Kiss My Feet: Sissy Training and Forced Feminization

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Eleanor and Trinny burst out laughing as they watched his misery turning his face into an outburst of tears. It was a pleasure to read your letter, not least because it fills in more of the picture of Sissy Katrin and her total emasculation. I know from other women/mistresses how degrading it is for their sissy to have to work on the process of revealing more details of their own sissyness, as in Katrin's case of translating your letter to send to me. Seeing at first hand what revelations are being made to so many sissies and their mistresses. She is sort of betraying herself, I suppose.

Jayne set off to get his baby bag as Eleanor and Trinny undid his diaper tapes and pulled down the front. It was wet and heavy, and his penis perked up at his spectators making Eleanor squeal with laughter. the cropped version is here. Close up and emphasis on shoes, toes, etc. This is my famous vintage crinoline, it's so scratchy.Like a baby Shirley Temple," giggled Trinny, who held him by one arm while she had the fingers of her other hand inside his leather harness so that he couldn't pull away from her. "And what a gorgeous, cherubic face for a baby husband. Isn't he just a cutie little darling!" This is Angelina... from Yesterday's Man. As you will know, YM as it's known to us is one of the most influential, up-and-coming organisations catering for women like us. I just love that motto: 'Give us a husband, we'll give you an effeminate panty-rag'. She has very kindly agreed to demonstrate one of their training items for us today, and she's going to use my pathetic husband as her babified sissy. The completed structure had two twelve-foot base-bars lying parallel on the carpet, outside the settee and armchairs, with sloping uprights to a height of seven feet, none of them meeting but reaching transverse bars that created an overhead rectangle, with the elastic cords for the arm bar and the leg loops hanging towards one end. Eleanor held the arm bar and wondered if it would take her weight. Thank you very much for the reply. I am delighted to read that you are thinking about on further humiliating my fairy princess and adding her photos to the new Alice Room in your next issue. Public exposure is what every sissy needs and so does mine. I am really looking forward to that.

Eleanor held the bar with her hands outside the arm cushions and slowly let her weight sag until she dangled in a flounce of mandarin silk, with her tunic top flaring in and out around her, her high heeled boots swaying on the floor and the knees of her white polyester pants hanging and bouncing in front. There wasn't a sound from the Baby Butterfly, which bent gracefully to absorb its passenger as her hand bar bounced up and down at arm's length. I must say that lending my sissy pansy out to my friends was one of the most effective training measures.I still remember - and so does sissy - the first time I made her serving teas and coffees when I had invited two of my friends over one afternoon. My little fairy trembled with fear and humiliation but at the end she passed with flying colours and made my friends being jealous of having such a cute and obedient maid to wait on me. The knee loops are in doubled satin," went on Angelina, drawing plastic bags from the box and opening them to reveal softly folded satin in a childish baby blue. "They wrap under baby's knees so that he dangles with his knees spread outside his chest. On top of the bar, these upholstered U-cushions hold his upper arms, with his hands fastened into these loops underneath them. So with his weight taken under his arms and knees, he dangles with his bottom and bits as the lowest part of him... nicely arranged for us to play with them."Let's put Jenny into her lovely girly panties," giggled Trinny, and they laughed so much that Jayne's sides ached as she sat and watched Angelina unhook his legs, one at a time, for the girls to slip his panties over his feet and draw them up to sit over his plastic baby pants. Angelina had to raise her voice over their laughter. I strongly suggest we put him into a satin sun bonnet," she said, producing one in rose pink slipper satin and modelling it for the girls over one fist. It had a pretty design of satin flowers over the top, with a wide brim of doubled satin which could be worn either closed forward or opened to the sides. There were long ribbons from the front edges. Oh yes," said the supervisor, standing up. "You have to release his foot elastic, like this... then his knee loop to lift his leg out of it." The sobbing husband found one of his satin bootees on the floor again and put in a flurry of struggles to try and release himself, but Angelina put a stop to that by lifting his free foot into the air so that he bounced helplessly up and down again between their skirts and dresses. So practise a little curtsey for me, darling, then sit in my lap, and you can be the respectful sissy for each of the Mothers-In-Law in Prim's stories. They all made themselves comfortable around him. "We can see whose baby he is, can't we?" giggled Eleanor, "with Mother-in-Law's panties and dress, and Mummy's panties too."

He's upstairs, probably peeing himself about having you all seeing him," Jayne continued. "I've got him wrapped in his baby sleeper, with two of my dresses fastened up around it, just to remind him who's in charge of him."

Baby Butterfly," read Eleanor. "De Luxe dangle frame for displaying your sissy baby. Oh my, I'm feeling damp in my panties already." Exactly," said Angelina. "You have put your finger on the heart of the matter. By babifying these pathetic males, we show them how they are fully under our control, like a mother controlling everything for her baby. And not only that: they also see that we intend to show them in all their failure to other women who will despise them for the pathetic weaklings that they are. And that's why I want to show you the Baby Butterfly this morning." On a slightly different note, darling, I want to show you some gorgeous examples of Morpheus fashions. You'll have seen examples on the web, and here are some that show what lovely styles there are these days for young women. But even though my mother let up, I found myself struggling in adulthood with the strict sense of gender conformity she raised me with. I was drawn to butch women, but I didn’t necessarily want to date them. While walking down the street with a boyish girl, I felt ridiculous. We just looked too gay to my eye. Years of shopping excursions had instilled a hypocritical bias against manly styles of dress and, no matter how much I tried to intellectually reason myself out of it, I wanted my partners to pass as “straight” to the heterosexual world. There was still a little girl inside of me searching for my mother’s approval. Mother might never see me wearing a dress, but I could date a girl who would.