He Needs Girls’ Panties a story by Prim
“Give me your hand. Hold the bottom edge of your coat with the other. Now, look no higher than the women’s shoes as we walk to Boux Avenue. The ladies are expecting us.”
Antony Perigrue placed his hand in Hillary’s white kid glove and click-clacked beside her on his way to the lingerie store. It was bad enough being taken shopping by his Mother-In-Law, but to be dressed in her hose and shoes bit hard into his wounded pride. His primrose bonnet and coat gave him away to every passer-by in the mall. They were bound to guess the absolute truth: there goes a sissy wimp who failed to do it for his bride, so his Mother-In-Law has declared that henceforth she would handle him. The more titters of amusement he heard, the more the tears welled in his eyes, until he could hardly see as they stepped into the fragrant quietness of Hillary’s lingerie store of choice. Miss Prussy came to meet them, her hair neatly chignoned at the back of her head.
“Miss Stone, welcome – and your dear son-in-law. How sweet! It’s lovely to have you both with us this morning.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll probably choose a couple of negligees myself, but it’s for the sissy I’m here. I want to try something I’ve read about.” Hillary passed over her coat and gloves. “Apparently the very weakest wimps – the ones who couldn’t possibly satisfy a woman – get very stiff and hard over girls’ panties. What do you think?”
Miss Prussy assumed mock astonishment as she kissed the tip of her first finger, showing Antony her varnished nail, the same crimson as her lipstick, then pressed her finger kiss onto his lips. “That would be the ones who have no masculinity about them at all,” she said, failing to hide her smile. “We’d better see if that applies to Anty-Panty here,” and she undid the front of his coat and had him turn for her so that she could slide it from his arms to reveal his pretty blue dress. It swelled all round him on a bed of petticoats. “Miss Olmandie,” she called to her assistant, “shall we pop our little sweetie into the sissy panty-fitting chair. We’re going to see if Hillary is right about him loving girls’ panties.”
Antony squirmed with shame, squeezing his knees together to stop his cock feeling nicer and nicer. He loved being close to Miss Olmandie: she smelt like a hundred roses and looked at him with those beautiful brown eyes from beneath her auburn hair. “Come along, sissy Antony,” she said, closing her cool, delicate fingers round his, and she led him into the centre of the store where the panty-fitting chair stood at one end of the main counter. He dropped his eyes as she looked into his with a smile, and drew the chair forward so that it was in the middle. “That sissy little botty of yours is going to pop onto this seat down here, darling, just as soon as we’ve taken down your panties for you.”
The son-in-law’s breathing became short as he tried to turn his legs away, but the two lingerie store assistants found no trouble in holding him by the arms while his petticoats were lifted up to his neck.
“Ah-haaaaa,” chuckled Miss Prussy, “I think Anty-Panty is wearing Mommy-In-Law’s panties today. Am I right, sweetie?”
The sissy’s voice broke. “Y-Yes, Miss Prussy.”
The manageress stood back to reveal the pointed gusset. “And they’re wet, aren’t they, sweetie? Does that mean you feel lovely when you wear Mommy-In-Law’s panties?”
His legs turned desperately from his waist to hide the fact. “Y-Y-Yes, Miss Prussy.” Hillary’s mouth wrinkled as if she was sucking a lime.
“He has no trouble getting stiff in his Mother-In-Law’s panties. What we’re going to find out is whether these words of wisdom are true about the most effeminate sissies loving girls’ panties.”
The sissy was soon naked from his petticoats to his stockings and the two women lowered him into the seat. He had occupied it before – once for helping to choose seductive panties for Hillary, and once for choosing satin bloomers for himself at bedtime. His arms were held out and ribboned in place, and his legs were lifted and displayed above him in Hillary’s nylons and high heels. Once a sissy’s legs were lifted high in the pantie-fitting chair, any women in the store were quick to stand where they could watch, and half a dozen had gathered already. Antony fought to control the sobs in his throat as Miss Prussy placed Hillary’s chair in front of him. His heart dropped as Miss Olmandie returned, carrying three boxes of girls’ panties.
As soon as the lid was removed, he bleated with shame. The tears filled his eyes again at the sort of panties he would be tested with: briefs and little bloomers, in shiny cotton interlock, with lovely prints and girlish patterns all over them. Miss Prussy made sure he could see the lovely colours, the cute leg elastics, the shiny gusset of each pair she picked out.
“Here we are, Hillary,” she said, stretching a pair of pink cotton panties into their fullest shape, which wasn’t very big. “Miss Olmandie will apply these to your sissy boy’s dolly.”
Miss Olmandie pulled them wide as well. “The sissy boy’s dolly is standing to full attention,” she announced as she knelt with the panties inches from his helpless organ, and the audience of women were astounded at how stiff it had become, before any panty contact. “I think I’d better wrap it in its panties right away, or Anty-Panty might miss the excitement of girls’ panties.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” gurgled Antony Perigrue, not meaning to make a sound. “Ohhhhhhhhhh! G-G-Girlssss pantiessssssssssss! I w-w-want girls’ p-p-panties, Mommy-In-Law – pleeeeeeeeeeease!”
His arms pulled on the wrist ribbons, not to get free, but because his bonneted face wanted to stoop and kiss the panties that cascaded out of the box at Miss Prussy’s knees. White panties, lemon panties, pale blue panties with white ribbons. He wanted them all to join his pink panties as his cock made love to them, pushing, seeping, then pulsing, with squirt after squirt of sissy cream filling the panty and running down Miss Olmandie’s sliding hands. Miss Prussy pursed her lips and looked up at Hillary while her son-on-law wailed in rhythm as he filled the panty.
Hillary smiled. “He needs girls’ panties,” she declared, “but since we have whole boxes of them, why don’t we drain a lot more out of him for our appreciative audience.”
The ladies laughed and showed their thanks with a round of applause, and Antony Perigrue’s gleaming cock came into their sight, long enough for Miss Olmandie to spread and fold a pretty pair of white girls’ panties, covered all over in tiny pictures of girls’ frocks. His sissy cock couldn’t wait, and rose up to meet them in her hands.
***
This story first appeared in May 2016 in Aunt Frocks Newsletter at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com
