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Pink Christmas ? by: Christopher Prim "Wakey, wakey, Neal, baby," my stepmother's honey dipped voice summoned me from dreamland, "It's time to get up and about on your big, big day." "Go 'way, Monica, 'm sleepy," I grumbled in reply. "No whining now, sleepyhead," Monica cheerfully countered, grabbing the coverings I had been attempting to pull over my head and yanking them down. "Okay, okay, I'll be down in a few minutes," I said, giving in to the inevitable. I feebly sat up and opened my eyes. Just in time for Monica to draw back the curtains and flood the room with morning sunlight, painfully blinding me. "Right this second, grumpy gus," Monica chirped, ignoring my whimpers of pain. "It's Christmas morning and the whole family is just waiting for you." Taking firm hold of my hand she pulled me stumbling out of the room. Naturally, I hated being led about like a child. Unsuccessfully, I tried to pull free from her grip. "I'm not a little boy!" I complained, {For what must have been the millionth time!} unable to keep a whining tone from entering my voice. I was in fact twenty-two years old, the same as Monica, and fought a constant battle to get her to treat me accordingly. "Oh, sweetheart," Monica soothed in exactly the tone used for cranky toddlers. "I'm not treating you like a little BOY." Despite her reassuring tone, something about what she said set off little alarm bells in my mind, and she still did not release my hand. Quite the opposite in fact. As we neared the stairs she pulled me closer and protectively wrapped her arm around my waist. "Watch your step, baby. Down we go." 'Great,' I thought, 'Complain about being treated like a kid and she starts treating me like a toddler.' "I'm not a BABY! And I can do it myself!" I whined. Realizing even as I spoke that I had managed to sound just like a petulant three year old. "Of course you can, sweetheart," Monica crooned in Motherly tones that I am sure would have pacified any tot. "But your not fully awake yet and you don't want to have an accident on Christmas Morning, do you?" Sighing in frustration, I shook my head in reply. There was no use in fighting. Monica, of good heart but simple mind, took her role as 'Mother' much too seriously. I supposed she had a point, anyhow. My vision was still more than a little blurry and I could easily have stumbled without her strong, yet gentle, guidance. "There, that's settled then," Monica happily purred. "Oh, honey, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye in the months since you've returned home. I really only recently began to understand your needs. But I promise that from now on I'll be the Mommy of your dreams. And no-one is going to treat you like a little BOY ever again." There it was again! She was definitely putting an odd stress on the word 'boy'. Maybe if I had been more awake that would have alarmed me more than it did, but I only dismissed that and the strange speech as more of Monica's 'Mommy' syndrome. I actually almost giggled at the promise of never being regarded as a child again. That really would be a Christmas miracle! Standing at barely five foot three in platform shoes, and with a baby face, to boot, I could easily get into movies for half price. Monica was by no means even the worst in the family about acting like I was a little boy instead of a man. My fourteen year old sister, Jennifer, was worse. Monica's younger sister, Erica, was absolutely horrible. Needless to say, I was not thrilled when Erica's mocking voice greeted our arrival in the living room. "Oh, how cute!" she squealed, "I just love your darling pee-jays, Nelly-kins." This was followed by a chorus of laughter. I stood there, open mouthed and blinking to clear my vision, trying to figure out what in the world was so funny. 'Nelly' had been a nickname the kids at school stuck me with way back in first grade, and Erica had added the diminutive suffix months ago. She had never before used it within Monica's hearing, but it was not too much of a shock and should not have led to such widespread mirth. My eyes finally focused and I took in my audience -- And could not stop a whimper from escaping my suddenly trembling lips! Father was there, and Jennifer and Erica, of course, and Monica and Erica's Mother, Jessica {But she insisted on being called Nana, making clear where Monica got her maternal instincts} and they were all laughing, -- At me! -- but that was not what had brought me to verge of the tears. The cause of my distress was the man sitting next to Erica. I had not seen him in years, but even if I did not recognize his face I could never forget his laugh. God knows I had heard it enough. More than enough! None other than Mick Donnoly, the bane of my existence, number one on my list of characters from childhood I never wanted to see again, the bone-headed, ham-fisted farmboy who pinned the hated nickname of 'Nelly' on me in the first place, had returned to torment me. I was fully awake, now, and Erica's taunt suddenly made ghastly sense. With a heavy heart, I looked down at myself, desperately praying that my rapidly returning memory of the previous night was only a bad dream. Unfortunately, I remembered correctly, and it was my life that had suddenly become a nightmare. I was wearing my sister's pink, one-piece footsies. My face must have turned as pink as my outfit. "These aren't mine!" I squawked, desperately trying to explain, "They're Jennifer's!" "Naughty, naughty, nelly-kins," Erica said in mock admonishment. "Little boys shouldn't wear their sister's clothes." "I don't wear her clothes!" I wailed, tears of frustration and shame welling up in my eyes. "And I'm not a little boy!" "Of course you aren't, sweetheart," Monica comforted me, her coddling tone only adding to my embarrassment. I would have fled the room then if not for her firm grip on my shoulders. "Actually, I made Neal wear Jennifer's jammies," she explained "You see, Neal had a little accident last night.." "It wasn't an accident," I interrupted, anxious that no-one get the wrong idea. "It was all Jennifer's fault!" She was the very picture of innocence. "Me? How is it my fault that you like to wear my things?" "That's a lie!" I shouted. She was making me out to be some kind of sissy! "You take that back!" "Why don't you make me, little Nelly." I might have assaulted her if Monica had not been holding me. Probably for the best. One of the most humiliating changes I've had to deal with since my return was the simple fact that my fourteen year old sister was now bigger -- and stronger! -- than me. A fact she wasn't at all hesitant to demonstrate. Or gloat about. "Now, children, no fighting on Christmas Day." Monica ended our little standoff in her 'Mommy means business' tone. One that we both knew better than to argue with. "As I was saying," she continued "Neal fell in a puddle out front when we came home from Midnight Mass. Well, you know how cold it was, and the poor dear was chilled to the bone. To make a long story short, I was afraid he would catch cold, and, since he didn't have any warm jammies of his own, I insisted he wear Jennifer's." She gave me a comforting hug then, "So there's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart," she said to me, giving me a little peck on the forehead, "I'm sure everyone understands and won't tease you any more." I wasn't so sure about that, and I'm afraid I was blushing more than ever as I recalled the details of my 'accident' and its aftermath. Details I was thankful Monica had not shared. I shivered as I recalled emerging from the ice cold puddle of rain water. I immediately accused Jennifer of pushing me, but, wide eyed, she protested her innocence. Somehow, she had managed to get all the way on the other side of the car, making my charge seem unlikely, so the brat got away with her dirty trick. Monica was the picture of Motherly concern, naturally, immediately at my side and wrapping my shivering form in her own coat, actually carrying me inside and upstairs for a hot bath. I expected her to leave right away. Instead she started the water running and then commenced undressing me! I might as well have fought a hurricane as stop her. Almost before I knew what was happening my coat and jacket were off and my pants were down around my ankles! "STOP!" I yelled as she pushed me down on the toilet seat with one hand and pulled my briefs down with the other! "Hush, honey," she calmly replied. "I've seen little boys before." "I'm not a little boy," I screeched, absolutely mortified "I'm a grown man!" "Of course you are, silly," she answered, completely unruffled, untying my shoe laces. "Now help Mommy and take off your shirt and tie." Somehow, she made me feel as if I were the one being unreasonable. So, bashfully, I did as she suggested and started fumbling with my tie as she disposed of my shoes and socks. I had only managed to undo the knot when she pulled me to my feet and, turning me so my back was to her, started helping me with the buttons of my shirt. To my relief, she made no comments on my frozen, shriveled manhood. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she cheerfully said, pulling my shirt off my shoulders and pushing past me to rummage in the medicine cabinet. I stammered a less than heartfelt agreement, once more using my hands to shield myself and taking the extra precaution of keeping my back to her. This amused her. "Really, Neal, you don't have anything to be modest about," she giggled, handing me a jar of some noxious cream. "Here, start rubbing this into your legs, it will help to warm you up." The stuff smelled horrible. But, despite how much I must have been blushing, I still felt like an icicle. So I gratefully took it and began to vigorously do as instructed while Monica checked on the bath. She returned just as I finished my legs and, after telling me start on my groin area, slipped a bathing cap over my head and began stuffing my long hair into it. I protested, but she argued that since it was the one thing that was dry I certainly didn't want to get it wet now. That made sense, so I went along with it. My hair out of the way, Monica took some of the cream and helped apply it over my torso and arms. I must say it certainly did the trick of making me warmer. In fact, I soon started to feel as if my skin was on fire. I complained about this, but Monica just smiled and said, "Oh good, it's working. Now just wait a little while and let it do its job." By the time Monica finally gave me the okay to get into the bath I was more than eager to do so and scampered over to the tub, not even complaining when I discovered a bountiful layer of bubbles. After dipping a toe in, though, I changed my mind. "It's too hot!" I squawked. Monica "Tsked! Oh, stop whining, Neal," she admonished, and unceremoniously scooped me up and deposited me in the steaming water. Ignoring my squeals of protest she started scrubbing, and at the same time, scolding me, "I swear, I know five year olds who are less babyish than you are!" Again somehow managing to make me feel guilty and ashamed when she was the one who was out of line! She wasn't making any more allowances for my modesty, either. Every inch was scrubbed until my skin was a glowing shade of pink. When she finally pulled me out from under the bubbles, sobbing in shame, I had another terrible surprise. "My hair!" I wailed, discovering that I was now as hairless as a babe from the neck down! It only took me a moment to realize what the true purpose of the odorous cream had been. "You tricked me!" That just earned me a playful, yet painful, slap on my bare butt. "There you go again," she scolded, wrapping me up in a fluffy pink towel. "Being a crybaby and blaming someone else for your problems. I told you it would help get you warm and that's exactly what it did. And there's nothing to cry about," she informed while gently patting me dry. "I'm sure it will all grow back long before you get around to finding a girlfriend to impress with your manly body hair. Isn't that right?" I only sobbed in response to her tirade. It was true that I had not had a date since returning home. But that was hardly my fault! I had no money and no car {Or even a driver's license!} And, if that did not present enough obstacles to romance, Erica had convinced every girl at school that I was some kind of fairy! Monica took my failure to reply as an affirmative. "I thought so," she giggled, efficiently brushing out my hair and braiding it for bed. "Okay, Weepy Willow, off to your bedroom, and Mommy will be right behind you to tuck you in," she said, giving me another smack on the bottom to hurry me along. I'd had more than enough for one night, so I didn't even argue when she gave me Jennifer's pink footsies to wear. I just pulled them on, grateful to at least be covering my shamefully denuded body, crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. I shuddered again at the memory, and wondered if it was all part of some plot. But I could not believe that of Monica and shoved the thought aside as Monica seated me on the floor. I felt especially childish having to crane my neck to look up at everybody. Especially since they all seemed to be staring at me with weird, mocking grins. Monica was smiling warmly at me, though, as she handed me a gaily wrapped package. "This is a very special present for you, Neal darling. Something I know you'll really love, and I wanted it to be the first thing opened this Christmas." I nervously took the package from her hands, full of curiosity as to what it could be, and smiled weakly at the assembled family as they all encouraged me to open it. I quickly tore the pink wrapping off and expectantly opened the box. The contents could not have startled me more. Stunned and disbelieving, I pulled it out and held it up for more thorough examination. I had received a little girl's pink, satin party dress! "Um... I think you g.. gave me Jennifer's present by mistake," I stammered, praying that was the case. "Oh, that's much too small to fit me," Jennifer snickered, "You're the only one tiny enough to wear it, Nelly-kins." "Don't tease, Jennifer," Monica cut in before I could retort to my sister's taunt. "It isn't ladylike." Then, turning to me and smiling, she said, "There's no mistake, sweetheart. We all know your secret and we still love you and want you to be happy." "Secret?" I queried, completely dumbfounded. "What secret? What are you talking about?" "Why, that you want to be a little girl, silly," Monica replied, as if it were obvious. My jaw must have hit the floor, so stunned was I by her announcement. Where could she have gotten an idea like that? Monica completely misread my silence, kneeling on the floor with a comforting arm across my shoulders. she soothed, "Don't worry, darling, there's nothing to be afraid of. You're Daddy still loves you. Isn't that right, Bill?" "...Yes, that's right...," Father finally said. After another long pause he added, "I still love you, son... er... sweetheart?" "I still love you too, Nelly," Jennifer piped up, giggling "In fact, I like you more now. I always wanted a baby sister." I was less than reassured. But I'd had time to snap out of my daze. "I don't want to be a little girl!" I shouted, flinging the dress away. "I don't know what you're talking about! You're all crazy!" My outburst failed to return my family to sanity. Monica sadly shook her head. "There's no use denying it, Nelly, we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have proof." Monica had NEVER called me 'Nelly' before, and her use of the belittling nickname combined with Mick's smirking witness to my humiliation drove me to fury. "PROOF!" I roared, "You stupid bimbo! You're just....!" My tirade was ended by an abrupt {SLAAAAP!} that left my ears ringing. "I've had more than enough of your attitude, little missy," Monica spat, shaking me by the shoulders until my teeth rattled. "I didn't want to have to spank a little sissy butt on Christmas Day, but you've left me no choice. Bill, can I borrow your belt?" "No," my Father replied, and, believing that he was putting an end to this charade, I silently offered up praise to heaven. But what he said next shattered my faith in a just God. "He's my son... er... sissy, I should be the one to spank him." "Alright, Bill, if you think that's best," Monica answered, sounding strangely pleased. I was once again stunned speechless as Monica frog marched me toward Father, who stood to remove his belt. I had never been spanked before, and could scarcely believe it was going to happen now. Dazed, tears coursing down my face, I hardly noticed Monica deftly unzipping my pajamas and slipping them down off my trembling shoulders. The reality of the situation struck me full force, though, when Father took me by the arm and pulled me over his lap, and pulled my pink pajamas down -- Exposing my pink, baby-smooth bottom! "Nooo!" I wailed, trying to kick, claw, or squirm my way out of danger. "Please! Don't!" My reaction may have seemed somewhat extreme, but I had good reason to be terrified. While I had never actually been spanked, I had learned that my tender bottom was unusually sensitive to pain. Monica had a habit of giving playful little smacks to my bottom if she was mildly displeased, and it really hurt. Fortunately, Monica just dismissed my genuine squeals of pain as over-acting, so my disconcerting vulnerability remained a secret. Naturally, when I discovered that spanking was now the punishment of choice in our household, and after observing Jennifer receiving one from our father, I vowed to be a very good boy. If Monica's little slaps hurt - - And they really, really hurt! -- I did not want to find out what a serious, bare bottom spanking from my bigger, stronger father felt like. Just the thought of it filled me with dread. That he apparently intended to beat me with his wide, leather belt sent me into full-fledged hysteria. My panicked struggles proved futile, Father's grip was as firm as a vise. Giving up on fighting, I focused all my efforts into pleading and sobbing for mercy. "Please don't spank me! I'll be good! Please, Daddy! I DO want to be a girl!" That, too, was fruitless. He just laughed. "Hell! I know you want to be girl, you damned sissy!" he spat. "You're being spanked for being rude and insulting to Mon... Your Mommy." "Don't forget trying to lie about wanting to be a little girl, Daddy," Jennifer spitefully added. "And for lying," Father agreed, chuckling. He squeezed my buttocks and I squealed in trepidation. "Well, I'll be damned if your butt isn't as soft as a little girl's," he marveled, then laughed. "I'll tell you what, Nellie jelly-butt, if you promise to be a good little girl from now on, I'll spank you like a little girl with my bare hand." I ceased my struggles, sniffling, hardly believing my good luck. Then Father dropped the other shoe. "But, after that, if I ever hear any more nonsense from you about being a boy, much less a man, or you ever again try to claim that you really don't want to be a girl, I'll pull you back over my lap and blister your flabby little fanny with my belt like a naughty boy deserves. Is it a deal?" I hesitated for less than a second. Really, I don't think I would have wavered at all if Mick had not been there. This was all too familiar to the humiliations he had forced on me as a child. But the slither of the belt as Father drew it up overcame my reluctance. "Yes!" I cried. "Yes, what?" I could not fathom what he was looking for. "uh.. Yes, Sir?" "A good little girl would say, Yes, Daddy, I'll be a very good little girl from now on." I got the hint -- I was a college man, after all -- and recited every humiliating word of the demeaning phrase with absolute sincerity, and was rewarded with the belt -- To my immense relief! -- being tossed on the floor. My relief was short lived, however, Father wasted no time in raising up his big hand and bringing it hammering down... {THWACK!!!!!!!!!!} I howled in agony. I had never felt such excruciating pain. I swear, my bones rattled! {THWACK!!!!!!!!!!} Oh, God! It hurt! I wiggled and squirmed to escape , screaming and squealing and bawling for mercy. When would this torture end? {THWACK!!!!!!!!!!} I could take no more. Every muscle in my body turned to jelly and all could do was lay there like a rag doll and sob, "I'm sorry," over and over. Mercifully, my pitiful entreaties melted Father's heart. "Shhh... Shush, baby, it's all over now," he said, gently pulling my pajamas back up over my waist and propping me up on his lap with his strong arms. I cried myself out as he redressed me, all the while whispering words of comfort and gently petting me. When my sobs settled down to sniffles he asked "What are you going to do now, Nelly?" It took a moment for me to realize what was expected, and my stomach did flip-flops as I digested what I had just agreed to. But I had no choice. I did not dare face another bare-handed spanking, much less one with the belt. "I am going to be a very good little girl, Daddy," I simpered. Satisfied, Father continued, "And do you promise to mind your Mommy and your big sister and not give them any more backtalk?" I whimpered a little at that, but did not hesitate. "Oh yes, Daddy, I'll mind Mommy and Jennifer, and Auntie Erica and Nana too," I ad-libbed, desperate to get on his good side. "And I won't talk back any more. Ever!" He was pleased, apparently "Good girl," he said, gently setting me back on my feet, "Now give Daddy a hug and a kiss." I blushed, but wrapped my arms around his neck and chastely pecked him on the cheek before hugging him as fiercely as I could. "I'm so sorry, Daddy," I whispered into his ear on the spur of the moment, not even sure what I was apologizing for. I just knew that I had disappointed him greatly. "Please don't hate me." He hugged me back. "I don't hate you, sweetheart," he replied softly, "No matter what, your Daddy will always love you." He released me and, clearing his throat, sternly ordered, "Now apologize to your Mommy for being so naughty and rude to her." Looking up toward Monica, seeing her eyes glistening with unshed tears -- Of sympathy for me, I was sure her smile full of love and understanding, I suddenly felt so small and ashamed of myself for saying such horrible things to her that I burst into tears anew. "I'm s.. sorry, Mommy, I've b.. been s.. so b.. b.. ..." I broke down, unable to continue. She seemed to understand, though, and took me into a Motherly hug "Oh, Nelly Darling, it's alright. All is forgiven," she crooned, cradling my head into her breasts and gently rubbing my back as I cried my heart out. Eventually, I settled down and she produced a handkerchief, drying my tears and helping me to blow my nose. "Feel better now, sweetheart?" she warmly asked. I nodded. "Can you smile for Mommy?" I managed a tremulous smile. "There now, that wasn't so bad was it? Now let's see what other pretties our new little girl got I had forgotten about the Dress, and I really didn't want to see what other surprises awaited me. But, strangely, the prospect didn't upset me all that much. I think it was because, for the first time in years, I felt that Father -- Daddy! -- truly loved me. Even though he believed I was a total SISSY whose fondest wish was to be a little girl! Instead of being depressed, as I am sure most men would be in my position, I felt oddly elated, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Instead of becoming the kind of man he could be proud of -- Something I increasingly felt would never be accomplished! -- all I had to do to retain his love was act the part of a dainty, obedient child, and that was well within my talents. So, docile as a lamb, I allowed Monica to lead me by the hand back to my place in front of the tree. Kneeling, -- I certainly didn't want to sit! - - I saw that the Dress had been retrieved and neatly laid out in front of the gift box. It WAS a beautiful dress, one that any little girl would be overjoyed to find under the tree on Christmas Morning. "Oh, somebody brought my pretty dress back, thank you!" I gushed, displaying the proper enthusiasm for my role, and looked to Monica for approval of my performance. I could tell she was pleased. "You'll have to thank Nana for that, sweetheart," she said, gesturing toward her mother. I took the cue. "Thank you, Nana, for saving my pretty pink dress," I simpered. "I'm so glad it wasn't ruined when I was being so naughty." "You're very welcome, dear," she chuckled in amusement, but her smile was warm and reassuring. "We're all dying to see how pretty you look wearing it." I blushed. I had been hoping this game would not come to that. But the chorus of agreement following her statement assured me it would. I had been avoiding even looking at the rest of the family, but had to acknowledge their comments. Nervously, I raised my eyes and thanked them, with what I hoped was a brave smile. They were all smiling down at me, as well, but their smiles lacked either warmth or goodwill. Jennifer and Erica's grins were mocking and almost gleefully predatory, and Mick's amusement was clearly laced with contempt. Shivering, I lowered my eyes, not sure if I could go through with this. Monica sensed my fear, though and gave my hand a comforting squeeze. "Look in the box, darling," she cheerfully said. "There's lots more pretties for you." "Oh, goody," I squealed, careful to keep any hint of sarcasm out of my voice. I pulled the top item out, a princess style petticoat. Its bodice was made of shiny white satin, and its skirts consisted of layers and layers of lacy, frothy organza. "It's beautiful," I whispered, not having to try very hard to sound sincere. "Thank you, Mommy." As I held it up, to appreciative "Oohs" and "Aahs" from the ladies in my audience, Nana had a question that had been on my mind, as well. "Monica, dear, how did you discover Nellie's unusual ..er.. desires?" "Well, a little over a month ago Jennifer came to me complaining that some of her panties were missing," Monica replied as she took the petticoat from my trembling fingers and laid it out next to the dress. "I looked all over the house for them, of course," she continued, "And I was almost ready to give up. But then I decided to search Nellie's room, and sure enough..." I had been staring in awe at the next item in the box, reluctant to even touch it, much less take it out where it could be seen, when I realized where Mommy's story was going. "I didn't STEAL Jennifer's panties!" I protested, fearful everyone would think me some kind of pervert. It suddenly occurred to me that Jennifer was behind this plot to humiliate me, but before I could blurt out this fact, Monica, her tone so icy it sent chills down my spine, scolded me. "It's very rude to interrupt, Nellie, and rude little girls might get spanked. Of course, a little girl who fibs certainly will be spanked!" I started to whimper, sure that I was about to make another trip over Daddy's lap, and I did not dare expose my sister's crime! "Oh, can I spank the sissy this time?" Jennifer piped up, obviously gloating over her total victory. "After all, they were my panties." That would be even worse! She wasn't anywhere near as strong as Daddy, but my bottom was already so sore that it wouldn't matter. And it would be much more humiliating to be laying over my fourteen year old sister's lap crying like a baby and pleading with her to stop spanking me. And even if I did think I was capable of 'Taking it like a man' and not humiliating myself, there was little chance she would stop until I did. Sure that humiliation was inevitable, and hoping to at least be spared pain, I abandoned all pride and started crying and pleading right away. "Please, don't spank me," I wailed, "I wasn't fibbing... I mean.. I.. I..." Unable to think of anything I could say that would spare me, I collapsed into a pitiful, sobbing heap of jelly. Sure that my doom was sealed. But then, like a merciful angel, Monica took pity on me and offered a way out. "I think what Nellie is trying to say is that he wasn't STEALING, he was only BORROWING his big sister's panties," she rationalized, "Isn't that right, Sweetheart?" "Oh, yes, Mommy!" I replied, eternally grateful. Only after I spoke did I realize what I had just admitted to. There was no way I could take my unintended confession back. There was only one thing I could do. "I'm sorry, Jennifer, I shouldn't have BORROWED your panties without asking," I contritely sniffled, head bowed in shame. "I forgive you, little Nellie," Jennifer laughed. "But don't dare do it again," she added, wagging an admonishing finger, "Or big sister will just HAVE to give her little sissy spankies" "Oh, I don't think we have to worry about Nellie raiding any more panty drawers," Erica giggled, "Not now that he has pretty panties of his own." "That's true," Monica agreed. "What are you waiting for, Nellie Darling, show everybody what else I got for you." Unable to stall any longer, I did as instructed. It seemed I did have pretty panties of my own now. VERY pretty panties! They were pink satin, like my dress, and just like my dress they were absolutely dripping in lace and frills. There were three wide rows of ruffled lace across the seat and lace frills edged the waist and the leg openings. Of course, a good little girl would just adore them. So, swallowing my pride once more, I gushed, "Oh, Mommy, they're the prettiest panties I ever saw! I love them! Thank you ever so much!" Monica was very pleased by my reaction, she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Making me glad I had not decided to be difficult. "I'm so glad you like your new clothes, sweetheart," she crooned, "We're going to get along so much better now that I understand what makes you happy. Now take the rest of your new things out." I quickly did so, revealing a pair of white, thigh high stockings, a pair of pink, lacy garters with two pink bows on each side, and a pair of pink Mary Jane shoes with their own little pink bows on the instep. After I had enthusiastically thanked Monica for each "Darling" item, she said, "I know you're just dying to try everything on, sweetie. So lets go see your Daddy's special present for you, and then we can get you dressed. Okay?" In a daze, I nodded. I was filled with trepidation at the prospect of actually wearing my frilly ensemble, and I was more than a little nervous about what my Daddy's gift to me could be. I couldn't imagine what might be so big that it would not fit in the living room. A car was out of the question, the suspension on my license would not be lifted for another year. But I said nothing as Monica pulled me to my feet and led me out, the rest of the assemblage following behind. I had feared being taken outside, still in my sister's pink one piece footed sleepers, and I was somewhat relieved when our little parade took a right turn in the hallway and trooped up the stairs instead. But new fears quickly popped up to replace the old ones. I suddenly realized, with a growing sense of dread, what my Daddy's Christmas present must be. My alarm blossomed into full fledged horror when Monica came to a stop in front of the last door before she and Daddy's bedroom. The nursery! I knew that the nursery was being redecorated, but had paid little attention to the fact, only assuming that a new child was planned for our family. Now I realized that the new child was me! Not at all thrilled with this discovery, fresh tears began to sting my eyes. Monica held one of my trembling hands and Daddy took possession of the other as the family entered the nursery ahead of us, no doubt so they could all see my face as I reacted to my new abode. A fine sight I must have been too! My mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as I frantically searched for something to say. From the pink candy striped wallpaper -- Decorated with images of tiny fairies -- to the lacy white window curtains, there was not a thing in the room to suggest its occupant was anything but a sweet little girl! There was a white youth bed, complete with a safety rail and covered with a pink, quilted satin comforter and big, pink, pillows frilled with white lace. A dainty, white night stand stood next to that, topped with a pink, teddy bear shaped lamp and a Barbie alarm clock. Against one side wall was a large white combination dresser and vanity. It was adorned with two pretty dolls in lacy, pink, satin Victorian dresses on each side the large mirror in the center. The other side of the room was occupied by a small book shelf and a white study desk topped with a brand new {Pink, naturally} computer. Next to the door was a large closet, its sliding doors covered in mirrors edged with pink roses. Thick, soft, coral pink, shag carpeting covered the floor. "Oh, look, our little sissy is so happy he's crying," Erica tittered. "Isn't that sweet?" Happiness was hardly the cause of my tears, and I almost shouted that I wasn't a sissy and I hated the room. But then I saw the worried, expectant faces of Monica and Daddy, and I realized that they had decorated the room out of love and the belief that it was what I really wanted. I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing them -- Or, for that matter, the thought of another spanking if I did! So I again swallowed the lump in my throat that represented my masculine pride {A lump that went down easier each time} and forced a smile "Oh, Daddy, it's... It's beautiful," I gushed through my tears. "Thank you!" Daddy smiled, apparently pleased, and -- knowing it was expected of me -- I ran and jumped into his open arms to receive a loving kiss on my cheek. "I'm happy you like it, Baby Doll," he said as I kissed him back. "It might take me a while to get used to the idea that my grown son would rather be my baby girl, but Daddy loves you, Sweetie, and I'll go along with anything if it will make you happy." I thought of telling him that I DIDN'T want to be a little girl, but I couldn't remember when I had last received such affectionate treatment from him -- Or anyone! -- and I rather enjoyed it. I was beginning to think that maybe having everyone think I was a sissy was not too high a price to pay in exchange for so much love. It also occurred to me that maybe Daddy only loved me now BECAUSE he thought I wanted to be a girl. I didn't have much time to ponder over this odd thought -- and its implications! -- as Monica took me into a hug of her own as soon as Daddy released me. "I'm so proud of you for being such a good little girl, Honey," she cried. "I was so worried you would be prideful and insist you weren't a sissy and be crying and complaining all day! But you've been brave enough to let everyone see the sweet, darling, little girl you've always kept hidden under that pathetic little macho act." Then she kissed me -- On the lips! "Oh, I'm just so proud of you and happy for you that I could cry!" she gushed, kissing me again! After that I was blushing beet red. For the first time in ages I actually felt proud of myself -- For acting like a good little girl! That immediately conflicted with my shame at being such a pathetic excuse for a man. Before my warring emotions could settle their differences, Jennifer hugged me. "Welcome to girlhood, little Nellie," she laughed, "We're going to have so much fun together while I teach my new baby sissy all about being a girl!" Then she kissed me too, only on the cheek, but it had been many years since my sister had shown any affection for me at all. Erica and Nana followed with hugs and kisses and reassuring words of their own, and even Mick hugged and kissed me. What really embarrassed me was that, without thinking, I kissed him right back! In my befuddled state I was not even sure if I was embarrassed because I was really a boy, and boys weren't supposed to kiss other boys. Or because I was a girl, now, and he was a very handsome boy. Erica must have thought my blushing and reluctance to look anyone in the eye was caused by the latter. "Mick, you cradle robber, you!" she mock scolded, snickering. "I think you've caused little Nellie to develop a crush on you." Not trusting my voice, I just stared at my pink clad feet while my ears burned and the whole family had another laugh at my expense. Once more I was indebted to Monica for coming to my rescue. She put her arms around me protectively. "All right, you boys can go back to the living room and do some male bonding," she laughed, gently dismissing my Daddy and Mick, "And we girls will get our little angel all dressed up and pretty as a picture." As soon as the men left the room Monica reached out and quickly unzipped my pajamas. "NO! STOP!" I screeched, trying to twist out of her grasp. She couldn't mean to undress me right there in front of everybody, could she!? Evidently, she did! "Don't be so shy, Baby, it's just us girls here," she stated, brushing aside my desperate efforts to stop her as easily as she ignored my protests. In a flash, my pajamas were laying in a pool around my ankles. I frantically tried to preserve my modesty with my hands. An effort that did not go unnoticed. Jennifer took one of my hands in a firm grip and slapped my bare bottom! She just laughed at my shriek of pain and scolded, "Little girls mustn't touch themselves down there, Sissy Nellie, it's very naughty." Naughty or not, I kept my free hand firmly in place. There was no way I was going to expose myself to a room full of women, especially Erica! But my resolve proved utterly futile. "Your big sister's right, Nellie," Monica said, pulling my hand away and slapping my wrist as if I were just a petulant toddler. Shame as much pain brought tears to my eyes. "The next time you disobey Jennifer, or anyone, you will have to be spanked. Understand?" "Yes, Mommy," I whimpered, there was no use putting up a fight anyway. With Monica holding one hand and Jennifer the other what I wanted to hide was already on full display. I was never very well endowed, and right now, with my manhood all shriveled from fear and embarrassment -- And hairless as a baby's! -- I looked like a very little boy indeed. My fears concerning Erica's reaction to this fact were soon realized. "He's so tiny!" she tittered "No wonder he wants to be a girl." "Now, Erica, it's not nice to tease others about their shortcomings," Nana kindly said, before joining everyone in giggling at her pun. Everyone but me, that is! "Poor Nellie, just a baby boy that never grew up," Jennifer mock sympathized, patting me condescendingly on the head. "Like a little Peter Pan." "Well, he certainly has a little 'peter,'" Erica chortled, "But he's more of a pansy than a pan." I was gratified when both Nana and Monica berated Erica for her crudity. It didn't seem to faze her, though, she just apologized halfheartedly, grinned mockingly and wiggled her pinkie finger -- As if in comparison! I saw red, I wanted to slap that smirk right off her lips! But, with Monica and Jennifer still firmly holding my hands, all I could do was wail in frustration and furiously stamp my feet. That got results. Namely, another slap to my bottom from Jennifer. Amazingly, the shock silenced me. "Bad sissy!" Jennifer lambasted me. "Only spoiled little BABIES throw temper tantrums!" I knew the smart thing would have been to shut up. But being bawled out by my younger sister did nothing to improve my temper "Shut up!" I shouted at her. "You're not the boss of me!" That earned my poor backside another swat. This time from Monica "That's enough out of you, Baby Girl!" she angrily scolded. "It has been made clear that your big sister is your boss, and you are to obey her just like your Daddy or I! You, Little Miss Behavior, have just bought yourself another spanking!" That brought me back to my senses! "I'm sorry, Mommy!" I blubbered, hoping to be shown mercy once more. "Please don't spank me! I'll be a good little girl!" Monica was in no mood to be merciful, though. "I'm sure you are sorry, Nellie, but you're going to be sorrier," she avowed, dragging me toward the bed. "And you had just better be a good little girl from now on, or you'll be sorrier still." I was already weeping, but the next development made me howl! "Shouldn't I spank him this time, Monica?" Jennifer asked. "It was me he was disobedient to." "That's true," Monica replied, thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be best." I could hardly believe it! I had not dared struggle against Monica, but when she gave Jennifer possession of my hand I started fighting for all I was worth. I just COULDN'T let my fourteen year old sister pull me over her knee and spank me like a child! If that happened I would not be able to make the slightest claim to manhood -- Or even adulthood! -- I might as well be the little girl everyone was forcing me to act like! But my struggles were useless. Our progress toward the bed continued at a pace not one whit slower than when Monica was leading me. Soon, I was upended over my younger sister's lap, my legs pinned between her's, and both my arms -- With both slender wrists easily held by one of Jennifer's strong hands! -- twisted behind my back so that I could not EVEN squirm without pain. For all the trouble Jennifer had in completely subduing me, I may as well have been seven years her junior rather than that much older than her. For that matter, I was blubbering just like a frightened seven year old. "Oh, don't be such a crybaby!" Jennifer snickered, playfully patting my vulnerable, pink bottom. "I haven't even touched you yet." "Would you like me to go downstairs and borrow your Daddy's belt, Jennifer?" Monica inquired. Causing me to howl in fear! Jennifer just laughed. "No, he's such a soft little sissy I don't think that will be necessary." The tattered remnants of my masculine pride objected to being called soft, but the rest of me rejoiced at the reprieve. Not for long, though. "Erica? Could you please get me the hairbrush from the vanity?" Jennifer asked, shattering my hope that I had only her feminine hand to fear. Unsurprisingly, Erica was glad to be of help, and my fearful caterwauling only amused Monica and Nana. Not a word was said on my behalf. Apparently, My fate was entirely up to Jennifer's tender mercies, and I wasn't expecting much mercy OR tenderness from her! "Do you remember when we were both little, little sissy?" Jennifer teasingly asked as Erica handed her the hairbrush. "You were such a wimp that all the kids in school picked on you. Didn't they?" Busy sobbing in self pity, I did not reply. So Jennifer applied the brush, forcefully, to get my attention. "Answer me when I talk to you, sissy!" "Yes!" I wailed, "They were always making fun of me and pushing me around." "Oh, poor baby," she mockingly crooned. "But I was smaller than you then, wasn't I?" "Y.. yes?" I whimpered hesitantly, fearing what this was leading to. "Yes, I was," she continued, her voice now cold. "So you would come home and pick on me. Did it make you feel big and strong to push a little girl around?" She punctuated her question with a smack from the brush that made me howl. "I'm sorry, Jennifer," I blubbered, desperately trying to appease her wrath. "I... I just picked on you 'cause... 'cause I was too much of sissy too stand up to the bullies at school!" Inspiration hit me. "You were braver than me, though. You never cried." Jennifer WAS pleased. "That's right, sissy, I was braver," she crowed, her voice now full of good humor. "You DID make me cry, sometimes, but I don't think I cried all the times you bullied me put together as much as you've cried in the last few minutes. So I must have been braver as a little girl than you are now. Don't you think so?" I did not think that was an entirely fair comparison. I had never spanked her right after she had just been spanked by Daddy! But, eager to stay on her good side, I had no choice but to agree. Absolute truth or not. These subtleties were apparently missed by Erica. "God, what a spineless Wimp," she snorted derisively. "Can you believe he'd admit to being a bigger baby than you? When you were -- What? -- ten years old? "I was nine when he went away to Old Ivy," Jennifer snickered. "But I doubt if poor nervous Nellie will ever be as grown up and brave as the average FIVE year old girl. Will you, little sissy?" Knowing that complete submission was my only hope of lessening Jennifer's wrath, I slavishly concurred with her humiliating assessment of my lack of maturity and courage. "I'm glad you agree, little sissy," Jennifer laughed. "Now that you see that you ARE just a very little girl, do you understand why it's so naughty to disobey your big sister? And why you have to be spanked for it?" "Yes," I whimpered, realizing that I had been maneuvered into admitting that I was JUST a child that deserved to be spanked. Jennifer wasn't quite satisfied. "Well, why don't you explain it for us," she prompted, "So we can be sure you DO understand." "Because I'm not grown up enough to know what's right?" I answered after thinking it over. "And I need my big sister to keep me out of trouble?" "Very good, Nellie," Jennifer praised. "So you know I'm not going to punish you out of spite, but for your own good?" "Y... yes," I cried. "I'm sorry I was bad." "I forgive you, sissy," she said warmly. "But I still have to spank you." Ignoring my renewed wails of protest, that's exactly what she did. Rhythmically smacking my tender bottom, alternating between cheeks on each blow, while I howled in agony. Eventually, she stopped. "There, there, little one, go ahead and cry all you want," she soothed. "No one expects a sissy to be brave." I hardly needed permission, I was completely unable to stop crying. The more I tried, the harder the tears flowed. As if some part of me was determined to prove that I was, indeed, a sissy. Only after a long while did my sobs lessen and Jennifer ask, "Do you know what I just spanked you for, baby?" "For ... for disobeying you?" I sniffled. "That's right, Nellie. You're not going to do that again, are you?" "Oh, no, Jennifer, I'll never disobey you again," I answered, sincerely, relieved that my ordeal was finally over. "Good," Jennifer said, then delivered two more swift blows to my much abused cheeks. Taking me completely by surprise! I screamed in anguish, hurt by what I felt was betrayal as much as the blows, and desperately squirmed in an attempt to escape Jennifer's cruel clutches. My wails and hopeless struggles shortly gave gave way to exhaustion, and Jennifer tranquilly pronounced, "THAT was for trying to fight me, little sissy. The next time you deserve a spanking you'd better HOP over the lap of whoever's punishing you. Or you'll get FOUR more swats added on. Understand?" "Yes," I wept. "Please, don't spank me any more." "Not as long as you're a good girl," Jennifer giggled, pulling me up and helping me to stand on shaky legs. I was determined to be a very good girl, or whatever else I had to be to avoid any more spankings. But, without thinking, as soon as I was on my feet I attempted to cover myself with my hands. An attempt that was cut short by a well placed smack. "Good little girls do not touch themselves there," Jennifer said in the patient tone reserved for toddler's. I immediately jerked my elbows to my sides and held my hands up and away from my body. But the urge to protect my modesty was nearly equal to the desire to protect my poor derriere. Almost of their own free will, my hands would inch their way forward and I would nervously jerk them back again until they were flapping like the wings of a wounded bird. At the same time I was self consciously crossing and uncrossing my legs in a squirming, futile effort to lessen my exposure. Nana completely misread my actions. "Do you need to go wee-wee, baby?" she matronly asked. To my surprise, I realized my bladder WAS full, almost painfully so. I had just been too preoccupied to notice. Nodding an affirmative to Nana's question, a plan suddenly occurred to me. Once I was alone, maybe I could sneak off to my room, grab some clothes, and run away. "I'll be right back," I said, my voice cracking a little with nerves, and casually -- I hoped! - - maneuvered toward the door. Monica quickly blocked my way. "Good little girls need to politely ask for permission first," she informed me. "Is there something you want to ask us, Nellie?" I thought this was all rather foolish, but, sensing that it wouldn't be appreciated, I kept my opinion to myself. "Can I go to the bathroom, Mommy?" Monica shook her head. "You're much too little to go ANYWHERE by yourself, baby. Certainly not to the bathroom. Why it's the most dangerous room in the house, and you might have an accident," she declared. "And good little girls should always use good grammar. It's 'May I.' Now try again, sweetie." "MAY I go to the bathroom?" I said sullenly, upset at having my plans thwarted as quickly as they formed and the fact that I WAS NOT a BABY! The restriction of having to be escorted to the BATHROOM was just going too far. I quickly regretted allowing my feelings to show when Monica smacked my burning backside. "Don't you dare use that tone with me, little missy," she scolded, "Or with anyone else, for that matter. Good little girls are always respectful to their betters, and if you can't manage a decently sweet and cheerful tone, then you had better not speak at all. Understand?" "Yes, Mommy?" I squeaked, trying very hard to sound cheerful AND respectful. "May I go to the bathroom?" I simpered as sweetly as I could manage. Desperately hoping that I got it right this time. As soon as I became aware of it, the pressure on my bladder had started to build, and I was beginning to fear that I might have an accident of a different kind than what Monica was worried about. But Monica was not quite satisfied. "You may, but since you are too little to go by yourself, you will have to ask someone to help you." she informed me. "I'm sure your Auntie Erica will be happy to help." I just stood there dumbly. Erica was the last person I wanted to accompany me to the bathroom. "Don't be shy, silly," Monica coaxed, misreading my hesitance. "Go ahead and ask." Fearing that if there was any more delay I would pee right there on the floor -- And probably end up in DIAPERS! -- I had no choice but to further my humiliation. "Auntie Erica, will you take me to the bathroom?" I sweetly asked the smirking girl. That wasn't good enough for her. "What do you need to go to the bathroom for, little one?" she teasingly asked. Again, I just stood there. What did she THINK I needed to go for? Maintaining a respectful and cheerful attitude was rapidly becoming a Herculean task -- And I was no Hercules! "Do you need to wash your hands?" Erica prompted "Or maybe you'd like to powder your nose?" "I need to use the toilet!" I whined, struggling to keep a smile on my lips. "Such language!" Erica exclaimed, pretending outrage. "Little ones should say 'potty.' And it's polite to say please." "Please, Auntie Erica" I whimpered, by now hopping from one foot to the other. "Will you take me to use the potty? Please?" That still wasn't enough to please Erica. "What do you need to use the potty for, dearest?" she giggled, "Do you need to go wee-wee or poo-poo?" I almost screamed in frustration. What possible difference could it make? But I held my temper. "Please, Auntie Erica, I need to pee!" "Only little boys pee-pee," Erica nonchalantly informed me, apparently enjoying watching me squirm. "Little girls go wee-wee. Now start all over again, Nellie, and try to sound like a good little girl should this time." With an effort, I pasted what I hoped was a properly adoring look on my face and simpered "Oh please, Auntie Erica, will you please take me to the bathroom where I can use the potty and go wee-wee? Please?" "Of course, baby, I'll be happy to," she merrily sang, taking my hand to lead me off. "That wasn't so hard, was it, sweetie? And now you know how you should ask to go potty in the future." I readily agreed with her, just glad to finally be on our way. But my suffering was far from over. Walking down the hallway, was a nerve wracking experience for me. I half expected Daddy or Mick to pop out of one of the doors and start ridiculing my hairless, childish body and pathetic excuse for manhood. We reached the safety of the bathroom without incident, though. I let out a sigh of relief and scampered to stand over the toilet, and received a smarting swat from Erica. "Really, Nellie, would a good little girl stand up to go wee-wee?" she taunted, laughing. I hurriedly sat down, blushing beet red, and attempted to finish my business as quickly as possible. But nothing would come! This amused Erica. "Ahh, whassamatta, nervous Nellie? Is you just too shy to wee-wee for Auntie?" she sing-songed, doing nothing to relieve my nerves. Instead kneeling in front of me and pulling my hands away to leer at my shriveled privates. "You really are just like baby, you know, does that tiny toy ever even get stiff like a big boys?" I blushed even brighter. The truth was that I used to masturbate regularly, but since I had moved back home my erections had came less and less frequently. And in the last month I hadn't gotten hard at all! I was relieved that Erica didn't seem to expect an answer. "I know!" she chirped, "Maybe playing a game will take your mind off things and help you get over your shyness!" With that she started to play 'This little piggy' on my toes. It tickled, and I giggled in spite of myself. But, when she got to the end, instead of my little toe she pinched my 'little man' and pulled on it as if she were milking a cow while she sang, "And THIS little piggy went 'wee wee wee' all the way home!" I was absolutely mortified! Great, gasping sobs erupted from me, while Erica almost convulsed in laughter. Whenever her cackles began to slow, she would take one look at me and start braying all over again! I wasn't at all happy to be the cause of such amusement, but, amazingly, her actions had produced a steady trickle. Once her humor settled down she was quick to point this out. "That did the trick, didn't it, baby doll?" she chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Aren't you going to thank me?" 'THANK her?' I seethed 'Somebody ought to spank her!' But I knew that if I didn't do as suggested it would be ME getting spanked! Stamping down my anger, I sweetly replied, "Oh thank you, Auntie Erica, for helping me go wee-wee!" My tummy churned at behaving so cravenly, but I just couldn't bear any more abuse to my poor bottom. So, smiling gratefully, I contritely added, "I'm so lucky to have such a nice Auntie, I don't know WHAT I would have done without you." She was pleased. "That's what Aunties are for, sweetheart," she giggled, taking a tissue and wiping me! "Helpless little things like you need all the help they can get, after all. Isn't that right?" "Yes, Auntie," I chirped in reply. One thought cheered me as she took my hand to lead me back to the nursery. Nothing worse could possibly happen. As Erica dragged me into the nursery I tried to stay behind her, not yet comfortable with being completely bare in front of so many women. But she forced me into the front. "You're not still shy about your little wee-wee are you, Nellie? We've all seen babies before," she giggled. "Little ones Nellie's age are often embarrassed easily," Nana offered. "Why, I was awfully shy even into my teens. But when my Momma started entering me in beauty pageants she found a cure for shyness." "Really, Mom? What was it?" Monica asked, curious. "Oh, it was horrible is what it was," Nana laughed. "She made me practice my poise and charm lessons in the all together. Right in the living room, too. And it didn't matter who was already there or who walked in, even Daddy or my brothers. If I so much as paused, much less stop and try to cover myself, she would hit me with a switch. After a week of that, well, I was never the least bit shy, about anything." "Well, I'm sure Nellie could use some charm lessons," Jennifer suggested, snickering. "That's true," Monica said. "And he really needs to get over his body shyness. Do you think you could help, Mom?" "I'd be glad to, Dear," Nana replied, looking me over. "I think we'll start with getting our little dolly used to being seen," she said, smiling and gesturing for me to come to her. I obeyed readily, eager to please -- Not to mention terrified of the consequences of failing to do so! I was stood before her, trembling, but with a simpering smile pasted to my lips. Smiling down at me, she said, "Raise your arms over your head and rest your fingertips on the top of your head, sweetie." I quickly complied "Very good, Dearie, now stand up on the tips of your little toes, close your eyes and pretend your a little music box ballerina in a pretty pink tutu. Can you do that for Nana?" Feeling like a silly fairy, I nodded nevertheless. "That's Nana's darling" she praised "Now, my little ballerina, Nana wants you to pirouette and show everybody what a pretty little dolly you are." I slowly turned a full revolution, blushing as pink as any tutu, and looked up to Nana for approval. Really hoping that would be an end to it, I didn't like the idea of pretending to be a ballerina or a doll, much less both. "That was very nice, sweetheart," Nana said, raising my hopes, before trampling on them. "But music box ballerinas spin around and around. And don't stop until they wind down. Do you need Nana to wind you up first?" "Oh, no, Nana," I bleated, getting the message and starting to spin. I did not want to discover what "winding me up" might be. I was quite dizzy by the time Nana allowed me to stop. "Now let's work on your poise, angel. Posture first," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "Back straight, knees together, suck in your tummy and stick out you chest," she ordered, using her hands to force me, like a doll, into the desired pose. "Elbows to your side and bent up, dearie, and, unless they're otherwise occupied, your hands should always be held gracefully above your elbows, like a sweet little butterfly about to flutter away." She stood back to observe her handiwork. "Oh, sweetheart, you're a natural," she beamed. "That's the way you should always pose when you're standing or walking. Now let's practice your walk. Walk over to your Mommy and then back to me." I did as asked, but I'd only taken two steps before Nana corrected me. "Don't stomp, Nellie, you're not a horse. Picture yourself as a dainty little fairy, gracefully gliding across a flower petal." I blushed, but tried my best to obey. Nana still wasn't satisfied. "Keep your knees together, princess, take short, dainty steps. Place the heel of your leading foot directly in front of the other. There you go, sweetie. Don't dawdle now, step a little quicker. Perfect!" I didn't feel perfect. Shamefully effeminate was more like it. But Monica gave me a kiss and a hug when I reached her, bolstering my spirit. Elated that she was no longer angry at me, I turned and walked back to Nana with a genuinely proud smile. I pretended not to hear Jennifer's sniggering remark about how much my backside jiggled, or Erica's snide retort of how it was 'so sad' that the 'poor little thing' didn't have anything up front big enough to jiggle. I was determined to learn proper poise to Nana's satisfaction as quickly as possible. The sooner this was over with, the sooner I could put some clothes on. I might not have gotten over my shyness, but I had completely lost any reservations about wearing a dress. So, when Nana stopped my lessons and asked if I was ready to put on my dress, I clapped my hands in unfeigned glee and squealed, "Oh yes, Nana! May I? Please?" Monica appreciated my enthusiasm. "Well, let's get started then, sweetheart," she beamed. "I'll bet you're going to be the prettiest sissy in town." "Oh, I'm SO glad!" I squealed in reply, not having to try very hard to sound sincere. I just wanted to get some clothes on. Any clothes! "Well, here's your pretty sissy panties to start with, little sissy," Jennifer giggled, holding the pink lacy mass out to me. I had forgotten just how frilly they were, and my zeal lessened somewhat "Thank you," I mumbled, abashed, and reached out to take the panties. Only to have Jennifer snatch them away! "That didn't sound very eager, sissy," she scolded. "Since you went to all the trouble of BORROWING my panties -- Without asking! -- you should be very enthusiastic to wear your very own pretty pink panties!" I had no choice. It was either stand there in my birthday suit all day, or... "Oh please, Jennifer, may I put on my pretty sissy panties?" I shamelessly begged. "I've always wanted to have some of my very own! Especially such darling, frilly ones like those! Oh, please let me put them on now? Pretty please? I promise I'll be a good little..." "Okay, Okay, little sissy, since you insist," Jennifer laughed, cutting off my increasingly frantic pleas and kneeling down in front of me. "Lift up your foot and big sister will help you into your 'darling, frilly, sissy,' panties." I complied, blushing furiously as she slid them up my legs. I tried to take over as soon as she had them past my knees, but Jennifer slapped my hands away. "Stand still, sissy," she reprimanded, "I know you can hardly wait, but you'll be in panties soon enough. So let big sister finish," she teased, pulling the degrading garment the rest of the way up and settling them into place with a stinging snap of the waistband. "There you go, sissy," she chirped, ignoring my outraged yelp of pain and brazenly patting the front of my panties. Then she slipped her hand inside and brazenly fondled me! "I'm so glad your still soft," she chirped. "That makes things so much easier," "I would have thought he'd ..um.. be showing a little excitement by now. Seeing as he likes panties so much," Erica observed. "I'd have thought so, too," Monica said, her voice full of maternal concern. "You do get erections, don't you, sweetheart?" she asked. I was blushing so much my hair must have turned pink. "Yes!" I squawked, but Monica's raised eyebrow forced me to amend, "Well, sometimes? I mean.. I used to, but.. but not lately?" I finished with a whimper. "Hmm... Well, that would explain why your room hasn't smelled, lately, like it used to," Monica mused. "You poor dear, you have been suffering a lot from stress, haven't you?" she soothingly said "But I'll make an appointment with Dr. Samuels for you, and I'm sure she'll make it all better." "Thank you, Mommy?" I whispered, flustered and not knowing what else I COULD say. "It'll be okay, little sissy," Jennifer consoled me, her hand still fondling my shrunken manhood. "You don't really need those nasty things anyway. And it will help you look so much prettier in your panties." She then deftly pushed my testicles inside my body cavity and quickly tugged up my panties to hold them in place. "Now, Nellie," she instructed, "I want you to look up at me and put your arms around my neck." Automatically, I did as I was told. "Hold on tight now," she said, and grabbed the waistband of my pantie