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Active Sissy Stories / Re: Philip’s Treatment Homage to Vicky’s, Lip Service by Wincy Willis/Khrissi Martin
« Last post by SissyCat on Today at 08:05:36 AM »
Chapter Seven
Philip woke up. His mother stared down at him as if she had been waiting for him to wake.
”No smile for Mother? Tsk!” His mother made an exaggerated frown and clicked her tongue as she stripped back the bedclothes.
“Come along up you get, Downstairs for your breakfast.”
Philip made his way downstairs into the kitchen and stared dumfounded. “Mmmmpff!”
He was so shocked he failed to react as his Mother lifted him up and hoisted him into the wooden high chair. Before he could even think straight the feeding tray was swung in front of him and clicked into place. His pyjama clad legs dangled helplessly in mid air. Philip was effectively imprisoned in a pink baby’s high chair.
Mother bustled back into the room. In one hand she held an oversized baby bottle full of red fruit juice and the pink teddy bear in the other.
”Baby must have his medicine and he needs Pinky Bear to keep him company!”
She tucked Pinky Bear into the crook of his pyjamaed arm then tilted the high chair backward rather like a dentist’s chair. His Mother unhooked the strap from behind his pacifier and he felt the pressure suddenly release. Her polished fingernail crooked into the ring and pulled out the dummy with an audible pop. Philip’s mouth, empty for the first time in hours, felt a blast of cold air. Before he could savour the freedom Mother had stuffed the rubber teat of the bottle deep into his surprised lips and the juice began to flow down his throat. She tilted it more steeply and the juice was pouring out even faster. Philip, in his vulnerable, prone position was helpless to prevent swallowing the sweet liquid and inevitably his bib and pyjamas became stained with an estuary of deep magenta.
Mother was obviously determined that he drained the bottle. As Philip suc-ked, the nipple made a vulgar spluttering sound as the last few drops of the juice drained. Mother removed the bottle and readjusted the high chair so that Philip was in an upright sitting position.
”Such a good little baby, Mother will only have good things to report to Dr Peabody won’t she?”
She said this with a hint of threat in her voice as she placed a bowl of porridge on the feeding tray in front of Philip. Heeding her warning he opened his mouth without protest as she scooped up the first spoonful and began to feed him. Normally Philip would have rejected porridge out of hand but it seemed so long since his last meal that he eagerly awaited each spoonful. So much so that it wasn’t long until the overspill mingled with the juice stains to form a messy gloop on his bib and pyjamas.
When the bowl was empty Philip smacked his lips hoping for more but his mother was already prepared with his dummy.
“Open wide for Mother.” Philip tried to protest but just as his lips began to part the bulbous tip of the dummy slid past his lips to the back of his throat, as his lips instinctively formed their “O” around the shaft.
Mother hooked on the elastic strap and the guard was once again tight against his lips.
His mother began making small circular motions with her hand on his pyjama clad back.
“Come along, let’s have windy-woos for mummy.”
Philip was acutely ashamed, as it wasn’t long before he gave a loud satisfying burp of wind.
Appearing pleased his Mother gave him a big sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.
“Hello is anyone here… oh my goodness!”
As Mrs Swenson poked her head into the kitchen, Philip wished he was anywhere but strapped in his high chair. His face reddened again, deep with embarrassment as the familiar shape of Hyacinth followed her mother.
The two females stared at the pink pyjama clad Philip sitting in the high chair being burped and apparently making such a mess that his bib and pyjamas were smeared with the remnants of his meal.
“ I see you have already put the high chair to good use then,” said Mrs Swenson, recovering her composure.
“Yes thank you so much for collecting it from Dr Peabody’s for me, it would have been a tight fit in my car and besides I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for baby Philip.”
Mrs Swenson continued to stare at the figure in the high chair. His mother’s use of the phrase,” baby Philip” had not escaped her attention.
Meanwhile Hyacinth sidled up to Philip who eyed his school colleague with suspicion.
“Oh look at the ickle babykins,” she cooed in a mocking tone. “Has baby Philip eaten up all his bweckfast? Is his tummy-tum all full den?”
As she spoke she pushed against his stomach with her hand. Already squeezed by the high chair food tray and full after a long sleep and drinking a bottle of Dr Peabody’s medicine his bladder once again gave way to the inevitable and proceeded to flood his nappy!
Hyacinth was to busy teasing Philip. “What a messy eater you are, looks like baby need a clean bib and a change of jim-jams. See what I have bought for…Oh look! He is doing it again!”
Mrs Swenson and mother turned toward Philip as he now sat squelching in a flood of his own pee.
“Not again,” his mother said angrily as she helped him down from the high chair. Do you like making wee-wee in front of Hyacinth? Is that it, are you doing this on purpose to embarrass me?”
Philip, close to tears shook his head and tried to explain.
“Ith wath the dwink and the powwidge and evthing!”
He was aware how babyish the sentence sounded and a long trickle of spittle dribbled down from behind his dummy onto his chin to join the mixture now encrusted on his pyjamas and bib.
Mother wasn’t listening; he could see her eyes were ablaze with anger as she proceeded to untie the pink mittens enabling her to strip him of his sodden, baby pink pyjamas.
She worked methodically but silently as the translucent pink plastic nappy cover was swiftly removed. She took off the oversized plastic bunny safety pins that held his terry towelling cloth nappy, moving the pee stained items perilously close to his tearstained face before depositing them in a hastily prepared nappy bucket.
Baby wipes and cream soothed and cleaned until he was ready to be nappied again.
“It looks like Mummy will have to use plenty of nappies to keep her baby from leaking all over Dr Peabody’s surgery!”
She said, pinning Philip into not one, not two, but three terry towelling nappies. Philip gave out a moan.
“Mmmmpff…”
He had forgotten that they had to make yet another trip to see Dr Peabody and now he would be seen wearing nappies!
His mother held up another pair of translucent baby pants only this pair had cartoon characters printed on them. He groaned once more as she eased them up over his legs and settled them over his nappies.
“ No good complaining about wearing nappy’s and baby pants when you act and behave exactly like a toddler is there?” Mother scolded.
“Now let’s get you dressed ready for Dr Peabody. I will find you some clean pyjamas Philip, they are the only things that will fit over those nappies.”
Philip was aghast at the thought of having to wear pyjamas to Dr Peabody’s surgery but in a few moments his predicament was to become even more disadvantageous!
From behind came a polite cough. Hyacinth urged her mother forward. “Go on Mother, give them to Mrs Lockhart.”
Mrs Swenson looked at the prostrate Philip as she spoke to his mother.
“I was explaining about Dr Peabody’s treatments and err… why Philip needed the pink pyjamas of Hyacinth’s that I donated to help calm him down and prevent his nervous habit becoming a life long affliction. That’s correct isn’t it?”
His mother nodded. ”Yes of course, Philip may have ended up with a lifelong affliction. Thank goodness Dr Peabody has been so helpful and understanding. Isn’t that right little Philip”?
As she spoke she curled her finger into the pink ring of his dummy and waggled it playfully from side to side causing the helpless Philips face to turn with the movement.
“Well then. In that case,” she continued, “Hyacinth remembered this pair of pyjamas that I bought her a couple of years ago, err… she wouldn’t wear them because they were too, err… how can I put it, well girly I suppose.”
“That’s right, “Hyacinth interrupted her mother.
“Far too frilly and pink for me but just right for Philip.”
She said this with apparent innocence giving Philip a long hard stare as he lay suc-king furtively on his dummy wearing triple nappies encased in pink plastic baby pants.
Mrs Swenson handed the pyjamas to his mother.
Mrs Lockhart smiled with pleasure as she handled the pyjamas.
“How wonderful, I bet Philip will look delightful in these, they will be just perfect.” She carefully examined the pyjamas by holding them up in front of Philip.
Philip’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The pyjamas were coloured shocking pink and made from brushed nylon material.
“Oh and we thought these slippers would be useful too,” she said handing over a pair of pink, knitted slippers. The tops were threaded with what seemed like a yard of pink ribbon.
” How lovely!” Exclaimed mother. “Now then Philip, what do you say to the nice ladies for donating your new pyjamas and slippers?”
Philip squirmed with displeasure; he knew a pair of baby bootees when he saw them not to mention the babyishly styled pyjamas. Mother was giving him her “behave or else” look so he had little option rather than to concur.
“Fwank oo ff mi pwjimath an thlippers laydeeth.” He lisped through his dummy, blushing wildly as mother started to dress him in the pyjamas as the Swenson’s looked on.
The pyjama top had a Peter Pan collar edged with frilled lace, as did the bodice. The cuffs were also lacy and as his arms were thrust into the sleeves Philip was aware of light elastic caressing his wrist. Slowly his mother buttoned him into the hideously babyish, girlish pyjama top. Her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she fastened the top button and smoothed down the Peter Pan collar.
Philip’s left arm involuntarily moved toward the button to undo it. “Ah-ah, Philip, you naughty, naughty boy. When are you going to learn to behave”?
Mother slapped away his hand and immediately began to tie on his mittens.
“There. That will stop any of your nonsense.” She said as she once again rendered Philip’s hands useless. A clean bib was tied around the frilly collar of his pyjama top and mother delighted in patting it down, nestling the bib against the frilly bodice of his pyjamas.
“ Nearly done baby Philip,” she said lifting his legs in the air and easing the pink pyjama bottoms over his feet. Philip blanched at the term “baby Philip”. But was more concerned about the bootees that she placed on his feet, securing each bootee on with a huge pink ribboned bow at each ankle
As mother stood him up, she pulled up the pyjama bottoms and adjusted the elasticised waistband before once again tucking the stupid teddy bear under his arm.
“Now I want to see you cuddling Pinky Bear all the time. Hyacinth has been very kind giving you her Teddy not to mention your lovely jim-jams so I want you to respect her gifts. Go on give Pinky Bear a kiss or do I have to tell Dr Peabody about your disobedience?” Mother threatened.
Mrs Swenson and especially Hyacinth beamed with pleasure as Philip very reluctantly nudged his dummy against the bear.
“Wave bye- bye to the nice ladies Philip.” Ordered mother as she led Philip by a mittened hand toward the car. Waddling uncomfortably thanks to the bulky nappies and struggling to hold on to that damn bear tucked under his arm, he eventually, after a prod from mother, half –heartedly waved to Hyacinth and Mrs Swenson who were waving at him in that demented way adults do to very young children.
Philip woke up. His mother stared down at him as if she had been waiting for him to wake.
”No smile for Mother? Tsk!” His mother made an exaggerated frown and clicked her tongue as she stripped back the bedclothes.
“Come along up you get, Downstairs for your breakfast.”
Philip made his way downstairs into the kitchen and stared dumfounded. “Mmmmpff!”
He was so shocked he failed to react as his Mother lifted him up and hoisted him into the wooden high chair. Before he could even think straight the feeding tray was swung in front of him and clicked into place. His pyjama clad legs dangled helplessly in mid air. Philip was effectively imprisoned in a pink baby’s high chair.
Mother bustled back into the room. In one hand she held an oversized baby bottle full of red fruit juice and the pink teddy bear in the other.
”Baby must have his medicine and he needs Pinky Bear to keep him company!”
She tucked Pinky Bear into the crook of his pyjamaed arm then tilted the high chair backward rather like a dentist’s chair. His Mother unhooked the strap from behind his pacifier and he felt the pressure suddenly release. Her polished fingernail crooked into the ring and pulled out the dummy with an audible pop. Philip’s mouth, empty for the first time in hours, felt a blast of cold air. Before he could savour the freedom Mother had stuffed the rubber teat of the bottle deep into his surprised lips and the juice began to flow down his throat. She tilted it more steeply and the juice was pouring out even faster. Philip, in his vulnerable, prone position was helpless to prevent swallowing the sweet liquid and inevitably his bib and pyjamas became stained with an estuary of deep magenta.
Mother was obviously determined that he drained the bottle. As Philip suc-ked, the nipple made a vulgar spluttering sound as the last few drops of the juice drained. Mother removed the bottle and readjusted the high chair so that Philip was in an upright sitting position.
”Such a good little baby, Mother will only have good things to report to Dr Peabody won’t she?”
She said this with a hint of threat in her voice as she placed a bowl of porridge on the feeding tray in front of Philip. Heeding her warning he opened his mouth without protest as she scooped up the first spoonful and began to feed him. Normally Philip would have rejected porridge out of hand but it seemed so long since his last meal that he eagerly awaited each spoonful. So much so that it wasn’t long until the overspill mingled with the juice stains to form a messy gloop on his bib and pyjamas.
When the bowl was empty Philip smacked his lips hoping for more but his mother was already prepared with his dummy.
“Open wide for Mother.” Philip tried to protest but just as his lips began to part the bulbous tip of the dummy slid past his lips to the back of his throat, as his lips instinctively formed their “O” around the shaft.
Mother hooked on the elastic strap and the guard was once again tight against his lips.
His mother began making small circular motions with her hand on his pyjama clad back.
“Come along, let’s have windy-woos for mummy.”
Philip was acutely ashamed, as it wasn’t long before he gave a loud satisfying burp of wind.
Appearing pleased his Mother gave him a big sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.
“Hello is anyone here… oh my goodness!”
As Mrs Swenson poked her head into the kitchen, Philip wished he was anywhere but strapped in his high chair. His face reddened again, deep with embarrassment as the familiar shape of Hyacinth followed her mother.
The two females stared at the pink pyjama clad Philip sitting in the high chair being burped and apparently making such a mess that his bib and pyjamas were smeared with the remnants of his meal.
“ I see you have already put the high chair to good use then,” said Mrs Swenson, recovering her composure.
“Yes thank you so much for collecting it from Dr Peabody’s for me, it would have been a tight fit in my car and besides I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for baby Philip.”
Mrs Swenson continued to stare at the figure in the high chair. His mother’s use of the phrase,” baby Philip” had not escaped her attention.
Meanwhile Hyacinth sidled up to Philip who eyed his school colleague with suspicion.
“Oh look at the ickle babykins,” she cooed in a mocking tone. “Has baby Philip eaten up all his bweckfast? Is his tummy-tum all full den?”
As she spoke she pushed against his stomach with her hand. Already squeezed by the high chair food tray and full after a long sleep and drinking a bottle of Dr Peabody’s medicine his bladder once again gave way to the inevitable and proceeded to flood his nappy!
Hyacinth was to busy teasing Philip. “What a messy eater you are, looks like baby need a clean bib and a change of jim-jams. See what I have bought for…Oh look! He is doing it again!”
Mrs Swenson and mother turned toward Philip as he now sat squelching in a flood of his own pee.
“Not again,” his mother said angrily as she helped him down from the high chair. Do you like making wee-wee in front of Hyacinth? Is that it, are you doing this on purpose to embarrass me?”
Philip, close to tears shook his head and tried to explain.
“Ith wath the dwink and the powwidge and evthing!”
He was aware how babyish the sentence sounded and a long trickle of spittle dribbled down from behind his dummy onto his chin to join the mixture now encrusted on his pyjamas and bib.
Mother wasn’t listening; he could see her eyes were ablaze with anger as she proceeded to untie the pink mittens enabling her to strip him of his sodden, baby pink pyjamas.
She worked methodically but silently as the translucent pink plastic nappy cover was swiftly removed. She took off the oversized plastic bunny safety pins that held his terry towelling cloth nappy, moving the pee stained items perilously close to his tearstained face before depositing them in a hastily prepared nappy bucket.
Baby wipes and cream soothed and cleaned until he was ready to be nappied again.
“It looks like Mummy will have to use plenty of nappies to keep her baby from leaking all over Dr Peabody’s surgery!”
She said, pinning Philip into not one, not two, but three terry towelling nappies. Philip gave out a moan.
“Mmmmpff…”
He had forgotten that they had to make yet another trip to see Dr Peabody and now he would be seen wearing nappies!
His mother held up another pair of translucent baby pants only this pair had cartoon characters printed on them. He groaned once more as she eased them up over his legs and settled them over his nappies.
“ No good complaining about wearing nappy’s and baby pants when you act and behave exactly like a toddler is there?” Mother scolded.
“Now let’s get you dressed ready for Dr Peabody. I will find you some clean pyjamas Philip, they are the only things that will fit over those nappies.”
Philip was aghast at the thought of having to wear pyjamas to Dr Peabody’s surgery but in a few moments his predicament was to become even more disadvantageous!
From behind came a polite cough. Hyacinth urged her mother forward. “Go on Mother, give them to Mrs Lockhart.”
Mrs Swenson looked at the prostrate Philip as she spoke to his mother.
“I was explaining about Dr Peabody’s treatments and err… why Philip needed the pink pyjamas of Hyacinth’s that I donated to help calm him down and prevent his nervous habit becoming a life long affliction. That’s correct isn’t it?”
His mother nodded. ”Yes of course, Philip may have ended up with a lifelong affliction. Thank goodness Dr Peabody has been so helpful and understanding. Isn’t that right little Philip”?
As she spoke she curled her finger into the pink ring of his dummy and waggled it playfully from side to side causing the helpless Philips face to turn with the movement.
“Well then. In that case,” she continued, “Hyacinth remembered this pair of pyjamas that I bought her a couple of years ago, err… she wouldn’t wear them because they were too, err… how can I put it, well girly I suppose.”
“That’s right, “Hyacinth interrupted her mother.
“Far too frilly and pink for me but just right for Philip.”
She said this with apparent innocence giving Philip a long hard stare as he lay suc-king furtively on his dummy wearing triple nappies encased in pink plastic baby pants.
Mrs Swenson handed the pyjamas to his mother.
Mrs Lockhart smiled with pleasure as she handled the pyjamas.
“How wonderful, I bet Philip will look delightful in these, they will be just perfect.” She carefully examined the pyjamas by holding them up in front of Philip.
Philip’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The pyjamas were coloured shocking pink and made from brushed nylon material.
“Oh and we thought these slippers would be useful too,” she said handing over a pair of pink, knitted slippers. The tops were threaded with what seemed like a yard of pink ribbon.
” How lovely!” Exclaimed mother. “Now then Philip, what do you say to the nice ladies for donating your new pyjamas and slippers?”
Philip squirmed with displeasure; he knew a pair of baby bootees when he saw them not to mention the babyishly styled pyjamas. Mother was giving him her “behave or else” look so he had little option rather than to concur.
“Fwank oo ff mi pwjimath an thlippers laydeeth.” He lisped through his dummy, blushing wildly as mother started to dress him in the pyjamas as the Swenson’s looked on.
The pyjama top had a Peter Pan collar edged with frilled lace, as did the bodice. The cuffs were also lacy and as his arms were thrust into the sleeves Philip was aware of light elastic caressing his wrist. Slowly his mother buttoned him into the hideously babyish, girlish pyjama top. Her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she fastened the top button and smoothed down the Peter Pan collar.
Philip’s left arm involuntarily moved toward the button to undo it. “Ah-ah, Philip, you naughty, naughty boy. When are you going to learn to behave”?
Mother slapped away his hand and immediately began to tie on his mittens.
“There. That will stop any of your nonsense.” She said as she once again rendered Philip’s hands useless. A clean bib was tied around the frilly collar of his pyjama top and mother delighted in patting it down, nestling the bib against the frilly bodice of his pyjamas.
“ Nearly done baby Philip,” she said lifting his legs in the air and easing the pink pyjama bottoms over his feet. Philip blanched at the term “baby Philip”. But was more concerned about the bootees that she placed on his feet, securing each bootee on with a huge pink ribboned bow at each ankle
As mother stood him up, she pulled up the pyjama bottoms and adjusted the elasticised waistband before once again tucking the stupid teddy bear under his arm.
“Now I want to see you cuddling Pinky Bear all the time. Hyacinth has been very kind giving you her Teddy not to mention your lovely jim-jams so I want you to respect her gifts. Go on give Pinky Bear a kiss or do I have to tell Dr Peabody about your disobedience?” Mother threatened.
Mrs Swenson and especially Hyacinth beamed with pleasure as Philip very reluctantly nudged his dummy against the bear.
“Wave bye- bye to the nice ladies Philip.” Ordered mother as she led Philip by a mittened hand toward the car. Waddling uncomfortably thanks to the bulky nappies and struggling to hold on to that damn bear tucked under his arm, he eventually, after a prod from mother, half –heartedly waved to Hyacinth and Mrs Swenson who were waving at him in that demented way adults do to very young children.
2
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Philip’s Treatment Homage to Vicky’s, Lip Service by Wincy Willis/Khrissi Martin
« Last post by BabyJay on Today at 07:47:20 AM »
Looks like His Mothers and Dr Peabody's plan is working nicely. Looking forward to seeing how His regression to babyhood progresses.
3
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Philip’s Treatment Homage to Vicky’s, Lip Service by Wincy Willis/Khrissi Martin
« Last post by bonzodoug on Today at 07:42:56 AM »
Wow! So intense!!
Hard to believe this all just started with him biting his lip.
I wonder if 'horsey rides' are going to start happening in real life as well as his dreams.
I really hope Hyancith gets more involved, maybe by teaching him what those trained lips and tongue are for!
Hard to believe this all just started with him biting his lip.
I wonder if 'horsey rides' are going to start happening in real life as well as his dreams.
I really hope Hyancith gets more involved, maybe by teaching him what those trained lips and tongue are for!
4
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Philip’s Treatment Homage to Vicky’s, Lip Service by Wincy Willis/Khrissi Martin
« Last post by SissyCat on Yesterday at 08:57:32 AM »
Chapter Five
Philip felt like he was in a fog. There was a strange throbbing feeling, but it felt far away. A large shiny high-heeled shoe loomed into Philip’s field of vision. It seemed too large, but Philip recognized it immediately—Dr Leticia Peabody. He was wearing his pyjamas, bib and mittens; the dummy was strapped firmly in his mouth. Suddenly she was holding his mittened hands and was placing him over her shoe like she was going to give him a “horsey ride.” That was impossible, he was far too old for that! The shoe seemed enormous, the crotch of his pink pyjamas was nestled in the instep of Dr Peabody’s foot and the pointy toe of the shoe seemed to curl up between his legs until it was nestled in his bum crack. He tried to pull away but she had him in an unyielding grip. The throbbing began to grow more intense, and was coming from between his legs where he was so firmly settled on Dr Peabody’ shoe. She looked down and started to laugh as she lifted him up and down. In the corner his mother was standing beside a huge clock, clapping her hands in time to the rocking. Dr Peabody spoke to him in a condescending babyish voice.
“What a silly Philly. One more horsey ride then it’s bedtime for little Philip” His mother was now pointing to the clock. Even as he bounced up and down, up and down he could see the clock was set at 3pm. “ Noooooo!” He was shouting through the dummy. The throbbing between Philip’s legs became more acute, as if a magnifying glass was focusing it into a tiny concentrated spot.
”Ooh Mother look, he is waking up.”
A familiar voice pierced Philip’s fuzzy mind. The bizarre dream melted away. A woman’s face was hovering over Philip. He realised he was still in bed with his blankets tucked in tightly up to his chin. His arms were pinned under the blankets and as his hands were rendered useless in the pink mittens, he couldn’t work up the leverage to free himself. The saliva was running straight down the back of his throat as his lips tightly gripped the shaft of his dummy.
The woman leaned forward and Philip recognised Mrs Swenson. In that case, oh no, the voice that woke him had to be….
Hyacinth Swenson’s features loomed into view.
“Hello Philip, I am pleased you are wearing my pyjamas I wore when I was a little girl!” She said mockingly as she smiled down at him.
“Now Hyacinth,” said her Mother. “Philip is only following the treatment recommended by Dr Peabody so no teasing please.”
It was then that he realised that the pressure in his bladder was severe. He desperately needed to relieve himself. Normally he would have bounded out of bed but he was helplessly trapped while the Swenson’s gazed down at him. He had to get out of this bed. He writhed and wriggled feebly, the exertion causing him to make loud involuntary suc-king sounds as he panted around his dummy. Where was his mother?
”Mpppppppfffffffff!” Philip’s voice croaked unintelligibly when he tried to speak. He had forgotten about the dummy and his words made no sense.
”What is it dear?” Mrs Swenson asked and leaned closer to Philip’s face. As she did so she inadvertedly pressured his bursting bladder. To Philip’s horror he began to wet himself. Once it started he couldn’t stop. Philip was distraught as he felt like he was having possibly the longest pee of his life!
”The big baby, he’s wetting the bed!” Exclaimed Hyacinth.
What on earth are they doing here? Philip thought as she continued. “You need a nappy Philip!” He would have said something scathing but the huge wet stain that was soaking into his sheets was taking all his attention.
“Mppppff!”
Philip was relieved when his entered the room “Has he behaved himself?” She asked, addressing Mrs Swenson.
”Oh Rita, I am afraid he has just wet the bed. He had slept like a baby the whole time you were gone, suc-king contentedly on his dummy. Suddenly he started thrashing about under the covers and when we went to check on him we notice the bed was err… quite wet.”
Philip’s Mother came and stood directly over him. She grabbed the blankets and pulled them down with one hard pull. Philip was completely exposed as a bed wetter; the large wet stain on the front of his pyjamas had spread to his chest and knees and he lay in an even bigger wet spot that was centred under his wet pyjama clad bottom.
Philip looked at his mother with pleading eyes. No, this wasn’t his fault. He tried to say something and managed to spray saliva onto the front of his bib. His frustration became so great that he could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He banged his pink mittened fists against the mattress and tears started to well in the corner of his eyes. No! He was going to start crying!
His Mother, put a warning finger to her lips. Philip forced himself to calm down. He had to make her see that this was not his fault!
His Mother turned and thanked Mrs Swenson and Hyacinth for “babysitting.” The word made Philip’s ears burn as he lay there forlornly in his sopping pink pyjamas and suc-king his dummy.
”No trouble at all Rita, Hyacinth loves babysitting She would love the chance to put Philip into his jim-jams and tuck him into beddybyes, Hyacinth is hoping to go into childcare and become a nanny so she would be grateful for the experience. Look, she even sensed that Philip would like a teddy bear to comfort him. Poor Philip, he already seems quite fond of it.”
Puzzled, Philip turned to the side and the ring of his dummy bumped against a pink teddy bear with plush fur and pink satin belly that had been placed beside him while he slept.
Oh look, baby has given Pink Bear a kiss, did you see? Asked Hyacinth.
”Come along baby, give Pinky Bear another kiss,” she urged this time.
“You heard Hyacinth darling.” His Mother was looking at him pointedly. Philip, still breathing heavily, turned and looked at the bear. He quickly touched the ring of his dummy to the bear’s side and pulled away. Hyacinth clapped her hands with delight then turned to Philips Mother.
“Do you need any help to change Philip’s pyjamas?” Hyacinth asked, still exuberant at the predicament of her classmate.
She pause before continuing, “I would be happy to change his nappies if you decide he needs them and as Mummy said I would get him ready for bed and tuck him up if required.”
Philip couldn’t believe what was coming out of Hyacinth’s mouth and started to shake his head wildly.
”Mmmmpff”! He tried to exclaim in frustration, as a drool of saliva dribbled down his chin.
”That’s very kind Hyacinth,” Philip’s Mother said, pointedly wiping her son’s chin. “I shall certainly keep you in mind if I require any help.”
Chapter Six
His mother looked at Philip and pointed at the floor in front of her. Shamefacedly, Philip got out of the sopping wet bed and stood where his Mother indicated. His pink cloud pyjama bottoms drooped from the heavy wetness of the material. She removed the hand restraints and bib and peeled off the wet pyjamas. He put his hands in front of himself, ashamed of his nakedness but his Mother impatiently slapped his hands away.
Philip’s mother hooked her finger into the ring of the dummy and started to march Philip toward the bathroom. He almost tripped as he struggled to keep up with her. He had never felt so humiliated.
She ran the bath then took out a box of her bubble bath and poured it in. The perfume scent wafted into Philip’s nostrils. Then she added some bath oils with their own strong floral fragrances. As steam filled the room, Philip’s Mother started smearing a white cream all over him.
As she lathered it over him he experienced a hot, almost burning sensation. Her stern glance told him to stand still and not to complain. He suc-ked furtively on his dummy. Just when it became almost unbearable, his Mother directed him into the bubble bath. The scented oily water seemed to permeate his skin.
He soaked for what seemed to be a long time. He could hear activity in the next room.
His Mother returned clutching a washcloth; she began to scrub him vigorously. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d bathed him but she acted as if it had been yesterday. She scrubbed him from head to toe, even behind his ears.
She encompassed his pen-is and testicles in the soapy washcloth and squeezed and scrubbed to such an extent he became partly aroused, much to his intense embarrassment. His Mother seemed oblivious to the fact and took no notice. She applied more soap to the washcloth and got a rich lather up. She wound the soapy washcloth tightly around her manicured finger.
”Now I’ll have to get my nails done again.” She commented before she thrust her finger up his bottom. Philip grimaced as she briskly began cleaning his bum, pressing deep into his bum crack. The soapy washcloth covered finger pressed against his rosebud until it poked inside. Philip’s mother turned it like a corkscrew. Philip let a whimper of protest escape from around the shaft of his dummy.
”Stop fussing you baby!”
His Mother probed more deeply with the slippery washcloth as if to emphasize that she was going to do exactly as she pleased from now on and nothing he did or said was going to change a thing.
Mother rinsed him down with clean water. His skin felt odd, tingling all over. It was then he realised that he didn’t have a single hair left anywhere on his body. His pubic region was as smooth as it was when he was a little boy. Mother towelled him dry roughly. She took him by the hand and led him back to his bedroom; the bed had been stripped bare.
”The mattress is ruined. You will just have to sleep with mummy tonight until I can make other arrangements. You’re going the right way to find yourself back sleeping in your cot if you continue to behave like a baby!” Threatened his Mother.
Phillip stared up at her with disbelief as she led him quickly by the hand to her own bedroom. He had slept in his cot until he was eight years old until she had finally relented and bought him a bed.
”Lie down on your back,” she ordered. He did so with trepidation. His mother started smearing ointment over his smooth bottom. It felt cold and slick. She worked it over his pen-is and testicles, making him squirm. The strong talc smell of baby powder filled his nostrils as she liberally sprinkled it all over. Baby powder? Oh please no . . .
“See what happens when you start acting like a little baby? My son the bed wetter! Well let me tell you. You’re not going to be ruining any more mattresses! When Dr Peabody gave me these nappy’s and plastic panties I assured her that my little Philip was not a bedwetting little baby but she obviously knew something that I didn’t. You have made a fool of me Philip!”
His Mother lifted the seventeen year olds legs and thrust a fluffy nappy under his bottom.
”You are going to be dressed in nappy’s and pyjamas from now on until you prove you can be trusted to go to the toilet like a big boy, do you understand?”
Without waiting for a reply she took out an oversized safety pin with a pink plastic bunny on the head and pinned the cloth nappy in place on one side and repeated the process on the other side. She went back and forth, re-pinning the nappy until it was snug against his skin.
Picking up a translucent, pink plastic pair of baby pants with elastic around the waist and leg openings, she pulled then up snugly over the nappy. They crackled noisily as she pulled his feet through the holes making sure the towelling nappy was completely covered by the plastic.
Philip had his eyes tightly shut throughout this experience as though this waking nightmare would disappear if he chose not to look. Unseen then, his mother unfurled a pair of newly purchased pyjamas. She eased his legs into pink, brushed cotton pyjamas. The material felt soft and comforting against his freshly powdered skin as she manoeuvred his arms into the sleeves. It was only when she buttoned up the pyjama jacket and he opened his eyes that he realised he was actually wearing pink floral pyjamas!
“Yes that’s right Philip. I bought you three new pairs of pink pyjamas to comply with Doctor Peabody’s advice and if you continue to behave like a baby I can’t see you ever wearing anything but pink jim-jams ever again!”
Before he could even contemplate the horror of his pyjamas she had fastened on the first mitten and was lacing it tight. Soon its twin was in place. His mother took a fresh bib and tied it around his neck with the white towelling side facing outwards.
”Now then, time for beddy-byes.” Philip shook his head vigorously, not bedtime surely, he had just had a long nap. He glanced at the bedside clock, three thirty! Even Doctor Peabody had said six o’clock!
“Oh I see, the good behaviour hasn’t lasted, well let me tell you that I will be putting you to beddybyes whenever you disobey or annoy me. Since you will be permanently dressed in your nappies and your baby jim-jams that will be quite easy especially after you receive your bedtime spanking!”
Philip found himself once again draped over her lap. His mother reached down and removed her pink, fur-trimmed slipper. Quickly she built up a rhythm as she spanked, not his nappy clad bottom but his upper legs. The pain was unbearable, his pyjamas offered little protection and soon he was writhing and spluttering through his dummy, begging her to stop.
“Now, are you going to do as you are told and go to beddy-byes for mummy like a good little boy?”
Philip nodded miserably, anything to stop the pain and humiliation of the spanking.
“Goodness knows what Dr Peabody will have to say about all this when I tell her!”
She helped him into the bed and pulled the covers up to his chest, tucking him in so tight that movement was out of the question. She tousled his hair and kissed him night-night with a satisfied expression.
Philip felt like he was in a fog. There was a strange throbbing feeling, but it felt far away. A large shiny high-heeled shoe loomed into Philip’s field of vision. It seemed too large, but Philip recognized it immediately—Dr Leticia Peabody. He was wearing his pyjamas, bib and mittens; the dummy was strapped firmly in his mouth. Suddenly she was holding his mittened hands and was placing him over her shoe like she was going to give him a “horsey ride.” That was impossible, he was far too old for that! The shoe seemed enormous, the crotch of his pink pyjamas was nestled in the instep of Dr Peabody’s foot and the pointy toe of the shoe seemed to curl up between his legs until it was nestled in his bum crack. He tried to pull away but she had him in an unyielding grip. The throbbing began to grow more intense, and was coming from between his legs where he was so firmly settled on Dr Peabody’ shoe. She looked down and started to laugh as she lifted him up and down. In the corner his mother was standing beside a huge clock, clapping her hands in time to the rocking. Dr Peabody spoke to him in a condescending babyish voice.
“What a silly Philly. One more horsey ride then it’s bedtime for little Philip” His mother was now pointing to the clock. Even as he bounced up and down, up and down he could see the clock was set at 3pm. “ Noooooo!” He was shouting through the dummy. The throbbing between Philip’s legs became more acute, as if a magnifying glass was focusing it into a tiny concentrated spot.
”Ooh Mother look, he is waking up.”
A familiar voice pierced Philip’s fuzzy mind. The bizarre dream melted away. A woman’s face was hovering over Philip. He realised he was still in bed with his blankets tucked in tightly up to his chin. His arms were pinned under the blankets and as his hands were rendered useless in the pink mittens, he couldn’t work up the leverage to free himself. The saliva was running straight down the back of his throat as his lips tightly gripped the shaft of his dummy.
The woman leaned forward and Philip recognised Mrs Swenson. In that case, oh no, the voice that woke him had to be….
Hyacinth Swenson’s features loomed into view.
“Hello Philip, I am pleased you are wearing my pyjamas I wore when I was a little girl!” She said mockingly as she smiled down at him.
“Now Hyacinth,” said her Mother. “Philip is only following the treatment recommended by Dr Peabody so no teasing please.”
It was then that he realised that the pressure in his bladder was severe. He desperately needed to relieve himself. Normally he would have bounded out of bed but he was helplessly trapped while the Swenson’s gazed down at him. He had to get out of this bed. He writhed and wriggled feebly, the exertion causing him to make loud involuntary suc-king sounds as he panted around his dummy. Where was his mother?
”Mpppppppfffffffff!” Philip’s voice croaked unintelligibly when he tried to speak. He had forgotten about the dummy and his words made no sense.
”What is it dear?” Mrs Swenson asked and leaned closer to Philip’s face. As she did so she inadvertedly pressured his bursting bladder. To Philip’s horror he began to wet himself. Once it started he couldn’t stop. Philip was distraught as he felt like he was having possibly the longest pee of his life!
”The big baby, he’s wetting the bed!” Exclaimed Hyacinth.
What on earth are they doing here? Philip thought as she continued. “You need a nappy Philip!” He would have said something scathing but the huge wet stain that was soaking into his sheets was taking all his attention.
“Mppppff!”
Philip was relieved when his entered the room “Has he behaved himself?” She asked, addressing Mrs Swenson.
”Oh Rita, I am afraid he has just wet the bed. He had slept like a baby the whole time you were gone, suc-king contentedly on his dummy. Suddenly he started thrashing about under the covers and when we went to check on him we notice the bed was err… quite wet.”
Philip’s Mother came and stood directly over him. She grabbed the blankets and pulled them down with one hard pull. Philip was completely exposed as a bed wetter; the large wet stain on the front of his pyjamas had spread to his chest and knees and he lay in an even bigger wet spot that was centred under his wet pyjama clad bottom.
Philip looked at his mother with pleading eyes. No, this wasn’t his fault. He tried to say something and managed to spray saliva onto the front of his bib. His frustration became so great that he could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He banged his pink mittened fists against the mattress and tears started to well in the corner of his eyes. No! He was going to start crying!
His Mother, put a warning finger to her lips. Philip forced himself to calm down. He had to make her see that this was not his fault!
His Mother turned and thanked Mrs Swenson and Hyacinth for “babysitting.” The word made Philip’s ears burn as he lay there forlornly in his sopping pink pyjamas and suc-king his dummy.
”No trouble at all Rita, Hyacinth loves babysitting She would love the chance to put Philip into his jim-jams and tuck him into beddybyes, Hyacinth is hoping to go into childcare and become a nanny so she would be grateful for the experience. Look, she even sensed that Philip would like a teddy bear to comfort him. Poor Philip, he already seems quite fond of it.”
Puzzled, Philip turned to the side and the ring of his dummy bumped against a pink teddy bear with plush fur and pink satin belly that had been placed beside him while he slept.
Oh look, baby has given Pink Bear a kiss, did you see? Asked Hyacinth.
”Come along baby, give Pinky Bear another kiss,” she urged this time.
“You heard Hyacinth darling.” His Mother was looking at him pointedly. Philip, still breathing heavily, turned and looked at the bear. He quickly touched the ring of his dummy to the bear’s side and pulled away. Hyacinth clapped her hands with delight then turned to Philips Mother.
“Do you need any help to change Philip’s pyjamas?” Hyacinth asked, still exuberant at the predicament of her classmate.
She pause before continuing, “I would be happy to change his nappies if you decide he needs them and as Mummy said I would get him ready for bed and tuck him up if required.”
Philip couldn’t believe what was coming out of Hyacinth’s mouth and started to shake his head wildly.
”Mmmmpff”! He tried to exclaim in frustration, as a drool of saliva dribbled down his chin.
”That’s very kind Hyacinth,” Philip’s Mother said, pointedly wiping her son’s chin. “I shall certainly keep you in mind if I require any help.”
Chapter Six
His mother looked at Philip and pointed at the floor in front of her. Shamefacedly, Philip got out of the sopping wet bed and stood where his Mother indicated. His pink cloud pyjama bottoms drooped from the heavy wetness of the material. She removed the hand restraints and bib and peeled off the wet pyjamas. He put his hands in front of himself, ashamed of his nakedness but his Mother impatiently slapped his hands away.
Philip’s mother hooked her finger into the ring of the dummy and started to march Philip toward the bathroom. He almost tripped as he struggled to keep up with her. He had never felt so humiliated.
She ran the bath then took out a box of her bubble bath and poured it in. The perfume scent wafted into Philip’s nostrils. Then she added some bath oils with their own strong floral fragrances. As steam filled the room, Philip’s Mother started smearing a white cream all over him.
As she lathered it over him he experienced a hot, almost burning sensation. Her stern glance told him to stand still and not to complain. He suc-ked furtively on his dummy. Just when it became almost unbearable, his Mother directed him into the bubble bath. The scented oily water seemed to permeate his skin.
He soaked for what seemed to be a long time. He could hear activity in the next room.
His Mother returned clutching a washcloth; she began to scrub him vigorously. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d bathed him but she acted as if it had been yesterday. She scrubbed him from head to toe, even behind his ears.
She encompassed his pen-is and testicles in the soapy washcloth and squeezed and scrubbed to such an extent he became partly aroused, much to his intense embarrassment. His Mother seemed oblivious to the fact and took no notice. She applied more soap to the washcloth and got a rich lather up. She wound the soapy washcloth tightly around her manicured finger.
”Now I’ll have to get my nails done again.” She commented before she thrust her finger up his bottom. Philip grimaced as she briskly began cleaning his bum, pressing deep into his bum crack. The soapy washcloth covered finger pressed against his rosebud until it poked inside. Philip’s mother turned it like a corkscrew. Philip let a whimper of protest escape from around the shaft of his dummy.
”Stop fussing you baby!”
His Mother probed more deeply with the slippery washcloth as if to emphasize that she was going to do exactly as she pleased from now on and nothing he did or said was going to change a thing.
Mother rinsed him down with clean water. His skin felt odd, tingling all over. It was then he realised that he didn’t have a single hair left anywhere on his body. His pubic region was as smooth as it was when he was a little boy. Mother towelled him dry roughly. She took him by the hand and led him back to his bedroom; the bed had been stripped bare.
”The mattress is ruined. You will just have to sleep with mummy tonight until I can make other arrangements. You’re going the right way to find yourself back sleeping in your cot if you continue to behave like a baby!” Threatened his Mother.
Phillip stared up at her with disbelief as she led him quickly by the hand to her own bedroom. He had slept in his cot until he was eight years old until she had finally relented and bought him a bed.
”Lie down on your back,” she ordered. He did so with trepidation. His mother started smearing ointment over his smooth bottom. It felt cold and slick. She worked it over his pen-is and testicles, making him squirm. The strong talc smell of baby powder filled his nostrils as she liberally sprinkled it all over. Baby powder? Oh please no . . .
“See what happens when you start acting like a little baby? My son the bed wetter! Well let me tell you. You’re not going to be ruining any more mattresses! When Dr Peabody gave me these nappy’s and plastic panties I assured her that my little Philip was not a bedwetting little baby but she obviously knew something that I didn’t. You have made a fool of me Philip!”
His Mother lifted the seventeen year olds legs and thrust a fluffy nappy under his bottom.
”You are going to be dressed in nappy’s and pyjamas from now on until you prove you can be trusted to go to the toilet like a big boy, do you understand?”
Without waiting for a reply she took out an oversized safety pin with a pink plastic bunny on the head and pinned the cloth nappy in place on one side and repeated the process on the other side. She went back and forth, re-pinning the nappy until it was snug against his skin.
Picking up a translucent, pink plastic pair of baby pants with elastic around the waist and leg openings, she pulled then up snugly over the nappy. They crackled noisily as she pulled his feet through the holes making sure the towelling nappy was completely covered by the plastic.
Philip had his eyes tightly shut throughout this experience as though this waking nightmare would disappear if he chose not to look. Unseen then, his mother unfurled a pair of newly purchased pyjamas. She eased his legs into pink, brushed cotton pyjamas. The material felt soft and comforting against his freshly powdered skin as she manoeuvred his arms into the sleeves. It was only when she buttoned up the pyjama jacket and he opened his eyes that he realised he was actually wearing pink floral pyjamas!
“Yes that’s right Philip. I bought you three new pairs of pink pyjamas to comply with Doctor Peabody’s advice and if you continue to behave like a baby I can’t see you ever wearing anything but pink jim-jams ever again!”
Before he could even contemplate the horror of his pyjamas she had fastened on the first mitten and was lacing it tight. Soon its twin was in place. His mother took a fresh bib and tied it around his neck with the white towelling side facing outwards.
”Now then, time for beddy-byes.” Philip shook his head vigorously, not bedtime surely, he had just had a long nap. He glanced at the bedside clock, three thirty! Even Doctor Peabody had said six o’clock!
“Oh I see, the good behaviour hasn’t lasted, well let me tell you that I will be putting you to beddybyes whenever you disobey or annoy me. Since you will be permanently dressed in your nappies and your baby jim-jams that will be quite easy especially after you receive your bedtime spanking!”
Philip found himself once again draped over her lap. His mother reached down and removed her pink, fur-trimmed slipper. Quickly she built up a rhythm as she spanked, not his nappy clad bottom but his upper legs. The pain was unbearable, his pyjamas offered little protection and soon he was writhing and spluttering through his dummy, begging her to stop.
“Now, are you going to do as you are told and go to beddy-byes for mummy like a good little boy?”
Philip nodded miserably, anything to stop the pain and humiliation of the spanking.
“Goodness knows what Dr Peabody will have to say about all this when I tell her!”
She helped him into the bed and pulled the covers up to his chest, tucking him in so tight that movement was out of the question. She tousled his hair and kissed him night-night with a satisfied expression.
5
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on Yesterday at 05:54:00 AM »
Chapter 337.
They let Tim sleep in that Sunday. It was the last day of November. The women were all in the breakfast room. Over coffee, Serena related the events of the previous day to the others, and showed them such pictures as she had manged to take.
“So you would say he was a success?” asked Cassandra.
“Mum, he was a fuc-king hit! I’m telling you, he was, like, the main attraction! I have a list of names and phone numbers of people who want to hire him. And Deborah was delighted, not only with his performance in church, but in the way he entertained her guests. “They won’t forget my wedding for a while,” she said to me. No, you should be proud of him. And he was really enjoying himself, too. You should have seen the way he was showing off to all the ladies.”
“Excellent… And did he manage to stay, shall we say, well-behaved?”
Serena laughed. “Yes, right up until we were about to leave. He was so focussed on pleasing all his admirers, I don’t think he had time even to consider pleasuring himself!”
“Good boy. This opens up a whole new role for him. Text me that list, won’t you? I should start making a calendar.”
“So what’s happening this week?” asked Priscilla.
“So Cynthia tells me the new stuff will be in Wednesday afternoon,” said Cassandra. “We can collect it Thursday first thing and do the photoshoot.”
“That’s for the new brochure, right?” asked Nicola.
“Yes… And anything else. We’ve got limited space in the brochure, but we can put multiple photos on the website for people to choose from.”
“Mum…about the photoshoot…”
“Yes, dear?”
“Have you got a venue in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking of the park… There’s a play area there, with a climbing frame. There shouldn’t be many people about on a Thursday…”
“I was wondering. Tim’s desperate to see Bobby. I was thinking maybe the stables would be a good place, and he and Bobby could get together after we were done. Actually there’s quite a nice play area there, if you wanted one, behind the new stable block.”
Cassandra thought for a moment. “That’s a brilliant idea, Serena. It would work perfectly. It’s near Fantastex. And there’d be a few girls about to add a bit of atmosphere. I’ll ask Violet today. I’m sure she’ll agree.”
“He’ll be so happy, mum. By the way, today’s his official day off, yeah?”
“Well, it was supposed to be. But Violet’s already had some feedback from her friends, and she’s asked to see him today, all dressed up in his pageboy uniform. I hope he won’t be disappointed…”
“He’ll be happy! He’ll be able to hang out with Bobby today as well! Oh, here he is…”
A very sleepy-looking Tim had pushed open the door of the breakfast room, and was standing there in his pyjamas blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“A piece of him, anyway,” she added, with a smile.
“He looks so cute in his new PJs,” grinned Doreen.
“Tim!” cried Cassandra. “Come in, darling. I’ve just been hearing all about yesterday. Well done! You were a great success. Come and sit down. What would you like to eat? Tell Margaret and she’ll make it for you.”
He was still tired, but hungry too.
“M-maybe a few pancakes,” he said, weakly.
“Maple syrup, Tim?” asked Margaret.
“And lemon juice…”
“Coming up!”
They let Tim sleep in that Sunday. It was the last day of November. The women were all in the breakfast room. Over coffee, Serena related the events of the previous day to the others, and showed them such pictures as she had manged to take.
“So you would say he was a success?” asked Cassandra.
“Mum, he was a fuc-king hit! I’m telling you, he was, like, the main attraction! I have a list of names and phone numbers of people who want to hire him. And Deborah was delighted, not only with his performance in church, but in the way he entertained her guests. “They won’t forget my wedding for a while,” she said to me. No, you should be proud of him. And he was really enjoying himself, too. You should have seen the way he was showing off to all the ladies.”
“Excellent… And did he manage to stay, shall we say, well-behaved?”
Serena laughed. “Yes, right up until we were about to leave. He was so focussed on pleasing all his admirers, I don’t think he had time even to consider pleasuring himself!”
“Good boy. This opens up a whole new role for him. Text me that list, won’t you? I should start making a calendar.”
“So what’s happening this week?” asked Priscilla.
“So Cynthia tells me the new stuff will be in Wednesday afternoon,” said Cassandra. “We can collect it Thursday first thing and do the photoshoot.”
“That’s for the new brochure, right?” asked Nicola.
“Yes… And anything else. We’ve got limited space in the brochure, but we can put multiple photos on the website for people to choose from.”
“Mum…about the photoshoot…”
“Yes, dear?”
“Have you got a venue in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking of the park… There’s a play area there, with a climbing frame. There shouldn’t be many people about on a Thursday…”
“I was wondering. Tim’s desperate to see Bobby. I was thinking maybe the stables would be a good place, and he and Bobby could get together after we were done. Actually there’s quite a nice play area there, if you wanted one, behind the new stable block.”
Cassandra thought for a moment. “That’s a brilliant idea, Serena. It would work perfectly. It’s near Fantastex. And there’d be a few girls about to add a bit of atmosphere. I’ll ask Violet today. I’m sure she’ll agree.”
“He’ll be so happy, mum. By the way, today’s his official day off, yeah?”
“Well, it was supposed to be. But Violet’s already had some feedback from her friends, and she’s asked to see him today, all dressed up in his pageboy uniform. I hope he won’t be disappointed…”
“He’ll be happy! He’ll be able to hang out with Bobby today as well! Oh, here he is…”
A very sleepy-looking Tim had pushed open the door of the breakfast room, and was standing there in his pyjamas blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“A piece of him, anyway,” she added, with a smile.
“He looks so cute in his new PJs,” grinned Doreen.
“Tim!” cried Cassandra. “Come in, darling. I’ve just been hearing all about yesterday. Well done! You were a great success. Come and sit down. What would you like to eat? Tell Margaret and she’ll make it for you.”
He was still tired, but hungry too.
“M-maybe a few pancakes,” he said, weakly.
“Maple syrup, Tim?” asked Margaret.
“And lemon juice…”
“Coming up!”
6
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on April 16, 2026, 07:14:04 PM »
Chapter336.
He wasn’t alone for long. At once he was surrounded by a group of women who had been waiting their opportunity to pounce. He tried to make an excuse, by they were having none of it. Emboldened by wine, they grabbed him, eulogising over his uniform, cuddling and virtually groping him, and demanding he pose for them and with them. They only released him when their husbands and boyfriends came and marched them away.
“Don, we haven’t finished with our little toy-boy… Please…”
“Oh yes you have, madam. He’s a little too young for you and your mates.”
“But look at him… He so cute…”
“Sorry, Tim…”
“That’s all right, sir…”
The celebrations went on long after the departure of the bride and groom. It had been a long day though, and guests with young children started leaving about eight, and by ten-thirty most of the others were getting ready to leave, while the dedicated party animals were heading to the main hotel bar. At last he could chill. He stood on the dance floor watching the last few couples dancing. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. A girl in a pretty pink dress, holding a pink helium balloon on a string. She held out her hand.
“Hi. I’m Esther. We have to leave now, but I didn’t want to go before I’d said hello.”
“The balloon…”
“It was meant for the happy couples car, but they drove off before I could tie it on. So I thought of you. It would go well with your pretty hot pants.”
“They’re not…”
“Go on, take it. See? You look even more like a sweet little boy. Stand there so I can take a snap. There. Now, let’s have a selfie.” She stood beside him. “Smile, Tim. Cool.”
She was so open and charming, Tim almost fell for her on the spot.
“Who…?”
“I told you. Esther. Esther Shilling. I have to go. But don’t worry – we’ll meet again soon. I got your number from one of my friends, and I’ve been talking to Miss Egerton. I already know quite a bit about you, little boy.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled teasingly.
“You can’t call me that. I’m older than you…”
“Only in body… Bye Tim.” She gave him a mischievous look, flicked her hair, turned and skipped away. He looked after her. He almost called to her. Instead he frowned.
“That’s the second time tonight I’ve been abandoned,” he said to himself. “Each time before I’d said what I wanted to say, each time by a pretty girl… Damn…”
Tim had been sipping champagne for most of the evening, and that, combined with the warmth of the room, the constant attention, and the hugs, kisses and cuddles of departing friends and acquaintances, were having their effect. He could feel growing pressure in his shorts. He smoothed the hot latex with one hand – the one not holding the balloon. There was a little bulge just to the right of the centre seam, swelling and firming slowly but inexorably.
“Time to go…”
“There you are!” It was Serena.
“Miss, can we go?”
“I was just about to say… Get rid of that balloon, and…”
“No. I want to keep it.”
She laughed. “Okay. You do look sweet holding it. Let me get a quick piccy…”
They went to the car.
“You look tired. I’ll put the seat down. You can sleep if you want. Where did you get the balloon? Was it that girl in pink? It was, wasn’t it? Very pretty. Who is she?”
“Dunno. Her name’s Esther…”
“Okay.”
She leant across him, pulled his seatbelt over, and clipped it home. She started the engine. “We can take our time. Just rest, Tim. You’ve had a busy day.”
She started the Porsche and pulled out of the hotel car park.
“Miss…?”
“Yes, Tim?”
“When will I get to see Bobby? I really miss him…”
“Oh, I’m not sure… Soon, though.”
“Couldn’t we call in at the stables one day?”
“Well, it’s going to be a busy week. Fittings, photo-shoot, getting ready for Mrs Brookshaw…”
“Where’s the photo-shoot gonna be?”
“Not sure… Well, I suppose it might be possible…”
“Yeah?”
“To have it at the stables. If the weather’s okay.”
“Could we? That would be great. I could see Bobby.”
“I’ll ask mum… Don’t see why not. It would be a great location…”
“Do… Please…”
He leaned back, eyes half-closed. He was still holding the balloon string. She noticed his other hand crept onto the front of his shorts. After a while he began slowly, surreptitiously kneading the bulge. Occasionally there was a faint squelching sound, and he would stop for a few seconds, then, believing Serena had not noticed, he would continue. She smiled. “Naughty boy,” she thought. “But he must be feeling so horny after spending a day in his little rubber pants being pawed by all those women… Go on, darling, enjoy… Don’t hold back…”
And he didn’t. They were less than five minutes from ESDS when he suddenly tensed, moaned, bit his lip, and shuddered to an ill-concealed climax. Serena grinned, muttering under her breath, “I think you needed that, darling”
He wasn’t alone for long. At once he was surrounded by a group of women who had been waiting their opportunity to pounce. He tried to make an excuse, by they were having none of it. Emboldened by wine, they grabbed him, eulogising over his uniform, cuddling and virtually groping him, and demanding he pose for them and with them. They only released him when their husbands and boyfriends came and marched them away.
“Don, we haven’t finished with our little toy-boy… Please…”
“Oh yes you have, madam. He’s a little too young for you and your mates.”
“But look at him… He so cute…”
“Sorry, Tim…”
“That’s all right, sir…”
The celebrations went on long after the departure of the bride and groom. It had been a long day though, and guests with young children started leaving about eight, and by ten-thirty most of the others were getting ready to leave, while the dedicated party animals were heading to the main hotel bar. At last he could chill. He stood on the dance floor watching the last few couples dancing. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. A girl in a pretty pink dress, holding a pink helium balloon on a string. She held out her hand.
“Hi. I’m Esther. We have to leave now, but I didn’t want to go before I’d said hello.”
“The balloon…”
“It was meant for the happy couples car, but they drove off before I could tie it on. So I thought of you. It would go well with your pretty hot pants.”
“They’re not…”
“Go on, take it. See? You look even more like a sweet little boy. Stand there so I can take a snap. There. Now, let’s have a selfie.” She stood beside him. “Smile, Tim. Cool.”
She was so open and charming, Tim almost fell for her on the spot.
“Who…?”
“I told you. Esther. Esther Shilling. I have to go. But don’t worry – we’ll meet again soon. I got your number from one of my friends, and I’ve been talking to Miss Egerton. I already know quite a bit about you, little boy.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled teasingly.
“You can’t call me that. I’m older than you…”
“Only in body… Bye Tim.” She gave him a mischievous look, flicked her hair, turned and skipped away. He looked after her. He almost called to her. Instead he frowned.
“That’s the second time tonight I’ve been abandoned,” he said to himself. “Each time before I’d said what I wanted to say, each time by a pretty girl… Damn…”
Tim had been sipping champagne for most of the evening, and that, combined with the warmth of the room, the constant attention, and the hugs, kisses and cuddles of departing friends and acquaintances, were having their effect. He could feel growing pressure in his shorts. He smoothed the hot latex with one hand – the one not holding the balloon. There was a little bulge just to the right of the centre seam, swelling and firming slowly but inexorably.
“Time to go…”
“There you are!” It was Serena.
“Miss, can we go?”
“I was just about to say… Get rid of that balloon, and…”
“No. I want to keep it.”
She laughed. “Okay. You do look sweet holding it. Let me get a quick piccy…”
They went to the car.
“You look tired. I’ll put the seat down. You can sleep if you want. Where did you get the balloon? Was it that girl in pink? It was, wasn’t it? Very pretty. Who is she?”
“Dunno. Her name’s Esther…”
“Okay.”
She leant across him, pulled his seatbelt over, and clipped it home. She started the engine. “We can take our time. Just rest, Tim. You’ve had a busy day.”
She started the Porsche and pulled out of the hotel car park.
“Miss…?”
“Yes, Tim?”
“When will I get to see Bobby? I really miss him…”
“Oh, I’m not sure… Soon, though.”
“Couldn’t we call in at the stables one day?”
“Well, it’s going to be a busy week. Fittings, photo-shoot, getting ready for Mrs Brookshaw…”
“Where’s the photo-shoot gonna be?”
“Not sure… Well, I suppose it might be possible…”
“Yeah?”
“To have it at the stables. If the weather’s okay.”
“Could we? That would be great. I could see Bobby.”
“I’ll ask mum… Don’t see why not. It would be a great location…”
“Do… Please…”
He leaned back, eyes half-closed. He was still holding the balloon string. She noticed his other hand crept onto the front of his shorts. After a while he began slowly, surreptitiously kneading the bulge. Occasionally there was a faint squelching sound, and he would stop for a few seconds, then, believing Serena had not noticed, he would continue. She smiled. “Naughty boy,” she thought. “But he must be feeling so horny after spending a day in his little rubber pants being pawed by all those women… Go on, darling, enjoy… Don’t hold back…”
And he didn’t. They were less than five minutes from ESDS when he suddenly tensed, moaned, bit his lip, and shuddered to an ill-concealed climax. Serena grinned, muttering under her breath, “I think you needed that, darling”
7
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on April 16, 2026, 06:45:25 PM »
Chapter 335.
In an instant he found himself surrounded by a little group of teenage girls, all asking questions at once and snapping away with their phones.
“Your outfit’s so cool…”
“Can I have a selfie?”
“My mum thinks your great! She said to ask you for your phone number…”
“Did she? Does she want to make a booking?”
“Er… Yes…”
“Because that would have to go through my aunt or ESDS.”
“Oh… ESDS? I don’t know…”
“They’re like, er, my manager…”
“Oh…I see… But we I…I mean my mum…wants to call you about, er, something else…yes, about your uniform and stuff…”
“Oh. Okay then. Ready?”
She seemed very excited to have got his phone number…for her mum… In fact they all seemed happy about it!
Another got him to sign the dinner menu. Then they took it in turns to cuddle up to him while their friends took snaps. One of them gave him a little heart ring which would just about fit on his little finger. Another gave him one of her scrunchies. It was great - even the kids appreciated his outfit. He felt quite overwhelmed, and so happy. Not that he had ever felt really nervous, but in the event the whole day had been an even greater success than he could have hoped.
He needed a break. Coffees were being served now, and a few couples had made their way onto the dancefloor. He was hanging out on the edge when he was approached by a pretty blonde girl in a green dress.
“Hello.”
“Oh…hi…”
“Your Tim, aren’t you? I know you are, because I’ve been waiting to talk to you. You have a lot of admirers here.”
“Well, not really…”
“Oh, yes you do. I’m one too. And I’m going to be seeing a lot more of you in future, I believe.”
“You are…? Who…?”
“I’m Robyn. I’m Connie Brookshaw’s niece.”
“Connie…? Oh! Mrs Brookshaw! Yes, I see… I’ve haven’t actually met your aunt, but…”
“I know. You will soon, though, won’t you? Don’t worry, I’m not here to suss you out. She’s already seen a picture. She picked you out at once. I can see why.”
Tim blushed. Despite his swaggering, he felt flattered. Robyn was really pretty.
“I’ve been talking to Serena. She was saying she’s going to pick up some new pageboy outfits from that shop…”
“Fantastex?”
“Yes, Fantastex. Also a couple of maid outfits for my aunt. She has particular tastes, you know. I’ve asked if I can come to the fittings, or at least the photo-shoot for the ESDS brochure.”
“Oh…”
“Wherever it is. I gather that hasn’t been decided yet.”
“I see…”
“So I’ll look forward to seeing you there. Take care, Tim dear…”
“Oh, yes…and you…”
She gave him the sweetest smile, turned, and rather abruptly walked away.
In an instant he found himself surrounded by a little group of teenage girls, all asking questions at once and snapping away with their phones.
“Your outfit’s so cool…”
“Can I have a selfie?”
“My mum thinks your great! She said to ask you for your phone number…”
“Did she? Does she want to make a booking?”
“Er… Yes…”
“Because that would have to go through my aunt or ESDS.”
“Oh… ESDS? I don’t know…”
“They’re like, er, my manager…”
“Oh…I see… But we I…I mean my mum…wants to call you about, er, something else…yes, about your uniform and stuff…”
“Oh. Okay then. Ready?”
She seemed very excited to have got his phone number…for her mum… In fact they all seemed happy about it!
Another got him to sign the dinner menu. Then they took it in turns to cuddle up to him while their friends took snaps. One of them gave him a little heart ring which would just about fit on his little finger. Another gave him one of her scrunchies. It was great - even the kids appreciated his outfit. He felt quite overwhelmed, and so happy. Not that he had ever felt really nervous, but in the event the whole day had been an even greater success than he could have hoped.
He needed a break. Coffees were being served now, and a few couples had made their way onto the dancefloor. He was hanging out on the edge when he was approached by a pretty blonde girl in a green dress.
“Hello.”
“Oh…hi…”
“Your Tim, aren’t you? I know you are, because I’ve been waiting to talk to you. You have a lot of admirers here.”
“Well, not really…”
“Oh, yes you do. I’m one too. And I’m going to be seeing a lot more of you in future, I believe.”
“You are…? Who…?”
“I’m Robyn. I’m Connie Brookshaw’s niece.”
“Connie…? Oh! Mrs Brookshaw! Yes, I see… I’ve haven’t actually met your aunt, but…”
“I know. You will soon, though, won’t you? Don’t worry, I’m not here to suss you out. She’s already seen a picture. She picked you out at once. I can see why.”
Tim blushed. Despite his swaggering, he felt flattered. Robyn was really pretty.
“I’ve been talking to Serena. She was saying she’s going to pick up some new pageboy outfits from that shop…”
“Fantastex?”
“Yes, Fantastex. Also a couple of maid outfits for my aunt. She has particular tastes, you know. I’ve asked if I can come to the fittings, or at least the photo-shoot for the ESDS brochure.”
“Oh…”
“Wherever it is. I gather that hasn’t been decided yet.”
“I see…”
“So I’ll look forward to seeing you there. Take care, Tim dear…”
“Oh, yes…and you…”
She gave him the sweetest smile, turned, and rather abruptly walked away.
8
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on April 16, 2026, 06:29:20 PM »
Chapter 334.
There was quite a hubbub now – chattering, voices raised in delight, laughing. Tim was in his element. Everyone was so nice to him – friendly but respectful. He posed by himself, relaxed, or hands on hips, or pointing at his shorts – there were quite a lot of requests for that – and of course everyone wanted selfies. He seemed very quickly to have become the star of the proceedings. He hoped he wasn’t stealing Deborah’s thunder. He glanced over at her sitting at the top table. She smiled and gave him a little wave. No, she was clearly happy that he was such a hit. She said something to Sebastian, at which he laughed and nodded, and gave him a thumbs-up. Wow, this was great! It was like being a rock star, or some sort of celebrity with a huge fan-club!
He was buttonholed by three ladies. One of them, an elderly lady in a blue dress, congratulated him on his outfit. She pointed at his shorts. “I love the little frills – such a nice touch.” One of the others asked him if he was for hire. “My niece’s wedding is coming up in February. If there’s any chance…”
“Oh, there may be. You’d have to ask my aunt… She does bookings and stuff… Lady in blue…”
He pointed her out. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked, nor would it be the last.
“Would you be able to wear, er, the same outfit, do you think?”
“Oh, possibly. Though my outfitters is experimenting with some new colours, I believe.”
“How interesting. Maybe we could even commission colours to match my daughter’s dress…”
“Maybe…”
“…or even discuss styles. The wedding is costing us a fortune… Really money would be no object if we could have something, you know, a little creative…”
“I’m sure anything’s possible if I’m free…”
“Super! I’ll go an talk to your aunt…”
“Serena. Serena Egerton.”
“Yes, we’ve got all the photos we wanted, girls? Yes, let’s go. Looks like some of the youngsters want to have a piece of you too!”
There was quite a hubbub now – chattering, voices raised in delight, laughing. Tim was in his element. Everyone was so nice to him – friendly but respectful. He posed by himself, relaxed, or hands on hips, or pointing at his shorts – there were quite a lot of requests for that – and of course everyone wanted selfies. He seemed very quickly to have become the star of the proceedings. He hoped he wasn’t stealing Deborah’s thunder. He glanced over at her sitting at the top table. She smiled and gave him a little wave. No, she was clearly happy that he was such a hit. She said something to Sebastian, at which he laughed and nodded, and gave him a thumbs-up. Wow, this was great! It was like being a rock star, or some sort of celebrity with a huge fan-club!
He was buttonholed by three ladies. One of them, an elderly lady in a blue dress, congratulated him on his outfit. She pointed at his shorts. “I love the little frills – such a nice touch.” One of the others asked him if he was for hire. “My niece’s wedding is coming up in February. If there’s any chance…”
“Oh, there may be. You’d have to ask my aunt… She does bookings and stuff… Lady in blue…”
He pointed her out. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked, nor would it be the last.
“Would you be able to wear, er, the same outfit, do you think?”
“Oh, possibly. Though my outfitters is experimenting with some new colours, I believe.”
“How interesting. Maybe we could even commission colours to match my daughter’s dress…”
“Maybe…”
“…or even discuss styles. The wedding is costing us a fortune… Really money would be no object if we could have something, you know, a little creative…”
“I’m sure anything’s possible if I’m free…”
“Super! I’ll go an talk to your aunt…”
“Serena. Serena Egerton.”
“Yes, we’ve got all the photos we wanted, girls? Yes, let’s go. Looks like some of the youngsters want to have a piece of you too!”
9
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on April 16, 2026, 06:20:59 PM »
Chapter 333.
There was a female attendant by the door, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and smart black skirt. She was well-disciplined, and the only reaction she showed was a slight widening of the eyes, which Tim registered and took for surprised admiration.
“Sir…”
She opened the door with a slight inclination of the head, which he took for respect, but which in fact served to hide an irrepressible grin. He was feeling pleased with himself. In full uniform, gloves and all, even those who had already seen him would pay attention. He strode boldly into the crowded room, head erect, wearing a faintly superior smile.
This side of the ballroom was occupied mainly by guests who hadn’t been invited to the ceremony. He passed casually between the tables, looking around as if searching for someone. The buzz of conversation faded as he passed, replaced by a stunned silence, broken only by gasps, and a little cry of surprise from a woman somewhere behind him. Ahead of him two women on adjacent tables had been chatting. But when they saw him they stopped and stared, open-mouthed. He gave one a friendly, condescending smile, and was about to pass on when she spoke.
“Are you…the pageboy?”
He stopped. “I am, yes.”
“Oh…gosh…” She fought back the urge to burst out laughing. “We…we’ve heard so much…about you… Now I see why.” She blinked, and stared at his shorts. “What an…incredible – I mean, absolutely amazing, outfit… We’ve never actually seen a real pageboy in a real pageboy outfit. Have we, Eileen?” she added, addressing the woman across the aisle.
“No, never… What’s your name, young man?”
“I’m Tim.”
“You look…well, so smart. Deborah told us to check you out… I mean, to make sure we said hello… Can I ask… Your shorts… Is that vinyl?”
They were clearly impressed. And so were their neighbours, to judge by the clicking of camera shutters from the nearby tables.
“Latex, actually,” he said, proudly. She looked closer, so he added, “in fact, it’s the highest grade of natural latex you can get. And the colours are very special.”
“They are…?”
“These colours will be trending next year. The fashion house assures me next year will be dominated by purple and pink in combination.”
“Goodness! Doris, make a note of that. Thank you, Tim. We’ll beat that in mind when we’re shopping for our new wardrobes.”
“No problem.”
“Could we…? I mean, would you mind if we took a couple of snaps? Perhaps a selfie?”
“Please, ladies. It would be my pleasure.”
He could never have spoken like that before ESDS…or before Shirley. He remembered how he had flunked Nicola’s first elocution class. But now… Not only was his outfit super cool, but he sounded classy and educated. He no longer stammered, or felt lost for words. He felt confident. Everyone was so pleasant and friendly, especially the more knowledgeable, mature women. Soon others were gathering round, complimenting him on his uniform.
“Tim, darling… “ one asked politely, extending a hand towards his shorts, “would you mind if I… They’re so well-tailored…”
“Not at all…”
She ran her fingertips down his flank.
“Laura. Feel that seam. Smooth as silk! And the frills! How on earth did they make them so perfectly regular? Who did you say it was?”
“Fantastex. You may have heard of them…”
“Yes, really amazing workmanship,” added her friend, Laura, teasingly tracing the front seam downwards from his belt buckle with a bejewelled fingernail, stopping short and bestowing the sweetest smile on him when she felt him tense with alarm. Soon ladies were queueing up to take photos, to chat and compliment him. Some were terribly discreet, other less so.
“Now I know what all the fuss was about!” commented one lady in a flowery dress, bending forward to admire his shorts. “What super little hot pants!”
Tim jibbed slightly at her calling them that.
“Well, they’re actually…” (“Actually” was becoming one of his favourite “classy” words.) “…they’re actually proper pageboy shorts. You can ask my outfitters, if you don’t believe me. They’re not far from here…”
“Oh, really?… Yes, I must go ask your outfitters, mustn’t I?”
The slight sarcasm was largely wasted on Tim’s swollen ego.
“Well Cynthia assures me that, to the best of her knowledge, this style of shorts is not available anywhere else in the country – and in latex, probably anywhere else in the world!”
He could have added “so there!” – but he just managed to stop himself.
Flowery dress decided to play along.
“Really? I believe you. I’ve never seen anything quite like them. Have you, Tracey?”
“I don’t think I have. Tim, darling… Please tell us. Where is Fantastex based? I would love to get something as unique as that for my daughter. I assume they do ladies’ clothing as well?”
This was all very gratifying. “Of course. I’d be delighted. Actually my aunt – see that lady over in the corner in the blue dress – she’s looking at us now – she can give you their business card.”
“Oh, perfect. Thank you.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me… I think these ladies are next…”
There was a female attendant by the door, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and smart black skirt. She was well-disciplined, and the only reaction she showed was a slight widening of the eyes, which Tim registered and took for surprised admiration.
“Sir…”
She opened the door with a slight inclination of the head, which he took for respect, but which in fact served to hide an irrepressible grin. He was feeling pleased with himself. In full uniform, gloves and all, even those who had already seen him would pay attention. He strode boldly into the crowded room, head erect, wearing a faintly superior smile.
This side of the ballroom was occupied mainly by guests who hadn’t been invited to the ceremony. He passed casually between the tables, looking around as if searching for someone. The buzz of conversation faded as he passed, replaced by a stunned silence, broken only by gasps, and a little cry of surprise from a woman somewhere behind him. Ahead of him two women on adjacent tables had been chatting. But when they saw him they stopped and stared, open-mouthed. He gave one a friendly, condescending smile, and was about to pass on when she spoke.
“Are you…the pageboy?”
He stopped. “I am, yes.”
“Oh…gosh…” She fought back the urge to burst out laughing. “We…we’ve heard so much…about you… Now I see why.” She blinked, and stared at his shorts. “What an…incredible – I mean, absolutely amazing, outfit… We’ve never actually seen a real pageboy in a real pageboy outfit. Have we, Eileen?” she added, addressing the woman across the aisle.
“No, never… What’s your name, young man?”
“I’m Tim.”
“You look…well, so smart. Deborah told us to check you out… I mean, to make sure we said hello… Can I ask… Your shorts… Is that vinyl?”
They were clearly impressed. And so were their neighbours, to judge by the clicking of camera shutters from the nearby tables.
“Latex, actually,” he said, proudly. She looked closer, so he added, “in fact, it’s the highest grade of natural latex you can get. And the colours are very special.”
“They are…?”
“These colours will be trending next year. The fashion house assures me next year will be dominated by purple and pink in combination.”
“Goodness! Doris, make a note of that. Thank you, Tim. We’ll beat that in mind when we’re shopping for our new wardrobes.”
“No problem.”
“Could we…? I mean, would you mind if we took a couple of snaps? Perhaps a selfie?”
“Please, ladies. It would be my pleasure.”
He could never have spoken like that before ESDS…or before Shirley. He remembered how he had flunked Nicola’s first elocution class. But now… Not only was his outfit super cool, but he sounded classy and educated. He no longer stammered, or felt lost for words. He felt confident. Everyone was so pleasant and friendly, especially the more knowledgeable, mature women. Soon others were gathering round, complimenting him on his uniform.
“Tim, darling… “ one asked politely, extending a hand towards his shorts, “would you mind if I… They’re so well-tailored…”
“Not at all…”
She ran her fingertips down his flank.
“Laura. Feel that seam. Smooth as silk! And the frills! How on earth did they make them so perfectly regular? Who did you say it was?”
“Fantastex. You may have heard of them…”
“Yes, really amazing workmanship,” added her friend, Laura, teasingly tracing the front seam downwards from his belt buckle with a bejewelled fingernail, stopping short and bestowing the sweetest smile on him when she felt him tense with alarm. Soon ladies were queueing up to take photos, to chat and compliment him. Some were terribly discreet, other less so.
“Now I know what all the fuss was about!” commented one lady in a flowery dress, bending forward to admire his shorts. “What super little hot pants!”
Tim jibbed slightly at her calling them that.
“Well, they’re actually…” (“Actually” was becoming one of his favourite “classy” words.) “…they’re actually proper pageboy shorts. You can ask my outfitters, if you don’t believe me. They’re not far from here…”
“Oh, really?… Yes, I must go ask your outfitters, mustn’t I?”
The slight sarcasm was largely wasted on Tim’s swollen ego.
“Well Cynthia assures me that, to the best of her knowledge, this style of shorts is not available anywhere else in the country – and in latex, probably anywhere else in the world!”
He could have added “so there!” – but he just managed to stop himself.
Flowery dress decided to play along.
“Really? I believe you. I’ve never seen anything quite like them. Have you, Tracey?”
“I don’t think I have. Tim, darling… Please tell us. Where is Fantastex based? I would love to get something as unique as that for my daughter. I assume they do ladies’ clothing as well?”
This was all very gratifying. “Of course. I’d be delighted. Actually my aunt – see that lady over in the corner in the blue dress – she’s looking at us now – she can give you their business card.”
“Oh, perfect. Thank you.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me… I think these ladies are next…”
10
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Philip’s Treatment Homage to Vicky’s, Lip Service by Wincy Willis/Khrissi Martin
« Last post by BabyJay on April 16, 2026, 10:15:59 AM »
Oh dear! I think Phillip is in more trouble than he realises. Trapped in bed after having a big drink can only end in one result, a very wet bed and pyjamas. I wonder what Mother will do now, nappies and plastic knickers?. Look forward to next episode. (:
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