Let me introduce myself: I am Charles Demanden, though I am generally known as Charlotte. As this story begins, I am 15 years old. I live with my mother, Vera Demanden, my brother Sal, and my father Henry. Sal and Daddy are, like me, usually referred to as Sally and Henrietta. Why? Because Mumsy is a firm believer in the superiority of women and, subsequently, the feminization of all males to an obedient, submissive condition. Inga, by the way, is our gorgeous Swedish au pair, hired by Mumsy to assist in maintaining the girlish ways of the men in her life.
At the time of these events, I was a sophomore in high school. For some obvious reasons, I did not attend school in my feminine guise. No, I went every day in the male school uniform—white shirt, tartan tie, navy blue slacks, and black shoes. But I wished I could wear the cute outfit the girls did: crisp white blouse with a navy bow at the collar, pleated tartan skirt, white knee socks, and black patent mary-jane shoes with a one-inch heel. Yes, after 14 years of living as a girl at home, I was quite adjusted—you might even say addicted—to girls clothes.
At any rate, after assisting me in my bath (where she paid a great deal of attention to my erogenous zones), Inga helped me dress. She began with a pale pink silk camisole and matching panties, both with pretty lace at the edges. I would have to be very careful about letting that lace show while at school, of course, to avoid a round of teasing from my more masculine schoolmates. It was hard enough to deal with their taunts about my lack of hair anywhere but my head. Before putting me in my school clothes, Inga sprayed me with a light scent. “There,” she exclaimed, “now you will be reminded of your true girly nature all day!” And she leaned and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed as this made my male member stiffen—having had a crush on our au pair for quite some time.
******
“Henrietta? Are you awake?” Inga called to me.
“Yes, I am getting ready,” I replied.
“Do you need assistance?” she asked.
“Not at the moment.” I sat at my vanity and stared at my reflection in the mirror. How had I come to this? The face that stared back at me was entirely feminine, even without makeup—despite the fact that I was born and remain entirely male. I was named Henry Collins forty years ago. But now I am Henrietta Demanden, having met, fallen in love with, and married Vera Demanden. Vera is an ultra-feminist, practicing female superiority and female-led-marriage—hence the reason I have taken her surname. In order to express her control, she has transformed me into her dream lover—a male lesbian.
My cock has been locked in chastity since our wedding night, released just once a week. It was on two of those occasions that our children were born. Vera has had me in hormone treatments now for ten years, and I have a lovely pair of B-cup knockers, so that I wear a 40-B bra. Diet and corseting over that same decade have reduced my waist to a sylph-like 30 inches. The hormones have also retarded all my masculine hair growth and my body is smooth and sleek from my eyebrows to my feet.
A knock at the door. “Henrietta, your bath is ready,” said Inga. I stood, let my nightgown and negligee fall to the floor, and went to the bathroom. I saw my teen-age son, Charlotte, step out of his bathroom, looking pink as a natural girl after his erotic scrubbing by Inga. We nodded and smiled. After so many years of feminization, we were no longer embarrassed by our girlish situation.
******
I hopped out of my big canopied bed and looked around my room, all pink and white the way a little girl’s place should be! I’d heard Inga wake up Charlotte and Daddy and knew it was my turn. Inga had already laid out my clothes for the day—my pink satin camisole and matching ruffled panties, my white ankle socks with lace trim, my three petticoats, and the lovely pastel blue dress that would float over those pettis and tickle my bare thighs. Oh, and I mustn’t forget my pink patent leather mary-janes with the big bows!
I skipped into my bathroom and Inga gently lifted me into the bubbles. She handed my ducky bathtoy and I smiled. I knew, after fifteen minutes in this delightfully scented water, I would come out clean and pink and glowing. As she dried and curled my hair, I wondered if today would be one of the special days when I was allowed to wear makeup…and when she set me at my little vanity and dusted my eyelids with a soft pink color and my cheeks with a blush, I had to smile. The last touch was a pretty pink lip gloss.
Unlike Charlotte, I was being homeschooled and could spend my entire day in my girly clothes and not have to pretend to be a normal boy!
******
“No, thank you, dear,” I replied. “I’m up and dressed.” Lovely as it is to have my pretty au pair and lover dress me, sometimes I simply want to do things for myself. Besides, then I get to surprise her with my appearance, whether in my shortest, tightest skirt or in an elegant formal gown. “But please enter—I have some special instructions for you.”
Inga came in and we met in the usual way, her lips gently brushing mine until—suitably aroused—we plunged our tongues together in a passionate kiss. “Well! That was very nice, dear,” I said. “Now, take out your notebook.” She did as directed and I began to tell her what I wanted.
“When Charlotte arrives home from school, please dress her in her girliest attire and then have all three of my sissies assemble in the drawing room. There are some changes coming!”
*****
In a moment, Inga joined us as well. Mumsy was in a semi-formal dress, as though preparing to attend a cocktail party. As always, she was the epitome of the dominant woman. She sensuously lowered herself into a chair and looked us over. “My dears, there are going to be a few changes made.” She looked me in the eyes. “Charlotte, sweetie, beginning Monday, you will no longer attend school dressed as a boy. I have hired a wonderful tutor for you, Ms. Fabricantfille, and she will attend to all your education. In addition, we will begin a regimen of hormones for you, similar to the ones your father is on. By the time you turn 17, you will have a lovely set of tits—maybe even larger than Henrietta’s. And like your father, you will be locked in chastity device, permitted a ‘milking’ once a week.”
“Sally, darling,” Mumsy continued, “I have decided you will never be allowed to appear as anything older than the six-year-old you are now. Inga will begin a series of sleep-lessons for you, that will keep you at your current mental age level. It will be so nice to have a petticoated little sissy around forever.”
She turned to Inga. “Please escort the children to the playroom, then return here. My further instructions are not suited to their ears.” Inga led us out, leaving Mumsy and Daddy alone.
*******
Shocked, I nearly whined in response. “Mistress, you mean I will be locked in chastity permanently and never permitted an ejaculation again?”
“No, dear, but I am turning over those duties to Inga,” she replied. “Inga will also be my bedmate from now on. You always knew I am a domme-dyke, didn’t you?”
“Of course, Mistress, but I thought my new persona of Henrietta satisfied those needs of yours,” I protested.
“They did, for a while,” Mistress Vera answered, smiling. “But I’m afraid Inga is far more my cup of tea…and, since she is bisexual, she will get equal pleasure from satisfying both of us.” She took Inga’s hand and lowered her to a seat on the Mistress’s lap. “Oh! One more thing—when Inga gives you your weekly ‘milking,’ she will capture your cock-cream and use it to ‘sweeten’ your coffee the next morning. Get used to the taste, dear.”
Mistress Vera rose and added, “You are dismissed.”
*******
“Oh, yes, Mistress,” Inga answered. “I have been waiting for this moment since you hired me a year ago.”
“Good girl! Now, go see that Cook has dinner in the works—and be sure she has laced Henrietta’s and Charlotte’s servings with a double dose of hormones. I want them both especially femme and horny in the next few days!”
THE END
2 comments:
I love the story! Michelle
Ms Dani, I love the story and especially all the pretty ladies is those gorgeous dresses. Of course Mistress Vera is right! She is a firm believer in the superiority of women and, subsequently, the feminization of all males to an obedient, submissive condition. She reminds me of Mistress Amelia who is mommy's Mistress (and mine too, of course). Mistress Amelia demands obedience and total submission to her! I can't imagine not being in dresses each and every day. It would be so embarassing to meet a lady that I must greet with a sissy curtsey and be in slacks.I would die of shame!
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