You know what else didn't happen while my panties tumbled in the drier? No one slipped a micky into my soda and I didn't pass out after drinking it. I didn't wake up several days and and many cosmetic surgeries later in a basement. I wasn't astonished at my depilated body, higher cheekbones and jutting c-cup breasts. Nor was I told by a woman with an elaborate dragon tattoo winding down her body that I was the newest star attraction at an exclusive hostess club in Japan that specialized in hostesses of european descent with a little something extra. Had this happened I'm sure I would have objected, and I'm sure the woman would have produced a whip and made her point, adding that the yakuza upstairs could do far worse to me if I didn't prove to be a cooperative and accommodating hostess.

These things never seem to happen to me when I do my laundry. It's unfair. It happens to all the other fictional sissies on the internet. Oh well.

One last thing that didn't happen. I didn't wash my whites.

Wendy

Entry Tags: fantasy

As many of you may recall, I used to write erotic love letters, sexy stories mostly, to the woman who first brought me in touch with my sissy side.  Before we broke up I had been writing a series of stories wherein my lady love had sent me to a special academy to by sissified.  Sadly, we parted ways before the series was complete.

In the climax of the story, which remains unwritten, I attempt to escape from the academy and fail, betrayed by a fellow student.  As per the contract of enrollment, I was to be bound in a straightjacket and taken to a special building where I was to be forcefully sissified with a combination of electroshock, hormone therapy, brainwashing, and surgery.

I was really looking forward to writing this chapter, but due to the circumstances, it looks like it may never see print.  Still, the image of myself in a straightjacket and blonde wig has stuck with me.  It's a position I love to think about.  In time perhaps I will finish the story for myself or the enjoyment of someone else.  In time I will live out another of my sissy fantasies.

Entry Tags: fantasy

All this talk about my fetishes and kinds has been bringing a lot of old fantasies to he surface.  It's bad for my ardor, and I've been getting 'ardor and 'ardor since I decided to share.  Carry on I must, so I will.

When I was younger the talking doll Teddy Ruxpin used to freak me out.  It was very popular in my area and many kids had them, but not only did I not have one, but I made it clear that I never wanted one.  Why?  My undiagnosed hypnofetishism.  I was worried that if I had one, someone would switch the tapes out and use it to hypnotize and reprogram me.  Now, as a sissy slut and hypnofetishist, I kind of like the idea.

I can see it now:

My girlfriend comes over for the day and she brings me a gift.  It's the aforementioned talking teddy, the toy I never had.  I kind of like that kind of gift, and I've given them before (you'd be surprised how many people weren't allowed to have crayons or dolls when they were younger).  I'm a little embarrassed, but she insists I try it out and enjoy it.  So I place the teddy on the bedside table, lay back in bed, and listed to it tell a story.  The story starts out bland and childish, but soon it's hard to concentrate.  I start getting sleepy as I watch the teddy's eyes open and close.  Soon the voice of the animatronic storyteller has put me to sleep.

I wake up to find myself still in bed, but somehow I've gotten into a bra, panties, and stockings.  My girlfriend is standing over me, smiling, and explains that as part of my sissy training I'll be listening to hypnotic tapes on my teddy from now on.  I start to protest, but she presses play on the doll, and it soon has me in a trance.

From that day forward, before bed I must slip into a nightie or romper, cuddle up with my teddy, and let in put me into a trance so that I can be programmed into a better sissy while I sleep.

There goes that ardor again.

Widdle Wendy

Entry Tags: fantasy