Oh my God, how did I end up here? How did I let this happen? My little pee pee answers my questions by impotently pulsing in its tiny chastity cage. I squirm in shameful delight as I feel my locked softy pull my wispy thong panty even deeper into my booty. The reason I’m wearing polka dot, denim, booty shorts with a matching, cropped, corset top for a girly shopping trip with my ex girlfriend/current bestie Becky is because I’m a sissy.
It was my deepest darkest secret. The shameful truth that all of my sexual desires and fantasies were totally wrapped into feeling like a dainty, girly, denied, panty princess was completely obvious if you knew what you looking for. My puny muscles, slender frame, effeminate mannerisms, shy demeanor, and submissive temperament were all the evidence any one would need to know that I have slipped into a pair of pretty panties to pleasure myself on more than a few occasions. No matter how hard I tried to hide these facts, if you were looking for a sissy to dominate, you would easily pick me out, and from the moment she first saw me, Becky wanted a sissy.
There I was, a meek little wall flower shyly sipping my drink at a hot party that I had somehow gotten invited to when Becky sauntered over to me and started flirting. Right away, Becky took control as her hands wandered and squeezed my soft squishy body, she whispered in my ear how pretty and cute she thought I was, she pressed into me until I was pinned against the wall, and then she took tender little kisses on my lips. I was so flustered by having this absolute knockout waltz over and dominate me so aggressively that my only response was to babble, stammer, and blush. Becky reached into my pockets, seductively tickling me as she went down, pulled out my phone, and then scheduled herself into my calendar for a date the very next evening.
One date would lead to another. In each one, Becky would nonchalantly exert dominance by picking me up, bringing me little gifts like flowers, perfumes, and jewelry, and then paying for everything. She was always the one who would be advancing our intimacy from tickles, to kisses, to rubbing. While I was in her arms there was a nonstop monologue about how pretty I looked, how soft I felt, and how I moaned just like a girl. Any effort by me to assert myself was immediately shut down as Becky would easily overpower and pin me until I promised to behave like her demure and dainty little beta boy. She would end every date by sensually massaging between my legs until I was trembling gooey mess and then she would send me to bed after I promised that wouldn’t diddle myself without her permission.
I was in heaven and things only got better as Becky started extending our dates into our homes and stripping us both out of our clothes. Once as I was in my boxers and Becky was just wearing the absolute sexiest bra and panty sets that I had ever seen, she would push me down, get on top of me, and then sensually rub and gyrate into me. While she did this she made me confess how much I loved feeling dainty and powerless and, in excruciating detail, how much I adored her lingerie. Right when Becky had me worked to the absolute edge, she would stop and tell me that I was just too pretty for pussy, but maybe I’d prefer panties instead.
I tried to resist. I’d laugh the comment off or pretend like I didn’t know what she was talking about. But with the fantasy that had been haunting my erotic imagination since puberty suddenly coming to fruition right before my very eyes, there was literally no chance that eventually I wouldn’t be seduced into becoming Becky’s little sissy princess. It was the very first time that she actually peeled me out of my boxers, took my little weeny peeny in her hands, and with a little kiss asked me if my tiny clitty was finally ready for panties that I inevitably surrendered.
There were, of course, additional terms. I had to pledge to be pussy free while Becky would continue dating and being ravished by real men so I would also be a cuckold. I would wear pretty panty and bralette sets every day, and soft flirty nighties every night. so I would always feel the delicate embrace of lovely lingerie. Finally, my little weeny peeny would be locked up in a tiny pink chastity cage and I would only be allowed to squirt if I was an obedient, effeminate, pretty, sissy.
Earning a squirt has meant a lot of different things. I had to commit to a daily beauty routine to keep my skin smooth and soft. Every night I needed to make sure I was in bed with the lights out by my 9pm beta boy bedtime. My body had to stay tight and right so I spent an hour every morning learning different flirty girly dances. And to make sure that my vocabulary, mannerisms, and thoughts were all appropriately effeminate. I only consumed feminine media and spent the hour before bed deep in the sway of sissy hypnosis videos.
However, today the thing that I had to do to prove that I am an obedient, effeminate, pretty, sissy that deserves a squirt was to publicly humiliate myself by letting Becky dress me up whichever way she wanted for a girls’ trip to the mall to replace my entire wardrobe with flirty feminine clothing and help Becky pick something sexy out for her date with a real man tonight. I feel so vulnerable and emasculated as my scantily clad super bestie pulls me from one boutique to another. The only thing keeping the spotlight off of me and allowing me to somewhat fade to the background is the way I mince about, how I’m now naturally limp at the wrist, and how I only speak with a soft lilting lisp. My innate femininity is my camouflage, my protection, my only real defense, and so I allow it to consume me.
It’s in this state that Becky and I go from perusing the feminine clothing on the racks to stripping each other down to our intimates in the dressing rooms so we can try on the sexy looks and make flirty girly poses as we giggle, wiggle, and model for one another. As Becky and I intimately fawn and fuss over one another, my tiny cage becomes impossibly tight, my panties get undeniably gooey, and I am completely enthralled by Becky’s power and beauty. Being SO close to her while staying small and soft, wrapped and trapped in femininity, denied her body and my manhood, is SO perfect that I feel all of my desires for a “normal” life melt and fade away.
Every purchase is now a promise that I’ll get to extend my sentence as a pussy free, panty loving, sissy princess. It’s only after I’ve bought more than enough girly clothes that it’s all I’ll ever have to wear that I get entangled in Becky’s embrace and feel the heat from her luscious body pressing into mine. We coyly giggle and share innocent little sissy kisses over my accomplishment today. My girly destiny is sealed and I couldn’t be happier.
