Let’s face it, today’s society is becoming a matriarchy in which the women decide what they will do with their men. It’s no surprise therefore that in these days of female superiority more and more wives are making use of the newly fashionable Sissy Clubs. The idea is simple and so convenient: a girl decides she wants to recover her single independence, the better to look for one of those ‘real’ males they hear about. So she drops her so-called husband into the hands of the Sissy Club women who are only too happy to grab him for whatever purposes they want.
This is exactly how to describe the change in Margarita Flirting’s marriage to her insipid husband Duncan. She had chosen him for just such a future, of course: he was such a green 21-year-old, flat and uninteresting, but perfect for the purposes of inflicting deep shame and humiliation on a male. The beauty of a Sissy Club, though, is that the sissies who get enrolled into its group of victims provide other women with ample opportunity to enrich their lives by inserting the unfortunate frilly-bois into their imaginative fetish life-styles.
“Hello, it’s Margarita Flirting, and this is my ‘HUS-band’, Duncan,” explained Margarita on his first visit to the Women’s Sissy Club. The red-haired, shapely hostess who met her in the foyer grinned with intrigue as she summed up the wretched male with a contemptuous leer. “He imagines he’s quite virile, would you believe,” said Margarita, “but look at him, ha-ha.”
Connie Hunter loved to get her hands on males like this. The tip of her tongue tripped round her ruby lips before smirking as she looked Duncan Flirting in the eye, and planted one hand on her hip. “As in male?” she enquired, as if astonished. “I see.” Her cheeks sucked into hollows as she controlled a smile. “That would explain his see-thru women’s raincoat, showing what a nice blouse and skirt you’ve got him in for his visit today.” She giggled as she used the fingers of both hands to shape the lapels of his mackintosh, flipping up the large pointed collar so that it cupped his face in cold pink plastic. “You’ve got him looking very nice, Missus Flirting. Very pretty.” She tucked at the front of his buttoned bodice where his mac was well filled with a female bosom. “Very weak and obedient – and sissy.”
Duncan lifted his arms in a crinkle of pink plastic to free himself from her interference. “Margarita,” he muttered, “you can’t leave me here – like this. Take me home again, pleeease!”
“Don’t be silly, boy,” came his wife’s reply. “We’ve been through this. I’m meeting Jed Burrows at the Savoy in half an hour and I need you out of the way, safely in the hands of women. How could I leave you at the Women’s Sissy Club in any other clothes than mine?”
Connie listened, and watched the husband struggle between public humiliation and hopeless despair. She started to undo his belt, as if her fingers couldn’t leave his raincoat alone. “If it’s your wife’s clothes you’re not happy with, babykins, I can fix that no problem. Here at Women’s Sissies we have plenty of girls’ dresses to put newcomers in. I’ll have you looking so sweet in just a few minutes.”
“I want rid of the weed,” went on Margarita as if he wasn’t part of their conversation. “His bedroom performance,” and she shook her head with a snort of disdain, “is non-existent. I assure you, whether you put him into little girls’ dresses or not, this one is already a girl. After yet another foreplay failure about a month ago I put the idiot’s prick into a pair of my night panties and a babydoll and he stiffened like a poker. So I pulled him over my knee and spanked him. Seems that’s just the sort of sex he needs: feminine dressing and female power. Now I have to cane him every night and dress him in lingerie and mini-skirt with a blouse, or in one of his little girl dresses. He sleeps in a child’s cot with bars, well away from me on the other side of the bedroom.”
Her husband’s blushing face was turning this way and that to hide his shame at these revelations, especially since his hands were constantly failing to stop Connie’s fingers from undoing his skirt and dropping it to the floor, then his wife’s blouse, followed by her slip which she slid off his shoulders and made him step out of it. “Yes, Missus Flirting,” she agreed, “I can see you’ve married a watery drip of sexless impotence. He’s going to be so right for us here at Women’s Sissies.”
“What are you going to do with him for the rest of the day?”
“I can make him one of my babies,” declared Connie, unhooking his panties from the naked, erected cock that pressed and slid into the cleft between her legs in her chocolate satin skirt. Her fingers took hold of it and made it her own in a warm clutch of female control.
“And I can take him home with me,” came another voice as they were joined by a neat and pretty brunette looking very interested indeed in the newly naked sissy. She too was in a pencil skirt and a silk top that showed her top-heavy curves just as powerfully as Connie’s.
Connie grinned and hugged her captive into her bust as she spoke to his wife over his shoulder. “My colleague Olga is good at reducing men who think they are virile into sissies who are effeminate. It’s what she lives for: making men cry at the loss of manhood they suffer when she gets working on them.” She drew him back from her bosom to look at the feelings showing on his face and a ripple of pleasure ran through her at the crumpled look of horror he showed, close to tears in the middle of three contemptuous women.
“I’ll teach him to sit and cuddle with my sissy husband,” said Olga, using the tip of her index finger to tickle him under his chin. He pulled it away, but Connie tightened on his cock to show him what a bad idea that was, and Olga’s fingers clasped him by the chin again so that he had to look at her as she went on. “It’s amazing how fast they learn feminine sweetness – when they’re maleness is no more than a mixture of water and sissy-juice. He looks just right, your husband. The longer you can leave him with us, the more of a girl we’ll be able to make him.”
“Oh that’s great,” cried Margarita, picking up her clothes from the floor.
“Honey you can’t leave me here,” cried her husband. “Don’t be stupid. These women’ll try and – Aarrgghhh!”
A tightening of the fingers allowed Connie Hunter to assert full control over what he could manage to say, which quickly became a string of squeaks and breathless begging for mercy. What more could he say when she lifted him onto the tips of his toes, supported mainly by his cock and his chin. His hand and arms were pinned between their silky tops and skirts. He watched in desperation as his wife collected her pink mackintosh and everything else, turned at the door to blow him a kiss, and was gone.
For a new, young husband, who knows he is impotent, to find himself abandoned by his wife into the hands of women strangers – women who are determined and too strong for him – the fear of what is going to happen to him next is truly daunting. All the more so when he is naked and defenceless in their hands.
“Come and sit here with Auntie Connie, sissykins,” she cooed in his ear as the women drew him down onto their laps on the settee, “and we’ll make little Duncan my darling baby girl. Won’t that be nice, my pet. You’re going to find out how lovely it is to feel feminine in Mommy’s hands, especially when she has you nicely dressed in silkies and frillies.”
Duncan Flirting was prevented at every turn from freeing his arms or his bare legs, and his stiffened cock jerked this way and that into their clothes as the women brought him into the position they wanted him in, lying on his side with his cock pressed against Connie’s blue striped blouse. Olga held a jar of jelly open for her as she covered her fingers with a large slub of mint-green gel and inserted it with two fingers into the horrified man’s anal passage.
“Don’t do that!” he cried, trying madly to wriggle but Olga slid an arm over his leg and held him perfectly still as Connie slid her fingers in and out in rhythm, adding a second slub of gel into his passage and working it deeper still.
“One of the best things for an impotent sissy husband to have, when his wife is dating a real man at this minute,” said Connie as she prepared him for his sissification, “is a male butt-plug like this one right up inside his un-male ass-crack.” She presented the pink plastic, cock-shaped plug to his view, as wide as a rampant male cock and six or seven inches long, bringing a scream of horror from his throat.
“You can’t put that into my ass, stupid woman!” and his whole body bucked with frantic resistance. The women gritted their teeth with grins of power and weathered his attempted kicks and punches: they had him in an iron grip that prevented all wriggling.
“Oh yes, darling, Mommy has to put it into baby Duncan, and slide it right inside – like this – so that little Duncky can feel more like a girl for Mommy.”
“Stop! Gettit out! Arrgghhh! Oh my God!” His legs couldn’t move as Connie pushed it halfway into his ass-hole, then further as he wailed out loud, and finally out of sight inside his ass.
“Then we pull these ribbons up here, sweetie-pie,” she said in a mock motherly sing-song voice, “and wrap this pretty pink belt round Baby’s middle – pulling it ri-i-i-ight up like this as high as it will go, then reaching Baby’s belt together with very tight pulling, with one popper, and two, and three – and four and THERE! – Baby Duncky is filled up as high inside as can be with his inky-pinky cock-plug. Isn’t that so SWEET!”
“Oh my God! My God, what have you done to me?” His voice was strangely weakened into a girly sweetness as he grumbled at his new condition. He found himself unable to kick and wriggle as he had been doing. Instead he wanted to push his cock out forwards in its stiffened condition, the better to reduce the filling effect of the male shape deep inside his passage. He caught sight of pink ribbons edged with trims of white lace spreading over his belly, and a pale pink belt about five inches deep pressing into his waist, with white pop-fasteners arranged in a square in front, and words on either side for the women to read; ‘Sissy’s ass-plug’.
“And Duncky’s little popsykins needs to be covered with Mommy’s sani-pad like this pet,” she went on, as Olga made sure his knees were wide apart, his feet dangling in the air so that Connie could open one of her flesh-coloured sanitary pads, nine inches long and four wide, spread it along the underside of his erection and wrap it round.
The abandoned husband cringed at the enclosing feel of femininity round what should have been his most fiercely masculine organ. “Femi-Sweet panty protection,” she read off the length of padded pink nylon as she slipped an elastic wrap over the end and placed it at his cock’s root, followed by a second which she secured below the knob. “My baby is ready to be fastened up into diapers,” she cooed, swinging him sideways across her skirt with his sani-padded erection up in front of her. Olga had a disposable diaper opened to spread under his legs. It was enormous: white with pink tabs and pink stitching round the ruched legs. “Because Duncky has to be put into a pretty baby dress and bloomers so that Auntie Connie can give him his important hormone drinkies.” She wrapped him in his diaper and the two women taped him tightly into it. He was diapered from his legs almost to under his armpits. “When Mistress comes to collect him she’ll be so pleased with how girly her babykins is turning out.”
“And she’ll find her baby husband has wet and messed into his diaper, I should think,” declared Olga who had an equally enormous pair of diaper pants covered in pink plastic with black or white drawings of little girls in their frocks all over.
“I – I’m a MAN!” whimpered their captive as the diaper pants were slid up his legs and over his diaper. “I don’t want to be – to be a baby like this. Ohhh, I feel strange – like soft and silky inside this diaper. I want you to – to take it off me, pleeeeease!”
The diaper all but disappeared beneath the diaper panties. the pink elastics were half-way down his thighs while the waist elastic was a few inches below the top ruched edge of the diaper which hid his bare nipples from view.
“Of course you feel soft and dainty, darling pet,” cooed Connie. “We want our sissy to be a very girly baby. That’s why we have to dress him in this pretty-pretty pair of diaper covers. Aren’t they SWEET!” Connie held him by the arms, sitting up on her skirt with his back against her bosom, while Olga opened out the large pair of silk panties in a bright rose pink, with cut-out lacy tracery on each leg, edged with lovely white stitching and lacy trimming. A darling picture of another pair of girls’ panties was embroidered on the front panel, so that he was in no doubt that they were dressing him in very feminine panties indeed. A groan of self pity escaped his throat: how completely they were robbing him of his masculinity: how delicate and un-sexed he was becoming in their hands.
Olga had a petticoat ready to drop over his head and shoulders. Its white softness came from the sheer chiffon of its material. It was so wide as it flounced round him, clustering at each shoulder in a cute puffed sleeve, then flaring in a wide tent of white embroidered patterns. It was as if he had been buried from the neck down in a mound of white tissue with his bare knees peeping from the edge, wide apart. This petticoat told him that he was a baby now, and the rosy sweetness he felt in his sani-pad penis told him he was a girl.
His groans became a more pitiful moan, reduced to impotence, as he lay back against Connie’s blouse for a baby dress to be opened out in front of him. Olga threaded her arms into it through the skirt, lifted it towards his head, and it dropped onto his petticoat. The tears welled in his eyes as they fitted each petticoat sleeve into the puffs of his dress, spread the pink sizzling silk of his dress scattered with white polka dots over the skirt of his petticoat, and gathered the stiffened satin collar round his throat: a girls’ dress with a white girls’ dress collar. “What a girl loves, darling,” cooed Connie as she leaned him forward on his deep skirts, “is to feel her pretty dress buttons being fastened up her back – like this, pet. One – two – three dress buttons, and four. There, isn’t that a lovely feeling!”
Her words made his tears flow all the more: silently, but full of misery. What had become of his maleness? What if Margarita came back and saw him like this, so overwhelmed by just two women, wrapped up in diapers and – oh how weak and pathetic in her husband – wanting them to fasten him into this awfully girly pink dress? A wave of femininity swept over him in a girlish shudder as they spread his dress and petticoat around him, arranging and fussing them, prettying them, making him a little girl. He shrank as he realised he was loving it. He felt so happy at the same time as knowing he was miserable. His cock felt even more lovely deep under his dress and he wanted it to enjoy this oh-so-girly feeling.
It got its fresh surge of feeling, when he caught a shiny white flash out of the corner of his eye. It was Connie opening out the white satin lining of a girlish bonnet, in the same polka dotted pink as his lovely dress. He wanted it over his head. He wanted it to surround him and conceal him inside its feminine prettiness, and it did, because as she wrapped it round his hair from behind, its stiffened satin sides slid all the way forward past his face in such a deep brim, with white lace all round its front edges. The pink ribbons, rich and wide, wrapped under the point of his chin, wrapping the bonnet even closer over his cheeks and narrowing the slot in front of his eyes. He saw part of Olga’s face in front of him as she peered in.
“Peek-a-boo, babykins,” she sang, tucking at the lace in front of Duncan’s face. At the same time Connie’s hands appeared too, on either side as her arms gathered round him. She parted his bonnet so as to insert a feeding bottle with a pink plastic top and a big brown rubber teat. As the women at Women’s Sissies always found, he opened his lips with no resistance and began to suck, his hands reaching inside his own bonnet and clasping her hands and bottle to his mouth. He was too preoccupied in gulping to hear the voice of Olga, who had her phone to her ear quite close to the side of his sucking pink bonnet.
“Hello? – Margarita? – It’s Olga at Women’s Sissies. – Oh yes, he’s doing fine, reaching all our expectations. – yes, in a diaper with impregnated sani-pad to add to his female desires, with his dickie all wrapped up inside a diaper and pull-up pants. – Well I’m ringing because I wanted to ask you if I can take him home with me: the reason is because my own sissy of a husband will help me to sissify your husband very effectively, as you would see if you agreed to this.”
Duncan Flirting had other things on his frilly mind as Olga shared her plans. His bonnet was a place of baby-minded eagerness – to drink and swallow as much of this lovely milk as he could, while his bare legs kicked and slid beneath the frothy lace of his petticoat. He did manage to catch loud laughter and the phrase: “so I’ll have him for two days, from Wednesday morning at 9 until Thursday at 8. That’s awesome, Margarita. We’ll get so much accomplished in that time.”
After a day in the hands of Connie and Olga at Women’s Sissies, in which he admitted to them each time they asked him that he wanted to carry on feeling pink and sweet in his baby dress and bloomers, he was collected by his contemptuous wife, laughing and s********ing, and delivered by her the following morning to Olga’s nice detached house on the other side of town, where wife and husband made the acquaintance of her blond-haired husband Valeri in his sissy play pen in the living room. Valeri wore a crisply starched cotton dress in a pink pattern. He was very shy, partly because he was meeting a new sissy and his Mistress-wife, but also because his own wife had got him in a high fronted dress which revealed how erected his dickie was in his satin panties.
Duncan, for his part, was feeling the forceful effects of the drinks he had been given the day before at the Women’s Sissies Club. Seeing another sissy brought a rising wish in him to reach out and feel that crisp pink dress all over its skirt, its puffed sleeves and its pretty bodice, and to clasp its girly occupant deeply into his arms. Perhaps it was Valeri’s bouffant hair-style with its lovely pink ribbon, or his beautiful face and pink lipstick. Or maybe it was that enormous, thick, stiff pair of panties that thrust itself towards the ceiling in front of him.
Within five minutes of arriving in the house the two darlings were holding hands, avoiding each other’s eyes in coy shyness and making sure that their elbows and legs touched each other without being too obvious. No sooner had Margarita left, however, Olga had her husband and his girlfriend upstairs in front of opened closets, changing each other’s dresses and fitting each other with nice jewellery. It’s surprising how attractive one sissy finds another sissy when they are fitting their earrings through their ears and fastening their necklace at the back of their neck.
They were joined at half past nine by Phillipa and Gaynor, who knew all about sissies after sissifying their own ex-boyfriends. Phillipa was a bundle of excitement at having Valeri on the skirt of her black taffeta dress, and when Gaynor and Olga drew Duncan down onto their dresses too, all three women sitting in a row along the sofa, it was so easy to turn two shy sissies into sissy-coddling sweethearts across the laps of their frocks.
“Sissy girls love these little sprays of eau de cologne,” sang Olga, adding Parisian femininity to the neck and behind the ears of each girly sissy. “This is Sweet and Defenceless by Lanvin,” she explained to her giggling helpers. “It won’t be long before we see the effects.”
She was right. Duncan’s arms enfolded Valeri’s dress in urgent devotion, kissing those scented spots of soft skin and warm flesh. Valeri didn’t lose his shyness, but squirmed with pleasure under these lovely attentions and parted his legs as wide as he could with Duncan lying and sliding closer up the front of his high fronted dress, the better for their panties to find each other in spasms of blissful girlishness. The women helped them out of their panties, so that their bare dickies could meet, stiffly and eagerly. Without questioning what he was doing in his confused little head, Duncan found his cock being guided between soft bottom cheeks and sliding inside Valeri’s girly tube in the most delicious cloud of perfumed sweetness he could possibly dream of.
When Margarita arrived the following day to collect her newly sissified husband, she was amazed to find the sissies inside the same pair of baby bloomers, his cock sliding ecstatically up inside Valeri’s ass. For Duncan, the shame of Margarita seeing him was the final straw – a surge of shame too much. It made him climax in this newly discovered yearning he had for being a feminine sissy and having sex with another sissy in a pretty dress, inside the same pair of deeply feminine granny panties. It was going to be the first of many visits, which was ideal for Margarita and her new boyfriend. The misery for her husband was intense, but it could never quite tip the scales against his wish to wear more of Valeri’s sweet dresses and panties, only to remove their panties and find those blissful soft places underneath, especially when Olga had sprayed them with more of that irresistible eau de cologne for very eager sissy girls who wanted to be deeply intimate with each other across the laps of ladies’ dresses.
***
This is one of eight stories in Feminized In Frillies volume 4,
The new issue of Prim’s Petticoat Pansies #36, a MOTHER-IN-LAW special issue, will be available in two weeks at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com
The pictures in this series are all drawn by Prissy. You can find Prissy's site at www.prissys-sissies.com
