A Picture Perfect Sissy

He changed into a pair of silk tap pants and tank t, his naked feet slipped inside a pair of high-heeled mules, painted toes peeking out from the fluff, of course. He brought the women whatever they required and Catherine seemed to enjoy ordering him about like the slave he more or less had become. His ex-wife looked down at him with a mix of anger and disgust as Jason hurriedly knelt to obey an order to massage her calves, which she hadn't really wanted him to do at all. She only wanted to see how far he'd go.

"Get up you pathetic sissy," his ex-wife mocked. "I don't want your pansy hands on me." She turned to Karen. "And to think I couldn't get him to do anything around the apartment."

You have to know how to handle them, Karen explained. She loved to talk about the deconstruction of masculinity. She could teach a class on it; as a matter of fact, she often did. All sissies are basically the same, she often said, and easily manipulated. What she really loved doing was talking in this way right in front of Holly. Nothing could better demonstrate the degree of total control she had achieved than explaining exactly how she'd reconditioned her sissy and have him still be unable to do anything about it.

The fact is, Karen always saved the best for last, is that a sissy loves his fate and wouldn't have it any other way.

"You wouldn't ever want to change back, would you Holly?" Karen said, cupping Jason's chin, squeezing his cheeks so he made a big lipsticky kissy-mouth. "You don't want to go back to being a man, a husband, do you?"

Jason fluttered his long lashes and shook his head "no."

"You aren't suited for it, are you precious?"

Jason shook his head "no" again. He felt Catherine's icy, disdainful stare as he knelt there, completely subjugated and feminized, a long-haired sissy with painted nails and breasts.

"Good girl," Karen said. And she advised him mysteriously to rest up for a very special shoot the next day.