At the Belle-Embrasse Sissy Salon

 
"Welcome to Belle-Embrasse, Pascale darling," glowed Madame Chevaline, the salon directrice, folding her most regular customer in the chiffon sleeves of her gown. "Welcome my dear," and she drew Antione's hair and its net onto her bosom, covered so elegantly this week with smoked chiffon. "You are always most welcome for your fitting, my boy."
"I know we are always welcome, Madame Chevaline," said the boy's mother as they sat, "but I am frightfully afraid he is changing in front of my very eyes. Since our visit last week, Antoine has been showing signs of a masculine lack of taste." She rested a gloved finger next to her lipstick, dreading having to explain. "He is reluctant to have his cache-sexe fitted with ribbons."
"Tch-tch!" Madame Chevaline looked grim and she inhaled deeply. "That, I am afraid, is a sign of thinning femininity." She motioned the boy and sat him on the buffet at her knee. She removed his mink jacket and pants, and drew down his satin bloomers. His mother moved next to Madame to hold the boy's hands out of the way as his cache sexe was undone and opened.
"His penis is nicely supple and dainty," declared Madame, turning it this way and that and fondling its length in her fingers. It needs daily waxing with unction," and she produced a miniature jar which she opened. The cream on her fingertips was colourless, and ice cold, bringing a whimper from the sissy's lips. "I'll give it a little pumping, darling. It will fill it with a wish to become more feminine." The boy almost fainted as the rubberised sleeves was fitted over his helmet and pulled down the length of his stiffened shaft. Then the pumping began, his throat bleating helplessly as his mother held him still and Madame's hands did the necessary, drawing swirls of sweetness up and down his member for a full ten minutes as the women exchanged dressing plans for him. When the appliance was withdrawn, his member was sprayed with eau de cologne.
"Keep him in this satin-lined velvet sheath for the rest of the day," said Madame, and I will cover it with this fur finger-coatee. Obviously it does not want to be covered up in such feminine finery. Shall we select a pair of open-fronted satin bloomers for him?"
Pascale chose damson pink bloomers for her son, and stood him unsteadily on his feet for Madame to slide them up his legs, until his fur-coated penis popped into sight to have the bloomer secured all round its root.
"I'll take a fur bonnet for him too," said his mother. "I want to cushion his cheeks in chinchilla to go with his penie-coat. He will look so sweet in the mall.
So Antoine had arrived at Belle-Embrasse feeling less than feminine, but was led from its fragrant premises simply bleating with girlish desire. His mother held his arm through hers and swelled with happiness at how sweet her boy's penis would be for the coming week until their next appointment.