This story is dedicated to Kept Sissy who was so instrumental in helping me understand my urges.
I was in the final phase of getting my Doctorate in psychology. My dissertation was to be on the difference between transgender boys, homosexuals, and sissies. You see, the transgender feels as though they were born with the wrong physical sex organs whereas it's natural for the homosexual to have sex with men. The sissy allows himself to be either seduced or forced to perform homosexual acts with "real men" while wishing they could fuck women.
I had found no real scientific studies on the subject and felt that in this time of inclusion and diversity, one such paper was in order.
My name is John and I'm 27 years old. A nebbish sort, I find more comfort in books and scientific research than I did trying to chase coeds like my classmates. I'm 5'7" and thin, weighing a mere 140. I have to say that spending the time I have sitting in class, the library, and my desk at home, my hips spread a bit wider than is normal for the male species and my ass grew kind of plump due to the lack of exercise.
Please do not be fooled. Just because I let my body go soft, I keep up my appearances. My hair is neatly brushed 100 strokes per day, just before bed. Mother always said that doing that daily makes for a full and lush head of hair. I dare say she was right. And although my hair is long, I keep pulled back in a pony tail, a la Steven Segal, only a little longer.
I am certainly no clothes horse. Paying for my education was hard enough and left me little discretionary funds. The one good thing about my physical build is I can and do shop for clothes in the boys department. It cut down on costs tremendously. There were a couple draw-backs. One was that the pants I bought fit tightly. Fortunately for me my scrotum and penis are small, very small. The tight pants didn't hurt. But those same tight pants hugged my plump bottom and quite often you could see the line of my underpants. Also, because I'm really an adult, the pants I'd buy in the boys department would tend to be on the low rise. By that I mean they were slung low on my hips.
Since my feet were also small, almost dainty Mother used to say, I could fit into a boy's Keds sneaker.
My research kept me busy and since mother passed a few years ago, I was pretty much alone in the world. I missed the intimacy of mother.
She had been tough on me, teaching me manners and perseverance. Many were the bare bottom spankings and later on belt whippings I'd get from her for any transgression, minor or major. So it was almost natural for me to be naked in her presence.
Mother inspired my thesis. My manhood wasn't much on the man side she would constantly point out to me. I heard her tell a friend that perhaps she shouldn't look forward to grand children so much as a son-in-law.
Her criticisms made me want to make something of myself to prove her wrong.
So it was that I engaged myself into the study of differences between trannys, homos, and sissies.We all understand what a transgender is. We all realize that there are gays among us and that they're generally accepted. The sissy, however, is not understood at all. So I thought I'd should concentrate on that particular demographic.
To seek out what makes a sissy I found myself increasingly online. From Google searches, to adult web sites, there was a world I never knew existed. I read their bios and studied their physical attributes. I read of their triumphs and of their distresses. I was fascinated by the personal accounts and stories I read regarding self realizations and forced transformations. I was determined to find a sissy with whom I could have a meaningful interview. Our dialogue would be crucial to my work.
Turning to the internet, I made contact with a number of people who claimed, online that is, to be sissies. Only two responded. One was not really open to discuss his lifestyle with me. The other was more welcoming. More inviting. He prefers to go by the name his owner gave him and by the gender his owner has defined him. Her name is Ellen.
Through emails I learned that Ellen, as a young man, was lured or drawn (she isn't 100% on which) to her neighbor. A large rugged man with a corresponding sexual appetite, he seduced Ellen. First he had Ellen orally service his cock. The neighbor instructed Ellen to next appear to him in female panties.
Ellen was captivated. She went home and searched through her mother's lingerie drawer until she found a pair she felt suitable. She described them to me as and I quote, "a semi-transparent, pink bikini with small lace trim."
Ellen spoke of how sexy she felt when the nylon hugged her bottom and what she refers to as her boi clit.
Ellen also confided in me that after her first foray into her mother's panty drawer she was hooked. From that date forward, Ellen would only wear feminine under garments.
She related how the next day she hurried next door and lowered her pants to show her man she knew how to follow instruction.
"He complimented me," Ellen wrote. "Then he forced me to my knees and shoved his erection down my throat. It was on my knees on that cement floor that I learned to deep throat a real man's cock."
I made a note to say that I think she was bragging a bit there.
Ellen continued writing of the event. "After I had slobbered all over his cock he lifted me up, bent me over the hood of his pick-up truck, pulled my panties down, and fucked my boi-pussy."
I found it interesting that she still refers to herself as "her" but calls her genitalia by the masculine sounding boi clit and boi pussy. I asked about this.
Ellen's response is that she knows she's a male but not much of one. Early on she came to realize with the help of her neighbor that her purpose on earth was to make herself available to real men.
"He told me I'd never get pussy with my tiny dick and I should concentrate on cock sucking and looking pretty for the men who like to use bois like me. He also gave me instruction on how I was to present myself to him in future trysts."
Ellen wrote that her neighbor had her start wearing female under garments full time and make-up when she came calling. She wrote that soon she had a personal cache of panties, bras, hose, garters. "All to be more appealing to men," she wrote.
As we got deeper into our interview, Ellen told me how quickly her neighbor expected more from her. The simple oral sex and coitus began to morph into something different. Sessions started to include more physical activities such as spankings. She would be slapped for the slightest infraction or some times when her neighbor was simply in a bad mood.
"It was in that environment that I learned that a sissy must accept punishment for her lack of manhood," she told me. "We're essential to real men as a person on whom they can take out their aggressions and in whom they can pump their sperm without fear of making the sissy pregnant."
She told me how her initial fear quickly became arousal when she arrived at her neighbor's garage to find he had invited two others. Ellen was spanked several times that day and was made to perform oral sex on one while another took her "boi pussy". She described that occasion as liberating. She found her place as an outlet for aggressive men. Real men with large cocks.
She also discovered that he was charging his pals for her services. "You're my personal whore," he told her.
Ellen spent many hours on her knees learning to make oral love to scrotums and rimming the asses of her lovers. She was allowed sexual relief only by supervised masturbation and then usually in front of the multiple men who had used her.
As she grew older she sought out men who would continue to use her for their pleasure. She now had a man who she called her owner.
