You Need Little Skirts and Blouses by Prim
Daphne took her sissy-boy by the hand and led him into his grandmother's bedroom where Grandma Doris had laid out some fascinating items of clothing on her bed. Clifford stood on the toes of one foot, then the other as he nervously gazed at the soft, shiny fabrics and couldn't help but notice how effeminate they all were.
"Darling," said his Mommy, "we're thinking we need to change the way we dress you in the morning. Up to now we've slipped you into Mommy's or Grandma's lingerie, because you feel so lovely when your dickie-pops is encased in our ladies' panties, especially if you are wearing a lovely slip over them so that Dickie slides sweetly under two layers of nylon or silk."
Eighteen-year-old Clifford gave a little squirm or two as he quietly affirmed what his dear Mommy said. In fact he was wearing Grandma's French knickers today and her matching bra with their matching waist slip too, tucked inside his pink satin bloomers so that they filled out so deliciously making his Dickie Pops extra long and rosy.
"When we dress you in one of your girl's frocks, pet," said Grandma Doris, "We wonder whether they are perhaps too girly for you."
His Mother squeezed his hand when she felt him droop with alarm and gathered his face into the cups of her bosom to reassure him. "But don't worry my pet," she said. "We will always choose very feminine apparel for our little darling. We know how you want to be a girl for Mommy and Grandma one day, so we're going to dress you in a way that's getting you ready for that."
He hugged her with both arms, somewhere round her waist, then watched as Grandma lifted a hanger from the bedspread, on which hung a white shirt with a pleated pink bottom. "I know you feel very precious when we put you into a party frock, sweetheart," she said. "I think it's because your frocks are generally for little girls much younger than you. I think you would love to be dressed in dresses and skirts and blouses which are for little girls. Do you agree?"
She was slipping the hanger out from the bottom and to Clifford's surprise he could see that it was a shirt with an extension buttoned onto it all round. He watched, his heart thumping, as she undid the buttons, and the extra pink section dropped back onto the bed. The shirt was very pretty. In fact, it was a blouse, with a Peter Pan collar which he loved - as wide as the shoulders - and pretty frills at the front of the bodice. The blouse opened and she held it for his arms to pop through the dainty puffed sleeves.
"Oh Grandma," he breathed, "it's so girly!"
He was right. The blouse was in the lightest, most delicate silk-satin with broderie anglaise trimming and pearled blouse buttons. As Grandma and Mommy fastened the little buttons at the outsides of his arms he felt a sudden urge to cry. Was he upset because he was being put into a little girl's blouse? Or was it because they were turning him into a little girl?
Then he saw, with a leap of the heart, that the pink pleated extension was actually a skirt. A mini skirt no longer than seven or eight inches, and its waist was filled with a row of buttonholes all round. In no time they were buttoning his beautiful pink skirt onto the hem of his blouse, at the back first, then at the front. It was so short it didn't reach his dickie-pops - even when it was standing up for Mommy like it was now.
"I want you to wear my own pale cream panties, darling," said Mommy, stooping to his feet to slip them on, then sliding them up his legs. Only just in time, because she almost didn't make it to catch her darling Clifford's dickie explosion, which she just smothered in her pantie gusset, and held it tightly, squidging it up and down to help their little girl feel as wonderful as he possibly could the first time he wore one of his new little pleated skirts for them.
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