Dressed For His Girly Vacation            by Prim

Toni Flushing lowered his gaze as his tall, blonde wife came into her mother’s boudoir. That surge of shame he felt every time she saw her husband in his lingerie swept over him, crushing him down into the burgundy carpet in front of his mostly pink opened closet and chest of drawers. He knew without looking that her eyes were on his satin bra and panties, with the matching ruched suspenders woven through them to his fully fashioned stockings borrowed from his Mother-In-Law. And his shoes! He stood tall but stooped with self-consciousness on his pale blue ankle-strapped, peep-toed sandals as his knees squeezed together in a rush of sexual confusion. He saw her narrow business skirt and patent pumps come right up to him.

“So here is my little girly husband this morning,” she declared, taking each of his hands in front of him and throwing them to the sides to reveal the point in his panties. She clasped the curved knob in a chestnut glove. “It’s a pity some of us have to go out and work while others stay at home and play.” His penis grew fatter with feminine feelings as her kid fingers pulled on it in its panties. “I’m not so sure we made the right decision, mother, when the three of us agreed that we would all be females together at the Willows.”

Her mother came in from her own walk-in wardrobe and deposited a mass of white softness on the bed. “I am perfectly sure we made the right decision, Rowena,” she said, approaching the two of them. “You know how he swells with pleasure when I am dressing him, and turning him into a female.” She stood behind him to make a dozen little adjustments to his blond, shoulder-length hair. “It’s what he wants more than anything else in his life: this is his true calling, isn’t it, Toni?”

“Yes, Sybil,” came the faint reply.

“Yes, Mother-In-Law. Don’t be impertinent.”

“Yes, Mother-In-Law.”

Sybil’s lips pursed with authority. “So you want me to dress you, don’t you?”

“Yes please, Mother-In-Law.” He stole a glance at Rowena and caught her sigh of exasperation. Or was it contempt? She chucked him under the chin.

“I’m off to the office,” she said, turning to leave. “Enjoy that surrounding pull of your petticoats, Toni. I think you’ll be feeling it a lot during your little vacation.”

Her husband relaxed as the door closed. Somehow his shame was different in front of his Mother-In-Law: from feeling how deeply he had failed his wife, he would switch to constant reminders from Sybil that he was under her control and would become as effeminate as she wanted him to be, but – what was this about a little vacation?

Sybil was behind him again, passing a wide spread of white chiffon round his waist and fastening it down his ass.

“Ohhhh!” he breathed, “it’s so wi-i-ide, Mother-In-Law. Ooooh!”

Her fingers plucked and fluffed it all round so that she ended in front of his face. “You’re going to look as feminine as you feel today,” she said. “I’m taking you to see a friend of mine: she wants to see just how girly you are.”

To see a friend? That can’t be the vacation Rowena was on about, surely? Sybil returned from the bed with another chiffon petticoat, as wide as the first. It floated down on all sides, settling at a higher, more girlish depth. It fastened at the back and rustled into perfect prettiness on all sides.

“I-Is it a friend I know, Mother-In-Law?” Toni’s eyes followed her back to the bed where more petticoats were waiting. He was going to look ridiculous if she took him out wearing all these.

“Yes, you know Victoria: my school-friend who follows me avidly on Facebook and Instagram to see how we are dressing you. She gives me some sound advice, like for instance, putting you into three or four petticoats at once to add to the width of your dress.”

The third petticoat spread around Toni, in purest white silk chiffon with deep lace edging spreading from its edges and bouncing on the softness of the others. Oh no! His dress would dance on his petticoats. It would add to his arousal, and if he was meeting Victoria Parker-Smyth she would definitely laugh at him. At least Sybil showed him some respect.

“She is expecting us at her condominium at 11am, my girl, and she will decide whether she wants to keep you for a little while.” She stood in front of her son-in-law and adjusted the layers of petticoats by lifting armfuls of chiffon and lace and dropping them in plunging waves of feminine softness round his stockings. “You’ll gain a lot of benefit from having a change: apparently it’s amazing what an improvement in your femininity can result from being feminized by another woman for a spell. Come over here for me to put you into your dress.”

Toni’s pulse pattered faster by the minute. He could recall that film-star smile of Sybil’s elegant and arrogant friend, a smile that he suspected would break into open laughter when she saw him in a dress filled with oceans of petticoat lace. Then he saw the dress Sybil had chosen for him: his blue satin party dress with its puffed sleeves and white Peter Pan collar edged with a frill. In the days after that momentous decision, when Rowena and Sybil had agreed to treat him as a girl, they had dressed him in their own clothes, but gradually they had picked styles that were younger and younger, and had treated him the same as if he was a teenager. Then he became a young girl in their eyes, but more recently they dressed and treated him as a little toddler.

He felt the prick of tears in his eyes as he fed his hands through the sleeves for Sybil to draw it together behind him, then she lifted it clear of his petticoats to lay it evenly across the bed of chiffon. It buttoned down to his waist, with four more buttons down to the hem, and a pretty bow at the back of the waist. She turned him this way and that, pondering his appearance, then returned to his closet to pick out – another dress: his pink silk sun dress: sleeveless, with a shoulder wide collar and an open front to reveal his petticoat silk.

His horror came out as a wail of dismay. “Please don’t, Sybil. I mean: Mother-In-Law. Please don’t show me to Victoria like this.”

She was dressing him in his pink dress over the top of the blue. “You mean Miss Parker-Smyth, girl. You will address her with deep respect.” This dress fastened at the back too, with pale blue glass dress buttons under the back of the huge divided collar. He could almost feel her despising him for his weakness and lack of manliness, but what could he do: there wasn’t a scrap of male clothing left in the house: he had to wear his own dresses, or Rowena’s, or Sybil’s, and it was agreed that he would be dressed as their little girl. And she hadn’t finished with him yet. As he stood in his swaying dresses and petticoats, his Mother-In-Law opened a fashion shopping bag on the bed and took out of it one pair of decorative panties after another. Pale blue silk, floral nylon, pink satin and white chiffon. She had him holding up his deep petticoats to reveal his stocking tops, and deprived him of his satin panties. Then she dressed him in one, two, three, four pairs, bringing aches of female pleasure to his deeply gusseted crotch.

When she straightened his layers and stood him at the mirror to contemplate his girlishness while she got ready, he found himself loving the fussy, pretty, super-feminine look of himself and his cock responded all the more achingly inside his deeply petticoated panties. In spite of all the shame and misery of his humiliations at their hands, he knew that he loved being dressed and feminized by his wife and her mother, and Victoria Parker-Smyth might even feminize him far more.

As they approached the entrance hall of her apartment, he recalled his one memory of her: she had dressed him once in one of her full length slips, and laughed and laughed at the point of his erection jutting it out in front as she made him walk to and fro up and down her living room. He had cringed with self-pity at being laughed at, long and loud. As the door opened and she stood there again in a pretty, stripey sun-dress, the look of amazement on her face followed by her snort of laughter behind her hand told him that he was going to suffer far more embarrassing wretchedness now. Who knows, Miss Parker-Smyth might have him for up to a week! His dress bounced around him as his petticoats sizzled through the doorway, and both women burst into laughter as the door closed behind him. They took him straight through to the silk and satin bedroom – for as much dressing as the two of them wanted.

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