Poll results

Have to say this one surprised me. Given that in virtually every TG story, the transformee is given a name that closely corresponds with his male one, I always thought that was the direction most of us went in for our femme appellations.

(Of course, mine is a variation of my middle name, not my first, but...)

But there it is...more than half of the respondents have chosen a name simply because it seems to "fit" them.

Live and learn.

New poll starts today and I'm going to let this one run for about ten days. I'm looking just for some hints as to what kind of folks are reading here.

Sissy Forever, Part One

A few notes about this story:

Some 35 years ago, when I first began really exploring my fantasies of being a girlish boy, one of the first sources of TV fiction I found was Astounding Transvestite Tales, published by Empathy Press. In an early volume was a story called "Evelyn Manor." I later came across that story again, and realized it had elements that could be reworked into something along the lines of my usual transformation themes.

I've reset the tale in the third person, and all the hypnotic elements are my own. There was no author credited in the ATT publication, but this story is dedicated to that anonymous inspiration.

Mother called to Robert as he opened the door to his bedroom upon returning home from school, “Robert, I would like to speak to you". He entered her room and was surprised to see his Aunt Christine sitting on the edge of his mother's bed. He had not seen his Aunt Christine for over five years.

Mother, his older sister Deborah, and he had visited Aunty when he was eight years old. Robert has never liked her and he knew she did not like Robert as she had made it quite clear she did not like boys. She had a beautiful two-story home located on a large estate.

Deborah had spent every summer since their initial visit, at Aunty’s.

Aunt Christine was a woman of 40, a bit overweight, tall, and very attractive. She had never been married and had at one time been the executive of a fashion advertising firm and had been very successful, this had followed a career of modeling. She had always bestowed many gifts upon Deborah, and Deborah would tease Robert at times, saying, "If you were a girl you could go to Aunty’s for the summer and you would get lots of presents." When Deborah would leave for Aunty’s there were times when Robert would feel jealous, but he knew that if he had gone with her, Aunty would have made him miserable with constant corrections.

Deborah was two years older than Robert--tall, attractive, and possessed a very pretty figure. At 15, she was in her third year in high school. She was always on the honor roll in school, although she worked after school at a women's apparel store as a sales girl and also modeled, Mother was very proud of her. Aunty had been instrumental in Deborah obtaining her job as Aunty was one of the owners of the women's apparel store.

Robert was just 13 and quite the opposite of his sister. They were physically similar, as he was tall and quite slender for a boy, but the similarity ended there. Robert's record in school had always been wanting for improvement. He did not like to study and was constantly getting into trouble with his teachers for teasing the girls and just plain unruly behavior. This pattern of behavior was also evident at home.

Robert's father had passed away when he was four years old and Mother had raised Deborah and Robert from that day to the present. Mother was in her late 30s and similar to Aunty in looks and physical make-up.

Robert had a good idea why mother had called him to her room, as he had been severely reprimanded by both the principal of the school and his teacher. They had made it quite clear that since there were only six weeks to the end of the school year he would not be expelled but Mother would be called and told of his disrespectful attitude and continued bad behavior.

Mother confirmed his suspicions. As she scolded him, she was interrupted by Aunty. Aunt Christine said, "What are we going to do with you? You apparently have no respect for women nor do you have any respect for yourself.

"Your mother and I have discussed several avenues of punishment and have arrived at one that we feel will teach you respect for women, teach you discipline and crush your boyish arrogance," she said. "Tomorrow is Friday and we are going to keep you home from school. When you awaken in the morning you will begin your punishment period. It will last through Saturday, Sunday, and through to Monday morning. I will also warn you that should you not cooperate during this period and should your mother receive any more reports of disagreeable activities from school, this punishment will be repeated each weekend and if necessary you will be invited to spend the summer at my estate with your sister.

"Your punishment will deny to you everything essential to being a boy," she concluded.

As Robert left the room and went to his own, Aunt Christine's words were repeated in his mind. "Your punishment will deny to you everything essential to being a boy."

Once Robert had left, Mother turned to Aunt Christine. "You're certain the program your friend Wanda has given us will work?"

"Absolutely," Aunty replied. "It's well tested by the staff at Evelyn Manor. They send it out as part of their student recruitment system. While the same kind of hypnotic suggestion could be used to simply control the boy, they've found more lasting success in a series of subtle shifts in his personality, all tied to the clothing he wears and the way he looks.

"Believe me, after just one night with these special tapes and one day in the right girls clothes, Robert will be experiencing strange new feelings...and enjoying them."

Mother called Robert again and again he entered her room. Aunty directed him to strip down to his underwear. Being afraid of her, Robert did as he was told.

Mother and Aunty both began taking measurements. When they were through, they told Robert to dress. As he left the room, Mother said that she and Aunty were going shopping and would be home later. When they returned later, they had Deborah with them, as they had picked her up from work.

Deborah said, "We really have a surprise for you, but you have to wait till tomorrow morning."

As he climbed into bed the things Aunty and Deborah said really bothered Robert. "Oh, well, I can handle anything, I'm a big boy."

Mother dropped a tape cassette into his stereo. "What's that?" Robert asked.

"I can tell you're all upset about not knowing what's going to happen tomorrow...and you'll never get to sleep, you're so wound up," she answered. "This is a special 'new age' music tape. It helps to soothe your mind and help you sleep."

Mother pressed the play button and soft, quiet, strings and chimes floated from the speakers. She stepped out of the room. Within a few minutes, Robert felt himself drifting off to sleep, but with the sensation that something more than music was coming from the tape, though he could not really hear anything else.

The subliminal sleep suggestions gradually switched over to more hypnotic suggestions and then came to dominate the sound--and Robert's subconscious mind took in every word.

"When you see your nails painted red, you will feel a stirring in your cock," the tape told him. "You will not recognize what is making you excited, but you will want more of it. Wearing high heels, especially sexy sandals, will have a similar effect. You will also enjoy the sight of your wrists with feminine bracelets on them...and you will think of the bracelets not only as adornments but as slave ornaments, enslaving you to a feminine future.

"You will think of these experiences as 'strange new feelings,' and they will be stronger every time you see yourself in these feminine things."

The tape repeated several times through the night and then shifted back to the "new age" music to let Robert drift into a normal sleep until morning.

Creative Challenges

I'm finding myself in need of new outlets for my talents. This blog has been a great help and, of course, A Bimbo's Sanctuary continues to be a place to display my abilities.

The new gig with Prissy's Sissies, though limited, is also providing inspiration...and I have another new outlet in the works. More on that once I know exactly how it's going to operate.

But I'd love to do more one-on-one stuff with readers out there. Do you have a fantasy you'd like to explore? E-mail me with it. Depending on how things turn out, I may ask for a modest payment for my contribution, but I'd also likely just do it for the fun of it.

New poll and a new (old) story start tomorrow.

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Five: Stephanie's Fate

Angela handed a platter with hors d'ouevres to Stephanie and sent the tranvestized maid out into the party. Each of the guests was one of Angela's new group of friends, dominant women all. Each was accompanied by a slave--some, like Mistress Jennifer, by a submissive TV...others by a submissive lesbian companion. The assembled dominants applauded as Stephanie minced into the room on her seven-inch heels, carefully balancing the heavy platter.

One or two fondled her ass beneath the ruffled petticoats of her maid's uniform. The programming placed in her mind by Angela's careful ministrations permitted Stephanie only to blush at these indignities, and to giggle a provocative mock protest, "Oh, no, madame!"

As she circulated with the appetizers, Stephanie noted a single "man" within the room. He was securely bound to a chair in the center, with a business-suited woman beside him. Her eyes never left this out-of-place emblem of masculinity in the room full of women. Finally, Angela came up to her side.

"Interested in our little captive, Stephanie?" she asked. "That's His Honor, Justice George Marshall of the State Supreme Court. The woman behind him is his law clerk, Nancy. She has grown tired of his repeated advances and his never-ceasing male chauvinism--just as I did with your alter ego, Steven.Therefore, she has brought him to us, her dominant friends, to be transformed and controlled, just as you were. His 'change' will be the central entertainment of the party--and YOU will assist!"

Steven, hidden somewhere deep within Stephanie, could hardly believe it. Here he was, so recently transformed himself, expected to aid in the making of yet another helpless man/woman. It was absurd--yet his programming now ran so deeply that he gave no thought to the idea of rebelling.

Half an hour later, at the height of the party, Angela announced that the "entertainment" was about to start. "Stephanie, please go into the bedroom and bring out the tray of cosmetics," she said. The TV maid did as requested, returning with a tray laden with every possible item of the cosmetic arts, from foundation to false eyelashes. "Now, Stephanie honey, you will show everyone here the wonderful training I have given you by making George here into Georgia."

Forced to comply by the submissive personality laid over his own, Stephanie started to work on the unfortunate judge. She quickly noted that the man was NOT entranced...that he was completely aware of what was happening to him...yet, somehow, still unable to resist. Angela explained, "Nancy and I have not yet created darling Georgia's new personality. However, thanks to a remarkable muscle relaxant, she is totally unable to move. Hence, she is completely cognizant of the change being made to her appearance by the lovely Stephanie. Once she is completely female in appearance--and the humiliation of her transformation is complete--then we will create the new Georgia in mind as well as body!"

Following Nancy's instructions, Stephanie first shaved off the man's eyebrows, then the fringe of hair that circled his otherwise bald head. Though still young, George Marshall had never tried to hide his baldness, thinking it made him look older and more "judicial." Now, the TV maid applied foundation over his whole face, then began to make up his eyes with dramatic applications of shadow and eyeliner, and drew in high arched brows to replace the ones she had shaved off. Blusher followed on his cheeks, then deep red lipstick. The final cosmetic touch was the false eyelashes--long, thick, dark brown lashes that gave his eyes an exotic, almost Latin look.

Nancy produced the crowning glory: a wig of luxurious dark brown human hair, set in a shoulder-length curly style. She carefully settled it onto Georgia's bare head, applying a latex glue to hold it securely in place.

A mirror was placed before the now lovely judge so that he could see the changes wrought. Now Angela brought out the clothes Nancy had chosen for her victim, and she, Nancy and Stephanie dressed Georgia in them: scarlet lingerie (padded bra, panties, garter belt, floor-length satin slip); sheer black stockings; red patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels; and a form-fitting red satin evening gown, its left side slit to the thigh, revealing the black-hosed leg nearly to the stocking-top.

In short, Georgia looked sensational!

Now, Mistress Jennifer stepped forward and, following Nancy's prompting, used her hypnotic talents to create the new persona of Georgia. Like so many of the submissive transvestites in their little circle, she was to think of herself as a "male lesbian"--but in Georgia there was a difference. Unlike the others, in all of whom the feminine guise had been laid over a still inherent male personality, Jennifer endeavored with Georgia to do the opposite. "Georgia is the REAL you," she told the mesmerized jurist. "Your male identity, when allowed to exist, is the false one. So much so that you will feminine lingerie--and nothing else--under your judicial robes when sitting on the bench. So be careful, Georgia dear!" The assembled party-goers roared with laughter at Jennifer and Nancy's little game.

The newly created Georgia was released from her trance and turned over to her mistress. Nancy made the man/woman thank each of the dominants in the room for her part in the transformation, then the two beautiful figures sashayed out of the apartment.

That brought an end to the party and to Stephanie's role as a French maid. As Angela helped her boss strip out of the satin uniform, and Steven's own persona came to the fore, he began to wonder what her next ploy would be. What would she make him become next?

The answer camethe next morning, when Steven found another photo taped to his shaving mirror. Again, the careful programming did its job. The picture protrayed a young woman in a tailored business suit, the V of the jacket revealing her lacy camisole and the short skirt revealing her shapely legs, perched on matching kid pumps, to mid-thigh. The caption read, "Get dressed and go to work, Stephanie."

Steven moved in a trance to the closet, picking out the outfit that most closely resembled the photo. Soon, he was dressed in a red silk business suit, with short skirt and six-inch pumps, his black camisole showing beneath the jacket. The clothing impressed his new identity upon him--working girl, assistant to the new department head: Angela!

Without regard to whether or not others might see her leaving, Stephanie strode confidently to the elevator. A short time later, she was seated, knees together, legs folded beneath her chair, at what had been Angela's desk outside Steven's office. The intercom buzzed. "Stephanie, come in please."

Angela sat on the edge of her desk, dressed in a tight blakc leather business suit, a creamy white satin blouse beneath the jacket and black patent pumps setting off her magnificent legs. She smiled as Stephanie primly entered.

"This is your permanent identity, Stephanie. You are now my assistant as I once was Steven's. Your duties are similar to what my once were--with several important additions." She stood and crossed to the door, locking it; then pulled the blinds. She sat again on the desk, pulling her skirt up past her crotch, revealing that she wore no panties. Her pussy was framed by the black lines of her garter belt. "Satisfy me, Stephanie."

Her submissive nature now a permanent part of her psyche, the once-proud executive, now simply Stephanie the administrative assistant, kneeled before her boss and mistress and buried her face in Angela's crotch. Though deep within Steven's voice still cried out in humiliation, Stephanie could only think, "At last, I'm exactly where I belong!"

THE END

Poll Extended

Blogspot had some problems with the polling application over the weekend, and the current poll responses seem a bit low, so I'm extending the poll about names another week.

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Four: Picture Perfect

"Oh, here's a great idea!" Jessica cried, handing Angela a formal evening gown, of the type a teenager might wear to her senior prom. "I think with a few touches--and your instinct for the right description of the kind of girl who would wear this--we can have a very interesting version of Stephanie to enjoy." Each set of clothes Angela dressed the little TV in, combined with Angela's description of the kid of woman who would wear it, succeeded in placing a new persona in Stephanie's roster of identities.

The gown was hot pink, with a sweetheart neckline that revealed Stephanie's budding bosom. It was tightly fitted in the bodice, then expanded into a swirl of net, lace and satin in the skirt, ending at the TV's ankles. Beneath it, the women had dressed the former Steven in virginal white lingerie, including a garter belt, and sheer pink stockings with diamond clock work at the ankles. The shoes were pink satin dancing pumps with five-inch heels.

As they completed the outfit, Angela told Stephanie of the girl who wore the gown. "You are off to the prom, Stephanie," she began, "but your date is a little kinky." She slipped a wrist corsage on the boy-girl's left arm, then put a heavy silver band around her right wrist. "He wants to make sure you don't stray to any other young stud--so he has bound you." With that, she hooked the band of the corsage through the bracelet on the other arm, then padlocked it in place. Stephanie's arms were tied together, the bonds hidden by the flowers of the corsage she seemed to carry so delicately before her.

"But your date wants to make sure you are ready for the after- prom festivities as well, Stephanie," Angela continued, producing a vibrating dildo. She lifted up the gown's skirt in back as she spoke. "He wants you hot! This vibrator will fill your 'pussy' until his cock can do the same." She turned on the vibrator deep within Stephanie's ass and dropped the skirt of the gown.

"All this has turned you on, Stephanie. You want to be his little bondage slave. You hope the prom will end early so he can show you what other ways he will control you from now on," Angela concluded.

They let Stephanie enjoy the fantasy Angela had cooked up for a few minutes, while they sipped coffee and made small talk.

"Have you anything else that's interesting, Jess?" Angela asked, finally.

"Well, other than the classic French maid's costume, I have one other idea," she answered, rummaging into a pile of clothes. "Ah, here it is!" She produced a white satin dress on a hanger.

"A bridal gown--terrific!" Angela replied, quickly preparing the hapless Stephanie for yet another shift in her psyche.

"But this is no ordinary bridal gown," Jessica pointed out, as the unusual outfit settled over Stephanie's form. "Look--the front is cut short, mini-style, so her lovely legs show completely, while the back forms a train. And the sleeves--see?"

Stephanie soon saw what her mistress's boutique-owner friend meant. The sleeves were really just one sleeve: When her arms were in the lacy tunnels, they met in a pair of mittens that forced her to hold her hands folded before her. The gown was also tight! It constricted her waist, pressed against her bosom, its high lacy neckline contrasting with the short skirt in front. With it, Angela dressed her little doll in white lace panties, a matching garter belt and lacy white stockings. The shoes were white satin pumps with a floral pattern and six-inch heels.

"She's a bondage bride!" Angela exclaimed. "Oh, this is wonderful, Jess!"

The dominant turned to Stephanie, thrusting a dildo deep in the helpless boy-girl's mouth. "Stephanie, in this dress you are at once virginal and wanton. You will suck that dildo like a real cock, always wishing it were one. At that same time, you are deeply embarrassed by your bound and exposed state." With that, Angela locked a silver chain around Stephanie's ankles, limiting her stride to a mere six inches. "You will wear this until your stride is naturally the mincing walk I want to see from my bondage bride," she told the TV.

Stephanie felt her personality take on the tone her mistress described. She felt her face burn hot with shame, at the same time the rubber cock filled her mouth that slobbered all over it and her own cock grew large and heavy in her lacy panties. As instructed, she practiced her tail- and breast-wiggling walk in the extreme heels and chains. No man with an interest in B&D could have resisted this image.

The two dominant women reveled in the TV's humiliation for several minutes, then ordered a halt.

"Stephanie, it's time to leave," Angela announced. "Jess, do you have catalog photos of these outfits we've tried on?"

"Sure, Angie--what are you up to?" Jessica replied.

"I've got an idea for a way to bring out these various personalities in Stephanie. I'm going to give it a try at home." By now, Stephanie was once again in her ditzy deb outfit--and the mindset to match.

"Oh, Angela! All these clothes are SO scrumptious! Can I buy them all?" the TV exclaimed.

"Certainly, Stephanie," Angela answered. "I want you to." With that, she pulled Steven's credit card out of her purse and had the entire wardrobe--satin short set, hooker dress, prom gown, bridal gown, French maid uniform--charged to his account. Then they said their goodbyes to Jessica and Trish and left.

That evening, in Steve's apartment, Angela tacked the photos of the various outfits on a wall and stood Stephanie--clad in lingerie alone--before the display.

"Stephanie," she announced, "these pictures represent the various personalities hidden within you. Whenever you see one of them, that persona will come to the fore. You will have an irresistible urge to dress in the appropriate costume and serve me. No matter where you are--no matter whether you are Steven or Stephanie--your mind will shift as you have been instructed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Angela," the mesmerized submissive answered.

Angela began removing the photos from the wall as she continued, "When I close the door behind me tonight, you will take a dose of the drugs I have left for you, remove your lingerie and store it in the drawer I have indicated. Then you will start the tape I have left and go to bed. When you awake in the morning, you will remember nothing of today's activities, except the instructions I have given you. You will follow this routine every evening until I say otherwise. Steven will always be unaware of Stephanie--but Stephanie will always Steven is inside her and will fill his shame at his feminized state. Good night, Stephanie...I'll see you at work tomorrow."

And with that, Angela walked out the door. Following her instructions, Stephanie drank the concoction of narcotic and hormones, put away her clothes and went to bed, with the instruction tape whispering in her ears.

Over the next two days, Steven often pondered over the 36 hours of lost memory, but hesitated to mention it to anyone. After all, no one wanted an executive who had memory losses or blackouts. Otherwise, everything in his life seemed normal. Angela seemed very attentive and was doing her usual terrific job as his assistant. Maybe he would have to give her more money.

For her part, Angela was merely biding her time, letting the nightly dose of chemicals and sleep learning sink in before springing the next stage in her trap. By lunch time on the third day after Steven's first transformation, she was ready. She prepared a very special message and took it to a local office supply store, one that would send faxes for those without fax machines.

"I'd like this sent to this number," she said to the clerk, handing him a single sheet of paper. "And at precisely three o'clock," she added.

"But this is just around the corner, isn't it? Why not just deliver by hand?" the clerk asked.

"It's a surprise for a friend in the office," Angela answered, not exactly lying. With that, the clerk took the "message" and prepared to send it when requested.

At three that afternoon, Steve was told there was a fax coming in for him. He would have to pick it up himself, since Angela had gone home sick. He went to the fax machine and watched as the "message" came in. When it was complete, he picked it up and looked at it.

On the single page was a photo of a girl in a French maid's uniform and the handwritten note, "Go home, Stephanie."

Immediately, Steven felt a change come over him...he was no longer Steve the executive, but Stephanie, the sexy French maid. Giggling and mincing (even in his male clothes), he hurried to the elevator. "I must get home to greet my Mistress," he thought. With increasing urgency, as the chemicals and commands demanded, she sped to her apartment.

Deep within him, Steven thought, "I must look ridiculous," but his outer mind and body could not resist the deep conditioning his Mistress had placed upon him. It took him twenty minutes to get home by subway, his extremely feminine movements attracting stares and ridicule the whole way.

Reaching his apartment door, he discovered that his keys were missing. Sheepishly, he rang the bell. The door swung open and there stood his Mistress Angela, dangling the key ring from her index finger. Behind her stood a bevy of beautiful women--some dominant from the look of their leather clothes, others obviously submissive in their lacy finery and surreptitious bondage. Many of the salves were obviously transformed men.

"About time you got here, Stephanie," Angela announced. "All my friends and their salves are waiting for the party to start. Go get into your uniform."

Stephanie minced into the bedroom, where she found the black satin and white lace costume waiting. She stripped off Steven's business suit, shirt and tie, then picked up the extremely restrictive corset necessary for the maid's dress to fit. She hooked it around her waist, just as Angela entered.

"Excellent, Stephanie. Here, let me help you lace that up," she offered, taking the leather laces of the corset in her hands. She put her knee into the boy-girl's back and pulled, tightening the laces with all her might. After several such tugs, Stephanie's waist had been reduced to a mere 20 inches. With a flourish, Angela tied the laces off, then covered them with Krazy Glue--Stephanie would get out of this corset when her Mistress desired and not a moment sooner.

Now Stephanie sat and did her makeup as her sleep learning had taught her--and soon she was again the stunning auburn-haired young woman who had left Margaret's beauty salon two weeks ago. Next, she clipped on dangling earrings. Then came the padded bra, filling out her figure to a full 36C. Angela had not laid out panties, so the garter belt was next, followed by sleek black stockings of real silk. Three layers of white and red taffeta petticoats followed, standing nearly horizontal from her corseted waist. Then the dress: Made of heavy black satin, it clung to her artificial curves; its short skirt, sitting atop the stiff, rustly petticoats, revealed her legs all the way to the stocking tops and garters. The final touch was the black patent-leather pumps; Stephanie teetered on their seven-inch heels.

Angela again stepped forward, locking a tiny padlock through the zipper catch on the back of the dress, followed by a gold choker collar (also locked) around Stephanie's throat and matching heavy gold chains about her left wrist and ankle. "Step back, Stephanie, dear."

The Mistress observed her creation and smiled, triumphantly. "All right, Stephanie," Angela announced. "The party's about to begin--and you will serve my guests as you would serve me!"

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Three: Stephanie Goes Shopping

[I'm overdue on posting this. Apologies.]

The two young women, each stylishly dressed but in opposing fashions, strolled through the suburban mall.

The tall blonde with the short-cropped hair was clad in leather: black leather jacket over a royal blue satin blouse and a tight black leather miniskirt revealing nearly seven inches of her black nylon-sheathed thighs. Her shoes were black kid pumps with six-inch heels.

Her companion was dressed in a flowing, flowery silk print dress in lavender and blue. It, too, had a short skirt with gentle pleats. Her splendid legs were covered in sheer nylons and hints of her stocking tops and garters showed as her skirt flounced around her thighs. Her shoes were blue sandals with seven-inch heels, revealing her coral-painted toenails that matched her perfectly manicured fingernails. Her auburn hair hung in gentle waves to her shoulders.

As they passed various stores in the mall, Angela (the one in leather) often pointed out particular outfits on display, telling Stephanie how lovely she would look in such a dress. Stephanie would giggle and simper, amused that her companion found her so attractive. Onlookers would have thought some of the clothes that Angela suggested were rather unusual, for they included a little girl's party dress and Mary Janes, a fanciful maid's uniform in a costume shop and a revealing satin teddy in a lingerie display.

Inwardly, Angela was laughing her head off. Stephanie, once her insufferable boss Steven, was helpless to have any other reaction to this little window-shopping excursion. When Angela had dressed the newly submissive TV in this floral print design, she had impressed upon him that it was the type of clothing that a bubble-headed society deb might wear--and so Stephanie was forced to act just that way.

But behind that facade, Steven still knew who he was--and he could not believe all that had changed in his life in the past two days.

The morning after Angela first imposed her will on Steven, she tiptoed quietly into the bedroom where he was tied down, an intravenous line dripping a combination of feminine hormones and suggestibility-heightening drugs into his system. She carefully lifted the headphones off his ears--the headphones that had filled his mind with her carefully prepared commands all night--pulled out the IV and untied the satin scarves that held him to the bed.

"Wake up, Stephanie," she called quietly. His eyes fluttered for a moment and then he smiled at her--a sweet, feminine smile, despite the absence of makeup and long hair.

"Good morning, Mistress," he answered in a soft, husky, well-controlled contralto. "How may I serve you?"

"We have a busy day ahead of us, Stephanie," Angela said. "You have an appointment at the beauty salon--and we have lots of outfits for you to try on. Climb out of bed, sleepy head, throw on that peignoir and slip your feet into those mules. It's time for breakfast."

The half-feminized male followed his erstwhile assistant to the kitchen. Angela had a whopping big breakfast of toast, bacon, eggs, juice and coffee...while Stephanie had to be satisfied with just a half grapefruit and coffee. Angela was determined to whittle the already slender Stephanie down to a 22-inch waist and a size seven dress.

Since the beauty salon appointment was at Mistress Margaret's, Angela knew she needn't worry about how outrageous she chose to make Stephanie's appearance for the day. Margaret's clientele knew all about domination and forced crossdressing; indeed, many of them delighted in it.

After breakfast, Angela pulled out a lacy pink party dress for Stephanie. Though adult-sized, it was clearly of a style intended for a girl of nine or ten, featuring as it did a pink satin sash with a big bow and puffed sleeves. Beneath it, Stephanie would wear ruffled pink panties, three stiff white taffeta petticoats, knee socks and black patent- leather Mary Janes.

As each of the little girlish articles of clothing was placed on her, Stephanie felt her self-image shifting. No longer the submissive adult lover, she thought of herself as Angela's little sister--still completely submissive to the older woman's will but no longer in an erotic fashion. She was, in her mind, a child--and children always obey their elders.

However, the effect of the clothing on the adult body, still padded out to attractive feminine proportions, was decidedly erotic. The 36-inch breasts showed their curve under the pink lace bodice, while the long legs, with their womanly curves and smooth, hairless thighs, were shown to excellent effect under the short skirt and petticoats.

And for a dominant with an urge to feminize her males like Angela, the unadorned male face with the short hair above the ultra-feminine, ultra-childish garments was doubly erotic. Angela felt her own pussy getting hot and wet as she gazed on this creation, her own little Galatea.

"You're just the sweetest thing, little Stephy," she told the dominated man-girl. "But it's time for you to get even sweeter. Come with me." She forced Stephanie's hands into lace gloves and handed her a small black patent purse to carry. Then, without a care as to what any of Steven's neighbors might think, she took the childishly dressed TV by the hand and led him out of the apartment and down to her car.

Moments later, they were in Margaret's shop. "Hello again, Angela," the dominant beautician greeted her warmly, with a firm, wet kiss on the lips. "And this must be Stephanie! Well, you come with me, darling, and we'll have you looking as pretty as can be in no time."

Angela smiled as she watched the adult-sized little girl mince off behind Margaret. She had already given her instructions as to how Stephanie was to be transformed, so she settled back in one of the waiting room chairs, opening one of the many magazines devoted to female dominance and transvestism that Margaret kept available for her special clientele.

Back in the "transformation room," Margaret stripped Stephanie down to her lingerie, which reasserted her more adult persona. After a facial, Margaret began applying the cosmetics--dark brown mascara, eyeshadow in a range of shades from pale blue to deep purple, a rose blush (heavily applied for the embarrassed look so many of the dominants preferred on their TV slaves), and deep red lipstick. At the same time, one of Margaret's own TV slaves, a lovely thing named Karen, manicured Stephanie's hands and coated her nails with a double layer of polish, in a shade that matched her lips. Then Karen stripped off Stephanie's shoes and knee socks and performed the same function for her feet and toenails.

The last step was the wig that Margaret had prepared. Since Steven's own hair was still too short for the right effect, this auburn creation, its shoulder-length curls close in color to his natural hair, would substitute for the next few months. Margaret carefully fitted it in place, did a few touch ups and then called Angela in.

The new dominant was ecstatic. "Oh, Margaret, she's beautiful! More lovely than I could have dreamed she would be!"

She turned to her crossdressed boss. "Stephanie, it's time for you to get dressed again--but I've brought a new outfit for you." She produced a pastel lavender and blue floral print dress, its lines flowing and loose, with a short, pleated skirt.

As Stephanie let it fall over her head, Angela described the type of woman who would wear such an outfit. "This dress is designed for the young debutante, the girl who never works in her life. Indeed, she is incapable of holding down a job, she's such a ditz. Her only pleasures in life are shopping and spending money, especially on herself."

With each word, and with each swish of the new dress against his skin, Steven's mind was altered into the new version of Stephanie. The posthypnotic suggestions that Angela had impressed upon him were working--every piece of clothing he wore as Stephanie changed his persona. Now, as he slipped on the seven-inch heels that went with the flowery dress, he became this ditz-queen deb.

Angela handed him the purse, filled with the cash she had removed from his bank account the day before, and announced, "Stephanie, let's go shopping!"

"Oh, yes, Angela," Stephanie squealed in response, "let's go!"

So, now, after about an hour of traipsing around the mall, Angela steered her companion into a store with a fascinating name: "Jessica's House of Fantasy."

"Hello, Trish," Angela called to the young woman behind the counter. "Stephanie, Trish here is just like you--a girl who used to be a boy." Both of the submissive TVs blushed at having their secrets so revealed. "Is Jessica about?" Angela asked.

"She's in the back, laying out the clothes you asked her to prepare, Mistress Angela," the pretty brunette replied. "Shall I summon her for you?"

"Don't bother, dear," Angela replied. "I know the way. Come along, Stephanie." She led the way through a curtained doorway in the rear of the shop.

Jessica was a middle-aged woman who maintained a youthful figure and outlook on life. About three years ago she had transformed her son Patrick into the lovely Trish, now 20 years old. In addition to serving as counter girl, Trish also often acted as a model for her mother's unusual clothing collection.

Today, Jessica was dressed in a low-cut white silk blouse and skirt combination, her excellent legs perched on five-inch heels. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a tight French braid, revealing her elegant neck with the gold choker around it. "Angela, darling!" she cried. "And is this Stephanie?"

Stephanie blushed once again in acknowledgement, extending her hand as she had been taught. The older woman took the TV's hand in hers and pulled Stephanie to her embrace, then planted a full, wet kiss on the man-woman's mouth, her eager tongue probing deep within. Unnerved, Stephanie found herself responding to the kiss and felt her cock grow within her panties.

"OK, Jess, that's enough," Angela interrupted. "There'll be plenty of time for both of us to enjoy Stephanie's charms tonight. Right now, we have to find some clothes for her."

"Of course, Angie," Jessica answered. "How about this?" She held up a white satin blouse and shorts outfit. "Just the thing for a picnic--or gardening."

"Terrific--let's see her in it." She ordered Stephanie out of the floral print dress and the lingerie she had worn since leaving the house that night. Now totally naked, Stephanie's psyche became a blank slate, waiting for the clothing and Angela's description of the woman who wore it to write her personality upon it.

Jessica produced a pair of plain white panties and a white demi-bra for Stephanie to wear beneath the minuscule outfit. The white satin shorts were extremely brief and tight, nearly hot pants. They revealed Stephanie's smooth, hairless legs from just below the ass cheeks. The matching blouse had but three buttons, so that it hung open in a V to just below her breasts. Its short sleeves left her arms uncovered as well. The finishing touch was a pair of white sandals that strapped on, showing off Stephanie's extremely feminine feet with their twinkling red toenails.

"This is a great outfit for a teenager to wear on a picnic, isn't it, Jessica?" Angela noted, beginning the personality change in Stephanie.

"Or for a trip to the mall, so she can attract the attention of all the hunky boys," Jessica suggested, knowing Angela's plan. Unable to do anything about it, Steven felt his psyche shift again, becoming younger, giggly, full of youthful spirits.

"Yes, but any girl who would show herself off like this must be something of a slut," Angela went on. "Maybe even a bit of a cocktease."

That did it. The new Stephanie was born. With every ounce of her being, this girl wanted sex, but on her terms. She would lead a boy on until he was begging for her body--then she would give him only what she pleased.

Jessica laughed, "My god, that's amazing! Why I could literally watch her whole personality change before my eyes." She picked up a black spandex outfit, so small it looked like a belt with a small skirt attached.

"Oh, that's the hooker look," Angela explained. "Combined with the sheer black nylons and garter belt and the seven-inch heels, it'll make her eager to sell her body to any man or woman who offers money.

"But that persona has already been established by my tape last night. Let's see what else we can come up with."

More to come

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Three: Stephanie Goes Shopping

The two young women, each stylishly dressed but in opposing fashions, strolled through the suburban mall.

The tall blonde with the short-cropped hair was clad in leather: black leather jacket over a royal blue satin blouse and a tight black leather miniskirt revealing nearly seven inches of her black nylon-sheathed thighs. Her shoes were black kid pumps with six-inch heels.

Her companion was dressed in a flowing, flowery silk print dress in lavender and blue. It, too, had a short skirt with gentle pleats. Her splendid legs were covered in sheer nylons and hints of her stocking tops and garters showed as her skirt flounced around her thighs. Her shoes were blue sandals with seven-inch heels, revealing her coral-painted toenails that matched her perfectly manicured fingernails. Her auburn hair hung in gentle waves to her shoulders.

As they passed various stores in the mall, Angela (the one in leather) often pointed out particular outfits on display, telling Stephanie how lovely she would look in such a dress. Stephanie would giggle and simper, amused that her companion found her so attractive. Onlookers would have thought some of the clothes that Angela suggested were rather unusual, for they included a little girl's party dress and Mary Janes, a fanciful maid's uniform in a costume shop and a revealing satin teddy in a lingerie display.

Inwardly, Angela was laughing her head off. Stephanie, once her insufferable boss Steven, was helpless to have any other reaction to this little window-shopping excursion. When Angela had dressed the newly submissive TV in this floral print design, she had impressed upon him that it was the type of clothing that a bubble-headed society deb might wear--and so Stephanie was forced to act just that way.

But behind that facade, Steven still knew who he was--and he could not believe all that had changed in his life in the past two days.

The morning after Angela first imposed her will on Steven, she tiptoed quietly into the bedroom where he was tied down, an intravenous line dripping a combination of feminine hormones and suggestibility-heightening drugs into his system. She carefully lifted the headphones off his ears--the headphones that had filled his mind with her carefully prepared commands all night--pulled out the IV and untied the satin scarves that held him to the bed.

"Wake up, Stephanie," she called quietly. His eyes fluttered for a moment and then he smiled at her--a sweet, feminine smile, despite the absence of makeup and long hair.

"Good morning, Mistress," he answered in a soft, husky, well-controlled contralto. "How may I serve you?"

"We have a busy day ahead of us, Stephanie," Angela said. "You have an appointment at the beauty salon--and we have lots of outfits for you to try on. Climb out of bed, sleepy head, throw on that peignoir and slip your feet into those mules. It's time for breakfast."

The half-feminized male followed his erstwhile assistant to the kitchen. Angela had a whopping big breakfast of toast, bacon, eggs, juice and coffee...while Stephanie had to be satisfied with just a half grapefruit and coffee. Angela was determined to whittle the already slender Stephanie down to a 22-inch waist and a size seven dress.

Since the beauty salon appointment was at Mistress Margaret's, Angela knew she needn't worry about how outrageous she chose to make Stephanie's appearance for the day. Margaret's clientele knew all about domination and forced crossdressing; indeed, many of them delighted in it.

After breakfast, Angela pulled out a lacy pink party dress for Stephanie. Though adult-sized, it was clearly of a style intended for a girl of nine or ten, featuring as it did a pink satin sash with a big bow and puffed sleeves. Beneath it, Stephanie would wear ruffled pink panties, three stiff white taffeta petticoats, knee socks and black patent- leather Mary Janes.

As each of the little girlish articles of clothing was placed on her, Stephanie felt her self-image shifting. No longer the submissive adult lover, she thought of herself as Angela's little sister--still completely submissive to the older woman's will but no longer in an erotic fashion. She was, in her mind, a child--and children always obey their elders.

However, the effect of the clothing on the adult body, still padded out to attractive feminine proportions, was decidedly erotic. The 36-inch breasts showed their curve under the pink lace bodice, while the long legs, with their womanly curves and smooth, hairless thighs, were shown to excellent effect under the short skirt and petticoats.

And for a dominant with an urge to feminize her males like Angela, the unadorned male face with the short hair above the ultra-feminine, ultra-childish garments was doubly erotic. Angela felt her own pussy getting hot and wet as she gazed on this creation, her own little Galatea.

"You're just the sweetest thing, little Stephy," she told the dominated man-girl. "But it's time for you to get even sweeter. Come with me." She forced Stephanie's hands into lace gloves and handed her a small black patent purse to carry. Then, without a care as to what any of Steven's neighbors might think, she took the childishly dressed TV by the hand and led him out of the apartment and down to her car.

Moments later, they were in Margaret's shop. "Hello again, Angela," the dominant beautician greeted her warmly, with a firm, wet kiss on the lips. "And this must be Stephanie! Well, you come with me, darling, and we'll have you looking as pretty as can be in no time."

Angela smiled as she watched the adult-sized little girl mince off behind Margaret. She had already given her instructions as to how Stephanie was to be transformed, so she settled back in one of the waiting room chairs, opening one of the many magazines devoted to female dominance and transvestism that Margaret kept available for her special clientele.

Back in the "transformation room," Margaret stripped Stephanie down to her lingerie, which reasserted her more adult persona. After a facial, Margaret began applying the cosmetics--dark brown mascara, eyeshadow in a range of shades from pale blue to deep purple, a rose blush (heavily applied for the embarrassed look so many of the dominants preferred on their TV slaves), and deep red lipstick. At the same time, one of Margaret's own TV slaves, a lovely thing named Karen, manicured Stephanie's hands and coated her nails with a double layer of polish, in a shade that matched her lips. Then Karen stripped off Stephanie's shoes and knee socks and performed the same function for her feet and toenails.

The last step was the wig that Margaret had prepared. Since Steven's own hair was still too short for the right effect, this auburn creation, its shoulder-length curls close in color to his natural hair, would substitute for the next few months. Margaret carefully fitted it in place, did a few touch ups and then called Angela in.

The new dominant was ecstatic. "Oh, Margaret, she's beautiful! More lovely than I could have dreamed she would be!"

She turned to her crossdressed boss. "Stephanie, it's time for you to get dressed again--but I've brought a new outfit for you." She produced a pastel lavender and blue floral print dress, its lines flowing and loose, with a short, pleated skirt.

As Stephanie let it fall over her head, Angela described the type of woman who would wear such an outfit. "This dress is designed for the young debutante, the girl who never works in her life. Indeed, she is incapable of holding down a job, she's such a ditz. Her only pleasures in life are shopping and spending money, especially on herself."

With each word, and with each swish of the new dress against his skin, Steven's mind was altered into the new version of Stephanie. The posthypnotic suggestions that Angela had impressed upon him were working--every piece of clothing he wore as Stephanie changed his persona. Now, as he slipped on the seven-inch heels that went with the flowery dress, he became this ditz-queen deb.

Angela handed him the purse, filled with the cash she had removed from his bank account the day before, and announced, "Stephanie, let's go shopping!"

"Oh, yes, Angela," Stephanie squealed in response, "let's go!"

So, now, after about an hour of traipsing around the mall, Angela steered her companion into a store with a fascinating name: "Jessica's House of Fantasy."

"Hello, Trish," Angela called to the young woman behind the counter. "Stephanie, Trish here is just like you--a girl who used to be a boy." Both of the submissive TVs blushed at having their secrets so revealed. "Is Jessica about?" Angela asked.

"She's in the back, laying out the clothes you asked her to prepare, Mistress Angela," the pretty brunette replied. "Shall I summon her for you?"

"Don't bother, dear," Angela replied. "I know the way. Come along, Stephanie." She led the way through a curtained doorway in the rear of the shop.

Jessica was a middle-aged woman who maintained a youthful figure and outlook on life. About three years ago she had transformed her son Patrick into the lovely Trish, now 20 years old. In addition to serving as counter girl, Trish also often acted as a model for her mother's unusual clothing collection.

Today, Jessica was dressed in a low-cut white silk blouse and skirt combination, her excellent legs perched on five-inch heels. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a tight French braid, revealing her elegant neck with the gold choker around it. "Angela, darling!" she cried. "And is this Stephanie?"

Stephanie blushed once again in acknowledgement, extending her hand as she had been taught. The older woman took the TV's hand in hers and pulled Stephanie to her embrace, then planted a full, wet kiss on the man-woman's mouth, her eager tongue probing deep within. Unnerved, Stephanie found herself responding to the kiss and felt her cock grow within her panties.

"OK, Jess, that's enough," Angela interrupted. "There'll be plenty of time for both of us to enjoy Stephanie's charms tonight. Right now, we have to find some clothes for her."

"Of course, Angie," Jessica answered. "How about this?" She held up a white satin blouse and shorts outfit. "Just the thing for a picnic--or gardening."

"Terrific--let's see her in it." She ordered Stephanie out of the floral print dress and the lingerie she had worn since leaving the house that night. Now totally naked, Stephanie's psyche became a blank slate, waiting for the clothing and Angela's description of the woman who wore it to write her personality upon it.

Jessica produced a pair of plain white panties and a white demi-bra for Stephanie to wear beneath the minuscule outfit. The white satin shorts were extremely brief and tight, nearly hot pants. They revealed Stephanie's smooth, hairless legs from just below the ass cheeks. The matching blouse had but three buttons, so that it hung open in a V to just below her breasts. Its short sleeves left her arms uncovered as well. The finishing touch was a pair of white sandals that strapped on, showing off Stephanie's extremely feminine feet with their twinkling red toenails.

"This is a great outfit for a teenager to wear on a picnic, isn't it, Jessica?" Angela noted, beginning the personality change in Stephanie.

"Or for a trip to the mall, so she can attract the attention of all the hunky boys," Jessica suggested, knowing Angela's plan. Unable to do anything about it, Steven felt his psyche shift again, becoming younger, giggly, full of youthful spirits.

"Yes, but any girl who would show herself off like this must be something of a slut," Angela went on. "Maybe even a bit of a cocktease."

That did it. The new Stephanie was born. With every ounce of her being, this girl wanted sex, but on her terms. She would lead a boy on until he was begging for her body--then she would give him only what she pleased.

Jessica laughed, "My god, that's amazing! Why I could literally watch her whole personality change before my eyes." She picked up a black spandex outfit, so small it looked like a belt with a small skirt attached.

"Oh, that's the hooker look," Angela explained. "Combined with the sheer black nylons and garter belt and the seven-inch heels, it'll make her eager to sell her body to any man or woman who offers money.

"But that persona has already been established by my tape last night. Let's see what else we can come up with."

Growing Up to Be Sexy?

Barb Talbot made this comment over on her blog:

"There is something unsettling about seeing pretty girls like Sam, Rudy, and Winnie grow up to be sexy."

She's referring, of course, to the little girls who starred in series like Who's the Boss?, The Cosby Show, and The Wonder Years turning into babes as they enter their teens and twenties.

So, I decided to do some comparisons, including of two additional beauties--my own old crush, Barbara Cooper (Valerie Bertinelli) of One Day at a Time and Ruthie Camden (Mackenzie Rosman) of 7th Heaven.

So, here's tomboy Sam who turned into Phoebe of Charmed (Alyssa Milano):


Rudy (Keshia Knight-Pulliam) who is now a featured actress in films like Beauty Shop:


Winnie Cooper of The Wonder Years who, after a brief stint on The West Wing, has apparently turned into the world's sexiest mathematician:



Barbara Cooper (no relation) of One Day at a Time, who grew into a sexy 20-year-old on the show, then "queen of the TV movies", and is now the very sexy spokesperson for a diet program:


And, finally, one that shocked me when I accidentally tuned into the program after not watching for years. Who'd have guessed that little Ruthie Camden would turn out like this?


How about you? Any teen or sub-teen crushes that have turned into the women of your dreams?

Reminder: Prissy's Sissies

Just a reminder:

The first of my art to be published at Prissy's Sissies is now on view. As noted, it's a pay site, but reasonable and always legitimate.

And for those of us who enjoy petticoat punishment and humiliation, a real turn-on!

Poll Results

I suspected panties would turn out number one on this hit parade, with hosiery a close second. The combo of hose and heels was my first experience.

I was a little surprised that no one had first tried on Mommy's or Sister's makeup, though.

New poll starts today.

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter Two: Steven Becomes Stephanie

Steven poured himself a cup of the strong coffee that Angela had made and settled into his chair. He ran his tongue over his teeth--something was different about this coffee. Not that it tasted bad--just different, somehow.

Outside his office, Angela watched through the glass wall as Steven downed mouthful after mouthful of the brew. She smiled secretively. This was the beginning of Steven's transformation, she thought.

But in reality, that transformation had begun six months ago with her own change from sweet, frilly secretary type to dynamic, dominant assistant. The afternoon of the creation of Susan's new maid Sally (nee Sal), her two new friends had invited her to Mistress Margaret's beauty salon. "If you're going to be a dominant, you need a whole new look," Jennifer told her. "Besides, maybe it will give you some ideas for Stephanie's new life as well."

The visit to Margaret's establishment was another revelation for Angela. In the back room of the otherwise normal beauty salon, the dominant beautician maintained a business devoted to aiding her mistress friends and associates in turning their husbands, boyfriends and sons into sweetly submissive little transvestites.

There was only one TV client today, a boy of about 15 named Nathaniel. His mother, Eva, had grown tired of his constant carping about the greater freedom she gave his sister. "You want to be a girl--so be it!" she said to him as Margaret tied him down to the special chair used for difficult cases. The lad continued to struggle--so hard that Margaret knew she would never be able to do her transforming work. She produced a hypodermic filled with a bright blue liquid.

"This will calm him down," the hairdresser told Eva. "He'll be nearly catatonic until I give him the antidote," she added, as she pressed the syringe into Nathaniel's arm. "Plus, it will allow you to impress any special orders you might want."

Eva grinned. "Oh, I have some special orders, all right!"

Margaret turned the boy's transformation over to an assistant and escorted Angela back to the main part of the salon. "I think I know just the right 'look' for you, Angela," she said. She opened a presentation book filled with glossy photos of models in a variety of hair styles and makeups. She flipped through several pages, then stopped, pointing out a particular shot. "What do you think?"

"Perfect!" Angela glowed--this would shock the pants off Steven for sure--pun intended.

Margaret started work--trimming Angela's shoulder- length hair to a boyish shag, then using mousse and gel to make it into a tousled halo then set off her high cheekbones. Next was the makeup: a completely new look for the formerly shy and retiring Angela. Instead of the pale blues, pinks and roses she normally chose for herself, Margaret went for stronger colors. Her eyes were accented with deep brown shadow and a heavy application of mascara, lengthening her lashes 'til she could feel them brush her cheeks with every blink. The blush was a deep rose, making her cheekbones stand out further. Finally, a deep red lipstick, shiny and wet--matched by the same color on her finger- and toenails.

The whole process took the better part of two hours. As she helped Angela from the chair, Margaret asked, "Would you like to see Nathaniel, now?"

"Would I ever!" Angela replied, following the beauty salon proprietress into the back.

Sitting in the bondage chair was a very different person from the mousy teenager they had left two hours ago. Nathaniel's brown hair had been changed to a vibrant red, which served to bring out the natural green of his eyes and his freckles. It had further been permed into attractive ringlets that hung to his shoulders. Those green eyes were highlighted by shadows and mascaras in green and brown. A light dusting of blush (not enough to hide the beguiling freckles) brought out the transformed boy's cheekbones and a soft pink lipstick made his mouth look sweet and girlish. Overall, this was a knockout any teenaged boy would beg for a date.

He sat upright in the chair, his mind and body still enthralled to the drug Margaret had injected into him earlier. Now she produced the antidote. "Wait!" Eva interrupted. "I haven't given him his 'orders' yet."

Eva turned to the lovely young thing who had been her son only two hours ago. "Your name is Natasha. While you are constantly aware of your true male gender, you are unable to reveal that gender to anyone. You will always act like a girl of 15--a girl who thoroughly enjoys being as feminine as possible at all times.

"You receive a sexual thrill from wearing the most feminine of clothes: lace, silk, satin, nylon. But you cannot abide the feel of pants on your legs--in fact, pulling on a pair of pants causes you great pain." She smiled evilly and looked at Margaret. "Jennifer suggested that one--she'll never be able to appear as a boy again!" The dominant mother turned again to her new "daughter." "You are totally devoted to me and to your sister," she told the young TV. "Any order we give you is like the greatest wish you ever had--to be fulfilled immediately.

"All right," she said to Margaret, "wake her up."

The syringe with the antidote sank into Natasha's arm and in moments, the beautiful green eyes fluttered. "Oh mother!" the soft voice cried. "I'm beautiful--thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Eva replied, settling into another of the salon's chairs, pulling her skirt up to reveal her unclad sex. "Now come over here and show your appreciation." Without hesitation, Natasha sank to her knees before her mother and buried her face in Eva's crotch.

Margaret and Angela tiptoed out, silently closing the door behind them.

Angela thought back on that first time she had seen the dominants' amazing mind-control drug in action. But she knew there was no way she could manage to inject the chemical into Steven. Fortunately, Jennifer and Susan had told her that it could be taken orally as well...and though the effect took longer to build up, repeated applications would result in a totally pliable male psyche--with the subject unaware of the way in which his mind had been altered.

She had been slipping the drug into Steven's food--lunch, coffee, water--for the past month. Today should be the day: When he finished his current cup of coffee, there should be enough of the chemical in his system for him to fall victim to her suggestions.

She glanced into the office. He had placed the empty cup on his desk--now was the time. She picked up her phone and dialed his intercom number. "Yes?" he responded.

"Steven, you are frozen to your chair," she told him. "You cannot move; you cannot speak, until I permit it." She looked into the office, he was rigid in his seat--it was working! She hung up the phone and entered his office, locking the door behind her and pulling the blinds on the glass wall.

"All right, Steven, you can talk," she said.

"Angela--wha-what's going on? What's happening?" he blurted out.

"Shut up!" she ordered, and instantly his mouth closed. "I have carefully constructed a little trap for you, Steven. A trap of lace, silk, nylon and satin. Stand up and come here." He obeyed. She pulled a pair of pink satin tap panties from her pocket and held them out before her. "You want these, Steven, more than you have ever wanted anything in your life. They represent everything desirable in the world--money, a beautiful woman, sex! Most of all sex."

She watched the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at the lovely pair of panties she waved before him. She watched his hands clutch and unclutch at his sides; he wanted to grab the panties from her but could not until she permitted it. Angela tossed the panties to the floor. "Pick them up and put them on."

Practically tearing off his pants and shorts, Steven picked up the panties and pulled them up his legs, settling them about his loins, rubbing their satiny softness against his cock and balls. "That's enough of that--stand still!" she commanded.

"Put your pants back on and leave for home. I will arrive precisely one hour behind you. By then, you are to have taken a bath and completely shaved your body, except for your head, of course. When I ring, you will greet me at the door dressed only in your panties. Now go!"

Steven pulled on his pants and mechanically walked out of the office. Angela sat on the edge of the desk and laughed. Well, Steven-- we'll soon find out what kind of a Stephanie you make!

That evening, dressed in a black leather corset, jacket and skirt, with sheer black nylons and six-inch heels, Angela rang Steven's doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open and there stood her once-masculine boss, body nearly as smooth and pink as the panties on his hips. His cock strained against the satin.

"Excellent," Angela commented. "Now, it's time to complete your transformation." She brought in the suitcase she carried and opened it. Inside was an array of feminine clothing of every kind, from prom gown to hooker's costume. Angela pulled out a set of pink lingerie that matched the panties her boss already wore and ordered him to put on the bra, garter belt and waltz-length slip. "This will do for now.

"Steven, in a few moments, I will order you to bed, dressed just as you are. While you are asleep, a new treatment of hormones and chemicals will begin, along with a set of sleep-learning commands. Within the week, you will be Stephanie whenever I want her."

She could see the look of surprise and fear that entered his eyes. And at the same time, a look of longing and want. He wanted this treatment more than he could ever say...whether that was latent desire or something created by the drugs in his system she could not say. But Angela was overjoyed to see both emotions--she wanted him to suffer in his new identity, but she also wanted him to desire it.

Moments later, Steven was carefully tucked into bed. Angela set up the intravenous line into his arm as she had been instructed, the line that would slowly drip a dilute solution of female hormones and drugs into his system. To increase his feelings of femininity and helplessness, she had thrust a vibrating dildo deep into his ass and tied him to the bed with satin scarves. She fitted the headphones over his ears and turned out the light. "Good night, Stephanie."

Once outside the room, she switched on the tape player. "Good evening, Stephanie," it began. "That is your name, unless Mistress Angela allows you to answer to another. You have no will of your own, only the ability to respond to Mistress Angela's commands. You desire to wear women's clothes in whatever fashion Mistress Angela suggests--and your mind will conform to the clothes you wear. Dressed as a French maid, you will be sexy, flirty and devoted to serving your Mistress. In the clothes of a hooker, you will be compelled to offer your body to any man with the money to pay for it. Dolled up as a little girl, you will act as if the Mistress were your Mommy and obey her in everything. Now sleep, these instructions will repeat later."

Angela turned off the speakers as the soft music faded in. Tomorrow would be Stephanie's debut!

Big News!

Starting this Friday, August 17, I will be a regular contributor to Prissy's Sissies.

Now, this is a pay site, but the cost is pretty low and I have never had a problem with Prissy. I've occasionally done stuff for her in the past and she's always been an upfront person. I look forward to working with her on a regular basis and I hope you'll support her as well.

The first issue my stuff will be in is #66, again to be published on Friday, August 17.

Petticoating the Boss, Chapter One: Angela Gets Dominant

"Angela! Come in here, please!" Steven's voice roared through the office door to his assistant. In moments, she was in the doorway.

"Yes, Steve. May I help you?" she asked sweetly.

Steve looked her over: He had hired Angela, he had to admit, mostly on the basis of her looks, but she had turned into the most efficient assistant he had ever had. Still she was a woman and looked it--although she had recently changed her style of dress, it seemed.

When he hired her, Angela's tastes seemed given to flowery, flowing prints, lace and silk. Until the last six months, he had never seen her in slacks. Now, she stood before him in a black leather business suit with a red satin blouse beneath the jacket. The skirt was short and tight--revealing her legs to mid-thigh. And those legs were, as always, spectacular, particularly now, perched on six-inch red heels. She had cut her hair recently as well, now wearing it in a stylish, but somewhat boyish cut. Her makeup remained impeccably tasteful--but it seemed more severe at the same time. When asked, she had passed the changes off as "the shifting winds of fashion," but Steven suspected there was more to it.

"I said, may I help you, Steve?" Angela's repeated query broke her boss out of his revery and he pointed to the coffeemaker on his credenza. "I'm out of coffee," he said. "Make some more, will you?

"Oh--and that pile of reports needs to be photocopied," he added, indicating the two-foot stack of papers on the corner of his desk.

Angela sighed, and moved to the coffeemaker, spooning coffee into the machine, getting a pot of water, and then left, picking up the reports on her way out. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

In many ways, Steven was one of the best employers she had ever had--but Angela had grown tired of his constant demands for her to perform duties she felt were beneath her title of assistant. She made the coffee and copied the reports--but those days were soon to end, she thought.

A little over six months ago, Angela had met Mistress Jennifer and Mistress Susan at a little bar on the East Side. Each was accompanied by a very intriguing companion. Jennifer introduced the lovely blonde by her side as Sissy Dani, her male lesbian slave. At Angela's wide-eyed, innocent stare, Jennifer displayed, surreptitiously, Dani's male equipment, and then showed how his bracelets could be locked together--and how much Dani loved the whole idea. Dani also wore a sedate but attractive white raw silk dress, its hem stopping six inches above her knees, sheer stockings, and white pumps with six-inch heels.

Turning to Susan, Angela noted that her friend, called Teasing Tammy, seemed quite young. "Indeed she is," answered Susan. "Tammy is just 16--but a real cockteaser, as you can tell from her clothing." Tammy was dressed in a short, frilly pink minidress that did little to hide her full, lush figure. She also wore sheer pink stockings and pink, lace-trimmed ankle socks, while her feet were shod in six-inch pink pumps. Tammy seemed determined to pick up a man in this bar, as she constantly let her skirt hike up to her stocking tops, while she pouted her lips and let her tongue slip out in a teasing fashion. "Actually, Tammy is my brother Tommy--he's been transformed just as Dani has," Susan admitted. "His role in life is to bring more men into our little TV trap."

Jennifer and Susan were both dressed in leather-- Jennifer in a red leather skirt and white satin blouse with black, thigh-high leather boots with six-inch heels, Susan in a black leather jumpsuit, decorated with zippers, including one that ran from her collar to her crotch, and was now pulled open to an inch below her otherwise naked breasts. She also wore six-inch heels, but hers were pumps set off by the pale stockings that showed between her ankles and the zippered bottoms of the pegged pants of her jumpsuit.

Both had miniature whips hanging from their belts, and a ring of keys. Jennifer explained the keys were for an assortment of locking bondage gear they kept in their purses.

Susan pointed out that Tammy was about to make a "conquest." A slender young man of about 22 had caught Tammy's eye and the two were now strolling to a dark booth elsewhere in the bar. "She'll signal us when she's ready for the next step," Susan said. "Tell us about yourself, Angela."

Intrigued by the unusual lifestyle these two attractive women had chosen for themselves, Angela spoke about her job as Steven's assistant and about the increasing frustration she felt at his consistent chauvinist attitude toward her and her duties. Jennifer grinned. "Sounds like a terrific candidate for our new transformation process," she pointed out. "We've been using hypnosis as our means of making our little darlings meet our expectations and needs...but now, a doctor friend has suggested a new method, involving drugs that heighten suggestibility. She says the process might take a little longer, but it wouldn't require the constant reinforcement that hypnosis does. Are you game?"

Angela's brow knitted while she thought about it. "Let me see how you handle Tammy's 'conquest,'" she replied. "I want to see how this works."

Jennifer and Susan agreed and the three turned back to the bar to await Tammy's signal that her friend was ready for them to pounce.

Half an hour later, Angela joined the two dominants and their slaves as they returned to Jennifer's house. Tammy's "conquest," Sal, slept peacefully between Dani and Tammy. Susan explained that Tammy had doused Sal's drink with a powerful sedative that would have the man knocked out for hours. Arriving at Jennifer's they carried the unconscious victim into the bedroom and bound him to the vanity bench.

Angela watched as they stripped him of his clothes-- suit, shirt, underwear and all. Tammy and Dani, acting like a pair of ladies' maids, dressed Sal in lingerie: frilly tap panties, padded bra, matching garterbelt, sheer stockings. Jennifer used cosmetics to feminize his youthful face--mascara, eyeshadow, blush and lipstick. She stepped back to examine her work. Satisfied, she settled a pair of earphones over Sal's head, turned out the overhead light and left him, still bound to the vanity bench, facing the brightly lit mirror.

"Now what?" Angela asked.

"Now the tape player will impress my hypnotic suggestions on his sleeping mind," Jennifer answered. "By morning, Sal will be Sally--in everything but body.

"Would you like to listen to a bit of the tape?" she asked.

Angela nodded, and Jennifer led her into the adjoining room, where she flipped a switch. Instantly, Jennifer's voice, in a soft sultry tone, filled the room. "I prepared this while Dani and Tammy were dressing him," she told Angela.

"You love women's clothes," the recorded voice told the drowsing Sal. "You love dressing and looking like a woman. The feel of satin, silk, and nylon arouses you. You are particularly fond of clothes that make you look like a servant. The traditional French maid's uniform--black satin minidress, cap, apron, black hose and very high heels--is a special turn-on. As such, your name will be Serving Sally.

"You are a sexual submissive. You are compelled to obey the commands and orders of women. You are particularly responsive to those who will dress you in beautiful clothes and keep you in bondage," the voice continued. "You want to be a male, lesbian slave. But you will never forget that you are a man, and the great humiliation of your feminine, submissive state.

"When the alarm clock strikes 6:30 a.m., you will awaken. You will not remember being hypnotized, but you will be prepared to follow my instructions implicitly. When you see yourself in the mirror upon awakening, you will immediately come. Forever after, the sight of yourself as a woman will be equated with sex in your mind: You will be unable to have sex while dressed as a male. At the snapping of my fingers, you will return to your 'normal' personality, with full memory of the humiliations you have experienced. The spoken phrase 'Tie your apron, Sally,' will bring back your maid-servant-slave personality....."

The voice drifted off and was replaced by soft soothing music. "The tape will repeat periodically through the night," Jennifer explained. "Now, come with me," she said.

Susan, Jennifer and Angela spent the rest of the evening planning Steven's transformation...but first would come Angela's own change. The two experienced dominants explained the importance of appearance--the dominant, by dressing in clothes that accented her feminine charms while also indicating her power, impressed a subtle message on the intended submissive. They went through many of their fashion magazines, pointing out to Angela the clothes that would best befit her wanted role of dominant woman.

Susan and Jennifer invited Angela to join them in bed that night, with Dani and Tammy, as well. Angela, although she had never experienced lesbian sex before, was enthralled with the pleasure she got from the others, particularly when the dominants ordered their crossdressed slaves to pleasure Angela's pussy and breasts. Later, Angela had her first taste of dominant power as she fucked Dani's ass with a dildo. It was a heady experience and set her firmly on the path of dominance. Steven's days as a free male were numbered!

The next morning the three opened the door to Sal/Sally's bedroom just before 6:30. As the clock began ringing, Sal's eyes popped open and he saw his feminized face in the brightly lit mirror above the vanity. At the same moment, his body shuddered and his cock exploded, filling the tap panties with cum. Jennifer, Susan and Angela all laughed at the reluctant TV's embarrassment.

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled as he strained at his bonds. "What are you doing to me?"

"Shut up!" shouted Jennifer. "And tie your apron, Sally!"

Angela watched the lingerie-clad man's eyes glaze over, as the feminine, submissive personality Jennifer's posthypnotic commands imposed took over his body. He lowered his eyes and said, apologetically, "Of course, Mistress. How may I serve you?"

"Wow!" thought Angela. "If he's this easy to handle after just one night of commands, how much can I manage to do with Steven once I get my claws into him?" She watched as Jennifer unbound Sally and showed her the maid's outfit laid out on the bed. The mesmerized TV practically threw herself at the satin uniform she had been trained to desire...and Angela observed how the little darling's cock filled the panties again.

With an urgency born of erotic desire, Sally slipped on the seven-inch black patent-leather pumps laid out for her, tied on her apron, perched her cap on her still masculine curls and curtseyed to the three women. "I am ready to serve, Mistresses--what may I do for you?"

Susan grinned as she circled the new maid, reaching under the petticoats to pat her ass. "Go make our bed, then start breakfast," she told Serving Sally, then chuckled as she watched the pantied ass under the petticoated miniskirt wiggle off to her chores.

Angela watched as well...and contemplated how she would alter Steven's psyche to her own demands.

More to come

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Bulletin Board Sissy, Part Three

Stop number three was Glamour Girl, the clothing store. It was a small, exclusive shop with a single service counter. Brian sashayed to the desk and said, again, "I am Brenda Big Tits. Mistress Sarah wishes me to be beautiful for her."

The clerk, a young blonde with a spectacular figure and long, slender legs revealed by her mini-skirt and high heels, smiled conspiratorially and said, "Of course, Brenda. Come with me."

She was younger than he had ever imagined Mistress Sarah could be, but Brian realized that even young women could have a dominant soul. In a private room in the back, she showed Brian the collection of dresses, skirts, blouses and gowns his electronic mistress had already picked out for him. "Strip to your corset, please, Brenda...and bring out the lingerie you have already bought."

When he had complied, the clerk dressed him in the demi-cup bra and panty set (the pink one) and filled out the bra with a very realistic set of falsies. A little latex glue kept them securely attached to his hairless chest and makeup carefully blended the edges into his natural skin tone. "These will do," she chuckled, "until you grow your own."

Over this she placed a black velvet cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline, revealing the top third of his ersatz boobs, and a hemline that stopped four inches above his knees.She carefully made sure it fit properly, slipped his feet into a pair of black patent pumps with five-inch heels, then turned him toward the mirror.

Brian grew weak at the sight before him. Even without makeup and long hair, he was a woman! He judged his breasts to be at least a 38DD (just as in his dream); they thrust out above his wasp waist and their creamy globes were displayed by the low-cut neckline of the dress. His legs looked like skyscrapers in the heels and minidress. He felt his cock grow within his tap panties and could not resist rubbing it surreptitiously.

The clerk slapped his hand away from his crotch. "None of that, Brenda!" she commanded. "We still have lots of clothes to try on." And so they did--street wear: skirts, blouses, sweaters; office wear: tailored suits worn without blouses, silk wrap dresses; more evening wear, including a satin bustier gown in hot pink with slit up the left side of the skirt, reaching all the way to his hip; and play wear, concentrating on halter tops and tight short shorts, worn with strappy sandals with four-, five- and six-inch heels.

Everything was designed, of course, to display his massive breasts to their full advantage. The final outfit was a tight denim miniskirt topped by a bright orange sweater that hugged his tits like a second skin. No man would pass this vision without looking twice. His shoes were patent pumps in a matching orange, perching him on six-inch spikes.

He presented his credit card and watched as the clerk packaged all the outfits and ordered them sent to his home. "But what about the clothes I'm wearing?" Brian exclaimed.

"Oh, you're to wear those out of here," she insisted. "Those were Mistress Sarah's explicit instructions."

"But I have another stop to make--the Lovely Lady beauty salon," Brian protested.

"Yes, I know," the clerk responded. "It's right next door--and they're expecting you any moment. Better hurry if you don't want to be late!"

She all but pushed the humiliated TV into the street. It was late afternoon by now and the street was not as crowded as it might have been. Still, Brian did not want to take a chance on being noticed. He hugged the wall of the building as he minced his way the few feet from the door of Glamour Girl to the entrance to Lovely Lady.

A uniformed attendant was standing in the doorway of the salon. "You must be Brenda Big Tits," she laughed. "Come in, dearie...we're all ready for you!"

The attendant, resplendent in her uniform of black satin miniskirt topped with red satin V-necked blazer (without any blouse, apparently), conducted the blushing Brian to the back of the salon.

There, other employees, similarly attired, bustled about. Brian was quickly seated in one of the salon chairs and handed a magazine to peruse while he waited for the beautician. Resigned to his fate now, he opened the magazine and glanced down at its contents. He nearly shut it at once. "Men into Women" the page declared. "Demanding mistresses feminize their males to assure submission," it continued. It seemed to be completely devoted to stories of how dominant women were turning their husbands, boyfriends--in some cases, even their bosses!--into submissive, pliant, feminized slaves.

Brian was both drawn to and horrified by the prospect that he could easily be a case-study for the magazine. He had nearly worked up the courage to leave when the attendant escorted a stunning redhead in white patent leather to his chair. "Here's our Brenda Big Tits," the attendant giggled. "Make her adorable!"

The redhead leaned over, allowing her well-formed bosom to jiggle in Brian's face. "Oh, I'm sure Miss Big Tits will be a real vixen when I'm done," she advised. "By the way, Brenda, I'm Sarah."

Brian gulped. Sarah? Mistress Sarah? All day he had wondered which of his several tormentors in the various shops he had visited was his mysterious Electronic Mistress--now he knew.

Sarah allowed her hand to stray over Brian's artificially massive breasts, down over his tummy and into his lap, where his enormous erection was barely concealed by the feminine garments he wore. "Well, Brenda Big Tits, you're certainly well named," the dominant laughed. "Perhaps some day we can see to it that your figure is truly your own." And she laughed again as she felt Brian's cock pulse at that taunt.

She beckoned one of the assistants, who came over bearing a pair of earphones--the little button kind that fit inside the ear--and a blindfold, like the type women sometimes wear to cover their eyes at night. "I want you completely relaxed and in control--my control--while I finish your transformation, Brenda. These will help." She fitted the blindfold snugly over Brian's eyes and he was suddenly sightless. Next, he felt her settle the earphones into his ears. Now, he couldn't hear anything, either.

But somewhere a switch was flipped and soft, almost tuneless music began to play through the 'phones. Under it, Brian thought he heard a feminine voice (Mistress Sarah's voice?) speaking, softly but surely--but he couldn't be certain. The combination of the utter darkness and the music (and the voice?) soon had him floating in a reverie. In time, he was completely unaware of anything happening around him.

"Wake up, Brenda Big Tits." The soft, pleasing voice of Mistress Sarah brought the transformed Brian to consciousness. "Keep your eyes closed. I'll tell you when to open them." Feeling strangely obedient, he complied, as she helped him from the chair and guided him, in the unfamiliar heels, to another part of the shop.

"Stand there, Brenda," Mistress Sarah ordered, "and put your hands on your hips. Pose pretty, now." He did as asked.

"Open your eyes."

He blinked a moment from the long period of darkness and then his eyes focussed on the reflected image before him. His--or rather her--image.

The transformed body was as he remembered it--absolutely sexy with the orange sweater outlining the 38DD tits and the tight denim miniskirt hugging his hips and revealing his legs to mid thigh.

But the face--the face was new! It was framed by shoulder-length, chestnut-colored curls; the eyes seemed huge, with long, dark lashes, dramatic shadows and exotic curved eyebrows; the cheeks were a blushing pink; and the mouth was a cupid's bow of bright red. Brenda Big Tits was every bit as gorgeous in reality as in the dream.

Brenda felt her cock grow in her panties. Her own image was a powerful turn-on. She grew weak in the knees, wobbling on her six-inch heels.

"You're mine, Brenda Big Tits," she heard Mistress Sarah announce. And with those words, Brian felt a strange alteration within himself. The pose of femininity ceased to be a facade and became more real. His devotion to Mistress Sarah and longing to obey her became not a voluntary act, but a mysterious command.

"Yes, you're mine, Brenda," the dominant repeated. "While you were in the chair, the earphones fed your mind with the subliminal desire to be Brenda at all times and Brenda is mine The sight of your final transformation and my words activated the new you!

"Now, come, Brenda Big Tits," Mistress Sarah continued as she locked a collar and lead to the TV's neck. "We have a lot of fun ahead of us."

THE END