Petals and Thorns
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A Pansy Among The Thorns Pt. 14 free porn video
Pt. 14: Prissy
The following weeks saw Prissy's life spiral further than he'd even
thought possible just a few months ago.
To maintain his 'adorable' new 'do, Prissy was required to roll his hair
in tight curlers every night just before his 8pm bedtime - Cheryl allowed
him one extra hour just to facilitate this laborious routine, which was
lucky as it usually took the whole hour just to finish! He'd never met
any girl who spent so much time on such an uncomfortable beauty ritual,
and Mia delighted in reminding him. She took care of her nighttime
routine (removing her mascara and moisturising her face) in mere moments
while the boy sat at his vanity, painstakingly ensuring his rollers were
arranged in neat rows before spraying them with clouds of hairspray and
covering them in a frilly chiffon bonnet.
"You know women in the '50s did this every night?" Cheryl told him while
inspecting his curlers one night. "Can you believe men had them convinced
they had to go through all this painful, boring rubbish just to be
beautiful? Well anyway, as long as it makes you feel beautiful, that's
the important thing." The boy whimpered as she lightly patted his tightly
secured rollers and sent him off to bed.
Each morning, after 'putting on his face' for the day, Prissy had to
brush out his curls into a perfect coiffure, necessitating yet more time
and patience. At first, he struggled to recreate the style Amy had given
him, but after a few weeks of practice, Prissy was competently shaping
his hair into a bouncy pageboy just like she had. Soon though, Mia found
a full series of video lessons on vintage styles, from bouffant flips and
beehives to victory rolls and Hollywood waves, and once again Prissy's
'free time' was entirely colonised in the pursuit of perfecting these
looks.
"Hey, just think," Mia chuckled one evening while watching Prissy attempt
to spray down a particularly stubborn flyaway. "If school doesn't work
out, maybe you could just become a stylist and makeup artist!"
Cheryl clearly delighted in choosing the most elaborately embarrassing
ensembles the fairy's wardrobe had to offer for his school outfits. He
often felt like a life-sized doll in the morning, standing stock still as
she held item after item against his body, wondering out loud what his
schoolmates would say about today's look. When he balked at the selection
she laid out, Cheryl merely told the boy to "treat the hallway like a
runway," and, thanks to Mia's rigorous deportment training, it appeared
to all onlookers he did precisely that.
Thoroughly transformed as he was, the boy managed to avoid most physical
bullying - nobody thought of him as a 'man' anymore - but school was
still an unending circus of humiliations. Among the girls, it became a
favoured prank to ask the sissy on a date, loudly offering all manner of
erotic thrills, gleeful in the knowledge that he had to refuse thanks to
the pledge he'd made to Samantha. It never ceased to cause floods of
giggles when Prissy replied in his airy, lisping falsetto.
The fairy was even regularly castigated by teachers for his flouting of
the school dress code. "Patri- sorry, Prissy, I'm glad you feel able to
express yourself at school now," his maths teacher, Ms. Thomas, had
sternly told him, "but I'm afraid a white feather minidress is not
exactly appropriate learning attire. And I'm sure you can wait until
lunch to reapply your lipstick!"
Of course, Ms. Thomas was absolutely correct. Between constant cosmetic
and hair touch-ups, frequent outfit adjustments, not to mention his
unwieldy new nails, Prissy was unable to focus on any of his schoolwork
for more than 10 seconds at a time. Maintaining the fastidiously ultra-
feminine image Cheryl insisted on was simply too demanding of his time
and effort to leave any opportunity for education.
And even at school, Prissy quickly learned there was no escaping Mummy's
requirements. One day, after forgetting to put his hair up in his rollers
the night before, the boy assumed he would have to tie it in a bun or
wear it down for the day. Not so. Cheryl insisted that he simply roll it
in the morning and wear his curlers to school. "It'll give you a chance
to wear this lovely silk headscarf, won't that look nice? I'm sure your
friends will be fascinated to see all the effort you go through to look
so pretty for them!"
Prissy pleaded desperately, but soon he was on the bus to school, his
roller-covered head an even greater beacon attracting humiliation than
usual. Mummy dressed him in a matching pink silk wrap dress that gave his
already slight frame a slinky, model-esque silhouette, and accessorised
him with a large white leather handbag and matching oversized sunglasses.
At school, his female classmates poked and prodded his head all day,
wondering aloud if it was painful (it was) and how much time he wasted on
his hair every night (a lot!)
Prissy never forgot to roll his hair again after that.
--
All of this combined to cause an immediate and precipitous drop in the
boy's academic performance. Not only had he completely neglected his
studies over the summer break, but now he appeared to be more interested
in plucking his brows and making sure his skirt was neat during class
than studying. His teachers were concerned, but Prissy was even moreso!
"Miss Mia, please!" he pleaded one evening a few weeks into the school
term, as his stepsister evaluated his attempt at a bouffant French twist.
"I'm really starting to worry about university! I was on track for
straight As last year and now most of my teachers are predicting Ds and
Es, if I pass at all!"
"That is serious," Mia intoned in an appropriately solemn tone. "We're
having our fun obviously but, it's not like Mum or I want to ruin your
future!" The boy felt a small bubble of hope emerge inside of him. "Let
me sort some things out and I'm sure we can help you get something good.
I think this could be a bit pouffier, don't you?" She lightly stroked the
top of the hairdo which had taken Prissy 45 minutes to shape. The
optimism at potentially being able to regain his classroom prowess
provoked a profound feeling of gratitude towards his stepsister. Even the
smallest gestures of mercy on her or her mother's part now seemed
enormous to the boy.
"Oh yes Miss Mia, I'll redo it right away!" the boy squealed with girlish
glee, already deftly removing pins from the large column of hair at the
back of his head.
Pt. 14b
To his credit, Hank noticed his son's slipping grades almost as quickly
as the boy himself, though he was not nearly as gentle as Mia in his
acknowledgement.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy? If you wanna prance around
at home like a little beauty queen, that's one thing, but school is
important! You can't just throw everything we've worked for away for this
little girly boy fantasy of yours." Prissy shivered in fear. Ever since
the incident on his birthday, the boy had been terrified of his father's
temper. His experience with Damian on the first day back had only further
reinforced the fact Prissy now lived in the same world as the average
woman when it came to his interactions with other men: he could be
overpowered physically at any time.
As a result of this trepidation, he found himself speaking even higher
and softer, and acting even more deferentially around men, though this
wimpy persona soon became easier to maintain permanently rather than
trying his luck with the women in his life. Every time he had to curtsey
to one of his former friends (most of whom he'd obviously outranked in
the school's social hierarchy) the boy felt so overcome with
embarrassment it was hard to keep the simpering smile on his face. Sheer
apprehension held him in place - it would be far worse to be slapped into
grovelling submission by a supposed peer.
"I'm so sorry Daddy!" Out of instinct now, Prissy felt himself drop into
a submissive curtsey in front of Hank, pulling the hems of his pleated
knee length skirt out between thumb and forefinger while bowing his head
shamefully. "Ow!" The boy squeaked as his father smacked the back of his
head.
"Come on Pat, quit it with the daddy shit and get your head out your
ass." When Cheryl wasn't around, Hank still couldn't bring himself to
refer to Prissy by his new name, not-so-secretly still hoping the boy
would return to masculinity soon. "Look, I've organised for a tutor to
come to the house and help you catch up. Aaron Evans, if you remember, he
was on the football team when you tried out a couple years back? He's in
university now but he's back home for a work placement at the moment.
Real go-getter, like you... well, like you used - anyway. He's coming
over tomorrow night and the two of you are going to work, hard. You have
been top of your class your whole life Pat, I know you can crush this
final year if you just focus."
Seeing the determination in his father's face, Prissy welled up slightly,
but held back tears. He could do this with Dad's support. And if he could
just get out of the house to another town for the next stage of his life,
all of this could still be reversed. He could still be a man, still get
with women (screw Samantha's stupid pledge) he could still do everything
he wanted. It's not like Cheryl could stop Hank hiring a tutor anyway,
what would she say? This was his chance.
--
The following evening, Prissy waited patiently near the door. School had
been a nightmare as usual, but as soon as he was in the door, he'd
changed into his most sensible outfit: a sky blue cotton shirt, a
relatively unadorned black skirt which reached down to just below his
knees and a pair of thick black tights. His hair was still set in
romantic, 40s style waves from that morning, and he wore a complementary
makeup look of matte red lips, high-plucked dark brows and fluttery
lashes. He knew Cheryl wouldn't permit him to wash all of this off before
Aaron arrived, but he hoped the outfit change would at least put him on
slightly more respectable footing with the older boy.
Despite everything aligned against him, Prissy felt his hopes rise again
as he waited with school books clutched to his chest. His father was out
with some friends this evening, but had told Cheryl and Mia in no
uncertain terms that tonight was blocked off - no makeup practice, no
hairdos, no impromptu fashion shows - he was to study and that was that.
Even Mia's teasing about him 'having a boy over,' wasn't enough to ruin
his mood. Freedom was so close, if only he could just grab it.
The doorbell rang and Prissy was on his feet immediately, darting down
the hardwood hallway while taking care not to slip in his hose. Somehow
though, from another room, Cheryl entered the hall just in front of him,
opening the front door before her stepson had a chance. Standing just
outside, Aaron Evans cut an impressive figure, standing several inches
taller than Prissy and significantly broader. His torso seemed to barely
fit into his striped polo, with a book-filled rucksack slung casually
over his back that looked rather heavy to his feminised student. The boy
recalled the time he'd tried out for the football team, the sense of
competition he'd felt with the older boy. One day soon, that'll be me
again, he thought to himself.
"Well hi! You must be Aaron!" Cheryl affected the same fake sweetness
Prissy recalled from when he'd first met her. He could tell the older boy
was far less wary than he'd been.
"Hi Ms. Thorn! It's nice to meet you. And this must be... well, no Mr.
Thorn told me I'd be tutoring his son. Are you Pat's sister?" He
addressed Prissy directly, tilting his head warmly. This was a horrible
start.
"Oh dear!" Cheryl trilled, turning her head back. "Naughty daddy, he
still hasn't quite adjusted yet has he darling?" Aaron looked on in
confusion. "This is Pat, honey," Cheryl put her hand on the small of the
boy's back and pushed him forward. "Although he goes by Prissy now.
Prissy Pansy - isn't that cute? He picked it himself." She giggled as
Aaron looked on in seeming disbelief. Much as Prissy had (and still did)
want to meet his new tutor, the experience of being 'outed' as a sissy
never stopped being miserably embarrassing.
"You're... a boy?" His face had turned slightly red, but it was obvious
he wanted to maintain a grown-up, professional attitude. "I, see. Well
that's no problem. I'm sure we can go over... some, maths, um...
physics..."
"Perfect!" Cheryl clapped a hand around Aaron's back, pulling him in the
door. "Why don't you boys head up to Prissy's room and study in there.
It'll probably be too distracting down here with Mia and I fussing
around."
"Are - are you sure Ms. Thorn? I'm sure we'd be just fine down here..."
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck with a slightly nervous expression.
Prissy knew there was no way they'd get anything done if they stayed down
here though, Mia would never let up with her stupid comments and all this
effort would be for nothing.
"Mummy's right Aaron, my room will be the perfect place!" Prissy reached
out and grabbed his new acquaintance's hand and began to pull him up the
stairs, immediately feeling silly for being so overfamiliar. Aaron didn't
seem to mind though, laughing warmly as he held onto the boy's hand and
followed him up the stairs.
--
"OK so you see this here, this is called a stem and leaf diagram. And we
use these to..."
Aaron sat next to Prissy on the boy's pink satin bedspread, a maths
textbook open between them. Try as he might though, and as slowly as the
older boy ran through the material, Prissy just could not grasp things as
quickly as he used to. Maybe it was just the level of abstraction in
these problems, the boy reasoned to himself, this was about as hard as
maths could be after all.
Making matters worse though, he kept getting distracted, finding his eyes
wandering over to Aaron's arms. He hadn't spent this much time in close
proximity with anyone except Cheryl and Mia for ages, and although he
knew he'd lost a lot of weight and muscle mass, he'd had very little to
compare his body against recently. Aaron's thick, tanned arms dwarfed
Prissy's rake thin biceps, and the boy couldn't shake the image of an arm
wrestling contest from his mind. How effortless it would be for Aaron to
pin his arm, even the entire weight of his body, how inevitable the
outcome would be; no matter how hard Prissy tried.
"... And so to express this equation properl- Priss, you OK?" Aaron
looked probingly into the boy's eyes. "You seem a little... distracted."
Oh fuck, he'd noticed. And he'd got the wrong idea entirely! Prissy was
surprised at Aaron's muscles - jealous certainly - but he felt no
attraction towards him whatsoever. He hadn't even considered the
possibility! The idea of thinking about another guy like that turned his
stomach.
"Oh, oh my no, Aaron -" As seemed to be the case whenever he was nervous
lately, Prissy started to trip over his words, his pitch elevating to a
panicked squeak.
"Look, don't worry about this stuff, OK? You're gonna be just fine, trust
me." And in one smooth motion, Aaron swept the textbook off the bed and
placed one arm around his student's lower back, with the other hand on
Prissy's nylon-clad knee.
God, no, no, no. This could not be happening.
"You know Priss, you're really pretty..." Aaron adopted a lower, smoother
tone of voice, pulling Prissy closer without even registering the boy's
squirmy resistance. "You can touch them if you want. Go ahead." He firmly
took hold of the sissy's skinny wrist and brought the hand up to his
tensed bicep. Seeing his perfectly shaped French tips graze Aaron's
rippling upper arms produced such an intense feeling of defeated shame in
Prissy: an instantaneous awareness of the distance between him and a real
man, distance which was only growing larger and more impassable with each
day.
Involuntarily, he emitted a soft, high pitched moan. "Aaron... please."
He was totally tongue-tied, with no idea how to stop this. It didn't make
a difference for long, as the older, stronger boy swiftly twisted over
and pushed Prissy onto his back, manoeuvring himself atop the fairy boy
and leaning in for a hard kiss.
Prissy let out a high pitched shriek, although with the stronger boy's
lips pressed against his, it came out more like a muffled squeal of
excitement. It was a nightmare. Prissy had kissed a few girls in the last
couple of years, while he still had status and respect among his
schoolmates, but this was totally different. Aaron's rough tongue forced
its way into his mouth, exploring and probing, while his hands groped at
the boy's sides to hold him in place. He felt a strong knee in between
his legs, forcing them apart, and quickly found Aaron's hips meeting his
own, grinding against him with rhythmic intensity.
A moment later, Aaron broke the kiss and pulled up, smiling down at his
student who was pleading hysterically. "Aaron, you don't understand, I'm
a boy!" (His falsetto tones and fluttering eyelashes took away from the
impact of his protests somewhat.) Still holding the boy's arms down by
his side, Aaron responded: "I know, I know baby. Don't worry about it.
It's OK," before sinking back down and placing his mouth on Prissy's
again.
Though the boy attempted to wriggle away, he found Aaron's grip to be
much too strong, and eventually gave up resisting, closing his eyes and
waiting for the torment to end. His muffled cries turned to occasional
defiant whimpers, although his tutor seemed to understand these as noises
of excitement and satisfaction, only clutching him harder and kissing him
more deeply when they happened. The ordeal carried on for another 20
minutes, although to Prissy it felt like an agonising eternity, when
suddenly he heard footsteps on the staircase.
Shit, no. Please no, no, no, no, no-
Aaron was much too engrossed in the makeout session to hear anything
until the door opened behind them, as Cheryl burst through the door
holding two cans of diet soda.
"Hey boys! Sorry, I just thought you might wan- OH MY GOD! Prissy!" She
yelped, dropping the cans on the floor.
Aaron jumped up in shock. "Ms. Thorn, oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
We were just... Prissy and I were, uh..."
"I can see what you were doing!" Cheryl exclaimed. "I can't believe this.
Your father tries to help you and this is how you treat his trust?" She
glared at Prissy, who now sported smudged lipstick and messy curls, his
mascara running. "If you want a boyfriend so badly, I'm sure you can find
one, but this is just shameful behaviour!"
"Please Mummy!" Prissy was pleading through sobs. "I didn't want to! You
have to believe -"
"Yes you did!" Aaron interrupted indignantly. "You were staring at me the
whole time, I tried to study but you couldn't pay attention for one
second!"
"Oh don't listen to him, Prissy has been such a little minx lately,
always telling stories and fibs. I think he's still embarrassed about his
behaviour, but just can't help himself. This is just another example in a
long list."
At this point, Mia had come upstairs to investigate the commotion, and
was now standing in the doorway next to her mother. "Holy shit... hahaha,
were you two - really?" She spoke through giggles, both hands over her
mouth.
Aaron looked sheepishly at the floor while Prissy sniffed back further
tears. "I think I ought to get going now, sorry Ms. Thorn, sorry Prissy,"
the older boy said, packing his books back into his bag in a hurry.
Standing imperiously in the doorway, Cheryl spoke to her stepson once
more as Aaron stood up, ready to leave. "Well Prissy, you've already
ruined this poor young man's evening. Aren't you at least going to give
him a goodnight kiss?" Prissy's face turned a deep shade of red and his
eyes widened.
"Ms. Thorn, I don't think that's-"
"Sorry dear, I don't mean to embarrass you, I just know my son would
absolutely kick himself if he missed the opportunity for one more smooch.
Isn't that right?" She stared intently at the boy, who mournfully rose
off the bed, and stepped up on his tiptoes to give Aaron a final peck on
the cheek.
Now it was Aaron's turn to blush. He swung his bag around his shoulders
and rushed out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house. From
Prissy's room, the three remaining occupants heard a car start up and
drive away.
Alma
- 01.03.2023
- 18
- 0
