Silken Tales

by Christina Shelly

  And as he sucks, there is the inescapable fact of Ms Dale, of her gorgeous, thick red hair and piercing emerald eyes, of her tremendous, athletic figure sheathed in a tight silk suit, and her desire to revenge herself on the arrogant, bestial youth who had, on so many occasions, made her life a misery, a youth now sealed so very tighty in sweet baby clothes, pantied, hosed and mittened, his wayward cock imprisoned in tight, unforgiving rubber, a bitterly humiliating and horrifying dildo positioned deep inside his tender arse. Yes, this is a glorious and total revenge.

  And as Chrissy suffers at the hands of the gorgeous Ms Dale, the plump, stunning Mrs Eve works her teasing magic on poor little Prissy. In the hands of this gorgeous woman, Prissy is far less resistant than Chrissy, his eyes glued to Mrs Eve's large, white nylon sweater sealed breasts as he sucks with an almost erotic contentment on the fat rubber teat.

  'Suddenly Prissy seems far less upset about his fate,' Helen whispers to Debra, the two mothers watching this spectacle with a helpless fascination.

  'No, I'm sure he's mortified,' Debra replies. 'But I've seen him looking at Mrs Eve before. He's always had a secret thing about her. He keeps a collection of pictures of black models and actresses under his bed. He has a very obvious weakness for the duskier female.'

  'I suggest we involve her more in his babification,' Helen whispers. 'Use his desire.'

  Debra contemplates these words and smiles. 'Yes, of course. I'm sure she'd love to be more directly involved. And if we weaken Prissy, then it will be much harder for Chrissy to fight us. And to be honest, I think Mrs Eve will find it more entertaining, more erotic.'

  Helen smiles and runs the back of her hand across Debra's soft, pale rose cheek. Her friend quivers with pleasure and leans into the caress. Helen knows that, for Debra, the transformation of Prissy is all about revenge and discipline. Unlike Helen, she finds no real sexual edge to this enforced feminisation, an edge whose roots are in the strange pleasures of sadomasochism. Yet for Helen, controlling her son and turning him into a simpering, obedient sissy is about much more than revenge. She is excited by the power she is about to possess, aroused by the thought of subduing and transforming her wayward, arrogant, foolish only child into a pretty, mincing, hosed and pantied pansy. Then, of course, there is the final weapon that will guarantee obedience and the success of her plans: her son's teenage crush, his secret but inescapable desire for his own beautiful, sexy mother. A fact exposed by so many furtive gazes at her black stockinged legs and by the not infrequent disruption of her underwear draw.

  As Ms Dale and Mrs Eve empty the last of the first bottles into the sissies tormented mouths, Ms Blaine and her mysterious friend step forward armed with two more bottles filled with the pink liquid.

  'They are both very impressive specimens,' the striking blonde whispers in a deep German accent, taking up Chrissy's next full bottle of milk and quickly forcing the teat between his very reluctant lips.

  A look of genuine fear and horror spreads across the poor sissy's face as the sinister blonde continues to talk. 'Breast enlargement will be simple. We start with hormones from today, then a silicon procedure in about three months, when we will do the rest of the surgical interventions.'

  Ms Blaine smiles and nods. 'Nina is the best cosmetic surgeon in the country. Trust me, Helen, no one will ever be able to recognise them as boys by the time she's finished.'

  'I can't wait,' Debra says, moving towards Ms Blaine and fixing her hard, angry eyes on poor Prissy. 'Just think, dearest, you'll soon have a pair of big, bouncy titties. Then you'll really know about the burdens of femininity.'

  Prissy's eyes widen in even greater fear and he squeals into the fat rubber teat now filling his pretty sissy mouth. Chrissy also begins to struggle once more. Beverley steps forward, waves the crop, and both she-males fall silent. More tears begin to trickle from their big, baby eyes.

  'And they'll be ultra-sensitive too,' Ms Blaine adds, forcing Prissy to suck harder on the teat.

  'Yes,' the blonde called Nina adds. 'Just a simple matter of design, of developing the sensory capabilities of the existing skin.'

  'But we want them to be exposed first,' Helen insists. 'Three months of flat chested, short haired humiliation, so that everyone knows the truth of their sissification.'

  'After that, they'll be begging us to make them into girls,' Debra adds, causing more cruel, teasing laughter.

  As Ms Blaine and Nina are replaced by Babette and Mrs Bellman, Debra takes Mrs Eve aside and explains her proposed role in the development of Chrissy and Prissy. Meanwhile, the two helpless, angry, horrified sissies are fed their third bottle of ultra-sweet, pink coloured milk by two more beautiful, mocking, powerful women. As they reluctantly suck down the thick pink goo, they contemplate with true terror their sissified futures at the hands of this band of determined, merciless sisters. They no longer struggle or squeal: they have been stilled by an all-powerful sense of inescapable sissy doom.

  By the time the fourth and final bottle has been emptied into their tormented sissy mouths, both Chrissy and Prissy are feeling very sick. Bloated and queasy, they are now very easy to control: they are unshackled and pulled from the humiliating high chairs without even a whimper of protest.

  Heather and Beverley replace the dummy gags and bind the sissies hands behind their backs (slapping their pretty, hosed thighs for amusement as they do so). Helen then addresses her guests.

  'It's nearly five, and I think our two babies need an early night. Heather and Beverley will stay and work out the timetable of visits to your homes. Debra, Mrs Eve and I need to tuck the sissies in. Thank you so much for coming, and I'm sure you'll be seeing much, much more of Chrissy and Prissy."

  The women clap their gratitude and wish their new sissy slaves a sweet goodnight. Helen and Debra then lead poor Chrissy and Prissy from the room, followed by a fascinated and very beautiful Mrs Eve. The hobbles and bindings ensure that the journey from the living is a slow and uncomfortable one, and the two she-males are soon moaning fearfully and uncomfortably into their fat dummy gags.

  Rather than being returned to the basement nursery, the sissies find themselves led upstairs. And after much slapping of pantied buttocks, squeals of painful fear and mocking laughter (especially from a deeply amused Mrs Eve), Chrissy and Prissy are led to Helen's bedroom door.

  'You can use Chrissy's old room,' Helen tells Debra. She and Mrs Eve then lead a now wide eyed, plainly terrified Prissy off to the next stage of his terrible, perverse fate.

  Chrissy watches Prissy disappear into his old room before being led into his mother's room, new tears of fear welling up in his pretty baby girl eyes.

  Helen shuts the door and leads Chrissy into the centre of the large, elegantly decorated room.

  'There's no need to be afraid, Chrissy. I'm not going to punish you. I just want to get you ready for bed, and also to talk privately.'

  Chrissy's sobs subside and he finds himself looking up at his beautiful, regal mother with water logged, puzzled eyes.

  'I must admit all this excitement has made me rather hot,' she purrs, smiling warmly at her sissified son. 'So, I'll just slip out of these clothes before we start.'

  Then, to Chrissy's utter astonishment, his gorgeous mother pulls the tight black nylon sweater up over her chest and above her head to reveal a pair of large, surprisingly firm and shapely breasts erotically imprisoned in a tight, lace edged, black silk brassiere, plus a waistline tightly contained within a black leather, satin and rubber panelled corset! She throws the sweater onto the big double bed that dominates the room, slips the beautiful diamond clasp from her hair and shakes the thick, glossy mane free. A sigh of aroused amazement slips from Chrissy's gag as his mother then turns to face him and begins to wiggle out of the short, sexy skirt.

  'There,' she sighs, the skirt dropping to her ankles, revealing two long, perfectly shaped legs wrapped in self-supporting black nylon stockings, 'that's much better.'

  Standing at least three inches taller than her te
enage sissy son in her black patent leather, high heeled court shoes, she then slips an elegant, blood red nailed hand under Chrissy's chin and lifts his head so that he is staring directly into her gorgeous brown eyes.

  'I know your secrets, Chrissy - your most secret thoughts and desires. You can't hide them from me. I've seen your sinful gaze; I've noticed my disturbed underwear draw and the odd pair of missing panties. And we've all seen your little performance with Prissy. I know that deep down you're loving your sissification. And I know you have very naughty thoughts about me.'

  He tries to shake his head, to resist the implications of her words, but his eyes quickly fall upon her splendid, heaving chest and a mind numbing desire washes over him.

  'Obviously, the humiliation, the baby clothes…that is hurting, and it will continue to hurt for quite a while. But the physical transformations we plan and, if you are obedient and submissive, your final transformation into a full blown she-male, are not just about punishment. They are about helping you to stop fighting your true nature.'

  Then she slowly, even teasingly, unties him, removes the hobble chain and begins, again teasingly, to remove his lovely sissy clothes, her eyes tormenting his with a look of pure sin. With a sexy, promising smile lighting up her gorgeous face, she removes the dummy gag and the bonnet, then the pinafore and the dress, eventually striping him down to just the corset, his rubber panties and tights. Then, her smile widening, she eases the tights and panties over his long, hard, rubber imprisoned sex and down his silky smooth legs. His expertly restrained sex pops up before her like a totem pole created in the name of some gorgeous goddess of death and he utters a helpless cry of pleasure and frustration.

  She releases a surprised girlish laugh. 'Your father was a very well-endowed man, and in that respect at least, you take after him.'

  Poor Chrissy blushes furiously and tries to avoid his mother's overwhelming gaze.

  'Please, mum,' he mumbles, confused, tormented, helpless.

  Then she truly amazes him by slipping a long, elegant hand over his large, frustrated sex and begins to caress it.

  'Be quiet, petal,' she whispers, her own eyes now glazed by desire, her voice filled with a strange, maternal reassurance cut through with hoarse need. 'I know what you want. And I don't mind. But running away from your true self is costing us all far too much. You're at war with yourself, Chrissy. And that has to stop.'

  He moans and arches his back helplessly as she teases the engorged, rubber lined shaft of his sex into an even harder, firmer state, causing the metal ring clamping his testicles to squeeze harder.

  'Dr Ruscoe is a world authority on cosmetic and gender reassignment surgery, and she assures me we can transform you without losing one millimetre of this lovely toy. Debra is actually very keen to make Prissy undergo a full sex change; but you, my sweet…well, I want you to remain very distinctly male as far as this is concerned.'

  A cry of agonised pleasure escapes poor Chrissy's helplessly pouting lips and his mother releases her dreadful, wonderful grip.

  'Now, let's get you ready for bed.'

  She turns him around to face the bed. It is only now that he notices the new collection of ultra sissy clothing neatly laid neatly out on the white silk sheets.

  'I want you to bend over first, Chrissy,' his mother whispers, her deep, sensual voice filled with promise and arousal. 'Hands on the bed, legs wide apart.'

  The helpless, horny sissy obeys, and as he leans forward, his rubberised sex presses angrily into his stomach. A sickening need floods across his feminised body, his heart pounds angrily. Desire consumes him and he moans helplessly into a void of bottomless teenage lust.

  Then he feels her hands between his legs. A finger teases his rubber sealed testicles and he cries out. Then a hand slips between his buttocks, fingers probe around the head of the teasing, ingenious vibrator. Then, slowly, carefully, it is eased free. A cry of pleasure escapes his mouth. His mother then tells him to stand up.

  'We'll start with the nappy first,' she says.

  He looks down at the sissy clothes and feels his racing heart slow with disappointment. As his mother disposes of the vibrator, he realises the night ahead is to be one of even greater humiliation. Before him on the bed is a large, terry cloth nappy, a pair of adult-sized, pink plastic panties, a pair of white silk stockings, two pink lace frilled garters, what appears to be a pair of fingerless, pink rubber mittens and, the crowning item of soul-crushing baby wear: a romper suit made from a very fine pink satin, which is edged at it's very high neck with inches of teasing white French lace.

  Helen takes the nappy from the bed and carefully folds it into a large triangle before pulling it between her sissy's son's legs and bringing the ends together at his waist. Holding these ends with one hand, she deftly takes a very large silver safety pin from the bedside table and pins the huge, embarrassing nappy tightly in place. And it is as she does this that he feels his stomach rumble and a strange gaseous noise bubble up from deep within his bowels.

  'The mush was spiked with a powerful laxative,' his mother says, obviously amused. 'It will take full effect in about 60 minutes, so we better hurry up.'

  He looks at her in utter horror and is about to protest when she presses a finger to his soft lips.

  'Shhhh. No talking, Chrissy, unless you want a strip of skin spanked off your backside.'

  His cheeks redden with anger and humiliation. He falls silent and watches as his mother takes up the plastic panties, a teasingly cruel smile lighting up her beautiful face.

  He is made to step into the panties and they are slowly pulled up over his silky smooth legs and positioned around the bulging nappy. Then he is made to sit down on the bed and watches transfixed as his mother takes up one of the translucent silk stockings.

  'Aren't they beautiful?' she whispers, her gaze burning into his wide, tormented eyes.

  She kneels before him and he peers down at the delightful sight of her incredible, tightly imprisoned breasts heaving with concentration as she bunches the stocking up into a ball and slips it over his right foot. Then, very slowly, she begins to draw the beautiful stocking over his dainty foot and up his long leg. The sensation of the fine, soft silk brushing against his smooth, sensitised skin is immediately arousing. He gasps as one thousand rose petal kisses work their way up his leg and his mother laughs.

  'Yes, it's a lovely feeling, Chrissy. The kiss of silk against soft sissy skin. Now stand up.'

  He obeys her without a second's hesitation, transfixed by the feel of the stocking and the almost magical transformative effect it has on the shape of his leg. His tightly imprisoned erection strains desperately against the rubber restrainer and a bead of sex sweat drips from a painted lip onto his tongue. His mother draws the stocking up around his thigh and takes one of the pretty lace garters from the bed. Under her instruction, he steps into the garter and she pulls it up around the slightly darker coloured area of the stocking top, using pink silk ribbons that run through the lace weaving to tie it tightly in place.

  In a few minutes, she has repeated this elaborate, highly erotic process with the second stocking and he is soon standing before her, his eyes studying her splendid body with an intense and desperate excitement.

  'I had the romper suit designed especially from the finest Italian silk. I'm sure you'll just love it, Chrissy.'

  His mother's words wash over him like a cloud of pure sex. Now, despite his impending babification, he is lost in the powerful grip of his own desire, and all he can do is moan submissively as Helen takes the elaborate, beautiful suit from the bed and holds it teasingly before him.

  It is a striking hot pink and has silk booties and fingerless mittens shown seamlessly into its beautiful, shimmering fabric, making it resemble a strange, infantile body stocking. His mother displays the suit before him, revealing a row of cream coloured pearl buttons that run down the back, all the way from the white lace be-frilled and very high neck to the edge of the lower waist area. Once imprisoned in th
e suit, there will be no escape without some form of assistance.

  His mother pulls open the back section and orders Chrissy to sit back on the bed. She then draws the legs up over his silk encased feet and ankles. She pulls the suit up to his thighs and then tells him to stand. He obeys and watches with amazed humiliation as she glides his arms into the silk sleeves and then pulls them and the rest of the suit towards and up over his slender, girlish shoulders. The layers of white lace around the high neck immediately begin to tickle his chin and Helen stifles a mocking laugh while she carefully buttons up the suit, imprisoning her pretty sissy son in a cocoon of pure pink silk.

  Once he has been secured in the suit, his mother steps back to admire her handiwork, a broad, teasing smile once again lighting up her gorgeous face. He tries to avoid drinking in her own splendid form and feels his sex fight even harder against its cruel rubber restrainer.

  'You look so cute, Chrissy. Utterly adorable," she says, walking around him and then sitting down on the bed.

  'Come here and lay down on the bed.'

  He looks at her in astonishment as her hands pat the tops of her black nylon stockings. Swallowing hard, he moves towards the bed, and almost immediately he is surrounded by the sweet, mocking rustle of expensive Italian silk. Not only that, but as he moves, the silk caresses those parts of his shaven, ultra-sensitive body that remain naked beneath. He moans helplessly and minces up to the edge of the bed. His mother then helps him onto the bed, and very soon he finds himself lying on his back with his head resting in her wide, warm lap.

  'As I've already told you, Chrissy, if you obey me, and if you accept your sissification with an open heart, there will be rewards. And as you've performed very well so far, here's a little taster, as it were.'

  He looks up at her marvellous chest in total awe. Then he gasps in shock, in delight, in total astonishment as his mother proceeds to unclip the lovely black brassiere and pull it free of her bosom. Suddenly, Chrissy is only inches from his gorgeous mother’s splendidly formed, ample and very bare breasts.