The Closet Sissy by Claudia Tyler-Mae
I had been aware of his daily visits to my panty drawer for quite a while, and decided that it was time to teach him a lesson he would never forget. He had a room on the floor below me at college, and last term had somehow found a reason to have my key. When I started to notice that my panties were being moved around, it took a while to work out what was happening.
Who expects someone to go through their lingerie when they’re out? I certainly didn’t, but after a while it became clear that not only were my panties being disturbed, they were being worn. Worn by someone who was stretching the pretty lace and satin before putting them back, thinking I’d never notice.
Of course I noticed, I take care of my lingerie. And once I figured out my panties were turning someone else on, it didn’t take long to figure out when, and then who was responsible. Each day when I set out for classes, he would sneak into my room and spend a little time there. Each day he was last to his classes, and each day another pair of panties would show signs of being worn.
So I set a trap. First I bought some super frilly panties and a matching bra and garter belt. They were so outrageous, so covered in lace frills and bows that no girl would have worn them outside of a cheap porn film. But I left them in my drawer, and sure enough they soon showed signs of being worn.
Soon he wasn’t touching any of my other stuff, just the sissy pink panty set I’d bought. Then I bought a matching pink corset. It was a bit too large for me, but still must have been a stretch for him. That didn’t stop him though. It was clear he couldn’t resist the lacy pink frills, and he began getting even later for class, looking flushed and out of breath.
Knowing how he must have to struggle to squeeze into the trashy pink lingerie, I put the next step of my trap into place. I bought a pair of pink patent heels, with locking straps, again too large for me but I doubt he would have noticed. I left them out in my room and within days they were looking stretched and scuffed, though he had the sense not to lock them in place with the key being hidden away. He even missed one class completely, busy playing with what he thought were my clothes.
Then I sprang the trap. I bought the most ridiculous frilly sissy girl dress you have ever seen. The skirts were so short they barely touched my ass (yes, I did try it on just to see), but they stuck out over layer after layer of lacy petticoats. Big puffy sleeves and a huge pink bow on the back made it look quite adorable, but the short skirts and plunging cleavage made it only suitable for a low rent hooker. I cleared all the other things out of my closet and left it hanging there. Then, as though it had been discarded I dropped the packet it had came in, with the picture on the front, right next to the shoes I knew he was wearing.
The next morning I set out for classes as normal, before doubling back and hiding round the corner. Just as planned, he soon came up to my room and let himself in. I could only imagine him putting on his pretty pink panties, the bra and stockings, and squeezing into the corset that would leave him breathless and excited. Then going to put on the shoes and finding the packet. His sissy eyes must have nearly popped to see the picture of that flouncy little girl dress. He must have immediately started to look for it.
It didn’t take long for him to open the closet door and discover the dress hanging there. I bet his heart was going pitter-patter as he stood there in his girlie pink lingerie, staring at that ridiculous, humiliating sissy dress. He probably was breathing quite hard by then, because the chloroform we’d hung by the dress took only moments to overcome him. We found him neatly crumpled on the floor in front of my closet, dressed in his lingerie and holding the dress he’d managed to pull off the hanger.
First we made sure he was ok, then we pulled the laces on his corset a little tighter. It doesn’t hurt a girl to have a nice hourglass waist. We put a few drops of superglue on the laces then tied them in a tight knot at his back. He’d not get that off without help. Then we put the shoes on his feet and locked the straps in place. It took a while to struggle him into the sissy dress, but we managed it and zipped it in place, with a neat little clasp at the back holding it on. Another drop of superglue to make sure, and he’d be wearing that dress until someone cut him out of it.
Finally we made him up. We did it properly, not like those dares that guys do, putting on their girlfriend’s lipstick for a bet. We put on plenty of foundation, blended and smoothed and added layer after layer of heavy colour.
By the time we’d finished it looked like he had spent hours trying to look just like a pretty little doll. Actually, he really did look like a doll: trashy and plastic and cheap, but still quite cute in a sort of porn star way. I’d bought a long pink wig and when we put it on him, he actually looked like a girl. The sort of girl that hangs round street corners, or passes out drunk at parties after she’s embarrassed herself.
Then we put him back by the closet door. All dressed up like the most adorable little whore you ever saw. The timing worked brilliantly. My friend had told all our girlfriends that she was going to have a surprise party for me to celebrate some made up thing that afternoon. They were all to burst into my room for my surprise. Except, for some reason I wasn’t there when they did, having gone out for lunch late that day.
Later they told me how shocked they’d been to find him there, dressed like such a perfect little sissy. How he’d been so confused to be discovered and how they’d kept him like that till I came back. None of us could figure out what he could have been doing in my room wearing clothes that were clearly his own. For that matter, he couldn’t figure out how he’d become she, our little sissy girl.
The teasing was merciless, especially when it became clear she was so turned on, and so helpless to escape. She became my party favour, had to serve drinks and do pretty much anything we could think up. And you can bet we came up with some pretty wicked things.
But she loved it, despite all the begging and blushing and a few tears. So now, she has to come to all of our parties, wear one of her sissy dresses and do it all over again whenever we wish. Isn’t that the best lesson a good little sissy girl can learn?