Welcome to the Crew

Her Feminine Will--Part One

CHAPTER ONE

The phone rang in Vera Demanden’s office. She answered it to find her assistant, Colleen Cuntrol, on the line. “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Demanden, but we’re having a problem with the new client that I think only you can properly handle.” “Of course, Colleen, I’ll be right down,” Vera replied. She stood and slipped on her six-inch stilettoes and strode to the treatment room in Vera Demanden’s Tranny Training School. Entering, she saw Colleen standing over a slender young man, about 20, naked except for a matching bra and panties and strapped into a chair.

“Everything was going well, Ms. Demanden,” Colleen explained, “until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Then he started fighting our attempts to further his feminization and we finally had to wrestle him into the chair and restrain him.

Vera picked up the file. “Hmmm, Darren Rogers, enrolled by his fiancée, Elaine Winchester, to be fully feminized into a submissive plaything and helpmeet, in time for their wedding in two months. Darren signed the necessary papers agreeing to the process.” She turned her attention to the man. “Darren, your bride-to-be desires a bride of her own to accompany her at the altar. We are contracted to remake you into that bride. We will accomplish that goal.”

Darren stared at the dominant woman. “I’ve…I’ve changed my mind,” he stammered. “I renounce my signature on those papers. Now, let me out of here!” He strained against the bonds holding him to the chair.

“Sorry, Darren, it doesn’t work that way. The papers you signed gave Elaine full power-of-attorney. She makes all the decisions, now,” Vera explained. She gestured to Colleen to bring a chair over, so she could face the bound man on eye level. “You have now made it necessary for us to use a more drastic method to produce the desired results. Colleen, employ the straps that will hold his head steady.”

Colleen wrapped a strap around his head and secured it to the chair, making it impossible for Darren to look anywhere but straight ahead. “Now, the eyedrops—we don’t want him trying to close his eyes, either.”

“Look into my eyes, Darren…look deep into my eyes…sink into them, fall into them,” Vera began. “You cannot resist the power of my eyes, you cannot resist the power of my words. You are drawn to my eyes and my words. Surrender to them. Surrender.

“My will is stronger than yours. My will is a feminine will, and a feminine will is always more powerful than yours. Surrender your masculine will to my feminine will. Submit to my all-powerful feminine will, and let my mind control you. My mind controls and you obey.

“My mind controls and you obey. My mind controls and you obey.”

Darren could not resist her hypnotic power. “Your mind controls and I obey,’ he murmured. “Your mind controls and I obey.” He continued repeating it as Vera motioned to Colleen to release the restraints on the chair.

“Darren, you will obey these women as you would me,” Vera instructed and then turned to leave. “He won’t give you any more trouble. Go on with the preliminary alterations. Bring him to my office when he’s ready.”

For the next several hours Colleen and the staff did their work, escorting him to the on-site salon, where technicians and beauticians skilled in modeling masculine faces into feminine beauty, waxed his eyebrows, closely shaved his chin, and used cosmetics to bring out the girl from his boyish face.

Darren received a full-body wax, leaving him hairless from below his eyebrows to the tips of his toes. Then they treated his skin with lotions and creams so that he was not only smooth, but soft. They laced him into a tight corset, attaching realistic faux breasts to his chest, strapping his sissy-cock and balls into a restraint that kept his crotch smooth and without bulges. They rolled sheer stockings up his legs and attached them to the garters on his corset.

They chose a red cocktail dress for his first all-femme attire, one that clung to his new curves and revealed his very sexy legs to mid-thigh. They slipped sandals onto his feet and locked them in place. Then they put him back into a chair and fitted a long blonde wig to him. He was ready for his first presentation.

They escorted him to Vera Demanden’s office and ordered him to knock politely. He complied and Vera called “Enter.” Darren walked in cautiously on his five-inch heels, the tightness of his dress restricting his stride. “Stop there,” Vera said, when he was a few feet in front of her desk. Still deep in trance, Darren could only obey and stand, mannequin-like, as she walked around him, examining him, and even occasionally stroking his body.

“Very good for a first time,” Vera pronounced. “I can see Elaine chose well in selecting her future sissy spouse.” She stopped and looked him in the eyes. “Darren, your real training begins tomorrow. But, for now, you will return to the waking world when I snap my fingers, and go back into trance when I say Darren obeys. Do you understand?”

“Your mind controls and I obey,” he responded.

“Good girl,” Vera said, and snapped her fingers. SNAP!!

The glazed look in Darren’s eyes faded and he momentarily stumbled in his heels. “What the hell…?” he began, only to be stopped by Vera’s hand slapping his face.

“Your first lesson in proper sissy behavior, Darren. Sissies do not use such profane language and never raise their voices to women. Remember that—your next punishment will be far more severe than a slap in the face.” She pushed a button on her desk and a moment later Colleen and her staff entered. “Take Darren to his sissy quarters for the night. See that he prepares himself properly for bed.” She stopped for a moment and said, “That reminds me—we must ask Elaine what his new name is to be: We can’t keep calling such a lovely creature ‘Darren’.”

CHAPTER TWO

Colleen Cuntrol and her team led Darren to his new room. They entered and he saw what had to be absolutely the most feminine place he could imagine. It was all decorated in shades of pink with lace edgings on everything. There was an enormous canopy bed with satin sheets and a vanity covered with cosmetics and creams.

“Strip, Darren,” Colleen ordered. Though no longer in trance, Darren was still under the influence of Vera’s hypnotic suggestions. Deep in his mind, he heard her voice, “My mind controls…” and he said aloud, “…and I obey.” He immediately removed all his clothes, and stood before the feminizing dominatrices in the nude.

“Sit at the vanity,” was the next command, and when he was seated, they proceeded to remove his wig and all his makeup. They completed the process with a light coating of night cream. Colleen opened the bureau and took out a baby-doll nightie. “Put this on.” He took the sheer pink item from her. First he pulled the teeny thong over his sissy-cock , then he let the top settle over his tits and body.

“You will sleep in clothing of this kind from now on,” Colleen advised him. “You will find a different one laid out in your room each evening. Similarly, when you awaken each morning, your attire for the day will be already chosen. Either I or a member of my team will assist you in dressing.

“For now, it is time for bed.” Darren went to the luxurious bed and lay down. Colleen turned out the lights. “Nighty-night, dear.” Simultaneously, speakers hidden in the bed went to work, repeating the hypnotic induction Vera had used earlier:

““My will is stronger than yours. My will is a feminine will, and a feminine will is always more powerful than yours. Surrender your masculine will to my feminine will. Submit to my all-powerful feminine will, and let my mind control you. My mind controls and you obey.

“My mind controls and you obey. My mind controls and you obey.”

In short order, Darren was drifting to sleep, murmuring his mantra: “Your mind controls and I obey…your mind controls and I obey….”

The next morning, Colleen entered the room, walked up to the bed and snapped her fingers. SNAP!! Instantly, Darren awoke, but still under the influence of the suggestions of submission. Colleen led him to the vanity and did his makeup, then dressed him in the corset, black lace panties and bra, and fishnet stockings. On his feet went a pair of black patent pumps with four-inch heels. His wig today was a black pageboy bob. The final touch was an eight-inch chain between his ankles.

Dressed that way—and in nothing else—Colleen took him to breakfast in the cafeteria, where Darren discovered all the “clients” were similarly clad. He was given a light breakfast of toast and coffee (“Have to watch our figure,” Colleen said). Once fed, she took him to the gymnasium.

There, he was placed on the treadmill, his arms strapped to the machine. Colleen turned it on at a slow speed and explained. “Every day of your first two weeks here, you will practice on the treadmill, in a variety of shoe styles—mary-janes with three-inch block heels, platforms, even mules with a seven-inch heel. Eventually, you will be able to walk gracefully and girlishly in any shoe or heel height.”

Darren began his exercise, restrained by the chained ankles. Every ten minutes, Colleen would increase the speed of the machine, until after an hour, Darren was moving at a very quick walk. If he stumbled, she reduced the speed and then gradually increased it again. “You’ll stay on the treadmill until you can manage the highest speed without a problem,” Colleen told him. It took a full two hours, but he eventually was able to maintain poise and balance at the highest speed she set.

When that was accomplished, she released him from the treadmill and brought him back to his own room. On the bed, the rest of his outfit for the day was laid out—a French maid’s uniform, in black satin, with four or five layers of frilly petticoats under the skirt, a crisp white apron, and a lacy cap in his hair. Legs still restrained, he followed her to Vera Demanden’s office.

“I’m leaving you here on your own, for now,” Colleen said, as she knocked on the door. Darren stood, not sure what would happen now.

“Enter,” came a voice from within, and he opened the door and minced inside. Vera sat on the edge of her desk and surveyed her latest client. “Ah, yes, Elaine did ask that you receive some maid training,” she said. “But that will never do as an entrance for a maid.” She walked directly up to him, looked him in the eyes and said, “Darren obeys….” Darren’s eyes glazed over as he fell into trance. “Your mind controls and I obey,” he murmured.

“Good girl! And from now on whenever you are praised with that phrase, you will feel a wave of sexual pleasure wash over you,” Vera told him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I understand,” he replied.
“Good girl! Now, when a maid enters a room she should curtsey. Do you know how to curtsey?”

Even as the wave of pleasure hit him, Darren responded, “No, Ma’am, I have no idea.”

“Then we had better teach you,” Vera said. “But we’ll need to unchain your ankles first.” She produced a key, and unlocked the cuffs from his legs. “Now then, place your left foot behind your right foot. Good girl! Now, take the hem of your skirt and pettis in your hands and spread them wide. Then bend both knees until you almost touch the floor, then rise slowly.”

A little hesitantly and shakily, Darren followed instructions. He stumbled a bit returning to an upright posture. “Well, that was all the right moves, but a bit awkward,” Vera criticized. “You must do it gracefully! Do it again…and keep doing it until I say to stop.”

So, Darren began curtseying over and over, each time a bit better. Vera went back to her desk and began looking over files, occasionally glancing up to see how he was doing. She smiled at his improving attempts, but let him continue practicing. After an hour, he finally collapsed to the floor, exhausted. “Those last three or four curtseys were actually quite graceful,” she said. “Good girl!” And the pleasure brought a wide, dreamy smile to his face, and a gasp of surprise.

Vera stood, offered her hand and assisted him to rise. “Now, leave the room and come back in as you have been taught.” Darren turned and minced from the room. He knocked and Vera called, “Enter.” He gracefully took a few steps in, stopped and made a low curtsey, keeping his face up and staring with abject adoration at his hypnotic tutor. “Good girl, good girl, good girl!” she exclaimed.

Darren’s knees gave way as the sexual pleasure flooded over him, more than he could endure. Vera smiled again. After only two days, he was well on his way to a new, feminine life.

Archelle: If I Only Had a Brain

Dani the Maid

Continuing the series on my various fictional personas:

Dani Sissy Maid curtseys to her Mistress Lola Venus before beginning her daily duties.

Sissy Cheer Team

Hypno-Session: Shoe Shopping Spree

Following up on our mental trip to the mall last time, Mistress Lola took me on a search for sexy and sissy shoes this week. Here's an example of what we came home with:

The trance-script is here.

Big Sister's Mistake

Teasing May Be Good

Mind-Melter

Archelle: Exciting Times Ahead

Bubbles Redux

Bubbles in her itsy bitsy bikini...with its usual result: a girlish trance and a hard sissy-cock

Three in the Park

Fit to Be Tied

No Truth to Tell

Brainwash

Weekend Away

Archelle: Mash Note

Bubbles the Bimbo

Continuing to post images of the characters in my stories, my art, and my sessions with Mistress Lola.

Bubbles is the blonde, busty, empty-headed bimbo I turn into when Mistress Lola intones a certain trigger (and no, I'm not posting it here). The interesting thing is that I never remember what happens when I become Bubbles...at least, not until Mistress Lola sends me the trance-script of our session. (And one time, not even then, because she deleted that part before sending it!)

Revealing Video

Hypno-Session: Wigging Out

In this week's meeting with Mistress Lola, I went through a new way to conjure up my four alter egos: Dani, Bubbles, Dolly, and Little Dani Dot.

The trance-script is here.

Full-Fledged Sissy

You Like?

Liking How We Look

Hannah McKnight answers the question: "When did you start liking how you look as a girl?"

The first time I was completely en femme, which was about ten years ago, I was enraptured. I didn’t look like a man in a dress and a wig, I was unrecognizable. At least that’s how I thought and how I felt. Of all the things I was thinking in those first moments I think the thing that was the loudest was that I could see something I could work with, if you will. I was on cloud nine the whole evening.

So many small things impact how we feel about ourselves and when I am en femme I am filled with many small things. My forms, my pads, my outfit, accessories, makeup, hair, my body shape… It all needs to come together. It’s like baking a cake, I suppose. If you don’t have the right ingredients it’s just not going to work.

AND! Sometimes everything can go right but sometimes we just don’t feel it. We might look cute, but we don’t feel that way. How we feel will win out (for good and for bad) EVERY SINGLE TIME. I have dresses that I feel are just kind of… meh but if I am in the right mood it becomes the cutest dress in the world. Of course the opposite is true, too.

So, to answer your question, I more or less liked how I looked right away, but that doesn’t mean I always like how I look. I still have plenty of times where I feel I look like a man in a wig.

Archelle: Biggest Bimbo

Vera Demanden

Continuing the portraits of my characters:

Ms. Vera Demanden, mistress of a household of feminized males, and leader of a neighborhood of like-minded mothers, wives, sisters, aunts and fiancees. Her preferred technique is psychological, instilling an intense desire for submission and humiliation in her subjects

You Know the Rules

Sissy Wedding Vows

Time and Money Well-Spent

Panty Humiliations

Dealing With the Unknowns

Hannah McKnight discusses what she calls "The Lying, the What-Ifs, and the Wardrobe":

When I was fifteen and when I wore my panties I was as nervous as I could be that someone would see the lacy detail poking out of the top of my jeans. When I wasn’t wearing them I was scared to death my mom would find them. Basically I was a wreck all the time. But this is a good example of choosing to live with the fear of being caught as opposed to the stress that denying who I am brings.

I had spent so much money over the years buying lingerie, purging, and then buying new lingerie. I was tired of that. I was tired of tossing out beautiful bras and panties. I was tired of pretending that I could stop. Acceptance leads to more “what ifs”, however. Just as our thought process starts with “what if I see someone I know” to “what if they see me and tells everyone about me” to “what if everyone in my life thinks I’m a freak”, my thought process started to turn to “what will happen were I to die and my family found my lingerie and heels while they were attending to my belongings?”.

It’s not a comfortable topic and it sounds a little morbid but many of us think about what our family will think were they to find out about this side of us after we die.

But when we pass on, our family may find a beautiful wardrobe… and a lot of unanswered questions.

I wanted to, as best as I could, explain who I am… FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE. Again, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I am trying to keep this as light as I can. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I wrote a letter.

I tossed the letter, along with my lingerie, on my next, and what would be my final purge. I still think about the “what ifs”. But that’s just who I am, even outside of this side of me. As I get older I think more about the future and making plans. Plans for retirement, plans for my passing.

I can have all the contingency plans (if you will) that you can imagine, but if I die suddenly I know my wife is going to inherit a huge wardrobe. My wife and I have very few similar tastes when it comes to clothes and she’s going to need an evening gown or a PVC dress so it’s not like her wardrobe is going to expand in a way that she’ll necessarily benefit from. I do wonder what will happen to… everything. I suppose the easiest thing would be for her to simply donate what could be donated. I’m sure some nonprofit charity would be thrilled to receive a leather minidress.

Archelle: Double the Fun