Prissy Sissy
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Prissy's Sissy
Chapter I Portland, Oregon, January 5, 2005...
"I'll take this one," Alexandria del Torez said, looking at the profile
of Randy Grey. "I think, this one will do fine."
Miss Fredericks, a kind tanned lady, scrunched her eyes, doubtful.
Tired of Mz Torez, she still asked, "Are you sure, Ms. Torez? We have
no references on him, and he comes from the south, so, no offense, he's
probably stupid." She winced at herself for saying that, but wasn't it
true?
Alex, as she was called by her friends, of whom she had few, since she
was after all, cantankerous to say the least, and a demon from hell to
say the worst, burned. "I am from Mississippi, honey cheeks, and are
you, you dim coffee grinding grunge, going to call me and my kin, call
us'm dumb? For shame on you!"
"I meant," began Miss Fredericks, blushing, and annoyed at being
brought down by this tiresome glamorous Torez, "he's got no
connections. No family. A job at McD's. At least he has a certificate
as a certified medical assistant, which we investigated. It checks. So
we added him to our roster, but, Miss Torez, if the last three didn't
work out for you, all with better credentials, why this one. Miss
Torez, let me show you some I would recom---"
Eyes blazing, Alex leaned forward, showing her full breasts under a low
cut blouse. "You, hussy, recommend. I choose. I! Pay the commission.
You vet them."
Her eyes were sunfire, she could do that, without really getting mad.
It was the blue in them, and the ice. It was a tool of hers, and
Alexandria knew this well. It tended to crumple their tee pee, melt
their kite, make them listen.
"Yes, of course," Miss Fredericks ventured, knowing that she had
received a very fine commission on all of the nannies that she had, and
they together, agreed upon.
But none of them had lasted a week, all had quit. Three of them in
three weeks. One had been a petite Asian girl, loving of children and
quiet, almost coy. That had lasted a day. Another, from Rumania, had
abruptly, in her bad accent, had said, 'I did not come to America for
this.' The last, yesterday, simply said, 'Too freaky.' And now Ms Torez
was back. More commission of course, hassle yes. But she was also
concerned about the company's reputation. Nannies were very underpaid
for the responsibilities placed upon them, and bad nannies made bad
news. Bad news could kill the referral agency that referred them.
"When would you like to interview him, Ms Torez?"
"Now," Alex said, looking at the photograph, with the measurements and
byline next to it.
Randy Grey's profile showed him to be a somewhat delicate man, which
made sense, in a way, for being a male nurse. Maybe it was stereotype,
but since She fit in with her stereotypes, he could as well, she
thought. The eyes were soft blue, the hair thin blonde, balding maybe.
The mouth was simply too red, like he was wearing lipstick, although
She knew he was not. She smiled. Maybe he just ate a pomegranate. The
cheekbones showed, and he looked gaunt.
Alex skipped over to the profile.
It said.
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 140
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Education: GRS diploma, certified nurse assistant degree.
Age: 19
Hobbies: None
Goals: To help people
She looked back at the picture. She liked some of what she saw, but
also saw that he slouched, like he was afraid. Of life? Or had no
respect for himself. Hmmm. She thought, vaguely, we will fix the
slouch, but the rest is. My food.
No connections, away from home. No protest...
"I can't arrange this now," said Ms Fredericks, somewhat alarmed. "I
don't know if Mister Grey is at home."
"Call him. He's home." Alex said, looking at the picture.
Chapter II
She knew he was timid, and She needed help. So She dressed quiet. As
quiet as She could, which was not at all, quiet. Heads turned. For
Alexandria could do this in Her sleep. And did.
Pale kid skin thigh high boots, with a suede dress to match with high
slits, this one hiding her massive breasts, but showing them. She wore
the least makeup she could, though it was still strong - she was
addicted to false eyelashes and mascara. Purple was her favorite color.
And her dragon nails were done as such as well. She had decided against
her silver jewelry, and worn none. Not this day.
The Mexi's Bar was quiet at 2pm. It didn't start kicking till later,
much later. She knew.
So when She entered, there were only four people. Her, two guys at the
bar, whose eyes rolled up and down Her, and made her tingle, and
Randolf Grey. He was seated at a table, slight, stooped, old, young,
forlorn.
She put on a smile, kindly. "Randy?" She said shyly, slyly, not at all.
Randy turned. Looked up. Looked down. Skated a glance at Her boots.
Shakily, looked up again. "Ms Alexandria?"
"Yes."
Dumbly, he got out of his chair, knocking it back to fall, and graced
her into hers. She sat. He looked at his, blushed, picked it up, and
sat. Reddening.
Randy tried to be polite. "What are, er, you dri---" He faded on this.
"Order us some dom perignon. A bottle."
The waiter came over. Randy ordered, but he blustered. He had dressed
up for this interview. Bad suit, bad tie, bad shoes. Randy had no
class, but he tried. "Mom's clarion? Please? For the both of us?"
The waiter looked at both of them, speechless, wondering whether to
laugh.
Alexandria said, "A bottle of Dom. Hasten." Looking over at Randy,
said, "No nerves hon. I'm not hiring you to be my husband. Indeed, I
need a nanny for my husband."
Her eyes were quiet, but they read, they read him and he felt naked in
an almost bad way. It was a feeling that was not new to him, and he was
used to it. He always felt exposed, and sort of creeped out when he
left his little apartment. But he wasn't used to the burning intensity
of the incredibly beautiful lady before him.
Chapter III Portland, Oregon, January 6, 2005
Randolf Gray wore the same suit and tie that he had worn the day
before, when, at the conclusion of the interview with Ms. Torez, he was
hired. He looked a little tacky, a little slouched, but less so than
usual, because now, finally, he was employed.
It had become decidedly dicey, his predicament. It was the typical
predicament of the bottom fish that rest upon the slimey sand of the
sea. No looks, no friends, no connections, no family, and most
importantly, no money. His seedy studio apartment was quiet except for
the dripping of the leaky faucet; the wife smacking abuse next door;
the thomping from the prostitutes above as they made their money; the
sirens from outside his window, reacting to the last crack head fire
fight; the drunk man slobbering around the hallway banging on doors to
ask for money. He had no television, he had no confidence. And he was
running out of money. McDonald's was beginning to look like a good
prospect as a place to start a career.
But that was then. Now he strolled up the long, long driveway to Ms
Torez house, which loomed large ahead. A smile, something that he
rarely carried, found itself upon his face, and he hastened his step.
The interview had been, well, strange. He hadn't really expected the
interview in the first place, he'd been desperate. He hadn't expected
Ms Alex, as She told him to address her as, to be so intimidatingly
beautiful. And gracious too. She had complimented him on his tie even.
He was glad that She liked it, since he had had it for about six years:
It was red with polka dots of blue, frayed. Old. It was his favorite
tie. It was his only tie.
"You need a nanny for your husband," he had asked, disbelieving.
Ms Alex had blushed, clearly embarrassed, "Yes. I do. He's a good man,
really, but oh, the work he worked stressed him. He had a stroke. He
went a bit off and though he isn't impaired, he changed. The doctors
say he suffers from sissienphalitus."
"What?"
"He's regressed. It's been so hard on me. I try and try to help him,
but I have to work too. To take care of us, and I can't be there all
the time, and then he's alone and I, I need help. Help me."
It had come out in a rush, her confession, such that Randy had to say,
"I will help you if you let me."
The change in her eyes, from forlorn to joy, had disconcerted him, but
that feeling left, when she said, "You're hired. I pay three thousand a
month. You work nine to five, but are on call, if hubby needs you in an
emergency."
He had agreed, gladly, not realizing then that everything was an
emergency, that emergency was the same as breathing, that once he
entered this mansion, he wouldn't leave it for nine months.
Knock knock.
The door opened, and there was Ms Alex, in splendor. Her Make up was
LOUD, and strong, her eyes stunning. The cinched waist seemed to help
to push her breasts high and pert. She tottered on height defying
heels. Her black pleated chearleader's skirt showed stocking, and Randy
tried but failed to not notice.
But she noticed and hid a smile. "Do come in, Randy. Let me show you
about."
"Thank you, Ms Alex. And, um, um, um," He trailed off, unsure.
"Randy?"
"Um, thank you for hiring me."
He was looking at the floor, at her heels, but not, definitely not at
her beautiful legs clad in cross stitch colorful stockings. No he
wasn't looking at that. Er those. Um them, the legs. He blushed.
The house was common but stern. Squared, he noticed. Precise. In the
living room all the paintings and pictures were set perfectly apart by
two inches. The long couch was covered in plastic, the path to it was
as well.
Ms Alex explained, "Sometimes my husband likes to watch television. I
don't like messes. Part of your job is to maid the house and keep it
clean. In the shed out back, there's as much plastic as you need to
make sure my house is kept the way I like it."
He stammered, "And and, what way would you have me make this, er...
likeable?"
"Spotless, of course. You're not just a nanny, but also a maid."
Randy didn't like the authoritarian in that, but said nothing.
Ms Alex looked at him, forcefully. "I'm paying you three kay a month,
babe. I expect return on benefits given."
The kitchen was clean, stainless steel and spotless and large. "I
expect you to cook well, although my husband only eats Gerbers. The
jars are here."
She didn't notice his discomfiture. "Let's go meet my hubby now, then.
You are going to be his nanny, under my instruction."
They went up the stairs, and the house changed. "I don't usually let
hubby down from here, he might fall."
Downstairs it had been austere, clinical. Now if was... well, fluffy.
The carpet was plush and pink, and there was a scent of lavender.
Pictures of teddy bears and rabbits lined the short hallway. At its end
was a massive red door. Ms. Alex produced a set of keys.
"I will get a set for you too, hon."
She stopped and looked at Randy, apprehension showing on her face.
"Please don't be shocked at what you see beyond this door. It's... it's
taken a long time for me to get used to this as well, but..." She
trailed off.
To Randy, it looked as if Ms Alex was going to cry, the tear was
brimming on her lid. He felt an unexpected sympathy and almost gave her
a hug, but was simply too intimidated by her beauty.
Instead, "It's okay, Ms Alex, and thank you for warning me. But I am a
professional."
Alexandria gave a weak smile, hid the smirk. She felt pretty clear that
he wasn't a professional at all, which was all to the good, since she
would be telling him exactly what to do soon enough. But for now,
pretenses had to be kept up, and she had no trouble with acting.
"Oh Randy, thank you," she said in a rush and to his amazement, gave
him a big, tight hug that mashed her breasts into his chest, flared his
nostrils with her perfume and almost made his legs buckle.
He'd never been this close to even a remotely attractive woman, let
alone the divine beauty of Ms Alex. He almost panicked. His knees went
weak.
Alexandria smiled, seemingly reinforced. She looked him in the eye, and
enjoyed when his eyes darted away, unable to hold the gaze, and looked
at her boots.
Inside was her husband, and in her love and jealousy of him, she had
destroyed him. It hadn't been intentional; she had just been so so very
possessive. She'd gone too far, and both of them knew it, but he knew
it less than she because of the drugs she fed him with his food.
She turned, unlocked the door, swung it open. He watched her, her
perfect body, those heels, the legs, that waist. For a moment he
suspected that Ms Alex was wearing a corset. But then he saw the room.
And the sissy husband suffering from sissyenphalitus.
She beckoned, with her purple nails and he went in, stunned. He stopped
just past the door. She nudged him further, and with a noise, the door
shut behind them.
And Randolf Grey stood paralyzed and stunned beyond comprehension.
This, Randy realized, was why the hallway was so short, because the
room, or rooms, were enormous. It was the entire top story of the
mansion. And it was clinically insane!
The space of the area was at least one hundred feet wide by at least
three hundred long. The ceiling, floor and walls were all mirrors.
There were no windows. The area was partitioned into a number of rooms
with walls made out of clear plastic or acrylic. Randy couldn't be
sure, possibly thick glass.
And there were no windows to outside land. The only door to outside
land was right behind him and three thousand a month or not, it was
calling him loudly to open it and run, run, run.
Then he heard it click.
"Ms Alex," he heard himself mumble in a dazed sort of way. "What is
this place?"
She turned to him, again apprehensive, and gave him a deep heart-
melting kiss that made his loins hot. It was a long kiss and she moaned
against him.
When she pulled back, her eyes a bit glazed, she said, "Home."
She caressed him and told him to look around, get a feel for the place.
The center space, where Randy now stood, was like a foyer. A desk stood
close to the wall, a captain's chair behind it. With a computer.
"You'll receive some instructions there, hon, so monitor your e-mail.
Listen for me."
Ms Alex then did a twirl in her stilettos and hugged him again. He
melted. Again.
To the left was a kitchen, toilet, and cot. She pointed, "For You, but
only if we have emergencies."
Center was, what Randy could only construe as a dungeon, with many
devices. Next to that was a kind of bathroom, but as with everything
else, all the fixings were clear and see through - the toilet, sink,
piping, shower. Even the showerhead. Completely exposed. Totally
visible.
To the right, the sissy, in its room, watching tellytubbies on a big
screen television. This, too was made of a clear casing, so that he
could see the cathode tube inside.
Farther away was another room, "Your's" she said to him, pointing. "For
dressing."
An open closet showed practically the only color in the room with
clothing of many hues - pinks and lavenders and blues. To Randy, they
looked like dresses, but it was so far away, he couldn't be sure. He
couldn't take it all in. This simply was way way too much for him.
"I expect you to keep this place spotless," Alexandria was saying. "I
will notice every spot, dot and speck. I pay for, and demand,
excellence." She was holding his hand tightly, nervously, needy.
Randy looked at her, noticing that when she was flushed with excitement
or fear, the colors brought out her beauty even more forcefully. The
colors of her face and eyes, the long lashes, the dangling earrings and
her god beautiful breasts. He wanted to say no, no Ms Alex, you are
beautiful but insane. He wanted to tell her he had to go, that he had a
job interview at McDonald's.
"I will do my best, Ms Alex. Thank you for hiring me." he whispered.
Her smile was bright and sincere and at that time, without malice. She
kissed him again. "Thank you, thank you! Now we need to meet my
husband. I will tell you how he needs to be cared for. By the way, his
name is Prissy. He just loves that name. After that, I want to fuck
you."
Aspen
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