Silken Tales

by Christina Shelly

  ‘My pretty sissy doll,’ Aunt Anthea then said, as if reading his mind. ‘A toy that mummy and the girls can spend the rest of the weekend playing with. A living baby Barbie!’

  His head fell and a sense of utter defeat spread over his ultra-feminised form.

  ‘Don’t you want to be my pretty sissy doll, Pansy? Isn’t this what you really want? All those days spent pretending to be a boy, showing off, being aggressive, bullying and shouting. It was a total lie...wasn’t it? All the time you secretly dreamed of being a pretty sissy doll, a lovely plaything for the women you’ve always wanted to serve and obey.’

  As she spoke, he looked up again at his reflection, at the strange, faceless head, its lower half covered by the thick white leather straps of the gag. Through the sheer white nylon of the hood, he saw that the gag plate was shaped like a pink rose and fitted perfectly over the decorated mouth hole. He felt the long, thick gag fill his mouth and flatten his tongue. He was forced to suck obscenely on its fat, probing length to maintain steady breathing, each suck drawing the tang of his aunt’s urine deeper into his sissified form.

  ‘I can see you’re enjoying the gag,’ his aunt continued, amused by the helpless, deeply humiliating sucking.

  Pansy, suddenly infuriated, tried to squeal angry denial, but only a very slight, barely audible whimper managed to fight its way past the long, thick rubber phallus.

  ‘Of course, once we’ve got you fully transformed, the boys will be queuing up to play with you.’

  Aunt Anthea’s words came as a carefully launched missile that inspired an immediate horror. The poor, pathetic sissy, unable to make any real sound of resistance, his eyes wide with outrage, shook his bonneted head angrily. His gorgeous Aunt burst into mocking laughter.

  ‘Oh don’t be such a silly little baby, Pansy! You must know this is only the beginning of your training. I’ve spent a lot of time discussing the future with mummy and your sister. They both agree that you should be fully transformed into a pretty little girl. Although a very special one! I’ve already made the arrangements to begin the hormone treatments and, once they’ve taken hold, a plastic surgeon friend of mine has agreed to provide the breast implants. Mummy and Bev are particularly keen that you have a very large, sensitive pair of boobies by the end of the year. And once that’s sorted, we can begin to think about the full sex change. My doctor friend is already working on the creation of an ultra-sensitive vagina for a number of her transsexual patients. I’ve put you as near to the top of her waiting list as possible, so within twelve months you should be totally transformed!’

  By now, poor Pansy was wiggling and struggling furiously in his bonds, panic and horror overwhelming his fear of the consequences of resistance.

  Laughing loudly at her terrified, appalled sissy nephew, Aunt Anthea strode across the nursery towards the cot. From the wall, she took the long, ivory handled riding crop and returned to her pathetic, helpless and very angry charge.

  ‘Just think,’ she continued to tease, ‘we can plug you in all three orifices at once: a nice fat penis gag to keep you permanently quiet, a much bigger, thicker plug for that naughty little arse of yours and an especially fat dildo locked into your new, always tingling pussy.’

  Tears soaked through the nylon hood as Pansy struggled against the shackles holding his arms and legs prisoner. He continued to shake his head and totter angrily in the stiletto heeled ankle boots.

  It was then that Aunt Anthea applied a sudden, hard whack of the crop to Pansy’s rubber sheathed thighs. Despite the thicker material of the latex rubber, the crop still bit deeply into the flesh of his thighs and inspired a different kind of hopping and struggle.

  ‘Now, be quiet or you will receive five more cuts!’

  The pain quickly overwhelmed horror at his awful fate. His struggles lessened. He stood before his beautiful aunt, his head bowed, his soul crushed. He looked up only to watch her slip her buxom, curvy, gorgeous body back into the blouse and skirt and felt his cock – the precious, aching tool of masculinity that within a year would be transformed into a permanently plugged and ultra-sensitive vagina– strain angrily against its layers of feminine restraint.

  ‘Now,’ Aunt Anthea continued, ‘let’s get you downstairs. The ladies will be here in a few minutes. And they are bringing lots of lovely sissy presents for you. I also asked them all to bring their worn panties from the last five days. Something for you to look forward to during next week’s naps and during those long, naughty nights in the sleep sack. You really are a very lucky sissy, Pansy!’

  Miss Anthea Swan then tugged at the leash and led her terrified, helpless sissy nephew out onto the landing of the large, elegant house. Despite everything, as he tottered desperately along behind her, Pansy couldn’t keep his wide, tear filled eyes away from his aunt’s large, perfectly formed backside as it moved with a teasing, deeply erotic grace within the folds of the tight, checked skirt. As they approached the winding stairway that led down to the circular entrance hall, the doorbell suddenly echoed around them.

  ‘It’s open!’ Aunt Anthea shouted down the stairs. ‘Let yourselves in!’

  3. Sons into Daughters

  Mrs Noble opens the door and smiles warmly at Mrs Lane, her next door neighbour of the last six months.

  'Everything went as planned, Debbie. Heather is upstairs with them now, adding the finishing touches.'

  Debra Lane, a tall, plump, very attractive blonde in her late forties returns Helen Noble's smile and steps into the hallway. The two women then embrace and kiss. It is a slow, passionate kiss that signals their newly discovered and profoundly sexual partnership. As they withdraw from this erotic embrace, Debra releases an almost helpless moan of pleasure.

  'You're so beautiful, Helen. I'm so lucky to have found you. And now everything is finally working out with the boys, too. All thanks to you and Heather.'

  Helen Noble, an equally plump, yet also equally beautiful brunette in her early fifties, blushes with genuine modesty.

  'Without your help Debbie, we wouldn't have been able to do anything with them.'

  Debra's lovely smile widens and she takes Helen's warm, elegant hands in her own, her sky blue eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need. Helen then leads her new lover into the living room.

  'I can't wait to see them,' Debra whispers, her eyes caressing Helen's impressive figure. Despite her fifty odd years, Helen is a truly gorgeous spectacle. Dressed in a tight black sweater, a knee-length black and white check skirt, very sheer black nylon stockings and black patent leather, high heeled court shoes, she resembles a particularly beautiful school mistress, especially now that her long, thick black hair has been bound tightly in a very strict bun held in place by a diamond studded clasp.

  'We'll go up in a minute,' Helen replies, her own eyes fixed on Debra's lovely body, which today is clad in a semi-transparent white silk blouse that perfectly reveals the lace trimmed cups of her brassiere and the two large, soft breasts they contain, a surprisingly short black skirt which displays her long, very shapely, black nylon sheathed legs to perfection, and a pair of stiletto heeled mules.

  Helen stares lovingly at Debra's substantial breasts and memories of the previous torrid night of passion come flooding back. Giddy with desire, she takes a freshly opened bottle of chilled white wine from the living room table and fills two glasses. She passes a glass to her lover and proposes a toast.

  'To Prissy and Chrissy!'

  Debra smiles and raises her glass. 'Yes, to our new sissy sons.'

  Helen laughs. 'Not sons, now, Debbie.'

  'No,' Debra replies, 'of course not. To our new sissy daughters!'

  The beautiful women laugh even louder and raise their glasses, their eyes meeting and finding a powerful, deeply sexual love.

  As they drink, there is a brief, contemplative silence, a silence filled with memories of their two very wayward teenage sons. Patrick, Debra's son, aged 15, and Christopher, Helen's son, who will be 16 next week. Sons who, individually
, have been terrible tests for two single mothers, but together have become truly dreadful monsters, evil twins of misrule who have plagued their parents and the whole neighbourhood with constant bad behaviour, who have bullied poor Heather, Christopher's sister, so intensely that, even though she is two years older, the unfortunate girl has recently suffered a minor breakdown and sought psychiatric advice. And it was at this moment, now some six weeks old, that Helen had exclaimed to Debra, 'If only they'd been girls.' Those fateful words echo down the last few weeks to the point of this merry toast, words that inspired a plan to transform their naughty, aggressive, angry sons into submissive, passive, well behaved daughters; or rather, deliberately designed she-males sentenced to a particularly rigorous and humiliating sissy subjugation.

  For the last six weeks, the Helen, Debra and Heather have been secretly preparing for the transformation of Patrick and Christopher into Prissy and Chrissy. With the help of a number of close friends in the neighbourhood, a whole sissy wardrobe has been prepared. The women have also designed and overseen the construction of a special nursery, a complex piece of construction which has been kept from the boys via the disguise of turning Helen's cellar into a spare room. Such is Patrick and Christopher's indifference to the world around them, they have paid very little attention to the work being undertaken by a firm of builders owned by a very sympathetic neighbour, a neighbour whose own property had recently been damaged by the twisted actions of the two teenagers. In addition to these secret preparations, the women have also arranged for the boys to be removed from their local school. Christopher is only a few months from completing his final year, whereas Patrick still has another year to go, but the school authorities, in particular the sorely tested headmistress, are more than happy for the two to be taken into "private tuition". Then there are the rest of the neighbours, the real victims of the two teenagers' reign of terror. As well as the builder, there are the local teenage girls, all of whom have been terrorised at some point or other by Pat and Chris, and, of course, the long suffering mothers of these much abused girls. All have been informed of the plan and all have very willingly helped when required. And, later this afternoon, there will be a very special party to introduce Prissy and Sissy to the womenfolk of the neighbourhood.

  'Well then,' Helen purrs, her eyes burning with a deep, triumphant pleasure, 'let's go meet the girls.'

  She then leads her lover to Heather's bedroom. As Debra follows the lovely Helen, her heart pounding with delighted anticipation, she finds herself recalling the last twenty four hours. How the two boys had been persuaded by Heather to come into the house to share an elicit bottle of cider, not knowing that the alcohol was laced with a very powerful sleeping drug, a drug that had quickly left them both unconscious and likely to remain so for many hours. How the three women had then carefully stripped the boys naked and put their discarded clothing in one of the many packing crates now filled with the all their male clothing and possessions, and which would soon be given to a suitably obscure charity. How they had so painstakingly washed the boys and used a very potent hair removal cream to rid their surprisingly girlish physiques of every inch of body hair (the cream ensured there wouldn't be even a speck of hair visible for at least a week, which allowed plenty of time to arrange a permanent denuding). How they had covered the boys' bodies in a positive ocean of powerful feminine perfumes and taken them to Heather's bedroom. How they had then dressed them in their new sissy costumes.

  The dressing had been terribly exciting and also deeply amusing. But before the lovely sissy clothes, there had been the more intimate items of feminine control: the cherry red rubber cock re-strainers that had been carefully eased over their sexes and secured with special metal rings snapped into place around their testicles; the hot pink rubber phalluses that had been slipped between their surprisingly pert buttocks with the aid of large amounts of KY jelly. The special, ultra tight pink rubber panties pulled over their now silky smooth legs and positioned around their slender waists.

  Then there had been the gorgeous sissy attire. First: special, strengthened panty girdles, whose tough elastane waists had reached up beyond their babyish navels. Then pink nylon tights, rolled with some care and effort up the legs of the two unconscious youths. And after the tights, the gorgeous white silk panties covered in row upon row of beautiful French lace. Then gorgeous, leather reinforced, pink rubber mini corsets, which had been tightly secured around their waists and embraced their slender torsos from just above the lovely panties up to their soon to be rouged (and eventually pierced) nipples.

  And after this mass of sissy underwear, there were truly spectacular dresses. Each made from stunning hot pink satin, with long, puffed arms whose wrists, very high button up necks and very short skirts were ringed with thick white lace frills. Sown into each skirt were layers of thick pink lace petticoating, and each bodice area was covered in a subtle pattern of pink silk roses.

  Dressed in this pretty, deeply humiliating costume, the boys, who were now well on the way to becoming a very special kind of girl, had been placed on the bed side by side and left to sleep until the morning.

  Heather, a huge smile of contentment and anticipation lighting up her face, had gone to Christopher's much larger bedroom (now to be her own) and very quickly fallen asleep. But Helen and Debra had found themselves face to face outside Heather's bedroom, their eyes locked together. They had embraced and kissed; then they had rushed to Helen's bedroom.

  The three women returned to what had been Heather's bedroom (and would now become a very special "training room") just as the hallway clock struck 7.00am. The vaguely stirring boys had been helped from the bed and into two very high-backed chairs placed before Heather's elegant dressing table mirror. Here, as they fought to retain consciousness, their sissy bodies carefully strapped to the chairs, the women had set to work transforming their faces.

  First, a thick, snow-white foundation cream was spread across every inch of their faces, giving them the look of china dolls. The cream, like all of the make-up that was applied, had been chemically enhanced to give it the water-resistant qualities of a dye. It could not be removed by simple washing or by the effects of perspiration. Indeed, the only way it could be removed was through the application of a powerful, specially designed cleansing gel.

  Once the boys’ faces were covered, their eyelids were painted a bright hot pink that matched exactly the spectacular dresses. Long false eyelashes were fixed to their half-open eyes. Each gleaming snow coloured cheek was covered in a precise circle of hot pink rouge. Their soft lips were painted the same shade of sissy hot pink and diamond stud-style, clip-on earrings were attached to each of their ears.

  The boys now looked exactly as their mothers had intended: intricately feminised young males, very girlish boys, very delicate teenage sissies. This was because, initially, there was to be no pretence regarding their true sex: no clever wigs and padded bras. For the first few months of their ordeal, Prissy and Sissy were to wear their hair very short and their slender figures were to remain blatantly male. Thus, at least initially, everyone would be able to see that these two young men were undergoing a very severe form of petticoat punishment, that there were not truly girls but rather pathetic, helpless, ultra- sissy she-males. This was to be the first humiliating stage of their transformation.

  Satisfied by their handiwork, the women had then returned their drugged and still semi-conscious captives to the bed. Debra, after kissing her new lover on the cheek, had left to make arrangements for the party due to be held later that day. Helen and Heather had then set about restraining their new sissy charges.

  First they had slipped very high heeled, pink patent leather ankles boots over the sissies hosed feet. Through small eyelets fixed to the side of each boot, they had then passed a slender silver chain, which was locked in place with a tiny silver padlock. This left only six inches of slack between each boot. Then they had slipped intricate, rubber lined, fingerless mittens of hot pink satin over the sissies h
ands and tied them in place at the wrists with thick white silk ribbons. Then restraining belts were produced. Made from thick, pink leather, they were wrapped around each she-male's waist and buckled tightly in place. Secured to the front of each belt were two very short lengths of chain, which were in turn attached to two matching pink leather shackles. These were quickly slipped around the sissies wrists and then tightly buckled in place. Finally, as the unfortunate youths now very pretty eyes began to flutter open, two large pacifiers were produced. Each had a huge, orb-shaped rubber teat fixed to a curved plastic base. Attached to each side of the base was a long length of cream-coloured silk ribbon. The teats were forced into the captive's mouths and the plastic bases were pressed against their painted lips. The inside of each plastic base was lined with a powerful adhesive tape, which sealed the dummy tightly in place. An added security was provided by tying the silk ribbons in a fat bow at the back of each sissy's head.

  Helen smiled at her beautiful daughter. 'They'll be fully conscious in a few minutes. I'll leave the rest of the preparations to you. I suggest you exact some well-earned revenge - the crop is in my room, on the bed. Perhaps six cuts each on the thighs when they start protesting. I'll be back with Debbie just before lunch.'

  And now, just before lunch time, Helen returns, as promised, with Debra. Approaching the bedroom, they hear the angry, pained squeals of their sissified sons. As Helen opens the door, the squeals become louder, much more desperate: pleas for release from a terrible, bizarre fate. But there will be no release.

  Helen walks into the room. Heather is standing by the two intricately feminised boys, a proud, wicked grin lighting up her lovely face. The boys are sitting on the edge of the bed, tears pouring from their terror and anger filled eyes. They look surprisingly pretty, and Debra, following Helen into the room, is very keen to loudly announce this awful fact.