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Active Sissy Stories / Re: Peter was a petty criminal
« Last post by Howarth66 on Today at 10:45:44 AM »
As Peter and Clare worked on their crotches became itchy with being wet and damp, they could not stop themselves from rubbing them. They also rubbed their bottoms unfortunately their dirty hand from shovelling manure meant that their yellow jodhpurs had dirty manure marks around Clare and Peter crotches and bottom where their incontinence padding was in the special knickers. At that moment Baroness Silly de Filly turned up she said well girls looks like you have been working hard my your Jodhpurs do look very dirty know I am going to check whether you have wet yourselves she un locked Peters rear zip unzipped the blouse and the put her hand down Peter Jodphurs and into his special knickers well they are very wet and damp looks from your Jodhpurs that your pussy has become very itchy I give you something to itch about she took a small packet and emptied it into Peters incontinence pants she did the same procedure to Clare. Baroness then said after zipping the girls blouse and securing it so the girls could not get in to their Jodhpurs the packet contained itching powder this should keep you busy but I still need you to move all this horse manure unless you want to be spanked. As Peter and Clare continued to work the itchy feeling got worse and eventually the rubbed their crotches in a frenzy to the extent that they started to get turned on by all the rubbing even through their hairy vaginas felt like they were of fire they were both making moaning noise though there gags then suddenly Peter felt the urge to do a number two he ran to the nearest toilet at the same time Clare needed a poo. They both entered the toilets Peter and Clare tried to pull down their jodhpurs in desperation even though it was impossible then Clare tried to help Peter pull his Jodhpurs down but to no avail Peter desperately tied to help Clare then Clare let out a loud fart type noise her face went red as she shits herself moment later the same thing happened to Peter. Both of them burst in to tears the only saving grace was Peter and Clare did not smell as if they had popped themselves in their special knicker as the smell of the horse manure masked their dirty knickers. They left the toilets gingerly as not to spread the poo in their knickers as they got back to work it felt very uncomfortable but they were able to continue to shovel the manure Baroness Silly de Filly came over again she could she from the way Peter and Clare that they had shit their knickers than she had a wicked idea she walk over to Peter and gave him a Hugh slap on his bottom which meant that the poo in his knicker spread like butter she did the same to Clare say well done keep up the good work and I will give you and hours riding lesson if you fail you will get spanked and stay in your riding gear all night without a change of your knickers. Clare and Peter doubled their efforts to clear all the manure they found it really uncomfortable with their special knicker soiled but they worked hard and completed the task. So, when Baroness silly de filly came back, she was happy well-done girls know I will give you a riding lesson I think we will change your jodhpurs and top so you look good for riding. Peter said please Baroness will you change are special knickers as they are really dirty “I don’t think so poppet that is done later you should not have messed your knickers” she laughed should make for an interesting ride ladies. Peter and Clare where lead away to get changed ready for riding when they came back twenty minutes later, they were dressed immaculately in clean bright canary yellow jodhpurs nice cream blouse with a pony club tie. Baroness silly de filly asked the nursery maids the ladies that had change Clare and Peter were the jodhpur and Blouse sewn in like the riding gear they wore to muck out. The maids said yes, we don’t Want the girls taking there cloths off without permission quite right said the Baroness.
Clare and Peter joined the Baroness she removes their ball gags so they were able to speak although the mental alteration to Peter and Clare meant it was quite immature. Right girls let us have a drink first the maids provided very large steins of beer a litre each Peter, Clare and the Baroness started to drink. They soon finished them and they were replaced by another beer after to large beers Clare and Peter were feeling a little light headed the Baroness went to the ladies to relieve herself them came back the group walked over to the stables were Peter and Clare mounted two ponies and were led to the arena. Peter looked at himself he was dress immaculately although he considered himself to be a he the fact he had a vagina and breast meaning he was a she he clearly could see he was a sexy young girl ready for a riding lesson except for his special incontinence knickers underneath his jodhpurs. Although he looks immaculate, he was very uncomfortable in his wet and dirty knickers add to this was the fact that the beer he had drunk was now making him want to go to the toilet again.
Peter and Clare mounted their ponies for the lesson it was very uncomfortable as their wet special knickers made their crotches itchy and sore. The baroness started the lesson with Peter and Clare doing the rising trout which means bouncing up and down whilst riding meaning every time they came back down in the saddle their messy knickers became more and more uncomfortable. At the end of the lesson Clare and Peter had very sore crotches and their plastic pants had leaked a little so their jodhpurs had wet patches around their crotches and bottoms. Baroness Silly de Filly said I think you girls need to change your underwear I will get the maids to change you before you go back home to Lady forester and Judge Strickland. Both Peter and Clare were led a way to the changing rooms by the maids. They were unlocked out of their blouses and jodhpur’s down to their special underwear and bra’s. The maids took off the very dirty special knicker and put them in a nappy cleaning bin and said right girls I think it back to diapers for you two as you cannot keep your training pantie clean. Peter and Clare tried to protest but again that came out of their mouth was baby babble. Both Peter and Clare were was in the showers by the maids they were cleaned then lead to a changing table where they were pinned into thick double terry diapers then a pair of cream lockable rubber knickers was put on them and locked in place. A thick pair of grey ribbed woolly pantyhose were put on them. Next came and old-fashioned Playtex bra the style old laddies wear it was put in place and strapped on. Next came a velvet navy smock dress with a cream loke lace collar both of them had identical dresses the hem came down to midway above the knee. The maids fitted shoes women’s tan loafers on them. Next the maid put on some old-fashioned xl pink nylon knickers the sort from the 1960’s the maids worked them up Peter and Clares legs and stretched them over the bulk of the diapers and tights Peter thought they would have fitted perfectly except the bulk of the diapers showed to anyone who manged to look at their knickers that they were heavily diapered. Peter and Clare were led towards the rolls Royce however every time they moved, they could hear the rustling and crinkling of their plastic knickers the noise that traditionally diapered children make when running around. Both Peter and Clare went slightly red with embarrassment.
Clare and Peter joined the Baroness she removes their ball gags so they were able to speak although the mental alteration to Peter and Clare meant it was quite immature. Right girls let us have a drink first the maids provided very large steins of beer a litre each Peter, Clare and the Baroness started to drink. They soon finished them and they were replaced by another beer after to large beers Clare and Peter were feeling a little light headed the Baroness went to the ladies to relieve herself them came back the group walked over to the stables were Peter and Clare mounted two ponies and were led to the arena. Peter looked at himself he was dress immaculately although he considered himself to be a he the fact he had a vagina and breast meaning he was a she he clearly could see he was a sexy young girl ready for a riding lesson except for his special incontinence knickers underneath his jodhpurs. Although he looks immaculate, he was very uncomfortable in his wet and dirty knickers add to this was the fact that the beer he had drunk was now making him want to go to the toilet again.
Peter and Clare mounted their ponies for the lesson it was very uncomfortable as their wet special knickers made their crotches itchy and sore. The baroness started the lesson with Peter and Clare doing the rising trout which means bouncing up and down whilst riding meaning every time they came back down in the saddle their messy knickers became more and more uncomfortable. At the end of the lesson Clare and Peter had very sore crotches and their plastic pants had leaked a little so their jodhpurs had wet patches around their crotches and bottoms. Baroness Silly de Filly said I think you girls need to change your underwear I will get the maids to change you before you go back home to Lady forester and Judge Strickland. Both Peter and Clare were led a way to the changing rooms by the maids. They were unlocked out of their blouses and jodhpur’s down to their special underwear and bra’s. The maids took off the very dirty special knicker and put them in a nappy cleaning bin and said right girls I think it back to diapers for you two as you cannot keep your training pantie clean. Peter and Clare tried to protest but again that came out of their mouth was baby babble. Both Peter and Clare were was in the showers by the maids they were cleaned then lead to a changing table where they were pinned into thick double terry diapers then a pair of cream lockable rubber knickers was put on them and locked in place. A thick pair of grey ribbed woolly pantyhose were put on them. Next came and old-fashioned Playtex bra the style old laddies wear it was put in place and strapped on. Next came a velvet navy smock dress with a cream loke lace collar both of them had identical dresses the hem came down to midway above the knee. The maids fitted shoes women’s tan loafers on them. Next the maid put on some old-fashioned xl pink nylon knickers the sort from the 1960’s the maids worked them up Peter and Clares legs and stretched them over the bulk of the diapers and tights Peter thought they would have fitted perfectly except the bulk of the diapers showed to anyone who manged to look at their knickers that they were heavily diapered. Peter and Clare were led towards the rolls Royce however every time they moved, they could hear the rustling and crinkling of their plastic knickers the noise that traditionally diapered children make when running around. Both Peter and Clare went slightly red with embarrassment.
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Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by sissy servant 737-820-633 on October 20, 2026, 12:12:40 PM »
loving this story and the photos as well.. very easy to put myself in the storyline.. thank you for writing and posting photos..
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Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by ace on October 19, 2026, 07:51:42 PM »
Oh wow Simon, they just keep coming, great job! Imagine having to do housework in that outfit ... it's bad enough doing it in a light cotton maids outfit, but that one takes the biscuit.
Keep up the good work pal.
Ace
Keep up the good work pal.
Ace
4
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on October 19, 2026, 03:55:52 AM »
Chapter 403.
Tim didn’t pay much attention. Another day, another outfit. Besides, his head was too full of the revelations of the day. He lay awake for over an hour in a state of nervous vacillation. It was quite against his nature, wasn’t it? He was super-protective of his boyhood. All right, maybe a bit less than he’d been before. After all, he’d felt quite happy today as “Penny’s Popsi”, hadn’t he? He frowned. Yes, he had. Was he…turning into a sissy? He laughed. Of course not! He simply possessed a laudable versatility. Let’s face it, that’s why everyone admired him so much. Yes. He was quite something, all right. He was getting quite a reputation. Now, if he could pull off being a femboy… And those outfits! He shivered. There was something compelling about the thought of those dresses. He reached for his phone and scrolled through the pictures Maria had sent. Yes… Caroline…and Rochelle. Amazing quality, and those layered skirts, all crisp and bouncy! He was trembling slightly. Why not? If he didn’t like it, then… Well, he could always opt out. Couldn’t he?
He fell into a troubled slumber, beset by lurid dreams. He woke early, in an aroused state, and took his shower cooler than usual. When he returned to the bedroom, he found a new pile of clothes waiting for him on the bed. Frieda called up.
“Get dressed and come down, Tim. As quickly as you can. You’ve got a busy day ahead.”
He picked over his new outfit. So this was what a houseboy wore. Oh, no… Another hood? Well he wasn’t putting that on till after breakfast… In fact, he was going to need help with all of this…
He no longer questioned his clothes or his duties. He was becoming absorbed into the world of boy maids, boy pages, boy servants - into the world of ESDS. Playing roles – no, becoming them - had itself become normality, as had obeying instructions. He still thought of himself as having options, and even dared to voice the occasional ineffectual protest if there was something he didn’t want to do, but he would never now even think of refusing. He knew he was at the bottom of the hierarchy and all he really wanted to do, apart from showing off and attracting as much attention as possible, was to please his superiors, to be praised by them. It was a training technique the company had used to exploit all their subjects: recruit those young and impressionable enough, bombard them with compliments and cool outfits, and feed their vanity until they were docile, tractable, and compliant.
They let him eat, and then got him into his new uniform. Strappy pink latex top and hood, skimpy red latex pants, matching gloves and bootees, and a nice red leather buckled collar.
“There. Perfect!” exclaimed Connie with delight. “Miss Carter will be so impressed.”
Tim frowned. “Miss who?”
“Miss Carter, Tim. You’ll meet her this afternoon. She always has houseboys. She wants to check you out. If you perform well she’ll probably hire you for a week sometime. Be very respectful. She’s a very valued client.”
Tim grunted. He wasn’t happy.
“This morning you’ll work for us, and we’ll give you such training as we can in the short time available. Pick up your bucket and mop, and I’ll show you your duties. Chop chop!”
Tim didn’t pay much attention. Another day, another outfit. Besides, his head was too full of the revelations of the day. He lay awake for over an hour in a state of nervous vacillation. It was quite against his nature, wasn’t it? He was super-protective of his boyhood. All right, maybe a bit less than he’d been before. After all, he’d felt quite happy today as “Penny’s Popsi”, hadn’t he? He frowned. Yes, he had. Was he…turning into a sissy? He laughed. Of course not! He simply possessed a laudable versatility. Let’s face it, that’s why everyone admired him so much. Yes. He was quite something, all right. He was getting quite a reputation. Now, if he could pull off being a femboy… And those outfits! He shivered. There was something compelling about the thought of those dresses. He reached for his phone and scrolled through the pictures Maria had sent. Yes… Caroline…and Rochelle. Amazing quality, and those layered skirts, all crisp and bouncy! He was trembling slightly. Why not? If he didn’t like it, then… Well, he could always opt out. Couldn’t he?
He fell into a troubled slumber, beset by lurid dreams. He woke early, in an aroused state, and took his shower cooler than usual. When he returned to the bedroom, he found a new pile of clothes waiting for him on the bed. Frieda called up.
“Get dressed and come down, Tim. As quickly as you can. You’ve got a busy day ahead.”
He picked over his new outfit. So this was what a houseboy wore. Oh, no… Another hood? Well he wasn’t putting that on till after breakfast… In fact, he was going to need help with all of this…
He no longer questioned his clothes or his duties. He was becoming absorbed into the world of boy maids, boy pages, boy servants - into the world of ESDS. Playing roles – no, becoming them - had itself become normality, as had obeying instructions. He still thought of himself as having options, and even dared to voice the occasional ineffectual protest if there was something he didn’t want to do, but he would never now even think of refusing. He knew he was at the bottom of the hierarchy and all he really wanted to do, apart from showing off and attracting as much attention as possible, was to please his superiors, to be praised by them. It was a training technique the company had used to exploit all their subjects: recruit those young and impressionable enough, bombard them with compliments and cool outfits, and feed their vanity until they were docile, tractable, and compliant.
They let him eat, and then got him into his new uniform. Strappy pink latex top and hood, skimpy red latex pants, matching gloves and bootees, and a nice red leather buckled collar.
“There. Perfect!” exclaimed Connie with delight. “Miss Carter will be so impressed.”
Tim frowned. “Miss who?”
“Miss Carter, Tim. You’ll meet her this afternoon. She always has houseboys. She wants to check you out. If you perform well she’ll probably hire you for a week sometime. Be very respectful. She’s a very valued client.”
Tim grunted. He wasn’t happy.
“This morning you’ll work for us, and we’ll give you such training as we can in the short time available. Pick up your bucket and mop, and I’ll show you your duties. Chop chop!”
5
Active Sissy Stories / Re: His Aunt Nicole
« Last post by Simonssister on October 18, 2026, 12:02:49 PM »
Chapter 402.
Connie beckoned Tim over to a table, and pulled out a chair for him.
“Have a seat, Tim. You must be exhausted…by all your hard work.”
The ladies seated themselves. Maria brought the coffees.
“Would everyone like some cakes?”
Tim nodded vigorously. He was always hungry after an orgasm, and now he was starving.
“Take that as a yes, Maria,” grinned Connie. “So Tim, do you like working at auntie Maria’s?”
He blushed, and nodded again.
“Frieda, can you take off his gag? Here’s the key. We could torture him by making him watch us scoff all Maria’s lovely pastries, but I think he deserves a little reward, don’t you?”
Frieda rose and went behind Tim’s chair. She unlocked the tiny padlock securing the buckle, and gently removed the strap and ball-gag from his head. He drew a deep breath.
“Better?” asked Bridget.
“Yes… Thank you, miss…”
“So… Did you like working at Penny’s?”
“Yes… I liked serving and being inside…”
“Oh. Not so keen on being in the street, then.”
“Not really, miss…”
Maria put a plate of pastries on the table and sat down.
“I hope you’ll be allowed to waitress for me again, Tim. Normally this is a very dull tea-shop. But when you were here, it was so lively. Everyone was talking to each other, being sociable. I’d love to have you back.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” said Connie. “I’ll talk to Cassandra. But I’m intrigued to know… What did you two talk about while you were showing him the stockroom?”
It was Maria’s turn to blush. “Oh, I…you know, we just sort of… I told him about how I used to work for ESDS…”
“Oh, yes. That must have been very interesting. What did she say, Tim?”
Tim was unsure whether Maria would want him to talk about it. But his imagination was still full of the photos he’d been shown. He took the plunge.
“Actually she told me about how she made boys into femboys. I even saw some of them. It was amazing.”
“Oh! She did tell you, then. And what did you think?”
“I couldn’t believe how pretty – no, beautiful – they looked. Even more than my friend Teri.”
“Oh, yes. I know Teri. He’s very cute.”
“He is. It’s a strange feeling, looking at a girl, but knowing she’s really a boy…”
“Yes. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Fascinating. That’s exactly it…”
“I told him he’s easily cute enough… If he wanted to…”
“And do you, Tim?”
Tim became flustered. “No… I mean, I wouldn’t be pretty enough… I’m too masculine…”
“Nonsense! You’d be perfect! I’m sure Cassandra would jump at the idea. I mean if you don’t want to, she wouldn’t force you…”
Tim was reddening, and looking confused. He would never have considered such a thing before. But those femboys… So attractive! Everyone would be staring at them everywhere they went…
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I’m not sure… Really I think I’m best as a pageboy…”
Connie laughed. “Oh, you soppy thing! You just like showing off in your little hotpants, don’t you? I know you’re gagging to get back in your uniform and crash another wedding or party. But there’s more than one way of being a hit.”
“In any case,” added Frieda, “as a femboy you could wear girly hot pants, if you wanted. Extra-frilly, with ribbons and hearts and things…”
“That’s true,” added Bridget. “You’d have to change the colour, that’s all. Pretty pink, with matching gloves.”
“Really? I’m not sure…”
But just thinking about it was making Tim excited. Would that really work? Could he get to wear his favourite hot pants and still present as a beautiful girl? He flushed, and looked down. No, he’d look like a sissy… Maria put a hand on his knee.
“Imagine, Tim… Little soft pink latex hot pants, with tiny red bows down the seams, and maybe a big red heart right at the front… You’d be such a pretty femboy. Just as cool as those ones I showed you…”
He took a deep breath, and bit his lip.
“Then at the next wedding, Tim, you could be a pagegirl,” exclaimed Connie. “The bridesmaids would love you! You’d be their idol! They’d be so jealous, of course… They’d have to wear those stuffy old traditional tulle dresses, and there you’d be in this amazing cool hot pants outfit.”
She was right! Yes, they would be jealous. He’d totally steal the show! It was very tempting. What was it that Maria had said? Yes. “A good femboy appeals to everyone.” He tried to imagine what it might be like. In his mind’s eye he saw himself posing, surrounded by the bridesmaids, all dying of jealousy…though perhaps they looked more amused than jealous… But no matter! They weren’t important. It was the women he would impress, just like at Debbie’s wedding. He must have posed for more than a hundred photos. Even videos. Now, as a femboy page…
“I bet you’d be mobbed,” laughed Frieda. She seemed to have read his mind.
Bridget was certain he’d be a success. “You should definitely try it, Tim. Let Connie ask Cassandra. Maria? If he did decide, would you be prepared to…?”
“I’d love to help, if he wanted…”
“There Tim. We’re all on your side. No pressure. Sleep on it. Tomorrow we want to give you a taste of the other end of the spectrum.
“The other end…?”
“You’re going to be a houseboy. The lowest status in the household. Don’t look so surprised. It’s all part of your training. And we might even farm you out for a few hours…”
Connie beckoned Tim over to a table, and pulled out a chair for him.
“Have a seat, Tim. You must be exhausted…by all your hard work.”
The ladies seated themselves. Maria brought the coffees.
“Would everyone like some cakes?”
Tim nodded vigorously. He was always hungry after an orgasm, and now he was starving.
“Take that as a yes, Maria,” grinned Connie. “So Tim, do you like working at auntie Maria’s?”
He blushed, and nodded again.
“Frieda, can you take off his gag? Here’s the key. We could torture him by making him watch us scoff all Maria’s lovely pastries, but I think he deserves a little reward, don’t you?”
Frieda rose and went behind Tim’s chair. She unlocked the tiny padlock securing the buckle, and gently removed the strap and ball-gag from his head. He drew a deep breath.
“Better?” asked Bridget.
“Yes… Thank you, miss…”
“So… Did you like working at Penny’s?”
“Yes… I liked serving and being inside…”
“Oh. Not so keen on being in the street, then.”
“Not really, miss…”
Maria put a plate of pastries on the table and sat down.
“I hope you’ll be allowed to waitress for me again, Tim. Normally this is a very dull tea-shop. But when you were here, it was so lively. Everyone was talking to each other, being sociable. I’d love to have you back.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” said Connie. “I’ll talk to Cassandra. But I’m intrigued to know… What did you two talk about while you were showing him the stockroom?”
It was Maria’s turn to blush. “Oh, I…you know, we just sort of… I told him about how I used to work for ESDS…”
“Oh, yes. That must have been very interesting. What did she say, Tim?”
Tim was unsure whether Maria would want him to talk about it. But his imagination was still full of the photos he’d been shown. He took the plunge.
“Actually she told me about how she made boys into femboys. I even saw some of them. It was amazing.”
“Oh! She did tell you, then. And what did you think?”
“I couldn’t believe how pretty – no, beautiful – they looked. Even more than my friend Teri.”
“Oh, yes. I know Teri. He’s very cute.”
“He is. It’s a strange feeling, looking at a girl, but knowing she’s really a boy…”
“Yes. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Fascinating. That’s exactly it…”
“I told him he’s easily cute enough… If he wanted to…”
“And do you, Tim?”
Tim became flustered. “No… I mean, I wouldn’t be pretty enough… I’m too masculine…”
“Nonsense! You’d be perfect! I’m sure Cassandra would jump at the idea. I mean if you don’t want to, she wouldn’t force you…”
Tim was reddening, and looking confused. He would never have considered such a thing before. But those femboys… So attractive! Everyone would be staring at them everywhere they went…
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I’m not sure… Really I think I’m best as a pageboy…”
Connie laughed. “Oh, you soppy thing! You just like showing off in your little hotpants, don’t you? I know you’re gagging to get back in your uniform and crash another wedding or party. But there’s more than one way of being a hit.”
“In any case,” added Frieda, “as a femboy you could wear girly hot pants, if you wanted. Extra-frilly, with ribbons and hearts and things…”
“That’s true,” added Bridget. “You’d have to change the colour, that’s all. Pretty pink, with matching gloves.”
“Really? I’m not sure…”
But just thinking about it was making Tim excited. Would that really work? Could he get to wear his favourite hot pants and still present as a beautiful girl? He flushed, and looked down. No, he’d look like a sissy… Maria put a hand on his knee.
“Imagine, Tim… Little soft pink latex hot pants, with tiny red bows down the seams, and maybe a big red heart right at the front… You’d be such a pretty femboy. Just as cool as those ones I showed you…”
He took a deep breath, and bit his lip.
“Then at the next wedding, Tim, you could be a pagegirl,” exclaimed Connie. “The bridesmaids would love you! You’d be their idol! They’d be so jealous, of course… They’d have to wear those stuffy old traditional tulle dresses, and there you’d be in this amazing cool hot pants outfit.”
She was right! Yes, they would be jealous. He’d totally steal the show! It was very tempting. What was it that Maria had said? Yes. “A good femboy appeals to everyone.” He tried to imagine what it might be like. In his mind’s eye he saw himself posing, surrounded by the bridesmaids, all dying of jealousy…though perhaps they looked more amused than jealous… But no matter! They weren’t important. It was the women he would impress, just like at Debbie’s wedding. He must have posed for more than a hundred photos. Even videos. Now, as a femboy page…
“I bet you’d be mobbed,” laughed Frieda. She seemed to have read his mind.
Bridget was certain he’d be a success. “You should definitely try it, Tim. Let Connie ask Cassandra. Maria? If he did decide, would you be prepared to…?”
“I’d love to help, if he wanted…”
“There Tim. We’re all on your side. No pressure. Sleep on it. Tomorrow we want to give you a taste of the other end of the spectrum.
“The other end…?”
“You’re going to be a houseboy. The lowest status in the household. Don’t look so surprised. It’s all part of your training. And we might even farm you out for a few hours…”
6
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by babycakes on October 12, 2026, 03:24:49 PM »
Despite the excellent writing, having a little trouble with the timidness of Edward and his mother. They have so little respect for themselves that it's a wonder they have any spine with which to remain upright. Even accepting their dependence on Patricia there has to be some level of abuse that triggers mother and Edward to tell her to stick her "generosity" where the sun don't shine! It's impossible to feel any empathy for individuals who have no respect for themselves. And the fault lies primarily with Marian. Would love to see some real conflict at this stage of the tale.
Otherwise your writing is clear and purposeful with the right balance of detail when it comes to clothing descriptions, which many authors seem to treat incompletely. In the same regard, the pictures are amazing, they're worth at least a thousand words, each! Thanks again for all your hard work and dedication to finishing the story. Will continue to look forward to future installments.
Otherwise your writing is clear and purposeful with the right balance of detail when it comes to clothing descriptions, which many authors seem to treat incompletely. In the same regard, the pictures are amazing, they're worth at least a thousand words, each! Thanks again for all your hard work and dedication to finishing the story. Will continue to look forward to future installments.
7
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by Dancer4Fun on October 12, 2026, 03:21:09 PM »
I have just court up with the last few chapters and really love how poor Edward is slowly being made over into a proper young lady and not just a modern girl for his portrait sittings.
Poor Edward, more and more of his summer holidays are going to be taken over by the portrait.
Deportment lesson, one wonders, will they be private or will he be in a class with girls?
Will he and his Aunty Patricia run in to Lily again, will Aunty Patricia invite her to have afternoon tea with Edward so Lily can check out Edwards new wardrobe?
What else will Aubty Patricia think of to help Edward become more like a proper young lady for the sake of his portrait sittings?
Please continue with Edwards re-education as I know his Aunty Patricia must find fulfillment in her endeavours.
Your other readers and myself just love how Edward is slowly becoming what we all wished for when we were of Edwards age, however it is your story to tell and we appreciate your telling of it.
Poor Edward, more and more of his summer holidays are going to be taken over by the portrait.
Deportment lesson, one wonders, will they be private or will he be in a class with girls?
Will he and his Aunty Patricia run in to Lily again, will Aunty Patricia invite her to have afternoon tea with Edward so Lily can check out Edwards new wardrobe?
What else will Aubty Patricia think of to help Edward become more like a proper young lady for the sake of his portrait sittings?
Please continue with Edwards re-education as I know his Aunty Patricia must find fulfillment in her endeavours.
Your other readers and myself just love how Edward is slowly becoming what we all wished for when we were of Edwards age, however it is your story to tell and we appreciate your telling of it.
8
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 10, 2026, 06:54:27 PM »
The Price of Aunty's Help
“Etiquette and deportment lessons!” Aunt Patricia announced triumphantly, as though unveiling a coveted prize. Her eyes swept once more over Edward’s grungy tee shirt and cargo shorts. Her expression took on a firmer edge. “Seeing you now has only confirmed how helpful they will be, my dear.”
Then, she turned to her sister with a measured smile, “All in all, I am actually rather grateful I arrived early to see him like this, Marian. Now I know exactly where the difficulty lies. Edward needs to more fully embrace the feminine spirit of his great-great grandmother.” She gave a pleased little chuckle. “Fortunately, that is something I am sure we can correct.”
“I have been thinking for several days now about Edward’s posture, his walk, and all his nervous little mannerisms,” she began, “it just seemed to me they have been holding him back.” Aunt Patricia then beamed, as though the answer had been staring her in the face all along. “It came to me all at once. Of course Edward never learned how to move daintily as a girl does… boys simply aren’t taught such things. He can hardly be expected to carry himself correctly unless someone teaches him!” She explained, “So last night I contacted a local instructor, Miss Alcott, who has excellent references. By every account, she is disciplined, precise and thoroughly dependable.” Aunt Patricia’s grin broadened. “She replied first thing this morning, and we have already spoken about his deportment lessons.”
Edward saw his mother’s jaw tighten, but she didn’t say anything. Edward’s spirits collapsed. While Aunt Patricia seemed energized by her plan, he felt it closing around him as surely as the corset hanging in his closet. It was becoming clear that his aunt viewed any traces of boyishness he displayed as "problems" that needed correction instead of the natural order of things. He winced before he could stop himself. “Lessons, Aunty?” he repeated faintly. “For walking and sitting?” The thought made his stomach tighten.
“Deportment lessons, darling,” Aunt Patricia corrected brightly, savoring the word. “It is such an elegant term, and it is precisely what you need.” She continued with almost gleeful certainty, “Miss Alcott will teach you grace, posture and demeanor. Her eyes shone at the prospect. “As I am certain you understand by now, the portrait must be more than a costume. You must learn to carry the part from the inside out.” With a pleased look, Aunt Patricia said, “It’s for the best, sweetheart. You’ll see.”
After a pause, his mother finally dared to speak up. “Patricia, Edward already has the portrait sittings, his piano lessons and the other appointments…” Her voice faded. She pressed her fingertips together and tried again. “It seems like rather a lot, that’s all I mean.”
Aunt Patricia turned back to her sister, “Oh, Marian, please. If it’s the expense that troubles you, I will of course see to it. It’s hardly worth discussing.” Her smile remained pleasant, but her voice had an impatient edge now. “It will only be a few hours each week, and it will support the portrait beautifully. Miss Vale is trying to paint refinement, not merely resemblance. Once Edward learns how to stand, sit, walk, lower his hands gracefully, and perform a proper curtsy, the whole likeness will finally settle into place.” She glanced at him with unmistakable satisfaction, as though she could already see the finished result.
Edward suppressed another groan. Even the placement of his hands was apparently about to become a subject of instruction.
“Don’t my hands lower properly now, Aunt Patricia?” he ventured timidly, suddenly conscious of where they were and how awkwardly they seemed to hang.
“I was speaking to your mother, dear, and that interruption is only further proof that some proper etiquette training will do you a world of good,” she said with brisk satisfaction. “But to answer your question, you plop your hands down like a careless boy, without the least thought for presentation. Miss Alcott will correct that. She will teach you where to place them and how to move them.” Her smile turned almost radiant at the thought. “And try to remember it’s ‘Aunty,’ dear.”
His mother looked tense. “Patricia, are you sure…?” Her voice trailed off. Aunt Patricia’s triumphant manner made it already seem decided. His mother seemed to have forgotten how to fully question anything her sister suggested.
Even so, Aunt Patricia’s pleasant expression cooled by a degree. It seemed she was at the end of her patience.
She exhaled deliberately, and her tone seemed to change. The air in the room grew more tense. “Marian,” she said very evenly, “I do hope you have not begun to feel overburdened by my involvement in your affairs. If my little efforts on behalf of you and Edward have become inconvenient, perhaps I should rethink them. I only mean to be helpful.”
She continued, “After all, if the little gifts, the small necessities attended to here and there… if these things are not welcome… perhaps I should just step back. I would never wish my help to make you uncomfortable.”
Edward gulped, and his mother blanched. Aunt Patricia seemed to be moving toward an ominous point. His aunt continued, her gaze dropping pointedly to Edward’s shorts and tee shirt as if they were muddy footprints on a clean carpet, “We took such great pains yesterday getting Edward a delightful new wardrobe, but yet this morning I find him still dressed like that.” Her voice remained smooth, but it had thinned into something cold at the edges. “Really, Marian,” she said with a trace of annoyance, “after all the trouble and expense we went to at Morgan & Tate’s, it is most discouraging.”
Edward’s face went hot. The way she spoke made his shorts and tee shirt feel shameful. Her words seemed to hang frozen. Edward realized suddenly that she was making a broader point. Until that instant, his aunt’s overbearing generosity had been uncomfortable to him mainly because it was smothering. Now he began to understand the portrait, the dresses and all the appointments reached deeper than that. Without saying it directly, she was reminding his mother that she kept them afloat in many other unspoken ways. His stomach gave a sick little drop. He realized that every reluctant “Yes, Aunty” on his part had become part of an unspoken price for that generosity.
His mother obviously understood it as well. She glanced meekly at Edward, then quickly away, as though ashamed that he had witnessed the exchange. “Oh, Patricia, no!” she said at once, her voice soft and anxious. “You have been so very kind to us. More than kind. I know how much trouble you take, and of course we appreciate it.” She searched Aunt Patricia’s face for some sign that she had repaired the offense, “I don’t know what we would do without you.” Her voice dropped still further. “I know you only want to help, and I’m so sorry I made it sound otherwise.” Marian swallowed and hurried on, “Please, Patricia, if you believe these deportment lessons are needed, then of course you are right.” She gave a small, pleading nod. “You understand these things so much better than I do, and Edward is grateful for the opportunity—aren’t you, sweetheart?” Her eyes flicked toward him with a strained appeal before returning to Patricia. “We are both thankful for everything you do.”
Edward felt the meaning of his mother’s words before he could fully process them. In addition to everything else, he would now have deportment lessons, and he would be grateful for them. Only minutes before, the familiar weight of his cargo shorts and the softness of the old shirt had made him feel briefly restored. Now, they hung on him like evidence of a failed escape. Whatever freedom he thought he had clawed back that morning now lay in ruins.
“Etiquette and deportment lessons!” Aunt Patricia announced triumphantly, as though unveiling a coveted prize. Her eyes swept once more over Edward’s grungy tee shirt and cargo shorts. Her expression took on a firmer edge. “Seeing you now has only confirmed how helpful they will be, my dear.”
Then, she turned to her sister with a measured smile, “All in all, I am actually rather grateful I arrived early to see him like this, Marian. Now I know exactly where the difficulty lies. Edward needs to more fully embrace the feminine spirit of his great-great grandmother.” She gave a pleased little chuckle. “Fortunately, that is something I am sure we can correct.”
“I have been thinking for several days now about Edward’s posture, his walk, and all his nervous little mannerisms,” she began, “it just seemed to me they have been holding him back.” Aunt Patricia then beamed, as though the answer had been staring her in the face all along. “It came to me all at once. Of course Edward never learned how to move daintily as a girl does… boys simply aren’t taught such things. He can hardly be expected to carry himself correctly unless someone teaches him!” She explained, “So last night I contacted a local instructor, Miss Alcott, who has excellent references. By every account, she is disciplined, precise and thoroughly dependable.” Aunt Patricia’s grin broadened. “She replied first thing this morning, and we have already spoken about his deportment lessons.”
Edward saw his mother’s jaw tighten, but she didn’t say anything. Edward’s spirits collapsed. While Aunt Patricia seemed energized by her plan, he felt it closing around him as surely as the corset hanging in his closet. It was becoming clear that his aunt viewed any traces of boyishness he displayed as "problems" that needed correction instead of the natural order of things. He winced before he could stop himself. “Lessons, Aunty?” he repeated faintly. “For walking and sitting?” The thought made his stomach tighten.
“Deportment lessons, darling,” Aunt Patricia corrected brightly, savoring the word. “It is such an elegant term, and it is precisely what you need.” She continued with almost gleeful certainty, “Miss Alcott will teach you grace, posture and demeanor. Her eyes shone at the prospect. “As I am certain you understand by now, the portrait must be more than a costume. You must learn to carry the part from the inside out.” With a pleased look, Aunt Patricia said, “It’s for the best, sweetheart. You’ll see.”
After a pause, his mother finally dared to speak up. “Patricia, Edward already has the portrait sittings, his piano lessons and the other appointments…” Her voice faded. She pressed her fingertips together and tried again. “It seems like rather a lot, that’s all I mean.”
Aunt Patricia turned back to her sister, “Oh, Marian, please. If it’s the expense that troubles you, I will of course see to it. It’s hardly worth discussing.” Her smile remained pleasant, but her voice had an impatient edge now. “It will only be a few hours each week, and it will support the portrait beautifully. Miss Vale is trying to paint refinement, not merely resemblance. Once Edward learns how to stand, sit, walk, lower his hands gracefully, and perform a proper curtsy, the whole likeness will finally settle into place.” She glanced at him with unmistakable satisfaction, as though she could already see the finished result.
Edward suppressed another groan. Even the placement of his hands was apparently about to become a subject of instruction.
“Don’t my hands lower properly now, Aunt Patricia?” he ventured timidly, suddenly conscious of where they were and how awkwardly they seemed to hang.
“I was speaking to your mother, dear, and that interruption is only further proof that some proper etiquette training will do you a world of good,” she said with brisk satisfaction. “But to answer your question, you plop your hands down like a careless boy, without the least thought for presentation. Miss Alcott will correct that. She will teach you where to place them and how to move them.” Her smile turned almost radiant at the thought. “And try to remember it’s ‘Aunty,’ dear.”
His mother looked tense. “Patricia, are you sure…?” Her voice trailed off. Aunt Patricia’s triumphant manner made it already seem decided. His mother seemed to have forgotten how to fully question anything her sister suggested.
Even so, Aunt Patricia’s pleasant expression cooled by a degree. It seemed she was at the end of her patience.
She exhaled deliberately, and her tone seemed to change. The air in the room grew more tense. “Marian,” she said very evenly, “I do hope you have not begun to feel overburdened by my involvement in your affairs. If my little efforts on behalf of you and Edward have become inconvenient, perhaps I should rethink them. I only mean to be helpful.”
She continued, “After all, if the little gifts, the small necessities attended to here and there… if these things are not welcome… perhaps I should just step back. I would never wish my help to make you uncomfortable.”
Edward gulped, and his mother blanched. Aunt Patricia seemed to be moving toward an ominous point. His aunt continued, her gaze dropping pointedly to Edward’s shorts and tee shirt as if they were muddy footprints on a clean carpet, “We took such great pains yesterday getting Edward a delightful new wardrobe, but yet this morning I find him still dressed like that.” Her voice remained smooth, but it had thinned into something cold at the edges. “Really, Marian,” she said with a trace of annoyance, “after all the trouble and expense we went to at Morgan & Tate’s, it is most discouraging.”
Edward’s face went hot. The way she spoke made his shorts and tee shirt feel shameful. Her words seemed to hang frozen. Edward realized suddenly that she was making a broader point. Until that instant, his aunt’s overbearing generosity had been uncomfortable to him mainly because it was smothering. Now he began to understand the portrait, the dresses and all the appointments reached deeper than that. Without saying it directly, she was reminding his mother that she kept them afloat in many other unspoken ways. His stomach gave a sick little drop. He realized that every reluctant “Yes, Aunty” on his part had become part of an unspoken price for that generosity.
His mother obviously understood it as well. She glanced meekly at Edward, then quickly away, as though ashamed that he had witnessed the exchange. “Oh, Patricia, no!” she said at once, her voice soft and anxious. “You have been so very kind to us. More than kind. I know how much trouble you take, and of course we appreciate it.” She searched Aunt Patricia’s face for some sign that she had repaired the offense, “I don’t know what we would do without you.” Her voice dropped still further. “I know you only want to help, and I’m so sorry I made it sound otherwise.” Marian swallowed and hurried on, “Please, Patricia, if you believe these deportment lessons are needed, then of course you are right.” She gave a small, pleading nod. “You understand these things so much better than I do, and Edward is grateful for the opportunity—aren’t you, sweetheart?” Her eyes flicked toward him with a strained appeal before returning to Patricia. “We are both thankful for everything you do.”
Edward felt the meaning of his mother’s words before he could fully process them. In addition to everything else, he would now have deportment lessons, and he would be grateful for them. Only minutes before, the familiar weight of his cargo shorts and the softness of the old shirt had made him feel briefly restored. Now, they hung on him like evidence of a failed escape. Whatever freedom he thought he had clawed back that morning now lay in ruins.
9
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 10, 2026, 12:14:22 PM »
A Morning Cut Short
For several seconds Edward lay still, trying to decide whether he had only dreamed it. He had twisted the blankets and sheets in his sleep. He sat up quickly, and his satin nightgown slithered around him. Then he cringed as he felt a telltale warm wetness in his lacy tap pants. The realization made him freeze. A new wave of embarrassment washed over him, and heat rushed into his face even though he was alone.
Percy sat on the bedside shelf in his neat blue suit, and Edward found he could not even bear to meet the doll’s glassy eyes. The absurdity of being embarrassed in front of a doll in his own room made him cringe.
Edward quickly scrambled out of bed and looked for something to change into. His extensive array of new dresses greeted him as he opened the closet doors. With a sense of relief, however, he spied a couple of his old tee shirts still hanging on the far end of the closet. In his chest of drawers, he found a single pair of normal briefs and a faded pair of cargo shorts. He grabbed it all and rushed to the bathroom. Once inside, he did the best he could to clean up with some tissues, He shirked off his frilly pink nightgown and thankfully changed into his boys’ clothes for the first time since yesterday morning.
Back in the bedroom, he dropped his soiled tap pants into the hamper and covered them beneath a towel where he hoped they would not draw attention. He sighed to see there were already a couple of other pairs of his panties in there, but oddly he realized that might keep the tap pants from drawing undo notice. For now, however, the familiar weight of his cargo shorts and the softness of an old tee shirt felt wonderfully ordinary. He had several hours before Aunt Patricia was due back to take him to his next hair appointment and the afternoon sitting. He knew all that would consume his entire afternoon, but he meant to hold on to every minute of the morning. Moving around his room in clothes that still felt like his own, Edward sensed a little of the space he had lost. His spirits rose a bit.
At that moment, he heard his mother call him down for breakfast. He scrambled downstairs, leaving his nightgown on the bedroom floor. All of a sudden, he felt very hungry.
Later, Edward had just finished a quiet breakfast with his mother and was practically luxuriating in the normalcy of an ordinary morning. His mother was doing some ironing near the window. Then, he heard a car door shut outside. Edward froze instantly, and his mother tensed noticeably. It was Aunt Patricia! She was here much earlier than either of them expected. It was barely nine o’clock!
A moment later, Aunt Patricia swept through the front door in a flurry of her expensive clothing and determined good cheer. Her smile disappeared, however, when she saw Edward. She stopped short, and her gaze swept over his rumpled tee shirt and worn cargo shorts with obvious disapproval. Her nose crinkled. “Oh, Edward,” she said simply, the disappointment unmistakable.
She refrained for the moment from making any immediate comment about his attire. It seemed she had something else on her mind. With visible effort, she recovered some of her brightness and turned to her sister. She spoke purposefully, “I know I wasn’t due until later, Marian, but I simply could not wait." She continued, “I couldn’t help but notice on our shopping trip yesterday that Edward still seems somewhat… ill at ease… in his dresses and curls.” Looking again at her boyishly dressed nephew, she couldn’t help but add with a hint of disdain, “Now I think I am beginning to understand why. What a shame he chose to wear… that… today with all the lovely outfits in his closet.” She gestured with her hand to emphasize the point.
Edward’s lifted spirits from earlier collapsed. A flush crept into his face under Aunt Patricia’s disapproving scrutiny. Only moments ago, these familiar clothes had felt like old friends. Now, they seemed shabby and traitorous. He tugged nervously at the hem of his tee shirt and tried to look up at her. His eyes reached hers for barely a second before darting back to the floor. “I—I only thought…” He made another effort to meet her gaze, but her steady disappointment there made him avert his eyes again. “It was just for the morning, I might… I mean, just to be comfortable, Aunty.” His words faltered into an embarrassed murmur. Despite himself, he looked and sounded as though he had been caught misbehaving.
“Yes, well,” Aunt Patricia replied curtly, casually dismissing his explanation. She went on, “that’s precisely why we bought some new, perfectly comfortable clothes for you yesterday, sweetie!” Her expression brightened with proprietary satisfaction, “There is that sweet little dress with the darling pink-and-white stripes, for instance. It is soft, comfortable and ideal for wearing around the house.” She chided him, “Why not wear that, darling, instead of rummaging around in these tired old things?” As if to put a point on it, “how will you ever be able to embody the spirit of the portrait if you're unwilling to put in the effort?”
Edward swallowed and gave a small, mortified nod. He was incredulous at the notion that he was not putting in enough effort. That portrait had practically taken over his life!
Aunt Patricia clicked her tongue softly, and then she turned back to Marian as though Edward could have nothing further to add. She went on, “In any event, I had the most helpful idea on the drive home last night, and I wanted to tell you before the day got away from us.” She added eagerly, “I may have come across just the thing that will help Edward feel more natural for his sittings.”
“Just the thing, Patricia?” his mother asked quietly.
Edward’s stomach tightened as he braced for whatever she had dreamed up for him now.
For several seconds Edward lay still, trying to decide whether he had only dreamed it. He had twisted the blankets and sheets in his sleep. He sat up quickly, and his satin nightgown slithered around him. Then he cringed as he felt a telltale warm wetness in his lacy tap pants. The realization made him freeze. A new wave of embarrassment washed over him, and heat rushed into his face even though he was alone.
Percy sat on the bedside shelf in his neat blue suit, and Edward found he could not even bear to meet the doll’s glassy eyes. The absurdity of being embarrassed in front of a doll in his own room made him cringe.
Edward quickly scrambled out of bed and looked for something to change into. His extensive array of new dresses greeted him as he opened the closet doors. With a sense of relief, however, he spied a couple of his old tee shirts still hanging on the far end of the closet. In his chest of drawers, he found a single pair of normal briefs and a faded pair of cargo shorts. He grabbed it all and rushed to the bathroom. Once inside, he did the best he could to clean up with some tissues, He shirked off his frilly pink nightgown and thankfully changed into his boys’ clothes for the first time since yesterday morning.
Back in the bedroom, he dropped his soiled tap pants into the hamper and covered them beneath a towel where he hoped they would not draw attention. He sighed to see there were already a couple of other pairs of his panties in there, but oddly he realized that might keep the tap pants from drawing undo notice. For now, however, the familiar weight of his cargo shorts and the softness of an old tee shirt felt wonderfully ordinary. He had several hours before Aunt Patricia was due back to take him to his next hair appointment and the afternoon sitting. He knew all that would consume his entire afternoon, but he meant to hold on to every minute of the morning. Moving around his room in clothes that still felt like his own, Edward sensed a little of the space he had lost. His spirits rose a bit.
At that moment, he heard his mother call him down for breakfast. He scrambled downstairs, leaving his nightgown on the bedroom floor. All of a sudden, he felt very hungry.
Later, Edward had just finished a quiet breakfast with his mother and was practically luxuriating in the normalcy of an ordinary morning. His mother was doing some ironing near the window. Then, he heard a car door shut outside. Edward froze instantly, and his mother tensed noticeably. It was Aunt Patricia! She was here much earlier than either of them expected. It was barely nine o’clock!
A moment later, Aunt Patricia swept through the front door in a flurry of her expensive clothing and determined good cheer. Her smile disappeared, however, when she saw Edward. She stopped short, and her gaze swept over his rumpled tee shirt and worn cargo shorts with obvious disapproval. Her nose crinkled. “Oh, Edward,” she said simply, the disappointment unmistakable.
She refrained for the moment from making any immediate comment about his attire. It seemed she had something else on her mind. With visible effort, she recovered some of her brightness and turned to her sister. She spoke purposefully, “I know I wasn’t due until later, Marian, but I simply could not wait." She continued, “I couldn’t help but notice on our shopping trip yesterday that Edward still seems somewhat… ill at ease… in his dresses and curls.” Looking again at her boyishly dressed nephew, she couldn’t help but add with a hint of disdain, “Now I think I am beginning to understand why. What a shame he chose to wear… that… today with all the lovely outfits in his closet.” She gestured with her hand to emphasize the point.
Edward’s lifted spirits from earlier collapsed. A flush crept into his face under Aunt Patricia’s disapproving scrutiny. Only moments ago, these familiar clothes had felt like old friends. Now, they seemed shabby and traitorous. He tugged nervously at the hem of his tee shirt and tried to look up at her. His eyes reached hers for barely a second before darting back to the floor. “I—I only thought…” He made another effort to meet her gaze, but her steady disappointment there made him avert his eyes again. “It was just for the morning, I might… I mean, just to be comfortable, Aunty.” His words faltered into an embarrassed murmur. Despite himself, he looked and sounded as though he had been caught misbehaving.
“Yes, well,” Aunt Patricia replied curtly, casually dismissing his explanation. She went on, “that’s precisely why we bought some new, perfectly comfortable clothes for you yesterday, sweetie!” Her expression brightened with proprietary satisfaction, “There is that sweet little dress with the darling pink-and-white stripes, for instance. It is soft, comfortable and ideal for wearing around the house.” She chided him, “Why not wear that, darling, instead of rummaging around in these tired old things?” As if to put a point on it, “how will you ever be able to embody the spirit of the portrait if you're unwilling to put in the effort?”
Edward swallowed and gave a small, mortified nod. He was incredulous at the notion that he was not putting in enough effort. That portrait had practically taken over his life!
Aunt Patricia clicked her tongue softly, and then she turned back to Marian as though Edward could have nothing further to add. She went on, “In any event, I had the most helpful idea on the drive home last night, and I wanted to tell you before the day got away from us.” She added eagerly, “I may have come across just the thing that will help Edward feel more natural for his sittings.”
“Just the thing, Patricia?” his mother asked quietly.
Edward’s stomach tightened as he braced for whatever she had dreamed up for him now.
10
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Portrait of Edward Gray
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 06, 2026, 07:46:06 PM »
Thank you ace! And also thanks to you, bonzodoug from a week ago.
RIP Betty. You are missed.
RIP Betty. You are missed.
The more you give, the more I can give back.
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