He held his skirts up in front with both hands to protect them from the grass while his mother held up the lace trail behind him. He burned with humiliation as he saw his sister following him with the camcorder. He took tiny little mincing steps towards his old friends on the baseball team. He could hear someone behind him ask, “Is the flower girl lost? The wedding is down the street,” but he paid it no mind and focused solely on the sight in front of him. His sister advised him to get it over with quickly, or it would only be worse. Shawn figured she was right. But it’s hard to do that when you first have to take tiny mincing steps all the way from the parking lot to the dugout in totally inappropriate shoes and a dress so totally impractical it requires two people to manage it.

They made it to the spot, he stood directly in front of his old team in a Prissy Princess dress. Everyone in the dugout and everyone at the game was watching. His mother and sister fussed with his skirts until they were perfect and Cindy ran over to the dugout and high fived a few of the players before dropping her, formally his, bat and glove and continued to film his humiliating moment.

Shawn panicked and looked behind him cringing in fear and embarrassment. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He felt the butterflies in his stomach, calling him back to his Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. It made him queasy and his smile dropped for just a second and pushed down the urge to give in. The butterflies went away, but still he had no choice but to do as he was told.

He dipped a curtsy to his team and enthusiastically announced, “Hi, everybody! Some of you used to know me as Shawn, a boy who played baseball with you. I got in a lot of trouble and was very mean to my best friends, Karen and Diane. I’m very, very sorry about that so now my name is Little Miss Shawna, and I’m a Prissy Princess!” He then theatrically flapped his hands and excitedly waved to the team while they laughed in response. He pouted, “I didn’t like playing baseball anyway! I found something much more fun for a Prissy Princess to do!”

His mother handed him the doll with the matching dress, “I love playing with dolls so much! This is my absolute favorite, Miss Priscilla! Say ‘Hi!’ to Miss Priscilla everybody!” Instead the boys simply laughed and sneered at him. “Does anybody else want to quit the team too and come play dollies with me? It’s sooo fun!”

“The boys don’t want to play dollies with you, Cupcake, they have a baseball game to go play with your sister. They can’t just go without finding a replacement first like you did. But I bet it won’t be long before at least a few realize how right you are,” his mother announced loudly for everyone to hear.

The boys laughed and and he could hear mutters of, “No way, lady,” or “Over my dead body.”

“Let’s go and set up your tea set over there in the shade, a Prissy Princess needs to stay out of the hot sun.”

“Yes, Mommy!” he squeaked.

“He’s always been such a sissy! I don’t know how you put up with him, guys. He threw a huge temper tantrum this morning to demand he get to wear that dress here. Wait until you see the video!” his sister shouted to his laughing former teammates.

-

PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL TREATS ARE SWEET AND TASTY BUT LOW IN SUGAR TO HELP KEEP YOU PRISSY PRINCESS SLIM AND WAIFISH! BUT THE REAL TREAT IS THE FEELING OF ACCOMPLISHMENT YOU GET FROM PLEASING YOUR GUARDIAN! DOESN’T IT MAKE YOU FEEL SO HAPPY AND JOVIAL AND DITZY? REMEMBER...PRISSY PRINCESS GOOD BEHAVIOR, PRISSY PRINCESS TREATS FOR LATER!

Write some examples of Prissy Princess Good Behavior in your Prissy Princess workbook. Remember, good behavior is more than just doing as you’re told. A well behaved Prissy Princess goes above and beyond and does it happily without whining or complaints. A well behaved Prissy Princess shouldn’t need to be told what to do and he is moral and upright at all times. In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what you looked like during your most well behaved Prissy Princess moment. :)

Chapter 5: Prissy Princess Tea and Cake

Shawn’s past contributions to the team were quickly and easily forgotten by the rest of the players as Cindy hit a home run the first time she was up. She was destined to became their star player.

Shawn would only hear about the home run later. During the game he was forced to sit on a purple and white soft cotton picnic blanket with a lace trim, looking away from the baseball field while having a tea party with his dollies under the watchful supervision of his mother. He made quite the picture.

He sat in the center of the blanket with the purple and white lace skirt of his fabulous dress surrounding him in a perfect three hundred and sixty degree circle that covered nearly the entire blanket. He could just barely see the toes of his white Mary Janes peeking out from under the skirt as he sat with his legs apart and straight. Having no other choice, he set up his tea party directly on the skirt of his dress from a basket his mother set down next to him. First he set a little wooden white play table over his lap. He set two dolls across the table from him and kept Miss Priscilla close at hand as instructed he must always do. He added a small white tablecloth with a delicate lace trim as well. He set up a miniature tea pot and four tea cups with saucers. He set up four plates, and a serving tray. The tea set was antique delicate white porcelain with a whimsical purple flower print, not cheap plastic. He reached into the basket and pulled out a small white box that looked like it was from a fancy bakery. He opened it up and gasped at what he saw.

“Careful now, you don’t want to get any crumbs or frosting on your pretty princess dress,” his mother instructed. “In fact, you should just pretend to eat it for now. Consider it decorative.”

As careful as could be Shawn set the item down on the serving tray. The item was a was a fancy gourmet cupcake covered in purple frosting designed to look like a flower in a white lace cupcake liner. In the center was a single white candle covered in glitter. He realized why his mother had called had been calling him Cupcake all day. The white lace liner was the white lace designs on the hem and trail of his dress and the purple frosting was his purple taffeta skirt. The white candle was the rhinestone studded silky sleeveless bodice. When the candle was lit, it would shimmer like a sparkling tiara. This was what he was going to be now, a sweet fluffy cute little cupcake.

“It’s your first Prissy Princess birthday party, Little Miss Shawna! And since you don’t have any Prissy Princess friends, yet, the exclusive list of invited guests is you and your dollies.”

He was figuratively dying of shame. After everything he had just publicly done everyone he knew would see him only as a Prissy Princess to laugh at and mock or at best pity or ignore from now on. His mother had set up a tripod with the camcorder he now fully realized was making a permanent record of his first humiliating day and pointed the camera down at him.

He was instructed to proceed with his party. He was told to focus on it entirely and to ignore the baseball game and anyone who came up to talk unless directly prompted by his mother. His mother would speak for him otherwise. She told anyone who was curious that he was her son, who had become a juvenile delinquent but had willingly and enthusiastically agreed to an experimental diversion program instead of the traditional correctional system. She handed out pamphlets for both of her programs for any interested parents. There weren’t many takers, with the program being so radical, but some mothers did raise eyebrows in interest when they saw little Shawn the delinquent boy seemingly happy to publicly play tea party with his dolls in an outrageously adorable little girl gown as an advertisement for the program. Mothers with troublesome sons saw a way to keep them safe and in control, and mothers with daughters realized that maybe Shawn’s mother was right that feminine behavior in girls was just a product of societal pressure and not natural. If a troublesome boy could so easily adapt to behaving like the most girly girl sort of princess obsessed little girl, then maybe girls really were just being pressured to do so. His mother also pointed out his sister could be found behind them on the baseball field proving that girls can adapt to a boy’s role just as easily as Shawn adapted to a girl’s role.

If challenged on the ethics of forcing a boy to behave like that, she simply prompted Shawn to give his opinion, which had been given to him ahead of time on one of the note cards he was forced to memorize earlier in the car. “I was a very bad boy and I’d much rather be in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club than in juvenile hall! I mean look at me! I don’t belong there!” He stopped to giggle as they took in the sight of him. “I’m so lucky my Mommy volunteered me for this program instead! I get to wear fabulous dresses and have fun with dollies. It’s not even really a punishment if you ask me! If I just work real hard to be the best Prissy Princess I can be, I’ll be moral and upright and never be in trouble with the law again.”

And then he would immediately focus back on his tea party. He would say the lines he had been forced to memorize and then had to improvise from there. Despite the humiliation, it was fairly easy for him to get lost in the tea party. He had always been the imaginative, dreamy type and imagination was what playing with dolls was all about.

“The tea is lovely, Little Miss Shawna!” he squealed holding one of his dolls as if it was speaking to him.

“Thank you, Emily!” he replied. “Would you like some more cake, Miss Priscilla?”

He held up the doll as if it was speaking to him, and used a slightly different voice for her than he did Emily, as his mother instructed. “Oh yes! Little Miss Shawna, the cake is scrumptious!”

He carefully pantomimed cutting a slice of the cupcake, putting it on Miss Priscilla’s plate, and delicately setting down the plate in front of Miss Priscilla before picking her up again. “Thank you, Little Miss Shawna!”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Priscilla.” He turned to his third doll. “Jenny, would you like some more cake as well?”

In yet a third voice for his third doll he replied as he picked her up, “No thank you, Little Miss Shawna, I’m full. Perhaps another cup of tea?” He put the doll down and pantomimed pouring her the imaginary tea and picked her up again. “Delightful, thank you, Little Miss Shawna!” He put her down.

“Oh, you’re welcome, Jenny!”

And he went on and on like this, getting a dirty look from his mother any time he stopped babbling or pantomiming for too long. Everything else vanished aside from what was going on within the borders of the tea party playing out on the skirts of his dress. His entire world was his little purple and white patch where his bare arms darted this way and that among the dolls and play tea set. He was only vaguely aware of the green grass surrounding him. Anything beyond the border of his blanket was off limits to him because it might endanger his dress. He heard the sounds of the baseball game vaguely behind him but having to focus on his own little tea party game made it impossible to pay any attention to it. It was no concern of his at the moment.

He still felt the fuzzy and happy and ditzy feelings he had started to feel in the car, despite himself. He felt like a harmless little purple and white flower rooted into the ground here in his own perfect little spot in the shade of the nearby tree. A pretty little distraction for people to admire and enjoy. Maybe that’s exactly what he wanted to be. He felt the butterflies and warm pink glow in his stomach starting to rise again, he could feel the happy skipping little princess inside him and for a moment the feelings overwhelmed him. “What a fab day for a cuppa in the park in my prettiest frock!” he squealed loudly with his hands flapping in delight.

Then, all of a sudden a soccer ball flew over his little flower patch and settled by the tree. The warm pink glow faded away. It seemed like a lone cloud had drifted into the sun and momentarily darkened the day. He suddenly felt a chill and when he looked down at his arms they were covered in goosebumps.

“What’s all this then?” a voice behind him on the right asked.

“Is he mocking us?” an identical voice behind him on the left asked.

“His best mates? Don’t be daft,” the voice on the right replied.

“But he was so mean to us at school,” the voice on the left pointed out.

“He didn’t mean it, clearly. Look at him now,” the voice on the right replied.

Shawn froze, paralyzed in fear. He was forced to sit daintily in his pretty prissy dress in impotent, totally emasculated fear with tears forming in his eyes. He felt like a complete sissy. A little girl Prissy Princess who needed his Mommy. That was who he was becoming now, there was no doubt. This day had shocked him to the core, just as intended, and he had already begun to change.

“Mommy!” he cried out of desperation but he looked over and she was gone, walking towards the baseball field.

He heard identical giggling in stereo behind him. “Oh help me, Mummy!” they both replied mockingly together.

“The Twin Tormentors made me wet my nappy, Mummy!” the voice on the left said.

“Your mummy told us to watch you, Shawny,” the one on the right said as she came to stand in front of him, forcing him to look up at her. She was wearing a soccer uniform and was clearly here to play a match on the soccer field located next to the baseball diamond.

The one on the left, wearing an identical uniform of course, looked down and addressed him, “It’s Little Miss Shawna, now, innit love?”

Shawn just looked up at The Twin Tormentors in horror. His fight or flight reaction kicked in. He couldn’t believe he had to face them again, this time in a little girl dress in the middle of a tea party with his dollies. He couldn’t even successfully stand up to them as a boy, much less as a Prissy Princess. He willed himself to stand up and run, but in panic he realized that one of the reasons he had felt so rooted to the spot was that his legs had fallen asleep from being forced to sit entirely still with the entire affair, tea set and dollies, set up on his lap and on top of his skirt. Even if he could run, he knew they could grab him before he could get very far without anyone to help him manage the dress. And if he got up quickly without putting the tea set away he would risk breaking the delicate tea set and spilling the cupcake all over his dress, he would get a spanking for sure.

He was stuck and utterly helpless before them and he knew it, there was nothing else to do but be a good little Prissy Princess and hope his mother returned soon. Shawn looked to the one on the left, “Yes, Diane, I’m Little Miss Shawna. I’m a Prissy Princess now,” he said in absolute humiliation.

Diane, the one on the left, smiled as she raised her shirt revealing the birthmark. “You’re not just going by, ‘The Dolly Destroyer?’ I quite liked that one,” she giggled.

Karen, the one on the right took over, “Pretty dolls, Shawny. I guess we know who's really obsessed with dolls now. What was that you told us? ‘Grow up! Nobody wants to play with a prissy baby like you!’ I guess we know who the real prissy baby is now, don’t we?”

“I’m not a baby!” Shawn whined, unable to deny anything else in the current circumstance.

Diane laughed, “I bet you’re a Prissy Princess Pottypants. Is your nappy wet, Baby Miss Shawna?”

“I’m not wearing diapers, Diane!” He fumed, “I’m wearing my sister’s….” They both giggled at his deeply blushing face as he trailed off.

Karen’s mouth dropped in mock shock, “You mean you traded your baseball things to your sister for her cute little knickers?”

Diane continued, “But you had a deal for a trade with us, remember, Dolly Destroyer? Don’t worry though.”

Karen added, “You’ll make it up to us.”

“So were you mocking your two best mates, Little Miss Shawna? That doesn’t sound like something a proper Prissy Princess would do,” Diane asked.

“I...don’t know what you mean?” Shawn asked in confusion feeling the mockery in this situation had been flowing only in one direction.

“Is he playing dumb?” Karen asked Diane.

“I don’t think so,” Diane laughed.

Shawn fumed at being talked about like he wasn’t even there but knew he was powerless to do anything about it. “What are you talking about?”

“Your voice, what you said when we were walking up,” Diane looked down at him and replied.

“What about it?” Shawn asked in confusion.

Both girls laughed before repeating together, “What a fab day for a cuppa!”

Shawn’s eyes opened wide in shock, suddenly realizing what they meant when he heard it in their voices. And then thinking back he realized the same thing had happened before in front of the mirror. When he started to fall into the Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place, his high pitched Prissy Princess voice had a slight but unmistakable hint of a British accent. The Prissy Princess personality growing inside of him imitated the vocabulary and accent of The Twin Tormentors.

“I...I wasn’t making fun of you. Really. I didn’t even know I was doing it,” he blushed. “And I’m sorry about destroying your grandmother’s doll. Really. I shouldn’t have done that.” Instinctively, he held Miss Priscilla more tightly in his arm, almost protectively.

“He didn’t know?” Karen asked her sister.

“How could he not know?” Diane asked her sister.

“Bollocks,” she replied.

He heard someone else approaching and now his mother and sister stood towering over him as well.

“I have a theory,” his sister said.

“Of course you do,” Shawn thought, but he didn’t dare give her sass out loud.

With a grin on her face she continued, “It’s no different than why he can tell you apart. Because he was so obsessed with thinking about you and how afraid he is of you, his subconscious mind is paying a heightened amount of attention to every little detail of you behavior. Even your voices.

“He has a huge amount of anxiety about being like a girl himself because he hung out with you two most of the time and all the boys made fun of him for it. He spent every day with both of you chattering away in each of his ears. So now that he has to imitate a girl in every possible way, well, to his subsconscious you two are the quintessential example of a girly-girl so it’s using you as a template. We’ll help him practice speaking that way all the time at school, if you agree it’s a good idea.”

The Twin Tormentors both smiled and nodded as Karen replied on their behalf, “Oh of course, we think it’s absolutely adorable that The Dolly Destroyer wants to sound like a Twin Tormentor.”

“We’ll have him sounding just like us in no time!” Diane added.

Shawn’s eyes widened in horror once again. His sister pointed to the twin girls, “Meet the two newest students in the CGPC, Little Miss Shawna. They’ve volunteered to by my two assistants for your lessons. They aren’t going to be the girly-girls anymore, that’s going to be your role.”

Shawn screamed silently inside and tears started to glisten in his eyes, but with the four females, three in athletic uniforms and none in a dress, towering over him as he sat stuck in his luxurious little girl ball gown surrounded by dolls, he had no choice but to reply, “Oh Goody! I’m so Prissy Princess happy I still get to see my two best fri...mates every single day at school!”

He blushed furiously as they all continued to look down on him, their faces painted with amusement and satisfaction.

"Is our little volunteer ready?" he heard an older woman ask in an accent similar to that of the twins.

"Yes, Nana!" Diane replied. "This is our best mate, Nana, Little Miss Shawna," Diane introduced him.

"The Dolly Destroyer," Karen added with a giggle.

The woman, the twin’s grandmother, Shawn realized, joined the rest in looking down on him, "No time to dawdle, girl, put your tea set and dollies away, it's time to go get ready. You missed the rehearsal after all.”

“What’s going on?” Shawn asked as a he carefully started to put the dainty porcelain tea set back in the basket.

“Our Aunt Janet is getting married,” Karen replied.

“And she needs a flower girl,” Diane continued.

“She was going to ask us but we’re in the championship match today,” Karen said.

Diane continued, “But we told her that our best mate, Shawny, would absolutely love to get to do it himself.”

“To show how sorry he was for being so very mean to us,” Karen added.

“And damaging a family heirloom,” the twin’s grandmother concluded.

They all looked down on him expectantly. He had no choice. In abject humiliation and defeat he squealed with delight, “Oh yes! That’s exactly what I want! I’m so sorry I broke your doll! Please let me make it up to you, pretty please?”

When he finished returning his tea set and dolls to the basket, the twins each took a hold of one of his arms and pulled him to his feet. He clung to their arms desperately for support with his legs still numb. His mother and sister fussed with his skirt. A professional photographer took a picture of Shawn in his Prissy Princess gown arm in arm with The Twin Tormentors.

“Come along now, girl,” the twin’s grandmother stated firmly.

The twins left to warm up for their soccer game. There was no doubt that Shawn was the girl being commanded to follow.

His sister handed him Miss Priscilla. “What do we say to Nana, Little Miss Shawna?”

“Yes...Nana,” he squealed.

With his Mother helping him handle his skirt he followed the twin’s grandmother to a limousine. After helping Shawn into the car his mother and sister remained behind to watch the twins play, all promising to meet up with him later at the reception.

-

BADLY BEHAVED PRISSY PRINCESSES WHO HABITUALLY BREAK THE RULES OR CAN’T PASS THEIR PRISSY PRINCESS TRIAL PERIOD BECOME PRISSY PRINCESS POTTYPANTS. A PRISSY PRINCESS BABY MISS LOSES THEIR PRISSY PRINCESS PRIVILEGES AND PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL TREATS.

Have you ever been a Prissy Princess Pottypants? Don’t be ashamed, all but the very best most natural Prissy Princesses spend at least a little time as a Prissy Princess Baby Miss, especially during their Prissy Princess Trial Period when they are still adjusting. If you have, write in your Prissy Princess workbook about your Prissy Princess Bad Behavior and how wrong it was. Write about how it felt to wear diapers again. Write about what it was like wearing your other special Prissy Princess Pottypants attire. How did it feel not being able to walk in your specially designed Prissy Princess Pottypants booties? Or talk with your special Prissy Princess Pottypants pacifier? Or use your hands in your Prissy Princess Pottypants gloves? Or to have everyone see your diapers because of your very short Prissy Princess Pottypants dresses? Were you jealous of your Little Miss Prissy Princess friends? How long were you a Prissy Princess Pottypants? Were you embarrassed when you did your Prissy Princess Potty Training at the end? Were you a very sorry Baby Miss? Draw a picture of what a very sorry and genuinely repentant Prissy Princess Pottypants should look like in your Prissy Princess art book. :)

Chapter 6: Prissy Princess Comb and Brush

The ride was a short one, the wedding was being held outdoors in another section of the park where several tents were set up. But with how slowly Shawn walked with his mincing little steps and the need to protect the dress it made more sense to drive the short trip. When it was time to get out of the limousine Shawn felt frozen to the spot. He was terrified of having to be a flower girl, the epitome of prissy little girlhood, in front of a crowd of strangers. He had been through so much already that day and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

The twin’s grandmother told the driver to give them a few minutes for him to settle down. Seeing Shawn shake with nervousness with a tear glistening in his eye Shawn’s new honorary grandmother put her arm around his waist and held him close to her like he was her own little daughter.

“Don’t worry, girl. You’re going to do fine. Everyone will love you and think you’re adorable and very brave.”

“No they won’t. They’ll think I’m a weird stupid little sissy boy and make fun of me,” he sobbed.

The old woman gave him a few moments to compose himself and then told him, “Nobody is going to make fun of you. I’ve told everyone who you are and that you are to be treated with complete respect, like a member of the family. You have nothing to be afraid of, girl.”

Shawn eventually stopped his crying and gazed out the window as he watched the people arriving for the wedding before turning back to her, “Nana?” Shawn asked.

“Yes, girl?”

“Excuse me, Nana, but I’m not a girl. I’m a Prissy Princess. The Prissy Princess Guidebook says I should politely correct people if they call me a girl. It says that I’m like a very feminine traditional girl but not a girl. A Prissy Princess is something else. Prissy Princess Polite Correctness means that the words people use to refer to me matter very much. There’s a whole chapter on PPPC, I haven’t read it all yet. But it’s very clear.”

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment remembering reading this information in the Prissy Princess Guidebook earlier with a stinging bottom while sitting on a sandpaper seat. “I could get a spanking if you keep calling me a girl. It’s Prissy Princess Bad Behavior if I let people call me a girl.”

“The Prissy Princess Guidebook says,” the old woman rolled her eyes and haughtily harrumphed. “In my day, we just called petticoated boys like you girls. Call them princesses and they’ll start to forget they’re being punished. I don’t need a guidebook to tell me how to discipline a naughty little girl like you,” she paused for a short laugh, “Even if the twins did turn out to be a pair of troublemakers. They wouldn’t be turning into such tomboys if I had my way either. But I guess times are changing. Petticoated boys as flower girls while the tomboys are out playing footy, what a world.”

Shawn looked up at her in surprise. It was the first time he had ever heard anyone acknowledge that the twins caused trouble. Nobody else seemed to be able to see through their innocent facade. He instantly felt a connection with the old woman based on that shared understanding alone, even if she was showing no intention of changing his current circumstances. He was suddenly overcome with shame for what he had done to her antique doll. Shawn frowned and in a quiet genuine voice said, “I’m sorry I destroyed your doll, Nana. I know how precious and valuable it was. I was very upset and I wasn’t thinking straight. But that’s no excuse for what I did."

Remembering the twin's family history presentation from the day he destroyed the doll he continued, "You went through so much more than I did, more than I can ever imagine, having bombs dropping on your city and having to run away to the countryside. Having your older brother die in the war. I’m very sorry,” he looked down in shame.

The woman laughed and held him tighter, proud of the empathy displayed in his genuine apology, “Well it’s a cute nickname, ‘The Dolly Destroyer,’ but don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic? The restoration turned out great, didn’t it?”

Shawn looked confused for a moment as the twin’s grandmother was pointing at the doll he held in his lap. Then he realized, they must have dyed the hair and painted the eyes to match him, or else replaced the head entirely. Miss Priscilla, the doll he would be forced to carry nearly everywhere, was the hated doll The Twin Tormentors had provoked him to reject in front of the entire class. The doll that had put him in this horrible situation in the first place.

“Yes, Nana. Thank you, Nana. I’ll take very good care of her.”

“Good girl.” She reached into her purse and handed Shawn a gift wrapped in the same glittery pink wrapping paper Miss Priscilla had come in and looked at him expectantly.

He opened the gift and inside there was a small lavender colored purse trimmed in white lace, a perfect match for his Prissy Princess dream dress.

“Thank you, Nana,” he dutifully replied.

“Open it,” she said.

He took the purse in his hands and opened it by the golden cupcake shaped clasp. He reached inside to pull out the contents and gasped in genuine admiration. From the purse he had retrieved a small ivory comb and brush.

“I’ve had these for as long as I’ve had Miss Priscilla, but they’re even older than that. They were given to me by my Nana and now I’m giving them to you. You have to comb and brush Miss Priscilla’s hair every single day to keep it nice and neat and untangled for her so she can look her prettiest. Will you do that?”

“Yes, Nana,” Shawn said. He looked down at the beautifully intricate carvings of flowers and butterflies on the ivory comb and brush and admired the exquisite handmade craftsmanship of the antiques. They looked like something that belonged in a history museum. He started to gently brush Miss Priscilla’s hair and his nervousness started to fade into a feeling of calmness. A thought occurred to him, “Nana, was my tea set yours too?”

She smiled at him, “Oh yes. My father brought it back for me after the war. He claimed he took it from an abandoned German castle and it had once belonged to a Bavarian princess. I think he just made up that poppycock to entertain me. But you can believe whatever you want, girl.”

“Thank you, Nana. You’re very kind.” Shawn was feeling heavy with conflicted feelings. The old woman was showering him with very valuable, unique, and heartfelt gifts, but all were suitable for a delicate little girl. These things by all rights should have gone to the twins, but it seemed like their grandmother had realized they were moving away from being the sort of girly-girls who would appreciate gifts of that sort. The old woman was treating Shawn, their very best friend and so called “triplet,” as the next logical choice to keep up her legacy.

“Nana, can you tell me more about what it was like when you were little? During the war?” Shawn asked in genuine interest.

She gently patted him on the knee. “No time for that. You have a job to do, remember? We have to get going. But how about this, next Sunday you and I and Miss Priscilla will get all dressed up nice and pretty and go out for a fancy tea together with the ladies. After that we’ll go to town and shop for a pretty new frock for you. Then, we’ll go to the toy store and get you more clothes for your dolls. I want to show you my appreciation for volunteering as flower girl, you really saved the day. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk. Would you like that, girl?”

Shawn nodded, “Yes, Nana.” Regardless of his conflicted feelings about the gifts and his future as a Prissy Princess, he felt an obligation to be nice to this woman because of what he had done to her antique doll and because of how she had seemingly forgiven him and decided to treat him like a member of her own family. He stopped brushing Miss Priscilla’s hair and carefully laid the brush down beside the comb on his skirt and shifted himself even closer to her and looked up at her. The two held hands. “Please stop calling me ‘Girl,’ Nana. It’s Little Miss Shawna, Nana. I’m a Prissy Princess.”

She hugged him and laughed. “Okay, if it means that much to you, a princess it is then. Are you ready, Little Miss Shawna?”

He nodded and smiled at her. “Yes, Nana. I’m ready.”

His Nana helped Shawn out of the limo and helped him manage his skirts with assistance from the considerate chauffeur who smiled and complimented him on his pretty dress, treating him like any other flower girl. His Nana led him to a large tent being set up for the outdoor reception. It was empty aside from workers setting up the tables and decorations. In the center there was a dance floor set up. His new Nana from his newly adopted second family explained his role as flower girl and had him practice on the dance floor. She became extremely frustrated when it became clear he was utterly incapable of walking in the dress without help. “You’re not getting any help during the ceremony, Princess, you have to do it all by yourself. You better learn to do it right.”

He took smaller and smaller mincing little steps around the dance floor but still couldn’t quite manage not to trip on his skirts. “I’m trying Nana but it’s hard,” he whined, “It’s my first day in skirts,” he pouted.

His new Nana put her hands on his waist and lifted him up on to his tip toes from behind. “Try it like this,” she told him.

He started to mince around the room taking as tiny dainty little steps as he could nearly on his tip toes and to his amazement he was now moving around on the dance floor much more gracefully without tripping on his own skirts. His Nana then drilled him on how to manage the lace trail of the dress without help and how to sit and stand up in the dress and how to curtsy properly. All of this he quickly picked up now that he had mastered the basics of moving in the dress.

Proceeding a particularly proper Prissy Princess curtsy she beamed at him and announced, “You’re a natural. Are you sure this is your first time in skirts?” She tickled his stomach over the white bodice of his dress and asked impishly, “Your first time wearing your sister’s knickers?”

He blushed as he giggled from the tickling. It was the sort of compliment any boy would be embarrassed by even if he was starting to come to terms with the requirements of his new Prissy Princess identity, “Yes, Nana. It’s my first time ever.”

“What a shame,” she replied, “They absolutely suit you perfectly, Princess. You should have been in skirts years ago.”

“Yes, Nana,” he submissively replied.

He was handed a white basket full of purple and white flowers. He carried Miss Priscilla, his copy of the Prissy Princess Guidebook, and his new little purse in the basket as well. He was introduced to everyone in the wedding party as Little Miss Shawna, an extremely dear friend of the family who was filling in for the twins as flower girl. The bridesmaids and the bride, the twin’s Aunt Janet, absolutely went mad at the sight of him.

They surrounded him and hugged him and kissed him and fussed with his spectacular dress and he could barely keep track of who was speaking, but he was used to being surrounded by chattering overbearing girls with British accents so he endured the situation with practiced patience.

“Oh. My. God. He’s adorable!”

“He’s beautiful!”

“I’ve never seen such a fancy frock for a flower girl!”

“So cute!”

“He’s twee to the max!”

“He looks so nice! He’s perfect!”

“What an image! He’s darling! He’s like a little dolly!”

“He’s a little angel!”

“He’s a little cupcake!”

“He’s a PRISSY PRINCESS!” They all squealed with delight.

And then his Nana told him it was time. He took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

-

AT THE CONCLUSION OF THEIR PRISSY PRINCESS TRIAL PERIOD, EVERY PRISSY PRINCESS ANNOUNCES HIS OWN PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL UNIQUE TITLE AT HIS PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL CEREMONY FULL OF FANCY POMP! BUT THAT’S NOT ALL! EVERY PRISSY PRINCESS IS PRIVILEGED TO RECEIVE A SPECIAL UNIQUE PRISSY PRINCESS TIARA AND SCEPTRE TO CONFIRM HIS REGAL PRISSY PRINCESS STATUS!

In your Prissy Princess workbook, write about what it will take to pass your Prissy Princess Trial Period. What ways have you come up with to publicly renounce your masculinity and make amends to those you wronged? In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what your own special unique Prissy Princess tiara and sceptre will look like. Have you decided what your Prissy Princess title will be? If so, make sure your drawing matches it. If not, try and draw several different tiaras and sceptres and see if they give you the inspiration you need. Who will you be? The Prissy Princess of Purple Posy Petticoats? Angelic White Snowcones? Loyal Lime Pie? You had better choose soon, with enough Prissy Princess Good Behavior your Prissy Princess Special Ceremony could come sooner than you think. :)

Chapter 7: Prissy Princess Proclamation

Shawn still couldn’t believe the role he was now forced to play. A day ago he had been an outcast but fairly average boy. Today he was wearing his sister’s little girly underwear, carrying a doll given to him by The Twin Tormentors, and forced to dress and act as the perfect Prissy Princess flower girl. He felt the butterflies in his stomach and felt the warm pink light. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if he just forgot about being a boy? He thought about that Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place, that seed of an idea his sister had planted in his mind.

“It’s time, Princess, didn’t you hear me?” his Nana asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

He heard the music that was his cue to start walking down the aisle. No matter how nice his Nana and the members of the wedding party had been, no matter how much humiliation he had been through already that day, he knew he was at his limit. What remained of his male ego could not allow him to go through with this.

There was no way out of it though. There was only one thing he could do to force himself to go through with it. He started to whisper to himself very quietly, “Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.”

“Shawna, are you okay?” His Nana asked again.

He closed his eyes and kept whispering while trying with all his might to forget he had ever been a boy. Trying desperately to forget there was anything strange or out of the ordinary about his effeminate behavior, “Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place!”

“Shawna!” his Nana said more forcefully.

He opened his eyes as he felt the warm pink light envelop him entirely. He let the butterflies in his stomach fly free. He felt a tingling sensation of perfect happiness in every part of his body. “I feel fab, Nana! I’m so excited for everyone to see me in my pretty flower girl frock! I just wish Mummy was here to see me!”

He minced down the aisle. He sighed with delight, enjoying the warm sunshine and all the pomp of the wedding ceremony with everyone dressed up so nice, especially him in his incredible prissy dress. He smiled at everyone he saw. He reached into the basket and spread flowers in front of him as he took his mincing little steps.

Halfway down the aisle, he found himself gracefully skipping forward instead, his skirts proving no hindrance whatsoever. He heard laughter at this but in his Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place he heard it as laughing with him rather than at him and he giggled at how silly he was right along with them. He tossed more petals and smiled and waved happily at everyone he saw and swished his skirts this way and that as he pranced forward. People continued to giggle at his girlish exuberance for the role. When he came to his seat in the front row, he turned and executed a perfect curtsy to all the wedding guests and received scattered applause in response. He smiled and waved to the crowd one more time before he daintily took his seat with his basket held in his lap. He was still lost in the happy pink fog when he looked down into the bottom of his white basket, now empty of flower petals, and saw a pink envelope with “Little Miss Shawna” printed on it in his sister’s precise business like handwriting. Beside the envelope was another Prissy Princess Special Treat as well.

“A letter from big sis! I’m so happy she gave me her pretty knickers and let me be a Prissy Princess! This is the best day ever!” he thought.

He opened the envelope and immediately came crashing out of his Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place when he saw what was inside. It was a picture of him in his baseball uniform. Fighting back tears he stuffed the picture back in the envelope and returned it to the basket.

The ring bearer beside him, a cousin of the twins, looked over at him in concern. He had been inching away from the insanely girly-girl boy ever since he sat down, outwardly polite as he had been instructed but unable to hide his discomfort with the other boy’s outrageously sissy behavior and image. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Shawn nodded and kept trying not to cry. He picked up the Prissy Princess Special Treat and ate it to distract him from what he was feeling. He savored the strange artificially sweet candy with its rich, herbal, bubblegum taste.

He took Miss Priscilla from the basket and held her particularly tightly. He couldn’t get his mind off the stark reminder of how far he had fallen in just one day. He stewed and seethed in humiliation at what he had been forced to do. But the butterflies wouldn’t quite leave his stomach and the pink glow wouldn’t quite fade away. They remained there on the edge of his awareness. Something had changed in him when he willingly and deliberately embraced the Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place and only left it because the picture had made him confront reality. A real boy would never completely abandon his masculinity like that on purpose. He suddenly felt more emasculated than he had all day and he couldn’t shake the feeling.

A part of him had changed forever. He knew it. Even if he was to wake up the next day to hear his mother explain that he wasn’t really expected to carry on as a Prissy Princess, that it was just one day to scare him straight, he knew there would always be a Prissy Princess part of him. No matter how much he tried to behave like a real man, he would always feel a little like he was wearing his sister's panties. He would always feel a little like he was surrounded by purple taffeta skirts. He would always feel a little like he needed a pretty dolly to comfort him. But he knew deep down that his mother would not be doing anything of the sort. He was a Prissy Princess now and forever unless he finally found the will to fight and run away. He had to. It was his only choice.

Those were the thoughts that ran through the humiliated and emasculated boy’s mind for the rest of the wedding ceremony. He smiled and followed his Nana’s instructions after the wedding as he posed for picture after picture, the jovial smile locked on his face despite his true feelings. As he held his Nana’s hand while she led him back to the reception tent though, his feelings betrayed him again. Just like in the car earlier, he started to feel a strange euphoria overcome him. He felt lightheaded and happy despite having no way to explain why he was feeling that way. He was again entranced by the silky smoothness of his clothing. His mind drifted from total vacancy for minutes at a time to deep thinking about meaningless details of the day. He started to lose track of time and felt odd and slightly confused.

He was suddenly ravenously hungry, having eaten nothing all day besides the two sugar free Prissy Princess Special Treats. When his meal came he saw that he had received a vegetarian meal. All he had to eat was a small salad and a zestily spiced sautéed tofu dish with a spring vegetable risotto on the side. Under Nana’s close supervision and instruction he ate extremely carefully and slowly and primly and properly knowing there would be absolute hell to pay if even a crumb of food fell on his fantastic dress. The meal was actually very good, if not filling, but he looked at everyone else eating steak or chicken or fish with envy. Another note from his sister came along with the meal, which he opened with much trepidation, but it simply said, “Page 13, soy boy.”

He opened the Prissy Princess Guidebook, glitter from the cover once again coating his hands, and turned to the page. He read that all Prissy Princesses are vegetarians because killing animals hurts their very tender and sensitive Prissy Princess feelings and makes them cry. He was ready to cry himself, realizing that on top of everything else he was suffering he would never be allowed to eat his favorite foods like bacon or hamburgers or fried chicken ever again.

Later, towards the end of the reception, his mother and sister and The Twin Tormentors finally arrived, all dressed in suave pantsuits. The four ladies and his Nana led him outside the tent and away from the crowd and surrounded him again.

“Hi Shawny!” the twin on the left said.

“Hi Shawny!” the twin on the right in the identical white pantsuit said.

“We won our match! Two-nil, Shawny! We’re champions!” the one on the left continued.

“We both scored!” the one on the right added.

“We got trophies, Shawny!” the one on the left said.

“Big ones! And not Cuddleball participation trophies like little sissy fairies like you get, Dolly Destroyer!” the one on the right exclaimed and both twins laughed mockingly at him while Shawn could only seethe in anger.

All of a sudden his newly adopted Nana did something amazing. Shawn’s jaw dropped and he looked down at the ground and did everything he possibly could to hide his delight in fear of future reprisal. The old woman slapped the both of them right upside their identical little heads.

“Ow! Nana!” they both exclaimed and rubbed their heads. “Why, Nana?”

“It’s not fair, Nana,” the one on the left added.

“Enough!” She shouted. “Is this your best mate or not? Your triplet? Well you’re not acting like it. He’s doing everything he can to make up for what he did. Much more than most would. Don’t you see how difficult this is for him and how hard he’s working to save your friendship?”

The old woman put her hand on Shawn’s shoulder protectively, “He clearly adores the both of you, for some strange reason, and he’s very sorry for what he did to Miss Priscilla. It’s time for you three to make up and be best mates again. No more making fun of my little princess. Do you hear me?”

The twins just stood there in shock. Never in their life had they been so harshly reprimanded. Taking all the blame when trouble happened was what Shawn was for.

His mother addressed the two girls, “It’s the responsibility of Champion Girls to coddle and protect Prissy Princesses. If you’re going to join the class, you are going to learn responsibility. Is that clear?”

The chastised twins nodded. They did something they had never, ever done before during the entire time the three had known each other.

They apologized. “I’m sorry, Shawny,” said the one on the left.

“We won’t torment you anymore, Shawny,” the one on the right continued, “We’re sorry.”

“We really do like you Shawny,” the one on the left said.

“You’re fun,” the one on the right said.

“You’re sweet,” the one on the left said.

“You’re nice,” the one on the right said. “We didn’t fit in with the other kids at school. They didn’t like us.”

“We’re glad you were our friend anyway. We shouldn’t have been so mean. We were just teasing at first,” the one left said.

“But it got out of hand, Shawny. It’s just, you know…you’re soft and so sensitive. Like a princess. It’s easy to upset you. You take everything so seriously,” the one on the right continued.

“And it’s funny sometimes. Okay? The way you overreact?” the one on the left explained.

His mother spoke up, “It’s not his fault, girls. He was trying to be something he wasn’t. A boy. And it made him try to act like he was better than you because you’re girls. It’s completely natural that you felt the need to put him in his place. But he’s not hiding who he is anymore and trying to pose like he’s a man. He’s going to accept being a Prissy Princess and he needs his two best friends to help and protect him. The only thing he should ever be mocked for is trying to act like a boy again, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, will it, Cupcake?”

“No, Mommy,” Shawn quietly replied.

He looked to the twin to his left. “Thank you for being my best friend, Diane.” She smiled and pulled up her shirt, revealing the birthmark.

He looked to the twin on the right, “Thank you for being my best friend, Karen.” She smiled back at him as well.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Little Miss Shawna?” his sister asked.

He looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean, Miss Cindy?” he asked.

“Prissy Princess Polite Correctness says you should refer to all unmarried girls as ‘Miss’ when you address them to show your respect. That isn’t just a title for big sister. PPPC is very important for a Prissy Princess. The words a Prissy Princess uses matter very much and they must speak the way they are told to speak. I know you don’t want to do Prissy Princess Bad Behavior and earn another spanking, right, Little Miss Shawna? I know you haven’t finished reading your Prissy Princess Guidebook yet so we’ll let it slide just this one time, but don’t expect this leniency ever, ever again.

“PPPC is no joke, and there are many, many more rules to follow besides just this one. It’s not something you argue with even if it doesn’t make sense to you. Your guardians and the Prissy Princess Board of Directors know better than you about what language is appropriate for you to use. It’s not something you can just violate, even by accident, and expect not to be severely punished. For a Prissy Princess, following PPPC is the law and there are no excuses to break it.”

“Yes, Miss Cindy, I’m sorry Miss Cindy,” he obsequiously replied. “Miss Diane, Miss Karen. I’m very sorry for being disrespectful. And for pretending I didn’t want Miss Priscilla and hurting her. Please forgive me, for everything.”

The triplets came together in a hug. “We forgive you, Shawny,” the two replied together.

It was announced to a mentally and physically exhausted Shawn that he had to face one final ordeal. He was going to have to endure something called a “Prissy Princess Special Ceremony.” His mother, the twins, and his new Nana went back inside the reception tent to prepare.

He was left alone with his older sister. He nervously held his hands tightly together on his skirt. She looked down at him and sneered.

“I can’t believe you’re letting us do this to you. I always knew you were a little bitch, but I can’t believe it really took just one day for you to totally accept turning into a Prissy Princess. You’re my brother, and I made you wear my panties and a fucking ridiculous dress all day. Look at you. I bet you regret making fun of me for being a girly-girl now, don’t you?”

He stared down at the ground in absolute mortification and fear. His lip was quivering and tears were in his eyes.

Cindy smiled as she took in the sight of her cowering little brother. Shawn could tell she was barely able to contain her complete and absolute pleasure and glee at doing this to him. His mother had a feminist political agenda and thought she was changing the world for the better. His Nana just wanted a girly-girl granddaughter to dote on and carry on her legacy. The Twin Tormentors were immature and just wanted companionship but let their teasing get completely out of hand and turn to bullying. But his sister was different from all of them. She just wanted to see him suffer emasculation because something about it made her feel good. She was brilliant, she was capable, she was driven, and she was pure sadistic evil. Shawn knew deep down, he wasn’t going to be the last boy to suffer at her hands. She was going to make doing this kind of thing her life’s work, somehow. He prayed that one day someone would be brave and strong enough to stand up and put a stop to her, but he knew that person wouldn’t be him.

“It’s not fair,” he couldn’t stop himself from whining with tears in his eyes.

His sister crossed her arms. “Prissy Princess Bad Behavior. It looks like you’ll be getting one more spanking before bed tonight. If Mom wasn’t so intent on having you pass your trial period so fast so she could show you off as her star pupil, I’d make you a Prissy Princess Pottypants this very second for talking back to me. I’d love to watch you wetting your diaper and drinking from a bottle in front of my baseball team.”

“It’s time for my Prissy Princess Special Ceremony, Miss Cindy,” he whispered.

“That’s right. It is. SHAWN.”

He could only sob in reply.

He was led by his mother towards the slightly elevated stage that had been set up for the band with his sister, The Twin Tormentors, and his adopted Nana following closely behind.

“Now, Little Miss Shawna. It’s time for you to make a choice,” his mother explained. “This is your very last chance. I’ll bet you figured out by now that we were exaggerating your legal troubles. We paid for the broken window and for restoring Miss Priscilla and that was really the end of it. But your behavior has to change. If you refuse to go through with your ceremony, we’ll be sending you to a military boarding school until you're eighteen, and we will never see you again. All of the pictures and videos from today will be destroyed so you will have a totally fresh start. If you do go through with it, you’ll be a Prissy Princess forever. So, what’s it going to be?”

Shawn shook in confusion, his exhausted mind having difficulty following the revelations. He had been confused and light headed ever since eating his Prissy Princess Special Treat several hours before. “I’m...I’m not going to juvenile hall?”

Shawn refused to believe it was true. He couldn’t accept that he had so humiliated and emasculated himself over a lie. They were tricking him or lying to him again, he was sure of it. His sister would never allow it, he was absolutely dead certain. As he minced along he tried to imagine himself in military school but had difficulty seeing it in his mind after the day he had been through. The idea terrified him. He knew something had changed in him when he skipped down the aisle as a flower girl in his Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Military school could never change him back into what he used to be.

Wouldn’t it just be easier? Wouldn’t it be safer? Didn’t he have no choice, really? “I’ll do the ceremony, Mommy,” he whispered and nodded. “I’m a Prissy Princess.”

Of course, he was correct that the choice was actually a lie. If he had refused the ceremony the only thing that would have happened is that he would be spending some time as Baby Miss Shawna, a Prissy Princess Pottypants, until he changed his ways. The choice was a test from his mother, and he had passed. To anyone who looked, it would seem he had joined the Prissy Princess Correctional Club totally of his own free will.

He took his mincing little steps towards the stage. He gracefully curtsied and took his seat on a little throne like chair, surrounded again by his voluminous skirts. His sister held a pillow with a purple silk cloth covering some object or objects. He was handed a piece of paper rolled up like a scroll and tied with a pink ribbon. He opened the scroll and read it silently and then he froze, the audience waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place,” he very quietly whispered. “Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.”

In a loud and bright voice with a distinct hint of a British accent, he smiled and read , “Hear ye, Hear ye!

“This is a very special Prissy Princess Proclamation officially endorsed by the Prissy Princess Correctional Club Board of Directors in Clearwater, Florida.

“The holder of this scroll has successfully undergone a Prissy Princess Correctional Club Trial Period. With total willingness he has publicly made amends with those he has wronged, publicly renounced his masculinity, and publicly committed to a lifetime of full and total well behaved Prissy Princess effeminacy.

“In recognition of his status as a willing Prissy Princess Correctional Club inductee, with a successful trial period of Prissy Princess behavior meeting club inductee standards, the holder of this scroll is hereby declared a full and regal member in good standing upon publicly completing this Prissy Princess Proclamation.”

“Henceforth, I shall be known as Little Miss Shawna, and I’m the Prissy Princess of…” He froze. He had read that he was supposed to pick his Prissy Princess title, but there hadn’t been any time. His trial period had gone much quicker than he had expected.

He looked at the crowd of people waiting for him and saw his sister. He crashed out of the Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.

He had to stop this. All he had to do was refuse to keep reading. He would run away and he could go back to being a boy again. Military school or juvenile hall could be terrible but at least he could play baseball. And he wouldn’t have to put up with the Twin Tormentors, even if they promised not to bully him anymore. So what if he felt like a sissy now? He could get over it, couldn’t he? They did this to him on purpose. They just threw him in the Prissy Princess deep end and expected him to drown in it. But he didn’t have to, he could fight back.

He rolled up the paper and stared up at his sister and mother, ready to finally reclaim his dignity. But just at that moment his sister removed the cloth covering the items on the pillow. His eyes opened wide. He started to feel the pink glow and the butterflies in his stomach once more. He could feel the happy little Prissy Princess skipping down the street inside his mind. Before he knew it he was standing with a huge grin on his face.

His sister removed the tiara from his head, the one that now seemed to Shawn like a cheap toy in comparison, and replaced it with the one from the pillow. The tiara prominently featured a huge purple gem in the shape of a cupcake. His sister handed him the matching sparkling silver and purple sceptre as well. She put the pink sash proclaiming him a Prissy Princess on over the bodice of his dress.

He continued, his voice showing no more hesitation, only pride and a hint of a British accent. “Henceforth, I shall be known as Little Miss Shawna, and I’m the Prissy Princess of LAVENDER LACE CUPCAKES!”

He absolutely swooned with happiness as he waved to the wedding guests who applauded him despite their confusion at the odd display.

His mother presented him with the cupcake from earlier, the single candle now lit. He was instructed to blow out the candle and make a wish. Still trembling with delight, he announced his wish, “There’s nothing else in the world I want more than lots and lots of Prissy Princess friends to play with!”

With his final little step to becoming a Prissy Princess complete, he stood on the stage in his Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. There was an adorable dollop of purple frosting on his nose from taking a bite of the cupcake. He smiled and felt sure that one day soon his wish would come true.

-

JUST BECAUSE YOU’VE COMPLETED YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL CEREMONY DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE DONE PRISSY PRINCESS LEARNING AND GROWING! ONE DAY YOU’LL TAKE YOUR NEXT STEPS AND BECOME A PRISSY PRINCESS TWEEN SUPREME!

In your Prissy Princess workbook, write about what you think it takes to become a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme and how excited you are for the opportunity. Just think of all the fancy new clothes you’ll be able to wear. As a Prissy Princess Pottypants you wore clothing suitable for a three year old or younger traditional girl. As a Prissy Princess you wear clothes suitable for a four to eight year old traditional girl. But as a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme you’ll be privileged to wear clothes suitable for a nine to twelve year old traditional girl! Wow, do you think you’re mature enough for that? It’s going to take a lot of work to earn such a prestigious Prissy Princess privilege. In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what you might look like when you finally earn the privileges of a Prissy Princess Junior Miss. :)

Part 2: The Days After

Chapter 8: Prissy Princess Lovely and Lonesome

Several months later a happily humming Little Miss Shawna skipped from his new house on the school grounds, with Karen and Diane serving as chaperone. At first some of the other Champion Girls had made fun of them for having a Prissy Princess as a best friend, and doing things like sitting with a Prissy Princess for their communal meals instead of with them. They laughed when he would insist on holding their hands or spontaneously kiss them on the cheek. But they soon learned it was a mistake to try and mess with The Twin Tormentors. They were two of the toughest young Champion Girls in the school and they didn’t let anyone push them around. Thinking their companionship with a Prissy Princess meant they were any less Champion Girls was a big mistake. Competition and even fighting like this was encouraged in Champion Girls to help toughen them up. Besides, the Champion Girls soon learned that coddling and protecting a Prissy Princess was a way to earn favor and status in the Champion Girl Promotion Club as it was a sign of maturity and readiness to eventually become a Champion Girl head of household with a Prissy Princess spouse.

The most important duty of a Champion Girl was to be a KISA, a Knight In Shining Armor, and prevent a Prissy Princess from becoming a DDID, a Ditzy Damsel In Distress. A Prissy Princess became a DDID in any situation in which they found themselves in danger. However, most commonly saying a Prissy Princess was a DDID was a polite way of saying they had gone missing. Who can guess why such a thing would happen to a Prissy Princess? With their vacant, happy little heads full of thoughts of sugar and spice and flowers and fun, it’s natural they would be prone to losing track of where they were as they skipped along through life. Every Prissy Princess carried a notecard in their purse with emergency instructions if they ever found themselves a DDID. It told them that if they were in no immediate danger to stay where they were and hand the note to a responsible adult. The note would tell the adult that the holder of the note was a Ditzy Damsel and was likely scared and confused. It listed a phone number for the Prissy Princess Correctional Club headquarters in Clearwater and reminded the reader that Prissy Princess Ditzy Damsels were legally mandated to remain under supervision by order of either the courts or their guardians. Failing to provide aid could in some cases be a crime.

Because the vacant, happy Prissy Princesses were so likely to have Ditzy Damsel moments, they were always closely chaperoned by an assigned Champion Girl or other mature individual when they were out of their schools or homes, even outside on the school grounds with the very tall wall surrounding it.

The triplets made their way together to the front gate. “Hi Nana!” Shawna squealed and curtsied. The hint of a British accent in his voice was now permanent, whether he was inside the Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place or out. He was on the edges of it at least, hearing it’s siren call, most of the time now.

“You look lovely today, Princess. What a pretty new frock! Where did that one come from? I don’t remember buying it for you,” his Nana replied. The two had made their Sunday tea with the ladies and shopping trips a weekly appointment they never missed. Sometimes they would go on other special Sunday outings, to see a flower show or a new Disney Princess movie or to the ballet or other similar activities suitable for a lady and the little granddaughter she doted on. His Nana’s friends loved Little Miss Shawna, as did the old ladies at the senior center where he did his community service. It was odd for the old ladies to see a boy acting the way Shawna did. But eventually he won them over because his femininity reminded them of what girls were like when they were younger. It was a version of cute, adorable, old fashioned femininity many of them missed seeing in modern girls so Little Miss Shawna was a good substitute.

Shawna had found that he did enjoy being doted on and treated nicely and coddled and protected. He felt safe and warm and happy in his role, feelings he had never had as an outcast boy who could never live up to people’s expectations of him.

Shawna beamed in pride. “Oh, Nana! I made it from a pattern!” He twirled in the knee length pale green and white checkered gingham dress, with a simple lace trim on the hem. He wore a white blouse beneath it, frilly white ankle socks, and glossy pale green Mary Janes as well. “It’s not as fancy and nice as my other frocks, but I’m still learning. Look!” From his matching purse he retrieved a small patch with the image of a needle and thread. “I passed Prissy Princess Simple Sewing! I didn’t sew the patch on my sash yet because I wanted to show it to you first. I knew you would be proud.” He smiled and curtsied again.

“Hi, Nana!” the twins both said. They wore their soccer uniforms. They were off to another match. They were part of a traveling team now and were the star players of course.

“Hello, girls!” Nana replied. “Are you taking good care of my little princess?”

“Yes, Nana!” they both replied.

The old woman smiled and nodded. “Good.”

The twin on the right swiped her Champion Girl ID card to open the gate. The Champion Girls were considered level headed, smart, and responsible enough to wander freely. The gate was there to keep Prissy Princesses from becoming a DDID.

The triplets hugged. Shawna took his Nana’s hand and held Miss Priscilla in his other. He could barely remember now what it was like not to have the doll as a constant companion. Shawna and his Nana walked off to the left, the twins walked off to the right.

Coddled and protected or not, the life of a Prissy Princess was not an easy one. Prissy Princess Privileges come with Prissy Princess Regal Responsibilities. Prissy Princess Bad Behavior must be strictly avoided, at risk of a spanking and time on the pink sandpaper stool or even demotion to a Prissy Princess Pottypants. Prissy Princess Good Behavior is expected to be above and beyond the call of duty, not just a rote following of the rules in the Prissy Princess Guidebook. Shawna no longer needed to carry the guidebook with him, though he did anyway because keeping it close was a Regal Responsibility. He had already memorized the entire book, cover to cover, earning him another patch for his Prissy Princess sash.

He excelled and thrived in his new school in a way he never had in the past with a traditional curriculum. The Prissy Princess Correctional Club was his entire world now, and the Prissy Princess Correctional Club Guidebook was his bible. He was doing everything he could to be the star pupil his mother wanted him to be and his cruel sister was driving him to be. Aside from his community service at the senior center and his weekly Sunday outings with Nana, a highlight of both of their weeks, he spent almost all of his time on the school grounds.

He felt that he finally had something in life he never had as a boy. He had a very clear and well defined role in his life. He knew exactly where he fit. He had structure and discipline. He was told exactly what he was supposed to be doing, down to the letter, and when he did it he was rewarded with praise and Prissy Princess Special Treats which left him in a happy ditzy nice vacant fog for the rest of the day.

When he went on his outings with Nana the world outside the school grounds honestly seemed strange and confusing to him. It was odd for him to see boys and men, who the Prissy Princess Guidebook says he should simply think of as uncorrected Prissy Princesses, in roles that he now felt were better suited for Champion Girls. He was told to show uncorrected Prissy Princesses absolute utmost respect and always refer to them as “Mr.” and never, ever as a “Little Miss” which was their true station. He was told to never challenge the idea that they were superior to women and Champion Girls because they could become angry and violent if questioned on matters of this nature by a corrected Prissy Princess. One day, his mother told him, there would be no more uncorrected Prissy Princesses.

Similarly, it was odd for Shawna seeing girls acting like swishy and silly Prissy Princesses. It made him feel dizzy like the whole world was upside down. Most of his dance and gymnastics and pageant lessons were done with private tutors at the school but occasionally he would do things like going to a ballet class with traditional girls to practice for a recital he would perform in with them. The girls were told he was a very special boy and not to make fun of him. They were surprised when he would turn out to be the biggest girly-girl among them. They would look at him and see it as odd that a boy would just love wearing a pink leotard and tutu, and he looked back at them and felt it odd a girl would.

His days started very early, helping the kitchen staff prepare the communal meals in a crisp lacy white apron that matched his pink and white school jumper. Cooking was an essential part of Prissy Princess Home Economics, of course. He learned to stop feeling the incredible hunger pangs each day as he helped to prepare the large high protein meals for the Champion Girls featuring items like bacon or steak. Instead, he thought about cute and loyal little piggies and cows and how much it hurt his tender Prissy Princess feelings that they had to be killed. Often thinking about it made him cry. Eventually, he stopped even seeing meat as food. He was perfectly happy with his alternative breakfast, a small portion of scrambled tofu and a slice of avocado toast with lime zest and a small cup of mixed fruit on the side. Every day he could feel himself becoming more and more Prissy Princess slim and waifish.

Of course, as a Prissy Princess Little Miss he was too immature to help with every kitchen task. Some were simply too dangerous for the little dears. Can you imagine a ditzy Little Miss slicing and chopping? Everyone can agree that absolutely nothing but trouble could come from a happy, ditzy, vacant, airheaded Little Miss with access to a knife. The only mincing a Prissy Princess Little Miss should do is the kind he does with his feet.

It was also his responsibility to help clean the school, and to help clean up after the meals. At first these responsibilities proved too overwhelming for him. The Champion Girls were taught to be unconcerned about leaving a mess because there were Prissy Princesses happy to help clean. They had much more important things to concern themselves with. But the reality of the situation is that there were thirty Champion Girls and only one Prissy Princess currently enrolled in their local school. Karen and Diane convinced the other Champion Girls to keep things neater to make things easier and help coddle the Prissy Princess, until there were more Prissy Princesses enrolled to handle those Regal Responsibilities.

All in all, Little Miss Shawna was coming to appreciate his new life. He was learning so many new things about how to be a good Prissy Princess and excelling in all his traditional girly-girl classes and extracurricular activities. His worst subjects had always been math and science, where his sister’s achievements constantly outshined his own, and now he didn’t need to worry about those subjects at all. His new curriculum gave him many more opportunities to let his dreamy and imaginative side come out. He had no need at all to concern himself with competing with his sister because they had entirely different roles.

The Prissy Princess Minimal Math curriculum meant that all he had to know how to do was to add, subtract, multiply, divide, and keep a basic household budget. Anything else a Prissy Princess might need in daily life, such as any measurement conversions required for following a recipe, could be looked up on reference pages in the back of the Prissy Princess math book or he could simply ask a Champion Girl for the answer. The title of the Prissy Princess Minimal Math book was, “Math Gives You A Headache: How To Avoid It.”

As the weeks and months continued to fly by, everyone agreed that Little Miss Shawna was becoming a perfect model of a Prissy Princess. One day, though, they all realized that there was still something very major missing from his life.

In his standard uniform of a fancy pink juvenile jumper dress and white tights and his Prissy Princess sash, Shawna stood in front of the class of Champion Girls in their simple uniform of plain blue pants, plain white shirts, and plain blue ties. Shawna had no idea what was about to occur, but quietly stood open and yielding to whatever might come as always. His mother and sister and the twins stood behind him proudly. His mother spoke, “This is a very special day for Little Miss Shawna everyone. Shawna, do you know what today is?”

Shawna shook his head, a vacant smile on his face, still unaware of what was going on, “No, Mummy.”

“Well, Shawna, it’s now been a whole month since you’ve received a single spanking for Prissy Princess Bad Behavior. Can you believe it?”

Shawna’s mouth dropped open in shock, he lived in constant fear of a spanking and remembered each spanking and all his time on the pink sandpaper stool very clearly, but he didn’t realize it had been so long. For the first two months he had received a spanking at least once every single day. His sister always looked for any justification at all with a very keen eye. “No, Mummy. What does that mean?”

“What does the Prissy Princess Guidebook say, Cupcake?”

He closed his eyes in concentration, flipping through the book in his mind, and then he gasped. “One month without a spanking means...Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Bronze Status!”

He smiled with delight as his mother pinned a bronze ribbon onto his Prissy Princess sash with an image of two ballet shoes on it.

“The Prissy Princess Guidebook says,” he recited from memory, “After one month free of Prissy Princess Bad Behavior a moral and upright Prissy Princess is privileged to receive a special bronze ribbon commemorating his commitment to Prissy Princess Good Behavior at all times in recognition of his achievement as a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Bronze Status. Wow, do you….” He froze and seemed a bit choked up, “Wow, do you…”

He stopped reciting. His smiling face crumpled into a pout. And then a frown. And then he was sobbing uncontrollably in front of the entire class. The twins rushed to coddle him and the triplets hugged once again.

“What’s wrong, Shawny?” Karen asked.

“What’s wrong, Shawny?” Diane repeated.

He resumed reciting through his sobs, “Wow, do you think your Prissy Princess friends will be jealous?” He continued to cry inconsolably. “Miss Karen, Miss Diane. You’ll always be my very best mates. But I need Prissy Princess friends too.

“I’m so lonely!” he wailed. “I need Prissy Princesses to play dollies and hop scotch with me, to dance with in dance class, and to sing with me when we do our chores, and to color with.” He wailed again, “I’ve never even gotten to play Cuddleball! How can I be a Prissy Princess without even a single Cuddleball participation trophy? I love you both very much, but you can’t do those things with me. You have important Champion Girl things to do.”

“It’s okay, Shawny, stop crying,” Diane said.

“We’ve got big news, Shawny,” Karen added.

His mother handed him a flyer printed on pink paper covered in glitter. Shawna’s sobbing stopped and his eyes opened up with surprise and delight. His mother told him, “Now that you’re officially a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes, you qualify to attend. And believe me, Cupcake, I’m doing everything I can to find more permanent Prissy Princess classmates for you. I promise you it won’t be too much longer. But remember, if you do Prissy Princess Bad Behavior and need a spanking you will lose that ribbon and no longer qualify. Bronze status is just the first level, so be careful.”

The flyer announced a one week retreat for Prissy Princess All-Star pupils selected from the dozen or so schools that had been founded so far and that it would be held at the Champion Girl Promotion Club and Prissy Princess Correctional Club Headquarters in Clearwater, Florida. It wasn’t a permanent solution to his loneliness, but he would finally get to meet other Prissy Princesses like him. And absolutely best of all, he would be privileged to participate in the first ever World Participation Cup of Cuddleball.

He screamed and squealed with excitement. He curtsied to his mother and sister and best mates and the rest of the Champion Girls over and over. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” He took a deep breath, “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU….” he went on like this. He had to be excused from classes and Regal Responsibilities for the rest of the day because his tender Prissy Princess feelings were just too overwhelmed.

-

A PRISSY PRINCESS IS MADE OF SUGAR AND SPICE AND FLOWERS AND FUN. AN UNCORRECTED TRADITIONAL BOY IS MADE OF SNIPS AND SNAILS AND SPIDERS AND SLIME. IN PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL THERAPY, YOU LEARN TO VISUALIZE AND ACTUALIZE ALL OF THOSE OLD UNCORRECTED BOYISH THINGS WHILE YOUR TEACHER PATIENTLY GUIDES YOU IN REMOVING THEM FROM YOU FOREVER.

Have you started your Prissy Princess Special Therapy yet? Most Prissy Princesses find it challenging and difficult for their tender Prissy Princess feelings to face reminders of their uncorrected past, but they know it’s for the best. When their Prissy Princess Special Therapy is done it makes them feel so nice and happy and clean and clear like a beautiful unique pure white snowflake. In your Prissy Princess workbook, write about how uncomfortable you are with your remaining uncorrected behavior and how happy you will be when you are finally Prissy Princess Clean and Clear forever. Just think, the more you clean yourself of all of those icky spiders and slime, the more likely that you might even make it to Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Platinum Status! In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of yourself wearing a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Platinum Ribbon. One day, that could be you. :)

Chapter 9: Prissy Princess Tween Supreme

Several months later the big first day of the retreat finally arrived. Little Miss Shawna turned and waved to Karen and Diane. He would definitely miss seeing them for the week but as Champion Girl star pupils they were off to a week at NASA Space Camp. It was important to make sure Champion Girls were encouraged for their achievements in math and science because girls had been so unfairly discouraged in those pursuits so long.

He was wearing his favorite and fanciest frock, the lavender and white lace confection he wore his very first day as a Prissy Princess, because this first meeting of Prissy Princess All-Stars was to be a formal and official Prissy Princess celebration full of fun and pomp. He had used his sewing skills to adjust it himself after realizing it hung on him loosely now that his figure had become more Prissy Princess slim and waifish.

He held the hand of the woman who would be his teacher for the week. Mrs. Linda McCoy ran the Clearwater school at Prissy Princess Headquarters, PPHQ, the very first Prissy Princess school in the world. She had short black hair and wore a dark pantsuit. “You’re not nervous, are you, Little Miss Shawna?” she asked.

“Oh no, Mrs. McCoy! I’m so super excited to meet my Prissy Princess friends, I’ve waited so long!” he replied while happily smiling and enjoying the bright Florida sunshine.

She patted him gently on the head. “Well, you arrived a little early. The rest of the Prissy Princess All-Stars will be here soon. While you wait, I have someone very special you can play with.” She led him towards the entrance to the school. The building looked similar to his school back home but was much larger.

“We’ve canceled our regular classes for the day so you little stars can have the classroom to yourselves to get to know each other without other Prissy Princesses to distract you. The other Prissy Princesses are off taking this opportunity to clean the rest of the school from top to bottom. Shawna smiled and waved at a Prissy Princess in the standard juvenile pink and white plaid Prissy Princess school uniform who was cleaning a window inside the school. At first he only glared and frowned in response, but at a look from Mrs. McCoy who silently mouthed PPBB at him he smiled and waved back.

Mrs. McCoy sighed. “If only all the Prissy Princesses were as yielding as you Prissy Princess All-Stars, my life would be a lot easier. I have one very naughty Prissy Princess inside who can’t help with all that cleaning right now in his current state. You can keep him company for now, Shawna.” She opened the door and led him inside. She took his pink Prissy Princess backpack with his hand embroidered name on it and hung it on a hook in the closet. She pointed Shawn towards the special Prissy Princess she wanted him to meet.

Shawna gasped and his hands came to both of his cheeks in delight. He bounced up and down in excitement. “IT’S A CUTE LITTLE BABY!” He squealed and quickly ran forward towards the other boy, though his version of a run even when he wasn’t in skirts as restrictive as his Prissy Princess dream dress was more accurately described as just mincing a little more quickly with his elbows locked to his chest and his wrists flapping.

Despite his babyish status the other Prissy Princess was in fact taller and much huskier than Shawna. He was not Prissy Princess slim and waifish at all. He stood wobbly and bow legged in a very, very thick diaper. Shawna opened his arms wide intending to hug the other boy but before Shawna was halfway there the other boy first windmilled his arms and then fell backwards onto his heavily padded bottom, having lost his balance. He stared down forlornly at the thick pink booties strapped to his feet which made staying upright nearly impossible.

Shawna stopped and giggled at the other boy. He looked at him sitting there in his very short version of a Prissy Princess school dress that came down only to the very top of his diapers, which were covered by plastic panties in a matching pink and white plaid design with white lace ruffles and a big pink floppy bow on the rear. He wore a matching bonnet on his head as well. He wore a matching bib embroidered with the name “Baby Miss Antonia,” in pink lettering. Having his name embroidered on his bib was obviously a necessity because he was unable to introduce himself. The pacifier in his mouth was tied around the back of his head, making it impossible for him to speak.

“Hello, Baby Miss Antonia! I’m Little Miss Shawna, and I’m the Prissy Princess of Lavender Lace Cupcakes!” he announced with pride before continuing, “We’re going to be the best of Prissy Princess friends, I just know it!” He knelt down and hugged the other boy as tightly as he could. The pacifier muted the boys muffled protests. Shawna kissed the other boy right on the cheek and then started to tickle and coo at him like a real baby. The boy tried to resist this treatment with an extremely angry glint in his eye but the large padded gloves on his hands made any resistance, even to a waifish, slim little powderpuff like Little Miss Shawna completely impossible. Shawna kept tickling and tickling and suddenly the boy’s efforts to resist became more and more desperate until a resigned look came to his eyes, his resistance ceased, and his cheeks blushed bright pink. Shawna stopped and again his hands went to his cheeks in delight. “Just like a real baby!” he squealed before turning back to Mrs. McCoy, “Mrs. McCoy! Baby Miss Antonia wet his nappy!”

The other boy started to sob in humiliation through his pacifier. Shawna hugged him and tried to console him, speaking in a baby talk voice he often used with his dolls.

Mrs. McCoy replied, “Thank you, Little Miss Shawna. I’ll change him in a little while. I can see your mother was right about you being a natural. You know exactly how to treat a Prissy Princess Pottypants like Antonia.”

The boy’s sobs grew louder as Mrs. McCoy looked down at him and resumed speaking, “Can you believe Antonia has been in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club for six months and still hasn’t passed his Prissy Princess Trial Period? It seems like he’d rather spend his days in wet diapers than fulfill his Regal Responsibilities. Just a week ago he was very close, but when he was taken out to visit his old school and make his amends he refused to apologize and instead threw a nasty little tantrum before we could get him inside.”

Shawna shook his head sadly as he looked at the boy. “You can do it, Baby Miss Antonia. I know you can. One day you’ll have a Prissy Princess Tiara and Prissy Princess Sceptre and Prissy Princess Sash all your own. Next time you’ll do it. Just look at me, I passed my Prissy Princess Trial Period in one little day. If I can do that, anyone can do it if they just try as hard as they can.”

He hugged the boy and whispered in his ear, “You can do it. Just remember. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.” He rocked the boy back and forth to the repetitive rhythm of the mantra, “Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.” A look of resignation came over the boy’s face and he calmed down.

Mrs. McCoy smiled down at Shawna. “Prissy Princess Good Behavior, Prissy Princess Treats For Later,” she said and handed him a Prissy Princess Special Treat. Shawna smiled in delight and ate the candy. He sat and played dollies with Baby Miss Antonia while he waited, feeling the exhilarating ditzy euphoria of pleasing Mrs. McCoy and finally having a Prissy Princess friend to play dolls with, even if he was an immature Prissy Princess Pottypants.

In a little while, it was finally time for him to meet his true peers, the rest of the Prissy Princess star pupils had arrived. Each took a turn to introduce themselves in front of the class and each wore a Prissy Princess Tiara and carried a matching Prissy Princess Sceptre along with their favorite dolls.

Little Miss Shawna went first and made a very good impression on the group. He told them all about how he was very new to the PPCC but felt like it was his home now. He told them about how he had passed his Prissy Princess Trial Period in just one day. He said his favorite activity was brushing and combing his doll Miss Priscilla’s hair and he passed his antique brush and comb around the class for everyone to admire. He told them about how he loved to dream and to draw and to share and hear stories. Last but not least he shocked them all by telling them that since he was alone at his school he had never once gotten to participate in a game of Cuddleball and that he couldn’t wait for that day to come. One Prissy Princess asked him if he was originally from England because of the way he spoke. Shawna explained that he had picked up the accent from his two very best mates, two Champion Girls named Karen and Diane. When he was done introducing himself, Shawna curtsied and took his seat.

The first of Shawna’s Prissy Princess All-Star peers stepped forward in a yellow and white dress. He curtsied and smiled. “Hello, everyone! I’m Little Miss Mary, and I’m the Prissy Princess of Upright Lily Lemongrass!” Little Miss Mary said his favorite activity was to read and write heartfelt stories any Prissy Princess would adore. Throughout the week, Little Miss Mary and Little Miss Shawna would bond over reading together from Mary’s antique copies of “Alice in Wonderland” and “The Wizard of Oz.”

The next wore a white dress covered in lavish light green lace. “Hello everyone, I’m Little Miss Sally, and I’m the Prissy Princess of Silky Sage Snowangels!” During the week, all the Prissy Princess star pupils would agree that Little Miss Sally was the nicest and most caring. He was always the quickest with compliments and gave encouraging words to all of them when things were tough.

There was also Little Miss Alexis, who in a pure snow white dress announced himself the Prissy Princess of Beautiful Bridal Bouquets and said that it was his greatest desire to one day be married to a Champion Girl who would coddle and protect him. He was a very willing club inductee who wanted to join from the moment he saw a pamphlet explaining the Prissy Princess Correctional Club. He had once run away from home to try and join because his very traditional parents wouldn’t allow him to. After that Ditzy Damsel In Distress moment his parents realized the right thing to do was to allow him to pursue his dream and agreed to sign him up.

Next up was Little Miss Ameera, the Prissy Princess of Magenta Mum Maple. He had delicate dark olive skin and wore a purplish-red dress. His hair was completely covered in a matching silk headscarf. Little Miss Ameera came from the Prissy Princess school in Canada, but what bonded him with Little Miss Shawna was his stories of how his family had fled Kuwait during the Gulf War. His harrowing tale reminded Shawna very much of his Nana’s stories of growing up in England during World War II.

The most cute and twee of the Prissy Princess All-Stars was Little Miss Himari, the Prissy Princess of Kawaii Candy Chrysanth, who came from the Prissy Princess school in Tokyo. He was still learning English and sometimes had difficulty communicating with the other Prissy Princesses, but they still made every effort to include him. Later that week he showed Little Miss Shawna a comic book called Ranma ½ about a boy who changed into a girl when splashed with water. He patiently explained what was happening on every page to help practice his English and because Shawna couldn’t read the foreign text. Shawna was fascinated by the story and the Japanese comic style which he had never seen before. It gave him the idea to start drawing his own comic book in a similar art style called, “The Twin Tormentors and The Dolly Destroyer.” It later proved a hit with Prissy Princesses and Champion Girls alike.

In the comic, a twin pair of masked Champion Girl superheroes in blue and white tights named Karen and Diane, The Twin Tormentors, would fight crime and the patriarchy along with their loyal little sidekick Little Miss Shawna, The Dolly Destroyer. The Dolly Destroyer’s costume was a poufy pink and white dress underneath which he wore elaborately frilly and lacy white pettipants. He wore a pink glittery mask over his eyes and the rest of his face was exaggeratedly made up like an old fashioned doll. He wore his hair in elaborate curls to further the doll like appearance.

Of course, The Dolly Destroyer was much more comic relief than superhero. In every edition he would ditizily wander into danger and find himself captured and held in some embarrassing situation as a Ditzy Damsel In Distress for The Twin Tormentors to rescue like Champion Girl Knights In Shining Armor. He would often find himself tied up and hanging upside down with the skirts of his costume covering his face and his cute little pettipants on display for everyone to see. “Oh, save me, Twin Tormentors! Save me!” he would scream.

From the Prissy Princess school in London there was Little Miss Saanvi, the Prissy Princess of Cute Cardamom Cuddles. He had dark tan skin and black hair and his family was originally from India. He wore a lovely sea green and pink saree. The Prissy Princess All-Stars saw him as impressively open and yielding. He was the quickest to make close Prissy Princess friends with the entire group because he was so happy to share about himself and ask questions about the rest. Whenever there was a dispute over which Prissy Princess got to play with a doll or coloring book he would offer to give up his own to resolve it.

There was also Little Miss Josefina, the Prissy Princess of Fancy Cream Flan from the Prissy Princess school in Mexico City. Josefina loved to cook, and gave Little Miss Shawna a secret family recipe for a fiery, sweet, and zesty red sauce to use to braise tofu for burritos. He said the recipe for the sauce was a family secret that had been passed to him by his abuela, his grandmother, who doted on Josefina the way Shawna’s Nana doted on him. The sauce was traditionally used with meat, but was perfect to add a deep savory flavor that was easily absorbed into the neutral tasting bean curd.

Next up was Little Miss Polina, the Prissy Princess of Alyonka Daisy Delights from Moscow. He was the most jovial and funny and had a sharp wit. No matter how much a Prissy Princess was struggling he had a joke or a jest to help cheer them up. He was also the most generous of the Prissy Princess all-stars. He would always stop his own work to help others who were struggling and he just lived for sharing and caring. He explained that Alyonka was a Russian candy bar famous for the iconic picture of a baby girl on the wrapper and that he had brought some to share. With Mrs. McCoy’s permission, remembering that Prissy Princesses strive to be waifish and slim and their guardians must carefully monitor their calorie intake, he handed out a small portion to each of them. All agreed it was delicious.

When Little Miss Polina was finished, the final Prissy Princess All-Star stepped forward. Whispers of awe broke out among the other Prissy Princesses as he curtsied to them. This Prissy Princess wore a beautiful pink dress that was decidedly less childish than the rest of their outfits and wore a purple sash over his dress instead of a pink one like the rest of them. He had pierced ears and the rest of the Prissy Princesses felt very immature with their clip on earrings. His shoes had a small heel while all of the other Prissy Princess All-Stars wore flats. Shawna heard whispered speculation that he was even wearing a training bra. The ebony skinned Prissy Princess wore his hair tightly braided in fishbone cornrows with a puffy mass of curls on top as well.

The Prissy Princess All-Stars sat in awed silence as he spoke, “Hello, everyone! My name is Junior Miss Tiana, and I’m the Prissy Princess...” he paused for a just a beat and saucily winked at them, “...Tween Supreme, of Pink Zinfandel Xylose.”

Utter chaos broke out among the Prissy Princess All-Stars. None had ever met a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme before because Junior Miss Tiana was the very first Prissy Princess in the world to achieve that lofty position. There were shouts of glee and jovial laughter and delight.

“Prissy Princess Tween Supreme, it is real!” one shouted.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” another repeated.

“He’s so mature!”

“I wish I had pierced ears,” another said wistfully.

“That’s the absolute best Prissy Princess special unique title ever,” Shawna said in amazement as the rest of the all-stars nodded their agreement.

“What’s xylose?” one voice asked in confusion.

Mrs. McCoy finally quieted the excited Prissy Princesses and Junior Miss Tiana resumed speaking.

First he explained his special unique Prissy Princess title. He said that xylose was actually the most important single word in the Prissy Princess ABCs. He said that xylose was a calorie free sweetener and that it was what made their Prissy Princess Special Treats so sweet and nice. He said that, believe it or not, it was actually made from a block of wood. He said the actual process was boring Champion Girl science stuff he didn’t understand that would give the entire class headaches anyway, but that the important thing to remember was that something so sweet and nice and vacant could come from something so hard and rough and unyielding. Every Prissy Princess was a little like xylose. The Prissy Princesses all oohed and aahed at the wisdom of a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme.

He explained how he grew up on a family winery in California. He didn’t remember much about it because he was so little but he remembered he used to love to sneak grapes off the vines and that they were his very favorite sweet treat. Tragedy had struck his family, however, and his parents were killed in a home invasion. Having no close relatives who were willing to take him in, he was put up for adoption and was now the son of Mrs. McCoy. She raised him as a Prissy Princess willing inductee from a very young age, developing and perfecting the process as she went with help from people like Shawna’s mother and the other radical feminist members of the Prissy Princess Board of Directors. He was the very first Prissy Princess student and over time had earned his status as a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme.

His purple sash was covered in dozens of advanced Prissy Princess Tween Supreme patches, front and back. He showed them the purple and gold glittery cover of his copy of the Prissy Princess Tween Supreme Correctional Guidebook but Mrs. McCoy reminded them all that Little Miss Prissy Princesses were not mature enough to handle the information inside and were forbidden to read it. Shawna’s heart was absolutely pounding with desire and longing to one day prove himself mature enough to read it and add to his base of Prissy Princess knowledge. Frustratingly, Junior Miss Tiana told them that he was forbidden to say exactly how he earned the title of Prissy Princess Tween Supreme. It was something that each Prissy Princess had to discover and do on his own and that it wouldn’t take exactly the same form for all of them. He said that if your Prissy Princess heart was truly loyal and upright and moral, when the time came a Little Miss would know what to do.

With Mrs. McCoy’s permission he did share some things about Prissy Princess Tween Supreme Privileges and Regal Responsibilities. For one thing, instead of only doing their Prissy Princess community service they were allowed to work certain sorts of jobs part time under close supervision so they would have a little of their own spending money, though most of their pay would go to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club general fund as a contribution to their tuition. For instance, if their mother was a lawyer a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme might work in her office as an assistant to her personal assistant. If their mother ran a hotel, they might work as a junior maid assisting the housekeeping staff. In almost any workplace a role of this sort could be found suitable for the Prissy Princess Tween Supreme skillset.

Most Prissy Princess Tween Supremes, however, would join the Champion Girl and Prissy Princess Babysitter Band and work under the supervision of a Champion Girl partner. The Babysitter Band was designed as a way to train Prissy Princesses for their ultimate goal in life, taking care of the children of their Champion Girl spouse. At the same time, the Champion Girls would learn how coddle, protect, and oversee a Prissy Princess in a simulated family scenario as practice for their later role in marriage.

The Babysitter Band would also be used as a form of outreach to the public for the programs. Their services would be provided at low cost or for free to families who could not afford to pay for childcare so traditional families not used to Prissy Princess and Champion Girl gender roles would have reason to hire them on.

The Champion Girl and her Prissy Princess Tween Supreme partner were forbidden to try and directly persuade the children they babysat to see gender roles their way. They did not want to anger the traditional parents who had very different ideas. However, it was hoped that their example might indirectly rub off on some of the children and get them used to the idea of what the future would be like and that seeing what an effective, responsible, and child pleasing team they made might even convince some of the more progressive parents to start making changes of their own for their children.

A Prissy Princess Tween Supreme babysitter made an excellent playmate for any small child and for many traditional girl older children as well. They also loved to play with any child who enjoyed arts and crafts or games heavy on imagination like playing house or dolls. In these cases the Prissy Princess would do almost all of the work, relying on his Champion Girl partner only to take charge if there was an emergency or if some form of discipline was required.

With older children, uncorrected traditional boys especially, the Champion Girl would take a larger role, playing video games or practicing sports together, or helping with their math homework which was way over the head of a ditzy and vacant Prissy Princess Tween Supreme.

Shawna and the other Prissy Princess All-Stars soaked in all of this information with longing and desire. All of them agreed they were incredibly excited to one day join the Babysitter Band. Every Prissy Princess loves babies and children. Most besides Shawna already had extensive practice overseeing a Prissy Princess Pottypants and couldn’t wait to challenge themselves to be the best little babysitters they could be for older children.

All of them agreed that Junior Miss Tiana was amazing and wanted to be his best Prissy Princess friend. All of them immediately looked up to him and saw him as a role model. All week they watched every little thing he did for any hint of what it was they had to do to earn the title of Prissy Princess Tween Supreme.

In turn, all week Tiana watched his Prissy Princess companions very closely for even the smallest hint of Prissy Princess Bad Behavior. The very moment he saw it, his hand would shoot out and point at them and he uttered the dreaded phrase, “Prissy Princess Bad Behavior!” He took no pleasure in it, but it was his Regal Responsibility as Prissy Princess Tween Supreme and role model for the group. Prissy Princess star pupils had to be held to incredibly high standards to help keep them learning and growing.

Mrs. McCoy and the classes’ Champion Girl overseers had absolute trust in Junior Miss Tiana’s judgement on these matters, so even if none witnessed the behavior besides Tiana the offending Little Miss was spanked and sent to sit on the classes’ pink sandpaper stool with the pink conical Prissy Princess Bad Behavior hat upon their head. Before the first day of their retreat was through, the Prissy Princess All-Stars started to police each other in the same manner. All of them were pointing fingers and pronouncing Prissy Princess Bad Behavior while looking to Junior Miss Tiana for the final judgement of what to do. Sometimes he would be lenient if the offense was very small or unintentional, but for major crimes like violating PPPC or deliberately doing or saying something the way a traditional uncorrected boy might there was no other option but to get Mrs. McCoy or a Champion Girl for a spanking session.

There were no hard feelings among the group because of this self policing. They all knew they were simply doing what was moral and upright to help each other learn and grow so they could all mature into Prissy Princess Tween Supremes themselves one day. Among some of the local Prissy Princesses there was some grumbling that the Prissy Princess Tween Supreme who always pointed out their mistakes now had a group of fawning little imitators who made it almost impossible to avoid daily spankings. However, the grumbling itself led to spankings and soon behavior in the class markedly improved.

As the week went on, Shawna saw that everyone in the class save himself and Junior Miss Tiana had suffered at least one spanking. He saw all of his Prissy Princess All-Star companion’s hard earned Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes ribbons downgraded from platinum to gold or from gold to silver. Junior Miss Tiana was now the only one in class left with a platinum ribbon on his sash.

Shawna went out of his way to be the best behaved Prissy Princess it was possible to be. He was the newest Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes because he had only recently joined the Prissy Princess Correctional Club in the first place. All he had was his Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes bronze ribbon. A single slip-up could cost him everything. If he did Prissy Princess Bad Behavior he would not be downgraded to a lower Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes tier, he would no longer be a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes at all and would immediately and instantly be removed from the group of Prissy Princess All-Stars.

The entire class, especially Junior Miss Tiana, was incredibly impressed with his successful commitment to maintaining his status. Though every Little Miss was trying to earn Junior Miss Tiana’s favor, it was clear from the second day that he had begun to see Little Miss Shawna as his main protege and he constantly kept Little Miss Shawna by his side to give him instruction and advice. Even though he was so new to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club, it was clear that he was a phenom and one of the top contenders to be the next to graduate to Prissy Princess Tween Supreme. If a Prissy Princess could complete their Prissy Princess Trial Period in a single day, anything seemed possible for them. That’s why it was so shocking to absolutely all of them, Little Miss Shawna more than anyone else, that on the last day of the retreat mere moments before participation was set to commence in Shawna’s most anticipated event, the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball, Shawna made an unforgivable mistake and his worst nightmare came true. He lost his Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes status.

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WOW, YOU MADE IT, A JUNIOR MISS PRISSY PRINCESS TWEEN SUPREME! HOORAY! BUT REMEMBER JUNIOR MISS, YOU STILL HAVE A LONG WAY TO GO BEFORE YOU WILL FINALLY BE READY FOR A CHAMPION GIRL SPOUSE SO ALL OF YOUR DREAMS CAN COME TRUE!

In your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme workbook, write about what you think it will take to earn the privileged status of a Prissy Princess Dream Extreme. Just think, one day you’ll reach the peak of Prissy Princess maturity and earn the title of Prissy Miss and the privilege to wear clothes suitable for a modest and moral old fashioned traditional girl of up to the age of seventeen! Wow, that’s so mature! Your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme friends will be so jealous! You’ll get to go on dates with Champion Girls and one day you’ll be married. Can you believe it, you, a Prissy Mrs. with little babies all your own and a Champion Girl spouse as head of the household? Dreams do come true! In your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme art book, draw a picture of what your Prissy Princess Dream Extreme wedding dress might look like. ;)

Chapter 10: Prissy Princess Cuddleball Calamity

On the second to last day of the retreat, Little Miss Shawna sat on the bleachers in the school gymnasium and looked down in delight at the playing area, which in its current heavily padded configuration was officially designated a “Cuddleball Coliseum.” Before the commencement of participation in the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball on the final day of the retreat, the Prissy Princess All-Stars were attending the intramural Cuddleball participation for the Clearwater school to cheer on the local Prissy Princesses.

Champion Girls had dragged into position the Cuddleball playing surface, a heavily padded pink mat that matched the dimensions of a standard basketball court. At what would be midcourt stood a padded pink pedestal and upon it stood the game’s eponymous object, the cuddleball itself. It was a large, fluffy, stuffed pink ball. It had a battery powered vibrating core and multi-colored christmas lights criss-crossed around it and flashed in different dizzying patterns. A large white circle was marked on the mat around the cuddleball pedestal.

In the four far corners of the Cuddleball Coliseum the Champion Girls placed four large foam pink and white painted barrels full of glittery purple and green water balloons.

A regal fanfare played, and the Prissy Princess Cuddleball commencement began. As the local class skipped onto the Cuddleball Coliseum floor led by their local role model Junior Miss Tiana, Shawna turned to his left and squealed in happy anticipation. Beside him sat Baby Miss Antonia, who he had spent the entire week tickling and snuggling and cuddling and smothering at every possible free moment. “Wow, aren’t you so jealous that a Prissy Princess Pottypants isn’t privileged to participate too?” Antonia rolled his eyes and shook his head but Shawna had already turned his attention back to the Cuddleball Coliseum. Besides the visiting Prissy Princess All-Stars and school staff, some parents were in attendance as well. Most of the school’s Champion Girls were also present to show their support because coddling the Prissy Princesses was one of their responsibilities, but many lamented and complained about the requirement. They felt that the game made a mockery of sports and competition, which were very important to them. How could something be considered a sport if it had no winners, no losers, no points, and not even any judges? Other Champion Girls just laughed and said to let the Prissy Princesses have their fun.

Each Prissy Princess carried a bag containing a doll, a fluffy white and pink striped towel, and a large fluffy white and pink pillow. They wore extensive padding and protection. They wore glittery pink helmets similar to a bicycle helmet. They wore hard plastic safety goggles to protect their eyes. They wore pads on their elbows and knees. The helmet and pads had an additional transparent pink inflatable layer of padding as well. They wore pink socks and glittery pink and white velcro sneakers. Only Junior Miss Tiana’s sneakers had laces.

They wore striped white and pink t-shirts and those who had earned them already wore their Prissy Princess sashes as well. They wore short pleated pink skirts over regulation white frilly panties. The skirt and t-shirt had extra padding sewn in, making them all look a little less slim and waifish, but it was deemed necessary to protect the delicate little dears and keep them safe. Cuddleball was, by Prissy Princess standards, a rough game.

Under the supervision of two Champion Girls, Junior Miss Tiana led the group in stretching and calisthenics to warm up. The regal fanfare played again, and participation was set to begin. Cuddleball is separated into four periods. The first three are eight minutes long each with four minute cooldown periods between them. The final is untimed and continues until full participation is reached.

The first period is called “Dolly Catch.” The Prissy Princesses pair up and stand across from each other. They toss their dolls to one another as fast as they can, trying to keep them both in the air at the same time to achieve an effect similar to juggling. If one of their dolls touches the ground, the two Prissy Princesses will pair off with someone else. The ditzy Prissy Princesses frequently drop the dolls, but this is not considered a failure at all. There is no failure in Cuddleball, only fun. Switching places is considered an opportunity to have more fun by participating together with a greater number of Prissy Princesses. During the four minute cooldown period, the Prissy Princesses hug and cuddle with their dolls and apologize profusely for playing with them so roughly.

The next round is called “Pillowfight,” which requires little explanation. Prissy Princesses laugh and squeal and run around the Cuddleball Coliseum as they whack each other with their fluffy soft pillows. During the cooldown period Prissy Princesses pair off and hug and cuddle with a pillow between them to confirm the activity was all in good fun. Prissy Princesses abhor any actual violence.

The third period, “Water Balloon Fight” proceeds similarly. Cuddleball participation spectators are encouraged to bring a plastic poncho if they intend to sit in the front rows as Prissy Princesses are not well known for their ability to aim.

The cooldown period consists of soaking wet Prissy Princess hugs and cuddles and a brief toweling off period before the final round, “Cuddleball Prime.” In Cuddleball Prime the Prissy Princesses each stand along the white circle surrounding the cuddleball pedestal. Hands are linked around the circle if there are enough Prissy Princess participants present.

A Champion Girl overseer picks one of their names from a hat to participate first. The first participant skips forward and picks the cuddleball off its pedestal and hugs and cuddles with it for thirty seconds. When hugged with just the right tightness, not too firmly and not too softly, the cuddleball begins to hum and vibrate and the Prissy Princess sighs with contented delight. When the cuddleball is vibrating the Christmas lights begin to flash more quickly and vibrantly as well.

The participant is then blindfolded and they spin around for twenty seconds before tossing the ball in the air and yelling, “Cuddleball!” The participant then falls to the ground laughing from dizziness and fun before being escorted out of the playing area and into the Participant’s Circle to await the participation trophy ceremony.

The participant that catches the cuddleball or is nearest to where the cuddleball lands picks it up and hugs and cuddles it for thirty seconds as well before repeating the process.

Shawna was absolutely entranced by proceedings. The game just looked so fun. There was no boring sitting on the bench and waiting because everyone got to play the entire time. There was no worry that he might strike out and his mistake would cost his team the game because nobody won or lost. There was no rivalry or anger at opponents because there were no opponents and everyone was rewarded for participation in exactly the same way. There was no worry or stress about possibly getting hurt because the safety precautions were so extensive. He absolutely could not wait for his opportunity to participate the next day. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind, Cuddleball was much better than baseball for a Prissy Princess like him to play. He was so excited to play Cuddleball the next day that he got very little sleep that night, which was likely the unfortunate cause of his later extra ditzy Prissy Princess Bad Behavior that would cause all the trouble.

Later that day after the intramural Cuddleball participation was complete and participation trophies handed out, he stood in front of the entire Prissy Princess class, both visiting all-stars and local Prissy Princesses, to give a final Prissy Princess report about what he had learned during the week. It was a group project and he was partnered with Little Miss Polina and Little Miss Ameera, who wore a pretty pink and white headscarf that matched the Prissy Princess school dress perfectly.

The topic assigned to the group was on the importance of Prissy Princess Polite Correctness, Diversity, and Inclusivity. The three took turns and talked extensively about how much they had learned from each other and the rest of the Prissy Princess All-Stars from around the world during the week.

They talked about how each one of them was a perfectly unique snowflake and just as special and unique as their Prissy Princess special unique titles were but how they were all united together in following the ways of the PPCC. To the delight of a beaming and proud Mrs. McCoy, they concluded their presentation, “We may come from different countries and have different colored skin,” Little Miss Polina said.

“We may have been raised in different faiths,” Little Miss Ameera said.

“We may have come to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club for different reasons,” Little Miss Shawna said.

They continued to take turns speaking, “We may have different strengths and weaknesses.”

“Some of us are a little more slim and waifish and some of us a little less.”

“Some of us are a little more ditzy and vacant and some of us a little less.”

“Some of us are more sweet and yielding and nice like xylose and some of us are still a little more hard and rough.”

Junior Miss Tiana nodded and smiled with approval at that part.

“Some of our images are more kawaii and twee and cute and some of us a little less.”

“But the important thing is.”

“We’re all Prissy Princesses helping each other together.”

“So if we include everyone no matter what we look like.”

“No matter where we’re perfect and where we need to improve.”

“And treat everyone with perfect Prissy Princess Polite Correctness and respect.”

“Then we can achieve perfect Prissy Princess harmony.”

All three spoke the final lines together, “So no matter how different we may seem from the outside, we can all come together and help each other follow the Prissy Princess Guidebook. That way, we can all think and feel and act exactly the same, like perfect Prissy Princceses. That’s what Prissy Princess diversity, inclusivity, and PPPC is all about!”

The three curtsied and beamed with pride as the entire class applauded them. The three hugged and took their seats so the next report could begin.

The next day Shawna was absolutely shaking with excitement and delight. In the gymnasium locker room Junior Miss Tiana had to help him don his Cuddleball uniform and protective gear because he had no experience with the equipment and was too ditzy with exhaustion and anticipation to figure it out.

As Tiana finished dressing him, breathing heavily from helping multiple Prissy Princesses including Shawna to inflate their protective padding, he complimented him and his partners for their report.

Shawna smiled in happiness at the positive attention and turned to his two partners who were helping each other inflate their pads. “Thank you so much, Little Miss Ameera. Thank you so much, Little Miss Polina. You were the best partners ever!”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Little Miss Shawna!” Ameera said.

“Thank you, Little Miss Shawna!” Polina replied as well.

Shawna turned back to Junior Miss Tiana and hugged him tightly. He looked up at his role model with nothing but pure admiration and awe and made a horrible error. “And we could never have done so well without your help too, Little Miss Tiana!”

There were gasps. All activity in the locker room froze and there was a sudden chill in the air. In horror Shawna covered his mouth with his hands, desperate to have the words back. “No, I’m sorry, I meant Jun…” Tiana’s trembling finger pointed at him, a disbelieving and shocked look in his eyes. Shawna fell silent. Around the room every Prissy Princess All-Star stood in that same pointing pose with that same look of shock in their eyes.

“Prissy Princess Bad Behavior,” Tiana said in a quavering voice. The rest of the all-stars repeated the words.

Mrs. McCoy stood looking down on him, a look of severe but sad disappointment in her eyes. “Shawna, you know what you did.”

Shawna stood shaking with emotion. His face showed a horrible pained frown and a trembling lower lip. His head fell in complete defeat and he stared down at the ground as his tears began to fall. His self-esteem was crushed. He felt like he was six inches tall. He couldn’t believe what he’d done.

They all heard the regal fanfare that meant it was time to enter the Cuddleball Coliseum.

The Cuddleball spectators were shocked and confused when instead of happily skipping onto the playing surface the Prissy Princess All-Stars entered the gymnasium in a subdued manner. Some were holding each other’s hands and consoling each other, their tender Prissy Princess feelings clearly in a state of distress.

Behind them all Mrs. McCoy led a horribly distraught Little Miss Shawna by the hand to the center of the gymnasium directly by the cuddleball pedestal. A Champion Girl brought her a folding chair and a microphone. The gymnasium fell totally silent as Mrs. McCoy spoke, “Little Miss Shawna has engaged in Prissy Princess Bad Behavior. He has lost his Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Bronze Status, and as such is no longer eligible to participate in the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball.”

Shawna sobbed as his bronze Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes ribbon, the symbol of one of his most significant Prissy Princess achievements, was removed from his sash. His Cuddleball uniform pink pleated skirt was pulled up. His frilly white panties were pulled down. He took his place over Mrs. McCoy’s lap with the entire school and visiting guests watching. The microphone was placed in front of his mouth and he was forced to announce what he did and apologize in front of everyone.

“I referred to Junior Miss Tiana as Little Miss Tiana. I violated PPPC by not showing proper due respect to a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme. The words we use matter very much. I’m very sorry,” he concluded.

The spanking began. Shawna sobbed but not from the physical pain. He was in anguish at his own stupidity and carelessness. He was angry that he had let his Prissy Princess All-Star friends down, especially Junior Miss Tiana. He was devastated that he was still not going to get to participate in Cuddleball like he had dreamed of. All this was because of one stupid, careless, unintentional violation of PPPC. He had gone from Prissy Princess All-Star to a snivelling, crying wreck being punished and shamed with the whole world there to see.

When his spanking was complete he was led with his panties still around his ankles to a pink sandpaper stool and forced to sit facing the corner so he wouldn’t even get to watch the festivities in the Cuddleball Coliseum. He was handed his copy of the Prissy Princess Correctional Club Guidebook and told to re-read the chapter on PPPC.

He sat primly and dead still as all Prissy Princesses learned to do on the painful seat. Shawna cried as he turned the pages of the book he had already fully memorized and loved with all of his little heart.

When the regal fanfare played to announce the start of Dolly Catch, instead of the sound of dolls fluttering through the air and happy giggles of delight, he heard something else.

“But I don’t wanna participate without Little Miss Shawna,” a voice said.

“He’s never gotten to play before,” another whined.

Shawna stopped reading and froze.

“He doesn’t have anyone to participate with at his school, this is his only chance.”

“He was just being ditzy, he loves PPPC more than anyone. Let him participate, Pretty Prissy Princess Please.”

Shawna stopped crying. He couldn’t believe what was happening. His friends were standing up for him, clearly risking spankings and Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes status demotions of their own. He loved his Prissy Princess All-Star friends with all of his heart. None of the boys he ever knew when he was still uncorrected would ever do anything like this for him. Nevertheless, he knew they were wasting their breath. Violating PPPC could absolutely not be excused.

From his corner, he spoke loudly so everyone could hear, “No, please don’t do this! The Prissy Princess Guidebook says being ditzy is never an excuse for Prissy Princess Bad Behavior. Prissy Princesses are always ditzy, if they could use ditziness as an excuse they would have an excuse for anything.” He heard the protests cease.

He went back to reading. He heard the doors to the gymnasium open and close and nearby he heard voices explaining what was going on. He continued to sniffle and cry as he read.

All of a sudden he felt a hand on his left shoulder, rubbing it warmly to console him. And then he felt a hand on his right shoulder, rubbing and consoling.

The hands withdrew, and from behind him on his left in a familiar British accented voice he heard a defiant shout, “LET HIM PLAY!”

From behind him on his right he heard an identical shout in an identical voice, “LET HIM PLAY!”

In stereo behind him he heard the two voices join together and begin to chant, “LET HIM PLAY! LET HIM PLAY! LET HIM PLAY!” In moments all of the spectators joined in.

His heart felt like it was going to explode from his chest. Tears of joy instead of grief and humiliation came to his eyes. His tender Prissy Princess feelings were completely overcome with love and adoration. His Knights In Shining Armor had come to save their favorite little Ditzy Damsel. The Twin Tormentors were back from Space Camp and here to save the day.

As the crowd chanted the one on his left picked him up off the stool. The one on his right pulled his panties back into place. The triplets hugged, “I love you! I love you! I love you! Best mates forever!” Shawna shouted.

He looked to the one on his left, “Thank you so much, Miss Diane.”

He turned to the one on his right, “Thank you so much, Miss Karen.”

Diane, the one on the right, pulled up her shirt to show him the mark. “What a ditz you are, Dolly Destroyer.”

Karen, the one on the left, added, “Wow, Shawny, we come all this way to watch your first Cuddleball match, find you up to your neck in a proper mess of trouble, and you don’t even recognize your best mates?!”

Shawna blushed at the very rare miss and repeated his thanks to the correct girl this time. Luckily, that light hearted teasing they gave him was the extent of their reprisal ever since they had promised to stop bullying him.

Karen and Diane led him back to the center of the Cuddleball Coliseum. Mrs. McCoy regained control of the crowd of students. The gymnasium was silent as Mrs. McCoy pronounced her judgement. “I’m sorry, Little Miss Shawna, and I’m sorry everyone. But Little Miss Shawna absolutely may not participate. The rules set forth in the International Cuddleball Convention make it very clear that Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes status is an absolute requirement to participate in the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball. However, I don’t think there would be any harm in allowing him to watch. I’m confident he’s learned his lesson.”

Karen and Diane put their hands on their hips and looked at her crossly. There were some mutterings from the bleachers. Little Miss Shawna, however, could totally understand. The teacher could not let the inmates run the asylum, it would be chaos. He decided to take what he could get. He bravely put a smile on his face. He urged the other Prissy Princess All-Stars to have fun and told them he would love to cheer them on. He moved to the bleachers with the twins and took a seat near Baby Miss Antonia. Baby Miss Antonia was glumly staring at the ground feeling sorry for himself and had completely ignored the entire outburst. If anything he was glad to see the insufferable Little Miss Shawna as upset and humiliated as he felt all of the time in this insane school. Little Miss Shawna spoke to him, “Now I know how you feel, Baby Miss Antonia. It stinks not being able to participate. You’ll pass your Prissy Princess Potty Training someday, I know it.” Baby Miss Antonia shook his head, rolled his eyes again, and then ignored him.

The Prissy Princess All-Stars moved back into position again, but before participation could commence Junior Miss Tiana walked back to his mother and teacher Mrs. McCoy along the sideline. “Mommy,” he said, “I did Prissy Princess Bad Behavior too. As a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme it was my job to be a good role model. If someone as nice and well behaved as Little Miss Shawna could screw up something as simple and important as PPPC, it means I must have not done a good enough job.” He reached to his Prissy Princess Tween Supreme sash and removed his Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes platinum ribbon and handed it to his mother. “And I don’t deserve to call myself a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes if I let down my friends.”

His mother smiled down at him in pride and pulled him in for a close hug. In several moments all of the rest of the Prissy Princess All-Stars were lined up behind him to do the same.

“What’s happening?” Karen asked.

“What’s the point?” Diane pondered.

But Shawna understood exactly what was happening. His heart was beating out of his chest once more. He loved his Prissy Princess friends. They would do anything for him, even sacrifice Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes status. They were giving Mrs. McCoy a way out without having to break any of the rules agreed to by the Prissy Princess Board of Directors.

When all of the Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes had turned in their ribbons, Mrs. McCoy addressed the gymnasium yet again. “I’m sad to announce that since there are no qualifying participants present, the first World Participation Cup of Cuddleball must be cancelled. We’ll try again next year. But our Prissy Princess All-Star guests didn’t get to participate in our intramural game yesterday, and they’re here already all dressed up and ready for participation. I don’t see why we can’t have a second intramural game instead. After sound spankings all around for Prissy Princess Bad Behavior of course!”

Shawna screamed with glee and started to mince back towards the Cuddleball Coliseum while each Prissy Princess All-Star was handed off to a different Champion Girl for discipline. Halfway there he stopped and turned around. He went to the bleachers and grabbed the arm of a struggling, protesting Baby Miss Antonia and assisted him in toddling towards the playing area as well. “Mrs. McCoy, I know Baby Miss Antonia really wants to participate as well. I know a little baby Prissy Princess Pottypants can’t understand the rules and would just get in the way, but why don’t we give him a closer view so he feels like he’s part of the group?”

Shawna pointed towards the pedestal with the cuddleball perched atop it. Two Champion Girls lifted Baby Miss Antonia onto the pedestal and set the cuddleball in his lap. He glared daggers at Little Miss Shawna but Shawna was certain that as the boy sat there hugging the vibrating ball he could see a hint of a smile or giggle from behind the pacifier that was quickly concealed by the boy.

“Every Prissy Princess loves Cuddleball,” Shawna thought, “It’s the best game in the world!”

Little Miss Shawna had never felt so proud as when he stood together with his Prissy Princess All-Star friends in the Participant’s Circle after the match and received his participation trophy for intramural Cuddleball. It wasn’t the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball, but he had to start somewhere. He was just bursting with self esteem and felt like he was ten feet tall. He had finally done it. His lofty Prissy Princess athletic dreams had come true. He was officially a Cuddleball participant!

The Prissy Princess All-Stars stood together and posed for a picture with their participation trophies. They would treasure that moment and that picture for the rest of their lives. The group promised to become Prissy Princess Pen Pals and keep in touch and they all followed through, especially with Little Miss Shawna who they knew was lonesome at his newly founded school.

Shawna led a soaked, and not just from being hit by poorly aimed water balloons, Baby Miss Antonia away from the pedestal. He gave Baby Miss Antonia another tight hug and said he would miss him most of all. He again reassured the Baby Miss that he now thought of like a little sister that he would pass his Prissy Princess Potty Training soon enough and then earn his Prissy Princess Tiara and Sceptre and Sash.

Shawna was very dejected that he had to leave his Baby Miss friend behind and not see him until the next Prissy Princess star pupil retreat in a year. Fortunately for him, he would actually get to see Antonia again much sooner than he thought.

-

AS A MATURING PRISSY PRINCESS TWEEN SUPREME YOU MAY START TO BE FEELING CERTAIN FEELINGS TOWARDS YOUR CHAMPION GIRL ACQUAINTANCES. BUT REMEMBER YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS TWEEN SUPREME ABCs. C IS FOR CHASTITY. D IS FOR DECENCY. M IS FOR MODESTY. P IS FOR PURITY.

As a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme you will naturally be jealous of your much more mature Prissy Princess Dream Extreme role models. But their Prissy Princess Privileges like going on dates in beautiful dresses and dancing and snuggling with Champion Girls are not for you. As a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme you will be privileged to dress up and attend a special Prissy Princess Purity Ball with a family guardian or teacher instead. In your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme workbook, write about the importance of purity and patience. Your Champion Girl spouse will desire a loyal lifetime partner to coddle and protect, not a faithless Prissy Princess who gives his heart and his purity to any Champion Girl who asks for it. In your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme art book, draw a picture of what your ideal Champion Girl spouse might look like. But remember, your wedding day is far away, Junior Miss. ;)

Part 3: Antonia’s Big Day

Chapter 11: Prissy Princess Training Tandem

A month later, Little Miss Shawna danced with ecstatic glee and squealed with delight, unable to contain his happiness. His tender Prissy Princess feelings of loneliness had significantly eased since the retreat thanks to the friends he made and their openness to being diligent Prissy Princess Pen Pals, but he knew there was still something missing from his life as a Prissy Princess all alone at his school.

When his mother told him he would finally be getting a Prissy Princess classmate that news alone was enough to send him into the stratosphere, but when the day of his arrival came and he saw who it was that waddled into his Prissy Princess classroom he could not help but dance and shout and sing.

“BABY MISS ANTONIA! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!” He ran and hugged the other boy.

Antonia cringed. “Oh God,” he thought, “Why couldn’t it be anybody but him?” But there was no other choice, the plan required he be here at this particular school. He would go along with the insanity for just a little while longer and soon his big day would come and all of this would be over for good. He could go back to being who he truly was.

When he had received the smuggled message from his father he had never been so happy. He had been doing everything he could to resist and never give in but it was starting to look like he had been abandoned to his fate. But he knew his father loved him too much and had way too much pride to let this horrible imprisonment stand. It wasn’t even just pride, it was self preservation. If “The Family” ever found out that the Don, Ten Ton Tony, had let his son Tony Jr. be forced to wear diapers and baby dresses and his father did nothing to stop it, the loss of face would be deadly. In their world, any minor sign of weakness could lead to revolt and this would be a major one. Tony Jr., his young son, had been groomed since he was five years old to one day take over control of The Family.

Instead of a regular schooling he was learning to be a boss who could take control of some of the most violent and vicious men in the history of organized crime. His father never made things easy for him and wanted him to be able to handle himself in any situation. Ten Ton Tony wanted his son to be street smart, so he would often leave the boy alone in the city to take care of himself and find a way home as a test. Tony Jr. had extremely nimble hands and became an excellent pickpocket. He was never caught in the act.

His father had been using his connections to very discreetly find out what he could about the insane organization his stepmother had sent him to, ostensibly “For his protection.” The only reason he needed protection in the first place was she had decided to betray his father and go to the FBI. His father was forced to go into hiding and she had engineered it so that Tony Jr. was not with him when the news broke. Otherwise, he would have taken his son with him. One day he knew she would pay for that. He hoped he got to take part in it himself.

She was an old friend of his mother, who had died several years earlier. She had started dating his father mere weeks after the funeral and Tony Jr. absolutely hated her. He resented the idea that she thought she had any right to act like a parent to him even before she had decided to imprison him in the PPCC.

At first she had sent him to a private boarding school, but he was a terrible student since his father had been keeping him out of school to teach him the ways of The Family since he was so young. Instead of studying he started selling drugs in the school. A boy had overdosed on some heroin he had sold, luckily the boy had survived. The Family had to pay a lot of money to placate the boy’s parents, but his involvement was successfully covered up.

That’s when she sent him to the PPCC instead. His distraught stepmother said that was where she should have put him in the first place. He didn’t care at the time, one school was as bad as another, or so he thought. He had no idea that the PPCC was a very different sort of school.

The smuggled note told him he needed to transfer to a different PPCC school for the plan to work, one much closer to his father’s safe house. He couldn’t move around much with the FBI on his trail, but he would have to carry out the rescue himself because he couldn’t let anyone else know what Tony Jr. had been up to for the last seven months. If anyone knew what Tony Jr. had been doing the fact that he had been forced wouldn’t be any excuse. He would never take over The Family then, he’s be lucky if they let him live.

He cringed thinking about all of his daily humiliations. At least they would never find out about the worst of it, how every single day he was given a choice of an enema given to him by a Champion Girl and then time on the potty, or to wear dirty diapers and wait for a change instead. He tried to tough out the dirty diapers at first, but the smell and the horrible disgusting feel was too much. At least the enema could be over quickly, but he had difficulty looking the Champion Girls in the face anymore. Humbling him, he knew, was the point.

When Mrs. McCoy had performed the weekly ritual of removing his pacifier gag to ask him if he was ready to start doing Prissy Princess Good Behavior and try Prissy Princess Potty Training, he finally agreed to go along with the program and stop resisting. For the escape plan to work he would need the use of his hands, which meant he absolutely had to pass Prissy Princess Potty Training to get the horrible debilitating gloves removed. The plan left him no choice but to also beg to be transferred to Little Miss Shawna’s school. Mrs. McCoy agreed to the proposal. Shawna had taken an obvious shine to him and paid him a lot of loving attention, and soon after Baby Miss Antonia had apparently finally had a change in attitude. It seemed like Shawna was a good influence on him, and Shawna desperately needed the companionship anyway.

“Hello, Little Miss Shawna, I missed you very much,” he mumbled and added a submissive curtsy. He was still sucking on a pacifier and required to keep it in his mouth at all times, but it wasn’t tied tightly in place to gag him anymore so he was able to speak around it, though it was always in a babyish and drooling manner.

“Wow, you’re doing Prissy Princess Good Behavior now! I’m so proud of you! And you made it in to Prissy Princess Potty Training! You can do it! Wow, don’t you feel so mature? My little Baby Miss friend is growing up! We’re going to have so much Prissy Princess fun together!”

Baby Miss Antonia had gone through some changes since Shawna had last seen him. He still wore the ridiculously short, babyish version of the Prissy Princess school dress but no longer wore the bonnet. He now wore much less thick training panties underneath his plastic panties instead of diapers. The booties that prevented him from walking had been removed and replaced with regular baby booties that allowed him to walk by himself. The gloves that debilitated his hands remained. On his bib beside where his name was embroidered there was now a white ribbon with gold lettering proclaiming him a Prissy Princess Potty Trainee.

“Little Miss Shawna,” he asked with the pacifier he was forbidden to remove outside of meals still making everything he said sound mumbly and babyish, “I have a favor to ask you.” He curtsied. He cringed with the horrifying humiliation of having to bow and scrape to the ridiculous hated sissy in front of him. He promised himself he would have his revenge one day. He wanted to wring the little fags neck.

He walked forward, his gait having picked up an involuntary babyish bow legged waddle from months in thick diapers that he didn’t even notice was still present. He curtsied yet again and held out a gold ribbon with white lettering. “Little Miss Shawna, will you please privilege me to have you as my Prissy Princess Potty Trainer?”

Shawna gasped in delight, “Me? Oh, wow! Of all the Prissy Princesses in the world you came all this way because you wanted your role model Little Miss Shawna to help you learn to use the potty! I’m so happy! Of course, Baby Miss Antonia! I would do anything for my Prissy Princess friends, especially you!” Shawna pinned the ribbon proclaiming him a Prissy Princess Potty Trainer on to his sash next to his newly re-earned Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Bronze Status ribbon.

The Prissy Princess All-Stars had all received their bronze ribbons again a month after the retreat, along with many other Prissy Princesses who earned them for the first time. All of the all-stars had gone back to their schools with inspiration in their hearts. They wanted to be the best behaved Prissy Princesses they could be and act as role models like Junior Miss Tiana did so one day they could be a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme themselves. It rubbed off on the rest of their Prissy Princess classmates. Diligent and friendly finger pointing pronouncements of Prissy Princess Bad Behavior were now a regular presence in every class just as Junior Miss Tiana had taught them.

The Prissy Princess Board of Directors considered the retreat a smashing success, despite the debacle of the cancellation of the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball. It would be an early black mark on the history of the participation that was designed to become the international showcase participation for the game. It was even worse when the next year at the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball Junior Miss Polina would tear his ACL in a freak accident while skipping over to pick up a dropped doll during Dolly Catch. This resulted in the cancellation of that participation as well. It was the first and only injury in the entire history of organized Cuddleball. The tender Prissy Princess feelings of the Prissy Princesses in attendance were thoroughly distraught, as Junior Miss Polina was a much beloved role model to many of the Little Misses.

Even the Champion Girls were distraught by the incident. None had ever learned how to coddle and protect a Prissy Princess suffering from a Cuddleball injury because such a calamity was generally regarded as an impossibility given the extensive safety precautions that were the hallmark of the sport.

The Prissy Princess Board of Directors would consider abolishing the event. It seemed cursed and also some argued the restrictive participation qualification requirements went against the spirit of the game. Nevertheless, the third World Participation Cup of Cuddleball would be a smashing success. It was considered one of the most exciting and classic participations of all time and featured the long awaited exultant return of Junior Miss Polina to the Cuddleball Coliseum after he bravely faced his surgery and rehabilitation, always with a smile and a jovial attitude.

“Thank you, Little Miss Shawna,” Baby Miss Antonia replied with another curtsy, “I also brought you something. It’s a gift from Junior Miss Tiana.”

“A gift from Junior Miss Tiana for me?! Oh, Wow! Thank you so much, Baby Miss Antonia!” Shawna opened the present and inside was a book. He opened the book and on the first page there was a note.

“Hello, Little Miss Shawna!

I miss you and think about you every single day. I’m so happy that you have a new Prissy Princess classmate to be your Prissy Princess friend day and night. Baby Miss Antonia can be a handful. I hope you can be a better role model for him than I was able to be. I could never seem to get through to him.

I guess you still don’t have enough Prissy Princesses for a Cuddleball game, but just you wait! I’ll participate with all my heart every game for the both of us until then. I wish I was there to be a role model for you in person.

This was my favorite book when I was a Little Miss like you. I hope you like it and love it and keep it in your heart forever!

-Love, Junior Miss Tiana
PP ;) TS
PZX”

The second to last line was underlined.

When Shawna finished reading the note he exclaimed, “Oh wow, Junior Miss Tiana’s favorite book! Can you believe it, Baby Miss Antonia? Let’s read it right now!”

“Yes, Little Miss Shawna,” Antonia replied and followed the boy to sit on the pink carpeted floor.

The cover depicted a group of three cartoonishly cute crabs with little crowns on their head. They were on a beach below a cliff with a romantic shining white castle above it. There was a white crab, a pink crab, and a light purple crab. They looked longingly up at the castle together. The title of the short illustrated book was “Prissy Princess Crabbies and Clown.”

In the story three cute little Prissy Princess Crabbies are walking along the ocean floor looking for some of their favorite treats to eat. The first three pages introduced the trio.

“‘I want some seaweed!’ said the first. He was Little Miss Crabalia, the Prissy Princess Crabbie of Pink Seaweed Summer.

‘I want some caviar!’ said the second. He was Little Miss Crabinia, the Prissy Princess Crabbie of Purple Caviar Cuteness.

‘I want some algae!’ said the third. He was Little Miss Crabomia, the Prissy Princess Crabbie of White Algae Angels.”

Shawna smiled as he read the rhyming words and Antonia did his very best to pretend to be paying attention,

“They looked and they looked, the three and the twee. They looked under a rock. They looked under the sand. They looked under a shell. But no food was at hand.”

Then, in the shallow water by the beach one little crabbie sees a nice cozy little house that seems completely abandoned. When they go inside, they find it full to the brim with their favorite sweet treats like algae and seaweed and caviar. They make this cozy little house their new home. No longer are they forced to wander around scavenging and struggling for food, now they have a nice comfy place where they fit in just right with their Prissy Princess Crabbie friends.

However, every day at low tide when the little house sits on the beach, they look up and see a supremely beautiful shining white castle that’s sized for a giant. Every day they see people going to the castle for parties and feasts. But the Prissy Princess Crabbies are never invited.

One day, the cute little house gets lifted straight out of the ocean by a giant Champion Girl clown wearing bright yellow boots and bright yellow overalls with a jovial, smiling painted face and a silly oversized wide brimmed floppy cap.

The scared little Prissy Princess Crabbies scream in fright, but the clown only points to the castle and replies, “‘No worries my dears. No need for your fears. To a party we go.’ The crabs all did cheers.”

As she carried them along in their cute little house, the clown explained that she was the court jester for the queen in the castle. She said that the queen had been looking down on them and admiring them ever since they moved in, but that she wasn’t quite sure they were ready to make the trip up to visit her in the castle. It was a long, hard road for such cute little creatures and they needed to learn and grow until the time was right.

The Prissy Princess Crabbies assured the Champion Girl clown that they were up for the trip and they had desperately wanted to go before, but they just hadn’t known how to get an invitation.

Soon, however, the cute little crabbies started to get afraid. They had always wanted to go to a party at the castle that overlooked their beach, but they had never been so far from the water. Everything they saw was strange and new to them.

“‘I’m scared!,’ said the one. ‘Afraid!’ said the other. ‘I want my Mom,’ asked one for his mother.”

The jovial clown just laughed. “Alone you’re all weak, all scared and afraid, but together you’re strong, it’s just how you’re made.”

The three little crabbies took heart and remembered that good Prissy Princess Crabbies know the most important thing is to take good care of their Prissy Princess Crabbie friends. When Little Miss Crabalia became frightened and tried to sneak out the door, Little Miss Crabinia took him firmly in his cute little claws and gave him a hug. When Little Miss Crabomia lost heart and tried to sneak out a window, Little Miss Crabalia pulled him back in. When Little Miss Crabinia tried to sneak up the chimney, the other two each lovingly took a claw and pulled him back to safety.

In that manner they all managed to stay in the house as the friendly, happy clown carried them all the way to the castle. The castle was as marvelous and amazing as they could imagine and the clown took them for an audience before the queen. Admiring of their Prissy Princess Crabbie courage and friendship, the queen lauded them.

“Twee Little Crabbies! What a fun little sight! You’ve traveled so far, throughout all this night. A supreme feast we shall gather, to warm and delight. You’ll sleep snug in your beds, your dreams without fright. Tomorrow perhaps, a nice bath for you three, then together we’ll toast, your great victory!”

Shawna smiled as he closed the book. He squealed again with happiness, “Oh, I can see why Junior Miss Tiana loves it so much. It’s all about Prissy Princess friendship and the courage to help your Prissy Princess friends and the pictures are so cute! I love a happy ending! I wish I could be a Prissy Princess Crabbie and visit the queen too!” Shawna started to crab walk around the room, giggling. “I could be the Prissy Princess Crabbie of…hmmm....do crabs like cupcakes, Baby Miss Antonia?”

Antonia wanted to throttle the little idiot again. The plot made no sense, the hack author’s attempts at rhymes were lazy and half baked at best, and the illustrations were the sort that could only entertain a five year old. But this little bimbo moron Shawna was in love with it. However, he had no choice but to pander to him. Simperingly he said, “I loved the book too, Little Miss Shawna. Can we read it again?”

“Oh, Baby Miss Antonia! Of course we can!” Shawna crab walked back and immediately picked it back up.

Antonia tried to pretend to listen again but halfway through just ended up staring at Little Miss Shawna, the perfectly prim most prissy of princesses. Nothing about him really suggested he had ever grown up as a real boy aside from a few tiny hints you could see here and there in brief moments. Shawna was one of the so called Prissy Princess All-Stars. They were the ones who were most enthusiastic about and loyal to the PPCC. Some of them knew they were stuck in the PPCC and just acted the part for the little perks you could get over the other Prissy Princesses, some had just been born the type of boy for whom the life of a Prissy Princess was actually an attractive prospect, and some had been broken like Little Miss Shawna. Although most assumed he must have actually been in the second category to “break” so fast.

Earlier he was wearing his absurd purple and white little girl ball gown because Antonia’s arrival was a special occasion full of regal pomp. Now he had changed into the comparatively simple pink and white Prissy Princess school dress. He now wore his long, shiny black hair in the most absurd of prissy styles. He had two identical pigtails on top of his head. Each pigtail was separately twisted into a ball shaped knot with the tail of the pigtail dropping down from the balled-up hair. On the side of each of the bun like knots was a small white and lavender lace bow with a purple gem shaped like a cupcake in the center.

Little Miss Shawna stopped reading and noticed Baby Miss Antonia staring at his hair. Shawna was smiling at him in absolute glee. “Do you like it? I just learned how to do it and I wear it this way all the time now! I think it looks fab!”

Shawna went to the closet and retrieved something from his book bag. Antonia didn’t know what to make of it. It was a comic book, something weird from Japan. The blonde schoolgirl on the cover was the obvious inspiration for Shawna’s hairstyle though. “It’s called Sailor Moon! Little Miss Himari sent it to me. He translated it himself for me and he says there’s a show for it too that they’re going to dub in English! I can’t wait!”

Prissy Princess Crabbies forgotten, Shawna now started to show him the comic. It was at least a little more interesting than the book had been, but Antonia still got bored. He stared at Shawna’s hair again and the instant he did Shawna stopped reading and looked at him with a proud smile again.

Antonia blushed. “How do you even do that?” he asked looking at the complicated knots, “Did your mother help you?”

Little Miss Shawna dropped the comic book with a look of glee on his face. “Of course I’ll teach you, Baby Miss Antonia!”

Antonia groaned. He had just been trying to make conversation to keep Little Miss Shawna happy. He needed to be doing Prissy Princess Good Behavior if he was ever going to get out of the gloves. “Thank you, Little Miss Shawna,” he replied as Shawna dragged him over to a mirror to sit down.

Little Miss Shawna tied Baby Miss Antonia’s hair into the knotted bun like pigtails, but because his black hair was shorter than Shawna’s there was no tail of hair beneath the ball like knots. This gave Baby Miss Antonia a much more babyish, juvenile look. Shawna put two white lace ribbons on each of the buns. Shawna explained everything he was doing as he went, but it was impossible for Antonia to try it himself in the gloves.

“I know you really want to be able to do it yourself so you can look like me, Baby Miss Antonia. But you’re too immature. Let’s make sure to get you through Prissy Princess Potty Training as quickly as the Prissy Princess Guidebook lets us. No more wetting your panties, okay Baby Miss Antonia?”

Antonia contained his anger at constantly being talked down to by a boy who behaved like a five year old girl. “Yes, Little Miss Shawna, thank you Little Miss Shawna, no more wet panties,” he curtsied as he replied.

This is the sort of thing Prissy Princesses did during their school days, especially those who did not yet have a full time teacher. Shawna’s mother, Cindy, and the twins largely allowed Little Miss Shawna to guide Antonia on his own. Little Miss Shawna knew practically everything a Little Miss needed to know already and thoroughly enjoyed being a role model for a Baby Miss.

For the next two months Antonia endured the nearly unendurable. Little Miss Shawna was his constant companion day and night nearly twenty-four seven. One of the few times he was alone was when Shawna went on outings with his Nana.

Shawna seemed to revel in bossing him around knowing Antonia had no choice but to do what he wanted. PPPC made it very clear who had to show deference to who in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club and a Baby Miss Potty Trainee like him was at the whims of his Little Miss Prissy Princess Potty Trainer. It was infuriating being in such a subordinate position to someone like Shawna and having to imitate him as perfectly as he could in every way. The worst part was that even though he was taller than Shawna, his more juvenile version of the Prissy Princess school dress, obvious training panties and plastic panties, slightly more juvenile version of the same hairstyle, and debilitating gloves made it so that even if he did do a good job imitating Shawna he would always come off as a less mature, more babyish parody. He knew it was part of the mind games they were playing with the Prissy Princesses. They were trying to make it so that physical stature was not perceived as a source of power or superiority. Power came only from your place in the hierarchy.

Every day when their ballet tutor came he had to see himself in the mirror with bulging training panties beneath his tights and leotard while Shawna looked more grown up. Knowing the psychology behind the mind game didn’t make it any less humiliating. Antonia knew he had to stay strong. His big day would come.

The Family had similar chains of command and showing respect up the chain was just part of the deal. He grew up being taught to respect those chains and know his place. He never thought his part in any hierarchy would be to dress up as a toddler girl and be bossed around by a dimwitted sissy though. He was born to be at the absolute peak of the pyramid in an organized crime family, and now we was below the foundation of the pyramid an insane school that tried to force boys to act like parodies of little girls.

They had set up a crib for him in Little Miss Shawna’s room in the house separated from the school, a perk Shawna enjoyed because his mother ran the place. It made sense because the Prissy Princess dormitory would be empty besides him, and also because as a Prissy Princess Potty Trainee he would need permission from his Prissy Princess Potty Trainer to use his potty so Shawna would need to be close by at night.

Submitting to Prissy Princess Potty Training led by Little Miss Shawna was the most degrading, emasculating, and humiliating thing he had ever had to do, and could ever imagine doing. Any time he felt the urge to go, or any time Little Miss Shawna decided he should try to go, he had to ask in as loud and clear and girlish a voice as he could, “Please, Little Miss Shawna, may I try to use my potty?”

And then Little Miss Shawna would guide him by the hand to the potty, which during the day was set up in the Champion Girl classroom. Little Miss Shawna would pull down his plastic panties and training pants and he would sit on the pink glittery potty chair in front of everyone. The chair was larger than a real toddler’s potty chair but still designed to be just small and awkward enough to make him feel tiny and immature and uncomfortable.

He had never felt like less of a man, even when he was very little and was being doted on by his real mother and his Nonna on his mother’s side. His father had put a stop to all that though.

He had always been raised to be tough because his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and take over The Family one day. Since he was five, he was never, ever again coddled or treated like a child. He was barely ever allowed to see his mother and Nonna and when he did he was taught to treat them like underlings. They were women and he was a man, even if his age didn’t suggest it yet.

His father’s attitude towards women was completely disdainful and violent. His Nonna and even his current stepmother had tried to warn his mother to stay away from the dangerous man. His mother, though, was sucked in by the glamour and the money and the bad boy attitude. She quickly realized she had made a mistake when he took Tony Jr. away from her. She had tried to take him to court but Ten Ton Tony had more than just expensive lawyers on his side. According to The Family, his mother’s death was a suicide resulting from depression. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t true. His father would certainly have been capable of killing her if he wanted to. He couldn’t rule out his stepmother either, considering how quickly she stepped into his mother’s place by his father’s side, but it was easy to believe the suicide story was true.

By the time it happened, Tony had already started to embrace his Dad’s attitude towards women as things to be used and he refused to care. To his mind, she had abandoned him by taking the easy way out. He was being taught to be rough and violent and hard as a solid oak tree. When his Nonna died of old age and he had no connection to the old times that became easier and easier. That’s why he had so far successfully resisted his insane PPCC curriculum when he saw so many others give in.

During his Prissy Princess Potty Training, if class was in session he was forced to listen to recordings of nursery rhymes and singing or lectures on Prissy Princess Good Behavior recorded by Shawna’s sister Cindy who usually acted as their teacher. They didn’t want him to hear what was going on in the Champion Girl classroom even if it was something as simple as algebra or basic geometry for the younger Champion Girls. All he had to protect his modesty was a doll in his lap or his copy of the Prissy Princess Pottypants Guidebook instead. The Prissy Princess Pottypants Guidebook wasn’t much of a read, considering it assumed its readers to be illiterate. And he couldn’t even turn the pages in the gloves anyway.

He prefered the doll, it covered him up better and he hated how the vapid book left glitter all over him every time he touched it. The decision was up to Little Miss Shawna entirely. Little Miss Shawna would leave the room and set a timer for ten minutes.

It was even worse if class wasn’t in session. In that case the Champion Girls would surround him and mock him while he had no choice but to take it, led chiefly by those horrible twins with the grating British accent Little Miss Shawna was was always affecting. When all of this taunting would finally start to get to him, Little Miss Shawna would join in by reacting like he was just scared of the potty.

“Oh, don’t cry, Baby Miss Antonia! The potty won’t hurt you! We all use it, it’s not that hard! You can do it, I know you can!”

The two twins would laugh and put their hands on his shoulder and join in with the mock encouragement in the same infuriating voice. It was like they were triplets. He hated having to sit across from the three of them for every meal while they treated him like their baby little sister. He had the feeling that in a normal school nobody else would ever sit with them. They sat shoulder to shoulder with the twins slightly leaning in over Shawna protectively. They were always huddling in and whispering together and laughing at private jokes, or making up plotlines for the dumb comic Shawna was writing about them. Even though Antonia was around the trio all the time, because he was always around Shawna, he always felt like he was on the outside looking in. Not that he wanted in, of course. Mealtimes became one of the few times besides sleep where he could be alone with his own thoughts.

Though not as protective as the twins, none of the Champion Girl’s behavior towards Little Miss Shawna was ever mocking. All they did was coddle and protect Little Miss Shawna. It was part of their hierarchy again. Antonia wouldn’t earn the right to be coddled and protected until he was ready to pass his Prissy Princess Trial Period. Until then he was considered an uncorrected boy and completely fair game. In fact, mocking him was openly encouraged. The Champion Girls delighted in nothing more than taking someone from the gender considered superior or stronger outside those walls and mocking and emasculating him until he accepted his new role as a subservient Prissy Princess in frilly dresses and panties.

He knew this from his old school in Florida, but it was even worse here. Shawna had shown up for his first official day of class with his Prissy Princess Trial Period legendarily passed in just one day. They had never had a chance to work someone over like they were doing to Antonia. Though, by the way Shawna reacted to his sister and the twins, Antonia suspected he had unofficially been worked over by them long before that day and that was the true reason he had broken so quickly.

His father had taught him a lot about respect and the various forms it can take. There was no doubt that at least a portion of Shawna’s respect for the twins and particularly his sister was tinged with fear and anxiety, not just the love and adoration for them ever present in his puppy dog eyes. There was a history there, he was sure of it.

Some of the girls in Clearwater had eventually gotten bored with the game, not here. The mockery was constant and non-stop. It was creative and horrible. And yes, sometimes it made him cry like the toddling girl they dressed him as.

He didn’t let that bother him. His father had made him watch grown men cry before. He said there are certain situations where even the toughest of men will cry. What made a man in The Family was loyalty. Cry all you want if someone is peeling back your fingernails, but say nothing about family business. Never let them break you, no matter what. Antonia’s torture was more psychological than physical. He would have preferred the fingernails. He wouldn’t have cried through that, he told himself.

His only consolation was that he knew one day very soon his big day would be here, and all of them would pay. All of them.

Two months after his arrival, having successfully completed Prissy Princess Potty Training by going two months without wet panties, Little Miss Antonia was finally free of the hated gloves and ready to put his plan into action. Little Miss Shawna was delighted to have earned another patch on his sash for successfully training a Prissy Princess Pottypants and promised Little Miss Antonia he would do everything he could to help his Prissy Princess friend successfully pass his Prissy Princess Trial Period this time.

Little Miss Antonia’s crib in Shawna’s room was replaced with a small bed that sat beside Shawna’s large canopied bed where the sissy slept like a baby every night what that antique doll of his clutched to his chest. Antonia constantly had difficulty sleeping because of the frustration and humiliation and stress, but not Little Miss Shawna. The worst part was Antonia knew that one of the reasons he couldn’t sleep was that he still missed his pacifier. He had been forced to use it for so long that he had developed a strong oral fixation on it.

All Antonia could think of was escape. He had to bide his time a little first so he kept up the facade of Prissy Princess Good Behavior. His hands were weak and he didn’t think they would ever have the dexterity they used to, but he could still pull it off. He had to. It helped that the first task Little Miss Shawna had set him at was learning to tie his hair into the knotted pigtails. His hands felt useless and awkward at first but eventually he got it.

He was now retying the pigtails into Little Miss Shawna’s hair every morning and untying them at night. It took him multiple tries each morning because the knots sometimes confused him, or he didn’t make both pigtails exactly identical in size and appearance. The pigtail trailing down on from each knot had to be exactly the same length. Little Miss Shawna, it appeared, had an attraction to symmetry.

He was allowed one chance each morning to tie his own pigtails, and if the results were bad, as they usually were, he was stuck wearing them for the day anyway so the Champion Girls could mock him for not being quite mature enough to successfully imitate Little Miss Shawna.

Though they now wore identical school dresses he had no sash, a clear sign of immaturity in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club, and couldn’t quite do his hair like his role model could. He also now realized he frequently still waddled like a baby. All of the lessons and drills on walking in mincing little steps like Little Miss Shawna had made him very conscious of how he walked. Being forced to wear the booties that had made it impossible to walk for so long had, even after the switch to plain booties and now little girl shoes, messed with his sense of balance in some subtle way. He was really having to relearn how to walk from scratch. And he realized now he was going to have no opportunity to relearn walking like a boy, he was immediately going to learn how to mince like Little Miss Shawna instead. It was going to take a long time after his big day to get back to normal. He hoped his father would understand what he’s been through and give him that time. He didn’t want to think about the alternative.

The plan was to wait until Little Miss Shawna had his Prissy Princess Special Therapy with his sister. They had never subjected Antonia to this procedure for some reason, but he had watched the sessions play out with the other Prissy Princesses the same way over and over. For around twenty-four hours after therapy, even the most fanatical of the Prissy Princesses would be severely distraught and much more in touch with their uncorrected past. Only Junior Miss Tiana had ever seemed unperturbed by them.

Little Miss Shawna seemed to take them even harder than others, probably because of whatever history it was he had with his sister. Directly after Prissy Princess Special Therapy would be the only time Antonia could get through to him. The effects wore off after a day or so and then the Prissy Princess in question always seemed a touch more fanatical than before.

After their communal dinner one night he took his half eaten plate of grilled tofu, broccoli, and rice and threw it out. Because he was considered insufficiently slim and waifish he was allowed to do this, it was even considered Prissy Princess Good Behavior. He hated the vegetarian diet. He would literally, not figuratively, be willing to kill a man for a slice of his Nonna’s beef lasagna and a cannoli for dessert. Forget that, three cannolis. His stomach rumbled thinking of his Nonna’s cannolis. She always sprinkled poppy seeds on top and served them with slices of peach as her personal touch to the traditional recipe.

He was desperately hungry all the time now and he felt weak from lack of calories. Every meal was some new and, to him, boring vegetarian or vegan dish. He was sure other people might like it, Shawna seemed to, and the kitchen staff were excellent cooks, but none of it was for him.

Once the gloves were off, he he did his best to help out in the kitchen along with Little Miss Shawna, but he had grown up on traditional, hearty, homestyle Italian cooking and none of this stuff could compare. The tofu had no texture, the tempeh had too much. The seitan was too salty. The beans were all bad. The lentils were lousy, the chickpeas were chalky, the great northerns made him gassy, the navy beans were nasty, the fava were flavorless.

The veggie burgers lacked vitality. The veggie dogs were, somehow, all of the above.

To him, no matter how well prepared, none of it was food. And the worst part was he had to watch those smug, taunting Champion Girls eat much more hearty fare. He cried the day he had to help make meatballs. The recipe the cooks used didn’t compare to his Nonna’s, but they still smelled like heaven to him.

It wasn’t even just the lack of meat that got to him. His Nonna made some dishes without meat that he would kill for too. A simple baked ziti made using her recipe. He would do anything for a helping. Anything. A single slice of margherita pizza. Ethically sourced organic eggs and cheese were allowed in the Prissy Princess vegetarian diet, but were rarely used because they were expensive compared to normal versions and the cheese was high in calories. They wouldn’t serve pasta primavera. They wouldn’t even serve spaghetti aglio e olio. They avoided Italian dishes on the Prissy Princess menu so completely that he knew it had to be deliberate. They wanted to make him beg for something better to eat and then demand more and more Prissy Princess Good Behavior in return. He wouldn’t give them the pleasure.

Besides maybe his morning slice of rich and savory avocado toast, the only dish he actually really looked forward to was Little Miss Shawna’s Mexican style braised tofu burritos. Whatever he put in that sauce somehow brought the tofu to life with flavor. It felt like a Mexican version of one of his Nonna’s sauces. Of course, he would never give Little Miss Shawna the satisfaction of admitting it and asking him to make them more often. Shawna made it very clear the recipe was a Prissy Princess All-Star secret recipe anyway. Antonia would at least have to earn a Prissy Princess Goody-Two Shoes bronze ribbon to qualify, and he had no intention of staying long enough for that.

He couldn’t stand this place much longer. He had to admit the daily grind was wearing him down. All of the chores. All of the humiliation. All of the bowing and scraping. All of the coloring and playing with dolls and pretending to be a four year old girl. All of the jargon and mantras. Little Miss Shawna knew every one. When he played with his dolls with insufficient enthusiasm Shawna would spout one of them at him. “PPGTM,” he would say. And he would have to reply with either the meaning of the acronym or ask Little Miss Shawna to explain it to him. “Prissy Princess Going Through Motions,” he would reply and play with what looked like more genuine delight.

PPGTM was technically allowed for someone in their trial period because of PPHAM, Prissy Princess Habits Are Reality. This meant the more he acted like a four year old girl the more he really would become one and that’s what the Prissy Princess Trial Period was for. There was even a mantra for a Prissy Princess who complained about mantras, PPTTG, Prissy Princess Trust The Guide.

Little Miss Shawna felt like Antonia had been in the program far too long without earning his sash so he was pushing him hard. Going through the motions was not enough. Little Miss Shawna’s favorite mantra was, of course, PPHSP. He urged Antonia to repeat it endlessly, but it never gave him the comfort Shawna claimed it would. He was proud of himself for resisting. He had pieced together that PPHSP was what had broken Little Miss Shawna on that first single day. On the other hand, he had been in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club in one bottom tier rank or another for nearly a year without breaking. If not for his escape though, he was beginning to worry that one day he might.

He smiled to himself with relief, because he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about that much longer. He looked across the dining room and saw Miss Cindy standing over Little Miss Shawna. Shawna quickly pushed aside his plate of tofu as well. Little Miss Shawna was considered appropriately slim and waifish for his height and frame and was eating at maintenance calories. He was required to finish his portions so he did not become unhealthily slim and waifish. He was even spoiled with two full slices of avocado toast each morning.

There was a look of fear in Little Miss Shawna’s eyes as he took his plate back to the kitchen and put it in a leftover container to be finished later. Antonia recognized that look of fear and knew it was time. On his way back to the kitchen he very carefully slipped the ID card out of a Champion Girl’s pocket. He was always watching their cards knowing that he would have to act fast when the time came. He knew where each of them kept them in their identical uniforms and who was attentive and who was less so. He also knew their schedules and how likely they were to wander off the grounds randomly. He took an ID from a Champion Girl not likely to go to the gate and realize their ID was gone any time soon.

After the Prissy Princess Special Therapy was over Shawna was very much not his usual self. It took a practiced eye to see it because PPGTM was so ingrained in Shawna that it was essentially reflex, but later than night when he heard the crying and sobbing from the bed beside him where Shawna usually slept in blissful peace, he knew it was time to put his plan into action.

He crept over to the bed and to the other boy’s side. Shawna looked up at him. “Hi,” he said, “My name’s Tony.”

Shawna looked up at him and started to speak, “Prissy Princess B…” He stopped. His pointing finger dropped. “Shawn.”

“I can get us out, Shawn. By tomorrow night,” he said with total confidence.

A look of fear came over Shawna’s eyes, “You don’t understand, my mom is a judge. She has connections with the police. There’s nowhere to go. Just do PPGB. I’ll go easier and let you PPGTM some more. It’s not so bad. I love it here. I don’t want to be a DDID.”

Antonia couldn’t believe it. Even with a clear chance of escape, even when in touch with his past, Shawna still wanted to stay. He saw the fear in Shawna’s eyes. “No, you don’t understand,” he said and tried to sound tough. It was hard because he was so used to adjusting his voice up an octave and trying to sound like a four year old girl, “My father is Ten Ton Tony.”

Shawna looked at him in confusion.

“The mob boss. Law enforcement can’t touch The Family. It doesn’t matter what your mother does. He has the entire FBI after him and they’ve got nothing. He’s going to take us out of here and we’re going to be men again. We’ll be best friends, just like you always wanted. He’ll give us new identities and let us go somewhere where we can start over.”

“I can’t be a man again,” Shawna replied sadly. “I forget how. I mean, I remember that I used to be a boy. It’s not like I’m a different person. I just don’t feel that way anymore. The boy part of me is gone. That’s what PPST is for. It really does feel better this way, eventually. I wonder why they haven’t given you any...”

“Yes, you can!” Antonia told him. “You can be a man! Look, it’s going to take some time for me too, but we’ll do it together. I’ll watch your back and protect you. We’ll have total privacy and all the time we need. Don’t you even want to try fighting back? Just once? Be a man, Shawn.”

Antonia could tell that there was finally a spark of some sort of conflicting emotion in the boy’s face and he continued to plead, “And look, honestly, if it turns out you want to come back, we’ll let you come back. We’ll blindfold you so you can’t tell anyone how to get back to us and just bring you right back. Don’t you even want to try? Just to make sure this is really what you want?”

“But I fit in here,” Shawna whimpered.

“You can fit in somewhere else. This isn’t the only place in the world to fit in. You’re a nice person and you’re good at drawing and art and imagination and people like you. Can’t you imagine any other life besides the PPCC where you would be happy?”

Shawna only shrugged.

“And look, I DON’T fit in here. I never will. They won’t ever break me,” he said with less confidence than he felt.

He continued, “If I don’t get out I’m just going to go back to fighting them and they’ll have to make me a Prissy Princess Pottypants again. Is that what you want for me?”

Shawna shook his head. “Nobody ever liked me before the PPCC, well, nobody but the twins. But even they weren’t very nice to me back then. But, but maybe things could be different, I don’t know. I don’t want you to be a Prissy Princess Pottypants again.”

That was as close as Antonia expected he could ever get to agreement. “You know the code for the phone. I’ve seen them let you use it to call your Nonna. All you have to do is make one call. I’ll give you the number. Just hang up as soon as they pick up. And then, tomorrow when you go out with your Nonna, drop this outside the gate.” He handed him the ID card he had stolen, “Please, please, make the right choice. Just wait till it sounds like everyone else is asleep, and go make the call.”

Antonia went back to his bed but he didn’t sleep. Later that night he heard Shawna quietly pad from the room. This was the moment of truth. In a few minutes either he was one step closer to freedom or they would storm the room to put him back in diapers.

When Shawna returned he was alone. “I made the call,” he whispered. “Thank you so much, Tony. I never even dreamed this was possible or I would have...I would have fought my mummy and my sister like you fought instead of giving up in one day. I wish you were around back then.”

Antonia smiled and for the first time in months he slept soundly.

The next day he watched the gate from a window as Shawna walked towards it. He saw him successfully drop the card without anyone noticing. Now it didn’t matter what Shawna did, he was going to be free. And sure, he would take Little Miss Shawna with him. But this time, he would be in charge. He couldn’t wait to beat the little fag into a pulp.

As Little Miss Shawna and his Nana had tea together she seemed to sense there was something different in him that day. “Is there something wrong, Princess? You seem distracted. Are you nervous about something?”

He looked up at her, “No, Nana. Everything is just fine,” he said. Shawna felt awful about being forced to lie to her, he had never done so before because he felt such a genuine closeness with her, but he had promised to keep everything about the plan a secret.

The old woman still felt there was something off. Shawna hugged her especially tightly when they were saying goodbye as they returned to the school and almost had tears in his eyes. It was almost like he felt this was a real goodbye and not a, “See you next week.” Shawna was terrified about what he had done and who his friend Little Miss Antonia really was and what Shawna had agreed to get mixed up in.

Later that night, Ten Ton Tony and his men, foreign contractors he had contacted from outside The Family so the humiliating story about what his son had been up to would not spread, left their dark SUV that was parked across from the school grounds. One of the men retrieved the card and the gate opened. They moved in to storm the house. Little Miss Antonia's big day had finally come.

-

(A PICTURE OF A BABY FINGER PAINTING)

:p

Chapter 12: Prissy Princess Extra Special Super Duper Double Platinum Friendship Finale

As the men entered the school grounds, all of a sudden the gate closed behind them.

Then, there were multiple explosions of deafening sound and blinding light. They dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, shocked by the flashbang grenades. They had walked directly into an ambush.

The noise shocked the two boys and Antonia knew the moment had come. He was finally free, his big day was here, any second now. Shawna cowered in the corner in terror.

His father’s men rushed into the room. But wait, he realized, the black clad figures with their faces covered by black ski masks had distinctly feminine shapes. They searched the room briefly than gestured for someone to come inside. In walked Shawna’s mother, his sister, and those awful twins. Behind them two of the black masked women were frog marching his handcuffed and pacifier gagged father into the room as well. Behind them all walked the woman he hated with all of his heart, his stepmother. The woman who had tried to take his mother’s place after her death. The woman who had sent his father on the run when she went to the FBI. The woman who had sent him to the PPCC. The woman who had destroyed his family and his life.

“PRISSY PRINCESS BAD BEHAVIOR! PRISSY PRINCESS BAD BEHAVIOR!” a red faced Shawna shouted and pointed at Antonia. “YOU WERE GOING TO BE A DDID, LITTLE MISS ANTONIA!” Shawna stamped his feet in anger and yelled as loudly as he possibly could, “PRISSY PRINCESS BAD BEHAVIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Shawna sighed in contentment like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, “Wow, it was hard holding that in!” Shawna giggled and the twins joined him. “I had to lie to Nana because Miss Cindy and Mummy said not to tell anyone about our plan and how dangerous it could be. I hope Nana won’t be mad at me. I really hope you’ve learned your lesson this time, Little Miss Antonia. No more PPBB for you, okay?”

Antonia turned towards Little Miss Shawna who was currently being consoled by the twins. Hatred burned in him like an out of control forest fire in a windstorm. “YOU FUCKING RAT!” he screamed. ”I WAS FREE! YOU PULLED ME BACK IN YOU FUCKING RAT!” He charged at Shawna. If he couldn’t have his freedom he would at least go down wringing the life out of that little shit’s neck. Before he got there the twin on the left punched him directly in the nose, blood spurted and he screamed, but not as loudly as he did after she proceeded to kick him in the groin as well. He looked up in his agony and his father was looking at him with a look of pure disdain and disgust. Even with the gag in his mouth the message was communicated very clearly, “I have no son.” Antonia wailed in agony.

Shawna addressed the one who had punched and kicked Antonia, “Miss Diane, you didn’t have to be so rough with him,” Little Miss Shawna complained.

She kicked him again while he was down. “Nobody messes with The Dolly Destroyer while The Twin Tormentors are around.” Antonia realized his nightie and panties were soaking wet. On top of everything he had wet himself one more time.

The other twin pulled him to his feet and gently held his arm, she led him to Shawna’s sister Miss Cindy.

Miss Cindy looked down on him as he sniveled and wailed from the pain and the certain knowledge that he was now stuck here with no chance of escape. “Prissy Princess Special Therapy,” she announced. The twin with his arm led him away while the other one laughed and mocked him for crying and for getting beaten up by a girl.

“Go with them, Cupcake,” Shawna was ordered by his mother. That was unusual, PPST was always one on one as far as he had ever heard.

Shawna felt nervous and scared as they entered the therapy room in the school. This was the place where his sister would drag him out of his PPHSP. In time he learned it was for the best, because it became easier and easier to stay in the PPHSP after every treatment and harder and harder to pull him out. After his last treatment Cindy had said said she doubted it would be possible for her to deliberately pull him out ever again just like she had been told was the case with Junior Miss Tiana. She was right.

The room was spacious but featured very little furniture besides a large wooden desk and two wooden chairs. Cindy took the elevated seat on the far side from the door and Shawna stood dutifully beside her. Antonia was forced to sit in the smaller chair nearer the door as he continued to moan and wail. There were no windows. Shawna’s mother, the twins, and Antonia’s stepmother entered the room as well. They stayed by the door and remained silent.

There were projectors capable of displaying images on all four of the walls, and speakers for sounds as well. On the desk there was always a bowl of what looked like hard candy, in a green wrapper with a black spider on the label. The candy was actually not that hard, as soon as you put it in your mouth it almost instantly melted into a disgusting slimy texture that coated the mouth and could be detected for hours afterwards. It tasted like sour dirt and garbage and made anyone who ate it extremely nauseous.

There was a small device on the table that looked like a piece of medical equipment. A cable coming from the device was attached to Antonia’s chest under his nightie with a suction cup. Cindy had always said that the device was a lie detector or that it had incredible powers to see into his mind. He looked down at the display and saw that it was a simple heart rate monitor dressed up to look like more from the other side of the table.

Antonia continued to sob and wail. Cindy reached into her pocket and slid something across the table towards him. It was a pink pacifier. Antonia stared down at it for several moments before picking it up and stuffing it in his mouth. He was unable to hide the clear relief on his face when he did so. Cindy spoke to him, “We’ll get to you in a minute, but first, a Very Special Prissy Princess Ceremony.”

She reached under the desk and revealed a large gift wrapped in glittery purple wrapping paper and tied in gold ribbon. She gestured for Shawna to open it.

He looked inside. He shivered with delight as he pulled out the object on top and held it up for all to see. “A training bra, for me?” He admired the purple and white lace confection with obvious glee. His eyes opened wide, “But I’m not mature enough for a training bra, not unless…”

He reached into the gift again and pulled out a scroll tied in a purple ribbon. He unfurled the scroll in trembling hands and in a loud and bright voice with a distinct hint of a British accent he smiled and read, “Hear ye, Hear ye!

“This is a very, very special Prissy Princess Proclamation officially endorsed by the Prissy Princess Correctional Club Board of Directors in Clearwater, Florida.

“The holder of this scroll has successfully proven beyond doubt his unflinching and complete loyalty to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club and to the privileged duty of protecting his Prissy Princess friends. With total voluntary willingness he has displayed great personal sacrifice in service to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club and to his Prissy Princess friends.

“In recognition of exemplary performance as a model Little Miss and Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes, the holder of this scroll hereby pledges his loyalty and his lifetime of service, even should it last for a million billion years, to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club. In recognition of this pledge, the holder of this scroll is hereby awarded the august and regal privileges of a Prissy Princess Tween Supreme!

“Henceforth, I shall be known as Junior Miss Shawna, and I’m the Prissy Princess,” he paused for a beat to wink saucily at those in attendance, “Tween Supreme, of Lavender Lace Cupcakes!”

Shawna smiled as all but Antonia applauded him. Antonia seethed in misery. He raged that he had apparently been sold out and betrayed into a permanent role as a Prissy Princess just so Little Miss Shawna could earn a training bra.

Shawna was dressed in the training bra by his mother and he now wore it underneath his nightie and his new purple Prissy Princess Tween Supreme sash. Shawna loved the feeling of wearing the bra. It felt like he was being hugged all the time.

In reality, Shawna had no idea that his actions would be rewarded this way. He was just doing what was moral and what was upright and what was loyal to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club. He had actually seriously considered what Antonia had offered him. Antonia had been right, he could go and give life as a boy one last shot just to make sure this was really what he wanted to be. He could always come back. They were in desperate need of Prissy Princesses to groom for their Champion Girls to marry one day. The Champion Girls enrolled seriously outnumbered the Prissy Princesses.

He would have to spend some time as a Prissy Princess Pottypants when he came back. He would never be a Prissy Princess All-Star invited to the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball again, but he would be nice and snug and warm and happy in whatever role they picked for him.

It wasn’t reward that motivated him to go directly to Miss Cindy with the ID card and telephone number. He had simply thought of those cute little Prissy Princess Crabbies. All he was experiencing was a brief and momentary Prissy Princess Panic before he arrived at the shining castle on the hill, and he had to make sure his Prissy Princess Crabbie buddies made it too. Antonia would thank him one day, he knew it.

He kept digging in his wondrous box of gifts and gasped again at what he pulled out next. The purple and gold glittery cover blinded him with it’s regal majesty. “The Prissy Princess Tween Supreme Guidebook! Ohh, I can’t wait!” He flipped through the book and landed on the Prissy Princess Tween Supreme ABCs. “Wow! I can’t believe they found another word that begins with X that so perfectly describes a Prissy Princess!”

“Now, now, Shawna,” his sister reminded him, “There’s a Little Miss in the room, no sharing of information he’s too immature to handle.”

“Yes, Miss Cindy!” he chirped and dug back into the box.

He opened a small little box with earrings, real ones not clip ons, in the shape of two beautiful purple flowers. Right then and there, his ears were pierced and the earrings inserted. He had never felt so mature and grown up.

There was also his new school uniform including shoes with a two inch heel. Wow, his Prissy Princess friends would be so jealous!

Next, he pulled out a jewelry box which contained two gold bracelets that looked similar to a pair Junior Miss Tiana wore. His mother confirmed they were identical. One was engraved with the word, “Modesty.” The other was engraved with the word, “Decency.” Both words featured in the Prissy Princess Tween Supreme ABCs. He was told he would wear them for the rest of his life as a sign of his commitment to the ideals.

From another jewelry box he pulled out a necklace with a locket. The locket was engraved with the word “Purity.” Another larger box seemed to match the box the necklace came in.

His mother took the key to the locket, which he was told contained another key. His mother would hold the key to the locket until he was married and then turn it over to his Champion Girl spouse. He was told he would wear the locket and the item from the larger box until his wedding day, but that she would hold them for now.

At the next Prissy Princess retreat there would be a Prissy Princess Purity Ball for Junior Miss Tiana, Junior Miss Shawna, and any of the other Prissy Princesses who attained PPTS status that year. They would all receive their lockets and whatever was in the larger box together in another ceremony full of regal pomp. Shawna suspected he would not be the only one who earned the title this year.

Last but not least, he pulled out yet another scroll and opened it with wonder. “Hear ye, Hear ye! This is a special Prissy Princess Proclamation! In recognition of willing assumption of Prissy Princess Regal Responsibility at great personal danger, well above and beyond the call of duty, in the apprehension of a dangerous uncorrected male criminal, in great furtherance of Prissy Princess Correctional Club and Champion Girl Promotion Club long term objectives, the holder of this scroll is hereby awarded...”

Shawna’s eyes opened in surprise. This was something he had never heard of. Even Junior Miss Tiana didn’t have this, “The holder of this scroll is hereby awarded Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes Extra Special Super Duper Double Platinum Status. Henceforth, in perpetuity, by order of the Prissy Princess Board of Directors in Clearwater, Florida, the holder of this scroll is declared “Unspankable.” All corrective physical punishment allowed for Prissy Princess Bad Behavior of any severity shall be a single, firm slap on the wrist. A notice of this status shall be posted in the appropriate venue.”

He turned to Miss Cindy. “Appropriate venue?”

“Bend over the desk, panties down, nightie up,” his sister told him.

“Yes, Miss Cindy,” he immediately obeyed though clearly confused at immediately entering a position appropriate for a spanking after just being declared “Unspankable.”

One of the black masked women entered the room with a tattoo gun. Shawna’s eyes widened in fright.

Miss Cindy smirked at him, “Yes, Shawna, it’s going to hurt. But don’t you think that’s appropriate considering the number of potential spankings you’re dodging? And you don’t want some Champion Girl to spank you by mistake, do you? Just remember this any time you think of doing Prissy Princess Bad Behavior in the future, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Cindy,” he bravely replied.

“Now try and keep quiet even if it hurts, it’s time to deal with your little friend here.”

Cindy turned to Antonia. She took his pacifier from him and picked a piece of the green candy out of the bowl and handed it to him. The lights in the room dimmed. He gagged with disgust as he ate the candy. An image of him as he was just before he had entered into the Prissy Princess Correctional Club appeared on all four walls of the room.

He wore an expensive black suit and stood next to his father. The two were very similar in appearance. Thick and husky with hard looks in their eyes. He was like a miniature version of him. Images of spiders and worms would dance across the pictures so quickly it felt like you were imagining them. Skittering sounds came from the speakers.

He vomited. Not just from the nauseousness from the candy, but also from the sight of himself as he used to be compared to who he was now. He still often walked bow legged like a baby and liked to suck a pacifier. His panties and little girl nightie were soaked with urine down below and above there was a patch of blood from his nose from when a girl had beaten him up with ease. He felt like a completely pathetic feminine little toddler.

Cindy kept showing similar pictures of his recent life before the Prissy Princess Correctional Club.

With the incessant noise of the insects from the speakers and the skittering images on the screen, he started to feel like the bugs were crawling over his skin and he shuddered.

“Yes,” Cindy said, “There they are. Do you know what those are? Those are the parts of you that are still a boy. Prissy Princess Special Therapy is all about finding those parts, and clearing them away so you can be a happy and clean little Prissy Princess made up only of sugar and spice and flowers and fun. I’m going to give you an unusual choice. We’re going to have many sessions together like this. But for today, how about we try something else? Something easier. You’ve had a very rough time of it today, I’m sure.”

From her pocket she retrieved a Prissy Princess Special Treat. She pushed it across the table towards him. “If you want to try something else for today, take it. It’ll help with the nausea.”

Antonia had always refused them before, he saw the way some of the other Prissy Princesses reacted to them. They became airheaded and ditzy and dreamy and vacant and started giggling at nonsense, and he wanted to keep his wits about him. The teachers had just shrugged, if he didn’t want a reward he could have punishments instead.

He realized that the Prissy Princess Special Therapy was more horrible than he could have imagined. He thought he had been the toughest boy in the program to have resisted them so long. Now he realized the truth, for whatever reason, they had been going easy on him. Everyone else was regularly being subjected to treatment like this, no wonder they played ball to avoid any more.

He opened the Prissy Princess Special Treat and ate it. She was right, the nausea significantly receded and he even started to feel hungry. He smelled familiar tantalizing scents of delicious childhood meals and his stomach rumbled before he reminded himself it must be whatever drugs they put in the Prissy Princess Special Treats playing with his imagination.

The images and sounds of insects and worms ceased. The pictures she displayed started to be of him as a younger and younger boy. As each year passed, he looked less and less like a twin of his father.

And then when he saw one picture he broke down in horrible pained sobs. Himself, his mother, and his Nonna around the dinner table, all with happy smiles on their faces.

Across the desk Junior Miss Shawna, despite the pain of the tattooing, looked on bravely and with deep empathy for his friend. “Your tender Prissy Princess feelings are hurt, aren’t they, Little Miss Antonia? Do you need a hug?”

“Yes, Junior Miss Shawna,” he replied through his sobs. He didn’t necessarily see a Prissy Princess when he looked at the picture of him as a very young boy, but his image was certainly closer to that than the monster his father had been grooming him to become at least. He realized now they both were frauds. They ruled with fear and intimidation. They had been taken down by a more intelligent, patient, and ruthless foe. They were nothing but bullies, horrible bullies who made the world a worse place.

One of the women standing by the door walked forward and hugged him from behind and kissed him gently on the head. More pictures flashed on the walls of him as a little boy and a baby with his mother and Nonna.

“Where did you get these?” he asked. As far as he knew his father had destroyed all the copies after his mother and Nonna both died.

His stepmother spoke gently to him, “You forget how close your mother and I were, Antonia. I hid them away, and a lot more of their things as well. I knew one day you would want them, if I could ever steal you away from him for good. I’ve never meant you any harm, Antonia. Everything I’ve done has been for your mother. I married him to help protect you and so one day I could help take him down.”

Realizing who it was that was hugging him he shook his body violently to escape the hug. That horrible woman who had sent him to this place and ruined his life. Or, wait, did he still think that? Suddenly he realized that his time in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club had been as much about deprogramming as it had been brainwashing. His father had brainwashed him into a monster. They were trying to brainwash him into something much nicer, even if it was horrible in its own way.

Cindy spoke to him again, “You must be hungry after all this.” She gestured and one of the masked women left the room and then returned with a plate of food and set it down in front of him.

It was baked ziti. A humongous portion, enough for three people. He smelled it. He looked up at the picture again and tears fell from his eyes. He took a bite. It was just right. It was exactly the same. He sobbed and turned around to face his stepmother, “You saved Nonna’s recipes?”

She nodded at him and smiled. He calmed his crying and he ate until the plate was licked clean. He felt full and satisfied for the first time since he had entered the Prissy Princess Correctional Club. It wasn’t even the huge gluttonous portion that did it, it was the feelings and the memories it brought back. It wasn’t just about taste or about calories, it was about family and community and togetherness.

“Don’t you blame me for putting you in here, Little Miss Antonia,” his stepmother scolded him. “I thought it was the right thing to do from the start. But it isn’t what your mother would have wanted. So I gave you a chance to have a normal man’s life instead, and what did you do?”

He looked down at the ground in horror and shame at having almost caused an innocent boy to die.

“That’s right, you proved exactly why you belong in a place like this where you can’t get into any trouble. You proved why no more men like your father should ever be allowed to rise to power, or even to exist.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he replied, knowing in his heart that she was right that he deserved his fate. Even if he didn’t think he deserved to stay in the PPCC, escape was impossible. Someone would always be watching him, and even another Prissy Princess would immediately turn him in like Shawna had done to try and curry favor for themselves. He couldn’t go anywhere, and if doing so meant ending up a monster like his father was then maybe he was better off in the PPCC.

“Let’s talk plainly, Antonia,” Cindy spoke. “You have exactly two choices now. Your life with your father is over. And his life as Don is over as well. You aren’t going anywhere. You are in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club for the rest of your life. You’re only options for now are if you want to continue on as a Little Miss or if you want to return to being a Prissy Princess Pottypants.”

His stepmother spoke firmly, “Do you understand what is happening today, Antonia?”

“You are taking down my father and giving him to the FBI,” he replied.

“You don’t see yet, Antonia. No, what’s going to happen is you are going to tell me every single thing you know about The Family, which is a lot because your father idiotically toted you along with him everywhere he went. After we deliver your father to the FBI we are going to take The Family in its entirety as well.”

Antonia shook his head in abject fear, “Absolutely not. I can’t testify against the entire Family. If you miss even one of them they’ll find me and kill me, even in here.”

His stepmother shook her head at him. “No, you don’t understand. We’re not taking them all to the FBI. My masked companions and I are going to war. Very quickly and suddenly. The war will be over before they even knew it began. We will have total control and they will have no choice but to obey.”

“But why? If it’s so evil, why not destroy it?”

“The world is changing, Little Miss Antonia. The Family will be a tool, the men will be useful idiots until the women take over the ranks entirely. We’ve already begun to infiltrate the mass media, government, business, and the legal system. But not all power in this world walks in the light. We have to control the underground as well. Even in the dark places, our authority must be total.

“Do you understand now, Little Miss Antonia? Your father was right about the importance of hierarchy and respect. But women are going to be at the top of that totem pole now, in only a matter of decades. It’s time for you to accept your place in the new matriarchy. Do you agree?”

Antonia trembled with fear, the nightmare vision of male subjugation was just too real. He’s experienced it firsthand. In a quavering voice he replied, “Yes, Mommy. I’m a Prissy Princess. That’s my role.”

“Good.” His stepmother handed him a scroll and ordered him to stand. He looked over at Junior Miss Shawna and saw his tatoo was almost complete. On his lower back in the appearance of a rectangular stamp the word “UNSPANKABLE” was written in large purple block like text. And beneath it the words, “By Order of CGPC/PPCC Board of Directors.”

After the tattooing was complete a bandage was placed on Junior Miss Shawna’s back and then Shawna came over to the other side of the desk to watch. His lower back was burning in pain but his tender Prissy Princess feelings were burning with pride in both himself and in Little Miss Antonia, who was finally making the right choices.

Antonia opened the scroll and read. “Mommy, ummm, before I agree, one more thing.” He closed the scroll. Life as a Prissy Princess Pottypants was miserable, but life as a Little Miss wasn’t much better for him. He needed one more thing for his new role to be bearable.

His stepmother crossed her arms, “You’re trying my patience Little Miss. Or is it Baby Miss?”

He cringed in fear but went forward anyway, “Can I please have copies of Nonna’s recipes and help make some of them for our meals? And uhhh, there’s one thing I want to eat every single day to remind me of her. It’s fine if the calories come out of the rest of my portions.”

“Vegetarian?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“I think I can convince the school to allow that.” She smiled at him, “It’s time.”

He nodded and opened the scroll. In a reluctant but resigned voice he read, “Hear ye, Hear ye!

“This is a very special Prissy Princess Proclamation officially endorsed by the Prissy Princess Correctional Club Board of Directors in Clearwater, Florida.

“The holder of this scroll has repeatedly failed to complete his Prissy Princess Correctional Club Trial Period. However, due to a changing of circumstances relating to his willingness to perform exemplary service in furtherance of Champion Girl Promotion Club and Prissy Princess Correctional Club long term goals, his duties of public renouncement of masculinity and commitment to effeminacy have become fraught with potential threats to his life and limb.

“Therefore, the holder shall be allowed instead to make this proclamation of renouncement and commitment in private among witnesses representing the Board of Directors, the Champion Girls, and a Prissy Princess Goody Two-Shoes of at least platinum status who shall vouch for his dedication to the Prissy Princess Correctional Club.

“The holder of this scroll is hereby declared a full and regal member in good standing upon publicly completing this Prissy Princess Proclamation.

“Henceforth, I shall be known as Little Miss Antonia.” He took a deep breath and smiled, hoping his Nonna would be proud of him, “And I’m the Prissy Princess of PEACH POPPY CANNOLI!”

Cindy placed his pink Prissy Princess sash on him, the tiara and sceptre would have to wait.

Applause broke out in the room. With his Nonna’s recipes in hand, his body might still feel starved, but once again his spirit would be nourished. He would share his recipes with his new family and make new memories together. Well, maybe he would hold back the baked ziti unless Junior Miss Shawna agreed to give him his recipe for Mexican style braised tofu burritos in return. He giggled and smiled. He felt like a major weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Junior Miss Shawna hugged him and wouldn’t let go. This time he hugged back.

“I love your special unique Prissy Princess title Little Miss Antonia. And I don’t wanna be mean, but...Little Miss Antonia, that was the worst Prissy Princess Special Ceremony ever!” Shawna broke into laughter.

Little Miss Antonia laughed as well, standing there in a urine, blood, and vomit stained nightie with his hair a mess and his nose bruised and puffing up. “I guess so, Junior Miss Shawna, but I’m going to be a better Prissy Princess from now on. I have a great role model! But who are you to talk? I bet Junior Miss Tiana didn’t do his very, very special Prissy Princess Tween Supreme ceremony in a nightie with tangled hair either!” He stuck out his tongue at his more mature friend.

“Don’t worry, when your Prissy Princess tiara and Prissy Princess sceptre are ready we’ll both have another more formal ceremony. And guess what? Miss Cindy told me we have two new students signing up who will be there to watch. Would you believe they used to be on my baseball team? They got into trouble and their parents remembered my first day and how well behaved I was. They get to come play dollies with me instead of baseball after all!”

The Prissy Princesses held hands as they left the room to head back to bed.

In another room of the school the former Don, Ten Ton Tony, had been stripped, made up, been shaven clean of hair from head to toe, and put in a blonde beehive wig. He was re-dressed as a classic image of a 1950s housewife in a pink petticoated dress with crisp white apron. The Champion Girls had done the work while the women in black masks watched on to enforce his compliance. He looked up and saw his son walking down the hall next to the other little fag. They were holding hands and talking happily about nonsense.

“Do you know what four Prissy Princesses in school means, Little Miss Antonia?” the other one asked. “It’s just enough for official participation!”

The two stopped, looked into each other’s eyes, and hugged. They danced up and down and squealed, “CUDDLEBALL!”

He couldn’t believe what his son had become. He couldn’t believe how he had been forcefully dressed. He went right on not believing it until the car stopped outside the FBI branch office in the middle of the city. That’s when it hit home and that’s when he broke down. In broad daylight, as cameras rolled and spectators gawked, the handcuffed Don of a major organized crime family who had evaded the FBI successfully for nearly a year was shown sobbing as he was frog marched into the building dressed as a parody of a 1950s housewife. Rumors spread that he had been hiding out for all of his time on the run dressed as a woman. These rumors were of course widely believed, because what other explanation could there be?

All of this occured because of a little known program that only appeared in government funding databases as CGPC/PPCC. The program said they were completely willing to give the actual full credit to the FBI because they had the Don’s son in the custody of their rehabilitation program and were concerned for his safety. But behind the scenes in the law enforcement community the truth was known.

He had no choice but to make a deal. His frog marching into the FBI office made a mockery not just of The Family but of organized crime in general. In the general population of a prison he would be a dead man. The information he gave on his own organization proved mostly fruitless. Apparently a new player had emerged and acted swiftly to consolidate power and protect The Family from potential law enforcement threats relating to the capture before the news had even broken. What low level sources they had within The Family claimed that the new Don was a woman, but that sounded like an outrageous rumor to most of the investigators. The Family was known as a very traditionally patriarchal organization.

However, the information he gave on other high level players outside The Family proved extremely fruitful. Ten Ton Tony’s capture would eventually lead to the biggest organized crime busts of the late 20th century. The Family had somehow lost their Don in humiliating fashion and ended up in a significantly stronger position all at the same time. Their competitors all fell like dominoes while The Family continued to lurk elusively in the shadows.

The CGPC/PPCC would of course see significant increases in government funding and a significant boost in stature and influence. Their true goals and true methods, of course, for the time remained obscure outside of certain radical feminist academic settings and the radical feminist enclaves where they built their schools.

None of this, of course, was at all a concern of ditzy Junior Miss Shawna. He sat in his classroom in his new uniform. It was a pink and white short pleated skirt over white tights and pink and white vest over a crisp white blouse. He felt so, so mature in his shoes with the two inch heel.

He had received a slap on the wrist his first day with the two new Prissy Princesses in class for showing off his tattoo when a Champion Girl had asked to see it. Apparently, outside of a spanking which is very rare for any PPTS, intentionally letting Champion Girls into positions where they can take a look at your panties was a big no-no for a modest and decent and pure and chaste Prissy Princess Tween Supreme. Shawna was devastated at being a poor role model by doing PPBB and cried openly in genuine misery when he received his slap on the wrist. Later, he figured it was good for his Prissy Princess proteges to see that just because he was Unspankable didn’t mean he would be able to get away with anything. He may be a role model, but they were all Prissy Princesses together.

A humbled and resigned but also genuinely changed Little Miss Antonia settled well in to the role of a coddled and protected Little Miss. He enjoyed being doted on by the Champion Girls and was becoming almost as popular among them as Junior Miss Shawna was. They all loved his Nonna’s recipe for beef lasagna especially. It was too bad for the rest of the class that Karen and Diane seemed to hog all their attention.

Their two new classmates were still not willing to PPGTM well enough to avoid constant spankings and they still looked at Shawna and Antonia’s finger pointing resentfully instead of thankfully. Antonia did his best to warn them away from more PPBB and explained in great detail how little they would enjoy life as a Prissy Princess Pottypants, but the two still seemed resistant. The two were both sitting on sandpaper stools one day while Shawna and Antonia sat on the carpet of their classroom after each receiving Prissy Princess Special Treats.

Antonia and Shawna smiled vacantly and enjoyed the ditzy and relaxing fog. Shawna combed the hair of his favorite doll, Miss Priscilla, with his fancy ivory comb.

Antonia’s demeanor suddenly turned somewhat serious. Shawna remained more happy and ditzy. Antonia held his friend’s hand tightly. “Doesn’t it ever scare you, though? The thought of letting women take over?”

Shawna giggled, “We didn’t let them do it. They just did it.”

“It doesn’t scare you, the lack of power? Control over your own life?” Antonia asked.

Shawna just shrugged, “Who needs power or control? I’d much rather have comfort and security. If they want to do all the hard dangerous jobs, I say let them. If they want to do all the headache inducing complicated math and thinking, let them do it. I’ll be happy to stay home with my children and take care of my own in peace and comfort. It’s what men always wanted in the first place, to take care of and support their family. This is just a different way to do it. Let the women drill the oil and run the garbage trucks and unclog the sewers if they want. Let them fight the wars. It’s not like they just want to take the high paying cushy safe jobs with all the power and respect and leave men to keep doing all the hard, ugly, dangerous work. Now that would be a true injustice.

“No, Little Miss Antonia, I’m not afraid. I’d much rather be a Prissy Princess and just take care of my kids and my...and my spouse.”

Little Miss Shawna had been doing a lot of thinking about his future Champion Girl spouse. For the first time ever he had encountered a Prissy Princess assignment he had absolutely no idea how to complete. He knew his Prissy Princess Tween Supreme assignments would naturally be more difficult. But this wasn’t the sort of challenge he was supposed to be facing. He would stare down at his empty artbook and read the assignment over and over again. His tender Prissy Princess feelings were in a tempest.

The next day, he read the assignment again, “In your Prissy Princess Tween Supreme art book, draw a picture of what your ideal Champion Girl spouse might look like.”

He sketched. At first it was easy. He knew what his ideal Champion Girl spouse would look like. He always did. He knew what her face would look like. What her hair would look like. How tall she would be. What her body would look like. What her feet would look like. He knew every single detail. All except one.

He had drawn the figure lifting her shirt slightly. And that’s when he got stuck. He whispered to himself, “Decent. Moral. Upright. Pure.” He tore out the page and started over.

“Decent. Moral. Upright. Pure,” he whispered again. Despite the taboo, despite knowing he was violating at least four Prissy Princess or Prissy Princess Tween Supreme ABCs, he followed his tender Prissy Princess feelings. He drew the second figure beside the other, working painstakingly to render them accurately and identically. As he drew he realized his sister was wrong about why he could tell them apart. Once he put it on the paper the very slight differences were exaggerated just enough that for his eye it was easy to tell them apart. And he knew deep down why he could do it. It wasn’t fear, it had never been fear. He labeled one girl Karen and one Diane.

Then, he drew another picture. This one he drew in the art style of the Japanese comic books Little Miss Himari had introduced him to that he was imitating for his own comic book. This one was of the three of them. The image he created caused him nothing but pain to look at. He labeled both girls again.

He took the artbook with him and walked to the Champion Girl classroom. He knocked politely and waited for the soundproof door to open for him. He asked for Miss Karen and Miss Diane. They could see his tender Prissy Princess feelings were acting up and they led him outside for privacy and fresh air.

“I might be doing Prissy Princess Bad Behavior,” he said. “I need Champion Girls to tell me what’s right. But first, I want to show you something.”

He showed them the first drawing, the one drawn in the comic book style. It depicted The Twin Tormentors in full superhero outfits, but instead of fighting crime to rescue The Dolly Destroyer, they stood over him laughing and mocking. They had pulled the pettipants that were part of his costume to the ground in front of all the demons and monsters of the patriarchy they usually fought.

The Dolly Destroyer’s mask was slipped off and beneath it you could see tears of pain and humiliation in his exaggeratedly large doe eyes. “Why?” was the only line of dialogue.

The twins looked down at Shawna and saw the same expression in his face, the same doe eyes, the same tears of confused pain and humiliation. Then they realized that for Shawna embracing the nicknames he had given them and they had given him wasn’t just a laughing matter. It wasn’t just water under the bridge. It was a defense mechanism. He still carried the pain of their bullying with him every single day. He joked about it to mask the pain, but like the mask on The Dolly Destroyer’s face it had now slipped off to reveal the truth.

When he had entered the Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place so rapidly, they realized, he had been doing it in part to escape that pain. But it had stayed with him.

The twins did something Shawna had never seen them do since they became Champion Girls. They broke down in tears. Not in the way they used to when they played the victim to get their way. But for real. They cried because they realized that there would always be a part of Shawna that would be unable to let that pain go. He would have to live with it. And it was their fault. Champion Girls were taught responsibility in a way their own family hadn’t taught the little girls. They had inflicted terrible pain on someone they now realized was as precious to them both as anyone in the world. Someone they only wanted to coddle and protect.

The pain had persisted even through Prissy Princess Special Therapy. A Prissy Princess was supposed to be clear and clean of all the bad feelings they associated with being a boy. But Shawna’s pain had survived, because his pain wasn’t caused by being a boy who was bullied by girls.

His obsession with the twins wasn’t caused by fear like his sister, so brilliant and sure of her grasp of his psychology, had said. It was caused by being bullied by two people he loved. He had loved them since the first day they transferred into his class. He was already the outsider, and it looked like they were set to be outsiders too. The other girls mocked their accents and immediately assumed they would be stuck up and bossy, and the boys just avoided girls in general. Only Shawn had tried to be nice to them that first day and ask about what it was like where they were from and why they moved. He told them about the school and their town. They were friends at first, for real, because they had nobody else and Shawn had been nice. He couldn’t even remember how or why they had eventually turned on him.

The twins stopped crying. They apologized once again and promised it would never happen again. They offered nothing by way of explanation for their actions. They stood nervously, as whatever he wanted to show them next had to be something very important to him if he had wanted them to remember the pain they caused him first.

He showed them the assignment in the book with instructions to draw his ideal Champion Girl spouse and with trepidation shared among the three, he opened the artbook to the other drawing. He did this one in a more realistic portrait style. However, he very slightly exaggerated every subtle difference the twins themselves saw every time they both looked in a mirror. Now they popped out and were highlighted in detail making them look ever so slightly more distinct. There was no doubt, it was something nobody had ever done. Not even Shawna himself in his little comic book. He had drawn them as identical where they were identical and unique where they were unique. It was distinct enough that even a stranger could use it to tell them apart if they had it as a guide without needing the birthmark.

He drew them standing up for him in the Cuddleball Coliseum in their Space Camp uniforms with stomachs both covered. Their hands pointed defiantly in the sky. He labeled one Karen and he labeled one Diane. He laughed, knowing that at the time he had failed to tell them apart when they had then turned around to help him off the stool. Now he knew he would never fail to tell them apart again. Now he could consciously see what his subsconscious alone had previously picked up on.

It wouldn’t be possible to draw them like that out of fear. It was like what Little Miss Antonia had kept saying about cooking and family. When the twins looked at the drawing, it was nourishment for the soul. Sharing and creativity was a gift that brought true friends and family closer together. If you were open and genuine enough to bare your soul with an audience small or large, you could take that pain you feel inside of you, or that love and joy, and you could make it physical and real so people could see it and share in it. And when you take the pain out of yourself that way, and you see people can understand and empathise, well it starts to hurt a little less.

The three hugged tightly.

“Are you suggesting, Shawny, what I think you are?” Karen, the one with the slightly quirky smile that always hid a hint of a laugh just under the surface asked.

“Why not?” Shawna asked. “They’re short on Prissy Princesses anyway. Either they share or the Champion Girls find someone from, well, outside. They won’t like that. It’ll cause trouble. They’ve been promised Prissy Princesses who know what their Regal Responsibilities are and are fully ready to take them on, for real. Uncorrected men aren’t ready for that, even the ones who think they are wouldn’t like it when they found out the Champion Girl isn’t playing games with them about it.”

“Maybe Shawny but,” Karen sighed.

Diane, the one whose nose pinched up every time she concentrated continued, “It’s time we told you the truth, Shawny, about why we bullied you.”

Karen nervously nodded.

They spoke together. “We were fighting over you.”

“We didn’t want to share, we were jealous of each other,” Karen went on.

Diane continued, “And it was splitting us apart.”

Karen went on, “So we kind of…”

Diane added, “Took it out on you. If we played nasty tricks on you instead of each other, well, it was just easier for us. You mean the world to both of us, Shawny. But we can’t share your love that way. Sharing a best friend is one thing, sharing that kind of love is something else.”

Karen added, “So when Nana reminded us how horrible we were being to you the night of your Prissy Princess Special Ceremony, we knew we had to find a different solution.”

The twins looked embarrassed. “We flipped a coin, Shawny. One of us agreed to get over you and actually has their eye on someone else, one of us gets to have you.”

“Don’t I get a say on this?” he asked, upset. “Which one of you is over me?” he asked, somehow a little offended despite the bizarre situation.

“You can’t even tell your two best mates apart?” Karen asked, deflecting with a weak smile.

They sat down together. Shawna started to draw again. As he drew he realized he did know which was over him and which wasn’t. He remembered several months of closely whispered conversations at the lunch table because Karen was going on and on about this and that about Baby Miss Antonia and didn’t want him to hear. His appearance, his behavior, especially how she loved that he was starting to look and act just like Shawna right down to the hair.

In the first panel he drew Diane kicking a sobbing Little Miss Antonia while he was down. In the next he drew Little Miss Antonia being gently helped to his feet by Karen with a look of concern, not mockery or anger, in her eyes. This was the only time he had ever seen The Twin Tormentors in a fight when they didn’t fight together as a team. Karen held back, she didn’t want to hit Little Miss Antonia.

“I can’t believe it,” Junior Miss Shawna said as he showed the twins the drawing, “One of my Little Miss friends stole one of my girlfriends. That has to be PPBB, doesn’t it?”

The triplets laughed together. Diane kissed him on the cheek and held his hand. From that day forward, at mealtimes the three of them did not sit together with Shawna in the middle. They sat with Shawna and Antonia in the middle and Karen and Diane each on the outside with their future Prissy Princess spouse close by their side. The triplets had become the quadruplets.

-

THE MOST IMPORTANT RESPONSIBILITY OF A PRISSY MISS IS TO LEARN HOW TO BE THE PERFECT PRISSY MRS. FOR YOUR FUTURE CHAMPION GIRL SPOUSE. YOUR CHAMPION GIRL SPOUSE WILL BE JUDGED BY HOW WELL HER PRISSY MRS. KEEPS HER HOME.

Champion Girls work very hard in difficult fields, as a Prissy Mrs. your role is to support your Champion Girl spouse and make sure your home is a happy and comfortable space. A Prissy Princess Dream Extreme Prissy Mrs. is an idyllic oasis of shade and comfort and rest for his Champion Girl spouse. Your Champion Girl spouse will sacrifice herself for you and your children, whether Champion Girls or Prissy Princesses, every day in a harsh world. In your Prissy Princess Dream Extreme workbook, write about the most important things you can do to support your Champion Girl spouse. In your Prissy Princess Dream Extreme art book, draw a picture of an idyllic family scene. :D

Epilogue: Prissy Princess Special Projects

More than a decade later, Prissy Mrs. Shawna and his Champion Girl spouse Diane were invited to visit the CGPC/PPCC Board of Directors in Clearwater along with Karen and her spouse Prissy Mrs. Antonia. Karen and Diane soared through high school and college following the advanced and aggressive schedule laid out for the well trained and well disciplined Champion Girls. They entered the Air Force to train as fighter pilots, and hoped to move on to being test pilots or astronauts one day. It would lead to a lot of travel, but Shawna and Antonia were well suited for the role of dutiful military homemakers. Luckily, Karen and Diane would always be stationed in the same locations. This was thanks to some political pressure from the organization formerly known as the CGPC/PPCC which was now more simply referred to collectively as, “The Family.” This was said to be because of how tight knit and close the community was and how they were united around a bizarre and unique set of strict family values.

The vast majority of the young people who entered the program for academic or legal rehabilitation seemed to make a long term commitment to the organization’s values, which made it seem more like a pseudo religion than a rehabilitation program. However, the world, especially America, was used to strange little groups of people living lives their own way. People tended not to care unless they felt those organizations were trying to force their values on the rest of society. That is, of course, why The Family was being so extremely patient and careful as they proceeded with their decades long plan to do just that.

Groups like the military seemed like excellent places to begin building influence. Foreign languages were added to the Prissy Princess curriculums and Prissy Princesses were heavily discouraged from treating them as headache material like math or science even if they seemed hard at first. Fluency in several languages was added as a requirement to participate in the World Participation Cup of Cuddleball. It was clear that open and empathetic Prissy Princesses took well to the study, as foreign Prissy Princess cultural exchange had worked out wonderfully even at the very first Prissy Princess All-Star retreat.

More and more schools were founded. Prissy Mrs. Shawna and Prissy Mrs. Antonia helped found the first Prissy Princess Correctional Club schools in Germany. They helped found the first school in Italy, where Prissy Mrs. Antonia had to be given a family and friend intervention to make sure he stayed appropriately slim and waifish. They helped found the first PPCC school in South Korea. Prissy Mrs. Shawna was distraught to find out the organization could find no way to found a school in North Korea as well, but was told that one day he could go if they ever tried.

They were doing this now all while taking care of a child of their own. Karen had given Antonia a little Champion Girl to take care of and Diane had blessed Shawna with a Baby Miss of his own. Antonia felt a tinge jealous of the Baby Miss. He would get to go through life without the original sin of spending time living as an uncorrected boy in the doomed patriarchal society. This meant he would never be mocked or broken or forced to act like a monster. He would be loved and protected and coddled for his whole life.

Now they were all returning together to Clearwater for several months. His sister, who had passed medical school at the top of her class of course, was proposing something called the Prissy Princess Special Projects. It turned out the PPSP was what Cindy had been building her life towards. The current Prissy Princess methods had an extremely good track record at converting uncorrected boys into Prissy Princesses. However, Cindy argued that the processes they used were, though tried and tested, too slow to get the job done in the timeframe required for their plans of matriarchal revolution led by The Family to be achieved in their lifetimes.

She said she was ready to begin testing on a better way. She promised that if The Family’s Board of Directors would fund her experiments, one day she could deliver to them a perfect Prissy Princess from an uncorrected boy or man in a single day. As proof she presented her brother Prissy Mrs. Shawna. The perfect epitome of the future gender they were trying to create out of men, and one Cindy had legendarily helped to create almost entirely in a single day. She also presented Prissy Mrs. Antonia, who she had broken in one Prissy Princess Special Therapy session, impressive even after he had endured a lower intensity version of the program for a year. She reminded them how much her plan to capture Prissy Mrs. Antonia’s father had furthered their goals.

There was some trepidation among the Board. She was proposing very radical and ethically questionable experimentation. She wanted to test out extreme facial feminization surgeries. She wanted to test much harder drugs for hypnosis and behavior modification. Drugs a lot harder and potentially more dangerous than the completely harmless non-addictive one used in the Prissy Princess Special Treats or the simple nausea inducing drug used in the Prissy Princess Special Therapy. Some of the drugs she proposed using were not even designed for human use. She wanted to test hypnosis so strong it would be able to render a male completely harmless even if he had access to weapons. He would be unable to even consider using them. The thought of the possibility of committing violence would simply never occur. Violence would be permanently taken out of the male gender’s hands and women would have a complete monopoly on force.

She even wanted to start testing out the impact of sexual reassignment surgery on unwilling males to see how they would adjust to the change. Some of the more extremist factions of The Family actually supported this on a large scale as the ultimate symbol of the male gender’s total emasculation.

Many of the Board saw value in the work she was proposing, but they were still too afraid of potential blowback if what they did was ever found out. If their revolutionary plot was exposed before they were ready, it would fail in a crushing blow of patriarchal backlash. Their influence was far from where it needed to be to execute their total coup.

Cindy proposed an alternative for board members. She said she would fund the experiments herself by charging wealthy enough people for her services as if she was an independent business. All she needed from the Board was referrals and help covering up if anything ever went wrong. All of the Board members were wealthy and influential radical feminists, they all knew where they might find such people. People separated a bit from their own circles but still trending towards their values might have reasons to want to feminize a troublesome son or husband. Cindy had an excellent track record of success. It seemed likely that she knew exactly what she was doing. Prissy Mrs. Shawna and Prissy Mrs. Antonia really were precisely the sort of loyal and subservient Prissy Princesses they all wanted after all.

Their marriages were held up as proof that dreams can come true for all the Champion Girls upset they had not yet married a Prissy Princess of their own. Despite this, the patience of the Champion Girls would only last so long. If a faster method was potentially available, they reasoned they had to take it.

The idea was approved. A few months later Cindy showed Prissy Mrs. Shawna the first five she would work on. The fifth and final of them was a very petite teenaged boy who had striking red hair. “Oh, I love this one, Miss Cindy,” he smiled up at her.

“Yeah, Shawna, me too. That’s why I’m saving him for last.” She smiled back at her brother. “He’s going to be my masterpiece and convince the Board to fully fund the project.”

Shawna dreamily did what he did every time he saw an uncorrected boy. He tried to guess what his Prissy Princess special unique title could be, “He could be the Prissy Princess of...Vanilla Red Velvet. Or...Strawberry Cream Surprises. Or...Pearl Apple Tutus.”

“Sorry, Shawna. The Prissy Princess Special Projects don’t get to have a Prissy Princess special unique title.”

Shawna looked sad.

“But don’t worry, Shawna, they’ll all be Prissy Princesses where it counts. On the inside, they’ll be nothing but sugar and spice and flowers and fun, just like you are. I’ll make sure of it. You’re really the inspiration for the whole project, Shawna. Everything I learned from correcting you is going into the process I’ll be using with them. They’ll all be your sisters, in a way.”

Shawna nodded and smiled at the idea. He thanked his sister for the honor, “Thank you, Miss Cindy!”

A small part of him, however, wondered how Cindy had so strongly and permanently mistook his obsession with the twins and theirs with him as primarily orbiting around his fear of them. It was clear to all three of them now that it had always really been rooted in hurt feelings surrounding their mutual young love triangle. If she was so brilliant and knew his mind so well, why didn’t she see that? What else did she get wrong about him that even he wasn’t aware of because he just blindly believed her smart sounding explanations that were so far above his head? What could she get wrong when she went about her Prissy Princess Special Projects?

His long ago realization that she was simply a sadist and not a true believer like the Board of Directors or his mother, that she was too sick inside to even see love for what it was, flicked into his mind momentarily, before he returned to thinking about other things. Happier thoughts. He loves his sister with all his heart and she loves him. She’s the best sister in the world. Without her, he never could have been a Prissy Princess and he loved being a Prissy Princess with all his heart. He would be loyal to her for as long as he lived, even if he lived a million billion years.

That night he sat by the window looking out into the darkness, feeling the warm humid Florida air. He rocked back and forth with his own adorable Baby Miss in his arms. He had been caring for the child almost entirely himself ever since Diane returned to duty a few weeks after the birth.

He whispered the words he used to calm his Prissy Princess baby son. He hoped his words carried on the air out the window and that a whisper of them would find their way out to the Prissy Princess Special Projects, wherever they were, and that all of them would one day find comfort and peace and love in their new roles as well.

He whispered, “Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place. Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place.”

THE END

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The Sissy-Girly Game
by SissyKimmy1
(PDF Version)

Chapter 1 — Let's Play Ballerina

I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was still in shock. It was all my little sister's fault. She was always a little bitch but now she had ruined my life completely. I never thought she would take it this far. I couldn't believe she wouldn't come clean and tell our parents the truth. She was following behind me snickering as we approached my new home. My father rang the doorbell.

“Dad! You have to believe me! She made me do it!” I attempted to explain one last time.

“Quiet Jimmy, the decision is final,” my Mom replied.

Time slowed down as they waited for the answer and the last few moments of my old life ticked away. I squirmed uncomfortably in my clothes. I was wearing pink Mary Janes, opaque white tights, and a frilly pink dress with petticoats my little sister had once worn as a flower girl. Underneath it all I'm wearing girl's GoodNites underwear, diapers really, meant for bedwetters. They were printed with pink and purple flowers and butterflies.

This was the third time my parents had caught me dressed in such a manner in the past month and I had been warned of the consequences. My little sister knew what would happen too. She did this on purpose. I seethed in anger as I recalled what she did to me.

-

It started years ago. My sister, Kelly, was big and strong for a girl her age and I'm weak and small for a boy. She was a natural bully and loved exploiting this situation to make her older brother's life a living hell. Her favorite thing to do was called “The Sissy-Girly Game.”

The rules of the game were simple. The game started when one of us (always my sister) would yell, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!” and the first part of the game ended when one of us (always me) exclaimed, “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!” The methods she used to make me say it varied, but usually she just tackled me to the ground, put her knee in my back, and twisted my arm until I was crying. I had no choice but to surrender.

The next phase of the game was the real highlight for her, however, as the loser was forced to dress up as the little girly-girl they said they were. I still remember the first time she played the game with me. She dragged me to her room while I cried in pain as my eye swelled. My little sister had beaten me up and given me a black eye and made me humiliate myself, how could this have happened? Once we were in her room she selected an outfit and showed it to me. It was one of her old ballet dresses. It was a pink peasant sleeve dress with a satin ribbon lace up on the bodice and an attached tutu skirt with pink roses at the waistline.

“Put it on.” she ordered me.

With tears in my eyes and blushing cheeks I stood shivering in anxiety before her as she handed me a pair of pink satin panties. As I held them in my hand I realized I could not possibly let her do this to me. I dropped them and tried to run out of the room. She caught me and dragged me back. She twisted my arm again until I was screaming and begging her to stop. She held me down and put the panties on me by force. My little sister had beaten me up and forced me to wear her panties. My resistance was broken and she made me say, “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!” again before letting me up.

She handed me white tights and I pulled them on over the panties. After that she put me in her ballet dress and put a bow in my hair. She gave me pink ballet slippers to put on. She handed me a tube of bright pink lipstick and ordered me to go to the mirror and put it on. So there I stood before my little sister dressed as a sissy little ballerina because she had beaten me up. Our relationship would never be the same. How could it be?

“You can't make me wear your clothes. I'm your older brother. It's not right,” I complained.

She laughed at me, “Not anymore. From now on you're my little sissy sister. If you want to be my older brother again, well, try and win the game next time! For now, I'm in charge and your new name is Samantha!”

I was as utterly humiliated as a boy could be. My little sister was turning me into her bitch. It got even worse. As the waves of humiliation overcame me I could feel myself getting hard in the silky panties under my tutu. Why was this happening to me?

For the next few hours she made me play the part of her girly little sister. She made me speak in an excited and exaggerated high pitched girly voice. She ordered me to take mincing little steps and to hold my wrists out limply and generally just act as effeminate as possible. She put on an instructional ballet video and watched me as I tried to dance along with it. She made me wait on her hand and foot. I had to go downstairs and make her lunch while wearing a frilly apron over my ballet dress. I was so frustrated and upset at how I was being treated but I knew I wasn't man enough to stand up to my little sister.

After a few hours she realized our parents were coming home soon and ordered me to undress. She saw I had left a wet spot on her panties from my arousal and glared at me in anger. “Samantha, when you borrow someone's clothes you can't go making a mess in them! I think it's cute your enjoying yourself though. I'll have to think of a solution for that icky little problem though. I can't wait for the next time we play!”

I frowned, “Next time?”

She nodded.

Chapter 2 — Let's Play Princess Bedwetter

Back in the present I squirmed with the memory. Her solution to my little arousal problem was the GoodNites I now wore. The door opened and I saw the woman who would be my new guardian. She was an extremely stern faced middle aged woman with black hair held up in a tight bun. She wore a rather plain black dress. She looked like a tough disciplinarian.

She greeted my parents and my sister and escorted them in. I stood behind on the doorstep shaking in fear. She looked down at me and crossed her arms. “Samantha, come inside this instant!”

With tears in my eyes I complied. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“Yes, Mother.” she corrected me.

“Yes, Mother.” I replied with a pout.

Her name was Mrs. Julia Donovan and she had officially adopted me. My parents had disowned me because of my girly ways and she had been looking to adopt a boy like that for quite some time. I was warned this would happen if I didn't stop my “self-sissification” but there was nothing I could do. My sister wouldn't stop playing her awful game with me.

We sat in the living room while my parents chatted with my new mother. I thought more about how I ended up in this mess.

-

After the third time we played the game my mother noticed that I was wearing lipstick. I had forgotten to clean it off. I broke down in tears and explained what Kelly was doing to me. I begged her not to tell Dad but she ignored me. I tearfully had to explain to him that his only son was being beat up by his little sister and forced to wear her clothes. He never looked at me the same again. Kelly denied it had ever happened and with crocodile tears in her eyes accused me of stealing her clothes and makeup and how violated it made her feel.

They believed her. She had them totally fooled. My father screamed at me, “You deserve to be dressed up as a sissy if you let your little sister beat you up! If it was true, you could stop it any time. You obviously don't want to stop being a sissy, but you better or there will be consequences.”

I was grounded for a week and severely spanked. The next time we played the game Kelly decided to punish me for accusing her in front of our parents. She dressed me in white panties with flowers on them, her jeans, and a pink t-shirt that she had custom made for me with the words, “Little Princess Bedwetter” written on it in darker pink glitter. She dragged me to a grocery store and ordered me to go inside and buy two packages of girl's GoodNites.

Blood pounded in my ears and my face blushed crimson as I entered the store. My sister followed behind me at a discrete distance to watch my humiliation. Every head did a double take when they saw the boy dressed in girl's clothes that proclaimed him a little bedwetting princess. I felt like the whole world was looking and laughing at me.

I stood in the diaper aisle with a frown as I tried to find what I was looking for. My hands were sweaty and shaking from embarrassment and anxiety and I found myself becoming aroused in my panties again. Why was that happening? I hated it. The humiliation got even worse when I had to carry the two soft pink packages under my arms.

The woman at the counter could barely contain her laughter. I stared at the ground and wished I was anywhere else. As instructed I responded, “No thank you,” in a nervous, stuttering voice when asked if I wanted my purchases bagged.

She slapped two “Paid” stickers on my GoodNites and said, “Thanks for shopping with us, princess-boy!” I was forced to walk home openly carrying my humiliating new undergarments.

“No more telling on me and trying to ruin our fun, Samantha, or we'll be playing it in public a lot more!” she warned me. “Nobody likes a prissy little tattle tale.”

-

Even if I was going to be stuck as Samantha with my new mother I thought my one comfort would be that I would never have to see Kelly's stupid face again. My new mother ruined that though, after my sister cheerfully told me, “Goodbye! Have fun with your new Mommy. I'm going to miss you, Samantha!” Mrs. Donovan invited her to be my babysitter when she had to go out. My mother and father left without even saying goodbye. I started to cry.

When they were gone my new mother turned to me. “Okay Samantha, stop your sniveling, it's time to show you your new room and to learn the rules for living under my roof. Trust me, you don't want to break them!”

And that's how my new life began.

Chapter 3 — Let's Play Schoolgirl

I frowned at the name “Samantha Anne” written on the door in pink lettering as Mrs. Donovan, Mother, led me into the room. I walked around and explored. It was a big room, as large as my parent's room in my old house. The room had lavender colored walls with white curtains. There were dolls and other girl's toys neatly spread around the room. I pouted at how girly and prissy it looked. There was also a TV and an antique looking desk with a brand new pink Macbook Air. There was a canopied queen sized bed with lavender covers and white pillowcases and sheets. There was a plastic sheet under the covers because of my sister's lies. I had my own bathroom with a similar girly color scheme and a closet that looked will stocked with clothes meant for a little girl. If the room wasn't meant for a girl I would have considered it a much nicer room than my old one right from the start.

“What do you say, Samantha?” my new mother asked me.

“Umm, thank you Mother, but....” my face turned red with anger. I couldn't restrain myself any more and I started to have a tantrum. “I'M NOT A GIRL AND I DON'T WET MY BED AND IT'S ALL MY SISTER'S FAULT. I WANT TO GO HOME!”

My new mother smothered me in a hug and tried to soothe me. “You are home, Samantha. It's all right, it's all right, shh...” she told me over and over until I calmed down. She sat me down at the foot of my new bed while I finished sniveling. Maybe she would be nice after all I thought. My old parents would just call me a sissy and a baby when I broke down like that and tried to explain what was happening to me but Mrs. Donovan had calmed me down and soothed me like...I stopped crying suddenly and tried to act like the boy I was claiming to be...she had soothed me like I was a little girl having a fit.

“Samantha,” she addressed me.

I interrupted and tried to explain myself again. This time I kept my emotions in check, “My name is Jimmy and I'm a boy. I want to change out of these clothes now. My sister makes me wear them. I never wanted to.”

“SAMANTHA ANNE DONOVAN!” she shouted, “You do not interrupt your mother, ever. I know all about your little sister and you don't need to explain anything to me. I'm sure you're telling the truth about everything she did to you.”

“So I can change?” I asked with hope.

“Of course not. It seems to me your sister and family were exactly right about you. What kind of boy lets his little sister beat him up and put him in her clothes? What kind of boy wears girl's GoodNites because he wets his bed? Only one kind. What kind has a crying fit like a toddler because he's homesick? No matter what you want to be it is clear what you actually are. You are a little sissy boy, Samantha, and that's how your mother intends to raise you. From now on as far as you are concerned you can think of yourself as my twelve year old bed wetting little daughter. If you ever bring this up again, starting now, you will be punished for it until you learn your place.”

“But I don't wet the bed!” I insisted.

An impatient look passed over her face but she allowed me to give my side of the story. After my shopping trip to buy the GoodNites I always wore them when my sister made me play the game so I wouldn't have to wear her panties. They made me feel even more humiliated and more like her little toy which made my little problem with being aroused by the clothes more intense but they did a better job of hiding and containing what was going on.

Mrs. Donovan's face showed extreme disapproval whenever I brought that little problem up. “I hope you know none of that funny business will ever be tolerated in this house, Samantha, if I ever catch you there will be severe consequences!”

The humiliating thought made me blush even harder as I continued to tell her what had happened to me.

-

I was sitting outside reading a book. I had hoped staying out of the house would keep her from bothering me, but it didn't help.

As I was reading I heard a loud screech behind me, those words I hated and feared. “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!”

Before I could move she grabbed my arm from behind and held me. She grabbed one of my fingers and bent it backwards. I screamed in pain and tried to resist but in only a matter of seconds I issued the obligatory reply. “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

“Oh?” she replied non-nonchalantly, “Well, prissy little girls shouldn't be outside fighting! They should be inside playing dress-up!”

Kelly made me wear one of her old school uniforms. It consisted of white tights and white girl's loafers, a crisp white blouse, and a plaid pink and white jumper dress. I had a matching pink headband in my hair and of course she made me put on her pink lipstick. She sat me down at her desk with a pink pen and some paper and told me to write an admission to our parents that I was a sissy little bedwetter.

“I promise I won't show it to them, Samantha. I just think it'll be funny. It's just make-believe, girly-girls like you love to play pretend, don't they?” she asked mockingly.

“You're such a liar! I hate you!” I responded angrily. I tried to run from the room but she was on me before I could get away. I had been able to escape my little sister's bullying by locking myself in my room until our parents got home a few times before. She pinned me on the ground and started giving me indian burns on my arm until I was crying and begging her to let me go. God I hate her! She pointed to the desk and I knew what I had to do.

That's how I ended up writing an essay in girly pink script titled, “Samantha the Sissy Bedwetter” in which I told my Mom and Dad I was having constant problems with keeping my sheets dry and that I was addressing the problem by buying GoodNites for girls. She was true to her word and didn't give it to them, at least right away, but she began a campaign to make the made up story true.

She started one morning by ambushing me in my room before I had a chance to relive myself and pinning me down on my bed. She tickled me until I lost control of my bladder while screaming at her to get away. As soon as I was wet we heard a yell from downstairs. My father was asking what all the noise was about and before I had a chance to reply Kelly screamed, “DADDY, JIMMY WET THE BED!”

He stormed upstairs and I was caught red handed. After the incident with the lipstick and my “false” accusation that it was my sister's fault he had no patience for my explanations that she had struck again with her mischief.

After that incident it was much easier for her to peg me as a bedwetter. She would just dump warm water on me as I slept. I tried to explain it was just water but my parents thought I was “lying” again. I started to lock my door at night but my sister told on me and my Dad took the lock off. He said it was unsafe to sleep with the door locked in case of emergency. Now I had no way to hide from her. I begged her to stop and she gave me the conditions. I had to wear the GoodNites to bed every night. So, for a while I didn't have to worry about waking up wet, but as far as my parent's were concerned my reputation as a wetter was established and I had to go to sleep wearing a distinct reminder of how much my little sister dominated my life.

-

“Well,” Mrs. Donovan said, “That reputation is well established here too. If you stay dry like a young lady should you won't have to worry about plastic sheets and GoodNites any more. You just have to prove it to me.”

“Okay.” I mumbled in reply.

She cleared her throat.

“Yes, Mother.” I corrected myself. At least that was something to look forward to. “But Mother...”

“Don't say it, Samantha.” she interrupted sternly.

“I'm not a sissy boy! Just let me prove that to you too and...”

She grabbed me by the ear and led me to the desk. She picked up the computer and the remote control for the television. “No TV or Internet for a week. Now go to the corner for twenty minutes!” she ordered me.

I was dumbfounded. My old parents had tried to spank the sissy out of me and yelled and screamed and worse. I had expected a similar sort of punishment from my new stern looking mother but instead she was simply grounding me and giving me a time out like...like...the naughty little princess I was dressed up as.

“Samantha Anne Donovan, I won't tell you again, to the corner, NOW! Or do you want a month?” she asked me.

“I'm not a twelve year old girl! You can't treat me like one and expect me to go along with it!” I screamed back.

She sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, Samantha, but if you don't adjust to your new life there is only one option for you. I'm going to send you to a boy's boarding school, one that specializes in dealing with juvenile offenders from the court system. I'm going to send you there with nothing but your dresses and GoodNites and we can see if you can really hack it as a boy after that. I don't think a boy who can't even handle his little sister will do well in a place like that. Do you really think that would be better than living here in a big house with a big room and a loving mother and everything you could ever want? All you have to do is accept who you really are, my sissy daughter Samantha.”

I was defeated. The option she gave me was even worse than being here. I could find another way out. I took small slow steps until my nose was pressed up in the corner, crying softly with my vision full of lavender paint.

She sighed heavily. The tension dissipated from the room. “A real boy never would have chosen the corner,” my new mother told me with certainty in her voice.

As she handed me a pink teddy bear to cuddle with during my corner time I realized...she might be right.

Chapter 4 — Let's Play Flower Girl

“Time's up, Samantha.” Mother said gently.

I turned from the corner still sniffling and holding the stuffed bear. My new mother gave me a hug and patted my back.

“So Samantha, would you like to change into something else more comfortable or are you fine in that dress?”

“I hate this dress,” I mumbled with a pout.

“Oh, Samantha, but you look so pretty in it! I'll always think of you in it. How couldn't I remember what my daughter was wearing the first day I met her? In fact, wait right here so I can get my camera and take some pictures before you change.”

I groaned as she left the room. I thought about the very first time Kelly had made me wear her flower girl dress.

-

It was a few days before the wedding. It was being held in a beach resort in Florida and our family had rented out a large house by the ocean. Kelly and I were hanging out with some of our cousins while everyone else was at the beach. There were two boys, Mike and Ted, and two younger girls named Mary and Jennifer. Mike and Ted were rough housing around like boys do and the girls were sitting around the table chatting. I sat on a couch somewhere in the middle reading a book, not wanting to have anything to do with either group. Mike and Ted started arm wrestling and I got up to leave. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be challenged and I knew from experience I would just end up losing.

My stupid little sister just couldn't leave it alone. “Where are you going Jimmy? You don't want to arm wrestle?”

Ted laughed. “It's okay. He doesn't have to arm wrestle us if he doesn't want to. Leave him alone.”

I was surprised they didn't want to join in the taunting but I took it as a blessing and started to leave. My sister still wouldn’t let it go. It always amazed me how much of a bully she was to me when most people were nice.

“Who said anything about arm wrestling with you? Come on Jimmy, come arm wrestle Mary.” she taunted.

I let out a nervous laugh. “Uhh, don't joke around Kelly, that wouldn't be fair.”

Kelly smiled impishly. “Don't worry, she'll go easy on you.”

The girls all laughed. My face turned red.

Kelly went on, “We'll make it a bet. If you win I promise never to ask you to play that game you don't like anymore.”

“What game?” Jennifer asked innocently.

“It's nothing!” I shouted quickly before Kelly had a chance to reply. I was intrigued, for all her meanness I had never known my sister to back down from honoring a bet. I looked over at Mary and considered. Sure my little sister beat me up, but Mary was younger and smaller than she was. I was sure I could handle her.

I sat down across the table from Mary. Mike rolled his eyes, “Come on. Jimmy, don't hurt my sister.”

“I won't.” I promised.

Kelly laughed. “Definitely not!”

I glared at her. I put my elbow on the table and Mary looked at me with determination.

Kelly went on, “Of course, if Mary wins we have to get something too. How about you model my flower girl dress for everyone?”

My face turned bright red and I started to pull my elbow away from the table. “I'm not wearing your dress.” I insisted.

Ted laughed. “Of course not, unless you lose.”

Mary smiled innocently, “And if you do lose you kind of belong in a dress. What kind of boy would lose to a little girl like me?”

God. How did I end up in these situations? My stupid sister. Mary and I locked hands. Kelly counted to three and we started to arm wrestle. For a few seconds neither of us had the advantage. Mary was pushing as hard as she could and so was I. The girls were cheering wildly for her and so were the other boys. I don't think the boys really wanted to see me humiliated, they weren't bullies like my sister, but it's just more fun to root for the underdog which in this case was the little girl and not the older boy.

Slowly I started to take the upper hand. It was taking me way longer than it should of but it was now certain I was going to win. I started to sweat a bit with the effort. Almost....almost....almost.....No more Sissy-Girly Game! Almost...No more saying I'm a prissy little....

Under the table where nobody could see Kelly grabbed my free hand and bent back one of my fingers. I yelped in pain and in my distraction Mary had slammed my hand down on the table in an instant before I could recover. Everyone cheered. They lifted Mary up in their arms and carried her around in triumph. I stared at my sister with hated. She smiled and whispered in my ear, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game.” Kelly dragged me back to her room and locked the door. “Say it.” she insisted.

“I hate you! I'm not saying it. I have to wear it anyway. A bet's a bet.”

She rushed towards me and punched me hard in the stomach and I fell to the ground groaning and gasping for breath. When I recovered there was only one thing to do. “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

She smiled in triumph. “Oh, they will!”

“But Kelly, I didn't bring any GoodNites, what am I going to wear under?”

Kelly laughed, “It's okay just this once. In fact I got these panties just for you Samantha!” She held up the most frilly, sissy, lace and ribbon covered pair of pink panties you could imagine, “Mother couldn't believe when I asked for them along with the dress. They are so girly and silly, but I just knew you would LOVE them Samantha. Put them on!” she ordered me.

I was shaking as I put them on, praying none of the other kids were curious enough to be just outside the door to hear exactly what was going on. I was in a state of abject humiliation with the panties in place. Like clockwork my unwanted arousal returned.

Kelly covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. “I just knew you would love them! My girly-girl sister loves her panties!”

“SHHHH!” I told her in a pleading voice as she tried to keep herself under control. I hated the strange feeling of pleasure the sissy humiliation gave me. The arousal and the butterflies it left in my stomach just made me feel more weak and sissy and girly and no matter how I moved I couldn't escape feeling what I felt in my panties more and more.

In short order I was also dressed in the petticoats and dress and the white tights and pink Mary Janes. The pink satin dress had a cap sleeved princess style bodice and an organza overlay skirt embroidered with elegant pink flowers, puffed up by the petticoats underneath. An additional pink flower was pinned on at the sash and in my hair. She also did my makeup like hers would be done for the ceremony, finishing with pink lipstick of course.

“Don't make me go out there,” I begged.

“You didn't lose the bet to me, you lost it to Mary and you promised to model the dress for all of us. It's out of my hands,” she replied.

“But you cheated,” I whined.

“You lost. Get over it, sissy boy!” she said with a smile.

I walked back to the living room with my cheeks burning red and my sister following close behind. “Ta-Da!” Kelly pronounced and I performed a curtsey as instructed, one so well executed it would be obvious to a close observer the move had been practiced many times before.

The boys just shook their heads and walked away, not wanting to see me humiliated any more. I could tell they would always think of me as a sissy from now on though. The girls squealed with delight and ran over and started fussing with the dress and complimenting me on how pretty I looked. After a few more minutes of primping Kelly handed me her flower basket and made me practice walking down the aisle in cadence and pantomiming tossing flowers.

I was in the middle of that when my Mom and Dad came back to the house. “Kelly, why are you in your d...” Dad began to ask as I turned around in horror and he saw who it really was. The girls tried to explain I had just lost a bet and was honoring it but he never believed anything but that I was a gay little sissy boy every time they caught me. He assumed I had lost on purpose. He looked like he was about ready to grab me and thrash me for taking my little sissy act public in front of the family but Mom held him back.

“The dress! The dress! You can't hurt the dress!” she screamed at him.

Yeah. Wouldn't want to hurt the dress.

Mom grabbed me painfully by the wrist and dragged me back to the room and undressed me. When she saw what was going on in my panties she looked about ready to thrash me as hard as Dad would.

“Oh God. My son is a little pervert sissy. Why didn't I just have two daughters if my son was going to come out like this? Why?” She threw out the panties, “You can't keep doing this to your sister's clothes! It's disgusting! You need to control yourself and stop being such a sissy!”

“It's not my fault,” I cried while putting my boy's clothes back on. She pulled me by the wrist to the bathroom and removed the makeup.

I still remember watching Kelly walk down the aisle in that dress. She looked over at me and winked and stopped to whisper in my ear, “From now on, only you're going to wear it Samantha!” A wedding photographer noticed and snapped a picture of the flower girl whispering in the ear of the blushing little boy. Kelly kept a copy in her room.

-

At the last flash of the camera my new Mother smiled at me. “Okay, let's get you changed.”

Fine with me I thought. She hummed to herself while she went to various drawers to pick out clothes for me. “You can pick out your panties, Samantha, the drawer is over there.” she pointed, “Just think, some panties of your very own for the first time!”

I opened the drawer. Every last pair was just as frilly and fancy and prissy as the one's I had originally worn under the flower girl's dress. I groaned. At least it wasn't GoodNites I thought. I picked out a frilly blue pair. Mother handed me a panty liner. “To handle your little wetness problem and to keep your little thing from poking out.” she told me and I blushed.

Luckily not all the clothes were as frilly and old fashioned as the panties, though a good deal of them were as I saw with dread. For now she just dressed me in pink cotton pajama bottoms with white hearts on them and a pink t-shirt with a white unicorn covered in silver glitter. In the mirror I saw I still looked like an effeminate boy wearing the clothes of a twelve year old girl and not an actual girl.

“Don't worry,” Mother told me, “Soon we'll have you looking like any other little girl.” I pouted and she saw I was dangerously close to protesting, “Or we could just keep you like this, but don't think you're getting boy's clothes to go along with it,” she told me. I wasn't sure what would be worse.

She led me downstairs to the kitchen. She presented me with a frilly pink and white apron with the words, “Mother's Little Helper” embroidered on it and tied it on me, “Now, time to help your Mother in the kitchen like any good little girl should.”

“But I don't know how to cook,” I whined.

She giggled back at me. “Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to learn helping me every day!”

After dinner I helped her do the dishes. She wasn't actually that bad to be around. If it wasn't for my loathing for the clothes and having to act like a girl I could see my new family working out. When we were done she sat me down at the table to explain the rules I would now have to live by. When we were done she put a copy of the rules up on the refrigerator and gave me another copy to take to my room. She also showed me a brand new pink iPhone but told me I was not allowed to use it while my TV and computer privileges were revoked. Who would I call anyway?

THE RULES:

1. YOU WILL ACT LIKE THE PROPER YOUNG LADY YOU ARE AT ALL TIMES.
2. YOU WILL COMPLETE ALL OF YOUR DAILY CHORES (HELPING MOTHER IN THE KITCHEN, CLEANING YOUR ROOM AND BATHROOM, HELPING MOTHER IN THE GARDEN, KEEPING ALL COMMON AREAS OF THE HOUSE NEAT AND CLEAN) WITHOUT PROCRASTINATION OR COMPLAINT.
3. YOU WILL FOLLOW A STRICT PERSONAL HYGIENE ROUTINE (BRUSH TEETH THREE TIMES A DAY, SHOWER, TEND TO YOUR BEAUTY NEEDS) DAILY WITHOUT PROMPTING OR COMPLAINT.
4. NO LYING, YOU WILL BE ABSOLUTELY HONEST WITH YOUR MOTHER AT ALL TIMES.
5. YOUR INTERNET USAGE WILL BE STRICTLY MONITORED. NO FUNNY BUSINESS.
6. YOUR TELEVISION USAGE IS RESTRICTED WITH A V-CHIP TO AGE APPROPRIATE MATERIAL. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO WATCH AN UNAPPROVED PROGRAM YOU WILL ASK PERMISSION. IF IT IS NOT GRANTED, YOU WILL NOT WHINE OR ATTEMPT TO CIRCUMVENT YOUR MOTHER'S WISHES.
7. ANY MUSIC OR BOOKS YOU WISH TO PURCHASE MUST BE APPROVED BY YOUR MOTHER FIRST. NO INAPPROPRIATE MATERIAL.
8. BEDTIME IS 9 O'CLOCK EVERY NIGHT UNLESS PERMISSION TO STAY UP IS EXPRESSLY GRANTED. NO COMPUTER OR TV USE AFTER BEDTIME. YOU WILL BE UP PROMPTLY AT 5 O'CLOCK TO HELP MOTHER WITH BREAKFAST.
9. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT PERMISSION. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT YOUR CELL PHONE. IT'S A DANGEROUS WORLD OUT THERE FOR A YOUNG GIRL. NO TALKING TO STRANGERS.
10. YOU WILL OBEY YOUR MOTHER AT ALL TIMES, WITHOUT HESITATION.

ANY VIOLATION OF THE RULES WILL BE PUNISHED APPROPRIATELY, DO NOT TEST ME.

I felt incredibly smothered by the draconian rules. In my old house it seemed like both my sister and I ran wild. Well, she certainly did anyway. It's how I ended up here in the first place. On the other hand, I felt somewhat comforted that someone would be watching over me at all times. I could have used that in the past.

After we discussed the rules for several hours Mother stared at the clock in silence for a few moments. I looked up too and saw it was 9:01. I stood up and came to her side. “It's my bedtime, Good night Mother.”

She smiled at me, “Good girl.”

I felt like such a pussy giving in to her rules, but I didn't want to test her just yet after a day of such traumatic changes. Better to sleep on it and hope to figure out what to do with my new life in the morning. She led me upstairs. I went to obediently hop right into bed but when I pulled up the covers I again noticed the plastic lining and I blushed. I turned around and saw Mother holding a package of GoodNites. “Panties off, Samantha,” she told me.

In humiliation I obliged. She would soon see that there was no reason for me to wear them, not that the frilly panties were a much better choice of undergarments.

“Sleep tight, Samantha,” Mother told me before handing me the pink teddy bear to cuddle with.

Despite the plastic sheets the large canopied bed was actually by far the most comfortable I had ever slept in. The covers were thick and warm and I felt like I was lying on a big fluffy cloud. My pajamas were comfortable too. I guess one advantage of girl's clothes is how soft and nice they can feel. For a moment as I laid in the bed in the darkness of my new room, hearing muffled sounds of my Mother preparing for bed in the other room, I somehow felt like I belonged here and that everything would be okay.

I drifted off to a deep sleep. Vaguely I recalled having nightmares about my little sister. I woke with a start as a loud alarm blared to life at five in the morning. I wasn't used to being up so early and I didn't know how to turn the alarm off and...

I froze with the alarm still blaring as I suddenly noticed something. I started to cry. I grabbed the alarm and tossed it across the room and it hit the wall and broke and finally went silent.

I was soaking wet.

Chapter 5 — Let's Play Dollies

I shuddered in disgust at the cold wetness around my crotch and bottom and threw off the covers. I screamed in frustration. I heard loud footsteps heading towards my room.

Mother opened the door with an annoyed look on her face, “Samantha! What are you going on about at this time of morning! It's time to get dressed,” she shouted.

I screamed back, “Like you don't know!? I'm all wet! What did you do to me?”

She saw the wetness on my pink pajama pants which had overwhelmed the GoodNites and a look of concern came to her face, “Oh, you poor dear. My poor little bedwetter...”

Through my tears I shouted back again, “I don't wet the bed! You poured water on me or put my hand in warm water while I slept or put something in my dinner. I HATE YOU! You're just like my sister. You don't care about me! You're just playing the Sissy-Girly Game! At least my sister stopped sometimes! You're making me play it all the time! I hate you!”

She looked angry but spoke in a measured voice, “Samantha Anne Donovan, you listen to me, that is a nasty thing to say and you should be ashamed. I did no such thing. We made dinner together and ate the same food and I didn't wet MY bed. And I didn't do a thing to you while you slept. Now come with me and I can prove it.”

With a pout I followed behind her as she led me to her computer. She showed me a video. She had cameras in my room including one with night vision. I was to have no privacy at all. I again felt the her smothering influence on me and shuddered, “It's for your own safety, Samantha. Do you know how many little girls end up kidnapped?” she insisted.

The video was grainy and dark but it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was not lying. I whimpered and started cry like a sissy little girl again. “I am...I am...I AM a bedwetter...” I whined.

Mother nodded at me. “I'm sure you weren't before your sister started to bully you, but she clearly traumatized you. She told me she stopped faking your accidents quite a while ago. You've been wetting yourself for a long time.”

“I'm sorry.” I told her through my tears. I had never felt this way before, so totally emasculated and infantile. In the past it was all my sister's fault. Now I had nobody to blame but myself. I let Mother put me in these clothes instead of going off to a boarding school. I wet the bed all on my own. I felt pathetic and humiliated with my girly clothes clinging to me with a cold wetness that made me feel like a useless, helpless bedwetting little child.

She hugged me and tried to soothe me. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's a medical problem and it happens to many young girls your age. Two to three percent of twelve year old girls, according to my research.”

That's not exactly many, and I'm not a twelve year old girl. I knew I wasn't allowed to say so. Instead I just hugged her tightly back. My old parents had punished me severely when I wet the bed hoping it would make me stop. I think it must have just contributed to making the problem real. My new mother just hugged me and tried to make me feel better.

“That wasn't what I meant.” I continued, “I'm sorry for saying you did this to me. That wasn't very nice. I'll understand if you need to punish me.”

She took me by the hand and spoke as she led me back up to my room. “Don't be silly dear, I understand why you were upset. I'll make a doctor's appointment for you to figure out your bedwetting. In the mean time just do your best. Don't drink anything right before bed and try and stay dry.”

Going to the doctor for my problem would be humiliating, but at least it might get it solved. Mother took the sheets and comforter off my bed to clean and sent me to the shower to get ready for my first full day in my new home.

When I got out of the shower an outfit was laid out for me but Mother was nowhere to be seen. She obviously wanted to see if I would just submissively dress myself like the twelve year old girl she wanted me to be. There was no little sister berating me and threatening me and beating me up. I was alone in my room looking down at the frilly pink panties making my own decision.

I came downstairs. I was dressed in a short sleeved dark pink bubble top with black polka dots and hearts on it, decorated at the neckline with black sequin dots to create a collar effect, and black leggings and matching sandals. Mother smiled at me. “You look so pretty Samantha. You'll look even better after your makeover at the salon today! Nobody will ever think of you as a nasty little boy ever again!”

I trembled in fear but I knew protesting would only get me stuck in the corner. She helped me into my apron and we started making breakfast. I was glum the entire time. Mother tried to distract me and cheer me up but all I could do was reflect on what a pathetic sissy bedwetter I was.

While we ate I started to ask her questions. I had to know more about my new Mother and my new life.

“Are you married? Do I have a...a new Father too?” I asked.

She replied somberly, “He passed on many years ago.”

I nodded. I didn't think I really wanted another father figure in my life when I was such a sissy. “What do you do for a living? I've never been in such a nice house and you have so many nice things.”

“My late husband was very wealthy. I don't have to work at all. I do have a little side business making dresses for little girls though. You're going to be my little model when you're ready,” she said with a smile.

I groaned, “Do you have any other children?”

She paused and stared out the window for a few moments, her face looking slightly distressed. I had to cough to regain her attention.

“No, you're an only child, Samantha,” she told me in a monotone.

“What am I going to do about...school and stuff?” I asked.

She shrugged. “That's going to be up to you. If you want, I would be happy to homeschool you. I have the time and I would love to spend it with my little sissy daughter. I think you might feel a bit smothered by that though. The local public school is always an option. It's a very nice school district. They would be very accommodating for your special needs. Either way, you'll be starting over as a twelve year old in grade six, not at your old grade. You've been doing terribly at school and I'm going to make sure that gets put right this time. You're such a smart little girl, always reading books and such, you have no excuse for not doing better.”

She really knew a lot about me. My parents had been discussing my adoption with her for months and she took her role as my mother very seriously. I tried to explain that my problems at school were my sister's fault too but she told me it didn't matter what the cause was, it just had to be fixed.

“Speaking of books...” I asked her if I could buy a new science-fiction book to pass the time since I was unable to use my computer or watch television.

She laughed, “Don't be silly Samantha, you have a bookshelf full of books in your room I'm sure you've never read. Read them for now and when you're done we can talk about getting you new books. In fact, I have some work to do now that needs to be finished before your salon appointment later. I'll get you a book and you can read quietly until it's time to go.”

She chose a book for me. It was “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. “This was my favorite book when I was your age,” she told me, “Come along and let me show you something.” She took my hand and led me out to the rear of the house. In the yard was the most amazing garden I had ever seen. It was full of beautiful flowers and ponds and carefully arranged rocks and sculptures and fountains. There was also a large vegetable garden and a well manicured lawn. The yard was surrounded by a tall hedge for privacy.

I complimented her, “You have a beautiful garden, Mother.”

She smiled at me, “We have a beautiful garden, Samantha. Remember, helping me is going to be part of your chores. I don't think you'll see it as work though, it's a peaceful and calming hobby and I think it's just the sort of thing a sensitive sissy boy like yourself will enjoy.”

I pouted at her characterization and she left me sitting on a bench amidst the flowers to read. I had little interest in what appeared to be such a girly book but with no other recourse for my boredom I dived in. It was about a ten year old British girl named Mary Lennox. She was born in India to very rich parents who mostly didn't want her around and left her care to the servants. She was spoiled and angry and rude. Eventually her parents died of cholera and she was forced to move back to England to live in a large manor with a relative. I stopped reading in frustration. It wasn't a bad book so far, it was actually well written and engaging, but it seemed so dreary and depressing. Why would my new Mother leave me in such a beautiful garden with such a dreary book?

With nothing to occupy my mind I thought about what I usually ended up thinking of when I was depressed.

-

I was trying to do my homework. I had a test to study for and I had been failing so many lately that I just had to catch up, but every time I tried to study, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!” she screeched.

“No, Kelly. I have to study. Can't we play tomorrow?” I begged my little sister.

She giggled at me, “If you want to study so bad you better try and win the game for once!” She charged at me and pulled my chair back and down. I tumbled out of it and she pinned me down quickly, kneeling over me with two legs on each side of my body holding down my arms. She laughed at me. She started to pinch my cheeks and taunt me, “Aww! What a cutey sissy little sister I have! Isn't that right, Samantha?”

“I'm not playing, please not today,” I whined.

She stuck two of her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them, coating them with saliva. She popped them out and stuck them in my ears and swirled them around. I shuddered in disgust and tried to shove her off to no avail. My little sister was giving me a wet willy and making me scream like a girl, “Ewww! Ewww! Stop it! I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

She smiled at me, “I knew you didn't want to wait to play your favorite game. And guess what? Since you want to do homework so much I'll let you once you're properly dressed. Put on your GoodNites and come to my room!”

Well, at least I could get my work done, or so I thought, but she had me tricked yet again. Twenty minutes later I was dressed in one of her old Easter dresses. It was a sleeveless white organza dress with built in crinoline. The skirt and bodice were embroidered with fanciful butterflies. There was a lilac sash adorned with a large lilac butter fly trailing ribbons below it. There was another butterfly pinned in my hair and I wore white tights and sandals.

She pointed her camera at me and started recording after making me memorize a script to recite along with properly enthusiastic girly-girl mannerisms. It was just more evidence she could use to blame me for stealing her clothes if Mom and Dad ever started to believe their little angel Kelly was really beating me up and forcing me to do it.

“Hi, Mom and Dad, my name is Samantha and I'm your precious little bedwetting sissy daughter. I hate being a boy so much!” I stamp my foot, “I want to be a little girly-girl all the time which is why I'm always stealing my sister's clothes! It's just not fair that she gets to wear scrumptious Easter dresses like this one,” I curtsy to the camera, “and I'm not allowed to wear anything but stupid ugly pants. Please can I be a girl forever? Pleassssssssse,” I whine. I clasp my hands together and hold them in front of me and bounce up and down repeating, “Please please please pleassssssssse!”

When I was done my sister laughed at me uproariously. “You are such a perfect sister's little sissy! I can't believe you let me do this to you. No older brother in the world besides you could possibly be such a puss!”

I whined, “Kelly, you said you would let me do my homework when I was dressed. Please just leave me alone.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “I never said you could do your homework. I only said you could do homework. Mine!”

I spent an hour doing all of her work for her while she talked on the phone with her friends and kept making fun of me. When I was finally done I begged her to let me change and go back to my homework.

“I don't think so,” she told me, “How about instead you go downstairs and play with my dollhouse?”

I replied in fear, “But Kelly, Mom and Dad are going to be home soon. I can't get caught dressed like this again. You know what they're talking about doing to me.”

She smirked, “Well I guess you'll just have to be very careful to listen for them and run back upstairs when you hear them, not a moment sooner. If you don't cooperate I'm just going to show them the little video we just made.”

I was shaking with fear as I knelt in front of the dollhouse downstairs. Kelly watched me from the couch and encouraged me to play enthusiastically. I was forced to take four dolls and act out my day. The mommy and daddy dolls waited by the door while I played with the two child sized dolls.

I had to put on an enthusiastic girl's voice and yell, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!” while holding up the little girl doll and then act out that doll beating up the boy doll. She ordered me to, in an even girlier voice, make the boy doll give the obligatory reply. Then I switched the doll's clothes. I kept acting out our little adventure for a while until I suddenly heard a bump. In a flash I made a run for the stairs. My sister raced after me with an excited smile on her face. She tripped me. I hit my knee and started to cry while she raced upstairs before my parents could see her. My parents found me in my sister's frilly Easter dress on the ground with my skirt up at my waist putting my GoodNites on display under the tights. I realized I was still holding the dolls and dropped them. From their point of view, they just caught their son playing alone with dolls and a dollhouse in a frilly white and lilac dress he stole from his sister.

Boy did I get it for that one. My parents instantly connected my choice of underwear with my apparent bedwetting problems and thought it meant I wasn't even trying to stay dry anymore or act like a boy. They punished me as hard as they ever had in an attempt to toughen me up and get the boy back in me. It wasn't my fault though, nothing they were doing would help my situation.

-

Mother held my hand as we entered the salon. The stylist smiled at me. She was a plump, friendly looking woman with black hair, “Hello, I'm Terry,” she introduced herself.

Mother replied with a smile, “This is my adopted little daughter Samantha. She is here for her full makeover.”

Terry addressed her and I felt invisible like a small child while the adults are talking. “Well, she seems like quite the tomboy, but we can sort that all out and bring out the girly-girl in her.”

“Oh no,” Mother replied casually, “Not a tomboy, she isn't a boyish girl at all, just the opposite. She was born a boy and now wants to act like the true prissy girl she always was on the inside.”

Terry smiled down at me, “Oh, you're so brave and special! Don't worry, I'll work extra hard to make sure you are the prettiest little girl in town!”

Mother pinched me gently to prompt me to reply, “Thank you, Terry.”

Mother introduced me to another woman named Bridgette who is a friend of hers. She was a pretty woman with fiery red hair and green eyes. I curtsied for her, “Hello Bridgette, I'm Samantha.”

She replied, “Oh what a cute little doll you are. You're very lucky to have a Mother like Mrs. Donovan who'll let you be your true self. I think you two are going to get along great together.”

As Terry led me to the styling chair and began to work I could hear Mother and Bridgette talking in quiet tones while Bridgette waited for her appointment to start. I couldn't hear much but I made out the words “poor dear” and “wets the bed” and “plastic cover.” I blushed as Bridgette looks at me with genuine sympathy and extreme pity and wondered just what I would look like when my appointment at the salon was complete.

Chapter 6 — Let's Play Panty Thief

“I don't want to take piano lessons, Mother,” I whined.

She patted my head and gently tugged at the french braid in my sandy blonde hair that was the highlight of my new style. “I can't wait until your hair grows longer,” she mused.

“Mother, did you hear me?” I asked.

She smiled at me. “Just give it a few lessons, if you don't have fun we can find something else for you to do with yourself.” After she was done primping my hair she proceeded to help me do my makeup until I looked just like I had after my makeover. Nothing slutty or fancy or too grown up, just enough makeup to make me look naturally feminine.

When I was done I stood in front of the mirror and observed. I wore a mint green sundress with white polka dots, frilly anklets, white Mary Janes, and a pearl necklace that belonged to Mother. My fingernails were painted light pink and my hair and makeup were immaculate. Nobody would look at me and see anything other than a twelve year old girl. Well, they might think I was younger than twelve. With that embarrassing thought I again felt those funny feelings under the pink satin panties I wore.

Mother saw me squirm. “It's okay, Dear. Just like I told you, all it means is that deep down you know this is who you really are.”

“But, Mother, it makes me feel so weird. Like...vulnerable and exposed and helpless...it shouldn't feel good,” I whined.

She smiled at me, “Maybe a boy shouldn't feel that way. But all little sissy girls like you feel this way about their clothes. When you get used to them, you'll start to be able to control it and only let that part of you shine through when you want to.”

I hoped she was right about controlling it, but I didn't know if I would ever want to share it. It was just too embarrassing. The doorbell rang.

“Go answer the door, Samantha. That will be your teacher,” she instructed me.

“Yes, Mother,” I replied. As I made my way toward the door I stopped in shock. Two more packages of girl's GoodNites were sitting on a table in the foyer. We had needed to stock up because I had managed to wet the bed every single night since I had moved in. It had never been this bad before. Mother said I must be finding the move too stressful. I went to hide the packages but the doorbell rang again before I could.

“Samantha Anne Donovan! Answer the door this instant!” I heard from upstairs. With a red face I immediately complied. Three names always meant business I was learning. I opened the door and quickly bobbed a polite curtsey while starring at the ground in red faced shame.

My piano teacher greeted me, “Well hello, Samantha! So good to see you again!”

I looked up for the first time, “Oh. Hello, Bridgette. So good to see you too,” I replied. I must always be mindful of my manners. Mother insists.

As she entered the house I slowly put myself between her and my embarrassing nighttime undergarments on the table. Unfortunately, she was tall enough to see right over me to what I was hiding.

She patted me on the head and gave me a hug, “Awwww, don't be embarrassed, Samantha. Your mother already told me about your little problem. My daughter had bedwetting issues until she was seven. I totally understand what you're going through.”

It was so frustrating being patronized like that. I wanted to scream, “I'm not a seven year old girl or a twelve year old girl and I shouldn't be wetting the bed!” but I knew I had to remain polite and well mannered for Mother.

“What a lovely dress!” she exclaimed, “Do a twirl for me.”

I obediently obliged her as Mother came downstairs to greet her friend. I stood quietly while I waited for them to finish chatting and then Bridgette led me over to the piano. I had never played a musical instrument before and I didn't even know how to read music so I was a bit intimidated. Mother noticed and reassured me, “You're a very bright little girl, Samantha, and Bridgette is an excellent teacher. Just work at it and practice every day and you'll pick everything up in no time.”

I was handed a new copy of the house rules later that night. Working at it was to be mandatory, it seemed.

11. YOU WILL PRACTICE THE PIANO FOR 45 MINUTES EVERY DAY. NO EXCEPTIONS!

The lesson wasn't so bad. Bridgette did seem to be a good teacher and she explained everything so it was very clear and easy to understand. She was quick to answer all my questions and never looked angry when I messed up.

After the lesson I donned my apron. “Mother's Little Helper,” it proclaimed me, and that's what I had become. Mother and I were a practiced team in the kitchen and with two people so in sync it hardly seemed like work at all. The three of us went out to a table in the garden. Mother and Bridgette chatted and gossiped while I served the tea and sandwiches.

“Such a helpful little girl, isn't she?” Bridgette asked.

Mother smiled,“A perfectly well mannered little Miss,” she proclaimed me.

After lunch I sat nearby and went back to reading my book. Mary's maid had told her a story about a secret garden in the large manor where she was staying. Mrs. Craven, the wife of Mary's Uncle who owned the manor had spent hours every day tending to roses in her garden. When she died Mr. Craven had hidden away the key to the garden forever.

Mary started to form friendships and lose her angry and rude dispossession. She would play with her skipping rope and explore the moor around the manor while wondering about the secret garden and the tragedy behind it everyone seemed to ignore.

“What are you reading, Samantha?” Bridgette asked.

I held up the book so she could see the cover but didn't answer. I just kept reading. It was still a depressing story, but I wanted to know how it would end.

“Don't be rude, Samantha. Come join us,” Mother chided me. With a sigh I put down the book to returned to the table.

Bridgette smiled at me, “So, your mother tells me you're going back to school in the fall. Are you excited?”

I nodded unconvincingly, “Sixth grade.” I burned at the demotion to a sixth grader but I had no choice. I was being demoted right out of middle school. I would be riding a bus with first graders and the rest of the elementary school kids again.

“That's nice,” Bridgette said, “A student of mine named Marcie should be in your class. I can introduce you at your first piano recital so you have a little friend already for your first day back in school!”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied.

Being stuck with Mother all the time was becoming more and more smothering. I knew school would be a humiliating disaster but Mother told me I could change my mind and be homeschooled, or go to a boarding school or military school as a boy, any time I wanted. I hated that she always offered to let me be a boy again but only in a way I knew would be terrible for me. It just proved to me over and over how weak and pathetic I was.

“We talked and talked about it before we finally agreed she should go back,” Mother explained.

Still, I felt like arguing some more. “But what if they find out I'm really a boy?” I asked.

Mother smiled at me, “We can't hide who you are, Samantha. The principal will explain to the whole school about your special status. They've dealt with this before.”

I pouted, “So the kids will make fun of me for sure.”

Bridgette broke in, “Oh no. And if they do you go right to the teacher and tell on them.”

“But I don't want to be a tattle...” I started.

Mother interrupted, “Samantha Anne Donovan, calling you a tattle tale is just another way of saying you're a good little girl. If people break the rules the teacher should know. I expect you to be a perfect little teacher's pet and you'll be in big trouble if you aren't!”

I whined, “But the other kids will pick on me. The boys will bully me and try and beat me up.”

“Teacher.” Mother and Bridgette replied in unison.

Mother added, “Any time anyone is mean to you or ABSOLUTELY if they try and hit you all you have to do is cry and ask a teacher or a bigger kid for help.”

I was near tears now already, “But I can't just go to the teacher and come off as weak and helpless. I have to stand up for myself and be brave. Nobody will respect me otherwise and it will just make things worse,” I was crying by the time I was finished, making a mockery of the idea I could be brave.

Mother moved close and hugged me tightly. “You poor dear, you really still don't understand, do you? You're a girl now. Little girls can cry and ask someone else to protect them all they want and nobody thinks less of them for it. Do you know what happens when a boy has a crying fit like this at school?”

I certainly did and it made me bawl even more.

Mother went on, “Yes, they call him a cry baby and beat him up and they totally lose respect for him. But Samantha, do you know what happens when a little girl cries?”

I shook my head.

Mother spoke one simple word, “Nothing.”

Bridgette added, “Nothing but hugs and kisses and everything possible to make her feel better. Girls can cry whenever they want. Isn't it so much better for a shy, sensitive, quiet, loving, pretty little person like yourself to be a girl?”

My head was spinning.

Bridgette went on, “...or I guess you could try life the boy's way again. Having to act all tough and never complain or cry and being treated like you're a rock and nothing matters to you.”

Why did all this make sense to me? “It's just that easy? Being a girl can't be so easy...”

“Of course not, Samantha,” Mother said, “It's just as difficult in it's own way. You're expected to always look pretty. If you act too angry they call you a bitch. Too cold and they call you frigid. People will think you're not as smart as a boy. They won't think you can be a leader. It's harder to get a job and they will pay you less for just as much work and still expect you to have a perfect family life as well,” She looked at me very seriously, “But Samantha, these are all challenges someone with your temperament is much better suited to deal with than what a boy faces. You're already pretty, you are warm and loving and have a great smile, you're extremely bright, and I know you will grow into an amazing woman who can take on any challenge.”

My heart was beating through my chest. I hugged her tightly. I didn't quite believe her, but it was a nice thing to say in a way. I started to think about my experiences in my old school, the last time I was in sixth grade.

-

She had cornered me and dragged me into a girl's bathroom. It was marked out of order so nobody would come in but they had forgotten to lock the doors. She was pulling at my hair violently.

“Owwww! We can't play it at school, Kelly. I'll get in trouble!” I insisted.

My sister replied menacingly, “I don't remember making that rule and I invented this game after all!” She dragged me into a stall and forced my head down towards the toilet bowl.

“Noooo!” I screamed with my face an inch away from the water.

“Better keep quiet, little sister,” she told me, “If you don't want the rest of the school to find out about your little nighttime troubles. Remember those pictures I took this morning of you and your wet bed and girly diaper?”

“They aren't diapers,” I whined, pointlessly. What did it matter?

She just laughed and taunted me in a baby voice, “Aww, my bedwetty wittle sister think just because they call her diapers 'Undergarments' in the marketing that changes what they are. You can call this a facial if you want!” She stuck my face in the water and flushed. I gurgled and cried and then she pulled my face out of the bowl.

“Again?” she asked.

“Please no, Kelly,” I begged in reply, “I'll do whatever you want.”

“We've been playing this game for so long. How could you still be confused about the rules?” she asked before dunking my face back in the water.

“Ahhhhhh! Stop it! I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “The whole school, Samantha? I don't think that's such a good idea.” She handed me a pair of panties. “Just these should do, we can play more after school and talk about letting everyone else know if you really want. I'll dress you up like a fairy princess and you can write out a long letter to the school explaining what a girly-girl you are and begging them to let you go back to Kindergarten! It's gonna be great!”

The panties were pink and white and covered in images of Tinker Bell and colorful flowers. “But Kelly, these aren't even yours. Where did you get these?” I asked.

She laughed, “Oh, you want to buy a few more pairs? I think you should stick to your diapers, Betsy Wetsy. These will do for now though. Just try and keep them dry.”

In tears I pulled down my pants and my sister confiscated my boy's underwear. I pulled up the panties. My little sister gave me a quick slap on the behind and I jumped.

She was quite amused at the site of me as I rubbed my butt before pulling my pants back up and drying my face. “Wow, Samantha, stuck in pink Tinker Bell panties for the rest of the day at school. This must be pretty humiliating for you,” she mocked.

That was an understatement.

The door opened and a teacher looked in. “What's going on in here?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, Mrs. Smith. I was just having a rough day and my older brother came to talk to me and cheer me up,” Kelly replied.

Mrs. Smith nodded, “Okay, Kelly. I hope you feel better soon. Both of you get back to class when you're done.”

My little sister. She was such a master manipulator. The teacher didn't even consider she might be up to no good in there, not for a second. We left the bathroom and Kelly waved goodbye to me.

Nobody could see the panties through my thick pants but I couldn't escape the feelings they aroused in me, that weird tingling down there and the butterflies in my stomach and that feeling of weakness and exposure. I think boys must be programmed to see weakness in other boys or smell it out somehow. I encountered two bullies named Mike and Steve. They had never really bothered me much before. Aside from my little sister, not many people did seem to target me that much. I may have been weak and wimpy but I could project an air of confidence when I needed to. But not when I was wearing some little girl's Tinker Bell panties. They slammed me into a locker and I just barely started to cry, just one little tear, but before the end of the day I was sure everyone would hear about it and other bullies would be paying more attention to me in the future.

That wasn't even the most traumatic part of my day though. A few hours after I returned to class the Vice-Principal came to my classroom and pulled the teacher out to talk in the hall. In a few moments all of the boys were herded out of the class and heading to the office. All I could think about was how miserable I was being stuck in girl's underwear at school. I hadn't been able to clear my head for even a moment. We were lined up in front of the office and were being led in to see the Vice-Principal one by one.

The first boy came out of the office laughing hysterically and explained what was going on even though he had been strictly warned not to. Someone had stolen a pair of panties from the backpack of a second grader. She occasionally had wetting problems and needed to bring backup just in case. Apparently, an anonymous source had told the principal all about it even though the girl hadn't noticed the panties were missing yet. The source said that the perpetrator was a boy in our class. I fumed. I was dead certain who the source was and that she was obviously the thief.

I wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. I wanted to run away in a panic, but that would only confirm the guilty party. One by one the boys went in. I imagined with dread what would happen. If they caught me everyone would know. Everyone would call me a sissy and a panty thief and a freak forever.

My name was called and I entered the office, shaking from nervousness.

“Empty your pockets,” the Vice-Principal ordered me.

“Okay, Okay. I can do this,” I thought, “They won't even think to see if a boy is wearing them. They think it was just a prank, a juvenile version of a panty raid.” I emptied my pockets and he examined the contents.

He went on, “Empty your bag.”

I emptied my bag and he searched the contents.

“Do you know anything about a stolen pair of panties, Jimmy?” he asked me.

“No, Sir,” I replied nervously. The tingle down there was at extreme intensity and the sound of my heartbeat was banging in my ears.

“Very well, pick up your things and send in the next boy,” he told me.

I sighed with relief. I made it. “Yes, Sir,” I replied. I quickly repacked my bag and turned around to leave.

“One moment, stop right there,” the Vice-Principal said suddenly. He walked up from behind me and looked closely. I felt dizzy like I was about to pass out. My pants must have sagged down a bit when I was rooting through my pockets.

He waited several moments. It felt like an eternity to me.

Finally he said, “Hmmm, wrong color. These aren't the panties we're looking for. Send in the next boy, but I'll be having a talk with your parents about this. You should pull up your pants more, Jimmy, I can't imagine what will happen to you if some bully finds out.”

My brain was numb with shock as I walked out and it stayed that way for the rest of the school day. On the bus I saw my sister talking and laughing with a much younger girl. Kelly insisted I sit with them. I didn't want to be anywhere near her then or ever. I sat and listened to them explain what an awesome prank they had pulled on the school by pretending the little girl's panties were stolen. I never did find out where the panties I was wearing really came from. As soon as I got home I met a very angry Dad with a phone in his hands. He took the panties from me and I never saw them again. Thank goodness.

-

As I recalled that day I drifted away from the conversation again and wandered through the garden. I saw a small cocoon. I didn't know what it was until I asked Mother and she told me it would grow into a butterfly. My old parents had never been into gardening or nature stuff. After that she sent me in to practice the piano. Apparently a lesson doesn't count as a daily practice.

Forty-five minutes of “Mary Had A Little Lamb.” I think I mastered it. Bridgette clapped for me and gave me some finger exercises to practice before she left so I could relieve the monotony the rest of the week.

I was fascinated by the cocoon and I started to go to the garden to watch it whenever I could. One day a couple weeks later it was gone and I was sad. I had wanted to see the the butterfly emerge myself.

I was disappointed and I became whiny and grouchy with Mother, which was happening more and more. I still behaved and followed the rules but she could see I was acting coldly and with obvious passive aggression. She determined I was just spending too much time around the house and needed space. I kind of agreed, but I didn't like how she went about giving it to me.

She handed me my pink iPhone to put in the small white purse I was carrying. “Now Samantha, it has a GPS tracker so I always know where you are and I've programmed in emergency numbers and the house. No talking to strangers. Have a nice walk.”

I was wearing a red and white checkered gingham dress with petticoats, white sandals, and Mother's pearl necklace which I was now beginning to think of as my own. She had given me a skipping rope (for exercise) and I carried my book. I was instructed to walk to the local park and not to come back for two hours.

The neighbors got their first real glimpse of the new girl on their street that day. What they saw was an overly prissy young lady in a girly-girl dress with her hair in a french braid. She was most likely shy since she was walking alone with only a book for company. They must have thought she looked sweet. A nice little neighbor to have. It's too bad she hasn't made any friends yet they would think. I hope she comes out of her shell they would say. A girl needs a BFF.

Well, it turns out that day at the park I would finally find one.

Chapter 7 — Let's Play Dress-Up Twins

I skipped along through the park with my jump rope. I still always felt so strange when I was wearing a dress. They may be cool and comfortable but I felt exposed. Not wearing pants made me feel like I wasn't wearing anything at all. I felt weak and frivolous and delicate like I was one of the little flowers in our garden. Playing with the girly jump rope just made all those feelings grow stronger and stronger.

When I was tired out I sat on a bench in the park with my nose in my book. Mary had discovered the key to the secret garden and found it dead and abandoned. Along with a friend named Dickon she began to start tending to it again to bring it back to life.

I looked up from my book and saw a girl with brown curly hair wearing a green sundress sitting on the bench opposite me. She also had a book in her hands. She was staring across at me until I looked up at her. Her eyes widened and she covered her face with her book, which was clearly upside down.

I giggled at her. With her cheeks red she turned the book over and pretended to be oblivious to me. I began to walk over towards her. I'm not sure why I did it. I was naturally shy, like she clearly was, but I was drawn towards her for some reason. It was strange. As our friendship developed and grew over the years it was clear I was the more shy and sensitive one, she would always take care of me, but if I didn't take the initiative then who knows if any of that would ever have happened?

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she squeaked before intently focusing back on her book.

I smoothed my skirt below me as I sat down next to her. I went back to my reading. She did her best to pretend I wasn't there. After twenty minutes or so we seemed relaxed enough not to mind each others presence even though neither of us dared look up from our books. We read in silence for quite some time.

Suddenly I heard a ringing and a vibration from my purse. I was dumbfounded at the activity for a moment before I remembered the phone Mother had given me. I answered it.

“Samantha, you were supposed to be home by now. Is everything okay?” she asked.

I was shocked, having entirely lost track of time. “Yes, Mother. I'll start home right away,” I responded and hung up the phone.

The girl was watching me. “The new iPhone?” she asked me, “Can I see it?”

I handed the pink phone over to her and she began to fiddle with it. I had never had a cell phone before and though I appreciated the style factor of my new phone I had no idea exactly what I could do with it besides making calls.

She handed it back to me. “Bye,” she said as she went back to her book. In confusion I took back the phone and started to walk home.

“What a pair we made,” I thought. Her and I in our cute prissy dresses reading our books, I haven't matched someone like that since...

-

We were around the corner from the department store. I was wearing my GoodNites under my boy's clothes.

Kelly had me pinned against the wall while I whined about not wanting to go in. She lectured me, “I won the game fair and square just like always. If you didn't want to come and try on a matching dress with me you should have kept fighting instead of telling me what a prissy little sissy-girly you are!” She shoved me back into the wall as I tried to squirm away.

Two older boys turned the corner and saw the boy being bullied by the little girl and started laughing hysterically. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

One of the boys stopped laughing long enough to say, “Why don't you leave him alone, little girl? It's not nice to pick on little faggots like that.”

“We're just playing a game,” she replied cheerfully. She turned to me, “Should we tell them more about our game or are you ready to go inside and keep playing now?”

I stared at the ground and nodded. She grabbed me by the wrist and started to lead me into the store while the two boys kept laughing. She let go of my wrist and ordered me to follow directly behind her like a little puppy dog and I obeyed with a red face, fists balled in frustration, and my eyes locked on the ground. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see we were entering the girl's department.

I heard the cheerful voice of the saleslady before I saw her, “Can I help you, young lady?” she asked.

My sister smiled as she replied, “Of course, I'm looking for a matching dress for my brother and I.”

The sales lady paused for a moment before replying, “You mean you want a dress and a boy's outfit to match it?”

Kelly giggled and shook her head, “No, two matching dresses! You see, my brother here tries on my clothes and models them for me all the time but I was curious what we would look like together if we wore the same dress.”

I looked up at the saleslady, a pretty teenager with blonde hair with a name-tag that said “Becky.” The humiliation was devastating. I was shaking and blushing and there were butterflies in my stomach and the usual strange tingling under my GoodNites was as strong as I had ever felt it before. In a shaky voice I protested, “She makes me wear them.”

Becky laughed, “Oh, you don't have to pretend little boy. A sweet little girl like that forcing you to wear her clothes? Don't be silly, you need a better excuse if you're going to try and act like you don't like it. I watched you following her over here without a single complaint.”

With that we set to work looking for dresses. The goal was ostensibly to find something that would look good on both of us but I was the entire focus. Kelly or Becky would squeal excitedly when they saw something they liked and held it up against me to see how it would look. They made sure to make quite a scene. I kept staring at the ground but I could hear people laughing and I just knew everyone, male and female, who walked by was looking over at the boy in the girl's department having dresses held up to him with derision.

Finally they selected several dresses and we headed towards the changing rooms. “Isn't this so exciting, Samantha?” my sister squealed, “Trying on dresses together!”

Becky laughed, “He has a girl's name too?”

Kelly smiled at her, “Of course, a little girly-girl like him has to have one!”

I groaned, but I knew there was nothing I could do.

“The pink one first!” Kelly insisted.

In the changing room I took off my clothes and looked uncomfortably at myself in the mirror in only my GoodNites before slipping on the pink dress. I once again turned unhappily to the mirror. It was a tea length pink floral print chiffon dress with a tie on bow on the front and a three tier skirt. Without any makeup or hair styling it was clear the person wearing it was a boy.

“Hurry up, little sis!” I heard from outside the changing room along with the giggles of the saleslady.

With my knees shaking I left the dressing room. The two girl's faces brightened with amusement as they saw me. My sister grabbed me by the hand and led me over to the mirror with Becky following behind us.

“Oh, you two look absolutely adorable!” Becky squealed. Several other shoppers came over to see what the commotion was about and started to laugh as they saw a boy posing in front of a mirror in a pink flowery dress that matched his sister's.

Kelly made me twirl and curtsey and hold various girly poses while she did the same next to me. She handed her camera to Becky and insisted I smile for a picture. I was made to hold a curtsey pose while Kelly stood next to me with her hands outstretched as if presenting me to the world. I could see some of the people gathered taking photos as well.

Next we tried on a knee length sleeveless satin dress with an organza trim cut-out on the bodice and a crinoline underskirt. There was a flower pinned to the pleated sash. She wore a black version and I wore a white version. I couldn't do the zipper on the back by myself and I had to ask my sister for help. I felt like such a sissy as she zipped up my dress and I did the same for her. She shoved me out of the dressing room and Becky gushed over my appearance. I turned around, suspicious of what my sister was up to behind me, but only a moment later she followed and we walked to the mirror arm in arm.

After another session of primping in front of the mirror Becky took another picture. I faced forward with my hands neatly folded and resting on my skirt while Kelly faced sideways with her hands on her hips while looking over her shoulder towards the camera with a saucy smirk. She was the naughty girl in the black dress and I was the good girly boy in white.

“He's precious! You two are so cute together!” Becky exclaimed.

As I was changing into our next outfit the door suddenly swung open while I was still only in my GoodNites. My sister gave a mock apology as she closed the door, “Oh, sorry sis, I thought you would be ready by now!” From outside I could hear Becky laughing and my sister mentioning the word, “Bedwetter.”

In renewed shame I slipped on the next dress. It was a knee length turquoise dress with spaghetti straps, a sequiny bodice, a cute bow at the waist, and a bubble skirt. It came with a matching shawl. We posed with my sister smiling and myself giving her a peck on the cheek with my left foot lifted up in the air behind me as Becky snapped another picture.

“You are just the cutest sister and sissy-sis ever!” Becky announced.

We tried on several more outfits until Kelly was satisfied. She decided to buy the black and white satin dresses. If she had bought anything that matched color Mom and Dad might wonder why she needed two of the exact same dress.

“Bye, you two!” Becky said as she finalized the sale, “I hope you stay dry tonight, Samantha!” she added as I walked away. At least I was back in my boy's clothes and done with being humiliated for the day. Or so I thought.

As we exited the store there was a sudden noise. In a flash Kelly sprinted away with her shopping bags while I just stood there in confusion. It was the shoplifting alarm. I started to walk away but a security guard grabbed me, “Empty your pockets,” he said.

Thinking I had nothing to fear I quickly started to obey but my hand froze when it hit my pocket. There was something there. Kelly must have put it there when she was in my dressing room. I pulled the object out. It was a pair of lacy purple boyshort panties with black ribbons on the side. In numb shock I looked up at the security guard. He pulled me back into the store as I begged and pleaded for him not to call the police. I started to cry in terror of what was about to happen to me when all of a sudden Becky came to my rescue.

“Oh Hank, leave that poor confused boy alone!” she insisted. “He's just jealous of his sister and too embarrassed to admit he wanted to buy them. Isn't that right?” she asked me.

I nodded in desperation, arguing with an employee trying to get me out of this didn't seem like a good idea.

The security guard sighed. “Little weirdo, well I won't call the police. But we better notify his parents.”

I groaned. Dad would not be happy when he came to pick up his son after he got caught trying to steal panties. Even so, it was better than the alternative. I turned to Becky with tears still in my eyes, “Thank you, Becky.”

She pinched my cheek, “Sure thing, Samantha. Hey, but where did your sister run off to?”

“I don't know,” I replied, but the truth was the same as it ever was. When her trap for me was sprung she would be nowhere to be found.

-

Mother kept sending me out to the park in my prissy dresses. I became a regular sight around the neighborhood. Every once in a while I ran into the girl I had met before. We would sit close together but we were both too shy to really talk. I would read my book or skip rope while she played with my iPhone or read her own books. She was reading “Little Women.” I promised to read it when I was finished with “The Secret Garden.” She offered to loan me her copy but I knew I had one on my bookshelf full of books Mother had picked out.

A few weeks later I had my first piano recital. I wore an ankle length A-line light blue organza dress with a blue flower pinned into my french braided hair. I had on white tights and light blue shoes with a small heel. I was the newest student and still a beginner so I went first. The piece was not very hard and when you practice so much every single day it's easy to get it right. I received polite applause and gave a prissy little curtsy as instructed. I couldn't believe how tame and girly I had become. It was almost as if Mother was showing that off as much as I was showing off my piano playing skills.

I was very bored as the other students performed. Mother had to nudge me repeatedly to sit up straight and compose myself like a little lady.

Only the final performance, the most advanced student, interested me. My mouth fell open as I saw her. It was my brown haired friend from the park. She played a selection from something called the “Goldberg Variations” by Bach. I was only a step above “Mary Had A Little Lamb” but I already knew enough about the piano that it was clear it would be years and years, if ever, that I could match what this young girl was doing. She must be some sort of prodigy. She received a standing ovation from the audience of parents and fellow students and I was the first on my feet.

After the recital was over people began to mingle and talk. Mother led me straight over to Bridgette who was talking to the brown haired girl. Bridgette smiled at me, “Samantha, this is Marcie, the girl I was telling you about!”

Both our faces turned red as we looked at each other and realized at the same time that we had both been too shy to learn each other's name. “Hello, Samantha. Nice to meet you,” Marcie said, obviously not wanting to call attention to it.

“Hi, Marcie. It's nice to meet you too,” I replied.

Mother suddenly burst into laughter. “She's your little friend from the park you were telling me about, isn't she, Samantha? I suspected as much when you described her.”

Our faces turned red. Bridgette joined in the laughing, “Oh, these two are perfect for each other! Run along while Mrs. Donovan and I chat,” she instructed us.

We sat next to each other. Shyly I complimented her on her piano playing.

She blushed, obviously preferring to be modest about her advanced skill, “Maybe I could come over and help you practice sometime?” she asked me. “Oh, not that you're not good already!” she added nervously thinking she might have offended me.

I blushed. It was hard not to be intimidated by how good she was but I wasn't offended. “I do practice a lot but I just started. I wouldn't mind some help.”

Marcie looked relieved, “Bridgette says we're going to be in the same class for school.”

I nodded, still dreading going back to sixth grade.

“Oh, that's nice,” she replied. She took my phone from me and started playing with it. I still had no idea how to use it but my new friend seemed really into it so that night I read the manual and learned how to use it. It was actually really cool. When I looked at the contact list I saw that Marcie had already added herself to the list. It was a very short list. Mother and Marcie were the only friends I had. But maybe, I started to think, they aren't bad friends to have.

Chapter 8 — Let's Play Pool Princess

I woke up from a bad dream the morning of my first day back in sixth grade. I had been standing in front of my old class at school giving a report when suddenly I realized I was wearing nothing but lacy anklet socks, pearl white patent leather Mary Janes, and a pair of white cotton panties decorated with lavender flowers. I looked at my fingernails and saw them painted in matching lavender polish. I was holding a bouquet of purple flowers in one hand and a fancy, old fashioned doll in a prissy lavender dress in the other. I reached up to my hair and felt it tied up in a pony tail with a ribbon and I could tell my face was made up as well. The entire class was pointing and laughing at the tent in my panties. I reached down to cover myself up with the flowers and the doll but they only laughed harder. I wet myself in fear and the urine ran down my leg to the floor of the classroom before I burst awake from the terrible fantasy. The humiliating warm wetness, however, was real. I could feel the flow stopping as I awoke.

I rolled out of bed and stood, my legs wobbled. In a numb haze I started to walk from my room. On the way I passed my prissy lavender back-to-school dress as it hung on the door of my closet, ready and waiting. I knocked quietly on Mother's door before entering. I realized I was up half an hour early. I sat down on the bed beside her and started to cry. In a few moments I felt her stir awake and put her arm around me.

“Samantha, what's wrong?” Mother asked.

“I'm wet again. I don't wanna go to school. I'm just a big bed wetting baby. I want to stay here with you,” I whined.

She comforted me for a few minutes until my crying and whining subsided. She looked over at the clock and realized it was early, “Samantha, did you wake up when it was happening, dear?

Ashamed of myself, I nodded, “Yes, Mother.”

She smiled and tried to encourage me, “Well, that's progress, Samantha. It never happened before. You almost made it through the night and you almost woke up in time! Your bedwetting days will be over soon, trust me! You're not a baby and you ARE going to school today. If it doesn't work out I told you I will homeschool you but you made this decision and you have to see it through. Now go and get ready.”

“Yes, Mother,” I replied with a pout.

A little while later I was glumly helping Mother make breakfast. My apron covered my back to school outfit to keep it bright and clean. I wore a lavender reverse knot ruffle dress. The fabric was soft and light and the print was accented with jewels and crowns and tiaras, emphasizing what a pampered little princess I had become. There was a white ruffle at the hem with purple polka dots. I wore a white cardigan and white tights and lavender canvas Mary Janes with a white flower on the buckle.

The french braid in my hair had grown long over the months and it hung down over my shoulder onto my chest where I saw the lavender bow that tied it off. I wore my pearl necklace as usual, clip on gold earrings with a purple stone, and Mother had given me two thin white gold and diamond bracelets to wear. She warned me they were expensive and that I had to be very careful not to lose them. I was only half listening as I admired the small sparkly diamonds, but if she had told me how expensive they really were I probably would have been too afraid to leave the house with them. In truth, with my expensive dress and jewelry and pink designer bookbag my entire ensemble was worth more than my old family's ancient beat up used car. It hadn't entirely dawned on me yet how privileged I had become.

Just as we finished preparing breakfast the phone rang and I picked it up. I answered as I had been trained, “Hello, Donovan residence, this is Samantha.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Sa..who?” I heard a deep female voice say in confusion.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Is my...is Mrs. Donovan there?” the voice asked nervously.

“Whom may I say is calling?” I primly inquired.

“I'm her...I'm Cameron,” the voice replied. “Who are you?”

“I'm her...daughter,” I replied, to silence. With a shrug I turned to Mother, “Mother, someone named Cameron is calling for you.”

Her face turned white. She ordered me to take my breakfast up to my room. I figured it must have been an important call about her design business. Of course, that didn't explain the muffled crying I thought I heard later.

Mother drove me to school. I would usually take the bus but she needed to drop me off to talk to the Principal for my first day. She was unusually quiet and withdrawn. I looked down at one of the sparkly tiaras on my dress. I hated tiaras.

-

For a while one summer we had a babysitter named Annabelle. Mom and Dad were sick of leaving us unsupervised only to come home and find Kelly crying because, “My stupid big brother is dressing in my clothes again!” so they would drop us off at Annabelle's house every day.

Annabelle was a nineteen year old beautiful redhead who was home for the summer from college and had quite a temper. We disliked each other right from the start and I did everything I could to stay out of her way. My sister, of course, took an instant liking to her.

The most fun I had the first few days was swimming in the large pool they had in their backyard. I stayed out there for hours. Annabelle and Kelly had the same idea though, and the constant laughter and teasing finally ruined the fun for me.

From then on I started to stay inside and read instead, but the more I heard the giggling and laughter from outside the more I knew it was most likely targeted in my direction. If I knew Kelly, she was telling our babysitter everything about my least favorite game, or at least some of the details.

A week later, my fears proved prescient. I was sitting inside reading as usual when Annabelle walked up and snatched the book from me. She was wet from the pool and wearing a black bikini that would normally make a boy drool but I had other things to worry about.

“Hey, give it back!” I demanded but she held it out of my reach.

“You spend too much time indoors, come outside and go swimming with us again. It's beautiful out there!” she told me.

“I didn't bring my swimsuit,” I replied, falling directly into the trap that had been set for me.

Annabelle grinned, “Oh, don't worry, I'm sure we can find a spare.”

She took my hand and started leading my up the stairs. “She means one from her father,” I thought. “She means one her boyfriend left here,” I thought. “She doesn't mean that. Please, she doesn't mean something like that,” I thought as she opened the door in front of me.

Annabelle shoved me into the room. I saw pink walls and a pink bed and dolls and flowers and princess posters and knew I was doomed. Annabelle had a little sister too. She was away at summer camp.

I screamed as I felt a sudden shove and collapsed onto the floor. A familiar high pitched jovial voice rang out, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!”

Kelly had been hiding in the room waiting for us. I tried to turn and get up. I couldn't let her do this to me in front of a hot older girl. It would be infuriating and humiliating, but I was too slow. Before I could find my feet Kelly pounced on me, pinned me, and started pulling hard on my hair. I screamed.

“Stop it! Stop it!” I begged. “Annabelle, get her off me! Kelly, what are you doing?” I screamed, trying to act as if this was not a regular occurrence for me.

I could hear Annabelle laughing at the sight of a fully clothed boy being beat up by a little girl in a bathing suit. Clearly our babysitter was not going to be my salvation. I redoubled my efforts to fight but Kelly slapped my hands away and resumed yanking at my hair.

Kelly kept me pinned down as I struggled and addressed Annabelle as if I couldn't hear her, “It always takes him a few minutes to give up. It's part of the fun for him! You know how boys like to fight. Once he's got that silliness out of his system we can get down to the part he REALLY likes!”

“I don't like any of it!” I screamed.

Kelly laughed and stopped pulling my hair. I looked up and sneered at her. I hated her so much.

“Sometimes he just needs to be reminded he's really a prissy little girl at heart before he gives up. Like if I spit on a boy...that would never make him say it.” She cleared her throat and started to lean over my face. This had gotten me to break before. I grimaced and shut my eyes. She could see that I was determined to take it this time.

“Or....” she continued.

I opened my eyes. She jammed a finger up her nose and retrieved a disgusting green booger. She started to reach towards my face. I forgot about Annabelle watching. I forgot about everything but how much I hated my stupid sister and didn't want her stupid booger touching me and almost involuntarily I shouted in a practiced, high pitched girly voice, “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

Kelly smiled in satisfaction and flicked the booger away. Annabelle laughed until she was crying, “He said it! I can't believe he really said it! You are the meanest little sister in the world, Kelly!”

Kelly smiled at what was, between the two of them, a compliment. I stood up and rubbed my head as Kelly replied to Annabelle, “So, that's how it's done. You wanna take your turn?”

“Of course!” Annabelle replied. “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!” Annabelle ran towards me as my eyes opened in shock. If I couldn't fight off my little sister there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my babysitter. I turned around to run, but of course there was nowhere for me to go. Annabelle grabbed my left wrist and bent it back. I screamed in pain. My other hand shot out to my side and I held it limply while I stood on my toes. Kelly had grabbed my wrist this way when she was training me to walk like a girl in heels and my reaction was involuntarily.

Annabelle laughed hysterically, “He's a natural fairy! Isn't he?”

Kelly nodded at her with a smile. Annabelle tossed me on the bed and pinned me and started to playfully slap at my cheeks. “Don't make me hurt you...Samantha,” Annabelle warned with a giggle.

But something else besides the game was now occupying my mind. I was pinned to the bed by a beautiful wet older girl dressed only in a bikini. Her breasts bounced in front of me as her warm hands kept touching my face.

“Just say it, Samantha. Say it for me like you did your little sister!” she teased as she continued to straddle me.

She shook me by the shoulders and repeated, “Do it! Do it!” I stared up into her beautiful eyes and a hint of a smile came to my lips. The world closed in around us and my brain shut down, some drool escaped my lips. I stopped fighting and as I went limp one part of me stayed hard. Annabelle looked down and saw what was happening and her eyes went wide.

“I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!” I shouted.

She moved to get off me but the inevitable had already occurred. My body convulsed and my face twitched. The room spun around me and I felt just the most wonderful sensation of my life.

Annabelle covered her mouth in shock, “Oh my God, he really does like this game!”

Kelly looked over at me, “He sure does, but usually not that much.”

Annabelle helped me to my feet and told me to go to the bathroom and strip. Still in a haze I obeyed, my hatred for my babysitter now mixed with some other strange feelings I could not quite explain. I tossed my clothes out of the room on command and the bathing suit I was to borrow came in exchange. I shuddered when I saw it.

In a few moments I was standing before them in the most humiliating bathing suit imaginable. With my brief moment of exhilaration over I just felt degraded and pathetic while they laughed at me. I was wearing a purple one piece Disney Store swimsuit with screen and glitter art of Rapunzel from Tangled surrounded by embroidered pink flowers. There were dark purple ruffle fabric rosettes across chest, double shoulder straps, and a skirt with a gathered light pink ruffle hem.

“Oh my God, Samantha! You're so cute! Now put these on!” Annabelle gushed as she handed me a pair of purple flip flops that matched the suit. They featured Rapunzel screen art and had gel straps that sparkled with sequins and glitter. There was a large floral applique with a sparkly jewel in the center of the straps.

To complete the set there was a light purple hooded coverup to wear over the suit on the way to and from the pool. There was an embroidered Rapunzel of course and there were ruffle trims around the hood opening and the sleeves. It buttoned up with three heart shaped buttons above a delicate bow.

“Makeup time!” Kelly squealed.

“But Kelly,” I whined, “We're just going to the pool.”

Annabelle laughed, “It's okay, Samantha, we're just playing.”

“But I HATE this game.” I stamped my foot and shook my limp wristed arms at my side and pouted and they both laughed at me. I sounded and looked exactly like the type of prissy little princess who would wear the matching Disney swimming outfit I had on. Kelly had made sure feminine behavior was totally natural to me when we were playing the game and a lot of the time I didn't even know I was doing it.

Annabelle dragged me over to the mirror and I sat down in a practiced, feminine, demure manner to more giggles from Annabelle. “I've trained him so well!” Kelly bragged.

My face turned red in shame and anger. I hated when she said stuff like that and she knew it, but there was nothing I could do to stop her. They started to work together to make me up. They made me up so heavily I looked like I would be going to a ballet recital rather than just out to the pool. I had girly pink lips and pink eye shadow and pink blushing cheeks. When they were done they topped everything off by putting a glittery tiara on my head and letting me soak in my appearance in the mirror.

I was a perfect prissy pool princess. I hated how the tight girl's bathing suit felt like it was shaping my body into that of a little girl and when I looked in the mirror I could see my appearance matched the feeling. I started to breathe heavily and panic. All of my masculinity was gone and my sister and babysitter had replaced it with a femininity that was impossible to deny.

While I stood in front of the mirror the girls put on jeans and t-shirts over their bathing suits and then led me downstairs and out the front door. “Wait...where are we going? The pool is out back,” I complained.

Annabelle laughed, “You're too pretty to hide in the back yard, Samantha. We're going to the public pool!”

“Nooo!” I shouted but Annabelle swatted me on my behind and herded me into the car while Kelly laughed.

“I can't go out in public like this!” I continued to complain, “Someone will recognize me!”

Kelly taunted me, “Don't be silly, little sis, you're the one who said you wanted everyone to know what a prissy little sissy-girly you are! You even said it twice! Now everyone will know! It's a dream come true!”

I started to cry. I was hopelessly trapped. Kelly glared at me and ordered me not to ruin my makeup. We finished the short drive to the public pool and Kelly dragged me out of the car. Annabelle lifted the frilly purple coverup over my head leaving me exposed in nothing but my skirted one piece Disney princess bathing suit and flip flops and sparkly tiara. My heart thumped in my chest and my head started to spin. My life was about to be over. I could never live down showing up at the public pool dressed like a little girl. There had to be some way out.

Annabelle giggled as she revealed a purple and pink set of water wings and I numbly stood as she slipped them on my arms. They made my appearance even more juvenile. Annabelle and Kelly went to the trunk of the car to get their towels and with their backs turned I saw my only chance at salvation. I cringed at what I saw, but it was the only way and I had only an instant to act. I sprinted away. Someone had left a bike unattended and unlocked on the bike rack.

I was peddling away before they even knew what happened. It was a bright pink Barbie themed bike with a white basket lined with pink flowers and pink and white streamers on the handlebars. You can bet it didn't make me feel like any less of an effeminate little sissy to be peddling away on it in my pink and purple Rapunzel bathing suit but at least it was better than going to the public pool and almost certainly being seen by my classmates.

I started to make my way back to Annabelle's house, staying off the main roads. I couldn't go back to my house until I got my clothes back. I kept looking behind me in frantic fear that they might be chasing me down in the car but they were nowhere to be seen. About a block away I got off the embarrassing pink bike and was about to ditch it when a police car drove up and stopped next to me. The officer looked at me intently before getting out of his car to confront me.

I stood there shaking in numb fear. Annabelle must have called the police to find me. Or someone saw the little girl's bike being stolen and called them. Either way, I was dead. As I shook the officer spoke, “Little girl, if you're going to ride your bike you have to wear a helmet. It's the law. Those water wings may help you swim but they won't help if you fall off your bike!” he lectured.

A helmet. He was just worried about a helmet. Instinctively my hand went to my head and I felt the tiara perched there. “I know you want to look pretty, but it's for your own good! Tiraras are for dress-up at home, not for bike riding! Now run along home, and don't let me see you riding without a helmet again, missy!”

“Y...yes officer,” I squeaked, “I'm sorry!” I walked the rest of the way to Annabelle's house leading the bike beside me. I left it propped up by a mailbox so it would be easy to find if the police did start looking for it. I approached Annabelle's house but all the doors were locked. I screamed in frustration. I went around back and ripped off the water wings and sat down in a lounge chair by the pool to wait for my tormenters to come back and put an end to this stupid game. After a little while, exhausted by my ordeal and my frantic bike trip, I fell asleep.

I awoke to the sound of a woman and a little girl talking. I jumped out of the chair and saw them. There was a red haired older woman and a red haired little girl. They both looked shocked upon seeing me.

“Mommy! Who is that?! Why is she wearing my bathing suit and my tiara?” the little girl whined.

The mother replied, “Annabelle was babysitting while you were at camp, remember? This girl must have forgotten her suit and...”

Suddenly the door to the house popped open and Annabelle and Kelly came out to the yard. They must have come home while I was sleeping and left me out there.

“Jimmy! What are you wearing?!” Kelly shouted in feigned shock.

Annabelle joined in, “I know your Mother said you love to play dress-up but I only left you alone for a few minutes and now I find you out here dressed in my little sister's bathing suit? It's very rude to do that without asking! You should know better.”

Annabelle's little sister started to cry, “Ewwwww, it's a boy! He ruined it! I can't wear it anymore!”

Annabelle's mother was predictably furious, “You perverted, nasty little brat! Your parents are going to hear about this! You are not welcome in this house ever again!”

“No,” I whined, “Please don't tell my parents, please! I'll get in so much trouble!”

“You deserve to!” she screamed back.

The frilly purple cover-up was dropped back over my head and Kelly and I were driven home. Kelly was angry and blamed me for making it so Annabelle couldn't babysit us anymore. As if it was my fault she had to play her stupid game.

So that's how I ended up presented to my parents dressed as a pretty little pool princess in a glittery tiara. I was stripped out of the suit and given a wicked spanking. The feminine tan lines were apparent for weeks. They threw out the suit and the cover-up and the flip flops but Kelly managed to sneak away the tiara. I wore it almost every time we played the game from then on. I really hate tiaras.

-

I was extremely conscious that all the other girls, even the first and second graders, were not dressed as girly-girl prissy as I was. They mostly wore jeans or capris and t-shirts and sneakers and wore their hair straight while I was in a dress and tights and Mary Janes with french braided hair and pretty jewelry.

Mother led me to my classroom and gave me a kiss goodbye on the cheek. I had my designer pink leather bookbag on my shoulder and a shiny red apple in my hand. I entered the classroom with butterflies dancing in my stomach.

In accordance with my orders to be a perfect teacher's pet I went straight up to the teacher's desk and introduced myself, “Hello Mrs. Thomas. I'm Samantha Anne Donovan. Pleased to meet you,” before handing her the apple with a smile and a little curtsy.

“Pleased to meet you too, Samantha, you can put your things down over there,” she gestured to a desk in the front row. Of course Mother had made sure that's where I would be sitting, “...and then I'll introduce you to the class.”

I smiled when I saw who would be sitting next to me. It was my friend Marcie. She was wearing a fancy blue dress that was almost as out of place as mine was. I figured we would be the class girly-girls together. At least I wouldn't be alone.

Marcie smiled back and we hugged, “Hi, Samantha!” She held up an iPhone in a purple case, “Look what I got! We can text all the time now!” she went on, talking a mile a minute, “Why weren't you at the assembly yesterday, did you hear that we're getting a new girl in class who used to be a boy?! Can you believe it? What do you think she'll look like, do you think she'll be weird...”

She trailed off as she saw my face had gone screwed up like I was about to cry, but before she could ask what was wrong Mrs. Thomas led me away to the front of the class.

“Quiet down, everyone!” she instructed and received prompt obedience, “This is the new girl we talked about yesterday. I expect you to treat her like any other girl and make her feel welcome. If I find out that anyone is picking on her just because she's different, there is going to be big trouble!”

My cheeks burned red as I looked at my new classmates. Nobody was pointing and laughing like in the nightmare I had about my old school. They just seemed shocked and awed. They had never known me as a boy, after all, and if they hadn't been told they would have just seen me as any other girl. Now though, they knew I was different. I felt like such a freak.

“Say hello to Samantha Donovan, class.” Mrs. Thomas instructed.

“Hello, Samantha,” they repeated in unison, all but Marcie who was simply starring at me in open mouthed shock.

I couldn't stand it. She hated me now for being such a weirdo.

“H...Hi everyon..” I tried to get out, but before I could finish I burst into tears and ran from the classroom. If I didn't have a friend, I just couldn't do this. I just couldn't do it. I ran towards the office. I was going to make them call Mother to bring me home. Before I got there a hand grabbed my own from behind and stopped me.

I turned around. It was Marcie. She was crying now too, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't go!” She put her arms around me and held me tightly in a bear hug, “I don't care if you're really a boy, we're still friends!” she insisted.

“We...are?” I asked in surprise. “But why did you...”

Marcie laughed through her tears, “Why didn't you tell me? How can we be best friends when we never talk?”

“From now on,” I replied, “We tell each other everything.”

She handed me a tissue and I dried my tears. We held hands and walked back to the classroom. I had my friend. My best friend. I could do this. From then on we sat together in every class, every day at lunch, every day on the bus, and whenever else we could. When we weren't together we were glued to our phones texting each other and driving our parents crazy. We may still have been two shy girls to everyone else, but not with each other. She never treated me like a freak, even when other kids made fun of me behind my back.

My first day at my new school didn't end up going that badly, aside from one thing. Marcie and I sat together at recess chatting and reading our books. I had just finished “The Secret Garden” and had started “Little Women.” I smiled at the memory of Mr. Craven finding the secret garden in full bloom and full of happy, healthy children. The sounds of recess reminded me of what it must have been like for him.

We saw a girl and two boys hiding behind a shed smoking cigarettes. Marcie identified them as Jenny, Pat, and Kevin. Marcie told me they were the most popular kids in class. I instantly stood up and started looking for an adult.

“What are you doing, Samantha?” Marcie asked.

“Telling on them,” I replied with a blush.

“But you can't, you'll have the whole class mad at you,” she insisted.

“I have to. Mother said so. She said if she hears I knew about anything bad kids are doing in class and don't tell I'll be in as much trouble as if I did it myself,” I told her with concern.

“You don't always have to do what your Mother says, Samantha!” she yelled after me as I ran off.

Jenny peaked out from behind the shed and saw the new “girl” in the prissy purple dress and the expensive jewelry running up to the teacher's aide and pointing in their direction. My reputation as a tattle tale was set in stone from day one. Besides Marcie, I didn't think I would be making many friends in my new class.

Chapter 9 — Let's Play Sissy Kiss

Mrs. Thomas asked the class a question. My hand instantly shot up because Mother told me a good teacher's pet always puts her hand up. Mrs. Thomas frowned at the class. “I've called on Samantha the last three times, someone else, please? You should all be as enthusiastic as she is.“

I shrank into my seat. I could feel the class glaring at me in the back of my head. I was always the example of a perfect, eager little student and it wasn't helping me make many friends.

A lot of teachers would see this happening and try and discourage a student from being such an obvious pet, but Mrs. Thomas was truly smitten with her little Samantha. My “gender issues” made sure I was viewed as special and worthy of coddling to make sure I would never be picked on. She didn't think of me like she did the other girls.

Thanks to Mother's orders on how I should behave I never did anything to suggest I didn't want the extra protection. The three kids I had tattled on my first day tried to corner me the day after to pick on me. My instinct was to fight back and defend myself but I knew I wasn't allowed to get in any trouble. I had only one solution open to me, the one Mother and Bridgette had told me about. I cried and ran to the teacher and tattled some more. It solved the problem of being picked on, but over the next few weeks I found myself being more and more isolated from the rest of the class, aside from Marcie and Mrs. Thomas of course. I wasn't only a teacher's pet and a tattle tale, I was also an immature little baby.

About a month after my first day back in school Mother and I were at the grocery store. I was dressed in a pink skirt and a short sleeve white blouse with blue and pink flowers. I wore pink sneakers and frilly ankle socks. She sent me off with a list of items to pick up for her to help with the shopping. It wasn't a big deal, aside from the last item on the list.

Girl's Goodnites.

It was so humiliating to go to the diaper aisle and pick up the package I needed because of my uncontrollable bedwetting. All I could think of was doing the same chore when my sister made me do it in a pink “Princess Bedwetter” shirt.

It was so humiliating to be a boy forced to do that by his sister, but in some ways it was even worse to be seen just as a bedwetting little girl. When it was a boy in that situation they looked at me with disgust and disdain. It was awful, but as a girl I was showered with pity. I really hated it. People acted like I shouldn't even be embarrassed by it. Easy for you to say, if you can keep your sheets dry. It's just as humiliating no matter what gender you are. Sometimes it was just as embarrassing to be treated as helpless by default rather than being mocked for not doing what you should.

As I blushingly tried to escape from the diaper aisle that day I encountered someone who didn't care if I was a girl or a boy, she just hated me for being a tattle tale and a teacher's pet.

“Oh my god,” Jenny laughed.

I froze in humiliation and fear in front of my classmate. Tears started to form in my eyes, “Please don't tell anyone...”

She guffawed. “Little miss tattle tale doesn't want me to tell everyone she's a bedwetter? You always seem so happy to tell everyone else's secrets though.”

“Please...I can't help it...” I ran away to Mother with tears in my eyes and explained what happened in a panic.

She gave me a hug and consoled me, “Oh, don't worry Samantha, I'm sure she won't tell anyone. I'm sure she's a very nice girl and would never do something like that.”

“She hates me!” I shouted, “Because you made me be a tattle tale!”

Mother frowned at me, “You're making a scene with this little tantrum, Samantha. Enough, don't make me put you in the corner for the rest of the day. You know Marcie is supposed to come over.”

Still sniffling and red faced I stared at the ground and said nothing while she finished shopping. When we got home I sat on my bed and continued to cry. I lost track of time and when I heard the doorbell ring I quickly tried to compose myself, but when I opened the door it was obvious Marcie could tell.

“What's wrong, Samantha?” she asked with concern.

“It's nothing,” I told her. Marcie didn't look satisfied, she didn't think BFFs should keep secrets.

I squirmed in embarrassment, “It's private, okay? Let's just go practice.”

We sat together at the piano and began to play a duet. It was easy for Marcie but it was way beyond my skill level and Marcie was patiently helping me learn it so we could play it together at our next recital. When I was playing it right it was an amazing feeling being so totally in sync. We were the best of friends and it was awesome to work together to do something in perfect harmony and unity. There was nobody I would rather share that feeling with than Marcie.

That time, though, I kept making mistakes. It was like I had regressed. Instead of calming, beautiful music it was nothing but discordant chaos. Marcie couldn't understand it. She knew I practiced every day. She was patient with me and we simply started over again and again. The fifth time I messed up I was too frustrated to continue. I banged my fists into the keyboard in anger as Marcie shrunk away. I stood up and turned away from the piano as Mother stormed into the room.

“Samantha, what are you doing?” she demanded.

“I hate the piano! I don't want to play it any more!” I shouted.

Mother rolled her eyes at me,“Don't be silly, Samantha. You can't quit just because it's hard. Messing up is part of practicing. It's okay. Get back to it.”

We stared each other down. If this went any further I would find myself in the corner but I was too upset to care. I screamed, “I hate you! I hate you! You aren't even my real...”

She interrupted my angry words with an icy calm that was clearly holding back her own upset.

“Samantha...”

“Anne...”

“Donovan.”

I was in for it now.

Marcie decided to take matters into her own hands before Mother could go on, “Mrs. Donovan, it was my fault we messed up. I could really use a break. Is it okay if we stop for now?”

Mother raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not believing for a second Marcie had been the source of the trouble, but she agreed to let us take a break. We went up to my room and I sat down on my bed and sulked.

“So, what's wrong?” she asked once again.

“I told you I don't want to talk about it!” I yelled.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked with concern.

I shook my head in reply.

“Then don't take it out on me! Tell me what's wrong,” she demanded.

“Fine!” I shouted. I stood and tore the covers off my neatly made bed exposing the plastic sheets hidden beneath. “I'm a bedwetter! I wet the bed nearly every night!” I started to cry, “I went to the doctor and he gave me pills and an alarm but nothing works! It happens almost every night! Are you happy now?”

I waited for that look of disgust and disdain or overwrought pity I confronted every time somebody found out. I waited for the laughter. I should have known Marcie would never do something like that to me. Several heartbeats passed.

Then she simply shrugged, “Oh, don't cry any more Samamtha. I'm sorry. I guess it really is none of my business.“

It didn't change how she thought of me at all. While I stood there in numb shock she remade my bed and sat down. I sat next to her.

“I'm sure you'll get it beat soon. It's just a medical problem, right? That kind of thing happens to everybody. You can't let it ruin your day.” She hugged me. I felt light headed. I liked her so much. She was the best friend.

I really could tell her anything, “It's...not just that. I was at the store today and...and Jenny saw me with my...with my...Goodnites, and she's going to tell everyone at school to get back at me.”

Marcie took my hand and squeezed it tightly and looked me right in the eyes. “No, she won't. She's really a nice girl. She's mad about what you did but...she wouldn't do that to you. I promise.”

Her eyes were so beautiful. I got lost in them as she spoke. I would have believed anything she said at that moment. All of my anxiety floated away. It was going to be okay. Marcie said so.

Our hands were still entwined. We leaned in closer together. I felt like I felt when we were playing the piano in perfect coordination. It was exhilarating. We had one mind and one purpose. Before my conscious mind could even grasp what was occurring, we kissed.

My heart thudded in my chest and I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I was overwhelmed with joy. For several minutes we just stared at each other, flooded with confusing emotion. We gripped each other's hands so tightly it was almost painful.

Suddenly the door opened and Mother looked in on us. Our hands leapt apart and we sat there guiltily. Mother looked at us in suspicion but clearly had no idea what we could possibly have been doing we would be afraid she would find out about. I knew she had a camera in my room. I just hoped she wouldn't check it.

“I..uhh...think we're ready to practice again, Mrs. Donovan,” Marcie said to break the silence.

We sat again at the piano. I played the duet flawlessly for the first time. Marcie hugged me in congratulations. We stared into each other's eyes again. I had trouble getting to sleep that night. I didn't know what kissing Marcie really meant, but I knew it was wonderful. We were more than BFFs now, that was for sure. It was Marcie's first kiss. It wasn't mine. My first kiss was a much less jubilant moment.

-

I sat at my desk trying to study. I was constantly distracted by sounds of laughter from across the hall. Kelly had a friend over, a boy from her class named Greg I didn't really know. She wasn't really allowed to have boys over at her age, especially when our parents weren't home, but she wasn't worried about them. They focused all their attention on trying to fix their “sissy son.” The room across the hall went silent for a few minutes. I started to get nervous. The calm before the storm, an anxious part of me insisted.

“Hey, Samantha!” she taunted, appearing at my door.

“Don't call me that, you promised nobody from school would find out,” I whined.

She laughed, “Let's play the Sissy-Girly Game!”

I stood up and faced her. “No!” I insisted, emphatically.

She crossed her arms with an amused smile on her lips. I stood there trembling, near tears, knowing exactly how everything was about to play out from long experience. She rushed at me and put me in a headlock. I kicked and bucked and tried to escape but I didn't want to scream for fear that the boy in the next room would come across the hall and see me being beat up by my little sister.

Still holding me by the neck she stood behind me and whispered in my ear. “Say it.”

“No! I won't! Not this time!” I replied.

She laughed. She let go of my neck and grabbed my underwear and pulled up with all of her strength and gave me the most painful wedgie you could imagine. I fell forward with a scream, Greg must surely have heard at this point but it was involuntary on my part. She pinned me on the ground with her knee on my back. She held my head with her left arm and with her right started giving me a painful nuggie, rubbing her knuckles into my scalp painfully and demanding, “Say it! Say it!”

Through my tears I finally gave in, “I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I want everyone to know it!”

The pain stopped. I could hear her giggling from behind me,“Oh, it's okay, little sis. Don't cry! If that's what you want I can make sure everyone will!”

She left the room. I stood up, crying, and stripped off my clothes. There was no point in fighting her on that. I went to my closet, and with red cheeks pulled one of my girl's GoodNites from the hiding spot and pulled them on. Naked besides my immature girl's bedwetting pants, I turned back to the door and in intense humiliation waited for her to return with the outfit of her choice.

She came back holding a pink and white candystriped dress with white ribbon at the collar and a white ribbon sash and a built in crinoline. There were matching pink panties with white ruffles on the rear to put on over my GoodNites. Obediently I donned the dress and she tied a big white bow behind me. She put me in frilly white ankle socks and pink two inch high heels with white bows at the toe. She put a pink ribbon in my hair. She sat me down and had me do my own makeup, a task I was now well practiced in. She told me to be especially careful to do a perfect job with the pink lipstick.

“Aren't you just the prettiest little sister, Samantha?” she asked mockingly as we stared at my effeminate, emasculated appearance in the mirror. The dress barely covered my underwear and I tugged hopelessly at the hem.

I seethed in humiliation, “But you said you wouldn't tell anyone at school,” I whined again.

She smiled impishly, “It's okay, he doesn't mind.”

The door opened. The boy, Greg, entered the room. In shock I realized he was wearing a nearly identical baby blue outfit but his boyish appearance and crew cut made it clear he wasn't a girl.

“Oh my God!” he gushed, “You're right, he's beautiful! I'm glad you made me wait till your were done to show me! He's the most pretty sissy I've ever seen!” He was clearly a willing participant in our little game and quite smitten with me.

Before I could do anything the boy ran up to me and grabbed me in a hug. I squirmed in displeasure, my sissy dress pressed against his.

“Say cheese!” Kelly announced as Greg's lips smacked into mine in a kiss. Her camera flashed. I tried to escape from Greg's embrace. I could feel his excitement as our warm bodies pressed together in our girly-girl dresses and it was definitely not reciprocated. Kelly glared at me and I knew I had to play along. We kissed again. I felt nauseous and disgusted. Kissing another boy was absolutely repulsive to me.

Greg reached behind me and pulled up my dress and rubbed his hands on my pantied bottom. I wanted to run away and puke.

“My little sissy sister has a little sissy boyfriend! Everyone is going to be so exicted!” Kelly screeched. She kept making comments like that so when my Mom and Dad came home I didn't hear them coming. Kelly heard them and quickly hid in my closet. My parents were livid to find me dressed up as a sissy again and kissing another boy. They had to wait until Greg was gone to get around to punishing me, but it was the worst punishment I ever took at their hands.

-

The next day in school I was a nervous wreck, even with my faith in Marcie's judgment. I sat in my seat at the front of the class and pulled nervously at my long french braid, a habit I had picked up lately when I was scared or upset.

I waited all day as I did my usual teacher's pet routine to hear the whispers behind me.

“Baby.”

“Bedwetter.”

“Diaper girl.”

But it never happened.

At the end of the day as I was leaving class I turned to look at Jenny. “I...I....”

I ran away near crying, not wanting to confront what had happened. Or really, what hadn't. I thought about it all evening. She really was a nice girl, and I had made an enemy out of her just because I was afraid of getting in trouble with Mother. I was so embarrassed. I didn't think I could face her again.

The next day I walked towards class. I was carrying another gift for Mrs. Thomas. Mother gave me something to give her at least once a week to help solidify my status as teacher's pet. That day I carried a bouquet of flowers and some strawberry jam from our garden.

As I entered the classroom I took a few steps towards the teacher's desk. Mrs. Thomas smiled at me, anticipating another present from her favorite little student, but something stopped me. I turned sharply to the left and walked towards Jenny's desk. With my face down I presented the gift to her.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered quietly, “Thank you for being so nice anyway.”

Without waiting for a response I quickly turned away, expecting Mrs. Thomas to be looking disappointed at not receiving her usual gift but instead she was smiling and wiping a small tear from her eye.

I sighed. She was just as delighted to see her little favorite making new friends as to be giving her gifts. I sat down in my seat and smiled. I laughed. I liked my new class. I didn't stop being the overdressed crybaby prissy little tattle tale but, well, I learned that Marcie was right. Sometimes I didn't always have to do what Mother said. When I used a bit of discretion, the other girls could be pretty friendly.

A few weeks later Mother announced that she was having a girl's night out with Bridgette. I would be left home with a babysitter. I begged and pleaded with her not to, but she made the call she had said she would when I first moved in. My sister Kelly would babysit me. I would have been entirely happy never seeing her again, but I think Mother knew some closure might be good for me. I'm glad she did.

I hid up in my room crying all day after school knowing what was coming. Mother tried to get me out but I just kept throwing tantrums and as much of a helicopter parent as she was, her mind was made up on having her night out. It didn't matter how much I whined.

Mother made me answer the door. Kelly was just like I remembered her. A pretty, innocent looking little girl who I knew instinctively had it within her power to make every facet of my life as miserable as possible.

I started to cry but Kelly didn't miss a beat, “Hello, Samantha!” she squealed, “We're going to have so much fun, just think of all the...games...we’ll play!”

Kelly put her arm around me and held me close to her. I looked up at Mother with pleading eyes, “Please...take me with you.”

She just laughed, “Everything will be fine Samantha, have fun playing with your sister. Goodbye!”

And she was gone.

Kelly instantly released me as soon as the door was closed. “OH...MY...GOD!” she shouted, “Look at you!”

I looked to the mirror and saw what she did. I was wearing a poufy yellow sundress covered in flowers and white birds and a white cardigan with white tights on my legs and yellow Mary Janes. I wore an expensive silver tiara (I hate tiaras! But Mother says it looks so pretty on me...) and my thick, long french braid was tied with glittery yellow ribbons. I wore diamond clip-on earrings and golden bracelets on my wrists and of course my pearl necklace.

“She dresses you like this every day? You actually GO TO SCHOOL like this? I can't believe you let her do this to you! You're the perfect little princess I always thought you were, and you just go along with it!” she exclaimed with laughter.

I pouted and turned away. I sat down on a chair in the living room and sulked. She followed quickly behind me and looked around. She took in the fancy furniture and the massive wide-screen TV. I thought I saw a hint of annoyance on her face but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She focused back on me.

“So, have you met any nice boys at your new school, little sis?” she asked sarcastically.

“I don't like boys!” I shouted back in anger.

She laughed, “Well, Greg certainly misses you and...”

I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door. It didn't matter. There wasn't a lock of course. I grabbed my phone and started to text Marcie, “OMG plz, u there?”

By the time I hit “send” Kelly was upon me again. She saw my uber-girly room and burst out in a new fit of laughter. She saw the expensive queen sized bed and all the fancy clothes and dolls and jewelry. She looked at the brand new top of the line iPhone in my hands. She turned to my desk and saw the new Macbook and the fancy perfumes and makeup.

I slammed down the phone in frustration. Kelly stopped laughing and pouted. That hint of annoyance I had seen earlier was now turning into open resentment. The new life she had sentenced me to was to live in a large house with a rich mother and have all of my whims and needs taken care of. I started to sense something odd about what was happening right then. I started to giggle. I started to laugh out loud.

She stared at me, “Let's play the....”

“What's the point?” I replied. My laughter continued.

She ran up to me and grabbed me by my french braid and tugged me off the bed. I shrieked in pain, but when it was over I just kept laughing.

I shouted, “I'm a prissy-little sissy girly and....everybody ALREADY knows it!” she tugged on my braid again, ”and...YOU'RE JEALOUS OF ME!” I exclaimed with glee.

She let go of my hair and backed away while shaking her head at my laughing non-resistance. I went on, “You spent all your time thinking of ways to bully me and make me unhappy, and now I'm the most happy I've ever been in my entire life and you're stuck with them without me and you hate it! I'm a prissy little sissy-girly and I LOVE IT!” I exclaimed with honesty.

She charged at me and swung her fist. I was stuck with a pretty nasty black eye for the next few weeks, but after Mother saw the video from her camera in my room I never had to see my little sister ever again. The next morning I woke up to a strange sensation. I urgently had to urinate. I choked up with happiness as I leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I never wet the bed again. Game over.

A few weeks later, Mother had me dressed in my Sunday best. I wore a pure white Easter style dress with bouffant petticoats, white anklets, and one inch patent leather white heels.

“Mother,” I asked, “Why do I have to dress up today?” as if my outfit was that much different from my day to day clothes.

She had been distant all morning long. Her answer was just as distant and monotone and maybe...nervous? “We have a very special guest today, Samantha. Please be on your best behavior,” she instructed, with an almost pleading look in her eyes.

“Yes, Mother, of course,” I replied with a curtsy in a confused tone that suggested I would never even think of acting otherwise.

She went to the kitchen and started to prepare a brunch. I followed her and started to don my apron to help out as usual, but she stopped me. “I'll handle it, Samantha, just...just wait and answer the door, okay?”

I nodded and hung the apron and sat in a chair by the door. If that was what Mother wanted, it was what I would do for her. I took the phone from my purse and texted Marcie.

“Mother acting weird, lol!”

Marcie texted back, “I dunno, lol.”

The doorbell rang. For some reason Mother was really counting on me for this, so I made sure to do it right. I smoothed out my dress, checked my appearance in the mirror, and turned to the door and opened it. I bobbed a quick, polite curtsy and looked up.

In front of me was an unusually tall woman with strong features. The situation was somewhat odd, but I was very well trained in answering the door. I dipped in another cursty and smiled. “Hello, My name is Samanth...”

The woman picked me up and smothered me in a tight hug. I'm Cameron. I've heard all about you. You're so pretty! I wish when I was your age I could have...” Her hands touched the pearl necklace I wore, “...she would never let me...”

She looked behind me and saw Mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She gently set me back down and the two woman looked across at each other in silence. The distance was measured in feet but by their gazes it could have been miles.

Mother spoke, “I'm so sorry, Cameron.” She broke down in tears. I had never seen this from her before, as much as I loved her she was always the stern and reserved type, she continued, “I'm so sorry!”

The two woman ran to each other and hugged. I stood beside them in confusion.

Mother continued, “I should have accepted you for who you are. I never should have driven you away just because you wanted to be a g...” Mother choked on her tears. “I never thought you would come back to me, but, when I heard about girls like Samantha I knew I could make a difference. I told her she was an only child.”

Cameron smiled and looked over at me. “You aren't.”

I fell back into my chair. Numbly I felt the phone by my side and picked it up. “Have big sister now,” I texted.

“wat?” in reply.

I laughed. Maybe I should call her.

It was years before Marcie and I ever kissed again. I knew I didn't like boys but I had to give Marcie her chance to figure out who she was. Every time she went out I did my best to pretend like it didn't bother me, but I think she knew. It bothered me a lot. Even so, we remained inseparable and the best of friends. We liked the same hobbies and books and movies and we were always there for each other when we were upset.

When I couldn't be with Marcie I got to know my big sister. Cameron was a role model for me and she helped me to learn about the special challenges I would face because of my gender issues. It was great to have someone in the family besides Mother to help look after me. She took me shopping and started to nudge my fashion choices away from Mother's prissy outfits into things more appropriate for a teenage girl. Having her other daughter back made Mother a lot less smothering and overprotective of me, but I was always happy to model one of her prissy new dress designs and help in the kitchen and the garden and be her perfect, happy little girl. At times I could see it would make Cameron a little jealous to see me live the life she had always wanted when she was young, but seeing her little sister happy always trumped those feelings.

It was the night of the junior prom when Marcie and I finally admitted we were in love. We couldn't imagine there could be anybody else as perfect for either of us. She wore an elegant pink satin prom gown and I wore one that was white and poufy that Mother had designed for me. While everyone else danced around us, we held each other close and kissed. The music enveloped us like when we played a duet in perfect harmony. You couldn't tear us apart. We wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, BFFs and more.

THE END

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