Recent Posts
81
Active Sissy Stories / Re: My Childhood in Diapers
« Last post by BabyJay on November 01, 2025, 12:33:19 PM »
A delightful start. Look forward to seeing what further humiliating situations His Mother and Aunt have in store for Him
82
Active Sissy Stories / Re: My Childhood in Diapers
« Last post by sweet baby katie on November 01, 2025, 09:16:35 AM »
i enjoy all of your stories. they touch many elements of my dreams (not the chastity device however). A nice afterword might be how a girl from his high school learns of his condition (keeping his secret but knowingly looking in his eyes whenever their paths cross in school) shares babysitting with his aunt, dressing him in some of her old toddler dresses and expanding his wardrobe of frilly diaper covers.
83
Active Sissy Stories / Re: New Arrangements for Josh
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 31, 2025, 09:26:55 AM »
PART 69
Watching all these women attend so carefully to him, Mrs. Standish exclaimed, “My goodness, dear, aren’t you lucky to have such wonderful mentors!” She took in Josh’s perfectly arranged outfit, from his charming velvet suit to his freshly fluffed hairbow, and continued approvingly. “Look at you! Not a single frill or ruffle out of place on this Little Lord Fauntleroy… so sweet!” She said this loudly enough that even more eyes seemed to turn his way.
Blushing again now, Josh managed to reply, “Thank you, Mrs. Standish. I’m… grateful for everyone’s help.” This fresh avalanche of attention had him completely flustered.
“You’re such a precious thing,” Mrs. Standish went on admiringly. Then she spoke to the whole table, “I just came by to make sure everyone is having a nice time.”
Gwendolyn replied immediately, “Everything is just great… we’re having a wonderful time.” Everyone else at the table immediately nodded in agreement, while Josh’s emotions remained on edge. All this mothering really did make him feel like a delicate porcelain doll!
As Mrs. Standish made small talk with his mother and the other ladies, Josh’s thoughts drifted back to his life of only a week ago. Boyish things like getting his sneakers muddy or goofing off with his friends seemed so distant now. His new world was embodied by this fussy velvet suit, his delicate new dresses and an endless parade of frills and ribbons. His heart grew heavier.
His thoughts were interrupted when Miss Andrea spoke to him again, “Hold still, dear, you have some powdered sugar on your mouth.” He sat still as a mouse while she carefully dabbed at the corner of his lips with her napkin. Then, she fussily brushed a speck of lint from the sleeve of his velvet jacket. “There we are, sweetie, all tidy again!” she assured him.
Mrs. Standish lingered a moment longer and seemed delighted as she watched the ladies continue to sweetly mother the sissified teen. Then, she moved on to visit the next table, and it seemed they were finally done fussing over him, at least for the moment.
Tentatively, Josh dared to reach for his teacup again. In the next second, however, his mother gently corrected the way he did it, “No, no, sweetheart, like this…” She made certain that he extended his pinky delicately, keeping his wrists soft and his movements gentle. She coached him patiently, “Remember, honey, focus on smooth, graceful motions.”
Then his mother giggled softly and leaned close to whisper, “You’re doing so well, darling. Just breathe. You’ll eventually get used to all this attention!”
Mrs. Smyth, observing Gwendolyn’s careful efforts, offered some additional advice. “Use a light, airy touch, Josh… it’s the little things that make all the difference for young ladies!”
Josh sighed softly. Then, he primly drank more of his tea with careful, dainty sips.
“Lift your chin, dear,” Mrs. Smyth reminded him with a twinkle.
As they finished their food, the staff began clearing all the fancy plates from the tables. Josh cringed when the same lanky busboy he had seen on Sunday came to their table. The handsome teenager was probably about his age, but their situations were worlds apart. His nametag identified him as “Sean.” In contrast to Josh, Sean was dressed casually in a white polo shirt and black pants like the rest of the staff. Josh watched as the athletic boy effortlessly hoisted a large bin of dishes and balanced it against one hip while he cleared their table.
Helplessly trapped in his elaborate velvet Fauntleroy suit, Josh sat stiffly. His hands fumbled awkwardly with the napkin on his lap for a moment, but then he remembered not to fidget. By this point, he was painfully conscious of his every movement. Thanks to all the primping he had been subjected to, his ruffles and frills practically bloomed around his neck, wrists and knees. Where Sean looked ready to dash off and join a soccer game, Josh looked like a fancy Victorian doll come to life. All the ribbons and bows of his outfit suddenly felt ten times heavier. Josh kept his eyes lowered, wishing he could turn invisible.
Sean was obviously puzzled but also somewhat amused at the sight of this fancily dressed boy sitting before him. His curiosity seemed to mingle with disbelief, and then the trace of a faint smirk tugged at his lips. As Josh watched, Sean paused, a peculiar look flickering across his face.
In the next moment, Josh was horrified when Mrs. Smyth swooped in again like a doting aunt. She stood up and spoke to him as if Sean wasn’t even there, “Oh dear, you’ve managed to get your collar mussed again.” Her deft fingers picked at his extravagant lace collar for a few seconds, and then she said, “There we are, darling—nice and neat again!” As she finished, she gave his chin the slightest little tap with her fingers and said lovingly, “Chin up, dear.”
Having no choice, Josh obediently lifted his head up as he was told. Scarlet red, Josh practically froze as he made eye contact with Sean. He was painfully aware of every ringlet that bobbed around his cheeks.
Sean paused mid-stack, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen.
“Uhh… that’s some outfit,” he muttered. He didn’t say it unkindly… it was just obvious he didn’t know what else to say.
Josh sat there in wordless humiliation. He didn’t trust his voice at this point. The contrast between the two teenage boys could not have been more stark! Josh felt a familiar but unwanted tingling in his panties again! His heart raced and he took a few short breaths only to be reminded of the unyielding corset he wore under his pretty silk blouse.
Then his mother purposely cleared her throat ever so slightly, and Josh realized he was expected to reply even though Sean clearly hadn’t expected a response. “Thanks… it’s, uhh… it’s called a Fauntleroy suit,” he managed to croak. Just to do something with his hands, he reached again for his teacup with a shaky hand and took a sip of the still-warm tea. Immediately he regretted it, since it only drew more notice to his polished pink nails and frilly cuffs. He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his back. An awkward silence followed as the busboy’s eyes grew wider.
Josh struggled to find his voice. “Um… the velvet, and, um… all the… decorations are… traditional.” Every word made him feel unbearably silly, and his blush deepened until his ears glowed. “My mother wanted me to wear it to, um… match my sister,” he finally managed. Sean turned to Kathy, and she flashed a beaming smile in return.
Sean’s confidence seemed to magnify Josh’s discomfort. With a little half-smile, Sean paused, “You were here Sunday too, weren’t you? I saw you in, um… your pink dress.”
Josh’s heart leapt into his throat. He every remembered every detail of Sunday all too well—the wispy pink chiffon sundress with the playful polka dots, the lace, the way everyone’s eyes had followed him through the room. He remembered how he had twirled and curtsied so sweetly for Mrs. Smyth. The recollection made Josh’s face flush even deeper, the color rising all the way to his ears as he looked down at his lap, mortified.
Josh responded with a deepening blush, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… that was me." In a futile attempt to evade attention, he added, “Kathy picked it out for me.”
At the mention of her name, Kathy giggled, “I told you that chiffon dress was adorable! See, even he remembers you!”
After a moment, Sean the busboy just nodded, and said with a hesitant smile, “Oh, OK… I guess you just have to go along sometimes.” With a final grin at Kathy, Sean removed the last plate and then moved on to the next table.
Josh was left trembling, his heart pounding and his embarrassment complete.
Kathy giggled and said, “You might have an admirer, Josh!” Then she winked at him and added, “He’s a cutie!”
Josh’s mother, Mrs. Smyth and Miss Andrea chuckled at the exchange.
After a few interminable moments, Josh’s racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass.
Watching all these women attend so carefully to him, Mrs. Standish exclaimed, “My goodness, dear, aren’t you lucky to have such wonderful mentors!” She took in Josh’s perfectly arranged outfit, from his charming velvet suit to his freshly fluffed hairbow, and continued approvingly. “Look at you! Not a single frill or ruffle out of place on this Little Lord Fauntleroy… so sweet!” She said this loudly enough that even more eyes seemed to turn his way.
Blushing again now, Josh managed to reply, “Thank you, Mrs. Standish. I’m… grateful for everyone’s help.” This fresh avalanche of attention had him completely flustered.
“You’re such a precious thing,” Mrs. Standish went on admiringly. Then she spoke to the whole table, “I just came by to make sure everyone is having a nice time.”
Gwendolyn replied immediately, “Everything is just great… we’re having a wonderful time.” Everyone else at the table immediately nodded in agreement, while Josh’s emotions remained on edge. All this mothering really did make him feel like a delicate porcelain doll!
As Mrs. Standish made small talk with his mother and the other ladies, Josh’s thoughts drifted back to his life of only a week ago. Boyish things like getting his sneakers muddy or goofing off with his friends seemed so distant now. His new world was embodied by this fussy velvet suit, his delicate new dresses and an endless parade of frills and ribbons. His heart grew heavier.
His thoughts were interrupted when Miss Andrea spoke to him again, “Hold still, dear, you have some powdered sugar on your mouth.” He sat still as a mouse while she carefully dabbed at the corner of his lips with her napkin. Then, she fussily brushed a speck of lint from the sleeve of his velvet jacket. “There we are, sweetie, all tidy again!” she assured him.
Mrs. Standish lingered a moment longer and seemed delighted as she watched the ladies continue to sweetly mother the sissified teen. Then, she moved on to visit the next table, and it seemed they were finally done fussing over him, at least for the moment.
Tentatively, Josh dared to reach for his teacup again. In the next second, however, his mother gently corrected the way he did it, “No, no, sweetheart, like this…” She made certain that he extended his pinky delicately, keeping his wrists soft and his movements gentle. She coached him patiently, “Remember, honey, focus on smooth, graceful motions.”
Then his mother giggled softly and leaned close to whisper, “You’re doing so well, darling. Just breathe. You’ll eventually get used to all this attention!”
Mrs. Smyth, observing Gwendolyn’s careful efforts, offered some additional advice. “Use a light, airy touch, Josh… it’s the little things that make all the difference for young ladies!”
Josh sighed softly. Then, he primly drank more of his tea with careful, dainty sips.
“Lift your chin, dear,” Mrs. Smyth reminded him with a twinkle.
As they finished their food, the staff began clearing all the fancy plates from the tables. Josh cringed when the same lanky busboy he had seen on Sunday came to their table. The handsome teenager was probably about his age, but their situations were worlds apart. His nametag identified him as “Sean.” In contrast to Josh, Sean was dressed casually in a white polo shirt and black pants like the rest of the staff. Josh watched as the athletic boy effortlessly hoisted a large bin of dishes and balanced it against one hip while he cleared their table.
Helplessly trapped in his elaborate velvet Fauntleroy suit, Josh sat stiffly. His hands fumbled awkwardly with the napkin on his lap for a moment, but then he remembered not to fidget. By this point, he was painfully conscious of his every movement. Thanks to all the primping he had been subjected to, his ruffles and frills practically bloomed around his neck, wrists and knees. Where Sean looked ready to dash off and join a soccer game, Josh looked like a fancy Victorian doll come to life. All the ribbons and bows of his outfit suddenly felt ten times heavier. Josh kept his eyes lowered, wishing he could turn invisible.
Sean was obviously puzzled but also somewhat amused at the sight of this fancily dressed boy sitting before him. His curiosity seemed to mingle with disbelief, and then the trace of a faint smirk tugged at his lips. As Josh watched, Sean paused, a peculiar look flickering across his face.
In the next moment, Josh was horrified when Mrs. Smyth swooped in again like a doting aunt. She stood up and spoke to him as if Sean wasn’t even there, “Oh dear, you’ve managed to get your collar mussed again.” Her deft fingers picked at his extravagant lace collar for a few seconds, and then she said, “There we are, darling—nice and neat again!” As she finished, she gave his chin the slightest little tap with her fingers and said lovingly, “Chin up, dear.”
Having no choice, Josh obediently lifted his head up as he was told. Scarlet red, Josh practically froze as he made eye contact with Sean. He was painfully aware of every ringlet that bobbed around his cheeks.
Sean paused mid-stack, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen.
“Uhh… that’s some outfit,” he muttered. He didn’t say it unkindly… it was just obvious he didn’t know what else to say.
Josh sat there in wordless humiliation. He didn’t trust his voice at this point. The contrast between the two teenage boys could not have been more stark! Josh felt a familiar but unwanted tingling in his panties again! His heart raced and he took a few short breaths only to be reminded of the unyielding corset he wore under his pretty silk blouse.
Then his mother purposely cleared her throat ever so slightly, and Josh realized he was expected to reply even though Sean clearly hadn’t expected a response. “Thanks… it’s, uhh… it’s called a Fauntleroy suit,” he managed to croak. Just to do something with his hands, he reached again for his teacup with a shaky hand and took a sip of the still-warm tea. Immediately he regretted it, since it only drew more notice to his polished pink nails and frilly cuffs. He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his back. An awkward silence followed as the busboy’s eyes grew wider.
Josh struggled to find his voice. “Um… the velvet, and, um… all the… decorations are… traditional.” Every word made him feel unbearably silly, and his blush deepened until his ears glowed. “My mother wanted me to wear it to, um… match my sister,” he finally managed. Sean turned to Kathy, and she flashed a beaming smile in return.
Sean’s confidence seemed to magnify Josh’s discomfort. With a little half-smile, Sean paused, “You were here Sunday too, weren’t you? I saw you in, um… your pink dress.”
Josh’s heart leapt into his throat. He every remembered every detail of Sunday all too well—the wispy pink chiffon sundress with the playful polka dots, the lace, the way everyone’s eyes had followed him through the room. He remembered how he had twirled and curtsied so sweetly for Mrs. Smyth. The recollection made Josh’s face flush even deeper, the color rising all the way to his ears as he looked down at his lap, mortified.
Josh responded with a deepening blush, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… that was me." In a futile attempt to evade attention, he added, “Kathy picked it out for me.”
At the mention of her name, Kathy giggled, “I told you that chiffon dress was adorable! See, even he remembers you!”
After a moment, Sean the busboy just nodded, and said with a hesitant smile, “Oh, OK… I guess you just have to go along sometimes.” With a final grin at Kathy, Sean removed the last plate and then moved on to the next table.
Josh was left trembling, his heart pounding and his embarrassment complete.
Kathy giggled and said, “You might have an admirer, Josh!” Then she winked at him and added, “He’s a cutie!”
Josh’s mother, Mrs. Smyth and Miss Andrea chuckled at the exchange.
After a few interminable moments, Josh’s racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass.
84
Active Sissy Stories / Re: The Little Sisters of Gamma Delta
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 30, 2025, 06:55:37 PM »
Introduction: The Cheaters
It was the kind of Monday morning that freshmen tend to dread. Midterms loomed, and the air in Hargrove Hall was thick with anxiety and the smell of energy drinks. Over a hundred freshmen hunched over their desks grinding away on their exams in the huge lecture hall. Four boys sat near each other fidgeting more than most. There was Nate, tall and lean with a perpetually worried brow; Milo, shorter and twitchy, always cracking jokes to mask his nerves; Julian, the quiet artist with a knack for improvisation; and Owen, the one with a stubborn streak and innate skepticism.
The eighteen year-old boys had hatched a scheme the night before—the kind of desperate plan born from too little studying and too much youthful bravado. With a few answers discreetly scribbled onto the inside covers of their battered notebooks and a subtle system of coughs and taps carefully rehearsed, they believed they could outwit the proctors. Perhaps it was the sort of thing that might have worked in high school, when teachers were more overloaded and distracted.
But this wasn’t high school, and the volunteer exam monitors—three sharp-eyed seniors—moved with seasoned vigilance, canvassing the rows with an intensity that left little room for error. Unbeknownst to the boys, all three were members of the Gamma Delta sorority. One of the sisters, perched at the aisle, had already noticed the suspicious glances and muted signals exchanged between the four friends but continued to watch, her gaze coolly appraising. The boys didn’t know it yet, but they were being observed with focused scrutiny.
An hour into the test, as some students were finishing and turning in their papers, Nate took advantage of the students moving around him and tried to signal to Milo. Instead, he met the intense gaze of Madison, Gamma Delta’s president, who raised an eyebrow and jotted down their names. The trap had been set. She and her sorority sisters had been tracking their antics for nearly half an hour, trading glances and silent nods as they pieced together the boys’ strategy.
Madison had watched them with a mixture of amusement and calculation. She found the four somewhat endearing in their futile mischief. Gamma Delta was known for promoting and developing very strong-willed and decisive women. Perhaps, she mused, these boys were ideal candidates for a very different kind of lesson—one that would leave a lasting impression and also provide some entertaining distraction for her sorority sisters as well. In her mind, the wheels were already turning. With a chuckle, she recalled some similar things Gamma Delta had done before.
As the exam wrapped up, the four boys slunk outside, their hearts pounding with dread. Their anxiety deepened when, instead of being summoned to the dean’s office, they received instructions to report to the Gamma Delta sorority house. The stately Victorian building, adorned with pastel curtains and gleaming trophies visible through the windows, stood in stark contrast to the sterile halls of the administration office. The boys exchanged nervous glances, their relief at dodging official discipline quickly giving way to an ominous curiosity about what awaited them.
It was the kind of Monday morning that freshmen tend to dread. Midterms loomed, and the air in Hargrove Hall was thick with anxiety and the smell of energy drinks. Over a hundred freshmen hunched over their desks grinding away on their exams in the huge lecture hall. Four boys sat near each other fidgeting more than most. There was Nate, tall and lean with a perpetually worried brow; Milo, shorter and twitchy, always cracking jokes to mask his nerves; Julian, the quiet artist with a knack for improvisation; and Owen, the one with a stubborn streak and innate skepticism.
The eighteen year-old boys had hatched a scheme the night before—the kind of desperate plan born from too little studying and too much youthful bravado. With a few answers discreetly scribbled onto the inside covers of their battered notebooks and a subtle system of coughs and taps carefully rehearsed, they believed they could outwit the proctors. Perhaps it was the sort of thing that might have worked in high school, when teachers were more overloaded and distracted.
But this wasn’t high school, and the volunteer exam monitors—three sharp-eyed seniors—moved with seasoned vigilance, canvassing the rows with an intensity that left little room for error. Unbeknownst to the boys, all three were members of the Gamma Delta sorority. One of the sisters, perched at the aisle, had already noticed the suspicious glances and muted signals exchanged between the four friends but continued to watch, her gaze coolly appraising. The boys didn’t know it yet, but they were being observed with focused scrutiny.
An hour into the test, as some students were finishing and turning in their papers, Nate took advantage of the students moving around him and tried to signal to Milo. Instead, he met the intense gaze of Madison, Gamma Delta’s president, who raised an eyebrow and jotted down their names. The trap had been set. She and her sorority sisters had been tracking their antics for nearly half an hour, trading glances and silent nods as they pieced together the boys’ strategy.
Madison had watched them with a mixture of amusement and calculation. She found the four somewhat endearing in their futile mischief. Gamma Delta was known for promoting and developing very strong-willed and decisive women. Perhaps, she mused, these boys were ideal candidates for a very different kind of lesson—one that would leave a lasting impression and also provide some entertaining distraction for her sorority sisters as well. In her mind, the wheels were already turning. With a chuckle, she recalled some similar things Gamma Delta had done before.
As the exam wrapped up, the four boys slunk outside, their hearts pounding with dread. Their anxiety deepened when, instead of being summoned to the dean’s office, they received instructions to report to the Gamma Delta sorority house. The stately Victorian building, adorned with pastel curtains and gleaming trophies visible through the windows, stood in stark contrast to the sterile halls of the administration office. The boys exchanged nervous glances, their relief at dodging official discipline quickly giving way to an ominous curiosity about what awaited them.
85
Active Sissy Stories / The Little Sisters of Gamma Delta
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 30, 2025, 06:40:20 PM »
This is the start of another story I've been toying with. It's the first one that I've made some use of AI, which I'm generally very suspicious of.
To be clear, AI is not writing the story, but I'm using it to flesh out some of the detail. Honestly, I find that the AI quickly becomes repetitive and boring, so a real human brain has to actually do the rewriting. Still, it can be a useful tool I think. This is an experiment as much as anything else.
To be clear, AI is not writing the story, but I'm using it to flesh out some of the detail. Honestly, I find that the AI quickly becomes repetitive and boring, so a real human brain has to actually do the rewriting. Still, it can be a useful tool I think. This is an experiment as much as anything else.
86
Active Sissy Stories / Re: Proof of Intent
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 30, 2025, 06:32:39 PM »
What a nice story. Thank you antonia for another lovely tale. I always enjoy reading your stories. They certainly have a different vibe than my own, and they tend to push slightly different "buttons," but it's obvious you put effort and care into them.
Diversity is beautiful.
Kisses!
Diversity is beautiful.
Kisses!
87
Active Sissy Stories / Re: New Arrangements for Josh
« Last post by antonia on October 30, 2025, 03:44:47 AM »
Beautiful detail, such finesse and suspense! How on earth is this little sissy keeping his nappies dry with such tension and constant control of every moment? Thank you for a wonderfully crafted story.
88
Active Sissy Stories / Re: New Arrangements for Josh
« Last post by sissyboy1212 on October 29, 2025, 08:46:35 PM »
PART 68
Josh tried his best to be acquiescent and obedient, but this new onslaught of attention continued. All these persistent ministrations refocused Josh’s thoughts back to the here and now. To his chagrin, he realized guests seated nearby had taken notice of the smothering care and attention he was receiving. Mrs. Standish, still watching with increasing curiosity, seemed both amused and enchanted at the little scene.
Next, his mother’s attentive gaze landed on his stockings. She smiled gently and said, a little too loudly, “your stocking seam is crooked, darling. Stand up for me, please.” Flushing with embarrassment, Josh awkwardly rose from his chair, acutely aware of all the eyes upon him. His mother knelt gracefully and, with careful fingers, straightened the seams on both his stockings until they ran perfectly neat and true. The dainty garter straps under his velvet pants delicately tickled his thighs as she pulled his stockings this way and that with short little jerks. Then she playfully fluffed the lacy frills of his adorable anklet socks a few times for good measure. This overtly maternal doting—performed in full view of the other guests—only magnified Josh’s sense of exposure. He felt a fresh wave of humiliation, acutely aware of how far his new reality was from anything a typical teenage boy would ever experience.
While his mother was attending to his stockings, Mrs. Smyth noticed that one of the lacy puffs at his wrist was tucked under in the wrong way. “Hold out your hands for me dear,” she instructed as she briskly spun her chair around toward him. Chagrined, Josh obeyed and delicately extended his hands out as he was told. With gentle but exacting care, Mrs. Smyth undid the pink ribbon tie around his wrist and loosened the flouncy cuff. She made sure each frill fanned out beautifully over Josh’s wrist the way it was supposed to and then meticulously retied the ribbon into a dainty bow. For good measure, she repeated the process on his other hand and then inspected her work with a critical eye before allowing him to relax.
“There, darling, see how much nicer that looks now that your frilly cuffs are free to flit and float?” she beamed.
“Yes ma’am, thank you,” he croaked as the frills danced over his slender, manicured hands. “They look lovely,” he added sweetly.
Standing there so meekly and subjected to this dual primping from his mother and Mrs. Smyth, the blushing boy felt incredibly small and girlish. His tummy fluttered ceaselessly.
Retaking his seat at last, he saw a couple of elderly ladies in pearls at the next table cheerfully whisper to each other as they watched with amusement. They hardly bothered to pretend they hadn’t seen it all. They were obviously smitten with the teenage boy in the Fauntleroy suit that perfectly matched his sister’s gorgeous dress. His mind raced with self-conscious thoughts about how ridiculous he looked. As his nerves jangled, he absent-mindedly rested his elbow on the table.
Instantly, Mrs. Smyth’s keen eyes caught the breach in etiquette. She admonished him,
“Josh, dear, elbows must never touch the table. It’s simply not ladylike, and you must remember that every gesture matters.” She elaborated in an instructive tone, “You must strive to keep your elbows tucked gracefully at your sides and your forearms resting lightly on the edge of the table only as necessary.”
Josh’s cheeks burned as he quickly slid his elbow off the table.
She explained further, “In most cases, you should allow your hands to rest lightly in your lap with no unseemly gripping or fidgeting.” She gave him another admonishment, “and my goodness don’t crowd the table so! Scooch your chair back just a tad and open up the space. Let those beautiful frills breathe and give yourself room to be seen!”
Josh obediently slid his chair back a cautious inch or two and then let his hands slip quietly to his lap. His motion was timid and measured, as he feared disturbing the painstaking arrangement his of outfit’s frills, bows, and lace. He forced his fingers to uncurl and cupped them delicately in a very feminine way. As his hands rested sweetly on the soft pink velvet of his knickers, he was again keenly aware of the heat radiating from underneath his panties and bulky diaper. His frilly wrist puffs fanned out adorably on the rich fabric. The small additional distance he had created between himself and the table only heightened his sense of vulnerability.
“And dear,” Miss Andrea interjected again, “please sit up just a touch straighter.” As she spoke, her hand glided delicately along his back to nudge him toward a more upright posture. “Shoulders gently back, chin lifted—but not too high. Remember, a proper lady is always poised and never slouches.”
Josh was flabbergasted. With his restrictive corset, it was already impossible for him to slouch! How could he sit up any straighter? Sighing, he awkwardly tried to roll his shoulders back and lift up even more in his seat as instructed. All this constant fussing seemed to draw extra attention and make him feel even more girlishly conspicuous.
Josh tried his best to be acquiescent and obedient, but this new onslaught of attention continued. All these persistent ministrations refocused Josh’s thoughts back to the here and now. To his chagrin, he realized guests seated nearby had taken notice of the smothering care and attention he was receiving. Mrs. Standish, still watching with increasing curiosity, seemed both amused and enchanted at the little scene.
Next, his mother’s attentive gaze landed on his stockings. She smiled gently and said, a little too loudly, “your stocking seam is crooked, darling. Stand up for me, please.” Flushing with embarrassment, Josh awkwardly rose from his chair, acutely aware of all the eyes upon him. His mother knelt gracefully and, with careful fingers, straightened the seams on both his stockings until they ran perfectly neat and true. The dainty garter straps under his velvet pants delicately tickled his thighs as she pulled his stockings this way and that with short little jerks. Then she playfully fluffed the lacy frills of his adorable anklet socks a few times for good measure. This overtly maternal doting—performed in full view of the other guests—only magnified Josh’s sense of exposure. He felt a fresh wave of humiliation, acutely aware of how far his new reality was from anything a typical teenage boy would ever experience.
While his mother was attending to his stockings, Mrs. Smyth noticed that one of the lacy puffs at his wrist was tucked under in the wrong way. “Hold out your hands for me dear,” she instructed as she briskly spun her chair around toward him. Chagrined, Josh obeyed and delicately extended his hands out as he was told. With gentle but exacting care, Mrs. Smyth undid the pink ribbon tie around his wrist and loosened the flouncy cuff. She made sure each frill fanned out beautifully over Josh’s wrist the way it was supposed to and then meticulously retied the ribbon into a dainty bow. For good measure, she repeated the process on his other hand and then inspected her work with a critical eye before allowing him to relax.
“There, darling, see how much nicer that looks now that your frilly cuffs are free to flit and float?” she beamed.
“Yes ma’am, thank you,” he croaked as the frills danced over his slender, manicured hands. “They look lovely,” he added sweetly.
Standing there so meekly and subjected to this dual primping from his mother and Mrs. Smyth, the blushing boy felt incredibly small and girlish. His tummy fluttered ceaselessly.
Retaking his seat at last, he saw a couple of elderly ladies in pearls at the next table cheerfully whisper to each other as they watched with amusement. They hardly bothered to pretend they hadn’t seen it all. They were obviously smitten with the teenage boy in the Fauntleroy suit that perfectly matched his sister’s gorgeous dress. His mind raced with self-conscious thoughts about how ridiculous he looked. As his nerves jangled, he absent-mindedly rested his elbow on the table.
Instantly, Mrs. Smyth’s keen eyes caught the breach in etiquette. She admonished him,
“Josh, dear, elbows must never touch the table. It’s simply not ladylike, and you must remember that every gesture matters.” She elaborated in an instructive tone, “You must strive to keep your elbows tucked gracefully at your sides and your forearms resting lightly on the edge of the table only as necessary.”
Josh’s cheeks burned as he quickly slid his elbow off the table.
She explained further, “In most cases, you should allow your hands to rest lightly in your lap with no unseemly gripping or fidgeting.” She gave him another admonishment, “and my goodness don’t crowd the table so! Scooch your chair back just a tad and open up the space. Let those beautiful frills breathe and give yourself room to be seen!”
Josh obediently slid his chair back a cautious inch or two and then let his hands slip quietly to his lap. His motion was timid and measured, as he feared disturbing the painstaking arrangement his of outfit’s frills, bows, and lace. He forced his fingers to uncurl and cupped them delicately in a very feminine way. As his hands rested sweetly on the soft pink velvet of his knickers, he was again keenly aware of the heat radiating from underneath his panties and bulky diaper. His frilly wrist puffs fanned out adorably on the rich fabric. The small additional distance he had created between himself and the table only heightened his sense of vulnerability.
“And dear,” Miss Andrea interjected again, “please sit up just a touch straighter.” As she spoke, her hand glided delicately along his back to nudge him toward a more upright posture. “Shoulders gently back, chin lifted—but not too high. Remember, a proper lady is always poised and never slouches.”
Josh was flabbergasted. With his restrictive corset, it was already impossible for him to slouch! How could he sit up any straighter? Sighing, he awkwardly tried to roll his shoulders back and lift up even more in his seat as instructed. All this constant fussing seemed to draw extra attention and make him feel even more girlishly conspicuous.
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Active Sissy Stories / Re: Proof of Intent
« Last post by antonia on October 29, 2025, 10:26:47 AM »
How lucky to have such a beautiful dress!
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Active Sissy Stories / Re: Proof of Intent
« Last post by sissybaby34 on October 29, 2025, 10:19:11 AM »
I own one of those dresses, I will re read your story next time I get to wear it.
The more you give, the more I can give back.
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