Another story from Priscilla Gay Bouffant
Chapter One:
Sissy Novitiate Vivian
I couldn't believe it! My trust fund cut off! That bitch of an attorney had refused to give me Aunt Melissa's new address or phone number. She'd only softened after I'd told her the depth of my problems.
"So you're not only penniless, you have a drug addiction. Intravenous usage?" she asked.
"No. I snort it. I ingest it nasally. I'm still addicted though. Not only that, I owe some pretty big dealers a lot of money. They've threatened to kill me. Please help me Ms. Robbins. Tell Aunt Melissa I'll do anything she wants me to do," I whined, hoping she'd pity me. It worked.
"I'll contact your aunt. I can't promise a thing. Call me this evening 8 p.m. at this number. I'll have some sort of answer then. Call collect of course," she added condescendingly. At the appointed time, I returned her call. She gave me the most bizarre set of instructions, and conditions possible. "These come directly from your aunt. Under no other circumstances will she assist you at all. If you violate one condition or instruction, it will be jail or the drug dealers. Do I make myself clear, William?" she asked very firmly.
"Yes, Ms. Robbins," I answered meekly.
"Good," she replied. "Now get to the airport. Once you're on the plane, get rid of your identification. Remember. The people meeting you at the airport in Long Island will be two women. To throw anyone off, they'll be holding up a sign with the name 'Vivian' on it. They will take you to your aunt's new estate. It's a ways from the city. Oh! By the way, Your aunt is very concerned over your physical condition. She'll be sending her personal physician to the airport. She'll ride in the limousine with you to the estate. I'd hurry if I were you. Your plane leaves in three hours." She said as she hung up.
My prepaid ticket was there, and as soon as I got on the plane, I got rid of my identification in the restroom. The flight was non-stop so no one would be asking for it. The coast to coast trip was around six hours, so I curled up and slept some. During my waking hours I thought of all the changes, I'd been told I would have to make.
I'd been instructed to bring no clothing, belongings or anything. I'd be getting a whole new wardrobe. In addition, I'd have some sort of tutor to learn new manners and skills. Accordingly, this tutor would be teaching me a whole new disciplined lifestyle. The idea was to make me over into a whole new person. My aunt would be using her connections to get me a whole new identity.
As the plane landed at Long Island, I really began to feel safe and secure for the first time in quite a while. The flight arrived in the early morning hours. Getting off the plane and entering the terminal I looked around and saw a woman holding a sign with the name "Vivian Baker" written on it. No question about that one. Baker was Aunt Missy's last name. She rarely let people use her nickname however, and preferred Melissa.
A weird exchange indeed, but according to Ms. Robbins, needed to throw anyone at the airport off. I followed these ladies to the limousine and was helped into the back, which was occupied. The rear seats faced each other, and seated on one was a lady who introduced herself as Dr. Hoffman. The other lady, with her seat facing forward was Ms. Robbins. Both were attractive, like Abigail and Madame Celia, well-dressed, and heavily perfumed. There was no partition between the front and back as there was in some limousines.
"Welcome, Vivian," said Ms. Robbins, "why don't you relax and permit Dr. Hoffman to examine you. We're concerned about the possibility of drug withdrawal." Though I wanted to explain to her I'd appreciate the use of my real name, I didn't have the time as the doctor, seated next to me, began to check my pulse, blood pressure, heart rate, look in my eyes with a light, and anything else she felt like doing.
"Hmmph, said the doctor, "I think we should give her a mild injection," as she readied the needle and syringe. "She's experiencing the early stages of withdrawal onset, right now."
Again, I wanted to protest the use of the "her" to describe me, but hadn't the time, as she rolled up my sleeve, saying, "Ms. Robbins, why don't you hold Miss Vivian steady. We don't want to hurt our little princess due to the motion of the vehicle."
Ms. Robbins did more than hold me steady, she seized me by the arms at my shoulders! As the fluid went in my arm, I felt a slight prick, but no pain at all. Instead I experienced a calm feeling of well being, and relaxed. I lay back for a moment and then looked at both the ladies, and smiled. Ms. Robbins was pouring a drink into a small glass, from a tumbler.
"Have some of this Vivian, she said." As I went to reach for the glass, I realized I was so relaxed, I couldn't move a muscle. Nothing. My body was like a limp rag doll.
"I can't reach it, Ms. Robbins," I whimpered.
"Poor dear. We'll have to help her, won't we, doctor?" she asked, amused. The doctor held my head still, as Ms. Robbins carefully put the glass to my lips. "Sip daintily, Vivian dear. You're a sweet little girl now. We want your new mummy to be proud of you, when she finally sees you."
I sipped obediently, realizing fully I was helpless. The constant references to me in the feminine were still troubling, but I was sure they would soon explain. I was already fairly certain that my new lifestyle and identity wasn't going to include much of a masculine atmosphere. How far these ladies intended to feminize me was yet to be seen.
"By the way Madame Celia, she is in a terrible need of a bath," the doctor called to the front.
"Yes doctor, I know. She'll be bathed, scrubbed for that matter, in bath salts and gel, with lots of pretty bubbles. Sweet smelling bubbles of course. Once we've dried her, Polly and I will lotion, powder and perfume her, quite heavily. She'll smell like a heavenly field of flowers. Wait until you meet Polly, my angel. Your mummy has hired you quite a pretty personal maid," Madame added, reaching back to pat me on the shoulder.
Finally, Ms. Robbins asked Dr. Hoffman, "Do you think we should tell our fair young lady, what's in store for her?" The doctor nodded and both these ladies alternated, telling me how Aunt Melissa intended to pull off my identity change. She intended to pose me as her new, adopted, 14-year-old daughter! Not only would my supposed gender be changed, I would experience an age reduction of five years!
"Don't worry about a thing," Dr. Hoffman added, "You're not a bad size at all for a 14-year-old girl. In fact, we may have to plump you up a little. She looks to be five six, maybe 125, wouldn't you say Ms. Robbins? Also dear, you have no fear of a sex change. I wouldn't do that unless you requested it," she said in a matter of fact fashion.
Though I was near fainting, I held off, closing my eyes, hoping it was a bad dream. It wasn't however. The three-hour or so ride to the upper part of the state seemed to take forever. During the ride, they filled me in further on the fate that awaited me.
Ms. Robbins began, "That sweet-tasting syrupy drink we gave you was a tranquilizer. We realize, of course, we can't keep you drugged and tranquil forever. We also realize that Madame's punishments won't work forever either. So, it will be up to you to cooperate with your transformation."
"Why would I do that?" I asked dreamily, still rebelling slightly.
"Because, you don't have a choice. Not only are the drug dealers after you, so are the police. I checked," the attorney said smiling. "You won't last two days on the streets. Either jail, where you'll become some big hulk's girlfriend, or you'll wind up shot by your dealer friends," she added for effect.
"Okay. What are you offering me?" I asked, my eyes tearing up.
As she wiped them with a scented tissue, Dr. Hoffman interjected, "A life in the lap of luxury. You'll be raised as the pampered, adopted daughter, of a very wealthy woman. You'll have your own maid to wait on you, a governess to privately educate you. You will have the best couteriers to make your clothing, the best cosmetologists to pamper and beautify you. You'll want for nothing and you'll inherit everything.
"No one will suspect a thing. All Ms. Robbins has to do is make a few phone calls, grease the right palms, and on paper you'll become Ms. Baker's foster daughter, eligible for adoption in six months. We even have a brief biography made up for you for the past 14 years," she closed as Ms. Robbins picked it up.
"The police and the dealers are looking for a 19-year-old male, not a 14-year-old female. Trust me, we can pull it off. If you're not sold in 90 days, tell us. You'll be given a limited access to your trust fund. Enough to give you a start. Also a fake passport, and a ticket to wherever you desire. No strings attached," the attorney stated firmly. "That will of course be the last help you'll get from Ms. Baker," the lawyer added ominously.
I thought about it and finally said, "Okay, for 90 days I'll give it a shot.
"Excellent," Dr. Hoffman said, "Your lifestyle will appear unusual, but trust me, it will grow on you."
Leaning over to me, and whispering in my ear, Ms. Robbins added, "Arrangements will also be made, privately of course, for occasional female companionship. This is between you and I. Repeat this, and it will never happen." Strangely enough, she rubbed my leg affectionately as she said this.
When we finally did arrive at the mansion, I was still too drugged to walk. Polly, my maid, came to the limousine with a wheelchair. I was carefully helped in to it. "She'll be living downstairs, while she convalesces," Madame Celia told Polly, adding, "Vivian is in dire need of a thorough bathing and scenting, Polly. Let's get started."
We made our way through the huge and very lovely downstairs to my bedroom. It had to be one of the most girlishly decorated rooms I had ever seen. I grew to think of it as the "Little Princess Room."
Everywhere, there were pinks, whites and baby blues. A huge canopied bed, a settee, and a dressing platform. The platform stood in front of a full-length mirror, and was beneath a lacing bar for my figure training. Mirrors were everywhere in fact. All the framed photos, portraits, paintings and prints were of elegantly attired and dramatically coifed ladies, with full beautiful make up.
I also had a full vanity with bench and a professional hair dryer with its own seat. Several dressers, a full walk-in closet, all nearly overflowing with apparel. A large bathroom, with attached sauna, a sitting room, and a massage table completed this gorgeous suite. Too bad I would occupy it as a female, I thought to myself.
A rubber sheet was placed on my bed and I was helped up to it by Madame and Polly. I was stripped of my clothes and placed back in the wheelchair. Then we moved towards the bathroom. We waited at the doorway as Polly ran the steamy water and mixed in the bath salts, bath gel and bubble bath. Madame turned to Dr. Hoffman and asked, "If we don't have to give her any more shots, when will she be able to walk on her own?"
"Well, I'll stay here for the weekend, unless I'm called out. We could probably just keep her tranquil, no narcotics." Looking at her watch she said, "Let's see, it's noon Friday. We could tranquilize her for 24 more hours. If we stop the shots with the one we gave her in the car, she should be able to come to breakfast, fully on her own power. She could even walk to supper with someone at her side," she answered expertly.
In short order, I was lowered in the tub. The hot, perfumed water was very comforting. Polly put on a rubber apron and got to work. Her first order of business was to give me a complete body shave. As she worked on me expertly, Madame moved me around for the maid's convenience.
The doctor watched and then said to Madame, "I hadn't thought about it, but the bath may reduce the effect of the injection I gave her. She may walk even better at supper. It will depend on her ability to walk in heels and the size heel you put her in." Looking at her watch she added, "I'm going to find Ms. Robbins and Miss Melissa. Beep me if you should need me. I doubt you will though. I believe Vivian is going to behave. Aren't you, Vivian?"
I'm not sure why, maybe it was the way she looked at me. Maybe it was the ministrations of Polly, possibly it was the warm scented perfumed bath. For some reason though, I felt safer and more secure then I'd been in months, so I said, "Yes ma'am, I'll behave. I'll be a real good little girl." When the words came out, no one including me expected such a sweet submissive response. It was a foreboding of things to come.
I was thoroughly scrubbed, shampooed and conditioned. Once out of the tub I was helped to a massage table and dried off with fluffy towels, powdered, rubbed down with lotion and heavily perfumed with a little girl scent called Tinker Belle. Then I was helped to a chair in front of the vanity.
"I'm going to cut and shape your hair and set it," said Polly, "Then Ma'amselle Celia and I will serve you a light lunch and dress you for bed. You'll be wakened for supper with your new mother. It will be served in her sitting room so your bed clothes will be appropriate. The same will be done for breakfast tomorrow morning. Following that, get ready for some serious figure training and charm lessons," she said ominously.
After my light lunch of soup and salad, I was dressed in ruffled sissy panties and a cute baby dress. I was given a little French poodle stuff toy, named Fifi, and helped into bed.
Finally I was kissed on the cheek by both Polly and Ma'amselle, and told to curl up in the fetal position, put my thumb in my mouth and "Go to sleepy bye." I was very soon off to sleep, hugging Fifi. When I finally awoke, I realized it was the most peaceful sleep I had experienced since I was a child.
I was given a dainty pink bed jacket to wear over my baby dress, and a pair of white anklet socks with black patent-leather Mary Janes were placed on my feet. My scented scarf was removed from my head, and a stretch turban, pink in color to match the dress and jacket was put in its place. The turban had a ribbon in the front that when pulled, drew it quite tight about my head. Once Polly had pulled it sufficiently tight, she tied the ribbon in a big bow.
She now pronounced me "perfectly prissy enough" to have dinner in mummy's sitting room. Polly assisted me to the sitting room. Just outside the door, she had me stop and practice a few curtseys. I grabbed the hem of my pink ruffled baby dress with one hand, dipped into a sweet curtsey, and held the other in the air, fingers spread and wrist ever so daintily limp. "Hello mummy Melissa, it's so nice to see you," I stated.
I had to wait outside the doorway after the uniformed maid knocked and entered. I should say at this point that Polly was now wearing a beautifully decorated pink satin English maids outfit, complete with lacy cap with darling ribbon streamers attached to the cap, falling midway down her back.
Before entering the room, I waited for Polly to say, "Madame Melissa, your new foster child and future daughter, Sissy Missy Vivian Baker would love to dine with you." I proceeded into the room, and did my curtsey and said my practiced line, as Mummy Melissa came forward and smothered me with hugs and kisses. She held me at arms-length to look at me and then proceed to take me over to the dining area of her sitting room.
"Polly, could you assist me in lifting my precious angel to her seat of honor?" In one motion she and Polly lifted me to a comfortable, straight backed seat off to the side of what appeared to be a sort of breakfast bar. Seated there I could eat and still be more or less on display, so to speak. Mirrors were located around and near me, so whenever I might look away from my food or whomever I was talking to I would see my ultra-feminine reflection.
The entire house, or at least the areas where I lived, ate, went to classes, was given beauty treatments, or where I took exercise was identically set up. I would be surrounded by these ultra-feminine impulses for quite some time.
In fact, the hair salon, where I would be made over on several occasions, had a special section for sissies like myself. All the chairs in this section were similar to this, and there were mirrors everywhere. Of course, what would one expect from a salon called Pamela's Palace of Perfection?
"Now, Polly, why don't you retrieve the dinner cart, and you may serve us. By the way, is Abigail seeing to dinner for Lucinda (Ms. Robbins) and Irene (Dr. Hoffman)?" she asked charmingly.
"Yes ma'am. Both she and Ma'amselle Celia are caring for our weekend guests. I'll get Madame and Vivian's dinner presently, miss," said Polly, dipping into a curtsey and leaving.
"Well Vivian, if you'd like to wait for your adoption to be legal, before calling me mummy, you may use the formal British/French term, and refer to me as T'ante Melissa. You and I are really going to have lots of wonderful times and a very lovely life together. Let me tell you of some of the absolutely dreamy and darling plans I have for us, my dear."
Saying this, she launched into a vivid and thorough description of how she expected things to be, with me as her future heiress.
Her discourse lasted throughout the dinner and into the late evening, just prior to my bedtime. I listened intently, never daring to interrupt. I answered her questions when she asked them and only dared asked my own, when she would pause and check for my reaction.
"Darling Vivian, we are going to have a glorious time!" she said excitedly as we began to eat. "We'll have luncheons with my friends where I'll show you off! My social set prefers 'special' young ladies like yourself. We sometimes have friendly, little competitions where we see whose girl is most feminine. You'll enjoy it," she smiled.
She went on to say, "In addition we'll go shopping together for pretty clothes, and go to fashion shows at my club. We'll even have our hair done together at a wonderful beauty shop that welcomes dainty children like my Vivian." She seemed thrilled.
"Of course you'll need lots of training and I promise to never interfere with Ma'amselle Celia in your training regimen or discipline. What do you think so far precious?" She asked with a big smile.
"I just love everything, T'ante Missy. I was wondering however, will I always be wearing such babyish attire? I had thought I was supposed to be appearing to be around 14." I appealed to her sweetly.
"Of course not, you little silly! I requested that you be dressed as a little baby Nancy at bedtime for a short while. Possibly a bit like a 10-year-old for a few days. As soon as you begin to master high heels, we'll step up your age. Before you know it you'll have a sweet sixteen party and a suitor." She glanced at me for my reaction.
She continued by asking, "As far as your suitor or suitors go, do you prefer males, females or both? Don't worry, you'll not be forced and anything can be arranged,' she said very candidly.
My eyes opened quite wide as I said, "Please T'ante Melissa, I prefer ladies."
"I thought that may be the case. Good. Then it's settled. Time for bed now. I'll ring for Polly," she said as she went to the doorbell in hand. Before leaving, I kissed her goodnight, and Polly as well, as I went to bed. Polly gave me a few small sips of the syrupy draught before tucking me in. I literally slept like a baby, thumb in mouth, holding a Barbie doll, my feet and legs tucked in the same fetal position.
Again I awoke refreshed, to Polly opening the curtains, and Ma'amselle Celia choosing my attire for the day. "You'll be eating in your aunt's room again this morning. You will of course put on some lipstick, just to please her," Mme. Celia stated as she propelled me towards the vanity.
She set next to me and applied her own, having me try mine. By the third try, she pronounced my job "adequate" and I went off to breakfast. Things went fine. Before I left to return to my room to be dressed for the day, Aunt Melissa asked me how I liked Polly's uniform of the night before. She seemed pleased when I said I loved it.
TO BE CONTINUED
Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)
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