My new job- part 1

Of course, I didn’t realise how it had started at first, but I suppose I must have left a trail a mile wide on the internet that read ‘sissy’ to those that knew what to look for. I didn’t know that at the time … I had dressed in secret since my divorce, I had been active on line, and this must have drawn their attentions – although of course I didn’t know who they were. Just that I was having some kinky cybersex that pushed my limits …

Redundancy spoiled many of my little games, and I found myself bored and desperate … so an e-mailed job offer came as godsend. It was near a local airport, I was surprised how close. So it was blow the dust of the interview suit and off I went to try and convince a cutting edge new company that my experience was a strong counterpoint to my age …

I was directed to a hired suite at the airport hotel, and met by a pretty receptionist who fetched me a cup of tea while I waited. It was a fairly long wait, and I wasn’t feeling so hot when a woman entered the reception area. Her blond hair was severely tied back, and she was wearing a crisp white blouse and a high-waisted skirt that gripped her almost like a corset. Her legs were sheathed in black stockings, her feat were in high black heels.

“Mr Carter,” she addressed me. “I’m very sorry for the delay, would you like to come this way?”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” I replied struggling to my feet – I felt suddenly light-headed. As I followed her she continued talking.

“I’m Miss Seam, by the way,” she said as we entered a simple meeting room, and I waited for her to seat herself behind a computer terminal before taking the proffered chair. “I’m just handling recruitment in this area; as you may have guessed we aren’t actually local to you, we’re based off-shore.” She rang a small bell on the table, a slightly incongruous anachronism in the modern office.

Not as incongruous as the French maid who appeared, though: she looked fresh out of an Anne Summers catalogue, with the skirt of her tiny black satin dress floating high over a mass of frills from a short petticoat, displaying her stocking tops quite clearly. Her curly red hair was tucked behind a frilly cap, and a tiny apron can’t have offered her dress any protection from genuine spillages or dirt.

“Pamela, please fetch Mr Carter another drink,” she said, and the maid curtsied prettily.

“Yes Ma’am, at once Ma’am,” she said and turned around so smartly that I caught a glimpse of frilled panties under her dress.

“That’s, um, different,” I commented, a little startled.

“It certainly is unusual, but we aren’t a usual company Paul – you don’t mind if I call you Paul do you?” her fingers clicked on the keyboard.

“No, please do,” I replied. “Your e-mail wasn’t very specific on exactly what your company does,” I continue, “and I’m frankly curious.”

Pamela reappeared, delivering me another cup of tea.

“Thank you,” I tell her with a smile, to which she curtsied again and blushed prettily.

“Sir is most welcome,” she said breathily and smiled at me. Her smile, her attitude actually made me blush, because they screamed out: I want to fuck you! I take a sip of my tea to steady myself.

“Later, Pamela,” Miss Seam said in a slightly warning voice.

“Yes Ma’am,” and Pamela curtsied again, an action that made her forward assets jiggle enticingly, and scampered off. Suddenly I had a raging hard on, and felt more light-headed than ever.

“Of course girls like her are part of our trade,” Miss Seam continued. “She’s a very well trained maid, so well trained we use her as a demonstration model, which of course she absolutely loves, the little slut. What sort of sissy clothes do you like to dress in most, Paul?”

I was so startled to hear her referring to the maid as a ‘display model’ and calling her a ‘little slut’ that the following question a moment to sink in.

“I, whell, er,” I stumble, caught completely off guard. I took another gulp of tea, trying to think of what the hell I was going to say.

“I mean,” Miss Seam continued, “I’d say you were most likely a school girl from your activity on-line, but it’s clear you have interests in infantilism, sissy frills, maid-hood, bondage and general subby-slut behaviour, wouldn’t you think? I bet you couldn’t wait to bury your face in a juicy pussy or wrap your lips around a good hard cock, now, could you?”

“What? I mean, um, no,” I struggle to find some outrage or indignation, but my head is spinning too much as Miss Seam walks around to rest her ass against the desk next to me.

“No? Oh a shame,” she rang the bell again, and Pamela appeared. “Pamela, a pair of panties for Mr Carter. Don’t worry Paul, we have your sizes,” she was acting as if this was perfectly normal.

“But I don’t want …” I start.

“Oh but you do. We know you do.” She reached out and grasped my chin in her hand. I would have resisted, but I was struggling just to sit upright. “You want to be a hot sissy plaything. Admit it! And you will be, too. If you are a very good girl, I might even play with you myself – I’d like to feel your tongue on my pussy, Paul,” she whispered to me as her free hand slid out to stroke my erection through my clothes.

Her voice was like fire across my soul: she was a very beautiful woman, very close to me. Yes I did want that – as a fantasy. That didn’t mean I actually wanted the fantasy to be real! All the same her words conjured images in my mind: girls and she-males in lace and frills, or firm school uniforms, making out together, making love … her touch on my cock was like bliss even through the material and suddenly it jerked and I gasped as I actually jizzed in my pants. Yes, I shot my load in a spasm of pleasure.

“You … drugged … the tea …” was all I could gasp as she laughed.

“Of course,” she laughed. “You can barely move now, in another few minutes you won’t be able to speak either.”

“I have the panties Ma’am,” Pamela was back. “And I wheeled in the crate too, Ma’am,” she added. I couldn’t see her, but somehow I knew she was bobbing like a spring. Then her hands were on my trousers as she knelt before me while Miss Seam swiftly pulled the jacket, shirt and tie off me. In moments I was naked, and Pamela was easing a pair of frilly pink panties up my legs that perhaps in other circumstances would be to die for. They had an open crotch, which she eased my balls and still erect cock through. She licked her lips and glanced at Miss Seam.

“Yes, all right, you can suck her off,” Miss Seam smiled at Pamela. “I have to program the crate anyway before we put her with the others.”

Now I could see a huge case, about two meters long and one wide, and one deep. Others? I couldn’t ask, but what she said implied things that were not good … things I forgot about when Pamela’s soft, full lips touched my cock. She was a pro cock-sucker, no mistake. I flopped in the chair, paralysed by the drug they had given me while she gave me the best blow job of my life and Miss Seam did something out of sight. It wasn’t long before my second orgasm filled her mouth, and she swallowed every drop … well not every drop, she stood up and kissed me and her tongue pushed some of my semen into my own mouth.

“Lovely,” she sighed happily.

“Come along,” Miss Seam appeared in my vision. “Let’s put her in.” Between them they lifted me up and down onto a contour couch of some sort. Straps went around my limbs, head and body, completely immobilising me. I couldn’t resist as a penis-shaped tube attached to a hose which led who-knows-where was pushed into my mouth and secured there. Headphones went over my ears, and some kind of device was slid over my cock (which was STILL hard!) and it felt almost like a vagina as it pulsed and moved. Then something else was pressing at my ass, and it was lubed and penetrated me fully in barely a moment. At that I managed a squeak of protest at the shock and pain, but Miss Seam just smiled.

“Don’t worry, your sissy-pussy will get used to it.” Was all she said. As they adjusted equipment, Pamela stepped across the top of the box giving me a perfect up-skirt view. She too was wearing crotchless panties, but I didn’t see the pink folds of a vulva looking back at me: instead what I saw was the largest dick and balls I had ever laid eyes on, the former rigid as iron under those frills of lace.

Then a needle went into my arm, and the lid of the box I was in came down. Fabric pressed against me from all over: I was locked in a form-fitting box, being sodomized with a dildo after being sucked off by a transsexual.

Interlude: Basic Programming

Enclosed in darkness, I seemed to float. The sleeve on my dick seemed to slip and slide, slowly, gently fucking me. Combined with that the object in my ass was also moving gently and the one on my mouth wasn’t still either. This must be what tentacle porn feels like – so bad and ... yet it feels nice too. I can’t deny I’ve fantasized about being like this, helpless and fucked. But that’s just a fantasy, not a reality … really!

The container moves, bumping and jerking around, although I am held very firmly. I can hear nothing save an indistinct murmuring in my ears. Images float at the edge on my vision as the movement stops. This is a kind of sensory deprivation, I realise, to heighten whatever they are doing to me. The helplessness of my situation makes me feel rather queasy, but it doesn’t last as the images become clear … or clearer, anyway. Soft lace and flouncy frills over hard cocks and wet pussies sweeps across my vision. The voice in my ears whispers of the pleasures of being petticoated, the joys of panties. It would have been bad enough – as I already dressed sometimes and didn’t need much convincing – but with the sleeve on my cock and the dildo in my ass (and the thing in my mouth come to think of it) all working me over as well, within minutes I was gagging to be dressed in frills and lace.

Images became more erotic, more explicit. I saw she-males making out, masturbating each other. Then a female joined them, and it became a three way orgy. Another woman joined them, dominant to the others and all loved her at her command. I wished I could to, and when the girl licked her mistress to a climax I came as well.

Sometimes the box moved again. Perhaps it was opened while I was sleeping, I have no idea. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes thick liquid flowed into my mouth from the gagging dildo, and I gulped it down. Sometimes my bowels were filled with warm fluid from the dildo in my ass, then drained again. I came and urinated a great deal, and never seemed to lose that hard-on. I lie in ecstasy no longer caring what was going on, drifting in a semi-dream state most of the time … my body couldn’t move, soon it didn’t matter …

“Hello sissicums!” a female voice cooed in my ears. “We’re nearly done with you now, soon you can be unpacked and come out to play,” the speaker giggled, “you will like that, won’t you?”

Out? I will be let out?

“Mmmmm!” is all the sound I can make.

“Now Pauline, you will be a good girl for us, won’t you? We’d hate to have to box you up again,” the voice continues.

“Mmmm!”

“Good girl!”

Silence. Then a muffled thumping, and the darkness is lifted. I am looking up at three smiling young women, all in caricatures of uniforms: two ‘maids’ like Pamela, and one nurse. The dildo withdrew from my ass, leaving me feeling loose and empty. The sleeve came off my dick, and it slapped against my belly, still hard. Then the thing was removed from my mouth and I could move my jaw at last.

“Mwa … dtha …” I mumbled, trying to speak … and realised my teeth had gone! I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth … no, I could feel them just cutting through my gums … what had happened? I didn’t feel very alarmed, I was safe in their hands. Just as well, and my attempted to move only twitched my limbs and head.

They lifted me out of the box easily and onto a large padded table, and I had my first look at myself. I was emaciated! No, my arms were thin, that was just an impression … I managed to look down at myself: My body was smooth, hairless, with not a wrinkle or fat-fold in sight. My legs looked smooth and slender, my arms to, now I could refocus on them. I was much smaller than I had been, that was certain, but this was not child’s body either: on my chest my nipples rested atop two swelling bumps, and my dick and balls looked absolutely huge to me now.

My three carers lifted me into a plastic tub of warm, soapy and scented water and began to bathe me. One washed and rinsed my hair, the other two washed my body very intimately. I seemed to have a lot more hair than I used to have on my head, but none elsewhere. I couldn’t concentrate on these changes, though, as the three women tickled me, making me giggle shrilly and caress me sensually, making me moan. They soon found my cock, and all three of them took it in turns to play with my meat, referring to it as my ‘dollie’ or my ‘sissy clit’, making me blush and whimper and squirm until I pumped a huge load of thick cum out and over my body, making all three of them applaud. It felt wonderful.

For the first time, I felt my dick grow limp, and it actually felt like a relief. They finished washing me then lifted me out. I was small, I realised, but not baby-sized. Maybe the size of a small adult or an adolescent, I mused as they dried me off with fluffy towels and a hair-dryer. My hips were lifted, and then my loins were wrapped in a large, thick fluffy white towelling nappy (a diaper to you in the USA). I looked at it in some consternation – I am not a baby … on the other hand, I have virtually no voluntary control of my body … and it feels so nice …

I smile as I see the next item they slip over my feet and ease up my legs: a pair of panties made of clear plastic … with a large pink butt-plug built into the seat. I twitch as I try to move, but I can’t. The plug glistens with lube as it passes out of my sight, and I realise that there must be a rear opening in the nappy to admit it as I feel the wet conical end nudge my slack sphincter aside. There is a moment of stretching and then it is in place … and it feels nice. I realise that after so long in the box being buggered by a dildo I may not be anal-retentive any more. Yet another humiliation and indignity.

The plastic crackles as I move slightly … I seem to be regaining control of a sort. Then they approach me with a pair of pale blue satin panties, dripping with frills of white lace. My heart thumps, and my penis jumps to attention inside its delectable prison. These are eased up my legs, and I blush and squirm as my carers coo and praise me. On the one hand it is humiliating, on the other it is arousing, and in a third way I feel very … pampered and happy. A part of me wants to fight, but I have no means to do so.

I am sat up, and my arms raised to pull something white over my head, then down around my waist. I look down at a lace-edged satin slip top, and a mass of soft lace petticoat skirts flaring out from my waist. My dick throbs as I look at it … such a frilly, girly garment ….

A blue satin and white lace dress follows, one with little puff sleeves and a short skirt to match the short petticoat. As I am zipped and tied into the costume I wonder if it will even reach far enough to conceal my panties, bloated out over my thick nappy. I realise that I am near a mirror and manage to turn my head to look at it: a blushing, slightly sulky little girl sits on a changing table with three very sexy women bustling around her. Her long dark curls are a tumbled mass that one is tying back with a broad blue ribbon in a big bow, her pouting lips and long lashes make her definitely female, and her thick nappy stops her even closing her legs, let along hiding itself under her very short, frilly and flounced out dress. She looks like a teenage girl shoe-horned reluctantly into a five-year-old’s costume … and that is ME!

One of the women takes a large heart-shaped pink badge and pins it over my heart:

My Name is
Pauline Prettypanties

Oh great … oh … wonderful … I feel very horny, and realising I am this girl, that I am Pauline makes me lightheaded. One of the women kneels in front of me (great view of her cleavage from here) and slips a pair of short white ankle-socks onto my feet, followed by blue Mary-Jane shoes.

“Hmmm …. Delicious!” the nurse pronounces with a smile. “I think it’s time little Pauline met her playmates. The two maids lift me down off the changing table and set me on my feet, though they have to support me.

“Wha … ‘ayma’s …” I struggle to talk.

“Oh no,” the nurse laughs, “no talking now.” She takes a pacifier … well it looks like a pacifier on the part anyone will see. The ‘teat’ is shaped like a cock, as if you couldn’t guess. This is placed in my mouth and the ribbons on the holding ring are tied gently but firmly around my head under my hair. Great, now I can’t talk.

I try to take a few waddling steps, but between my weakened state and the thick diaper, I have no chance. The Nurse disappears behind me, and then I am sat back … into a large push-chair. Whoopy-do. I am wheeled out of the large changing room and into … well I don’t really know where. It could be a hotel, or a business building, or a private house, I have no way of telling. One of the Maid’s pushes me along until we reach a large room decked out like a giant nursery. A dozen girls the same rough size and build as me crawl, toddle, sit and other wise play around the room as often as not with eachother. Three quarters are in blue dresses, the remainder in pink.

Lucky girls. I wince … I shouldn’t think like that … but I want to wear pink like a good girl!

Several maids and nurses are here too, all of them buxom and youthful in skimpy costumes (you cannot call them uniforms).

“Is this our latest?” A woman not dressed in either uniform approaches with a bright smile. She is very beautiful, I realise, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, olive skin and exotic oriental eyes. Her no-nonsense blouse and skirt clink to her figure, and she carries a clipboard.
“Welcome to Epecenia, Pauline Prettypanties.” She greets me with a kiss on the cheek. “I'm Mistress Maxine. I hope you had an … enjoyable journey. Let’s get you settled into the nursery – you will be with us for quite some time.”