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"Sexy Clothing For Sissies")
The part list
Part 1
Note: please do not attempt any of the medical items in this story- even if based in reality, they are definite fantasy.
Part One
So many times had I pored over this leaflet advertising a brand new attraction:
* Come to The first Sissy Theme Park in the world,
to pamper your every sissy desire!
Only if you are 18 years old or over.
As well as our sissy accessories shop, and sissy cafe,
we can thrill you with the following attractions:
Rides:
! Fairyland
! Baby bath
! Wet Splash
! Sissy Ghost Train
! Sissy's Magic Castle (under fours only)
! 360 degree Sissy (over threes only)
! Sissy Dodgems.
Booths:
! Pampered Parlor
! Sissy Fortune Teller
! Kith me Quick
! Perfume Shy
! Body Painting
! Sissy Wedding Booth.
Specials:
! Sissy Karaoke
! Sissy Dance Floor (4s and over only)
! Feeding Time (under 4s)
! Hall of Punishment.
Plus two optional 'extras' for which strict conditions and additional fees
apply,
1 Baby Sissies can book a Mummy to accompany you round the park.
2 This thing called the Sissy Sex Parlor. In addition to beauty preparation here,
and special lessons for sissies, this offers:
! Piggy Back Races for Babies
! Sissy Boys' Sprint
! Sissy Girls' Horse Ride.
Each time I read the leaflet with its tiny accompanying photos, I am becoming
more and more excited. Now here I am flying on the plane to England, for a
week's holiday, but most particularly to have the time of my life at Sissys Theme
Park.
After much thought, I had booked two days at Sissys, the first two days of my
holiday naturally, then I'd have three more ordinary days sightseeing the
country.
Of course, I could have opted for all five full days there, I'd have liked it, but the cost of the flight, and even the cheapest accommodation in a caravan park six miles from Sissys had already burned a huge hole in my little pocket. On top of
that, apart from those extras, there was the little matter of the entrance money.
Full price for a day, that is £60. However that is reduced to £20, if you present yourself at the ticket gate wearing a sissy outfit. The rules for these outfits are pretty strict, but that is one thing that doesn't bother me one tiny bit.
I am very happy to go dressed as a sissy, for I have always loved being one. Ever
since I was little, I have enjoyed dressing up in my sister Sarah's clothes. The day my mummy found me dolled up might have been embarrassing for many, but it
came as a relief for me to know my mum knew I preferred dressing as a girl.
Though she never exactly encouraged it, she tolerated it, and when I was an
older teenager, she hardly blinked an eyelid, when I actually went off to a clothes
shop for the first time in Sarah's clothes.
So you can see I will easily get in at the cheap rate. However I also had a longing
for a Mummy to accompany me one day. This proved harder to sort out than I
anticipated, cos the Mummies were booked up for weeks ahead. Trouble is there
are only four of them at the moment, and in the end, I was forced to plan my
whole week around this one thing. At £120 extra, this special isn't cheap, but I
think it sounds really fun, so my plan is this:
Day one (that's today) flight to England and book into caravan site.
Days four to six sightseeing, then fly home on day seven.
Second day mmm... I'll go as a nine year old sissy, enjoy a good look round
Sissys, so I can really get full value out of
Day Three. This will be my extra special day, in which I'll wear my best diaper,
I'll call it nappy cos that's its name in England. To take me round I have been
assigned Mummy Marianne. I spent most of the rest of my flight, imagining how
nice she might be.
I am almost shaking with excitement, as I sit in the bus that is speeding me to
Sissys. This morning I had put on my best schoolgirl uniform, a pure white
blouse and matching silken pantie, over which came my dark green gymslip.
Long white socks and matching dark green shoes, which are not high heeled
exactly, but not flat soled either. It makes me look a little "gwown up," and
maybe isn't that sissy, I didn't want to make myself stand out too much.
However on the front of my gymslip is a large knitted picture of a golden teddy
bear, And my long black hair has been bunched with two golden ribbons into
two large pony tails that are poking upwards- I think that makes me sissy
enough.
Looking around, straining to see the stop for Sissys, I am a little surprised
there are no other sissies traveling here. Maybe they are all too scared and travel
by car? But the high car parking charges seemed designed to encourage you to
use public transport...
"Sissys," calls out the driver, for my benefit. I crane my neck to see. There are
only high trees visible, apart from the giant entrance sign. I'm the only one who
alights.
I cross the deserted road to the entrance. Pay here, announces a sign, but
increasingly puzzled, I find the booth closed. A panic sets in. Why isn't anyone
else here? Don't say I've come all this way for nothing.
No-one around to ask. I can't see anything of what is inside, past the large
boarded up entrance gates. Then I see a sign that reveals all.
In my excitement, I hadn't taken it in properly. It isn't open yet. Today doors
open at 10am, I thought it was 9.30! But that's only at weekends. I sigh with
relief, and feel better when I see a car pulling in to the car park, driven by an
attractive looking sissy. Then a bus pulls up from the opposite direction to mine,
and two young men get off, not dressed as sissies, but making for the entrance.
"Hello darling," one brown-eyed lad calls out to me, "you look the part! Want
me to take you round?" He joins the queue I've started at the entrance. I shake
my head.
He starts giggling with his friend and getting the drift of their thoughts, I
wander off to try and peer through the thick trees and bushes. I'd like to be in
first, but not if I have to stand next to them for half an hour.
By the time I come back at five to ten, there's a queue of about thirty, maybe six or seven dressed sissily like me. It's nearly time!
Shortly before ten, a sissy girl opens the entrance and collects the sixty pounds
from each of us.
My turn. The girl smiles at me. Twenty, she promptly tells me, hands me my
Sissy token pass for the day, and I'm thru the gates and into Sissys!
First you have to pass thru the large shop and cafe. Here those two lads are
arranging the hire of some sissy outfit, there's a sign saying you can claim £20 off your admission if you present yourself at the gate in one of these. Lots of things to buy here too, if only I had the money. There's a sign saying 'Mummies' and three girls are waiting here for their clients- it'll be my turn tomorrow!
From a distance I inspect them, wondering which might be Mummy Marianne.
All three are fairly well built, two I'd say are in their early thirties, one perhaps some years older. They all are blonde, they all are smiling, they are all dressed differently, though each has a badge indicating they are employed here. They idly chat to each other, each toying with the push chair at their side. They all look like lovely mummies. I wish it were mine turn today. But suddenly my
dreams are smashed, for a group of three baby girls emerge from the toilets,
crawling up to them. I look away, disappointed, but comforted in the knowledge
my turn would come.
Out the other side of the shop, and into the theme park. It's still quiet, though
more people, about half in sissy clothing, are emerging like myself from the shop.
The attractions are all numbered, and you can visit them in any order, so I
allow myself to wander round and take it all in.
There's a large central area, dotted with a few of the booths and a few kiddie
benches, as well as a slide and swings. Round the edges between tall trees and
thick hedging can be seen the entrances to the various rides. Some you can't see
inside, like that Ghost Train, but I stop at the Sissy Dodgems and am able to
watch the action. I decide it's not for me.
Here, the first ride of the day is in full swing. There are twelve frail looking
dodgem cars, two per car, as well as a couple of larger and more robust cars
driven by two butch men. They are driving round and making some of the sissies
scream as they threaten to crash into their cars. They seem to be able to drive
faster than anyone else and I soon see that it is mostly sissies that they are
striving to hit.
One pair of girls in pink have already suffered, their car appears to have lost
its rear end. Suddenly one of the burly men smashes into their left side, which
disintegrates leaving a gaping hole and two screaming girls. Now I look more
carefully, several other cars have been hit in the same way, evidently it's part of
their design that parts fall off easily!
The same two girls are now screaming cos I can see both burly men are making
a concerted attack on them! As other cars flash by in all directions, there's a
heavy bump, a louder scream and the girls' car is a wreck. The front and right
side have fallen off, they are sitting with the controls wedged between the two
men. Amid more screams, the two men leap into the wrecked dodgem. More
screams. I look away as the men kiss the two helpless victims.
A hooter blasts. End of the session, the screaming stops, the two girls look as
though they actually enjoyed it. The two men have leaped away and are busily
repairing the damaged dodgems, which click together back into their original
shape like some construction kit.
Perhaps it does look exciting, I decided, but maybe later?
I wanna make for the Pampered Parlor.
Here's a little booth, room for one it says, plus a mummy if you have one.
They say go here early on, and I soon find out why.
There's a queue to get in, I join behind a sweet little toddler all on her own. I try to make polite conversation, but baby doesn't speak. The queue moves
quickly, inside there are actually seven self contained areas, and I go to the one
indicated by the flashing 'Vacant' light. The door opens when I insert my Sissy
pass.
Remove your clothing here, reads a sign. No-one can see inside thank goodness,
and I neatly pile my possessions in a locker.
Sit here. My pink booth has a seat with, in the center, a pole. A diagram shows
how to sit, holding the pole, one foot either side.
Press. On the pole a button. I wanna be pampered and with a sigh of pleasure,
press it.
Nursery rhyme jingles start playing. A cloud of dust is showered down, it
smells oh so intoxicating, like the fragrance of some heavily scented flower. Then
a liquid is sprayed out of the pole, sweet and sticky that covers my body and
arms and legs.
"Wipe your face with Pampers Spray," a voice soothes me, and I do so. I can
smell it more powerfully now. Then a spray of warm water descends on me,
washing me so the stickiness has vanished. But the scent remains, as a rush of
warm air fills the booth and in minutes I am dry again. I smell delicious. I put on
my school uniform and totter out into the bright sunlight, the only blot to my
happiness, is that too late I have seen there was a choice of six 'smells.' But who
cares? I'd love to do that again, but while most attractions you can visit as many
times as you like, your pass only permits you in here once.
Where next? A priority must be the things I can't do tomorrow when I'm a
toddler.
So I wend my way to the 360 degree sissy ride. You can watch this. It's very
revealing! There are twelve double seats on a huge circular wheel, thirty feet in
diameter, this revolves, and as the seats are fixed, you are upside down at the top.
It whirls fast and it is great fun watching as the couples in their chairs reach the zenith, then head towards the ground, down they swoosh.
A notice challenges Sissies to Remove your Panties if you dare! One pair of
sissies had, the half dozen other pairs were too scared. Three other pairs on the
seats were boys, a notice said only sissies were allowed to remove any clothing,
the operator ensuring this rule was complied with.
The wheel slowed, and now those in sissy dresses had their underwear, or lack
of it, revealed as they got to the top. Then the machine stopped, and the
undressed sissies were, perhaps not coincidentally, at the zenith. All of us
watching could see they were indeed girls. Oh how I wish I could be a real sissy
girl like them. But I also want a turn on this ride!
After a pause, the straps of the chair at the bottom came undone, and one by one
the pairs quit, allowing a new couple to join in. I was in that queue!
The pantieless pair were now on the ground and I was the one to take their place.
But the operator stops me.
I am puzzled for a moment. He takes my pantie which I am holding, as per
instructions, and puts me to one side. He explains that I have to get on last.
There are two others like me, and we are allotted the final places. I am on my
own. The operator shouts out to the small queue, "anyone else dare to go
pantieless?"
A sissy in wispy yellow chiffon steps forward, hands her pantie and sits next to
me. I think she really is a girl. She smiles at me as we are locked in.
Am I slightly nervous? Yes I am, cos I don't usually show myself in public like
this. But even if I hadn't let anyone see my little willy before, then people had seen me sumptuously dressed as a sissy, so why not this? Beside I want to shock some of them, whom I had heard whispering about me in the queue, that I probably am a girl.
The wheel begins racing round, the rhythm of my dress falling and rising is
exhilarating. I think people will need a telescope to see me thirty feet up, my
gymslip flapping in my face, and my little willy turning upside down too. But it
lasts only a second, we are descending already. Next time I'll try and look at the
chiffon girl, whose dress is splaying out in the wind, blown hither and thither by
the speed of the wheel.
Here we come! Yes, I'm looking across at her- she's looking at me! I think she
really is a girl, but it all happens so fast. I feel her hand slip into mine, that's nice.
Next time round I know I'm right. Perhaps she has learned I'm not a girl.
The wheel slows. It stops, so the pantieless are both almost at the high point. My uniform is flopping down. Even from that far away, surely the watchers will
know I'm not a girl now. Certainly my friend does. My eyes seem glued on her
pubic region, it's all dark, like her skin, not a hair in sight. That makes me decide I must have myself shaved round there.
She squeezes my hand as we descend slowly.
"Coming round with me?" she asks. I hesitate. I am very shy.
"My name's Venus," she continues, "what's yours?"
"Me called, er, Syrie," I hesitate.
She looks with her clear blue eyes right into me.
"That's nice," she says reassuringly. "But what's your Real Name?"
I look at her.
"I saw you on the ride," she confesses, "Syrie's not your proper name is it?"
I am walking off, happy to be on my own, but she links her hand back in mine,
and encourages me.
"You don't want to go round here on your own, Syrie, it's more fun together
you know."
"Aren't you with someone?" I query.
"I was, but Lana has found someone, they're having some fun on the Fairyland
ride together. But I didn't wanna go there. Come on, I'll take you to a fun ride."
Hesitating, I follow her pull. She leads me to the Sissy Ghost Train and pushes
me into the next carriage, with her.
We hurtle in to the blackness with white ghosts in sissy dresses hovering outside
us. I didn't see much more, cos Venus pushes me over and lands on top of me.
"You'll love this ride Syrie," I feel her hand groping my silk pantie. I try to
push her off as ghostly noises wail around us.
"Me is a sissy," I protest.
"Yes, so am I," responds Venus, understanding I didn't want to, and sitting up.
"But we can still play naughty sissies can't we? You'll like it, really you will."
"No me won't," I protest, as her hand starts groping anew. "No, me won't. Me
never do naughty things like that."
Venus sat up once more. She stares at me in the darkness. "Don't you really?"
she sounds shocked.
"No, me don't." I repeat.
"What never? But surely you must sometimes?"
"No, me like to be a proper sissy, so please don't do that." I push her hand
away again. "But you can kiss me," I conceded.
Venus does so, believing no doubt I may be yielding. But I don't mean her to
kiss me on the lips, so I push her firmly off.
The remainder of the ride is thankfully short and silent, aside from the ghostly
howls. I have only time to notice a pink ghost fluttering over us, enveloping us
with its sheet, then we are out into the sunshine. I run away, hoping never to
meet Venus again.
My refuge is the dance floor where only sissies are allowed. Five couples are
dancing away, one I guess might be Lana, she looks pretty hot and bothered
about something. You can dance in pairs or on your own, but instead I went to the Karaoke next door.
I fancied myself doing this. You can be Shirley Temple, or Betty Boop, or
Bonnie Langford, or sing an old song Pretty Polly Perkins, or choose one of
several nursery rhymes.
I watch the pair on stage. They're miming the song Pat a Cake and have
attracted a crowd who are laughing loudly.
I realize that they are probably being crude, and I don't think I follow their
meaning thankfully.
"Pat a cake baker's man," a girl in high heeled boots and plastic flowery dress is
dancing round a guy with a white baker's hat, patting him. After several
repetitions of the song, she is patting closer to his rude bits.
"Pat it and prick it," she holds her own private parts,
"Put it in the oven for baby and me."
The crowd clap wildly.
I am next. Nothing rude about me. Though it gets them going all right.
I'm Betty Boop and with plenty of boop a doop doops I sing out in the highest
voice I can manage, I Wanna Be Loved By You.
After a few lines I know the audience are rapt. By the end they are ecstatic,
some taking my invitation a little too literally perhaps. I walk off with encore
ringing round the park. I grab a quick word with the karaoke machine operator,
and bow to the enlarged crowd.
"Thank you," I say loudly. "I can sing one more, it's a song called I Want to be
Bad."
Applause as I announce that. Perhaps it is a provocative number as I sing to
them that I can never be happy being a goody, I wanna be bad! But they don't
appreciate I'm only pretending. I avoid clutching hands as I once again run off.
Feeling very hungry, I make for the café. Here are high chairs, some with
babies being fed, some with toddlers feeding themselves, as well as pretty nursery
chairs around round tables, everywhere fairy tale pictures.
There is an empty place by a table with three girls, dressed in my age, one with
a similar school uniform only in black.
"Pwease can I sit here."
The one with dark hair in the uniform nods. They are making rather a mess
with their spaghetti, with strands of the stuff forlorn on the table, more dropped
on the floor.
A waitress in a pretty dark red satin dress comes up to me.
"Do you want the soup, and or the main course?" she asks me.
"Both pwease," I nod. "I'm hungry," I add unnecessarily.
I soon discover why the girls are making a mess, they have to eat with a fork,
and are not managing too well.
"We are told to eat with our left hands," the dark girl explains, "it's hard if you are right handed like us."
"So am I," I reply, as a bowl of leek soup is placed before me.
"Which hand are you?" the waitress demands.
Having been told, she deftly handcuffs my right hand to the table.
It takes me half an hour to get thru my soup and spaghetti. The other three, not
very chatty to me have long left, and I am seated amid a soggy mass of dried soup and strings of spaghetti. My face needs a wash and my uniform is decidedly soiled.
I need the Baby Bath. I hope they'll let me in, it doesn't say it's only for
toddlers.
Good. I'm allowed in, and have a cubicle with a bath, at least I can get clean,
even if my uniform is a bit of a mess. It's nice lying back in the hot foamy bath,
and the funny thing is that lovely sweet smell from the Pampered Parlor is still
strongly clinging to me. I must present an odd contrast as I take my leave of the
Baby Bath.
There's time to sample at least two more attractions. There's no queue at the
Water Splash, and that might get my uniform cleaned up. So I hop into the
front carriage that is waiting to depart on a track that climbs steeply.
"You're brave," says a young man who wears only a swimsuit, in the second
carriage immediately behind me.
I turn round. He's my age and in answer to my inquiring look explains himself.
"Have you been on this before?" I shake my head. "I did wonder. You're in one
of the front two seats, they get the wettest."
"Me wanna get wet," I say simply.
"Ah, I only wondered. I suppose you do know what's in the water?"
The train whistles and moves forward slowly.
"You don't, do you?" he laughs, and says no more. I can't hear anyway with the
noise of the wheels on the tracks, and I am having to face forwards now.
At the top of the climb we are traveling slowly. I see the giant pond that we are
going to charge thru, and puzzle over what the young man had been trying to tell
me.
Now we are rushing downwards, some behind me scream, one shouts "duck!"
A giant mirror ahead of us enables me to see that many of my fellow
passengers are curled up, to avoid the splash, but I want to get
cleaned, so sit as the water drenches me. It smells none too pleasant.
In no time we have quit the pond, and are circling back to the start. Part of our
route enables those in the main area to see and admire us. I am sure they are
giving me a rousing applause. A long tunnel we enter, it's very warm, hot air
blowing, more warmth exudes from the seats. We are moving slowly, and by the
time we get back to the start, I'm dry.
"Well done," exclaims my friend. "Mind you do smell more than a bit!"
I nod, he is right, the traces of spaghetti and soup have all disappeared, but when
I sniff, I don't like it.
"Didn't you know?" he asks again. "No I can see you don't. Ha ha."
He walks away laughing, pointing to the sign by the entrance.
That I ought to have read. There I learn the awful truth.
The idea is to avoid the wet stuff. Unless, it says, you like being a naughty baby.
Well, I do not mind being a baby, but I would have thought twice had I read that
notice.
The water in this ride is from the men's urinals, thus it is diluted wee, a mix of water and wee that disgorges straight into the pond.
At least the notice also explains that the other toilets feed into the main sewer, so it is only liquid. I like the smell of stale wee, and though I admit I did smell, I am utterly daft enough to join for another go… but this time at the back. I like dodging some of the splash but still receiving some drops on my arms and my face. Lovely and dry I am, as I finally take my leave.
I know where to go- the bath, I don't wanna smell on the bus home.
As I wallow in another bath, I reflect that I can't do anything about my pongy
uniform. But I have an idea.
I am off now to see what the Sissy Sex Parlor is like. As you may realize by
now, for me it is not the juicy attraction it is for many, but tomorrow I'd like to
see what it is like. For now I stare at the entrance, at a couple who are entering
excitedly, and two others who are leaving looking very dazed.
Only sissies allowed, says the notice.
Only one visit- extra fee £50.
You must have visited before coming here, 1) the Pampered Parlor and 2) the
Sissy Wedding. And 3) you must be checked by the Sissy Doctor before you can
enter.
I'll definitely go tomorrow, I decide.
Just time to go to Kith Me Quick. No-one here, this is in the main open area,
four bodies thru one of whose faces you squeeze your face. I choose Little
Bopeep, and no sooner is my face in place, than music plays. That attracts a few
bystanders, and ere long one old man comes up and gives me a quick peck on the
cheek. A younger sissy girl in pink flannel flares gives me a longer kiss. Another
sissy kisses me on the lips. It's nice!
Nearly closing time. I see the Fortune Teller is free, so I call into her booth.
She's a buxom middle aged mum, with the traditional crystal ball.
"You wanna come again," she says, perhaps that's a good guess.
"Come tomorrow."
"Me is," I nod.
"Good girly. I see in my ball that you will have a super time. I see you in the
bath…. You're a boy!" she says. Perhaps I am disappointed, perhaps pleased she
knows. "I see you with a tall black lady, and I see her pleasuring herself on you."
That is all. That last prediction was a little scary. Dazed, liked
those exiting the Sex Parlor, I wend my way to the shop. I buy a new black and
white uniform to wear, wrap my old in a bag, and make my way safely back to
the caravan, impatient for tomorrow to dawn.
End of Part One
