A Sissy Fairy Tale

A Sissy Fairy tale
By Missy Crystal

Chapter 1. Josh to Josie.

I got pregnant when I was sixteen. I'm not sure about the father. My parents talked me into keeping him to be the son they always wanted. My father died when Joshua was three. My mother and I struggled on. My mother died last year. By then he was the son nobody wanted.

He was small for his age, so I kept him back a year. It didn't matter. He stayed small and never developed much body hair. The doctor said
something about a hormone deficiency. At sixteen he dropped out of school. On his own and with my lack of parenting skills he was in and out
of the juvenile court system. The leniency ended when he turned eighteen. The next time he appeared in court the judge made it clear, either he got counseling or he would be sentenced.

I looked in the phone book for therapists and randomly chose one. They weren't taking any new patients. I called another. They only accepted private insurance. I tried a few more. No, no and no. There was an ad for a clinic that specialized in behavioral modification. I called and explained the situation: Court ordered, yes. He turned eighteen in April. No, just him. Height and weight? Five foot four and about a hundred and twenty pounds. What? Where did we shop? Target, mostly. Oh, the department. Boy's usually. Is that important? Self-image. Uh-huh. Yes, good health. No, just me, I was a single parent. No, I have no family support, my parents are both dead. No, I have no brothers or sisters or anyone else who could help me. Yes, we could come in for an evaluation tomorrow at two o'clock. Nothing about payment. I made the appointment.

I did my best to make Josh presentable. Wrangling him into the barbershop was more effort than it was worth, so he had a tangled mop of hair hanging below his ears. He put up a fuss, but I made it clear. He went to the appointment or he went to jail. We took the bus and then walked a few blocks. We arrived at the address, a brick warehouse-like building. The numbers on the door matched, but there was no sign. I tried the door. It was locked. There was a black button next to it. I pushed it.

"Yes," a woman's voice responded.

I gave my name and said I had an appointment. The door buzzed opened. I heard a click as it locked behind us. There was no door handle to open it from the inside. Weren't you supposed to be able to get out if there was a fire? Their patients must have one hell of a behavioral
problem, I thought if, they needed this much security.

We followed the hallway to a waiting area. The floor was cement and the walls were painted white. There were two plastic chairs and a table. The magazines on the table all were for women. On the other side of the room was another door above which was a TV camera. I took a
seat. Josh paced around. After about five minutes he pulled on my arm and wanted to leave. I assumed that we were being watched and that it was some kind of test, so I reminded him of the alternative. He sat down sullenly.

I kept looking at my watch and up at the camera. After about fifteen minutes, the door opened. A well dressed woman walked out. "Hi, um
doctor?" I asked tentatively. She did not respond. "I'm Rebecca, um, Becky," I continued politely. "I called yesterday. I, um, we, um, we're
here for an appointment."

"This way." I motioned for Josh as I followed behind her. "No, not him." She pushed him back into the waiting room and closed the door. We
continued to an office. A table, desk chair and side chair were the only furniture. There were no papers on the desk, just a computer monitor, no books and no diplomas on the wall.

"You have a problem with your son. He can go to prison and be some black guy's girlfriend or you can let us turn him into a sissy.

"I'm sorry. I thought we were here for counseling. You want to make him gay?" I asked incredulously.

"Actually, a sissy. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

"Isn't it the same either way? I challenged her.

"Prison bitches are a dime a dozen. Sissies are in demand."

"How much in demand?"

"Our clients can be quite generous."

"How generous?"

"Very. Do I take it that my proposition interests you?"


"Excellent." She opened a drawer and took out a candy bar. "Take this out to him and we can get started."

"Candy won't work."

"A tranquilizer will."

"You want me to drug him?"

"Of course."

"Be right back."

On my return, the monitor showed him sitting on the chair glassy eyed with a trickle of drool running out of the corner of his mouth.

"How long will it last?"

"A few hours."

"Can I get more?"

"Keeping him docile is an important part of his training, but once he accepts being a sissy it won't be necessary."

"What makes you think he will accept it without being drugged?"

"They all do."


"We provide a service to a select group of men. They pay us a substantial membership fee and in return we arrange for discrete sex with sissies."


"No, you won't come here or see me again. What appears to be a school transport picks the sissies up and returns them when they're done. Where it goes and the identity of their admirers is confidential.

"What about payment?"

"One hundred dollars per hour. We schedule four one hour sessions per day, five days a week, fifty weeks a year. The weekends are yours and you can pick your two weeks off."

I tried to do a mental calculation, but I suck at math. She must have seen me struggling.

"One hundred dollars times four hours per day times five days per week times fifty weeks comes to one hundred thousand dollars per year."

My jaw dropped open. "Where do I sign?"

"You don't. When you get home, you will receive packages. Instructions for his training and everything you need will be in them.

"How long will it take?"

"Thirty days."

"Can I get an advance," I asked optimistically.


"What about the court?"

"As far as the authorities are concerned, he will be in a residential program for rehabilitation. We will take care of the paperwork."

Josh was still in la la land when we got home. I left him in his room and went to the kitchen for a glass of wine. I toasted myself and hoped that
whatever was in the packages would keep him under control. I didn't have long to wait. There was a knock on the door. A box was there. It had no name or address and whoever left it had disappeared.

I brought the box in and opened it up. It contained two CD's, three different color bottles, three medicine syringes with corresponding colored labels, a wooden paddle, a white and pink babydoll set with ruffled panties and frilly tops, a pacifier with an oversize hollow nipple, a box marked 'Suppositories', examination gloves, a black tapered plug and packets of KY jelly. I turned on the TV and loaded the first CD into the player:

Sissies must learn to be obedient. The brown bottle contains a strong laxative. It is tasteless. Fill the brown syringe to the top mark and add
it to his dinner. Within five minutes he will have uncontrollable diarrhea. Scold him for making a mess in his panties like a sissy. Put him over you knee and use the paddle. Give him ten strokes, alternating buttocks. Tell him that this is what happens to sissies who do not obey
their mummies. Afterwards, wash him standing in the bathtub while playing with his penis and inserting a finger in his bottom and repeating that mummy makes good sissies happy. Dress him in the white babydoll set. Fill the red syringe to the top mark from the red bottle and squirt it into his mouth. If he resists, pinch his nose shut until he opens it. Tell him that sissies obey their mummy or they get punished. The liquid
tastes bad, but it is harmless. Use the white syringe to fill the pacifier from the white bottle. It will seep out and numb his tongue. He
will suck on it to remove the bad taste. It also contains a tranquilizer. Before bed, use a glove to open one of the suppository packages and insert it at least half a finger's length into his bottom. It is a sedative which will put him to sleep within a few minutes and keep him asleep for
eight hours. Lubricate the plug and insert it fully. The sedative will make him compliant. Tell him that sissies obey their mummies and if they
are good sissies and do what their mummy says, their mummy will make them feel good. Leave the plug until dinner time and reinsert it at bedtime.

I put the brown bottle in the kitchen and the red bottle in the bathroom with the babydoll set. I filled the pacifier and put it on the nightstand in his bedroom with a suppository, a glove, the plug and the lubricant. Back downstairs, I poured myself another glass of wine and got ready. I
emptied a can of Spaghetti-O's in a bowl, heated it and added a syringe full of the laxative. I put the paddle on the counter within easy reach.

As he was finishing the last spoonful, he scrunched up his face, looked at me miserably and doubled over. From the sound and smell, the stuff
worked. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him towards me. "You made a mess in your panties like a sissy." He tried to pull
away, but I held on. "No you don't. You made a mess in your panties like a sissy and you're going to be punished." I pulled him over my knee,
grabbed the paddle and started smacking him. "One, two, three ..." I counted out as he was kicking and screaming.

I dragged the sobbing soon-to-be sissy upstairs and shoved him into the shower. The directions said a bathtub, but we didn't have one. "Stand still you sissy or you're going to get another spanking." I stripped off his clothes, took the soap and began to wash him, lightly rubbing his crotch and sliding my hand around to slip a soapy finger in his butt. He jumped at the intrusion. "You need to be clean inside and out. Now stay still or you will get another spanking. "Mummy makes good sissies feel good." I worked on him for about ten minutes, then took him out and toweled him off.

I took the ruffled white panties and slid them up his legs. "Sissies wear what their mummy tells them or they get punished," I warned him. Not that his compliance mattered. I had the red syringe ready. I grabbed him by the nose and when he opened his mouth to protest, I squirted it in. His eyes went wide and he started to sputter and make gurgling noises, drool running down his chin. "sissies do what their mummy tells them or they get punished." I slipped the frilly top on, stood him up and pulled him down the hall into my bedroom.

"Sissies obey their mummy and if they are good sissies they get rewarded." I picked up the loaded pacifier. "This will make your mouth better.
Open." He gave me a worried look. "Open." His mouth parted tentatively and I put it in. He made a face, expecting it to be more punishment.
Then he relaxed and started sucking. "Good sisses who obey their mummies get rewarded," I confirmed.

After sucking on the pacifier for a few minutes he calmed down. I left him propped against the pillows. Back in the kitchen, I poured
myself another glass of wine. Whatever else, the drugs were working and I wanted to find out what was in store for him the next day.

While he is asleep, take all of his clothes and toys out of his room. Refill his pacifier. Keep him in his babydoll set after he wakes up.
Tell him to lift up his top and show you his panties. Say that good sissies always wear pretty panties. Have him walk around the room
exposing his panties and follow your directions to hop, skip and twirl. Keep telling him that mummy likes him in his pretty panties. Take the
pink set. Tell him to take off the babydoll set he is wearing and put them on. Scold him for not obeying quickly enough and use it as a reason
to give him another syringe full from the red bottle. Say good sissies always do what their mummy tells them. Wait one minute. Ask him if he
wants his pacifier. Tell him that good sissies say 'Yes please mummy' when they are asked a question. Make him say it multiple times. Give him back the pacifier. If he takes it out or drops it, give him another syringe full from the red bottle. Wait a minute and ask him if he wants
his pacifier. If he has not learned his lesson, say the correct response, 'Yes please mummy," and make him say it multiple times. Keep the pacifier in for fifteen minutes every hour for maximum effect. Have him dance around showing off his panties for thirty minutes. Swat him with the paddle if he resists or stops. He can have a normal breakfast. After breakfast, exchange this CD for CD two. Repeat the panty show until dinner time.

Since he was in my bedroom, I didn't need to wait until he was asleep to clean out his room. I gathered everything up, put it all in a trash bag
and brought it down to the dumpster. I laid out the pink babydoll set for him to wear in the morning. He was still slumped against the pillows when I looked in. I went to the kitchen and poured another glass of wine.

I stalled until ten o'clock and then moved him back to his own room. I took out the pacifier and rolled him onto his stomach. He tried to turn
over. "sissies who don't do what their mummy tells them get punished. Do you want more medicine?" He stopped struggling. I got the suppository ready and stuck it in up to my first knuckle. He bucked at the intrusion. "Stay still," I warned him. After a few minutes he started to fall asleep. I lubed the plug, shoved it into place, pulled up his panties and rolled him on his back.

After dinner I played the second CD. He had to listen to a nursery rhyme and repeat it with a proper lisp: Mawy hadth a widdle wamb, ith fweece wath thwhite ath thnow. Evwy where that Mawy wenth the widdle wamb would go.

The alarm went off at six o'clock. He was still asleep. I made myself a cup of strong black coffee to make up for over-celebrating with the wine. When I checked again, he was just waking up. I picked up his pacifier. "Open." He was still half asleep. "Good sissies do what their mummy tells them or they get punished." I put down the pacifier and picked up the red syringe. "Open." He started to cry. "Sissies do what their mummy tells them. Open." He gave a wimper. I pushed the syringe between his lips and squirted. "Good sissies do what their mummy tells them."

"Do you want your pacifier?" He nodded. "Good sissies say yes, please mummy." I held the pacifier out. "Good sissies say yes, please mummy." I picked up the red syringe. "Good sissies say, yes, please mummy." He broke into tears. I put the syringe down and picked up the pacifier. "Do you want you pacifier?"

"Wthwfftmph," was all he could manage with the residual effects of the syringe.

"Do you want your pacifier?"


"Do you want your pacifier?"

"Yewth," he struggled with the words, "pweath." He closed his eyes and concentrated. "Mmummth," he finally managed.

I helped him into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet. He might as well start peeing like a girl. "Good sissies sit down to use the toilet."
He still had the plug in and didn't understand. "Just pee. Bad sissies who don't use the toilet and wet their panties get a spanking." When he
finished. I gave him a piece of toilet paper. "Wipe yourself. I don't want pee in your pretty panties." He looked at me blankly. I took the
toilet paper and dabbed. "Pull up your pretty panties."

Back in my bedroom, he pranced about under my supervision. Every so often I made up an excuse to swat him with the paddle. "Twirl for me. Faster. Again. Good sissies love to show off their pretty panties." Whack, whack. Between the tranquilizer and his performance, after half an hour I could see he was tired. "Will you be a good sissy and do what mummy tells you?" He nodded. I took the pacifier out of his mouth. "Use your sissy words."

"Ummm," he mumbled.

I picked up the red syringe. He cringed back and started to cry.

I put the syringe down. "Good sissies say yes, please mummy."

"Yewth, pweath mummy."

I took him to the kitchen and gave him breakfast. When he finished, I gave him back the pacifier to suck on. I brought him into the living room
and started the CD player. "Listen." He looked confused. The CD played the nursery rhyme again and again. I stopped it and took out his
pacifier. "Sissies do what their mummy tells them or they get punished." He looked worried. "Say Mary had a little lamb like you just heard." I
picked up the red syringe.

"Mahwry hadth a ..." He paused trying to remember the words.

"You know Mary had a little lamb. Say it."

"Mahwry hadth a widdle wamb," he continued. "Ith, ith ..." He started to cry. I put down the syringe and started the CD. After it played a few
more times, I told him to try again. He did better. By the fifth time he was able to repeat it. I let him have his pacifier to keep his mouth numb
and refresh the tranquilizer. We continued to alternate between reciting and the pacifier all morning.

After lunch, I had him change into the white babydoll set and show off his frilly sissy panties. We did that off and on for an hour, took a break
and then spent another hour working on his speech. In the afternoon I let him relax. We followed the same nighttime routine, dosing his meal with the laxative, punishing him for messing his panties, rewarding him in the shower and inserting the suppository and plug at bedtime.

The woman was right. By the tenth day of following the instructions, Josh was completely compliant. He grimaced, but opened up for his punishment, he was resigned to being spanked for making a mess in his panties after dinner, changed nighties, showed off his pretty panties, used his sissy words and accepted his suppository and plug without resistance. All three bottles were almost empty, so I expected to receive more supplies and instructions.

In the morning, there was a knock on the door and another anonymous box was there. It was larger than the first. Inside were two CD's, a refill for the pacifier and a number of paper wrapped packages. I took one out. It was labeled 'Catholic Schoolgirl'. Inside was a plaid jumper, short-sleeved white cotton blouse with a peter pan collar, white cotton panties, white ankle socks and black leather Mary Janes. 'Swimwear' had a tank suit, skimpy two piece and a micro bikini. 'Japanese School Girl' had a blue pleated skirt, white sailor pullover top, red scarf, pink hipster panties with a bow, blue knee socks and black flats. 'Party' had a frilly pink dress with full petticoats that ballooned out a short skirt, white nylon panties with three rows of ruffles across the bottom and frilly lace around the waist and leg openings, white nylon ankle socks with ruffled lace tops and pink T-strap shoes. Underneath the packages was a box labeled 'Baby' with cloth diapers, diaper pins, pink plastic pants, a romper with a snap crotch, a baby bottle and a container marked 'Formula'. Another box had a doll with doll clothes that matched the costumes. The final box had fleet enemas.

It was going to be fun dressing Josh up in girl's clothes, but I wasn't enthusiastic about treating him like a baby. My mother handled that. I
shrugged. They knew what they were doing. I played the first CD:

Sissies must learn to be feminine. Use a girl's name and female references. Ask her repeatedly to say her name and whether she is a girl.
Spank her for not remembering. Roleplaying is a necessary part of her activity. Dress her in the Catholic schoolgirl costume. Tell her that
good sissys love to play dress up. Describe each item as you dress her so that she will be familiar with wearing girl's clothes. Undress her and dress her again. Ask her to tell you about her clothes as you put them on. Have her dress and undress herself repeatedly. Compliment her on being a very pretty sissy. Give her the doll. Tell her that good sissies love to play with their dolly. Have her dress the dolly in the
same outfit she is wearing. Have her undress and dress the dolly. Tell her that good sissies always have their dolly with them or they get a
spanking. Repeat for each of the outfits. Continue with the pacifier and her sissy speech program. Follow her nighttime bath and plug routine. Put her in diapers, plastic pants and the romper to sleep in. Fill the baby bottle with milk and add a teaspoon of the formula. It contains a
diuretic and sedative to replace the suppository. When she wakes up in the morning, keep her in the diapers until she wets them. Encourage her to use them by saying the good sissies use their diapers to go potty. Change her and give her an enema. Tell her that good sissys always keep themselves clean. After she expels the enema replace the plug.

"Good Morning Josie, time for good girls to get up." She looked confused. "Your name is Josie and you are a girl." I put the pacifier in her mouth. "Your name is Josie and your are a girl." She Sucked on her pacifier. I took out the pacifier. "Say my name is Josie and I am a girl." No response. "Sissies who do not say what their mummy tells them get a spanking. Now," I said sternly, "say my name is Josie and I am a girl."

"My name ith Jothie."

"I am a girl. Say it."

"I'm a girl."

"Again. My name is Josie and I am a girl."

"My name ith Jothie and I'm a girl."

"Good girl. I have something special for you to wear today. This is a jumper. Say jumper." She repeated it. "Say mummy please may I wear my pretty jumper." I waited. "Sissies say what their mummy tells them or they get a spanking. Now, say mummy please may I wear my pretty jumper."

"Mummy, pweath may I wear my pwetty jumper."

"Yes, Josie, you can wear your pretty jumper."

I went through the same routine with the rest of her outfit. It took about a half hour before she was able to identify them: "Pwetty pantieth.
Jumper. Blouth. Thox. Mahwry Jaynth." I got her dressed, then undressed and dressed again. Then I had her dress and undress herself
until I she was able to tell me what she was wearing and put it on without coaching. She looked like an adorable schoolgirl.

After breakfast I had her change into the other costumes. "My name ith Jothie. I'm a girl. Thkirt, dweth, blouth, pwetty pantieth. Pwease may
I wear my pwetty clowth," we drilled as she danced and pranced for me, lifting her skirt to show off her panties. After a beak and session with
her pacifier, we did a half hour of the sissy speech CD. Then lunch and dolly playtime.

I was surprised how easily Josie was being transformed. I never thought about having a daughter, but then she wasn't really a girl I reminded
myself. She was what the woman had said, a sissy. And a source of future income. At least for me, the best of both worlds.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was time for the next stage of the program. The small box contained three CDs, a pink
bottle and corresponding syringe, a penis shaped pacifier, a box labeled 'Trainer', a realistic pink rubber penis, a bottle of lubricant with a dispenser top and a larger plug.

I went to her room and checked on Josie. She was sitting on the floor with her legs spread open playing with her dolly. If she was a girl, I
would have explained that proper young ladies keep their legs together. Given that part of her training was to show off her panties, there was no need. "Thith ith a jumper. Thee, it goeth wif thith pwetty blouth. And theeth pwetty pantieth are jutht wike the oneth I'm wearing." She held up the panties to show the doll. She looked at me in the doorway. "Hewwo mummy."

I went back to the living room and put the first CD in the player:

Sissies must learn to please their daddies. Replace the white bottle with the pink bottle for filling her new pacifier. It has a lower dose of
tranquilizer and will not numb her tongue, so that she can use it more frequently and work on her oral skills. Assemble the stool. Instructions
are included. Have her watch and follow CD two every morning, afternoon and evening. Tell her that sissies never ever touch themselves without permission and punish her if she does. Continue with her other daily routines, except change the baby routine to the morning to teach her that watersports are part of playtime and not bedtime. Empty out any remaining contents of the brown, red and white bottles and syringes, wash them out and discard them.

I opened the stool kit and read the instructions. When assembled, it was two feet high with a threaded hole in the center, and four black rubber
pegs with rounded tops, increasing in length and diameter, and a bolt in the bottom that screwed into the hole. The training purpose of the
attachments and bottle of lubricant was obvious. I changed to CD two. It showed sissies in frilly party dresses lifting up their skirts, pulling
down their panties and pegging themselves to a slow count of ten, resting and repeating. It struck me how careful the Society was about protecting itself. By themselves, the CD's were just wanking material and the other items could come from any adult store.

"Josie, come here." She came to me holding her dolly. I took the pacifier out of her mouth and held out the new one I had filled. "Open." She looked at it and hesitated. "Good sissies obey their mummy or they get punished. Open." I watched as she tentatively sucked on it and then
relaxed. "Good sissies who obey their mummy get rewarded. Keep sucking." I waited a minute then I took it out. "Do you want your pacifier back?" She knew the correct answer.

"Josie, we have a new sissy game to play. Turn around and bend over." I removed her plug. As she watched, I attached the smallest of the pegs to the stool, pumped on lubricant and pointed to it. "I want you to do just like the video. The peg goes in you bottom." I guided her. "Good sissies do what their mommy tells them or they get punished. Sit down on the peg." I held on to her shoulders and guided her as her as she lowered herself. She gasped as the peg went in. I pushed her down until she was seated and started the CD. "Do just like the good sissy in the cartoon. Stand up and then sit down again. "Up." I kept pressure on her shoulders, so that she squatted over the plug. "Down. One. Up. Down. Two. Up. Down. Three. Keep going." I rewarded her with milk and a cookie after she completed the first round. By the end of her fourth day on the stool, she was impaling herself easily on the largest of the pegs.

Whether it was the drugs, the program or her nature, by the third week, Josie was completely submissive. I wondered what it would have been like if she had been born female. Would we have done mother and daughter things? Being a girl didn't help me get along with my parents. Having a sissy was better.

The next box arrived on Sunday. It just held a small black leather shoulder bag. Inside the bag was an envelope with instructions:

Dress your sissy in her Catholic school uniform and have her carry this bag. Be with her on the sidewalk in front of your apartment building at
8:00 AM on Monday. A van will pick her up. When the door opens, walk her to the van, put her in the seat closest to the door and buckle her seat belt. Do NOT get in the van and do NOT speak with the driver. The van will drop her off at 3:00 PM. Check her bag for further instructions when she returns. Continue with her regular home routine.

The woman at the interview said that it was a one month's program, so I assumed Josie was going to get some actual sex training. Would she enjoy being a sissy? Did it matter? Not really. We needed the money.

Chapter 2.

"Josie, tomorrow you will be going to school."

"I don't wike thkool."

"A special school."

"I don't wike thkool," she repeated.

I looked at her sternly. "I expect you to be a good sissy.

"Yeth, mummy."

"It's time for your sissy videos and training. Pull down your panties and lets get started"

"Yeth, mummy."

In the morning, I prepared her as instructed. After breakfast, I put the pacifier in her bag and walked her outside. Waiting on the sidewalk, she
looked like any other girl on her way to Catholic school. At eight o'clock a white van pulled up. It had a crest and 'St. Trinian's Academy' in blue and gold letters on the door. The side windows were tinted and from what I could see through the windshield, the driver was in uniform.
I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The side door slid open. There was a partition blocking off the front and no one else was inside.
I buckled Josie into the seat.

"Mummy?" She looked at me nervously.

"It's okay, Josie. Just be a good sissy and do what you're told. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Yeth, mummy."

I stepped back, the door slid shut and the van pulled out. As it did, a terrible through crossed my mind. What if they didn't bring her back? I
just put my daughter, whatever, in a strange van. I turned around to see the license plate, but by then it was too late. I panicked. If she was
kidnapped, what would I tell the police? I met an unidentified woman in a pretend clinic who sent me instructions to turn my son into a sissy, which I did, and then I delivered him to them for a promise of two thousand dollars per week. How stupid could I be. Nobody was going to pay that kind of money when they could have Josie for free. Dejectedly, I walked back to my apartment.

I kept looking at the clock. At two forty-five I gave a sigh of resignation, went downstairs and nervously paced the sidewalk. I looked at my phone. It was two fifty-five. No van. At three, I panicked. Maybe there was traffic. I looked down the street expectantly. Then I saw a white van approaching. I walked to the curb. I saw the St. Trinian's name and crest as it pulled over. The door opened, a girl was in the seat. I didn't recognize her at first.


"Yeth, mummy, ith me."

I unbuckled the seat belt and took her out. The door slid shut and the van left. Whatever my fears, the Society was the real deal. I hurried
her upstairs. Inside, I admired the changes. Her hair had been permed into soft waves with wispy bangs and lightened to a honey blonde. The hairdresser knew their stuff, the look was innocent and beautiful. He nails had been manicured and painted with a bubblegum pink polish, she had a bubblegum scented pale pink lip gloss and her face had a pink glow.

"Wook, mummy." She pulled back her hair to show me two gold heart studs in hear ears. "Ewwings." She was excited. "I had the betht time. Am I going to thkool tomowwow? Can, I, pwease?"

"Do you like being a sissy?"

"Oh, yeth mummy. I wike it."

"Yes, Josie, you are going to school tomorrow, but we have to do your homework now."

"Homework, whath thaht?"

"Being a good sissy and doing what your mummy tells you."

"Yeth, mummy."

"Now, go change into your party dress and then watch your videos."

"Yeth, mummy."

I was so taken with her makeover that I forgot to check the bag. There was a hairbrush, a bottle of nail polish and remover, clear and white bottles of solution, a tube of lip gloss, two prescription bottles and an envelope with instructions:

Swab your sissy's ears with the solution in the clear bottle and rotate her earrings morning and night. Have her brush her hair 100 strokes at
night and in the morning. Have her practice applying the lip gloss and nail polish. Sissies must be well groomed. At night, teach her how to
properly cleanse her face and use the astringent in the white bottle. Sissy's must have clear skin. Your sissy is to start on hormones. Give
her one of the purple capsules and one of the white tablets every day. Sissies must be hairless. Teach her to shave her pubic hair, underarms and legs. Be on the sidewalk in front of your building at 8:00 AM for pickup. The van will drop her off at 3:00 PM. Continue with her daily program.

Josie enthusiastically took to her beauty routine. She freshened her lip gloss, practiced removing and applying her nail polish., and constantly
fussed with her hair. From her appearance, you would never guess what she was packing in her panties.

Tuesday morning, she was dressed in her school uniform and waiting on the sidewalk. The van arrived, I put her in and off she went. Every day for the past three weeks I had been occupied with supervising Josie's training, so I was stuck at home. I spent yesterday anxiously waiting to see if she came back. Today was the first time I had nothing to do.

I looked at my phone. It was only ten o'clock. Josie hadn't started earning any money, so I couldn't afford to go shopping. When she did,
what would I buy. A big TV, clothes, shoes, jewelry, oh, and a car. No more busses. Could I? Maybe I should learn about managing money. I
couldn't afford cable or the internet, so the only way I could use my laptop was at a coffee shop with wi-fi.

I got my purse and took the bus downtown. I found a Starbucks and ordered a latte. I started surfing. What I found was that banks were suspicious of cash and had to report large deposits. I would also have to show where the money came from for taxes. There had to be a way to do this. Drug dealers and bank robbers had cash. What did they do with it? I wasn't that smart or that devious. Maybe what I should do was finish high school. There were lots of online programs to get my GED and it would give me something to do while Josie was out working.

Josie was dropped off by the school van. When we got to the privacy of our apartment, I asked her about her day.

"Oh, mummy, I had the betht time."

"You said that yesterday."

"Yeth, but today I pwayed wif my thithy thithters."

"Sissy sisters?" Tell me about them."

"Thewy're werry pwetty, wike me."

"You think you're pretty?"

"Yeth, mummy, I'm a pwetty thithy." she confirmed with a big smile.

"What are your sissy sisters' names?"

"Andwea, Thally, Thuthie, Mawia and Patthy."

"What did you do with them?"

"They hugged and kithed me hehwo and we pwayed thithy gameth."

Having friends and being included in their activities was something new for Josie. "What kind of sissy games?"

"Firtht, our teather had us undwess each other."

"Was your teacher a man or a woman?"

"Theth a weal woman, mummy, like you."

"Then what?"

"We pwayed wifff each other's penithes to make thiffies."

"Did you get a stiffie?"

"Oh, yeth mummy. Mawie and Thally wubbed me. It wath wery nith."

Even better being the center of attention. "Was that all?"

"No. mummy. After we got stiffies we wicked them wike wowwy popth and thucked on them. Andwea and Thally made cummieth in my mouf."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"And did you make cummies?"

"Yeth, mummy. I made cummies in Patthy's mouf."

"Anything else?"

"Oh, yeth, mummy. Our teather took out our pwugs and gave uth new oneth. Thiny thilver and mine hath a bwue jewel. Thewy're wery pwetty. She thaid our daddies like pretty jewelth in our bottomth.

"Well, you had a busy day. A good sissy gets rewarded. How about milk and a cookie before you start your homework?

"Yeth, pweath mummy."

"Okay, go put on your party dress and then come back." She turned to leave. "Wait. Lift up your jumper and pull down your panties. I want to
see your new plug.

"Yeth, mummy."

Friday was the last day of Josie's sissy training. She dressed in her school uniform. By now she did it herself, along with the other routines.
She really was an adorable girl or at least she would be, if she really was a girl. The school van picked her up. I went to the coffee shop and
checked out GED courses. I also stopped by a bank and got some information about opening a checking account. I was waiting on the
sidewalk when Josie was dropped off.

"So, Josie, did you play with your sissy sisters today?"

"No. mummy, I pwayed wiff my daddy."

"Just you and him?"

"Yeth,, mummy."

"Firtht, my teather took out my pwug and checked my pentih and puthy. Then I thaht in daddy's wap and he wubbed me awl over and kithed me."

"He kissed you on the mouth?"

"Yeth, mummy. We kithed and he put hith tongue in my mouf."

"What else did you do with him?"

"He kithed and wcked my nippleth and my penith. " Her eyes widened. "He kiithed and licked my bottom and put hith tongue and fingerth in too." She paused and smiled. "He thpanked me."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeth, mummy, a widdle, but," she looked down, "I kinda wiked it. It made my bottom feel all hot and tingly."

"Did he do anything else to your bottom."

"Yeth, mummy. I wubbed and wicked his penith and he got a stiffie. I thaht in his wap and he put it in my bottom. I bounthed wike on my thtool and he made cummies in me and then he put it in my mouf and I cweaned it off." My teather thaid I did a good job and daddy thaid I was the betht thitthy ever," she said proudly. "We snuggled for a widdle while. I thucked on his penith and he made more cummies. I thwollowed motht of it, but there was awot and thum dwibbled out."

Looking closely I could see the four one hundred dollar bills. "Josie, I am very proud of you too." I gave her a hug. "It's Friday night. You
don't have to do your homework. Go upstairs, get undressed and I will wash you off. Then I will dress you and we can go to the mall. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yeth pweath mummy. Can I have eyth kweam?"

"Yes, Josie, you can have ice cream. Now scoot." I gave her a swat on the bottom and she gave a cry. "Oh, sorry, I forgot you got a spanking."

'Ith okay, mummy." She grinned and scampered off.

I washed off the dried cum, used the astringent to give her skin a pink glow and brushed out her hair. By now she was routinely applying the lip gloss. Her school uniform would be conspicuous on a Friday night. The last thing I wanted to do was to have a conversation about religious school with some random mother. The Japanese schoolgirl outfit had a navy pleated skirt, which I paired with the white panties, white ankle socks, Mary Janes and white short-sleeved blouse from her Catholic school uniform.

"Josie, when we get to the mall, I want you to hold my hand the whole time and I don't want you to talk to anyone, unless I tell you to. Remember, good sissies obey their mummy."

"Yeth, mummy."

We were off for our first outing as mother and daughter. Other than my trips to the coffee shop and Josie's going to school, as it were, we had
been cooped up in the apartment for a month. It was nice to be out with normal people, even if we weren't normal people. The bus dropped us off at the mall and we walked hand in hand to the entrance. Josie had a cute sway I hadn't noticed before. I wasn't sure whether it was the plug or just something she picked up as part of her training. "Do you like going out with mummy?" She gave me a questioning look. "Good girl, but you can answer me."

"Yeth, mummy."

Our first stop was the department store. Josie need a wardrobe and I didn't have a lot of money, so I had to find multipurpose outfits. Josie
held onto my hand as I moved from rack to rack. I let go of her and picked out a jean jumper and pink jersey with ruffled short sleeves. We
went into a dressing room and she tried them on.

"Josie, do you like the jumper and top? You can answer me."

"Yeth, mummy. Can I wear them?"

"You mean now?"



We walked out to the sales counter. "My daughter likes her outfit so much she wants to wear it. Can you cut off the tags, please."

"Of course." The saleswoman looked approvingly. "You're very pretty," she looked down at Josie, but she didn't answer. "Is she a model?'

Her question caught me by surprise. I hadn't thought of Josie that way.

"No, she's very shy."

"I see," taking Josie's silence as confirmation. "Too bad, she's a natural."

"I need to shop for some underwear too. Do you want me to pay for what she's wearing first?"

"Oh, no problem. I can ring them up together. Go ahead. You can leave what she was wearing here while you shop."

I wanted Josie to keep feeling ultra-feminine, so I got a package of nylon panties in pastel colors with white lace trim, three matching AA bras with lace straps and bows, three pairs of pastel nylon ankle socks and a pink knee length nightie with a white dancing unicorn and rainbow.

The saleswoman admired the selection, "My goodness, she is a girly girl." And to Josie, "You're very lucky to have a mommy who buys you such pretty things." She bagged them with the other clothes. "She's such a doll." She looked around cautiously. "I'm going to give you my store discount."

"Thank you, that's very nice."

"No problem. If you come back, ask for me. I'm Tammy." She waved as we left. "Bye, sweetie."

The shoes with her outfits were sufficient, but I wanted to get some accessories. I picked out a pink Alice headband, a package of pink hair
clips, a gold heart necklace and a matching bracelet. Of course, Josie wanted to wear everything. She turned heads as we walked through the mall.

Josie looked up at me expectantly. "Yes, Josie."

"I hath to go to the baffwoom."

I found the ladies room and took her into a stall. I tried to remember my own training about how to hover over public toilets, but then Josie didn't have the same kind of exposure. I let her sit and go, then wipe herself off. I supervised as she washed her hands. "Fix your hair and lipstick." I took a brush and the lip gloss out of my purse and handed them to her. A woman standing next to us watched as she preened and smiled at me approvingly."

Josie looked up at me again. I nodded.

"Eyth kweam pweath, mummy?"

"Yes, Josie," I looked around to see if anyone could hear. "Good sissies get rewarded by their mummy." We walked to the food court. "What flavor do you want?"

"Chocowate, pweath, wiff spwinkles."

I got her a kiddy dish and a dish of rum raisin for myself. I guided her to a table. "Put the dish on the table and smooth out your skirt, before
you sit." She looked confused. I put down my dish and slid my hands under my butt and then sat. "Now you." She copied me. "Good girl. That way you don't bunch up your skirt or get it wrinkled. And good girls keep their legs together and cross them at the ankles, so people can't see their panties."

She looked at me questioningly. "Yes."

"I hath pwetty pantieth."

I leaned over and whispered. "Sissy's show off their panties, but girls don't. Your daddies might like to see them, but showing you panties in
public is naughty."

When we got home, there was a large box waiting at the door. Inside was a pink carry-on suitcase with wheels and instructions:

Dress your sissy in her Catholic school outfit. Pack up all of your sissy's other outfits and put them in the suitcase. Have her bring the
suitcase with her on Monday. Be on the sidewalk at 8 AM. The van will pick her up at 8 AM and drop her off at 3 PM.

What did they want with the clothes, I wondered? Was Josie going to wear them for her daddies or were they trying to prevent me from freelancing? Did the Society know that we went shopping to replace them? Were they
watching us? I resolved to be careful about what I said and did.

I got Josie ready and took the suitcase outside. "Whath that, mummy?"

"Your clothes in case your daddies want you to dress up for them."

"Dwess up for my daddyth?"

"I don't know Josie. Good sissies do what they're told."

"Yeth, Mummy."

The van arrived. I put her in with the suitcase. I had the rest of the day to myself. I thought that she'd be able to wear the shoes from the
outfits, but now she only had the Mary Janes, so I went back to the mall. I bought her a pair of black ballet flats and a pair of pink canvas shoes
with sparkles. I spent the rest of the day in the coffee shop looking at GED courses.

In order to sign up, I needed a credit or debit card. Without a job, I couldn't get a credit card and a debit card went with a bank account.
What I needed was some type of work that I could do at home. I could sell things online, but that meant I'd have to find something to pretend to make or buy to resell. Looking out the window, I saw a young woman walking five dogs. I got up and went after her. The dogs stopped to
sniff a mailbox. She told me she made about $100 a day walking the dogs and some other dogs she took care of during the day. She gave me a card: 'Pat's Pets, Sitting and Walking.' Okay, doggie daycare it was. I went to the bank and got the paperwork to apply for a personal and business account.

Josie was dropped off as usual. Her hair was matted, there was dried cum on her face and cum stains on her dress. All in all, I would say she had a full day, confirmed by the four hundred dollar bills in her bag. I hustled her into our apartment before anyone passing by got curious.
Sitting in the kitchen with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies, I asked about her day.

"Oh, mummy, I had the beth time."


"Yeth, but today I pwayed wif my daddies."

"What did you do with them?"

"Daddy undwessed me and kithed my nippleth and my penith until it wath thiff and thucked so I made cummieth. Then he took out my pwug and wicked my bottom awl over and made my puthy wet. I thaht in hith wap and he put his penith in and wifted me up and down until he made cummieth. And then he put hith penith in my mowth and I wicked it orf. He thaid I wath a wery good thtithy and kithed me.

She stopped to dunk a cookie.

"What else?"

"I had a bweak and wathed a video about themaleth having thex. They make loth of noith." She laughed. Then I dweathed in my baby clowths. The wady in the woom helpth me wif my diaper and pwastic panth. Daddy wathed me ath I kwaled awound, pwayed wiff toyth and dwank a bottle. He took off my baby dweath and pithed in my diaper.

"Did you like that?"

"Yeth, mummy, it felt nith and warm."

"Go on."

"Thath awl."

"You didn't have sex with him?"

"No, mummy, he pwayed wif himthelf and made cummies in my diaper.

"Okay, then what."

"Daddy took my diaper wiff him and weft. I went back to the woom and wathed the video and then put on my thkool clowth."

"The ones you have on?"

"Yeth, mummy. Daddy and I pwayed thkool. He wath my teacher and I wath naughty and he pulled down my pantieth and thpanked me. Then he wubbed my bottom and took out my pwug and puthed a penith in me."

"His penis?"

"No, mummy, wike on my thtool, but it wath bwack. He puthed it in and out and I got a thiffie and dwibbled cummieth. Then I wubbed and thucked on hith penith and he made hith cummies on me. He thaid I wooked wike a weal thithy covered wiff hith thperm," she said proudly.

"And did you have another daddy?"

"Yeth, mummy. It wath the betht one. I wore my party dweth and my thithy thithter Patthy was wiff me. Patthy pwayed wiff hith penith and I thaht on hith faith with my pantieth on. He wicked my ath and cwotch and made them wet. Then he made cummies in Patthy's mowth. Daddy told patthy not to thwallow and told me to kith her and puth my tongue in her mowth with hith cummies in it. I wike cummie kitheth. They're nith and juithy. Then daddy thucked on our penithes until we made cummies in hith mowth and we all kithed each other some more."

"You had a very busy first day."

"Yeth, mummy." She looked hesitant.

"What is it?"

"Do I haff to do my thithy homework? My bottom is thore."

"I don't wonder. It got quite a workout. That's enough for today."

Every weekday for the next month she put on her Catholic school uniform, was picked up by the St. Trinian's van, was dropped off in the afternoon, brought home four hundred dollar bills in her bag and enthusiastically told me about the variety of sex she had with her daddies. I opened a bank account and deposited a few hundred dollars every week. The rest I put in a shoe box and hid it in the closet. I signed up for my GED course and decided that when I finished, I would get a degree in education. In the afternoon we watched TV or a video and on the weekends we went clothes shopping until she had a wardrobe of skirts, dresses, shoes and underwear that any girl would envy.

Chapter 3.

As the months went by and the shoe box filled up, I sent a note to the Society that I wanted Josie to take a week off. I found a note in her
bag when she returned:

Your request for a one-week pause in your sissy's schedule is approved. Sissies need milky white skin. Plan accordingly.

A few days after we returned, I got another note from the Society. I was to go to the clinic at ten o'clock on Friday. Everything was going so
well, I hoped it wasn't bad news. As before, I rang the bell and responded to the woman's voice on the intercom. The door clicked open and
I proceeded to the reception area. Nothing had changed. I took a seat.

A few minutes later the same woman I met with before came out. "Good morning," she greeted me and held the door open. Inside she pointed to the chair in front of the desk and sat down on the other side. She took a laptop out of a drawer, opened it, typed something and turned the screen around. From my online courses I recognized the silhouette which appeared when the other person had their camera off. The woman got up and left. I stared at the screen and held my breath.

A man's voice said, "I want to make you a business proposition."

It didn't sound like bad news. I exhaled. "Okay, I'm listening."

"I missed Josie while she was away. I want to buy her."

"She's not for sale."

"Money is no object."

"She's not for sale," I reiterated. "I don't care how much money you have."

"You're already selling her. I just want her exclusively."

"If that's all you want, then just pay the Society for the hours that she's there. Problem solved."

"The Society's hours are not convenient."

"I suppose I could arrange for you to visit when she's home."

"That would not be discrete or convenient either."

"So you want her available all day every day."

"And all night."

"You want her to live with you?"



"One million dollars."


"Isn't having one man who cares about Josie better than many who don't?"

"This isn't about love. It's about sex and one prick is the same as

"There's no need for insults. If I did not have good intentions, we would not be having this conversation."

He was right. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just meant that Josie seems to like all of her daddies. She's never told me
about having a preference for one in particular."

"Two million dollars."

"No. I'm not selling her." I stood up and started to leave.

"Sit down," he commanded. "There has to be a way for us to work this out. If it isn't about money, then what?"

"I don't want to give Josie up."

"Okay, if you don't want to sell Josie, how about renting her to me."

"What's the difference?"

"You rent an apartment, don't you?"


"You don't own it. You just get to use it for a period of time and then you have to give it back in good condition.

"Go on."

"So, what if I take Josie for a year and then give her back to you. If she's happy, we can talk about a more permanent arrangement."

I thought about it. "If this is like renting an apartment, then what about month to month," I bargained.

"I do a lot of traveling and I don't know how much time I would have with her."

"Three months then."

"Six months."


"I will have cash for you when Josie is picked up on Monday. You don't have to pack anything. I will provide it."

"We haven't talked about how much."

"You said it wasn't about the money. I will pay you more than Josie makes now."

"You will pay me a lot more than she makes now," I challenged him. "She only works four hours a day and five days a week. You want her twenty- four seven. Five thousand a week for twenty-five weeks. The last week she's with me."




"Agreed. And I don't want cash. I already have a shoe box full of money I can't spend."

"What do you want."

"A trust fund."

"A what?"

"For Josie, with me as trustee. You said you cared about her. Pretty sissies grow up to be tranny prostitutes. I want Josie to be able to choose her own life."

"For Josie's retirement," he said with a laugh. "Agreed."

And I want it legit. All of the taxes paid."

"That makes it a lot more expensive."

"Money's no object. You said so."

"It will take some time to set up the trust fund. The papers will be dropped off for you to sign and you can bring them with you when you pick
up the checkbook at the bank. In the meantime, Josie can stay home. I will arrange it with the Society. Thank you and goodbye." The woman was sitting in the waiting room as I left.

It wasn't the best solution, but whoever he was, he must have clout with the Society if they were willing to give up Josie and he was right that
one man was better than many, she would be paid much better for probably not much more time, I didn't have to worry about hiding the money and it was only for six months. I thought about how I would tell Josie. A year ago, it wouldn't have mattered. I would've been happy to get rid of her, let alone get paid for it. Now I was sad to lose her even temporarily.

After the usual milk and cookies on her return, I brought up the subject. "Josie, do you have a special daddy?"


"A daddy who you like the most."

She scrunched up her face trying to decide. After a minute she shook her head. "No, mummy."

"Well, one of them likes you so much he wants you to stay with him."

"Thtay whiff him? At thkool?"

"No, In his house."

"Will I come home to thweep?"


"I wike wiffing here," she said sadly.

"I know Josie, but good sissies do what their mummy tells them."

She sighed. "Yeth, mummy."

I tried to cheer her up. "You won't go to school this week. We can spend it together. Won't that be nice."

"Yeth, mummy."

By now Josie and I were comfortable about her being in public. We had lunch and dinner out, saw a movie and, of course, went shopping. On
Monday morning I woke her up early. We had a nice breakfast. She got dressed and we went to wait on the sidewalk. The van arrived. There was a packet of papers on the seat with my name on it. Josie got in, the door closed, the van pulled out and I waved goodbye, although I knew she
couldn't see me through the dark glass.

I went back in and crossed off day one of the calendar I bought. Over the next few weeks, I got cable and internet and upgraded my laptop and TV. The electronics store was happy to take cash. So was the car lot salesman, nothing flashy that would draw attention, and the furniture store. I picked out a white and gold French provincial set for Josie's room, with a canopy bed and big mirror on a stand. With nothing but time and being able to work from home, I completed my GED and started taking college courses. The six months went by faster than I expected.

I wasn't sure about the details for Josie's return and I had no way to get in touch with anyone to ask. I guessed that it would be on Monday
morning. I was waiting on the sidewalk at a quarter to eight, anxiously watching the traffic. At eight I saw a white van approaching and was
relieved to see the St. Trinian's crest and name as it pulled over,

"Hehwo, mummy," she greeted me with a big hug.

"I missed you Josie."

"I mithed you too, mummy."

"Let me look at you. Are you okay?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"I have a surprise for you." Inside I told her to close her eyes. "No peeking." I walked her to her bedroom. "Okay, open them. Do you like

"Yeth, mummy. Ith werry pwetty."

"Do you have a bedroom like this at your daddy's house?"

"Yeth, mummy. I haff my own woom. And a baffwoom too," she added.

"Your own bathroom?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"You are a lucky sissy."

"Yeth, mummy."

"Tell me about your daddy."

She hesitated. "Daddy saith I muthnt thay anyfing."

"About him?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"Can you tell me what you do all day?"

"When daddy's home we pway thtithy games wike at thkool and I sweep in hith bed. He dothent whet Pwintheth sweep wiff uth."

"Who is Princess?"

"Sheth my dog. Sheth a cocker thpaniel. Pwintheth sweeps with Mithtwith Gwethen when I'm wiff Daddy."

"And who is Mistress Gretchen?"

"Sheth my governeth. She taketh care of me when daddy ith away. Sheth wery stwict. She spakth me when I'm naughty." Josie gave me a big smile which I took to mean it was part of their games. "And Mith Thmith ith my

"Pretend tutor or real tutor?" Josie looked at me blankly. "Does she play sissy games too or does she teach you like real school?"

"Like wheel thkool. I wead and white and do pwobwems. Daddy thayth, . . . ,she paused deciding whether she could repeat it, 'Daddy thayth
thithies need to be pwetty and obedient, not thtupid."

"What else do you do? You don't have to tell me about your daddy. Just about you."

"I had a birfday party," she said excitedly.

"Your birthday was in April."

"Daddy thaid . . . ," she paused again and thought about it.

"Just tell me about the party," I encouraged her.

"My thithy thithers came to pway whiff me. We all wore our pwetty party dwethes and had cake and eyeth kweem."

"Did you play party games?"

"Yeth, mummy. We undweathed each other and thucked and made dewithious fwosting for the cake." She smiled. "And we wathed a movie with twanny's fucking and uthing toyth. Daddy gave uth . . . um," she stopped, ". . . , we got toyth just wike the oneth in the movie as pwesents and pwayed whiff them. Mine had pearls inside and wiggled like a weal penith and vibwated. Thally got an egg and Thuthie got beadth. "

"Was Mistress Gretchen and Miss Smith at the party?"

"It wath thaturday. I thaid Mithtwith Gwethen liffs wiff uth. Mith Thmith only comes on thkool dayth." I got a weal gold pwug too as a thpecial pwesent whiff a weal whed jewel, a whuby," she added excitedly. Patthy wanted to wear it, but I thaid it wath mine, but she could put it
in me. She's my betht fwiend."

Obviously, her daddy did not go in for traditional celebrations, party favors or gifts.

You know, you could stay here with me," I suggested.

"No, mummy, daddy would mith me and I would mith him and Pwintheth."

"You could have a dog if you lived with me."

She looked at me tearfully. "Please don't cry, Josie. I just want you to be happy. If you want to go back with your daddy you can, but I want
you here with me for a while. Okay?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"Now, lets get you changed. I bought some pretty new clothes for you to wear. Josie stripped off her jumper and blouse. I noticed that her
chest had filled out. "Josie, take off your bra." The hormones were doing their work. There were definite swellings with puffy little pink
nipples, probably an A cup.

She stuck out her chest proudly. "Daddy thath I have pwetty titties. He liketh to whick and thuck on them. They're wherry thentitive. He maketh me thkweem and thomtimeth I get tho exthited I make cummies." Then she realized she had said too much. "Mummy, I thouldn't . . . ."

"Don't worry Josie, it's our secret." Let's finish getting you dressed and we can go to the mall for lunch." She looked at me expectantly. "Yes, and ice cream too. As much as you can eat. We're celebrating."

We hadn't discussed how long Josie would be with me or whether she would go back on the same terms. My questions were answered on Sunday morning with a knock on the door. I expected the usual anonymous delivery, but there was a tall blonde woman in a long black leather skirt, short black leather jacket over a red blouse and stiletto heeled black ankle boots. "Mistress Gretchen, I presume." She silently extended a gloved hand with an envelope. I opened it:

Monday, 8 AM. 6 months. As before.

Brief, cryptic and to the point. The woman waited impassively for my answer. Josie was happy and wanted to go back.


The woman turned and left.

Six months and another deposit to Josie's trust fund later, Josie stepped out of the van. She continued the Catholic school girl charade.

"Hehwo, mummy," she greeted me with a big hug.

"I missed you Josie."

"I mithed you too, mummy."

"Let me look at you. Are you okay?"

"Yeth, mummy."

"Smile for me. What's this, Josie, you have braces," I exclaimed with surprise.

"Yeth, mummy."

"Don't they bother you when you play with your daddy?"

"No, thilly, you don't uth your teef when you thuck a cock."

"I see you've been working on both your technique and your vocabulary." She looked at me blankly. "Never mind, I was being silly like you said. Tell me what you've been doing and how's Princess?"

She told me that she had gone on some trips to Switzerland and had chocolate candy and cocoa. I assumed with his resources he could pull
the right strings and no questions asked. Other than traveling, things were the same. She played with her daddy, got spanked by Mistress
Gretchen, was tutored by Miss Smith, had occasional orgies with her sissy sisters, had collected just about every adult toy imaginable and some I couldn't - it seemed like there wasn't much else to give the sissy who has everything - and was very happy.

I had Josie ready to go back on Monday. My only consolation was that she would grow out of being daddy's sissy girl and I would get her back
eventually. However, on the Monday morning that Josie was supposed to be with me for the week a black limousine pulled up instead. A man in a black suit and chauffeur's cap got out and handed me an envelope. I panicked, thinking that something had happened to her and tore the
envelope open:

Hello Mother, Don't worry. I am fine. Father and I are on a business trip and I won't be able to see you for another six months. Love you,

It was in Josie's handwriting, but the wording was strange. She never called me 'mother', she never referred to her daddy as 'father' and she
never signed her name with a 'c'. Was it some subtle code to alert me that she was in trouble and being forced to write the note? But why
would she be made to write to me at all? I had no way to find her and no way to explain what happened to her to the police. If she had been
kidnapped her daddy obviously had the money to ransom her and he had been as good as his word when we made the deal. There wasn't anything I could do except wait and hope for the best.

Six months later I was waiting on the sidewalk again. The black limousine pulled up. Another postponement. What if this time it was for good? The chauffeur got out and started to walk around the limo. I wasn't going to let them get away with it. A year was long enough.
Whatever it took, I was going to get Josie back. He opened the back door. A woman stepped out. So it was that bitch Mistress he sent to do
his dirty work. It didn't matter, I was Josie's mother and I was going to confront her. No, she had on a purple blouse with a bow at the neck
and long ruffled sleeves, a black skirt with a slit that showed a lot of leg when she got out, high heels and a large black leather shoulder bag.
It wasn't her. He must have sent the tutor this time. It didn't matter. No more excuses. The woman came towards me.

"Hello Mother."

I stared at her. She reached out to hug me. I pulled back. She looked startled.


"Josie? Is that you."

"Yes mother."

"Your voice?"

"Let's go inside."

She took my arm and walked me to the door. Inside she turned to me. Can I have that hug now, please?" I hesitatingly put my arms around her. "Hehwo, mummy," she teased me, "thatithfied?"

"Yes." I gave her a real hug.

"Mmmm, I missed you," she said softly and snuggled against me. We held each other for a minute. "Let's go to the kitchen. I'd love a glass of

"Wine? Since when did you . . . ?" I stopped and looked at her, ". . . let's go to the kitchen." I poured us each a glass. She sat down at the
table, swirled the wine, sniffed it, took a sip and gave me a questioning look. "Sorry, its from the grocery store. I got milk for you. If you
want a cookie to dunk, you're in luck."

After we relaxed, I turned to her. "I've been worried about you. The note you sent didn't sound like you. Neither do you."

"My father . . ."

"He's not your father!" I emphatically interrupted her.

"I know mother, he told me about your meeting. He was impressed that you turned down quite a large sum of money for me and that you wanted to protect me with the trust fund. Please be patient and I will explain." She looked at me expectantly.

"Go on."

"Traveling for business can be stressful for father . . ," she paused to see if I reacted. I sat passively. ". . . the foreign sissies weren't
up to his, umm, standards." She gave a little laugh. "I spoiled him. Once I settled in he wanted me with him. He had connections to get me
travel documents, but we needed a back story. I was his daughter from a Bosnian woman with whom he had an affair. She died in the war and the records were destroyed. My name is Jocasta Ivanovic. Jocie with a 'c' for short. To be convincing, I had to speak Bosnian, which is impossible to learn with a lisp. So I had speech therapy." She sipped her wine. It turns out I have a knack for languages. I am learning French. Je t'aime, mama.

"You're completely femnine. Have you had . . . ?"

"The operation?" she anticipated me. "No, what kind of a sissy would I be without my toys, front and rear. Father prefers me as I am and so do I. It also comes in quite handy," she gave me a smirk, "for training our sissies."

"Your sissies?" I reacted with surprise, emphasizing, 'your'.

"Yes, we found an adorable ladyboy in Thailand and the prettiest sissy in Somalia. She's jet black with skin like velvet." I am now the Executive Vice President for Procurement and Training," she said mischievously. Then she turned serious. "Mother, sissies are so badly treated in Asia. Africa and the Middle East. I'm going to start a 'Save the Sissies' foundation. But that's another story.

Okay, you're a world class sissy with a good heart and a phony passport. That still doesn't mean he's your father."

No and that's one of the reason's why I'm here, besides missing you. He wants to adopt me."

"What," I stood up knocking over my wine glass. "No, no, no! I told him before that I wouldn't sell you and I won't give you to him. If you want
to pretend he's your father, that's up to you, but you are my daughter, not his."

"Actually, to be biologically correct, I'm not his daughter or yours and that's the problem. Please, mother, let me finish." I got a cloth to
wipe up the wine, refilled both our glasses and sat down. "Father wants to leave me his estate."

"He doesn't need to be your father to do that."

"Legally no, but practically, the story we have been telling about me being related to him is not true and a DNA test would prove it. His
adopting me will prevent any controversy." She paused and took my hand. "I am of age, mother. I don't need your consent, but I love you and I won't do it without your approval."

"I love you too, Josie," I said tearfully, "and if that's what will make you happy, then yes."

She started to cry too. "Stupid hormones." When she composed herself she continued, "I didn't want it to sound like a bribe, so I didn't tell
you before, but father is going to transfer the trust fund to you. I won't need it. You wanted to provide for my future and you have. Oh,
and he's going to add the two million dollars. He said a deal's a deal. Happy now?" She looked at me and started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, mother, this really is a fairy tale. You know, the video we had about the dwarfs, one of them was Happy."

"What does Snow White have to do with this."

"I'm sorry, it's just that," she tried to take a drink and had to spit the wine back into her glass, "I'm the fairy princess and . . ."

"Snow White wasn't a fairy," I corrected her.

"Oh, mother, stay with the narrative. You're the wicked mother who tried to get rid of her."


"Hold on. And father, he's the handsome prince who saves her with a kiss."

"I think you need a lesson in anatomy."

"This is the G-rated version. So the story is that the handsome prince ends up with the fairy princess, that's me, thank you very much," she
stood up and made a little curtsey with limp wrists. "The wicked mother turn's out to be the fairy's good mother," I groaned at her pun, which
made her just about fall off her chair with laughter, "and who ends up a multi-millionaire. And the fairy princess, that's me again," she stood
up and made another limp wristed curtsey, "she ends up as the world's first sissy billionaire." She sat down, laced her fingers together, held
them upside down under her chin and batted her eyes."

And they all lived happily ever after.


If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
49 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 12700 words long.