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Pleasures at Dressing Manor - part 6 of 7 The story so far: Young teacher Miles Johnson receives a letter from his pupil, Lyndon Blonding, 18, telling how his spiteful stepmother is keeping him prisoner and dressing him childishly. He takes the letter to his Headmistress, Alison Forceman, who secretly feeds Miles the feminizing drug Fem-Agra, so that he becomes addicted to girls' clothing and suffers embarrassing changes to his body, before accompanying him in his bid to rescue the boy. Invited into Dressing Manor by Vera Hidebotham, Lyndon's stepmother, he is introduced to a group of overwhelming women, who bring out his passion for little girl dresses. He realises that Vera has turned her stepson into a girl and that the same fate awaits him. The women lose no time in ensuring that both the sissified males become helplessly addicted to little-dress worship. The males: Lyndon Blonding, 18, a delicate student. Miles Johnson, 24, slim and modest, a newly qualified teacher. The women - all of them big busted, wide thighed and hateful of males: Vera Hidebotham, 38, brunette, stepmother of Lyndon and owner of Dressing Manor. Alison Forceman, 42, blond bobbed hair, Headmistress of St Ursula's School. Doctor Jessica Harding, 45, blond perm, very large, conducting un-sexing treatment. Councilor Barbara Welting, 60, silver hair, spectacles, a keen corporalist. Arabella Widely: 36, big and blond, dedicated man-hater Andrea Spitewell, 42, big busted and highly sexed. Gail Ampleweight, 43, pageboy blond, 140 pounds, similar to Arabella. Enid Feel, 30, the smallest, black hair to her shoulders, employed as nanny to Lyndon. Lucinda Heiffer, 38, very large, strong jaw, formerly Miles' landlady, now his nanny. *** Chapter 6: Adoring Their Little Dresses The air of the Dressing Lounge was sweet with the aroma of female body juices, mingling with the perfumes of all nine women as they listened to the sucking of forced bottle-drinking in the golden light of the chandeliers. Doctor Harding in her pink cire nylon nursing coat and Arabella Widely in her striped blouse and white pleated skirt were hanging over Alison Forceman, where Miles Johnson lay across her lap, held with his wrists fastened behind him by his new governess, Lucinda Heifer. His eyes streamed tears, silently, as he gulped and gulped, knowing the horrifying facts about what he was doing. The doctor had explained it, to everyone present, as the bottles were produced. "By drinking this milk laced with full doses of Fem-Agra, they will rapidly increase their female hormone count and bring themselves irreversibly towards feminization and an agonizingly unquenchable thirst for girls' dresses." "And what about their mistresses?" asked Barbara, who sat so close to Alison and her pathetic young teacher that her high heels were almost in his lap. She had her brown leather skirt turned up over her blouse, and both hands inside the legs of her panties. Her crimson lips quivered with deepening pleasure as she watched Miles Johnson condemn himself to a future of wretched weakness. "That's why I've prescribed Fem-Agra for you all, myself included," said Jessica. "For the sissies, their ejaculation will be rare and copious, with up to a minute of mini ejaculations; but for us as we drink it in our coffee, acute female pleasure, lasting perhaps four minutes before the descent." There were sounds of a bottle being drained, and just a few yards away, Vera grinned down at her hapless stepson in his blouse frill of white silk chiffon. "Oh my, what a sorrowful face!" she giggled. "He looks like his brain has been drained of all masculinity." Her words were met with a pig-like belch into the quiet lounge, drawing a huge laugh from everyone. "Well, you've drunk down all your girling milk, you clown," giggled his stepmother, looking down into his pretty face with its blond ringlets at each ear. "Is yours ready to belch a 'Thank you' yet, Alison?" "He's still trying to get more Fem-Agra, even though it's empty," laughed the Headmistress. "Or are you eager to get sucking on your pupil's little penis, you pantie-waist?" The bottle teat he had been sucking stood in front of his face as Jessica wiped his chin and neck with tissues; an exact replica of Lyndon Blonding's stiffened but small penis, and Miles Johnson had been developing an urgent taste for it as he sucked and sucked at his Fem- Agra drink. She moved across to the other group of women, where Vera sat with her weeping stepson in her lap and an empty bottle with a similar teat... this time in the contours of his teacher, Mr Johnson. "I think what he needs now," said Vera with a giggle, "is the chance to show us how much he wants to become more and more like a little girl, isn't it, my sissified pet?" She shook her arm under him and his crying vibrated with wails of misery, bringing peals of laughter from the women's faces that surrounded him. "Enid," she cried, "bring the idiot into the next room? That's where we'll find a nice choice of dresses for the clown to show us the results of his baby girl drinkies." While the boy's governess lifted him to his feet with a good few slaps across the legs, Doctor Harding held out a flat box an inch deep and twelve inches square to Vera, the sort of box that might hold a presentation pair of exquisite satin and lace panties. "A final little refinement in his preparation," she said, her lips curling into a smile of satisfaction. "Fondling the pervert's penis in silk gloves would fill his sexual parts with desire, but we want these two to lose all trace of masculine feelings... to be replaced with groin-aching girlishness. Which is why I'm going to add this." On top of the box she placed a pair of pink silk elbow length opera gloves. "The instructions are very simple," she said. "We'll be applying a similar treatment to our little sissy friend here." Vera held her box and gloves to her bosom as they exchanged kisses, and followed Enid as she drove the squealing Lyndon ahead of her towards the door. "Is it all right if I come with you?" said Barbara, shaking her leather skirt into shape as she caught her up. "I simply must watch you 'putting him to the dress', and maybe giving him some good pastings with the cane." "Wait for us, cried Gail and Andrea, and a few moments later, the door between the Dressing Lounge and the Wardrobe Chamber closed behind them, so that Lyndon Blonding found himself the centre of attention for five women who busied themselves around him. "Now, my beloved stepson," announced Vera, "this is where you are going to sit, in front of this mirror... with everyone else around you." The boy was still chained between his knees and his ankles, and his hands fastened up behind his head, with his wrist chain passing through the ribbon that ran under his legs from the back of his blouse to the front. His blouse was in white corrugated chiffon, with back buttons, a high neck cuff and a pretty frill around his face. He looked more of a girl than a boy with his blond hair almost to his shoulders, as well as the shapeliness of his legs. His feet were feminine too, in white ruffled anklets and black shiny Mary Janes, while his whole front was covered in his brilliant white bib edged with pink silk frills, proclaiming: MAKE ME A SISSY GIRLIE. Vera stood in front of him as he was held by his nanny and looked at his little penis pointing through the slot at the bottom of it. "Get him out of that, Enid, so that his girlish flesh is at my mercy," she snapped, "then fasten him into his chair. I don't want the fool to have an inch of movement." The chair was in chunky rectangular cushions covered in green leather, comprising a flat upright bar for his back, widening into a thin, leather-covered neck rest. There was a gap between the low curve of the bar and the cushions for his legs, and Gail and Andrea were only too willing to help Enid as Barbara supervised. "Those straps buckle over his ankles," she pointed out, "tightly... and those grip over his legs, below his knees, with the third set for his thighs." Enid slid the back rest forward until the neck brace caught his blouse into his neck, trapping his wrist chain and dragging his hands to the back of his hair so that his bare elbows pointed up and out. There was a soft leather fitting hanging on the back of the support; it was a chin grip, which she fitted to his neck brace, threaded it round the collar of his blouse, and cinched it tight with an added squeal from the chair's occupant, fastening it in two little buckles behind his head. Then she undid the miniature chains and removed the cuffs at his knees and ankles. "If my little girlie is going to show the nice ladies how much he loves his dresses," she said, "I think we want his legs a bit higher, don't we, sissy?" "Oh no... I don't want you to lift my legs," the 18-year-old managed to grit between his teeth. She stood in front of him and stooped, to unclick the cushions behind his lower legs and raise them, until they clicked firmly into place with his legs and Mary Janes pointing straight at the wall mirror ahead of him. "But for loving his darling girly dresses, we had better separate those girlish legs... and spread them wi-i-ide," she said, grinning above the high neck of her white blouse. "Oh! Please no!" he cried through his teeth. "I don't wa....Arrgggghhhhhhhhhh!" and his governess pulled one leg on its separated cushion until it pointed out to the side. "And the other," she sang, pulling that one the other way. "Rrrrrrrgghhhhh! ... Nnnnggghhhhhhhh!" cried the youth as his other leg was pulled just as far in the opposite direction. All the women laughed at his look of horror as his blouse and genitals seemed awfully unprotected now that his legs were wide apart. "Is Sissy Lyndon feeling all helpless and terribly vulnerable?" said Vera, joining the others in front of her stepson, and pulling the pair of pink silk gloves onto her hands, pushing the fingers to the very tips and holding her arms for Barbara and Andrea to button her gloves. She stood as if modelling her little girl dress of thick pink silk for him, so short it showed the crotch of her little white panties, with two little puffed sleeves and a white Peter Pan collar that was scalloped round its edge. She was still wearing a bow of pink silk on top of her hair, to torment him with her little-girl-dress image, while her legs shone in navy blue tights with black patent high heels. She stood close to his legs, pressed one of her shiny knees against his and said: "I think a little wider!" Her push sent his cushioned leg wider still, until it clicked into the next position. A wail of pain shrieked from his mouth, which he couldn't turn or move in the slightest. "And the other side!" laughed his stepmother, and the result was that Lyndon sat immobilized, his legs totally spread-eagled and his elbows spread like cherub's wings on either side of his head as he gurgled and grisled for the laughing women. "Would you like to take your seat, Ma'am," said Enid, showing Vera to her place behind her stepson. A moment later, Vera was sitting in the cushioned extension beneath the youth's exposed buttocks, so that her high heels sat comfortably in front of her on the carpet where his legs had been before they were spread. "Are you comfortable, Lyndon?" she enquired, leaning forward and murmuring into the frill at his ear. "I hope so, because you can't move an inch, darling... can you?" His pained protests were ignored, as Barbara stood in front of stepson and stepmother holding the interesting box that the Doctor had given her. " 'Sissy Girl'," read Andrea, peering at the box as Barbara opened it and slid out a pink, heart-shaped item which looked like a flat silk cushion for a doll, or maybe a purse, with narrow ribbons of a darker pink woven into one end. She caught hold of a little ribbon bow at one upper curve of the heart and slid it into the centre and up to the other curve, unzipping what turned out to be not a cushion but a pouch. A strong fragrance filled the room from one mirrored wall to the other, sweet and deeply feminine, as the older councilor stood above the grisling youth in her brown and white striped blouse and brown leather skirt to present the opened heart to their hostess. The grin of glee on Vera's face showed she fully appreciated what she was doing as she placed her fingers at the slot and sank her glove to the wrist inside it. "The sleeve contains Silk-Feel," she explained, as she slid in her second glove. After smoothing both her hands round inside for fully half a minute, she withdrew them and clasped her gloves together. "One of the leading products in today's sissification programs, according to Jessica. Silk-Feel applied to a sissy is the best form of genital and anal impregnation, and Sissy-Girl is the best Silk Feel on the internet. It will apply girls' hormones directly into the sexual areas, and will add to the girlish desires of our two girly little clowns." The women couldn't stop giggling at the power Vera was going to have over her stepson, because they would share it too, making him suffer agonies of shame in his little dresses. "Bring your chairs round him," said Barbara, "so that he sees you watching as I feminize his personal little places." "Oh no, stepmother... what are you going to do to me?" whimpered the boy, the tears and snot running down his face onto his blouse and stomach. "We'd love to see little Lyndon becoming even more of a girl," giggled Andrea, pulling an armchair right in front of his erected genitals. Gail was beside her, in her red satin blouse. "Make him suffer really girlish feelings," she cried, settling down to enjoy his sufferings. Miss Feel arrived in front of him in her high necked white blouse and black taffeta skirt, holding the hook of a coat hanger and a dress cover in white satin embroidered with gold thread. The way it spread outwards, flaring from top to bottom, made it evident that it contained a dress. "You sniveling clown," cried Vera to her stepson. "Here's a dress for you; something I'm sure you'd like to wear, you girl!" Enid slid the cover up into the air, and he was faced with a dazzling communion dress in white dupionne satin, with ruffles round the cuffs of its pretty puffed sleeves and a white chiffon sash belt which did into a huge bow at the back of the high waist. The dress would have been almost ankle length for a girl of six or seven and fastened down the back from the neck to below the waist with twelve satin covered buttons. The boy's wail was heartfelt, needing its touch, eager to press his stiffened penis and testes into its satin folds to make love to its girlish sweetness. "I want to wear it," he cried, smitten with its prettiness. A long, gutteral moan escaped his lips as one of Vera's gloves held his penis in a fist while the other fondled his testacles beneath it. "A lov-ely girl-ly dress!" he gurgled as his eyes devoured Enid's fingers sliding under the wide, pointed collar in satin edged with a creamy satin trimming, then slipping into the puffed sleeves to ripple here and there to show him how the puffs of satin could enclose his shoulders in femininity. "Stepmother - sob - pleeeeeeeeeeease... I want to kiss the dress... I want - sob - to LOVE the little darling and - sob - sob - and be a GIRL!" begged Blonding, his penis trying to reach across the two or three inches that separated him from the satin. Barbara, Gail and Andrea sat with their legs wide open Their fingers made slucking, squelching sounds as they roused their pleasure easily with the help of Fem-Agra. All the more because of his helpless surrender as Vera's pink gloves squirmed and smoothed around his groin and genitals. Enid stood at the mirror, awaiting Vera's word. "Let's show the little girl some more pretty dresses, shall we?" said her mistress. "Look, you pervert. Look what Miss Feel has got, waiting for you in your new life." The governess moved the mirror, running it to the side... revealing a wardrobe six feet wide and twenty of the prettiest dresses in a row of puffed sleeves and widely flaring skirts. She was sliding dresses out... one, two, three, and hanging them next to each other so that they faced the helplessly spread-eagled boy with his penis being impregnated. "Oh stepmother... it's l-l-lovely, how sweet and... girly," cried Blonding as a dress for a four-year-old in lemon satin was brought over to him and held a few inches in front of his face. "Please, stepmother... I want to wear the lovely little dress," and he managed to wriggle his feet in his eagerness to reach it. "I may allow you to wear it, you wimp," said Vera, "but first you've got to show me how much you love your communion dress. Nanny is going to lower it over your sissy clittie for you." "Oh yessss, pleeeeeeease!" came the frantic plea, and Enid inched forward the communion dress, then lifted the satin and its silk lining over his genitals, until they were inside its cold skirt. "There you are, you perverted little pansy," growled his stepmother as she used one hand to press the pleated lemon bodice into his face and the other to finger the inside of his anus, while Enid spread the dress along the inside of his wide open thighs. The pleading stopped in a moment, transformed into a swell of deepest moaning from the dress covered sissy. "Love your dresses, sissy-girlie," soothed Vera, helping Enid to surround his head in the little dress of lemon satin. "Just feel how the little dresses are loving you, making you a darling little girlie." "Mmmghhh... nnnnnnnnnnghhh!" wailed Lyndon the best he could from his satin hood as his stepmother made sure his anus was deeply affected by the swell of pleasure from the Fem-Feel. "I want the satin dress," he managed to get out before his face was smothered again in swirls of fondling silk, and as the women moaned and fingered themselves to rapture, the sissy's ejaculation started its approach. He tried to reach deeper into the dresses. He wanted to embrace them and love them, but he was buckled and held immovably as his penis spurted its first juice, then gathered for the next, until the jets of sissified cum shot into every fold and crease of the communion dress, reaching up to its waist with squirt after squirt. Barbara called out with ecstasy as she reached her climax and enjoyed its long, blissful ache of pleasure, her fingers slucking inside her vagina, followed within moments by Andrea and by Gail, their legs over the sides of their armchairs and their vulvas running with steaming juice. *** In the Dressing Lounge, Miles Johnson was in tears, as Doctor Harding wheeled the big frame across the room and positioned it with Lucinda's help so that it was behind Alison, with its arm above her and the fastening slings tied up for the time being, out of the way. It was a simple upright column, a foot deep and six inches wide, fully adjustable, mounted on a forked base which ran on pneumatic wheels and slotted round the sides of an armchair from behind. Miles Johnson was wriggling as if he was having a fit on his Headmistress's knee. "Please help me, Miss Forceman," he pleaded, close to tears. "I want to be a girl. Oh I so want it, I beg you. Please let me be a girl for the ladies." "Well," snorted Alison, gripping him tightly, still chained at the wrists, knees and ankles, "something has changed your tune. What's come over you then?" Doctor Harding giggled as she prepared the sling of the overhanging frame. "That's the Fem-Agra at work," she said. He needs a dress, frantically." She was right. The young teacher tried his best to twist his head and kiss the girls' dress his Headmistress was wearing. "I want to wear a girls' dress," he cried. "Pleeeeeeeeeeease!" "Oh my, Johnson, my dainty, helpless girly," said Alison, wiping the tears and snot off his face with a perfumed tissue, "let's take another look at the little message on your baby's bib, you little wimp: it says: 'I WANT TO LOVE GIRLS' DRESSES'. Oh my goodness, my girly darling. Shall we start with this one?" and she signaled Lucinda to slide the cover off the top, to reveal a dress of palest blue taffeta, clearly a Sunday School dress, with large collar, balled puff sleeves, three mock dress buttons down to the waist between little ruffles, and a spreading skirt. It must have been three feet from collar to hem, and might have been for a six-year-old girl. "Ohhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" wailed Miles Johnson as Alison undid the ribbons of his bib and slid it off him. His eyes devoured the dress as it hung just in front of him. "Isn't it GOR-geous!" marveled Alison into his face. "But wait until Nanny Heiffer turns it round for you, my little pervert." Lucinda slowly turned the hanger, revealing a big bow of pale blue taffeta with ribbons dangling almost beyond the hem, and a long row of dress buttons from the divided collar down to the hem. "Ohhhhhhhhhh! Ohhh, it's pretty!" slobbered Johnson, his mouth lolling open with abject desire. "Pretty dress buttons. Aren't they beautiful. Ohhh I want to wear the darling dress. I want... to... kiss the bow... pleeease!" His words brought a moan of pleasure from Alison as she held onto him, while Arabella stood alongside Jessica, rippling her fingers in and out of her vulva. "L-Let him kiss-ss it, Alison," she murmured, her lower jaw slack while saliva drooled from the middle of her lipstick onto her blouse. "Ohhhhhhhh I'm loving seeing him like this." "Maybe I will," smirked Alison, "but Jessica has one last refinement to prepare him for his dress-loving." "Why not put him into the dress first, to madden his feminine feelings?" said the Doctor. "Then we'll fasten him into the frame. The Fem-Feel will suit him very nicely at that stage as we show him some more little dresses." She unlocked the sissy's chain cuffs at ankles, knees and wrists and Alison held him to one side so that she could undo the back of his blouse. He was soon naked, all but his lacy anklets and shoes. Lucinda undid the back of the dress, a grin of scornful triumph on her crimson lips. "Dress me in it... oh please, Miss Heiffer. I want to be a girl in my little dress," he whimpered, and Alison turned his back to her and slid his legs so that his bare buttocks sat astride her navy tights. "Put your handies into the sleeves of your dress, little girl," she said to him in a sing-song voice, and he was only too eager to obey. The taffeta sizzled up his arms, the dress spread itself around him, and he was dressed in a girls' dress, with a white petticoat lining. Arabella was on her feet in her purple and silver striped blouse and large skirt of white pleats, holding him by one arm as Lucinda held the other, for Alison to draw the dress together at his back. "Oh my, isn't this a cutie dress collar round your shoulders, little girl? Let me button it together for you, so that you feel really feminine in your beautiful dress." The tightness of the dress brought feverish heartbeats for Johnson and his emotions were running away. "Ohhh yes, Miss Forceman," he bleated, "Ohhh, my dress collar. Isn't it pretty!" His words brought giggles from all four women as they looked at how tight the collar was at his neck. Alison pulled the dress tightly together and buttoned him down to his waist, almost to his buttocks. "Now I'm going to fasten the sash for you, darling," she said. "Ohhh, it's so feminine!" A warble of pleasure shook through the teacher at her words, and as he felt the waist of the dress cinching tighter, he cried out: "Am I a girl now, Miss Forceman? I do hope my dress has made me a girl!" "You will be," laughed the Headmistress, and she held him ready for Jessica to fix him into the overhead frame. "Zis is so thrilling," giggled Lucinda, helping Jessica to position the apparatus behind the chair. "I can't vait to see ze sissy hanging in it." "Oh yes, string him up for us," cried Arabella, spreading her stockings wide with her legs over the arms of her chair. "Make him helpless," said Alison, her voice growling with female venom. "Let's get his baby girl prick where we can tease it to death," cried Arabella, who threw off her lace-covered panties and slumped back into her chair. Her white pleated skirt was up over her striped blouse, with her heavyweight thighs opened as far as they would go while her fingers started their search for pleasure in her vagina. "Do them really tight," urged Jessica as Lucinda fastened the sissy's hands together in an up-the-back position. There were two satinised ropes with ankle-and-instep loops which Lucinda pulled down from the overhead arm and secured round each of his feet. A moment later, the inertia pull lifted his legs high into the air with a wail of surprise, so high that he was almost hanging by his feet, with his buttocks lifted off Alison's lap and his dress and petticoat falling up to his face. The next step was to sit him upright while his legs were spread and lifted. A velvet elastic rope was looped round one thigh, stretched under his back so that it lifted him, and hooked into place round his other thigh. The captive sissy was forced forward into view between his up-stretched legs, bringing a whoop of laughter from all of them. Jessica and Lucinda stood, aching with laughter, as they were faced by the startled and helpless sissy forced forward in his dress, his bare legs stretched straight up beside his shoulders, and his frilled anklets and Mary Janes now above his head. It was the expression of shock mixed with injustice that was so funny as Lucinda spread the wide Peter Pan collar and straightened it sweetly around his cheeks as the tears came. His ropes were adjusted until his opened buttocks sank slowly downwards and dangled in Alison's lap. "There we are, my little girly," she cooed, hugging her weeping young teacher round his tied wrists and upstretched thighs. "What a luverly lickel sweetheart I have, ready for us to see how much he likes the luverly lickel girls' dresses. Isn't this going to be nice, pwecious?" Even when she let go of him to pull on her satin gloves, he stayed in the same position, dangling and twisting as he hung with weeping sobs. "Please let me down... oh... boo-hoo," he wailed as the Doctor held the Fem-Feel purse for Alison. He watched through bitter tears as his former Headmistress's gloves sank into the potent interior of the Sissy-Girl heart, to the giggles of the other two women. When her gloves had spent a good minute inside the Sissy-Girl Silk-Feel, Alison withdrew them and massaged her hands together in slippery smoothness. "My hands feel like electric," she said... "eager for my sissy's girly genitals and his anus. I'm ready for your genitals now, you clown," she giggled. "Ready to make your sissy passage really girly under your lovely Sunday dress." With that, she clutched his penis and scrotum in both hands and gloved them all over in fondling squeezes, bringing squeals of surprise from the helpless face in its blue dress collar. "Does that make you feel like a girl, Johnson?" she giggled, thrilling with pleasure as she deepened the sexual conversion of her wretched teacher. "Does it make you feel rosy and feminine all round here?" The poor male wanted to pull away, to untangle himself, to escape from Dressing Manor... but his urges were all the opposite. "Oh yes, Miss Forceman. Thank you. Thank you. Oh thank you for making me a girl." Lucinda, in the meantime had hung a second dress ready on a single dress stand: a carved upright wooden pole with a short arm onto which the dress hanger was clipped. The dress was for a younger child, perhaps three or four, with a white bodice only deep enough for three mock white buttons and little white puffed sleeves, with back buttons to the high waist, while the skirt flared very widely in pale blue silk, scattered with little orange, black and white flowers. It had an inverted pleat in the middle at the front, with a little ribbon bow where the pleat closed at the top. She moved it forward so that the silk hung six inches from the buttocks of Miles Johnson, his genitals straining forward to reach it. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he gasped as Alison's Silk-Feel fingers rolled backwards and forwards around his penis and scrotum, fondling him in every nook and cleft, softly squeezing and massaging the babyish parcels with both hands, again and again... pressing and pulling, squashing and stretching... playing with his poppets remorselessly as Lucinda spread the little dress out wide for him to see. She held one of the puffed sleeves and opened it for him, so that he wished his penis inside, to caress the white satin lining that he could see in there. "That's got to be a party dress for a two year old," growled Arabella, whose crotch was glistening with female juice. "I'll bet he wants to love it, don't you, you little girl?" Alison murmured softly in her teacher's ear. "Is it a girl's party dress, do you think, Johnson?" "Ohhhhhhhhhh yesss! Yesssssssssssss!" gasped Miles Johnson in defenceless arousal as his Headmistress inserted two fingers into his anal sphincter and pressed home to a depth of five... six inches. She massaged their Silk-Feel into his anus as the dress crept three or four inches closer, practically touching his genitals. "I want to love the little dress, Miss Forceman, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease." "I might let you love your Sunday dress, if you confess your perverted desires," declared Alison, squeezing a third finger deep inside his anus. "I wonder if you want to kiss this second dress that your nanny has got for you?" Lucinda had hung a second dress from the frame above their heads, its hanger dangling on a cord so that its ruffled pink and blue bodice hung just out of reach of his nose and lips. "Ohhhh! A silk dwess," gurgled Johnson, his mouth gagging open, longing to reach it. "Sweet wuffles... a pwetty bow at the neck... a girls' dwess. I want to kiss it, Miss Forceman. Oh please... pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!" Alison couldn't stop giggling as he dangled in the lap of her stockings. She nodded to Lucinda, who eased the dress stand closer, bringing squeaks and whimpers from her sissy, until the skirt of the little dress touched his panting penis, softly frolled against it, and pressed into the underside of his thighs. She arranged it carefully around his penis, so that his knob pressed into the inverted pleat, some two or three inches from the top, then she lowered the stand a little, so that his sissified penis felt as if it was forcing its sexual passage into the closed heart of the little dress. "Oh what a beautiful lickel party dwess!" he exclaimed, his mouth gaping, dribbling, and his eyes drawn down with shameful desire as he tried his utmost to push his cock higher and higher into the deep silk pleat. The dress responded, thanks to his nanny, and pressed down onto his organ, trapping him in its silken skirt. His moans turned to wails, then squeals, until he could stand no more of this feminine pleasure in his anus and his cock at the same time. It gathered in his private, sensitive parts, ready to burst, as he begged to become a girly girl, until his penis became wet at its tip, in pleat of pretty silk, then it spluttered with a squirt of cream which lubricated the inside of the dress, sliding around his helmet, followed by more cream, in a bigger dribble, warm and slippery, sliding around his penis. Then the dress overwhelmed his helpless nature, and his penis belched up a full squirt of jism, into the very top of the dress pleat as he looked down onto its lovely blue bow above where he was squirting his fountain of love into his darling little party dress. Beneath him, Alison had separated her legs, leaving him dangling with the lightest touch on her thighs, and was fingering her clitoris with floods of blissful satisfaction. How successful had been their plan of using Fem-Agra, to destroy this worthless idiot's sex and turn him into a scream of a laugh. An utterly helpless sissy, squirting and squirting, and wanting to be a girl. Well he would get what he wanted... the following day. In the meantime, their little game of delightful pleasures was interrupted, just as Johnson's spasms of cum began to reduce, little by little, until his whimpers quietened and he was merely sobbing in front of the dress that hung wetly in front of him. "Hello, Alison... Doctor... Arabella. We've come to see if your sissy is ready yet for little girl kisses and cuddles." It was Barbara, leading the way from the next room, as Vera led her pitiful stepson by the hand in a new little dress he had been put into. It was very simple: an A- line dress, slightly crisped, in white nylon spotted all over with tiny white rosebuds. Its little sleeves were puffed and gathered at his shoulders and its Peter Pan collar was as wide as the shoulders, edged all round with a trim of white lace, while the dress was not quite long enough to reach his buttocks or genitals. Indeed, his penis had been put into a little bouquet of pink ribbons, with a bow beneath his scrotum and another at the front of his miniature stiffy, while his penis helmet had been sweetened with clear lip gloss. His lips too were glossed, only they were in petal pink, and his eyes had been made up with shadow, eye liner and penciled brows. When he saw his teacher, Miles Johnson, dangling from his feet, with his face surrounded by his blue dress collar, with a darling girls' party dress pressed into his front and a beautiful pink, blue and white dress hanging in front of his feet, he longed for what he saw. He wanted his sissified, little girly teacher... Mr Johnson... swathed in pretty dresses. He swung round to his stepmother, his face twisted with desire. "Oh darling stepmother, I want him. I want to kiss him. Can I kiss Mr Johnson... he's so GIRLY." His outburst was so obviously truthful that all the women gathered round to see the eagerness on his blushing face. Vera held onto him but used her other hand to run her fingers through his blond hair and push it off his face so that they could all see. "There we are, girls," she said. "Now you can see what a sissy nancyboy I have turned my stepson into. He just can't wait to fondle and cuddle with this fool that Alison has been working on." There was outright laughter from everyone as they looked at the state of the two sissies. "I think I am going to let you do what you like with that stupid, sexless wimp, you little girl. Would you like to hold his head and rub it into the front of your pretty dress? Or would you like to use a cane across his naughty bare legs for being such a sissy girly?" "Oh yes. Yes please!" blurted the 18-year-old. "I want to cane him on his legs for being a girl." "Or maybe..." added his stepmother, "you would like to kiss his little cock. It's ever so girly now, you know." This idea fell upon her stepson like the sound of music. His eyes lit up, especially when Lucinda withdrew the little blue and white dress and there was Mr Johnson's wet, babyish cock and suspended buttocks in Miss Forceman's lap. "Oh yes, stepmother. That's what I want to do. I want to SUCK his girly cock." "His clitty, you mean," corrected Enid Feel, prettying the wide collar of his white dress across his shoulders. "Precisely," said Vera. "Alison, can he be raised a foot or two? Then I'll be able to carry on feeling my idiot's testes and anus while he's paying attentions to your idiot's prick." Jessica adjusted the height of the pulleys, and Miles Johnson found himself swinging slightly as he rose feet first towards the ceiling. "That's good," she said. "the more feminizing they get in those sensitive areas, the more female they will be tomorrow at their girling ceremony. I think we had better soften your gloves again, both of you." As the Doctor held the Fem-Feel heart for Vera's gloves first and then Alison's, Enid fastened Lyndon's knees together in thick satin ribbon, then ribboned his hands behind his back. His penis had to be un- ribboned, however, to receive more girlifying massage, and a few minutes later, the whimpering Miles Johnson looked down on the beautiful, girlish face of his pupil, looking so attractive in his white dress collar. As his pink glossed lips closed over his penis, he thought he was being kissed by a girl, adding yet more femininity to his penis, while his anus was filled and fingered by Miss Alison Forceman. The girlish little sissy sucked and sucked, his blond hair bobbing up and down above his dress collar, feeling so blissfully as though he was a little girl in his white little dress, while even the hopelessness that he felt made Miles Johnson feel more and more feminine and more and more of a sissy. It took the two of them half an hour of soft moans and wriggles, in deepest sucking, before Miles Johnson started to spurt his sissy milk into Lyndon Blonding's mouth. And that was the signal for the young pupil to feel even more sissy than he did before, and he shot wreaths of cream, each one about two seconds apart, high inside the front of his darling little dress. *** In the final chapter: The sissies are united in their Girling Ceremony. This story and all Prim's forced feminization stories and art are in Prim's Petticoat Wendyhouse at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com