Swiss Miss Sissy Fanfic

Me again.  Coincidentally, within the past six months or so, I’ve been contacted by two different people who have written their own continuations of “Swiss Miss Sissy,” which, in case you don’t remember since it’s been a while, was the story that had been originated by Bea and then taken over by Bambi.  It was very gratifying getting messages of this sort, if only to know that there were people who enjoyed and were inspired by SMS.  As I’ve complained about in the past, it’s been often difficult to discern if the story was attracting much of an audience.  That said, there were elements within both of those continuations that I felt made them not entirely suitable for this blog. 

The first person to contact me had written their own epilogue to the story, which, while well written, was also entirely too macabre.  It certainly would not have won over anyone who already found SMS too twisted for their liking.  I sent it to Bambi and they agreed.  The worst part by far was that the epilogue ends with the death of the protagonist, Charles/Cheryl.  Yikes.  However, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn't also put off by the fact that there’s a description of Cheryl being sexually violated by a group of men. 

Yes, in “Swiss Miss Sissy,” Cheryl is violated by multiple women, and I’m not saying that one is more okay than the other, but the simple fact of the matter is that one is a turn-on for me and one isn’t.  I’m certain there are probably readers of this blog who are more receptive to the idea of male on sissy sex or whatever, which is totally fine, but if that's the kind of thing you're interested in reading about, I'm sure you can probably find it elsewhere.  Naturally, I would hope that LGBT people feel welcome here, but as it says at the top of the page, "A place to collect the thoughts and experiences of heterosexual male cross dressers and transvestites," and I don’t have any personal interest in veering too far away from that mission statement.  Before I discovered Bea’s stories, I can remember how challenging  it was finding anything within the feminization genre that appealed to my interests as a straight male.  Of course, I consider myself very pro-LGBT (I actually just got blocked on deviantART a couple weeks ago by this homophobic Wizard of Oz fan who was mad at me for criticizing him for his anti-gay bigotry), but I doubt anyone would consider me a homophobe for not wishing to read about a gay gangbang.  I feel as though I’ve gotten a bit more flexible over the years when it comes to what I’m comfortable with, but I have my limits.  

As I noted, the second continuation I was sent more recently also had a part that didn’t feel like anything Bea would have really approved of and didn’t fit with the story that Bambi is (was?) trying to tell, but the scene I found objectionable was easier to excise, so after this rambling preamble, I will be sharing it in a somewhat edited form.   

I do feel a bit weird appointing myself the arbiter of what is and isn’t appropriate for this blog and for “Swiss Miss Sissy” specifically, but having been somewhat acquainted with Bea and particularly well acquainted Bea’s work, I believe I have a decent handle on what they would and wouldn’t have been okay with as far as feminization scenarios go.  Besides, Bea made me a blog contributor, so I'd like to think that meant that my judgement was trusted.   

By the way, this may be the last “Swiss Miss Sissy” content that gets posted for a while, apart from the one chapter by Bambi that I’ve yet to share.  Because Bambi only managed to complete one additional chapter in a three year span (and because of other stuff I won't go into), I’m sorry to say the future of SMS very much seems up in the air at the moment.  It’s great that other people want to see it continued, but it might be difficult to find anyone who could take over from where Bambi left off, were that to become necessary.  Technically, Bambi’s continuation counts as fan fic as well, but after writing several hundred pages of extra material after Bea, I can’t help grudgingly feeling like it’s as much Bambi’s story as it is Bea’s at this point. 

Okay, without further ado, here are the "mini-chapters" I was sent, as they were written, except for the third part which I've shortened slightly by deleting the last half.  The author wishes to remain anonymous.

Part 1:

"Girl! Come here!"

I try to force a smile on my face as my mistress summons me, but it's not easy under the circumstances.

The fact that my face is barely recognisable as my own doesn't help matters. Of course, I am wearing make-up thicker than any woman would normally wear. My cheeks are rogued and my foundation so thick and shiny my skin looks like it's made out of plastic. my eye make-up is so thick that I look like a panda (even with my extra-large fake eyelashes), but my lips are what's worst- not the lipstick on them, I'm used to that, but rather the injections I have been given to give my lips extra volume, plumping them up to make me look like I'm seductively pouting even when I'm not trying. Mistress says these injections will wear off over time, but sometimes I wonder whether or not this is the case- and sometimes I miss my old, plain face.

However, the dildo jammed into my mouth is probably the biggest obstacle preventing me from smiling. Ever since I came back to Mistress Margot's, it seems like I spend every hour of every day with something in my mouth, either a (very realistic) dildo or a pacifier. Naturally, ever since she learned of my 'love of the taste of cum', Mistress Margot has ensured that everything I put in my mouth is coated in my semen. This particular dildo has a reservoir in the 'testicles' (which are currently resting on my chin) that will randomly shoot a jet of sticky fluid into my mouth every now and again, just to remind me of my status in life. Sometimes I miss my 'lollipop'.

Of course, my mouth isn't the only place where I've been penetrated. keeping my anus nice and full (and my hips nice and wiggly) is one of the biggest butt plugs I've ever worn. It has three 'balls', one stacked on top of the other, with the bottom one being the widest of all. Every step I take, I'm reminded of its presence, though this one at least doesn't vibrate, or worse yet, sent an electric shock through my body- unlike some of the plugs I've worn since my return to Mistress Margot's. Sometimes I miss my old plugs.

Ever since my return to Mistress Margot's, my bottom has been filled almost 24/7, either by my growing (both in quantity and the 'other way') collection of plugs and by the seemingly infinite number of dildos Mistress Margot owns, many of which I'm forced to sit on in the penalty box for what feels like hours at a time for her amusement. Sometimes I'm forced to watch as the dildo causes my tummy to bulge outwards.

My clitty is encased in a solid cage, keeping it tightly under wraps and preventing any hope of an erection. My testicles- such as they are- are held in solid clamps and the entire thing is held underneath a flesh-coloured gaff that makes my front look entirely smooth and featureless. Every second I wear the contraption, it feels like someone is squeezing my genitals, crushing them in an invisible hand. As humiliating as they were, sometimes I miss my old comfortable crotchless panties. Though it could be worse, I suppose- at least this cage doesn't have a urethra plug as well...

Adding to the restriction on my crotch is my outfit for the day. My torso is encased in a black latex leotard that's so tight it feels like a second skin. the top of the leotard is low-cut enough to show the cleavage of the GG-cup breasts Mistress Margot had affixed to my chest- the nipples of which are, of course, attached to my own flesh and blood nipples with clamps and easily accessible through the shiny material of the leotard. Attached to the top of the leotard is a tight, high collar that feels like it's both stretching my neck upwards and about to strangle me at any moment, and wrapped around me is a jet black corset as tight as anything Miss Brigitt ever laced me into, bringing my waist down to an excruciating 18 inches. Sometimes I miss my old corsets and maid's dresses.

The only parts of my outfit that are even remotely tolerable are the shoulder-length black latex gloves covering my arms and the fishnet tights covering my legs, but by far the worst part of my outfit are my boots, worse even than the plug in my backside and the dildo in my mouth. Like the rest of my outfit, the boots are latex, and come up to just below my crotch, but the feet have been shaped so that my feet point directly downwards, forcing my weight onto the tips of my toes like a ballerina. Every step is painful, and the chain between my legs ensures that I have to take many, many steps to get where I'm going. Fortunately, these ballet boots are only used sparingly, on 'special occasions' (most of the time I wear 'normal' high heels instead) but sometimes I really, really miss my old high heels.

I simper and flutter my (ridiculously large fake) eyelashes to Mistress Margot as I mince toward her and serve her her drink. The last two months have been hell. I've been a maid in a tiny low-cut dress, I've been a Playboy Bunny in a tight satin bodysuit, a ballerina in a wide, flat tutu and stiff pointe shoes, a cheerleader in a tiny miniskirt, a showgirl in a skin-tight leotard, a schoolgirl in a frivolous uniform and a slutty secretary in a skin-tight pencil mini skirt and sky-high heels. I've spent days at a time dressed as a baby wearing a diaper, a onesie, woollen tights and a frilly dress, or as a princess in a big, ostentatious gown, but one thing I have never, ever been allowed to be, even for one second, is male. I am what I am, and that is a sissy. I am a possession, a doll, a bimbo with more teeth than brain cells, something to be used, to be fucked over and over again and then forgotten about. Every part of me hates this. But the worst part is that deep down, there's a part of me that loves this...

Part 2:

"Time to wake up, sissy!" Miss Bernardette calls, waking me from my slumber. I didn't respond- the pacifier in my mouth prevented me from making any noise- but I tried to smile as a way of acknowledging my wake-up call.

I let out several sighs of relief as Miss Jeanne unties the restraints the secured me to my bed, before grunting as Miss Bernardette scoops me up in a bridal carry, putting pressure on the extra-large plug in my anus. I'm taken to a pre-prepared 'changing area' in one of the home's many spare rooms, where I'm laid on a plastic mat and the snap crotch of my onesie is undone, before my diaper- which, humiliatingly, saw use during the night- is removed and I'm cleaned up. After my plug is removed and I'm allowed to empty my bowels, I'm returned to the changing area, where my bottom is wiped (I'm not allowed to do it myself- mistress sees it as no different from me sexually gratifying myself) and I am given my traditional morning enema and taken to the shower.

Once I'm completely clean on the inside and the outside, I'm taken back into the room where I'm sat down in a make-up chair and my pacifier is, at long last, removed.

"Do not take this as permission to speak, sissy!" Miss Jeanne warns me. "You will be happy to hear that your time as mistress's little baby has ended! It's time you grew up a little." I remained silent as Miss Jeanne and Miss Bernardette shared a private laugh- I've been here long enough to learn that whatever happens next, it will not be a favour to me and pretty soon I'll be begging to return to my diapers and onesies.

"We will leave your make-up until later," Miss Bernardette explains, making my heart sink and my stomach churn. The only reason they would do this is if they were afraid I would cry and spoil my make-up- which can mean only one thing.

Sure enough, seconds later, Miss Jeanne produces the chastity cage I'll be wearing today, waving it menacingly in front of my face as I squirm.

Like all cages, it's uncomfortable enough as it's wrapped around my clitty, and the additional clamps around my testicles only make it worse, but the worst part is by far the thin, flexible plastic tube protruding from the end of the cage. As my 'handlers' expected, and despite the 'experience' I have with these tubes, I shed a few tears as it's slid past my glans and into my urethra, each movement becoming more and more uncomfortable until all four inches of it are buried deep within my clitty, and a series of loud snaps confirms that my cage is in place and won't be going anywhere any time soon.

Surprisingly, my butt plug isn't next, but my panties- and when Miss Jeanne said I'd be wearing more grown-up attire, she wasn't kidding. The panties are made of a shiny black latex, and are both crotchless and backless- which only makes me worry all the more why my butt plug hasn't been inserted yet. Naturally, it takes several minutes for the panties to be slid into position (or rather, it takes several minutes for my hips to be squeezed into position), and once they are, hold-up latex stockings in the same colour are rolled up my legs.

With my stockings in place, my corset is next. In keeping with today's 'theme', it's made of black latex and very tightly boned, taking my waist down to under 20" and almost pushing my breasts up to my chin once it's laced shut and a thick latex collar is wrapped around my throat.

With everything 'in place', my make-up is applied. As per usual, it's a thick, shiny foundation that gives my skin a waxy, almost plastic look. Thick light blue eye shadow is next, followed by heavy fake eyelashes and more eyeliner than most women wear in a week. My heart then sinks as Miss Jeanne produces a familiar-looking syringe from a drawer.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, sissy?" Miss Jeanne asks with a cruel smile.

"Yes, Miss Jeanne," I reply, before wincing (and trying not to cry) as my lips are filled with the solution that I'm told (and I really hope) is temporary, before being coloured a dusky pink colour. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I become keenly aware of the cage around my clitty- I am literally every boy's wet dream, and things are only going to get worse before we're done.

My hair is tied high atop my head, and a frivolously tiny maid's cap is pinned to it, giving away what my costume for today will be- and sure enough, Miss Bernardette returns seconds later with my dress. It's a maid's dress, but completely strapless, held up only by its tightness around my waist and a few pins securing it to my corset, and shows off a lot of cleavage. The single petticoat puffs out the tiny skirt, giving a view of my thighs above my stocking tops and only barely covering my caged clitty.

Bicep-length latex gloves are next, before loud, dangly hoop earrings are pushed through my lobes and shiny jet-black pumps with 6" stiletto heels are attached to my latex-encased feet, signifying that my look for today is complete- though I can't help but note that one thing is still missing.

"Mistress, may we present a vision in latex!" Miss Jeanne announces as I mince into the room on my suicidally high heels and perform a curtsey.

"My my," Mistress breathes as she examines me. "You have outdone yourselves this time! Tell me, Cheryl, do you like being encased in latex?"

"Yes, mistress," I lie.

"What is your favourite things about it?" Mistress asks, making me stare at her in terror.

"Umm, uh-" I stammer.

"Girls, I do believe she loves so much about it she can't pick a single thing!" Mistress says, making her employees snigger.

"Maybe we should make her wear a catsuit and ballet boots tomorrow!" Miss Bernardette laughs.

"Or seal her in the vacuum bed again!" Miss Jeanne suggests, making me shiver with terror.

"Girls?" Mistress asks as she lifts my dress and petticoat at the back. "I do believe you've forgotten something?"

"Really?" Miss Bernardette asks. "Funny, Cheryl didn't mention anything..."

"Didn't she now?" Mistress asks, giving my bare bottom several bare-handed smacks that leave it stinging and my cheeks burning with shame. "Well, fortunately, I have just the thing for that!"

"I thought you might," Miss Jeanne said as Mistress went to fetch something from a cupboard behind me. "Remember, sissy- no peeking!" I gulped and did as I was told, facing forward with a vacant expression on my face as I heard what sounded like a box opening behind me.

Seconds later, I felt the familiar sensation of a lube-coated finger entering my anus, before I squirmed as my plug for today was inserted into me- though this one felt very different than normal. It wasn't very wide, but was longer than usual, taking longer to insert its entire length, and it felt like it was made from a stiff latex, rather than the usual metal or hard plastic ones I wear. Once it was fully inserted, I also became aware of a weight hanging from the plug, threatening to pull it out of my anus and forcing me to clench even harder than usual to keep it in place. However, I was to discover that this was only the beginning of my discomfort for the day.

"Now, Cheryl," Mistress said, holding up a device that I quickly realised was identical to the one in my backside. "This is your plug for today. You will notice that it has two parts to it. This bit-" mistress playfully squeezed the phallic end of the plug- "is currently in your little sissy hole, keeping it nice and full. But this bit-" mistress gently stroked the part that looked like a small lemon- "is the special part. As when I give it a squeeze..." My eyes widened with horror as mistress squeezed the 'lemon', causing the plug to inflate. Two further squeezes made it larger than any plug I had ever worn.

"But why merely show you?" Mistress asked with a wicked smile. "Let me demonstrate... ooh, looks like you're having to clench extra-hard to keep that plug in place, Cheryl! Want me to pump it up to help keep it up there?" I'd lived there long enough to know that there was only one correct answer to that question.

"Yes, mistress," I replied.

"Ask me nicely, Cheryl," Mistress ordered.

"Please, mistress," I asked in my sweetest, most simpering voice, "would you pump up my butt plug to help keep it in place?"

"Why, certainly, Cheryl!" Mistress replied, and despite myself, I grunted as I felt the pressure inside my backside increase. "There's one for you-" I whimpered as I felt the plug inflate a second time. "-and one for me."

"Don't forget about us!" Miss Jeanne asked, making me tremble with fear. The plug already felt massive as it was...

"Should I, Cheryl?" Mistress asked. Again, despite my discomfort, I knew that there was only one correct answer to the question.

"Yes, mistress," I replied, before clenching my teeth (not to mention my backside) as I prepared for the inevitable. However, my plug didn't inflate further- instead, mistress came and sat in front of me.

"Maybe later," mistress said, earning playful 'aww's from her two employees. "You may go now. Leave me alone with Cheryl."

"Thank you, boss," Miss Jeanne said, before addressing me with a cruel tone of voice. "Try not to get too greedy with that pump... Cheryl!" I gulped as Mistress regarded me with a look of sheer lust in her eyes.

"You'll be happy to hear, Cheryl," Mistress said, "that this plug does deflate." Mistress demonstrated by pressing on a valve on the side of her 'demonstration' plug, quickly bringing it back down to its normal size. "However, we won't be doing that immediately, will we, Cheryl?"

"No, mistress," I replied.

"Instead, you and I are going to play a little game," Mistress said. "I have asked Jeanne and Bernardette to hide my other six of these plugs- I do want to have plenty to 'play' with, after all- around the house. For each one you find, I will reduce the pressure in your backside. For each one I find, I will increase it! Eight pumps, my oh my..." I watched with terror as mistress inflated the plug eight times, which inflated it to almost the size of my head. "Shall we begin?"

Part 3:

"Wakey wakey!" Miss Bernadette coos, her voice's typical sadistic twang making me cringe as my eyes flutter open. "We've got some nice new toys for you to play with today! Aren't we kind and thoughtful to you, sissy?" I batted my eyelashes playfully in an attempt to respond, but this clearly wasn't enough for the intimidating woman, who simply frowned at me. "Well, sissy? Aren't you going to thank me?" Again, I blinked and fluttered my eyelashes, my heart race increasing as Bernadette's frown deepened.

"Maybe the nice, fat cock in her mouth is what's stopping her from responding?" Miss Jeanne says, barely suppressing a giggle as she points at the dildo that was left in my mouth overnight, which caused my jaw to ache and the harness it was strapped into to leave an uncomfortable mark on both cheeks.

"Oh, silly me!" Miss Bernadette giggles. "But she could at least have nodded, couldn't she?"

"With that posture collar around her neck?" Miss Jeanne replies with a sadistic snigger.

"Well let's get both of those off, so that sissy CAN answer my question," Miss Bernardette says, before pausing. "Unless... You DO want us to remove them, don't you?" Yes! Of course I do! I think to myself, but in my immobilised, dominated state, all I can do is playfully flutter my eyelashes once again.

"I do think she wants us to help her take them off!" Miss Jeanne giggles.

"I don't know," Miss Bernardette says, making me groan with frustration once again. "Have you ever got between a sissy and her lollipop before? You would not believe the pouting!"

This teasing continues for almost five minutes before the dildo is finally slid out of my mouth, my jaw so tired and aching all I can do is moan sweetly. I moan yet again when my chastity cage is removed- though as has become the norm, my cheeks burn with embarrassment when my clitty immediately springs erect, earning howls of laughter from my two tormentors.

"She has only just woken up and already she is ready to play!" Miss Jeanne says between giggles.

"Normally I would play with her!" Miss Bernardette says, making me shudder at the memory of what her 'playing' entails. "But today she needs to get ready early. Mistress has a meeting, and our pretty little sissy must look the part. And you know what that means, right?"

"Oh," Miss Jeanne says in an exaggerated way, as though she's just remembered something. "The new 'attachment', right?"

"Right," Miss Bernardette says, before rolling her eyes at my shudder. "Do not be so anxious, sissy girl! We will not be putting anything in you!"

"Not yet, anyway!" Miss Jeanne teases. "Shall we leave her plug in?"

"No," Miss Bernardette replies. "It needs changing anyway, and I want to 'test' the new attachment first." I grunt as the large woman forcefully rolls me onto my side, before yelping in pain as my extra-large butt plug is removed from my anus in one sharp, swift motion. Naturally, the relief of no longer being 'filled' causes my erection to stiffen even more- though I quickly learn that this is far from a good thing when Miss Bernardette grabs my clitty in one hand, places a condom over it and begins to painfully squeeze both it and my sissy jewels.

"Here it is!" Miss Jeanne says, holding up the 'attachment' for me to see. On first glance, it's almost identical to a thong, or a g-string, only made of flesh-coloured latex, but on closer examination, it's clearly more than that- on the gusset of the 'thong' are a pair of lips, clearly simulating a labia, and just above that is a tuft of blonde pubic hair. As Miss Jeanne slides it up my legs, I realise that it's also clearly far too small for me, and  Miss Bernardette seems to realise this as well as she painfully manipulates my clitty into the internal 'pouch' of the fake vagina, practically bending it in half before it will fit inside and be out of sight.

"There!" Miss Bernardette says, raising me to my shaking feet and standing me in front of a full-length mirror. "Take a look at yourself, Cheryl! What do you see in the mirror?"

"I see sissy Cheryl Rosatunte," I reply in the way that's been endlessly drilled into me.

"Really?" Miss Bernardette asks. "Look at yourself again. If you didn't know who you were- and let's face it, you barely do- what would you think you saw when you looked in the mirror?"

"...A naked woman," I mumble, my cheeks burning. Because I don't just see a naked woman, but a beautiful naked woman with large, jiggling breasts, a tiny waist, long blonde hair, thick pouting lips and, most importantly, a quivering labia- exactly the kind I would masturbate over for hours when I was alone in my apartment...

"Right," Miss Bernardette says. "And what feelings do you get when you see a naked woman?"

"I feel excited," I mumble shamefully.

"Right!" Miss Jeanne says with a wicked giggle. "And how would you feel if a naked woman flirted with you?"

"I- I-" I stammer.

"If you don't know, that's alright," Miss Bernardette says. "I can easily believe that no naked woman has ever flirted with you! But, there is a way to find out. Blow a kiss to the girl in the mirror, Cheryl."

"Miss- Miss Ber-" I stammer.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" Miss Bernardette scolds. "Blow her a kiss. Now!" With shaking hands, I blow a kiss at my reflection, shivering with delight as the goddess in the mirror blows a kiss back at me.

"I think the little sissy likes it!" Miss Jeanne snorts. "I wonder how she would feel if the girl in the mirror teased her by rubbing her breasts?" Knowing better than to argue, I immediately start playing with my breasts, and as my fingers cross my nipples at the same time as the girl in the mirror, I feel my whole body start to tingle. And yet, thanks to the restriction on my clitty, I'm still as limp as a piece of wet lettuce.

"What do you suppose would happen if she played with her new vagina?" Miss Bernardette asks, and with a tentative, shaking finger, I gently stroke the outline of my new labia. The sight of the girl in the mirror doing this causes an electric shock of pleasure to shoot through my body, especially as her lips pout at me and she leans her head back in pleasure...

"I think the 'attachment' is working!" Miss Jeanne giggles from behind me. "Though I think we need one more test..." I immediately tense up as I feel a familiar hard, rounded surface poke into the small of my back, before slowly tracing its way down, tentatively exploring between my buttocks before pushing between my thighs, forcing me up onto my tiptoes as its length rubs against my 'labia'.

The feeling of having a cock poking between my thighs is one I'll never get used to, despite my mistress's repeated attempts. Its thick, fleshy surface and its firm girth are a constant reminder of my place in life- namely, on the bottom, while the 'real' men are on the top. But as bad as it feels between my thighs, I know that things are about to feel a hundred times worse.

Sure enough, after mere seconds of teasing, Miss Jeanne bends me over, and the dildo finds its way home, filling my sissy hole completely with every thrust. It isn't long before my eyes are rolling back into my head and I feel myself start to melt with the rhythm of the thrusts, though as much as I want to, my clitty simply will not get hard due to the latex restrictions surrounding it.

However, this doesn't stop me from ejaculating, and moaning like a slut with every squirt until my mouth is filled by the dildo hanging from Miss Bernardette's crotch. Together, the two strong women rhythmically pump both of my holes, even lifting me off the bed as they use me like the sex toy that I have become. Eventually, with my whole body feeling like it's made out of jelly, the dildos are withdrawn and I'm unceremoniously dumped back onto the bed.

"I do believe it has worked!" Miss Jeanne says, roughly opening my legs to inspect my 'labia'. "Not a drop spilled and not a hint of an erection! I think we're ready to prepare her for her day. Bernardette, would you change the sissy, please?" I internally cringe as I'm reminded that despite the abuse my mouth and backside have just taken, my day is only just beginning.

An hour later, I'm stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at my reflection with a look of lust and disbelief on my face. Today's look was intended to be 'secretary', but as is always the case, that barely even starts to describe my appearance. I'm wearing a suit and heels, but the heels are 6" high, as slender as I've ever worn and are forcing my feet into an almost vertical position. The jacket is fitted to my tiny waist and barely contains my giant breasts, while the skirt only just comes to the top of my stocking tops and is skin-tight, still hobbling my stride despite its obscenely short length. And the entire outfit, much like the thick eye shadow and glossy lipstick I'm wearing, is an almost neon shade of bubblegum pink. As are the 2" long dagger-like false nails I'm wearing on my fingertips. Underneath my jacket is a tight black satin corset that takes my waist down to an agonizing 18", attached to which are dark seamed stockings that seem to emphasise the pinkness of my whole outfit, and underneath my skirt is a frivolously lacy black thong, through which the outline of my 'vagina' can clearly be seen. The rear strap, however, is prevented from nestling between my buttocks by a giant butt plug, almost six inches long and two inches wide at its widest point- almost as big as my first 'lollipop'. Needless to say, the outline of the flared base of the butt plug can easily be seen through my tight skirt as well. My whole look is completed with a cloud of strong-smelling perfume, tons of cheap, tacky 'gold' jewellery, including two pairs of large hoop earrings and a dainty ankle bracelet, and with my hair tied into a tight, high bun. No part of me looks even remotely masculine, but no self-respecting woman would ever look this ridiculous- and this is because, as I'm constantly reminded with every step I take, I'm not a woman, but a sissy- a cheap, tacky sex toy who loves every second of being dressed as humiliatingly as this. Whether I like it or not...

"I believe Sissy Secretary Cheryl is ready to take dictation," Miss Bernadette says in a cruel, teasing voice.

"With the emphasis on 'dick'!" Miss Jeanne laughs. "My god, have you ever seen anyone look so ridiculous? So pink? So sissy?"

"This is the look the mistress wants on our dear sweet Cheryl," Miss Bernadette. "After all, we must make sure the merchandise is presented properly!"

"M- merchandise?" I ask, my cheeks immediately blushing as the two towering women stare at me angrily.

"Speak only when you are spoken to, girl!" Miss Jeanne snaps. The room is filled with silence as my tormentors' stares grow angrier. As much as it fills me with shame, I know what I must do next.

"Silly sissy Cheryl apologises and begs for forgiveness," I simper, bobbing as deep a curtsey as my short, tight skirt and giant butt plug will allow.

"You're forgiven," Miss Bernadette says in a dismissive voice. "For now. We were about to tell you about the merchandise anyway."

"Have you not wondered how your kind and wonderful mistress can afford her lifestyle?" Miss Jeanne asks. 'Kind' and 'wonderful', I think to myself. "To keep you in the wonderful clothes you love?"

"Not to mention keeping wonderful things inside you?" Miss Bernadette asks, making me squeak as she gives my butt plug a firm push. I start to tremble again as the women's eyes grow angrier, clearly expecting an answer from me- and there is only ever one right answer.

"...No, mistresses," I reply. "I am only a sissy, and I do not think about such hard things."

"Well then, let me explain it to you," Miss Jeanne says. "And you were so close when you said 'hard things'! All of these wonderful dildos and butt plugs that you have enjoyed so much in the last few weeks? Your mistress has manufactured them."

"Nothing sells sex toys quite like 'tested on a real-life sissy'!" Miss Bernadette laughs. "Especially when mistress has made innovations like the squirting dildos, self-lubricating dildos, the ones that you have to make erect before you can use them..." I barely suppress a shudder as I think about the many phalluses that have entered my body in one way or another over the last few weeks- Miss Bernadette's 'recap' has barely scratched the surface.

"Your mistress has a business meeting today with five potential buyers," Miss Jeanne says. "You will be showing off five new dildos she has designed. And wipe that terrified look off your face! You will not be taking them anally in the meeting."

"Now she looks disappointed!" Miss Bernadette teases. "No, you will just be showing them off, like a glorified mannequin. Only with less brains and more plastic!" I try to retain my composure as Miss Bernadette gives one of my extra large breasts a squeeze, the nipple clamp within transferring the feeling through to my own flesh.

"The meeting will start in half an hour," Miss Jeanne advises. "Better practice your walk, sissy!"

I waste no time in doing as I'm told and slowly mince back and forth across the room. And 'mince' scarcely does my gait justice. The sheer height of the heels force my feet almost vertical, which forces my entire torso forward such that if it weren't for my corset, I'd almost certainy be bent double. However, despite the constriction of the corset, the sheer size of my breasts means they jiggle with every step- something I can't not feel thanks to my nipple clamps. The tightness of the miniskirt around my thighs hobbles me just as much as any ankle-length skirt I have ever worn (and there have been many), and the sheer size of the butt plug means I can barely move at all.

But move I must, as the swift, stinging lash of Miss Bernadette's crop on my thighs reminds me. Miss Bernadette must have lashed me a hundred times as I learned to walk all over again, whipping me every time I stumbled, or leaned forward too far, or took too long a stride, or even if I dared to tug the hem of my skirt any lower. But eventually, I was deemed 'ready' for presentation to mistress and her clients.