Mrs Noble opens the door and smiles warmly at Mrs Lane, her next door neighbour of the last six months.
'Everything went as planned, Debbie. Heather is upstairs with them now, adding the finishing touches.'
Debra Lane, a tall, plump, but very attractive blonde in her late forties returns Helen Noble's smile and steps into the hallway. The two women then embrace and kiss, a long, slow, passionate kiss that signals their newly discovered and profound sexual partnership. As they withdraw from this erotic embrace, Debra releases an almost helpless moan of pleasure.
'You're so beautiful, Helen. I'm so lucky to have found you. And now everything is finally working out with the boys, too. All thanks to you and Heather.'
Helen Noble, an equally plump, but also truly beautiful brunette in her early fifties, blushes with genuine modesty.
'Without your help Debbie, we wouldn't have been able to do anything with them.'
Debra's lovely smile widens and she takes Helen's warm, elegant hands in her own, her sky blue eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need. Helen then leads her new lover into the living room.
'I can't wait to see them,' Debra whispers, her eyes caressing Helen's impressive figure. Despite her fifty odd years, Helen is a truly gorgeous spectacle. Dressed in a tight black sweater, a knee-length black and white check skirt, very sheer black nylon stockings and black patent leather, high heeled court shoes, she resembles a particularly beautiful school mistress, especially now that her long, thick black hair is bound tightly in a very strict bun held in place by a diamond studded clasp.
'We'll go up in a minute,' Helen replies, her own eyes fixed on Debra's lovely body, which today is clad in a simmering, semi-transparent white silk blouse that perfectly reveals the lace trimmed cups of her bra and the two large, soft breasts they contain, a surprisingly short black skirt which displays her long, very shapely, black nylon sheathed legs to perfection, and a pair of stiletto heeled mules.
She stares lovingly at Debra's substantial breasts, and memories of the previous torrid night of passion come flooding back. Giddy with desire, she takes a freshly opened bottle of chilled white wine from the living room table and fills two glasses. She passes a glass to her lover and proposes a toast.
'To Prissy and Chrissy!'
Debra smiles and raises her glass. 'Yes, to our new sissy sons.'
Helen laughs. 'Not sons, now, Debbie.'
'No,' Debra replies, 'of course not. To our new sissy daughters!'
The beautiful women laugh even louder and raise their glasses, their eyes meeting and finding a powerful, deeply sexual love.
As they drink, there is a brief, contemplative silence, a silence filled with memories of their two very wayward teenage sons. Patrick, Debra's son, aged 15, and Christopher, Helen's son, who will be 16 next week. Sons who, individually, have been terrible tests for two single mothers, but together have become truly dreadful monsters, evil twins of misrule who have plagued their parents and the whole neighbour with constant bad behaviour, who have bullied poor Heather, Christopher's sister, so intensely that, even though she is two years older, the unfortunate girl has recently suffered a minor breakdown and sought psychiatric advice. And it was this moment, now some six weeks ago, that had inspired Helen to say to Heather and Debra, 'If only they'd been girls.' Those fateful words echo down the last few weeks to the point of this merry toast; words that inspired a plan to transform their naughty, aggressive, angry sons into submissive, passive, well behaved daughters; or rather, deliberately designed she-males sentenced to sissy subjugation and servitude.
For the last six weeks, the three females have been secretly preparing for the transformation of Patrick and Christopher into Prissy and Chrissy. With the help of a number of close friends in the neighbourhood, a whole sissy wardrobe has been prepared. The women have also designed and overseen the construction of a special nursery, a complex piece of construction which has been kept from the two sons via the disguise of turning Helen's cellar into a spare room. Such is Patrick and Christopher's indifference to the world around them, they have paid very little attention to the work being undertaken by a firm of builders owned by a very sympathetic neighbour, a neighbour whose own property had recently been damaged by the twisted actions of the two crazed teenagers. In addition to these secret preparations, the women have also arranged for the boys to be removed from their local school. Christopher is only a few months from completing his final year, whereas Patrick still has another year to go, but the school authorities, in particular the sorely tested headmistress, are more than happy for the two to be taken into "private tuition". Then there are the rest of the neighbours, the real victims of the two teenagers' reign of terror. As well as the builder, there are the local teenage girls, all of whom have been terrorised at some point or other by Pat and Chris, and, of course, the long suffering mothers of these much abused girls. All have been informed of the plan and all have very willingly helped when required. And, later this afternoon, there will be a very special party to introduce Prissy and Sissy to the womenfolk of the neighbourhood.
'Well then,' Helen purrs, her eyes burning with a deep, triumphant pleasure, 'let's go meet the girls.'
She then leads her lover to Heather's bedroom. As Debra follows the lovely Helen, her heart pounding with delighted anticipation, she finds herself recalling the last twenty four hours. How the two boys had been persuaded by Heather to come into the house to share an elicit bottle of cider, not knowing that the alcohol was laced with a very powerful sleeping drug, a drug that had quickly left them both unconscious and likely to remain so for many hours. How the three women had then carefully stripped the boys naked and put their discarded clothing in one of the many packing crates now filled with the all their male clothing and possessions, and which would soon be given to a suitably obscure charity. How they had so painstakingly washed the boys and used a very potent hair removal cream to rid their surprisingly girlish physiques of every inch of body hair. (The cream ensured there wouldn't be a sign of even a speck of hair for at least a week, which allowed plenty of time to arrange a permanent denuding.) How they had covered the boys' bodies in a positive ocean of powerful feminine perfumes and taken them to Heather's bedroom. How they had dressed them in their new sissy costumes.
The dressing had been terribly exciting and also deeply amusing. But before the lovely sissy clothes, there had been the more intimate items of feminine control: the cherry red rubber cock re-strainers that had been carefully eased over their sexes and secured with special metal rings snapped into place around their testicles; the hot pink rubber phalluses that had been slipped between their surprisingly pert buttocks with the aid of large amounts of KY jelly. The special, ultra tight pink rubber panties pulled over their now silky smooth legs and positioned around their slender waists.
Then there had been the gorgeous sissy attire. First, special, strengthened panty girdles, whose tough elastane waists had reached up beyond their babyish navels. Then the pink nylon tights, rolled with some care and effort up the legs of the two unconscious youths. And after the tights, the gorgeous white silk panties covered in row upon row of beautiful French lace. Then gorgeous, leather reinforced, pink rubber mini corsets, which had been tightly secured around their waists and embraced their slender torsos from just above the lovely panties up to their soon to be rouged (and eventually pierced) nipples.
And after this mass of sissy underwear, there were truly spectacular dresses. Each made from stunning hot pink satin, with long, puffed arms whose wrists, very high button up necks and very short skirts were ringed with thick white lace frills. Sown into each skirt were layers of thick pink lace petticoating, and each bodice area was covered in a subtle pattern of pink silk roses.
Dressed in this pretty, deeply humiliating costume, the boys, who were now well on the way to becoming a very special kind of girl, had been placed on the bed side by side and left to sleep until the morning.
Heather, a huge smile of contentment and anticipation lighting up her face, had gone to Christopher's much larger bedroom (now to be her own) and very quickly fallen asleep. But Helen and Debra had found themselves face to face outside Heather's bedroom, their eyes locked together. They had embraced and kissed; then they had rushed to Helen's bedroom.
The three women returned to what had been Heather's bedroom (and would now become a very special "training room") just as the hallway clock struck 7.00am. The vaguely stirring boys had been helped from the bed and into two very high-backed chairs placed before Heather's elegant dressing table mirror. Here, as they fought to retain consciousness, their sissy bodies carefully strapped to the chairs, the women had set to work transforming their faces.
First, there was a very special thick white foundation cream spread across every inch of their faces, giving them the look of china dolls. The cream, like all the make up they applied, had been chemically enhanced to give it the water resistant qualities of dye. It could not be removed by simple washing or by the effects of perspiration. Indeed, the only way it could be removed was through the application of a powerful, specially designed cleansing gel.
Once the new born sissies faces were covered, their eyelids were painted a bright hot pink that matched exactly the spectacular dresses. Long false eyelashes were fixed to their half-open eyes. Each gleaming snow coloured cheek was covered in a precise circle of hot pink rouge. Their soft lips were painted the same shade of sissy hot pink and diamond stud, clip on earrings were attached to each of their ears.
The boys now looked exactly as their mothers had intended: intricately feminised young males, very girlish boys, very delicate teenage sissies. This was because, initially, there was to be no pretence regarding their true sex, no clever wigs and padded bras. For the first few months of their ordeal, Prissy and Sissy were to wear their hair very short and their slender figures were to remain blatantly male. Thus, at least initially, everyone would be able to see that these two young men were undergoing a very severe form of petticoat punishment, that there were not truly girls, but rather pathetic, helpless, ultra- sissy she-males. This was to be the first humiliating stage of their transformation.
Satisfied by their handiwork, the women then returned their drugged and still semi-conscious captives to the bed. Debra, after kissing her new lover on the cheek, left to make arrangements for the party due to be held later that day. Helen and Heather then set about restraining their new sissy charges.
First they slipped very high heeled, pink patent leather ankles boots over their new daughters' hosed feet. Through small eyelets fixed to the side of each boot, they passed a slender silver chain, which was locked in place with a tiny silver padlock. This left only six inches of slack between each boot. Then they slipped intricate, rubber lined, fingerless mittens of hot pink satin over the sissies hands and tied them in place at the wrists with thick white ribbons. Then restraining belts were produced. Made from thick, pink leather, they were wrapped around each she-male's waist and buckled tightly in place. Secured to the front of each belt were two very short lengths of chain, which were in turn attached to two matching pink leather shackles. These were quickly slipped around the sissies wrists and then tightly buckled in place. Finally, as the unfortunate youths now very pretty eyes began to flutter open, two large pacifiers were produced. Each had a huge, orb-shaped rubber teat fixed to a curved plastic base. Attached to each side of the base was a long length of cream-coloured silk ribbon. The teats were forced into the captive's mouths and the plastic bases were pressed against their painted lips. The inside of each plastic base was lined with a powerful adhesive tape, which sealed the dummy tightly in place. An added security was provided by tying the silk ribbons in a fat bow at the back of each sissy's head.
Helen smiled at her beautiful daughter. 'They'll be fully conscious in a few minutes. I'll leave the rest of the preparations to you. I suggest you exact some well-earned revenge - the crop is in my room, on the bed. Perhaps six cuts each on the thighs when they start protesting. I'll be back with Debbie just before lunch.'
And now, just before lunch time, they return. Approaching the bedroom, they hear the angry, pained squeals of their sissified sons. As Helen opens the door, the squeals become louder, much more desperate - pleas for release from a terrible, bizarre fate. But there will be no release.
Helen walks into the room. Heather is standing by the two intricately feminised boys, a proud, wicked grin lighting up her lovely face. The boys are sitting on the edge of the bed, tears pouring from their terror and anger filled eyes. They look surprisingly pretty, and Debra, following Helen into the room, is very keen to loudly announce this awful fact.
Heather has made the boys' sissy appearance even more delightfully humiliating by fitting to each unfortunate a huge, be-frilled baby girl's bonnet made from the same hot pink material as the lovely dress. Each bonnet has been tied in place at the chin with a huge baby bow of gorgeous hot pink silk.
As they see their mothers, the "boys" release a series of even louder and more desperate sissy squeals from behind the fat dummy gags that so effectively fill their mouths. Their tear-logged eyes plead for release from the ultra-humiliating costumes and they wiggle angrily in their strange sissy bondage. But instead of words of comfort from their mothers, they receive only laughter and cruel teasing. And it is only now that both realise they are the victims of three angry women who wish to extract a very long-term revenge.
'They look positively divine!' Debra exclaims, to poor Patrick's utter horror.
'They struggled quite a bit when they first came round,' Heather says, taking up a vicious looking ivory handled riding crop and bringing it down hard on the boys' thighs in order to silence their sissy squeals. 'But I took your advice and gave them both a sound thrashing. As neither of them can walk unassisted in the heels and hobble chain, or use their hands, well…it soon became clear a form of reluctant obedience was the best way to avoid more pain.'
Now sobbing pathetically, Patrick and Christopher stare angrily down at their delicately hosed and stinging thighs, too humiliated to gaze up at their conspiring mothers, too frightened of Heather and her crop to make any more useless protests.
Heather, dressed in a red silk blouse, a black leather mini skirt, very sheer black tights and high heels, her own striking jet hair flooding like a lake of black gold over her shapely shoulders, is quite radiant. Her lovely brown eyes burn with power and triumph. Helen is so very happy for her, and so very satisfied that their plans for the boys have got off to such a wonderful start.
Meanwhile Debra has strolled over to Patrick and, to his renewed outrage, started to fuss with his bonnet and complement him on his appearance. Helen, following her lover's example, moves closer to Patrick (who is blushing furiously and avoiding her gaze). She then addresses them both.
'You've only got yourselves to blame for this,' she snaps, her gaze hard, cold, utterly unforgiving. 'You've made your sister's life a nightmare, humiliated your mothers, and terrorised the entire neighbourhood. It's a miracle the police haven't been called.
Now it's time for your lives to become a nightmare, for you to be humiliated, and for us to terrorise you. But not with horrible male-style aggression. No, we're going to use more subtle, much more effective methods, methods you're already experiencing. Put simply, you will now live as sissified she-males, boys who will be dressed and treated like little girls at all times. Boys permanently feminised and under the strict control of women. Namely, Mrs Lane, Heather and myself. But also, over the coming weeks and years, all the other women you have wronged on so many occasions.'
As Helen details their fate, the boys eyes finally move towards her, eyes filled with a new, deeper terror inspired by the simple, inescapable truth of their sissy future. Yet now there is no protest, only an increased flow of tears and a desperately doomed sobbing.
"Today you will be reborn in a realm of pure sissidom,' Helen continues. "Patrick will become Prissy and Christopher will become Chrissy. You will be dummy gagged most of the time, as none of us has any interest in anything you might have to say, although your mouths will be freed at feeding times (when you will receive a baby bottle filled with milk, plus standard meals of a very special sissy mush). Also, there may be the odd occasion when your mouths are used to give your various mistresses pleasure. And, for your amusement, there will be other types of gag to experience.
As you can no doubt feel, your male privates have been tightly sealed up. The rubber sex glove prevents a full erection and will remain in place at all times. Special filters have been sown into the heads to allow you to use your potties without removing the restrainers. You will be allowed no form of sexual release, other than a weekly milking carried out by either myself or Mrs Lane; although in the longer term, we may permit you to find pleasure in each other, but this will very much depend on your progress. Also, your bottoms will be permanently plugged, accept for toilet purposes at the beginning and end of each day. Over the coming months, longer, fatter plugs will be inserted, to ensure you never get too used to that particularly intimate and humiliating intrusion, and that a standard level of disciplining discomfort is maintained."
The poor victims are now lost in a hopeless, bitter silence, too stunned even to sob.
'Although you will be permanently sissified, we have no intention of allowing you to waste time sitting around looking pretty. You will earn your sissy livings acting as our house maids. You will be responsible for all the cleaning, washing, ironing and any other appropriate work required in this house and in Mrs Lane's house. In addition, you will be rented you out to our neighbours. Thus, not only will you repay us with domestic labour, but we will make money from your constant and elaborate humiliation.
You will be supervised by Heather for your domestic duties and a suitable uniform will be provided. You will also act as our personal maids. Prissy will serve me and Chrissy will serve Mrs Lane. This will involve assisting us with bathing, dressing, looking after our clothing and, now and again, providing various forms of sexual relief."
The sissies eyes widen in amazement at this last sentence.
"Discipline will be strict and constant. The crop will be the standard means of short-term punishment, but we have also designed a variety of more longer-term punishments for more serious misbehaviour. You will be hobbled, chained and mittened permanently, as we are sure you are even now planning some form of escape. As you will also be almost constantly gagged, especially when in each other's company, a joint bid is most probably impossible.
In a little while, you will be led down to the nursery, which is to be your new accommodation.'
There follows a moment of strange, gloomy silence, a moment of coming to terms with a truly dreadful reality, a moment before Heather waves the crop threateningly and pulls poor Prissy to his feet. With Helen and Debra's help, Chrissy is also hauled up. Then, the two unfortunate sissies are led from the room, tottering on perilously high heels, taking desperate, tiny mincing steps because of the hobble chain, their sweetly pantied bottoms wiggling with helpless, feminine desperation. And as they start to realise just how difficult it will be to walk in the heels and chains, with the belts, with the fat plugs that are rammed so deeply into their tender sissy arses, they get a terrible glimpse of the future. Then sad, pathetic whimpers of defeat and despair begin to leak from their well gagged, painted mouths and the flow of girlish tears returns.
It takes nearly thirty minutes to get to the door that leads to the cellar, a very painful thirty minutes thanks to Heather's inspiring use of the crop. Debra opens the door and flicks on a light to reveal the steep steps that lead down into the sissies new home. And it is another ten minutes before the two helpless, sobbing she-males are able to see the full extent of the work that has been carried out on the cellar, work that has transformed the cavernous room into a vast sissy nursery.
The first thing the two unfortunates notice is a very powerful white strip light that has been fitted to the ceiling, a light that reveals a long rectangular room now painted a very bright pink. The floor has been covered in a thick, extra fluffy white carpet.
A spectacular set of gleaming white wardrobes, plus two large chests of drawers have been built into one entire wall of the room. Attached to the opposite wall is a set of shelves loaded with a vast array of bizarre, terrifying devices: rubber tubes, rolls of masking tape, piles of thick, extra large nappies, coils of rubber cording, baby's bottles, more elaborate dummy gags, leather collars, more shackles, more cock restrainers, some lined with tiny pins, much larger rubber phalli (some thickly ribbed), jars of vaseline and skin irritant; an endless collection of sissification tools that inspire amazed and horrified looks from the sissies and much cruel laughter from their new mistresses.
In the centre of the room is a very large, white cot, an adult sized baby's bed made from gleaming metal. Yet not just adult sized: this is a double cot, with a pink rubber wrapped double mattress. Both sides of the cot are protected by metal bar fencing, which can be lowered to admit the sissies. At the foot of the mattress are two very fat, white silk encased pillows and a number of neatly folded white silk sheets. To the sissies increased horror, there are also pink leather shackles fitted to the top, middle and bottom of each side of the mattress.
Beyond the cot is a large, very ornate dressing table with a huge oval mirror. Placed before the dressing table are two white leather backed stools. On the table are a vast variety of make up items and perfumes.
The two sissies are led over to the stools. They are then carefully positioned upon them, so that they are facing their mothers, who are now standing by the long white doors of the huge wardrobe.
'This is your new home, and these are your lovely new clothes,' Debra announces in a deliberately mocking manner, pulling back one of the sliding doors to reveal a long row of spectacular sissy dresses. There are maybe 30 separate dresses, of many different colours, and there are two of each type.
'One for every occasion,' Debra continues in a cruel, teasing voice, her lovely eyes filled with a terrible, vengeful desire. 'Plus drawers packed with lovely stockings, tights, knickers, petticoats, panty girdles, corsets; plus a huge array of baby attire – more nappies, plastic and rubber panties, socks, woollen stockings, romper suits. Just too much to mention, really. And all yours, my darlings. Aren't you sooo lucky!'
'And there's loads of pretty shoes, my baby sweets,' Helen adds, imitating Debra's manner exactly as she pulls open another door to reveal row upon row of booties, Mary Janes and stiletto heeled ankle boots.
'But we'll save those for later,' Debra continues. 'You look lovely just the way you are for now.'
Helen then opens a door very close to the wardrobe and reveals a beautiful, pink tiled bathroom, complete with a very large shower stall covered by a rubber curtain decorated with smiling teddy bears.
All three women burst out laughing as poor Chrissy begins to cry angrily once again, his tear filled eyes wild with fresh outrage, his pretty rouged cheeks bulging, the fat dummy gag turning his protest into useless, girlish squeals, his daintily bonneted head shaking with fury and fear.
'Oh dear, baby Chrissy is all upset!' Helen teases. 'Perhaps she needs a little while in the play pen to calm her down.'
'Yes, let's put them both in there until the party,' Heather says, her own eyes full of sadistic glee.
Debra agrees. 'That's a good idea. We need at least an hour to get sorted upstairs.'
By this time poor Prissy has also started to renew his protests. But they are, of course, quite usless. Heather steps forward and uses the crop mercilessly on their hosed knees. Both sissies squeal with added fury and real pain. Then they are hauled to their feet by their grinning mothers and led to a previously un-noticed and very large white wooden playpen in a corner of the room.
Heather opens the pen's wooden gate and the sissies, tottering desperately and still squealing angrily, are pushed inside.
The playpen is circular and very high. A white rubber mat, decorated with a design of pink roses, covers it's base. Helen and Debra force their squealing she-sons into the centre of the pen. Heather then enters armed with numerous lengths of pink silk ribbon. The two mothers take a length each and carefully kneel down by their intensely humiliated, angry and delicately sissified sons. They then set about binding their stockinged ankles very tightly together with the ribbons. Heather distributes more lengths and soon the poor she-males' knees and thighs are also lashed tightly together. Then Helen and Debra force their tethered sons to kneel, so that they are directly facing the two beautiful, mature and utterly merciless women. The poor sissies unleash a new torrent of outraged, helplessly girlish squeals through their fat dummy gags, but are unable to resist. As they are lowered into position, their short skirts rise up around their hosed thighs and expose their pretty, frilly knickers through transparent clouds of petticoating. As they fall reluctantly into the kneeling position, the heels of their lovely ankle boots press painfully into their pantied buttocks and squeals of anger turn into whimpers of pain. Their discomfort is ignored by their mothers, who are now kneeling by the sissies sides and working mittened hands out of leather shackles. But this is not to free their sons: as soon as their tightly mittened hands are released, they are forced painfully behind the boys' backs and then bound together at the wrists and elbows. And, as a final, painful touch, a further length of ribbon is used to bind their tethered wrists to their trussed ankles, thus forcing the heels even deeper into their tormented backsides and also securing them in an inescapable kneeling hogtie.
Yet even this is not the end of their bondage ordeal. For as soon as they are secured, Heather produces two lengths of pink coloured, rubber coated cord. Helen takes the lengths of cord from her daughter and slips the first one through the left shackle attached to Prissy's belt. She then runs it through the right shackle of Chrissy's belt and pulls the two ends of the cord tautly together between the sissies before tying it a very tight knot, thus forcing one side of the two sissies very closely together. She then repeats the procedure with the second set of shackles, and soon the poor sissies have been bound tightly together, their chests forced up against each other, the tips of their wicked dummy gags touching.
The two deeply reluctant she-males struggle desperately, but the combination of the severe sitting hog tie and the cords pulling them so intimately together, makes any real movement impossible. Instead, all they can do is whimper and squeal and wiggle. Yet the more they wiggle, the closer they are pulled together!
The three women step out of the pen and Heather locks the gate. They observe the bound, gagged, babified she-males with cruel, amused smiles.
'That should keep them entertained for an hour," Helen says, inspiring general laughter.
'And they look so sweet together,' Heather teases, inspiring an angry squeal from her she-brother, Chrissy. 'Like two sissy lovers.'
'I think we can make them look even sweeter,' Debra adds, taking a rectangular, black metal box from a pocket in her skirt.
'What an excellent idea,' Helen agrees, her cruel smile widening.
Debra holds the box up so that the two tethered sissies can just about see the strange device. At the top of the box is a small plastic dial, and in the middle are three plastic buttons.
'The box controls the plugs,' Debra explains, 'which, in turn, will help control you.'
The poor sissies squeals diminish considerably at the mention of the painful anal plugs lodged deep in their backsides. Their eyes fill with a very real horror and their struggles cease.
'The plugs,' Debra continues, 'are rather clever little things. They have an electronic sensor which allows remote control of a number of very interesting features. Thus, using the dial and the appropriate button, they can be made to vibrate at different strengths. They can also be made to emit a powerful skin irritant and to heat up. Again, the level of irritant and temperature can be controlled by the dial. This multi-functional feature will be a key part of your training.'
As Debra details the wicked ingenuity of the plugs, tears return to the poor sissies girlish eyes and moans of despair fight to escape their tight, fat, deeply humiliating dummy gags.
'We thought it would be nice,' Helen says, 'to let you experience the positive side of the plugs while we prepare for your little Coming Out party.'
Debra then presses the top button and slowly turns the dial towards the middle of its range. The sissies stare at each other in horror, waiting with appalling trepidation for the torture to begin.
Yet this is no torture. Deep within their back passages, the plugs begin to throb gently, then to vibrate. The sissies eyes widen, they squeal. They try desperately to free themselves from their terrible babified bondage. But they can hardly move an inch, and their renewed struggles only pull them closely together and push their pantied buttocks deeper and harder into the heels of the dainty ankle boots.
Slowly their struggles lessen. The vibrations quickly drill to the very core of their bodies and send irresistible waves of a very powerful pleasure flowing across their babified forms. Soon, struggles turn to an unavoidable writhing. Try as they might, the two reluctant she-males are helplessly aroused by the wicked teasing of the vibrating plugs. And as they writhe, they cannot avoid pressing their bodies and the tips of their fat dummy gags tightly together, and their wide, sex filled sissy eyes meet. As much as they want to escape this ultra-humiliating fate, they cannot help but surrender to the pleasure of the vibrations. And soon even the question of escape has faded from their minds, and they are staring into each other's eyes with an intense sexual arousal.
And inevitably, each sissy's penis is soon stiffening in the tight rubber re-strainers; although, ultimately, only a rather painful three-quarter erection is possible. Yet, due to the way they are forced together, even a three-quarter erection presents an embarrassing predicament. Very quickly each becomes intimately aware of the other's tumescence and new squeals of outrage are soon fighting to escape the gags. They once again wiggle desperately but uselessly, trying to escape this dreadfully intimate humiliation. But, as before, the more they wiggle, the quicker they are overwhelmed by new levels of intense physical pleasure, and the less they protest. And soon, rather than muffled despair, their fat, tight gags are holding back a powerfully renewed and well-muffled excitement - strange, girlish moans of pleasure. But even as they surrender to this new, decidedly kinky pleasure, both fight pathetically and uselessly to control it, to reject it, to focus on the bizarre, wicked fate that is being planned for them and the horror this inspires. Yet reason is always a poor second to desire for any male, and it isn't very long before all thought of resistance has finally been overcome by mutual pleasure and they are writhing gently together, their wide sissy eyes filled with desire and absolute surrender.
'Well, that seems to have quietened them down,' Helen says, a smile of quiet triumph lighting up her beautiful face. 'I suggest we go upstairs and get ready for our guests.'
And so the three gorgeous women, whispering secretly and laughing, leave their beautifully sissified charges to their pretty dance of helpless desire, safe in the knowledge that the first stage of Chrissy and Prissy's transformation from wayward, angry sons into obedient, dainty she-male daughters is complete.
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