But soon the truth became inescapable: this sissy doll was me and I was she, a she forever. In less than one hour, I had become the personification of a wicked philosophy of sissification. And what was really shocking? How convincing I appeared! Yes, I suspected that I would have made quite a convincing young girl - if my transformation had been merely from teenage boy to teenage girl. But I was to be the sissiest of sissies, a baby maid, an object of total female control and pleasure. I was no longer a boy or a girl, but a being somewhere between and beneath the two sexes.
My eyes betrayed fascination as much as horror. Across the top of the thick broader satin panel that formed the upper section of the bonnet were the words "Baby Holly", carefully stitched in large red letters. I looked at these two words and realised they announced my true self, the self revealed in the shocking reflection, and I was utterly devastated.
As a tear of deep humiliation trickled from each baby blue eye, I felt, despite my continuing sexual excitement, a last stab of very male anger. Deep down, my crushed male self was still protesting.
'Yes,' Ms Stroheim announced, 'a most radical transformation. But this, my pretty baby, is only the beginning. If you think the worst is over, you are totally mistaken.'
Her words were delivered with a merciless assurance and I found myself looking up desperately at my mother. She merely smiled cruelly and wallowed in my terrible predicament.
Then my eyes returned to the mirror, to my long, shapely and highly feminine legs sealed tightly in sheer, pink nylon. To the thick, heavily be-frilled panties peeping erotically out from beneath the layers of multi-coloured frou-frou petiicoating, to the tight, achingly elaborate dress that so effectively displayed the buxom feminine form imparted by the body shaper.
I viewed my utterly unconvincing and soon to be real bosom. Then my eyes returned to my bonneted head and my tear stained eyes. And it was only then that I took notice of the clear rubber tube rising from beneath my bosom and up into the front of the pink plastic cover of the fiendishly effective dummy gag.
'Yes, Holly – the Recycler.'
My eyes returned to Ms Stroheim and my heart sped up with renewed worry and fear.
'This is another key weapon of control and the most powerful symbol of your complete and utter (and permanent) subjugation. The Recycler will remove the freedom to control the natural functions of your body. It will make you an object of absolute female control, and thus the truest sissy slave.'
My trepidation grew as Ms Stroheim pulled another controller from her skirt pocket. This was much smaller than the vibrator control panel, a circular pink plastic device with a small red button at its centre.
'The principle of the Recycler is simple: the control of your basic body digestion and waste management functions. Over the coming weeks, you will be made completely incontinent by the application of drugs and the widening impact of the vibrator. The restrainer's head is fitted with a network of micro-webbing that will allow urination without restriction. As you know, the vibrator is hollow and fitted with a detachable enema probe that also acts as a suction device. Both the probe and your penis are connected to the mobile Recycler via the network of tubes that are fitted to the body shaper. As you may have noticed, the tube traversing your waist is slightly thicker. This is because it actually contains two tubes, one for processing matter being transmitted into the mobile Recycler, and one for the processed recycle solution, which will be returned to your digestive system via the tube leading up to the dummy gag. The gag itself is made of a specially designed rubber which will act as a sponge, soaking up the recycle solution and then releasing it in a controlled fashion into your mouth and throat. This will prevent choking.'
I listened with increasing horror, yet also with increasing anger. The male self began to rage against its destruction – a final gesture of defiance in the face of this utter emasculation. My eyes widened. Tears dried up and anger replaced fear.
'The mobile Recycler is carried within its handbag container at all times. It is able to contain up to five pints of recycled and liquefied waste material. You will receive enemas twice daily to ensure that your bowel is thoroughly cleansed and that all faecal waist matter is released in a liquefied state. Liquefication will be ensured by a powerful laxative that is added to the recycle solution when it is being mixed in the Recycler. The Recycler attached to you at the moment also contains a special sterilising solution, flavouring, a number of key nutrients and a powerful sex drive enhancement drug. This will be mixed with the waste material and pumped back up to the dummy gag. Within two weeks, there will be no need for sterilisation, as you bowel will be completely cleaned of all impurities and all waste matter with be pure liquid. Of course, you will not be able to survive on constantly received waste matter, even if it is regularly injected with nutrients. You will therefore also be fed by your trainers twice daily. The food will be liquefied and administered via pint-sized baby bottles.'
As she paused, I tried to squeal my outrage into the gag, but only a pathetic, girlish peep of despair escaped the all-pervasive, silencing wall of soft rubber that so effectively filled my mouth.
'I am afraid food, and especially the pleasure of food, is now a thing of the past for you, Holly, as it is for all our sissy slaves. You live only to serve women in state of absolute and continual obedience. Your will live to be useful and give pleasure to your mistresses. To help ensure this, you will be kept in a state of powerful sexual arousal at all times. This is probably the only reason you will, for now, be allowed to keep your cock and balls. We will harness the violent energy that is at the heart of male desire and turn it into a tool for your control. Soon, you will be addicted to your pretty dresses, your sheer hose, your babyish frillies. Soon, there will be only sexual need and servitude – the two indistinguishable. A mistress may choose to relieve your constant and inescapable cravings at some point in the future, but while you are here, there will only be training and service.'
This was my awful, startling, brutally cruel fate. Tears now poured from my eyes. I looked again at my stepmother's beautiful visage and tried to communicate my terror and outrage. But then Ms Stroheim pressed the red button and a new and terrible stage in my sissy training began.
Very quickly, I felt a new vibration, a vibration that originated from the plastic container sealed in the dainty pink handbag. Then there was a strange, frightening movement in the vibrator and I sensed a slow, gradual release of the pressure on my stomach. Then I knew what was happening: the enema fluid was being released into the tubes, and thus – eventually – into the Recycler, and, when sterilised and mixed with the nutrients, the sex drug and the "flavouring" it would be pumped up to the dummy gag for release into my stopped, utterly helpless mouth!
I shook my head violently and tried to move towards my stepmother. I screamed my hate, my anger, my fading male essence. Almost immediately, thanks to the hobble, I lost my balance and collapsed onto the floor. It was then that I began to feel another, even more worrying sensation – the vibrator positioned so tightly in my backside was beginning to heat up! I squealed fear pain and looked up to see my stepmother standing over me with the vibrator remote in her hand.
The heat increased and with it came a very painful burning sensation. I wiggled and struggled and squealed. Tears flooded from my eyes. The sound of female laughter filled the room.
'If you continue to resist, the vibrator will be left on heat mode for a full ten minutes. If you calm down and follow our instructions, the heat mode will be switched off. Do you understand?'
Ms Stroheim's cold, merciless voice left me no option. Panic-stricken, I nodded furiously. Then the heat began to subside and soon the vibrator had returned to its highly arousing, relatively low-level throbbing.
Shaken and weakened, I was pulled to my feet and my elegant and deeply humiliating sissy costume was adjusted.
'The vibrator remote control can give you intense pleasure or, as you have just witnessed, intense pain. It is up to you which one y
ou experience.'
I nodded again, utterly defeated. And it was then that I began to taste the liquid that was beginning to seep through the mysteriously porous fabric of the fat dummy gag. An initial sense of utter disgust faded quickly when I realised the taste was far from unpleasant. Indeed, the liquid now trickling down my throat tasted very much like a sweet banana-flavoured milk shake!
'Take her to the reception room,' Ms Stroheim ordered.
The redhead took my tethered left arm and the blonde my right, and then I was led slowly from the white room, the booties and hobble ensuring my steps were tiny and helplessly little girlish. As I tottered so pathetically forward, I became aware that my tightly pantied bottom was wiggling in a distinctly feminine manner, and that the silicon padding was making my artificial boobs bounce in a highly suggestive and provocative fashion.
We left the room via a large metal door and then entered a very long, white-walled corridor fitted with thick white carpeting. There was no sound at all in the corridor, which was lined with a series of very similar metal doors, all painted white and each one numbered. I noticed that none of the doors had handles, and set by each was a rectangular metal box with a glass front piece.
We moved slowly down the corridor to room 6. Here, the blonde pressed the palm of her hand against the corresponding glass front piece. There was a sudden, low pitched beep and then the door slid open to reveal a shocking sight. Before me was a relatively small, pink walled room. Like the corridor, it was fitted with thick white carpet. Lining one side of the wall was a long, white leather sofa; on the other side of the room was an elegant white mahogany table on which were placed two bottles of wine, wine glasses and a collection of breakfast-style finger snacks. Sitting on the sofa were my two gorgeous stepsisters – Anita and Angeline. Both were being served snacks and drink from the table by two sissies.
My eyes widened with horror and a terrible, deep humiliation. I had forgotten all about my two stepsisters! Their original absence had been a mystery I had briefly pondered, but now their sudden and so unexpected appearance filled me with an awful dread.
As soon as I was led into the room, their cruel, honey brown eyes fell upon me. Yet, while they appeared deeply amused and indeed excited by my arrival, neither seemed to recognise me as there long-disliked stepbrother.
'Oh good, another one!' Angeline exclaimed, rising to her feet with the most malicious of grins on her beautiful face. 'And what a cutie! The best one yet!'
She then burst out laughing and Anita joined in. Although they could never know, I was blushing furiously and my eyes averted their wicked, merciless gazes with a soul-crushing desperation, falling upon the other sissies and a sight that provided me with a sudden and very terrible insight into my own intricately sissified future. For I found myself beholding two truly startling creations. The first, who was nearest to me, was taller and thinner. "She" was dressed in what appeared to be a white rubber, figure hugging leotard, an incredibly erotic second skin which revealed every contour of her sex bomb figure, including very large, perfectly shaped breasts with very long and very hard nipples. The leotard had a very high, lace be-frilled neck and rubber, fingerless mittens which appeared seamless attachments to each arm, thus giving her the appearance of having no hands! Her long, beautifully shaped legs were sealed in very fine, white latex rubber tights, and her feet rested in spectacular ankles boots made from silk lined white leather, each of which was dominated by a striking 6 inch stiletto heel! A tiny "tu-tu" like skirt was attached to the leotard, and just above it rested a very familiar white leather handbag. From just below her substantial breasts, the equally familiar rubber tube emerged, connecting via a wide arc to the front of the white plastic panel of her dummy gag. She too wore a large, intricately designed bonnet, through which thick strawberry blonde curls were clearly visible. The red lettering on the larger panel of the bonnet just above her forehead read "Baby Bonny".
Her eyes, which had clearly been made to look like those of a china doll by some form of wicked plastic surgery, were a stunning pale blue and stretched wide by unbearable sexual arousal. She seemed overwhelmingly excited by her feminisation, and each gesture, each movement was marked by a tiny shudder of almost painful sexual need.
Standing close to her was the second and even more startling sissy. This creature was dressed in red: she wore a gorgeous and explosive red satin mini dress rather similar to my own, but its very wide and short skirt was balanced upon a positive ocean of delicate frou-frou petticoating, all white and all semi-transparent. However, unlike my dress, the front of the skirt had been completely removed for a very simple and wicked purpose: to reveal her very large, deeply paradoxical penis! Tightly sheathed in a red nylon restrainer and held prisoner by three tight, thick silver rings – one at the top and one at the base of the stiff shaft, and a large one secured around her bulging testicles - her sex rose up the front panel of the marvellous dress and was connected to it by a small, narrow silver chain connected to the uppermost ring.
She wore cherry red, seamed tights and 3 inch stiletto heeled court shoes made from a glowing red patent leather. She was smaller and plumber than the strawberry blonde (with very large, tightly restrained breasts), her own jet hair hidden beneath another elaborate bonnet that revealed her to be "Baby Lulu".
Her carefully sculpted emerald-coloured eyes were filled with the same terrible need as her sissy companion, and she too was fully fitted with a mobile Recycler and the accompanying web of tubing.
Then Ms Stroheim and my stepmother entered the room.
'Meet Baby Holly,' my stepmother announced.
The looks of teasing amusement on the lovely faces of my stepsisters changed instantly to shock and amazement.
'This is him!?' Angeline gasped. 'My god!'
They looked at me with an almost total incredulity, struck dumb by the power of my terrible transformation. Then they both burst into the most vicious and prolonged laughter, laughter that the other women quickly and very willingly contributed to.
My stepmother was obviously fascinated by the other sissies, and Ms Stroheim was quick to introduce them once the initial laughter had died down.
'Upon graduation, the sissy is surrendered into the hands of the female guardian. Normally this is a mother or wife. She is given complete freedom with regard to the final appearance of her sissy. The sissy is her property and she can do what she wishes with it. Most mothers derive very great satisfaction from "customising" their sissy slaves. We have the facility to provide any costume required and, although expensive, we can also undertake a wide range of further surgical procedures. We will guarantee large, utterly realistic breasts, facial amendments and vocal adjustments. Anything else is additional and at your discretion.'
As my stepsisters moved closer to me, as they began to run their long, elegant hands over my expertly feminised form and make teasing baby sounds, I tried to concentrate on Ms Stroheim's awful and terrifying words.
'Both Bonny and Lulu are good examples of the potential offered by customization. Bonny underwent full sex change soon after her graduation. Her mother was particularly keen for her to be fully transformed, as was her new boyfriend, a much younger man. Bonny has been used mainly as a sex slave by the boyfriend, and as a fully trained domestic by her mother. All our sissies are trained to give full sexual service to women and men, so Bonny was well-prepared for her demanding duties with the boyfriend. She has also been fitted with vibrators in her new sex and in her anus. Modern surgery allows us to make the new vagina particularly responsive to sexual stimulation. This, plus the continuing and constant injection of the sex enhancement drug via the Recycler, bring Bonny non-stop sexual stimulation at a very high and arousing level.'
I stared at Bonny in horror and with a helpless sexual fascination. She was utterly gorgeous and her own eyes betrayed a dreadful sexual need whose root was the utterly addictive sex drug flooding her body every second of the day!
'Lulu is a less extreme example of customizat
ion. Her sex remains intact and on permanent display. She is the property of an aunt. Indeed, Lulu was sent to us by her mother and then sold to her half-sister. The aunt finds the male sex both attractive and useful, and Lulu is required to satisfy her every physical need. Given this, we were happy to undertake penis enlargement surgery and to increase breast size by two grades beyond the standard forty inch chest guaranteed. She has also had significant vocal enhancement rather than the vocal chord suppression at Bonny and many of the other sissies have been subject to.'
'Vocal chord suppression?'
My mother's question inspires an even greater horror.
'During the training period, the sissies are permanently dummy gagged. Most guardians have no use for a sissy's voice and allow us, as a free extra, to chemically treat the vocal chords so that they no longer function. This is a permanent treatment and is a lot cheaper than some kind of surgical intervention.'
I looked at Bonny and felt a terrible sympathy mix with desire and dark, bottomless fear. She returned my stare, her large, doe eyes filled with angry need and a terrible, terror-laced despair.
'I haven't decided about her voice or her cock yet.'
My stepmother's words inspired more silent screams of outrage. My wide, always girlish eyes pleaded silently and her cruel smile widened.
'I think we'll lose the voice, but I'd rather keep the cock for a few months at least.'
As tears of true horror poured from my eyes, the laughter of my stepsisters filled the small, elegant room.
'You won't need his silly little dick, mummy,' Anita snapped. 'Chop it off!'
My stepmother smiled indulgently as the girls' laughter increased. This outburst was quickly stifled by Ms Stroheim.
'It is time for her to be put in the Nursery.'
Silken Tales Page 21
