Sunday, December 30, 2007
For years, I've been searching for a really good photo of Lana Turner in this outfit from her opening scene in The Postman Always Rings Twice...and where should I finally find one but in today's edition of The New York Times Book Review!
Why have I been seeking this image? Well, it goes back to what I said in my last post about fantasies of being made to dress in something secretly feminine in public. Look at the outfit--except for the shoes and the turban, it's quite androgynous. Imagine some sissy--with short hair and maybe a touch of lipstick and mascara--made to walk through the mall in this.
I get a hard-on just thinking about it!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Men in Heels
The image above is from the titular blog, now added to the my links list. It's a fascinating little site...and one I enjoy because one of my fantasies has always been to be out in public in some form of trans-gender outfit--clearly male but showing some female trait or another.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
"Happy Christmas to All...
...and to all a Good Night!"...as Clement Clark Moore wrote. (And, yes, he did write "Happy Christmas," not "Merry....")
I'll probably not be blogging over the next two weeks, so Happy New Year as well. I thought this was an opportunity to thank everybody who has commented here, who has linked to here, who reads here regularly.
And a chance to talk about how I feel about Christmas. I'm with Charles Dickens, who put these words into the mouth of Scrooge's nephew, Fred: "I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"
There is practically no version of A Christmas Carol that I cannot stand to watch at least once, although I have a favorite--the 1984 TV version starring George C. Scott, which I consider closest to both the spirit and the letter of Dickens' work. I will confess a soft spot for The Muppet Christmas Carol, in part because my kids love it so (despite their being in college and grad school now).
So I will close this post with the immortal words of Tiny Tim:
God bless us, everyone!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
After two rather snotty and abrupt messages from administrators there--one about photos posted identical to ones here and one about the link to this blog on my profile--it's clear to me that they are, all in all, way too prudish about perfectly innocent stuff.
What really ticked me off is when they objected to the link to this blog--which has been there since I joined their forum--and refused to outline their specific objections, saying only "if I read the rules, I'll know." Well, I read the rules, and I haven't a clue.
I don't object to any site having rules, I object to them treating participants as children, and taking a heavy-handed approach to violations. What's wrong with "Hey, Dani, I think the stuff you just posted may be a problem and here's why...." as opposed to "You've violated our rules, we've removed the offending stuff, now you figure out how you offended."
It's a shame I have to do this, as there were a lot of good people over there.
Follow-up: They're even refusing to delete my account, claiming the rules say they don't have to.
Final Pics of '07
In preparation for this, yesterday I went out and bought an inexpensive mask and wig. In these pics, the mask has been digitally altered to look more realistic (including "stealing" the eyes from some older pics of myself), but I've left the body untouched. Later I may play with these to create more "fantasy" images.
The shots of the legs alone were done because--back when I was dressing more often--I was often told my legs were my best feature. I think they've gotten a little chunky in the ensuing decades. What do you think?
More pics can be found at My album: Mask-and-Legs
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
An Interesting Encounter
I brought them to the department store clerk, who said, smiling, "How nice to see a man who knows how to buy stockings."
Thursday, November 29, 2007
And I went out and got what is euphemistically called a "body shaper" or "shapewear" these days. It's a Flexees brand waist-nipper. It's definitely pulling in my gut some and giving me a waist (not to mention I love the constrictive feeling), but I'm not certain it's really making all that much of a difference over all. I think I should have gotten a smaller size...it might have been tougher to put on, but it might do more to change my figure. (It was only 22 bucks, so I might splurge on a smaller one next week.)
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I was shocked to find a beautiful woman there, clad in a black leather business suit. "Hello, Pretty Sissy Dani," she said.
I was dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said, 'Hello, Pretty Sissy Dani.' By the way, do you like the feel of those panties you have on?" she continued. Without invitation, she stepped into the house. "I can see you're confused. I'm Mistress Mesmer...a hypno-domme. I've been following your posts on your blog for some time. One of my submissives is a skilled hacker, and I got him to use those skills to track you down."
I decided adamant refusal was my best tactic. "You must be mistaken!" I said, firmly. "I have no idea who 'Pretty Sissy Dani' is, or what you're talking about."
She brushed by me and pointed into the next room, where I had left the computer on and the monitor clearly visible. "Really? Isn't that 'her' blog I see you updating?" She took my face in her hands and stared at me with her deep blue eyes. "Really, sweetheart, you have nothing to fear--I'm here to answer all your prayers. Just relax...relax...."
The next thing I recalled was waking up in a chair in the living room. I had on a bra and panties and a corset with stockings, and pumps with five-inch heels. I struggled to get up but found I was unable to move. "Don't keep trying, Dani, you'll only hurt yourself," the mistress said as she moved into my range of vision. "I was quite surprised to discover that, despite all you've written about hypnosis, you've never been hypnotized before. You're quite a good subject. You can't move right now, because I've hypnotically frozen all your muscles, except the ones in your face. I'll release you, once we've established some ground rules."
Where to Now?
As I think back on what I was feeling yesterday, done up in bra, pantyhose, panties, and heels, I am amazed at what aroused me. It was the feeling of constriction--the tightness of my bra around my chest, the pantyhose constraining my sissy-cock and balls, the smooth, sleek tightness of the hose on my legs, the squeezing of my feet in the shoes, as I balanced on the balls of my feet, and the tightness of the muscles in my calves.
There was also a sense of elation, as I sat at the keyboard and looked down to see the two mounds of my "boobs"--"yes, I can look like a girl, if I choose."
My big question is--what now? Looking at my pics, I've come to the conclusion I'm going to need to get some kind of body shaper. A corset would be nice, but probably out of my price range. Some sort of girdle or other tummy-control is in order, though. My gut doesn't bother me as a guy, but as a girl it's horrible.
How I wish I could go back to being the 5'10" 140-lb thing I was 30 years ago...but, even with diet and exercise, that's probably unlikely.
So, I'm researching what's out there at affordable prices and places I feel comfortable shopping. I'm also considering shaving my legs...a little unsure of that, as I can't afford to have my spouse notice. But my leg hair has always been sparse (I'm not a "bear"), so she might not even notice, particularly at this time of year.
But, as I noted yesterday, I can't get rid of the beard without raising questions. I've thought about getting one of those latex masks...pricey, but eventually the right answer, I think.
Comments? Suggestions? I really would like feedback on this.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
My experience of getting back into dressing, in some small way, continues. Today, at Kmart, I bought a bra and a pair of pantyhose. (I'd rather have a garter belt and stockings, but my courage for shopping in places like Victoria's Secret isn't quite there yet. If you know of a chain of department stores that carries such things that I can get quietly and without fuss, let me know.)
So, right now, I'm wearing my new 44-C bra (stuffed with water-filled bags for shape and weight), my pink lace panties, and my coffee-colored control top pantyhose...under a red turtleneck and jeans...and, of course, with my five-inch heels.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Five-Inch Heels, Part Three
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Three New Links
Five-Inch Heels, Follow-Up
I just realized what I really want to add to my rapidly re-created wardrobe. Anybody know where I can buy frilly socks like these in adult sizes? I don't want to mail-order them.
BTW, I've already discovered something I don't want to try in five-inch heels--rebalancing a washing machine that has rocked itself out of place!
I said in my previous posts that I just might go ahead and buy a pair of high heels. Well, this morning I did.
I went to Target and purchased a pair of Isaac Mizrahi faux-alligator pumps...with a five-inch heel and an instep strap. (Always have loved straps!) Maybe--after more than two decades not wearing heels--I should have gone with a lower heel, but these looked so elegant...and since I'll just be wearing them around the house, why not enjoy my fetish?
I've had them on--along with a pair of knee-high nylons and my baby-blue panties--for about a half-hour now. I've climbed the stairs and walked around in them. I'd forgotten what a kick I got out of that tightness in the back of your calves, that slightly wobbly feeling in your walk, the way your ass sticks out and wiggles.
Yeah, it'll take time to get used to them, and I can only wear them when the wife is out....call it a "mid-life crisis" if you want, but the urge to do a least a little dressing has been building for over a year now!
Attached is a picture of my feet in these shoes...maybe later I'll figure out how to use the video feature on my digital camera to record some stuff of me walking in them.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Wearing Panties, Part Two
I go to a unisex shop (is there any other kind these days?), and I was the only male in the place. What a frisson I got, having an attractive young woman cut my hair, all the while sitting in a pair of pink panties! Thoughts of all the fantasies I've read and written about salons went through my head.
The wife is out of town on business. And I've recently gotten so horny between posting here and role-playing on D&X that I decided I had to indulge. As I've noted before, I haven't dressed in any way for most of the past two decades, haven't even put on a pair of panties.
But right now, I'm wearing a pair of rose-colored nylon panties, trimmed with lovely lace, one of three I picked up at my local Kmart just a short while ago. They're hidden beneath my jeans. At one time, this was a common practice for me...and the thrill of doing it came back to me almost immediately!
Yes, my sissy-cock is quite hard right now.
I suspect the next time she's away for any length of time I'll have to find myself some heels.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Fetish Sissy Dani
You will not remember receiving these instructions, but you will act upon them when you hear me say Fetish Sissy Dani. Now, begin counting backwards from 10; at 1, you will awaken.
"...three....two....one." I felt my eyes flutter open and I was staring at my wife, my mistress, Jennifer. "Now, what have you done to me?" I asked.
"Oh, Dani dearest," she laughed. "Nothing you won't find absolutely delicious when it happens!"
Of course, I'd find it "delicious." She'd seen to that during the hypnotic trance she'd just brought me out of. Just as she'd seen that I enjoy--indeed, adore and desire--my life as her feminized sissy slave. That life had begun nearly five years ago, when Jennifer secretly hypnotized me and instilled in me a desire for women's clothes, often of the most feminine and sissyish nature. She made me completely submissive to her and to most other women, simply by uttering the phrase, Pretty Sissy Dani.
Then she and her friends--Margaret the salon owner and others--proceeded to recruit other women to their ranks of feminizers and many other young men had fallen into the same trap I was in. Within a year, Jennifer even ended my dual life, forcing me to live full-time as Dani. Now we were approaching the fifth anniversary of my first public appearance as Sissy Dani, and I feared she'd developed some new torment for me in honor of that occasion.
"Bring me a drink, darling," she commanded. A combination of training and hypnotic suggestion made her every word an order and I immediately went to the bar. I gave her the glass and then stood in the doorway, holding my own.
"Have you any idea how irresistible you look in that slip and those heels, my love?" Jennifer asked.
"I know exactly how I look," I replied. "And you know how looking this way makes me feel--after all, you caused it."
"Keep it up and the whole world will know," she commented, pointing to the growing bulge at my crotch. "Come here and we'll do something about that."
We awoke the next morning after a passionate night of lovemaking, one in which Jennifer periodically ordered me back into trance, so that her new suggestions could be tested and strengthened. As we prepared for the day's activities, she announced, "Dani love, we're going to the mall this morning. I've laid out some choices of clothes for you. Go see which one you'd prefer."
I went to my dressing room and found three sets of clothes laid out. The first was simply one of my fairly "normal" shopping outfits--a tight-fitting sweater and a miniskirt. The second was similar, but had shorts, instead. The third was completely outrageous...not just for mall shopping, but for nearly anything. It looked like a little girl's party dress, but cut for a grown woman's figure and made all in shiny silver lame. Beside it lay a profusion of petticoats obviously meant to make the short skirt of the dress stand out nearly horizontally. A matching pair of silver pumps with five-inch heels were on the floor.
Jennifer came up behind me. "Which will it be, my Fetish Sissy Dani?"
"What did you call me--" I started to say. "Oh, mistress, the silver party dress is just divine! I must wear that to the mall today!" I gushed.
"Very well, Dani," she answered, smiling. "Get dressed."
As I put on the lingerie that went with the absurd outfit, as I sat to do my makeup, I knew something had clicked inside me when Jennifer called me "Fetish Sissy Dani". Even thinking about that name seemed to reinforce the desire I had to wear the girlish dress she had proposed. Not since my first year as Dani had I felt such a compulsion for a particular outfit.
Deep inside, I considered what was happening. I'm going to attract an incredible amount of attention dressed this way, I thought. She's done something to me again, and "Fetish Sissy Dani" is the trigger. Knowing I was about to experience a new humiliation, but unable to resist the hypnotic hold Jennifer had had on me for so long, I smoothed the dark nylons onto my legs. My god--she's got me feeling so incredibly aroused by all this!
Within an hour, we were at the mall. Sure enough, we got a lot of stares, both admiring and disapproving. After a little while, Jennifer said, "Wait for me here, Dani dearest." She moved quickly around the corner and disappeared. I bided my time, strolling a little around the center court where she'd left me, secretly enjoying the attention I received. I felt my cock rise in my satin panties, as it always did when my humiliation was at its highest.
Then I heard Jennifer's voice again, "Pose for me, Fetish Sissy Dani."
I whirled around and struck a somewhat little-girlish stance, all against my will. Another hypnotic trigger, of course. A flash went off and more shoppers turned to stare at the shiny-clad over-sized little girl with the sexy legs.
"A new item for my album!" Jennifer announced, grinning.
I thought perhaps Jennifer had had her fill of this new humiliation technique after the incident at the mall, but I was to be disappointed.
She had planned a social gathering at our home for the next evening. Invited were some of our closest friends and associates--Margaret the salon owner, Susan and Tammy, her boy/girl "little sister", Carla and Mandy, her son who had grown into most attractive sissy boy, and Maria and Barbie, her husband who had been made into a busty beauty in love with her own breasts.
A few hours before the first of them would arrive, Jennifer said, "Once again, I've laid out some outfits for you to choose from. Go see."
Apprehensively, I went to my room. On the bed were three sets of clothes. One was a quite normal cocktail dress, such as I had worn many times before on such occasions. The second was a pair of lounging pajamas. The third was a full-scale French maid's uniform.
Jennifer had never made me serve as a maid before. I knew what was coming. "Please, Mistress, not that--it's too humiliating, too much of a cliché," I pleaded.
"Really, Dani? You mean you don't have a maid fetish, Sissy Dani?"
She'd done it again. With those words, the maid's outfit became the most beautiful, the most appealing, the sexiest set of clothes in the room--maybe even the sexiest I'd ever been allowed to wear. I stripped out of the clothes I had on and began to dress the part of Jennifer's serving girl for the evening.
First came a corset, pulled in to make my waist a mere 19 inches. Attached to it were a pair of black lace nylons. My panties were crotchless--"A proper feminized maid is always available," Jennifer teased--and the feel of the layers of taffeta and lace petticoats against my already aroused cock simply stimulated me more.
Atop the corset and petticoats came the black satin maid's dress itself, molding itself to my curves (both real and manufactured) like a second skin, it seemed. The black patent pumps featured the highest heels I could recall wearing, seven inches in all, turning my already feminine gait into a short mincing step.
The outfit was completed with black lace gloves and an incredibly frilly white organza apron.
Just as I was completing my makeup--heavier and more dramatic than my usual by half--the doorbell rang. With my mind firmly in servant mode, thanks to Jennifer's hypnotic suggestions and the effect of the uniform, I minced to the door to answer it, and found that all our guests had arrived at once. I curtseyed and invited them all to the living room.
Carla was the most enthusiastic in her praise for Jennifer's latest hypnotic endeavors. "Jenn, she's just precious!" she cooed. "I've been trying to convince Mandy to serve as a maid at our parties, but she always balks at the idea."
"Perhaps she needs some further hypnotic conditioning," Jennifer advised. "Bring her over next week--we'll have her panting after black satin and stiff white pettis in no time!"
Mandy cringed. Unlike the rest of us, she had never been completely transformed into a girl. Her chest was still flat and her clothes--though incredibly girlish--still had male touches. She seldom wore skirts and heels (that night she wore flowing silk pants atop patent leather flats with little bows on the instep) and her face was touched with just enough cosmetics to make her seem a sissy, not a woman.
Tammy, on the other hand, had developed into a full-fledged female flirt, almost as much of a dominant feminizer as her sister. She found my new plight to be delightfully amusing, turning me from her peer into her plaything. Late in the evening, she reached under my frills to discover she had free access to my cock. I yelped when she tweaked it.
"Why, Dani dear, whatever is the matter?" Jennifer asked, knowingly.
"I think I found her 'handle'," Tammy responded, grinning. "May I play with it, Mistress Jennifer?"
"Of course, you may, Tammy," Jennifer said. "But let me give you some advice...." She came over and whispered in Tammy's ear.
Tammy began to stroke my cock. She was wearing calf-leather gloves and the touch was electrifying. "You know, Dani, I've often wondered what this would feel like if a cock-ring were added." Suddenly, I felt a constriction around the base of my shaft. I knew nothing had changed, but my body now reacted as if a cock-ring were there. Tammy's actions continued to add to my arousal, but the hypnotically suggested constriction on my cock prevented any further reaction on my part.
After a few moments, Tammy announced, "That's enough of that," and ceased her ministrations. But because of the imagined cock-ring, I remained hard and erect. "Problem, Dani?" Tammy inquired.
"Don't worry, Tammy," Jennifer said. "She can live with it a while longer."
I "lived with it" until our guests departed an hour or so later. Jennifer had led me back to the bedroom, still clad in my maid's uniform, and bade me lay back on the bed. She found my still-hard cock and lowered herself onto it, using it like a living dildo to bring herself to orgasm three or four times. Finally she said, "Release!" and the cock-ring feeling was gone and I exploded into her pussy.
And still Jennifer had not completed her new round of hypnotic controls and humiliations. When we awoke the next day, she announced, "I spoke with Margaret last night. She's given you an appointment later this morning."
I knew this couldn't be good. My regular appointment with Margaret wasn't set for another two weeks. This had to be part of Jennifer's new campaign. Reluctantly, I got dressed in a suitable outfit--a knee-length skirt, sensible heels and a blouse--and we drove downtown to Margaret's salon.
Margaret had begun specializing in the feminization of males long before Jennifer had met her--but Jennifer's hypnotic techniques and recruitment of other women into her circle of lovers of "male lesbians" had so increased that end of the salon's business that Margaret had virtually turned the place into a transformation workshop.
Most of the staff were sissified men, some more obvious than others, although Margaret herself insisted on handling her most valued clientele. Jennifer and I were definitely in that category. She greeted us warmly as we entered.
"Darlings! Wonderful to see you again!" She eyed me carefully. "No petticoats this morning, Dani love? Nothing the least bit fetishist?" I shivered. She knows all about this, I thought. She's in on it.
"You'd better get her prepared," Margaret said to Jennifer.
"Dani, look at me," she ordered, and I turned to stare into her eyes. "Sleep," she said, and I fell into a trance, but one in which I was allowed to recall her instructions. "Until I say the words, Look at yourself, Fetish Sissy Dani, you will have no awareness of what is happening to you. You will hear instructions, you will follow them, but you will not feel the ministrations of Margaret and her staff, you will not see the results of their efforts, until you hear those words. Do you understand?"
"Good. Now awake and be a good girl."
Instantly, it was if I lived in a strange, tunnel-like world. I could only hear Margaret's or her staff's voices when they were directed at me. Looking in the mirror across from the salon chair was like looking at a vampire's reflection--there was a blank spot where I ought to be. This went on for several hours, my only awareness being that their efforts were centered around my head and face.
Finally, they instructed me to stand, then to move various parts of my body. I knew they must be dressing me in some special way, some way that Jennifer wanted kept a secret.
At last they stood me before a full-length mirror, a mirror that still reflected--to me--nothing of my own image. "Look at yourself, Fetish Sissy Dani, " Jennifer said, and it was as if a slide projector suddenly shown an image on the mirror.
There I was, but it was a version of myself I barely recognized. My makeup was the strongest and most bizarre it had ever been. My lips were a deep crimson, my eyes accented in the smokiest purples, my brows shaved and redrawn into extreme arches, my cheeks glowing with an almost doll-like blush. A pair of large gold hoop earrings descended from my ears.
And above it all, my head gleamed. My shaved head!
I was dressed in a black leather suit, with a long hobble skirt atop six-inch heels. It was the ultimate fetish image and, despite everything, I felt my cock react to it. Clearly, Jennifer knew what that reaction would be.
As my expression changed to one of unrelieved lust, she announced, "Happy anniversary, Fetish Sissy Dani!" And I collapsed with the most powerful orgasm of my transformed life!
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Crowning Glory, Part Four
Just thirty minutes later, Alice left the plane, escorted by Jessica and Amber. After picking up their luggage, the three got into a cab. Just as Alice was about to give the driver Alex's address, Jessica whispered, "Crowning glory," and the transformed man dropped back into a hypnotic trance.
He awoke in a strange apartment, decorated with a wide array of art and artifacts, all of which were clearly related to sexual domination and role-playing. He tried to stand up and discovered his body wouldn't move.
"Stop struggling," Jessica's voice said from behind him. "You'll hurt yourself."
She moved out in front of him. She was truly dressed like a domme now, in a skin-tight, shiny grey latex gown. It had a high collar and no sleeves, and the way it clung to her every curve made it clear that she wore nothing underneath it. Her hair was piled into a bun and her face was artfully made up. She gestured with the whip she carried. "You're not physically bound, of course," she told him, "but I've given you a post-hypnotic suggestion that you cannot move as long as you look masculine. We stripped you of your little cocktease outfit as soon as we got you here."
"We?" Alex asked.
In answer, Jessica picked up a small bell from the table and rang it. Alex heard some unusual footsteps and then saw Amber mince into the room. She wore a latex bustier and a clear plastic skirt over her latex thong panties. Her arms were bound behind her. She wore a collar that supported a tray that hung by chains in front of her, with a glass of white wine on it.
"Very good, Amber," Jessica said, as she picked up the wine and sipped. "Is everything prepared in the bedroom?"
"Yes, mistress," the bond maid replied.
"Good. Crowning glory." And Alex sank again into unawareness.
Alex awoke, seated on a very delicate vanity chair. He discovered he could move again and when he looked down, he could see why-outwardly, he was Alice once again. He was dressed in a skintight black latex minidress, nylons and black patent pumps with six-inch heels. He couldn't see his face, because the chair was turned away from the mirror.
Just as he was about to turn and look at himself, Jessica stepped in front of him and said, "Uhh-uhh, pretty boy. Not 'til I say you're ready." For the fourth time, she took out a wig box and placed the contents on his head. This time it was a short page-boy, as black as any hair Alex had ever seen, with shining straight bangs and a slight flip at the sides.
"Dominatrix," Jessica said, and a flood of instructions and ideas raged into Alex's mind. Once again, he was Alice--but an Alice completely different from any of the personas who had preceded this one.
"Now you may look," Jessica said. And Alice turned to the mirror, to find her makeup darker and more dramatic than anything she'd worn before, and her eyes a brilliant blue, certain to catch the eye of anyone--male or female--who saw them. "Stand up."
Alice rose. Jessica produced a cigarette holder and a slim women's cigarette. She lit the cigarette and handed the holder to Alice. "Take a drag."
Alice inhaled the hot smoke and a new wave of hypnotic instructions arose in her. "You are dominant over all men and women who submit to you; you long to control them and use them as your playthings. But there is one woman and one woman alone to whom you submit…and that is me, your Mistress Jessica." She breathed in more smoke. "Every puff of smoke you breathe increases your dominant nature. You crave smoking to make you ever more powerful and dominant."
"Amber!" the newly dominant Alice demanded. Instantly, the maid minced into the room.
"Yes, Mistress Alice?" she asked.
"Fetch my cloak and Mistress Jessica's. Find something suitable for yourself-we're going hunting!" Alice grinned and exhaled a long plume of smoke.
One hour later, the three fetish-clad women were seated around a table at The Wall, the premier S/M club in the city…a place Alex had often thought about visiting and now Alice would make her own. Only moments after their arrival, a slight but handsome young man had appeared, bearing drinks for all of them, but clearly most intrigued by Alice.
She noted that his eyes frequently drifted to her long legs perched on the glimmering patent pumps with the extreme heels. "You like my legs?" she asked.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Or do you like my feet?"
"Those too," he admitted.
"Or is it my shoes?" she demanded.
"Oh, yes…." he sighed, as she watched his crotch twitch at the thought.
Alice extended one foot and said, "Well, I think they need shining…spit on that napkin and shine them up for me!" The would-be slave dropped to his knees and began the task. "Look at me!" Alice suddenly demanded.
He looked up--the spotlight over the table caught the startling color of Alice's eyes and the lad found himself lost in them and in the repetitive nature of his task. In time, his hands dropped to his sides. He was completely in Alice's mesmeric spell.
"Wonderful!" Jessica applauded. "I've never seen anyone take to this so easily!" She indicated the still-kneeling young man. "What are you going to do with him?"
"Why, train him and transform him, as you did me," Alice answered.
"What will his key-words be?" Amber asked.
"Listen," Alice replied. She spoke to the boy. "You love my shoes, you worship my shoes, you long to wear shoes just like mine at all times. In a moment, I will snap my fingers and you will awaken, remembering my suggestions to you. But there's a phrase that will return you to this pleasant, arousing state.
"That phrase is: Shoe store!"
And the life of another feminized slave was about to begin!
Monday, November 5, 2007
Happy Guy Fawkes Day!
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Crowning Glory, Part Three
Alex was surprised-and, yes, slightly disappointed-when he didn't hear from Mistress Jessica in the weeks before the next sales meeting. He was even more disappointed when the entire meeting went by without his seeing or hearing anything of the stunning dominatrix or her voluptuous little slave.
Have they lost interest in me? he thought. Had their fun, introducing me to their kinky little world, and now they're done? Discouraged, he packed his suitcase, checked out of the hotel and headed for the airport.
Standing in line at the taxi stand, a familiar voice spoke from behind him: "Crowning glory." All thought left Alex's head as he fell once again under the spell of his Mistress Jessica. "Turn around," she ordered.
He did as she requested, and there she stood, looking business-like yet still dominant in a black suit with a pencil-thin skirt, gloves, pumps with five-inch heels and holding an elegant hat. Amber stood just behind her, a marked contrast to the all-business Jessica, wearing a teeny little sundress with a red flower print and holding a handbag to match. She balanced on platform sandals with six-inch heels. The sight of them, even in the midst of his trance, caused Alex's cock to rise.
Jessica noticed the bulge in his pants and brushed it with the brim of her hat. "I thought anticipation and a little disappointment would be good for you," she laughed. "Now, come, my car is already waiting to take us all to the airport."
Obediently (as if he had any other choice!), Alex followed them to the limousine. The trip to the airport was silent. Not another word was spoken until they got out of the limo. "Amber--go pick up all our tickets. Alice, come with me to the executive lounge!" At the entrance to that VIP enclave, Jessica showed her pass and escorted the mesmerized Alex to the changing rooms available for weary first-class passengers. In a few moments, Amber joined them with an overnight bag.
"Oh, good, here's your new look, Alice!" Jessica exclaimed. She opened the bag and took out a selection of feminine articles-a push-up bra, thong panties, crotchless pantihose, and more. Quickly, she ordered Alex to strip and began helping him into these sexy dainties. They were followed by a denim skirt with a white lace trim, a denim halter top exposing bare midriff and a pair of red shoes with ankle straps and six-inch heels.
"Sit," she ordered and began to transform Alex's male features into the sensuous face of Alice. The usual eyebrow plucking, eyeshadow and liner, mascara, blush and lipstick followed…but this time, something new was added. "Open your eyes wide, Alice," Jessica said, and she popped a pair of contact lenses into his eyes, turning their usual light brown to an intriguing, eye-catching green.
"And now the final touch!" She turned Alice to face the mirror, so she could get the full effect. From out of the always-present wig box came a cascade of auburn curls. She settled it on her hypnotized slave's head and carefully secured it. The red-brown waves tumbled over her shoulders and across her ersatz breasts, framing her newly green eyes perfectly.
With the addition of the wig and the snap of Jessica's fingers, a flood of instructions rushed into Alice's mind: "Now you are Alice the cocktease. You delight in offering men all the pleasures of your body, but always holding off the one thing they really want. The sight of a man's bulging crotch arouses you--the bigger, the more obvious, the longer you can keep him that way, the better."
Alice stood and strutted about the changing room. "I love this, Mistress Jessica! Is this feeling of power something all women have?"
"No-only the most beautiful, and those who are aware of their sexuality and are unafraid to use it to control others," Jessica replied. "Amber feels it only occasionally, when I permit her to humiliate herself by leading on some man. You will feel it only when I permit it, as well." She looked at her watch. "Now, hurry! We have a plane to catch!"
We? thought Alex, deep inside Alice's enticing form. We're traveling together? You mean, after all this time, Mistress Jessica and I have been living in the same city?
The three beauties strolled down the airport concourse, Alice thrilling at the lustful stairs she got from nearly every male. She flirted shamelessly, licking her lips, sucking her finger, shaking her hips more erotically as she felt male eyes follow her curvaceous bottom. They reached the gate just as first-class boarding was called.
"That's us, girls," Jessica announced. "Come along."
Jessica and Amber took seats side-by-side near the rear of first class, while Alice looked carefully at her seat number. "Oh, Alice," Jessica said, nonchalantly. "Don't forget your crowning glory-you know what to do!"
Another set of instructions rose within Alice's mind: "You are to use your abilities to arouse and entice your seat mate. You will do everything you can to give him an erection-you may talk sexily, act sexily, you may even fondle yourself and him…but you may not touch his privates, even through clothing. Every minute of his arousal will arouse you as well…but you will only be able to come when he comes!"
Finally, Alice saw her seat--next to a handsome middle-aged man in a well-tailored expensive business suit. Sticking her little finger girlishly in her mouth, she cooed, "Oh, dear, I guess I'll be your traveling companion!" She held out her hand in a limp-wristed gesture. "Hi," she giggled. "I'm Alice!"
"Hi," he answered, smiling. "Larry."
Alice snuggled into her seat, wriggling and squirming so that her already short denim skirt rose higher. She watched Larry's eyes focus on her smooth nyloned thighs and glanced over to see a subtle twitch at his crotch. My god! Alex thought. I can't help myself! I'm going to make this guy a sexual wreck by the time we land!
Jessica and Amber watched and laughed quietly as Alice continued her flirtatious seduction of the hapless Larry. "I'm thinking of having my entire body waxed," Alice told him in her breathy voice, "even my crotch!" She saw his eyes widen and his crotch bulge a little more. "Oh, did that shock you?" She moved her hands over her own body, playing with breasts, swishing her ass in the seat. "I just love a nice smooth body, don't you?"
Before the flight was half-over, Larry and Alice were snuggled together, his hands resting on her rounded bottom, hers playing sensuously with his nipples through his shirt…but every attempt to guide her hands to his crotch was fended off. Soon, Alice thought he was on the verge of coming…and knew she was…so she leaned on top of him, rubbed her breasts against his chest and kissed him, thrusting her tongue deep within his mouth. She felt, finally, the power of his orgasm and completion of her own arousal. And then, the final hidden part of Jessica's hypnotic commands took hold. She broke off the kiss, and whispered in his ear, "I'm a guy!"
More to come
Friday, October 26, 2007
Crowning Glory, Part Two
"You've got mail." Alex immediately opened his e-mail reader when that message came from his computer and was a little shocked to find a note from Mistress Jessica:
The next quarterly sales meeting is in two weeks. Amber and I will be there. We expect Alice to join us. Download the attached file for your instructions.
Alex's curiosity got the better of him. He downloaded the file as requested and discovered it was a sound file. He activated it and heard Mistress Jessica's voice:
That was the last thing he heard consciously, although the file continued for some time. Alex became aware several hours later, still sitting before the computer...but he discovered his right hand firmly around his erect cock and his left hand tweaking his sensitive nipples.
The two weeks until he left for the meeting were a strange time for Alex. He had periodic "black-outs" after which he would find himself at home with packages from various department stores and boutiques stacked up in his apartment. Oddly, he found himself completely unable to open any of them. More oddly, three days before the meeting, he felt compelled to have the entire collection shipped to his hotel room.
Alex arrived at the sales meeting quite confused. He had slept fitfully on the plane, his sleep filled with odd dreams of himself in full female regalia, strutting shamelessly beside Jessica and enjoying the sexual pleasures of both women, enthralled to Jessica and commanding Amber just as her lesbian dominatrix did. What the hell is going on? he thought. Well, I know one thing for sure--I'm going to avoid those two while I'm here!
He checked into the hotel and was informed by the desk clerk that all the packages he had sent had arrived safely and had been placed in his room. No matter, Alex decided. I'll just leave them here. The hotel can donate them or something when I don't take them with me. He let the bellhop take his bags up and went to the bar for a drink.
His back was to the door, when he felt someone approach him from behind. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to face the stunning Jessica, clad in a black leather business suit. He glared.
"You don't look pleased to see me, dearest," Jessica pouted. "Well, that will change." She looked him straight in the eye. "Crowning glory."
Alex dropped into a trance state. "Have you followed my instructions?" Jessica asked.
"Yes, mistress," he replied. "All the packages are safely in my room."
"Excellent. I'll call Amber and have her meet us there," Jessica said. "Now, come along--and let me see you practice that little hip swing I taught you last time."
Jessica let Alex lead the way, laughing inwardly as she watched his hips sway in a feminine manner, his hands carried away from his side, limp-wristed, as a caricature of femininity.
With all three in the room, Amber began unpacking the boxes, laying out a spectacular collection of dresses, gowns and lingerie acquired by Alex in his entranced shopping trips. One box she took special care with, a wig box. She handed it to Jessica, who stood beside Alex, now mesmerized before the dressing table mirror.
Jessica started to transform Alex into a feminine beauty once more. She artfully made up his eyes, cheeks and lips, and attached a pair of large, chandelier-like earrings to his lobes. Then she carefully opened the wig box and placed its contents on his head.
"Look at yourself, Alex," she commanded. "See the gorgeous red curls that surround your sultry features. Look at the way those earrings glint in the light. Sophisticated lady!
"Who are you?"
Alex gasped as the instructions from the computer message of two weeks past flooded back into his mind. "I am Alice, the sophisticated young dominatrix you are training. I am a male lesbian, completely submissive to you, my Mistress Jessica, but dominant over all others, especially Amber, our shared slave."
Amber looked over and smiled sweetly at this mention of her name and her status.
"Very good," Jessica complimented her refound toy.
Alice awoke from the trance. "Amber, help me into my gown!" she ordered. "We have a party to attend!"
Moments later, Alice was a vision of high fashion in a black gown with a long, straight skirt, black wrist-length gloves and black satin pumps with five-inch heels. As Amber had dressed the transformed male, Jessica had also changed: She wore a red spandex gown with an oval keyhole over her cleavage, marking her as sexual creature of high allure.
"Hurry, Amber!" Jessica demanded. "We have only a half-hour left!" Quickly the voluptuous little sub got into her own party outfit--a virginal gown featuring tiers of white lace, belying her reality as an experienced sexual slave--and the trio left for the formal occasion.
The affair was held in a private club on the far side of town. On the outside, it appeared to be one of a set of expensive townhouses in the most high-toned part of town. Even the brass plaque with the club's name spoke of old money and power...but the name said it all: "Club Lesbos".
A giggly young thing in a traditional French maid's uniform answered the door and took the group's coats. She escorted Jessica, Amber and Alice to the main ballroom, which was filled with women in elegant evening garb. Alice gasped. They're all women, dancing with each other, kissing, hugging...and several seem to be doing even more. Her attention was caught by a young woman in leather. Is she bound?
Jessica smiled at Alice's confusion. "Yes, darling, there are no men here...at least none in the usual sense. Several of the submissives you see are male lesbians like yourself--men transformed into beautiful feminine playthings for their mistresses. And, yes, open displays of feminine affection and even dominant and submissive activity are quite normal at these affairs."
With her switchable personality in control, Alice soon fell into the swing of things at Club Lesbos--submitting to Jessica and to any other woman her mistress approved, dominating Amber and the slaves of the other true dominants.
As the evening drew to a close, Jessica turned to Alice and said, "It's time for your reward, my darling." She spread her legs and directed Alice beneath the spandex of her skirt, where the boy-girl discovered a naked, tempting pussy. She knew her part, burying her face into the mistress's sex. At the same time, Jessica directed Amber between Alice's legs, and the sub again placed her own lips around Alice's sissy-cock.
The remaining club members gasped in awe and shock. "She's a male lesbian!" came several cries! None of them had realized Alice's secret until now. Jessica smiled, knowing her techniques in creating slaves, both male and female, had passed a crucial test.
She felt her own orgasm near its peak and knew that Alice must be close as well. "Alice," she gasped, "you will come upon hearing the code phrase…and you will also become Alex once again. Alex will have the most explosive orgasm of his life as he feels the combined delight and humiliation of his exposure!"
Jessica's body stiffened with her coming and she cried, "Sophisticated lady!"
Alice dropped back from her service of Jessica's sex as she felt her sissy-cock surge and fill Amber's mouth. Oh my god! Alex thought. Look what she's got me doing-- and he smiled through his smeared lipstick--and how much I'm loving it!
More to come
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tranny In Trouble and the Institute for Cross-dressing Punishment.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Crowning Glory, Part One
Prologue: The Package
Alex unlocked the hotel room door, loosened his tie and prepared to collapse on the bed. Instead, he nearly tripped over a box placed just inside the door. A note was attached. "Mr. Barrow--This package was sent to the hotel with your room number as the only internal address. I had housekeeping deliver it when they made up the room this morning." It was signed by the concierge.
I wasn't expecting a package, Alex thought as he carried it to the bed. What could it be? He carefully opened the wrapping and found what seemed to be some sort of hat box. He lifted the lid and found a long blonde woman's wig with soft waves that fell to a shoulder length. "What the hell--" he muttered, as he lifted the wig on its stand out of the box, and discovered, beneath it, a video tape and a note:
Wear the wig; watch the video
He set the whole package aside and pondered. Some kind of a gag by a colleague? It was possible. He was in town for a sales convention and his co-workers and competitors--all friends to some extent--loved to play tricks on one another. Oh, hell, he decided, I'll go get some dinner, then come back and play along with the joke. I'll probably start to watch the video and find some kind of gag tape or something.
An hour later, having eaten, Alex stood before the mirror in his room, carefully placing the extremely feminine wig on his head. He placed the video in the VCR, then settled on the bed, with the pillows propped up behind him, hit the play button and settled in to enjoy the gag.
The tape seemed to be some sort of women's cosmetic, hair and grooming course, and he was sure it would be interrupted by a home-made section from a fellow salesman...but before any of that could happen, he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He hadn't really felt that sleepy when he started, but something seemed to make him want to close his eyes and relax. Within 10 minutes of the beginning of the tape, Alex was--to outside eyes--completely unaware of his surroundings.
Unaware, that is, until a knock on the room door brought him out of it. The sunlight streaming through the drapes told him it was morning already. My god, he thought, I slept straight through? That's probably one of the jokesters now.
He went to the door and opened it, to be confronted by a strikingly beautiful brunette in a black silk dress, dark hose and six-inch heels. "Hello," she said, smiling and even giggling a bit, "I'm Jessica. I think I accidentally sent a package to this room by mistake. It should have gone to the room directly above."
"Oh...oh!" Alex said, surprised. "I'm afraid I opened it. I thought it was some kind of gag from a colleague and I followed the instructions in the note."
"So I see," Jessica answered, her eyes straying to the top of Alex's head. Suddenly, he was aware that he was still wearing the wig. "Did you watch the video, too?"
"Yes," he said, "although I don't seem to remember much of it."
"I bet you remember the parts that count," Jessica replied. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "Crowning glory!"
Chapter One: Sweet Young Thing
Alex's eyelids fluttered and he awoke. He was sitting at the desk in his hotel room--No, not my room, he realized. In mine, the door is to the left of the bed.
"Welcome back, Alice dear." The voice came from the door to the adjoining room. Alex turned and saw the mysterious Jessica standing there.
"How did I get here?" Alex asked. "I assume this is your room?"
"No, this room belongs to my lover, Amber," Jessica answered. "I'm in the room next door, Alice."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" he demanded. "My name is Alex."
"Is it?" Jessica asked, grinning. "You don't look much like an 'Alex'."
"What are you talking about?"
Jessica moved closer to him. "Oh, that's right, I haven't let you be aware of the changes we've made, have I?" Again, she looked him in the eye. "Sweet young thing."
Instantly, Alex was aware of the way he was dressed-in a light-colored checked dress with a full petticoat and puffy white sleeves. He had on nylon stockings, held up by a waist-restricting garter belt; in fact, he was wearing a full set of lingerie, including a bra that gave him a 36C bustline. He was perched on white calf pumps with four-inch heels and even his hands were encased in white kid gloves. He looked in the mirror--he still wore the ultra-feminine blonde wig and now his face had been artfully feminized with a full complement of cosmetics: eyeshadow, mascara, blush, lipstick. He, indeed, looked like a "sweet young thing."
That sight of himself was the final trigger. Alex felt his normal self fade away, to be replaced by another person--Alice. Alice, lesbian slave and lover to Jessica; Alice, who would be anything Jessica wanted her to be; Alice, who would change personas as she changed hairstyles and clothes.
Jessica smiled as she watched the change come over her new plaything. "That package you found was intended for Amber. She's been my lesbian love slave for several years and we've used many variations of such hypnotic control devices in that time. When I realized it had been misdelivered, I thought it would be just a slight delay in our plans...but you're finding it gives this week an entirely new meaning.
"You see, Amber and I are traveling salespeople just like you,"she continued. "We meet three or four times a year at sales meetings like this one and have our kinky little get-togethers on the company dime. Now, you can join us."
There was a knock at the door. "Answer it, Alice darling. It's probably Amber."
Alice walked to the door, teetering slightly on the unfamiliar heels, and opened it. In the corridor was a petite blonde with a spectacular figure, undisguised by the skintight spandex dress she wore. "Wow! Is this Alice? She dresses up nice, Mistress!"
"Come in, Amber," Jessica ordered. "Yes, she is lovely, isn't she? I don't regret not seeing you as this virginal delight now at all." She glanced at her watch. "We'd better get going. We have a shopping trip to get in before our lunch reservation at two." She turned to Alice. "You'll find a suitable wrap in the closet, dearest."
Go out in public, looking like this? Deep within the Alice exterior, unable to voice his protests, Alex shuddered at the thought. Everyone will know, won't they? Aloud, in a breathy voice, Alice replied, "Of course, Mistress," as she pulled the crocheted shawl out of the closet.
Three hours later, after scouring the most expensive stores in the city to find more girlish dresses for Alice--all put on Alex's expense account, for the maximum of embarrassment--the three attractive women were sitting in one of the poshest restaurants in the city. Diners of both sexes observed them with mixed feelings of lust and envy.
They ate sparingly, though expensively. Jessica and Amber sat close to Alice on each side, teasing and playing with their new toy. One would surreptitiously brush Alice's thighs, while the other whispered sexy suggestions in her ear.
"Alice, why don't we go to the ladies' room and get rid of those panties?" Jessica cooed, as Amber reached under her skirt and pettis to stroke the boy-girl's cock through her satin undies.
His cock twitched and Alice squirmed. "Ooooh, she liked that idea, Mistress!" Amber reported.
Jessica placed her palm lightly on Alice's cheek and turned her face. Then she took Alice's face in her hands and deeply kissed her. "Like to have me work on your sissy-cock while Mistress did that?" Amber asked. Alice blushed, visible even through her makeup.
With lunch over, Jessica ordered both of her slaves to follow her to the ladies' room. It had a large changing room attached, and the mistress led them to it, locking the door behind her.
"Amber, on your knees and get those panties off little Alice," she demanded. The voluptuous lesbian did as ordered. "Now, suck that sissy-cock." Amber's full red lips surrounded Alice's member. Jessica again thrust her tongue deep into Alice's lipsticked mouth, the combination bringing Alice to a raging hard-on.
"She's going to come!" Amber announced.
"Not until I say so!" Jessica commanded. "Alice, you can come when I tell you...and I'll tell you by saying sweet young thing. Understand?" Caught up in her lust, Alice could only grunt and nod her head in reply. "Good." Jessica directed her attention to Amber, "Keep at it, sweetheart." Amber redoubled her efforts on Alice's cock, while Jessica reached under the back of the boy-girl's skirt and pettis and began to play with her sissy-pussy.
The power of the impending orgasm was becoming unbearable for Alice. Jessica finally thrust her fingers into her sissy-pussy and said, "The next time we get together, Alice won't be such a sweet young thing!"
And Alice came, the most powerful orgasm the salesperson could ever remember having.
More to come
Monday, October 15, 2007
Reluctant Prom Queen, Conclusion
Part Three: Queen for a Day?
Sam spent the afternoon as Samantha at Liz's house, practicing for his "debut" at the prom later that month. He go home just before dinner, expecting his father to have gotten home and to swiftly put an end to all this ridiculous feminizing.
"Your dad's flight was delayed," Mrs. Wilson explained, when Sam asked. "I don't expect him in before midnight at the earliest," she continued.
Sam shrugged, still certain his father would not let all the changes go on a moment later. His mother raised her eyebrows and smiled secretively at Margaret.
Sam was up and out to school before his father was awake, apparently, because Sam saw nothing of the elder Wilson male the next morning. School was still abuzz about the mystery prom queen candidate, and Sam pretended the same interest, all the while hoping nobody took a real close look at that photo on the bulletin board. Fortunately, he didn't see Liz or his sister all day, so he was seemingly rescued from another afternoon as Samantha.
He burst in the door and called out, "Dad?" He wanted to get all this cleared up as quickly as possible. There was no answer. He began to explore the house and went up to his parents' room. There he was greeted by an unfamiliar sight: An attractive brunette woman, clad in a classic maid's outfit, was bent over the nightstand, dusting it--presenting a lovely picture of her long, black-nyloned legs on their black patent heels, and of her pert, pantied bottom.
"Hello? Who are you?" Sam asked.
The woman turned her head toward him and smiled. "Why, good afternoon, Miss Samantha. Welcome home!"
Sam gasped. The "maid" was his father. "She's quite lovely, isn't she, Samantha?" The boy turned to discover his mother, his sister, and his transformed little brother in the hall behind him.
"Mom! How could you do this? How did you do this?" Sam blurted.
"Daddy was never delayed," Margaret replied. "His plane landed just when it was supposed to--but right after you left Liz's house yesterday, Mom sent him over. We worked our 'magic' on her and here's Belinda, our lovely servant!" Sam was non-plussed; his father's name was Bill.
"I don't believe this!" he cried out.
"Believe it, brother," Margaret countered. "Here, I'll prove it to you." She spoke to the maid: "Belinda, Bill's home."
Immediately, a change came over the vision in satin and lace. Her feminine movements became awkward and she stumbled on her spike heels. "Carol, what's the meaning of this? Why have you gone along with Margaret and Liz's mad scheme?"
"Let's just say Margaret and I were tired of living in a home where we were outnumbered three to two. We've decided an all female household is a much more pleasant experience," his wife replied. "Belinda's the maid." Instantly, the transformed husband's ability to imitate femininity returned. Mrs. Wilson turned to her son. "Satisfied? There's no way out for you, now, Samantha, dear."
Margaret walked up to her twin brother, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "Prom sissy." And the protests forming on Sam's lips died without receiving breath.
Two weeks later, Sam joined his sister and Liz at a local beauty salon for their pre-prom makeovers. The salon staff had been let in on the secret of Samantha, and girls decided to let Sam have the "joy" of experiencing the makeover in his male persona. When told of their plans, Sam could merely groan. He knew the situation was far outside his control.
Margaret and Liz had insisted that he let his hair grow over the six weeks since their plan had been set in motion and it was now long enough for a sophisticated style without a wig. The final look, after much rolling and spraying and drying, was a shoulder-length page boy, with a red flower perched in the front. His makeup was done dramatically, even more impressive than the glamour job that had so impressed his classmates.
The salon staff had even agreed to help in dressing him, so that the real girls could concentrate on their own prom appearance. Stripped to nudity, Sam's prom wear started with white satin panties, followed by a matching corset, laced to the tightest he'd experienced in his short time as a transvestite--whittling his waist down to a mere 22 inches. Sheer nude stocking were attached to the garters of the corset and a well-padded bra was wrapped around his chest, expanding his faux bosom to an eye-catching 36C.
Now came the dress, so white, lacy and virginal it might be mistaken for a wedding gown. It fell nearly to the floor, giving just a peek at his well-turned ankles. The salon staff placed his feet in white satin pumps with four-inch heels, and draped a retro strand of long pearls around his neck.
"When do I get to see what Liz and Margaret are wearing?" he asked. "At the prom, and not before," the salon owner said, grinning. "We're even sending you in a separate car."
True to their word, they bustled the lace-bedecked boy out into a waiting limousine. Sam saw another identical car parked behind his, and thought he spotted two dark images climb in as well.
Moments later, the limos pulled up in front of the country club, site of Ridley High's prom. The driver opened Sam's door and said, "They want you to go over to the other car, now." Realizing he still had no choice, Sam minced over to the rear passenger door of the other limo. The tinted window rolled down just a crack and Margaret's voice was heard: "Prom sissy."
Sam's fears and worries disappeared as Samantha, the aspiring prom queen, took over his body. The limo driver opened the doors and Samantha's cohorts stepped lightly from their carriage. "Walk with us, Samantha," Liz commanded and the three entered the country club hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to be announced.
"The mystery queen candidate, Samantha, with her court, Liz Carpenter and Margaret Wilson," the announcer cried, and all eyes on the dance floor turned to the trio in the entrance.
They made quite a sight: Samantha in her virginal white lace was flanked on the left by Liz, who wore a figure-hugging black leather gown with a keyhole over her ample cleavage, a slit up the side, and matching patent-leather platform sandals. Her black hair had been frizzed and permed into a mane that declared her dominance.
One the right was Margaret: Her hair, every bit as coppery red as her "sister's," was piled on her head. She, too, was in black--but it was a stunning column gown with bare shoulders and a slit skirt that revealed her matching formal sandals. It was all accented with elbow length black satin gloves.
The assembled teens applauded. The election of prom queen was a foregone conclusion-- Samantha was the winner. But with Sam apparently nowhere in evidence, there was no prom king that year, so Samantha danced the victory waltz with her "lady-in-waiting," Liz. As they spun around the floor, Margaret cut in and asked, "OK. You've got your queen, where's mine?"
Liz stopped for a moment and eyed the tuxedo-clad boys staring at the three beauties. She waved her hand in a circle, indicating them. "See one you like?" She grinned, as Margaret surveyed the crowd like a tiger picking its prey from the herd.
Friday, October 12, 2007
More Dani at Prissy's Sissies
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
No new poll immediately. I'm working on some stuff that has to take precedence for now.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Reluctant Prom Queen, Part Two
Sam nearly dropped the phone as he looked down at himself, still clad in the green dress and heels. Sudden realization of all that his sister and her friend had done to him rushed in upon him. "You'll never get away with this, Liz," he bellowed into the phone. "My mother will never stand for it!"
"You might be surprised." Sam whirled at the matter of fact tone of his mother's voice. Mrs. Wilson stood in the doorway, her hands crossed over her bosom, an odd smile on her face. "I've grown tired of putting up with the way you treat your sister and me. This looks like the perfect chance to teach you a lesson, you prom sissy." She grinned.
Sam's demeanor changed again as the Samantha personality took over his body. The breathy voice of the would-be teen queen spoke into the phone, "I have to go now, Liz." he hung up and demurely followed his mother into the living room, where Margaret was waiting.
"What's next, Margaret?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
"Well, we have to get Samantha's picture on the nomination board at school--and we want her to look her best for that," Margaret replied, grinning. "I thought a visit to the glamour photographer tomorrow, for a complete makeover and shooting session, was in order."
"A wonderful idea," the older woman agreed. "Should we prepare your little brother for the trip, too?"
"Oh--definitely...and Samantha can help."
Little brother? Deep within the mind shared with Samantha, Sam's psyche struggled to be felt. They're going to pull this on poor Kenny? He's only 12!
Later that evening, Margaret had arranged everything in the living room. A little of the trance-inducing powder had been placed in Kenny's soda and now the pre-teen boy was sitting, head lolled on his chest, in the most comfortable chair in the room.
Once he was out, Mrs. Wilson escorted Samantha into the room as well, carrying an assortment of Margaret's fanciest clothes. She and her erstwhile son had spent the afternoon in the attic, digging out her daughter's old party dresses and Sunday church clothes.
"I think we'll dress Kenny first...and then make the psychological changes," Margaret advised. "My text books say that often has a stronger effect." The first outfit they tried on the entranced Kenny was a white dress with a matching bolero jacket and hat. They combed and teased his blonde hair to a feminine look, and lightly enhanced his features with blush, mascara and a pink lipstick. Pleased with the look, Margaret decided it was time to add her little brother to the family's distaff side.
"Kenny, can you hear me?"
"Yeesssss," the child slurred in reply.
"Very good. Kenny, I'm going to tell you some things I want you to remember, OK? You must never forget what I'm about to tell you."
"I won't forget, Margaret," he answered.
His sister moved closer to the cross-dressed boy and spoke softly but insistently. "You are dressed as a girl. You love being dressed this way. Has your little thing ever gotten hard when you saw a girl or played with yourself?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Well, being dressed like this makes it harder than it's ever been before. You love that feeling. You crave that feeling. When you're dressed this way, your name is Connie. What's your name?"
"Connie," he replied, smiling slightly.
"Is your little thing hard right now?"
"Harder than it's ever been before," the mesmerized child answered.
"Good," Margaret affirmed. "Now, I'm going to let you wake up in a few moments. But whenever you hear me or Mommy say, 'taffeta rustles,' you will go right back to sleep, waiting for us to tell you what to do. And when we say, Connie cutie,' you will wake back up. Do you understand that?"
"Yes," the boy now named Connie responded. "Taffeta rustles means I go to sleep; Connie cutie means I wake up."
"Very good." Margaret turned to her mother. "He's all set. Even if he ever starts to give us trouble about 'Connie,' we have the advantage of being able to strengthen the suggestion at any time!" Mrs. Wilson grinned in anticipation of never having to deal with another teenaged boy. Her daughter turned back to her erstwhile little brother. "And now it's time to wake up, Connie cutie!"
The pre-teen transvestite fluttered his mascaraed eyelids and a smile spread again on his shiny pink lips. "Oh, Margaret, Mommy--why haven't I ever been Connie before now?" he cried.
"We didn't know you wanted to be, " his mother fibbed. "Just like we didn't know Sam really wanted to be Samantha."
And Samantha, watching all this in frustation, thought, But I don't want to be a girl...and neither does Kenny, really. Where is all this going?
"We're going to have the most beautiful portraits done!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, as she escorted her two new daughters, together with Margaret into Glamour Girls, the photography studio. Samantha and Connie were unable to resist the charms of their sister Margaret's hypnotic skill and willingly accompanied the two real women.
Once there, the studio staff gushed over the beauty of their subjects. The makeup artist was particularly enthralled with the coppery good looks of Samantha's red hair and the woman in charge of wardrobe enthused over Samantha's tall, willowy body. "I just know we can make her absolutely gorgeous!" they cried, almost in unison.
In time they had Samantha's hair in a straight pageboy with just a hint of curl at the ends, her face graced with only the slightest of makeups. Her body was draped in an elegant, dark column gown, its deep colors making the pale glow of her face stand out like a beacon.
Contrastingly, little Connie was in a bright red party outfit, all stripes and bold colors, her shimmering blond curls set off beneath a cute little hat. Completing the picture of childish glamour were a pair of lace-cuffed white anklets worn with red patent-leather Maryjanes.
The afternoon was spent with the two boy-girls posing for hours. Margaret and their mother then spent some time poring over the proof sheets--with Margaret being especially careful to choose just the right shot to go up on the prom court nominations board on Monday morning.
The crowd had gathered around the bulletin board outside the prom planning office. "Who is she?" went the murmur among the girls. "Why can't I find a babe like that?" went the complaint among the boys.
Sam Wilson fought his way through the crowd to stare in disbelief at the picture posted under the heading "Mystery Candidate". There, in all her glory, was Samantha. There was Sam, in the feminine role Margaret and Liz--and now his mother--had forced upon him.
Oh god...what's Dad going to say when he gets back from his business trip? Sam wondered.
More to come
Thursday, October 4, 2007
I've known for many years that I was different from other males, right back to the time when I was about 7 to 10 years old. I used to play with my sister, putting on mum's makeup or playing dress up. I used to love trying on my sister's clothes and shoes--she's two years older, but didn't think anything of it, not at that age anyway. She used to put makeup on me and dress me up. It was a lot of fun. It felt so much better than doing boy's things. Then, as we both entered secondary school and my sister got older, obviously these things stopped--although my feelings didn't change. I would see the girls at school and want to wear what they were wearing--short skirts and blouses--rather than the shirt and pants the boys had to wear. I loved hanging out with the girls...they seemed to have so much more fun talking about clothes and makeup and hairstyles.
My teen years were relatively normal and I did all the boy things--football, rugby, getting drunk, etc. I had plenty of girlfriends and things seemed pretty normal for quite a long time. I left school, got a good job, and hung out with mates, went on lads' holidays and just had a lot of fun. I liked having girlfriends and loved being in a relationship--but I would see a girlfriend wearing a sexy outfit and still wanted to wear it. I looked at her body and wished mine would be the same and that I had breasts and a nice curvy bum. We would go shopping for clothes and I would be looking at things I would like to wear and admiring all the sexy high heels. Women's clothes are so much more exciting than men's, I think.
I carried on through my 20s; nobody had any idea how I felt inside. To my friends, I was a normal outgoing bloke who loved the girls and loved going out. I went to football matches, got drunk, had fights, all the usual stupid things blokes do.
Then when I got to about 28 years old, I decided to buy some clothes off the Internet. My feelings were getting too strong to quash. I ordered a skirt and blouse, along with some knickers, bra, and heels. I couldn't wait for them to arrive and when I put them all on, it felt fantastic! It just felt right! I experimented with makeup and practised applying it. This went on for a couple of years--I bought bits of clothing along the way while still trying to suppress my feelings. I had also discovered I had a deeply submissive side and I was exploring that too.
At the age of about 30, I made the decision to act on my feelings and try to find similar people--hopefully someone that could help transform me into the person I wanted to be. Around this time I met Mistress Amber. I replied to an ad for a submissive sissy looking for training and it was the best thing I did. Just being able to talk to someone about my feelings was great and she helped me realise I could become the person I wanted to be.
I knew that given a choice I would be a sexy bimbo with big breasts and ass and Mistress Amber convinced me it was possible. From the off, she told me to buy certain items of clothing and large breast forms. They felt amazing when I put them on! She explained that eventually I would be bigger than that in real life and would be her bimbo slut. We talked all the time and she would give me tasks to do--whether it be practising makeup, walking in heels, posing for pics. It all felt great! By now I knew I would never be really happy until I became the person I felt I was meant to be. Mistress Amber explained how far she wanted to take me and asked me if I was comfortable with this. Obviously I was, and so then we talked about surgery and body shaping and also hormones.
This takes me to the present day. At the moment I feel far more comfortable in a dress and heels than in male clothing. I just love tottering about the house--they make my legs look far more shapely. I wear female underwear almost permanently now and dress as often as possible. I am not remotely interested in male clothing and just love buying skirts,and tops, heels, etc. Mistress Amber has talked about me joining her in the USA...this is something I want a great deal! There I can have surgery with her guidance and finally become the bimbo I am meant to be. She introduced me to hypnosis and this has strengthened my desires a great deal.
I think the hypnosis Mistress Amber has done with me has really strengthened my desire to change and become the bimbo I want to be. I think the desire has to be there already to a degree and you have to want the changes hypnosis is telling you. She gave me a series of mantras to say to myself while listening to subliminal recordings. She also gave me mp3's to listen to--various ones such as how to be a diva or a whore. It takes a while to be able to trance and see yourself and really believe you are becoming the person you want to be.
I have found that all the desires I had have become much stronger--for example I wear female underwear almost all the time now. It doesn't feel right without it. As soon as I get home from work, I change into female clothing and heels. This is when and how I feel comfortable. In addition, the desire for sexual activity has become unbearable and, as a result, I have decided to date some men I have met. The only thing I can focus on is the person I want to become, then I believe I will be really happy and content. I continue to use the hypnosis mp3's and strengthen my desires and will.
Mistress Amber also introduced me to Dani who is a genius at altering images--this has given me a clear vision of what I want to become. I have just received my first batch of hormones and I am excited about the changes I will experience. I also want some sexual experience with men. This will be a big step for me, but it's something I want a lot. To be totally feminised and live in the USA with Mistress Amber is the dream I want, to have her guidance in person would be great. I can't wait for the day when I come round from surgery and see my huge breasts for the first time--it will be amazing! When I'm all finished I will be the bimbo I always wanted to be walking down the street with huge tits and ass with big lips and long hair! I will finally be Mistress Amber's bimbo whore--transformed by her and owned by her! My love and loyalty will be there for ever!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Playing with Paperdolls
I found this delightful book on remainder at Borders. It was, as you can see from the price tag, just six bucks. FTR, it's Fashion Parade Paper Dolls by Tom Tierney, Dover Publications, ISBN13: 978-0-486-46323-0, ISBN10: 0-486-46323-0
I'm currently scanning in the whole set, for use in playing with illos and captions for A Bimbo's Sanctuary. Here's a sample of the styles from the '60s:
Monday, October 1, 2007
Reluctant Prom Queen, Part One
A Sisterly Conspiracy
"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth shouted angrily. She was looking at the list of candidates for Ridley High's prom queen--and her name was on it. She'd be the first to admit she was among the prettiest and most popular girls in the school, but she was also an ardent feminist who considered the whole prom queen competition a frivolous and sexist routine.
She turned to her friend, Margaret. "You know who's behind this, don't you?" Margaret advised. "My twin brother, Sam. He's never forgiven you for walking out on him at the homecoming dance when you were both chosen as king and queen. He knows he's a shoo-in for prom king...and he wants to force you to be at his side."
Elizabeth nodded, her brown curls bouncing. An idea was forming in her calculating mind. She studied Margaret's features, the red hair and freckles so like her brother's. "Hmmm," she started, "are the nominations closed yet?"
"No, they won't actually hold the voting until the prom itself, you know that," Margaret replied. "What cunning little plan are you cooking up?"
"I need a couple of days to get everything together," Liz answered. "Can you get Sam over to my place on Saturday afternoon?"
"Sure--I'll tell him there's a prom planning meeting. We're all on the committee," Margaret said, wondering just what her friend had in mind.
Precisely at two Saturday afternoon, Margaret and Sam rang Liz's doorbell. Sam's tongue practically hung out of his mouth when the beautiful brunette answered the door in a skin-hugging leather minidress, sheer stockings and six-inch heels, with her face made up in the most sultry of styles. Margaret just grinned at the effect her friend was having on her twin.
Liz got her "guests" seated in the living room, then went to the kitchen for drinks. She returned shortly and made a great fuss making sure that Sam got exactly the drink he had requested. Then she snuggled up next to him on the couch, while Margaret settled bemusedly in an easy chair on the other side of the room.
"So, Sam," Liz began, "I hear you're the one who nominated me for prom queen."
Sam smiled, but shook his head, "Not me, Liz." His words sounded a little slurred and his eyelids were getting heavy.
"You sure about that, brother?" Margaret asked.
"Aaabsooluutellllly." Sam struggled to get the word out and to keep his eyes open. But he failed--he was dead to the world only moments after taking his first few sips of the drugged soda.
"What'd that stuff do to him?" Margaret inquired.
"Oh, it just put him to sleep," Liz answered. "The real changes come now. I've been studying Advanced Placement Psychology this semester, and I've learned a lot about the suggestibility of the human mind. In this state, we can make a lot of alterations in Sam's head...and get him to help with quite a few on his body as well!" she giggled.
She turned to the deeply-breathing young man. "Sam, can you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you." His voice was clear but quiet now.
"I'm going to teach you a few things about yourself. I want you to remember all of them, but only act on them when I say, prom sissy. Do you understand?"
"I'll only use what you teach me when you say, prom sissy," he repeated.
"Very good," Liz said. "Now, listen carefully. Your name is not Samuel, it's Samantha. You're a boy, but a boy who likes to dress like a girl and take orders from girls. Wearing girl's clothes is a terrific sexual thrill for you; it makes your little cock harder than anything else you can imagine, even having sex or masturbating. Even better is being made to wear the clothes that a pretty girl picks out for you.
"You love to wear makeup; you feel naked without it. Your dream is to spend a day at a beauty salon and coming out as the sexiest, most beautiful girl in town.
"Now, I'm going to let you be awake again in a few minutes...but remember, if I say prom sissy, you'll be Samantha, and if I say prom king, you'll be Sam again. Now when I count to five, you'll wake up, you won't remember being unconscious or anything we've done until you hear those special words.
"One." Sam's shoulders moved a little. "Two." His head raised up off his chest. "Three." He took a deep breath. "Four." He stretched his arms. "Five." His eyes opened and he looked around at the girls.
"Well, we going to have a meeting or what?" he asked.
"Sure," Liz responded. "Margaret and I had an idea--how about, in addition to the usual prom court, we had a prom sissy as well?" She watched the change that came over the red-haired boy, as his hands became limp things on the ends of his wrists, as he crossed his legs at the ankles, as he tried to surreptitiously scratch at his now uncomfortable clothing.
"Liz," he asked, his voice quieter and breathier than his usual strong tenor, "do you have a dress I could borrow?"
"Why sure, Samantha," she replied. "By the way, do you think I'm a pretty girl?"
"I think you're just about the prettiest girl in Ridley High, Liz," the entranced boy answered.
"Am I pretty?" Margaret asked as well.
"Nearly as pretty as Liz," he said.
"Well then, Samantha, you should just love wearing anything we pick out for you, right?" Liz suggested.
"I'd love to wear whatever you choose," Samantha answered.
"My god--she's adorable!" Margaret exclaimed. "I had no idea Sam would make such a gorgeous girl!"
The erstwhile big man on campus was dressed in just the first of the several outfits his sister and Elizabeth had prepared for his "debut" as Samantha. It was a skirt and blouse combination, and like all of the outfits it featured a very short hemline, high heels and a feminine hairstyle, created by use of one of the several wigs Margaret kept for her bad hair days. Samantha was posing and primping in front of the full-length mirror in Liz's room.
"You know, I almost think he's falling in love with himself," Margaret whispered to her co-conspirator.
"Good," Liz replied. "That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for."
Within another few hours, they had run him through the rest of the clothes they had lain out: a cropped white top, baring his mid-driff above a very short black skirt; an orange sheath with matching handbag and big, girlish sunglasses; and a flattering green minidress, worn with strappy five-inch heels and a becoming page-boy bob.
"Samantha," Liz beckoned the "girl" to her side. "It's time to go home. I'll call you later."
As the transformed boy gathered the girlish things he now considered his, Liz again conferred with his sister. "You're sure your folks are OK with this?"
"Positive," was her answer. "Dad's away for a few days and Mom's really eager to see what we've done with Sam. She says if it really works she has some plans for my little brother Kenny."
It was seven p.m. The phone rang at Margaret and Sam's house. Their mother picked it up, listened a moment and said, "Samantha--it's for you."
"Hello?" the boy/girl asked, still dressed in the most feminine manner.
At the other end of the line, Liz spoke but two words, "Prom king."
More to come