Cross-D-R: The Sissy Ranch, part one

SPEND A WEEK AS THE GIRL YOU WANT TO BE!

Welcome to the Cross-D-R Ranch, where men can be women all the time. Located in an isolated part of the American West, you can be the wife, sister, lover, sissy, bimbo, or whatever sort of woman you desire!

FOR MORE INFORMATION, GO TO WWW.SISSYRANCH.COM

Richard was fascinated by the ad. He sat on his bed in his pretty pink nightie, staring at it on his laptop screen. Pictures showed cross-dressed men..and some real women…in Western gear, enjoying horseback rides and square dances. It was clear they were all having a great time. There were even shots of people clearly having more intimate encounters—though it was difficult to tell at the time if either of the participants was a real woman or not.

He clicked further and found the information about services and length of stay. Although a week was the minimum, it was also possible to spend as much as an entire season at Cross-D-R. The prices were reasonable…and Richard made a reservation to begin in a month.

Once his payment was accepted, Richard received this e-mail:

Dear Richard:

Thank you for your reservation; we look forward to seeing you at the Cross-D-R Ranch.

On the morning of your trip, you will be picked up by a limousine, which will drive you to the airport to meet the chartered jet that will fly you to the landing field on our property. Pack only what you will need for the flight out and return as we will provide all other clothing for your stay. On the attached form, please list your sizes and measurements.

If you wish, you may fly in girl mode, although many of our guests prefer to reserve their feminization until they are in the skilled hands of our experts. You should, however, choose a feminine name—first and last—before boarding the flight. You can list that on the form as well.

You have chosen the two-week package, but you may extend that to whatever length you wish once you are here. Many guests do.

See you in 30 days,
Mrs. Vera Demanden

Richard contemplated what he would like to be called if he were a girl. Rikki? Rachel? Rochelle? Well, maybe not something related to his male name. Something a little sexy and daring—how about Honeypie? Yes! That was it—he put Honeypie on the form and then proceeded to fill in his sizes and measurements. He hit send and now his reservation was really complete.

A month later, a small tote bag at his side, he waited on his porch for his ride. A long black town car pulled up and a gorgeous woman got out. She was tall and voluptuous and clad in a skin-tight leather suit with a chauffeur’s cap. “Miss Honeypie?” she asked. When Richard nodded, she held open the passenger door and he got in.

She drove to the private side of the airport, right up to the side of a small jet with the logo of Cross-D-R Ranch on the side. Richard went to grab his bag, but the chauffeur took it instead. She gestured to the steps of the plane and he climbed up into the cabin. And equally beautiful woman met him at the top, dressed in a pastel pink air attendant’s uniform—tightly fitted, low-cut, mini-skirted, with six-inch heels. She escorted him to a seat, offered him a drink, and then informed the pilot they were ready.

The windows of the plane were darkened, so Richard had no idea of the terrain they flew over. “I guess they really want to keep the location of the ranch a secret,” he realized. After a four-hour flight, the plane began to descend over some low hills and then landed on a private air strip. The only buildings—or sign of civilization, even—were the ranch buildings at the edge of the strip and the sign that said “Welcome to Cross-D-R Ranch! No males allowed!”

A very attractive woman in cowboy gear approached and said, “Miss Honeypie?” When Richard acknowledged her, she said, “I’m Carla. It’s my job to prepare all our guests to enter the ranch. Follow me, please.” Richard followed her, enjoying the sensuous flow of her ass and hips in the tight jeans. She led him into a small room with an attached bathroom. “Remove all your male attire and place it in the hamper,” she instructed. “Then take a shower with this special soap.” She handed him a tube. “I’ll be waiting when you’re done.”

Richard took the tube of soap and followed directions. As the water cascaded over his body, he saw that every strand of hair below his face washed away with it, including his chest, his legs, and even his armpits and pubic hair. He stepped out of the shower pink and smooth and very girlish.

< Carla applauded on his reappearance. “Very pretty, Honeypie!” she exclaimed. “Now, come sit here for the next step.” He sat in a salon chair as Carla produced another tube, squeezed some into her hands and applied it to his chin, cheeks and upper lip. She then took a wet towel and gently wiped. When she was done, Richard ran his hands over his face—it was smoother than he ever could have imagined. “That will last until your two-week stay with us is over…or, if you choose to extend your stay, we can do it again.”

Carla beckoned again. “Follow me…” She led him to a room filled with all manner of feminine clothes, all in Western styles. She started with a corset, reshaping his waist and hips. Then came a bra, well-stuffed to the dimensions Richard had outlined in his application form—35-C. Stockings were next, sheer ones that clipped to the garter straps of his corset. Petticoats followed—layers and layers of them—and then a full-skirted red dress with a scoop neck. The last touch was a pair of t-strap pumps in white.

Richard looked down at his new attire in wonder. “There’s a square dance tonight to welcome all you newcomers, Honeypie,” Carla explained. “I wanted you to be ready for it.” She motioned for him to follow again. “This last stage in your orientation may seem a bit strange, but we have discovered it’s the best way to get you acclimated.

” She led him into a room with a single chair facing a large video screen. “Have a seat,” she said and as Richard sat, a series of bindings activated, holding him firmly to the chair. “It’s very important that you pay strict attention to the screen,” Carla explained. Still, Richard struggled until it was clear the bonds were too tight and too strong for him to escape. Carla left the room and it went dark. Richard was sure he smelled a sweet, almost intoxicating scent fill the space. The video screen lit up and a beautiful middle-aged woman appeared.

“Welcome,” she said. “I am Vera Demanden, owner and manager of the ranch. You are now undergoing the most important part of our orientation. When you are released from this room, you will think, move, and speak like a convincing woman…and you will be completely submissive to anyone who wears a badge indicating they are part of the ranch staff.

“You see, we know that all the men who apply to come here are, at heart, sissies—men who wish to be subjected to feminization and become lovers, servants, even slaves to dominant women like us. Already, you should feel your masculine will fading away, to be replaced by the intense desire to be a lovely piece of feminine charm on the arm of your mistress.

“The longer you remain with us, the deeper this desire will grow. Some sissies decide never to leave, and become part of our more menial staff—the maids and waitresses. Some fall in love with one of the mistresses here and become a permanent part of her household.

“For now, just sit and absorb the lessons about the new life you are about to embark upon….”

Richard felt his mind go blank and then be filled with the information coming from the screen. Oddly, he felt happy and content as it happened, no longer concerned by the strange turn his visit had taken. After a time—he had no idea how long it was—he realized the bonds were gone and his mind was different. “How are you feeling, Honeypie?”

At the sound of Carla’s voice, Honeypie (yes, that’s who I am, he realized) smiled and turned to her. “I am happy and ready to serve, Mistress Carla,” he answered.

Carla wheeled a mirror before him. “While you were being…educated…we took the opportunity to complete your transformation. Stand and see the new you.” Honeypie stood and stared. His face had been thoroughly feminized with cosmetics and he wore a dark curly wig. He was still in the square dance outfit and he twisted and twirled to feel the petticoats and skirts rustle against his nylon-clad thighs.

“I’m beautiful!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, beautiful, sexy, submissive….all the things a sissy at Cross-D-R Ranch should and must be,” Carla agreed. “The dance is just beginning…come join your sister sissies and the mistresses for a night of fun!”

Honeypie followed Carla to the barn where the square dance was in full swing. She introduced Honeypie to one of the other dancers. “Mistress Astra, may I introduce Honeypie? She has just completed her orientation.” As if he knew exactly what to do, Honeypie did a deep curtsey. Astra extended her hand for a kiss. “It’s always nice to meet one of the new girls,” she said, “especially one as lovely as this. Tell me, Honeypie, have you square danced before?”

“No, Mistress,” he replied. “But I am willing to learn.”

“The perfect answer!” Astra said, beaming. She took him by the arm and led him to the floor. “Just follow the caller’s instructions and I’ll guide you if you don’t understand.” In a short time, Honeypie had the hang of it and was smiling and laughing with the others. But then came an unusual call:

“Submissives, thank your partners!”

Honeypie watched half the dancers sink to their knees, with their heads buried under the voluminous skirts of their counterparts. Soon the dancers left standing were moaning sensuously. “Well, Honeypie, don’t you know what to do?” Astra asked. Honeypie knelt and placed his head under her skirts and pettis, as she placed her hands on the back of his head and pressed him to her sex. He breathed deeply, recognizing the scent as the one that had mesmerized him during orientation….and he knew immediately what his role in this was to be.

He began to lick and suck her pussy and soon Astra was moaning along with all the other dominants. As she reached orgasm, Honeypie felt his own climax arrive and he filled his panties with the thick sticky stuff. A word came to his mnd: “cock-cream”. And with that, he reached into his panties, scooped up the ejaculate and brought it to his own lips. He looked around…every other sissy guest was doing the same.

They were all dutiful submissive muff-divers and cuntlickers.

TO BE CONTINUED

Archelle: Phone Reinforcement

The New Hires

Not Again?!

I have noticed in the past few weeks I have instances where I know I have been working on the computer...but when I finish I have no idea what it was I was doing--and can find no evidence of what I accomplished. I have suspected these are the "Bubbles" moments that Mistress Lola created in a hypno-session a month or so back.

Since I had one of those moments earlier this week--and another this morning--and just found Bubbles' latest contribution to the blog, I can only conclude my suspicions are correct. Further, from the text of today's entry, Bubbles clearly has a method to communicate with Mistress...one I know nothing about.

I should be worried...but I know, from reading the trance-script of that session, that Mistress Lola put a strong admonition in that nothing Bubbles does is to present a danger to me or my male self.

Bubbles Says Hi!

Hi everybody! I'm back .

Here's a picture of Dani in the skimpy bikini I nagged her to buy a few years ago...but I sorta played around with it. No, I didn't turn her into a bimbo like me (I've done that already); I made her look just like a pretty little sissy posing by the pool so everyone could see she's just a shameless little pansy boy-girl!

I asked Mistress Lola if I should post this and she said, "Absolutely!" So I did.

Hypno-Session: Dani Dot's "Coming of Age"

On Wednesday, I had yet another session of lovely sissy hypnosis with Mistress Lola, as she guided me through a shopping trip with my youthful alter ego into a new world of teen-age delights. The trance-script is here.

Ryan's First Sissy Date

Sissy's Ideal

Total Slut

Cross-dressing and "Beauty"

Hannah McKnight discusses the ways in which our self-criticism as cross-dressers is wrong.

There are parts of us that we don’t like when it comes to being in girl mode. Sometimes this can be hypocritical and unnecessarily hard on ourselves. For example, you may find a cis-girl with nicely toned, muscular arms attractive, but we cringe at our own nicely toned, muscular arms when we’re en femme. A tall cis-girl might be a goddess, but we might think that we ourselves are too tall to be femme. No girl, cis or trans, is too tall, too… ANYTHING to be femme. I doubt any of us looks at a cis-girl and thinks that she is too tall to be pretty, or too tall to wear stilettos.

Well…. yes, to SOME people it matters. Let’s face it, some people HATE transpeople and aren’t shy in showing it. If you spend time online reading the comments section of any news story about the transcommunity it’s easy to think that everyone in the world hates us and would prefer we simply not exist. But it’s a lot easier to type a mean comment than it is to say something to someone’s face. I have been out for years, YEARS, and have been to lingerie shops, cafes, restaurants, bookstores, malls, museums, gas stations, department stores, thrift shops, hotels, salons, and even churches. The negative experiences are shockingly low considering how many different places I have been and the number of people I have interacted with. Most encounters are uneventful, some are incredibly affirming, and yes, some people have been rude, but for the most part most people simply do not care that I am trans (at least to my face). What someone THINKS is irrelevant. I don’t know what they THINK of me, or what they might say to their co-worker after I leave, but that is none of my business. Besides I’ll never know.

It’s so easy to overthink this side of ourselves. We scrutinize and overanalyze everything about our gender identity and gender presentation. We think about what others will think about us. And it’s normal to do that, but really, how often do you think about the dozens of encounters you have with people everyday?...We overthink the outfit we wear and if we can pull it off. I used to think my shoulders were too broad to wear thin straps or halter tops but guess what! I was wrong. I look amazing in halter tops and so do you.

Wear what you want. Be who are you. Go where you please. No one is too anything to be a girl.

Archelle: Sissy Expectations

No Adult Males

Bubbles Leaks Out Again

Ever since my last session with Mistress Lola, my bimbo alter-ego has found it easier and easier to find her way to my conscious level--even as I lose control to her for short periods. The result is postings like the second one from yesterday...postings I have no awareness of until I see them on the blog. Bubbles has also clearly been able to access my knowledge and skill on a computer...to the point of deleting the things she does after posting them here. I will have to keep a closer eye on the blog from now on.

Bubbles Says Hi!

Hey, everybody!

I've broken out of my box again to give you a treat and Dani a surprise! I've figured out that I, like, can do all the same things she does in playing around with pictures on the computer! Isn't that neato?

Anyways, I came up with this little thing...or maybe not so little? It's a look at how Dani would be if I could, sorta, be in charge all the time. How about those jugs, huh?

Leave some comments, OK?

Sissies Don't Wear Red

Caught in the Act

 

Candy is Dandy, part two

After awakening, the siblings spent the day preparing for the return of their parents. Angel wanted to be sure everything was perfect before her mother arrived. They were in Candy’s room when they heard the front door open and a voice announce, “Children, we’re home!”

 

“You stay here until I call for you,” Angel told her sissified brother and went to greet them. She hurried down the stairs and then stopped short at the foot. There was her mother, in her usual traveling outfit of a low-cut tank top and tight jeans. But the real shock was her father. Though she had known for years about her parents’ unusual arrangement, they had always kept some of the details secret. Yes, her mother admitted that her father spent many evenings in feminine attire…and always when they went on “retreat”…this was the first time Angel had seen him in full sissy regalia.

 

His hair—his real hair, she wondered—was blonde and set in waves that fell to his shoulders, with a big black bow at his crown. He wore a black jumper dress over a white linen blouse, with another large black bow at the collar. The skirt of the dress floated over layers of white petticoats that revealed his legs at knee-level—legs that were sheathed in sheer black hose and perched on white pumps with five-inch heels. “Daddy?” Angel began.

 

“There’s no need to call him that anymore,” her mother interrupted. “Call him by his proper name—Missy.” She looked at her husband. “Go greet your daughter properly, Missy.” He minced forward and curtseyed to Angel, before dropping to his knees and kissing her toes.

 

“Thank you for admitting me again to our home,” Missy said, in a breathy contralto.

 

“You’re quite welcome,” Angel replied. “And should I continue to call you Mommy?” she asked her mother. 

 

“No, you have reached the age where you are entitled to address me by my proper name as well. You may call me Miranda.” She looked around. “But where is your brother? Didn’t he want to greet us?”

 

“I have a surprise for you as well, Miranda.” She called up the stairs. “Candy, time to come down.”

 

Her brother appeared at the top of the stairs, paused on the landing, and began his descent. He wore a pink t-shirt and matching pedal-pushers, his feet in pink patent kitten-heeled shoes. He gasped when he realized who the other blonde with his mother was.

 

Miranda smiled. “So, you finally took full control of your little brother,” she said. “I presume you used the methods I taught you?”

 

“Yes, Miranda,” Angel replied. “Watch—Candy is dandy.” And the sissy’s eyes glazed over, his mind going blank, as he awaited further instructions from his dominant sister. “Candy, go greet our mother as I have instructed. Oh—and I think from now on, you should address her as ‘Mumsy’.”

 

Candy went to his mother and took her hand, lightly kissing it. “Good evening, Mumsy. May I kiss your feet?”

 

“Yes, of course—Candy, is it?” She extended her right foot, and Candy bent to place his pink lips upon her sandaled toes. She switched feet and he did the same to the left one. As he rose, Miranda noted a decided bulge in his tight pants. “Goodness—have you even trained him to be aroused by submission?”

 

“Naturally…I had hoped to have a few more days to complete his training before you came home,” Angel apologized. “I still have to give him further lessons in muff-diving and anal reception. My friend, Dahlia, is assisting in those instructions. She wants to take him on as her personal male lesbian lover when we’re done.”

 

“An excellent idea…but for now, what about some basic maid training?” Miranda said. “Missy can assist with that.” She called to her sissy husband. “Missy, go to change to your maid’s uniform…and find one for Candy. He looks like he would fit in one of yours from before we got your tits put in. You two are going to serve dinner to Angel and me.”

 

And so, that evening, Candy got his first instruction in prancing about in a short black satin dress floating on a mass of petticoats, his legs in fishnet tights and his feet in black patent pumps with six-inch stiletto heels. Missy showed him the proper way to serve at table and to take orders for drinks. By the end of the night, both sissies were exhausted.

 

“All right, darlings, that will do for now,” Miranda announced after the last round of beverages were served. “Missy, help your sissy son prepare for bed and then get yourself ready as well. I will join you in our bedroom shortly.”

 

Candy fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the bed, but Missy knew there would be more for him to do when he joined his wife. He entered, wearing a baby-doll without panties, and took his position on the bed, face down, his pert bottom raised. From the corner of his eye, he saw Miranda come in, her strap-on dildo bouncing as she walked. “Ready to be pegged, my dear?” she purred.

 

“Yes, Miranda, ready and eager,” he replied, wiggling his ass in invitation. Miranda knelt on the bed and positioned her shaft at the entrance to his ass-pussy, and gently began her penetration. Once she was all the way in, she pulled back and thrust in more vigorously. Missy grunted at the feeling and then sighed with fulfillment. “Oh, Miranda! You are so good to your sissy! Do you suppose Angel has pegged Candy yet?”

 

“Missy! You naughty minded little minx!” Miranda said, pushing into him a bit harder. “That would be incest! She did say she gave him a preliminary lesson in cunnilingus, and has prepared his bottom with a butt-plug, but she is otherwise saving his virginity for her friend, Dahlia.”

 

“Mmmmm,” Missy purred in pleasure. “I’m sure he’ll have a lovely time with her.”

 

The next day, Angel dropped Candy off at Dahlia’s door. “Aren’t you staying?” he asked.

 

“No, for the next week, you’re entirely Dahlia’s, brother mine,” Angel replied. “Now, ring the bell and wait.” She drove off, leaving him on the doorstep in a classic minidress and heels. He pushed the doorbell…and after what seemed like forever, the door opened.

 

And there stood Dahlia, in a tight black t-shirt with the words “Domme Dyke” in white, black leather pants, and black pumps with six-inch heels, causing her to tower over Candy. “Hello, Candy,” she purred. “You look just as sweet as your name implies.”

 

Candy curtseyed and answered, “Thank you, Dahlia.” Whereupon, she slapped his cheek.

 

“You will address me as ‘Mistress’ whenever we are alone,” she corrected him. “Now, come in—we have a lot to do and not much time to do it.” She strode into the house, through the living room and to her bedroom. “This is my boudoir. You will be spending a good deal of time here—but not sleeping. Your room is next door. For now, out of that dress—I want to see what delicates Angel has put you in.”

 

Candy obeyed, revealing a pink bralette and matching thong. “Very good—she knew I would not want a lot getting in the way. The rest of the clothes you will need during your stay I will provide.” As she spoke, she removed her own outerwear, exposing her black lace bra and panties. She lay back on the bed, grinning. “I understand Angel gave you a brief instruction on pleasing a woman with your mouth and tongue.”

 

“Yes….Mistress,” Candy replied. “I found it—enjoyable.”

 

“That’s good—you’ll be doing a lot of it while you’re here,” Dahlia said, “and learning how to get better and better at it. I’m going to turn you into a muff-diving male lesbian slut!”

 

“Muff-diving?” he asked.

 

“Oh, you hadn’t heard that term before?” Dahlia laughed. “It’s a rather vulgar way to describe what is clinically called cunnilingus—the use of the mouth and tongue to arouse a woman. But I much prefer it, because it sounds so deliciously humiliating.” She opened her legs and pointed. “What are you waiting for? Begin!”

 

Tentatively, Candy crawled between her legs and began licking and sucking at her pussy. Thanks to his conditioning with his sister, he found the taste and smell intoxicating. The more he encountered, the more he wanted. But the whole thing was intensely arousing and he found his sissy-cock was barely contained by his tiny thong. He began to rub it against the bed as he worked his way deeper into Dahlia’s sex.

 

“Stop that!” Dahlia yelled and pushed him away. “This exercise is intended for me to climax, not you! You are to be left in humiliating, unrelieved arousal.” She thought for a moment. “Candy is dandy,” she said, and watched as he fell back into trance. “Whenever you are muff-diving, you are frozen, except for your head and neck and mouth. You can do nothing to deal with your own arousal as it inexorably grows. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress,” Candy replied. Dahlia lay back down and opened her legs again. She snapped her fingers to awaken him—SNAP!!—and said, “Resume.” Instantly, Candy returned to his ministrations to her sex, his own body immovable, even as his sissy-cock further engorged and his desire for orgasm increased exponentially. Eventually, Dahlia’s orgasm arrived and she bucked and writhed against his mouth, only furthering his frustration. She pushed him away and got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a small glass.

 

“Unfreeze,” she said and handed him the glass. “Go on, wank yourself and make sure every drop of your cock-cream lands in that glass! In the future, we will have scheduled milking sessions to do this.”

 

“What will you do with the glass, Mistress?” Candy asked.

 

“It will be saved and then mixed with your food later on,” Dahlia replied. “You will learn the taste of your own cream and, in time, grow to love it.” She took the glass to the kitchen and put it in the refrigerator. “Now, stand up,” she said on her return, “and put on the pink patent pumps you’ll find at the foot of the bed.”

 

Candy did as directed. “Very good,” his mistress commented. “Hardly a wobble at all. You clearly had practice at this before your sister feminized you. Walk for me, in your best sissy manner.” He began to step around the room, but Dahlia stopped him. “No, that will not do. A nice try, but it’s too normal, too much the way any real girl might move.” She paused to consider, then said, “Candy is dandy.”

 

Immediately, he fell back into his girly trance. “Candy, there is a chain connecting your ankles. It is just eight inches long. Any stride longer than that will cause you to stumble and trip. There is another chain about your waist and your arms are locked to it at the elbows. You can hold your arms in front of you bent at the elbow, but that is all. You feel these chains whenever I order you to Mince Little Sissy. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied.

 

“That’s good.” She snapped her fingers—SNAP!!—and he awoke. “Now, Mince Little Sissy.” His arms moved tight to his waist, bent at the elbow and he began to walk again, the imaginary chain restricting his stride to a quick little mincing movement. It was just as sissy-ish, as overly girly, as humiliatingly over the top as Dahlia wished it to be. She kept him like that for the rest of the day, serving her in his scanties and heels, moving in tiny steps, with his arms kept in their feminine pose.

 

That evening, they again retired to Dahlia’s boudoir. “Tonight, I want you to lay on your back, Candy—with your head propped on the pillow.” Once her sissy was in position, Dahlia stripped off her panties, climbed onto the bed and sat on his face, her pussy carefully positioned over his mouth. “I think you know what to do,” she purred. “I think I know what you want to do.”

 

The training, programming and conditioning took over, as Candy began to suck and lick at his Mistress’s sex. “Yes, very nice, very erotic, isn’t it, to have my pussy so overwhelm you? Your sissy-cock seems to think so, it is growing and twitching very nicely. When you have brought me to two climaxes, I will milk your sissy-cock and add the cream to what we saved this morning. Perhaps we will mix it into your morning coffee.”

 

That only encouraged Candy to redouble his efforts and soon Dahlia was grinding her pussy into his face as she experienced her second orgasm. Then she collected the glass from the refrigerator and began to pump his sissy-cock. “Feel my hand caress you—up and down, up and down. It’s so much more sensuous, so soft and gentle, compared to your own wanking, isn’t it? You much prefer when I do it, don’t you?”

 

“Yes….yes, Mistress,” Candy grunted as his cock-cream spurted into the glass.

 

“Good…then we will only gather your cock-cream when I say, when I can do it,” Dahlia declared. “Now, get into your nightie, take the glass back to the fridge and go to your own room for bed.” She stretched and yawned. “I’m tired.”

 

After a week of this kind of training and conditioning, Candy was a totally submissive male lesbian, dedicated to satisfying his Mistress, and only being satisfied himself by her control and domination. When she was satisfied with his performance, Dahlia decided it was time to show off her work to his family. “We’re going to a visit to your Mumsy, Angel and Missy,” she told him, “but we can’t go with you in just the lingerie or nighties you habitually wear around here.” 

 

She pointed to the closet in his room. “I give you permission to choose the clothing you wish them to see you in.” It was a test—the closet had a range of clothing, everything from perfectly normal male attire to standard teenage girl clothes to the most sissified of outfits. If he chose incorrectly, she would put him back in trance for a week and deepen his conditioning; if he picked out the right kind of clothes, she would know she had truly created her perfect companion. “I will be in the living room,” she said. “Come see me there when you have changed.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Candy minced into the living room, a caricature of overt femininity. The dress was virginal white with carousel horses embroidered in gold. The skirt floated over a crisp layer of petticoats, and the bodice clung to his softly rounded youthful bosom. His legs were sheathed in white hose and his feet were in white patent leather Mary-Janes with big bows on the instep. He wore his longest wig, with big pigtails at either side and an enormous white bow on top. He approached where Dahlia sat and curtseyed deeply. “Will I do, Mistress?” he asked.

 

Dahlia stood and hugged him, saying, “You will more than do, darling! You look simply scrumptious! I’m almost afraid to take you to see your family—Angel will want you back!” She picked up the phone. “Go get in the car, sweetie, and I’ll join you shortly.” As Candy left, she dialed Angel’s number. “Angel—he’s all ready. I’d bet he’s even more of a sissy than your father is! I can’t thank you enough for letting me have him. We’ll be there in ten minutes!”

 

True to her word, Dahlia pulled up in front of Angel’s home in that time. Angel rushed out of the house and gushed at seeing her erstwhile brother in his new appearance. Candy gracefully exited the car and curtseyed to his sister. “Hello, Angel,” he said, in the breathy contralto Dahlia had drilled into him, and he extended his limp-wristed hand to her.

 

“Oh, my, I never guessed you’d turn out to be such a simpering little girly thing!” Angel said. “Wait until Miranda sees you!” She took his hand and led him back into what had once been his home. There stood his mother, Miranda—now addressed as “Mumsy” by Candy—and his father, Missy. Miranda wore a black leather floor-length gown that did nothing to hide her shape; Missy was in an extreme corset that reduced his waist to a mere 19 inches and pushed the flesh of his chest into a realistic cleavage and 36-C mounds.

 

Candy curtseyed to his Mumsy and delicately air-kissed his feminized father. “Dahlia, you’ve done wonders with him,” Miranda said. “I’m envious—now I’ll have to work even harder on sissifying Missy, here.” She looked her son over carefully. “You have trained and conditioned him in all the proper…techniques?”

 

“Of course, Miranda,” Dahlia replied. “Would you like a demonstration?”

 

“I’d love one—just let me get out of this gown, first. Missy, come assist me.” She and her husband retreated to their bedroom. When they returned, Miranda was in just a black bustier, sheer black hose and patent pumps…and no panties. She took a seat on the leather recliner. “Now, that I’m on what we call my ‘throne’ around here, I’m ready.” She spread her legs and pointed to her crotch. “Candy?”

 

Candy looked to Dahlia for permission and she nodded. He sank to his knees and buried his face in his mother’s sex. In no time at all, she was moaning in pleasure. Angel whispered in Missy’s ear…and the adult sissy dropped to the floor beside Candy, reached into the younger man’s panties and began to stroke his sissy-cock. “No climax for you until Miranda has at least two orgasms,” Dahlia advised, as she went to the kitchen for a glass.

 

As she returned, it was clear Miranda was already on her second climax and Missy was pumping away at Candy’s sissy-cock. As it began to spurt, Dahlia placed the glass in position and caught every drop and glob of his massive ejaculation. Candy sat back and smiled, and Dahlia placed the glass to his pink lips. “Here you go, sweetheart—you know you want to,” she said, as she poured the cock-cream into his mouth. He licked his lips and smiled again.

 

Miranda looked on, grinning, as she turned to her feminized husband. “Guess what you will be doing from now on, my dear,” she said. Missy’s eyes went wide as he nodded, to acknowledge her order.

 

They had a lovely dinner together, with Missy and Candy serving. Miranda looked at Angel. “You will have to find yourself a male to sissify and train now,” she told her daughter. “Any prospects?”

 

“I’ve had my eye on Candy’s friend Alistair…he looks the type—even more than Candy did,”  Angel answered. “When school starts again, would you like to help me with him, brother dear?”

 

Candy thought a moment and smiled. “Oh, yes, I would very much like to have a sissy friend to go along with my sissy Daddy!”

 

So it was that, on the first day of school. Dahlia and Angel led “new” student Candy to the registrar’s office. Candy was dressed in a modest but still sexy schoolgirl style—low-cut sweater, tight miniskirt and boots. “You look good enough to eat,” Dahlia whispered to him.

 

“Let’s hope Alistair agrees,” Candy replied. “There he is!” He pointed to a slender dark-haired fellow with full lips and an aquiline nose.

 

“Goodness, Angel,” Dahlia noted. “He’s already half-way there…look at how those jeans cling to his ass! You won’t have any trouble turning him into—what did you decide to call him when you’re done?”

 

“Allison,” Angel replied.

 

 

THE END

 

Archelle: Sissy Requirements

Harper's Bizarre for August

Dani's Reward

Bob-Cut

Teen Strumpet

Not Again!

Bubbles appears to be getting stronger...that's the second time in a week she has managed to take over and post something here.

Bubbles Says Hi!

Oh, pooh! I thought I was gonna get a chance to come out for a long while and cause some sexy trouble today, but Dani cancelled her time with Mistress Lola because of some previous commitment or something!

So, I decided to pop in here and leave a message to all of you: Do you want to see and hear more of me? If you and I both nag at Dani's silly sissy brain, I get we can get her to let me out more often!

I just may have to get Dani to do something really bimbo-ish, like wear my bikini!

Dani-Bot

 

Candy is Dandy, part one

 

Kenny leaned back in the chair and sipped the whiskey. It wasn’t his dad’s best stuff, but it would do. The 16-year-old enjoyed the warmth as it slid down his throat and savored the slight buzz he was getting from it. Suddenly, the front door burst open and his older sister, Angel, stormed in.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “Having a good time while Mom and Dad are away?”

 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Kenny replied. “Going to rat me out?”

 

“Oh no,” she said. “I have a much better plan. It’s time you learned a little more about how this house really operates.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means you are going to take your appropriate place in this family,” Angel continued. “Haven’t you ever noticed how Dad always does whatever Mom and I want? How he walks two steps behind Mom in public? How he waits on her hand-and-foot at home?”

 

“Sure,” Kenny answered. “I just thought he was a wimp.” He grinned at the idea.

 

“This is a female-led household, Kenny,” his sister explained. “Mom and I were keeping it from you until we thought you were old enough to understand and take your place as one of the underlings…but what I found you doing just now confirms my suspicion that we had let you have too much leeway for too long. Mom said I could take control of you when the time came…so that’s how it’s going to be.”

 

“You? Take control of me?” Kenny laughed. “And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

 

His slurred speech let Angel know her brother was lightly intoxicated, precisely the condition she needed him to be in for her next step. She sat next to him and looked him deep in the eyes. “I’m told I have a very compelling gaze,” she said. “Perhaps you’ve felt it before.”

 

Kenny tried to look away, but found he could not. The alcohol had already sapped much of his self-control and now his sister’s look and words seemed to lower it even more. “What—what are you doing?” he asked.

 

“I’m hypnotizing you…putting you in trance, just like Mom does Dad every night at bedtime,” Angel told him. “Oh, you didn’t know about that, did you? Mom’s been keeping Dad in hypnotic control for years—and she taught me how to do it, too. You already feel your will draining, don’t you?”

 

“Will draining….”

 

“That’s good,” Angel continued. “Of course, Mom and Dad haven’t had regular sex in years. I’m pretty sure the last time Dad penetrated Mom was the night you were conceived. And you won’t be getting any regular sex either, little brother—in fact, when I’m done with you, you won’t want any.” She slipped her hands under her skirt and pulled off her panties. She draped them over Kenny’s head, with the crotch over his nose. “Here, breathe that in…isn’t it delightful?”

 

Kenny took a deep breath and sighed. “…delightful….” he murmured.

 

“Yes, that’s the best aroma in the world—fresh pussy juice,” Angel went on. “You can already feel it arousing you, making you horny, enlarging your silly little boy-thing.” Kenny’s cock was, indeed, reacting to the combined stimulation of the smell of Angel’s sex and her words. “And the arousal just sends you deeper into trance…surrendering more of your will to me….”

 

“Deeper….surrendering will….”

 

“Okay, little brother…stand up and strip to the skin,” she ordered and he complied. “Oh, how cute! Why, you’re almost hairless, except for those curls around your boy-thing and under your arms—but we’ll take care of that. Come with me to my bathroom.” In the bathroom, Angel used scented shaving cream and her pink, feminine razor to remove his pubic hair and clean his armpits. Then she rubbed a fragrant skin cream all over his body—most especially his private parts—leaving him smooth, pink and girlish.

 

“Oh, that’s lovely!” she gushed. “Follow me to my bedroom—it’s time for the next step.” Obediently, Kenny followed her to her room, where she rummaged in her dresser to find the perfect choice—a matching bra and panty set. She handed him the panties: “Put these on, make sure that nice hard little cock fits snugly.” Once he had the skimpy undies in place, she wrapped the bra around him. As she did, she grasped the loose flesh of his chest and carefully fitted it into the cups of the bra. “Oh, goodie! Your boy-boobs are just the right size to fill these B-cups. Go to the mirror and look at yourself!”

 

Kenny did so and stood transfixed by his new image….and his sissy-cock grew harder in his panties. “Look at that!” Angel laughed. “Just like Dad—you love being teased and humiliated and feminized! Mom has always said that all males are just sissies deep inside; I guess she’s right!” She reached out and caressed his sissy-cock through the nylon of the panties and felt it twitch in response. “You want more, little brother? Tell me….”

 

“Yes…more…more, please….” His hypnotized plea increased Angel’s own arousal. She gently pushed him to his knees and drew his head closer to her own naked privates. “You liked the smell of my panties…what about the scent of my hot, wet pussy?”

 

“Mmmmmmm…” he groaned, leaning closer to her, his hands straying to his own crotch.

 

She slapped them away. “None of that—sissies don’t get to play with themselves without permission. But you can play with me….have you ever used your tongue on a girl?”

 

“No….no, I haven’t,” he admitted.

 

“Well, it’s time you learned how.” She pushed his face into her pussy, enjoying the feel of his breath on her sex. Tentatively, he licked at her lips and she moaned in response. “Deeper with the tongue, sissy, and find my little button.” Kenny obeyed and probed deeper, until he encountered the hard little nubbin. As he licked at it, Angel began to rock her hips into his face…and he discovered this raised his excitement. Angel smiled. Good, he’s being hypnotically programmed to associate eating pussy with arousal.

 

She began to grind her pussy into his face, smearing her juices all over. Kenny was overwhelmed by the taste and scent, but still not reaching orgasm. But when Angel suddenly started to buck with her own climax, he fell back, exhausted…but still with a rock-hard sissy-cock. He reached for it again, but she grabbed both his hands and held them tight. “Not yet, my pretty one.”

 

The session had done its work. Kenny was now hypnotically addicted to muff-diving and the taste and aroma of aroused pussy. The first steps were completed.

 

It was time to increase his feminization. “Come sit at my vanity,” Angel ordered. He complied and daintily took his place. “You have a very feminine face already,” she said, “but a true sissy needs to be fully made-up at all times. Watch what I do as I turn you into a pretty little thing.”

She began by shaping his eyebrows into a  feminine arch, then applied foundation to even his skintone. Next was contouring, to give his cheeks and nose a more girlish shape. She then turned to his eyes—a light tone under the brow to raise it, a darker tone on the lids. Then eyeliner which “opened” his eyes, making them seem wide and innocent, followed by mascara and false lashes, so he could flirtatiously bat his eyes. 

 

Blush was the next step, so that the sissy would appear embarrassed and humiliated by his feminization. Last were the lips, reshaped into a pout and covered in a deep pink lip gloss. Angel stepped back to examine her work. “No wig—at least not just yet. I think my new sissy needs to realize he is not entirely a girl…and never will be!”

 

She directed Kenny’s attention to his image in the mirror. “Look at yourself! This is who you are from now on—a pretty half-sexed toy, my toy….at least until we find someone to take charge of you. Are you pleased with your new look?”

 

A smile came over Kenny’s face. “Yes, sister, I am happy to be a submissive sex toy….”

 

“Of course, you are,” Angel chuckled. “It’s what you always have been, even though you didn’t realize it.” She stopped for a moment in thought. “But we can’t keep calling you ‘Kenny’ now—you need a suitably sissyish name, and not something an ordinary girl would use. I have it—Candy!”

 

“I am Candy,” the newly christened sissy said. “I am Candy.”

 

“Yes, and I’m going to waken you from trance now, and you will be Candy and happy to be,” Angel said. “When I snap my fingers, you will no longer be in trance, but you will act upon all that I have told you and we have done. And when I say Candy is dandy, you will return to trance, ready to receive further instruction and programming. Do you understand?”

 

“I understand,” Candy replied.

 

“Good!” SNAP!!

 

And the feminized boy’s eyes suddenly went wide as he stared at his image in the mirror—hairless and clad in bra and panties, his face the epitome of youthful girlish allure. “Angel, will I be like this forever?” he asked.

 

“For as long as I wish you to be,” she answered. “At some point, I may desire a different look for you.” She glanced at her watch. “But right now, I have a call to make. Why don’t you lay down on the bed and play with your nipples? See how close to orgasm you can get without touching your sissy-cock.”

 

Candy smiled and did as requested, while Angel went to the living room with her phone. “Hello, Dahlia? It’s Angel. Remember that surprise I said I would have for you? When I told you the details of my parents’ marriage? Well, it’s all ready for you! Can you come over right away? Great—I promise you’re going to love it!”

 

A short time later, the doorbell rang. Grinning, Angel called, “Candy, get the door!” His submissive nature taking the forefront, the sissy obeyed without question, despite how he was dressed—or, rather, was not dressed. Dahlia, a dazzling college co-ed with an hourglass figure and glossy black hair, gaped in surprise at the figure who opened the door for her.

 

Then she burst into laughter. “Oh my….it’s Kenny!”

 

“Not anymore,” Angel corrected her. “It’s Candy now. Candy, greet my guest properly—kiss her feet!” Candy knelt and gently placed his pink lips on Dahlia’s painted toes, showing prettily through her sandals.

 

“Angel, he’s priceless!” Dahlia gushed. “However did you do it? I mean, I know your brother’s always been a bit of a wimp, but this….”

 

Angel patted a space beside her on the couch and Dahlia took a seat. Candy simply stood in the middle of the room, his arousal on full display. “I explained how my mother took control of Dad,” Angel began. “Well, when I had the opportunity today to exert my will on my little brother in the same way, I did. A bit of hypnosis, combined with the natural submission of all males, and voila! By the way, he’s yours, if you want him.”

 

Dahlia gasped. “You mean?”

 

“Yes, he’s ready to be a pretty little male lesbian to a naturally dominant dyke like you!” Angel told her. “I’ll help you train him to be exactly the kind of lover you want…and he’ll have to live at home for a while, of course…but by the time school starts in September, you can take him with you to college.”

 

Dahlia stood and circled Candy, examining him. “Tell me, Candy, would you like that? To live with me in college as my submissive lezzy?”

 

“I would do whatever you and Angel wish,” he replied.

 

“He’d have to be a bit more feminine,” Dahlia noted. “The college would never let anyone still so obviously male live as my roommate in the dorms.”

 

“Not a problem,” Angel said. “We have all summer to prepare him…and I know Mom will love helping out when she and Dad get back from their…retreat.”

 

“What exactly do they do on these trips?” Dahlia asked.

 

“They meet other couples in female-led relationships, most of which have feminized males just like Dad and Candy,” Angel answered. “Mom has always said she’d invite me along when I got a ‘partner’ of my own. I have to admit I can’t wait!”

 

Dahlia grinned. “Think they’ll let me bring Candy sometime?”

 

“Sure, once he’s fully trained,” Angel said. “Speaking of which, we can’t leave the little darling to prance around in just his scanties. Let’s find him something appropriate to wear.” The two girls began to go through Angel’s clothes, searching for just the right look for her feminized sibling.

 

“Something cute and girlish,” Dahlia said. “After all, he’s still just in high school. I’d like to be able to take him to the local teen hangout and see what happens.”

 

“How about this?” Angel said, displaying a blouse and sweater combination with a pleated skirt. “He’ll look like a Catholic school girl!”

 

“Oh, yes!” Dahlia turned to look over some of Angel’s other accessories. “And here’s a lovely blonde wig we can use. He’ll turn heads in this!”

 

“He certainly will!” Angel agreed. “Candy, come here—we have to get you dressed to go out!”

 

Despite his induced submissive nature, this was a bit of a surprise to Candy. “Go out? You mean leave the house? In girl’s clothes?”

 

 

 

“Not girl’s clothes, you silly thing,” Angel corrected him. “Sissy clothes—just the right look for a submissive, feminized playtoy like you!” In short order, they had Candy in the blouse, sweater and skirt, as well as knee socks and black patent mary-jane shoes. Dahlia fitted the shoulder-length wavy blonde wig to his head and added a barrette to add to the schoolgirl charm of his appearance.

 

Angel headed for the car with one last admonition to Candy. “Mince like a prissy little girly,” she said. “I want it clear that you’re not a real teenage girl, but a sissy submissive lezzy.” He complied, taking short steps, with his arms bent at the elbows and his hands hanging limp at the wrists. “That’s the way, sweetie! Dahlia, will you escort our sissy to the car and make sure he sits in a properly girlish manner?”

 

It took several tries before Dahlia was satisfied with the way Candy got into the car, but they were soon on their way to the local diner, where the high school kids hung out. Angel and Dahlia made Candy lead the way in, so that he would be the center of attention. Most of the customers recognized the two girls as members of the local lesbian community, but they wondered who their new young companion was—especially when, again, they made Candy repeat getting seated until they were pleased with the exaggerated femininity of his movements.

 

When the waitress came to them, Dahlia said, “I’ll have the cheeseburger platter and a Coke.” Angel said, “I’ll have the same.” But when Candy began to order, Angel stopped him. “Our little sissy will have the salad, no dressing, and a glass of water with lemon.” She looked Candy in the eye. “You have to watch your weight, little brother, if you’re going to fit in those bikinis you want for the summer.” The waitress snickered as she left them—and stopped at one of the tables filled with girls to pass on what she’d heard.

 

There was a burst of laughter from that table and the girls all began staring and pointing. Finally, one of them got up and came over to Angel, Dahlia, and Candy. “Pardon me,” she said to Candy, giggling, “but aren’t you Angel’s brother, Kenny?”

 

Angel glared at her in mock anger. “Not Kenny—Candy. And he’s not my brother anymore—he’s my sissy.” 

 

The girl’s giggles turned to outright laughter. “Candy! His name is Candy!”

 

Angel decided it was time to really turn up the humiliation for her feminized sibling. “Candy is dandy,” she said to him and watched as he sank back into his girlish trance state. “Go over to that table, curtsey sweetly, and tell them all exactly what happened this morning.”

 

Candy rose and minced to the other table. He paused, grasped the hem of his skirt on each side, and dropped to a deep curtsey. Still holding that pose, he said, “This morning my sister caught me breaking the rules and turned me into a submissive little plaything. I am Candy, a male lesbian sissy.” The girls erupted in laughter once more and Candy rose, blushing with embarrassment, and returned to Dahlia and Angel.

 

“Oh, are you shamed and embarrassed, my pretty sissy brother?” Angel asked. “Good—all sissies should experience such things.” Just then, she noticed the high school girls leaving. “Oh, what a shame, your…admirers…are going.”

 

But moments later, the waitress came to their table. “One of those girls asked me to give you this, honey,” she said, handing a slip of paper to Candy…but Angel took it first and read it aloud: “I think you’re just delicious. Call me—484-555-9876.” She smiled at her brother. “Why, Candy—only your first day as a sissy, and you get a mash note!”

 

The trio soon returned to Angel and Candy’s home and after a bit more play, Dahlia made her farewells. Shortly after that, Angel’s phone beeped with a text message. “Oh! Mom and Dad are coming home early—they will be here tomorrow evening…and Mom says she’s got a surprise for us. She’s going to reveal Dad’s sissy self!” She looked at her feminized brother. “Won’t she be surprised to find out she has two sissies in the house now!”

 

She glanced at her watch. “Bedtime, Candy. I laid out a nightie for you in your room. Speaking of which, it’s far too masculine  in décor. Mom and I will have to work on that.” Candy went obediently to his room and found the delicate baby-doll nightgown Angel had selected. He put it on and then went to present himself to her. “Yes, that’s just the look a lezzy sissy should present at bedtime…well, except for one thing.”

 

She went to her nightstand and produced a shiny object. “Lay face down on the bed, Candy, and put your lovely bottom in the air. We have to start training you to be pegged, so I’ll be stretching your ass-pussy with one of these every night.” She lubed the penetrator and gently slid it into him. “Feel that, Candy? That’s the feminine feeling of being filled! Now, roll over.”

 

He complied and found himself staring at her mesmeric eyes. “Candy is dandy,” she said and he fell into trance. “Go to sleep and dream of serving your lesbian mistresses. Get aroused and horny. I expect an enthusiastic response in the morning.”

 

 TO BE CONTINUED