Christeen: I let her do this

 Another story about Chris inspired by a Christeen's artwork posted on SweetAndyLatex's Patreon:  https://www.patreon.com/posts/christeen-on-57472738

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I let her do this

 

Chris felt awful.   Another sleepless night.   Another night spent tossing and turning.  He’d probably slept more than he thought but he’d woken several times in discomfort.  He would have to tell her.  This couldn’t go on.  Why did he agree to it?  Today had to be different.  Today, he was going to put his foot down.  

 

As soon as he heard the heating come on, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom.  He needed to feel comfortable if he was going to say what had to be said.  He took short, dainty steps, like he’d been trained, to avoid tugging at his ankles.   Chris flipped on the light and stepped inside. He shivered as his feet met the cold tiled floor of the bathroom.   He went  back to his bed and put on his mules.   His heels clicked on the floor as he sat down to pee.   He made his mind up about what he was going to say.  Today was the day it ended.  He composed the words in his head.  He mouthed through them in silence until he’d got them just right.  He looked down as he wiped and dried his device with toilet tissue.   His toes peeped beyond the Perspex strap of his mules: he really did like the new shade of pink that Auntie had tried on his toenails yesterday.  

 

Back in his bedroom, Chris slipped on his shortie white negligée.  Gingerly he stepped out on to the landing.  It was still cool but he could hear the house and pipework start to creak as they warmed.  He knocked on his Auntie’s door.   This was it.

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s me, Chris.”

“Yes, obviously.  Come in.”

 

The curtains were still drawn and his Aunt had not turned a light on.  “Good morning, Auntie.”  Despite the darkness, he knew exactly where to tread towards her bed.  He was going to say his piece and then go, although not before he’d retrieved the keys to his device and his hobble.   They had to come off.

 

“Good morning, darling.   Have you brought a cup of tea?  That’s so sweet of you.”

“No, Auntie.”

 

“Coffee?”

 

“No, Auntie.”

 

“Oh, just you.  That’s still very nice.”

 

“Auntie, I want to say something.”

 

“Yes, darling?”

 

“I’ve been meaning to say this for some time …”

 

“Yes?   What time is it?”

 

“Six-thirty.”

 

“Gosh!  So early.”

 

“Auntie, I feel ..”

 

“Oh honey, how thoughtless of me.   The heating will only just have come on.  You must feel cold.   Come into bed and talk to me.”

 

“But Auntie, I was trying to say…”

 

“Well say it to me when you’re in bed.”  

 

“I think I’ll find it easy to say here.”

 

“Don’t be silly, darling.  You must be cold.”  A hand reached out and touched his.  “You’re shivering.”   Chris had to admit he was shivering but probably more quivering in trepidation about what he had to say.  “Come on dear, get in.”  His Aunt’s hand pulled him forward.  Chris stepped out of his mules and slid under the light duvet.    “At least you’re in your negligée.  Let’s get you warm.  Lie on your side dear.”  Chris felt his Auntie wrap himself around him. He felt the warmth of his Auntie against him and her hot breath on his neck.   “Isn’t that better darling?”

 

“Yes, Auntie!  But I was trying to say something.”

 

“Yes, darling.  You can say it as we snuggle.    Now let me remove your ankle hobble, it’ll allow me to get closer. I don’t think we need the leg spreader this morning if we’re going spoons.”

 

“But Auntie …”

 

“Yes?   What size would you like this morning?” 

 

He was lost.  Again.  Helpless.  How could he resist his wonderful Auntie?  How could he ever say no?  Not when his Auntie was so lovely and so loving. 

 

“And over breakfast we can think about what you are going to wear today.   Remember Amelia’s coming today.”

 

“Amelia?”

 

“Yes, Amelia.  The buyer.   She wants to look at our bridal collection.”  

 

“Oh, yes Amelia.   Oh!  Oh!”

 

“Just relax, honey.”

 

“Oh, Auntie!   Ooooh!   Aaaaah!”

 

“There.  Isn’t that nice honey?   Now what did you want to say to me?”

 

“Aaaaaah!   Aaaaah!   Aaaaah!   N..n…n…nothing, Auntie.  Aaaaah!”

 

“Oh, Chris. You’re so sweet. I’m sure that got you nice and warm.   You know you don’t need to ask.  I’m always here for you.  Are you sure you didn’t want something?”

 

“Well, Auntie.  I was wondering about my device.”

 

“No, Chris.   Sorry.   Not that.  You know it’s Locktober.  Just relax like a good girl and enjoy it the way you’re meant to.   I wonder whether we ought to have Lockovember for you too, if there is such a thing?  Again.”

 

“Oh, Auntie, no!  No, Auntie!  Oh, Auntie!   Oh!  Oh! Oh! Aaah!  Aaaah!  Aaaaaaaaah!   ”

 

“There you go.  Twice.  See you couldn’t do that if you weren’t wearing your device.   You’d be done in seconds.  Now let’s see if you can manage a third before breakfast.”

 

Chris tried to spread the meringue of his dress and petticoats to sit comfortably.  After breakfast, Auntie had painted his nails the same colour as his toes and chosen a matching lipstick too.   His hair was up in a bun with a little tiara.   Auntie had said she wanted him to try the new bridal wear designs.   She wanted him to show off this dress in particular to Amelia.  She’d teasingly promising a bridle if he refused.   What would Amelia think if she found a ponyboy rather than a bride?  

 

“You’re so pretty this morning, sissy boy.  Try telling me you don’t feel more feminine wearing a gown like that.”

 

“Yes, Auntie.”

 

You’re lovely when you’re naked, Chris.   But you look fabulous in a nice dress.   And you’re positively glowing.   And we both know why.”

 

“Yes, Auntie.”

 

“No need for a hobble now you’re in the bridal satin shoes with six inch heels.  Aren’t you a lucky boy?  What do you say, Chris?”

 

“Thank you, Auntie.  I want to be a pretty girl for you.”

 

“That’s right, Chris.   A sweet sissy boy and a lovely pretty girl.”

 

“Thank you, Auntie.  I want to be a pretty girl for you.”    Chris knew it was hopeless.  He still harboured his thoughts but kept them locked away inside: ‘I go to bed thinking - never again, but then every morning I let her do this to me anyway.   But she’s so lovely.   How can I say no?   Why would I want to?  I'd do anything for her.   If only she would undo my device.   I’m sure I’d behave.  But she is so beautiful.  And three times.  Oh my!   It was so wonderful.'   Chris was glad he was sitting down since he could feel his knees go weak at the memory.   He never knew that he could experience such joy.  She had been so wonderful this morning.   He was her girl.

  

Please leave comments if you feel so inclined.

 

Christeen: Forget your bra?

Some of you may have seen the recent post on SweetAndyLatex's wonderful blog Smooth Slick'n'Shiny

Very special Wednesday treat

that included a story, "Thank you, Auntie" inspired by Christeen's lovely artwork.   Christeen's picture (Andy's Patreon Christeen1864PAn ) had first appeared on SweetAndyLatex's fabulous Patreon site that includes special content unavailable on Smooth Slick'n'Shiny.   The story was written shortly after publication and I was pleased that not only did Andy and Christeen like it, but that Christeen gave her blessing for publication.

 NOTE: It's really worth subscribing to it especially given the low membership fees (https://www.patreon.com/AndyLatex/posts ): a twice weekly (or more) delight.

 

Andy published another Christeen picture on Monday, 4-Oct-21.   This is the story that followed.  

 

Forget your bra?

The morning was not going well for Chris.   He’d overslept.  That was the problem of a late night and feeling too cosy and comfortable.  There’d been no time for breakfast but that was hardly important.  It seemed like he was the only one awake in the house.  He should have known that Auntie would be on time: she needed to run him home before work.  It had been a mad scramble to brush his hair and do his make-up.  He’d had to do it in silence since he didn’t want to wake the rest of the house.  With the curtains drawn, he’d even had to put on his dress in semi-darkness.  

It was the same dress from the night before.  He’d nothing else to wear.  He’d not expected to stay over, but Auntie had been so pleased that they’d made another picture sale that she’d agreed to let him stay for a sleep-over with Julia and some of her other guests.  Maybe Auntie knew that Julia had planned a sleep-over party but she’d not told him.   It had been a nice surprise to be allowed a night away.  It showed how much Auntie trusted him.  

And it had been fun chatting with the guests.  More fun than Chris had expected.  There were ladies there like Auntie and Julia, but each had brought their Mademoiselle boy with them.  One had even brought twins, both dressed  in traditional schoolgirl uniform with white blouses, ties, little black pinafore dresses (but with petticoats) and white knee socks.  Auntie had joked with Julia about how twins must be a handful given the difficulties of coping with just one reluctant sissy.  Poor Julia had seemed sad since she was the only one without a boy of her own.  At the time Chris hadn’t thought to wonder why.    Maybe that was why she wanted the party? 

Chris had enjoyed meeting other fembois like him who were living with their aunties and learning about their new lives.  Chris didn’t feel so alone.   Most of the boys were still at Level One and looked up to Chris who was already at Level Two.  That gave Chris confidence.   They had so many questions for him.  Chris had found it fun exchanging tips about make-up and the importance of keeping stocking seams straight.  They’d all giggled and laughed when they shared their stories about the first time they’d worn high heels.  Some of the boys still seemed nervous about being out in public dressed up as a Mademoiselle Boy, but the party was such an obviously safe space that they all seemed to relax in each other’s company.  They each realised that they weren’t the only boy being feminised by a lady friend.   

 

Julia put on some music.  Not too loud so that the ladies and the boys could still talk but more than just background music.  Auntie had brought some of her pictures of Chris to the party.  She and the ladies retired to the other side of Julia’s large salon and left the boys to talk and have some non-alcoholic diet lemonade.  (“Too many calories in anything else, sweeties,” Julia had said to the boys when serving drinks at the start of the evening.  “And we don’t want any of you going silly with anything stronger.”)  While the boys chatted, Chris could see that Julia was making sales.  All the ladies seemed to want a Chris picture.   Auntie was saying that the ones that he’d signed would be much more valuable in the future and it seemed to do the trick in encouraging them to buy.

Once the pictures had been sold, Julia decided that she wanted hers on the wall immediately.  With Auntie’s assistance, she placed it on the wall outside her bedroom.   Julia lowered the lighting slightly.  The chatter increased and some of the ladies got louder as their glasses of Prosecco took effect.  A few of the boys started to sway with the music and then one or two began to dance. *"The Safety Dance" came on and Chris began to sway too:
'We can dance if we want to
We can leave your friends behind'

He caught the eye of another Mademoiselle Boy, one a year or two younger than him dressed in a pink party dress with a layered frilly skirt and kitten heels.  He was clearly only at Level One.  Chris started to dance:
'Cause your friends don't dance
And if they don't dance
Well, they're no friends of mine'

The other boy followed his lead:
'Say, we can go where we want to
A place where they will never find
And we can act like we come
From out of this world
Leave the real one far behind'

More of the boys joined them and with whoops of joy, started to sing along:
“And we can dance
Or sing”

It was such a joyous feeling.   Soon they were all dancing together with the ladies reclining on sofas watching them.  The ladies looked happy to see their charges so relaxed. They sang:
“We can go when we want to
Night is young and so am I
And we can dress real neat
From our hats to our feet
And surprise 'em with the victory cry”

The boys felt liberated: they could dance like girls at a disco. This was how life should be for Mademoiselle Boys:
“Say, we can act if we want to
If we don't, nobody will
And you can act real rude and totally removed
And I can act like an imbecile”

Some of the boys put their clutch bags down on the carpet in the centre as if to make a point.   They could dance if they wanted to dance, they didn’t need have to go through the embarrassing ritual of having to ask a girl to dance:
“And say, we can dance, we can dance”

They could all just dance and have fun.  So many pretty girls together.  The ladies were amused to see the boys dancing round their handbags with such gay abandon.  It made all the effort they put into training their Mademoiselle Boy seem so worthwhile.
“We can dance, we can dance
Everybody's taking the chance
Oh well, the safety dance
Ah yes, the safety dance”

As the track eventually faded, the boys were giggling with laughter and happiness and continued dancing as it segued into “Nothing’s Gonna to Stop Us Now”.  More tracks followed.  The boys generally seemed to prefer the up-tempo numbers and retreated into shyness when the slower, more smoochy tunes came on.  They’d often stop dancing and give wistful glances over to their aunties or, as the evening progressed, to some of their colleagues

It was such a shame when after a couple of hours Julia, turned the music down and the lights up.   It was time to go.  Some of the boys pleaded with their aunties to stay.  Julia was clear with Chris, “It’s a workday tomorrow, Chris, and I need to get some rest.”   Other ladies were similarly firm.  Still the boys pleaded.   Eventually Julia suggested that if their aunties agreed, the boys could stay for a sleepover.   She had some blankets and duvets and cushions and they could spread out in the salon.   Some of the ladies still insisted on taking their boys home with them, but Auntie had allowed Chris to stay with an agreed pick-up time of seven-thirty.

When the rest of the guests left, Julia turned the music back up loud and left the six remaining boys to dance.   She went upstairs to fetch bedding.   Chris offered to lend a hand since he wanted to show how well Auntie had trained him.  Julia accepted his kind offer and they gathered quilts and sleeping bags.  Julia let Chris re-join the dancers while she went into her bedroom.   Chris got back in the mood and found his rhythm again.  He felt at ease.   He found heels made it easier for him to dance.  For some numbers he could just sway and jig.   Only tiny little steps.  He could turn and twist and pivot on his heels.  He’d never felt so ….. so ….. so…, he had to admit to himself, so feminine.  Yes, feminine.   Obviously he was wearing make-up, a dress, a training bra, petticoat, suspenders, and heels, but he wore them all the time.  Standing in heels at the party had made him feel not just taller, but more confident.  Auntie had trained him to walk in heels, with his legs in line and his bottom wiggling.    But this was different.  He felt more powerful.  More assertive.   He was Chris, an embodiment of Mademoiselle Boy femininity.  Chris had never felt so proud to be a Mademoiselle Boy.  And after this evening, his picture was going to be on walls all around the county.  Now Chris understood why Auntie had wanted him to move up to 5” heels.  Most of the boys were only on 2” or 3”, while the twins were still in matching Mary Janes.   He could see the other boys looking with envy at his shoes.  That extra heel height gave him so much greater poise and assurance. They went so well with his flowing calf length dress.  He could sense the other boys' desire to be more like him and have his looks and style.   He was so pleased with what Auntie had done: he was her pretty girl.

And he wasn’t wearing knickers.  Auntie had said there might be an inspection during the party so knickers weren’t necessary.  

For once, Chris was glad he was wearing his little harness since it meant there was no uncomfortable flapping when he was dancing.  The boys had compared notes during their discussions earlier in the evening and it turned out all were wearing devices of one sort or another.  Plastic, metal, soft silicone.   Black, pink or shiny.  Chris hadn’t realised there were so many styles.  None of them seemed entirely happy about wearing one so Chris thought it better not to talk about the size reduction that would occur as they progressed to Mademoiselle Level 2.

After another hour of dancing, Julia said it was time to turn the music off and for them to settle.   The boys grudgingly agreed.  They each made up little beds on the floor from the cushions and blankets.  Then it was time to settle and lights out.  Although the boys chatted for a while in the darkness, they all fell asleep quite quickly on a blend of tiredness and elation.   Chris had been woken at one am by a soft hand on his shoulder.

Fortunately, Chris was woken at seven-fifteen by sunlight peeking through the curtains.   He’d slid into his dress and then searched for his clutch bag on the floor of the salon. In the downstairs bathroom, he was nervous that the fan would wake people but he had to turn the light on.  He was just finishing fixing his make-up mostly lippie, eyeliner and eyeshadow with a hint of blush, when he heard Auntie’s Porsche draw up outside.  The throb of the turbo was unmistakeable.  He’d just had time to put his make-up back in his clutch when Auntie was in the salon.   She must have her own key to Julia’s.   Who knew?

“Come on Chris! I expected you to be ready.  Have you got everything?”

I think so Auntie.  Chris looked in his clutch.   Yes, it all seems to be there. 

“At least you’re dressed.”

It suddenly hit Chris.   How could he have been so stupid and forgetful.  ‘I shouldn’t have to wear those things,’ he thought.   “Er…”

“What is it?”

“I’ve forgotten my training bra, Auntie.”

Auntie was firm: “Forget your bra… ”  just as the door of Julia’s bedroom began to open, “… boy?   You’re not leaving without it.”     An arm emerged from round the door.    His pink training bra was dangling from an outstretched hand.  Chris scampered across the salon to retrieve it.  Wordlessly the arm disappeared and the door closed.

“Well, really!” exclaimed Auntie.   “So that’s where you spent the night.  I might have guessed that you wanted more than a sleepover.  Without a word, she grabbed the hem of his skirt and pulled it up.   “Well, at least that’s still in place.   The very idea.   We’re leaving.”   She grabbed Chris’s hand and stomped towards the front door.

 

Auntie unlocked the Porsche and Chris got into the passenger seat.  His Aunt had driven with the top down and the leather of the Recaro felt cold through his skirt and the pleats of his petticoat, as she began to accelerate away.  As the cold hit his buttocks, a horrible realisation hit him.  “Oh, no!”he exclaimed.

 

“What now?” his aunt demanded.

 

“Auntie, we have to go back.   Please can we go back, Auntie?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ve forgotten something else.”  Chris remembered where it was.   In the early hours of morning, as he’d snuggled up to Julia in the darkness, she’d taken out his jewelled metal plug and placed it on her bedside table.  That was where it would still be.  How was he going to tell Auntie?

 

 

 

To be continued ……  at least by Auntie, since Chris is not going to hear the end of this.

 

*With full acknowledgement in the quotes from "The Safety Dance" to Ivan Doroschuk of 'Men Without Hats'.   No breach of copyright intended, just recognition of a truly wonderful song that fits this occasion so well.