The Prissy Princess Correctional Club

[sissykimmy1]

Warning:  This story contains depictions of physical abuse mainly in the form of spanking.  It contains emotional and psychological abuse in a family setting. It contains abuse in the form of drugging characters without their knowledge.  It contains depictions of schoolyard bullying and cruelty. It contains depictions of abusive and coercive cult like social pressure. This is a story about humiliation and forced feminization.  Please don’t read if depictions of this nature are not for you. 

Dedication: This story is dedicated to and very heavily inspired by Chris, the Radical Feminist, who blogs and posts great stories at: http://truepetticoating.blogspot.com/

Thanks, Chris!


The Prissy Princess Correctional Club
By SissyKimmy1

Part 1: One Little Day, Many Little Steps

Chapter 1: Prissy Princess Bad Behavior

Shawn stood sobbing in the middle of the room as he rubbed his sore, red bottom. He was dressed only in a white, very soft cotton camisole covered in prints of tiny pink and purple flowers with the matching panties and his white tights draped around the white Mary Janes he wore on his feet.

“What a sissy crybaby!” he was taunted by his sister Cindy, the previous owner of the panties and camisole he had humiliatingly been subjected to.  She was only one year older but much taller and more developed than her brother.  She hadn’t worn the childish girly-girl underwear for many years, and now, much to her delight, they belonged to her brother and fit him perfectly.

Shawn could do nothing but stare down at his girly new underwear in abject shame at what was happening to him. He had gotten in trouble with the law multiple times recently, and to avoid juvenile hall he had agreed to participate in a special diversion program overseen by his mother, who was a judge in juvenile court. She said it was a pilot program being introduced for testing that she had helped to design.  She told him it was called, “The PPCC,”  and that it was designed to keep him out of trouble and help him reach his true potential as a boy.

His mother warned him that it was a very new and controversial program and that his chapter would be one of the very first in the nation.  She said it would likely be at least a decade before the programs started to become widespread. The first major push was aimed for around 2004.  She told him it would be a very big help to her and to his legal case if he signed up because the program needed initial successful students if it was going to start to grow.  When he asked if the program was similar to what his sister had taken, she assured him that the girls and boys versions of the program were designed from the ground up to be perfect complements to one another, and that he would reach his full and proper potential just like his sister was doing.     

He readily agreed.  His sister had been voluntarily enrolled in one of their mother’s programs when they were both little.  Ever since that time, it seemed like she outshined him in everything she did, especially the things expected of boys, even though he used to viciously make fun of her for being such a girly girl.  Ever since she joined her mother’s program she was a better athlete, a genius level student in math and science with no exaggeration, and she always seemed to have all the confidence in the world.  All of this was because of his mother’s accelerated learning program for girls.  The “CGPC” or Champion Girl Promotion Club which had steadily grown to a full class of thirty young girls for this coming school year.  For the first time this year, the program was moving into a brand new school building all its own and would be run as a boarding school.  Shawn and his family would live in a separate house on school grounds.

The program was funded by an extreme radical feminist splinter group that was hoping to change the face of education.  They blamed patriarchal society for brainwashing girls away from athletics and hard sciences and robbing them of their confidence to make them dependent on men.  They isolated and immersed the girls in their own specially designed program rolled out in a few small enclaves where the radical feminists held political power and it seemed to have incredible results. Shawn’s mother was a local judge and was interested in the program, so she helped implement it in their town and his sister was one of the very first students.

Shawn thought that if he took one of his Mother’s programs he could finally start to catch up to his sister.  Whenever he complained about her people just told him he should be proud of her and support her for doing so well.  But that was hard when she was constantly taunting and bullying him and lording her success and maturity over him. She deliberately provoked him and it made it impossible for him not to seethe with jealousy, because no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t keep up.  She relished in taking sadistic revenge for Shawn’s bullying of her when they were little. 

The only thing he really had was his baseball team, where he was doing well and made friends with the team members who didn’t know him from school. He loved it. At school it was hard making friends because of a pair of bullies in his class he would only identify to his Mother and sister as, “The Twin Tormentors,” when he attempted to beg to be moved to another school or into a program like his sister’s. 

His Mother instead insisted on his big sister Cindy going to school with him to confront the bullying boys and get them to leave him alone.  Under any circ-umstances a boy would know it was a bad idea to have your sister come bail you out from bullying.  It was even worse when she arrived to discover the true identity of the pair of bullies he had humiliatingly nicknamed with comic book or pro-wrestling villain grandiosity.  It was two very pretty, blonde haired, identical twin girls named Karen and Diane Sinclair, who had the infuriating ability to appear and sound identically innocent as saints under any circ-umstances.  They spoke with identical bossy, posh British accents and almost always wore the same fashionable clothes and hairstyles, which they were doing that day. 

The three had actually been genuine friends when they first met.  Shawn was an outcast in his class.  He was bad at most sports the boys played besides baseball and was more the dreamy type who was interested in art.  He was always doodling and sketching and daydreaming in class. He wanted to try harder and keep up with his sister, but it was difficult for him and his mind wandered.   

The two new girls were rejected by the class for coming from another country and talking funny and being bossy.  Shawn was the only one who was nice to them at first because he understood what it was like to be left out.  He found the ways they were different from the rest of the people he knew to be exotic and interesting while the rest of the class just saw them as weird.

For reasons he couldn’t understand, eventually they turned on him and spent their time making his life miserable instead of being real friends.  The betrayal hurt the sensitive boy very deeply and made the bullying feel even worse.

[sissykimmy1]

Cindy laughed at the idea of helping her little brother against two prissy seeming girls and told told him he had to handle that on his own.  She said it was more likely he was was the one who started it, considering how he used to bully her for being girly when they were very little.  Cindy told them everything he had said about them bullying him, and exaggerated his complaints to make him sound like he was snivelling like a little girl at the time.  Then she told them about his private nickname for them.  He had only used it the one time out of frustration, but once they heard it they never let him forget it. 

He could still hear them laughing and repeating it in that moment, together singsong in unison in that infuriating accent, “The Twin Tormentors!?”  They were in hysterics.

Then the one on the left said, “Oh save me, Mummy! It’s The Twin Tormentors! Help me, Mummy! I wet my knickers!”

“Shut up, Diane!” he screamed.

Suddenly the two twins stopped laughing and looked curiously at each other.  Then the one on the right said, “What a little fairy, begging his big sister to come help him deal with his two best mates just because we teased him a little? He belongs in knickers and a frock for real.”

“We’re not best friends, Karen!  I hate you!” he replied.

The twins looked at each other again almost confused.  “You can tell us apart?” Diane, the one on the left asked. 

“We didn’t know you could do that. Nobody can tell us apart,” Karen, the one on the right added. “You didn’t used to be able to do that, we’ve been in class together ever since we moved to the States and you’ve never been able to do that before,” she mused. 

“Even our parents make me show the birthmark when they need to be sure,” Diane said.  Both girls pulled up their shirts a little, showing a distinctive mark on the right side of Diane’s torso.

Bullying forgotten for the moment they made him turn around, close his eyes, count to ten, and turn around again. He guessed right again, and then they kept repeating the test and he got four out of five. 

“Fascinating,” Cindy said. “I think I know how he does it.”

“Who cares?” Shawn asked in frustration. He added sarcastically, “Can you go now? Thanks so much for the help!”

“How does he do it?” Karen asked.

“Tell us!” Diane added.

Cindy told them her theory, seeming to take pleasure in her ability to explain it with clinical sounding coldness, “Instinct. He’s so afraid of you that he’s subconsciously reacting to you like you’re a predator and he’s your prey.  Fear has made him very highly attentive of you, all the time on the lookout.  You’re just walking around together having a normal day.  But he’s spending all that time thinking about that incident two weeks ago when,” she paused and laughed now seeing the incident in a different light than when she thought it was boys who did it, “The Twin Tormentors pulled down his pants at recess in front of the whole class. What was that about anyway?”

“He wanted to practice baseball with a few of the boys instead of coming off and practicing football with his two best mates,” Karen said.

“We thought otherwise,” Diane added. 

Cindy looked down at her pouting brother and then back at the twins with some annoyance for the very first time.  “Well, he’s not allowed to be playing football, it’s too dangerous for someone like him, he did the right thing in saying no.  I think it’s really cool that you Twin Tormentors are playing but...”

The girls giggled, “Soccer,” they interrupted together. 

Karen added, “He’s not very good but we have him play goalie and collect the balls for us, we don’t have a net so we just use cones.”

Diane continued, “The boys use the only net and they won’t let us play.”   

Cindy looked annoyed.  “Well that’s not right at all.” Cindy turned to her brother, “Shawn, I know you want to play baseball with the boys but you should be spending time with your best friends at recess.  Especially when they need your help.  I think you owe,” she paused and rolled her eyes dramatically, “The Twin Tormentors here, an apology.”

A red faced, resentful Shawn had no choice but to comply.

They never stopped bullying him after that. It was fun for them and Cindy had basically given them carte blanche on behalf of his mother. When he went home to complain about how Cindy had handled the situation his mother said she trusted Cindy’s judgement and that Karen and Diane sounded like precisely the sort of girls he should be making friends with. 

He kept trying to make friends with the boys in his class, but Karen and Diane would always mess it up somehow and he was stuck with them.  That’s what got him in this mess. He could never get away from them, and then when they did something that finally made him snap, he ended up in the most trouble he had ever been in.

It wasn’t until that morning, the first day of his sentence, when he woke up to find the PPCC handbook on his nightstand that he realized he had agreed to a very different program than his sister’s. The full title of the guide was, “The Prissy Princess Correctional Club Guidebook.” The jacket of the book was covered with silver and pink glitter and impossible to read without getting some on your clothes and hands. 

In numb shock he turned to the first page where there was a preface that read, “Welcome, willing inductee, to your Prissy Princess Correctional Club Trial Period.  Prissy Princess Trial Period methods and timeframes are subject to individual variation, but remember, at the successful completion of their Prissy Princess Trial Period EVERY Prissy Princess is privileged to receive a special unique Prissy Princess title all his own because every Prissy Princess is a special and unique snowflake.  Wow!  What’s yours? You don’t have to pick now, but you can’t complete your Prissy Princess Trial Period until you do.”

[sissykimmy1]

There was a form underneath the words with blanks to be filled in, it read, My name is “Little Miss ______, (Fill in the new Prissy Princess name your guardian has chosen for you.)

“And I’m the Prissy Princess of ______ ______ ______.” (Use three, in any order:)

-Your favorite color.
-Your favorite flower.
-One of your favorite things about being a Prissy Princess. Be creative!
-Your favorite spice or herb.
-Your favorite sugary treat.
-A word from the Prissy Princess ABCs

He read no further and charged downstairs to object, but just as he left his room he was ambushed by his Mother and Sister and dragged back inside.  They forced him to wear his sister’s childish outgrown underwear and a pair of tights and Mary Janes and then they took pictures with a Polaroid camera.  His mother then dragged him downstairs by his ear and a few minutes later he was in open rebellion again.  It didn’t last long.

“You have no one but yourself to blame,” his mother scolded as his post spanking sobs began to quiet. She grabbed him by the ear and made him mince towards the corner with his panties and tights still at his ankles. He was forced to stay there sitting for twenty minutes on a pink stool with a glittery pink sandpaper seat continuing to read the Prissy Princess Guidebook.  He wore a pink conical hat with the phrase “Prissy Princess Bad Behavior” printed on it in white. 

“Now. Are you ready to apologize to your sister and do as you’re told or do you need to spend some more time over my knee?”

With renewed sobs he nodded.

“Speak up, Little Miss Shawna,” his mother sternly ordered as he stood.

“Yes,” he replied in a sniveling whiny voice which earned him another quick slap on the rear, this time with the hated guide book which had been snatched back from him.  His sister laughed, in part at the glitter that had been left there after the impact.

“Say it like the book says you should, Cupcake,” his mother instructed.

“Yes, Mommy!” He squealed. “I’ll do as Miss Cindy says like a good Prissy Princess.”

In reply, she pointed to where his sister Cindy stood with a smug look of amusement and superiority on her face.  Shawn bent down to pull up his humiliating underwear before his mother pulled him up by the ear and again pointed to his sister.

“Since your sister is the one you disobeyed, even after she was kind enough to give you such a nice gift of her own hand me down panties from when she was little like you, she gets to decide when your punishment is finished. Maybe if you ask her very sweetly she will decide you’ve learned your lesson and can pull up your pretty panties and tights.”

Shawn was still forced by the humiliating little girl underwear tangled around his ankles to take tiny mincing steps towards his sister who stood clear across the room laughing at every moment of his emasculating humiliation. “When I’m done with you, my little sissy sister, mincing everywhere will be completely natural for you.  I doubt you’ll even remember how to walk like a boy.”

Shawn sobbed at the promise.  When his mincing journey across the room to where she stood mocking him was completed, Cindy forced him to look into her eyes as he spoke. “I’m sorry for disobeying you Miss Cindy. Please may I pull up my panties?  Thank you so much for giving them to me, they’re very pretty.”  He gritted his teeth at being forced to refer to her so respectfully when he was burning with resentment over his current circ-umstance. 

Cindy smiled as she replied, “Of course, Princess.”  She bent down and did the job herself.  Quickly she pulled up the soft cotton panties covered in purple and pink flowers and she could feel her brother shivering and shaking in humiliation and confusion at the sensations he felt from his new underwear being put back in place.

Shawn watched in the mirror as she slowly drew up the tights and fumed at the indignity of having no choice but to submit to this humiliating feminization at the hands of his sister.  She was only one year older than him but their relationship had been more like a mature aunt and a little boy for many years now.

“Thank you, Miss Cindy,” the sniveling boy replied as the tights were pulled snugly up, his panties still clearly visible beneath the white tights.

Cindy turned and picked up the object that had forced Shawn to try to resist his punishment and earn his spanking. That is to say, she lifted the very top of it out of the very large box it came in, the rhinestone covered sleeveless white bodice peaked out and below was what to Shawn looked like a bottomless sea of light purple taffeta. It was what his mother and sister had decided would be his very first Prissy Princess dress. It would change his life forever.  All because he got in serious trouble twice in two weeks.

-

WHAT'S YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS SPECIAL UNIQUE TITLE GOING TO BE? DO YOU KNOW YOUR PRISSY PRINCESS ABCs?

SHOULD YOU BE THE PRISSY PRINCESS OF...

PINK CHOCOLATE SURPRISES!?
CINNAMON RED ROSES!?
DITZY YELLOW DANDELIONS!?
CUTE CRINOLINE CYAN!?

Write some suggestions for your Prissy Princess special unique title in your Prissy Princess workbook.  Don’t worry if they don’t seem quite right, you’ll know just what to pick when the time comes.  In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of your favorite flower or a beautiful and unique snowflake. :)

[sissykimmy1]

Chapter 2: Prissy Princess ABCs

The first time he got in trouble had been for hitting a baseball through a rich (and vindictive) neighbor’s window and running away instead of taking responsibility. His mother refused to believe it wasn’t his fault.  But it wasn’t, it was The Twin Tormentors.

Their shrill, impossibly haughty yet casual voices had pierced that quiet summer afternoon, “Hi Shawny!” the one on the right said.

“There you are, Shawny!” the one on the left said.

He had been walking home from baseball practice and they were there waiting to meet him.

Shawn froze and looked at the two loathsome girls.  Ever since his sister had told them her theory a few years previously it became tradition that he had to guess which was which whenever they met up.  If he got it wrong, or he complained about it, they would find some creative new way to torment him.  If he got it right, they could  be close to at least vaguely almost semi-tolerable companions at times and they made sure he had nobody else anyway, besides his baseball team.

At school, he always had to sit at the desk between them.  Over the years they had convinced their parents and his mother that they were inseparable best friends.  They would even shamelessly shed tears and claim it was like they were triplets if a teacher ever tried to separate their group.  So, every time he tried to complain about them his teachers would treat it like a sibling squabble and let them work it out on their own.     

In most classrooms children tend to segregate along gender lines.  In Shawn’s class there were the girls, the boys, and then “The triplets.”  The triplets usually sat together at their own table at lunch.  Or sometimes Shawn sat between the twins at the girls table. Not too often though, because most of the girls found the twins too stuck up and bossy. Listening to Karen and Diane’s endless high volume accented chit chat as he sat between them often gave him a headache.  The triplets never sat with the boys because the boys wouldn’t let the twins sit with them because they were girls.  They weren’t even that sure about Shawn by himself.  The twins were his apparent best friends and they were constantly holding hands with him or kissing him on the cheek when the boys were still at an age where attracting that kind of attention from girls was icky, not something to be proud of. 

If their exclusive little three person clique ever got in any trouble, and they did frequently, it was Shawn who took all the blame because when anyone else looked at Karen and Diane they saw two precisely identical, pretty, blonde haired, well behaved, innocent little girls with accents that made them sound like royalty to most American ears.  They didn’t see The Twin Tormentors.  And on the other hand, they saw a slightly scrawny boy with messy somewhat long black hair who was probably up to no good when they looked at Shawn.  Sometimes it was just something minor that got him in trouble.  The twins favorite game was to pass notes to each other all day long.  They held entire conversations during class without ever being scolded for talking during class like some of the other girls.  Shawn would spend more time trying to carefully pass their notes without getting caught than paying attention in class when he was desperate to attempt to keep up with his sister’s achievements.

When he was caught he would have to stand and read the note out loud.  It was often something deliberately embarrassing the twins would never actually say.  “I think Betsy is super cute, I have a crush on her,” he would have to say out loud.  And then everyone would assume it was him, not one of the twins who wrote the note.  Betsy, the most popular girl in class, kicked him in the shins and called him a wimp and a nerd in front of everyone because of that.

But the baseball through the window was more than embarrassing for him, it was a nightmare.  He looked to his right and left one more time.

“Well, Shawny?” the one on the right asked.

He looked to his right.  “Hi, Karen!”

The one on the right, Diane, shook her head and tisked at him.  “Don’t even know your two very best mates on sight.  That seems like something...”

“...The Twin Tormentors,” the one on the left, Karen, continued, “Will have to punish.”

“Show me!” Shawn insisted.

Diane, the one on the right, giggled and raised her shirt to show the mark. 

“Have we ever lied?” Karen asked.

“What are you gonna do?” Shawn asked them.

“How about a simple trade?” Karen asked.

“We’ve never played baseball.  If you can do it we probably can to, will you teach us?” Diane continued.

“You can’t join my team.  It’s full, someone would have to quit first.  Two someones even, I know one of you won’t do it alone even if it does mean you get to embarass me.”

They giggled, “Maybe next year, we’ve heard at least one player is going to quit by then,” Karen added.

Diane continued, “But you could teach us until then.  Let’s try it!”  She grabbed the bat from him and Karen grabbed the glove and ball.

“Give them back!” he shouted.  “I’ll teach you but we can’t do it here.  We could get in trouble.”

Both of them laughed and Shawn fumed. “I could get in trouble!” Shawn tried instead.

“Then just leave them here with us,” Karen said.

“Yeah,” Diane agreed.

In unison as if practiced they taunted, “Go home and play with your dolls, fairy.”

His face turned red.  “I can’t leave them with you. I need them tomorrow for practice.  And I don’t play with dolls!  You play with dolls!  You’re always talking about your grandmother’s doll! Aren’t you too old to be obsessed with a doll anyway? Grow up! Nobody wants to play baseball with a bunch of prissy babies! Go home and have a tea party with your dolls and leave me alone!”

“He’s jealous of our doll!” Karen laughed totally dismissing his attempts to taunt back.

“Tell you what, Shawny, it’s a trade.  You can have the doll, we’ll take the baseball things,” Diane said.  She took the ball and lined up across from Karen who held the bat. 

Shawn saw the window directly across from where Diane was setting up to pitch. “Watch out for the window!” he shouted. “Don’t pitch it to her there!”

Diane ignored him and froze for a moment staring intensely towards Karen.   She quickly darted forward in what he at first felt relieved to discover was some incompetent girlish attempt at imitating a baseball pitcher, but despite the seemingly awkward and unrecognizable form she soon planted her foot and in a whirling overhand throw with a whiplike release tossed the ball directly dead center through the window.  Karen swung low at the errant ball in what almost looked like a golf swing, making no effort at all to connect.

“Rubbish,” They both said.

“What a coc-k-up!” Diane added.

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“We’re no good at baseball at all,” Karen added.

Before Shawn could process what was happening, they dropped the glove and bat and ran.  He froze, stunned.  Then he froze again, stunned that their actions could still stun him.  Then he made a big mistake, he ran, but not before the owner of the house got a very good look at him.  It was easy to confirm the glove, ball and bat belonged to him as well.  Nobody recalled seeing The Twin Tormentors anywhere near the window, just some bad boys playing baseball where they shouldn’t.  They remembered this because The Twin Tormentors had returned seconds after Shawn ran to report to the homeowner that they had been standing across the street and saw a gang of very bad boys, and that Shawn was one of the ringleaders.  They broke into tears when they reported that, because a crowd had formed over the commotion and their extremely close friendship with Shawn was well known around the neighborhood.  Who could forget that the black haired little troublemaking boy was absolutely inseparable from those sweet precious identical twins with the adorable British accents?  What a shame, they thought, that he had fallen in with a bad crowd and let them down.

For Shawn, his entire life was like he had two incredibly overbearing older British step-sisters, and he already had enough trouble trying to cope with his real American overbearing older sister and his extremely overbearing Mother. Baseball was all he had, and The Twin Tormentors had taken it away.  His mother refused to buy him a new glove and bat and he was forced to use all of his saved up allowance money to pay for the window he didn’t even break.  When he returned to school the twins acted like nothing had happened. He spent every day those next two weeks thinking about how sweet it would be to finally have some revenge on them, but they laughed off anything he did like they didn’t care.  They even continued to torment him about the event.  One day a note he got caught passing and was forced to read out loud to the class said, “K+D, I’m so jealous of your precious doll! -Shawny.”

Then, one day the twins brought their grandmother’s doll into school as part of a history report.  They said that the doll was very valuable. The doll had blonde hair and blue eyes and wore a fancy old fashioned dress. The twins said that the doll was from before World War II and that their grandmother had carried it everywhere when she was a little girl, even after their family fled London during the Blitz.  It was actually a very interesting presentation, Shawn thought, until they got to the ending.  They talked about how their Grandmother had given it to them to share when they were little because they admired it so much, and they said that in the spirit of continuing the tradition, they had decided to give the doll to Shawn, their mutual best friend and spiritual triplet, who admired the doll so much he had even agreed to trade his baseball glove and bat for it before he lost them.  Shawn stood in outrage, his face red as the entire class laughed at him. Every single student and even the teacher was utterly convinced he actually wanted the doll and was even willing to give up playing baseball to have it. 

Enough was enough, he thought.  He resolved to himself that he would never let The Twin Tormentors push him around again.  He stood up and angrily told them off.  He said he hated dolls and all girly things. He screamed every dirty name at them he could come up with and insisted that he hated them and would never speak to them again.  Then, he pulled the dolls head off right in front of them and the entire class.  It was only then that he started to calm down from his blind rage and realized that if the doll was as valuable as they said it was, he could have simply dealt with the embarrassment and sold it so he could buy a new glove and bat.  It was too late for that.

Of course, since nobody believed the twins were bullying him, or if they did they thought it was his own fault if he let girls push him around, Shawn was regarded as the bad guy in this situation as usual.  The Twins had put on an Oscar calibre performance as innocent little victims as usual.  One could really believe they thought of Shawn as their triplet and that his abusive tirade had shocked them to the core even though they were nearly as nasty to Shawn every day as he had been that once.  When they were playing victim over the incident, they started to refer to Shawn as “The Dolly Destroyer,” as a cheeky companion to the absurd nickname he had given them. 

He was to be expelled from school for the abusive things he said to the twins in front of everyone and for destroying the valuable and historic doll instead of simply refusing the gift politely.  He was also facing potential charges in court for this incident and for the baseball incident.  The single saving grace of the disaster was that he was finally free of the horrible Twin Tormentors for good.  But that was little consolation now that he had a hint of what his new educational program would be like.

Shawn’s mother was absolutely outraged when she heard the news, and knew it was time for her to act. She had convinced him to join the PPCC and was now ready to start his new life.  She forced him to dress up in the panties, tights, camisole, and Mary Janes and pose with smile on his face so she could take a polaroid picture and that’s when she explained the situation.  Shawn could either enthusiastically dedicate himself to being the best Prissy Princess he could be and doing everything his mother and big sister told him, whether he liked it or not, or he could go to juvenile hall.  His mother would use her connections to make sure all the other boys saw a copy of the photo.  Shawn had initially agreed, that submission his first step from macho boy to true sissy, but when he saw the dress his male ego just couldn’t help but demand he make one last attempt to fight back.

That’s when he was forced to experience the thirty minute ordeal over his mother’s knee while his sister watched on in amusement.  For the first ten minutes she spanked him over the tights with his Mary Jane clad feet kicking in the air.  She didn’t spank the entire time, this was just a warmup.  She would stop to repeatedly lecture him on how poor his behavior had been and what would be expected of him as a Prissy Princess.  After that she pulled down his tights and continued for another ten minutes over his panties. With his legs all tangled up he could no longer kick them, he tried to use his arm to block some of the blows.  For the first ten minutes he continued to backtalk and insist he was still a boy.  For the next ten he was simply begging not to be forced to act like a girl and for his mother to destroy the photo.  After twenty minutes, his mother pulled down his panties and held his arms very tightly so he could now to nothing to react or fight back, just stare at the ground and sob as she spanked him non-stop for five minutes.  After that, he screamed, “I’m a Prissy Princess!”

His mother told him she wanted to make very sure he didn’t want to go to juvenile hall instead so she kept the sobbing sissy on her lap for another five minutes.  Each minute she would give his bare bottom a single slap and ask, “Are you a boy?”

And Shawn was forced to reply, “I’m a Prissy Princess and my name is Little Miss Shawna!”  After five minutes, with tears in his eyes, he was handed a pen covered in pink glitter that wrote in pink ink and his Prissy Princess Guidebook and was forced to fill in, “Shawna” on the form on the first page with the blank for his new Prissy Princess name.

The dress was the most spectacularly prissy and girly thing Shawn had ever seen.  It was a lavender and white, sleeveless, floor length ball gown for little girls. The dress was suitable for a particularly fancy flower girl or prissy birthday girl, but definitely not for any boy or even most girls. It just screamed that the wearer very clearly thought of themselves as a girly girl prissy little princess. The white bodice of the dress was embroidered with sparkly rhinestones. It had a corset lace back that left some of his back visible. The very full and poufy lavender taffeta skirt had a satin sash at the waist that tied in a bow on the front and three separate bows going down the rear of the skirt. The skirt covered layers and layers of white crinolines. The bottom of the skirt was embroidered with flowers in white lace and the skirt was so full there would even be an elegant trail of lace behind him as he walked.

“Please can I wear it, Miss Cindy? Shawn was forced to ask.

[sissykimmy1]

“I’m still not sure that you mean it, Shawna,” His sister replied.  “I told you I wanted you to ask for it like you really wanted it, didn’t I?”

Shawn tried again with similar results. He couldn’t contain his humiliation and disgust at the thought of wearing that little girl’s dream dress and it was showing.

“I think we just need to get you into the right mindset first. This is all happening so fast, little sissy sis, I know what to do!”

From a bag she retrieved a box covered in pink wrapping paper and handed it to her brother who was forced to kneel still only clad in little girl’s underwear and Mary Janes and open his present. Inside was a doll wearing a replica of the dress they would be forcing him to wear. The doll had black hair and green eyes like he did as well.  Shawn seethed at the indignity of being forced to play with a doll after all he had been through.  His sister assured him playing with his dolls was going to be his new favorite pastime. 

After suitable sniveling thanks for the gift of his new dolly he was forced to clutch the doll in one arm while he repeatedly skipped around the room.  He was forced to read out loud from the next page of the Prissy Princess Guidebook, one he was told he must memorize immediately.  The page contained, “The Prissy Princess ABCs,” which it wrote were a list of words to help describe what an ideal Prissy Princess should be like. His sister instructed him on how to speak, raising the pitch of his voice and trying to sound as cloyingly sweet and feminine as possible.

His sister ordered him to contemplate his fate as he skipped around the room, doll in arms and Prissy Princess ABCs on his mind.  She told him to really think about his destiny to go from being a macho bullying boy to the most prissy of princess and how he had no choice at all. He was told to think about his sore bottom and what he would face if he didn’t play his role well enough. He was told to think about how everyone he knew was going to see him as the biggest sissy boy ever and he couldn’t stop it. When he completed a circuit of the room he was told to stop, hug his dolly very tightly with both hands and mince over to the dress to look at it again.  He had to keep skipping and singing his PPABCs until he felt emasculated and girly enough to really beg for the dress with a big smile on his face and convincing enthusiasm.

After about fifteen minutes Shawn finally stopped and begged his sister to let him wear the dress. He gushed about how pretty it was and how it matched his dolly and about how much of a princess it would make him feel like. “Oh please, Miss Cindy, pretty please may I wear it?  I love it so much!  The lace is so pretty and lavender is my favorite color!  I’ll do anything!  Please, Miss Cindy, please!”

Cindy wasn’t satisfied, and he minced away to resume skipping with tears in his eyes.  Cindy smiled.  She knew the next time would be the real fun.

Shawn was physically and mentally exhausted from skipping around the room in nothing but tights and little girl underwear and a look of determination came to his face. He skipped around once more, steeling himself, before he stopped to hug his dolly and minced over to this sister with a huge forced grin on his face.

Oh how he begged. Never letting the smile drop. He clumsily tried to adopt little girl mannerisms. Cindy promised him he would later perfect them. He held his hands primly in front of him. He would hop up and down in apparent enthusiasm. He would do as good a curtsy as he knew how.  He acted like the biggest sissy he could and begged, “Pretty pretty Prissy Princess please can I wear my fabulous princess dress!? It’s everything I ever wanted!”

“I don’t know, Shawna.  You still don’t sound like a true Prissy Princess to me,” his sister replied.

Shawn almost screamed in frustration wondering how much more they wanted him to debase himself. Not knowing what else to do he looked to his mother for relief from his sister’s torment.

“Well, Shawna,” his mother spoke, “What do you think a prissy very little girl would do if someone said she wasn’t allowed to wear a pretty dress?  Do you think she would just take no for an answer?”

His sister looked at him expectantly. His face turned red again as he realized what he had to do. Not quite ready to face it, he turned and skipped around the room one more time before stopping, hugging his dolly, taking a deep breath, and mincing back towards his sister with a decidedly petulant frown on his face.

“I want my pretty princess dress!  Now!” he demanded.  He stamped his foot in impotent protest.

His sister smiled realizing he had indeed caught on with what she wanted.  “I said no, Little Miss Shawna. It looks like someone is going to get another spanking for disobeying big sister,” she threatened.

“I don’t care!  I want to wear my pretty new dress! I want it now!”  Shawn shouted in reply,

After a few more minutes of back and forth like this Shawn started up with the waterworks. “But it’s so pretty Miss Cindy, why can’t I have it? It would look so pretty and adorable on me!  Pretty please!” he whined with glistening tears on his cheeks.

After ten minutes it was a full blown out of control temper tantrum like a toddler girl being denied a treat. Shawn cried and begged and screamed hysterically to be allowed to wear his pretty new dress. “MOMMY IT’S MINE! MISS CINDY! *SOB*  I WANT IT NOW! *SOB* I WANT MY DRESS! IT’S NOT FAIR! I WANT TO WEAR MY PRETTY NEW DRESS! *SOB* IT’S NOT FAIR, MOMMY! TELL MISS CINDY TO GIVE IT TO ME!” Eventually in one final impotent gesture he threw his dolly to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest with a pout.

Laughing hysterically at the drawn out performative temper tantrum she had forced from her brother his sister replied,  “Well of course you can wear it, Princess. I was just having some fun. But remember, you still need another spanking for disobeying sister.”

“Don’t forget, for not taking care of his dollies too,” his mother added before picking up the doll and forcing it back into his hands. “Little boys who become Prissy Princesses to learn not to hurt other people’s dollies will be in big trouble if anything happens to their own.  Don’t forget it, Little Miss Shawna.  And you had also better remember that outside of a cute little sissy tantrum like that, ‘It’s not fair,’ is a phrase a Prissy Princess never says to whoever’s in charge.  Your job is to do what you’re told, not to question your big sister.  Understand, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, Mommy!” he squealed and with those words the humiliated sissy looked up in fear as his sister pulled him over her lap to receive his second spanking of the day. He cried in pain and frustration and screamed promises that he would be a good little princess for her.

With tears in his eyes, he held his sister’s hand as he minced towards the dress, panties and tights again still at his ankles. His sister pulled them up and gently patted him on the behind, much to his humiliation. In minutes his mother was tightly lacing up the back and he was wearing his girly girl nightmare dress. 

-

EVERY PRISSY PRINCESS HAS TO KNOW THE PRISSY PRINCESS ABCs!

The Prissy Princess ABCs

A is for Angel
B is for Beauty
C is for Cute
D is for Ditzy
E is for Empathy
F is for Fancy
G is for Giggles
H is for Happy
I is for Image
J is for Jovial
K is for Kawaii
L is for Loyal
M is for Moral
N is for Nice
O is for Open
P is for Pomp
Q is for Quiet
R is for Regal
S is for Slim
T is for Twee
U is for Upright
V is for Vacant
W is for Waifish
X is for Xylose
Y is for Yielding
Z is for Zesty

Do you have a favorite? Why is it your favorite? Do you know what xylose is?  Write your answers in your Prissy Princess workbook.  In your Prissy Princess art book, draw a picture of what the ideal image of a Prissy Princess may look like. :)

[sissykimmy1]

Chapter 3: Prissy Princess Happy Safe Place

The wide poufy lavender floor length skirt with the delicate white lace trail behind it was difficult to manage, especially for a boy who had never worn a skirt before.  There was no choice but to keep taking mincing little steps, but even then he could barely manage to walk in it. He couldn’t see his Mary Jane clad feet.  He couldn’t even see the floor for what felt like several feet around him. It was impossible to ignore the strange feelings he felt as he minced along with the tights and the massive crinolined skirt swishing and rustling with every tiny little step he took.  Every little movement and he could hear the rustling of the skirt, the only chance not to hear it was to stand or sit completely still. Every single single moment the struggling remains of his male ego were shouting in protest at what he was doing, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it.  He wore underwear and shoes suitable for a five year old little girl and a girly girl princess dream dress like something out of a Disney movie.

His sister led him by the hand to the mirror and made her brother see himself as the soppy, dolly clutching, mincing and skipping, ultra little girly girl Prissy Princess he had become. He was forced to apologize, sincerely and enthusiastically for several minutes of course, to the doll in the matching dress he had thrown on the ground and was told he would name, “Miss Priscilla.”

“This is just the start, little sissy sis. You aren’t a boy anymore. You can’t be. Not ever again.  Not after what you did today. Not after what you’re going to do later. You know it. I know it. I’m going to make you into the biggest sissy there is. You won’t remember how to be a boy, only to be a parody of a traditionally feminine mincing little girl who lives for dresses and dolls. I know there’s still some part of you who wants to fight it, and there always will be. But that part is going to grow quieter and quieter until one day you won’t even remember it’s there.  Until I remind you Mom and I did this to you against your will.  But even then, you won’t give up being a Prissy Princess.  You won’t know how. You won’t want to. And we wouldn’t let you anyway.  It’s better to just not fight it, Little Miss Shawna.  This is who you are now.  I’m not saying you have to commit to it today, but you will be playing the part today and everyday from now on anyway, I promise you, so you might as well consider embracing it instead of fighting it.  Okay, Shawna?”

“Yes, Miss Cindy,” Shawn replied despite having no intentions of ever considering embracing it for real.

Cindy sensed he was not being honest. She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Close your eyes, Shawna.”

Shawn closed his eyes.  As his sister spoke still all in a whisper he could feel lipstick and other cosmetics being applied and eventually pulling and tugging on his moderately long hair. He felt something clipped onto his his ears and at one point was made to hold out his hands for what was clearly nail polish.  He heard a soft sound and then smelled a heavily applied lavender scented perfume.   â€œWhat do you think it will be like for you after a full year of being a Prissy Princess?”

Cindy ruffled his skirt and Shawn shuddered at the sensations he felt as she continued with his eyes tightly closed.  Shawn couldn’t help but imagine himself in every single situation she described in her semi-hypnotic whispering voice,  “A year of beginner ballet classes. A year of public ballet recitals. And tap too. A year of beauty pageants and pageant coaching. Beginners gymnastics in a cute little leotard. 

“Of course, someone in the Prissy Princess Correctional Club like you has to do community service.  Little sweetheart Shawna is going to volunteer at the senior center to help keep the old folks entertained.  Imagine it Shawna, all those nice old ladies treating you like their own precious little granddaughter after you show up to keep them company after ballet class still wearing your pink leotard and tutu.  Just think how much they’ll love you after you show up in a Shirley Temple dress to tap dance for them? Won’t that be fun?”  Cindy ruffled his skirts again and she giggled as she could see him blush profusely. For a few quick moments she could hear him involuntarily tapping his Mary Jane clad feet hidden beneath his skirts.  He was swaying back and forth and trembling in fear of the promise of more emasculating humiliation.  Cindy could tell he was doing as instructed and imagining along with her words.

“We haven’t even talked about your new school.  Think of your new school uniform.  Regulation frilly white panties and white tights.”  She ran her hand down his leg over his skirt and he squealed like a little girl.  “Tights just like you’re wearing now.  A fluffy white petticoat that falls a few inches above your knees.”  She swished his skirts again. He started breathing heavily and held his hand to his stomach, feeling butterflies there. “A pink and white tartan jumper dress over a white blouse with puffed up sleeves and a pink ribbon tie at your collar.  You are a Prissy Princess boy after all, and boys should wear ties,” she giggled. 

“The school is exempt from many school regulations and academic standards because it’s a correctional program for hard to manage little troublemakers like you used to be, Shawna.  But it won’t be anything like a prison. For the first few years, or maybe not so long if you prove a fast learner, your classes are going to be all about how to be the perfect prissy parody of a traditional little girl and nothing else. A perfect Little Miss who acts like an over the top super girly girl aged three to eight.  You’ll learn to play like a little girl.  Won’t it be fun to spend your days playing dollies and house and hop scotch and pattycake?  Spending hours elaborately coloring every single page in every princess coloring book on the market?  Prissy Princess Art Class to teach you how to draw things like that yourself, and you get to draw nothing else?

“Along with that you’ll learn how to do traditional girls work and girls chores like sewing and cooking, how to act like a pretty little maid for Mommy and big sister at home and for the Champion Girls at school? You’ll learn perfect dainty girly penmanship. How to walk, talk, act, and think like a mega girly-girl. Prissy Princess makeup, hair, and fashion classes. Do you want to know what the absolutely most best part is, Little Miss Shawna?” 

She moved in front of him and grabbed both of his hands tightly as he still kept his eyes tightly shut as ordered.  “I’m going to be your teacher!” 

Cindy was extremely bright and was taking many classes way advanced beyond her years. She was even taking some college courses.  She was going to be a doctor one day and was already very interested in psychology and psychiatry.  “I’m getting college credit as a teacher’s aide.  You see, there’s no reason to hire someone full time for now because you’re the first for our new chapter.  You’ll be the only student in your class, for now.  So at least at the start, you’re going to often share a classroom with the Champion Girls.

“The Champion Girls are nothing like the girls from your school, well, maybe there are two who would fit in,” she laughed. “Their uniforms are plain blue pants, plain white shirts, and a plain blue tie. The CGs are more like me.  We’re taught to be courageous, confident, decisive, independent, intelligent.  To be serious and reliable and strong and to keep our emotions in check. To be competitive and to win. Basically the opposite of all your Prissy Princess ABCs.  Your program is going to be like an advanced kindergarten, while theirs is more like a military school. 

“Of course, a Prissy Princess can’t start thinking those kind of Champion Girl ideas for himself and a ditzy Prissy Princess is easily influenced. So during their class times if myself or the two other CG volunteers aren’t there to tutor you privately, the teacher will give you a walkman so you can wear headphones and listen to sweet little girl songs and princess stories and special lectures I will record for you on how you are supposed to behave and act and think, all while you sit in the corner of the classroom and play with your dolls and coloring books.

“Neither class is seperated by age.  Students advance through the program at their own paces.  Some of the very youngest CGs may come and play dollies or pattycake with you, but they’ll quickly learn it makes them a bit of an outcast until they start playing more like the older girls do. Some of the older CGs may play with you, but only because they think of you like a little sister that needs entertaining.  CGs have to be taught to coddle and protect Prissy Princesses, after all, if they are eventually going to marry one. During their gym classes the Prissy Princess class will learn to be cheerleaders for the CGs teams.”  She swished his skirts like they were pom-poms and he squealed again.

“Even at home, our new home on the fenced in school grounds, what will it be like spending every second of free time either doing your chores, and you will have many and you will do them perfectly with a smile on your face the whole time, or playing with things like dolls, tea party sets, and Prissy Princess coloring books? Not being allowed to watch any shows or read any books if they are not appropriate for a traditional juvenile little girl?

“Just think of it, Shawna. Sleeping every night in a Prissy Princess nightgown in a Prissy Princess bed in a Prissy Princess room with a dolly clutched tightly in your arms as you dream your Prissy Princess dreams?