Little Girl Dresses and Tight Curly Tresses

by Sissy Gray

 

Dear Sissy Times,

I am writing this letter at the request of my current benefactors. First off allow me to introduce myself for you're reading public. My name is Greg Roberts and by nature I have always been the rugged athletic type, a macho jock in every regards of the word. My nickname among my kick boxing buddies is Logan, an appellation they gave me in connection with my shock of shoulder length thick wavy hair and my trademark coarse heavy sideburns, which tapering to a sharp point at the break of my jawbone, left me looking like the fictional character Wolverine. Recently however I have come under the cultured guidance of a couple of refined gentlemen by the names of Tom and Brian. A situation that started off innocently enough for a callous obdurate man such as I was, but which quickly brought about an evolution in my persona which defoliated my manhood, like the gossamer wings of a moth fluttering over an open flame.

I had first met Tom and Brian when the softball team I captained competed against the all-gay team they were members of in a charity tournament. The lackluster athletic abilities they displayed only reaffirmed my then mistaken notion that all members of the third sex were by nature girlishly weak and limp wristed in anything masculine. Afterwards, to my everlasting chagrin, I had made no bones about expressing these views in light of the game's outcome, a thorough trouncing of their team, thanks in part to my own two homerun performance. Unbeknownst to me however several of the young ladies I attempted to dazzle with my wit were in fact employees of the hair salon which Tom owned and where Brian also worked. Under the clipped smiles, which crossed their pretty faces seethed a righteous indignation at my denigration of their boss. A fact further exacerbated by my snickering putdown of the whole worthiness of making a living at what I classified as being the frivolous masturbating of little old lady's hair. Little did I realize how the terms 'little old lady hair' and 'masturbating' would come back to haunt me.

It was with this background, a week later, that I was surprised to receive an invitation in the mail to try out gratis the new men's spa service being offered at Tom's New Look. With my typical macho smirk I decided to take them up on it, figuring it might be an opportunity to have a few laughs at their expense, as well as a chance to meet a few of the hot babes I heard worked there. In was in this vein that I headed out to the dirge of my machismo not knowing the gilded gelding path that had been set before me.

As I entered the front door of the distinguished looking establishment I was a little set back to find out that I was the only one on the mailing list who had taken up their introductory offer. Not surprising considering it was in reality a list of one. This was quickly filed to the back of my thought process however when I saw the two lovely stylists awaiting inside. My hormones kicking in kept me oblivious to the fact that these were the same two sexy babes I had tried fruitlessly to hit on after last week's game while I exposed my virulent nature with my homophobic diatribe. The two little pretties quickly put me at ease with a glass full of a fruity potable, which seemed pleasantly potent. It sweet flavor hid the fact that not only was it strong in alcoholic content but that it was spiked with a mixture of the date rape drugs GHB/liquid ecstasy and rohypnol, administered by the cold hearts of the revenge minded woman. The drugs combined with the alcohol were geared toward leaving the imbiber weak and groggy, memory impaired but sexually excited. Within moments I was lethargic putty in their hands as lascivious thoughts populated my mind and engorged my penis with a turgidness which left me thinking with the head of my cock and not my usual crafty Scottish mind.

I found myself totally complacent as I allowed them free reign, first as they removed my coat and tie in the name of comfort, to be quickly followed by my classic brown wingtips and sleek Armani business suit. Although the only one present attired in their skivvies, I was still at ease even when they rolled off my socks, leaving me in just my tented boxers. As the one named Mary Beth kneaded my taut shoulders, the other one named Cindy started massaging my hairy calves. The double teamed muscle manipulation soon had me lulled into an eye drooping slumberous state. Visions of sexual escapades involving the two women played across my eyelids as I dozed peacefully. As I reposed in my somnolent condition I failed to notice the subtle change in the texture of the hands or the strength behind them, as first those at my upper back and then those at my knees, momentarily shifted out of place. It wasn't until those on my knees moved up my thighs and grabbed onto the legs of my under shorts and began pulling down with an insistent tug that my eyes flickered open while my lips broke into a sly grin of anticipation. My pleased demeanor quickly changed to one of panic and trepidation however as the sight of Brian's leering face greeted me. My anxiety level rose through the roof when moments later, feeling a strong pair of hands lifting up under my shoulder's in an effort to facilitate the redheads de-panting endeavor, I was once again surprised, this time by seeing Tom's grinning visage in place of the expected Cindy. The fear tickling my spine turned to a torrent of terror as I realized the total helplessness of my drug-weakened condition. What could these pansies want with a real man like me.

A redundant question considering my now naked condition.

"Well-well Mr. Roberts, I'm so happy to see you've come to us to help you round off those butch corners of your macho façade," Tom intoned as he continued to lift up on my armpits. At the same time Brian lifted up on my knees, as the two surprisingly strong men carried me over to a bubbling hot tub in the corner of the spa. The aroma coming up on the wafting steam was almost nauseating in its sweetness as they lowered me into the watery froth. As they settled me to the bottom it was only the depth of the tub itself that kept me above water as my arms hung limply by my side. The bubbles popping around my chin had a tingling effect, which I could feel being replicated all over my shuddering body.

While Tom stood by grinning copiously Brian flitted his fingers through my hair like a flirting coquette as a precursor of washing my locks with a shampoo which was as sugary smelling as the sitz bath in which I reposed. Wrapping my soaked hair in a terry cloth towel he next rolled over a portable table loaded with bottles of various colored nail polish. My confused mind watched as he proceeded to open one whose top showed the bright hue of its contents. Gingerly lifting up on one arm, he first filed each nail to a curved roundness as a precursor to painting each one a glistening pale pink. I tried to grunt my disapproval but all that escaped my lips was a listless sigh. Going around the tub he followed the first hand with its adjacent foot, followed in turn by the second foot and then the left hand. After each one was blown dry he made sure the limb was replaced to its submerged position. At the same time Tom covered my face with a mud like substance which I could feel slowly harden to a firming mask. Having closed my eyes to protect them, I was soon left blinded by the drying film.

My mind could only guess at the lost track of time but eventually I could feel myself once more being lifted by two pair of hands. This time my warmed fanny was shocked by the sudden cold of the tiled floor it was kissed by. A shock, which rippled my whole body as the frigid waters flowing from the unseen showerhead above, washed over me. As the water slowly warmed, two probing hands washing over my entire body in a sluicing manner, joined its gentle flow. Feeling the helping hands bringing me to unsure feet, wobbling on trembling legs, I could feel the water start to cleanse my face and clear my eyes. As one pair of hands steadied me, a second continued rubbing down my body, showing no modesty as they first spread my anal cheeks and then fingered around my balls and cock, which was still rigid from the drugs coercing my prostate. As I blinked through the mist in my eyes, I let out the first sound I had made since entering the salon, a mixed moan of fear and shock as I watched the rich manly mane, which had covered my body in a soft pubescence down, flow with the water down my legs, swirling around the drain by my feet. As the pile grew courtesy of the depilatories in the bath water my anguished sob increased in volume, although I was still unable to get my throat muscles to form the words of my discontent. My whole body, which tingled like it was on fire, was a soft pink glow, which matched the hue of my wiggling toenails. As the last of my body hair bid adieu the two young men helped me stumble from the shower to the disconcerting sound of their raucous guffaws. They demonstrated no regard for my masculinity as they pushed and pulled me to and fro as they towel dried me. All the time my macho anger burned brighter I hopelessly receded further into a state of helplessness which left me feeling frail and weak. As waves of shame washed over me, the humiliation I felt raised a specter of doubt as to my much-vaunted manhood and my supposed physical prowess.

Joined by Mary Beth and Cindy, the two men produced a quartette of oversized powder puffs, with which the four stylists proceeded to buffet my depilated hair shorn body to a silky smooth luster, with a sweet smelling talc. To my consummate chagrin as my helpless shame caused my machismo to shrink their soft patty-cakes to my butt and balls caused my manhood to swell all the more. Leading me on tiptoes over to the styling area via a controlling grip on each elbow they brought me to a halt next to one of the chairs as they positioned me before a floor length mirror. As I gazed in continued shock at my denuded form the two men each raised an arm up over my head. Catching a blur of pink from the corner of my eye, my vision was once more temporarily hindered as a swathe of silk and lace rolled down the length of my arms and over my head thanks to the helpful machinations of a smirking Cindy. As it started to tumble down my body I began to tremble uncontrollably as I caught sight of what it was. First the thin spaghetti straps caught on my shoulders followed by the sheer bodice clinging to my chest. Their tickling grasp was nothing however compared to the perfusion of layer upon layer of frilly chiffon material exploding around my crotch and ass as the skirts of the princess style petticoat swished around my midsection coming to a swaying halt high on my quivering smooth thighs. My masculinity was appalled at the effeminate look it gave to my reflected image, which brought to question all the more the apparent bouncing excitement of my stiff wand, as a drop of pre-seminal fluid oozed from its bobbing tip. 'Why was my body betraying me!'

My mind racing pell-mell flashed back to when a preadolescent Greg Roberts, almost too pretty for a boy, had experimented with his sister assistance in donning one of his mother's old dresses. While that had been innocent fun however this was both frightening and yet …exciting? No I assured myself it must be the drugs undermining my manhood. I told myself with a confidence born of arrogance that once the drugs wore off not only would I throw off their attempt at humiliation but that I would show them the kind of pain a real man could inflict.

Before sitting me down in the chair Tom checked for any stray body hairs. He seemed to take special glee out of shifting my swollen penis all around by it's head, while examining my tight hairless balls. With a helpful push from Tom I took my seat only to have Mary Beth slide a pair of loose silky pink panties, dripping with ribbons and lace, up my legs as they floundered up into the air. Unable to resist I watched one shaking foot after another snake into their beckoning embrace. Mary Beth teasingly floated them up my trembling legs before letting them snap around my hips, with a mocking cheer which set them a swim around my newly sissified smooth crotch and ass, instantly causing my manhood to swell even further, a masculine expression of my burgeoning effeminate state of mind. She took extra care fluffing them in place, enjoying the complete control she exuded over my helpless condition. In the dark recesses of my brain my receding macho id screamed hell no, but the bobbing head of my panty painting penis had a mind of it's own as it drooled an emphatic yes..yes..Yes! Video camera in hand I saw Cindy filming, as she captured the whole process, including my soft sobbing moans and my silly smile of pleasure as my spasmodic penis started bobbing the panties outward.

Spotting my rising, of the nylon panty banner up my hairless flagpole, Tom sneered his apparent disdain and glowing revenge filled pleasure at my pantywaist reaction.

"Isn't that sweet. Our macho jock kick boxer is all girlishly excited about wearing pretty pink panties. I've seen how you swagger in your kilt and dagger while playing the bagpipes. Now we'll see how you fare in panties and slip as you blow a horn of a different type. Let's see how you like what's coming next you sad excuse of a man!"

Seeing the raising defiance in my hot tempered eyes the equally rambunctious hairdresser with the decidedly stronger upper hand for the nonce decided to establish early who was in charge. Sitting down in the next chair over Tom pulled me helplessly across his lap as he prepared to reinforce my intended feminizing subjugation. While Brian held my arms Tom proceeded to punish my panty swaddled bottom with a large wooden hairbrush. Soon my depilatory smooth legs were kicking in the air, as my eyes were weeping in girlish like helplessness, as my fanny turned a bright red that glowed through the pale pink nylon.

"You may think your quite the man's man Greg Roberts with your athletic prowess and macho bravado but by the time we're finished with you you'll mince and curtsey for every man you meet."

Not until his arm tired did Tom stop, but even then to my macho chagrin I continued to sob. It was a spanking the likes of which I hadn't endured since my childhood and like those earlier chastisements I was more cowed by the humiliation then the pain, as it left me feeling weak and helpless before this suddenly superior seeming man. Slapping my fanny, with several finishing harsh blows, in anticipation of things to come, Tom pushed my reddened rear end back down in my chair with a sneer of contempt, while at the same time causing a sibilant swishing sound as the diaphanous material danced all around me.

As my feet settled down onto the crossbar of the chair I watched helplessly as my wrists were Velcro'd in place to it's arms. Like bees around a pot of honey four sets of hands began fluttering around my face blocking my vision, although truth be told it was more the tears of shame which blinded me. Even without being able to see, I could tell my humiliation was still ascending from the feel of their manipulations.

While a razor scrapped at my cheeks and something moist was run over my lips I felt my hair being tightly twirled followed by pinching pricks to my scalp. In addition I could feel something quite warm and sticky being painted at the nadir of my eyebrows. Moments later a ripping sound followed by sharp needles of pain over my right eye caused it to water all the more. I arched up in the chair only to be brought back down in a flutter of silk, which emitted a sibilant frou-frou sound, as my fetters held me in place. When a second such sensation tore at the other side of my face I heard a strange girlish scream in my ears and darkness grip my vision as I passed out. My state of unconsciousness was no blessing however as strange nightmares crowded my mind with visions of me running in the outfield for a fly ball in a swishing slip, while under its sheer see through material tented panties could be clearly seen.

When I returned to the here and now my nightmares became reality as I saw my panty-gloved penis rising like a flagpole through the mound of silk skirted out about me. Looking up I saw I was back to the mirror and there was an acrid odor in my flaring nostrils. Another mirror across the room, at an odd angle to my chair, yielded a partial view of the including what appeared to be the top of my head covered with a net of some sort, through which I could barely make out what looked like small yellow rods. At the same time I noticed this I began to realize a slight burning sensation on my scalp. Disjointed yet feeling a return somewhat of my strength I tried to move in the chair with the thought of freeing myself and kicking some ass.

While I was able to squirm about enough to move slightly from side to side, all I really accomplished was a shifting of my skirted bottom inside the panties draping my privates, which strangely caused my penis to bob all the more in their silken hold. At the same time the friction rekindled the burning fires of my earlier chastisement changing my macho thoughts of revenge to more reserved ones of making good my escape. As the psychological scars at being treated like a little girl with skirts raised while being panty spanked pulled on the brake cord of my macho trolley I determined nancy discretion might be the better part of manly valor. All for naught however as I heard a sinister chuckle while a hand spun my prison chair around so that I faced neither mirror. Coming around to face me was Tom outfitted with a stylist's cape and sadistic smile whom, as I cleared my throat, I was prepared to give a scathing piece of my mind. As if in anticipation of just such event I watched as he grabbed my neck, thus forcing my moist feeling lips to open wide, in which he inserted the soft rubbery penis shaped object I had glimpsed in his hand. Once again I found my intended objections muted this time by my forced fellatio of a faux manhood. It was only then that I noticed the open box whose side proclaimed 'Super-Hold Toni Permanent' sitting on the workstation. Seeing it, as another wave of harsh odor washed over me, I was brought back to my childhood and the memories of my six-year-old sister getting a home processing which left her looking 'adorably curly'! Now tears of fear joined the tears of irritation as remembering my apparent yellow crown, I noticed with renewed terror, the tray table's contents and that all the rods next to the open box were both yellow, short and exceedingly thin.

Seeing the glint of shamed recognition in my eyes Tom gleefully stated, "Oh yes. You're current waves are too manly. When I get through with you there will be no masking your tight prissy curls or your evident pansy nature. I don't believe I've ever used so many rods on one head of hair. No gel will ever be able to hide your new nancy hairdo. In addition I've added some color applicator which will both lighten and highlight that natural drab mousy brown you had. When we're through you won't be bragging anymore about your vain macho image as you shall be a frock and panty clad emasculated little sissy who looks more like a six-year old school girl then a rough tough jock."

Seeing my face run the gamete from shock to anger to fear then onto tearing shame, the effervescent hairstylist, full of his own flippant humor, snickered as he continued with a sarcastic flick of the head of my raised penis, as it still waved like a puppy dogs tail through the fluffy folds of my petticoat entrapment. A motion that elicited an embarrassing languishing moan from my pursed lips at my inability to maintain any masculine decorum.

"Then again maybe this is just what the doctor ordered as you seem to be enjoying your new found visage. Why this could be the 'new you' as my business slogan goes. You're very own little girl persona to explore each day.

Morning, noon and night. Rain or shine. Work or play. Although you may find these little quirks will limit your career options.

My only response were the muffled sobs which whimpered from my dildo gagged mouth as my fruitless endeavors to free myself only served to evidence my apparent weak willed inability to exert my flagging macho bravado. My spirits were starting to join my appearance as I began to feel completely emasculated. I could only shutter anew at the imagined image of me flitting about the office regaled like a little miss.

As I sat envisioning my lush hair wrapped in tight spirals about pencil like little rods in such a tight manner as to cling to my scalp, Tom joked about what an endless mass of curl upon curl my sissy-do would be as he checked and retwisted several spots on my crown. All the while the only thing I could do was squirm as the fire on my bottom was soon reflected by the heat of my humiliated red face. While Tom had wrapped some cotton around my hairline, his leaving me sitting up straight, with my pin curl crested head soaked in solution, caused gravity to take its toll. In no time flat I felt streams of solution running down all sides of my head. The ones down my back sent chills up my spine while those down my face sent burning fumes up my nose. Leaving me to smell the roses of my affected nature the stylist just grinned sardonically as his whistled while he worked.

While the perm did it's unseen job of creating a prissy, little girl hairstyle, I could feel Tom start to cut the longer hair, which he had left hanging over the ears and down my back, into a short, close to the scalp pixie coiffure. I still could not see any of his handiwork although my mind's eye was working overtime. I shuddered at the thought of what tonsorial splendor this maniacal barber was crafting. As I felt large lengths of my hip locks tickling my ears and neck on their way to sliding off my back and shoulders, I knew my new hair style would not be in keeping with my previous natural rugged look. On the contrary, visions of looking like a nerdish schoolboy crossed my mind. Later in hindsight I would wish I had been so lucky.

After finishing his coiffure I heard Tom walk away in the opposite direction leaving me to agonize over my state of affairs. About twenty minutes later I felt unseen hands remove the plastic cap and check several spots, to which a whispered voice snickered, "Oh Yea!" leaving me cringing a sniveling 'Oh No!'

Two sets of hands lifted me chair and all over to the sink where my hair was thoroughly rinsed and blotted. After that my hair was again soaked, this time with a neutralizing solution, but only after several slightly loose curler rods were twisted tighter. Replacing the rainbow colored cap a timer was set. This time the two men did not retire to the other room but chatted over a beer as though I was not even there or worse yet a ditsy broad unworthy of their masculine conversation. While I sat trussed up like some prissy schoolgirl far removed from such manly musings the two gay guys discussed their previous days game with all the bluster of a couple of real macho jocks. An emotional slap in the face that brought even more foolish girly tears of shame to my weeping eyes.

Fifteen minutes later a telltale 'bing' announced my impending unveiling. This time they unstrapped me from the chair, but not before they lashed my hands together, cupped over the swaying chiffon baby doll petticoat, tented out over the nylon covered stake of my rigid penis, which continued unabated, stoked by the sissifying panty frottage. Once again after removing the cap, my curler-covered head was thoroughly rinsed, as the rods were corkscrewed out in such a manner as to leave the curls unchanged. A light spray of neutralizing solution over the very ends guaranteed an extra hold.

After a gentle blotting Brian took my knees while Tom grabbed my elbows. Together the two men lifted me over to a short waxing table with a large cushion placed in the middle. Flipping me over they set me down in such a way that my midriff rocked over the cushion, which left my butt hanging out over one end of the table while my face looked down over the other end.

Taking a rat tail comb in one hand, while pulling his fly down with the other, releasing his rock hard penis, Tom removing the dildo gag with a pinching grasp of my cheeks warned me of the consequences of any misuse of my teeth. I gasped in enraged horror as he then inserted his engorged penis into my orifice that the dildo butt plug had prepped and started screwing my mouth while styling my tight curls into a perfect sissy-do. Lightly clasping my chiffon clad hips, Brian provided an anchor to the swaying ship my body became as Tom humped my mouth. While my macho mind raged, in this its darkest night, to my amazement my tongue, exuding a life of its own, began lapping Tom's cock like it was a prize cigar.

To my macho chagrin I demonstrated my weak willed capitulation as Brian, commencing to run his fingers over the crack of my intended satin lined anal vagina, caused me to whimper with girlish groans. As he ran his piano trained fingers up and down the keyboard of my upturned panties he elicited a moaning concerto all the while my tongue traipsed Tom's saxophone like penis.

The motion of my face being fucked set my penis rocking in it's nylon hold, which in turn being loosely grasped by the puffy petticoat, cupped in a double fisted dance around it, quickly brought me to a shuddering orgasm. As I pansy moaned my delight my soft loose panties became awash in wave after wave of effeminate seminal joy. To my ceaseless wonder it wasn't my helpless display of faggot like pleasure which bothered me but the fact that I had come so quickly, as I seemed to just love the sensation of my hairless cock and balls being fondled by silky soft girly panties.

In faux macho disgust Tom directed a waiting to please Brian, "It seems our little princess here likes displaying his manhood in true sissy fashion. I suggest you further spank his pansy ass with your hot ramrod."

Cringing at being used and violated in such a manner, nevertheless I lay helpless as I heard another zipper being lowered. Pulling down on the back waistband of my lace lined panties, Brian reached under my balls and gathered a wad of my still warm cum and coated his seven-inch stake with it. While my senses rebelled at the intended rape I knew was coming, I found my betraying fanny, to my macho chagrin, instinctively wiggling like a bitch in heat. While my brain kept shouting stop I'm a man, the rest of me seemed to be only too happy to coo like a lovebird in heat.

Not one to be subtle Brian shoved his manhood right through the sheer silk panties where they creased the crack of my quivering ass, driving his steel like rod home with one hard thrust, so that his balls slapped my ass with a kettledrum effect. In moments the two men developed a sea-saw rhythm which promptly had me rocking my sissy wand in a panty soaked melody. The cool grain of the stylists' taut leather jeans rubbing across my smooth hairless ass, as he pounded my petticoat swished sissified panty clad behind, further delineated my new position as a shamed helpless sex toy for men I once thought beneath me.

Dropping his comb Tom grasped my two curl flounced ears even as Brian's hands rubbed back and forth over my panty hugging anal globes. Muffled moans from my prick filled mouth competed with the slurping sound my tongue made lapping Tom's cock. His pre-cum seminal fluid trickled sweetly down my throat, paving the way for what I knew was to come. In the meantime Brian messaged my sticky cum back over the prostate, from which it originated, with each gasping thrust.

Quicker then my emasculated Id desired the two were nearing joint lift-off. Fortunately my own penis, once again wave dancing on a sea of soft lingerie, began misting my panties, before it finally exploded in a spray of white foam.

At the same time I felt Brian's warmth spew over my insides, I drank Tom's sweet nectar of bitter masculine revenge. After a winding down of moaning thrusts, both men collapsed backwards from me, with growls of revenge sated pleasure, even as my panty stoked caldron continued to seethe.

As they wandered off to rearrange themselves I set myself free at last, as my hands slipped their bonds, thanks to a liberal lubing by my oozing sissy wand. Shaking I stood to my feet. While my swaying petticoat, bobbing from the frilly lace shoulder straps, still gently swished with the motion, my clinging cum dripping panties were only good for a warm squishing sound. I headed for the nearest mirror although my feet seemed like lead. Before I could get a look however all four of my tormentors were back dragging me into an adjoining room sans mirrors. There once again more then one set of helping hands set about to further redefine my persona as I was prepared for a trip down the yellow brick road albeit one made of silky chiffon and gossamer lace. While one set of hands shimmied my soggy panties down my trembling hairless legs another pair divested me of my lingerie as tingling jolts of static electricity danced from the mound of curls bobbing on my head at its passing.

Pink and hairless, my lithe form had gone from athletic svelte to effeminate frail. I began to look around for the clothes I had come in. This was not to be however as no sooner had the symbol of my masculine shame been removed then another even more feminine ensemble was produced. It was a frilly short lemon peignoir set. Smelling of lavender I stood there with limp wrists fluttering, looking like a cheap slut in my flimsy new billowy baby-doll nightie and matching chiffon negligee, both in bright yellow. Because I have all the abilities of a second degree black belt I knew I could stop them, but to my shame and disgrace I also knew I didn't want to, as I wilted in abject surrender to my intended sissified humiliation at their hands. Instead, whimpering in effeminate delight, my fingers lightly traipsed over my chiffon covered nipples on their way to caressing the head of my silk covered penis, milking clear seminal fluid through the flouncing nylon.

After a cleansing wipe of my baby smooth pinkish crotch, visible for all to see thanks to the brevity of my pleated gown, she had me step into a loose pleated pair of lemon yellow panties which matched the peignoir set. While the two men steadied me with a forceful grip on each bent elbow Cindy rolled sheer pale yellow stockings up each satiny leg, which quivered in ecstasy. Next drawn over the stockings came the strangest garment I have ever seen. The bright yellow pantaloons were covered with row upon row of lacy ruffled ridges, which ran from my waist all the way to the bottom of the leggings, which stopped just short of my knees. Mary Beth stated these would protect my girlish virtue from my sissy-boy desires. This old fashioned accouterment added a Victorian flavor to Sissy Boy Greg, as my baby doll skirt danced coyly over their ruffled edge. I was then told there were some finishing touches needed for my ultimate prissy coiffure and to that end they had a special salon chair designed with special little girly-boys like me in mind.

Before going to it Cindy tied a wide satin sash around my waist in a huge bow in back that sat high on my pantaloon swishing bottom. The satin bodice flowing down from the puffy shoulders of the baby doll negligee to the flared waist was layered with a dew like field of pale lemon lace in the shape of frail miniature roses. Its frilly skirt was a soft silky organdie and chiffon which frothed out to the upper hem of my panties which formed increasing stratum down to where the lace cuffed edges of the billowy bloomers ended with small sissy bows, which sat on both sides, high over each knee.

Mary Beth was quite pleased with the efforts she had sewn together and was rewarded with a polite skirt grasping curtsey on my part as dictated by the controlling elbow grip of the two male stylists on each side of me and Tom's well placed foot to the back of my one knee. The disheartening element of this forced obeisance wasn't the act of fanning my skirt out in obsequious submission to a woman but the fact that my penis once more betrayed its manhood by leaping for joy at the panty swishing motion it effected.

After several spins and dress swirling turns I was lead over to a special looking styling chair in the corner. Before taking my seat Cindy told the two men to bend me forward. As my eyes dropped in my forced skirt-flipping kowtow, I saw the knife in her hand. Trying to struggle free only helped to affirm we weakened condition as once again I was rendered helpless by a couple of nancy boys. With a mischievous grin and a swiping flourish she slit through both pairs of silky bloomers swaying around my groin. I could feel a cool breeze flowing over the crack in my exposed rear end that she had afforded me. With a helping flourish of my chiffon skirts under my smooth sissy bottom the two guys helped me to my seat, while with a wicked giggle Cindy secured my limp wrists to the arms of the leather chair via some Velcro straps attached to it.

With a big smile on her face Cindy announced, "I've made some special changes to this chair just for 'girls' like you, although I have a few lady customers who have just had to try it on." That said, Mary Beth flipped a switch on the back of the chair.

I first could hear a muffled motor start up and then a soft vibration stirred the chair. I quickly realized why I once more was wearing specially altered panties, a needed courtesy for another forceful anal probe. As the sissy in me felt the first probing of moist hardness pushing at the gate of my sphincter muscle, I gushed an excited "Oh My," even as Cindy explained her creation.

"I've installed a motorized heated dildo into the base of this chair under a sliding panel in the seat."

Reaching over to flip a second switch she continued, "In addition I've added a little device, shaped like a Mississippi River boat, paddle wheel, which comes up in front between the legs."

In moments I was feeling the fanning motion of the padded paddles washing over my panty draped balls and upturned penis, while the spear shaped faux penis ran in and out of my fanny. Tom I was told, had even thought to add a tiny spray gun, which sent a soft mist of lubrication over the dildo's head each time it went up.

I was in instant ecstasy from the joint motions of Cindy's invention. Each in and out stroke heightened my budding girlish desires, while my love tapped balls fueled my boyish hairless penis. In less then two minutes I exploded into the pleated folds of my clinging moist panties, but my penis stayed rock hard from the continued attention. As I built to another orgasm, Mary Beth settled in to setting my hair with the smallest red rollers I had ever seen, which she fastened in a vertical instead of horizontal direction all around my crown, while around my ears and neck line and across my forehead she rolled them in the usual manner. The net result was sure to make a statement.

"Here is a raging sissy-boy. All you lovers of pantywaists with nancy-dos come and get it."

Finished wrapping my already bobbing mass of prissy curls on the top of my head into an even tighter roll Mary Beth begin to trim my bouffant sides into an even more boyish looking coiffure. Bringing them in tightly to the point of even leaving a narrow white wall over each ear while drawing the back into a tight V at the base of the neck, she quickly reduced me from any semblance of possibly being conceived as a true girl to an obvious little school boy appearance, albeit a very sissified effeminate one.

I could tell that I was going to look all the more sissy boyish with each passing moment but I didn't care. Any reason they could find to keep me in the chair was okay with me. Mary Beth could turn my head into one big curl for all I cared. By the time the beautician was done I was working on my fourth orgasm yet my cock maintained its priapism. My panties were soaked in warm semen, which was seeping down over my smooth balls and out onto my quivering thighs. Gasping with each twist and paddle, I was in sissy nirvana. At the same time my pansy wand dripped sissy spew my tongue drooled deliriously over my pink tainted lips. I was in pansy nirvana although a certain macho Greg Roberts kept nagging in the back of my mind how frightfully unmanly and degrading this all was. A fact apparently appreciated by the two gay men who were laughing their heads off at my gyrations. But my machismo to the contrary my new effeminate persona gushed its delight out loud in a humiliating high pitched girlish squeal.

"Oh Mary Beth, curl my sissy hair. Please make me into the cutest pansy in town. Oh thank you one and all for making me a prissy little girl. Oh how I just love being a weak helpless pantywaist in little girl frocks. I never want to be a man again. I just want a real man who'll one day make me his little dolly."

"I LOVE BEING A BOY BEING A

GIRL BEING A SISSY LIKE ME!"

The last line was sung out as I sprayed my final gob of cum into my clinging panties. I started to sob even loader, not from exhaustion, but because Mary Beth turned the chair off when she finished setting my hair. As they moved me under a dryer I happened to look up. It was only then that I noticed the Internet video camera trained on the chair. I knew many people had been watching but I didn't care. As I climbed from the chair on weak knees I turned to my tormentors flushed with the latest evolution in my persona, yet anxious to show my gratitude. The four stylists on the other hand showed no remorse for the emotional rape of my male psyche, but instead, as I dropped a free will skirt grasping curtsey to the group, burst into laughter in my humiliated redden face.

Tom then announced for the group that it was time to get me dressed for my official unveiling, as the guests would soon be arriving. The realization that others could and yes, would see me in my metamorphosed state, brought about a desire to run for the hills. Unfortunately while my heart moved into my throat and my stomach turned over, my trembling legs refused to move, although the feminine side of my persona did send a twinge of delight so that the head of my penis bobbed out the front of my panties in a sassy wave. One other part of my body did move however in connection to the terror felt by my macho man persona and that was my kidneys, as a yellow stream of fear fraught piss drizzled out from my already soggy panties in a humiliating display of pansy weakness. As I wept a river of tears down my face I piddled a puddle of pee in a pitapat at my feet that laid to waste any lingering priapic pretension of manliness on my part. The sound of sobbing and splashing was slowly drowned out however by the mocking insults heaped upon me by the domineering foursome. Not only was the rolling video catching my whole plight but also some quick grasped flash cameras guaranteed some personal mementos for my fashion consultants. Even after the flow had ebbed, for several minutes more the drip, drip, drip of urine from my panties at my evident lack of masculine maturity, rang hollow in my ears. Pulling himself together, wiping tears of scoffing scorn from his eyes, Tom continued.

"I believe it would be best if we kept our remiss little miss here from seeing anything more until we deem him ready. It would appear he has no control over either his emotions or his functions."

With that he pulled out a black silky scarf which he tied around my eyes. Finally showing some overdue manly willfulness I reached up to remove it, only to have one unseen hand smack my ass with a stinging retort, which I knew left a red hand print, while another cupped my taut hairless balls in a sharp slapping motion which buckled my knees into yet another curtsey. From that moment on I remained helplessly docile as I acquiesced to their every desire. Once again I became the recipient of a bevy of assisting hands as I moved further into a sexual frontier my macho psyche would have disdained to explore as my manhood was subdued on the silk and satin road to enforced daintiness. In the past such training might be referred to as petticoat discipline but in today's parlance this punishment was simply spiteful revenge with a dash of sadistic degradation. My previous feminine attire was removed but any hope on my part of a return to masculine haberdashery was a foolish vain fantasy. While I couldn't see, I could both feel and hear, yes even smell, that my every single accouterment was frilly, fluffy, flouncy, yes oh so feminine in the ultimate extreme. As Tom finally announced that it appeared they were set, there was one last flurry of skirt and hair fluffing. With a last second tying of something on my waist above my breeze blown butt I was sent off in a controlled mince, gratis of two more helping hands via a precipitate patty-cake to my quivering fanny. As we came to a halt I felt the blinder removed from my face and as my eyes blinked in the sudden light I knew my moment had come, having glanced the floor length looking glass before me.

At last I was free to check out the mirror. Looking back was the ultimate sissy boy!

The shock, which spread through my body, was mimicked by the twin thin arches over my eyes and defined by the perfect O my pink lipped mouth formed as I moaned in terror. Legs, covered in pink thigh top stockings, shook in weak fear and anger, as I teetered on feet shod in little pink tulip shaped anklets, fringed with lace flowers and gloved by pink patent leather Mary Janes. The puffy short sleeves of the pink chiffon baby doll party dress made my hairless arms look frail, while the soft layers of petticoats, aroused by my heaving sobs, caused the frock's hem to dance high on my thighs. As the slightly darker pink of the silk petticoats bobbed my skirts up and down, the rough and tumble jock inside me cringed at the feel of the slip's straps pulling the satiny bodice over my rosy depilatory sensitive nipples. My light pink, oversized panties ballooned outward from the swelling thrust of my drug prompted, enflamed penis. A situation only embarrassingly intensified by the inexplicable pleasure I was feeling from the extra soft wafting nylon of the lingerie caressing my smooth emasculated balls as it frottaged my cock to a tautness I had never felt before.

The cocky brash macho stud who had swaggered in, felt

shy and effeminate as the forced petticoating, courtesy of

the Tom's New Look staff, chipped away at the facade of

my manhood,

I had always been a master at getting into girl's finery but never actually in them since my youth. To my shock I realized I was being stimulated, not only physically, but also emotionally by the frilliness of the soft accoutrements hugging my emasculated body. To my shame I saw the look of recognition at my panty stimulated pleasure in the two girls eyes. The sparkle in my eyes, betrayed the macho castrating excitement I found in my feminizing lingerie, which brought a sadistic smile to my tormentors faces as they snickered and pointed at my thrilled panty ballooned condition.

The coup-de-grace however came when my eyes settled on the pink beribboned curlicue festoon that was my hair. Sleek, dark and wavy, shoulder length hair, which had been the envy of all the guys and brought smiles of desire to the ladies eyes, was now an exploding pot of highlighted ringlets, which looked well suited for a Victorian era, Little Lord Sissy. The bobbed bangle of bangs bounced in time to my quivering whimpering pink tinted lips. Mounds of curls, which abruptly tapered to the short, above the ears, cut of a prepubescent British school boy, were accented by the playful emerald colored pussycats which dangled and pranced from each ear.

My thick flowing dark hair was replaced with a bouquet of soft tight auburn curls, with raspberry and faint pink highlights, which shimmered and bounced over my ears and formed a flouncing wispy fringe of ringlets dancing high on my forehead. The net results, while quite highly feminine, looked more sissified then girlish. It was a hairdo worthy of a limp wrist fairy.

The compressed mass of exploding tiny curls, providing a pitiful plethora of prepubescent pantywaist propriety, presented a simpering satiating sissified similitude for a silhouette. There would be no confusing anything stylish or even feminine about the coiffure. The only words that came to mind were 'TOTALLY SISSIFIED'. It was a hair-do designed exclusively for a pansy, which would by nature demand sissy sartorial splendor accompanied by a mincing, swishing, limp wrist sashay.

My shame filled groans turned all the deeper when I realized that my sleek masculine sideburns were also gone. Running down the sides of my face, tapering to a sharp point at the edge of my jaw, they're unique shape and style were my personal trademark, which attracted both men and women to my rugged macho mystic. In their place wispy little girlish spit curls which formed nancy curlicues, where they floated out of my pansy pot of prissy curls, which bobbed effeminately over my ears and fringed my now feminized face, declared my helpless sissified emasculation.

One of my favorite pictures of myself was the image of me flying across the baseball field with my long hair flowing in the breeze. I now cringed in anticipated humiliation at the mocking snickers my bobbing pot of sissy looking curls would be sure to elicit.

I had gone from swaggering jock to swishing fop on the turn of little red and yellow permanent rollers and while my manly indignation flared somewhere in the recesses of my swirling mind I heard a weak willed little voice happily whimper 'Oh I'm pretty'!

Gone was any last vestige of my masculinity. No one would ever mistake the person in the mirror for anything other then a weak kneed pantywaist, whose only value could be found in being the simpering submissive and subservient, sissy boy plaything of a real man. Tears of shame and disgrace streamed down my crimson plucked effeminate face as I realized that my still excited hairless sissy wand indicated that somehow I actually enjoyed this situation. Terror gripped my thoughts at the notion that I myself might forever keep me panty clad at someone else's disposal. My macho mind cringed as it realized that my panty-plied penis had become the control stick for my heart of hearts.

In addition I became suddenly aware of the pungent aroma of my permed hair. What I could not understand was why my penis seemed to spasm at each billowing wave of its fragrance. It was a smell that seemed to leave me both stimulated and humiliated all at the same time. It brought cold tears to my eyes but a sticky warmth to my panty covered groin. All I could do was sway and helplessly cry at my lost manhood. Short gasping breathes turned to one long piercing wail as the new Greg cried out in humiliated horror his first words.

"Why Oh Why…Oh my God Why?…What have you done to ME!?! I…I'm a sissy looking…Freak! Oh please let this be a bad dream! That can't be me!?!"

As my blinking lush eyes bounced my ultra thin brows up and down, the large pink bow on my head shimmied on a roller coaster of perfectly rolled curls. My macho mind fought for its sanity as the effeminate caricature before me brought its petite looking hands up to his face. Covered by the tightest sheer pink silk gloves, the hand gestures provided an image of a pert nineteen fifties grade B horror film heroine. All of this hit me even while my drug charged privates were mockingly betraying my dwindling masculinity with a joyful romp in their pink panty prison.

The heightened heaves of my girlish sobs only exacerbated the actions of my bobbing pink chiffon skirts, which in turn stirred the swishing action of my swaying petticoats over my nylon covered bottom. This in turn increased the ego castrating feminine hold my drug excited penis surrendered to its pretty pink panty prison. Unable to control myself, I swayed enraptured in sissified joy with limp wrist hands clasping the folds of my dress, bobbing in a continuous curtsey like motion, as my panty gloved penis thrust through a sea of silk.

With each debasing curtsey my emasculation was again renewed. It was like being castrated over and over but the fear filled shame never ended. Each time I dropped the knee the loose silk of my panties cutting across my hairless scrotum was like a psychological scalpel slicing off both my balls and my manhood. All the while my panty gloved penis waved up and down in ever increasing machismo crushing effeminate joy.

My attention was arrested by a sudden snickering sound behind me echoed by several others. As my four tormentors were clearly visible around me it was terrifyingly evident that there were additional people in the room. Looking deeper into the mirror I saw a small crowd, all male and all laughing. I wanted nothing more then to sink through the floor or fly through the ceiling. Instead I stood rooted to the spot once more locked in the controlling elbow embrace of the two male stylists. As Cindy turned the lights up I saw that everyone there was a former acquaintance. Some were baseball teammates and kick boxing buddies, others were business associates while a few were other less manly men whom I had regrettably chosen to ridicule and mock in the near past. Standing front and center were Roger a nd Mike a couple of natural acting men I had once befriended in business but then snubbed when I discovered their relationship. Their amused visage at my apparent lack of machismo spoke volumes about the spiteful thoughts they entertained. Next to them was a fey dandy looking man named Dan whose open gay, nay femmy, demeanor had earned him not only my verbal abuse but the lose of his job.

Worse of all however was the montage of faces, exhibiting shame and contempt, of those who had counted me friend and compadre. Among them to my uttermost consternation was my boss Mr. Fields. I could only watch in humiliation as they pointed out my every effeminate effected nuance and the affection I appeared to have for them. To make matters worse the gang of four decided to entertain the troupe with another display of my hapless lack of sexual control as my panty plied penis continued its prurient priapism putting to lie my past pretensions of priapic virility.

While the two men maintained their pinching hold on my suddenly helpless feeling and girlish looking upper arms Cindy instructed me to pull out on the lacy hem of my frock and hold them there as if an intended conciliatory curtsey was forthcoming. When I indicated my intended refusal with a sullen look and a crunching of my skirts to my thighs she gave imperative to her demand via the lightning quick repartee motion of the dust wand she had procured to my swollen balls, which had pushed out their panty pocket below the frilly border of my swirling petticoat. All in one motion my hands shot forth, my skirts flared out like a fan, my knees curtsey dipped in pain and a stimulated moan passed my pink lips. Seeing the extended effect her punitive action affected set the seeds for a new plan in the young woman's mind. When a second such drum beat to my groin, which peeked from the folds of my frock, elicited a repeat performance, this time accompanied by a confirming lick of my lips by my lapping tongue, the strumpet revised her intended plan.

"Well Miss Roberts it would appear you enjoy a little rough trade. Let's see what happens when I turn up the beat."

With a dramatic flair Cindy did her best orchestra conductor imitation as she flayed her arm in a dancing circle punctuating each beat of her composition with a sharp upwards slap on my panty drum skin. As their timing increased, my moans ascended in a crescendo of sissy joy, while my bobbing knees kept the beat with the sibilant frou-frou sound they produced from my swishing and swaying chiffon skirts.

Totally helpless, my crushed macho stud ego watched in the mirror through tears of joy/tears of shame in abject humiliation, as Cindy conducted my emasculating symphony. Painting the edges of its glass canvas was an array of snickering faces, each of which mocked my previous allegations of masculinity, as I pirouetted up and down in a lascivious ballet. All the while Mary Beth filmed my duel effeminized image as it erupted with gasping girlish moans. Like a parody of some bizarre sexual farce, I thrust back and forth for the camera's eye, as without warning hot gobs of milky cum shot through my caressing nylon panties, loosely tented over my jutting erection. Like evil spirits cast out by a shaman's magic staff my sissy wand spewed out the pronounced gooey white confession of my preeminent profligate pansy persona.

"OH, ohhh… I can't help it" I cried as a stream of cream spurted through the moist nylon and splattered on my pink Mary Janes. Shuddering in both joy and humiliation I moaned helplessly as one hand dropping its hem reached up and playfully puffed up a mound of bobbing curls with a self satisfied smile.

With a gleam of revenge filled joy Cindy made the observation that it would appear my previous comments about masturbation and little old lady hair had in reality been the verbalization of a hidden fantasy based on my current situation of cum spewing while fingering my tight curly coif. I cried all the more for my wayward manhood as I realized all my previous macho bragging had been rent and laid to rest at my sissy shoed feet belied by my pantywaist performance.

As the two men released their hold I fell into a chiffon puddle at their feet. Like Mary Pickford sprawled out on the flow of ice, my macho mind beseeched some heart-warming help, but the only response was the bone chilling cold of the crowds mocking laughter about me. Brought back to my feet so as not to miss one sneering smile or insulting glance I was led through the skirt fluffing, fanny groping, panty patting crowd, out to the main foyer where Tom assured the crowd there would be another floor show to entertain them while they indulged in some cheese and wine.

Once there, while the others supped and sipped on their appetizers, I was prepped to be basted as their viewing entrée. While the others watched I stood helplessly by, as without regard for propriety or my pride, my skirts were raised and my panties lowered. Before the gathered crowd my exposed crotch was washed and powdered allowing each and everyone an unobstructed view of my shorn emasculated privates. As if to demonstrate my willing compliance to this affront my Benedict Arnold of a penis once more rallied my pansy flagpole as it raised up through the lacy froth of my petticoats. As a chilling indicator of what was to come my soggy panties were then drawn back up my quivering legs which trembled with self-righteous indignation but not before a slit was made in them at the point where the crack of my ass would reside.

Tom, making a pretense of seeking any assistants to help with the next section of the day's activities, was greeted by Dandy Dan stepping forth from the crowd like a hesitant volunteer. Truth be told it had been preordained that this was to be the dawning of his revenge at the setting of the sun on my macho empire.

Making a pretentious showing of shocked surprise followed by feigned indignation the revenge seeking nancified effeminate put on an air of macho bravado himself as he greeted me with a lewd groping in faux disgust of my panty sheathed moist pansy privates accompanied by ribald comments questioning my very manhood. His sharp grasp of my sensitive testicles as he mockingly fondled my manly panties brought a whimper to my lips as I half fainted to my knees.

"Oh my! What have we here," he sputtered through a rip-snorting guffaw. "Well if it isn't the self-righteous ladies man, macho Greg Roberts! The same Greg Roberts who told me there was no place in the business world for fairies and women unless it was under the boss's desk. The same Greg Roberts who said all gays were weak willed sissies. The same Greg Roberts, who said all faggots were poor workers because they had limp wrists, wore panties and got excited about anything in pants. The same Greg Roberts who fired me because I wasn't man enough for the job."

With each statement Dan's ire grew hotter and his face got redder. While still holding my quivering chin with his left hand he punctuated each of his statements with a sharp pinch of my already rosy sissy cheeks with his flitting right hand.

"Well I guess based on the fact that you are wearing panties, (accompanied by a slap to my rear) have a limp wrist (followed by a swat to my fawning upturned hand) and are all excited about servicing a man (punctuated by a well placed foot to my panty shrouded erect penile exclamation point) you must be a weak willed sissy faggot yourself who is hungry for anything in pants! Well there isn't a desk for you to climb under but for now you can think of me as your macho boss and suck my cock!"

With that, before I could even move a muscle, I found my head held firm by two handfuls of taut curls. Not even bothering to remove his aqua dungarees Dan just lowered his fly and flopped out his manhood. While the dark man was effeminate in speech, fashion attire and all his mannerisms, his manhood could have doubled for the prow of a large ship as it was both long and wide and rock hard as an oak beam. As I tried to pronounce my dissent my voice was silenced by a mouthful of rigid cock. In mere moments Danny boy was slowly pumping his ten inch cock back and forth over my wagging tongue and down my gulping deep throat, causing my bangle of prissy pink hued curls to bounce about in a sporadic dance.

As I slurped and gurgled with a vim and vigor, which belied my earlier macho rebuttals, Dan passed judgement on my new looks.

"I must say your choice in evening wear is a little much, even for a sissy princess, but I must admit, that while I had been envious of your long sleek hair and stylish sideburns, that pot of sissy curls looks really good with your baby doll party dress and the rest of your prissy ensemble. You'll make the perfect little darling for some horny sugar daddy."

Mary Beth stepping out from behind the video camera she had set on automatic gleefully clapped her hands in joy at my oral subjugation. This in turn brought about a standing ovation from the rest of the audience.

"I'm so glad you got this chance for some good old fashioned comeuppance," she gloated to this newest member of the 'Screw Greg Roberts' fan club.

Through clenched teeth Dan expressed his gratitude. "It certainly is a pleasure to put my cock where this arrogant bastards mouth is. I only wish I could fuck him the way he screwed me."

Cindy seeing an opportunity for everyone to double their pleasure replied. "If it would please you feel free to use this Little Miss Prissy in anyway you see fit so you may appreciate his full nancy-boy emancipation."

Already knowing Cindy's intention I tried to shout my objections but all that came out was a muffled murmur, which sounded like an excited affirmation. A response, which was echoed by my further groaning as Dan's rocking motion set off my hairless volcano, inside my pink chiffon petticoat swished panty, capped mountain, causing me to boil over with a river of sissy spew.

"See" Mary Beth exuded. "Greg agrees with the retribution due you and he has even provided you with a panty load of his own sissy juices to use, so not only can you fuck him but you can make him fuck himself."

Unable to contain himself Dan exploded in his former boss's throat as his huge balls bitch slapped my sissy painted lips while his semen white washed my previous dirty vulgar mouth. Even as he continued to hump my prissy face he turned my pansy gaze upward with a harsh tug on my curl framed ears. My poodle-like nancy-do bobbing up and down gave my sissified visage a silly cupie doll appearance.

Looking me square in the eyes Dan made me an offer I couldn't refuse. My macho mouth had written a check that my pansy ass would now have to cash.

"Oh yes I'm truly going to give you your cumuppance Gre g Roberts. Now that I've had one orgasm I'll be able to ride the caboose of your pansy train for a long time. How long will depend on you. Once I start you will extol your sissy virtues to the camera and all your friends. When I think you have adequately expressed what a sad little pantywaist you really are, then and only then, will I tell you that you may beg me to fuck your faggy hairless ass to completion."

Asked if I understood these instructions I could only nod my affirmation as my bobbing head exacerbated the swelling of Danny's engorged cock to the point it gagged my throat and brought sissified tears of humiliation streaming down my puffy pink cheeks. I was left holding Dan's ball bag with my chin and laundering his flaccid penis in the cuckolds of my mouth while his taunting continued as he played with my pot of tight curls. Each one was plucked with a quick sharp pull which left the curl springing from my stinging scalp.

"Oh my-my," Danny jeered. "Such a precious pot of prissy curls for such a macho cock sucking pansy. I didn't think anything could look more effeminate then a dress wearing sissy but this nancy-do takes the cake."

Greg Roberts longed to jump up and show his true manhood but my ascending dominant pansy persona was quite happy performing fellatio on my newest hairdresser.

As Dan finally pulled out from my quivering pink tainted lips and moved around behind me I got a panoramic view of what was before me. To my left Mary Beth was once again doing her Cecil B. DeMille imitation, filming my demise while to my right Cindy settled for still shots on her 35MM to add to her scrapbook 'Sissy Boy Greg Roberts and His Pansy Panties of Macho Doom'. In the meantime Tom and Brian reposed in each others arms on a divan to the side watched intently as my fellatio paid credence to their manhood at the expense of my own.

It was looking forward however that I saw my true audience. Twelve of my closest 'friends' sprawled out on various chairs, drinking wine and eating snacks I was paying for with my reputed manhood. It was veritable coup detat of Greg's macho kingdom by all those I once considered lowly peons. Behind them was a giant wall sized mirror installed for primping intentions, now slated to be a backdrop for their home movie and a silent reflection of my humiliating subjugation to come.

In this looking glass of shame I could not only see my nancified image in my short flouncy pale pink chiffon baby doll party frock, replete with its sassy sissy bow and ruffled rumba panties but my prissy pot of tight dime sized permanent curls bobbing over my high arched plucked eyebrows and my moist pink lips glossed to a shimmering sheen by my semen laced spittle.

Looking beyond I could see Danny preparing for his anal assault as he first swished my petticoats up over my back and then lowering the rear of my sodden panties he reached in and scooped out a wad of my own pansy gism to coat his resurrected erection still hanging through his pants.

Once again as Greg Roberts I found myself begging for assistance even as my own penis, belying my denials, pushed out the front of my still clinging soft moist panties in response to the fluttering motion of my chiffon slips over my smooth girlish posterior as Dan rustled them out of his way. Looking out to my former peers turned jury for my sissy trial by emasculating silky petticoat discipline, the macho man in me pleaded his case.

"Oh surely you must help me. I'm not the pantywaist looking sissy you see before you. I'm a man's man! You must release me from this shameful degradation. You must return me to my rightful place as your macho captain. Do not let these spiteful women and this perverted pansy cock sucking faggot ruin my superior masculine standing I implore you!"

Seeing that the rationale of my beseeching words were falling on deaf ears I once again resorted to the ranting and ravings which had earned me their besmirchment in the first place. Words that only fueled the fires of their revenge minded intent.

"How dare you ignore me you insolent bastards. Don't you know who I am. I'm Greg Roberts, suave macho stud about town. I helped make most of you losers and I can break you also. Set me free this instance and I'll show you a real man in action as I liberate these bitch hairdressers with my manhood and I kick the crap out of this limp wrist pansy fruitcake."

I would have continued working myself up into a fine dither but a sharp lashing of my exposed helpless lassie behind by Dan's thick leather belt brought me to a screeching halt as the words caught in my phallic molded O shaped fellating mouth. The thrashing of my humiliated deflowered behind set the lace butterflies on my little girl panties darting to and fro on the stamen of my budding pinkish hued sissy wand.

"Lets get one thing straight. You are no real man. The sooner you realize no woman wants you and no man needs you, the sooner you can settle into your true nature, that of a cock sucking pansy whose sole purpose in life will be to service others. Your days of pseudo macho bravado are over while a lifetime of simpering sissy servitude awaits. I was hoping to help you list your pansy proficiencies and sissy assets by way of my penis probing proctologic procedure but first I guess I'm going to have to flagellate those morose mundane malevolent machismo machinations from your soon to be ditsy effeminate felicitous psyche."

With that Dan proceeded to give Greg Roberts the second major spanking of his day. As a lithe former jock I would have quickly skirted away but for the helping hands of two of the onlookers. Held helpless all I could do was kick my nancy feet and cry buckets of warm salty tears. In no time at all my tough guy persona was reduced to a sobbing emasculated shell of my former self. Gone forever would be any semblance of macho resistance broken on a rack lined with satin panties and chiffon petticoats. I knew from this day forward I would have no choice but to cringe in helpless obedient obsequiousness at the mere mention of anal chastisement, so severe was the flogging. It was only exceeded by the mental stripes of having my manhood flayed before all these other guys.

Words failed my flagellated feisty fairy mind, frenzied in my femininely frilly frock as I endured his harsh corporal punishment, although the emotional castration that accompanied it was far worse. I could only retreat into the security that in the future I would find a loving man to pamper my panty-clad bottom. All the time low guttural moans or high-pitched shrieks gurgled from my semen-coated throat. Finally unable to help myself I denied my manhood with words of effeminate capitulation married to thoughts of what a loser I was.

"Oh please Dan that's enough. I just can't take anymore roughness. I'm really a weak helpless pansy who needs your masculine attention. Please stop spanking my sissy ass and use it for your manly needs instead. Show me the true meaning of a macho man as you plow my hairless vulva vortex. Please skewer me on that hot rod of yours and turn my prostate into a prostrate pansy clitoris! Please just fuck me like the curly headed prissy pantywaist I truly am."

As the Greg in me returned to a babbling litany of shamed emasculated groans and weak effeminate moans Dan pulled back his arm of reprisal and once again positioned himself to rapaciously plunder my now cherry red ravenous pansy mound of delight, while the other two guys helping him settled back down to their cheese and wine to watch the show.

Dan was in no selfish hurry to finish his night of domination and humiliation but instead further demonstrated his manly control over my budding effeminate psyche. Taking two handfuls of my prissy petticoats he lightly swished them back and forth across my sensitive sissy seat. At first I just moaned my pansy delight but soon I was waving my hot butt in the air seeking both more rustling chiffon and some hard male flesh to cool my girlish fervor.

From behind her camera Mary Beth mockingly smiled as she recognized the sensuous ardor in my weak willed response as I turned from macho wannabe to nympho harlot vixen.

Like a damsel in distress dangled over a cliff I found my demure exposed bottom positioned to be defiled as I made ready for my pansy debutante ball.

Dan opted for the not so subtle approach when he decided it was payback time. Grabbing me by my chiffon swathed hips he located the head of his thick ten inch penis at the crack of my butt. Then with a smile of sadistic delight he rammed his cock home all in one huge thrust, not stopping until his large balls buffeted my highly sensitive red ass. At the moment of entry he leaned forward and whispered through the sissy curlicues bobbing around my right ear, "It's Show Time!"

Before Dan could settle back into place I let out a roar of anguished pain and helpless emasculated shame, while at the same time my eyes rolled back in my head from the crowning pleasure that throbbed to the head of my panty sheathed penis from the sudden burst of pressure on my enflamed prostate gland. In self defense I quickly started to rock my body in time to Danny's stimulated humping action so that the two of us moved as one. As my loud groans turned to muffled moans turned to breathless sobs of humiliation and soft whimpers of sensual delight I started my own panty sheathed penis stroked humping of my pleated chiffon petticoat filled baby doll party dress. While my pansy ass wiggled back and forth my prissy satin bow metronome kept measured time as it rode the waves of my sissy pot of little girl dime sized tight permanent curls which swayed around my pierced elfin ears and bobbed high on my forehead accenting my thin arched eyebrows.

From years of butt fucking sissy guys, Jimmy could tell I was bunny humping down the path to another pansy orgasm. Reaching into his tight jeans he pulled out a small bag of salt which he rubbed into my anal welts, with a painful disdain, effectively quelling for the nonce my randy panty manipulation of my sissy wand.

"Your forgetting our deal," Dan chided me as he bucked like a bronco in heat.

"You don't get your pansy ass pleasured until I say so and that isn't happening until you convince all of us here you really are Miss Roberts and that Greg the macho king is dead."

As Greg Roberts, who had only desired to end this evening before it started and avert any semblance of sissy sex, I now found myself enraptured with the thought of getting pansy fucked in petticoats and panties while hoping the morning would never come. As Dan resumed his quest to slay Greg's macho demons the chiffon-skirted little girl in me prepared to redefine my views on just what makes a man.

As Danny once again began pleasuring himself at my helpless expense, penetrating my pansy posterior, the jury looked on with bated expectation awaiting my bully denying sissy plea bargain.

My ditzy feminized persona didn't know where to begin but businessman Greg Roberts remembered to always start at the bottom and work up. In this case pumping my bottom to work Danny up.

"Oh Danny thank you for showing me the joy of sissy sex! As a macho brute I only thought with my cock and felt for myself. You have shown me true pleasure is only to be found in servicing others as a nancified pansy."

"As such, one of my most sensual self abasing thrills is when I curtsey to yet another genuine man and I see the image of my tented loose silky panties, which are cloaked in the cloud of my multi tiered chiffon petticoats, reflected in my sassy patent leather Mary Janes, knowing that they will soon be filled with his hot manhood. When he looks down at me with his mocking masculine sneer, the lace of the tulip cuffs on my dainty anklets send tickling whispers of submission up my quivering hairless legs!"

As my pansy lips proceeded to describe macho Greg's budding effeminate psyche to the unsympathetic audience of my former rambunctious peers Danny's rhythmic prodding of my emasculated prostate sent tingling shock waves through my testicles turning my usually deep masculine voice into a whimpering falsetto lisp. Reaching back on bended knees the sissy in me grasped two limp handfuls of baby doll pleats to emphasize my next nancified point. Pulling up and out on my chiffon hem in a feigned curtsey I further revealed for all to see the lace butterflies floating about on my pink hued panty glade.

"I almost shamelessly swoon with delight each time I clutch the outer hem of my swirling fluffy petticoats and swish them over my gossamer panties rustling my pretties around my smooth ass and shaved scrotum while frottaging my rigid pansy wand! With each such impassioned curtsey I am reminded of my burning desire to be subjugated to performing fellatio on other men as I love the sight of my pink lipstick on the head of their hard cocks!"

To help me illustrate his point Danny stood me up while I was still impaled, riding on his engorged shaft. Still clinging to the pleated folds of my petticoat filled baby doll party dress I played 'Ride a Cock Horse to Sissy Boy Nirvana' as I pogo stick curtsied up and down on Dan's turgid tool effectively fucking myself. Looking over the crowd to my reflected anal impalement, while seeing the bobbing satin bow on top of my nancy-do, I went on curtseying with one frock grasping hand while fluffing my soft prissy curls with the other. All the while Danny's thrusting rod set the fluffy ridges of lace on my silky loose panties to fingering the bottom edge of my redden pansy behind.

"I'm so glad I've been submissively sissified as I just love my pot of school girl curls. My heart just melts for joy at having this permanent so that I can have this bouffant of tight tiny bouncy curls. I should be shamed when the sides were cut into a tapered childish school boy look with slight whitewalls over my pierced ears but I love the humiliation of everyone knowing I'm just a big sissy-boy with wispy curlicues for sideburns and prissy ringlets for bangs jiggling high on my forehead. I'm such a pantywaist that I even get an erection at the aroma of perm solution. I know when I am forced to mince around in public with this head full of pink and strawberry curls which compliment my pink panties with their weeping yellow pee drops of fear and shame that I will just ooze sissy spew everywhere I go!"

Seeing the look of ridicule and scorn on the faces of my ex-compatriots at my socially castrating self abasement and watching it being filmed for posterity out of my peripheral vision I should have been petrified with fear but even though my chin quivered and my shaved legs shook with goosebumps as tears of shame flowed down my painted cheeks I could not stop myself from swishing up and down on Danny's enflamed penis. As my smooth ass now slapped Danny's swollen balls it became all to apparent to both us men who was now in charge as I reached my true pansy potential. I didn't have to request it, for with each labored breath I encouraged Danny's continued fornication, although the younger man couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. Dan was ready to explode but it was I who now controlled the ass pounding. I was now deemed sissy enough to be fucked!

In an effort to facilitate my rectal vortex Dan swished the prissy chiffon petticoats around my panty clad hairless crotch like a whirling dervish. As my ecstasy rose my curl patting hand dropped to grab my throbbing panty gloved penis through the soft swathe of my chiffon pettislips. Looking past the leering men before me I focused on my curtseying reflection. Coming up on my Mary Jane shoed toes before each downward plie I would pirouette to and fro exacerbating the swish of my skirts while my trembling hand softly stroked my panty draped wanker making a sibilant frou-frou sound.

As my bucking buttocks sapped the man juices from Dan's Vesuvius, my own erection exploded in a pitter-patter shower of semen drops through my rosy hued panties and onto the toes of my patent leather little girl pumps as my hand lithely traipsed over my chiffon hugging rod effectively chipping the macho veneer façade of manhood away from my true sissified feminine nature. All the time I sang out my decadent castrate effeminate surrender.

"Oh yes Danny screw my pansy ass. Please make me your sycophant sissy sex slave. Show everyone here your manhood and my emasculated femininity. Fill my petticoat swished bottom with your hard cock and hot juices. Pound my sissified butt through the soft folds of my nancy baby doll dress. Oh Please! Please...set my pot of sissy curls dancing and my panty clad hairless penis prancing!"

Looking out into my detractors sneering faces my new found feminine persona masturbated himself while curtseying up and down and swishing side to side in my sissy little girl ensemble.

The motion made my pot of poodle curls shake.

My quivering chin caused my teeth to rattle.

While from my weeping eyes hot tears did roll.

All to the rowdy mocking taunts and ribald jibes of:

"Don't do this Greg! Your a Man's Man!"

"Oh no! You must return as our macho captain!"

"Our team hero is no cock sucking pansy!"

"That can't be our macho stud. Only fairies

wear silky panties and have limp wrists!"

"This can't be. Macho Greg Roberts is no pantywaist sissy!"

To which Miss Roberts lisped out Greg's macho dirge denouement:

"Let everyone know near and far that Greg Roberts is an emasculated panty loving petticoat swishing hairless effeminate pansy who loves pretty little girl party dresses and tight bouncy permanent curly tresses."

I AM A SISSY!!!

Falling to the floor in one final helpless cum spraying debilitating curtsey, my soggy panties squishing around my denuded hairless crotch while my short swaying skirts swished over my semen covered prissy shoes, I brought Danny to his knees and the audience to it's feet in a cacophony of mocking cheers and demeaning jeers. But all I could hear was the pounding of my sated sissified heart through the cloud of gossamer chiffon encircling my new effeminate image. I had gone from macho persona non grata to a prettified piece de resistance!

It suddenly dawned on me as I watched Dan swagger off, that in the short period of time I had been under the stylist's 'tutelage' my Greg Robert's personality had metamorphosed from a macho loutish bore to a powder puff pansy due to my panty fetish. While as Greg I couldn't wait for a good blow job, the pantywaist in me hungered for another opportunity to fellate a real man while panty stroking my own hairless sissy wand. This thought caused the remnant of the macho man in me to become nauseous with shame while the pansy in me swooned in ecstasy!

Sobbing over my lost manhood, I knew I was destined to be a helpless pantywaist sissy in tight permed curls forever. It wasn't just that all the guys now knew the real Greg Roberts. It was that Greg now knew what he really was. I realized the only thing I loved more then my hairless penis and smooth balls being in silky panties was another guy's hard penis being in my pantied ass. As I lay in a silken puddle on the floor, I knew what I would have to do.

Walking out into the sun a new day had dawned in my life. My Armani suit and silk tie left behind, a donation for some real man. In their place I was outfitted in an outfit contiguous with my new attitude and my new job. It seemed Mr. Fields determined he would not be needing my continued services, as I no longer filled his picture of an assertive aggressive businessman. In light of my new softer qualifications however he did hire me back as his personal secretary, albeit at a reduced rate of pay. I was after all just another ditzy woman and this was a macho man's world.

Once again I found myself pretty in pink, although in a more subdued attire befitting my new station in life. My hairless form shivered with delight at the flimsy satin and lace camisole that caressed my nipples along with the double layer of loose drapy pleated tap panties which swished around my smooth sissy crotch like a pair of warm loving hands. The cute lace butterflies on the straps of the camisole clearly shown through the shear georgette material of pale pink blouse with it's slight tucks at the top of the bodice which formed narrow panels of rippling pleats down the front. The puffy capped short sleeves which pinched in high on the biceps bordered with a fine filigree of dainty lace shown off my suddenly frail wispy looking hairless arms. It's tiny pink pearl fasteners buttoned up the back right up under the narrow round schoolgirl collar from which exploded a bright pink thin silk scarf which tied into a wide bow tie which flopped oh so femininely under my quivering chin. The flouncy loose fitting satiny culottes made of soft draping polyester kissed the top of my knees in a wide legged swish as they shimmied up and down my smooth legs thanks to the tautness of the matching button-on suspenders. The depths of it's gathered pleats gave it a very distinct skirtlike look as it flared out in a gentle sway with each cultured mincing step I took in my pale pink and white patent leather saddle shoes. There glossy shine drew the eye to their kicky pink and white barber pole looking shoe laces which gave a finishing touch to the distinctively schoolgirl motif. This was accented by the silky pink ankle socks with their tulip shaped cuffs fanning out on stiff lace, embroidered with flitting bright pink butterflies. These left a wide expanse from my calves to my knees of smooth creamy looking skin with a very feminine curve where the shapely upper calf broke back in toward the knee. My Charlie perfume and stick of glossy pale pink lip stick were stored in the bright pink patent leather hand bag slung over my shoulder as it hung from it's stylishly thin strap. To ward off the cool gentle breeze which wafted up the wide legs of my short pantaloons, stirring the silky grasp of my pretty panties as they danced around my smooth balls and excited sissy wand, a puffy pink angora sweater was draped over my trembling shoulders held in place by one pearl drop button at the neck from which my puffy pink schoolgirl bow tie spilled out like a billowy cloud.

I was allowed to keep my precious little girl party ensemble however for when my many new gay friends or those so-so macho straight ones came a calling, as it hung in the garment bag I carried in my one limp wrist as I minced down Main Street singing my new theme song.

Boys in pretty party dresses with wide satin sashes, Puffy panties that dance when I'm getting my lashes. Shimmering pink petticoats that swish when I fling, These are a few of my frilly prissy effeminate things.

Lacey drops of sissy dew in my soft panty mittens, Tight curly permed tresses top off my little girl fixins. Short fluffy frocks which sway out when I swing, These are the reasons I'm a sweet nancified thing.

While mincing along in a prissy little swish I learned one of the joys most women and every little sissy just loves to do. That is the fine art of window shopping. I already was drooling over all the fashion ideas I would need, yes love to purchase, knowing that the majority of the contents of my closets and drawers would be following my suit and wingtips to the local Good Will store.

As I sauntered along many a town folk noticing the new girl in town just as quickly noticed the new Greg Roberts and gave me the varied welcome my past considerations for them deserved. Some were cheerfully sarcastic and some were down right insulting while others bordered on the personal as they took liberties with my skirted ass in their mocking greetings. All in all I knew my future would be filled with many sissified misadventures to come.

Before leaving the shop that day I confirmed what the others desired as I indicated my continued self-induced feminine subjugation by making an appointment the following month for another punishment perm and sassy haircut, although I just knew I would be back for a weekly trim in Cindy's delightful automated station. Macho Greg and his manly locks were history as there was a new sissy in town. One who just loved little girl dresses and tight curly tresses.

  

  

  

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