Crystal's StorySite

My Uncle Wally’s Boy Wife         by: Miss Deborah (Debi) Leigh Johnson



I did not know what I could expect, as the Greyhound pulled into the bus station. I did not know a whole lot in fact, as I was a rebellious know it all, fifteen year old brat.

My parents were pretty good as far as parents went. I had not locked a roof over my head, or enough food on the table, but I had always resented the fact that my parents were not rich enough to give me everything that I wanted. I knew in the back of my mind that this was a pretty immature attitude, but what the hell, it was the way I felt. I also did not hesitate to let my parents know how I felt, after all, it was their fault, right? I did not ask to be born into such a poor home. If they had really wanted kids, they should have waited till they had a lot more money for them, before they had any kids.

At fifteen, I had reached my last straw, though I was too thick headed to know it. Last week, the school I had been attending finally gave up on me. I was not a really bad kid, it was just that I was always getting caught at some stupid prank or another. They had expelled me, and told my parents that I was not welcome back.

That was it.

My mom cried all night. My dad threatened to beat the shit out of me. I decided that I did not have to put up with it, so I just left the house. I was gone for two days. When I got hungry enough, I went home.

I went home to a very solemn home indeed.

Mom and dad just looked sadly at me. They told me that they had come to the conclusion, that because of the way that I treated them, that I must really hate them. I told them that it was stupid to say that, but they just sadly looked at me, and told me that this is what they believed.

They apologised for being the kind of parents that had produced a kid like me. They told me that in a last ditch effort to try and make something good of my life, they had asked my mom’s brother in California if he would be willing to take me in. Uncle Wally had said yes, on the proviso that they would not criticise him for anything that he may do to try and redeem me.

It was up to me. If I did not want to go, I could leave the house right then, and it would be over. I would be welcomed back, if and when I could show that I was endeavouring to make something positive with my life.

The idea of being able to live in California was intoxicating. I did not need to think about it. I knew already that if I was kicked out of the house, that I could not make it on my own. I had nearly starved in the last two days. I figured that no matter what this uncle that I had never met might want to try, it would be easier to live on the streets in California than it was to try it where I was.

I agreed to go.

The next morning, my mom packed my bags for me, gave me $40.00 for spending money on the way, and she said good bye to me, wishing me the very best. She did not try to make me promise anything stupid, like to obey my uncle or something like that. I figured I was finally getting out of prison, a prison not of my own making.

The trip took two days and two nights. When we finally pulled into the bus station, I was so exhausted from trying to sleep on the bus, that I had difficulty in keeping my eyes open.

My first impression of my uncle was that he was stocky, maybe around 5’8" or 5’9" tall. He looked like he could take care of himself. He was in his late forties. He towered over my 5’ 3 " 148 lbs. frame. I figured that until I could figure the angles, that I had best try to get along with him, and his rules.

I did not even notice that he did not pick up my luggage, as he greeted me, and led me out to his convertible. It was not a muscle car, but it was a nice looking blue convertible, with white plush seats. It looked kind of new, but maybe he just took good care of it.

On the way home, he told me that my mom was really worried about me. He told me that they had a number of telephonic conversations, and that between my mom and dad, and him, that they had concluded that what I needed in my life was a paradyne shift.

The unfamiliar term perked me up, as far as it could, considering how tired I was. I asked him what he meant.

He smiled at me.

"Well, you see that big store over there? Well, suppose that you was born in that building. Suppose that as you grew up, that you gradually explored that whole store, learning every department that is in it. That store is your whole life to that point in time. Everything you know is based on your experience in that store. Everything you understand is based on the things that you have learned in that store.

Then one day, you accidentally find the front door. Suddenly, as you go through that door, you realise that your entire understanding of the world, which was all focused around the inside of that store, has to be re-evaluated, because you have discovered a world that is beyond anything that you had ever encountered before. You will have to relearn everything. You would have to learn to appreciate and understand things now from an entirely new perspective.

Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yeah... I guess? What does that have to do with me.?"

"Well, the paradyne that you have lived in up till today is what has moulded and contributed to your character and personality. We all know that it is not the best of results. That is sort of like growing up in that store that we were talking about. What you need is a paradyne shift. In other words, you need to go through a door, and enter a different world, in order to grow up and get on with your life. There is far more to life that you think that there is."

"I think I understand?"

"Good. As of today, consider yourself as standing out in the parking lot. You now have a new life to live, one that will be completely different than anything that you have been used to before. Okay?"

"Sure, I am game for anything, I guess."

"Good. Here we are. This is my house."

He pulled into a three car wide driveway. There was no garage. The house looked kind of like a stucco bungalow, the kind that you might expect to see in a western movie or something. It did have a very large picture window that I liked, and I could see lots of house plants on the inside.

It still did not dawn on me, that when we left the car, my four bags of luggage were not there.

I was excited. This was not the house of a wealthy man, but it was a really nice little house. I would like living here, I was pretty sure. For the first time, I was glad that my uncle was not willing to completely give up on me, the way that every one else in my life had.

He led me into the large living room. There was a large mantle and fire place along the far wall. It looked far bigger on the inside, than it had looked from the out side. I smiled. This was more my style.

I was drained, and was only half conscious of him taking my hand, as though I was a little girl, and leading me into the kitchen. I sat on a bar stool at the island counter, and he poured me an orange juice. It was the freshest orange juice that I had ever tasted.

Then uncle Wally took my hand and led me into my new room. The fact that the room was obviously that of a teen aged girl registered on my mind, but I was too tired to ask if he had another room that I could use. I was amazed that I seemed to have suddenly lost all of my strength.

I sagged onto the bed. He smiled down at me, and he started to take all of my clothes off. He spent a bit of time looking down at me. He smiled, and he told me that I was going to make a very pretty young lady. Then he sat me up, and pulled the top half of a very soft pink night gown down over my head. I watched helplessly as he then raised up each one of my legs, and started to pull a pair of pink panties up my legs. I was astounded at how wonderfully soft they were.

I was also astounded to find that they made me feel like a girl. Worse, as my uncle pulled out the pink satin sheets, and worked my lifeless body in under them, I started to get a raging hard on. I was so ashamed, especially when he noted it, and reached down to lightly caress me through the silk panties.

He was making me feel like a sissy... And I liked the feeling. He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips, and told me that I was having a paradyne shift, and that like at that store we had talked about, I had just walked through the door and walked into the parking lot. Then he pulled the blankets up, tucking me into my new girl’s bed, kissed me again, and wished me nice dreams.

He left me to myself then. Needless to say, I was one very confused little boy. I had a night of very confused dreams as well. In most of the dreams, I was wearing pretty dresses, like a pretty girl. I even looked pretty.

Worse, in one of the dreams, near the end of the long night, I saw myself being kissed by a boy, and I liked being kissed by the boy. I could not see his face, but I suspected that he looked a lot like a younger version of my uncle.



The first thing that I became aware of was the loud songs from birds. I opened my eyes into a very brightly lit room. I glanced over to where the light came in from. It looked like the whole wall was made of glass, with sliding doors. The doors were open, and lacy curtains were flapping gracefully in the breeze that came in through the screened door.

I could smell the wonderfully aromatic fragrance of back yard flowers as they wafted into the room. I remembered all of the strange dreams, and mostly, the lingering feelings of how nice it had felt like to be a pretty girl, pursued by hot blooded young American boys.

I tried to shake off the feelings. They were not right. I was a guy.

I looked around the room. It was a girl’s room, of that there could be no doubt. The walls were a pale pink, with huge posters of girls with horses, girls in ballerina poses, and one very large one of a naked chested Fabio. The furniture was all a light off white colour, in a Spanish design. There was a long dresser with three sets of three tiers of drawers in it. Over it was a very large mirror that threw back the feminine brightness of the room against the other three walls.

I became aware that I had stiff white lave tickling my chin. I looked down. The sheets that I was lying in were pink satin. I had to admit that it had certainly been the nicest feeling sleep that I had ever experienced before. I moved my legs, and nearly swooned with the delightful sensations on my skin.

I looked around the room a bit more. Against the far wall, I could see two slightly ajar doors. One looked like it led into a bath room, while the other one looked like it led into a closet of some sort. In one corner was a large full lengthed mirror, on an ornate white frame. It looked like it also had side mirrors that could be folded out, so that the observer would be able to see herself from three perspectives all at the same time.

I stirred, forcing myself to leave the wonderfully inviting bed. When I stood up, I felt the night gown fall in a soft whisper, down to about mid thigh. It was then that I remembered seeing my uncle dress me in it. At the same time that I remembered that I was also wearing girl’s panties, I began to feel the soft material as it caressed a growing erection. This could not be right? I was not supposed to get excited by wearing girl’s clothes. I was a guy.

But I could not deny how wonderful the soft silk felt on my erection. I was not able to resist lowering my hand, and lightly caressing the front of the skirt of my night gown. It made such a soft feminine whisper as I touched it. The sound made me pull my hand back, as though I had been burned by the silky material of my night dress.

"My night dress..." Where on earth did that idea come from. I looked around for some slippers. All I found were a pair of delicate things that looked like they would break apart if anyone tried to wear them, with big fluffy puffs of pink stuff on the toes. I stepped into them. They had a one and a half inch high heel, which I found did not cause me a problem. I felt too exposed in the night gown. Looking around for something to cover it with, I found a floor length peignoir made of pink silk, laying across the foot of my bed.

Knowing that beggars could not be choosers, I picked it up, and slid the soft sensuous sleeves up over my arms. It secured in the front with three pink satin ribbons, one under my chin, one at my breasts, or where breasts would have been if I had really been a girl, and one high on the waist. I tied little bows in the ribbons, so that I would be able to untie them quickly, when the time came.

I moved away from the bed. The silky material caressed my legs as it swished lovingly around me, as I walked.

I did not want to. Gawd alone knew how much I did not want to, but I loved the way that it felt. The silky material on my legs, the panties around my hips, and the enforced mincy step of the delicate shoes I wore, all combined to make me feel girlish, and feminine. I was a boy, and I tried to put it out of my mind, but it seemed that the more I struggled with the delightful feelings of femininity, then more I liked the way it felt.

I figured that I must look a mess, so I walked over to the vanity, because I had noted that there was a brush on it. I sat on the soft satin covered seat, before I looked in the mirror. I picked up the brush. I had to look in the mirror, though I was scared of what I would see there. I did not want to see myself, dressed in such feminine finery.

I was startled at what I did see. I looked the same as I did every morning, including the mess of thick shoulder length hair that had to be brushed out, except that I had never seen myself dressed in pink before. I looked almost the same, but suddenly, I realised for the very first time in my life, that I looked like a girl.

My hand shook as I started to run the brush through my hair. I tried not to look at the girlish face, framed by the soft pink silk of my sleep wear, but it was a girl’s face now. It had never occurred to me before that I looked more like a girl than a guy. I knew that I was considered to be cute, because every girl that I knew had told me that I was really a cute guy. But no one had ever told me that I looked like a girl.

My hair was thick and shiny, and fell in large thick folds to my shoulders. I could not deny the truth of it. Seeing myself reflected in the mirror, while I was in girl’s clothes, made me realise that I did not look like the rebellious street youth that I had always thought of myself as. No... I looked like a girl. Maybe I had subconsciously always known it, and that was why I had tried to act like such a macho ass hole? I had always fought, very hard when anyone had ever called my masculinity into question.

Now, no matter what I felt about boyhood, I could not deny that I was looking at a girl.

Strangely, I became acutely aware of the softness of my clothing, and aware that only girls wore clothes like this. My cock started to stir in my panties again, not because I was turned on by being close to a pretty girl, but because I was starting to feel like a pretty girl. I wanted to cry.

I managed, by an enormous act of self strength, to pull myself together. my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had not used my mother’s $40.00 for food as she had intended, but I had wasted it away in pin ball machines. I was very hungry.

Not knowing what I should do, the odor of frying bacon permeated the room, and I nearly feinted from hunger.

I stood, gathering the peignoir about my trim little waist, I headed for the door. I hoped that my uncle would not hate me when he saw what I was wearing, but it was all his fault. I had nothing else to wear. I kind of hoped, though I hated myself for the thought, that he would think that I was pretty.

I made myself, hands trembling in nervous fear of being laughed at and rejected by my uncle, and turned the door knob. I stepped out into the hall way, and I heard the delicate click of my heels on the bare hard wood floor of the hall way. I blushed. I sounded so much like a girl. I heard the swish of my clothing, as I started to click in my mincing steps, down the hall way, not sure of where I was going, but following the enticing aroma of the bacon, now enhanced with the odor of fresh brewed coffee.

I walked along, feeling like a fish out of water. I had no knowledge of what my uncle was like. I had no idea of what was in this house that was my new home. I had no idea of how I should act, dressed up in girl’s clothes, as I was. Should I act like an ass hole, like I normally did when I was afraid and uncertain, and try to bluff my way out of it? Or, and this thought sobered me, should I act like a sissy, like a girl?

My hunger pangs would not let me withdraw back to the safety of the boudoir that I had just left. I was famished, and I felt very feint. I had not choice. I had to confront this man who had tried turning me into a girl, for who only knew what reasons that he might have.

I found myself leaving the hall way, and stepping into a wide foyer like room. On the right was the living room, and on the left was a wide arch way that led into the kitchen. I had never been scared of any thing or any one, but I felt like a weak little sissy, standing there in my sissy clothes, about to enter into the presence of the man who had so completely effeminated me.

My stomach fluttered in nervous fear. Would he hate me? How should I act. Would he expect for me to act like a girl? How could he want me to act like a boy, when he had made me dress up like this? What to hell was all that paradyne shit?

I steeled myself and walked into the brightly lit room. I recalled what the room looked like, as soon as I saw it.

He was standing, bent over the stove. I could hear the sizzling bacon. I could smell the coffee, and the toast. I noted that a wisp of smoke was starting to come from the toaster. Almost before I could even think about what I was doing, I minced over to the toaster, and popped the button up, making a loud click as the toaster yielded up its treasure.

I saw the butter and a butter knife. I wondered what he was thinking of me, as I could feel his eyes on me, as I picked up the knife and buttered the toast. I saw that there was another two slices of bread on the counter, so I put them into the slots of the toaster, then turned to face my mentor.

What I saw surprised me. I did not know what to expect, but what I saw was definitely not what I was expecting to see. Uncle Wally stood there in a relaxed pose, with a wide almost wolfish grin on his face as his eyes moved from the top of my head, very slowly down to pink puffy toes of my slippers which peeked out from under the hem of my peignoir, and moved back up.

I felt like I was being examined by a wolf, waiting to devour me. I suddenly realised that I was being looked at in exactly the same way that I had often looked at pretty girls. I had wanted to intimidate them, and make them just a wee bit afraid of me, in the mistaken belief that this would endear me to them.

Now I knew what it felt like to feel that I was being undressed by a predator. I blushed, and I reached down to pull the peignoir tighter around me, as thought the flimsy silk was able to protect me. I knew that it was a foolish thing to do, not to mention totally useless, but I did it. I also knew that I was acting just like a girl.

"Well, good morning honey. My, you look even prettier in the sun shine than you did last night when you first got here. I hope that you had a good sleep? My oh my, you are a very fine looking young lady... You really are you know?"

His words were like a two by four slamming into my forehead. So, I was not dreaming. Someone else thought that I looked like a pretty girl to. What was happening here? I was too famished though, to deal with any idea that was not directly related to getting food into my stomach. My tummy growled. "My tummy?" I did not have a tummy. Girls and little kids had tummies. What was happening to me?"

In seconds, we were seated across from each other, at the island bar, and I was soaking my toast into the bright yellow of the soft poached egg that my uncle had prepared for me. I wanted to have some of the home fries that he was piling on his plate, but he told me that girls did not eat like that, and that I would have to get used to the new rules that I would have to live by.

I said nothing, as I sated my hunger. I figured that I could bide my time, and I would be able to figure out some way of getting what I wanted. I always had before, after all.

When we were done, Wally told me to go to my shower, and he would lay out some clothes for me while I refreshed myself. I did not even wonder what he was going to lay out for me, but I went to the shower. The water was so nice as the hot drops splattered against my tense shoulder muscles.

In a few minutes, I had emerged from the shower, I had not washed my hair, as I did not want to deal with the long stuff at that point in time. I wanted to confront my uncle, and find out what the hell was going on.

I walked back into the bed room, and nearly feinted when I saw what he had laid out for me on the bed. I looked around the room, and I soon realised that the only clothes that I had that I could wear, were girl’s clothes. I knew only too well that I had to wear what was on the bed, or something that was just as feminine from the drawers or the closet. This room had nothing but feminine, and I mean feminine, girl’s clothes. Lots of girl’s clothes are not feminine. Not so with the collection of clothing that was in this room.

Resignedly, knowing that I would have to be vigilant to find a way out of this pink silk trap that I now found myself it, I sat on the bed. First to put on was a pair of nylons. The tops of the nylons were of a lacy design that covered strong elastic. I vaguely recalled that these were called stay up thigh highs. I pulled them on. I did not want to, but I could not help but to like the sensuous feeling of the soft feminine material as it clung to my still hairless legs.

The under wear was a pair of silky pink briefs. My fingers trembled as I picked up the delicate intimate girl garment, and held it up in front of me. For a moment, I did not know which was the front or the back, but I could see that the back was a bit fuller than the front. There was fancy writing across the front, so I turned them to see what it said. It said, "Debi’s Saturday Panties." I blushed. This was Saturday.

I pulled the panties on. The stiff white lace at the panty waist and the leg holes was a bit rough on my skin. There was also a bra, with small gelatine filled inserts for the cups. I sighed, knowing that if I had to wear girl’s clothes, that I had better do everything I could to look like a real girl, or I would certainly get the shit beat out of me, by guys who were just like me in attitude.

I put the bra on, and I slid the small flesh coloured pads into the lacy cups. I felt the weight they made, as I suddenly felt the unfamiliar pull of bra straps across my shoulders. Next came a soft pink tee shirt. I knew that girls did not call them tee shirts, but I did not know what it was called. I lowered it over my head, and I felt the soft cool silk caress my back. I felt like I was feeling girlhood come down over me, as the wispy garment fell to my shoulders. I looked down, and noted that the lace trim of the bodice moulded itself around my pseudo breasts, making me look just like a real girl. I blushed.

I stood up, and found that there was a half slip that matched all of the other under wear. I stepped into it and raised it up over my nyloned legs, and I nearly fell in love with they way they made me feel. They were so wonderfully soft. It was not wonder that girls loved wearing this stuff, it felt so nice on the skin.

I caught myself. I was not going to allow myself to think like that. I was not going to let myself envy the real girls for being allowed, not only allowed, but expected to wear things like this. I was a boy, no matter what I looked like in the mirror. I was a boy, no matter what my uncle had said this morning. I was a boy.

Fixing that thought firmly in my mind, I stepped into the white high heels. Again, heels were only about two inches high, so I was not going to have a lot of trouble balancing on them. I knew only too well though, that if a guy ever tried to come on to me, that I would never be able to either fight or to run away from him, not wearing these shoes.

Next on the pile of clothes was a white silk blouse. I found that the buttons caused me a wee bit of problems, till I would get used to them, and again I chided myself for that thought. I was not ever going to get used to buttoning a girl’s blouse onto me. Not ever. With that idea also fixed in my mind, I went over to the mirror, to help with buttoning up the froth of lace flounce that attached to the blouse under the lace trimmed collar. The sleeves were full, and secured by a long cuff that had three small pearl buttons on it. When they were done up, I had to admit that I loved the way the big blowsy sleeves felt when they caressed my arms with even the slightest movement of my hands. It was a very feminine garment. I could see a very faint trace of the pink lingerie through the thin delicate material of the blouse. I blushed, realising what an utterly feminine picture I must make.

I went back to the bed. I picked up the skirt, and it took me a few minutes to figure out how to put it on. It too was white. It had a wide waist band that buttoned and zippered up the back. There was also wide shoulder straps that buttoned at the front, with decorative brass buttons. I stepped into it, vowing to get even with my uncle for making me wear such pretty things. The large wide pleats flapped about my thighs, as I slid the straps over my shoulders and buttoned up the waist. I went back to see what I looked like in the virgin like white clothes.

I was astounded. I could not believe it. No matter how little makeup I was wearing, and I was wearing none at all, I looked like a shapely pretty girl. The pleats flared out from my hips, and the straps emphasised the breasts that they covered. The flounce of lace that poured out from under my chin looked so cute, and so feminine. The hem of the skirt fell to about two inches above my knees. The nylons and the heels I wore, made my legs looked like the kind of legs I dreamed of having wrapped around me.

My penis throbbed in excitement in my panties, and I was thankful that the skirt flared out so that the bulge could not be seen. I hated myself for being so turned on, because I looked so foxy. The idea that I was really a boy under the prettiness was strangely intoxicating to me. I nearly sunk to my knees, in tears, as I wondered how on earth I could so easily accept being a fag. I was dressed like a sissy girl. I looked like a sissy girl. My cock was telling me that I was really turned on by being a sissy girl.

Did my parents know what I was doing at this minute? I’d die of embarrassment if anyone ever found out about it.

It was time to set the tables right with that damn man out there, who’d turned me into such a fag. How could he have done it to me? How come I did not fight and scream about it? It seemed to me, that I was just accepting every lacy silky stitch that he was making me wear, and worst of all, I had dressed myself up like this.

I got angry at myself for so easily accepting this situation. I was not a fag. But, I felt myself moving in the panties, as I went over to sit at the vanity, and I could not deny that I had never ever been so turned on in my life. It was as though every nerve ending in my body was responding with excitement, as the girl clothes touched them.

I brushed my hair. I put the brush down, and I looked at the girl that I was seeing. I knew that with a touch of makeup that I would look really smashing. Or, even if I put on earrings..?

I wanted to cry. My hands folded in my beskirted lap, and I throbbed into the panties, against the weight of my hands. I did not want to like being a girl... But I did. I could not deny it. I could not deny that Uncle Wally had not threatened to beat the shit out of me, if I did not put on girl’s clothes. All he did was tell me that he would lay out some clothes for me, and I had willingly put them on myself.

I was a sissy.

Tears nearly blinded my eyes, and I realised that this was the way I had always been. I had been such an ass hole to my parents and to my friends, because I had wanted to keep it a secret, that I was a weak little scared sissy deep on the inside of me. I wondered how my uncle had been able to see so deeply into me, when he had not even seen me before.

I reached for a pink tissue, and dried my eyes. I felt a sense, a very deep sense of submission to the girl me that I now was. As I gave up the macho pseudo personality that I had fought so hard to build for myself, I felt a tremendous sense of relief. I no longer would have to fight all the time. I would no longer have to strain and struggle to keep myself so completely under control, all so that no one would be able to detect the sissy that was really under that hard shell of an exterior.

I accepted the fact that I wanted to be a weak little sissy girl, out of control of her emotions, subject to the strong whims of any boy that came along, too weak and afraid to live alone. I sobbed into the tissue, as this sense of freedom washed over me in great waves. I shuddered, as for the first time in my life, I let myself cry like a sissy girl. I was nothing but a weak little sissy girl now.

I could not even draw of the false strength of the false boy personality that I had built. I knew only too well that that personality was completely false now. I remembered how often I had looked at boys, and remarked to myself that I had to act that way, or to move my hands in that fashion, because that was how boys acted. My entire boyhood had been a big play act.

I was a sissy. How on earth was I ever going to learn how to live with that truth, unless... Unless I could somehow not live like a sissy, but hide it by living like a girl? Is that what my uncle was doing to me? Was he really going to give me this second chance? At least, I realised, if I lived like a girl, wearing pretty things, acting like a little miss prissy young lady, that I would be acting a lot more like the real me than that empty shell that I had thought was the real me.



I dried my tears. I felt as though I had some how become cleansed on the inside. It was the first time in my life that I had ever felt guiltless and innocent, and clean. I liked the way it felt. I was only too aware that I felt like this, because I was dressed like a pretty girl.

I knew that I had to go out and face my uncle, and find out what his plans were, and what his house rules were. I knew only too well that I no longer had what it would take, to live the life of a rebellious street urchin. I did not want to. I was too weak to do that any more. I wanted to be protected. I wanted to be taken care of. I wanted someone to love me enough, to take care of me and my needs. I hoped that Uncle Wally would not laugh when he found out what a sissy I really was, after all. I hoped he would not hate me for turning out to be such a fag.

The realisation that I was such a weakling, such a real dyed in the wool sissy, who loved wearing such pretty and feminine girl’s clothes, made me also realise that it would take a great deal more courage to be who I really was, than it ever took to be such a fake. I wondered if I had what it would take.

I sat up suddenly and stared at my reflection, with a look of horror on my face. If I let my uncle know that I was really such a sissy fag, would he think that I was completely a sissy fag? Would he think that I only liked going out with boys, like the real girls liked doing?

Worse, perish the thought, would he think that I was a sissy cock sucker who wanted boys to fuck her, like the real girls were like? Worse even than that, was the idea, that it might all be true. What if I did want to go out with boys, and act like a real girl acts? What if I liked being kissed by boys. What if I found out that I liked sucking a boy’s cock? How could I live with myself if I was really like that? How on earth could I make the adjustment from being a fucker, to being the fuckee in a relationship?

I have no idea of how long it took for all these fantastic changes to course their way through my psyche, but only too soon, I realised that I had to make my appearance to my uncle, as the girl I had become in the last few minutes of my life. All that I could hope for was that he would not hate me for turning out to be such an effeminated sissy.

I found, to my amazement, that I assumed feminine mannerisms and gestures, as thought I had been born as a girl, and had been schooled in how to comport myself. I also realised that for all of my short little life, I had always paid an unconscious attention to the way girls had acted, and I had absorbed all these observations. They had, by their own nature, suddenly incorporated themselves into my new girl personality. I was more of a girl than I had feared that I was.

I forced myself to stand up, once again admitting to myself how I loved the sound that my linger made, a very feminine sound that belonged to girls. I checked to make sure that the painful bugle in the front of my skirt was not too obvious, smoothed my skirt out around my hips and bum, and steeled myself for the worst of rejections. Then I strode, such as I could in high heels, over to the door.

Before I could have a second thought about it, I turned the knob and stepped out into the hall way. I refused to let myself think about my revelations, as I made my way through the house, searching for the uncle that had effeminated me. I had to have the courage to be the real me, for once in my life.

I finally found him, down stairs in the television room. He was sprawled out on the couch, half asleep. When he heard my heels clicking on the stairs, he sat up and turned to face me. Once again, I was blessed with that wolfish appreciation of my appearance that appeared on my face.

I moved gracefully across the room, and seated myself in an easy chair that faced him. I was only too aware that I was acting like a girl, even to the point of smoothing my skirt out as I sat, even keeping my back straight and my hands folded together in my lap, so very prissy like. I wanted to hate myself for letting him see me as such a fairy, but I could not.

The revelations about the real me that I had seen only moments before, had been to profound for me to ever try to change them. I was a guy, who wanted to be a girl in every way that I could be a girl. That was who I really was. the girl’s clothes that I wore, freed the girl’s personality that had lain dormant and suppressed for all of these years deep inside of me. She was too elated at finally being allowed out of her prison, to ever go back without a serious fight.

"So, I see the real you is finally making herself known to the world?" he was almost malicious in the glee that I heard in his voice. He had won completely, and he knew it. I had no choice, but to submit to the reality this man had forced upon me.

"So it would seem. I... I never dreamed... You know what I mean?" I heard a whiny girlishness in my voice that had never been there before.

"I know exactly what you mean, honey buns. You are so pretty, and so naturally girlish... You do not belong in pants ever again, unless of course, they are silk lounging pyjamas, like the elegant ladies wear, or perhaps some very tight fitting Chic jeans, or perhaps 501’s for girls, you know the ones with the pretty embroidery on the back pockets and those cute little zippers at the ankles?"

I could hear the victorious revelling in his voice. But, he was right... I knew that. I also knew that with this man, I would always have to assume the submissive feminine role from now on. That is who I was now. I shrugged, as I realised that I may as well get used to it, and start now. I knew that girls had always been willing to swallow their pride to make the guys in their lives feel superior. I guess that I would just have to do the same from now on.

"I... I guess that you are right? Uhhh... How did you know Uncle Wally? I mean, I did not even have any idea about this, you know what I mean?"

"Ahhh... for the astute student of human nature, it was not difficult. You were more blinded by your pseudo masculinity than any one else was. Your parents knew. Let’s face it, honey. You should have been a girl. You look like a girl, and you act like a girl, and I am sure that you now realise that you mostly feel like a girl to, and all it took was a few hours in girl’s clothes to reveal who you really are. That masculine veneer that you had, certainly was not very strong after all, if all it took was a few hours in a girl’s pretty little panties, to turn you into such a pretty girl, so completely."

"I... I don’t like being a sissy..."

"Sissy? Boys who act like girls are sissies. You are a girl who was acting like a boy, in spite of what you have in your pretty little panties. All you are doing is acting real now. I want to help you in any way that I can. If you want to really become a girl, I will help you with that to. In the mean time, you will find a large bottle of purple coloured pills in your medicine chest. Those are girl’s hormone pills. I want you to take two at a time, three times a day. Will you be a good girl, and do that?"

I felt a flush of embarrassment and dead machismo flow across my face. "Yes Uncle Wally." Even though I was being a submissive prissy by acting like this, I felt kind of free in a strange way.

"Uhhh... What happens now?"

"Well, I’ll give you a couple of weeks to get used to living here, and wearing pretty clothes all the time. I will teach you how to keep house, and how to cook passable well. By that time, you should be confident enough of your girl self to start venturing out into the real world. I gotta warn you though honey, you make a very sexy young lady, and you really turn my crank for me, so do not be too surprised if I walk up behind you some day, and start kissing you, okay?"

"Kiss... Kissing me? Uhhh... What should I do if you do that, Uncle Wally?"

"What does any girl do when a man kisses her, honey?"

"Uhhh... " I blushed furiously. "Kiss him back?"

"You got it Babe. You have to do absolutely nothing except to act like yourself. In other words, if you act just like any other girl, then you will be doing the right thing. In other words Sweet Stuff, just do what you feel is right, because from where I sit, you is all girl honey. You got it?"

"Yes Sir..."

The next few days flew by far faster than time had ever passed for me before. I got used to the idea of spending an hour or so every morning, dressing, doing my hair and experimenting with makeup. I got used to wearing delicate little heels on my shoes, and conducting myself in an acceptable manner, while wearing above the knee hems. I lost some weight. I learned that I loved doing house work, even the doing of Uncle Wally’s laundry. It made me feel some how as though I was acting like a kind of wife, when I would fold his dried under wear, and take them into his bed room, to put away for him. I ironed his clothes. I picked up after him, and I even had to start making his bed for him in the mornings.

I settled into the life of a teen aged girl, far too easily that I should have been able to do. But, by the end of the first two weeks, I knew that I never wanted to go back to being a boy. One thing that really turned my crank though, was the way that I could make my uncle react, when I flirted with him. I knew that if I did that with one of the young bucks in the neighbourhood, that I would be in serious trouble, but I loved the way he would start to sweat, or even slightly tremble when I would do something that was particularly feminine, like accidentally on purpose forget about how short my skirt was when I bent over in front of him.

I felt a strange power over my uncle, in my new found girl hood, and it was really intoxicating. After the initial couple of times, when he made me go to the malls with him, and made me buy myself some sexy lingerie, or made me try on some dresses in the girl’s clothing stores, I was forced to admit to myself that I would have to do something really stupid, to make anyone suspect that I was a guy. I was just too much of a girl.

One night near the end of that first two weeks, we were seated on the couch, watching television. He asked me how I liked being a girl. I admitted to him that I adored being a girl. I admitted that I loved being pretty. I admitted that I loved acting in a "missy prissy" way.

He smiled and told me that he was pretty sure that I would have liked it. He also told me that he was completely convinced that I was a real sissy, and that the next step in my development, was to learn how to act with boys. I was shocked. I had thought of it, of course, but I had also tried to put the thoughts out of my mind.

He saw the look on my face. He smiled.

"That settles it honey, I am certain now that you will never be happy in a relationship, unless it is with a boy, or more specifically, a man who knows how to treat you."

"Wha... What do you mean, Uncle Wally?"



"I’ll not only tell you what I mean, I will show you what I mean. Stand up, right there, in front of the television. That’s a good girl."

I did what he told me to. I was strangely shaking in excitement. An erection started to grow in my panties to. I was trembling in my submissive uncertainty.

I stood there, and I became very sensitive to what I was wearing. I had on a pale mauve coloured slip, with a set of matching panties, garter belt and a soft satin long line bra, also part of the same lingerie set. I was wearing nylons, as I had done for every day since I had started my odyssey into girl hood.

For outer wear, I was wearing a pair of pink high heeled shoes, with sling backs on them, a little bow at the back of my ankles, and with three inch spike heels. I was wearing a three piece suit that day, of which I only had two pieces on. It was a soft pink skirt, jacket and vest. I had removed the jacket to do the dishes, and had left it hanging from the back of a kitchen chair. The skirt was a short sassy pleated affair that fell two about two inches above m knees. It had a high waist the pulled in a most delightful fashion at my tummy. The vest was sleeveless, and had five brass buttons up the front. My blouse was sort of like a man’s shirt, excepting for the lace trimming at the points of the collar, the silk that had a floral design woven into to it, and the lace ascot, which flowed out from under my chin and covered some of the vest.

My uncle came over and stood in front of me, about one foot away. I became aware that I had never stood so close to a male before, especially one that was as big as my uncle. Even on my high heels, I had to look up to see into his clear eyes. He just stood there for a very long minute, making me feel very shy and submissive. After a few long moments, he spoke to me.

"Well Debi, do you feel like a real girl now?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you like feeling like a girl?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you know that this means that you are a sissy?"

"Yes sir."

Sissies are not real men, are they, Debi?"

"No sir."

"Because they are not real men, they should act like girls when they are around real men, shouldn’t they, Debi?"

"Yes sir."

Then he took a step closer to me. My eyes focused on the stubble on his chin. I could feel the heat of his body. My cockette strained against the front of my panties. His maleness excited me. I had never felt like this before.

He reached out and gently took my elbows into his hands. Slowly he raised my elbows. He raised them till he could bring my hands together. When he did that, my forearms were resting on his shoulders. I had nothing but my girl clothes to protect the front of me from anything that he might want to do to me. It made me feel so vulnerable and weak, and girlish. My cockette strained painfully against the silken prison it was in.

Then I felt his hands go down and settle on my waist. He gently pulled me towards him. I had not choice. To keep my balance, I took a half step forward. I felt his belly on mine. I felt his cock press against my belly. He was rigidly hard. I felt the pants legs material brush against my delicate nylons. It was the closest I had come to wearing pants in the last two weeks, and it made me feel terribly unworthy of being considered as a male. I was a girl now. He held me like that for a long time. I was scared, and I shook. I hated that he could turn me on like this, just by acting like a regular guy.

After a few more minutes, his hands moved from my hips, to the small of my back, then ever so slowly, they moved down over my bum cheeks. He made me feel so small, and weak, vulnerable and feminine. I looked up into his eyes.

His eyes looked down at me, and they were full of his understanding of my effeminated nature.

"You are my sissy boy girl, aren’t you, Miss Debi?"

I wanted to scream out that I was a boy, and run away. Instead, I blushed. "Yes sir."

"Sissy boy girls like you are really sexy to me, Debi. Do you get turned on by being so close to a real man, honey?"

"Ye... Yes sir..." I was nearly whimpering. I could feel my knees start to buckle, and I locked my fingers behind the back of his neck for support. I was weak enough, without having to look up at him from the floor. That would be just too embarrassing.

"Do you want me to treat you the way that I treat other women, honey?"

"Yes..." What was I saying? How come I could not say no? How come I did want to be treated like a woman?

"I let girls suck my cock, and then I put my cock in their pussies. Do you still want me to treat you like any other woman, honey?"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run away. He pulled me tight against him, and all I could feel was his hard on. My head was light. I felt so weak.

"Do you honey?"

"Yes sir..."

"So, if I told you to kneel down in front of me right at this very minute, and to suck my cock, you would be girl enough to do that for me?"

Guilt about being a by ripped through me, as I loved the silky sensations of my girl clothes, and I luxuriated in the sense of feminine submission that was washing through my emotions. I looked up at him again, knowing that my cheeks were far redder than any blush could make them.


I felt his strong big fingers tighten on my bum cheeks. I felt him press his cock against my tummy.

"Prove it."

What could I do. I knew that he wanted me to suck his cock, like any other girl would. He knew the degree of feminine humiliation that he was putting me through. I hated being a boy. I hated myself for wanting to suck his cock. I wished that life was simpler, and I did not have these sex problems.

But I let my fingers unravel, and I felt his clothes brush against me, as I weakly began to lower myself to my knees. When I felt the carpet on my nylons, I opened my eyes. His bulging crotch was right in front of me. This had to be the ultimate humiliation. I loved the sense of feminine submission that I felt as I watched my pink tipped fingers reach up and take his zipper, to pull it down. I watched as they reached into his pants, and they gently extracted his erection from his pants.

He did not have a big cock, for which I was very thankful. It was big enough to be pulsing in my hand though. I felt the iron like hardness under the satiny smooth skin. I could smell his man smell, so very unlike any smell that came from my body lately.

I looked up, and I could see the superiority in his eyes, as he looked down at his little sissy. He was a man, and he knew it. I was not, and he wanted me to know that to. "Suck my cock like a good sissy slut, Debi. Suck it really hard to let me know how much you like sucking my cock honey."

I bent down and placed my lips on the cock head. I wanted to just brush my lips over it, but I found myself kissing it. I was kissing it out of my love for this man, who was making a woman out of me. I wanted to submit to his enforced effemination of me. If that meant that I was a sissy, and a cock sucker, then so be it.

I opened my mouth and I felt the head of his cock slide slowly over my sensitive lips, as I received a cock, as a girl, for the very first time. I knew that I could experience no greater humiliation. I was a totally effeminated cock sucker, a fag. I did not want to be a fag. I knew that, and yet I locked my lips around his shaft, and I began to lick his cock. I knew that I was trying to make it cum inside of my body, and receive a man’s cum the way that women were designed to receive a man’s cum.

Girlishness washed over me. I felt utterly effeminated.

Uncle Wally let me suck his cock like that for about fifteen minutes. I moved my head back and forth slowly, as I loving licked at the shaft. I knew that I was trying to make it cum into me. This was how a girl did it, and I was being allowed to be his girl. As I sucked his cock, I knew that I was making love to this man who knew my sissy soul so completely. I wanted to show him my love and my gratitude, and so I sucked his cock with love.

"Okay honey. I want you to stop sucking my cock now. You are a lovely cock sucker, and some other time you can suck the cum out of it, but not today. Today, you are becoming a real girl, my sissy slut girl. You are my boy toy in your girl’s panties and skirt. Today, I want you to suck my cock, and make it ready for fucking your virgin pussy."

I pulled my head back, amazed that I was doing so reluctantly. Yes, I was definitely a confirmed sissy cock sucker now, I knew. I loved everything about being allowed to by my uncle’s girl.

I planted a dainty little kiss on the head of his cock, as I allowed it to be pulled out from between my lips. I felt empty with out it in me. Then, I stood up.

I knew that he could see how much that I had liked sucking him. I knew that it was written all over my face. Every time he looked at me from now on, I knew, he would think of me as his sissy girlified cock sucker. I had no more masculinity left to me, I knew.

This man had taken way my penis when he gave me skirts and panties to wear. I stood up and looked up at him as he smiled his superiority down at me. I placed my hands on his shoulders, and I stood up on my tippy toes, and I lightly kissed his lips. He knew that I was thanking him for making me realise that I was an effeminated boy slut who belonged in pretty knee length hems, and silkened panties, like a real girl does.

He grasped my hips, and turned me so that my bum was gently rubbing against his erection. I felt utterly girlish. I knew that like any other girl in a similar situation, my uncle was going to fuck me. I was a pretty girl, and a sissy cock sucker. I deserved to be on the receiving end of a rutting male’s sex drive. I was not a boy any more.

I knew what he wanted. I pressed my upper back against him, as I turned my head to receive his kisses. I felt his lips all over my cheek, my lips and my neck. His hands were tightly grasping my belly, and my breasts. I reached down and I pulled the back of my skirt and my slip up. Then I could feel the small but powerful hot rod driving into the crack of my panties.

"Man of man... You are turning into one hot little vixen bitch, aren’t you?"

For an answer, I opened my lips, and I grasped his tongue, and sucked it deeply into my mouth. I felt his one hand go down, and lower the back of my panties. I felt his erection between my bum cheeks. I was glad that he was small, and I knew that he was going to use it like a man uses it with a woman.

I melted inside. I was that woman that his cock was going to fuck tonight. I wriggled a bit, so as to help embed his cock in the crack, where it should be. I felt his one hand squeezing my breasts and his other hand went down between us, and moved his cock so that it was pointed right at my hole.

I was utterly aware of the female clothing that I was wearing. I was the femme of this couple. He wore the pants, and it was I who wore the panties. He was the man, and I was his complimenting woman.

"You sissy slut. You are a vixen. You have been teasing me with your sexy bare thighs and your pretty little pantied bum for the last few days, and now you are going to pay the price that all sissy sluts pay. I hope that you like being a girl Debi, because girls get fucked, and so are you."

With that, he rammed me. I felt a sharp pain as his cock head passed my sphincter, and then a tight feeling, as I suddenly realised that like any other girl, I had a man inside of my body. I marvelled. It was not just the cock that had entered me. I felt as though Uncle Wally had entered into my feminine personality, and that he was staking his claim as the owner of my feminine soul. He was not just fucking my body, he was taking over me, all of me.

I moaned as the feeling of utter and complete submission to this loving manly person. I felt his cock as it slowly inched it’s way, all the way into me. His tongue was in my mouth. His hand grasped my breasts. His other hand descended to grasp and grind the intimate girl material of my panties into my cockette. I was impaled on his cock.

I was utterly helpless to him. He could do what he wanted to me, and I had to accept it. I moaned out my realisation of my utter effemination, and I could not deny that this was the most completing feeling that I had ever had. I was the girl object of a man’s love, and it was who I wanted to be.

I sucked on his tongue with the same loving that I had sucked on his cock. His hand ground the panty material into me. His cock withdrew and slammed back into me. If he had not been holding me so tightly, I would have fallen on the floor. I was becoming his possession, and I felt so completely loved.

He slowly helped me sink to my knees, and then I heard him tell me to kneel doggy style, so that he could fuck me better. Oh, I wanted him to fuck me better. I wanted him to fuck me all that he wanted to fuck me. I wanted this man to cum in me, like he cums in girls. I wanted to be his girl.

I felt his hand slap my bum cheeks.

"Oh, daddy... Oh uncle... Ohhh... Yesss... Fuck me and make a woman out of me. I want to be your fuckee. I want you to fuck me whenever you want to get laid, Ohhh..."

"You fucking slut, you are just like every other sissy slut who gets her man to take possession of her, you can’t stop. You will be my sissy slut boy girl sex slave forever now, won’t you, Debi?"

"Yes daddy... Anything you say, just don’t make me ever be a boy again. This... I love this... Make love to me. Make me be your woman... Cum in me daddy..."

"I am going to fuck this tight little pussy of yours Debi, and I am going to give you my baby juice, just like any girl gets it from the man who fucks her. You are my woman, my sexy vixen woman..."

"Yes... I... I want to be your sexy woman. Give me your baby juice. Give me your cum daddy... Make me be your girl slut..."

He then drove himself deep into me. I felt his cock grow and he began to let loose his cum deep into my girlified self, and I felt like I was a woman loved by a man. I shrieked as his orgasm made me cum into his hand, through my panties. I shuddered, writhing, out of control... I was his effeminated woman.

He fucked me till he started to grow soft. Then he let go of the front of my panties. I felt utterly complete and fulfilled as I felt his cock pull slowly out of me. I stay there, weak, unable to move, on my hands and knees. I felt him pull the back of my panties up to cover my bum cheeks, and I felt him lower my skirt and slip to cover up my panties.

I was to emotionally drained to move. I was sore, and yet I felt ever so loved. I felt like a sexy love object. I felt like I’d been a woman receptacle for a man. I felt completely feminine.

I sank to my belly on the floor, and ever so slowly, I rolled over onto my back. Uncle Wally was standing there, looking down at me.

"Damn, you are the sexiest girl I have ever fucked. I put you on notice Debi. Consider yourself to my by sissy slut from now on. I will fuck you whenever the mood takes me, and you will suck my cock whenever I tell you to. What do you think about that?"

"Okay..." I could not stop the beatific smile that I knew was on my face. If that was they way he wanted me to be, that was fine with me. If he could make me feel like this by fucking me, and letting me suck his cock, the I wanted to suck his cock and get fucked ten times a day. I felt like a loved woman, and I knew there was no other feeling to compare to that.

I thought that there was no other feeling like that. I was wrong.

Two weeks late, Uncle Wally came home one day with a wedding dress for me. He told me that I was going to marry him the following Saturday. He told me that I could expect to spend half the honeymoon with my pussy filled with his cock.

I smiled. "Okay."

My uncle had saved my soul, by making me become his boy wife. I love him, and I felt wonderful as I heard the words pass my lips, "I will love you, and honour you, and obey you, till death do us part."


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