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Classroom Sissy By Cassandra Morgan I did it! I got in! Me! Geeky Brad Hollins. I'm one of the 10! I'm finally accepted! I'm finally one of the chosen few! I never thought I had a chance. After all, more than 200 students apply for the 10 every year, and 190 of them go away disappointed. Only the finest minds at Calvin Coolidge Community College (CCCC) get a Golden Ticket. And I'm Willie Wonka! Whee! You've heard of the 10, haven't you? It's a secret honor society at CCCC, kind of what the Skull and Bones is at Yale or the Flat Hat Club is at William and Mary or the Order of the Bulls' Blood is at Rutgers. Only at CCCC, the 10 is an honor society reserved for the Psychology Department, and in particular the Human Sexuality Department. Every year, 10 rising juniors are selected. They spend a year adopting a certain lifestyle, taking notes, doing a term paper on it. Now, you can quit if you want to, but if you do, they freeze your grades and flunk you out of school, so no one challenges them. Me? I was thrilled to be selected. Look, I'm not the biggest guy, and I'm not the smartest, and I'm certainly not the most popular. I'm about 5-6, 130 pounds, a wispy guy who kind of fades into the woodwork when he isn't being made fun of. My grades aren't particularly great, and my social standing isn't particularly lofty. I have no idea what a guy like me is doing in the 10. Okay, okay. I know what you're thinking. Some if the 10 purportedly live a gay lifestyle for a year. But they can always fake it, as long as they say so in the notes. This is about research! This is about education! I'm straight, but I could act gay for a year for all the prestige and opportunities that open themselves to a member of the 10. I think the governor of Ohio was in the 10. And one of the state senators. And no one ever asks them if they spent a year being gay. I took my invitation, and I headed toward the Magnus Center, where the CCCC psych department is. I bounced up the steps and went into the room. There were several of us already there. Janie Palmer, the singer. Lucas Henderson, the football player. Trina Matthews. A big guy I didn't know, Barry something-or-other. Matt Parker. Ben Logan. A girl I didn't know, Laura I think. Glenn Rogers. A peppy girl named Harmony Jenson came in late. And me. The 10. "Four chicks?" said Matt. "Why only four chicks." "Because you're going to be a fag, Matt," Ben said. "You and this wussy boy. Brad, right, Tinkerbell?" "Ah, leave him alone," Trina said. "He can't help it if he's gay." "But I'm not..." "Not going to respond to your kind of bigot," Janie said. "Its none of your business if Brad flies with the fairies." "But I don't..." "He doesn't care what you think," the unknown girl said. "You'd be lucky to land a partner as sweet as Brad and his bouncing butt here." Suddenly, a door opened, and a severe looking woman and a hawk-nosed man came into the room. Everyone fell quiet. The woman had gray in her hair. The man had barely any hair at all. They each had their own notes and kept rifling through them. "You are the 10," she said. "Congratulations. I am Hildy Rutledge. This is Otto Meyerson. He'll be writing this year's book. You do know there is a book every year? Well, Dr. Meyerson will be writing it this year with your help. You will assume the roles assigned to you, and you will take careful notes. If you encounter bigotry, or support, you are to take note. Now, are we all agreed on whether to proceed." I nodded. Other heads nodded, too. I was scared. But I looked at Harmony, and I would die to be coupled with her. Or this other girl, who I was told was named Laura. "Okay," Mrs. Rutledge said. "We'll get straight into it. Here are your assignments, chosen after the battery of mental tests you took and your psycho-analysis. You all had physicals, but those won't play nearly as big a part as the other two. "Ready?" We looked at each other, like Butch looked at Sundance before the bullets. This was for a year. Oh, God, what had I signed up for? "First, we have Janie and Lucas. A straight, interracial couple. Not so rare as it used to be, but there is still a lot of prejudice out there against a cute little blonde like Janie. I'm sure you two will be a fine fit. I will need public displays of affection. Okay?" "Second, we have Matt and Glenn. You're going to be same-sex newlyweds. Okay? Matt, you'll be bisexual. Glenn, you're 100 percent gay. The bottom, in the language of the gay underworld. I'm sure you'll be happy. It isn't every day a boy becomes a bride. Now, let me stress this. You are NOT required to have sex. You can always fake it. No one is going to check. No pressure here." Regardless of whether they had sex or not, thank God, I wasn't one of them! Look, I have nothing against gay people. People have been mistaking me for one forever. I just didn't want to be one, not in the 10. "Third, we have Harmony and Jenny. Our lovely lesbian couple. Jenny, you'll be the more assertive lesbian here. You aren't quite butch, of course. Well, maybe compared to the fair Harmony. But you two should fit together nicely. I trust your parents will be accepting. "Fourth, we have Trina and Barry. Or maybe we should cal them Dino and Sherry. You two will be role-swappers. Barry, you'll be a male-to- female transexual. Trina. You'll be a female-to-male. You two will be Chaz Bono and Caitlyn Jenner. The skirt will be on the other rear, if you please." I looked across the room. There was the girl I didn't know, a tall, brunette with great eyes. And me. Glory be, I had hit the jackpot. "Ah, Laura and Brad. You two are going to be such a sweet couple. You really are perfect for each other. The stars of our class, I think. Laura, you will be Mistress Sinbad, a quite forceful woman who will rule this relationship. And you, Brad, you will be Bethany. Her sissy." Something sucked up all the air in the room. The lights swirled. My eyes rolled back in my head. This, I was later told, is what it feels like when you faint. * * * A sissy? How was being a sissy essentially any different from being gay, like Matt and Glenn? How was it different than being a transvestite, like Barry? In some ways, it was worse. Matt could walk across campus, and no one would know he was living as a gay man. But a sissy? Everyone can tell. Everyone can laugh. I was aware of all of these faces around me. There was a sadness in their eyes despite the sentence each of them had been presented. This was the honor I had so desperately wanted? What happened to the straight couples I had heard about? The Cuban man and Canadian girl? The Russian man and the Jamaican girl? The old woman and the little boy? The grown man and age-play girl in diapers? Mrs. Rutledge smiled at me. She nodded maternally, as if she understood. She patted my hand. "Sweetheart, you fainted," she said. "I was just explaining to the group about your role. Bethany, you are the classroom sissy. A submissive, pliable sissy. You will serve Mistress Sinbad directly, and for one night each month,you will be loaned out to one of our other couples to, shall we say, spice things up. But for most of the time, you will make your Mistress happy. "You will clean, and you will cook, and you will launder. You will present as female, fully, in maid's dresses and makeup. I know. All sissies don't do this. But you will. You will wear breast forms until you decide eventually to let your own breasts grow in. And you will keep careful notes to tell our constituents what this lifestyle entails. As a sissy, you will give birth to the strongest of emotions, the fiercest of bigotries. Oh, Bethany, just think of the research you will be privy to. It isn't just about pretty clothes and wanton sex. It's about education!" Her words were familiar, but they seemed to make no sense to me. I was a sissy? I had to clean and grow breasts? I had to wear dresses? I shook my head. "Mrs. Rutledge," I said. "I'm not a sissy. I never have been. There has been a mistake." She smiled wider. "Oh, the tests don't make mistakes, Bethany. You underwent extensive evaluations. You are a sissy. And if this test hadn't made you one, well, life eventually would have. You think Matty thinks of himself as gay? You think Harmony does? Of course not. That's why you were picked, dear. That's what the next year is for, dear. Do you know that 94 percent of our students never go back to what they thought they were before. Now, maybe after a year, you'll be one of the 6 percenters. Maybe you'll stop being Bethany and find yourself a good wife and raise kids. But the odds are against you, dear." I sat up. I covered my face. I had never worn girls' clothes. I had never wanted to. Frankly, I was a lousy housekeeper. And a Mistress? Me? Really? "I think she needs panties," said Janie. "She needs to remove her body hair first," said Trina. "She needs boobs," said Harmony. "And dresses," said Matt. "She needs her hair done," Glenn said. "And pantyhose," said Barry. "And lipstick," said Mrs. Rutledge. "And my cock," said Lucas. "At least twice." I heard Mistress giggle. I heard Mrs. Rutledge laugh out loud. I looked down at my jeans. There, pushing against my crotch, was the darnedest erection you've ever seen. Sept. 19 We were given two weeks to get moved in. Matt and Glenn got married in a small mountainside ceremony, ostensibly to fool everyone else, while their parents sat uncomfortably in the church. Yes, Matt kissed his bride...or groom. Deeply. If this was about appearances, someone was going to win an Academy Award. Jenny and Harmony broke their relationship to their parents, and both sets were ready to rush out and join support groups on the spot. Harmony's mom gave her pamphlets on adoption. They, too, seemed as if they were going to give homosexuality a try. Trina and Barry's parents were confused that a son had become a daughter and the daughter a son. But Barry's dad - Sherry's - said he always suspected something was not "normal." He was now a she, and she had a husband, who was really a woman. Janie moved in the first night with Lucas; turns out, she had always wanted a black man. She was delighted to find out that some of the urban legends seemed to be true. Size, for instance. They weren't faking anything, either. And me? Mistress Sinbad took me shopping that first day and bought me hose and panties and four maid's dresses. She didn't plan to fake it for everyone. She told each of the clerks why we were buying them, and that they were all for me. I shifted uncomfortably as she talked. I can still hear the laughter. I can still remember borrowing breast forms so I could try on bras. I'm not going to lie. It was horrible. Oh, the clothes felt nice enough. Women's clothes seem to fit women better than men's clothes fit men. They're softer, smoother, prettier. But this wasn't just trying the stuff on like it was Halloween. This was branding myself as a want- to-be woman. This was changing teams. This was nuts. The other couples may have needed two weeks. I was on my way to being a sissy by the next afternoon. My male clothes were carted away. My shoes. My life. "I wonder," Mistress wondered out loud, "how long does it take to cut off a penis?" I wanted to cry. Sept. 20 Mistress had gone shopping with Jennt and Harmony. I was alone in the apartment. I was dressed in a red dress. I had on a black wig and makeup. I felt like a linebacker in a tutu. My heels hurt, do I kicked them off. I snuck upstairs and turned on the computer. I called up Google, typed in "sissy fiction." Oh my. The stories came rolling in in an instant. I took a breath and clicked on the first one. A guy was cheating and his wife got revenge. In the next one, a guy loses a bet. In the next, a wife cuckolds her husband. Some of the stories were erotic, and some were well told. Sometimes, the premise was a bit thin. All of them, however, had a hunger to them. Most were written by the sissy, it seemed, who obviously wish such circumstances were thrust onto him. Hey, they could take my place. There were pictures of maid's dresses in various colors. Was that going to be my wardrobe? And for how long? Sept. 26 The sunlight snuck into my bedroom early the next morning. I got up in a haze, not quite sure where I was, who I was with, why I was wearing a nightgown. I had been proclaimed a sissy. The other nine students all knew it, and each of the other eight had declared themselves to be a sub-Master or Mistress. Everyone else would soon know, too. I had to live like this for a year. I had signed papers that if I quit, my grades would be frozen. What was I thinking? That I was going to swoop in and claim the girl? Fuck. I was going to be the girl. I sat up on the bed. I put my head in my hands. I felt as if something heavy had been dropped on me. Just like that, the door flew open, and it was Mistress, who was talking and walking all at once. She had assumed control. We were going to live at my place, but it was suddenly her place, and there was God- all I could do about it. "Oh, Bethany," she said. "We have a million things to do. A million! We have to get your hair off, and we have to get you underwear, and we have to get you to the hair salon. I've got to shop for your wardrobe! We have to pierce your ears and get you on your chores. Where has the day gone? It's the last time I let you oversleep, I'll tell you that, little girl." She bounced around the room, happy, busy. She was a domme! She made all the decisions. It must be good to be her. I stood, and she shoved two plastic bottles into my hands. "This is depilatory," she said. "Hair remover. It will remove most of your body hair. Maybe all of it, as light as yours is. Then you go over the other patches with a razor. Hmm. Are you sure you've never dressed before? You sure have a sissy's body hair. You sure are little." She looked at me. Smiled. "Say it, Bethany. Sissy. Hear the hiss? You'll learn to love that word. Sissy. It starts like ... sweet. Like ... sashay. Like ... suck." She shoved me toward the bathroom. "Now, go on, Bethany. It's time we got started. The others? They can ease into it. They can fake it for a while. But you have to be a sissy right off the bat. You're going to be a sissy for a very long time, so you might as well get started.;" "A year," I said. She laughed loudly. "A year? Do you think? After you spend a year mincing around? After you spend a year in a dress? After you spend a year with tits? Sweetheart, you should forget about going back. This journey is a one-way ticket. A sissy has never gone back in the history of the 10. Every now and then, a gay man might. Or an interracial couple might eventually fall in love with members of their own race. I've heard of one girl who gave up the golden showers. But not a sissy. You'll see." I felt the tears well up again. This wasn't supposed to be a life sentence. "Now, now, Bethany. Don't start your weeping again. You should embrace this. I swear, I can tell how they saw the sissy in you. Now go get rid of that hair and let's get you into panties." I walked slowly to the bathroom, as if I would be rescued if I took my time. I knew better. There was no one to rescue me. I stripped. I rubbed the cream over my legs. My chest. My armpits. Everywhere beneath my eyebrows. It foamed up, then heated up as it began to work. The hair fell out, almost all of it, and washed down the drain. I felt like something inside of me was going down the drain with it. I spread it carefully on the fringes of my pubic hair. I spread it over my arms. I looked at my body in the mirror. I felt like I was 11 years old again, a small boy in gym class trying not to look at the others. I started into the mirror, trying to find the girl there. I imagined lipstick on my lips, eyeliner on my eyes. I exhaled. Nude, I walked out of the bathroom. Mistress looked at my penis and giggled. "It's so little," she said. "You won't make a bulge at all, Bethany. Here. Put these on." She handed me a pair of black-lace panties. I stepped into them and slid them up my smooth legs. My nerve endings felt like Pop-Rocks, the old candy. I immediately grew hard. Mistress held out a bra by the straps. I put my arms in them, and she walked behind me and fastened it. She reached around me and slid breast forms in the cups. Their heft surprised me. I glanced at the mirror. I stood in panties and a bra, no makeup, no hose. But there was something girly there. My hair was medium length, like a guy who needs a haircut. Mistress sprayed it, then spiked it a bit. She pinched my earlobes, imagining earrings.. "I can't wait till your maid's uniforms come in," she said. "But I did pick one up for you at the costume store. Are you ready for it?" I looked at the floor. She giggled and went to the closet. When she came out, she was holding a black maid's dress and a large clump of petticoat in her hands. "Showtime!" she said, holding them out toward me. I stepped into the petticoat, then the dress, and pulled it up. It was light, smooth, satiny.Still, I felt awkward, as if I was pulling someone else's skin onto my being. Mistress walked behind me and zipped it up. The body of the dress hugged me closely. "Now just a little makeup," she said. Then she walked behind me and looked at me in the mirror. "Beautiful, Bethany," she said. She kissed me on the neck and ran her fingers across my breasts. "Can you imagine when these are real, Bethany?" she said. "Soon, darling. Now, lets get your\ hose and heels, and you can make me some lunch. I'm famished, my dear, and you are a sissy. Make lunch, and we'll get some makeup on you afterward." I wobbled out on the heels. Funny, they were only two-inch heels. But I still wobbled. My petticoats danced against my legs. My breasts felt enormous. I felt like I was in a school play, only I was in the wrong costume. No, it didn't feel terrible. It was soft and much more form-fitting than I was used to. But I didn't feel pretty. I felt awkward. I got out the bread. I got out the lunch meat. There was some tuna in the fridge. I got that out. I poured her a Diet Coke, made her a sandwich. There were chips in the cabinet. It was a quick, impromptu lunch. Still, I put it on a tray and I carried it to her as if I were playing a role. She nodded. I placed it on the bed. She picked up her soda. She sat back on the pillows. She spread her legs as if she was at a gynecologist's office.. "Now, sissy. Let's see how gifted that tongue is." I looked at her pubes, then at her face. Oh, I had performed oral sex on a woman before. Hell, doesn't everyone? But not while I was wearing a dress. I knelt on the bed. I kissed her pubic hair lightly. I ran my tongue up her slit. And then her hands were on my head, and they were pushing me into her, and her pussy claimed me. She grinded. She moaned. She damn near drowned me. It had begun. Oct. 2 Shopping day. Mistress Sinbad and I walked through the shops, and she talked as we walked about this cut and that fabric and this shape. I was lost. Shop girls would come up to me and strike up a saleswoman's pitch. At first, they all seemed to think I was a masculine-looking woman. My bra, I assume. Then they would realize I was a guy, and their eyes would widen. A couple of them laughed out loud. Most crossdressers who bought women's clothing played the game. The garment was for their girlfriend, or for their wife. Both sides knew better, but neither one said it. With me? There was no game. Mistress would tell them straight out that I was becoming her sissy, that I needed panties and bras. A couple of saleswomen offered their fitting rooms. After all, dollars don't come in pink, do they? They wanted my cash, the same as they would with a genetic girl. Mistress asked which panties fit better if we decided to get a cock cage, which embarrassed me no end. Mistress asked about silicone breast forms, and how much they felt lifelike. She asked about corsets. The whole time, I stood there. The saleswomen would talk to Mistress as if I were not there at all. They talked about outfits - evidently, I wasn't going to be in a maid's dress all the time. They talked about lipsticks. They talked about how high my heel should be with different outfits. My ears were pierced that day. My eyebrows were tweezed. Mistress bought skirts and blouses and dresses and hose and heels and jewelry and a home-dye hair kit. And if I could have made a bulge, I would have. Oct. 4 We picked up my maid's dresses on Monday. Mistress was in an exceedingly good mood, and she let me pick out several colors. Lavender. Pink. Black. Gray. White.She had me put on the gray dress as soon as we returned home, and she pointed me toward the huge stack of dishes in the sink. I pulled a purple apron on over my head and began to run the water. I didn't like washing dishes, to tell you the truth. Cooking, I could take. Ironing even. But dishes were messy, sticky. Mistress patted me on the fanny. "Good girl," she said. A knock at the door came about three o'clock. "The gang," Mistress announced. "Get that, would you, Bethany." I opened the door, and it was Janie and Lucas. He laughed out loud. Then came Harmony and Jenny. They squealed in delight. Then Matt and Glenn, who did the same. Then Trina/Dino and Barry/Sherry, who studied me as if I were a human sculpture. "Is she in a cage?" Dino said. "A sissy has to be in a cage. You have to control her orgasms." "Is her makeup tattooed on?" asked Harmony. "Has she sucked a cock yet?" Lucas said. Janie shot him a look. He shrugged. "Just asking." "Does she cook?" "Are you going to castrate her?" "Implants or chemicals?" "Has she started her pills yet?" "Have you taken her ass yet?" "Does she eat pussy? Does she do it well?" "Will you ever let her go back?" The questions were all like that, personal and plentiful. I didn't ask Matt if he had sucked Glenn's cock. Or Trina if she was wearing one. But as I was learning, a sissy has no secrets. I stood there in my dress and heels, and the classmates lifted my hem, and poked at my boobs. I was pretty sure Lucas checked out my ass. "You know," Glenn said. "I wouldn't know she was trans. She looks like a girl to me." "Not that you look at girls," Matt said, laughing. "Not when you're around, sweetheart," Glenn said. Matt smiled. He lightly kissed Glenn on the lips, then again. "No faking for you two, huh?" Sherry said. "No," Matt said. "I was hoping it was going to be Glenn from the first time we were in that room. I've fought gay urges my whole life." "You didn't fight them last night," Glenn said, chuckling. "Fag," Glenn said. "Ass bandit," Matt said. They laughed. The banter was funny, friendly.I served everyone drinks and looked around the room. Janie was on Lucas' lap, and his fingertips were trailing her back. Sherry and Dino were holding hands. Matt and Glenn were kissing each other's hands. Harmony was stroking Jenny's hair. There didn't seem to be a couple in the room who were faking it. Later, I learned that most couples don't. The school says you can, of course, but it really doesn't expect young, attractive people to keep their hands off each other. Mistress walked up to me. She spun me and kissed me softly. She reached down and fondled the front of my panties. "Does Little Bo Peep want to look for sheep?" she asked. I giggled and nodded. "Later," she whispered. "We'll see if you can still try to be a man." And so it was that, after everyone left and I had picked up all the glassware in the living room, I heard Mistress ring her bell. I flounced into her bedroom. "Yes, ma'am?" I said, breathlessly. "Come here, sissy," she said. "I'm going to let you penetrate me. Sissies don't get to do this much, so I would suggest you enjoy it." "Yes, ma'am," I said, grinning. She pulled me onto the bed and climbed over me, her teeth clamping down on my bottom lip until I tasted blood.I felt her pelvis grind into mine. Her fingers cupped my breast forms. "You are so beautiful," she said. "Half-man, half-woman and all mine." Her right hand cupped my ass. Her finger toyed with my anal opening, but didn't penetrate. She spread her legs and guided my member up into her. God, it was wonderful. As long as I could have sex like this, I didn't care if I wore a dress every day and appropriate makeup every night. I moved in rhythm, feeling her heat rise, feeling her dampness. I found my rhythm. I was a God. I was a man! And then it was over, far too fast. I came long and deep, feeling it spurt out of me and into her vagina. How much was it? A cup? A pint? I just know it felt wonderful. I felt her collapse onto me. "Now, sissy," she said. "Lick me." My eyes widened. This was what she wanted? Me to lick my own sperm out of her? To taste my spunk? That was ... gross. Wasn't it? She climbed on top of me and ground her groin into my face. She started humping my face as I lapped at the fluids seeping out of her. There was so much of it. Damn. I hated being a victim of my own heavy ejaculation. Finally, she was clean. But then Mistress just scooted forward slightly, until it was her ass that covered my face. I knew what she wanted. So I began to lick, and whatever the taste was, sucking my own sperm was like ice cream by comparison. I'll be honest. I didn't like this. Then again, who asked? I was a sissy. I didn't get a vote. This was Mistress's play. Tomorrow night would be, too. And the night after. And the night after that. I was here for her pleasure. I shuddered. Did I have any tomorrows that did not belong to her? Oct. 5 I woke early and stole a minute. It was warm, and Mistresses' was draped over me. I felt safe, secure. I slid out of bed. I looked at Mistress. Already, I could feel her taking control. I gathered a clean dress and fresh undies. I grabbed my shoes and snuck out of the room. I wandered to the kitchen and turned on the burnered. I set the coffee maker. Only then did I slide into the guest bathroom to get dressed. I stepped into my dark blue dress and shrugged in on. I still felt out- of-place wearing it. I cracked the eggs. Scrambled with bacon and chives. I made toast and cut a melon wedge. When I carried it to Mistress's bedroom, she was already awake, sitting up in the bed, smiling at my efforts. "Please," she said. "Sit." I watched her pick at her food. Finally, she looked at me. "Bethany, we need to talk," she said. "About sex." "Ma'am?" "Bethany, I like sex. But I'm not here to force you. I like to be aggressive. I assume it's why I was chosen to be a domme. I like being on top. If you you agree, I will handcuff you. I will have you sleep in the closet. I will peg you anally. You will suck my dildo. I may spank you sometimes. I may try urination. I will film you and show it to others. And the rest of the 10 will have their fun." "It's part of the work, isn't it?" "Maybe. But it won't be easy. I'm a good person, but I'm strict. Ever hear of a cocky cage? You'll have one. Tit juice? You will start today. Exposure. One of my favorite ideas." "I swallowed." I looked at her. Mistress didn't have to have this conversation with me. She grew in my eyes that she wanted to. "Mistress, I will try to be a good sissy. I have no options. Just be gentle..." She smiled. "I'll be as gentle as ant dungeon master," she said. She winked. I think I was falling in love. Oct. 8 An early Saturday night in October, we found ourselves at Jenny and Harmony's home. My maid's dress was left at home. At Mistress' instructions, I wore an off-white dress with black heels. Somehow, I felt girlish without a uniform, softer, prettier. And that led to a whole new level of embarrassment. As a maid, I was a ... thing. A servant. But now I was a transvestite. A girl. We pulled up to a small house in a cul de sac. We walked to the door, and Harmony answered the door. She smiled widely, then invited us in. On the wall, there was a portrait of two women holding hands. There was a small rainbow flag on the mantle. There was a portrait of Jenny with her arms around Harmony. It was cozy, warm. Jenny sat on the couch. She wore a t-shirt and jeans. Harmony had on a black dress. Were they adopting roles as a butch and a femme? I didn't know. I sat as the three women in the room made small talk, about a Pride gathering, about a new album by Melissa Etheridge, about the governor's race. I felt as if I should be serving, but I was in someone else's home and had not been instructed to serve. When I looked up, I saw Jenny's hand on Harmony's back. Harmony leaned back against it, then looked at her girlfriend and smiled. She leaned in and kissed her softly. I glanced away, as people do at the signs of intimacy. When I looked back, Jenny was kissing her deeply. It was get- a-room time, I thought to myself. But it was clear that this was for my benefit. They were putting on a show. Harmony cupped Jenny's breast. Jenny moaned. Harmony sank to her knees, pulled down Jenny's pants and began kissing her upper thighs. I could see that Jenny was damp. Exhibitionism is the same with any sexual preference. Some people like to be seen. Jenny kept stealing glances at Mistress, to make sure she was watching. And she was. Mistress Sinbad was smiling, and gently stroking my arm. Harmony tugged down on Jenny's panties. She blew softly on her pubic hair, then pushed her face into her mound. Jenny's hands went to her head. So there I was, in a dress, watching two women make love. Most guys would have gotten off on the sight. I was a little embarrassed, to tell you the truth. I felt like an imposter. After all, I had a dick, even a little one, and I was in a room with all women, and one of them was going down on another. Jenny looked at me. "Come here, Bethany," she said. I went to her, trance like. I was prepared to kneel by Harmony if I was told. "Go to my bedroom," she said. "Get my vibrator out of the nightstand. Bring it here." And so I went, panting heavily. I found the bedroom, and I found the nightstand, and there was a large flesh-colored dildo in the room. It had small bumps on the side and it was attached to a pink panty. For a toy, it had a serious look to it. I tried not to think about where it might be heading. I took it to Jenny. Harmony took it instead, and she stepped into it. Jenny leaned down and kissed it gently. "Bend over the chair, Bethany," Jenny said. "Your mistress promised me she would save your ass for Harmony." My breath was short. My eyes were wide. But there was really no choice. I leaned over the chair. WHAP! I felt the sting through my soul. What? WHAP! Jenny slapped my bottom again. WHAP! Tears came to my eyes. I had expected to be mounted, not beaten. I glanced back, and there was a sadistic smirk on Jenny's face. "Don't you hate your maleness," she said. "I know I do." WHAP! "Yes, ma'am," I pleaded. I looked to Mistress, who had a broad grin on her face. She was removing her belt. WHAP! I felt the belt then. It was a different level of pain, sharper, less personal. I cried like a child. I begged for mercy. WHAP! Finally, the sting left the blows, as if they two women had lost interest. I felt something cool on my ass. Salve? And then I felt something push against my anus. The dildo. Harmony was mounting me. The dildo pushed inside me, just a bit. Then a bit more. Then it was in me, and it felt as if someone had parked their motorcycle there. The pain was intense, as if it was ripping me in two. Please stop, I whimpered. I was ignored. Then it stopped, and it was replaced by a thousand points of light. Harmony rocked against me, and it was heaven. Do all asses feel like this? Or did I somehow have a g-spot back there? Harmony changed her stroke, slowing, enjoying. I looked up, as Jenny's vagina closed down on my face. Mistress reached down and tweaked my small nipples. Was this being a sissy? Being the star actress in a small orgy? If so, I was ready for my close-up. Oct. 16 The next Saturday, the very next weekend, I was back into a maid's dress. This one was black, and I wore the small bonnet and heels that were bigger than an average man's ... well, you know. We bounced along a country road, and I stared out the window. Mistress would tell me where we were going when she chose. "Bethany, are you ready to see company?" she finally said. "I imagine, madam. Who is it this time?" "Lucas. And Janie. We're having dinner at their place." I thought about last weekend's dinner, the actual dinner, and my bottom tingled in memory. Would it be the same this time? "But, man. I wore a regular dress last time. Why am I in a maids dress?" "Because I wanted you in one," she said, shooting me a look. "If you must know, you wore a dress because we were with lesbians, and they preferred to think of you as a woman. Tonight, we are with a black man, and I want the message to be that you are subservient to him. Is that a problem?" "No, Mistress," I said. "I'm just a silly sissy whose mind wanders." Mistress Sinbad looked at me and smiled. She turned left by the church. "Sissy, when you were trying to be a man, did you have prejudices?" "Oh, no, ma'am. Not about skin color. I mean, I don't like rude people. Or mean people. Or bigots. But I grew up with a lot of black people in my neighborhood." "So it doesn't bother you that a Barbie Doll like Janie sucks Lucas' cock?" "Of course not, ma'am. That's their business." "Will it bother you if I ask you to suck his cock?" I paused. I didn't want any color of penis in my mouth. But I answered more diplomatically. "Of course not, ma'am. It's what a sissy does." Mistress smiled. "You are coming along very nice, girly," she said. "You seem to know your place. You finally admit that you're a sissy." "I have no choice, Mistress," I said quietly. She snorted. "No, you really don't, do you?" she said. "You would eat turds out a punchbowl if I commanded it, wouldn't you?" "Why would there be turds in a punchbowl?" I asked. "Because the dog went swimming," she said, cackling loudly. Finally, Mistress pulled into a space in front of a white townhouse. I followed her up the driveway, keeping a respectful distance. I adjusted my breasts in my dress. Janie answered the door, all cute and perky like a cheerleader. She had a great smile, a warm laugh. "Come in, come in," she said. I followed Mistress in. Janie swatted my butt lightly, and I jumped. "Jenny says hi," Janie said. "I understand she striped your fanny last week." I hung my head. "Yes, ma'am." "Well, we don't do that here, sissy," she said. "Here, we just watch each other impale each other on big black cock." She laughed as I flinched. Lucas strode into the living room. He leaned down and kissed Janie, his large lips engulfing her smaller ones. The contrast of their skin, his caramel colored hue and her whiteness, were beautiful in contrast to each other. Janie rubbed her body against his. "Would you like a glass of wine," Lucas said, a touch of a aristocracy in his voice. "I have a lovely merlot." "That would be nice," Mistress said. "But just water for the sissy. She'll either be driving or sucking, I forget which." Everyone laughed at Mistress' joke but me. "Bethany," Janie said. "Do you like cock? I mean, as a sissy. Do you like it?" I blushed. "I have never been with a man," I said. "Oh, baby, you are in for a treat," she said. "Lucas has such a wonderful cock. Large and chocolate and yummy. It can stay hard for hours." Lucas smiled. "After dinner, Janie sweetheart. You know I like the sissy. But it's you I love." "Yeah? That's because Bethany's pussy is in back." Mistress giggled. She sipped her wine, and she bided her time. Her sissy was going to suck cock. She was sure of it. "You know, sissy," Janie said. "I didn't like you at first. I thought you were after my man. But then I figured, hell, you're just a sissy. How could a sissy not want a man like Lucas? How could you not want a shot at that dick? Hell, I bet you'd lick me just to taste where it went." I looked at the floor. She was so pretty, so innocent looking. But BBC can change a girl. Hell, it can change a sissy. After dinner was served, a nice baked chicken and a salad that I thought I could have made a bit better, we repaired to the living room. Lucas patted the couch beside him. I sat, nervously. Lucas was a handsome man, with straight white teeth and strong arms. He was tall, maybe 6-3. I sat next to him, my tiny skirt riding up on my thighs. Janie sat in a lounger across from us. Mistress sat in a straight chair. We all felt the time creeping forward. Janie stared at me. Nodded. I felt Lucas' hand on my back, his fingertips lightly tracing the back of my bra strap. He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me to him. His lips were larger than mine, and his tongue overwhelmed my mouth. God, this man could kiss. I had never kissed a man, never really thought about it. But I was kissing one now, as embarrassing as it was. He covered my hand with his, then lifted it and placed it on his bulge. It was like a small arm in his pants. I know it's a stereotype to suggest that black men are well endowed, but Lucas really was. I found myself unzipping him and reaching inside. I freed his penis, which stood out, large and hard. I had no idea how many inches a dick was supposed to be, but this was a superior organ to what I had. It was black, of course, and thick, slightly darker than the rest of him. My God, it was huge. He had veins bigger than my dick. I my had looked like a cop's as he held a billy club. It was going to split me in two. I knelt. I looked at Mistress, who nodded. I looked at his girlfriend Janie, who smiled. I kissed the tip lightly, and it twitched. God. I had kissed another man's dick. Then I put the head of it into my lips. Just a bit, just to try the fit, the taste, the feel. I had done it! I was sucking cock! I knew it was going to come to this, from the first instance that Mistress had told me I was a sissy. How else do you define a sissy except that she sucks cock? My head went slightly back and forth, and then I took him a bit deeper, and a bit deeper still. His balls hung there, magnificent eggs underneath his shaft. I touched them lightly, stroking his scrotum. If it was possible, he swelled even larger in my mouth. I looked down, and saw this dark cock glistening in the light, shiny with my saliva. I sucked it harder. I sucked hungrily, not thinking of the time, not thinking of the company. I was a sissy. They were right. I was made for cocksucking. There was a reason my throat was penis sized. I reached around, gripped his ass cheeks, and pulled him deeper into me. I was a vacuum cleaner. Around me, I could hear Janie and Mistress talking, like they were sports announcers doing a play by play. I licked the shaft. I tongued the slit. I stroked him with my hand. Lucas was moaning now, lost in the feeling. What man doesn't like a blow job? And who gave them better than I did? When he came, it was as if someone had turned on a firehose. His sperm overflowed my mouth and spilled onto his pubic hair. I came off the knob long enough to dab at it with my tongue. Were all black men like this? Then I was in line with Janie to get me some more of it. Look, the texture was what I would imagine any guy had. And the sperm. But the girth was like you had super-sized at a fast-food restaurant. My lips were sore from being stretched, but it was a good sore. I rubbed my face against his genitals. I inhaled his sweet scent. I glanced up, and Janie and Mistress lightly applauded. Then Mistress kissed Janie, and suddenly I was the one watching. I rubbed Lucas' ass. He fondled my breasts, and once again, I wished they were real. It was done. I was a cocksucker. I had surrendered. I kissed his dick again. I was aware of another head near mine. Janie's. We licked in concert, like pianists playing Heart and Soul in a duet. We kissed. Then she twisted around, and her pussy was within inches of my face. I licked him, then her, in a beautiful blend of color. She placed his cock against my add. She guided it to my entrance. "Take it, faggot," she said, rather unkindly. "Take all of it, cocksucker." I would have protested. But she kind of had a point. Oct. 17 "Did you like it, faggot?" Mistress smiled at me. It was in the wee hours, and we were driving back home. I was sore, and I was sticky, and I was satisfied. "Well, did you? Did you like that tree limb in your mouth? Did you like getting butt-fucked? Did you like being black-owned?" How do I answer that? If I told her yes, I was gay. If I told her no, I was a liar. I liked it, but I was mortified that I liked it. I loved it when he topped me so much that it frightened me. This was all too fast. I felt cheap...easy. I felt like a slut. "Ma'am, it was ... interesting." "Liar," she said, laughing. "I didn't think you would ever take that damn thing out of your mouth. Janie needed the jaws of life to pry you off his dick. Are you sure you never sucked cock before? Because you damn sure took to it. You must have been waiting your whole life for the right dick. You spent, what, eight seconds licking Janie's twat, and then you were back giving mouth-to-dick resuscitation. " I blushed at the memory. Was it true? Was I really a gay man all along waiting for "the right dick?" I began to sob. I didn't want to be gay. I didn't want to be a sissy. And I feared I might be both. It was later that day, my day to spoil Mistress. A nice brunch with Eggs Benedict. Bagels. Bacon. Cheese potatoes. The doorbell rang. I figure it might be someone else from the 10. I minced over, threw open the door and started to invite into the room... ...my parents. I stood gawking as my father pushed past me. My mother reached out and touched my cheek, as if to say she understood. Then she lowered her head and went into the living room. They huddled close together on the coach, leaving room for two couples on each side of them, as if stuffing themselves into a small space would keep offense at bay. "Father," I said after a moment, "Mother, how are you?" I sat on the couch and kept my knees together, but my panties still might have shown "Hello," Mistress said, coming into the room. "I am Sinbad, your daughter's owner. She cleans for me, cooks for me. Does me sexual favors when I demand it. You should be proud parents. Your daughter is the best little sissy in the whole world. My word, she can leave men in a melted heap." My mother looked at me, her mouth open. My father scowled. The thing is, it wasn't true. I had been with one man. But my parents were so quick to believe, just because I was in a dress and I had these ... mounds on my chest. There was a frosting in my hair and my lipstick was shimmering. Education? Well, I was learning. I was learned tons. "Bethany? Can you get your parents something to drink?" I curtsied before I could catch myself. "Water," my mother said. "Beer," my father said. "Wine," Mistress said. I left and brought the drinks back. I sat the glassware out on coasters. "Are you a girl now?" my mother asked. "Irene. Brad is a sissy now. It's like a girl but a servant. A bisexual." "Yes, father," I said. "Irene, your son is a fag. He's Cinderella as a guy. There is no hope for him, I'm afraid. Being a sissy is one of the deepest commitments there is. Is that right...Brad?" I felt something catch in my throat. "Yes, father," I whispered. "I am a sissy." * * * Oct. 23 Another weekend night out. For once, I was in a good mood. Tonight, we were seeing Dino and Sherry, the flip-floppers. Dino was living as man now. Sherry was living as a woman. I felt a kinship with Sherry. We were both in dresses. Both in lingerie. Both in makeup. Okay, I knew that all mtf transexuals weren't sissies. But it gave us a bit of common ground to discuss things. By now, they had started to see the other couples, too. If they were anything like the rest of us, they would have experimented a bit. We came to a simple cottage at the edge of town, a Prius out in front. Mistress had been mostly quiet on the trip over. When I asked her how well Dino was passing, or how pretty Sherry was, she just grunted. Something seemed to be on her mind. I looked at Mistress. I didn't appreciate her enough. She had all the pressure of leading this relationship, all the burden of making all of the decisions. I just had to get the damn frying pan clean, you know. I didn't have to balance a budget; I had to iron a wrinkle out of a dress. We walked up the sidewalk. Sherry opened the door. She seemed cool, aloof. I thought she was going to come across as my sister. She didn't. Dino was a bit friendlier, but not a lot. What was going on here? I had water, my usual. Mistress had a nice white. Dino drank whiskey. Sherry had nothing at all. She just sat with her arms folded. "So, sissy, you here to make fun of us?" Sherry said. "Make fun? Of you? Of course not." Sherry rolled her eyes. "I don't like sissies as a concept," Sherry said. "It's hard enough for trans women without some mincing princess turning the volume up. You make everyone think that all we wear is pink while we're dusting." Mistress leaned back. "Sherry, Sherry. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're wrong. A sissy is indeed an extreme transvestite. But a sissy, a proper one, isn't trying to be a woman. She's trying to be a sissy. This wasn't Bethany's choice, not consciously. She really is a sweet little creature. Give her a chance." Dino nodded. Sherry's face softened. "Well, perhaps I have been harsh," she said. "Perhaps we should play around and see how things go? Perhaps my boyfriend here can find something for Bethany to do besides clean." Mistress smiled. I inhaled. Was I going to have a threesome with two gender outlaws? Who was going to take what and put it where? "Bethany," Dino said quietly. "Would you please disrobe?" I blushed. Here? In the living room? I stood and Mistress unzipped my dress. I stepped out of it. I tugged my panties down, and my tiny penis fell out. I unhooked my bra, and only the glue attached kept my breast forms in business. I kicked off my heels and peeled off my hose. I was naked. I stood there, waiting to be inspected. Sherry smiled at me. She touched my shoulder. Dino handed me a cloth diaper. "Please," he said. "Could you put this on?" Huh? I was a sissy! I was not a baby sissy! I wasn't into age play! I didn't want to wear to wear diapers! I tried to put the diaper on. Sherry leaned over and helped. She put a safety pin with a large yellow duck on it. She handed me a shirt, a light pink one with Sesame Street characters on it. Dino fasted a bonnet over my medium-length hair. He put a pacifier into my mouth. "Now," Sherry said. "Does baby want her dolly? Does baby Beth need sleepy-time?" I had thought that wearing a dress was embarrassing. This was worse. This was being baby-talked to, maybe all night. This was being powered and pampered and prissed over. Dino took me by the hand and led me into the bed room, where they had a crib waiting. They lowered one of the sides, and I climbed in. I laid back and looked up at a mobile overhead. It had small pandas on it. Sherry placed the cloth doll in my arms. "Now, baby, talk some baby talk for me." "Excuse me?" "Baby talk!" So I gurgled and cooed, and she stroked my hair. She kissed me on top of my head. Sherry reached down, her hand brushing against the front of my diaper. My penis rose at her touch. She looked on lovingly. "Look, Daddy! Baby's penis is baby-sized! Isn't that perfect?" "Mine is fairly big," Dino said. "It should be, though. I paid enough for it." Sherry giggled. She reached inside of my diaper. She fondled. Her eyes went soft. This wasn't exactlly maternal, was it? There is a natural confusion about ageplay. A lot of people confuse it with pedophelia, but it is nothing like it. All the parties in ageplay are consenting adults. Some of us just aren't treated like it. Sherry unbuttoned her blouse. She had her own breast forms glued to her chest. She pulled my face to her chest so I could nurse. As I did, I could feel Dino play with my ass. "Did baby go poopy?" Sherry said. She unpinned the diaper and peeked inside. "No. No boom-boom yet. But baby will go boom-boom or pee-pee very soon. All babies do." Dino's finger was working hard now. His face was lost in ecstacy now. He was forgetting about my suppposed age now. He was sliding a vibrator into my rectum. "Would baby like a new pacifier," he said. "Daddy has a special binky for baby." She rubbed the rubber penis over my face. She touched it to my lips and held it there. "Over the stars, and over the moon it comes," he said. "Into the lips, and past the gums." Oh, daddy. Fuck me, daddy. Oct. 24 Mistress was smiling as she drove home. I was seething. "Well, you certainly were darling," she said. "I could just eat you up." I stared out the window, not trusting myself to say anything. "Please speak freely, Bethany. What are you thinking." "Well, Mistress. I didn't like it. I mean, the sex was fun, but it was like role-play for me. It didn't feel real. It's not what I am!" "And you are?" "I'm a sissy, dammit," I said. I was annoyed. "Listen to you!" Mistress said. "You struggle for weeks being a sissy. Now you're ready to fight someone who acts like you aren't. Baby, age- play is real enough, if that's your trip. But it's not yours. You need to be in dresses and makeup. You need to be controlled, exposed, humiliated. You need to swallow sperm, and if someone is watching, that's even better." "I shit in my diaper!" I protested. "Yes," she said, laughing. "Yes, you did. And a man was your mommy and a girl was your daddy. It was quite the happy family." I grinned. "I peed myself." "You did," she said. "I liked it when Dino powered my bottom," I said. "And when he pegged your bottom?" "Yeah, that too." I laughed. I guess it hadn't been that bad. Sherry hadn't wanted me playing with her dick. Dino didn't want me touching his tits. God, those were strange thoughts to think. But Dino could fuck a sissy's backside. And Sherry wanted me to lick her ass. Yeah, I could be their baby once a month. But I have to tell you. That baby food is some sick shit. Oct, 31 On Halloween, everyone gets into role play. Men who want to be football players wear helmets. Men who want to be brides wear wedding dresses. And me? All it took for me to dress up was a collar and a leash. The party was at our house, and Matt and Glenn were coming over. They had settled comfortably in a gay marriage. They'd marched in a Pride parade, and they'd attended protests, and they'd joined Rainbow Clubs all over the city. They were tireless as far as spending time with the LGBT causes. They were two of the most out gay men you have ever met. Yet, there was nothing outlandish about them, nothing stereotypical. Glenn loved a man. Matt loved a man. They didn't dress in flamboyant clothes, or let their wrists sag, or hang around florists shop. They felt it was their duty to be normal men who liked men. But now a sissy was going to be with them. What can be gayer than that? I served them margaritas and brie. Mistress sat in the corner, as observant as ever, never interfering as the visiting couple called the dance. We talked a bit, about who is gay in Hollywood, and why people cared so much, and which politicians opposed gay marriage. It got late into the night. Matt asked Glenn to dance. They held each other closely, obvious lovers who were into each other. Mistress took my hand as if she was going to dance with me, but at the last minute, she approached the two men. She nudged me toward Matt, and suddenly, I was in his arms. They were good arms, strong arms, safe arms. His breath was on my face. I looked up at him. And he kissed me. Soft, sweet, gentle. There was no suggestion that this was a precursor to sex, although we both knew it was. He kissed me again, his wonderful lips firm, his tongue probing. I felt Glenn's hands on the back of my sides. He had me in a sandwich, and he was helping to guide me as I swayed. I looked at Mistress. She smiled. I felt the zipper to my maid's dress come down. I looked at Glenn. He took my hand and guided it to his cock. It was firm and bold, not as big as Lucas', but nice. Matt unfasted my bra and toyed with my breasts. For a gay man, he didn't do half bad. There were four hands on me, and two sets of lips, and two cocks pushing at me. I fell to the floor, to blow them both, but both Matt and Glenn sank there with me. Matt was nibbling on my neck. Glenn was probing my ass. And I had a glorious cock in both hands. I leaned down and took Glenn into my mouth. No hesitation this time. No second thoughts. I was a sissy, a pussy boi. I felt Matt behind me, rubbing his cock against my ass. Suddenly, I had penises in both my ass and my mouth. It was wonderful, a blend of nerve endings that was as erotic as anything I could have imagined. Matt plunged deeper. I had been impressed with the size of his dick, but in my ass, it felt larger. Meanwhile, Glenn was fucking my face without pause. The penis slid to the brink of my gag reflex, then as if it had a mind of its own, retreated. It was so soft in texture, but it was so hard in its mass. "Oh, my God, Bethany. Take it all," I heard Mistress voice. I felt her hand touch me lightly on my back, as if to share the intimacy. I let Glenn go from my mouth. I pulled free of Matty. I twisted around, reversing them. Glenn might have been a natural bottom, but he was more than willing to stick his cock into me. And I devoured Matt and that odd taste of my ass on his dick. I reached out and held Mistress' hand, and that might have been the most intimate move of the night. We went on that way until morning, with every mouth on every dick which was in every ass as we sweated and moaned and came. It seemed as if it had taken so long, my sissification. In reality, it was only few weeks. I had been turned about as quickly as a sissy can be turned. I was Bethany. There was no going back. Not next year, not ever. You want to call me a fag? Fine. You want to refer to me as a girl? Fine. You want to call me sissy? Fine. It is not about the choices we make, it is about the lives we live. It is about finding the proper shaped peg in the proper shaped hole. We would all have our own partners. But we would all share the rest of us, too. When I wanted a black cock, I would have one. When I wanted a lesbian, I would have one. When I wanted to be a baby, I would be one. And when I wanted to be the smallest of three cocks in a menage, well, that would happen, too. Ah, God, this was good. If you want to know the truth, it was better than strained beets. Dec. 5, end of the semester I walked quickly down the hall, but not so quick that people couldn't see. Heads turned. I had dropped all of my classes quickly. No one in class, except for the other members of the 10, had seen me for weeks. But now I was wearing my white maid's dress, the one that looked like cotton balls. My heels clacked in rhythm on the tile floor. I walked behind Mistress, who was dressed in a short leather dress. She was so much more regal now than she had been when we were first coupled. She moved as if the other students around her were insects, barely noticing them as she walked. We went to Mrs. Rutledge's room. Her secretary was not at her desk. "Hello?" Mistress yelled. "Just a minute," Mrs. Rutledge said. She emerged waring a robe and a slightly flushed look to her face. I glanced down and saw black tights on her legs. I didn't think anything. "Pet? I can't find my pants." a voice rang out. Mistress smiled. I looked at the window. Mrs. Rutledge blushed. "Hell, it's just Sinbad and the sissy," she called out. "Just come on out. We're busted." The door opened, and Dr. Meyerson walked out, the red and blue of his familiar outfit sparkling in the afternoon. He was ... Wonder Woman? Mistress giggled. I grinned. "Go ahead, laugh," Dr. Meyerson groaned. "So we do a little roleplay. What's the harm?" His wig was askew. His breasts jutted out across the desk. Her golden lasso hung by her side. "Ah, sweet Aphrodite's agent," Mrs. Rutledge said. "My Amazing Amazon. You two have met Otto. Now, meet Emma." "Well, how about you? Why are you covering up?" Mrs. Rutledge grinned, then shirked her robe. And she was ... Batman. "Hello there," she said. "I'm the Dark Night. I'm the Caped Crusader." Okay, I could be spanked for this, because I'm still a sissy and no one else was. But to see these educated instructors of learning dressed up like comic characters was a hoot. I tittered. I cover my lips with my hand. "Problem, Missy?" Wonder Woman said. "Why, no ma'am," I said. "I was just thinking of about how safe I feel." Mrs. Rutledge adjusted her utility belt and sat down. "Sissy, I don't expect you to understand. But the mind is a creative playground. Otto... Emma and I dress up a lot. As a cowboy and cowgirl. As a lord and lady. As a pimp and a prostitute. Of course, these days, I tend to get most of the male roles, don't I, Emma." He looked at the floor. It seemed there was a streak of submissiveness in Dr. Meyerson, too. "I know," Mrs. Rutledge said. "We could dress as a Mistress and a maid. That way you two could ... play together. Would you like that, Otto? Would you like Bethany's pee-pee?" "Yes," he whispered. In my months as a sissy, the world had been all uphill. Everyone I met had assumed dominion over me. I knelt to all. Now, I had a chance to have a sister of my own rank, someone to help me iron, to help me cook. I smiled. I liked. Dr. Meyerson was an older man, but he still had good legs. I wondered what his penis would taste like. I looked at Mistress with trust, with lust. I licked my lips. I couldn't wait for next semester to begin. If it came down to oral exams, I was going to make great grades. (C) Cassandra Morgan