From alt.sex.stories.tg Tue Jun 11 23:49:34 1996 Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!news.i-link.net!usenet ~~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg ~~Organization: I-Link ~Lines: 666 Message-ID: qowuxY5fatlS090yn@i-link.net ~Reply-To: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: austin-2-16.i-link.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now.
MELISSA.TXT
"Missy, come into the living room. We have guests." The demure, girlish form standing in the foyer heard the words coming through the closed doors to the room. Missy looked at her image in the mirror on the wall and saw a person she hardly recognized. Well, she recognized herself, but the reflection was not what she was used to seeing by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps if she was lucky, the visitors with her Aunt on the other side of the door would not recognize her either. She raised a well manicured hand to the side of her head, patted a curl into place, and couldn't help but notice how natural the feminine motion appeared. The thought sent a shiver up her spine.
Missy quickly reviewed her appearance in the full length mirror. She wore a tea length, white chiffon dress with a circle skirt that fell in soft folds over her moderately full petticoat. Her ankles peeked out below the hem of the dress through blush pink hose, and she stood on white leather pumps with four inch heels. Her hair was worn below the shoulders, falling in soft curls around her face, with straight bangs across her forehead, providing a piquant, juvenile look. Missy was examining her perfect makeup, which she herself had put on earlier that day, when the voice of her aunt came through the door again.
"Missy, I said come into the living room, and I meant it." Aunt Mary's voice was more urgent and Missy realized she had delayed too long before the mirror. She twirled on her heels, her skirt swirling about her legs, and in the sweet feminine walk which she had been learned over the past summer, Missy minced to the door and opened it to join her aunt and the guests for tea.
As she entered the room Missy only saw her Aunt Mary clearly. The guests were seated in two wingback chairs facing the sofa from which Aunt Mary had just risen. "Missy, when I call to you I expect you to respond promptly, do you understand, young lady?" Missy halted abruptly, concerned that lingering in the foyer had made her aunt angry. "Yes ma'am, I'm very sorry. It won't happen again," Missy answered demurely, hoping to appease her aunt's temper.
"Well don't just stand there child," continued Aunt Mary, "We have guests." Missy took her cue and once again began to walk towards her aunt and the two wingback chairs. She swished around the chairs to join Aunt Mary, turning towards the guests. Missy's Stepmother and stepsister rose from the chairs in unison to greet her, each wearing a smile that would light up the darkest night. Missy's blood raced and she could feel a warm flush spreading over her cheeks as her Stepmother moved forward to greet her. "Missy, you look so pretty today. Are you glad to see us?" she asked. The young girl curtsied reflexively and responded in the affirmative. Her hands now clasped together behind her back, Missy bent forward slightly at her tightly corsetted waist, so as to give her Stepmother a peck on the cheek. "Yes Mother, its very nice of you to come visit me," she softly replied. Missy's stepsister, Amanda, a year younger than Missy at fifteen, yet appearing several years older at the moment, chimed in. "What about me, little sister, don't I get a kiss too?" Missy blushed further at this invitation, and slowly walked forward to lean towards Amanda and kiss her cheek. Aunt Mary directed Missy to a straight back chair strategically placed so that the others all had a clear view of it's occupant. In a gracefull manner she grasped her skirts and fluffed them out as she seated herslf.
Her Stepmother spoke again. "Have you had a pleasant stay dear?" "Yes Mother. Aunt Mary has been very kind to me," she responded automatically." "That's nice," her Mother continued. "Well the summer is over and its time to get you back to school. We've come to take you home." At this comment Missy was noticably startled. "We. . . I'm going ho. . . home?" she inquired. The thought of returning home, with all of its implications, was something Missy was unprepared to deal with. She stared down at the deep red polish on her inch long nails and thought of an earlier time, three months ago. ================================================================
Michael opened the kitchen screen door and let is slam with a bang behind him. It was the last day of school and his bounding walk reflected his enthusiasm for the summer aheaad. But he wasn't very enthusiastic about another part of his life. His father had recently remarried, the most immediate consequence of which was that he had a new Stepmother, and a stepsister, Amanda. His Stepmother was an attractive woman, several years younger than his father. She was a good deal more of a disciplinarian than Mike was used to, however. As for Amanda, he could do without her entirely. Mike had known her since he was in grade school; both Amanda and her mother had lived in his town for years. She was always a spoiled bitch, and the fact that puberty had endowed her with sufficient assets to make her the envy of every girl in town had only exacerbated it. The boys in town predictably fawned over her, and she loved it. The combination of all these facts made her truely insufferable.
The door slammed and his Stepmother's footsteps could shortly be heard coming from the living room. She came into the kitchen and immediately berated him. "Michael, how many times do I have to tell you that doors do not slam in this house! I am entertaining guests in the other room and you've embarassed me before them." Mike stared at this incomprehensible woman, thinking her next edict would be no breathing allowed. "And those shoes," she added. "Take them off this instant. They're filthy and you'll track mud all over the house." He kicked the shoes off into the corner of the entranceway and shrugged his shoulders as he went to go up to his bedroom.
"Where do you think you're going young man? I'm speaking to you," his Stepmother demanded. Mike turned back to her and muttered, "I'm sorry. I won't slam the door again," and quickly turned to go upstairs. "Stop right there," she ordered. "I'm not going to put up with your insolent attitude any longer. Stay in you're room until I call for you." She turned on her heels and left to regoin her guests. Michael went upstairs convinced that his stepmother was mad. The sounds from her gathering filtered up to his room. They seemed to be celebrating something. No matter. He would speak to his father about it and end this nonsense.
But that was part of his problem also. His father had been called away on business several months before. At first the trip was supposed to be only a few weeks, but it later turned into an indefinite assignment. In his father's absence, his Stepmother had become increasingly autocratic, and Amanda had become absolutely intolerable. It got to the point where he simply avoided them as much as possible. Whenever Michael was around his Stepmother she was constantly demeaning him and criticizing his behavior. Amanda treated him with scorn, always taunting him about his small size, saying that any girl who was interested in him must be a lesbian. Complaining about Amanda to her mother was useless; Amanda would always find some way to twist the facts around and make it appear as if Michael were in the wrong.
The sounds from the party had quieted and his Stepmother finally appeared to deliver another of her inevitable lectures. She had waited until he returned from taking a shower, and when she entered he was clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. She advised in a firm tone that she was not going to put up with his rudeness and bad manners any further. So long as his father was absent she was responsible for his upbringing, and his failure to respond to any reasonble guidance measures to date were going to change immediately. With that she led him from his room to the newly decorated guest bedroom.
Mike knew the room was being renovated but was unaware of her exact plans, and was surprised to find it so elaborately furnished. The room was done in pastels, predominantly pink, and seemed to him to be extremely feminine. Lace curtains, a canopy bed, and a deep shag rug overwhelmed the room. She spoke again he had an opportunity to take in the surroundings. "You'll be staying in here for the weekend. I'm locking your room so that you will not be tempted to disobey me again." Mike stared at her, baffled. Why should he have to stay here? And what was he supposed to wear if he couldn't return to his room?
His questions were shortly answered. "I've had this room specially remodeled. It is designed to perform one task: to teach you how to live like a civilized human being." With that she snatched the towel from around his waist, leaving him stark naked. Mike quickly threw his hands over his privates and dashed behind a chair, desperately seeking some form of modesty. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Give me my towel back right now!" He tried to sound assertive but realized that his words were having no effect. His Stepmother just stood there with his towel, in complete control, and he knew it. "Please . . . ?" he offered with a second thought, hoping to placate this apparantly mad woman.
"No," she replied. "As I said before, you are going to learn to be a civilized human being, and the lessons start right now. You have already amply demonstrated that you are an uncouth young man, absolutely incapable of proper behavior, especially towards ladies and girls. Accordingly, you will begin this evening to learn a little about what ladies and girls are all about." Mike was having a difficult time following her. The bit about his conduct towards girls and women was incomprehensible. If anything, he was constantly oppressed by them, not the other way around. And this "learning" about females was equally indecipherable. For the life of him, he could not figure this woman out.
His Stepmother walked to the door and tossed his towel out into the hall. She then closed the door and locked it with a key. "What are you doing? I'm standing here naked and you threw my towel out the door," exclaimed Mike. "That's right, because there are already plenty of things in here for you to wear," his Stepmother replied. With that she walked over to the large dresser dominating one wall of the room and began to remove clothing for Mike from the drawers. She pulled out a pair of pink, lace trimmed panties, a matching garter belt and stockings, and a pink sleeveless undershirt, or vest, trimmed with lace at the neckline and sleeves. She spread these garments out on the bed with great ceremony, and stood back, turning to look at the astonished boy.
"There, now put those on and I'll find the rest of your clothes for this evening," she stated in a matter of fact tone. "What do you mean put those on. They're girl's clothes. I'm not wearing them." Michael again tried to be firm in his reply but his voice betrayed his fear that he might indeed have to wear the feminine articles. His Stepmother ignored him and walked over to the large, walk-in closet. She opened the door and took a switch from a hook hanging inside. Turning towards the cowering boy hiding behind the chair she swung the rod through the air as if to test it. "You'll begin to dress immediately or you will certainly regret it," she threatened. Forgetting for a moment his naked state, Michael dashed to the door only to find it securely locked. His Stepmother took immediate advantage of his now defenseless position and moved quickly towards him, slashing with the birch and catching him squarely on his exposed bottom. Michael was caught by surprise and slumped to the floor in a foetal position, as if to protect himself from her further assault.
"Get over to that bed right now and start getting dressed or you'll think what you just felt was a love tap!" his Stepmother commanded. He immediately jumped to his feet and ran to the bed in order to avoid any further blows. "I . . . I don't know how to put them on," he stammered.
"I don't know how to put them on," she mocked. "Pick up the garter belt and wrap it around your waist you stupid twit," she directed. Michael did as he was told and she fastened the garter belt securely at this waist. He stared down at the lingerie around his body uncomprehendingly. He started to protest again and was met with another swat on his still bare buttocks. "Shut up. You're going to learn that properly behaved young ladies do not speak back to their superiors. And I AM your superior. Now sit down on the bed."
In short order, his stepmother drew the pink tinted hose up his legs and fastened them to the garters. The vest was drawn over his head and the panties up over his legs. Ordered to stand, he felt the strange sensation of the stockings pulling on his garters. Stepmother walked over to the closet and came back with two more garments that sent chills through Michael's body. He wanted to shout out his protests, but knew they would be futile.
His Stepmother approached and draped the pink taffeta dress over a chair so that she could place the full, white starched petticoat over his head. After adjusting the shoulder straps, she reached for the juvenile party dress and held it out in front of the cowed and confused boy. "Isn't this a sweet dress dear?" she inquired teasingly. Michael didn't know what to say. He knew he would be wearing the frilly, girlish attire shortly, but was too overwhelmed to know what to say. And he definitely did not want to say the wrong thing. "I asked you if the dress was SWEET!" she insisted. "Yes, mother, it is sweet," he mumbled. She smiled, and proceeded to drape the dress over his shoulders and down his body. As she buttoned it up the back, Michael couldn't help but notice how short the skirt seemed, and how much the petticoat puffed it out about his thighs.
In short order his Stepmother placed pink lace trimmed anklets and black mary janes on his feet, adding to his youthful, girlish appearance. Her task was completed as she brushed out his longish blonde hair and secured a matching pink ribbon bow at the rear. He was again directed to sit on the bed and waited as his Stepmother walked to the vanity and returned with several items of makeup. Michael had yet to see a mirror and view his image, but he had no desire to do so. He wanted to even less after she finished applying his makeup, including blusher, mascara, and lipstick, to his fair features. She sprayed the petticoated boy with perfume, and, finally satisfied with his effeminate appearance, told him to stand, and addressed him again.
"Now, Michael. . . it seems funny calling you that now that you are dressed so nicely. I'll have to think of something else. . . . Anyway, you're to follow me and remeber to behave yourself. You don't speak unless spoken to, and you certainly don't act like the nasty brat that you've been since I became a part of this household." With that she walked out of the room and left the door open for him to follow. He hesitated at first, but then obeyed and walked along behind her, the skirt and petticoats bobbing and swishing strangely against his stockinged legs.
The house was quiet as he walked slowly behind her down the stairs, and as they approached the living room, she took firm hold of his hand. But the silence was shattered as he followed her through the door into the room where, he had thought, her gathering had ended an hour before.
The group of ten ladies, his Stepmother's and Amanda's friends, erupted in a chorus of laughter and teasing comments as Michael was walked into the center of the room. At the first sight of these guests he frantically tried to free himself from his Stepmother's grasp, but without success. He finally stopped struggling and stood, head down, as the women and girls moved closer and crowded about him. "She's so adorable!" cried out Karen, Amanda's best friend. "And the dress is perfect. It really suits her, don't you think?" "How do you like it, little girl?" added Amanda in a mocking tone. "How do you like wearing a dress?"
These and other comments crashed down on Michael's ears as the girls proceeded to pluck at his dress, fluffing out the skirt over his stiff petticoat, adjusting the bows at the short, puffed sleeves, and fingering the lace frills. Eventually, his Stepmother restored a degree of decorum to the gathering, and the guests all took seats about the room, leaving Michael to stand at the center of their attention. His Stepmother spoke.
"Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to a new member of my household. This is Melissa," she gloated, standing to the side and gesturing towards the feminized boy. "Melissa darling, walk over to our guests and greet them." Michael/Melissa stared dumbly at his/her Stepmother, and then slowly walked over to the nearest guest and held out his hand. "No, no, no. Melissa, prettly little ladies don't shake hands. You should curtesy gracefully, and say you are pleased to make the guest's acquaintance. And kiss each one on the cheek." Melissa was horrified at what was happening to him--what had he done to deserve this?? What was she doing to him?? And the guests. They stood there expectantly, with broad smiles on their faces, waiting their turn to greet the new little lady.
The first guest was Karen. He stood before her, fumbled ashamedly with the hem of his skirt, and bobbed down as he imagined how a girl performed a curtesy. His Stepmother was there again to correct him. "No, Melissa dear. My, my but you do have so much to learn. Take the hem daintily between your fingertips, drop one foot behind you, and bend your legs slowly. And look directly into your guest's eyes while you curtesy. She wants to she how pretty you look." Tears began to form in Melissa's eyes as she tried again. He had avoided looking at anyone directly--his shame was just too humiliating. Karen was a tall girl and towered over him in her four inch heels. He looked up and saw her standing over him, with a smile that was sexy and at the same time showed her strong sense of superiority over him. He took the lacy hem of the dress in his fingertips and curtesied as instructed, his gaze locked on her smiling eyes. Karen leaned down and presented her cheek for Melissa's kiss. "Oooh, Melissa, you smell sooo pretty today," she teased. By the time he had finished greeting each of the guests, Melissa thought he could never feel more mortified. Melissa was wrong.
The party lasted all evening. Melissa's silence was not tolerated for long, and she was required to speak in the tone of a little girl. The conversation was directed entirely at the new little girl on the block, and how much she would enjoy her summer. "My summer!!", Melissa screamed to herself, and finally broke down. But the tears simply brought more teasing comments about how girlish he now was. There was no escape. When Amanda suggested the nickname "Missy", the tears started again.
Melissa's Stepmother explained that Michael's inexcusable behavior and manners were a disgrace to the family, and that he would spend the summer learning how to correct them at her sister's home. Perhaps at the end of the summer with Aunt Mary, Missy would be "reformed." Missy was called upon to model the pretty party dress, and was devastated further by having to describe every bit of clothing she was wearing, and how much she liked each and every one. Amanda, Karen, and her other friends were screaching with laughter as Missy carried on about her "favorite party dress and petticoats."
Missy arrived at her aunt's house the next day, wearing a white lacy sheer blouse, pink skirt, white hose, and pink heels. In the ensuing weeks, she learned all there was to learn about being a teenage girl--everything. All signs of masculinity or rebellion on her part were strictly forbidden, and punished severely.
MELISSA--PART II
By Linda Lafrance
Copyright 1989
Missy had not met Aunt Mary before. She was Missy's Stepmother's sister, and Missy had never met anyone from that side of the family. So Missy had no idea what to expect when he arrived at Aunt Mary's large, remote house. And it was probably better for him that he didn't.
Aunt Mary didn't like males. Unlike many women who could not relate to living in a "man's" world, however, Aunt Mary resolved long ago that she would DO something about it. Over the years she had developed a regimen for converting the macho male ego into a submissive, feminine personality. She knew how to do it--she had done it many times before--and she was about to do it again.
Melissa was met at the door by two girls, each wearing the "classic" uniform of a french maid: black satin, lace trimmed, short skirted uniforms, black patent leather pumps, aprons, caps, and cuffs. But more than that, the two girls were feminine in the extreme, with beautiful long hair, artful makeup, and totally girlish deamnors. Missy's Stepmother left him in the vestibule, and immediately began the return trip home. The maids, Angel and Daisy, led a cowed, silent Melissa to a large bedroom on the second floor of the house, and immediately undressed him. The two maids could not have been more than a few years older than Melissa, and he was reluctant to appear naked before them. But when Melissa tried to cover himself with his hands, Angel stepped behind him and firmly grasped his wrists. Now defenseless, Melissa stood quietly as Daisy moved slowly towards him, hips swaying beneath her abbreviated black satin dress, and teasingly manipulated Melissa's penis until it stood out straight and hard. "What's this little girl?", she whispered as she continued to tease the restrained Melissa. But as her touch brought Melissa closer and closer to orgasm, Daisy took a a pink ribbon, tied it around the base of the Melissa's frustrated erection and used it as a leash to lead Melissa into the bathroom.
"Into the tub, dear," said Daisy. Melissa followed her instructions and stood in the bathtub only to be covered with a depilatory and ordered to stand still while it's work was done. Following a shower to remove the cream, and then a perfumed bubble bath, Melissa was led back into his girlishly appointed bedroom to be dressed by the maids. While he wasn't looking forward to donning more girl's clothing, he was sorely disappointed that there was not more to wear.
Angel picked up a lacy, frilled pink garter belt and wrapped it about Melissa's waist, while Daisy prepared sheer pink hose for his legs. The young she-boy was then seated at a vanity where the two maids applied a thorough covering of makeup, including thick black mascara, eyeshadow, foundation, lipstick, and blusher. Long pink nails were glued to his fingertips, and Melissa's longish blonde hair was wrapped in a silly top knot above his head with a wide pink satin ribbon. Four inch pink heels were placed upon his feet, and he was liberally perfumed. As the crowning glory, Daisy withdrew a pink, lacy sheath, with a wide "petticoat skirt" which was secured tightly around the base of Melissa's penis. The pink ribbon was again attached, this time around his balls, and Melissa was understandably shocked when the maids began to lead him from the room.
"I can't leave here like this!" he complained. They were the first words he had spoken during the entire ordeal. Daisy sweetly responded "Why of course you can Missy....you've been dressed just as your Aunty ordered." Despite Melissa's brief struggle, the maids brought him down to meet Aunt Mary for the first time.
Melissa stumbled into the living room on his unfamiliar heels. As he entered, an older woman rose from a chair with a wide smile on face. "Well, well.....Melissa dear, I'm so pleased to meet you!" she exclaimed, and walked over to the sissifed boy. She took the pink ribbon reins from Angel and gazed down into Melissa's eyes. "Do you know why you're here Melissa?" she asked as she pulled the ribbon tightly.
Melissa/Michael reached for the ribbon to relieve the tension created by Aunt Mary's tug, but was stopped by Angel and Daisy, who grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind his back.
"That was a mistake Missy darling," Aunt Mary stated. "You've got a lot to learn, and the very first lesson is that you DO NOT EVEN THINK of opposing me in anything I wish to do! And if I wish to CUT THIS DAMN THING OFF, I'll do as I please!" And with that she yanked the ribbon causing Missy to cry out and fall to his knees. Angel and Daisy maintained their grips on Melissa's wrists, and he found himself kneeling on the floor with the two maids holding his wrists up against the middle of his back.
In school Michael had been a fair wrestler, and his instincts told him he could escape from this hold. His instincts were wrong however, as he was hampered by the long nails on his fingers. And as soon as he started to struggle he felt his balls practically wripped from his body by Aunt Mary's vicious tugs on the pink ribbon attached to his scrotum. He was quickly subdued, with his hands cuffed behind his back, once again standing before Aunt Mary. "It always amazes me how the male ego forces you people to do such stupid things, Missy honey, and you have just done a very stupid thing. You're here to unlearn that ego, and I'm going to do it. For the entire summer you'll be trained to behave as a VERY OBEDIENT YOUNG LADY......and I stress all four of those words. "Very", because there will be no question about what you have become. "Obedient" because you will, without question, obey me, and EVERY other woman or girl you encounter. "Young", because I believe you will be more subservient if your status is not only that of a sissy girl, but of a youthful little sissy girl. And "lady", because you will be as feminine as you can imagine, multiplied by 10!"
During this speech Melissa stood before Aunt Mary, head down, and breathing heavily. "Now, do you intend to cooperate, Melissa dearie, or do I have to use additional methods to gain your attention?" Melissa neither moved nor responded to the question. "Very well sweetie, you'll learn soon enough. Take her over to the pedestal girls", Aunt Mary directed.
Daisy and Angel directed Melissa over to a slightly raised area at the end of the long room. Although Melissa's walk in the heels was far from satisfactory to Aunt Mary, she made no move at present to correct it. Melissa was seated on the carpeted pedestal, hands still cuffed behind his back. Daisy reached down and pulled the lid off little trap door just at Melissa's crotch and reached into the enclosure to pull out a pink leather and small link chain contraption which she promptly locked around Melissa's scrotum, thus securely imprisoning him on the carpeted pedestal. Thin pink leather straps were place around each ankle and fastened to small rings attached to the floor. And mirrors were moved into place so that Melissa could see his reflection, seated on the pink carpeted pedestal, in hose, heels, and makeup, with his penis daintily covered by the little slip and petticoat.
"Do you like your new seat Missy sweets", inquired a gloating Aunt Mary. Melissa struggled to get up but quickly learned that he would remain seated in that spot until someone removed the lock on the chain coming out of the floor. Aunt Mary approached her seated captive and stood directly in front of him. "I asked a question young lady, and I expect an answer!" Melissa, tears beginning to form in his eyes as he saw his image in the mirrors, moaned his negative response. "Noooo", he whined as the tears came more quickly. "Well I can fix that", Aunt Mary replied, and gestured to Daisy and Angel.
The maids minced around behind Melissa and bent him forward at the waist, exposing another small trap door which they removed. Melissa was then allowed to again sit upright. Aunt Mary walked over to a table and pushed a button on a remote control device. Within seconds Melissa started to squirm as he felt pressure against his anus. The pressure increased and Melissa let out a scream as he felt the electrically operated dildo rise out of the floor and deeply penetrate his bottom. Aunt Mary pushed another button and the dildo began to vibrate, causing Melissa's penis to erect within his little pink penis petticoat. "I'll bet you like your seat now, don't you Missy dear?" laughed Aunt Mary. Melissa's tears slowly subsided as the pleasure from Aunt Mary's treatment began to overwhelm him. But just as he began to reach orgasm the dildo was removed and Melissa was left frustrated.
Aunty Mary removed the cuffs from Melissa's wrists and stood back in front of the dispirited boy. "Now here are the rules for your punishment seat, sissy Missy. Place your elbows at your sides and bend them at ninety degrees. Then let your wrists flop down......ooooohhhhh, don't you just look the sweetest like that? You are NOT permitted to move your arms or hands, and you are particularly NOT to touch your little dickie! Indeed, so long as you are in this house you will never touch it! Now, you will repeat after me: My name is Melissa, and I want to learn to be a prissy little sissy girl. Say it!"
Unfortunately, Melissa was not quick enough to respond and thus quickly learned another feature of his punishment pedestal, as he received a small electric shock on his scrotum. It was not really painful, but was enough to gain his attention. He repeated her words, stumbling over them, and speaking in a quiet voice. "Not good enough girl.....you should have a nice sweet feminine lilt to your voice. And you should sound like you mean it! Try again", Aunt Mary directed. After many tries Melissa had the voice down to where Aunt Mary was somewhat satisfied with his first efforts.
And thus began Melissa's girlie training under Aunt Mary. The punishment pedestal became a frequent place for Melissa to spend a large part of his day, and Aunt Mary made good use of all of it's features. As the days and weeks passed, Melissa learned first to speak as a properly trained young lady. This included not only the proper voice, but the proper words as well. He was shortly talking of how he would just LOVE to wear a pretty dress, even though during this period he never wore anything other than his hose, heels, garter belt, "princess" penis petticoat, makeup, and nails. Melissa was also instructed in the appropriate gestures for his hands, after demonstrating that he could hold them at right angles with the wrists limp for several hours at a time.
He was next taught to apply makeup from this seat. Daisy and Angel, eager participants in Melissa's training, brought a vanity table with short legs which was placed over Melissa's lap, and within a matter of weeks, Melissa had graduated to styling and curling his own hair. Progress was not always easy, however, especially because all of the hand movements accompanying these tasks had to be carried out with the utmost of feminine flair. And when progress was slow, Aunt Mary was quick to take corrective action until, over time, Melissa came to learn that the initial shock received that first day was mild compared to the full capability of the punishment pedestal.
On other occasions, when Melissa had created a particularly cute look with his makeup and hair perhaps, Aunt Mary would start up the vibrator and move it in and out, allowing Melissa to achieve orgasm while viewing his feminine reflection in the mirrors in front of the pedestal. Melissa was also required to speak in his newly learned feminine voice while Aunt Mary manipulated the dildo. "Ooooh......Auntie.....I just LOVE being a girlie", he would squeal, as Aunt Mary encouraged him on. During these episodes she would often remind Missy that, "Touching of your little princess of a dickie is not permitted sissy Missy!"
After many weeks, most of which was spent seated on the pedestal, Melissa was allowed to begin the next part of his training....dress and deportment. Having already achieved a more cooperative attitude on Melissa's part, Aunt Mary encouraged the boy to participate in the selection of outfits from the large wardrobe maintained in the home. And so, about mid-way through the summer Melissa found himself standing naked in his bedroom, meekly asking Angel for his "little prissy princess petticoat for my little sissy dickie", and standing modestly before her as she put the lacy confection in place. Aunt Mary required Melissa to ask for each item.
"Please Auntie, may I wear the lovely sheer pink panties with the white lacy ruffles on the seat?", Missy requested.
"But of course dear, and I know you'll love them too", responded Aunt Mary. After donning sheer pink hose, white lace anklets, a pink silk vest with lace and ribbon trim, the ever present four inch heels, and a corset, Melissa found it time to request the appropriate slip. Throughout the entire training period Michael/Melissa frequently experienced moments like this, the utter humiliation of having to debase himself in this way conflicting with the anticipation he had come to experience, looking forward to wearing such frilly, girlish clothing. "May I wear the white petticoat slip also Auntie?" "Which one pet", she replied, "the narrow slip with the 3 inch lace border at the hem, or the darling full crinoline petti that buttons up the back so that you can't remove it without asking politiely?" she teased.
"Oh, Aunty, I think I'd like to wear the full petti today, if I may, please?" Such exchanges rarely left Melissa without an erection, and the feminized boy shuddered as the stiff petticoat was lowered over his shoulders and came in contact with the princess dickie petti he wore. "Which dress do you want to wear today Missy?" asked Aunt Mary as she walked over to a large wardrobe and opened the door to reveal twenty to thirty darling party frocks.
"May I wear a pink one today please," he meekly responded. "Why Missy, that's the third day in a row you've wanted to wear pink!", exclaimed Aunt Mary with a teasing lilt to her voice and a wide, knowing smile on her face. "Wouldn't you like to wear a pretty yellow, or perhaps this lovely lavender one?" "Oh Aunty", Melissa replied, "They are very pretty yes, but I think I want to wear pink again........please?" By this time the exchange between them had caused Melissa's princess dickie petti to dampen from his excitement, although as ordered, he didn't even think of trying to touch it. Indeed, he chose a pink dress precisely because he had come to find it to be the most likely to excite him. "Of course, my little sissy girl, you can wear your precious pink if you wish", Aunt Mary said with a laugh, and she moved to the large selection of pink dresses in the closet. "But which one dearie. We have such a nice choice available."
Melissa swished in his heels and petticoat over to the closet and pointed to a particularly lovely little chiffon dress, with puffed short lace trimmed sleeves, a high ruffled neck, and three lace trimmed tiers on the short skirt. "Why Missy honey, you'll look like you're six years old in this pretty dress!", Aunt Mary teased. "But then, I guess you'd look like that regardless of which dress you chose, wouldn't you princess?" Daisy and Angel lowered the dress over Missy's shoulders, being careful not to mess the curly hairstyle he had fashioned earlier that morning. Now completed dressed, Melissa minced over to the triple full length mirror which dominated one wall of the room and completed the ritual he had learned.
Curtseying to his image of a large, but pretty little girl, incongruently wearing four inch heels, Melissa smiled widely, and in his most effeminate voice looked at Aunt Mary's reflection and exclaimed "Oooooooooh! I'm such a pretty little girl today! Thank you so much for helping me be the perfect sissy Aunt Mary!" And with that, as his training had encouraged, Missy came in the little princess petti while Aunt Mary, Daisy, and Angel looked on with giggles and laughter.
At first Missy's day in dresses consisted of further lessons in feminine behavior. Walking, sitting, the curtsey, and others, were all thoroughly taught and ingrained. No longer attached to the wires on the pedestal, his cooperation and attention where assured by the birches held by Angel and Daisy, who were, like Aunt Mary, swift to encourage Missy's proper progress.
After several more weeks, Melissa found himself being exposed to others, sometimes on shopping trips where, dressed in a fashion more becoming his age, he was never detected as a boy by any of the shop clerks in the boutiques they visited. On other occasions, Aunt Mary invited her friends for a visit, several of whom had young boys in petticoat training themselves. Thus, Melissa learned to hostess a tea party, with perhaps four of Aunt Mary's friends, and their darling little prissy boys as guests.
The ladies all enjoyed these gatherings immensely, but the best fun occured the day these ladies brought their real daughters along as well. Missy and his new found "girl" friends were dressed as French Maids for this occasion, and the daughters had the finest time, requiring these sissy boys to provide the most demanding maid service in the most feminine way. Melissa found it to be the ultimate humiliation of the summer.....to have to stand submissively before these pretty girls who knew his true sex, and act as a serving girl for their amusement. "Oh Missy, you do look adorable in that maids outfit.....and who did your hair? It's simply precious!", and all the girls would giggle as Missy would have to admit that he was so talented in feminine arts that he had given himself a home permanent! The afternoon ended when each boy-maid was required to lift his skirts and pettis and allow the girls to attach a lead to the loop in their princess dickie pettis (which by that time were quite full with their erections) and lead the boys to the upstairs bedrooms for the ultimate in "maid" service.
But if Melissa thought the humiliation of that day was without equal, he had not counted on what would happen at the end of the summer.
This is all I have of this story.