A Spanking

 

“Get into your favorite position,” said Miss B. Panties could hear her testing her leather belt. “Which alphabet do you want to say?” The last spanking Panties had to say each letter followed by the word “panties,” followed by a stroke of the belt. Since then Panties had practiced saying the alphabet, each letter followed by “my vagina.” Panties said she would be happy saying which ever Miss B preferred. She told Panties to choose. Panties choose the Vagina Alphabet. “Lift up your nightie,” sing-sang Miss B. Panties did as she was told and waited. But Miss B was waiting for her to begin. “‘A’ My vagina...” Crack of leather! “‘B’ my vagina...” Crack of leather! “‘C’ my vagina...” Miss B wasn't happy about how Panties said "C." "Start over," she said. “‘A’ My vagina...” Crack of leather! “‘B’ my vagina...” Even though Panties was wearing pantihose over her panties, she was soon writhing, after each stroke. Miss B was expertly distributing the strokes, but she was really putting her strength into each strike. Panties was ordered to put extra passion into enunciating "C," "O," and "Y" with "my vagina." By the end, Panties was quivering. Miss B cheerfully went on about Panties’ new life and how she was going to be used. But after a while she said, “Now you can say your Panty Alphabet.” Panties cringed. “Do you want your Barbie for comfort?” Miss B handed Panties Hip-2B-Square Barbie. Panties began to recite her Panty Alphabet, tensed as each letter went by without a stroke. By ‘T’ she felt that Miss B would spare her. But on ‘Z’ Miss B struck Panties hard, followed by a volley of hard spanks. “Aw, did that hurt? Do you get comfort from your Barbie?” Her voice was kindly and soft. Panties could hear the light rhythmic slap of the leather belt against her palm. Panties remained in her favorite position listening to Miss B. Miss B wanted Panties to buy her a new pair of shoes on line. “Purple with green soles. Aren’t you looking forward to kissing the bottoms?” Panties had been used to kissing Miss B’s feet or the top of her shoes, but recently she had been raising the toe for Panties to kiss the dirty soles of her shoes. The slap of leather had stopped. “Now I want you to say your Vagina Alphabet again.” The spanking was hard and merciless. Panties would feel it all the next day under her panties and sanitary belt.

Saturday

Miss B had told Panties she would be by Wednesday. Panties got a text in the evening saying she would be leaving around 8. By ten, Panties was worried and called her. She explained that a friend had called and that she wouldn’t be coming. She said she would be over on Thursday and for Panties to be dressed and ready. Panties waited for her all day happily and prepared dinner for her. Then Miss B called and said she didn’t feel like training after yoga and that she was going home to be with her cat. Today. Miss B came by after meeting with friends. She looked extra pretty and relaxed and a after a very intense conversation (which is radioactive to the extent that is probably will be made available only by special request or maybe in the annex blog) with Panties she took a shower. She watched a PBS documentary as Panties served her a toasted ham and cheddar sandwich with garlic and olive oil with a cup of wildberry tea. She remarked matter-of-factly that she would not be going to the scene party that evening Panties had been looking forward to all week because she preferred to hang out with Miss T and one or two of her other friends. Panties hurried to refill her water glass which she accepted without a word. Just the sound of her munching. Her damp copper hair catches the afternoon light. She’s napping now lying on Panties’ bed with her feet on the pillow. Panties covered her with a blanket. “Wake me around 4,” she said.

It was dark when she finally woke. She was making plans to meet her friends when suddenly she remarked she would rather go to the party. Panties hurried to shower and make up and dress. Miss B looked at a few skirts but decided to go casual. We arrived before midnight at a downstairs space built up with a wood maze with peepholes cut out. There were several beds and a shower and slings and harnesses and workbenches. Some people had brought beer to go with the bottles of coke and plates of fig newtons and cookies. (Panties was hoping for mints to counter the garlicy meal she and Miss B had eaten.) There was mostly whipping and spanking. One women, getting breast tortured. Many high sighs of pain-to-pleasure. One big couple filled one closet with their coupling. Later, there was an activity where you tape on numbers so that anyone who fancies you writes down your number (Miss B: 6, Panties: 29, and Barbie: 47) along with what that person would like to do to/with you. Everyone was mostly shy about it. The idea is to discretely spy someone’s number so that it is a mystery when their number is called. But “6” was called right away. Panties ran into Karen who is from down South but sounds Russian. She was keeping an eye on her friend who was entangled under a lot of flesh on one of the beds. Late in the evening Panties met S. and E. who weren’t wearing numbers. They were watching an ambiguously gendered person in panties, bra and fishnets, ram, and cuddle, roughly with his/her lover. Panties had met S. possibly, somewhere before, perhaps at Cattyshack? Also on the way out, there was Julia, just for a second. It was a friendly crowd. And you didn’t feel you were going to get sprayed with something messy at any second. There was one big aggressive queen who didn’t bother to check his male shtick at the top of the stairs. But the party was clearly a feminine affair. Most of the smallish males were apparently F-T-M. Panties found Miss B sitting not that contentedly with her admirer in one of the cubicles. She had Panties come in and introduce Barbie. Soon after it was close to 2 and we exited, took a few purply photos at the front door and caught a cab. On one of the back streets Panties pointed to a corner apartment where the lights were on behind the drawn blinds. The apartment over it was also lit. On the street right below several men were hanging out. Panties didn’t have time to get the camera out. And that’s how the night wound down. Ω

Protect UR Panties

Panties isn’t allowed the convenience of pads. Rather Panties has to use the old fashioned, sanitary napkins that hook to an elastic sanitary belt. They still sell the napkins at CVS but Panties can’t find the belts anywhere. Maybe you can get them down south or somewhere in the midwest, places like Missouri or Iowa. In case you aren’t familiar with the routine, Panties menstruates from the 1st to the 14th of each month. (No sex during menstruation!) The first five days Panties has to wear tampons and tend to her flow (which is red and sticky and cold and is kept in the refrigerator.) After that Panties can wear just her sanitary napkin for the remainder of her period which Miss B lengthened to 30 days just before the Christmas Pageant. This was part of a punishment for an unauthorized act of disobedience by Panties. Panties knew Surf Barbie would tell, but did not anticipate the severity of the punishment. So this month Panties has another six days menstruating. Then it stops on the 31st :) before starting again on the first. Then Panties can beg Miss B for forgiveness, but in any case February only has 28 days, so as it stands, Panties can look forward to March 31st barring any accidents before then.

Protect Your Panties

My Size Barbie

She only comes up to Panties’ waist but she fills a room with her presence. In a certain light she has a mild vulnerability about her that fills Panties with a pink longing. (Maybe for a hug from a real girl.) My Size Barbie has thick black lashes and a gentle, pretty expression. Miss B was immediately concerned for Hip-2-B-Square Barbie. “You are not to touch her,” she ordered when she first saw the three-foot doll. “I know it’s hard with her just standing there looking pretty. But you have a fiancée. Think of how she would feel.” Panties thinks Hip-2-B-Square Barbie is jealous but she is more understanding than Miss B thinks. Maybe because of the sisterhood of Barbies. Or she thinks she can put up with My Size Barbie more than if Panties cheated on her with a girl of flesh and blood. (Ha! scoffs Miss B.) Miss B doesn’t object to Panties fooling around with any of the other Barbies (except for Surf Barbie who would never stand for it), but somehow, the idea of Panties having intimate relations with anything bigger than the tiny Barbies is not pathetic enough. Miss B loves how tiny the normal Barbies are. How Panties has trouble holding their hands even. “I may let you sleep with her, but I may not,” said Miss B, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Finances

She asked about Panties’ savings, she asked for Panties’ social security number. She has Panties’ credit card number. “Lines have been crossed,” she explained. Panties can already make out other lines faintly not all that far down the road. “At some point you will make me a credit card,”she said. “You will have to ask permission to use yours. At some point you won’t even know the password to your bank card,” she said. “At some point you’ll have an allowance. A small allowance. Maybe $5 a day, to buy tampons and things. And soon after you will be in the lawyer’s office [in your special dress] with all the papers ready to be signed.” For now though, she already has Panties trained to obey. “I’m going out for drinks tonight and I need $20,” she said. Or last week: “You can dress up, wig and makeup and we’ll go out for dinner. Somewhere nice. It’s not a date, of course, but I just want a nice meal. And I don’t want to pay.” Recently she’s been studying real estate. She wanted to know exactly how much Panties’ coop has appreciated and how much of a mortgage Panties could afford. “I want a house,” she said, “a place with a living room and a bedroom and at least three bedrooms, not including the basement where you’ll live.” She is calculating how far out for how much extra space she can expect. “You’re going to help make my life,” she said calmly. “I’ll live in the house with two of my friends and you’ll be the maid. You’ll have to obey my friends. You’ll do their laundry and cook and clean, and scrub the floors. That’s the worst, I hate cleaning the floor. You’ll do it because it makes me happy. And that’s what will make you happy. You’ll be very happy.” ☺

Rain

Last night the skies grieved. If it had been just a little colder, there would have been snow falling instead of the chilled rain. Panties recalled Miss B’s words: “There was a girl once who was happy to see you....” There was. Panties met her in the early evening fully disguised in her ridiculous clothes and her dishonest false former self. She held Panties’ arm as they walked along under the umbrella. They fell into that easy rapport born of their many hours together. Later they were looking for a place to eat. They chose a place where there were no customers. Everything was very good though. Usually you avoid places where there are no customers, because you assume they are empty for a reason. But in fact if you think about it, you will get a better meal if the chef isn’t rushed, especially if he or she has any pride. The staff probably is self-conscious about the empty room and will try harder than usual. We had the whole restaurant to ourselves and the food was great. Dessert, some kind of apple crumb pastry, was fresh from the oven. We took pictures with the globe lights reflected in the big windows. It didn’t feel like an impersonation or the return to a delusion. Although Panties would go to bed in a bra and panties and nightgown, the legitimacy of the evening was something Miss B would, Panties believes, acknowledge, even were she not by nature generous in that way.

She Said

“Panties, get me a glass of water.” “Bring me a fork.” “Turn on the television.” “Panties, aren’t you ashamed?” “Panties I think it’s time to open your package.” “Panties, I want you to try it on in front of your mirror.” “Curtsy.” “Curtsy to show your panties.” “Scrub out the tub.” “Panties, you’re happy, aren’t you?” “You’ve never been so happy.”

Wardrobe -2

Panties New Wardrobe - 2
“You’re going to give away most of your ‘ridiculous’ clothing,” she said. “You’ll number all your outfits and I’ll dress you like a doll.” Girls who have played with dolls know how difficult it is to dress a Barbie. Panties appreciates how much work it is just to change Barbie into sleepwear. (She sleeps in her Hip-2-B square dress, mostly because Panties has been lazy about it, but Barbie has never complained yet.) Even with the velcro strips, it takes a lot of time to change outfits. In particular it is hard slipping hose, or panties up Barbie’s long legs. Miss B’s system for dressing Panties will be a matter of her choosing a number. Number 19 might be a peasant skirt and blouse set with pantihose. Number 3 might be a 1 piece swim suit. There is already a system corresponding to need. For example, 5 would be a girl’s shirt and slacks tailored like a m*n’s. Apart from the shirt buttoning left under right, the outfit would not attract attention. It would be suitable for running errands when service to Miss B is the priority. A 4 might have certain detailing, color, length, cut, that would signify “sissy.” The V-Yoke Jeans from National probably would figure here. Dressed thusly, Panties could still go about the city serving Miss B and her friends, unencumbered by disfunctional footwear and without too much bother about passing. Each descending number would be increasingly sissy. Around 3, Panties would probably be carrying a purse. 1 would probably be tight floral pants or hot pants, if not a culotte. 0 means full women’s attire, complete with wig and makeup. This isn’t really the point of the scale which actually is meaningful only from 1-5. With Panties first big wardrobe already in transit, Miss B’s long term vision begins to come clear as Panties closets pinken and soften, with pastels and light blues replacing the darker colors and masculine lines.

Panties New Wardrobe

 

If you leaf through the National catalog you will see a number of grape-color Xs marking the clothing Miss B has found suitable for Panties. High-waisted Stretch VV-YokeJeans with an elastic waistband; Wrinkle-resistant easy care, pink-and-teal plaid shirts; a dowdy, cardboard gray, polyester-rayon-spandex Swann Button-front Skirt. She avoided anything light and feminine or at all trendy. Panties was disappointed, but of course didn’t complain. She liked the rainbow striped Plissé Lounger by Leisure Life. Convenient step-in zipper. All-around colorblcking. Side-seam pockets. Miss B said she didn’t have any real logic for her choices, just her taste for how she would like to dress her sissy. She said she was helping Panties develop her particular taste in clothes and that Panties could start filling out her new wardrobe based on these styles. Panties doesn’t think there is a single thing in the entire catalog Miss B would be caught wearing. But you may see Panties on the street wearing a blousy shirt (large plaids) and maybe a pair of Knit Pull-on Pantes. Fabulous stretch comfort. Elastic waist. Simply slip them on right out of your dryer. Miss B found the permanent creases down each leg tremendously amusing. Panties ordered through their 800 number. A very polite young woman (“Yes, Ma’am...”) helped Panties with the arcane sizing. You can probably request a catalog through. Www.shopnational.com

A Letter From Surf Barbie

Hi {B}

Thanks for that note which I made Panties print out and tape up where she has to see it constantly. She sometimes disrespects my authority and acts like she’s somehow better (lol) than me and hip2b. But she knows I can see into every corner of her mind so she of course is afraid of you and I getting too close. Last night she wanted to go see a movie (There Will be Blood) I decided this would not be a good start to the weekend but didn’t outlaw it because she said you would have let her. So instead I made her take me and Hip2b along because we like movies too. And she had to put on her nylons and garterbelt and bring her lipstick and mirror. And borrowing a page from your training I told Panties to watch the movie “as a sissy.” (She was complaining bitterly about your asking her favorite book and then telling her to read it as a sissy. This cuts to the heart of her transformation in so many ways.) So Panties was sitting in the movie theater with two dolls experiencing the movie as a sissy should. Her attention perked up when the little girl appeared in her dress. And she could disapprove of the men (the opposite sex) with their violent ways. And any attractive woman who came on she had to think of as competition, or someone to model herself after, rather than someone to have sex with. She wasn’t quite able to do this all the time, but it was a good start. I think she gets the idea that there is NO LIMIT to the things she could be ordered to experience, mentally, “as a sissy.” After the movie Panties caught the eye of a pretty girl standing in line and put on her lipstick. She wiped it off and later, passed three pretty girls one of which she made eye contact with. Again Panties took out her lipstick and mirror and did her lips. Finally, in front of a bar there was an attractive brunette smoking. Panties made eye contact and standing nearby, put on her lipstick. This girl gave Panties a look. She definitely saw. But the whole exercise impressed upon Panties how we can dictate how she relates to women. This morning I made her say her panty alphabet and kiss my feet. Then she had to go stand on one leg in front of the mirror and read her new sign. Wearing her nightie. The hours she normally likes to devote to her m*nly ambitions, instead she spent reviewing your training alternating with intense quality time with Hip2b Square which she enjoyed. I’m not sure you would have been so generous, but I thought this could someday be the major thing in Panties’ life, along with being used by you, (although the two are very related) and that what she thinks she’s getting away with is actually pushing her deeper into the life you intend for her. She got a call from Miss D whom she did not speak to properly, but otherwise she has been sissy sissy sissy today. I even got her back to crying out “Panties!” every hour. BTW, she was stood up by Miss N (after all that talk) and I have her training this evening which maybe I will have her post directly to her on-line journal.

Hope you’re having a good weekend, {B}. Feel free to turn Panties over to me whenever you need.

Hugs,

SB

It's the Weekend

E-mail this afternoon from Miss B:

Hello surf Barbie,

I would like you to make sure that panties a good sissy this weekend and to remind her that there is a 0% chance of her being my boyfriend, because of course she is not a boy. And that there is a 0% chance of her escaping.

Thank you

Wednesday

It was a warm spring day in January, the kind of day you don’t want to waste indoors. But Miss B had said we would train either at 4 or 8. She had a class at 6 so 4 was much more convenient for her. Panties was tempted to half-tell the truth and get her to come at 8, but she felt a genuine want to prioritize Miss B’s best interests and not take advantage of her genial generosity. (Surf Barbie threatens to tell her how it is so in her power just to command). But Panties believes Miss B chooses not to maybe not because she doesn’t think Panties is ready and willing (“she is,” chirps Surf Barbie), but more because she is not by nature a pushy or mean-spirited person. Dangerous yes, but really a very nice girl. She is never bitchy or unreasonable. She might be tired or sad, but never without explanation. So with a warm breeze entering the room and the sun shining outside, Panties knelt at the door to kiss both soles of Miss B’s boots and barked happily as she came in. Panties served her water (with a slice of lime) and later ice cream with little squares of chocolate. Miss B spoke of, among other things, a house she was looking to buy. She intends to find a place where Panties can be her full time maid, living either in the basement, or some minimal closet space. “Do you have any moral objections to repossessed houses?” she asked. She plans a household of one or two of her girl friends or any girl who might want to split the finances (and have all her laundry, ironing, cooking, etc. done by Panties. It’s going to happen. Around 5:30 she was ready to leave. The door flashed open, Panties, on her knees caught a glimpse of her calm, adored face. “Panties loves you,” said Panties. “I know,” she said, and was gone.

Pink Leotard

This happened over a year ago: Miss J and Miss Jill took her to Crunch where she nervously put up her hair, surrounded by a large crowd of young women in casual sweats, t-shirts with bare feet. Not a single leotard or legwarmer. Miss J and Miss Jill herded her where the other girls could get a good look. And they did when she stripped out of her pink trainer revealing her pink leotard and fishnet stockings. The workout started. Several girls laughed openly. Miss Jill kept calling out, encouragingly. The disruption was not lost on the instructor who was rather perplexed. Imagine the room full of sweating girls, music, mirrors. It went on and on. The lunges, squats, and dance moves. It went just as predicted on the training site. The site mistress says she never heard of anyone actually carrying out the ingenius assignment. But you can go to two Crunch gyms where there are a number of regulars who would remember.

http://sexyadulthost.com/users/sissystation/assignment13.htm

Miss B Reads the Tea Leaves

“You’ll have a very satisfying sex life. Diaper squirts, as many as you like. Almost like a real man. But so different. [sound of her reaching into the bag of Wheat Thins, then chewing] Soo different. Then there’s Barbie. That’ll be where you get your love. And as for touching human flesh, we’ll find you another transvestite. You’ll have to wear a strap on, just like any girl. And you’ll get to do another transvestite. And then you’ll perform your transvestite’s kiss. You’ll get to know it, talk to it. You like the way it smells, don’t you? I want you to look forward to it. I want your mouth to be watering. Maybe you can read it a poem. Or make your animal sounds. Won’t that be entertaining. Maybe you’ll have to take his medicine. [her gay laughter] And I’ll watch. Won’t that be humiliating. He’ll get to squirt but you won’t.”

Saturday Night

Miss B had already made herself at home when Panties returned in the evening. Panties had called her from the restaurant where she purchased pasta cooked to order in garlic and olive oil. Panties made Miss B a salad and served her dinner with a glass of water and apple tea. Miss B watched television while Panties showered and changed into a training outfit consisting of Barbie panties and top, pantihose, and a red training nightie. Miss B was amused by the Barbie wear. She called for a belt and ordered Panties into her “favorite position.” Panties asked Miss B for a date, answering each plea with hard strokes of the belt. Soon Panties was reluctant to ask for anything. Panties requested permission to look into Miss B’s face and was allowed to kneel facing her. Panties whined about her punishment schedule lasting through March. Miss B was unwilling to allow any early squirts before April, but she told Panties that she could have instead, a nice diaper squirt on Sunday. Miss B lightly brushed off Panties’ defiant assertion of her desire to kiss a girl or have sexual intercourse. Frustrated, Panties spoke of wanting to one day touch Miss B as would a m*n. Miss B’s face darkened and she said if that happened, she would disappear and Panties would be left alone. Panties argued that she might do so to escape the lifetime Miss B planned for her. Miss B said Panties would not escape. That she would find someone cruel to take over. “You would never see me again, but you’d still be trained. There would be a knock on the door...”

And then she struck Panties in the face. Hard. Her eyes flashed with menace. “You won’t ever touch me. Or any girl. “ Her face twisted in disgust. “You are a repulsive transvestite! I want you to know how disgusting you are.” Then she hit Panties again in the face. It was almost a punch. “But you would never touch me,” she said, brightening suddenly. “You wouldn’t want to. You are not capable of behaving like that.” Panties knew this was true, that Panties’ threat, really, just daring to verbalize what would be seen as simple boorish behavior for a real m*n, was the pathetic far limits of her defiance. When Panties dared meet Miss B’s eyes, she was again the fair-haired girl-next-door. It was close to 9. Miss B hurried out to rent several DVDs leaving Panties feeling small, sissy, inferior, obedient, awed by this pretty, mercurial, girl.

Christmas Pageant - 6

 

There followed more songs, poetry, and dance recorded on mini DV and camera. At one point Miss B called over Panties and bid her kneel. For more than a year Miss D had been pointedly expressing her preference for Panties as a sissy. She always strongly requested that Panties in her presence be attired as a female or at least in effeminate clothes. Recently Panties had dinner with Miss D in a wonderful Moroccan restaurant in Queens wearing a blouse, slacks, bra and panties without wig or makeup. You could only tell if you looked closely, or thought twice about the handbag, or the shoes. Panties had been resisting going to the opening of a play Miss D had written taking advantage of her reluctance to force the issue. Now Miss B stepped in with authority: “Panties, Miss D has something she wants to say to you and you are to obey. Do you understand?” Panties nodded and Miss D spoke carefully and firmly: “Panties, do you know when and where the play is being performed?” Panties nodded. “I want you to go as Panties.” She went on to instruct Panties how she was to dress for the evening. (“Something nice. A skirt or dress, nothing too short or too slutty.”) Miss D was friendly, but it was no longer a request or a favor. She asked Panties what she had in her closet that might be appropriate. (“Can we see?” asked Miss T.) They wanted a fashion show, but Panties ended up showing several skirt, blouse combinations which Miss D approved of. Finally, Miss D instructed Panties how she was to behave (deferential, soft-spoken, courteous) when she was introduced. “You are not to criticize anything or initiate a conversation.” Her parting words burn forever in Panties’ mind: “I want you to have a good time, dressed as a woman.” Miss B asked for a show of hands (three), who wanted to be addressed from here ever after as “Miss.” With an automatic fine if Panties dared ever to call them simply by name.

For the finale, Panties read a final five poems with the girls trying to guess which was written for whom. Then the girls opened their presents. Each were handed a holiday bag. Inside were gift certificates, candy, chocolate and a copy of their poems. Panties was surprised when she was handed two presents. One was a Barbie “A Wedding to Remember” photo book from Miss B. The other was a Barbie card with a drawing on the front of a girl in a pink dress, frothy slip showing, talking on the phone while holding a date book. Panties felt a sharp pang as she read the note from her one true friend in the room that evening, the fun, pretty, smart girl she had hoped to one day date or even kiss. “Dear Panties, Congratulations on ‘coming out’ and letting go of your manly pretensions. This is a big step for you. All the best in your new life. Ms. D”

It wasn’t close to midnight, but the girls had to work the next day. They exchanged goodbye hugs and kisses. Miss D and Miss T left together, then Panties arranged for a cab to take Miss Di home. Finally Miss B sat Panties down. “Look at the floor...” she began. “Well, I think that was very successful,” she said, “the first in your series of coming out parties.” She asked to see a calendar and picked a date in April. “It’s not like you think, ‘oh, good, that’s over. No, as soon as one finishes, there will immediately be another coming. And then another and another. And they’ll become more and more intense. I think we’ll rent a space eventually, and we’ll invite 50-100 women for you to entertain.” And Panties finally got it. She saw Miss B’s vision for these parties, which were not about Panties, primarily after all. This was a coming-out Party so that Panties could get used to being honest with women, freely revealing her true nature. The parties would dictate how Panties would relate to all women in the future. Miss B wanted to show how obedient, loving and well trained her Panties was. But Panties was just the service, the entertainment, utterly ignored for much of the evening. Even amidst the pink-sissy-Barbie-Panties decor, the main purpose, Panties understood, accepted, happily, the important thing, was for the girls to eat and drink and relax and have a good time, to enjoy each other’s company, without having to lift a finger.

Miss B asked Panties to ready her bed. Panties hurried to obey and returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Miss B was reading a book while in one corner of the room twinkled the pink Barbie Christmas tree.

Christmas Pageant - 5

 

Dinner: Organic romaine hearts with balsamic and fresh herbs, baked garlic chicken with roasted vegetables, bread. For dessert Panties baked brownies served with vanilla ice cream. The girls all preferred tea although Panties was ready with freshly ground coffee with cream. Miss B was having a good time with her guests while keeping mental track of the evening. She sent Panties to change for another performance. Panties slipped off her dress and picked the stretchy costume from the hanger. She dressed quickly, checked her makeup and hair and stepped out the door. No one quite gasped, but they were wide-eyed as Panties came out in a pink tutu. The girl scout uniform would have been enough, or the cheerleader’s outfit. But a tutu is so extreme. Just the color, the cut of the garment, the way the upper thighs and panty are never really concealed, the way the pink skirt sticks out and brushes everything within two feet, the sound it makes. Except for Miss B they were too polite or surprised to laugh, but they passed around the camera and they stared and stared and stared(except for Miss Di who kept dropping her eyes, almost in embarrassment)without apology, Panties was intensely aware of the flash (Miss T with the camera) going off, the very pleased look in Miss B’s eyes (“I told you!”). And something mysteriously thoughtful in the expression of Miss D. (“Things will never be the same.”) Although Panties had spent much time practicing the dance and the poem, the moment was all about the tutu. Panties read The Ballerina in her sissy voice, another celebration of her menstrual period. And then she began to dance.



The Ballerina

My period is the sissy kind
I also dance ballet
I risk a bloody leotard
With every strong plié.

My menstruation lasts two weeks
Miss {B} is very kind
Tucked beneath my tutu tight
A weenis you will find.

My tampon knows a gayer hoe
And gaily hangs the string.
My jetes and my pirouette
Bring giggles to Miss { }

I squat and take the applicator
With Jergens or Ben Gay
Elastic sanitary belt
My panties dry will stay.

For half the year I’m on the rag
No menopause for me
When in my tights you’ll see the pad
For all eternity.

Miss {N} please behold the true
pathetic loser freak
When taken to the silent place
The dance is how I’ll speak.

 


Christmas Pageant - 4

When Miss Di arrived the tone of the room shifted slightly as the girls commiserated with her boy problems. Although they are all girly girls, Miss Di mostly closely hews to the standard. Besides her attractively low voice she’s always accompanied by her female drama. She will sit quietly and let her friends fuss about her. She was considerate and friendly to Panties in a way she would be to a girl. She certainly didn’t bother to dress up for Panties, but she always looks good even without effort and the turquoise flower she had put in her hair gave her a casual glamour. She asked for a lime-vodka cocktail asking the other girls not to comment. After Panties served her, Miss B requested a dance recital. Panties apologized for not memorizing fully the steps and the lyrics, but Miss B said it was okay to read from notes. She raised the camera and took several photos of Panties in her dress taking care to shoot close ups framing Panties’ hips and thighs. What caught her eye were the panties and elastics of the garterbelt and sanitary belt visible through the pink chiffon. "Dance for us, Panties," she said gaily. And Panties began to dance.


Men-stru-ation (To the tune of Macarena)

That time of the month it ruins my vacation
Just like a girl be she French, Greek or Haitian
My tampon and pad they are my inspiration
My mensturation!

Tampon up tight part of my transformation
String dangling out for my presentation
First five days I need extra protection
MY menstruation!

Sanitary belt
Upon my hips is felt
My panty brain it melts
Fourteen days!

My period is me I’m a pink aberration
For the rest of my life with no cessation
Two long weeks without masturbation
My menstruation!

Know every month i enjoy menstruation
My time of the month it’s a red, wet sensation
To bleed like a girl it is my aspiration
My menstruation!

Christmas Pageant - 3

Panties handed out the programs (see Livejournal entry) which Miss B explained would only be only loosely followed according to her whim. Her plan was for the girls to have a nice dinner, eating and drinking, with Panties serving and entertaining upon command. The girls lounged on floor cushions around the low glass table as Panties scurried to keep their drinks freshened. Miss Di arrived shortly and Panties greeted her at the door with a revealing curtsy. She entered and quickly made her self at home. Only Miss D had not a lot of time together with this group, but she quickly became part of their circle. As girls do, they politely chatted each other up with the usual compliments which were not hard to offer at a gathering of smart, pretty, young American girls. Before dinner Miss B remarked that they would like to hear a song or some poetry. Obediently, Panties picked up a page of poems. Miss B switched on the camera and video recorder and leaned back on the couch. Panties in particular felt the intensity of Miss D’s attention who liked all the girls, had a tight, closed-lipped smile which she could barely fully rein in as Panties recited the poem:


PANTIES

I like to wear my silky panties
every day and night
I sometimes wear a bra and panties
With heels, garters, wig and hose.

Panties are my passion!
Bikini, brief or string
Maidenform or Olga,
Panty House or Platex,
Oh! My favorite-- Vanity Fair,

Women call me Panty Freak
Panties, for a panty lover
I wear a used pair on my face
Crotch against my nose and mouth,
I sniff and lick and suck and sniff.

My panties are the heart of me
I'm always wearing panties,
Beneath my slacks or skirt and slip--
Lacey, smooth and pink and tight.

I buy and wear my panties
I hang them on the walls
On my hips, in my drawers
on my face and in my mouth,
Panties panties panties!

I am wearing women's clothes
Female underwear for me.
I touch my full, wet, pink bikini
I AM WEARING PANTIES, PANTIES!
I cry in transvestite ecstasy

Last Night

January 1, 2008
Miss B celebrated the New Year in the arms of one, as she once said to Panties, "not the least bit like you." She meant he’s tall and has muscles and is soo masculine. She described being hugged, and if Panties were allowed to look up at her face, her eyes would probably have been closed, dreamily. She didn’t waste a minute of the last year or this year to call Panties, but Panties can assume she was enjoying her holiday, knowing that Panties was alone, and dressed, awaiting the month and year to end. At midnight, Panties put on a fresh, belted sanitary napkin (with a cold red smear) and a clean pair of Panties, and kissed Hip-2-B-Square Barbie and My Size Barbie. We didn’t have champagne, but it was a nice way to begin 2008.

The next morning, Panties removed her pink Vanity Fair nightie and panties and after shaving her legs and underarms, showered and dressed in a bra and panties, garterbelt, nylons and the pink, strappy heels she had bought for her Christmas pageant. She also wore earrings and a ring and lipstick, lipgloss and perfume.

She spent the day fixing her posts, sissy-sorting, and spending private time with Barbie. She did little of the "normal" priorities related to her rapidly-fading ambitions and mindset from her earlier, deluded life. Panties badly hoped Miss B might text or call or e-mail, but was quite happy and accepting that Miss B, a girl's girl, after all, be taking advantage of every minute pleasurably, in a time and place unperfumed by sissy colors. By 11 Panties finished her female chores and readied herself for her Barbie sheets. Panties thought how what you do the first day of the year is so important for determining the rest of the year. And this year, likewise, would set the course for every happy, honest, fulfilling year to come as Transvestite Panties.

If you would like to catch up on my progress to date, please go to:
http://panties07.livejournal.com/