ANOTHER SISSY GIRL

Another Sissy Girl

A Short Story

By Maryanne Peters

It just makes me want to burst into tears when I think of how awful I was to all those girls. In those days I did not just want to fuck them, I wanted to degrade them. I wanted virgins especially. “Straight Girls” – not as in “not gay” but as in girls who follow the straight and narrow – promising to be pure until their wedding day. Christian girls — chaste young women. I used to like to fuck them. Fuck them and fuck them up.

I suppose you have to think that one day a father or a brother might seek you out and shoot you through the head. But I used to just laugh at that thought. No reward without risk — right? It added to the thrill. And oh, the rewards are worth it! That is what I used to think. The orgasm is just the end of it — the whole thing is a buzz — from finding her to fucking her. Sure, there are risks. Die happy. Die donkey deep inside a weeping virgin.

But as they say, all things come to an end, good or otherwise. Or maybe fate caught up with me. Death? No. That was not my fate. Yes, the big brother turned up at my doorstep, but the shot was not a bullet, it was an injection. When I woke up, I learned what the future held for me, and I would have said death would be better.

“Turnabout” he called it. I was going to be the one to get fucked from now on. He took my nuts and pumped me full of hormones. It took months for me to grow the breasts and the hair I now have, and now that my cock has all but disappeared I can wear a bikini or sexy panties without anything showing.

That is what I wear these days — nothing but sexy female clothes and the same kind of underwear underneath. These guys have worked out they don’t need to chain me up so long as they can lock my feet in those high heels that allow me to walk around the house but not cross a field or even walk a few yards down the dirt road leading up to their farmhouse.

I have thought about crawling away on my hands and knees but I doubt that I am even strong enough to do that. All my muscles are gone. My skin is now soft, smooth and hairless. I wouldn’t last an hour outside, in particular as whatever they give me to wear barely covers my now feminine body.

And crawling would wreck my knees. I have such pretty legs. Who would have thought it? I was always working on what was between my legs, but now there is nothing much there, I am proud of what I have down below. The boys always compliment me on my legs

The boys come around every week – brothers and a couple of fathers of girls I fucked… back when I could do that. Now I am the one of those girls — maybe not as pretty as the ones I have fucked, but I am trying. They say pretty girls get treated better. I never thought that, but if that’s what they think then I will be as pretty as I can be.

For now they give it to me, and they give it to me hard. Sometimes it seems that you can park a bus up my ass, but it still seems to hurt.

Is that why I end up crying? I did at the start, but I put that down to the humiliation. Then I said it was the hormones — they say these can make you emotional. I guess it is self-pity, or begging for theirs — pity I mean.

They say that you can put up with anything if you set your mind to it. That was what I decided to do. I decided that I would use some of that reverse psychology. I was going to start begging for it. What else could I do? I would call out for more vigorous outdoor sex with multiple men.

“Come on boys! Come on and do it. Do me. Yes, let’s go outside today. Yes, my creamy thighs have been freshly waxed and moisturized. I have just washed my hair with floral shampoo and it will drape across the pillows on the cabana as you make my titties jiggle with every stroke. Bring it on boys!”

Being just another sissy girl ain’t so bad.

The End