Full Story

Submerged into a Sissy

By Premie Peter

Michelle stood before the mirror, dressed in her best formal gown: a pink satin number with taffeta petticoats and matching elbow-length gloves. Just the sight of herself in this feminine attire made her cock--hidden deep behind the satin and taffeta and lace--twitch. She lit her Virginia Slims and took a long drag. As she inhaled, she felt her cock grow in response.

Vaguely, she recalled a time when she did not respond this way to women's clothing and smoking women's cigarettes. But that was before her mother, Angie, had become her mistress; before she had transformed her son Mike into the feminine thing who now admired herself so in the mirror.

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"Mike!" His mother's voice jerked the boy out of his reverie. "Get down here at once!"

He bolted down the stairs and found his mother standing amid the mess of clothes and schoolbooks he had left strewn around the living room floor. "Sorry, Mom," he said.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, young man." She paused. "Young man--maybe that's the exactly the problem. Come with me." She led Mike into the den, mostly unused since his father's death two years ago. Mike's father had been a psychologist and the den had been his office for many years. His mother, Angie, had also been a psychologist, until she married and retired. Now they lived comfortably on the investments his late father had made for them.

"Sit in that chair, Mike." She pointed to a comfortable leather recliner. Once he was seated, his mother moved behind the desk and pulled out an odd-looking device. She flicked a switch and the lights in the room dimmed, while a faint strobe light began to flash in the device. "Watch the light, Mike," Angie said. "See how it flashes, how it keeps your attention? Just keep watching it....." Her voice droned on like that for several minutes, until Mike became unaware of anything except the light and her voice.

After what seemed to Mike only a few moments, he roused himself and began to get out of the chair. "Mike, sit down!" came his mother's voice from the darkness.

Instantly, he plopped back into the chair...but he hadn't wanted to!

"Ahh, I see you realize that your body is responding somewhat differently than you'd like," she noted. "I used your father's old hypno-device to instill some obedience in you--actually a good deal of obedience!"

"Mom! You can't do this!" Mike protested.

"I can, I have, and I shall continue to make the changes in you I think are necessary!" she replied. "I think you'll find that your life is going to be very different in the future. One might almost say it will be quite feminine!"

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On any of his mother's previous trips to the beauty salon, Mike had been left outside, to wander the mall until his mother was finished. Today, she insisted he come in with her. Strangely, she was also carrying a large suitcase, the contents of which she refused to disclose. Once inside the door of the salon, she introduced Mike to the owner, Miss Clarice.

"Clarice," she announced, "the time has finally come for my daughter, Michelle, to make her appearance." Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. Michelle? Daughter? What the hell is Mom talking about? His mother turned to him, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "Isn't that right, my sweet little slut?"

Instantly, Mike's mind went blank, unable to function without specific directions from his mother. She and Clarice escorted the boy to a private room in the rear of the salon, stripped him of his clothes and set him down in the styling chair. Mike was about to become Michelle.

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Two hours later, a much-changed Mike/Michelle gazed sightlessly into the mirror. Her hair was now a softly waved blonde bob, her eyes expertly made up, her lips a seductive shade of red. She was gorgeous. Clarice motioned to Angie. "She's all set for whatever you have planned next, dear."

Mike's mother came up to her transformed son's side and produced a hypodermic needle from her bag. She carefully injected him in several places--the thigh, and under both arms. "This hormone will begin feminizing his body. It's a special version I had a doctor friend put together; within six weeks, Michelle will have the budding body of a 16-year-old girl." She again turned her attention to her mesmerized son, looking him squarely in the eyes.

"Michelle, I'm about to dress you in a set of clothes you will find erotic and exciting. The look and feel of them will arouse your little cock. You will especially like the pretty pink boots you'll be wearing and the bright colors of your lips and long nails.

"I'm also giving you a pack of Virginia Slims Menthols and a lighter. After I bring you out of your trance, you will see me light my own cigarette and then you will desperately crave your own. You will light a cigarette and take a deep drag upon it, all the while feeling your cock grow bigger and more excited with every inhale and puff. You will want to smoke in order to feel this arousal. You will want to wear girls' clothes, in order to be aroused even more."

With that, she and Clarice dressed the boy from the skin out in the sexiest of female outfits. They stood him up and Angie said, "Wake up, sweet little slut!"

Mike/Michelle's eyes fluttered, the false lashes tickling her cheeks. An imploring look that he could not bring voice to, flooded his eyes. His mother merely smiled seductively, took out her cigarettes and lighter and began to puff in the most feminine manner.

Her new daughter followed Angie's actions, noting the elegance of her own red nails and sleek lighter and, as the first breath of the mentholated smoke entered her throat, she felt her cock grow larger than it ever had before.

Angie smiled as she watched the erotic look of ecstasy fill her former son's face.

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True to his mother's word, over the next six weeks, subtle but definite changes came over Mike's mind and body. The super-effective hormones Angie shot him with every evening softened his skin, decreased his body hair, even lowered his weight. He seemed to grow less as well. And he seemed to be compelled to copy everything his mother did.

One afternoon, six weeks to the day after his first transformation, Mike arrived home from school, to find his mother waiting for him. She sat sexily on a kitchen stool; legs crossed in her orange stretch-nylon stirrup pants.

Angie took out her lipstick and carefully coated her lips with its deep, rich, red color. Then she held it at arm's length, offering the slim gold case to her son. Trembling, Mike took the lipstick, turned to the mirror in the hall, and applied the color to his own lips, sexily pursing them as he finished. That was all it took--Mike was gone; he was Michelle now.

The still-boy clad "girl" turned to her mother, who now lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Michelle was powerless to resist--she picked up the pack of Virginia Slims Menthols, lit one and took a long, seductive inhale herself....and her cock swelled to immense proportions.

Angie looked at the bulge in Michelle's pants and smiled. She was ready for the next step.

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The doorbell rang. The trim, satin-clad maid minced to the door, and opened it, her movements but little hampered by the delicate chains that ran from her wrists to her collar. "Good morning, Mrs. Thomas," Michelle said to the new arrival, an elegantly dressed matron accompanied by a pre-teen boy. "Mistress Angie is expecting you."

Michelle escorted the woman and her son to the living room, where she resumed her housekeeping duties. Angie, once Michelle's mother, now her mistress, stood haughtily in the center of the room, enjoying her new life. "Eve," she exclaimed," how good to see you! And is this little Robbie?"

Eve Thomas put a loving but firm hand on her stepson's shoulder. "Yes, I'm afraid the poor boy is much in need of the training that has worked such wonders on the lovely Michelle."

The maid turned her head at the mention of her name and smiled at the compliment.

"Of course, my dear," Angie replied. "Come with me into my office--and we'll begin."

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Michelle's mind returned to the present as her hand strayed to caress her aroused cock through the satin and silk of her clothes.

"Michelle!" Her mistress's voice interrupted her revery. "There will be plenty of time for such delights later. Our guests are waiting."

Michelle minced behind Angie down the stairs and stopped on the landing, gazing out over the guests in the ballroom. The room was a sea of femininity; there wasn't a male face, body, or outfit to be seen in the place. Half the guests were women of about Angie's age, her friends and peers in the community, each dressed to the nines in the finest of designer gowns. The others seemed to be younger girls and women, ranging in age from ten to twenty, each in a party frock or gown befitting her age.

But not one of these girls was born female. Each had been subjected, over the past year, to the hypnotic and hormonal training Angie had developed with Michelle. They were all boys placed under the mesmeric command of their mothers, stepmothers, or aunts.

As Angie and Michelle completed their entry to the ballroom, the assembled matrons broke out into spontaneous applause.

"Thank you, my friends," Angie said, acknowledging their welcome. "I am pleased you have all come to join with me in celebrating Michelle's first 'birthday'. As you know, tonight is the moment when I will demonstrate my complete control of my former son."

She turned to Michelle and held out her hand. "Come here, my dear." Michelle approached and curtsied daintily. "Michelle, are you hypnotized now?" she asked.

"No, Mistress, I am not."

"Do you wish to change out of your gown?"

"Why, Mistress? I delight in the feel of the satin, silk and taffeta."

"Do you wish to remove your makeup?"

"No, Mistress, I delight in that as well."

"Why do you delight in these things?"

"Because you have commanded me to wear them, because they arouse my cock and make me excited. I have no other sexual release except to be a girl and obey you."

"Are you Mike?"

"No, Mistress--I am Michelle. Mike no longer exists. He has been drowned in satin, silk and lace; he has been suffocated in the scent of perfume and Virginia Slims Menthol; he is a dream I no longer wish to remember."

Angie turned to the crowd and smiled in triumph.

THE END