HER VERY OWN SISSY

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 8

“One more thing, and then we can begin the demonstration.  Do you know what a nose-pointer is, precious?”

“N-n-no, Misthtwess.”

The beautiful woman laughed.  “Come here, sweetie, and I’ll show you.”

Muffin minced two steps forward as Mrs. Daniels picked up a broom handle with a small metal clip attached to one end.

“Baby, I’m going to screw this little C-clamp onto the cartilage between your nostrils.  Hold still! . . . Hush! . . . Don’t be silly! I didn’t hurt you . . . There!  See?  Sissy’s face is attached to my pointer.  Now darling Muffin must put its face right next to whatever Mistress wants it to see or smell or taste. Just a moment, princess.  I’m going to use a velcro strap to tie sissy’s hands behind its back so they’re safely out of the way.  Now my precious is all set!”

Mrs. Daniels then led the pathetic creature -- by the nose -- around her bathroom and, with the most casual movement of her wrist, was able to direct Muffin’s attention to any particular detail of the fixtures. 

“Look at the hair in the drain of the tub, sissy!  Look at that lint on the bathmat!  Look at the toilet paper roll -- it’s almost empty!”

As the beautiful woman spied each flaw, the poor pixie’s tender nose was tugged in a new direction and made to touch every irregularity that could be found.

“Oh!” said the sissy’s owner in a sudden inspiration.  “I almost forgot!  We didn’t look under the toilet seat, did we, little Muffin?”

“N-n-no, Misthtwess.”

“Down on your pretty knees, sweetie,” said Mrs. Daniels with a descending flick of her lovely wrist.

Poor Muffin dropped in front of the woman’s toilet, bowed its little head and hung its adorable blond curls over the bowl.

“Baby, lift up the toilet seat.”

“I-I-I can’t, Misthtwess.”

“Use your mouth, you stupid pansy!”  The pointer tap-tapped the plastic seat.

Muffin parted its squeamish pink lips, placed them on the forward edge of the seat, and then, stretching its puny neck and moving toward the hinge in back, managed to raise the white oval to the upright position.

“Congratulations, sissy!  You’re making your mistress proud of you!”

Mrs. Daniels then pulled the sissy’s face back in her direction.  The creature’s whimpering mouth was now mere inches from the zipper of the woman’s tight white shorts. Muffin blushed as it breathed in the erotic perfume that Mrs. Daniels had earlier dabbed on her luscious thighs.  The mistress smiled down on her aproned slave with unconcealed self-satisfaction.

“You know, princess, I’m being very good to you.  I am dressing you in the most outrageously femmy clothes that money can buy.  Soon I’ll be sending you out for expensive ballet and etiquette lessons.  And I’m giving you the privilege of serving my daughter, who is without question the most beautiful teen girl in this city.  You do think she’s pretty, don’t you, sissy?”

The effeminate thing blushed hotly and fluttered its long eyelashes.  “Y-y-yesth, Misthtwess.”

“Why, Muffin!  I believe you’re in love with Mandy.  Aren’t you, sissy?  Hmmm?  Answer me!”  The pointer jerked upward.

“Owwww! . . . yesth!”  Sob, sob.  “S-s-she’s sthoooo pwetty!”

“Good, baby.”  Mrs. Daniels used her voice to caress the effeminate slave.  “Then I know our darling won’t mind doing such a little thing as cleaning our toilets to earn the right to be around such a magnificent girl.  It’s really nothing, considering how much you get in return.  I don’t really expect you to enjoy making our toilets nice for us to sit on.  But if you just think about the reward of being around Mandy a lot, the chore will go very quickly for you.  You do understand me, don’t you, sweet sissy?”

“Yesth, Misthtwess,” said the half-terrified, half-mesmerized thing.

Mrs. Daniels smiled.  “Now let me explain something.  Last night my boyfriend spent some time with me and afterwards went tinkle-tinkle in this very toilet.  He’s a good boy and remembered to lift the seat before he piddled, Muffin.  But I’m sorry to say that some of his tinkle splashed on the rim, and he didn’t bother to wipe it off.  Hmmph, men!  Well, now it’s Muffin’s job to make sure Mistress’s toilet is nice and clean again.”

“Yesth, Misthtwess.  Untie me, pwease, and I’ll wipe it weally, weally cwean!”

“Mmmmm, not today, Muffin,” purred Mrs. Daniels as she lightly stroked the fairy’s burning cheek. “Today, we need a demonstration of what happens to a sissy when it neglects a toilet and leaves something nasty behind.  Today, you’re going to clean Mistress’s toilet . . . with your little tongue only!”

“Huh?  Oh, noooo!  Pweeease!  Don’t make me do dat, Misthtwess!  I can’t!”

“Of course you can, precious.  Just close your little eyes, stick out your little tongue, and think of that beautiful girl you’ll be seeing this afternoon! . . . Do as I say, sissy, or I’ll apply Miss Switch to your bare fanny.”

“Ugh!  Pwease don’t make meeeeee.”

We will now take our leave of Mrs. Daniels’s bath chamber.  But if we stand just outside the door, we can hear the sharp whistle of the flailing rattan, the heart-rending cries of the reluctant sissy, and, finally, the soft slurping sounds of a finicky little tongue as it goes about its humiliating task.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 9



Just a few days after Mandy’s birthday, her mother received a phone call from Sissyland Day School announcing that Muffin had been accepted as a new student and would be welcomed to start class the following morning.



Only three years old, the school was already winning praise from sissy enthusiasts as one of the best in the country.  It had been founded by two mini-skirted co-eds who dropped out of the teaching program at the local college, borrowed $100,000 from wealthy relatives, fixed up an old house, and began advertising in the local papers.  “Get the best out of your little-girl sissy,” the ad had promised.  “Full day instruction in poise, maid duties, sewing, singing, tap dance and ballet.  Staffed by two eager and experienced sissy owners. Call 2**-***-****.”



The “eager and experienced sissy owners” were Amy Banner and Rachel Weems.  Amy was a peppy former soccer player with very short light brown hair and a dazzling smile.  Rachel was a willowy, long-haired brunette, sloe-eyed, sultry and temperamental.  Each had acquired her own sissy in junior high and had come to realize that there was no activity more rewarding than feminizing and disciplining creatures that were smaller and weaker than themselves.  They were determined to make a career of training fairies -- or go broke trying.  Fortunately, sales of new sissies was skyrocketing and the young women ended up with more candidates than they could possibly handle.



They had the luxury of accepting only the most maidenly applicants:  delicate things with cute faces, soft skin, trim waists, slender limbs and submissive demeanors.  With that as a starting point, they molded their darlings into creatures that were even more girlish than real girls.  Indeed, the graduates of the Sissyland were comical exaggerations of what a little girl should be.  When Amy and Rachel were done with them, the sissies swished and simpered, pranced and pouted, giggled and gushed as no self-respecting young girl ever would.  When they were done with them, the sissies would never again be seen as real girls but only as absurd caricatures of the feminine.



To eliminate all but the best, Amy and Rachel required the sissy’s owner to remit a $100 non-refundable application fee, complete a 10-page application form, and provide a DVD or videotape of the applicant, shown head-to-toe, reciting a nursery rhyme in sissy clothes, and then reciting it again with no clothes at all.



“Oh, Mrs. Daniels,” gushed the perpetually perky Amy when Mandy’s mother answered the phone.  “I’m so excited for you and Muffin!  Your sissy has been accepted!  I can’t wait to see the little thing in person!  You must know that Rachel and I gave Muffin our highest rating ever!  We can’t wait to get our hands on it!”



Mandy, of course, was thrilled when Mrs. Daniels told her that her frilly toy had been accepted at the best sissy school in the state. The self-indulgent teen girl announced she would celebrate by borrowing her mother’s credit card and taking Muffin shopping for sissy clothes that afternoon.  When the greedy cheerleader was finished, her little black sports car could not hold all the packages of frilly fairy costumes.  She had to order the bulk of them to be delivered to her home by truck.



The following day, while Mandy was in class at Winship Academy, Mrs. Daniels dressed Muffin in one of the ridiculously girlish outfits that her daughter had bought.  It was an outlandishly short yellow dress embroidered with little white ducks.  A stiff tutu petticoat ensured that the skirt would always be parallel to the horizon.  Just below the petticoat was, for all the world to see, a pair of white high-cut briefs -- with a little yellow duck sewn onto the front of the crotch.  A huge yellow hair ribbon, self-supporting yellow stockings and the mandatory white Mary Janes completed the bizarre picture.



“But, Misthtwess, my dwess isth too thort!” whined the little fairy.



“Nonsense, Muffin.  The whole point is to show off those adorable panties with the little ducky.  Now Mandy said this was her very favorite.  And didn’t you say you were in love with Miss Mandy?  Hmmm?  How can you then not want to wear the outfit the girl you love picked out for you?’



Poor Muffin was far too simple-minded to see its way out of this logic.



Mrs. Daniels herself dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, white silk blouse, and gentleman’s necktie.  All very no-nonsense -- except for the fact that the suit’s skirt was ultra-short and tight, and the heels on her shiny black pumps were five inches high.    

 

Minutes later, Mrs. Daniels parked her luxurious red sedan in front of Sissyland Day School, took Muffin by the hand and marched it up the brick walk to the front door.  “Click-click-click” went the sexy woman’s heels on the pavement.  She held the frilly sissy’s hand tightly but the poor creature could barely keep up with her brisk pace.



The bell was answered by a slender woman with long dark hair.  Muffin was thunderstruck.  He was in the presence of a proud, intimidating beauty with mysterious eyes, high cheekbones and sensuously cruel red mouth.  And he was overwhelmed by her attire:  a pale blue stretch mini-dress with a halter neck that flaunted an ample view of her audacious breasts.



“You must be Mrs. Daniels,” said the young woman widening both her smile and the opening in the doorway.  “Welcome to sissy school!  I’m Rachel.”



With one raised eyebrow, the young brunette then turned to Muffin, bent forward and placed her hands on her knees.  Her cleavage deepened and came within inches of the sissy’s button nose.



“And this adorable child must be Muffin.  We’ve heard soooo much about you, baby girl!”



“P-p-pweased to meet you, Missth Wachel,” said the little fairy in yellow, curtseying.



“Well aren’t you just pwecious with your widdle ducky dwessth on.  Quack, quack, widdle thissthy!  Quack, quack, thissthy-wissthy!” she said in jeering baby-talk that sent waves of degradation over the painfully shy Muffin.  “Boy, are we going to have fun with you!”



Muffin turned beet red, and the two women laughed without mercy.



(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 10

Rachel took hold of the sissy’s clammy little hand and led it and Mrs. Daniels across a spacious foyer to the school’s main classroom, where her colleague Amy was supervising the other sissy-students.  The girlish things were sitting by twos in little wooden stools behind small round tables with laminated resin tops.  Childish hands were folded in lacy laps and every eye was fixed on the school’s co-founder, who was explaining how panties should be folded before being placed in a dresser drawer.

Miss Amy was attired in the same clinging blue mini-dress as Miss Rachel.  The stretch fabric caressed her eager bre*sts, flawless round buttocks, and powerful thighs.  As little Muffin gazed at her, it fell hopelessly in love with Amy’s jaunty young body, which was accentuated by the very short cut of her light brown hair

Suddenly Amy noticed the newcomer’s presence, turned in its direction and gave Muffin a full view of her lively eyes, dimpled cheeks and disarming smile.

“Oh, look who’s here!” she exclaimed.  “Good morning, Mrs. Daniels. We are so happy that Muffin is going to be one of our darlings.  And just look at it.  Rachel, have you ever seen anything so cute?” she asked her colleague as she knelt in front of the bashful thing in yellow.

“No, the videotape just didn’t do the sissy justice.  Such great big blue eyes for such a dainty head.”

“And just feel at these soft baby cheeks,” said Amy pinching one.

“And this itsy-bitsy chin.  It’s hardly there at all.”

“Mmmmm,” said Amy as she hugged the frilly creature.  “I want to take it home with me!”  Muffin held its breath as its own scrawny chest was cushioned by Amy’s magnificent young bre*sts. 

Amy looked up to Mrs. Daniels and asked with a wink, “You will let me take your adorable home with me?”

Mrs. Daniels smiled and shook her beautiful light brown curls.  “I’m afraid Sissy Muffin is the property of my daughter, a very headstrong teenage girl.  At this time she’s not ready to share her precious toy with anyone.”

Rachel laughed.  “It’s just as well.  Amy already owns three sissies, and they’re all insanely jealous of one another.”

Reluctantly, Amy stood up and directed her attention back to her class.  “Attention, girlies!  Look what we have!  This is our newest little sissy!  Won’t you please give a great big Sissyland welcome to little Muffin!”

At this command Amy’s tamed, effeminate pupils rose from their stools to clap primly and cheer in tiny voices.  Every one of the sissies was deliciously feminine, slim, soft and modest. Every one could easily pass as a petite junior-high girl. But Mrs. Daniels inwardly gloated as she surveyed the eight other pansies.  Pretty as the Sissyland students were -- and as adorably dressed as they were -- none compared with her own Muffin, with its flawless six year-old’s face, childish frame, and comical squeaky lisp.

“Now, girlies,” said Rachel as she joined Amy at the center of the room.  “Let’s get into our kissy line to meet and greet little Muffin.”

The sissies obediently formed a semi-circle and stood at attention with their girlish feet together and their lovely hands clasped behind their backs.  Amy took Muffin by the shoulders and brought it to the center of the group.

“This is how you’re going to get to know your classmates, honey.  I want you to hold your pretty hands behind your back, walk up to each little sissy in the row, lean forward and then give it a nice sweet kiss on the lips.  Can you do that for me, precious?” said Amy with a heartbreaking smile and a caress of the sissy’s chest.

“It’s just like this,” said Rachel as she approached the first sissy in the line.  The sexy woman placed her hands behind her back and bent forward.  The blue fabric of her mini-dress tightened over her magnificent buttocks. She tossed back her dark hair and placed her deep red lips on the mouth of the first sissy and lingered there for a few seconds before standing straight again.  The student she demonstrated on blushed hotly and licked its pink lips.   

The sultry woman then looked at Muffin over her bare shoulder and said, “Then you curtsey and tell the sissy your name.”  The teacher turned back to the first student in line, curtseyed and said in a faux-sissy voice, “Helwo, my name isth Muffin.  I’m pweased to meet you.”

At this cruel parody, all the sissies in the room -- with the notable exception of the newest member -- burst into giggles.  Muffin bit its lip and fought back tears.

Amy clapped her hands to restore order.  “Behave yourselves, girlies.  Now it’s your turn, Muffin.”

“B-b-but I can’t,” squeaked the little fairy in its ridiculous ducky dress.  “I-I-I never ever kissthed a boy.”

Rachel approached the reluctant sissy with one raised eyebrow.  “Don’t be a silly baby. Look at those creatures in their sweet dresses and stockings.  They’re not boys.  They’re sissies -- just like you!  In any case, you’ll soon learn that sissies kiss boys all the time.  And do other things to please them too.  It seems you have a lot to learn.”

Finally, Mrs. Daniels walked up to Muffin, grabbed it by the chin and put her beautiful face very close to it.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, sweetie.  Do you want me to show the class how naughty sissies are punished in our house?”

Muffin took a deep breath, straightened its shoulders and began mincing toward the pupil at the top of the line.  Sissyland’s newest student then placed its hands behind its back, swallowed hard and closed its eyes.  Slowly it began to lean forward . . . but in the crunch all its courage evaporated.  Little Muffin burst into tears and ran toward the door.

But Amy was too quick.  In an instant the powerful young woman had the blubbering fairy back at center stage and facing the class again.

“May I trouble you for a switch, Rachel?” asked Mrs. Daniels, her fists resting on the hips of her very short pin-stripe skirt.  “And, Amy, will you be so kind as to lower Muffin’s little ducky panties for me?”

“With pleasure!” said the beautiful woman with the light brown pixie cut.  Her strong young hands reached inside the lacy waistband of the fairy’s underpants and yanked downwards.

“Oh, Rachel, come here!  I want to show you something hilarious!”           

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 11

After Muffin was thoroughly switched, the poor thing still had to go down the line of adorable sissies and kiss each one’s pretty lips.  Of course, naughty Muffin was not allowed to raise its little ducky panties from ankle level, so the brat made a very amusing sight as it shuffled from one fairy to another, bending forward for a kiss and pushing out its little red-striped bottom for all to see.  The tearful creature went the rounds, kissing Sissy Kitty, Sissy Bitsy, Sissy Fancy, Sissy Bunny, Sissy Patsy, Sissy Mincy, Sissy Sassy and Sissy Shortcake.  Afterwards, the pathetic thing had to put its little nose in a corner and remain there with panties down until lunch hour.  As its time in isolation passed, the miserable bare-bottomed pansy could hear it being whispered and snickered about among the other Sissyland pupils.  And occasionally a teacher would make a caustic reference to the wayward thing. 

Miss Rachel would say, “Pay attention, girlies.  You don’t want to end up with a your little fanny switched and shown off to everyone, do you?” 

Or Miss Amy would say,  “Keep your darling panties clean, sissies.  You never know when your mistress might make you take them down in front of a crowd.”

Of course, such comments provoked a riot of giggles from the effeminate students.

At lunch-time, Muffin was restored to good graces and its panties raised to full mast again. The new pupil and its classmates were given a meal of tea and sandwiches, along with a lecture about how to serve and how to eat like proper young ladies.  Much was made of taking tiny bites, dabbing one’s pouty mouth with just a corner of the napkin, using only the tips of fingers to handle food, cups and utensils, using as few fingers as possible, and extending into the air any fingers that were not being used.

Later in the afternoon a beautiful but solemn blond woman named Miss Cristina arrived to conduct the school’s ballet lessons.  She removed her raincoat to show breathtakingly muscular legs in white tights and a magnificently sculpted torso packed into a snug black thong leotard.

“Hurry, little sissies!” she said in a voice faintly accented.  “Get into those pretty ballet clothes.  And it’s spankies for any girlie who’s late!”

With a rush of little shoes tapping across the floor, the fairies made a beeline for the cloakroom.  But poor Muffin could only stare at the stranger in her breathtaking outfit.  The frail thing was especially bewitched by the way Miss Cristina’s white tights hugged the contours of her strong buttocks on either side of the leotard’s slender thong.   He desperately wanted the vigorous woman to hold him against her perfect body.

Suddenly the goddess took notice of him and laughed.  “Well, what are you waiting for, Ducky Pants?  Do you want me to change you myself?  If I have to do it, you’ll wish you never met me!”

“Hurry, Muffin,” said Miss Amy, anxiously intervening.  “Miss Cristinia means business!”   

And regaining its senses Muffin trotted down to the cloakroom.  There the sissies were excitedly changing into their little pink leotards, white tights and pink slippers.  What a precious covey of fairies they made!  Whispering and giggling, they minced on little tippy-toes down the hall to the gymnasium. 

Sissy Bunny whose long blond hair nearly touched its buttocks was the school’s most accomplished dancer.  It generously offered to show Muffin the basics.

Poor Muffin strained to twist its teeny body into each of the positions that the lithe and limber Bunny demonstrated.  But the new sissy’s awkward little limbs refused to be commanded into the proper shape.   

Later when the beautiful, imperious Miss Cristina came to see Muffin’s progress, she found fault with everything about the beginner’s Plié, and corrected Muffin with a quick slap on the back of its thigh.  Of course, this is precisely where the naughty fairy’s mistress had earlier applied the stinging switch -- and Muffin howled in agony. 

“Oh what a baby you are!” Miss Cristina frowned in her sexy black leotard, not knowing that the ringleted pansy’s bottom had already been rigorously chastised that morning.  “Get those heels together and knees apart!”  Slap!

“Owwwww!”

“That was only the mildest of taps, my dear.  If you don’t get into the correct position instantly, you’ll get much worse from my hand.”  Slap!!

“Pwease, I-I-I’m twying stho hard.”

“Not enough for me, my dear.  Keep your toes out!”  Slap!!!

Of course, none of the other sissies bothered to tell the beautiful, bitchy Miss Cristina about naughty Muffin’s sore bottom -- not even the ostensibly kind Sissy Bunny.  And each time the stern ballet mistress struck the dainty seat of Muffin’s pink leotard, its classmates tittered with glee.

What Miss Cristina did perceive was how fragile a creature Muffin was, how it quaked in her presence, how adorably it boo-hooed when she swatted its puny derrière.  And how its tearful blue eyes nonetheless worshipped her form.  Afterwards, she admitted to herself that she probably spent more time perfecting the new sissy’s Plié than was merited, but she realized that being able to induce a freshet of hot tears from the pretty fairy with the merest stroke of her hand stirred her blood somehow.  She could only imagine how the ridiculous creature would respond to the crack of her snakewhip.  Surely a new student would benefit from private lessons in her home.  Perhaps a one-on-one weekend workshop when Cristina’s live-in boyfriend was out of town.  She would make the prissy thing shriek in agony and then muffle its cries between her legs. She made a mental note to ask Rachel for the name and phone number of the brat’s owner.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 12

Later that afternoon, the sissies were back in their frilly dresses for music lesson. To Miss Amy’s piano accompaniment, they sang “Do Re Me,” “Hush Little Baby,” and “Let’s All Sing Like the Birdies Sing.”  Amy complimented Sissy Muffin’s pure, sweet voice and asked if it had a favorite song.  Muffin curtsied and sang  “Rock-A-Bye-Baby” solo.  The class applauded with genuine respect, for no other sissy could hit such high notes.

After music lesson, Amy and Rachel had a brief, whispered conversation and Rachel announced, “Sissies, it’s time to announce the Girlie of the Day.”
 
An excited hush fell over the room.  Miss Rachel explained that today’s most attentive and best-behaved child would be taken to the teachers’ private office and given a special “sissy treat.”

All eyes fell on Rachel as she revealed the winner. “For outstanding performance in housekeeping, serving and ballet, today’s special girlie is . . . Sissy Shortcake!”

The cute redhead put its little hands to its face and jumped up and down screaming.  Of course, the other sissies were deeply disappointed, but applauded politely.

Rachel turned to her colleague.  “I gave the treat yesterday.  Would you like to do the today’s honors, Amy?”

“Mmmmm, you know I’d loooove to, especially with a darling like Sissy Shortcake.”  The lively young woman in the stretch mini-dress got up from the piano bench and took the Girlie of the Day by the hand.

As the honored child was led to its reward, Rachel announced the last lesson was to be on manicures and passed out emery boards to her frilly pupils.  Under her strict supervision, the sissies bent to their task of shaping and smoothing their dear little fingernails.

Only a moment had gone by when Muffin put down the file and raised its tiny hand.

“What is it, Sissy Muffin?” asked Rachel with a trace of irritation.

“Pwease, I have to go tinkle.”

“Little ninny!” taunted the beautiful brunette in the tight blue dress.  “Why didn’t you go when the girlies were changing out of their ballet outfits?”

“I’m stho sthowwy.  I didn’t have to tinkle den.”

Rachel sighed with exasperation, making her magnificent breasts exert themselves against the hugging fabric of the halter-top.  “Oh well . . . let’s see.  Sissy Sassy, will you be Muffin’s tinkle partner?”

At Sissyland, no pupil was permitted to go to the washroom alone.  It had to walk there holding hands with another sissy.  This buddy system, combined with big rewards for reporting misdeeds, ensured that no pansy out of teacher’s sight could play with itself.

“Yes, Miss Rachel,” said the obedient sissy with long auburn bangs and pigtails.  It took Muffin’s hand and led it to the restroom.

Along the way, the two sissies passed the closed door of the teachers’ office. From behind the door came the sound of a grunting animal.  “Unnnnhhhh!  Unnnnhhhh! Unnnnhhhh!”

“What’sth that noisthe?” asked Muffin stopping and holding Sassy’s hand tighter.

“Don’t worry, Sissy Muffin, that’s just Sissy Shortcake having its sissy treat,” said darling Sassy, who was dressed in a cute pink and white striped dress.

“Unnnnhhhh!  Unnnnhhhh!  Unnnnhhhh!” came the bestial utterances from the room.

“B-b-but it can’t be Sthortcake making that sthound!”

“No, silly,” said the patient pansy shaking its pretty auburn braids.  “That’s Miss Amy.  You see, a sissy treat is when you get to go down on your knees and put your face under a teacher’s skirt.  It’s like a kiss.  Only lower down.”

Muffin’s face burned at the thought of such intimate contact with one of Sissyland’s beautiful women.  “But why doesth Missth Amy make sthuch a sthound?  It musth hurt her.”

“Oh no, Miss Amy loves to give sissy treats! Sometimes she gets excited and clenches her legs so tight, I think my head’ll crack!”

“That’sth sthcary.”

“Mmmm, it’s nice, really.  She always strokes my hair and tells me what a good sissy I am.  I guess I’d rather get my treat from her than Miss Rachel.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.  Ms. Rachel is shaved down there and easy to lick, but she is soooo picky.  And if my tongue doesn’t do it just right, she digs her high heels into my butt and pinches my ears.”

Muffin, its tiny mind whirling, was about to ask another question when the two sissies were interrupted by a woman’s shrill voice.

“What are you two stupid fairies doing there?  Weren’t you supposed to go tinkle five minutes ago?”  Miss Rachel was standing at the end of the hall, hands on her tightly clad hips and a furious look darkening her beautiful face.  “You’ve both just earned yourselves demerits on your daily report!”

The two scolded sissies hurried off towards the restroom.  However, Muffin could not help but steal a glance back at Miss Rachel and her shiny black heels.  The poor thing wondered with terror and fascination what devastating effect those sharp heels could have on his dainty rear end.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 13

An hour later Mandy arrived at Sissyland Day School to pick up her petticoated toy.  Having just left cheerleading practice, Mandy was still breathy from exercise, her face rosy and glistening.  A strand of blond hair had come loose from her braids and was hanging over one tawny eyebrow.  Sissy Muffin had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Mandy laughed to find her plaything in its ridiculously short yellow dress and bared white panties with a little yellow duck sewn just above the crotch. 

“Let’s go, Ducky Pants!”  she said in a voice loud enough for all the students and teachers to hear.

Muffin forgot everything it had learned about girlish mincing and ran to take Mandy’s hand.  Today the pathetic sissy had suffered an overdose of pain and humiliation.  It wanted only to be carried away -- and as quickly as possible.  However, the beautiful teen girl reminded Muffin of its manners and made it wave “bye-bye” to everyone before leading it outside.  Then she sat her frilly pet in her shiny black sports car, buckled it in, and roared off down the street.

“Did you miss me, little fairy?” she asked with a smug sideways glance.

“Oh, yessth, Mith Mandy, I’m soooo gwad to sthee you!”

“First day at sissy school!  What a big event for my baby!  Maybe we should celebrate with a little snack before going home.  Would you like that, princess?”

The petticoated creature beamed.  If only this golden girl could love her living doll half as much as it loved her! “Oh, yessth!  Thank you, Missth Mandy!”

In a few minutes the haughty teen girl guided the coupe into the parking lot of Route 66, a popular, retro-style burger restaurant.

“Are we going insthide, Missth Mandy?” asked the sissy as its seatbelt was taken off.

“Of course, Ducky Pants!  So you better be at your sissy best behavior.  Make sure you take little-girlie, tippy-toe steps when you walk.  Keep your hands above your waist with your wrists limp.  Hold your nose up in the air like you’re proud of your sissy self.  And don’t forget to wiggle your pretty little fanny so everyone can see what a saucy little pansy you are!”

Before Muffin could object, the assertive cheerleader had pulled it out of the car and was leading to the restaurant door.

“And if you’re very good,” she added with a tilt of her lovely head, “I might just forget to show your Sissyland daily report to Mommy.  She won’t be at all pleased with your failing marks.”

As Muffin was taken inside, it wanted to hold down its petticoat-lifted yellow dress but the pathetic creature had already been admonished to keep its little hands above its waist.  As a result, everyone in its path got a view of the fairy’s childish panties with the yellow ducky sewn to the bulge of its crotch.  As the cheerleader and her sissy crossed the crowded room, Muffin’s face burned at the whistles and whispers of “Little Ho’ Peep,” “baby tart,” and “duck slut.”  Mandy, however, was thrilled, dropping her mouth open in delight at the inventiveness of some of the insults.

Instead of taking one of the window booths near the door, the pigtailed teen dragged her frilly toy to an empty table in the center of the room.  Having a sissy made her noticed.  And Mandy loved being noticed.   She reached under little Muffin’s arms and boosted it onto a chrome and red vinyl stool.  Then the sexy girl in her short cheerleader’s skirt hopped onto the stool next to it.

“Isn’t this fun, sissy?” she said with a cute wiggle of her young body.

“Y-yesth, Misth Mandy.”

“You’d better like it because I plan to take you out a lot, Muffy.  Like when I go shopping for myself, or play tennis at the country club, or go out with a bunch of friends to see a movie.  Mommy said she’s even going to have a little cheerleader costume made for you.  It will be just like mine, but have a very, very short skirt appropriate for a little fairy like you!  She said she’ll dress you in it and take you to the football games so you can see what me and the other big cheerleaders do.”

A waitress came and took Mandy’s order for a large plate of fries, a diet cola and a kid-sized strawberry milk shake.

“You see, precious,” continued the sissy’s owner in a sugarcoated voice,  “The more you go out, the more that cute guys get to see you, and the better your chances of getting asked out on a date!”

“But I don’t wanna do dat!” squeaked the little thing in petticoats.

“Why not, little f-ggot?” said Mandy with mock disappointment.  “Don’t you like cute boys?”

“Noooo!  And I’m not a f-f-f-ggot!” whined Muffin as it squirmed on the tall stool.

“Mmmm, I don’t know about that, Muffy.”  The cheerleader sighed and rested her pretty chin on her hand.  “Let’s see.  You wear ribbons in your hair, pink polish on your nails, and lace on your little panties.  And, according to what Mommy told me over the phone, this morning you kissed eight different boys!  On the lips!  Now really, prissy pants, if someone with a p-nis puts on little girls' clothes and goes around kissing lots of boys, what’s the word for it -- if not f-ggot?”

“I’m not a f-ggot!” screamed the frustrated sissy, kicking its little white Mary Janes against the legs of its stool. “I’m not a f-ggot!”

In response to this outcry, a group of junior high girls at a nearby table burst into laughter.  Sissy Muffin, suddenly realizing how utterly absurd it looked, acted and sounded, surrendered to a flood of hot tears.  It tried to cover its miserable face with its small hands, but it was clear from the way its pathetic shoulders shook that the feminized thing was bawling like a baby.

Mandy tingled all over.  She had reduced her plaything to abject misery -- and with words alone!  The excitement of having such power over a creature was almost more than she could stand.  If she crossed her legs now she knew that she would bring herself to an immediate and spectacular climax.  But she must wait.  This was just the start of her lovely plan.  The main event was about to begin.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 14



Soon the waitress returned with their order.  Mandy insisted on tucking a napkin into her little sissy’s collar before it could eat.  She also commanded the childish thing to hold its kiddie milkshake with both hands when it took a sip.  Smiling to herself about how easily the fairy could be bossed around, Mandy then picked up a plastic bottle of ketchup with a  nozzle top and proceeded to decorate the pile of hot French fries in front of her.



Poor, humiliated Muffin had lost all interest in food and drink.  It felt every eye in the restaurant on its tearful face and scantily clad body.  It knew its foolish outburst had only earned it more attention, more laughter, more contempt from the crowd of diners.



Mandy gloated as she put a strip of fried potato between her incomparable lips.  She would push her pantied plaything to ever-lower levels of degradation.  But at each stage she would pause to savor the moment.  After each humiliating trap was sprung, she would sit back to watch the sissy squirm and blush and boo-hoo-hoo.  Then she would patronizingly offer a kind word, dry its baby tears, allow it to recover -- only to devise another, more terrible humiliation for the next round.



“Oh, c’mon, Muffy, don’t sit there and sulk!  You know I’ve been looking forward to seeing my adorable little fairy all day long!  All I could think about was spending time with sissy Muffin.  You know what?  When we get home, you’ll do your sissy chores . . . and then we’ll put on our nighties . . . and then you can sit on my bed with me!  And we’ll talk and . . . brush each other’s hair and . . . rub nice, pretty-smelling lotion on each other’s bodies!  Won’t that be fun, baby-doll?”



At this invitation, the sulky sissy’s spirits soared.  It could imagine no glory greater than sitting close to the magnificent teen girl, touching her, and having her soft hands caress its own vibrant little body.  It wanted nothing more than to be her little bedtime toy.



“Oh yesth, Missth Mandy!  Thank you, sthoooo much!  I’m sthowwy I acted like a widdle baby!”



“Good.  Now as soon as we finish these fries we can leave.  Since you apologized, I’ll tell Mommy that you were a little angel on the way home.  And I won’t mention anything about your bad daily report from Sissyland.  I’ll even ask Mommy if you can skip some of your chores since it’s been such a hard day for you.”



Little Muffin squealed with delight and stuffed a French fry into its tiny mouth.



“Did you see the pretty ceiling, sweetie?”  the girl asked casually, pointing to the restaurant’s blue dome with painted clouds.  “Doesn’t it look just like the sky?  You know, Muffy, if you lean back, you might just see a little airplane up there.  Do you see it, baby?  Up there.  Lean further back.”



The poor, trusting sissy did as it was told, its big blue eyes searching the high dome for the little airplane.  But try as it might, the effeminate thing saw nothing but painted clouds.



“Spppluuuurrrrrt!”



Suddenly Muffin felt something cold and wet on its little crotch.  The pathetic thing looked down, peered over the hem of its short, short yellow dress and saw that the front of its white panties was covered in ketchup!  There was so much of the thick red liquid that even the yellow ducky was no longer visible!



Muffin glanced up at Mandy.  The teen girl’s perfect face was gazing back with the most innocent of expressions.  But between her lovely knees she was holding the ketchup squirt bottle.  The nasty red nozzle was pointed directly at Muffin’s girlish panties.  A final glob of liquid dripped from the nozzle’s hard red tip.



“Well, for goodness sake, Muffy,” she said in a calm, detached voice, “look what happened.  You’ve gotten ketchup all over your brand new sissy outfit.  Dear me.  Don’t you know, Mommy will be furious?  Can you imagine what she’ll do to you if she finds out those brand new sissy panties are ruined?”



The heavens came crashing down on Muffin’s sunny mood.  All of the sweet pleasures the girl had promised were now scattered by the impending storm.  The pathetic sissy’s big blue eyes flooded with tears.



“But why, Missth Mandy?” sobbed the heartbroken fairy.  “I didn’t do it.  You sthquirted the ketthup at me!”



“Don’t  be such a stupid little f-ggot,” snapped the snooty girl with a toss of her pigtails.  “I was just trying to put ketchup on the fries.  If you hadn’t been squirming and shaking the table, none of this would have happened.  I’m sorry I even bothered to give you this special treat!”



Muffin could only bow its blond ringlets in shame.



“We’re outta here,” Mandy said, laying a ten spot on the table and snatching her disgraced plaything off the stool.  “I’m marching you to the ladies’ room to see if the awful mess you caused can be repaired.  If not, your little white f-ggot a-- is going to pay when we get home!”



To the accompaniment of snickers from the approving crowd, the soiled sissy was unceremoniously escorted to the women’s restroom.  Mandy pushed her way through the big pink door, strode purposefully to the bank of wash basins and mirrors, and ordered Sissy Muffin to peel off its girlish panties.  The abashed pansy very carefully pulled the still-dripping underpants down over its pretty stockings and shoes.  Mandy turned on the cold water faucet.



“Now scrub your little girlie pants, f-ggot,” spat the malevolent girl.  “Make sure you get all of that sissy mess out.  This is what happens to flirty little queers who show themselves off in their little ‘f--k me’ outfits and then find out too late that they’ve got a big, nasty, sticky problem in their skimpy little panties.”



The haughty teen’s words lacerated the feminized creature.  It sobbed and its childish tears flowed into the white basin along with the tap water.



(To be continued)