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Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on Today at 05:50:46 PM »
All Arranged for Aunty
Sabrina and Skye continued their preparations with tireless, delighted attention, arranging Edward's outfit as though he were a treasured doll. Their voices had a warm, soothing murmur, but there was an unsettling undertone to their gentleness.
Sabrina knelt beside him and teased his petticoat into an even fuller bell, coaxing the crisp tulle outward with patient little tugs. Then, she lifted each tier of his skirt and tugged the organza until the ruffles rose in soft, even waves. “There we are, darling,” she crooned. “We have to make sure your ruffles are all soft and fluffy.” Each tender word made Edward’s face burn hotter.
“That’s right, sweetheart—stand very still now,” Skye said, as gently as if she were calming a frightened child. “Just think how pleased your Aunty will be when she sees you!”
Edward’s throat tightened. The mention of his Aunt Patricia sent a fresh shiver of anxiety down his spine. Even though she was nowhere in sight, her authority seemed to fill the room as if she were standing right there. His petticoat rustled around his trapped legs again, bright and cheerful, while shame crawled hotly across his neck.
The girls continued to work on him. Skye smoothed his skirt again and gave his petticoat one last careful fluff. She beamed at him, “there now, little miss—no fidgeting!” Her tone was soft enough for a lullaby. Cringing, Edward stood obediently rigid inside the rustling dress, cheeks blazing.
With Edward’s skirt and petticoat adjusted to their satisfaction, Sabrina moved behind Edward, and he tensed at once, following her reflection with wide, apprehensive eyes. She gently lifted his chin up, and he shivered nervously at her touch. Edward saw her raise an elaborate pink hair bow with long trailing ribbons unfurling on either side. “Now, be very still, sweetheart,” she chided softly. “I can’t have you wiggling while I arrange this darling bow.” In the mirror, he watched powerlessly. With fussy concentration, she nestled it among his curls and began weaving the glossy ribbons through one ringlet after another until they streamed down the sides of his hair. Edward felt each tiny tug at his scalp as she worked. He tried to remain still as he was told and trust Sabrina’s practiced hands, but the longer she fussed, the more uneasy he became. The spreading weight of the enormous bow made him wonder how he could possibly have so many ringlets. His breath shortened, and his eyes darted from Sabrina’s reflection to Skye’s.
Skye noticed the worry on his face and answered it with her same patient smile, “Oh, sweetheart, why are you worried so? You just be nice and still and let Sabrina finish.” She giggled brightly as she straightened a ribbon crossing his waist and retied its bow into two immaculate loops. “There can never be too many ribbons on an outfit this pretty!” she gushed.
Finally, it seemed Sabrina was done with his hair bow. “Now, just look at all your pretty curls and frills,” Sabrina cooed happily. “They’re exactly right for you, sweetheart.”
Edward stared at himself in the mirror again, and his stomach plunged. Pink bows crowded his curls and cinched his waist, while frothing tiers of lace and ruffles swelled outward until his narrow reflection was almost lost beneath them. A helpless panic rose in his throat. He searched the glass for something familiar, but he was practically smothered in ribbons, frills and satin.
As he watched defeatedly, Skye steadied his chin and began to carefully coat his lips with strawberry-flavored pink lipstick. “Chin up, little miss,” she said with exaggerated patience, “No squirming now!” The color went on in slow, deliberate strokes. It was slick and waxy, and the artificial sweetness filled his nose. Then, she drew back to admire her work and smiled. “There, that’s my good girl. See how darling that looks on you?”
Edward’s cheeks flamed at the praise, the heat spreading down his neck. He thought, “Please don’t call me that. Don’t make me look,” but he couldn’t make the words come out. Instead, they were trapped behind his freshly painted mouth. His pulse fluttered, and the enormous bow tugged at his scalp whenever he trembled. The corset allowed him only a shallow breath, and the satin bodice held close around his ribs. His petticoat whispered ceaselessly around his legs. He wanted to protest and wipe the lipstick away, but his arms were still securely pinned under his dress. All he could manage was a tiny, miserable nod as he lowered his eyes.
Just then, Aunt Patricia’s voice cut through the fitting room. Edward went rigid, and his breath caught for an instant. Everything seemed to settle into a sharper focus. As always, her voice was cultivated and composed. “Sabrina? Skye?” she called, “My goodness I should think we’ve given him long enough. Of course, take another moment if need be to make sure he is properly arranged, but I’m eager to see what you’ve done with him.”
Both girls straightened at once. Skye’s playful smile settled into professional attentiveness, and she smoothed the front of her suit instinctively. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered promptly, already stepping into place.
“Of course, ma’am,” Sabrina called back. She exchanged a quick glance with Skye and adjusted Edward’s hair bow one last time with sudden attention.
Sabrina and Skye moved to either side of him like attendants about to present a treasure.
Aunt Patricia spoke again, still gracious and unhurried. “If you’re satisfied that he’s ready, then bring the darling boy out, please.”
“Right away, ma’am,” the girls replied in unison.
Edward felt as if his dress moved before he did. Its countless ruffles leaned toward Aunt Patricia’s voice obediently, and Edward felt himself pulled along with them. He tried to plant his feet, but the floor flowed softly beneath his ballet slippers and carried him forward. Then he felt as though he were going to tip over, so he started taking short, quick, mincing steps to keep up with his dress. The hidden hobble skirt made his skittish little steps almost comical. Meanwhile, the girls drifted effortlessly beside him as the melting walls streamed past in ribbons.
Beyond the dissolving walls, Edward’s pulse raced as he finally saw his Aunt Patricia, standing regally. He was dismayed to see many other shapes gathered around her—a small crowd of clerks and customers arranged in a loose crescent. Then he saw the two women flanking her. Miss Vale stood on one side and Mrs. Bell on the other! Both wore bright, expectant smiles. Edward’s stomach dropped. Heat rushed into his face as he realized they had assembled for his embarrassment, eager to admire the finished result. He wanted to shrink back to the fitting room, but the enormous dress propelled him forward.
“Smile for your Aunty, darling,” Sabrina whispered urgently without looking at him.
Skye drew close on the other side. “Look pretty and happy,” she breathed. “And be on your very best behavior. You mustn’t disappoint her.”
Edward’s nervousness broke into panic. He could not lift his arms, could not turn, could not even tell whether he was moving or the store was being pulled around him. He strained against the armless bodice until his breath became shallow, and every breath drew more of Sabrina and Skye’s perfume into him. He felt their gentle, feminine warmth on either side of him. He was acutely aware of a tingling friction under his petticoat as his tights and panties rubbed closely against one another with each dainty step. Little electric sparks darted playfully over his skin, and he began to feel lightheaded. Edward held his breath as he was presented for his aunt’s approval.
Aunt Patricia said with a satisfied look, “There we are. At last.” She spoke cheerily, “Don’t you look precious!” Then she prodded her nephew directly. “I chose that exquisite dress especially for you, my darling,” she said brightly, “tell me, dear, don’t you just adore it?”
He heard a loud ringing in his ears, and he felt sealed behind a flawless wall of pink satin. He knew what he was supposed to say. After an awkward, silent moment, he managed to stammer in a defeated whisper, “Yes… Aunty!”
As he spoke, the pressure in his tights increased rapidly in little fits and starts. His face burned crimson, and he felt a sudden pulsing under all the frilly layers of his elaborate pink dress. He winced, and an uncontrolled shudder raced through his body. The lacy frills and ruffled flounces of his dress danced excitedly as if they knew what was happening.
Then the dam broke. “Oh!” he gasped softly. All at once, he realized it was already too late…
His pulse still pounding, Edward woke up with a start. The sun was already up.
Sabrina and Skye continued their preparations with tireless, delighted attention, arranging Edward's outfit as though he were a treasured doll. Their voices had a warm, soothing murmur, but there was an unsettling undertone to their gentleness.
Sabrina knelt beside him and teased his petticoat into an even fuller bell, coaxing the crisp tulle outward with patient little tugs. Then, she lifted each tier of his skirt and tugged the organza until the ruffles rose in soft, even waves. “There we are, darling,” she crooned. “We have to make sure your ruffles are all soft and fluffy.” Each tender word made Edward’s face burn hotter.
“That’s right, sweetheart—stand very still now,” Skye said, as gently as if she were calming a frightened child. “Just think how pleased your Aunty will be when she sees you!”
Edward’s throat tightened. The mention of his Aunt Patricia sent a fresh shiver of anxiety down his spine. Even though she was nowhere in sight, her authority seemed to fill the room as if she were standing right there. His petticoat rustled around his trapped legs again, bright and cheerful, while shame crawled hotly across his neck.
The girls continued to work on him. Skye smoothed his skirt again and gave his petticoat one last careful fluff. She beamed at him, “there now, little miss—no fidgeting!” Her tone was soft enough for a lullaby. Cringing, Edward stood obediently rigid inside the rustling dress, cheeks blazing.
With Edward’s skirt and petticoat adjusted to their satisfaction, Sabrina moved behind Edward, and he tensed at once, following her reflection with wide, apprehensive eyes. She gently lifted his chin up, and he shivered nervously at her touch. Edward saw her raise an elaborate pink hair bow with long trailing ribbons unfurling on either side. “Now, be very still, sweetheart,” she chided softly. “I can’t have you wiggling while I arrange this darling bow.” In the mirror, he watched powerlessly. With fussy concentration, she nestled it among his curls and began weaving the glossy ribbons through one ringlet after another until they streamed down the sides of his hair. Edward felt each tiny tug at his scalp as she worked. He tried to remain still as he was told and trust Sabrina’s practiced hands, but the longer she fussed, the more uneasy he became. The spreading weight of the enormous bow made him wonder how he could possibly have so many ringlets. His breath shortened, and his eyes darted from Sabrina’s reflection to Skye’s.
Skye noticed the worry on his face and answered it with her same patient smile, “Oh, sweetheart, why are you worried so? You just be nice and still and let Sabrina finish.” She giggled brightly as she straightened a ribbon crossing his waist and retied its bow into two immaculate loops. “There can never be too many ribbons on an outfit this pretty!” she gushed.
Finally, it seemed Sabrina was done with his hair bow. “Now, just look at all your pretty curls and frills,” Sabrina cooed happily. “They’re exactly right for you, sweetheart.”
Edward stared at himself in the mirror again, and his stomach plunged. Pink bows crowded his curls and cinched his waist, while frothing tiers of lace and ruffles swelled outward until his narrow reflection was almost lost beneath them. A helpless panic rose in his throat. He searched the glass for something familiar, but he was practically smothered in ribbons, frills and satin.
As he watched defeatedly, Skye steadied his chin and began to carefully coat his lips with strawberry-flavored pink lipstick. “Chin up, little miss,” she said with exaggerated patience, “No squirming now!” The color went on in slow, deliberate strokes. It was slick and waxy, and the artificial sweetness filled his nose. Then, she drew back to admire her work and smiled. “There, that’s my good girl. See how darling that looks on you?”
Edward’s cheeks flamed at the praise, the heat spreading down his neck. He thought, “Please don’t call me that. Don’t make me look,” but he couldn’t make the words come out. Instead, they were trapped behind his freshly painted mouth. His pulse fluttered, and the enormous bow tugged at his scalp whenever he trembled. The corset allowed him only a shallow breath, and the satin bodice held close around his ribs. His petticoat whispered ceaselessly around his legs. He wanted to protest and wipe the lipstick away, but his arms were still securely pinned under his dress. All he could manage was a tiny, miserable nod as he lowered his eyes.
Just then, Aunt Patricia’s voice cut through the fitting room. Edward went rigid, and his breath caught for an instant. Everything seemed to settle into a sharper focus. As always, her voice was cultivated and composed. “Sabrina? Skye?” she called, “My goodness I should think we’ve given him long enough. Of course, take another moment if need be to make sure he is properly arranged, but I’m eager to see what you’ve done with him.”
Both girls straightened at once. Skye’s playful smile settled into professional attentiveness, and she smoothed the front of her suit instinctively. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered promptly, already stepping into place.
“Of course, ma’am,” Sabrina called back. She exchanged a quick glance with Skye and adjusted Edward’s hair bow one last time with sudden attention.
Sabrina and Skye moved to either side of him like attendants about to present a treasure.
Aunt Patricia spoke again, still gracious and unhurried. “If you’re satisfied that he’s ready, then bring the darling boy out, please.”
“Right away, ma’am,” the girls replied in unison.
Edward felt as if his dress moved before he did. Its countless ruffles leaned toward Aunt Patricia’s voice obediently, and Edward felt himself pulled along with them. He tried to plant his feet, but the floor flowed softly beneath his ballet slippers and carried him forward. Then he felt as though he were going to tip over, so he started taking short, quick, mincing steps to keep up with his dress. The hidden hobble skirt made his skittish little steps almost comical. Meanwhile, the girls drifted effortlessly beside him as the melting walls streamed past in ribbons.
Beyond the dissolving walls, Edward’s pulse raced as he finally saw his Aunt Patricia, standing regally. He was dismayed to see many other shapes gathered around her—a small crowd of clerks and customers arranged in a loose crescent. Then he saw the two women flanking her. Miss Vale stood on one side and Mrs. Bell on the other! Both wore bright, expectant smiles. Edward’s stomach dropped. Heat rushed into his face as he realized they had assembled for his embarrassment, eager to admire the finished result. He wanted to shrink back to the fitting room, but the enormous dress propelled him forward.
“Smile for your Aunty, darling,” Sabrina whispered urgently without looking at him.
Skye drew close on the other side. “Look pretty and happy,” she breathed. “And be on your very best behavior. You mustn’t disappoint her.”
Edward’s nervousness broke into panic. He could not lift his arms, could not turn, could not even tell whether he was moving or the store was being pulled around him. He strained against the armless bodice until his breath became shallow, and every breath drew more of Sabrina and Skye’s perfume into him. He felt their gentle, feminine warmth on either side of him. He was acutely aware of a tingling friction under his petticoat as his tights and panties rubbed closely against one another with each dainty step. Little electric sparks darted playfully over his skin, and he began to feel lightheaded. Edward held his breath as he was presented for his aunt’s approval.
Aunt Patricia said with a satisfied look, “There we are. At last.” She spoke cheerily, “Don’t you look precious!” Then she prodded her nephew directly. “I chose that exquisite dress especially for you, my darling,” she said brightly, “tell me, dear, don’t you just adore it?”
He heard a loud ringing in his ears, and he felt sealed behind a flawless wall of pink satin. He knew what he was supposed to say. After an awkward, silent moment, he managed to stammer in a defeated whisper, “Yes… Aunty!”
As he spoke, the pressure in his tights increased rapidly in little fits and starts. His face burned crimson, and he felt a sudden pulsing under all the frilly layers of his elaborate pink dress. He winced, and an uncontrolled shudder raced through his body. The lacy frills and ruffled flounces of his dress danced excitedly as if they knew what was happening.
Then the dam broke. “Oh!” he gasped softly. All at once, he realized it was already too late…
His pulse still pounding, Edward woke up with a start. The sun was already up.
2
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on Yesterday at 04:19:16 PM »
Exactly As It Should Be
Edward blinked and was surprised to realize he was still in Morgan & Tate’s, and he was all by himself for the moment. He told himself that he must have just been briefly lost in thought. The ceiling hovered above him in an indistinct haze. Mirrored surfaces and polished brash railings seemed to extend far into the distance. Somewhere overhead, tinkling store music played. It seemed to him that every area of the fancy department store now curved weirdly toward the fitting rooms, as if inviting him to come in. He felt more uneasy. Something had changed, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Then he realized Sabrina and Skye stood on either side of him, smiling as though they had been there all along. Their perfumes reached him immediately, and he inhaled a sweet mix of powdery roses and lavender.
Next, Edward glanced at the large mirror in front of him. He realized, with a start, that he was wearing a pair of stretchy white tights and a matching, close-fitting bralette, but he had absolutely no memory of putting these clothes on. In the reflection, the tights formed one pale line from his waist to his ankles, silvery beneath the store lights and close-fitting. Tiny pink sparkles glimmered across the fabric whenever he shifted, appearing and disappearing like distant points of light. Rows of soft frills circled the otherwise seamless white surface in delicate interruptions. He felt the bralette hugging his chest.
All at once, he seemed to feel what the mirror had revealed to him. His smooth tights felt cool and tight from waist to ankle. Then, the tights began to get steadily warmer. Cool air flowed gently from the vents overhead, but none of it seemed able to reach him through the snug, clinging fabric. Heat gathered beneath his tights until he felt uncomfortably enclosed. His bralette also seemed to heat up and encase him more snugly.
While Edward was distracted by his clothes’ sudden embrace, Sabrina wrapped a firmly boned corset around him from behind, fitting its rigid panels into place with ease. She caught the laces and gave a first cheerful pull. With a rush of concern, he understood instantly that the corset would lock around the upper edge of the tights, leaving no gap between the layer that clung to his legs and the rigid shell starting to close around his middle. It all seemed to join seamlessly with his bralette. He flinched as the corset closed around the upper edge of the tights and under his bralette, joining all three garments exactly as he had feared.
“There we are,” Sabrina murmured gently, as if his nervousness were actually proof that everything was proceeding correctly. In the mirror, Edward could see her behind him as she tightened his corset. She gave another firm pull on the laces, “That’s better.” It made his breath catch. She smiled and said, “this is perfectly normal, sweetheart.”
Skye rested a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Just relax, honey.”
Sabrina pulled once more. “Slow breaths,” she soothed. Edward attempted one, but it stopped high in his chest.
“See? You’re doing beautifully,” Skye praised him.
Sabrina continued pulling and crossing the laces while Edward’s breath shortened even more, and his pulse quickened. In the blink of an eye, the mirrors all around him seemed to jump closer in. Something was not right. He began to fret aloud. “Did you see that?” Edward asked feebly, “the mirrors moving?”
“You’re so silly,” Skye giggled brightly, “everything is fine, sweetheart.”
Sabrina and Skye exchanged sunny smiles. “We’re nearly finished.” Skye nodded. “Exactly as planned.”
Edward stared at their reflections. “What plan?” he whispered nervously. He was confused. “What happens when you finish?” he asked timidly.
“You’ll see,” Sabrina promised.
He began to worry at every sound, every movement beyond the corner of his vision, every soft assertion that nothing was wrong. By the time Sabrina tied the final knot, Edward’s pulse was racing and his thoughts had become a frantic jumble.
Sabrina gave his shoulder a soothing pat, “There we are… all safe and sound.”
For an instant, Edward was keenly aware of how the confining tights clung warmly below, while his corset and bralette held him upright and unyielding above. He understood with mounting panic that together they formed a hidden foundation for everything still to come.
“Arms down, sweetheart,” Skye said in the next moment. but Edward realized his arms were already close by his sides. It didn’t seem to make sense. Out of nowhere, an impossibly extravagant dress suddenly appeared in her hands. It was a swelling pink cloud of fabric poised to bury his narrow, delicate outline beneath layer after layer of volume. Quickly, Skye lifted the pink dress above him. It was excessive in every way, an impossible tower of ruffles, frills, bows, flounces, and pleats. He flinched as she lowered it over his head. Pink satin streamed past his face, followed by lace, then more satin, then a parade of ruffles. Edward tried to get his hands through the sleeves, but he couldn’t find them. When his face finally broke through the collar, he looked in the mirror and saw the dress wrapped around him. He felt his arms pressed flat against his sides inside it. Behind him, Sky began to pull up the zipper. When the zipper reached his neck, he felt like he was being fastened into a strange pink cocoon.
“Wait,” Edward said nervously, “there aren’t any sleeves… I can’t get my arms out.” He twisted, searching for a seam, an opening, anything, but his fingers felt only more pink frills.
“Don’t worry,” Sabrina cooed, smoothing the bodice, “Everything is all right.”
“It’s perfect, sweetie,” Skye cooed, “Just like it’s supposed to be!”
Now, Edward was dismayed to see that a very full petticoat was sewn directly into the dress, layer upon layer of crisp tulle spreading around him with a ceaseless, papery rustle. Even more unsettling, Edward could feel that somewhere under all those billowing layers was a stretchy inner lining, almost like a hobble skirt, holding his legs and knees firmly together almost to his ankles. The fabric flexed when he moved but yielded only a little, forcing him into short, mincing steps whenever he tried to walk. The skirt swelled outward like a vast sugared flower, while the bodice closed around him like a firm embrace. He fruitlessly tried to lift an elbow but realized it was impossible.
Then Skye and Sabrina knelt on either side of him and fitted the cutest pink satin ballet slippers onto his feet. The slippers had elaborate pink ribbons instead of ordinary straps, and the girls wound them carefully around his ankles and calves in neat crossing bands before tying them into precise bows. When Edward shifted, the petticoat whispered, the sparkles flashed, and the ribbons seemed to tighten by themselves, making every part of the outfit feel snug and enveloping. He felt a warm, oddly pleasant, tightness under the flouncy layers of his dress.
As the girls stood up, Skye giggled and delicately adjusted a ruffle beneath his chin. “Everything is exactly as it should be,” she said.
Her breezy reassurance sent a sharper wave of panic through Edward. “They aren’t going to stop,” he thought wildly, “they aren’t even listening to me!” With his arms crushed against his sides, his knees held close, and every ribbon cinched, he felt so sissyishly bundled for display.
Edward blinked and was surprised to realize he was still in Morgan & Tate’s, and he was all by himself for the moment. He told himself that he must have just been briefly lost in thought. The ceiling hovered above him in an indistinct haze. Mirrored surfaces and polished brash railings seemed to extend far into the distance. Somewhere overhead, tinkling store music played. It seemed to him that every area of the fancy department store now curved weirdly toward the fitting rooms, as if inviting him to come in. He felt more uneasy. Something had changed, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Then he realized Sabrina and Skye stood on either side of him, smiling as though they had been there all along. Their perfumes reached him immediately, and he inhaled a sweet mix of powdery roses and lavender.
Next, Edward glanced at the large mirror in front of him. He realized, with a start, that he was wearing a pair of stretchy white tights and a matching, close-fitting bralette, but he had absolutely no memory of putting these clothes on. In the reflection, the tights formed one pale line from his waist to his ankles, silvery beneath the store lights and close-fitting. Tiny pink sparkles glimmered across the fabric whenever he shifted, appearing and disappearing like distant points of light. Rows of soft frills circled the otherwise seamless white surface in delicate interruptions. He felt the bralette hugging his chest.
All at once, he seemed to feel what the mirror had revealed to him. His smooth tights felt cool and tight from waist to ankle. Then, the tights began to get steadily warmer. Cool air flowed gently from the vents overhead, but none of it seemed able to reach him through the snug, clinging fabric. Heat gathered beneath his tights until he felt uncomfortably enclosed. His bralette also seemed to heat up and encase him more snugly.
While Edward was distracted by his clothes’ sudden embrace, Sabrina wrapped a firmly boned corset around him from behind, fitting its rigid panels into place with ease. She caught the laces and gave a first cheerful pull. With a rush of concern, he understood instantly that the corset would lock around the upper edge of the tights, leaving no gap between the layer that clung to his legs and the rigid shell starting to close around his middle. It all seemed to join seamlessly with his bralette. He flinched as the corset closed around the upper edge of the tights and under his bralette, joining all three garments exactly as he had feared.
“There we are,” Sabrina murmured gently, as if his nervousness were actually proof that everything was proceeding correctly. In the mirror, Edward could see her behind him as she tightened his corset. She gave another firm pull on the laces, “That’s better.” It made his breath catch. She smiled and said, “this is perfectly normal, sweetheart.”
Skye rested a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Just relax, honey.”
Sabrina pulled once more. “Slow breaths,” she soothed. Edward attempted one, but it stopped high in his chest.
“See? You’re doing beautifully,” Skye praised him.
Sabrina continued pulling and crossing the laces while Edward’s breath shortened even more, and his pulse quickened. In the blink of an eye, the mirrors all around him seemed to jump closer in. Something was not right. He began to fret aloud. “Did you see that?” Edward asked feebly, “the mirrors moving?”
“You’re so silly,” Skye giggled brightly, “everything is fine, sweetheart.”
Sabrina and Skye exchanged sunny smiles. “We’re nearly finished.” Skye nodded. “Exactly as planned.”
Edward stared at their reflections. “What plan?” he whispered nervously. He was confused. “What happens when you finish?” he asked timidly.
“You’ll see,” Sabrina promised.
He began to worry at every sound, every movement beyond the corner of his vision, every soft assertion that nothing was wrong. By the time Sabrina tied the final knot, Edward’s pulse was racing and his thoughts had become a frantic jumble.
Sabrina gave his shoulder a soothing pat, “There we are… all safe and sound.”
For an instant, Edward was keenly aware of how the confining tights clung warmly below, while his corset and bralette held him upright and unyielding above. He understood with mounting panic that together they formed a hidden foundation for everything still to come.
“Arms down, sweetheart,” Skye said in the next moment. but Edward realized his arms were already close by his sides. It didn’t seem to make sense. Out of nowhere, an impossibly extravagant dress suddenly appeared in her hands. It was a swelling pink cloud of fabric poised to bury his narrow, delicate outline beneath layer after layer of volume. Quickly, Skye lifted the pink dress above him. It was excessive in every way, an impossible tower of ruffles, frills, bows, flounces, and pleats. He flinched as she lowered it over his head. Pink satin streamed past his face, followed by lace, then more satin, then a parade of ruffles. Edward tried to get his hands through the sleeves, but he couldn’t find them. When his face finally broke through the collar, he looked in the mirror and saw the dress wrapped around him. He felt his arms pressed flat against his sides inside it. Behind him, Sky began to pull up the zipper. When the zipper reached his neck, he felt like he was being fastened into a strange pink cocoon.
“Wait,” Edward said nervously, “there aren’t any sleeves… I can’t get my arms out.” He twisted, searching for a seam, an opening, anything, but his fingers felt only more pink frills.
“Don’t worry,” Sabrina cooed, smoothing the bodice, “Everything is all right.”
“It’s perfect, sweetie,” Skye cooed, “Just like it’s supposed to be!”
Now, Edward was dismayed to see that a very full petticoat was sewn directly into the dress, layer upon layer of crisp tulle spreading around him with a ceaseless, papery rustle. Even more unsettling, Edward could feel that somewhere under all those billowing layers was a stretchy inner lining, almost like a hobble skirt, holding his legs and knees firmly together almost to his ankles. The fabric flexed when he moved but yielded only a little, forcing him into short, mincing steps whenever he tried to walk. The skirt swelled outward like a vast sugared flower, while the bodice closed around him like a firm embrace. He fruitlessly tried to lift an elbow but realized it was impossible.
Then Skye and Sabrina knelt on either side of him and fitted the cutest pink satin ballet slippers onto his feet. The slippers had elaborate pink ribbons instead of ordinary straps, and the girls wound them carefully around his ankles and calves in neat crossing bands before tying them into precise bows. When Edward shifted, the petticoat whispered, the sparkles flashed, and the ribbons seemed to tighten by themselves, making every part of the outfit feel snug and enveloping. He felt a warm, oddly pleasant, tightness under the flouncy layers of his dress.
As the girls stood up, Skye giggled and delicately adjusted a ruffle beneath his chin. “Everything is exactly as it should be,” she said.
Her breezy reassurance sent a sharper wave of panic through Edward. “They aren’t going to stop,” he thought wildly, “they aren’t even listening to me!” With his arms crushed against his sides, his knees held close, and every ribbon cinched, he felt so sissyishly bundled for display.
3
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by bonzodoug on September 30, 2026, 01:04:17 AM »
Very much!
I’m quite surprised he is able to go to sleep so quickly while wearing such slippery fabrics, but I expect he will have some lurid dreams. Hopefully he won’t make a nasty male mess in his tap pants - there’s no knowing what Auntie's reaction will be!
I’m quite surprised he is able to go to sleep so quickly while wearing such slippery fabrics, but I expect he will have some lurid dreams. Hopefully he won’t make a nasty male mess in his tap pants - there’s no knowing what Auntie's reaction will be!
4
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on September 29, 2026, 07:46:07 PM »
Added a short paragraph to the last chapter which I meant to include earlier.
Hope folks are enjoying the story :)
Hope folks are enjoying the story :)
5
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on September 28, 2026, 08:47:01 PM »
Bedtime After a Long Day
Finally, the plates were cleared just after eight o’clock. By then Edward felt worn out by the long day. He hoped the lengthening hour might at last persuade Aunt Patricia to leave. Instead, she glanced toward the stairs with renewed purpose. “Well, look at the time,” she said, rising as though the next step were obvious. “Before I go, Marian, why don’t you let me help you get Edward settled for bedtime.”
“Bedtime?!?” Edward thought with confusion and dismay. “But… Aunty… it’s only eight o’clock… it’s not even my bedtime yet,” Edward managed to stammer. He added meekly, “I think I can get ready by myself.”
Aunt Patricia regarded him with a patient smile. “I know it may seem early, sweetie,” she said, smoothing his sleeve, “but you had such a busy day!” She gave his arm a small, reassuring pat. “There was your lovely piano lesson this morning, then all that shopping and so many dress fittings. Anyone would be worn out after so much.”
When he looked ready to object, her smile held. “You even started getting a little cross with Aunty at Morgan & Tate’s, didn’t you?” Her tone was so patronizing. “Remember how Aunty had to be a bit stern with you when you got fussy?” she said with a saccharine smile.
“Fussy?” Edward thought. As he remembered it, he had only meekly asked a tentative question.
She continued cheerfully, “Besides, we have a full day tomorrow with your next sitting, and it would be a shame to arrive all tired and grumpy for Miss Vale.” She beamed at him, “some proper rest will do you good!”
His aunt then smiled coyly, “Oh, and I’m sure you and your mother could manage fine without my help, darling,” she said, “but I must confess that after getting you all those new nightgowns, I want to see how one looks on you.” She glanced toward Marian with an easy finality. “There’s really no reason to make a big fuss. Bring Percy and come along, dear.”
Slowly, realizing that the matter was settled, Edward picked up his doll and followed his aunt upstairs. Once they reached his room, Aunt Patricia indicated the little shelf beside his bed and decided that Percy should sit there for now, “so he won’t be lonely.” Edward’s heart sank as she opened one of his freshly filled drawers and drew out the pale pink satin nightgown with its matching tap pants. The gown was almost knee length, with an extravagantly frilly collar and short sleeves trimmed in layers of soft ruffles. Dainty pink hearts decorated the gorgeous white lace collar. The gown’s delicate satin shimmered in her hands delightfully. “This one, I think,” she said, pleased with herself. “You’ll be as sweet as sugar in these, and they feel so comfy!”
His mother and aunt helped him out of his charming blue dress, and then with cheeks burning Edward changed into the silky pink tap pants. He shivered as he drew them up his legs. They were so generously full and frilly… like bloomers or even pantaloons! Then, Aunt Patricia dropped the shimmery nightgown over his head, and it fluttered around him in a glossy pink fall. Once Aunt Patricia pulled the elastic frilly collar over his head, it cuddled his neck and throat adorably, and its short, ruffled sleeves made his arms look bare and awkward. Edward felt immersed in satin and lace, and he was keenly aware of the nightgown’s silky feel against him with every small movement. He felt a familiar straining in his frilly tap pants and began to redden deeply.
Meanwhile, Aunt Patricia stepped back and sighed as though the sight had completed the day for her. “Oh, Edward, honey” she murmured, smoothing one ruffled sleeve and then the front of the gown with fussy tenderness, “that is simply darling. Much better!” Then, as if remembering one final treasure, she reached into a shopping bag Edward had not noticed beside the door and drew out a fuzzy pink pair of dainty bedroom slippers.
Edward stared. “Where did those come from, Aunty?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Aunt Patricia looked down at them with amused surprise, then gave a light little laugh. “Why, Morgan & Tate’s of course! I think Skye showed them to me while you were in the dressing room with Sabrina,” she mused. “Aren’t they precious? So soft and feminine, and just the thing for padding about in your pretty new nightgowns.” She set them neatly before his feet, and Edward, too tired and overwhelmed to object, stepped into them. The fuzzy pink slippers swallowed the tops of his feet, making the whole outfit look even more sissyish. "Now you'll be as snug as a pretty little bug in a rug!" she giggled.
Once more, his mother had the same muted smile on her face. It was obvious she knew that there was no stopping Aunt Patricia, so she simply said, “It is very cute on you, sweetheart.”
With an approving sigh, Aunt Patricia looked him over from head to toe. “There,” she said, satisfied at last, “absolutely darling!” She added, “Such a prim and proper look!” Back downstairs a few minutes later, she gave his cheek one final fond pat.
“Nighty-night, darling!” she said as she gathered her handbag, “and give your dear little Percy a kiss for me!”
“Uh… OK Aunty…” he said glumly, “Good night.”
Finally, she gathered her handbag and left.
Edward was exhausted, and all his other pajamas were now packed away. It was clear that even his bedtime had now been claimed by satin, ruffles and Aunt Patricia’s designs. He said good night to his mother. Then, he wearily went upstairs and brushed his teeth. He took one more uneasy look at the explosion of dresses and shoes now dominating his closet. Finally, he looked at the doll… his doll. Percy stared back at him in his darling little blue suit. Edward was wistful as he realized how masculine it looked compared to what he wore now.
Then he suddenly remembered Aunt Patricia’s parting admonition to give Percy a kiss for her. Edward squirmed reflexively, and he glanced toward the doorway even though no one was there to see. That almost made it worse. It was ridiculous enough to think of kissing a doll because his aunt told him to. But what if she asked him about it later? He could already imagine her bright, knowing smile, and he feared that she would know if he wasn’t truthful. He stared at Percy for a long, miserable moment, appalled that he already knew he was going to do it. Then, absurdly worried Aunt Patricia might somehow read his mind, he lightly tapped his fingertips against his lips and darted them against the pretty doll’s cheek. His face burned even in the empty room. Silently, barely able to endure his own foolishness, he silently mouthed, “Good night, Percy.” He snatched his hand back at once, scarcely able to believe that, with nobody watching at all, he had actually done it.
He slipped into bed wearing his frilly new nightgown and tap pants. He fell asleep almost immediately.
Finally, the plates were cleared just after eight o’clock. By then Edward felt worn out by the long day. He hoped the lengthening hour might at last persuade Aunt Patricia to leave. Instead, she glanced toward the stairs with renewed purpose. “Well, look at the time,” she said, rising as though the next step were obvious. “Before I go, Marian, why don’t you let me help you get Edward settled for bedtime.”
“Bedtime?!?” Edward thought with confusion and dismay. “But… Aunty… it’s only eight o’clock… it’s not even my bedtime yet,” Edward managed to stammer. He added meekly, “I think I can get ready by myself.”
Aunt Patricia regarded him with a patient smile. “I know it may seem early, sweetie,” she said, smoothing his sleeve, “but you had such a busy day!” She gave his arm a small, reassuring pat. “There was your lovely piano lesson this morning, then all that shopping and so many dress fittings. Anyone would be worn out after so much.”
When he looked ready to object, her smile held. “You even started getting a little cross with Aunty at Morgan & Tate’s, didn’t you?” Her tone was so patronizing. “Remember how Aunty had to be a bit stern with you when you got fussy?” she said with a saccharine smile.
“Fussy?” Edward thought. As he remembered it, he had only meekly asked a tentative question.
She continued cheerfully, “Besides, we have a full day tomorrow with your next sitting, and it would be a shame to arrive all tired and grumpy for Miss Vale.” She beamed at him, “some proper rest will do you good!”
His aunt then smiled coyly, “Oh, and I’m sure you and your mother could manage fine without my help, darling,” she said, “but I must confess that after getting you all those new nightgowns, I want to see how one looks on you.” She glanced toward Marian with an easy finality. “There’s really no reason to make a big fuss. Bring Percy and come along, dear.”
Slowly, realizing that the matter was settled, Edward picked up his doll and followed his aunt upstairs. Once they reached his room, Aunt Patricia indicated the little shelf beside his bed and decided that Percy should sit there for now, “so he won’t be lonely.” Edward’s heart sank as she opened one of his freshly filled drawers and drew out the pale pink satin nightgown with its matching tap pants. The gown was almost knee length, with an extravagantly frilly collar and short sleeves trimmed in layers of soft ruffles. Dainty pink hearts decorated the gorgeous white lace collar. The gown’s delicate satin shimmered in her hands delightfully. “This one, I think,” she said, pleased with herself. “You’ll be as sweet as sugar in these, and they feel so comfy!”
His mother and aunt helped him out of his charming blue dress, and then with cheeks burning Edward changed into the silky pink tap pants. He shivered as he drew them up his legs. They were so generously full and frilly… like bloomers or even pantaloons! Then, Aunt Patricia dropped the shimmery nightgown over his head, and it fluttered around him in a glossy pink fall. Once Aunt Patricia pulled the elastic frilly collar over his head, it cuddled his neck and throat adorably, and its short, ruffled sleeves made his arms look bare and awkward. Edward felt immersed in satin and lace, and he was keenly aware of the nightgown’s silky feel against him with every small movement. He felt a familiar straining in his frilly tap pants and began to redden deeply.
Meanwhile, Aunt Patricia stepped back and sighed as though the sight had completed the day for her. “Oh, Edward, honey” she murmured, smoothing one ruffled sleeve and then the front of the gown with fussy tenderness, “that is simply darling. Much better!” Then, as if remembering one final treasure, she reached into a shopping bag Edward had not noticed beside the door and drew out a fuzzy pink pair of dainty bedroom slippers.
Edward stared. “Where did those come from, Aunty?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Aunt Patricia looked down at them with amused surprise, then gave a light little laugh. “Why, Morgan & Tate’s of course! I think Skye showed them to me while you were in the dressing room with Sabrina,” she mused. “Aren’t they precious? So soft and feminine, and just the thing for padding about in your pretty new nightgowns.” She set them neatly before his feet, and Edward, too tired and overwhelmed to object, stepped into them. The fuzzy pink slippers swallowed the tops of his feet, making the whole outfit look even more sissyish. "Now you'll be as snug as a pretty little bug in a rug!" she giggled.
Once more, his mother had the same muted smile on her face. It was obvious she knew that there was no stopping Aunt Patricia, so she simply said, “It is very cute on you, sweetheart.”
With an approving sigh, Aunt Patricia looked him over from head to toe. “There,” she said, satisfied at last, “absolutely darling!” She added, “Such a prim and proper look!” Back downstairs a few minutes later, she gave his cheek one final fond pat.
“Nighty-night, darling!” she said as she gathered her handbag, “and give your dear little Percy a kiss for me!”
“Uh… OK Aunty…” he said glumly, “Good night.”
Finally, she gathered her handbag and left.
Edward was exhausted, and all his other pajamas were now packed away. It was clear that even his bedtime had now been claimed by satin, ruffles and Aunt Patricia’s designs. He said good night to his mother. Then, he wearily went upstairs and brushed his teeth. He took one more uneasy look at the explosion of dresses and shoes now dominating his closet. Finally, he looked at the doll… his doll. Percy stared back at him in his darling little blue suit. Edward was wistful as he realized how masculine it looked compared to what he wore now.
Then he suddenly remembered Aunt Patricia’s parting admonition to give Percy a kiss for her. Edward squirmed reflexively, and he glanced toward the doorway even though no one was there to see. That almost made it worse. It was ridiculous enough to think of kissing a doll because his aunt told him to. But what if she asked him about it later? He could already imagine her bright, knowing smile, and he feared that she would know if he wasn’t truthful. He stared at Percy for a long, miserable moment, appalled that he already knew he was going to do it. Then, absurdly worried Aunt Patricia might somehow read his mind, he lightly tapped his fingertips against his lips and darted them against the pretty doll’s cheek. His face burned even in the empty room. Silently, barely able to endure his own foolishness, he silently mouthed, “Good night, Percy.” He snatched his hand back at once, scarcely able to believe that, with nobody watching at all, he had actually done it.
He slipped into bed wearing his frilly new nightgown and tap pants. He fell asleep almost immediately.
6
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on September 26, 2026, 04:11:09 PM »
Aunt Patricia Stays for Dinner
By now it was well into the early evening. With a small, barely audible sigh, Edward’s mother seemed to realize that Patricia was in no apparent hurry to leave. Her sister had settled in comfortably, and the row of newly arranged dresses in Edward’s closet had done little to satisfy her energy.
Eventually, Marian glanced toward the clock and then toward the kitchen. “Patricia,” she said, with resigned politeness, “since you are still here, and we haven’t eaten, would you like to stay for dinner?”
Aunt Patricia accepted at once, looking pleasantly unsurprised by the offer. “That would be lovely, Marian, thank you! Don’t go to any trouble on my account… just whatever you were planning.”
Edward’s heart sank. He had hoped dinner would be the first normal thing to happen since morning, but that hope quickly faded. Of course, he remained dressed in the pretty blue frock from Morgan & Tate’s. Although the straw boater was now put away in his bedroom, Aunt Patricia had insisted on pinning a new blue hair bow neatly in his curls in place of the hat.
Dinner was simple, but to Edward it dragged on forever. Aunt Patricia relished the opportunity to give Edward pointers on his table manners. She watched him with bright, satisfied attention, correcting the way he used his napkin and ate his food. “Little bites, dear” she chided. Then, when he reached for his glass, she added, “Napkin first. Just dab, sweetheart. A light touch—there, like that.”
Edward tried to obey while heat repeatedly crept up his face. Aunt Patricia seemed to delight in each little bit of helpful advice. The conversation thankfully drifted to mundane things—the vegetables, the weather, whether the bread needed warming. As the meal finished, however, Aunt Patricia folded her hands and seemed to remember something with bright amusement. “Oh, Edward,” she said, “I noticed that lovely doll I gave you at Easter earlier in the den. I hope you’ve been enjoying him.”
Edward nearly froze beside his chair. He had tried to forget the vintage doll on the shelf, posed stiffly in its little chair, but Aunt Patricia’s expectant look caught him off guard. With warming cheeks, he murmured, “Uh, yes Aunty… it’s very nice.”
Aunt Patricia leaned back slightly now, with a playful and expectant smile. “Tell me, dear, I’ve been meaning to ask, what did you name him?”
Edward blinked. “Name him, Aunty?”
Aunt Patricia’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated shock. “Now Edward, don’t tell me you never gave him a name.” She placed a hand against her chest and grinned brightly, mock scandalized. “Oh sweetheart, a doll like that is not a paperweight. Dolls are meant to be treasured and loved, and they ought to have proper names!”
With burning cheeks, Edward murmured, “Uh… yes, Aunty.” He had a helplessly bewildered look on his face. It seemed surreal that he was having this conversation at all. He added lamely, “I didn’t really think…”
“Oh my goodness, dear, then we must think now,” Patricia said pleasantly. “Such a nice doll needs a proper name… He shouldn’t sit there anonymously after all this time.” She added cheerfully, “Luckily your Aunt Patricia is here to help! Why don’t you go fetch him so we can decide what we will call him?” It was phrased as a question, but her tone expected compliance.
Blushing, Edward slipped away to the den, conscious of his rustling petticoat as he rose and skittered obediently away. This whole business of naming a doll felt utterly sissifying. It made him cringe to know that he would soon be doing it. When he returned, he held the doll awkwardly against his chest. The doll’s little blue knee suit was neat and crisp, with his tiny jacket, short trousers, stockings, and polished shoes. Edward winced as he remembered how Aunt Patricia had described it as his “little twin,” exactly matching the outfit she had given him for Easter. Dressed as he was now, however, he and the doll no longer looked like twins... at least not twin boys.
Aunt Patricia patted the chair beside her for Edward to sit back down. Edward obeyed gingerly, folding himself into the chair with his cheeks already warm and the doll held stiffly on his lap. His mother watched with a faint, uncertain smile. Edward could feel his pretty blue dress spread neatly around his knees, and his petticoat gave a betraying little swish every time he shifted.
Aunt Patricia’s eyes sparkled as she watched Edward hold his doll. “He really is a handsome little fellow, isn’t he?”
Edward gulped, but he remained silent as his aunt seemed to draw out the moment.
“Well now,” Aunt Patricia continued, “What should we call him?”
It was obvious that Aunt Patricia expected him to suggest some names. She sat back with an encouraging little smile, patient and bright-eyed, as though they had all the time in the world for this decision. Edward stared down at the doll on his lap, and his mind went blank. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Teenage boys didn’t name dolls… little girls did! “I don’t know, Aunty,” he muttered finally, grasping for names, “Maybe… maybe Tommy?”
Aunt Patricia tilted her head. “Tommy... short for Thomas?” she repeated, as if testing the name out. "Wasn't your little friend from lunch named Tommy too?" she giggled. After a moment, she gave a little shake of her head and said, “No, I don’t think so. That sounds much too plain. Try another one, sweetheart.”
Edward gave a helpless little shrug. Then, he remembered a musical he had watched on television with his mother a while back. “Uh… Oliver?” he tried.
“Hmmm… somewhat better,” Aunt Patricia allowed, smiling. “But not quite, I think. He doesn't look like an 'Ollie' to me. He has such a sweet, serious face, and he does resemble you so much... that was why I chose him for you, you know.” She said it fondly, but Edward felt a weight behind her words. Her smile sharpened with pleasure. “He needs a name with more breeding.” Then she smiled, as if she had just had a pleasant inspiration, “I know… what do you think of Percy, sweetheart?”
Edward swallowed. “Percy?” he repeated, the effete name emerging more like a question than a decision.
Patricia’s face brightened. “Percy,” she repeated, pleased. “Yes. I think that suits him rather nicely. Percy is the diminutive of Percival, of course—an elegant name, just like Edward.” She looked at him intently, enjoying the comparison. “Dear little Percy in his blue knee suit, sitting there like your pretty little double.” She chuckled, satisfied by the success of this little exchange. “There now. That feels right, doesn’t it?”
Edward said nothing. Aunt Patricia’s smile lingered as she took another small sip of water.
“Percy it is,” she decided approvingly, “I do expect he gets lonely on that shelf in the den by himself all the time…” Her gaze flicked to Edward for the briefest instant with a smile, “He really should stay with you in your room.” Then, as an afterthought, she set down her glass and said, “I also would think Percy is a little jealous of your pretty new wardrobe now.” She laughed at once, as if it were a charming little joke, and waved the idea away with her fingers. “Oh, listen to me. Imagine dressing dolls at my age.” But the laugh did not quite clear the air. Something in the casual way Patricia had said it, and in the pleased little glance she gave Edward afterward, made his skin prickle.
By now it was well into the early evening. With a small, barely audible sigh, Edward’s mother seemed to realize that Patricia was in no apparent hurry to leave. Her sister had settled in comfortably, and the row of newly arranged dresses in Edward’s closet had done little to satisfy her energy.
Eventually, Marian glanced toward the clock and then toward the kitchen. “Patricia,” she said, with resigned politeness, “since you are still here, and we haven’t eaten, would you like to stay for dinner?”
Aunt Patricia accepted at once, looking pleasantly unsurprised by the offer. “That would be lovely, Marian, thank you! Don’t go to any trouble on my account… just whatever you were planning.”
Edward’s heart sank. He had hoped dinner would be the first normal thing to happen since morning, but that hope quickly faded. Of course, he remained dressed in the pretty blue frock from Morgan & Tate’s. Although the straw boater was now put away in his bedroom, Aunt Patricia had insisted on pinning a new blue hair bow neatly in his curls in place of the hat.
Dinner was simple, but to Edward it dragged on forever. Aunt Patricia relished the opportunity to give Edward pointers on his table manners. She watched him with bright, satisfied attention, correcting the way he used his napkin and ate his food. “Little bites, dear” she chided. Then, when he reached for his glass, she added, “Napkin first. Just dab, sweetheart. A light touch—there, like that.”
Edward tried to obey while heat repeatedly crept up his face. Aunt Patricia seemed to delight in each little bit of helpful advice. The conversation thankfully drifted to mundane things—the vegetables, the weather, whether the bread needed warming. As the meal finished, however, Aunt Patricia folded her hands and seemed to remember something with bright amusement. “Oh, Edward,” she said, “I noticed that lovely doll I gave you at Easter earlier in the den. I hope you’ve been enjoying him.”
Edward nearly froze beside his chair. He had tried to forget the vintage doll on the shelf, posed stiffly in its little chair, but Aunt Patricia’s expectant look caught him off guard. With warming cheeks, he murmured, “Uh, yes Aunty… it’s very nice.”
Aunt Patricia leaned back slightly now, with a playful and expectant smile. “Tell me, dear, I’ve been meaning to ask, what did you name him?”
Edward blinked. “Name him, Aunty?”
Aunt Patricia’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated shock. “Now Edward, don’t tell me you never gave him a name.” She placed a hand against her chest and grinned brightly, mock scandalized. “Oh sweetheart, a doll like that is not a paperweight. Dolls are meant to be treasured and loved, and they ought to have proper names!”
With burning cheeks, Edward murmured, “Uh… yes, Aunty.” He had a helplessly bewildered look on his face. It seemed surreal that he was having this conversation at all. He added lamely, “I didn’t really think…”
“Oh my goodness, dear, then we must think now,” Patricia said pleasantly. “Such a nice doll needs a proper name… He shouldn’t sit there anonymously after all this time.” She added cheerfully, “Luckily your Aunt Patricia is here to help! Why don’t you go fetch him so we can decide what we will call him?” It was phrased as a question, but her tone expected compliance.
Blushing, Edward slipped away to the den, conscious of his rustling petticoat as he rose and skittered obediently away. This whole business of naming a doll felt utterly sissifying. It made him cringe to know that he would soon be doing it. When he returned, he held the doll awkwardly against his chest. The doll’s little blue knee suit was neat and crisp, with his tiny jacket, short trousers, stockings, and polished shoes. Edward winced as he remembered how Aunt Patricia had described it as his “little twin,” exactly matching the outfit she had given him for Easter. Dressed as he was now, however, he and the doll no longer looked like twins... at least not twin boys.
Aunt Patricia patted the chair beside her for Edward to sit back down. Edward obeyed gingerly, folding himself into the chair with his cheeks already warm and the doll held stiffly on his lap. His mother watched with a faint, uncertain smile. Edward could feel his pretty blue dress spread neatly around his knees, and his petticoat gave a betraying little swish every time he shifted.
Aunt Patricia’s eyes sparkled as she watched Edward hold his doll. “He really is a handsome little fellow, isn’t he?”
Edward gulped, but he remained silent as his aunt seemed to draw out the moment.
“Well now,” Aunt Patricia continued, “What should we call him?”
It was obvious that Aunt Patricia expected him to suggest some names. She sat back with an encouraging little smile, patient and bright-eyed, as though they had all the time in the world for this decision. Edward stared down at the doll on his lap, and his mind went blank. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Teenage boys didn’t name dolls… little girls did! “I don’t know, Aunty,” he muttered finally, grasping for names, “Maybe… maybe Tommy?”
Aunt Patricia tilted her head. “Tommy... short for Thomas?” she repeated, as if testing the name out. "Wasn't your little friend from lunch named Tommy too?" she giggled. After a moment, she gave a little shake of her head and said, “No, I don’t think so. That sounds much too plain. Try another one, sweetheart.”
Edward gave a helpless little shrug. Then, he remembered a musical he had watched on television with his mother a while back. “Uh… Oliver?” he tried.
“Hmmm… somewhat better,” Aunt Patricia allowed, smiling. “But not quite, I think. He doesn't look like an 'Ollie' to me. He has such a sweet, serious face, and he does resemble you so much... that was why I chose him for you, you know.” She said it fondly, but Edward felt a weight behind her words. Her smile sharpened with pleasure. “He needs a name with more breeding.” Then she smiled, as if she had just had a pleasant inspiration, “I know… what do you think of Percy, sweetheart?”
Edward swallowed. “Percy?” he repeated, the effete name emerging more like a question than a decision.
Patricia’s face brightened. “Percy,” she repeated, pleased. “Yes. I think that suits him rather nicely. Percy is the diminutive of Percival, of course—an elegant name, just like Edward.” She looked at him intently, enjoying the comparison. “Dear little Percy in his blue knee suit, sitting there like your pretty little double.” She chuckled, satisfied by the success of this little exchange. “There now. That feels right, doesn’t it?”
Edward said nothing. Aunt Patricia’s smile lingered as she took another small sip of water.
“Percy it is,” she decided approvingly, “I do expect he gets lonely on that shelf in the den by himself all the time…” Her gaze flicked to Edward for the briefest instant with a smile, “He really should stay with you in your room.” Then, as an afterthought, she set down her glass and said, “I also would think Percy is a little jealous of your pretty new wardrobe now.” She laughed at once, as if it were a charming little joke, and waved the idea away with her fingers. “Oh, listen to me. Imagine dressing dolls at my age.” But the laugh did not quite clear the air. Something in the casual way Patricia had said it, and in the pleased little glance she gave Edward afterward, made his skin prickle.
7
Active Sissy Stories / Re: A Visit to My Sister's House
« Last post by sissy marci on September 26, 2026, 03:47:54 PM »
Lovely story of love, what a lucky little boy!
8
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissybaby34 on September 24, 2026, 12:49:36 AM »
Everyone needs an Aunt Patricia!
9
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on September 23, 2026, 07:27:16 PM »
A Proper Wardrobe at Last
With that matter settled, Aunt Patricia then turned brightly to Sabrina. “Well, I think that will do it, dear,” she said with satisfaction. She added jovially, “at least for today!” She continued, “please total everything up for us and put it all on my card.” As Aunt Patricia reached into her purse and handed over a sleek black credit card with silver trim, she exclaimed, “What a successful afternoon!”
Next, Aunt Patricia nudged Edward forward slightly and kept one hand lightly between his shoulder blades as she spoke, “I know my nephew is just dying to wear his adorable new outfits, so why wait?” Edward’s stomach jumped as Aunt Patricia tapped a finger against her chin in thought. Then, having made up her mind, she turned to Sabrina and instructed, “please be a dear and put him back into that first charming blue dress—the one with the lace trim. The matching Mary Janes with it, I think, and a pair of the white anklets… and, oh yes, his delightful new petticoat. Our little ‘petticoat princess’ will wear all that home.” She smiled and concluded, “please box everything else up for us.”
Edward cringed at being called a “petticoat princess,” but it seemed the sissyish nickname was growing on his aunt.
A little later, as they prepared to depart Morgan & Tate’s, Edward stood near the fitting-room mirrors fetchingly attired in his new baby blue dress with the delicately embroidered lace trim. After pocketing a very substantial commission, Sabrina and Skye had taken pains over every detail to ensure he was picture perfect for his aunt! The white sash and bow complemented the vintage-inspired style of the dress, and his new petticoat rustled and swished gaily with each step. The lace at the hem of his skirt brushed his knees whenever he shifted his weight. A darling pair of white frilly anklets and his new pastel blue Mary Janes adorned his feet. He delicately clutched his dainty white purse because Aunt Patricia had told him not to let it dangle “like a sack.”
Edward was taken off guard again when Skye said, “Please indulge me, but I’ve been wanting to add a darling last touch to your look.” Before he could react, she produced a small tube of pink gloss from beside the register.
Belatedly, Edward drew back, “No, please, I don’t need—”
“Hush sweetie… let’s just try a little,” she interrupted, smiling at him in the mirror, “Be still for me.” She twisted the cap free and dabbed the delicate shine across his lower lip, then the upper, quick and careful as if she were finishing a display. Aunt Patricia and Sabrina watched this little exchange with charmed smiles. “There,” Skye said, “Adorable!”
Edward reluctantly pressed his lips together and tasted the sweet, waxy lip gloss with chagrin. Looking in the mirror, he saw the prominent shimmer it left behind.
Skye slipped the tube into his new purse and patted the clasp shut. “My treat,” she said brightly.
Aunt Patricia beamed. “How thoughtful.” Then, she urged her nephew, “What do we say, dear?”
Edward’s cheeks warmed to pair sweetly with the fresh shine on his lips. “Uh… thanks,” he murmured.
Aunt Patricia’s smile sharpened pleasantly. “Oh, darling you can do better than that, I’m sure! A proper thank-you is more than simply mouthing the words,” she prompted. “Tell Miss Skye what you are thankful for.”
Edward swallowed and glanced toward the little purse. “Thank you for the… my… pretty lip gloss... Miss Skye,” he said, his voice small and sheepish.
Sabrina then piped in. “Do you know what would make it absolutely perfect?” she asked, already reaching for the charming straw boater hat with its pretty chiffon bow. A moment later, it was settled daintily atop Edward’s curls, completing a fetching little picture.
By then, word of the spectacle in the girls’ department had traveled farther than Edward realized. Clerks from other departments found excuses to linger near the main aisle. Even a few shoppers slowed with bags tucked against their elbows. A couple of college-aged boys from the men’s department came to gawk and snicker as well. As Edward emerged, the ordinary store noises thinned around him. Conversations dipped, then resumed in hushed little bursts.
“Oh, isn’t he precious,” one clerk said, loudly enough that the words carried down the aisle.
“Just like a little doll,” another called out. The tittering compliment drew a quick ripple of laughter from two women near the makeup counter. “I heard his aunt bought half the department!” she added.
As he walked timidly beside his glowing Aunt Patricia, Sabrina pushed a cart behind them overflowing with ribboned boxes, shoe cartons, tissue-wrapped parcels, and shopping bags. Skye followed with a chrome luggage cart, its rail crowded with white hanging garment bags containing all his lovely new dresses.
When they reached the car, Aunt Patricia turned to Sabrina and Skye and spoke to them gaily. “You girls have been marvelous with getting my little nephew into a much more appropriate wardrobe. We will certainly remember your help.”
Sabrina and Skye chuckled gaily as they realized what a generous commission they had both just earned.
“I can’t wait for you to come back for some more nice outfits, honey,” Sabrina gushed to Edward.
“Thank you so much for letting us help you and this little sweetie pie today,” Skye added enthusiastically, patting Edward fondly on his shoulder, “See you next time!”
Edward squirmed in embarrassment. “Next time…?” he thought dejectedly.
When they finally returned home, Aunt Patricia looked more triumphant than ever, with Edward beside her in his baby blue dress and the car emptied of a startling number of boxes, bags, and garment sleeves. Edward’s mother stopped short at the sight of him, then at the parcels being carried in. Her eyebrows arched as she took in just how much Aunt Patricia had bought. For a moment she seemed ready to say something about the extravagance of it all, but the remark never came. Instead, she let her gaze settle on Edward’s straw boater and said, “What a precious little hat, dear.”
Aunt Patricia smiled jauntily and said, “Now our little darling will have a proper wardrobe to choose from at last.”
One by one, Aunt Patricia excitedly opened the packages in the den like treasure from a voyage Edward had not agreed to take. She relished describing them and holding them up against her nephew to show them off to her sister. His mother had an air of silent acceptance as she lifted the pink floral sundress, then the lavender one. She gave a barely audible gasp when she saw the elaborately girlish cream and apricot party dress. Her expression looked more thoughtful than surprised when the matching pink and purple satin party dresses were unveiled. She seemed to really like the sage green chiffon creation. Despite herself, she giggled quietly when she saw the rhumba tights with the pink hearts.
Edward stood powerlessly in his dainty blue dress, wanting to recoil as each new garment was revealed. Everything felt so much more permanent now.
Before his Aunty left for the evening, she took great pleasure in making sure all his pretty new things were hung prominently in his bedroom closet or folded daintily in his dresser drawers. She moved through his room with pleased authority, opening drawers, shifting stacks, making little decisions in a tone that invited no discussion. Hairbows were laid in careful rows like prizes; lace anklets were paired and folded; panties and bralettes were tucked into his top drawer where his ordinary underwear had always been.
Aunt Patricia then cleaned out space for his new footwear, “Shoes do so much to finish a look.” The black Mary Janes were set side by side beneath the dresses, followed by the white summer pair, the ivory ballet flats, the T-strap sandals with silver buckles, the strappy white peep-toes with their tiny bowknots, the black penny loafers, and his glitter-pink “princess shoes.”
To his chagrin, most of his boys’ clothes were unceremoniously shoved into large garbage bags and stored in the guest room closet to “save space.” Tee shirts, shorts, old sneakers, and loose pajamas disappeared with a sad rustle of plastic. Aunt Patricia smiled all the while, saying how much neater and organized everything would be now, but Edward felt as though his room had been quietly conquered. His closet door now opened on a girlish new wardrobe of frilly dresses and darling shoes. Everything in his room seemed to retreat behind satin, lace, ribbons, and the steady certainty of Aunt Patricia’s voice.
With that matter settled, Aunt Patricia then turned brightly to Sabrina. “Well, I think that will do it, dear,” she said with satisfaction. She added jovially, “at least for today!” She continued, “please total everything up for us and put it all on my card.” As Aunt Patricia reached into her purse and handed over a sleek black credit card with silver trim, she exclaimed, “What a successful afternoon!”
Next, Aunt Patricia nudged Edward forward slightly and kept one hand lightly between his shoulder blades as she spoke, “I know my nephew is just dying to wear his adorable new outfits, so why wait?” Edward’s stomach jumped as Aunt Patricia tapped a finger against her chin in thought. Then, having made up her mind, she turned to Sabrina and instructed, “please be a dear and put him back into that first charming blue dress—the one with the lace trim. The matching Mary Janes with it, I think, and a pair of the white anklets… and, oh yes, his delightful new petticoat. Our little ‘petticoat princess’ will wear all that home.” She smiled and concluded, “please box everything else up for us.”
Edward cringed at being called a “petticoat princess,” but it seemed the sissyish nickname was growing on his aunt.
A little later, as they prepared to depart Morgan & Tate’s, Edward stood near the fitting-room mirrors fetchingly attired in his new baby blue dress with the delicately embroidered lace trim. After pocketing a very substantial commission, Sabrina and Skye had taken pains over every detail to ensure he was picture perfect for his aunt! The white sash and bow complemented the vintage-inspired style of the dress, and his new petticoat rustled and swished gaily with each step. The lace at the hem of his skirt brushed his knees whenever he shifted his weight. A darling pair of white frilly anklets and his new pastel blue Mary Janes adorned his feet. He delicately clutched his dainty white purse because Aunt Patricia had told him not to let it dangle “like a sack.”
Edward was taken off guard again when Skye said, “Please indulge me, but I’ve been wanting to add a darling last touch to your look.” Before he could react, she produced a small tube of pink gloss from beside the register.
Belatedly, Edward drew back, “No, please, I don’t need—”
“Hush sweetie… let’s just try a little,” she interrupted, smiling at him in the mirror, “Be still for me.” She twisted the cap free and dabbed the delicate shine across his lower lip, then the upper, quick and careful as if she were finishing a display. Aunt Patricia and Sabrina watched this little exchange with charmed smiles. “There,” Skye said, “Adorable!”
Edward reluctantly pressed his lips together and tasted the sweet, waxy lip gloss with chagrin. Looking in the mirror, he saw the prominent shimmer it left behind.
Skye slipped the tube into his new purse and patted the clasp shut. “My treat,” she said brightly.
Aunt Patricia beamed. “How thoughtful.” Then, she urged her nephew, “What do we say, dear?”
Edward’s cheeks warmed to pair sweetly with the fresh shine on his lips. “Uh… thanks,” he murmured.
Aunt Patricia’s smile sharpened pleasantly. “Oh, darling you can do better than that, I’m sure! A proper thank-you is more than simply mouthing the words,” she prompted. “Tell Miss Skye what you are thankful for.”
Edward swallowed and glanced toward the little purse. “Thank you for the… my… pretty lip gloss... Miss Skye,” he said, his voice small and sheepish.
Sabrina then piped in. “Do you know what would make it absolutely perfect?” she asked, already reaching for the charming straw boater hat with its pretty chiffon bow. A moment later, it was settled daintily atop Edward’s curls, completing a fetching little picture.
By then, word of the spectacle in the girls’ department had traveled farther than Edward realized. Clerks from other departments found excuses to linger near the main aisle. Even a few shoppers slowed with bags tucked against their elbows. A couple of college-aged boys from the men’s department came to gawk and snicker as well. As Edward emerged, the ordinary store noises thinned around him. Conversations dipped, then resumed in hushed little bursts.
“Oh, isn’t he precious,” one clerk said, loudly enough that the words carried down the aisle.
“Just like a little doll,” another called out. The tittering compliment drew a quick ripple of laughter from two women near the makeup counter. “I heard his aunt bought half the department!” she added.
As he walked timidly beside his glowing Aunt Patricia, Sabrina pushed a cart behind them overflowing with ribboned boxes, shoe cartons, tissue-wrapped parcels, and shopping bags. Skye followed with a chrome luggage cart, its rail crowded with white hanging garment bags containing all his lovely new dresses.
When they reached the car, Aunt Patricia turned to Sabrina and Skye and spoke to them gaily. “You girls have been marvelous with getting my little nephew into a much more appropriate wardrobe. We will certainly remember your help.”
Sabrina and Skye chuckled gaily as they realized what a generous commission they had both just earned.
“I can’t wait for you to come back for some more nice outfits, honey,” Sabrina gushed to Edward.
“Thank you so much for letting us help you and this little sweetie pie today,” Skye added enthusiastically, patting Edward fondly on his shoulder, “See you next time!”
Edward squirmed in embarrassment. “Next time…?” he thought dejectedly.
When they finally returned home, Aunt Patricia looked more triumphant than ever, with Edward beside her in his baby blue dress and the car emptied of a startling number of boxes, bags, and garment sleeves. Edward’s mother stopped short at the sight of him, then at the parcels being carried in. Her eyebrows arched as she took in just how much Aunt Patricia had bought. For a moment she seemed ready to say something about the extravagance of it all, but the remark never came. Instead, she let her gaze settle on Edward’s straw boater and said, “What a precious little hat, dear.”
Aunt Patricia smiled jauntily and said, “Now our little darling will have a proper wardrobe to choose from at last.”
One by one, Aunt Patricia excitedly opened the packages in the den like treasure from a voyage Edward had not agreed to take. She relished describing them and holding them up against her nephew to show them off to her sister. His mother had an air of silent acceptance as she lifted the pink floral sundress, then the lavender one. She gave a barely audible gasp when she saw the elaborately girlish cream and apricot party dress. Her expression looked more thoughtful than surprised when the matching pink and purple satin party dresses were unveiled. She seemed to really like the sage green chiffon creation. Despite herself, she giggled quietly when she saw the rhumba tights with the pink hearts.
Edward stood powerlessly in his dainty blue dress, wanting to recoil as each new garment was revealed. Everything felt so much more permanent now.
Before his Aunty left for the evening, she took great pleasure in making sure all his pretty new things were hung prominently in his bedroom closet or folded daintily in his dresser drawers. She moved through his room with pleased authority, opening drawers, shifting stacks, making little decisions in a tone that invited no discussion. Hairbows were laid in careful rows like prizes; lace anklets were paired and folded; panties and bralettes were tucked into his top drawer where his ordinary underwear had always been.
Aunt Patricia then cleaned out space for his new footwear, “Shoes do so much to finish a look.” The black Mary Janes were set side by side beneath the dresses, followed by the white summer pair, the ivory ballet flats, the T-strap sandals with silver buckles, the strappy white peep-toes with their tiny bowknots, the black penny loafers, and his glitter-pink “princess shoes.”
To his chagrin, most of his boys’ clothes were unceremoniously shoved into large garbage bags and stored in the guest room closet to “save space.” Tee shirts, shorts, old sneakers, and loose pajamas disappeared with a sad rustle of plastic. Aunt Patricia smiled all the while, saying how much neater and organized everything would be now, but Edward felt as though his room had been quietly conquered. His closet door now opened on a girlish new wardrobe of frilly dresses and darling shoes. Everything in his room seemed to retreat behind satin, lace, ribbons, and the steady certainty of Aunt Patricia’s voice.
10
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on September 20, 2026, 06:50:56 PM »
The Mask Briefly Slips
Before Edward could compose himself, Sabrina had already swept up the plaid school uniform and was heading toward the fitting room as though the matter had been settled for him. “Let’s go, sweetie,” she chided, “I know you’re going to make an adorable schoolgirl!” Skye ushered him along from behind with the bobby socks, penny loafers, and a matching plaid grosgrain hair bow in hand. Soon, Edward was eased out of his extravagant apricot and cream party dress amid a soft collapse of organza and petticoat. He felt less like someone being dressed and more like something being meticulously arranged.
A few minutes later, he stood buttoned into the crisp white blouse, very conscious of how cool and silky the fabric felt against his skin. The round Peter Pan collar buttoned neatly at his throat complete with a dainty, girlish red ribbon tie. The plaid jumper’s tidy pleats fell primly over the white bobby socks Skye had cuffed with careful little turns. The shiny black penny loafers on his feet and the grosgrain bow pinned into his curls completed his latest look. Looking in the mirror, Edward saw a prissy little schoolgirl on the first day of term: neat, obedient, and dainty.
Aunt Patricia wholeheartedly approved when she saw him in it. “There,” she said with a satisfied smile, smoothing one of the pleats, “Demure, modest, and sweet. Aunty knew this would suit you.” Her voice was honeyed, but there was an unmistakable note of firmness beneath it, the calm certainty of someone who was used to her wishes being obeyed.
Sabrina let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, he makes the cutest little schoolgirl,” she said proudly.
Skye nodded eagerly, eyes bright with mischief. “A proper little pupil,” she agreed.
It was at this point that Edward began trying to resist in tiny pieces, because resisting the whole thing seemed impossible. He was not even sure how many dresses his aunt had picked out for him by now, only that the pile seemed to have grown into a complete little life chosen for him without his input. It was obvious how intentionally she had selected everything: soft colors, dainty styles, ribbons, frills, shiny shoes, and little bows, all meant to echo the portrait at the center of all this activity. There was nothing accidental about any of it, and she was preparing to spend a small fortune on a complete wardrobe for him! Edward swallowed and lifted his eyes toward Aunt Patricia. “Uh, Aunty,” he began meekly. Then, for several seconds, he said nothing at all as he searched for the right words, painfully aware of the blouse buttoned against his throat, the bow in his hair, and Sabrina and Skye falling politely quiet without looking away.
“Yes, sweetheart?” she prodded cheerfully.
Edward could feel her waiting, and the words in his mind tangled themselves into knots. “Aunty,” he began again in a small voice, “I only mean… I know you’re trying to help, and everything is very… very nice, but maybe…” He faltered, cheeks burning, and his eyes dropped to the bobby socks folded neatly above his penny loafers. The little white cuffs made him feel absurdly juvenile and sissyish. The sight of them made his objection feel smaller, as though the dainty clothes themselves made him sound childish. “Maybe we don’t need quite so much,” he finished weakly, twisting his fingers together at his waist. Even to his own ears it sounded less like an objection than a somewhat whiny apology for having one.
The more he spoke, the more powerless he sounded. Dressed as he was, the whole effect was rather like a fussy little schoolgirl trying to wriggle out of a lesson. Sabrina’s mouth twitched as if she had to keep herself from smiling too broadly. Skye hastily averted her eyes, but Edward could see her amused grin.
Aunt Patricia received his objection with a light, almost amused patience, as if he were a stubborn child who didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” she said at once, with a brisk smile. “Don’t be so silly. Aunty has already thought this through for you.” She made it sound as though he was simply confused, and that his confusion only proved how helpless he was in such matters. “You needn’t trouble yourself over what is needed, or how much is enough. Those are Aunty’s decisions.” Her tone remained gentle, but there was steel underneath, and Edward heard the dismissal as well. His objection had simply been set aside as too childish to matter. Aunt Patricia’s will moved around him smoothly and surely.
Edward opened his mouth to speak again. “But… I mean… I don’t…”
Aunt Patricia gave a small shake of her head, dismissing the attempt before it became another sentence. This time there was a trace of frustration. “No, dear, I’ve already told you. We are not going to turn our lovely shopping trip into a debate.” Her voice remained pleasant, but her decision was absolute. “When Aunty has made up her mind about what is best, the thing you should do is accept it gracefully. Fussing and complaining is unseemly and unworthy of the portrait.” She glanced toward Sabrina and Skye with a composed smile, as though inviting them to witness how patiently she handled him. “I’m sorry he’s grumbling so in front of you girls. He still has much to learn about grace and manners.”
Sabrina gave a soft little laugh and nodded as if Aunt Patricia had said the most sensible thing in the world. Skye giggled and made another ever so slight adjustment to his Peter Pan collar with a quick touch.
Then, for a moment, Aunt Patricia’s tone grew a little sterner and more direct. It was as if a mask had slipped. “Sweetheart, don’t you understand by now that your Aunty is going to make sure you have the prettiest dresses a little girl could ever want?” She looked pointedly at her befrocked nephew, and he wilted under her penetrating gaze, suddenly conscious of how sissyish he felt. “You may have preferences about dresses and skirts and pretty little shoes, of course,” she continued, condescendingly generous, “but preferences are not the same thing as decisions.” Her smile returned, softer and somehow more final. “Today, Aunty is making the decisions. Your job is to stand prettily and be grateful.”
“Now, Edward,” she said, her smile tightening into something that expected obedience, “Won’t you do that for your Aunty?” She reached over and gently but firmly lifted his chin with two fingers until he was looking at her properly. The touch was light, almost tender, but it held him as surely as if she had taken his hands. “Instead of pouting, I think it’s well past time to tell your Aunty exactly how pleased you are with all your lovely new things. We show gratitude after receiving gifts, and we certainly do not embarrass the person who has gone to so much trouble for us.” Her thumb rested for one extra second beneath his chin while he stood bashfully in the darling little uniform, unable to look away. “Tell me clearly, darling, how much you appreciate all your pretty things. No mumbling.”
Edward cringed. Sabrina and Skye were watching this exchange intently, unable to hide their amusement, while Aunt Patricia kept him fixed with her penetrating gaze. The blouse collar felt suddenly tight. He felt small, bashful, and horribly visible, dressed in clothes chosen for him while everyone waited to hear the answer Aunt Patricia had already decided he would give. After a long moment, his shoulders sagged slightly in silent surrender. Aunt Patricia then tapped one of them lightly and smoothed the front of his jumper delicately, claiming the last word without needing to raise her voice.
“Of course, Aunty,” he stammered softly. Blushing, he reluctantly replied, “Thank you… for all my pretty new dresses. I’m very… grateful.” The words came out thin and obedient, and the humiliation of saying them in the prissy little uniform made his face burn all over again. He had meant to push back, but somehow he had ended up showing gratitude while dressed exactly as she wanted him.
Aunt Patricia brightened at once, as if he had finally recited the proper lines. “There now,” she said warmly, patting his cheek lightly. She looked at her sissified nephew with fond authority, “you will find everything is so much easier when you remember to trust your Aunty’s judgment, darling.”
Right away, Edward saw some softness return to her face, but the command behind it had not disappeared. Later, he tried to convince himself that the shift in her tone was only his imagination. Yet standing there in his plaid jumper, with Sabrina and Skye smiling nearby, it felt perfectly clear.
Before Edward could compose himself, Sabrina had already swept up the plaid school uniform and was heading toward the fitting room as though the matter had been settled for him. “Let’s go, sweetie,” she chided, “I know you’re going to make an adorable schoolgirl!” Skye ushered him along from behind with the bobby socks, penny loafers, and a matching plaid grosgrain hair bow in hand. Soon, Edward was eased out of his extravagant apricot and cream party dress amid a soft collapse of organza and petticoat. He felt less like someone being dressed and more like something being meticulously arranged.
A few minutes later, he stood buttoned into the crisp white blouse, very conscious of how cool and silky the fabric felt against his skin. The round Peter Pan collar buttoned neatly at his throat complete with a dainty, girlish red ribbon tie. The plaid jumper’s tidy pleats fell primly over the white bobby socks Skye had cuffed with careful little turns. The shiny black penny loafers on his feet and the grosgrain bow pinned into his curls completed his latest look. Looking in the mirror, Edward saw a prissy little schoolgirl on the first day of term: neat, obedient, and dainty.
Aunt Patricia wholeheartedly approved when she saw him in it. “There,” she said with a satisfied smile, smoothing one of the pleats, “Demure, modest, and sweet. Aunty knew this would suit you.” Her voice was honeyed, but there was an unmistakable note of firmness beneath it, the calm certainty of someone who was used to her wishes being obeyed.
Sabrina let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, he makes the cutest little schoolgirl,” she said proudly.
Skye nodded eagerly, eyes bright with mischief. “A proper little pupil,” she agreed.
It was at this point that Edward began trying to resist in tiny pieces, because resisting the whole thing seemed impossible. He was not even sure how many dresses his aunt had picked out for him by now, only that the pile seemed to have grown into a complete little life chosen for him without his input. It was obvious how intentionally she had selected everything: soft colors, dainty styles, ribbons, frills, shiny shoes, and little bows, all meant to echo the portrait at the center of all this activity. There was nothing accidental about any of it, and she was preparing to spend a small fortune on a complete wardrobe for him! Edward swallowed and lifted his eyes toward Aunt Patricia. “Uh, Aunty,” he began meekly. Then, for several seconds, he said nothing at all as he searched for the right words, painfully aware of the blouse buttoned against his throat, the bow in his hair, and Sabrina and Skye falling politely quiet without looking away.
“Yes, sweetheart?” she prodded cheerfully.
Edward could feel her waiting, and the words in his mind tangled themselves into knots. “Aunty,” he began again in a small voice, “I only mean… I know you’re trying to help, and everything is very… very nice, but maybe…” He faltered, cheeks burning, and his eyes dropped to the bobby socks folded neatly above his penny loafers. The little white cuffs made him feel absurdly juvenile and sissyish. The sight of them made his objection feel smaller, as though the dainty clothes themselves made him sound childish. “Maybe we don’t need quite so much,” he finished weakly, twisting his fingers together at his waist. Even to his own ears it sounded less like an objection than a somewhat whiny apology for having one.
The more he spoke, the more powerless he sounded. Dressed as he was, the whole effect was rather like a fussy little schoolgirl trying to wriggle out of a lesson. Sabrina’s mouth twitched as if she had to keep herself from smiling too broadly. Skye hastily averted her eyes, but Edward could see her amused grin.
Aunt Patricia received his objection with a light, almost amused patience, as if he were a stubborn child who didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” she said at once, with a brisk smile. “Don’t be so silly. Aunty has already thought this through for you.” She made it sound as though he was simply confused, and that his confusion only proved how helpless he was in such matters. “You needn’t trouble yourself over what is needed, or how much is enough. Those are Aunty’s decisions.” Her tone remained gentle, but there was steel underneath, and Edward heard the dismissal as well. His objection had simply been set aside as too childish to matter. Aunt Patricia’s will moved around him smoothly and surely.
Edward opened his mouth to speak again. “But… I mean… I don’t…”
Aunt Patricia gave a small shake of her head, dismissing the attempt before it became another sentence. This time there was a trace of frustration. “No, dear, I’ve already told you. We are not going to turn our lovely shopping trip into a debate.” Her voice remained pleasant, but her decision was absolute. “When Aunty has made up her mind about what is best, the thing you should do is accept it gracefully. Fussing and complaining is unseemly and unworthy of the portrait.” She glanced toward Sabrina and Skye with a composed smile, as though inviting them to witness how patiently she handled him. “I’m sorry he’s grumbling so in front of you girls. He still has much to learn about grace and manners.”
Sabrina gave a soft little laugh and nodded as if Aunt Patricia had said the most sensible thing in the world. Skye giggled and made another ever so slight adjustment to his Peter Pan collar with a quick touch.
Then, for a moment, Aunt Patricia’s tone grew a little sterner and more direct. It was as if a mask had slipped. “Sweetheart, don’t you understand by now that your Aunty is going to make sure you have the prettiest dresses a little girl could ever want?” She looked pointedly at her befrocked nephew, and he wilted under her penetrating gaze, suddenly conscious of how sissyish he felt. “You may have preferences about dresses and skirts and pretty little shoes, of course,” she continued, condescendingly generous, “but preferences are not the same thing as decisions.” Her smile returned, softer and somehow more final. “Today, Aunty is making the decisions. Your job is to stand prettily and be grateful.”
“Now, Edward,” she said, her smile tightening into something that expected obedience, “Won’t you do that for your Aunty?” She reached over and gently but firmly lifted his chin with two fingers until he was looking at her properly. The touch was light, almost tender, but it held him as surely as if she had taken his hands. “Instead of pouting, I think it’s well past time to tell your Aunty exactly how pleased you are with all your lovely new things. We show gratitude after receiving gifts, and we certainly do not embarrass the person who has gone to so much trouble for us.” Her thumb rested for one extra second beneath his chin while he stood bashfully in the darling little uniform, unable to look away. “Tell me clearly, darling, how much you appreciate all your pretty things. No mumbling.”
Edward cringed. Sabrina and Skye were watching this exchange intently, unable to hide their amusement, while Aunt Patricia kept him fixed with her penetrating gaze. The blouse collar felt suddenly tight. He felt small, bashful, and horribly visible, dressed in clothes chosen for him while everyone waited to hear the answer Aunt Patricia had already decided he would give. After a long moment, his shoulders sagged slightly in silent surrender. Aunt Patricia then tapped one of them lightly and smoothed the front of his jumper delicately, claiming the last word without needing to raise her voice.
“Of course, Aunty,” he stammered softly. Blushing, he reluctantly replied, “Thank you… for all my pretty new dresses. I’m very… grateful.” The words came out thin and obedient, and the humiliation of saying them in the prissy little uniform made his face burn all over again. He had meant to push back, but somehow he had ended up showing gratitude while dressed exactly as she wanted him.
Aunt Patricia brightened at once, as if he had finally recited the proper lines. “There now,” she said warmly, patting his cheek lightly. She looked at her sissified nephew with fond authority, “you will find everything is so much easier when you remember to trust your Aunty’s judgment, darling.”
Right away, Edward saw some softness return to her face, but the command behind it had not disappeared. Later, he tried to convince himself that the shift in her tone was only his imagination. Yet standing there in his plaid jumper, with Sabrina and Skye smiling nearby, it felt perfectly clear.
The more you give, the more I can give back.
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