	             ____________________________
                    |                            |
                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
             ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
             (\\\ \  \_/  /                \  \_/  / ///)
              \          /                  \          /
               \      _/                     \_       /
                /    /                         \     \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.                   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Melissa (mf, cd, hum)
by Anon NixPixer (c) 1993

**
 
          "Missy, come into the living room.  We have guests."   
The demure, girlish form standing in the foyer heard the words
coming through the closed doors to the room.  Missy looked at her
image in the mirror on the wall and saw a person she hardly
recognized.  Well, she recognized herself, but the reflection was
not what she was used to seeing by any stretch of the
imagination.  Perhaps if she was lucky, the visitors with her
Aunt on the other side of the door would not recognize her
either.  She raised a well manicured hand to the side of her
head, patted a curl into place, and couldn't help but notice how
natural the feminine motion appeared.  The thought sent a shiver
up her spine. 
          Missy quickly reviewed her appearance in the full
length mirror.  She wore a tea length, white chiffon dress with a
circle skirt that fell in soft folds over her moderately full
petticoat.  Her ankles peeked out below the hem of the dress
through blush pink hose, and she stood on white leather pumps
with four inch heels.  Her hair was worn below the shoulders,
falling in soft curls around her face, with straight bangs across
her forehead, providing a piquant, juvenile look.  Missy was
examining her perfect makeup, which she herself had put on
earlier that day, when the voice of her aunt came through the
door again. 
          "Missy, I said come into the living room, and I meant
it."  Aunt Mary's voice was more urgent and Missy realized she
had delayed too long before the mirror.  She twirled on her
heels, her skirt swirling about her legs, and in the sweet
feminine walk which she had been learned over the past summer,
Missy minced to the door and opened it to join her aunt and the
guests for tea. 
          As she entered the room Missy only saw her Aunt Mary
clearly.  The guests were seated in two wingback chairs facing
the sofa from which Aunt Mary had just risen.  "Missy, when I
call to you I expect you to respond promptly, do you understand,
young lady?"  Missy halted abruptly, concerned that lingering in
the foyer had made her aunt angry.  "Yes ma'am, I'm very sorry. 
It won't happen again," Missy answered demurely, hoping to
appease her aunt's temper.   
          "Well don't just stand there child," continued Aunt
Mary, "We have guests."  Missy took her cue and once again began
to walk towards her aunt and the two wingback chairs.  She
swished around the chairs to join Aunt Mary, turning towards the
guests.  Missy's Stepmother and stepsister rose from the chairs
in unison to greet her, each wearing a smile that would light up
the darkest night.   Missy's blood raced and she could feel a
warm flush spreading over her cheeks as her Stepmother moved
forward to greet her.  "Missy, you look so pretty today.  Are you
glad to see us?" she asked.  The young girl curtsied reflexively
and responded in the affirmative.  Her hands now clasped together
behind her back, Missy bent forward slightly at her tightly
corsetted waist, so as to give her Stepmother a peck on the
cheek.  "Yes Mother, its very nice of you to come visit me,"  she
softly replied.  Missy's stepsister, Amanda, a year younger than
Missy at fifteen, yet appearing several years older at the
moment, chimed in.  "What about me, little sister, don't I get a
kiss too?"  Missy blushed further at this invitation, and slowly
walked forward to lean towards Amanda and kiss her cheek.  Aunt
Mary directed Missy to a straight back chair strategically placed
so that the others all had a clear view of it's occupant.  In a
gracefull manner she grasped her skirts and fluffed them out as
she seated herslf. 
          Her Stepmother spoke again.  "Have you had a pleasant
stay dear?"  "Yes Mother.  Aunt Mary has been very kind to me,"
she responded automatically."  "That's nice," her Mother
continued.  "Well the summer is over and its time to get you back
to school.  We've come to take you home."  At this comment Missy
was noticably startled.  "We. . . I'm going ho. . . home?" she
inquired.  The thought of returning home, with all of its
implications, was something Missy was unprepared to deal with. 
She stared down at the deep red polish on her inch long nails and
thought of an earlier time, three months ago. 
================================================================ 
          Michael opened the kitchen screen door and let is slam
with a bang behind him.  It was the last day of school and his
bounding walk reflected his enthusiasm for the summer aheaad. But
he wasn't very enthusiastic about another part of his life.  His
father had recently remarried, the most immediate consequence of
which was that he had a new Stepmother, and a stepsister, Amanda. 
His Stepmother was an attractive woman, several years younger
than his father.  She was a good deal more of a disciplinarian
than Mike was used to, however.  As for Amanda, he could do
without her entirely.  Mike had known her since he was in grade
school; both Amanda and her mother had lived in his town for
years.  She was always a spoiled bitch, and the fact that puberty
had endowed her with sufficient assets to make her the envy of
every girl in town had only exacerbated it.  The boys in town
predictably fawned over her, and she loved it.  The combination
of all these facts made her truely insufferable.   
          The door slammed and his Stepmother's footsteps could
shortly be heard coming from the living room.  She came into the
kitchen and immediately berated him.  "Michael, how many times do
I have to tell you that doors do not slam in this house!  I am
entertaining guests in the other room and you've embarassed me
before them."  Mike stared at this incomprehensible woman,
thinking her next edict would be no breathing allowed.  "And
those shoes," she added.  "Take them off this instant.  They're
filthy and you'll track mud all over the house."  He kicked the
shoes off into the corner of the entranceway and shrugged his
shoulders as he went to go up to his bedroom.   
          "Where do you think you're going young man?  I'm
speaking to you," his Stepmother demanded.  Mike turned back to
her and muttered, "I'm sorry.  I won't slam the door again," and
quickly turned to go upstairs.  "Stop right there," she ordered. 
"I'm not going to put up with your insolent attitude any longer. 
Stay in you're room until I call for you."  She turned on her
heels and left to regoin her guests.  Michael went upstairs
convinced that his stepmother was mad.  The sounds from her
gathering filtered up to his room.  They seemed to be celebrating
something.  No matter.  He would speak to his father about it and
end this nonsense. 
          But that was part of his problem also.  His father had
been called away on business several months before.  At first the
trip was supposed to be only a few weeks, but it later turned
into an indefinite assignment.  In his father's absence, his
Stepmother had become increasingly autocratic, and Amanda had
become absolutely intolerable.  It got to the point where he
simply avoided them as much as possible.  Whenever Michael was
around his Stepmother she was constantly demeaning him and
criticizing his behavior.  Amanda treated him with scorn, always
taunting him about his small size, saying that any girl who was
interested in him must be a lesbian.  Complaining about Amanda to
her mother was useless; Amanda would always find some way to
twist the facts around and make it appear as if Michael were in
the wrong. 
          The sounds from the party had quieted and his
Stepmother finally appeared to deliver another of her inevitable
lectures.  She had waited until he returned from taking a shower,
and when she entered he was clad only in a towel wrapped around
his waist.  She advised in a firm tone that she was not going to
put up with his rudeness and bad manners any further.  So long as
his father was absent she was responsible for his upbringing, and
his failure to respond to any reasonble guidance measures to date
were going to change immediately.  With that she led him from his
room to the newly decorated guest bedroom. 
          Mike knew the room was being renovated but was unaware
of her exact plans, and was surprised to find it so elaborately
furnished.  The room was done in pastels, predominantly pink, and
seemed to him to be extremely feminine.  Lace curtains, a canopy
bed, and a deep shag rug overwhelmed the room.  She spoke again
he had an opportunity to take in the surroundings.  "You'll be
staying in here for the weekend.  I'm locking your room so that
you will not be tempted to disobey me again."  Mike stared at
her, baffled.  Why should he have to stay here?  And what was he
supposed to wear if he couldn't return to his room? 
          His questions were shortly answered.  "I've had this
room specially remodeled.  It is designed to perform one task: 
to teach you how to live like a civilized human being."  With
that she snatched the towel from around his waist, leaving him
stark naked.  Mike quickly threw his hands over his privates and
dashed behind a chair, desperately seeking some form of modesty. 
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.  "Give me my towel
back right now!"  He tried to sound assertive but realized that
his words were having no effect.  His Stepmother just stood there
with his towel, in complete control, and he knew it.  "Please . .
. ?" he offered with a second thought, hoping to placate this
apparantly mad woman. 
          "No," she replied.  "As I said before, you are going to
learn to be a civilized human being, and the lessons start right
now.  You have already amply demonstrated that you are an uncouth
young man, absolutely incapable of proper behavior, especially
towards ladies and girls.  Accordingly, you will begin this
evening to learn a little about what ladies and girls are all
about."  Mike was having a difficult time following her.  The bit
about his conduct towards girls and women was incomprehensible. 
If anything, he was constantly oppressed by them, not the other
way around.  And this "learning" about females was equally
indecipherable.  For the life of him, he could not figure this
woman out. 
          His Stepmother walked to the door and tossed his towel
out into the hall.  She then closed the door and locked it with a
key.  "What are you doing?  I'm standing here naked and you threw
my towel out the door," exclaimed Mike.  "That's right, because
there are already plenty of things in here for you to wear," his
Stepmother replied.  With that she walked over to the large
dresser dominating one wall of the room and began to remove
clothing for Mike from the drawers.  She pulled out a pair of
pink, lace trimmed panties, a matching garter belt and stockings,
and a pink sleeveless undershirt, or vest, trimmed with lace at
the neckline and sleeves.  She spread these garments out on the
bed with great ceremony, and stood back, turning to look at the
astonished boy. 
          "There, now put those on and I'll find the rest of your
clothes for this evening," she stated in a matter of fact tone. 
"What do you mean put those on.  They're girl's clothes.  I'm not
wearing them."  Michael again tried to be firm in his reply but
his voice betrayed his fear that he might indeed have to wear the
feminine articles.  His Stepmother ignored him and walked over to
the large, walk-in closet.  She opened the door and took a switch
from a hook hanging inside.  Turning towards the cowering boy
hiding behind the chair she swung the rod through the air as if
to test it.  "You'll begin to dress immediately or you will
certainly regret it," she threatened.  Forgetting for a moment
his naked state, Michael dashed to the door only to find it
securely locked.  His Stepmother took immediate advantage of his
now defenseless position and moved quickly towards him, slashing
with the birch and catching him squarely on his exposed bottom. 
Michael was caught by surprise and slumped to the floor in a
foetal position, as if to protect himself from her further
assault. 
          "Get over to that bed right now and start getting
dressed or you'll think what you just felt was a love tap!" his
Stepmother commanded.  He immediately jumped to his feet and ran
to the bed in order to avoid any further blows.  "I . . . I don't
know how to put them on," he stammered.   
          "I don't know how to put them on," she mocked.  "Pick
up the garter belt and wrap it around your waist you stupid
twit," she directed.  Michael did as he was told and she fastened
the garter belt securely at this waist.  He stared down at the
lingerie around his body uncomprehendingly.  He started to
protest again and was met with another swat on his still bare
buttocks.  "Shut up.  You're going to learn that properly behaved
young ladies do not speak back to their superiors.  And I AM your
superior.  Now sit down on the bed." 
          In short order, his stepmother drew the pink tinted
hose up his legs and fastened them to the garters.  The vest was
drawn over his head and the panties up over his legs.  Ordered to
stand, he felt the strange sensation of the stockings pulling on
his garters.  Stepmother walked over to the closet and came back
with two more garments that sent chills through Michael's body. 
He wanted to shout out his protests, but knew they would be
futile. 
          His Stepmother approached and draped the pink taffeta
dress over a chair so that she could place the full, white
starched petticoat over his head.  After adjusting the shoulder
straps, she reached for the juvenile party dress and held it out
in front of the cowed and confused boy.  "Isn't this a sweet
dress dear?" she inquired teasingly.  Michael didn't know what to
say.  He knew he would be wearing the frilly, girlish attire
shortly, but was too overwhelmed to know what to say.  And he
definitely did not want to say the wrong thing.  "I asked you if
the dress was SWEET!" she insisted.  "Yes, mother, it is sweet,"
he mumbled.  She smiled, and proceeded to drape the dress over
his shoulders and down his body.  As she buttoned it up the back,
Michael couldn't help but notice how short the skirt seemed, and
how much the petticoat puffed it out about his thighs. 
          In short order his Stepmother placed pink lace trimmed
anklets and black mary janes on his feet, adding to his youthful,
girlish appearance.  Her task was completed as she brushed out
his longish blonde hair and secured a matching pink ribbon bow at
the rear.  He was again directed to sit on the bed and waited as
his Stepmother walked to the vanity and returned with several
items of makeup.  Michael had yet to see a mirror and view his
image, but he had no desire to do so.  He wanted to even less
after she finished applying his makeup, including blusher,
mascara, and lipstick, to his fair features.  She sprayed the
petticoated boy with perfume, and, finally satisfied with his
effeminate appearance, told him to stand, and addressed him
again. 
          "Now, Michael. . . it seems funny calling you that now
that you are dressed so nicely.  I'll have to think of something
else. . . .  Anyway, you're to follow me and remeber to behave
yourself.  You don't speak unless spoken to, and you certainly
don't act like the nasty brat that you've been since I became a
part of this household."  With that she walked out of the room
and left the door open for him to follow.  He hesitated at first,
but then obeyed and walked along behind her, the skirt and
petticoats bobbing and swishing strangely against his stockinged
legs. 
          The house was quiet as he walked slowly behind her down
the stairs, and as they approached the living room, she took firm
hold of his hand.  But the silence was shattered as he followed
her through the door into the room where, he had thought, her
gathering had ended an hour before. 
          The group of ten ladies, his Stepmother's and Amanda's
friends, erupted in a chorus of laughter and teasing comments as
Michael was walked into the center of the room.  At the first
sight of these guests he frantically tried to free himself from
his Stepmother's grasp, but without success.  He finally stopped
struggling and stood, head down, as the women and girls moved
closer and crowded about him.  "She's so adorable!" cried out
Karen, Amanda's best friend.  "And the dress is perfect.  It
really suits her, don't you think?"  "How do you like it, little
girl?" added Amanda in a mocking tone.  "How do you like wearing
a dress?"   
          These and other comments crashed down on Michael's ears
as the girls proceeded to pluck at his dress, fluffing out the
skirt over his stiff petticoat, adjusting the bows at the short,
puffed sleeves, and fingering the lace frills.  Eventually, his
Stepmother restored a degree of decorum to the gathering, and the
guests all took seats about the room, leaving Michael to stand at
the center of their attention.  His Stepmother spoke. 
          "Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to a new member of
my household.  This is Melissa," she gloated, standing to the
side and gesturing towards the feminized boy.  "Melissa darling,
walk over to our guests and greet them."  Michael/Melissa stared
dumbly at his/her Stepmother, and then slowly walked over to the
nearest guest and held out his hand.  "No, no, no.  Melissa,
prettly little ladies don't shake hands.  You should curtesy
gracefully, and say you are pleased to make the guest's
acquaintance.  And kiss each one on the cheek."  Melissa was
horrified at what was happening to him--what had he done to
deserve this??  What was she doing to him??  And the guests. 
They stood there expectantly, with broad smiles on their faces,
waiting their turn to greet the new little lady. 
          The first guest was Karen.  He stood before her, 
fumbled ashamedly with the hem of his skirt, and bobbed down as
he imagined how a girl performed a curtesy.   His Stepmother was
there again to correct him.  "No, Melissa dear.  My, my but you
do have so much to learn.  Take the hem daintily between your
fingertips, drop one foot behind you, and bend your legs slowly. 
And look directly into your guest's eyes while you curtesy.  She
wants to she how pretty you look."  Tears began to form in
Melissa's eyes as she tried again.  He had avoided looking at
anyone directly--his shame was just too humiliating.  Karen was a
tall girl and towered over him in her four inch heels.  He looked
up and saw her standing over him, with a smile that was sexy and
at the same time showed her strong sense of superiority over him. 
He took the lacy hem of the dress in his fingertips and curtesied
as instructed, his gaze locked on her smiling eyes.  Karen leaned
down and presented her cheek for Melissa's kiss.  "Oooh, Melissa,
you smell sooo pretty today," she teased.  By the time he had
finished greeting each of the guests, Melissa thought he could
never feel more mortified.  Melissa was wrong. 
          The party lasted all evening.  Melissa's silence was
not tolerated for long, and she was required to speak in the tone
of a little girl.  The conversation was directed entirely at the
new little girl on the block, and how much she would enjoy her
summer.  "My summer!!", Melissa screamed to herself, and finally
broke down.  But the tears simply brought more teasing comments
about how girlish he now was.  There was no escape.  When Amanda
suggested the nickname "Missy", the tears
	OOPS! Hope I didn't ruin anything!!!
	Well, nobody reads those stupied DOCS anyway!
havior and manners were a disgrace to the family,
and that he would spend the summer learning how to correct them
at her sister's home.  Perhaps at the end of the summer with Aunt
Mary, Missy would be "reformed."  Missy was called upon to model
the pretty party dress, and was devastated further by having to
describe every bit of clothing she was wearing, and how much she
liked each and every one.  Amanda, Karen, and her other friends
were screaching with laughter as Missy carried on about her
"favorite party dress and petticoats."   
          Missy arrived at her aunt's house the next day, wearing
a white lacy sheer blouse, pink skirt, white hose, and pink
heels.  In the ensuing weeks, she learned all there was to learn
about being a teenage girl--everything.  All signs of masculinity
or rebellion on her part were strictly forbidden, and punished
severely.


                        MELISSA--PART II

                              By Linda Lafrance

                                   Copyright 1989


          Missy had not met Aunt Mary before.  She was Missy's
Stepmother's sister, and Missy had never met anyone from that
side of the family.  So Missy had no idea what to expect when he
arrived at Aunt Mary's large, remote house.  And it was probably
better for him that he didn't.
          Aunt Mary didn't like males.  Unlike many women who
could not relate to living in a "man's" world, however, Aunt Mary
resolved long ago that she would DO something about it.  Over the
years she had developed a regimen for converting the macho male
ego into a submissive, feminine personality.  She knew how to do
it--she had done it many times before--and she was about to do it
again.
          Melissa was met at the door by two girls, each wearing
the "classic" uniform of a french maid:  black satin, lace
trimmed, short skirted uniforms, black patent leather pumps,
aprons, caps, and cuffs.  But more than that, the two girls were
feminine in the extreme, with beautiful long hair, artful makeup,
and totally girlish deamnors.  Missy's Stepmother left him in the
vestibule, and immediately began the return trip home.  The
maids, Angel and Daisy, led a cowed, silent Melissa to a large
bedroom on the second floor of the house, and immediately
undressed him.  The two maids could not have been more than a few
years older than Melissa, and he was reluctant to appear naked
before them.  But when Melissa tried to cover himself with his
hands, Angel stepped behind him and firmly grasped his wrists. 
Now defenseless, Melissa stood quietly as Daisy moved slowly
towards him, hips swaying beneath her abbreviated black satin
dress, and teasingly manipulated Melissa's penis until it stood
out straight and hard.  "What's this little girl?", she whispered
as she continued to tease the restrained Melissa.  But as her
touch brought Melissa closer and closer to orgasm, Daisy took a a
pink ribbon, tied it around the base of the Melissa's frustrated
erection and used it as a leash to lead Melissa into the
bathroom.
          "Into the tub, dear," said Daisy.  Melissa followed her
instructions and stood in the bathtub only to be covered with a
depilatory and ordered to stand still while it's work was done. 
Following a shower to remove the cream, and then a perfumed
bubble bath, Melissa was led back into his girlishly appointed
bedroom to be dressed by the maids.  While he wasn't looking
forward to donning more girl's clothing, he was sorely
disappointed that there was not more to wear.
          Angel picked up a lacy, frilled pink garter belt and
wrapped it about Melissa's waist, while Daisy prepared sheer pink
hose for his legs.  The young she-boy was then seated at a vanity
where the two maids applied a thorough covering of makeup,
including thick black mascara, eyeshadow, foundation, lipstick,
and blusher.  Long pink nails were glued to his fingertips, and
Melissa's longish blonde hair was wrapped in a silly top knot
above his head with a wide pink satin ribbon.  Four inch pink
heels were placed upon his feet, and he was liberally perfumed. 
As the crowning glory, Daisy withdrew a pink, lacy sheath, with a
wide "petticoat skirt" which was secured tightly around the base
of Melissa's penis.  The pink ribbon was again attached, this
time around his balls, and Melissa was understandably shocked
when the maids began to lead him from the room.
          "I can't leave here like this!" he complained.  They
were the first words he had spoken during the entire ordeal. 
Daisy sweetly responded "Why of course you can Missy....you've
been dressed just as your Aunty ordered."  Despite Melissa's
brief struggle, the maids brought him down to meet Aunt Mary for
the first time.
          Melissa stumbled into the living room on his unfamiliar
heels.  As he entered, an older woman rose from a chair with a
wide smile on face.  "Well, well.....Melissa dear, I'm so pleased
to meet you!" she exclaimed, and walked over to the sissifed boy. 
She took the pink ribbon reins from Angel and gazed down into
Melissa's eyes.  "Do you know why you're here Melissa?" she asked
as she pulled the ribbon tightly.
          Melissa/Michael reached for the ribbon to relieve the
tension created by Aunt Mary's tug, but was stopped by Angel and
Daisy, who grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind his back.   
       "That was a mistake Missy darling,"  Aunt Mary stated. 
"You've got a lot to learn, and the very first lesson is that you
DO NOT EVEN THINK of opposing me in anything I wish to do!  And
if I wish to CUT THIS DAMN THING OFF, I'll do as I please!"  And
with that she yanked the ribbon causing Missy to cry out and fall
to his knees.  Angel and Daisy maintained their grips on
Melissa's wrists, and he found himself kneeling on the floor with
the two maids holding his wrists up against the middle of his
back.  
          In school Michael had been a fair wrestler, and his
instincts told him he could escape from this hold.  His instincts
were wrong however, as he was hampered by the long nails on his
fingers.  And as soon as he started to struggle he felt his balls
practically wripped from his body by Aunt Mary's vicious tugs on
the pink ribbon attached to his scrotum.  He was quickly subdued,
with his hands cuffed behind his back, once again standing before
Aunt Mary.  "It always amazes me how the male ego forces you
people to do such stupid things, Missy honey, and you have just
done a very stupid thing.  You're here to unlearn that ego, and
I'm going to do it.  For the entire summer you'll be trained to
behave as a VERY OBEDIENT YOUNG LADY......and I stress all four
of those words.  "Very", because there will be no question about
what you have become.  "Obedient" because you will, without
question, obey me, and EVERY other woman or girl you encounter. 
"Young", because I believe you will be more subservient if your
status is not only that of a sissy girl, but of a youthful little
sissy girl.  And "lady", because you will be as feminine as you
can imagine, multiplied by 10!"  
          During this speech Melissa stood before Aunt Mary, head
down, and breathing heavily.  "Now, do you intend to cooperate,
Melissa dearie, or do I have to use additional methods to gain
your attention?"  Melissa neither moved nor responded to the
question.  "Very well sweetie, you'll learn soon enough.  Take
her over to the pedestal girls", Aunt Mary directed.
          Daisy and Angel directed Melissa over to a slightly
raised area at the end of the long room.  Although Melissa's walk
in the heels was far from satisfactory to Aunt Mary, she made no
move at present to correct it.  Melissa was seated on the
carpeted pedestal, hands still cuffed behind his back.  Daisy
reached down and pulled the lid off little trap door just at
Melissa's crotch and reached into the enclosure to pull out a
pink leather and small link chain contraption which she promptly
locked around Melissa's scrotum, thus securely imprisoning him on
the carpeted pedestal.  Thin pink leather straps were place
around each ankle and fastened to small rings attached to the
floor.  And mirrors were moved into place so that Melissa could
see his reflection, seated on the pink carpeted pedestal, in
hose, heels, and makeup, with his penis daintily covered by the
little slip and petticoat.
          "Do you like your new seat Missy sweets", inquired a
gloating Aunt Mary.  Melissa struggled to get up but quickly
learned that he would remain seated in that spot until someone
removed the lock on the chain coming out of the floor.  Aunt Mary
approached her seated captive and stood directly in front of him. 
"I asked a question young lady, and I expect an answer!" 
Melissa, tears beginning to form in his eyes as he saw his image
in the mirrors, moaned his negative response.  "Noooo", he whined
as the tears came more quickly.  "Well I can fix that", Aunt Mary
replied, and gestured to Daisy and Angel.
          The maids minced around behind Melissa and bent him
forward at the waist, exposing another small trap door which they
removed.  Melissa was then allowed to again sit upright.  Aunt
Mary walked over to a table and pushed a button on a remote
control device.  Within seconds Melissa started to squirm as he
felt pressure against his anus.  The pressure increased and
Melissa let out a scream as he felt the electrically operated
dildo rise out of the floor and deeply penetrate his bottom. 
Aunt Mary pushed another button and the dildo began to vibrate,
causing Melissa's penis to erect within his little pink penis
petticoat.  "I'll bet you like your seat now, don't you Missy
dear?" laughed Aunt Mary.  Melissa's tears slowly subsided as the
pleasure from Aunt Mary's treatment began to overwhelm him.  But
just as he began to reach orgasm the dildo was removed and
Melissa was left frustrated.
          Aunty Mary removed the cuffs from Melissa's wrists and
stood back in front of the dispirited boy.  "Now here are the
rules for your punishment seat, sissy Missy.  Place your elbows
at your sides and bend them at ninety degrees.  Then let your
wrists flop down......ooooohhhhh, don't you just look the
sweetest like that?  You are NOT permitted to move your arms or
hands, and you are particularly NOT to touch your little dickie! 
Indeed, so long as you are in this house you will never touch it! 
Now, you will repeat after me:  My name is Melissa, and I want to
learn to be a prissy little sissy girl.  Say it!"
          Unfortunately, Melissa was not quick enough to respond
and thus quickly learned another feature of his punishment
pedestal, as he received a small electric shock on his scrotum. 
It was not really painful, but was enough to gain his attention. 
He repeated her words, stumbling over them, and speaking in a
quiet voice.  "Not good enough girl.....you should have a nice
sweet feminine lilt to your voice.  And you should sound like you
mean it!  Try again", Aunt Mary directed.  After many tries
Melissa had the voice down to where Aunt Mary was somewhat
satisfied with his first efforts.
          And thus began Melissa's girlie training under Aunt
Mary.  The punishment pedestal became a frequent place for
Melissa to spend a large part of his day, and Aunt Mary made good
use of all of it's features.  As the days and weeks passed,
Melissa learned first to speak as a properly trained young lady. 
This included not only the proper voice, but the proper words as
well.  He was shortly talking of how he would just LOVE to wear a
pretty dress, even though during this period he never wore
anything other than his hose, heels, garter belt, "princess"
penis petticoat, makeup, and nails.  Melissa was also instructed
in the appropriate gestures for his hands, after demonstrating
that he could hold them at right angles with the wrists limp for
several hours at a time.
          He was next taught to apply makeup from this seat. 
Daisy and Angel, eager participants in Melissa's training,
brought a vanity table with short legs which was placed over
Melissa's lap, and within a matter of weeks, Melissa had
graduated to styling and curling his own hair.  Progress was not
always easy, however, especially because all of the hand
movements accompanying these tasks had to be carried out with the
utmost of feminine flair.  And when progress was slow, Aunt Mary
was quick to take corrective action until, over time, Melissa
came to learn that the initial shock received that first day was
mild compared to the full capability of the punishment pedestal. 
          On other occasions, when Melissa had created a
particularly cute look with his makeup and hair perhaps, Aunt
Mary would start up the vibrator and move it in and out, allowing
Melissa to achieve orgasm while viewing his feminine reflection
in the mirrors in front of the pedestal.  Melissa was also
required to speak in his newly learned feminine voice while Aunt
Mary manipulated the dildo.  "Ooooh......Auntie.....I just LOVE
being a girlie", he would squeal, as Aunt Mary encouraged him on. 
During these episodes she would often remind Missy that,
"Touching of your little princess of a dickie is not permitted
sissy Missy!"
          After many weeks, most of which was spent seated on the
pedestal, Melissa was allowed to begin the next part of his
training....dress and deportment.  Having already achieved a more
cooperative attitude on Melissa's part, Aunt Mary encouraged the
boy to participate in the selection of outfits from the large
wardrobe maintained in the home.  And so, about mid-way through
the summer Melissa found himself standing naked in his bedroom,
meekly asking Angel for his "little prissy princess petticoat for
my little sissy dickie", and standing modestly before her as she
put the lacy confection in place.  Aunt Mary required Melissa to
ask for each item.
          "Please Auntie, may I wear the lovely sheer pink
panties with the white lacy ruffles on the seat?", Missy
requested.
          "But of course dear, and I know you'll love them too",
responded Aunt Mary.  After donning sheer pink hose, white lace
anklets, a pink silk vest with lace and ribbon trim, the ever
present four inch heels, and a corset, Melissa found it time to
request the appropriate slip.  Throughout the entire training
period Michael/Melissa frequently experienced moments like this,
the utter humiliation of having to debase himself in this way
conflicting with the anticipation he had come to experience,
looking forward to wearing such frilly, girlish clothing.  "May I
wear the white petticoat slip also Auntie?"  "Which one pet", she
replied, "the narrow slip with the 3 inch lace border at the hem,
or the darling full crinoline petti that buttons up the back so
that you can't remove it without asking politiely?" she teased.  
        "Oh, Aunty, I think I'd like to wear the full petti
today, if I may, please?"  Such exchanges rarely left Melissa
without an erection, and the feminized boy shuddered as the stiff
petticoat was lowered over his shoulders and came in contact with
the princess dickie petti he wore.  "Which dress do you want to
wear today Missy?" asked Aunt Mary as she walked over to a large
wardrobe and opened the door to reveal twenty to thirty darling
party frocks.  
          "May I wear a pink one today please," he meekly
responded.  "Why Missy, that's the third day in a row you've
wanted to wear pink!", exclaimed Aunt Mary with a teasing lilt to
her voice and a wide, knowing smile on her face.  "Wouldn't you
like to wear a pretty yellow, or perhaps this lovely lavender
one?"  "Oh Aunty", Melissa replied,  "They are very pretty yes,
but I think I want to wear pink again........please?"  By this
time the exchange between them had caused Melissa's princess
dickie petti to dampen from his excitement, although as ordered,
he didn't even think of trying to touch it.  Indeed, he chose a
pink dress precisely because he had come to find it to be the
most likely to excite him.  "Of course, my little sissy girl, you
can wear your precious pink if you wish", Aunt Mary said with a
laugh, and she moved to the large selection of pink dresses in
the closet.  "But which one dearie.  We have such a nice choice
available."
          Melissa swished in his heels and petticoat over to the
closet and pointed to a particularly lovely little chiffon dress,
with puffed short lace trimmed sleeves, a high ruffled neck, and
three lace trimmed tiers on the short skirt.  "Why Missy honey,
you'll look like you're six years old in this pretty dress!",
Aunt Mary teased.  "But then, I guess you'd look like that
regardless of which dress you chose, wouldn't you princess?" 
Daisy and Angel lowered the dress over Missy's shoulders, being
careful not to mess the curly hairstyle he had fashioned earlier
that morning.  Now completed dressed, Melissa minced over to the
triple full length mirror which dominated one wall of the room
and completed the ritual he had learned.
          Curtseying to his image of a large, but pretty little
girl, incongruently wearing four inch heels, Melissa smiled
widely, and in his most effeminate voice looked at Aunt Mary's
reflection and exclaimed "Oooooooooh!  I'm such a pretty little
girl today!  Thank you so much for helping me be the perfect
sissy Aunt Mary!"  And with that, as his training had encouraged,
Missy came in the little princess petti while Aunt Mary, Daisy,
and Angel looked on with giggles and laughter.
          At first Missy's day in dresses consisted of further
lessons in feminine behavior.  Walking, sitting, the curtsey, and
others, were all thoroughly taught and ingrained.  No longer
attached to the wires on the pedestal, his cooperation and
attention where assured by the birches held by Angel and Daisy,
who were, like Aunt Mary, swift to encourage Missy's proper
progress.
          After several more weeks, Melissa found himself being
exposed to others, sometimes on shopping trips where, dressed in
a fashion more becoming his age, he was never detected as a boy
by any of the shop clerks in the boutiques they visited.  On
other occasions, Aunt Mary invited her friends for a visit,
several of whom had young boys in petticoat training themselves. 
Thus, Melissa learned to hostess a tea party, with perhaps four
of Aunt Mary's friends, and their darling little prissy boys as
guests.
          The ladies all enjoyed these gatherings immensely, but
the best fun occured the day these ladies brought their real
daughters along as well.  Missy and his new found "girl" friends
were dressed as French Maids for this occasion, and the daughters
had the finest time, requiring these sissy boys to provide the
most demanding maid service in the most feminine way.  Melissa
found it to be the ultimate humiliation of the summer.....to have
to stand submissively before these pretty girls who knew his true
sex, and act as a serving girl for their amusement.  "Oh Missy,
you do look adorable in that maids outfit.....and who did your
hair?  It's simply precious!",  and all the girls would giggle as
Missy would have to admit that he was so talented in feminine
arts that he had given himself a home permanent!  The afternoon
ended when each boy-maid was required to lift his skirts and
pettis and allow the girls to attach a lead to the loop in their
princess dickie pettis (which by that time were quite full with
their erections) and lead the boys to the upstairs bedrooms for
the ultimate in "maid" service.
          But if Melissa thought the humiliation of that day was
without equal, he had not counted on what would happen at the end
of the summer.    