Intro to Sissies XI
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Intro To Sissies XXV: Final Chapter free porn video
Intro to Sissies XXV: Sissy Final
The last chapter of, "The Total Sissification of John Phillips"
By latexslut
Home. His gate. His walkway. His grass. His flowers. And ahead, the
massive front door to His house. He had made the money to buy it, live
in it, love it. And now, under the full moon, it beckoned in bright
shadows, darkly. The porch lights were off, the walkway lights were
off. There were no lights on in the house, except for the ones in his
and Marie's bedroom upstairs. Home. Finally.
An end to the nightmare John Phillips never saw coming. Never knew
could happen. Not to him. Not to anyone. Strange worlds had collided
and he had slipstreamed on the wrong side of time, but now he was back.
Home. Finally.
He felt giddy.
He had felt sad tottering away from Mistress Satin. He had felt her
pain. And the resignation of the others in his clan. Mandy, Bunny,
Nurse, Miss Purple, the others, left behind. During the drive over, he
had pondered this and swore to himself that with his resources and
money, he would find a way to set them free. Weird they were, but they
had been kind. And despite himself and strangeness of the situation, he
felt that he loved them. Especially Mistress Satin and bunny. Fuck
Goddess Chanazine. Let her see what she's messing with, now that I'm
outside. Free.
The ride in the limousine had been strange. Mistress Orange had been
quiet. Miss Grey had looked concerned. Mistress Red had done most of
the talking, though not much at that.
"Drink some champagne to celebrate, useless."
"Mistress Red, I don't feel so good from last night. If it might be
allowed, could this slut just have some water?"
"No, useless drinks champagne. Useless is not free yet. And useless
smokes. Useless is a slut still."
So he had drank some champagne and smoked during the drive, coughing.
It had felt surreal and still felt that way now. So close.
Mistress Orange turned to John. She held a butt plug with a handle. "I
will put this in you. You will go into your house and upstairs to your
bedroom. Marie will take this out and throw it out of the window. I
will get it. That will be her signal that this contract is concluded.
Do you understand, useless?"
"Yes, Mistress Orange. Thank You, Mistress Orange." John almost
wondered about this, but didn't, vaguely remembering Marie's recent
change of taste in sexual habits. What will it be like now?
Mistress Red glowered, as though she was losing some prime fish. "This
is stupid. Let's just take the slut back and put in her in the dungeon.
Or let her be my toilet."
Miss Gray said, sadly, "Quiet, Red. Chan has taking a liking to this
one and there is a plan here. I'm sure it will suit you fine. It,
however, does not suit me. At all."
Mistress Orange plunged the plug into Joan and his ass sucked it up
needingly. He sighed. Then she unbuckled the plasticine bra to the last
hook, loosened that and attached a string to it. She attached this to
Joan's earring.
John Phillips sighed again. That felt so much better. Now if only they
would loosen this corset. Marie will. He asked, foolishly, "Do I have
to, have to, Mistress Orange, do I have to wear this chastity belt
device in front of my wife?"
"No, actually. That's pricey. It comes home with us. Satin can wear it.
She's in a bit of trouble anyway," Mistress Orange clicked around and
unlocked the stainless steel tube and ball stretcher. Now John Phillips
could feel his huge come loaded balls hanging heavy, his cock hard and
growing. "Feel better?"
He looked down between his tits and saw that his cock had never been so
huge, so massive, so loaded with come. Wow! And still he leaked. "Yes,
Mistress Orange. Useless thanks you."
Suddenly, Mistress Red's voice was kind and sympathetic. "Go then. Go
to your wife, John. Go fast and don't stop." He didn't see her grinning
like a wolf waiting for deer.
John Phillips clicked, baby steps. Now the front door seemed so far in
these shoes. He waved his hands wildly and clicked on. The heels
sounded loud in the silence and he wondered vaguely why his wife wasn't
meeting him at the front door, or gate, with open arms. It's a test, he
thought. A test of my love and forgiveness. After tonight, it will all
be over.
There were three steps to the front door and trying to manage the first
one made him fall over. Nails scraping, he crab walked the next two,
feet in pain, plug handle sticking high into the air.
He reached the front door, but his loins were aching, aching and he
knew he needed release, release. He started to caress himself, sliding
his latex hand over his fat cock. Trembling.
He raised himself up with his other hand on the door knob. I won't come
out here. Inside. Inside. Safety.
So close.
He could feel ages of come build up.
He rubbed faster.
I can't wait.
He opened the door and stepped into darkness.
Marie, I can't wait.
He rubbed faster. The latex and his heat sweat was making his throbbing
cock slippery on layers of someone else come.
He clicked into his house another step, tottered, fell to his knees,
not caring.
Faster.
He felt the first spurt erupt vehemently.
Relief!
The lights clicked on.
"Surprise!"
His eyes were closed, feeling the rush. The second spurt sped out of
him, looping.
Many people began to sing, "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday
to..." and then it faded.
He kept stroking. The third was a gush and he moaned. "My sissy come.
My sissy come."
"Oh, God."
I have more come, enough for Marie. The fourth pulse dribbled in a low
fountain over his latex glove and he immediately began to lick it.
Someone screamed. Through the din of his orgasm, he recognized it as
Rochelle, the wife of his attorney, Jim Stanson. They were friends.
He opened his eyes and they swept the room even as he knelt into sissy
position to suck his sissy juice off the floor.
In the bright lights of the entry, stood more than fifty of his best
friends, associates and wives and husbands. Before him was a birthday
cake on a table. There was Beau, his best friend and partner and his
wife, Sandy. Beside them were Jim and Rochelle. Next to them were the
Mayor, Jack Best and his blue haired wife, Shirley. Congressman White
was with his usual trollop, some girl in a mini and spikes.
His eyes swept over to the other side, as he began to lick, in large
long tongue strokes his sissy juice, moaning ? "Sissy juice, sissy
juice."
Marie's Mom and Dad and then... His heart stopped a moment. His mom,
her face aghast, ashen, horrified.
But he couldn't stop. Lick, savor, taste. Lick savor taste.
He heard the voice of Joan Barkville hitch. "I think I'm going to be
sick." And the clicking away to the bathroom.
White's trollop, oblivious, squealed, "That is so kewl." Congressman
White slapped her, right there, in public.
Lick, savor, taste. Sllllttttt. Slowly it dawned on him. Slowly.
Jen Dawson, a tennis partner that Marie hung around with and that John
Phillips barely knew, said. "This ain't no bachelor party. So who is
this disgusting whore?" She tilted her head sideways. "And why's she
got a dick?"
Someone else, a female by the sound of it, threw up right then and
there, making loud hacking sounds.
Lick later... later. There before him was that fat gob of come from his
first spurt.
And now he could taste betrayal. Like zinc on his tongue. Zinc.
He turned his head sharply to Beau, his best friend. Who would always
understand. Who had saved him before. The tide will bring you in. Don't
fight the tide!
The earring pulled the clasp on the plasticene bra and it sprang open
and fell off, except to dangle heavily on his earring. Come washed over
his body, sliding down, exposing his molars on pierced D cups. And
suddenly, John Phillips couldn't help himself anymore, again.
He began caressing his breasts. Fire! His left hand reached to his plug
and rammed it in and out. And he feebled, "Beau, don't be mad, um, oh
yes, I didn't do this to me, yes! Yes!"
He heard before seeing Beau come over and strike him on the face.
Then Beau said, "What the fuck?"
John Phillips rocked with the blow, looked up, hopefully, but got
distracted by all the come leaking onto the floor from his plasticene
cups. It's a lake. He began to lick, savor taste. There's so much. So
much.
Beau, dressed in a tux and shiny black shoes, kicked him. "What the
hell are you doing?"
The corset shielded some of the impact, but still it hurt and he found
himself on his back, looking up. Stunned, John Phillips blinked. He
looked at Beau, his friend forever. The tide.
"Beau?"
"Where the fuck have you been for four weeks? Marie said you went
hunting! I didn't know you were going and I didn't know you were going
fucking insane! What about the business?"
"I'm not insane, Master Beau. Not yet."
Beau stomped on John Phillips breast. Fire! Then kicked him again and
crouched close, furious. "I am not your fucking master and what the
hell are these?"
Beau pulled one of the nipple teeth.
Fire!
John Phillips lost words, thought, said stupidly. "Will you forgive me
if I please you?"
Beau's eyes widened. He stood up. He walked away. He came back with a
running start and kicked John Phillips in the ribs. "I need to think
about this. You're pissing me off."
Then the front door opened.
"Hi. I'm sorry I'm late," Marie said cheerfully, carrying a briefcase.
She looked around innocently at the crowd of people in her, not his,
her living room. Many looked confused, some ill and some decidedly
pissed. Good.
"John left his briefcase outside. You must have sur-" She paused for
effect. She was dressed to the nines, with a dark tan. High high heels,
polka dot mini skirt, low cut. Nothing else but earrings and lipstick.
"Surprised my husband?"
She looked at John Phillips, her husband of nine years. "Oh my God."
She swooned, dropping the briefcase onto the floor. It fell open.
Papers fluttered out.
Jim Stanson, always accommodating and kind, though freaked out by what
had gone on, strode over and assisted Marie to her feet. Then he knelt
and began to pick up the loose paper. He looked at them. They were
invoices. His eyes widened. He stood.
"Marie, did you know about this?"
Marie, acting wobbly, "Know about what?"
"These invoices. They're from San Francisco. Geeks to Freaks. It's a
transgender place. They do..." Stanson pointed at John. "That."
Beau looked over, puzzled. "How do you know about this place, Jim?"
"We sued them. A guy there got hepatitis. I'll spare you the details,
Beau. But John," he looked down where John Phillips was now looking
mortified, terrified and stroking a rock hard cock with latex hands.
Tears were leaking out of his eyes, messing his make up and making
black stains on his cheeks. "John, what were you doing there? Or
rather, why?"
"useless wasn't. Was not. Not there." He jerked his head to where his
mother had been, but she wasn't there anymore. Nor were Marie's
parents. I am betrayed. His hand kept pumping on its own volition.
"I'm calling the police," Marie said shakily. "Someone needs to find
out what's going on."
"No!" Jim Stanson hated cops. They always fucked things up. "You don't
need the publicity. There's a time and place for this. I think perhaps,
for now, we should find out what's been going on. Beau, there's a place
at the edge of town that deals with this. Subtle and silently."
"And?" Was all Beau said. There is something very off here. Something
stinks in here and it's not just John. I was the last person to arrive
here and there was no briefcase on the porch.
"It's called Terresta's Hospital for Gender Distopia. Very discreet. It
will give us time to sort this out," Stanson sighed. "We've got to put
him somewhere. This is insane." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed
information.
Something clicked in John's brain and he began to mewl, "Not the
Goddess. Please don't take me back to Goddess. Mistress Red makes me
chase cars. Latex sissy wears her come inside out. And and... and, Miss
Grey gave me these and took my teeth. Please Master Jim. Not the
goddess!!!"
The party guests had closed into a bunch, staring warily at him. Now
the mayor announced, "This is disgusting. I can't be a part of this. I
want this shut down and quieted. If the press gets hold of this..." He
let the sentence dangle.
Congressman White took the sentence up. "Make the call Jim. Get John
out of here. And we'll figure things out in the morning. John, you bag
of shit. I don't know what you were thinking when you came in here, but
I can tell you here and now that you are one cooked piece of meat."
"A-and," Joan's voice lept a pitch up, going into terror, trying to
explain and stroking himself, pulling at his nipple, "they made me keep
the whole clans come in my ass over night and drink it the next day."
Losing it.
Rochelle fainted dead away and fell with a thud.
Marie fell to her knees. Fake tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh, John.
John. What have you done to yourself?" She turned her eyes up to Jim.
"I think I've lost my husband. I think my husband broke." She looked
over to Beau. "It's your fault, Beau. You drove him to hard. Money
money money. It's all you care about."
Beau said nothing. He surveyed the scene. Thinking. Something is very
wrong here.
Joan's voice continued talking, but had faded into incomprehensibility.
He came, sending short arcs of white fluid onto the tiled floor and
went into sissy position to lick.
The door banged open suddenly. Two ladies in white coveralls entered
with a gurney.
Joan didn't recognize them at first as they lifted him into the
stretcher. They wore only the faintest of make up and their wild hair
was tightened into professional pony tails. And then he began to scream
and writhe.
"N-no. no. Not you Mistress Red. Orange, don't take me away.
Donnnnn't!"
"Definitely hysterical," Mistress Red said and slapped him. Mistress
Orange fought and fastened Joan's arms and legs to the leather straps
on the gurney.
"It's for the best, Marie," said Jim Stanson. "We will sort all of this
out tomorrow, but he may have to stay there for a while."
"I... I understand." Marie lifted herself and went over to her husband.
"I love you, John. I really do. We'll make this work." And then she
fell to her knees, hitching with tears.
Stanson said, "Marie, I am sorry to tell you this, but as your
attorney, I must disclose that based on what I've seen here tonight,
you're husband may have to be institutionalized."
"W-what does that mean?"
"Declared insane. You would, of course, be his guardian."
Marie burst into fresh tears, hitching.
Joan was screaming incomprehensibly and Mistress Red let him, smiling
at her dear, dear deer.
When Beau saw Marie glance at him, he felt sure. This is an act. This
is a play.
He thought. John, his best friend, was just like him. They liked, had
always liked, a woman who was top heavy in short skirts and high heels.
Standard. Normal. They had shared their deepest thoughts, fears,
dreams. Beau had never seen this coming and now he felt, neither had
John. He felt sorry for having kick John. But he stood in place and
watched. Thinking.
The gurney rolled into the black ambulance with a smack. The doors
shut.
Now John was screaming insanely. "Naaaaooooo! Naaaooo! I want to go
home. I waaaannnnt to go home."
The partition to the driver's cabin opened and Goddesss Chanazine el
Torresta rel Delmar looked back on her charge. She was in black slacks
and tunic, a chauffeur's cap on her head. Her make up was stunning.
"Remember what I told you, useless? Remember what I told you I would
make you?"
Joan's eyes bugged out. He had felt the itch of horror and felt it
creep and now he saw the why of it. For a moment, all speech left him.
"I told you I would make you despair." The Goddess smiled, kindly,
knowingly. "And I will."
And then Joan screamed louder, loudest, ripping his vocal cords.
"Naaaoooo! Naaaaooooo! I waaaannnntt t'go hooome!"
The ambulance lurched into motion, picking up momentum.
"Whatever you want, useless. Whatever you want," The Goddess said and
Mistress Red began to laugh. "You want to go home. Well now."
The Goddess smiled. Then she said, slowly, smiling with beautiful white
shark teeth "I. Am. Taking. You. There. I. Am. Taking. You. Home."
She looked over to Mistress Red. "I am sure useless will like it
there."
As the ambulance sped down the lanes towards Torresta's Hospital for
Gender Dystopia, the Goddess smiled. Mistress Red laughed.
And Joan screamed.
End of Part 1 of The total sissification of John Phillips.
Epilogue:
Beau Johnson walked to the front door, sparing a glance at Swanson and
Marie, saying nothing. He left. He got into his car and went to his
office. He turned on his computer. He searched for an answer. And a
solution.
Authors note:
All in all, my opinion, not bad for a first draft. I didn't know where
I wanted to take this, but I do know that I wanted to set a stage that
would leave it wide open, never ending and full, with many characters.
To critique myself, I over extended. Too many people and some of the
characters are just not fleshed out enough. I know this. It could be
made into one of those universe things (sans the magic).
I think, on rewrite, I can fix that. Who knows?
This is the end of part 1. My next story posted will actually be a love
story. Yet on the other hand, this is a love story too, similar to the
Descent/Ascent story. In the end, after all of the horror, our hero
will find happiness.
This is a love story too. Not about husband and wife. But about best
friends. Beau and John (and no, they will not become partners).
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments and critique,
especially to many.
I know this got dark. It was meant to. And it's not over.
I remember reading a tale here about a nasty lady who yanked our hero's
teeth out and totally changed him into a slut. I remember reading
stories where our hero got put into diapers and changlinged into a
puppet. I remember reading stories of sadism and abuse and pain and
love and kindness and all of that.
I recall the criticism the authors got.
But, dear readers, remember this. It's just a story. Good bad or
indifferent, it's just a story. And writing badly is better than not
writing at all (though, I suppose, that's a matter of opinion).
Be well.
Fay
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