by Tina Majors
She had told me the other night that she wasn’t satisfied with my body, she wanted it more sissy in its shape. In lieu of this, she had put me on an improved diet and said we would be hitting the beach to show me off. I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but I didn’t have too much time to wonder as I was too busy with our food prep.
Jennifer would be returning shortly and I still had a lot to do.
**
One of the things I love to eat is your standard chocolate bar (or candy as they say in the US of A). I mean the standard style you get in a supermarket from one of the big manufacturers like Nestle or Mars International, you know the score.
Your Mars Bar, your Twix, your Snickers.
Sure, they come loaded with a bucket of sugar and God knows what else in terms of flavourings and whatnot, but they sure do hit the spot when you need a quick fix of junk flavour.
But this is problematic for two main reasons.
The first is that the aforementioned sugar is actually terrible for you, it really is. The way it contributes nothing but a quick fix actually leaves the eater (you, me, Peggy Lee) open to a sudden crash is both physically and mentally dangerous.
Think about it for a moment.
It’s not all that different from taking a drug that gives you a surge of energy. What happens when that surge ends? Where are you both mentally and physically?
The second problem is that this kind of sugar is very hard to burn off and is a major contributor to obesity. Say no more.
But here’s the kicker.
These snacks don’t actually taste that great. Not when you actually take a step (or two) back and smell the processed cheese. The thing with many of the new era whole food snacks is that they provide a slow burn release of energy, the kind that is both super high on flavour but doesn’t leave you feeling like crap half an hour later. Honestly, I’ve eaten a raw nut bar and been high on the flavour an goodness for at least an hour after, probably more if I think about it.
So, yeah, you could say I have been on a journey of change and discovery when it comes to the kind of snack that I partake in the consumption of when I feel my tummy tell me that I need that out of meal exposure to some food.
That said, I cannot honestly say that I don’t miss the ease and convenience of that quick hit of a Kit Kat or a bag of Maltesers. But, you know what, that feeling is starting to fade now. It’s almost like in truth I can’t really remember what they taste like now, so I’m not really missing them, more like I’m missing the idea of them – and further, I’m missing the idea of what I thought they were, not what they are in practical terms.
Well, this is all getting a bit philosophical isn’t it!
I’ve worked up quite an appetite, perhaps I need a tasty six nut raw cacao bar!
Anyway, as I say, sugary snacks are one thing but what I really do enjoy is a great juice.
And, no, I don’t mean that from concentrate crap that fills the sky high shelves of your local super market or out of town mega market.
If you think that Mars bars are full of sugar then you only need to read the ingredients list of a from concentrate juice to see that sometimes the devil wears a disguise designed to fool innocent morons into drinking what they assume is a health focussed fruit based beverage but is in actual fact essentially sugar in liquid form. Avoid at all costs and if you do insist on buying juice from a carton, then may I politely advocate that you check it is not from concentrate and does not contain any additional flavourings or additives.
But I digress.
What I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself was that I enjoy making my own juice.
Yes, you read that right.
I like to cut out the middle man and the corporations and make my own juice out of the freshest, most natural ingredients out there.
Apple.
Banana.
Passion Fruit.
Orange.
You name it, I’ll juice it.
But here’s the twist that might shock you: I’ll throw in a few super nutritious greens in there as well. Now hold on to your hat and don’t run for the sick bucket. The combination of the fruit means that the taste of the green green super leaves is for the most majority hidden from your taste-buds.
My point?
You get to enjoy an incredibly tasty juice that combines the nutritious benefits of both the fruits and the vegetables.
Hell, what’s not to like?
I know, I know, you can’t think of a single objection can you?
Of course. But I would utter one word of caution. Please be careful not to underload the fruit and overload the green leaves. This could potentially leave you with a juice that only the bravest health maniac could handle. And, yes, I am talking from painful, sour experience!
The time I over planted the kale leaves will live long in my memory and not for good reasons I can assure you. What I did was this: I made the simple error or getting distracted by the music I was casually MCing along to.
And guess what?
The preferred handful of kale became four handfuls. And the suggested three kiwis became a single handful of grape. I know, I can hear you retching in absolute disgust from here.
Well, it was a tough lesson to learn, a bitter juice to swallow if you excuse the pun.
I picked up my Samsung tablet and held it out in front of me.
Yes, it looked nice.
I wouldn’t say it was a design classic or anything, and although I am certainly no Apple fanboy, in all seriousness you couldn’t say it looked as super sleek as the iPad, in any of its myriad models. But, it did look decent and I liked that it felt substantial, but not too heavy, in my hand. I’d dropped it a couple of times and it hadn’t exploded in a shattering mess just yet so that also spoke to an inherent inbuilt durability that scored well in my personal score chart for products of the electronic variety.
I put the tablet down on the wooded worktop and had a quick look at my emails before accessing the YouTube app to look up a new video from an online workout and lifestyle guru I had taken an interest in. The whole idea of this person’s workout approach was that you fuelled your body and took care of it, and then when it came to exercise it could deal with you going hard on yourself.
But don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t going hard in the sense of standing there like a dumb melon and lifting weight after weight.
No, it was all about bodyweight stuff, flexibility, explosive power and having a fun time outdoors.
I guess it was also a lifestyle thing, certainly in the videos he uploaded everyone seemed to be having a good time, eating and living well, and having a fun time running around and practicing capoeira in the park!
Well, you can’t blame me for looking to be aspirational when it comes to working out.
Working out in a gym might have certain appealing aspects, but really isn’t it just a bit boring? And the places always seem so ridiculously hot in such an artificial way. Some say this is to make people sweat and then think they’re working harder than they are. The idea with this being that people don’t actually work as hard so feel compelled to keep coming back.
Conspiracy theory?
Well maybe, but the thing is you can’t put anything past these corporations when it comes to the bottom line aka the big fat profit margin.
But to be honest I do think the era of the super gym is coming to an end because you do seem to see so many mega deals on membership at the moment. With the rise of Instagram and other social media of this kind it has become obvious that you just don’t need a gym and by extension gym equipment for your workout needs. People have moved on and the sooner the gym and fitness corporations realise this the better I say.
Perhaps instead of gyms, these buildings could be used more as spas?
Now that idea could have potential.
Anyway, I’m ranting and raving like a lunatic now.
The point was, I enjoyed watching my workout video and actually picked up a recipe for a new smoot
hie on the way.
Result!
So, yeah, I realised that I had got distracted and needed to finish off my chores before-
“What the hell is going on here, wimp?” Jennifer said, and she didn’t sound overly pleased. “We are going to the beach and I find you basically sitting around talking to yourself?”
She looked angry, her glare was fixed directly at me. I had to get my response on point or I would be getting an immediate punishment.
“I’m sorry, Madame,” I said. “The truth is that is am so excited to go to the beach and serve you there as your pathetic little sissy beta boy, that I got distracted. Please let me make it up to you.”
Genius, I thought.
I could tell that she was pleased with my response. Had she not been I would have been dragged straight over her knee within nanoseconds.
“Well, well, well,” She replied. “You make a valid point. Well, seeing as you are so keen, I want you to walk into the hallway and get into your beach outfit. Meet me outside, I’ll be in the car. You’ve got two minutes!”
With that, she turned and walked out.
I knew I had to hurry, but I couldn’t help taking a second to drool over the magnificent sight of her leaving.
Her large, muscular, feminine bottom jiggling slightly in her incredibly tight yoga pants. I knew she’d be getting into something more revealing at the beach and I also knew as great a sight as that would be, I would have to be careful that my excitement didn’t show through my swimming shorts!
I walked into the hallway to get into my swimming shorts anticipating that they would be in a girly colour like pink, some kind of signal to those in the know that I was a sissy for Madame Jennifer.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
It wasn’t a pair of swimming shorts that I would be wearing. Not even a pair of humiliating little speedos that would reveal my bulge, or to put it more accurately, lack of bulge.
No, what stared back at me was a scandalously small two piece bikini in bright pink.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
I picked it up and held the bottoms in front of me. Okay, so they were miniscule, I mean really left nothing to the imagination. The back was kind of a semi-thong, I knew it would ride high on my ass because the hip cut was designed for it.
I felt a mixture of complete devastation at the humiliation I knew I would be feeling on the beach but also a sense of thrill, so many thoughts crossing my mind about what kind of response I would provoke in the other women, and big strong alpha men sunning themselves as they do their thing on the beach.
It briefly crossed my mind to refuse to wear it.
No, I couldn’t.
Jennifer would probably send me out naked if I did that, or even worse… threaten to tell Madame Annabelle that I had disobeyed her command.
I knew I had to wear it.
After all, sissies follow orders, they don’t disobey their mistress.
I stripped and put the two-piece on. I looked at myself in the hallway floor to ceiling mirror. I looked exactly like what I was: a pathetic, beta boi sissy bimbo.
As a result of my new eating and exercise regimen I had trimmed down and my flat stomach actually made my booty, which I had been squatting hard at least three hundred times a day, look even more juicy and feminine.
I felt my sissy dick start to get excited.
I knew though that as much as I would love to jerk my pathetic little cock in the mirror I had actually better get a move on because the two minutes I had been instructed to take was almost certainly coming to an end.
So there it was, like a perfect sissy beach slut I ran out to Madame Jennifer in nothing but a pair of pink Nike Air Max and matching pink two piece swimsuit.
I just had no idea what was lying in store for me at the beach.
**
We arrived at the beach and Jennifer parked the car in a free spot in the parking lot. I felt nervous, on the way to the beach Jennifer had driven slowly when overtaking other cars and made a point of hollering to the drivers and passengers. Often this met with receptive wolf whistles and really degrading comments aimed at me.
Jennifer had just laughed before speeding off.
She really was a confident and aggressive driver. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from her.
“Okay, sissy” Jennifer said. “Now I know you might be feeling nervous, but this is actually a private beach that is very accommodating of all different kinds of… activity… so you don’t have to worry about offending anyone or getting arrested. I have a question for you. Do you want to impress your Madame, make me happy, make me proud of you as my own sissy?”
I didn’t have to think twice to answer this question.
“Yes, Madame Jennifer,” I replied, totally meaning it. “I want nothing more than to make you proud of me as your sissy boi.”
“Good,” She said. “Now, follow me.”
Jennifer got out of the car and after removing her yoga workout clothing revealed herself to be in an incredibly classy, high cut bright white one-piece swimsuit. She looked incredible, and I mean stunning. Its cut perfectly accentuated her curves, her strength, her elegance. Within seconds I could see that she was getting admiring glances from others in the car park and on the short walk down to the beach.
The beach was quite a small, enclosed beach.
This was good in the sense that it meant there was a limit to how many people I would be exposed in front of, but on the other hand there were still loads of people here and it would be harder to blend in given that it was smaller.
Well, I had said that I would make her proud of me and I was determined to do that.
As I watched Jennifer stand, hands on hips, surveying the beach for a good spot for us I felt a surge of emotion. It was at that moment that it crystallised in my head: I was beginning to have the same feelings of love and admiration for Jennifer that I had for Annabelle.
“Stop daydreaming, slut!” Jennifer roared as she grabbed me by the ear and marched me over to her chosen spot for us to set up our beach towels and cool-box. I could hear people snickering and laughing, and caught some of them pointing as I was pulled by the taller, Amazonian Goddess that was Jennifer. I felt my face blush even harder as I caught a sight of a small group of big black men playing hacky sack together.
What was noticeable about them was that they were all very muscular, tall, and had incredibly prominent dick prints at the front of their wet shorts.
“Like the sight of that do you?” Jennifer asked as she threw me down on the beach towel. “Well?”
I knew better than to delay my response.
“Yes, Madame,” I said, my face a crimson red and aware that even saying that out loud was causing my dick to harden.
“Okay then,” She replied. “Well we’ll have to see about that.”
I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but I would be finding out soon enough.
That was one thing I was sure of.
**
We spent the next couple of hours relaxing and enjoying a bit of conversation in between my trips over to the beachside café. The staff at the café took great delight in taking a beverage order from a sissy like me. One server, a large African man called Servio slapped my butt-cheeks as I walked past with two ice creams. He laughed and I felt myself blush, kind of angry at the way he felt he could grab a piece of me without asking, but also kind of turned on by the fact he viewed me as nothing more than a plaything that was his to do with as he pleased.
I was in a haze as I walked back to Jennifer and must not have realised but my boner was poking out of the side of my bikini bottom.
“Sissy! What the absolute hell do you think you are doing exposing yourself without my permission!” Annabelle roared.
I apologised profusely but it was no good, she was furious.
She grabbed me, took the ice creams from me and placed them in the cool-box, and put me across her lap.
“Excuse me! Attentio
n please!” She bellowed in a loud and commanding voice that boomed across the length and breadth of the beach.
I turned my head and saw what appeared to be at least twenty people walking towards us from nearby.
I closed my eyes, I couldn’t bare to look.
This was the most public humiliation I had experienced.
I knew it would only get worse from here.
“Right everyone,” Jennifer said. “You may have noticed this little sissy wimp parading around the beach and I am sure you all had a good laugh at him, his jiggling sissy bottom, his pathetic beta male body, his lack of bulge at the front of his bikini. Well, I expect standards from him and for the bimbo to approach me with his pathetic, tiny little sissy clitty poking out of the side is simply not acceptable. Now, he will be punished. Any suggestions on how many spanks I should administer to begin with?”
The crowd laughed and began shouting out numbers for how many spanks they felt I should receive. I noticed people pulling out their cameras and phones, ready to make a record of my punishment.
“At least thirty!” A woman in a very revealing black bikini said. “Then make him do jumping jacks for us!”
“Let me give him twenty when you’re done!” A large, muscular man in small red speedos (with a huge dick print) said, confidently and with a sense of masculinity that was equal parts intimidating and, secretly, a big turn on.
“Make him eat out every ass on the beach!” A woman said, casually stroking the front of her big black husband’s swimming shorts.
I felt my dick hardening again.
I couldn’t help it.
Despite the massively humiliating and degrading nature of the suggestions, I was feeling a surge of excitement that I knew all too well. It was the thought of being treated like a sissy boi object that was getting me going.
I prayed that Madame Jennifer wouldn’t notice.