X-Dresser Sissies Issue 5 ~ Pansies in Petticoats

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Carolyn continued, "Chrissy my dear you are probably wondering how I have milk in my breasts. I do have a baby; one of the other maids is looking after him in the servant quarters." Startled, I didn't know what to think. Had she really offered to end all of this? And, more to the point is this I really wanted down deep? Reflecting on all the events of the previous 24 hours, it didn't take long for me to stand and spreading my petticoats and skirt carefully, more gracefully took my seat again. Short Story Writing | Writers | Read Online | Writing Contests | Writing Software | Writing Journals | Writing A Book | Writing A Novel

In a dress and lovely pink panties," grinned his friend's mother. "And just look at your heels, pet. You're... so feminine!"

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No... no I'm not!" he retorted, then remembered Miss Presswell beside him. "I mean... I mean, thank you... Mrs Mitchell. You're very... kind. But please don't tell Gary you saw me here." He had to find a reason which would put her off, because she was looking like she'd got the best bit of gossip in weeks... no, years! "C-Can we keep it a secret, Mrs Mitchell... pleeeeeeease?" But then at supper Sheila asks me what I'm planning to wear to the party. I almost choke. I tell her I'm not going; it’s a party for girls. Carolyn smiled and nodded as she took my nightie and put it on me. She then helped me into my gown and slippers and then took my hand and led me from the room. We entered Aunt Mary's suite and Carolyn led me to the bed. The room was huge and had a huge four-poster bed against one wall. There were heavy velvet curtains, which could be drawn around the bed. At the foot of the bed there was an elaborate entertainment unit with TV, video and music players. Aunt Mary was not yet in the bedroom. Carolyn removed my slippers and gown and then helped me into the bed. I was in the middle of the huge bed. Carolyn went into the suite bathroom after passing me the TV guide and remote controls. She said she was to get changed herself and also help Aunt Mary. Carolyn asked, "And did you like it?" I said that I did and once I had put the nightie on I was determined that the fact I liked it would remain my secret. Now,” said Sheila, “step out of those trousers and boxers – you won’t be needing those for the rest of the day.”

Ooh Carolyn that was just wonderful. You are really mothering me, I can’t remember being so pampered and loved.” I remember the first time I tried on panties – they were a bit big but the feel of them as they slid up my legs was so different from the boy things that I normally had to wear. The way they seemed to cling gently to the skin, hold so nicely rather than merely as a covering between my body and trousers. Just so much nicer. They were soft and smooth and slinky. I could let my fingers touch them and my fingers would glide across the surface. So nice. You know what to say, boy," she said, her face twisted as if she had a slice of lemon in her mouth, and she took the older sissy's hand to wrap Jason's fingers round it, then the other. Their faces were six inches apart, both blushing a deep red. appalling interruption at this point **** my wife read this and was very unaccepting that I was writing stories. Bad enough to want to wear skirts, panties, bras. Worse to actually buy them AND wear them. Bad worse to apparently ‘want to be a woman’ and by implication to deny her woman-ness. Worse still to expose what is in my mind and what must be my desire by writing about it. How could she be married to ‘someone who wanted to be a woman. I’m not a lesbian’ Rather a long way past ‘ooops’. Ghastly.Blushing, I lowered my eyes in embarrassment. “Really dear, you should have been born a girl; wearing pretty dresses is only half the fun.” The gates of the school came into view. “You'd better let me do all the talking, dear. We wouldn't want you to give yourself away.” When did you first try on panties, tights, skirt, dress, bra, high heels. Each of these was a step into the unknown – or perhaps I mean uncertain or not-thought-about. By this time, I had got comfortable with going into shops and buying pants, tights and quite a variety of clothes. I wasn’t yet willing or able or presentable as ambiguous or androgynous. I had grown my hair to my shoulders and it was much better looked after than the average male. Miss Presswell, held Jason by short ribbons so that the ruffles of her bust pressed into the ruffle at his shoulder. "You will help ladies to select pretty lingerie for their sissies and of course you will show suitable feminine sweetness towards any sissies we meet," she said. "A sissyboy always shows the same affection for all sissies, regardless of their age, since they are all sweet little girls by nature."

I’m not a small girl – but I’m not in the Evans Outsize category either. My problem, as with most men wanting to wear pretty feminine clothes, my problem is I’m not really the right shape. I’m much more of a cylinder than I would like. But you really need to learn what your shape is – the younger you are, the more likely it is that there will be clothes suitable for you. I have solidified into middle-aged circumference aided by sloth and sundry lazinesses. I could lose weight – but it doesn’t seem to happen merely by feeble willpower – and I can’t get as involved on a day-to-day basis as many women manage. So, my shape is currently unfaltering. Serena unhooked his bra and he was naked. "Probably that, yeh," she said in a hurry, and stood up as the manageress turned to them.Lowering her head till her face was reflected in the mirror, framed by the pink ruffles highlighting the shoulders of the dress they had me wear, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a squeeze. Ooops, I almost forgot,” exclaimed Carolyn, rushing to the closet once more. After briefly searching, she turned with a small white patent leather clutch and a pair of white glace gloves in her hands. “We can't have you going and forgetting your purse, now can we Christine?” she grinned. The gloves, though snug, fit over my hands, ending just above the wrist in a ruffled lace cuff. In part 3 poor Jason is fastened into a creaming chair for the pleasure of ladies, gentlemen and sissies. For me, there’s not a lot of sexual thrill about each of these – although it does happen at times. The pressure, the inner demand is ‘to wear the clothes’.