I sat on the edge of the oversized velvet sofa, my knees pressed tightly together. Across from me, Dr. Aris was leaning back in her leather chair, her expression one of professional warmth. Beside me, my wife Sarah had her arm draped over my shoulders, her fingers lightly drumming against my collarbone.
"The problem with a void is that it demands to be filled," Dr. Aris said, her voice a smooth, clinical hum. She didn't move from his chair, but her eyes locked onto mine. Her breasts were framed by a crisp white blouse, and for a moment, the only sound was the erratic ticking of the clock in the hall. "Youâve spent years mourning a physical lack, treating it like an affliction. Your wife Sarah and you suffered for years and that suffering bled through your marriage into your life. Erections or the lack thereof aren't a death sentence, they can be a beginning, weâve discussed the liberation of the pussyfree state and feminization. The emptiness isn't a hole; it's an invitation."
Sarah shifted her weight, her fingers moving from my collarbone to trace the line of my jaw. Her touch was tender, almost maternal, yet there was a spark of something predatory in her gaze. "Heâs been so brave about it," she murmured, leaning in until her breath warmed my ear.
Dr. Aria nodded. "Bravery is good, but we can do more. Don't you think it's time he learned how to use that space? To actually experience the sensation of being filled, and I mean that metaphorically before literally,â she paused as Sarah gave out a little giggle.
Dr. Aris stood up then, her movements fluid and deliberate. She walked toward the corner of the room, where a heavy linen sheet draped over a tall, slender object. With a flick of her wrist, she whipped the fabric away. It was a medical-grade mannequin, an anatomical model of a male torso, but it had been modified. A thick, realistic phallus of silicone and resin protruded from the pelvic region, glistening under the soft lamplight. It looked startlingly real, an intrusive, unapologetic pillar of plastic and rubber.
"This is where we begin the integration," the doctor explained, stepping closer to the model.
She looked at me, then back to the mannequin, her voice dropping an octave. "While we work on your acceptance, I wanted to start working on your training. To understand that this isn't just a mechanical act, but a psychic shift as well. For instance, when I first started exploring my own desires with my partner, the thrill wasn't in the act itself, but in the surrender of my initial pride or rather attitude. I remember the first time I knelt before him, feeling that same hollow ache and confusion you probably feel right now, but as I got used to it, I felt more encouraged and empowered and with that came the sheer, visceral relief of finally letting someone else take control."
Sarah laughed softly, a melodic sound that vibrated through my shoulder. "She's right. I remember the first time I saw myself like that," Sarah added, her eyes drifting to the doctor. "The way I looked up at him, completely undone. It's a specific kind of peace, isn't it? The peace of knowing you are exactly where you belong." I knew the " himâ in question wasn't me. She had never gone down on me, not even once.
I hesitated and shifted in my seat. âB-but I like girls," I blurted out as my gaze was stuck on the phallus of the mannequin. I could feel my cage strain against the panties I was wearing, all hidden under the veneer of khaki pants, almost like a metaphor of sorts.
Sarah exchanged a knowing glance with the doctor, almost like they knew I would protest, if you could call that feeble attempt a protest.
âSweetie, we've been through this. You're a sissy now, a pussyfree sissy, and pussyfree sissies.." Sarah started, gesturing at me to complete the sentence.
â.. like men. Real men. But, I still like women and I can't do that-â I said, gesturing back to the mannequin.
This time it was Dr.Arisâs turn to respond. "Sissies and women can share a unique relationship yes, and so do women and women but attraction can't lead to sexual gratification, it just doesn't work out. It's back to the old âsquare peg, round hole" metaphor. What you're feeling though is completely natural and valid. Every woman and sissy has felt that men are just.. overwhelming. In fact, I knew a girl who puked when she saw a penis for the first time. Compared to that you're doing great!â
Sarah took my hand and guided me toward the mannequin, her palm pressing against mine, pushing me toward the silicone member.
âYou were so resistant to the chastity, and then the panties and the waxing and now look at you. It's just another step. One step at a time,â she said.
"Go on, honey. Just a touch. Feel how much better it is to stop pretending you don't want this. This reminds me of my first time. My college boyfriend Greg, god he was so big. I know we never- or i couldnt go down on you, but you can learn from the best. That's why I'm here sweetie!"
âThis is precisely why I invited Sarah to our sessions. Having a more friendly and loving face definitely helps decode a lot of my therapy speak doesn't it?" Dr.Aris said with a chuckle.
The cold, slick surface of the mannequin met my fingertips. It was unnervingly firm, a stark contrast to the trembling of my own hands. I looked up at them, feeling a wave of heat crash over my face, the shame of my "pussyfree" status manifesting as a physical weight in my chest.
Dr. Aris didn't move to stop my hesitation; instead, she leaned forward in her chair, crossing her legs. "Notice how the breath hitches when you touch it," she observed clinically. "That's the body acknowledging its purpose. When I spent a summer in Florence after med school, there was a manâa sculptorâwho taught me that the most profound pleasure comes from the most humbling positions. He would make me wait for hours, naked, sometimes tied up, just knowing that eventually, I would be tasting him. The anticipation is what turns a physical act into a spiritual surrender."
"Now, move closer," Sarah whispered, her voice guiding me like a gentle current. She nudged me off the sofa and onto my knees on the plush rug.
The transition felt organic, a slow descent into a role I had secretly craved for years. As I knelt, the world shrank until there was nothing but the glistening silicone pillar and the two women watching me with indulgent, knowing smiles.
Sarahâs hand rested on the back of my neck, her fingers weaving through my hair, steering my head forward. "Just a little bit, sweetheart. Just a taste. Imagine it's a real man. Imagine the weight of him, the scent of him, the way he'd look down at you and see exactly what you are."
I opened my mouth, the air feeling thick and electric. As I leaned in, Dr. Aris continued her narrative, her voice a rhythmic drone that seemed to hypnotize me. "Now Sarah, this Greg seems to be a part of your past, but you have taken on a lover I believe, is that true?" Her words blurred with Sarahâs encouraging hums, and suddenly, the silicone was against my lips just as Dr.Aris mentioned Sarah's new boyfriend.
âOh yes. His name is Steve. We met on tinder, he knows of our situation, and has been very patient. I haven't brought him home just yet so I've been spending some nights at his place but I think our sissy can handle it soon," she said as she pushed my head lightly, making me part my lips.
The texture was strangeâfirm yet yieldingâand as I tentatively slid my lips over the head of the mannequin, a shudder ran through my entire frame. It wasn't just the physical sensation; it was the psychological collapse of my pride. Sarah leaned down, her cheek brushing mine, her voice a warm, honeyed rasp in my ear. "Look at you," she sighed, her tone brimming with genuine affection. "My little sissy, finally learning how to be a girl sexually. Don't stop. Take it all the way in. Imagine how he'd feel hitting the back of your throat, filling that empty space you've complained about for so long."
I pushed deeper, the silicone sliding past my teeth with a wet, muted sound. My eyes watered, the gag reflex triggering a frantic pulse in my throat, but the feeling of being steered by Sarahâs hand made the struggle feel like a reward.
I wasn't just performing a task; I was being molded. Dr. Aris wheeled her chair closer. She didn't touch me, but her presence felt like a weight, an authority that validated my descent.
Sarahâs fingers tightened slightly in my hair, pulling my head back just enough so I had to look up at her while still keeping the mannequin firmly in my mouth. Her eyes were shimmering with a mixture of pride and desire. "Heâs doing so well, isn't he, Doctor?" she whispered, her voice thick with warmth.
"I remember when Greg used to make me do this for him before work. Heâd just stand there, scrolling through Instagram, completely indifferent to the fact that I was giving him everything I had. That indifference was the most erotic part. Knowing that my entire existence in that moment was reduced to a tool for his pleasure. Thatâs what youâre learning, honey. Youâre learning that your value is in how well you can serve. Steve and I, we prefer to do it in the bed, Steve likes it when I'm on the bed, naked and he can play with my ass. I'm sure you'll get to other positions soon, but this one is the most basic one, on your knees, it really helps remind you of your place. Isn't that right Dr.Aris?â
I tried to swallow as the images of my wife naked with another man swarmed my brain, the plastic pillar obstructing my airway, forcing me to breathe in shallow, desperate gasps through my nose.
The sensation was claustrophobic yet intoxicating. I felt small, diminished, and utterly exposed. Every time I tried to pull back, Sarahâs hand would gently but firmly guide me back onto the silicone, ensuring there was no escape from the role. I was no longer a husband or a man in the traditional sense; I was a sissy, a pussyfree void being taught the art of submission.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Dr. Aris asked, her voice now a low, melodic vibration that seemed to resonate in my very bones.
She had moved to stand directly beside Sarah, the two of them forming a wall of feminine authority over me. "The way your throat tightens, the way your eyes blur. That is the sensation of your ego dissolving. It is the physical manifestation of your inadequacy being turned into an asset."
Sarah leaned further over me, her breasts brushing against my shoulder as she pressed her palm more firmly against the back of my head.
"He's shaking, Doctor. Look at him. He's absolutely terrified and completely thrilled." She gave a small, playful tug on my hair, forcing me to take the silicone deeper, pushing it until I felt the blunt end hit the back of my throat. A muffled, wet moan escaped my nose, a sound of total surrender. "That's it, that's a good girl. What I like to do to spice things up, is sometimes I take off my shirt or play with my bra. Here, why don't I help you-" she said as she started to unbutton my shirt as I continued to service the mannequin.
I was wearing a pink lace bra that we had just bought the other day. Now I was exposed to my therapist as I knelt on her office floor sucking a mannequin.
âNow doctor, I know you said not to rush, but this bra was too cute and matched his panties. We had to buy it!"
Dr. Aris let out a soft, appreciative hum, her gaze tracing the line of my straining neck. "Oh Sarah, my recommendations are just that. Recommendations. How you proceed is up to you, and I do agree it is a cute bra indeed!"
As I gagged, she continued" The psychological transition is nearly complete. You are no longer mourning the absence of pussy in your life; you are embracing the utility of the mouth, and in turn your new role. Maybe with a few practice sessions, here or at home, you can even try to practice on this Steve. That is, if Sarah and Steve agree of course,â
I was lost in the rhythm of their voices, the stories of their own submission weaving a tapestry of a world where power was a gift given to those who could hold it. The mannequin was no longer just plastic; in my mind, it had become an avatar of every man who had ever made me feel small, a symbol of the masculine authority I was now learning to worship.
I stopped fighting the gag reflex and leaned into it, pushing my face forward with a desperate, hungry eagerness. I wanted them to see me as nothing more than a tool, a void designed to be filled.
"See how heâs starting to crave it," Sarah whispered, her voice vibrating against my ear. "He's stopped fighting and started hunting. He's finally realizing that this is the only way to feel whole." She didn't just hold my head now; she began to move it in a slow, rhythmic motion, guiding me to suck the silicone member with a focused, desperate intensity. The wet, slapping sounds of my lips against the resin echoed in the quiet room, a crude percussion that stripped away the last remnants of my dignity.
Dr. Aris stepped closer, the scent of her perfumeâsomething sharp and floralâfilling the small gap of air I had left to breathe. "Yes, that's it. I think you've got the hang of it. Now, there's a small surprise in store for you, and it's part of the learning process -â Dr. Aris said as I saw her pull a remote from her pocket, and click the button. The mannequin started to vibrate, and the shaft grew hot, and started to squirt a liquid in my mouth. I gagged and opened my mouth in reflex as a salty warm liquid started squirting from the shaft, spraying my mouth and my now agape face with a warm liquid.
" I apologize for not telling you, but as I said, this is part of the process. In due time, you'll learn how to control this, how to swallow, how to spit. The mess is real but it is the way it is. You may swallow,â
Sarah sat in awe as she took a finger to my face and scooped up the fake cum before tasting it. " Oh wow, that actually tastes real. It is fake though, right?â
" Yes. Synthetic cum. Now, you may go to the bathroom to clean up while I talk to Sarah privately about the next steps. I'm very proud of you! You handled that cock like a champ, and far better than I anticipated," Dr.Aris said as she took her hand and helped Sarah up before taking her next door, leaving me and the mannequin alone, still on my knees, my shirt on the floor, clad in a pink bra, my face smeared with tears, my own saliva and fake cum.
Inspired from this post by the lovely Sara: (@saragirlsissyconfessions)
"I don't understand, Hayden, we've been over this in multiple sessions," my therapist said, leaning towards me. "I...I just...I mean...I li
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